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stylesispunk · 18 hours ago

Text

"I get wet at the thought of you"

No outbreak! Joel miller x fem!reader

Summary: an ordinary task made you see Joel differently and you just want him for you.

w.c: 6k

warnings: smut, bad smut don't get your hopes high.

A/N: I cringed a lot, but enjoy this attempt of me trying to write smut. I'm deprived of sleep.

You had lost the count of the days and hours of your life you had spent next to Joel. Ever since you met him thirteen years ago. Yes, when he had crashed your car as he was in a rush with his newly born baby to the hospital because she had the flu and you had felt an inexplicable pull toward him.

That day had been chaos for you, tires screeching, your coffee spilling across your dashboard, and Joel’s panicked eyes looking with your angry your as he tried to apologize while glancing at the baby seat in the back.

And somehow that anger became concerning. Instead of anger, you felt worry, yes. Something you couldn’t quite explain at that moment settled in your chest at the picture. You softened at the sight of him. Instead of lashing out at him, you felt a knot of worry tighten in your chest, a strange, insistent feeling you couldn’t name. The sight of him desperately touching his hair, then his fingers trembling slightly as he tried to fix the baby seat, stirred something inside you, protectiveness, though you weren’t ready to admit it even to yourself.

You studied his face, noticing the way his jaw tensed, the lines of exhaustion under his eyes, the hurried movements matching desperation written on his eyes. And in that instant, amidst the chaos, your heart had betrayed you: it had thumped for him, erratically, almost painfully, fleeting curiosity or sympathy.

You wanted to reach out, to anchor him, to tell him it would be okay, even though you barely knew him. It was an urge to be near him, to make sure he, and the baby, were safe. That moment, brief as it was, marked the beginning of something that would anchor your life for years to come a pull toward Joel that neither of you could have anticipated, but neither would ever forget.

Yes, you had become best friends. How cliché.

Along the years, you had developed a tension that neither of you fully acknowledged. Yes, you were best friends, confidants, partners in crime, thick as thieves. The ones who knew each other’s habits, moods, and silent thoughts and secrets, but underneath that comfortable familiarity simmered a subtle, undeniable current of something beyond that relationship you shared.

It felt almost sinful to think about, or even to put a name on it.

Yes, you had both dated other people, flitted in and out of relationships, most of them childish, temporary distractions from the truth, moments that never lasted. But Joel, there was something about Joel that defied logic, that made the triviality of those other relationships feel hollow. The way his eyes lingered just a second too long, the way his hand would brush against yours in a way that left your skin tingling, the way he seemed to know exactly what you needed before you even said it.

The way he acted like a decent man, yes, how ridiculous to feel it.

It wasn’t loud or dramatic, it was quiet, persistent, simmering beneath the surface of laughter, shared secrets, and stolen glances. It was in the brush of his shoulder as he passed, the slight pause before he spoke to you in serious moments, the rare softness in his voice when he thought no one was listening.

And you knew it wasn’t just you. You had caught the way his gaze would follow you across a room, you liked it. How hesitant he became when he talked about you to other people, the little protectiveness over you. Neither of you ever named it aloud, perhaps out of fear, perhaps out of habit, but the tension had always been there, like a string pulled taut between your two hearts.

You were at Joel’s house this evening, sitting at the table, the aroma of lasagna and herbs filling the room. Sarah, now thirteen, was excitingly recounting her day at school, her voice high and bright with that teenage enthusiasm. You smiled, listening to her attentively, noticing the subtle ways Joel’s eyes softened whenever she laughed, the protective curve of his shoulder as he reached over to steady her when she teetered in the chair.

After dinner, Sarah said goodnight and left to her room, humming a tune she had been practicing on guitar at school. The house fell quiet, the only sounds the clinking of cutlery and Joel’s low hum as he began to clear the table.

You moved to help him, picking up the plates. “Here, let me help,” you offered.

Joel shook his head, giving you that stubborn, half-smile you knew so well. “Nah, it’s fine. I got it. You just relax.” He winked at you.

You raised an eyebrow, at the gesture, pretending it didn’t do it anything to you, but there was a softness in your chest as you watched him move around the kitchen. “Are you sure? I don’t mind. It’ll be quick with two people.”

He glanced at you, then shook his head again. “I said I got it. You’ve been working all day, haven’t you? Sit. Drink that wine, enjoy it. I’ll handle it.”

You let out a small, leaned back in your chair, trying to play it cool, but your gaze followed him like a moth to a flame. There was something about the way he moved—so capable, so steady—that made your chest tighten.

And that was how it started, you stood up following Joel to the kitchen, and lean on the counter.

Joel was at the sink, sleeves rolled, water running over his forearms as he scrubbing the dishes. You should’ve looked away at that moment.

The way his jaw flexed. The low rumble of him muttering when the sponge slipped. The roll of muscle under a worn blue t-shirt.

It hit you like a sucker punch.

God, had he always been this hot?

You blinked, heat crawling up your neck, but your eyes stayed fixed on him like you didn’t have a choice. Joel Miller, your Joel, washing dishes, and somehow it was doing more for you than any date you’d had in months.

He glanced over his shoulder and caught you. “Why are you staring at me?”

You startled, scoffing “I’m not.”

Joel huffed, smirking. “Darling, I can feel your eyes burning a hole in my back.”

You crossed your arms, scrambling for composure, “Doing the dishes look good on you. All that responsible”

That earned a laugh from him, low and warm, and damn if it didn’t make your stomach flip.

“Responsible, huh?” He rinsed a plate, shaking his head. “If I’d known doing dishes was all it took to impress you, I’d have saved myself a lotta trouble over the years.”

He turned back to the sink, but you saw the curve of his smile, the faint pink at the tips of his ears. And suddenly the air between you felt different, like a bottle spilling secrets all over the ground.

Joel Miller, your best friend, was hot.

Joel rinsed the pan and set it aside, water dripping down his arms. “How’s that guy you were seein’? What was his name?” he asked, pretending he wasn’t paying attention to your mood shift.

“Eric,” you said, with a dismissive wave. “Oh, it’s so over. He was a child. Mentally, I mean.”

Joel snorted. “I figured.”

That made you laugh. “You figured it?”

“I could tell by the way he talked. That man couldn’t hold a conversation without sounding like a jackass.” He gave you a sideways look, smug.

“You were paying attention that hard?”

“Hard not to notice,” Joel said, rinsing off the sponge. “I guess you finally realized you need a man. Someone who knows how to take care of things properly”

The words landed heavier than he probably meant them to. You blinked, warmth crawling up your neck. A man. Your eyes lingered on him again, on his broad back, the way his shirt clung to him, the practiced efficiency in every movement.

He was an incredible father, a hard-working guy, responsible, educated and he was a man, he was what you were looking for in a man.

“I mean…” You tried for lightness, but your voice dipped softer. “I think I should definitely settle with a man, I guess.”

That made him pause. He dried his hands on the towel, turned, and set them on his hips in that easy, just him, standing there.

You stared at him, heat pooling low in your stomach, and cursed yourself silently.

Oh my god. What’s wrong with you tonight?

Joel raised a brow, smirk tugging at his mouth.

“Settle with a man, huh?” he says slowly, voice low, carrying rough edge that made your stomach flip.

“Yeah,” you say, shrugging, trying to sound casual, though your pulse is anything but. “Someone stable. Someone who… knows what he’s doing. Feels like I’ve been wasting time on boys.”

Joel’s smirk softened, but the intensity in his eyes didn’t waver. “And you think you’ve been looking for that in other people… and not finding it?” He shifted slightly closer, the faintest brush of his shoulder against yours making your pulse spike.

“Exactly,” you admitted, though your words sounded fragile even to yourself. “I guess I… didn’t know what I was looking for until now.”

A low, almost imperceptible chuckle escaped him. “Until now…” he echoed, his gaze flicking to your lips for just a heartbeat longer than necessary. “Funny how sometimes what you’ve been standing next to all this time is exactly what you’ve been needing.”

Your breath hitched, feeling the heat pooling low settled on your stomach. You wanted to look away, wanted to control yourself, but you couldn’t. Something about the way he said it, the meaning behind the words, made your pulse quicken and your chest ache with need you tried to ignore for years.

Joel tilted his head slightly, watching your reaction, and the smirk returned, softer now, playful yet serious “I guess being a responsible guy has its perks, huh?” he murmured, letting the words linger.

You bit your lip, gaze dropping for a moment, then forcefully meeting his again. “Yeah… yeah, it does,” you whispered, voice strained.

Joel leaned against the counter, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, yet just so out of reach. The kitchen was silent except for the faint hum of the fridge, the scent of dinner, and the suffocating energy vibrating between the two of you.

You shifted in your place, trying not to fidget with your fingers, but your eyes kept stealing glances to him, the broad line of his shoulders, the subtle flex of his arms as he rested his hands on the counter, the way his chest rose and fell rhythmically. Every little detail of him, made you weak.

“You know,” Joel said slowly, “I’ve been thinking…” He trailed off, letting the words hang, asking you lean forward slightly.

“Thinking about what?” you asked, trying to sound casual, but the tremor in your voice betrayed you.

“That maybe… you shouldn’t just settle for boy who treats you well when he wants something from you.” he said, letting the emphasis linger, his eyes scanning yours, dark and intent. “Maybe… you should settle for someone who knows how to make you feel wanted in every situation.”

Heat rushed through you, all of sudden. Your stomach twisted, your breath stuck in your throat “Wanted?” you asked, softly.

Joel stepped just a little closer, enough that your knees brushed his as you shifted in your position. His hand hovered near yours on the counter, almost daring, testing the waters. “Yes,” he murmured, his gaze locked with yours. “You know, responsible guys, the ones who can take care of things.”

Your heartbeat thundered in your ears; your chest tightened. Every instinct in you screamed to lean closer, to kiss him and letting him know exactly how much those words affected you. But you held back, letting the tension stretch longer.

“You make it sound very tempting,” you admitted, voice trembling just slightly, daring him to read it.

Joel’s smirk widened. “That’s the point,” he said, letting his eyes roam over you, letting the silence thicken.

Joel’s hand brushed yours enough to make your pulse spike. You froze for a heartbeat, letting the sensation linger, and he let his gaze linger on yours.

“Careful,” you whispered, voice low, almost shaky, though your body betrayed you, leaning subtly closer without meaning to.

He leaned just a fraction, and suddenly the space between you was too small. “Careful?” he repeated, low with the faintest smirk curved his lips. “With you I’m not sure if that’s possible.”

Your chest tightened, heat pooling low as your hand twitched, wanting contact, daring to reach, but you didn’t.

Joel’s eyes darkened further, taking in your expression, your posture, the subtle way you were leaning forward as if pulled by an invisible string. “You know,” he murmured, voice husky now, “you make it really hard to just ignore this feeling.”

Your breath hitched, and your gaze flicked to his lips for the briefest moment, heart hammering. “Ignore what?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper with tremor in your tone.

He leaned closer, close enough that the warmth of him brushed your cheek, his presence enveloping you. “This,” he murmured, “this… tension. This… wanting. You know it’s been here for years, don’t you?”

You swallowed, breath catching. “I—maybe,” you admitted, voice trembling slightly, daring him to push further.

Joel’s smirk softened, just slightly, but his eyes didn’t lose that spark. “Yeah.” he said quietly, leaning just a whisper closer. “

Your breath hitched as Joel leaned just a fraction closer, eyes dark, smirk teasing, but something inside you snapped. Years of holding back. You pushed back just enough to rise, walking around the counter.

Joel’s eyebrows lifted as he followed your movements, holding curiosity on his gaze “What are you doing?” he murmured, but his voice had lost the tone of teasing.

You stopped just inches from him, your fingers brushing lightly against his chest, feeling the beat of his heart beneath your palms. “I’m taking over,” you said softly, gracing a smile.

Joel’s smirk faltered, his eyes flicking to yours, dark and wide with surprise. “Oh yeah?” he whispered, amused.

You leaned in closer, letting your lips hover just near his, the scent of him intoxicating. “Yeah,” you breathed, your hands trailing deliberately over his shoulders, feeling the tension coil in his muscles as he leaned subtly into your touch. “You’ve had your fun teasing me, Joel Miller. Looking all that good.”

He froze, chest rising quickly, the air magnetic between you. “You—” he started, but you cut him off with the press of your hand to his chest, a teasing but firm hold. “Shh,” you whispered, your lips just grazing his jaw, letting the heat of your breath press against him. “Not a word yet.

Joel’s low groan vibrated, you could feel every inch of that controlled power he carried, but he was losing to you. The years of tension, the suppressed desire, the quiet longing, breaking.

You traced a path with your hands along his arms, over his chest, your lips lingering near his ear. “Some things can get you very far, you know? you murmured, voice thick, teasing, bold.

Joel’s eyes darkened, his breath hitching as your words sank in, the teasing heat in your voice igniting something brave on him, “Oh yeah?” he murmured.

You pressed a little closer, letting your body brush against his, the soft pressure made him stiffen beneath your touch. “Yes,” you whispered, letting your lips trail kissed along the curve of his jaw, down toward his neck, feeling the way his pulse throbbed beneath your fingertips. “A little initiative, a little confidence… can get you exactly what you want.”

Joel’s chest rose and fell quickly, hands hovering near yours, a bit unsure but completely captivated. “You…Since when you’re this dangerous to bear?” he breathed, voice tight, strained.

You smirked against his skin, enjoying the sound, the way his body responded, the subtle shiver that ran through him. “I prefer the word have,” you murmured, letting your hands slide higher along his shoulders, teasing the edge of restraint.

His low groan vibrated again, as a song to your ears. His hands twitched, the muscles in his arms flexing as if he wanted to reach for you, to pull you in, but you didn’t let him.

Instead, you tilted your head slightly, letting your lips hover over his, the heat of your breath ghosting over his skin. Joel’s chest rose and fell rapidly, eyes dark, fixed on yours, every inch of him under your spell.

“I hope you know,” you whispered, your voice low, sultry, teasing, “I don’t like to play around.” You let your hand press a little firmer to his chest, feeling the quickened beat of his heart beneath your palm. “When I want something… I take it and I treasure it.”

Joel’s lips parted slightly, a soft groan escaping him, and you leaned just a little closer, letting the tiniest brush of your lips trace the line of his jaw, again. “And right now… I want you, Joel” you murmured, letting your fingers trail over his shoulders, down his arms, letting him feel the heat of your touch.

He swallowed hard; the air electric and magnetic between you. “You… God-” he breathed, voice strained.

You smirked, leaning closer, so close that your lips barely hovered against his, teasing, testing the waters, then your mouth brushed his ear.

Joel’s hands twitched, wanting to hold you with them, to claim you and pull your closer to him, but you didn’t let him yet. You wanted a bit of control first, diesel was a desire, you know but yet you were playing with fire.

“Careful,” you teased softly, letting your lips graze the sensitive skin of his neck.

You leaned even closer, your lips now just a whisper away from his, feeling the heat of him on you, the subtle tremor in his chest beneath your hands. Joel’s breath hitched under your touch.

“Joel...” you whispered, letting your drop lower.

His eyes darkened, pupils wide, and he swallowed hard. The faintest shiver ran through him under your touch, and a low, ragged groan escaped his throat. “I… I don’t want to” he started, but you cut him off by pressing a finger gently to his lips.

