#outlaw!joel miller

[baronessvonglitter]

Blue Hour

outlaw!Joel Miller x runaway hitchhiker!f!Reader

Word count: 2.8K

Summary: hitchhiking in the cruel Texas desert, you're picked up by a handsome stranger

WARNINGS: outlaw!Joel (not mentioned exactly what criminal activity he's involved in, but he does bear scars and looks as if he's been in a fight recently), also he's on the run, brief mentions of parental abuse and alcoholism, strangers to lovers, loss of virginity, unprotected p in v sex (birth control is briefly discussed), soft!Joel (he's respectful of boundaries)

Author's Note: I had initially wanted to do a trucker story, but thought that the criminal element fit better here. I would absolutely love to see a trucker!Joel fic if it doesn't already exist. Please do tag me if it does! Also this is lightly edited but the love is there..

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

You're both running from something; that's how you find each other.

On a lonely stretch of highway in West Texas, Joel Miller picks you up on the side of the road, his mindset one of penance. If he does a good thing by saving someone maybe he can save himself. You're just glad to get away, as far away as possible from a mom who drank all the time, berated you, beat you, and was only at her most peaceful when she was passed out cold.

It's a danger in and of itself to get into Joel's truck, and a danger to come into his motel room, but to you, any other place is safer than where you grew up. The little roadside motel is brightly lit, welcoming, the sign neon against the cerulean summer evening sky.

By the fluorescent glow of the cheap TV screen with its staticky channels you exchange your stories. Joel doesn't tell you much apart from the fact that he's headed to New Mexico, and the scar on his nose, the way he's healing from a black eye you surmise is probably from a couple weeks ago. He carries a gun and his wallet is thick with cash. You can tell he's bad news but you don't care. You're just happy to have a roof over your head for the night and a plan of some sort of future taking shape in your mind.

With only one bed he offers to take the floor, but you insist it's fine to share. He's been a gentleman so far, despite the obvious flirtatious vibes you've been giving. It's impossible to keep to yourself as you both settle down to sleep. Your new life started the day you walked away from your home. You're a different person in this bed, laying on a cheap mattress with a handsome stranger. And, though you've never gone much farther than kissing, the newness of desire tugs at you from deep within.

"Joel.." his back is turned to you and he barely catches you calling for him. You press your hands to his back, which immediately gets his attention. He looks at you with slight confusion, as if he'd forgotten you were there, and when he sees the meaningful look in your eyes he knows what it is you want, and you don't stop him when he pulls you close.

Joel's fingers tangle in your hair, his other hand roaming over your waist and hip, caressing and claiming you with a hungry and desperate fervor. You moan softly, your tongues dancing against each other, and you melt under the sweet shared pleasure. Your fingers slip beneath his shirt, feeling the broad smooth expanse of his back.

His senses are afire as your fingers trace along his bare skin, and his own hands continue to wander, skimming along your sides, gently caressing the curve of your hip. He pulls back just enough to take a breath, his forehead coming to rest against yours, breathing in short, shallow gasps.

"I like the way you taste," you tell him, your confession soft and simple in the twilight glow of the room, your words caressing his lips. Joel's eyes darken with desire as he gazes at you in the semi-darkness.

"Yeah? And how do I taste, darlin'?" There's an edge of a growl to his words, his fingers stroking softly along your cheek, a fusion of longing and restraint etched into his expression.

"Like cinnamon, and whiskey," you whisper. "You taste like pleasure.."

He pulls you closer, nudging his nose against yours as a low, possessive growl rumbles in his chest. "You taste like sunshine and sweetness, sugar.." He dips his head back down to capture your lips in another searing kiss, his tongue slipping between your lips, swallowing your moans. Every sound, every gasp you make, fuels the fire burning within him, igniting an intoxicating blend of desire and hunger.

One arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand slides down your back, trailing fire along your skin as he moves lower, gently cupping your ass and pulling you against the heated length of his body. You gasp at the intimate touch. The way he presses you to his hardness awakens and excites something in you. "Joel!" you gasp.

The sound of his name, breathed out so sweetly from your lips, sends a shiver down his spine. "That's it. darlin'.. say my name.."

You whimper at the sweet friction as he continues to deliberately press you to his hardened arousal, kneading your cheeks. "Joel.." you say obediently, whispered in innocent pleasure.

He groans softly. "That's my good girl.." He presses you against him once more, allowing you to feel the full extent of his arousal, the heat and weight of it grinding against your core. Desire floods your veins and you slowly undulate your hips, finding little comfort in merely rubbing against him. "Fuck, you drive me crazy, darlin'," his voice is husky and raw with need.

"I want you.. please don't make me wait.." you tell him.

"Yeah? You want me.. like this? Is this how you want me to fuck you?" Joel's voice drips with primal need as he grinds against you, feeling the heat and wetness, his own arousal painfully hard at this point.

You nod, your breath catching in your throat. "I can't think about anything else right now. Just you.. with me."

"Darlin', I can't hold back anymore.." he warns, but he takes time to ask about birth control, and you assure him you are covered.

You reach up to kiss him, before breaking apart a moment to take off your top and help him remove his own. The feel of his warm flesh against yours is heavenly. He bears scars and old wounds upon his flesh, evidence of a life lived in danger. But right now you only think about how warm he feels, how strong he is. "I just want to feel your skin against mine for a little bit.."

Joel's touch is almost reverent as his large, calloused hands roam your bare skin, learning the contours of your soft supple flesh, cupping each breast. "My sweet girl.." he whispers in awe.

Likewise, you trace every little scar, thinking on how each of those fights, those deadly interactions, brought him one step closer to you. "I need you," he whispers, feeling more alive, brand new under the heat of your palms on his chest. His fingers find the waistband of your panties and his eyes quickly flick to yours, seeking permission. "Is this all right?" You nod eagerly, "Lift up your hips for me," comes his quiet command, and he gently tugs at the elastic, slowly pulling your panties down your thighs. He sees you laid bare before him, your inner thighs moist with desire, the curls on your mound dewy with want. "God damn.. you're so beautiful.. I wanna taste you.." he groans, pressing a heated kiss against the sensitive skin just beneath your hipbone.

You sigh at his kiss, his beard pleasantly scratching your skin. "Yes.. please.."

Joel's tongue flicks out to taste the heated flesh between your thighs, groaning softly at the flavor of you on his tongue before he begins to lick through your slick, puffy folds. He smiles as you gasp, your eyes wide and mouth parted in an O. "Joel!" you moan, panting as his tongue explores you. When he said he wanted to taste you, you assumed he meant more kissing. You hadn't expected this, hadn't known this was possible. Your fingers fist in his hair as he continues. He groans against you, the sound vibrating deliciously against your cunt. "Taste so sweet,.. like heaven.. my sweet girl.." he whispers between long, languid licks, his arms wrapping around your trembling thighs, holding you open for him as he feasts. His tongue flicks and dances over your clit, swirling and teasing, wanting to learn every inch of you, what makes you scream and what makes you whimper, getting drunk on your taste like a thirsty man lost in the desert.

Your hips arch up to meet each lick, each worshiping swipe as his pace becomes more insistent, following the sound of your moans and sighs, feeling the shivering in your body, his tongue flicking and circling in a hungry rhythm, determined to bring you to the brink.

Your thighs start to quake but he expertly keeps them spread open, feasting on you. "God! Joel, I'm coming!" Pleasure uncoils from the very center of you, radiating outward, controlling every other sense and thought. His hands grip your shaking thighs, lapping up all your sweet nectar. "That's it, darlin', let go for me.. I got you.." he whispers. He gently eases you through your orgasm, tongue slowing, savoring every drop he can. "God damn, sweetheart.. you taste so damn good.. you doing okay?"

"Yes," you pant, a light sheen of sweat forming on your skin. "Oh, Joel," you moan, bringing him to you for a kiss and tasting your flavor on his lips and tongue. He rises, crawling up your body until his weight is draped over you, his arms caging you in as you kiss, sharing your taste with you. He gazes down at you, the way you trust him implicitly ignites a mix of feelings: a raging, possessive need, a deep sense of responsibility, and a swelling of unbridled affection and adoration. He lifts a hand to gently caress your cheek, his thumb tracing soft patterns against your skin. You can see his heart and soul bared to you in that simple touch. Your skin is flushed, hair mussed, eyes bright. You've never looked more beautiful.

Joel shifts his weight, pressing closer against you, the pressure of his hard length against your hip undeniable as your eyes meet. You take him gently into your hands, grasping and feeling him. He groans at the softness of your hands wrapping around his arousal, eyes glazing over with pleasure. "God.. I want you.. need to feel you around me, sweetheart.."

You sense now that you have the power. Slowly you run your hands over his rigid cock, swiping your thumb across the tip, wiping away a bead of moisture. "Is it going to fit?" you ask, feeling the heft of it, both length and girth.

A guttural groan rumbles from his chest and his head bows down to bury his face against your neck. "It'll fit, sugar, I promise. Just take your time."

Your heart skips a beat. This is the ultimate thing that can bring you together, and will forever change what you mean to each other. "I'm ready for you.."

Joel's hands gently grip your thighs, guiding you to move and open further as he positions himself between your legs, the head of his cock resting against your entrance. His heart pounds as he looks down at you. "You sure, darlin'? I promise I'll go slow."

"I'm sure. I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

"Okay, just tell me if you need me to stop. I don't wanna hurt you." He presses to you a little more, eager to fill you but waiting on your word.

"Kiss me," you whisper.

He pours all his love and need into the kiss, swallowing your gasp as he presses forward, his thick cockhead just barely breaching you, his groan joining with yours at the feel of your tight heat around him. You break the kiss, resting your hands on his shoulders as he enters you, a little at a time. His fingers dig into your thighs, his expression a cross between pleasure and concern as he pauses, giving you a chance to adjust to him. "How is that, sweetheart? Am I hurtin' you at all?"

"Wait." You press your hands to his chest. "Wait a little bit," you pant, forcing yourself to relax around him in order to accommodate him.

Joel nods. "Take your time, sweetheart. I ain't goin' anywhere." He stills himself, using every inch of willpower in his possession, "Just breathe, darlin', you're doin' so good," he coos. "You feel so damn good... touch yourself, darlin'," he growls.

Your breath falters as you acquiesce, fingers flitting lightly over your distended clit, adding pressure, circling the cluster of nerve endings, making yourself wetter, letting him slide in a little bit more. Joel fights to maintain his control. "Fuck, you feel so good, so tight."

Despite his willingness to take it slow, your hormones are asking for something else. "Take what's yours," you whisper. "I want you to."

A deep groan rips loose from his chest at your words, the sound thick with need and desire, his control fraying at the thought of claiming you with a hard and deep thrust. "Take a deep breath, darlin'." He takes your hand, lacing your fingers together, his grip reassuring. "I love you, my sweet girl, my sunshine.." He pulls out slightly, his body tensing as he prepares, and his eyes lock with yours as he thrusts forward, hard and deep. You cry out in surprise and pain, which is little more than a brief shock before you become acclimated, leaving you with a lingering dull throb.

"Hey, shh, it's okay, it's okay darlin', breathe for me. You did so good, you took me all, such a good girl," comes Joel's praise as he cups your cheek with one hand and stroking your belly, easing the pressure there from his length taking up room so deep inside you. When you inadvertently squeeze around him, stretching to fit him, it sends a shock of pleasure spiraling through him. "Damn.. if you keep squeezin' me like that I ain't gonna last long, darlin'," he warns. He takes a deep breath, slowly pulling out, savoring the drag of it, before slowly pushing back in, starting a gentle, deliberate rhythm. "You're perfect, sugar."

Soon the friction begins to cancel out the dull ache, more so with each thrust. "Feels good," you sigh.

Joel's eyes flutter closed, his rhythm remaining slow and gentle, the feel of you surrounding him, the feel of being buried inside your warmth as the most perfect sort of pleasure, his breath coming in short pants. "Sweetheart.. oh sweetheart.. oh god.. damn you feel so right, like you were made for me."

"You were right," you smile, "you do fit."

"Yeah darlin', I'm right where I'm meant to be, buried so deep inside my sweet girl." He keeps moving against you, spine tingling with delight as he feels you moving with him, naturally, your bodies in sync with one another. "Yes, just like that.. move with me, sweetheart."

Your brows furrow in pleasure, heart swelling at his praise. "Joel.. give me more.."

He groans, his eyes darkening as his pace quickens, hips rolling forward with a little more determination, the sounds of your flesh slapping together filling the air. "Like this, sugar?"

"Yes! Fuck!" you groan, lightning filling your veins as you move quicker together. Your words shoot straight to his soul, heat pooling and coiling in his gut. "God, Joel, I'm so close!" you whimper. His breath comes in sharp pants as he drives you closer to the edge, his rhythm growing rougher, less controlled. "Me too, sugar. I'm right there with you.. wanna feel you come around me, wanna hear you say my name. Say it, darlin', come for me and say my name."

"God!!" Eyes scrunched tight you let go, coming hard as your cunt clenches around him, fluttering hard and fast. "Oh!! Joel!!" you scream. Joel's pushed over the edge, giving a few jerky thrusts before you feel him twitching and pulsing inside you, filling you with his cum, his thighs shaking from the force of his pleasure. "Oh, fuuuucckk," he groans, burying his face in the crook of your neck, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths, heart pounding wildly.

You feel his heart racing next to yours, almost as if beating with the same cadence, both of you trembling, spent, satisfied. He raises himself on his arms to look down at you. "You're so damn gorgeous, you know that? Especially when you're all breathless and flushed, still quakin' from comin' so hard."

Despite the breathtaking passion you'd just shared, you still blush. "Came hard thanks to you," you give him a soft kiss.

Joel grins, a cocky, proud smirk tugging at his lips, feeling a warm glow in his chest. He gently brushes back a strand of your hair. "How you feelin', sugar?"

"A little sore," you admit. "But I think, considering what we're working with, a little pressure was to be expected," you smirk, still feeling him inside you.

He chuckles, the sound of it making your heart thrum, as he slowly pulls out, knowing your still sensitive. "You took me like a goddamn champ, sweetheart."

You whimper at the loss of him, feeling his cum dribble out of you, and your eyes light up at his praise. "Really?"

