#cowboy!joel

[gracieheartspedro]

Your Needs, My Needs

THE PRELUDE

a masterlist of how you can help gaza

pairing: cowboy!joel x f!reader (no outbreak)

description: you have made it to your new home in taylor, texas. your anxiety of owning your our home and being alone is coming to a head, but you need to be productive. a trip to the local furniture turns into you meeting some locals and your new cowboy neighbor.

word count: 3.7k words

warnings: there is no smut in this part. still MINORS DNI! no use of y/n! vague talk of reader's old life before texas, no real description of the reader, description of small age gap, joel being a sarcastic shithead. sarah is canon, so joel is a dad. distracted driving. talks of consuming food. reader has mental illness, mainly described as anxiety, but could be other illnesses. I make it pretty vague. the reader likes football? lmfao

author's note: this is the prelude to the many parts I have planned for these two. this is sort of just setting up everything. I want a slow burn for these two, so hopefully these first couple parts make you guys sweat with anticipation. I also wanna quickly thank all of you for the love on the preview of this fic. I hope you all enjoy it! let me know what y'all think. YEEHAW!

“Sign here and she’s all yours.”

When you brought the pen to the dotted line, you knew that this was going to be the start of your new life. 

While you were nervous about taking on such a huge project, you were ready to find solace in your alone time and work on yourself along with the beautiful farmhouse. You needed some peace and quiet, anyway. 

She was set on 20 acres of land on the outskirts of a small town called Taylor. The land looked like something out of a movie, it’s rolling hills and sprawling fields. 

The house was about 130 years old and needed a lot of TLC. You found it online after hours of scrolling. It was still liveable, but the older couple who owned it before moved to a retirement community and could not keep up with the maintenance. When the inheritance hit your bank account, you called the local realtor and told them you would be flying out there to check it out. When the car pulled up the long driveway, you knew that it would be yours. 

Texas was a new start for you. And boy, were you ready for it. 

You did not have a lot to move in, just a small UHaul full of boxes of clothes and miscellaneous trinkets. You left your furniture in your shared apartment in New York. You needed to find something that was more your style, anyway. 

You moved everything yourself. You were not sure you were ready to trust anyone to help you move in. You knew no one locally, anyway.

It took about three days to get settled, and by that, you simply put up a shower curtain and finally put sheets on your mattress on the floor. You had also created a laundry list of random things you wanted to get done around the house in the next month. Priority number one was getting the bathrooms working. The toilet downstairs doesn’t stop running and your upstairs one won’t flush at all. 

You decided that today was the day you would go out and buy some furniture for your living room and bedroom. You would also inquire to some locals about a plumber. It would take you days to work up the courage to reach out to someone in the phone book, so here’s to hoping you just run into someone on the street. 

You hop into the sedan that you were renting until you could buy a car. It was nice but it was no match for your long dirt driveway. You already expected to pay extra for all the dings on the exterior. 

The roads that lead into Main Street are long and winding. You loved driving, so when it was nice enough to put the windows down, you did so. 

Since there’s no one on this specific stretch, you decide to switch the CD you had shoved into the disc drive, opting for another mix you had made years ago. The radio never played what you wanted, especially the local stations in Taylor. 

In your distracted scramble for the CD, you don’t take note of the large stallion running next to your car. The CD is wedged between the seat and the main console and your fingers cannot reach the awkward position. 

You’re not speeding. But when a giant horse runs out in front of you, you can not hit the break quickly enough. You stop breathing, bracing for impact. You jerk the wheel slightly, swerving away from the steed.  Before your front end can make an impact, the horse is snatched back towards the divot in the road. 

You are in complete and utter shock over how abruptly it all happened. 

Your eye eventually catches a man on horseback, his cowboy hat shields most of his face, but you are more focused on how built this man looks. His biceps were straining against his button-up shirt as he held the lasso taut against his chest. His legs were locked around the brown stallion he was on, his jeans riddled with mud and dust. He had dark curls that peaked out from under his hat.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” You yell, your car slowly inching forward from its spot in the middle of the road, “Where did that thing even come from?”

The mysterious cowboy just shakes his head and trots away, clicking his tongue to guide the horse back into the field. 

Your heart felt like it may leap out of your chest. A car was chugging down the road ahead of you, so you knew you had to move out of the way. You turn into your lane and slowly start down the road again.

You do not even bother trying to find the CD, again. You would rather sit in complete silence. 

-

When you make it to the small stretch of downtown, your heart rate slows down. You spot a local furniture store that looks a bit dated. It was your best bet plus, you wanted to stand on solid ground and gain your bearings. 

You parallel park rather terribly and hop out of your car. You huff loudly, throwing your purse over your shoulder and slamming the door behind you. 

A hot cowboy saved your life. 

It’s the most Texas thing that’s happened to you since you moved here. 

You head inside the storefront. A smaller white-haired lady sits at the front desk, her head in a gossip magazine. 

“Well, hello there,” You muster in your best cheery voice, trying to act like you did not almost die, “I’m lookin’ for some furniture.”

She chuckles as she places her reading next to the register, “Well, you came to the right place, sweetheart.”

You return the laugh, glancing around the large store. Couches and recliners in rows in the front, wooden bed sets lining the back wall. You were so indecisive, you were not completely sure where to start. 

“I need a bedroom set and a couch or two. I just moved into th-”

“The old Caldwell farmhouse,” She cuts you off, hopping off her stool, “Saw you movin’ in a couple days ago. My boy is your neighbor.”

The joke about small towns is always true, you know that already. Everyone knows everyone else’s business. You could not shit without someone knowing about it. 

You raise your eyebrows, acting like you’re shocked she knows about you already. “Yes, that’s right. Your boy?”

“My oldest son, Joel. He lives across the way from ya,” She starts gesturing towards the couches, “Pop a squat on one and see which one ya like.”

You end up sitting on every couch before landing on a brown leather one with a matching loveseat. The old woman is a great saleswoman on top of being sickly sweet. She told you since you are one of her first customers of the month, she would give you a great discount on a coffee table. You were a sucker for a good deal. 

You knew what bed set you wanted immediately. It was a light-washed wood with tall pillars sticking out of every corner. It came with two matching dressers and one nightstand. It was only you, so you didn’t quite care about another side table anyway. 

When the lady starts tallying up your total, you watch the slow-moving downtown. A couple walking across the street into the small diner. An older gentleman walking his small dog. The rickety old trucks that loudly took up the roads. 

You’re so stuck in your head, you don’t even hear what your total is. All you do is hand over your credit card. She smiles and giggles as she swipes the card. 

“So I’ll have my boy deliver it to you tomorrow. He is busy workin’ today, but I’ll have him get it to you. He’s quite the handyman, always busy doing jobs around town. Will you be home in the morning?”

You would have to have some strange man in your home to set up the heavy wooden furniture. It made the hairs on your arm stand up. You knew you would not be able to haul it all, so you had to take the leap of faith and hope and pray this frail old lady’s son is not a serial killer. Or stalker. Or both. 

You needed your furniture, after all. 

It will be okay, you tell yourself. 

“U-uh, I will,” You swallow, “I don’t work right now, so I’ll be home all day.”

“Oh, goody! I will send him your way in the morning. He may have his brother with him just to get the bed up your stairs, but I promise they are good boys. If they aren’t, you come to me and their mama will deal with them.”

You laugh nervously, “Of course, thank you so much.”

–

You had woken up late, your anxiety creeping up on you last night. Your brain would not stop racing. You didn’t fall asleep until 2 am. You hop out of bed around 10:30 and wrap yourself in a cardigan. You have been leaving all the windows open at night, but you can tell the seasons are shifting because it gets so cold at night. 

The doorbell rings and it’s like your heart falls out of your chest. You know that after you open this door, you’re welcoming in someone completely new and unexpected and it makes your whole body jitter. You make your way to the front door and take a deep breath before opening it. 

Of course. It’s him. The hot cowboy. 

It made sense. The endless green across from your home had to be part of his property. The road you almost died on yesterday was right beside his land. His house was tucked right across from the end of your driveway, with countless barns spread across a couple of acres.

You were secretly hoping he would be some silly-looking hillbilly, but instead, you find out your delivery man is the ridiculously attractive cowboy from the day before. His hair is tidy and dark without the cowboy hat on. It’s peppered with some white hairs, but it only adds to his appearance. His flannel has the top three buttons undone and his jeans are stained with age. You are finally able to get a good look at his face with no shadows covering his permanent scowl. 

He had to be about 10 years older than you. You were not too far off from wrinkles, but you were still young enough to bear children without being considered geriatric. 

He squints at you when you swing the door open. The sun is hitting his eyes, highlighting the warm rich brown color. 

“Howdy neighbor,” He greets, a small smirk plays on his lips, “’m Joel. Nice to meet you officially.”

You introduce yourself, trying not to stutter as you say your name. He made you nervous. You chalk it up to just being nervous around men in general. But it’s the way his eyes trailed you as you moved just slightly.

You feel the need to clear the air because of the way he’s staring through you. 

“And uh, listen, about yesterday,” You try to apologize, but he cuts you off by raising his hand. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time an outsider got themselves hurt bein’ reckless down the backroads. Just glad you didn’t hit my horse.”

The response has a bit of a bite to it. You back up a step, your body also taken aback by his directness. You are used to confrontational people, but you’re not used to Southern folk being that way. 

“No, next time I’ll aim for the ditch and tell my insurance that there was a silly cowboy in the road that I had to miss.”

You can tell by the sheepish smile on his face that he was not expecting you to be feisty.

“Don’t think they’d give ya’ much money for that,” He says in a hushed but matter-of-fact tone.

You relax your shoulders, trying to collect yourself. “Probably not.” 

He turns back to his truck that has your bed frame in the back of it, disregarding the previous statements. “My brother is comin’ by in a few to help me get this stuff in.”

“Well, let’s not let all the air out of the house right now,” You extend the door wider for him. You are giving this man full access to your home now. You try to suppress your obsessive thoughts and instead decide that you know exactly what you can have him do while you wait. You remember his mom told you he was good with his hands, and since he wants to be snarky to you in the comfort of your own home, you would try to pick his mind about some of your home projects. “Come in, let me ask you something.” 

You begin, gesturing him into the entryway. He accepts the offer, kicking his boots off on the porch. You appreciate his thoughtfulness and for a second, you realize you may be the asshole. 

“Mama told you I was a handyman, didn’t she?”

You giggle, finding it funny that he could read the situation you were about to put him in. “She sure did.”

“She needs to stop tellin’ folks that,” His accent is so thick and syrupy, that it makes your insides tingle, “Got too many people askin’ me to fix their stuff.”

You guide him to the bathroom right off the living room and kitchen, “You know much about plumbing?”

“I’m assumin’ you don’t,” He mutters, “What do you have goin’ on?”