“Shh,” you breathed, soft but still commanding.

Then, you closed the last fraction of space between your lips and his. The kiss was soft, teasing at first, a gentle claim, testing the waters of a breaking rule that set between two friends who and never crossed this line before, yet this felt right, it still felt electric, charged with years of a suppressed flame. Joel froze for a heartbeat, letting his hands hover near your waist, unsure whether to hold.

You tilted your head slightly, deepening the kiss, letting your hands trail down his arms, pressing lightly to his chest, taking control of this moment. s

Joel’s low groans grew in sound, his body leaning subtly into yours, but you didn’t let him take over, your hands, your lips, your breath dictated the rhythm. Every inch of him burned with need.

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, chest rising, pulse hammering. “See?” you whispered; voice sultry. “A little initiative, a little control it gets results.”

Joel’s lips parted; eyes dark. “Yeah… yeah, it sure does,” he breathed.

Before you could even tease him further, Joel’s hands gripped your waist and pulling you hastily against him. Your breath hitched at the strength in his hold, the heat radiating from his body, the low growl in his throat that made your pulse hammer.

Yes, completely weak.

“You’ve been in control long enough,” he murmured, voice rough, “Now it’s my turn.”

Before you could respond, he lifted you effortlessly, placing you over the edge of the counter. The sudden shift made your stomach flutter with exhilaration. You felt the cool countertop against your thighs, the warmth of him pressed to your middle.

Joel’s hands didn’t linger idle, they traced the curve of your waist, fingers gripping just enough to ground you, to make you acutely aware of every inch of contact. His lips found yours again, slower this time, harder, with a feral edge that sent sparks shooting through you.

“Been waiting years for this,” he murmured against your lips, and the rasp in his voice made your breath catch. “Years of… wanting you like this.”

You arched into him slightly, letting the counter support you as you leaned into his touch, giving him the subtle invitation, he needed. The electricity between you was almost unbearable, the tension of years now exploding in every brush of his hands, every press of his lips, every whispered word.

Joel’s eyes met yours, dark and hungry. His hands tightened slightly on your waist, holding you steady against the countertop, while his lips pressed to yours with a rough, urgent hunger that made your knees weak and your legs numb. Your hands tangled in the back of his shirt, pulling him closer, feeling the heat of his body, the sharpness of his desire matching your own.

“God… you don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he murmured, voice low and strained, teeth biting your bottom lip as he deepened the kiss.

You moaned softly, the sound vibrating between you, feeding the fire that had been building for years. You arched into him, letting your hips press just a little, testing the strength of his length, teasing him, letting him feel every pulse of need.

His fingertips mapped the curve of your hips, gripping you in a way that was both possessive and reverent. “I want you.” he groaned between kisses, each word breaking against your lips.

You leaned into him fully now, letting the counter support your weight, letting your lips roam, teasing his jaw, brushing his neck. “Joel… don’t stop,” you whispered, breathless, voice thick with desire. “I’ve… I’ve wanted this too.”

His lips curved into a feral smile, and he pressed himself fully to you, letting the friction and heat of your bodies collide.

You felt the tension coil tighter, a delicious, almost unbearable pull, the combination of control, desire, and intimacy making every second stretch and burn. Joel’s hands, his lips, his body.

Joel’s lips left yours for just a moment, trailing down the curve of your jaw, brushing along your neck, each kiss leaving a trail of fire. His hands gripped your waist firmly, holding you against the counter as if he couldn’t bear distance now.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently, pulling him closer, drawing out a low, rough groan that reverberated through his chest, and through you.

“Dou feel that?” he murmured against your skin, voice rough and husky.

“Yes,” you gasped, pressing closer, hips pressing his body towards toy, letting the electricity pulse between you.

He froze briefly, taking a look of you, then he tilted his head, lips finding yours again, harder this time, more insistent, letting his hands roam the curve of your body while your hands anchored him, guiding, teasing, claiming.

Joel’s low groan vibrated through you, and you pressed a little firmer, letting the heat of your body press fully against his. “You feel that?” you whispered against his lips; voice sultry, thick with need.

His hands trailed slightly higher on your back, then paused, as if savoring the thrill of letting you lead, letting you claim this moment. “I… I can’t…” he murmured.

You tilted your head, deepening the kiss, letting your lips roam over his, teasing, exploring, claiming, while your hands traced along his shoulders, down his arms, feeling every taut muscle flex beneath your touch. Your hands slide to the button of his jeans, fingers brushing against his cock beneath the fabric. His breath hitched sharply, eyes darkening, lips parting as a low, rough groan escaped him.

Without hesitation, you unbuckled his jeans, letting your fingers work with confidence, teasing, with careful movements.

Joel’s hands moved to your hips, tugging you closer, but you pressed back, no taking your hand away from him. The growl that escaped him was guttural, raw, resonating through the small kitchen, mixing with the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

You smirked, letting your fingers linger just enough to tease, to draw out the anticipation, your lips trailing along the line of his neck, brushing lightly against his pulse.

Joel’s low groan broke free “God… you’re killing me,” he murmured, voice strained, eyes dark, pupils dilated.

You smiled against his skin, moving slowly, letting your body press just enough against his to make him ache, your hands teasing and guiding, tracing the strong on his cock, “mmm” you murmured, lips brushing the shell of his ear, teasing, tempting.

His breath hitched, chest rising rapidly, the taut muscles beneath your hands flexing as his need for you became almost palpable. “You… don’t… stop,” he groaned, almost pleading, but you smirked, holding the tension, letting him feel every inch of your hand on it.

You pressed your kisses down his neck again, nipping lightly at the sensitive skin there. Joel’s low groan vibrated through him, chest rising and falling rapidly, hands clenching your hips as if he could pull you closer without your permission.

your fingers brushed over the waistband of his boxers, teasing the heat beneath. Joel’s sharp intake of breath, the groan that followed, the way his muscles tensed again.

“You feel that?” you whispered against his jaw, voice thick and sultry. “This… all of this… it’s mine to command.”

Joel groaned again, eyes dark, lips parting in a silent plea, every inch of him straining toward you. You smirked, letting your hands trace along his dick, pressing firm, claiming him, moving your fingers deliberately.

“You’ve wanted this for years, haven’t you?” you whispered, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

Joel’s groan was low, guttural, desperate. “Yeah… God… yes,” he breathed, pressing fully against you, letting his hands explore as you guided, teased, claimed.

Before you could tease him further, Joel’s hands gripped your waist firmly, lifting you slightly so that your legs brushed against his sides. The sudden, heated movement made your breath hitch, your body pressing fully into his.

“You’ve been in charge long enough,” he growled, voice low, rough, and magnetic. “It’s my turn.”

He pressed you harder against him, his body flush with yours, and the heat between you was almost unbearable. His hands roamed your back and hips, firm, insistent, claiming every inch of you. The groan that escaped him was guttural, raw, and it sent shivers racing down your spine.

He spread your legs forcefully with his hands, making your dress rode up, exposing your bare thighs and the lace of your black lacy panties.

“Wider.” He commanded, voice rough and demanding.

You complied, breathing harder, in short, feeling the cool air on your skin, contrasting the heat where you wanted him the most.

Joel dropped to his knees, yanking your panties aside without a word, mouth covering your pussy hungrily, his tongue lashing out to lick you folds with intensity. 'Fuck, you taste good,' he muttered against you, the vibrations making you squirm.

Making you moan loudly, pressing a hand over your mouth, while you free one fisted on his hair as he sucked and licked, his tongue deepened into your wetness. The sensation was overwhelming, wet, sloppy, and urgent, as he devoured you like a man possessed by years of pulling back and forth from a woman he loved.

You arched your back, moans turning into desperate cries, muffling by your own hand over your mouth. “Joel, please, don’t stop,” you begged, voice breaking with pleasure.

Joel’s tongue flicked your clit, then plunged inside, fucking you with his tongue.

The room filled with the sounds of your own wetness and his greedy slurps, the scent of your arousal in the air. Your body trembled, waves building inside you. You gasped, thighs clamping around his head, but he didn’t let up, just growled against your pussy, the vibration ripping another desperate moan from your throat.

“Fuck, Joel” Your voice cracked as he sucked your clit hard, fingers joining his tongue, stretching you open.

His lips glistening as he pulled back just to watch you squirm. “That’s it,” he muttered, dragging his thumb over your clit while his fingers curled inside you. “Come for me, baby.”

You whimpered, hips jerking against his mouth, his grip on your thigh bruising as he held you down. “I need more.”

Joel smirked, licking his lips before grabbing you by the waist, your legs wrapping around his middle. Your hands went immediately to his shoulders, holding him close, letting him feel every pulse of need, every shiver of desire. “Joel… god… yes,” you whispered, voice thick, teasing, wanting. “Take me…”

He didn’t wait another second. Hi carried you through the living room and up the stairs, every inch of him pressed to you, every movement sending sparks of electricity through your body.

When he finally reached his room, he didn’t slow. He crossed the door, pressing you gently yet firmly against the door before turning to face you fully. His lips found yours again. You gasped into the kiss, letting your hands roam his chest, tug at his hair, pressing against him in response to his urgent touch. The tension, the heat, the years of suppressed desire, all of it coiled into a storm between you, every nerve on fire, consuming both of you.

Joel’s hands gripped your waist, guiding you with a firm but deliberate force, and before you could react, he pinned you gently but insistently to his bed. The sudden weight of him pressing against you made your breath hitch, your body responding instantly to the heat and tension.

His eyes darkened, smoldering with desire, as he hovered over you for a heartbeat, lips brushing in a demanding kiss.

He stripped off his shirt, revealing the skin beneath. You swallowed, heat pooling low in your stomach all over again, fingers trailing along the curve of his shoulders, chest, feeling the warmth of him under your touch. Joel’s hands returned to you, sliding over your sides, down to the hem of your dress. He lifted it over your head, letting it fall to the floor.

Your hands slid down to his waistband, tugging slightly, teasing, wanting, while his lips traced a path down your neck, shoulder, your breasts.

He paused for a moment, letting his gaze drink you in, dark eyes flicking over every curve of your breasts, every shiver, every reaction of yours. “Mine,” he whispered, low, rough, and the single word sent a shiver racing down your spine.

“I need more” you pleaded.

Joel smirked, licking his lips, gripping your hips tighter, tilting your body as he pressed fully against you. His cock dragged through your slick, teasing before he slammed inside in onethrust. His lips left yours only to trail down your neck, teasing, nipping lightly, leaving a trail of fire that made your knees tremble.

You arched into him, hands roaming his back, chest, shoulders, savoring the strength beneath your fingers. Joel’s low, guttural groan vibrated through both of you, his body taut, every movement deliberate, controlled, and yet desperate with need.

“God… you feel incredible,” he murmured against your skin, hips already pounding into you. You bit your lip, nails raking down his back.

“Fuuuck, yes, harder.” You whispered.

He laughed, hands gripping your waist as he fucked you raw, every snap of his hips stealing your breath away from you, the sounds you were making, made him crazy.

His hands slid under your ass, lifting you to meet each thrust. The slap of skin, your shared gasps between kisses, the way his cock stretched you, every sensation blurred into white-hot need.

This was everything you had ever wanted.

Joel bent low; his breath hot against your ear. “More, baby?” he asked, grinding his hips, making you whimper on his ear.

You dug your heels into his back, forcing him deeper. “Fucking prove you can do it.” You commanded, sinking your teeth on his shoulder as he pounded into you, his rhythm turning ragged.

"Watch me." The bed cracked against the wall, your moans loud, Joel pressed his hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. His thumb found your clit again, rough circles matching his thrusts.

"Come now, baby.”

You broke down, tightening around him as pleasure tore you apart. Joel cursed, hips stuttering, then buried himself deep with a groan, his released hot inside you. Breathless, he collapsed half on top of you, lips brushing your throat.

“Enough?” he asked, weakly.

You laughed, weak but smug, tangling your fingers in his sweat-damp hair.

"For now."

His grin was all teeth. "Bullshit."

He nipped at your jaw, fingers tracing idle patterns on your hip as his cock twitched, still inside you, still hard.

“You’re… mine,” he whispered, low and strained, lips brushing your ear. “All of you… all of this… it’s mine now.”

You arched against him, relishing the stretch. "I got you all to myself now. No distractions." Your nails grazed his spine. “We can do this whenever I want.”

Joel exhaled sharply, rolling his hips in a slow, filthy grind. “Is that a threat?”

“More like a promise.” You said, dragging your heels down his calf. His gripped tightened around your middle.

“You’re so gonna regret that.” He said, flipping you onto your stomach, yanking your hips up. One hand fisted in your hair as he slid back in, his groan vibrating against your skin. “Starting right now.”

You choked on a moan as he his pace, each thrust stealing the air from your lungs. “Joel!”

He planted a kiss over your shoulder.

You stirred awake to the smell of coffee. Joel’s side of the bed was still warm, sheets rumpled where he’d been lying only a little while ago.

Padding out to the kitchen, you found him already dressed in a blue shirt and jeans, hair still mussed from sleep, sleeves shoved up his forearms. He was pouring coffee into two mugs, eyes flicking up the second he heard you.

“Morning, baby” he said, voice still laced with sleep.

You leaned against the counter, just watching him move “You made coffee.”

“Of course, I did.” He slid a mug toward you on the counter. “I can’t have you walking out of my house without something warm in your hands. Besides, figured you needed the rest. Thought I’d handle things.”

It was such a simple sentence, but it landed heavy in your chest.

I’ll handle things.

You sipped the coffee, eyes narrowing over the rim. “Are you always this responsible in the mornings?

Joel gave you a shy smile, shaking his head. “Baby, I’m always this responsible. You just don’t usually stick around long enough to see it.” His said, hand brushing your hips, carefully.

Then, he leaned into you, his voice low and breath warm against your ear. “Sarah already left to school,” He brushed a soft kiss on your cheek, the scruff of his beard tickled your skin. “It means I have more time before leaving to work.”

You tilted your head toward him, smiling at the sound of his voice. “Oh yeah? And what exactly are you planning to do with that time, Joel miller?”

His arm slid around your waist, pressing you softly against his chest “I was thinking I might make us some breakfast,” he said, lips pressing lazily over your temple before kissing your cheek again. “Then maybe” he let the words linger a bit, the corner of his mouth tugging into a smirk as his hand skimmed down over your hip, “I will remind you how pretty you looked last night.”

You laughed softly, fingers tracing over his arm. “A responsible man? Dangerous.”

Joel chuckled, pressing another kiss to your cheek before nudging you with his forehead pressed on your neck, “Darling, I’m nothing more than man who knows his priorities. Breakfast, work… and my woman, always, my woman.”

Yes, right there, with his voice vibrating in your ear and his hand firm on your waist, you knew he was lethal. Responsible. And Good help you, it made you weak by the simple fact that Joel Miller was a man in every sense.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller imagine #joel x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller x you

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pascwl · 1 day ago

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he is so boyfriend material

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal daily #pedrohub #pedroispunk #pedropascal #joel miller

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joelslastofus · 1 day ago

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[SUMMARY: In the heat of defending you, Joel’s strength turned against you instead. The injury was an accident, but the guilt threatens to break him.]

Angst

The first thing Joel heard was your name.

