Tumgik
#joel miller fanfic
punkshort · 2 days
Text
saturday
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Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader (established relationship)
Summary: Your sister, Cassie, gives birth, and Joel has a question for your father.
Warnings: no outbreak, modern day but Joel is 40, language, fluff, flirting, soft!joel, explicit smut (18+MDNI), (somewhat - reader is on BC) unprotected piv sex, oral sex (f receiving), size kink?, alcohol use, reader's sister (obviously) gives birth but there's no description of the event
WC: 6.6K
Series Masterlist
dividers by @saradika-graphics
2:38am
You blinked a few times, making certain you were reading the time correctly. Sleep still weighed you down and you were having a hard time comprehending what woke you up in the first place. Then you heard it again and your heart jumped into your throat.
Someone was at your apartment door, you were sure of it. You could hear quiet scratching on the other side and when you sat up in bed to look across your apartment, you could see the unmistakable shadows of two legs under the crack in the door.
"Oh, my god," you mumbled, throwing the sheets off and grabbing your phone. Where was the baseball bat Joel gave you? What the hell did you do with it?
"Closet," you whispered to yourself, taking a few steps towards the coat closet when the door cracked open and you froze. You were in the middle of your apartment in just a tank top and underwear, clutching your stupid phone. This is how women are always killed in horror movies, you thought.
A familiar man's broad fame tripped over his own feet as he entered, and when you heard him curse quietly under his breath, relief flooded your veins which was quickly followed by annoyance. Reaching over to the floor lamp next to your couch, you flicked the switch, making him yelp and wince.
"What the hell are you doing, Joel?!"
He blinked rapidly and looked around the room before his eyes landed on you and a lazy grin spread across his lips. His hair was a mess and you could smell the alcohol and cigarettes from ten feet away. You wrinkled your nose but you couldn't help the goofy smile you always got whenever you saw him.
"You stink."
"Hey, baby," he croaked, his voice raspy from having far too much fun that evening. He stumbled towards you and you noticed dark spots staining his navy T-shirt that you hoped was just spilled beer.
"You scared the shit outta me. I almost called the cops!" you said, holding up your phone. "What are you doing?"
"Came t'see you," he slurred, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. Now that he was standing in the light, you could see the pink dusting his cheeks underneath his heavy lidded eyes.
"You're very drunk," you told him, and he just hummed in response before burying his face in your neck. "Had fun with Tommy and the guys I take it?"
"Mhm," he mumbled, his lips sucking messily at your shoulder. "Wanted t'see you. Missed you. Fuck, you smell so good."
You giggled when his facial hair ticked your neck. "You came to see me because you can't drive home and my apartment is within walking distance of all the bars."
He pulled away and gave you a feigned look of hurt. "No. Thought 'bout you all night. Talked 'bout you all night," he said, leaning into the crook of your neck. His hands slid down from your waist to cup your ass and he groaned. "I like these," he murmured into your skin, his fingertips tugging playfully at the edge of your underwear.
And even though your body was responding to his touch, warmth blooming between your legs, your curiosity won. "What did you talk about?" you asked, biting on your lower lip when he pulled you closer, pressing you against his erection through his jeans.
"How fuckin' happy you make me. How I wanna spend my life with you. How sexy you are," he said lowly, gripping your jaw and giving you a sloppy kiss.
"Oh, wow, spend your life with me? You really are drunk," you giggled after you pulled away. "Let me make you something to eat."
You managed to wiggle out of his grasp and walk towards the kitchen area, flicking on lights as you went and opening the fridge. "Leftover pizza okay?" you asked, pulling out the cardboard box and flipping the top open before grabbing some foil to lay down in your toaster oven.
"What'dya mean? I ain't that drunk. 'Course I wanna spend my life with you," he said, leaning up against your counter, watching you work.
You turned the dial on the toaster oven and popped in two slices of leftover takeout pizza before turning around to face him. "We met four months ago and you want to spend your life with me?"
His eyes suddenly appeared clearer when he looked at you. "Yeah. 'Course I do."
You gave him a look before pulling a plate down from your cupboard.
"What? You don't believe me?"
You put the plate down and shook your head.
"It doesn't matter," you told him, wrapping your arms around his neck and dragging him down for a kiss, but he pulled back before you could make contact.
"I mean it," he told you, sounding serious. "Already got the ring."
Your eyes bugged out of your head and your eyebrows shot straight up. "What?!"
"I'm just kiddin'," he said immediately when he saw your reaction, something flickering across his face for a split second before the toaster oven beeped and distracted you. You pulled your arms away, turning around to check his food when you felt his arms wrap around your waist from behind.
"I'm only hungry for one thing," he whispered in your ear, the ring comment suddenly long forgotten. You leaned back into his chest, pulling his pizza out of the oven while he nipped at your earlobe.
"Why don't you eat some actual food," you offered, turning around in his arms with a playful smirk. "And then you can have me for dessert?"
A wide smile stretched across his face and he nodded. "Deal."
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"Fuck, Joel," you whined, his face buried between your legs, your fingers tangled in his curls as he dragged another orgasm to the surface. You were confident at this point you've never wanted anybody the way you wanted him. You kept waiting for that honeymoon period to end, but somehow each time with him was just more intense than the last.
Your head fell back against your cupboard while you cried out his name, your thighs clutching his head as a rush of white hot heat flooded your body, little whimpers slipping past your lips until he finally pulled away. Your legs dropped shakily onto the counter as you struggled to catch your breath. He watched you try to recover with a pleased smirk on his face, wiping away your slick with the back of his hand. You gazed at him, your mouth open and panting for air, your eyes half closed and filled with need.
"Fuck me, Joel," you gasped, slipping down from the counter, your underwear lost somewhere on the floor. He groaned and crashed his mouth over yours, giving you a taste of yourself while his hands greedily reached down to lift you up, carrying you towards your bed.
"Shit," he muttered when he stumbled a bit, and you weren't sure if it was his excitement or the alcohol to blame but you giggled nonetheless.
He dropped you unceremoniously onto your bed before he got to work stripping himself of his clothes. He seemed to be struggling with his belt but when you kneeled on the mattress and pulled your tank top off, his fingers magically began to work faster at the leather. He hopped on one foot, kicking his jeans off in a hurry and making you laugh before he stood up straight against the edge of your bed and cupped your face with both his hands, pulling you in for a kiss and stealing all the air from your lungs.
He broke away but kept his nose pressed against yours, your face still held delicately in his large hands as he whispered, "need y'so bad, baby."
Your eyes drifted down between your bodies and you raised an eyebrow at his painful looking erection pressed up against your stomach. "You don't say," you teased, and he smirked before giving you one more soft kiss on the lips. He dropped his hands to your shoulders and gave you a gentle shove, indicating he wanted you to lay down, but you bit your lip and shook your head before twisting around, propping yourself up on all fours and looking back at him over your shoulder. "Like this," you told him, and a low groan rumbled deep within his chest as he stared down at you.
"You tryin' to kill me?" he asked, bringing his palms up to glide smoothly over your ass, giving one cheek a little squeeze. "I ain't gonna last long like this."
"You weren't gonna last long, anyway. Not with all the beer you drank tonight," you replied with a grin.
He chuckled and spread his legs a little wider before bending his knees and lining himself up with your entrance. When you felt the familiar fat tip of his cock notched against you, you sucked in a deep breath. Joel was normally a lot to take, but from this angle, you knew it would be even more intense.
He pushed inside with a grunt, giving you time to adjust when he heard your sharp gasp before sliding all the way inside and bottoming out with a low groan. Looking down at your ass flush with his hips, he knew he was a goner. The muscles in his stomach were already twitching and tensing and he barely even moved yet.
Your eyes squeezed shut and you pressed your mouth into your shoulder, stifling your whimpers while your body slowly relaxed around his girth.
"Y'okay, baby?" he murmured, his fingers flexing around your hips the only movement he allowed himself to make, patiently waiting for you to get comfortable.
"Mhm," you whined, then rolled your head to the side and arched your back a little, stretching yourself around him. "Just so big. So fucking big, fuck," you gasped when you felt him pulse inside you from the compliment.
"Don't talk like that, c'mon," he groaned, closing his eyes. Baseball. Tommy. Hanging drywall. Do not fucking come.
You looked at him over your shoulder, a lazy smile twitching at your lips when you saw his closed eyes and the pained expression on his face. Something about being able to pull him apart like this made you feel powerful, so you decided to have a little fun. You began to slowly move your hips, keeping your eyes on him as you rocked back and forth. His fingertips dug into your waist and his eyes flew open.
"W-wait-"
You sunk your teeth into your lower lip and moved a little faster, watching as his eyebrows pinched together and his breathing became erratic. "Why?" you asked innocently, fluttering your eyelashes at him.
"Stop, baby. Fuck, I'm-" he hissed and tried to pull out but you pushed yourself back on him further before he could move. "I'm gonna come, it's too soon," he whined, his face contorted in embarrassment.
"Joel, look at me," you commanded, slowing to a stop so he could focus. His chest was heaving and his fingertips were most definitely leaving bruises in your skin as he tried to fight off his climax. "You already made me come twice in the past thirty minutes. Now I want you to fuck me exactly like you want to and I don't care if you come in ten seconds or ten minutes. Can you do that for me?"
His eyes darkened a bit and the corner of his mouth turned up into half a smirk.
"Yes," he murmured, finally allowing his gaze to drop to your ass and you saw him swallow before taking a deep breath. In an instant his hips started snapping into you, almost making you fall forward but you quickly braced yourself. Your mouth hung open, hardly able to make a sound when your entire focus was on the way he managed to reach the furthest depths of you with each devastating stroke. One of his hands gripped your shoulder, the other still planted firmly on your waist as he slammed you back against his hips with each thrust, your skin smacking together so loudly you barely heard him grunting each time he knocked the wind out of you.
The hand he had placed on your hip slid to your lower back and he gently pressed his palm down, his pace still merciless when he whispered "can'ya arch your back a little more, baby?"
You could hardly form a coherent thought let alone sentence, so you did as you were asked without answering. Based on the loud groan you heard, he was pleased.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck," he chanted, breathing heavily behind you as you did your best to hold yourself up against his ruthless pace, but you could feel your legs getting weak. He suddenly fell forward and wrapped his arms around your ribs, yanking you up with a yelp so your back was flush against his chest and his mouth was pressed against the shell of your ear.
Your hands tried to grab his weakly, looking for some part of him to hold onto when he moaned into your hair and his body stilled momentarily, his hips stuttering as he flooded you with his release. Neither of you moved as you each fought to catch your breath, your head falling back against his shoulder. His heavy breathing was loud against your ear, then his chest eventually slowed down and his heartbeat returned to normal. Your legs began to tremble so he tightened his hold around you, holding you even tighter against him.
"I got you," he whispered, leaning forward so you could relax tiredly into your mattress. He pulled out with a soft grunt before collapsing next to you, stretching his arms wide. You crawled into his embrace and buried your face against his chest with a contented sigh.
"Too much?" he asked, his voice sounding a little hoarse as he drew invisible circles on your shoulder with his thumb. You shook your head and closed your eyes. "You're so fuckin' perfect, y'know that? How'd I get so lucky?" he asked softly, and you smiled. "You feed me 'n then you fuck me. What else could a man want?" he joked, and you giggled in his arms.
"Don't forget you went down on me in between those two things. You're pretty damn perfect, too."
He hummed and pulled your comforter over you both, making sure you were all tucked in and warm.
"I love you, baby."
"I love you, too," you whispered sleepily.
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9:13am
Your phone rang shrilly on your nightstand, startling you both out of your deep sleep in surprise.
"Oh, Jesus, fuck," Joel mumbled, his hands immediately coming up to clutch his head. You sat up, holding the comforter against your chest as you groggily reached for your phone, knocking over a framed picture of you and Joel in the process. When it clattered loudly to the floor, he groaned.
"What?" you snapped angrily when you answered your phone, not even looking to see who was calling.
"Buck! It's happening!"
Your heart skipped a beat and you gasped, making Joel drop his hands from his face to look at you curiously.
"Now?!"
"Yes, now!" your sister, Cassie, replied on the other end. "We're on our way to St. Dave's. Mom and Dad are already on the way."
"Oh my god!" you yelled, throwing the comforter off yourself and running to your closet completely naked. Joel sat up and gawked as you used one hand to pull out fresh clothes, tossing them on the bed frantically and although he could tell it was an emergency, he couldn't stop staring at your perfect fucking body.
"W-where do I go? The emergency room or labor and delivery?"
Joel threw his legs over the side of the bed and tried to shake away his massive hangover before standing up slowly and hunting down his clothes.
"Okay, okay. I'll be there in like," you looked at your clock quickly, "twenty minutes."
You hung up and threw your phone on your bed before grabbing your underwear and pulling them on, much to Joel's dismay.
"Cassie's in labor!" you said, rushing past him in just your bra and underwear.
"I gathered," he said with a yawn. "You got any Motrin? The hospital's got a coffee spot, right? Starbucks or somethin'?"
You popped your head out of the bathroom and handed him the bottle of medicine. "You're coming with me?"
"Yeah, 'course I am," he said, popping two pills and swallowing them dry. "Unless you don't -"
"No!" you said hurriedly, disappearing back in the bathroom. "I want you to! I just thought you'd have to go home to Sarah."
"She's at a friend's house the whole weekend. It's why Tommy dragged me out in the first place. Said I never spend time with him when we work together all damn day," he muttered under his breath before sniffing his shirt from the night before and making a face. "This smells like the floor of a bar."
"You have some spare clothes here, remember? In the third drawer," you told him as you dried your face and started to brush your hair into a ponytail. He went to your closet and opened the dresser, smiling when he saw the entire drawer was devoted to just his things before picking out a fresh outfit and a stick of deodorant, hoping it would be enough because there was no way he would have time for a shower.
"Do I still stink?" he asked worriedly when you walked by, shrugging on a shirt. You stopped and sniffed him, then grinned.
"You smell like sex."
He smirked and raised an eyebrow. "Well, in that case, I'm ready to go."
"At least brush your teeth, you animal," you teased, shoving him towards the bathroom with a laugh. He stumbled into your small bathroom and found the spare toothbrush you bought for him. As he quickly brushed his teeth, he ran his fingers through his messy hair, trying to tame the bedhead to no avail. After he rinsed, he wet both his hands and ran his fingers through his hair a few times, slicking his curls back to make himself look more presentable.
When he was satisfied, he met you out in your kitchen, your face buried in your phone as you furiously texted your family. You glanced up at him and did a double take when you saw his hair.
"Oh, I like that look," you said lowly, reaching out a small hand to gently touch his wet hair, and he grinned. "It's not fair. If I were hungover as shit, I would look like road kill, and here you are looking more handsome than ever," you told him, pecking a kiss to his lips before grabbing your bag and heading to the door.
"You must've seen some real pretty roadkill if you think that," he told you, following you out the door and draping an arm around your shoulders as you headed to the elevator. "Want me to drive?"
"Yeah, if you don't mind," you said, handing him your car keys before tapping away on your phone again. "My mom's telling me where we should park."
Joel courteously dropped you off at the hospital entrance while he parked your car, giving you the opportunity to find your parents quicker. You saw your dad waiting for you by the front desk, his head tilted down towards his phone.
"Dad!" you called out, and he looked up at you with a smile. Slipping his phone in his pocket, he bent down and enveloped you in a big bear hug. Your dad, Paul, was a big guy and might come off intimidating to most who didn't know him, but at the heart of it all he was a huge softie.
"How's she doing?" you asked, pulling away while he stabbed the button for the elevator.
"She's doin' alright. Little nervous but she's ready."
When you noticed the elevator about to reach the lobby, you glanced behind you. "Wait! Joel's parking the car," you said, and his eyebrows rose a bit in surprise.
"Oh, didn't realize Joel's here," he replied, glancing at his watch, and you immediately felt the heat creeping up your neck.
"He was out with his friends and brother last night. He had too much to drink and couldn't drive so he walked to my place," you told him, which wasn't exactly a lie. When you saw Joel walking through the lobby, his hands shoved in his pockets and his hair slicked back, you felt the same flutter in your stomach you felt every time you saw him and you prayed it would never go away.
Joel's gaze landed on you first and then your dad's, giving you both warm smiles as he approached.
"Hey Paul, early congratulations are in order," he said, shaking your dad's hand just as the elevator dinged behind you.
"Thanks, Joel," he replied, clapping him on the back and following you into the elevator. "Heard you had a fun night last night."
Joel's eyes went wide and the blood drained from his face as his gaze darted back and forth between you both.
"The bar. With Tommy and them," you reminded him, and his shoulders visibly relaxed.
"Oh, yeah. Too much fun. Feelin' it today," he said, rubbing his forehead. "Tommy met a girl, though. Got her number, if I recall, so maybe that'll get him off my back. Can't drink the way I used to."
"A girl? That's great. Maybe y'all can double date or somethin'," your dad said, stepping through the open elevator doors when you reached labor and delivery. "Now she's only allowed two visitors plus Josh, so why don't you go back and we'll swap out after a while. It's room 663."
"Okay," you said, turning to Joel. "I'll be back soon, I just want to check on her-"
"Take your time," he told you, kissing the top of your head. "I'll get us some coffee and somethin' to eat."
You smiled in relief and hurried past the swinging doors, eager to see your sister.
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12:26pm
The strong, over-caffeinated coffee Joel drank managed to quell his nasty hangover. You had swapped out with your dad once already, gratefully accepting the breakfast he bought while you updated him on your sister's status. From what he gathered, her water broke but she wasn't dilated enough yet. It had been quite a few years, but Joel remembered when Sarah was born and how long it took. When his ex went into labor, they both thought they had to rush to get to the hospital, assuming the baby would arrive quickly but it ended up taking a day and a half before Sarah was actually born.
"You don't have to stay, you know," you told him after a few hours. "I know this is boring and there's nothing to do. I'm sure you have things to do at home-"
"I wanna be with you," he said, cutting you off. "If I went home I'd just be sittin' around wonderin' what you're doin', so I think I'll stay if that's alright by you."
You gave him a shy smile and looked away, and goddamnit you looked so beautiful every time he made you blush.
The double doors swung open and your dad emerged, holding out his arms to his sides with a smile.
"Still the same," he announced, and both your faces fell. "Tag, you're it," he teased, tapping you on the shoulder before you stood up.
"I'll be back in a while," you told Joel, stretching your arms a bit. "But seriously, if you want to go home it's totally fine. You can take my car and my parents can take me back."
"I told you, I ain't goin' anywhere," he said firmly, "now go be with you sister, she needs you."
You smiled and blew him a quick kiss before pushing past the doors. He looked over at Paul, who was scrolling on his phone, and took a deep breath.
It was now or never, and he might as well do it while your dad was in a good mood.
"Hey, Paul, can I talk to you 'bout somethin'?"
Paul looked up and clicked the button on the side of his phone, the screen going dark.
"Sure. What's on your mind, Joel?"
Joel knew Paul long before he even knew you. He met your parents when he was hired to build their house, which took a very long time and was a lot of hard work, but he loved being able to bring to life what someone could only dream about. He always got along well with your parents, so much so that they invited him to their Christmas party, which was when he met you and his life changed forever.
And even though he knew your father well and he had no reason to be nervous, he still felt butterflies in his stomach as he thought about what he wanted to say.
"Well, it's 'bout your daughter," he began, his fingers fidgeting anxiously in his lap as he struggled to maintain eye contact.
"Bucky? Everythin' okay?" Paul asked, suddenly looking concerned. Joel quickly shook his head.
"She's great. Nothin' bad. We're... great," he stammered, taking another deep breath. "I love her very much. I'd do anythin' for her, I hope y'know that," he said, hoping his voice didn't tremble like he thought it did. "We're plannin' on movin' in together when her lease is up in a few months, I think she told you," Joel said, looking up at Paul questioningly. He nodded slowly, his brow beginning to furrow a bit.
"Yeah, she told us. We think that's great, Joel. You know we love havin' you part of the family," he told him, and Joel felt a bit of relief when he saw his opening.
"That's exactly what I wanted to talk 'bout, actually," he said, and Paul tilted his head to the side, confused. "'Bout bein' part of the family, that is. I-I'd like to ask her to marry me - with your blessing, of course," Joel said hurriedly, "and not straight away. I was thinkin' when she moved in I might ask her then. I know it's soon, I know we've only been datin' a few months, but Paul, I gotta be honest with you, she's the one for me," Joel said, the words tumbling out now as he watched Paul's eyes go soft. "I've never been more sure 'bout anythin' in my life. And I promise I'll take care of her, I'll love her and give her whatever she needs. I'll never do wrong by her, you got my word-"
"Joel," Paul chuckled, waving his hands in the air. "Joel, that's enough. You don't gotta sell yourself to me. I know you're a good man, I see how happy you make my daughter, I ain't blind. 'Course you have our blessing. Christ, nothin' would make us happier."
"Really?" he breathed as a smile stretched across his face, his hands trembling now in his lap.
"Yes, really. The hell you so nervous for?"
"Well, figured you'd be upset 'bout her last engagement and how we haven't known each other long," Joel admitted, running a shaky hand through his hair.
Paul shook his head and made a face. "That last guy never even had the guts to ask me. I had a feelin' it wouldn't last, but I had hoped my little girl would be the one to end it on her terms. But it all worked out, anyway. She met you," he said, grabbing Joel's shoulder and giving it a firm shake. "You might've only known her for a few months but I've known you years and I know the type of man you are. I see the way you look at each other. Reminds me of when I met Martha," Paul said, his eyes growing misty. "When you know, you know."
Joel smiled and blinked back tears of his own. "Yeah, you're right. When you know, you know."
Paul leaned forward and pulled Joel into a tight hug, squeezing the air from his lungs in the process but he didn't care. He had your father's blessing, that was the first hurdle. Now all he had to do was find enough courage to ask you to marry him one day.
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5:48pm
"You havin' fun, babygirl?" Joel asked into his phone as he paced the halls of the hospital.
"So much fun, Dad. It's supposed to be warm out tonight so we're all gonna sleep outside in tents and have a campfire."
"Now why are you excited to sleep outside with your friends but when I wanna go camping you always say no?" he said, smirking when he heard her groan.
"Because I'm still within walking distance of indoor plumbing," she shot back, making him chuckle softly.
"Yeah, well, y'got me there," he conceded, his eyes flicking up when he noticed you walk through the doors, scanning the lobby looking for him. He held up his hand and when you saw him, your mouth stretched out into a tired smile.
"How's Cassie?"
"Nothin' new but I think I might be gettin' an update here in a second," he said, eyeing you as you hurried up to him. "You call me if you need anythin' at all, alright?"
"I will."
"Okay, love you," he said right as you caught up to him.
"Love you too, Dad."
He dropped the phone from his ear and slid it back into his pocket. "How's she doin'?"
"She's getting ready to push!" you said excitedly, grabbing his arm as you bounced on the balls of your feet. "I was just giving them a few minutes of privacy but she said she wants me to hold one of her hands. The doctors said you and Dad can wait outside the room if you want," you told him, pulling him back down the hall towards your father, who was already waiting with a nervous look on his face.
"How're you holdin' up?" Joel asked Paul, who looked paler the closer he got. You let go of his arm and he followed you down the hospital corridor, making sure to stay out of the way of the passing medical staff.
"I'm 'bout to be a grandpa, Joel. I'm feelin' every emotion there is right now," Paul said with a nervous laugh.
Even though his hangover was still a very fresh memory, he still said, "why don't we get a drink later on and celebrate? Help take the edge of a bit."
Paul clapped Joel's shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze and making him wince, but Paul didn't notice. His eyes were fixed on a door at the end of the hall. "That sounds like a plan, son."
Joel choked up for a moment at the term of endearment but quickly swallowed it down. This was about Cassie and Josh, not him. But still, the fact Paul felt comfortable calling him son during such a pivotal moment in his life touched him.
"Okay, I'll come out and let you know how it goes," you said, turning around to face the two of them. It melted Joel's heart, the way you were so happy and excited for your sister.
"Alright Bucky, you take care of our girl," your dad said, planting a kiss on the top of your head. You turned to Joel and he shot you a wink.
"Go on, now," he told you with a smile, and you gave him a quick kiss on his cheek before disappearing inside the room.
It took nearly one more hour, but after hearing a lot of screaming and crying from your sister, there was a brief silence before the telltale sound of a newborn's cries filtered through the door. Joel's eyes widened when he looked at Paul, who immediately began to tear up. Joel grinned and patted him on the back but he was quickly yanked into a bear hug so tight he wondered how he didn't fracture a rib.
"Congrats," Joel said, his voice a little pained, but Paul didn't notice. He was far too excited as tears of joy spilled down his cheeks.
Josh stumbled through the door wearing a disposable apron and cap, looking shellshocked as he yanked off a blue mask. Paul grabbed him and pulled him into a fierce hug, making his eyes bug out of his head even more and Joel had to stifle a chuckle.
"It's a girl," Josh said, a smile stretching across his face now. Paul laughed and wiped away his tears while Joel shook Josh's hand and congratulated him. "They're both doing great. Cassie's great. The baby's great. Perfect. Oh my god, I'm a dad," he said, suddenly bending over, his hands gripping his knees as he breathed deeply.
Paul laughed and rushed into the room, leaving just Joel and Josh in the hallway.
"You alright?" he asked Josh, putting a hand on his shoulder to help steady him.
"Yeah. It just kinda hit me all at once, y'know?" he said weakly, falling limply into a chair. "How'd you do it, man? Weren't you freaking out?"
"Oh, yeah. I still freak out," Joel admitted, sitting down next to Josh. "Havin' a girl is hard. They are unpredictable and independent but also so amazing and strong."
"You got any advice for being a girl-dad?" he asked, half joking.
Joel grinned and leaned his head against the wall as he scratched his chin and thought about it.
"Encourage her. Let her be herself. Let her paint your nails and make mistakes. Play tea parties with her and listen to her. Don't lie to her. Do your best. Show her love. Make sure she sees how you and Cassie love each other. Treat her with respect, but don't assume anythin'. Wear the tiara. Wear the boa. Just... be there. Because a father's love for his daughter is special. Look at Paul," Joel said, stretching his arm out towards the closed door. "He hasn't left this building all day. He raised two beautiful, smart, well rounded women who he would go to war for but also lets them be themselves. Lets them make their own choices and doesn't hold 'em back. Just... love her, man," Joel said, tilting his head in Josh's direction. He had been quietly listening to everything he said, absorbing every word before taking a deep breath.
"Thanks, Joel," Josh said with tears in his eyes. "I mean it. Thanks."
Joel slapped him on the back with a wide smile.
"No problem. Now get in there and help your wife."
Josh stood up and looked down at Joel. "Aren't you coming?"
Joel stood and followed Josh inside the crowded room, which was currently being vacated by the hospital staff so everyone could bond with the new family member.
But what Joel wasn't expecting to see was you holding the newborn in your arms, seated in a chair next to Cassie's bed as you gazed down lovingly at your niece.
Something tugged inside Joel's chest when he saw you. Something foolish and primal and earth-shattering. You looked up at him and smiled.
"Look, Joel. Meet Anna," you said, your gaze finding hers once again, and Joel looked at you, praying his face didn't give away what he was feeling in that moment.
"She's gorgeous," he whispered to Cassie, then went to stand behind your chair so he could admire Anna's sleeping face.
Paul was snapping pictures while Martha was on her phone talking to extended family, letting them know the good news. Josh pressed a kiss against Cassie's lips and murmured what a great job she did, but all Joel could see was you and Anna. You looked so at ease as you cradled her in your arms, like you were made for it and he felt his throat close up.
You finally handed her back to her mother but made sure to press a quick kiss against her forehead first.
"We should probably let you guys get to know each other," you said, giving Cassie a half hug.
"Thank you so much, Bucket," Cassie said softly, looking down at her baby. "I couldn't have done it without you. Thank you for being here, Joel," she added, and he smiled.
"'Course I'd be here. You're like family to me," he said sincerely, and she gave him a tired smile.
You blew Cassie a kiss and gave your parents a hug before grabbing his hand and leading him out the door.
"Well that was an unexpected way to spend a Saturday," you said, wrapping your arm around his bicep as he lead you to the elevator.
A flurry of thoughts swam through his head as he walked you through the parking garage to your car, but he kept them all to himself. It was an eventful day, you were right. You just had no idea how much.
"Did you want to stay the night?" you asked him when he parked your car, and he felt the butterflies swirl in his stomach. He wanted nothing more than to spend every second with you, but he made a promise.
"Yeah, but I mighta made plans," he confessed, and you gave him a look as you stepped out of the passenger side of your car. "Told your dad I'd take him for a drink to celebrate," he told you, and you rolled your eyes.
"After last night? You're willing to drink again so soon?" you teased as he walked you into the lobby of your building.
"Just one drink. Then I'll be back, and this time I won't sneak up on you," he murmured, pressing a slow kiss against your soft lips.
"Better not, or else I might not be so nice this time," you whispered against his lips, making him groan.
"You were real nice," he said lowly, his cock already twitching in his jeans. "Give me a couple hours and I'll return the favor."
"Is that a promise, Mr. Miller?" you asked playfully just as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open.
And maybe it was because he was so tired, or maybe all of the emotions from the day were building up inside him like a dam ready to burst, but the urge to ask you right then and there was overwhelming. He had never felt so strongly about anything in his whole life. But he had to be careful, especially after your reaction to his comment about the ring. He had to be patient, he had to think about the timing. He had to do it right.
"Yes, ma'am," he finally replied, his tone so serious it made you grin.
You stepped backwards onto the empty elevator, holding his gaze and with a mischievous glint in your eye, you winked.
"I'll be waiting."
Then the doors slid shut, leaving him paralyzed. He had to fight the urge to race up the stairwell and meet you at your door, all breathless and needy, but he forced himself to exit your building. As he strolled down the street, heading towards where he parked his truck the night before and silently praying he didn't get a ticket, he thought about the hold you had over him. It was powerful and intense. Alluring and confounding. Debilitating and staggering.
And he absolutely loved it.
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milla-frenchy · 1 day
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7 AM
0k8 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 Summary: Joel fucks you by the window, some guy watches you Warnings: 18+ mdni. Exhibitionism, rough sex, dirty talk, piv, creampie. Mention of somnophilia. Reader’s hair can be pulled.  No age specified, no outbreak a/n: same couple as 5 days and 3 hours, but can be read alone @aurorawritestoescape thank you for beta reading 💕🫶 Gif in the mood board by @pedropascalsx 🙏
Masterlist
**************
The sun's rays woke you up early, too early for a Sunday. You contemplated going back to sleep, before glancing at Joel. He was snoring softly, lying on his stomach, one leg slightly bent, his face turned towards you. You looked over him, from his tousled curls to his bare back. His arm was hugging the pillow, the sheets were tangled just below his ass. He’d gone out with friends the night before, and had fallen asleep wearing his gray sweatpants.
It was one of the rare nights when he didn’t fuck you before you two went to bed or while you were asleep.
You smiled looking at him and decided to let him rest. You got up and left the bedroom, closing the door behind you. After making yourself some coffee you went to the living room. It  was bathed in light. You walked to the window and saw a few people who were already jogging outside. You put your coffee on the windowsill, waiting for it to cool off.
You felt Joel behind you before you heard him, right before he placed his hands on your hips.
“What are you doin’ here, sweetheart?” he asked, his mustache brushing against your ear.
He pressed his crotch against you before you even had time to respond. His morning wood found its place against the crease of your ass, leaving you breathless.
“Mmm?”, he insisted, leaning more against you.
“I…didn’t wanna wake you up.”
“Is that right?”
You felt him pull down his sweatpants, just below his balls. His hard cock sprang free towards the ceiling before he slid it between your thighs with a firm hand on his shaft. He pushed your panties to the side, and grabbed your breasts under his large t-shirt.
“Mmmm…you smell like me”, he murmured.
“Joel…people could see us.”
“Yeah? Shoulda think about it earlier, sweetheart.”
He pressed on your back to bend you further towards the window, and nestled his cock at your entrance. You held your breath. You always loved it when he fucked you without preparation, whether with his fingers or his tongue. The painful second when he thrust in always gave way to long minutes of pleasure when you  forgot about everything, except for his shaft ruining your pussy.
When he pushed in, you let out a soft “fuck” biting your lip.
“Yeah, take it, just like that. Good girl.”
He bottomed out, growling, his hands tight on your hips and his gaze down on your ass.
“Shit, this pussy’s barely wet. Poor baby...must be harsh to take this big cock without me spreading you first.”
His pace was slow, but so powerful, that your forehead hit the window each time his cock sank between your folds. He grabbed your hair when you didn’t respond, pulling your head back.
“So cockdumb, when I fuck you raw like that. That’s what you wanted, when you woke up?”
He kissed your neck before nibbling on it, pulling you back against his chest. His hand left your hair to grab a breast and he picked up the pace, thrusting in faster. Then he bent you forward again, making your forehead hit the window, one hand firmly gripping your shoulder for leverage. A jogger passing the house glanced up at your window and slowed down when he saw you.
“Joel!!”
But he neither stopped nor slowed down. He pressed down on the back of your neck, holding you against the window, chasing his orgasm. The stranger was almost walking at that point, watching you two. You slipped your hand into your panties, desperately twirling your clit under your finger.
“Fuck…you’re gonna get off while some guy’s watching you being pounded? Oh, baby…didn’t know you were such a bad girl.”
You couldn’t help but look at the man, now standing in front of the house. There was a smile on your face when the orgasm hit you, your pussy clenching on Joel’s cock. He stopped, buried deep inside your core as his cum spurted over your walls. His eyes were fixed on the man, still watching you.
“Damn it, Joel…”
Once your pussy stopped milking his cock, he grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him, tucking his member back into his sweatpants with the other hand.
“What are you doing?”
“You’re gonna ride my face, right now, in bed. And this time you're gonna cum without looking at a damn stranger. Bet he’s gonna jack off when he’ll get home, thinking about this pussy he can’t have.”
You looked out the window one last time. The man readjusted himself before continuing his run.
****************
Same couple : 5 days and 3 hours
***************
Thank you for reading 🙏
Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️
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@pascalsanctuary @littlemisspascal @survivingandenduring
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alwaysmicado · 1 day
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idiots in love • slow burn but they’re fucking the entire time • the angst • filthy smut • sickening cuteness • menace of a reader • Tommy • lots of sarcasm • trauma • no outbreak • heartbreak • realizing you do deserve love and happiness 1 You wanted this 2 Wet 3 Don’t ruin the sofa 4 What you need 5 Trouble 6 No broken hearts 7 Sunshine 8 Sink or swim
prequel: we shouldn’t
Joel masterlist • main masterlist • AO3
Thank you all so much for loving this series! Your support, kind words, and enthusiasm mean the world to me! I love you 🤍
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sweetenerobert · 3 days
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toy story
8.1k | action figure!joel miller x male reader
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summary: contemplating throwing out your favorite toy, he comes to life and makes your last night before you leave for college memorable
warnings: MDNI 18+, agalmatophilia, strong language, slight possessive joel, childhood friends to lovers (if you squint) no mention of age besides reader leaving for college, l-word drops, pet names (mostly doll and baby), spanking, dirty talking joel, no description of reader, but joel lifts you (1), oral (m!giving/m!receiving) rimming, spit as lube, unprotected p in a, creampie,
inspired by this post , also huge thanks to @strang3lov3 new tattoo for this fucking idea, i love you so much and thank you for letting me rant to you about this idea that been in my drafts for FUCKING MONTHS
thanks to @minispidey for beta, love you <333
dividers by @saradika-graphics
➴ navigation page/masterlist in bio
➴ notifications blog in bio, follow and turn on notifications
read it on a03 as well
I’VE MISSED YOU GUYS!! SOOO MUCH!!
Moonlight piercing through the cotton curtains of your childhood bedroom, dust dancing through the luminescent shards from your window. Two boxes stacked on each other in the corner of your room, your closet’s life ripped away from the clothes once hung in the small confined space. 
Wiping the sweat that littered your forehead as you huffed a breath, you lay down on the small circular rug that riddled the floor, staring at the ceiling light. You were getting ready to leave for college, and packing up your life seemed more stressful than lifting weights off your shoulders. 
Constant choices about what to throw away or bring with you kept swimming in your brain, and overthinking two simple decisions kept making your head spin, mostly ending with you sitting silently thinking about your answer. This wasn’t one of those situations; you had just finished packing and felt like you deserved a break.
Alone in your childhood home while your parents had picked up late shifts and your siblings were out, the silence was deafening, but you preferred the quiet. It gave you time to process everything. Seeing the stars tapped onto your ceiling made you smirk as you glanced around your bare room.
Eyes catching an object underneath the bed, you turned your body to understand the object better. It was your old lumberjack action figure when you were a kid; it must’ve fallen off the shelf over your window. You don’t remember if it came with a name or you made it up, but you called him Joel. 
That name stuck with you until now, even when you were a kid, when you introduced Joel to your friends as they commented on it. Being a “weird name,” you didn’t care; you loved the name. 
Attempting to grab him from the bed, you realize that it would be easier to grab Joel from your bed. You were quickly climbing up on your bed and scrambling to the side, quickly sliding your hand down the crack of the wall and your bed. Tips of your fingers grazing the fake axe on the back of the action figure, biting your lip as your nail pulls the toy closer towards the wall, retracting your head a few feet up as you see it closer to the wall.
The action figure is in your grasp, sliding your knuckles up on the cold wall while your palm touches the cotton sheets wrapped around your mattress. The toy is now in your hand, and you notice how it’s looked the same after all the years. A couple of tiny patches of color are missing from his plastic hair, and his face and plastic beard stay the same. Joel’s clothes are dusty, balls of lint cover his pants and shirt, and his boots are dustier than anything. You quickly blow a puff of air, trying to clean him off the best you can.
“Hey, Joel. How ya been?’ 
Did I use to talk to this thing? Man, I was a weird kid. 
Joel was your therapist before you even knew what therapy was — telling him about how you finally could spell Wednesday without misspelling it, How you passed each spelling/vocabulary test, and how the boys at school were bullying you. Joel always listened to you; he was your toy, and he didn’t care as long as he was there to protect you – metaphorically.
Loving Joel was easy—he was your first crush—but trying to explain that to a toy was difficult. Bringing Joel with you to live in your college dorm seemed like a hard decision. Glancing at the tiny trash can next to your bed, you glance back at Joel and discard him in the trash bin. 
Wiping your hands on your pants, you looked at the bags and boxes that had cluttered the corner of your room and huffed a breath in annoyance as you decided it would be wise to have your life packed away downstairs.
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It didn’t take you long to realize how much you hated your fucking stairs. You were leaning on the top of the stairs – on the handrail, catching your breath. Your bedroom was in your field of view; you would’ve crawled into your room if your knees hadn’t creaked with each movement. 
One of the main things you wouldn’t miss about your house would be the stairs that killed you slowly with each trip up and down the wooden stairwell. 
Slowly getting up from the floor, your feet trudged towards your bedroom door. You were pushing the gateway of your bedroom, earning a creak from its hinges. Your eyes glanced down towards the dark chocolate wood floor with each step into your room. “Finally, I’m ready to lay down in my –” You started to pick your head up, glancing at the figure sitting on your night, playing with a pink eraser he must’ve found in the trash bin.
“– bed.”
"Doll, what's up with you throwin' me away?"
W-what? That one question kept flying around in your head. Not, who is this? Not, what is happening? Just a simple question: What kept spinning around your head?
In the back of your mind, you knew who it was sitting in front of you. It wasn’t a dream, not your imagination; it was real life. Your action figure — your lumberjack, Joel in the flesh? 
He looked real, too real. His hair's curls looked fluffy, and his skin's wrinkles looked defined. His clothes looked like he’d gotten them from a store, with wrinkles littering his shirt and jeans and his boots rubbing against the wood. Your childhood toy was in front of you, alive and in the flesh.
“Too stunned to speak, doll?” 
Shaking your head from the thoughts swimming around you, you look at the male before you. “What?”
“Got my answer. Can’t believe I rendered my doll speechless.”
Joel’s build shocked you as he stood up from his position; his shoulders were broad, his biceps bulging from his flannel – you knew he rolled his sleeves up. Vein’s threatening to burst from his arms and hands. Your former action figure who walked in front of you felt menacing, like his aura made you cower in fear, but instead of fear, it was astonishment. That something you wished for years ago finally came true.
“How is this possible? How are you real?” You quivered. 
“The better question better be, “Why would I throw out such a precious toy?”
“Huh?”
“C’mon, doll, y’think I’m stupid or somethin’; I knew y’threw me out. Half m’foot was in the trash can when I started growing.” 
The answer was plain and simple: you didn’t want to bring him with you to college or leave him to give to someone else, so you thought just about getting rid of him would be. Clearly, Joel’s surprise appearance made things more complicated than they should. “I didn’t throw you out,” You quickly spat out. “You fell in there by accident.”
Joel’s tall figure stood tall in front of you, his once plastic hand – now turned flesh and genuine, his thumb slowly tracing your bottom lip. Your body was shuddering against his touch. “Y’know your body betrays you, sweetheart.”
“Just be honest; it doesn't hurt me, jus’ your pride.”
“J-Joel, listen —”
“Ah, now you know I exist; you were treating me like some hallucination,” Joel announced, backing up, sticking his thumb in the waistband of his jeans. 
“You’re aware that this could very well be a hallucination,” You shrugged.
“Slap yourself, then.” 
“Huh?” 
“Slap. Yourself. In. The face. Then.” Joel enunciated. 
“N-No! I’m not going to do that!” You exclaimed. 
“Okay, fine, then. You’ll never know if this is a hallucination then.” 
Groaning, you quickly connected your palm against your cheek, the skin on your palm and face stink earning a wince that you suck from your teeth.”Happy, now?”
“Blessed. I’m pretty sure you have many questions, which aren’t important, because we need to figger out why you threw me out?”
“I told you, I didn’t–”
“Doll, I’m not stupid. I saw you put me in there, now don’t bullshit me.”
The skin on your palm and cheek had been itchy to the point you wanted to scratch your palm and face simultaneously, resulting in you rubbing your knuckles on your face. But you didn’t even want to answer Joel—your childhood toy. Hurting your friend's feelings was something you never wanted to do; imagine how Joel would feel knowing the boy who had played with him since he was a kid didn’t want to take him to college with him.
But it was something that you had to say, something that you would dread telling anyone you love.
Deciding to rip the band-aid faster than slow, you take a breath, look at Joel’s once painted-on brown eyes, and see a soul behind his real-like eyes. “I didn’t want to take you to college with me, and giving you away seemed way too hard even to think about. So I threw you away.”
Joel looked shocked by your confession. He thought he was ready to hear what you had to say, but Joel wasn’t; he was more perplexed than anything. Moving from where he stood before you, he stumbles on the mattress and sits down to collect his thoughts. Joel’s head hangs as you sit down next to him. It was reminiscent of when you were younger and would watch movies in your living room, having Joel sit next to you while you imagined him laughing or getting mad at a character like you were.
For once, the silence in the room was deafening, and you didn’t like it; you didn’t know what Joel would say, which terrified you.
“Joel? Are you okay?”
Joel nodded. “Yeah,” He snuffled. “Was just thinkin’ bout somethin’.”
“What was it?’
“Joel, when I’m older, I’m taking you everywhere with me, no matter what. You're going to be with me during college, and even when I get the big boy job like my daddy does, you’ll always be there.”
The action figure you played with your whole childhood quoted what you told him in those peak years of being a kid and had nothing to worry about.
“I said that, I'm guessing?”
Joel nods. “You were always a happy kid, no matter what happened, always smiling.” You chuckle at Joel’s statement. It made a smile appear as you remembered that he was always there with you. But, you had to face the fact that you weren't a kid anymore; those promises you made to a toy — a mere plaything- weren't something you thought about as a hormonal teenager. 
Shaking your head, you snap your head at Joel. “Joel, I was a kid back then. I didn't know that growing up would be so different than what I thought.”
“I- I can't be that same kid again. I wish I could trust me, I wish I could, but I can't.”
“It’s a shame,” Joel starts. “I would’ve loved t’see you grow up.”
“I mean, you technically did, right?”
Joel chuckles, “Yeah. Yeah, I did.” 
The cicadas appeared to disrupt the silence in the room when you didn't know what to say to Joel. You hated breaking your best friend’s heart, but being honest was something Joel wanted other than being lied to. “Do you want a hug?” 
“I would love that,” Joel’s southern drawl appeared as you wrapped your arms around Joel, and his arms wrapped you around in a bear hug. 
Hugging Joel felt weird but right – a seemingly impossible wish you fulfilled. You begged to be able to hug Joel, have him hold you in his arms, and melt together, being safe in each other’s arms. “M’gonna miss ya when you’re gone,” Joel grumbles against your head. As you hugged Joel, questions began to swim in your mind as you squeezed his waist; it felt like you were hugging an actual human. The way his body resisted against the tight hold on him, his body felt warm against yours. 
“Okay, wait a second,” you announce, releasing yourself from Joel’s grip and standing before him.
“What’s wrong?” Joel asks, resting one hand on his knee and his forearm on the other knee. You watch at the skin around his wrist, and the watch starts to bend as if he were human.
Questions were floating in your head; you didn’t know where to start, but you took a deep breath and opened your mouth to speak. “How did this happen? How are you walking like this?” 
“I’ve always done it, just done it when everyone isn’t home.”
Perplexity rode your face as Joel’s answer made you think about more questions you wanted to spit out. “So, you’ve always been able to walk around and be so human-like?”
“Yeppers.”
“So, you heard everything?”
Joel nods.
“Everything?” 
“If you’re referring to the times I’ve heard and seen you jerk off and get fucked in here, then yes, everything,” Joel mocked. 
Heat rose to your face. Joel had seen everything, the most vulnerable parts of your body. Things that you wouldn’t admit to if your family asked about it.  “Even when–” 
“Not when you were a kid, I’gave you your privacy. Scout’s honor.”
“But, you’re not a scout but a lumberjack.” 
Joel shrugs. “You’re point?”
“My point is–” You exhale a breath as a hand slides down your face. “If ya wonderin’ of anythin’ sex-related–” Joel interjected.
One question swam around your mind in that topic Joel mentioned. “Can you fuck?” You question, crossing your arms. Joel’s chuckle sent chills picking at your “tough-guy” demeanor. That nervous feeling rose, making you worried about his answer. “If I tell you the truth, will you mind?”
Reflexically shaking your head, you waited for Joel’s answer. “Yes, doll. I can.” Without thinking, you asked Joel. “How?” Joel answered by pointing at you. “You’ve done some pretty interesting things, doll.” 
Moving your head as you eye roll at the “man” before you. “I’m scared to ask, but–”
“You’re interested if I had fucked anythin’?” 
“Honestly? Yeah.” You don’t know how to feel about Joel’s confession. On the one hand, you were intrigued by what Joel had done; on the other hand, it made you feel like you were stepping into a zone you weren’t comfortable with entering. “Wow, my old toy, fucking other toys? I’m guessing.” 
Joel chuckles. “Y’know your sister’s Barbie doll? Fucked her, Ken watched.”
A grimace appeared on your face as Joel's sudden statement made you feel like the cold rushed in from your bedroom. “Wow,” you started. “Wait, Barbie and Ken can become real, like you?” Joel nodded at your answer.
“Huh, well. You learn something new every day.” 
“Blame yourself, doll. I learned everything from you.”
Confusion rode your face, trying to act innocent like you had no reason behind Joel’s actions. “What do you mean?” You shrug.
Joel stands up, his hands draped by the stitched pockets of his jeans, his boots slowly connecting with the hardwood floors, causing you to walk backward at your leisurely pace. You and Joel were working in tandem—with each step he took, you took a step back. You felt slightly intimidated. In the back of your head, you never thought you would feel unnerved by a toy—a toy you never would’ve expected to come to life. 
That rush of cold flew through your back when you connected with the side of your closet, bringing your hands to the wall; that cold sensation connected with your hand. Joel’s looming figure had been present before you, his hand outstretched beside your head. Joel slowly moves his head toward your head; you feel his warm breath against you, causing your spine to chill — mentally blaming the wall. 
“C’mon, doll. You know exactly what I mean.” Joel’s voice made your breath hitch as you felt his mustache tickle against your neck. “I know what you want, your likes, know what you like to be called,” You feel Joel’s realistic fingers on your chin as he picks your head up to look into his eyes; you watch as he backs up from your ear. 
His soft but calloused hand was on your chin, slowly dragging his hand against the fabric of your shirt as you watched the wrinkles in your shirt flatten under the path his hand was sliding down your torso. You watched as the wrinkles disappeared, only to reaper after Joel’s hand moved from its position. Joel’s hand was slow but not too slow, like a snail’s pace, slow to the point where you felt each goosebump underneath his hand — under your shirt.
Joel’s hand had stopped on your waist, while his other hand was above your head as he leaned closer to your eyes. Bracing for the impact of Joel’s lips on yours, you close your eyes. 
The feeling of plump, soft lips against yours sent shivers traveling down your spine as you felt the grip on your waist was getting tighter — rougher. Your hands travel from the wall into Joel’s soft curls. You wanted Joel in the moment; you craved him — yearned for him. Memories of you dreaming of kissing Joel had finally come true; you didn't expect the kiss to feel so passionate, an end-of-the-world kiss — one that stopped the world from spinning.
The feeling of silk had flown through your fingers as you contorted your hands with Joel’s hair. Joel’s hands slid from your waist onto your ass — squeezing lightly, you gasped against his lips. 
Your heart skipping a beat seemed impossible, but Joel’s kisses begged to differ. Your hands slipped from Joel’s hair onto his face, and you felt his defined jawline and patchy beard; you felt soft but coarse underneath your palms, which was something you couldn’t imagine. Reminiscent of when your fingertips would travel against the painted beard, always wondering what it looked/felt like, at this moment, you can. 
Joel’s big hands leave an imprint on your ass; slowly, his hands start sliding down toward your inner thigh, bending his back closer to you so the connection of your lips doesn't break. “Jump,” Joel grumbles against your lips. You push your feet off the ground as Joel’s strength lifts you, chuckling against his lips, wrapping your legs around Joel’s waist; you feel his hands under your thighs, gripping into you with passion; you think his nails may leave crescent moons into your skin. 
Cold drywall leaves your back as Joel slowly turns you both around so your bed can face your back. With each step, your and Joel’s noses keep bumping into each other as your faces keep moving side to side from your passionate kiss. Joel’s mouth leaves yours as his lips trail down your jawline, lightly sucking. Your hands return to Joel's hair as his lips end on your neck.  
Lips on your neck, sucking, biting, Joel marking you with his lips, your moans kept escaping your lips as your fingers flowed through Joel’s hair like water. “Y’like that, baby?” Joel growled. You hiss through your teeth before answering. “Fuck, yes. I love it, Joel.”
Quickly turning his body, Joel sits on the edge of your bed. Your knees indent your mattress as you feel sitting down. His lips return to yours as Joel wraps his arms against the midsection of your back, melting your bodies together. Your hands make their way from Joel’s head onto his broad shoulders. Thinking the flannel was warming his skin, you wanted to get rid of it. 
Backing slightly away, you slip your hands down his hardened chest; you start to fumble with the first button. Quickly unbuttoning the first one, you were on your way to the next one; Joel took notice of your hands and broke the kiss to look at what you were doing. “What are ya doing, doll?”
“Trying to get this flannel off you,” You grumble, popping the second button off. 
“Lemme help.” 
Joel moves his arms from your waist onto his flannel, smiling at you as you watch him pop the buttons out the loops. You watch as your childhood crush takes off his flannel and throws it over your shoulder, chest hair littering his chest. You slowly bring your hand onto his chest—above where his heart should be — but you don't feel a bump vibrate against your hand. You remember that Joel isn't human, which somewhat shatters your heart. 
Joel notices your saddened eyes; he places his hand over yours and looks deep into your eyes, his brown eyes piercing into your soul. “J’so ya know, I may not have a heart, but my love f’you is more important than anything else in this goddamn world. You're one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.”
“I don't want to live in a world where I don't see your smile every day; it's a reminder t’myself that no matter what, my love for you is the most real thing for me.”
You smirk at Joel’s confession, quickly smashing your lips against his. The tears brimming your tear ducts, trickling down from your eyes, wiping your eyes as you back up and look at Joel. “You are such a softie, you know that?”
“Only for you, sweetheart.” Joel quickly pushed his lips against yours, wrapping his arms around your midsection and moving your arms around his neck. 
Feeling Joel’s smile against your lips, you're quickly surprised when you feel Joel stand up and, in one motion, spin you both around so your back is on your mattress. You can’t help but smile gleefully as he backs up from you — sliding your shirt up and planting kisses trailing from your chest to your navel. His thick fingers grab the waistband of your pants as he slides them down. “Lift your hips, doll.” You do as Joel commands; he slides your pants off your thighs and throws them in the corner where your hamper used to reside, leaving your underwear on, your cock hard and covered by your underwear. 
“Look a’that, y’hard f’me already, doll?” You chuckle at Joel; you gasp as you feel his lips press the tip of your hard-covered cock. With each kiss brought against the tip and the shaft of your cock, it feels like heaven to you, bringing you absolute bliss against your skin. You get your foot against Joel’s shoulder as your other one hangs off the edge of the bed, arching your back in pleasure as Joel’s mouth moves down your thigh. 
Joel looks up at you and smiles as he kisses your leg. Noticing the wet spot appears on your underwear. Pre-cum slowly escaping the slit of your cock. “Let’s get these underwear off you.” You didn't need Joel to tell you to lift your hips reflectively. You lifted your pelvis, and he slid the underwear off you. Your hard throbbing cock slaps against your navel, a line of pre-cum connects with your stomach. “God, you’re s’fuckin’ perfect, baby.” 
Standing up from his position, he softly presses his lips against yours, bringing his hand into the bend of your knee, his other hand holding the side of your face. Joel’s tongue licked your bottom lip, awaiting your mouth to open. Slightly parting your lips, Joel slips his tongue into your mouth, causing you to smile at Joel’s eagerness. 
“How do you feel?” Joel questions against your lips.
“Fan-fuckin-tastic.” You answer, bearing your teeth. “How about I make you feel even fuckin’ better.” Joel’s question came out as a statement, causing you to question his meaning. Without warning, Joel backs up from your face and laps his tongue on the shaft of your cock, making a moan escape from your mouth, sliding his tongue slowly up the head of your cock, moans escaping your mouth. “F-fuck, Joel,” You breathe. 
“Y’like that, baby?” 
You breathe out an answer as Joel starts playing the slit of your cock with his tongue. “Yes.” 
“Makin’ sure that you deserve somethin’. You’re too precious to be mistreated.”
Joel must've heard all the times you would complain to your best friend about how one guy seemed great but lacked something when it came to sex. Joel was showing what you’ve been craving for a guy to reciprocate when you pleasured them, but he wasn't expecting anything back; he was just glad to pleasure his boy first. 
Wrapping his mouth slowly around the tip of your cock, Joel slowly goes down the shaft of your length, causing you to moan and white knuckle your sheets as you throw your head back — arching your back and snapping your eyes shut in pleasure. 
His pace was slow but patient. Joel wanted to make you feel something you rarely experienced — over the moon. Wrapping his hands around the shaft of your cock, his fingers would let go for a moment before wrapping.
Dragging your fingers into Joel’s curls, you slowly push his head down, hoping he could speed up. “Fuck, Joel. Can you go faster, please?”
“I can do ya one better, doll.”
As Joel’s mouth felt warm around your cock, he started to go faster as you gasped in pleasure; you felt Joel’s hand slide from your thigh as he slowly began to tease your hole. The skin of your taint felt sensitive with each stroke of Joel’s finger teasing you; each swipe, each light prodding made your body shiver in anticipation. Your cock has never been in overdrive as much as this — Joel was slowly rising you towards your peak. Your cock twitches in Joel’s mouth showing the throbbing pain that was threatening to shoot out. 
Slowly and agonizing, Joel slides his mouth off your cock, swallowing his spit; Joel wipes the reminder off his lips with the back of his hand, glances at you, and chuckles as Joel strokes your cock. “Y’close, doll?”
“Yes,” You whimper. “So fuckin’ close. It hurts so much. Can I cum yet, Joel?”
A chuckle left his throat, a sly smirk appearing on his face as he stared at you. Joel stops pumping your cock — landing on your stomach, precum leaking from the slit. “Not yet, doll. We haven't had our fun yet.”
Lifting your legs, Joel slides his head down deeper in between your thighs. He laps his tongue against your aching hole; a shaky moan escapes your lips as you hold your legs up so Joel can get better access to your hole. His hands are planted on your inner thighs as he keeps his tongue against your taint. 
Joel’s tongue felt like magic against you, showing you things you’ve never felt before — things you’ve only imagined happening. His tongue sliding up and down, in and out of your hole, made you want to cum by how much Joel was treating you. 
His plump lips planting kisses against your taint made your toes curl — the bones could pop out, your nails digging into the skin of your thighs, your moans escaping from you with each movement of Joel’s lips and tongue was giving you pleasure. 
That sensation of something feeling pushed inside you came rushing in as you let go of one of your thighs, gripped the sheets below you, and threatened to rip them up. You look down at Joel, looking up at you with a smirk on his face; you notice what is being pushed inside you; Joel’s thick middle finger has taken a turn to please you. 
“Y’like that, don’t you, baby?”
“Mhmm,” You whimper, throwing your head back, closing your eyes, and biting your lip. 
“I told ya, I know what you like, basically what you’ve been yearnin’ for.” 
“But, you gotta let me know if it’s too much for you, baby. I can't read minds yet.”
“It’s it too much?” Joel questioned.
You shake your head to deny Joel’s question. “It’s just right, it’s so fuckin’ right,” You grit your teeth. 
Sliding another finger in, Joel’s pace had gone faster. You knew Joel was trying to test your limit; you never knew your limit; you were glad to try to figure it out with someone you trusted. 
“Look at that; your hole wraps around m’fingers; it keeps sucking me in no matter how hard I try to pull out.”
Sudden movements from your hips as you kept raising your hips and bringing them back down. Gritting your teeth, tiny whimpers left through your teeth. Pleasure flowed through your entire body — a new goal you never knew you could reach.
Joel would never admit this, but him being the reason whimpers were leaving your mouth, you squirming because of his fingers and mouth, he was fucking over the moon to be the first person ever to make you feel this way. 