"Really." He gazes down at you, his eyes a mixture of speculation and resourcefulness. "You wanna come with me to New Mexico, darlin'?"

divider by @saradika-graphics 👑

[mothandpidgeon]

The Outlaws (outlaw!Joel Miller x f!reader) Masterlist

pairing: Outlaw!Joel Miller x f!reader rating: E 18+ MDNI

summary: Wanted for murder with a bounty on your head, your only hope of escaping the Pinkerton detectives is an outlaw named Joel Miller and his sidekick Ellie. But Joel has other plans for you. series contents : old west au, train robberies, enemies to lovers, grumpy Joel, handcuffed together, forced proximity, smut, period/genre/canon typical violence, alcohol, morally grey characters, assuming Ellie’s gender, reader has backstory, only one bed, no use of y/n. [check chapter warnings…I’ll update here]

about the reader: Reader is able bodied, bisexual, and has hair. She is an outlaw in her own right– a criminal and killer and frankly slightly unhinged (affectionate). She hails from Missouri and has a tragic backstory but, as always, I try not to include physical descriptors. Her age isn’t explicitly mentioned but she is an adult woman.

Moth's Masterlist - follow @mothandpidgeon-updates an turn on notifications so stay updated with my fics!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

MORE

Playlist

Moodboard by @ezrasbirdie

[annasinterests]

10 characters/10 fandoms/10 tags

thank you @daydreamingmiller for the tag 🩷

diane pemberley - the outlaws

hughie campbell - the boys

percy de rolo - the legend of vox machina

nami - one piece

arthur morgan - red dead redemption 2

joel miller - the last of us

rhaenyra targaryen - house of the dragon

din djarin - the mandalorian

castiel - supernatural

tony stark - marvel cinematic universe

+ bonus! owen grady - jurassic world

npt: @tinygarbage @katiexpunk @morning-star-joy @agaritas @photo1030 @sickvictorianangel @lumoverheaven @bastardmandennis @forgetminot @nostalxgic (sorry if you've already been tagged i just love you so much!!!!)

[abhomo]

Jolted awake muttering “TLOU cowboy AU”

[rocknroll2024]

Join the country club of listeners. You’ll be glad you did!!!🤠🎸🎶

[clynrx]

just read the most perfect fanfic of all time and i find out it's not a like 15 chapter series it's a ONE-SHOT. now i'll never know if miss sugar went to see mr miller 😔💔

[macfrog]

homesick

a cowboy like me one shot

oh, i missed these two. here's a little check-in on my favorite morally irresponsible outlaws.

pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you spend the weekend back home in austin with joel.

warnings: age gap (early 20s/late 40s), twinge of angst, piv sex in the shower (beware of slippage). you know the drill with these two. part of the cowboy like me universe, but can probably be enjoyed as a standalone.

word count: 6.3k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🧡

“This is Joel Miller. I can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to ya.”

You wait for the beep, pacing along a wall of steel cylinders. The laundromat is stifling, the machines’ drumming deafening. It’s eighty-something degrees out, and it’s only six o’clock.

“Pick up, Miller. Hello? Hello? I know you’re there. Can’t come to the –” you clear your throat, strum the twang in your vocal cords, “– Can’t come to the ph-owww-ne right n–”

The line clicks as he picks the handset up.

“Did you call just to make fun of me, kid?”

You halt, spinning on your heel. “So you were screening me?”

He scoffs. “Didn’t notice the time. I’ve been out back with Tommy.”

“Oh,” you mellow, tongue curling around your ice cream, “We don’t have to call right now, you know. I’m just doing laundry.”

“It is six there, right?”

“Yeah, but don’t let me keep you. Go hang with your brother.”

Joel sighs as he sinks back into his couch. “Keep me. He knows you were calling tonight. He’s probably outside fraternizing with the neighbor, anyway. Won’t even notice I’m gone. Laundry, huh?”

“Mhm.” You suckle on the lip of the waffle cone. “It’s a beautiful night, and I’m stuck being force-fed Mötley Crüe and watching a steel drum shred my panties.”

“Sounds like a good time to me.”

“Enough, cowboy.”

“I like Mötley Crüe,” he chuckles. “They got some hits under their belt.”

“Name five.”

“Five,” he says. “You’re asking a lot there, darlin’.”

“Of Mötley Crüe or of your memory, old man?”

Joel hums. “Should’ve seen that one coming, baby.”

You boost yourself up onto one of the dryers, swinging your legs. If there were anyone else in the laundromat, you’d care to hide your fluster – but you’re here on your own, and the man just melts you. All girlish and giggly, you feel his words swirl around your stomach like sweet honey.

“Tell me about your day,” you say, covering the flutter in your voice with another mouthful of ice cream.

“Well,” Joel says, “weather’s fine, work’s fine. Almost done with that renovation for your favorite clients.”

You gasp. “The old couple with the cats?”

He grumbles. “That’s them. They still hate me, by the way.”

“The couple, or the cats?”

“…Jury’s out.”

You snicker.

“Then, uh, I called Sarah, had some dinner, and now here I am talkin’ to you.”

“Hm. I’m your favorite part, right? I’m your favorite part of today?”

Joel pauses, breathing for a moment. Slow, quiet, but sure, he says: “You’re my favorite part of every day.”

The smile on your face cracks, crumbles into something more pained. Your heart sinks.

It’s been three months since you were last home. Technically, it’s been seven weeks since you were in Austin – but Joel was out of town for the weekend, and you spent four days cleaning your dad’s gutter and watching westerns.

It’s been three months since you were last in Joel’s arms. In his house, in his clothes, in his bed. Three months since you heard his voice not through the crackle of a thousand miles apart; since you smelled him on your skin, not on the flannels you’ve stolen from him.

Three long, tough months.

And it means nothing, anyway. All this missing each other. So you tell yourselves, and so you tell everyone else. You’re not together, you’re not committed. You’ve been seeing other people, so has Joel – even if he’s only been on two dates in the nine months since you moved away.

Spending a casual weekend together here and there is enough to get you by. It’s easier this way, right? It’s cleaner. There are no crossed wires, no strings at risk of becoming tangled.

Only – your entire relationship is woven in tangled strings. Messy, knotted, twisted around your fingers and threaded through your ribs. A summer’s worth of weaving yourselves closer and closer together, only to be pulled apart come fall.

It didn’t take long to prove that when a knot is pulled, it only binds tighter.

It only binds sorer.

“Anyway,” Joel says, “your turn. How was your day?”

You gulp, slipping down from the dryer to check on your wash. If you speak, you’ll break, and if you break, you’ll sob.

“Baby? You still there?”

“Yep,” you croak. You wipe your eyes with your sleeve and shake your head. “I – uh…Yeah, my day was fine.”

The line quietens.

“You sure? Everything okay at work?”

Your reflection blinks back at you in the window of the machine, warped and molten. She opens her mouth and replies, “All good.”

He can read you even three states apart. “Let me call you back. Hold on.”

The call disconnects before you can protest. Over your shoulder, another regular shuffles into the laundromat.

She smiles, skin supple and sun-spotted, looking but not looking you in the eye. She slides her full basket over one of the machines on the other side of the room, and tosses her clothes into the drum.

When your phone vibrates again, you pass by her and out onto the street.

Joel’s pixelated living room stretches across your screen.

“Joel,” you sniff, “Joel, it’s –”

“Can you see me?”

“No, you gotta flip your –”

“…never know why the damn thing don’t –”

“The button with the arrows. The camera button, Joel, it’s –”

His coffee table flips, and in place – straight, dark brows drawn tight in a frown. Crows feet, scar across the bridge of his nose. Peppered hair a little longer than the last time you called, beard a little thicker.

The only person in the world who can weaken your knees and splinter your chest, in one fleeting glance.

“Hi, baby girl,” he whispers, expression softening. “Look at you.”

You slump against the warm wall, sliding down. One sight of him, and your knees give. “Oh, my God, I miss you today.”

Joel laughs. His head cocks, smirk tugging at his lips. “I miss you every day.”

“Yeah, that’s – that’s what I…” you sigh, “…That’s what I meant. It’s just – some days, you feel a little further away.”

“Today one of those days?”

You nod. A car soars by, whipping hot air from the road which pours over your bare legs. “It’s just…been a day. That’s all.”

“We can talk about it, if you want. You’re hell of a lot smarter than me, darlin’, but I’ve had my share of bad days before. Never does any harm to get it off your chest.”

He smiles. It breaks your heart.

He works ten hours straight, some days. Out at the crack of dawn, home with only enough time and energy to nuke something in the microwave. Somewhere amongst that, he fits in beers with Tommy and ridiculous DIY jobs your dad elicits his help for.

And still – he sets aside an hour or two every few nights, specially for you. He collapses into his couch, decaf in his mug, and puts the world to rights with you on the other end of the phone.

The meaningless work dramas, the paper building up on your desk. The commute, for the love of God – the traffic jams you swear will one day be the death of you. The last thing Joel needs is to listen to your problems on end, and you tell him so.

“Bullshit,” he replies. He shakes his head, takes a sip of his beer. “I asked, didn’t I? Talk to me. Tell me what’s goin’ on.”

You groan. “I just…I wish I could turn my brain off. Just for a little while. No meetings, no call times. No helping my dad trim the trees in the yard when I’m home for the weekend.”

He laughs. “He rope you into that one too, huh?”

“Sure did.” You tense your fist, wince at the memory of splinters you were still plucking from your palm even weeks later.

“I got nothing to complain about,” you tell Joel, “I know that. This job is…it’s right where I want to be. Just – sometimes, I miss being back in Austin, following you around Costco and hiding from my dad. It’s like life was simpler then.”

Joel chokes. “I guarantee you,” he coughs, thumping his chest clear of beer, “life was not simpler. Not by a long shot. Goddamn.”

He swings to his feet and wanders across the room to his kitchen. Past his armchair, past the guitar mounted on the wall. Past the dining chair he always hangs his coat from. You know the anatomy of his home better than your own, it feels like.

You sure as hell miss it more than your own.

“Lemme see…” Joel squints over his phone. He leans over his kitchen counter. “What’s next weekend look like for you?”

You shrug. “My weekend off.”

“Nothing planned?”

“Nothing yet.”

He nods. “I’m meeting a supplier on Saturday afternoon, but if you can stand to be without me for a few hours, then…”

His eyebrows lift.

So do yours. “Then…?”

“I can look at flights,” Joel says, “get you booked tonight. Pick you up Friday, drop you off Sunday. Spend the whole weekend with your brain shut off, if that’s what you’re lookin’ for.”

A wave of warmth floods through your chest. Relief, maybe – or simple adoration for the man on the other end of the phone. Most likely, the way it always seems with Joel, it’s both at once.

He loves you. Enough to break every rule in the book. To go behind his best friend’s back for an entire summer. He loves you enough to let you go, watch you follow your wildest dreams, and then be the safety net at the end of each long day, each hard night.

He loves you enough to scratch everything off his calendar for a few days, just to make sure you’re okay. Just to hold you in his arms, heart beating a rhythm he knows better than his own. Just to sing you to sleep, and wake you up with burnt toast and runny eggs.

You pull the collar of your shirt over your nose and weep into the material. “I ever tell you how much I love you?”

He smiles. “Not half as much as I love you.”

“Gross.”

“I know.”

The laundromat door flings open.

Face now flushed and hair scraped back, the woman clocks you immediately and throws a pointed finger in your direction. “Are you coming to get your panties or what, little girl?”

She clicks her teeth and disappears again. The blind hanging over the door rattles with the force it slams closed.

“Guess that’s my cue,” you whisper, heaving to your feet. “Better go get my panties.”

“Why?” Joel’s making his way back outside. “Ain’t like you’re gonna need ‘em.”

You scoff. “Talk later, cowboy.”

Austin welcomes you back with a delayed flight, a screaming seatmate, and a raging headache.

The airport is busy. Loud busy. All chittering couples, hordes of kids with nauseatingly bright backpacks. You drag your suitcase through to arrivals, careful not to trip over the wheels of the stroller ahead.

When you spot his tall, dark figure weaving between bodies, the gate hushes. You move towards him by instinct, parting the crowd as you go. The magnet in your chest senses its partner drawing nearer, and nearer, and nearer.

And nearer, until he’s reaching out. He’s close enough that his hands land on your waist, and it’s the first time in three months that you’ve felt this weight – his weight, the way only he feels – all around you.

Joel pulls you in to his chest. He locks you in, resting his chin on your head.

“Hi, honey.”

You inhale his scent, breathe in the comfort of him. “Hi,” you exhale.

Tears prickle at your eyes. It feels stupid. He looks down at you, thumb swiping across your cheek, and a salty droplet spills.

“How was the flight?” he asks.

“Good.”

“You okay?”

“Perfect, now.”

“You look perfect,” Joel grins, “Look like the sun.”

And you could swat him away, could shrug him and his flirting off. The sun sure as hell doesn’t look stewed in three-hour plane, too tired to move and too clingy to unhook from her dad’s best friend’s arm.

But that’s not what he’s saying, is it?

You do look different. You feel different. You feel brand new. Golden – just like the sun.

These days, it feels like there are two versions of you. One, you’ve spent the better part of a year polishing off – electric and vibrant, eyes wide and head spinning, moving through her day like gliding on air and then collapsing in a heap come nightfall. Chaos with a clipboard and call sheet.

And the other – slower. Steadier. Surer on her feet, simpler in her ways. Dust under her heels and a Texan shine in her smile. Honeylike; moving where her body tells her to go, drinking up the world as she pleases.

There’s a moment, stood under the fluorescent lights of the terminal, where you feel the first give way to the second. Safe now, in Joel’s arms, to slip back into her old, worn boots and shutter her mind – even just for this weekend.

“Come on,” he whispers, wrapping his hand around yours. “Let’s get you home.”

And there never seemed like a better idea than that.

He keeps your things in his shower caddy.

Bottom basket, strictly yours. Shampoo and conditioner and bodywash and a loofah, all exactly where you left them last time you were here. He says it as he cranks the handle, holds his palm under the flow until it’s just right.

“The strawberry stuff…?” Joel nods to the bottle, face screwed.

You gasp. “You don’t like it?”

He shakes his head. “Like it on you. I smelled like a fruit farm for a week, baby.”

“Makes a change from wood trimmings,” you mutter, peeling the shirt from your chest.

Joel glares over his shoulder. “You wanna say that a little louder?”

“No, sir,” you whisper, and step into the cubicle.

The water pours over your head and down your spine, breathing life back into your body. You close your eyes and let it wash down your face. LA feels so distant, so lost to the steam and serenity in Joel’s ensuite.

He lingers in the doorway, watching as you turn under the shower. He smiles when you hold your hand out and flick your fingers.