He’d been walking past the courtyard at Jackson, half-thinking about nothing, when the voices reachrd him. A couple men leaning against the fence, muttering, laughing low in their throats. He wasn’t listening at first—until one of them said your name followed by words that made his stomach clench.

“That woman always got something to say, hell maybe she’s in need for a little spankin’” the men laughed.

Joel stopped dead in his tracks.

“That old boyfriend of hers probably isn’t giving her what she needs” he shrugged.

The men didn’t notice him at first, kept laughing, voices rough, careless. Joel’s hands balled into fists. He told himself to walk away, to be smart about it. But then he heard one of them describe exactly what he’d like to do to you—mocking, filthy—and that was it.

Joel’s body moved before his mind caught up.

He was on the man in a heartbeat, shoving him back against the fence so hard it rattled. “Say that shit again,” Joel snarled, voice like gravel ground against metal. “Go on.”

The man smirked, even as Joel’s forearm pressed into his chest. “What, you jealous old man? Everybody knows—”

The words cut off with Joel’s fist slamming into his jaw. The man staggered but came back swinging, and suddenly it was a fight—raw, messy, fists and blood and rage spilling into the open.

From across the yard, you saw it.

“Joel!” you shouted, breaking into a run. By the time you reached them, both men were heaving, sweat and anger written all over their faces. Joel had him pinned again, teeth bared like a wolf about to rip its prey apart.

You didn’t think—you just reached out, grabbed Joel’s shoulder, tried to pull him back.

He didn’t know it was you.

With a roar, Joel spun, grabbing the hand on him, and shoved hard. You hit the wall behind you with a crack that knocked the breath from your lungs.

The sound you made—sharp, startled, pained, cutthrough the haze like a gunshot.

Joel froze.

His eyes locked on you, wide, horrified, as you stood pinned against the wall, one hand clutching your side where it had struck. Fear flickered across your face—fear of him—and Joel felt the ground drop out from under him.

“Jesus. Baby-“ His voice broke on the word, rough and desperate. His hands hovered in the air like he was afraid to touch you, afraid of what he’d just done. “I didn’t—I thought—”

Behind him, the other man laughed, spitting blood onto the dirt. “Look at you. Big protector, huh? Can’t even tell when it’s your own woman you’re hurtin’.”

Joel didn’t move. Couldn’t. The taunts barely reached him over the sound of your uneven breathing, the way your eyes wouldn’t leave his face. Not with trust. Not with love. With something brittle, something broken.

And it gutted him.

Joel’s hand lifted halfway, trembling with the urge to touch you, to check you, to beg you to tell him you were all right.

“Baby—”

But the second his fingers reached toward you, you flinched. A sharp recoil, your body tightening against the wall like you expected another blow.

It stopped him cold.

He stumbled back a step as if you’d shoved him yourself, his chest caving in at the sight.

“What the hell’s goin’ on here?” Tommy’s voice snapped through the tension, boots pounding as he came running across the yard. He skidded to a halt, eyes darting from the bloodied man still clutching his jaw, to you pressed against the wall, to Joel—rigid, pale, silent.

The bastard Joel had fought gave a wet laugh, spitting another mouthful of blood onto the dirt. “Your big brother lost his mind. Went off on me, then threw his own woman into the wall. Real piece’a work you got here, Tommy.”

Joel’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t say a word. He couldn’t. The truth was worse than the taunt.

Tommy’s gaze snapped to you then, sharp, worried. He caught the wayyour arm was wrapped protectively around your ribs, the shallow, uneven rise of your chest. “You hurt?” he asked quickly, voice low but urgent.

You nodded, just barely.

Joel took a step forward on instinct, but Tommy moved instantly, sliding between the two of you like a shield. His hand came up, flat against Joel’s chest, halting him in place.

“I’ll take her,” Tommy said firmly, already angling his body to usher you away. “Get her checked out.” He looked back at his brother and gave him a reassuring nod to let him know he knew it wasn’t his fault. Judging by the tension still around them, the men just feet away taunting the situation, he figured it was best for Joel to leave.

Joel’s throat worked, but the words wouldn’t come. His hands flexed uselessly at his sides, every part of him screaming to fix this, to hold you, to explain. Finally, he forced something out—rough, hoarse.

“It was an accident.”

The words sounded hollow even to him. You knew it was an accident, it happened so quickly. You knew Joel would never do such a thing purposely, still, you had never seen that look in his eyes.

“I know” Tommy assured him, he of all people knew his brother would never hurt you.

“Just let me make sure she’s alright. You can come by after”

Joel stood silent, watching as Tommy guided you away. The sight of your body leaning slightly to the side, your arm braced against your ribs, burned itself into his vision.

The man he’d fought muttered another curse, another taunt, but Joel didn’t hear it. He was staring at you, and at the space growing between you, feeling something inside him splinter.

Joel slowly walked away from the group of men, he didn’t have fight left in him.

Fractured ribs.

That’s how much force he had thrown you to the wall, that you fractured your ribs.

Your waist now wrapped up tightly, you could still feel an ache with each breath even with the pain medication.

“I’ve never seen him like that, Tommy. It didn’t look like my Joel” his brother stood at the foot of your bed with his hands on his hips. He knew exactly the look you were talking about.

“I know he didn’t mean to, it’s just…” you shook your head staring off into space, the thought of his eyes, dark, lost creeping into your mind.

“I’m sure he’s givin’ himself a good beatin’ about it. You know how Joel is about you.” You stood quiet with a slight nod.

“I’m not mad at him…I’m just-for second I thought he was going to do more. Until he realized it was me and then there he was again. But for just that split second I was terrified” Tommy didn’t speak, just a look of understanding. He’d seen his brother lost in that anger more times than he could count.

“You can tell him to come in” Tommy looked up somewhat surprised. You knew Joel was standing out there whether you wanted to see him or not, you knew he’d wait close by.

Tommy walked out to find Joel a few feet away, his eyes wide filled with worry as he walked towards him.

“She alright?” Joel asked low.

“She’s gonna be fine, she just-“ Tommy looked away, hesitating to tell his brother the damage he’d accidentally done to the woman he loves.

“Tell me” Joel’s eyes darkened.

“What I do”

“Her ribs are fractured” Joel felt a punch to his gut. His eyes welling up with tears.

“Jesus Christ-“ he whispered turning towards the wall, disgusted with himself. How the hell could he have done this.

“You didn’t know it was her alright, it was an accident. She knows that-“

“Did you see the way she was lookin’ at me” Joel whispered in between heavy breaths, his eyes on his brother. Tommy knew how guilty Joel felt, his brother constantly protecting you from anyone or anything to be the one to cause you this harm.

“She wants to see you” Joel froze almost in disbelief, almost as if he wasn’t ready to see you. He looked at your door then back at his brother who gave him an encouraging look and a hard tap on the shoulder.

“Go on brother.”

Joel lingered at the doorway, the sight of you in pain on the bed nearly forcing his gaze to drop. He didn’t move, caught somewhere between fear and helplessness, like a young boy unsure of how to navigate a world he couldn’t control. You could see it in him the moment you laid eyes on him, the guilt, the shame, he felt it all.

“You can come closer,Joel” he looked almost surprised by your request. Still hesitant, as if any movement he made might hurt you.

He walked slowly towards you, his hands in front of him, he stopped a few feet away.

“Closer” you spoke softly. He did as you asked until he was right beside you. The closer he got, the more intense his emotions became till he couldn’t hold it in.

“Baby-“ he shook his head, eyes wide with tears.

“I swear, I swear if I knew it was you-“

“I know” you whispered softly, your hand reaching for his.

His hand trembled as it brushed against yours, fingers hesitating before finally intertwining.

“I didn’t mean… I never…” His voice cracked, swallowed by the weight of what he’d done. He leaned down slightly feeling you pull him in, close enough that the heat from his forehead almost touched yours, but not daring to rest against you.

“It was an accident, Joel,” you whispered, pressing your hand lightly against his arm. “I know it wasn’t on purpose. I just never seen you so angry like that…” Your voice faltered for a moment, but you gave a small, reassuring squeeze. “…you didn’t mean what you did.”

He swallowed hard, blinking rapidly, as if trying to hold back everything he wanted to say. Finally, he let out a long, shaky sigh. “I should’ve been… I should’ve—”

You tightened your grip, stopping him. “Joel, look at me,” you said softly, lifting his chin with your fingers. “I’ll be fine, I’m fine” you assured him but he could see the discomfort you felt. Every ache you felt because of him.

His eyes searched yours, slowly, as if it took every ounce of strength, he lowered his forehead to rest against yours. “God… I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

You pressed a kiss to the side of his face and murmured, “I know. And it’s okay. Just… stay with me.”

He nodded against you, letting the weight of his regret ease slightly as he wrapped his arms around you, careful and tentative, as though holding you might somehow undo the accident. “I… I won’t let anything happen to you again,” he promised, voice low but determined.

“I promise”

#pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fan fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #the last of us #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller

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theshylittleelfgirl · 6 hours ago

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I loved this so much! Its so good, I love the witty and flirty responses from yn❤️

Joel Miller the man that you are😭

he feels like home

summary: All Joel Miller wanted was a cake from you, the town baker. All you wanted in return were a few items and to have a drink with him. Now, you’re naked in your bedroom, sitting on his face, getting eaten out like you’re the first real meal he’s had in years.

“Then ask me for what you really want.”

“You wanna come in and fuck me?”

“Only if you’ll let me take you out on a date tomorrow. I don’t do that casual, fuck buddy shit. You’re either mine, or nothin’ at all.”

pairing: Joel Miller/f!reader

rating: E (18+!!! No y/n, porn with some plot, explicit smut, Possessive Joel Miller, big-juicy-legal age gap, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, oral sex (f & m receiving), face sitting, woman on top, rough sex (arms pinned behind back, face shoved against bed), begging, dirty talk (so much), praise (a ton), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, breast worship, aftercare, reader is a lil bratty, feelings, pregnancy mention, Good Parent Joel Miller, sneaking around)

word count: 13.3k+

a/n: Hi! I missed Joel a lot, and as soon as he traded Legos for a cake, my ass was typing out this fic idea. I hope you enjoy my horny fever dream! Note: Halican Drops is a fake band. Sarah wears their band t-shirt in the first episode. I headcanon that they sound like Joan Jett & the Blackhearts. Title from "long story short" by Taylor Swift. Shoutout to @devineconjuring for betaing!

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

Masterlist

It’s a Tuesday in Spring, the sun due to set in the coming hour. The temperatures outside have begun to warm up, melting some of the snow high in the mountains. You’d already completed your shifts for the day in the community kitchen, assisting with making breakfast and preparing for lunch and dinner, which a majority of Jackson ate in the mess hall—you didn’t, instead opting to enjoy your food in the comfort of your apartment. With your evening meal finished and your dishes washed, you’re sitting on the couch in your living room listening to the soft tune of Nirvana playing on your record player—a new addition to your collection, their MTV Unplugged in New York album from ‘94—while darning the holes in all of your socks. There are two piles on the coffee table in front of you, one for the hole-y and the other for the now holeless.

A knock on your front door has you pausing, your eyebrows furrowing. You’re not expecting anyone tonight, as indicated by the oversized David Bowie concert t-shirt, lack of bra, and black leggings you’re wearing. “Coming!” you announce, leaning forward to set the sock and yarn on the tabletop before getting up and walking the short distance to the door. Turning the doorknob, you crack it open enough to see who’s there. To your surprise, it’s that handsome older gentleman who arrived in town a couple of months ago, whom you haven’t had the opportunity to introduce yourself to, but have definitely ogled. How could you not with how his flannels always hugged his broad shoulders and how good his jeans made his ass look. You take in what he’s wearing today—a red flannel shirt with dark denim on his bottom half. Your eyes meet his. “Can I help you?” you ask.

He gives you a sheepish smile that’s honestly adorable on such a rugged face. “I’m sorry for botherin’ you, ma’am. My name is Joel. Joel Miller, Tommy’s brother? I’ve been in Jackson a little while now, and I was told you’re the person to talk to if I’m in need of a cake.”

“Oh!” You open your door wider. “Yes, that’s me!” Quickly, you give him your name and offer your hand for him to shake, noticing immediately how much bigger his is when it practically engulfs your smaller one. It has your mind wandering, wondering what it’d feel like on other parts of your body. That thought heats your skin, and you feel a little disappointed when he lets go. “What kind of cake are you needing?”

“A birthday cake.”

“For your wife, or girlfriend?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “For my dau—kid,” he catches himself.

You lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms over your chest, and you see his split-second glance at your breasts. You smile. “For your kid, who’s not your daughter.”

He sighs, his hands going to his hips. “It’s… complicated.”

“You adopt her?”

“Yeah.”

It was pretty common for people to take in orphaned children, especially here in town. As sad as it was, there have been instances of kids losing their parents or guardians on their way to Jackson who still managed to make it to the town’s walls, or who were found by patrols and brought in. Luckily, there was an abundance of couples and families willing to foster or adopt the children.

“How old is she turning?”

“Fifteen.”

“Got yourself a teen. How long has she been in your care?”

“Seven, eight months.”

“Ah, I understand the not-daughter thing now.” His kid is older, and their relationship is still relatively new. They’ve probably bonded but aren’t comfortable using father-daughter labels yet. “Just you and her?”

“Yeah.”

He’s single. That’s good to know.

“It’s sweet that you want her to have a cake for her birthday.”

He smiles fondly. “It’s her first.”

Handsome, polite, and loves his adopted child as if she were his own? He’s perfect, and it’s surprising no one has taken him off the market yet. Maybe you should shoot your shot. There aren’t a lot of guys like him in Jackson, and it wouldn’t hurt to try.

“That’s even sweeter,” you reply. “What’s her name?”

“Ellie.”

“A great name—simple and lovely. The last cake I made was for this woman’s husband, named Reginald. Do you have any idea how fucking hard it is to spell out, ‘Happy Birthday, Reginald,’ on a cake the size of a small dinner plate?”

He looks amused. “Pretty hard?”

“Pretty fucking hard, Joel. I made it work, though, squishing the letters together. Do you have a preference if it’s chocolate or vanilla?”

“Uh, chocolate, I guess?”

“Okay, and when do you need it done by?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

“Short notice and chocolate—that’s gonna cost you extra.”

“That won’t be a problem. I used to be a smuggler. I can find somethin’ you’d want.” That’s how you’re paid, by bartering, goods, or favors.

“A smuggler, huh? If you don’t mind me asking, where are you from? Aside from Texas, I know Tommy’s a Texan.”

“Boston. The QZ out there.”

“Doing your smuggling, I assume?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not a chatty guy, are you?”

He huffs out a breath, looking down at his boots. “No, ma’am. I don’t have much to chat about.” His eyes land on yours again.

“That’s not true. You came all the way here from fucking Boston. You could tell me about your travels, Ellie, or hell, we could reminisce about the days before the world ended.”

He smiles, his weight shifting to one side. “Were you even alive back then?”

“I was.”

“You had to be young. A kid.”

“Yeah. Doesn’t mean I don’t remember the comic strips in the Sunday newspaper and how good fresh McDonald’s fries were.”

His eyebrows rise almost to his hairline. “Wow, I haven’t thought about McDonald’s in years.”

“What I’d give for some McNuggets and an apple pie.”

“Did you get some of the apple pie at dinner tonight?”

You smile. “I made the apple pie at dinner tonight.”