“J-Joel?” You breathed.
“Yeah, doll?”
“Can I please suck your cock?” 
Joel was conflicted by your question; all he wanted to do was make you feel good, he wasn’t expecting anything in return, but he wanted to know what that perfect mouth of yours felt around his cock. 
Slipping his fingers outside your hole, aching for more, Joel smirks at you and opens his mouth to speak. “Yes, you can, doll.” As you sit up, you notice the length that resided in his jeans; your eyes almost pop from their sockets from what you have just seen. You’d never seen anything that big in porn, yes, but never in real life. 
Noticing your astonishment, Joel looked at his jeans and then back up at you. “Is this size good enough, sweetheart?” You nod your head. Sliding your back against the mattress, you slid so your knees hit the wood below you. Watching the eagerness flood Joel’s eyes made you feel that excitement swimming in your stomach. The button of his jeans popped above you, and hearing the zipper going down, you watched as Joel’s cock popped out from its restraints.
Joel’s throbbing cock bounced in front of you, precum leaking from the slit of Joel’s cock. In your eyes, Joel’s cock looked more realistic than plastic. You wouldn’t lie; you were a curious kid; you had removed Joel’s clothes before and only noticed a blob on where his dick was now. The veins traveled up the shaft of his cock, stopping at the mushroom tip of his cock. The happy trail from Joel’s tummy showed up his pubic hair that rested above the shaft of his cock. Your mouth went dry in anticipation. It was the first you had seen a dick this big and thick before and so close to your face. 
“You alright, doll?”
Shooting your eyes up at Joel, you can tell a bit of worry on his face. “Yeah, I-I’m fine. Just never seen a dick this big before,” You admitted. Bending down so his face is in front of you, softly placing his hand against your cheek in reassurance. “We can take it slow if you want to.” You nodded at Joel’s words as he planted his lips against your forehead and stood straight. Dragging Joel’s jeans down as your knuckles brushed up against the hair on Joel’s thighs, gravity stopping Joel’s jeans when they stop at his ankles, your hand wraps the shaft of his cock. You slowly wrap your lips around the tip of Joel’s cock, and you hear him exhale in pleasure. 
Slowly pushing your head down the shaft of Joel’s cock, lips wrapped tight, you feel the veins trace the skin of your lips as the head of Joel’s cock press into the back of your throat. A groan of pleasure escapes Joel’s lips as you back your head up. You push your head forward and back leisurely, and you can tell the pace makes Joel go crazy. His member in your mouth kept throbbing against the roof of your mouth. Suddenly, your pace went a little faster; you looked up and noticed Joel’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, his hands were in tight fists, his knuckles threatening to pop out from his hand. The taste of salt fell upon your tongue as you backed your head up from Joel’s cock. A line of spit mixed with precum connecting from your mouth to the tip of Joel’s cock was made apparent, eventually dropping onto the ground below you as you wrapped your hand around Joel’s cock and started pumping his shaft.
The moans escaping Joel’s lips were music to your ears as your moans were to Joel. “Fuck, baby. Y’so good at that. Those boys are so fuckin’ stupid.” His southern drawl causes summersaults in your stomach. Sliding your mouth back onto Joel’s cock, a deep moan escapes his lips as your lips were at a quick pace, your hands planted on Joel’s thighs, the hair on his thighs pressed up against your hand as the tip of Joel’s cock kept hitting the back of your throat.
Moans, grunts, whines, and whimpers were all escaping from Joel’s lips, his hands holding onto your head as his hips humped into your head, his cock pressing deeper – causing you to gag a couple of times. Your nose kept poking into where Joel’s pubic hair rested; the scent was intoxicating, causing your cock to leak with precum below you. 
Suddenly, Joel held your head – your throat grasping around his cock, causing you to gag more. Slobber escaping your mouth as with each inhale through your nose – resting on Joel’s hairy patch made it impossible to exhale without gagging. Your palms were getting sweaty against Joel’s meaty thighs, the hair on his legs feeling nonexistent against your slippery hands.
His hands slide your head back, and lines of spit connect from his cock to your top and bottom lips. Deep inhales and exhales leave your body as you watch Joel slightly shudder. His cock glistened in your spit, throbbing. Sweat littered Joel’s hairy chest and forehead; you swallowed the spit in the back of your throat from your excessive breathing. Your forehead felt heavy with sweat as you looked up at Joel; he slid his hand up his forehead, pushing the curls that had stuck to his forehead. “Fuck, sorry, baby. Y’mouth is so fuckin’ addictin’.” 
“Don’t think I’m finished with you yet, Joel,” You spoke, disregarding his apology. Quickly eager to show Joel what you meant, you pick up his cock and slide your tongue on the underside of Joel’s shaft. Lapping your tongue against his veins, you could hear Joel praise you from above. “So fuckin’ perfect, who wouldn’t want to treat you right?”
Bringing your tongue slowly down to make Joel squirm, you feel his body Joel a little bit as you are still holding his cock in your hand; you place your mouth around his ball sack and lightly suck on one of them. “OH, FUCK!” Joel groaned. Joel’s body felt like jelly – incapable of holding himself up; Joel hadn’t felt this level of pleasure before, from anything he’s ever fucked before. “You like that, baby?” You asked. “Yes,” Joel gritted his teeth. “God, I love it s’much.” Backing your mouth up, you stroke Joel’s cock and watch Joel hold his head back and moans escaping his lips. Bending down, Joel places his hands between the fold of your armpits and picks you up from your knees. 
Planting his lips against yours, the kiss you shared between the two of you felt hungry, Lips mashing against each other, teeth clashing against each other. Joel’s arms holding you tightly against his torso. Joel was fucking starving for you as his lips were latching against your cheeks, jawline, against the skin of your neck. That feeling of Joel’s teeth against your neck made you know Joel was marking you as his. Your nails drag against Joel’s soft curls as you enjoy Joel’s mouth, bringing his head up back against your lips. Sweat from Joel’s chest was seeping through your shirt. You wanted to take it off to feel Joel’s skin against yours. Backing your head away from Joel’s, his head following suit as he watches you attempt to take your shirt off.
Holding the hem of your shirt, Joel helps you slide your shirt off your head, wrapping your arms around Joel’s neck, him wrapping his arms against your lower back. The warmth of each other’s bodies radiated against each other. Your cocks rubbed against each other; the warmth you both shared was hot enough to blow the roof off your bedroom. This experience felt surreal, like a dream you didn’t want to wake up from. 
Backing his head away from your lips, you notice a look of dominance in Joel’s eyes, which darken as he opens his mouth to speak. “Get on that bed, so I can fuck you the way you, a good boy like you should be fucked.”
“But, what if I’ve been a bad boy?” You tease. 
Leaning his head toward your ear. “Then I’ll have to punish you.”
“Get on that fuckin’ bed,” Joel commanded. You listened to Joel, letting your arms go from around his neck, your knees bent on the bed, as you pushed yourself to land your head where your pillow rested, your back collided with the soft cloud-like material. You watched Joel climb on the bed, stopping as he was positioned right between your legs. “Put your leg on my shoulder.”
Compiling to what Joel commanded, your ankle rested on Joel’s broad shoulder. A line of spit leaves Joel’s mouth and connects to the tip of his cock, rubbing the spit to lube up his cock. Slowly leaning over you, one next to your head, fingers spread apart. Joel moves his hand from the tip to his shaft as he starts to tease you – making you shudder in anticipation. 
Moving his cock to poke your hole makes you yearn for him every slight push into you. Hisses escaped your gritted teeth as you craved to feel good. “Joel, can you please fuck me?”
“Nuh uh, bad boys don’t get to beg,” Joel grinned.
Joel had let go of his length and placed his other hand next to the other side of your head. His hips were grinding into you, making you gasp and make your spine chill. Joel’s cock kept rubbing up against your sensitive tip, making you physically shudder and making your cock feel like it was about to burst. “I can tell how much you love this. M’cock grinding up against yours before I get you pregnant.” Your breath hitched as Joel’s voice made you want him more – you’ve never wanted anyone this bad before. 
“Joel, please. I need you.”
“How bad do you need me, sweetheart?” Joel growled into your ear. 
“So fuckin’ much, it's unbearable.”
“Well then, are you going to be my good boy?’
Nodding your head, you shut your eyes and licked your lips in anticipation. You notice that your ankle comes off Joel’s shoulder and collides with the mattress. You feel his lips press against yours briefly as you open your eyes and see Joel’s brown orbs looking into yours before he opens his mouth to speak. “Well, I can’t keep my good boy waitin’.” Looking in between your bodies, Joel adjusts his cock; you feel it press into you for a split second. He looks back up to you, “You ready, sweetheart?”
“Yeah, I am,” You answer. 
Joel slowly pushes in, and you feel the tip agonizingly stretch you out. Your moans rattle the walls next to you both. “Does it hurt, baby?” You shake your head, denying Joel’s question. His shaft is halfway in before he pulls out fast. You gasp before breathing heavily. “Damn, baby. Y’so fuckin’ tight,” Joel commented. Once again, Joel slides his cock into you, making your moans more intense than before. Halfway in, Joel rocks his hips back and forth slowly into you. Your eyes snapped shut intensely, straining your eyelids. The pain was starting to feel good, too good.
“Is this okay, baby?”
Opening your eyes, you notice the concern in Joel’s eyes. He looked so sweet, caring, and compassionate; you’ve always seen him like that growing up. “Yes, Joel. It’s okay,” You smile. Leaning down to kiss you, Joel’s hips still rocking into your hole, moans exiting your mouth and entering Joel’s. Feeling Joel slowly stretch you out felt indescribable; it felt good, but you did want Joel to go faster. “Joel,” You moan against Joel’s mouth. “Yes, baby?” 
Joel backs up to hear you properly. Before you could get a word out to Joel, one push further in, and you feel the base of Joel’s cock clap into you, which echoes throughout the room. Joel realizes what this means; a sly grin appears on Joel’s lips. “Hold that thought, doll,” Joel commanded.
His pace was faster and rougher. Claps rang throughout the room with each thrust, like an audience applauding at the end of a play. Your hands gripped the sheets or ran your hand down Joel’s back while Joel had his hand on the headboard. It felt like Joel had read your mind at that moment, knowing that you wanted more and that he would give it to you. “I can tell y’wanted this before you even said it, baby. Could hear ya screamin’ at me to fuck you harder.’
“Y’wanted this, didn’t ya?” Joel grunted. 
“God, yes, Joel. I’ve wanted something like this for so long, begging for it. This feels fucking amazing.”
“I’can say the same about this boy pussy of yours, grippin’ onto me so tight, it doesn’t want to let go, and I don’t think I want it to.” You bring your hands up to Joel’s back and dig your nails into his sleek skin; an exhale leaves Joel’s mouth as the pain settles in, but it subsides. 
“Mark me, baby. Make me yours.” 
Your nails drag down Joel’s back until you reach the small of Joel’s back. Joel bows his head, grabs your chin, and smashes his lips against yours, but his thrusts stop. You don’t feel anything warm inside you, so you know he didn’t cum. Wrapping your arms around his neck, Joel lifts you for a second so you can get up from the sheets below you. Noticing Joel starts to lay himself down, you quickly move your hands on the mattress to keep yourself from crashing into Joel. You still feel Joel’s cock inside you as his hips start to lift up and down. 
That time when you complained about only being in one position with a guy, Joel did hear you and was giving you something you wanted. 
“Sorry for the sudden stop, wanted to fuck you more.”
Backing your head up, you watched as Joel bore his teeth and started to fuck you senselessly. Wrapping his arms tight around your lower back. Your nails dug into the soft material under your sweaty palms; you could feel the fibers begin to tear a bit. “You like this, don’t ya, baby? Being fucked like the sluts I’ve seen you watch on your phone.”
“Craving to be them, wanting someone to fuck you till you can’t feel your legs no more, huh?”
“Yes.” You whined. 
“Wantin’ someone as strong and big as those guys you watch to be able to fill your sweet, tight, boy pussy with hot cum.”
Nodding your head. “Mhmm.”
“Well, I’m here. I’m gonna satisfy your needs, your aches, your cravings for you to be filled with cum. If anyone else tries. I’ll gladly show them who can treat you better and fuck you in front of them, understood, baby.”
“Mhmm.” 
Joel’s hand connects with your ass, a hard smack against it; a cry leaves your mouth. “I need a fuckin’ yes, boy.”
“Yes, Joel, yes.” You whined.
You felt something move from inside you. You see, Joel looks to wear your cock, but he’s looking in between you both. “You feel my cock twitchin’ inside you, doll? You want me to cum inside you?”  “Yes,” You quickly answer and nod. “You’re leakin’ all over my stomach, baby; you wanna cum too?” 
You whimper out an answer. “Then, I better give my boy what he wants.”
Joel slides his cock out of you and lays you on your stomach as he comes up from behind you and slowly teases you. You feel his cock glide between the bends of your ass cheeks, feelings his balls press into them. “Damn, your ass is achin’ f’me right now. I will give you what you deserve, boy.” 
That feeling of being stretched out came back as you rested your forehead on the bed. Joel’s hands dug into your skin; each push of his length made your moans push out of you more. It was like your body was in heat — Joel’s heat. He was an animal in heat when it came to you. Nodding your head, you felt Joel’s hand on your throat and his lips against your ear — his mustache tickling it. “I’m so –thrust–  close to – cummin’ inside this tight ass of yours, baby. Do you want my cum to swim inside you?”
“Yes, Joel. I fuckin’ do.” 
“Then let me give you what you deserve.” Backing his head up, Joel dug into your skin like he was kneading dough; his thrusts were rough, almost splitting you in half. You could feel his cock throb inside you as you felt your shaft pulsating. You knew you were about to cum. “Fuck, I can’t get enough of you, baby. I don’t wanna stop after I cum in you.” “Joel, I’m so close. Keep going.”
“Fuck,” Joel growled. “I love it when you beg like that.”
His pace was going faster, and it felt the tip of your cock felt like it was going to explode with your cum. “Fuck, Joel. I’m gonna cum.” 
“Fuck, baby. Me too.’
“Here it comes,” Joel gritted his teeth. 
With one final push, you feel your cum shoot out onto the sheets below you, and you also feel Joel’s cum swim inside you. Light breaths are escaping both of you as you feel Joel slide his cock out of you; a squelching sound is heard as Joel’s cock finally dislodges from your hole. A sigh of relief exits Joel’s mouth as he connects his back to the bed. Turning your neck, you see Joel — soft cock against his stomach as you see his chest dip and rise from the breaths he’s taking.
Picking yourself up from your position, you lay down next to Joel, your head resting on his sweaty, hairy chest. Joel’s arm wraps around you as he pulls you closer to him. 
“So, was that everything you’ve ever wanted?” Joel questioned. 
Nodding your head against his chest. “Yeah, and better than what I could imagine.”
Joel chuckles at your statement, and you join him. Once the laughter dies down, a realization hits him like a bag of bricks. “Y’know, for a moment, I forgot that you’re running off to college without me. Followin’ those dreams and gettin’ your degree.”
“Joel,” You start.
“Havin’ a life, a career, findin’ someone who will love you as much as I do.”
“Joel,” You repeat. 
“Havin’ kids of your own, playin’ with their own action figures or dolls, and I’ll be at the bottom of some —”
“JOEL.” 
Joel jumped at your sudden outburst; he was looking at you instead of the ceiling. He saw you staring at him; he felt frightened but safe simultaneously. You suddenly straddle his lap, his hands on your waist, molding his hands onto you. “You’re coming with me to college.” 
“W-what?” Joel smiled. “When did you come to that decision?” 
“When you gave the most beautiful profession of love when I was on your lap, it made me realize something.” Joel awaited your realization, but he couldn’t lie; you sitting naked on his lap like that, faces inches away from each other, he was starting to get horny again. “I know you can never be real, but that’s okay; it sucks that we won’t grow old together, but you’ll always be there for me, and if I do meet someone, you’ll always be the first person I’ve ever loved, Joel.”
A smile appeared on Joel’s face; you couldn’t tell if sweat or a tear was falling from Joel’s eye when he quickly rolled you on your back and was inches away from you. His smell was intoxicating; the sweat mixed with lust made your cock twitch like crazy. “You’re such a softie, y’know that?” Joel quoted. 
“Only for you, sweetheart,” You quoted. 
“Now, how do you feel about one more round?” Joel questioned. 
“Well, everyone will be out for a while.”
“Should I take my time?”
“Joel, fuckin’ show me a good time.” 
“Okay, my good boy, lemme show you a good time,” Joel states, kissing your lips. Feeling the love from Joel’s kisses, you realize you didn’t need anyone to love you as much as Joel did, and you were fine with that. You didn’t care that he wasn’t real; he felt he was real to you, and that’s all you need.
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simp4pedropascal75 · 2 days
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"Everywhere." (dbf!joel x reader)
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summary: Before beginning to work in your new job, you decided to visit your dad in Texas for the whole summer break. What you didn't know is, that you would meet your teenager's crush, your dad's best friend, again. Joel fucking Miller.
words: 5.4k
trigger warnings: dbf!Joel, age gap (reader is in her 20s, Joel is in his early 40s), no!outbreak!Joel, some mentions of y/n, a little bit angst, 18+, smut (f!nger!ng, praising, s3x, ect.)
a/n: well, it's been a while since I posted. I hope you're all doing well and I hope you'll enjoy this new ff. <3
(sorry for spelling mistakes, english is still not my first language)
-------------------♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡-------------------
It has been two months now since you have this special affair. Every time you sneak over to him, your breath quickens, and butterflies fly around in your stomach when you’re getting nearer to him.
Every time you lay in bed alone, you feel his hands and his kisses all over you.
Every time you think of him, thinking of every night you two had… you can't bear the ache between your legs.
But it is not just the sex…
Every time you’re with him, you forget all your worries and fears.
Every time you're with him, he makes you feel safe.
He makes you feel loved.
He makes you feel alive.
When you think of all this, it is just perfect.
But it's not.
No one can know.
No one can know that you sneak out mostly every night to go to him.
No one can know how you feel about him.
No one can see.
It has to be a secret.
When you’re not alone, you just have to act like your just neighbours…
Even if you are neighbours.
It’s not easy. It’s hard.
But even if the fear of having to end everything doesn’t let you go… it doesn’t keep you from doing it.
Maybe someday, you can let everybody see.
See that you love him.
But that’s all just in your head. You love him, you really do, but… it’s complicated.
You don’t know if he really feels the same way about you do.
But there’s one thing you really know.
You’re in love with Joel Miller.
Yes, the Joel Miller who’s nearly twenty years older than you.
The Joel Miller who’s you’re neighbour and has known you since you’re a teenager.
The Joel Miller you’ve watched doing work in his garden.
The Joel Miller with these beautiful eyes and strong arms.
And… the Joel Miller who’s unfortunately your dad’s best friend.
You were 14 when you moved to Texas with your dad. It was shortly after your mom and dad’s divorce. He got the legal custody of you. And you were kind of relieved that you didn’t have to live with your mother. Sometimes in the past, she got pretty impulsive towards you and your parents just kept fighting. But you still have some contact with her.
So, it was good to begin all over again. You went to a new school, made some friends and all kinds of that stuff. Your dad also found a new job and got along with the neighbors, especially Joel Miller.
They got along pretty well, since they were both a single dad with one daughter.
But all besides that, you never really knew him. You waved him when you saw him outside.
When he was over at, your dad's house you simply said hello. You never really wanted to talk to your dads' friends.
But everything changed when you became older. You remember how your dad asked you to look after Joel 8 years old daughter Sarah and you didn’t say no to that. It was a good way of earning some money of your own.
So, you’re started with 18 to babysit Joel's daughter. And that’s when you started getting a slight crush on him. You noticed over time that you feel different with him than with the two or three boys in your age, you dated in the past. Over the two years you’ve started getting an immense crush on him, but it was hopeless. It was just a dream fantasy of him and you getting together since he was that older than you. Just a teenager’s crush.
At the end of 19 you left for college in Louisiana and told yourself to grow up. You studied philosophy and even if it wasn’t always so easy, you finished from college and then even got a job as a professor in another university to teach philosophy.
But before you started working in your new job, there was a long summer break. And after all the learning and writing exams, you deserved it the most.
You decided to visit your dad in Texas and stay there for the whole break because you didn’t see him often for the past years. You also wanted to spend your 26th birthday with him and in your second hometown.
You pulled over your car in the driveway and parked. As you got out of the car, your dad already walked towards you. “Oh, there’s my girl!”, he smiled happily and hugged you tightly. “It’s so good to be back home!”, you said. Your dad and you small talked for a bit while he was getting out your luggage out of the car. Suddenly, you heard a very familiar voice.
“Hey buddy”, you heard, and you turned around. You saw them talking and then saw who he was.
“Hey, you still remember …?”, your dad says but you already finished the sentence in your thoughts.
Joel.
When he stands in front of you, you freeze. He looks even hotter than before…
How can someone look that good in his 40s?
You cleared your throat. “Yea- of course”, you responded. Your heart begins to race. “Umm- How’s Sarah?”, you asked firmly. “She’s doing really well. She’s on a vacation with some of her school friends for the whole summer break. But she would be so happy to see you”, you remembered him replying with his texan accent.
And that’s how everything started. You saw him way more often and talked to him when he was at your dad’s house. He made you laugh and feel safe. Every time he was just near you, you couldn’t think rationally. The first weeks after your arrival, you spend a lot of time with Joel since there was a lot going on your dad’s work.
Every morning after breakfast you went over to his house and you two played UNO, chess or simple board games. He showed you around the neighbourhood and told you everything you’ve missed while your away. You noticed that during the time you spent together, he looked at you in a different way. You thought you’re just being delusional, but he acted differently towards you, but differently good.
You often caught him staring at you, every time he called you “darling” or “princess”, you got goosebumps and when you teased him, which you loved, he got so nervous.
There was just this tension between you two.
And one day, it just happened. You were at his house and put on your shoes to go home because it was already kind of late and you wanted to get home before your dad did.
Joel was sitting on the couch, watching football. “You’re sure you got everything?”, he asked you while looking at the TV. “Yea- I think so”, you replied and put on your jacket. You put your hands in your pockets and noticed that you forgot your keys. They were lying next to Joel on the other side of the couch.
You smirked, walked over to him and bend right over his lap to grab your keys. “ ‘just need to grab my keys…”, you mumbled and felt his whole body getting tense. “I know what you’re doing...”, you remember him mumbling under his breath.
“I’m not doing anything, old man”, you chuckled, grabbed your keys and walked towards the door. He stood up and you thought he would open the door for you, like he always did, like a gentleman. But now he was just standing there.
“Well, I wish you a good night, then”, you smiled and opened the door half way, until he closed it. He pushed you against it and the next second you felt his lips on yours. You froze and the butterflies in your belly got crazy. Your heart was racing but you immediately wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back.
And that’s how this whole affair thing started.
Nearly every night you sneaked out to him, like today.
You’re in his bedroom and the only thing you can hear is heavy breathing, moans and skin clapping together. “Joel-“, you breath out while you’re lying on your stomach, and he’s fucking you from behind.
His one hand grabbing your waist and the other hand pulling your hair back, makes your eyes roll back. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight-“, he groans and thrusting into you even deeper.
You squeeze your eyes together, slowly feeling that very familiar feeling in your lower stomach. “Joel, I’m gonna-“, he cuts you off.
“No, not now. I wanna look at you-“, he gasps, and you suddenly feel an emptiness in you, as he pulls out.
“Joel-“, you whine, and he flips you around on your back. “Shh, you can take it”, he breathes. He leans over you and kisses you passionately. His tongue explores your mouth, and you still can taste yourself in his mouth from him eating you out earlier.
His hand slides over your belly, grabbing your breast and squeezing them harshly while his other hand spreads your legs. He breaks the kiss, and you gasp for air. You look right into his eyes… his beautiful eyes.
He rubs his tip over your wet pussy, teasing you. “Fuck Joel- I cant-“, you whimper and bite your lower lip. “You can…”, he whispers and pushes his hard dick into you.
You moan satisfied as the emptiness fades away. He begins thrusting into you while his hand is slowly wrapping around your neck.
“You’re such a good girl…”, he groans and pushing your waist into the mattress. It doesn’t take you long for you to feel that familiar feeling again. Joel feels it too.
Between your loud moans and breaths, you want to say it, but he places his lips on yours. “I know, baby… me too”, he breaths. Everything gets tense in your body.
You chuckle slightly, but your chuckle fades quickly, by feeling him directly hitting your g-spot. Your moans get louder and you roll back your eyes.
“Look at me…”, he slightly growls by being just concentrated on you. You feel his dick twitching inside of you. You pull yourself together and look at him. His strong arms, six-pack shining in the moonlight that comes through the window.
“My beautiful girl…”, he moans, and that’s it
“Cum for me.”, and you do. You cum all over his dick which leaves you breathless. You look at him, while he continues thrusting into you two more times, until you see his mouth opening and feeling him filling you right up.
You come fresh out of the shower wearing comfy shorts and a white tank top. You put your towel dried hair up in a bun and walk downstairs to the kitchen. You hear the shower still running upstairs, since Joel is still in there.
You walk to the fridge and open it. You get out a beer for Joel and an ice cream for you. You close the fridge and walk to the living room, placing the cold beer on the table and take a quick look at the clock.
12pm
While eating your ice cream, you look at Joels house plants, which just nearly survived because of you. You chuckle sightly and begin watering them.
“they would already be dead if I didn’t had you“, you hear Joels voice say behind you.
“I know”, you reply quietly and concentrated on the plants. You hear Joel sit down on the couch and open his beer. As you keep watering the plants, you see Joel searching for the TV remote.
“it is literally right next to you”, you sigh and let out a chuckle. You put the watering can away and jump on the couch next to him. His stare is fixed on the TV while he drinks his beer. You rest your head on his shoulder and he puts his hand on your thigh, caressing it.
“Joel”, you mumble and keep watching TV.
“Hm..?”, he hums.
“Í have been thinking about… well, how this all will go on, when the summer break ends..”, you whisper cautious, watching his reaction directly.
All you hear is a sigh from him while he takes a sip from his beer. “go on?”, he replies focused on the TV. You gulp, moving away from him and sitting up.
“well yes- how will this thing go on?”, you ask more seriously, pointing on him and you. “or don’t you want it goes on?”, you mumble, feeling your heart getting heavier.
“‘never really thought about it-“´, he replies with a sound like he doesn’t really give a shit, he’s just concentrated on his TV. You scoff and get up. You grab your bag pack and walk to the entrance, slipping into your shoes.
“wait-“, Joel sighs and you hear him get up. “that’s not what I meant”, he mumbles and rubs his forehead while watching you.
“well, I think its really clear what you mean and think”, you scoff again and grab your jacket. “look- I never really thought about it”, he grabs your hand and pulls you towards him.
“I don’t know what you expect from me-“, he mumbles. Your heart gets heavier again, and you shake your hand, while you can't believe what’s really going on.
“what I expect you to-“, you stop and take a deep breath, “I’ll go, my dad will come back from work soon”, you whisper and get your hand out of his grip.
Opening the door. “good night, Joel”, you mumble and walk to your house. The last thing you hear from Joel was a loud sigh, and then the closing of the door.
——
You’re laying in your bed, staring at the ceiling. The bright sunlight was shining through the window. You think about last night and sigh.
‘Did he really never thought about it…?’, you think to yourself.
You stand up and walk over to your desk. You look in the mirror, noticing some hickeys on your neck.
Your mind plays back last night, his lips pressed on your neck, while his fingers are buried inside of you. How he- “y/n, would you come down please?”, you hear your dad calling from downstairs, ripping you out of your thoughts.
“Yes!”, you reply and sigh. You quickly grab your cute summer dress out of your closet and quickly make yourself ready in the bathroom, covering up all these hickeys. While you run downstairs, you put your hair up in a messy bun. “What is it, dad?”, you ask loudly and walk into the kitchen.
“You remember how I talked about these grill party’s, every neighbour does for the neighbourhood? Today its my turn”, you hear him talking out of the living room, while you grab yourself a coke. “yeah, what about it?”, you ask, making your way into the living room.
“well, I need your help in organising, Joel isn’t enough, you know”, he laughs, and you freeze in the doorway, looking at Joel who’s sitting next to your dad on the couch.
“Joel is helping us since we’ll help him next week when he has to do the grill party”, your dad says, looking with a smirk to Joel. You don’t answer.
“hey? Did you hear what I said, lazy head?”, your dad laughs while Joel looks at you. “yea- um sorry. I heard you”, you mumble as you pull yourself together and clear your throat. “I mean, yea, I can help you. What should I do?”, you ask, trying to ignore Joel and just looking at your dad.
“well, while I get everything prepared here, you and Joel can get groceries shopping”, he suggests and takes a look at Joel, looking for a reply.
“Sure”, Joel replies and gives him a pat on his back. “I mean-“, you get cut off. “We’re already on our way”, Joel says and gets up, grabbing his cars keys which are laying on the couch. You scoff, shaking your head. “Come on”, Joel calls and opens the door.
“bye dad”, you mumble quietly and grab your shoes, putting them on and walking through the door, towards his car.
“Thanks for asking me”, you whisper annoyed and open the car door and take a seat.
“You’re welcome, darling”, Joel replies and gets in the front seat and starts the engine. As he begins driving, you let the window down and close your eyes, relaxing under the warm breeze on your face.
“how did you sleep?”, Joel suddenly asks, trying to smalltalk and you chuckle. “you’re really bad at small talk, you know that? But I didn’t sleep well, no”, you reply and watch the kid's playing soccer as you pass by a house.
“look, because of yesterday-“, Joel begins talking but then stops. He rubs his forehead and takes a deep breath.
“I-“, he tries. “we’re there”, you cut him off and directly as he parks you get out of the car.
You have no nerves for this now.
You two arrive back at your home, and take out the whole groceries, placing them on the kitchen counter.
“thanks you two”, your dad says as he walks past you, kind of stressed. “I’ll be back in a minute, I need to go over to Veronica”, he shouts since he’s already out of the door. Veronica is one of your neighbours, she’s a really nice old lady.
You look over to Joel next to you, who just finished taking out all the groceries. You suddenly feel his hands on your waist, turning you around and pressing you against the kitchen counter.
You let out a sigh. “Joel-“, you mumble and try to get out of his grip. “Look at me”, he says clearly and stern.
“Come on, now-“, you whine and he pushes you against the counter even more. “I said, look at me”, he stated. You roll your eyes and look up to him. “what?”, you whisper annoyingly.
The next thing you feel are his lips pressed on yours. You try to resist, but your body replies to him by opening your mouth, allowing his tounge to explore yours. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to you.
“I’m sorry…”, he breathes as you pause the kiss. “I’m sorry about yesterday.. of course I want all this to keep going, but- it’s just difficult”, he mumbles and presses his lips on yours again.
“I know…”, you murmur against his lips.
“we’ll figure something out…”, he whispers as he stops the kiss again and caresses your cheek.
You let out a slight smile and nod. You look right into his eyes and that’s when this desire kicks in again. You immediately slam your lips on his again, grabbing onto his shirt. You grab his hand, placing it on your clothed breast. He squeezes it harshly, rubbing with his fingers in circles around your nipple.
You whimper into the kiss, feeling this ache between your legs again. You grab his hand, leading it down your stomach, but he stops. “We can’t- your dad.”, he points out and stops.
“he’s not there yet- I need you…”, you whisper desperately into his ear.
Joel hesitates. “fuck…”, he hisses under his breath. That’s when his hand slips under your dress, pushing away your panties and sliding two fingers into your wet pussy. You let out a satisfied moan and let your head fall back.
“You need to be quick, baby”, he mumbles into your ear while he grabs your waist with his other hand, so he can support you in standing. His fingers slide in and out, searching after your soft spot. As he finds this spot, your moans get louder and your legs weaker.
“fuck, joel…”, you breath out, squeezing your eyes together as you feel your climax building up in your lower stomach. “come on, baby..”, he whispers into your ear while he hits this exact spot with his fingers. You hear the door unlock. As he feels you’re cumming, he covers your mouth with his hand.
“cum for me, sweetheart…”, he demands as he hits this spot one last time and you cum with a loud moan, which his hand muffles.
“I’m back”, you two hear your dad call and hear his steps getting nearer the kitchen. He pulls his fingers out of you, releases you out of his grip and licks off his fingers. You pull down your dress again and that’s when your dad comes in.
“everything okay?”, he asks with a smile and you nod, still out of breath.
“yea”, you reply and give him a forced smile back.
‘That was close’, you think to yourself.
“Well then, let’s make everything ready for tonight”, he chuckles and walks out of the kitchen. You take a glance at Joel, who’s still a little shocked since you two almost got caught. You go on tiptoes and place a kiss on his cheek. You take the groceries and carry them out to the garden, with Joel looking after you.
You hear so many laughters coming out of the garden while you’re in the kitchen to grab some drinks for outside. The whole garden was full, since almost the whole neighbourhood was there.
You go out, with all the drinks in your hand, placing them on the table. You take a glass of water and give it to Veronica, the old lady, which as your neighbour.
“thank you, sweetheart”, she says with a kind smile. You look around, and see everyone chatting, drinking or eating. Your stare falls on Joel, who was talking and laughing with your dad while they are standing at the grill.
‘He would never really approve of you and Joel, would he?’
You sigh.
But you remember Joel words…
“We’ll figure something out“
And that’s how the next following weeks kept going. You keep sneaking over to him at night. But your dad often noticed or saw you going out when he came home late from work, and then you always had to come up with some random excuse.
You slowly noticed that your dad has got quiet of sceptical and tried to talk about you once because you always go out late. But you’re a adult. And you really couldn’t care, all you could care about was him.
Joel Miller.
It was midnight and you and Joel are laying in his bed. You lay in his arms while he’s running his fingers through your hair. Your breath was still fast, 5 minutes ago he fucked the shit out of you.
You feel so safe and comfortable in his arms, but thinking about that you have to go back to Louisiana… You let out a sigh and hug him tightly.
“you’re okay?”, you hear Joel mumbling. You nod slowly, “yea”
Joel knows exactly what’s on your mind. “tell me, when you could go anywhere you want on this earth, where would it be?”, he asks and looks down at you.
You chuckle slightly. “I don’t know… I always wanted to see the northern lights”, you reply.
“why are you asking?”, you ask confused and sit up, pulling the blanket over your body.
“maybe I can take you there someday”, he mumbles and gives you a slight smirk.
You roll your eyes. “yea sure…”, you mumble.
“somewhere else too?”, he raises his eyebrows and sits up too.
“come on joel, don’t play with me”, you hit him playfully. “no, I mean it”, he grabs your waist and pulls you onto his lap.
“something else?”, he asks again.
“hmm… maybe- the maldives… I was never on the maldives”, you whisper.
“noted.”, he mumbles and pretends to write it down. You giggle. “somewhere else?”, he asks again with a smile.
God, how you love his smile.
“really? You don’t even have that much money, old man”, you chuckle as he grabs you by your waist again and pushes you in the mattress while leaning over you.
“i don’t care, i’ll take you wherever you wanna go.”, he whispers and looks right into your eyes. Your thoughts about you leaving immediately vanish and you give him a smile. He presses his lips on yours.
“everywhere?”, you mumble into his kiss while your heart was pounding like crazy.
He nods. “everywhere.”,
He replies and places kisses on your neck, while he slowly moves down your stomach. You bite your lip, looking at him how he disappears under the blanket between your legs. You let out a soft moan as you feel his lips pressed against your clit and give yourself totally to him.
You put on your shoes while the sun starts to come out slowly. “i’ll come back tonight, then”, you mumble tired and go on tiptoes to place a kiss on Joel’s lips. He hums against your lips in agreement.
“I thought about showing you how to play guitar…”, he whispers while his lips can’t leave yours. You let out a chuckle, “okay…”.
You grab your jacket and open the door. “see you then”, you smile and walk out the door.
You’re in town alone. You’re walking around the shopping centre to get some ingredients for your birthday cake. You’ll get 26 years old in 4 days.
Old, you think.
While you were grocery shopping, Joel was knocking at the door of your dads house.
Your dad opens the door. “Hey buddy, what do you need?”, he asks and leans against the doorframe.
“I need to borrow this toolkit of yours, ‘need to repair something”, Joel says and clears his throat. “Yea sure, come in”, your dad smiles and walks with him into the living room. “Wait here”, he says and after some minutes he comes back with the toolkit and hands it over to Joel.
“Thanks, buddy”, Joel replies and gives him a pat on your dads back.
Joel makes his way to the exit. “Hey um, I wanted to ask you something”, your dad stops Joel. He turns around and raises his eyebrows. “sure, what is it?”, Joel replies.
“well um- I noticed y/n sneaking around at night and coming home super tired- I mean, I know she’s a grown up, but she’s still my daughter. I’m just a little concerned , since we usually talk about almost everything“, your dad says and Joel gulps.
“do you know anything? You know, since you two spend some time together while I was working, I’m really grateful for that, buddy”, your dad continues, and Joel pulls himself together.
“sure- no thing, but I know nothing, sorry”, Joel mumbles and shrugs his shoulders. “okay… yea, I just don’t want her to get in trouble or anything, not that she sneaks around with some creep or something“, your dad laughs.
Joel let’s out a fake laugh too while a wave of guilt runs over his whole body.
“you’ll tell me, when you know something, right? Since we’re buddies?”, your dad asks and places his hand on Joel’s shoulder.
“Sure”, Joel replies and takes a deep breath.
“I’ll have to get going then”, he clears his throat again and your dad nods.
“sure, good luck with the toolkit”, your dad smiles and waves at him while Joel walks over the street to his house.
It was 10pm and you walk over Joel’s house with these butterflies in your stomach going crazy again and knock on the door. He opens it.
“Hey”, you say with a smile and go on tiptoes to give him a kiss, but he turns his head. You look at him confused.
“You’re okay?”, you chuckle and stand in front him, waiting for him to answer. He lets out a sigh and rubs his forehead.
“fuck…”, he mumbles under his breath while you raise one eyebrow.
“look- this can’t go on”, he finally speaks out and your heart literally drops.
“w-wait what?”, you stutter in shock and can’t believe this is real right now.
“this won’t and can’t work out.”, he points at you and him.
“what the fuck, joel. Yesterday, you talked with me that you would take me everywhere on this world- and now, you’re like- ending it?”, you repeat everything to make it yourself clear what’s happening right now.
“Look- this was a huge mistake. It’s just too complicated and-“, you cut him off.
“You said, we’ll figure something out“, you get louder and more upset while everything around you gets hotter and your eyes wetter.
“well- unfortunately we can’t. It can’t go on like this, y/n. you need to find someone else”, he mumbles stern.
“find someone else?!”, you repeat and can’t believe every word what’s coming out of his mouth.
“what the actual fuck… I thought you loved me-“, you nearly shout and a tear runs down your cheek.
“love you? I never loved you-“, he suddenly says out loud without thinking. And that’s when your whole world stands still. You stare at him with tears in your eyes.
“fuck you, joel.”, you hiss and slap him right into the face.
Then you just turn around and walk over to your house again, trying to control the emotions which are running through your whole body right now. You quickly wipe your tears away and go into your room, not looking back.
And just like that, everything ended.
It has been four days now since Joel ended this special affair.
You didn’t sneak over to him anymore, but your breath still quickens, and butterflies fly around in your stomach when you see him, but this time, with a sharp pain right into your stomach.
Every time you lay in bed alone, you feel his hands and his kisses all over you.
Every time you think of him, thinking of every night you two had… you can't bear the ache between your legs.
But it was not just the sex…
Every time you were with him, you forgot all your worries and fears.
Every time you were with him, he made you feel safe.
He made you feel loved.
He made you feel alive.
When you think of all this, it was just perfect.
But it wasn’t.
No one could’ve known.
No one could’ve known that you sneaked out mostly every night to go to him.
No one can know how you still feel about him.
No one can see.
It had to be a secret.
When you’re not alone, you just have to act like your just neighbours, what you now just are.
It’s still not easy. It’s hard.
But now that the fear of having to end everything came true… it keeps you from doing it.
Now it’s just a fantasy that maybe someday, you can let everybody see.
See that you love him.
But that’s all just in your head. You love him, you really do, but… it’s more than complicated.
You know that he doesn’t really feel the same way about you do.
But there’s one thing you really know.
You’re in love with Joel Miller.
Yes, the Joel Miller who’s nearly twenty years older than you.
The Joel Miller who’s you’re neighbour and has known you since you’re a teenager.
The Joel Miller you’ve watched doing work in his garden.
The Joel Miller with these beautiful eyes and strong arms.
The Joel Miller who’s unfortunately your dad’s best friend.
And… The Joel Miller who broke your heart in thousand pieces.
You sit in front your birthday cake. Your dad nearly invited the whole neighborhood and now everyone waits for you to blow out your candles. You know Joel’s here too and you feel his eyes on you. That’s when the sharp pain kicks in again.
You look up from your cake and see him leaned against the doorframe of the living room.
‘You’ll regret it, Joel’, you think to yourself.
Then you look on your candles again and blow them out.
“Happy fucking birthday to me”
243 notes · View notes
penvisions · 1 day
Text
by the grit of sandpaper {chapter 3}
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Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader
Chapter Summary: With the overnight patrol behind you, it's now time for your annual leave from the roster altogether. But Joel doesn't know that and you're hesitant to tell him, feeling like it would be the best for you two to get some distance. But as with all things involving the man, it was hard to keep the distance.
Word Count: 7.2k
Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, illusions to past death, illusions to past trauma, blood, hurtful language, town gossip, rumors, negative feelings, pining, heart of gold joel, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, lots of feelings, slight angst, hurt and comfort, joel miller's hands need their own warning, two (2} instances of joel miller gently touching reader, intentional flirting, unintentional flirting, talk of pregnancy, casual intimacy, urges to kiss joel miller get their own warning, sexual content, masturbation (f and m), yearning, protective joel, tommy is a scheming lil brother and we love him for it, fluff, this is so unbelievably soft, reader is described as smaller than joel (bc c'mon), reader has a commonly used nickname but no assigned name, joel and reader pov
A/N: i'm not really back in wake of some bad comments and confrontational haters, but love y'all ♡
ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi
A knock on your door the next morning caught you bundled up and out in the backyard, the sound echoing throughout your empty house. It was small: a simple one with a larger than average kitchen, a living room, one bathroom across the hall from the bedroom, and a laundry / mudroom with a deep utility sink and a few cabinets of storage. It’s where you kept the tools for the garden, where you washed and prepped everything you managed to grow before moving it into the kitchen space. But you were on the modest back porch, a cup of steaming coffee cooling in the early morning air as you looked out at the trees that took up a good chunk of the large area.
Dragging your eyes from the one that looked like it was about at the end of its life, a large crack running down through the trunk, you heeded the knock at the early hour. Knowing it could only be one of four people.
“Was worried I woke you for a moment, you sleep okay?” Maria greeted you as she waddled past you and moved into the kitchen. She spied the other cups worth of contents in the coffee maker and sighed in longing. The scent of it heavy in the air, mixed with cinnamon you were apt to put in with the grounds before brewing. But her sigh turned into a delighted hum as she shifted her attention to the cooling pan atop the stove and moved closer to inspect the baked goods settled on it.
“Probably not much better than you, momma. How you feelin’?” You slid a plate to her as she began to pick pieces off from one of the flaky breakfast hand pies you had made. She placed the one she had begun eating along with another before following you to the large table that ran through the middle of the room. Setting it down and pulling out the chair for her, you helped her to lower into it. With a caressing touch to her swollen belly, permission given from her months ago, you began to set up a kettle for some tea.
“Big.” She stuffed a large bite into her mouth, eyes fluttering at the taste of the filling. Crumbs of the flaky crust sticking to the front of her shirt, jacket having been shrugged off. “Olive, these are fantastic. Is there anything in here I shouldn’t be eating?”
“I wouldn’t have let ya get your hands on it if that were the case. Just bacon and onion jam, eggs, a little bit of milk, and a whole bunch of thyme. Nothing too bad.”
“Nothing too bad, my ass. You should totally make these for the mess hall on your next shift.”
Another knock on the front door stole the words from your mouth and you looked to the woman who all of a sudden had great interest in picking the crumbs from where they had fallen.
“Maria, what is this?”
“Can’t I call on a fellow morning bird without ulterior motives?”
“You could, but you didn’t this time around. I don’t get many visitors so I wonder who you- Oh! Good mor-morning, Joel.” Surprise overtook you as you were suddenly face to face with the man over the threshold of your front door. He was bundled up as well, though his hair was wet, slicked back and shining in the early morning sun peeking over the mountains.
“I just figured we could all chat about the Teton route.” Maria’s voice carried from the kitchen. But it didn’t break the stare you could feel as Joel’s eyes took in the apron you had thrown on earlier.
“Mornin’.” He rumbled, a hand reaching out from within his jacket pocket to swipe at your cheek. His touch burned, but you were frozen in place at such a forward action so early in the day. Lips parting as you tried to pull in a breath but you were sure all you managed to do was huff out what air was already in your lungs. “You got a lil flour or somethin’.”
“O-oh, um, thank you.” His hand lingered, the back of his knuckle dragged down your cheek and then the finger curled around the neckline, tugging slightly. Nerves sparkling as you felt the warmth from his hand so close to your neck, you could only swallow as his eyes finally met yours with a playful grin displaying that damned, endearing dimple normally hidden in his scruff.
“Never seen you so homey before, it’s a good look on you.” His voice was tipped low, just for you and you felt your stomach lurch.  When you didn’t say anything, just continued to stand there caught like a fly in his trap, he chuckled and asked if you were going to let him inside. It was then you realized he had inched closer, crowding you in the doorway, with his hand still around the strap of fabric over your neck.
“Oh! Of cour-course, I’m so sorry. It must be the early hour taking my manners.” But you knew he wouldn’t believe that for a second, he knew you were a morning person. Something you had revealed to him on patrol. Just like he had revealed to you that he took any opportunity to sleep in, apt to hit snooze an embarrassing about of times if the sound even reached him. You had both laughed at the polarizing tendencies, ribbing each other about it throughout the day. It had been a good one, free of the underlying…tension of whatever had shifted when you had pressed your lips to his injuries. Something you would take back if it meant cutting the undercurrent of whatever had befallen your interactions.
“There’s, um, breakfast hand pies and one last serving of coffee,” You spoke as you turned your back on him and went to retrieve your own mug from the porch.
After the shuffle of greetings, of ushering Joel to take a seat at the table. You plated up two of the hand pies and poured the last of the coffee for him, setting it down in front of him with a small smile before fetching the whistling kettle and preparing a cup of tea for Maria who was already a bite into her second pastry.
“Now, the horse you two lost.”
Joel made a surprised sound, mouth biting into one of the pastries on his plate.
“It was my fault.” You rushed out before Joel could even respond around his mouthful. His eyes flicked to you across the table where you had finally taken a seat, watching as you willingly took the blame for the unfortunate event. “I wasn’t quick enough taking down the Infected that were coming at us. Two of them had set their sights on her, with all the noise she was making while another went after Joel on the ground.”
“And there was no use of anything other than the shotgun?”
“That’s correct.”
“Joel, do you agree with her synopsis?”
“Yes. She acted fast, but there was no way Kiana was gonna make it back, she had been freaking out the second they came outta the tree line, most likely would’ve run off.”
“She always was easy to spook, that’s why she was designated as your horse, calmed her down and got her to focus.” It made sense, Joel was a very level headed person, capable of gently focusing someone should their minds or attention wander.
“I wish every incident discussion was this lovely. No arguing, good food, people who don’t want to go around in circles. You two are truly one of the best pairs we have on the roster.” Maria stirred in a bit more honey into her tea, taking a sip as she looked you both over.
A nervous laugh bubbled up from you as you dug into your own pastry, unaware of them sharing a look.
“This is amazing,” Joel offered, reaching for the kitchen towel folded atop the table to clean his hands off. “You should make these your next shift at the mess hall.”
“I just told her that, imagine the buzz they would cause.”
“They’re not all that special.” You muttered, shoulders rising as you felt rather put on the spot.
“This filling, these onions? It had to have taken a lot of concentration to reduce them down so soft but not mushy. Take the credit where it’s due.” Joel hummed his agreement as he reached for his mug.
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“You’re off patrol this week and next, to do your annual thing.” Tommy announced as he sat beside you, his tray thudding against the top of the table, laden down with food from this mornings offerings.
“I can still patrol and get what I have to done.” You didn’t look up from the notebook you were writing in, trying to map out the way you were going to turn the harvest of the olive trees in your backyard into. If you were being honest, patrol twice a week wasn’t so bad with the added allure of Joel Miller. But it would be hard to juggle it paired with the time of year. Every autumn you took out your dirtiest, most ratty pair of overalls and got to work picking the fruit from the trees. Taking your time to sort them, wash them, turn them into oil and pickle some of the others. It was just you, hands aching at the end of the day from spending it all at your kitchen table with various tools. But you wouldn’t trade it for the world.
The kitchen was your happy place. Even after the end of the world. Or maybe in spite of it.
But this year, you didn’t want to miss out on patrol, normally taking the two weeks off to sort everything out and give all your attention to the gift of fruiting trees. Even if…you felt like it would be good for you to get some space from the man you felt in every other thought. The past two weeks had yielded quiet patrols, just the passing of a thermos between hands. You were sure you had overstepped a line by pressing your lips to his face, lost in the moment of adrenaline and want after those Infected had tried to turn you both.
His eyes were heavy on you when he thought you weren’t looking, but searching for what you didn’t have the faintest clue. Perhaps he was thinking of a way to bring it up and let you down gently. Tell you that he hadn’t appreciated your affections that way. Whatever went on behind that handsome, rugged face you hadn’t a clue.
“We both know that’s a mighty lie,” He stuffed an overfull spoon of grits into his mouth, humming around it as he pointed the utensil at you. “Didn’t you say this would be the last year for one of them?”
Sighing, you set the pencil you had been writing with down. Trading it for the cup of coffee in front of you.
“Unfortunately, the trunk spilt when we had those winds come through in February. I’m surprised it bloomed any fruit to be honest.”
“It’s a fighter, like it’s caretaker.”
“Oh hush, tryna flatter me.”
“Don’t you know it.” He winked, cheeky smile growing wider underneath his mustache as his eyes caught sight of something over your shoulder. You were about to turn to see what had him so delighted when a pair of hands placed a tray right next to you. The burly form of Joel huffed as he settled into the seat beside you.
“Mornin’.” He greeted, placing plate of toast in front of you, his hand momentarily brushing against yours before he dug into his own food. You felt heat bloom up your neck and across your cheeks as Tommy feigned a cough to cover up a snicker. Joel leveled an unimpressed stare at the man, an eyebrow cocked and a warning in his eyes. You pretended not to see it, busy slathering a piece of the gifted toast with some butter left out on the tables for the breakfast service.
“Good mornin’, brother.” Tommy lilted, face lit up with something you were hesitant of. Scheming, the man was scheming, up to absolutely no good. And you had a hunch it involved not only you but the man beside you. Taking a bite of the toast, you noticed the way his face twitched before he started whatever he was up to. “How are you today?”
“Fuck off, Tommy.” The older man didn’t even look up from his plate, knowing from years of experience that his brother was aiming a mischievous look his way. “I gotta list a mile long of stuff to do this week and next, don’t have time for whatever else you’ve taken on.”
“That’s a shame,” He took another heaping bite, chewing it thoughtfully as he looked between you both, taking in the way neither of you were willing to look at the other. “Sorry, Olive. Looks like you’ve gotta fell that tree on your own.”
“That’s okay. I’m a big girl, did it the year before last and I’ll do it again this time around.” You downed the last two gulps of your coffee. Gathering up your notebook, you shoved out of your chair and stood, preparing to walk away. But he scrambled, quick on his feet and determined. Joel glanced at you, a parting nod the only indication from him.
“Well, seeing as you’ll be off patrol the next two weeks, that should give you enough time to take care of it.”
“Tommy!” You whirled around on your heel, eyes wide. You hadn’t wanted Joel find out this way, from his trouble making little brother with you right beside him.
“What’s he talkin’ about?” Joel turned with a loaded fork halfway to his mouth. Forgotten in wake of the sudden news. He looked taken off guard, shock coloring his features as he looked to you for answers.
“Didn’t she tell you, brother?” Tommy set his own fork down, tray nearly empty now. “Olive always takes this time of year off to tend to the trees. Harvest and make that lovely oil you see everywhere around town.”
“That’s yours?” His eyes danced around the mess hall, taking in the incriminating glass jars atop every other table. The light green contents revealing the literal fruits of your labor. The hours you would spend hunched over your own kitchen table working away on ensuring everything was perfect. He looked down to the warm plate of food in front of him, the roasted potato hash and scrambled eggs. “You’re the reason the town has cooking oil?”
“Yes, it is.” Feeling pleasure flutter at his impressed tone, you knew your voice had taken on a breathy quality. If Tommy’s growing grin was any indication, his teeth sparkling as he watched the two of you across from him. Joel had turned completely in his chair to face you, while you had pivoted your body in his direction. Both of you undoubtedly drawn to each other even in the most casual of ways.
“What are you gonna do with the wood? Didn’t you burn it and mix the ashes into the soil last time?”
“Yes, I did.” You gripped the notebook tight, fingers aching from the pressure. “It helped to reduce the acidity of the soil and ward off slugs from targeting the blooms once spring came around.”
“Well, uh, I can come by and lend a hand. If you needed it, but I don’t want to intrude if you’ve got it all under control.” Joel ran a wide palm over the back of his head, fingers brushing through the curls as he offered his help in a round about way. Something you suspected Tommy had anticipated. It took you a second to process his words, remembering the feel of his hair tangled around your own fingers. It had been soft despite a days’ worth of travel and an overnight stint atop a dusty mattress. You wondered how he cared for it, what it looked like slicked back fresh from the shower, water dripping from the ends of it and-
“Oh, that’s okay!” You shuffled on your feet, shaking the rather intrusive thoughts and not wanting to burden the man with another task. “You just said you’ve got a lot to do, don’t want to add to it.”
“I could shuffle a few things around, clear up an afternoon to come help ya out.” He insisted, something smoldering in his dark eyes. His tongue ran over his bottom lip as he regarded you carefully, as if he had noticed the lingering gaze on his movement. He shifted to pull that damned little note pad of his own from his back pocket and flipped it open. Looking over the long list penciled on the page.
“No, no, it’s okay, really. You don’t have to do that, Joel.” You waved your own notebook at him, hoping he realized you kind of wanted the space from him. Kind of needed it, actually. To get the image of his softened face out of your head and the ability to look at him without feeling a jolt of desire strike through your body. Space would probably be good, would allow you to reign everything in and be better equipped to ride alongside him once again. The lines had begun to blur and they needed to be defined.
“It’s no problem, I can-“
“It’s really okay, I can handle it. But uh- th-thanks for the offer.” You scurried away before he could add your name to the list among his other tasks. “More important stuff to tend to than a me-measly tree.”
“I really don’t’-“
“I’ve got it.” You called over your shoulder, leaving the two men to their breakfast.
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The second you were walking through the door, Joel rounded on the younger man. The shit-eating smirk was securely in place among his brother’s features across the table. Irking Joel further.
“Shut up.”
“Oh brother, you got it bad.”
“Shut up, Tommy.”
“C’mon, she could really use the help. It’s just her.”
“No one offers to pitch in? The other women with personal gardens all help each other out.”
“It’s the age gap. Olive’s about a decade or so younger than them.”
Joel contemplated his brother’s words, thinking back on the thinly veiled disdain Marsha had voiced to him the last time he had been tending to the woman’s home. He knew you were younger, but he hadn’t anticipated it causing any problems with the rest of the settlements occupants just how it wasn’t the cause of any between you and him. At least, not any real problems. Age was just a number nowadays, if you were alive, you were alive. If you weren’t well, you weren’t. Friendships and connections blooming between people regardless of age and backgrounds in abundance as people clung to what they could in order to survive.
“Does anybody ever…talk about her to you?”
Shifting from annoying little brother to something more serious, Tommy looked over his brother as he chewed the bite he had just taken.
“What do you mean?”
“Marsha seemed to insinuate that Olive is common topic of discussion.”
“Marsha doesn’t like Olive. Never has.” Tommy scowled, stabbing at a chunk of potato rather harshly.
“Does it have to do with the patrol you won’t tell me about?”
“…yeah.” Tommy was suddenly very interested in the rest of his food, ignoring the look he could feel Joel pinning him with from across the table.
“Tommy.”
“Her old patrol partner was someone she showed up with, when we first brought her here. He and Marsha’s daughter got on quickly, were engaged within a year and planning on havin’ a kid or two.”
Joel was silent as he picked at his food. Marsha’s daughter, Millie, didn’t have any kids or a husband that he knew of. The two women sharing a home close to his.
“They blame her for what happened.”
“What did happen?”
“Joel, you’ve gotta ask your girl that. It’s not my place to give details.”
“She’s not my girl.”
“But you want her to be, c’mon, I can see it plain as day.”
“We are not talking about this.”
“I think she likes you back. But it’s hard to tell since she doesn’t get a lot of interaction around town aside from when she’s trading or cookin’.”
“She don’t like me like that. We’re just…friendly.”
It wasn’t friendly the way Joel took advantage of any reason to touch you. From soothing minor injuries, to brushing his fingers over yours as he passed you something, to brushing things you tended to smear along your cheek. Just to hear the hitch of your breath and to witness the way your eyes widened. It wasn’t friendly the way you were the last thing he thought of at night and the first thing he thought of when he woke up. It wasn’t friendly the way his gaze lingered on you while out on patrol or when he caught sight of you around town.
It wasn’t friendly the way he spent hours in his workspace sketching out designs and carving into wood in the hopes that you would enjoy what he was creating.
It wasn’t friendly the way he didn’t engage with you for worry of making you nervous, like he noticed he had begun to do. Stuttering every other word around him and others in a habit he couldn’t figure out was his fault or something you were just prone to do. It wasn’t friendly how he wanted to see if it was just him that caused it, wanted to see how quickly words would fail you completely if he were to focus his attention on you in a more than friendly way…
But his brother didn’t know anything about that.
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Never one to miss out on the chance for a slow morning, you allowed yourself to wake up naturally.
The sun was just beginning its descent from the highest point in the sky, peeking in through the drawn blinds of your bedroom.