“Soap, please.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, dropping it in your palm.

You slip the velvety bar over your skin. The soap lathers in thick, milky bubbles, cascading over your chest down to your hips. Your hands lift from your navel to cup your breasts, pinching your nipples between soft fingers.

Joel’s jaw ticks. He crosses his arms, shoulders tensing. “Easy, darlin’. Dancing with the devil here.”

It burns low in your stomach.

You pass him the bar back. “Maybe I want to dance,” you murmur. “Maybe he does, too.”

His eyebrows lift. “Maybe he does,” he agrees. He trades the soap for shampoo, tapping the bottle against your hip.

The heat grows under your skin. Having him watch, his close eye on you as you wash the suds from your hair and slick bodywash over your skin.

His eyes drift from your chest to your waist, looping up to your soaked eyelashes and dripping bottom lip, diving again between your legs.

Hungry. Starved, even.

Three months of secret photos and sexy phone calls to get you both by. Three months of imagining you, fist around his cock in the dead of night, coating his stomach just with the thought of you.

And right here, right now, in his shower: the real thing. The forbidden fruit. Body hot and skin soaked, just as desperate as he is. Just as needy.

You step forward, reaching for his shoulders. Arms around his neck, dampening the collar of his shirt, you pull him closer.

“Dance with me,” you whisper against his lips, stealing a kiss.

Joel’s gaze darkens. He takes your jaw and tilts your head back. Voice like thunder rolling over you, he warns, “I told someone we’d be somewhere.”

You smile, tugging on the hem of his shirt. “We’re running late. Something’s come up.”

His arms lift and you pull the cotton over his head, tossing it to the floor. He’s the same solid sculpture as always. Strong and wide, torso scattered with hair which thickens across the span of his chest.

He rids himself of his boots and jeans, kicks his underwear off, and joins you under the water. So big that he corners you, so tall that he has to adjust the showerhead.

Pressed up against your body; warm, manly scent raining over you. He’s hard, tucked right by your hip, rutting gently as he steals kiss after kiss.

He’s addicted to it. To you. Has been ever since that first night, the first taste of poison. Has been, probably, since that first glimpse of you last summer. For all the wrong reasons and in all the wrong ways, for better or worse –

You break him open. You make him weak.

Joel groans when you wrap your hand around him. That familiar weight in your grasp. He glances down to watch your slow strokes, fighting back a filthy smile.

“Missed you,” he breathes, voice lost to the patter of the shower. He slips a hand between your legs. “Ain’t gonna last long, are you?”

“Fuck,” you hiss, grinding into his palm. You toy with his bottom lip, nipping at the edges of his smirk. “We got all weekend. Just – just fuck me.”

He hikes your leg over his hip and lines up. A blooming ache when he notches at your hole, tip teasing your entrance.

Your back curls. You wrap your arms around Joel’s neck, whimpering into his chest.

“’s alright,” he kisses your neck, “Just take it nice ‘n slow. Get her used to me again, baby.”

He pushes inside, two heavy hands on your waist. Always in control, always easing you in. He holds you delicately, moving inch by inch, watching the twist of your brow and bite of your lip before sinking in further.

He reaches up and tilts the downpour to the wall. Lifts your fragile body, split in two on his cock, and pushes you against the tile.

Your cunt aches as he slides out. She clamps around his tip. It hurts – but you don’t want to let him go.

“Stay,” you cry, nails digging into his shoulders. “Stay inside me.”

He hums and presses his lips to the hinge of your jaw. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere, baby. I’m right here.”

His hips move forward. Your cunt opens for him the deeper he moves. Like welcoming him home, remembering the way it feels to be this full. The stretch of taking him, the air stolen from your lungs. The love you can never find the beginning nor the end of.

And then he’s moving quicker, sharper, one arm wrapped around your neck to cradle your head. Hips snapping against yours, slowing to a roll when you yelp.

Whispering sweet nothings in your ear – how good you’re taking him, how tight she is. How much he’s missed this, missed her, missed you. Never wants to let you go, never wants to be anywhere except right here, feeding you his cock and watching you come undone.

“Made for me, huh?” Joel grunts. He presses his forehead to yours and slips the words across your tongue. “All mine.”

“All yours,” you echo, weeping under him. The flame catches and curls around your stomach.

The missing piece to the last nine months. The dead-end dates, the hazy hookups. Awkward good mornings, and goodbyes that never seem to come quick enough. Sneaking off home to shower the scent of it away, to replace it with something sweeter.

Him.

Because none of them are him.

They don’t make you laugh and they don’t make you come. They don’t see you, don’t hang on your every word. They don’t – they can’t break your world apart and paint it something new. They don’t know your every move, don’t understand the most fleeting glances.

You could spend forever circling every bar and every diner; what do you do for work and where did you grow up. You could chase the tail of every flannel shirt, search all over for that twinkle in his eye.

They’re not him. They’ll never be him.

Joel coaxes you where he needs you. He fucks you until you’re quivering in his arms, head rolling across his shoulder. His thrusts begin to stall, breathing turns to panting, teeth sink into any part of your skin he can find.

He moans into your neck. The sound nudges you towards the edge.

“I’m close, baby,” he grits, “’m so close.”

You look up at him through tear-soaked eyes.

Three months. Since the last time he touched you, kissed you, fucked you like this. Since the last time he lost control, came deeper inside than anyone before, or anyone since.

Three months since the last time you held him in your hands, lined your lips with his, and begged him to stay in you.

Joel laughs. “Dangerous little game, darlin’.”

But he’s fading. He’s falling under, same as you are.

You want it. You need it. Need to be full of him – that ache when you walk, the warmth leaking down the inseam of your thighs. The feeling of being his, all his; ruined and wrecked in the sweetest way.

“Stay – inside,” you plead. “I want you to – want it so bad.”

“Keep begging, honey. Sound so cute when you’re desperate.”

“Please, Joel,” it’s getting harder to hold, “Just wanna feel you in me –”

“I know, I know,” he shushes.

You tense in his arms, gasping. “I’m gonna – come –”

“So,” Joel smirks, “come.”

And it snaps.

You scream into his chest. Your climax pulls you under, drowns you in a heavy wave of pleasure. Your hips lock, legs clamp around his waist as you cry out.

He plants a hand flat against the tile to steady himself. He holds you still as his own orgasm rolls through, pumping your swollen cunt with each rush of warm release.

You collapse against his body, bubbling and mumbling something incoherent.

He hears you, though.

He shuts the water off and rocks you back and forth. His cock slips from between your legs. “Shh, shh,” lips to your temple, “’s my girl. Such a good girl, baby. So good for me.”

You hum in response and pull yourself upright. You trace the shape of his beard, soaking wet and soft under your touch, following the droplets of water to his chin.

He kisses the tips of your fingers. “I love you,” he says. Chants it like a prayer, leaning closer and closer until his lips are against yours. “Love you more ‘n anything.”

You giggle. “You’re tickling me.”

Joel nuzzles his nose into your neck. He wriggles his fingers under your ribcage. “Can’t get enough of you,” his tongue swipes across your hot skin, “Swear to God, baby, you’re killing me.”

“Joel,” your head falls back with a clap of laughter, “Joel, stop – oh, my God, you have to stop, please – Joel!”

He hoists you onto his hips and turns. Hands still exploring, still pinching and squeezing everywhere they shouldn’t be, he carries you out to his bedroom and drops you onto the mattress.

“Here,” he chuckles, wrapping a towel around your body. He knots it over your chest and rubs your waist, before flopping down onto the bed with a sigh.

You roll over on top of him and fix the dripping hair from his forehead. “Missed you,” you whisper, trailing kisses along his collarbone.

He smiles. His heart flutters beneath yours. “Missed you more,” he says.

His semen drips between your legs. He’s softening against the inside of your thigh. The bed is soaked, sheets that’ll need changed before you sleep tonight. You’re tired, spent, pussy throbbing from the loss of him – and it’s all so perfect.

Being here, with him. Seeing him, feeling him on your body. In your body, for crying out loud. Holding him, kissing him, loving him up close.

It’s fucking perfect.

“What are we running late for?” you ask.

Joel’s eyes flutter open. He cocks his head, frowning.

“You said we had somewhere to be,” you clarify.

“Oh,” he winces, “Uh, your dad’s. He’s havin’ us for dinner.”

“Oh,” you echo. “When is he expecting –?”

He glances at the clock. “Half hour ago.”

“Nice.” You push yourself up, slipping from his grasp. “Well, this is about to be awkward.”

Joel folds his arms behind his head. He tracks your flurried movements: lugging your bag across the floor, tearing through it for an outfit that doesn’t scream, Your best friend just fucked me senseless in his shower.

When you straighten and lift your arms, eyes wide, his lips turn.

“You said you wanted to dance, baby. I was just following orders.”

The sun filters through the leaves, breathing back and forth with the sway of the trees.

You’re horizontal in a deckchair, feet in Joel’s lap, blanket around your shoulders. Full on burgers and baseball talk; if it weren’t for your dad’s riveting conversation about his new lawnmower, you’d probably be asleep.

“Ride-on,” he tells Joel, nodding. It makes gardening a real thrill, apparently. He flicks a hand over the span of the yard. “Whole thing done in less than twenty minutes. Hank says he’s half a mind to make an investment himself.”

Joel purses his lips. He strokes your ankles soothingly. “Sounds like a good buy,” he placates.

Your dad drums on his armrests, admiring his yard some more. He mumbles something about raking the leaves, painting the fence, then – with a vigor that makes you jump, he taps your arm.

“How’s work, kiddo? Still rockin’ ‘n rollin’?”

Your eyes flash across Joel’s. The hell does that even mean?

The corner of his lip twitches. Your guess is as good as mine.

“Yep,” you lie. “Living the dream, Dad.”

Joel says nothing. He hasn’t told your dad why you came home – hasn’t even mentioned the tears outside the laundromat. Your secret is safe with him, you know that. Some puzzles are easier to figure out, the less eyes that are on them.

He hasn’t even brought it up with you yet. Granted, you’ve been home all of four hours, and a solid quarter of that time has been spent naked with him back at his place – but he’s waiting for you to make the first move.

This weekend doesn’t have to be about work. Hell, it doesn’t even have to be about you feeling homesick. It can be as simple as you hadn’t seen your dad for a few weeks, or you heard the news about the damn lawnmower and just had to pay a visit.

It’s what you’ve always loved so much about Joel. It’s what reeled you into him in the first place.

He just lets you be. No questions, no pressure, no worries. He knows you’ll figure it out – you always do. And if he knows that, then it makes you believe in it, too.

Dad sinks back into his chair with a sigh. “What’s on the cards this weekend, then?”

“Joel’s down San Antonio way tomorrow,” you yawn, “Some supplier meeting.”

“You don’t feel like a road trip?”

Your eyes roll to Joel. He’s already staring back. You cock an eyebrow, smirking into your glass.

His shoulder rolls in a shrug. “Your call, chief,” he says, tipping his drink to you.

The minute he mentioned the meeting last week, you knew you’d be tagging along. Two hours each way and an hour in between is too big a chunk of your weekend together to miss out on.

That – and you’ve missed Joel’s front-seat singing.

It doesn’t matter what you planned on doing – rolling around his bed for three days straight, driving to San Antonio and back. Hell, trimming your dad’s trees and cleaning his guttering.

As long as you’re doing it with Joel, it’s enough.

It’s what you came home for in the first place.

The drive passes quickly enough. Joel’s truck doesn’t have Bluetooth, and he only keeps three discs in his glove compartment: Don McLean’s American Pie, a Guitar Classics compilation album, and a blank disc with SARAH MILLER, SECOND GRADE scrawled in Sharpie.

He whips it from your hands when you fish it out of the compartment.

“Listen, listen to this,” Joel says, slotting it in the tray. “Found it a couple weeks ago. I listen to it when I’m drivin’ to work.”

Her squeaky, seven-year-old voice punches through the cabin. “Welcome to my presentation –” she roars into the mic, pausing when a voice picks up in the background. “Huh?” Sarah asks.

“You’re holdin’ the mic too close,” Joel murmurs, almost fourteen years younger. “Farther. Farther,” he says, and then – “Alright. Go.”

“Welcome to my presentation on Amelia E-Earhart,” she resumes, clearing her throat. “She…Oh, Daddy, we gotta restart. I forgot to tell ‘em my name.”

Joel covers his laughter with his fist, reciting it line for line. “Tommy said he’s gonna make her a copy for her birthday,” he says.

“Oh, my God. She’s gonna hate you guys, you know that, right?”

He nods. “I’m countin’ on it.”

Sarah rounds off a few facts about twentieth century air travel before Joel swaps her for the radio. He hands you the disc and you place it safely back in the glove compartment.

You curl up in the passenger seat, swinging your legs over to his lap.

He rubs your calves and glances over, smiling. “You okay over there?”

“I’m more tired than I was when I landed,” you reply, and he laughs.

You haven’t had much of a chance to catch up on sleep. The second you made it home last night, your dress was on the floor at the foot of Joel’s bed. He woke you this morning with his lips on your thighs, your underwear around your ankles.

He was midway through cooking breakfast when you floated into the kitchen to return the favor. The toast burned, the eggs shriveled to a crisp, and your knees bruised.

Fuck it, right? You’ll miss him when you’re gone. When all that’s left are the memories, and the sound of his climax through speakerphone.

An afternoon spent on the road is good recovery time, then, for all that’s waiting for you when you make it back to Joel’s tonight.

A few off-key covers of fifty number ones from the last fifty years later, you’re pulling into a barren lot headered by a beige trailer. The supplier springs out – a beefy guy with a full head of thick, white hair. He crosses the lot as Joel parks up.

Joel rounds the truck, pausing when he spots you lingering at the tailgate. He curves a hand around your neck, thumb circling over your pulse point. “You comin’?”

You twist the hem of your tee around your finger. “Maybe I’ll stay out here and wait. It’s a nice night, and you ain’t gonna be too long, right?”

He shakes his head. “Be as fast as I can. If it gets dark out, you come inside, alright?”

You shuffle into his embrace. “Promise.”

He kisses your head and steps back. “Here,” he slips the flannel from his shoulders, “If you’re sittin’ out. Got my phone if you need me.”

He disappears inside and the door falls closed. A cluster of moths twirls around the light on the trailer’s side. You hop up on the bed of the truck, crossing Joel’s shirt around your frame, and nestle against the back window.

The sun pulls down towards the horizon, sending dregs of daytime in ripples to the stars. She’s still alight just beyond the trees, still burning a hole in the sky. She winks at you from a distance.