He matches your expression. “Did you? That tells me the cake is gonna be really fuckin’ good, then.”

The compliment makes you preen. “Thank you. My mom taught me how to bake before, you know.” The outbreak. “We had this old family recipe for peach pie that always won first place at the county fair.”

“If it was anythin’ like the pie tonight, I can see why.”

“Stop that,” you tease, waving away his words. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

His eyes dart away, clearing his throat. It must have been a while since he was last flirted with. He focuses on you again, changing the subject. “So, what kind of stuff do you want?”

“Ummm, let’s see. It’s her first cake, you’re a sweetheart, and I have all of the ingredients. How about records, movies, and booze?” Easy stuff for him to get. It’s basically the equivalent of a half-off discount. “Oh, and socks!” Yours have seen better days.

“Any records or movies? You’re not lookin’ for anythin’ specific?”

“Nope.” Any duplicates you receive, you’ll trade.

“What about alcohol?”

“I’m not picky. Whatever you have will do.” All that matters is that it’s safe to consume. Liquor is a hot commodity and a valuable bargaining tool.

“Okay.” He nods. “That’s not too bad. I appreciate you for bein’ so kind to me. I’ll have it all to you tomorrow.”

“Great! But there’s something else I want, too.”

His eyes narrow slightly, and he frowns. He thinks you’re trying to pull one over on him. “What else?”

“I’d like to have a drink with you.”

When every day could possibly be your last, there’s no point in playing coy. You’re going to go after what you want, unashamed.

Surprise shows on his face, clearly taken aback. “You want to have a drink with me…?” he says the words slowly, like he almost doesn’t believe them.

“Yes, I want to have a drink with you, Joel.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Why would a woman want to have a drink with you?”

He frowns. “It can’t be for the reason I’m thinkin’.”

“If you thought it’s to get to know you better because I’m interested in you, that is correct.”

That just makes him look confused. “Me? You know I’m old, right? Shit, I’m probably older than your parents.”

Your eyebrow lifts. “And? You’re an adult. I’m an adult. What does your age have to do with anything?”

His arms cross over his chest. “A lot, sweetheart. I don’t think you know what you’re askin’ for. I’m not a young buck anymore. I don’t have the energy of a boy your age. I’m old and broken. My fuckin’ ear doesn’t even work.” He points at the right one.

“So, you’ve got some wear and tear. I don’t care. I still want to have a drink with you. But hey, if you’re uncomfortable with that, then don’t worry about it. I’ll, of course, still make Ellie her cake for the stuff we agreed on.”

“It’s not that I’m uncomfortable. I’m flattered, really. I’m just havin’ a hard time understandin’ why you’re interested in someone as old as me. There’s gotta be guys closer to your age around here that’d love to have a drink with you. What I mean is you’re beautiful, and I know you can do a lot better than me.”

You smile. “You think I’m beautiful?”

“Yes.” He nods. “But that’s beside the point.”

“Have you thought that maybe I like that you’re so much older than me?”

He stands up straighter, his interest piqued. “You got a thing for older men?”

“Now you’re getting it. I do have standards, so it depends on the man in question. In your case, you check all my boxes.”

His expression shows his curiosity. “What are you lookin’ for?”

“Someone caring, pleasant to talk to, not creepy, easy on the eyes, can hold their own, and fifties preferred; I’m willing to dip into the late forties if I have to.”

“Why is fifties preferred?”

“You really wanna know?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Okay. Men your age are great in bed, it’s as simple as that.”

“What makes them great?”

“You wanna know for later?”

You’re rewarded with a flirty little smirk. “Maybe.”

His answer thrills you. “Maybe, huh? I’ve found them to be very generous, and they seem to care that I’m having a good time, too, which is fantastic. They’re also the only ones who’ve ever gone down on me. The guys my age are always in a rush and generally care more about themselves than me. It sucks. So, men in their fifties are my preference.”

The explanation has his dark eyes getting even darker. Now that he’s aware of the extent of your interest in him, there’s a palpable shift between you, and it becomes clear that the attraction is mutual.

“And you’re not seein’ anyone currently…?”

“No. I’m single and very available, especially to you. Now do you wanna come in for a drink?” you ask, the door squealing as you push it open even more.

There’s no hiding that he’s contemplating your offer; it’s there on his face, probably warring with himself over the morality of the situation, and you get it. Given the significant age difference, there are many things he could be worrying about, which he needs to weigh the pros and cons of. At least it’s reassuring that he seems to have a conscience. You’re just hoping he chooses to give in to his desires.

It’s seconds later that he’s made his decision.

“No use in fightin’ it,” he says under his breath.

Joel sends the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy when he takes a step toward you, his hand going up onto the doorframe above your head. He leans in close, your faces only an inch apart, and you gulp at the proximity. “Only a drink?” he rasps. “Is that really all you want, sweetheart?” His eyes keep jumping from your eyeline to your mouth like it’s taking a lot for him not to kiss you.

“No,” you breathe.

“No, it’s not. Tell the truth. What do you want?”

“You.”

Excitement burns low in your belly. You can’t believe this is actually happening. You figured he might be okay with having a drink with you, but this? This is definitely better.

“Then ask me for what you really want.”

“You wanna come in and fuck me?”

“Only if you’ll let me take you out on a date tomorrow. I don’t do that casual, fuck buddy shit. You’re either mine, or nothin’ at all.”

A shiver moves down your spine, your heart pounding so hard you think it might beat right out of your chest. From that declaration, and his confidence, you know he’s got a big dick. Better yet, you’re almost positive he knows how to use it, too.

“Yes, I’ll go out with you, but I’m not yours until you show me why I should be.”

He smirks. “Is that right?”

“Yep,” you answer. Your palm presses to the front of his jeans, over his hardening cock, which you’re happy to find is rather sizeable.

It delights you how his eyes close, and he groans, “Fuck.” When they open again, there’s only the tiniest sliver of brown circling his blown pupils. “You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me.”

“Not up for the challenge?”

Joel growls, his lips suddenly on yours, kissing you hard. A surprised sound leaves your throat, but you’re quick to kiss him back, matching his fervor as you grab fistfuls of his shirt, tugging him into your house. His large hand is on your ass, the other shoving your front door closed before its cupping your cheek. Neither of you wants the kiss to end, your mouths staying fused as you walk backward until you bump into the arm of your couch. This is when you spin him, getting him around to the front of the sofa. You break apart as you push him, Joel falling back onto the cushions with a heavy, breathless thump.

Dust floats in a patch of evening light behind him as you stand there, your pulse hammering in your rib cage, your lips tingling. This man with lines etched into his face, carving out the years of grit, survival, and untold grief—no one is lucky enough to make it as far as he has without losses—he’s looking up at you like you’re the first beautiful thing he’s seen in a long, long time.

It’s electric and heavy all at once, like standing on the edge of something dangerous and good. What are you to do but jump headfirst into the abyss that has the potential to ruin you for anyone else?

“You’re gorgeous,” he says, ending the silence. “C’mere, baby.” He holds out his arms to you, and you’re like a moth to a flame—drawn to him, crawling into his lap without another word. Straddling his thighs, you take his stubbled cheeks into your palms and kiss him once more. He moans into your mouth, his big hands grabbing onto your ass, encouraging you to grind against the straining length in his jeans, the friction to your clit stoking the arousal in your center.

It shouldn’t be a surprise that he’s not in a hurry to get you naked. He’s more interested in kissing you, delving his tongue between your lips to tangle with your own. It makes you assume he hasn’t been with a woman in quite a while, and he’s taking his time, luxuriating in your affections.

It goes on and on, until you hit a point where you need to come up for air, your mouth coming off of his to draw in a deep breath. He pants, kissing your chin and the underside of your jaw.

His hands go still. “Can I take your shirt off?” he asks, pulling back to look at your face. His lips are reddened and shiny from spit, his cheeks tinted in a pink flush.

You smile, your fingertips sliding through the hair above his ears. “Only if you take off yours, too.”

“Okay.”

He doesn’t waste time. Joel grips the hem of your t-shirt, tugging it up and off your raised arms, letting it fall onto the floor. Your fingers start unbuttoning his flannel, while his attention is on your bared breasts that he caresses, his thumbs sweeping across the soft skin, your nipples tightening.

The last button is undone. “Off,” you order, pushing open his shirt. He sighs at being interrupted, but he does as you say, sitting up in his seat, jostling you as he shrugs off his flannel, the garment meeting the same fate as your t-shirt.

There’s no time for you to admire the newly revealed skin; he’s zeroed in on your tits again, his hands squeezing them gently, weighing them in his palms. It’s hard not to laugh when he shoves his prickly face into the pillowy mounds and happily sighs. You’re not sure if he’s enjoying your softness again or if he’s a boob guy. Maybe it’s both. You are, however, pretty sure he’s in heaven, and good for him. He can have this moment. Your arms are around his neck, with your fingers pressed into the brown waves on his head.

He kisses along the side of your breast, and you’re gasping at him sucking your pebbled nipple into the warmth of his mouth. It sends a shock of pleasure straight to your clit, making you squirm in his lap. “Yes,” you moan as he swirls his tongue around the hard bud. He moves to give your other breast the same treatment, a shiver rolling through you when cold air hits the saliva left behind on your skin.

Wetness pools between your thighs, your cunt aching, pulsing with need. Joel pulls off your stiff nipple with an audible pop, lifting his head to meet your eyes, his gaze heavy, pupils blown. His voice dips into something rough and hungry. “If I’m not mistaken, you like your pussy eaten?”

“I love it.”

“Thank Christ, ‘cause I fuckin’ love eatin’ it, and it’s been too damn long since I’ve gotten a taste.”

His eagerness has heat sizzling in your veins. “Well, how about we change that?” You get up to stand in front of him. “Lose the boots.”

He smiles. “Yes, ma’am.” He grunts as he leans forward, quickly untying and taking off the worn leather boots that he puts neatly paired on the floor next to him. His socks look a lot better than yours—one of the perks of being a smuggler and knowing where to find things.

You stick out your hand to him. “Let’s go, handsome. We’re taking this to the bedroom.”

“I like the sound of that.” He accepts your palm, and you pull as he rises up onto his feet with a pained groan. “Will be better for my back.”

With Joel hot on your heels, you lead him out of the living room and through the kitchen to the hallway, down to the end where your bedroom is. Crawling onto your queen-size bed, he follows and has you squeaking in surprise when he roughly tugs your leggings off your lower half, causing you to fall onto your stomach. He easily manhandles you onto your back, giving you a glimpse of his strength. You find yourself lying there with your head cushioned on a pillow, Joel kneeling between your legs.

It catches you off guard how he looks down at you, as if he’s seeing something sacred. There’s awe there that he barely hides. Reverence. It takes your breath away that, once again, it’s written on his face that he thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s seen in a very, very long time.

His hands smooth up your thighs. “Today is my lucky day,” he murmurs, voice thick with want. “Just look at you.” He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, dragging them down and off, tossing them to the floor. “Fuckin’ perfection laid out for me. Look at that pretty little pussy.” With two fingers, he spreads open your slick folds, his hot gaze locked on your cunt. “You’re gonna taste so fuckin’ good.” His tongue wets his lips like he’s imagining it. “I wanna fuckin’ drown in it.”

A sharp jolt of excitement shoots through your core, clenching hard with anticipation. You’re expecting him to dive in, tongue first. What you are not anticipating is Joel leaning up, wrapping an arm around your waist, and rolling you on top of him to have you straddle his stomach.

Your eyebrows pull together, blinking down at him with your hands on his chest. “I thought you were eating me out…?”

He smiles. “I am. Maybe not the way you’re expectin’, though. You ever ride someone’s face?”

Your stomach flips. “No?”

“Well, looks like today is your lucky day, too.” His biceps flex as he guides your hips up toward his head. “Get up here, baby.”

You grab the wooden headboard to steady yourself, your heart racing, nerves twisting in your gut. You want it—you want it so fucking bad, but your brain won’t stop worrying about the logistics. Or the potential body count of one extremely hot older man.

He gets you to settle over his face, your thighs bracketing his ears. “How do I do this without, you know, killing you?” you ask.

His voice is muffled beneath you. “Just sit on my face. All of your weight. I wanna feel it.”

He wants you to smother him with your pussy?

“Joel, babe, I like you, and I want to see where this goes, but that can’t happen if I suffocate you.”

“Suffocatin’ between your thighs would be the best way to leave this world.”

Considering the alternatives of getting bitten by infected or murdered by fellow humans, he isn’t wrong that dying while doing something you love is the best way to go out.

“That doesn’t reassure me.”

“It’d take more than your pussy to kill me. I can move you off if I have to, or I’ll tap your thigh twice.” He demonstrates. “So, quit your worryin’ and sit.”

“Bossy.”

He smacks your ass, the sharp sting making your cunt clench. He loses patience, gripping your thighs, yanking you down against his face. That worry you had about accidentally murdering Joel? It flies out the window, your brain short-circuiting at the heat of his mouth and the wet messy sound of his tongue plunging into your pussy. It’s instant, the pleasure cutting through you sharp as a knife, your head falling back, your knees buckling.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan, already starting to tremble.

It’s filthy and almost too much, but not enough all at once. His stubble scrapes your inner thighs, adding a bite to every glide of his wicked tongue, his groans vibrating against your sensitive skin. You’re floating, your heartbeat thumping in your ears. He licks up every drop you’re dripping like a man possessed, his nose bumping your swollen clit.

He’s going to make you come—arousal burns hot at the base of your spine, the knot in your belly winding tighter and tighter. You’re so lost in how fucking good it feels you don’t even realize you’re grinding down until Joel’s fingers grab your ass and rock you against his mouth, helping you move.

“That’s it,” he groans into your cunt. “Use me. Fuck my face, baby.”

And you do, your hips moving greedily now, chasing every lick of his tongue, unashamed. Your whole body burns, your pussy soaked, every nerve in your body lit up like the Fourth of July. Sweat drips down your spine and between your breasts.

You thought Joel was in heaven earlier with his face buried in your tits, but from the way he’s eating you out like it’s his last meal on earth and how he can’t seem to stop groaning against your cunt, this is his real heaven. He drags the flat of his tongue through your folds to wrap his lips around your throbbing clit, and when he sucks, he has to hold you still as you writhe, chanting his name over and over again, spiraling out of your mind in pleasure.

God, he really is going to ruin you for anyone else, isn’t he? It’s not like this is the first time you’ve been eaten out, either. But no one’s devoured you like this. He’s truly hungry for it—relentless. Slurping at your pussy like it’s his favorite meal.

“Don’t stop,” you whimper. “Don’t fucking stop. Your mouth—fuck—I love your mouth. It’s so good.” You don’t even know if he can hear you with your thighs clamped over his only good ear.

Maybe it was a mistake challenging him to show you why you should be his. He’s pulling out all the stops to convince you. You’re already unraveling, and this man has the audacity to snake his hand up to your breast and tweak your nipple. It forces a choked sound from your throat, and your vision blurs for a second.

He works you up, higher and higher, until you’re trembling over him, your thighs quaking, belly tight, heart hammering like it's trying to break free. You’re drenched, dripping onto his face, as he feasts on you like he’s starving.

“Fuck, Joel—” you gasp, but can’t even finish the thought.

You reach for his hand on your thigh, desperate for something to hold onto. He squeezes it, grounding you.