Your body was warm underneath the covers, sleep making your mind take the sensation and let it influence your dreams.
A large body hovered over you, looming like the mountains around the settlement. Protective, a sight to behold at any time of day, as steady as the day turns to night. But the body was so much closer, pressing your back down into the mattress, making your head spin with the heady feel of it.
Thump, thump, thump.
Heart beating hard as pleasure coursed through your veins, brought to life by the feeling of fingers smoothing over your skin. Trailing down over your belly button and through course hair to find your slick folds. Delving between them, parting them, caressing over your fluttering core and then in, producing an obscene sound as they filled you up. Another set of fingers gentle nudging that little bundle of nerves to light your body up even further, heat encompassing you, suffocating you as they quickened their pace.
Thump, thump, thump.
Your heartbeat was harsh in your ears, roaring loud and with a jolt, you realized it wasn’t your heart. It was the sound of someone knocking on your front door.
Eyes flying open, the phantom sensations of being pinned down, of thick fingers caressing the most intimate parts of your body, of the rasped-out nickname in a voice that wasn’t real were ripped from you. You were alone in your bed, your hands the only ones bringing you pleasure.
“Olive?” The faint call of that deep voice your mind had tried to convince you was whispering sweet nothings in your ear was down the hall and on the other side of your front door.
What was Joel Miller doing calling on you in the middle of the day, effectively splashing a bucket of cold water over you as you realized you had been fantasizing about him as you touched yourself.
Embarrassment and guilt squashed the pleasure that had been consuming you, lingering tingles making it hard to clear the fog of your sleep hazed mind. Throwing on the robe hanging on the back of your bedroom door, you took a deep breath to steady yourself before approaching the door he knocked on again.
He must’ve been preparing to walk off when you swung your door open, his back to you and a hand on rubbing on the back of his neck. He turned back at the sound, eyes taking in the disheveled form you were sure you made in your doorway. It was the afternoon, and here you were in a robe and hardly anything else, being pulled from your bed.
“Oh, hey- you were sleeping.” His eyes quickly averted, a hand waving at you as a blush crept up along the apples of his cheeks. You wondered what had him so flustered, his hands clenching and unclenching just below the sleeves of his jacket.
“I should’ve been up already, it’s okay.” You said quietly, taking in the bulk of him on your small stoop. It was a little disorienting, mind imagining him and now being faced with him so close. “D-did you need-“
“Was coming by to see if you needed any help with taking down that tree Tommy mentioned.”
You fell silent at the way he cut you off, his words low like your own, as if he was frustrated.
“Cause if you did all you had to do was ask.”
“I-I didn’t want to add to your list, that little notepad is always so full of-“
“I offered too and you said no. But you’re not even doing what you took the time off for.”
“Excuse me?” You leaned back from him, worry and your own annoyance flaring. Just because you took one morning to yourself didn’t mean you were shirking your responsibilities. His words hitting too close to the wound that everyone else’s had dug close to your heart.
“You take the time off every year, which you didn’t tell me about. Tommy blurted it out to get some sort of satisfaction out of your miscommunication and you’re not even taking care of the trees.”
“Joel-“
“You know what, just, never mind. I’m heading around back to take care of it for you. Go back to bed.”
And then he was stomping down the steps and rounding the side of your house. The gate creaking open to signal his entrance to your backyard.
“Well, excuse the fuck outta me, Mr. Miller.” You mumbled as you shut the front door and moved back to the bedroom. Dressing in a ratty pair of jeans and a long-stained t-shirt in a rush. Putting up your hair as you walked into the back room to retrieve the axe he would need for the work he took it upon himself to do.
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It was hard not to stare, your eyes glued to the man as he expertly wielded the axe and chopped down the damaged olive tree. He had shrugged off his flannel after trimming it of the few branches that stretched from the trunk, leaving him in just the t-shirt he donned underneath. A crisp white that displayed the sweat on the small of his back and between his broad shoulders. A crisp white that displayed the bulge of his biceps as he worked. A crisp white that fell just over his waist and billowed up to catch on the spiral top of his notepad peeking out from his back pocket. A crip white that now displayed his rather toned backside to you free from obstruction…
Shaking your head, you continued to pick the fruit from the others. There were three rows of about ten trees, the one you were worried about in the middle of it all. Your movements made you feel like you were slowly circling around him, honing in on the man taking out whatever frustrations he had on the plant. Until everything was gathered, and you retired back inside as the sun beat down what little warmth it still had this late in the season.
The fruit was already washed in the utility sink, resting in strainers set over ratty towels to dry atop the long table in the middle of the room. A record played in the living room, soft guitar and brass filling the space.
Sighing, you poured yourself a few fingers of whisky and then a few into a second glass as you heard the thud of the axe being set against the wall in the back room and steps heading your way.
“Joel, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t know how.” You offered one of the glasses to him, taking in the way he swiped at his sweating forehead with the back of his arm.
“I know…I’m-I shouldn’t have come at you like that. I’m sorry too.” His fingers brushed yours as he took the peace offering. But he didn’t drink until you lifted your own glass and clinked it to his. “Just…wanted there to be a reason why you weren’t by my side for a little bit.”
Stepping forward to run a hand down from his shoulder to elbow in a comforting move, you motioned him to follow you.
Through the hours of the afternoon and into the evening, you explained the difference between the colors of the fruit. The flavor profiles of each, of how you always sorted even portions of the harvest out for oil, for pickling, for the raw fruit to be shared with the town. You walked him through the process of turning a small batch into a paste, straining it over and over again to produce the oil. Two pairs of hands slick with it as he helped you after he had asked how you managed to do it.
He had asked of your knowledge, prompting you to admit that it was all learned since arriving here and being assigned to the house with the trees in the backyard. That it hadn’t been something you carried with you beforehand. You asked after his woodworking, how it had turned into crafting small figurines.
And he answered much the same as you. Learned skills to help deal with and adapt to the slower way of life Jackson allowed you both to lead.
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“You left one on the table.” His voice was right behind you, having followed you into the backroom. You turned to look at him over your shoulder before going back to placing the jars in your hand into a battered plastic crate. One was for the pickled and general olives, while another was for the oil you would make once the distraction of Joel Miller was gone from your kitchen. The only evidence of such from today’s activities in his hand.
“Oh, that one’s for you.”
“I couldn’t, you need it for trade. Everythin’ helps.”
“I insist, it’ll be good to have in your kitchen.”
“It’s just gonna sit there on the counter beside the stove.”
“Well, take it. Just in case.” You whispered. Noticing how close he had gotten in an attempt to hand the jar to you. He was close enough to smell the way the olive leaves had permeated his clothing. The perfume of the freshly chopped wood stained his skin in a heady way. You felt the counter dig into your hips, having unconsciously backed into it beside the deep sink.
“In case of what, sweetheart?” He lowered his voice to a raspy whisper, tongue peeking between his lips as he took in the way you had a smudge of dirt under your eye in the warm light of your kitchen bleeding into the backroom. His gaze snapped to his hand as you bravely tangled your fingers with his own. Feeling your lips curl into a playful smile, you leaned up and whispered into his ear. 
“The food critic decides to play personal chef.”
Oh, he liked that. If the widening of his pupils was any indication, the way his breath caught in his throat and he swallowed as he pulled back a little to look over your face.
He leaned in to press a cautious kiss to your cheek, knowing there was no bruise or cut to disguise his move as anything other than the blatant want for it. The soft scratch of his mustache lighting you up.
Your breath fanned out across his face, skin prickling along his body at the warmth of it bouncing back to you. A small huff the only noise coming from you. His eyes flicked up to capture yours, and you felt your heart lurch. He was so handsome, his lips looked so plush and pink this close. There was no way he could’ve missed the way you had glanced down at them, how you were thinking of feeling them pressed to your skin in other places, of the way you pulled your own bottom one between your teeth at the thought.
He leaned in, sharing breath with you, his nose brushing against yours before-
The needle of the record player scratching across vinyl startled you both, jolting in response to the harsh noise breaking the bubble of tension surrounding you both. Your hands had flown up to grip his shoulders tight while his arms had wrapped around your back and pulled you to him. Heart thundering for a completely different reason now, you cast your eyes over his shoulder toward to the record player.
With nervous laughter you stepped away from the man and set about lifting it from the still spinning record. His eyes are on you as you replace the record with another, setting it up to play and then turning back around to him. Your heart still thumping in your chest as you watch him hold tight to the jar in his hand and dip his head to you in a departing bow.
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He made sure it was well into the evening before enlisting Tommy’s help. The forlorn way you had looked at the pieces of the tree once it was no longer standing proud among the others had stirred an idea in his mind. He was going to take the thickest part of the trunk, because he wasn’t stealing it away. No. He was going to return it to you once he had cut it into slabs and let it dry. He was going to return it to you in the form of a cutting board, crafted from the beloved trees in your care and in honor of the namesake you’d adapted.
But it had to be perfect. He would practice on other planks and cuts of wood until he was able to craft one that would be good enough for you. Setting his mind and heart on the endeavor.
Once he was back home with the trunk set in room set up as his workspace, stepping out of the shower and collapsing into the bed, he let a lazy smile overtake him.
He may be tired, exhausted beyond his limits. But he wouldn’t have traded his afternoon with you for all the restful sleep in the world.
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He couldn’t get the feeling of your lips against his skin out of his mind. The gentle pressure of them grazing over his injuries, the gentle pressure against the patch in his beard he had never been fond of until that moment.
“Fuck,” He groaned out, palm tight around his aching cock. He had woken up thinking of your lips on more of his body, trailing over his skin in sucking kisses, tongue laving at every inch. He had been leaking and hard, his hand around himself before he had even come to complete consciousness.
The very real image of you stood in your doorway clad in nothing but your robe, the way the swell of your breasts was visible with the way you must’ve thrown it on to answer his knocking. The way your eyes were cloudy, slowly clearing and your face slightly flushed, as if you had just been- he groaned deep from within his chest. It had looked like you had just been deep in the throes of pleasure, body overwhelmed with it and torn away by his calling on you. Hair mused and breath a little too quick, he wondered what you sounded like. Would you whimper softly or moan out loudly, would you be shy and cover your face with your arms or would you scramble for any purchase as it raced through your body, swelling up to consume you.
He pumped his hand slowly now, reveling in the feeling stirring low in his gut. The strikes of pleasure moving through him as he recalled the way you had felt against him as you both rode back on your horse.
The way your hip had felt in his hands as he had tried to steady himself. His mind taking the thought and running with it, the imagining the way he would grip you from behind. You down on your hands and knees, legs parted to make room for him to fit between them, thrust against you as deep as he could, your keening-
He choked on his own breath as the sheer force of his release hit him, sudden and overwhelming. Spurts of pearlescent cum coating his hand and dripping over his knuckles.
Euphoria filling him up with satisfaction, his body humming with it until the guilt slammed into him.
He just fucked his fist to the thought of you. His patrol partner. His…friend. The woman he couldn’t get out of his mind even if his life depended on it.
Catching his breath, he looked out the window across from his bed. Stars glittering at him through the curtains as if they know all the dirty things that had just run through his mind, sharing in his secrets.
The only small blessing of his complete lack of self-control and oversight is that he doesn’t have to ride alongside you today on patrol.
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“I’ve got the first batch of the season,” You announced as you walked through the doors of the small makeshift market. It was right along the main street, a few fronts down from the mess hall and the Tipsy Bison.
“Oh, lovely!” The man at the back counter praised, clearing a space atop it for you to put down the delivery.
“Marsha.” You nodded toward her in greeting, uncomfortable with the way her eyes had followed you through the few aisles after letting the man go over the contents of the crate. Another nod to her daughter, standing right beside her with a small wicker basket full of root vegetables. “I’ve got a jar in there for you, with the garlic you managed to salvage from the garden.”
She didn’t say anything, looking for all the world like her voice had been stolen from her. A small nudge from her daughter jostled her and she seemed to find it.
“Thank you, Olive. That was…very sweet of you to think of me.”
“Of course, anything to be of help.”
“Yes, of course.” She repeated your words, trailing off as she noticed a figure across the street. Her eyes tracked their movement but when you turned to see what had caught her attention there was no one there. Suddenly she was speaking your actual name and it roused your nerves to life. “You…do so much for the town, I just wanted you to know that we all appreciate the time you take each year to handle the harvest.”
“O-oh, well, um, thank you, Marsha. That’s very k-kind of you to say.”
“Momma,” Millie whispered, taking ahold of the older woman’s arm. Something in her voice you couldn’t quite get a read on. Taking that as your queue to cut off the rather awkward interaction, you waved at them and began to head back up to the counter to collect the items you had requested in exchange for the crate of jars. Your ears were strained, trying to catch the hushed words the women shared behind your back. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I realized how…unfairly we speak about her. Someone convinced me to apologize to her.”
“She doesn’t deserve apologies, she’s the reason-“
“Millie, we need to work on moving past that. It’s been five years now. We can all live alongside each other with the understanding of what happened.”
“No, momma, you may be ready to forgive her but I’m not. She got my Aiden and I’m not going to let her drag down Joel too.”
“He was the one who told me to be nicer to her, just trying to appease the lovely man.”
Any good feelings of a successful harvest and two weeks of working countless hours to jar, pickle, and transform the fruit from your trees vanished. The awkward yet positive sentiment from one of your more…complicated social connections going down with it at Millie’s angered words. You tried to muster up a smile for the man at the counter, taking the crate back from him with the trade items but you weren’t sure if you were able to. Not turning to look at the women, you exited the shop and made your way straight back home despite the list of errands in your pocket.
Of course Joel had caught wind of the way people spoke of you.
Heard it from Marsha herself, the source of all your troubles despite having done everything in your power to counteract the bad you had brought down on the town with your incompetence. He had put his own reputation at stake by sticking up for you and you only hoped it didn’t affect the way he was received. He was so important to the town, achieving far more than you in what he provided and brought in his skill set.
You didn’t want him to feel even a fraction of what you did as you navigated life here in the settlement. The pitying looks cast your way, the whispered words of what people felt entitled enough to voice, the way you seemed to only be good for one thing and it was the crop in the backyard of the house you had been assigned by pure circumstance.
The crate thudded atop the table where you thrust it harshly, frustration controlling your movements as you moved through the small house back to your room. Shucking off and resisting the urge to hurl your boots toward the closet you sighed as you felt tears prickle your eyes. They rolled hot down your cheeks as you curled up in the covers and gave up on what was supposed to be a good day.
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swiftispunk · 5 months
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creep it real! | joel miller x f!reader
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summary: a masked angel. a rugged cowboy. you're the answer to joel's prayers...until he realizes who you are.
pairing: dbf!joel miller x f!reader rating: 18+ minors dni word count: 9.8k warnings etc: [NO OUTBREAK] smut, age gap (20s/50s), dbf!joel comes with his own warning, a bad case of hidden identity leading to what one could maybe call dubcon*, semi-public sex, just a smidgen of degradation (joel calls reader a slut), hints of mean!joel, brief daddy kink, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (we're living in a make believe world in this one, folks), mirror sex, creampie, use of a gag, one (1) pussy slap, spit in places it doesn't need to be, reader has hair and wears make up, hair pulling, spanking, dirty talk, pet names, alcohol, reader's family celebrates halloween, allusions to past parental trauma. no use of y/n. *reader deceives joel by concealing her identity up to the point of kissing. consent is knowingly given for everything thereafter.
a/n: for mimi @mrsquill, who gave me this idea and for being the biggest dbf!joel whore i know. happy belated birthday, angel. also thank you to @joelscruff for accidentally beta'ing this.
my kofi | updates blog: @swiftispunkupdates
It's cooler than it should be.
The end of October has brought with it a chill you don't recall from your years growing up in Texas. Or maybe it's just been too long since you've been home.
You stare yourself down the mirror of your vanity. The light blue wood of it is faded with time, sticky drawers barren save for the remnants of memories from days gone by; letters from now-dead grandparents, Polaroids with now-lost friends, empty tubes of now-out-of-fashion lipstick shades.
Everything around your reflection is the same as it was when you'd left this place five years ago, a frame of youthful innocence. The person staring back at you, however, is anything but innocent, even if she is donning the wings of an angel.
No. Surrounded by the leftovers from your childhood, the angel in the mirror is all woman.
And she looks good.
A white, boned corset hugs the curves of your upper body, pushing your tits up high on your chest and accentuating the slopes of your waist. The strapless sweetheart neckline shows off your collarbones deliciously, the long line of your neck accented by a thin, white choker. A flowing satin skirt fans out over your hips, cutting off at the midpoint of your thigh, just a hint of skin showing between the hem and the lace edge of your white thigh-high stockings.
You adjust the ribbony straps that hold the feathered, white wings in place over your shoulders, fan your hair out and tousle it slightly, testing out your very best smile before letting it fall, satisfied.
You debate whether or not to even wear the stupid mask. Gaudy and ornate, you have to admit it matches the rest of your costume beautifully, with silver gems glued to one side and a sheer, white veil that you know will conceal most of your face. Perfect for the masquerade bar crawl your high school friends are dragging you to later this evening. A bit much for your father's annual Halloween Bash you feel obligated to attend first.
Resignedly, you slip it on - practice that smile again. It's the only part of your face still visible.
Just one piece remains, sitting on the vanity, white and dainty and looking up at you somewhat menacingly. You slip the garter over your leg and wedge it high up on your thigh, concealed under the flouncy fabric of your skirt like a secret.
You take one last look at the obnoxious cleavage spilling out over the edge of the corset and decide, at least for now, to opt for modesty. You carefully remove your wings and follow the scent of naphthalene to your closet, fish out an old cardigan and throw it over your exposed shoulders. A relic from another life, it's a few sizes too small, fuzzy and a shade of ivory that doesn't quite match the perfect white of the skirt. The sleeves hit just below your elbows and the fabric clings a little too tightly to your form but it's better than the alternative.
Pearlescent buttons line its front, and you seal them right to the top, so only a hairsbreadth of flesh is poking out below the silver cross at the centre of the choker.
Better.
You slip your wings back over your arms, smooth out the straps and finally leave the woman in the mirror behind.
-
Creep it real!
The words line the banner that hangs above your father's front door, just one of many cheesy puns and hokey decorations that litter the main floor of his home.
It's too fucking much. It's always too fucking much. Your dad's favourite holiday for as long as you can remember, Halloween is always a bit of a production.
You help string cotton cobwebs from the ceilings and stick cartoonish bats to the wood-panelled walls. Your mother, dressed as the perfect Bride of Frankenstein, makes punch and fills bowls with chips and candy while your father, dressed as her perfect monster, puts the finishing touches on the lawn display, all gravestones and skeletons and intricately carved jack-o-lanterns. You watch him through the front window with a dubious smile as he gets the smoke machine going. Easily his most prized possession, it had been a lucky find at a yard sale from a neighbour who'd once worked in set direction.
It's funny how, after all these years, your parents haven't changed a bit. It's also funny how seemingly easy it is for them to pretend you hadn't left on bad terms.
"Thanks for helping out, kiddo," your dad's saying as he makes his way back inside, snatching a black plastic spider from your hand and reaching up over your head to the corner of the window pane, lodging it into place in a tangle of cotton. "Nice to have you home."
You give him your best smile, that one you'd practiced so much it probably looks as phony as it feels.
"It's nice to be back," you tell him even though it's a lie. "Thanks for putting me up."
He frowns. "We're not putting you up; this is your home."
It's a nice sentiment but it's not really true. This hasn't been your home in years and you've been more than content to keep it that way. Even now, you've got no plans to stay beyond this weekend, already bored and tired of the life you'd left behind.
"I know it is, Dad, sorry," you amend for his benefit.
"You're a good sport stickin' around for the party, too," he adds.
"Sure," you shrug, although you're selfishly much more interested in getting to the bar and finding someone who will hopefully make it so you don't have to spend the night at your parent's house.
"I think some folks'll be surprised to see you," he goes on. "Dropped in so last minute, I didn't get the chance to tell anyone you'd be home."
Yeah - you know. It had been a somewhat intentional move on your part, knowing all too well how your parents would make a thing out of your return. Plus, you hadn't really planned to be here, either; the timing had just worked out as you'd happened to be passing through the Austin for work. It had felt almost wrong not to stop in for a few days. Try to put appearances and make nice.
"It's fine, I probably won't hang out too long anyway." Best not to get his hopes up.
He grins warmly, tells you to stay as long as you want, and then your conversation is abruptly cut off by your mother blasting 'Monster Mash' through the living room speakers.
-
Twilight fades into dusk fades into night and the party is in full swing.
The sound of music and a cacophony of voices fills the air, clinking beer bottles and thrumming bass echoing loudly in your ears where you stand against a wall, mostly keeping to yourself unless otherwise spoken to. The living room is dimly lit by a superfluous display of electronic tea lights, casting an orange glow over the crowd of faces that you assume would be familiar if they weren't obscured by smatterings of fake blood, glitter and silicone.
One figure stands out among the throng though, perhaps because he doesn't seem to have put much effort into his costume at all. The dark plaid that stretches across the expanse of his back unleashes a flood of memories (or more accurately, a distant collage of schoolgirl fantasies). You recognize him beyond a doubt, even before he turns to the side and reveals that unmistakable hooked nose and strong jaw, patchy facial hair that's a little greyer now than it was when you used to daydream about how it would feel brushing against your cheek.
Joel Miller.
Your father's oldest friend from down the road, he's broader than you remember him, thicker in the arms and midsection, the latter especially noticeable in the way his belly strains over the waistband of his jeans, confined by plaid tucked into well-worn denim, all accented by an ostentatious belt buckle. His face is partially cast in shadow by the off-white cowboy hat he's wearing, the ensemble capped off by a faded red bandana tied clumsily around his wide neck.
And fuck, if it doesn't suit him. There's something almost natural about the way he tips his hat at passing partygoers, the way he leans against the wall opposite you and hooks a thumb over the massive belt buckle, the engraved metal shining faintly in the low light. Gripping the neck of a beer bottle with his other hand, he's a man plucked straight from a Marlboro ad, even more beautiful now than the last time you saw him - years ago now.
Your heart nearly stops when his eyes suddenly flit upwards and catch yours across the room. He smirks, a lop-sided, curious thing and it's only then you realize you're fucking staring.
You avert your eyes, scan the crowd without seeing anything, only to land your gaze on him again. He hasn't looked away. You stiffen where you stand, hold his stare for a second too long. You swallow harshly and his smile widens.
Christ, you need a drink. Your heart's pounding as if there's anything more to that smile than an old family friend politely recognizing his best friend's daughter.
But then his eyes rake over your front, not-so-subtly fixating on the skin above your stockings. He tilts his head to the side, and if you didn't know any better, you'd think he were assessing you. Even from here, under the low glow of synthetic candlelight, you see a muscle in his jaw click, plush lips pursing as his dark eyes trail back up your chest, landing on your masked face before he brings his beer bottle back up to his mouth and takes a long pull. His eyes don't leave your face.
Okay, maybe you're not imagining it. Sweet, reserved, respectful Joel (a single dad if your memory serves) is definitely eye-fucking you from across the room right now. In your father's home. Like he doesn't care at all that he once knew you as a child.
You resist the urge to pinch yourself.
Instead, you decide to test the waters. Bite your lip and flit your gaze to his mouth, watch him as you turn towards the kitchen and catch the moment he decides to follow.
Not imagining it.
It's lighter in the kitchen, the sound of the party dulled but not entirely silenced beyond the wall. Safer, private.
You feign nonchalance, crouching to retrieve a beer from the fridge, blissfully aware that the boots you hear against the linoleum a moment later belong to Joel without needing to look up and see for yourself.
Sure enough -
"S'a nice costume," a gruff says from behind you. You jolt upright, beer in hand, to face the source of the sound. And there's the Marlboro man in all his glory, standing in the doorway of the kitchen with a playful glint in his eye and a devilish smile plastered to his face.
You grin, cheeks warming at the way he looks you over in the light of the kitchen, so much brighter here than in the living room, staring at your chest as though he could see right through the thin fabric of your cardigan.
You work to play it cool, even as your skin burns under the weight of his stare.
"You think?"
You twist to the side, giving him a better view of the entire ensemble, wings and all. You figure there's no need for subtly at this point; wrong or right, the way he's looking at you now tells you he hasn't just followed you into the kitchen for a quick hello.
"Yeah, I do," he says, inching further into the room. "Go on, let me see all of it."
Jesus. Joel's apparently given up on subtly too. You suppose it could be interpreted as harmless. But then you spin for him, all the way around so the soft fabric of your skirt flutters around your thighs. You come to a stop facing him, watch his smile fade to something darker when you daringly lift the hem of your skirt to reveal the garter with a smirk.
And if there was going to be a moment for him to decide that you'd taken things too far, that would be it. But he doesn't. Instead, he stalks even closer, eyes fixed on the edge of your skirt, almost entranced in the way he shakes his head.
"So fuckin' sexy," he marvels quietly.
"Oh my god."
The words escape you almost like a laugh because there's just no fucking way. Every fantasy you've ever had is being brought to life before your eyes. A moment imagined in a thousand different ways. Joel Miller finally seeing you as an object of desire. Joel Miller undeniably wanting you.
He instantly flushes at your reaction, setting his empty beer bottle down on the counter and removing his hat to run a nervous hand through his hair. And it's the first sign you see of the Joel you think you know - polite, charming. Disarmingly good-mannered.
"Sorry, comin' on a bit strong, I guess," he chuckles. He holds his hat to his chest and reaches his other hand between your bodies. You stare at it in confusion. "I'm Joel. What's your name, sweetheart?"
"Oh."
Another involuntary reaction, whispered and soft as realization smooths across your features.
No wonder he's being so callous with his advances; Joel doesn't know who you fucking are.
Faced with a dilemma, you very quickly work through your options. You know what you should do, what the morally right decision is. You should be honest, tell him your name, remove your mask. Watch him grapple with embarrassment and politely leave you to it. You can't imagine he'd carry on with you if he had any idea you were his friend's daughter.
But then again...he already wants you. Right? And you wholeheartedly want him. So what if he doesn't know who you are? Maybe part of you likes it that way. You're not the same person you were the last time he saw you anyway.
You will tell him the truth, you decide. Just...not yet.
You take his hand in yours and shake.
"Tonight, cowboy, you can just call me Angel."
Joel grins, cocks his eyebrows and chuckles. "Oh yeah?"
You don't get a chance to respond because then he's bringing your hand up to his lips to press a soft kiss against your knuckles and the words die on your tongue, your mind temporarily going blank at the feeling of his scruff scratching at the back of your hand and his dark gaze peering up at you from under his lashes.
"Alright, then Angel."
No. You're definitely not telling him the truth yet.
He lets your hand fall and puts his hat back on before leaning an elbow casually against the kitchen counter. The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up, revealing thick forearms and tan skin. Unconsciously, you gravitate closer.
"S'quite the party, huh?" he grins, cocking his chin in the direction of the music and orange light emanating from just around the corner.
You shrug. "It's fine. I'm not staying long. Going out to a club soon."
You don't miss the way his smiles falters just the slightest bit.
"You live in the neighbourhood?" he asks. "Don't think I've seen ya around before."
"Haven't you?"
"Woulda remembered, I reckon."
You have to bite back a laugh at that.
"Well, I used to live around here, but I moved away a few years back," you shrug. It's technically not a lie.
"But you're back in town," he says. States it. Not a question.
"For now."
Joel smirks, drags his eyes over you again, contemplative. Still, no sign of recognition passes over his features, only unbridled interest that makes your cheeks burn and your mouth water.
"What made you leave?" he wonders after a moment of charged silence, his wandering gaze finally landing on the one part of your face he can see.
Now there's a loaded question. Your eyebrows shoot up your forehead as you consider how best to answer him, attempting to bide yourself some time as you ease your body closer to his with a pointed sway of your hips.
"You know, I don't really like to think about the past," you land on and right now it couldn't be more true.
Joel chuckles, brows knitting together somewhat dubiously at the response. Thankfully, he doesn't push it.
"What are you drinkin', Angel?" he asks, his eyes darting down to the beer bottle in your hand.
"Oh - beer," you tell him. "You want one?"
"Won't say no to ya," he smiles.
You turn back to the fridge, bending at the hip rather than crouching this time, fully aware of the view you're offering him. If he reacts, you don't hear it, but when you face him again, beer in hand, his arms are crossed over his chest and his cheeks are painted a faint shade of pink.
Good.
You extend one of the bottles out to him, eyes fixed on the way his biceps strain against the fabric of his shirt. His fingers ghost against yours when he takes the bottle from your hand and it shoots an electric tingle down your spine.
"Bottle opener's in there," you tell him, nodding towards the drawer he's currently leaning against. He follows your gaze and seems to consider moving for a moment. Then he grins.
"I got it," he says, placing his own bottle on the counter. Your brows furrow and then your jaw drops as Joel then begins to fiddle with his belt buckle, undoing the notches so it hangs loose around his waist.
Your pulse quickens and you nervously look over your shoulder, suddenly terrified of someone walking in on you.
"S'alright," Joel assures you, redrawing your attention. When you turn back to him you he's holding a hand out to you. "Let me see."
He nods towards the bottle and you silently hand it to him, entranced. Then you watch as he deftly hooks the edge of the silver buckle under the lip of the bottle cap. He flicks his wrist upwards and with a sizzling pop, the cap goes flying, landing with a quiet clang onto the tiled floor.
"Wow," you murmur, genuinely impressed and suddenly unable to tear your eyes away from his fucking crotch.
Joel seems to notice the response, taking you by surprise as he places the bottle on the counter and wraps his fingers around your wrist, gently pulling you into him. Your bodies don't touch but you can feel the heat radiating off him from here, the static buzz that fills the remaining space between you.
"Old party trick," he jokes, voice low.
You find yourself peering towards the kitchen door again. Joel notices that too.
"Hey," he murmurs, catching a finger on your chin to turn your face back in his direction. You swallow against the nerves suddenly bubbling up in your throat.
"S'this alright?" he asks as he traces his fingers up your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You nod.
"Yeah," you decide, throwing caution to the wind and pressing your hips forward till you feel the hard metal of his loosened belt buckle jutting into your stomach.
He hums, a sound deep in his chest, and it's all you can do just to stand there as he curiously runs his fingers over your shoulder, smirking as he fiddles with the feathers of your wings and inspects the costume up close, dark brown eyes scaling hungrily up and down your body. His hand moves downward then, over the fabric of your cardigan, thinly veiling the bones of the corset beneath and you wonder if he can feel them, if he knows what you're hiding when he rests his palm against your waist and pulls you in just that little bit closer.
His gaze lands on your parted lips and there's a moment of heated anticipation where you're certain he's going to kiss you, the smell of him so close and inviting.
"No halo?" he whispers instead, cocking his eyebrows and lifting his gaze to the top of your head. "Shouldn't a good little angel have a halo?"
Oh, fuck.
"Well, maybe I'm not such a good little angel," you purr, only the hint of a shake in your voice as you widen your eyes and bat your lashes for good measure. You swear you hear his breath stutter before he's shaking his head in near-disbelief. You smirk; it's exactly the reaction you'd been hoping for.
"Anyway, the halo felt like overkill," you shrug.
Joel scoffs, glancing down to grab at the fabric of your skirt. Your brain short-circuits as he hikes it up your leg, revealing the white lace garter sat high on your thigh.
"And this?" he questions darkly. "You're tellin' me this ain't overkill?"
You laugh even though it's not funny, even though arousal is steadily pooling at your core and coursing through your burning veins.
"Well, at least I put some effort in," you attempt to tease him lightly, answering the unrelenting grip he has on your skirt with a tug at the fabric of his shirt, fisting the plaid at his sides and trying not to think too hard about the fact that it's first time you've ever touched Joel Miller like this. That you're only here because of a shameful lie. "Bet you just had all this lying around the house, right, cowboy?"
Joel's lips twitch and he watches in wonder as you reach up and grab the cowboy hat off his head, planting it atop yours with a wink. Joel snakes a hand behind you to tip the rim back, showing him more of your masked face as you stare up at him expectantly.
"Now that's pretty," he marvels softly and then he's entwining a hand around the back of your neck and leaning in closer and there's no mistaking it now; he's going to kiss you and you want so badly to kiss him back but -
"Not here," you stop him with a firm hand on his chest. You don't know what the fuck you're doing, but it can't happen in your parent's kitchen. You give him his hat back and he groans as he yanks you in closer when you try to pull back.
"What exactly are we doin', honey?"
"Just come with me?" you suggest breathlessly, untangling yourself from his grasp and grabbing him by the hand. He doesn't argue, just nods and lets you lead him out of the kitchen. You cautiously watch your back, make sure no one sees you dragging Joel Miller up the carpeted stairs and into the concealed darkness of a second-floor hallway.
There's a beat as you size each other up, eyes adjusting to the lack of light. Then Joel is crowding you against the wall, his gaze flitting over your masked face curiously.
You know in that moment the question he's asking. And you know in that moment what your answer should be. Take off the mask. Tell him the truth. Watch him walk away.
But instead, you hook your fingers into his belt loops and tug him into your body, crane your neck upwards and whisper, "Kiss me," praying to the heavens above you'll be forgiven for this.
You'll tell him. You'll tell him.
But right now you just want to kiss him.
Joel exhales sharply, hums a quiet assertion and then he's crashing his mouth into yours. Your head hits the glass of a framed photo behind you, a sting quickly remedied by the feel of his lips moving on yours, his hands cupping the sides of your face with a tenderness you wouldn't have expected.
His kiss is far from tender though, and for that, you're grateful. It's rushed and breathy, toothsome when his tongue invades the space between your lips. He tastes like beer and mint, and the masculine scent of his skin takes up the air around you as his broad frame encages you against the drywall. Your mind goes blank with the headiness of it, the coarse drag of his moustache along your skin soothed by the plush softness of his lips. Dreams of how that aquiline nose would feel bumping into yours, material at last.
His hands move lower then, traversing the line of your body, making you moan into his mouth while his touch ignites a fire inside you. You don't think, just impatiently begin to unbutton the pearly confines of your cardigan to reveal the corset beneath.
Joel breaks the kiss to glance down at your exposed chest and groan, his upper lip curling at the sight. His hands hover over the scratchy fabric, fingers twitching with another endearing flash of uncertainty. You stamp it out with an overly-confident graze of your palm over the bulge in his jeans, grinning when it makes his breath hitch, when you realize with a sick sense of triumph that Joel Miller is hard for you.
"Shit," he curses softly as he watches your hand work over him and you feel his cock come alive under your touch.
"Touch me, Joel," you quietly plead when his eyes finally find yours again.
He shakes his head.
"Wanna see you," he insists breathlessly, reaching up to toy with the edges of your mask.
You let your hand fall from his cock to swat his fingers away. Joel frowns.
"Where's the fun in that?" you ask innocently.
"Well," Joel hums, ducking forward to press his lips into the space below your ear. "I usually like knowin' who it is I'm about to ruin."
An involuntary shiver courses through you and when you speak, it's with a shake.
"You want to ruin me?"
His low chuckle echoes into the hollow of your ear while his teeth graze gently over the lobe. "Ain't that what you want, Angel?"
Oh, god. Fuck it then. It's now or never.
In a flash of movement, you tear the mask off your face and quickly clutch at Joel's curls, pulling him back into a bruising kiss before he can properly take you in. You take charge as best you can, languidly licking into his mouth and pressing your hips forward till they collide with his. Joel's response is swift, his arms wrapping around you and holding you prisoner against his body while his tongue begins to dance messily with yours.
And fuck, it's perfect. Your hips grinding against his is an almost unconscious thing, pure hunger taking over every other emotion until you feel it.
The way his body goes rigid and his lips still on yours.
Then the sudden, quiet grunt of protest against your mouth that has your eyes flashing open in response. It takes your brain a second to catch up, to notice that he's not looking at you but rather something right behind you.
Only then he does look at you and at last you see it click.
"Fuck - wait," Joel gasps, prying your mouths apart and pushing himself off you with two firm hands on your shoulders. Pathetically, your lips chase after his.
"Joel - " you whine, attempting to yank him back, clutching at the fabric of his shirt. But those firm hands encircle your wrists and tear you away, forcing space between your bodies.
"You..." Joel shakes his head, glancing between you and whatever he's seeing behind you, his expression some mixture of shock and outrage. You peer over your shoulder and finally understand; your high school graduation photo is tacked on the wall beside your head, the beatific smile of a younger, more-optimistic you staring you both down in the quiet darkness of the hallway.
You sigh exasperatedly. "Joel, it's okay. It's fine."
"It ain't - " Joel scoffs lightly and drops your wrists, steps back out of reach. A painful knot of rejection curls in your stomach, made worse by the burning heat of guilt over your stupid, stupid lie. "It ain't fine."
"Joel, please, you wanted me just a second ago," you whisper and you hate that it sounds so broken, so needy. Your words seem to affect him though, his features softening into something almost pained. "Please, I-I'm not some little girl anymore."
His jaw tightens, conflict etching the weathered lines of his face. "I don't think that's how your old man would see it."
"You think I give a fuck what he thinks?" you demand, stepping forward. He doesn't touch you, but he doesn't move either. You sigh.
"You asked why I left town."
Joel frowns. "Yeah?"
"It's because of him, Joel. Both of them," you nod in the general direction of the stairs, to the place where music is thrumming and your parents are obliviously mingling. "I mean, we - we hardly even speak. You have no idea what they put me through."
Joel's eyes stay fixed on the stairs, to the light of the party shining up from below. You see it clear as day - that part of him telling him to run as fast as he can from this. But he doesn't. So you go on.
"They don't know me, Joel," you insist, reaching out to wrap your fingers around his wrist. He turns back to face you and that pained look is back in his eyes. But he's drifting closer to you, hands stretching out in front of him like he wants so badly to touch you.
"You don't know me either," you breathe and at that, Joel scoffs. The pained look on his face gives way to something else and there's a shift behind his eyes as he frees his wrist from your grasp to press his hand into the wall beside your head.
"Actually, I think I do, little girl," he spits, leaning in close, the change in atmosphere taking you aback as your heart pounds violently in your ears. "You think I didn't hear it all from him? All your sneakin' around and actin' out? Runnin' away at eighteen? I know you."
"Who did you think I was running away from?" you bite back, petulant.
Joel shakes his head and chews on the inside of his lip, but you can see it, see the way his resolve is fading before your eyes.
"You're just - you're just a kid. He's my best friend."
You scoff.
"I hate him, Joel."
His eyes narrow and the sound of your pulse in your ears is almost deafening as Joel takes up all the space around you, something darker taking over his gaze, something menacing and delicious and promising.
"You know, that really ain't no way to talk about your daddy," he snarls.
You should flinch away from that tone, shrink and recoil from its threatening edge, its condescension. Instead, you gravitate towards it like a magnet, something warm and achy pulsing between your legs at his words.
"Maybe you need a little discipline," Joel grits out, grabbing roughly at your waistline, other hand still braced against the wall beside you.
And - oh. That really shouldn't turn you on as much as it does. Petulance quickly fades and you find yourself nodding frantically, overwhelmed as arousal swiftly burns through you, when you realize what you're on the precipice of.
"Maybe, I do," you breathe, crashing your pelvis forward into his and craning your neck up higher so your mouths are only an inch apart. Joel doesn't back away anymore. "Are you going to put me in my place, Joel?"
At that, his head falls forward and he's whispering, Goddamnit but it's too fucking late now.
Because his strong hands are clutching at your face as he presses his body weight into yours and he kisses you again, hungrier now and decidedly rougher. You whimper as his mouth moulds into yours, his hands moving to draw the silken fabric of your skirt up your thigh. His knee invades the space between your legs and forces them apart, while his lips greedily begin to trail below your jaw, sucking and nipping at the delicate skin of your neck. You curl your leg up over his waist and pull his body in closer, grind your clothed heat into the strong muscle of his thigh and hear him groan into your skin.
You claw at his back, clutching him to you as he plunges a hand between your thighs and cups your sex through your panties. The lacy fabric, wet with your arousal, scratches dizzyingly against your folds and your head falls back into the wall with a strangled sigh.
"This what you want?" he coaxes, strumming at your clit over your underwear.
"Yes - yes, Joel."
He bites down on your clavicle, pressing harder against your pussy, the tips of his thick fingers moving lower to brush your clothed entrance and cloud whatever is left of your judgment as you melt into his touch.
"Beg for it," he growls, taking you by surprise yet again. His free hand grabs you firmly by the jaw, and when his eyes find yours, there's a desperation burning in his blown-out browns, the lewdness of his request dulled by the impression you suddenly get that he needs to hear you tell him you want it. "Beg."
You don't deny him.
"Please, Joel," you plead pathetically, wriggling on his fingers and clutching desperately at fistfuls of plaid. "Please don't stop. I want this. I want you."
"Yeah?"
In lieu of an answer, you very quickly make a decision. Perhaps the stupidest of your life.
You bite your lip and unravel yourself from his embrace, tugging him hurriedly down the hall to your bedroom before you can think any better of it.
You pounce on him the second the door is locked behind you, throwing your arms around his wide neck and knocking his hat to the floor as you kiss him with newfound fervour.
"What're you doin'?" he demands but his hands are warm at the small of your back, holding you close.
"I said I want you," you repeat, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. Joel swats your hands away, tearing his mouth from yours abruptly.
"Here?"
He glances around the room, seemingly well aware you've led him directly into your childhood bedroom, eyes raking over the juvenile details that remain here; flouncy wallpaper and patterned bed sheets, *NSYNC posters and a corner full of discarded stuffed animals.
You palm at his cheek to redraw his attention, marvelling at the feel of his scruff beneath your fingers.
"Here," you assert.
Joel sighs, long and ragged, almost tortured as he quietly curses under his breath. You stare back at him dolefully, daringly ducking forward to kiss the corner of his mouth and run your fingers through his greying curls.
"Fuckin' Christ," he snarls.
All hesitance fades as his fingers coil firmly around your wrists, pinning them to your sides and guiding you into the room till your lower back hits the edge of your vanity.
"Angel, my ass," he grits, big hands meandering below the hem of your skirt, stealing your breath as he hooks his fingers under the lace edge of your panties. "You're a bad fuckin' girl, aren't you?"
You barely manage a soft, "Mhmm," before he's shimmying your underwear down your legs, taking care not to disrupt the garter around your thigh. He encourages you up onto the vanity, trinkets and make-up and perfume bottles clattering underneath you as you spread your legs for him and wrap them around his waist.
"Wanna taste you," he whispers urgently, like he's afraid he'll change his mind. You shudder as he ghosts his lips down your chest, laying open-mouthed kisses over the exposed skin above your breasts.
"Oh fuck," you whine as Joel falls to his knees between your legs and pushes your thighs further apart, making space for those broad shoulders. He positions your left leg over his shoulder and hooks his arms beneath your knees, dull fingernails digging into tender flesh. "Please."
"Shut up," he growls as his teeth come down on the skin of your inner thigh, chastising. And you know he's right, know you have to find the will to stay quiet. You curl your bottom lip between your teeth and let your head fall into the mirror behind you while Joel hungrily kisses his way closer to the apex of your thighs, groaning when he tastes the sticky slick that's already begun to coat the skin there.
You're throbbing - aching - for him to touch where you need it most and Joel doesn't tease you for long.
"Pretty fuckin' cunt," you hear him say and then his tongue is swiftly licking through the seam of your folds, sending an electric shock through every nerve in your body. Your mouth falls open in a gasp but Joel doesn't give you a chance to catch your breath, closing his lips around your clit and sucking harshly before pulling back with a lewd smack.
Your fingers are in his hair then, desperate to force him back onto you. Joel chuckles, glancing up at you with pink cheeks and wet lips.
"When's the last time someone ate your pussy, sweetheart?"
Too fucking long, you want to say but your brain can't form the words so instead you just whine and furiously shake your head from side to side.
"Oh, she's a needy thing, ain't she?" Joel murmurs darkly, eyes glinting with lust. "Been that long, huh?"
Now you nod, biting down harder on your lip to stop yourself from begging. Though Joel seems determined to make you.
"Poor little pussy," Joel says, making you shudder as he frees one of your legs from his grasp to press two fingers against your folds. He caresses you, languid swipes over your aching hole and your puffy clit, spreading your arousal tortuously till you meet his gaze, pleading.
"Please," you finally break, voice cracked. Joel smirks, triumphant.
"There she is," Joel smirks. Then you watch as he parts your lips with two fingers, exposing you fully to him before spitting onto your clit. Your eyes widen and you squeal at the sensation, watch him marvel at the sight of his own saliva mixing with your arousal as it drips down to your cunt before he catches it on his tongue and begins to devour you.
And fuck - the urge pinch yourself returns full force. Joel Miller, a man you've known most of your life, consumes your pussy like it's his last meal on Earth.
His mouth is hot and wet, eager with his efforts as he sucks and puckers over your folds. He teases you with his tongue, fucking it into your tight hole and making you writhe beneath him. Joel hums approvingly at the response, sending a fresh wave of sensation searing through you as you curl your leg around his shoulder and pull him in closer. His nose bumps against your clit and it's so good but it's not enough; you can't help it. You whine, high-pitched and broken as you wriggle your hips in search of more.
"Quiet now," Joel chides you, using the hand he'd been using to part your folds to lay a swift slap against your pussy. A wet smack fills the room and you arch your spine at the sudden, harsh contact on your sensitive cunt. Your knees instinctively come together but Joel holds them firmly apart, already diving forward to lap at your core once again.
You hiss through clenched teeth, nearly falling apart completely when he at last begins to carefully circle your clit with the tip of his tongue. Tight, practiced, impatient swirls that make your vision blurry and your toes curl. Your fingers slacken in his curls as you give in to him, let the sweet ministrations of his tongue bring you closer and closer to the edge.
Wetness gathers at your core when he flattens his tongue and lets you grind lazily against it, another quiet hum of approval encouraging you as a knot of pleasure begins to pull taut at your insides.
"More," you find yourself moaning softly.
You can feel his smile against you. "Yeah?"
"Please," you keen, rutting up into his mouth, not even entirely sure what it is you're asking for. It's so hot in here you can hardly think straight; your skin burns in the confines of your bedroom, under the heat of his mouth, layers of fabric and feathers clinging sticky to every part of you.
Joel cocks an eyebrow at you. "You gonna keep that pretty mouth shut?"
"Yeah - yes, I will, I promise," you ramble, grabbing wildly for his wrist, guiding it towards your centre.
"You want my fingers?" he asks like he doesn't already know.
"Please."
He shoos your hand before you can even get the word out, pinning it on the vanity beside you before sinking a thick finger into your heat, grunting as the warm, wet of you engulfs his digit. The back of your head collides with the glass behind you as Joel begins to fuck his finger in and out of you, quickly adding a second. You keen at the stretch, some strangled noise getting stuck in your throat as Joel chuckles lowly.
"You like that," he comments matter-of-factly as he hooks his fingers inside you and nudges at a spot seldom found by boys your age.
"Joel!" you gasp, too loud, and the fingers he has curled around your wrist tighten, a warning. You curse yourself, covering your mouth with your free hand in an attempt to contain the noises threatening to claw their way out of way.
Joel doesn't seem to be paying much attention anyway, enraptured as his mouth finds your clit again, fingers still working you open in shallow thrusts and beckoning little motions. His tongue flicks and sucks at the bundle of nerves and you don't know when or how but the hand that conceals your lips falls to clutch as his curls again, your hips grinding into his hot mouth and pushing his fingers deeper. You're so close now, can feel release ready to snap inside you.
"M'gonna stop f'you don't shut up," Joel murmurs against you, muffled wetly into your heat.
You hadn't even realized you'd been making any sound.
You think you whisper, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry but you don't know for sure because then Joel is pulling his fingers from you and gripping your ass under your skirt to hold you flush against his face, softly moaning around your clit as he laves at you, his tongue and mouth insistent, greedy.
"Oh god, oh god, oh god," you're chanting and Joel hums a noise that sounds like a question as his eyes flash up to meet yours. You can only moan and nod, telling him without words, don't stop, don't stop, don't stop before your muscles tense and you're coming with such force your entire body preens with it, spine arching and slick pooling where his chins meets your pulsing core.
Joel eats you through it, offering no reprieve even when you begin to squirm and flinch with the come down, stars still bursting behind your eyes.
"Joel, fuck," you whine when it begins to feel too much. "Can't - "
He grunts, finally detaching his mouth from you. You shiver at the loss of his warmth, cry out without meaning to when he licks a parting stripe through your sensitive folds.
When your vision refocuses, you find he's staring up at you wrecked, pink lips swollen and slick staining his cheeks and chin. There's something else there too - that stupid, pained look, that unmistakable conflict.
"Goddamn," Joel groans softly, turning his face to bite at the garter around your inner thigh.
"Joel, it's okay," you find yourself saying. You grab at the bandana around his neck, try to force him to look at you again. "Fuck me. Please. I want you to fuck me."
Joel sighs, shallow and tight, shakes his head against your leg. "You're bad fuckin' news, kid."
You can't contain the smile that spreads across your face at that. "But you want me, too? Right?"
You pet his scruff till he finally meets your gaze. There's a resignation there, in that tortured stare he gives you. But there's also lust. Wanting. He wants you.
He nods.
"Then take me," you tell him.
There's a final moment of pause, of hesitance, as Joel looks over his shoulder towards your bedroom door. You follow his gaze, pussy aching with emptiness. Joel considers the door for a moment, then looks back at you, staring at him beseechingly.
Please don't leave now, you plead with your eyes.
Joel sighs and shakes his head. You watch with curious fascination as he then begins to tug at the bandana around his neck, loosening it enough to lift it over his head.
"Sit up," he orders you, and you do, Joel moving to stand over you. You can see how hard he is now, cock straining against the zipper of his jeans. He doesn't let you ogle for long though, tilting your chin up with a strong hand under your jaw and smushing your face under his calloused fingers as he hinges down to kiss you. You taste yourself on his tongue when he forces it into your mouth, his kiss all spit and slick and commanding dominance before he pries you off him.
"You're gonna behave," he tells you simply. Not a request, but an order as he drops his hand from your face.
"Yes, daddy," you say coyly with a big, toothy smile and Joel groans, exasperated. It makes you giggle.
"Christ," he growls with a shake of his head. "'Course you're one of those. Turn around."
He doesn't wait for you to obey, rather, he manhandles you down off the vanity and spins you away from him, bringing you face to face with your own reflection before a firm hand between your shoulders is pushing you down into the faded blue wood.
You go perfectly still, waiting, feeling the rough drag of denim against the back of your thighs and the hard metal of his belt buckle digging into your flesh. But Joel's not done.
He tugs at the straps of your wings, wriggling you loose from them along with your cardigan and leaving them discarded on the floor, all traces of innocence abandoned.
"Fuck," Joel breathes, eyes flitting wildly between the you before him and the you in the mirror, running a hand roughly down your spine, grabbing at every ridge and curve before landing on your hip and pulling you into him.
"Joel..." you whine and then you jolt, gasping when the tender hand on your hip makes harsh contact with your ass.
"What'd I say?" he chides you.
Before you have time to react, he's moving over you, leaning in close so his lips are right at your ear.
"You're gonna behave," he repeats. You nod but it makes no difference because then there's a flurry of red in the mirror, as Joel slips his bandana over your head. With rough but certain fingers, he tilts your chin upwards and hooks his fingers under the fabric.
"Open," he tells you and your lips part without argument.
You watch him in the mirror as he then pulls the makeshift gag up over your chin and forces it into your waiting mouth, soft, washed cotton pressing down on your tongue and scratching at your molars with how far he pushes it in.
"Bite down," he says and you do, lips straining around red, compelling you to breathe through your nose so all you can smell is the masculine scent of him embedded into the bandana's fibres, woodsy and salty and all-encompassing.
"Good girl," Joel offers and your eyes flutter at the praise. "God, look at you. Look."
His hand in your hair tugs your neck up, giving you no choice but to appraise your reflection as he hikes your skirt up to your waist and begins to unzip his jeans behind you.
You have to admit you look a mess, hair tousled and mascara smudged around your eyes, your mouth stretched obscenely around the bandana, involuntary drool already turning red to dark brown. If you'd thought the person staring back at you in this very same mirror was all woman before, now she is all girl, all mouldable and pliant and dutiful. All Joel's.
Your pussy clenches around nothing and you moan at that thought, impatiently pushing back into him when you hear the metallic clang of his belt hitting the floor.
"Yeah - gonna fuck you now," Joel vows, pressing down between your shoulder blades so your chest is flush with the vanity. Again, he yanks at your hair to keep your eyes up, keep you focused on your reflection when the hard line of cock notches at your entrance. "Watch."
You do watch, watch him as his brows furrow and his nose scrunches in concentration, staring at the place where your bodies are nearly connected before spitting a slow stream of saliva down on to your already drenched hole. He runs the tip of his cock up and down through your folds and you feel like you might go insane with want until finally, finally, he begins to sink inside with a hushed groan.
Your hands brace against the edge of the vanity as you writhe at the stretch, the burn of him filling you. It would almost be too much, you think, if the twinge of pain you feel at the intrusion wasn't one you found so delicious, wasn't a reminder that you don't think you've ever had something this big inside you before.
"Tight little pussy," Joel mutters through gritted teeth, voice strained. "Fuck me."
You whine, wish you could repeat his words right back to him. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me.
"What?" Joel goads, bottoming out inside you, stilling with two firm hands on your waist. "What do you want?"
You can only wiggle your hips and moan softly, a silent plea. Joel chuckles once.
"Yeah, I know," he purrs and then at last, Joel Miller is fucking you.
He wastes no time, starting a hurried pace, accented by the dull smack of skin on skin and laboured grunts passing through Joel's teeth. The vanity shakes beneath you, and you wish the rush of panic you feel at someone downstairs possibly hearing its incessant scraping against the hardwood didn't make your head spin with arousal, but it does. Or maybe it's just Joel's thick cock pounding into you, nudging at your cervix with each unforgiving stroke.
"This is what you needed, huh?" he's murmuring, voice low and dark. "A big, fat cock fillin' you up?"
Oh, god. You nod, whine around the gag, find his eyes in the mirror again and your knees go weak at the sight of his form looming over yours, the collar of his shirt askew, sweat dampening his forehead.
"Yeah? Dirty - fuckin' - slut."
You keen at that, push back into the place his hips meet yours and moan. Slick dribbles between your thighs and your pussy flutters around his length and of course, of course Joel notices the response.
"Oh - you like that, don't you?" he grunts, tugging at your hair once again and making your spine arch for him.
"Look," he repeats, coaxing you to lock eyes with your own depraved reflection, a fallen angel spilling out of a corset, willingly split open by her dad's best friend. "Look what a bad girl you grew up to be."
Another muffled moan is swallowed by his bandana, his words sending a lick of heat down your spine as something wild and heady begins to scratch at your nerves. His frame engulfs yours again, lips back at your ear as he whispers,
"Daddy's cock'll fix you."
Oh fuck. Your eyes roll back into your skull and you think you hear him laugh, a mocking sound that only drives you crazier, only makes your brain go foggier when he pulls back and clutches at your hips, fucking you so hard you feel tears prick at your eyes and a tightness start to build in your core all over again.
"Yeah, that's right," Joel rasps softly, breathless. "You wanna be good, don't you? Wanna be a good girl and come again for daddy? Go on, baby - come on daddy's cock."
You want to - fuck, you want to come again. You want to be so, so good for him. To show him you always could be. Your eyes begin to flutter closed as you crane onto your tippy toes to take him deeper, feel the drag of him against the sweetest part of you, hurtling towards release with each thrust of his hips against yours.
"Don't," Joel orders you, tapping your cheek with gentle intent till you open your eyes. "Want you to look at yourself when you come on my cock."
You immediately flit your gaze up to meet your reflection, see your cheek pressed into wood, eyes wet and mouth full of fabric. You barely register Joel reaching around you to toy sloppily with your clit before you're falling apart, coming with a silent scream and clenching down around his length.
"Good girl," Joel grants you raggedly as your body quivers under his and then goes limp, waves of your come gathering around his girth and dripping down his balls. "Fuck - that's so good, baby."
Joel fucks you relentlessly as your second orgasm crashes over you, chasing his own high as he begins to ramble wildly under his breath, his voice echoing hollowly in your pleasure-drunk mind as though he were speaking from very far away.
"Gonna fuckin' ruin you, baby girl. Gonna use this little pussy up. You're not gonna wanna take another cock for weeks."
You whimper tiredly, nod obediently. You're not sure you want to take another cock besides his ever again.
"Maybe I'll send ya out to that club with my come drippin' outta ya."
And you know it's stupid and careless and wrong to want that but you make a noise that sounds like yes please all the same. Joel groans.
"Say that again?" he presses you, the rock of his hips coming faster, more erratic.
Yes please, you try again, words turning into mumbled nothings against the gag.
"Shit," Joel curses lowly, and you're jolted back to almost-reality when he forcefully tugs the bandana from your mouth and air fills your lungs in a cool rush. "One more time."
"Please," you say, voice broken and hoarse. "Yes, please. Come inside me."
You think you catch him smirk in the mirror but it's quickly replaced by something else entirely, his jaw slackening as his breath begins to stutter and his chest begins to heave, a whispered chant of, oh shit oh shit oh shit your final warning before he's spilling deep inside you.
He hardly makes a sound as his big hands come down on the vanity beside your head, thick arms all around you as he pumps his load into you. He's biting down hard on his lower lip, doing a far better job of staying quiet than you are, tired little whimpers pouring from between your lips until he's folding over your back and covering your mouth with his palm again.
You stay like that, your breath hot against his hand and his lips in your hair, until he's emptied himself completely. He frees your mouth once it's over but stays glued to your back, a heavy weight above you as both your breathing levels out.
You both shiver when he pulls out, and there's a softness in the way he tilts your face towards his now, in the way he lazily licks into your mouth at the same time that his fingers reach between your bodies to catch the come dripping out of you and push it back inside.
Eons seem to pass before he's sighing and hoisting himself off you with a gentle, "C'mon, baby." He taps your sides as he steps away but you stay where you are. You're not sure you have it in you to move just yet.
You hear the buzz of his zipper and the clang of his belt buckle and then his hands are on you again, tentative as he pulls your skirt down over your ass and smooths out the fabric.
"Hey," he murmurs, and you're pleasantly surprised at the feel of his lips pressing sweetly into your upper back. "Come on."