You point to the loudly running toilet, “This thing won’t stop running no matter what I do.”

“Well, what have you tried doin’?”

You both stand in the hallway, you looking up at him with furrowed brows, him looking down at you with anticipation. He was quick-witted, and you started to hate how much you liked it. He gave your sassiness a run for it’s money.

“I’ve flushed it a bunch of times. Cursed at it and kicked it,” He stares at you blankly. It makes your stomach roll, “Jesus, Cowboy, can you give a girl a break?”

He enters the narrow bathroom, approaching the toilet like there may be a bomb in it. He reaches towards the handle and jiggles it violently, which makes you giggle a bit. That’s exactly what you did. 

“So, why here?” He questions, squatting in front of the bowl. He continues to mess with the handle while you process his no-context question.

“What Texas or this bathroom?”

He chuckles, his smile spreading across his beautifully tanned skin. 

“You got tons of jokes, huh?” 

You don’t respond, just shrug your shoulders. He stands up, wiggling the top of the tank off the toilet. You watch his hands lock onto the sides of it, ensuring it will not drop off and shatter on the dated tile. 

“Texas,” He strains, freeing his left hand to mess with the handle. You lean against the door frame. 

You are not even sure why Texas. You just needed to get as far as you could away from New York. You did not want your past to catch up with you, and you did not want to get stuck in a city again. But you could not share all this with a random stranger. He may be in your house, looking at your commode, but you can’t completely trust him yet. 

“I just wanted a change of scenery. I always wanted a farmhouse.”

“Lots of upkeep,” He jabs, doing one more once over of the tank, “‘M thinking you may need a new float or chain. I can get my tools tomorrow and come over to fix it. May need to order a new part, though.”

You push off the wall, arms still crossed over your front. He puts the top back on and finally makes eye contact with you. 

He would come over again? To fix your toilet? 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, ‘m sure it’s the chain or float.”

“No, I m-mean,” You start to stumble over your words. You swallow, collecting yourself for a moment so you do not look crazy to him. “Are you sure you’re okay coming back over?”

He gives you a thin-lipped smile, “What are neighbors for?”

-

His brother arrives in a rickety old truck at about 15 past 11. He looks a lot like him, but shorter. He has those same eyes though, permanently tired. 

“Nice to meet ya, ma’am. ‘M Tommy.”

You grab his hand to shake it and he lingers a bit longer than you anticipated. Joel stayed on your front porch, putting his boots back on to start unloading the furniture. 

You are thankful the weather was kind today, especially since every evening this week has been stormy. The sun was beating mighty hard on the men as they collaborated on getting your furniture inside.

While they get everything set up, you busy yourself making lunch. You get the bright idea to make them each a sandwich. It’s the least you could do. 

You pile the cold-cut turkey and cheese onto the white bread you had, topping it with some mayo. When you hear their footsteps trailing down the stairs, you race out with the sandwiches on a porcelain plate.

“For your troubles,” You say before standing in their path to the door. Tommy smiles brightly, instantly snatching a sandwich from the plate. 

“Thanks, darlin’,” He takes a big bite, humming in satisfaction. He walks around you, leaving you standing in front of Joel. His eyes are piercing, his lips ajar a bit, but nothing is coming out. 

“Turkey and cheese, I promise.”

He reaches out grabbing the sandwich from you, “No sweet tea to go with it?”

Your heart sinks, instantly becoming self-conscious of your decision to be nice to these hicks. He was so intimidating with his steely expressions and broad shoulders. There was an essence about him that did not speak to his stone-cold exterior. It was more gentle. But you could only see hints of it when he smiled. 

He can tell the wheels in your head are spinning. Before you can speak, takes a bite of the sandwich and shakes his head. 

“‘m kidding, Yankee. Thank you, I ‘preciate it.”

You settle for letting out a long sigh and returning to your kitchen. You spend a couple of minutes, putting back all the ingredients in their proper places. 

You hear Tommy yell for Joel, his voice kind of panicked. You race out the front door and see Tommy balancing your coffee table off the side of the truck. Joel is running to his aid, the dust from your driveway kicking up behind him. You hold your breath watching Joel help him balance the wooden piece of furniture. 

“Can’t have you breakin’ your back before homecoming,” Joel fusses, guiding the legs of the table to the ground, “You know damn well Maria would have me, too.”

“Yeah, what’s a homecoming game without the head coach?”

You perk up, instantly becoming interested in the conversation that you weren’t supposed to be listening in on. The two men lift the table and start heading your way, right on the threshold. 

“You coach football?” You ask Tommy, trying not to show your excitement. You loved football, it reminded you of Sundays with your grandfather. You never got the privilege to go to an actual game, even in high school. 

“Yes, ma’am, for the local high school in Taylor. We are gonna make it to the state championships this year.” 

You glance at Joel when he says it. He rolls his eyes, “Gotta win at least one game to do that, Tommy.”

They place the coffee table right in front of your new leather couch. Tommy grunts, trying not to argue with his brother in front of a strange lady. 

He can’t help himself, though. He instantly snaps back at Joel.

“You know them boys have been practicin’ day in and day out. Why ya gotta be so negative?”

Joel places his hands on his hips, “Cause Sarah told me the guys in her grade are a bunch of dummies. I highly doubt they are ready to kick Georgetown’s asses.”

Tommy starts towards the door, “Just cause Sarah says it, doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“I believe my honor student daughter before I believe my dumbass little brother.”

You are not shocked Joel has a daughter. You are just shocked that she’s in high school. He looked too young to have a teen, but then again, he did have some grays sprouting. You cross your arms over your chest, watching Joel scoot the table across your hardwoods. 

You’re staring at his hands, trying to conjure up a wedding ring on his left finger. But there’s nothing. Maybe he did not wear it when he was working. Maybe he just forgot to put it on this morning. Maybe his passive aggressiveness towards you was simply to ensure there was distance between you and him, giving you subtle hints that he was taken. 

He finally glances up at you, stopping in his tracks when he notes your gaze. 

“Somethin’ wrong?”

You have no clue what to say because you are so trapped in your head about him. He’s a stranger, god damn it.

“N-no, everything is okay.”

“Don’t look it.”

“I just was not expecting the coffee table to look so dark against the hardwood,” you lie, pulling whatever you could think of out of your hat, “Doesn’t it look dark?”

Joel looks between the floor and the table, shifting in his stance, “Don’t know bout that.” 

“O-oh okay.”

“Alright, well we got ya all set up now,” He starts to head towards the entryway. You trail behind him like a lost puppy, “I’ll be by sometime tomorrow with that part for the toilet. I’m expectin’ another sandwich for that one.”

You grab your front door as you wave to Tommy as he heads for his truck. He smiles and gives you a head nod. Joel turns back to you, his ears perked up for a sarcastic jab from you.

  You think back to something he said to you earlier. You crack a smile, “What are neighbors for?”

PART 1 COMING SOON!

taglist (ppl who asked to be tagged): @joeldjarin @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @mysaviorjoelmiller @brittmb115 @missladym1981 @jasminedragoon

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #cowboy!joel #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller au #joel miller angst #joel miller tlou #joel x reader

[zialltops]

honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

h&h masterlist

Cowboy!Joel (41) X F!Reader (25) | 48k | wip | explicit | 18+ minors dni | enemies to lovers | slow burn | au: no cordyceps outbreak | oral (f receiving) | semi-public sex

After four years away at collage, you’re finally home with the tools and knowledge to save your family ranch. That is, if their ranch hand would stay out of your way

Or: Ranch hand Joel doesn’t know how to handle the return of his bosses prodigy daughter, her snarky little attitude, or her sinfully tight jeans.

i: Oklahoma Smokeshow

ii: Northern Attitude

iii: Blue

iv: Shake The Frost

v: On My Way To You

vi: If She Wants A Cowboy

vii: You Don’t Want That Smoke

Viii: What Was I Thinkin’

ix: You’re My Texas

AO3 | Spotify Playlist

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #cowboy!joel #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #the last of us #joel the last of us #dbf!joel #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #dilf!joel

[anchoeritic]

okay hear me out here...dbf and cowboy joel? too much hotness or not enough?

oh you’ve lost your damn mind. this pairing? you’re changing lives (me).

cowboy!joel being your dad’s best friend and is almost always in charge of you whenever your dad’s not around or out of town. or a good plot twist would be: meeting him for the first time in front of your dad but you already know him due to a past interaction at the bar that led to an unforgettable night of moans and orgasms.

already flustered, you wouldn’t be able to look at him in his eyes. after that one night, you couldn’t ever stop thinking about him and you were sure it was the same for him. there was no doubt about the attraction you felt for each other, it was something electric. even with no drinks in your system, you felt a pull towards him, to his lap. it took nothing more than a couple of words from him to get your panties pooled down at your ankles, back pressed up against the wall behind.

“you usually this loud, darlin’?” he chuckled softly against your lips, his nose nudging against yours with every kiss you stole from him. his hand was already down south, making its way to your warm cunt. you could feel his hand cupping you gently, fingers already soaking in your slick. “you complainin’, miller?” you shot back at him, pulling away to unbutton his flannel. “shut up and fuckin’ kiss me.”