The world looks different from Austin. Bigger, like the view from your bedroom window. There’s always more, just beyond the horizon. There has to be more, right? More than four pink walls and a chest of drawers. More than Sal’s store, more than Rita’s cross stitch.

You chased that more halfway across the country – only to realize it was in your hands the whole time.

Him and his lazy smile, sarcasm as thick as the accent he speaks it in. Rolled up sleeves and messy collar; a half-empty cup of coffee and a cracked watch face.

He’s all the more you could ever need.

You’re still perched on the tailgate, staring skyward, when Joel finishes up.

He swaggers across the lot, tan arms speckled with dry dirt, boots kicking up dust. He tosses a fistful of papers in the front seat, then drifts around to settle between your knees.

“Hi,” he whispers, tucking his nose under your jaw.

“Hi.”

He plants his hands either side of your hips and kisses your neck. “Home time, sweet girl.”

You glance over your shoulder.

This time tomorrow, you’ll be on your flight back. Row twelve, seat C. Joel’s flannel over your shoulders, slowly forgetting the scent of him, mile by mile. You’ll sleep with it tucked under your chin until it no longer smells like oak or pine, or the mint bodywash he uses.

You’ll miss it the way you’ll miss him. Holding onto every last moment. Deep morning voice, warm, safe embrace. The rumble of a laugh in his chest, the glimmer or mischief in his eye. The touches he saves just for you; the words he whispers when the lights turn out.

You wrap your arms around his neck.

“Can we go watch the sunset somewhere?”

Joel glances off behind you. His eyes flit back to yours, sunlight catching their ochre and setting him ablaze.

“Get in,” he pulls you down, “I know just the spot.”

It’s almost dusk by the time you reach the outlook.

A twisty dirt road which opens up between some trees, halfway out of the city. Joel reverses the truck and parks in the clearing. The two of you slide onto the tailgate, sharing a bag of fruit gums he had stored alongside Sarah’s CD.

The stars turn one by one, dotted across deep indigo. The last of the day’s blush still lingers where the city meets the sky. Tucked between trees and twilight, it feels as though you’re the only two in the world.

Joel holds the bag out, and you pinch a couple pieces of candy. “How you feelin’?” he asks, looking out to the skyline.

“Okay, I guess,” you mutter. “This has been a nice reset. I wish I could take you back with me.”

Joel laughs. “I don’t.”

“No?” you suckle on the sweet fruit, “I think you’d fit right in.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” He shakes his head, pinching your chin. “Naw, LA is yours. It’s something you did, all by yourself. I am so proud of you, honey, do you know that? I mean, I miss you like hell, I really do…”

He glances back down, rustling the bag in his hands. He’s hiding, you know him well enough. Staring at his lap instead of in your eye. When he looks back up, there’s a glimmer along his waterline.

“…But the way I feel any time you call, and I know…I know you’re out there doin’ something you actually give a shit about. You ain’t stuck here, too big for your own bedroom, too comfortable for anywhere else.”

He slips a hand over your knee and squeezes.

It’s infuriating, how right he always is. You’re working your fucking ass off, and for good reason. Austin was always too small for the world inside your head. Missing each other is a price you’re both willing to pay, for the luxury of not missing out on every dream you’ve ever had.

But –

“What if it keeps getting harder?” you sniff, “What if I need you more?”

Joel clicks his teeth. “’s always gonna get harder. That’s life, darlin’. But the hard times won’t last forever. And when it feels real tough, and you feel like you can’t do it no more, you call me. You jump on the next flight. You switch your brain off, and you let me take care of you for a little while.”

You shake your head. Tears break loose, rolling down your cheeks. “I can’t ask that of you, Joel, you got your own shit to worry about –”

“Baby.” He sighs. “I’m old. I’ve done everything I think I oughta do. You know, the days I know you’re gonna be callin’ at eight o’clock – it’s all I can think about. I’m at work checking my watch every five minutes.”

You giggle, turning into the crook of his arm.

“It’s true,” Joel snickers, “I’m like a goddamn teenager. That’s what you do to me.”

He catches you and pulls you against his chest.

“What I’m saying is – there ain’t nothing that matters more to me in the world than you. My own shit to worry about? You mean – you?”

“Shut up,” you scoff, spitting tears into his shirt.

“You call,” he says, resolute, “and I’ll be there.”

“I’m calling,” you whisper. “I’m always calling.”

“Then I’m always here.”

You sit back, bracing yourself on Joel’s thighs. He wipes the wet from your cheeks and fixes his shirt over your shoulders.

“You know, one day,” you tell him, “you’re gonna get a call, and it’s not just gonna be for the weekend.”

He smiles. “I know.”

“One day, I’m gonna come home forever, Joel.”

“I know,” he repeats. “And I’ll be on the front porch waitin’.”

[daryltwdixon]

I want to give Joel Miller a lap dance. Feel his hands all over my body as I grind into him and he moans my name. He'll be begging to be inside me and I'll finally give in and ride him until he fills me up with his cum. That's it. That's the request. (Jesus, it's suddenly hot in here, huh?)

Joel x Reader Happy Birthday

warnings: straight smut MDNI

I listened to I See Red by Everybody Loves an Outlaw while writing

a/n: oh, anon. you did something to me here. I've been thinking about it all day. I took it in a slightly different direction but anyway. another note: I am not the kinda woman who gives lap dances, so this could actually be terrible. enjoy x

It started with the heels. Those fucking heels. You couldn’t say no to them. They were just sitting there on a shelf in the middle of a patrol gone sideways, taunting you.

A rainstorm had hit mid-September in Wyoming, and you and your patrol partner had taken refuge in an old strip mall. The clothing store you holed up in was mostly picked over, but there were still odds and ends for the community back in Jackson—stuff to stock the closet for kids and newcomers.

And then there were the heels. Black, shiny, the kind of tall that bordered on dangerous. They might’ve been ridiculous for patrol, but god, you’d always loved how they looked in those pre-outbreak magazines. The kind of shoes that made women look powerful and untouchable. So, with a “fuck it” shrug, you’d stuffed them into your backpack and thought, Joel’s birthday is coming up anyway.

The idea had snowballed from there. You’d scavenged through the library’s dusty stock of CDs and hit the jackpot: the perfect song. The rest fell into place, one piece at a time, until tonight. Now here you were, standing in front of the mirror, nerves simmering under the surface as you took in your reflection.

The heels did exactly what you’d imagined, making your legs look miles long. The black lace panties you’d picked weren’t the practical kind you usually wore—these were high-cut, with delicate details that felt scandalous against your skin. The bralette matched, sheer enough to leave almost nothing to the imagination, with just enough wire to push your breasts up like a dare. You swallowed hard, heat pooling low in your belly.

To steady yourself, you grabbed one of Joel’s plaid shirts from the bed and slipped it on. The soft, worn fabric still smelled like him—earthy, warm, familiar. The contrast between the shirt and what was underneath made your pulse quicken. It was the anticipation, the audacity of what you were about to do, that left you breathless.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you moved to the living area. Dragging one of the armless chairs from the kitchen table, you placed it squarely in the middle of the room. The boombox was already prepped, the song queued up and ready. With one last deep breath, you perched on the chair and waited.

Waited for Joel to walk through the door.

Joel trudged up the porch steps, every bone in his body aching from patrol. It had been a long one, the kind that left him bone-weary and ready to drop. He pushed the door open, boots heavy against the floor as he shrugged out of his jacket.

“Hey,” he called over his shoulder, voice low and gruff, more out of habit than effort. He didn’t look up, his focus on loosening the laces of his boots, mind already wandering to the promise of a hot shower and a quiet night.

“Happy birthday, handsome.”

Your voice stopped him mid-motion. Warm, teasing, the kind of sound that made him glance up without thinking. He froze, the boot in his hand forgotten as his brain struggled to catch up with what he was seeing.

You were sitting in the middle of the living room, legs crossed like you had all the time in the world. And yet it wasn’t just you sitting there—it was everything else. The heels. The shirt—his shirt—hanging loose over your frame, barely buttoned, leaving enough undone to make his pulse stutter. His eyes followed the long line of your legs, the curve of your thighs, and those damn heels. Shiny, black and undeniably sexy. And then his eyes trailed up, stopping at the curve of her neck, her collarbones, the delicate lace peeking through.

Joel’s throat went dry. He blinked once, then again, like maybe he was seeing things. But no, you were real. You were there. And goddamn, you looked like that.

“What...what’s all this, baby?” he managed, his voice rougher than usual, the words scraping out like he barely had the strength to speak.

You tilted your head, playful and soft all at once, and he hated how it made him feel—off-kilter, like you had all the control in the room. “I told you,” you said, your voice light, teasing but edged with something else. “Happy birthday.”

Joel’s gaze stayed locked on you, his boots still half-off, his body halfway between exhaustion and something else entirely. He shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips despite himself. “Darlin’, you didn’t have to do all this.” His voice was low, a teasing edge there, but the heat behind his words was undeniable.

You felt your stomach flip, but you held your ground, stepping closer to him until your hands rested gently on his chest. His warmth seeped through the fabric of his shirt, the steady rise and fall of his breath grounding you even as your own felt unsteady.

“I know,” you murmured, your tone soft but steady. “But I wanted to. And you deserve it.”

Joel’s smirk deepened, his hands instinctively finding your hips, rough fingers grazing the fabric of his shirt draped over you. “You sure about that? ‘Cause all I’m thinkin’ is takin’ you straight to our room and thankin’ you proper.”

His words sent a flush of heat through you, but you held firm, giving his chest a gentle push. “Not yet,” you said, a teasing glint in your eyes. “Sit down,.”

He raised a brow, his grip on your hips tightening just enough to let you know he wasn’t fully on board. “Darlin’, I’m not exactly in the mood to—”

You pressed your palms more firmly against him, your voice dropping to a whisper. “Sit, Joel.”

The quiet authority in your tone made his resistance falter. He let out a low chuckle, more breath than sound, and leaned back, allowing you to guide him into the chair. His knees spread as he settled in, his arms resting loosely on his thighs, but his eyes never left you.

“One rule,” you said softly, holding up a finger. You sauntered over to the boombox that had been waiting on the side table, taking your finger and hovering over ‘play’. 

“No touching.”

And then the music started.

Your heart was in your throat by now, pounding in time with the heavy thrum of anticipation in your veins. Each deliberate sway of your hips felt like a challenge, and Joel’s eyes tracked every movement as you took slow, pointed steps toward him.

When you reached him, you placed your hands on his knees, leaning down just enough to let the hem of his plaid shirt ride up slightly. You arched your back, pushing your hips out and rolling them in a way that made the lace of your bra peek tantalizingly through the gap in the shirt. His eyes were locked on you, dark and intent, and when you glanced up, you caught him biting his lip, his gaze riveted to the skin you’d left exposed, as though he was imagining how it might feel under his hands.

With every movement, you swung your hips, each roll precise and deliberate. Your hands slid up to your hair, combing through it as you turned your back on him, walking a few slow, teasing steps away. Your hips dipped low with each step, your movements fluid, your intention clear. When you turned back to face him, your fingers found the buttons of his shirt still hanging off your shoulders. You began to undo them one by one, each step bringing you closer to him until the last button came undone.

The shirt slid from your shoulders, pooling at your feet. You kicked it aside, standing before him in nothing but the black lace he was now openly staring at. Joel’s pupils had blown wide, his chest rising and falling with barely restrained tension. He leaned back in the chair, his arms locking behind his head, biceps flexing as though he was physically restraining himself from reaching out. For now, at least, he seemed willing to play along with your game.

Turning around, you hovered just above his lap, bending forward as you rolled your hips, letting your ass dip and brush teasingly against his legs. Your hands trailed over your own body, mapping the curve of your waist and hips as you moved. The heat of his gaze burned into your skin, and you smiled to yourself before finally lowering onto his lap, spreading your legs as you settled against him.

You leaned back slightly, letting your ass press firmly against him, and you felt it—the undeniable hardness straining against his jeans. Your heart quickened, and a teasing smile curved your lips as you glanced over your shoulder at him. His jaw was tight, his teeth clenched, his dark eyes fixed on the way you moved against him.

Joel let out a low, guttural sound as you bent forward, tracing your hands along the floor, your body folding in half over him. His hips bucked up against you then, a reflex he couldn’t seem to control, and you smirked, slipping to the floor and crawling forward on your knees until you turned to face him.

Sliding your hands onto his knees, your eyes met his as he finally spoke, his voice rough, edged with tension. “Oh, so you can touch me, huh?”

“Obviously,” you murmured, the smirk on your lips daring him as your hands trailed up his thighs. He sucked in a sharp breath, his arms still locked behind his head as though anchoring himself, but his hips twitched up toward your touch. Your hands slid higher, over his chest, as you pulled yourself back into his lap, facing him chest to chest.

Your hands slid to your hips as you rolled against him, each movement slow, deliberate, and purposeful. You thought of all the ways he’d gone crazy for you before, the rhythm that always left him undone when you rode his cock, and you worked it now with an extra swivel, a teasing twist to your hips.

“You’re a nasty little thing, baby,” he muttered, his voice thick and gravelly, like he was speaking through clenched teeth. His eyes zeroed in on the straps of your bra as they slid down your shoulders with every roll of your body. The hunger in his gaze made your stomach flip, and you could almost feel the weight of his restraint, like he was moments away from tearing the lace off you with his teeth.

A soft whimper escaped your lips as you ground harder against him, unable to ignore the growing wetness between your thighs or the way your body clenched around nothing. You pushed against his denim-clad hard-on, slow and deliberate, and watched as his eyes squeezed shut, his head tipping back as though he was holding on by a thread.

Sliding your hands up to his neck and then down to flatten against his chest, you leaned closer, wanting to kiss him so fucking bad, but keeping yourself away. If you kissed him, your resistance would falter, and there’d be no going back.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his head tipping back slightly, his neck arching into your touch as though chasing the warmth of your hands. His breath was shallow now, his chest rising and falling beneath your palms as the tension between you thickened, taut and electric.

You barely catch him breathing your name, a whimper, before he was begging, “Please,”

“Please what, Joel?” you whispered back, teasing, even though your own restraint was slipping. You stood then, turning away from him slowly, your hips swaying in time with his ragged breaths. Bending over, you slid your fingers to the waistband of your lace panties, tugging them just enough to reveal a hint of bare skin, only to let them snap back into place.