Joel moans into your cunt as if it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, dragging his tongue in slow, deliberate strokes that push you right to the edge. Then he sucks your clit deep into his mouth, and the world drops out from under you.

You scream. There’s no other word for it. You cry out like you’re shattering, hips jerking, cunt clenching so hard around nothing it aches. Your orgasm rips through you, hot and brutal, pleasure crashing over you in waves that leave you gasping and twitching.

Joel doesn’t stop; he doubles down.

He groans like he’s getting off on it, rutting his tongue against your pulsing clit and shoving it inside you to lick up your release. His stubble scratches your swollen lips, his fingers digging into your ass to keep you right where he wants you.

“That’s it,” he growls into your pussy between licks. “Give it to me. Fuckin’ soak my face, baby. I want it all.”

Sounds are spilling from you of their own accord—moans, cries, possible declarations of love for this guy you’ve known for less than two hours. You don’t know what you’re saying, you just know he’s wrecking you, and you never want it to end.

“Joel, Joel—oh fuck—I can’t—” He has you coming again. It builds until it spills over, dizzying and all-consuming. Your body goes taut for a heartbeat, and then you’re melting, euphoria searing through your veins, your thighs shaking uncontrollably around his head. This one isn’t as explosive as the last, but it’s deep, stealing your breath and making you feel like your soul just drifts out of you.

“Good girl,” his voice half-muffled by your cunt.

His tongue continues lapping lazily at your oversensitive clit until you’re flinching, overstimulated. Finally, he eases up, making a satisfied hum.

“You did so fuckin’ good for me,” he murmurs.

You’re numb with pleasure—boneless, floating. Joel’s strong hands slide up to your waist, carefully lifting you off his face. He settles you onto his chest for barely a moment before your legs give out, collapsing onto your back beside him in a spent, panting heap. Your arms and legs feel heavy, your body buzzing like a live wire.

Well, it still rings true that guys his age know what they’re doing in the bedroom. You have a theory on why that is, and it has to do with them being in their thirties before everything went to hell. They remember what it’s like to fuck in a time void of the uncertainty and fear of today. They remember what it’s like to be carefree and able to take their time in bed, unlike these days, where it’s hard to find somewhere safe enough to feel that relaxed.

Luckily, Jackson is one of those places. So here, in the safety of the town, they get to relive those years, and you’re more than happy to go down memory lane with them.

And somehow, with hardly any effort, Joel wants you to be his.

It’s embarrassing how giddy that makes you.

He can’t know he’s already sold you on a relationship with him. You want him to work for it, so you don’t come off as too easy.

The old springs in the mattress squeak as Joel shifts onto his side. His rough, calloused fingers stroke along your cheek. “You okay, sweetheart?” he softly asks. “Need a second?”

You nod slowly. “My arms are noodles, and my legs aren’t any better. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t walk if I tried.

“Yeah?” You can hear the smile in his voice. “It’s a good thing you don’t have anywhere to be.” There’s a pause. Without looking at him, you know he’s frowning now. “You don’t have plans, right? Tonight?”

Your eyes blink open, your head turning his way, smiling. The bottom half of his face is shiny with your juices, and he looks adorably worried with a crinkle between his eyebrows that you reach up to smooth with your thumb. “No plans. I was going to fix all the holes in my socks. Maybe patch up some other clothes. I’d much rather spend my evening with you, though.”

He smiles, grabbing your hand, kissing your knuckles. “Good. I’ve got nothin’ goin’ on, either. I just need to be home by midnight.”

“Because you, what? Turn back into a pumpkin after midnight?”

He gives you a flat look. “No, I don’t turn into a damn pumpkin. I’ve got a kid. I need to be home for her.”

“You have no idea how much it turns me on that you’re a good dad.”

Joel huffs in amusement, his eyes leaving yours. “I don’t know about bein’ a good dad, but she doesn’t seem to hate me, so I must be doin’ somethin’ right.”

“I mean, you’re getting her a birthday cake—her first birthday cake, might I add—and you were willing to pay whatever price it’d cost. Sounds very ‘good dad’ to me. That actually reminds me. Don’t worry about the shit we agreed on. We’re good. I’ll make the cake tomorrow. You could even come over and help me, if you wanted to.” That’d be such a cute date.

His gaze comes back to yours, his lips downturned. “I don’t want you doin’ it for free. I know that ingredients aren’t easy to come by, and you’re takin’ time out of your busy day.”

“Who said anything about free? Just so we’re clear, I normally do not make cakes in exchange for sexual favors, but this will be the only exception because you were that good—don’t let it go to your head.”

It’s too late, the smugness is already showing on his face, his dark eyes sparkling with a crooked grin. “I was that good, huh?” His head dips to place a soft kiss on your naked shoulder. “You gonna be mine now?”

“I don’t know. I think I need some more convincing.”

“More convincin’?” He lets go of your hand to rest his palm, warm and firm, on your thigh. “What will it take?”

“You know what I want.”

“Be a good girl and ask me for it.”

You suck in a breath, your cunt throbbing in beat with your heart. Oh, you like that.

Quickly, you compose yourself. “Ask for it? Or do you want me to beg for it?” Your tone shifts to something sultry. “Please, Joel. I need your cock. I’m aching for it. Fuck me. Fill me up. Ruin me—whatever you want. Just please, will you fuck me now?”

His fingers tighten on your leg, his voice deepening. “How do you want it?”

You smile. “How do you want me?”

“Flip over.”

“Take off your pants.” You glance down at the denim to see the impressive bulge at the front. “I’m not going to be the only one who’s naked.” Your gaze returns to his. “Go on. Get up and strip.”

He’s frowning. “And you were callin’ me bossy…” he mumbles.

“You got a problem with that, big guy?”

“No, ma’am.”

He moves to get off the bed and walks around to the end of it. You sit up on your elbows to watch with interest as he undoes his belt and unbuttons his jeans. He doesn’t drag it out, shoving both his pants and boxer briefs down his legs and peeling off his socks, before standing to his full height for you to take him in, his hands on his hips.

The first thing that catches your attention is his dick bobbing between his legs. He’s mouth-wateringly thick, with a decent length that, at the thought of how it’d feel inside you, has you rubbing your thighs together to quell the sudden ache. The tip is flushed an angry red, with beads of precum smeared to make it shine in the light of your bedside lamp.

“Keep starin’ at it like that, and you’re gonna start droolin’.”

Your eyes rise to his amused ones. “Who says I’m not already?”

He’s smirking. “That mouth’s gonna get you in trouble.”

You smile. “Is that a threat, handsome?”

“It’s a fact.”

“I love this foreplay. You’re cute.”

His eyebrow lifts. “I’m cute?”

“Yes, you’re cute, and so fucking hot.” Your attention returns to his body. Naked, the broadness of his shoulders and the tininess of his waist are more pronounced. “You’re in amazing shape.”

“You think so?”

“I’d fuck you, even with the wear and tear.” You wink at him.

Speaking of wear and tear, his body is littered with scars, some old, having silvered long ago, and others newer. There’s one low on his abdomen that catches your eye, and you need to get a closer look at it, scrambling onto your hands and knees, crawling over on shaky limbs to kneel in front of him. It’s relatively big, jagged—a quick patch job by someone inexperienced or in a hurry—and red, which means he’s only had it a handful of months. The injury must’ve happened on his trek to Jackson from Boston.

What’s fascinating about it is that a wound of its caliber should’ve killed him while traveling across the country. If it weren’t the blood loss that got him, the risk for infection in those conditions would’ve been insane. Your hand moves of its own volition, pressing your fingertips to the warm, raised skin—you gasp when he abruptly snatches your palm, your chin lifting to meet his eyes.

“Sorry,” you apologize immediately.

“Shit.” He lets go, looking startled by what he’d done out of instinct. “No, I’m sorry.” His eyes dart away, sighing. “I haven’t been touched like this in a long fuckin’ time.”

“Let’s change that.”

He meets your gaze as you grab his waist for support and lean in to kiss the scar softly. He swears under his breath, his thighs tensing. “Jesus,” he rasps. You keep your eyes on his, kissing down through his happy trail to your destination between his legs. “You’re gonna fuckin’ ruin me.”

He must’ve showered earlier after working his assigned job for the day. The scent of crushed thyme clings to his skin, sharp and earthy with just a hint of mint that’s grounding and fresh.

When your fingers wrap around his cock, Joel’s head falls back as he groans loudly. He’s hot in your palm, his shaft hard as steel and velvety smooth as you slowly pump him.

“God, you have a pretty dick,” you tell him.

He stares down at you again, and you love how he looks at you, as if you’re a reward and not just a good time, how he looks at you like you mean something. “Yeah?” he says the word in question. His big hand caresses your face, stroking his thumb over the apple of your cheek. “You want it to ruin that perfect little pussy?”

“Yes, after this—” Dipping your head, you take his cock into your mouth, engulfing as much as you can until he’s hitting the back of your throat. There’s only a second for you to enjoy the heaviness of him on your tongue before he’s pulling you off of him.

“No,” he hisses. “None of that, sweetheart.” He grips the base of his shaft, giving it a squeeze to calm himself.

Frowning, you look up at him. “Why not?”

“Because if you keep goin’, I’m gonna blow before I even get inside you. I told you, it’s been a long fuckin’ time since I’ve been with someone.”

His reason makes you smile. “And you want to fuck me instead of coming down my throat.”

“And I want to fuck you instead of comin’ down your throat.”

Why is that romantic to you? Maybe because there aren’t a lot of guys who’d turn down a blow job so you can get off together.

“Hands and knees?” you ask, “Or on my stomach?”

A grin tugs at the corner of his lips. “That’s my girl. Hands and knees, baby.”

You don’t have to be told twice—turning in place, you shuffle up the mattress, settling on your hands and knees in the center of the bed. It’s instinctive how you arch your back, your ass lifted, and thighs parted. It’s a pose that feels both vulnerable and powerful, knowing exactly what kind of view you’re giving him.

You glance back over your shoulder. “You coming, big guy?” It makes you grin, finding him distracted by the display you’re putting on. You wiggle your ass to get his attention. “You gonna get up here?”

That snaps him from his reverie. His tone lowers, rough with desire, “Yes.” The mattress dips behind you as he climbs on, getting close enough that you can feel the heat of his body. Your head falls forward as his large, calloused palm slides up your spine, heavy and possessive, to squeeze the back of your neck. “Look at you,” he says, sounding awed. “My good girl with her ass up and her needy little pussy drippin’ for me. I’ve never felt so fuckin’ lucky.” His hands move to smooth over the curves of your backside before he grabs handfuls of the meaty globes hard enough that it borders on painful. “You’re perfect—you’re so fuckin’ perfect. But you know what else you are?”

You hear him spit onto his fingers, slicking up his cock before he slides it through your wet folds to get it even wetter. Then he’s pressing the fat tip against your aching entrance, teasing it, your breath catching in your throat.

“What?” you whisper.

“Mine.”

He drives into you, sheathing himself in one hard thrust that knocks the air from your lungs, your body jerking forward from the impact.

A guttural groan rumbles from Joel’s chest, his hands gripping your hips even tighter, holding you in place. He’s stretching you to your limit, filling you so completely that it’s hard to think, your fingers curling into the blankets.

You’ve never been more thankful for foreplay, that he took the time to get you ready to take him. He feels massive inside you, and so fucking good, pressing against all of the right spots. At the thought of how it’s going to feel when he’s pounding into you, your cunt clenches around him.

“Don’t,” he says through gritted teeth. “Don’t move.”

It’s clear he wasn’t lying when he said he hadn’t been with anyone in quite some time. With his breaths turning ragged and his hips twitching from holding himself back, the man is fighting for his life not to come. Enough time passes that you’ve grown used to his dick, or as used to it as you can get with how big it is. What matters is that it’s not as overwhelming as it initially seemed.

You look back at Joel, catching him with his eyes squeezed shut, jaw tight, and sweat glistening on his brow.

“Need a minute?” you ask.

He cracks his eyes open. “You’re so fuckin’ tight and warm.”

“You’re just big.”

“Am I?” He smirks.

You roll your eyes. “I’ve stroked your ego enough today. And hey, if you finish early, no shame. My pussy has that effect on some men.”

From your previous dalliances with older men, if they hadn’t fucked in a while, the first round usually went fast, something they expected so they’d get you off beforehand. After that, they could go for as long as you wanted.

His eyes narrow. “Are you callin’ me old?”

You grin. “All I’m saying is you might not have the stamina you once had, and that’s totally cool.”

He moves faster than you expect, gasping when he shoves your shoulders down, forcing your chest to the mattress, with your spine arched and ass up. In the blink of an eye, he’s got your arms pinned behind your back, his large hand easily wrapped around both of your wrists, holding them there in one rough fist.

“I told you that mouth of yours was gonna get you in trouble,” he mutters, angling his hips.

He pulls out of you halfway and slams back in, the force stuttering your breath.

One thing you’ve learned about Joel is you shouldn’t challenge him unless you want to be fucked within an inch of your life, as was happening right now. There’s no teasing, no slow buildup—he sets up a punishing pace from the start, the new angle absolutely devastating with his cock hitting something so divine inside you you’re seeing stars.

“Joel, fuck—” you cry out. “Oh, fuck.”

It feels like he’s taking you apart piece by piece, coming undone by how he’s filling and fucking you, how he owns you. He wasn’t wrong when he said you were his. He could have you any way he wants, and right now, he’s proving why he gets that honor.

“You’re gonna feel me tomorrow,” he grits out between thrusts. “Every time you move, you’ll remember who this pussy belongs to.”

His grip tightens on your wrists, using your arms as leverage, dragging you back onto his cock with every thrust. Each stroke is deeper than the last, your cunt greedy for every inch of him. You can’t think, you can’t breathe, you’re completely at his mercy as another orgasm starts to take shape in your core.

Finding out that not only is he handsome, polite, and a good father but that he also fucks, has made you determined to lock him down and make him yours.

He has you gasping now, your knees shaking hard enough you’re worried they’ll give out. Joel’s rhythm is brutal and unforgiving, his cock hitting so deep you swear you can feel him in your guts. Every push and pull of his hips is working you higher and higher. You’re so fucked out of your mind that all you can focus on are the sensations: his thick cock hammering into you, the burn in your thighs, the strain in your arms, the sweat coating your face and back, your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

The pressure in your belly builds, your body trembling.

He says something above you that you don’t make out, smacking your ass to get your attention. The sting has you sucking in a breath, your pussy clamping down on him.

“Answer me,” he orders. “Is this what you wanted? You wanted to be fucked like this?”

“Y-yes,” you choke out. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

“I’m not stoppin’ until you beg me to, and you say you’re mine.”

Noise echoes off your bedroom walls. The old bedframe creaks under you, the worn bedsprings squealing with each thrust, skin slapping skin, the wet suck of your used cunt, moans, and ragged breaths—a symphony of debauchery.

All you can do is take it, your back bowed, arms pinned, getting shoved forward into the sheets every time he fucks into you. He’s worked you up to the point that the coil in your belly is close to snapping, you just need—

Joel gives you another taste of his strength, pulling you up against his chest with little effort. His pace doesn’t wane, his cock working in and out of you, holding you close with an arm over your chest and another across your stomach.

His lips press to the shell of your ear, feeling his hot, panting breath. “I know you’re close,” he rasps. “Can feel you squeezin’ me. Say it. Tell me you’re mine and I’ll let you come.”

