#the last of us

[tawnyevergreen]

me when the gay people love each other

[joelsrose]

Tangled in Paradise

my masterlist here!

Ahhhh here is chapter 1 of my new mini-series!! I am so freakin excited for you guys to read it, i've had so much fun writing it - to everyone waiting for my other stories thanks so much for being patient and i promise i will get to them! enjoy and let me know if you'd liked to be tagged in the next chapters xx

The marble counter was cool against under your skin, a welcome relief from the lingering heat of the day. You perched on the edge, scrolling through your phone with one hand, the other holding a burrito that was rapidly becoming your favorite part of the evening. Mimi, your cat, stretched luxuriously beside you, her fluffy tail flicking in idle disinterest as she basked in the low glow of the kitchen light.

Your thumb idly swiped up, Instagram reels flitting past like a mindless parade. A stupid AI-generated meme caught your attention—something ridiculous but hilarious enough to make you snort, burrito in hand.

The sound of a FaceTime notification cut through your laugh, your phone vibrating in your palm. The screen flashed with Maria’s name, her photo—a sunny candid of her grinning at a picnic—lighting up the display.

You swiped to answer.

Her face appeared, as vibrant and glowing as ever, framed by the golden light of her apartment. “Hey, girl!” she chirped, her voice carrying the kind of energy that made you suspicious.

“Hey, you,” you replied, taking a bite of your burrito mid-sentence. “Shouldn’t you be packing for your honeymoon in Hawaii or something?”

“It’s not a honeymoon,” Maria groaned, her eyes rolling so dramatically they could’ve done a full lap.

“Sure,” you drawled, giving her a knowing look. Maria and Tommy had been dating for a year and a half, and if anyone was going to get engaged in an annoyingly picture-perfect way, it was them. “But seriously,” you added, “don’t you leave in, like, two days?”

“Yeah, about that…” Her voice trailed off, her expression shifting to something between sheepish and conspiratorial.

You froze mid-chew. “Oh no. Are you guys okay? Don’t tell me you—”

“No!” she interrupted, waving her hands at the camera as if to swat the idea away. “God, you’re such a cynic.”

“Cynicism comes with being single,” you shot back, gesturing vaguely to your burrito.

She laughed, the sound warm and familiar. “Okay, so here’s the thing,” she said, leaning closer to her screen. “I have… a situation.”

“Go on,” you said, intrigued now.

Her sigh was long and theatrical. “For some reason, I let Tommy book our trip.”

“And?” you prompted, taking another bite.

“And the idiot accidentally booked a couples package,” she said, dragging out the words like they physically pained her.

You blinked, unfazed. “I don’t get it. You guys are a couple.”

“No, no,” she said, shaking her head so fast her hair whipped around her face. “He booked it for two couples. Four people.”

You nearly choked on your burrito, a laugh bursting from your chest. “Classic Tommy,” you said, grinning. “So? What’s the big deal? You’ve got a million couple friends. Pick one.”

“I’ve been asking around!” she huffed. “But everyone already has New Year’s plans, and the package is non-refundable.” She gave you a pointed look, her lips curling into a mischievous smile.

“Oh no,” you said immediately, holding up a hand. “If this is going where I think it’s going—”

“Would you want to come?” she asked, her tone overly sweet. “You’re my best friend. You’re legally obligated to say yes.”

You stared at her, incredulous. “Maria, in case it wasn’t painfully obvious, I’m single.”

“I know,” she said, rolling her eyes. “That’s why Tommy was going to ask his brother Joel to come along. That makes four people. Problem solved.”

You paused, brow furrowing. “Joel, huh?”

Maria nodded eagerly.

You thought about it for a moment. Joel. You didn’t know much about him—just snippets from Maria here and there. He worked with Tommy in construction, lived in Texas. You didn't even know what he looked like.

“I don’t know…” you hedged.

“Oh, come on,” Maria whined. “You’re not doing anything for New Year’s, and you know it. You’re just gonna sit at home, watch Bridget Jones’s Diary, and drink cheap wine with Mimi like you do every year.”

You glanced at Mimi, who stretched lazily, her tail flicking as if to agree. Maria wasn’t wrong.

“Plus,” she continued, her grin widening, “once we get there, you guys can do whatever you want. Hawaii! Beaches, cocktails, hot guys—live your best life.”

You sighed, the temptation starting to outweigh your resistance. A free trip to Hawaii with your best friend? Sand, sun, and maybe a chance to flirt your way into a memorable New Year’s Eve?

“Prettyyyyy please?” Maria hummed, drawing out the word in a way that made you laugh despite yourself.

“Okay,” you said finally, shaking your head. “I’m in.”

Maria let out a squeal of victory, throwing her hands in the air. “You’re the best! I’ll text you the details. Pack something cute!”

As the call ended, you set your phone down and looked at Mimi, who yawned lazily in response.

“Well,” you said, leaning back on the counter. “Looks like we’re skipping Bridget Jones this year.”

Hawaii, you thought. The idea felt distant, unreal. But as you glanced at the empty corner of your apartment where your suitcase sat gathering dust, you had a feeling this trip might just change more than your New Year’s plans.

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

Hawaii was breathtaking. The kind of beauty that made you forget how much your neck hurt from the long flight or how unreasonably sweaty you felt in the tropical heat.

You leaned your head against the open window of the taxi, letting the warm wind tangle through your hair as you gazed out at the scenery. Endless shades of green blanketed the mountains in the distance, framed by the electric blue of the ocean stretching out to the horizon. Palm trees lined the road like an army of dancers frozen mid-sway, their fronds whispering in the breeze.

Maria sat beside you, her voice animated as she gave Tommy a play-by-play update on your whereabouts. “Yep, we’re just pulling in now,” she said, twisting her body slightly to look at the approaching hotel. “Alright, bye, love you!”

You turned to her, sticking a finger down your throat in mock disgust.

“Shut up,” she said, rolling her eyes but smiling anyway.

The taxi turned into a long driveway lined with torch-lit paths and vibrant hibiscus flowers in full bloom. As the hotel came into view, you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning closer to the window.

It was like something out of a movie—a sprawling, open-air building with white stucco walls, wooden beams, and a terracotta-tiled roof. The entrance was framed by a massive archway, beyond which you could see a lush courtyard with fountains trickling water that sparkled in the sunlight.

A uniformed staff member waved the taxi forward, and your jaw nearly dropped as you took in the full view. The lobby was entirely open, its vaulted ceilings soaring toward the sky. Just beyond it, you could glimpse the infinity pool that seemed to spill directly into the ocean. The smell hit you next—salt air mixed with plumeria and something faintly sweet, like coconut.

“This is insane,” you said under your breath.

Maria beamed. “Right? This is so much better than the photos.”

The taxi slowed to a stop, and the driver hopped out to help you with your luggage. You tipped him generously and offered a polite “Mahalo,” feeling strangely self-conscious about whether you pronounced it right.

“Tommy already checked us in, so we can go straight to our room!” Maria practically bounced on her toes as she grabbed her carry-on. “Eeeeek, I’m so excited!”

“Me too,” you said with a grin, taking it all in. “And to think, you’ll be leaving here engaged.”

“Hey,” she said, giving you a mock glare. “Don’t jinx it.”

As you approached the entrance, a small group of staff members greeted you with warm smiles. A woman wearing a flowy dress in bright tropical prints stepped forward, holding a pair of leis made of fresh flowers. She draped one around Maria’s neck first, then yours, the cool petals brushing your collarbone as she said, “Aloha, and welcome.”

“Aloha,” you replied awkwardly, still feeling like an outsider in this slice of paradise.

Another staff member offered you both chilled glasses of pineapple juice, the condensation slicking your fingers. You took a sip and practically melted. It was fresh and sweet, with just the right amount of tartness.

“This is heaven,” Maria whispered as you followed the bellhop toward the elevator.

You couldn’t argue with her.

Everything about this place felt surreal—the golden light filtering through the palms, the faint hum of ukulele music from somewhere in the distance, and the soft roar of waves crashing against the shore. It was the kind of place where time seemed to slow down, urging you to forget the rest of the world existed.

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

“So,” Maria began, standing beside you in the elevator, glancing down at her phone. “Since it’s already…” she trailed off, squinting at the screen. “Five o’clock, how about we settle in, freshen up, and then have dinner around 6:30?”

“Sounds good,” you agreed, leaning back against the elevator wall, the faint scent of hibiscus and sea salt lingering in the air.

The elevator chimed softly, announcing your arrival at the designated floor.

You followed her as she led the way down the long, carpeted corridor, passing room numbers etched into sleek gold plaques.

“Aha!” she exclaimed, stopping in front of Room 712. “This is us.”

Us? you thought, a flicker of confusion crossing your face. But you let it slide, figuring she meant she and Tommy.

Maria slipped the key card into the slot with a practiced flourish, and the door opened with a soft click. You stepped in behind her, expecting a hotel room. Maybe a nice one—Maria had said Tommy splurged—but this wasn’t a room.

It was a suite.

No, not just a suite—a goddamn palace disguised as a hotel suite.

Your breath hitched as you took it all in. The entryway alone was larger than your living room back home, its polished marble floors gleaming under warm recessed lighting. Beyond it, the suite opened into an expansive living space with floor-to-ceiling windows that framed an unbroken view of the turquoise ocean. Sheer white curtains swayed gently in the breeze from the open balcony doors, where plush loungers and a private hot tub overlooked the horizon.

To your left, an oversized sectional couch sat in front of a sleek flat-screen TV, its armrest stacked with neatly folded, resort-branded towels. To your right, a dining table made of dark, glossy wood was set for four, complete with fresh flowers and an ice bucket chilling a bottle of champagne.

“Shit, Maria,” you breathed, turning to her with wide eyes. “This is insane.”

“I know!” she squealed, grabbing your hands and bouncing up and down like a kid at Christmas. “We’re gonna have the best time!”

You were about to ask where you’d be staying when a familiar voice cut through the moment.

“Hey, baby,” Tommy called, appearing from one of the adjacent rooms. He grinned as he walked over, pulling Maria into a hug and kissing her lightly on the lips. “I thought I heard you. How was the flight?”

“Good,” she replied, resting her head briefly against his shoulder before pulling back to gesture around the suite. “This is incredible, Tommy.”

“Yeah, guess I didn’t fuck up too bad, huh?” he said with a grin.

She rolled her eyes, but her smile softened.

Tommy’s gaze shifted to you, his grin widening. “Hey, darlin’. How’ve you been?”

You returned his smile as he pulled you into a friendly hug, the scent of sunscreen and a hint of aftershave clinging to him.

“Good, Tommy. You?”

“Better now that I’m in fucking Hawaii,” he said with a laugh, gesturing around dramatically.

You laughed, too, feeling some of the tension from the long day begin to melt away. Tommy had always been easy to like—funny, respectful, and completely devoted to Maria. He had that older brother vibe with you, always quick to check in and make you laugh when you needed it.

“So,” you said, glancing around. “Do I have a room key or something?”

Maria and Tommy exchanged a quick glance, his arm still draped casually around her shoulders.

“Oh,” Tommy said, scratching the back of his neck as he turned to Maria. “You didn’t tell her?”

“Tell me what?” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, the first twinges of unease creeping in.

Tommy gestured around the suite. “This is it. The suite. We’re all staying here. There are two big rooms—come on, I’ll show you!”

Before you could even react, Tommy had slipped his arm around yours, steering you further into the space like an overenthusiastic tour guide.

“Maria—” you started, but he was already pointing things out.

“Look at this place!” Tommy exclaimed, his voice brimming with the kind of excitement that made it hard to stay mad at him. He pointed at the sprawling living room like a proud real estate agent. “Big-ass TV, private balcony, minibar—it’s nuts. And wait ‘til you see the bedrooms. King-sized beds, the works.”

You shot a quick glance over your shoulder, catching Maria hovering by the door. She met your glare with a sheepish shrug, mouthing a silent sorry, her lips curving into an awkward half-smile.

Sorry? That was all she had to say?

Tommy was already leading you deeper into the suite, his arm draped comfortably around yours, blissfully unaware of the rising irritation simmering beneath your polite nods.

“Over here’s the kitchen,” Tommy said, gesturing to a sleek, open-concept area with dark wood cabinets, marble countertops, and stainless steel appliances that gleamed like they’d never been touched. “I mean, not that we’re cooking or anything, but still—pretty sweet, huh?”

You nodded absently, still reeling from the revelation that this wasn’t just their setup—it was your setup, too.

“And here,” Tommy said, stopping in front of a door, “is one of the bedrooms.” He swung it open with a flourish.

The room was absurdly gorgeous. A king-sized bed dominated the space, dressed in crisp white linens with a soft, seafoam-green throw draped across the foot. The headboard was made of rich, dark wood, its edges carved with delicate floral patterns that gave the room an understated elegance. Floor-to-ceiling windows opened to a private balcony, where you could already hear the gentle crash of waves in the distance.

“Not bad, huh?” Tommy grinned, leaning against the doorframe.

“Not bad?” you echoed, unable to hide the hint of sarcasm in your tone. “Tommy, this is ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously awesome,” he corrected, winking.

You let out a breath, forcing a smile as you turned back toward the living room. Maria was still hovering by the door, clearly trying to avoid eye contact.

“Maria,” you hissed, your voice low but sharp as you made your way over to her.

She plastered on an innocent smile. “What?”

“What do you mean what?” you whispered, glancing back to make sure Tommy wasn’t listening. “You didn’t think to mention we’re all staying in the same suite?”

She shrugged again, this time with exaggerated nonchalance. “I didn’t think it was a big deal! The place is huge. You’ll hardly even notice.”

“Hardly notice?” you repeated, your voice rising slightly before you caught yourself. You took a calming breath, lowering your tone again. “Maria, I thought I’d have my own room. My own space.”

“You do have your own space!” she insisted, gesturing toward the suite with a grin. “Look around—it’s basically a mansion. And Tommy said the other bedroom is just as nice as this one.”

“Maria,” you started, pinching the bridge of your nose.

She cut you off with a dramatic sigh, stepping closer to loop her arm through yours. “Look, I know this isn’t what you were expecting, but come on. It’s Hawaii. The suite is incredible. We’re gonna have an amazing time.”

“I didn’t realize me and Joel would be sharing a fucking room together!” you hissed, keeping your voice low but sharp.

Maria waved a dismissive hand, her expression almost too breezy. “It’s fine. Joel’s a gentleman. He’ll sleep on the couch or something.”

“Oh, so I’ll just be the bitch who forced a man to sleep on a couch during his vacation?” you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

Maria winced, but only slightly. “You’re being dramatic.”

You raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Am I?”

She stepped forward, placing her hands on your shoulders, her expression softening into the kind of pout that had gotten her out of trouble since you were in college. “Please,” she murmured, drawing out your name like a plea. “It’ll be fine. Joel’s easygoing. And think about it—how much time are you really gonna spend in the room? You’ll barely even notice.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but she cut you off again. “Plus,” she added, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper, “I’m getting engaged this week. You can deal with this, right? For meee?”

Her eyes were wide and imploring, and despite every bone in your body wanting to say no, the guilt crept in like an uninvited guest. You sighed heavily, running a hand through your hair.

She was right. You could deal with it. Worst-case scenario, you’d take the damn couch yourself. It was a minor inconvenience in the grand scheme of things… right?

“Okay,” you said finally, the word coming out like a reluctant exhale. “Okay. Yeah. Fine.”

Maria’s face lit up like the Fourth of July. “You’re the best! I owe you one,” she said, pulling you into a quick, triumphant hug.

“Oh, you owe me big,” you muttered, your voice muffled against her shoulder.

She pulled back, grinning. “I promise, this is gonna be the best trip ever. You’ll see.”

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

You stepped into the room you’d be sharing with Joel and let out a long sigh. It was gorgeous, of course, just like the rest of the suite—spacious, luxurious, and dripping with the kind of elegance that made you feel like an imposter just by being there.

The centerpiece was a king-sized bed that dominated the room, its crisp white linens layered with soft, seafoam-green pillows that practically begged you to sink into them.

A pair of matching nightstands flanked the bed, each topped with sleek glass lamps that cast a warm, inviting glow. Across from the bed, a low, polished dresser supported a large flat-screen TV, and the far wall was made entirely of glass, leading out to a private balcony. Through the sliding doors, you could see the ocean stretching endlessly, the sound of waves crashing faintly in the distance.

It was beautiful. It was serene. And it was yours… and Joel’s.

Sharing a room with a stranger wasn’t exactly how you imagined this trip starting, but it wasn’t like you could back out now.

You smoothed down your clothes and stepped out into the suite’s living room. The evening light poured through the massive windows, painting the space in shades of gold and orange. Maria and Tommy were curled up on the couch together, her head resting on his chest as they laughed softly at something he’d said.

“Hey, lovebirds,” you called, leaning against the arm of the couch.

“Hey!” Maria greeted you with a bright smile, sitting up slightly while Tommy offered you a quick nod.

“So, uh…” you began, shifting awkwardly. “Is Joel—?”

“Oh, yeah,” Tommy said, interrupting you as he sat up straighter. “The idiot missed his flight.” He shook his head, though there was no real malice in his voice, only amusement. “But he’ll be here soon.”

“Ah,” you said, nodding. “Okay. I think I’m gonna take a shower in the meantime.”

“Alright,” Maria replied, stretching her legs out across Tommy’s lap.

But just as you turned to head back to your room, Tommy’s voice stopped you.

“Oh, hey,” he said, his tone softening as you glanced back. “I think you two will really get along.”

You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow. “Do you?”

“Yeah,” he continued, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “I know it’s a weird situation—sharing a room and all—but Joel’s… he’s a good guy.”

You nodded slowly, unsure of how to respond but unable to stop the flicker of curiosity sparking in your chest.

“Well,” you said finally, “I guess we’ll see.”

Tommy grinned, leaning back into the couch as Maria nestled closer to him.

You turned and headed for your room, the sound of waves and the low murmur of their voices fading behind you. As you closed the door, you couldn’t help but glance at the bed again. Sharing a room might be awkward, sure—but it might also be the most interesting part of this trip.

And something told you that Joel Miller wasn’t the kind of man you could easily forget.

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

The shower was as luxurious as the rest of the suite, a spa-like haven of sleek stone tiles in earthy tones that stretched from floor to ceiling. The water cascaded from a wide, rain-style showerhead above, warm and steady, like a soothing tropical downpour.

Built-in shelves held miniature bottles of fragrant shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, each scented faintly of coconut and vanilla. Soft recessed lighting bathed the space in a warm glow, and a small, fog-free mirror was cleverly positioned above a polished stainless-steel bench.

You hummed softly, the sound mingling with the rhythmic patter of water as you worked shampoo through your hair. The gentle steam wrapped around you like a cocoon, loosening the knots in your muscles and leaving your skin dewy and warm.

This was paradise, you thought, your hands scrubbing at your scalp. For the first time in months—years, maybe—you felt truly relaxed. No deadlines, no responsibilities, just the soothing rush of water and the faint scent of the ocean wafting through the cracked bathroom window.

“Hey!” Maria’s voice rang out from the living room, muffled by the sound of the shower.

You turned the water pressure down just enough to hear her better. “Yeah?”

“Tommy and I are gonna head out and grab a coffee. Do you want anything?”

“Ooh! An iced vanilla latte please!” you shouted back, your voice echoing slightly off the tiled walls.

“Got it!” she called. “We’ll lock up behind us.”

“Okay!” you yelled, adjusting the temperature slightly.

A soft click of the door signaled their departure, the quiet settling over the suite like a warm blanket. You were alone now, the world outside reduced to the distant hum of waves and the steady rhythm of water hitting the tiles.

You sighed, working conditioner through the ends of your hair, letting the tension in your shoulders melt away. This was perfect. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this kind of peace—a moment entirely yours, untouched by worry or distraction.

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

The bathroom was warm and hazy with steam, the scent of coconut and vanilla lingering in the air as you wrapped a fluffy white towel around yourself. Your hair dripped in lazy rivulets down your back, and you ran a hand through it, reveling in the feeling of complete relaxation. This was bliss.

You barely registered the muffled sound of the suite door opening, or the faint, low rumble of a man’s voice calling, “Tommy?” from the living room. Even if you had, it would have been drowned out by your impassioned rendition of Smooth Operator, your voice echoing off the bathroom tiles as you gave yourself over to the moment.

Joel Miller—unknowingly your temporary roommate—entered the shared room with his eyes glued to his phone, his brow furrowed in mild annoyance. His thumb scrolled idly as he typed out a text to Tommy, Where the hell are you? He muttered something to himself under his breath, the deep, low timbre of his voice carrying a faint Texas drawl.

Completely oblivious, he walked toward the bed, not noticing the neatly folded pile of your clothes sitting on top of it, or your travel bag perched on the dresser. His focus was laser-sharp on the glowing screen in his hand, his frustration apparent in the slight clench of his jaw and the furrow of his dark brows.

You didn’t hear him.

He didn’t see you.

Not until you pushed the bathroom door open, a plume of steam rolling out ahead of you as you stepped into the main room.

And there he was.

Standing by the bed, his broad shoulders filling the space as effortlessly as the sunlight spilling in from the balcony. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and his scruff-lined jaw shifted as he frowned down at his phone. He was gorgeous.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat.

Joel, still engrossed in whatever was on his screen, didn’t notice you at first. Then, slowly, his head lifted—like he sensed your presence—and his eyes landed on you.

The moment stretched, silent and charged.

And then you screamed.

Like, actually screamed.

Joel jumped, his phone nearly slipping from his hand as his wide eyes shot up to meet yours. “Jesus Christ!” he barked, his voice rough and sharp, like gravel. “What the hell—”

“What the hell?” you shrieked back, clutching your towel tighter as your heart threatened to beat out of your chest.

Joel held up his hands, palms out in a gesture of surrender, his phone dangling precariously between his fingers. “Hey, easy! I—” His words faltered as his gaze flickered—briefly, too briefly—to the towel clinging to your body before snapping back to your face. His cheeks flushed slightly, though his tone remained gruff. “I didn’t know you were… here.”

“You didn’t know?” you sputtered, taking a defensive step back toward the bathroom door. “What are you even doing in my room?”

Joel frowned, gesturing vaguely at the space around him. “Your room? Pretty sure this is my room too.”

Your jaw dropped, words failing you for a moment as your mind scrambled to process the situation. “You—you’re Joel?”

His brow lifted slightly, his mouth twitching into what might have been a smirk if the situation weren’t so absurd. “That’d be me,” he said, his voice dipping lower.

You groaned, dragging a hand down your damp face. “Of course. Of course this is how I meet you.”

Joel crossed his arms, leaning slightly against the edge of the bed as he regarded you with a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Look, didn’t mean to scare you, alright? Figured this room was empty when I didn’t see Tommy’s stuff.”

“Well, it’s not empty,” you shot back, your cheeks burning. “Clearly.”

“Yeah, I got that now,” he said dryly, his lips quirking into something dangerously close to a smile. His gaze flickered briefly to the bathroom door, then back to you, his brown eyes glinting with amusement. “You, uh… wanna put on some clothes before we keep yellin’ at each other?”

Your face burned, heat flooding your cheeks as the reality of the situation hit you. You were still standing there, dripping wet and wrapped in nothing but a towel, completely exposed in every possible way.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, tightening your grip on the towel.

His eyebrows shot up, and damn it, he looked smug about it. That stupid little smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, his arms crossing over his chest in a way that only made him seem more amused.

Before you could say anything else—or throw something at him—Tommy burst into the room, Maria trailing close behind, both of them wide-eyed and holding coffee cups.

“Hey!” Tommy shouted, his voice loud and panicked. “Are you alright? We heard screaming—”

He froze mid-sentence, his gaze bouncing between you, half-naked and flushed, and Joel, standing entirely too casually by the bed.

Maria’s hand flew to her mouth, barely stifling a laugh as she took in the scene, her eyes dancing with poorly concealed amusement.

“Maria!” you snapped, your voice a sharp plea as you clutched the towel tighter around you.

Tommy, meanwhile, didn’t miss a beat. He grinned, his worry evaporating in an instant as he stepped toward Joel. “Hey, big bro,” he said, pulling Joel into a quick hug, completely unfazed by the tension in the room.

“Hey,” Joel replied, his voice smooth and easy, like this whole situation wasn’t absolutely mortifying.

“How was your flight?” Tommy asked, stepping back as if this were the most normal reunion in the world.

“Good,” Joel said, shrugging as he turned to Maria. He leaned down to kiss her cheek, his tone softening just slightly. “Hey, Maria.”

You stood there, utterly stunned, your mouth slightly open as the three of them exchanged greetings like you weren’t standing there, soaking wet and humiliated in the middle of the room. It was laughable. It was absurd.

Maria caught your desperate look and cleared her throat, nudging Tommy. “We should, uh…”

“Right,” Tommy agreed, glancing at the coffees in his hands. “We should get outta your hair.”

Joel, however, didn’t move right away. His gaze flicked back to you, slow and deliberate, his dark eyes dragging over you in a way that felt both infuriating and electric. He tilted his head slightly, his smirk deepening.

“See you soon, roomie,” he drawled, the emphasis on the word sending a jolt of annoyance through you. He finished with a wink that made your stomach twist in ways you didn’t care to analyze.

You barely managed to hold back a growl as he turned and followed Tommy and Maria out of the room, their laughter trailing behind them. The door clicked shut, leaving you standing there, still clutching your towel and feeling like the universe’s favorite punchline.

“Great,” you muttered to yourself, glaring at the door. “This is just great.”

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

You sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, staring at the crisp white linens like they might hold the answer to your predicament. For thirty long minutes, you debated your options, none of which seemed remotely appealing.

Option one: walk out there and pretend like nothing happened, even though Joel’s smug face was now burned into your memory. Option two: stay in this room for the rest of the vacation, surviving on room service and spite. Option three: book a flight home and disappear into the dead of night, leaving Maria to deal with the fallout of her matchmaking debacle.

You groaned, dropping your head into your hands.

Your phone buzzed, the soft ding breaking the silence. You picked it up, already bracing yourself.

Maria: You gonna come out or stay in there forever?

You sighed heavily, typing back a quick response. You: Maria, this is so embarrassing.

Her reply came almost immediately. Maria: It’s not. Can Joel come and get settled? The poor guy.

Poor guy? Was she kidding? Poor you!

You sighed again, the sound loud and dramatic even to your own ears. Fine. If Joel needed to get into the room so badly, you weren’t going to be the one standing in his way. You: Yes. He can.

Maria’s response came with an infuriating kissy-face emoji that made you want to hurl your phone across the room.

A sharp knock on the door startled you out of your spiraling thoughts.

And then the knock came again. And again. And again.

You rolled your eyes, standing up and calling out, “Yes?”

“Hey, it’s Joel,” his voice came from the other side of the door, deep and slightly muffled. He kept knocking.

Still knocking.

“Can I come in?”

“Yes,” you shouted, exasperated.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

“Are you clothed?”

You threw your hands in the air, your irritation bubbling over. “Jesus Christ!”

He laughed softly through the door, the sound aggravatingly charming.

You stormed to the door and yanked it open, ready to let him have it—but the words caught in your throat when you saw him. Joel stood there, hand still raised mid-knock, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He was leaning slightly against the doorframe, his broad shoulders filling the space effortlessly, and the playful glint in his eyes told you he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

“Just makin’ sure,” Joel said, his tone easy as his gaze flicked over you, his eyes pausing briefly on your flushed cheeks before settling on yours. There was a teasing glint in his expression, the kind that made your pulse do a little stumble.

You stood there, arms crossed, doing your best to meet his gaze without faltering.

He tilted his head slightly, his brow lifting as he watched you.

“What?” you asked, your voice sharp, defensive.

“You’re, uh…” he gestured toward the doorframe with a small tilt of his chin, “kinda in the way.”

“Oh.” You blinked, flustered, before stepping aside. “Come in.”

Joel stepped past you, his eyes scanning the room with a low whistle. “This place is insane,” he said, his voice warm with genuine awe. “Fuckin’ worlds away from Texas.”

You almost smiled, thankful he didn’t make the whole towel incident more awkward than it already was.

He turned to you then, leaning casually against the edge of the dresser, his arms crossing over his chest. “So,” he began, his voice dipping into something dangerously close to playful. “I see you claimed the right side of the bed.”

“Is that a problem?” you shot back, mirroring his crossed arms with your own.

“Nah.” Joel shook his head, his lips quirking into that same infuriating smirk. “I should be closest to the door anyway.”

You frowned. “Why?”

“In case a murderer comes in,” he said simply, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“What the hell?” you asked, staring at him.

“What?” He gave you a look, like you were the one being unreasonable. “Us men gotta think about these things.”

You were about to reply—maybe point out how absurd he sounded—but the words died on your tongue as Joel casually reached behind his neck, grabbed a fistful of his shirt, and shrugged it off in one smooth motion.

Your breath caught.

He stood there, completely unbothered, the golden light from the balcony casting shadows across the toned muscles of his chest. His skin was sun-kissed, his shoulders broad and strong, with a faint trail of dark hair running down his stomach. It was like something out of a magazine—effortless, masculine, and almost unbearably unfair.

You gulped, suddenly forgetting how words worked.

Joel caught your stare, his mouth twitching into that damn smirk again. “What’re you doin’?” you managed, your voice higher than you intended.

“What does it look like?” he replied, tossing his shirt onto the back of a chair like he owned the place. “Seriously, if you’re gonna freak out every time I take my shirt off, we’re gonna have a problem.”

You blinked at him, floundering for a response.

“We’re in Hawaii,” he added, gesturing vaguely toward the balcony as if to drive his point home.

“I know that,” you snapped, crossing your arms tighter, though the heat rushing to your face wasn’t helping your case.

Joel grinned, shaking his head as he grabbed a towel from the dresser. “I’m gonna go take a shower,” he said, his tone light, teasing, like this was all some game he was enjoying far too much.

You stood there for a moment after Joel disappeared into the bathroom, the faint click of the door echoing through the room. It was ridiculous how your heart was racing, how the heat lingering in your cheeks wouldn’t budge no matter how many deep breaths you took.

