#Joel Miller smut

[citrusrei]

a lil' something sweet

Farmhand! Joel x Married! Reader

summary: After your husbands aunt passes away, he takes on the responsibility of caring after the beloved family farm. Coming from the city after living there your whole life to moving to a huge farm in the middle of nowhere is a shock to you. But what shocks you even more is the comfort you find from the live-in farmhand, Joel Miller.

word count: 25.5k

warnings/tags: 18+ only. MINORS DNI. no outbreak AU. non canon Joel. country side on a farm type shit. Joel is a lonely man. Kinda creepy but in a sexy way. heavy petting. thigh riding. Joel finishes in his pants. Infidelity (oops). joel's possessive but not in a toxic way (outloud). unprotected p-in-v sex. creampies. slight breeding kink if you squint right. age gap. reader is mid to late 20's and joel is pushin' 50. petnames (baby, baby doll, baby girl, darlin', ya know). readers husband is a real dick. slight fatshaming (we hate the husband). joel makes it better. lots of soft touches and kisses. fluffy, angsty, smutty. happy ending. (no y/n, reader is AFAB. minimal physical descriptions)

a/n: this was fun to write cause desperate, needy joel is my absolute favorite thing. also the word count makes me go brrr cause wdym it's so long?? and while we don't usuallyyy fuck with infidelity, it was warranted here. please pay attention to the warnings if you don't like any of what is mentioned, don't read it. thank u all tho and i hope u enjoy it ~

this was a long mf time coming

-

You were never a fan of the countryside. Being somewhere so far from civilization terrified you. What do you mean the nearest big grocery store was over an hour away… in each direction? So, when your husband told you his Aunt Karla had passed, and that he’d be taking care of the family farm, you began to panic. You were sympathetic of course and consoled him as best you could, but leaving the city? Hell, you'd even considered divorce; it was that serious. Not really, but almost.

The drive was long and tiring. You’d rented a moving truck and packed all your belongings from your hometown and drove the seven hours it took to reach his aunt's farm. Anxiety set in almost immediately as the tall buildings and fast-food restaurants on every other corner disappeared. Trees and fields and wildflowers surrounded your view as the long and narrow highway seemed to go on forever. Your husband, Luke, decided to make a few pit stops for gas or bathroom breaks, even a quick fuck in the front seat on the side of the road- which, you weren’t really all that into.

Seven grueling hours later, the farm came into view. It was a lot larger than what you thought it was going to be. The two-story farm home sat in the middle of the plot of land, surrounded by lots of trees. A big, peeling red barn sat to the left and to the right, at least two or three horses roamed in a fenced area. What was Luke thinking? You had never stepped foot on a farm in your life besides maybe an elementary school field trip 20 years ago. How did he think you’d be able to handle a barn full of animals?

Luke parked the moving van in front of the house which sat on a hill. Concrete stairs led up to the front door and you sighed, dreading the trips back and forth. Luke gave you a pointed look before sighing himself.

“Listen… we’re doing my family a favor by taking over the farm. And it's not going to be forever. Just a couple years and then when Nick gets back from the Marines, he said he’d take it and then we’ll head back to the city, okay?” Luke says in annoyance, mentioning his brother. You nod, grabbing your purse from the front seat and heading up the stairs to check the house out.

Stepping inside felt surreal, like you’d gone into a different decade as you gazed at all the antique furniture, hutches with fine China, and flowered wallpaper. You couldn’t help but let out a deep breath as you set your purse down, walking into the kitchen. It was nice and quaint, and honestly it made you feel some semblance of comfort as you took in the marble counter tops and Chicken themed decorations.

You loved to cook and bake, and as you saw the built-in pasta maker on the counter and the bread oven on the far wall, you had a thought that maybe you could do this. Maybe you could make this work.

After a moment, Luke steps inside as you wander around the house, noting the three bedrooms and the two and a half baths the home has to offer. He huffs out heavily, setting down three boxes stacked on one another. “Uh, honey? Are you going to help or what?” he asks, a bit of bite to his tone.

“Sorry, I was just checking everything out. The master bedroom is nice! But it’s kinda stuffy in here. Where do I turn the AC on?” You ask curiously only to be met with a scowl. Your eyebrows knit in confusion as you wait for him to answer.

“Jesus… This house was made in like, 1803. There’s no air conditioning, babe. If it’s stuffy, open the windows.” Luke says as he turns around, heading back to the truck.

You throw your head back in frustration. No grocery stores nearby, no air conditioning, all these damn animals, and of course Luke being an asshole about it all. You’d been quiet about this whole thing since Luke told you, not asked, but told you he’d taken over his aunt's farm. You didn’t want to complain or make it seem like an inconvenience when he was grieving. But it was. You weren’t cut out for this life and that was okay. Unfortunately, you loved your husband and told yourself to at least give it a shot. That was a decision you were beginning to regret.

“Come on! I’m doing all the work here!” Luke yells from the truck, bringing you from your thoughts. You close your eyes for a moment longer before heading down the steps to help him. Maybe he’ll be in a better mood once you’re done setting everything up. At least you could only hope.

A few hours pass and you have most of your belongings unpacked. You’d left a lot of stuff back at your apartment in the city since your sister was going to take over your lease while you were away. All that was left to be taken care of was the bedroom stuff.

Your eyes settle on the cuckoo clock as it chimes, 6pm already. You excuse yourself from unpacking as you head downstairs to start working on dinner. Luke groans about how he’s had to do all the work all day, but lets you go downstairs to cook. Nodding, you head down the steps into the kitchen, figuring out where to start.

After Karla passed, a lot of the stuff she had was packed and separated between family members, but they left the kitchen alone. You opened the fridge, deciding to start there. It was still full of stuff, and you began to make a mental note of what ingredients you saw. A couple fresh eggs, milk, butter, some different meats and veggies. After checking the rest of the kitchen, you came up with the idea of breakfast for dinner. Waffles, eggs, and bacon.

As you got to work, you didn’t notice the back porch door swing wide open. And you definitely didn’t notice the man that came in through it. He sets a basket of farm fresh eggs on the counter, bringing you from your thoughts as you whisk together the batter.

Your eyes widen as you jump with a yelp, clutching your chest as the man stares at you with a blank expression. He doesn’t offer his hand or anything, he just stares and says, “Joel.”

As your heart settles, you nod slowly. “Your name is Joel?

Joel nods too, his eyes leaving yours as he sees Luke enter the room.

“Honey, what’s the matter, why did you yell? Oh! You’ve met Joel.” Luke smiles, “Babe, this is Joel Miller. He’s the farm hand. He takes care of the animals and stuff, cleans the farm up, gathers… eggs. He’s worked for my aunt forever.” Luke continues as his eyes glance down at the basket Joel brought in.

“Nice to meet you, Joel. Sorry, I was really concentrated on making this waffle batter I didn’t even hear you come in.” You say softly, a small smile on your lips.

“’S okay. I can be kinda quiet sometimes. I’ll holler next time I drop the eggs off.” Joel speaks. His voice is gruff and low. Somehow nostalgic, or at least that’s what you thought as your chest fills with a familiar feeling. Your eyes traveled to his as you smiled, taking in the features of this stranger.

He was older. Maybe in his early 50’s or late 40’s. He had a broad nose with a scar on the bridge. His chocolate brown eyes seem tired, but kind; inviting. His hair was dark and graying and as your eyes traveled lower, you noticed how his arms seemed to bulge under the dirtied, navy-blue shirt he was in. ‘Handsome’ was the first word to pop into your mind. You cleared your throat and looked at Luke who seemed annoyed about something. What’s new?

“Well, see you folks later. It was nice meetin’ you, sweetheart.” Joel says as he makes his leave. You watch him go before turning back to the batter, trying to finish everything up. Once dinner time finally arrives, Luke ends up complaining the entirety of the meal about how waffles are breakfast food and having them for dinner is like a crime against humanity. You think it’s funny how he eats them anyways.

The first night here sucks. It’s incredibly hot as the thick quilt on his aunt's bed sticks to your skin. Sweat beads from your forehead as you toss and turn, dripping down your neck and back. Deciding you can’t do it anymore, you throw the comforter off you and stomp downstairs, irritated by every little thing from today. The long drive, the car sex, Luke’s attitude, the heat. You head through the kitchen to the back porch, and you finally get relief in the form of the cool night breeze. You feel your sweat dry against your skin, leaving you sticky but honestly, you couldn’t care less right now. The breeze has a nip to it, signaling summers soon-to-be end, and you couldn’t wait.

Your eyes close, savoring the fresh air against your cheeks. You don’t know how much time passes but you only open them when you hear the sound of a guitar in the wind. Looking around the backyard, you notice a small guest house down the hill. It had to be Joel’s. The porch light is on, the front door open, and before you can even think, you begin to walk towards it.

The tiny home isn’t far away from the main house, but a good enough distance that you realize you probably should have put shoes on. Gravel digs into your heels, but it doesn’t hurt. The guitar becomes louder as you approach, a melancholic tune strummed from the strings. As you reach the house, doubt fills your mind. You probably shouldn’t even be here just showing up like some creep. But you also figure you’ve come this far… Plus, it’d be nice to get to know him in some capacity considering he works here on the farm you’ll be living on. Or that’s what you tell yourself.

You step quietly onto the wood porch, savoring the cool night air and the sadness of his guitar. Now that you’re closer, you can hear Joel humming too. An unsure smile etches on to your face as you walk into the doorway, working up the courage before knocking on the wood.

“Hey… sorry to bother you.” You say softly, not wanting to alarm him.

Joel looks up to you in surprise, his fingers stop against the neck of his guitar. “Oh, well, hi there. What can I do for you?”

“Oh! Nothing. I was… I was just on the back porch trying to cool off and I heard a guitar. Figured this is where you stay, and I thought I’d come and say hi. Maybe listen to you play for a bit?” You say nervously. You almost feel embarrassed. You don’t even know this man.

Joel looks a bit confused at first before nodding to the couch next to his rocking chair he’s sitting in. You pad into the house with little steps before sitting down. Your body flushes with nerves as you look at him, like you’re waiting for something to happen.

Joel doesn’t say anything. He just begins to play again, a different song this time. You settle into the plaid couch as he strums, the cool air from the front door being open blows in and you shiver. Your eyes widen as you realize you’re in your ivory, silk nightie and embarrassment floods your cheeks for real this time. Joel probably thinks you’re insane, or maybe he thinks you’re wanting to seduce him. Which, no, of course you weren't; you’re married! Red flushes against your cheeks and you subconsciously pull your nightgown down, trying to cover your knees.

Joel plays for a while before speaking. He clears his throat, hesitating a moment, “So… you know who George Jones is?” He asks. You shake your head, a smile on your lips. “No, can’t say I do. Who is he?”

He smiles softly too, at least you think it’s a smile. “He was a country singer… Old country singer from way before you were even a twinkle in your mama’s eyes. Has a lot of sad songs, which I like to play, I guess. But uh… 'was just wondering if you knew his music. I'll play one of his songs for you.” You nod curiously, adjusting your body to give him your full attention.

The song starts off slow, his fingers moving expertly along the frets of the guitar, rough voice singing low.

“He said, ‘I’ll love you till I die’. She said, ‘You’ll forget in time’. As the years went slowly by, she still preyed upon his mind.”

Your eyes widen at the lyric's, realizing Joel was probably right. This was a sad song. You weren’t expecting him to sing either. But you didn’t mind it. It was really nice actually. It was so melodic and entrancing, you don't take notice of the dust of pink that kissed the apples of your cheeks.

You sit and listen to him perform through this song that breaks your heart and he finally gets to the chorus.

“He stopped loving her today. They placed a wreath upon his door. And soon they’ll carry him away. He stopped loving her today.”

You suck a breath quick breath, feeling your vision blur as he finishes the song. By the time it's over, your head rests in your palms against the arm of the couch, watching Joel intently as tears pool in your eyes. Joel stops, placing his hand against the strings as he looks at you, his own eyes widening at the shimmer in yours.

“Wait-what’s wrong, darli-”

“He died?” You exclaim emotionally, a tear slipping out. “That song is about a man who loves this woman even though they’re not together anymore but only stops ‘cause he dies? And she goes to his funeral?” Your eyes close as you sit up. Those welled up tears falling against your cheeks. “That’s so sad."

Joel chuckles softly, setting his guitar against the end table. “I did tell you I like to play them sad songs, did I not?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think it was sad like that. Like, maybe it was about a man losing his horse. Or selling his tractor for a new one. Not about loving his soulmate and then dying!” You cry.

“’m sorry, darlin’. Didn’t mean to make you cry. Just thought you might like it.” He says apologetically, passing you his handkerchief from his pocket.

“No, no. I did like it. You’re talented, Joel, I just… damn… that was so… sad.” You sigh as you take the handkerchief and wipe your tears before letting your hands fall into your lap. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to cry. I’ve just… had a day.”

Joel’s eyebrow quirks, “That Luke boy of yours being a brat?”

Your eyes snap to the older man and you nod slightly. “I mean, kinda. He’s just… been on one lately. I think it’s the stress of moving here so quickly. I mean, we uprooted our whole lives and moved here within a week of Karla passing. It’s been a lot for both of us.” You breathe out. You hadn’t mentioned your frustrations to anyone, but it felt good to say something. You’d been keeping it in too long for your liking.

Joel sighs knowingly, “Yeah, I can imagine. Packin’ up your life then moving to a place you’ve never been before. It’s gotta be hard.” He pauses for a moment, debating his next words, “Uh, Karla loved her nephew… But Luke would come here during the summer when he was little, and he was uh… quite the handful to say the least. Seems like he still is.” Joel reaches for his glass of what you assumed to be whiskey or bourbon based on the color, the ice in the cup long melted as the condensation trickles down the sides. You pause for a moment, watching him sip on the liquid, his Adams apple bobbing up and down. You suddenly felt parched too.

“I mean he’s stubborn, sure… but he has good moments. I wouldn’t have married him if he didn’t.” You say quietly, your voice trailing off.

Joel eyes you for a second and hums in acknowledgment. “I didn’t say he didn’t have his good moments, darlin’.”

You bite your lip after he says that. You didn’t need to justify anything to him. It was just… habit. You'd always stood up for him. Luke was a good guy. You thought so at least. Maybe others didn't.

He sets his glass down on the table next to him and looks up to the clock. It reads just past one in the morning. “Well, I don’t mean to be a bad host but it’s gettin’ late. Don’t want your husband thinkin’ you gone missing on him, huh?”

Your eyes widen as you realize the time and you stand up, adjusting your nightgown again. “No, you’re right. I lost track of time. And honestly Luke might throw a fit if he wakes up and I’m not there.” You hover around the couch for a moment longer before heading towards the door. Looking back at Joel, you notice him looking right back at you. “Thanks for playing me some music. It was a well needed peaceful moment after my day. Even if you made me cry.”

Joel let’s out an amused breath, “Yeah, well, don’t get used to no personal concerts. It was a special occasion tonight for your first night here. Alright?”

“Got it. Thanks again, Joel. I’m sure I’ll see you soon. Have a good night, okay?” You say as you wave and make your way back to the house, feeling slightly better than earlier. Joel nods at you, watching you make your way back inside before he shuts his own door, sighing to himself and shaking his head.

As you reach the house and shut the back door behind you, you realize you still had Joel’s green handkerchief, gripped in your palm. A sigh leaves your lips as you make a mental note to give it back to him tomorrow after washing it. You tuck it away in the laundry basket by the door and then head upstairs, making sure to be as quiet as possible as you slip back into bed. Luke turns in his sleep; throwing am arm over you. It’s comforting. Something he hasn’t done in a while. You smile as you begin to drift off, feeling safe in your husband's arms. As sleep beckons you, you don’t even realize how your thoughts drift back to your time with Joel. The way his fingers strummed against the guitar, and the way his low voice rasped the sad words of that George Jones song. Or the way he looked at you, his eyes locked on to yours as tears welled up, the softness his molasses-colored ones held.

About a month passes of the farm life and it’s really not so bad. Yeah, you kinda hate the smell that lingers from the barn, and you hate that damn rooster that crows every morning at 6 on the dot. But other than that, it hasn’t been too bad. You even learn there’s a local grocery store up the road a couple miles and although the prices are up charged a bit, you’re able to get your comfort bag of Hot Cheetos here and there.

Luke has been an asshole still, sadly. Especially now that he’s working remotely, and the internet out here sucks. And now that you’re not working, since you had to quit your job before moving here, there isn’t much for you to do to pass the time.

Your days consist of cleaning the house, doing laundry, napping on the green velvet couch Karla had as old soap operas play in the background. You like to walk around the property sometimes, finding that being around nature isn’t horrible. The sound of the leaves shaking with the wind and the crickets by the creek in the back have become relaxing to you. Who would have thought?

What really has been getting you by however, is baking. Karla had dozens of cookbooks from the 60’s and 70’s all filled with interesting, and sometimes disgusting recipes. In the last month you’d made maybe 10 loaves of bread, such as pumpkin, zucchini, banana, apple cinnamon, and even an olive and ham loaf… that one was a fat no. You’d made different small cakes and tarts and while they all never went to waste; Luke never tried them. Every time you’d knock on the door with a small plate of whatever you’d made, he’d scowl, turning his nose up and then look back at his computer. It was disheartening.

But today was going to be a good day. You’d pulled your latest creation out of the oven, filling the kitchen with a sweet, homey scent. You couldn’t wait to try it. Immediately, you stuck your fork into it and then into your mouth. Despite the molten filling singing your taste buds, your eyes shut in pleasure. It was fucking delicious. Beaming down at your treat, you decided to cut Luke a slice of your very first ever, homemade cherry pie. You were so proud of it. The crumb had the perfect texture, the cherry filling had the perfect amount of tart to sweet ratio, and even the lattice was perfect, a little heart placed in the middle. You knew he was probably not going to want it, but you were going to try anyways.

After climbing the steps to where he was, you tapped against the wood of the doorway, plate and pie in hand as you smiled warmly, “Hi, honey. I made this cherry pie and it’s literally the most amazing thing I’ve ever made-”

“I don’t want any.” Luke says, cutting your sentence off. You falter a moment, but you know if he tried it, he would love it. He loves cherries.

“I think you should just have a bite! I’m telling you; you’ll like it.” You offer, stepping closer to him.

Luke sighs and you know he’s about to give you an earful, “I said I don’t want any of your damn pie,” He seethes, “You offer me everything you make, and have I accepted it once?”

Your cheeks heat up as tears prick your eyes and you kind of regret even trying to ask. You want to respond and yell back but you also don’t want to argue. You don’t know where your sweet, loving husband went and it hurts. Luke turns in his computer chair and his eyes are glazed with venom as he stares you down, “So, stop asking me. I don’t want them. You shouldn’t even be eating that shit anyways, you’re getting fat.”

Luke turns back to his computer and begins to click at the keys, clearly done with the conversation. You grip the plate in your hand, biting back the tears that threaten to spill as you go to leave the room. As soon as you step out of it, Luke shuts the door behind you. Your heart clenches in your chest as the tears fall. When did he become so cold? What had you done to make him do a 180 like this? How can you fix it? Or is it even fixable?

Questions swirl through your mind as you pad down the stairs, feeling small and wanting to coil into yourself but as you enter the kitchen, you notice Joel has stepped in. He sets the basket of a dozen or so eggs on the counter as he does every Tuesday. His eyes glance at the pie and then up to you, concern etching into his features.

Joel doesn’t want to ask what’s wrong, just cause you two still don’t know each other that well, but it’s like he can’t help himself.

“What’s’a matter, darlin’? Everythin’ okay?” He asks, eyes set tightly on your face.

Your brows knit together as you swallow back the burn of more tears in your throat and you nod, “Yeah, I’m okay. Don’t worry.” You say as you set the pie on the counter. Joel eyes it and he can feel his stomach begin to rumble. You notice his gaze on the pie, and you can’t help but smile. Letting out a breathy laugh, you allow yourself to relax a bit in his presence. He radiates this genuine aura, and you can’t help how it attracts you to him like a moth to a flame.

“You like pie?” You ask curiously.

Joel nods, “Yes, ma’am. Cherry is my second favorite, next to pecan, of course.”

Without hesitation, you push the plate over to Joel on the other side of the counter, “Help yourself. Luke doesn’t want it.”

Joels eyes widen in confusion, “How can a man deny a woman a slice of her homemade cherry pie? He on a diet or something?” He asks as he takes the plate and fork, diving right in. You shrug at his words, not caring anymore. You watch Joel’s reaction as he takes his first bite and it’s… something.

He chews for a moment, his eyes closing as his free hand grips the counter, “Damn…” He breathes. He goes in for another bite, bigger this time. You can feel your heart jumping at his reaction. He must like it.

“It taste okay?” You ask nervously, picking at your fingernails. He looks at you dumbfounded, like you’d asked him the silliest question in the world.

“Darlin’… does it taste okay? Have you tried it yet? Jesus, girl… best damn pie I have ever had.” He says quietly, stuffing more pie into his mouth.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and smile wider, “Don’t lie to me now, Joel.”

Joel shakes his head quickly, finishing off the big slice, his fork clanging against the plate. “Naw, I wouldn’t lie about a good pie. A damn good pie at that. I’d tell ya if it tasted anything less than decent.”

You can’t help the dumb grin on your face as he hypes your sweet treat up. It’d been a while since you got any sort of praise from anyone, and it felt nice. Your cheeks tinge with a dusty rose as you lean over, cutting the rest of the pie into slices. You save yourself one and hand Joel the rest. His eyes widen at the offer, taking the pie pan in his dirty palms.

“It’s yours. I’m really glad you enjoyed it, Joel. I’ve been baking up a storm this past month I’ve been here, and I’ve been the only one eating them. I don’t need a whole pie to myself. So, it’s all yours.” Your gaze is soft on Joel’s face, and it causes his chest to stir with something he’s not so sure of.

He clears his throat, looking back down at the delicacy he’s holding. “You sure ‘bout that? I don’t wanna be no pie thief just ‘cause you know I think it tastes good.”

A genuine laugh escapes your throat, causing his to restrict, “No, I don’t think you’re a pie thief. You’re really doing me a favor by taking it off my hands. I’m glad it’s going to someone who will enjoy it.”

Joel nods, gripping the pie pan in his hands as he looks down at it. He looks anywhere besides where you stand. “Well, ‘preciate it. You’re about as sweet as this pie is, I reckon. Luke’s got a good girl on his hands.”

Your shoulders fall as he mentions Luke and you know they shouldn’t. Even the thought of him right now fills you with intense sadness, but you push it away, nodding at his words. Joel clears his throat again, before finally looking back up to you, “Well, thank you, darlin’. I will enjoy every bit of this pie and bring the pan back when I’m done.” He turns to leave, but looks back for a moment, “And if you decide to ever try and make a pecan pie… you know where my door is.” He smiles, walking out the back door.

You find yourself reeling from the interaction and you try and convince yourself it was only because he loved your pie. It wasn’t the way his eyes closed as he savored his first taste, or the way he practically moaned in delight after every bite he took. And it definitely wasn’t the way he gripped the counter, the pie leaving him speechless, or the way you’d thought maybe that’s what his hands would look like gripped around your waist or thighs as he… your eyes widen at your thought process, and you run up the steps to jump in the shower, hoping to wash away the impure thoughts about a man who isn’t your husband. Even as you make an excuse for every thought that pops into your head about Joel, you can’t ignore the beat that drums between your legs, no matter how hard you try. No matter how hard you scrub at your skin, it’s like those images have been imprinted in your mind. Fuck.

After a long shower, a full skincare session and getting dressed in your comfiest jammies, you head back down to the kitchen to eat your slice of pie, only to be met with Luke eating it instead. His eyes wide as you walk in, mouth full of cherry filling.

“Baby, this… you outdid yourself. This is fucking good.” Luke says, a soft smile on his face. Your stomach churns as he speaks, and usually you’d be happy he was finally giving you attention. But not this time. Instead, you were pissed he ate your only slice of pie.

“Did you eat the rest of it? I need another slice. I’d skip dinner for that.” He says as he nearly runs to the fridge, searching for the remainder of the pie.

“I gave it to Joel. He brought in the eggs and said it was one of his favorites. I didn’t think you’d want it since you know, you said you didn’t.”

Luke sighs, “You gave it to Joel? The whole pie? You know I love cherries, why the hell would you do that?”

Your eyes widen in disbelief, anger filling your body. “Luke, you said yourself you didn’t want any. I didn’t want it to go to waste and that slice you just ate was mine. You didn’t even ask!”

Luke rolls his eyes, slamming the door of the fridge, “I don’t need to ask you what I can and can’t eat. Make another pie.” He says as he walks past you, mumbling something about how he can’t believe you’d give another man something before him. He was unbelievable. You grab the plate he’d left on the counter and toss it into the sink, not caring if it breaks or not. You breathe out from your nose as you rest your palms against the cool marble counters, your jaw clenched tight as your foot taps against the tile. You don’t know how much longer you can take this attitude of his.

Deciding you need a distraction; you head down to Joel’s. His door is shut, but his porch light is on. That doesn’t deter you though. As you walk on to the creaky wooden porch and knock, you can feel your anger dissipate from your body. The distance from Luke was good.

Joel opens the door only a moment later, his eyes confused but his mouth upturned into a smile. “Hey, darlin’, what are you doin’ here?”

“Do you have any more pie?” You ask. Your question takes him off guard, but he nods, stepping aside to let you in.

“I got a few slices left. Gotta be honest with you; I had one or two more when I got back in an hour ago.” He says sheepishly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. You turn to face him, your eyes looking into his. Joel feels his chest fill with that same thing he felt earlier. Something he still couldn’t place.

“Luke ate mine. I… I really wanted a slice, but I gave you the rest. He’s mad at me ‘cause I gave it to you.” You say as your shoulders fall. Joel laughs, his eyes crinkling at the sight of your slight pout. He thought it was cute.

“Mad, huh? Over a pie? Can’t say I blame him though. It is pretty damn good.” Joel heads into another room for a moment, which you assume is the kitchen because he comes back to the living room with a big slice of your cherry pie in one hand and a glass of milk in the other. “Sit.” he says, nodding to his couch.

You sit in the same spot you sat in the last time you were here, resting back against the cushions as Joel places the food on a TV tray and sets it in front of you. The little action has your heart racing. Something as simple as getting served a slice of pie sends your heart into a tizzy and you sigh, digging into the dessert. It was damn good.

Joel sits in his rocking chair, just like last time, but doesn’t say anything. He lets you eat in silence and once you’re done, he takes care of it too.

You don’t want to leave yet, and as you pull your knees up to your chest, you hope he doesn’t ask you to. Joel returns a moment later, a glass of water for you and a glass of that same amber liquid for him. He smiles, handing you the glass, “You look comfy.”

Your cheeks tint a shade of pink, and you take the glass from him, “I am comfy. This couch is nice.”

“Hope so. I’ve had it for probably 15-20 years. It’s well-loved for sure.” Joel says, sitting back in his rocking chair and sighing. Your eyebrows quirk as you rest your cheek against your knees.

“Man, you’ve really been here for a long time then, huh?”

Joel nods, looking at you getting comfy on his couch. There goes that feeling he can’t place. “Yeah, ‘bout 25 years at this point. I was 25 at the time I started here actually. Karla didn’t even own the place yet, it was her daddy’s. Once he passed, she took over and I stayed. She tried to convince me to stay, but she didn’t have to do that. This was my home at that point too.” He pauses, sipping his drink. “She was a good friend. Wasn’t too much older than me.” You listen intently as Joel speaks, not knowing any of this.

You nod, “Wow, I had no clue. Karla seemed like a good woman.”

“She was. Had her issues as we all do. But I enjoyed her company. But… here I am 25 years later. No kids, no wife. Just all these damn cows and chickens and horses. Don’t tell Estrella I said that.” Joel says, mentioning one of the cows in the barn. You laugh, telling him a quick ‘of course not’.

A comfortable silence falls between you two for a while. It’s only then you notice that Joel’s record player is going, playing some soft country song in the background. You breathe out, your eyes growing heavy. Your mind drifts back to Joel’s words. No wife, no kids. He’s been alone the last 25 years?

“So… You said you don’t have a wife or any kids? Any particular reason?” As you ask this, regret fills your body. It’s probably a sensitive subject for Joel. God, you are such an idiot-

“Not really. Just… never found the time.” Oh.

You nod again as he speaks, waiting for him to continue. “I wanted to at one point. It’s kinda hard to date when the only people around you are a lesbian or… furry. Don’t get me wrong… I’d find myself up at Jimmy’s old bar and maybe meet a girl, take her home for the night… but it never went further. You kinda lose track of time after a while. Then 25 years pass and you’re pushin’ 50 and it’s like… damn. Where’d the time go?”

Your heart breaks as you hear his words, but you can also understand. Time does move quickly and if you don’t pay attention, you lose it.

“Hmm… well, don’t give up hope. You never know what could happen.” You say with a soft smile. Joel laughs again and you can’t say that you hate it. It’s nice.

“What?” You laugh along with him, “You don’t know what could happen! You could always try a dating site. They have that farmers only website which might be really good for you.”

This makes Joel laugh louder, “Sweetheart… a dating website? I don’t even have a smartphone, how do you think I’d manage that? And while it’s nice you got this sort of hope for me; I don’t mind being alone. Easier this way.” He trails off, both of your laughs dying down. You stare at Joel for a long time. Every fiber of your being screams to touch him or hug him… kiss him. There’s something about him that makes you just long for him. To take care of him. To show him what it’s like to be loved.

You try and pull yourself from your thoughts and as you go to say something, you hear your name being called from the house. Luke. Your eyes close as your stomach drops, not wanting to face reality. You sigh as you stand up and stretch, smiling anxiously at Joel who stands with you. He looks into your eyes, his sad, deep baby browns piercing at you and it takes your breath away. Not realizing it, you reach for him. You pull him against your body as you hug him. He freezes in your embrace, not sure if he should hug you back. But after a moment of contemplation, he throws caution to the wind and wraps his arms around you, holding you tight against him like he didn’t want you to go away. Like he wanted to keep you here with him. Safe in his arms.

The hug was too brief for your liking. Joel steps back first, holding you at arm's length in front of him. Luke calls your name again and you groan. You look up to Joel once more and smile. “Thank you for the nice conversation today… and the pie. I really did outdo myself, huh?”

Joel smiles back and nods, “Darlin, you put your whole damn foot into it. I can’t wait to eat another slice tomorrow. Or before bed. Who knows.”

You laugh before stepping towards the door, casting Joel a quick look and then heading back up to the house.

You feel so light and giddy from the conversation with Joel, you don’t even mind the scowl on Luke’s face as you reach the porch. “Why were you at Joel’s?” He asks, following you through the back door to the kitchen.

“I had a piece of pie. Since someone ate mine.” You reply, taking your shoes off.

Luke rolls his eyes, “Jesus, cry me a river. So glad you’re so close with that old man that he’d spare a piece of his precious cherry pie for you. I mean, fuck. He’s probably loving the attention he’s getting from you. Half his age and conventionally pretty. I’m sure he’s eating that up.”

This makes you snap.

“And so, what if he is?! God forbid someone feels good from getting some attention. We’re just talking either way, so I don’t know why this is such an issue for you. It’s not like you talk to me anymore anyways.” You seethe as tears begin to well. You sigh in frustration, hating how emotional you get when angered. Luke’s eyes soften and his shoulders fall.

“No, you’re right.” He says, causing your eyes to widen. “I’ve been neglecting you. I’ve been so stressed with work; I’ve lost sight of what’s important to me and that’s you, baby.” He continues. You feel something flutter in your chest, but you can’t tell if it’s hope or disgust.

Luke approaches you slowly, wrapping his arms around your frame as he lowers himself to your height. He peppers your face in kisses and while you don’t stop him, you don’t necessarily enjoy it. “Baby… I’m so sorry. You can forgive me, right? I swear I’ll change my ways. I’m gonna get out earlier, help make dinner and clean up then I can hold my sexy wife on the couch while we watch that trashy TV show you like. Just like we used to in the city. That sound okay?” He smiles, looking into your eyes.

You avoid his gaze for a moment before deciding to look. You can feel your heart begin to soften for him again, even if it’s slight. Which leads you to nod, causing him to break into a huge smile.

“Thank you, my love. I don’t deserve you.” He says, leaning in to kiss your lips. His kisses are rushed and urgent and his lips are chapped but too wet. You try to ignore it as his hands slide down your waist to your ass, squeezing the pajama covered flesh. You hum against his lips as your brows knit but Luke takes this as a sign to go further. You don’t have the heart to tell him no.

He leads you upstairs to your shared bed, taking your comfy pajamas off and placing you against the mattress. The next 20 minutes are filled with over-the-top grunting and touches that are too rough and once he finishes, not caring if you did or not, you roll over and force yourself to sleep. Your mind races with thoughts of Joel. His chocolate eyes, his pouty bottom lip and the way his fucking body felt against yours this evening. It was a hug. A hug! And that one instance had you nearly foaming at the mouth for more. You don’t try to push your thoughts away this time. In fact, you welcome them. And after a while, your body begins to relax enough to finally drift off.

The next few weeks are filled with much of the same. Luke’s promise to change falls through, of course. The only thing that does change is his desire for you. It’s like all he wants to do is touch you and it drives you insane. You thank God you’re on birth control, because if you were to get pregnant with his child right now… you don’t know what you’d do. Probably keel over and wait for death.

Joel is one of the only things getting you through the days. You bake a new treat almost every day, not even bothering to ask Luke if he wants to try them anymore. Instead, you take them straight to Joel. His reactions never fail to amaze you. Cinnamon bread topped with streusel? 10/10, no complaints. Jalapeno cheddar sourdough? Sent from God himself. Pumpkin cinnamon rolls with homemade cream cheese frosting? Crafted by the hands of the divines, infused with holy nectar. And he acted that way. He was visceral in the way his body reacted to the desserts and baked goods and the pride it filled you with was something else entirely. His groans of pleasure, the way he’d lean over just slightly. The way he’d look at you and you’d swear his pupils would dilate. It just… did something to you.

It was your routine. Wake up, make something delicious, go to Joel’s and eat and talk for a while, then head home before Luke gets done with work and pretend to be a happy wife. It was exhausting in that sense. You think you were happy in some way, but not because of your husband.

You don’t even know when the dynamic changed. Maybe it was when Luke’s busy season started. And busy he was. He’d even have to go into the office for a few days at a time and since it was so out of the way, he’d just get a hotel room in the city. You found yourself looking forward to his time away from the farm. Away from you. The days where you got to be you, and where you got to pretend you weren’t tied to this piece of shit husband. Where maybe you were single and enjoying the company of a man who seemed to be genuinely interested in you.

You found yourself doing other things for Joel besides giving him sweet treats here and there. Some days you’d get up when that rooster would crow and brew a pot of coffee, bringing it to him in a thermos as Fall came in full force. Or there were days where you’d pack him a lunch and bring it to the barn or stable and even eat with him while he tended to the horses, cows and chickens. You liked it. No, you loved it. You loved the simplicity of spending time with him. He was grateful for everything you said and did, and he showed that back.

Dryer crapped out on you? Joel can fix it. Pipe burst in the kitchen sink? No worries, Joel has it. The leg on your favorite dining chair is loose? Hell, Joel would probably build you a whole new set for the table.

You two were close. And when you say close, you meant it. You talked about everything under the sun. Your hopes and dreams, your fears, even the totally irrational ones. You remember laughing until you nearly peed your pants when you found out Joel was scared of mushrooms. He defended himself by saying how they grow from decay and that’s what freaked him out the most. Plus, they tasted bad. You couldn’t argue with that. You hated mushrooms too.

He never judged you and you never judged him. It was refreshing. Easy.

It was day two of three that Luke was supposed to be away for work, and you were living the high life. You slept like a rock in your shared bed, getting to actually sleep in the middle of the king-sized mattress and not tucked away into the corner, trying not to touch him. When you thought about it, it was pretty sad because when did you grow to not want your husband anymore? But you’d save those thoughts for another morning. Today was your day.

You got up at 6 am, right on the dot when that Rooster crowed, a smile on your face and spring in your step. It was peaceful getting up so early and you’d grown to love it. As you padded down the steps in the morning darkness, the sun still yet to rise, you couldn’t help but feel the excitement of getting to hand Joel his morning coffee you were about to brew him. The way his eyes would crinkle as his hand would brush against yours as you pass him the thermos. Or his low, country drawl as he’d say “Thank you, darlin’. Much obliged.”

You knew thoughts like this while married weren’t great and you did have some sort of guilt but with the way Luke had been acting over the last few months, you honestly didn’t care that much.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the kitchen as you filled the thermos to the brim. No cream, no sugar. Black. Extra strong. Just how Joel liked it. You closed the container, setting it on the counter before heading back upstairs to change for the cold morning and then you were on your way down the hill to Joel’s house.

His front porch light wasn’t on, which was out of the ordinary, but you knocked anyways. After waiting a few moments and no response, you decided to peek through the window only to be met with nothing. No lights turned on and the house was seemingly empty. Your shoulders slumped as you wondered where he could have been.

You walked around the property, checking the stables, the chicken coop, and there was no sign of him there. Last place to check was the barn which maybe you should have checked first, but oh well. Once you reached the weathered building, you pushed the doors open, noting a light on towards the far wall on the right. “Joel?” You called out.

You heard rustling as he stepped on the hay on the barn floor and shortly after, he appeared from the pen he was sitting in. His face lit up at the sight of you causing your breath to hitch and your stomach to flip. You matched his smile and walked towards him, meeting him halfway into the barn.

“Mornin’ darlin’. This for me?” Joel asks, pointing to the thermos.

“You know it is. Black coffee delivery for Joel.” You say with a playful smile, lifting the thermos up for him to grab. His grin widens, taking it from you. Your usual brush of the hands sends electric currents to every nerve ending in your body.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Much obliged. You always make my mornin’ coffee perfectly. Like my own lil’ star-biz or somethin’.” He says, opening the tin up and taking a big sip. You laugh at the mispronunciation but you don’t have the heart to correct him. That damn blush was clear as day. It seems to tint your cheeks permanently these days.

“God, I miss Star… biz... Overpriced. But you haven’t lived until you’ve had an iced peppermint tea and their pumpkin pepita loaf.” You say with a playful smile.

Joel rolls his eyes as he opens the thermos and sips it, “Pepita? They’re just making up words at this point.”

“Joel, a pepita is a pumpkin seed.” You grin. Joel feels that familiar bloom in his chest and he sighs as his cheeks grow hot. He mumbles something about how he knew that and how he was just trying to be funny, but you know better. Joel shuts the thermos and takes in your face for a moment. The way your eyelashes brush against your cheeks as you close your eyes to giggle and shake your head at him nearly makes him dizzy. He clears his throat, time moving normally again as he grabs your hand and pulls you to the back of the barn. “C’mere, wanna show you somethin’.”

Now, it’s your turn for your face to burn. Your heart races as his hand grips yours tightly and you’re not sure what to expect. But when he pulls you into the pen, and you see Estrella laying there, you settle down.

Joel drops your hand and squats down next to her, rubbing her back softly. The way he’s so incredibly gentle makes you smile. You squat next to him, following his hand and petting her too. “She’s so soft… been here on this farm for a few months now and this is the first time I’m really getting to pet her.”

Joel smiles too, his eyes watching your hand. “Better be soft with that damn $60 shampoo I use on her.” Joel pauses, moving back to the wood bench against the barn wall. “She’s about to give birth. Probably in a couple hours ‘er so.” He says, rubbing his tired eyes.

You look at Joel in surprise, “What? I didn’t even know she was expecting. Did you tell Luke?”

Joel nods, “Mhm. Told him when y’all got to the farm. Not surprising he didn’t say anything though. Not like he takes care of the animals. Or… anything around here.”

It’s true. Luke didn’t take care of anything around here like he told his family he would. And well, neither did you, but in some sort of way, you liked to think you took care of Joel. Luke took care of the bills though, for the most part. He paid… the electric bill, you think? The rest was pretty much paid for thanks to the house having been paid off decades ago. You sigh, deciding to sit next to Joel on the bench.

“Sorry… we’re bad farm owners, aren’t we?” You ask. Joel closes his eyes and smiles, breathing out a breathy laugh and you can’t help but smile too.

“Maybe a little. But that’s okay. ‘Least you’re pretty. Real nice to look at and such.” He slips, his brows shooting up into his hairline as he flushes.

You almost miss it. You almost miss him calling you pretty until it reregisters in your mind, and you swear you can hear your heart pounding in your ears. You don’t say anything for a good moment, not knowing what to say. Silence fills the barn, despite the sound of Estrella breathing heavily through her labor pains. Or maybe those were yours.

It’s like your body ignites, and you desperately want Joel to touch you. You don’t have the energy to fight the guilty thoughts of how you shouldn’t be thinking these things about another man that isn’t your husband. You don’t care anymore. But that doesn’t mean you’re going to act on it. You nod slowly, still not sure what to say, but you know if you don’t put some distance between the two of you; you’re gonna break.

You stand and wipe your sweaty palms on your leggings before turning at Joel and smiling softly. “I’m… I’m gonna head inside for a bit, get some laundry done. Let me know if you need any help with Estrella, okay?” You don’t wait for Joel to respond as you head towards the barn’s entrance. Desperate to get away, you pick your steps up, but Joel has other plans. You only get halfway across the barn before he grabs your hand once more and you don’t pull away.

You utter his name softly, and Joel can’t help the way it makes his heart race and his pants tighten. Your fingers feel smooth against his rough, calloused ones and he squeezes them slightly. His breath’s come in heaves and you find yours to be matching. You’re terrified to turn around, but his other hand touches your hip, urging you to face him. So, you do.

“Joel…” You say again and it’s like music to his ears. His big hand grips at your waist desperately, like he doesn’t want you to leave. Like you’ll disappear. His other hand drops your own and finds solace on the other side of your waist. His gaze is intense, but you don’t dare look away now.

“’M sorry.” He says, causing your brows to knit.

“Why?”

“For callin’ you pretty.” He speaks. You can tell he’s nervous. You can tell by the slight twitch in his hands as his fingers fight the urge to dig into your skin. Or the way his voice trembles. It makes you want him to take you right here and now.

“Why would you be sorry about that?” You ask, finding yourself slipping closer and closer into him.

“Shouldn’t be callin’ a married woman pretty. Shouldn’t be touchin’ her like this neither.” Joels hands squeeze again slightly, and you practically moan. Your lips part as that familiar ache continues to build between your legs and you don’t know how much more you can take.

“Well,” You begin, debating your next words carefully, “Maybe a married woman shouldn’t be letting a man that’s not her husband call her pretty or touch her like this… but here we are.”

Joel’s lips quirk up softly, pulling you closer to him. His firm chest presses against your breasts and the close vicinity begins to drive you crazy. You take a slow and steady breath, trying to calm your nerves but then one of Joel’s hands leaves your waist and runs up your neck to your cheek. Your eyes don’t drift from one another’s, but it doesn’t make you feel small. Not like how you’d feel under Luke’s gaze. You feel empowered. Like Joel actually wants you. Because he does.