#cowboy!joel #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #the last of us #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

[guess-my-next-obsession]

the idea of cowboy!frontier era!joel x oc love triangle situation with tommy has been lodged in my brain for the last week and i’ve gone and written 4.5k (as of right now)

so here’s a taste of what i’m hoping is gonna be a delicious mini-series:

#joel miller #wips #cowboy!joel #literally all the butch & sundance vibes meets little house on the prairie

[anti-heroism]

the way pedro has played a cowboy, a space cowboy, an apocalypse cowboy and an old western cowboy

#pedro pascal #agent whiskey #kingsman the golden circle #din djarin #space cowboy #the mandalorian #joel miller #the last of us hbo #apocalypse cowboy #strange way of life #silva #the multiverse of cowboys #I LOVE THEM #theyre all queer

[molt3ngold]

a study of the pose

#AGENT WHISKEY CORE #god I love cowboys #Joel miller core #barking #save a horse ride a cowboy #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 #cowboy #western aesthetic #southern aesthetic #moodboard #Joel miller #pedro pascal #kingsman #agent whiskey

[macfrog]

cowboy like me | masterlist

dbf!joel miller x f!reader | ao3 | playlist

back home in austin after five years away, you're looking for something to do with your summer. what you don't expect, is to find that something in the form of joel miller. quietly charming, ruggedly handsome, flannel-donned joel. you know. your dad's best friend.

please check out individual chapter content warnings before reading!!! this series features adult content.

series warnings: age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing, alcohol + dr*g use, mentions of pregnancy & periods, physical violence, allusions to cheating, smut, angst, fluff, softdom!joel mostly (some jealous/protective/possessive!joel along the way).

main series

chapter 1: greetings from austin, tx

chapter 2: shameless

chapter 3: grilled

chapter 4: moneyball

chapter 5: welcome home

chapter 6: company

chapter 7: bloodstream

chapter 8: lend me some sugar

chapter 9: checkmate

chapter 10: ride it, cowgirl

chapter 11: illicit affairs

chapter 12: hits different

chapter 12.5: if i had a gun

chapter 13: heart, body, soul

chapter 14: secrets

chapter 15: the sweetest con

bonus

➵ if patrick bateman were a woman

drabbles

➵ dragging joel to the eras tour ➵ sex tape [prelude to chapter 11] ➵ books joel would be into ➵ slow dancing in the kitchen ➵ joel versus a nightmare

#hello apologies for sharing this again i'm fixing my masterlists lmao hope ur having a nice day #cowboy like me #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #dad's best friend #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal #pedro pascal joel miller #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us hbo

[tightjeansjavi]

Hi!! Love your writing!! Can you write a cowboy fetish joel miller with boot riding 🥺🥺

Hi nonnie! Thank you for sending this in! It scratched my brain just ✨right✨ and I hope it does the same for you! I couldn’t just do some boot ridin’ without some plot ;) enjoy 🤠

Dinner & Diatribes

~word count: 3.7k~

Pairing | Cowboy/bounty hunter! Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: you’re the kind of love that Joel Miller has been dreaming of all his life

Warnings: smut,fluff, angst, cowboy in shining armor vibes, unprotected piv, boot ridin! dick slingin, mutual masturbation, voyeurism, implied age gap, dom/sub vibes, sir/mister kink, implied abuse (not by Joel) Joel is a bounty hunter during the Wild West, reader is a runaway bride wanted for murdering three men, filthy language, pining, protective! Joel, assumed unrequited love, swearing, AU that might not 100% be historically accurate but I tried! reader has no physical descriptions such a skin tone or body type, readers nickname is Chickadee, +18 minors dni! Let me know if I missed anything!

Joel Miller knows that keeping a bounty for himself ain’t the way to go about things..he knows that there’s consequences for his actions, an imminent problem would surely arise if he didn’t bring you back to the town you fled from. Wanted for the murders of three men. A wild untamable thing on the run is how the sheriff described you to Joel. And the most important detail of all; I don’t care if you bring her back alive, or in pieces.

And then Joel found you, tracked your trails for miles and miles through the barren rough terrain of the Wild West. You didn’t even put up a fight when you heard the distinct sound of thundering hooves drawing nearer and nearer. You were exhausted, dehydrated, and on the verge of collapsing to the dusty earth while vultures circled ahead.

This didn’t mean you gave up entirely when Joel Miller had you circled, cornered and lasso at the ready. That’s when he took notice of your state, your attire. A once glittering wedding dress now hanging on by threads of shredded fabric. The bottom tooled fabric was now a dirty sand color, blending in with the dirt. Remnants of your eye makeup cracked and stained beneath your eyes and cheekbones that were once painted in a pretty pigment.

He watched from the saddle of his horse as you sank down to your knees, awaiting your inevitable fate to be delivered. “Have you come to turn me in, Mister?”

His head cocked to the side, eyes studying your vulnerable form intently. You couldn’t see his face as it was obstructed from your view with a tied bandana, but even from where you sat on your knees, you could see that his eyes were a deep shade of brown, dark and mysterious.

He dismounted his horse swiftly, silently, boots tearing up dusty patches of earth with each heavy step he took. The spurs on the back of his boots chimed through the air as he stopped in front of you. His broad frame casted a shadow over your kneeling form. His hands were encased in worn leather, and he smelled of tobacco smoke, saddle soap, and musk.

He crouched down, hat tipping forward while one leather clad hand reached for your jaw, thumb brushing across your skin as he tilted it upwards, forcing you to look into his eyes. He saw your grime and dried blood stained face up close. Your eyes flickered nervously as he turned your head to the side.

“Ain’t you gonna get on with it and turn me in? What’re you draggin’ this out for, huh? You caught me, mister. Go and collect your fuckin’ reward.” You spat defiantly into the dirt, a glob of salvia landing on the toe of his boot.

His grip tightened around your chin, jaw ticking sharp like a knife, eyes narrowing in on your face and the subtle wobble of your severely cracked and dry lower lip.

“What happened to you?” He finally spoke. His voice reminded you of fire crackling, ominous thunder and heavy rain. Thick, gravelly, deeper than the Grand Canyon itself.

“What’s it matter if I tell ya, huh? You gonna take pity on me or somethin’ mister?”

He was silent again, appearing deep in thought as he continued to study your face, searching through the grime and dirt for any clues..then, he saw it; The eyes of someone that suffered abuse. His grip around your chin softened

“Stand up.” He commanded.

You struggled to your feet, confusion etched in your features, the obvious sway in your step before two strong hands grabbed your shoulders to steady you.

“We’ll have to move fast.”

“What’re you—” You were still confused, head spinning from his words and malnourishment.

“I don’t turn in folks that killed outta self defense, Chickadee. And certainly not a woman that killed her abusers.” He gave you a curt, tight nod. “Better you than I cause I woulda tied those sons a bitches up and dragged them through the fuckin’ desert.” He rasped.

“You’re..not turnin’ me in?”

“No. Ain’t morally right for me t’do so.” He said softly.

And that’s how you ended up riding through the countryside with Joel Miller to protect you. You’d patch up his shiners, his wounds, keep his belly full with hearty stews that kept him strong and alert. You’d clean his gun, shine his leather till you could see your reflection in the fabric. And in return, he protected you. He never asked for any sexual favors, or for your hand. He viewed you as his equal, his partner.

It hurt sometimes, to flirt with the man you owed your life to and for him to brush your attempts off everytime. As if you were a pesky horsefly, or insignificant gnat. Yet, you couldn’t help it. Joel was handsome, ruggedly so and you’d often find yourself fantasizing about kissing him, feeling his fingers touch you in places you craved to be touched in. To feel his caress on your skin, the bite of his leather, the scrape of his scruffy beard. The stretch of his cock inside of your wet cunt.

You were driving yourself mad with want for a man that didn’t want you back, or so you assumed that was to be the case.

That couldn’t have been further from the truth.

Joel Miller was on the edge to finally just give in when he caught you one night with your skirts hiked above your thighs with your boot clad feet firmly planted in the dirt. Under the pale glow of the moonlight above, and the glittery shining stars, he could see your hand between your thighs, touching yourself and moaning his name.

It felt wrong to watch you, to invade your privacy and your modesty. But he’d be damned if he’d go another night without feeling the hug of your pussy around his aching cock. Or to feel the taste of your kissable lips on his tongue. Damned. Damned. Damned. Fuck, he couldn’t survive another second without knowing what it was like to be loved by you.

For years he had pushed you away despite knowing the pain it caused both you and him. A man could only last so long pretending to not love a woman that he’d throw his life down for in a heartbeat. That’s the kinda love Joel Miller had been dreaming of all his life.

Your head snapped at the sound of a twig snapping behind you as your hand stilled between your thighs. Your heartbeat rattled wildly in your rib cage at the fear and excitement of being caught.

Oh, please. Please let tonight be the night.

“Don’t stop on my account, Chickadee.” He drawled deeply before stepping closer to where you sat.

The heat rushed to your cheeks like a wildfire spreading, your stomach clenched inwards as you began to touch yourself once more, eyes staying locked on his own.

When he was close enough, you used his shins for support as you rubbed your swollen clit in tight, fast circles.

“No.” He shook his head. “Slower. Take your time, darlin.’ There ain’t no rush. Let me see you.” He rasped, before slowly sinking into the dirt behind you. His strong thighs corralled your own almost possessively as his hands gently grasped the hem of your skirts, pulling them up higher. You felt the brush of his beard against your cheek when his chin came to rest along your shoulder. “Nice and slow for me.”

“I’m—sorry, Joel.” You whispered ashamedly through the cool darkness of the desert night. You slowed your fingers, dragging them through the building slick that pooled between the seam of your cunt.

“Sorry for what, Chickadee? Sorry for touchin’ yourself? For moanin’ my name? Why would you be sorry for that?..” His deep tone sent sparks flying through your body as you leaned back into his strong chest.

“Because—you don’t want me, and this is wrong for me to do. To touch myself and moan a man’s name that doesn’t desire me the way I desire him.” A whimper was clawing up your throat, begging to be released, but you wouldn’t allow it.

He dropped the fabric of your skirts briefly only to dip his hand between your thighs and place his massive palm over the top of your hand, guiding your fingers over your clit once more. “This man desires you plenty, Chickadee. I was only tryin’ to protect your modesty..and our hearts.” He whispered against your ear, lips ghosting across your exposed skin. “Been wantin’ to love you all these years we’ve spent together.” He admitted. “I’m a terrible, rotten man for keepin’ you starved this long..” he trailed off, pressing open mouthed kisses at the spot where your jaw met your neck. “M’sorry.”

Those were the last words you ever expected a fucking bounty hunter to whisper..let alone to you?

A shuddered breath slipped past your parted lips, just for him. Your head lolled to the side, granting him easier access as your lashes fluttered shut. “I’ve felt like..such a fool, Joel. A dirty little fool for a bounty hunter.” You took your lower lip between your teeth, biting down harshly and drawing blood to the surface. You let him take full control of your hand, letting him guide and manipulate your fingers to play with yourself just right.

“Shh..I know now, Chickadee. M’sorry, truly. But I’m here now, ain’t I? M’here. Here forever if you’ll have me. I understand if I've bruised and neglected your heart far too many times..I can accept your rejection if it is coming.”

You could detect the edge of sadness in his tone, the acceptance already settling into his bones and heart.

“Joel, please kiss me.” You nearly begged him, dying to finally know what his lips would feel like on your own.

“Why didn’t ya just say that sooner, Chickadee.” He chuckled. “I wish ya woulda just grabbed me by the breeches years ago and knocked some sense into my thick skull. Woulda taken your ache away a long time ago, darlin.’” He said in a hushed whisper. “But I know you were afraid..can’t blame ya for that. Not really. ‘Specially since I ain’t the nicest of men to come by.”

He was taking too long, and you were an impatient woman.

“Joel.” You huffed, fighting the urge to curse him out before you decided to take matters into your own hands, finally. Tomorrow was never promised, not when you and Joel were constantly on the run.

He kept rambling on until he felt the soft touch of your fingertips brushing against the patches in his scruffy beard and the magnetic pull drawing him in closer, closer till he could taste your mingled breath on his lips.