You shook your head, muttering to yourself as you crossed the room. “Unbelievable. Insufferable.” You tossed a glance at the bathroom door, half-expecting Joel to stick his head out and throw another one of those infuriating comments your way. But all you could hear was the sound of the shower turning on, the steady stream of water muffling whatever he might be saying to himself in there.

You tried to focus on something else, anything else. You unpacked a few things, neatly folding your clothes into the dresser drawers, your movements quick and sharp. But your mind refused to stay on task, wandering back to the way Joel had just… shrugged off his shirt like it was nothing. Like he didn’t notice—or care—how good he looked doing it.

Your lips pressed into a thin line as you shoved the last of your shirts into the drawer. You’d met plenty of flirty guys before, but there was something about Joel—something about the way he seemed so at ease, so himself, that made him impossible to ignore.

The bathroom door opened, and Joel stepped out, a cloud of steam following him like it was part of his aura. He was shirtless, of course, a white towel slung casually around his waist, droplets of water still clinging to his skin. His damp hair curled slightly at the ends, darker now that it was wet, and he was rubbing the back of his neck as though he hadn’t just walked out looking like a whole damn Calvin Klein ad.

You froze, your hand still on the drawer handle, and for the briefest second, you considered looking away. But Joel caught your gaze before you could, his lips curving into that easy, teasing grin.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt your unpacking,” he said, his tone warm and playful. “Figured you’d need the bathroom soon.”

“I—uh—yeah,” you stammered, mentally kicking yourself for how pathetic that sounded.

Joel’s grin widened, and he leaned casually against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. “Y’know,” he drawled, “you don’t have to look so nervous. I don’t bite.” He paused, tilting his head slightly, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Unless you’re into that.”

Your mouth fell open, and you snapped it shut again almost immediately. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, pushing past him toward the bathroom.

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

The sun dipped lower, painting the sky in hues of amber and crimson, its golden light filtering into your room through the slightly ajar door leading to the suite’s main balcony. From outside, you could hear Maria, Tommy, and Joel’s voices carrying on the ocean breeze—easy laughter and teasing banter.

You sat cross-legged on the floor, your back resting against the edge of the bed. The large mirror propped in front of you reflected your half-done makeup, the bronzer brush in your hand hovering mid-air as you muttered a curse under your breath. You were running late—distracted by the events of the afternoon.

Behind you, the bed was a mess of organized chaos: two dresses—one slinky and black, the other vibrant red—lay sprawled across the sheets, along with a carefully chosen collection of jewelry. Your music played softly from your phone on the floor, and you hummed along absentmindedly between swipes of blush.

What you didn’t notice was the sound of the balcony door sliding open, or the way Joel sauntered into the room like he had all the time in the world.

He wore a pale linen shirt, unbuttoned at the collar and rolled up at the sleeves, paired with beige shorts that hung low on his hips. The soft golden light of the setting sun kissed his skin, highlighting the faint sheen of the humid evening air. His hair was perfectly tousled, like he’d just run his fingers through it, and he carried two beers in hand, the bottles clinking softly as he moved.

“Hey,” he said casually, his deep drawl breaking through your concentration as he lowered himself onto the edge of the bed behind you, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight.

You jumped slightly, your eyes darting to the mirror where you caught his reflection. Your gaze locked with his, and for a moment, the air in the room felt heavier, smaller. “Hey,” you replied, suddenly hyper-aware of the blush brush in your hand and the faint flush already spreading across your cheeks.

Joel leaned back slightly, one elbow propped on the mattress, his expression easy but his eyes sharp as he studied you. “Didn’t mean to scare ya,” he said with a faint grin, holding out one of the beers. “Beer?”

You shook your head quickly, turning back to the mirror and dabbing more blush onto your cheeks, as if that could somehow cool the warmth rising to your face. “Oh, no thank you. Can’t stand the taste of beer.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, twisting the cap off one of the bottles with practiced ease. “Can’t stand it?”

You laughed softly, glancing at him through the mirror. “Nope. I don’t get how anyone likes it.”

He chuckled, taking a swig before setting the untouched bottle on the nightstand. “Guess that means more for me.”

The silence between you settled, not awkward but charged, the kind of silence that felt heavy with words unspoken. Joel’s gaze drifted to the bed beside him, his fingers brushing over the fabric of the red dress before he glanced back at you.

“So,” he began, his tone teasing but gentle. “Which one are you plannin’ on?”

Your hand froze mid-swipe, and you turned to face him fully, your lips parting slightly. “I, uh…” You looked between him and the dresses, suddenly feeling shy under his steady gaze.

Joel tilted his head, his grin shifting into something softer, more crooked. “C’mon, roomie. You gotta pick. Red or black?”

You hesitated, biting your lip. “I was leaning toward the black one,” you admitted, though you weren’t entirely sure why you felt the need to explain.

Joel nodded thoughtfully, his fingers brushing the fabric of the red dress again before he picked it up, holding it out as though inspecting it more closely. “Black’s classy. Safe,” he said slowly, his voice quieting. “But…” He paused, swallowing hard enough that you noticed. “I think red.” His usual confidence faltered for a fleeting moment, his gaze flickering to you briefly before returning to the dress. “Red would look, uh… really good.”

Something in his voice—almost awkward, but sincere—made your chest tighten. “Okay,” you said softly, turning back to the mirror before the moment stretched too long. “I’ll think about it.”

Joel nodded, setting the dress back down just as your timer went off on your phone. You swore softly, rushing to finish your blush. “Shit, I swear I’m almost done,” you said, glancing at Joel apologetically.

Joel stayed exactly where he was, his gaze still on you in the mirror, his voice warm and easy. “Hey,” he said. “Take your time. We’re not in a hurry.”

You hesitated, meeting his eyes through the reflection. “You sure? I don’t want to hold everyone up.”

Joel shook his head, his grin softening. “We’re in Hawaii. Ain’t no rules about bein’ late here. Besides, worth the wait.”

Your chest tightened again, and this time, you couldn’t quite hide the faint smile pulling at your lips. “Thanks,” you murmured.

“No problem,” Joel replied, leaning back on his hands. “I’ll, uh, let you get ready.”

His gaze caught on something on the bed, and he reached out, picking up the delicate necklace you’d set aside. “Oh. Did you need help with this?”

“Oh, you don’t have to,” you said quickly, shaking your head.

“It’s really no problem,” Joel said, already standing and crouching down behind you.

The warmth of him was immediate, his presence so close that you swore you could feel the faint brush of his breath against your neck. “Here,” he murmured, his voice lower now. “Hold still.”

Your hands trembled slightly as you lifted your hair, exposing the back of your neck. Joel’s fingers were surprisingly gentle as he fastened the clasp, his touch lingering for just a second longer than necessary.

“There,” he said, his voice soft as his hands dropped back to his sides.

You turned slightly, catching his gaze in the mirror. His eyes lingered on yours, and for a moment, neither of you said a word.

“Perfect,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Thanks.”

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

The hotel grounds were even more breathtaking at night. The warm glow of lanterns lined the stone pathways, their soft light spilling onto lush tropical plants and casting flickering shadows on the ground. The air was thick with the mingling scents of saltwater and frangipani, and somewhere in the distance, the faint sound of waves crashing against the shore carried through the warm breeze.

Maria and Tommy walked ahead of you, their hands interlocked, their laughter soft and easy. Maria wore a flowing emerald-green dress that seemed to shimmer as she moved, her hair styled in loose waves that framed her glowing face. Tommy leaned toward her as she said something, his smile wide and unrestrained as he brushed a kiss against her temple. They looked like something out of a postcard—effortlessly in love and perfectly matched.

You and Joel followed behind, your steps falling into an unspoken rhythm. His hands were tucked casually into the pockets of his shorts, the rolled sleeves of his linen shirt revealing the golden tan of his forearms. The easy sway of his stride gave him an air of confidence that felt completely natural, like he didn’t even realize the effect he had on people—or maybe he did, and just didn’t care.

As you passed beneath an arch of twinkling string lights, Joel glanced over at you, his dark eyes catching the light for a brief moment before his lips curved into a small, knowing smile.

“So,” he drawled, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “You listened to me, huh?”

You glanced up at him, your brows furrowing in confusion. “What?”

He nodded subtly toward your dress, the red fabric clinging to your figure in all the right ways. “The red,” he said, his grin turning slightly crooked. “Told you it’d look good.”

You felt your cheeks warm under his gaze, the heat crawling up your neck despite the cool evening breeze. You glanced down at the dress, brushing invisible lint off the fabric as you tried to steady your voice. “Thanks,” you said lightly, tilting your head just enough to give him a sidelong glance. “Guess you’ll be my fashion advisor for the trip.”

Joel chuckled, the sound low and rich, like a melody you didn’t realize you wanted to hear on repeat.

“Careful now,” he said, leaning closer as his voice dropped just a fraction. “You let me make too many decisions, and next thing you know, I’ll have you in cowboy boots and denim shorts.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Not a chance.”

“Never say never, roomie,” he teased, his grin widening as his arm brushed yours for a fleeting moment.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence for a few beats, your steps in sync as you followed the soft glow of lanterns illuminating the path. Maria and Tommy’s laughter floated back to you from up ahead, their silhouettes framed by the soft flicker of string lights.

“So,” Joel said after a moment, leaning slightly toward you as though he were sharing some grand secret. “Tommy thinks Maria has no clue he’s gonna propose.”

You glanced up at him, your brow furrowing. “Seriously?”

Joel nodded, his grin growing more playful. “Yep. Poor guy’s convinced she hasn’t pieced it together.”

“She’s got a hunch,” you said knowingly, the corners of your mouth quirking into a small smile.

Joel let out a warm laugh, the sound easy and genuine. He leaned a little closer, his voice dipping just enough to feel more personal. “So,” he began casually, though the teasing edge in his tone gave him away, “you, uh… got a boyfriend or something?”

Your steps faltered slightly, and you turned to look at him fully, raising an eyebrow. “Joel,” you said, your voice dry but amused. “If I had a boyfriend, do you think I’d be here on a couples trip, with someone who is not my boyfriend?”

Joel blinked, his lips parting as he realized how ridiculous the question was. “Oh,” he said quickly, his grin softening into something sheepish. “Right. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” you replied, brushing it off with a wave of your hand.

Joel’s smile returned, his gaze flicking over you with an almost curious warmth. “Just find it hard to believe,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now, more sincere.

You blinked, caught slightly off guard by the shift in his tone. “Oh, come on,” you said, rolling your eyes to cover the sudden flutter in your chest. “Does that line usually work for you?”

Joel’s brow furrowed, his expression turning playfully indignant. “What line?”

“The cheesy pickup lines,” you shot back, your lips curving into a smirk.

“I’m being serious,” he said, his tone dipping into something earnest, though the teasing glint in his eyes remained.

“Mhm,” you replied, your voice laced with mock skepticism as you tilted your head at him.

Joel let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head as though genuinely disappointed. “Wow. So cynical,” he said, his grin returning as he leaned slightly closer, the heat of his gaze brushing over you. “Bet you’re a real hit at parties.”

Before you could fire back a retort, Maria’s voice called out from ahead, cutting through the night air. “Guys, hurry up! We’re gonna miss the live music!”

Joel turned toward her voice, then glanced back at you with a grin that was all charm and mischief. “Better pick up the pace,” he said, his drawl warm and teasing. “Wouldn’t wanna get left behind and have to serenade you myself. Though, fair warnin’—my singin’ ain’t free.”

You snorted, shaking your head as you quickened your step. “Lucky for you, Joel, I’m not paying to hear whatever cowboy karaoke you’ve got up your sleeve.”

Joel chuckled, falling into stride beside you. “Careful,” he said, his voice low and playful. “Talk like that, and you’re gonna hurt my feelin’s.”

“Somehow, I think you’ll survive,” you replied with a grin, your heart skipping as his gaze lingered on you just a moment too long.

As the two of you caught up with Maria and Tommy, the warm glow of the hotel lights and the faint hum of music ahead set the perfect stage for the night—and for whatever this thing between you and Joel was slowly becoming.

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

“Holy shit,” Tommy murmured as you all stepped into the restaurant.

And honestly, he wasn’t wrong.

The place was stunning, a picture of understated luxury that somehow felt warm and inviting rather than intimidating. The open-air design let in the salty breeze, while woven lanterns hung from high wooden beams, casting soft, flickering light across the room. The walls were draped with lush greenery, accented by vibrant tropical flowers that seemed too perfect to be real. Somewhere in the background, the faint hum of live music blended seamlessly with the rhythmic crash of waves.

“This place is insane,” Joel murmured beside you, his deep drawl laced with quiet awe as his gaze swept across the space.

You glanced at him, catching the way the soft lighting brushed over the angles of his face, highlighting the faint scruff along his jaw and the warm brown of his eyes. “Not bad, huh?” you said with a small smile, your voice teasing.

He nodded, his lips curving into a slight grin. “Guess Tommy finally got somethin’ right.”

A waiter appeared, all effortless poise as he greeted you with a warm smile. “Right this way,” he said, motioning for you to follow.

The four of you trailed him through the restaurant, past tables filled with couples leaning into quiet conversations and groups laughing over cocktails. The soft glow of candlelight flickered across polished wood and crisp white tablecloths, giving the whole place a dreamy, golden hue.

The waiter led you outside to a terrace overlooking the ocean, where more lanterns were strung across the open space, their warm light mingling with the silver glow of the moon reflecting off the water. The sound of the waves was louder here, blending with the distant strum of a ukulele from the live band.

Maria and Tommy slid into one side of the table, their fingers already interlocking as they settled in. Joel, without hesitation, pulled out a chair next to yours and gestured for you to sit.

“Ladies first,” he said, his grin softening into something almost gentlemanly.

You gave him a small nod, sinking into the seat. He followed, sitting beside you with the kind of ease that made it seem like he’d been doing this for years.

“Here are the menus,” the waiter said, placing them delicately in front of you. “And the drink menus.” He offered a quick, practiced smile. “I’ll be with you shortly.”

As soon as he disappeared, Tommy leaned forward, flipping open the drink menu with wide eyes. “This place has everything,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Maria laughed, resting her chin on her hand as she glanced at her boyfriend. “Don’t get too excited. You still have to pay for it.”

“Worth it,” Tommy replied, already scanning the cocktails.

Beside you, Joel leaned back in his chair, his arm resting casually along the back of yours. He opened his menu with one hand, but his attention wasn’t on it—it was on you.

“See anything you like?” he asked, his voice low, teasing.

You glanced at him, your brows furrowing slightly. “The menu just got here.”

“Not talkin’ about the menu,” he replied smoothly, his grin widening just enough to make your pulse skip.

“Jesus,” you murmured under your breath, shaking your head and focusing hard on the menu in front of you.

Joel laughed, the sound warm and rich, as he grabbed a menu for himself. “Relax,” he said, flipping lazily to the drinks page, his eyes scanning the options with a faint smirk.

After a moment, he leaned closer, angling the menu so you could see it too. His shoulder brushed yours, the warmth of his presence impossibly distracting. “Hey, look,” he said, pointing to a section of colorful, overly elaborate cocktails. “These all sound fancy. Perfect for you.”

You arched an eyebrow, glancing at the names—everything from Tropical Temptation to Hibiscus Bliss. “You think I’m a ‘fancy cocktail’ kind of person?”

Joel’s grin grew wider. “I dunno. Thought you might enjoy somethin’ a little sweeter. Balance out all that sass.”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could fire back, Joel straightened in his seat, his gaze lighting up with a spark of mischief. “Hey, let’s play a game,” he said, turning to face you more fully.

You frowned, your curiosity piqued despite yourself. “What kind of game?”

He leaned in closer, his voice dipping low as though sharing a secret. “Simple. I choose your drink, you choose mine.”

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes suspiciously. “How is that a game?”

Joel chuckled, resting his elbow on the back of your chair as he met your gaze head-on. “Because,” he said, his tone slow and deliberate, “it’s a test of trust.”

“Trust?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

He nodded, completely unfazed by your skepticism. “Yep. You trust me not to order you somethin’ ridiculous, and I trust you not to screw me over with, I dunno…” He gestured toward the menu. “A Pink Flamingo Paradise or somethin’.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of you, shaking your head. “You don’t strike me as a Pink Flamingo Paradise kind of guy.”

Joel smirked, leaning back in his chair with an air of casual confidence. “I’d rock it, though.”

You snorted, your fingers tapping lightly against the edge of the menu as you debated. “Alright, fine,” you said, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “But if you pick something gross, I’m holding it against you for the rest of the trip.”

“Fair,” he replied easily, his grin never wavering. “Same rules apply.”

You both turned back to your menus, scanning the options with newfound purpose.

Joel glanced at you, his tone teasing. “What’re you thinkin’? Something with an umbrella in it?”

“Maybe,” you shot back, smirking. “What about you? Something boring like beer?”

“Boring?” Joel placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense as he leaned back in his chair. “You wound me.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you, shaking your head as you glanced back at the menu. After a moment, you settled on a drink, pointing it out to the waiter with a confident nod. Joel followed suit, his choice quick and deliberate, though the glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t about to let the game end there.

“All right,” Tommy said, leaning forward and slapping the table lightly. “We gotta get serious about this food situation. There’s too many damn things on this menu. What’s everyone thinkin’?”

Maria laughed, nudging his arm. “You’re acting like we’re solving world hunger, babe. Just pick something.”

Joel glanced at his brother with a faint smirk before turning his attention back to you. But this time, his playful demeanor softened, his gaze shifting to something quieter, more thoughtful.

“You got any dietary stuff I should know about?” Joel asked, his voice lower now, almost tender.

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. His tone was so different from the usual teasing lilt you’d come to expect—gentle, sincere, like he genuinely cared about the answer.

“Uh, no,” you said after a beat, shaking your head. “Nothing like that.”

Joel nodded, his expression relaxed but still warm. “Good to know,” he murmured, his eyes lingering on yours for just a moment longer than necessary before he turned back to the menu.

You swallowed hard, the faint warmth of his attention leaving a subtle flutter in your chest.

“Okay,” Tommy said, clearly oblivious to the moment as he squinted at the menu. “What the hell is a coconut lime mahi-mahi? Am I supposed to know what mahi-mahi is?”

“It’s fish, Tommy,” Maria said with a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes fondly. “You’ve had it before. Remember that time we went to the seafood place in Austin?”

“Oh,” Tommy said, nodding. “Right. That was good.”

Joel chuckled, his voice breaking the small bubble of tension that had lingered between you. “Y’know, Maria,” he drawled, leaning back in his chair, “you’re gonna have your hands full with him.”

Maria grinned, clearly unfazed. “Already do.”

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

This was fun, you thought, glancing around the table as laughter spilled into the warm night air. The conversation flowed effortlessly, Maria and Tommy trading playful jabs while Joel chimed in with his dry, easy humor. For the first time in a while, you felt completely at ease, the tension of earlier moments melting into the atmosphere of good company and golden light.

The food arrived before you even realized how much time had passed, the waiter placing each dish with practiced elegance.

Tommy, true to form, had ordered something hearty—a perfectly seared steak topped with garlic butter, its aroma rich and mouthwatering. He leaned back in his chair, eyeing it like it was the centerpiece of a grand feast. “Now this,” he declared, picking up his knife and fork, “is what I’m talkin’ about.”

Maria, ever the balance to his bold choices, had gone for a delicate seafood linguine, the pasta glistening with olive oil and white wine, studded with shrimp and fresh herbs. “You’d better share,” Tommy teased, eyeing her plate, but Maria only swatted his hand away with a laugh.

You had chosen a grilled snapper, its crispy skin drizzled with a tangy mango salsa and paired with a vibrant side of coconut rice. The bright colors and tropical flavors made your plate look like something straight out of a magazine.

Joel’s choice was classic and unfussy—a plate of barbecued ribs slathered in smoky sauce, with a side of roasted potatoes and charred corn on the cob.

He caught your gaze as he picked up a rib, a mischievous glint in his eye. “What?” he asked innocently, though his smirk betrayed him. “You were gonna judge me no matter what I got.”

You shook your head, laughing softly. “I wasn’t judging. Just… admiring your commitment to the messiest thing on the menu.”

“Gotta live a little,” Joel replied, his tone light but his gaze lingering just long enough to make your heart skip.

The laughter continued as everyone dug in, the clinking of silverware and the hum of the nearby live music weaving seamlessly into the scene. Soon after, the waiter returned, a tray balanced expertly in his hands.

“For the lady,” he said with a polite smile, setting a vibrant, colorful cocktail in front of you. It was topped with a slice of fresh pineapple and a tiny pink umbrella, the drink itself a swirl of coral and gold hues.

Your jaw dropped slightly as you stared at it. “Oh my god,” you said, biting back a laugh. “What is this?”

Joel leaned in, his grin widening as he inspected the drink. “That,” he said, his voice full of mock-seriousness, “is a Sunset Paradise.”

You shot him a look, your lips twitching as you tried to hold back your laughter. “Are you kidding me? You picked this?”

“Hey, I thought it suited you,” he said, his tone casual but his eyes dancing with mischief. “Sweet, colorful… a little over the top.”

You shook your head, picking up the glass and taking a small sip. The flavors burst on your tongue—pineapple, passionfruit, a hint of coconut rum. Damn it. It was actually good.

“Alright,” you admitted reluctantly. “Not bad, Miller. Not bad.”

Joel’s grin only widened.

“And for the gentleman,” the waiter continued, placing Joel’s drink in front of him with a subtle flourish.

You couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped you as you stared at the delicate martini glass, filled with a pale pink liquid and garnished with a single orchid flower floating on top. “Oh, this is perfect,” you said, barely able to contain yourself. “Joel Miller, enjoying a Hibiscus Bliss.”

Joel narrowed his eyes at you, his lips twitching as though he was fighting a laugh of his own. “You’re enjoyin’ this way too much,” he muttered, picking up the glass with exaggerated care.

“Go on,” you teased, leaning forward on your elbows. “Take a sip. Let me see you savor that hibiscus.”

Joel held your gaze, his grin slowly breaking through as he raised the glass to his lips. He took a slow, deliberate sip, setting the glass down with a satisfied sigh. “Not bad,” he said, his tone deadpan. “Real sophisticated.”

You burst out laughing, shaking your head as you leaned back in your chair. “I can’t believe you’re pulling this off.”

“Darlin’,” Joel said, his grin turning cocky as he leaned slightly closer, his voice low enough that only you could hear, “I could pull off anything.”

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

The four of you sat back in your chairs, the plates cleared and glasses now reduced to condensation-rimmed remnants of colorful cocktails and beer. The warm buzz of good food and drinks settled over the group, and you realized with a start just how comfortable you felt.

Somehow, throughout the course of dinner, you and Joel had drifted closer. His arm rested casually along the back of your chair, and though he wasn’t quite touching you, you could feel the faint pull of his presence—the warmth radiating from him like he was the sun itself.

“Alright,” Joel said, his voice soft and low as he turned to you, his grin creeping in at the edges. “Now you gotta rate the drink I picked for you. Outta ten.”

You tilted your head, pretending to think, though the teasing glint in your eye gave you away. “Hmmm…” you hummed, dragging it out just to watch his brow twitch in anticipation. “I’ll give you a… seven.”

Joel leaned back, letting out a low hum of approval. “Seven, huh? Above average. I’ll take it.”

You smirked, leaning slightly toward him. “And now you?”

He glanced at the remnants of his Hibiscus Bliss, the delicate pink drink looking comically out of place in his hand, then back at you with an exaggerated frown. “Five.”

Your jaw dropped, and you straightened in mock offense. “A five?”

Joel nodded, his lips curving into a crooked smile as he took another sip. “Yeah, and that’s me bein’ generous.”

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, shaking your head, but you couldn’t stop the laugh that slipped out.

In front of you, Maria and Tommy were leaning into each other, their voices softer now, heads close as they shared a quick peck. Maria’s laughter was light and sweet, blending with the faint strum of live music in the distance. The two of them were completely in their own world, whispering and exchanging smiles like the honeymoon phase had never ended.

Joel’s voice cut through the moment, low and warm as he leaned closer to you, his breath brushing your ear. “Let’s make a bet.”

You turned to him, your brows arching in curiosity. “I’m listening.”

He angled himself toward you, his grin widening just enough to make your heart do an annoying little flip. “Whoever’s right about when Tommy proposes gets to make the other person do whatever they want.”

Your brows furrowed as you studied him, skeptical. “That’s not fair,” you said, shaking your head. “He’s your brother. He’s probably told you everything he’s planned.”

Joel raised a hand, his expression softening into something almost boyish. “Swear to God, he hasn’t said a thing. I got no clue when he’s gonna do it.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, searching for any hint of deception, but Joel just held your gaze steadily, his grin turning a little smug, like he knew you were about to give in.

“So?” he prompted, his voice a touch lower now, coaxing. “You in?”

You hesitated, glancing back at Maria and Tommy. The way they were leaning into each other, so completely at ease, made you think it had to be soon. And honestly, the thought of beating Joel at his own game was too tempting to pass up.

“Alright,” you said finally, turning back to him. “I’m in.”

Joel’s grin widened, and he leaned back in his chair, his arm brushing yours ever so slightly as he settled into the space between you. “Good,” he said, his tone laced with satisfaction. “Don’t worry, roomie. I’ll go easy on you when I win.”

“You mean if you win,” you corrected, your voice sharp but playful.

Joel chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement as he raised his glass in a mock toast. “To fair play,” he said, his drawl warm and teasing.

You clinked your glass lightly against his, shaking your head but smiling despite yourself. Whatever this was—this slow, teasing back-and-forth—it was addictive, pulling you in like a tide you didn’t want to fight.

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

When you arrived back at the suite, the quiet hum of the evening enveloped the four of you. The buzz of laughter and conversation from dinner had given way to the heavy weight of exhaustion. Maria and Tommy murmured their goodnights as they veered off to their side of the suite, their soft laughter fading behind the sound of their door closing.

You and Joel walked to your side in silence, the tension between you as palpable as the warmth of the tropical night. You could feel his presence behind you, his steps slow and deliberate, and you swore you could feel his gaze burning into your back. You tried to ignore it, focusing on the cool tiles beneath your bare feet as you reached the bedroom door.

Inside, Joel moved toward the bed, dropping his phone onto his side with a casual thud before sprawling back against the pillows. His arm rested lazily above his head, the glow from his screen illuminating the sharp cut of his jaw and the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You grabbed your pajamas and headed toward the bathroom. The cool splash of water on your face was grounding as you scrubbed off your makeup, brushed your teeth, and slipped into something more comfortable. But even as you tried to settle your thoughts, you couldn’t shake the image of Joel, relaxed and at ease, sprawled out on the bed like he owned it.

When you emerged, Joel’s eyes flicked up from his phone immediately, locking on you like you’d just stepped into a spotlight. His gaze traveled over you briefly—too brief to feel invasive but long enough to send heat rushing up your neck.

“What?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended as you set your things on the dresser.

“Nothing,” he said easily, his lips curving into a faint smile as he stood, grabbing his own bundle of clothes. “Just didn’t realize bedtime was a fashion show.”

You shot him a glare, though the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you. “Go brush your teeth, Joel.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he walked past you, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air. “Yes, ma’am,” he drawled, disappearing into the bathroom.

The door clicked shut behind him, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “Christ,” you muttered under your breath, grabbing the glass of water from your nightstand and taking a long sip.

You settled into bed, plugging your phone into the charger and pulling the covers up to your chest. The clock on the nightstand blinked 11:03, and the suite was quiet except for the faint sound of the ocean outside.

Just as you were starting to relax, the bathroom door swung open, and Joel strolled back into the room like it was nothing—barefoot, shirtless, and in a pair of low-slung pajama pants. His hair was damp, his skin still warm and golden from the day, and he was entirely, maddeningly unbothered as he crossed to his side of the bed.

Without a word, he threw himself onto the mattress, the springs creaking slightly under his weight as he flopped down with an exaggerated sigh.

“Jesus, Joel,” you muttered, your voice sharp as you stared at him.

“What?” he asked innocently, propping himself up on one elbow to meet your gaze. “I live here too, roomie.”

You gestured vaguely toward him, your eyebrows lifting. “Could you maybe warn someone before… doing that?”

Joel tilted his head, clearly biting back a grin. “Doin’ what?”

You waved your hand in his direction, exasperated. “Showing up half-naked like some—some—”

“Some what?” he interrupted, his voice low and teasing as his grin finally broke free. “Greek god? Movie star? Go on, I’m listenin’.”

You groaned, throwing your head back against the pillows. “You’re insufferable.”

Joel chuckled, the sound low and warm as he turned his head to look at you, his grin teasing but his gaze soft. “And you,” he emphasized, his drawl stretching the words as though savoring them, “are too wound up.” He rested one arm behind his head, the picture of lazy confidence as he continued. “Good thing you’re on vacation, or you might just explode.”

You turned your head to glare at him, though the twitch of your lips betrayed you. “Gee, thanks, Joel.”

“Just statin’ facts,” he said easily, his smirk widening as he stretched out across the bed like he owned it. “Bet you’re one of those people who makes to-do lists for their time off.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “I do not.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Right. So you didn’t already plan out tomorrow?”

You hesitated, pressing your lips together, and Joel laughed, the sound rumbling and warm.

“Knew it,” he said, his voice laced with triumph. “C’mon, roomie, you’re supposed to be relaxin’. Let me guess—early morning hike? Sunrise yoga?”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing the corner of the blanket and pulling it higher up your chest. “For your information, I was thinking about hitting the beach. Maybe snorkeling. Normal vacation stuff.”

He tilted his head, his gaze flicking over you briefly before meeting your eyes again. “So, what time we headin’ out?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“Tomorrow,” Joel said, his voice casual but his grin edging toward mischievous. “You’re plannin’ it, right? Guess that makes me your plus one.”

You stared at him, your mouth opening slightly before you caught yourself. “You want to come with me?”

Joel raised an eyebrow, his tone turning mock-serious. “You expect me to leave you unsupervised in Hawaii? What if you trip over a rock or somethin’?”