Joel’s chest rises and falls as his hands caress your jaw, his thumb padding over the delicate skin of your cheek. You instinctively lean into it, pressing against his palm as your eyes close. Joel fights every urge to lean in and kiss you, but he won’t yet. You haven’t given him the okay.

Your hand comes up, gripping around his wrist as you hold his hand to you. You don’t want him to move it. He wasn’t going to anyway. Your eyes flutter open and see the desire written all over Joel’s face. A small puff of air escapes your mouth, and you pout.

“We shouldn’t be doing this, huh?” You ask, your voice tiny and worried.

Joel sighs too, blinking a couple of times. “No, probably not. Shouldn’t be touchin’ you like this, but, Jesus… don’t know if I can stop.” He pauses for a moment and when you don’t say anything and you don’t move, he speaks again. “Please… tell me to stop.”

Your heart lurches in your chest and you suddenly lose the ability to speak so you just shake your head instead. Your other hand rises to meet Joel’s neck, and you pull him in closer to you. You feel his breath on your lips and it smells like coffee. You catch yourself relaxing as your eyes trail down to Joel’s mouth. You’ve never wanted to kiss someone as bad as you do him.

“Please… baby girl… tell me to stop.” He asks again and you shake your head once more, this time words find you. Well, word.

“No.” Is all you say and Joel practically groans. His hand on your hip pulls your body flush against him, fully pressed against his frame. Your eyes widen as you feel his length press against your leg and your breath catches in your throat.

“Gonna tell me to stop, now?”

You gulp.

“… No.”

Joel nods as he realizes this is happening. He leans in closer, “Okay. Can I… kiss you?”

Your eyes widen only slightly as you think it over. You want him to kiss you more than anything but once you do, it’s over. The line will have been crossed. You’ll be a cheater. But the way he’s looking at you, and the way he’s asked so nicely… you couldn’t say no.

“Yes.” You breathe.

“Okay.” He mumbles, wasting no time to press his lips against yours.

Joel is an intense man, and his kisses are no different. His movements are desperate and hungry, like he’s a man starved. He probably is. It’s been so long since he’s felt the touch of a woman. But you don’t mind it. In fact, you welcome it. He kisses you with such need it takes away and oxygen in your lungs. Like he’s been thinking about doing this forever. Maybe he has, you don’t know.

Your arms wrap around his neck as his hand at your waist holds you still, the one on your jaw trails down to your hip. He guides you backwards, your back meeting the wall of the tattered barn. You’re trapped between the two, but you have no time to think about that. You think about how perfect his lips feel against your own and how smoothly they move with yours. How natural. You don’t realize the tiny whimpers that escape your lips until Joel pulls back, grunting softly.

“Baby girl… fuckin’ hell. Those sweet noises you’re makin’ are gonna drive me crazy.” He huffs against your lips, making sure he’s not away from them for too long.

Your tongues tangle and your mind goes blank. You taste the bitter black coffee on him and it becomes addicting. You don’t even like coffee. Your head spins and reels and you find yourself slipping which you don’t mind. Joel could fuck you on this dirty barn floor and you’d thank him as you picked the hay out of your hair later. But he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t like you slipping away from him. He parts your legs with his knee, his thigh resting between them so he can prop you up. So you can’t go anywhere.

His fingers glide under your sweater, seeking the warmth of your skin. He trails his cold digits up your tummy until they reach your bra. But he doesn’t go any higher than that. The chill of his hands leaves a wake of goose bumps, causing your nipples to harden and you’re practically moaning at this point. He’s barely even touched you.

“Please… Joel, please.” You beg. “Please, fucking touch me.”

Joel keels over slightly, pressing you against the wall even harder. “Fuck… want me to touch you, baby? Where? Tell me.”

“Anywhere.” You rasp, feeling more desperate than he is at this point.

Joel laughs softly, “Uh-uh… gotta be more specific.” His fingers trail further down, tracing random shapes around your navel.

You groan, feeling helpless. You want him everywhere. You want his fingers in your mouth, or his mouth on your breasts, or his cock stuffed inside you. Fucking anything.

Joel smirks again, raising his knee up higher until he hits your core. The small bump of his thigh against your clothed pussy pulls another whimper from you and it sparks something inside Joel. “Like that, darlin’? Like when your cunt rubs up against my thigh like that?”

Words fail you again and you nod, your hips instinctively bucking against it.

“That’s it… usin’ me like that. Makin’ yourself feel good for me. Let me see you move, pretty girl.”

Joel steadies you as you begin to rock your hips against his thigh. You ignore the way your panties stick to you and the way your leggings are just soaked at this point. You’re sure if you were to look down at Joel’s jeans, you’d see evidence of it all there too.

He moves his hands again, trailing one back up to your bra and slipping underneath it. He grabs at your breasts, his grip needy and clumsy. It brings you back to reality for a moment as you giggle. “Joel… calm down. I’m not going anywhere.”

Joel’s face reddens and he slows his movements, his thumb padding over your hard nipple. “Sorry, baby girl… It’s just…” He sighs, leaning down and kissing your lips again. It’s soft and sweet and all too quick. “It’s just I don’t know if I’ll ever get this opportunity again. Don’t know if I’ll ever get to touch you like this. Like I been wantin’.”

Your heart swells as you look up to Joel, a goofy smile plastered on to your face. “Like you’ve been wanting? And how long has that been?” You ask, pulling him back down to you to smooch his lips. He sighs, closing his eyes and savoring your affection.

“Since the night you showed up to mine in that silk nightgown of yours.” Joel mumbles against your mouth, pecking you slowly and languidly. It’s almost disorienting as he does it over and over again. Finally, after a moment he stops. “You looked so fuckin’ beautiful that night. Sweaty, nervous, lil’ irritated. I wanted to kiss your lips as soon as you sat on that couch of mine. But I needed to kiss you the moment I saw them big alligator tears wellin’ up in your eyes when I sang you that George Jones song. Never seen someone so pretty cryin’ like that.” He utters, nuzzling his nose against yours.

You can’t speak. You feel like all the air has whooshed out of your lungs as you look into Joel’s eyes. They’re dilated. His eyes are usually dark but they’re almost black at this point. Your arms stay firmly planted around Joel’s neck, fingers lacing through the soft curls at the bottom. He’s nervous again. You don’t want him to be.

“Joel… you telling me you want to do this again then?” You ask, pressing a tiny kiss to the tip of his nose. He closes his eyes and sighs.

“Baby… I want to do this and so much more with you. I want whatever you want to give to me.” Another peck to your lips. “As long as it’s with you, I want it.”

“Well, what do you want right now?”

“I want to make you come.”

Your eyes widen slightly at his words, mouth going dry. His hand on your hip urges you to start moving again. To start fucking yourself against his thigh. You listen.

Your hands trail from his neck to the front of his jacket, gathering the fabric in your fists as you hold him close. Your hips start to buck once Joel pushes his knee up to the perfect height, his thigh settled in between your folds. You begin to rock back and forth, the lack of distance between you two causing the most delicious friction. Your clit presses against the fabric, and you moan softly, whimpering his name and you swear it’s like he’s heard the voice of God himself.

“Fuckin’ music to my ears. Best song I’ve ever fuckin’ heard. Don’t stop. Keep goin’, my sweet girl.” Joel says, leaning down to tangle his tongue with yours again. You moan into his mouth, your hips bucking faster as you chase that high that’s embarrassingly close. But the way he’s talking to you, the way he’s touching you so intimately, and the way your clit is pressed perfectly up against his thigh, you never stood much of a chance to begin with.

“Joel…” You whisper, your voice shaking.

“I know, baby, I know. I got you. Fuck…” He hushes back. This is clearly affecting him too. You look down at where your bodies connect and sure enough, the leg of his jeans is soaked, but to the right, just where his groin sits, another wet patch is forming. It’s small, but it’s there. Your breath catches as your head falls back slightly, allowing Joel’s lips to attach themselves to your neck. He tongues the skin up and down your pulse point, not daring to leave a mark. Yet.

“Taste so good. Bet the rest of you tastes even better. Fuck, I’m gonna be addicted. Already am.” Joel’s words push you closer and closer, your hips rocking back and forth quicker. Pretty little whimpers fall from your tongue as your fists ball tighter against his jacket. Joel moans too, his grunts getting louder, more animalistic.

“Joel, ‘m gonna… gonna come.” You manage to get out. Joel’s hand on your hip reaches around to the small of your back, coaxing you to ride faster, harder. His other hand drops from your bra, pulling your head to his so he can kiss you through it.

“Go ahead, baby. Come for me. Fuck-” Joel mumbles against your lips, swallowing the little noises you make. He’s acting like he’s not too far behind as well. You’re not even touching him and he’s on the verge of coming. Just by making you come.

With your hips moving just a few more times, the coil in the pit of your stomach begins to snap, your eyes shutting tightly as you see white, hot lightning behind them.

“God. Oh, fuck. Joel…” You murmur, your head falling forward to bury your face in his chest. But he doesn’t allow that. Joel grabs your hair from the back and tugs it softly, wanting to see your face as you come.

“That’s it. My pretty girl, holy fuck. Ah, shit…” He grunts, his breath stuttering as his own head leans into your neck. His grip on your hair and waist becomes a vice, holding you to him as you think he finishes in his pants.

You breathe heavily, coming down from your high as you pull back, Joel’s grip on you lessening. His face is beat red, and he can’t meet your gaze.

“Joel, did you- did you…?” You ask cautiously, eyes shining with amazement.

Joel grunts again, one of his hands coming up to wipe his brow. “Shit, yeah. I did.” His gaze finally meets yours and you break into a grin, letting out a breathy laugh. He smiles with you, “Got me feelin’ like a damn teenage boy over here. Can’t believe I did that.”

You shake your head, still smiling. “Don’t go feeling embarrassed on me, Joel. That was… the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” Your words are quiet, but you mean them. Eyes trailing down to where the small wet spot on his crotch used to be, now a bigger patch. You can’t help but run your fingers over it. Joel groans softly, leaning slightly into you from how sensitive he still is.

“Baby girl… watch it.” He stumbles, his breath picking back up.

You smile, “Waste it was in your pants… should have been inside my mouth. Or my pussy.” You don’t know where your confidence comes from. Maybe it’s because you made a grown man come in his pants just by watching you come on his thigh. But, nonetheless, you’re feeling good.

Your fingers continue to tease the wet spot on his groin, and you find yourself wanting to taste him. No, needing to taste him. Joel catches on to your thought process and even though he feels like he might pass out with how badly he needs you; he pushes through.

“Wanna taste, darlin’?” He hushes; lips pressed to your jaw. You nod.

“Please, Joel?” You ask in a small voice, the desire in it setting him alight.

It causes Joel to almost whimper, and he pulls back. His thigh drops from between your legs and the wet spot that’s accumulated on your leggings goes cold. You shiver slightly, missing his heat against you. Joel watches you for a moment before sighing. He wants to continue. He wants to fuck you in this barn and make you his, filling your sweet pussy up with his seed. Maybe knock you up so you can never leave him. Joel knows that’s not an option, but fuck, does he wish. He knows needs to cool it down a bit.

“You should head inside, take a shower er somethin’.” He speaks. Your brows knit together, shoulders falling slightly. You don’t want to leave his side. You don’t want this moment to end.

“I’ll be in in a bit. Don’t wanna be away from you for too long.” Your heart races at his words as he steps closer, placing his hands on either side of your cheeks. He leans down, kissing you deeply. It takes your breath away. It’s nothing like you’ve ever felt before, and it scares you. You can absolutely see yourself becoming addicted to this. You probably already are.

“Go to mine. Shower there. I’m gonna check on Estrella and then I’ll be in, okay? Won’t be away too long.” He says, backing up. You nod, muttering a quiet okay.

As you walk out of the barn, casting one last glance in his direction, he smiles. Your throat restricts and you march on forth to his little house on the property. All thoughts of Luke and your marriage are gone. As far as you were concerned, you were Joel’s. If he wanted you, that is. But you had an inkling there was a very good chance that was the case.

You reached Joel’s home and let yourself inside. It was funny to you he said to shower here when your house was only up the hill. But you weren’t going to deny him that. Plus, this was a good chance to look around the place. You’d only seen the living room which is crazy cause you were here often. You walked through the entrance, taking in the familiar plaid covered couch and the record player towards on the opposite side of it. Many mornings were spent here with Joel just chatting and laughing, listening to his collection of different records. Most of them were older county artists but you knew Joel was partial to 90’s alternative like Pearl Jam and Foo Fighters. Which surprised you, but it also made complete sense.

Stepping forward, the door off to the left of the entrance was slightly open. Curiosity piqued so you glanced in. His bedroom. Your eyes widened slightly, opening the door a bit more as you gazed around the neat room. His bed was the only thing unkempt. No clothes littered the ground, his self-care items which consisted of a jar of lotion, deodorant and probably a 15-year-old bottle of cologne were aligned neatly on the dresser. You smiled to yourself, shutting the door as you continued your trek to the bathroom. The hallway only had two doors and one opening which led to the kitchen. You assumed the one at the end of the hallway was a closet and upon opening it, you were right. So, the room next to it was the bathroom. You grabbed a towel and on you went.

Pale teal tile floor with weathered white walls. The tub was a weird shade of green which seemed to be a common theme among the property. Must have been Karla’s favorite color. It was small and cozy, like the rest of the house, and it filled you with comfort you hadn’t felt in months. You were in Joel’s space and it all just felt so him. You really could get used to it all.

Pulling back the translucent white shower curtain, you noted Joel had actual shampoo and conditioner and not a 3-In-1 like Luke used. Fuck, he even had body wash. You smile again and turn the hot water on before pulling the drain to let the shower run. It felt so good to strip out of your wet leggings and the rest of your clothes and it felt even better stepping into the steaming shower. Near scalding water cascaded down your back and you hummed in delight, letting it soak your skin. This was nice.

As you reached for the shampoo, deciding it was best to get the barn smell off you, you hadn’t noticed someone stepping into the bathroom with you. As you hummed to yourself, lathering the tea tree scented shampoo, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. Your eyes widened as you jumped with a yelp, turning slightly. Of course it was Joel.

“Joel! Jesus, you scared me.” You breathed.

Joel smiles, “Sorry darlin’. You were too busy hummin’ and using up all my shampoo to notice. This uh, this okay?” He says, nodding between the two of you. You nod back.

“Yeah, yeah… ‘course it is.” Realization sets in that you’re naked in the shower with Joel right now. Yeah, he’d made you come on his thigh in the barn, but this was a whole new level. Joel notices your nerves and he kisses your shoulder.

“Don’t gotta do nothin’, sweetheart. Just wanna be by you.” He speaks.

Your heart melts and you nod, relaxing into his touch. You turn in his arms and breathe out a laugh, “Want me to wash your hair?”

Joel’s eyes widen slightly, and he pauses before nodding. “Okay, go ahead.”

His arms fall from around your waist, but he doesn’t stop touching you. His hands linger around your hips and tummy, fingertips grazing the soft skin like he’s addicted. He is.

You reach for the shampoo, squirting a little in your hands and lathering them until they’re sudsy. Joel dips his head under the water, wetting his hair and you reach up, rubbing it through. It’s intimate in the way his eyes close, his hand planting against you, holding himself still. You can’t help but look down and see he’s hard, but he doesn’t make it a big deal. You wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t looked.

“Okay, let’s rinse you.” You hum softly.

He leans forward, the water flowing on to him as the shampoo falls into the drain. You wash it until the water runs clear and then wipe his face so when he opens his eyes, he doesn’t get anything in them. Your heart pounds at how personal this is; how close he is.

You take in every detail on his face, like his little sun freckles and his deep-set lines in the corners of his eyes. He has long eyelashes that droplets kiss and you feel like you’re in a daze. He has a scar on his nose and the most kissable bottom lip and the most wonderful facial hair-

“Darlin’?” Joel says, eyes locked on to yours, “You okay?”

Your eyes widen and you can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips before blowing a raspberry, “Oops, you caught me. You’re so pretty I got caught up.”

Joel laughs and trails his hand up your waist, right under the swell of your breast, “Pretty? First time I’ve heard that one, I think. Not nearly pretty as you are, though.” He grins.

Your eyes roll, “So cheesy.”

“Yeah, I know you like it. Can’t deny it by the cute lil’ blush of yours. You always look so damn happy to see me.” Joel says, his other hand cupping your jaw as he looks into your eyes.

You swallow harshly, unable to look away. “That’s because I am always happy to see you. I like you.”

“I like you too,” He breathes, causing your heartbeat to stop in your chest and start somewhere else, “A whole lot.”

Silence fills the bathroom despite the sound of the water that’s now going cold. Joel’s thumb caresses your bottom lip for a moment, and you think he’s going to kiss you.

“Let’s finish up. Water’s growin’ cold on us. I wanna get you all warm and snuggled up.”

“In your bed?” You ask, eyes wide.

“Yes. In my bed.”

“Okay.”

You heart reignites as the beat in your pussy quickens. Joel’s hands roam your body, lathering both of you in the sea salt scented body wash before rinsing you off and stepping out of the shower. He wraps you in the plush gray towel after drying your hair a bit. You don’t have to do anything. It’s… surreal. You’ve never had this kind of care and attention.

You follow behind Joel shyly, almost intimidated by the intimacy of it all. Both of you are towel wrapped and damp as you step into Joel’s room. He switches the bed side lamp on and you hug the towel closer to you as you watch Joel move to rummage through his drawers. He grabs you a big shirt and a pair of his boxers, slipping on some himself. All this is done in silence, and it scares you how comfortable it is. How natural.

You walk over to the bed, getting dressed in Joel’s clothes as you sit on the edge, waiting for him to do anything. To say anything. He doesn’t for a while.

Finally, Joel turns to face you, a small smile on his face. “What ya so quiet for?”

You shrug, biting back the grin that fights through. “I dunno… I’m a little nervous I guess.”

Joel’s eyebrow quirks, nodding slowly. He makes his way next to you and sits on the edge of the bed. The mattress dips and you look over to his face. He’s just so fucking handsome.

“Well… what do you think you’re nervous about? Luke finding out?” He asks, his voice gentle.

You shrug again, “Maybe. But that wasn’t my first thought.”

Joel’s eyebrows knit together, “Then what was?”

A long sigh escapes your mouth, and you look away for a moment before looking back, “Why does this all feel so natural with you?”

“What do you mean?”

You sigh again, “I mean… we just showered together, and you were hard the entire time, but you didn’t even kiss me. You dried my hair and my arms and legs when we got out and then wrapped me in a towel. You gave me your clothes to wear to get comfy in bed with you and neither one of us batted an eye at how smoothly it flowed. It’s… weird”

“It’s weird?” He asks, reiterating your words.

“Well, not weird. But also, it kinda is. I’ve… I guess I’ve just never had that, so I don’t know how to react.” You say nervously. You decide to keep your eyes away from Joel as everything begins to feel too much.

He nods, humming softly, “So, you’ve never took a shower with Luke before?”

“I have, of course. But it’s always involved sex. It’s never washing each other's bodies and not even kissing. You touched my ass only to wipe the soap off it.” You say humorously.

Joel laughs, “What, did you want me to leave it there?”

Your eyes roll and you shake your head. “That’s not the point. Why is it so easy with you?”

Joel’s eyes soften and he shakes his head himself. He looks at you in your body, clad with his white fruit-of-the-loom t-shirt and faded red boxers and he shrugs. “Don’t know, darlin’. I really don’t.” He leans in as he sees your shoulders fall and he brushes some of your damp hair behind your ear. “Not everything needs to make sense. Or needs to be made sense of. Sometimes it’s just how it is.”

He leans in and presses a chaste kiss under your ear and two more along your jaw. Your eyes close as you breathe out, savoring his touch. His lips trail down to your chin and along your neck before pecking their way back up. Before his lips can meet yours, you speak. “Are we bad people?”

“No.” he says, no hesitation in his voice as he kisses the corner of your mouth.

“But Joel-”

“But nothin’,” Joel says pulling back slightly, “You are not a bad person for not being in love with your husband. He’s… He doesn’t treat you well, baby girl. There’s been so many nights I’ve heard him hollerin’ about things to you from all the way down the hill. He’s distant, he doesn’t give you the attention you deserve, and he’s a fuckin’ child in a man's body. You hear me?” He huffs, sitting back up and running a hand through his hair. He looks back down to you, your gaze still anywhere but him.

It’s silent for a while, this time less comfortable. Joel breathes in, his chest tightening with nerves. “Leave him.” He speaks. Your eyes widen and you stare at him for a long time, mouth open in shock. Leave him? What?

“Joel, you don’t know what you’re asking.” You say, he scoffs.

“Yes, I do. Leave Luke.” He rebuts.

“And what? Be with you?”

“Yes. Would that be so bad?”

Your eyes widen again, and tears brim your lash line, “No. It wouldn’t be.”

Joel’s lips form a thin line, “Then leave him.”

You sigh, your eyes closing. You can’t leave Luke. Where would you go? You have nothing without him. You don’t have a job, you don’t have a car, you’re in the middle of nowhere. Luke wouldn’t sign the divorce papers too, you’re sure of it. He’d throw a fit and then convince you to stay and you’d give in, living out the rest of your days unhappy with a man you can’t stand.

You stand up, a single tear rolling down your cheek. Joel panics and grabs your hand, holding you from going anywhere. His chest tightens and his eyes widen. You can’t go. Not yet anyways. He just got you.

“Baby, please… Please. Stay with me. Just for now.” The desperation in his voice is palpable and you falter immediately.

“I wasn’t going to leave, I just… I needed to do something. I’m anxious.” You say, your body twisting to face him.

Joel stares at you, his grip on your hand unrelenting. The way your eyebrows are tense in the middle has him anxious too. He pulls you to him with this gentleness that makes your body cave. You find yourself on his lap, hands on his chest as he holds you to him. Your eyes linger on your hands and then the expanse of his torso. He doesn’t have a shirt on, and you hate how distracting it is. How wonderful the hair that litters his skin feels against your palms. The swell of his pecks and how soft yet firm they are. His heartbeat in his chest that’s going two hundred miles per hour and how you find yours to be matching.

Joel brings one of his hands up to your head, moving the hair from your face.

“Look at me,” He breathes. His tone is light and almost like a whisper, “Please, my pretty girl.”

“Your pretty girl?” You ask, gaze meeting his. The corners of his eyes crinkle slightly as he grins.

“Yes. I don’t care what you say, darlin’. I don’t care if you leave Luke or stay with him. You’re mine and I… I reckon you’ve been mine for a long time now.”

Your eyes close and you nod, leaning your head on Joel’s shoulder. He’s right. It’s been a few months of you and Joel getting to know each other better but every day you find yourself slipping more. It was only a matter of time before this happened. Before both of you fell completely.

It was crazy to you. Yeah, you felt guilty for it in the beginning. Guilty for the way you’d go to bed and dream of how you’d get to see Joel the next morning. Guilty for the way you’d wake up early and make coffee for another man while your husband slept peacefully, oblivious to your feelings. Only kind of guilty for the times Joel would be busy, and you couldn’t bother him. So, you’d slip into your bedroom and touch yourself to the memories of his voice and laugh and the way he looked at you; the way he’d hug you before heading out to do his duties. But never guilty for how intoxicating you found him to be. How addicted you found yourself to be.

“Yeah… I think so too. Guess you’ve been mine for a while too?” You ask, your nose prodding his collarbone softly. He smiles, his hand on your waist trailing to your ass and squeezing it slightly, pulling you closer.

“Been yours longer than you been mine, that’s for sure. I wanted you that first night you guys got here. Looked so fuckin’ pretty.” He mumbles, turning his head into your hair. He could live here like this forever and be happy. He’d never asked for anything, never want for nothing. Just being with you here on this farm. He was convinced that’s what heaven looked like.

“Joel…” You whimper at his words, one of your hands trails up to his neck as your lips find it too. You press them against his skin, eliciting a hiss from him. His hand grips your ass harder, spreading your cheeks slightly.

“Yeah, baby girl? Feelin’ needy?” He asks, burying his face into the side of your head. You open your mouth, tongue snaking out to taste him. You want to mark him, have him wear your sigil around the farm. Not like anyone would see. Luke probably wouldn’t even notice.

Your lips plant themselves around his skin, sucking slightly and nipping at it. Joel’s breath catches in his throat, and he stutters, “Jesus fuck- darlin'. What do you think you’re doin’?” he asks, eyes shut as he leans his head back, granting you better access.

You hum, continuing your assault against his neck. Below you, Joel’s cock grows, poking against your thigh. You place open-mouthed kisses, and little love bites up to his jaw before pulling back to look at your work. You grin, eyeing all the small red marks beginning to darken. Joel shakes his head smiling, dilated eyes locked on yours. “Better hope your no-good husband don’t see these.”

You smile back, “He won’t. He’s too fucking oblivious. He doesn’t even know his wife is in their bed touchin’ herself to another man every night.”

This knocks the wind out of Joel’s lungs completely, his eyes widen, and you think he might actually black out for a second. You steady him with a small grin, shaking his head a little. “You okay?”

It takes Joel another couple seconds to respond, blinking back his glazed over eyes, “Oblivious to what, darlin’? To his wife doin’… what?”

You laugh, leaning down to peck the tip of Joel’s nose, “You heard me, Miller.”

“I don’t think I did, pretty girl. Think you should say it again so I can make sure I heard correctly.” He says, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you flush against his erection. Your walls part, feeling the hardened length against your core through his boxers.

You can’t think straight as the sensation of Joel gently rocking his hips upward sends you feral. Your grip on him tightens, “I-I said… Luke is too fucking oblivious to the fact that I’m touching myself to the thought of you every night. I make myself come every night to the thought of you and what it would be like for you to fuck me. How it would be to have your cock stuffed inside me. That clear enough for you?”

Joel huffs, his cock twitching against your heat, “Clear as crystal, baby girl.” His lips connect to yours and it takes your breath away. You’ve said it before, but Joel is just so intense. His kiss is powerful and full of force and it’s utterly intoxicating. You don’t want it to end, but Joel pulls back.

“Wanna know somethin’?” He asks. You nod. “You know how many times I’ve touched myself in the last few months to you?”

Your eyes widen as you bite back a smirk, deciding to relax more into his touch. You place your weight on his lap, his cock bumping your folds in a way that makes him groan. “Yeah? You been touching yourself to me too, Joel?”

“Yeah. Touched myself that first night you came here. When I say you looked so fuckin’ pretty cryin’ like that… I meant it. You went back up the hill and I sat right there in my chair. Couldn’t get out of my jeans fuckin’ fast enough. You got no idea the effect you have on me, do you?” Joel says, nuzzling his nose against yours pecking your lips in sequence a couple times.

You feel drunk. That’s the best way you could put it. You felt drunk on Joel’s needy hands and sinful words, and you’d be damned if you didn’t keep on drinking.

You gulp, “Why don’t… why don’t you show me just how much I affect you then.”

Joel looks into your eyes, looking for any reservations but he sees none. He feels a lump in his throat form, and he really doesn’t want this to end. A part of him wishes Luke would just not come back. That’d he stay far away and leave this farm and you to him. He takes care of both better than anyone else could, especially that poor excuse of a man. Joel wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he wouldn’t mind if Luke just up and died. That way he could never interfere again. As far as Joel was concerned the farm was his, and so were you. It made sense to him. Just as the sun comes up in the morning and sets at night. You were Joel’s and he was yours.

“Show you? Want me to show you how much I want you? How much I fuckin’ need you, sweet girl?” He asks, voice dripping with lust. You nod, words failing you. Seemed to be a common theme around him.

Joel smiles, “Okay, my baby. My pretty girl. You’re mine, aren’t you, darlin’?”

You shudder out a breath, his possessive words going straight to your core, “Joel, yes. I’m yours.”

Joels grip tightens and has you grind down against his cock that’s so painfully hard, “Only mine? No one else?”

You moan, a real moan and it has Joel reeling. “Only fucking yours. Please, Joel… I need you.”

“That’s all you had to say.” He says as he stands up, pushing you off his lap. You shiver from the lack of heat, but he turns to you and nods to the bed, “up against the headboard.”

You listen immediately, nearly stumbling to get on to the bed. Joel follows you, settling in next to you. He covers your bodies with the comforter, and your eyebrows knit together. You watch him fluff up his pillow and then lay against it, sighing as he closes his eyes. What?

“Uh, Joel? What… Are you doing?” You ask.

“Hm? Takin’ a nap. I’ve been up since four in the morning, darlin’. Ol’ Joel’s tired.” He says, eyes closing again.

You laugh, “What? But what about-”

“In a couple hours, we’ll get up. I'll check on Estrella, come back here, and I’ll make you dinner. Then after it’s all said and done, I’ll fuck you. Real good too.”

Your breath catches and you nod, “Okay.”

Joel extends his arm to you, and you lean into him. You place your head on his chest, his arm wrapping around you and holding you to him tightly. He didn’t want you to go anywhere. You weren’t going to.

It was crazy to you how quickly you fell asleep. As soon as Joel started to rub the skin on your forearm and his breathing began to even out, you were knocked. It was a quick nap, probably only an hour instead of the couple he promised. But you didn’t mind. Just meant you were closer to him fucking you.

Joel wakes up first, breathing out heavily as he moves from under you, trying so very carefully not to wake you up. But as soon as you felt the lack of body heat, you were wide awake.

“Where are you going?” You mumble, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Joel smiles, slipping on his jeans and a shirt.

“Goin’ to check on Estrella. She should be havin’ that calf any moment at this point.” He leans down and kisses your temple and then your cheek and then your lips. You exhale, loving the affection. You kiss him back, humming against him.

“Let me go with you.” Your words are quiet as you feel yourself fighting sleep, your body slumping into Joel’s bed. You couldn’t help it. You were surrounded by his scent and the lingering warmth from his side of the bed. It was all so nice. So Joel.

He chuckles, “Nah, baby girl. Get some more rest. I’ll be back in a bit, okay? My pretty girl needs her beauty sleep.”

You feel your lips quirk up softly, yawning a quick ‘okay’ before nodding back off.

It’s another few hours before your body decides it’s time to get up. As you sit up in Joel’s bed, noticing the sun going down, you hear pots and pans clanging around in the kitchen. You decide to try and gather your bearings and go check it out. The walk down his hallway is short, but you can hear him mumbling something to himself and it has you smiling. Joel is placing a pan onto the stove when he sees you from the corner of his eye. He smiles, “Mornin’, darlin. Bout time you woke up.”

You yawn, stretching slightly, “I know. I’ve been sleeping all day. I have no clue why I’m so exhausted.” You make your way over to Joel who’s lighting the burner on the stove. You wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle into him, still feeling the lingering effects of your long nap. Joel chuckles, kissing the top of your head.

“Still sleepy, baby? I guess that’s what good orgasms do to ya, huh?” He teases you. You can feel your face flush as your mind travels back to your time with Joel in the barn and you smirk.

“Guess so. Wouldn’t know. Never had one until then.” You say as Joel moves from you to the fridge, inspecting it for ingredients.

“That so? Well… Looks like I’m gonna have to keep ‘em coming.” He smirks. His eyes scan the content of the fridge and there really isn’t much. He clears his throat. “So, I know I promised you dinner. But I haven’t been able to head up to the market for a bit. I could probably throw together some omelets. Cheese and… bacon? Everythin’ else is in the freezer. It’d take too long to dethaw at this point.” Joel speaks, picking up a paper sack of what he thinks is the bacon.

You watch him raid his fridge and then you clear your throat as the lightbulb in your head goes off. “That doesn’t sound too bad. But think I have a better idea.”

Joel looks over to you, shutting the fridge before crossing his arms, “Oh yeah? What do ya got in mind?”

“I went up to Leo’s market the other day. They were having a special. Buy two get one free. So, I got a pack of almonds cause they’re my favorite. I got a pack of macadamia nuts for cookies and a pack of pecans for your pie. The one you requested forever ago.”

Joel’s eyes widen and his face breaks out into a grin, “Dessert for dinner, huh?”

You shrug, “I think it’s a good time to make it. You can help me. Ever made a pie before?”

He shakes his head, “Can’t say I have, sugar. But I think I have the perfect person to teach me.”

You roll your eyes playfully, before heading towards the front door and slipping your boots on. Joel follows you.

“I’ll be right back. Just gonna go up to the house and grab the stuff.”

He nods, offering help but you tell him you’ll be fine. You head up the hill and in through the back door of the main house before scouring the kitchen for all the ingredients. It’s smells like Luke in here and it makes you queasy. You pause to take a breath. You’d really forgotten about your husband just like that. Like he was so easy to forget despite being married to him for a couple years now. You rest your palms against the counter and clear your throat as your mind just as easily drifts back to thoughts of Joel. How he’s waiting for you just down the hill. How he looks at you and how you feel around him. How he makes you feel. Happy. Safe. Satisfied. Loved. And once again, Luke is gone from your mind.

You step back from the counter and move around the kitchen, grabbing a plastic bag and packing it with flour, sugar, corn syrup, cream, butter, and vanilla.

Soon enough, you’re back in the kitchen with Joel, laying out all the ingredients and getting to work. You start on the crust, combining the flour and butter into a crumbly dough and then let it rest for a bit in the fridge while you start on the filling. Joel helps you measure out the sugar, cream, and corn syrup while you crack the eggs into the bowl. You work together seamlessly, and he follows your instructions to a T. You bite your lip in concentration as you mix the pecans into the filling, folding them in delicately.

Joel watches in admiration, his eyes grazing over your face and then your body which is covered with his clothing. His. It makes his chest swell with affection and he can’t help himself from leaning over and kissing you.

The kiss takes you by surprise, but you return it immediately. You hum against his lips and place your hand on his cheek. His lips move with yours for a moment and he pulls away first, leaving you in a daze. “So fuckin’ pretty.” He hushes; his eyes still closed. You lean in and press another kiss to his bottom lip and he smiles.

“Okay, let’s finish this damn pie.” You speak. Your body feels light and fluttery almost. It’s like you don’t know how to handle all of this. All of this affection. It’s like it’s too much. But also not enough.

Joel nods, getting up to get the pie dough from the fridge. He watches you roll the crust out, cutting it to fit the pie tin, and then pour the filling into it. He watches you make a little heart made out of pecans on the top before popping it into the oven and it’s all so wonderful to him.

Joel’s never really minded being alone. He stayed busy. He had so much to do on the farm every day he really didn’t have time to think that maybe life would be better spending it with someone else. He had the animals, and at one point he had Karla. Sure, he still had those nights from time to time where he craved the heat from another body in his bed. Or maybe when his fist just wasn’t enough and he needed that slick, wet heat his hand couldn’t offer him.

But now, as he watches you move around his kitchen, baking him his favorite pie, doing the dishes, he can’t imagine it any other way. He knows he’s in too deep. You’re a married woman and he knows that, it’s just he’s fought his feelings for a long time and now? He doesn’t give a damn. He wants you. He’s convinced he needs you. If you were to leave him to go back to that piece of shit husband, he doesn’t know what it’d do to him.

Joel stands from the small dining table in the kitchen and makes his way to you. You’re stood at his sink, scrubbing at the dishes you used for the pie. He comes up from behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder. Your heart races at the action and you breathe out a small, “Hi.”

“Hi.” He says back simply, his eyes closing.

You peek at him from the corner of your eye and smile, “Feeling sleepy?”

He nods, “‘Lil bit. Was stressin’ over Estrella but she finally got that calf out. Both of ‘em are resting now.” Joel presses tiny kisses against your neck, and you sigh, savoring them.

“That’s good they’re both okay. I want to see the baby.” You say, turning off the water and turning in his arms to face him.

“You can. We can go see ‘em tomorrow morning. That sound okay to you?”

You shake your head yes, looking into Joel’s eyes, “Sounds fine to me.”

The smell of fresh baked pecan pie wafts through the kitchen and your eyes light up. “I think the pies done. Shall we take a look?” You ask.

“We shall.” Joel counters with his country twang and you giggle.

He opens the oven and you slip on the mitt before pulling the pie out and setting it on top of the stove. “Now we have to let it cool.”

Joel sighs impatiently, “Let it cool? We can’t cut into it now?”

“No, I mean, unless you want hot pecan sugar soup. It has to firm up!” You say, turning the oven off.

Joel groans playfully and you shake your head, “You can wait twenty more minutes, okay?”

He rolls his eyes but nods, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’ve been waitin’ months anyways so what’s another twenty minutes?”

“Exactly.”

Joel moves to the sink to finish up washing the dishes while you poke and prod at the pie making sure it firms up okay. And after cleaning the kitchen, putting away the ingredients into Joel’s cabinets, and a little make out session, twenty minutes have already passed.

You pull back from Joel, his lips following yours as he isn’t quite ready to stop yet. You hush against his mouth, “Joel… you know what time it is?”

“Hmm, time for me to keep kissin’ you?” He asks, pressing his lips to yours again.

You hum, pushing him back, “Pie time.”

Joel’s eyebrows raise, “‘Fuckin’ finally.”

The two of you gather around the stove as you stick your knife into the pie and cut it into 8 big, individual slices. You take Joel’s plate and serve him first then dish up yours as well. Once back at the table you wait for him to take a bite, anticipating his reaction as nerves settle in your tummy. It’s his favorite pie so this is a big deal.

Joel sticks his fork into his slice and then into his mouth. You watch him closely as he chews a few times, anxiety creeping from your tummy to your neck. But then, his eyes close and you swear you hear him moan.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ.” He utters, his mouth still full of the pie.

Your eyes light up and you smile, “Is it good?”

Joel looks at you from the corner of his eyes and then back down to his plate, immediately shoving another bite into his mouth. He doesn’t say anything. Even when his first slice is gone and even when he finishes another one. He goes for a third and you stop him, grabbing his wrist gently.

“Joel, baby… calm down. Your pie isn’t going anywhere.” You laugh.

Joel clears his throat, a hint of red on his cheeks, “I know, darlin’. But you think that cherry pie’a yours was good? This could win contests.”

Your eyes roll and you shake your head, “You’re just saying that. You always hype my food up. It can’t all be good!

Joel looks at you incredulously, “It can’t all be good? Are you kiddin’ me? You haven’t made a bad thing yet. But this? I might need one a week. Maybe two.”

You laugh, finally taking a bite of your own slice. You were too entranced by his display of gluttony to even try it yet. But fuck, once you had a taste, you knew he was right. Your eyes fluttered shut as you savored the nuttiness from the pecans and the caramelized sugar, “Okay, you’re right. This is better than the cherry pie.”

“Pecan is always better than cherry. But you know what would taste even better?” He asks.

Your eyebrows knit together as you take another bite of pie and look at Joel, “Hmm?”

“You.”

You choke on your bite of food and look up at him, smiling as a blush creeps onto your cheeks. Joel smirks, pushing his plate aside and leaning over the table to look at you. You lock eyes for a moment, unspoken longing simmering between the both of you and without words, you both stand up. Joel grabs your hand again and pulls you back down the hallway to his room. That nervous feeling settles in the pit of your stomach again, but you push it away. Images of Luke flash in your mind from before; when he loved you. When you loved him. It was almost annoying at this point. Why did you keep thinking of him? It’d been weeks if not months you had any sort of romantic feeling for him and while you supposed some guilt still did linger, you absolutely didn’t mind the way your body thrummed with desire for Joel.

Joel doesn’t bother shutting the door behind him. It’s not like anyone’s gonna hear anything or walk in on you, which at this point, you didn’t really care if they did. After this day of touches and kisses and teasing, you needed all of him.

Your body shook with nerves and adrenaline as you stepped in to Joel’s room with him. It was really going to happen. You were going to fuck this man you’d be pining for for months. Joel on the other hand, was calm and collected. He walked over to his bed, peeling back the covers before stripping himself of his shirt and unbuttoning his jeans. As he pulled the zipper down, he looked up to you, a soft smile on his lips.

“Gonna get in bed?” He asks, nonchalantly as all hell.

You twiddle your fingers as you sway from one foot to another, “I dunno. Do you want me to?”

Joel looks at you and rolls his eyes, “Darlin’…” he begins, but you cut him off.

“You gonna fuck me?”

Joel’s smile drops ever so slightly, thinking of what to say next. But it comes back as quickly as it disappears. “Gonna be disappointed if I don’t?”

You bite your lip and shrug slightly. Joel laughs, “I’ll take that as a yes then. Come ‘ere. It’s been too long since I’ve touched you.”

“You were holding my hand like maybe 2 minutes ago.” You grin softly, climbing into bed with him. His arms wrap around you, pulling you on top of him. He grunts in satisfaction as your body weight settles on his lower tummy, hands planted firmly at your hips. His thumbs rub tiny circles into your skin as he pushes your shirt over your head, exposing your bare breasts to the cold air in the room. Your nipples harden instantly and your lips part, a short puff of air escaping them. Joel’s eyes dilate as he rakes them over your skin, his hands inching up your torso until they meet the swell of your breasts.

“So fuckin’ pretty… can’t believe you want me.” He mumbles.

You scoff, a smile on your face, “What do you mean by that?”

Joels thumbs pad over your hardened nipple, causing your cunt to throb. Your hands plant themselves against Joel’s chest, your fingertips weaving between the hair that litters it.

“What I mean is… I’m old enough to be your daddy, but maybe you’re into that. Maybe you like the idea of being with an old fucker like me.”

Your eyes roll, “Yeah, that must be it. I have an old man fetish.” You shake your head and laugh, a smile on his lips as well, “But no, Joel. I think it’s actually the fact that I think you’re amazing. You are so sweet, and kind and I don’t think you realize that. I think you have this idea of yourself that you’re this rough around the edges, loner type but you aren’t. I’ve never had someone be so gentle with me. It makes perfect sense as to why I’ve fallen so hard for you.”

Joel’s fingers stop as he stares at you for a long while. Suddenly, he sits up, holding your body close to him. His arms wrap around your frame, pulling you flush against his chest as his eyes don’t leave yours. “Please… be with me.” He speaks, throat bobbing as he swallows thickly.

Your heart stills, “I am, Joel. I’m with you right now.”

“No, you know what I mean.” And you do. You absolutely know what he means. He wants you to leave Luke and be his. You want to. So desperately.

“Joel-”

“No, don’t give me that. You don’t love Luke. He doesn’t treat you well. Don’t you think being with me would be better?” He asks, his voice quiet, like he’s nervous.

“It would. It would be so much better, Joel-”

“Then leave him and be with me-” He interrupts.

“Please don’t interrupt me. I deal with enough of that from my husband.” You say in frustration, trying to pull back from him but he doesn’t let you go.

“Don’t pull away from me. You don’t have to be defensive with me. I’m sorry I interrupted you. I won’t do it again, I just… I want you, in every capacity. I want to wake up next to you, have you make me coffee every mornin’ just like you do now. I want to listen to my records with you and have you show me that Gilman Girls show you talk about all the time.” He says and you laugh softly.