Here in the middle of the desert, with nothing but the moon and stars as a source of light, you finally knew what it was like to kiss Joel Miller. You learned his lips quickly, liking that they were both soft and a bit chapped. As you licked slowly into one another’s mouths you could taste the faint remnants of tobacco on his tongue. It was a bruising kiss, one that both ignited the fire deep within you, and sent a delicious tingle curving down your spine.

So, this is what the girls back home were all talking about. Being kissed by a real man.

And then you found yourself straddling him in the dirt, saying fuck all to your modesty because you had never wanted a man more than you did now. And you wished that your mother could see you now. To see what her perfect little daughter had turned into.

Fuck you, mother. Fuck you for forcing me to marry that monster.

Joel brought you back down to earth with both his lips and his words tattooed on your skin. He caged you with his body, acting as a shield from the chilly night ear that sent goosebumps rising.

He worked your blouse open, growing more frustrated by the minute when the clasps wouldn’t automatically give. He was desperate to feel more of you, all of you because he knew then that you were his, and he was yours. And if you’d end up being the death of him, so be it. At least he could go out being loved rather than unloved.

“You gonna fuck me now, mister? Gonna take what belongs to you, Joel?” You mumbled against his lips in a chasing kiss, growing more desperate as the seconds ticked by.

“Gonna do more than that, Chickadee.” He rasped. This was a promise, and a man such as Joel always kept his promises.

The howl of a Coyote far off in the distant sent uneasy nerves rolling through you, because the realization hit you then that you and Joel were out in the fucking wilderness, and you suddenly felt bare and exposed.

“Jus’ a coyote, doll. He’s singin’ to the moon. We’re safe here, I promise. Ain’t ever gonna let somethin’ happen to you again, Chickadee.” His strong calloused, yet gentle hands came to cup for your face. His deep brown eyes met yours through the pale glow of the moonlight casted over your faces. “I swear on my life, you will always be safe with me.”

and while the lone coyote sang his song to the moon, Joel Miller had you singing your own song, just for his ears too.

After that night spent together, you never had a night where you slept alone. Joel was always there. Holding you, kissing you, fucking you into a blissful state.

He still feared for your safety, and you feared for his. This would never change, but you refused to live in fear for the rest of your life.

It was a boiling hot day under the blazing desert sun. You and Joel were moving west towards California. Hearing about the gold rush there sounded like as good of an opportunity as any. Not even just for the gold, but the prospects of a new life. Joel had dreams of owning a ranch, sheep specifically and living out his days with you by his side.

“Come join me for a swim, cowboy.” You were sitting side by side under the one single tree along the river's edge. Your two horses were drinking their fill after traveling for days in these conditions.

Your cowboy had his arms crossed behind his head, biceps bulging under the thin fabric of his shirt. His hat was tipped down over his head. You only witnessed Joel being fully relaxed on a few occasions where he would let his guard down for just mere minutes.

“Mmm. That’s alright, doll. Y’go on and enjoy yourself.” He said with a lazy sigh.

“Just a quick one together? Please?” You reached over and gently lifted the brim of his hat just enough so you could see his closed eyes.”

“Chickadee..” he said in a low warning tone, peeking one eye open to look up at you before he shut it once more.

“You’re no fun.” You huffed while releasing your gentle grip on his hat.

“M’plenty fun, doll. I gotta keep watch, anyway. Can’t do that if I’m stark naked in the river with ya. What if someone tries to sneak up? Won’t have my gun at arms reach.” He sighed.

“I know, Joel.”

Maybe when we get to California..he won’t have to worry about all of that.

He sat up turning his body to face you before his palm came to rest upon your cheek in a gentle caress. His thumb brushed across your lower lip, tugging it down gently before he leaned in and kissed you sweetly. “Now go on and cool off, Chickadee.”

You kissed him back with the same amount of sweetness before you pulled away and gave his nose a light boop. His face scrunched inwards before he reached around and gave your ass a light and playful swat that sent you giggling as you rose to your feet.

You shot him a seductive wink before you raced down to the river's edge, kicking up a cloud of dirt with your boots.

Joel watched from afar with a hooded gaze as you stripped down from your skirts and blouse followed by your unlaced boots. He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself when your one boot wouldn’t give right away and you nearly tripped before finally getting it off. He kept watch as you dove into the crystal clear waters and reameraged moments later.

He reached into his pack, pulling out an apple and pocket knife while you splashed around like a kid on Christmas. He cut off a small slice before biting it off on the edge of the knife, chewing thoughtfully as he leaned back against the sturdy tree.

When we get to California..I’m going to marry her.

He didn’t want to end your fun so soon..but it was time to get moving again. He brought his thumb and forefinger into his mouth, whistling to let you know that it was time to pack up.

You had been floating peacefully on your back with your eyes closed when you heard his whistle that immediately tore you from your daydream state.

He was just about to stand up from where he was resting against the tree when you emerged from the river. You reminded him of a goddess. Bare, beautiful, skin sprinkled in water droplets that were kissed by the sun. You looked unreal, and he was the luckiest man alive.

“C’mon, Chickadee. We gotta head out.” He called for you when you were within earshot.

“I’m coming!” You bent down to gather up your clothes before the idea struck you. “Can I dry off first, please?”

He let out a grumbled sigh before he ultimately nodded his head in agreement. A few more minutes couldn’t hurt..

“Jus’ till ya dry off, doll.”

With your clothes and boots gathered up in your bare arms, you approached him casually, setting everything down on your nearby saddle while he watched you with piqued curiosity.

“I was thinking about you out there..laying on my back and feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin..” you trailed off.

“Is that so? Hmm..what were you thinkin’ about, Chickadee?” His eyes slowly trailed down your bare body. From the swell of your breasts, down your tummy and thighs and what lay between them.

“Want to take a guess, cowboy?” You asked teasingly.

His brow raised as a grin tugged along the corner of his lips. A game is what you were playing, and he was the willing participant.

“Based on your tone, I’m gonna guess it’s got somethin’ to do with..my cock?” He wiggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner while his hand casually came to rest between his own thighs. Oh, he was playing alright.

“Mmm..perhaps I was thinkin’ of ridin’ your cock right under the shade of this tree..but that would be too obvious, Joel.” Your eyes drifted down to where his hand was before the traveled down the expanse of his strong thighs and ending at the toe of his leather boots.

He caught onto your drift almost immediately and you saw his pupils begin to darken. “Y’wanna ride my boot? Is’that it? Well, ain’t you a filthy thing, Chickadee. You wanna get ‘em all shined up for me? Drag that sweet cunt of yours over them?”

His eyes stayed locked on yours in a challenging stare while he palmed himself through his pants to relieve the growing tension.

“I do, sir. I really, really, really want to ride your boot.” You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks because never in your wildest dreams did you expect to take part in debauchery such as this.

“On your knees then, girl. Kiss ‘em for me.” He fell right into character with a flip of a switch.

You found yourself lowering onto your knees without a care in the world about the dirt while you bent down over his boots, pressing a kiss to the leather, dragging your tongue down the stitched seam.

“That’s it, doll. Get ‘em nice and shined up for me.” He said while popping the button on his pants open and pulling his cock free from the confines.

“You gonna touch yourself while I ride your boot, mister?” You were sitting upright again before you crawled closer, letting your hands rest along his thighs as you positioned yourself right above his left boot. The imprint of your kiss had already begun to dry from the scorching heat.

“Yeah, doll. I’m gonna fist my cock while you ride my boot like the dirty Chickadee that you are.” He spat into his palm before he wrapped his fist around the base of his cock just as you lowered yourself over the expanse of his boot, taking your lip between your teeth when you dragged your clit right across the smooth leather.

“Fuuck me. Ain’t that a sight. Look at you, fuckin’ filthy girl. S’feel good, Chickadee?”

You rolled your hips forward slowly at the rate that he was pumping his fist. A soft whimper slipped past your lips while your eyes stayed locked on his.

“Feels so good, mister. So—so good.” You moaned freely with each steady roll of your hips, chasing that high. Nothing would ever compare to Joel’s cock. You knew this, he knew this, and you also were aware that this little game would only last so long.

And then he watched you lose yourself completely on his boot with each roll and grind of your hips against the dampened leather. Crying out his name, nails digging into his covered thighs, head thrown back, tears nearly flooding your eyes.

He had the same sense of urgency and realization that nothing would ever compare to the warm hug of your pussy around his cock. That’s when the game ended as his strong arms came to lift you into his lap by your thighs. His lips met yours in a bruising kiss filled with intermingled moans and teeth clashing together when he finally slipped into your warmth.

California could wait a little longer, he wanted to savor this moment for as long as it lasted because now he had the love that he had been dreaming of all his life. Right here in his arms, cock buried to the hilt under the shade of this very tree. Right here with his Chickadee.

That’s the kinda love I’ve been dreaming of

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#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel the last of us #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel x reader #joel tlou #au joel miller #cowboy joel #bounty hunter joel #protective joel #joel miller one shot #joel miller imagine #joel miller story #joel x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Am I ashamed? No.

Am I sorry? Also no.

The tag is all @lola-lola-lola's fault lmao 😘

#joel miller #yes we’re sinning on a sunday #cowboy butts drive me nuts #the last of us

[jobean12-blog]

Cowboy for Keeps

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (Cowboy AU)

Word Count: 3,555

Summary: You’re a city girl and you’ve just moved into the country only to be saved not once but twice but a real life cowboy, who not only looks the part but is the perfect gentleman and you fall...hard. 

Author’s Note: Been thinking more and more about cowboy!Joel. And the new pics/gifs from his upcoming movie are great inspo! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you sweet Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: lots of sweet and soft fluff, some flirty fun, protective Joel because a guy at the bar is a jerk- but it’s all good, Joel to the rescue! 

Joel Miller Masterlist

You’re just about to pull the cash from your wallet when you feel a body close to you. Too close.

“Let me get that for ya little lady,” a man slurs, the stench coming off him a mix of booze and body odor.

You wrinkle your nose but paste on a small smile and say, “no thank you, I can pay for my own drink.”

He grabs your hand to stop you from handing the money to the bartender and you wrench it away, eyes wide with shock.

“I said I’d get it for ya,” he repeats. “’Round here we don’t let ladies as pretty as you pay for their drinks.”

“Well,” you start, standing from the bar stool. “Where I come from ladies can pay for their own damn drinks and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

The bar is suddenly quiet before it fills with the gruff mumbles and exclamations from the other patrons, mostly the men.

“Best let me buy ya the drink,” the man grits out, his face red. “Don’t wanna embarrass me now do ya’?”

“Honestly, I don’t care about embarrassing you considering I said NO thank you!”

You hold your chin high and cross your arms over your chest, only rocking back on your heels when the man stands and invades your personal space even more.

He lifts his hand and you start to stumble backward, unsure of his next move and that’s when strong arms wrap around your waist and you’re deftly moved out of the way and a large man stands protectively in between you and the drunk.