He tugs at your arms, gently helping pull you upright and sighing again as he takes in the sight of you. You smile, almost bashful about it, Joel carefully lifting the bandana up over your head and adjusting your hair for you with a sigh. He crouches to retrieve your cardigan and fits it back over your shoulders before slipping you back into your angel wings.
"Look up," he says, and you do, holding perfectly still as he rubs his thumbs under your eyes, caressing away drying tears and smears of black make-up.
He tuts.
"You might wanna..." He makes an errant gesture with his hand at your tarnished visage, and you understand.
The ridiculousness of it all seems to catch up with you then and you giggle breathily, shaking your head as if to wake from some perfect, lucid dream.
"Thanks," you tell him. "Joel, I'm - I'm sorry for lying to you."
Joel licks his lips and you think for a moment he's going to tell you off, scold you like you probably deserve. But then he grins and there he is again - the Joel you remember from before.
"Guess I can't really complain," he concedes, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. "You're, uh - you're somethin' else, sweetheart."
You smile and Joel sighs, finally letting his hand fall. You watch him as he finds his hat, warming when he stops to kiss your cheek before making his way towards the door.
"Wait," you call quietly after him. "So would you...do you wanna do this again? While I'm in town?"
There's a lengthy beat of nervous uncertainty and then Joel laughs. He shakes his head and stares at the floor as he readorns his hat, finally turning to face you with one hand on your doorknob.
"You're gonna be trouble, aren't you, Angel?"
You smirk devilishly back at him. "You're damn right, cowboy."
You offer him a parting wink that has him shaking his head for the millionth time as he slinks discreetly out the door, closing it behind him and leaving you alone with the woman in the mirror.
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notjustjavierpena · 25 days
Text
Swelter
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A/N: This happened because the SAG Awards made me horny. I have no other explanation for my behavior, no other defence. Maybe that I was listening to ur dad by VIAL. Obviously also a huge thanks to @strang3lov3 for being the cutest love bug I know, and for putting up with my brainstorming sessions.
Summary: You have a crush on Sarah’s father. It is summer, it is hot, and you just want a cold drink.
Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (no y/n)
Tags: +18 smut, best friend’s dad, significant age gap (reader is 19-22, Joel is in his mid-40s), SEXUAL TENSION, bee stings, groping, voyeur to some degree, f masturbation, dirty talk, an endless amount of pet names, sexy play with a soda can, praise kink, car sex, daddy kink, fingering, unprotected piv sex, joel’s cock is huge in this, creampie, premature ejaculation, pussy eating, come eating, squirting
Word count: 6.8k
Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54233479
Swelter
A warm Texas breeze blows through the open window of Sarah’s childhood room, making the see-through pink curtains move elegantly from side to side. It hits your back right underneath your halter neck as you lay on Sarah’s bed, caressing your bare skin and making you think of him. You wonder if his hands would have the same effect on you because you find yourself shivering but not from feeling cold. He is somewhere here, and his daughter doesn’t even know that her best friend obsesses about that fact.
Sarah hasn’t changed her room since she was a teenager. She told you this the first time she brought you here, which is almost a year ago today. You were here last summer too, thrilled to be invited to spend a few weeks of your summer with a friend from college and you and her have been inseparable ever since, even if you are so different from each other.
You have your face in a woman’s magazine, propped up on your elbows so you can suck on a popsicle stick whilst turning the pages. There’s a page with the recipe for ‘The Best Fudgy Chocolate Cake Ever!’ next to a page on how to lose weight, and it makes you snort.
“What?” Sarah turns on her chair, pausing the video on her computer.
“What kinda woman are you? You can choose one, but only one. Don’t get greedy now!” You make a scratchy voice but then pop your ice pop in your mouth to hold up the magazine for her to see.
“Seriously? We can’t win,” she groans dramatically, “Chocolate cake always. I just want to be happy, and that looks like a serotonin boost.”
Suddenly, the door opens without any warning. It’s him. Mr. Miller. You quickly remove the popsicle from your mouth, not about to show him how your lips are stretched around the sugary snack. The open door causes a draft to blow the smell of his cologne your way, and it is intoxicating beyond your imagination because you relish in it in secret.
“Dad,” Sarah says with exasperation, “I thought being an adult earned you the privilege of more privacy.”
“It’s gettin’ colder outside now,” he states and ignores her comment, hand resting on the doorknob, “The Adlers need Mercy to be walked, and the pavement’s coolin’ down.”
“I walked him when I was fourteen,” she furrows her brow and you suppress a snicker, “I’m twenty.”
“Just ‘cause you’re grown, don’t mean you can’t do right by ‘em,” he states matter-of-factly.
“Hi, Mr. Miller,” you say from your spot on the bed as Sarah fumes quietly, absentmindedly reaching to pull the short skirt of your dress down. He can probably see the start of your ass from how it has been riding up as you lay down on the sheets.
“Hiya darlin’,” he replies and you swear you can hear a restrained sound in his voice. He turns to Sarah again, “Get your butt off that chair.”
“Fine,” she follows through on her orders but still wants to argue, probably embarrassed at being ordered around by her father in front of her friend. She gestures to you, “And what about my guest?”
“She’s grown too, which means she can probably entertain herself the half hour you’ll be gone,” he dares wink at you, and blood courses through your veins.
“I’ll just get that assignment done while you’re out,” you reassure and try not to seem like your core is shaking.
“See?” Joel looks triumphant.
“You’d make a hell of a lawyer,” she deadpans at her father and walks past him.
When he closes the door and leaves you alone in the bedroom, you can feel your popsicle having melted, its syrupy water running down your fingers. You switch hands and suck the sticky fingers into your mouth. The action makes Mr. Miller’s image flash in your mind and you press your thighs together before getting up and finding your laptop.
You find that it’s near impossible to concentrate on proofreading your assignment in the tiny bedroom after just five minutes of being alone. It’s not that you can’t concentrate in the Summer heat but no matter what you do, your mind keeps circling back to Joel’s voice as he called you darling. It heats you more than the sun ever could, and with every tap on your keyboard, your mouth gets more and more dry.
Eventually, you push yourself to stand from your seat at the desk and make a decision to go fetch something to drink, and it is definitely not with the intention of accidentally bumping into Sarah’s father. Not even when you do not find Joel in the kitchen and decide to bypass it altogether to continue into the garage in hopes of being successful in your search for a drink (obviously).
This infatuation started last year. It took you about ten seconds - from walking into the kitchen and shaking Joel’s hand - to realize that Sarah was cursed with having him as a father. Firstly, he was outrageously handsome; always wearing washed-out t-shirts that clung to his shoulders, always smiling with teeth, sporting salt-and-pepper curls, and sometimes even shocking you by entering the kitchen with working gloves on. However, when he opened his mouth and spoke, a southern drawl dripped from his lips and made your whole body tense up. He was charming, respectful, and laughed at the right moments. Most importantly, he laughed at every damn attempt that you made at being funny, and while it was probably an attempt to be nice and make you feel at home, it spurred you on terribly to win him over at every opportunity.
Despite all that, those opportunities weren’t many. He was also cool enough to know that his daughter didn’t want him hanging around all the time, and so he spent many days either in the garden to mow the lawn in competition with the rest of the fathers down the street, in the garage to fix up some old truck, or with his brother, Tommy, and Tommy’s wife who always had some DIY-project going on.
Thus, the summer became one of tanning sessions in the garden, movies in Sarah’s room, stolen glances at Joel Miller whenever he came inside to quench his thirst after hard labor, and secret longing whenever he had kept away for too long.
One particular day last year, Sarah had failed to mention that her father would be home most of the last days you were in their house, and because he was always out, you were getting more and more comfortable with walking around in your towels post-showers or leaving the door unlocked when changing.
The particular event had happened in the morning when the house had been silent except for the kitchen where Sarah was preparing breakfast, using a large box of pancake mix and the whole fruit section of the local grocery store for topping. You had just showered, standing with your head in your suitcase to search for the last few pieces of clothing you had that were clean when there was a rap on the door and a pull of the handle not even a second later.
“Sarah, I need—“
You whipped around at the sound of a new voice entering the room. Your heart nearly burst out of your chest, feeling as though it was fighting its way out between your ribs as embarrassment began to flood your system. Even so, you stood too frozen to reach for something to cover yourself up.
Joel was in the doorway and dead silent, looking as if struck by lightning. Like earlier today, his hand had been resting on the doorknob and in the painfully short moment that the both of you were processing the situation, you saw that his grip tightened enough to whiten his knuckles.
And then it happened, the thing that had soaked you in forbidden desire and delicious excitement; his gaze had flickered down your body and taken you in for the briefest of seconds. His gaze had traveled from the hard peaks of your nipples to the shape of your hips and the softness of your young cunt.
“Fuck,” you heard him utter as he remembered himself and his self-awareness made you finally grab the top you were going to be wearing that day to cover up your quivering body. He slammed the door shut and spoke through it, “Christ, ’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
“It’s okay, Mr. Miller,” you promised but he was already gone. You immediately locked the door afterward to come so hard with two fingers on your clit that you had to hold onto the chair by the desk.
God, you want him to look at you like that again, want to tell him it is all for him. Now, as wrong as you know it is, you find yourself searching for an excuse to get him to ogle you and the chances are higher if he actually spends time with you.
“Hi, Mr. Miller,” you announce yourself as you enter the garage through the door in the kitchen. Joel has his head inside the hood of his truck, leaning over to inspect something that you wouldn’t understand anything about anyway. He grips the front side of the engine room to push himself to stand, closes the top of the hood of his truck, and turns around to face you.
“Hey kiddo,” he returns with a smile, “How many times do I gotta say to ya that it’s just Joel?”
“Alright, Mr. Miller,” you tease, “—I mean, Just Joel.”
You hear him laugh softly but you don’t dare look at him, afraid that you’ll spontaneously combust. He goes to the utility sink to wash his hands, saying nothing more and making you feel insane for coming apart in the silence.
“I’m just getting something to drink,” you explain when it becomes too much, “Sarah’s room is boiling hot.”
“That’s fine, take what you’d like,” he replies, and there’s a kind teasing in his voice. “But don’t touch the orange sodas. Those are mine.”
The concrete floor of the garage is cold on your bare feet as you pad across the floor where an old bottom-freezer refrigerator stands in the corner, humming in the otherwise quiet room. It has seen better days, and it seems like Sarah has tried to cheer up its weathered appearance by covering it in stickers and ugly magnets.
“Now I have to get one of those,” you giggle and pull the door open, scanning the contents and noticing that the sodas are on the bottom shelf. You hesitate for just a second, and then you choose to bend over instead of crouching down. Behind you, Joel Miller is completely silent.
In the beginning, it hadn’t been your intention to let the crush fester in your brain and turn it into something more but last week, during dinner out on the terrace, you had accidentally sat down on a bee and gotten stung on the back of your thigh. The cry you had let out had nearly made Joel tip over the table to get to you, his chair falling backward as he got up from his seat.
“Fuck! Ow ow ow!” You cried and hobbled around on the grass. The pain was unbearable but the shock only seemed to make it worse.
“Sarah, please get some ice and some antihistamines. There should be a bottle on my nightstand,” Joel ordered quickly and she rushed inside. He walked toward you, grabbing at your shoulders to ground you but his touch only heightened all other sensations. He dug his thumbs into you and your head swam, “Sweetheart, ‘tis just a bee, shh, calm down. I need to remove the stinger. Lemme see ya.”
“It really fucking hurts, Mr. Miller,” you said with a whine as he guided you to one of the loungers that Sarah and you had dragged out from the shed earlier that week.
“I know,” he finally let go of you so you could think just a bit more clearly, “Lemme take a look. Lie down on your front.”
You followed orders with the realization of how much you trusted his judgment, that he would treat you right, moving carefully because the flex of your thigh muscle was making the pain worse. The wooden lounger burned slightly against the front of your thighs, and you pressed your cheek into its slats while screwing your eyes shut.
The wood creaked behind you as he knelt on it with one knee and suddenly, his broad hand was perched on the top of your thigh in an attempt to keep your skin taut. You sucked in a breath but he only mistook it for more pain.
“It’s alright, sweetheart. I can see it,” his breath was slightly quicker but you didn’t want to jump to conclusions, “He really got ya right on your inner thigh. Hold on.”
Your eyes shot open when his thumb ran towards the innermost part of the back of your thigh, a sort of panicked arousal spiking from your chest and thighs. He paused for a second then murmured something, a swear word that you tried to take as frustration. There was a beat but then he cleared his throat, “Can you bend your leg a little? I wanna make sure that I get it on the first try.”
“How?” You asked stupidly. The image of how he would be looming over your backside made your heartbeat go down between your legs, “My dress’ll ride up.”
“Just bend the knee a little, pull it towards your chest,” he explained and cleared his throat once more, “On my life, I won’t look.”
So you did as he told you, and sure enough, your dress betrayed you by crawling slowly up to sit around your hip instead of the middle part of your thigh. You looked back at him when he started picking at the stinger with his nails, and you hoped that he would not notice your gawking at his concentrated expression.
A flash of the day he had barged in on you naked flashed in your mind because his eyes were so focused on not staring at you that you nearly whimpered when you saw his eyes flicker to the spot of dampness between your legs for no more than a second.
You had worn white cotton panties that day so they would not be seen through your dress. They were straining against your pussy in this position and all he had to do was reach out, and he’d find your clit poking against the fabric from how excited you were feeling.
He had had the perfect outline of your cunt, and it’s the same now as you bend over to get to the very bottom of the fridge, reaching for a cold drink that just happens to be his favorite. You know that he can see everything, and the worst is that you know he already has. Twice. The mere thought is so dirty that your heart starts pounding in your chest and sends heat through your already hot body, so you hurry to stretch to your full height again.
With a cocky grin that is mostly put on to hide your anxious excitement about what you have just done, you turn to face Joel and walk to stand in front of him and his car. His cologne fills your nostrils again, and the scent seems once again to have a direct line to your cunt because you have never felt more empty. In front of you, Joel’s jaw is clenched but other than that, he seems a lot more calm and composed than you.
That is until you jump onto the hood of the car and scoot back, letting your bare feet dangle out over the edge. You crack open the soda in your hand and take a sip that is a little longer than intended. The satisfying burn of the fizz grounds you in the warm climate, but it is even more heavenly as you tuck the skirt of your dress between your thighs so you can place the cold can there.
Joel shakes his head with a sigh but you know he is playing a game as much as you because he cannot help but crack a smile back at you, “You’re trouble, I knew it the second Sarah brought ya into my house.”
“Oh, whatever will I do?” You ask dramatically and lean back against the windshield.
“Go morally bankrupt?” He raises a brow. If only he knew what is going through your mind. You catch him looking at you in the fashion that you have craved when you sigh deeply and cause your chest to push out.
“Only that?” You take another sip and some of the contents spill down your chin in a thick, sticky trail due to the angle you’re sitting in. You reach up to wipe it away with your index finger and then dare to suck your finger clean with the intention of mimicking the way that you had licked it clean earlier when it had been coated in melted popsicle.
“Give it here,” he says. You lock eyes with him. However, your eyes widen slightly when he nods at the can and takes it from between your thighs. There’s electricity shooting through your nerves the second his fingers touch the fabric of your dress but they intensify to a dizzying degree when he takes a sip of the soda too.
Like a reflex, the sight of him drinking from the can that’s been nestled between your thighs makes your legs fall out to the sides. You’re worse than an obedient dog in your horniness, reacting the same way to the way he moves as it would to the sound of a bell ringing.
Your dress rides up slowly along your thighs, revealing your sweaty skin that feels sticky by now and Joel clears his throat after briefly looking down. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and when you realize the effect it has on the poor man, you grab the hem and pull upwards, “It’s so hot outside today. Don’t think I’ll ever get used to the heat here in Texas.”
“C’mon, sweetheart,” he says and his face has got a pinker tint, pulse visible on the side of his neck. With his free hand, he grabs one of your knees and starts nudging your legs together again. He yanks your skirt down, “I know I’m always teasin’ ya but you can’t be doing this.”
“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you say with exasperation and move your legs out again, “It’s just very hot… and it’s not like you haven’t had a peek.”
“Hey now,” he leans forward to place the can of soda on the roof of the truck, “That ain’t a fair accusation.”
“I’m not accusing you of anything,” you reply, chewing on your bottom lip, “But you’re not denying it.”
“Don’t tryna make me look like the pervert here,” he scolds, taking a step towards you and causing your stomach to do somersaults, “I noticed the way you went real quiet when my hands were on you.”
“What do you mean?” You furrow your brows in confusion, “Your hands were never on m–”
“Did that bee sting really hurt that much?” He clarifies. Oh, you think whilst he smirks with triumph. Something has switched in the air surrounding you, the atmosphere has become more daring, “Yeah, I saw her; your pussy wet f’me.”
It’s true. If you think about it too much, you can still feel your heartbeat in the places where he touched you, and the pulse is rapid and overwhelming. You can’t imagine what it'll be like if he touches you underneath your dress, even if it’s simply on the outside of your panties. The thought has your underwear starting to dampen, the fabric starting to stick to you, and make you painfully aware of the wetness between your legs.
“Did ya touch yourself after?” His eyes have darkened slightly. His pupils are dilating with desire for your answer, and you nod hesitantly, overwhelmed by the need to tell him everything.
“During my shower that you told me to take,” you confess and hear him make a sound low in his throat at the mental image, “I couldn’t stop myself— I wanted you so badly. The thought of you inside me...”
This is a crossroad, you realize, you’ve said your deepest secret of depravity. On one hand, you can bolt out the door or you can make a move to show him what you really came down here for. The latter is risky but Joel is so goddamn decent that you know that if he doesn’t want this - which you doubt is the case at this point - he’ll gently reject you and never mention it again if it means that his daughter will continue having a best friend.
However, as your mind races with scenarios of what could or could not happen in this moment, Joel pulls you back into reality as his hand, cold from gripping the can, rests on your knee again but this time, it doesn’t try to make you decent like before. Instead, it slides up under your skirt in such a slow motion that you find yourself holding your breath.
“Is this what’ll quiet down that mind of yours?” He asks in a low voice, eyes flickering from your face to down between your legs and back again, “If I take a peek more to get it outta our system?”
“What are you doing?” You ask as if you do not know. It’s your turn to be scandalized by bluntness, and you find yourself gripping his arm but not hard enough to signal that you do not want him to continue. You hope that he realizes that this is not you rejecting his advances.
“I ain’t doing nothin’ that you haven’t already silently begged me to do. Perhaps sometimes - and God help me, I will probably regret it - you just needa follow your instincts when a pretty girl like you has been sendin’ me heart eyes all week,” he almost sounds annoyed with you, and to stop yourself from being scolded, your hand loosens its grip on him until you remove it altogether. He smiles, “Good girl.”
“You shouldn’t—“ you feel a rush of blood to your head, adrenaline kicking in as your thoughts circle around the repercussions that this can bring. In all honesty, you had only walked in here to have Joel’s eyes on you but now, you are getting more than you bargained for and it is making you so turned on that your mind is clear and foggy at the same time. Boldly, you sit up on the car’s hood so you can reach for the buckle of Joel’s belt, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“You’re damn right we shouldn’t be doin’ this,” he agrees immediately but doesn’t stop. His warm and rough palms skim further up your thighs until they settle by your hips, his thumbs teasing the elastic band of your panties. He starts to drag them down, the fabric nearly snapping in two when you barely register that you have to lift your ass to help him.
His fingers unintentionally caress your calves as he slides the underwear down to eventually pull them off your ankles and feet. The sensation makes your body wake up even more, a gush of wetness smearing your inner thighs and you know that you have to pull your dress up soon if you don’t want it stained.
In front of you, Joel reads your mind. He shoves the hem of your dress up as far as he can without a word with desperation in his trembling hands, and you move to let him bunch it up around your waist so he has a full view of what waits - and for long has waited - for him.
When your cunt is revealed to him, he groans like he is in pain at the sight of the slick shining on your soft youthful skin. You can see how hard he is in his jeans, cock straining against the zipper at the front of them.
He looks like he wants to touch but hesitates. The first sign of his inner conflict. You remember that he did say just a peek as if there’s an unspoken agreement that he is not to cross the line of touching what he shouldn’t want to have. It would definitely be a nuclear decision if he chooses to do it anyway. It makes you want it even more, and another gush spills from your glistening slit when you clench from excitement.
Joel swears under his breath, something that sounds like fuck it and it sets it in stone; he is going to ruin you for eternity right here on his car. He steps closer until your spread knees bump into his sides, and without saying anything you move to yank his jeans and briefs down, settling them around his hips with a soft gasp as you take in the sight of his fully hard cock. He is huge. So huge that your mouth starts salivating like you’ve already been fucked stupid and your walls try to clamp down on nothing. It’ll hurt. You want it to if it means that you won’t doubt if it ever happened tomorrow.
“Tell me you want this too,” he seeks your reassurance.
“So fucking badly, Mr. Miller— Joel,” you say without any hint of second-guessing in your voice. You scoot further forward on the car and lean back so he has better access, trying your best to be elegant in your messy state, “Please, want you in me.”
“Jeez, honey,” his breath shakes, “Already so eager. I haven’t even felt if she’s ready f’me.”
With one hand gripping your left thigh, he uses two fingers on his right hand to slide through your wet folds and you don’t think you have ever been this turned on for anyone; when he flips his palm upwards and shoves two fingers inside of you, you feel more arousal drip from your cunt and pool in his hand. The longing you have felt since you saw him for the first time finds somewhere to empty all its desire and desperation into, and you whine like you’re in a state of agony.
“Shhh…” he soothes and curls his digits inside of you until you think you might start crying, squelching cunt trying to pull him further into you as he fingers you lazily. Your gaze drops to how his cock twitches whilst standing in the air, “You’re grippin’ me so good, doll, can’t wait to fuck this pussy. Don’t cry like that. Be patient.”
“Please, I’m so—“ your palms are flat on the hood of the car, your mouth hangs open in ecstasy and you stare down at where his ring- and middle finger disappears repeatedly into you, “It’s yours, please.”
“I know it’s mine, don’t gotta say it, I know,” he coos at each of your whimpers, gets you worked up until you are just on the brink of coming, and then he moves quickly. He pulls his fingers out of you, smears his cock with what you’ve soaked his whole palm with, and leans over your gasping frame to nudge at your quivering hole.
When he finally enters you, the both of you gasp in unison. He struggles with it for a moment, rubbing the skin just below your belly button to make you relax because he is so much bigger than you had first anticipated, and such a tight fit that you think he might split you in two.
“Goddamn, you are tight,” he says through gritted teeth, “Feels fuckin’ amazin’.”
“Ah,” you feel like letting yourself turn into a drooling mess already, pulsating around him from the way your body struggles to take him, “Joel, I can’t.”
“Yes, you can, honey,” he encourages, showing no signs of pulling out of you to free you from the burn of his girth. He growls low in his throat as you struggle with it, and you know it’s because your walls are clenching around him as you involuntarily move, “Stay still, let her get used to it.”
“It hurts,” you whine, sliding slightly on the metal underneath your ass. He presses his hips forward even further and causes you to whimper but in doing so, he holds you firmly in place by using his strong frame.
“I know but ya just gotta relax,” he goes on. He places one hand flat on the hood of the car and then places the other right on your hip, thumb going inwards to find your clit. It pulses under his finger, trying to find out whether to find the pain delicious or not.
When his thumb starts going in circles on you, your thigh muscles start to twitch and flex from burning desire instead of uncomfortable pain. He presses down a little to stroke your sensitive nub with even more determination and smiles at his success when a moan slips from your mouth, “That’s it, honey. Just enjoy this until you’re creamin’ on me, and then I can fuck her real good.”
Your walls start to flutter a few seconds after the first new round of pleasurable sounds leave you, and the more his finger moves on you, the easier it gets to take him because the pain turns into nothing more than a dull ache in the background of ecstasy. He has you breathing faster and faster, and in return, he starts moving his thumb up and down to make his touches more direct.
God, your clit is hardening underneath his torment. He stares at what he is doing, an occasional grunt leaving him from how you involuntarily squeeze his length, and you know that he can sense it, suddenly smirking to himself as you near your climax. He admires the sight of you, eyes glued to the way the hood of your clit has drawn back, “Babydoll, look at that. Such a pretty pussy, clit peekin’ out and all. Does she wanna come on my cock?”
“Please, yes, oh please,” you nod repeatedly, mouth hanging open in an o-shape and breaths coming out in small puffs. Your climax is within reach, and Joel looks concentrated as he more than willingly hands it over to you whilst buried deep inside of you. The concentration on his face is probably from keeping himself from spilling inside of you too soon, but God, he looks gorgeous as he determinedly strokes your cunt.
“Yes, yes, yesyesyes— oh God, I’m… fuck, I’m coming!” You shake with pleasure as he causes your pussy to spasm, your hands barely able to find out what to do and making you grab at both the metal underneath you with one hand and his wrist with the other. Your eyes are squeezed shut but you do not doubt that he is staring at you in awe as you come so hard that reality fades.
“Good girl,” he rasps, voice unsteady and hand hitting the hood of the car as the feeling becomes overwhelming, “Oh sweetheart, you’re choking my dick so g—“
He swears quietly and then loudly, and suddenly, his cool demeanor crumbles because he is spilling his load inside of you with a pathetic and strained grunt. His hips stutter slightly and warmth spreads slowly inside of you, mixing with your own arousal.
You look down to where the two of you are connected, feeling fucked out despite not even having had the chance to feel him move inside of you. His come has started to spill from you already, dripping obscenely from your cunt.
“Fuck,” you hear Joel say above you. He slips out of you and leaves you gaping and mewling for a second, starting to take a step back. You catch him with your legs before he is too far away, and he reluctantly steps close to you again. He looks embarrassed but gives you a smile to hide it, “Felt too good, honey. This pussy’s makin’ me all sweet on you.”
“I’m that irresistible?” You grin in your post-orgasmic haze, not really giving a crap about the lack of a proper fuck from how much dopamine is coursing through your veins.
Joel takes hold of your thighs as they are wrapped around your body and lifts them off of himself, “You’re makin’ an old bastard like me weak in the knees, so maybe. Hah! Comin’ too soon like a goddamn teenager.”
“I liked it,” you admit without hesitation, still basking in the sweet afterglow, “Made me feel sexy and powerful.”
He scoffs but can’t fight the smile on his face, “Now now, don’t get cocky on me. Crawl back a little, spread ya legs f’me.”
You giggle and do as you are told, presenting yourself to him on the hood of his car. You plant your bare feet on the metal, lay back against the windshield, and smile.
“Now look at that,” he tuts as he admires his work; white ropes of come dripping down from your slit and onto the surface beneath you. He lays both hands flat on the car and leans forward, and before you know it, his mouth is covering your whole cunt and he eats from you like he’s paid to do it.
“Jesus,” you groan, throwing your head back and grabbing onto the roof of the car with one hand whilst the other finds Joel’s hair. You tug and he moans against you, sending vibrations through your whole lower body and beginning the first stirrings of another high. You don’t think that you can take it, squirming just like you had done moments earlier.
Joel makes a sound of disapproval. He scoops his arms under your thighs until he can lay his hands on top of them, holding you tightly against his mouth and causing you to cry towards the ceiling when he makes your second orgasm approach so quickly that nothing in your brain makes sense except what he is doing between your legs.
The hand on the roof of his car goes to his head too. You slide your fingers on both hands through his hair until they lay at the back of his neck, and then you yank once more at the curls there. His tongue works at your clit, swiping back and forth over it until you think that you might see God.
However, it doesn’t stay there. Instead, it is replaced by his nose so that he can eat his own spill straight from you by dipping his tongue hungrily inside of you.
“Joel— holy fuck, you’re incredible,” you close your eyes to concentrate on your pleasure. Who knew that the man could fuck with his tongue? He is warm and wet inside of you, slurping pornographically until you are clean of any remains of his come.
You are just about to finish a second time when he halts whatever he is doing. He pulls back only a few inches so you can still feel his uneven breaths against your cunt.
“No! Please,” your eyes fly open, you cry desperately, and throw your head forward dramatically. You want to thrash but he still has your legs locked in his arms, so you decide to pull out the big guns and hope for the best, “Please, Daddy! Pleasepleaseplea—“
“What the fuck did you just say t’me?” He looks up at you but you are too busy screwing your eyes shut in agony whilst whining for more. He growls and releases one of your legs, “I was already gonna make you a happy young lady but now, I’m gonna make you come so hard your little brain goes dumb. See how it feels. Impatient girl.”
His hand goes between your legs. He turns his palm upwards and then shoves two thick fingers inside of your pussy like earlier, curling them slightly and then pumping them so quickly that blood starts speeding through your system a second after and your heart rate goes so fast that you know that you are just about to come.
“Joel, oh my— fuck!” You whimper.
“Wrong word,” he replies.
You correct yourself immediately because there’s no way he is stopping again to chastise you once more, “Daddy, oh I— mhmm, I’m gonna come for you. Don’t stop, please, please Daddy, pleasepleaseplea—!”
He responds just how you had liked: He closes his mouth around your swollen clit and sucks hard, finally severing all connection to your brain and you come so hard that you actually squeal. Joel groans against you, feeling you squeeze the digits he has buried deep inside you. He draws back his fingers, pressing upwards the whole way.
Clear liquid squirts from you the second he pulls them out. The gushes that follow are so intense that the leg he isn’t holding anymore shakes so violently that the metal rattles under you, the car staining with your come. He repeats the move again and again, over and over, and watches the steady trickle down the hood and onto the concrete floor that turns a dark gray.
Euphoria courses through your being as you come in a way that you have never felt before. Your limbs tingle as warmth spreads out from beneath your belly button, your cunt pulses with eager pleasure, and you sob through the waves that crash over you without giving you time to recover from the last. The whole room feels brighter and its colors more vibrant.
“Shh, baby, let it happen, feels so good, don’t it? That’s it,” Joel coos at you the whole way through, guides you through it when you barely know how to use your words. He has straightened to his full height again but you don’t know when, and he has slowed his fingers down to tease out a few aftershocks. You whimper feebly at each one, and when Joel seems satisfied with what he has drawn out of you, he covers your whole mound with his palm to soothe the feeling of overstimulation that settles.
“Soundproof,” he mutters, once again reading your mind when you come to your senses again and start thinking about your noise levels with furrowed brows and eyes flitting from him to the garage door. Your heartbeat has started to slow again, and the relief of knowing no one has been able to hear you makes you slump against the windshield and breathe deeply.
The remnants of your orgasm have made you smile, your body slipping into a deep state of satisfaction when the anxieties have been dispelled. Joel moves his hand up your lower body until it settles between your breasts, still covered by your dress. He caresses your heaving chest, looking at you boyishly for the first time, “You good? Didn’t cause any brain damage, did I?”
“You think this truck has ever seen action like that before?” You joke breathlessly.
“Probably ain’t the first time I disappointed a gorgeous lady in its presence,” he says with an apologetic smile, “Sorry ‘bout that.”
“Disappointed? You’re insane,” you stretch your arms above your head to get some of the last bits of euphoria out of your body, trying to ignore the way he has just called you a gorgeous lady. He probably means nothing by it. As your stretch peaks, you moan gently, “I came two times. Hard. I’m not complaining.”
“Just saying that I woulda liked to do it… properly, I guess,” he talks as he stuffs himself back into his underwear and pants, most likely trying to feel the least uncomfortable about mentioning his overexcitement. Automatically, he steps back when you jump off the car to adjust your dress.
“This doesn’t have to be a one-time thing,” you try to act casual as you say it but there’s no way you are accepting the best sex of your life to be a thing you will never have again, reducing it to a movie merely playing behind your eyelids as a cruel reminder of what is unattainable.
“And when would we have time for that?” He asks, zipping up his jeans. He wipes his hands on them, “We can’t, honey.”
“We just did,” you mumble, picking up your underwear from the floor. You turn the panties in your hands, just about to bend down to put them on before deciding against it. Boldly, you stand in front of him and stuff your sticky underwear into his front pocket; closest to his crotch. There are extra pairs in your bag in Sarah’s room. He can have these.
He looks down briefly and then finds your eyes. His jaw clenches as he weighs his words, “When?”
“Aren’t you driving me to the airport on Sunday?” You smile and kiss his cheek, and then you leave him, your soda in hand and a mess on the floor.
.
.
.
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joeloverture · 7 days
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snowbound | dbf!j.m. x f!reader
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masterlist | updates blog | ao3 mirror pairing: dbf!joel miller x f!reader summary: [no outbreak] joel is the only guy you know with four wheel drive in the rarely-snowy state of texas, so it seems like a no-brainer to have him pick you up from work — until his truck breaks down, leaving you two to the classic 'huddle for warmth' solution. warnings: (18+ mdni) dbf!joel, age gap (assumed 20s/40s), reader borrows joel's coat, but does not wear it and uses it as a blanket, self-indulgent humor & banter, joel has sarah and she's a 15y/o menace which means liberties are taken with the timeline, blink & miss it drug mention, close proximity, unprotected piv sex, vaginal fingering, (mocking) dirty talk & dirty talk alluding to anal but no actual anal, daddy kink, degradation, dom!joel, brat!reader, brat tamer!joel, mild bondage (with a scarf), rearview mirror sex, clit stim, riding, doggy, a few pussy spanks, 2 spanks, truck sex, sort of edging, getting caught after the act [no use of y/n] word count: 12.3k a/n: this fic was a labor of love from a request i received earlier this month. i didn't expect it to be this long but i really enjoyed these two! massive massive massive shoutout to talia, @lovesickonmybed, for putting up with me + advising. this fic was way too much to handle on my own. they're the reason i pulled it off. joel is latino here, but i think game!joel can be interpreted as latino too, so read who you'd like.
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“Looking ahead for our chances at wintry precipitation tonight – measurable snow, freezing rain, or sleet. It’s hard to get snow here in central Texas – if only, huh? We’re seeing some strong flurries tonight, turning into snow showers in the early morning. Low chances of any significant build up, but you can expect hazardous driving conditions. Black ice and low visibility will make extensive travel dangerous–”
The radio in Keith’s Hardware is old fashioned, curving around the volume and tuning knobs. It’s one of the ones that still has a dial pointer, which is almost always aimed at 92.7 if Keith’s in the back (country); 96.7 (pop) if it’s just you and the only other girl that works in the carpenter’s wet dream of a store. Right now, though, it’s neither of those stations. The pointer is at 162.4, the weather station.
You’d known you were in for it on the drive into work. Watch the weather and it’s real nasty out there airing from your parents lips on your way out of the house for your eight hour shift. The drive had been a gunmetal sort of gray, clouds streaked through the sky and spitting bullets of sleet at your windshield.
For a little bit, the weather had almost cleared up. You’d sworn you’d seen a splotch of sun when you’d tried to step out for break, just to be driven back in by your too-thin jacket and the cold as balls temperature.
Now, though? It’s fucking freezing, and the flurries that the weatherman mentioned are starting to fall. And as much as you’d told Keith that your shitty two-wheel-drive couldn’t handle it, he’d insisted on scheduling you and Liz for close.
Which is where Mr. Miller comes in.
Joel Miller, your dad’s buddy. Joel Miller, the grumpiest secret-softie you’ve ever met. Joel Miller, a knight in shining armor with his 4x4 Ford F150 instead of a horse. Although, if your fantasies are correct – and you like to think they are – what’s between his thighs certainly makes up for the lack of a horse. But he isn’t bringing you for a ride on his cock. He just so happens to be the only man your dad knows with a four wheel drive vehicle, or at least the only one willing to spare you from spinning out by giving you a ride home. Just thinking about it has a knot pinching in the back of your throat. His hands, big and wide and stretching over the gear shift. One muscled arm dangling over the wheel. Looking over his goddamn shoulder to back out —
Liz hops up on the check-out counter where you’re counting up the last of the cash, a spread of Hamiltons, Grants, and Jacksons. You wouldn’t expect a girl like her to work at a hardware store, especially one in the backstreets of the seedy part of town. Some sort of family emergency had driven her back to Austin from NYU design school, which you’re thankful for. Mainly because you get out of cutting wood panels since she has the better eye for measurements, but also because after years of sulking in Keith’s, you finally have someone to talk shit with.
“Those heart eyes aren’t for fuckin’ Alexander Hamilton,” Liz says, tapping her acrylics on your ledger to get your attention. You cough, flipping her off with your pen still in-hand. Liz hums, pretending to think about it as you put down the last numbers. “Although I wouldn’t be too surprised. You do love a geriatric man.”
“Joel isn’t that old,” you scoff, arranging the bills into slim white envelopes and then licking them shut. “He’s just an… acquired taste.”
“Sure, his jizz probably tastes like prohibition-era booze–”
“What the fuck,” you wheeze, hands going out to brace yourself on the closest display case. Your head dips as your chest shakes with laughter.
Liz stays completely straight-faced as she continues, “You’ll have to have 911 on speed dial because if you clench, his heart’s giving out.”
“It is not,” you say, voice still strained with the laughs that won’t stop punching out of you.
She puts her hands up in defense and crosses her legs at the ankles. “Hey, it’s not my fault you like playing whac-a-mole with Great Depression dick.”
“Liz!” You playfully shove her off of the counter, thrusting the envelopes into her hands. “You’re nasty. Fucking nasty.”
She splays a wounded hand over her heart, fanning herself with the envelopes. “You know you love me.” She slips into the office behind the register. You hear the click of the safe before she calls over her shoulder, “Any particular reason you’re fantasizing on the clock?”
“Not fantasizing,” you refute. Liz pops out of the back with a uncertain look scrawled on her face. “My dad talked him into picking me up today so I don’t drive into a snowbank.”
“Sounds like the beginning of a shitty porno.”
“Don’t give me hope.”
“I’m just saying,” she grins. “You can still come to mine. Only a five minute walk with zero chance of rejection.”
“You have such little faith in me.”
She purses her lips. “Mkay…. Pro-tip: Keith probably has some Viagra sitting around in his desk drawers.”
“Liiiiiiiz,” you say. You’re about to tune her out completely when familiar headlights light up the wet asphalt, beaming through the windows. The engine idles, a soft rumble through the linoleum floors. The truck lights dim, leaving Joel in the buttery shine of the streetlamp. His thick arms stretch across the wheel, and he rakes one large hand through his hair. “Shit, speak of the Devil.” You clip off your nametag, tossing it into your half-open bag. “Can you finish closing tonight? I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
“No problem, no favors necessary.” She closes the register. You fumble to get your bag over your shoulder, not wanting to keep Joel waiting. “Use protection!” she calls after you, and you make sure to flip her off one more time as the door clangs shut behind you.
A wall of cold hits you like a blade of lightning. Wind unfurls, mauling telephone lines and frosted treetops, rippling your jacket. Not even the worn scarf around your neck seems to be doing its job. Suddenly, every one of your limbs feels like an icicle. Joints almost freezing up, you half-jog, half-penguin strut your way to Joel’s passenger side. You wipe the ice off of the door handle with your sleeve. A few stray flurries dust you as you tug the door open, exhaling in relief as you haul yourself onto the side steps and into the toasty warmth of the Ford F150.
You cozy up in the seat, too preoccupied by thawing your hands with long, winded breaths to notice the affronted look Joel is throwing your way. “Are you tryin’ to catch your fuckin’ death, girl?”
“No death to catch. It’s not that cold.” The way you’re shivering says otherwise. Joel pins you with the raise of his brow.
Before you know what he’s doing, he’s groaning as he reaches over the center console into the backseat. You see a flash of his trucker jacket before it lands in your lap, flannel-lined and heavy. You use it like a blanket, draping it across your torso and wrestling your hands into the inside pockets. The canvas smells like car exhaust and off-brand Dollar General deodorant, two things that are so inextricably Joel. As much as you hate to admit it, the warmth is already inking its way across your skin – or maybe it’s just being next to Joel that’s heating you up. “Thanks,” you grumble.
When you adjust in your seat, the inside of your foot catches an empty Dr. Pepper can on the floor. It rattles when you accidentally kick it forward. You lean down and pick it up, going to place it down in the cupholder, only to find it overpopulated with random Home Depot and Whataburger receipts.
“Tax deductions,” he shrugs. “Gotta eat on the job.”
“And a…” You pick up the receipt and squint at the faded typography. “$3.29 strawberry milkshake is part of that, I figure?”
Joel grunts, “Tommy’s order.”
You smirk. “Sure it is.”
“Quit shit stirrin’ and put on your fuckin’ seatbelt.”
You reach back, fingers snagging it and tugging it down. Groping for the belt between the seats and the center console, it goes on for at least five seconds too long before Joel grabs the buckle and shoves it into the slot. His fingers brush your thigh as he pulls away from you and settles his foot over the gas pedal. The singular touch shouldn’t make butterflies beat at the walls of your stomach, but it does. Everything about him does.
Now that you’re all settled in, everything about him is also settling in. The fact that he’s only wearing a tight-fitting white t-shirt now that his coat is off. His sleeves are constricting enough that his muscles bulge below the strip of fabric. Ample scruff dapples his jawline, and his hair is disheveled in the way that you’ve learned you like it. You trail your eyes down his body, his tummy, across the undone drawstrings of his dark gray sweatpants, and no, you move on quickly from there, because you refuse to get riled up in the passenger seat.
He’s slowly peeling out of Keith’s parking lot, arm thrown over the back of your seat. You’re starting to fail at your mission of not getting riled up when you see the flex of his bicep, the way his eyes meet yours as he turns to look through the back window. He turns out of the parking lot and onto the relatively barren, icy streets–
“What the hell are those?”
Joel side-eyes you, brows furrowed. He follows the line of your gaze to his feet, which you’re used to seeing in New Balances or steel-toed work boots, but are instead wearing… fur-lined crocs.
“These here? Yeah, got ‘em recently, good for my days off with all this nippy weather. Sarah told me they’re ‘all the rage’ with the youth–”
You can’t help it. You damn near double over with laughter, clutching at your stomach. Joel’s coat nearly slides off of you, but you hang onto it with your pinkie finger, quickly going dizzy from lack of air. “‘All the rage’? Oh my fucking God– Joel, she was pulling your leg. Those are fucking hideous.”
“Hey, now–” He sighs, pinching his nose bridge with the hand that isn’t dangling over the wheel. “Zip it, I don’t needa justify my shoe choices to ya.”
“Does she do anything other than give you shit these days?”
“You’re one to talk about givin’ shit, y’know,” Joel says. Unfailingly, he smiles. The smile that pulls at the edges of his lips. The smile that he only ever gets when talking about Sarah. It doesn’t matter where – loading up his plate with barbecue, your dad asking him while he’s picking up junk mail in the morning, or on the job. If someone asks him about his daughter, Joel fucking beams.
He sucks on his teeth for a second, and then, “She’s picked up soccer. Goalkeeper. Damn good at it, too, all them other kids on her team can’t match her collapse dive.”
“Of course they can’t,” you say. “She’s got better reflexes than a house fly.”
Joel hunches over the wheel, effectively ending the conversation as he concentrates on the road. The only noise is the rumbling engine and the wagging of the windshield wipers as he attempts to navigate the black ice polka-dotted roads. It shouldn’t be as arousing as it is, seeing him in such a state of focus, his thighs tensed as he manipulates the gas and brakes to stop early, start slow. His arms thickening when he makes a right turn. Thumbs drumming drumming drumming on the wheel and maybe they’d do the same between your legs—
“So how’s work?” you blurt out.
Joel mumbles something that you can’t quite make out.
“Huh?”
“Fuckin’ ‘big shot’ gringos up my ass all day. Goddamn shitshow.” He shakes his head, his lips thinned. “I tell ‘em terraforming is gonna make it look like a Flinstone-owned-and-operated putt-putt course. They say do it anyway. I tell ‘em that orderin’ custom windows is gonna put us months behind. They say do it anyway, then come up jibber-jabberin’ all ‘bout how long it’s takin’. And it’s fuckin’... window madness, not one window in that hellhole matches another. Ain’t had so much trouble buildin’ a house since Sarah had me build her one from Hobby Lobby when she was little. Their architect musta been doin’ lines.”
You think you’ve seen Sarah’s dollhouse before when visiting, just in passing when the guest bedroom door was left open a smidge. You remember stalling in the hallway to look at it, with a fleece of dust growing on the tediously placed shingles and the oakwood front door left open like it’d been waiting for someone to come home. But Sarah outgrew it, and although Joel would never admit it, you know he’s too sentimental to leave it on the curb.
“How bad can building a dollhouse from a kit be?”
“With a five year old yellin’ like a drill sergeant in your ear? Worse than you think. She even made me rig the damn thing with electric so she could have her pink chandelier.”
You pout at him, “Wah wah, I’ll bet you loved it.”
“Was a nuisance at the time. But, uh, she was fiddlin’ with some ‘a the dolls I’d gotten her. Don’t think she knew I was watchin’, had gone to put ‘er to bed ‘cause it was a school night. She was readin’ this book I always read to her. Something about… a stuffed bear with a missin’ button and a girl that was tryna to buy him. I don’t fuckin’ know–” “Corduroy?”
“Yeah, that. Anyway, she was reading, usin’ the same tone I always used with her, tucked her dolls in for the night, and switched off the lights. I don’t think I loved it until then.” There’s a glistening in his eyes at the memory.
You smirk, “Sentimental bastard–”
The truck slides. Or maybe it coasts, skimming across the thin film of black ice. Joel eases down on the brakes, hauling to a stop next to a Minivan with its warning lights on. It’s a long stretch, and you can’t even see all the way down the highway with how thick the snow is. No two snowflakes are the same, but you find it difficult to believe when you’re looking at what must be millions of them. They pirouette, landing on window panes, rooftops, and wind-agonized tree branches. Everything is blotted with white. Red warning lights glare on the ice back at you.
“Shiiit,” Joel says as he squints at the road ahead of him. He scratches at his scruff.
“Tell me you’re not going to drive through that shit.”
“I’m not,” he says.
“Then how the fuck are we getting home?”
“Chill it–” “That’s the last thing I need to do,” you huff.
“I’m takin’ the detour.”
With that, he jerks the wheel — a bit too recklessly considering the weather, in your opinion – and pulls off onto a slippery backroad. The snow seems to have clung to the trees more back here, a sort of incandescent saran wrap over the oaks. At a bend in the road, icicles hang from a yellow sign that says CURVE 30 MPH. Joel takes it at ten.
You’re not checking out his hands while he drives, no, of course not. You’re looking at the gazillion lights on his dashboard display. “You usually have that many lights on?”
“Ain’t your truck, ain’t your business.”
“I’m ridin’ in it, ain’t I?” you mock his accent. 
Joel sighs heavily. “Drivin’ me up the fuckin’ wall.” His hands clench briefly around the wheel. “Auto repair shop’s been price gouging, I’m tryin’ to get Tommy to hook me up with his buddy in San Anton–”
“Won’t be able to drive to San Antonio if your bumper falls off halfway there.”
Joel’s voice is dry as bone. “Ha ha. You get off on bein’ a smartass?”
It’s three words – that’s all it is. Just a throwaway phrase that he probably doesn’t even realize he said. If it were anything more, you’d know. But Joel, saying those words in that order? Damn him, because it turns your blood effervescent. You stop yourself from rubbing your thighs together underneath his coat. You’re about to make another quip that’ll not only distract you, but also surely drive Joel up the wall, one of your favorite activities.
His truck putters from ten miles per hour to eight.
Eight to six.
Six to four.
“Motherfuckin’.... shit,” Joel says again, this time much more urgent as he wrests the wheel to the side. The truck skims over the frosted roads and onto the shoulder, rolls for two seconds, and then falls to a complete, utter stop. The windshield wipers pause while they’re still up. Heat no longer spits out of the dusty air vents.
It’s the loudest silence you’ve ever been in.
“...So do you get off on letting your truck break down or–”
Joel sighs in the way that dogs do. “Thin ice, missy.” He unbuckles his seatbelt and pulls out his phone. “I’ll give Tommy a call.” He stares at the screen for ten seconds. Taps it. Shakes it.
“No service?” you ask.
“No service.”
“Let me try mine,” you mumble, shifting in the car seat. Sure enough, zero bars. Even though you know it won’t work, you press your dad’s contact. It goes straight to voicemail. “Well, shit.”
“Shit,” Joel echoes.
It’s unspoken, but you both know the harsh reality of this harsh wintry night: no phone service, no operational truck, and… no heater.
“Hang tight,” Joel says, reaching over the center console and hijacking his coat from your lap. He wrestles his arms through the sleeves and zips it up. He shoves the door open against the hoarse wind that keeps the trees at a slant, hops out, then slams it shut hard enough for the vehicle to rock. From how hard the wind was blowing, stray flurries dust the truck’s interior.
You can’t really see what he’s doing – the snow’s too heavy, the hood popped wide open for him to investigate the truck’s viscera. You run your hands up and down your thighs, already feeling cold. Without the heater, it won’t be much longer before you turn to an icicle in the passenger seat. The hood bangs back down.
Joel climbs in from the backseat, slams the door as hard as humanly possible, and then scoots to the middle seat. 
You crane your neck to see him as he shakes out his cold-reddened hands before puffing air into his cupped palms. “What’s wrong with it?” You ask. 
He lets out a frigid breath. “Don’t fuckin’ know, snowin’ too damn hard to tell.”
“Ten bucks it was one of the lights on your dash,” you say.
Joel glares at you, still huffing into his hands. His fingertips are bright red to match his ruddy cheeks. Snow is sprinkled through his hair like soot, quickly melting to beads of water on his windblown curls.
“Got some… hand warmers up in that glovebox. Grab the whole pack.”
You lean forward, kneeing it open and rifling through all of his shit. Insurance papers, more receipts, Miller Contracting business cards, a folded pocket knife, lens wipes, and –
“When’s the last time these saw daylight?” you huff out a laugh as you hold up a battered box of condoms. 
Turns out, snow isn’t the thing that makes Joel Miller redder than a tomato. It’s the fifteen year old, very expired condoms hiding in his glovebox.
He clears his throat and averts his eyes. “Jesus. Forgot those were in there.”
You shake the box around and pluck a condom out of it. Looking for the expiration date, you turn it over and over in your hand. “August 31st, 2004. Really that long since you got some, Miller?”
“Put ‘em back,” he grumbles. “Pain in my ass.”
You snicker, replacing the condom box with the box of hand warmers. They’re unopened, still sealed. You snatch Joel’s keys out of the ignition and swipe them across the tape. “Happy?” you toss them over your shoulder.
“No.” He tears open the pack and rubs his hands together around the warmer, sighing when it begins to heat.
“Dick,” you grumble.
More tearing. “Brat.” Another warmer lands in your lap.
“Oughta get comfortable. We’re gonna be here a while,” Joel says.
“And whose fault is that?” You ask as you weigh the warmer in your palms. The front seat already feels cramped, and you’re quick to unbuckle your seatbelt. Your legs and arms fold like pretzels as you climb into the backseat. The curse that leaves you when you hit your head on the roof has Joel rolling his eyes.
“Pipe down. First thing in the mornin’ I’ll make the walk out to that country club a mile out and use their phone. Just gotta ride out the night. You ain’t ever roughed it before?”
You fall on all fours on the backseat, finally pulling yourself upright next to him. “Never had a reason to. Like, what if I have to piss? What if I get hungry?”
Joel shrugs. “Tough.”
The cold is starting to settle into your bones. Even your tongue feels popsicle numb, and your fingers are stiff where they wrap around the warmer. It’s like you’ve been trapped in a snowglobe and shaken up by a handsy toddler with how the wind rattles the truck and the snow swishes outside. You suppress a shiver, leaning against the door. Condensation is already building on the windows. Absent-mindedly, you begin to trace a portrait of Joel in the moisture. Your fingertip squeaks against the glass. Your masterpiece wouldn’t be complete without his signature scowl, so you’re sure to paint a frown on his face and his forehead wrinkles on thick.
“Didn’t know you were an artist,” Joel comments from the opposite side of the back. “Looks nothin’ like me, by the way.”
You smirk, “But you knew it was you.”
Because there’s nothing better to do than burn time, you spend the next ten minutes filling up the window with whatever nonsense doodles come to mind — hearts, stars, trees, and of course, the only one that Joel seems to be fond of: Sarah, smiling and curly-haired.
Reality only settles in when you’re done with the ephemeral illustrations, their outlines starting to dissolve back to regular droplets that streak down the windows. You’re stuck, for God knows how long, on this shady backroad that the Zodiac Killer would’ve loved during his heyday. With your dad’s best friend that you’ve been harboring a dangerous crush on.
And it’d be impossible to forget that it’s freezing fucking balls.
“Joel?” you say into the dark truck.
“Hm?”
Always one to speak your mind, you say, “It’s freezing fucking balls.”
A sound that might be a laugh leaves him. “Here,” Joel says, unzipping his jacket. He tosses it over to you, and you snuggle back up with it, nose burrowing into one of the creases in the fabric. His coat smells like him – like cheap body wash, chewing gum, and gasoline. 
You try putting your hands in the pockets, even going as far as to open up a new hand warmer for each one, but they’re full of loose change and, expectedly, more receipts. When you curl up against the corner between the door and the seat, the hard plastic bites into your oversensitive back. Sitting upright or cross-legged doesn’t work, and when you test drive sitting diagonally with your feet propped up on the console, Joel makes a disproving noise and swats gently at your shin. You prop your forehead up against the window, but it’s cold enough to give you a brain freeze. 
“Jesus Christ,” Joel snorts. “Get over ‘ere, you wuss.” He hauls you over, big hand splayed over your waist, and drags you across the bench to his side. You yelp in surprise, but only for a second before you’re crushed against Joel’s side. “Can’t have ya gettin’ hypothermia,” he jests.
You don’t know where to put your hands, but eventually, you settle on cupping his neck. Touching Joel, hell, even just being near him, is like being by an open furnace. Or maybe the heat is just your stomach doing somersaults at being this close to Joel after years of frivolous pining. His nape emanates warmth, the kind that flows down your arms and wraps comfortingly around your chest.
Joel exhales, the tendrils of his breath curling from the frigidity. He grabs his coat from the side and flattens it over the both of you, a piss poor replacement for a blanket, but all you’ve got.
Still, cold seeps in through the cracks in the doors, spoiling whatever lukewarm air remains. It doesn’t help that Joel had hopped in and out of the truck to play eye spy under the hood. The truck struggles to hold onto heat properly, especially when it isn’t producing more of it.
Joel sort of… flickers against your back. You think nothing of it until it happens again, this time in short bursts, and then turns into full on shivering.
“Who’s the wuss now, old man?”
Joel tenses up behind you. “Funny,” he says. With your hands cushioned against his neck, you feel the grate of his voice in his throat. “This is the best you’re gonna get unless you wanna be butt ass naked to share heat.”
It should be a joke. But the way he says it… doesn’t sound like a joke.
You go still, lifeless, not even sure if you’re shaking anymore. Because now, the only thought in your head is being pressed against Joel, his soft cock hardening against you, his palms splayed and rubbing over your stomach to keep you warm. And if his cock needed to get somewhere warmer, too…. Your clit twitches at the thought.
You smother the initial shock in your voice with your usual solution: sass. “So what, we’re gonna fuckin’ huddle for warmth?”
As much as you enjoy the idea, you're already dripping — and that’s just from your body being pressed against his, breathing the same air as him, closer now than you’ve ever been before. With no panties in the way, it’s not a stretch to say you’d be dripping down his thighs. You’d hate to have that conversation.
“Would you rather freeze to death?” Joel asks. You look up at him from where you’re curled into his side and find no gleam in his eyes. This isn’t just some knee-slapper for him. Joel Miller is being completely, irreversibly serious.
“I’d rather something less like Naked and Afraid, Joel!”
“It works,” he says, nose flaring. “They do it in those fuckin’... action movies all ‘a the time.”
“I didn’t know Hollywood was writing survival manuals for pervs–”
“God, you’re a piece ‘a work, ya know that?” His eyes flick down to you, and maybe it’s just the fact that this road is damn near pitch black, but his pupils seem larger than before. “Listen, I ain’t tryna perv on ya. I also ain’t tryna send you back to your old man with four fingers missin’ from frostbite.”
There’s no way you’re actually seriously considering this. You’ve heard of cold temperatures impairing thinking, but not like this. Your dad’ll go chasing after Joel with a pitchfork and a shovel if he finds out the man who was supposed to get you home safe and sound was cuddling naked with you. Cuddling naked with you in the backseat, no less. You’re certain Joel won’t try anything – he’s not like that. No matter how flustered you get in his lap, he’d never take advantage of you. What you aren’t certain of is your ability to stop yourself from asking him t0 take advantage of you.
This is practical. It’s only supposed to be practical. He wouldn’t be suggesting something this drastic if you both weren’t shaking like a rattlesnake’s rattler.
“Fine,” you say, already unwinding your scarf from around your neck. Determined to keep some semblance of boundaries up, you add, “No peeping, Miller.”
Joel makes an exasperated sound as you once again scoot out from his coat and across the bench, working yourself out of your shoes, your cotton zip-up, and then the stiff Keith’s uniform – a blue polo and jeans. Joel’s eyes are respectfully trained on the truck’s floor mats, which you’re only just now noticing has a sun-bleached Lisa Frank sticker tacked onto it. 
Down to your bra and panties, your heart rate picks up. Your fingers are so fucking cold that it’s hard to get your bra straps out of the way so you can unclasp the damned thing, and then it falls to the floor. Your nipples harden in the face of the cold. The only thing you keep is your scarf, which do you do your best to cover your tits with. Scooping up your discarded clothes and tossing them to the front seat, you let out a shaky breath.
Fuck it.
You shimmy out of your panties and get rid of them just as quickly. When you try telling Joel you’re decent, or rather indecent, nothing comes out. Instead, you have to clear your throat with a strained,  “All good.”
“Alright,” Joel says, rustling around. You hear his crocs scrape against the mat, and then his shirt swishing over his head.
He doesn’t tell you to look away, but since it’s implied, you look out of the window. The snowy trees tremble in the wind, and you almost wince when you see a small sliver of his tanned skin reflected in the glass. His crocs clunk on the ground when he kicks them off, and you watch his criminally tight t-shirt go flying over the passenger seat. You casually grip the Jesus handle, hoping that Joel doesn’t notice your fist tightening around it when you hear him untying the drawstrings of his sweatpants. When his sweats and boxers follow the path of his shirt, breathing gets a lot harder than you remember it being.