“Gilmore Girls, Joel.”

“Yeah, that one. I want to have dinner with you and do the dishes together, then climb into bed so I can hold you, kiss you… so I can make love to you, and we don’t have to worry about anythin’ else. Just us.”

Your heart races and you feel tears spring to your eyes, the longing he feels for you blooming in your chest tenfold. Joel is infinitely better than Luke. In every way. He’s attentive and thoughtful and so kind it makes you lightheaded. Life here on the farm with Joel might not be so bad. You actually might enjoy it. You know you would. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind. But would you be willing to give up everything for him? You sigh, and without another beat; you speak.

“Okay.” You say, wiping a tear from your cheek. “Okay. I’ll leave Luke.”

Joel’s eyes widen and his shoulders rise and fall with the deep breaths he forces himself to take, “My sweet girl… you will?”

You nod, “Yes. I want all of that with you. I want to wake up at 5am and help you with the chickens and tend to Estrella and her calf. I want to make you treats and fatten you up with them,” Joel smiles and you do too, “I want to lay in bed with you and talk about nonsense and touch you and love you and be with you. I want to be yours, Joel. Not Luke’s. Yours.”

Joel can hear the blood rushing in his ears and he feels like he might actually combust on the spot. His heart races and he closes in on you. “Then that’s what’s gonna happen, darlin’. Just us. Just you. Just me.” Joel hushes, his lips pressing against yours.

You move with him and somehow end up with your back pressed against his plush mattress. Joel begins to remove the boxers he’d given you to wear earlier as you reach for the his jeans, pushing them down his hips fully.

“I want you.” You mumble against his lips.

“You have me, my girl.” He whispers back.

Once out of his jeans, Joel shimmies out of his boxers, leaving you both lying there naked. It’s scary how real it is. Joel is going to fuck you. You’re married and you don’t care. In your mind, your relationship with Luke has been dead for a long time. You don’t have an ounce of emotion in your body for him anymore and with ease, you forget about him once again.

Your attention switches back to Joel so naturally; so fluidly. His cock presses its head against your thigh. He’s so painfully hard you have no idea how he’s restraining himself.

“Need to be inside you, baby… but fuck, I wanna take my time with you.” He utters, his tone dripping with lust. His lips trail from yours to your jaw to your neck, not caring if he leaves marks or not. You’re leaving Luke. You’re his and he’s going to let the world know.

He moves further down, his tongue snaking in between the valley of your breasts and lower to your navel. He sucks at the skin on your tummy, marking you there as well. Another annoying blip of Luke flashes through your mind and how if he saw these marks on your body, it’d be over. It’s over anyways. Those thoughts go as quickly as they came when you realize Joel has buried his nose in the small tufts of hair that litters your skin down there. He’s like a mad man at work, huffing his way down to your folds and breathing in.

“Good God, sweet girl. Need’a taste so bad. Smell so fuckin’ divine I could lose it right now.” He speaks as his nose prods against your opening, his rough fingers meeting your walls to spread them open. His tongue dips in, licking against the swollen bud and it has you seeing stars. Your fingers lace into his hair as you keen into his ministrations, angling your hips up to his mouth.

His name litters the air as it stumbles out of your mouth over and over, like a mantra. Your whimpers of pleasure urges Joel to get more into it, sucking and flicking his tongue against your clit. His finger trails down, slipping into your soaked cunt as he begins to pump two of them in and out slowly.

“So fuckin’ wet, baby… taste like heaven.” He mumbles, his lips wrapping right back around your bud. Your brows tense as Joel curls his finger, hitting the soft spot in your pussy. Your fingers pull his hair tighter, your mouth opening as you moan silently, your orgasm embarrassingly close. He was so fucking good at this.

“Joel… fuck-Joel.”

“I know, baby, I know. I can feel you clenching around my fingers baby girl, go on and let go for me.” He hushes out, his warm breath only adding fuel to the fire. Joel’s expert tongue swirls and presses like he’s dotting his I’s and crossing his T’s and after a few more strokes of his fingers, you can’t hold back anymore.

“Fuck, I’m coming, Jo- Fuck!” You hiss through your teeth as your hands release the grip on his head and find solace on his bed sheets. Wave after wave hits you and you feel like you can’t even breathe. You try and it’s like it’s stuck in your chest. Joel doesn’t back down either, his tongue, lips and fingers all working away like he’s possessed. He’s addicted to your taste, and he’ll never give it up.

Your body begins to recoil away with overstimulation and once you whimper his name, he comes to. His head peeks up from between your legs and he smiles, his beard damp and cheeks glistening with your slick. It makes your heart skip a beat. He leans his head to your thigh and kisses it, breathing heavily himself.

Joel makes his way up your body, letting his weight down on top of you and it feels like bliss. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck as you pull him to you. Your lips meet his as he lets your taste yourself on him, his tongue tangling with yours like it was with your clit only moments ago. He’s still hard, probably even more so as you feel it press into your still-sensitive core. His tip begins to slide between your folds, and you spread your legs wider. Joel smiles into the kiss before pulling back.

“Ready for me, baby?” He asks with such softness you can’t believe how lucky you are to be here with him right now. You nod, your eyes opening to meet his. You want to watch him as he enters you.

His gaze is tender and full of what you think could be love. You didn’t want to jump the gun and say that it was, but… if he said it to you, you might just say it back. His hand caresses your cheek as he watches you intently, like he’s dazed. You turn your head into his palm, kissing the rough skin. No words are said, and none need to be. Joel lets out a deep breath as his hand tucks some of your hair behind your ear before trailing it down to your leg and guiding it to wrap around his. His cock slips into you ever so slightly and your breath hitches.

“Please, Joel… I need you… need more.” You speak; your voice hoarse. Joel smiles, leaning down and pecking your lips once more. He nods, words failing to find him now. He looks back into your eyes and pushes his hips forward. His cock sinks into you so deliciously it has you stunned. The way the girth stretches you out feels like you were made to take it. You were made for Joel; you were sure of it.

Joel, on the other hand, was a mess. When this whole thing started, he was so calm, like he’d planned this forever. Maybe he had. He didn’t dare close his eyes, not wanting to miss a second of this as he pushed in further. Soft grunts escape him as he bottoms out and then holds it there, letting the both of you adjust.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice shaky.

You nod, “I’m perfect.”

He nods back, pulling his hips back all the way before pushing them back in. He begins to find a steady rhythm, rocking against your body and that’s when you allow your eyes to close. One of his hands meets the pillow next to your head and he moves quicker. Grunts and moans slip from him which surprise you; you didn’t expect him to be so vocal. You’re right behind him though, his name being moaned into the ether as yours drips from his mouth. He’s already close, you can tell. But he’s trying to hold on as long as he can. He wants to savor this. He’s scared he won’t get this opportunity again.

Joel pulls his cock out of you, his chest rising and falling as he steadies himself. You look up to him, confused as to why he’s stopped. Maybe he’s regretting it. Maybe he feels guilty for it all. You sit up on your elbows, eyebrows knit tight.

“Joel, everything okay?”

He wipes his face and nods, “Yeah, baby… on your knees for me.”

Your eyes widen and you immediately turn around, gathering yourself on to your hands and knees to which Joel groans. He grabs your hips, pulling you against him and you feel his hard cock rut into your behind slightly. Joel brings a hand down to your ass, the smack echoing in the dimly lit room as you hum in delight.

“Gonna fuck you good, sweet girl. ‘Member I promised that?” He says, guiding his cock back into your slick. You breathe out, arms faltering slightly as you try and hold yourself up for him.

Joel smacks your ass again, “I said, remember? Use your words, pretty girl.”

“Yes, I remember.” You hiss, your pussy gripping around his length like a vice.

“Fuck- r-remember what? What did I tell you I was gonna do?” Another smack, your cheeks branded with his handprint.

“Ah, Joel-fuck! You-you said you were going to fuck me good. Please… do it. Fuck me.” You beg, your tone dripping with desperation. Joel smiles and kneads the skin he’d been rough with as he begins to pump in and out again.

“Good girl.”

He grabs your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he moves. He pumps into you over and over and you can’t think straight. Your arms give out not even two minutes into it and your head buries itself in his pillows. Joel doesn’t care; he just grips you tighter to make sure you don’t get too far away.

“That’s it, you’re takin’ it so fuckin’ good, baby. So good. So… mine. All mine, right?” He moans, his voice rough.

You don’t respond, too busy focusing on his cock that stretches your pussy out. Focused on the way he seems to hit that one spot in your cunt over and over. He takes his hand to your ass again, this time smacking it but grabbing a fist full afterwards.

“I said, right?”

“Yes, Joel, all yours! Only fucking yours.”

It’s like music to Joel’s ears as he wraps his arm around your waist and pulling your back against his torso. His hips never stop, even as you both adjust to the new position, his left hand reaching up to your breast to squeeze and his right flying down to your clit, rubbing quick circles. He wants you to come with him and he’s ridiculously close, but so were you.

“Shit, baby,” He heaves, “‘M gonna cum, gonna fill you up. That okay?” He asks through his rough grunting.

You nod immediately, not minding any implications, “Fuck, yes, Joel. Please. Please fuckin’ finish inside me.” Your orgasm teeters the edge as his fingers and cock assault your core, seconds from overflowing.

Hearing you beg Joel to finish inside you is all he needed to let go. Both of you cry out in pleasure as you feel Joel’s hot seed coat your walls. He fucks it further into you, no sign of him pulling out, but you didn’t want him to. Your body ignites as your own orgasm hits, your pussy clenching around Joel’s cock, milking him dry. You’ve never felt this sort of electric current spread through your veins, this liquid fire working its way to every point of your body and it’s just too much.

Finally, after a few more moments of Joel thrusting; his hand on your clit seizes its movements and he pulls out. Your head falls back on to his shoulder as you try to catch your breath, body completely spent. You feel his touch graze over you skin as he trails them up to your breasts and back down your tummy, like he’s trying to map every inch of your body to his memory. He’s so scared he’s going to lose you, and you can tell. His lips ghost over your neck and shoulders and back, while his hands palm at your skin.

“Joel, settle down.” You giggle; your eyes still closed in euphoria.

He sighs, “Sorry, Darlin’. I’m just… I’m just feelin’ you is all.”

“I know you are and that’s okay. But we’re going to do this again, you know? Again, and again, and again.” You say with a smile as you turn to face him again. You can feel his seed begin to leak out of you and you clench, wanting to keep it inside.

“You sure?” Joel asks, his body hovering yours as you lay on your back.

You nod; eyes heavy with exhaustion even if you’d napped most of the day. Joel relaxes slightly, easing his body down to lay on yours and it has you reeling.

“I love this feeling. You on me. Us. All of it.” Your words come out in a mumble and Joel smiles, kissing your chin and then your cheeks.

“I know. Me too.” He hums, his lips lingering over your skin as he ghosts more kisses across your face. He pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath. “So, how are we…? How are you… ya know, gonna tell Luke?”

You pause for a long time. Each second that passes has Joel’s heart racing quicker and harder. What if you’d changed your mind?

Another pause and a breath; you speak. “I… don’t know.”

Joel doesn’t move. He just lays there on top of you and lets you think a while. “How do I tell my husband I want a divorce?”

“You go up to him and say ‘Luke. I want a divorce.’” Joel says plainly and you let out a breathy laugh.

“Is it really that simple?” You ask, your eyes meeting his.

He pauses this time, his eyes dilating as he gazes upon your face. “No. It isn’t.”

You nod, eyelids closing. “I know.”

“But we’ll figure it out. Okay? No way in hell am I ever lettin’ you go now. I’ll fight Luke for you.” He speaks. You laugh again but you know he’s serious. He would fight Luke. He’d win too.

“That won’t be necessary… but I’d fight him too.” This time Joel laughs and leans down, nuzzling his head into your neck and wrapping his arms around your frame. You’ve never felt so safe. So loved.

You don’t know when you fall asleep, but it happens. Your body melds into Joel’s and the both of you lull into a deep sleep. You don’t wake up until late morning the next day. Joel’s already out of bed, probably somewhere on the farm doing his duties. You sit up, the blankets pooling around your waist when you look over to the clock on Joel’s bedside table. It’s a quarter passed 10 already. You decide to get up, getting dressed in Joel’s shirt from yesterday and a pair of his sweats. You see an old sweater in his drawers too and you figured you’d help yourself. It is getting chilly outside after all. Plus, you had the inkling Joel was the type to like you in his clothes anyways.

After slipping on your shoes, you decided to head to the barn. He was more than likely there, considering Estrella was in active labor yesterday. The cold air nipped your nose as you hugged yourself, crossing the yard to the barn. It was open, the overhead light flipped on. You could hear humming from Joel in the distance and you smiled.

It was warmer in the barn. Joel turned the space heater on for the calf and for the mama.

“Joel?” You called out, waiting for his response.

He peeks his head around the corner, his eyes wide as he smiles to you. He steps from behind the wall, wiping his hands on a rag that he slings over his shoulder. Heat pools in your tummy as he approaches you, the simple gesture turning you on.

“Hi, darlin’. Everything okay?” He asks. You nod. “Sleep okay?”

You nod again. “Best sleep I think I’ve ever had. I was so warm and cozy.”

Joel smiles, wrapping his arms around your waist, “Yeah? Me too. And to think… we’re gonna be sleepin’ like that from here on out, huh?”

You feel your stomach coil in a way that makes you nervous. It’s excitement, but it’s nerve-wracking. You’re really going to have to tell Luke it’s over. Your mind swims with different ideas of ways to break it to him. Maybe you could tell him you’re actually not interested in men anymore. Yeah, that could work. The good ol’ lesbian switcheroo. Or maybe you could tell him you’re dying. You could fake your death and just never have to confront what’s really going on. You could never tell him you’re in love with another man. With someone he’s known since he was a child. You sigh as you realize you just need to tell him you’re unhappy. That you don’t want this anymore… that you don’t want him. Maybe you could even leave Joel out of it. Just tell him you’re done, that you want to go back to the city. Luke would. He wouldn’t stay here. That way you could sneak back and live with Joel. But that was a longshot.

Joel notices your silence and he nudges you slightly, “Baby? Everythin’ okay in that pretty lil’ head of yours?”

Your eyes snap up to Joels, slightly widened but you nod.

“Yeah, I’m… I’m okay. Just thinking of what I should tell Luke.”

Joel nods, opening his mouth to say something when the devil himself appears.

“Tell Luke what?” Luke speaks, smiling at you and Joel as he steps into the barn. He must have seen you come inside it.

Your heart stills and you feel it drop to your ass as you whip around, eyes meeting his. Joel’s hands drop from your waist, and you can’t even think straight. Your heart pounds so hard you feel like you’re rocking on a boat during a thunderstorm, the waves threatening to consume you.

Luke begins to notice that Joel’s hands were on you, once gripped tightly around the sides of your body, now limp at his sides. Twitching. Like they’re aching to hold you again. He notices the clothes you adorn. They’re not yours and they’re definitely not his. Luke’s stomach drops and his smile falls, his own heart racing. Luke might be oblivious to some things, but he’s not an idiot, and he quickly pieces together what’s happening. And then he sees the marks on Joel’s neck. And then on yours.

“What. The. Fuck?” He hisses. His face begins to burn red and he sees it too.

“Luke, please. Let me explain-” You begin, your voice panicked and desperate.

“Oh, no. You don’t need to explain. I know exactly what is going on here… and you know what? I just knew this was going to happen. I knew it. I had this feeling and look! I’m right!”

Your brows knit together and you cross your arms. “Luke, what?”

Luke scoffs, “Babe… you don’t think I haven’t noticed you getting up at five… six in the morning to make Joel coffee? Or the way you’d bounce over to the guest house, the brightest smile on your face like you were going to see the love of your life? You’ve never smiled like that with me! If you don’t think I’ve noticed that then you must be dumber than I thought you were. So fucking dumb.”

Your heart breaks at his words. You know he’s just trying to hurt you, but man does it fucking suck. You loved him wholeheartedly at one point and now you just don’t know him. You haven’t for months. Probably even before you got to the farm. Tears well up in your eyes as you go to say something but get cut off.

“Listen here, you little shit. You will not talk to her like that any longer. Do you hear me?” Joel seethes, but Luke isn’t going to back down.

He laughs, “Upset ‘cause I called her dumb? She just threw everything away for you! You, Joel. 50 years old and what to show for yourself? Living on a dead woman’s farm? No family, no kids. You just had to steal someone else’s wife, huh? You know what? You can have her. She’s a fucking whore anyways!”

“Luke, stop.” You say, your voice wavering as you try and find it, your heart shattering at his words.

“You little fucker. You can say all the shit you want to, Luke,” Joel begins, “But in the end, it was me who fucked your wife, wasn’t it? She had to turn to me ‘cause it was you who couldn’t take care of her.”

You look at Joel with wide eyes at his crude words and you scoff, looking back and forth as the two of them begin to argue. They raise their voices, stepping closer to one another and it just becomes too much. You break.

“Stop! The both of you! Fucking stop!” You yell, your eyes filling with tears. They spill wildly and you don’t even try and wipe them away. Luke looks at you in annoyance and as soon as Joel’s eyes meet yours, he’s nervous. He’s realized what he’s said in anger and he hates to see you cry. He hates that he’s part of the reason you are. Joel tries to reach out to you, uttering a ‘baby’ and you push him back.

“No. Just… stop.” You sob. Your voice is small and nervous, but you knew whatever the outcome of this was, it’d end in disaster. It’d end in heartbreak.

“Luke,” You begin, “I was so in love with you, I mean, fuck. I married you. I moved seven hours out of the city to live in the fucking countryside with you! And not once, did you take my feelings into consideration. The more I think about it; I don’t think you ever did. It was all about you. You’ve been horrible to me the last however long we’ve been here-”

“I haven’t been horrible to you-”

“Let me speak!” You yell back, your fists tightening into little balls. Luke rolls his eyes but shuts up. Joel’s eyes flicker down to your fists, and he physically holds himself back from reaching for them. From reaching for you. He so desperately wants you in his arms, telling you it’ll be okay, that’s he’s sorry, but he knows he can’t. You wouldn’t let him.

“You have been horrible. Not speaking to me or berating me when you do. Pushing me for sex when I didn’t want it. Calling me names and meaning them. ‘Whore’? Really, Luke? The venom you have in your voice when you talk to me… you can’t deny any of that.”

Luke stays silent because he knows you’re right. He can’t look at you anymore and turns his head, his eyes closing as his shoulders slump.

“And you,” You speak, turning to Joel, “What the fuck was that? Boasting like I’m some… trophy? Like I’m-”

“I cheated on you too.” Luke says. Your eyes widen and both you and Joel turn to him. “I am cheating on you. With uh, Caroline.” He says, mentioning his coworker. She was a couple years younger than you and Luke. Newer to the company. You’re pretty sure Luke mentioned he was training her when she was hired about a year ago.

You can’t say you’re shocked. You can’t really say anything as there isn’t much for you to say.

“So, we’re both not innocent then, huh?” You speak. Your voice is serious and final, “Let’s get divorced. We should end this.”

Luke scoffs, crossing his arms. His face begins to falter. He knows you’re right. This should end. He wants to be bitter and petty and hurt you more, but he knows he’s hurt you enough. At one point, he cared about you too. You were the light of his life and then things changed. Work got stressful, Karla died, and his family pressured him to take the farm. He didn’t want to. He has no clue how to take care of a farm, clearly. He had no clue how to take care of you. And to him, it seemed like Joel did.

“Let’s talk about this inside.” He sighs.

A couple hours later you find yourself walking out the back door of the farmhouse and down the hill to Joel’s guest house. Your cheeks are tear stained, and nose is tinged red from crying. No shoes on. The familiar ache of the cold gravel against the heels of your feet almost comforting you.

Once on the rickety porch you’d stepped on to hundreds of times before, you approached the door, rapping on it lightly. Joel only took a few moments to answer it.

“Hi.” You said as you watched him. He looked nervous, cheeks pink with anxiety. Or maybe he’d been crying too. You didn’t know.

“Can I come in?” You asked. He nodded immediately, stepping aside. He didn’t speak though. Maybe he was too nervous to. Too scared. He was terrified this was it.

You made your way to the plaid couch you’d grown to love so much, settling against the soft cushions and breathing out. Joel lingered, standing by the door. He was unsure of what he should do next. Should he sit down? Should he reach out to you? Comfort you? Should he just get the fuck off this farm and never look back? No, he wouldn’t do that. He needed you too badly.

Your reddened, watery eyes looked up to Joel causing his breath to stutter. The anxiety bubbled up from his chest to his throat and he clears it, watching for your next move. You sniffle, rubbing your eyes before holding your arms out to Joel. You needed to be held. He moved to you in lightning speed, scooping you up into his arms and cradling you delicately. Joel settles on to the couch with you in his grasp. He presses small kisses against your temples, scalp and forehead, his heart racing a mile a minute.

“I’m here, baby. Not goin’ nowhere. Not ever. You have me.” He speaks. His words are desperate and needy, like he needs to ingrain it into your mind that he’s yours. Because he is.

Joel holds you for a long time. He’s not sure how long, but it had to be at least an hour or so. His hands rub up and down your back, tracing the curve of your waist and spine. He wants to comfort you, just like you being here comforts him.

It’s a little longer before you speak. You sniffle and pull back slightly, looking up to him. “I’m sorry, Joel.”

His heart races again, “Sorry? What’re you sorry for, darlin’?”

“For everything.” You squeek, your voice cracking. “For getting you into this mess.”

He sighs, “Baby… that’s not somethin’ you need to be sorry for. I wanted you just as bad as you wanted me. Even more so.”

You look away and blink, shrugging. “I just… I don’t know. I don’t know what else to say.”

“That’s alright. You don’t gotta know what to say. Just let me hold you, okay? Whatever happens, we’ll get through it. You and I.” He says, burying his head against the top of yours, breathing in the lingering tea tree scent from his shampoo. His eyes close, heart hammering in his chest which you can hear. The corners of your lips turn upwards, tears springing to your eyes.

“Are you nervous, Joel?”

He pauses a moment before nodding. “Lil’ bit. Just scared you’re gonna go away or somethin’.”

You pause this time, your mind drifting back to your conversation with Luke inside.

“So, sleeping with Joel, huh?” Luke says. You roll your eyes as you sit on the velvet green couch in the living room. He sits on the opposite side of it.

“Sleeping with Caroline, huh?” You retort and he blows a raspberry. There’s a long silence before anyone decides to speak. Tears prick your eyes, and you feel yourself just wanting to run to Joel. He’d make everything feel okay again. You wipe your eyes and Luke sighs.

“I don’t know why you’re crying. This has been coming for a long time. You’re so fucking sensitive.” He says, his tone quiet. He’s annoyed.

“I know. It still hurts though. Sorry for being sensitive, I guess.”

Another long silence, either of you not knowing what to say. He decides to finally look at you, his eyes gazing over your features, appreciating the way your eyelashes curl and then way your eyes glisten, still so full of life and love despite what’s going on. The last time he’s going to do that.

Luke sighs. His next words almost shock you.

“I’m sorry. You know that right?” He speaks. Your eyebrows knit and you look at him, more tears falling.

“Are you?”

He pauses again. “Yes. I didn’t mean to turn into such an asshole. I didn’t mean to make you run into the arms of someone who could treat you better. I just… stopped caring. It’s not okay. I’m sorry.” Luke taking accountability? This was new.

You shrug, wiping your tears away. You were so tired of crying.

“Well, I appreciate that, Luke. It sucks it turned out like this. That we… Turned out like this.”

“So, what should we do? What… do you want to do?” Luke asks. He’s calm. Sad, but he’s calm. No more venom. He’s ready for this to be over, and frankly, so you were you.

“I think a divorce would be best. There’s no love here. Not how it used to be anyways.” Which was true. You’d always have a love for Luke even if you weren’t in love with him.

He nods, wiping his nose. He wasn’t a crier, but this was hard for him too. You didn’t think it would be, but he was always surprising you.

“Okay. What about… the farm? I’m not staying here anymore, my family will have to decide what happen-”

“Joel should have it.” You say, interrupting him. “He’s been here 25 years. He can take care of it better than anyone in your family would. Hell, Karla couldn’t even take care of it. That’s why she hired him.”

He scoffs, “Oh, so you want Joel to get the farm so you can stay and live out your weird farm fantasy with him?” Luke spits, that venom seeping back into his words. He was always going to be like that.

You sigh, closing your eyes. “No. That’s not it at all. I don’t even know what’s happening with Joel and I, Luke. I don’t know where I’m going after this. But let’s face it… Karla would want him to have it.”

Luke huffs and stands up, pacing the room as he thinks. It’s another few moments before he says anything. He turns towards you, his eyes sad but he gives you a curt nod. His shoulders fall in defeat. He didn’t want to fight anymore. “You’re right. Joel should have it. Even if you decide to stay here with him. Which is insane to me… you didn’t even want to come here in the first place.”

You nod softly, remembering those months ago when Luke told you you’d be moving here. How much you hated it. How you’d stay up at night and have panic attacks at the idea of leaving the city. Now look at you. You couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

“I’ll tell my family. No one else really wanted it anyways. Not even Nick. So, it’s Joel’s… and… yours?” He asks cautiously.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Luke. I already told you that. We’ll… see.”

He nods again, his shoulders slumping further as he exhales a breath he wasn’t aware that he was even holding. You stand, knees a little wobbly from the adrenaline finally settling in your body.

“So, this is it then?” Luke says, biting down on his bottom lip. You nod.

“Yeah. It is.”

He looks away from you, looking anywhere besides where you stood. He knows he screwed up and he feels bad, yet a part of him feels free. He decides to step forward, awkwardly opening his arms to you and you hesitate, but you take it. The both of you have a final embrace. It’s empty. He just feels like another body against yours. There’s no emotion, but somehow, it’s the closure you needed.

“So, I’ll see ya?” Luke says, inhaling the scent of you one last time. He nearly scowls. Tea tree. He hated tea tree.

“Yeah, maybe not.” You laughed, tears spilling from your eyes. You wipe them away and he smiles, laughing too.

“Are you nervous, Joel?”

He pauses a moment before nodding. “Lil’ bit. Just scared you’re going to go away or somethin’.”

You pause, slightly unsure of what to say. It makes him more nervous.

“Do you want me to?” You finally ask Joel. He pushes you back, looking into your eyes.

“Do I want you to leave?” He asks. He looks like you’ve asked the silliest question in the world, but you nod anyways. He doesn’t speak for a moment, trying to find the right words to say.

“If you decide to leave, there’s nothing I can do about that… but I think it’d just down right kill me.”

His words make your heart leap, and you close your eyes, not wanting anymore tears to spill. You lean forward, burying your face in Joel’s chest. His fingers lace through your hair, his whole being trying to convey the fact that he wants you to stay right here with him.

“Then I’ll stay.” You mumble into the fabric of his sweater, but he doesn’t quite hear you.

“Hmm?”

You peer up to him, your lashes damp as your glossy eyes look into his dark, anxious ones. It takes his breath away.

“I said I will stay. Here with you.”

Joel’s heart stops as he finally hears you and all he can do is close his eyes and pull you back into him. He holds you there against him, not daring to move, not daring to let go. And you stay. You don’t wiggle, you don’t move, you sit there breathing him in deeply. The comfort this man gave you was insane. You could live here in his arms, on this farm, hours from a real town or city and you would be happy. You’d have him and he’d have you.

Images of your life on the farm with Joel flash through your mind and it has you reeling. Winter on the farm and being bundled up with him in bed, trying to stay warm with the space heater since the main house has a mean draft. Maybe you could convince him to get matching pajamas with you. Christmas ones with trees and stars on it.

You imagine helping Joel with Estrella and her baby in the spring. He could teach you how to tend to the chickens and horses so you could help fetch the eggs without getting pecked and even brush the horse's manes, giving them a braid or two. Joel’s been talking about starting a garden. It’d be the perfect time to get cucumbers planted, and tomatoes even.

Maybe in the summertime, you and Joel could lay a blanket on the hill in the backyard and watch the clouds pass by and as the day turned to night, you could count the stars in the sky with him. Maybe he’d lean over and kiss you, his hand trailing from your jaw to your neck to your waist. He’d take you on that blanket, under the moon, making love to the only woman he’d ever wanted in his life to stay with him for good.

And maybe that fall, you’d run into the stables, tears streaming down your cheeks as you gripped the little stick in your hand. Joel would look at you with concern, his brows knitted together tightly before looking down to what was gripped in your palm. He’d rush over to you, asking what it said, and you’d smile, nodding your head.

“Thank you.” He speaks. It’d been God knows how long since someone had said something, but you didn’t mind. The silence was comfortable with him. You look up to him again, the side of your cheek smooshed against his peck, and he smiles.

“Thank you? For what?” You ask. Joel’s hands caress the side of your cheek that’s not pressed against his chest, and he hums.

“For stayin’. Lord nows why you’d stay, but I’m glad. Real glad, my sweet girl.”

“Yeah, well… this place has grown on me. Who would have thought?” You say, smiling softly. Joel smiles too.

“Yeah, just the charm of the farm, huh, sugar? Nothing else?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Hmm… nope. I just really like Estrella. And her new baby is really cute too.”

Joel’s eyes roll but then he leans down and pecks your lips in a sequence. He presses his lips against yours over and over and you think to yourself there’s no way you could ever get sick of this.

He pulls back and wipes the hair out of your face, “Just so God damn pretty, baby girl. Can’t believe I’ll get to look at you every day. Get to touch you and kiss you.” Joel speaks and he’s really just talking to himself. He’s trying to convince himself this is really happening. You sit up, placing your legs on either side of Joel as you straddle him. His eyes flash with desire and it goes straight to his groin. You can feel it as his length pokes against your core but he doesn’t try anything. He just looks at you.

“Sorry, darlin’. Don’t gotta do nothin’ about it, just happens when I’m around you.”

You shake your head, corners of your mouth flitting upwards. “It’s okay, Joel. I don’t mind it. I kinda love that I can turn you on so easily.”

Joel smirks, “’Kinda’ love it? What do you think cause I’m damn near geriatric I shouldn’t be able to get it up anymore?”

“Oh my god. That’s not what I’m saying.” You say as your face burns, and you roll your eyes.

He laughs, “I know, baby. I just like givin’ you a hard time.”

“Hmm… well, I know something else that's hard you can give to me.” You smirk. You’re kidding and he knows it but it still turns him on even further. His grip on your waist tightens before trailing it down to your ass and pulling you against him. You feel that familiar ache in between your legs as his tip teases you through your pants. You shake your head.

“Joel…” You say warningly.

“I know, I know. It’s not really a sexy time right now, is it?”

You nod, “Not really… maybe later though? Luke’s packing right now. He said he’ll be gone by tomorrow morning. Could I sleep here with you tonight?”

Joel’s heart skips a beat, “I wouldn’t think you’d be anywhere else.”

Silence falls between the two of you as Joel takes your hands into his. His fingers pad over your delicate skin, tracing up the length of them and over the chipped polish on your nails. He laces his with yours and looks into your eyes. Joel feels his heart thump against his chest, an overwhelming sensation bubbling in the pit of his stomach. He’s going to say it. He’s never said it in his entire life to anyone. But he knows he feels it with you. It might be too soon, but in this moment he doesn’t care. He doesn’t know if you feel it too, but he thinks so. Joel’s nervous, and when he opens his mouth to speak, you stop him.

“I know.” You breathe, gripping on to his fingers tightly. Your voice waivers. “You don’t have to say it. I… I know.” And you do. You know exactly what he’s going to say and yes, of course you want to hear it. You feel it too. But you’re not ready. Not yet.

“I feel the same way.” You hush, bringing his knuckles up to your lips and pressing small kisses against them.

Joel’s eyes get blurry, and he nods, huffing slightly. He leans in and kisses you and you kiss him back. It’s simple, but passionate. You can feel the emotion he radiates for you and you hope he can feel it right back.

“I want to say it though, baby girl. You mean so much to me. Greatest fuckin’ thing to ever happen to me if I'm quite honest. Despite some trouble here and there.” He hums, lips pressing to your cheek and jaw. Your eyes close as you savor his touches, and you hum back.

“Me too. Maybe that’s crazy to say but I’ve never had anyone care for me the way you do, Joel. So, trust me. I feel the exact same way about you. Let’s just wait a little longer to say it. I mean I just found out I’m getting a divorce.”

Joel pulls back and looks into your eyes. They hold stars and galaxies and Joel is convinced that he could look into them forever. One look from you and he’d know everything would work out. You were his home, not this farm. And when he thought about it, it was well worth the wait for him to find you. He’d spend another 50 years alone if that meant he could spend eternity with you when it was all said and done.

The both of you knew there was still a lot to work out, but whatever happened, it’d be you two. That was all you really needed.

“I think… we should go into the kitchen and tear up the rest of that pecan pie. Whaddya think?” Joel smiles, pulling you with him as he gets up from the couch. His arms wrap around your waist as yours wrap around his neck and you smile, nodding to him.

“Sounds good to me. I could go for a lil’ something sweet right now.”

Thank you for reading this. As always, likes and reblogs are appreciated and if you enjoyed reading it, let me know! ♥️

[pandapetals]

The Glasses Stay On

summary: a quiet evening turns into something far steamier when Joel catches you teasing him while he's wearing those damn glasses he swore he didn’t need.

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

word count: 4k

content warnings: smut, no plot, joel keeps the glasses on, blowjob, face riding, pet names, no y/n used, no reader description, established relationship, teasing, banter, not proofread

a/n: divider by @saradika-graphics. i am feeling feral after seeing joel in glasses. it's my first time writing oral sex (blowjob) so...hopefully it's good? also inspired by elliespuns answer on joel asking for eye contact when he eats you out.

All thoughts scattered the moment you stepped through the door.

Joel sat at the kitchen table, shoulders hunched, sleeves shoved to his elbows. He didn’t look up, too focused on the mess of metal and wire in front of him. His brow was furrowed in concentration, and his lower lip was caught slightly between his teeth.

But it wasn’t the project that caught your attention.

It was the glasses.

Thin, silver-framed and slightly crooked—he always refused to wear them around you, brushing off your teasing with a stubborn, "Don’t need ‘em." But here he was, home alone, caught in the act. A quiet, unguarded moment. And for some reason, it hit you low and warm.

His hands moved with surprising precision, thick fingers maneuvering the pliers with rough delicacy that made your mouth go dry. The edge of his brown jacket was rolled to the midpoint of his forearms, a smear of grease trailing across one vein-lined wrist. He looked like something out of a dream you didn’t realize you’d been having.

You didn’t mean to stare. You certainly didn’t mean to feel like this—heart kicking up, thighs pressing together before you even crossed the room.

Your bag hit the floor with a soft thud. Shoes were toed off. You padded closer, heat rising up your neck.

“Well, don’t you look pretty,” you teased, voice lighter than you felt. Your smile curled slowly, eyes drinking him in.

Joel let out a low grunt, not lifting his head. “Don’t start.”

You chuckled under your breath, stopping beside the table. “But you look so cute,” you cooed, hand reaching out before you could stop yourself. Your fingers brushed his jaw, gentle but insistently coaxing his chin up.

He finally looked at you, his eyes slowly lifting just above the rim of his glasses. They were darker now, narrowed beneath furrowed brows, unreadable… but there was something there. A flicker. A tension. Heat coiled low in your belly at the sight of it.

His voice was low and hoarse, scraping at your spine like sandpaper. “Sweetheart,” he murmured, “don’t distract me.”

Your lips parted, breath catching how he said it—gritty, quiet, like a warning—only made your pulse faster.

“Me?” you whispered, placing a hand against your chest with exaggerated innocence. “Distract you? Never.”

Joel huffed a soft laugh through his nose, shaking his head, but his hand faltered slightly as he adjusted the wire he was working on. You saw it—the smallest stutter in his movement. Not much. Just enough to know he wasn’t unaffected.

You stepped closer, just enough for your knee to brush the edge of his thigh under the table. His hand stilled completely.

He didn’t look up this time. Just exhaled slowly through his nose, nostrils flaring. A vein in his forearm twitched, like he was holding something back.

God, he was so handsome like this—jaw tight, lips pressed in a firm line, glasses slipping a little down the bridge of his nose. His shirt clung in places from the house's heat, damp at the collar. One more minute of watching him like this and you would lose it.

Your voice dropped, barely above a hum. “You know,” you said, tilting your head, “if this is what you look like when you’re focused, I might have to start leaving you little projects more often.”

He froze for a beat. Then slowly, he set the pliers down with a quiet clink.

Joel turned in his chair, eyes dragging up your body—deliberate, slow, heat simmering behind his stare. He pushed his glasses up with one finger, the corner of his mouth twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

“You keep talkin’ like that,” he muttered, “and you’re gonna find yourself bent over this table ‘fore I even finish fixin’ this damn thing.”

You shook your head slowly, lips curling into a wicked little smirk. Then, without breaking eye contact, you sank to your knees between his legs.

“I’ve got other plans,” you murmured, voice silk-soft, threaded with heat.

Your hands found his knees first—broad, warm, solid beneath your palms. You slid them upward, slow and teasing, feeling the muscle tense beneath your touch as you traced the line of his thighs.

Joel’s breath hitched. Barely audible, but you caught it.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, voice gone gravel-deep. His hands flexed where they rested on the edge of the table. “You ain’t gotta do that, honey.”

He said it like a protest, but there was no weight behind it—no real resistance, just that familiar Joel reluctance, that soft spot he tried to hide behind rough hands and gruff words.

“I want to,” you whispered, looking up at him through your lashes. Your fingers were already at the button of his jeans, popping it open with practiced ease. “You just keep working.”

You winked, dragging the zipper down slowly. The rasp of metal filled the quiet space between you, and you felt the way his thighs tightened beneath your touch—his whole body coiled like a live wire.

Joel cursed again, one hand lifting to pinch the bridge of his nose, half in disbelief, half trying to hold himself together. But his hips shifted, just slightly, a silent surrender.

He still hadn’t looked down at you.

The challenge of it made your pulse race.

You leaned in, pressing a kiss just above the waistband of his boxers, your lips lingering against the warm skin.

Joel’s breath came sharp through his nose.

“Keep your hands steady, handsome,” you whispered, your voice low and playful. “Don’t want you messing up that wiring.”

His answer came through clenched teeth. “You’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.”

You weren’t in a rush.

You wanted to savor this—to savor him. Every slow, deliberate motion was part of the tease, your fingers hooking into the waistband of his jeans and dragging them down inch by inch. The fabric scraped rough against your knuckles, and you could feel the heat radiating off his skin before you even reached him.

Joel’s breath came unevenly, his hands gripping the table's edge hard enough to whiten his knuckles.

When his boxers followed, his cock sprang free—already half-hard, heavy, and twitching slightly in the cool air. You let your eyes linger on him, licking your lips without shame. Then you wrapped your fingers around him, dragging your fist down the thick length once… twice…

Joel groaned, deep and guttural. His hips jerked forward against your hand like his body was acting on instinct, chasing more.

You looked up at him through your lashes, your strokes lazy, teasing. Just enough to drive him mad. You were in control now, and he was already starting to unravel.

“Fuck,” he hissed, head falling back slightly, jaw clenched tight. “You’re gonna kill me.”

A smile tugged at your lips. You leaned in, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin beneath the head, then another to the base, watching the muscles in his thighs tense and flex beneath your touch.

You adored him like this.

Unraveling. Wordless. Tension bleeding out of that tightly-wound body because of you.

You dragged your mouth up the length of him, slow as sin, your breath hot and heavy against his skin. Joel’s hand shot out, fingers curling tight into your hair, but he didn’t push—just held, like he needed the anchor.

“I love watchin’ you fall apart for me,” you whispered against him, lips brushing the sensitive ridge.

Joel finally looked down at you, eyes dark and glassy, his chest rising and falling in deep, uneven pulls like he’d just fought his way through a storm.

“Jesus,” he breathed, voice wrecked. “You look so fuckin’ pretty like this.”

The words hit you low and deep, lighting something hot inside your belly. You beamed at him, lips parting in a slow, satisfied smile because you knew exactly what you were doing to him. Knew he could barely hold himself together.

You leaned in and finally took him into your mouth without breaking eye contact.

The warm and heavy taste of him on your tongue made your thighs press together. You kept the pace gentle at first, hollowing your cheeks just enough, letting your lips glide over the sensitive skin as you drew him in.

Joel groaned—deep and rough—and his hips shifted, his body fighting to stay still. One of his hands was still tangled in your hair, not pulling, just holding like he didn’t trust himself not to lose control.

You hummed around him, loving how he twitched against your tongue in response. His breath stuttered. Another soft sound escaped him—a whimper, barely audible, but it sent a pulse of heat straight between your legs.

God, you lived for this. Watching Joel come undone, letting you see the cracks in that hard exterior. Every ragged breath, every broken sound, was a gift—a secret he gave only to you.

Your hands gripped his thighs, fingers digging in for leverage as you took him deeper, the stretch making your eyes water just slightly, but you didn’t stop. Couldn’t. You wanted all of him. Needed it.

His voice came out strangled, wrecked, and desperate. “Fuck—sweetheart, you keep goin’ like that, I ain’t gonna last.”

You pulled back just enough to breathe, letting your tongue flick against the tip before sinking again, taking him deeper this time, allowing your throat to relax as far as you could. His hips bucked, involuntary, a hiss tearing from between his clenched teeth.

Your hands smoothed up his stomach beneath his shirt, feeling his belly tensed under your touch. You could feel it—how close he was—the tremble in his thighs, the low groan vibrating in his chest, the way his fingers gripped your hair like he was hanging on by a thread.

You looked up at him again, eyes wet, lips swollen, mouth full of him, and smiled the best you could.

You wanted him to come apart. To feel it. To lose himself in you.

Joel’s voice cracked low and rough above you. “That’s it, darlin’... fuck.”

His hips jerked, shallow and restrained at first, but then a little deeper and needier. He was trying to hold back, trying not to thrust too hard, but his control was fraying with every flick of your tongue, every slow pull of your mouth.

You let him. 

You welcomed the way he started to fuck into your mouth, hips rolling forward in time with the wet slide of your lips. He was breathing hard now, one hand clenched in your hair, the other braced on the table behind him—his whole body taut, vibrating with the effort of staying upright.

“Shit—sweetheart, I’m—I’m not gonna last,” he gritted out, voice low and broken. “Fuck, you feel too good…”

Your hands smoothed under his shirt again, fingertips brushing his stomach, feeling how it flexed under your touch. You moaned around him, soft and encouraging, and that was it—that did it.

Joel’s breath hitched, his thighs tensed beneath your hands.

“Fuck—fuck,” he choked, voice strangled as his hips snapped forward one last time, his release hitting hard and fast. You felt the twitch of him on your tongue, the warmth spilling into your mouth as he gasped your name like a prayer and a curse all at once.

You didn’t pull away. You took every bit of it, swallowing around him lazily, like you had all the time in the world.