You grab onto his arm that’s locked against your breasts, nodding your head frantically. “I’m yours, Joel,” you gasp. “I’m fucking yours. I’ll always be yours. Please, let me come. Please.”

His hand on your stomach goes to the apex of your thighs, pinching your clit. You mewl, jerking in his hold.

“This pussy is mine, too, isn’t it?” he asks.

“Yes, it’s yours. Your pussy, your girl, I’m all yours, only yours. Please, Joel. Please, let me come.”

“Good girl.” He kisses behind your ear. “Come for me. Let me have it.”

A cry rips from your throat as he circles your clit, his other hand on your breast rolling your nipple between his fingers, his cock still pounding into you. It’s everything you need, setting you off and over the edge. The coil snaps, pleasure crashing through your body, sobbing his name over and over again, your nails digging into the skin of his forearm to tether you to earth. Your cunt spasms around him, clenching down on him hard enough it slows him to a stop.

He groans in your ear. “That’s it.” His grip tightens around you. “That’s my fuckin’ girl. Come for me, baby.”

You collapse against him, boneless. It’s Joel’s arm wrapped around your middle that holds you steady through the aftershocks when all you want to do is fall forward onto the mattress and rest your eyes. Your breaths are coming out ragged, your heart hammering so hard it feels like you’ve outrun a horde of infected.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, then another to the side of your neck. His free hand rubbing comforting circles on your hip.

You don’t speak. You’re not even sure you could if you wanted to.

You’re still clutching his arm, and he doesn’t pull out; he stays nestled inside you, keeping you full after ruining you in the best way. Having him so close and surrounding you is the only thing that grounds you, the room quieting as you catch your breath.

He waits a beat for you to come down before he asks, “Still with me, sweetheart?”

You reach up behind you to thread your fingers into his sweat-damp hair, letting out a shaky exhale. “Yes.”

He nuzzles the crook of your neck. “I didn’t go too hard?”

The softness is wholly unexpected. He’s holding you like you’re something precious, pressing reverent kisses to your skin and quietly checking in. It makes you like him even more and evokes a certain feeling that tightens your chest with emotion. Is it tenderness? Or is it that he’s treating you like more than a warm body to fuck? Maybe it’s both. Whatever it is, the ache you feel behind your ribs is almost as overwhelming as the orgasms he’s coaxed from you.

“No. I can take it,” you answer.

He hums in agreement and kisses a spot below your ear. “You took it really fuckin’ well.”

You smile. “You dished it out really fuckin’ well.”

“You got anythin’ to say about my stamina?”

The question makes you snort. “I apologize for doubting your stamina. To be honest, I’m a little shocked that you haven’t come yet.”

“Almost did, when you came. Took a whole helluva lot not to.”

“Well, color me impressed, old man.”

He pinches your hip, and you giggle. “Call me that again, and I’ll make sure you can’t walk for a week.”

“Is that a promise?”

“That fuckin’ mouth of yours.”

“You love it.”

He sighs. “Do you wanna stop or keep goin’?”

His arm is wrapped around your middle. He’s still hot and hard inside you, keeping you deliciously stretched. Obviously, you want to keep going, but there’s something you want to do for him.

“Oh, I’m gonna get you off.”

You untangle his arms from your body and crawl forward, his cock slipping out of you with an obscene wet sound that has you sucking in a breath and Joel groaning. You get up onto your knees and shuffle in place to look at him.

“Sit down,” you order, and point at the spot beside you on the bed. He raises an eyebrow, and you roll your eyes. “Do you want to come with my tits in your face or not?”

That gets his cute little ass moving up the bed. He pauses when he’s next to you, his hands framing your face as he gives you a kiss that leaves you a little dizzy when he breaks away. He snags your four pillows, using them to cushion his back against the headboard, his legs sprawled out, arms folded behind his head, watching you with hungry eyes.

He looks at home in your bed as if he’s been here hundreds of times and not only once.

And god, is he a sight to behold. A rosy pink flush rising from his chest to his cheeks, his hair tousled, skin gleaming from perspiration, and between his legs, his thick cock slick with your come and still rock hard.

You straddle his hips. “Boob guy?”

The second they’re within reach, he’s cupping them in his large palms.

He huffs, amused, crookedly smiling. “What makes you think that?”

“Hmmm, let’s see. You checked them out at the door, buried your face in them on the couch, and you couldn’t keep your hands off them while you were literally being smothered by my pussy, and fucking me six ways to Sunday.”

Joel’s chuckle turns into a choked ‘fuck’ when you guide his cock back inside you, slowly sinking down his shaft inch by inch. He shuts his eyes for a moment, his jaw flexing. You loop your arms around his neck, bottoming out, and fuck, he feels even deeper like this.

“You got me,” his voice sounds strained. “Fuckin’ love them.” His head dips to flick your nipple with his tongue, then kisses the curve, giving the other the same treatment. He sits back to meet your gaze. “Fuckin’ love how pretty you look sittin’ on my dick, too. You gonna ride me, baby?”

Leaning forward, you kiss the line of his stubbled jaw to whisper in his left ear. “I’m gonna ride you into the sunset, handsome—and you get free rein of my tits.”

He grabs your chin, moving your face in front of his to crush his lips against yours, kissing you needily. His tongue plunders your mouth as you start moving on his lap, slow circles at first, savoring how his cock drags along your walls. Joel lets out the tiniest whimper, his palms skimming down to grip your ass. He kisses the underside of your jaw and down your neck, sucking hard on your pulse point—you gasp, your fingers pushing into the mess of waves at the back of his head.

“You’re too fuckin’ good to me,” he says with his lips on your throat.

“You deserve it,” you breathe.

He isn’t going to last very long with how he’s throbbing inside you, so thick and desperate. You’re pretty sure that if you bounce on his dick with your breasts in his face and talk dirty to him, you can get him off in under two minutes. Hell, maybe you could do it in one. You decide to make it a challenge for yourself.

Planting your knees into the mattress, you grip his shoulders for leverage and start moving with purpose. You rise until only the tip of him remains, then slam back down, in quick succession, again and again and again. It’s hard and fast, clenching around him on the upstroke to make it even better.

He groans under you, fingers clawing into your ass like he’s hanging on for dear life. You pry them off as you continue working yourself up and down, putting his big hands on your tits.

“Fuck, baby,” his words come out ragged, his eyes glued to your chest.

“You like that?” you pant. “Your cock buried so fucking deep inside me while you play with my tits?”

“Yes.”

He teases your stiff nipples with calloused thumbs, and he can’t help himself, leaning in to seal his mouth over one pebbled peak. He greedily sucks, the pleasure sparking through you, stuttering your rhythm for a moment. You keep going and are ready for it when he moves to your other breast, his tongue swirling around the hard bud.

You sound breathless. “You’re close, aren’t you?”

He doesn’t want to let your nipple go, so he hums his affirmative that vibrates against your skin.

It’s slippery between your legs, his dick sliding easily in and out of your pussy. You speed up, becoming just as ruthless as he was, using him like he used you, fucking him at the same punishing pace. Your thighs collide with his in a sharp, wet smack that echoes off the walls, the bed creaking loudly. Your nipple pops out of his mouth, and he grabs your ass again for something to hold onto. “Gonna fuckin’ kill me,” he groans. He looks up at you, his eyes wild and glazed over. There’s no mistaking he’s absolutely wrecked and barely holding it together.

It makes you smile seeing him so undone. “Can’t take it, baby?”

“I can—fuck,” he gasps, his eyes squeezing closed for a split second. He swallows hard. “Fuckin’ ruin me.”

“With pleasure.” You ignore how your thighs burn and the bedframe squeaks. He’s your focus, he’s all that matters. You watch his face as you ride him, how it contorts when you bear down on him. You memorize every detail, every sound, every little thing that makes him tick and fall apart. His attention is back on your heaving breasts. “I want you to come inside me,” you tell him through panted breaths. “I want you to fill me up, make me drip. I wanna feel every last drop inside me. Can you do that for me, handsome? Can I have your come? Please, Joel?”

His glassy eyes snap to yours, and that’s all it takes.

It’s game over.

He surprises you when he sits up just enough to grab you with one arm around your back, the other cradling your head, dragging you down into a kiss as he comes. It’s desperate and messy, his lips crashing into yours, a groan rumbling from his chest, swallowing the whimper you make as you feel his cock thicken and jerk, the pulsing heat flooding your depths. Each spurt makes your cunt clamp down around him on reflex. He holds you there, locked in the kiss as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go, his whole body beneath you trembling. You roll your hips, slower than before, grinding, drawing out every last wave for him to give you everything he’s got.

Then—

CRACK.

The ancient bedframe finally gives out.

With a deafening groan of protest and a sharp snap, the entire mattress drops six inches on one side, sending you both lurching sideways with surprised gasps. You’re straddling him, leaning a little to the left, Joel breathless and stunned under you. You look at the current state of your bed, then at him, somehow still balls-deep inside you, his hair a mess, his pretty face dazed, and cheeks flushed.

“You broke my fucking bed.”

His expression switches from shocked to offended, his eyebrows cinching together. “Excuse me, I broke your bed? Baby, you were ridin’ me like a fuckin’ mechanical bull.”

“After you fucked me into the mattress. Either way, it’s your fault. No one has ever broken my bed before.”

“No one has ever fucked you like me before.” He looks smug about it, too.

“Touché.” Your attention turns to the bed again, frowning. “Fuck, I’m gonna have to sleep with my mattress on the floor. With making the cake and working, I won’t be able to fix this for a few days.”

“I’ll fix it tomorrow.”

You look at him. “You don’t have to. It’s fine. I can probably get one of the handymen to do it when I’m free.” There are a handful of knowledgeable men who help fix things around town—Tommy is one of them.

“I said, I’ll fix it tomorrow. You don’t need a handyman when I used to be a fuckin’ contractor.”

That has you perking up. “A contractor?”

“Yeah.” He takes a moment to get comfortable, keeping you atop him while he scoots down the lopsided bed and arranges your pillows to prop up his head and shoulders. “C’mere,” he says, pulling you down to lie half on top of him, his softened cock slipping out of you. Your ear is pressed over his heart, hearing the steady beat, his arm around you with his hand on your hip.

“It’s sexy that you used to be a contractor,” you say. Your palm is resting on his stomach, and he covers it with his free hand. “I’m just going to make the assumption that was back when you were in Texas, and since it gets pretty hot there, did you work with your shirt off often…?”

He’s amused. “Yes. Especially in the summer.” He’s drawing imaginary shapes on your hip.

“What I’d pay to see that.”

“Well, you’re makin’ the cake for free—”

“Not free,” you interrupt, lifting your head to look at him, resting your chin on his pec. “I’m making the cake in exchange for you eating my pussy like a champ.”

He huffs, meeting your gaze. “Now you are, but before, the shit we agreed on for you to make the cake was nothin’. It would’ve taken me no time at all to get, so you were makin’ it for free.”

“More like half-off to non-smugglers.”

“Then you need to re-evaluate what your skills are worth ‘cause you’re sellin’ yourself short.”

“You are very sweet, but I promise the deal I made you was only for you. A chocolate cake with basically a day’s notice? Come on, I’d want some good shit for that. Coffee, painkillers, antibiotics, ammunition, a firearm—what I asked you to get wouldn’t even pay for the chocolate, let alone a whole cake.”

He’s frowning, his finger pausing on your skin. “Then why would you agree to so little from me?”

You smile. “A weakness for single older dads.”

“You got a lot of those around here?”

“Nope,” you pop the ‘p.’ “You’re a rare breed, and the reason why, if I’m yours, then you are mine. I do not share.”

“I don’t either.”

“Perfect.”

“Glad we got that out of the way. Can we go back to talkin’ about me bein’ a contractor?”

“A sexy, shirtless contractor?”

“Yes. What I was goin’ to say before you interrupted me is that you were so kind about the cake, that if you wanted, I can fix your bed without a shirt on.”

“Can that be standard when you fix anything around my apartment?”

He smiles. “If that’s what you want.”

“Oh, I want it. Also, may I make the request that the bed be extra-reinforced? We will be testing it out when you’re done.”

“Is that right?”

“Yep.”

“You’re gonna fuckin’ wear me out with how much you want my cock.”

“Your mouth, too. I’d also like to see what your fingers are like.”

“Jesus Christ.” His fingertip starts making shapes on your hip again. “I wanna know more about you than just what you like in bed. How long have you lived in Jackson?”

“Seven years.”

“You got any family?”

“Biological? No. Lost my parents and little sisters when I was about twelve. Typical tragic backstory where I was the lone survivor. You know the bartender, Seth?”

“Yeah.”

“He and his wife found me and raised me with their kids. I was an adult by the time they decided to come out this way, and they told me I was old enough to make my own choice on whether I’d follow them or not. Obviously, I did. They may not be my blood relatives, but they’re still my aunt and uncle, which took me some years to label them as such. It’s hard when you remember your family, and they could never replace my parents. Was Ellie close with her mom and dad?”

He frowns. “She didn’t have parents, or at least ones she knew. She was raised by FEDRA in Boston. I don’t think that girl knows what it’s like to be loved by a parent, or anyone, for that matter.”

“From what you’ve told me, I think you’re doing a great job of showing her what it’s like to have a loving father, or a loving parent in general. The cake was a great idea. It’s so sweet and thoughtful. Do you have a present for her?”

“Before I come over here tomorrow night to take care of your bed and have that drink with you, I’ll be spendin’ my day fixin’ up a guitar for her.” He’s fondly smiling. “I finished gettin’ all the parts I needed today—even traded your uncle for a piece of bone I’ll use for the saddle—”

“I know nothing about guitars. What’s the saddle?”

“But you know what one looks like, right? An acoustic guitar?”

You picture one in your head. “Yes.”

“Okay, so you know the part near the bottom of the body where the strings are anchored? Where they’re pinned in?”

“Yes.”

“That’s the bridge. The saddle sits on the bridge. It’s usually made of bone or plastic and holds the strings up at the right height and helps them stay in tune when you play.”

“I think I know what you’re talking about.”

“Good. So, got the bone, new strings, and I’ll clean and shine the rest of the metal parts. She has a thing for moths, and I’m gonna try my damndest to carve one into the fretboard—that’s the guitar neck with all the metal frets and dots to guide your fingers when you’re playin’? I’m gonna put it right at the top below the headstock, where the turning pegs are.”

“I can’t believe you don’t think you’re a good dad. The lengths you go to for this child. She’s really lucky to have you.”

“Maybe.”

“She is. Do you play?”

“Since I was about half her age.”

“You’ll have to play me something sometime.”

“I will, but don’t ask me to sing. I’m fuckin’ awful at it.”

“I have a hard time believing that. Is that your only hobby?”

“No. I also do woodworkin’.”

“Like wooden figurines?”

“Yeah.”

“You gonna make me one?”

“What’s your favorite animal?”

“Ummm—” You have to think about it for a second. “Maybe otters? I think it’s cute when they hold hands while sleeping.”

“I’ll make you a pair of otters then.”

You smile. “Just like that, you’re gonna woodwork me a couple of tchotchkes?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “Gives me somethin’ to do when I’m home from work, and Ellie’s out bein’ a kid.”