You sighed, shaking your head but smiling despite yourself. “Fine. But only if you promise not to complain the whole time.”

“Me? Complain?” Joel said, his brows lifting in mock offense. “Never.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head at him, but before you could retort, his gaze shifted, softening as it settled on you.

“Serious question,” he said, his voice dipping just enough to make your heart falter for a beat.

Your eyes snapped to his, the teasing grin on your face fading as your breath hitched slightly. “What?” you asked, wary of his tone.

Joel tilted his head, his expression unreadable for a moment before he said, deadpan, “Do you snore?”

Your heart stopped, then restarted with a kick of disbelief. “Joel.”

“I’m serious,” he continued, his brow furrowing like this was some grand existential question. “I can’t do snorin’. It’s a dealbreaker.”

You glared at him, though the faint blush creeping up your neck betrayed you. “I do not snore.”

“Good,” Joel said, nodding like he was checking something off a list. “Because sometimes… pretty girls do weird things in their sleep.”

“Stop,” you said, your voice sharp but your cheeks betraying you as they burned.

Joel grinned, his gaze lingering on your face a moment too long as your blush deepened. “Just sayin’,” he added with a soft chuckle, clearly enjoying himself.

You shook your head, trying to ignore the warmth pooling in your chest, but before you could respond, Joel’s expression shifted again—his grin fading into something gentler, more serious.

“Also,” he began, his voice quieter now, “if you want, I can, uh, sleep outside. On the couch.” He gestured vaguely toward the suite’s living area, his tone so casual it almost masked the sincerity in his words. “It’s no big deal. I know you weren’t expectin’ this whole… shared bed thing.”

The offer caught you off guard, the sweetness of it pulling you up short. Joel—so cheeky, so infuriatingly confident—was looking at you now with an openness that you hadn’t expected.

You breathed in slowly, your gaze dropping for a moment before meeting his. “No,” you said softly, shaking your head. “It’s fine.”

Joel raised a brow, his lips curving faintly. “You sure?”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “As long as you stay on your side of the bed.”

His grin widened, that playful spark returning to his eyes. “Good,” he said, his tone lighter now. “Because, truth is, I really didn’t wanna sleep on the couch. It looked lumpy.”

You laughed softly, your chest loosening as the tension faded. “Wow, such a gentleman.”

Joel leaned back against the pillows, his grin turning smug but somehow still boyish. “Told you. I’m full of surprises.”

You shook your head, a quiet laugh escaping you, though the warmth in your chest betrayed your amusement. Settling back onto your side of the bed, you pulled the blanket up to your shoulders, the faint scent of clean linen and something distinctly Joel filling the air.

The room was quiet now, the low hum of the ocean outside mingling with the soft creaks of the suite as it settled around you. Despite the space between you, the warmth of Joel’s presence lingered, stretching into the silence like something unspoken but understood.

“Night, Joel,” you murmured, your voice soft and a little shy as you closed your eyes.

There was a pause—a small, almost imperceptible beat—and then his voice came, low and warm, carrying the faintest trace of a smile. “Night, roomie’.”

CHAPTER 2 IS OUT HERE

[slowdivinqs]

Easy

Joel Miller x f! reader | 18+ MDNI

summary: waking joel up in the best way possible.

warnings: implied age gap. no use of y/n , no outbreak AU, p w/o plot, consensual somnophilia, unprotected P in V, creampies, dirty talk, established relationship, daddy kink, soft dom! Joel, a few spanks, soft cock worship, pussy pronouns, can imagine game Joel or Pedro. Reader is described as having hair and dimples in her back, as well as Joel being able to manhandle her.

W/C: 3k of non-proof read smut.

A/N: I’m so blown away by all the love on Golden, love you all. Thank you for 150 followers ♡ happy holidays!

masterlist

———————————————————————————————

The duvet needs to be chucked outside.

You throw the blanket off of you with a quiet huff, your arms flopping forward onto the mattress once the duvet has flown nothing short of five centimeters off of you.

Joel Miller is a furnace, one who is insistent on holding you hostage - or cuddling, as he likes to call it - the whole night.

You may act like it’s the bane of your existence, shooting him glares in the middle of the night when your face feels like it’s on fire and you want to jump into a bucket of ice, but you still love it.

You turn over and snuggle into your man’s chest, deciding to forgo the annoyance at being warm, feeling the coarse hair tickle your cheek before you hear his deep, rumbling groan of sleepy approval. His arm clumsily wrapping around you and pulling you forward against him as he keeps sleeping soundly above you.

You can’t help but think of a big bear, deep in hibernation. It makes you smile to yourself before you’re falling asleep in Joel’s arms.

The sun decides to target your eyes the next time, and you glance over to see it’s now 10 am. Joel is still fast asleep above you, the arm that’s not cheekily resting on your ass is behind his head, making those biceps of his look even more delicious. You want to bite them, but your man needs his sleep. It’s his only day off after all.

You blink lazily, not really one for laying in bed once you’re awake, so you admire Joel sleeping next to you. That scruffy beard of his, unfairly long lashes, his full bottom lip, the trail of hair on his stomach that leads bellow the band of his boxers.

Your attention has been captured.

You lean your cheek against his chest - still nuzzling - as you stare at his underwear, eyeing the covered bulge of him that drives you feral every time.

You think back to last week, the day you had a very important meeting. The way he woke you up with his head between your legs, his hot mouth wrapped around your clit.

It’s only logical to return the favor, right?

Joel mumbles a sleepy protest as you escape from his arms, subconsciously grabbing your pillow and bringing it to his face, wrapping those big arms of his around it. Inhaling the scent of your shampoo and body cream and letting out a hum of approval as he promptly falls back asleep.

It makes you smile, momentarily losing focus as you slowly pull off his boxers.

His soft cock is a sight to behold. Ironically more enticing to you than when he’s burning bright red and dripping for you.

He was never embarrassed about it like your previous partners were. Whenever Joel got out the shower, with a towel wrapped around his waste, you could see the outline of him underneath, sometimes the towel would even slip, giving you a view of his tip.

You drool just thinking about it.

You shimmy his boxers down further, slowly lifting his package so his heavy, hair balls sit above the fabric. Running a finger along his soft skin, humming at the sight of his tip leaking a small trail of sticky precum, twitching softly in your grip. You spend a few minutes just admiring him.

Stretched out on the bed like one of those Roman statues, his muscles on display under his hairy arms, tummy and chest. His thighs bent slightly, soft cock resting perfectly. His face, oh he’s so handsome. You love him, more than anything.

His hair has gotten fluffier, you suspect he’s been using your shampoo.

You lick a line up his cock, gathering that delicious pre on your tongue as he shifts in his sleep with a soft sigh. You still, waiting until he settles back into the cushions, you slowly take him into your mouth then, sucking down down down until he’s fully resting in your mouth, slowly twitching to hardness as your mouth warms him.

You stay like that for a few minutes, gently sucking on the warm weight of him until he’s dripping his precum down your throat, grunting in his sleep as his legs twitch up slightly - stomach clenching and relaxing again as his head turns to the side, a grunt bubbling up his throat.

You pull off as slow as you can, savoring the feel and taste of him against your tongue. The smooth, warm skin of the underside of his cock sliding out your throat. Moving your tongue so as to not graze the underside of his sticky tip - he’ll definitely wake up if you do that.

You let his cock fall gently from your lips, nuzzling your head lower, until you’re sucking one of his heavy balls into your mouth.

You feel a hand in your hair a moment later.

“Atta girl, keep doin’ that.” He groans with that sleepy, deep morning voice you love so much, his hips shifting up to guide more of him into your mouth. He keeps you pressed closer against him, inhaling that musk that's uniquely Joel. He spreads his hair-covered legs wider, stretching his back with the groan he always does as he lets you suck on his sac until he’s pulling you off him with a grunt and instead flipping you down on the sheets, climbing on top of you until his wet cock is nudging at your clit.

“You drive me crazy, Y’know that, angel?” He murmurs, his teeth nipping at your earlobe as he spreads your legs, humming in approval when he sees your wet pussy.

“You weren’t supposed to wake up.” You huff, your hands automatically going to his broad shoulders as he kisses your neck like he can’t stand to not kiss you as soon as he wakes up, you know he can’t : every morning you’re littered with kisses until you eventually open your eyes. It’s the best way to wake up you can think of, makes you feel warm and fuzzy and full of goggles. After, he usually spends ten minutes kissing whatever part of you he can until you either brush him off and he follows you into the shower, or you don’t even make it that far.

“Can’t stay sleepin’ when a woman like you ‘s between my legs.” He murmurs, his big palm groping your breast as he licks the sensitive space above your collar.

“Mmm come here, I miss you.” You whisper to him in your own sleepy voice you know he loves just as much as you love his, kissing his lips softly as he slides his hands under your shoulder blades, holding you up.

“I’m right here.” He says with a gentle smile, but you can see behind that softness he’s desperate from your teasing, that he wants to be inside you even more than you want to feel his cock stretch you, which seems impossible.

“I still miss you, I need you.” You whisper, and he brushes your hair back off your forehead with that big palm of his, placing a soft kiss on the skin he’s revealed before he’s pressing his drooling tip against your weeping entrance.

“Come here, my baby.” He whispers, lifting your hips so his tip can push past your entrance, making room for itself inside your wet walls until the rest of him joins in a hot, slow roll, stretching you open so deliciously you have no choice but to let your eyes roll back as you arch against him, peaked nipples almost brushing against his own strong chest. The weight of him inside you is warm and heavy, leaving your clit throbbing as you clench around him.

Your mouth pours out whimpers of his name, holding onto him tightly as he pushes forward until the coarse hairs at the base of him meet your twitching clit, and he’s kissing you softly while his hand cups the bowl of your skull - the other your lower back, his thumb and pointer finger finding your dimples.

“I love you.” He whispers, gazing at your face and admiring you even when your eyes are closed and your mouth hangs a bit open. He’s fighting to keep his own eyes open, to not let them flutter shut as yours have - he needs to see that face of yours he loves so much. Needs to watch the effect of him inside you.

“I love you.” You whimper, and you smile to yourself before your thumb brushes over his nipple cheekily, wanting him to react in the way you know he will.

He lets out an irritated noise that’s the closest to a growl you’ve ever heard from him, and your mission has been accomplished . “Naughty girl, you’re playin’ with fire.” Watching your expression he seems to be looking for what you want. He gives a jerk of his hips, and hums as your eyes flutter.

“Why don’t you teach me a lesson ‘bout being naughty, then?” You say softly to him, biting your bottom lip in a way you know will drive him wild. Your hypothesis is proven when he flips you onto your stomach, raising your ass in the air for his viewing pleasure. You whine when his cock slips out of you, leaving you empty and dripping.

“Yeah? You want me t’be rough with you baby? Bruise those walls n’ this sweet ass if yours?” He emphasizes his words with a chomp to your ass cheek and a slap. Joel Miller loves ass and tits, but you know his neurons activate whenever he sees your backside jiggle. There’s a strict rule about what pants you can wear when he needs to focus, for his own sanity. He’s missed too many deadlines at work due to him being unable to resist you walking past his office. He knows the rule is futile as it became more of a prompt to do the exact opposite of what he asked for.

You both know he doesn’t mind.

“Yes, daddy.” You whimper, your legs kicking back and forth slightly as he spanks your ass again, spreading your cheeks to watch your puckered hole flex and pussy drip down on your clit. He presses a kiss over his bitemark before shimmying his hips up, his large hands finding place on your hips, thumbs digging into your dimples like grips. He spends a second admiring the sight of his cock between your cheeks, no matter how many times he’s seen it.

“That’s my pretty girl.” He coos, his heavy hand holding his cock as he moves it up and down teasingly through your slit, his tip catching on your entrance before he’s pushing into you again. The angle makes you gasp, his cock sliding so deliciously along your front wall, to that spot that makes you dumb, that you can’t help the way you cry for him.

It’s all ‘daddy, daddy, daddy.’ as he starts moving his hips, mixed in with the louder slaps of his hips meeting your ass - noticeably with his increased effort.

“Oh, baby, this pussy is so sweet.” He groans. You can’t see it, but his head falls back, his hands grip your hips harder. You can’t even register what he just said, your mind is nowhere. You can’t think about anything except the pounding of his cock into you - the hot drag of him as he slides through your wetness like you were made just for him, just for his fat cock. “Squeezin’ me so tight, gorgeous girl.”

He smacks your ass again, three times in a row, inhaling sharply through his teeth when you clench around him, feet kicking up from their position against the mattress and into the soft flesh of his own backside. He grunts out a small laugh before he’s spreading your previously closed legs with his thighs, driving back into you when he’s made space for himself.

“How m’I supposed to stay mad at you when this creamy cunt’s cryin’ for her daddy?” He whispers as he leans over you, his chest pressed to your back as his arms wrap around your front, holding the opposite breast in each hand. He’s right, your pussy is creamy, proven by the white ring around his cock you can’t see, and it’s certainly crying for him - it sobs, mourns, yearns, weeps for him. His fist curls around your hair before he’s tugging as gently as he can to make your head tilt back, holding you like that.

“Oh, daddy-“ you hiccup, your voice shaking with his thrusts, every crack of his hips makes your words and moans break. It’s too much, and it’s not enough. You need him like this always, buried inside and holding you in a way that fixes you and breaks you apart all over again.

“I love you- she loves you.” You cry just as your pussy clenches around him again, you don’t care that the sounds of his thrusts are becoming increasingly lewd with the wetness seeping from you. You know he loves it like this:

Warm, messy and wet wet wet.

“I know baby, I know- she’s makin’ such a mess of daddy’s cock, should see the way your slick’s stickin’ between us- fuck.” He growls the last part, no doubt watching the webs of your wetness stretch whenever his crotch pulls away from your ass, judging by the way he’s twitching inside of you - veins thrumming.

You’d probably appreciate the thought a lot more if you could actually think it.

Joel grunts again, and soon you’re being rolled ontop of his chest after he moved himself similarly, his back pressed to the sheets as yours feels the tickle of his chest hair and happy trail. He plants his feet on the mattress, and you bite your bottom lip with a smile before you know it’s going to fall away with a silent scream of a moan as he starts bucking up relentlessly into you.

Your cries are hardly heard over the sound of his heavy balls smacking wetly against you. His hands have grabbed onto the underside of your thighs, holding them against your body as he thrusts with an amount of energy that should be impossible for a man in his fifties that just woke up.

His hands slide from your thighs, over your stomach to your breasts - his gasps, moans and grunts right next to your ear, sending goosebumps down your neck that feel like electricity. Your whole body is tingling. Not even his delicious sounds are enough to distract you from the slick, sloppy thrusts of him inside you, his tip seeming to target just the right spot again and again until your eyes scrunch closed and your brows furrow.

You can feel his smile against you when you suddenly go quiet, the only sounds leaving your mouth being gasps for air.

Your fingers blindly reach back and thread through his hair, just as he parts with one of your breasts to rub your clit with the rough pads of his fingers in little circles - it makes you arch away from him in a manner that he wishes he caught on video, just to save the moment forever. He flips you around once more to pulll himself out to the top, pressing you into the mattress as he slams back down into you. You’re both jerking forward with every thrust, his hand releasing your bouncing tit to wrap around your neck, squeezing gently to make you float up to that space only he can take you. The sloppy ache of him ramming into you further takes your breath away

“That’s my girl -mmph,oh fuck, cum f’your old man, cum for daddy-“ his growl breaks off into a breathy moan that has your toes curling, your cunt clenching around the thick, warm length of him.

What choice do you have but to listen?

Your orgasm hits you like a train, fire lighting through your body and shooting down your spine. Your hips jerk, pussy fluttering around him so deliciously he rewards you with one of his lewdest moans yet. Just when you think you’ll fall into a blissful afterglow, he speeds up.

“God fuckin’ damn, baby.” The words are punched out of him, broken and rough - just like his thrusts. “Good girl, ‘m goin’ t’flood this perfect pussy, then I’ll fuckin’ eat me outta you jus’ to pump you full again.”

It’s the best thing you’ve ever heard in your life, your head rolls back in bliss at the mere thought, not even mentioning the feeling of his sticky balls slapping against you, so plump and full you know he’ll be able to make good on his promise to keep your cunt stuffed until the sun dips down once more.

You can’t even cry his name when you feel his cock twitch upwards, spurting his release deep inside you, filling you with his warmth in a way that makes you feel blissfully cozy, like you’re safe and snug - ready to settle under the blankets with your scented candles burning in the room while Joel occupies himself by cleaning your cream-pied pussy with his tongue.

He kisses down the back of your neck as he gently pulls himself out, turning you on your side so he can kiss your cheeks.

“You okay, baby?” He whispers, continuing to kiss over your face as you keep your eyes closed.

“Yes:” you sigh, finally in that little blissful afterglow. He hums in acknowledgment before he kisses your lips softly, his hands pressing between your shoulder blades from where they’re wrapped around you.

“‘M gonna make us coffee, then I’m eatin’ that pussy ‘till I can’t no more.” He ends his filthy statement with a sweet kiss on your forehead, and you smile at him from the bed as he gets up, stretching your back.

“I love you.” You hum with a sweet sigh as your back pops. He’s currently picking up some laundry on the floor, bare as the day he was born.

“I love you, honey bee.” He says softly.

You admire his muscled back, shoulders and ass as he leaves the room, snuggling into the warmth of the sheets - no longer overbearingly hot - until Joel comes back to keep you warm instead.

———————————————————————————————

thank you so much for reading, please reblog and comment if you enjoyed ♡

[slut4megantheestallion]

I need all of them so badly 😩

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while I gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling, teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy,moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious,gushy, creamy, beastly, lip biting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, can't walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail scratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, slendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tango ever bro could cause a nuclear bomb inside me and I'd still ride.

#NEEDTHAT y'all don't understand if they were all reall, I would not be able to contain myself I would have gone Feral!!!!!!😝😝😝😝😝

[cirambay-stories]

Sitter

dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

You’re spending spring break alone at home while your father is five thousand miles away when all of sudden, you fall sick. Enter Joel Miller: your father’s buddy, sent by him to check on you.

Warnings: 18+, age gap (reader is in college, Joel in his early 50s), no outbreak, no mother in the picture but your father has a named girlfriend (sorry), no bra household, dry humping, footjob while watching SpongeBob, oral (m and f receiving).

Word count: 6.8k

“Dad,” your voice is hoarse like it has just come out from a dying goose, and you spend the next five seconds trying to clear your throat.

“So like, I’m… sick, kinda, but it’s not really bad, so—” A train of coughs that feels like they are going to tear your lungs apart. “—sorry about that. It’s nothing. Don’t worry too much, don’t even think about it. I just wanted to let you know.” Another coughing fit. “Okay. Have fun, I love you.”

You click your phone screen and let the voicemail find its way to your father’s ancient block of telecommunication. It’s 11 p.m. for you, 5 a.m. in Tuscany, you calculate with your fingers. You might be wrong. Either way, your father is probably asleep. He had been away for a couple of days with his girlfriend Amy for her nephew's wedding. And they plan to spend another week there, because it’s their anniversary, and Amy had always wanted to go to Italy.

“Will you be okay?” your father asked, apologetic. He leaned onto your bedroom door’s frame while you were unpacking your backpack.

“Yeah, Dad, what am I, eight? Go.” you laughed lightheartedly.

“It’s just you came down here from school and then I go, you know. I wish you’d said yes and come with us.”

“And third-wheeling you and Amy for ten days?” you giggled. “Dad, it’s okay. Come on. We’ll still have the weekend together when you come back.”

You heard Amy call for your father from downstairs, followed by a question about his dress shirt. You grinned, gesturing for him to go.

“Me and Amy will make sure the fridge is full, okay?” he says, voice fading as he steps down the stairs. You shook your head. You’ve survived on dry ramens and day-old coffees in college. You would be okay. Right?

Loud buzzer sound. The game show on the TV you put on to distract yourself from the fever is not doing a good job. You try to focus, but the noises coming out of it sound muffled, and the colors are just so bright and saturated that they make your head spin. You click on mute before slamming the remote on the coffee table, and it lands safely on some crumpled Kleenex. A thermometer is sitting next to the box, the tiny display screen blank. It’s broken, and you make a mental note to scold your father for always keeping faulty things around the house as if he’s going to fix them. A few bottles of pills you fished out of your father’s medicine cabinet to at least ease your aching muscles are toppled next to a half-empty Nyquil Nighttime Relief bottle with its cap screwed but crooked.

You second-guess your decision to let your father know that you’re unwell. But again, he hates surprises, so letting him know that he might find your rotting corpse in front of his TV when he gets back is, perhaps, doing him a favor.

It’s dark in the living room, and the leather couch is sticking to your sweaty leg. You should probably put sweatpants and a hoodie on instead of biker shorts and a stretched out shirt that looks more like a rag than a proper clothing item. But climbing the stairs now? No, thank you.

You shift your body, trying to find the best position to fall asleep in since the wrong angle seems to block your nasal passage. A groan leaves your throat when you can’t pull the fleece blanket to cover your body. You find out you are sitting on both ends of it. To hell with it.

You blink slowly. The Nyquil seems to start working. Can’t sneeze or cough if you’re knocked out, you think. You close your eyes, the colors from the TV somehow find their way in and flash washed-out red, white, yellow behind your eyelids. You’re too tired to reach for the remote.

Maybe you’ll feel better when you wake up.

You jolt when something cold makes contact with your forehead. Within microseconds, you yeet the thing away hysterically, hitting yourself in the process. The thing flies and lands on the wooden floor with a wet, thwap sound.

“Easy, easy,”

If it was just a little bit not so sudden and confusing and designed to constrict your blood vessels until your organs fail, you would have yelped. You nearly snap your neck trying to find the source of the voice, and your tense shoulders fall as quickly as they were raised when you notice the familiar face belonging to a broad frame standing next to the couch.

It’s Joel Miller.

Of course it’s him. Your father likely has him on speed dial.

He and your father go way back. Went to the same school, crushed on the same girls, hit the same bong, and so on. They were even in a band together. Your father has pictures of them from years ago, with greasy hair, earrings, bass and drumsticks in their hands. Cringe.

Well, just your father. Not Joel though.

You haven’t seen him in like, what, a year? And yet he looks good as ever. Well, Joel has always looked good his whole life. When you saw the pictures of him from high school you thought, Oh Fuck, I Would Totally Have A Crush On This Guy. And then you had to sit in silence and ponder, because, well, you are having a crush on this guy. Sort of. Maybe.

He bends over to pick up the thing you just yeeted on the floor, which is apparently a washcloth, and dunk it in a basin on the side table, which is now clean from all the stuff that was previously there.

“Joel,” you chirp. “Hi.”

“Hey.” he smiles as he squeezes the washcloth. Beads of water come trickling down his knuckles back to the basin, gleaming in front of the still-turned-on TV.  “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay. What time is this?” you straighten up, rummaging around the blanket to find your phone to no avail.

“One-thirty. Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. Your old man asked me to check on you." He folds the cloth in two and dab it before stepping closer and pressing it against your forehead, nice and cold. His other hand supports your head from the back, basically cradling your skull.

“Your front door was unlocked when I came in.” says Joel, as if you are capable of digesting any kind of information at the moment. “You shouldn’t do that.”

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly. “And sorry my Dad made you come here. You didn’t have to, it’s not so bad.”

“Come on, it’s only a ten minute drive. ‘S okay. I checked your forehead. Not too bad, but still a fever, y’know. You took the Nyquil?”

The thought of Joel Miller touching your forehead with his palm in the dark while you were asleep somehow makes the neurons in your brain stop interlinking for a second. Were you sleeping with your mouth open the whole time? You knew you did fall asleep that way since you couldn’t breathe through your nose. Man.

“I did.” you nod, shaking the thought away. You feel your lungs tighten, though. Another coughing fit incoming.

“Good,” Joel presses his hand to your forehead again as if trying to make sure the wet washcloth is properly glued onto your face. The soft pressure disrupts your composure and you cough like a machine gun submerged in a container full of Elmer’s glue, hacking up thick mucus up your throat. Joel leaves your side with hurried steps and, within seconds, somehow has a paper cup under your chin for you to spit into.

You try to grab the cup, flustered, but he doesn’t let go and instead helps you sit up straight, patting your back.

“Spit.” he says as you wheeze with phlegm in your mouth like an imbecile. You awkwardly grab his wrist for support and spit the mucus out into the cup. Soon you’ll realize how foolish it is to grab someone’s wrist using the same hand you used to cover your mouth while coughing. The string of saliva takes a ridiculously long time to break free from your lips, but Joel is unfazed. He takes a glance at the mucus, likely checking the color and consistency.

“Thanks,” you blink rapidly, still processing.

“You wanna go to urgent care?” Joel asks.

“Nu-uh,” you shake your head. “I’m okay, I promise. I feel a lot better already.”

“It’s probably just a bug,” he pats your back again before walking to the kitchen to dispose of the cup. “How long has it been going on?”

You wait until he comes back because you don’t think you can speak loud enough for him to be able to hear you from the kitchen without tearing your throat apart. Joel thinks you didn’t hear him the first time and is about to repeat his question when you say, “Uh, it got progressively worse last night.” you realize how serious that sounds and quickly add, “But not like, worse worse. I mean, compared to,”

“And before that?”

“Just a scratchy throat.”

He looks like he’s mentally taking notes with arms folded in front of his stomach. It’s the first time that night you take a full look at him under the glow of the muted TV. You can’t really make the colors out, but he’s wearing a dark t-shirt under an unbuttoned flannel shirt and jeans. He’s keeping his beard kind of thin compared to the last time you saw him, but still the same, well-tended mustache that makes a strong presence over his lips. You can’t help but notice the graying strands of hair that stick out among his dark, messy hair, complimenting him so well. You are pretty sure the ratio between light to dark hair has been shooting up this year. You like it.

And his eyes. They’re rich, and dark, and the fact that he furrows half of the time that it creates permanent dents between his eyebrows just makes him ridiculously hotter.

The mucus factory must be working overtime tonight because you can feel the slight slippery feeling of lubrication where you’re sitting. Fucking stupid, you think, read the room.

All of sudden, a lightning flashes, lighting up your surroundings before the grumbling roar of thunder follows through. For a second, you can make out the shapes and silhouettes of everything in the room like a photograph. Joel fits rightly in the left third of this main piece in your mind exhibition. You wish you could take screenshots with your eyes and keep it to admire later.

Joel glances out the window. Heat lightning reveals the blobs of clouds outside, and the strong wind is starting to blow debris to rattle the windows. He shifts his focus on you again. “Did you eat?”

“I’m okay,” you shrug. Storm is coming, Joel better go home before it gets worse.

He chuckles. “Yes or no?”

That chuckle tickles something deep inside of you. You smile shyly. “Yes, Joel. I’m okay.”

Joel stares at you, and you are pretty sure he senses that you did not, in fact, eat dinner. “I’m starvin’, actually,” he gets up and takes his flannel shirt off, and then tosses it on the couch before making his way towards the kitchen. You scream internally at the sight of his biceps like a deranged fangirl.

“Mind if I take a look in the fridge?” he yells while opening the fridge door. Just being polite. He knows your father will let him dismantle the house and take the pieces home if he wants to.

You free the tangled blanket from around your legs, only noticing now how under your old, sweat-dampened, Marlin Club shirt, your nipples are as erect as fireman’s poles. Was it the temperature, Joel, or both, you can’t conclude.

Joel whistles when he finds that the fridge is full. He grabs a can of beer and pops it open, studying the contents of the fridge and thinking of what he can cook for you as he gulps the beer down.

You follow him to the kitchen, jump to sit on the kitchen island as Joel grabs some produce off the fridge and sets them next to you. He looks at you, blinks a couple of times, then occupies himself with the food cabinet over the counter. You try to be helpful by unwrapping the basil and cherry tomatoes.

“So, how’s school?” Joel breaks the silence as he washes his hands. “And don’t just say okay, please.”

“You got me there,” you laugh. “Nothing really amusing, really.”

Then a few more superficial, classic-catching-up questions while you both prepare the pesto. Joel asks about the trip to Italy, how your father mentioned proposing to Amy soon, what do you think about that. You ask about his brother Tommy, work, and the average cost to renovate a room, to which Joel answers in detail really nicely. Then come the usual do-you-remember-when stories, melting down the strange and awkward atmosphere between the two of you. Laughters fill up the room. It’s fun and familiar.

“Did you remember when you used to call me Uncle Joel?” Joel sneers as he tosses a pan to the sink. “You used to be so nice and polite.”

“I was like six!” You snorted. “And you can’t even pay me to call you that again, Joel.”

Then, the once-your-pops-and-I anecdotes. You’ve heard some of them from your own father’s mouth, but you still listen to Joel’s versions eagerly anyway.

At one point, you start to cough again so Joel instructs you to just sit down on the counter. You don’t complain—it means you can just sit back and watch him from the back and imagine how it would feel to run your fingers through his hair.

When Joel stirs the pasta with the pesto sauce, the weather has gone full-blown insane out there.

“You should stay the night,” you try to sound as nonchalant as possible. His presence is sending arrays of erroneous signals to your reproductive organs, which will most likely result badly if he stays, but how can you let him drive home in this kind of weather?

Joel hands you a fork and pushes a plate of fusilli for you to eat. “Eh, we’ll see,” he shrugs. “I don’t mind drivin’ through a storm, but I can’t just leave you alone if you don’t feel well.”

“Dad told me you got a folded chair smashed through your windshield last summer.” You take a bite, the thick sauce coats your tastebuds and you groan in satisfaction, even though you can’t really taste it to the fullest because of your stuffy nose.

“Oh, yeah, that.” Joel chuckles. “I was lucky it aimed for the shotgun.”

He eats standing up across you, one elbow on the counter. When you both finish the meal, he takes your plate and starts washing the dishes. You tell him to do it later, and then offer your help, and he says no to both. You insist on drying the dishes anyway, standing side by side with him.

After the very late dinner, you two retreat to the living room. Joel asks you to take some medication again and you decline, stating that you feel better already.