His head snapped up, his eyes glued to your hands. “I need—” His voice broke, and he dragged his hands down his thighs, rubbing them as though desperate to release some of the tension coiling in his body. “I need to feel you, baby. Please.”

You looked over your shoulder, your lips curling into a soft smile. “Not yet,” you said, your voice low and teasing as you turned back toward him. You lowered yourself into his lap again, back to his chest and your movements slow, deliberate, savoring every inch of contact as you rolled against him.

Joel groaned again, the sound rough and primal, his hands still locked behind his head as though holding onto the last shred of control. You pressed harder against him, rolling your hips deliberately, savoring the friction of his rock hard cock beneath you. The sensation sent a jolt straight through you, and before you could stop yourself, a soft, breathless moan slipped from your lips.

That was all it took.

Joel’s restraint snapped. His arms moved like lightning, one snaking around your waist, pulling you flush against him, while the other slid up, his large, calloused hand curling around the side of your neck. His grip wasn’t tight, just firm enough to hold you in place, to make you feel completely surrounded by him.

“Breakin’ your own rules, huh?” His voice was a low rasp in your ear, thick with desire and edged with the kind of authority that made heat flood through your entire body. His scruff brushed against the curve of your jaw, tickling and scraping in a way that sent sparks down your spine, every nerve alight. “Makin’ all those damn rules and can’t even follow ‘em yourself.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine as his lips barely grazed the shell of your ear. “You want me to be patient,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin, “but here you are, grindin’ on me, moanin’ like you’re beggin’ me to lose control.”

Your breath hitched, your hands instinctively flying to his forearm where it rested against your neck. His grip didn’t falter, holding you there as his hips shifted beneath you, just enough to press his hardness firmly against your core. The sound that escaped your lips this time was a mix of surprise and need, and it only made his hold tighten.

“You feel that?” he growled, his lips brushing your ear again, the rasp of his voice sending waves of heat through you. “That’s what you do to me, baby. You keep teasin’ me, and I’m gonna give you exactly what you’re askin’ for.”

Before you could respond, his grip on your neck shifted slightly, firm but careful, his other hand trailing up from your waist. “Now let’s see what you’ve been hidin’ from me here, huh?” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous in your ear.

His fingers found the lace of your bra, tugging it down until your breasts spilled free. The sound that rumbled from his chest was almost feral, a deep growl that made heat pool low in your belly. He cupped one of your breasts in his hand, the warmth of his palm making you arch into his touch. His thumb brushed over your nipple, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through you before he pinched and rolled it between his fingers.

You gasped, your back arching further into him, but he wasn’t done. He brought the same hand to your other breast, the calloused pads of his fingers rough against your sensitive skin. He squeezed gently, then let his palm deliver a quick, stinging slap that made you jolt in his lap.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, the sound barely audible over the pounding of your heart. The sting melted into warmth, the sensation sharp and thrilling, and you couldn’t help but roll your hips harder against him, desperate for more.

Joel’s lips found the side of your neck, brushing hot, open-mouthed kisses against your skin. “That’s it,” he growled, his voice rough with need as his hands continued to explore you, alternating between firm, teasing squeezes and sharp, delicious slaps. “Let me hear those pretty noises. Don’t hold back now.”

The way he rolled and teased your nipples made your head tip back against his shoulder, a soft moan spilling from your lips as his mouth found the curve of your neck. His teeth scraped lightly against your skin, making your nerves spark, your hips bucking in his lap.

“You’re so damn sensitive,” he rasped against your neck, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. His hands trailed lower, brushing over your ribs, fingertips grazing your stomach as they worked their way to the waistband of your panties. “Been drivin’ me crazy all night, wearin’ this...all for me, huh?”

You could only nod, your voice caught somewhere between a gasp and a plea. Joel chuckled low in your ear, the sound rough and teasing, as he hooked his thumbs under the delicate lace and tugged it downward, inch by inch, exposing you to the cool air and his burning gaze.

“Use your words pretty girl,” he muttered, his voice full of reverence and something darker, more primal. He shifted beneath you, one hand returning to your waist to hold you steady as the other worked the panties down past your thighs.

“All yours, Joel. I’m yours.” you breathed, hips rolling as his hands worked the fabric slip past your knees, pooling on the floor as his hands returned to your bare skin. He traced the curve of your thighs and pulled them open wider across his lap. The heat of him pressed against your core, and the rough denim only heightened the aching need coursing through you.

“Joel,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you gripped his forearms, trying to steady yourself.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he murmured, his hands steady and warm as they explored the newly exposed skin. His fingers slid up your inner thighs, deliberate and slow, brushing so close to where you needed him most but never quite touching. The tease was unbearable, your hips shifting instinctively to chase his touch.

“Not so fast,” he growled, his grip tightening on your thighs to hold you still. “You wanted to take your time, didn’t you? You’re gonna sit here and feel every second of this.”

His words made your breath hitch, the commanding edge in his voice sending another wave of heat pooling low in your belly. His hands trailed higher, his fingertips brushing just shy of your center, so close you could feel the heat of his touch but not the pressure you craved.

“Please,” you whimpered, arching back against him, your body practically trembling in his grasp.

“Patience, darlin’,” he said, his lips brushing against your ear again, his voice nothing more than a rough whisper. “I’m gonna take my time with you. Gonna make sure you feel all of it.”

Joel’s hands finally slid higher, his rough fingertips ghosting over the slick heat between your thighs. The barest touch sent a shiver through you, your body instinctively arching into him, desperate for more. He hummed low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your neck as his lips brushed over your skin.

“So wet for me,” he murmured, his voice a gravelly whisper. His fingers parted your lips slowly, exploring with a deliberate tenderness that made all the breath in your lungs tighten. “Could feel this pussy on me the whole time. Makin’ a mess of me.”

You whimpered, your hands gripping his forearms as his touch grew more confident, circling your most sensitive spot with slow, teasing precision. The pressure was just enough to send sparks shooting through you, your hips rocking into his hand as your breath hitched.

“Easy now, baby” he growled, his other arm tightening around your waist to hold you steady against him. “Daddy’s gon’ take good care of ya.”

He pressed a finger inside you, slow and deliberate, his thick, calloused touch stretching you just enough to make your head fall back against his shoulder. A low moan escaped your lips, your body trembling as he began to move, each stroke deliberate and unhurried.

“Look at you,” he muttered, his voice full of awe as he watched the way you writhed in his lap. “So beautiful, baby. You feel how good you’re takin’ me?”

You nodded, your words lost to the pleasure building deep inside you. He added another finger, the stretch making your toes curl as his pace quickened just slightly. His thumb brushed against your clit with every stroke, drawing a strangled moan from your throat as the tension in your belly coiled tighter.

Joel’s lips found the shell of your ear, his breath hot and heavy. “That’s it,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire. “Let go, darlin’. Let me feel this pretty pussy,”

His words sent you over the edge, the pressure finally snapping as your body tensed, waves of pleasure crashing through you. You cried out his name, your hands clutching at his arms as he worked you through it, his fingers moving steadily, drawing out every last ounce of pleasure until you were left trembling in his lap, boneless and breathless.

He finally slowed, his movements gentle as he eased his fingers from you, his arm still holding you close. He pressed a soft kiss to the side of your neck, his voice softer now but no less heated. “Good girl,” he murmured, his tone full of pride and affection.

Joel’s lips lingered on your neck, his breath still warm against your skin as his hand slid back to your waist, grounding you. The tension between you was electric, your body still trembling in the aftermath of his touch, but the need hadn’t faded—it had only sharpened.

You shifted in his lap, the friction of his jeans against your sensitive skin making you gasp softly. His grip tightened on your hips, steadying you as his lips brushed your ear. “What’re you doin’, darlin’?” he murmured, though his voice was rough, and his hips twitched up into you despite the question.

You turned slightly, your lips curling into a teasing smile as you met his dark, hungry gaze. “Taking care of you now,” you whispered, your hands finding his chest as you pushed yourself upright.

Joel’s eyes followed your every movement as you reached for the button of his jeans, your fingers working with deliberate slowness, savoring the way his jaw clenched and his chest heaved beneath your touch. When you finally slid the zipper down, the strained fabric gave way, and you couldn’t help the way you always were caught by surprise as his thick hardness sprang free, hot and heavy in your hand.

He groaned low in his throat as you wrapped your fingers around him, giving him a slow stroke that had his head tipping back against the chair. “Christ,” he muttered, his hands gripping your thighs, his voice rough and unsteady. “You’re gonna kill me, baby.”

You smiled, a mix of nerves and confidence swirling in your chest as you lifted yourself onto your knees, positioning yourself over him. His hands moved instinctively to your hips, guiding you, steadying you as you lined yourself up. The heat of him pressed against you, and you bit your lip, slowly sinking down until he filled you completely. You’d never get used to his size, the sheer stretch of him.

Both of you let out matching groans, the sensation overwhelming as you adjusted to him. Joel’s hands tightened on your hips, his grip firm but reverent, as though he was trying to hold himself back from taking every inch he wanted.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasped, his voice low and wrecked. “Always so fuckin’ good for me. So tight.”

You braced your hands on his chest, your breath hitching as you began to move. Slowly at first, rocking your hips in a rhythm that had his fingers digging into your skin. The way he stretched and filled you sent shivers through your body, and you couldn’t help the soft moans that spilled from your lips.

Joel’s eyes were locked on you, dark and intense as he watched every roll of your hips. You leaned forward, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, “Feel good, daddy?”

“Fuck yes,” he growled, his hips bucking up to meet your movements. “Don’t stop, baby. Don’t you fuckin’ stop.”

You didn’t. You rode him harder, the friction and fullness building to a crescendo that had your breath coming in ragged gasps. Joel was unraveling beneath you, his groans and growls spurring you on as you chased the pleasure coiling tight in your belly.

His hands slid from your hips, one trailing up your back to steady you, while the other moved with purpose, his palm curling around the side of your neck. The pressure was firm, his fingers pressing into your skin just enough to make your breath catch, the sensation sending a sharp jolt of heat straight through you, making you clench around him.

“Fuck,” you gasped, your movements faltering for just a moment before the delicious contrast between his grip and the fullness of him inside you pushed you further. Joel’s dark eyes burned into yours, his expression one of pure control, his lips curling in a low growl.

“You like that, huh?” he rasped, his voice rough and commanding as his thumb brushed lightly over your throat. “Your pussy sure seems to like it, hunny–clenching around me like a fuckin’ vice with my hand around your pretty throat.”

You whimpered, nodding as the tension in your body coiled tighter. His grip tightened slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to remind you of his strength, enough to make you feel completely at his mercy.

“That’s it,” Joel murmured, his hips bucking up into you as you moved faster, harder, chasing the fire building between you. “Take what you need, baby. Let me hear you.”

The intensity of his hand on your neck, the way he filled you completely with every thrust, and the heat of his gaze locking you in place—all of it came together in a rush of overwhelming pleasure. The tension snapped, and you cried out his name, your body trembling as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over you.

Joel groaned, his own release hitting him as your body clenched around him. His hand remained on your neck, holding you steady as his other hand gripped your hip, anchoring you to him. His voice was low and broken as he growled your name, his body shuddering beneath yours.

As the last tremors faded, his grip softened, the hand around your neck sliding up to cradle your face. His thumb brushed tenderly over your cheek, a stark contrast to the raw passion of moments before. You collapsed against him, your breaths uneven, your heart still racing as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled with only the sound of your ragged breathing and the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear.

Then you tilted your head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone before murmuring, “So, a good birthday then?”

His chest rumbled with a quiet laugh, his hand cupping the back of your head as he kissed your temple. “Best damn birthday I’ve ever had, darlin’.”

[kedsandtubesocks]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE write more MLB Professional Joel !!! It was such a good read and it makes me want more

You're one of the very few who write really fun AU's for him, and it has me absolutely addicted

Dear anon thanks so much I appreciate you!! And since you asked so nicely… let’s enjoy some more baseball Joel yeah?

—

Game Changer - Spring Training

MLB pitcher!Joel Miller x F!Reader

warnings: 18+ only dbf!Joel, allusions to smut, secret relationship things, brief moments of panic

word count: 1.2k

Arizona’s desert holds a surprising charm to it. You’re even more amused that the city’s name fits it so well.

Surprise, Arizona is where the Texas Rangers would be staying for spring training.

You managed to get ahead of all the work you can, moved a few things around schedule wise, then came up with an easy lie for your parents when they asked curious as to why you were heading to Arizona for a four day weekend.

Because the reason why you’re here walks out from the clubhouse to warm up looking handsome as ever in his training camp uniform.

“Joel! Joel!” The crowd erupts in cheers seeing him, and a wide smile breaks over your face.

You’re thankful fans are able to watch from the fencing around the field. It’s heartwarming and endearing seeing how many people are here to watch the team train. Now you suppose you’re one of those devoted baseball fans now, or mainly, just a Joel fan.

He’s in top form today. Seeing his body crouch up in the windup then fling the ball with such force never ceases to impress you, keep you in awe of the man you adore so much.

It boggles your mind a bit realizing a new season is starting. Because, in theory, you’re coming up on a year of being with Joel.

One of the outfielder’s, Joel’s closest friend on the team, spots you and happily waves making you grin. A lot of the team recognizes you now. They know you’re with Joel, and you’ve even tagged along to a few team dinners now.

Even Ellie and Sarah know about you and him.

Of course the last to not know, the ones still kept in the dark, are your parents… specifically your dad.

Your mom, with her scary sixth sense, has noticed something is up. Accidentally you’ve let it slip you’re seeing someone casually. But that’s the extent of it.

Because you wouldn’t call traveling across states to be with Joel casual. Especially when he paid for your flight ticket, even booked your hotel room to make sure you were comfortable and close to the ranch.

One day, you’ll be brave and tell them. Then hope your dad doesn’t try to kill you or Joel. But now’s not the time to think about that.

The weather is beautiful today. You soak in the sun and soft breeze, enjoying watching Joel Miller be the outlaw cowboy pitcher he is. His curveball is getting better.

There’s a new rookie reliever pitcher the Rangers drafted. Joel immediately has stepped into fatherly parental mode showing different ways to grip the ball. The kid hangs off his every word and follows Joel around like a puppy. It’s rather cute.

Cheers come off to the side of the fence. You glance over to see someone with a phone telling everyone to wave, urging them to chant ‘Let’s Go Rangers!’

Ignoring it, you return to watching Joel.

Eventually lunch break arrives. Joel sends you a text urging you to go relax at the hotel.