Except he’s not just a man. He’s a cowboy.

“You got a problem,” the cowboy growls, focusing his angry attention on the drunk guy, while keeping you safely behind him.

“Just tryin’ to buy the lady a drink Joel. I meant no harm,” the drunk man slurs.

“Well no means no so back the fuck off Stone,” the cowboy seethes, low and dangerous. “You know better than that.”

The man, Stone, turns redder than before and hangs his head, mumbling some kind of apology before shuffling back down the bar and sitting with a plop, his face still scrunched up in a mixture of anger and embarrassment. Joel stares at him for a beat before turning around to face you.

“You alright darlin’?” he asks.

You nod, unable to speak as you look him over.

Tall, with long legs clothed in tight jeans and a patterned button down rolled up to his elbows, exposing the corded muscles of his tanned forearms, and warm brown eyes that sparkle when you notice the edges crinkling with his smile.

“Mm hmm,” you answer, letting out an exhale. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure what he was going to do…”

“Nothin’,” Joel finishes. “He ain’t gonna do nothin’ darlin’. Not on my watch.”

He tips the brim of his hat and then holds out his hand.

“Name’s Joel.”

You extend your own and he wraps it in his warm and calloused fingers, the contact sending a jolt of awareness down your spine.

After introducing yourself you reach for your forgotten drink from earlier and take a long sip, noting how the atmosphere of the bar is back to normal again, filled with chatter, clinking glasses, and the sound of billiard balls knocking together.

“You sure you’re ok,” he asks again, seeing the slight tremble in your hand.

“Yeah, just a bit shaken up.”

“Alright then darlin’. You just holler if you need anything.”

With that Joel dips his chin and smiles before heading back to the other end of the bar to finish his game of pool.

You turn away from him but can’t help stealing a side eye peek as he struts off, loving the way his jeans hug his ass.

As much as you try to concentrate on finishing your drink you can’t keep your eyes away from the pool tables and when Joel leans back against the wall, one hand tucked into the back of his jeans and the other clutching the cue stick you realize he’s right out of a cowboy fantasy.

It’s in the width of his shoulders, his dark hair that’s just a little wild and peeking out from under his hat, his unbuttoned shirt that’s tucked neatly into his jeans, all supported by a sleek leather belt. He carries the whole look with ease.

Before he can catch you staring you silently chastise yourself and finish off the last of your beer then hail down the bartender to close your tab and actually pay for your last drink.

“It’s already been paid for,” the bartender explains with a smirk.

Your expression morphs into one of indignation as you open your mouth to argue, once again, that you don’t need any man paying for your drinks.

“It wasn’t Stone!” the bartender quickly says, holding up his hands. “You said no.”

“So then how did it get paid for?” you ask, narrowing your eyes.

“Joel paid,” the bartender says.

The information catches you off guard but for some reason doesn’t bother you at all. You smile at the bartender and throw down a nice tip then turn your attention to where Joel’s standing.

You lock eyes and he grins, giving you a wink and a tip of his hat before he’s called for his next shot.

Reluctant to leave but knowing you should start driving home before it gets dark you gather your bag and see yourself out, but not without taking one last glance behind you, your breath catching in your throat when you see Joel leaning over the pool table, his legs and ass on full display.

“Shit,” you mutter before pushing the door open and stepping out of the bar.

Since you’re still new to the area you’re using your GPS everywhere you go but apparently there’s some new construction work on the main road which causes you to turn off the first street you see.  You continue driving and notice the change in scenery almost immediately.  

Flat land stretches out to the horizon, now glowing pink and orange with the setting sun, and large farm houses and barns, as well as fences and stables, line the road.

You contemplate pulling over to check your phone but there’s hardly any service out here.

With a sigh of frustration you continue down the quiet road but your car starts to sputter and then jerks forward several times. You panic and quickly maneuver it to the side of the road just as it stops completely.  

“What the…?” you gulp.

You press on the gas and check the keys, pressing all the buttons on your dash but nothing happens. That’s when you notice your fuel tank is on E.

“Oh my god,” you cry. “This can’t be happening.”

You rest your head on the steering wheel and fight back the threat of tears through your curses. As you grab your phone and contemplate who the hell to call you hear the sound of hooves on the road and see a small cloud of dust stirring up behind a horse and rider, silhouetted by the setting sun at their backs.

Since you don’t know who it is you lock your doors and wait. The rider rounds your car and stops in front, far enough away so you can see him. He tugs the brim of his hat down to shield his eyes from the sun and leans on the horn of his saddle to look down at you with a smile.

“Joel,” you whisper, unlocking the doors.

He throws one long leg over his horse and holds the reins as he comes to your drivers side door.

You roll down the window.

“Hey there darlin’.”

“Hey,” you reply sheepishly.

“What are you doin’ sittin’ here on the side of the road?”

“Well…um…you see…I sorta ranoutofgas.”

“What was that sugar?” he asks, unable to understand your last rush of words.

“I ran out of gas!” you huff, averting your eyes.

“Aw come on now, that’s nothin’ to be ashamed of.”

Despite his words you can see the grin pulling at his lips.

“Don’t you dare laugh!” you chide. “Haven’t you ever run out of gas?”

He ponders your question then looks up at his horse, Whiskey.

“Well, good ‘ole Whiskey here never runs outta gas so….”

You purse your lips to fight your own smile.

“Come on,” he says, opening your car door. “Get your things I’ll give you a lift.”

“But I live pretty far from here,” you tell him.

“That’s fine. My ranch is just a few miles down the road. I have some gas and we’ll bring it back and fill your car up.”

“Wow,” you muse. “Twice in one day.”

“What’s that darlin’?”

“You saved me twice! In one day!”

“Must be my lucky day,” he says with a wink.

You grab your things and secure your car before looking up at Whiskey.

“Ever ride a horse before?” Joel asks.

“Maybe just once or twice, but a long time ago,” you admit.

He places his boot in the stirrup of the saddle and easily mounts the horse.

“Come on’ sugar.”

You take his outstretched hand, his large fingers closing around yours in a firm grip as he helps you on to the back of his horse.

You press yourself against his back to keep from sliding off, thankful he can’t see your face when you feel his hard warmth so close.

“Hold on,” he says before he snaps the reins and Whiskey starts off at a brisk trot.

You squeal and wrap your arms around his waist, clinging to him with fistfuls of his shirt.

When you feel his abs flex with laughter you squeeze him tighter, huffing out expletives.

The ride to his ranch doesn’t take long and by the time you’re turning down the dirt path to his farm house the sun is just dipping under the horizon and the first stars are blinking into existence in the darkening sky.

“Wow,” you whisper looking up as the horse slows.

“Not used to this kind of sky?” Joel asks as he offers you help off Whiskey.

“Not really,” you tell him, still looking up. “The city lights are beautiful but they’re always too bright…”

He nods in understanding, his hand still resting on your waist.

“Can I get you anythin’ darlin’?”

You bring your eyes back to him and smile. “Yeah, I’d love a drink please.”

He pops his elbow out at you and you slip your arm through his as he leads you up the porch steps.

When you get inside he releases you and heads for the fridge.

“Lemonade, iced tea? Water?” he asks.

“Iced tea sounds great, thanks.”

He pours two glasses and guides you back out onto the porch, sitting himself down on the large swing. You sit next to him, close enough that your shoulders brush every so often.

The sky has completely darkened now and the quiet of the night surrounds you. The only sounds you hear are the chirping crickets and the creaking of the porch swing as Joel uses his foot to push you back and forth.

“So do you always ride down the road hoping to catch a damsel in distress?” you ask, breaking the comfortable silence.

He chuckles before taking his hat off and placing it on his knee, his large hand running through his hair and tussling his already wild locks.

“Naw sugar, just enjoy my sunset rides. Nothin’ like that big open sky turning from blue to purple to orange and pink before it all sinks into blackness.”

“I bet,” you sigh, leaning your head back.

You can feel his eyes on your face and you turn his way, a tension, an attraction brewing between you and the anticipation makes you fidget, picking at your jeans.

“Why don’t you come watch the sunset with me tomorrow night?” he asks. “I know the perfect spot right here on the ranch.”

“Really?” you ask, your eyes bright. “That sounds amazing.”

He smiles warmly and stands carefully from the swing, offering his hand. You take it and stand, your arms brushing as you remain close. He places his hat back on his head and adjusts it, your eyes following his every move.  

“I’m gonna grab the gas for your car then I’ll drive you back.”

“Ok.”

You watch him walk off to the barn just across from his house before stepping down from the porch and admiring your surroundings.

He returns with a large plastic fuel tank and once again gives you his arm so he can walk you to his truck. He opens your door and helps you in.

On the ride back to your car you fall into easy conversation about your life in the city before your move and he tells you more about the ranch.

Once your gas tank is full you lean against the door of your car, nibbling your bottom lip.

“I don’t know how to properly thank you Joel.”

“No thanks necessary darlin’. It was my pleasure.”

You look at each other for a moment, the moon the only light illuminating the features of your faces and you see his eyes drop to your mouth.

He clears his throat and hangs his head, his hands landing on his hips as he kicks at some unseen rock on the road.

“Well, I guess I’d better be going,” you say, even though you sound a little reluctant.

“But I’ll see you tomorrow,” you finish, the reluctance replaced with clear eagerness.

“Absolutely. Are you sure I can’t pick you up?” he asks.

“Nah. I have to learn my way around! And now that I have gas I should be fine,” you giggle.

He smirks and pulls his cell out of his back pocket.

“Give me your number,” he says. “This way if you have any trouble you can call me.”

You type in your info and hand it back, smiling when your phone buzzes with a text from him.

“Thanks again Cowboy.”

“Anytime darlin’.”

Before you can change your mind you lean forward and place a soft kiss to his cheek, his beard rough under your lips.

He grins and slips his arm behind you to pull open your car door. With that, you turn and get in, waving before you drive off.

Your trip back to Joel’s the next day is much easier with a full tank of gas and proper directions. When you make the last turn that leads out to his ranch you’re almost overwhelmed by the vibrant green of the grass and the cloudless blue of the sky that stretches unendingly in front of you.

The sky is just beginning to change color and you can’t wait to see the full beauty of a sunset over the ranch.

Joel greets you by the gate, helping you out of your car before he leads you toward the barn.

You give him a questioning look and he quickly explains with, “just had some baby pigs born.”

With a barely contained squeal you grab his arm, the excitement rushing out of you in jumbled words.

“Thought you might like to see them,” he adds, before you can even get the question out.  

After visiting with the sweet babies and cuddling them as much as their mother would allow, Joel asks for your hand and ushers you away from the barn and farm house. You move deeper onto the ranch land, silent as he leads you to a small clump of bushes and you hear water.

“Where are we?’ you ask.

Joel’s quiet, his voice barely above a whisper.