“Headstrong, ain’t ya?” Joel sighs. “Okay, sleep then. Wanna sleep in your bed?”

“Not really sleepy,” you shake your head. “Feel free to take Dad’s bed, by the way. You have work in the morning, right?”

“Nah, I’m alright by the couch.” Joel scoots to make room for his legs and lies on his back, groaning like every other old person when they finally get to be horizontal. His feet are dangling on one side, his head on the opposite armrest. You take the old recliner that doesn’t even recline anymore near Joel’s feet, facing both the TV and Joel at an angle.

The TV is still on, showing the same game show but already on a later season. You unmute it and watch it together with Joel for five minutes before you realize that none of you has laughed yet, and you ask Joel if he wants to watch a movie instead. He says why not.

You open a streaming service and browse for movies on the home page. Joel probably likes action and other classic old man genre types. You pretend to read some of the summaries and see if Joel perks up at one of them, but he doesn’t seem to really care about the TV.

“I don’t know what to watch,” you admit. “Do you wanna pick the movie?”

Truth is, Joel can’t give a single shit about no goddamn movie. He’s been distracted by so many thoughts in his mind. But he gestures for you to scroll back up anyway.  “Let’s see the trending ones.”

You stop at a tally of newly released and currently popular films at the top of the page, giving Joel a chance to read about them before moving to the next one.

“This one looks excitin’.” Joel points at the screen. The poster shows a man in classic Viking attire, staring intently at the viewer with striking blue eyes. Some kind of pelt is draped over his shoulders. His hands are on top of each other, resting on a sword handle, the blade facing the earth. Dried mud and blood are splattered over his face and armor. The Conquest, it says. You don’t recognize the actors listed. The summary says something about revenge, passion, blood, power, blah blah. You click play.

The movie opens with a battle scene. The movie looks like it runs out of lighting budget, and you need to squint to be able to tell what they are actually doing. Nothing can be heard except grunts and blades clashing. You look over at Joel to see his expression, but he’s looking at you. He quickly averts his gaze back to the screen.

Twenty minutes pass, and none of you are really paying attention to the plot. Not until the main guy enters a wooden tub filled with steaming hot water with his asscheeks out, and then a woman enters the scene with nothing but a thin white veil covering her body. She drops the cloth and joins him. The warm light from the torches is highlighting her breasts.

“Woah,” you look at Joel again, but he says nothing, but you can see his Adam’s apple moving awkwardly.

They kiss, and he grabs her bosom with his humongous palms and knead them. Then he buries his face between them, with the woman kissing the top of his head. After what feels like a millenia, he lifts her lower half from the water, and then puts her down to sit on the edge of the tub before performing cunnilingus. She moans.

You start to feel a pool of heat brewing inside of you. This feels invasive of their privacy, somehow, with no soundtrack added, just fire crackling and water splashing and erotic moaning.

Joel clears his throat. “Uh, maybe we shouldn’t watch this,”

“You’re the one who picked the movie.” you say, eyes fixated on the screen.

“Well, it didn’t say nothin’ about eatin’ a lady out in the summary.”

He reaches for the remote and turns the TV off, leaving only the sound of rain hitting your window in your eardrums.

“Hey,” you whine. “That’s not nice. I didn’t say yes.”

“It’s late. Go to sleep.” Joel folds his arms over his chest, partly staying warm, partly because he’s so flustered he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He then closes his eyes, knowing damn well he’s far from feeling tired let alone fall asleep.

“We’re both adults anyways,” you mutter, but Joel doesn’t move. He’s probably actually tired.

Your gaze is affixed on him. He surely doesn’t look like he’s sleeping in peace right now but he’s still handsome nonetheless. His old shirt is a tad bit too tight around his biceps. You can see the protruding veins beautifully decorating his arms and hands. His legs are slightly crossing with one ankle on top of another, and his breath is steady. He’s gorgeous.

In your wildest dreams, you would jump to straddle Joel, and he would grab your hips and fuck you to death. Is it bad that your immune system is fighting one of the worst battles in your life, and yet your number one priority is somehow to get laid, by this man specifically? It’s both excruciating and foolish. 

The movie you just saw doesn’t help, either. In fact, it makes everything worse. Your mind keeps wandering back to it, the way the man eats the woman out, and then back to Joel, imagining the top of his head would look like when he eats you out. Fuck. You know that if you don’t get to touch this man in the next 30 minutes, you are either going to combust or burn everything in the vicinity.

You close your eyes, try to do the mindfulness practice you once saw in a magazine. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. You repeat “Release me from this earthly desire” in your head like a rookie buddhist wizard trying to cast a spell with a broken wand. You ball your fists in your lap so hard the joints start to hurt.

It’s not working.

Your mind keeps wandering back to different scenarios, different positions, different spots around the house. Low grunts, fingertips pressing your sides, tongue between your lips…

You can’t do it anymore. You need release. You need to at least be able to feel something, a little reward for your throbbing clit. Trying your best to be as casual as possible, you pull your folded legs closer to your body, your left heel even closer to your biker-short-covered cunt, and shift your body weight on it.

The pleasure that has been building up there bursts like a balloon. You sigh.

There are two things that Joel is not: young, and oblivious.

Oh, he is totally aware of what’s happening. You are not doing a good job trying to be subtle. From the non-stop staring, to the constant fidgeting, to the borderline sexual sighs, to the hard nipples, Joel knows you are going through something that is completely different from just being ill.

And he totally understands. He’s been there, done that. There was a time when his back wasn’t hurting and his face hadn’t been ‘graced’ with crow’s feet and age spots yet, when his hormones were at all-time high and his blood liked nothing more than flowing to his cock recklessly at the slightest inducement. He understands what you are going through.

So when you start grinding yourself onto your left heel followed by soft moans, he is not exactly surprised, just mostly in awe of your debauched audacity.

That is too much, even for him. He clears his throat, hoping you’d catch the hint and stop for good. But you don’t, and your eyes are closed and your eyebrows are knitted together in concentration, and your hips are moving slowly, sensually, chasing something, the sight of it stirs something up in his guts.

It is vulgar, and most importantly indecent in every way, but Joel can feel his own arousal creeping up no matter how hard he tries to convince himself that it is not happening.

He calls your name. Your body responds faster than the critically thinking part of your brain and you stop like you just got cursed by Medusa. 

You can physically feel your heart drop to your ass. Your neck moves stiffly to find his eyes like a broken animatronic. “Yeah?” you croaked.

“Do you think I don’t know what you’re doin’?”

You blink. Deny? Act stupid? Admit? Deny, deny. Wait, deny? No, act stupid.

“What… Do you mean?” you say, and you realize that you chose the dialogue option that actually sounds the dumbest.

Joel clicks his tongue. “Might as well hump me if you want it that much.”

Wait, what? Your eyes light up. “Really?”

Joel stares at you in genuine perplexity before lifting one hand up to massage his temples. He takes a deep breath, and in the softest way possible—like telling a puppy she can’t eat electronic parts—sighs, “No.”

“Oh,” you cover your mouth. “I thought you meant—“

“Yeah, yeah. My bad.” he sighs again, sounding significantly more frustrated. He then uses his hands to support himself to a sitting position, composing himself.

Silence. You don’t dare to look at Joel, but your cunt keeps pulsing like a metal detector. You understand that the beeping—desire—will not die down unless you get the valuable artefact from the bronze age—Joel—in your hand. Is this time to be bold and brash?

“Joel,” you call, and you can swear that was not a sober decision, but the stage curtains have been pulled back, and you are pushed to the stage to play your part.

“Hm?”

“What if… I hump you anyway?” you stand up, and your knees are slightly buckling but you act tough and bold regardless.

Joel’s jaws opens and stays slightly agape for a while before he says, “That fever is really messin’ with your brain, huh? Sit down.”

“You’re bricked up, Joel.” you accuse. You don’t actually know for sure since Joel keeps a hand on his lap to cover his crotch, but Joel gulps. Gotcha.

“Unrelated to you.” he hissed in defense.

You scoff.

“Joel, please,” you grouse, voice cracking and desperate. “I want this so bad.” you whisper as you take slow, threatening steps towards Joel until your crotch is not even an inch away from his knee. “I want you so bad.”

“This ain’t right, kid.” Joel puts a hand on the outer side of your arm, and it’s worth pointing out that he’s shaking. “You know that.”

Joel doesn’t tell you that he’s battling demons in his head, and he’s currently losing. A million impulses are catapulting burning boulders onto the gate of his conscience, and all he got is one bleeding, sickly troop with a chipped wooden sword. But he puts his best stern expression despite the fact that his body is betraying him.

He could leave now. Push you away. Clear his head. Come back later. Or not come back at all.

But he knows he doesn’t want to. He can hear his blood rushing and his heart singing battle cry. Not to mention his cock, hard and nearly burns a hole through his jeans.

A long pause. You want to push him further, but you know you don’t need to. The black marlin printed on your shirt does a worthless attempt at distracting Joel from your hard nipples, putting him into a trance.

Joel takes a deep breath. He knows he has lost. “You can help yourself, that’s all,” he nods, more trying to convince himself rather than talking to you. “Just to make you shut up and get rest. That’s it.”

That’s an unenthusiastic barf-colored green light, but it is a green light nonetheless.

You put your hands on Joel’s shoulder before putting your left knee next to his right leg and lower yourself down onto his thigh, while your other knee rests in front of his crotch and presses onto his raging hard-on. Your cunt pulsates in pleasure upon contact, and you let out a gasp. Joel anxiously places his hands on your sides to keep you steady, one thumb ‘accidentally’ brushing your nipple, earning a whine. You lock gaze with him, and start moving.

The friction sends buzzes up your head. You make each grind count, and every single one feels like heaven despite the layers of fabric between your cunt and his beefy thigh. Moans and Joel’s name spill from your lips indeliberately, and he tightens his grip on your body until his fingertips turn white as if you would fly away with a gust of wind if he doesn’t. If you weren’t so absorbed in your own pleasure, you would’ve noticed how shallow and rapid Joel’s breath has become. It turns him on watching you getting off because of him, using him, how your eyelids flutter and your pupils are having a hard time staying in place.

Joel wants to break free from his denim, badly. While he consciously thought, planned, and stated that he’s doing what he’s doing only for your satisfaction and be done with it, it isn’t exactly nice having your kneecap pushing button-flies shaped caves on his crotch repeatedly. Especially not when his cock, which probably has its own brain, has been begging to be taken care of, too.

You, on the other side, are having the best time of your life. As your climax is building up in your south region, you smile at Joel, who smiles back. His hand leaves your ribs briefly to brush the hair that is sticking to your sweaty forehead away from your face.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?”

You nod weakly. “So good, Joel, so good,”

For a moment there you consider kissing him. His face is merely two inches away from you, and he looks ravishing, all sweaty and blushing. And how you just want to have your tongue inside his mouth, his lips all over yours sloppily. But that feels like overstepping boundaries, like a whole uncharted area you can’t cross, spreading the flu aside. You opt to put your chin on his shoulder instead, trying to focus on your orgasm.

“I want to see your face,” Joel says in your ear, his beard grazing your cheek. Takes you three whole seconds to process that, and when you do, it tingles your core. Before you can answer, he continues, “You’re so beautiful like this.”

You pull back, meeting his gaze with flushing cheeks. You don’t know what to say, and maybe you don’t have to. You continue to be dumbfounded when Joel stops your motion and helps you to stand up.

“Hold on,” he says as he undoes the buttons of his jeans. “I need to take these off.”

He quickly kicks the jeans off his legs, revealing a dark gray boxer briefs under. A wet patch adorns the bulge right in the center. He then manspreads and gestures for you to come back onto him, to which you comply. “C’mere,” he says, “I need to feel you on me.”

You straddle him, positioning your cunt right on his cock, and on everybody and their mother, it feels good. No, it feels right. Joel lets out a groan that cuts into a gasp when you start to grind. “Fuck, yeah,” he grabs your ass, helping you settle on a rhythm.

The contour of Joel’s cock, albeit still covered by the fabric of his boxer briefs, touches every last nerve ending of your cunt in such a different way that his thigh did. You pick your pace up, getting the pleasure to build up again. 

“Joel, I’m gonna come,” you moan, voice quivering. You rake your fingers through his hair, your noses almost touching.

“Keep going, baby,” he says through a smile. “Don’t hold back. You sound so pretty.”

The encouragement is shooting up fireworks in your lower belly, and you start making more sounds. You’re close. So close.

“Makin’ me so hard all night, you,”

You whimper as you come, hips convulsing. Time slows down, and it feels like your cunt is pulled towards a strong gravitational force within your own body as you are sinking down a quicksand, all while pleasure forces your brain to reboot itself.

“That’s it, that’s it. There you go. You’re so good.”

Joel holds the back of your head while you’re laying on his chest, limp. When you pull yourself away from him, he presses a palm to your cheek, smiling. “Attagirl.”

When you finally gather yourself, you pull away from Joel, leaving a huge wet spot on where you just had your cunt on, and scoot to the spot next to him on the couch. You are about to lean onto his shoulder when he stands up and picks his jeans up from the floor. He sees the wet trail of arousal you left on the fabric in the thigh area and snickers.

“Damn, kid, you’re practically a snail,” he points to it. “Poor thing.”

You wince. “What are you doing?”

“Puttin’ my pants on?” he answers in the exact same tone, fixing the position of his boxer briefs.

“But you haven’t even come yet!” you protest. “What the fuck? Take them off!”

“That’s not what I agreed to, remember? I help you come so you’ll shut up and sleep. You’ve come, now shut up, and go to sleep.” he lays it out like basic math while you press the base of your palms onto your eyelids, confounded.

“You’re a sick person,” you shake your head, and then point to his crotch. “You’re literally still hard.”

“That has nothin’ to do with anythin’.”

You stare at the open space, like you’re trying to break the fourth wall in a sitcom. Can you believe this guy?

“Joel, your line is ‘I’m going to fuck you so hard.’ Now let’s start again from the top.”

Joel, who’s struggling trying to fit his bulge back in the jeans without hurting it, stops fussing with his button-fly shortly to push your head back—softly—to the couch. “Sleep,” he drags his palm over your face to close your eyelids.

“Joooooel,”

“Your line is ‘Yes, Joel, good night.’”

“Yes, Uncle Joel, good night, Uncle Joel,” you mock as you swiftly jump from the couch and pull his jeans down to his ankle and force him to step out of it. You hear Joel yelling hey, hey, hey as he tries to simultaneously fight you and not hurt you. You throw the pair of pants across the room with all your might and it lands with a loud thud.

“What are your pants made of, steel?”

“What is wrong with you?” he takes a step to fetch it, but you stand up and push him back to the couch. Joel is for sure going easy on you, because if he wanted to, he could definitely launch you through the walls. Instead, he just accepts his fate and stares at the ceiling, defeated.

“Nobody sleeps with jeans on, Joel,” you reach for the TV remote again. “Now let’s watch something again and then sleep.”

“We’re not watching the viking movie again.”

“We’re not watching the viking movie again,” you repeat. “We’re watching SpongeBob.”

Joel groans.

“What, you don’t like SpongeBob?”

“Not my era,” Joel says. “I watched Gumby. Tom and Jerry. The Muppet Show.”

“No wonder you act like the heckling old guys.”

“I don’t, but, sure,”

“Oh, you’re more like the eagle. So serious all the time.”

Joel rolls his eyes. You play the first episode of the first season of SpongeBob Squarepants, and the familiar intro begins. You take a look at Joel in the corner of your eyes, how he has one of his forearm on the top of his head, bicep almost as thick as his head. The other hand is resting on his thigh, and you can tell that he’s at least still half-hard. You wonder how he looks under those boxer briefs.

On the screen, Squidward and Mr. Krabs are climbing a post with a sea of raging anchovies under them. Joel’s lips slightly turn upward. Ha, eat that, Mr. Old Cartoon Head.

You shift so that you’re on your back, legs resting on Joel’s lap. He gives you a look, but doesn’t say anything. Minutes later, totally absorbed with SpongeBob pestering his neighbor with a reef blower, he has a hand on your ankle, caressing it without much thought.

They would have written about you in a Greek tragedy the way you’re consumed by greed and lust. When your toes stroke Joel’s bulge, totally by accident and not precalculated at all, you pretend like you’re captivated by the TV. It’s hard and you can definitely discern the ridge of possible veins and the head of his cock.

Joel exhales, sounding so done and tired.  “I know you were going to do this,”

But he doesn’t push you away. And that excites you.

You don’t say anything or look away from the screen, but you keep rubbing the outline of his cock, which is now more visible and grows slightly larger, with the space between your big and index toe. Your brain automatically puts the ice clinking in a vase while SpongeBob is getting dry under Sandy’s treedome as background noise to amplify Joel’s restrained grunts.

You like this. You like having Joel wrapped around your finger. Soon after, you withdraw your legs and sit up, causing him to open his eyes over the sudden halt.

You stare at him, bold. “Would you like my mouth?”

Joel nods.

You don’t even wait for a second. Joel helps you take off his boxer briefs, the length of his hard-on springs out like jack-in-the-box. You admire how it looks, how the tip is totally sticky and glistening, before lowering your tongue. Joal lets out a sound akin to a whimper as you let your saliva ooze down the underside of his cock and quickly retrieve it into your mouth using your tongue. He tastes slightly salty, like sweat. And if you could smell better you’d see how hypnotizing his scent is, like calling you to stick his cock down your throat until the world collapses.

“That’s it,” Joel says, out of breath. His cock is now grazing the soft wall of your cheek, and he wonders how experienced you actually are because you definitely don’t act like an amateur. You use one elbow to support yourself, the other one taking turns massaging his balls and the base of his cock.

The only downside of this is that Joel can’t really look at your face. He craves the sight of you, how your lips are wrapped around his cock, and how your cheek is bulging like a squirrel full of him. One of his hands crawls up your back under your shirt, rubbing it before it finds a new target: your breasts. He kneads on one, thumb flicking the bud. You can’t help but moan and take him deeper, sending vibrations from your throat to his cock.

Joel knows he won’t last much longer, and he would very much like to keep this thing going as long as possible. So he asks you to stop, averting your disappointment by lifting up your shirt and sucking on one nipple. He’s surprisingly tender with it, taking his time. You reach a hand to his cock again, trying to at least get him off with your hand, but he pulls your wrists back and locks them on your sides.

“Joel,” you whine. “Fuck me. Please.”

“No can do,” Joel answers as his lips are trailing down to your stomach, where he peppers kisses all over. You scoot backwards and like reading your mind, he tugs the hem of your shorts down to your ankle before yanking it away, revealing your throbbing, desperate cunt. He then dives down, nose pressing against your mound as his tongue explores the new treasure island.

Just like in the movie.

You try to grab on something, anything, but the leather couch does nothing but squeaks, and Joel instinctively laces his fingers with yours. The view of the top of your head is exactly how you imagined it would be. The moans released from your lips are rather loud, especially when Joel creates a suction cup with his lips right on your clit.

“Joel, Joel,” you grasp his hands with all your might. “This is fucking unfair, I’m so— I’m gonna—”

Before you get to finish your sentence, your body already decides that it’s time for another release. Your heels are planted firmly against the couch as your hips lift to the air, and Joel lets go. He kneels before your cunt, pumps himself to oblivion and comes all over you before you get to collect yourself, staining your stomach and breasts. Later you’ll realize that the first spurt went a little bit rogue and landed on your hair.

“Fuck you, man,” you complain, sticking out a middle finger at him. “I was supposed to make you come.”

Joel rests his head on the couch armrest, eyes closed. “You did.”

“I meant technically,” you attempt to nudge him with your leg, but he dodges and stands up to grab the washcloth he used to compress you with earlier. He then wipes your stomach and breasts with it, the cold water making you squirm.

“What now?” you ask when he hands you your clothes.

“Sleep. It’s four in the mornin’.” he says as he puts his stained, sticky, wet boxer briefs on and sits on the recliner. So you can’t drive me mad anymore, he says.

You whine, but you realize that your eyelids are actually very heavy. “Blowjob first time in the morning?” you offer before letting yourself drift off.

“Thought you were s’pposed to be sick.” Joel shakes his head. But he grins.

a/n: Thank you for making it this far!!! ☺ I apologize if there are grammatical errors, misrepresented American school holiday system, and missing important tags/warnings (please let me know!)

[quiero-hacer-algo-increible]

Recordé a The Last of Us.

Abandoned mall in Bangkok.

[valalice]

✮ YOU'LL ALWAYS BE A GAMEGIRL .ᐟ ft. 𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓪𝓶𝓼.

ʚɞ summary. a collection of streamer ellie headcanons.

warnings. streamer!ellie. modern au. fluff i guess? this is basically crack. ellie's chat can't give her a break. loser!ellie also if you so fancy it. talk about a strap on but it's nothing serious. ellie fights with kids for a living. wc. 1.4k

a/n. and the crowd BOOO'S... i know, i know literally everyone to ever exist on this app has their own thoughts on streamer!ellie, but i thought it would be fun to do my own thoughts on her <3

࿐ streamer!ellie who grew to stardom during quarantine. much like everyone else in the world she had a lot of time on her hands, so what's better than increasing her addiction to gaming and worsening her already bad eyesight by staring at a bright monitor in the dark? it's not like she had much school work (she did) to care about anyway.

࿐ streamer!ellie whose fan base is her biggest haters that always clown on her. many of the fans who have been around since the start still joke about younger ellie, ellie who was in high school and still cringe when she started streaming. “so, yeah i graduated college. that's the reason why there wasn't a stream on saturday.”

[user000] did you get a degree in loserology?

[user001] bro has a whole college degree and still streams 💀

“i’m talking about my accomplishments and you guys are clowning me!?"

࿐ streamer!ellie who succumbed and adopted a kitten a few years ago, a ginger one at that. her face lighting up when she realizes she has yet to introduce her son to chat. taking off her headset (for once) setting it down on her desk, “i’ll be right back, chat.” leaving her room to find where the small kitten could be.

when she comes back, she holds the small ginger puff of fur in her arms with a cheeky smile. taking the kitten in her hands and holding him to the webcam “say hello to little bro, chat. haven't named him yet, was thinking we could do a poll.”

it was best and worst decision ellie ever made adopting a cat. the best because she loves the little stinker. and the worst because anytime she's on the chat is filled with

[user002] DONTTT CAREEE WHERES RICK

[user003] show us the child

࿐ streamer!ellie who has the worst eyesight ever. she wears glasses and still squints whenever she has to read something in game or the chat.

࿐ streamer!ellie whose desk is some second hand desk she got years ago. it’s gone from place to place with her and chat jokes that it's her emotional support desk. it's often littered with pop cans, various wrappers, notebooks and sketchbooks, figurines, comic books, scratched up stickers, and guitar picks. if she's lost anything her best bet is that it's somewhere on her desk.

࿐ streamer!ellie who swears she's not a scaredy cat when playing horror games, but the moment she hears any sound she's freaking out “chat, you heard that right?” "I'M NOT GOING FUCKING INSANE!" and when out of nowhere her character is getting chased her voice will pitch a little higher “HE’S CHASING ME! HE’S CHASING ME!” when the character ultimately meets their doom she’ll deadpan the webcam, “that game wasn't even that scary.”

[user004] whatever you say bud

[user005] that clip of u screaming like a little girl says otherwise

[user006] now we all know who's dying first in a horror movie

࿐ streamer!ellie who starts to get an inflation of views on her streams from clips of her being posted on tiktok (her audios have gone viral a few times). and who rolls her eyes at all the ‘wuh luh wuh?’ comments, “is the sky blue? are there forks in the kitchen? is the grass green? i love women, women love me.”

[user007] women may have we in it but we do not love you

[user008] is the women in the room with us???

[user009] BRO NO NEED TO LIE WE KNOW U DONT PULL

࿐ streamer!ellie who's mic blows out the any time she screams from a game.

࿐ streamer!ellie who is genuinely so shit at shooting games. chat knows that within the first few minutes without a fail ellie will get shot and killed, yet they still get hyped as ellie gets focused on the game. and when she does get killed, her hands will come down crashing on her desk, causing her setup to shake before stretching out in her chair stretching, letting her hands come on top over her headset before falling down over her face.

[user010] just load up roblox bro

࿐ streamer!ellie who hits a milestone and decides to do those ‘letting my followers spend my money’ it's very short lived because chat is just as unhinged and chaotic as her. “why the fuck is there a maid’s costume? fuck no.” and when her eyes rake over the cart to see that someone added a strap harness and dildo, “YO CHAT? THE FUCK?”

[user011] now thats just sad

[user012] AINT NO WAY

[user013] guys stop being mean :/ we all know it's just going to collect dust and cobwebs :/

[user014] ellie bitchless williams

࿐ streamer!ellie who enjoys doing more laid back and casual streams like building lego sets or setting up a new action figure. she’s done quite a few cooking streams which all end in disaster, “chat is there a huge difference between baking power and baking soda?” “i don't give a fuck if i shouldn't be eating raw cake batter, salmonella fears me.” “uh, should the oven be smoking like that?”

[user015] can't believe i'm witnessing ellie burn down her place in real time

or even a once in a blue moon outside stream.

[user016] ayeeee the gremlin is out of its dungeon

[user017] how does it feel to see sunlight again?

࿐ streamer!ellie who rarely post besides the casual spam of her stories, but is somehow extremely chronically online.

࿐ streamer!ellie who got banned from her mic privileges in roblox and later completely banned. all because she has no self restraint when arguing with little kids, “your avatar is ugly.” some random kid would say, “yo daddy is ugly.” ellie would bite back. and when she finds herself in yet another shooter esc game and a kid thinks it's smart to say "your aim is butt!" ellie’s retaliation to the critique is “that's not what your mom said last night you little fucker!” then shooting the kid’s character.

[user018] kid sounds like he's 8 MAX

[user019] ellie desensitizing these kids young

[user020] TO A CHILDDDD?????

[user021] bro can only get a kill if it's a child

࿐ streamer!ellie who thinks all her jokes are knee slap worthy, but her chat couldn't be less phased.

[user022] pack it up

[user023] 🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅

࿐ streamer!ellie who met you in a lobby when she's coincidentally not streaming, her team needed one more player so she shot her shot, “uh, hey,” she's totally cool right now, her palm totally isn't sweating off of her mouse “would you like to join my team? we just need one more player.” and she plays it chill when you accept “cool, cool. thanks.” but afterwards she put herself on mute and jumped out of her chair, all while her phone is blowing up with text from the groupchat.

࿐ streamer!ellie who tells her chat about it the next time she streams. “had a pretty girl on my team. i've never seen her, but i don't need to. i know it in my soul, it's my spidey sense.”

[user024] u sure u weren't dreaming???

[user025] didn't happened unless we have proof

࿐ streamer!ellie who hopes she'd see you in another lobby, but in reality it's probably a few weeks or months before she notices your handle in a lobby again, but she's always on the lookout for it. and when she does she thanks whoever is out there that she's streaming. she's solo playing this time so there's no opportunity for her to be on a team with you again, but she swears she could ascend into the heavens when you giggle at her wishing you luck in the game, covering her face from her webcam to hide that her face is turning bright red, "good luck to you too."

[user026] we all know she needs it

[user027] OKAY ELLIEEEEEE WE SEE UR GAME

“chat, i’m threw the roof. calling it know we're winning this.” ellie in fact did not win. she yet again got killed in recorded time, by none other than you. she couldn't even be upset over it “pretty and talented, damn.”

[user028] bffr u were her easy kill

࿐ streamer!ellie who by the end of it you initiate a conversation with her “i would apologize for killing you, but i just couldn't help myself.” “oh no, no. it's no problem. i’m shit at this game, it's all good.” "well maybe you could get better if we play together more?” and chat could just see the wheels turning in ellie’s head “uh—” her voice fucking cracked, “shit, yeah!” realizing she's getting a little too excited, so she's gotta tone it down “that would be cool.” smoothing a sweaty hand on her sweats. to say her chat explodes is an understatement.

[user029] WE ARE WITNESSING HISTORY

[user030] WINNERS LOVE WINNING

[user031] U BETTER DUST OFF THAT STRAP!!!!

[joelsrose]

Tangled In Paradise: Chapter 2

previous chapter

my masterlist!

smut in the next chapter promise... heheheh

The soft morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, painting the room in golden hues. Your eyes fluttered open, still heavy with sleep, as the hazy remnants of your dreams clung to your mind. You reached for your phone instinctively, wanting to check the time, but… you couldn’t move.

“What the hell,” you murmured groggily, your voice barely above a whisper. And then you froze.

Joel’s arms were wrapped around you.

Not just resting near you—wrapped around you. His tanned, strong arms, were draped securely over your waist. His hand rested lightly on your hip, his grip loose but grounding.

Your breath hitched as you risked a glance at his face. You shouldn’t have. God, you shouldn’t have.

His features were softened by sleep, the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones now relaxed, his lips slightly parted as he breathed deeply. The faint shadow of scruff on his face caught the morning light, giving him a golden glow. His lashes—thicker and darker than you’d noticed before—rested against his cheeks, and his hair was slightly tousled, like he’d spent the night chasing dreams instead of reality.

He was warm. So, so warm.

And it felt too good.

His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm against your back, his quiet, even breathing filling the silence of the room. You shook your head at yourself, remembering what he’d said the night before about not being able to handle snoring. Now, he was the one snoring softly, the sound barely audible, almost endearing.

Of course, even when he was unconscious, Joel Miller was insufferably charming.

You gulped, the subtle scent of him wrapping around you like a second blanket—something earthy and clean, with a faint hint of whatever cologne he’d worn the night before.

Your pulse raced as you became painfully aware of the weight of his arm, the firmness of his body pressed lightly against yours, the way he smelled, the way his hair looked just slightly too perfect for someone who had just woken up.

“Fuck,” you whispered under your breath, a mix of disbelief and something far more dangerous stirring in your chest.

He stirred slightly, his grip tightening for just a moment before loosening again, his breathing never faltering. You held your breath, your mind racing with a thousand thoughts but unable to settle on a single one.

You had to move. You needed to move.