Might be a long day at practice baby go enjoy the room

You’ve been wanting to get some reading done, and lounging on the gorgeous hotel room balcony does seem tempting.

Appreciating that Joel understands, you head back to the hotel.

You’re also thankful housekeeping came by to fix the beds. Your face feels like it’s on fire just thinking of the mess you and Joel left the room in this morning.

It’s been a month since you last physically saw him. The way you and him fucked felt raw, tasting of something primal, like you were trying to consume each other for the lost time.

Now seeing a few of Joel’s things here makes your heart melt. His jacket slung on the chair, his toothbrush thrown against yours, his iPad charging on the table.

He’s still mainly staying at the hotel with the team, but you’re grateful he’s snuck away to stay here for a few nights already.

Curling up with your book on the hotel balcony with the lovely Arizona weather creates a dreamy afternoon you happily sink into.

Then your phone chimes off. A text from your mom.

It’s a picture from Instagram.

Specifically the Texas Ranger’s Instagram.

And you’re in the background clear as day, easy to spot.

So…what are you doing at spring training?

Your heart drops. Terror floods into you an unseating wave that draws you under.

Everything becomes muffled and heightened all at once.

Immediately a lie conjures itself up so fast as you text back.

Yeah, Alex had work to do and thought I’d swing by to check out the team and say hi to Joel

Alex, your best friend, thankfully told you to use her as a lie.

Your mom doesn’t reply back for a while, and your stare in pure dreaded silence waiting to see any sign of life.

The chime comes, and your hands shake checking your phone.

Ok have fun

The reply is simple, diffuses the situation. Yet it doesn’t stop the fear pumping through you.

Joel’s contact brings your phone to life, and you don’t know if that’s better or worse.

“Hi, honey.” He greets casual and exhausted. “Done for the day, so I’m headin’ back. Y’wanna start talkin’ dinner?”

“I think my parents know about us.” You blurt.

“Wait, what?” His voice trips over itself.

He urges you to take a breath and tell him everything.

So you do. You tell him about the Instagram photo, the text…

He sighs weary, deeply tired, and you feel guilty now for rushing him with this.

“I’m sorry.” You quickly scramble out.

You’re sorry for being here, sorry for maybe accidentally revealing yourself to your parents, for getting so worked up over this -

Joel says your name, calm and steady.

The door clicks with the room key. Before you realize it, your favorite pitcher walks through the door.

Immediately you rush towards him. In a few steps he’s gathering you in his warm arms, and nothing else matters.

In this carved out space, it’s just him and you holding each other tight.

“I don’t think ya need to worry, honey.” He reassures, rubbing your back softly. “If they knew, ‘specially if your dad knew, no doubt they’d be fuckin’ calling me already.”

That’s true.

A part of you is reassured, yet…

Being in his arms, you realize this is where you want your future.

And something deep inside now aches to have your parents find out. You want to stop hiding Joel, want to stop hiding this. You aren’t ashamed of him. If anything, you’re unbelievably proud of him and want to keep him in your life for as long as you can.

A dangerous thought flutters in your mind. Maybe you should call your mom back and tell her the truth.

“When you get nervous for a game,” you suddenly ask Joel. “How do you get over it?”

A soft hum, a rumble of a deep thought radiates from his warm chest, and it's strangely soothing.

“Guess once I get on the mound, it all just melts away. Get reminded of why I do this, why it’s all worth it. Nerves and all.” He mutters.

You pull away from Joel’s embrace for a moment to glance at him. He’s still sweaty from practice and smells vaguely of sunlight and the field’s dust. But he’s beautiful, and you want him to be yours in every way.

He matters in so many ways it feels like your world now is molded to him; you can’t think of a day without him.

You place a soft kiss on his lips and realize how he’s worth the nerves and all.

Maybe even more than that.

So you think… it might be time for you to go up to bat for your pitcher.

[mothandpidgeon]

The Outlaws (outlaw!Joel Miller x f!reader) - Chapter 4

Moth's Masterlist - follow @mothandpidgeon-updates an turn on notifications so stay updated with my fics!

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: Outlaw!Joel Miller x f!reader

rating: E (18+ MDNI)

wc: 3.2k

summary: Wanted for murder with a bounty on your head, your only hope of escaping the Pinkerton detectives is an outlaw named Joel Miller and his sidekick Ellie. But Joel has other plans for you.

tags: old west au, enemies to lovers, grumpy Joel, handcuffed together, only one bed, Tommy and Maria, morally grey characters, reader has backstory, masturbation, hand job, spitting, the Confederacy?, moth never uses y/n

authors note: I'm very happy to be coming back to these two after a long break. I have the rest of this fic outlined so maybe there will be more soon? Big big thanks for @moonlitbirdie and @schnarfer for betaing and letting me yap about this way more than is necessary. And thank you to YOU for reading. If you're enjoying it, I'd love to hear from you because I know this isn't super popular but it's my favorite.

Joel barely sleeps that night. 

The two of you manage not to cuddle up in the small bed but the chain between you means you move in tandem. Every so often, you pull Joel’s wrist towards you, inviting his fingers to brush your plush thighs. When he pulls back and your arm is yanked in his direction, you roll over with a sleepy moan and his mind is sent reeling. 

You’re doing it purposely, he’s sure of it, trying to get a rise out of him even as you sleep. Well, you’ve succeeded, he supposes. The sun begins to illuminate the room in the early hours of the morning and he’s painfully hard. 

He hasn’t been with a woman since Tess. With Ellie in tow, there’s no opportunity to visit the brothels in Jackson. He knows he wouldn’t even if he were on his own. A man like him doesn’t deserve such luxuries as pleasure. 

He punches his pillow for the hundredth time then tugs on his hair until the roots sting. Sleep eludes him as he spends half the night with one eye open, the other half badgered by dreams— your eyes, the weight of you against him, that little strip tease you gave him. Joel palms at the stiff bulge over the wooly fabric of his union suit. He resents you for driving him to it. The combination of the insistent need and his frustration has his mind racing with lewd fantasies, all the ways he’d ruin you. On your knees putting that mouth to good use.  He wants you to fight, to claw at him and pound your fists against his chest. Wants you to call him a rotten bastard as he spears into you with his cock.

You’re still snoring beside him but he glances in your direction to make sure you’re still deep asleep. The sight that greets him has him throbbing. The thin light of dawn touches your skin, highlighting the crests of your curves. Arranged as you are, the neckline of your chemise gapes away from your chest revealing your breast and pebbled nipple. His breath catches, hand reflexively squeezing at his length. 

He doesn’t dare to breathe again until he’s freed himself from his underclothes and spit into his fist. His lower belly tightens as he works at his cock with careful strokes. It's torturously slow but if he moves faster, he might rattle the chain and wake you. The teasing pulls are enough, though. He doesn’t need much more than that with the desperation he’s endured all night. 

He fists his other hand in the sheets, willing it not to cup your breast. It’s so tantalizingly close he can practically feel the warmth coming off of your skin. Instead, he closes his eyes and imagines the feel of it— the supple give of your flesh, the bud of your nipple. 

The pace of his strokes increases as he sinks deeper into the fantasy. Raking your delicate skin with his teeth, sucking on your neck. Leaving marks. Giving you no mercy like the brute he is.  

Just as he’s beginning to twitch, thighs trembling, his wrist is snapped away. He snarls at the loss of pressure, the slap of his leaking cock against his belly as it springs from his grasp. His eyes snap open and you’re there, the chain in your grip, holding him at bay.

He stares at you in shock, his face flushing with shame and fear. It’s bad enough to be caught, quite literally, with his dick in his hand, but this is a decidedly vulnerable position. There’s no telling what you’ll do to get your freedom. Frozen, Joel waits for you to make a move, cursing himself for letting his desire get the best of him.

You study him with an inscrutable expression. Amusement ticks at the corner of your lips but your pupils are blown wide and your chest moves with shallow breaths. You keep the chain pulled tight but the fingers of your other hand close around his cock. It jumps as he hisses at your touch. You squeeze and give a stroke so long and slow, it forces all the air from Joel’s lungs.The sight of the tip of your tongue darting over your bottom lip nearly breaks him and then you release a thick froth of spit. It rolls down his length, warm and slick, pooling at your fist, an obscene vision.

He tells himself he’s powerless, trapped by the chain and pinned down by your stare, but he doesn’t want you to stop. It’s too good to fight. He melts under your touch, his eyes falling shut as you work at him. 

You’re silent the entire time, the room quiet save for his sharp breaths and the sound of flesh against slick flesh. His helpless hand clenches into a fist as you coil him into madness, the bite of the cuff around his wrist an exquisite pain. 

It builds quickly to an explosion of need and bliss as violent as a gunshot. His hips jump and toes curl and you keep milking him until he’s completely spent. 

Regaining his breath, Joel opens his eyes to find he’s coated your hand with his spend. The sight, a salacious mark on you, makes his softening length twinge. You lean forward, a smug smile on your lips. 

“You still gonna turn me over to the sheriff?” you taunt.

Your tongue runs over the length of your index finger, swiping up the pearlescent release. Joel fights to keep a groan contained.

“You gonna let me hang?”

You put your middle finger between your lips and hollow your cheeks as you suck. The wet squelch of your swallow makes him dizzy. Intrigued by your unabashed filth, he fights an urge to kiss you, to taste himself in your mouth and claim even more of you but the haze begins to lift. 

He remembers himself, realizes where he is and why he’s here in bed with you, that he’s let you get the upper hand. Suddenly, you feel too close. The room is too small, the smell of lavender choking him. He pulls his wrist back into his chest and sits up, turning away. You scoff quietly as he fixes the buttons on his underclothes.

You’re all contradictions. Sharp tongue, soft curves. Quick witted, patiently waiting for your chance to bolt. Infuriating, intoxicating. You’re not afraid of him, either. Most people are. Even grown men shake in their boots around him. It throws Joel kilter. 

He glances back in your direction, to see you wiping the remnants of him onto the bed sheet. Guilt and disgust tangle in his chest. He’s denied himself for so long, only to lose his senses over a pretty girl. One that’s all too happy to make him squirm, to use his desire against him. 

He has to get out of this room before the walls close in on him.

The first floor of The Boot smells like bacon and coffee. In the parlor, the passengers of the stage coach finish their meal, nothing but biscuit crumbs left on their plates. Tommy carries a copper kettle to the table Ellie’s claimed as she wipes sleep from her eyes.

“I’m so hungry I could eat a whole stack of flapjacks,” you say, seating yourself beside her on the bench. “How ‘bout you?” 

Joel ignores you, looking everywhere but your direction.

“I’m always hungry,” Ellie tells you, already clutching her knife and fork in her fists.

“No flapjacks but we got eggs,” Tommy says. 

“How about that,” you say. “I got woken up by an old rooster.”

Joel grinds his molars. He can feel you radiating with glee across the table. 

”That right?” Tommy asks. He’s got a confused half-smile on his face. “I didn’t hear him.”

When the food is served, you take each bite of food into your mouth slowly, wrapping your lips around your fork suggestively and moaning at the taste. All the while, you keep your eyes on Joel. It’s an absolutely silly little performance and yet it makes the back of his neck hot. His mind conjures up the way you licked your fingers clean of him and he’s practically throbbing again. 

He stands up while he still can.  

“Keep your eye on her,” he instructs Ellie and shuffles off across the room to where Tommy wipes down the stage party’s abandoned table. 

“So, what? You’re a bounty hunter now?” Tommy asks. He puts an enamel mug in front of his brother and pours him a fresh cup of coffee.

“Course not,” Joel says, watching the dark liquid. Coffee always gets him back to rights.

“Then what’re you doing with her?” Tommy nods towards you. 

Joel can’t help but follow his gaze and finds that you’re looking right at him. Your eyes strike him, one brow arched, and it feels like you’ve caught him all over again. He pulls his eyes away as quickly as he can. 

“Making ten thousand dollars,” Joel says. He’s not sure why it sounds like he’s lying but it does.“Place is shaping up nice,” he changes the subject. He looks around the room, trying to make the ratty armchair and rusty spittoon feel as captivating as your face.

“Yeah. Think it is. The stairs could use a little work and the roof was leaking something awful when the rain came through. But we’re getting on,” Tommy explains. Pride beams from his face. 

Joel never blamed his brother for leaving the life but that didn’t mean he thought it would end well. He looked after Tommy most of his life in one way or another– after their father died, giving him a job on the ranch. He’d even tried to talk him out of joining up and going off to war. Tommy was hardworking and strong and genuine. One thing he wasn’t– independent. 

That’s why he’d gone along with Joel when he turned to crime. It had started out of desperation. Joel needed money and he needed it fast. But then he’d lost everything– his home, his livelihood, Sarah. It didn’t feel like there was much point in doing anything other than stealing. He didn’t give a damn about the money, would rather set a match to it before he let those train men have a cent.

They’d been good at robbing trains and stagecoaches. The two of them had stashed away enough that Joel could’ve bought two ranches by now but he didn’t see the point in settling down now that he was alone.

Joel figured it was just a matter of time before Tommy came back to him but he’d made a nice little life for himself. He’d never say that out loud, give Tommy a big head, but, begrudgingly he’s happy for him.

“Listen, I ain’t just here for your hospitality. I’ve got something I’m working on,” Joel says, shifting his weight awkwardly. 

Tommy’s smile fades. 

“C’mon. Don’t ask me to do that,” he says. 

Joel sighs. 

“I’ve told you. I don’t want to do anymore robbing and stealing.”

“Look I ain’t asking you to do anything but listen,” he says. 

Tommy shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

“It’s Cartwright,” Joel tells him. The name makes his chest ache, his mouth coated with bitterness at the words. He’s forced to envision the face the man that he hates. The only other time he feels as much disgust is when he’s looking in a mirror. 

His brother’s lips part and he exhales slowly, the meaning of Joel’s words hitting him heavily. Joel’s wasn’t the only life rocked by David Cartwright. “You sure?”

Joel nods. Tommy drags a hand over his mouth and Joel can see that his mind is racing.

“Alright,” he finally says in a hushed tone. “Not now. Maria’ll be doing laundry tomorrow. She’ll be out back all day. We’ll talk then.”

It’s too difficult to thank Tommy with the lump that’s formed in his throat so he gives a curt nod. He tries to erase Cartwright’s image from his mind but all he sees is Sarah and it cut even deeper.

Ellie scrapes the remnants of Joel’s breakfast onto her own plate.