“This is my favorite spot on the ranch. It’s a natural pond, fed by an underwater spring. It’s rare ‘round here, the runoff from the mountains mostly goes the other way. But this keeps the cattle well-watered and it’s a great place to cool off.”

He’s quiet again as he pulls on your hand a bit, and as you sit down, you discover a blanket already spread on the ground along the shoreline.

“Oh look at you all prepared,” you tease.

“Didn’t want ya to be sittin’ on the grass darlin’. Figured this would be more comfortable.”

You feel him scoot closer to you, your shoulders leaning against one another.

As the day draws to a close on the vast expanse of the ranch, the sun begins its gradual descent toward the horizon, casting a warm golden glow across the landscape.

You lift your hand and shield your eyes from the last moments of brightness, only able to peek through you fingertips to see.

Joel shifts and then your face is enveloped in shadow when you feel him press his hat onto your head.

“Does that help?” he asks, looking at you.

“Definitely,” you answer, giving him a quick glance before turning back toward the sunset. “Thank you.”

The sky continues to transform into a masterpiece of colors, blending shades of orange, pink, and purple.

Silhouettes emerge as the light recedes, enhancing the beauty of your surroundings. The rustic wooden fences that enclose the fields take on an ethereal quality, their weathered surfaces aglow with the evening light.

As the sun finally dips below the horizon, the sky gradually transitions into deeper shades of blue and purple. The last remnants of daylight illuminate the landscape with a gentle glow, and the stars begin to appear, twinkling in the darkening sky. The ranch settles into a tranquil stillness, and you let out a contented sigh as you stare at the glimmer of the moon on the water.

“I like this. Being out here. On the surface it’s dark and quiet, but if you use all your senses, there’s so much more.”

“Tell me what you sense?” he asks as he shifts even closer.

“It’s quiet but not really. I can hear the cattle and other animals and every once in a while I see a flash of a firefly.”

You nudge his shoulder and point over the water, giggling when you see some dancing lights.

“I can even smell the grass and something else…rugged and adventurous, like earth, leather, and pine…”

You close your eyes and hear Joel swallow.

“And what about your sense of touch?” he murmurs. “What do you feel?”

Before you can answer, you feel his fingertips tracing up your arm to find the curve of your jaw and cradle it in his hand. He turns your head toward his and brushes his hat from your head.

His eyes fall to your mouth, his own just a breath away as he traces his nose across your skin. Your eyes flutter closed when you feel the pressure of his lips, gentle and delicate, before your entire body tingles with electricity and warmth.

You press yourself closer and when he feels your agreement he deepens the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist and threading his fingers through the belt loops of your jeans to pull you into his lap.

“My touch is telling me a lot of things,” you whisper against his lips before he moves to trail kisses down your neck. “All of them good. So fucking good.”

He reaches for the hem of your shirt, slipping his fingers beneath. You can feel the coarse, rough calluses on his fingertips and palms as he explores your skin, humming in appreciation.

“You’re soft as silk darlin’.”

You moan his name, gripping his shoulders as he pulls you tight against him to meet your mouth in another heated kiss.

He smiles against your lips, stroking your back with work roughened but still gentle hands.

“What did you think of that sunset?” he asks.

“Most beautiful sunset I’ve ever seen.”

He keeps you in his arms and lays down, tugging you into his chest so your head rests along his shoulder.

“Show ain’t over yet darlin’. Look.”

He points a finger toward the sky and you move your eyes up, darkness stretching far and wide above you, broken up by the glitter of thousands of stars.

“Wow,” is all you manage.

He smooths his hands over your waist and you idly run your fingers over his chest, enjoying the interplay of his muscles underneath the soft cotton of his shirt.

The feeling of him is overwhelming and the heat in your body builds even as you press your thigh along his and soak in more of his warmth. You turn slightly and place your hand on his belt buckle, dipping your finger under the metal and tugging him until he’s facing you.

He props himself up on his elbow, his long legs stretched out and tangled with yours. His eyes are intense as they wander over your face and you can’t help but tempt hm as you bite your lower lip.

He leans down, meeting your lips in a kiss while his free hand finds your silky skin, caressing every inch he can reach.

Your fingers find his hair, weaving through the softness before giving it a tug so you can deepen the kiss. The sparkle of the stars is dimmed in comparison to what he does to you. In every touch of skin, every kiss, even in the way he looks at you, he makes you want more. He makes you want everything.

@sstan-hoe @pedritosdarling @blackwidownat2814 @lorilane33 @justkinsey @laineyreads​ @beccablogsthings​

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #cowboy!joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader #cowboy!joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #cowboy au #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

[gracieheartspedro]

I think i’m gonna post the first “intro chapter” of your needs, my needs tonight. it’s just kinda setting the scene and introducing the characters. I have the first official part outlined and half written, so that’ll come maybe sometime next weekend.

thoughts on if I should post tonight?

#fic: your needs my needs #joel miller #cowboy!joel

[zialltops]

honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

Cowboy!Joel (41) X F!Reader (25) | 32.6k | wip | explicit | 18+ minors dni | enemies to lovers | slow burn | au: no cordyceps outbreak

masterlist | ao3 | spotify playlist

There's no way he knew Joel was just ogling his daughter’s pussy in the glow of the fridge light not five minutes ago, right? Right?

“Uh, I just thought I’d give it a try.” Joel mumbles, fiddling with the lid on his cup that opens and closes the mouth piece. “You sure you’re alright, son? French vanilla is a little out of character for you.” It’s such a lighthearted comment but it makes Joel's heartbeat ring in his ears. “Fine—I’m fine, just wanted to try somethin—new. I should get to work, ya’ll have a nice morning.”

a/n: that center pic of joel is him in the glow of a fridge light.

vi: If She Wants A Cowboy

He’s going absolutely crazy. Out of his mind bat shit—nuts. Last night felt like a fever dream—maybe it was all along and he drempt it all up. Maybe he passed out in the snow and you dragged him in. But his mind cant make up the way you smiled at him, the look in your eyes when you peered up at him and said it—those three words that led joel straight to his eleventh hour. This is it, almost too late to catch with the cold tips of his calloused fingers. He reached and reached until his grasp finally brushed along the edges of your relics, along soft skin and forgiveness, scraps of understanding in the bitter, oppressive cold. God, the way you looked up at him like you might not stop him if he kissed you right there, the way your eyes searched his when you said—

You know why

But he doesn’t know in the early morning hours when he jolts awake to the ceiling fan against the popcorn texture and the quiet creak of the old house. He’s a little disoriented from his spot on his back at first, wondering if last night had happened or if he’d dreamt the whole thing up. Had he? Because he can’t wrap his mind around the sudden shift in every aspect of his relationship with you.

Why had you looked at him like that, touched his hand so softly he almost crumbled at your feet? He was ready to beg and plead for your hands on him forever. Why did you lay a blanket over him with that same soft look he’d only seen a few times before? Why did you lean down and press your soft, delicate lips to his wind bitten cheek, let them linger and warm him all over, thawing him out from the inside after years in this frigid body? Why did you climb the stairs slowly and glance over your shoulder to make sure he was still there on the couch?

His socked feet sticking out of the too small blanket with his weary eyes and pounding heart.

It’s been at least a half hour since he opened his eyes on this couch, but he can’t bring himself to get up yet. This is his last link to where you’d left him and he wishes you’d come down those stairs and tell him—why, and why should he know when he thought you hated his guts for so long.

You know why

Why you didn’t have sex with his brother. Or why you spent the day beside him in a saddle and got to know him instead of analyzing every little move he makes. Why you looked at him with hope in your eyes, or why you laid in Tommy’s bed and couldn’t bring yourself to do it. The more he thinks about the occasion, the more he realizes the answer is the same either way. No matter the instance, why will always have the same answer.

Because you want him, the way he wants you. Maybe not as desperately as him, but it’s in there, it must be. Or maybe thats just his muddled brain making up thing that aren’t there, seeing things that didn’t happen, making something out of nothing. Theres a layer of his desire blanketing every interaction he has with you. He sees vibrant, beautiful colors where it used to be dull and gray, his mind recognizes your kindness before your actual presence, sees the sparkle in your eyes and your depths of color before he reads what they are trying to tell him. All of that combined, maybe you didn’t mean to draw him in, maybe you were just nice to him and he took that as interest.

“Morning,” soft words pull Joel from his thoughts and his mindless tracking over the textured paint above him. He picks his head up from the pillow with a low groan, something about his neck tells him he’s going to pay for sleeping here. He’d do it all over again a million times to see you at the bottom of the stairs, dressed in a big tee-shirt and nothing else, a sleepy little smile with your hair a mess around your head like a halo. He’s so gone on you, so blatantly smitten that the whole world can probably see it. He’ll never recover from the way he wants you, it will live with him everywhere he goes, like a open wound that will never close. He can’t even remember who he was before he laid eyes on you.

“Mornin’, darlin’.” Your face cracks in a smile you can’t hide, cheeks redden in the dark hallway. Joel wishes you’d climb onto the couch with him, curl up along his side so he could plant a soft kiss atop your head and drink you in. “I was just getting some water, I thought you’d already be up.” He sits himself up slowly, until his feet hang over the edge of the couch and his back gets a much needed stretch.

“Gettin’ a late start today. That alright with you, boss?” A statement that would usually hold so much more distaste, suddenly takes on a new tone—teasing with a dash of heat on Joels part, his eyes chasing after your bare thighs as you walk into the kitchen. If his eyes were a little better, he’d probably be able to see the soft curve of your ass just under the hem of the shirt, so dangerously close to exposing you.

Are you wearing panties this time, too? Or, are you naked? You stop and look at him over your shoulder with a sleepy smirk. “I’ll let it slide this time, but don’t make it a habit.” He catches your eyes and they singe together from across the dark house, like two fireflies dancing across the somber shadows, readying themselves to outrun a brewing storm. “Yes ma’am,” his lips quirk up into a smirk.

“Coffee?” You offer in a different tone than you’d been maintaining, this one is quiet and soft, genuine to the point that Joel cant imagine turning you down. “Absolutely,” he gets up and doesn’t slip into his boots when he follows after you to the kitchen. Barefooted beside you, he gets the full wrath of your height difference, so much smaller than him, captivating in the softest possible ways, with your hair a mess and yours eyes glossy from the hood over the stove. He finds a spot leant against the door frame while you move around the kitchen quietly, filling the water reservoir, then the filter and ground coffee from a can. You set the old pot to brew and open the fridge, light scatting across the old hard wood floors in-front of Joel, encircling yours frame like a halo to his unadjusted eyes.