You managed to slip out of bed, carefully and quietly maneuvering Joel’s arm off you, your movements slow and deliberate. He stirred slightly, his brows furrowing as he rolled onto his back, but he didn’t wake. His breathing evened out again, and you exhaled softly in relief.

Padding across the room, you grabbed your things and made your way into the bathroom. The warm cascade of the shower was grounding as you stood beneath it, trying to shake off the flurry of emotions from waking up next to Joel Miller.

You washed away the lingering tension, dressed quickly in the steam-filled bathroom, and emerged feeling more composed—at least outwardly. Back in the room, you paused, your eyes drifting toward the bed. He was still there, sprawled on his side, the blanket half-tangled around his legs.

You told yourself you weren’t staring—this wasn’t creepy, not like a serial killer lurking in the shadows. This was… curiosity. That was it. The kind of fleeting, harmless observation a single woman might have when sharing a room with a very, very gorgeous man.

Joel stirred, his head shifting on the pillow as he stretched slightly, his muscles flexing in a way that was entirely unfair. His brow furrowed for a moment before his eyes blinked open, hazy and unfocused as he adjusted to the morning light.

Why was he so damn cute? He turned toward your side of the bed first, his brow knitting as he registered your absence, before his gaze shifted and landed on you, standing awkwardly near the dresser.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with sleep, like the rasp of a warm summer breeze against your skin.

You swallowed hard, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that you were staring. “Hi,” you breathed, your voice quieter than you intended.

Joel stretched again, his movements slow and unhurried as he propped himself up on one elbow. His eyes were still heavy-lidded, his hair slightly mussed in a way that made him look annoyingly perfect. “How’d you sleep?” he asked, his voice softening into something warm.

“Good,” you said, moving toward the bed and sinking onto your side, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck as his gaze followed you. Joel shifted, rolling onto his side to face you fully, his smile lazy but genuine. “Good,” he echoed, his grin widening just a touch.

You couldn’t help but smile back, the tension of the moment giving way to something lighter. He had that effect—a way of disarming you with just a look.

“You, uh…” you began, a laugh escaping you before you could finish. “You snore in your sleep.”

Joel’s grin vanished, replaced by a mock-offended expression. “I do not,” he said, grabbing the nearest pillow and tapping you lightly with it.

“You do!” you countered, laughing as you swatted the pillow away.

He shook his head, his grin returning as he leaned slightly closer, his voice dipping into a playful drawl. “You’re makin’ that up. Tryin’ to tarnish my good reputation.”

You rolled your eyes, biting back another laugh. “Trust me, Joel. Your reputation’s safe. But you do snore.”

Joel chuckled, leaning back against the headboard, his arms crossing lazily over his chest. “Well,” he said, his tone warm and teasing, “guess that just means you’re payin’ way too much attention to me, roomie.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but the words caught in your throat as his gaze lingered on you, soft and amused, like he was savoring every second of this moment.

And damn it, you thought, he wasn’t entirely wrong.

A loud knock echoed from the door, followed by Maria’s unmistakable voice, sing-song and far too chipper for this hour. “Wakey, wakeyyyy!”

Joel groaned, throwing his head back onto the pillow with a dramatic sigh. “Christ,” he muttered, his voice muffled as he covered his face with one hand. “Thought vacation meant sleepin’ in.”

You laughed, the sound light and easy as you turned toward him. “You’re lazy.”

Joel’s hand dropped from his face, revealing a grin that was equal parts playful and dangerous. “Take that back.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you sat up straighter. “Or what?”

“Or,” Joel said, shifting suddenly, his grin widening as he leaned toward you, “I’ll tickle you.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t dare.”

His gaze locked onto yours, the challenge sparking between you like a live wire. Before you could move, his hand darted toward your side, his fingers brushing lightly against your ribs.

“Joel!” you shrieked, twisting away as laughter bubbled out of you uncontrollably.

“Take it back,” he said, his voice low and teasing, though his grin betrayed just how much fun he was having.

“Okay, okay!” you gasped, squirming as his fingers lingered for just a second too long, sending a thrill up your spine. “You’re not lazy! Happy?”

“Very,” Joel replied, his voice softening as the laughter between you ebbed into a quiet hum.

You froze for a moment, suddenly acutely aware of how close he was. His hand was still on your side, his thumb brushing gently against the fabric of your shirt. His face was just inches from yours, his breath warm against your cheek, and his eyes—God, his eyes—held a depth that made your pulse race.

Neither of you moved.

The room felt smaller, the air thicker as Joel’s gaze flickered briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes again. His expression softened, the teasing grin fading into something quieter, almost hesitant.

“I should, uh…” he began, his voice low and rough. He cleared his throat, his hand dropping back to his side. “I should shower.”

You nodded quickly, your breath catching as the spell between you broke. “Yeah,” you said, your voice a little too high. “Yeah, go ahead.”

Joel stood, running a hand through his hair as he grabbed his things from the dresser. He paused by the door for a moment, glancing back at you with a small, almost sheepish smile. Then he disappeared into the bathroom, leaving you alone with the sound of the shower starting and the lingering heat of his presence still crackling in the air.

You let out a long, shaky breath, pressing your hand against your chest as if that could calm the wild fluttering there.

What the hell just happened?

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

The breakfast table was a colorful mosaic of buffet plates piled high with everything the resort had to offer. Maria had gone for a perfectly Instagram-worthy selection: fresh papaya, golden pineapple slices, and a delicate croissant resting on the side of her plate. Tommy, on the other hand, had opted for the classic “pile it on” approach—eggs, bacon, pancakes, and what looked like a heap of hash browns drowning in syrup.

You’d chosen something light—ripe watermelon slices, a dollop of creamy yogurt, and a sprinkling of granola. Meanwhile, Joel, seated beside you, had a more straightforward plate: scrambled eggs, toast, and a generous helping of crispy bacon.

The morning sunlight spilled across the outdoor dining area, painting the terrace in soft gold. Beyond the railings, the ocean shimmered, waves lazily rolling onto the shore, the sound mingling with the faint rustle of palm trees swaying in the warm breeze.

It was the kind of day that felt too perfect to be real, the sky impossibly blue, with just enough fluffy clouds to look like a postcard.

Maria set her fork down with a soft clink, her face bright with excitement. “Alright,” she said, clapping her hands lightly. “Today is jam-packed!”

She pulled out her phone, scrolling through their itinerary. “First up, we’ve got canoeing, which’ll take us out to a great snorkeling spot. Then,” she continued, ticking things off with her finger, “we’ve got some leisure time to relax by the pool or whatever. After that, there’s a massage situation booked for all of us. And then, another break before dinner.”

“Christ,” Joel muttered, leaning back in his chair and reaching for his glass of orange juice. He took a slow sip before raising an eyebrow at Maria. “You sure this isn’t boot camp?”

“Hey,” Tommy interjected, pointing his fork in Joel’s direction. “We paid for this shit, so we might as well get our money’s worth.”

Joel rolled his eyes, his lips twitching into a faint grin.

“What d’you think, sweetheart?” Tommy said, turning his attention to you.

You smiled, spearing a piece of watermelon with your fork. “Sounds amazing,” you said, taking a bite and savoring the burst of sweetness.

“Good,” Tommy said with a triumphant nod. “See, Joel? Why can’t you be more like this one?”

Joel let out a quiet laugh, his gaze sliding over to you as he reached for his coffee cup. As he took a sip, your gaze flicked to the lineup of drinks in front of him: orange juice, coffee, and what looked like a bottle of water.

You couldn’t resist. “Jesus, Joel,” you said, tilting your head as you gestured toward his array. “How many drinks does one man need?”

He glanced at the table in front of him, then back at you with a playful shrug. “What can I say? Gotta stay hydrated. It’s gonna be a long day, remember?”

You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “Hydrated or caffeinated?”

“Both,” he said with a wink, taking another sip of coffee. “Gotta keep up with you.”

Maria, clearly oblivious to the banter, was already chattering about how excited she was for the snorkeling.

Tommy chimed in occasionally, but your attention was stuck on Joel—the way his grin lingered just a little too long, the way the sunlight caught the faint scruff on his jaw, the way he seemed to make the most mundane things—like sipping coffee—look effortless.

You shook your head, turning back to your plate. It was going to be a long day indeed.

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

Joel lay sprawled across the bed, his red swim trunks low on his hips and his bare chest catching the sunlight filtering through the curtains. His phone was in one hand, the other resting lazily across his stomach as he scrolled with a contented sigh. “Jesus,” he called out, his voice breaking the quiet hum of the room. “How long does it take to put on a swimsuit? Maria’s gonna kill me, then you, if we’re late.”

“Shut up, Joel,” you called back from the bathroom, your tone sharp but not without a smile.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, a grin audible in his voice as he returned to his scrolling.

You exhaled slowly, looking at your reflection in the mirror. The bikini fit perfectly, its fabric hugging your curves, but you found yourself adjusting the straps for what felt like the hundredth time. Why were you so nervous? It was just a swimsuit. It wasn’t like Joel hadn’t seen people in far less before.

Your gaze drifted down, taking in the lines of your body with a critical eye. The curve of your stomach, the way your hips flared, the softness in places that didn’t quite match the airbrushed perfection you’d seen in magazines. You bit your lip, suddenly self-conscious.

“Hey,” Joel called out again, his voice softer now, tinged with curiosity. “You sure you’re all good in there?”

“Yeah,” you answered quickly, pulling on your swim cover-up and giving yourself one last glance.

As you opened the bathroom door, Joel glanced up from his phone. The way his eyes lit up, his lips curving into a slow, genuine smile, made your pulse falter for a second.

“Alright,” he said, swinging his legs off the bed and standing with an easy stretch. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

You tried to ignore the warmth spreading up your neck as he grabbed his towel and gestured for you to follow.

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

The beach was postcard-perfect, the sand a soft, powdery white that stretched endlessly under the vibrant turquoise sky. The waves lapped gently at the shore, their rhythmic sound blending with the occasional laughter of other vacationers. The salty tang of the ocean hung in the warm air, mingling with the faint scent of sunscreen as the sun kissed your skin.

Joel walked beside you, his towel slung over one broad shoulder, his gait unhurried, as though he owned every step he took. His confidence was maddening, casual in a way that made it seem effortless.

Ahead, Maria and Tommy stood near a row of brightly colored canoes, their chatter punctuated by Maria’s bubbly laughter as Tommy wrestled with his life vest straps. The canoeing instructor, a lean man with sun-bleached hair and an easy smile, waved you over.

“Finally!” Maria called, her hands on her hips. “What took you guys so long?”

Joel smirked, his hand brushing lightly against the small of your back as he stepped ahead of you. The touch was fleeting, barely there, but enough to send a ripple of warmth through you.

“Blame the roomie,” Joel said, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. “Takes forever to get ready.”

Your jaw dropped, and you turned to glare at him. “Excuse me?”

He shrugged, his smirk widening. “Just callin’ it like I see it.”

Maria laughed, rolling her eyes. “Alright, lovebirds, let’s get moving before we miss our spot.”

Before you could correct her, the instructor approached, his grin wide and welcoming. “Hello, beautiful couple,” he greeted.

“Oh, we’re not—” you started, but Joel cut in smoothly, stepping forward with a hand outstretched.

“Hi,” Joel said, his voice easy and confident. “Name’s Joel.”

The instructor—Kai—shook his hand, smiling. “Pleasure to meet you, Joel. And you?”

You replied with your name whilst Joel slid his arm around your waist like it belonged there. “But you can just call her perfect. Isn’t she?”

Your mouth fell open, a mix of disbelief and embarrassment flooding your chest.

Kai smiled warmly, nodding. “Yes, very.”

“Thanks, man,” Joel replied with a wink. “Two years together, and she still keeps me on my toes.”

“Alright,” Kai said, handing you both life vests. “Pop these on, and I’ll guide you to your canoe.”

“Yes, sir,” Joel replied, saluting jokingly as he took the vest.

You turned to Joel as Kai walked back toward Maria and Tommy, your voice low but sharp. “Seriously, Joel?”

“What?” Joel shrugged innocently as he pulled on his life vest. “It is a couples vacation.”

You rolled your eyes, fumbling with your straps when you realized something: you still had your swim cover on.

“Shit,” you muttered, biting your lip as your fingers hovered at the hem of the light fabric. You hesitated for a moment, but there was no avoiding it. The life vest wouldn’t fit properly over the cover.

You shook off your doubts, pulling the cover over your head in one swift motion and stuffing it into your bag. Grabbing the life vest from the ground, you were too focused on fastening the straps to notice Joel’s gaze.

But Joel noticed everything.

His hand froze mid-buckle, his gaze fixed on you, tracing the way your red swimsuit hugged your body. The way the fabric dipped and clung to your curves, the soft swell of your chest, the way your thighs looked under the bright sunlight. Holy shit, he thought, his mind scrambling for words as his throat went dry.

You, completely unaware of Joel’s lingering gaze, fumbled with your straps, your cheeks burning from the rush of heat brought on by the sun, his presence, and the vulnerability of standing there in nothing but your swimsuit. Your hair clung to your face, the strands sticking stubbornly as your fingers trembled over the life vest’s clasps.

“Fuck,” you murmured under your breath, the frustration bubbling up as everything seemed to work against you.

Joel, who had been pretending to adjust his own straps while watching you from the corner of his eye, stepped forward. His voice dropped low, warm and steady. “Here,” he murmured, closing the small gap between you. “Let me do it.”

You froze as he reached out, his hands brushing lightly over yours before taking over. His fingers moved with a practiced ease, tugging and adjusting the straps until the vest fit snugly against your frame. He was so close you could feel the faint warmth of his skin, his scent—a mix of the ocean breeze and sunscreen—wrapping around you like a blanket.

“There,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. “Can’t leave you unbuckled now, can we?”

You looked up, your breath catching as you caught the faintest flicker of something in his eyes—an openness, a quiet sort of tenderness beneath his usual teasing grin.

“You look—” Joel began, his voice softer now, but whatever he was going to say was cut off by Maria’s voice calling out from the shore.

“Let’s go, people! Canoes are waiting!”

Joel stepped back, the moment dissolving into the salty air. His hand brushed your shoulder lightly—a fleeting touch that sent an electric warmth rippling through you.

“C’mon, roomie,” he said, his grin returning as he glanced over his shoulder, his brown eyes sparkling with mischief. “Can’t keep Maria waiting.”

You let out a shaky breath, grabbing your paddle and falling into step behind him as he led the way toward the water.

The sun blazed above, the waves lapping gently at the shore, and the rhythmic crunch of sand beneath your feet mixed with the hum of the ocean. Your heart raced—not from the heat or exertion, but from the way Joel had looked at you just moments ago. Like you were the only thing worth seeing.

This was going to be a long, long day.

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

“Alright,” Kai began, his voice calm and steady as he gestured toward the canoes. “A few safety things, my beautiful couples.”

Then, as if on cue, his arm slid around your waist, his hand settling against the curve of your hip. The gesture was so smooth, so natural, it startled you for half a second. The other hand still held his paddle, but his focus was entirely on you.

You felt his warmth immediately, the strength of his touch grounding you. Instinctively, your arm looped around his waist, your fingers brushing against his skin.

“There we go,” Joel murmured, his voice low and close against your ear, his breath brushing against your hair. “Not so hard, huh?”

“Shut up and listen,” you whispered back, though the corner of your mouth betrayed you, tugging upward into a small smile.

Kai smiled warmly, his sun-bleached hair catching the light. “Life vests stay on at all times. Keep your paddle movements synchronized—makes things much easier. And most importantly, relax and enjoy. This is supposed to be fun.”

Beside you, Maria nodded eagerly, already clutching Tommy’s arm like they were gearing up for an Olympic event. Joel, however, seemed completely at ease, standing with his paddle resting casually against his shoulder.

Kai clapped his hands together, breaking the moment. “Alright! Now I’ll help you settle into the canoes.”

He reached out, his hand steady as he gestured for you to step forward. “Ladies first,” he said with a kind smile.

You placed your hand in his, letting him guide you carefully into the canoe. The wooden surface dipped slightly under your weight, the gentle sway of the water rocking the vessel.

“Thanks, Kai,” you murmured, settling yourself onto the front seat.

Kai nodded before turning to Joel. “Alright, hop in behind her.”

Joel stepped forward, his movements deliberate as he climbed into the narrow canoe. The space was tight—too tight—and as he sat down behind you, his chest practically pressed against your back.

You froze for a moment, acutely aware of every inch of him. The way his thighs bracketed yours, the solid heat of his torso against you, the faint brush of his breath near your neck.

“Small canoe, huh?” Joel murmured, his voice dipping into that warm, teasing drawl.

You turned your head just enough to catch his gaze, his brown eyes glinting with mischief. “Is that a complaint?” you asked, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest.

“Not at all,” he replied, his grin widening as his hands adjusted the paddle across his lap. “I’m likin’ the view from back here.”

You rolled your eyes, turning your attention back to the water, but the warmth blooming in your cheeks betrayed you.

“You good up there?” Joel asked, his voice softer now, the teasing note replaced with something gentler.

You nodded, unable to trust your voice as the water lapped softly against the sides of the canoe.

“Alright,” Kai called out from the shore, his voice pulling you back to the moment. “You’re all set! Follow the guide, and you’ll be at the snorkeling spot in no time.”

“Bye, Kai!” Tommy shouted, his voice carrying over the gentle crash of the waves as he and Maria’s canoe began to glide ahead.

Tommy twisted slightly in his seat, throwing a glance over his shoulder toward your canoe. “Last one there’s a rotten egg!” he hollered, his tone full of childish glee.

“Fuckin' child,” Joel muttered under his breath, the corner of his mouth twitching as he adjusted his paddle in the water.

You laughed softly, turning your head just enough to catch his expression. “Thought you’d be all over the competition,” you teased, your tone light as you dipped your own paddle into the water.

Joel leaned back slightly, the movement so casual it sent another wave of warmth radiating from where his knees bracketed yours. His drawl was slow and deliberate as he replied, “Yeah, usually. But…” He paused, his voice dropping just enough to make you glance back at him again. His dark eyes caught the sunlight, softening as they settled on you. “I don’t really wanna rush this.”

Your breath hitched slightly, and you quickly turned your gaze back to the water, grateful he couldn’t see the blush blooming across your cheeks. The soft lapping of the ocean seemed to amplify the silence, the moment hanging delicately in the air.

“Don’t get shy on me now,” Joel added, his voice dipping into that playful drawl that sent your pulse skittering.

You shook your head, biting back a smile. “I’m not shy,” you countered, though the warmth creeping up your neck betrayed you.

“Good,” Joel murmured, his paddle dipping into the water with smooth precision, guiding the canoe forward in an unhurried rhythm. His voice, low and deliberate, sent ripples through the air as surely as the paddle stirred the water. “’Cause I don’t plan on rushin’ any of this.”

Your breath caught, the words settling over you like the warmth of the sun, and before you could respond, you felt it—a gentle brush against your back.

Joel’s hand, warm and steady, moved to sweep your hair off your shoulder, the strands catching slightly against his rough fingertips. The motion was casual, deliberate, like he’d done it a thousand times before, though you both knew he hadn’t. His fingers lingered as they slid over the curve of your shoulder, tracing random, absentminded shapes against your skin.

A circle.

A letter—maybe the start of your name.

A heart.

The paddle in your hands suddenly felt heavier, your grip tightening as you tried to focus on anything other than the steady, lazy patterns he was drawing.

The teasing lilt in his voice still lingered in the air, but beneath it, there was something softer, something quiet and sure. It was that steadiness that left you breathless, the way his touch spoke a language you didn’t quite know how to name yet.

You dared a glance over your shoulder, your heart pounding against your ribs, but Joel’s eyes were fixed on the water. His face was relaxed, his lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile, like he wasn’t fully aware of the way he was undoing you. Or maybe he was, and that was the worst part.

Tommy and Maria’s laughter floated back to you from ahead, breaking the moment like a wave against the shore.

“Better keep up,” Joel said, his voice light now, the teasing edge returning. He shifted slightly, his hand falling back to his paddle. “Or Tommy’s gonna gloat all day.”

You exhaled, shaking your head to clear the haze he’d left behind. Glancing back at him, you let a small smile tug at the corners of your mouth. “Then stop holding me back.”

Joel’s laugh rumbled low and warm, the sound wrapping around you like a familiar melody. “Alright, alright,” he drawled, dipping his paddle into the water with purpose. “Let’s show ’em what we’ve got.”

The two of you found a rhythm quickly, your paddles slicing through the sparkling water in unison. The canoe glided smoothly over the waves, the sunlight catching in golden streaks across the surface. The distant hum of the ocean filled the silence between your playful exchanges, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that felt shared, almost sacred, as though the air between you held something fragile and new.

You stole a glance at him again, watching as he focused on the water ahead, his brow furrowing slightly in concentration. There was an ease to Joel—something that made you feel both grounded and entirely unmoored all at once.

And as the two of you paddled forward, the waves lapping gently against the canoe, you couldn’t shake the thought that this trip was about to change everything.

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

When you reached the snorkeling spot, your breath caught in your throat. The water was impossibly clear, a shimmering expanse of turquoise and deep azure stretching out before you. Beneath the surface, you could already see flashes of vibrant coral and darting fish, their colors bright and alive.

Tommy and Maria had beaten you there, their canoe already tied off and bobbing gently near the guide’s boat. They were standing on a small platform, Maria excitedly chatting as Tommy adjusted her snorkel gear.

Joel’s voice pulled you back. “I don’t know how it keeps gettin’ better,” he murmured, his tone quieter than usual, almost reverent. His gaze wasn’t on the water, though—it was on you, his brown eyes warm and steady as they took you in.

You turned away quickly, focusing on the task of securing the canoe.

Joel hopped out first, the canoe rocking slightly as his feet hit the platform. He turned back to you, holding out a hand. “C’mon, roomie. Don’t make me carry you outta there.”

You rolled your eyes but placed your hand in his. His grip was firm, his palm warm against yours as he steadied you, his other hand brushing lightly against your waist as you stepped out onto the platform.

The guide handed you your snorkeling gear, a mask and fins. You fiddled with the straps on your mask, trying to secure it, but Joel was already beside you, watching your clumsy attempts with an amused grin.

“Here,” he said, stepping in close. His hands brushed yours as he adjusted the strap at the back of your head, his touch gentle but sure. “Gotta get it snug so you don’t end up drinkin’ half the ocean.”

You stood still, the warmth of his hands and the nearness of him making it hard to focus.

He pulled back slightly, tilting his head to check the fit. “There,” he said with a faint smirk. “Atta girl. You’re good to go.”

You muttered a quiet thanks, adjusting your grip on the fins as Joel turned to grab his own gear.

He slipped his mask over his face and adjusted it in one fluid motion, his movements practiced and easy. With a glance back at you, he grinned through the clear plastic. “Watch this,” he said, his tone playful, before diving into the water with a clean, powerful arc.

The splash sent a light spray over the platform, and you instinctively shielded your face. When you looked up again, Joel had surfaced, pushing his hair back with both hands as he treaded water effortlessly.

He looked up at you, his grin widening. “C’mon in. Water’s perfect.”

You hesitated for a moment, adjusting your mask nervously before nodding. Pulling it into place, you stepped to the edge of the platform, your heart thudding as you tried to mimic Joel’s graceful dive.

Instead, you landed with a far less coordinated splash, water rushing around you as you surfaced with a sputter.

Joel’s laugh rang out, warm and easy as he swam closer. “Not bad,” he teased, treading water just a few feet away. “Little more practice, and you’ll be Olympic-level.”

You pushed your wet hair out of your face, laughing despite yourself. “Shut up, Joel.”

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

You followed Joel through the water, the gentle current guiding you both as you moved together. Below, the ocean was alive with color. Schools of tiny, shimmering fish darted in perfect harmony, their scales catching the sunlight like scattered jewels. Bright coral in hues of orange, pink, and purple rose in intricate formations, their surfaces dotted with swaying anemones and the occasional sea star clinging to the rocky edges.

A larger fish, vibrant and striped like something out of a dream, glided past you, its movements slow and unbothered by your presence. You felt your breath catch, even through the snorkel, as a sea turtle drifted into view, its serene, graceful movements making everything else seem to pause.

Joel swam just ahead, his powerful strokes propelling him forward with ease. He glanced back over his shoulder, making sure you were still following. The moment your eyes met through your goggles, he paused, floating in place as he gestured to something below—a hidden cluster of coral glowing faintly in the filtered sunlight.

You both lingered, sharing a quiet, wordless moment as you watched the vibrant life below. When you turned back to him, his expression behind the mask was unmistakable: awe, not just for the ocean, but for the shared experience. It was a connection, clear and simple, spoken in the language of glances and silence.

When you finally surfaced, the world above felt almost too loud after the stillness beneath the waves. The soft lap of the water against your shoulders and the warmth of the sun on your face grounded you as you treaded water, catching your breath.

Joel moved closer, his strokes smooth and deliberate, until he was just inches away. Reaching out, he brushed a wet strand of hair from your face with his fingers, his touch light and careful.

“There,” he murmured, his voice low and warm, his eyes meeting yours. “Now I can see you better.”

Your cheeks heated, though the cool water around you did little to hide it. “Thanks,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel’s grin softened into something quieter, more sincere, before he turned, treading water as his gaze drifted over the expanse of the ocean. “This is somethin’ else,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of wonder.

“It’s amazing,” you agreed, your heart still racing from more than just the swim.

He tilted his head toward you, his eyes narrowing playfully. “Did you see that one fish? The big striped one?”

You laughed, nodding. “Yeah. It looked like it belonged in a painting.”

Joel chuckled, his deep laugh sending ripples through the water around you. “I’m startin’ to think maybe I should stick with you. You’re good luck.”

“Oh, please,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. “Pretty sure it’s the other way around.”

Joel moved closer again, his shoulder brushing yours as you floated. “Guess we’re both lucky, then.”

The weight of his words lingered in the air between you, their meaning deeper than the casual tone he’d used. For a moment, the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you, suspended in the gentle sway of the ocean.

“Hey!” Maria’s voice called from a few feet away, shattering the spell. “You guys coming to check out the reef, or are you just gonna float there all day?”

Joel grinned, his attention flickering briefly to Maria as she swam off before turning back to you. His grin softened into something smaller, more intimate as he moved closer, the water rippling gently around him.

“So,” he said, his voice low and warm, “what d’you think?”

“Huh?” You blinked, distracted by how close he was, his brown eyes catching the light in a way that made it hard to think straight.

“You think Tommy’s gonna do it here?” Joel asked, his lips tugging into that crooked smile you were beginning to recognize as trouble.

“Here?” you replied, wrinkling your nose slightly as you glanced around. “Hell no. It’s too wet.”

Joel’s laugh rumbled deep in his chest, his shoulders shaking slightly as he tilted his head back. “Too wet, huh? That’s your expert analysis?”

You rolled your eyes, though a grin tugged at your lips. “What? It’s not romantic if you’re dripping saltwater all over someone during a proposal.”

“Guess you’ve got a point,” Joel drawled, his eyes narrowing playfully. He leaned in just slightly, the space between you shrinking. “Still think you’re gonna lose our bet, though.”

You raised an eyebrow, your pulse quickening as his words lingered in the air. “You underestimate me, Miller.”

“Do I now?” His voice dipped, teasing but softer, his gaze locking with yours.

The warmth of his nearness, the way the water seemed to hold you both in a weightless bubble, made it hard to respond. Before you could think of a clever comeback, Tommy’s voice cut through the moment.

“Joel!” Tommy called, his tone carrying over the gentle sound of the waves.

Joel blinked, the spell between you breaking as he turned toward his brother. “C’mon!” Tommy shouted, gesturing toward the reef where Maria was already pointing excitedly at something underwater.

Joel turned back to you with a soft sigh, his grin returning as he treaded water. “Guess I’m bein’ summoned.”

“Better go, Miller,” you said, though your voice came out quieter than you intended.

He paused for half a second longer, his eyes flicking over your face as if trying to memorize something. Then he nodded, a teasing light back in his gaze. “Don’t fall too far behind.”

With that, he pushed off the water, his strong strokes propelling him toward Tommy and Maria. You watched him go, your heart still racing in your chest, the weight of his words and the closeness of his presence lingering in the space he left behind.

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

The sun hung high in the sky, its golden warmth wrapping around you as the canoe gently rocked over the glittering water. The rhythmic sound of Joel’s paddle slicing through the waves filled the air, steady and uncomplaining.

You had given up paddling long ago, letting your oar rest across your lap as you leaned back slightly, soaking in the breeze and the ocean’s soft lull. Part of you expected Joel to tease you, to make some snarky comment about how you were letting him do all the work, but he hadn’t said a word.

No complaints, no jokes. Just the quiet strength of him paddling, propelling the canoe forward with ease.

You cracked an eye open and turned your head slightly to glance at him. He was focused, his brow furrowed in concentration, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing with each stroke. You wished you could see more, the way his body worked with the motion, but the angle of the canoe kept it out of view.

With a soft sigh, you let your eyes close again, the warmth of the sun and the gentle sway of the canoe lulling you into a drowsy haze.

“You tired?” Joel’s voice broke through the quiet, low and gentle.

“A little,” you admitted, cracking one eye open again to meet his gaze.

You hesitated, feeling a twinge of guilt. “Sorry for not helping,” you murmured, your voice soft. “My arms feel like they’re gonna fall off.”

Joel’s grin softened into something warmer, and he shook his head. “Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry for. I gotcha.”

The steadiness in his voice, the way he said it so simply, made your chest ache in a way you didn’t quite understand.

“I mean it,” he continued, his gaze flicking briefly toward you before returning to the horizon. “You did good out there. Deserve a little break.”

You bit your lip, the unexpected sweetness of his words leaving you momentarily speechless. “Thanks, Joel,” you said quietly, your voice almost lost in the sound of the waves.

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

As the canoe bumped gently against the shore, Joel hopped out first, his feet sinking into the warm sand as he steadied the vessel. Without a word, he turned back to you, extending a hand.

“C’mon,” he said, his voice soft but firm, the sun catching the faintest sheen on his tanned skin.