When you finally drew back, a thin string of spit still connected your lips to the head of his cock. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, blinking up at him with that same wicked smile.

“You’re trouble,” Joel rasped, still catching his breath, voice thick and rough like gravel. “Sweet, dangerous fuckin’ trouble.”

You tilted your head, eyes flicking up to where his glasses had slipped slightly down his nose with a slow, satisfied smile. Your fingers gliding down the inside of his thighs—just to feel the aftershocks still buzzing beneath his skin. He was flushed and sweaty, chest rising and falling, shirt clinging to him in all the right places. The sight of him like this—flushed, undone, still wearing those damn glasses—made your smirk deepen.

“You should wear your glasses more often,” you teased, dragging your nails lightly along his thigh. “Kinda makes you look like a professor with a filthy mouth.”

Joel huffed out a weak laugh, head tipping back against the chair with a groan.

“Don’t start,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “You just about killed me and now you’re lookin’ to finish the job.”

You pushed yourself up between his knees slowly, hands braced on his thighs as you leaned in close—so close your breath tickled the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, I haven’t even started yet,” you whispered, lips brushing barely against his.

His hand came up to cup the side of your neck, thumb stroking slow against your jaw. The heat in his gaze had shifted, less wrecked, more focused. Grounded. Dangerous in a different way.

“Is that so?” he murmured, voice still low but steadying, a challenge creeping back in. “Guess it’s my turn, then.”

You opened your mouth to protest—to tell Joel he didn’t have to, that he could sit back down and finish whatever project had his attention before you rudely distracted him.

But then he gave you that look.

That smirk. That slow, knowing curl of his mouth paired with eyes that dragged over your body like he was undressing you.

“Don’t act like you don’t want me to make you feel good, sweet girl,” he murmured, voice all gravel and heat.

His words alone sent a spark straight through you—low, heavy, and impossible to ignore. Your thighs pressed together, the aftershocks of your earlier teasing still lingering between them.

“Joel, you don’t—”

He didn’t let you finish.

Instead, he stood up, towering over you, then bent just enough to hook his arms around your waist. You let out a startled laugh as he lifted you clean off the ground and slung you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing.

“Joel!” you squealed, half laughing and breathless, but your protest died when your eyes landed on the sight before you—his ass—still exposed from where you’d dragged his jeans down earlier.

You grinned, biting your lip, but the amusement twisted into something hotter the moment Joel’s palm came down in a firm, playful smack against the curve of your ass.

“Don’t tempt me,” he said, voice low, barely above a rumble. You could feel it against your stomach where your body pressed against his.

Then, almost to himself, more thoughtful than teasing. “What should I do for you, honey…”

You shivered at the question—not because you didn’t have answers, but because it came out like a promise. Like he wasn’t just thinking about giving you pleasure—he was planning it. Mapping it out in that careful, deliberate way, Joel did everything.

As he carried you toward the bedroom, your fingers curled into the hem of his jacket, nails scraping lightly against his lower back.

“You’re such a caveman,” you muttered, trying to sound annoyed. But your voice came out breathy, wrecked with anticipation.

Joel chuckled, one hand sliding up to grip your thigh.

“Yeah, but you like it when I drag you off like this,” he said, shouldering the bedroom door open. “Don’t think I didn’t see the way you smiled when I smacked your ass.”

He dropped you onto the bed with a gentle thud, your back hitting the mattress and bouncing slightly. Before you could sit up, he crawled over you, glasses still somehow on, those eyes burning into yours like you were the only thing he wanted to see in the world.

“Now,” he said, his voice dropping to a near-growl as he kissed a slow path down your neck, “lemme return the favor.”

Joel undressed you in a blur of rough hands and reverent kisses—fingers tugging at fabric, mouth tracing the skin he exposed, piece by piece. He didn’t rush, but he didn’t waste time either, like he couldn’t stand the thought of you being covered for a second longer than necessary.

By the time you were bare beneath him, chest rising and falling with anticipation, his touch softened—thumb and forefinger teasing your nipples with slow, deliberate rolls that had you gasping beneath him.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he muttered, almost to himself, eyes drinking you like something sacred. Then he dipped lower, kissing a slow, open-mouthed path down your stomach, dragging his stubble just enough to make you squirm.

You braced for it—for him to settle between your thighs, but instead, Joel pulled back.

You blinked, breath caught in your throat as he stripped out of his jacket and shirt, revealing the hard planes of his chest, the sweat-slick heat of him. Then, with surprising ease, he lay flat on his back and shifted you with him, guiding your thighs to straddle his chest, then higher, until you were hovering above his face.

“Joel,” you said, half-breathless. “What are you—? I thought you were gonna return the favor.”

He smirked, brow arched, the picture of smug, ruined perfection beneath you.

“I am, sweetheart,” he rasped, his voice a gravelly promise. His hands gripped your hips, firm and possessive, and dragged you up a little higher until your knees were planted on either side of his head, your pussy just inches above his mouth. “You like riding so much…” His gaze flicked up, hot and hungry. “So ride my face.”

Your breath caught—stolen clean out of your chest.

You let out a quiet, stunned laugh, but it faltered when you met his eyes. He wasn’t joking. There was no teasing in his expression now—just heat, need, and the kind of patience that made your stomach flip.

“Joel,” you breathed, your voice trembling, your fingers curling into his hair for balance.

You’d done this before, but never like this. Never with him lay out like a man ready to worship. His hands coaxing you down, his mouth open, waiting, like he was the lucky one.

And fuck… maybe he was.

In this moment, as his grip tightened and he pulled you gently down to his lips, you felt like you were the one about to be worshipped.

“C’mon, darlin’,” he said, voice low and reverent as his breath ghosted over your skin. “Don’t be shy now. Let me taste you.”

You leaned down slightly, breath hitching as you reached for the bridge of his glasses, fingertips brushing the metal.

Joel gently batted your hand away, his voice low and commanding, but soft around the edges.

“Nah,” he murmured, eyes locking with yours beneath the lenses. “I wanna see you. Wanna see how pretty you look when you come.”

The words landed like a punch to your gut—hot and heavy, straight between your thighs. Your body tensed in response, breath stalling in your chest. The idea of him watching—really watching—every twitch, every gasp, every moment of you falling apart on top of him?

It short-circuited your brain.

You barely had time to respond—no witty retort, no teasing comeback—before Joel’s grip on your hips tightened, fingers digging into your skin in that possessive way he always touched you when his restraint started to slip.

And then he pulled you down onto his mouth.

You gasped loudly, the sound ripping from your throat as your hips met his face. His tongue was already there, already moving, hot and slow and devastating between your folds.

Your hands flew forward, scrambling until you found the headboard. Gripping it like a lifeline, your thighs trembled on either side of his head.

“Joel—” you choked out, but it was barely a sound.

He groaned into you in response, the vibration making your spine arch. His hands slid from your hips to your ass, holding you in place, guiding your movement—urging you to grind against his mouth.

He wanted you to ride. Wanted to feel it. Wanted to watch every second through those damn glasses like it was his favorite view in the world.

You looked down and nearly fell apart again.

Joel’s eyes were open, locked on yours—dark and intent, his lashes damp with sweat, the lower half of his face already glistening. He looked wrecked and entirely in control all at once.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, rolling your hips without meaning to, chasing the pressure, the friction of his tongue dragging through your slick.

He groaned again, his grip flexing, his mouth working you with purpose now—slow circles, firm flicks, sucking gently on your clit before diving back in with messy, open-mouthed hunger.

You couldn’t look away. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

Joel didn’t stop or even blink as he kept watching you. 

“Joel… oh, fuck, right there—” you moaned, voice cracking as your fingers dug harder into the headboard, knuckles white with the effort to stay grounded.

He didn’t let up.

Joel’s mouth moved with deliberate, devastating precision—his tongue lapping over your clit in slow, firm strokes, just the way he knew would push you over the edge. Every flick, every pull of his lips sent shocks through you, your thighs trembling where they bracketed his face.

He was relentless. His hands gripping your ass, holding you down against his mouth as if he knew you were close, as if he could feel it in the way your body started to twitch, to quake. His stubble scraped deliciously along your inner thighs, raw and unfiltered, the kind of burn you’d crave after it was over.

You were sweating, skin flushed and damp, the air thick and heavy around you. Every nerve felt on fire. Your back arching, hips rocking helplessly against him, chasing every bit of friction his mouth offered.

Your head tipped forward, forehead pressing against the cool wood of the headboard as the tension inside you twisted tighter and tighter, impossible to contain.

“Don’t stop,” you gasped, your voice barely recognizable—hoarse, wrecked. “Joel, please—right there, don’t stop—”

He groaned beneath you, the sound sending another ripple of heat through your core. One of his hands slid between your legs, two fingers slipping inside you with ease—thick, perfect, curling just right as his mouth stayed locked on your clit.

The sensation shattered you.

Your entire body seized, hips jerking forward as the orgasm slammed into you. A cry tore from your throat, as wave after wave rolled through you, pleasure sparking like electricity from your core to your fingertips.

Joel didn’t stop.

He kept working you through it, drawing out every last twitch, every helpless moan, until your legs went weak and your grip on the headboard loosened.

When you finally opened your eyes, panting and dazed, Joel was still beneath you—his lips wet, beard damp, and those goddamn glasses still on as he looked up at you like you were his favorite sin.

“Pretty when you beg,” he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction.

You took a shaky breath, your body still trembling with the echoes of release as Joel guided you down onto the bed. His movements were deliberate. He hovered for a second, eyes scanning your face, like he needed to make sure you were still there, still okay.

You were. You just felt like you’d melted into the mattress.

His hands smoothed over your hips, then your thighs, grounding you with his touch. You could feel how gentle and attuned he was to every little shiver running through you. Like he didn’t just want to hold you—he wanted to protect whatever fragile thing had bloomed between you in that moment.

“So goddamn pretty,” Joel murmured, voice hoarse and low as he leaned down to kiss you.

The kiss was soft. Slow. Not hungry or rushed, just full of heat left behind. You could taste yourself on his lips, the faintest salt-sweet tang, and instead of embarrassment, it only made your stomach flip again.

Your fingers found the back of his neck, curling into the damp hair at his nape, stroking gently. His weight was warm above you, comforting, and you let yourself sink into the feeling of him, skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat.

When he pulled back, you caught sight of his glasses—still clinging to his face, slightly fogged from the heat radiating between your bodies.

You blinked, then let out a soft laugh.

“Oh, shit,” you muttered, reaching up to nudge them crooked on his nose. “I think I bent your glasses.”

Joel gave you that slow, lazy smirk, eyes still dark with the afterglow.

“Worth it,” he murmured.

He peeled them off with one hand and set them aside on the nightstand, not bothering to look at the damage. Then he rolled onto his side, tugging you until your head rested against his chest, one of his arms wrapped tightly around your back.

You could hear his heartbeat. Steady. Solid. Familiar.

He kissed the top of your head, his scruff scratching lightly against your scalp.

“Y’alright?” he murmured into your hair, voice softened now, more Joel than ever.

You nodded, pressing your nose to his skin and breathing him in.

“Better than alright,” you whispered.

He hummed low in his throat, content and quiet, fingertips tracing lazy circles along your spine like he never wanted to let you go.

[talaok]

Be the one to do it

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary:  You've always had a crush on your neighbor Joel, and once your friend Jordan suggests you ask him to help with a little "problem" of yours, it turns out he had never been such an unattainable dream.

Warnings: basically pwp. smut| big ass unspecified age gap, virginity loss, oral sex (f and m receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, kinda breeding kink and size kink, dirty talk, he talks you through it, Joel calls reader with a bunch of pet names and probably more stuff but i need to go to sleep.

a/n: this is the farthest it can get from original. you've probably read 10 other fics with the same premise but i just wanted to write some sweet and filthy virginity loss sue me

"I can barely get a sentence out around him and you think I'm gonna ask him to have sex!?"

"well yeah" Jordan laughed "It makes sense"

Your friend was looking at you like she'd just suggested getting ice cream, while what had really just come out of her mouth was really, exponentially different.

"you're out of your mind if you think-"

"just shut up" she interrupted, rolling her eyes "It would be a fucking walk in the park"

Your eyes widened exaggeratedly at that.

Did she have any idea about what she was suggesting?

The last time you'd interacted with Joel Miller all he had to do was ask how summer break was going for your face to get as hot as the sun and for you to end up muttering some nonsense and running away.

"He'd never say yes"

Again, Jordan's eyes rolled back.

"Y/n listen I love you but sometimes you can be real fucking dumb," she said, fighting a smile "The guy probably hasn't gotten laid in years!" she huffed a laugh "And with you? With a hot young piece of ass like you!? No guy on the planet would say no"

"You-you're just saying that... and you don't know him"

"I know men"

__ __ __

You didn't even remember how you'd gotten there, all you knew was that Joel Miller was right in front of you, opening the door to his fucking house.

"Hi"

Your face was already getting warm and your voice was just an inch above unhearable.

"Hi darlin'" he greeted you, smiling with that slow, easy smile that made you want to cry every single time.

How could a human being be so hot?

"Come on in" he nodded behind him "What's goin' on?"

Now here was the problem. You had no plan whatsoever, and this was setting itself up to be a complete shitshow.

"I..."

You weren't even meeting his eyes, you could see him trying to catch a glimpse of your gaze but you couldn't do it- to be quite frank you were already starting to panic... and to regret your decision.

"you want something to drink?"

You looked up at him, your mouth slightly open as your words died on your tongue.

Jesus, he was handsome.

You hadn't gotten the chance to really look at him before, but now there he was in all his glory… huge strong muscles fighting against his shirt and all.

"c'mon, I'll get ya some water"

You didn't miss the smirk on his lips as he caught you ogling his arms.

Definitely not off to a good start.

He handed you a glass of water, and you took it, willing your hands not to shake.

The golden light of the afternoon sun seeped through the curtains of his kitchen windows, illuminating the space with a calmness that completely contrasted with your state.

"boy problems?"

You almost flinched at the sound of his voice.

"gotta beat somebody up?"

He must have thought you were dumb with the way you were staring at him all wide-eyed, not daring to speak a word.

You needed to think of something, preferably right now.

"n-no, nothing like that” you shook your head, forcing a smile.

A beat of silence passed before you decided to take back already what you’d said.

“well actually sorta"

He frowned, shifting his stance from one foot to the other.

He was waiting for you to expand on your words, but the birds chirping on the nearby trees were the only sound in the room.

"you can talk to me doll, I ain't gonna bite"

You could feel your cheeks get hot.

Jesus it's like everything he did was scandalously sexy- every time he spoke with that sweet drawl of his, every pet name he used for you... he could have peeled his clothes off slowly as he gave you a lap dance and the effect on you would be the exact same.

"Well I just..." you started "I've got a... problem"

He looked even more confused.

Were you about to tell him you're pregnant? No that would be impossible, he'd never seen you with any guy around here... but maybe at college.

For some reason, the thought of you with another guy... with a boy... didn't sit right with him.

Actually, he knew the reason, throughout the summer he'd caught himself staring a little too long at you more times than he'd like to admit- it was like all of a sudden you had grown, and the sweet little kid living next to him was now suddenly a gorgeous woman. He didn't really know what to do with that information, with the inappropriate feelings and urgings weighing in his gut every time his gaze fell upon you and you squirmed embarrassed like a shy little thing.

"alright..." he urged you to go on.

"Sarah's not home right?"

His brows drew closer together as he frowned.

Why would you ask that?

"She's at a friend's"

You nodded, suddenly looking more resolute, even if the way your teeth tortured your poor bottom lip was enough of a tell of how nervous you were.

You had decided. Jordan was right. There was no harm in trying, and if it didn't go right you'd just avoid him for the rest of your life.

"I'm a virgin Joel"

You saw his eyes widen before your own words had even registered.

"O-oh"

That's all he could stutter. I mean what was he supposed to say? That seconds before he thought you were about to tell him you were pregnant? That he could not understand how someone as beautiful as you, with the billion contenders he was sure you had, still had not found a single one to have sex with?

"And I... well the thing is that I don't want to be anymore"

He tried to get back to how cool and collected he was before- you were here to talk to him after all, the least he could do was be as helpful as possible.

"right" he cleared his throat "you want some advice on how to navigate this thing?"

The silence and the look on your face told him quite the opposite.

What were you here for then?

"No- I- the thing is that... I was wondering if maybe you'd agree to-" you bit your cheek as you finally spat it out "to be the one to do it"

Joel was sure his heart had stopped.

"babygirl-" The words had barely left your mouth and he was already stopping you.

You felt tears prick your eyes... you knew that tone.

"I'm sorry it was a stupid-"

Goddamn you Jordan.

You were already planning to run out the door when he spoke.

"darlin' I'm pushing forty here"

That's not what you expected him to say. He wasn't disgusted, or amused, or angry...

"yes but-" You tried to speak but he was talking over you again.

"you're twenty... you ain't even old enough to buy a six-pack, I-I- that ain't something you're supposed to do with me"

Joel would have never admitted it, but he was saying those things mostly to himself- to desperately fight the instinct that took over him the moment you explained the reason you were at his house... the instinct to take you up the stairs and fuck you so good no one else would ever compare.

"b-but it's what I want"

You weren't giving up. You didn't know what, but there was something about the way he was going about it that told you there was still a sliver of a chance.

Only there was a lot more than a sliver... and the way you were looking up at him with those desperate doe eyes was upping your chance as you spoke.

"I trust you, Joel," you said "You're the only man that I know that I would trust with this"

He sighed, shaking his head "If your dad found out- Jesus I wouldn't live to see another day darlin'"

Your hand found his chest, strong and solid as rock beneath your palm.

"I won't tell" you murmured, your words verging on pleas "I-I won't tell anyone Joel I promise" you swore, looking up at him as his own eyes bore into yours.

"You're the only one I want to do this with... the only one I trust"

You could see the resolution, the fight, leave his face.

How the hell was he supposed to say no?

Christ, not even a priest would have that amount of self-control.

"fuck sweetheart" he shook his head before looking up, a long breath leaving his throat "You're gonna get me killed"

You didn't even try to hide your excitement.

Your heart was beating a mile a minute as you asked "Is- is that a yes?"

His eyes- his beautiful, big, hazel eyes were back on you.

"'f course it is"

You smiled so wide your cheeks hurt.

It was really happening.

You were gonna lose your virginity to Joel fucking Miller.

"A-are we gonna do it now?" you asked, almost breathless with joy "I-I mean only if you feel like it of course"

"If I feel like it..." Joel couldn't help but laugh "You really have no idea do ya?"

Your mouth parted in confusion.

Did you say something wrong already?

"About what?"

A beat passed as he stared down at you, almost amused.

"About whatcha do to me, sugar"

__ __ __

The door to his bedroom closed with a soft click, and all of a sudden, you were the only two people on earth.

His eyes didn't leave you for even a second, and although you felt very much on the spot, you liked his gaze on you.

"If you change your mind at any point darlin'," he said, walking closer to you until his right hand could gently move some hair out of your face "You tell me, and I'll stop, ok?"

"mh-mh" you nodded, although you were more than sure no changing of mind would happen... God, you didn't even know how long you'd dreamed of this.

"Don't gimme that doll, use your words" he corrected you, his thumb drawing circles on your cheek "Later too"

"O-ok, yes, I-I understand"

He smiled, amused.

"there's no need to be nervous sugar, we'll go real slow ok?"

"y-yes"

He couldn't help but chuckle.

"what can I do to make it better?"

You had an immediate answer in mind. The only thing you had been able to think about since he got this close.

"Can... could you kiss me?"

Jesus H. Christ.

Joel had to fight the urge to laugh. He'd drop to his knees and lick every inch of you if you asked, and you were wondering if he could kiss you...

"I can do whatever you want, babydoll" he murmured, as he slowly leaned closer.

You placed your hands on his big strong chest as you raised yourself on your tiptoes, and before you knew it... his lips were on yours.

You were holding your breath as the sound of your beating heart pounded in your ears.

This was really happening- this was real-

But before you had time to take it all in, the sweet feeling of Joel's lips on yours, of his beard, his nose, his hands, it was like something switched, a knob turned in his brain, and Joel wasn't kissing you anymore- no, he was devouring you.

He'd tried to go as soft and slow as he could but the moment you let out a little whimper... it was like he got possessed.

The hand on the back of your neck forced you impossibly closer as the one on your waist tightened enough to bruise, and he was... his tongue was desperately savoring every inch of your perfect mouth, swallowing all your pretty sounds.

His lungs screamed for relief but breathing was the last thing on his mind.

He'd never kissed like this.

Your panties were soaked once he finally pulled away.

He was about to apologize for losing control, but by the way you were looking at him, there was nothing to be sorry about.

"I'm gonna take off your clothes now doll, ok?"

You nodded, your breathing ragged, your cheeks on fire.

With just one kiss, he'd rendered your mind an empty mess. You doubted you could remember your address at the moment.

"What did I say 'bout usin' your words?" He murmured, his thumb tracing the shape of your swollen mouth.

"Sorry," you whimpered weakly.

He wouldn't have heard you if he had been but an inch away.

"Y-yes, you can take my clothes off"

He smiled at that, leaving another soft kiss on your lips before both his hands reached underneath your shirt.

His big, warm hands detoured to caress your sides, leaving shivers in their wake, before he brought your top up until he slid it off.

His eyes fell on your tits, still covered by your bra, and he looked up at you to check if you were alright before oh so slowly undoing the clasp and letting the garment fall to the floor.

He had to stifle the groan climbing up his throat because Jesus, he wanted nothing more than to take each of your perfect fucking nipples in his mouth and suck until begged him for more...

but he didn't, he let his self-control win this time as he reached for the waistband of your shorts.

He watched like a hawk every inch of skin that he uncovered until the shorts pulled at your feet and you stepped out of them together with your sandals.

Your breathing still hadn't gotten back to normal, and every fucking inch of your skin was on fire, burning with the intensity of his gaze.

He didn't say anything as his fingers slid past the waistband of your panties and with a quick movement pulled them down, leaving you completely bare.

Not able to stop himself, he groaned this time, his hands taking a tour of your body from your collarbones, to the valley between your breasts, to your belly, until his thumbs were but an inch from where you were burning with desire for him. But he didn't touch you there, no, his hands reached your waist as he stared at you 'cause god bless his heart, but he couldn't stop looking.

He liked his lips, as if he was hungry- starving- and you let out a small whimper, realizing you had held your breath all this time.

"You're... perfect babygirl"

You prayed he wouldn't judge you when he saw the mess that had become of between your thighs.

He can't say stuff like that and expect me not to melt.

His eyes were finally back on you, and the pure lust in them almost made you gasp.

He looked like a completely different man.

"Sit on the bed"

Your brain took a second too long to register his words.

I mean it's not every day you're naked in front of Joel Miller.

Joel's old mattress creaked as you sat on it, and you stayed there, diligently frozen in your spot as he took his sweet time to come closer.

He wanted to preserve the image of you sitting on his bed, naked, waiting, looking like a damn dream, in his brain for all the lonely nights of the rest of his life.

He stood there, towering over you, looking down at you as you looked up at him, and you felt even smaller.

You were about to speak, to beg him to please do anything, touch you in any way, put you out of your misery, when he crouched down, his eyes now level with yours.

His hands found your thighs and another whimper escaped your chest.

"Spread your legs f'me, doll"

And so you did, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Good girl"

This time, it wasn't a whimper that fled your mouth, but a small little moan.

Fuck

Heat rose to your face again and you looked away, embarrassed.

Of course, you liked to be told you're a good girl.

"None of that" Joel tsked, his right pointer forcing you to look back at him "Eyes on me"

You were so turned on you wanted to cry. But you didn't, you nodded, and just like that... Joel was leaning closer and his mouth... oh god his mouth had found your neck.

You gripped the sheets as your whole body started going on fire- as his mouth left hungry wet kisses under your ear, on your pulse, on your collarbones, on your tits, and when his lips wrapped around your right nipple... when his tongue toyed with your hard bud you swore you saw heaven.

Soft little moans started spilling from your mouth as he sucked and sucked and sucked, his hands going to support your boobs, pushing them together as his mouth went from one to the other again and again until you didn't even remember what it meant to breathe like a normal person.

It felt so good.

Who knew it would feel so fucking good?

Joel only stopped when your nipples were swollen and utterly drenched with his saliva, and you were about to protest when you felt his mouth traveling south...

"Joel" you whispered.

He looked up at you with that sexy fucking smirk on his face, not stopping the trail of kisses down your belly.

"Yes, doll?"

"What are you-" your sentence was interrupted by a gasp when his lips found your mound "W-what are you doing?"

His smirk only widened as his mouth dived lower.

"I'm gonna lick your pussy now darlin'" his low and lustful voice was enough to make you orgasm alone.

You could only blink, and then swallow, and then open your mouth... just for no words to come out.

Joel chuckled before kissing your inner thigh, sending a shock of pleasure to your core.

"'s that ok with ya?"

"Yes," you heard yourself blurt out before you even knew it, which made him laugh, a soft, vibrating laugh that fanned your core and rendered you all the more desperate.

"That's good to hear" he grinned, his mouth lowering until he was kissing your lips... your other lips.

Oh Jesus Christ

You spread your legs wider to accommodate him and he hummed in approval, taking them in his hands and forcing them on his shoulders.

Oh sweet Mother of Christ

He granted himself one look at your perfect, beautiful fucking pussy, before his eyes were back on you, and his tongue darted out without warning and licked your whole core like an ice cream cone.

"Oh"

Your hips spasmed for a second but before you had time to feel embarrassed, his tongue was back in action, only this time he was eating you as if he were starving.

He groaned in pleasure at your taste as his tongue explored every inch of you he could physically reach. His nose was rubbing against your clit and his beard felt so nice against your skin and oh god if you thought you'd seen heaven before you were wrong because the moment his lips wrapped against your bud angels opened up the pearly gates for you.

"Oh my god" you cried, your left hand getting a mind of its own and grabbing Joel's soft hair "Oh my fucking- Oh wow"

This was nothing like what you'd experienced before- nothing your own fingers had ever produced, this was... so so good.

"You taste so fucking sweet sugar" he groaned into you, sending another wave of pleasure through you "y've got such a perfect lil pussy babygirl" he continued in between lapping at your core "wish I could have it for breakfast every day"

You could only moan in response, and you could feel his smile on your skin as he watched the effect he was having on you.

Goddamn, you looked like an angel biting your lip as you moaned for him, your face flushed, your hand in his hair... this was the best decision he ever made- who gave a fuck if your dad put him in the ground, at least he got to see this.

"Gonna come for me doll?" he teased once he heard your cries get louder and your grip on his hair tighten "Gonna let me taste all your sweet juices like a good girl?"

Those words, once again, had their effect because in no time your hips were grinding onto him and breathless gasps were forcing their way out your throat as the best orgasm of your life shuttered through you,

"Just like that" he praised you as you rode the high "thatta girl- give it to me baby"

You were only partially aware of where you found yourself as you came down from the orgasm.

you were breathing heavily, your eyes closed as Joel made his way up your body, his lips pecking every inch of it until he finally kissed your mouth.

"You ok darlin'?"

Your eyes opened at once, the dreamiest look in them,

"I'm great" you grinned, making him smile before he kissed you again, slowly this time, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

He only pulled away when you whined, your hands gripping his arms desperately as your body begged for more.

He sat up on the bed against the headboard, and it was then you finally realized he was still fully clothed...

You were naked from head to toe and he was still dressed... you had no idea why but that made you even hornier, which is why you hastily sat up.

"A- are we gonna do it now?"

He huffed out a laugh as his hand invited you closer.

"not quite yet sugar," he cooed as he guided you to sit on his lap, your back against his chest and your ass against... oh wow.

You could very much feel through his jeans the print of what felt like his huge cock right against your backside.

You couldn't help it, you shifted your butt, not so subtly grinding against him, and when his only response was to grab your waist, you couldn't help but do it again... and again, until you not only heard, but felt a groan rise up his chest.

"babygirl..." he murmured against your ear, making you shiver "You might wanna stop that"

You bit your lip, doing it again "Why?"

He inhaled sharply, his grip tightening "'cause baby, if you keep on goin' I'm gonna come, and you ain't gonna get what you came all this way for"

That made you want to stop and keep going at the same time.

The thought of Joel Miller coming because of you doing what you were doing...

"Don't ya even think about it sugar" He anticipated your actions as if he'd read your mind. You felt him smirk as he kissed you right under your ear.

To that you surrendered, stopping your movements at once.

He hummed, satisfied, inhaling your scent as his right hand slowly moved down your belly.

You held your breath as his fingers found your clit and his mouth your neck.

You couldn't see Joel from this position, but you didn't need to, you could feel him.

His ring and middle finger started circling your clit in a slow and precise motion and moans were already spilling from your lips.

"Joel" you breathed.

"'m right here" he promised, his voice husky, clouded by his lust.

His fingers continued their torturous path until he found your hole.

You could only gasp as his fingers dived inside of you.

Oh god.

"You ever done this to yourself doll?" he asked, his fingers thrusting in and out of you lazily.

You could both hear how unbelievably drenched you were, but that was the very last thing on your mind... what seized your attention at the moment were the sparks of pleasure Joel was igniting in your core.

"mh?" he hummed once you didn't answer, still kissing your neck.

"I-I did" you swallowed, your words interrupted by yet another cry when his fingers curled, sending much more than a spark of pleasure to your brain "Like... like twice"

"just twice?" Joel asked

"It just... it doesn't feel good"

His movements continued, making your breathing get more and more uneven.

"How does it feel now?" he accentuated his words by making whatever gesture he made that had your walls tightening around his fingers.

"G-good"

"Now that ain't gonna do" he cooed, his fingers all of a sudden leaving your core.

"B-but-" you were about to protest turning his way, but his voice took over.

"'s alright darlin', gimme your hand"

You looked down to see his hand waiting for yours, and without even thinking you did as he asked.

He placed his palm big palm on top of your hand, engulfing it, and he guided it down your body, past your belly button, until you were right where he was seconds ago.

"use these two fingers" he instructed, showing you the ones he was talking about.

"good, now get 'em all nice and wet" he murmured, guiding them through your slick folds to do just what he'd said.

You were back at your hole and your mind had stopped working.

You were just a doll, following his every instruction, watching closely his hand move yours as your core ached with desire.

"Now slide 'em in" he whispered, his honeyed voice hypnotizing.

And so you did, you pushed your ring and middle finger inside of yourself.

Why was this so fucking hot?

"Now go in and out" his words were your command, literally.

Again, the sound of your slick pussy spread through the room as you did as he asked.

"how's that feel?"

You weren't gonna lie, not to Joel.

"It's... it's ok" you breathed "Not as good as before"

He smirked, his tongue darting out to lick your pulse as his free hand traveled higher, finding your boobs.

Well of course it felt better before his fingers were two times yours.

"curl your fingers" he ordered, his palm caressing your tits "Like this," he said, showing you exactly what he meant.

He did almost like a "come here" motion, and although skeptically, you replicated it, and well... Joel Miller knew what the fuck he was talking about cause goddamn...

You cried out at the sudden burst of pleasure.

"Again"

And so you did it again, only this time, Joel's fingers had found your left nipple, and the way they toyed with it just as you fingered yourself made the feeling triplicate.

"Keep doin' that babydoll" Joel breathed, his mouth leaving hot, wet kisses on your neck and shoulders as his fingers tweaked your pretty nipples.

"just like that" he hummed as you cried out louder and louder, as you squirmed above him, your free hand gripping his thigh to have something to hold on to.

"that's it... look so pretty like this sugar" he continued "making yourself come like a good girl..."

Jesus his cock was begging for attention... this was the hottest fucking shit he'd ever seen.

Your legs were starting to close as your orgasm approached, and your voice, calling out Joel's name, was getting more and more desperate.

"so good" he groaned, his fingers pinching your nipple without warning "Y'look so perfect when you come babygirl".

That's the last thing you heard as a tsunami of pleasure overtook your whole body.

You were pretty sure you were shaking and wailing like a madwoman, but all you could really be sure of was what happened once you finally reopened your eyes.

You felt so very spent and you hadn't even done what you came here for yet.

Joel's eyes were boring into yours, his hands caressing your sides.

"Still with me?" he asked.

"Yeah," you smiled wide once again.

You felt like you were lying on a cloud, no thoughts or worries going through your head... just pure bliss.

"You still sure about this sugar?"

You had no hesitation.

"Yeah"

He smiled, kissing your lips for a brief second before leaning away.

The moment you realized he was finally taking off his clothes you were wide awake.

You sat up just as he discarded his shirt to the floor.

Je-sus.

This wasn't the first time you'd seen Joel shirtless. It wasn't a coincidence you chose to sunbathe every time he was mowing the lawn...

Yet, the breath was still knocked out of you.

He was broad, like seriously so. He was big and although you couldn't say he had a six-pack it was plain obvious the man was strong.

You didn't think it was possible, but you were getting even wetter.

You wanted nothing more than to let your palm caress his chest, the sparse hair on his pecs, the v lowering towards his pants...

Speaking of which, a gasp fled your throat the moment he took off his jeans, and by the time his boxers were off your mouth hung open in awe... and worry.

"you're..." you had to swallow to try and get some water to your dry mouth "Joel you're-- huge"

You weren't looking at him as he laughed, but at the big scary cock against his stomach bobbing with the movement.

"how would ya know, babygirl?"

You had to force yourself to look away from his manhood, and once you did, you found his gaze again.

"I... I've watched... stuff"

A side of his mouth twitched mischievously at the confession.

"Oh yeah?" he teased "My good little girl watches porn? 's that whatcha telling me?"

Why was it hot in here all of a sudden?

"N-No I just..." heat rushed to your face as you bit your lip "I-I mean-"

He laughed, cutting you off "'s ok sugar, I won't tell"

You could only offer him a little smile because to be honest, your focus was still on the reason you'd even broached the subject.

Your eyes were back on his dick, and while yes it was a worrying size, it also sparked curiosity and need deep inside of you. Which is why you moved closer to him, kneeling on the bed so that his cock was right before you.

And holy mother of God.

"Can I..."

You didn't even need to finish the sentence.

Jesus, if he were to be honest even just seeing you in this position was getting him close to coming.

"You can do whatever you want babydoll, I told ya"

You nodded, hesitantly leaning a little closer.

"I-I've never..."

"As long as my dick is in your mouth I'll be a happy man darlin'"

You gulped, biting your lip as you tried to understand where to even begin, and just then, a tiny bit of precum leaked from his manhood- so naturally, you acted on your first thought... and licked his head, tasting the tang of him.

You heard him inhale sharply as you continued licking, first just his head, then the sides, every ridge and vein... but it was only when you finally wrapped your lips around him that he lost it.

"Fuck"

He groaned like an animal and that only gave you all the more reasons to go further, forcing his dick into your mouth until it hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag.

"Fucking- Jesus Christ"

You looked up at him now, your hands finding his legs as you bobbed your head up and down, sucking so very well every inch you could fit... which was barely half.

He'd gathered your hair to the back of your head, but he wasn't guiding your movements, it was all you.

"Babydoll" he rasped, "I think that's enough"

But you didn't wanna stop. This was so hot... feeling him in your mouth, hearing him moan for you...

"Baby" he grunted "I ain't gonna be able to fuck you if I come down your throat"

Those crude words brought you back to reality... and made you even hornier.

You pulled away from his dick, letting it slap back against Joel's stomach.

"Lay down f'me"

You did, without question.

He stifled a groan at the sight, at the fucking image displayed before him once you obeyed his command and spread your legs.

Fuck.

He looked at your eyes, watching for any sign of doubt, of a second thought... but he found none.

It was then he finally took his cock in his hand, giving it a much-needed pump and making you swallow drily.

He was silent as he guided his tip to your folds, making it slide between them and catching on your clit... but you weren't.

You were letting out all sorts of little cries and whimpers and moans as he toyed with you.

But you too, fell silent once you felt him stop at your entrance.

"Mh-" you were starting to hum, biting down your lip as he began pushing inside when he suddenly stopped.

"Fuck- forgot the condom"

You blinked, trying to make sense of what had happened as he reached into his night table.

"Joel" you called for him, making him turn around, condom in hand.

"'m sorry darlin', should've remembered sooner"

But that's not what you wanted to say.

"Joel can we..." you gulped "can we not-- use it?"

He frowned as his dick damn near exploded.

You wanted him to fuck you raw?

"Jesus sweetheart you tryna kill me today or somethin'?"

You smiled, your hands fidgeting.

"N-no I just... this is my first time... I- I wanted to feel it, y'know?" you murmured "A-and I'm clean and if you... if you use it with all the other women then you must be clean too, so..."

Joel had the urge to laugh.

"That ain't what 'm worried about, pretty doll"

It was one thing your dad finding out he'd fucked you... a different thing if he'd fucking got you pregnant.

Your mouth formed an o shape as you remembered.

"O-Oh no, I-I'm on the pill"

I shouldn't do this.

There's still a risk.

I'm old enough to be her father I shouldn't be doing this for countless different reasons.

I shouldn't.

I really fucking shouldn't.

And yet Joel had already gotten rid of the condom and had made his way on top of you.

You smiled before he kissed you, taking away all the oxygen from your lungs.

"I need you to relax now sugar" he murmured, his hand guiding his dick to your entrance once again.

"O-ok" you nodded, feeling the very tip of him push inside you.

"Just like that" he praised, kissing you again "Doing so well f'me"

It burned.

The stretch got more and more demanding as he tried to push himself deeper into you.

"Ah!" you gasped, your hands gripping his biceps as he kissed your neck.

"I know baby, I know"

"I-it's big" you cried, planting your feet on the mattress to try and ground you.

"You want me to stop?" he asked, looking you in the eyes, although yours were shut close.

"N-no" you shook your head "I just... " you hissed from the pain as he slid in an inch further.

"You can do it babygirl" he whispered, still planting kisses everywhere he could reach.

"B-but it's too big" you whimpered desperately as he still kept going. It felt interminable.

"Don't ya worry 'bout it honey" he said, moving some hair out of your face "I'm gonna make it fit"

That got him the first little moan of pleasure, which coincided with you letting him get an inch deeper.

"Yeah you like that?" he cooed "You like the idea of me filling you up with my cock to the very brim?"

You moaned again, louder.

"I know you do sugar." one of his hands had traveled between your bodies to find your clit, making you cry out even louder "Want nothing more than to be full of me, do ya?"

"'s ok sweetie, we're almost there" he promised, his breath sending shivers up your spine "You're taking me so well... letting me stretch this perfect little pussy for the very first time..."

It still burned, but the worst was done, and his words were making you forget half the pain.

"such a good girl" he cooed "There we go, like that, lemme in babygirl... fuck"

You'd done it.

"Oh my god" you gasped.

You felt utterly and completely full, like your body had been missing a part of it all this time.

"Joel" you cried, your grip on his arms tightening.

"You ok sugar?" he asked, although you could hear the restraint in his voice.

"Yes" you breathed opening your eyes to look at him "Yes please do- do something"

He smirked as he gave you a quick kiss.

"I'm gonna start moving now, ok?"

You nodded hastily "Y-yes- please".

And so what could he do, if not exactly what you'd asked?

He retracted his hips just to thrust in again, and... wow.

"O-Oh my god" you cried, as he did it again, finding a slow and oh so very deep pace.

He was rolling his hips, grinding against your pelvis every time he trusted in, making fireworks explode in your body.

"Fuck, doll" he groaned, his pace quickening "Y'feel so good... so tight for me"

You could only moan at his words, your legs wrapping around him.

"it's like you were made for my cock" he said, staring at you although your eyes were closed.

He didn't want to miss even a second of this.

"To let me fuck you like you need" he hissed, having to refrain himself from coming too soon.

That had been a danger since the very first inch of him had entered you.

You just felt so fucking good.

"You're such a good girl baby, y've got no idea" he groaned, kissing and licking your neck "Taking me so well"

"J-Joel!" you basically screamed once the fingers on your clit resumed their work.

"I know baby" he cooed, continuing to fuck you thoroughly "I know it's a lot, but you can take it"

The sound of your skin slapping with his bounced off the walls with each thrust together with the creaks of the mattress.

"I-I- Joel" you kept on crying, your breathing getting more and more ragged as your belly tightened expecting the approaching orgasm.

"what is it darlin'?" he purred, "need me to fuck you harder, softer?" he murmured "Tell me what you want and I'll give it to ya baby"

"M-more"

He could only smirk as he picked up his pace, now slamming into you harder, feeling your walls tighten with each thrust.

"Oh god- O-Oh shit--"

"C'mon doll," Joel groaned as your nails dug into his skin "Be a good girl and come for me- let me feel you come around my cock"

He didn't even need to ask.

"like that" he rasped as your eyes shut tight and you cried as loud as your vocal chord permitted "Just like that- good fucking girl"

Each molecule of your body rearranged itself as the orgasm overtook your body, mind, and soul.

You were sure you had ascended to another universe, the only thing that grounded you was Joel's words as he reached his own peak.

"Fuck doll, 'm gonna come" he grunted " 'm gonna fill you up babygirl- like that- take it sugar-- take it all"

It took a long while for you to gain back consciousness, and when you did, you found yourself lying under Joel's blanket, his hand gently drawing patterns on your arm as he... he was watching you.

"There she is"

You could only find it in yourself to smile as you leaned closer to him, leaving a soft, quick kiss on his lips.

"Thank you, Joel"

[layaispunk]

HOLY MOLYYYYYY

[littledes1re]

Neighbours help

Pairing: Neighbour!Joel Miller x Fem!reader

Summery: when your Fridge breaks down in the middle of the day, what can you do other than ask your grumpy old Neighbour to fix it? aka thigh riding🫠

Warnings: 18+, praise kink, pet names, teasing, fingering, slight overstimulation, thigh riding, MEAN!joel, but a softie at the end, big age gap! (reader is 25-26/ joel is 60), kinda naive!reader, Dom/sub undertones, somewhat pervy!joel, mocking, joel embarrasses reader, reader get’s called dumb little girl twice, reader is really sensitive and cries in this, slight darcyphilia

A/N: I know nothing about repairing fridges y‘all. Also english is not my first language, feedback is very much appreciated. First time writing a bigger fic piece, bare with me please😭

Watching your neighbour sit down on your table after trying to fix the fridge in your apartment. His reading glasses on, looking trough the little instructions book that came with your fridge, a grumpy huff leaves his mouth. Your eyes fall to his white scruffy mustache and beard and then to his slicked back hair.

He looked so old— he was old.

Too old for you to sit there and stare at him while clenching your tights. But could you blame yourself? Grumpy face, pinched eyebrows, that tall and big build, his big biceps (you saw him once in a tight shirt in summer and your breath hitched), his ability to take everything into his hands and the stern demanding personality.

„What‘cha staring at, girl.“ he grumbled, clearly annoyed, his brown eyes landing on you.