“Cream?” You ask without looking back, leaning down every so slightly to reach for the half and half on the top shelf, hand hovering on the carton while you take stalk of what else there is. The only thing Joel can pay attention to his his view, your shirt riding up to the middle of your ass, exposing soft creases where your cheeks meet your thighs. You look so damn smooth, softer than any fabric his calloused hands have laid upon. His eyes tick to the fridge and he spots a bottle of french vanilla stuffed into the back of the fridge on the bottom shelf—he’d never dare ruin his coffee like that, but to watch you bend a little further, he’ll risk his taste buds.

“French vanilla, please.”

His heart is absolutely pounding at the thought of you turning your head around catching him openly ogling, but the opportunity is too good to pass up. You lean lower and the shirt drags the rest of the way up, Joel leans back a little to adjust his view and—christ…

You aren’t wearing any panties.

You aren’t wearing any panties and Joel can see just the faintest vision of your lips, peeking out between yours thighs, your cheeks spread as you lean towards the back of the fridge—you have to know what he’s seeing right now, how easily he could step forward, place one hand on your back to keep in you in place while he pressed two fingers knuckles deep just to listen to the way you’d gasp his name. He’s not going to last long in this house, knowing what’s under that night shirt.

“This one?” You ask when your hand finds the lid and he hums without taking his eyes away from your bare ass. “Yeah, s’perfect.” He murmurs, adjusting himself in his slept in jeans so he can somewhat hide the way his blood rushes south and away from his brain.

Fucking hell, he can nearly see it all—a little further and he’ll get a glimpse of that tight little hole—wishes he could take a mental screenshot for when he inevitably wraps his hand around himself to the thought of you, bent over in front of him in nothing but a tee-shirt.

His day dream is interrupted when you straighten up and walk back to the counter. He doesn’t move from his spot on the doorframe, trying to keep his pounding heart and ragged breaths to a minimum. You make his coffee in a thermos with a lid, filled all the way to the top with dark liquid and sweet smelling creamer, even if he hates the idea of ruining his joe.

“Better get out there soon, Cowboy…I think the suns coming up.” You offer the mug to him and he steps away from the door to take it gingerly, his fingertips brushing along the backs of your knuckles when your relent to release your grip. “Your hands are freezing.” You reach up with the other and place it over the top of his hand. They looks so damn small wrapped around the cup with his like this. “Keep yourself warm out there, will you?”

Your hands drop away and he wants desperately to beg you to put them back, to touch him with such concern every day, or he’s afraid he might turn to dust. “It’s damn cold out there, how do you suggest I do that, little lady?” He moves forward a step without realizing it, closing in on you until your head tilts back to look up at him. “Well…in that case, think of something that warms you up.” His right arm takes on a weight when your delicate fingers incircle his forearm, smoothing out the hard muscles there. In your eyes, Joel finds something he’s never seen before—hope. It propels him into honest bravery, the burning heat of your hand on him driving him forward. “Only thing that keeps me warm is standin’ in front of me, darlin’.”

His eyes tick down to your mouth, pretty pink lips just begging to be kissed, to be bit and sucked and nipped. He could, he could right now and you’d probably let him, he’s pretty damn sure and he’s not certain of a lot when it comes to you. His sight flicks up to your eyes again and they are gleaming at him in the low yellow light. Your other hand finds the left side of his chest, sprawling your fingers out across his peck.

“In that case, make sure you wear your gloves so you can keep these hands soft,” you lean up on your tip toes, tilting your head to the side of his until you nearly tuck your face into his neck, warm breath drenching his collar bone. He can feel a ghost of your mouth against his ear, your bottom lip dragging across the shell and covering him in goosebumps. “And think of me, cowboy.” Your words are like hot, sticky syrup, catching every inch of his skin and coating him in sweet warmth. His eyes close and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding onto when your lips connect with the corner of his jaw briefly, before pulling away just far enough to plant a second just bellow his ear.

When you pull back from him, he has half a mind to press you against the counter top and finally know what you’d feel like on his lips. He has half a mind, but the other half registers a creaking coming across the floor boards. He has just enough time to step away from you quickly before the kitchen light comes on.

He should probably work on being more subtle, because he reels around like he’s been caught when he spots Hank in the doorway with tired eyes. “M-Mornin, Hank.” Joel gets out quickly, his ears barley picking up the stifled giggle you’re hiding under your hand. “Mornin’, what’s going on in here? Why’s it so dark, you two ever heard of a light?” He doesn’t sound accusing, but thats not what Joels ears tell his brain as he tries to make his way out of the kitchen. “N-Nothin, s’just gettin’ coffee, late start is all—“ he starts in but Hank puts a hand up to stop him. “Calm down son, just meant you should turn a light on. Can’t see a thing in here.” He chuckles, walking over to the pot to pour himself a cup. “Christ, who’s drinking this shit?” He picks up the bottle of french vanilla creamer and Joel’s cheeks go ghost white, trying his best not to wear it all on his face despite the utter fear in his wide eyes.

Theres no way he knew Joel was just ogling his daughter’s pussy in the glow of the fridge light not five minutes ago, right? Right?

“Uh, I just thought I’d give it a try.” Joel mumbles, fiddling with the lid on his cup that opens and closes the mouth piece. “You sure you’re alright, son? French vanilla is a little out of character for you.” It’s such a lighthearted comment but it makes Joels heart beat ring in his ears. “Fine—I’m fine, just wanted to try somethin—new. I should get to work, ya’ll have a nice morning.”

Hank gives him a absent wave and he makes it a point to not look at you because he knows what you’ll see written all over his face. He hightails it to the living-room and slips into his boots and jacket, slipping his hat onto his head once he’s fully dressed.

When he gets the front door open, thermos in hand, he hears his name from somewhere behind him. You’re standing at the bottom of the stairs, headed back up to your bedroom. “Yeah?” His voice cracks and he winces a little at his failed attempts at subtleties again. “I’ll see you at breakfast?”

Joel swallows and swears he was born to be tortured by you, angry or not, distant or stranding right in front of him, you put him through agony every day from the way he wants you.

“I’ll see you at breakfast, Honey.”

You grin and start up the stairs with one final glance over your shoulder. “Don’t forget to think of me, Cowboy,”

With a sultry wink, you’re gone and Joel is left panting, straining and confused.

How could he forget?

Joel definitely thinks of you when he runs to the cabin to change, only getting his jeans down his thighs before he’s working his hand over himself in a frenzy, plagued by the sight of you naked and soft, willing and encouraging. And when his gut tightens and his back arches off his creaky mattress—

He thinks of you.

After that, all hope of keeping him at a distance is out the window. The teasing had started out as just that—seeing how far you could push him before he told you to stop, to know the kinds of reactions you can cause him against his will. It becomes like a game, your outfit choices get a little tighter and you spend more time out on the ranch, in the stables when he’s working the horses, perched on the porch swing with a book when he’s got grease up to his elbows working on the old tractor.

You find that it’s hard to reach that point of pushing him too far and when you do, he gets this far away look in his eyes and stammers about something that requires his attention elsewhere. You play coy, even when you spot the thick outline of him through his blue jeans when scurries off to the nearest bathroom.

But you don’t make a move on him. Despite the shift in your relationship with him, he’s still so damn distant and vague, never letting you in on anything too personal that would lead you to believe he’d risk everything to be with you. What if it didn’t work? What if it fell through, would he still be able to walk around here with that kind of ache? You promised yourself that it would be his choice, he had to be the one to break that thinning ice. If he was willing to face the consequences, he would have to be the one to initiate the action.

Until then, you have other things to keep you busy—like the discrete package dropped off in the mailbox with your name on it. You track the package until the very day it arrives and your skin is nearly boiling off as the hours tick down until it’s in your hands.

You get the mail directly from the postal worker before it even hits the mailbox. With a quick thanks, you hurry back to the house and drop off your parents mail on the dining room table. Your mother was in town grocery shopping and Joel had dragged your dad out to the north pasture to look over a few young calfs who were suffering from some kind of upper respiratory illness.

The house was empty, aside from you and your heavy box and the slick slide of your thighs as you take the stairs two at a time to your bedroom. The second the door slams behind you, your already ripping open the box and pulling the toy from its discrete packaging.

Holy shit.

You sink onto the edge of your bed as you gaze at it in your small hands. You hadn’t given the color much thought when you’d purchased it, just clicked the right buttons that would get it to you as soon as possible. Sitting here in your quiet bedroom, the soft blue hues shine back at you like oceans of possibilities at your fingertips. You can’t imagine something of this size attached to a body, let alone Joel—it feels almost comical how large it looks.

When you’d caught a glimpse of Joel in the bathroom that day, it had been quick, momentarily providing a rough image of the sheer size, but sitting here in your palms it feels so much bigger. You turn it over a few times, fingers dragging along the false veins of the shaft, the thick, round head and the balls at the base, providing a sturdy bottom to rest on a flat surface if need be.

You’ve never owned anything quite like this, not even close. You’ve had a few vibrators, a few (much smaller) molds like this one, but never had you ventured out like this before. Setting it down on your lap, you realize just how unrealistic and fictional it looks, nearly taking up the entire length of your thighs. How will this ever fit inside of you?

How will Joel ever fit inside of you?

With your resolve diminishing, you dig through your bedside table for your toy cleaner and a bottle of lube you’d kept just incase. The whole process makes your thighs shake in anticipation, anxiously jittering through cleaning it and clearing off your bed, bringing up a music app on your TV to drown out any impending sounds you won’t be able to contain. Your heart starts to race when you get undressed, stripping yourself all the way down to nothing before securing the lock on your bedroom door.

Soft afternoon light coming through grey clouds makes the thick toy look cold and shadowy, looming against your stark white duvet.

It’s been nearly a year since you’ve had sex, so it’s tireless work even stretching yourself enough on your fingers to try just the tip. It feels like work, your shaking hands and disappointment in yourself, leading you into a string of bitter curses and irritation. It hurts and your thighs strain from holding yourself up and trying to lower yourself on it—no fucking way.

You flop back on your pillows with a loud, shameful groan. Why can’t you just—do this? Why can’t you just relax, let yourself enjoy this? It’s not supposed to be work, it’s supposed to make you feel good.

Realization hits you while staring up at the ceiling fan casting shadows on your walls. “Fuck,” you curse at yourself, draping an arm over your eyes while you try to catch up with your racing mind.

This is what Joel goes through every time he tries to have sex—fighting to make it fit, the frustration that must come with feeling like a novelty, fun but useless. He must feel every bit of humiliation you feel in this moment and then some, faced with women too scared to try, too impatient to work up to it, to cruel to give the same kind of effort Joel must have to give them just to get lucky a few times in his life.

So fucking cruel because you know—know Joel has to be a gracious lover. You see it in every thoughtful thing he does, the effort he puts into small things that equate to the effort he would put into you, worshiping your body with his reverent, greedy grasp. The same hands you’ve seen rope steer, tie up calves for branding. Hands you’ve seen holding reigns and synching saddles, the hands you’ve seen bring life into the world. The same hands you’ve seen wrapped around his cock in a dimly lit bathroom with mindless gasps, flexing biceps and a furrowed brow.