You placed your hand in his, and he helped you step out carefully, his grip steady and sure. His other hand hovered near your waist, ready to catch you if needed. Once you were firmly on the ground, he let go, but only long enough to reach for the clasp of your life vest.

“Hold still,” he murmured, his fingers brushing lightly against your shoulder as he unfastened the straps. It was effortless, as though it was a role he’d naturally assumed—quietly taking care of you without needing to be asked.

The thought sent a strange flutter through your chest, and for a moment, your brain slipped. You wondered—just for a second—if this was what it would feel like to actually date Joel. To have him by your side, steady and dependable, with those fleeting touches and that easy charm that always seemed to catch you off guard.

You shook the thought away quickly, biting the inside of your cheek. Get a grip. You’re just really, really lonely.

Kai’s voice brought you back to the present. “How was it, my beautiful couples?” he asked, standing from where he’d been lounging on the sand.

“It was amazing, Kai,” Joel said, stepping forward and returning the smile as he handed over the paddles.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, Joel,” Kai said, nodding approvingly.

Before you could excuse yourselves, Kai tilted his head and smiled. “Now,” he added, “would you two like a photo together?”

“Oh, you don’t need to—” you began, waving it off.

“We’d love that,” Joel cut in smoothly, pulling his phone from his pocket and handing it to Kai.

You glanced at him, your cheeks warming, but before you could protest further, Joel stepped closer, his hand finding its way to your waist as if it belonged there.

“Alright,” Kai said, holding the phone up. “Three, two, one—Hawaii!”

You managed a smile, though you couldn’t help noticing how natural Joel’s arm felt around you, the weight of his hand grounding and oddly comforting. As the shutter clicked, you glanced up, only to catch Joel looking down at you instead of the camera, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners with the hint of a grin.

Kai passed the phone back, nodding in approval. “You two make a very beautiful couple,” he said earnestly.

“Thanks, Kai,” Joel replied smoothly, his tone casual but warm.

You, however, were less composed. “Uh, thanks,” you murmured, feeling the heat creeping up your neck as you avoided Joel’s gaze.

The two of you leaned in to look at the photo, and your stomach flipped at the sight. Kai had captured the perfect moment: Joel’s arm around your waist, his head tilted slightly toward yours, the both of you glowing against the backdrop of the sparkling ocean.

It wasn’t just a good picture. You did look like a couple—a beautiful one. The realization hit you like a wave, and for a second, you wondered if Joel was thinking the same thing.

But before you could say anything, Joel’s voice broke the quiet. “Not bad,” he said, his tone light as he nudged your shoulder gently. “Might be my new favorite photo.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head.

And as you walked back toward the resort together, his hand brushing against yours just enough to make your heart skip, you couldn’t help but wonder if Kai’s words had struck a chord in both of you.

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

Joel hummed beside you as he carried your things, his steps easy and unhurried, like the weight in his hands didn’t bother him at all. The sound of his voice—a low, rhythmic hum—mingled with the ocean breeze, setting an oddly calming pace to your walk back to the hotel.

“What you gonna do now?” he asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Maria and Tommy had peeled off, deciding to check out the local markets, leaving the two of you with no agenda for the afternoon.

You lifted a hand to shield your eyes from the sun, the heat making everything shimmer. When your gaze met Joel’s, you noticed the way his brown eyes glinted in the light, warm and inviting, as they always seemed to be.

“Hmm,” you mused, drawing out the sound as if you were deciding right there on the spot. “I was thinking about lying by the pool. Maybe tanning, reading a book...” You glanced at him, trying to gauge his reaction. “What about you?”

Joel grinned, his free hand tucking casually into the pocket of his shorts. “Oh, you know, might hit the gym, grab a drink at the bar...”

Your chest dipped slightly at the answer, disappointment creeping in before you could push it away. “Oh,” you murmured, dropping your gaze to the ground. “Okay.”

Joel’s chuckle pulled you back. He nudged your shoulder with his own, the gentle touch a small spark against the heaviness of your thoughts. “I’m jokin’,” he said, his grin softening into something warmer. “I’ll come with you—if that’s alright.”

The pang of disappointment evaporated, replaced with a warmth that spread through your chest. You gave him a small smile. “Yeah. Of course.”

“Alright, then,” he said with a shrug, his grin widening just enough to make your heart skip.

When you reached the pool area, the sight before you was nothing short of breathtaking. The infinity pool stretched out like glass, its edge merging seamlessly with the endless turquoise ocean beyond.

Lounge chairs lined the perimeter, neatly arranged under gently swaying palm trees, their shadows swiping lazily across the stone. The faint sounds of waves crashing in the distance mixed with the chatter and laughter of other vacationers, creating a soft, serene buzz.

You picked a pair of loungers near the edge, the view too stunning to resist. Settling onto one, you adjusted the straps of your swimsuit, feeling the sun warm your skin as you leaned back. Joel took the chair beside you, sprawling out with an ease that made you almost envious.

For a blissful moment, everything felt perfect.

Then your stomach betrayed you.

A loud, unmistakable growl broke the silence, echoing louder than it had any right to. Your eyes widened in mortification as you sat up slightly, adjusting your sunglasses in an attempt to hide the heat creeping up your neck.

Joel turned his head toward you, his brow lifting in amusement. “Shit, darlin’, you hungry?”

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. But your stomach growled again, as if determined to betray you.

Joel chuckled, a low, warm sound that rumbled in his chest as he sat up. He reached for his wallet from the side of his lounger, flipping it open with ease. “Tell that to the noise that just escaped ya.”

“Joel,” you groaned, tugging your sunglasses down slightly to glare at him.

“What?” he teased, leaning over to grab a menu resting nearby. “What’re you in the mood for?”

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes at him through the lenses of your sunglasses. “What do you wanna eat?”

He shook his head, his grin widening. “Nuh-uh. Your choice, roomie. They’ve got all kinds of stuff.” He scanned the menu, his finger trailing down the list. “Fish and chips, calamari... nachos.”

Your eyebrows perked up at the mention of nachos, and Joel caught it instantly.

“Nachos it is,” he said, closing the menu and standing up in one fluid motion.

“You don’t have to do that,” you said quickly, your voice softer now.

Joel leaned down slightly, his eyes catching yours over the edge of your sunglasses. His voice dipped, warm and steady. “Hey,” he said, a small, teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Sit. Relax. Let me take care of it.”

And before you could argue further, he was off, striding toward the poolside café with a confidence that made it impossible not to watch him go.

You sank back into the lounger, letting out a soft breath as you adjusted your sunglasses. The sun was warm, the pool glittered like something out of a dream, and Joel was, well... Joel.

You couldn’t help but watch him as he walked toward the café, the sun glinting off his tanned skin, the slight roll of his shoulders with each step. There was something so effortlessly commanding about him—the way his muscles flexed, the easy grin he flashed to the staff, the way people around him seemed to light up as if his presence was a gift.

He was... perfect.

Your thoughts spiraled for a moment. How was this man single? There had to be a catch. Maybe he was secretly toxic. He had to be—someone this gorgeous, this charming, couldn’t possibly be real without some glaring flaw.

You sighed, shaking your head as if to physically rid yourself of the thoughts. But before you could dwell any longer, Joel was making his way back, balancing a large plate of nachos in one hand, a pink lemonade and a beer in the other.

The nachos were a masterpiece: a mountain of golden chips piled high with melted cheese, fresh guacamole, tangy salsa, sour cream, and a generous drizzle of jalapeño slices scattered across the top. The colors were vibrant, the steam rising faintly from the plate as Joel set it down on the small table between your loungers.

“Here we are,” he said casually, settling into the chair beside you and taking a swig of his beer, the condensation from the bottle leaving a faint sheen on his fingertips.

Your eyes widened at the sight of the food. “Oh my god, Joel. This looks so good.” You looked up at him, your voice softer now. “You seriously didn’t have to do this.”

Joel shrugged, leaning back in his chair as he rested the beer against his knee. “No big deal,” he said, his drawl warm and easy. “Can’t have ya starving on me, now, can I?”

You gave him a small, grateful smile before reaching for a chip, loaded with cheese and guac. The first bite was heavenly, the flavors bursting across your tongue.

Joel watched you with a quiet smile, his gaze soft as you hummed in approval. “Good?” he asked.

“So good,” you managed between bites, savoring the combination of salty, creamy, and tangy.

Joel chuckled, his laugh low and warm. He took another sip of his beer, leaning forward slightly. “So,” he said, his tone shifting into something lighter but curious, “tell me more about you.”

You blinked, glancing at him as you wiped your fingers on a napkin. “What do you mean?”

Joel tilted his head, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners with his grin. “I mean, I’m sharin’ a bed with you for a week, and I don’t even know your last name. Feels a little backwards, don’t ya think?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Alright, fair point. What do you wanna know?”

“Everything,” he said simply, his grin fading into something softer. “Start with the basics. Where’re you from? What do you do? Why’d you say yes to this trip?”

You hesitated for a moment, taken aback by how genuine he sounded. Most people didn’t actually care when they asked questions like that, but Joel’s gaze was steady, curious, like he really wanted to know.

“Well,” you began, settling back in your chair. “I’m from a small town—like, really small. The kind where everyone knows everyone and nothing exciting ever happens.”

Joel nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “Yeah? What’s that like?”

“Comfortable,” you admitted. “But also... stifling, sometimes. You grow up wanting to see more, do more. So I moved for college, and I’ve stayed in the city ever since.”

Joel hummed, swirling his beer in his hand as he leaned back. “Makes sense. So, what do you do now?”

You smiled, feeling a little shy under his steady gaze. “I work in marketing. It’s not the most exciting thing in the world, but I like it. I like the creativity of it, I guess.”

“That’s somethin’,” Joel said, his voice thoughtful. “Creativity’s important. Bet you’re good at it.”

You blushed, ducking your head slightly. “What about you?”

“Me?” Joel shrugged, his grin returning. “Construction, mostly. It’s hard work, but I like it. Buildin’ somethin’ from the ground up, seein’ the results. Feels good.”

You nodded, your gaze drifting to his hands—strong, calloused, capable. It suited him.

“And this trip?” he asked, his voice pulling you back. “Why’d you say yes?”

You hesitated, biting your lip. “Honestly? Maria begged. And I figured... why not? New Year’s in Hawaii sounded better than sitting on my couch with a bottle of wine and Netflix.”

Joel’s grin widened. “Yeah? Glad you came?”

You glanced at him, the warmth in his eyes making your chest tighten. “Yeah,” you said softly, almost to yourself. “I think I am.”

Joel nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he reached for a chip. “Good,” he said, his tone easy but laced with something deeper. “Would’ve been a shame if I came all this way and didn’t meet you.”

Your heart stuttered, but Joel just leaned back, popping the chip into his mouth as if he hadn’t just said something that turned your world on its head.

“So, huh,” Joel began, his voice teasing as he leaned back in his chair, one hand lazily holding his beer. “Wine and Netflix, huh?”

You laughed softly, pushing your sunglasses up onto your head. “I know. It’s sad.”

Joel shook his head, his lips curving into a lopsided grin. “Not sad. Just... surprised, I guess.”

“Why’s that?” you asked, tilting your head at him.

Joel shrugged, taking another sip of his beer. “Figured someone like you—smart, funny, beautiful—would have somethin’ a little more exciting lined up for New Year’s Eve.”

You blinked, his compliment catching you off guard. Heat crept up your neck, but you tried to play it cool. “Well,” you said, fiddling with the edge of your napkin, “I’m not exactly the club-and-kiss-a-random-stranger-at-midnight type.”

“Right,” Joel said, nodding slowly, as if that explanation made perfect sense. His brown eyes lingered on you for a beat too long before he added, “No one waitin’ for you back home, then?”

You hesitated, just long enough for him to notice. “Well, there’s someone...” you started, glancing at him.

Joel froze mid-motion, a loaded nacho hovering just shy of his lips. His face fell ever so slightly, but he recovered quickly, brushing a crumb off his shorts in what you could only describe as a casual panic.

“Oh,” he said, feigning nonchalance. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Girl,” you corrected, your voice light but deliberate, watching as his brow furrowed slightly. You could practically see the gears turning in his head, the flicker of confusion that followed.

“Girl?” he repeated slowly, leaning back in his chair. For a moment, he seemed to falter, his lips parting like he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how. Was he reading this all wrong? Were you—

“Mimi,” you said, your lips quirking upward into a grin. “My cat. She’s waiting for me back home.”

Joel blinked, the realization dawning slowly before he groaned, his head falling back against the lounge chair. His hand scrubbed over his face as he muttered, “You’re somethin’ else.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound soft and genuine. “Well,” you teased, crossing one leg over the other as you leaned back, “how about you? I’m sure there’s plenty of ladies dying for a handyman like you.”

Joel’s lips quirked into a crooked grin, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He shrugged, the movement slow and deliberate. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I mean... I want the whole thing, y’know? Wife, kids, family... dog—or cat,” he added quickly, his gaze flicking to you with a playful glint.

You smiled, your chest tightening at the earnestness in his words. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, his tone softening as he looked out at the infinity pool, the water reflecting the golden light of the sun. “But I just... never really met anyone I could imagine that with. Someone who made it feel... right.”

You nodded slowly, your hand wrapping around your glass as you thought about his words. “I get that,” you said, your voice just as quiet. “It’s not easy, finding someone who fits.”

Joel turned his head to look at you, his brown eyes warm and searching. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Exactly.”

For a moment, the air between you felt lighter, Joel’s grin tugging at the corners of his lips as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Alright,” he said, his voice warm and playful, “lemme see some pictures of this famous Mimi.”

“Really?” you asked, perking up instantly as you set your drink down and grabbed your phone. “She’s the cutest, Joel. I swear.”

His grin widened, boyishly charming, as he gestured for you to hurry. “C’mon, show me. Prove she’s worth all the hype.”

You unlocked your phone and began scrolling through your photo album, your excitement bubbling over. “Okay, okay—here she is, napping on my bed.” You held up the screen to show a photo of Mimi sprawled out on her back, all fluffy fur and tiny paws in the air. “Tell me that’s not the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen.”

Joel tilted his head, squinting at the photo like he was studying it carefully. “Alright, she’s cute,” he admitted, nodding. “Kinda got that ‘queen of the castle’ vibe, though.”

“She is the queen,” you said, laughing. “I basically live in her house, not the other way around.”

He leaned closer, resting his chin in his hand, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Lemme see more.”

You swiped to the next picture. “Oh, this one’s from Halloween, I dressed her up as a pumpkin.” You burst out laughing, showing him a photo of Mimi looking unimpressed in her bright orange costume, one paw sticking out awkwardly. “She hated it.”

Joel let out a laugh, throwing his head back slightly before shaking it in disbelief. “A pumpkin? Poor girl looks like she’s plannin’ an escape.”

“She was so mad,” you said through your laughter, scrolling to another. “But she got over it after I gave her some treats.”

He reached out to gently take the phone, his thumb brushing yours in the process. He studied the picture, his grin turning into a full smile. “She’s got that ‘why do I put up with you’ face. Kinda reminds me of someone.” His eyes flicked up to meet yours, teasing.

“Ha, ha,” you said, snatching the phone back, though the corners of your mouth betrayed you with a grin. “She’s the best. I don’t care what you say.”

Joel leaned back in his chair, the golden light of the sun catching in his eyes as he tilted his head, a smirk playing on his lips. He crossed his arms loosely over his chest, looking so effortlessly charming it made your stomach flip. He took a slow swig of his beer, his gaze lingering on you.

“Well,” he drawled, the word lazy and teasing as it hung in the air. “She’s definitely a cute cat.” He paused, his lips twitching like he was holding back a grin. “Takes after her mother.”

Your heart stuttered at his words, the way he said it so casually yet with a warmth that felt like a soft caress. You rolled your eyes, though you could feel the heat creeping up your neck.

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

You hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep until Joel’s voice pulled you back into reality. It was low and soft, with just a hint of that Texan drawl, like a tether pulling you gently from your dream.

“Shit,” he murmured, his phone in his hand as he swiped at the screen. “Hang on.”

You cracked one eye open to see him putting the call on speaker.

“Joel, where the hell are you guys?” Tommy’s voice rang out, exasperated. “You’re gonna be late to the massage thing, and Maria’s about to freak.”

Joel leaned back in his chair, unfazed. “Relax, Tommy,” he drawled. “We’re by the pool. We’ll be there in five.”

There was a dramatic sigh on the other end of the line. “Alright, fine. Just hurry up,” Tommy said before hanging up.

Joel chuckled, slipping his phone back into his pocket. He turned to you, leaning over slightly to poke your arm. “Hey, sleepyhead.”

You blinked, sitting up slowly as the sun’s warmth wrapped around you. “Hey,” you murmured, your voice still groggy. “I forgot about that massage thing.”

Joel shrugged, his gaze steady on yours. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” he said, his tone softer now. “We can stay here, or you can take a nap back in the room ’til dinner.”

The unexpected sweetness of his offer made your chest tighten. Joel, with his teasing and his smirks, had a quiet way of surprising you. When he wasn’t being a massive pain in the ass, he was... well, kind of amazing.

You shook your head, brushing away the thought. “No,” you said, sitting up straighter and adjusting your sunglasses. “We should go. Maria will revoke bridesmaid duty if I flake.”

Joel chuckled, standing and offering you a hand to help you up. “Well, look at that,” he said, his grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “Me, the best man. You, the bridesmaid. Perfect little team, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, letting him pull you to your feet. “Alright, Miller,” you said, adjusting your towel as you smirked up at him. “Keep it moving before Maria comes down here and drags us both to the spa.”

Joel laughed, the sound deep and warm as he grabbed his things. “Whatever you say, boss.”

As the two of you walked back toward the hotel, his shoulder brushing against yours every so often, you couldn’t help but feel that Joel had a way of making even the smallest moments feel like something more.

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

The couples massage was located on the hotel’s lower level, tucked away behind a serene courtyard surrounded by lush greenery and gently trickling fountains. The space was dimly lit with warm, golden light, and the air smelled faintly of lavender and eucalyptus.

Soft instrumental music played in the background, a mix of delicate piano notes and ocean waves, designed to lull anyone into relaxation. The atmosphere was undeniably tranquil, though the idea of “intimacy workshops” had you teetering on the edge of amusement.

You sat cross-legged on a plush mat, the fabric cool against your skin as you tried—and failed—to maintain a serene expression. Joel sat beside you, his broad frame and long limbs making him look out of place. To your other side, Maria and Tommy were already fully immersed, Maria’s posture perfect and Tommy nodding earnestly along with the instructor’s every word.

“Hello, couples,” the instructor began, her voice smooth and calming, though there was a distinct theatrical quality to it. “My name is Linda, and I’ll be guiding you through today’s couples massage and connection experience.”

You shot Joel a quick glance, and his eyebrow quirked ever so slightly. He didn’t say anything, but the subtle twitch at the corner of his mouth spoke volumes.

Linda continued, her tone dipping lower as if she were sharing a secret. “Before we begin, I’d like us to take a few moments to breathe and connect. This exercise will ground you before embarking on this intimate experience with your partner—an experience even more profound and vulnerable than sexual encounters.”

Joel shifted beside you, leaning just close enough that you could hear him mutter under his breath, “Oh, this’ll be good.”

Your lips twitched, and you bit down on a laugh as Linda began a series of deep breathing instructions. You could feel Joel’s eyes on you, though you refused to look at him, knowing you’d lose it completely if you did.

“Now,” Linda said, her hands clasped reverently in front of her. “I’d like you to turn and face your partner.”

You shifted on the mat to face Joel, your knees brushing his as you settled in. His brown eyes met yours, warm but slightly hesitant, like he wasn’t entirely sure what to make of this.

“Next,” the instructor continued, her voice almost hypnotic, “place your palm against your partner’s chest.” She demonstrated the motion, and you watched as Tommy and Maria eagerly mirrored her, their hands pressed against each other’s hearts, smiling like they were in a rom-com.

Joel hesitated, his hand hovering slightly as he glanced at you. “We don’t have to,” he said quietly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“It’s okay,” you assured him, offering a small smile.

You placed your palm on his chest, the warmth of his skin beneath your hand sending an unexpected shiver through you. Joel’s breath hitched just slightly before he placed his hand on your chest. His movements were careful and deliberate as he tried—unsuccessfully—to avoid brushing against your breasts.

“Perfect,” the instructor cooed. “Just like that.”

You bit your lip, holding back a laugh at how absurdly intimate this was for two people who weren’t actually a couple.

“Now,” the instructor continued, her voice dipping even lower, “I want you to look your partner in the eyes. Really look at them. And I want you to tell them one thing you love about them.”

You couldn’t help it—you let out a quiet laugh, glancing down briefly before meeting Joel’s gaze again.

“You or me first?” he asked, his lips curving into a small smile that softened the tension in his jaw.

“You first,” you said, your voice light but steady, as if daring him to make it through without cracking a joke.

Joel chuckled softly and glanced down briefly, like he was gathering his thoughts, before his eyes lifted to meet yours again. This time, they were softer, more serious, and the weight of his gaze made your chest tighten.

“I love…” he started, his voice a little quieter now, “how passionate you are about the things you love.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the sincerity in his tone cutting through the playful air between you.

Joel smiled faintly, “It’s... somethin’ special. You’re somethin’ special.”

You blinked, your heart doing an unsteady flip as his words settled over you. For a moment, you forgot you were in a room full of people. Forgot about the absurdity of the exercise, the spa robes, the instructor’s soothing voice.

The instructor’s voice broke the moment. “Now, let’s hear from the other partner.”

You cleared your throat softly, trying to steady yourself as Joel’s lips quirked up in that signature lopsided grin. “Your turn,” he teased, his voice lighter now but no less warm.

You took a deep breath, letting your fingers press just slightly against his chest as you looked him in the eye. “I love…” you began, your voice soft, “how steady you are. How you just... take care of people without even thinking about it.”

Joel’s grin faded into something gentler, his eyes searching yours.

“And I love,” you continued, a small, nervous laugh escaping, “how you manage to make me feel like everything’s going to be okay, even when we're doing stupid shit like this.”

Joel’s smile returned, but this time, it didn’t have the teasing edge you were used to. It was softer, quieter, and it lingered in a way that made your chest ache.

“Alright,” the instructor said, breaking the spell. “Beautiful work, everyone. Let’s move on to the next step.”

Joel’s hand fell away from yours, but not before his thumb brushed against your skin one last time, sending a small spark up your arm.

As the instructor continued with her directions, Joel leaned in slightly, his voice a low murmur just for you. “Guess I was right,” he said.

“About what?” you whispered back, your brow furrowing.

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned. “We do make a pretty good team.”

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

You sat perched on the massage bed, your legs dangling slightly, the fabric of the soft robe brushing against your knees as you glanced toward Joel. He stood a few feet away, his broad shoulders stiff, his hands tucked into the pockets of his robe as if grounding himself.

Linda’s cheerful knock interrupted the silence, and she stepped into the room, her warm smile as calm and collected as ever.

“Hello, my couple,” she greeted, her hands clasped together. “You two said some lovely things during our meditation earlier. Truly heartwarming.”

You exchanged a quick glance with Joel, a small, nervous smile tugging at your lips. His mouth curved into something similar, but there was a tension in his jaw that betrayed him.

“Now,” Linda continued, her tone dipping into something softer, almost reverent, “I won’t be here while you massage each other. As I mentioned, this is an intimate, spiritually sexual experience—something meant to connect the two of you without distraction.”

Joel shifted slightly, his weight moving from one foot to the other, but his expression remained impassive.

“But,” Linda added, her gaze flicking to you, “I will give you some instructions before I leave.”

“So, you, darling,” she said, gesturing toward you, “will go first. Once I leave, you will remove your robe so that you are completely naked.”

The words hung in the air like a grenade. Joel choked on his own breath, a sharp cough escaping as his hand flew to his mouth.

You shot him a look—part exasperation, part mortification—but his ears were already tinged red, and he avoided your gaze like it might burn him.

Linda, blissfully unaware of the chaos she’d just unleashed, continued smoothly, her attention now shifting to Joel. “And you, sir, will dip your hands into our coconut oil, freshly made right here at the hotel.”

Joel’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his gaze firmly fixed on the bottle of oil on the table as though it might offer him salvation.

“You’ll slowly rub the oil over your lover’s body,” Linda explained, her tone so serene it almost felt cruel. “Take your time, connect with her energy, and once you’re done, she will do the same for you.”

The air in the room felt like it had been sucked out entirely, replaced with something heavy and stifling.

Linda clasped her hands together once more, her smile bright. “Any questions?”

“No,” you and Joel said in unison, your voices flat and clipped, as if any further elaboration might tip you both over the edge.

“Wonderful,” she beamed. “Enjoy.”

And with that, she swept out of the room, leaving the door to click softly shut behind her.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Joel shifted, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes darting to everything in the room except you. You stood from the chair, crossing your arms over your chest as you took a shaky breath.

“Well,” you said finally, your voice breaking the tension. “That was... thorough.”

Joel snorted softly, the sound low and nervous. “Yeah. Thorough’s one word for it.”

You bit your lip, glancing at the table where the coconut oil sat, the small bottle practically mocking you. “We don’t have to do this,” you said quickly, the words tumbling out. “If it’s too weird, we can just... tell Maria it was great and skip the whole thing.”

Joel shook his head, his hands falling to his hips as he finally looked at you. “No, no. It’s fine. I mean...” He hesitated, his lips twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “If you’re okay with it.”

Your chest tightened at his words, the way he always seemed to check on you first, even when he was just as thrown off. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “I’m okay with it.”

Joel nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Alright, then.”

You hesitated, biting your lip as you glanced at your bag in the corner of the room. “Um,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll just... put my bikini back on, if that’s okay?”

Joel’s head snapped up, and he nodded quickly, turning around so his back was to you. “Yeah,” he said, his voice a little rough. “That’s fine. Take your time.” He closed his eyes for good measure, his broad shoulders stiff as he stood there, hands shoved into the pockets of his robe.

“Let me know when you’re ready,” he added, the words coming out quieter than intended.

“Okay,” you murmured, slipping out of the robe and pulling your bikini from the bag. The fabric felt even smaller now, the strings tangling briefly as your hands trembled, but you managed to tie it securely before lowering yourself onto the massage bed.

“Alright,” you said, your voice steadying. “I’m ready.”

Joel turned around, and for a moment, he just stood there, his breath catching in his throat.

You were lying on your stomach, your head resting in the cradle of the massage bed, the curve of your back dipping perfectly into the arch of your hips.

The tiny bikini left little to the imagination, the soft lines of your body glowing under the warm light of the room. Your legs stretched out, bare and inviting, the faint sheen of the day’s sun still clinging to your skin.

“Christ,” Joel muttered under his breath, the sound barely audible but heavy with something unspoken.

The scrape of the oil bottle against the table broke the silence, and you turned your head slightly, your voice hesitant. “If it’s weird, Joel... we don’t have to do this.”

“No,” he said quickly, already pouring the oil into his hands. The scent of coconut filled the room, warm and heady. He rubbed his hands together, his palms slick and shiny, before stepping closer to you. “You deserve to feel good,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower. “Lemme take care of you.”

“Okay,” you whispered, your body sinking into the bed as his words wrapped around you.

Joel hesitated for just a moment, his hands hovering above your shoulders, the heat of them palpable even before they touched your skin. When his palms finally met your back, you let out a small, involuntary sigh, the tension in your shoulders melting under his firm, deliberate touch.

His fingers pressed gently into your skin, moving in slow, steady circles as the oil warmed beneath his hands. The strokes were careful at first, almost tentative, but as he worked his way down the length of your spine, he grew bolder, his touch firm but never rough.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice barely breaking the quiet.

“Yeah,” you murmured, your eyes closing as you let yourself relax. “Feels good.”

Joel’s hands moved lower, tracing the dip of your waist before pausing just above your hips. He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he tried to keep his focus on the massage and not the way your body responded to his touch.

“You’re all tense here,” he said, his thumbs pressing gently into the muscles at your lower back.

You let out a quiet laugh, muffled by the chair. “Probably from carrying Maria’s bags all day.”

Joel chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “Yeah, well, remind me to give her a hard time about that later.”

As he worked his way down to your legs, his hands slowed again, his touch almost reverent. His fingers glided over the curve of your thigh, his grip steady but light enough to send a shiver through you.

“You okay?” he asked again, his voice softer now, like a tender whisper in the space between you.

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed, the word slipping from your lips as your breath hitched, caught somewhere between a sigh and a smile. His hands were moving lower now, fingertips brushing over the length of your calves, the pressure just right—enough to soothe, to make you feel weightless, like you were melting into the touch.

You sighed softly, the tension in your muscles melting away as his hands moved upward, past the curve of your thighs. His touch slowed as he reached the soft curve of your ass, his palms hesitating, hovering just above your skin. His fingers trembled ever so slightly, a crack in his otherwise steady confidence.

“It’s okay,” you murmured, your voice muffled by the towel but still soft, reassuring. “You can touch me.”

Joel didn’t answer. Instead, you felt the pause in his movements, the faint hitch in his breath. A beat later, he nodded—not that you could see it, but the gesture was almost palpable in the quiet room. Then his hands resumed their work, more deliberate now, his touch gaining confidence as he warmed the coconut oil between his fingers before pressing it into your skin.

His hands kneaded gently, working against the plush curve of your ass with a focus that had your breath catching. The oil slicked his palms, his thumbs pressing in circles that left heat blooming across your skin.

“You alright?” he asked, his voice low and thick, carrying a rasp that gave away his attempt to stay composed.

“Mhmm,” you hummed, a soft sound of affirmation as you melted further into the table. The feeling of his touch was too good to put into words, his hands coaxing every ounce of tension from your body.

Joel’s throat cleared, the sound subtle but unmistakable. Even without seeing his face, you could tell—he was flustered. The confidence in his hands was undeniable, but it wasn’t unaffected. “You’re, uh… good at this,” you murmured, your voice soft, carrying that teasing lilt he always seemed to draw out of you.

Joel chuckled, a low, almost sheepish sound. “Yeah, well... I’ve had my fair share of massages,” he replied, though there was something strained in his voice, a crack in his usual charm.