She and Joel make an odd pair. For all of Joel’s stoicism, Ellie’s a firebrand, full of energy and enthusiasm. Considering the way he grumbles at just about every word that comes out of your mouth, why he chooses to keep this kid around is a mystery.

He’s not entirely obscure, though. He’s just a man when it comes down to it. You crack a smile at the memory of him crumbling beneath your touch.

You’ve done worse for lesser rewards. Life’s been about survival for you, doing what you needed to to get by. Men, oftentimes, were the easiest way to get those things.

You’d awoken to the sound of Joel’s jagged breaths, the soft clinking of the iron chain. You knew he was thinking about you as he fisted his cock. You’d seen that hungry look in his eye as you undressed for him. 

This was your chance to grab him by the balls and demand your freedom but waking up after being surrounded by him, the musky scent and his big arms cradling you all night, your curiosity got the best of you. He’d become a man rendered wild. Neck taught, teeth bared, nostrils flaring. Completely unaware of anything but his own pleasure. You needed to know what it would look like when he fell apart. 

What you hadn’t expected was how it would change him. How it smoothed the lines in his forehead when he finished. And you had no idea that the choked sound he made would wash you with heat. You didn’t think you’d be pressing your thighs together. That hadn’t happened before. 

“So what did you do to get that bounty? I won’t tell him,” Ellie says. 

You tear your thoughts away from that morning. It’s not helping your cause getting all hot and bothered for your captor. 

“Welp, my brother stole a hundred dollars from me. So I killed him,” you tell her. 

“That’s bullshit,” she says. 

You smile. She’s a smart kid and she’s got a mouth on her. Reminds you a bit of yourself back in the day. Except, of course, you were busy batting your eyes at boys. You got into your fair share of trouble but that was amateur compared to what Ellie’s accomplished. 

She’s a kindred spirit so you’d like to tell her. Problem is, it hurts too much. And you don't think you can adequately describe just how green Nell’s eyes were. And if she doesn’t know that, then how could the rest of it make any sense? 

“Listen,” you offer, “how’s about I tell you if you’ll tell me something?”

She nods eagerly. 

You look at Joel, deep in conversation with his brother. He’s well out of earshot and preoccupied. You lean forward on the table, eyes sliding to Ellie. 

“Who’s Sarah?” you ask. 

You’ve been wondering about her. She must be something special if she haunts Joel’s dreams and that might give you some clue to what makes him tick. 

Ellie’s face changes. Her eyes dart over to him and then away. The past three days she’s filled every moment with chatter and suddenly she’s tongue tied. 

“Joel doesn’t like to talk about her,” she says.  

You don’t say anything, just give her silence to fill with an answer. Her lips twist, brow knit in thought. You’ve got ideas about who this Sarah might be. A lover, a wife. You’re dying to know if you’re on the mark. Ellie swallows and you think she’s just about ready to tell you.

“I could use your help in the kitchen,” you hear Maria say. You’re in such focused suspense it’s as if she’s appeared as if out of thin air. 

You almost swear aloud but you plaster a big smile on your face while you think about throttling Maria for snatching this delicate moment away.

“Why certainly,” you say. You stand from your seat. As much as you want to unlock the mysteries of Joel Miller, getting out of this parlor and into Maria’s good graces is probably an easier route to escape. 

“I’m watching her,” Ellie announces. 

Maria sighs at Ellie. “Then you can come too. ‘Bout time you lend a hand here.”

The only kitchen work Maria entrusts to you is doing the washing up. When you said you knew how to cook, that wasn’t entirely true. Nell taught you how to cook one or two dishes but you’d never been practiced in the kitchen. Dishes, though, you’ve had plenty of experience with.

Ellie sits on a table, legs wide as she peels potatoes with her knife, sighing periodically so that everyone knows she’s bored. Maria ignores this and hums to herself as she chops carrots.

She’s wearing a simple brooch at her collar, a golden hoop embossed with flowers. It reminds you of another brooch, the emerald one you stole out of Mrs. Coxcombe’s jewelry box. You try to recall Nell’s face when you presented it to her. She’d laughed and said “You’re bold as brass,” and the words danced in her pretty accent. That’s when you realized the stone really didn’t shimmer the same as her eyes. 

It’s hard to remember her the way she was before that last time, when she looked at you with horror and disgust. That’s all you see anymore. You pull yourself from the thought before it stings. 

“Now, Miss Maria, I’m mighty curious how a genteel lady such as yourself ended up married to a member of an outlaw gang,” you say, dunking one of the breakfast plates into the hot water. 

Ellie guffaws when you refer to Maria as ‘genteel.’ Maybe you’re laying it on a little thick. 

“Now I can understand,” you continue. “He’s a good looker. But you strike me as sensible enough not to get swept off your feet by a pretty face.” 

Maria smiles softly.

“He’s a good man,” she says, pushing the onions aside and starting on a big, orange yam. “He’s loyal and brave. And he makes me laugh. He’s just been a little misled.” 

Ellie scoffs angrily.

“Joel never made him do anything,” she says. “I would know.” 

Maria sighs. “Joel’s his older brother. Tommy looks up to him.” 

“Did Joel make him join up with the rebels?” Ellie snipes. 

Your eyebrows raise. With his affable smile, it’s hard to imagine Tommy as a soldier let alone in a Confederate uniform.

“Don’t that make the two of you even more peculiar,” you say. 

Maria schools her expression and wipes her hands on her linen apron.

“Tommy’s made mistakes in his time,” she says evenly. “When you get older, you begin to have regrets.” 

You have a feeling these two have clashed over this before— Ellie with the sweet arrogance of youth, Maria understanding all the shades of gray the world presents. Their little squabble doesn’t really interest you. You keep them sniping at each other as you take a fork out of the wash basin’s murky water. The two of them are so busy with their argument, neither notice you drop it to the floor and tuck it under your skirts.

”We’ve all made mistakes,” you say. “I’ve made plenty myself. But we all deserve a second chance, don’t we?”

It seems neither of them can argue with that. Ellie tilts her head to the side, allowing her agreement. Maria nods along sagely. 

You’ve gone through a hundred second chances but right now, you just need one more.

-

Chapter 5

Thanks for reading! My asks are always open!

[romana-after-dark]

Dead Dove December 2023 Masterlist

Hello everyone!

So sorry it took forever to get this out, but it took me 5ever to read through these fics bc I was expresso depresso and working a lot LMFAOOOOOOO

Anyway, THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH FOR EVERYONE ENTRIES!!! I adore you so so so so much. I am SO HAPPY with how this worked out and the amount of response! I hope to hold another event this March with @for-a-longlongtime at @triplefrontier-anniversary for the TF anniversary over at my main account @romanarose, and an event in June for pride, so if those interest you, follow my main page or this one, or @romana-updates

NOTE: I was unorganized so if I forgot someone's fic, IT WAS NOT ON PURPOSE. I know right now there discourse right now the Pedro fandom specifically, about different people not liking others or small writers or big writers ETC, but I want you to know no one was left out on purpose!

Note 2: If I put your fic here but forgot to reblog LET ME KNOW! I want to make sure everyone gets a chance to shine.

Without further ado, the fics and art!

ALL OF THESE ARE DARK SO SOME DEGREE FROM CNC, DUB CON, TO VIOLENT NON CON! HEAD WARNINGS!

The Last of Us

The Burglary by @aurorawritestoescape and @milla-frenchy: Two men break into your house and take more than just your valuables.

Fight Club by @anama-cara : Post outbreak set in the Boston QZ. You decide to go against Joel in an underground QZ fight club for some extra coin. Joel doesn't take kindly to the competition and decides to punish you in his own special way.

Deja Vu by @milla-frenchy : After a bad experience with a former boyfriend, you meet Joel who makes you trust him fully in the bedroom

Silent Night by @kewwrites : Despite the way he always acted around you, you find it hard to say no to Sarah when she invites you home to her dad's house for the holidays. Surely nothing would happen while she's with you.

Training Day by @koshkamartell : Set in AU, no outbreak. You get more than you bargained for after trying to make Joel jealous.

Code Broken by @auteurdelabre : You only wanted to pull a silly prank on your neighbor, Joel. Who could have seen it ending up like this?

The Art of Breaking by @corazondebeskar-reads : Your meeting is happenstance, but everything that follows? Well, that’s all Joel. He just knows you’re going to be his perfect little toy. He just has to show you how.

Cry Harder by @romana-after-dark : While keeping you captive, Joel's sex drive is insatiable, and the sex seemed to be never ending. You tried to warm him you needed to use the bathroom... he didn't listen.

Nightmare Before Christmas by @katiexpunk : As an escort, you’ve found yourself in some pretty fucked up situations before. Years of experience have taught you to navigate such situations with a combination of tact and assertiveness. Most of the time the men who exude an air of sleaze shrivel back into the corner, embarrassed and limp dicked.  Most of the time.  Tonight is not one of those times.

Locket by @toxicanonymity : Dark!Reader dugs her friends hot dad Joel

Run, Rabbit by @justagalwhowrites : It was just over a year after the world ended that you were captured by Joel and Tommy Miller. They're harsh, they're cold and they're killers. But, as a nurse, you're a valuable person to have around and they're not the worst thing wandering the wasteland that was the United States. And there might be more to these men than meets the eye.

Godless by @javier-penas-wifexx420 : You work at a brothel that operates above a saloon in your town. Joel is the leader of a group of outlaws that come periodically to collect payment and wreak havoc. One visit, you catch Joel’s eye and he decides he has to have you.

Across the Spiderverse

After Dark by @runa-falls : He wants you. and he knows you need him.

Triple Frontier

Deep Seeded Issues by @djarinmuse: Summary: At an N.A (narcotics anonymous) meeting you recall a dark and embarrassing memory, not knowing the connection in the room.

My Blood Would Teach Me How to Love by @winniethewife : Santi finds you self harming, blood kink ensues.

Room's on Fire by @romana-after-dark : Cult AU, Pope, Frankie, Will and Ben are cult leaders and need a virgin to breed who will birth the savior: the Madonna. Initially honored to find redemption, the Madonna has to learn how to navigate all four men and a circle of other people at the house.

Goodnight, Princess by @melodygatesauthor : Your dad's best friend accidentally discovers that you're a sex worker. He tries to let it go, but it eats away at him until things go way too far.

The Card Counter

Bad Bet by @boredzillenial and art by @lunar-ghoulie4art : William beats you in a poker tournament, but you just can’t accept defeat, not yet…

Getting Whats Mine by @winniethewife

Lightening Face

Puppy by @darkuselesssomebody : In which the reader is a manipulative bitch - and basil snaps because of it

Mojave

Cruel Intentions by @hon3yboy : You're on a soul seeking journey, just another young, pretty, thing. All alone and stranded in the desert, ripe for the picking and ol' Jack has his eyes set on you.

Moon Kight

Death to Dignity by @juneknight : An intruder (Marc) breaks in to your apartment.

*************

I cannot thank you enough for your support and interaction for htis series!!!!! I had SUCH a good time reading all these, you are all so talented!!!

I hope to do more events soon as it's really helped me make some friends and get to know people here!!!!

Please remember to reblog these authors, and if you're tagged here, be sure to check out more! Lots of great content here!

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

open your fucking mouth

kinktober, day fourteen

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

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

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

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[baronessvonglitter]

Series:

Cherry, Cherry (no-outbreak AU!Joel x f!Reader) ~ 77.3K ~ It's the summer before college and you're sure you have your life figured out.. then you meet your new neighbor, single (hunky) dad Joel Miller...

One-shots:

America's Favorite Pastime (dbf!Joel x f!Reader) ~ 2.3K ~ your dad invites his best friend Joel over to watch the baseball game, with no clue that Joel's been sneaking around with you. Being a feisty little brat, you make a risky move while the three of you watch the game.

Bad Santa (sleazy mall Santa!Joel x fem!Reader) ~ 2.3K ~ Frantically seeking relief during the Christmas rush, the Santa at your local mall is the last person you'd expect to help.. and the only one who can.

Blue Hour (outlaw!Joel x f!Reader) ~ 2.8K ~ hitchhiking in the cruel Texas desert, you're picked up by a handsome stranger

Daddy Can Fix It (handyman!Joel x fem!plus size!Reader) ~ 5.4K ~ All the housewives in your neighborhood rave about the local handyman. And with very good reason.

Daddy Does Drilling (handyman!Joel x fem!plus size!Reader) -- based on an ask about "Daddy Can Fix It" ~ 1.3K ~ what happens when you and Joel blur the line between business and pleasure..

Halftime Show (Joel Miller, Javier Pena, Dave York, Frankie Morales, Marcus Moreno x sex worker! f!Reader) ~ 2.7K ~ you're an escort hired for a private Super Bowl party hosted by a mysterious client and his four friends

Holiday Heat (Joel x f!Reader) ~ 2.3K ~ Sharing a hotel room with a grumpy (and handsome) stranger while a storm makes travel inaccessible. What could possibly go wrong?

Like a Good Girl Should (mom's sleazy bf!Joel x f!Reader) ~ 2.7K ~ Your mom's sleazy new boyfriend Joel Miller is the last person you'd ever want to be alone with.. so how did you end up on his lap getting punished?

no strings to hold me down (fwb!Joel x f!Reader) ~ 1.8K ~ Enjoying the freedom of being friends with benefits with Joel Miller, a new emotion flares when you see him out with someone much younger.

Pretty Please (QZ!Joel x f!Reader) ~ 2.7K ~ your roommate Joel Miller is stressed out, and you offer a creative solution to ease that frustration

Quiet in the Woods (Joel Miller x f!Reader) ~ 1.9K ~ You've mouthed off to Joel one too many times. He finds a way to shut you up and release some frustration.

Sweet Summer Peach (dbf!Joel x f!Reader) ~ 3.7K ~ when your dad's best friend Joel catches you with his younger brother Tommy, it sets off a spark of jealousy that can only be tamed by showing you how a real man treats a woman.

[guess-my-next-obsession]

pairing: cowboy/frontier!joel miller x oc / unrequited tommy miller

rating: Explicit (Minors DNI)

summary: set in the early 1900’s in Texas, Joel Miller, a young, single father who just hung up his outlaw hat, meets Dorothea Mackey, a headstrong farmer’s daughter who instantly earns the attention of Joel’s younger, wilder brother, Tommy. Only issue is, she doesn’t want wild. She wants Joel.

joel masterlist | series playlist

Chapter One

Chapter Two*

Chapter Three (coming soon)

[bumblepony]

Tess Lives Fic Rec (No Outbreak Version)

Here are my Tess Lives fic recs in no particular order! These are all fics where no outbreak happens. I have a separate list of Tess in the QZ fics coming in the next couple of days.