Oh—yeah, theres that hot rush across your skin, that tingle that starts in your thighs and travels up slowly, tickling your starved body. The things Joel would do to you, suddenly filling in the blank spaces behind your eyelids. It’s easy to slip into the fantasy of his big hands, ghosting ever so lightly along your bare thigh, a touch but not quite—like he’s there but he’s so far away, tickling the inside of your right thigh until chills work down your spine, flourishing into faint goosebumps down your legs.

The way he would talk to you, fuck, that would turn you into a murmuring mess for him, that deep rumbly accent of his. You could listen to him talk all damn day long, simple words suddenly transformed into the most eloquent, intoxicating sound that has ever graced your ears. He could probably talk you through an orgasm, blindfolded with minimal effort.

What would he say if he saw you right now?

Look at ya

If he saw you right now, laid out on your bed with a monumental task set before you.

So fuckin’ proud of you, sweet girl.

You feel brave with the phantom whispers of his praise in your ears, so you try a new angle, reminding yourself to breath slowly, relax and let yourself think of Joel.

Joel, who’s obviously ashamed of himself, who probably hasn’t been truly appreciated in years, if ever. Joel—you get past the wide head of the toy and it punches out a soft gasp that catches in your throat—sweet fucking Joel with his thoughtful eyes and graying curls. He’d probably want it like this too, you on your back with him above you, your legs spread wide to accommodate those solid hips instead of your own exploring hands.

I know, I know—you’re doin’ so good, darlin’, just a little bit more for me—thats it

It’s a little less intimidating when you don’t look at the toy in your hands, imagining flesh and pulsing want instead of cold blue silicone. It takes a lot of breaks, a lot of stilling and breathing deep while you force yourself to relax despite the absolutely agonizing stretch. When you get about half way, it hits you that this—this is what it’s going to feel like when he presses into you, the way he’ll burn when he splits you open.

Joel isn’t a boaster on any given day, but witnessing you arched off the mattress with a slacked jaw and quivering muscles, he might let that facade slip.

Shh, baby, I know. S’big, ain’t it? You gonna take it? You gonna be good for me, honey? You can do it, girl—let me ruin you for anyone else.

“Oh, god…” your chest heaves this time, the toy brushing against a spot inside of you no one has ever reached. Your stubbornness bleeds into your desire, determined to get your new favorite toy as deep as you can, your secret, concealable, personal Joel. You’re so damn close now, just a few more inches to go and you’re in the home stretch.

Shit, you’re so tight, think all of me s’gonna fit, baby?

Another inch down and your starting to work up a sweat, one hand holding the blue silicone by the base while the other hand works slow, steady circles through your folds. It helps you take the edge off, doing your best to forget about the way the toy inside of you burns you up, stretches you past what you thought your body was possible of.

Almost there baby, that’s it—thats my girl.

Feel ya squeezin’ me, darlin. You gonna cum? Just from this?

Come on, beautiful—cum for me.

It’s abruptly apparent just how obsessed you are with the eldest Miller when you can nearly picture him crystal clear above you, holding your thighs around his hips while he sinks in deeper, the determined set of his jaw and his wild eyes, consumed entirely by dark pupils that drink you in. He would be breathless right now, probably making soft sounds to the way your body tightens up completely when that final thread finally snaps.

He would be the soul witness to the way your body arches and shakes, the way it pulses around him, recoils then springs to life with a heavy gasp of his name on your parted lips.

That’s my girl, absolutely shakin’ for me, ain’t even fucked you yet.

The adrenaline high takes you soaring across your room, spinning out of control with light dancing behind your closed eyelids. When you come to, the vision slips and it’s no longer Joel you see above you, but your spinning ceiling fan and white popcorn texture.

Your toy is pressed in to the base, finally all of it, every inch of it’s cool blue silicone is wrapped in searing heat.

You’re one step closer to everything you’ve wanted for the last two years—Joel Miller.

The following morning, the breakfast table sits obliviously to the day before, the night before and the early hours of this morning—the ones where you laid out panting his name silently, shaking fingers grasping the blue silicone base.

Now, those same hands grasp a empty fork as you push food around absently. Your eyes are on the plate across from you, Joels big hands on his coffee mug when his sight catches yours. His eyes flick to your parents, then back to you with a knowing glint.

“S’that right, Honey?” You snap out of your daze and glance up at your mother. “Huh?” She offers a oblivious smile. “I was saying how many boys ‘round here are beggin’ at your feet to be their dates for the spring formal.” She smiles over at Joel. “You haven’t been the last two years, but the town puts on this big dance at town hall. Everyone comes dressed to the nines.” Joel tries to imagine you, dressed in a elegant gown, brainless fools groveling at your feet for a chance with a girl like you—he imagines himself, one of those worthless fools right beside them.

“Think it’s comin’ up soon, ain’t it?” Hank asks over a bite of pancake and you look over at your father. “Next week, it falls on my birthday this year. You guys are still okay with Mel coming down for a few days, right?”

Your parents agree easily and the conversation shifts to a new topic, but Joel’s eyes pierce into you through the entire meal.

Plotting, planning and imagination the same things that are running through your equally muddled mind.

Both oblivious to how absolutely fucked you’ll both be come next week.

#cowboy!joel #dbf!joel #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel the last of us #pedro pascal #cowboy joel miller

[anchoeritic]

🦇 i have returned with more cowboy!joel.

cowboy!joel using his heavy ass buckle belt to tie your hands together above your head when you’re getting too touchy with him or when he thinks you don’t deserve to feel up on his body. “sit ‘nd watch, sweetheart.” his voice sending a shiver down your spine as you felt the tug of his belt above you, securing your wrists in place. the sheer thought of just his hands running down your body and tongue between your thighs had you aching in desperation.

“joel,” you were barely able to mutter out, bottom lip quivering nervously. “hurry up, please,” your thighs tried to clench together as he looked down at you with a grin, his hand stopping you from getting them fully closed. he cupped your cunt through your soaked panties, chuckling to himself. “you tellin’ me whatta do, honey? you think you run this game, baby?” you stayed silent, sinking into the mattress beneath.

“lemme tell ya somethin’,” he leaned down to you, breath fanning over your face as he got real close to you, lips barely brushing against yours. biting your lip, you try to ignore his intimidation by closing your eyes, only for him to press harder against your pussy. “know your place. don’t go runnin’ around actin’ like somethin’ more than just a silly lil pawn.”

#cowboy!joel #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader

[stealyourblorbos]

Save a horse.........

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanart #digital painting #illustration #cowboy #yeehaw #save a horse ride a cowboy #din djarin #joel miller #javier peña #fanart by poison #fanart

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

open your fucking mouth

kinktober, day fourteen

a/n: this one admittedly isn't for everyone, but it's for some (sdfghjklæø you could say that about everything. copy paste and add to everything i've ever written because we all like different things)

warnings: dark!cowboy!joel miller x innocent!reader, smut, dubcon/noncon, wild west au, historical au, gun kink, blowjob, hair pulling

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023

“Suck it,” the outlaw demanded in a gruff voice, stroking his length mere inches from your wide eyes. It had been just days ago that he had forced his way into you and your daddy’s home, saying that you were to provide him a place to hide and if you didn’t comply with his every wish then he’d kill you both.

“I-I-,” you blinked up at him from your position on the floorboards, not even comprehending what it was he was asking you to do, “you want me you what?”

Sucking in an impatient breath, he rephrased, enunciating every syllable as if you were an idiot, “put my cock in your mouth,” but when the furrow didn’t disappear from your brow, his fingers then instead pulled the gun from his leather belt. Instinctively crawling back at the threat, he swiftly grabbed onto your hair before you could escape any further, the cold barrel pressing into your cheek as he then hissed, “I said suck it.” 

Heart thumping all the way in your throat, you slowly lowered your lips to the tip of his dick, “yes, that’s it…” he groaned as you timidly enveloped the bulbous head, “you sure you’ve never done this before? That dirty old sheriff has never gotten you to crack?” he slightly lowered the weapon as you nervously shook your head, eyes fluttering up at him as he filled your mouth, “well, well, aren’t I lucky…”

Suddenly, his hand found the back of your head and he roughly pulled you down, “there you go,” forcing his girth all the way down your throat and causing you to gag around him, “fuck…” 

But eventually, his firm hold did falter as he let you reel back, coughing as you wiped the lewd slobber off your lips. 

Hearing his thumb cock the gun, you found his glare, “open your fucking mouth,” and when you did, the cool barrel of the firearm swiftly slid across your tongue. Could it be loaded? That you didn’t know. But what you were aware of was the way the harsh metal made you feel, the indescribable sensation it shot down between your thighs. 

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

#lea’s writing #kinktober 2023 #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #dark!joel miller #joel miller x innocent!reader #cowboy!joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel miller x female reader #tlou smut #the last of us smut #pedro pascal smut #dark!joel x reader #dark!joel miller x reader

[cowgurrrl]

“The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable.” - Kurt Vonnegut

“They say you don’t get to pick and choose/ who sticks around and who you lose/ but I’m begging God to let me pick this one time.” - Pick and Choose by Daniel Nunnelee

Summary: Being a high school art teacher has its perks. Getting to teach the next generation, making art, flirting with trouble personified by Joel Miller. You can’t date a student’s parent. You can be professional. You can handle this. Right?

01. Something in the Orange: A parent-teacher conference leads to trouble [4.0k]

02. It Ain’t Me Babe: Ellie’s first art club meeting [2.8k]

03. You’re My Only Hope for Heaven: An unlikely patron saunters into your bar [3.5k]

04. Lavender Girl: A field trip [4.7k]

05. Keep the Wolves Away: A bad decision [5.2k]

06. I Believe In You: A bet is made [3.0k]

07. Slow It Down Cowboy: The wall [5.8k]

08. Dear Arkansas Daughter: A truce [2.8k]

09. Tall Boy: Fireworks, Uber Calls, Confessions, Oh My! [3.6k]

10. Sleeping on the Blacktop: The Land of No Return [4.7k]*

11. Dawns: The Morning After [2.9k]

12. I Wish I Was: Murphy’s Law dictates… [3.1k]

13. Little Wind: COMING SOON

14. Thin Line: COMING SOON

15. Lady May: COMING SOON

16. A Life Where We Work Out: COMING SOON

17. I’d Come Back If You Just Called: COMING SOON

#hippies and cowboys #the last of us au #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #joel the last of us #ellie the last of us #the last of us #tlou au #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel miller series #joel miller fluff #joel miller au #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller #the last of us fluff #the last of us angst