“Course you have,” you replied, a soft laugh muffled by the towel beneath your cheek.

Joel’s hands stilled for a beat, the faintest hesitation in his movements before he gave you a light tap on the curve of your ass—a gentle, playful signal he was done. He stepped back, wiping his hands on the towel with deliberate slowness. “Alright,” he said, his voice finding its usual teasing edge. “That’ll be forty bucks.”

You sat up, the warmth from his hands still lingering on your skin as you gave him a mock glare. “Wow, Miller. You drive a hard bargain.”

Joel shrugged, though you didn’t miss how his face had reddened—not from the sun this time. He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly finding interest in the corner of the room.

“Well,” Joel muttered after a pause, his voice a little rougher, “Linda wasn’t wrong. This... this is a helluva lot more intimate than I was expectin’.”

You smirked, shaking your head as you adjusted your robe. “It is meant for couples, Joel.”

His laugh was quiet, but it carried that boyish charm that made your chest ache in ways you couldn’t explain. “Yeah, I guess it is,” he admitted, his hand gripping the towel tightly as if grounding himself.

You tilted your head, catching the edge of his silhouette as he stood to the side. “Your turn?” you asked, your voice tinged with challenge, even as your breath hitched.

Joel exhaled, the sound coming out heavier than usual. “Yeah,” he said, though his voice was laced with something deeper, something just shy of restraint. But as he reached to shrug off his robe, the sharp sound of his phone ringing shattered the moment, slicing through the serene atmosphere like a knife.

“Shit,” Joel muttered, his brows furrowing as he glanced at the phone like it was a personal betrayal.

“You brought your phone into our romantic couples massage?” you teased, raising a brow even as you fought back a grin.

Joel groaned, shaking his head in apology as he read the screen. “It’s work,” he said, apologetically. “I’ll be right back, alright?” His gaze lingered, even though you weren’t looking directly at him, his concern evident in the warmth of his tone. “You okay in here?”

You nodded, adjusting your robe as you lay back down. “I’ll manage,” you smiled.

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

The rest of the day passed in a whirlwind of blissful indulgence. After the massages, you’d all retreated back to the suite, letting the warm, languid haze of relaxation linger as you lounged until dinner. That evening brought another spread of incredible food, paired with cocktails so colorful and ridiculous you half-expected umbrellas and sparklers to spontaneously combust.

Now, hours later, the four of you had settled in the suite’s spacious living room. The night had softened into something cozy, everyone in their pajamas, legs draped lazily over furniture like you’d been here forever. Maria and Tommy were being sickeningly cute, giggling and whispering as though they were the only ones in the room. You couldn’t even pretend to roll your eyes anymore—it was almost too sweet to ruin with sarcasm.

Joel, seated next to you on the plush sectional, was a different story entirely. As you absentmindedly scrolled through your phone, you felt a nudge against your leg. His finger.

“What?” you asked, tilting your head to look at him. And there he was. Why did he have to look so good even now, sitting around in sweats like it was nothing? His dark hair was tousled from the shower, drying in lazy waves that made him look annoyingly effortless. His face held that crooked smile, the one that whispered he knew exactly how charming he was.

“Nothin’,” he said, the word dripping with an easy drawl. But the gleam in his eye betrayed him. He leaned closer, voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper that sent a flicker of something through your chest. “Got an idea.”

Before you could even ask what he meant, he stood, clapping his hands together as if he’d just unveiled some grand revelation. “Alright, listen up,” he called, his voice commanding enough to even break Maria and Tommy out of their loved-up haze. “Let’s play a game.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, already sensing this was going to be interesting. Joel had that mischievous glint—the one that promised he was about to be the most entertaining (and insufferable) man in the room.

You smirked, leaning back into the couch as you folded your arms. “Alright, Miller. What’s this genius game of yours?”

“Never Have I Ever,” he revealed, his voice rich with amusement.

Maria immediately let out a groan, her head falling dramatically against Tommy’s shoulder. You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound spilling out before you could stop it. Across the room, Tommy looked as though Joel had just announced the most cryptic game in existence. His brows knit together in utter confusion. “Which one’s that?” he asked, looking to Maria for clarification.

Maria sighed, straightening up just enough to explain. “The one where you have to drink if you’ve done whatever the person says.”

Tommy nodded and Maria eventually admitted defeat. “Fine,” she said, smirking at Tommy. “Let’s do it. And when Joel gets embarrassed about some deep, dark secret, I’ll be the one laughing.”

Joel just laughed, that low, rolling chuckle that always seemed to stir something in the air. “Don’t worry, Maria. I ain’t embarrassed by nothin’.”

His words hung in the space between you, and for just a moment, you swore they carried a weight meant just for you. Whatever this game was, Joel had already decided to win—and somehow, you had the distinct feeling you were his favorite opponent.

Joel had stretched himself out across the couch directly opposite you, legs sprawled casually, one arm draped over the side. His fingers idly tapped against the armrest, the faint rhythm keeping time with the teasing grin that hadn’t left his face since the game started.

You, on the other hand, were curled up on the couch, one leg tucked beneath you as you balanced a throw pillow against your side. The soft lighting of the suite painted everything in warm, golden hues, casting Joel in a glow that only made his messy hair and lazy smirk look even more unfairly good.

Maria leaned forward from her spot beside Tommy, perched on the edge of the couch like she was about to unveil a scandalous secret. “Alright,” she declared, clapping her hands together with a little too much enthusiasm. “I’ll start.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she glanced between the three of you, clearly savoring the attention. “Never have I ever… bought an engagement ring.” Her voice was sweet, her tone feather-light, but it was clear she was watching Tommy like a hawk.

You couldn’t help but laugh, a quick, startled sound, and Joel joined in almost instantly, his low chuckle rolling over the room. Across from you, Tommy froze, his jaw tightening as he blinked at Maria like she’d just thrown him into a firing squad.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Joel interrupted, holding up a hand in mock protest. His grin widened as he shook his head at her. “No playing dirty Maria."

Maria pouted, though it was obvious she wasn’t even remotely sorry. She leaned over to press a quick kiss to Tommy’s cheek, her smile softening just enough to make him sigh in relief. “Fine,” she relented, sitting back with a playful shrug. “No fun, though.”

Maria tapped her finger against her lips, her eyes narrowing with mock concentration. “Okay, okay. Let me think of something good. Hmm…” Her gaze drifted upward dramatically, as if the perfect idea might be hiding somewhere on the ceiling. Then, a mischievous spark lit her expression. “Alright, I’ve got it. Never have I ever… gotten a speeding ticket.”

The room erupted into movement. Without hesitation, Tommy, Joel, and you all grabbed your drinks and took a shot.

Maria gasped, clutching her chest as if the revelation physically wounded her. “Oh my god,” she exclaimed, her voice heavy with dramatic flair. She leaned back against the couch, shaking her head in disbelief. “I’m surrounded by criminals. Actual delinquents.”

Joel snorted, the sound warm and genuine, before pointing a finger at her. “Don’t act so innocent, Maria. Bet you’ve sweet-talked your way outta plenty of tickets.”

Maria smirked, leaning her head on Tommy’s shoulder with a sigh. “That’s the beauty of being me, Joel. I don’t need to break the law. I just make everyone else do it for me.”

You laughed, shaking your head, but Joel’s attention had shifted again. His gaze flicked back to you, lingering with that quiet intensity that always made your pulse quicken. “What about you?” he asked, the question easy but his tone soft. “What’d you do to earn yours?”

You rolled your eyes, waving him off. “Nothing exciting. Speeding on an empty road late at night. Wasn’t paying attention.”

Joel tilted his head, his grin turning softer, like he was imagining it. “Let me guess. Windows down, music up, thinkin’ you owned the road?”

You flushed, caught somewhere between exasperation and amusement. “What, do you think I’m in a car commercial?”

Before Joel could respond, Tommy leaned forward, setting his drink down on the table with a deliberate thud. “Alright,” he said, straightening up like he was about to make a grand declaration. “So, I just say somethin’ I haven’t done before?”

“Yes,” Maria replied with a roll of her eyes, her tone dripping with playful exasperation. “It’s not that complicated, Tommy.”

“Alright then,” Tommy said, his grin turning sly as he glanced around the group. He hesitated just long enough to make everyone squirm before finally saying, “Never have I ever… had a threesome.”

The room fell silent for a beat. Your cheeks burned instantly, but your glass remained firmly in your lap, untouched. You didn’t dare glance at anyone, though you could feel Maria’s amused gaze sweep across the group like a spotlight.

“Jesus, Tommy,” she said, shaking her head. “Of course, you’d ask that. God, you’re insufferable.” She didn’t raise her own glass, though her smirk said she wasn’t entirely shocked by the question.

Your eyes darted toward Joel without thinking, and there he was—cool as ever, downing the shot like it was no big deal. The way his throat moved as he swallowed drew your gaze for a moment longer than you intended, and when his eyes met yours, there was a flicker of something in his expression. Mischief.

Maria caught it too, her eyebrows shooting up. “Well, well, well,” she drawled, her attention now fully on Joel. “Do tell, Miller.”

Joel shrugged, the movement slow and deliberate, as though this was the most boring revelation in the world. “What’s there to tell?” he said, setting his glass down on the table with a faint clink. “I was in college once.”

Tommy let out a low whistle, leaning back in his seat. “College, huh? That your excuse for everything?”

Joel smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a way that felt maddeningly deliberate. “Ain’t an excuse,” he said simply. “Just a fact.”

You rolled your eyes, finally finding your voice. “College Joel sounds wild,” you quipped, hoping the humor would help you ignore the faint flutter in your chest.

“Wild?” Joel repeated, his voice dropping slightly, that teasing lilt still present. “Nah, just… open to new experiences.”

You nearly choked on your own breath, your cheeks warming further. Maria snorted, clearly entertained. “Alright, lover boy, settle down,” she teased, giving Tommy a playful nudge. “Not everyone’s interested in reliving their glory days.”

Joel just chuckled, his gaze flicking back to you for a brief second—enough to send a flicker of heat through your chest. “Don’t worry,” he said softly, his voice low enough that it felt like it was meant just for you. “I keep things pretty tame these days.”

Your lips twitched, threatening a smile, but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, you crossed your arms over your chest and leaned back into the couch, refusing to acknowledge the way his words had your heart racing just a little too fast.

Joel leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming lazily against the armrest as his gaze flicked to you. “Alright,” he said, that unmistakable drawl curling around his words. “Your turn, roomie.”

You hesitated, your drink balanced precariously in your hands as you glanced around the group. What urged you to ask the next question, you weren’t entirely sure.

“Never have I ever…” you started, your voice softer than you intended. You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening before you forced the words out. “…cheated on my partner.”

The room went still, the playful energy from earlier cooling into something quieter. Everyone exchanged glances, searching for the first telltale movement. Maria’s brow furrowed slightly, her lips pressing into a thin line, but she didn’t reach for her drink. Tommy fidgeted with his glass, his fingers tapping the rim, but he didn’t raise it either.

Your eyes drifted instinctively to Joel. He hadn’t moved—his drink rested untouched on the table beside him, though his expression had shifted. The teasing smirk was gone, replaced by something subtler, quieter. His gaze locked with yours, and for a moment, it felt like the room had disappeared entirely.

“Well,” Maria said finally, her voice breaking the silence. She let out a breathy laugh, the sound more nervous than amused. “Guess we’re all saints tonight.”

Tommy chuckled, the tension easing just enough for him to lean back against the couch. “Speak for yourself. I just don’t have the energy to juggle that kind of drama.”

Maria rolled her eyes, elbowing him lightly in the ribs. “That’s because I’d kill you if you tried.”

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

As the hour wore on and the room grew warmer with the haze of alcohol and laughter, Maria leaned forward again, her cheeks flushed from too many drinks and her grin entirely unfiltered. “Alright,” she said, giggling as she held her glass aloft. “Never have I ever…” She trailed off, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, as though the walls had ears. “…had sex in public.”

The words hung in the air, ridiculous in their delivery yet potent enough to catch everyone’s attention. You blinked, unsure if you’d heard her right, before glancing instinctively across the room—straight at Joel.

His dark eyes met yours, holding your gaze for a second longer than necessary. And then, as if compelled by some unspoken agreement, you both raised your glasses and took a sip.

His eyebrows shot up, a flicker of surprise crossing his face as he watched you. You lowered your glass slowly, your expression unreadable as you caught the knowing smirk curling at the corner of his lips. Across the room, Maria and Tommy exchanged looks, their jaws dropping in perfect sync.

“Really?” Maria said, incredulous, her gaze darting between you and Joel like she was trying to piece together a puzzle she hadn’t known existed. “You guys? That adventurous?”

You shrugged, leaning back into the couch with what you hoped passed for nonchalance. “What?” you said, your tone light but your pulse racing. “You guys that vanilla?”

Tommy groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Maria’s scared of gettin’ arrested,” he muttered, his arm draped lazily over her shoulder.

“I am not!” Maria protested, though her voice carried a guilty edge. “I’m just… cautious! There’s a difference.”

Joel chuckled, the sound low and lazy, drawing your attention back to him. He had that look again—the one that made you feel like he was two steps ahead of everyone in the room, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze locking on you with an intensity that sent heat crawling up your neck.

“So,” he drawled, his voice slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every word. “Where exactly we talkin’,? Public covers a lotta ground.”

Your breath caught at the way his eyes lingered on you, heavy with curiosity and something else you couldn’t quite place. His question hung between you like a dare, the corners of his mouth twitching upward as he waited for your answer.

You shrugged, trying to play it cool, though the way his gaze pinned you in place made it nearly impossible. “You first,” you said, your voice steadier than you expected.

He chuckled again, leaning back in his chair with an ease that only added to the tension. “Fair enough,” he said, his fingers tapping idly against the rim of his glass. “Parking lot. Middle of the night. No one around… or so we thought.” His eyes sparkled with amusement, but there was an edge to his tone that made your stomach flip.

“Your turn, roomie,” he said, his voice softening.

You hesitated for a moment, considering your options, before deciding you weren’t going to let him win this little game. “A rooftop,” you said simply.

Joel’s eyebrows rose, genuine intrigue flashing across his face. “A rooftop?” he repeated, the drawl in his voice making the words sound heavier than they should. “Well, now I’m impressed.”

You shrugged again, pretending his reaction didn’t send a thrill down your spine. “It had a view,” you added, your tone light, though your heart was racing.

Maria’s jaw dropped as she stared at you in disbelief. “A view?” she repeated, laughing. “What the hell—were you guys starring in some indie film?”

“Hey,” you said, raising your hands in mock defense, the grin on your face belying the heat already rising in your cheeks. “Some of us like a little risk.”

Joel’s eyes narrowed slightly, his lips curving into a slow, deliberate smile that sent your pulse into overdrive. He tilted his head, studying you like you were a puzzle he was only now starting to piece together. “And to think,” he said, his voice low and almost teasing, “I thought you were a good girl.”

The words hit you like a jolt, and you swore the air in the room shifted. Your laugh faltered, your expression softening as his gaze held yours—steady, unflinching, and far too intense for the playful tone he’d taken. Heat flushed your skin, your cheeks burning under the weight of his words. “Guess you don’t know me that well,” you shot back, your voice quieter now, almost breathless.

His grin deepened, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite name but couldn’t look away from either. The space between you felt charged, every glance and pause stretching into something heavier, something unspoken.

“Alright,” Tommy cut in abruptly, breaking the moment with a question that came out far louder than necessary. “Never have I ever… faked an orgasm.”

The tension snapped like a rubber band, and you laughed, the sound spilling out before you could stop it. Maria groaned, shooting him a look that could only be described as incredulous, but Tommy didn’t seem fazed. He leaned back, his drink in hand, clearly directing the question at his girlfriend.

You raised your glass without hesitation, taking a deliberate sip. Maria followed suit, rolling her eyes as she did. Across the room, Joel and Tommy remained still, their drinks untouched as they looked between you and Maria.

“What?” you said, shrugging as you set your glass down. “It’s part of the package that comes with being a woman.”

Joel’s dark eyes shifted to you, his expression unreadable for a beat. And then, with the same effortless drawl that always seemed to unravel you, he said, “Think you’re sleepin’ with the wrong men sweetheart.”

The casual delivery of his words only made them hit harder, your stomach flipping in response. You met his gaze, half tempted to shoot back a witty retort, but the way he looked at you—like he was waiting for you to prove him wrong—left you speechless. Your lips parted as if to speak, but nothing came out, and his grin only grew.

Tommy, thankfully, was too distracted by Maria to notice. “Wait, wait,” he stammered, his brows knitting together as he turned to her. “With me?”

Maria shrugged, clearly unbothered by the question. “Well… maybe in the beginning,” she admitted, her voice light, though the color in her cheeks betrayed her. “But then, you know, I told you what I liked, and it got better.” She trailed off with a small smile, patting his leg as though that explanation would suffice.

Tommy looked positively scandalized, his mouth opening and closing like he couldn’t quite decide how to respond. “I… Jesus, Maria…”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you stood, your drink still in hand. “Alright, alright,” you said, your voice cutting through the awkward energy like a blade. “I think we’ve learned enough about each other for one night.”

Maria laughed, waving you off as though you’d ruined her fun. “Oh, come on, don’t act so prudish now.”

“I’m not being prudish,” you shot back, arching a brow at her before turning toward the rest of the group. “I just don’t think I can handle any more of this conversation.”

Joel followed suit, standing up and stretching lazily, his movements unhurried and easy, like he had all the time in the world. “Bedtime?” he asked, his voice warm and low as he looked at you.

“Yeah,” you nodded, surprised by how soft the question sounded coming from him. It caught you off guard—sweet in a way you hadn’t expected.

“Alright, let’s go,” he said, draping an arm over your shoulders as though it were the most natural thing in the world. His touch was casual but warm, sending a spark of heat through you as he guided you toward your shared room. “Goodnight,” he called back to Maria and Tommy, who were still sprawled out on the couch.

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

The suite was quiet now, the late hour wrapping everything in a soft stillness as you stood in the bathroom brushing your teeth. You leaned against the counter, the rhythmic sound of bristles against enamel the only noise, when the door suddenly opened behind you.

“Hey?!” you exclaimed, your voice muffled by the toothpaste in your mouth. “What are you doing?”

And of course, it was Joel—shirtless, sauntering into the bathroom like he owned the place. Which, technically, he kind of did, given that you were sharing the space. But still.

“I’m brushing my teeth,” he said simply, grabbing his toothbrush and squeezing toothpaste onto it, as if this were the most normal thing in the world.

You huffed, your indignation melting into a bemused smile as he began brushing, standing shoulder to shoulder with you in front of the mirror. You caught his reflection, his gaze flickering to yours, and for a moment, the quiet intimacy of it made your breath catch.

“You can’t just walk in here like that,” you said, your voice laced with mock annoyance as you bumped him lightly with your hip. “I could’ve been naked.”

Joel didn’t miss a beat, his voice muffled by toothpaste. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

You froze, your cheeks burning as his words hung in the air, casual but heavy with implication. He didn’t even look at you, his attention still fixed on the mirror, but the corner of his mouth twitched with the faintest hint of a smirk.

You spat out your toothpaste, rinsing your mouth hurriedly to avoid giving him the satisfaction of seeing your reaction. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, turning to leave the bathroom, but before you could make it out, Joel’s hand shot out, wrapping gently around your arm and pulling you back.

“Hey, hey,” he said, his voice softer now, his touch firm but careful.

“What, Joel?” you asked, your irritation more for show than anything else.

“You’re sunburnt,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact as his thumb pressed gently against the bridge of your nose. The touch was warm, almost tender, and you froze under the unexpected intimacy of it. “You need more sunscreen tomorrow,” he added, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

“Oh,” you murmured, caught off guard. Your voice came out smaller than you’d intended, and for a moment, you just stood there, blinking up at him as his hand dropped away.

Joel spat out his toothpaste, rinsing his mouth quickly before following you into the bedroom. The silence between you felt heavier now, charged with something unspoken. You climbed into bed, pulling the sheets over yourself, and turned to find him leaning against the doorway, watching you with an expression that was impossible to read.

He crossed the room slowly, settling onto his side of the bed, his movements unhurried as he adjusted the pillow beneath his head. Then, his voice broke the quiet, low and quiet in the darkness.

“Were you telling the truth during that game?”

Your heart stuttered, and you turned your head toward him, the question catching you off guard. His gaze was steady, searching, as if he was weighing your every move, your every breath.

“What do you mean?” you asked, your voice soft, though you already knew exactly what he was asking.

“About… not cheatin’ on anyone.” His words were careful, deliberate, but there was something raw in the way he said them—like he wasn’t just making conversation.

“I was telling the truth,” you said, your voice firmer this time, though your chest tightened under his scrutiny. “Why?”

Joel was quiet for a moment, his eyes dark and thoughtful as they lingered on you. “Just wanted to know,” he said finally, his tone light but his expression anything but.

You exhaled softly, the tension between you palpable in the quiet of the room. “And what about you?” you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

He smiled faintly, his gaze softening as he leaned back against the pillows. “I was tellin’ the truth too,” he said simply. And yet, the weight of his answer lingered, like there was more he wasn’t saying.

The soft light from the bedside lamp painted shadows across his features, accentuating the scruff of his beard, the faint curve of his lips, and the honey in his eyes that seemed to draw you in without effort.

He shifted then, turning to face you fully, propping himself up on one elbow. The way his hair fell slightly across his forehead and the way his dark eyes studied you made him look effortlessly handsome, almost boyish—but the intensity in his expression reminded you there was nothing boyish about Joel Miller. “Have you ever been cheated on?” he asked, his voice low and steady, but there was an edge of something raw beneath the question.

You turned to face him, mirroring his position, your elbow digging lightly into the mattress as you studied him in return. “Yeah,” you said softly, your voice carrying the faintest thread of vulnerability.

Joel’s jaw tightened for a moment, his gaze flickering as though the answer hit closer to home than he’d expected. “You?” you asked, your voice quieter now, unsure if you wanted to hear his answer.

He nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Yeah,” he replied simply. The word was heavy, but he didn’t elaborate. Instead, he exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair. “Fuckin’ sucks,” he added after a moment, his voice tinged with frustration.

“Yeah, it does,” you agreed, your tone softer, though the memory of it stung like a distant ache.

Joel’s gaze lingered on you, something tender flickering in his eyes. “Well,” he said, his voice lightening slightly as a small, crooked smile tugged at his lips. “Their loss.”

You laughed at the simplicity of his words, though the warmth in your chest spread faster than you expected. “You think so?” you teased, your smile breaking through despite yourself.

“Definitely,” Joel said, his tone firm, like it wasn’t even up for debate. His eyes held yours, steady and sure, and for a moment, the humor in his words melted into something deeper.

And then, as if he couldn’t help himself, Joel tilted his head slightly, his voice dipping lower. “And, uh…” he began, a small smirk playing on his lips. “The other questions—you were tellin’ the truth?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion for a moment before the realization dawned. Your cheeks flushed at the confessions from the game – rooftop sex and faking orgasms – but still you nodded. “Yes, Joel,” you replied, your tone exasperated but amused.

Joel leaned back slightly, his smirk growing into a full grin. “Bet it was the one who cheated who couldn’t make you cum,” he said casually, as if he were commenting on the weather.

“Joel!” you exclaimed, sitting up slightly, your eyes wide as you stared at him in shock. Your heart pounded in your chest, your cheeks blazing as his words sank in.

“What?” Joel said with a shrug, hugging the pillow tighter against his chest as he watched you, entirely too pleased with himself. “Every time I’m with a girl, I make sure she, you know…” He lowered his voice into a whisper, clearly teasing you for your reaction to the word, “…cums first.”

Your jaw dropped, your face burning so hot you thought you might combust on the spot. “Joel,” you hissed, your voice caught somewhere between disbelief and mortification. “I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation.”

Joel, of course, was completely unfazed. If anything, the flush creeping up your neck only seemed to spur him on. He leaned back on the bed, one arm tucked under his head, looking entirely too comfortable for someone who’d just dropped that bombshell.

“You’re all red,” he said, his voice laced with amusement. “For someone who’s had sex on a rooftop, I wouldn’t think you’d get this flustered. Don’t act so innocent.”

“Oh my God,” you murmured, covering your face with both hands as though that might somehow make this entire interaction disappear.

Joel’s chuckle was low and rich, rumbling through the air like a warm summer storm. “I’m just sayin’,” he teased, tilting his head slightly as his gaze never wavered from you.

You took a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “Well,” you said after a moment, your voice steadier now, though you still refused to meet his eyes. “Some guys don’t have the same… sexual mindset as you, Joel.”

That got his attention. His eyebrows lifted slightly, his grin growing even more amused. “Sexual mindset?” he repeated, his tone dripping with curiosity. “Do tell.”

“I’m serious,” you said, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. You shifted on the bed, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket as you tried to explain. “In a perfect world, sure, you always, you know…” You paused, struggling to find the words.

“Climax,” Joel supplied smoothly, his voice casual, though the way his lips twitched made it clear he was thoroughly enjoying this.

You groaned, throwing him a glare. “Yes, fine. Climax. But sometimes that doesn’t happen. That’s just life.”

Joel shook his head, his expression turning uncharacteristically serious as a scoff escaped him. “You’re so wrong,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You blinked at him, “What?” you asked, sitting up straighter. “You’re the sex guru now, telling me I’m wrong?”

“Damn right, I am,” Joel replied without missing a beat, propping himself up on one elbow to face you directly. The soft glow of the bedside lamp caught the curve of his jaw, the flicker of intensity in his dark eyes. They locked onto yours, steady and unflinching, the playful edge in his voice shifting into something deeper, weightier. “It ain’t just about sex. It’s about listenin’. Payin’ attention to her, the way her body responds. And, you know, communicating if somethin’ doesn’t feel good.”

You looked at him then, really looked at him, and for a moment, the rest of the world faded into the background. It wasn’t just the way he said it, like it was the simplest truth in the world—it was the conviction in his voice, the quiet confidence that hinted at experience, understanding. Your mind wandered briefly, unbidden, to the women who’d been lucky enough to have him like that, to be cared for in the way he described. You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening.

“So,” Joel said, his grin returning, softer this time but no less teasing. “What’s the deal? You were datin’ this asshole who couldn’t make you… climax,” he said, the word slow and deliberate, his eyes glinting with amusement. “How’d you, you know, relieve all that tension?”

“Joel,” you groaned, pulling a pillow over your face as heat rushed to your cheeks.

Joel laughed, the sound low and warm, rumbling through the quiet room. “C’mon now,” he said, nudging your side. “I’m curious.”

You sighed into the pillow, debating whether to say anything at all. But somehow, his easy grin and relaxed demeanor loosened something in you. “I… I had a toy,” you admitted finally, your voice muffled as you refused to look at him.

Joel froze for half a second before letting out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “No way,” he said, incredulous. “He must’ve been really shit if you had to go out and buy a toy.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, still hiding behind the pillow.

But Joel wasn’t done. He leaned back, running a hand through his hair, his grin widening into something downright smug. “Poor girl,” he said, his voice tinged with mock pity. “Deservin’ better than that.”

Your hand shot out to shove his shoulder, but your embarrassment only seemed to amuse him more. “So what,” you said, emboldened now, “you’re telling me every girl who’s been with you has… you know.”

Joel didn’t miss a beat. “Hell yeah, that’s what I’m sayin’.”

“Come on,” you said, raising an eyebrow at him. “Statistically, that cannot be true.”

He shrugged, completely unfazed. “Darlin’, you can’t fake that kinda pleasure.”

You made a face, skeptical and a little exasperated, but he didn’t stop. His voice lowered slightly, turning serious again, though the teasing edge still lingered. “I’m serious. It’s really not that hard. Every time I’m with a girl, she…” His grin returned, slow and deliberate. “…climaxes. More than once.”

You stared at him, caught somewhere between disbelief and begrudging admiration. “Wow,” you replied finally, your tone flat but your heart racing. “They must be doing something different in Texas.”

Joel chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief as he shifted closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Well, you know what they say…”

“Huh?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, the proximity suddenly making it hard to think.

“Everything’s bigger in Texas,” he said, his grin widening into something downright devilish.

Your jaw dropped, a laugh bursting out of you despite yourself as you shoved his shoulder again. “Oh my God,” you muttered, shaking your head. “You’re insufferable.”

Joel just leaned back, watching you with a satisfied smile, like he’d won something you hadn’t even realized was a game. But then his expression softened, the teasing edge melting away into something warmer, something far more sincere.

“But seriously,” he said, turning slightly to face you. His tone was low, thoughtful, the kind of voice that made you stop and listen. “You deserve the best. Someone who gets you, who takes care of you. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with wantin’ that.”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. They weren’t flirtatious or laced with mischief—just simple, raw honesty that hit deeper than you expected. You swallowed hard, your heart skipping a beat as you tried to find the right words.

“Thanks, Joel,” you said finally, your voice softer now. You managed a small smile, the sincerity in his words settling into your chest. “You too.”

A flicker of something passed through his expression—something almost vulnerable, though it was gone as quickly as it came. He gave you a faint smile, one that felt quieter, more intimate. “Goodnight, roomie,” he said, his voice soft, almost a murmur.

“Goodnight, Joel,” you replied, the words catching slightly in your throat.

You turned over, pulling the blanket higher, but you couldn’t shake the weight of the moment. Even as the room grew quiet and the only sound was the faint rustle of sheets, Joel’s words lingered in your mind, warm and steady, as if he’d etched them directly onto your heart.

Tag List

@melsunshine @brittmb115 @honey-dip-24 @ppascalrain @laliceee

@paulalikestuff @valkyreally @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @roguestargazer @somedayheaven @rh1nestonecowg1rl @itzraven101 @ickearmn @pascalbaby @demonsasss @stardew-sweetheart @aliastrinity @fitzwlliamdarcy @diedorleft @pastelpinkflowerlife @vie-is-punk @yazsos @insidethegardenwall @pasc4lfuzz @sweeteresita @tuquoquebrute @anadjarin @sarahhxx03

[joelslastofus]

[SUMMARY: Joel and you have broken up towards the end of your pregnancy until Sarah convinces you to come to Tommy’s annual Christmas party.]