Just an hour ago, you’d been certain that this would be nothing more than a ten minute drive. Maybe, if you were lucky, he’d call you a casual pet name that would fuel the wriggling of your hand between your thighs that night. 
The tension in the air is thicker than molasses. Each breath you take is fragile.
“I’m ready when you are,” Joel says.
Since you’re already half-naked, and since chickening out is out of the question, you inch over to Joel’s side. The air tumbles out of your lungs in one fell swoop when your bicep meets his. With some fidgeting, you bring your legs up at an angle beneath you, wrapping around his side in a way that has you feeling a little bit like a koala. You talk yourself into keeping your eyes forward and then scrub your palms across your freezing arms.
Joel, more indifferent than you think anyone else in this situation could be, abruptly casts his coat back over the both of you.
And, fuck him, he’d been right. The engulfing canvas of his coat keeps warmth trapped where it can be passed easily between the two of you. Or maybe it’s just being confined and skin-to-skin with Joel that has you heating up.
The silence is cruel – it’s much harder to make conversation about work or dollhouses or whatever the hell else when you’re naked. Only the wind’s sibilance keeps you company.
You can get used to this, you think. Drift off into a somewhat sound sleep with your head on Joel’s shoulder and hope that you don’t drool all over him or moan his name in your sleep. More embarrassing things have happened to you.
But then, as if you’re the unluckiest person alive, the temperature drops even more, and suddenly, you’re shaking like a leaf all over again. Your teeth almost clack together as you try to stammer out to Joel, “C–cold, Jesus fucking… Christ that’s cold.”
Joel pouts down at you, but you don’t miss the way his lip quivers. “Should I call the wambulance?”
“Should I call the r–r–r–retirement home to pi…pick up a ru–runaway resident?” It sounded a lot better in your head than bouncing off of your frozen tongue, you have to admit.
“Drama queen,” Joel mutters into your ear. “Can’t do anythin’ more about it. Sorry–”
“Can I sit on your lap?” you blurt out so quickly that you don’t even have time to think about it. You grimace, partially covering your face with your hands. Shit.
Joel’s eyes widen. “Excuse me?”
You’re already half doomed. Why not go all the way? “Listen, it’s just fucking… fucking freezing, Joel. Holy shit.”
“That bad?” he chokes out.
“You’d be warmer than the seats,” you defend. “I’ll be careful, I promise. Best behavior.”
Joel seems to ponder it for a moment, brows stitched together while he looks down at you from where you’re furled up against his side. He gnaws on the inside of his cheek before giving you a slight nod. “Alright.” You nod in return, heart in your throat. “–But you better mean it when you say best behavior. Can’t have any ‘a this shit gettin’ back to your dad.”
Another nod. You hold your breath as you shinny your way onto Joel’s lap, mounting him from the front so his chest hits your back. In your attempt to get comfortable, you bracket your legs around his. His soft cock fits at the small of your back, and even though he’s as flaccid as can be, he’s big. Apparently your imagination isn’t too far off. Joel’s sharp intake of breath forms a pit in your stomach, and you know when you’re warming up for an entirely different reason than close proximity, you also know that you need to calm yourself down. Fast.
Think of something awful. Like that time that you had to dissect cow eyes in sophomore year biology. Think about mold. How many murderers you’ll walk by in your lifetime. Expired leftovers. Anything–
You adjust yourself in an attempt to get away from Joel’s cock. Instead, your hips move just so his cock slips between your thighs and bobs against your slit.
You whine.
Your body immediately locks up once you realize what you’ve done. Crawling out of the truck to die a hypothermia-induced death seems like a much kinder fate than facing Joel, but no matter how much you scream at yourself to reach out and unlock the door, your hands refuse to move. You hadn’t noticed how wet you’d gotten, and you have no idea how. It’s smeared across your thighs, and now pressed up against your back after Joel’s dick had dragged through it all.
Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit–
Chancing a look over your shoulder, you’re surprised to find the tips of Joel’s ears flushed, cheeks cherry ripe. His Adam’s apple bobs when you meet his eyes. Holy fuck.
You’ve flustered him.
For some reason, the thought makes your chest a lot lighter. You look away nonetheless, but this time, with a newfound gleam in your eye. There’s no such thing as a bad accident, right?
Maybe Liz was right about having to call 911, because when you ‘accidentally’ repeat the movement, Joel stops breathing all together. His cock, almost hard now, you’ve noticed, bumps against your clit. You almost swallow your tongue trying to keep your moan down.
“The fuck you think you’re doin’?” he asks, his gruff voice scratching at your ears.
“I didn’t mean to,” you lie straight through your teeth, a smug little grin spreading on your face. Something about his semi-hard cock between your bodies tells you he’s going to say no to your next suggestion. “Maybe you should put the coat between us, instea–”
“Are you outta your fuckin’ mind, girl?” Joel’s voice comes out raspy. He shakes his head, clears his throat. The vibrations rumble up your spine. “And take away the whole point of stayin’ warm? Now quit it. Ain’t that hard to sit still.”
You try your hand at listening – for all of two seconds.
You hike your hips up, fumbling with his coat as you slot his cock against your slit once more, pushing yourself forward. The coat slides right off of you, falling in a dark lump on the floor. Neither of you care — you’re both too heated for the lack of cover to make a damn difference. Joel hisses, a sound like water hitting an open flame. His hands fly down to your waist, anchoring you to his lap. A surprised noise squeaks out of you.
“What, you got rocks rattlin’ around in your brain?” Joel scowls. “You’re real impolite for a cocktease, sweetheart.”
Butterflies flap around in your stomach from his words. It’s enough to make your head tip against his chest so you can look up at him, lips shaped in a perfect pout. “I’m not,” you say.
“Not a cocktease, huh? Not even when you’re rubbin’ all over my lap?”
You gasp as your hands fly down to cover Joel’s, nails etching into where his fingers meet your bare skin. You tug at his wrist, trying desperately to guide him where you so desperately need him.
“Not happenin’,” Joel grunts, yanking your hands behind you and pinning them to your waist like you’re nothing more than a poseable doll. His large, work-worn hands make yours look damn near miniature as he holds you down. The sudden roughness douses your inner thighs with a new wave of wetness. “Jesus, girl. Poor thing, gettin’ all hot and bothered. Don’t blame ya for tryna get me to help out. Can feel ya dripping down my legs, gushin’ like a sprinkler.”
“S–sorry, fuck, ‘m sorry,” you whisper, words sticky with your arousal. Your clit twitches from his words, embarrassment and need doing all the work to keep you warm.
“Nahhh,” he says. “I don’t think you are, baby.” Maybe it’s the condescension he’s purring in your ear, maybe it’s the pet name; most likely, it’s a combination of both that has you convulsing in his lap. It’s like he’s found all of the right buttons to press to get you riled up, getting you back for all of your snide comments earlier. 
His fingers find the fabric of your scarf, luring it off of your neck so he can cord it around your wrists. You squirm when you realize what he’s doing, and a breathless huff of his laughter brushes your cheek. “I’ll be damned if you ain’t gonna be, though.” He draws it tight, tight enough for you to feel your pulses bumping into each other. Joel leaves a fair amount of your unreasonably long scarf loose.
“Joel, what the fuck are you up to?”
“Teachin’ you some sweet southern belle etiquette, darlin’. Such a goddamn troublemaker, grindin’ on me like I’m some kinda… frat boy.” He shakes his head, disbelieving. “Pullin’ that shit with your pops’ friend. Real fuckin’ classy.”
“Like you’re so different. Who’s the one that’s tying me up? Huh, Mil–”
You hear the hit well before you feel it, a firm whack to your cunt that makes your vision blacken and electricity scurrying up your spine. It takes you a second to come back to yourself before a ragged cry pulls its way out of your lips. You jolt in his lap, bound arms bobbing in front of you as your body instinctively lurches for control. You damn near kick your feet, accidentally ricocheting yourself into Joel’s chest. His forearms hold you there. 
“Guess I’ll make it crystal clear for ya, baby, since that dumb lil’ head ‘a yours is havin’ some trouble. My truck, my rules. You’re ridin’ in it, ain’t you?” You nod reluctantly as he turns your words from earlier in his favor. “That was a warnin’, you showoff. Think you can bat your slutty ‘fuck me’ eyes an’ get away with murder.” He fucking tsks at you.
He pulls his hand away from your pussy, and you’re both surprised and not surprised at all to see it covered in your arousal, webbed between his calloused fingers. 
“Got a whole goddamn slip ‘n slide down here…” murmurs Joel. You whine, bucking your hips against him. “Oughta just…” he starts, nudging his cock towards your hole. The noise you make is pathetic. “Stop ya from ruinin’ my seats. Cork you right up.” You tense up, fully expecting the intrusion, but his dick passes your cunt right up, instead sliding up to meet your clit. It taps against your swollen nub, and if his goal was to stop you from ruining his seats, you’re certain he’s already failed with how quickly you gush all over the upholstery.
“But that’d be real nice, wouldn’t it? Givin’ ya what ya want so early on…” Instead of pulling away like you expect, Joel griiiinds the head of his cock against your clit. You moan helplessly, head falling back across his shoulder.
And then he does it again.
And again.
And agai–
“Joooooel,” you whine, knees jerking each time his tip meets your most sensitive spot. Heat spins in your stomach.
He backs his hips up “What? Thought you loved this with how much you were gettin’ at it earlier.”
You shake your head rapidly in the negative, chest rising and falling at a breakneck pace while he teases you.
“So you can deal, but you can’t play?”
“I think you’re just taking your sweet old time getting it up, old man,” you grit out, knowing damn well he’s stiffer than titanium behind you.
Joel hums. “Ah, she’s got jokes.” His cock slips back, quickly replaced by his hand engulfing your mound. Your clit twitches ever so slightly against his palm lines, and you’re almost convinced you could get off from that alone. His palm cracks against your cunt again, somehow even harder than the first time. You cry out, eyes burning from arousal and the slightest edge of pain.
With his thumbpad, he taps your clit like he’s just scrolling through the cable guide with a remote. Fleeting movements that have you wanting more more more. It heals the sting of his slap even if the echo of the hit still simmers in your stomach. Your cunt throbs so hard that it hurts, jumping up to meet Joel’s scarce ministrations.
When he retracts his hand, your hips chase the movement. “See this?” he taunts, fluttering his wet fingers in front of your face. You make a choked noise when his drenched middle finger breaches your lips. He doesn’t even need to tell you; you latch on and suck yourself off of his calloused skin. You’re mostly salty, but a little sweet, and tasting yourself on your own tongue by his insistence manages to make you even wetter.
Joel takes his spare fingers, just as soaked, and smears them all around your chin and lower cheeks. He presses down on your tongue as he does. You gag from the pressure, and you can’t hear his laugh over the roaring of your blood in your ears, but you feel it rattle his chest where it meets your spine. Your slick cools quickly against your burning skin, syrupy as it clings to your face. “Need a bib, baby?”
He pulls his finger from your mouth with a pop and your scarf-wrapped hands spring to wipe yourself from your lips, hoping to save yourself from the humiliation of having your own pussy juice anointing your face. You only scoop up a little before Joel lowers his forearm over yours, but for once, you’re faster than him. You swipe your wet hand over his mouth, smudging as much as you can along the scruff surrounding his mouth.
He wraps a burly hand in the scarf and yanks your hands back into place. All you can do in response is giggle, but the breath is swiftly knocked out of you when he drives his cock right into your clit. “Think you’re funny, don’t ya?” He asks, and finally grunts as he rolls his hip into you. A break in his resolve, a sign that he wants this, or at least the discipline of this, as badly as you do.
You almost weep from the pressure, that rope of pleasure in your stomach that he keeps knotting tighter and tighter and tighter with each stroke of his cock, his fingers. “Joel!” you cry out as he follows it up with another firm swat to your clit. His cock spreads your folds as he softens the bashing, nuzzling his tip against your spasming cunt.
“Really, oughta give standup a go one ‘a these days. Be a real hotshot.”
“Oh yeah?” you pant, light headed and woozy.
“Mhm. If the whole crowd’s drunk.” His cock nudges your nub with a new vigor.
“Assh–”
Right as you’re about to press down and follow the sensation, Joel senses it. His cock gives way through your cheeks, just in time for him to land a ruthless slap across your pussy. It’s harder than the others – makes your ears ring for a second, gives you a sort of visual snow that has you doubling over and gripping at the closest object for purchase, which just so happens to be the metal rods coming out of the headrest. 
“Ain’t what you should be sayin’ if you’re plannin’ on gettin’ what you want, sugar,” Joel tuts. He shakes his head at you. “Don’t wanna hear no lip from ya, girl.”
You open your mouth, argument on the tip of your drool-loaded tongue, but your halfhearted attempt at defiance doesn’t last long. Joel’s hand clamps around your chin, denting your skin into your teeth. He jerks your head to face him, knocking you down a peg with scathing eye contact. “You’re pushin’ it.” He loosens his grip.
“As if, Miller. If those pre-Cold War condoms are anything to go by, you’ve been dying for a chance to get your dick wet. Doesn’t matter how much lip I give you, you aren’t gonna blue ball yourself for much longer.” Satisfied, you raise your brows at him.
Turns out, he is going to blue ball himself for much longer, because he lands six slaps in rapid succession across your sopping cunt. The skin smarts, and you cry out. Your grip tightens around the headrest rod to the point of strangling it. Your eyes water, and you can’t tell if you’re crying. Too consumed by Joel, everything has melted into him – the smell of sawdust perpetually sewn into his skin, his cock sealed against your body.
“How many times are ya gonna poke the bear before you learn your lesson, you cheeky little shit?” Joel’s palm cups the inside of your right thigh, just above the knee. He traces circles with his thumb, and heat trails after him with everywhere he touches. “See, the thing about havin’ ‘pre-Cold War condoms’ is that I’ve had a helluva lot more time to learn self control than you. Can wait as loooooong as it takes for you to get your head on right. Don’t matter if you’re waterfallin’ down my seats or not, pretty girl. I’m giving you exactly what ya deserve.”
You whimper, trying (and failing) to get your magma hot core closer to Joel’s unfairly large hand, still splayed out on your inner thigh. You can’t stop how you squirm in his lap, smearing your arousal everywhere with each movement you make.
At a snail’s pace, his hand begins to inch up your leg. Joel pauses to grope at you as his hand travels upward. Handfuls of your skin, rubbing at your scalding hot thighs. Your patience is wearing thin by the time he gets midway there. You need him to touch you. And that’s just the tip of this impossibly destructive iceberg.
You shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t have let him go down this shitty backroad, shouldn’t have agreed to your dad’s ridiculous idea of Joel picking you up, shouldn’t have asked to be naked on his lap, shouldn’t have gotten naked on his lap, shouldn’t be leaking like a twenty-year-old pipe in a building he’d been hired to renovate. If your dad ever finds out–
“Joel, please, please – plea…” you trail off, dissolving into incoherent whimpers as his hand hovers over your cunt. You’re running hotter than a radiator now, and if you both wanted to be warm, then you’ve got your wish. Although mostly gibberish, Joel has to understand what you want from him. It’s just that the bastard is unwilling to provide.
Joel reaches down to pinch your clit, and your body can’t even discern from pleasure and pain anymore. You react the same to it all, back arching as you try desperately to plant yourself on his cock. “Shhh, shhh, quit runnin’ your filthy mouth. Only gonna get yourself into more trouble.”
You swear you hear angels singing, swear you see the pearly gates when he gives your clit a merciful rub. Melting into him, you exhale shakily.
“See? All nice ‘n quiet when she’s gettin’ what she wants.” You wouldn’t even dream of mouthing off to him now.
“I want – I need…” you gasp out, putty in his hands. Moldable to his liking. Everything you’d pretended not to want.
“Go on,” he coos. “Tell daddy what you need.”
You don’t even hear him say that word. You’re too hooked on begging, begging, begging. “Please – Joel, oh god, please – I need… I need… please please please, fuck, it hurts–”
Joel clicks his tongue. “Nuh uh. Start over. Always such a chatterbox ‘cept for when I need ya to be.”
“Wha…?” you ask, admittedly dazed from the harsh treatment that you’ve come to crave more of.
“Tell daddy what you need,” he repeats, words molasses slow.
You clench, gushing even more all over him. Shit, your next paycheck might have to go to replacing the goddamn seats if you keep up like this.
“D–D… D-” you start stammering out, but you’ve lost autonomy over your body long ago, and apparently that goes for your tongue, too. “Da– Da… pl–”
“Any day now,” he scoffs.
“Daddy!” you spit out all at once. “Please, please, daddy, fuck – fuck me, daddy, please, I want your cock, daddy. Feels so fucking big. Need it daddy, it hurts… please, ngh– daddy!” Tears are burning the corners of your eyes, fueled almost entirely by arousal and partially by frustration. You squirm, cunt crying all over the place. 
“M’kay, baby,” he says. Running a hand down your chest and squeezing your nipple on the way down. He slides his hand down your stomach to cup your mound, giving your clit slow, gentle circles. Your hips jump forward, and this time, he doesn’t stop you. “Daddy’s got ya.”
At the first intrusion of his middle finger in your cunt, you jump. It’s a lot compared to what he’s been giving you, but nowhere near enough. A second finger slips inside. He doesn’t have to do much work to stretch you out — you’ve been seeping out of you since you first got on his lap. He’s all too quick thrusting them in and out of you – the messy squelch of your pussy filling the backseat has you burying your chin against your chest, averting your eyes. The heel of his palm bumps persistently at your clit with each shift of his fingers inside of you.
“I know you ain’t a virgin, but you’re soakin’ like one. Too damn cocksure to ain’t have had a cock in ya before. Prancin’ around like a glorified dick trap.” You inhale sharply when his fingers scrape that spongy spot inside of you that you can never reach yourself. A moan rips out of you. The combination of him talking down to you and rubbing your g-spot has you dangerously close to cumming. Your moan is quickly swallowed up by more of Joel’s condescension. 
He starts mumbling to himself then, obscenities that make you clench even tighter around his fingers. “Gonna get you all sore baby, make you regret beggin’ for this dick like a horny ‘lil bitch that ain’t ever been laid in her life. Fuck you so hard you’ll be cryin’ for daddy’s cock up your ass instead, turn you into an anal slut, too.” He’s too busy listening to himself talk, too absorbed in his own world to feel you balancing on that razor-thin edge.
The noise you make is inhuman. You pulse around him, doing your best to stave off your impending release. “Daddy–” you warn, but he cuts you off then, too. Joel grinds his cock between your ass cheeks, his precum dripping down your slit to meet your trembling cunt. 
“Ever been fucked here before baby?” He swipes his tip along your asshole, and the way you shudder is answer enough for him. “Don’t get all jumpy, sweetheart. Ain’t gonna fuck ya there right now. Be cruisin’ for a bruisin��.” Still, he replaces his tip with his free hand’s thumb, simply rubbing at the ring of muscle. You fidget in his lap without an end-goal. You just want to be close to him, want to take everything he’s willing to give you. His fingers hook just right inside of you. “Would love to be the first to unlock this pretty backdoor. If this tight ‘lil pussy’s anything to go by… Christ. You’d look so pretty squirmin with my cock in your ass, baby–”
“Daddy!” You scream as your orgasm guts you. His fingers and his voice rip your climax right out of you and your cum streams down your inner thighs and Joel’s hand, still smacking against your clit with each thrust. Your cunt spasms around his flexing fingers. He has to fold an arm over your chest to keep you from sliding off his slippery lap entirely.
All the way through the aftershocks that make your limbs quake, Joel holds you upright against his body, still bumping his palm and fingertips against your clit and g-spot. You swear you can feel him smiling against your shoulder.
“Didn’t tell ya you could cum, darlin’,” Joel murmurs, flicking his cum covered finger across your clit. You wince in overstimulation, a whine catching in your throat.
“‘M sorry, daddy,” you pant. His hands go up to 
“‘S okay, babygirl. Pretty pussy couldn’t help it when I was talkin’ ‘bout fuckin’ your ass, huh?” His hands rove up your stomach to play with your tits, palming and stroking, getting his hands all over every carnal part of you.
You hum into his bicep, “Mmmm.”
“That’s alright. Don’t mean you’re gettin’ away with a slap on the wrist though. C’mon, up,” he guides with a small slap to your thigh. You adjust, bringing yourself onto your knees so he can enter you from behind. You look down at his sturdy thighs, flexing as he adjusts himself between your legs. He gives you one more teasing thrust through your thighs, poking your oversensitive clit one more time before reaching down to spread your folds.
You moan as he presses against your entrance, and it’s not the best time to have a come to Jesus moment, but – Joel’s size was in no way over exaggerated between your legs. You stiffen in realization, and Joel, attentive as always, notices. He guides your chin to face him and nuzzles his nose up against yours, mouth tracing down to your lips. Your breath mingles, stagnant in the long-forgotten chill. A cushion of softness against all of his spiky edges that showed up tonight. “You’re on top, baby. Take it as slow or as fast as ya want.”
Nodding at the reminder, you find yourself that you don’t want to take it slow. You want to be as sore as he’d promised, want to feel him for days and be reminded of this every time you look at the winter morning’s frost on the shingles outside.
Sinking down over his throbbing length yanks the air out of your lungs as you seat yourself with him bottoming out and going balls deep in your cunt simultaneously. He grunts against you in surprise, softening the blow of your heady moan. “Attagirl,” he huffs into the crease between your neck and shoulder. It’s a stretch, searing up your thighs and to your lower back. You’re brought back to yourself when Joel rolls his hips into you, making the pain liquefy into mind-numbing pleasure. You spend thirty seconds waiting for him to fuck up into you in a way that changes your philosophy around the world, but instead, he’s still and solid inside of you.
“Go on,” Joel coaxes, placing a steady hand just shy of your mound. “Gotta prove you deserve to cum again.” He taps your thigh as if he’s telling you to giddy up, and the shame warms the back of your neck better than any heater ever could.
You whimper. His hands coast up your thighs, squeezing your hips tight before falling to grip the seats below. You’re still weak from your last orgasm, shaky legs struggling to hold yourself up as it is. “Daddy… I can’t…” 
“Ain’t no different than fuckin’ y’self on that vibrator or dildo or whatever the fuck’s in your nightstand. Girl like you, gotta have a wimpy ‘lil fucktoy somewhere.” His words make you clench around him, and he groans into your neck. Joel looks up at the front window, now covered in snowflakes. He smirks when he spots the rearview mirror. “Oughta make you watch yourself. Show a pathetic, cockstarved slut what happens when she bites off more than she can chew.” At that, you mewl, grinding yourself down. The chuckle he lets out is lined with cruelty.
Joel pins you to his chest with one burly arm and leans forward with a hash of grunts from effort. He reaches out towards the rearview mirror, lowering it to face the middle seat that you’re both braced on. He sinks back quickly, and it almost gives you whiplash before you make eye contact with yourself. You can see everything. Tremors travel up your legs and into your arms. Your body is getting freezer burn from how cold and hot you are at the same time. Pleasured tears threaten to spill over your waterline. Joel’s smug fucking face as he murmurs endlessly at you. 
Your mouth is parted as you take yourself in, truly a pathetic, pretty little picture as you pant. “C’mon,” Joel coaxes, squeezing your ass. “You can do it. Make daddy proud. I’ll even give you a boost.” Joel reaches to your tied hands and quickly undoes the scarf, letting it drop to the floor. You flex your fingers and then reach out for the chairs ahead to get a good grip.
You prop yourself up on your knees, anchoring yourself to the two chairs in front of you. Using a combination of your upper and lower body strength, you rise halfway off of Joel’s cock before your body gives out. His balls slap wetly against your clit. He laughs, still not touching you at all. Your head flops forward as you look down to where the two of you meet, and then at the mirror where his cock is buried deep inside of you. You whine in dismay.
He wasn’t lying when he said he was going to get you sore. You can only moan. It’s pleasure like you’ve never had it before – too much, not enough, painful, so good. “Please, Joel – I can’t… can’t handle it.”
“I’ll decide what you can handle,” he says.
“You’re– you’re so fucking mean,” you rasp.
“Gets you this soaked, baby. Don’t see your pussy complainin’. You love bein’ treated like a piece ‘a meat. Like a little fleshlight for men to fuck.”
You clench, tight. “Ah!” Joel fucking sniggers behind you, but a rush of confidence spills through you at the underlying moan in his throat.
Determined to get what you want, you tighten your grip on the front seats. Haul yourself up, almost so that the tip slips right out, and then collapse back onto Joel’s cock. And, shit, it’s a lot. You doubt you could handle his cock in missionary, but being made to ride him in such a compromising position, sprawled out across his shitty backseat? That’s an entirely different animal, one that you hadn’t expected to have to handle.
You focus on doing just enough to please him and just enough to keep yourself intact. You repeat your movements two or three times, rising and falling. Little moans and whimpers, some pained, some good when he nudges your g-spot just right, slip in and out of you.
“Mmmm, yeah, that’s it. Daddy’s ‘lil wannabe pocket pussy. Doin’ a ‘lil better baby. Keep doin’ that. Jus’ keep doin’ that.”
You’re shaking like a leaf on his cock as you somehow manage to lift yourself another time before fucking back on him. “Daaaddy.” Your lips quiver as you form the word. A single tear runs down your face from overexertion, and he’s quick to wipe it up with his thumb as if it was never there. You look truly whorish and pathetic, just like he’d wanted, bouncing on his cock with the last of the energy you have left in you.
His tip jabs against that goddamn spot again, and you double over on the center console. You take heaving breaths, making eye contact with yourself in the mirror, desperate to please as you attempt to keep humping him with the change in angle. You’re letting out strings of disoriented words, but barely can tell that you’re talking.
“I fuck you dumb already? Slutty little girl. Told ya you were in for it. Ain’t ever had much of a knack for listenin’. Gonna dick you down now, sweet girl.” He drags your legs into the crook of his elbows, holding you upright for him as he shifts to his knees between your legs. Braced on the center console with your pussy settled on his cock, the new angle makes you cry out. You hold yourself up on your elbows, giving shallow rolls of your hips in return as Joel gets settled inside of you.
The first thrust makes your eyes roll back so far that you see black. “Feel good?”
“So… so fu–fucking goo… good daddy,” you whimper into the console, gripping the sides of it just so you have something to hold onto.
“Swallowin’ daddy’s dick whole in this greedy cunt. Goddamn, drippin’ down my fuckin’ balls. Such a masochistic slut, all after a poundin’ from an old man. All up in a tizzy for this cock.”
You moan your agreement, completely submissive to Joel’s wills. You move like a ragdoll for him, letting him yank you back on his cock while he meets you there, thrust for thrust. He pulls out, a small mercy, but when he sheathes himself back inside of you in full, it’s the beginning of a punishing pace.
You don’t even notice yourself drooling all over the console until Joel says something about it. “Droolin’ from two places. Yeah, baby, you needed this. Daddy’s pretty cockslut.” You whine especially loudly when Joel drags you back across the console, damn near fast enough to give your stomach rugburn. 
Hands framing your spread legs, Joel hooks them both around his torso, using the leverage to plow into you. You’re boneless beneath him, mouth frozen in silent moans. His hips meet your ass with each shove of his cock in your sloppy cunt, the obscene sound of slap after slap pealing out within the truck. “Damn lucky we’re in the middle of nowhere,” Joel growls on another thrust. “Someone woulda been knockin’ on the window long time ago with how loud you’re bein’.”
“Mmph,” you gasp when Joel tosses one of your legs up and over the passenger seat. You hold yourself there as he digs his fingers into your other thigh, shifting his spare hand to your mound.
“Daddy please please please plea–” you start panting like a broken record, desperate to feel his hand on your clit, which throbs with inattention on the console. You grind frantically on the edge just in case he denies you again. 
Joel laughs above you, fully smudging two fingers across your clit in a blur of indescribable pleasure. “Ain’t gonna make ya beg this time. Can’t wait to feel ya creamin’ ‘round me… maybe I’ll make ya lick that up too. Nasty bitch.”
“Joooel, oh fuck, please…” you whine as he continues railing you, this time fiercely tweaking your clit in-time with his movements.
The new position has his thrusts meeting your cervix, and you scream, pleasure corkscrewing through your body. There’s nowhere for all of it to go with how viciously it burns in your stomach – all you can do is take it and whine for him. “Takin’ it real good. See what happens when ya behave? You get this fat cock splittin’ your whore cunt in two, jus’ like you were askin’ for.”
He grips your hip tight, clearly expecting an answer. You slur, “Mhm, daddy!”
Joel rubs faster circles around your clit, spouting filth while he drills your pussy. You can tell he’s chasing his own release, too, hips frantically fucking in and out of you, his cock twitching every single time you clench. You’re burning up as he jackhammers your pussy. Your second orgasm of the night brims low in your stomach, “Come on, baby, know you’re close. Feel this slutty pussy squeezin’ me. You gonna ask permission like a good girl this time, or are ya gonna go back to your defiant little slut self?”
“No, daddy,” you whimper, suspended in thin air over orgasmic bliss. He’s rubbing your clit erratically, doing everything he can to hold you in place. “P-please daddy, can I come?” You practically scream it out.
“Go ahead,” he says. “Come for daddy’s, come allll over daddy’s cock.”
The band snaps. Your back arches, and you feel time stop in the second before you fall slack on the console, spasming from the best orgasm of your fucking life. Your clit feels like there’s fucking pop rocks on it, something that not even your vibrator has ever achieved. “Thank you daddy!” you cry out, repeating it as you lose all feeling in your bones. You hardly have any control over your body anymore – it’s just Joel Joel Joel Joel. Sated and weary, you just lay there, letting Joel fuck into you.
And fuck into you he does – roughly, helping you ride out your orgasm as he pursues his. “That’s my girl,” he says, and you swear that alone could make you cum all over again. “Lettin’ your daddy use this juicy, well-fucked cunt to get his own.” He can’t hold back his moans, that’s how you know he’s close, grunting and gasping as he rocks his hips into yours. His hand lands on your ass in a sharp smack, and your pussy clenches in exactly the way that he expected. He lets out a particularly ragged noise, folding himself over you to nip at your neck and rest his forehead against your shoulder blade. “Daddy’s close, where do ya want me, baby?”
“Tits,” you whine. It’s a miracle you can even get that one word out, but somehow, you manage a few more. “Come on my tits, daddy.”
“Fuck!” Joel shouts, yanking himself over you. You help him roll yourself over and sit up on your elbows, and he jerks himself once, twice, before spraying his load all over your tits with the loudest groan yet. His brows fold together as he cums, eyes drooping and his mouth parted as he takes deep breaths.
You sit there for a handful of heavy minutes, listening to each other’s jagged breathing and the sawtoothed wind outside. You’re both so fucked. Literally, and figuratively. Stuck in the buttfuck middle of nowhere, you with your dad’s proclaimed bestie’s cum drying on your tits, and said bestie staring at you with post-coital puppy dog eyes and your cum all over his balls.
You’re the first to speak up, still winded. “That was… that was good.”
Joel nods mindlessly, tongue swiping out to lick his lips. He beckons you closer, and on trembling legs, you bring yourself to the backseat. You return to your previous position, huddled up and curled next to the door. Joel fumbles around under the back bench for a little until he comes up with a small, sunbleached pack of princess-themed pocket tissues that have to be as old as Sarah is. He dabs at your chest before stuffing them into the closest empty cupholder, and then brings you closer to his chest.
You don’t notice yourself falling asleep when all you can feel is Joel.
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There’s better ways to wake up than a furious rapping on the window, but that isn’t the first thing you notice. You blink your eyes open groggily, only to face an egg yolk sun cracking wide open over the treeline and snowmelt bleeding out from every given surface. Joel’s behind you, nose in your neck, snoring softly with his arms wrapped around your middle. You take a moment to admire him – his sun kissed skin and his peaceful expression. It takes you a moment to remember you slept with him. You slept with Joel, and it was the best fuck of your life.
You’re stretching, on the verge of a yawn, when you see the familiar head of black hair over the window. “Shit!” you shout. Joel jerks to life behind you, mumbling something that sounds a lot like ‘what?’. 
You scramble to pull the coat over the both of you from where it fell off of you in the middle of the night, covering your naked bodies. “Get dressed!” you hiss to Joel, searching for wherever the fuck your panties ended up last night.
“What the hell’s gotten into ya–” he starts, and you feel the exact moment that he realizes Tommy Miller is outside of the truck. “Motherfucker,” he curses, swaying towards the front seat to snag his clothes. You see him almost put his head through his T-shirt armhole three times before he gets it right. His sweatpants are next, which he tugs up his bare legs without even searching for his boxers.
“Joel?” Tommy shouts outside. “Wake up, sleepin’ beauty!” He knocks on the door again, the windows blurry from melting snow. You have that to thank, at least. It buys you enough time to tug your polo over your head, but not enough time to button it all the way up.
“Fuckin’... dumbass,” Joel huffs as he clips the lock on the door and kicks it open, looking at least somewhat composed. You take deep breaths, looking between the two of them. “How’d you find us?”
Tommy looks Joel up and down, scrutinizing him. “What happened to southern gentleman manners? I came out here to save ya from Mt. Everest, brother! Least you could say is ‘thank you’.”
“Thank you,” you fill in for Joel, even if the last thing you’re feeling is grateful.
“Her daddy threw a hissy fit, y’know? Told him you were fine and we’d go lookin’ for ya in the mornin’. We saw all that backup on the highway, I went this way, he went that way, turns out my gut was right. ‘Course my dumbass brother would take this route… hey, you’re truck’s a fuckin’ mess.” Tommy sinks his hand into the closest cupholder, pulling out a wad of tissues that have been soaked in his cum. You hiss as if you’ve been scalded with boiling hot water.
Joel starts, “Tommy–”
“What the fuck is this shit?” The realization seems to dawn on poor Tommy when he’s peeling apart the tissues, and he drops them like they’re a thousand pounds. You can’t even bring yourself to scold him for littering as the wind carries them away. “Joel. You dirty dog!” He says, eyes flitting between the two of you like it’s the most impossible thing in the world.
Your heart picks up to a speed that can rival most NASCAR drivers and your face burns like hot asphalt. You look pointedly down at the ground.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Joel seethes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Get outta here, you little shit.”
Tommy’s hands go up. “Hey now, I ain’t doin’ anything. That is not a conversation I wanna have with her daddy.” He clears his throat, effectively clearing the air along with it. “So, uh, truck break down?” Joel grunts in affirmation.
“Been tellin’ ya you need to make a stop at the auto shop… C’mon, I’ll get y'all home,” Tommy says, jingling the keys to his own truck. “Call a tow on the way.”
Joel drags his feet all the way to Tommy’s passenger side. You get your wallet and jacket together, winding the latter around your waist. The sun almost blinds you on your way out, and Tommy stops you.
“I hope you didn’t let ‘im stick it to ya with them prehistoric condoms. You’re smarter ‘n that.”
“God, no,” you huff out.
“I dunno what’s stupider, lettin’ my asshole brother hit it raw or gettin’ a UTI–”
“Okay!” you announce, hands going up as you round the back of Tommy’s truck. “Conversation over.” You’re still smiling playfully at Tommy as you clamber into the back of the truck, sighing when the air conditioner hits.
Just like that, back to the same old same old sunny, shithole state of Texas. Joel looks at you in the rearview mirror and winks at you. You guess not everything has to stay the same these days.
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alltheirdamn · 26 days
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DECLINED | Mechanic!Joel x f!reader
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Summary: You're on a cross-country road trip when your tires blow, and you're forced to get them fixed at a small town mechanic shop. When your card declines, you only have one other option to get your car back. Rating: 18+ Explicit Word Count: 3k Warnings: Pre-outbreak AU, mechanic!joel, sex for favors, oral sex (f + m receiving), blowjob, deepthroating, cum eating, fingering, squirting, semi-public sex, unprotected piv sex, size kink, creampie, dirty talk, pet names, joel being a disgustingly nice gentleman, porn with absolutely no plot A/N: I saw this gif float across my pinterest and had a terribly fun idea... so here it is. Enjoy a lil fun ;)
PART 2 | Masterlist | Ko-fi
“S’all fixed up now,” Joel said, walking into the waiting room.
You had been waiting a few hours to have your alignment fixed and tires replaced, and now you could finally breathe a sigh of relief. You were on your way through the small town headed east towards Tallahassee when both of your back tires blew out on the highway. You were lucky not to cause a crash and thankfully found a local mechanic shop only half a mile off the road. 
“Thank you so much,” you exhaled as you stood up and stretched your legs.
Joel rounded the counter to the register, typing up the work order to charge you out. Wallet in hand, you waited for the cost, praying it wouldn’t make a dent in your bank account. You only budgeted so much for the road trip, and this definitely wasn’t in the budget.
“Alright, ma’am, lookin’ like it’s gonna be around $500 for everything. Shaved some off just for the hassle you been through,” Joel smiled.
Shit.
“Uh, okay. Great.”
You reluctantly handed over your card, praying it would be enough. Joel swiped it on his machine followed by a loud beep that clearly meant DECLINED. You let out a shaky breath, fishing through your wallet for another card.
“Shit, try this one,” you said.
Joel nodded, his brows furrowing a bit when it also beeped in the same tone. He slid your card across the table, cocking a brow as if to ask, ‘Got another one?’
“Fuck,” you laughed nervously. “Okay, how ‘bout this one?”
Another card. Another decline. How the fuck were you going to get out of town now?
“Sorry, ma’am,” Joel sighed. “No payment means no car ‘m afraid.”
You ran your hand through your hair in frustration, trying to come up with something. Glancing up at him, you took in his broad frame covered by a simple black t-shirt that seemed to hug the planes of his chest perfectly. You hadn’t even noticed the patchy beard or kind grin that he donned so well earlier. Maybe…
“Look, I gotta get out of here tonight,” you pleaded. “Is there anything I can do to just get my car?”
Joel crossed his arms over his chest, his biceps looking much bigger in that position. With a frown turning down his lips, he shook his head.
“Afraid not, ma’am.”
“Anything? Please, I'm begging you.”
He considered you a moment, his eyes raking over your figure. You felt your cheeks warm at that look, knowing what he might be insinuating. If that’s what it took to get your car and get the fuck out of this town, then why not?
“Anything?” He repeated.
“Yeah, I guess so. I’m pretty fucking desperate right now.”
Joel came around the corner of the counter, crowding you until your neck craned up to meet his eyes. Your heart thrummed in your ears, warmth blossoming in your stomach the longer he stared at you. 
“Desperate lil’ thing, huh?” He teased.
Backing away from you, Joel walked to the shop entrance and slowly turned the lock. He looked back at you as he flipped the sign to CLOSED as if testing your judgment. You gave him a meek nod, never letting your eyes off him as he stalked toward you again. His finger ran up your forearm, catching on the sleeve of your top and tugging it lightly.
“Follow me, darlin’.”
That sentiment, followed by the twang of his accent, was enough to make your knees buckle, and you followed him like a dog in heat. Joel led you back into the heart of the shop, scraps of tools and car parts littering the makeshift garage. And right in the center of it all was your car. Leaning against the hood, he patted the metal, beckoning you over. You dropped your purse on the workbench and walked toward him on shaky legs. Joel spread his legs a bit wider as you approached, his fingers wrapping around your belt loops to pull you in close.
You were a breath apart now, just the barrier of clothes separating you. Joel’s hands snaked around your waist and firmly palmed your ass through your jeans. You let out a small yelp as his fingers dug into the supple flesh, kneading and massaging until your eyes drifted shut at the feeling.
“You pay off all your debts this way?” His voice dropped an octave, and you felt the bulge in his jeans prodding against your stomach as you leaned closer.
“Fuck off,” you scoffed. “Wasn’t planning on my car taking a shit out here and definitely wasn’t budgeting for it either.”
“Hmm,” he mused. “Ain’t got a boyfriend to give you some cash to help?”
“If I did, I wouldn’t be out here tryna fuck you for my car,” you quipped.
A grin split across his face at your defensiveness, as if he enjoyed you being a brat. You weren’t trying to be— honest to god—but you desperately needed to leave this town, preferably with your car. 
“Y’sure are a bratty little thing,” he said, tugging you closer.
“Why don’t you stop talking so much and fuck me so I can get the hell up out of this small fucking town?” You grumbled.
Joel raised one of his hands to grip your chin, steadying your gaze on his. Sliding his thumb over your lips, he coaxed your mouth open and urged you to suck on his finger. Without breaking eye contact, you swirled your tongue over the skin of his thumb before wrapping your lips around it.
“Christ, darlin’,” he exhaled. “Might just let you suck my cock and send you on your way.”
You released it with a pop, a trail of saliva dripping from your bottom lip. Reaching down, you massaged the bulge in his pants, letting out a soft gasp. He was massive—bigger than expected. He let out a small chuckle as if reading your mind, bucking his hips against your touch.
“You’d give me my car for a little blowjob?” You questioned, squeezing his cock tighter.
“S’nothing little about me, darlin’.”
“Aren’t you just full of yourself,” you rolled your eyes.
Your fingers danced over the zipper of his jeans, tugging it down as he helped pull his cock free. You peeked down to catch a glimpse of it, your eyes growing wide. His cock was girthy and thick and definitely had no shortage of length, either. Precum leaked from the tip, and you wet your lips at the idea of trying to fit it all in your mouth.
“Y’gonna suck it or what? Car ain’t gonna pay for itself.”
“You gonna give me my car after?” You tossed back.
“Maybe,” he grinned. “Those tires might cost you extra.”
“We’ll see about that,” you smirked.
Sinking to your knees, you pulled down his jeans and underwear until he adjusted himself at the tip of your lips. You wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, squeezing softly as you guided it into your mouth. Stretching your lips wider, you swirled your tongue around the tip, basking in Joel's groan as you did so.
“S’fucking perfect, darlin’. That mouth feels fucking amazing.”
 You took him deeper, moving your mouth in a rhythmic motion until you felt his hand come down to grip your hair. He held you steady as he snapped his hips back and forth, pushing his cock further down your throat. Sputtering around him, you dug your nails into his thighs as leverage while he continued fucking your throat.
“That’s it, darlin’,” he rasped. “C’mon now, take this fuckin’ cock down your throat.”
Opening your throat wider, you swallowed every thrust as tears streamed down your cheeks. Joel was relentless with his thrusts, your nose brushing against the curls at the base every time you took him deeper. You could sense he was close to the edge, so you dragged your tongue against the base of his cock with each stroke, spurring him on further. It elicited a primal growl deep within his chest, and within seconds you could feel the warmth of his cum sliding down your throat. His cock twitched inside your mouth as he came down from his high, and you hummed as you swallowed every last drop.
Using the grip on your hair to pull you off, you sat back on your heels, coughing and heaving to try and catch your breath. Joel looked down on you with heavy lidded eyes and a smug grin as if to taunt you. Cupping your cheek, he slid his thumb against your skin and brushed away the rolling tears.
“Open,” he ordered. “Show me.”
You quirked a playful smile, leaning your head back as you stuck your tongue out to prove you swallowed it all. Slapping your face softly, Joel let out a soft chuckle.
“Atta girl.”
You brushed the remainder of your tears away, wiping the makeup from your eyes, and you stood on wobbly legs. Smoothing down your shirt and jeans, you crossed your arms over your chest and cocked a brow.
“I think I earned my car back,” you insisted, your voice hoarse from how hard he fucked you.
“Hmmm, y’think so?” Joel questioned. “I think I deserve a taste of that pussy.”
You shoved at him playfully, rolling your eyes. 
“In your dreams, cowboy,” you laughed. 
With his pants still hanging down, Joel spun you until your ass was pressed against the hood of your car. Working at the button and zipper of your jeans, he shoved them down and pulled your legs free until your bare ass was pinned to the cool metal. Joel gave you a lopsided grin and shoved you further onto the hood.
“I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I didn’t return the favor, darlin’.”
“You don’t need to do that,” you said, your voice shaky.
“Oh, but I want to,” he argued. “Gotta see how sweet you taste.”
Sliding down, Joel situated himself between your thighs, tugging your calves up to rest on his broad shoulders. He gave you a teasing kiss on your inner thighs before delving in, his tongue flicking at your sensitive bud. You careened back against the hood, your back arching as his mouth suctioned around your clit. Crying out, you carded your hand through the brown curls of his hair, anchoring his face against your wet cunt as it pulsed against his mouth. Joel plunged his tongue inside you, forcing another whine from your lips.
“Fuck!” You cried. “Right there! Oh my god, yes!”
He hummed in satisfaction, bringing his fingers into the mix as he opened you up, curling them against that sweet spot inside you. Keeping his mouth on your clit he worked in tandem with his fingers until that coil inside you wound tighter and tighter. With one more curl of his fingers, your orgasm surged through your body, forcing a gush of liquid to stream out of your wet cunt. Joel sat back in awe, staring at your glistening folds as your body trembled from the release, your juices covering his beard and mustache. 
“Fuck babydoll,” he grinned. “You a squirter, too?”
You laughed awkwardly and watched as he removed his two fingers and brought them to his lips. Sucking them into his mouth, Joel groaned as he tasted the remnants of your orgasm. You knew you could squirt—it was your own dirty little secret—but something about seeing him covered in your juices made you want more. Tugging him softly with your calves on his shoulders, you urged him back to your soaked entrance, silently begging for another round. 
“Gonna cover me in your juices again, darlin’?” Joel smirked. 
“Mhmm,” you whined. 
“Drench me babydoll, let’s see it.”
Joel’s mouth was on you again, lapping up the juices leaking out of you until you were crying out for him. He didn’t let up as he sucked your aching clit between his teeth, his tongue working at the bud in earnest. He pushed his fingers back into you, your cunt pulsing violently each time he curled them. Slipping a third finger in, he stretched you wider and moaned against your clit as your body tensed with another orgasm. Another rush of liquid made it past his fingers, soaking his mouth and chin. You could feel it trickle down the seam of your cunt, drenching the hood of your car as you thrashed against it.
“Christ, Joel,” you mumbled, your head lolling to the side. 
He rose to his feet, wiping a hand over the hair covering his chin as he smiled at you. You sat up slightly, positioning yourself on your forearms as you watched him slide his jeans further down his legs. You were already in this deep; you might as well keep going. Spreading your legs a bit wider, you raised a finger to beckon him closer. 
“C’mon cowboy,” you teased. 
“Y’really need that car, huh?” He smiled, lining his cock up to your entrance. 
“I really do,” you whimpered, nodding your head vigorously. 
Joel eased himself inside you, inch by fucking inch, until he was fully seated at the base of his cock. You both groaned in unison, his cock sliding in and out of you easily from all the juice leaking from you. Crossing your ankles behind his back, you pushed him deeper, mewling at the sensation of the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix. You could feel that stinging stretch of your cunt as he picked up his thrusts, your ass sliding up the car each time. 
“Shit, babydoll,” he growled. “S’fucking tight around my cock.”
“You feel so good, Joel,” you hummed. “Please, I need it harder.”
Listening to your pleas, Joel planted his hands on either side of your face, pistoning into you with brute force. He bent down, sucking and biting the skin of your neck until you were crying out from the pain mixing with the pleasure. You rolled your hips to meet him thrust for thrust, your cunt fluttering against his cock each time. That blinding orgasm was on the horizon as your muscles tensed up for its release. Running your hands up under his shirt, you dug your nails into his back muscles, dragging them down his tanned skin. Joel groaned into your ear, his hips snapping against yours harder and faster.
“Oh fuck! Oh fuck!” You sobbed. “I–I’m gonna fucking cum, Joel!”
“Yeah, babydoll? Fuckin’ soak me with it.”
He pulled out at the last moment, a heavy stream of liquid pouring from your cunt and coating your inner thighs and Joel’s cock. Without wasting a second, he drove back into you, picking up the pace despite your body still shaking and dripping from your orgasm. You could feel your tears rolling down the sides of your face, that warmth still coursing inside you. Joel’s thrusts grew erratic and off-rhythm, and you sensed his orgasm was pushing him to the edge. 
“Y’gonna let me fill that pussy, darlin’?” His lips grazed the shell of your ear as his voice sent shivers up your spine.
“God, please,” you cried.
With one…two…three final strokes, Joel was grunting and painting your insides with thick bursts of his cum. You both lay there limp and fucked out for several moments, catching your breath and chuckling as reality settled back in. He slipped out of you and drew his pants back up his legs, his eyes roaming over your sweaty body. With one hand, he tugged up the zipper of his jeans, using the other to push the cum leaking out of you back into your wet cunt. 
“Gotta send you off with some sort of parting gift,” he laughed.
You couldn’t help but laugh, too, adjusting yourself and sliding off the hood. Joel bent down to ease your pants back over your thighs and hips, helping with your own zipper as you stood awkwardly in front of him. Joel leaned in to kiss your cheek before walking to the corkboard hanging from the wall. Retrieving your keys from one of the hooks, he offered them to you with a kind smile.
“I’m free to go?” You asked, reaching for them. 
He pulled them away, shaking his head with a teasing grin. You pouted sarcastically, opening your hand and waiting.
“One kiss, and we call it even, babydoll.”
You grabbed either side of his face, pulling him in for a hungry kiss. You coaxed his mouth open, teasing your tongue over his, tasting your arousal still lingering on his tongue. Joel deepened the kiss, tangling his free hand in your hair to anchor you closer. Pressed up against him, you found yourself thirsting for more but knew you had no obligation to stay. Sucking his bottom lip between your teeth, you pulled away reluctantly and snatched the keys from his hand. 
“Thanks for the new tires, cowboy,” you grinned. 
Joel dazzled you with another gorgeous smile, the lines around his eyes creasing as he gave you one final nod. You squeezed your way out of his embrace, making your way to the driver's side door. He followed you over, opening it like the gentleman he was, waiting till you were situated inside. Leaning in for one more kiss, he lingered a moment too long before breaking away.
“Safe travels, darlin’. If you ever need some work done, y’know where to find me.”
You dug your keys into the ignition, letting the car rumble awake. Joel shut the car door with one final smile and watched you reverse out of the mechanic shop. Giving him a small wave, you turned onto the street and back toward the highway with a soreness creeping up your thighs.
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cavillscurls · 2 months
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tender loving care | husband!joel miller x pregnant!reader
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summary: pregnancy symptoms are tough. your husband finds ways to make them a bit more bearable.
warnings/tags: MDNI. established relationship. husband!joel. pregnant!reader. no outbreak. non-canon. depictions of discomfort/pain/complications due to pregnancy. brief mentioning of difficulty conceiving. fluff. sweet, domestic joel. use of “daddy,” but not in the kinky way. foul language. pet names. smut. dirty talk. boob massage! teasing. nipple play. some grinding. nipple orgasm. mastubation (m). cum play. joel loves readers stomach. pregnancy kink by default. no descriptions of age, race, or body type…except for reader being pregnant (duh), and some physical pregnancy symptoms. joel miller fucking loves his wife.
word count: 5k
a/n: i’ve never been pregnant in my life so excuse any inaccuracies bc there will be some!! big thanks to @kiwisbell for encouraging me to write this and coming up with the title bc i’m ass at that. also fun little game: take a shot every time you read ‘nipples,’ sorry bout it.
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Eight months flew by in the blink of an eye. 
It felt like only yesterday your entire world had changed over two, little pink lines. You didn’t think you could ever forget the all-encompassing joy you experienced that day; tear-filled eyes and tight embraces shared with the man you loved. Years of trying dwindled to a single, perfect moment. Because after some time, you had begun to lose hope. It didn’t always happen for people; maybe, it just wasn’t meant to happen for you. 
“We ain’t gonna stop tryin’, you hear me? Not gonna give up that easily.” 
He had been your rock through the entire process. The only tangible thing keeping you grounded while the earth felt as though it was slipping right from under your feet. Your anchor. 
Your husband.
Your Joel. 
And in the following months, he was no less attentive and devoted. He read every book, took you to every class and doctor’s appointment, and dealt with every absurd craving you requested. He handled the emotional highs and lows with ease, always a beacon of stability and comfort, even when the reality of your situation began to weigh on you. He praised your rapidly changing body, especially on the days you felt less than comfortable or beautiful in it. All the while continuing to work, provide for you and the life you were growing as if it were the most innate thing in the world. 
His willingness to attend to you and your growing family became increasingly crucial during the final month of your pregnancy. Your obstetrician had strongly recommended bed rest due to high blood pressure levels, a complication she assured you could be managed with plenty of rest, water, and some dietary adjustments. You tried adamantly to not let the fear consume you, even with years of working towards your miracle in tow. So while Joel worked, and grocery shopped, and tended to the house and garden, and cooked, and cleaned, you spent most of your days in bed or on the couch trying not to go absolutely insane. 
As if you didn’t already feel useless in your life and marriage. As if you weren’t already spending every waking moment worrying about the chance of losing your baby over something entirely out of your control. Breathing exercises. Meditation. Warm baths. You followed every method to reduce stress as it was, doctor’s quote, imperative to you and the health of your baby. 
But some days were harder than others. And some symptoms weren’t as easy to bear. 
One evening, you found yourself on the couch clicking through the television channels after one of your dozen labor and delivery books had terrified you to the point of needing a break. A palate cleanser. Something to take your mind off the way your body ached in seemingly every crack and crevice, and the anxiety that resided in the pit of your stomach over your approaching due date. 
It was not for lack of excitement, of course. You couldn’t wait to hold your baby in your arms. To begin this new chapter of life with the two people you undoubtedly loved most in the world. But there was fear in the unknown; you had never given birth before, and books and educational videos could only prepare you to a certain extent. You often doubted yourself, your body, and what it was capable of. How much you could really endure. 
No, you scolded yourself. Now is not the time to spiral. 
You carefully propped your swollen feet up on the coffee table in front of you, pulling the wool blanket your mother had knitted for you as a baby shower gift over your legs. Joel was working late, which meant you were left to your own erratic devices. You settled the TV on the Hallmark channel; perhaps a rookie mistake given your emotional state, but a welcomed distraction from the way every muscle in your body seemed to throb upon any given movement. You tried to situate yourself in a single position, but found the task nearly impossible, leaving you to squirm mere centimeters every which way trying to find the perfect spot on the cushions. Either your back was sore, or your bladder was suffocated. Your neck was craned, or your legs were extending too far to reach the table comfortably. 
You let out an exasperated groan, sinking back into the cushions defeatedly, succumbing to the discomfort. Your eyes darted down to your belly, a bit of stretched skin protruding out between the hem of Joel’s t-shirt you wore and the blanket. You settled your hands on either side of your stomach. 
“Not even here yet, and already giving me a run for my money, aren’t you?” you asked. Not even a moment later, you felt a familiar churn in your gut, followed by bumps of tiny limbs against your hands. A smile lit up your face. You remembered how odd the sensation was when you felt it for the first time weeks prior; now, you looked forward to it. 
“It’s okay,” you continued, giving your stomach a few soothing rubs, knowing soon enough, you would be directing all of your comfort to something much more delicate. “You know I forgive you.” 
The sound of the door unlocking tore your focus. You didn’t trust yourself to move, somewhat satisfied in the position you were in. But you heard the familiar sound of boots being kicked off, followed by keys tossed into the bowl on the front table. 
“Hello?” Joel called, the deep timbre of his rich drawl echoing through the foyer and into the living room. 
“In here!” you yelled back, the sound of approaching footsteps following seconds later.  
Joel rounded the couch, and when his tired eyes met yours, you watched the creases in the corners deepen when he smiled down at you. You beamed back at him, a sense of relief and security washing over you at the sight of your husband. Disheveled, graying curls. Gentle, brown eyes. Full, loving lips that you couldn’t wait a moment longer to kiss. He didn’t keep you in suspense long, merely taking a moment to breathe in the sight of you, before he lowered himself onto the couch beside you with a fatigued grunt. He slung one arm across your shoulders, the other hand coming up to gently cradle your jaw. 
“Hi baby,” he said softly, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. You savored the feeling and the musky scent of him after a hard days work. 
“Hi,” you whispered when he pulled back, nose still nudging against yours, while his thumb caressed circles over the apple of your cheek. “I’m so glad you’re home.” 
“M’glad to be home,” he admitted, filling you with adoration as he so often did. He released your jaw then, trailing his fingers down to your swollen belly and tenderly running his hand over it. “And hello to my other baby,” he mused, leaning down to press a kiss just above your belly button. The sight alone could have made you cry if you hadn’t been so used to the practice as routine now. Seldom was there a time that he did not greet the both of you; still two separate entities to him, although you were wrapped up in one. 
It was endearing, exciting to see him like this. You thought this was what made the pain, the discomfort, the waiting, all worthwhile. Even though it took far too long to reach your goal, and the finish line still looked to be miles away, Joel was a constant reward. Everything you could ask for in a man, in a partner. 
“How you feelin’?” he asked, his face still lingering close to your belly. 
But before you could even answer him, a sharp pang shot through your chest, straight into your breasts. This was your newest symptom, having snuck up on you in the last trimester. As if your boobs looking and feeling as though they could explode with how full they had gotten wasn’t enough. It was as if your body could hear your momentary thoughts of gratefulness and decided to taunt you. 
“Sore,” you hissed, grinding your teeth together. “Everywhere.” 
Joel tsked his tongue down at your stomach. “Now, you listen here little one,” he said, feigning sternness. “You know daddy loves you, but you gotta stop givin’ mama such a hard time.” 
“Why do I feel like this is only the beginning?” you groaned, throwing your head back against the couch cushions. 
Joel chuckled. “Well, if she’s anything like you, darlin’, she’s sure as hell gonna have an attitude.” 
You immediately propped your head back up. “She?” you asked, raising your brows at him. You two had decided to wait until delivery to find out the sex of the baby, something small that made the anticipation all the more exciting. 
He shrugged, a hint of embarrassment painting his cheeks pink as if he hadn’t meant to say the thought aloud. “S’just a hunch,” he mumbled, delicately rubbing his palm across the expanse of your belly again. “Be happy with anythin’, just… always picture a little girl.” 
And for a moment, the ache that lingered in your chest swelled deep down, radiating from your heart. An adoring smile broke out on your face as you watched him, eyes already back on your belly, lips casually planting little kisses on exposed skin whenever he pleased. Delicate hands that touched you with greater affection than any person you had ever known. 
God, you loved him. More than life itself. So much it hurt, wondering how you had ever become so lucky. 