Making Mirrors, a Tess/Joel Modern AU by @hypnotisedfireflies - A parallel universe to Drifters - the life lived had Cordyceps not conquered the world. - Mature

Tin Star, a Tess/Joel Western AU by @hypnotisedfireflies - The Sheriff and the Outlaw: sweethearts, bandits, soulmates. Magic horses. - Mature

Night Fever, a Tess/Joel 1970s AU by @hypnotisedfireflies - 1970s Bodyguard/Boss AU. - Mature

Of Artists and Architects by @emilylawsons - A Cordyceps-Free Tessjoel AU. - Mature

littlest digit, you've got the world by the handle by @ketchupchipsaregross - Ellie turns one surrounded by family.

smoke, ash, and strays by @ketchupchipsaregross - Joel (a firefighter) just wants to do his job and go home smelling like a campfire, it'd be great if the raccoon child from the alley would let him do that in peace.

dodors (and other birds) by @ketchupchipsaregross - How Tess and Joel accidentally restarted parenting in their 40s.

put it down in the pleasure of your company by Nyxierose on AO3 - "Normal functional people who live in mid-ring suburbs occasionally ask favors from people nearby and it’s not weird at all." Or, in which Tess gets into a lot more than she plans, but what else is new. - Mature

sweeter than sin by @raffinit - MODERN AU: Joel is a single dad of tweeny bopper Sarah. Tess is a single mom of teeny bopper Ellie. They've established a pretty comfy routine of being strictly fuck buddies. Until they're not. - Mature

the conjuring by @bradfordchens - Married demonologists Joel and Tess Miller hunt the supernatural together, all while raising two daughters.

we could walk forever, walkin' on the moon by @boopernatural - The one where Joel, Tess and Ellie take a family road trip to see a shuttle launch.

If I Had To Stay In A Haunted House With Anyone, It Would Always Be You by Steph_Puppet on AO3 - If someone had told Joel a few years back that he would end up traveling across the country with a self-proclaimed medium, sending ghosts back to where they belonged, he would not have believed them.

This section includes stories in which Tess is a Part of the story, but the story revolves more around a different pair's dynamic. So, Tess is more of a supporting cast member. These are still great stories, but Tess is just not a primary player.

a light in the dark of this danger (bookshop!au) by @two-birds-alone-together - The Bookshop AU! Joel Miller owns The Back Shelf, a bookstore located in Back Bay. He has no idea that his life is going to change when a girl walks into the store on an oppressively hot Boston day.

Ellie Williams' Guide to Teenage Rebellion by @simoncowellstits - Ellie is the president's Daughter, and Joel is her secret service agent.

Right Where We Belong by cauldron_zeta on AO3 - Frank has upheaved his life to move to almost the middle of nowhere. His closest neighbour isn't really a people person but Frank has always liked a challenge. - Mature

Compassionate Friends by @mildredellie - Ellie & Joel meet at a grief support group they were both forced to attend.

move so quickly (it can't catch me) by @howtotrainyourdoofus - Ellie navigating her first job as a professional ballet dancer and all the joys and strife that come with it.

Stubborn Love by @renegadeknight - Your favorite feral father-daughter duo repackaged, now with 95% less zombies and 99% more modern problems (golfing isn’t one of them)

world around you by @boopernatural - Joel's first date in two decades gets interrupted when his kid needs him.

To Have Loved Someone by Joels_revolver on AO3 - On her way back to Jackson, Ellie is teleport into a world where the cordyceps doesn't exist and Joel is very much alive.

At the end here, I am adding a few authors who have written so many good Tess Lives stories it's best to just go pursue their AO3 pages.

tessaservopoulos - @bradfordchens on Tumblr - Mature

Glitter_Gecko - @seethesunny on Tumblr - Mature

sillylily07 - Mature

Last, I am going to add my Tess Lives fics under the cut because I really am not trying to toot my own horn, but I want to have them on the list so I can have them all in one place.

Fate Makes Fools of Us All - Tess is Ellie's foster mom AU. - Mature

A Soul For Sale Or Rent - Ellie is a Ghost, and Joel is the only one who can see her. She needs his help to figure out what happened to her before it's too late.

In Another Time and Another Place - Joel and Tess meet at a bar in an Alternate Universe where the Cordyceps Outbreak never happens. - Mature

Ashes denote that Fire was - Behind Closed Doors - The Firefighter Joel Miller AU that only a few people asked for and I just had to write it. - Mature

Construction Corner with Joel Miller - Joel has his own TV Show on HGTV and Ellie is a foster kid who comes on as a helper and things progress from there.

And Baby Boy Makes Four - An AU where no apocalypse happens, and Joel has two kids with his ex-wife, Sarah, and a son called Junior.

[oonajaeadira]

For the Love of Fic: December 9

I'm doing my best to get through my massive reading list by the end of the year, so buckle up, fam, you're about to get served a buffet of fic. There's so many tasty morsels here, even Mama Flores has to appreciate this feast.

🪐 = Year of Themed Creation Fics!

.

FRANKIE MORALES

Sheer Desire by @the-blind-assassin-12 Okay so imagine you're Frankie's +1 to a Millerboy wedding. And there's dancing and yearning and flirting involved. And the knowledge that after the reception, you're going to have him all to yourself. Now add in black thigh-high nylons. And the desire to see them in his hands. And his desire to have those lacy tops pressed against his ears.... IT'S HOT LIKE FIRE. DID YOU THINK IT WOULD NOT BE. GO GET IT.

2023 Summer Kiss Prompt #2: Frankie Morales - Kiss in the Hammock by @something-tofightfor I mean, who doesn't want to be cuddled up in a hammock with Frankie? Who doesn't want those soft curls and soft lips and warm arms all pressed up against you?

2023 Summer Kiss Prompt #12: Frankie Morales - Kiss in the Dark / Break Up Kiss by @something-tofightfor A little angst and a lot of love are on display here. Frankie's here to show his responsible and protective side, and while there's plenty of hurt, he does it oh so softly and I'm just glad we are left with hope.

2023 Summer Kiss Prompt #14: Frankie Morales - “I miss you” Kiss / Angry Kiss by @something-tofightfor So remember that hope I just mentioned up there? Same pairing here, and the hope pays off. It's not without some real talk, but perhaps that's what makes the love even more deliciously sincere.

The day Frankie both loves and loathes the kitchen counter by @undercoverpena This is such a wonderful domestic Frankie POV piece. The way he wants to be better for reader, to provide more, to keep promises...the way he adores everything about her, including how she loves to bundle up in his clothes... Getting a peek inside a man who is sweet and loving and seeing the motivations there is such a treat. I really got swept up in this one.

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MARCUS PIKE

The Thing About Second Chances by @artemiseamoon 🪐 This is exquisite. The pain of walking away really hurt. But then, when they met again it is so masterfully done...there are all these little impulses of his, wanting to do everything for her that could easily be overbearing except that he's just so damn loveable and it's hard to watch two people who clearly live each other be denied. I'm not sure he can really change all that much, but I am really pulling for them. Sometimes a little time apart can really drive home how much you can miss someone. Beautiful.

The Moon in May - Full Moon by @hopeamarsu Alpha Marcus. and. sitting on lap. purring and. teasing and soft and spreading you open but requiring go slow. is a tasty treat. brain mush. purring chest at my back. yes please.

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JOEL MILLER

Something Wild and Unruly by @ezrasbirdie Okay, remember when I said that there was a fic that was so beautiful it made me want to quit writing? This is it, and I mean that as a high compliment. Like, I finished it and just put my head in my hands and stared out the window with a big smile on my face. It's outlaw!Joel and old west sex worker!reader with a heart of gold and a good attitude about what she does. It's got so so so much feels and yearning and softness and bathing and the ending is beautiful and full of hope...this fic is up all of my alleys and making all of my jams and is my entire life mood. It is my new official Fave Birdie Fic™️ and I need to sing that to the world.

Small Joys: Wheelbug by @keldabe-kriff 🪐 The whole point of Lyr's Small Joys series is just that--joys. So it seems antithetical for Ellie to have found a bug that's big and bitey and for Joel to freak out about and try to bat it away. But the joy part of it comes from reader's reaction--to the wonder at finding a wheelbug in nature where it wasn't expected--and Ellie's, who of course will always find wonder in something new. Simple and beautifully done.

Small Joys: Leaf Pile by @keldabe-kriff 🪐 Yes, the joy here is jumping in a leaf pile, but the joy I got from it was being able to hear Joel and Ellie perfectly in this. I also love the process Ellie gets to have in collecting the leaves and talking to a neighbor. It's really delightful.

The Sun Will Shine Again by @foli-vora I can't imagine dealing with crippling depression during the years after the outbreak, how hard and crippling it would be. And yet, I think I'd be able to manage if Joel was on my side, telling me he'd carry me as long as he could just to make sure I made it through. This is just such a beautiful piece. I want to curl up in it like a blanket.

Tangled Triumphs by @planet-marz1 I think my blood sugar levels hit an all-time high with this one and I ascended into the heavens. Joel learns to do Sarah's hair and it's so sweet and precious and I love them. Please read this. I need other people to share my squeals.

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JACK DANIELS

Cast Iron Sunshine part 1: Think I'll Call You Sunshine and part 2: Daisy by @blueeyesatnight Color me intrigued. We got ourselves a cocky cowboy in the wild west and a female doctor reader with some determination, sass, and willingness to sport a revolver, and I want more of that push and pull I'm sure is coming. The first meeting is just enough tingle to rub my hands together with glee. HE'S SUCH A SHIT. But then comes Daisy and she's here to lay some hearts open...

What Happens in Vegas.., ...Never Really Ends in Vegas, and Forever by @wildemaven A beautiful drabble trio that encompasses the realization that you've accidentally-in-Vegas married Jack, trying to quit him, and being unable to do so. Do yourself a favor, don't think about it too hard, and give into your cowboy.

Remember Me by @toomanystoriessolittletime This twisted my little heart and melted me in so many ways. When Jack is brought back and can't remember his girlfriend? Can I just cry a river? No worries though, the ending's a happy, hopeful one.

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DIETER BRAVO

Thought That I Was Dreaming by @haylzcyon Salty, spicy, and sweet all at once...this may just be my dream Dieter smut. I very much love a "did he really say???" but then the reason for her not asking was perfect. How does Haylz make the very filthiest filth the sweetest sweet?

Sleazy Santa by @morallyinept This what happens when Dieter's not an actor, just a tremendous sleezebag working as a mall Santa (he's respectful to the kids) and you can't stop wanting that scummy D and go bang dirty in the Grotto. There's candy cane action. It's real nasty. And written like a fkn gourmet meal. The sweatier Jett writes this slimeball, the more I want. I don't know how. It's like Christmas magic. Delicious.

Crawling Back to You by @prolix-yuy This fic is a feast and all of my favorite dishes are on the table. Monsterfkn. Demons. Blasphemy. Sexy contracts. Dieter being a menace. And softness????? This is smut and it is hot hot hot, but there's enough here that's sweetness and fondness that it's going straight to my forever faves list. HE RUINS HER SO NICELY. UGH!

Rendezvous in Reno by @theywhowriteandknowthings A Dieter with small-dick insecurities? Please and thank you, this is super cute. I'd love to get called out for describing his junk wrong in my fics and get a personal correction.

It's Never Over by @pennyserenade We don't get enough exes-to-friends fic around here, and this one is really nice. As much as I hope for them to connect again, I respect their love for each other and their need to just let themselves be special to each other. There were moments here that were bittersweet, but I really loved that about it.

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DIN DJARIN

Birfday--Din by @writeforfandoms Listen. Is it so wrong that I want to cook a nice breakyfast to show Din how much he's loved? Is that too much to ask? Thanks, Jen, for something soft and sweet.

Then We'll Find Out Together by @missredherring A lovely little drabble about settling down in a new home with Din, getting used to the slowness and softness and niceness of everything. And when reader can't sleep, the one thing that's familiar--Din himself--is what calms her down. A lovely little drabble that I would like to live in.

Bounty and Hunter by @never--doubt 🪐 A soulmate fic wherein soulmates can't hurt each other. How interesting then that one of you is being hunted...and makes quite a game out of it?

Significant by @softlyspector He's been calling you riduur for months and you still don't know what it means. Once you find out, that's when the fireworks start. I don't know that I've read dialogue for Din and his sweetheart that affected me the way the last two lines of this fic did...... *swoons*

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PERO TOVAR

Watercolor by @iamskyereads I mean, give a sellsword a bath and you may be in for trouble. But not this man. This man just needs a little care, and while he may not say much, he make good on all kindnesses. I would do anything to give this man a bath and have him speak kindly to me.

Date or Inseminate by @sirowsky Now listen. You're gonna have to read the warnings on this, because I for one get really squicked by dub-con mixed with medical malpractice. I didn't read the warnings and it came out of nowhere....but I'm telling you my eyebrows shot up and then I just giggled through the whole thing like WHAT IS HAPPENING. Sometimes fic is just there to be fun and slap you silly. IRL? No please. But this? Go in with the right mood and it's just strangely and shockingly delightful smut.

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JAVI GUTIERREZ

Formula 101: December to Remember Part 2: Take What Comes by @littlemisspascal There's a lot to love about Rae's F1 media fic. Even outside of the easter eggs in the worldbuilding and the lovely way Javi and Oddball's relationship develops, there are the delightful media interludes--emails, texts, instagram posts complete with character comments--that use pictures and dialogue to move the plot along in a unique way. I love how a short text chain not only sets up a later story locale, but illustrates a history and relationship between two characters so fluidly. Every chapter is a delight to see how the media enhances the storyline...a storyline that is moving in a very interesting direction...

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SPECIAL GUEST CORNER

BO KATAN KRYZE

Hiding Away from the Galaxy by @ghostofskywalker 🪐 I love a good reunion story. Here, you're an ex-Jedi who has a past with Bo and come to find her when all the wars are done. I'd agree that it's worth the wait when she takes you in her arms....

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MARC SPECTOR

My Knight in White by @flightlessangelwings 🪐 Jey's been doing a year of protectiveness, and you know I don't mind that AT ALL. I would love nothing more than to have Marc follow me home and protect me. And then, yeah, if he let me follow him home...and into his bedroom....I wouldn't complain..... *swoon*

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