“If you ever want some company, I’d be happy to hang out with you while you do your thing. I’ll also watch movies with you, go horseback riding, and you could even help me make cakes.” You suddenly feel unsure of yourself. “Unless you’re not interested in any of that and you’re just looking for an exclusive sex partner.”

“I told you I don’t do fuck buddies or casual shit.”

“So, you want to date me?”

“If you’ll have me.” He lifts your hand from his belly to kiss your knuckles. “I’d understand if you didn’t want people knowin’. though.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Why wouldn’t I want people to know I’m dating you?”

“Because I’m old.”

“Once again, I do not give a fuck that you are—how old are you?”

He takes a deep breath and says on the exhale, “Fifty-six.”

“Once again, I do not give a fuck that you are fifty-six. You’re hot and sweet, and I’d want everyone to know you’re mine.”

He smiles. “Yeah?”

“Yes. There’s just one little thing we need to figure out.”

“What’s that?”

“How long do you wait until you tell Ellie?”

“After her birthday. Maybe in a week or two to see how things go between us.”

“Solid plan.” You lean up and peck him on the lips.

“What about you? You got any hobbies?”

“Mostly baking. I also collect records and love watching movies.”

“When I go out again, I’ll find you more records and movies.”

“That’s sweet of you, but you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. I do have a question.”

“I’ll hopefully have an answer.”

“I know you like sex—”

“Love,” you correct. “Love sex very much.”

“Yes, I know you love sex very much, and you said you weren’t seein’ anyone. Do I need to worry about any former, uh, paramours?”

“Wanting to fight you for my bed?”

“Yes…”

“No. The few guys in town are all married now, and there are a couple of traders who stop by every once in a while who’ll be disappointed, but they won’t step on your toes.”

“I know it’s none of my business, but why didn’t any of the men here wanna marry you…?”

“Oh. I guess we should probably discuss this now, rather than having me blindside you down the road. I’d like to have a family one day, and they were all done with babies and raising kids. They married women closer to their own age who felt the same way. So, if that’s a dealbreaker, you need to let me know now.”

He’s quiet as he thinks about what you’ve said. Nerves swirl in your belly. You’re hoping and praying this isn’t the end.

“I had a daughter,” he finally tells you. “Sarah. She was my pride and joy, my everythin’. She died in my arms twenty years ago on the night of the outbreak. It broke me. I was a shell of a man from that point on, and then Ellie came into my life. I was hired to transport her across the country, but things, uh, didn’t work out when I got her to her destination. So I brought her here to Jackson, where we’d be close to Tommy, and she’d get to have a somewhat normal life as a kid.

“For twenty years, I swore to myself I’d never bring another child into this godawful world.” At his admission, your heart plummets. “Was really fuckin’ careful when I’d fuck to limit the risk as much as possible, too, which meant I never finished inside my partner. I never had the desire to, or would ever humor the idea.”

Now, you’re confused. “If you’re so anti-creampies, why is your come dripping out of me as we speak?”

He smiles and caresses your cheek with a gun-calloused palm. “Because in all of my fifty-six years on this planet, the happiest I’ve ever been is when I’m a dad. I fuckin’ love bein’ a father, and I know I’m too old to even be thinkin’ about babies, but if it happened? I wouldn’t be upset about it. I’d welcome it.”

He’s perfect, and you’ve never wanted a man more.

“I know we’ve only known each other for less than a day, but marry me.” Joel chuckles. “I’m serious. Make me your wife. I will fuck your brains out, have as many babies as you want, bake you delicious things, and treat Ellie like she’s my own kid. You’re everything and more that I want in a partner, and I think we’d be good together.”

His thumb strokes over the apple of your cheek. “I’m flattered by your offer, sweetheart. I truly am, and have half a mind to accept it, but marriage isn’t somethin’ you rush into. I know most everyone does these days with how uncertain everythin’ is, but I’d like to take my time to court you properly before we decide to get married.”

You sigh. “If you insist.” You glance up at the clock on your bedside table; the red numbers show it’s after ten p.m. Your gaze returns to his. “We’ve got less than two hours before you need to head home, Cinderella. Would you be up for another, softer, maybe sensual round—I’m thinking missionary—then we can shower, you can help me get my mattress onto the floor, and take off? Or do you want to shower, help me get my mattress onto the floor, and hang out in the living room, watching a movie or something until you need to leave?”

“Another round, we shower, we leave your bed alone, and you come home with me instead of sleepin’ on the floor.”

“To your house, where Ellie is…?”

“I’ll sneak you in. She spends most of her time in her room anyway. She won’t know you’re there.”

“If you want to hold off on her knowing about me, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

You don’t know how he does it. One minute, you’re lying half on top of him, and the next, he’s got you beneath him on your back, his hips cradled by your thighs. He kisses your clavicle, saying into your skin, “It’ll be fine.” His lips trail up your throat, making you shiver when he sucks on your pulse point, his cock hardening against your core. “Come home with me.” Joel continues his journey, laving kisses along the underside of your jaw to nip at your chin. He hovers his face over yours, searching your eyes. “Will you?”

“Only if you’re sure.”

“Quit your worryin’. I told you, it’ll be fine. She’ll have no idea.”

“Okay, then. I’ll go with you.”

He smiles. “Good girl.”

Joel wasn’t kidding about sneaking you into his house. That’s how you find yourself freshly fucked, showered, and clothed, creeping up a dark staircase behind him and into a hallway, where he signals for you to stay because Ellie’s door is open. He walks over to her doorway, leaning in it like he’s done it a hundred times before, the light shining on his face showing that fond smile he always has when he talks about her.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Hey, Joel.”

“You have a good day?”

“Scooping horse shit?” You have to hold in your laugh. “Not really, but afterward, Jesse and I went to Dina’s to watch a movie.”

Jesse and Dina are good kids.

“What movie?”

“Star Wars. The first two, but I wasn't really paying attention. We were too busy joking around and trying to throw popcorn into each other’s mouths.”

“What’d you do after that?”

“We went and had dinner. Did you get some of the apple pie? It was really fucking good. I think the peach cobbler is still my favorite, though.”

You also made the peach cobbler. Ellie has good taste. It’s your favorite, too.

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“Well, hopefully it’ll come ‘round again soon.”

Once traders come through with more peaches, you’ll be able to. It’s adorable watching him interact with her and seeing how much he clearly loves her.

“I sure hope so. How was your day?”

“Good. They had me out patrollin’, and I went through some houses to see if I could find anythin’ good. Did you get the tapes I left on your desk?”

“I did! I listened to the Backstreet Guys, or whatever the fuck they’re called—people used to like that shit?”

Is she talking about the Backstreet Boys?

Joel chuckles. “Sarah loved them.”

“She usually has great taste in music,” Ellie replies, “but I’m not sure about this one.”

“Well, I’ll tell you right now, NSYNC is similar—” She is talking about the Backstreet Boys, and how very ‘good dad’ of Joel to be familiar with the music his child loves. “—but I think you’ll enjoy the Halican Drops albums. That was Sarah’s favorite band. I’ve been lookin’ forever to find you their music, and I hit the jackpot today when I came across a kid’s room that hadn’t been picked clean.”

“Oh, sweet. I’ll listen to them before bed. Thanks, Joel.”

“You’re welcome, kiddo. Don’t stay up too late. You gotta be up early to scoop more horse shit.”

She groans. “God, I fucking hope not. Can you ask Tommy to assign me to anything else? Like anything else.”

His voice softens. “Yeah, I’ll do that in the mornin’. Night, Ellie.”

“Night, Joel.”

He pulls her door closed and waits ten seconds, then motions for you to come to him. He grabs your hand when you’re within reach and leads you further down the hall to his room at the end, where he opens the door and flips on the light. He ushers you in, closing the door and locking it behind you.

The first thing you notice is that it smells like him—crushed thyme, gun oil, and something uniquely Joel, mixed with the scent of freshly cut wood. Then you take in the area, the paintings that depict cowboys, his woodworking workstation, what you assume is Ellie’s future guitar leaning against it, another one hanging on his wall, and further in the room, a third you think is the one he actually plays. The piece of bone he got from your uncle is sitting atop the worktable, along with little metal parts and his tools.

“I like your room,” you tell him. “It’s cozy.” He’s got a comfy-looking accent chair you could imagine him reading in and a desk by the door with a drawing of a moth on top of it—what he plans to carve into Ellie’s guitar.

He spins you to face him. “Thanks.” He grabs the hem of your shirt and pulls it up off your arms, followed by your sports bra. “You’re my first guest.”

He grunts, crouching down in front of you. Joel gets his fingers under the waistband of your leggings and underwear, tugging them down. You hold onto his shoulders for balance as you step out of them, and he removes your socks, leaving you completely nude.

“Is that why you were adamant about me coming over tonight? So you could finally christen your bed?”

He stands back up, one of his knees popping. “No.” Joel kisses you, and you hold his scruffy cheeks as he works open the buttons of his flannel. He shrugs it off and unbuckles his belt, his lips leaving yours to get his jeans undone and shoved down, followed by his boxer briefs.

“When I said ‘christen your bed,’ I meant have sex in it for the first time. Why are we naked if we’re not gonna fuck?”

All of his clothes are on the floor, including his socks, and instead of answering your question, he straightens and captures your lips once more, his hands gripping your waist. He kisses you as he walks you backward toward his neatly made bed, and when you’re beside it, he breaks away to pull back the blankets.

“Get in.” It’s not a suggestion, and you do as he says, getting under the sheets and turning on your side, propping your head up with your arm to watch what he’s doing.

“The lack of clothes and kissing is giving me mixed signals.”

“What do you mean?” he asks on his way to turn off the overhead light.

“When I’m naked with someone and we’re making out, that’s the lead-up to fucking.”

The room goes dark, save for the moonlight slipping through the closed blinds, offering some illumination as he returns, going around the bed and crawling in on the other side. You turn over to look at him as he gets to the middle of the bed. “C’mere.” He reaches toward you, and you scoot like he asks until he’s able to pull you up against the solid warmth of his front. He curls around you, one arm draped over your waist, the other under your head, his large palm resting gently on your spine. “Have you ever slept with someone?” he asks.

You blink up at him in the dark, quietly replying, “We literally just fucked twice.”

“No.” He brushes his thumb lightly over your back. “Not sex. I mean, have you ever just fallen asleep with someone?”

The question has your breath catching a little, but not from arousal. No, this is something completely different. It’s warmer. Sweeter, and it makes your chest ache for some reason.

Your mouth opens to reply, but no words come out immediately.

It has you thinking back, really thinking back. Sure, you had nights where men stayed over. Nights when you were tangled in sweaty sheets with someone who’d be gone by morning. But this? Naked and held? No rush. No expectations. Just simple, quiet skin-on-skin closeness?

“No,” you finally admit. “Never.”

Joel hums a contented sound in his throat. He kisses the top of your head, his facial hair lightly scratching your forehead. “I hope you like it, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

You lie there, stunned. You assumed he asked you here for the same reason men before him invited you into their beds—to fuck, and maybe some post-sex cuddling before your clothes are back on and the mood fades.

But Joel doesn’t just want you. He wants you with him, here like this, in a way that feels much more intimate than sex. He doesn’t just wreck you with his body; it’s the way he chooses you when he doesn’t have to, how he holds you like you matter, like you’re his. With him, you’re not being used, you’re being kept.

That dawning realization sinks in, curling around something tender behind your ribs.

Your voice is small when you whisper, “You didn’t want me here for sex, did you?”

“No,” he answers. “I wanted you here ‘cause I’ll sleep better with you next to me.”

Your throat tightens, staring into the dark, feeling a little overwhelmed because you don’t know what to do with all of this affection settling over you.

“Oh.”

Joel chuckles, pulling you in tighter, tucking your head under his chin. “Yeah. Oh.” The room goes quiet, then he adds, “Also, don’t want you breakin’ my bed.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he laughs into your hair. “You ride like a fuckin’ hellcat. That old frame of yours didn’t stand a chance.”

His statement has your mouth dropping open, a mix of offense and flattery.

“That’s rude and slanderous because we both agreed you broke the bed.”

“We agreed on no such thing. Tomorrow, I will even show you proof that you rode me into the sunset and your bed straight into the ground by where it snapped.” He kisses the top of your head again. “Gotta reinforce both our beds before I let you do that again. I think your couch could take the abuse, though, so that’s an option.”

He has you biting back a smile. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You wanna marry me.”

“I’m not so sure I do now.”

“You do.”

“Maybe.”

“Six months.”

“Six months, what?”

“If we’re still together in six months, I’ll marry you.”

Your heart rate increases. “Really?”

“Yes. Now, get some sleep.”

Masterlist

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

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #hbo the last of us #the last of us #joel miller the man that you are #that's mine #thats my man #my old man #thats my husband

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sweetyyhippyy · 3 days ago

Text

A Dangerous Patrol. Joel Miller x fem!reader. *ANGST/FLUFF*

Summary: Joel’s fiancée gets paired with the new guy for a patrol day. Unfortunately, Joel’s intuition about this guy is right.

TW: *This fic contains physical and verbal violence toward the reader, as well as attempts of sexual assault. If any of those have the potential of triggering you, please skip this fic.*

Word count: 3.8k

***

“Okay, I know your usual patrol partner is Wade, but now that we have more area we need to cover, we’re moving some partners around and splitting up the usual patrolmen and partnering them up with our new comers.” Amy says, waving a man about her age over.

“This is Scott, you’ll be patrolling with him until further notice. If things go well, he’ll be your permanent partner.”

“Nice to meet you.” She sticks her hand out to him.

“Yeah, good to meet you.” He shakes her hand, giving her a small, nervous smile.

Scott looked to be about her age, maybe a few years older. His hair was black as midnight, in a curly style mullet, no facial hair but it looked like he was trying to grow something.

Joel was already eyeing the man, his brain telling him that there wasn’t something right about this guy. His arms rested crossed against his chest as he watched his fiancée talk to the new patrolman, he blocked out all the noise in the room, wanting to hear what was so goddamn funny he said that made his fiancée laugh.

“Why do you look grumpier than usual?” Tommy sits next to his brother, elbowing him in the ribs playfully.

Joel shoots his brother an annoyed glance. “Who’s the new guy?” He motions his head toward Scott.

“Ah,” Tommy chuckles. “That’s why you’re grumpy.”

“Why’d they change her and Wade? At least I trusted him.”

“You trusted him to keep her safe or trusted him not to make a move on her?” He jokes, loving nothing more than teasing his older brother just like a younger brother should.

Joel grumbles under his breath, sitting up in his chair. “Both.”

“Wade is a strong patrolman, I mean he used to be a police chief. And she is one of the toughest chicks I’ve seen, knows how to shoot a gun, knows how to throw a punch. When we bring a newcomer in we have to put them with someone strong or else they’re going to end up lost or dead.”

He exhales through his nose in annoyance. “Don’t call my future wife a chick.” Joel gets up from his chair as he sees everyone gather their items for the start of patrol. He walks up to his fiancée, pulling her ponytail out from under her jacket.

She gasps softly, surprised at the touch. She turns her body, seeing her future husband and giving him a soft smile. “I know you’re annoyed about me getting partnered with the new guy.”

“You and Tommy both think I’m annoyed over this guy.”

“Are you not?” She raises her eyebrows in surprise.