“You’re gonna be such a good daddy,” you told him softly, lifting a hand to the nape of his neck and soothing the skin there with your fingers. Joel hummed contentedly in response, seemingly too enamored with your stomach to shift focus. But it wasn’t long before you were startling him to attention, another unprompted sting through your breasts making you flinch. 
“My God,” you groaned, reaching up to cup the underside of them, the pressure providing a momentary relief. This time, the pain lingered; a heaviness and fullness that bordered too tender to touch. Body in constant conflict with itself. 
Joel’s head perked up from your abdomen, brows pulled in concern. “What is it?” he asked, searching your face before following the movement of your hands that began to gently knead over the front of your shirt. 
“My boobs are fucking killing me,” you told him honestly, causing him to chuckle. Your husband was no stranger to your blunt mouth even before he got you pregnant. The vulgarity only increased upon your hormones fluctuating with the hour, but he never seemed to mind. You got the impression it may have even amused him. 
“Feel better when you rub ‘em?” he asked. 
You pouted at him, the feeling of defeat inescapable. “A little, yeah,” you said. 
“Here, let me.” 
You didn’t protest, allowing him to help your feet off the coffee table and remove the blanket from your legs so he could kneel on the floor before you. He wedged his torso between your thighs, the bump of your belly snug against his chest. His hands reached up to cover yours, dwarfing them in the way that never ceased to make you feel safe, protected. You slipped yours out from underneath, resting them on either side of your stomach as he took the whole of each breast into his hands. You exhaled deeply, letting your head fall back against the cushions as he began to gently massage the supple flesh. 
“This too hard?” he asked after a moment of silence, save for your soft sighs and the hum of the TV still running in the background. 
“No,” you breathed, basking in the reprieve of his touch. His care. His love. “No, it's perfect.” The vulnerable state of your body was compliant, trusting with every fiber of your being that he would take care of it, tend to it to the best of his ability. 
You let your eyes close briefly, focusing on the careful attention he bathed you in. He alternated between broad strokes, painting the perimeter of each breast with firm pressure, and gentle kneading that had you humming in satisfaction. There was nothing quite like Joel’s hands; reliable, strong, putting you back together piece by piece no matter where they touched you. Always knowing how to touch you, taking their time to discover the uncharted terrain and what made it blossom, what made you tick. You thought that must have been the case when his fingers went rogue, thumbs carelessly strumming over your sensitive nipples. 
You gasped at the unexpected sensation, electricity prickling your skin. You lifted your head, peering down at Joel with parted lips and wide eyes. He was already looking up at you, a slight arch to his brow while he assessed the sudden reaction. With no protest to be found, he executed the motion again, this time with a bit more pressure. 
The contact shot straight to your core, eliciting a small whine as your nipples grew taut below his thumbs. Swollen, aching, and unbearably sensitive– to anything other than your husband's touch, it seemed. A knowing grin spread over Joel’s cheeks. 
“That feel good, darlin’?” he questioned, the teasing drop to his tone just as adequate in rousing you as his hands were. Now, every time he squeezed your breasts, he circled the pad of his fingers over each hardened bud, admiring the way your hips began to jerk forward in response. The spot between your legs began to ache just as adamantly as the rest of you, only now, you knew exactly the remedy. 
“Joel,” you moaned softly after a few more tight, tantalizing flicks. Even through your t-shirt, the rough callouses on his thumbs gifted you with tiny jolts of pleasure, an invisible tremor radiating through your body, connecting his fingers to your cunt that began to clench with every stroke. 
You saw the shift in his eyes; loving, doting husband so easily replaced by the hunger he had for pleasing you. Especially when he knew you needed to be satiated. Could sense the want that erupted effortlessly under his ministrations. 
You two had stopped having sex around the seven-month mark, as engaging in the act became more of a nuisance than an enjoyable experience for you. Another irritating symptom. Joel didn’t mind stopping in the slightest. What he did mind, however, was the lack of physical attention he was able to give his wife. Something he prided himself in, providing you the pleasure he insisted you deserved. 
He got creative, nonetheless. Spending hours between your thighs, lavishing you with his tongue. Putting his deliciously thick fingers to work. Even investing in a few toys, something you widely appreciated during both your time together and when he was away. He was enraptured by the way your body responded to him nowadays, sensitive and overly reactive to each and every touch. Taking the time to discover what worked and what didn’t. 
And it appeared this occasion was to be no different. 
Wordlessly, Joel’s hands abandoned you, and you made no effort to hide your huff of frustration at the loss. This only widened his grin, the little craters you adored showing up on his cheeks. 
“So impatient,” he chastised, to which you rolled your eyes. You had half a mind to make some comment regarding your current physical state, and how it required no patience, but his hands were back on you before you had a chance. This time, fingers slipped under the hem of the t-shirt and guided it up and over your belly. You watched him carefully in anticipation. 
“Arms up,” he said when the shirt bunched below your breasts. And who were you to deny such a request? Wasting no time in lifting your arms over you while he pulled your shirt over your head. 
You weren’t wearing a bra — you gave up on those a long time ago — warm skin succumbing to the cool air, already tight nipples growing little goosebumps around the perimeter. You used to feel more self-conscious; stretch marks across your chest as it grew with the rest of you, areolas a shade or two darker than they once were, and certainly less perky. But you didn’t hold on to those ideas for long. Not when you had Joel. Ever loving, praising every inch of you no matter how drastically you changed. Such changes significantly unimportant and minuscule compared to the task of growing life inside of you. 
He never failed to find ways to remind you of your beauty. Even if you couldn’t see it, providing you with a vivid picture of life through his eyes. 
The next time he touched you, he was brushing the backs of his knuckles ever so slightly across your exposed nipples. Your hands dug into the cushions below you, sucking in a breath through clenched teeth. Little jolts of pleasure shot through each peak, hardly able to handle his teasing touch. 
“And so sensitive,” he mused, taking another pass of his knuckles over you. Rough skin caught on tender, pebbled flesh, finding a delicate rhythm; back and forth, not too fast, just enough to have you heaving for more. 
The invisible string running down your midline grew tighter until he was switching tactics, turning over his hands to take each nipple delicately between his thumb and pointer finger, tweaking them over and over again. Not too fast, or too hard, just right. 
You were starting to whine, hips jerking forward nearly uncontrollably now. You felt your clit twitch below your sweatpants with every thrust, a stream of slick arousal pooling in your panties. Joel had always been a maestro in stimulating your body, but you couldn’t recall ever feeling this turned on by something so simple. A familiar heat that usually only arose when you were near the edge of control settled in your lower stomach. 
“Oh, f-fuck,” you stammered as you watched him lean forward, resting his chin atop your belly, and guiding one of your breasts towards his hot mouth. He never broke eye contact as his lips parted, wrapping around the awaiting nipple, already hard and raw, and gingerly sucking between his teeth. His tongue began to lap lazily over the stiff bud, his free hand still preoccupied with the other— pinching, tweaking, and flicking any which way that set your body alight. 
“Like that?” he muttered into your skin, a momentary cessation just to catch his breath before he was diving back in, repeating the torment to the other side. 
You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, nodding. “Mhm,” you breathed, unable to find the right words to tell him just how much you liked it. Perhaps even a bit embarrassed to admit it. 
Your hands abandoned the cushions, finding his head and weaving your fingers through the graying curls. Keeping him close, right where you needed him. The friction between your body intensified once you felt the unmistakable outline of his erection between your thighs; this lewd display, hardly even having to lift a finger while your husband devoted himself to pleasing you, turned him on. Made him ache, too. The idea alone could have driven you over the edge. 
Then, he was using both generous hands to push your breasts together, leaving little space between them to swivel his tongue swiftly from each peak to the other. His hooded eyes peered up at you, tongue out, drool dripping down his chin and onto your skin, appearing like a goddamn beast in heat. Desperate for his fix. 
“God, Joel,” you whined again, finding that his name was one of the only words you could muster. Your knuckles grew stiff, clutching onto his hair with a new ferocity as your pelvis began to chase the length in his jeans. The subtle grinding of your clothed cunt against him accelerated the thrilling build-up, the dull warmth in your lower tummy growing into a wildfire that descended through your core and trembling thighs. 
“Christ, you’re fuckin’ perfect,” he growled, words muffled as he refused to detach his lips from your nipples. He must have noticed the way your eyes began to roll back into your skull, the pathetic way you clung onto him, even rolling your chest to the rhythm of his tongue.  “You gonna come for me, baby? Gonna come just from me playin’ with these pretty tits, huh?” 
It was all too much, too overwhelming, overstimulating. Your body didn’t know where to bend nor break, having no choice but to give in to the momentum Joel was effortlessly building. And when the thread snapped, you had the brief feeling of falling. Unsure if what you were feeling was what he asked of you, but it swarmed like warm water. Starting deep in your gut and spreading throughout your limbs that clenched around his hips and shoulders, body seizing and lips parting in a wail of euphoria. 
Your untouched cunt clenched rapidly, leaking into your panties as you came, little bolts of lightening hot energy shot through your nipples still being lapped in Joel’s attention. Your shoulders hunched over his head, battered buds growing sore with overstimulation, but you wanted to ride the high. Feel every ounce of wave wash over you until your toes were curling and your tits were begging for a new type of relief. 
“Ahh, oh my god. Yes. Okay, okay fuck,” you heaved, hands now working to pull him away. Joel unlatched his lips from your skin obediently, releasing the fullness of your breasts from his paws. His hands found the sides of your belly again, holding your quivering body still while he left a path of sweltering hot kisses along your sternum to your pulse point. He grazed his teeth over the spot, nibbling gently. 
“Didn’t know you could do that,” he mused into your neck. You could practically hear the cheeky spread of his lips. 
You chuckled, still breathless. “Yeah, neither did I. Fuck,” you shivered, jerking back every time his chest brushed up against yours. 
Joel hummed pleasantly, pressing a final kiss below your ear before he retracted back from you. You saw him reach for the t-shirt discarded on the other side of the couch but grabbed at his wrist before he could pick it up. 
“Wait,” you said, the cloud of lust still hanging over you. You weren’t ready for the moment to end. “I wanna do something for you.” You kept your voice light, meager. Somewhat petulant. Hoping that with enough sweetness, he wouldn’t be stubborn enough to deny you. It was not as if you couldn’t feel the way he still strained against his jeans. 
Joel sighed, tilting his head at you with a knowing look. Equally scolding and sympathetic. “You know I don’t want ya movin’ around too much, the doctor said—”
“Who said I have to move?” you interrupted, arching a devious brow at him. He furrowed his in return. “Maybe… I just wanna watch.” 
A mere breath, brief and dumbfounded while the suggestion sunk in. Then, a brazen grin crept its way onto his face, and he chuckled lowly in his chest. “Oh, baby,” Joel purred, shaking his head at you, unable to mute his delight at your proposition, and you wondered why you hadn’t thought of it sooner. 
You loved this. Being so certain that, despite your current state, you could still excite your husband as diligently as he did you. That he craved you, needed you for any semblance of release. 
Slowly, Joel lifted himself from his knees to his feet. Your neck craned back to accommodate the size of him standing before you, a practiced hand undoing his belt and unzipping the front of his jeans. You watched in sheer fascination, hazy eyes and a blissed-out little smile that you tried to bite back, as he shucked his jeans a few inches down his thighs. Your mouth watered at the sight of his gray boxers tented and stained through— all from the sight of you coming undone. His eyes never left you as he hooked his thumbs into the band of his boxers, pulling them down towards his jeans, his heated cock jumping free. The reddened tip hit just below his belly button; glistening, begging for attention. 
You had half a mind to reach out, take his girth between your hands, and guide him into your mouth. You would find some way to accommodate yourself; a pillow under your knees, or perhaps on your side across his lap. But Joel wouldn’t have it. Wouldn’t put you through the effort just for his pleasure. You had tried, and failed, to argue with the logic time and time again. 
Instead, you let him come to you. He hunched forward over you, one hand stabilizing himself on the arm of the couch, while the other came first to his lips, generously spitting into his palm, and then to grip himself at the base, sighing at the contact. His balls were already taut, cock throbbing. Your lips hung open in pure starvation, encouraging him to give himself over to you. 
“Where do you want me?” he asked, voice low and hoarse as he began to slowly pump himself into his fist. You moaned a little sound of desperation at the picture. “Ain’t gonna last long, baby,” he warned you. “Where do you want me?” 
You considered his question. The twinge of power excited you, and you found that the answer came easy; perhaps raunchy to the outside eye, but it felt nothing if not natural. 
You dragged one of your hands up and over your swollen stomach; slowly, sultry as you circled it, batting devious eyes up at him. “Want you right here,” you told him, watching his shroud of control begin to falter. Written plainly, desperately across his face. The muscle in his jaw twitched where his teeth ground hard. 
“Fuck,” he groaned, fist working over his silken shaft a bit faster now, intentional. His eyes were abysmal, blown black and desperately searching yours as a sheen layer of sweat covered his brow. “S’what you want, darlin’? Want me to paint that pretty fuckin’ belly of yours?” 
You nodded at him eagerly, spurring him on. Inviting in and accepting the depravity, passion, and lust that clung to the atmosphere. You two wouldn’t be able to indulge in it as freely much longer. 
You brought your own hands back to your breasts, squeezing over his diligent work, and moaning softly when your fingers pinched your battered nipples. An added touch. Joel’s hawk eyes followed every movement, devouring you. His lower abdomen clenched and his fist pumped himself ardently until he was cursing a string of fuckfuckfucks, squeezing his eyes shut, face contorted in euphoric bliss. He closed further in on you, close enough so that the tip of his cock nudged the bare skin above your belly button while he fulfilled his promise. Painting you in thick, white release, the primal sounds resonating in his chest while he came a sweet symphony to your ears. 
Some splattered onto your boobs, even a bit on your chin. It was bizarre how long it had taken to get you pregnant considering the absolute mass of Joel’s orgasms. But the majority of his pearly cum dripped over your stomach, coating your skin in a familiar warmth; the same seed that graced you with the gift inside of you. 
His ragged breaths began to slow, but you took it upon yourself to drag out your little show just a while longer. And he watched, just as greedy, while you ran your fingers over your stomach once more, collecting his spend onto the digits. You made sure he was looking you in the eyes when you brought your fingers to your mouth, pushing them knuckles deep and wrapping your lips around them. He stared at you with what you could only decipher as awestruck pride.
“You… are an extraordinary woman,” he said, breathless. The proudest grin plastered across his face— perhaps even a bit smug. You just shook your head laughing, smacking your lips as you pulled your fingers from your mouth and savored the salty taste of him. He leaned forward, capturing your damp lips in a lingering kiss before pressing his forehead to yours. “Stay here. Gonna run us a bath.” He gave you one last peck on your cheek before straightening up, tucking his softening cock back into his jeans, and heading towards the bathroom. 
You watched him go before leaning back into the cushions, content and satisfied, albeit rather sticky and sweaty. Gone were the aches and pains of a day without Joel, replaced solely with his fondness for you. You stared up at the ceiling, breathing deeply, and attempting to picture what life would look like in just four short weeks. How the love you shared for each other could possibly grow any larger; it would fill every corner in the room, you thought. It would dominate every waking moment, and inhabit each rapturous dream. In the moments when you freed yourself of your worries and doubts, that was what you held onto. How simple yet substantial the things around you were:
A warm, sturdy house.
A fridge full of food.
Kind, helpful neighbors.  
A family who would drop anything and everything to help you. 
A husband who cherished you.
You couldn’t stop the errant tears, no matter how frivolous, from pooling at your waterline. You laughed quietly to yourself, lifting your head back up and using the backs of your hands to wipe them away as they cascaded down your cheeks. Happy tears. Excited tears. Nervous tears and tears for the sake of tears all wrapped into one. A beautiful, daunting array of emotions that you would tend to over and over if it meant having the life you were lucky enough to live with the man you were lucky enough to love. 
Your eyes fell back to your stomach, the sight of it full and large, home and life-source to your baby, only fueling your fragility. But for a moment, as brief as it may have been, you couldn’t even remember a life before all of this.  
“I can’t wait to meet you,” you whispered.  
And you were surely looking forward to the life after. 
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gracieheartspedro · 5 months
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Who We Are
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pairing: fem!reader x dbf!joel miller
description: when your father falls ill, his patrol partner and best friend, joel miller finds a way to aid in his recovery. but this solution is complicated and requires you to take on a week-long hunt for supplies and resources. being stuck on the road with an older guy you've been crushing on for ages won't be so bad, right? wrong. because he's been pining after you, too. and one of you will have to give in evenutally.
word count: 17k words. this one is a LONG ONE. get a snack.
warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, post!outbreak joel, age gap (reader is in her 30s, joel is in his mid 50s), i don't describe the reader all that much, consumption of alcohol, illness that requires medical intervention, blood, guns, killing of infected, forced proximity, joel is kinda pervy?, talks of loss of family members, joel lies about his past, oral (f receiving), face sitting, unprotected p in v, overstimulation, dirty talk, creampie, after care.
author's note: ... hi folks! this one is a long one, so like I said, grab a snack and get comfy! I was going to make this multiple parts but I'm eager and unhinged. to be honest, this story is better as one big one shot anyway. I had a very intense time editing so I know I probably missed some things. I may write little branch off stories if you guys enjoy it enough. anyway, enjoy! <3 lemme know what you think!
“Didn’t know you were workin’ tonight, darlin’,” Your father’s Southern drawl brings you out of your daze. You had been cleaning glasses for the last hour and a half. Surprisingly, the Tipsy Bison wasn’t busy on a Wednesday night. You had been keeping busy by cleaning and serving two visitors. 
You look up, noticing your father and his patrol partner wander into the bar. They find a seat at the bar, right in front of you as you dry some whiskey glasses. 
“I work every night this week, Pops,” You mutter, turning back to the liquor bottles to grab his favorite bourbon. You knew exactly what he came here for. He wanted to pester you on your shift and watch you write under his partner’s gaze. He thought your little crush was entertaining. You have made comments to your dad in the past about how you thought Joel was nice to look at and your Dad would just laugh. He would jokingly wiggle his finger at you and tell you to find someone your age. 
Little do you and your father know, Joel feels similarly about you. The first moment he saw you, he thought about how if he was a young buck, he’d lock you down as soon as he could. The age held him back initially, never even entertaining your subtle glances or welcoming smiles. Then when he realized who your father was, he immediately shut down all thoughts like that in his head. You were strictly off-limits.
“Well good, keeps you busy.”
You did not enjoy the idea of working every weeknight with a bunch of drunks, but this job was a bit better than constantly shoveling horse shit. Instead, you got to mingle with the locals. Maybe find yourself a man, since you were in your early thirties and unmarried.
Joel loved coming to the Bison when you were here. It meant he got to drink a whiskey neat and watch you twirl and rush around the bar. Tonight was slower, though, so he got the privilege of speaking with you, which was rare. 
You pour your Dad his bourbon, finally glancing up at his partner who’s practically ogling at you. You made a conscious effort to avoid his piercing brown eyes. 
Joel Miller was a dream boat, god damn. Every time he glanced in your direction, you would freeze up and stutter out a very jumbled “hello”. He was quite guarded, never much to talk. When he did finally speak, you found yourself reeling over his deep voice. 
“Whatcha want, Mr. Miller?”
His lips twinged, his eyes flicking up to yours. He loves hearing you say that, he thinks to himself.  You hand off the bourbon to your Dad, waiting for a response. 
“Whatever he’s having is fine, sweetheart,” He says plainly, nodding toward the half-empty bottle. Your knees could buckle at the nickname, but you keep your composure. You can’t crumble that easily. 
You three slide into a conversation about their patrolling, what they found that day, and the game plan for tomorrow. You make a sly comment about how they needed to find some meaning in life other than patrol. Your dad laughs, and Joel just stares blankly at you. You instantly want to take back the comment and never speak again, ever. Instead, you just continue drying the glasses you just washed. 
When your dad finished his bourbon, you noticed his expression change from relaxed to pained. 
“You okay there?” You ask, grabbing his glass and placing it in the sink below the counter. He rubs his chest, letting out a deep guttural cough. Joel looks perplexed while you get closer and notice the blood splattering into your dad’s palm. 
“It’s nothing, just a cough,” He manages to say, his voice hoarse. You scan his face, knowing immediately that he’s lying.
“Bullshit, you’re coughing up blood,” You reach towards some towels, tossing them on the counter in front of him, “You should probably go get checked out, Dad.”
Joel quips, “Yeah, don’t need you getting sick when we are out tomorrow. Why don’t you stop by the infirmary before you go home?”
Your Dad just shakes his head, “You two are being dramatic. It’s nothing, I promise.”
Your Dad was known for downplaying his pain and sicknesses. You remember being a little girl traveling with him across the country and every time he got hurt, he’d just suck it up. He shattered his left pinky years ago and he resolved to just chop it off. So that’s what he did. He was lucky it never got infected. But he was known just to blow off all his ailments, reminding you he’s beat all the other odds. 
So instead of fighting with him, you just nod all the while, stealing a long glance at Joel. He’s finishing his drink and you can’t help but watch his neck. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and you fixate on it for a bit too long. 
You’re brought out of the trance when he slams the glass down, his dark brown eyes drooping. Joel always looked tired, but you knew after the day they had, he was actually tired. 
You had a couple more hours at the Bison before you had to close up, so you bid them a farewell, reminding your Dad that you’d be home before he stumbles off to bed. He never slept much, he would just read in the living room until you got home usually. 
Joel waves you a farewell, thanking you quietly for the drink. 
“Don’t be a stranger,” You say as he turns his back to you to head for the door. He turns a bit, giving you a slight smirk as he reaches for the door. 
You spend the rest of your shift daydreaming about what it’d be like to be with a man. You spent most of your time in Jackson without giving much of the men your age a thought. More than half were taken, anyway. While you let your mind wander, you realize your imagination is placing Joel in the spot of all the made-up situations with this said man. 
-
You lock the bar door behind you, tugging on it to ensure it’s snug in the latch. The air was shifting, the cool warm summer turning into a slightly chilly fall. You wore a long sleeve today, luckily, or else you’d be shivering on your way home. The walk home wasn’t a long one. 
When you reach your front door, you realize the living room light is on. Dad’s awake.
But as you reach to turn the knob, you hear ghastly breathing from the other side. When you swing the door open, you see your Dad in his recliner, his hand over his chest. He’s dry heaving, trying to get out a cough. 
“Hey, hey,” You quickly race to his side, “Are you okay? What’s happening?”
He breathes in deeply, “I just can’t seem to catch my breath. Something isn’t right.”
You have never seen him so panicked. You nod, understanding that your next step is to get him to the infirmary. He should have gone on his way home. You didn’t know if anyone would be there and you surely didn’t know if they would be able to treat his symptoms. 
“Are you in pain?” You ask, grabbing under his arms to lift him out of his chair. He’s wobbly, so you keep your hand under his armpit and use your other free arm to balance him. He shakes his head. 
“Just weak.”
Your heart sinks. Never in your life has your father admitted to feeling weak or sick. It was like as soon as he got home, his body just gave out. You help him into his shoes and start your trek back towards the middle of town. You wish you didn’t have to walk him so far because it felt like with every 5 feet, his lungs were giving out and sending him into a coughing fit. You probably woke the entire town trudging him through the streets. When you get to the front step of the infirmary, you knock as loud as you can. Usually, they had an overnight shift nurse helping, having them watch over whoever was dragged there during the day. Dispensing medicine if need be. You knew a couple of the nurses, most of them your age or a bit older. 
When a familiar face opens the door, you feel a sense of relief. 
“Hey Sidney,” You greet her, sort of pushing your Dad into the room, still keeping your hands wrapped around his center, “Something’s wrong with Pops.”
She reaches out to help you with him, “Oh no, what’s going on?”
“Can hardly breathe,” Is all he can muster out. You look at Sidney, concern spread across your face. She nods, knowingly. 
Sidney was one of the nurses you trusted the most. She gave you stitches when you sliced your hand open on a glass bottle a couple of weeks ago. She was patient and gentle, always checking to see if you were doing alright as she sewed your skin together. She’s a former Firefly, probably in her 40s. She got trained by some doctors years ago so she knew a decent amount about all sorts of medical treatment. 
She takes hold of the situation completely, grabbing your Dad and walking him to a free bed near the door. She gets him to lie down and she starts scrambling for some supplies to do a quick once over of him. He looks pale and for some reason, very small, in the hospital bed. 
“It’s gonna be alright,” You say, poking his arm. You say it for him, but you mainly say it for yourself. He closes his eyes and nods. 
“Always is, kiddo.”
-
The news was not ideal. After observation and some tests, Sidney decided your father probably has pneumonia. The problem was, that Jackson was low on antibiotics and they would have to decide if your Dad’s case was urgent enough to give him some. 
It pissed you off, but you had to hold back your anger. This situation was out of Sidney’s control, but you knew exactly who to raise your voice to. Sadly, the city council was asleep in their beds, as it was 4 a.m. Sidney reassured you that she would ensure your father was looked after until the morning when they could discuss with everyone if it would be okay to give him some of the highly sought-after antibiotics. 
But for now, you should get some rest. 
Your father fussed at you while he was in and out of sleep, telling you that you needed to go home and sleep. Your body was plagued with exhaustion and your brain was hardly functioning. You would need to plead a good case, so even a couple of hours of sleep would do you good. You ask if you could occupy a bed nearby and Sidney agrees with a sympathetic smile. You curl up, trying to clear your brain of your racing thoughts. 
You can’t lose your father, he’s all you have. 
You need to remind the council of all your father does. 
You need him to get better. 
You need him. 
-
“We only have 4 vials of antibiotics,” Maria states, trying not to look you in the eyes. She feels horrible, but she knows deep down the rest of the council will probably reject your father using any. It was going to be a tough decision like this that made most of the people in the council think they were playing God, but it was real life. Would they give your 60-something-year-old father antibiotics for pneumonia or give it to a young child suffering from an infection? They had to think ahead and supplies were scarce. 
You cross your arms, waiting for the next shoe to drop. “And?”
Tommy stands up, knowing you will not like the next sentence. He practically guards Maria with his broad frame. He resembled Joel, with his dark hair and stern eyes. His were a bit softer. 
“We are low on resources, hun. We need to think ahead and ensure that the pros outweigh the cons of giving him one of those vials. You understand?”
“Why was this not a thought in the summer? When it was a good time to go seek some out? I just don’t under-”
“We had that sickness going around over the summer. Lots of people getting fevers. Before we knew it, Dr. Peters realized we were low. I had intentions to get out and try to find more, and trade with some people, but we just haven’t discussed it all yet. There’s a process. It was in the works.”
Your blood is boiling and your patience running out. Each second of arguing was another second your Dad could be closer to death. 
“Well, it’s a shitty fuckin’ process. Where can I go to get more, then? Is there another community we can trade with? A hospital we can scavenge? You guys can’t expect me to sit around and wait for him to get worse.”
Maria looks to Tommy, trying to wrack her brain for a response. Tommy’s lip twitches, knowing exactly what to say. He did not want you to do it, but he knew how you were. You’d do anything for your family. 
“There’s a hospital in Salt Lake that I’ve heard is practically untouched. Fireflies used to reside there and do tests. They probably left behind some supplies.”
You narrow your eyes, “Salt Lake? Isn’t that a whole week away?” 
You start to pace the room, trying to console yourself. You can’t just leave for that long and assume that everyone will take care of your Dad. Tommy places his hands on his hips, trying to figure out a resolution. He liked your Dad, always going to him if he needed help around the commune. Your Dad is always one to offer a helping hand and give solid advice. He didn’t want to watch him die, either. 
“How about this,” Tommy huffs, “How about we give him one of our vials and you and Joel head out to Salt Lake to scavenge that hospital? If we are right in our assumptions, there’s probably a lot of resources there. And Joel’s been there before.”
“Why are you roping Joel into this?” You press, crossing your arms. 
“Joel knows where to go. He can get you there in one piece.”
“Where am I going,” Joel’s presence takes you by surprise. You turn back at the front door of the infirmary, seeing Joel’s disheveled hair sticking up in every direction. He had red cheeks, probably from the jog he did to get there. As soon as he heard about your father, he booked it from the stables to his side. 
Tommy shoots Joel a knowing look, “You and her are gonna go back to Salt Lake. You think they have antibiotics at that hospital you took Ellie to?”
Joel’s visceral reaction sends you. His heart practically stopped when Tommy brought up the hospital. 
You start to sweat when he does, realizing you would have to travel that far with Joel Miller. 
He swallows, shifting his weight to his other leg. “Probably. Why can’t ya just give him what we have?”
Maria shakes her head at his response, “We have a long winter ahead of us, Joel. We have four vials left. This saves us from a council meeting where they shoot down everything. They won’t approve it. If I reassure them that you are going to get some more, they won’t mind if we give him one.”
He huffs, scratching his chin in contemplation. You knew this would not be ideal for him, but you’re willing to do anything, even if you had to do it alone. The four of you stand in silence while Joel wracks his brain for an excuse to say no. None comes to him. 
It’s not that he did not want to help you, he just does not want to relive some trauma with you by his side. He would have to swallow back all his emotions, all the while you would be posted up right next to him. He does not want you to see him falter under pressure.
“She can’t go alone, Joel,” Tommy quips, gesturing towards you. You were shaking, your body reacting before your brain even could. Your nerves were shot.
He shakes his head, “And if they don’t have the supplies?”
You didn’t even think that far. 
“They will,” Tommy says, matter-of-factly, “It’s our best bet. The Fireflies disbanded, there has to be stuff left behind.”
You don’t know how Tommy knows all this, but he must have good sources to know all these things. Joel nods at him, accepting his response. He looks back at you, trying to figure out how you feel about the proposition by reading your face. 
“Does that work for you?” His deep voice isn’t meant to be intimidating, but you flinch anyway at the question. 
“I don’t have much of a choice. My Dad needs the medicine. If you guys think we can make it there and back in one piece, I’ll do it.”
“We will leave tomorrow morning. In the meantime,” Joel waves over Sidney, who’s still sitting by your sleeping and dazed father, “Give him one of those vials.”
-
Joel sacrificing his time and effort for your father was unfathomable to you. Sure, Joel was a great friend of your Dad’s, but he truly didn’t owe you two anything. It made you enamored with him even more. 
As the day shifted into the evening, you sat by your Dad’s bed and waited for the antibiotics to kick in. His body needed rest, you knew that much because he slept more than he probably ever had in his lifetime. 
He was sweating out a fever, so every so often you’d pat his head with a cold rag. He would mumble a quiet “thank you” and then return to snoring. As the sun sets, you welcome Sidney back for her night shift. She checked your Dad’s vitals, telling you his lungs are already sounding a bit better. You stretch and yawn, cracking every bone in your body while you do. You were stuck in the same position for so long, elbows on your knees, your chin propped up by your hands. 
You had a long trip ahead of you, and you couldn’t lie, you were scared half to death. You did not want to come back and find your father dead. You were also terrified about going back outside of Jackson. You spent most of your last 20 years living in the wild and shitty QZ’s. You were always on edge out there, and then you found Jackson. Ever since then, life has been a little more hopeful. You were able to form relationships and have some simple enjoyment, after all this time. 
Your Dad finally wakes up when you start stirring more. His one eye opens first which makes you crack a smile. 
“Mornin’ Pops,” You joke, grabbing his warm hand, “That antibiotic should start working soon. You’ll be better in no time.”
“Yeah,” He croaks, “But I heard you’re going somewhere.”
You bite your lip, afraid to stress him out. You knew he would worry about you, he always did.  
“Yeah, me and Joel are going to get more supplies. Nothing too drastic,” You lie, brushing your thumb over his scarred knuckles, “You trust Joel enough to take care of me?”
It was the first time he laughed in the last 24 hours, “Course he will. He knows how much you mean to me. If he fucks up, he will get a load of me, that’s for sure.”
His voice was reassuring to hear, especially since he’s joking with you. 
“Okay, I believe you,” You mutter, “We leave tomorrow morning, so I need you to be good and get all the rest you can. I want you up and moving when I get back, you hear me?”
“Roger that, kiddo.”
-
“Mornin’ sunshine,” Your tone is sarcastic and Joel can tell. You did not expect to be stuck with Joel Miller alone for a week, especially outside the walls. 
He clears his throat as he finishes packing up his horse. 
“Mornin’,” He grumbles, patting his horse’s mane, “Let’s get you all set up. You’ll be takin’ your Dad’s horse, Ranger. He is already saddled up, just need to get your stuff on there.”
Luckily, you packed light. You brought a couple of changes of clothes, some food, some camping gear, and of course, your gun. 
Joel helps you tie down your bag and ensures all the straps he just put on are tight enough for you. You just watch him, enjoying how just takes control of the situation. He had the father instinct, always making sure everything would be safe and secure for the girls he loved. Or liked. Whatever.
You thank him, grabbing onto the saddle and flinging yourself up onto the horse. Ranger was truly your favorite horse in all of Jackson. He was the best behaved and the biggest. His mane was long and black and he loved to be brushed. You spent a lot of evenings riding him for fun, just enjoying his company. 
Joel gets on his horse, adjusting how he sits before he takes the reigns and guides you towards the main gates of Jackson. 
“You still sure you’re ready for a run like this?”
He’s giving you a chance to back out. But this was now an obligation. If you didn’t do this, you would indebted to everyone. You would be the person to blame if someone’s loved one died. Not really, but you felt that guilt. 
“Readier than I’ll ever be, Joel.”
-
“How is Ellie doing?”
You were burning to make conversation. You needed to rid your mind of all the anxiety surrounding your own life. Joel was too quiet, it made you feel queasy. He was too wrapped up in his thoughts. You were about 20 miles outside of Jackson, the sun was coming up through the foliage. 
He inhales sharply, “She’s a teenage girl. She’s grumpy.”
You grip onto the reigns of your horse, your body swaying back and forth with the trot. 
“I remember being that young and being constantly annoyed by my Dad’s nagging,” You chuckle, remembering the days of angst, “Are you annoying her, Joel?”
Joel scrunches his face at such allegations. If anything, Ellie was annoying him. 
“Course I’m not! Just… want to make sure she’s doing good. Which she is. Everyone tells me ‘bout how helpful she is.”
You think back to the last interaction you had with Ellie. She had been helping out at the stables when you were in charge of feeding and cleaning the horses before you got the job at the Tipsy Bison. Ellie wanted to know everything you knew, pestering you with silly questions like what their names were and why they were named what they were. 
“She’s very helpful,” You acknowledge, thinking about how enthusiastic she always was about learning, “You raised her right.”
He huffs, “Was hardly me. She’s just smart and raised herself.”
You did not quite understand the history between Joel and Ellie, but you knew Joel was not her biological father. You had no clue how they found each other or when. But you could see the love Joel had for Ellie. You remember him lighting up when he explained to you and your dad how she was the best shot amongst the recruits. 
Joel will probably never indulge you in the specifics of his relationship with Ellie, simply because it’s complicated. He never felt the need to explain himself to anyone but Tommy. 
“You had a hand in some of it, Joel. Give yourself a little credit.”
But Joel was never good at that. He was hard on himself, weary to accredit any of Ellie’s behavior to himself. 
The rest of the ride was occupied with the sound of leaves rustling. Joel spots a fallen tree that he says would be a good eating spot. You agree, hopping down off your horse with ease. You tie his reins up on a nearby branch and start digging through your saddle bag for the apple you packed for yourself. You were sick with unease all day. With everything going on in your life, the last thing on your mind was hunger. Plus, you were alone with a man that you had to put all your trust in. 
You pop a squat on the chipping bark and get out your pocket knife to start cutting the red fruit. Joel gets out a bag of jerky from his pack and finds a spot next to you. He looks over at you, perplexed at your food choice. 
“Just some fruit?” Joel interrogates, instantly knowing your hunger cannot be satiated by apples. No one can be satisfied with only fruit. 
Your stomach churns at your first bite, “Just not that hungry.”
That’s all the explanation he needs. You watch as he starts to munch on his bagged meat, cringing at the sound of his mouth. You try to block it out, but it’s eating away at your brain. You hated the sound of chewing, it was such a stupid pet peeve, but you couldn’t help yourself. Joel is oblivious, probably not even hearing how loud he’s being. You smack his arm out of instinct, something you did to your dad when he was being too obnoxious. 
He looks down at you with furrowed brows and annoyed eyes. 
“You’re eating too loud,” You say, wanting to smack yourself at how stupid it sounds out loud. 
He looks away, completely flabbergasted at the reaction. “Eating too loud? Really?”
You feel embarrassed for letting your brain get the best of you. So you just cut more of your apple off and slowly crunch on it. You try your best not to hyper-fixate on your chewing. When you’re in a trance, lost in your thoughts, Joel nudges you back. He’s getting you back, now. 
“Now you’re chewing too loud,” He jokes, popping another piece of his jerky in his mouth, “Should probably keep it down. So loud you may attract some infected.”
You can’t help but smile at his stupid rebuttal. You give him props for making you feel less foolish. 
“Sorry,” you mumble, eating another slice intentionally loud, “Can’t help myself. They are just so crunchy.”
You hear him giggle, his smile easing your churning stomach. 
“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll forgive you this one time.”
-
You knew the ride to this hospital would be long, but you didn’t realize how barren the landscape would be. You also didn’t realize how bad your ass would hurt. You and Joel finally pull off into some woods when the sun starts to set. Joel acts like he knows exactly how to navigate the woods, guiding his horse deeper and deeper. In between some large trees, you spot a lake. 
“Wanna go swimming?” You question after hours of no conversation. He glances back at you with a sly smirk on his face. When you look to your right, you notice a small path. Joel clicks his tongue for his horse to follow it. You two trot through the leaves, before coming upon a small decrepted cabin.
“This is us,” He states as he halts his horse. 
He had secretly always pictured taking you out here. He could not help but insert you into his small fantasies. Some nights he would imagine what it would be like to have you stick by his side forever. He always felt guilty afterward. 
You look at the building in wonder, completely speechless. You assumed you would be camping on the forest floor, not in an intimate cabin by a lake. You swing your leg over and slide off your saddle. Joel starts to tie up his horse nearby and you follow suit. You continue to look at the cabin, curious as to who kept up with it. It looked well maintained, besides some cobwebs at the peak of the roof. 
“Is this yours?”
He shakes his head, “No. Technically Tommy’s. He goes this way to get to another settlement about 50 miles south. He found this place on a whim and cleaned it up.”
You look around the area, seeing there’s even a fire pit right by the water. It had chairs and stones to outline the charred wood. You could not help but imagine what this place was before Tommy found it. How many fun nights were probably spent here by the original owner? If you had no one to go back to, you would just live here. But the more you think about that scenario, you think about how lonely you would probably get. Maybe if you had someone to stay with you. 
You finally look back at Joel. He’s standing on the stone path with his eyes locked on you. You get self-conscious for a moment, realizing he probably noticed how entranced you were with the surroundings. 
That’s exactly what he was thinking, too. How beautiful you stood in the shadows of the trees, your eyes curiously glancing around like a kid in a candy shop. You had him wrapped around your finger without even knowing it. 
“You good if we stay here overnight? Get back on the road tomorrow?”
How could you ever say no to an offer like that? 
You nod, swallowing back your insecurity, “Yeah, for sure.”
-
Joel could build a good fire. Watching him gather all the wood and place them into a perfect formation. As soon as he lights it, it builds and builds. When the warmth envelopes you, you start to finally feel at ease. Joel sits down with a stick, nudging the fire every so often.
He felt guilty. He felt like he was betraying your father, a man who was trusting him with his daughter. He should not be imagining how a little life in the woods would look like with you. He should not be picturing how beautiful you would look underneath him. He should not be having these devious thoughts about you. His eyes are trained on the flames as they build, trying to push those daydreams away. 
When his sleeve lifts as he toys with the charred wood, you notice the watch on his wrist. It looks ancient, the face of it shattered. You don’t realize you’re staring at it until he snatches his hand away from your view. 
“Sorry,” You retract, sitting further into the chair, “Your watch is broken.”
He places the stick next to his foot, finally out of his head for a moment, “Yeah, I’m aware.”
You were so stupid. You know not to pry further, knowing there’s probably a story and you don’t feel like you’re at a stage with Joel Miller to dive deeper. He notices how small you making yourself, and it makes him feel bad. He never wants to make you insecure. 
“Your necklace,” He starts, trying to place your mind somewhere else. It was a feature on your body that he noticed ages ago, but he never tried to beg the question, so this seemed like a great time to move the subject along. “Is it a moon?”
You reach up to your throat, feeling for the necklace you never took off. It feels like he almost wants to see if you will spill your story first. He is bad at reading women, sometimes. Most of the time. 
“Yeah, it was my sister’s.”
He feels stupid, instantaneously. As soon as those words fell from your lips, he put his face in his hands. 
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
Your feelings towards what happened 20 years ago were drastically different than how you feel now. You could still feel the horror and the pain you felt, but it wasn’t so gut-wrenching anymore. It honestly doesn’t even feel like it happened to you. 
You drop the crescent moon charm from your hands, “No, it’s okay. She died on outbreak day. She was a bit older than me, her name was Reagan.”
He looks up at you and just nods, taking in the information. You don’t know if it’s a gesture for you to continue to talk, but you take it as just that. 
“Her and my mom were at one of her soccer games when all hell broke loose. From what I heard, she was bit by one of her teammates and when me and my Dad were packing up our things to get out of there, I grabbed some of her stuff. A necklace, a sweatshirt, and her favorite pair of sneakers. I don’t know why. But yeah, this necklace is the only thing that survived 20 years. Sweatshirt got too small, shoes got too torn up.”
You don’t even notice the tears pricking in your eyes until you blink. You don’t even remember what she looks like, her face is kind of jumbled in your memory. You remember her hair though, long and brown and super curly. Joel just listens, his eyes trained on your hands as you nervously rub them together. When you peer up at him, you see the mutual pain written on his face. 
He thinks to his beautiful Sarah. His eyes fall to his broken watch. The pain is still very palpable. 
“‘m glad we have somethin’ from our people. Somethin’ to remember them by, ya’ know?”
You scan his broken watch and nod timidly. “Yeah, something to remember them by.”
-
You stand up after eating some more food you packed, ensuring you’re somewhat nourished before you go to sleep. Joel stares at the fire, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. He knows he has to sleep, but he knows you need it more. He’s willing to give up his hours for yours. 
“You want me to do first watch?” You quiz, hoping to get the answer no. Instead, he just shrugs. You cross your arms, a cool shiver going down your back as you step away from the fire. 
“I’ll start first,” He mumbles, grabbing his poking stick, “There’s a bed in there all ready for you. Get some rest, we got a long day tomorrow.”
You respond with a slight wag of your head, “Okay, goodnight, Joel.”
You turn on your heels and head towards the front door of the cabin. You creak the door open. It’s pitch black so you step back onto the small porch to grab the lantern Joel lit a while ago. You slowly creep through the one-room cabin, placing the lantern on the small table by the door. It lit up most of the room so you got a great look at the wooden framed bed, waiting for you to lay upon it. 
You feel a pang of guilt making Joel sit outside to guard you as you slept. You knew you needed rest. You also knew it would start getting colder and colder and that fire would die eventually. 
Joel could handle himself, after all. You would just have to push your worry aside. When you curl up onto the hard mattress, you think back to the last time you were left to trust another man to look after you as you slept. It was a traumatizing night, so instead of worrying yourself, you close your eyes and remind yourself that Joel is safe. Dad trusts Joel. Joel is a good man. 
Sleep eventually takes over, your soft snores rattling off the wooden walls. 
After a couple of hours, the shivering takes over Joel’s body, so he creeps into the cabin. The lantern is dimmer, slowly running out of fuel. He shakes his head, smiling to himself at your disregard for resources. He walks over to the small wood-burning oven, opening the door to it as quietly as he can. You don’t even stir. You’re a deep sleeper, he would remember. 
He starts a fire with the old coals, warming up the small space. Once he stands up from his squat, he hisses at the crack of his knees. He glances over at you, making sure he did not wake you. Nothing. 
You were a peaceful sleeper, your mouth slightly ajar. To Joel, you were always so beautiful. Not even just your looks, but your kind and reserved nature. You always gave him a delighted smile when he looked your way. You were dedicated to always being there for your father, which would always melt his cold heart. He would always watch you with a careful eye, praying that you would somehow get older or him, younger. He hated himself for admiring you so often, especially since he respected your father so much. But you were right there. 
He sat himself in the old recliner chair near the door, peaking out the window every so often. He would always find himself training his eyes back on you, watching your chest rise and fall slowly. 
It takes everything in him not to curl up next to you. 
-
The second day starts off a bit rough. 
When you wake up in the early morning hours, you take notice of a sleeping Joel in the corner of the room. You spring up, loudly rattling the bed frame. It sends Joel jumping out of his skin, his eyes flying open to look at you.
You are panting like you just ran a mile. 
“Jesus Christ, girl,” He barks, his tone tired but also vicious, “Thought someone had you at gunpoint.”
“You were sleeping!”
“Shit, yeah I was, wasn’t I?” His tone is more relaxed, sort of annoyed. He rubs his eyes, glancing outside. Your horses were still there and it doesn’t seem like you guys have been ransacked. 
You clench your fists, “You’re lucky we didn’t get shot in our sleep or something.”
He rolls his eyes, slowly rising from the chair he took over, “That’s a little dramatic, sweetheart. We are fine.”
After that comment, you did not want to talk to Joel Miller. 
You also start to question if you can trust him. He should’ve woken you up to take charge of the watch, but instead, he ignorantly fell asleep and risked your life. 
When you pack up to leave, he realizes how rattled you are. He wants to apologize, but he’s too stubborn to do so. You were being dramatic. But he shouldn’t have said that. He should’ve kept that comment to himself. He was never really good at holding his tongue, always saying the first thing on his mind. 
-
When the sun sets on the second day, Joel promises you two should be in Salt Lake the next afternoon. The whole day pretty much consisted of you two bickering about state capitals. He swears the capital of Pennsylvania is Philadelphia. 
“It’s not, it’s Harrisburg,” You would say. 
You also talked about times before the Infection. He mentions his daughter, Sarah, telling you about how she used to play soccer and she loved going to the Texas State Fair. It makes your heart happy to hear him light up about her, but it makes you want to cry hearing a father talk about his dead child. You can’t imagine that type of pain, and you hope you never do. He doesn’t even know why he’s suddenly baring his soul to you, but he starts to feel like his walls are falling away and he’s comfortable around you. 
He tells you about how he plays the guitar, which you lock onto quickly. 
“You’ll have to show me how good you are,” You smile, imagining Joel Miller strumming along to some folksy song you request. He can only imagine what type of music you would want to hear from him. 
“When we get home,” He mutters, “I'll give you a performance.”
“I cannot wait.”
The conversation with you was easy. You could get anything out of him, pretty much. You were a lot like your father, but softer. He enjoyed your company a bit more. Your laugh was infectious and you were a lot easier on the eyes, of course. When you two stop for a break, he watches as you look for four-leaf clovers on the forest floor. When you find one, you pick it up and bring it over to his hunched-down frame. 
“My mom used to say they were for love and luck,” You explain, “Think you need it for both.”
He knew you were joking by the way you giggle and return to your spot on the ground. He just shakes his head and sticks the clover in his jacket pocket. 
-
He was dreading being back in Salt Lake. He doesn’t want to relive that day when Ellie was practically ripped from him. It sent him spiraling just thinking about all the outcomes that could’ve transpired that day. 
He contemplates telling you for a few brief seconds. 
He wouldn’t have much to lose, especially now that everything is said and done. But then fear takes over and he wonders, would you judge him for it?
He imagines how you would react. How your nose would probably scrunch up, how your disposition towards him would soon contort into horror. You would probably call him a monster. You would probably never look at him the same way, with that beautiful smile and attentive gaze.
“You okay, Joel?”
You two were positioned on the edge of some woods off a dirt road. Joel didn’t want to attract anyone with fire, so you two decided you would just camp on the ground near the highway you would end up following to get into the city. 
“‘M all good,” He practically whispers, “Just tired. You mind gettin’ first watch?”
You just silently nod, watching him rise from his spot and move over to the sleeping bags you two had set up when you arrived. You watch as he awkwardly wiggles his large frame into a small sack. It makes you giggle a bit. He positions himself with his back to you, his front facing into the woods. He can’t spend his time staring at you like he would like to, he needs to sleep. 
You realize he has a leaf stuck on the back of his head. You couldn’t help yourself, it was going to bother you for as long as you were awake. You stand up and slowly creep up to him. 
You squat down and pluck the leaf out of his thick curls. His head snatches back at you, knitting his brows together in confusion. 
Secretly deep down, you just wanted to find a reason to touch him. 
“Can I help you?”
You give him a shit-eating grin, “Yeah, you just got leaves in your hair. It was going to bother me if I didn’t get it out. You’re very, very welcome.”
He rolls his eyes, “Can I sleep now?”
“Don’t know, I’m already getting bored without you glaring at me.”
You were now on a mission to annoy him, he guesses. 
Without thinking, he responds with a comment that would stick with you all night. 
“Yeah, you like it when I look at you, don’t ya?”
-
The homestretch was only about another 20 miles. You and Joel had made good time, only taking about three days to get to the hospital. After the subtle flirting with Joel the night before, you got a little more ambitious with your advances. 
Before you two took off to get to your destination, you asked Joel if you could change your clothes. You had mud all over your jeans and your shirt was reeking of body odor. The natural deodorants that were handmade in Jackson only did so much. 
“Yeah, make it quick,” He orders, pointing to a more private area of the camp, “There’s some bushes over there.”
“I’m not getting dressed in a bush, Joel. Just look away,” You test, already shrugging off your flannel. He notices your bold move, instantly peeling his eyes away from your direction. This can not be happening to him right now. 
“What the hell,” He murmurs, his hands propped up on his hips, “You’re doin’ this on purpose.”
You feel your cheeks heat up, “Doing what on purpose?”
“Testin’ me. Me and my patience.”
You throw your shirt over your head and grab one of your spare ones from your pack, “Well, if it’s a test, you’re passing with flying colors, Miller.”
He glances back at you without even really thinking, spotting you in your bra with a shirt covering your eyes. It’s almost like when you tell a child not to press a button, and it makes them want to do it even more.
He wanted to keep looking. 
“Fuck,” He says under his breath, trying to push those types of thoughts out of his mind. 
You shimmy off your pants, folding them as soon as you get them off your legs. You needed a shower so bad, you felt so filthy. 
“You think we could stop back at the cabin on the way home? I want to bathe.”
Thinking about you naked and taking a bath made his dick hard. 
“Yes,” He manages to say, “Hurry up, please!”
You grin at his frustration, “Fine, fine. I’m almost done.”
-
You and Joel trot along an abandoned highway, cars littering every lane. It was nothing new to you. You have seen plenty of cities in your lifetime. Each time was a bit different, but for the most part, they were all the same. Riddled with infected and bombed to shit. 
You think back to when Tommy said Joel had been here before. Your mind starts to wonder, and being that you still had a couple of hours before you got to see the actual hospital, you decide to speak up and ask. 
“When was the last time you were here?”
He thinks for a second. He was waiting for these questions. 
“Over a year ago.”
You shake your head, “Was there a reason?”
You had no business prying into Joel’s life, but you felt like after spending days with him, there was some kinship. Maybe even a friendship.
“Ellie’s mom was a Firefly. They had a base camp out here,” He explains, but would he go further? Would he spill all the beans?
It’s technically not his story to tell. But then again, Ellie didn’t even have the truth, so it was a story only he knew. 
You wait before responding, “Did you find her?”
“Who?”
“Ellie’s mom,” You press, glancing around some cars. You are trying to act like you didn’t care, but you could tell from the moment you entered the outskirts of the city, Joel was plagued with the weight of the atmosphere. His shoulders got heavier, his eyebrows further knitted together. He was tense. 
“No, she’s dead. So I brought her home,” He says, half-bending the truth. He’s lying, but not really. Ellie’s mom was dead but that was never the reason they came out here. He just wants to say it, but his chest feels like a weight is pushing down, almost cracking his ribs. He swallowed the guilt. 
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
You didn’t have much else to say, letting the silence eat away at the prickle of your arm hairs as they stood up. You try to relax, but now that you are in the city, it feels real. You traveled all this way for medication so Jackson would not shun you. It sounded kind of stupid, coming all this way in hopes of a stocked Firefly hospital. 
You also traveled all this way with Joel Miller. You managed to speak to him without tripping over every word and poking fun at him. You watched him sleep at night, looking so peaceful in the woods surrounding him. You try to think about the last time you saw him smile. You saw him differently, now. He came all this way to help you and your dad. He is risking a lot, disregarding his duties back home, just so he can be with you and protect you. 
You ponder if things will be different when you get home. Maybe he would talk to you more when he came to the Tipsy Bison. Maybe he would wave back at you when you saw him around town. 
You secretly hoped being next to him for so long would change your relationship with him. 
Joel starts to ride next to you, studying your face as you stare forward. 
“What are you thinkin’ bout so hard over there?” He poses, watching your face twist when he speaks up. 
You lick your lips, “Thinking about what it’s gonna be like when I get home.”
“What do ya’ mean?”
You halt your horse to look over at him. He does the same. 
“We came all this way and I am scared when we get back, you won’t want to talk to me anymore.”
He shakes his head, a slight chuckle escaping his lips, “Kiddo, your dad’s my patrol partner. ‘Course, I’ll still talk to you. You’re always around.”
The nickname makes you cringe. You don’t want to be a kid to him. 
“Right, of course.”
-
When you get to the edge of the city, Joel starts explaining the game plan. How you will get to the hospital, do your sweep as quick as you can, and don’t meander around. He also explains how the exit plan is to drop everything, no matter what, and return to the horses. You see someone? Run. 
You want to say you know how to handle yourself, but you resist and just nod in understanding. 
To your surprise, you two do not run into any hoards. You turn a corner and spot a couple of infected twitching near an old school, and you two carefully back up and go up another block to avoid them altogether. You two don’t say anything to each other as you spot the hospital in the distance. Joel just points forward, having you trot at his side. 
You pull out your gun when you start to hear some clicking nearby. Joel gestures to you to be quiet and continues to the front of the hospital. You two ride your horses to the ambulance drop-off, parking them there. When you jump down, you start to grab your pack so you can fill it with whatever supplies you find. Joel does the same, throwing his leather backpack over his shoulder. You check the magazine of your gun and take off the safety. 
“Okay, we stay close to each other,” He explains in a hushed tone, “Grab whatever you think we need.”
You wiggle your head in agreement. He raises his rifle as you two enter the side door. The hospital is quiet besides the wind blowing through some shattered windows. You click on your flashlight that is attached to your backpack, making sure it’s pointed forward. The main corridor leads you down to some triage rooms and nurse's stations. Joel gestures to you to check out some triage rooms. You find some bandages and some tongue presses. You grab the entire box of bandages and stuff them in your bag. When you return to the hall, Joel is stuffing some of his finds in his pack. 
“No meds yet,” He grumbles. You two press forward, keeping your steps silent. You find some lab rooms off the main hallway and you two scope out each room carefully, your guns still drawn and at the ready. You find more items; some gloves, masks, and some scissors. You pick them up, stuffing them in your back. 
You hear movement from behind you and quickly spin. It’s just Joel, holding a couple of vials of medication. You rush towards him, using your light to see what the vials read. 
levofloxacin 
amoxicillin
“Jackpot,” You murmur, “Any more?”
He grabs a baggie sitting on a table nearby, “Not that I saw.”
You continue searching, not finding much of anything in the drawers. A lot of the stuff is picked through. 
You point to a central staircase, “Wanna go up?”
“Yeah, right behind you.”
Joel was reeling, spotting some areas where blood was splattered across the walls as he walked through the hospital. It was terrifying to put himself back in this exact spot. It felt like a fever dream. Now he had you with him, another person he cared too much about to admit to anybody, let alone himself. He cared about you in a whole different way than he cared about Ellie. 
You trail up the stairs, finding some old labs and nurse's stations. All were picked through. You couldn’t help but notice the blood all over the floor in some areas. You try to figure out what could have transpired here, but you don’t even try to beg the question to Joel. With the look on his face, you are afraid to say much of anything. 
Something bad happened here and he was a witness to it. 
It made you want to hurry up and spare his feelings. Instead of taking careful and methodical steps, you run room to room searching drawers and counters for anything of value. You find some alcohol swabs, safety pins, and some wrist splints. When you get to the last room in the hallway you’re in, you hit the jackpot. It’s a cabinet with some vials. 
You start to quietly read them off to Joel who’s standing on the threshold of the room. 
“Grab them all,” He says, pulling his pack off his shoulder so you can put some into his, “We can find use for ‘em.”
You also find some sutures and unopened syringes. You wish you could get down on your knees and thank whatever god is up there for blessing you with everything. You don’t believe in that though, so instead you excitingly grab Joel’s arm and shake it. 
“Let’s get this all home,” You smile, pressing your fingers harder into his bicep, “Maybe celebrate with something strong from the bar.”
Then you hear it. 
Click. Click. Click. 
Joel grabs your arm back, shoving you behind him. He slings his pack over his shoulder and you do the same. You never had many issues with killing infected, but you did not know what you were dealing with. It was dark and all too quiet for too long. Joel creeps forward, his gun drawn forward to peek out the door. When you do the same, he tucks you back behind him. 
Lining the hallway is about 3 clickers. Your stomach drops as they slowly make their way to the sounds you two made seconds ago. Joel glances back at you, his face very serious and stern. 
You can read the look on his face and being that you dealt with these fuckers before, you know that you need to be silent. He looks back down the hall, spotting an exit in a staircase that’s slightly blocked by one of the clickers. He waves you along as he slowly tiptoes down the hallway. You get closer and closer to the first clicker and your gun is trained right at them as you keep your distance. You can tell by the clothing that it was a woman at one time, the infection growing out of every crevice of her body. 
She clicks and clicks, but does not attack you. You and Joel continue, not making a sound as you shuffle past the next one. But once you get close to the one closest to the door, something snaps and it’s like they all realize exactly all at once. One squeals and the others follow suit. Joel yells for you to run, but you don’t budge, emptying your gun into the closest one. It crumbles to the ground. With that one down, Joel grips your wrist tightly and flings you towards the door. You two rush out as Joel lights up the hallway with gunfire. 