Well, one contra point was, that he was so mean to you. Always rolling his eyes, a sigh leaving his lips, seeing you in the floor to your apartment, always having something rude to say even if it‘s mumbled under his breath. Always so impatient, never saying thank you and thinking he knows everything better than you. You tried your best to be nice and friendly to him, but he just didn‘t want you around, grumpy, irritated and so god damn—

„cat got‘ya tongue?“

You came back to your senses, realising you just have been staring at him like a fish out of water, mouth gaped and focused just on one spot. A little breath left your mouth, then a cough. Trying your best to be annoyed with him, you rolled your eyes.

„N-no. I‘m just waiting for you to finally do my fridge“ putting an attitude, but failing miserably because you were so so nervous around him.

„Can just leave, whenever I want y‘know…“ he starts „leaving you there with your rotten food in your fridge because we both know you can‘t fix it yourself, didn‘t even try it yourself, before coming up to my door bein‘ all ‚joel this‘ ‚joel that‘“

Oh he sounds so annoyed. But you can‘t help but feel more turned on than you already are, just the way he mocks you and knows that you can‘t talk back at him because you need your fridge to work again. He has a stern face on while he watches you, the little book lying on the palm of his huge hands. Your eyes slowly wander to his legs and torso, the way his lap looks so huge and so comfortable for sitting.

He coughed.

Your whole face turning red, you just wanted to crumble and roll into a ball so he didn‘t see you anymore. The worst of it all, his eyes landed on your tights and he saw the way you clenched them. There was no doubt he understood what was happening and you needed to get a grip and stop with those weird thoughts.

„Come over here and make yourself useful, c‘mon“

You stood up, your legs wobbling and the your silky short pyjama wasn‘t helping as he stared down your torso his lips forming into a little smirk, making you question his motives, scared that he will make fun of you again or worse, just straight up ask you what you want from him.

Standing besides the table you looked at him, trying your best not to look nervous and but it was all crumbling as he shifted in his seat and parted his legs just more, leaning into the chair and tapping on his thigh. Was he teasing you?

„C‘mere read this to me“ he tapped on his thigh again and your mouth dropped open. You looked at his smug face and then his thigh, not knowing that to do.

„Y‘have better eyes than me, girl“

So you moved around, holding on into his board shoulders, looking into his eyes and sat down on his lap. His hands gripping you, holding you tightly to make you sit comfortably, you moved a little bit, feeling his buldge underneath you grow. You don‘t even know what you were doing. As you comfortably sat down and grew silent, looking into his face, his eyes scanned your body, eyebrows pinching and he started…laughing.

„Dumb little girl, seeing a mans lap and immediately wanting to sit on it. Completely forgetting that I asked you to read this, huh?“‘

He held the book up, swaying it from left to right in front of you. Your face heat up again, blood rushing trough you because of what he called you. You couldn‘t help but buck your hips slightly, your panties earning a wave of gush, making him chuckle because now it was visible, your shorts were incredibly thin.

„oh i know. I know, baby. C‘mon turn around and read this f‘me will you?“ he cooed, making your shoulders drop your bottom lip turning into a pout and your inside‘s into mush. He rubbed down your back and pat slightly on to your bum, making you stand up again. Breathing heavy you stood there and looked at him, completely dumbfounded, not used to being handled like that.

He grabbed your hips again, sitting you down this time the right side, so the table was in front of you. His legs were together and you sat on top of them, your legs dangling from the sides and his head coming on your left side nuzzling into your neck, prepping few light kisses on your jaw and neck. The heat between your legs just growing more and more, feeling yourself get desperate for every touch he gives, getting dizzy at his smell and the beard tickling on your neck.

„There’s something written here in small print, my eyes not been the same the last 10 years, girl. Can make out what it says hm?“

His talking right into your ear sending shivers down your back, you wanting to just nuzzle into him more, not wanting to read and not wanting him to tease you anymore.

„mhm. S-says…—that it can happen that if too much food is in there, it can get too cold and it shuts it self down.“ you mumbled, your voice coming out small and shaky, even tho you didn‘t want it to be. Yes, he was making you feel absolutely feral but you still felt stubbornless, didn‘t wanna give in so easily but your body was betraying you. His buldge was just growing more and more against you. Pressing up into your wet panties, slowly but surely getting you off with just small movements on your clit.

Biting back a whimper, a moan, everything.

„Look at ya, can think well and do something you get told when you want it huh?“

You didn‘t answer, his hands on your body exploring your chest, rubbing circles everywhere, going down to your tummy, the warmth making you feel too much, you start to slightly move on his buldge, a whimper leaving your lips, another gush soaking your panties.

And he just laughs. Fucking laughs and goes back with his chair, suddenly removing his hands and you almost fell into the ground, holding tightly on the table, legs shaky and breathing heavily. You turn around angry, wanting to punch that smugness off his face. You felt embarrassment running trough your body, anger, but also a pulse on your clit, hating yourself for that, your body betraying you once more.

Feeling defeated you just looked at him, the fabric of your shorts now clinging with the wetness of your undies, totally visible. Tears coming up, trying your best to suppress them, that‘s what he wanted wasn‘t it? Just making fun of you for wasting his time like that, he couldn‘t stand you and you totally got off to that.

„Oh, poor baby.“ he mockingly coos, „standing there all embarrassed, with soaked panties and tears in your eyes.“

„Can y-you just go? you already did enough.“ you mumbled, deep down hoping for him not to go, to really mean it and to take care of you. But he wasn‘t that kind of man.

At least you thought so.

Suddenly his hands reached for the hem of your shorts, looking into your eyes a unexpected curiosity and genuineness. His eyebrows quirked up, like he was asking for permission, the room fell silent and he waited patiently for your answer. You could not longer take it, so you nodded your head.

His hand gripped your shorts and pulled them down, your hands coming and gripping his shoulders to balance yourself. He helped you get away from them and as you stood there with only your panties he took a good look at you, his glasses slowly sliding down the bridge of his nose as he enjoyed the sight.

„yeah, you need this“ he mumbled, suddenly thumbing at your mound over your undies, making you a whine leave you. You latch on to his shoulders just more, your shaky legs not knowing how to act as he rubs little circles on top of your clit.

„p-please. Just please“ you whimper.

„Begging an old man to take care of you, aren‘t you ashamed huh?“

You shook your head, no. Because everything was just forgotten but his fingers on your heat. He cupped your pussy, slowly sliding your underwear down, big string of sticky wetness leaving you, as you held your breath.

„God damn it, girl. Dripping like a faucet.“

Nodded your head impatiently, his gaze fixed on your pussy, while his one hand was palming himself trough his jeans.

„Just needed someone to treat her like the dumb little girl she is and she starts to absolutely gush.“

His words were spinning inside your head, the pleasure was too much to bare, you could almost feel yourself coming from his words alone, the tears and embarrassment long forgotten, you just wanted him.

„Sit down, not gonna repeat myself. That‘s all you will get“ he told you, stern, tapping on his thigh. You pouted, not liking the tone of his voice and not wanting only his thigh but his cock.

You slowly sat down on his thigh, him allowing you to get comfortable, your hands on his biceps, his hands on your waist stabilising you. After you sat down you could finally could take a good look at his face. The age spots, all those wrinkles, big puppy brown eyes and his beautiful white hair. You neared your hand to his glasses and slowly took them off, closing them and putting it on the table. His smugness was gone, but his eyebrows were still pinched, he still looked mean and grumpy.

While your juices soaked his thigh he cupped your cheek, wiping the almost dried out tears away, giving you a kiss on top of your forehead. You pouted, wanting him to kiss you on the lips, but he shook his head.

„Gonna give you something to pout about, if you don‘t stop. Y‘just need to get this little pussy off and that‘s all what i‘m gonna give you. Not want your annoying little ass anywhere near my apartment anymore, s‘that clear?“

The pout on your lip going away, a sting on your heart appears. He was just a mean man. He didn‘t want you and he still found you annoying. But that was quickly forgotten, as the pleasure was not longer to bare, you would take everything he gives you at this point.

„Uh-huh“ you nodded your head, but him noticing your disappointment also.

„Yeah, s‘a good girl.“ his hands gripped your hips, slowly but surely he started to move you on his thigh. The rough and textured jeans on your swollen pussy felt just right. You mewled; biting down on his jacket, his lips grazing on your temple „shhh, shh“ calming you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, suddenly becoming soft and sweet to you.

„please.“ you whisper, not even knowing what you are begging for.

„so desperate aren‘t ya, sweet girl. That no enough for you hm, my thigh?“ he coos, shaking your head fastly, scared that he will take away his thigh and leave you high and dry so it‘s better to just take his thigh and get off. In which he chuckled, while rubbing all over your back, your ass and stroking your hair simultaneously.

„joel..“ a whimper.

Your hips started to buck uncontrollably, chasing your high, while he helped you with his hands, holding your ass tightly, kneading it. You didn‘t had the courage to look at him, your eyes were squeezed shut as sweet little moans fell from your lips. Joel was concentrating on not to cum in his pants like a teenager, his gaze was on your face. Enjoying the way you were getting off, cheeks flushed, eyes all swollen you looked troughly fucked and he didn‘t even give you his cock. Yet.

„little pussy all rubbed raw and swollen…“ he murmed and this was all it took for you to release all over him. Gushing down his thigh, your legs shaking and moaning so loudly that joel put his hand on your head and brought you to his shoulder so you could bite down.

„That‘s it, that‘s it. Atta girl.“

You were a whimpering mess as he let you rode out your orgasm, stroking your hair and tapping his thigh.

„Was a good one, hm? Yeah that was a good one, baby.“

You mewled loudly, telling him to stop tapping with his leg on your pussy, earning a little chuckle from him, his leg slowing down.

„Too much, eh? So sensitive sweetheart.“

The room fell silent as you buried your head into his chest, small breaths leaving your mouth, his hands soothingly storking your back, noticing your sweet breaths just becoming slower and slower, knowing you fell quietly asleep on him.

Smiling to himself, his cock was stiff hard, leaking in his pants, knowing he will get off to this scene later in his room. Just like you always do, moaning his name and getting off. The wall were thin.

I think this picture with the glasses left us all in shambles✋🏻 reblogs are appreciated!! <3

[garden0fyves]

thinking about… your older boyfriend, joel who you’ve yet to be intimate with. joel knows you’re a virgin and that scares him, he isn’t some virgin killer. he’s old and his back and knees ache when he stands. but, when you tell him you’re ready something inside him changes. you’re all doe eyed, a soft pout on your lips as you look up at him. “fuck me, please?” the sudden lilt to your voice, the desperation leaking from your words. joel’s never been this turned on in his life.

suddenly, he forgets the guilt of being your first. he forgets all of those things he’s been nervous about. all he can think of taking care of his princess, eating your cunt and making sure you’re properly stretched before he presses his fat cock into your tight pussy. all he can think about is the way your lips part, the way your eyes glaze over and your body warms. the way your nails dig into his back and desperate whines of his name fall from those kiss-bitten lips. “you feel so good, joel. please- dunno what i want, baby just please!” and who is he to deny you?

joel presses a rough finger to your cunt, trying his best to not cum inside of you just from how wet his finger gets from the action. he admires the way your pretty pussy flutters around him at the action because this is new to you. you’ve never felt this before, never had this perfect pussy fucked. and now you were all his. his sweet, dirty girl. “you’re doing so good. so fuckin’ good.” his rough voice whispers against your wet lips. your back arches from the praise and your lips brush just slightly. “y’feel so good, daddy. never- ohhh fuck! never knew it’d be this good. should’ve let you fuck me sooner.”

joel stiffens at your words. his free hand tightens on your hip and his eyes squeeze shut. he’s not strong enough for this. he’s old and you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever had. “sweetheart.” he grumbles, brown eyes opening to meet yours. despite the tears in your eyes you could see the pain and pleasure on joel’s face. your lips pull into a weak smile. “i mean it, joel.” you purr, fingers curling into his hair. “would’ve been ready sooner if i knew you’d take such good care of me.” your voice is breathy and despite the smell of sex filling the air, joel’s so close that he can still smell your warm vanilla perfume.

you smell so fucking good, your cunt feels so good, and the way your lips look while you’re talking—it’s driving him crazy. joel leans down to press his lips against yours in the sweetest kiss he can muster. everything about you currently is sinful. his thoughts are disgusting and it’s all because of you. “joel, baby, dunno- oh my god!” your words are gasped against his mouth. your pussy flutters and your tummy clenches, there’s this newfound pressure seated deep in your pelvis that you’ve never felt before. your body’s practically urging you to pull away from joel, but another part of you wants him to fuck you harder and deeper.

“gonna cum, joel! fuck me harder please please please!” joel thinks you’re being needy, but he remembers you’ve never done this before. he moans against your lips at the sudden reminder that this is your first time, he’s your first. the first to be in this pussy. god, he must’ve been a saint in his past life. joel fucks into you with a new sense of urgency. he wants to watch you fall apart. he wants to see what faces you make when you cum on his dick. how you look when you do something reserved for him—only him. “pretty fuckin’ girl, go ahead. cum for me, sweetheart.”

your orgasm passes through you in a flash of white light. your body’s on fire and your pussy’s clenching tighter than you’d known possible from yourself. joel watches you cum with a burning feeling in his chest. your eyes slam shut and your lips part, though the only thing that passes them is his name. your body’s so fucking warm, so fucking tight. and as he takes in the sight he finds himself cumming deep inside of you. you’d clenched so tight that he could barely move, so tight joel could have only imagined this. your hands claw at his back as your orgasm continues through his. your eyes flutter open just to catch joel’s face as he cums.

his brows are furrowed and eyes barely open so he could watch you. “you’re so good to me.” you breath softly, sniffling as your orgasms subsides. joel chuckles, something low and husky. he kisses the tears from your cheeks before pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips. “you make it easy to be, sweetheart.”

[st4rfckerz]

joel just wants you to go to sleep.

Joel hadn’t planned on taking you with him when he fled the last city. Hell, he barely had a plan for himself, let alone anyone else. He’d meant to slip out quietly, same as always—no ties, no mess. But when it came down to it, and you were standing along the side of the road, looking half-lost and way too stubborn for your own good, he couldn’t just leave you there. As much as he told himself it wasn’t his problem, that you’d slow him down or get yourself killed, something about walking away didn’t sit right. So now here you were—stuck with him, and he was just as thrilled about it as you’d expect.

Night fell fast, and with it came the kind of quiet that made Joel uneasy. He found a run-down motel off the main road—vacant, dusty, and barely holding itself together, but it was shelter. The room only had one bed, a king-sized relic with sunken springs and stale sheets, but it was better than the floor. Joel didn’t say much, just dropped his pack by the door and lay down without complaint. You followed suit, careful to leave a respectful amount of space between you, not too close but not miles apart either. It wasn’t cozy; it was practical. Just two people trying to get through the night.

Everything was fine—silent, still, until the heat started pooling low in your stomach, spreading like wildfire through your limbs. It hit fast and hard, unsettling and unfamiliar, and suddenly the bed felt too warm, the air too thick. You shifted once, trying to get comfortable. Then again. And again. No matter how you moved, the restlessness only grew, a tight, buzzing energy under your skin that wouldn’t settle. You tried to be quiet about it, tried not to draw attention, but your body had other plans

Joel let out a low, tired sigh, the kind that said he’d been trying to ignore it for as long as he could. Then he turned toward you, voice rough and laced with irritation. “What’re you doin’?” he muttered.

You froze for a second, caught in the middle of another restless shift. “I don’t know,” you kept your voice low. “Can’t get comfortable I guess.” You stared up at the ceiling, hoping that was enough of an answer, hoping he wouldn’t press further—even though you could feel his eyes still on you in the dark.

“You guess?” he echoed, the words thick with skepticism. You didn’t say anything in response, the restlessness still bubbling inside you, but the words just didn’t feel right.

Joel let out another frustrated sigh, rubbing his face with one hand. “Just…go to sleep,” he muttered, clearly done with the whole thing. “You’re not gonna get any rest if you keep at it.” He turned away from you, pulling the blanket up higher, as if to shut down the conversation for good.

Time dragged on, the silence of the room only broken by the occasional creak of the motel’s old walls. But that annoying buzzing feeling didn’t leave. It was still there, pulsing beneath your skin, spreading relentlessly. You tried to ignore it, to force yourself to sleep, but the more you fought it, the worse it got.

You couldn’t take it anymore, so you decided to take care of it. Unbeknownst to Joel, you began to slowly, cautiously slip a hand down the front of your pants, your heart starting to race as your fingers brushed against the growing heat between your legs. You bit your lip to stifle a soft gasp, not wanting to disturb Joel again.

It was all Joel’s fault. He had no idea, of course, but everything about him made it impossible to stay calm. The way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention, or the deep, gravelly tone of his voice when he spoke; it did things to you that you couldn’t shake.

Your breathing grew heavier and more labored as you began to work on your clit, your fingers working with increasing urgency between your legs. Then, out of nowhere, the lamp snapped on, flooding the room with harsh, orange light. Joel’s voice came out concerned, almost frantic.

“Hey, hey what’s the pro-”

But as he turned toward you, his gaze fell, and for a moment, his words caught in his throat. He froze, seeing your hand, hidden beneath your pants. A silence stretched between you two, thick and tense, as the realization hit him. Your heart skipped a beat, panic rising in your chest as you quickly yanked your hand out from under your underwear, eyes wide.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammered, face flushing hot with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean- it’s not-” The words tumbled out in a flurry, but they didn’t make much sense. All you could focus on was the sudden weight of the moment, the heat in your cheeks, and how you just wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear.

Joel blinked, clearly caught off guard, but then he let out a quiet breath and raised his hands slightly, palms out. “I-it’s okay,” he said, his voice low, steady, trying to calm you down. “You don’t gotta apologize.” He didn’t move closer, didn’t look away either, just kept his tone even. “Wasn’t tryin’ to scare you or nothin’. I just thought…somethin’ was wrong.”

You just stared at him, like a deer caught in headlights. You didn’t say anything, just looked at him like you were waiting for him to scold you, or worse, get up and leave.

Joel let out a long, tired sigh, dragging a hand down his face. He glanced over at you again, something unreadable in his expression. “Alright,” he muttered, voice low. “How ‘bout this—you let me help, and then maybe you’ll finally get some sleep, okay?”

You hesitated for a moment, heart pounding, eyes still locked on his. Then, slowly, you gave a small nod, unsure but willing, trusting him more than you trusted whatever was happening inside you.

Joel watched you for a second longer, then gave a short nod of his own. “Lie back.” His tone was steady—firm, but not unkind as he shifted slightly, waiting for you to move. Joel's calloused fingers grasped the waistband of your pants, his touch sending a shiver up your spine as he slowly, methodically peeled the fabric down your legs. He took his time, his eyes never leaving your face, watching as your breathing grew more ragged with each inch of skin he revealed. As the pants slid past your knees and pooled around your ankles, Joel paused, his gaze fell upon the prominent wet spot darkening the fabric of your underwear. Joel's eyes widened slightly. “Jesus Christ,” his voice a low, almost reverent whisper.

He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly feeling tight as he drank in the sight before him. The lamp light cast a warm glow across your exposed skin, highlighting the way your chest rose and fell with each shaky breath you took. A low, almost inaudible groan rumbled in Joel's chest as he reached out with a tentative hand, his thumb brushing against the damp fabric covering your throbbing cunt. He could feel the heat radiating through the thin material, could sense the way your body shuddered slightly at his touch. Slowly, deliberately, Joel watched with hooded eyes as he worked the damp spot, his thumb gradually soaking through the fabric.

“S’that where you need me?” Joel asked, his voice just barely above a whisper, yet it seemed to echo in the charged silence of the room.

Joel's eyes darkened as your breathy “Yes” floated through his ears. With that, he tugged your panties to the side. The cool air of the room kissed your slick, heated skin, making you gasp. Joel's eyes locked onto your exposed cunt, taking in the glistening, swollen lips and the way your entrance subtly fluttered eagerly. He couldn't resist the urge to run a single finger through the slick, gathering the wetness that clung to your folds.

Unable to hold back any longer, Joel pressed a single thick finger into your pussy. He groaned at the way your walls clenched around the intrusion, drawing him in deeper. Slowly, he began to pump his finger in and out, eventually adding another.

“Joel…” you whined as Joel's fingers worked themselves inside you, your hips instinctively bucking up to try and find something more.

“Shh, I know, I know,” Joel rumbled, his deep voice sending vibrations through your body. His big hand rested heavily on your hip, this thumb gently stroking your skin. Joel's fingers pumped faster, plunging deeper into your soaked, clenching cunt.

Suddenly, Joel's fingers curled just right, brushing against a spot that made you arch off the bed with a sharp cry. Your inner muscles clamped down around him like a vice, fluttering wildly.

“S’that the spot? Yeah?” Joel presses you with a slick grin plastered across his face. Your breath came in short, sharp gasps, each exhale punctuated by a breathy moan that grew louder and more desperate with each passing second. “Yeah I know it is.”

With a final, keening cry of Joel's name, you came undone, your body convulsing as you cum all over his fingers.

As you floated down from the heights of your intense orgasm, Joel's hand gently brushed the sweat-dampened curls from your face. “There you go,” Joel murmured, his deep voice a low, soothing rumble. He brushed a stray tear from the corner of your eye with the pad of his thumb, the gesture surprisingly gentle.

“Now get some sleep.”

Your body felt lighter, your mind quiet for the first time that night. You didn’t say anything—didn’t need to. You just let your eyes slip closed as the calm finally took hold.

[junojoel]

Dancing is a Dangerous Game

Joel Miller x Reader, 9.4k

Summary: You need to escape the city, Joel needs help on his ranch. Despite the differences in your lifestyles, cowboy Joel teaches you the ways of the land.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, unprotected piv, creampie, THEN oral (f!receiving), outdoor sex, joel is a widower, sorry i accidentally made it really sad, joel is also soft for reader, and a romantic

this is the product of me playing stardew valley and reading the pumpkin spice cafe. enjoy :)

The city had a way of hollowing a person out.

You realised it the morning you woke up with your cheek pressed against your desk, a half-finished cover letter stuck to your forearm, and the acidic tang of stale coffee burning your throat. Four years of late-night study sessions, unpaid internships, and networking events had earned you a shiny degree and absolutely no idea what to do with it.

The job offers were there if you wanted them. Cubicle farms with fluorescent lighting and managers who'd call you "honey" in meetings. Apartment leases with paper-thin walls and neighbours who played bass-heavy music at 3am. A life measured in subway delays and happy hours that weren't happy at all.

So when you found the ad for Miller Ranch buried in the classifieds—Help needed. Room and board. Quiet place for quiet souls—you didn't overthink it. You packed your duffel, left a vague note for your roommate, and pointed your car west until the skyscrapers melted into golden fields.

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The ranch wasn't what you expected.

You'd imagined something from a postcard—red barns, cheerful horses, maybe a friendly dog trotting up to greet you. Instead, you found a sprawling property that looked like it had been wrestled from the earth itself. The main house was all rough-hewn logs and a sagging porch, the wood weathered silver by decades of sun. A few outbuildings dotted the land, their roofs patched with rusted tin. And beyond it all, endless stretches of pasture fading into shadowy pines.

You were still sitting in your car, gripping the steering wheel, when the screen door creaked open.

He moved like the land did. Slow, deliberate, utterly unconcerned with anyone else's pace. Broad shoulders filled the doorway, his faded flannel rolled up to reveal forearms corded with muscle and scars. His beard was more grey than brown, his hair just long enough to curl at the nape of his neck. But it was his eyes that caught you: dark, assessing, the kind of eyes that had seen too much to be impressed easily.

He studied you with dark eyes that missed nothing. Your clean sneakers, your manicured nails, the way you squinted against the sunlight like you'd never truly seen it before.

"You lost?" His voice was rougher than you expected, like gravel under tires.

You lifted your chin. "Are you Joel Miller?"

"You the one who called about workin' here?" His voice was gravel wrapped in velvet, the kind of sound that settled low in your stomach.

You swallowed. "Yeah. I, uh—I emailed last week."

He didn't smile. Just nodded once and stepped aside. "Better come in, then."

You learned fast that Joel Miller didn't waste words.

He showed you the ropes in silence—how to check the fence lines for breaks, how to tell if a horse was favouring a leg, which tools to use when a storm knocked a branch through the chicken coop roof. His hands were always moving, always working, rough fingers handling everything with a care that surprised you.

"You ever done any of this before?" he asked on your third day, watching you struggle to coil a rope properly.

You wiped sweat from your brow. "Does petting a pony at a county fair count?"

A huff. Not quite a laugh, but close. "Guess we're startin' from scratch, then."

He didn't baby you, though. When you spilled a bucket of grain, he made you sweep it up. When you misread the clouds and left the hay bales uncovered before a downpour, you spent the next afternoon hauling soggy bundles to the compost. But he never yelled. Never made you feel stupid. Just showed you, again and again, until your hands stopped shaking and your muscles stopped burning.

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You found him in the kitchen at 2 AM, the old percolator hissing on the stove.

"Couldn't sleep?" you asked, lingering in the doorway.

He didn't turn around. "Old habit. Used to take night shifts checkin' the herds."

You padded closer, the wooden floor cool under your bare feet. The kitchen smelled like coffee and cinnamon—he'd been baking earlier, you realized. There was still flour dusting the counter.

"Mind if I join you?"

A pause. Then he reached into the cabinet for a second mug.

You sat at the scarred oak table while he poured, the steam curling between you. Outside, the wind whispered through the pines.

"City girl like you," he said suddenly, sliding the coffee toward you. "What made you come out here?"

You wrapped your hands around the mug, letting the heat seep into your skin. "Needed to remember what quiet sounded like."

"Why'd you really come out here, darlin'?"

The endearment slipped out so naturally you almost missed it.

You watched the horizon lighten from black to deep blue. "I think... I needed to prove I could."

His knuckles brushed yours as he reached for the bottle. Neither of you moved away.

For the first time, Joel looked at you—really looked at you. And you saw something flicker in his gaze, something warm and understanding.

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The sky turned the colour of a fresh bruise an hour before the twister touched down.

You were repairing the chicken coop roof when the wind kicked up, sending your hammer tumbling into the dirt. The air felt charged, like the moment before a lightning strike.

Joel's shout carried across the yard. "Get to the cellar! Now!"

You'd never seen him run before. He moved like a man possessed, boots pounding the hard-packed earth as he closed the distance between you. His arm hooked around your waist just as the first hailstone struck your shoulder, a marble-sized bullet of ice that left your skin throbbing.

The storm cellar doors groaned in protest as Joel wrenched them open. Damp, cool air rushed up to meet you as he practically carried you down the stairs.

Darkness.

Then the single bulb flickered to life, revealing shelves of canned goods, emergency supplies, and, oddly, a stack of well-loved paperbacks.

"You okay?" Joel's hands were suddenly everywhere, tilting your chin up to check your pupils, running down your arms to inspect for injuries, his touch clinical yet somehow intimate.

"I'm fine," you breathed, though your heart was trying to escape your chest. "Just... just scared."

The admission hung between you as the storm raged overhead. The bulb flickered again, then died completely, plunging you into blackness.

Joel's voice came from closer than you expected. "Ain't nothin' in this world can hurt you while I'm here."

You reached out blindly, your fingers finding the rough denim of his shirt. His breath hitched as you fisted the fabric.

Somewhere above, the world was ending. Here in the dark, something was beginning.

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The cellar doors groaned as Joel shouldered them open, releasing you both into a world transformed. Dawn painted the ravaged landscape in pale gold, revealing the storm's cruel artistry. A century-old oak now lay uprooted across the north pasture, its massive roots clawing at the sky like skeletal fingers. Fence posts had been plucked from the earth and scattered like straws, barbed wire curling in dangerous spirals across the mud. The chicken coop roof had taken flight, landing thirty yards away in a splintered heap.

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose, the sound more weary than angry. He rotated his left shoulder unconsciously—the old injury from a mustang bucking him off always acted up before rain.

"Gonna need to—"

"Check the livestock first," you finished.

His eyebrows lifted slightly. Two months ago you'd asked if cattle could swim during a flash flood. Now you knew ranch priorities.

The work was brutal. By noon, your shirt clung to your back with a mixture of sweat and residual storm humidity. Joel moved with relentless efficiency, his forearms corded with muscle as he wrestled fence posts back into alignment. You watched the way his wedding band caught the sunlight when he wiped his brow, the silver chain glinting against his sun-darkened skin.

At the third post, your blisters burst.

You didn't make a sound, but Joel's head snapped up like he'd heard something. His eyes dropped to your hands, where blood seeped through the leather work gloves.

"Goddammit." He was in front of you in three strides, peeling the ruined gloves off with surprising gentleness. His thumb brushed the raw flesh of your palm, and you hissed involuntarily.

Joel's mouth tightened. "Should've said something."

"You would've told me to toughen up."

"Would've told you to take a damn break." He rummaged in his saddlebag for the medical kit he always carried. The antiseptic stung, but his hands were steady as he wrapped your palms in gauze. "Stubborn city girl."

The way he said it sounded almost like praise.

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The next week passed in a haze of exhaustion and unexpected discoveries.

You learned that:

A properly sharpened axe sings through wood with a sound like a breath being released

Joel's coffee preferences involved exactly two sugar cubes (never spoonfuls)

Your body could ache in places you didn't know existed

Each evening, Joel would appear at your elbow with some new remedy; a salve made from beeswax and lavender for your sunburn, a stretch to ease the knot between your shoulder blades, a cold beer pressed into your hand with a quiet "You earned it."

Tonight, you found him at the workbench, repairing a bridle by lantern light. The golden glow softened the lines of his face, catching the silver strands in his beard. He didn't look up as you approached, but his shoulders relaxed slightly when you set a fresh cup of coffee beside him—two sugars.

"Thanks." His voice was rough from disuse.

You leaned against the bench, close enough to smell leather and the faint cedar scent of his soap. "Show me?"

Joel's hands stilled. For a heartbeat, you thought he'd refuse. Then he shifted, making space for you at his side.

"Watch close," he murmured, his shoulder pressing against yours as he demonstrated the intricate stitch. His fingers moved with practiced ease, the needle flashing in the lamplight. "This part's gotta be tight enough to hold, loose enough to flex."

You tried to focus on the technique, but his proximity made concentration impossible. The heat radiating from his body, the way his breath stirred your hair when he leaned in to correct your grip—

The needle slipped.

"Shit." A bead of blood welled on your thumb.

Joel reacted before you could, catching your wrist. His calloused thumb brushed the droplet away, his mouth set in a hard line. "Ain't paying you to bleed on my tack."

But he didn't let go.

The lantern flickered, casting long shadows across the barn wall—two silhouettes frozen in the amber light, fingers intertwined.

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Betty the nanny goat had taken a disliking to you from day one.

Today, she'd decided to escalate hostilities.

"You're gonna want to—" Joel's warning came too late as you bent to refill the water trough.

Betty's horns connected with your backside with the precision of a missile strike. The world tilted violently as you face-planted into the mud, the entire herd erupting in gleeful bleats that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

Strong hands hauled you upright before you could drown in three inches of water. Joel's chest vibrated against your back—the bastard was laughing.

"Told you she don't like people looming over her," he said, voice thick with barely-contained amusement.

You wiped mud from your cheek, glaring. "You could've warned me sooner."

"Where's the fun in that?" The words slipped out before he could stop them, his eyes widening slightly at his own audacity.

Something warm unfurled in your chest. This was new—Joel teasing, letting his guard down. You retaliated by flicking a glob of mud at his shirt.

His jaw dropped. "Did you just—"

The second mudball hit him square in the chest.

For one terrifying second, Joel looked genuinely pissed. Then his eyes darkened with something far more dangerous. "Oh, you're gonna regret that, city girl."

What followed was a mud battle worthy of any childhood memory, complete with strategic retreats behind hay bales and Betty the goat serving as an unwitting double agent. By the time you both collapsed against the fence, breathless and filthy, Joel's laughter rang out clear and unguarded—a sound you'd only heard in fragments before.

The setting sun painted him in gold, his smile lines crinkling in a way that made your chest ache. Mud streaked his cheek, his shirt clung to his torso, and his eyes—

His eyes held yours with an intensity that stole your breath.

The moment stretched, thrumming with something unspoken. Then a cold rivulet of mud slid down your neck, breaking the spell.

Joel cleared his throat, suddenly business-like. "Better clean up before supper." But his fingers lingered on your elbow as he helped you up, his touch lingering just a heartbeat too long.

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The generator sputtered its last breath during the season's first real cold snap.

You found Joel in the living room, already building a fire with the economical movements of someone who'd done this a thousand times before. The flickering light caught the silver in his stubble, the strong line of his nose, the way his shirt stretched across his shoulders as he worked.

"Got extra blankets in the cedar chest," he said without turning.

You hesitated in the doorway, suddenly hyperaware of the flannel you wore—his flannel, the soft blue one that had been hanging in the hall until you'd "borrowed" it three days ago. The one that smelled faintly of his soap and the woodsmoke that always clung to his clothes.

Joel turned then, freezing when his eyes landed on you. His gaze darkened as it travelled from your bare feet to the oversized cuffs swallowing your hands to the way the fabric draped off one shoulder.

Neither of you moved.

The grandfather clock ticked loudly in the silence, each second stretching taut between you. Somewhere in the house, a pipe groaned. Outside, the wind howled through the pines.

Joel's throat worked as he swallowed hard. "You—"

A log shifted in the fireplace, sending up a shower of sparks. The moment shattered.

"Should check the livestock," he finished roughly, grabbing his coat with unnecessary force. The door clicked shut behind him with deliberate finality.

You sank onto the couch, pressing your face into the flannel's collar. His scent surrounded you, warm and familiar and utterly intoxicating. Outside, the temperature dropped steadily, but your skin burned as if touched by sunlight.

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The invitation arrived on a Thursday, creased and coffee-stained, delivered by old man Henderson when he came to pick up his repaired plough.

"Annual Harvest Social," the flyer read in looping script. "Music, supper, and dancing at the Grange Hall. All welcome."

You were elbows-deep in soapy dishwater when Joel tossed it onto the counter with a grunt. "Town nonsense," he muttered, but his eyes flicked to your reaction.

You wiped your hands carefully, studying the faded print. "We going?"

The silence stretched so long you thought he hadn't heard. Then:

"You wanna go?" His voice was carefully neutral, but you noticed the way his thumb worried at a callus on his palm.

The image flashed unbidden—Joel in a clean shirt, his large hands warm at your waist, moving to music under paper lanterns. Your throat went dry.

"Could be fun," you managed.

Joel studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he gave a single nod. "I'll dig out my good boots."

The night of the dance, you stood frozen before the hallway mirror, suddenly unsure. The dress—a thrifted floral sundress—felt foreign after months of denim and flannel.

A knock rattled the doorframe.

"Ready or not, we're gonna be—" Joel's voice died abruptly as you turned.

He stood transfixed in the doorway, his good white shirt half-buttoned over a clean undershirt, his usual scuffed boots replaced by polished ones. His gaze travelled down your bare legs with the weight of a physical touch before snapping back to your face.

Something dark flickered in his eyes. "You... uh." He cleared his throat. "We're gonna be late."

The truck ride into town was silent except for the staticky country station and the sound of Joel's fingers tightening rhythmically on the steering wheel.

The Grange Hall glowed like a lantern against the prairie night, alive with fiddle music and laughter. You felt every eye on you as Joel guided you through the crowd with a hand at the small of your back—his touch burning through the thin fabric of your dress.

"Miller!" A grizzled rancher clapped Joel on the shoulder. "Ain't seen you at one of these in—" His gaze landed on you. "Well I'll be."

Joel's fingers flexed against your spine. "This is—"

"His ranch hand," you supplied, watching the older man's eyebrows climb.

The music shifted then—a slow waltz, all aching strings and longing. Joel stiffened beside you.

Across the room, women whispered behind their hands. You caught snippets—"...that Miller..." "...never brought anyone since..." "...still wears Tess's..."

Joel's jaw clenched. "We should—"

"Dance with me." The words left your lips before you could stop them.

His eyes went wide. "I ain't much for—"

"Please."

Something in your voice broke his resolve. With a shaky exhale, Joel took your hand and led you onto the floor. His right arm slid around your waist, his left hand cradling yours like something precious.

"You're supposed to—"

"Just follow me," he murmured into your hair.

And God help you, you did.

Joel moved with surprising grace for a man who claimed to hate dancing, his body swaying in time to the music. The heat of him surrounded you—the cedar and leather scent of his cologne, the scratch of his collar against your cheek, the way his breath hitched when your hips brushed.

The song ended too soon. Joel made to pull away, but you clung to his hand.

"One more?" you whispered.

In answer, he drew you closer, his lips brushing your temple as the next song began.

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The truck cab was thick with unspoken words as Joel navigated the dark ranch roads. Moonlight painted his profile in silver, catching the tension in his jaw.

"You okay?" you ventured.

His grip on the wheel tightened. "Tess loved those dances."

The name hung between you like a ghost. You'd never asked about the wedding band he still wore, about the locked bedroom door at the ranch, about the way he sometimes stared at the horizon like he was waiting for someone.

The truck rolled to a stop outside the darkened house. Joel didn't cut the engine.

"I should tell you about her," he said hoarsely.

You reached across the seat, covering his hand with yours. "Only if you want to."

His fingers turned, intertwining with yours. For a long moment, you sat there in the quiet, two sets of breath fogging the windshield.

Then Joel killed the engine.

You sat in the stillness, your hand wrapped around his, the silence heavy but not uncomfortable. The only sound was the soft rustling of the wind through the trees, the hum of the distant creek, and the distant calls of coyotes. For a second, you both just... sat. Neither of you moving, neither of you speaking. The weight of the unspoken words between you felt like an uncharted territory neither of you were willing to navigate just yet.

Joel’s thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles, a subconscious comfort more than anything else. His gaze shifted to the darkened ranch house ahead, his eyes narrowing as though the past was pressing in, refusing to let go.

“Tess was…” He started, then paused. The words seemed to choke him for a second. “She was my world, y'know? Before…” He swallowed hard, and you could see his jaw tighten as he forced the rest of it out. “Before she died.”

Your breath caught, the weight of the sudden revelation hanging thick between you. You could feel him pull away into himself as soon as the words left his mouth. He wasn’t looking at you anymore—his eyes were trained somewhere in the distance, focusing on nothing in particular.

“She was the love of my life," Joel continued, his voice low, raw. "We had a house, a future... hell, we had plans. Then…” He trailed off, his hand tightening briefly around the steering wheel, like he was holding onto something for dear life. “She got sick. Fast. One minute, she was fine. The next, she was gone. Just like that."

You stayed quiet, your heart thumping painfully in your chest. You didn’t know what to say, how to ease the weight of that kind of loss. The kind of grief that ran so deep it felt like it might swallow him whole. Joel had always been a man of few words, but this? This was raw.

“The doctors said there was nothing they could do. That it was too late. I kept telling myself I should’ve known... that I should’ve noticed sooner, that maybe I could’ve done something. But I didn’t. And now…” His voice cracked, but he quickly cleared his throat, regaining his composure, even as his hands trembled on the wheel. “Now, it’s just me. And sometimes I wonder if that’s all I’ll ever be. Just a guy who lost everything.”

You swallowed hard, heart aching for him. The grief, the loss—it was so much more than you’d ever imagined.

His gaze flicked to you, but only for a moment, before he looked away again, his expression unreadable. There was a tension in his posture, a stiffness that told you he was holding himself back from saying more. From letting it all spill out.

“I don’t talk about her much," he muttered, his voice hoarse, like the words had been locked away for far too long. "Tess… she was everything to me. I don’t know how to move on from that. I don’t know if I ever will.”

You reached out without thinking, your fingers brushing against his hand, and for a moment, he didn’t pull away. He just let you hold on to him, his rough fingers curling against yours as if you were grounding him, pulling him back from the edge of a memory that threatened to pull him under.

“I’m not asking you to forget her,” you said quietly, squeezing his hand, your voice steady. “You don’t have to. But you don’t have to carry it all by yourself, either.”

Joel’s breath hitched, and for the first time, you saw the rawness of the man behind the rancher—the weight he’d been shouldering for so long, and the part of him that was still fragile, even if he didn’t show it. His eyes softened, though there was still that quiet wariness in his gaze. He hadn’t let go of the past, not entirely, and maybe he never would.

But maybe, just maybe, he could let a little of it slip away.

“You remind me of her,” he whispered, so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. “The way you... the way you care. Even when I don't deserve it.”

Your chest tightened, and you leaned in, your hand still holding his. "I'm here, Joel," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "And I'm not going anywhere."

For a long moment, there was nothing but the quiet hum of the truck’s engine and the distant sound of wind rustling through the trees. Neither of you moved, neither of you spoke. It was as if the world had paused, just for that instant, to let the weight of the moment settle.

Eventually, Joel shifted, breaking the silence with a deep breath. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a slow exhale. “Guess it’s getting late,” he said, trying to regain his usual composure, but his voice was still rough, thick with something unspoken. “We should get inside.”

You both climbed out of the truck, and Joel led the way into the house, his hand brushing against yours once more as you followed him inside. The warmth of the fire hit you immediately, the familiar scent of woodsmoke mingling with the faint smell of coffee and cinnamon.

Joel stopped by the fire, his shoulders hunched slightly as he stared into the flames. You stood beside him, not speaking, just being there. A quiet presence, a steady hand in the darkness.

After a long while, Joel spoke again, his voice low. “You remind me of the way things used to be. Before…” He let the sentence trail off, like he didn’t want to finish it.

You didn’t press him. Instead, you simply nodded, letting him find his own pace.

For a while, neither of you said anything, but there was something in the silence now. Something warm. Something that felt like the beginning of something new, something fragile but real.

Eventually, Joel turned toward you, his eyes dark but not empty. His fingers brushed your cheek, lingering just a moment before he pulled back, like he wasn’t sure whether he was allowed to touch you like that.

"Thanks," he muttered, his voice rough. "For listening."

And for the first time in a long time, Joel Miller didn’t feel quite so alone.

The fire crackled softly, casting a warm glow over the room as the shadows danced across the wooden walls. The night was quiet, but it wasn’t heavy. It felt more like a kind of peace settling in around the two of you. Neither of you spoke for a while, as if the silence had become its own conversation.

Joel stood by the fire, staring into the flames, his posture a little less rigid than it had been before. His hand rested on the mantle, his fingers curling around it like a lifeline, but the tension in his body had softened. He looked different somehow, less burdened. Maybe it was the weight of his grief being shared, maybe it was just the comfort of your presence, but something in him had shifted.

You stayed quiet, sitting on the couch, your eyes watching him, the soft sound of his breathing filling the space between you. You didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with words—it felt like a space where both of you could just be.

But eventually, Joel shifted, breaking the stillness with a quiet sigh. He ran a hand through his hair again, like he was trying to work through something in his mind.

“I don’t know what to do anymore, y’know?” he said, his voice low, almost like he was speaking to himself more than to you. “I’ve been running on autopilot for so damn long... Just trying to make it through the day. But lately... everything feels harder.”