Joel was skeptical of Wade for the first few days they were partnered together since she had a thing for older men clearly. He was a little protective over her but finding happiness after all the pain he had gone through made him more careful with her.

“W-well, I’m not saying that I’m over the moon you’re paired up with this guy.” He stutters over his words.

“There’s nothing to worry about, Joel. This guy honestly seems a little nervous about holding a gun.”

Joel shifts his boys to look at Scott, talking with Tommy. “Just watch him, okay? If you feel like something isn’t right with him, don’t be afraid to clip him.”

“I can’t shoot him, Joel.” She laughs, resting her hands on his chest. “I’ll be okay. I’ll see you in a few hours, okay.”

Joel meets her lips, kissing her quickly. “Be safe.”

“You too, handsome. Love you.” She squeezes his hand in hers.

“Love you too.”

***

Scott follows behind her, a rifle hanging behind his back as they walk on a mountain overlooking the town. The wind makes the weather unusually nippy for 10 o’clock in the morning. Each exhale she let out, her breath creating a plume of steam.

“You doing okay back there?” She asks, turning quickly to look at Scott.

“Yeah, fine. A lot colder than I thought it would be.”

“I’m hoping it’ll get a little warmer as the morning goes on or else we’re going to be popsicles by the time we go back to town.”

She wasn’t used to quiet patrols, her and Wade always talked to each other when they were together. Scott seemed like the shy type, barely making eye contact with her when they spoke.

“Where are you from originally?”

“Tacoma Washington. I was born and raised there, I was there when the outbreak happened and stayed there up until two months ago when I started trekking out here.”

“I’ve heard how bad the outbreak was out there. I’m surprised you stayed that long.”

“Well, I was locked up when the outbreak started. There was a prison guard that let us out when things started getting really bad about a month in.”

She wanted to ask what he was locked up for, but it was probably better she didn’t.

“Can we take a quick break? I just need a few minutes.” Scott digs into his jacket pocket and pulls out an inhaler, shaking it a few times before pressing the button and inhaling.

“Oh, yeah of course. We can take a little 10 minute break. I’m sorry, I have you over here in high elevation walking around for miles.” She leads him over to a resting spot, letting him sit on a large rock.

“I didn’t mean to slow us down.” He takes another puff from his inhaler before putting it back in his pocket.

“No, it’s totally okay. It’s your first day on patrol. I’m actually impressed you still have Albuterol these days.” She takes a seat next to him.

“Well, I’m not going to lie, after I was let out of prison, I went to all the pharmacies around where I lived and looted through their stuff and grabbed all the inhalers I could find. My asthma only gets bad when I’m being physically active.”

“You gotta do what you can to survive. We’ve all done stuff we’re probably not proud of to make it where we are today.”

They sit together for a while, taking in the scenery of the town. Winter was almost over, that meant things were slowly turning green and flowers would be blooming too.

“I couldn’t help but notice that older guy you kissed, that’s your boyfriend?”

“My fiancé actually.” She smiles. “He found me Colorado, I lost the group I had been with since the beginning and he brought me along with him.”

“No offence, but he looks like he’s old enough to be your dad or something.”

She tries to hide the inevitable eye roll from the statement everyone says after they find out she and Joel are together.

“He's too old for you.”

“She’s so young.”

“Can’t they find someone their own age?”

“They could be father and daughter with how big their age gap is.”

The people of Jackson have said it all, either to her and Joel’s faces, or behind their backs.

“We have a 20 year age gap, but it’s never bothered us. It seems to bother everyone else honestly.” She shrugs her shoulders, taking a drink from her canteen.

“You never wanted to be with someone your own age? I’m sure there’s things you want he can’t give you.”

“No. I’ve always been very happy with Joel.” She says matter of factly, her tone no longer friendly like it had been.

“I’m just saying, there’s not a lot of options during the end of the world.” Scott looks to her, scooting closer to her and his hand reaching up and resting on her thigh. “But now that you have a better option in front of you, why not take advantage.”

She shoves his hand off her, standing up quickly. “Do not touch me. I don’t know if you’re mistaking me being nice for me flirting with you, but I’m making it crystal clear right now; leave me alone. We’ll finish patrol, but I’m telling Amy we are not pairing up again. I’m going to make sure we’re still good out there. You can wait here, I’ll be within eye sight.”

She starts to get up, but Scott grabs the bag on her back, pulling her down onto her butt. “Ow, what the fuck is wrong with you?” She tries to get back on her feet, but Scott climbs on top of her, keeping her pinned down.

Scott tries to pull open her jacket, but he’s met with her nails scratching his cheeks. Angry red welt marks immediately appear on his fair skin, one of the scratch marks bleeding slightly.

“No!” She screams from deep within her chest, trying to push him off her. “Get off me!” Her legs kick and dig into the soft dirt under her, trying to plant her feet to get leverage on him to fight back. She manages to punch him square in his nose, blood spurting all over himself and her.

He close fist punches her in her jaw twice, growing in anger. “Fucking bitch.” He mutters, grabbing tight hold of her cheeks and making her look at him. “Hit me again and I’ll fucking dump your body where nobody will be able to find you.”

Desperately, she tries to reach down to her boot for the knife she keeps inside of it. “No! Leave me alone! Leave me alone!” She yells. She turns her torso quickly, enough to knock him off her chest and onto the hard ground next to her.

She tries to scramble to her feet to run, but she feels his hand grab her boot, pulling her back down. Her shoe flies off as she lands, her knife landing inches away from them.

The wind gets knocked from her body as she lands hard on something hard on the ground. She can’t bring herself to scream for help or even scream no.

“I’ll fucking kill you.” Scott pulls on the strap of the rifle up to around her neck and tightening his hold. He kneels against her back with his full body weight, yelling obscenities at her.

She gasps loudly feeling the pressure around her neck and her vision starts to get spotty. “Stop!” Her voice rasps out. Her body wriggles against the dirt, trying to fight and reach for the knife.

Bright spots start to appear in her vision the tighter Scott’s hold gets, her body starting to give up fighting.

Scott takes advantage of her body no longer fighting him back, his hand resting on the fleshy part of her butt. “See, you don’t have to fight.” He’s distracted enough that he unknowingly lets her move just enough.

Finally her fingertips touch the handle of the knife, luckily able to grab it and hold it in her hand. “Off!” She raps out, throwing her hand behind her body and stabbing the blade into his thigh.

Scott yells but stays on top of her, pulling the knife out of his skin. He stands on his feet, grabbing her ponytail and forcing her onto her feet.

“Fuck you!” She screams at him, clawing at his arm as he drags her a few feet into the trees. The grip he has on her hair makes it feel like her scalp is on fire the way he’s pulling it.

Scott presses her back against a tree, his hand now wringing her neck while the bloody knife is in his hand and inches away from her face. His pupils are blown, his teeth tight in his mouth and chest puffing out. “All I’m asking for is a chance.”

She spits into his face, not caring if it was going to get her killed. “Get away from me.” She pushes his face away, her other hand balled up in a fist and punching whatever she could get her hands on.

The blade of the knife presses against her exposed collarbone, Scott cutting the skin slowly just a few inches.

“You better quit fighting me, the more you try and fight me, the worse it’s going to be for you.” His grip tightens around her neck, making her gasp for air.

Before she can do anything, she sees a man come from behind Scott and throw him to the ground, instantly pummeling him into the earth.

Another man comes from behind the tree, making her retreat a few steps away.

“It’s okay, I got you. We’re going to get you back to town, okay?” He says, reaching his hand out to her, letting her know he wasn’t going to hurt her.

***

“Here, honey, take these so your headache goes away.” Maria hands her two capsules of medicine and a cup of water.

She throws the medicine in her mouth she’s drinks the water quickly, swallowing the pills down. “Where’s Joel? I want Joel.” Her voice was hoarse from Scott choking her.

“He’s coming. He was a little further out on patrol today but we called him as soon as Daniel and David brought you in.”

She tried to keep her tears in, not wanting anyone in the room to see her break. She started at a spot on the floor, not bothering to look anyone in the eye as they tended to her wounds. If she focused on the ground, she could silence her mind enough to not cry.

“Can you tilt your head back a little so I can see the marks on your neck?” Louise, the town’s nurse gently speaks to her, giving her a friendly, genuine smile.

She leans her head back on the pillow, trying to clear her throat but she could still feel the scratchiness inside.

“They’re going to bruise, unfortunately. You might feel like you have a sore throat but that’ll go away in a few days. You also need to change the bandage on your knife wound two times a day.”

She nods her head in understanding, wincing when she feels herself breathe in deeply. “Something here hurts too.” She points under her shirt.

“Can I take a look?” Louise asks before touching her. She asks before slowly lifting her shirt up and inspecting her stomach. She finds a large circular bruise forming under her bra, a little cut in the middle and dry blood around it. “You must have landed on a rock or something, you have a bruise the size of a golf ball here.”

She winces feeling a cold ice pack press against her bare skin.

Maria holds her hand, running her thumb across her knuckles. “I’m so sorry, honey.” She whispers. “But you put up a hell of a fight, let me tell you.”

A loud bang makes all three of the women jump, looking toward the entrance to see Joel bust through the door, Tommy hot on his feet, holding his shoulder and whispering something in his ear.

She sits up in the bed, trying to get onto her feet but Louise and Maria both stop her.

“Hold on, you need to take it slow.” Maria murmurs to her, helping her lay back on the bed.

Joel’s face softens seeing her for the first time, all the anger he had on the way to her was gone and all he wanted to do was hold her and kiss her. “Hey, darlin’.”

Her eyes immediately water seeing him and hearing his voice. She sits up, waiting for him to come to her.

He sits on the edge of her bed, wrapping his strong arms around her body, holding her as close as possible. “I’m so sorry, baby.” He whispers softly, cradling her head. “I should’ve been there.”

She finally lets the tears go, crying into his shoulder, her body shaking along with her hands. “I should’ve listened to you.” She sobs.

“It’s not your fault. I’m just glad you’re okay.” Joel lets her cry, not saying anything other than “it’s okay.” In her ear to soothe her.

Louise and Maria leave the two of them alone, clearing out the rest of the clinic.

“Hey, look at me real quick.” Joel moves her head out of his chest, holding both sides of her cheek in his rough hands. He uses the pads of his thumbs to wipe her tears away, his eyes scanning her face. “Still beautiful.”

She rests her forehead on his, taking deep breaths trying to calm herself down. “I tried fighting back.”

“I know you did. They told me you stabbed him in the thigh, scratched his face up pretty nice. You did everything you could. He should have never touched you.” Joel notices her hands shaking like leaves, he grabs them, holding them in his.

“Where is he?” She questions.

“They won’t tell me. They're scared I’m gonna kill him, which if I find out where he is, I will. I knew there was something wrong with that mother fucker, I knew it.”

Her eyes sting again as new tears start to form, her gaze dropping from Joel’s. “He tried touching me.” Her voice is quiet and frail.

Joel tried not showing his anger, he bit at his inner lip, breathing in deeply through his nose. “God, I’m so sorry baby. I’m going to talk to Amy about only putting you with me or Tommy from now on. I don’t trust anyone else with making sure you’re safe on patrol.”

“Hey, I’m sorry to interrupt.” Tommy comes from behind Joel. It was the first time Tommy had seen her with all her bruises and cuts, his heart sank to his stomach immediately.

The first time Joel brought her around Tommy as his girlfriend officially, they got along great (Tommy joked it was because they were closer in age than Joel and her). He hadn’t seen his brother happy since Sarah had died, he was glad he found someone who could bring him joy in such a terrifying time.

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” Tommy mutters, reaching for her shoulder and rubbing it. “I need Joel for a few hours, can I steal him?”

“Tommy, I need to be with her right now.”

“Actually, Joel, I don’t mind taking her back to your place so she can get some rest.” Wade comes from behind Tommy. “Amy said the two of you aren’t on patrol rotation for the rest of the week so you two can be together.”

She can’t see Joel’s face, but she can tell he was looking at Wade skeptically, he surely wasn’t going to trust just anyone to be around her alone anymore. “Honey,” She reaches for Joel’s back. “I trust Wade to take me home. He’s always taken care of me. I just want to go home to our bed.”

“Will you stay with her until I get home?” Joel asks.

“Of course. I’ll take care of her, promise.”

“I’ll be home as soon as I can, okay? I love you.” He kisses her forehead lovingly before following Tommy out of the building.

***

She rolls over in bed, looking at the curtains that were still drawn from this morning, the sky totally black along with the bedroom. Her head was pounding still, her body feeling hollow and achy as she rolled onto her back with a groan.

Slowly she gets onto her feet, hobbling out of the bedroom and holding the walls down the stairs, whining as she goes down every step. It was the first time she felt the pain in her ankle, not being able to put any weight on it.

“Wade? Are you still here?” She rasps out, her voice practically gone.

“No baby, he left about an hour ago. I’m here.” Joel comes from the kitchen, helping her down the last few sets of steps. “You want to go lay on the couch?”

She shakes her head. “No, I need to move around. My body hurts a lot.”

“You still have to rest, baby. How about I sit on the couch with you at least?”

Her eyes adjust to the light in the kitchen finally, noticing Joel had the beginning of a black eye forming, her eyes trail down to his lip, the bottom of it split open with dried blood on the cut.

“Joel, what happened to your face?” She gently grips his chin, tilting his head down to inspect him better. “Did you get beat up?”

He gently moves her hand away from his face, clearing his throat. “Not entirely.”

She stares at him, waiting for him to explain himself.

“Tommy was able to get Scott alone, so I handled things.”

Her brows come together in confusion, her mind immediately going to the worst case scenario. “Handled things how? You didn’t… you didn’t kill him did you?” She whispers the last part as if there was someone else in the house.

“I should’ve. After what he did to you? I should have set him on fucking fire. I beat an apology outta him, we went a couple rounds and got a few swings on me. Told him if he ever came anywhere near Jackson again I would make sure he would never be able to see again.”

She inhales deeply, nuzzling herself in his chest for comfort. Her arms wrap around his waist tightly, squeezing him.

Ever since she met Joel 5 years ago, he had always made her feel safe. When he brought her along with him and Ellie to Jackson, he made sure she was always taken care of and once they fell in love with each other- which didn’t take long- everything he did was for her.

“Can I tell you something?” Joel gently touches her cheek with his thumb, careful not to touch any of the cuts or bruises on her face.

“I’ve told you about Sarah and how I lost her. Before I met you in Colorado, I hadn’t felt love since I’d been with Sarah’s mom. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something worse had happened to you out there with that asshole. I can’t go through losing someone who means the world to me. I’ll do anything I need to do to protect you, and I hope you know that.”

Joel’s eyes were wet with tears that he was blinking back, his gaze trails up and down her face, looking past the damage that sick fuck did to her.

“I know that, Joel, I know.” She nods her head softly. Her shaky hands cup his face, bringing his head down to rest against hers. “I’d do anything to protect you too, you’d never give me the chance, but,” She lets out a little laugh. “I never expected to fall in love with someone in an apocalyptic world, but I’m glad it was you.”

“I love you, darlin’.” He hugs her tightly, not wanting to let her go.

“I love you too, Joel.” She squirms a little against him, making an uncomfortable grunt. “But, you’re hurting my bruise.”

“Oh, shit. Sorry, sorry. Guess I can’t squeeze you like I’m used to.”

“I’ll heal soon, then you can squeeze me as much as I can handle.”

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