You now know that you’re attracting every infected in a mile radius so time is of the essence. You practically fall down the stairs trying to get to the bottom. Joel does not like how fast you moving, pressing you to run faster. You two sprint down the hallway as two runners come full speed at you from an opposing hallway. You try to shoot but your gun is empty. You scream for Joel to do something and he puts them down expertly. He’s spot on even with the adrenaline coursing through his veins. You find the door you came in from and quickly make your way to Ranger. He seems sort of spooked so you try to gingerly climb up him, grabbing his reigns from the pole you tied him to. Joel is quick to mount his horse. He pulls his horse back, guiding it to head back the way you guys came. 
You follow suit, hearing stirring from all around you as your hair whips in the wind. You are not worrying about the noise you two are making now, galloping down the once-busy streets of Salt Lake City. 
“Don’t stop til’ I say so!” Joel calls out. You can hardly hear with your heartbeat in your ears and the wind against your ear drum. 
You get to the edge of the city after about 20 minutes of dodging left-behind cars and random barriers. You get to the point where the foliage takes over and the infected taper off. You don’t realize it until you start slowing down and your heart gets back to its normal pace, you’re freezing. 
You yell out for Joel, who’s still going quite fast. He halts completely, letting you catch up with his step. 
“We have to stop, I’m freezing.”
You weren’t wearing all your layers and you knew it would be detrimental if you didn’t stop to wrap up before you two continued your journey. Joel nods, trotting off the main part of the road into some woods. 
When you get off your horse, you can feel Joel’s eyes lock onto your vibrating body. 
“Jesus, girl,” He dismounts, wrapping his reigns around a nearby branch, “The wind do you that much damage?”
You can’t help but laugh as you rifle through your pack to find your extra layers. You can remember packing two thermals, but with the way you’re shaking, you can’t even grip onto the clothes to move them around to search. You don’t even realize Joel has come to your side, you only notice when he nudges your side with his three fingers. You move out of his way so he can look, but you can’t help but feel the warmth his gentle touch gives you on your hip. 
He pulls out a thermal, handing it out to you. 
“Just put it over your other long sleeve,” He instructs, digging for another layer for you. You take his advice and throw it over your head. When your head pops through the neck hole, you spot him smirking at you. 
“If you don’t warm up soon, I may have to share my body heat so we can get back on the road,” Joel jokes, watching you pull your hair out of the back of your long sleeve. You didn’t hate the sound of that, truthfully. 
“Guess I will try my best not to warm up then.”
He shakes his head, grabbing onto your other thermal, “You can’t say stuff like that to me, darling.”
“Why not?”
Joel has slipped up a couple of times already, he wasn’t planning on giving in. But the teasing was fun and light-hearted. He knew in his heart it was not going to turn into anything. 
Right?
“Because I don’t think it’s a very good idea for us to talk like that to one another,” He explains, stepping back as you add the other shirt onto your already warming body, “May lead us somewhere we can’t come back from.”
You swallow, “Maybe I’d like that.”
-
It takes you a day and a half to get back to the cabin. Joel promised that you two could spend a whole day there if need be. You two were physically and mentally exhausted. The horses needed rest too, you could tell Ranger was beat. 
When you arrive on the property, Joel makes sure to scope out a radius before you two settle in. Ever since the sly passes you made at him, he’s been more quiet. You can tell he’s deep in thought. Maybe it wasn’t about you, but he had something on his mind. 
You use the fire stove to warm up some water from the lake to give yourself a quick “bath”. You just used an old rag and some bar soap to scrub your limbs, trying to get off all the caked-on dirt. Joel stayed outside by the fire, cooking up some squirrels he was able to trap. You stood in your undergarments, lathering your skin, watching him from the window as he poked at the fire. 
You felt a bit better once you were clean. The growl in your stomach was dull and kind of painful. You needed to eat, so you got your dirty clothes back on and headed outside to prop yourself up next to Joel. 
When you open the cabin door, his head snaps over to you. 
“Howdy, cowboy,” You gleam, walking down to the stump next to him. You couldn’t help but flirt now. It was funny to watch him squirm, the glint in his eyes not hard to notice. 
“You all clean?”
You nod, giving him a cheeky smile. “Yeah, now you go get yourself all cleaned up.”
He grabs his stick poker, “Don’t got any soap.”
“Use mine.”
Joel stops his motion immediately to train his eyes back on you. “You want me to smell like you?”
“Well, I smell delicious, so why not?”
He scans your body with his eyes, “Cause if we get home and your Dad smells your soap on me, he’ll put it bullet between my eyes.”
You know he’s being dramatic, finding any excuse to opt out of using the soap you just used on your body. 
“So, what you’re saying is,” You clear your throat before continuing, “If my dad wasn’t your friend, you’d lather yourself with my soap?”
He contemplates for a moment, “Yeah, and other things.”
Your heart stops beating for a second. Joel can not help but smirk at your reaction. He was playing with fire, literally and figuratively. The tension between you two was so heavy, that you do not think you could even take a deep breath in. 
He stands up from his spot next to you. “Why don’t ya eat, sweet thing? I have to clean myself up, I guess.”
-
Joel can not do this. 
You were his friend’s daughter. Sure you were grown, beautiful, strong-willed, and everything he could want and more but he could not take advantage of you. The only way he felt this way right now was because tensions were so high back in Salt Lake. You two have spent a lot of time together, the hormones… what the fuck is he thinking?
You sit by the fire, your stomach doing back flips as you think about Joel in the cabin, by himself, practically half naked. 
Why were you doing this to yourself?
Your heart is racing faster than it ever has. No clicker, no stranger, nothing has made you this nervous. Your hand reaches for the door handle, but before you can turn it, Joel rips open the door. 
“What do you think you’re doing?”
You stand there, dumbfounded. “I-I don’t know.”
He’s standing over you, his chest rising faster the more you keep your eyes trained on him. He has a green flannel on, the top couple of buttons undone. You lift your hand to touch the skin peeking through, but he stops your movements before you can make contact. You note the scent of wood burning in the cabin and it’s a lot warmer than you left it. Joel must have started the stove again. 
“We can’t.”
You shake your head, “No, we can’t, can we?”
You two know better. You know better. You know better. 
You are breathing in each other’s spaces. You don’t even want to look him in the eyes. His arm snakes around your midsection, pulling you forward into the cabin. At that moment, you knew that you two didn’t know any better. 
It’s almost like you two silently made the decision. 
“We can’t tell anyone about this, sweet girl,” He whispers, his hands still firmly on your back. You could not resist this temptation anymore. He was right in front of you, wanting you just as badly as you wanted him. 
Your eyes glance up at his dark sultry gaze, “It’s our little secret.”
His hand reaches up, gracing your chin with his touch. When he dips down to meet your height, you finally get bold and extend your hand up and around his neck. Your lips connect and you feel like a million little butterflies explode in your stomach. You had never desired a kiss from anyone as much as you did with Joel. 
He’s eager and impatient, though. He’s not as soft as you imagined for a man who hardly spoke. He just wants to feel you everywhere, all at once. His mouth melts into yours, his tongue exploring every inch of yours. He’s moving you around the room, stumbling over furniture and shoes as he backs you into the large wooden bed frame. 
“So fuckin’ perfect,” He mumbles into your lips as soon as he lifts you up onto the mattress. It catches you by surprise, mainly because you never expected him to manhandle you in this way. He’s hungry for every inch of you. After all these months of secretly pining for him and him not giving you any positive response, you never anticipated something like this happening. Especially at a time like this. 
“Joel,” You whine, pulling him down on top of you as you fall back into the flannel blankets, “I need you everywhere.”
He grins peppering kisses down your neck, “Don’t worry, I will treat you so fuckin’ good. Been wantin’ you for so long.”
It was so filthy and hot. Your dad’s patrol partner, his best friend. Keen to make you feel good? And wanting it for a while? You must be imagining his words because you can’t even comprehend the situation. 
But it’s true. Joel’s secretly been watching you when you’re not looking. When you sling drinks on Friday nights, he watches you from a booth in the corner. Tommy’s caught him a couple of times, smacking him and reminding him that you were off limits. When you came to his house with extra pot pie or soup, he would watch you walk away from his house from his living room window. 
This taboo yearning kept him up at night. But now, he has you alone and he needs a taste. 
He pulls back to look at your face, “Are you sure you want me?”
You can’t help but giggle a bit. 
“Joel, I’ve been wanting you for longer than I would like to admit,” You purse your lips as you bring your hand up to trace his collarbone, “Think about you all the time.”
It was the truth. Your mind was taken up but all his little sly comments. The way he would drop anything to help you or your dad. His beautiful brown eyes didn’t help one bit either.
“My god, girl…Gonna have me cumming in my jeans like a teenager.”
He returns to laying kisses all along your body. It started with wet kisses down your neck, only for it to trail right where your shirt begins, right below your collarbones. You push him back for a moment, taking your shirt off over your head. He watched you carefully, ensuring there was no hesitancy with your actions. He wanted to be absolutely positive that this is what you wanted. 
As soon as you reach for the clasp of your bra, Joel grabs your arms away. 
“Let me,” He mumbles, letting his fingers trace along the seam of the black fabric before using his right hand to undo the back. With him this close to you again, you inhale sharply, catching the scent of your soap. 
“See you took up my offer,” You tease, letting your bra fall down your shoulders, “Did you get clean just for this, Miller?”
He catches a glimpse of you under the bra and his mind goes blank. You notice his change in disposition and decide it’s best to discard every other article of clothing completely. You struggle to get your jeans off, so he helps by practically ripping them off your legs. He can’t help but spot the soak undies attached to your jeans. When you are bare under him, he gawks at you for a moment. 
“A beautiful woman like you,” He shakes his head, biting his lip. He unbuckles his pants before he stands and shoves them down his legs. While he’s making an effort to get as naked as you, you start unbuttoning his flannel. He watches you take your time, thumbing each button slowly. He tilts your head back up, his eyes leering at you for a moment. “And you want someone like me?”
You know he’s probably in his own head, so you feel the need to prove to him, that yes this is what I want. 
You grab onto his neck and pull him back down into a passionate kiss. When you notice him give in, you use all your might to push him sideways and onto his back next to you. You mount his lap immediately, holding him down with your body weight. Your soaked slit trudges over his large hard-on while you dip your head to capture his lips. You feel his hands trail up the sides of your body, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He finds your boobs, palming them with his warm calloused hands. You were extra sensitive so as soon as his fingers find your nipples, you’re moaning into his mouth. 
When your hips jet forward, his tip slides between your pussy lips. The sensation sends him into overdrive, his grip on your waist getting tighter. He’s so fucking big. 
“No foreplay, you just wanna grind your pussy right onto my cock?” His question sends shockwaves through your body and you raise your hips up off his crotch. You kneel over him, anticipating to rotate your pelvis back onto him, but he has other ideas. 
Because Joel has been thinking about what you taste like for too long. He can’t just fuck you. He lays back, all the while, dragging you up to his chest so your pussy is hovering over his pursed lips. 
“Joel, what are you doing?”
You feel his hot breath huff onto your slick center, “I’m gonna devour this beautiful pussy, first. Need to get you warmed up.”
Without any warning, he wraps his arms around your thighs and pushes your center closer to his outstretched tongue. You gasp when he starts to run his tongue up and down your slit. You can’t help but settle around his face, your knees feeling like they may already give out. 
You’ve never sat on someone’s face and watched them eat you out like a starved man. But Joel is precise with his motions, his mouth wrapping around your clit. When he starts to suck, the suction noise makes you whimper and shake. You have only ever cum by your own hand, so when the familiar heat rises in your stomach, you know instantly this is going to be the best sex you’ve ever had in your life. 
Joel is a very easy man to please. He thoroughly enjoys watching women crumble above him, their orgasms surging through their bodies while his tongue is pressed into them. But with you, he wants to drudge it out of you over and over again. You’re so magnetic on top of him, your head thrown back in pleasure. Your hands rest on your shoulders as you grind down on him, your peak teetering the edge. He shimmies his hand in between your thighs and begins to use his fingers in you, just to drive you crazier. He’s fucking up into you with his pointer and middle fingers, managing to latch onto your clit while he does. 
When you tumble into bliss, Joel moans into you, egging on your spasms. You lurch forward, dragging your center off his drenched lips. Your legs are limp as you try to crawl up the bed. Joel rolls over, creeping up the bed with you. You lay on your back, propping yourself up onto some of the pillows. 
“Do you need a break?” He asks, his hands feeling up your bare, still kind of shaking, thighs. You shake your head “yes” and breathe out loudly. Your body is covered in a light sheen, the sweat pooling around your hairline. Joel lets you take a moment, making sure you are completely ready for him. 
When you finally meet his eyes, your stomach fills with butterflies. He’s admiring you from his position, his eyes not finding yours until he’s done checking out your bare chest. You giggle, tugging on his wrists. He takes up your advances, positioning himself above you. He’s caging you in with his tanned strong arms, only allowing you to really move your upper body. You tangle your hands through his messy dark peppered curls, which makes him sigh. He secretly loved it when women felt through his hair. 
“Fuck me,” He groans as he reaches down between you, grabbing ahold of his hard member. You watch as he drags it through your heat, gathering all your wetness before teasing your entrance. 
“Joel, please.”
He smirks, pushing in just his tip, “Please what, baby girl? You want me to give you all of it?”
You are already overstimulated after your last orgasm and you are a bit nervous to imagine what all of it is. You nod, though, because the stretch is already so delicious. 
“Please, Joel, please. I need it,” You whine, knowing how desperate you sound. It’s music to Joel’s ears. 
“Shh, baby,” He eases in further, “I told you I’m gonna treat you real good. Gonna treat this pussy, so fuckin’ good.”
When he’s fully sheathed in you, your nails are digging into his shoulders. When he eases back to pull out some to ensure you can take it, you’re a moaning mess. It only eggs him on, feeling how slick you are and how tight you are around him. 
“That’s right baby, take all of me,” He says as he lifts himself off you. You have nothing to grip onto now, except the sheets that line the queen-sized bed. Joel wants to watch himself slip out of you and go back into you with ease. You love the friction, but you know you need more. 
You don’t know how, but it’s like he reads your mind. He starts to increase his pace, holding onto the back of your thighs as he drills into you. The curvature of his dick hits exactly where no man could ever reach. 
“Oh my god, fuck Joel! Fuck!”
Your words only encourage him to go harder and faster.
“Keep screamin’ my name, baby doll.”
The sweat is dripping down his face with how much effort he’s putting into fucking you. You’re floored at how quickly your orgasm builds again, the sounds of him plowing into you alone sends you into overdrive. 
As soon as you start to vibrate under him, Joel takes that as a great time to start thumbing at your clit. You feel every one of your nerve endings burning with such rapture, that you can’t even say anything. You’re just howling, no coherent words even coming out. Your vision goes white.
The scene is something out of the old pornos Joel used to watch. You’re writhing under him, the orgasm practically sending you cross-eyed. You reach up to anchor yourself down and the only thing you can find to grab is Joel’s forearm. 
“Yes, Joel!”
His hips continue to snap into yours as you squeeze his cock with your gyrating hips. He’s fucking you through it, watching your face contort. Your grip on his arm hurts, but he does not care. It’s unbelievably hot to watch the girl he has adored from afar cumming around him. Over and over. 
The scene is enough to have him chasing down his own high. The feeling of your cunt gripping onto him so tight, while his name is chanted from your lips, the cum practically shoots out of him before he has time to grab his shaft and pull out. He does not empty himself in you though, quickly prying himself out of your weeping hole and spilling out the rest onto your stomach. 
“Shit.”
You don’t even realize what happened, not caring about really anything except for how wonderful and high you feel. Joel tumbles onto his side, half of his body resting on yours. His mouth is close to your ear so he whispers it to you, his voice shaky. 
“I came inside you.”
You lick your lips, trying to regain some saliva in your mouth, “I do not care, Joel.”
He does not prefer that answer, but he accepts it for the time being. You could not feel your face at the moment, you did not have time to worry yourself over Joel cumming inside you. It was not the first time someone did that. 
Joel rolls off the bed, his legs feeling wobbly with his first steps. He’s still half hard and stumbling over to the bowl of water he just used to clean off himself. He grabs a clean rag and soaks it in the soapy water. The least he could do was clean up his mess. 
You watch him trudge over to you, the cum still pooled on your stomach and a bit in your belly button. 
Joel places the warm towel on your lower tummy, wiping up his mess. 
“Thanks,” You manage to say, your post-orgasm haze wearing off a bit. Now you’re just cold and exhausted. You shiver as soon as he removes the towel from your buzzing body. He notes it immediately and grabs the blanket that had been kicked to the floor. He lays it over you, making sure your full nude body is covered by the chilly air. 
“I need to go take a leak, I’ll be right back.”
You try to stay awake. But as soon as he gets some clothes on and heads outside to relieve himself, you’re lulled to sleep by the sounds of the rustling woods that surround the cabin. 
-
When you slowly open your eyes, you instantly notice how dry your mouth is. The itchy fabric of the blanket is tickling your bare limbs as you shift. Joel’s not beside you. 
You sit up, glancing around the cabin. His stuff is still here, but he is not. You keep the scratchy blanket wrapped around you as you plant your bare feet on the wooden floor. As soon as you take your first step forward towards the front door, it slowly swings open. 
Joel stands there, fully clothed, cheeks reddened from the cold outdoors. 
“Mornin’,” He says with a sleepy voice, “Got up early to get the horses fed and saddled up.”
All you remember is him going to pee outside last night, right before you fell asleep. “Did you ever come to bed last night?”
“Yeah, only got a couple of hours of sleep. You took up most of the bed.”
You clear your throat, becoming hyper-aware suddenly that you are very naked under the blanket. Joel tries not to notice your natural sensuality when you wake up. Sleepy eyes, swollen lips, slightly tangled hair. Even if last night never happened, he would be completely enamored by you. 
“Oh, okay,” You mutter, trying to act natural about the fact that you slept with Joel fucking Miller last night. “We all set then?”
He shuts the front door, cutting off any more cold from slipping in. You watch him slowly start to invade your space. He feels pulled towards you, the gravity overcoming every sense he has. He needs to be close to you, touching you, feeling you. 
“Yeah, we are all set.”
Chills run down your spine when his cold hand reaches out and grazes your cheek. You flick your eyelashes towards him, not knowing what to say next. He dips down to your height, kissing your lips carefully. He is nervous you will back away from him, but you don’t. You lean forward into him, the weight of your entire body pressing into him. 
He is the first to pull away, but you swear you could be latched onto him forever. His big brown eyes are lasered in on your eager lips, but in the back of his mind, he knows that you two need to get back home soon. He promised Tommy four days, nothing more. And you needed to get home to your Dad. Fuck. Your Dad. His fuckin’ friend. 
“We have to get home,” Is all he says. 
And then he’s gone. It’s like he blipped out of the room. You blink and the door slams and you are alone again. 
-
You stumble out of the cabin with your backpack on, your eyes adjusting to the sunshine between the falling away leaves. Winter creeps in so quickly in Wyoming, you think to yourself. 
Joel is already posted up on his horse, waiting for you to hurry along and join him. You pet Ranger for a moment before you hop up onto his back. He can’t help but realize how perfect you seemed in the sunlight. Your face hasn’t aged with time like his. It makes sense because you’re so much younger than him. You’ve lived a very full and traumatic life, sure, but you still had a lot more energy to live. He couldn’t picture that you’d want to spend the rest of it with an older guy with maybe 20 more years left in him if you’re lucky. 
The thoughts start to eat away at him as you two make your way through the forest. 
You assume he’s just tired from not getting a lot of sleep, so you just keep your lips sealed until you make it to the main trail back home. 
“So, when we get home,” You break the quietness with your open-ended statement. Joel doesn’t know what you’re insinuating, so he just keeps his head forward. “What happens, then?”
He pulls back his horse's reins to position himself looking directly at you. 
“What do you mean?”
You look at him suspiciously, “Do we tell people?”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Joel thinks. 
“Tell them what?”
He has to be messing, right? You think. 
But no, he’s deadly serious. 
“About us,” You remark as Ranger trots a bit closer to Joel. He shakes his head and your heart sinks. He can’t do this, not after you two slept together. 
“There is no us,” He grumbles, unable to look you in the eyes anymore, “We can’t do that. You’re too young.”
If you weren’t on a horse, you would’ve already smacked him. “What the hell, Joel? What if you get in my pants and make me feel special and now we are nothing? Because I’m a little bit younger than you?”
“No, it’s not like that-”
“Well, it seems like it is like that,” You bite the inside of your cheeks, holding back every instinct to burst into tears, “Fuckin’ asshole. I should’ve known better.”
-
When the walls of Jackson come into your line of sight, you could cry with excitement. Your hands were shaking, not only from the cold but the nerves. You had been silent the entire ride back. Your only desire was to get home to your Dad and ignore Joel Miller for the rest of your life. 
You can only hope and pray that your father is on the mend. To keep on track and not let panic take over, you’ve tried to put your mind on other things this whole trip. Most of those things you wish you’d forgotten, already. 
The doors open when you two get close. When the crack is big enough to see through, you spot some familiar faces waiting for you. Tommy, Maria, and even your father. He’s standing up straight, wrapped in layers of jackets and blankets. You tap Ranger with your foot, getting him to speed up. When you reach about 30 feet away, you practically fall off him to get your arms around your father. 
A sense of relief floods your body. A tidal wave of happiness and solace. He’s okay. He’s alive. 
When his scent reaches your nose, it triggers your tear ducts. After years of never having to really worry about him, knowing he can handle himself, you have felt this constant state of uneasiness the last week. 
“My baby is back,” He grumbles into your hair, his arms locking around you, “I knew I could trust that Joel.”
You don’t have time to feel guilt over your actions, you’re just so happy he’s upright. You also don’t want to hear his God-forsaken name from your own Dad. When you pull back to inspect his face, you note the tiredness in his eyes. He looks better, but not his normal. You grab each end of the blanket that’s slowly slipping off his shoulders and bundle him tighter. 
“Let’s get you back in the warm, how ‘bout it?”
You glance back at Joel who just nods, knowingly. You remember that you still have your backpack on, so before you stroll away, you shimmy out of it. Tommy watches you carefully as you hand it off to Joel. 
“Get those meds to the infirmary,” You whisper to no one in particular. Joel studies your face, waiting for you to say something else. You do not. As he grabs your pack, you feel like Maria and Tommy are gawking at you two. Like they know something was left unsaid. 
You two move differently around each other. When you shift one direction, Joel follows suit. 
Joel feels like every eye in Jackson is on him. Tommy’s being the most piercing, watching him like a hawk as he grabs his horse and guides him towards the stables. While you stroll away with Maria and your father, Joel and Tommy bring the horses and supplies to the stables. 
As you walk, you listen to Maria explain your father’s steady recovery. She mentions how Ellie has been keeping a careful eye on him. After she heard you and Joel were going to be gone together, she asked Maria if she could help him somehow. Once your dad got well enough to walk, she got him settled in your house. She’d go over there for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, just to help. It makes your heart swell when you hear your dad say how kind and generous she was, just like you. 
-
Joel starts to unpack your bags from your horse first when he gets the horses parked. 
“Somethin’ happen out there?” Tommy presses, noticing how odd you and Joel moved in front of him, “With her?”
“No, nothin’,” He lies, placing your bags on a table near Ranger. When he lifted the first duffle bag, he got a whiff of you and it made his stomach sink. “We just had a rough spot in the hospital. Clickers and shit. Nothin’ too crazy-”
“Joel, I know when you’re lyin’ to me,” His eyes are shooting daggers now. Joel was too old to be pestered by his little brother. He groans in annoyance but Tommy does not give up, “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do nothin’, Tommy.”
“Bullshit,” He grumbles, grabbing one of your bags, “Want me to ask her?”
“You won’t get anythin’ out of her. She’s mad at me, okay? She is pissed I won’t…”
He feels humiliated, his stomach twisting into knots. He would never intentionally hurt you. He just put his foot in his mouth when he realized how much your actions would change everything for him. He could not just be someone you slept with. He could not just leave it. 
“You won’t what, Joel?”
He bites his lip, not wanting to say it out loud. 
“I won’t let her ruin her life for me.”
Tommy’s eyebrows furrow, not completely understanding what he’s droning on about. 
“What?”
“Jesus Christ, Tommy!” Joel wasn’t anticipating a shake-down when he got home. You two really didn’t help with those looks splattered across your faces when you rolled into Jackson.
“You slept with her, didn’t you?”
Joel shakes his head, peeling his eyes away from Tommy. Joel knew nothing could get past him, so he is practically surrendering. Tommy knew then. 
“You dumbass,” He whispers, getting closer to Joel, “You slept with her when her daddy is your patrol partner? After I told you to stay away?”
Joel clenches his teeth, “I don’t need this right now. I’m gettin’ these meds to the infirmary and then I’m takin’ her stuff to her.”
“Joel-”
“Just fuckin’ drop it, Tommy. I ain’t doin’ this.”
-
Your Dad has a nice setup, thanks to Ellie. She has transformed the downstairs guest room into a wonderful stay, with tons of pillows and bedside service. When you get inside the house, Ellie is there. She stands in the corner of the living room, timidly, as you guide your dad back to his warm bed. Maria and her wait for you to handle getting him back to his bedroom. Even though his recovery has been a steady incline, he’s very weak and exhausted all the time. It’s his body’s reaction to fighting a rough illness, but he made sure to reassure you that Sidney told him it’ll be a couple of weeks before he’s 100% back to normal. 
You get him back in bed, his eyes already drooping to find slumber again. You manage to get his shoes off and help him under his covers. Once his head hits the pillow, you stand by the bed for a minute to ensure he’s actually sleeping. You slip out of the room, and the sudden rush of comfort of being home takes over your senses. To hear the crackling of the fireplace, and the smell of your homemade candles. While you enjoyed every moment spent with Joel, there’s nothing like home. 
For a second there, you thought you had that same feeling being next to him in bed. But maybe you were wrong. 
You walk out to where Maria and Ellie stand. They are mumbling to each other while you kick off your boots by the door. 
“Hey, Ellie,” You catch her attention, her freckled face down turning with concern. You smile, trying to ease her, “Thank you for all you’ve done here. I am glad he had someone like you looking after him.”
She nods, her lips twitching, “It’s no problem at all. I know how much you two mean to Joel and I just wanted to do what I could.”
Hearing his name sinks your heart, “We owe ya one.”
Because you did. No matter what would eventually transpire between you and Joel, you owe him your father’s life. His idea saved him. With how sick he was, Joel’s quick plan was enough to bring him home. Then for Ellie to spend her days looking after him while you two were gone? You were forever indebted to them. Sadly. 
“Well, we should leave you to get settled. Let us know if you need anything at all,” Maria gestures to Ellie towards the front door. Their footsteps trail around you, heading to your front door. Before Ellie can reach for the handle, there’s a knock. You nod your head, letting her know it’s okay to open it. 
Joel stands there, your bags in his hands. 
You honestly just left your belongings for him to deal with. Joel looks down at Ellie, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her. She’s not as impressed, initially. 
“Hey kiddo,” Joel acknowledges, before spotting Maria, “Mrs. Miller.”
“We were just heading out,” Maria says, pushing the door wider so she and Ellie can slip by his large frame, “Give the girl her things and let her settle back into her life, huh?”
Joel was already annoyed at the narrowed eyes and judgemental jabs. It’s like everyone somehow knew he fucked up. 
You two watch Maria and Ellie leave, their breaths forming clouds in the cold sharp air. Jackson’s weather changed overnight, you think, remembering how it was more tolerable before you left. 
“Can I come in?” Joel ponders, still holding your backpack and duffle. 
It was cold and while you wanted to slam the door on him, you know you can’t. You move away from the threshold, gesturing for him to come in. His footfalls are heavy and drawn out. You shut the door, waving him towards the living room so your voices don’t carry down the hallway to your father’s newly set up bedroom. 
He places your bags on the couch before he stretches his shoulders in discomfort. Your stuff was not that heavy, but Joel could not help but try to draw your attention. He glances around your living room, taking in some of the artwork and photos that line the walls. Some are old photos of you and your father, in which you don’t really resemble him at all. 
“Back to how things were, huh?” You remark, bitterly. You wanted to attack him with every mean thing plaguing your mind, but you don’t. You were tired from all the travels but you were also tired of the idea of fighting for someone who does not care to fight for you back. You had done that for years with pointless boys. 
The whole walk to your house, Joel’s thoughts were moving a million miles a minute. He did not want you to live your life resenting him. He cared for you deeply, but he did not want you to miss out on all the wonders of life. Joel could not give you kids. He could not give you 40 more years of happiness. He would be an elderly man before you could even reach menopause. He does not want you to regret things when you’re old and gray. 
“I don’t want that. You know damn well I don’t want that.”
You could scream. But you stay even, not giving in to the temptation to just rip him a new one. 
“I don’t know what you want, Joel. One minute you’re kissin’ me and begging to be with me, the next you’re telling me you can’t be with me because I’m too young.”
“Baby-”
“No! Don’t you dare? You had no intention of making this a thing, yet you played into it and got exactly what you wanted. I’m just another notch for you, ain’t I?”
Your hands are clenched, waiting for his delayed response. You are embarrassed and humiliated that you were delusional enough to let Joel toy with every one of your emotions. 
“You know that ain’t true, girl. I just don’t want you to live your life regretting that I was a part of it, okay? You want to spend your days with an old man who can’t give you everything you want? ’m not good for you.”
He can’t let you make this mistake. 
But you’re not easing up. 
“What do you think I want? Kids? A simple life? A picket fence? Joel those are things I wanted when I was living in a world that didn’t have a brain-eating infection that’d turn people into zombies,” You’re huffing and puffing, trying to understand why he thinks he can tell you what you need and want. 
“I spent years of my life wishing I could get those things, but I gave up a long ass time ago. I don’t want those things nearly as much as I want you. I fuckin’ want you, okay?”
You realize you’re not being quiet and your Dad could probably hear every word falling from your lips. He can hear you desperately plead with Joel Miller to be with you. 
Joel is shocked you’re laying all this out. He can’t believe his ears when you say you want him. A man like him being wanted is quite unbelievable, especially by a woman like you. 
You could hear a pin drop with how silent your house is. You fold your arms, trying not to give into the nausea you feel from spilling your soul to him. 
“I just…” He fidgets with his hands for a minute before those puppy eyes glance up at you, “I don’t want to ruin your life.”
You step closer to him, your face inches away from him. You train your eyes on his mouth, unsure how to respond to such blasphemy. 
“I have spent so many days thinking about what it’d be like to live in a world where the Joel Miller would even glance in my direction. I imagined what it’d be like to kiss him,” You’re whispering now, making sure this revelation is for his ears only, “I imagined what it’d be like to have a man who’d treat me well and look… Exactly like you. I have dreamed of you.”
Joel would have never guessed such a statement fall from your lips. 
You breathe out, relieved it’s finally off your chest.
“I just don’t want to leave ya worse than I found ya,” His softness instantly makes you crumble into his arms. He holds you tight, before pulling away to search your face. You teeter forward on your toes, pressing a firm but attentive kiss to his lips. 
When you draw back, “I’m not givin’ you up, Joel.”
The tension is shattered when you hear your Dad yell your name from down the hallway. You snap out of your trance of staring at Joel’s beautiful lips and dart toward the voice. 
“Yeah?”
You open the door and see him, his eyes wide open and focused on the door. 
“Who you talking to out there? Is that Joel?”
Suddenly you’re hyper-aware of every word you just said, scared half to death that your Dad would get out of bed and beat some sense into you. Joel follows you down the dimly lit hallway, but you don’t even hear him, too rattled by your father’s question. 
“Yes, it’s me,” Joel speaks up, coming forward to meet your Dad’s confused expression, “How you feelin’, man?”
“I’m feelin’ like I’m hearing some odd things from down the hall. You two fighting?” His voice is breaking a bit. 
The silence after he asks the question is deafening. You glance over to Joel whose mouth is slightly ajar, unable to move with an answer. You bite the inside of your cheek, wishing you could disappear into the wall nearby. 
Joel cannot lie to his friend. He certainly would never do it with you right beside him. 
“Yeah, you uh, heard us?” He barely manages. 
“Yeah, I sure as hell heard my daughter beggin’ you to take her on, is that true?”
“Dad-“
“My daughter wants to date a man that’s 10 years younger than her own father? Kind of twisted.” He snaps, shoving the blankets off his legs. “But, I am gonna be honest… I expected this.”
You can hardly breathe with the tension in the air. 
“Sorry?”
Joel’s tone is dry, and he’s unable to fully form a coherent thought. 
Your dad coughs before he starts, “Well, I could tell by the way you looked at her that you had a thing for her, Miller. Didn’t think you’d be dumb enough to entertain it.”
“Dad, he’s not dum-“
“And I thought you’d get over this little schoolgirl crush, but I was mistaken, I guess.”
You were used to your Dad’s sarcasm and upfront jabs. You spent a lifetime throwing them back at him, but this time you had nothing to say. You watch as he settles back from obnoxiously tearing off his blankets. 
You fiddle with your fingers, trying not to show your internal anxiety-riddled monologue. He thought you’d get over your crush. He always noticed how Joel looked at you. How did he look at you? How did you never notice?
Joel is spiraling, reverting to his original conclusions. He knew this was a horrible idea. He should have never stepped over the line. He’s a horrible man. You don’t deserve someone as awful as him. 
He smacks his lips, making you and Joel come back down to Earth and out of your heads. 
“Whatever is happenin’ between you two, I probably will never fully understand it. But you are adults, you do whatever makes you happy,” He says with both hands up in surrender, “I am too old to bother with my daughter’s love life. She’s a big girl, I trust her. But Miller, if you hurt her-“
“I’m a dead man.”
Your father laughs which in turn makes you smile crookedly. 
“Just one thing,” He points to you, “I don't want to hear or see anythin’-”
You nod, cutting him off immediately, “Deal.”
Joel catches your eye when he smiles in your peripheral vision. You look over at him, a grin plastered to your face. 
You can’t believe you’re actually going to do this. 
And Joel can’t believe your father somewhat agreed to let it happen. He was sure he would have a gun in his face before he could even mutter a word. But instead, your Dad is receptive to him being with you, which is all you can ask for. 
“Well, get along now, I wanna get back to sleep. You two were keepin’ me up,” Your dad grumbles, readjusting his frail frame to get comfortable in bed. You just nod, pointing at the door for Joel to exit. You follow suit, closing the door behind you tightly, making sure it clicks. Joel stands in the darkness of the hallway, waiting. He is in disbelief. 
You just take one of his hands and bring it to your lips, softly pressing a kiss into his knuckles. 
“Let’s go get cleaned up and take a nap,” You murmur, walking him to the end of the hallway to the bottom of the stairs. He accepts the offer, trailing behind you like a lost puppy. 
You were not sure where this was all going to end up. Neither of you did. But you could not wait to carve the way with him, bringing every last one of your daydreams to life.
THE END
or is it? I have started writing snippets to go along with this story- if you want more, here's the link:
No One Fucks With My Baby
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katiexpunk · 27 days
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Desert Dust | Pairing Joel Miller x Fem!Reader
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Summary: You're a small-town waitress in a highway town in Arizona with a standard, safe life. You never really thought you needed more -- until you met Joel Miller. Warnings: Joel is a consent king in this one. No age gap mentioned (make it your own). Self-deprecation. Toxic coworkers. Attempted assault (not by Joel)/nothing too graphic (please be responsible about what you consume). Joel beats up a bad guy. References to blood and first aid. Alcohol. Pet names. Flirting/slow burn. Objectification of Joel by readers coworker. Inexperienced reader. Body hair. References to taste of vagina. Smoking/cigarettes (it's bad, don't do it). References to shitty past hookups. Oral (f receiving). Praise kink. Size kink. Rough sex. Sex on a desk. Just a really passionate, filthy fuck. Creampie (shocker, I know). No use of Y/N, no use of daddy. TLOU au. Reader has no physical descriptions apart from female anatomy. W/C: ~8K. Sorrrrrrry, not sorry? A/N: Hi, hello. It's been a hot minute since I've been here! I took a hiatus for the past few months because life was, well, life and I was busy getting married. Happy to be back. This one was inspired by a drive through the Arizona desert. Special thanks to @syd-djarin for being a slut with me on this one. Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications | Read Joel's POV
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Humans rely on cooperation, communication, and mutual aid for survival and well-being. Without that, it’s like being cast adrift in a hostile sea without the safety net of community and companionship.
You know this.
And so that’s why you stay, that’s why you’ve always stayed. 
Even if most of your days feel lonely, at least you have the comfort of predictability. 
++++
"I’m goin' on my break, Tracy," you call out, tossing the words casually over your shoulder as you grab your hoodie and a pack of American Spirit cigarettes from behind the counter. Sometimes you think the only reason you still have the damn vice is for the excuse to step out of the suffocating walls of the grease-drenched building they call a restaurant. 
Tracy responds with a touch too much of feigned enthusiasm, pouring a steady stream of black liquid into the mug of the customer sitting in the booth before her. 
With a nod of acknowledgment, you slip out the restaurant's back door, the hinges creaking softly in protest as you step into the crisp Arizona air. The sun hangs low in the sky, casting long shadows across the dusty ground as you light up your cigarette, the flame dancing in the breeze.
As you inhale deeply, the familiar taste of tobacco fills your lungs, calming your nerves and grounding you in the present moment. Leaning against the weathered brick wall, your thoughts drift as wisps of smoke curl lazily into the sky. 
In the distance, you can hear the faint sound of laughter and chatter drifting from inside, a comforting reminder of the community that surrounds you. Here, amidst the tumbleweeds and endless blue skies, is a place you’ve called home since you ran away from yours at sixteen. It’s not much, but it’s something. Something is always better than nothing, right? People know you by name when you go to the grocery store, and know your order at the only coffee shop in town – big-city girls don’t get that. 
As you take one last drag from your cigarette, you try to summon feelings of gratitude for what you do have, but as the smoke dissipates into the desert air, a lingering sense of restlessness gnaws at the edges of your mind.
It's only when you stamp out the cigarette in the dirt below, watching the embers fade into darkness, that you dare to entertain the notion that perhaps you could have more. 
++++
You step back into the restaurant, and your eyes adjust to the fluorescent lights above, a stark contrast from the natural light of the sun. Carefully tucking your hoodie away and readjusting your apron strings, you prepare to dive back into work. 
As you glance around, you notice Tracy frantically pacing back and forth behind the bar, her demeanor tinged with a hint of frazzled energy. It's not the busiest you've ever been, but for her, every customer that walks through the door feels like a tidal wave of chaos – especially when it’s just you two on the floor. 
With a sympathetic smile, you nod in understanding as she thrusts a stack of menus into your hands, followed by a piping hot coffee pot. "Be a doll and go take table three’s order, will ya?" she says, her voice tinged with urgency. Before you can even acknowledge her request, she’s off, stacking her forearms with plates, yelling that she’ll be right there honey to the patrons by the door. 
You make your way over to the table, weaving through the maze of booths and tables with practiced ease. As you approach, you notice a lone figure sitting hunched over in a worn leather jacket, eyes fixed on the menu in front of him. He sits up to full height and adjusts himself in the booth, eyes still on the sticky plastic in front of him, giving you a full view of his side profile. 
Fuck – he’s gorgeous. Handsome in a way that unmoors you. 
Rugged, weathered charm exudes from him. He turns to look at you and oh. His salt-and-pepper curls frame a face weathered by sun and wind, a beard streaked with grey adding an air of distinguished maturity. His eyes are soft and brown, enveloped by small creases in the corners. 
Your thighs come flesh with the edge of the table, and with the coffee pot in hand, you can't help but feel a flutter of anticipation in the pit of your stomach, settling there like a stack of pancakes eaten way too fast. 
Clearing your throat, you offer him a tentative smile. Get a grip – he’s just another customer, you silently plead with yourself. 
"Hi," you say, your voice a little softer than usual. "Can I get you something to drink?"
As his eyes meet yours, a brief but intense connection crackles between you. There's something in his gaze, a depth that you can't quite decipher, leaving his thoughts shrouded in mystery. His face remains stony, and unreadable, like the weathered cliffs that dot the desert landscape.
Your breath hitches in your throat as you follow his eyes drifting down your chest, lingering for a moment on the nametag pinned to the worn cotton of your uniform. Heat rises to your cheeks under his scrutiny. You wish you would have opted for your cleaner uniform this morning. You’ve never been one to care too much about your looks, mostly because nobody looks at you, not really. All catcalls from drunk men in bars and the occasional flirty customer. But you’re suddenly hyper-aware of the attention he’s giving.
His eyes finally settle on the coffee pot in your hand, a subtle shift in focus that breaks the spell of tension between you. "Just coffee, darlin'," he says, his voice honey-thick, low, and raspy like the rumble of distant thunder.
You nod silently, the words caught in your throat as you turn to pour him a steaming cup of coffee. 
“You let me know if I can get you anything else,” you whisper, letting the corners of your lips turn up into a small, cordial, smile. 
“Just coffee for me today, sweetheart, thank you.” 
Walking away, you can’t help but notice the feeling of the weight of his gaze lingering on you long after you do. 
He sits in silence, nursing his coffee with a quiet intensity that commands attention. His presence seems to cast a shadow over the room, drawing the gaze of both patrons and staff alike. You steal glances at him between customers and try not to read into the fact that his eyes are usually on you by the time you find him. He’s not staring – he couldn’t be – why would he be? You shove the thought down and focus on your tasks at hand, him calling you sweetheart playing like a broken record in your mind, over and over. 
Tracy, usually bustling about with the frenetic energy of a hummingbird, is unusually attentive to him. She stops by his table more often than necessary, refilling his cup with a gentle touch and addressing him with a warmth you've rarely seen her reserve for anyone else. You swear you even saw her push her tits up behind the wall before going out to him – but you can’t blame her, you’d probably do the same if you had as much to work with as she does. 
As you work behind the bar counter, wiping down tables and clearing plates, Tracy tries to engage you in conversation about the mysterious stranger. "Been a long time since we've had a man like that in here," she says, a hint of gossip in her voice, wrapped pretty in a bow of objectification. She reminds you of a praying mantis, attempting to draw in her prey before she eats him. 
"Yeah," you murmur, not quite wanting to talk about him, especially not with her. 
Excusing yourself, you slip into the bathroom, the wooden door offering a momentary respite. Leaning against the slightly sticky surface, you close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of composure. But despite your efforts, you can't shake the feeling that something has shifted. Looking at the reflection in the mirror, you can’t help but feel the twisty weird tug that pools in your lower belly, and the uptick in your heart rate. You attempt to fix your hair and pinch your cheeks to add some volume to your face. You slip on a touch of chapstick and assess yourself. This is so fucking stupid. He’s a customer. Just a customer. You’re just bored, horny, and alone. 
But maybe he is, too?
No. Stop.
After a moment, you emerge from the bathroom, only to find his table empty, a worn $20 bill – more than enough to cover his check – left behind as a silent farewell. Your heart sinks at the realization that he's gone, slipping away like a ghost in the night. Shit.
You didn't even catch his name, and now he's just another fleeting memory, a stranger passing through your life like a whisper in the wind. And though you try to convince yourself that it doesn't matter, that you'll forget about him by morning. 
But when dawn breaks the next day, he’s the first thought that crosses your mind. 
++++
The days turn into weeks, each blending seamlessly into the next in the endless cycle of small-town life. But amidst the monotony of routine, there's a flicker of anticipation that ignites in your chest every time you step foot into the restaurant – the hope that he might, too. 
Stupid, silly little small-town girl. 
You’re in the middle of bussing a rather messy table, throwing empty plates and glasses into a bucket after the lunch rush when the sound of bells above the door and heavy boot steps echoes through the restaurant. Not looking up from the table, you yell out take a seat wherever you want, throwing the final pieces of flatware into the bin. Raising it to your hip, your attention finally snaps to the customer and fuck – 
You freeze there. 
His hand lifts in a simple greeting. 
His presence is a magnetic force that shifts the air in the room. Clad in the same worn leather jacket and a dark tee, he exudes a silent, sturdy confidence. You know nothing about him, but you feel like you’d trust him with your life. 
“Oh, hi. Um, go ahead and take a seat, I’ll be with you in just a second, just gonna drop this in the back,” you say, trying to hide your smile, your excitement. 
He’s a customer. Not a bored and horny customer. Just a customer. 
As he settles into the booth next to the window, you can't help but feel a rush of excitement coursing through your veins. You greet him again with a smile, your voice warm with genuine affection, and he nods in return, his gaze lingering on you for just a moment longer than necessary.
But before you can exchange more than a few words, Tracy swoops in like a hawk, eager to monopolize his attention. She's quick to bring him a menu, bring him a coffee, and offer him a selection of homemade pies, her enthusiasm bordering on overwhelming.
You watch from afar, a pang of frustration chewing at the edges of your composure like a moth to cloth in an old closet. It's as if Tracy has staked her claim on him, leaving little room for anyone else to form a connection. And yet, despite her best efforts, you can still feel the weight of his attention on you, a silent reassurance that you're not alone in this silent dance of whatever the fuck this is. 
You think that maybe it’s all in your head – maybe he is into Tracy, and you’re confusing his affection for something it’s not. It wouldn’t be the first time. Lord knows you’re no stranger to having one too many vodka sodas and pining after the affection of the first person who looks at you, crying in the passenger seat of a truck of some guy who gave you attention hours before.
Lord know how many nights you check your phone every three seconds just to be disappointed. Too busy begging for the love of someone who doesn’t want you, and never will. Yet you’re just so hopeful. Hopeful that one day it might not feel this way, hopeful that someone will want you back. 
You wonder if you want so desperately to be seen, that you’d twisted every lingering glance, smile, and hello, for something it’s not. 
When you enter the dining room, your heart once again sinks when you notice him rising from his booth, getting ready to leave. His eyes catch yours and you give him a small wave goodbye. He holds yours while he tucks something under his coffee cup, giving you a nod, letting you know that he wants you to pick it up. His face is unreadable when he eventually walks out. 
Walking over to the table, you notice cash tucked neatly under an empty coffee mug. But you notice something else, too. A worn business card for Joel Miller, CEO of Miller Brothers Contracting. It’s a simple card, just his name and an email on the front. But when you turn it over, you’re surprised to find a phone number scribbled on the back. 
Maybe it’s not all in your head. ++++
Later that night, standing in the dark alley of the restaurant, the cement damp from the afternoon rain, Tracy's words hang heavy in the air like a dense cloud of cigarette smoke. You listen in silence as she talks about him, her tone laced with a confidence that borders on arrogance.
"I think I'm gonna ask him to get a drink," she says, her voice carrying a hint of excitement. "I think he's into me. I mean, come on, who else stops in and only orders coffee, and leaves a tip like he does? Even caught him looking at my ass once."
Her words cut through the stillness of the desert night, harsh and abrasive in contrast to the quiet solitude that surrounds you. Tracy has always been one to flaunt her looks, to revel in the attention of men like Joel who pass through the diner's doors. There aren’t many.
But as you listen to her speak, a knot forms in the pit of your stomach, a silent warning that this pursuit of Joel may lead to heartbreak for one or both of you. You've seen the way he looks at you, the way his eyes linger on you when he thinks no one else is watching. You slip your hand into the apron and thumb over the paper of his business card. 
You want to warn her, to tell her to tread carefully, but the words catch in your throat like smoke caught in a breeze. Instead, you offer her a weak smile, masking the turmoil brewing beneath the surface.
"Yeah, Tracy," you say, your voice tinged with forced enthusiasm. "Go for it. You deserve someone who appreciates you."
But as she stubs out her cigarette and heads back into the restaurant you can't help but smirk knowing he gave his card to you. 
It’s finally your turn to be wanted. 
But you don’t call, or text him. You want to, you do, but you don’t know what to say, or where to begin. You’re so out of practice when it’s something that matters. It’s easier to pretend he still wants you if you don’t break the illusion—or that’s the lie you tell yourself, anyway.
++++
Some weeks later, you find yourself alone in the empty restaurant – Tracy having called out for the night. It’s slow. Way too slow. The late hour weighs heavy on your shoulders. George, the cook, went home almost an hour ago. You work to check off the tasks on your list before you leave for the night, and eventually accomplish everything except filling the salt shakers. 
You could have sworn you turned off the neon open sign and locked the doors until the familiar sound of bells chimes through the empty restaurant. 
“We’re closed,” you yell out, twisting the final cap on the last salt shaker. 
Your eyes flicker up to find a large man stumbling through the door, his presence heavy with the unmistakable scent of whiskey and cigarettes. He doesn’t look so good, his skin is pale and damp, eyes glassed over.
You rise from your booth, a sense of unease prickling at the back of your mind as you approach him. Despite your better judgment, you tell him to take in any booth of his choice, while you head behind the bar to grab him a glass of water. When you set it down in front of him, he bristles at your gesture, his words slurred and tinged with aggression at the fact that you brought him fucking water. Your patience wears thin as he rebuffs your offer, his tone sharp and abrasive.
"Just trying to help you out here" you snap, a hint of irritation creeping into your voice. You’re not sure where the irritation is coming from, but it feels right –  natural – a built-in defense mechanism. But instead of backing down, he responds with a menacing snarl, his hand shooting out to grip your wrist in a bruising hold. Panic surges through you as you try to pull away, his grip tightening with each futile attempt.
"Let me go," you plead, the fear evident in your voice as he rises from the booth and crowds you against a nearby table, condiments spilling over the edge of the table. His hands move to grip your upper arms with a forceful intensity. You stumble slightly, the weight of his presence pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket, your head turned to the side to avoid having to look at him. “I’ll tell you what, you little bitch –” 
You feel the rapid beat of your pulse, the thrum of blood in your veins. You struggle against the man. Your inner voice screams danger, but just as you feel the panic rising in your chest, the familiar sound of chimes rings through your ears. Within seconds, a new figure looms into view, his broad frame casting a shadow over the scene unfolding before you – to you. With a swift movement, he pulls the man off of you, his voice a growl of warning as he asserts his dominance.
“I’d think twice if I were you before you try and win this one,” Joel says, voice low and threatening.  
It's him.
Relief floods through you at the sight of him, a silent thank you echoing in your mind as he stands between you and the aggressor. And as he faces off with the man, his protective stance speaks volumes. Your mind goes a little fuzzy from the adrenaline as you watch the man struggle in his grasp, followed by a slur of cuss words, ultimately ending in Joel punching him in the face, the harsh sound of bone to face. 
It shouldn’t turn you on, the violence of it all, but it sort of does. The outward display in your defense appeals to the primitive, underived part of your brain, the way a knight would defend a maiden’s honor. 
He drags the man out of the establishment, and you hear him tell him to get the fuck out and never come back. 
He locks the door and turns to face you. Your arms come up to grab yourself in an instinctual hug, your body is a little shaky from the interaction. Without saying anything, he walks over to you, bringing both of his hands to the sides of your arms – the same place where the man had grabbed you – but his touch feels different. Gentle, reassuring, safe. 
“You alright?” he says, a deep crease between his brow as he looks down at you, his eyes filled with concern. 
“I’m alright – tha,” your words break a little, and you start to feel hot tears cling to your lashline, “thank you,” you manage to blurt out, avoiding looking at him in the eyes, not wanting him to see yours all teary. 
He brings a hand up to cup your cheek and uses the edge of his thumb to tilt you up to look at him. You bring your hand to meet his on your cheek and notice a sticky sensation under your palm. You grab his hand and bring it down to your eye level, noticing the blood on it, a giant split down the middle of one of his knuckles. Jesus, if his hand looks like this, what must that guy’s face look like?
"You're hurt," you say, the tears in your eyes now replaced with genuine concern. "It's okay, don't worry about it, doesn't hurt," he reassures, but you can tell he's probably lying. 
"We've got a first aid kit in the back. Let me clean you up," you insist, nodding towards the rear of the room.
"It’s alright sweetheart, you don't have to, really…" he protests.
"You just defended me. Bandaging your knuckles is the least I can do to thank you," you tell him firmly, leaving no room for refusal.
Interlacing your fingers with his on his left hand, you guide him through the restaurant.
Navigating through the kitchen, smelling of oil and french fries, you caution him to watch his step on the freshly mopped yet always greasy floors.
In the small office, you flick on the light switch and rummage through the cabinets until you find an old first aid kit tucked away in the back. Joel leans against the desk, quietly observing you. "Ah, got it," you say with a hint of excitement that you found the kit, a little surprised there was even one stashed away. Though most of the bandages and finger condoms are missing, there's still plenty of gauze and alcohol wipes.
He stands silently, watching as you work to open the kit, his eyes fixed on you, particularly when you rip open the alcohol wipe with your teeth. "This might sting a bit," you warn, meeting his gaze with genuine care. 
“You can make it up to me later,” he whispers. His tone, the intention behind his words sends an exciting zap down your spine. There’s shared silence. As you’re patting the blood on his knuckles, that same feeling of raw want, painted with uncertainty, settles in your stomach. 
“Can I ask you something,” he says, and you flick your eyes up to meet his for a moment before lowering them back down his hand. You let out a soft mhmm in response, knowing his question before he’s even asked it. 
“Why didn’t you call?” 
The boldness of his question stops you. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. “I wanted to. I mean, I almost did – I typed out so many texts to you it’s borderline embarrassing,” you pause for a second to grab the gauze from the counter behind him. You lean in close enough to catch the scent of him – cedarwood and fresh cotton, the earthy scent of desert dust clinging to his clothes. 
“I guess I’m just not used to being wanted. Don’t know how to do this kind of thing. I’ve been alone for so long, and I guess, I don’t know, Joel,” you affix a little piece of tape to the gauze, before dropping his hand, all finished. 
You stand before him, looking at his chest and the bare skin on his neck that’s dotted with freckles, avoiding his eyes.  
“I didn’t want to embarrass myself. Not sure why a guy like you would even want a girl like me to call him anyway…” you trail off, letting out a small cough to hide the emotion creeping up in your throat. Have you always been this self-deprecating?
His hands float up to your hips, and he tugs you in closer to him, body weight still propped up against the desk, his thick thighs bracketing yours. You still avoid his eyes, your gaze fixed on a button on his shirt in front of you. 
“Look at me, sweetheart.”
The bandaged hand trails up over the side of your body, and his fingers land under your chin, his thumb tilting you up to look at him. You’re sure you must look like a mess, eyes tired from a long shift, mascara smudged from your tears. How pathetic you must look. The pad of his thumb caresses over your lips and you hold your breath. 
There’s so much he could say, so much he wants to say. He wants to build you up, to tell you that you’re worthy of the whole world. That you’re beautiful and kind, and that any man would be lucky to have you. He doesn’t even have to deeply know you to know those things. 
But he can tell from the look in your eyes that it’s not what you need right now. He’ll tell you someday. He’ll tell you every day if you’ll have him. 
But no. 
Right now you don’t need someone to tell you how gorgeous you are, you need someone to show you.
“Joel,” you say, your voice just above a whisper. His thumb is still on your lower lip. 
“Ki–” Before you can continue, his hand drops, and his lips crash into yours and he groans. He wants to rip you open, eat you raw, to devour every inch of you. You’ve had plenty of kisses, but none like this – none full of such heat, a fiery intensity, a need. He wants you. Joel wants you. 
He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and you let out a little whimper. The sweet sound goes straight to his already hardening cock. He holds you tighter to his chest, thick and capable hands on your hips as he dips his mouth to your neck, kitten-kissing you as delicately as a man his size can. He skims his injured hand underneath your shirt, caressing the skin between your shoulder blades. Your breath hitches in your throat as he nips at your jaw, eliciting a soft moan from you. And oh – he likes that. 
“Fuck, baby. Wanna go slow with you, take my time. Do it right,” he says, his voice a little wrecked already and he’s barely touched you. 
His hand trails up and pulls the shirt of your uniform down over your breast, exposing the simple lacey bra you’ve had for far too long. You would be embarrassed about him seeing it if you weren’t so aroused, drunk on his touch. You continue to let out little moans as he kisses your neck, and thumbs at your nipple beneath the fabric.
“Wanna show you what you’re worthy of sweet girl, in all the ways,” he groans into your chest. 
His words melt into you like butter, making you feel all soft and weak-limbed, fuzzy in a way that’s new to you. 
“I want you to fuck me so badly,” you blurt out, lost in the delusion of arousal. The words come naturally for a girl who never really had more than a one-night stand or some shitty fuck from a guy who drank too much whiskey – his dick half-hard, promising he’ll rock your world.
That does it for him.
Joel’s cock is rock hard, with an almost painful stiffness. He wants so badly for you to just fall to your knees in this tiny little office and suck it. He wants so badly to hold the column of your throat while he shoves his thick cock into your wet and waiting mouth, feel him deep down your throat. 
But as much as he needs that right now, he knows he has an obligation. To make you feel good. To make you feel good about yourself in every way. 
He hopes to god that you’ll chant his name like a prayer when he unravels you like a spool of thread. He can hear it in his head now, as he licks your soft skin and holds you against him. He can’t stop thinking about how pretty you’ll sound when you come for him.
“Patience, angel baby. You’re in good hands,” he purrs. If you weren’t so hazy you might’ve made a joke about him only having one good hand at the moment. He would chuckle at that, you briefly think, before his husky voice speaks again. 
“Can I undress you?” he asks. You’ve never been asked that, most of the other men we’re quick just to take your clothes off. Too sloppy, too eager – careless. You’re starting to realize how hot consent is.
You toe off your beat-up sneakers and work to take off your shirt and bra, all while Joel unbuttons your skirt. You wiggle your hips to assist him in removing the barrier. After what seems like no time at all, you’re nearly fully nude in front of him, bare save the thin cotton of your panties. As a reflex, you cross your arms over your chest in an attempt to hide your body, wishing you could blend into the wallpaper. 
“God damn, sweetheart. Look at you,” Joel says, taking a small step back and admiring the view. He looks at you like you’re a masterpiece, a piece of art holding court just for him to gaze at. 
He gently grabs the arm you’re covering yourself with and exposes your bare chest. Goosebumps collect like pebbles on your skin from the cool air, and your nipples harden from the significance of the moment. 
“No need’ta hide from me,” he assures you. You believe him. 
You push your chest out to him, for him. He accepts your offering; swipes a calloused thumb across your plush, silky nipple, and crouches to catch the other in his desperate mouth. He groans into your chest the second your nipple meets his lips. You can’t control the deep hum that escapes from your throat. Joel smirks at the sound, lips still attached to your breast. 