You could hear the weight of exhaustion in his voice, the kind that had settled deep in his bones over the years. He wasn’t just tired from the work—he was tired of the constant struggle, of carrying everything on his own.

You stood up slowly, walking over to him. Without saying a word, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his arm. It was an almost imperceptible gesture, but it was enough. He stiffened for a second, but then his shoulders relaxed, and he glanced at you, his eyes softening.

“I don’t know how to fix everything for you, Joel,” you said quietly. “I can’t take away the pain, or bring back what you lost... But I’m here. And you don’t have to do this alone anymore.”

He looked at you for a long moment, like he was seeing you in a different light—maybe not just as someone to lean on, but as someone who was offering him something he hadn’t realised he needed. A way out of the solitude he’d built around himself.

You reached up then, gently cupping his face with your hands. His stubble scraped lightly against your skin, and his breath hitched for a second, but you didn’t pull away. You simply held him there, your eyes locked with his, letting the words settle between you.

“Maybe we don’t have to figure everything out right now,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the storm you could sense in him. “Maybe we can just... take it one step at a time.”

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The only sounds in the room were the crackling of the fire and the soft rhythm of your breathing. And then, almost imperceptibly, Joel leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly, like he was allowing himself to feel something—anything—that wasn’t the weight of the past.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, as though the words were both a confession and a plea. “I don’t know how to make it right.”

You smiled gently, your thumbs brushing the roughness of his skin, your heart aching for him. “You don’t have to make it perfect, Joel. You don’t have to fix everything. Just... be here. With me.”

The tension in his body slowly ebbed away, and for the first time in a long while, Joel allowed himself to lean into you. To let someone else carry a small piece of the burden. The moment was fleeting but meaningful, a quiet understanding passing between you both.

“I’m not promising anything, but…” Joel trailed off, his gaze softer now, something more vulnerable creeping into his eyes. “Maybe I’ll start trying. For once.”

You nodded, your heart full of quiet hope, and took a small step closer to him. “One step at a time.”

Joel didn’t answer, but his hand reached for yours, his grip gentle but firm. He didn’t let go when your fingers intertwined. It was a small gesture, but it meant something bigger than words could convey.

The fire crackled again, casting more dancing shadows on the walls, but it felt like the start of something new. Something fragile but real. And for the first time, you didn’t feel like you were alone either.

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

You woke early, as usual, the first light of dawn peeking through the curtains. You could hear Joel already moving around downstairs, the familiar sound of boots on the wooden floor, the creak of the old chair at the kitchen table. You stretched and pulled yourself out of bed, the chill of the room pushing you into motion. It was another busy day ahead—feeding the animals, checking the fences, mending what needed mending—but you found yourself looking forward to it more than you had before.

You made your way downstairs, the aroma of brewing coffee filling the air before you even reached the bottom step. Joel was standing at the stove, his back to you, flipping pancakes in a skillet with an ease that came from years of practice. The warm, golden light of the morning spilled through the windows, making the kitchen glow.

"You’re up early," you said, leaning against the doorframe, your voice soft but teasing.

Joel glanced over his shoulder at you, offering a small, almost imperceptible smile. "Not much for sleepin’ in." He turned back to the skillet, flipping the pancake with a practiced flick of his wrist. "Figured I’d get a head start today."

You crossed to the counter, grabbing the mug Joel had already set out for you. "I could get used to this," you said, pouring yourself a cup of coffee. "You know, waking up to pancakes and coffee."

He let out a low chuckle, his eyes catching yours for just a second. "Don't get too comfortable. I’m not much of a cook. You might end up makin' these yourself sooner or later."

You laughed softly, your fingers curling around the warm mug. "I think I could manage."

There was an ease in the way the two of you moved around each other now. Where once you’d felt like a stranger in a new world, now it felt... natural. Even the hard work didn’t seem quite so overwhelming anymore. You knew the land better, understood its rhythms, the way it demanded respect without asking for much in return. And Joel—well, Joel was becoming something you hadn’t anticipated. He was still the man of few words, the one who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, but there was a gentleness in him now. A trust.

You sat down at the table, watching him finish cooking, the way his large hands moved so gracefully despite their size. There was a quiet confidence in him now that made your chest tighten, and it wasn’t just because of his strength. It was because, for the first time in a long while, he seemed like he was allowing himself to be here—really here—with you.

"After breakfast," Joel said, setting the last pancake on the stack, "we need to check the horses. Haven’t seen 'em this morning."

You nodded, taking a sip of your coffee. "Got it. I’ll grab the gear."

The work felt familiar now, but there was something different about it. It wasn’t just about chores anymore—it was a way to connect, to feel part of something larger than yourself. You and Joel worked together, side by side, fixing fences, checking the cattle, and tending to the land. It was a steady rhythm, one that was comforting in its predictability.

By midday, you’d found your stride. You’d mended a tear in the barn roof, helped Joel move hay bales, and checked the water troughs. And when the sky turned to gold with the setting sun, you both found yourselves leaning against the fence, the last light of the day painting everything in warm hues.

Joel’s hand brushed against yours as he shifted, and for a moment, you felt like the world had quieted completely—just the two of you, standing in the vastness of the land you had come to love, connected in a way that felt timeless.

"You know," he said, breaking the silence, "I never thought I'd be this comfortable with someone around. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had people work with me before, but it’s different with you."

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes. There was something in his gaze now—something deeper. "I think I’m finally getting used to the quiet, too," you admitted. "And to you. I’ve never met anyone quite like you, Joel."

Joel’s lips twitched, a small, rare smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Guess I’m just a stubborn old cowboy," he said with a hint of humor, though there was something more sincere in the way he said it, like he was offering a piece of himself you hadn’t seen before.

You shifted closer, the space between you shrinking. "I don’t mind stubborn," you replied softly. "It’s... kind of endearing."

Joel's smile softened, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The evening air was still and cool, the sound of the crickets chirping blending with the distant lowing of the cattle. The world was small here, simple. But somehow, it felt full.

When you reached up to brush a loose strand of hair from your face, your hand grazed Joel’s arm. He stiffened just slightly, and for a heartbeat, you both seemed to hesitate. Then, almost without thinking, you reached out again, this time more deliberately, and placed your hand on his forearm, your fingers lingering.

Joel’s gaze flickered down to where your hand rested, and then back to your face. There was an unspoken understanding between you now—no more games, no more hesitations.

"Don’t go getting any ideas," Joel said, though there was no real bite to his words. "You might end up stickin' around for good."

A light laugh bubbled up from you, and you squeezed his arm. "I’m already stickin' around," you said, your voice more certain.

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

The sun was beginning to dip low in the sky, casting an orange glow over the horizon as you and Joel made your way back from the creek. The day had been long, but there was a certain satisfaction in it—a quiet contentment that settled in your chest. Now, as the evening light bathed everything in gold, the two of you walked in silence back toward the house. The barn loomed behind you, and the fields stretched out endlessly before you, a peaceful canvas of green and brown.

You were both tired, but there was an energy between you that felt new, something that tugged at the edges of your thoughts. It was the way your heart seemed to race just a little faster every time Joel’s presence shifted around you. The way your breath caught in your throat when you glanced at him from the corner of your eye.

Joel stopped walking a few paces ahead of you, his boots kicking up the dirt, and turned toward you, his face softening in the fading light. The warmth of the day was still lingering in the air, and the world around you seemed to hush, waiting.

“You’ve been here for a while now,” Joel said, his voice low, like he was considering each word carefully. “I’ve seen you adjust. You’ve done more than just fit in. You’ve... become part of this place.”

You met his gaze, your heartbeat quickening at the seriousness in his eyes. "I never thought I’d find a place like this," you said quietly, your voice almost a whisper, as though sharing a secret. "And I never thought I’d meet someone like you."

Joel stepped closer, his boots scraping softly against the dirt. His presence felt different now—closer, more intense. He stood just a few feet away, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The distance between you seemed to shrink with each passing second, the silence heavy with unspoken words.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Joel said, his voice softer now, like he was letting down a barrier. “About how much you’ve changed things around here. Not just for the ranch, but... for me.”

Joel’s eyes flicked to your lips for the briefest moment before returning to your eyes. And in that instant, the world seemed to still, the sounds of the ranch fading into nothing.

With a slight movement, Joel reached out, his hand gently cupping your cheek. It was a soft, almost tentative gesture, but there was a strength to it, an undeniable certainty in the way his thumb brushed across your skin.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you could feel the warmth of his touch spread through you, igniting something that had been slowly building since you arrived.

Before you could think, before the moment could slip away, you leaned in.

Joel’s hand slid around to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, the world around you melting away. His lips were warm and insistent, and the gentle pressure of his kiss sent a thrill rushing through you. For a moment, it was just the two of you—the world and all its distractions faded into the background.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and slightly dazed, you rested your forehead against his, your eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze. There was a quiet understanding between you now, something new, something that had shifted in the space between the two of you.

Joel’s voice was barely more than a whisper as he spoke. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

You smiled, your chest full, heart racing. “I think I’ve wanted you to.”

He chuckled softly, his thumb brushing across your cheek. “You’re not what I expected, you know that?”

You laughed softly, the sound light and genuine, before stepping back just slightly, your fingers brushing his. “Neither are you.”

You were up earlier than usual, moving through the kitchen in a daze of thoughts, your mind still racing from the kiss. The silence of the ranch was comforting, almost like a cocoon, wrapping you up in the stillness of everything around you.

Joel hadn’t said much when you parted ways the night before, but the look in his eyes—intense, yet soft—had told you everything. It was clear that neither of you had expected the shift that had come so naturally, but now, there was no denying it. Whatever had just begun, it wasn’t something you could walk away from.

You heard the soft sound of boots on the porch, the familiar rhythm of Joel’s steps as he made his way toward the house. You turned around just as he entered, the sight of him bringing an unexpected rush of warmth to your chest.

He smiled, a little shy, a little unsure—like he was still figuring out where to stand in all of this. You both were.

“Mornin’,” he greeted softly, his deep voice carrying a quiet sincerity.

“Morning,” you replied, offering him a smile that felt more like home than anything else.

By the time breakfast was ready, the kitchen was filled with the scent of eggs and bacon, the soft clinking of plates as you set the table.

“Want to head out to the fields later?” Joel asked, his voice casual but with a hint of anticipation.

You nodded, your stomach fluttering with excitement. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Joel smiled, that familiar warmth returning to his expression.

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

The sun hung high in the sky, casting long shadows across the fields as you and Joel made your way out into the vast expanse of the ranch. The air had warmed up since the early morning, and there was a gentle breeze rustling through the grass, carrying with it the sweet scent of wildflowers.

As you walked beside him, your thoughts drifted back to the peaceful breakfast you’d shared. The conversation had been easy, flowing naturally between you, but there had been something comforting in the silence, too.

When you reached the edge of the field, you stopped, your eyes falling on a patch of grass where Joel had already laid out a blanket. There, in the middle of the field, with nothing but the sounds of nature around you, he had set up a picnic. The scene was simple, but there was something about it that felt intimate, like a secret just for the two of you.

The two of you ate in comfortable silence, the easy rhythm of sharing a meal together only adding to the sense of peace that seemed to settle over you both. After a few moments, Joel reached for the book beside him, holding it out to you with a slight grin.

“I thought you might like this one,” he said, his voice quiet. “It’s one of my favorites. I’ll read it to you, if you’d like.”

You took the book from his hands, glancing at the cover—The Secret Garden. Your heart warmed at the thought of him wanting to share something so personal. It felt like an invitation to step into his world, to see the things he held close.

“I’d like that,” you said softly, your eyes meeting his.

Joel settled back against the blanket, the sun casting a golden glow over him, and you curled up beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. The moment felt so simple, but in its simplicity, it was perfect. The world outside this small bubble you had created seemed to fade away as he began to read aloud, his voice deep and steady, the words flowing smoothly into the air.

As he read, you let yourself relax, the sound of his voice weaving a sense of comfort around you. There was something incredibly romantic about the way he read, each word filled with a quiet intensity, like he was sharing a piece of himself with you in each sentence. The book’s story was a good one, the characters coming to life with Joel’s voice, but it wasn’t just the story that held your attention—it was the feeling of being here with him, in this moment, with nothing else to do but listen and be present.

You could hear the occasional breeze stirring the trees, the distant call of a bird, but everything else seemed to fade into the background as you found yourself wrapped up in both the story and in him.

Eventually, Joel turned a page, pausing for a moment as he glanced at you. “You comfortable?” he asked, his voice low, almost like a whisper.

You nodded, lifting your head slightly to look up at him. “I’m perfect,” you said, and it was true. There was no place you’d rather be than here, beside him, feeling the warmth of the day and the gentleness of his presence.

Joel gave you a soft smile, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he returned to the book. He continued reading, his voice almost a soothing hum against the backdrop of the quiet ranch. Every now and then, you’d glance up at him, watching the way the sunlight caught in his hair, the way he spoke with such focus and care. It was moments like this—quiet, intimate, with no rush—that made everything feel so right.

As the story unfolded, you both became more absorbed in the tale, but time seemed to stretch, becoming less important. The whole world could have passed by, and you wouldn’t have noticed. It was just the two of you, sharing a peaceful day in the fields, wrapped up in a story and in each other.

When Joel finished the chapter, he closed the book and placed it beside him, his hand gently resting on the blanket. He looked over at you, his expression soft.

“Did you like it?” he asked, his voice a little hushed.

You smiled, a soft warmth spreading through you. “I did. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

He nodded, his lips curving up at the corners. “You’re welcome.”

There was a moment of quiet, a small but meaningful silence that held everything you both hadn’t yet said, but didn’t need to. You shifted slightly, turning to face him more fully, your gaze catching his. You could feel the subtle change in the air between you, the quiet understanding that had been building all morning, now palpable.

Slowly, as if it had always been meant to happen, you leaned in, closing the space between you. Joel’s hand gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin, and then, without any more words needed, your lips met. The kiss was slow and tender, the kind that lingered in your soul long after it ended.

When you pulled away, you stayed close, your foreheads resting together, both of you breathing in the same quiet rhythm.

“I think I could get used to this,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel smiled, his eyes soft with affection as he gazed at you. “Yeah. Me too.”

"You’ve... you’ve got a way of making everything feel a little different," Joel said, his voice catching slightly as he looked into your eyes. The silence that followed was thick, the weight of his words settling between you like a promise, an unspoken acknowledgment of something growing deeper between you both.

You could feel your heart beating a little faster. The way he was looking at you now was unlike anything you’d seen before. His gaze was hungry, but not in the way it had been before—this was more. More raw, more real.

You didn’t say anything in response. Instead, you let the tension build, your breath shallow as you reached for him, cupping his jaw gently in your hand. His breath hitched as your thumb traced the line of his jaw, and you couldn’t help but lean in just a little, your lips barely brushing against his.

Joel’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, and when he opened them again, the storm that had always been present was even clearer now. You could see the restraint in the way his body was coiled, like a man holding back the tide.

“Don’t hold back,” you whispered, not trusting yourself to say more.

Joel didn’t need any more encouragement. His lips crashed against yours, hot and urgent, a mixture of relief and longing as if he were finally giving in to something he’d held at bay for far too long. The kiss was fierce, as though he were trying to make up for all the time spent keeping his distance.

Your fingers threaded into his hair, tugging him closer as his hands gripped your waist, pulling you into him with a strength that made your breath hitch. The heat between you two grew, making the air around you seem almost too thick to breathe. You could feel the solid weight of him against you, the way his chest pressed into yours with each kiss, the way his hands wandered across your back, memorising every curve of you.

His lips left yours only long enough for him to breathe, his forehead resting against yours. "God, you don’t know what you’re doin’ to me," Joel murmured, his voice rougher than usual, the words a low growl.

You laughed breathlessly, your hands still resting on his chest. "I think I’m starting to get the idea."

The blanket beneath you was rough against your bare thighs, the late afternoon sun warming your skin as Joel hovered over you, his body casting a shadow that made the gold in his eyes burn even brighter. His lips had just left yours, swollen and wet from the way he’d kissed you—deep, consuming, like he was trying to memorise the taste of you.

"You’re sure about this?" he asked, voice rough, his fingers flexing against your hips like he was already fighting the urge to take more.

In answer, you arched up against him, your chest brushing his, and Joel let out a low groan, his forehead dropping to yours.

"Christ," he muttered, his breath hot against your lips. "Out here like this—anyone could—"

You cut him off with a roll of your hips, grinding against the hard length of him, and Joel cursed, his restraint snapping.

His hands were everywhere at once—one tangling in your hair, the other sliding up your thigh, pushing the fabric of your dress higher until his calloused fingers met bare skin. You gasped as he traced the edge of your underwear, his touch teasing, maddening.

"Joel—"

"Tell me what you want," he growled, his lips brushing the shell of your ear before dragging down your neck, teeth scraping lightly.

You whimpered, your fingers clutching at his shirt. "You. Just you."

That was all it took.

His hand slid beneath the waistband of your panties, fingers finding you already wet, already aching for him. He groaned against your throat as he stroked you, slow at first, then firmer when your hips jerked against his touch.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he rasped, watching the way your body responded to him. "Look at you."

You could feel the tension coiling tighter, your breath coming in short gasps as his fingers worked you with a precision that had your toes curling. But just as you were teetering on the edge, Joel pulled back, leaving you empty, desperate.

Your protest was cut off when his mouth crashed back onto yours, his kiss filthy, his tongue sliding against yours as he guided your hand to his belt.

"Wanna feel you," he muttered against your lips, his voice wrecked. "All of you."

You didn’t hesitate. Your fingers fumbled with the buckle, then the button of his jeans, and when you finally freed him, Joel hissed through his teeth, his hips jerking into your touch.

He was thick, hot in your hand, and when you stroked him, his entire body tensed, his grip on your thigh tightening almost to the point of pain.

"Fuck—" His forehead dropped to your shoulder, his breath ragged. "Gonna ruin me."

You smiled, squeezing lightly, and Joel growled, his patience gone.

In one swift motion, he yanked your underwear aside and pushed into you, filling you so completely that you cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders.

Joel stilled, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. "Okay?" he gritted out, his voice strained.

Joel's breath was fire against your neck, his body trembling with restraint as he waited for your answer.

"More than okay," you gasped, arching into him, needing him deeper.

That was all the permission he needed.

Joel moved with a roughness that stole your breath—deep, relentless strokes that had you seeing stars. His hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, holding you exactly where he wanted you as he drove into you again and again.

"Look at me," he growled, his voice raw.

You forced your eyes open, meeting his dark, hungry gaze. Sweat glistened on his brow, his jaw clenched tight with pleasure. The sight of him—undone, wrecked, yours—sent a fresh wave of heat spiraling through you.

"Joel—"

"Know what you do to me?" he rasped, his thrusts turning slower, deeper, dragging against every sensitive inch inside you. "Fuckin' ruin me."

You clenched around him, and his control snapped.

With a groan, Joel flipped you onto your back, pinning your wrists above your head as he surged into you, his rhythm turning desperate. His lips crashed against yours, swallowing your moans as pleasure coiled tighter, hotter—until you shattered, crying out his name.

Joel followed with a broken groan, his hips stuttering as he spilled inside you, his forehead dropping to yours.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of your ragged breathing, the heat of his body pressed against yours. Then Joel exhaled, rough and unsteady, his thumb brushing your cheek.

"Christ," he muttered, voice wrecked.

You grinned, still trembling beneath him. "That a complaint?"

Joel huffed a laugh, pressing a kiss to your pulse point. "Ain't even close."

His touch gentled as he traced the curve of your waist, your hip, the inside of your thigh—checking, silently, for any discomfort. When he found none, his hand returned to cradle your face, his thumb brushing your kiss-swollen bottom lip.

"You good?" The question was gruff, but his eyes—dark and liquid in the low light—held an intensity that made your stomach flip.

You caught his wrist, pressing a kiss to his palm. "Better than good."

Joel’s throat worked. He leaned in, kissing you slow and deep, nothing like the frantic heat of before. This was something else—a claiming, a promise, a thank you that didn’t need words.

When he finally pulled back, he didn’t go far. His nose brushed yours, his breath warm on your skin. "Gonna take care of you," he murmured, already moving to slide down your body.

You caught his shoulder. "Joel—"

"Shhh." A kiss to your sternum. "Let me."

His mouth was hot as it traced the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, his beard scraping deliciously. You gasped when his tongue laved over you, slow and thorough, his hands spreading you wide.

"Joel—"

His grip tightened. "Told you," he growled against your skin. "Gonna take my time."

And he did.

By the time he was done, you were boneless and breathless, your fingers tangled in his hair as he crawled back up your body, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your stomach, your ribs, the flutter of your pulse.

"Still good?" he asked, his voice rough with satisfaction.

You could only nod, your limbs heavy with pleasure.

Joel smirked, that rare, real smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. Then he gathered you against him, tucking your head under his chin, his heartbeat steady against your cheek.

"Rest," he murmured, his hand stroking down your spine. "I got you."

And for the first time in your life, you believed it.

As you drifted, Joel reached for the spare blanket, draping it over you both. His fingers traced idle patterns on your shoulder—circles, spirals, the occasional brush of his knuckles—as if memorising you by touch.

Joel’s lips brushed your forehead. "Stay?"

Not a command. A question.

You curled closer, your leg hooking over his. "Try and make me leave."

His chest rumbled with quiet laughter, his arms tightening around you. "Wouldn’t dare."

And in the quiet that followed, wrapped in the heat of him, you realised—

You were home.

[pearlessance]

reminiscing a little about this fic, my first time writing for joel miller. and to think i almost scrapped it, but this fic and all the love and support on it literally led me to find so many amazing people. anyway i love u all so much 🥺💙

Our Little Secret

Summary - Joel Miller deals with disgusting, intrusive thoughts about the girl next door who smells like vanilla and uses cherry chapstick.

Pairing - dbf!Joel Miller/Reader

Warnings - explicit sexual content MDNI, kinda perv!Joel, age gap, no cordyceps outbreak AU, reader's in high school but is eighteen, dom/sub undertones, seduction, underage drinking, body worship, unprotected sex, reader is called 'jailbait’ by Tommy, oral sex, breeding kink if you squint, praise & degradation

WC: 11k

[crossposted to AO3]

Joel Miller told himself he wasn’t a pervert. He just wasn’t. Double glancing at a pretty, young girl didn’t make him one of those guys — it just made him a man, right?

Never mind the fact that your father was one of his closest friends or the fact that you lived just next door, embodying half of the very typical scandalous, small-town affair. Never mind your eighteen year age difference. Never mind those obscene images that sometimes invaded his brain. Joel had heard the term once. He thinks Sarah might have told him about it from that science documentary she watched—those sordid images were called intrusive thoughts, right? Involuntary, unavoidable, unwanted.

It wasn’t only him who stared in your direction a little longer than necessary, anyway. The very first time he’d seen you, Joel and Tommy had been in the driveway doing an oil change on the truck. You and your dad had just moved in, Joel had introduced himself the day prior and helped haul a bed frame through the front room. Your dad had mentioned he had a daughter, but Joel had expected to see a girl closer to Sarah’s age. 

He hadn’t expected to see you, wearing those tight blue jeans and that tiny tank top that left very little to the imagination. The straps were thin and the fabric billowy, and when you shifted the box beneath your arm from one hand to the other, the pretty pink fabric of your bra was out in the open for all eyes to see. Your hair had been pulled into a ponytail at the crown of your head, swishing back and forth with each step. It made Joel wonder about how soft the long strands were, how they would feel between his fingers, how they would look splayed out atop a pillowcase — intrusive thoughts.

Tommy was quick to abandon his tools and cross the front yard to greet your father, offering you what seemed like an innocent helping hand. Joel thinks his younger brother has no self control, but he leaves the truck too. Only to introduce himself, though. Definitely not to get a closer look. 

Your voice is sweet, he thinks. It slides through him like a hot knife through butter. And when you laugh at Tommy’s awkward attempt at conversation, that sound stabs him in the chest because it’s so girlish. So young and youthful and airy. That pink lace is still poking out of the side of your shirt, even though Tommy now carries the box, and Joel strains himself trying to keep his eyes above your chin. 

“And you must be Mr. Miller,” you say, sticking your tiny hand out to him.

He knows it’s a bad idea, but he doesn’t want to be rude, so he takes your hand in his and shakes it gently. Your skin is soft, nails painted red and manicured and he wonders what other parts of you are this soft, wonders if red has always been his favorite color, wonders what it would look like wrapped around — “Just Joel,” he tells you, clearing those damn intrusive thoughts as quickly as they appear. 

“Joel,” you repeat, tasting his name on your pink tongue and giving him a sweet smile. “There's two more boxes. Wanna help me grab them?”

He’s careful not to answer too fast, afraid of sounding too eager. But he agrees, and you lead him to the open truck bed, and as you bend over to grab the smaller box his hands flex at his sides. He thinks you must be doing this on purpose. Right? Torturing him, sticking your ass out, silently begging him to look. But he doesn't. Instead, Joel picks up the larger box and notices the scent of vanilla radiating off your skin. This is almost worse because his mouth begins to water. 

“My dad said you have a daughter,” you say. 

“Yeah. Sarah. She’s younger than you, though.”

“That’s okay. Does she like cake? I have to bake one for my home ec final and could use a taste tester if she’s not busy.”

It really puts things into perspective, and he’s glad for it. Finals. School. High school. “I’ll ask her,” Joel says. 

You lead everyone inside and direct all three men to take the boxes to the living room where you begin unpacking. You sit on the floor as you sift through the boxes, legs tucked underneath you, and Joel has to force a smile when you look up at him through your lashes. You say thank you, Joel from your knees and he feels something very, very wrong stir inside him. 

Tommy follows him back outside, and on the way back to their truck his voice is high pitched in mockery as he says, “Thank you, Joel! You’re so handsome , Joel! Let me repay you with my body, Joel!”

He just laughs it off, but as he continues with the oil change beneath the hood an uncomfortable silence settles between him. 

Eventually, Tommy shakes his head and snorts. “That girl is nothing but fucking jailbait, man.”

He sees you quite a few times after that, because your dad works in construction, too. Joel drinks the same kind of beer, and your dad has a pool table in your garage…so, naturally, they become the best of friends and very quickly at that. Tommy joins the party too, and within months they become an inseparable trio.

It’s during one of these nights when the three of them were standing in the garage with the door wide open, music playing from the speakers in your dad’s truck when those intrusive thoughts plague him again. Tommy’s losing at pool, drunk before the sun’s fully set, and your dad is laughing at something he’s saying.

You’re walking home from practice and stop suddenly at the end of the driveway. Joel can see you, but he doesn’t think Tommy or your dad can. The truck is in the way, but he’s in the perfect position. He stares a little too long, but he can’t help it. You’re wearing your cheer uniform, and your midriff is exposed, and your long legs are so fucking appetizing that his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth. Your skirt is rolled up at the waist, making the fabric shorter than it’s supposed to be, making it sluttier than it’s supposed to be.

When you notice him staring, you shoot him a sinful little smile and raise your finger to your lips. A secret, Joel realizes. You want him to keep something a secret, and somehow it feels intimate, having something between the two of you. He watches you unroll the hem of your skirt and pull at the ends so it covers more of your legs. You turn in a semicircle, and he licks his lips, and when you look at him again you raise your hands in question. 

He gives you a discreet thumbs up, and when you make your way up the driveway you give him the prettiest smile and say, “Hey, Joel! Nice to see you!”

Tommy gives him shit for it later, but he’s too distracted at the sight of you in that uniform to even remember Joel exists. 

“You’re late,” your dad chastises. “Practice was over at five today. It’s almost six.”

“Took the scenic route,” you reply easily, and Joel can hear the playful tone in your voice that lets everyone in the room know of your insincerity. 

You walk past them, backpack slung over one arm, but before you disappear inside you wink at him over your shoulder. 

“Get ready, Joel,” your dad tells him with an exasperated sigh. “Teenage girls are hell.”

And Joel is inclined to agree. Even more so when he’s laying in bed that night, wondering about all the things you could’ve been getting up to in that hour it took you to get home. The school was a short, ten minute walk from your house. And even if you truly did take the scenic route home, it wouldn’t have taken you an entire hour to arrive. 

So, what were you getting up to? Joel didn’t think you had a boyfriend. At least, not one you ever brought home. But not having a boyfriend didn’t mean anything. Not in this day and age. And Joel knew the mind of a teenage boy. He had been one, once upon a time, and knew without a doubt the lengths a boy your age would go to spend an hour alone with you. He thought about all of the things he was doing at eighteen, and his brain ran wild with those ideas.

After hours of laying there, unable to find sleep, Joel Miller took out his phone and opened a private search tab. It had been a long time since he’d done this, and he’d tried not to — truly, he had spent every minute since he’d closed his bedroom door trying to get the images out of his head. But it was like an itch he needed to scratch, becoming more and more irritating the longer he put it off. So, he typed cheerleader into the black and orange search bar and promised himself it was the one and only time he’d ever do this. 

He just needed to get it out of his system. That was all.

(If he was honest, Joel knew as soon as the thought crossed his mind that it wasn’t true. Even when he scrolled through the videos to find a girl who looked strikingly similar to you. Even when he turned his volume all the way down, and reached into his sweatpants with his free hand. Even when he squeezed his eyes shut and thought of that rolled up skirt and that pretty pink lace, pornographic images long forgotten in favor of the ones you’d supplied. Even when a few quick tugs was all it took to shoot thick ropes of cum across his belly. Even when he cleared his search history, cleaned himself up, and rolled over to sleep…even then, he knew it would not be enough to get you out of his head.)

The next day, Joel saw you leaving for school and couldn’t bear to look in your eyes. He couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d done and feeling shameful, feeling like the very sordid man he knew himself not to be. He wasn’t a pervert, but he’d certainly felt like one that day.

You waved your hand and beamed like you did every morning. But Joel didn’t wave back. Oblivious to his atrocities, you played your hand at concern. “You okay?”

“Fine.”

“You don’t… seem fine. Is there anything I can do to help?”

God—your voice, full of kindness and sweet summery grace, was better than the audio in any porno he’d ever seen. “I said I’m fine.”

Thankfully, you took the hint and scurried off, not dissimilar to a wounded animal. Guilt immediately choked him. But, pushing you away is what he’s supposed to do. So he doesn’t change his mind. 

At least, not at first.

He spends the entire summer going out of his way to avoid you. He offered to host guys nights at his house on the weekends instead of your dad's garage. He left for work five minutes earlier than normal to avoid having to hear you say good morning, Joel! and wave at him with those pretty red nails and smile at him with your pretty white teeth.

But once summer starts, you and Sarah begin spending way too much time together. And at first, it makes him nervous. You make him nervous. He doesn’t want to make small talk. He doesn't want to see you in your uniform. He doesn’t want to look at you at all, actually.

It works out in his favor though, Joel thinks, because you and Sarah have the same taste in movies, and she thinks you're the coolest thing that’s ever existed, and so whenever Joel and Tommy are in your garage, you’re at Joel’s house with Sarah. So he doesn’t have to be on edge, wondering if he’d turn the corner and you’d be standing there smelling like vanilla and wearing pink lace. 

But then you’re hosting a high school graduation party a few short months after you move in. And your dad invites Joel and Tommy to the party in your backyard. In fact, he practically begs them to come and keep him company. And Joel can’t say no, because what excuse would he have? Sarah would never let him skip it, anyway. And so his avoidance comes to an end, and he finds himself standing in your backyard with a glass bottle in his hands, watching people congratulate you and your accomplishments all day long. Straight A’s in all those AP classes you took, your dad tells him proudly, clicking his tongs together over the grill. Joel knows you’re a smart girl, he doesn’t need to know your grades to see that you have your head on straight, but he also knows you’re a far cry from the timid little girl your father believes you to be. Joel can see it in you. 

Still, you’re far smarter than he is, because while Tommy drones on and on about a project he’s got going on at home, all Joel can notice is the pretty sundress you’re wearing. It’s pink, like the lace that sometimes still haunts him. It clings to you at the top, molding sinfully against your chest, and flows out at the bottom, cutting off at your midthigh.

It’s too short, Joel thinks. Way too short to be wearing around so many male classmates. Around your dad’s friends. Tommy likes younger girls, you know. And Joel…Joel’s turning away from you and swallowing what’s left of his beer. He clinks the empty glass against Tommy’s and asks, “You need another?”

Your dad is the one who answers. “How about a shot of whiskey? The cabinet above the sink.”

Joel thinks it's a fantastic idea. He gets stopped by Mr. Adler on the way inside, who asks what the celebration is. He talks for far longer than he’d like, and by the time he gets to the kitchen, Joel really needs something stronger than beer. 

Except, when he steps into the room, he freezes the moment he sees you standing there. Your head whips in his direction, eyes wide as if you’ve been caught. It’s only as he tears his attention away from you and notices the two red solo cups on the counter and the bottle of tequila in your hands, perched over them, that he realizes what he’d just walked in on. 

Your cheeks are pink, the same hue as your dress, and you quickly try to explain it away. “Joel! Hey! This isn’t…I’m not like—you know, it’s just a celebration and…I’ll be nineteen soon and—I mean, it’s just a little .”

He raises his eyebrows, unsure of how to navigate this terrain. On the one hand, he feels the need to discipline you somehow. To turn this into a lesson of sorts, to let you know how the age of legal alcohol consumption is twenty one for a reason, that being drunk in a social setting like this is dangerous, especially for a girl like you.

But on the other hand, Joel knows he’s not responsible for you. He’s not your father, and he’s not going to be the one to give you the speech about underage drinking. He’d been far younger than eighteen-almost-nineteen the first time he’d gotten drunk. And you were right…this was a celebration. 

The war in his brain seemed to dim what little common sense he had because Joel found himself standing behind you with almost no room to spare. The sweet scent of vanilla filled the space. You’d curled your hair, and the ends tickled the inside of his arm. Soft. So, so soft he could die. He puts his big hand on your bare shoulder, and reaches above you into the cabinet, finding the half empty bottle of whiskey. His fingers twitch with the urge to squeeze your supple flesh. Christ. It’s just a fucking shoulder, Joel, he tells himself. “It’s your party,” he says. “I won’t tell.”

It feels wrong just to say it to you. I won’t tell. Perverted thing to say, Joel thinks. You spin around to face him, and suddenly your breasts are brushing his chest, and Joel can’t breathe. “Thank you,” you whisper, taking your bottom lip between your teeth and sending him into his fucking grave. 

It’s then, as he stares down at you and you stare up at him all sweet and innocent-like, that Joel finally admits to himself that avoidance has done absolutely fucking nothing to put out the fire you started. He clears his throat. “Yeah, yeah—it’s, uhm…it’s no problem. Have fun.”

He turns to leave, but then your arms are around his neck and he can’t smell anything but vanilla and he can feel your tits pressing into him, can feel you everywhere. But Joel isn’t a mean man, so what can he do but hug you back? If someone walked in, they’d think it was a fatherly embrace. Proud. Protective, even. 

But they wouldn’t know that all Joel could think about is the way your skin felt under his calloused hands. Or the way your soft hair tickled his cheek as he laid it against the top of your head. Or the way your hips were nestled right between his thighs—and you were so warm and—

Intrusive thoughts.

“You’re the best, Joel,” you say, eyes bright and cheery. He’s relieved when you pull away, but also a little bit empty. He watches you pour a shot into each red solo cup. “You know, I’ve never tried whiskey. It seems so, like… manly .” You giggle, and it’s music to his ears but Joel begins to wonder if maybe this isn’t your first time stealing from the tequila bottle tonight. 

“It’s definitely not the best tasting thing in the world,” he says. “Gets the job done, though.”

To put the tequila away, you have to stand on the tips of your toes. It elongates your entire body as you stretch upwards, and he can’t bring himself to stop staring at the curve of your hips. “You have to be drunk to hang out with me or something?”

The question surprises him. Yes, he thinks. Yes, he does need to be inebriated to hang out with you because otherwise his sober mind never lets him forget the way you look all dolled up. But he doesn’t say that. Instead, Joel laughs quietly and says, “I’m here for your old man. You think he wants to be the lone adult in this sea of kids?”

He says it as a joke and is thankful you find humor in it. “I’m not a kid, Joel,” you remind him. “I’m a woman now. Is my company really so bad?” You tilt your head, pushing your bottom lip into the tiniest little pout. 

Joel needs to stop staring at your mouth. He knows it, because the urge rises in him to bite that lip, to surge forward and taste your tongue for remnants of tequila. The idea alone sends a bolt of white-hot desire straight to his dick. “No, no…s’not like that,” he says. He’s too focused on your face and the gleam in your pretty eyes to notice you’ve unscrewed the top of the whiskey bottle. 

You pour a shot into an empty solo cup and hold it up between the two of you. “I’m scared,” you admit sheepishly. “Is it gross?”

The wrinkle in your nose is the cutest thing he’s ever seen, and the sight forces his lips into a small smile. “I don’t think so,” he says. “But you might.”

“Because I’m a kid ?” You scoff, but shake your head and smile at him all the same. “Women mature faster than men, you know. Which means when I make my decisions, I know what I’m signing myself up for.” 

“Oh, is that so?” He remembers being this cocky as a teenager. He thinks maybe you’ve been spending too much time around Tommy and his defiant attitude is rubbing off on you. Joel offers a challenge—if you’re just so mature. “Drink up, then.”

He watches every microscopic movement as you lick your lips and lift the cup to your mouth. It’s a beautiful sight, watching you tilt your head back and swallow the tiniest bit. And when you pass the remaining liquid to him, your expression is fashioned from steel. Nonchalant, blank. 

But he sees it, sees the way your hands twitch at your sides, sees the way your jaw feathers as you clench your teeth. He can’t help but chuckle at your persistence. Joel turns the cup in his hands and puts his mouth right where you did. 

It’s almost like kissing, he thinks. Having his mouth where yours was seconds ago feels good. Better than he thought it would. And he can taste cherry-flavored chapstick before he can taste the whiskey, and he wonders when the last time was when he’d had a shot because it goes straight to his head and makes him feel drunk. Or maybe it’s just the wide smile that stretches across your face. 

“That’s awful,” you confess. “I’ll stick to tequila, I think.”

“Tequila’s worse,” he says with a shake of his head. Tequila makes Joel feel your age, makes him forget the word consequences, makes him buzz with energy. 

“No way,” you say. “The taste isn’t nearly as strong.”

While that may be true, it wasn’t about the taste at all and he doesn’t really know how to explain it. “Tequila encourages people to make bad decisions.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “Bad decisions,” you echo contemplatively. “Sounds like a great time.” You take both of your tequila filled cups in hand and press a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks for always keeping my secrets,” you whisper. 

Joel has to stand in the kitchen an extra few minutes after you leave because he still feels the ghost of your lips on his skin and doesn’t know how to act. Eventually, though, he finds the courage to face his brother and your father. He stays for the remainder of the party and helps your dad clean up the yard after everyone filters out. 

It’s a relief when he’s finally in his own bed that night. He tries to resist thinking of you. Truly, he does — but it’s no use, and he’s alone in his bed, and this time he doesn’t even reach for his phone when he touches himself. 

And it’s good. So good that he tries to draw it out. He tries his damndest to make it last. But his efforts become futile in just minutes, because he can feel your soft lips, can taste cherry chapstick, and he’s right there—right fucking there—when his bedroom door creaks open. 

“Joel?”

For a second, he’s convinced himself he’s gone crazy. He’s well and truly lost it now, and his fantasies have grown into hallucinations at this point. You’ve driven him batshit insane. But his eyes focus in the dark, and he realizes his mind isn’t playing tricks on him at all. “What are you doing here?”

You take it as an invitation, and he desperately wishes you wouldn’t. He can still feel the buzz from the beer and whiskey, and his cock is hard beneath the sheets, and his brain is filled with images of you, and you’re in nothing but spandex shorts and a loose tank top, and when you sit on the side of his bed you lay your hand on his knee for balance and Joel’s hands shake. 

“How did you even get in?”

“I used the key under the mat,” you confess. “I need your help.” Your voice is so mousy and soft, and it pulls him back to his senses. 

“What’s wrong?”

“You were right,” you tell him. “I made a bad tequila decision and now I’m sad.” 

Joel doesn’t know what to say. You couldn’t possibly still be tipsy, he thinks. It’s been hours since he saw you in the kitchen, but he supposes you very well could’ve gone back after everyone left. Either way, you’d come to him to fix it, and even knowing the right thing would be to call your dad, he was still high on the second secret you two shared. So, Joel sighs and puts his hand on yours. “What did you do?”

“I snuck a boy into my room,” you say.

Joel’s jaw clenches. Anger rises in his chest, crawls up his throat, and chokes him. A million things cross his mind—first, what the hell did he do to you? Did he hurt you? Joel would find the boy and break his fucking jaw. Did he touch you? Maybe he’d break the boy's hands instead. Or, worse, did he touch you when you didn’t want him to? The thought alone has his heart beating so fast he thinks he might die. Slowly, quietly, he asks, “What happened?”

“Nothing,” you sigh. And it isn’t one of those teenage girl nothings, it’s sincere. You climb over him to the other side of the mattress, and Joel thinks he should stop you but the sight of you in his bed is so fucking pretty that he can’t bring himself to. “That’s the problem. I wanted him to fuck me.”

The words give him pause. Everything freezes. 

“But he didn’t want to,” you say. “Even though we were flirting all day.” You turn on your side, hands beneath your head. “I don’t get it. Is it because I’m not pretty?”

He can’t stop the snort that leaves him at that. Joel can’t believe you’d wonder about it for even a second.

“Do you think I’m pretty, Joel?”

If there’s anything in the world he hates, it’s this. He wonders a little if maybe you’re antagonizing him. It’s a yes or no question, isn’t it? So why does saying yes feel so… heavy? Weighted? He decides it best to keep the conversation directed away from his personal opinion on the matter. “Of course you’re pretty, baby.”

Baby? God. Maybe he has lost his fucking mind.

But it seems to bring you so much joy he doesn’t have it in him to regret it. You wrap your small hands around his bicep, and he can feel the heat in your touch, and it’s like he’s burning from the inside out. And when you turn a little more and bring your leg across his hips, Joel can’t breathe. 

He wonders if you can tell how hard he is, wonders how he’s supposed to push you away when you just keep withering away his resolve. If he hasn’t lost his mind yet, he’s about to. “Is it okay if I sleep with you tonight?”

The words hit him like a freight train. But after a second, he realizes that you actually mean sleep —and he knows it’s a bad idea still because he’s having those intrusive thoughts once more. But he can’t say no. So instead he says, “I don’t think your dad would be comfortable with that.”

“I’ll tell him I had a sleepover with Sarah,” you quickly supplied. “I don’t want to be alone.”

He doesn’t either. But Joel knows he should be. And if not alone, certainly not with you. And yet, he says nothing. Not yes or no, just nothing. 

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Sure.”

“I think about you all the time,” you say. “I thought you were mad at me for a while. That made me sad, too.”

It made his chest ache to think he had caused you any harm. But it was for the best, wasn’t it? You probably just saw him as someone to seek comfort in, and he saw you as something entirely different. He was no good. Definitely not for you. 

A few minutes pass, and he thinks you’ve fallen asleep, but then you kiss his cheek again in the same spot as this afternoon and say, “Thank you, Joel.” And he feels so wrong. He feels awful, and selfish, and greedy, and desperate, and perverted.

He thinks that’s the end of it. But then you kiss his jaw, and this time it’s an open mouthed kiss that leaves wetness on his skin. Joel shivers. 

You kiss his neck, and his cock throbs inches from your thigh. He should stop this. He knows that. Joel isn’t a stupid man—he’s just a bad man. He doesn’t stop you when you climb into his lap. He doesn’t stop you when your tongue darts out between your lips as you kiss his collarbone. He doesn’t stop you when your kisses grow heated and heavy.

And when you kiss his lips, he doesn’t stop himself from kissing you back. He doesn’t stop himself from threading his fingers through your silky hair to pull you in deeper. He doesn’t stop himself from biting that bottom lip and sucking off the cherry flavor. He doesn’t stop himself from slipping his tongue into your mouth, or from lifting his hips just a little bit, pushing himself against you. The friction pulls a low groan from somewhere in the back of his throat, and Joel knows he won't be able to ever stop himself now. 

You take the small movement as your cue to unleash yourself and roll your hips against his even harder. He can feel the wet heat radiating from you even through the spandex shorts, can feel his benevolence fading into the ether. You let out a breathless moan when you roll your hips again, and again, and again. And he curses, muscles tight, and feels a confession on the tip of his tongue. Joel wants you to say it, just once — wants to hear his name in your mouth shrouded in lust. He’s imagined it so many times, but he wants to hear it. 

But then you pull away abruptly. “Joel?”

You sound mousy again, and he feels suddenly ice cold. “Yeah?”

“I think I’m gonna be sick.”

He holds your hair away from your face for the remainder of the night as you vomit up the rest of the tequila in your stomach. You apologize over and over again and greedily drink up the water he brings you. 

Normally, Joel would hate this. But it’s you, and something feels good about taking care of you. About making sure you’re safe, making sure you feel pretty even with sweat coating your pallid skin.

You fall asleep sometime in the middle of the night, and Joel carries you to his bed. He doesn’t climb in next to you. He can’t because he already feels bad enough for allowing a drunk eighteen year old girl into his bed. It’s his turn to feel nauseous. Shame smothers him, and guilt, and mortification…Joel knows he should feel regret, too. But he doesn’t. 

Sometime before sunrise, he nods off with his head resting against the bedside table. He doesn’t hear you leave, but when he wakes an hour later you’ve vacated the room. 

He wonders if you remember how you ended up in his bed, if you remember how eager he was to taste your mouth, if you remember anything at all. He hopes not, because that would mean a conversation he was not equipped to handle. 

When he trudges down to the kitchen, Joel stops upon the sight before him. Sarah sits at the kitchen table beside Tommy, who’s sitting across from your dad. And then there’s you—standing in the kitchen with a spatula in your hand and two still-wet braids in your hair.

It isn’t the fact that you’re in his kitchen, making pancakes for everyone, padding barefoot on the tile that makes him anxious. No one in the room can read his thoughts. They wouldn’t know how much it pleases him to see it. They wouldn’t know how he thinks he could get used to this, but knows he can’t.

No…no, it’s the fact that you’re wearing his flannel that makes him anxious. Your father wears flannels on occasion…but this one is so plainly Joel’s that he wonders why your dad is sitting there laughing at something Sarah said instead of killing Joel with his bare hands. He swallows thickly and pours himself a cup of coffee. 

“Good morning,” you say cheerily, as if last night hadn’t happened. He thinks you’ve forgotten, or maybe just decided not to ever mention it again.

It was only a lapse in judgment, after all, wasn’t it? Just a split second where you and Joel both lost all sense. It didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t. “Morning,” he responds. 

You ask him to help carry one of the heaping plates of fluffy pancakes to the table. When he reaches for the taller one, your hand brushes against his and Joel nearly jumps out of his skin at the contact. But then you’re holding your pinky out to him expectantly, and whisper, “Our little secret.” 

The vanilla scent is gone, Joel notices. You smell like irish spring instead. Realization dawns on him that you must have showered while he was asleep— and used his body wash. There’s something about that little tidbit of information that sits with him. He likes it, he thinks. He likes smelling himself all over you, likes that something possessed you to use his things without asking. Something inside of him shifts, something… intense. 

He knows he shouldn’t, but Joel winds his pinky finger around yours anyway. It feels so good to have yet another thing between the two of you. Something of yours that belongs only to him. It makes him feel giddy as if he wasn’t running on a single sip of coffee and an hour of sleep.

The remainder of the summer goes on without incident. You don’t end up in Joel’s bed again, though you never once leave his intrusive thoughts. He sees you sometimes, tanning in the backyard. He has a perfect view from his bedroom window, and he wonders if maybe you wear those tiny bikini tops for his benefit. But he never asks, even during the few moments you have alone, and is content to pine after you but not touch for the rest of his painfully sorry life. 

He works. You taunt him. He plays pool in your garage. You come home late in too little clothes and smelling of vanilla scented tequila. Joel says nothing, though. He listens and agrees with your dad that since graduating you’ve become a little wild . A little… defiant. They dance around the word bad, but Joel knows the truth. Knows that more than anything, you need a little bit of discipline. 

You’re not his to correct, though. So he doesn’t. He certainly enjoys watching you, however. He watches you sneak out through your window one night when he’s sitting on the porch. You press your finger to your lips, creating another secret between the two of you. He walks into the kitchen one night to find you filling a vodka bottle with water. Joel says nothing—but after grabbing another beer he’s got a smile on his lips he can’t seem to shake. 

He’s mowing the grass in the backyard one sunny afternoon, and he catches a glimpse of something he shouldn’t. Joel holds a lot of your secrets close these days, but this one is…different. 

Through your bedroom window, he can see you changing. The curtain is wide open, and you’re wearing nothing but that same pink bra he first saw you in, matching panties, and those knee high socks you used to wear with your cheer uniform. He’s not sure if you’re getting out of your clothes or into ones more comfortable, but he knows he can’t look away. His mouth is dry, and all the blood in his head rushes south. He thinks you’re beautiful. He wants to touch you so badly it’s overwhelming. The supple curves of your hips, the soft tendrils of your hair down your back, the swell of your breasts— God, you’re the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. 

And then you pick something up from the floor, and Joel realizes a second later that you’re putting on his flannel. The one you stole at the beginning of the summer. Do you wear it often? Do you always wear it alone, half naked in your bedroom? His lips part and his breath catches in his throat. He’s not there. He’s just standing in his backyard, ruining this patch of grass…but a part of him is. Something of his is there, with you, touching you, and somehow it sets him on fire. 

Especially when he watches you climb into bed. He won’t watch you sleep, he decides. He might have intrusive thoughts and secrets and uncontrollable fantasies, but he’s not a creep. 

Except you don’t go to sleep, so Joel continues to watch. He watches you run red painted fingers over your bare skin, between your breasts, over your belly, and back up. You do it again, slower this time, and Joel’s cock strains in his jeans. He watches you slip your hand beneath the band of your panties. He can’t see any details from this far away, but his breathing synchronizes with the speed of your fingers.

Suddenly, he remembers you’re still in his flannel. Realizes that you put it on to touch yourself. Pressure builds in his cock, and he finally admits that yeah— maybe he’s a little bit of a perv. But only for you—there’s something about you that drives him fucking insane. 

He stands there and watches you touch yourself until you finish. He revels in the small arch of your back, in the tremble of your legs, in the way your chest heaves with each ragged breath on the come down. He wants to clean you up with his fucking tongue. 

Joel doesn’t finish mowing the lawn that night.

When you go off to college, he can’t deny what a massive relief it is. You move across Texas to some campus far away, and the distance makes him feel like he can breathe easily again. He stops having so many disgusting, intrusive thoughts. He stops feeling guilty every time he plays pool with your dad because those secrets he kept for you were ones that don’t truly matter. Not when you’re nowhere to be found, anyway. 

As the year stretches on, Joel realizes that he’d been wrong all along. He wasn’t a pervert. You are a seductress. Even Tommy jokes about the obvious schoolgirl crush you had and admits one night when it’s just the two brothers that if you had thrown yourself at him, he wouldn’t have been able to resist you so easily as Joel had.

It’s not him that’s in the wrong. It’s you. You and your soft hair. You and your pretty smile. You and your red nails. You and your pink lace. You and your soft voice. You, you, you. 

For several years, those intrusive thoughts haven't plagued him. Not until your junior year of college, when some problem with campus housing surfaces and you’re forced to stay at home for a few days. Your dad is excited about it and forces the four of you to go out to dinner together to catch up. 

He sees you for the first time in so long, and you look so different but somehow even prettier. You’re wearing a short white dress, and Sarah tells you you look like an angel, and Joel silently agrees. You have a tattoo on the inside of your wrist. It’s the tiniest little image of two hands with their pinkies wrapped around one another, and he thinks it’s so fitting for a girl with so many secrets. 

Every time you look at him during dinner, Joel shifts in his seat. He isn’t very hungry. Not for food, anyway. He’s a little floored when you proudly present your shiny, brand new ID to the waitress and order a fruity pink drink called a Paloma. You explain that it has tequila in it, and share a subtle glance across the table, and Joel feels his insides warm as if he was the one drinking a cocktail instead. 

He drowns himself in work the entire week. He cannot— cannot afford to find himself back in his old ways. You’re a woman now. A fully grown woman, who no longer needs validation from older men. He knows you're not interested. He knows this time, this time, it really is Joel who’s the problem. Avoidance, surprisingly, works. 

Until you knock on the door one night with a DVD in your hand. “Is Sarah home? I found my old copy of Evil Dead. She said she missed having movie nights.”

Joel shakes his head. “No, uhm—she spent the night with a friend. Sorry.”

“Oh,” you deflate. “That’s okay, I get it. She’s older now. It’s…”

“Weird,” he finishes. 

You laugh softly, and the sound brings a smile to his face. “Yeah, really weird,” you agree. “I just hope she’s nothing like me.”

“Why’s that?” Your eyes darken, and Joel asks himself why he’s attempting to make conversation at all. It’s dangerous. He knows this. 

“You know,” you say purposefully. “All those secrets? There were definitely more.”

For a reason he can’t pinpoint, it makes him a little annoyed. He knew it the whole time—of course,  he knew there were more secrets than just the ones he was privy to. But a part of him wanted to know you better than anyone else. And maybe he did, for a second, but that second was long gone now. It was probably over moments after it began. “Yeah, well…that’s different.”

“How so? She’s only a little younger than I was when I met you.”

It’s an accusation. Joel can feel it. He can feel the anger seeping through your fake sweetness, too. But he doesn’t understand it. He didn’t do anything wrong. “You’re not my daughter. That’s what’s different.”

You roll your eyes, and his hands twitch with the urge to grab you by the jaw. “God, Joel—you’re such a pussy. Do you know that?”

Your words startle him. A crease forms between his brows, and he takes another step out of the doorway. “ Excuse me ?”

“Just say it! Say what you so desperately want to say. I can take it. Say it.”

The words come out slow and deadly, sounding far meaner than intended. “Say what?” 

“Tell me it’s different because I’m a slut. It’s okay, Joel. It’s just the two of us now. Go ahead. Admit it.”

His jaw ticks. 

“What, you think I’m dumb? You think I don’t hear you laugh at Tommy’s jokes when I walk out of a room? You think I didn’t know you guys called me jailbait for years?” You laugh cynically, arms crossed over your chest, and Joel thinks he’s never seen you so angry. So heated. 

So hot.

He grabs your elbow and yanks you close. “Have you lost your fucking mind?”

Your face is inches from his, and he can smell vanilla and cherry and something happens. Something familiar and unique to you. Something disgusting. “And you know what the worst part of it all is?”

The worst part is that he’s twice your age. The worst part is that he’s known you since you were in high school. The worst part is that he’s friends with your father. The worst part is that you’re friends with his daughter. The worst part is that those perverted thoughts were never involuntary. They were never unavoidable. They were never unwanted. They were never intrusive. 

“You like it,” you say with a smirk. “You like that I dress up in short skirts for you, and you like it when I climb in your bed when someone else leaves me unsatisfied. I almost finished that day, did you know?”

“ Jesus—fuck —don’t—”

“You barely touched me but I was so close just sitting in your lap. You like that I put on your clothes and touch myself in front of my window, hoping you’ll see. You like that I’m a slut for you, Joel Miller. Admit it. It’s okay. It’ll be our little secret .”

He pulls you into the house and slams the front door closed. His blood boils beneath his skin. He should have slammed it in your face, he thinks. But you’re here now—trapped inside with him. Or maybe he’s trapped inside with you. 

The pleased smile on your face is his undoing. His breath comes fast, and he knows if he moves an inch there will never be any going back from this. So he doesn’t move. His limbs are frozen and his eyes are fixed on yours.

After a couple of tense filled seconds, your smile falters. Joel sees it. He hears the slight change in your voice too, as you confess, “I want you to touch me so badly.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck —Joel holds your face in his hands and slams his mouth to yours. You taste just the same; cherry sweet and delicious. It’s his favorite flavor, he thinks. Better than any forbidden fruit. Your tongue is so soft against his and impossibly more greedy. You invade his mouth, his soul, his heart. 

It happens so fast, and so easily. Your arms loop around his neck and Joel pulls you flush against him and grips the back of your thighs. He lifts you up and you wrap your legs around his waist, hips already rolling against him like some feral thing inside of you is desperately clawing to get out. His cock has never been this hard, Joel knows. And he knows—he knows that he could cum just like this. Touching you, tasting you, feeling your softness. It’s enough. 

Still, he wants more. He wants to see you fall apart. He wants to reach inside your chest and make you feel what he feels, make you feel tortured the way he’s been for years. 

Joel walks to the sofa and sits with his legs spread wide. You’re still kissing him with everything you have, and it’s a clash of tongues and lips and teeth that he loves so much it’s an effort to thread his fingers into the hair at the nape of your neck and pull you away, but he does it. You’re both panting, and you let out a whimper at the loss of contact. His cock is throbbing, straining behind his jeans. “Put your money where your mouth is, baby,” he says breathlessly. “You wanna act like a slut for me, be a slut for me.”

He fists your dress in his hands and pulls it up and over your head, tossing it to the floor. And then it’s just you, sitting in Joel’s lap, wearing nothing but pink, lace panties and a pair of strappy white heels. You’re so pretty, and he’s always known it—but seeing you up close has him weak. He can’t keep himself from touching you, from running his hands over your hips and living the fantasy he’s existed in for what feels like forever. 

Once he starts, Joel can’t stop. He runs his calloused palms over your belly, your ribs, allowing his thumbs to ghost across the underside of your breasts. He moves slowly, meticulously, enjoying every moment. And when you hook your thumbs in the band of your panties with the intention to remove them, he places his hands over yours. “Hell no,” he says. “You think you can tell me you almost finished in my lap that night and get away with it?” 

“But, I—”

“Nuh-uh. Prove it.”

Hesitantly, you tilt your hips against his. He wishes he was in only sweatpants the way he was that night because his jeans are keeping the feeling of your wetness away from him this time. But he can see it—the baby pink fabric is darker at the apex, and as you grind your hips against his Joel realizes you’re creating a mess on his clothes, too. 

He understands. He really, really does. He feels it, too. Joel understands how desperate and needy you are. And because he’s just so understanding, he grants you a little reprieve. He leans forward and takes your nipple into his mouth. He’s real sweet about it too, giving you the same tender treatment your mouth gave him that night in his room. He licks the hardened peak softly, swirling his tongue, and you let out the prettiest moan he’s ever heard. The pace of your hips picks up, rolling against the bulge in his jeans faster. 

“Oh, god,” you whimper. Your breath catches, and he can hear your heart beating rapidly behind your ribcage. He peppers kisses across your sternum and inhales deeply, sucking in a breath that’s nothing but you and holding it in his lungs. He kisses your other nipple and pinches the one wet with his spit between his thumb and forefinger. 

He sucks your nipple into his mouth and groans when you fist your hands in his hair. You sound so pretty, he thinks—and he leans back on the couch to admire just how pretty you look. He can’t catch his breath, but he doesn’t mind.

Your pace falters the slightest bit, and your chest is heaving a little slower now. He sinks lower into the couch and thrusts his hips up into you—once, twice, and your legs are shaking. “Aww,” he coos. “You’re so sensitive, baby. Look at you.”

Too lost in your own bliss, Joel decides to help you, to teach you. He grabs your chin and forces it down, forces your attention to where your bodies are joined.

“I told you to look,” he repeats. Joel turns his fingers in the waistband of your panties and pulls them taught, creating even more pressure against your clit. The pink fabric immediately becomes darker, sopping up some of the mess you’ve created on top of him, and Joel intends to make good on his wish to clean you up with his tongue. But not yet—not when you still have something to prove. “You gonna cum just like that? Hm?”

You nod frantically, your attention flickering between his dark eyes and your panties clutched between his thick fingers. “ Yes,” you tell him, legs trembling. Your pace is quick, and each roll of your hips becomes shorter and shorter. And with Joel moving underneath you it only takes seconds more before you combust. “Oh, fuck—fuck—I’m coming, I’m coming—!”

“That’s it,” he says, and you feel the deep timbre of his voice skitter across your skin like embers. “There you go. You’re being such a good slut for me, hm?”

When your orgasm finally fizzles out, you fall limply forward and Joel is there to catch you, like he always has been, like he silently vows he always will be. He rubs soothing circles against your spine and presses sweet kisses into your hair, waiting patiently as you try and regain what little composure you have left. 

You lift your head from the crook of his neck, and your eyes are glossy and your bottom lip is swollen and your cheeks are flushed with a rosy hue, and Joel thinks you’ve never been more beautiful. But then you slide from his lap to the floor in one fluid movement, and he realizes that this is the prettiest you’ve ever been; on your knees before him, eyes bright with anticipation and excitement. You place your hands on top of his strong thighs, look up at him through your lashes and ask softly, “Can I suck your dick, Joel?”

He has to squeeze his eyes shut. He has to because his cock is so fucking hard and your voice is so sweet and filthy he can’t handle it. He breathes in slowly through his nose and says, “Of course you can, baby.”

Without a moment's hesitation, you unbuckle his belt. The metal clinks in your fingers, and Joel’s heart is racing when you unbutton his jeans and hook your thumbs through the loops to tug them down. His cock snaps against his belly, and you lick your pink lips.

You take it in your hands, and Joel aches when you swipe your tongue over the tip, tasting the salty sweetness of his precum. He can’t believe this is really happening, that you’re really here, running your sweet, sweet tongue over every inch of his cock. You’re tasting him, savoring him, and Joel wonders if it pleases you to see him all bent out of shape like this. 

He prides himself on his masculinity. He’s always been a strong man, one who handles his shit on his own. Maybe it’s the Texas in him, but Joel’s always had traditional values. He’s always been the provider, the protector—he’s always been the one in charge. But when you wrap your lips around him and ease his cock into your hot, wet mouth, he’s at your complete mercy. 

“ Fuck,” he hisses, hands going to your hair. He tangles the silky strands between his fingers, and you hollow out our cheeks, creating a suction that has him groaning. He feels each pass of your lips down his spine, pressure forming low in his belly. “Just like that, pretty girl.”

You wrap your hand around the base and stroke the length you can’t fit into your mouth, and his grip in your hair tightens. Your nails are painted red—and the look of them wrapped around his cock is far better than he’d ever been able to imagine in his head. It’s so good that he doesn’t want to stop, he wants to cum just like this. He wants to expend himself at the back of your throat and watch his cum leak out of your mouth.

But Joel doesn’t get too far ahead of himself. There are other things, filthier things he wants to do to you than fill your mouth up. You let out a whiny groan as if sucking him off is somehow more pleasurable for you than it is for him. It’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen, and the vibrations nearly send him over the edge, but Joel rips your head back to prolong this precious time with you. 

Your eyes are glassy, makeup smeared, lips swollen. You give him a beaming smile and Joel huffs a breath. “Did I do a good job?”

“ Yes, baby,” he says. “You did so well. C’mere, stand up.” You do as told, even though your legs are wobbly, and Joel lifts your foot into his lap. He unbuckles the straps of your heel, takes it off and sets it aside. He presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh and repeats the action with the other one, and then proceeds to pull your panties down your legs. He helps you out of the pink lace, and he knows he shouldn’t but he just can’t help himself and shoves them between the couch cushions, where he hopes you’ll forget about them.

He presses his mouth to your hip bone, an open mouthed kiss that leaves goosebumps in its wake as he does the same to your other side. “That feels so good,” you tell him.

Joel keeps peppering wet kisses across your belly, below your navel, over your pubic bone. Your thighs are pressed together, and you’re shifting on your feet in anticipation, and Joel can see the shiny wetness coating your pussy. He reaches between your legs and so gently slides his middle finger teasingly over your slit. It comes away sticky and wet, and he can’t resist the urge to lick the digit clean. It’s heady and sweet, and he feels drunker than whiskey or tequila has ever made him. “Oh, sweetheart,” he says, forehead falling against your abdomen. “What are you doing to me?”

“It’s okay,” you tell him. “I want you so bad, Joel. Please touch me.” Your hands are in his hair, stroking the unruly curls and lightly pulling.

The word please in your mouth sounds so fucking cute, so needy and desperate. What is he supposed to do? How is he supposed to be a good man when you exist? He can’t, Joel knows. So long as you’re near—he’ll never be a good man. Only a bad one. Only a perverse one. He hooks his arm around your leg and lifts it over his shoulder, keeping his other hand wrapped around your waist for balance, and lets himself taste you fully, to drink from the source. 

And Jesus Christ, Joel loses it. He laps at your pussy, swallowing you up. He cleans up the mess you made in his lap, relishing in the decadence. He could do this for hours, he thinks. Could swirl his tongue around your swollen clit, could suck it between his lips, and kiss it softly for the rest of his life. He breathes in slowly, taking your scent deep into his lungs, and wonders why he’d ever want to come up for air. Your moans are music to his ears.

He dares a glance up at you to watch your expression when he reaches beneath you and slips a finger easily into your dripping pussy. 

Your head falls back, your mouth falls open, and Joel falls in love. 

The noises you make are obscene as you grind against his face, but not nearly as much as the sounds he’s making from between your legs. He’s groaning with your clit in his mouth and you’re creating a puddle in his palm, and it’s so sloppy and disgusting and he fucking loves it. 

Joel silently admits that you were right; that he loves your obscenities. He loves your secrets. He loves your defiance. He loves your depravity. 

He loves that you’re such a fucking slut. 

“Oh, god— Joel—!”

He pulls away because if you’re going to moan out his name again it’s going to be because of his cock. He stands abruptly, keeping one hand at the small of your back, and holds your jaw. With your face tilted up towards him, he smirks as he watches tears form in your eyes. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Why did you stop?” Your voice is so whiny, so hopeless and frantic that it makes his cock twitch. “You were about to make me cum,” you say.

He kisses you hard, and you moan into his mouth, and Joel runs out of patience. He lifts you up and lays your back flat against the couch. He’s hovering over you, and his cock is just inches from the place it’s wept to be inside for so many years. Joel rolls it against you, gasping at the feel of your pussy on the underside of his cock. You’re so wet, and he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to last long enough for this to be good for you. 

But he’s determined. “ Joel,” you beg breathlessly, bucking your hips to try and find just the right angle where he slips inside.

“Yeah, baby?” He tilts his head slightly, watching as your eyes flicker back and forth between his hips and his predatory grin. 

“You’re being mean,” you say. “Stop teasing me. Just put it in, Joel, I need it so bad.”

He kisses your forehead. “S’that right?”

“Yes!”

It’s impossible, he thinks, to hold back his laugh. “You’re so fucking cute, baby,” he says. “Say please.”

“ Please! Please, please ple—!”

Joel lets out a ragged breath as he pushes into you. Finally, he thinks. Finally, finally, finally. “Fuck.”

It’s so much better than he ever imagined. He sinks in deep until your hips are flush, and even then he pushes your knee back to open you up and get impossibly deeper. 

“Oh my god,” you whimper, and Joel kisses you to swallow up the beautiful sound. 

You take him like you were made for his cock. And maybe you were, because Joel had never known it could be this fucking good. He knows it’ll never be this good again. “You’re taking it like such a good slut, baby,” he whispers into your ear, tongue sliding up your neck. He pulls his hips back and snaps them forward, the sudden change in force ripping a cry from your throat. “Shhh, it’s okay. You can take it.”

With your arms and legs wrapped around him, Joel fucks you slow. Real slow, real deep—he’s touching parts of you you didn’t even know existed. You feel so full and pressure coils around your spine. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, yes yes— mmm—!”

He sets a steady pace, hitting that soft spot inside of you every time. He reaches between your bodies and swipes this thumb over your clit. “Say thank you, baby.”

You look right into his eyes, warm and dark and full of devotion. You say, “ Thank you, Joel,” and you suddenly remember the same memory he does of that first day. 

He remembers how pretty you looked on your knees, and you remember how you spent that whole night in your bed touching yourself to him. 

And now it’s happened, it’s finally happened, and his cock is buried deep inside of you and his thumb is pressing hard against your clit and before he realizes it, your pussy is squeezing him as you cum. 

Tremors rock through your body, legs shaking and red painted fingernails clawing at his back. He keeps his same steady pace and says, “Give it to me, baby. Good fucking girl, being such a good little slut for me. That’s it. Give it to me. There you go.”

Even when your muscles loosen, you keep your limbs wound around him tight. Like even though you’ve finished and he’s seconds away from following you there, you still want him as close as possible. It makes him feel tender. “I want you to cum inside me,” you say, and Joel’s cock spasms in your tight pussy. “Cum in me, Joel, please —fill me up.”

He shouldn’t, he really fucking shouldn’t, but he already is, and stars blur his vision. Joel fights through the blindness though, and squeezes your cheeks in his hand. “Look at me,” he orders, and looking at your face makes him cum even harder. You take his thumb into your mouth, soft tongue circling it. And Joel bottoms out inside of you, has the best orgasm of his entire fucking life inside of a girl half his age, but cannot bring himself to regret a single second.

The weight of him over you is heavy but comforting. It’s perfect, and helps you catch your breath. Joel is panting, and you smell like vanilla and irish spring and cherry chapstick and when his eyes close, he wonders if he’s died and gone to heaven. 

Your fingers are stroking his spine lazily when the fear creeps in. Do you regret it? Now that it’s out of your system, do you wish you’d never have done it? Never have taunted him, never had let him keep all those secrets, never have come over tonight? The Evil Dead DVD sits on the floor by the front door, abandoned. 

There couldn’t have been much tequila in your mixed drink. You didn’t taste like alcohol at all. But still, you’d had some—do you feel like maybe he took advantage of you? 

Joel is afraid to look at you. He’s afraid to open his mouth, to ask if you’re alright, to apologize, to beg for your forgiveness. 

But then you ask him softly, “Is it okay if I sleep with you tonight?”

He hears the echo of those words, and wonders if you do, too. You wince as he finally sits up and pulls himself out of you. He knows he should say no, but he can’t. Instead, he asks, “Will you make pancakes in the morning?”

The sound of your girlish laughter greets him and calms his fears for now. “Anything you want.”

Joel stops at the bathroom on the way to his bed and cleans the sticky mess from between your legs. It’s then as he realizes how many unhinged decisions he’d made tonight. He doesn’t know if you’ve slept with other people without protection, doesn’t know if you’re on birth control, doesn’t know if you’d be willing to take a contraceptive pill in the morning if you’re not, doesn’t know anything. The distance, while easier, has taken so much of you from him. And the realization leaves Joel cold. 

You’re so young, and he’s so much older than you…if the worst happened, would it even be the worst? Do you even want kids? 

A new fantasy emerges in his brain. The first one since admitting to himself that it’s a little more than just an intrusive thought. You’re standing on the back porch with a beaming smile, hand over your eyes to block out the bright summer sun while he mows the lawn. You’re in a pretty pink sundress, and your belly is swollen with Joel’s baby, and his knees buckle as he leads you to his bedroom. 

You climb in beside him, and he holds you under the blankets a little tighter than you hold him. Emotion chokes him. Joel swallows it down. But then you ask, “What’s wrong?”

“I want to keep you,” he confesses. “I want to keep you forever.”

For a moment, it’s quiet. He wonders if maybe you think he’s going to say more, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t know what else to say. He doesn’t have anything else to say. 

“So do it,” you whisper. 

“But I can’t.”

“You can,” you tell him with a sigh. “You can, Joel. That’s the real secret.”

The words reverberate through him. They clang around in his brain and leave him with something akin to elation. You kiss his jaw, and Joel thinks maybe you might be right. Maybe he will keep you. 

But for tonight, having you here pressed against him with the promise of pancakes in the morning is enough.

[PART TWO]

[masterlist]

divider by @thecutestgrotto <3

[lotusbxtch]

Put My Body To Work

Pairing: Jackson!Joel x f!Reader Word count: 622 Rating: Explicit 18+ MDNI Tags: PWP, squirting (like this is a central part of the fic so if you don't like it, keep scrolling), unprotected PIV (do better, they're doing their best in an apocolypse), pulling out as a BC method, cum, fluids, seriously messy, allusions to fingering and oral (f receiving), Joel is a menace per usual, age gap implied but not specified, Reader is able bodied and has female genitalia but otherwise undescribed. a/n: the horny demons hath possessed me. don't know where this came from but it materialized in a group chat with @for-a-longlongtime and @mountainsandmayhem. happy hump day! bonus points if you can guess which Hozier song this is from.

Masterlist

Headcanon: Jackson!Joel finding out you’ve never squirted before — and after the apocalypse happened you didn’t really have access to any instructions on how to — and now he’s obsessed with being the first one to make you squirt. Once he gets you to do it the first time, he wants to get you to do it more often than not. 

After a little practice, he knows your body cues well enough to bring you to that peak easily using his fingers and tongue. Rhythmic, fast flicks of his wrist, his thick fingers buried in your sopping cunt, toying with your clit just right, and pressing right above your pubic bone has you crying out his name, your ecstasy spurting and soaking him at his command. Getting you there makes his chest puff with pride and salacious desire.

But now he wants you to do it on his cock.

He’s got you straddling him reverse cowgirl on his bed, both of you sitting up and facing his bedroom mirror, because he wants you to watch yourself as you squirt. 

“Y’look so beautiful when you do it, baby, want you to see for yourself,” he murmurs, encouraging you to work yourself on his dick, your body rolling and grinding and your whimpers like the sweetest song to him. Presses his big hand on your lower belly to help increase the pressure, your fingers swirling around your swollen clit.

Your thighs start to shake with exertion and he takes over, holding your hips up as he hammers into your sweet spot. Your brows knit together and your lips pop open, panting and moaning his name. Sweat shimmers like a veil across your skin and his, the scent of sex as thick in the air as the sound of your squelching cunt.

“C’mon sugar, you can do it,” Joel grunts into your ear, fingers dimpling your supple skin. “I feel you squeezing me so tight. Pretty pussy’s so soft and wet f’me.” His voice is tight with his impending release, but he’s holding himself back for you, for your pleasure. 

You feel the pressure mounting, and your whimpers become whines, louder and louder until you’re nearly screaming. Joel pumps his thick cock into you at the perfect pace, rocketing you higher and higher. Suddenly, you feel your nerves gathering at your core, strung taut like a bowstring.

“Oh fuck, Joel…” you whimper, “I think… I think I’m gonna… oh GOD…!”

The drop happens, and you shatter for him, orgasm rippling through your veins. Then, that delicious tension snaps. Just as Joel moves one hand from your hip to grip your chin, turning your face to the mirror, you squirt. Your wide eyes watch yourself in fascination as clear liquid sprays from the apex of your thighs across your lap, Joel’s cock, and the bedsheets. It is a sight to behold.

Joel moans devotedly. “Perfect little pussy squirting all over my cock… good girl, baby… so pretty….” he babbles. Then he’s biting a moan in half as he pulls out, cock pulsing and cum shooting across your pussy lips and inner thighs, dripping onto the bed.

You both collapse against each other on your sides, bodies slick and sticky. Breathing heavily, Joel whimpers as his cock gives one more small spurt against the small of your back, and then he’s kissing your neck, running his hands across the combination of fluids marking your bodies.

“Made a fuckin’ mess,” he huffs, holding you close against him anyway.

Your ass grinds against his lap, reveling for a moment in the debauched sensations. You hum contentedly, then turn your head to smirk at him, because you don’t give a damn this time. “Ain’t my turn to do the laundry, honey.”

Taglist (assuming you like horny menace Joel): @sin-djarin @penvisions @perotovar @mermaidgirl30 @whocaresstillthelouvre @jeewrites @joelmillerisapunk @qveerthe0ry @qunariagenda @syd-djarin @goodwithcheese @guiltyasdave @reggiesfilthylittlesecret @campingwiththecharmings @reallyrallyauthor @itwasntimethatdidit40 @baronessvonglitter @evolnoomym @hoeruiness @hellishjoel @kedsandtubesocks @luxurychristmaspudding @nicolethered @notjustjavierpena @javierpena-inatacvest @julesonrecord @slimybeth69 @chaotic-mystery @missdictatorme @max--phillips @ozarkthedog @oonajaeadira @ohhoneypascal

[millersdoll]

this is so dbf!joel LIKE ARE YOU SEEING THIS???

[worlds-we-write]

The Librarian's Secret

pairing: Jackson!joel miller x librarian!reader

summary: You run Jackson’s quiet little library, and Joel Miller keeps showing up asking for books he doesn’t read—because what he really wants is you.

Tags: Joel Miller x Reader, Jackson era, librarian reader, secret romance, slow burn, mutual pining, friends to lovers, smut, explicit content, dirty talk, possessive Joel, praise kink, rough sex, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, after-hours sex, emotional intimacy, library setting, hidden relationship.

MDNI, 18+ only

My Masterlist

You weren't sure when Joel Miller became your favorite patron, but somewhere between quiet afternoons and dog-eared pages, he did.

Joel started visiting the tiny Jackson library every Thursday afternoon, always around the same time—three o'clock. At first, he was all gruff nods and minimal conversation, his voice a comforting rasp in the library’s quiet. He'd ask for recommendations, something good, something he “hadn't read yet.” But you quickly realized Joel wasn't actually reading any of the books he checked out. Still, you played along.

"Try this one," you'd suggest gently, handing him novels heavy with quiet longing, subtle heartbreak, or tender reunions. Each time, Joel accepted the book from your hands, his fingers brushing yours just a fraction longer than necessary. You always pretended you didn't notice, but the warmth of his touch lingered long after he'd gone.

He returned the books each week with the same straight face and a quiet “thanks.” Sometimes the spines looked untouched, sometimes you spotted a folded corner, but somehow, you knew it wasn’t the story he cared about. Not the one on the pages, anyway.

Months passed this way, a dance of pretend reading and lingering touches, of quiet, unspoken tension building steadily beneath the surface. You told yourself he was just a lonely man seeking routine. But you noticed how his gaze would follow you as you shelved returns, how his hand hovered near yours when you handed him a new title. It was all just beneath the surface, but it was there. And it made your heart ache in the best way.

Eventually, curiosity—and maybe courage—got the best of you.

Joel stood by the desk one Thursday, eyes scanning titles he'd never choose. His hair was slightly mussed, his shirt soft and faded from work. You watched him carefully, pulse quickening as you decided today would be the day you'd finally ask.

“You know,” you began softly, leaning forward on your elbows, "I don't think you've read a single book I've ever given you."

Joel paused, fingers brushing the worn spine of an old western. He straightened slowly, turning fully toward you, dark eyes unreadable. “You sayin’ I’m wastin’ your time?”

You shook your head gently, lips curving into a teasing smile. “Not exactly. But I want to know why you keep coming back.”

Joel exhaled slowly, running a rough hand through salt-and-pepper curls. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken truth, until finally, Joel's eyes softened. “I come here for you,” he admitted quietly, voice like a confession. “Not the books.”

Your breath caught, heart fluttering in your chest. “Oh.”

He stepped closer, movements deliberate, watching your face carefully. You didn't move away—in fact, you found yourself leaning into the warmth radiating from his broad frame.

“That okay with you?” His voice was cautious, nearly a whisper, like he was sharing something delicate and fragile.

“More than okay,” you whispered back.

From that day on, everything shifted. It started with a shared smile when he walked in, your fingers brushing intentionally instead of by accident. Then came the whispers behind shelves, words that meant everything and nothing: I missed you. You smell good today. You been thinkin’ about me?

It didn’t take long for those words to become stolen kisses. Quick at first, hesitant. The kind that left your lips tingling and your chest aching. You pressed him into the stacks one evening, breathless and bold, and he kissed you back like he was starving.

You learned the little things fast—how he liked to rest his hand at the small of your back, how his thumb would stroke the side of your neck when he kissed you. How he muttered your name like a prayer, or a curse, depending on how desperate the moment was.

But the secrecy was a weight. You kept your distance when others were around, careful not to let eyes linger too long, not to smile too wide. Joel was a private man, and you respected that. Still, the ache in your chest grew every time he left the library with nothing more than a nod.

The tension built like a storm cloud. You felt it in the way his touches lingered, how his gaze dropped to your mouth and stayed there. How his jaw flexed when you laughed too hard at something another man said. The air between you sparked every time he came near, but it was never enough.

Until one night, it was.

You’d stayed late to reorganize the reference section. Joel showed up after hours, said he forgot to return a book. He didn’t have one in his hands.

“Lock the door,” he murmured, voice low, rough with something he’d clearly been holding back.

You did. You barely had time to turn before he was on you—his hands gripping your hips, his mouth crashing into yours like a wave breaking on the shore. There was nothing hesitant now. This was hunger, months of it, poured into every movement.

Joel guided you back into the reading room, moonlight slicing through the tall windows, throwing shadows across the shelves. It was quiet except for your breathing, the rustle of clothes, the hurried click of buttons and zippers.

“You sure?” he asked, even then, his forehead pressed to yours.

“Joel,” you breathed, tugging at his shirt. “I need you.”

He groaned, deep and desperate, and the rest unraveled quickly.

Clothes fell away like petals, slow and reverent. Joel laid you down on the rug near the fireplace, his eyes raking over your body like he was memorizing it.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, calloused hands skimming your sides. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

He kissed you everywhere—your throat, your chest, your belly—like he was worshipping, not just wanting. When his mouth found your core, you gasped, hips lifting toward him.

He took his time, fingers gripping your thighs, tongue working you until you were writhing. You came apart with a cry, your fingers tangled in his hair, your body shaking beneath him.

Joel didn’t stop. He kissed his way back up, lips slick with your pleasure, whispering your name like he needed it to breathe.

When he finally pushed inside you, it felt like something bigger than sex. Like trust. Like surrender.

His rhythm was slow at first, controlled. Every thrust deliberate, every kiss a promise. But the need built fast, urgency breaking through his restraint.

You met him stroke for stroke, hands clutching his back, heels digging into the floor. He growled your name as he buried himself deep, his body trembling against yours.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice rough and raw. “I’ve got you.”

But Joel didn’t stop there.

He rolled his hips with more force, deeper now, until you cried out again, nails scratching along his shoulders. One of his hands slipped between your bodies, finding your clit, circling it in tight, practiced motions.

“You gonna come again for me?” he rasped. “Wanna feel you come while I’m inside you.”

“Joel—” You gasped, breath broken and high. “I’m so close—”

“That’s it, baby,” he said through gritted teeth. “Let me feel it. Been waitin’ so long for this. So fuckin’ long. Always thinkin’ about how sweet this pussy would feel. Didn’t disappoint.”

Your orgasm hit harder the second time, more intense, your body clenching around him, thighs shaking. Joel swore under his breath, hips stuttering as he tried to hold himself back.

But you weren’t done. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him even deeper.

“Harder,” you whispered, voice gone hoarse. “I want all of you.”

He gave it to you.

He braced himself over you, driving into you hard and fast now, the room echoing with the sounds of skin meeting skin, of your moans and his breathless curses. Sweat slicked his back, and his lips never stopped—kissing your jaw, your collarbone, the corner of your mouth.

“Fuck, baby, you take me so good,” he growled into your ear. “So tight, like you were made for me. This what you think about in here when you’re all alone? Bein’ spread out on this floor, takin’ my cock?”

You whimpered, your body jerking with each hard thrust. “Yes. God, yes, Joel—always.”

“You’re mine now,” he muttered, voice dark and possessive. “You understand me? No one else gets to see you like this. No one else gets this sweet little cunt.”

“Yours,” you gasped, overwhelmed. “I’m yours.”

“You bet your ass you are.”

You flipped suddenly, rolling him onto his back with a breathless laugh, straddling him. Joel’s eyes widened slightly in surprise but darkened with hunger.

“Fuck, look at you,” he said, his voice thick with awe. “You’re a goddamn dream. Ridin’ me like you were made for it.”

You sank down onto him slowly, savoring the stretch, watching his face twist in pleasure.

“Ride me,” he growled. “Show me how bad you want it. Let me see those tits bounce while you fuck yourself on my cock.”

You moved with purpose, rocking your hips, leaning forward so your chest pressed to his, your lips brushing his ear. “You think about this while you’re pretendin’ to read?”

“All the fuckin’ time,” Joel hissed. “Think about you bent over that desk. On your knees in the stacks. Cryin’ and beggin’ for my cock.”

You clenched around him at his words, crying out again.

“You like it when I talk like that?” he asked, voice smug and breathless.

You nodded, too far gone to answer properly. He sat up, wrapped his arms tight around your waist, and fucked up into you with power.

“Joel—Joel—I’m gonna—”

“Come, baby. Come on my cock. That’s it, you’re so good—so fuckin’ good—makin’ a mess all over me. I wanna feel you soak me, darlin’.”

The orgasm ripped through you, and this time you screamed his name, body shaking uncontrollably. Joel came with you, burying his face in your neck, groaning loudly as he pulsed deep inside you.

He held you through it, his hand splayed across your back, keeping you pressed tight to him. Still buried inside, still panting.

“You ruin me,” he whispered, pressing soft kisses to your temple. “Don’t want anyone else. Just you, sweetheart.”

“Good,” you whispered back, tracing patterns into his skin. “Cause I’m not lettin’ you go.”

“Worth waitin’ for,” he murmured into your hair.

You smiled against his skin. “Definitely.”

The library stayed your secret. The books Joel never read became symbols of something far more important: a love story written between the lines, hidden in quiet corners, unfolding one Thursday at a time.

And now, when he asked for a recommendation, he didn’t mean fiction. He meant you. Every time.