“Feels so good, Joel,” you moan. You have of course played with your nipples when you touched yourself, but you’ve never had a man pay so much attention to them, to be gentle and firm at the same time. 
He trails kisses down the valley of your breasts, across the soft swell of your stomach, whispering sweet praises as he does. You drape your hands over his broad shoulders and thread your fingers through the curls that gather on the back of his head as he works his way down to the band of your panties. Much like your bra, you’d wish you opted for a cuter pair of underwear. Not like you own any anyway, but something tells you he could give two shits about that right now. 
On his knees, he places both of his hands on the curves of your hips and holds you steady while he looks up at you. He looks up at you with a softness you’ve never seen in a man, his pupils so dark they edge out most of the brown, his hooded eyes are almost a plea for you to let him continue. 
“Can I take these off, baby?” he asks, already hooking his thumbs in the band of them, awaiting your permission. 
You pause with your mouth agape a bit, not quite sure what to say. Every fiber of your being wants you to say yes, yes, yes. But you’re nervous – you haven’t shaved, and you remember Tracy saying something about men not liking hair on women, especially not on their pussy — a man won’t even eat you out if you’ve not been properly groomed. 
What if you taste weird? What if he doesn’t like it? You’ve only been eaten out once if you can even classify it as such, and he was down there for maybe two seconds before he was rising and wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand, claiming whatever you’re wet enough before shoving his rather average cock into your pussy, paying no mind to you or your pleasure. 
“You, um, you don’t have to. It’s okay, really…” you shy away, trying to give Joel an out. 
His prominent nose presses into your mound and he moans, moans, at your smell. 
“Smell so sweet, need to taste you, sweetheart. I won’t if you don’t want me to, but fuck, I would love to,” he says, the truth behind his voice evident in his tone. His cock twitches against the confines of his jeans. 
He suspects you’ve never had a real man take care of you, taking the time to pleasure you to your heart’s content. A damn shame, he thinks. 
“O-kay,” you say on an exhale. You’re determined to not let the negative thoughts swirling in your head win. 
“I gotcha, don’t worry,” he rasps out, his voice equal parts gentle, and gruff with desire. 
He gently tugs the fabric down over your thighs, the fabric gathering at your ankles. You take a small step out of them, and he gently caresses up the back of your calve, and back of your thigh, his hand landing on the curve of your ass. He tightly grabs the flesh there. He gently guides your leg up onto one of his shoulders, and you press back into the wall and lean your pelvis closer to him. 
“Fuck, what a pretty little pussy,” he praises, before leaning in to place an experimental kiss on the top of your mound. You let out a soft little sound at the feeling of his lips on your skin. He looks up at you once again, making sure you aren’t uncomfortable, before once again returning his attention to your cunt. 
He gets bold with his kisses, and once you’re comfortable with his mouth on you, he glides the middle finger of his non-bandaged hand through your wet slit before flipping it so it’s wrist up, pausing with the pad of it right at the entrance of your tight hole. You look down at him with lusty doe eyes and bite your lower lip in anticipation, still a little nervous. He looks at you and gently nudges the nip in, he holds it there for a brief second, before fully thrusting it up into your core, holding your gaze as he enters you. You gasp.
“Fuck angel, you’re tight,” he moans as he continues to feel you, eventually putting his mouth back on your pussy, his lips sealed around your puffy clit. His large finger pumps in and out of you as his tongue flicks and swirls where you need him the most. 
“More,” you moan, “Fuck–please, Joel, give me more,” you mewle. 
“That’s my girl, gonna stretch you out, get you nice and ready for this cock,” he whispers against your wet skin as he slips another finger in, one you greedily accept. He devours you, licks at you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. It’s so precise, so overwhelming, so fucking good. 
Heat pools in your lower abdomen, and the world goes a little fuzzy at the edges of your vision. You’ve had an orgasm before, you think, but you don’t remember it feeling like this. 
You moan as he sets a relentless pace with his mouth and fingers, slowly tightening the coil inside of you in a way you’ve never felt before. Time slows for a brief moment and your vision goes white, little specks of light dancing behind your eyelids, heat rushing up to your chest and cheeks. 
Until – 
“Holy shit, yes, I’m coming, oh my god, don’t stop,” you unravel for him, a babbling mess of pleasure, he holds you steady as he works you through it. And when he’s satisfied that you’re satisfied, he gently hoists your leg off of his shoulder and rises to his full height. 
“Such a good girl for me, you come so pretty,” he whispers against your neck, nipping at your jaw until his lips find yours. You taste yourself on them, feel the wetness in his beard. He slips his tongue into your mouth and you moan. It’s so hot to taste yourself on him, dizzying that he’s not wiping it away. He wants you. Joel wants you.
The daze of your release wears off, hurling you back down to earth. Joel kept his promise, he did show you what you’re worthy of. No more mediocre, subpar sex for you. You are worthy of that. Deserve that and more. It’d be rude of you not to return the favor. 
On jelly-like legs, you begin to kneel before him, wanting nothing more than to be a practitioner of pleasure, to elicit another good girl from him. He stops you before your knees touch the floor. 
“You don’t want me to suck your cock?” you ask, feeling a sting of rejection. 
“Oh angel baby, I would love to feel those sweet little lips of yours wrapped tight around my cock, hold your throat as you choke on me,” he coos.
You bring your palm to cup him through his jeans and he groans, your hands trace over the thick shape. He’s big. You watch as his jaw tightens and his head falls back as you work over him. You can’t help but feel excited when you feel a damp spot on his jeans, the place where his pre-come has gathered. 
“But there’s something I want more right now. Feel what you do to me?” he says, pressing your hand harder down onto him. “Need to feel that sweet, tight cunt of yours around me first,” he says with intensity, an urgency in his voice. You make quick work of undoing his belt buckle and slip off his jeans and boxers in one swoop. 
Truly seeing him, the sight of his heavy cock in all its glory, makes your mouth water a little. 
“Yo–you’re so big,” you say, a little intimidated. He grabs you by the hips and holds you tight against him, his cock pressed between your bodies against the bare flesh of your tummy. You think you might actually feel him there when he’s inside you at this rate. 
“It’s okay, sweetheart. You can take it,” he says, using one hand to grab the back of your thigh and tapping the other. You get the memo. He lifts you and spins you around so you’re sitting on the mahogany desk behind you, your damp skin sticking to the mess of customer receipts and supply lists underneath you. He stands between your legs, holding himself by the base, pumping himself slowly up and down his length. “I’m on birth control,” you say, blurting it out. “And I’m clean, you don’t have to use a condom, I mean, if you don’t want to.” And shit – that’s music to his fucking ears. 
“Okay. Open your legs wide for me, baby. Wanna see you,” he says, and you do. He juts his head down and spits onto it, using his fist to work it onto himself. You hold your legs open in a V, bracing yourself with your arms behind you. Your ass hangs slightly off the edge of the desk, just enough for him to have full access and view of your glistening slit.  
He positions himself at your entrance and gently pushes his hips forward so the tip of him is inside of you. He pauses there, giving you a second to adjust. Your heart throbs in your chest, and your eyes flicker closed. 
“Eyes on me, baby. Wanna see you as I take what’s mine,” he says, his voice a wreck. When you open them, he sinks even deeper. Halfway inside of you, he pauses again. 
“Okay?” he asks. You nod. 
You can tell he’s holding back, not wanting to hurt you. And while you may be out of practice, you know your body was made for this. You feel so full, so content, you just want to feel all of him. After he’s confident you’re ready, he pushes his hips forward once again, fully burying himself deep inside of you. 
Your pussy walls clench against him, and your jaw goes slack. You were right, you do feel him in your tummy. He’s so fucking big, but god, it feels good. It’s like he’s stuffing and filling all of the lonely spaces that have been hiding inside of you for so long. Like he was made for you.
He sets a slow and steady rhythm at first, dragging in and out of you. You can tell he wants to fuck you harder, deeper. You can tell that he’s waiting for you to take it there, to give him that permission. 
“You can fuck me harder, Joel. ‘M not gonna break, I promise,” you coo. His hand at your hip flexes tighter, and that’s all he needs. “Shit, c’mere,” he says, helping you off the desk, steading your legs. He flips you over and presses you against the desk, your bare breasts flesh against the cool wood, your hips perfectly positioned at the edge, bent over and waiting to once again be stuffed. 
He stands behind you, angles your hips up slightly, and once again buries himself in you.
“Such a perfect cunt,” he groans, beginning to set a relentless pace. Something about this angle does something for you, too. His cock fits just right, pushing and gliding over the spongey spot inside of you that makes you see stars. He holds your hips tightly as he pumps in and out of you, eliciting throaty moans from you. The air is filled with the filthy wanton sound of skin slapping against skin. 
“I –” you mew, “I think I’m gonna come again,” you say, breathless. 
“Come for me, baby. Be the good girl I know you are and show me how pretty you are when you come on my cock,” he says, a little out of breath, voice deep. 
Good girl. Pretty. Come for him. 
And you do. Your pussy pulses around him as the wave of your orgasm takes over you, your mind hazy and filled with nothing but the thought of the way he fills you just right. 
His movements begin to slow. You can tell he’s close. 
“Where do you want me, baby?”
“Inside, please. Want you to fill me up, make me yours,” you rasp, beg. 
After a few more thrusts of his hips, he begins to stutter and slow. He pauses buried to the hilt inside of you and groans as his cock paints your insides with thick ropes of come. 
He holds you there, both of your breaths coming a little ragged, his body shaking and jolting a little. You feel him pulse inside of you. You’re not sure you’ve ever felt this content, utterly blissed out from the feeling of him – all of him – deep inside of you. 
When he pulls out, you let out a small moan, a little sad your pussy has nothing to clench around anymore. He tells you to stay there for a second before he returns with a handful of paper towels from the kitchen to help clean you up. 
He kisses you again. It’s different this time, not as intense as the first few, but just as hot, just as passionate. The same pull you felt the moment he first entered the restaurant. 
He helps you get dressed, and you fasten his belt buckle for him and check the gauze on his fist. You both stand there in silence, not quite sure where to go from here, until he offers up. 
“Wanna smoke?” 
++++ 
“So, how long have you lived here’?” he asks, holding open the lit zippo from his back pocket to you. With the cigarette dangling between your lips, you steady it between your fingers and lean in, the dim glow of the fire illuminates your features. 
“Too long,” you mumble, taking a big drag. Now you get why in movies after a really good sex scene the characters always want a cigarette. You watch as he lights his own. 
“And you, where are you off to next?” You don’t want him to leave. 
“Not sure, the contract job my brother and I have in the county over ends in a week or so. Was thinkin’ it might be nice to head south, maybe Austin,” he responds, smoke dancing in the air around him. 
Your stomach twists a bit at the thought. Don’t go. 
“Although, ‘M not so sure anymore. Starting to think I might have a few things I need to take care of here first,” he says, shifting his gaze from the ground until his hooded eyes find yours. 
He gives you a subtle wink. You smile.
You stand there in comfortable silence, leaning up against the wall next to him, taking in the crisp desert air, enjoying being next to him. 
And when it’s time to go, he offers you his hand and a ride home. You accept.
But this time when you stamp out the cigarette, watching the embers fade into darkness, you fully entertain the notion that not only could you have more.
You will. 
Especially if Joel has anything to say about it.
END
Or if you want, you can read Joel’s POV here.
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Tagging some moots cuz I'm sure Tumblr will probably fuck my engagement on this one since I haven't posted in forever :/ If you like this, please consider a reblog (dm me if you want to be removed): @endlessthxxghts @theoasisofthings @pedrostories @bastardmandennis @milly-louise @ghostwritesthings @josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @hellishjoel @survivingandenduring @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro @amyispxnk @paleidiot @ghostwritesthings @kulekehe @darkheartgatita @goldenhxurs @javiscigarette @morallyinept @ro-nahime-things @gwendibleywrites @missladym1981 @auteurdelabre @morgaussy
ily.
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psychedelic-ink · 6 months
Text
𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃
pairing: joel miller x f!reader
genre: explicit smut, minors dni, childhood bestfriends to lovers, tlou'verse, jackson era, mild hurt/comfort
word count: 4.9k
summary: When your boyfriend is desperate to win back what he lost, he bets on you this time without your knowledge. And everyone knows you don't go back on your word when it comes to Joel Miller.
warnings: okay so technically not cheating because your boyfriend literally gambled you buuut if that's not your thing I totally get it, piv, dirty talk, choking, spitting, size kink, soft!joel & feral!joel, he likes hearing how big he is, affectionate whore calling™, a hint of analplay, oral (receiving and giving)
a/n: another joel fic inspired by p.orn, we love to see it
a special thank you to @nothoughtsjustmeds for the beta! 💕
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Joel was never that into gambling. 
Back before everything had gone to shit, that had always been more Tommy’s forte than his own. Joel doesn’t remember the amount of times he’d had to bail his brother out, either by protecting him while putting himself in the middle or by giving him loans he’d never ever see again. Joel hadn’t minded. Tommy was his baby brother after all. As long as he was safe Joel was happy—annoyed, for sure, but happy. 
He was surprised when he learned that Jackson had a pretty heavy gambling scene and that Tommy wasn’t a part of it. He didn’t know why that was, because even on the nights where he had to go bail him out and bring him home all bloodied and bruised, Tommy just made the same mistakes. Not even Sarah’s worried expression, while she peered from between the wooden stair railing, deterred him from it. 
Guess it was different when your own kid was on the way. 
However, despite his lack of interest in gambling, he found himself betting away what little he had for someone else—someone he thought he would never see again. But honestly, he wasn’t half bad at it so he didn’t mind it that much. His only complaint was when he had to get messy hunting down those who didn’t pay up. 
One by one the men around the table folded, only leaving Joel and Liam. A huge stack of weaponry lies in the middle of the table, Liam’s eyes constantly flit between the stack and Joel. They stare at each other long and hard. Joel knows that he’s going to win. He usually did with these face-offs. 
Liam folds. 
A small smile tugs at the corner of Joel’s lips. There’s nothing better than to take what someone he absolutely detests wants. 
“Let’s go again,” Liam grunts, his forehead shining with sweat. 
Joel raises an eyebrow, “You don’t have anythin’ else to bet on.” 
“Come on now, Miller,” Liam leans back into his chair. “There must be something that you want.” 
Joel’s eyes bore into his long enough for the man to grow uncomfortable and nervous. Only then did he speak. 
“You still have that pretty girlfriend?” 
Someone Joel didn’t bother learning the name of pipes up from his right, “I thought we were only betting huntin’ supplies this time.” 
“Come on, let the man try to win his rifle back.” Joel grins. 
“Fuck you, Miller.” 
“Careful now,” he slowly places his elbows on the old table, his weight on it enough to let out a threatening creak. He cocks his head to the side, his smile small but still there. “My kindness wears thin.” 
Liam’s an addict. And of course, he says yes. 
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“You fucking gambled me away?!” your voice is shaking, body trembling all over as you pace back and forth in front of the couch Liam was nestled on top of. At least he has the decency to look guilty. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Liam? I’m your girlfriend, not some kind of deer hide you can put on the table.” 
“Look I said I was sorry alright?” He stands up fast enough to make you flinch. He holds you by the shoulders, thumbs moving in a soothing manner. “Won’t happen again, I promise.” 
You scoff, “We both know that’s a lie.” You lift your chin up in defiance. “I won’t do it. I have free will. You can’t make me.” 
That makes Liam sweat. You can’t blame him, you’ve heard of Joel’s. . . outbursts. But honestly, that’s the least of your worries. You’re mostly confused as to why Joel asked for you specifically. You’re positive that he’d been avoiding you ever since he came into Jackson, only talking to you a handful of times. Why now? And why like this?
“Baby,” Liam whines, snapping you away from your thoughts. “You have to. He’s crazy, he’ll kill me.” 
“You should’ve thought of that before.” 
“Please. All you’d have to do is entertain him for the night, make him happy.” 
“So to be his plaything? Is that what you want?” 
“Maybe he’ll ask you to cook him dinner, hell if I know.” 
“Sure,” you roll your eyes. “I’m sure he’ll just want something to eat.” 
You give him one more look before slipping away from his gentle hold. Your heartbeat is slow, hours spreading across every beat, making your chest feel heavy and lightheaded.
“Fine,” you cave, wrapping yourself with your shaking arms. “But after this, I’m done, Liam. I’m so tired of bailing you out.” 
“You can’t leave, where would you go?” 
The soft tone he used while begging you to spread your legs for Joel quickly turns into a tone with sharp, dagger-like edges. You don’t say anything. Don’t answer him or agree with him. You’re lost in a broken world. 
And now, amongst all the things you’ve been through, you have to see the pity in your childhood best friend’s eyes. 
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You don’t want to be here. You don’t. It’s embarrassing. 
Your boyfriend is in the other room, brooding on his couch, examining his life choices. You’re not doing any better. Your robe loose over your shoulders, the chill of the bedroom settling over your skin. It’s especially embarrassing because it’s Joel for crying out loud. You’ve known each other since you were kids causing mischief all around the neighborhood. You still remember the time you fell and scraped your knee, how he kissed it better and placed a pink bandaid over it because it was your favorite color. 
Why the hell had he asked for you? To humiliate you? Well, he definitely succeeded. 
The door opens and you jolt. His presence is large in the room, making you shudder despite yourself. Your pulse quickens. You shouldn’t be afraid of him yet here you are, trembling like a newborn doe. He closes the door with a gentle click, the wood creaking and solidifying your fate. 
You haven’t known him for years. Even before the outbreak had torn the world apart. You had moved away two years prior and after everything went down you never expected to see him again. When he showed up in Jackson you barely recognized him. He looked rugged, more salt than pepper in his beard, his eyes drained of life. He had scars that ran deep and he had found a kid along the way. You were surprised but relieved to see he still had a big heart. 
You were ashamed the first time you two sat down after years. Everyone knew of Liam’s gambling problem, he couldn’t help it, and you knew that Joel knew. You hated the idea of him pitying you, of him seeing the world weighing down on you. You’ve heard from around that Joel also started to place bets. Nothing too big though, unlike your boyfriend who would bet on almost anything in the house. You knew those bets could turn out violent and people feared Joel. Even in a safe utopia like Jackson, the kind of man he’d become traveled from ear to ear, striking fear. And when someone that owed him money ended up with a bloody nose and broken jaw. . . no one dared to deny him of anything. 
And it seemed like you were no exception. 
Joel stands in front of you, his sleeves pulled up to his elbows, exposing sinewy muscle. He stands close. Close enough that you feel his breath on your lips. Your eyelids flutter before you avert them, tears stinging the corners. 
You drop the robe, the old fabric pooling at your ankles. You’re left in a decent enough-looking bra and somewhat matching underwear. 
“Not interested,” Your entire body goes taut, eyes wide. You hear the blood rush in your ears. Joel moves past you and takes a seat on the bed, crossing his arms over the expanse of his broad chest. You stare at him and a thick knot forms in your throat. He gives you a brief look before explaining. “I only wanted to teach your boyfriend a lesson. He’s reckless. One of these days he’s gonna be in real debt to me and, darlin’, I don’t want you gettin’ caught in the middle.” 
Your heart drops. You don’t know what you’ve been expecting but it certainly isn’t this. Tears blurring your vision, you quickly bend over and scoop up your robe, throwing it over your shoulders. Somewhere along memory lane, you forgot to remind yourself that Joel was your first; first crush, first love, first kiss, first time. But it just hadn’t worked out. You had stayed close friends until you moved away, he had Sarah, you had a promising career. You were planning on getting back to him. It just never came to be. Liam didn’t know you knew Joel, only Tommy knew about the connection you two had, mainly because he was there. 
And now you had Liam—Boyfriend who calls you names because he hates everything, Liam. Shitty boyfriend, Liam. Boyfriend who put you up as a prize, Liam. 
It’s just too much. All of it. Your heart can’t handle how unfair it all is. The pity Joel shows you, the way Liam treats you. He loves you, you know that much, but he just doesn’t care enough to treat you right or tend to you when he’s so broken himself. He doesn’t understand that you would take care of him just as much. 
And now you’re just a shell. A shell of your former self. 
The first salty tear slips from your lashes, it’s followed by another and then another. 
You manage to reach the end of the bed on shaky legs, collapsing, you cover your face, heaving silently into your palms. You don’t want Liam to hear you cry, deep down you want him to think Joel is fucking you this very instant. You want him to feel guilt, or at least a sliver of the way you feel. 
There’s a gentle hand on your shoulder. Your brain doesn’t even register that Joel is pulling you into his chest, wrapping solid arms around your shaking frame. He holds the back of your neck, squeezing tenderly just like he did when your mom yelled at you and he wanted to calm you down. 
“Why are you cryin’?” he mumbles. “I told you I’m not gonna do anythin’ to you. Or to him. I just wanted him to think before he put you in any danger. What if it wasn’t me there? Not everyone is as they seem in this town.” 
After all this time Joel Miller is still looking out for you. 
“It’s not that,” you answer, between sniffled and muffled hiccups. “I’m embarrassed and so fucking tired. I don’t want you thinking I’m some damsel in distress, even though me crying isn’t really helping,” you take a deep breath and peel yourself unwillingly from his chest. “I don’t feel good about myself. I never do with him. I just feel like shit with some more shit thrown over. And well. . . now I know that you don’t want me either. It’s just too much. But I’ll be okay, thank you for looking out after me even though I’m a mess.” 
He suddenly grips your chin and pulls you close enough that your noses almost touch, “What the hell makes you think that I don’t want you?” 
“You. . .” with a sigh, you look away. “You didn’t want to fuck me.” 
“You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?”
Squeezing your chin, he forces your gaze back to him. His lips are parted, pupils wide enough to hide the chocolate brown of his eyes. He seems just as surprised as you feel. Arousal pools between your legs, heat dripping down the curve of your spine. You press your thighs together and swallow. 
Joel’s hand moves up to your cheek and cups it gently, thumb toying with the corner of your lip, “I just never thought you’d be interested if I’m bein’ honest. Especially not after. . . everything I’ve done.” 
“You’ve done what you’ve had to do to survive,” you kiss the curve of his palm and he shifts, coming even closer. “I always wanted to come back to you, you know? You’re my first love, Joel Miller. Deep down I always wanted you to be the last.” 
Joel was never an emotional guy. He always had trouble expressing what he thought and felt, thinking he always had to hide behind large invisible walls. The outbreak had put a magnifying glass over that quality of his. You can only tell that your words affected him by how the crease between his brows softens and his cheeks gain a subtle red hue. 
He only grunts as he forcefully brings your hand to his crotch, his cock hard and throbbing under your palm. His lips skim down your neck, kissing where your pulse beats frantically. Joel grinds into your palm, “You still want to fuck with your boyfriend waiting in the living room?” 
“God, yes.” 
You stand up and he parts his legs for you, allowing you to take your rightful place between them. Looking up, his fingers dance up your shoulders, pushing off the robe so it once again pools at your feet. The fabric of your bra has worn away with time, meaning that your nipples meet no resistance as they stiffen under his gaze. Joel licks his lips and brings both thumbs to the peaks, rubbing them until they’re fully hard. 
Then he suddenly shoves you closer to him, your aching nipple met with his wanting mouth. He sucks through the fabric. Saliva darkens the color. He sucks and moans each individual nipple until both are hard like diamonds and only then do you find yourself on the bed, his mouth still on you, starving for more. Your back forms the perfect arch, the sheets feeling like silk against your skin despite them being years old—almost rotten.
He drags his lips down your body, rough facial hair tickling your skin, your hips helplessly stutters into the air. Two large hands pin your hips down. You can’t help the noises that tumble from your lips. For the first time, you’re feeling whole. He lays soft kisses against your inner thighs and finally, he reaches where you want him most. 
Joel sucks your clit through the fabric and your body jerks, seeking the heat of his mouth against your bare cunt instead. He smiles, digging his blunt nails into your flesh. 
“Patience,” he licks a stripe down your clothed folds. “I want you to be loud, sweetheart. Make noise for me. If you want me to fuck you, that’s my price—your sounds.” 
Liam never liked the sounds you made. Unless you were mimicking porn and whispering how close you were, which was a very rare occasion. 
Joel slides his hands up to the softness of your stomach, squeezing gently. Like you might fade away at any given second. He kisses the lips of your pussy and his eyes flutter closed. 
“Doesn’t it feel good,” he begins, his southern drawl more prominent as his voice grows deeper. “To have that prick in the next room listenin’ to me fuck you, riddled with guilt because he bet on his pretty girlfriend?” 
It does feel good. “You think I’m pretty?” 
“‘Course I do,” his brows furrow, eyes finding yours. “Prettiest girl I’ve known since the first day my dick got hard.” 
The words send a tingle up your spine but Joel doesn’t allow you to linger on them for long. He slides your underwear to the side. The fabric sticky with slick, he immediately presses his lips deep into your cunt, tongue swirling around your entrance and teasing it by pushing in the tip. You cry out and grip his head, your legs pressing against his ears. Your heart hammers within the confinements of your ribcage. 
“Gonna ruin you,” he groans, licking himself deeper and rutting the bed. Your eyes roll back, your body melting with every fat stroke of his tongue. 
Joel takes you apart slowly. His jaw moves, head lazily going from left to right. You feel so wet, soaked, from both his mouth and your slick. It’s almost like he goes slower the more soaked you are. He draws various shapes around your throbbing clit. You're left withering under him, shaking, begging, and moaning his name loud enough that the entirety of Jackson could probably hear. The wet smack of his mouth is followed by loud slurps and groans, and your stomach coils tight. 
After all these years, Joel Miller had certainly learned a few new tricks. He wasn’t that same teenager anymore, though, neither were you. He feels different, yet he also feels the same. Like a familiar wind stroking your skin. 
“So damn wet and sweet like honey, fuck.” 
He moves away and you nearly cry out of frustration, fingers burrowing into the old sheets. You only move when you hear the deafening sound of a belt buckle coming loose. Joel’s pants drop to his ankles, cock painfully hard and slightly curving to the side. Your mouth waters, “No underwear?” 
“Got too lazy to wash’em last Sunday,” he lazily strokes himself. Today is Tuesday. He’s been going commando all this time. More saliva fills your mouth, you don’t know why but the thought excites you and he seems to notice. “You always did get turned on by the weirdest things,” he mutters. “Now get on your knees, sweetheart. Been waitin’ a long time to feel those lips again.” 
You pout, “Forearms are sexy, ask anyone.”
Joel sighs and shakes his head, his dark gaze makes you clench around nothing. He ignores your comment entirely.  “Don’t make me say it again.” 
You sink to your knees immediately after that. 
He’s so much thicker than you remember. The bulbous head a beautiful shade of red, shiny beads of precome gathered at the slit. You notice the vein meandering down the underside of his cock and you trace it with the tip of your tongue. The blood pumps harder in response, his length twitches and smears the shiny pearls against your cheek. 
You moan as you finally take him between your lips. The corners of your mouth sting from how wide you need to open to accommodate him. You manage to take him half way in, swirling your tongue, you hollow out your cheeks. 
“That’s it—That’s it, fuck—suck me harder, sweetheart, please—” his hips rock forward, his cock filling your mouth until the head is hitting the back of your throat. You choke on him and his head falls at the way your throat constricts around the width of him. He then pulls out, prompting you to look up. His hair is a mess, lips swollen and parted. “Use your spit, need you to wet my cock good if you want me to fit darlin’. I ain’t that teenager anymore.” 
You kiss the soft crease between his balls, rolling them with your tongue. You’re delighted to witness how he shudders at the soft caress of your lips, “I can see that.” 
“Get on with it then.” 
Joel sounds almost annoyed—no, not annoyed, but eager, desperate—to have your mouth wrapped around him with Liam in the other room. You don’t want to make him wait so you slowly allow a thin line of saliva to drip from between your lips. His thighs tense when it touches the head of his cock. 
“Is his dick as big as mine?” he asks, jaw locked, words bouncing off of clenched teeth. 
“No,” you gasp, dragging your lips down the length of him while staring at him through heavy lashes. “No, it’s not as big as yours.”
Suddenly you’re lifted to your feet, your body nothing but a ragdoll as he pushes you to the bed, the old mattress creaking with protest at the added weight.  
“Play with that fuckin’ pussy for me, I want to see it.” He wraps a hand around his weeping cock, his strokes hard and calculated. Your breasts tingle as you push a hand between your thighs, he clicks his tongue in disapproval, approaching the end of the bed. “Spread your legs wide, honey.” 
As soon as you open your legs and spread your folds for him to see how soaked you are, he’s quick to climb up the bed. Turning you to your side, he gets right behind you. Joel wets his own fingers, sucking on them with a loud groan before replacing yours with his own. He rubs your clit with precise movements, each stroke hitting the mark and making you see bright, dazzling stars. Your body moves on its own. Heat pools between your legs, your hips grinding back to feel the heft of him on your ass. 
“Joel, please,” you whimper. “Please, fuck me, please—” 
His lips touch your cheek and he breathes heavily, his chest heaving and rattling with every exhale. You feel the head of his cock slowly sinking into you, stretching you wide as his lips decorate your sweaty skin with fleeting kisses. 
“You’re takin’ me so fuckin’ well, honey,” your eyes roll back, a mild pain blossoming from where you two connect. He brushes his fingers over your clit, the sharp pleasure shortening your breath. “That’s it. That’s my girl takin’ my big cock so well. So good. So good for me.” 
Your jaw drops as you take him inch by inch. He continuously plays with your clit, kissing you and whispering words of praise while his tongue plays with your earlobe. You feel like mush. Like dough that only he can mold. Your lashes grow wet with tears, your heart beating so wild that you swear he can hear it as well. Joel slightly pulls back his hips and pushes back in, your breath catches in your throat, and soon enough he begins fucking you with shallow thrusts. 
“Is this what you wanted, huh?” he mutters into your ear. You nod helplessly, your body burning from the inside out. “Tell me, louder, come on,” a smack echoes in the small room, and pain blossoms over your ass cheek. “Come on, louder.” 
“Yes!” you cry out. In a weak attempt to meet his thrusts, you roll your hips. “Yes, this is what I wanted. I’ve never stopped thinking about it—never stopped thinking about you.” 
“Is this pussy mine?” 
“Yes, it’s fucking yours.” 
Your voice must’ve come out too much like a whisper because Joel’s pace quickens. He fucks you hard, deep, hammering into you until you’re struggling for air. He wraps thick fingers around your neck, squeezing until there’s pressure building under your eyes, your lungs burning. 
He loosens his grip around your throat, “I wanna hear it, come on now, don’t make me beg for it. Tell me, is it mine?” 
“Yours! It’s fucking yours!” 
Suddenly Joel is underneath you and you’re on top, his hips relentless as he snaps his hips up into you. It feels even better now. The way his cock massages your walls shooting crackles of electricity up your spine. He holds your ass with both hands and spreads you for his liking. 
You moan his name and when you look down, seeing him staring at your face, a sudden gush of embarrassment overwhelms you and with a small whimper, you cover his eyes with both your hands. Joel grits his teeth at that. He fucks you harder, the vicious way he presses inside making you gasp and drop your hands so you can brace yourself by flattening your palms over his chest. His eyes flash with anger. 
“Why the fuck—” he growls, “would you cover my eyes?” 
“I–I got embarrassed—” you squeeze your eyes shut and open them back again. You push down your hips, taking him to the hilt as a form of apology, but he doesn’t seem to accept it and holds you still. Your head falls back with his every thrust. 
“If you ever pull that stunt again, I’ll take you over my knee,” he rasps, ignoring the way your pussy clenches at his words. 
His finger teases your asshole and beads of sweat gather at your tailbone. Joel’s grin is dangerous, something you’d run away from rather than run towards. But you can’t help it. A wanton moan rattles your throat, your pussy clenching hard around his cock. He presses forward, burying his finger down to the first knuckle. You shudder over and over, your body building tension and releasing it simultaneously. 
“You like that, wildflower?” he groans, thrusting his finger in and out while snapping his hips up. “You enjoy it when I play with your tight little asshole?” 
“Fuck, fuck—Joel—yes, yes I do.” 
His other hand snakes around the back of your neck and yanks you down. His damp lips touch your ear, “Gonna fuck this hole one day, pretty thing. . . gonna fuck it so hard you’re not gonna be able to stand for weeks.” 
Before you can catch your breath, you’re being hauled towards the closed door, the emptiness you feel sudden and cold. He pulls your hips up, presses your cheek against the barely standing wood. Your hard nipples graze against the surface, a jolt of pleasure shooting up your spine. Again, Joel thrusts forward, filling you to the brim. The mild pain tingles within your lower abdomen and you melt against him, eyes rolling back as you wiggle your ass for him. 
With every rock of his hips, your body hits the door with a thud and you’re sure Liam can hear every forceful fuck, “Tell him how fuckin’ bigger I am than him—I wanna fuckin’ hear, it come on.” 
“He’s so much bigger than you!” you groan, bracing your palm against the door. “You hear me, Liam? Never had a bigger cock in my life, I’m soaked.” 
Liam’s muffled voice follows through, “Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell is wrong with you? You fucking whore!” 
You know it shouldn’t, but his words still jar you. 
“I’ll fuckin’ break his hands for that, don’t you worry darlin’,” Joel mutters into your skin, his words marking you as something untouchable. “And I’ll make it fuckin’ hurt.” He then kisses your shoulder and shouts towards the door, slamming especially hard this time so the thud of you hitting the door echoes. “You’re the one who gambled her like some kind of prize you dickhead. Don’t blame her for feelin’ good about it!” 
“You could never satisfy me,” you say barely above a whisper, like you’re not entirely sure you’re allowed to feel good about this. About finally having him all to yourself. 
“That’s it, tell him,” Joel growls, pushing his cock even deeper. You swear that if you looked down at your stomach, you’d see a bulge, as impossible as that sounds. “Tell him.” 
You desperately grab at Joel’s forearms, feeling the sinewy muscle tense. Your slick drips down his length and wets the inside of your thighs. With a loud moan you repeat your words and it feels delightful. 
You only smile when you hear the outer door close shut. Liam is gone. 
“Yes yes yes,” Joel murmurs into your neck, ramming into you harder. “That’s it, come on my cock, sweetheart, please—I wanna feel it—” 
Your breath catches in your throat, body seizing, “B—Bed,” you manage to choke out. 
If he pulled out, you’re not aware. His body is a constant presence against your back, lips always latched on to a patch of skin, tasting the salt. Joel lays you down gently and pushes your legs high enough that it grazes your forehead with every desperate snap of his hips. 
“Is this what you want?” he groans, the wet noises of him fucking into the tight fist of your cunt bouncing off the walls. 
“Yes, Joel— this is what I want.” 
“My whore,” he leans over and grinds into you. He slips his tongue into your mouth, sucks on your tongue. The back of your thighs ache with protest but you whimper into the kiss anyway. Breaking the kiss, Joel breathes into you, “My good sweet little whore,” and another kiss. 
Your eyes roll back, “So deep,” you groan, breaking the kiss. 
“Deeper deeper deeper,” Joel mocks you by mimicking your dazed tone with his drawl. He slowly pushes in, holding himself there, he halts your breath. “How’s that, wildflower? Deep enough for you?” 
“Oh god, Joel—” you choke. You fist the sheets, your cunt fluttering and throbbing. He doesn’t move, he flexes his cock and the pressure of that is enough to break you. 
Joel wasn’t expecting it, this much your muddled brain is able to realize from the shocked groan he lets out. His lips find purchase on your forehead, kissing and mumbling praise as your entire body clenches and releases, your pussy gushing around him. You feel the trickles of fresh wetness ripping out of you and all you can do is take it when Joel resumes his thrusts, fucking you through your messy orgasm. 
Despite your insistent begging of wanting him to come inside, Joel pulls out, coming undone instantly as he does so. He rubs himself over your mound, thick ropes of come spurting across your stomach and even the underside of your right breast. He releases your legs and they fall limply to his sides. 
Joel kisses you long and deep, his weight comforting above your trembling body. When he finally pulls away, he lets out a low chuckle and brushes your noses together. 
“I think he left, sweetheart.” 
“Good,” you mumble and press a quick kiss to his flushed lips. “All I want is you.” 
Liam’s not your boyfriend anymore. 
4K notes · View notes
proxima-writes · 6 months
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𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐛 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬
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pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader
rating: explicit
word count: 4.1k
summary: joel agrees to go out to tommy’s favorite bar, where he watches you ride a mechanical bull and wishes you would ride him.
warnings: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), no use of y/n, dual POV, no defined reader age or physical appearance besides outfits, alcohol use, joel getting slapped, tommy is a little shit, first date anxiety, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, praise, pet names, girl on top, couch sex, unprotected p in v, teasing, deep throating, more men whimpering and begging 2k23. let me know if any warnings are missing!
author’s note: look, i know i’m in the middle of my spooky specials but i saw two very specific tik toks that left me with the need to write this 😵‍💫 also this post layout is inspired by @bits-and-babs, whose works and aesthetic are chef’s kiss.
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“Why did you pick this place?” Joel grumbles, hand wrapped around a sweating bottle of beer. People keep jostling him as they squeeze past, forcing him to keep his elbow tight to his side to avoid having his beer be collateral damage.
“You’ll see,” Tommy says with a cryptic wink. Joel rolls his eyes.
Tommy has dragged him out to a saloon style bar, complete with swinging wooden doors and longhorn skulls decorating the walls. Everything is shiny dark wood and western motif, down to the saddle style barstools. Most of the patrons have leaned into the theme, too — tassels, leather, cowboys hats, and ostentatious belt buckles.
“Alright, ladies and gentlemen!” A man’s voice calls out over the speakers. “The show is about to begin!”
“Show?” Joel asks dubiously. Tommy only grins at him, dragging him by the arm towards the back of the bar.
He weaves through the crowd until they’re only behind a few rows of people that have gathered around a mechanical bull riding ring, of all things. The floor of the ring is inflatable and in the middle sits the brown bull figure. Joel catches his first glimpse of you, a gorgeous woman in denim cut offs standing beside the bull. Your black leather halter top plunges low to expose your cleavage and stops short of the waist of your shorts, a tantalizing strip of your stomach on display. The black leather of the top matches your black leather boots and the cuffs snapped around your wrists.
“One of Salty Saloon’s very own has stepped up to take the bull by the horns tonight!”
You lift a hand to wave, bright smile on your face as you take in the crowd. Your eyes land on Joel and for a brief moment he swears he stops breathing. He can’t hear anything the emcee is saying, all the noise around him just a dull buzz as he watches you swing yourself up onto the back of the bull.
“Alright, alright, alright! Our rider’s goal is to stay on for one minute using only one hand! If she falls before the buzzer, y’all get nothin’. But if she makes it, shots are half off for the rest of the night!”
A cacophony of cheers erupts around Joel and you straighten your spine, holding your hand out with a thumbs up. The music starts, some pop song he’s heard on the radio in the morning when he’s taking Sarah to school, and the mechanical bull turns in a slow circle. You have one hand twisted in a leather strap, the other raised above your head as the bull bucks and swings, your hips moving smoothly with the machine.
“Goddamn,” someone says from behind Joel. “I ain’t ever wanted to be a bull so bad in my life.”
Me, too, he thinks.
Your thighs press tight against the sides of the bull as it swings around, turning you to face the section of crowd Joel stands in. You release the hand grip, both hands in the air now as you rely solely on your legs and core to keep you up on the machine. When the machine turns again, you manage to lift your body and swing your legs around to reverse your position, now seated facing the back of the bull.
“Alright, ten more seconds!” The emcee calls out. The crowd starts to cheer your name and Joel can’t help but join in, eyes glued to you as you continue to swing and sway like all the movements are nothing but second nature to you.
“Three! Two! One!”
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A cowbell goes off, signaling the end of your ride. The bull slows to a stop and you sit there for a moment to catch your breath, waving at the crowd. The bar owner, Johnny, comes out onto the crash pad with a huge grin on his face.
“Great job up there, kid. Now go sell some half priced shots,” he says with a good natured pat on your shoulder.
You return to the bar, where the other two bartenders scheduled tonight field the after-show rush, lining up shot glasses and filling them in quick succession with the requested liquor. When you get behind the bar, a familiar head of curly hair catches your eye.
“Tommy!” You call, excited to see one of you favorite regulars. He shouts your name as you stop in front of him.
“This is my brother, Joel!” He says, slapping the back of the man beside him. You’d seen him in the crowd, a handsome guy with broad shoulders stretching a dark blue t-shirt, warm tan skin, and messy curls that speak to the family resemblance between him and Tommy. You reach a hand across the bar, Joel’s calloused fingers dragging against your palm as you greet the man.
“It’s nice to meet you, Joel. Can I get y’all anything?” You ask. Tommy grins.
“Let me get this man a slap shot!” He yells.
You glance at Joel. “That okay with you?” You ask.
His eyes are comically wide as he nods. You step back to ring the bell behind the bar, your fellow bartenders whooping and cheering, a chant of “SLAP SHOT! SLAP SHOT!” echoing around you.
Haley sets a glass of water on the bar for you and you grab a pint glass, filling it with ice and two ounces of Jim Beam and amaretto. You smack the steel shaker on top, grabbing both glasses and shaking them vigorously over your shoulder.
You strain the contents of the shaker into a shot glass, amber liquid flowing to the brim. When you’ve got everything ready, you leave the back of the bar and squeeze your way through the crowd until you’re in front of the two brothers and can hoist yourself up onto the bar.
“Alright, Joel, are you ready?” You shout. He looks a little confused, brows pinched tight over kind brown eyes, but he nods anyway, holding his hand out for the shot glass. Tommy watches with a shit eating grin. “Three! Two! One!”
Joel takes the shot and you follow it with a glass of water to his face and a slap across his jaw in quick succession. Tommy is howling with laughter and Joel’s face is one of pure shock, red blooming across the skin of his cheek. He turns to his brother.
“Tommy, what the fuck!” Joel shouts. His hand wraps into the neck of Tommy’s shirt. “You little fuckin’ shit!”
You have the sinking realization that Joel wasn’t prepared for what a slap shot entails. You had just assumed this was something Tommy had told him about, having been to the bar so much the last few months.
Joel looks mad as hell, his shoulders tense and you worry he may actually throw a punch at Tommy. You hop from the bar and get between the two men, pressing a hand to their chests and pushing them apart.
"You, come with me," you say, pointing to Joel. "And you," -- you jab a finger into Tommy's chest -- "are on my shit list."
You take Joel by the hand and guide him to the back office, shutting the door and muffling the noises of the bar beyond it. His face is still dripping wet and the water dripping from his chin has gathered into a sizeable spot on the collar of his shirt.
"I am so, so sorry," you start, rifling through the storage cabinet for a bar towel. You hold it out to him, avoiding his gaze. "Tommy comes here so much that I just thought he'd told you about what a slap shot was. I should have told you, oh my god."
"Hey, it's okay. I ain't mad at you," Joel says, running the towel over his damp face. "Tommy, though. I'm gonna kick his fuckin' ass later."
"Still," you mumble, twisting your hands together nervously. "I'm sorry. Is your cheek okay?"
He rubs the towel over his head to dry his hair a bit, the action leaving him adorable mussed, curly strands sticking up in every direction. You're staring at him, maybe a little too much, but who can blame you? The man is hot.
"Yeah, trust me. I've had worse," Joel replies with a laugh.
"You get slapped by women often?" You tease.
"The number of times ain't just one."
"Oh, a bad boy. Mama warned me about guys like you."
He laughs again, long and low, running a hand through his hair. "Well, thank you for the towel."
"Right. And your next drink is on me. As an apology," you tell him.
"I'd rather get your number," he says. "You know, as an apology."
You raise your eyebrows at him before turning to the manager's desk, grabbing a marker and tugging the cap off with your teeth. You slide a hand down his arm, lifting his forearm up so that you can write down your number across the smooth, tan skin.
"I'm off next weekend," you comment when you've recapped the marker.
"I'll keep that in mind," Joel replies with a grin.
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Joel's nervous as he waits outside of your apartment building in his truck, fingers tapping a nameless tune against the steering wheel. It's Saturday night and he's here to pick you up for dinner at a restaurant in downtown Austin, one that required he dig out the old black button down he keeps shoved in the back of his closet for parent-teacher conferences and funerals.
The front door to your building opens and you emerge, dressed in a pretty red wrap dress and black heels. Joel gets out of the truck and jogs around to the passenger side to open the door for you and he's surprised when you lean up and kiss him on the cheek.
"Hey," you say in greeting, climbing into the truck and settling into the passenger seat, your purse on your lap. Joel can't help the dopey grin that's surely stretched across his face.
“Hey, yourself. You look nice,” he replies. He shuts the door and jogs around the the driver’s side.
“You don’t look so bad either,” you tell him as he starts the truck up. He can feel his cheeks get warm and he hopes that you can’t see him the proof of his nerves in the dark cab.
At the restaurant, the host leads you both to a small table towards the back of the restaurant, pristine white tablecloth topped with a small vase of flowers and a flickering votive candle. A waiter in a white button down comes by to take your drink orders before disappearing the the kitchen, leaving the two of you regarding each other in silence.
“Look, I gotta be honest about somethin’,” Joel says, leg bouncing beneath the table. “I’ve got a kid. Sarah, she’s thirteen. Light of my life, you know?” He takes a deep breath before finishing with, “And I don’t think I’ve even been on a date since she’s been born, so this is just…a little new to me.”
“You have a kid?” You ask. For a moment Joel worries that he may have ended this before it could even get a chance to begin, but then your face lights up with a sweet smile and you ask, “Will you tell me about her?”
Joel does. In between ordering and eating your delicious meals, you and Joel discuss anything and everything. He tells you about Sarah and his contracting work, while you tell him about your full time job as a pharmacy technician, the gig at the bar a part time thing on some weekends. He nearly makes you snort your water out of your nose with a story about rescuing Tommy from the bathroom of the girl he’d been seeing when her long distance boyfriend, who Tommy didn’t know existed, showed up at her apartment.
“Oh my god,” you exclaim breathlessly. “And he just jumped out of the bathroom window?”
“To be fair, she had a first floor unit,” Joel confirms. “His royal pain in the ass still made me take him to urgent care because he thought he broke his ankle.”
“You’re a good brother,” you say with a smile. Joel feels the warmth of it in his veins.
After dinner, the ride back to your place is quiet, the comfortable silence filled with the low music from the radio. In a moment of bravery, Joel reaches over and lays a hand on your low thigh, just above your knee as he drives. He refuses to look over at you, but from the corner of his eye he sees you look down at his hand before looking back out the window.
He counts that as a win.
He pulls up the curb outside your apartment and kills the engine. You speak before he has a chance to agonize over what to say.
“Will you walk me to my door?” You ask.
He feels relief and anxiety in one fell swoop. He agonizes internally over whether to kiss you goodnight as he follows you up the stairs to your apartment, the buzzing in his brain momentarily silenced while he watches your hips sway as you climb the steps.
You stop on the second floor, guiding him down a long hallway to a door marked with a black metal number three. You turn to face him, looking up at him through your lashes.
“This is me,” you murmur. Joel swallows nervously.
“Right. I, uh…I had a really great time tonight,” he says.
“Would you…want to come inside?”
Joel’s brain short circuits. “Would I—? Yeah.”
You turn to unlock the door, pushing into your apartment and Joel follows you inside. The apartment is dark but you quickly turn on the lights as you move further inside, illuminating an open living room with a dining nook. There’s a door off to the right that he assumes is your bedroom and an open kitchen to the left. It’s small, but it’s cozy, bursting with colors and fabrics and mismatched furniture.
“Well, this is home,” you say with a shrug. You set your purse down on the small circular dining table. “Can I get you anything to drink? I’ve got beer, some liquor on the bar cart over there if you want to have a look.”
“Beer is fine,” Joel says, taking a seat on the comfy looking couch. You return with a bottle of beer, passing it to him before settling in beside him, kicking off your heels and drawing your legs up beneath you.
He takes a sip, fortifying his nerves. He wasn’t lying when he said it’s been a long time since he’s been on a date, but even sex has been a distant thought for the last year or so. He doesn’t want to mess this up.
“So,” you start, your elbow pressed into the back couch cushion while you lean your face into the palm of your hand. “You wanna know what I think?”
“‘Bout what?” Joel asks.
“You.”
“You got a report card ready for me already?”
“I think” — you take the beer bottle from his hand, setting it on the coffee table — “you’ve spent a long time being a caretaker. Right? You’ve got Tommy, who was already a handful. Your daughter, who’s obviously priority number one. You’ve got a business to worry about, workers to care for.” You shuffle closer on your knees, swinging a leg over his and settling yourself onto his lap. “This okay?” You ask.
“Yeah,” he replies, probably a bit too enthusiastically. His fingers curl into the couch cushions and he wants to reach up to wrap his hands around your waist but he’s not sure if he should.
You play with the collar of his shirt. “What do you think about having someone take care of you for a change?”
Joel’s stomach flips, cock jumping in interest as the blood in his brain rushes south and leaves him only capable of responding with a mumbled, “Oh?”
“I just think you deserve someone treating you real nice,” you say with a shrug. Deft fingers work at undoing the buttons of his shirt. “Especially when I was so mean when we met, slapping you across the face like I did.”
“Told you not to worry ‘bout that,” he replies, head dropping against the back cushions. “S’not like I didn’t like it.”
“You like to be roughed up a little, Mr. Miller?”
“Maybe.”
Your grin is wicked as you drag your nails down the now exposed skin of his chest. He hisses at the sting of it.
“Interesting,” you murmur. You lean close, chest pressed against his, hands coming up to frame his face. Your nails scratch through his beard now and he groans his appreciation.
“Can I kiss you?” He asks. “Please?”
You respond by pressing your lips to his, chaste as first. Your mouths move together slowly, feeling each other out. It’s you that takes it deeper, tracing your tongue over his bottom lip and dipping it inside to tangle with his. He wraps his arms around your low back, holding you tightly in his lap as he consumes you, drunk on the feeling of your breath in his lungs.
You drags yours lips away from his with a slick sound, trailing them along his jaw and towards his ear. You nip at his earlobe, teeth gentle and breath hot before whispering, “Can I suck your cock, Joel?”
A whimper claws it’s way up Joel’s throat as he nods, already unable to form words. He’s no stranger to turning into a puddle for a pretty woman but he’s certain this must be a new record.
You slip from his lap and kneel on the floor, pushing his legs apart so that you can settle in between them. Your hands reach for his belt, tugging on the buckle and pulling it loose so that you can pop the button of his jeans and tug the zipper down, the metallic sound loud in the quiet room.
Your fingers curl into the waist of his jeans and Joel lifts his hips a bit to aid you in tugging them halfway down his thighs. His cock tents his boxers in an obscene way, a wet spot already staining the fabric. You run your palms up his thighs before bracketing his member between your hands, lightly running your thumbs up his length.
“Christ,” Joel says, teeth digging into his lip.
“That feel good?” You ask.
“Uh huh.”
You smile beatifically before leaning forward, warm breath on his covered cock as you press gentle kisses through the fabric. Joel’s hips twitch and he lets out a deep groan.
You tug the elastic of his boxers over his length, tucking it beneath his balls. He’s practically vibrating with need but you continue to take your sweet time, pressing more kisses along his shaft, tracing the tip of your tongue over the prominent vein.
“You have a pretty cock, Joel,” you say, wrapping your hand around the base of him to hold him steady. It’s a struggle to keep his eyes open but he doesn’t want to miss the sight of your tongue lapping at the bead of precum gathered on his flushed tip, or the way your own eyes flutter shut as you let out a little moan of appreciation.
You wrap your lips around his cock, taking him inch by agonizing inch into your warm mouth and Joel feels any semblance of sanity disappear from his lust clouded brain. Your eyes stay fixed on him as take him in as far as you can, throat fluttering around the sensitive head when you swallow before pulling up, twirling your tongue around the tip, and plunging back down.
“Christ,” Joel groans, reaching out to cup your cheek. “You look so goddamn good like that.”
You lift off his cock and take it in your hand, moving it across your lips as you ask, “Like what?”
“Chokin’ on my cock, sweetheart,” he growls.
“That was nothing.”
Joel’s about to ask what you mean when you lower your mouth over his length once more. He can feel you flatten your tongue, your throat and jaw relaxing enough to take him to the very base, your nose tickling the wiry curls on his pelvis. He moans as you swallow around him, breathing through your nose and holding yourself there for a moment before coming up with a gasp, tears gathered in the corners of your eyes and spit making your chin shiny in the low light.
“So…I could keep doing this,” you tell him, “or…”
“Or?” He asks.
“Or…you could let me make us both feel good.”
You stand up, your hands untying the knot that holds your dress together so you can push it off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a heap. You push your panties down your legs and unhook your bra, leaving you gloriously naked in front him, every inch of you like a piece of art meant to be admired. Joel’s hands, greedy and unfulfilled up until now, reach up to grip your hips and pull you onto his lap, your pussy hot and wet against his cock. He lets his hands wander over every inch of exposed skin, relishing the way your ass fits in his palms and the way you hiss when his thumb caresses a tight nipple.
“You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he moans, his lips against your rapid pulse, teeth ghosting the thin skin of your neck. “Need you so bad, baby.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” you whisper, reaching between your bodies to hold his throbbing cock steady, notching it at your soaked entrance and beginning a slow slide down.
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Joel is panting against your sweat slick chest, mumbling desperate words into your skin as you take him inside of you as slowly as you can, thighs burning with the effort. When you’ve finally seated yourself on his lap, his head drops back to the cushion, eyes squeezed shut tightly and fingers nearly bruising on your thighs.
“Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move,” he begs. “Oh, fuck, feels so good.”
Where he’s desperate for you to stay still, you’re already desperate to move. His cock is perfect, thick and long with a slight upward curve, pressing up against your g-spot with stunning accuracy. You’re certain this won’t last long for either of you.
You rock slowly, forward and back, little movements of your hips. Joel lifts his head, looking down at where your bodies are connected with dark eyes. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, tangling your fingers in his hair and giving it a sharp tug that has him hissing your name.
You start to move more quickly, rolling your body in smooth waves over his. He’s panting as he looks up at you, sweat gathering at his temple, and his hands grip your ass and follow your movement reverently.
“So fuckin’ good,” he moans, “you’re gonna make me come, baby, goddamn.”
You speed up, bouncing on his lap now. Your couch creaks the slightest bit, protesting your movements, but you don’t care — all you care about is the man beneath you and the desperate little noises spilling from his lips as you make good on your promise to take care of him.
“Touch me,” you command. “I’m so close, Joel, please.”
He’s a good listener, your Joel, his thumb immediately finding your clit and circling it with messy movements that drive you wild, that tension in your muscles coiling tighter. Joel’s hips flex into yours with each drop down his length, the room echoing with the lewd sounds of skin against skin and the chorus of whimpers that spill from both of you.
“Joel, Joel, Joel,” you chant. He wraps his arms around you, really thrusting into you now as your own movements falter and you collapse forward, head buried against his neck as you come, trembling with the strength of it.
It’s not long after that he goes still, cock pulsing inside of you as the aftershocks of your orgasm wash over you. You stay slumped against each other, catching your breaths and waiting for your racing hearts to come back down to earth.
“That was…,” Joel says with a breathless laugh that shakes his chest. His fingers play up and down your back, soothing and gentle. “Goddamn, that was amazin’.”
“Yeah?” You ask, lifting your head. You smooth his messy hair back from his forehead. “You weren’t so bad either.”
He nips at your neck in retaliation, making you laugh and squirm away from him.
“Do you have to get going?” You ask.
“No,” he replies. “Tommy’s watchin’ Sarah for me tonight. He owes me one. Besides, I’m ain’t done with you yet.”
“No?”
“Not even close, darlin’.”
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garnish {better together - one shot}
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Paring: Chef! Joel Miller x Professor! Reader (Formerly known as Bartender! Reader)
Summary: Joel shows his impatience as he shows up just as your lecture is ending, unable to wait for your invitation of coffee to become real.
Word Count: 530
Warnings: age gap (joel is mid to late 40's / reader is late 20's, early 30's), established relationship, adult content, sexual content, smut, illusions to smut, allusions to p in v, unprotected p n v, joel and reader are down bad for each other
A/N: i missed them.
ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi
“Are you asking me out on a date, Mr. Miller? I believe I asked you for a coffee already?” You didn’t hide the teasing from your tone as you watched the way he explored the space of your lecture room. The class having just ended, a quick side hug from Ellie before she rushed off to a study session with a few other students for the final exam next session. You had told him coffee would most likely happen after the semester, but he hadn’t seemed to like that.
“That's my intention, but if you just want to try a hand at the friend thing, I'm okay with that. just miss you, is all, darlin. Been missin' you this whole time." He turned from the high windows, having climbed the stairs a bit to take a look out on the campus grounds from the spot. The afternoon light warm over him, making you think of home. And damn if the smirk you had aimed at him melted into something gooey and soft.
"A date sounds nice." Closing the distance, you come up beside him and lean into his space, hand resting on his chest as you place a chaste kiss to his cheek. "But don't go thinking I’m gonna sleep with you on the first one, got that?"
He doesn't call you out on it when the next morning you wake up alongside him, clothes strewn across the stairs leading up to his bedroom. Content for the first time in nearly a year as you lay tangled together and talk about the time you spent apart.
Even despite the rather loud, exaggerated reaction of Ellie as she comes home herself to find the trail of clothes you two had been lazy to pick up.
“If this is gonna be a regular thing, please at least keep to the second floor! This first one is my safe space.”
“Oh, I plan on makin’ it a regular thing. What about you darlin’, like the sound of that?”
Your answer was a hard press of your lips to his, surging up from where you had been on your stomach beside him, facing him as he laid back on the pillows. Straddling him, you took his face in both your hands and swiped your tongue along the already breaking seal of his lips.
The feel of him, hard and weeping pinned between your bodies took your breath away. He chuckled low, rumbling beneath you as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and shifted you both. Looking up at him from your back now, legs wrapping around his waist instinctively, sliding into place like they belonged there. He hovered close, a slip of teeth as he smirked down at you.
“How’s that sound, darlin’?”
“Sounds pretty damn good to me.” You shared in his playful tone, nipping at his bottom lip and pulling it slightly. He groaned, throbbing cock sliding through the slick of your seam before pushing in.
“It better. Cause you’re mine, darlin.”
“I’m yours.” It was more of a whine as the feeling of him stretching you overwhelmed your senses.
Everything else falling away as he began to rock into you.
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