AN: Joel pretending to read just to rail the librarian? Yeah, I blacked out writing this. Hope it made you feral. 💋

[daryltwdixon]

this is my fic for @pedgito's Spring Fever writing challenge with these prompts: Slasher, Camp, & Sensory Deprivation (sorry, took camp pretty loosely here)

|| nsfw 18+, DDDNE, DARK!JOEL, slasher!joel, cnc!!! dubious consent!!! if it aint for you scroll tf on by!!! stalker vibes, fingering, sensory deprivation, fear play, mask kink, predator/prey, forced orgasm || a/n: alright fam I was gonna wait to post this but that anon this morning pmo. sooooo enjoy!!! the pic of joel is mine I took from the game. this fic is not for everyone!! heeeeed the warningsssss

You’ve never known darkness like this.

A darkness so thick, so absolute. There was no moon, no stars, no relief from the smothering, blinding darkness. It was just…black. The kind that makes your head swim, makes your ears strain for sounds that aren’t there. Or ones that are. You don’t know what’s worse.

You’ve been running for what feels like forever.

Your lungs burn, your legs are lead, each step feeling heavier than the last. The underbrush fights against you like mangled hands—branches clawing at the flesh of your arms, brambles catching on the exposed skin of your thighs. The uneven ground is a cruel thing, tripping you up again and again, sending you crashing into tree trunks, the bark scraping into your palms as you barely catch yourself before hitting the dirt.

But you don’t stop.

Because something or someone is behind you.

You don’t know how far. You don’t know how close. But the sound of it has been chasing you, steady and relentless—the snap of branches, the dull thud of heavy footsteps somewhere just out of reach.

You’ve completely lost track of time. Your one and only source of light was left behind what feels like a lifetime but was only a matter of days ago. There was simply no time to think of your flashlight back in your tent when you had to run. But you don’t know how long it’s been since then. Everything past survival has blurred together.

You don’t know where you are.

But you have to stop.

You have to stop.

You won’t make it much farther if you don’t. Your legs are giving out beneath you, every step turning into a stumble, every breath dragging too hard, too deep, too loud. Your hands shake as you catch yourself crashing down between the thick, twisted roots of a tree, ignoring the ache in your knees, the sharp edges of the bark biting into your spine as you press yourself against it.

It’s quiet now.

The first real silence you’ve had in hours. Maybe it’s over. Maybe you ran far enough.

You think of your only saving grace, stashed deep in your pocket, and you dig your fingers past fabric and grit, searching for the thin slip of cardboard. When you finally pinch the matchbook between your fingers, pulling it from the confines of your shorts, you blindly flick it open. Your hands are clumsy, stiff and shaking.

Five matches left.

You hesitate. It’s not safe here, but the dark is worse. You can’t even see your hands in front of you. Can’t see anything. It’s like your eyes are stretching, playing tricks on you as they try to pull something—anything—out of the blackness.

You pull out a match, feel for the strip, and strike it fast.

The spark flares bright, too bright, your pupils contracting hard. The flame wavers between your fingers, small and flickering, but enough to push the dark back. Enough to let you see—

Movement.

No. Not movement. Reflection.

A quick, sharp gleam across the clearing. Faint, almost nothing, but there. Something smooth catching the light and throwing it back at you in a thin, distorted line.

You squint, trying to make sense of it. Not water, but almost like glass—warped, uneven.

Then you see it. A round, fogged-over lens, slightly misshapen, reflecting the weak glow of the match. Another next to it. Not eyes, but something meant to mimic them.

And metal. A hard, curved surface, dark but slick enough to catch the light, the shape of it unmistakable now.

A gas mask.

Your stomach turns violently, bile rising in your throat.

The figure doesn’t move—if it even is a person, you can’t be sure. The lenses catch the weak light, blank and unblinking. It could be a trick of the dark, your eyes playing games with the shapes between the trees. You feel like you can hardly trust them anymore.

Your match goes out.

Your breath catches, sitting too high in your chest, refusing to move. Reaching for another match, your fingers stiff, you fumble for another. Four left. 

You strike it fast. The flame bursts to life, searing bright for just a second—just long enough for you to see—

Nothing.

No reflection. No mask. No shape standing where it had been before.

But the night is no longer still. And beyond anything else, you know for certain that you are no longer alone in the darkness.

There’s something else now, shifting in the brush, the dry snap of twigs underfoot. Not the wind or an animal. The sound is deliberate, heavy in a way that makes your skin crawl. You push yourself back into the tree, feeling the rough bark dig in, grounding yourself in pain, in something real. Your eyes dart, straining past the reach of the weak light, desperate to find what you know is there.

You hear him before you see him.

"Hey, kiddo."

Something presses against your face before you can scream. Cloth, warm from body heat. Your hands shoot up too late, fingers grasping uselessly at a grip too strong. The scent floods in fast, thick and sickly sweet, curling through your lungs as you gasp.

The match drops from your fingers, the light immediately snuffing out as it hits the dirt. Your limbs go weak, your thoughts stutter, tilt, and a numbness spreads through you like ink in water.

And then, like the night around you, your vision goes black.

You’re not entirely sure if you’re in the same place or not.

The last thing you remember is the scrape of his voice in your ear, low and thick as the cloth smothering your mouth. The sickly-sweet scent still clings to the back of your throat, coating your nostrils like tar. Your throat burns for water as your stomach churns, but the instinct to stay still, to stay quiet, keeps you from gagging.

Rough bark digs into your skin, so you make up your mind that you must still be up against a tree. The rope pulling your arms behind the trunk is tight, thick and coarse around your wrists. It bites into the skin like it was tied with purpose, meant to hold. You tug once—useless. The knots don’t budge.

You try to move your feet, to stand, to kick free, but it's no use. They’re like dead weight, sore and leaden from your exhaustive hike through the unknown. The dirt is dry beneath your bare legs, your denim shorts beginning to ride up your thighs as you squirm around. 

You haven’t opened your eyes yet. You don’t want to.

You force your breath to steady despite the cotton mouth dryness behind your lips. Inhale. Exhale. You tell yourself you’ll open them on the next count of three. Or the next.

You’re busy willing yourself not to cry when you hear the heaving footsteps around you, no other sound joining them. No crackling fire, no sound of any nocturnal creatures. You wonder just how far from any nearby camp you are anymore. 

You open your eyes the first time to the sound of a match being struck. The bright orange light flickers against the back of your eyelids before they flash open, the sight of the gas mask is so close now that you flinch as it crowds your vision. If it wasn’t for the flame flickering against the glass, you might be able to see the eyes behind it. The lenses are fogged up, catching the firelight in warped, fractured shapes. The filter hisses slightly as he breathes in slow, deep inhales.

Thick, calloused fingertips press against your jaw. You flinch, trying to pull away, but his grip is firm, pressing your head back against the rough bark behind you. The flame flickers between you, throwing long, shifting shadows.

The match burns out, the darkness swallowing you again.

Only two left now.

You can still hear him, like without your vision your other senses suddenly come alive. The dull, mechanical sound of air pushing through the filter. The rise and fall of his chest. The warmth of his body so close that the space between you feels like it’s shrinking.

“Hello, darlin’,” he whispers, all southern warmth stretched over something sharp, like velvet hiding a blade. His finger swipes against your bottom lip, and you realize it’s cold and wet with water. Your mouth opens without meaning to, your body responding before your mind can catch up. The moment the moisture touches your skin, something inside you claws forward, desperate.

Before you even realize it, your tongue dips out to taste it.

His low laughter makes you feel filthy.

His fingers leave your mouth, tracing along the lines of your face instead. The way he holds you is rough and unyielding.

"You know," he says, his voice curling low, slow like molasses, "I didn’t mean for it to be like this."

Your body goes rigid.

"I’m sure they were real nice folks."

The memories you’ve kept locked away, stuffed deep in the pit of your mind, tear their way to the surface. Images, voices, flashes of what you lost to the masked man with a crowbar.

“But you…” he continues despite how hard you squirm in his hold, “I just couldn't resist.”

His left hand presses against your bare calf, and slides upwards- until his fingertips graze the hem of your shorts. Goosebumps rise under his wide palm, you try to ignore the heat that's beginning to pool between your thighs– there’s a part of you that realizes that you shouldn't be enjoying this, but your body is already starting to want it.

His thumb moves in slow, deliberate circles over your thigh. Sightless in the dark, every other sense sharpens. His skin on yours, the heat of it, the grit of his callouses, like you can feel him more clearly than you’ve ever seen him.

And his scent. He smells like sweat, leather, something burnt. It clings to the air between you.

His hand rests wide and heavy against your leg, fingers splayed like he owns the ground you’re sitting on. 

And he’s humming under his breath.

It’s soft at first, barely audible over the rush of blood in your ears. But after a moment, it clicks. He’s matching the rhythm of your heartbeat. The steady, frantic pulse trapped in your throat, the way your chest rises and falls unevenly, he’s humming along to it like a song only he can hear.

Then, his hand lifts from your face, and absence of touch should be a relief. It’s not.

The sharp crack of a match striking fills your ears. Another flare of light floods your vision, pupils shrinking fast as they try to adjust. 

Your eyes squint against the burst of light. It sears into your vision, blinding for a moment before adjusting, and in those few seconds, you see him clearly. The flickering glow dances across the fogged-up glass of his mask, catches on the curve of the lenses, and for the first time, you see his eyes behind them.

Brows furrowed over hazel irises, pupils blown wide. That wicked glint has nothing to do with the matchlight. He’s looking at you with an intensity, like a predator watches something cornered.

He’s taking you in.

“What a pretty little thing. My girl.”

Ah.

The words land like a brand, something final and irreversible. Your breath snags, your body going stiff, muscles locking against the weight of ownership in his voice.

"C’mon now," his voice is soft again, deceptively gentle. The matchlight flickers between you, glowing bright as his hand moves from your leg to press into your jaw again, holding you steady, keeping your lips just slightly parted. His eyes track from your mouth back to your own wide stare, pupils swallowing whatever color was left.

"You were doing so well a moment ago."

He lets his hand fall back to your knee, nails scraping light, teasing lines up the inside of your thigh. Your breath stutters, body trembling against your will, and when his fingers dig in just slightly, a soft gasp slips past your lips.

“Oh, there we go,” he says quietly.

The match goes out.

Only one left.

You expect him to strike it immediately, but he doesn’t. The air feels thicker now, the kind of silence that’s only there when someone wants you to feel it. The realization makes your skin crawl—he’s waiting. He knew how many you had left. He’s drawing it out, pulling the tension tight, making sure you feel just how little control you ever had.

The sudden click of his mask clangs in the dark night as the vision of him burned into your retinas starts to fade. You hear the thud of it on the forest floor, and suddenly his breathing is quieter, though closer.

Your ears strain, waiting for the next move.

And then you realize just how close he is when something wet and muscled presses against the underside of your top lip. 

A sharp, obscene sound leaves his throat at the first taste of you. His tongue drags along the inseam of your lip, slow and savoring, his free hand tightening back around your jaw, keeping you still. You should turn away. You should pull back. But the sudden flush of heat rolling through your body keeps you rooted in place, keeps you from moving at all.

His lips press against yours—not applying pressure, just there, ghosting over your mouth, the barest contact. He breathes into you, slow and controlled, and when you exhale, he inhales sharply—like he’s drinking it in. Like he’s stealing the very breath from you.

It’s too intimate. It makes your stomach twist, makes your skin prickle with something ugly and deep and wanting.

His tongue swipes over your lower lip, and the moan that escapes you is involuntary, slipping free before you can stop it. His mouth curls into a smile against yours, slow and knowing, before he presses deeper, taking. Your tongue meets his, a slick, tentative slide, and the moment you respond, his fingers push further up your thigh. The movement makes your hips shift forward slightly, an instinct you don’t want to acknowledge.

You’re almost ashamed of how much your body responds to him.

He pulls back, just enough to catch your lower lip between his teeth, teasing, testing. His hand on your thigh moves, fingers trailing higher, just below the thin barrier of your shorts, pressing against the soft fabric stretched over your core.

“I knew you’d want this,” he murmurs, voice rasping against your skin as his lips trace up your jawline. His middle finger slides beneath the hem of your shorts, pressing into the damp heat of you, and your body jerks hard in response.

A breathless moan pushes out of your throat. You can’t stop it.

“That’s what made you so different from them, sweetheart.”

His words coil through your spine, wrapping tight and unrelenting. Your hips stutter, rocking forward into his palm before you even realize you’re doing it. His breathless laugh is pure satisfaction, curling against your throat as he pushes his middle finger under your panties and against you, teasing, taunting.

He groans quietly at the feeling of your pooling slick, his finger rubbing slow, lazy circles over your clit, coaxing another trembling sound from your lips before he presses into your clenched entrance. Another finger joins the first, stretching you open, and the sensation forces a choked cry out of you as your body arches against the restraints.

“Oh, you love this, don’t you, sweetheart?” he says, voice dripping with certainty, "Just like I knew you would."

You do. And you hate him for it.

His fingers move inside you, curling just right, pressing into the spot that has your stomach tensing, your thighs trembling. You can feel the slick heat between your legs, against your own skin of your thighs, the way your body responds faster than your mind can catch up.

His other hand lifts from your face. The snap of a match striking cuts through the dark.

The firelight licks across his bare face, and he’s devastatingly handsome in a way that makes your stomach drop, that makes you forget to be afraid of him. Gleaming eyes catch the flame, and his beard, salt-and-pepper and close-cut, frames full lips slick with your spit.

“That’s right, darlin’,” he murmurs. His fingers don’t stop moving. “Been watchin’ you for a long time. Even before I killed your little gang back there.”

But before you can react, his mouth is crashing against yours, tongue and teeth and heat, swallowing the choked noise you make as his fingers push deeper, thrusting slow and controlled, forcing you higher, closer. The pressure coils in the pit of your stomach, tightening, unbearable, the tension building so fast it almost hurts.

His voice is still against your mouth, words pressing into your lips like a brand.

"You know my name," he says. His thumb circles just right, pressing against your clit with devastating precision. His fingers curl inside of you, and your entire body locks up, legs trembling, muscles pulling tight.

"I wanna hear it when you come around my fingers." he growls, “Say it.”

Your body breaks open around him, a sharp gasp ripped from your throat. A sound between a prayer and a plea.

"Joel."

The match burns out.

And the night swallows you whole.

[pedge-page]

Dream a Little Dream of Me…Getting Absolutely Railed by My Giant Stuffed Teddy Bear.

Plushies!Joel x F!Reader

Idk if anybody remembers but I had written a blurb about Plushies!Joel dreaming about Giant Teddy coming to life and fucking reader. The post got flagged so I don’t remember exactly what was on it, however I decided to re-write something based on it again. 

Warnings: Freaky Shit. Giant Studded Teddy bear comes to life and fucks you. heavy breeding kink. Cuck!Joel. Masturbation. Pregnant sex, riding, doggy and missionary style besties we do it all. sex dream. dub to non con if you count sleeping Joel fucking awake reader.

18+ ONLY

- - - -

“You ever tried taking melatonin?”

Joel rolled his eyes. Jesus, all he wanted to do was rant to his brother about his sleep problems, not be prescribed some drug—

“—they sell it in gummy form. Aint a drug.”

—Alright fine, some mythical gummy bear, that will help him sleep.

“S’fine.”

“They’re pretty good. Got different flavors—“

“It ain’t the gummy bit I care about. I’m a grown man. Can swallow a regular pill.”

“Then try it.”

So that’s how Joel found himself shrugging down two fairly large sized pills, gulping it down with a glass of water.

You had just finished your shower, your skin glowing with a sheen of moisture. “You ready for bed? I brought kitty back!” You wave the infamous squishmellow out in front of you temptingly, hoping to entice your very grumpy, back-aching boyfriend into a soothing slumber. 

Joel snatches Kitty. “I’ll use her again, but I expect that ass up front.” He’d spent the last 10 minutes neatly removing most of your bed plushies and organizing them along the bench, their beady little eyes staring back at him.

With a kiss to his scruffy cheek, you drag him into the now available bed. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

So there he is, with a plush shoved under his back, your body curled against his front, facing him. 

He breathes heavily, slowly, inhaling your fresh shampoo and body wash. You smelled of vanilla and mint, and it instantly soothed the rough edges of his brain. He didn’t expect the pills to do much, still a little worried that tonight would be yet another restless night. 

He’s about to just close his eyes, lie there and will himself to sleep, until he feels your fingertips lightly tracing the outline of his face.

His eyelids flutter open. “Whatchu doin’?”

“Just relax.” You press your soft lips to his nose. 

Joel grumbles but closes his eyes again, taking a deep breath. 

Your gentle touch strokes along his hair, around his ear, down his jaw, and drawn across his chin before circling round again. It did feel kinda nice. Tickled, but in a soothing way. He cleared his throat, shifting a tad bit.

“Stop squirming and just relax.”

“I am,” he grumbles back, his eyes fluttering open. he’s greeted by your sweet grin coaxing him under your charm. 

He loves lookin’ at you. 

Quite frankly, he loves living with you. There was something domestic about it he hadn’t experienced in a long time, since he was just a kid. Home. That was where you are. Despite his current sleep troubles, albeit a life of a poor and inconsistent sleep routine now catching up to him in such a newly domesticated, routinely life with you, he loves being able to say 'I’m going home to my girl.' 

…And his 200 stuffed animal roommates. But he had already become so intimately familiar with them, they didn’t bother him in the slightest.

Joel can still see Big Brother Teddy slumped in the corner of the room behind you. He chuckles, shaking his head. “Been a minute.” He nods towards the abandoned giant bear.

Your thumb glides over his cheekbone. “Yeah. But I got the next best thing right in front of me.” He smiles with you, pulling you in for an honest kiss.

“I love you,” he whispers, his breath so warm and familiar against your face.

“I love you too,” you whisper back. “Now close your eyes damnit or I’ll blindfold you next.”

He tuts but obeys. Whatever makes you happy. Who knows, maybe this little face tickling thing will help you fall asleep, and that’s all that truly matters to him—

- - - -

He’s snoring loudly like a grumbling bear, drool trickling out of his mouth and on to his pillow. Nothing is able to stir him awake, not even your little pokes to his puffy cheeks.

Stirring his loins awake, however…

He doesn’t know he’s dreaming, although the site to behold in front of him should be a clear indicator.

Joel stands at the corner of the room, like he always does when he watches you, his little porn star, perform depraved acts on your innocent little plushes. This time was no different.

Except Big Teddy wasn’t under you. He was on top of you. 

And he was fucking.

The bear gripped your sides with his rounded arms, his hips pumping wildly between your legs. You were sprawled out, gorgeous, moaning and tossing your head in ecstasy as the bear absolutely railed you with his—his—

His giant teddy bear cock.

It was massive, filled to the brim with what he can only hope is copious amounts of cotton, and yet the fur on it matched that of the rest of him. Curly and short and fluffy, drenched in your fluids as he plunged back inside your sopping cunt.

“J-J-Jooeeellll,” you whine hoarsely.

Joel opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He has no words. Teddy’s beady eyes turn towards him. It would be creepy were it not for the way he starts fucking you harder, pounding that pussy like his teddy life depended on it.

“oH-OH fuck me Teddy that’s it..right there—yeah-yeah—uughhh fuck me Teddyyyyyyy,” you whimpered, grinning up at the bear. You cradled your arms around his thick, stuffed neck, and he embraced you. You body wrapped around him like a mating press, heels thrusting in the air, Teddy working his massive bear cock in and out of you. He can hear the squelching, like you were dripping and his member was soaking it all up.

It was the most confusing boner Joel had ever had in his life.

He was transfixed by the press of his cotton belly rubbing along your stomach, beefy arms engaging you. You looked so helpless under your big and full-of-life Teddy, yet you clung to him like someone safe and comfortable, much like how you hold on to Joel in that very same position. 

Joel could even tell when you came: your body seizing up, lips agape as your orgasm tore through you. Teddy slowed his pace, rutting into you deep and pausing there so he could feel that pussy spasm around his dick. You finally let out raspy moans, groaning with a smile, pulling Teddy’s big round ears down. And you kissed him. Tongue and open mouthed on his sewn shut string curved into a simple smile, all while your eyes looking hungrily towards Joel. Slitted and aroused in the same way you always look at him when you’ve just squired on any of your other stuffies that Joel talked you through.

And suddenly, words fall from his mouth like natural. “You ain’t done givin’ it to Teddy, yet, are ya baby?” Joel asks rhetorically. “Show Teddy what you can do.”

“I wanna ride it, Teddy,” you rasp at Joel. 

You flip the two of you over, with you now straddling his massive soft tummy. Joel finds himself seated, his cock out and painfully hard in his fist. Teddy lies back, enjoying the view of your sexy body poised above him. 

It was so oddly familiar. Joel had definitely been in that position before.

Teddy had also been in this position many times too. He could practically feel the way you ran your palm flat against his fuzzy chest, fingers sifting through the tufts of hair. Teddy rubbed his—and I cannot stress it enough myself—fingerless paws(?) across the expanse of your thighs before trailing up your waist and onto your tits.

You placed your hands over top his, letting him grope your breasts. “Teddy Bear.” You let out little pants and coos, giggling as you began rocking your hips, working him back inside you.

“Yeah, yeah that’s it babygirl. Show Teddy what that pussy can do.” Joel keeps his eyes poised ahead while he started stroking his member. “How does Teddy feel? Tell him. Tell him what you want.”

You let out a hoarse cry, riding the giant stuffed and lively animal faster. “Fuck Teddy, FUck me right there! I wanna show Teddy a good time, show Teddy what a —ugh—a good fuck I am. Mmmm It feels sooooo good inside. He’s so fucking big. I want Teddy to touch me here—“ You squeeze his paws firmly again over your breasts—“right on my tits while I ride you. I feel so safe with you, Teddy. I want you to put a baby right here—“ 

Teddy’s palm drifts lower until it’s positioned over your belly, and Joel lets out an audible groan.

“Right here Teddy, Wanna be bred with your cubs. Want your cotton filling me up till I’m bursting with your babies—fuck—fuck please—please breed me Teddy!”

Joel pumps his cock faster in the same rhythm that you’re bouncing on top of Teddy. Your thighs strain, tits jumping with each rise and fall of your sweaty body. Eventually you place both arms on Teddy’s chest, trying your best but failing to stay upright as you grind your mound on his fuzzy belly, working yourself tirelessly to release. The fur was sticky and damp with your fluids. Teddy gripped you harder, urging you back and forth, using him to get yourself off. 

“Fuckfuckfuck,” Joel groans under his breath. The schlick sounds of his fist over his dick can be heard across the room. “Fuck Teddy, FUck your Teddy bear like Daddy fucks you—make him breed you, get ya all round with his cubs—fuck baby you’d look so fucking hot pregnant with Teddy cubs…”

He feels he’s ready to burst any second now. He closes his eyes, leaning back, ready to cum, but when he reopens them, the scene has changed:

It’s like a new day, but Teddy’s fucking you from behind. Your cheeks is pressed into the duvet, ass in the air with Teddy’s paws slapping you, a satisfying smack echoes in time with the way it jiggles. You look a bit—thicker around the hips too. It’s the first thing he noticed, right before you get up on your arms slowly and reveal the very prominent second thing—

Your rounded, pregnant belly settling low. You stare at Joel’s dumbfounded expression, biting your lips with a smirk. “Do you like it, Daddy?”

Teddy wraps a possessive paw around your middle, showcasing your beautiful swollen belly. Your hand reaches behind you to sift through his fuzzy head, his button nose nuzzling your ear as he slowly grinds your ass into him.

“I—I—“ Joel’s panting really hard. He hasn’t blinked in what feels like forever. He may have thought about what you would look pregnant, but he’d never actually been able to put an image to it until he dreamed about Teddy getting you there.

Your tits swayed with each pound too, the weight of your new body forcing each pounce to have a slow reaction. 

You looked fucking amazing.

“Teddy filled ya with his cotton, did he?” Joel got up from his chair, his hand never leaving his aching member. “He get ya filled with those cubs?” 

You nod with a giggle. “Feel it, baby.” dragging his hand to your belly, Joel instinctually splays his wide palm and fingers over the heft.

“Fuck me,” he hums, amazed. He was expecting a squishy feel to it, genuinely thinking Teddy had just filled you with cotton, but instead it was hard and heavy.

“How many cubs do ya think you got in there?”

You bring your hand down to Joel’s cock, replacing his to start jerking him softly. He lets out an audible whimper. 

“I don’t know. Teddy stuffed me so full.” 

The Bear continues to pound your ass, but your attention was entirely on Joel Miller’s blazing erection.

“Say it again,” he growls, thrusting into your hands.

“Teddy bred me, Daddy.”

“Again.”

“Filled me with his cotton, knocked me up with his baby cubs—“

“Again!”

“I’m so fucking full of babies, Joel, feels like I’m gonna burst any minute—Teddy filled me with his love, I love Teddy so much daddy fuck—!”

Joel grips the back of your head and pulls you, smashing his lips onto you. He shutters all over before releasing his load, hot, sticky and blindingly good all over your swollen belly and tits. You keep stroking him, forcing him to give it all, making a white ropey mess over your beautiful body. “Fuck-fuck baby you’re so fucking hot, getting bred by Daddy’s Teddy—Daddy gave him to ya, didn’t I? Yeah—fuck babygirl fuck, knew you’d be perfect like this—!“

“JOEL MILLER!!!!”

He lets out a sudden snort, eyes fluttering open. He feels his senses come back to him: your body pressed snugly against his chest, his cock nudged between your thighs, ass hugging his balls. He has his arms wrapped around your front, caging you against him. You’re both sweating, hot and wet especially under the covers. The outline of your shoulder comes into focus, and there’s Teddy sitting lifeless in the corner still.

“W-what…?” He blinks a few times, his hold on you not letting up. He can still feel the aftermath of that glowing orgasm, his dick pulsing against your sopping pussy.

You let out a sigh. So he definitely was sleeping through it all: the humping against your ass, mumbling words and moans, then grasping your body right against him in a frenzied fuck fest. You’d thought he was gonna squeeze the air out of you. No matter what you tried, he wouldn’t get out of this trance, and started sliding his leaking cock between your legs. You were too confused and even more so aroused to be able to really put up a fight. Pumping in and out of your wet folds with desperation. It wasn’t until he was splashing his cum on your thighs, and you falling prey to your own orgasm that you heard him distinctly murmur something about your ‘pregnant Teddy cub belly’ that you had finally given up all decency and screamed, forcing him to wake.

“What…the fuck…were you dreaming about???”

- - - -

Ok found Original content i wrote!:

Based on @survivingandenduring 's wonderful find:

-----

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @fluffygoffpanda @picketniffler @bbyanarchist @94namkooksworld @romanarose

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Not me admitting I go back and reread my own stuff. <- lol most of us writers do this, in case you didn't know.

ANYWAYS, I reread this early this morning because I am VERY in my feels about this man and season 2 tomorrow. Can we all just pretend this is Joel's future? Anybody else? Y'all should self rec you're nothing bad ever happens to Joel Miller fics plz.

Harvest Moon

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader Word Count: 3,100 Summary: It's Joel's birthday and you're going to make sure he has a good one. Warnings: smut, fluff, dancing in the kitchen to neil young, unprotected p in v, public-ish sex (but under a blanket), talking to neighbors while sitting on joel miller's cock, apocalypse birth control (pulling out), fingering, riding, joel has a filthy mouth, no use of y/n, not beta read.

A/N: I spent most of tonight adding 2,500 words to this barely written piece. Now it's two hours past my bedtime, but HAPPY BIRTHDAY JOEL MILLER!!! This can absolutely be read as a standalone, but, this is yet another singular smut entry for my Elks babies. This was originally going to be posted as a birthday celebration chapter for that, but I really wanted to give Joel his gift on his actual birthday. Happy birthday you gorgeous old man, you. Hope you like the porn I wrote about you. ❤️🥴

Masterlist

🌕🌕🌕🌕

You’ve been looking for the CD since you learned of Joel’s love of the song. Tommy did it, he actually did it. Somehow by some miracle he found the CD. 

“Not a problem,” he gives you that same shy Miller lopsided grin. “Milt had it. Told me to tell you it’s yours to keep… said he owes you since you were his daughter’s favorite teacher ‘n all.”

“Thanks Tommy,” you say, barely being able to contain your excitement, “this is going to be amazing.”

“Of course. Should be thanking you really,” he shrugs. “It’s about time he had a good birthday.”

—

Joel said he’d be helping fix one of the greenhouses today, but you’re still scared to ruin the surprise as you unlock his door. 

“Joel?” you yell out into the quiet, seemingly empty house. 

No answer. Perfect.

Quick steps lead you to his CD player, the same one he first showed you how much he cared for you with. Now, it’s your turn to show him just how much he means to you. The disc tray opens and you place the CD into the system, you can’t wait to surprise him. 

—

“More coffee?” you ask, holding up the percolator.

He nods and smiles, happily sitting at the table full from the steak, potatoes, and cornbread you made him. He had insisted on sharing the meat, but you refused, happy to let him enjoy the first taste of steak in over twenty years.

Your friend Helen got her boyfriend Greg to cut a small filet of steak from the newly butchered cow. She handed it to you with a knowing smile. It’s nice to see everyone accept yours and Joel’s relationship. 

You lean over his lap, and top his coffee cup off. 

“Have I ever told you how much I love seeing you in a dress? Can’t believe you got yourself all dolled up for me.” He surprises you by pulling you onto his lap. 

“Careful!” you shriek, quickly placing the carafe on the table. “Yes, you have… many times. That's why I wore it.”

“Hmph,” he hums happily, burying his face into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping securely around you. “Thank you for dinner–and everything sweetheart.” He presses a soft kiss to your skin. 

“That’s not all,” you giggle as he nips at a sensitive spot under your chin. 

He chuckles, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re so good to me.” 

You clutch his chin tilting his head up to meet your eyes. “You deserve a happy birthday.” His big brown eyes search yours, like he’s forcing himself to believe it. “Joel, you do.” 

He rests his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he sighs warmly.

“I love you too. Now, I have something else for you,” you slip off his lap and head towards your backpack. “It’s something small, I promise.”

You return with a bundle of fabric held behind your back. 

“Remember when you tore your favorite flannel and you tossed it in the rag bag?”

You place the flannel in his hands.

“Well, a certain girl named Ellie grabbed it for me. I mended it, reinforced the buttons, and sewed up a couple holes. It’s not perfect, but it’s fixed.”

He holds the flannel up and inspects it. “This is–wow–this–I can’t believe it.” He looks up at you, his eyes wide with adoration. “I was wearing this that first day I saw you, y’know? This is so sweet sweetheart, thank you.” 

He likes it, you thank your lucky stars. Your handsome Joel, here with you on his birthday, allowing himself to be taken care of. 

You know the story of his birthday, you’ve retold the tale to yourself every night as you anticipated this day. Afraid to upset him, afraid to cross a line, but all you’ve wanted to do is give him the world he so deserves. 

It wasn’t just you who thought of him today. It’s Tommy finding the CD. It’s Helen getting you the steak. It’s Ellie grabbing the flannel from the rag bag. He deserves all of it. 

“You’re welcome,” you say with a kiss to his forehead. “Now, put it on. I have one more surprise.”

He slips the flannel on as you head to the living room. The CD waits in the stereo. You turn it on.

The soft guitar and brushes of a drum fills the air as you turn the volume up.  

Joel’s huge smile greets you when you walk back into the kitchen.

“You– how?” he asks, unbelieving. 

“Asked Tommy and he found it for me. Milt had his greatest hits. Now,” you reach your hand out to him, “may I have this dance birthday boy?”

He chuckles and takes your hand, pulling you into him. The two of you sway along to the music, his strong arms enveloping you as your cheek rests against his warm chest. You can hear the steady thump of his heart beneath your ear. Your hands slip around his broad back, one of them trailing up to play with the soft curls at the nape of his neck. He sighs deeply before placing a tender kiss against the top of your head. 

“This is my favorite song,” he murmurs.

The sun has long since set, the singular lamp above the sink casts a warm dark amber glow across the kitchen Your shadows dance across the walls as you sway. He smells of coffee and sweet corn bread, like home and comfort. 

He starts to hum then softly sing along. His deep voice reverberates through your ear, pressed against his heart. 

“Because I’m still in love with you,  I wanna see you dance again,  Because I’m still in love with you,  On this harvest moon”

You can hear the contentment in his voice as he holds you closer. Moving in synchronicity with each other, gently stepping across the small kitchen as the harmonica solo plays. If you could stay in this moment forever you would.

You tilt your head up, and his eyes meet yours. The smile he gives lights his face. Lines crinkling at the corner of his eyes, dimple sitting deep on his cheek, mustache curving with his plush upturned lips. He serenades you with the same lyrics as before, looking deep in your eyes. 

“Because I’m still in love with you,  I wanna see you dance again,  Because I’m still in love with you,  On this harvest moon”  

His lips meet yours, thanking you with a gentle kiss. The man you love and adore, feels good on his birthday all because of you. 

The song plays on repeat, the two of you dance together, Joel gently hums and sings along as the harvest moon rises above the mountains. 

You gently pull away, unclasping his arms from around you.

“Come on birthday boy,” you say with a playful smile, “let’s go watch the stars.” 

—

You and Joel sit beneath a large plaid comforter on his porch. The early fall breeze that rolls down the mountainside leaves a chill in the air. The night sky is lit bright with the orange full moon. Most of Jackson is at the Harvest Moon Festival tonight, you can just make out the distant sounds of laughter and music flowing through the air from the main street on his porch. Ellie was especially thrilled about the teen sleepover happening at the Bison tonight, giving you both this rare moment of solitude in his backyard. She told Joel she knew he was in good hands with you for his birthday. 

And he is–or at least you’re in his good hands. 

“Oh, god,” you softly whisper into the night, you’re so tense from keeping yourself quiet. The stars are a little harder to see tonight thanks to the ambient glow of the bright moon, and yet you see stars whenever you squeeze your eyes shut while fighting the urge to moan. Joel’s deft, large thumb rubs circles against your clit while you ride two of his thick fingers. 

He’s driving you crazy like this. His large body and the blanket wrapped around you, overheating all of your senses in this chilly night. You’re completely covered, nobody would know that your legs are spread wide, one draped over his thick thigh while his hand is stuffed up your dress making you quake as he finger fucks you.

“Easy now, easy now,” he says nuzzling against your neck, his large nose charting a course across the sensitive skin. “Gotta remember where we are. You're the sweet, innocent teacher 'n librarian here. Lotta people look up to you, can’t have them knowin’ what my girl really likes when she’s with me.” Your hips slow their movement, he makes up for it by pumping you harder. “See, I can help, just gotta let me know you want it baby.” 

“Want to take–neyugh–care of you,” struggles out of your mouth. 

“You’re taking care of me right now, sweetheart, touching you is my favorite thing to do.” 

“Want to go inside… w-want to–want–to, want to feel you in my mouth,” you grip the straining bulge underneath the fly of his jeans. 

“Not yet,” he sighs deeply when you squeeze harder. “Like seeing your skin glow in the moonlight. What you’re doin’ now is enough, want to enjoy my night with you.”

Your hold tightens around his cock as you fight harder to suppress the urge to scream into the night. His fingers angle up hitting your most sensitive spot and you feel like you could explode. You’ll be the fireworks to celebrate Joel’s birthday. A whimper is fought by biting your lip, it’s so hard to not scream. His brown eyes look almost black in the low light as he watches you struggle and blink rapidly. 

“Shh baby, you’re doing so good, bein’ so quiet, don’t ruin it now. If anybody was out right now they could walk right on by and they’d have no idea what I’m doing to you under here.”

You’ve never done anything like this, so out in the open. Jackson is a peaceful town full of law abiding citizens, and right now you’re sitting on the back of the porch of Joel’s house getting felt up by him. 

“Joel… I–I’m gonna—”

“Cum for me baby.” His hot breath hits your lips before sealing his mouth against yours. Your cunt spasms against his thick fingers, you feel set alight by your orgasm, overheated and burning. Maybe you’re glowing just as bright as the moon. His tongue dances with yours, swallowing all of your gasps and cries. You’re sure at this point, anybody that walked by would know exactly what was happening between the two of you. You don’t care, all you want is to feel Joel’s cock inside you.

“Want you, Joel, want you so bad,” you mew as his fingers rub against your sensitive folds. 

“Okay baby, okay.” His fingers slip from your warmth before he brings his soaked digits to his lips. His eyes flutter shut when he tastes you. 

“Sweeter than birthday cake,” he declares before raising his hips and pulling his jeans down with a grunt. “Come here. Come sit on me.”

Your legs spread wide as you straddle his large lap with your back pressed against the warmth of his chest. He grips himself and moves the half hard heft of his cock against your soaked core, swirling his tip back and forth across your clit. 

“Tell me you want my cock,” he whispers against your neck, licking a line up to your ear. “Tell me baby.”

“I-I want your cock–I need your cock Joel,” you beg. 

“I know you do darling,” he chuckles deeply, lining himself up to your entrance.

The sounds of the festival go silent and the bright orange moon fades as you slowly sink down on his cock. Taking all of him, thick and throbbing into your tight cunt. 

“That’s my good girl,” he grits. “Your sweet pussy is taking me so well, isn’t she?”

Clutching your bottom lip tightly between your teeth, you try to fight the moan his words bring up.

“Oh, you must like that. You’re squeezin’ me so hard sweetheart.” 

You set a pace, riding him gently under the moonlight, his fingers gripping your hips tight. 

His hot breaths hit the back of your neck as your back molds even tighter to his front. His hand snakes down to rub your clit, small circles making your body meld even more against him.. The rhythm of his fingers and cock spearing you pulls another orgasm down from the ethers of space. Shivering, sweating, and stuttering Joel’s name, you’re trying to be good for him, trying to not scream into the night. 

“That’s my girl, grippin’ my cock so good, cummin’ all over me. Getting yourself nice and slippery so I can fuck you real good, huh?” 

“Mmf,” is the only response you can muster. Your cunt flutters around him, and he doesn’t relent, slowly fucking into you while his finger pulses against your clit. 

The sound of two people conversing approaches. Your movements come to a halt, Joel stays still, his finger still resting against your sensitive bundle of nerves and his cock sitting deep inside you. Hank and Billie, the nice couple that lives three houses down from Joel, walk past the porch. Both look over and wave a greeting. Fuck.

“Beautiful moon, isn’t it?” Hank says with a smile. 

“Quite.” Joel responds. The rumble of his loud voice radiates through you.  

“You guys get any barbecue tonight?” Hank asks. “It was really go–”

“We stayed in,” Joel gruffly responds. He subtly knocks his hips into you causing a wave of sensation to hit against your already cock-drunk pussy.

Your nostrils flare with a deep exhale.  

“Oh, well, there will probably be leftovers tomorrow,” Billie offers. “Tell them I sent you and they’ll give you the good stuff.”

“Thanks Billie,” you breathlessly reply, wishing on every star you’ve seen behind your eyelids, they’ll leave. “We appreciate it.”

“Best be getting home,” Hank says, grabbing Billie’s hand. “We both had a bit too much to drink!” 

Oh thank god.

“Enjoy your night,” Joel says plainly as he starts to slowly rock into you once they turn away. 

To the eyes of your neighbors, you and Joel just look like a normal couple enjoying the night sky cuddled together under a blanket… little do they know he’s filling you with his thick cock under the shield. 

“That was close,” he whispers against your ear before nipping it. 

Your giggle is cut off by a moan when he fucks into you harder. 

“Guess we shouldn’t take our time, don’t want to get caught, now do we?” he asks. 

“We can just–nyuh–go inside,” you plead, wanting to be able to moan and scream Joel’s name in the comfort of his home. 

“Gimme one more baby, gimme one more,” he grunts against your neck. “And then I’ll take you into my home and fuck you.”

His hips pound against your body, his thrusts bucking into your core harder. “That’s it baby, you really want me to take you in and lay you down ‘n fuck you, don’t you?” 

“Mmhmm,” you moan, your stomach tightening and thighs trembling as the universe splinters around you. Your orgasm rockets through your body. Color turns to black and white, noise falls silent. All that exists is Joel Miller and his big cock shattering you into a million pieces like your own personal big bang on the back of his porch. 

“Good girl,” he groans, “let’s take this party inside.”

—

The plaid comforter is laid out on the kitchen floor. Your wobbly legs move your still blissed-out body to Joel’s stereo, starting “Harvest Moon” on repeat all over again. 

You lean against the kitchen entrance, admiring Joel as he rests atop the blanket, naked and supporting himself on his elbows. No man over fifty should ever look as good as him. Broad shoulders frame his strong arms, his chest has a smattering of dark hair that trails down to the slight bulge of his stomach. His cock rests in between his legs, still hard and shining with your slick. He’s so gorgeous, and he’s all yours. 

“Come here sweetheart,” his voice is gruffer. “Lay down next to me.”

His dick twitches as you walk to the blanket and settle beside him. 

He moves over you, covering you with his warmth as he engulfs himself in your slick heat. Your legs instinctually wrap around his waist allowing him to take more. 

“Joel,” you moan. The angle allows his cock to push farther in and your walls to tighten harder against him. 

“Ooh, you’re so fucking wet, you hear that?” he asks incredulously. The squelch of your pussy soundtracks along to the song quietly playing in the background. “Sounds so fucking good baby.” 

He gasps when buries himself to the hilt, soaking the curly hairs around the base of him with your wet.

Your body trembles as your hips meet his, his cock sliding in and out of your cunt at a brutal pace. 

He takes no time to own you now behind the walls of his home. Your hands clutch at his wide back, sobs and screams of his name echoing out into the air as Neil Young softly sings in the background. 

You’re so full of him. His body surrounding you, his lips against yours, his cock pounding into your accepting cunt, his name chanting out of your mouth. 

“You want it baby?” he growls against your neck, his cock pumping in and out of your hole at a speed no man over fifty should be able to ever reach. “You want my cum?” 

“C-cum Joel,” you cry, tears sprouting from your eyes as your fourth orgasm launches through you. 

He gasps your name, pulling out of your tremorous pussy and shooting thick white ropes of cum across your pussy and stomach. 

His sweat is slick against your overheated body, you’re a mess of sweat, orgasm, and love. 

He kisses you, his tongue licking against yours before he rolls off you. His chest rising and falling as he catches his breath. “Fuck,” he pants, stretching his limbs out. “Gonna feel this tomorrow.” 

“Well, you are another year older, old man,” you tease, curling up next to him. 

“Yeah,” he turns his head to look at you. “I guess I am,” he sighs. “Thank you for–my birthday and–all of this. I can never put into words how much it all means to me.” 

“So I guess you’re still in love with me?” you tease.

“Always. Especially on this harvest moon,” he returns your smile. 

---

Tagging a couple people who had asked about this piece earlier this month: @almostfoxglove, @sawymredfox, @burntheedges, and @littlemisspascal 🩷🌝

[millersdoll]

someone please PLEASE write a fic of where reader interrupts him, sat on his lap and they make out with his freaking glasses on and he pulls away to take it off and continues to make out but then she puts it back on him !!!