A Christmas baby

“I’m not arguing with you like this god dammit, I ain’t trynna upset you”

Fluff jealousy childbirth angst

“Please come tonight, I really want to see you” Sarah spoke on the other end of the phone. You sighed brushing your hand over your nine month belly, the last thing you wanted to do was attend Tommy’s annual Christmas party.

You knew how much Sarah cared for you and how much she wanted you to be there but after having broken up with Joel just two months prior, it felt strange.

“My dad misses you” she spoke softly.

“I don’t know Sarah, there’s a lot-“

“Please just think about it, it’s Christmas. Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

How were you suppose to resist? Besides Tommy inviting most of the neighbors and having nosey eyes on you, it couldn’t be that bad…right?

Since breaking up with Joel, you had seen him twice. You remembered coming out of your OB appointment and Joel sitting at the bottom step outside waiting for you. You hadn’t expected to see him there, especially being that he never made it to any appointments, constantly over booking himself at work. You remembered the arguments the two of you would have, sometimes you felt he overbooked himself on purpose to not deal with anything that had to do with the baby.

Maybe he had cold feet you thought, whatever it was it didn’t go well mixed with your hormones, your sensitivity at an all time high.

When you moved in with your sister Abby, Joel constantly called her to make sure you were ok. Every night you’d hear your sister on the phone repeating the same things over and over.

“She’s ok”

“I swear I’ll call you if anything”

“No shes not lifting anything heavy, Joel”

Sometimes you couldn’t help but crack a smile, Joel was always invested in making sure you had everything you needed but what you wanted more was his time.

Pulling up in front Joel’s house you could see the guests from the front window. A part of you second guessing what you were doing there, almost tempted to turn back. Then there it was again, a slow pain that kept coming and going from your lower back. This must be what Braxton hicks contraction’s were as the doctor had explained a week piror.

“You made it!” You suddenly heard from outside your car. One of the neighbors, Tilly spotted you just as she was about to go inside with her older brother Jim. Jim was a good friend of Tommy’s, Joel never seemed to be a fan of his, you never knew why.

“Guess I can’t escape now” you whispered to yourself before opening your car door.

“Here, let me give you a hand” Jim gave you his arm as you stepped out the car.

“You look amazing” Jim uttered low as you grabbed onto him. Not expecting his compliment you smiled.

“Thanks”

“That red dress looks great on you” Tilly exclaimed.

“Joel’s gonna be so happy to see you” she chuckled.

Anxiously walking to the front door, you stopped at the steps to adjust your dress.

“Don’t worry Jim won’t let you fall” Tilly whispered, excitement in her voice for her favorite day of the year. Just as you began to walk up the steps the front door opened, to your surprise Joel stepped out. Caught off guard he stopped in his tracks at the sight of you, not expecting you to show up, much less holding onto Jim. You watched his eyes immediately turn to him, a stern look he couldn’t hide until Tilly’s high pitched voice distracted him.

“Joel! So good to see you!” He looked to her and gave her a nod, you could still see the disapproval he felt.

“Tommy’s makin’ drinks, ya got here just in time”

“Shit, you don’t have to tell me twice” Jim made his way up the stairs with you before you thanked him and held your hands together awkwardly. Taking a quick glance at Joel you noticed him looking at you but you didn’t say a word, neither did he, until you were alone.

“I’ve been callin’ you” he stood against the door, cheers and laughter could be heard in the background.

“Abby told me” you spoke softly. His tongue sliding against his inner cheek, there was so much more he wanted to say, you could see it.

“How have you been feelin’?

His question making you finally look up directly at him. He wore a red and black flannel shirt, the one he knew you loved.

“Um-it’s getting harder to walk in certain shoes now” you chuckled showing off that you wore flip flops with your dress. Joel smiled, something he hadn’t done much of since you left.

“Oh my gosh you came!” Sarah’s voice made you both turn her way.

“Hey Sarah,” you smiled.

“Oh my- that red dress is so cute on your baby bump” she grinned with excitement.

“Thank you” you smiled brushing your hand over your bump making Joel’s eyes soften as he looked at you.

“Oh uh- I’m sorry for interrupting dad. I just-“

“Don’t worry, honey. I’m glad to see you excited” he assured her.

“Well, if you guys don’t mind I really need to use the restroom. I’m going every ten minutes now” you laughed before quickly and awkwardly excusing yourself to the back.

Coming out of the bathroom you gave Sarah your sweater and purse as you looked around the room to all the guests there, you honestly didn’t know where to put yourself.

“Look at you, I’m glad you showed up!” Tommy approached you with a Santa hat and beer in hand.

“How are you feelin’?” Tommy asked as Joel appeared beside him.

“Well my ankles are killing me, my back feels on fire, she’s constantly kicking me“ you chuckled.

“but other than that I’m fine” you sighed.

“Aw she’s just excited to meet her uncle” Tommy laughed as he leaned towards your belly.

“Ain’t that right lil’ niece?”

“Tommy” Joel uttered giving him a side eye.

“What? Just a few more weeks till we meet, I’m excited” he took a sip from his beer before being pulled away to dance. Joel and you stood beside each other, his arms crossed as he laughed at his brother before looking over at you.

“How about we get you a seat,”

“Um, it’s fine, I’d rather stay here plus all the seats are taken”

“So, I’ll get somebody up” Joel looked back at the full room quickly eyeing who he’d get the seat from.

“No, no it’s fine” as much as your ankles hurt, you’d rather have stayed away from everyone asking you dozens of questions.

“You wanna lay down in our room for a bit?” His question catching you off guard.

Our room.

“Thanks, Joel. I’ll be fine. I’ll just take some water though, I am thirsty”

He nodded, his eyes remained on you longer than he meant to, drifting down to your dress laying perfectly over your baby bump.

“You look beautiful by the way”

Your heart skipping a beat from his words, you looked over at him.

“Thank you” you whispered before he walked into the kitchen.

Soon you noticed Mary and Lisa heading your way, two of the most nosiest neighbors you had dying to ask questions the moment you walked in. Those two women never seemed to know when to stop talking. Quickly turning towards the kitchen you walked off doing your best to avoid them when you heard a woman laughing in the kitchen. Silently stopping at the doorway you saw Maria with Joel, she was known for many things with men around the area, especially married men. Her hand on Joel’s shoulder as he held your glass of water in hand, you felt a jealousy you had never felt before.

“If it wasn’t for you driving me home that night, who knows where I would’ve ended up” she laughed as your heart sunk. It couldn’t be, Joel spent a night with Maria? Although you and Joel weren’t together, it was crushing to hear.

“Maybe you can drive me home tonight again…?” She spoke with a flirtatious voice as her hand creeped to back of his neck when you accidentally knocked something down beside you. Both of them quickly looking up, Joel realized you had heard everything but before he could say a word you quickly walked out rushing to grab your belongings from down the hall. Joel quickly put the glass down and pushed past Maria following you out as your heart raced with disbelief and hurt.

“Sarah where’s my stuff?” Your voice cracked as she looked up at you confused.

“In the room, are you okay?” You couldn’t respond rushing toward the bedroom as Joel quickly followed behind calling your name.

“It ain’t what you think-“ Joel appeared at the doorway slightly out of breath as you grabbed your sweater.

“Hey, hey-listen to me, baby” he rushed towards you trying to get you to understand him, desperation in his eyes, his hand attempted to grab your face.

“Don’t!” You screamed, tears building up in your eyes.

“The neighborhood whore huh?”

“No, dammit, listen to me!”

“No, you would-“ you suddenly stopped speaking as a sharp cramping like sensation took over you. Leaning forward you winced grabbing your belly, Joels expression instantly changing.

“What? What’s wrong?” He whispered, his hand reaching for your belly just as the wave of pain passed.

“Don’t” you shoved his hand away and took a deep breath. Getting yourself together you put your sweater on and grabbed your purse. Trying to walk past him he blocked your way, a look of concern he couldn’t hide if he tried.

“I’m not lettin’ you leave like this”

“Like hell you’re not!” You screamed, the music and the guests so loud nobody could hear you arguing.

“You can go continue your fun-“

“I’m not arguing with you like this god dammit, I ain’t trynna upset you”

“Too late for that” you aggressively put on your sweater.

“I didn’t do nothin’ with her! She was with Tommy, he passed out drunk in the car I was the only sober one so I drove. She got out the car went home and that was it, nothin’ happened between me and her”

“I don’t believe you” you shook your head as a tear fell from your eyes. You attempted to push past him but he wouldn’t budge.

“I ain’t lettin’ you drive like this-“

“What the hell do you care?! Go talk with Maria since obviously you have time for her but not our baby-“

“You know damn well that’s not true” he grabbed your wrists stopping you from pushing him aside.

“Let go of me!” You pulled your arms back just as another wave of pain took over. Quickly turning away you leaned against the wall.

“Ow-“ you cried out. The pain more intense than you had been feeling earlier.

Joel quickly coming behind you making sure you were okay, his hands on your waist.

“Come sit down”

“No, no…it’ll go away like it did earlier” you whispered in between breaths.

“What do you mean earlier?”

You stood silent as you slowly turned to him.

“What do you mean earlier?” He repeated himself sternly.

“It’s Braxton hicks, I had felt them last week and the doctor told me it was normal. I’m not dilated-“

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“There was nothing to tell!” You winced again from yet another wave of pain.

“I don’t think these are Braxton hicks, you’re getting them to close together, you’re having contractions“

“No I am not. Just leave me alone” you squeezed your eyes shut unable to speak.

“Stop being so damn stubborn, we’re gettin’ you to a hospital”

“No!” You whispered with a gasp just as Sarah ran in.

“Oh my god-“

“Sarah, tell uncle Tommy we’re goin’ to the hospital” he called out to her.

“Is she-“

“Yes” his voice somehow calm as he had you hold onto him.

“Oh my g- it’s getting worse” you whimpered.

“I know, honey. We’re gonna get in the truck now” he caressed your face.

“Is this actually happening right now” you whispered to yourself.

“I think so, baby”

Tommy ran to the truck with his Santa hat still on, opening the doors for you and Joel as the guests all watched on in shock.

“I don’t have my bag! My bag, Joel!”

“I’ll tell your sister to bring it” he buckled your seatbelt and closed the door rushing to the other side. Everyone watched as Joel sped off, each contraction becoming more intense you screamed in agony as Joel kept beeping the horn. If you weren’t so distracted with the pain you felt you would’ve seen how desperate Joel became with each sound you made.

“We’re here, baby. We’re here” the tires screeched as he made a hard turn into the lot.

Everything happened so fast, next thing you knew you were on the hospital bed being instructed to push. Joel holding your leg up, you cried feeling as if you couldn’t get through this.

“I can’t-“ you shook your head as Joel stood beside you, gently turning your head to face him.

“Look at me, yes you can. I’m right here and I ain’t goin’ no where, count with me” Joel began to instruct you with breathing and counting as the doctor prepped for the arrival of your baby.

After all the pain and chaos that occurred, it was all worth it. After the end of it all, you had fallen asleep and awoke to Joel humming Silent Night. Still feeling weak, you turned to see him looking out the window as it snowed. You smiled just as he turned and caught your eyes on him.

“I think she likes this song” he whispered making you laugh.

“You read the book” you spoke softly as he looked at you confused.

“The book I gave you about dads during birth”

He smiled with a nod.

“How else would I had known how to help you breathe through all that pushin’” turns out he listened much more than you thought he did.

“Mhm” your eyes began to uncontrollably close, you were exhausted.

“Get your rest, baby. I got her” without a word you quickly fell back to sleep as Joel looked down at his daughter with tearful eyes.

“The best Christmas gift I’ve ever been given” he kissed her forehead and continued humming the song..

Tags

@moonpascal @katmoonz @picketniffler @stcrrjoon @itsamandi @starry-eyes-love @theoraekenslover @psychoenergy @joeldjarin @bambisweethearts @baronessvonglitter @guelyury @mynameistokyo @harriedandharassed @locaparapedrito @untamedheart81 @rosaliedepp @illyanam1011 @hopefulatrocity @tikikiki @thewritermj @l0veang3l @manuymesut @katiemarieeee @unknownomgg @secretcheesecakenacho @missladym1981 @xmaykeca @dendulinka6 @wintersquirrel @malfoycassimalfoy @scorpio-echo @orcasoul @mysteryhexgirl @locaparapedrito @alloftheimagines @mystickittytaco

@ashleyfilm @justajoelsreader @ashleyfilm

[sunshinegirl29]

I didn't need this at this time of the month HOLY

Make It Stick

Pairing: Old!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel never thought he’d need a vasectomy. Then, one night, he accidentally finishes inside you.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected-peepaw-p-in-v (I’m sorry). Accidental creampie. Age gap. Cumplay. Breeding kink. Ovulation has led me places I wouldn’t go with a gun.

Note: Convergence is a painting by Jackson Pollock. We studied it in high school and I thought it looked like jizz idk

Word count: 4.7k

Prequel | Part 1 | Part 2

He should’ve gotten snipped when he had the chance.

Should’ve taken the plunge, faced his fears of needles and fluorescent-washed doctor’s offices like any man his age could have done and gotten the damn vasectomy. Now he was here, nearly two decades older and still none the wiser in this cold, dead world with a pretty young thing like you between his sheets. In lieu of elective surgery, Joel Miller had only to grit his teeth, bite hard, and repeat over and over again in his head, desperate:

‘Don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, DON’T—’

Words like those normally worked. With women that weren’t you, they tended to serve him exceedingly well.

But you were just so tight. And wet. And welcoming. And try as Joel might to pretend like he got laid on a regular basis, the truth was that he didn’t. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t seem to think straight when it came to this fixation he’d developed for you, so, instead, he let his dick do all the decision-making whenever he found himself around you. Ten times out of ten that ended in:

“J-J-Joel—oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—I’m gonna CUM.”

And that made it worth every last life-endangering drop.

Feeling how your flushed, lithe body came apart beneath his touch. How you needed him. How your eyes grew to half the size of your face and you gaped up at the man, lips parted, like you couldn’t even comprehend how the friction of seven inches could make you feel so good.

If he had it his way, he would’ve loved nothing more than to show you that feeling every night, and twice the next morning if his hip wasn’t giving him too much trouble.

But, at present, the man had bigger fish to fry. Like not becoming a new father at fifty-nine if he could help it.

With the last two fluttering pulses of your heat, and almost going cross-eyed from the pleasure as he felt it, Joel yanked his big, slippery cock out of your body and made a fist around his member as he always knew to do. Tugged and pulled and grunted above you—‘Sweet girl, you’re so fuckin’ good to me’—and watched your tits and your belly for the milky white ropes to ensue.

Strangely, though, your skin stayed the same.

No cum-spray Convergence appeared before him, no opaque and cloudy fluids dribbling down your ribs, nothing. Your stomach was as bare as the rest of you, save for a few beads of sweat, and that was all there was.

Joel shook his dick harder, confused. Beneath him, you were still coming down from your high smiling ear-to-ear and staring blissfully at the ceiling. Your chest rose and fell, rose and fell in quick succession, and while you endeavored to recollect your mind, Joel was losing his.

Where the FUCK was his cum?

In no naked horizontal tango to date had Joel simply…cum without noticing. Shit like that just didn’t happen to men, least of all to ones his age, so when he’d wrung his poor cock like a sodden towel and still saw nothing come out, he felt his stomach turn and plummet inside him.

He dropped to his hands and knees in less than a moment and lowered his head between your legs.

“No, Joel!” you squealed, giggling. Kicking your feet, “Another round and I’m gonna combust, you old perv!”

But Joel wasn’t looking to get his dick wet again. He was inspecting you. Or trying to, anyway. Quickly realizing he couldn’t see a thing in the darkness, he let out a breath through his nose and lifted you off the bed. Your naked frame thrown over his shoulder, bare hip beside his head and your strangled, muffled cry of, ‘What the hell, Joel?!’ hardly seemed to register with the man carrying you off.

You were toted to the bathroom. Joel was about to ease you down on your feet. Then, appearing to change his mind at the last second, he set you onto the sink instead. Your skin bristled with indignation, anger. A little arousal.

“Last time we did it on a sink we broke the faucet,” you reminded him, feigning more dismay than you really felt inside. If anything, you liked it when your fossil-age fuckbuddy switched things up. You were just exhausted.

Heedless of your words, Joel kneeled on the floor and pried your legs apart before him. When you swatted at his silver-flecked head, he brushed your hand away.

“Hold still,” he grunted.

“How come?”

“‘Cause I said.”

How quickly he commanded that tone of a father.

“Wanna sleep,” you groaned, about to roll your eyes.

But you couldn’t deny you liked being doted on by him.

Joel’s touch was gentle. Probing. Spidering down the most sensitive parts of your bare lower half, between your thighs, and slowly coaxing you closer to the edge of the sink. Your breath hitched when you saw his head tilt.

He appeared to be deep in thought—a rare sight for anyone who’d seen Joel Miller in the postcoital state. Most every time he’d blown his load before, the man was dead asleep within ten minutes. His joints could barely hold himself upright after a half hour of plowing the back forty, much less carry you, too, so you were puzzled now.

He thumbed at the seam of your cunt, and you whined:

“Jo-el—”

“Can ya…push, baby?” His eyes flitted up quickly.

“Push?”

“Yeah, just…” With a look you couldn’t quite read, he placed the palm of his other hand on your belly. Then, pressing, “Like this. Like you’re squeezin’ somethin’ out.”

You cocked a brow in muted confusion but did as he asked. You watched his gaze, and it stayed on you.

Or, rather, on that soft and pliant spot between your legs the old man seemed to favor so much. On any other occasion, in a position like this, he surely would’ve been wearing a smile. Tonight, his lips curled into a grimace.

And twisted even further when you ‘pushed’ like you did.

At first you felt nothing. A gentle clench of your walls supplied little more than a sense of having been stretched—no novel concept to you, who’d spent the last three-and-a-half months or so getting fucked by the finest AARP affiliate alive most every night. It wasn’t until you clamped down again that you got the feeling there was something else. Something thick and warm and slow as molasses trickling out from between your folds.

You let out a low, tender, ‘Mmph’ without meaning to; it felt kind of nice. Beneath you, Joel’s face turned grave.

He watched as his spend oozed out of your freshly-fucked hole and thought of vasectomies again.

You were young—too young to know better. Too sweet and naïve to see any peril in spreading your legs for a man like him, in a world like this. And Joel swore he’d be careful. But no post-apocalyptic birth control method was perfect, or even close to it, and it was clear he’d relied too heavily on reflexes to keep him from cumming inside you. Joel was old—too old to be doing this shit.

Too grown and well-versed in sex to be making mistakes as stupid as that. His brow pinched in, and he drew his next breath as if the air around him was growing scarce.

“Joel, what’s—”

“When’s the last time you— you— uh…bled?”

Hardly more in control of his face than the rate his heart went thudding in his chest, Joel winced at the end. This time, you were the one to knit your eyebrows together. You could tell by that tight, discomfited tone he wasn’t talking papercuts, but were still unsure of his purpose.

“Like two, two and a half weeks ago. Why?”

Well, fuck.

Joel buried his face in his hands. You scooted closer to the sink’s edge, thinking little of his cum leaking out.

“Why?” you tried again. Softer this time.

An old, weathered head lifted to greet you. It was bleak.

“You see this?” Joel paused. Swiping his finger through the viscous white substance that had trickled out on the counter, in a puddle now, “Y’know what it means, right?”

You let his look, and the question, remain suspended in air for a second. Then another. Then you shrugged.

“Yeah. But…you’re old,” came your answer at length.

You’re old.

Joel and you both knew as much, but the former wasn’t quite following your train of thought. Still wanting to try and mitigate damages while he could, though, Joel reached for the roll of toilet paper that was fastened to the wall and tore himself a strip. He bunched it up and, reaching for one of your knees to spread you further for him, took to daubing the tissue across your entrance.

“What’s me bein’ old got to do with anything?” A little sharp, then, seeing you flinch when he drew too close to your clit, “‘m sorry, baby, just— gotta get this out of you.”

You made a face but let him continue anyway. Your eyes followed each movement of his hand, and reflexively, the muscles in your thighs tightened. Why bother with this when the man has so many better uses for his hands?

For a second, your eyes fluttered half-shut.

“Maria says old folks are, uh…infertile. Got something to do with a middle pause,” you said, breaths labored.

Joel stopped just long enough to shoot you a look.

“Menopause,” he corrected, all too matter-of-fact, before returning to his work, “is a woman thing.”

What the hell were they teaching in Jackson’s sex ed classes, anyway? Then Joel remembered how his brother sincerely believed that women peed out of their vaginas until he was twenty-three, and the thought of you not knowing the ins and outs of male virility wasn’t the most far-fetched idea in the universe. Besides, sexual health wasn’t exactly the community’s highest priority when the world around it was in a perpetual state of decay and hordes of fungus-faced fuckers ran rampant in the wild.

He curved a tender, careful finger against the ring of muscles framing your sex, trying to absorb more cum, and your grip on the edge of the countertop tightened.

“S-So, you—” You swallowed, throat constricting a little too, “You’re sayin’…men can make babies…whenever?”

You sounded so innocent as you said it. Joel wanted nothing more than to club himself over the head for being the cause of this predicament—of being such an instrumental part of the perceived corruption, as it was.

Meanwhile, your head was swimming in filthier thoughts.

Deeper, Joel, keep…pushing in…dee-e-per. You would have scarcely had more luck giving a fuck what Joel was talking about now than if he’d just said the room was on fire. By his voice, you knew you should’ve been paying attention, but the dexterity of his fingers was too much. He was caressing the first couple inches of your inner walls, attempting to scrape what bits of his release he could get unstuck from the flesh, but it seemed he was succeeding mostly in just turning you on. Rendering you deaf to the drone of his words as you pictured him pushing something else inside your tight, throbbing—

“—whole lotta problems for us if you’re, uh…ovulating,” Joel finished, expression taut and oblivious. You hadn’t heard the first part of that sentence and didn’t care to.

“Ovulating,” you repeated slowly. Indifferent.

Joel carried on without a hitch.

“Kids just ain’t fit for this world. I know you know that.”

You nodded along, not hearing a word.

“And if you’re— if y’ever did consider, maybe…”

Your lungs took an extra sharp inhale when Joel’s fingers coaxed out a warm, sticky glob of his load, and he petted your folds with his thumb. Then let out a breath himself.

“…y’oughta start a family with someone your own age—”

That part snagged your attention. Too swiftly, it came:

“My own age?”

Sighing, in spite of those welts of pleasure so heightened by his touch that the space between your legs began to throb and ache. Hardly possessed of more sense to form words that weren’t just echoes of his own, you tried communication from a simpler source—your foot.

You nudged his shoulder, and Joel looked up.

“What?”

“What?”

Parroting was, evidently, a hard habit to kill. Your toes curled into the bare skin of Joel’s shoulder, and when he re-inserted his finger, you ground your heel even deeper.

“When’s that ev…ever stopped us from doing it before, hm?” you said, tone strained but laced with some humor too, “Thought you liked sayin’ you’d make me a mama.”

Joel’s face flooded pink at the recollection—as a matter of fact, there had been several such memories. Instead of answering immediately, he just averted his gaze again. He anchored one hand to your thigh, and with the other teased out another string of your shared arousal before wiping his finger on the tissue, clinically, and repeating. All he had to offer in reply after was: ‘That’s different.’

And it was, to some extent. Joel wasn’t blind to the sea of uneasy looks that trailed behind you both whenever you walked the streets of Jackson together. How wide the eyes would get when instead of observing some filial display of affection play out before them, as expected, you’d loop your arms around his waist and take his lip between your teeth as you kissed—‘Can we please go home now, baby?’—that Joel was certain he’d been cemented as the resident pervert among everyone in town. Just how much worse that reputation was liable to get if there ever happened to be a round and swollen belly between that embrace someday was unthinkable. Dirty talk was one thing; parenthood another entirely.

This is for the best, became the low, grating refrain in his skull. Why he dug so hard, pushed so far inside the wet, velvety interior of your body without a thought for his own desires in that moment; he had to cull every trace of himself out of there, before he had half a chance to think.

“Baby, hey, hey, no—” Joel cut in a second later, abrupt.

No, no, no. You weren’t thinking either. Wrapping your hand around his wrist, pushing his fingers deeper inside.

Smiling a little, too.

“What are you— no, honey, don’t— you can’t,” Joel’s words splintered in every direction, watching you plunge his own index and middle fingers into the slick and the warmth he’d just been trying to get his cum out of. He looked up and saw your lids were heavy, about to close.

“What are you doin’? This ain’t…no, baby, it ain’t…safe.”

Back to sounding like a dad in no time at all.

“What’s wrong with leaving it in a bit longer? Feels nice.”

You had no idea what you were talking about. Joel pulled back on his hand and, in less than a second, had it freed.

“I just told you,” he huffed, “You’re too young—”

“I’m plenty old, Joel,” you returned, eyes snapping open, “You’ve shown me that more times than I can count.”

Joel was silent, stunned. He rose to his feet as your eyes seared holes into his, and for a second, he was uncertain whether to take a step back or reach out for you again.

“Baby…”

To his surprise, something like hurt surfaced behind your eyes. You set your lips in a tighter line, and your grip on the counter grew firmer just the same. He would’ve taken that move as his cue to lean in gently, slot his body between your thighs, and venture an apology of some sort, when the next thing you did stopped him cold.

Without a word, you slipped your free hand between your legs—eyeing Joel closely, almost scornfully, as you did.

You took your middle and ring fingers and sank them into your cunt. Not intending to let a drop of his spend leak out, you wedged them in as far as they’d go. Joel watched. Gawked. Once sufficiently pleased with the look of shock taking over his handsome, aged features, you withdrew the fingers. You brought them up to your mouth, wrapped your lips around the tips, and sucked.

It was a rare thing to get a taste of you and Joel together like this, so you savored it. You moved your mouth further down to drink it all in, peering up with wide, indulgent eyes and a look that was meant to punish.

Feels nice.

Tastes alright, too.

You’d licked the last bit of this glaze off your hand when your stomach clenched. You knew it would happen. Full as you were, you feared your body still hungered for more. As such, it hardly came as a surprise when next your muscles tensed, and you shifted closer to Joel.

“Maybe I don’t want babies with someone my own age.”

Either one of your knees were nudging his hips. Drawing him in. Joel appeared to waver for a second, unsure, but the look on his face made it clear this was mostly a matter of a delayed reaction. He couldn’t get his legs to move because the rest of him was still in awe. Staring at your lips, where the residue of his spend was glistening, then to your eyes, which were no less inviting, then up to the crown of your head and over it, to fix his stare on the mirror behind it. You watched him watch his own reflection with a look that was both hard and unkind, breathing slow. When he didn’t stir from that position after a minute, you touched a hand to his lower stomach.

And, brushing the heel of your palm against what felt like a hundred grey hairs in the old man’s happy trail—your favorite ones—you smoothed a caress along his belly, back and forth, before moving it left. Your hand came to rest on a mound of muscle and fat sitting right above his hip. Love handles, Joel had remarked one morning with vague distaste. Love handles, you’d repeated, beaming. You held on tightly now, appreciatively, and used your well-loved wall of flesh to pull him closer. As with any beckoning of yours, Joel didn’t have so much as half a mind to resist. He did, however, refuse to meet your gaze while you tilted your hips and spread your legs wider, before winding your ankles around the backs of his legs.

“Don’t you think I’d look pretty?” You pouted up at him. Your folds made a light, warm suction rubbing along the front of Joel’s cock—of course he’d grown hard again, and you could hold him, point him down to that wet embrace awaiting him patiently at the edge of the sink.

Joel cursed under his breath.

“‘Course I do…” he said, voice hoarse, “Y’always look—”

“I mean…with your baby inside me, Joel. Right here.”

As if to put a finer point on your words, you nestled the head of his cock inside the first inch of your body. Joel had to seize the laminate underneath you and grit his teeth to keep from letting out a groan too loud. That tip may as well have been a first-rate conductor of heat, and your warmth the thing that might send him spilling again

“You don’t—” Joel choked out, nearly incensed, “—don’t know what the hell you’re sayin’, baby. What that means.”

In truth, there wasn’t a world Joel Miller could imagine where a girl like you could give more than a passing thought to getting knocked up by him—a man his age. What good would it do? You had your whole life laid out before you like a four-course dinner spread; there was no sense whatsoever in letting the meal go to waste on him.

He communicated as much by moving to pull out.

You met the effort with a push of your own, sinking down another inch or two on his shaft and smiling when you saw his eyes roll back in his head at the dizzying friction.

“I know more than enough, old man—” Grin stretching ear-to-ear as you dug your heels in his ass and tugged him deeper, “—who do you think taught me all this?”

Of course, it had been Joel.

Always, always him—the only one, in fact.

Your walls drew him in like a hug. For once, Joel conjured up the strength to take a look between your lower half and his, and when he did, the next moan was inevitable. It trickled through his lips. Your body looked sublime swallowing a third of his cock, and it was almost as though a maggot had crawled into his brain, chanting:

‘Make her full. Make her yours. Tell any man who’d even think of looking her way she belongs to someone else.’

He couldn’t.

Joel would never be so selfish. Just think of her youth.

But when his gaze drifted back to yours, every thought and any word besides seemed gently to melt away. Beneath him, your eyes were two pools of desire.

“You like this…don’t you, Joel?” Your voice was tiny.

“I do.”

In fact, he loved it.

“Then why can’t we?” Why shouldn’t we?

Minuscule now, the words that reached him barely exceeded a whisper. It was as though the moment itself had drained all fear from your face—and out of Joel, all common sense from his brain—leaving you both to stare at the other with shared, stupid, anoetic looks of bliss. The man who had you beat by thirty-odd years seemed nearly of the same mind, with almost identical ignorance.

Idiocy.

“Just once?” Joel croaked.

Somewhere underneath, unseen, you smiled.

“Just one?” you murmured back.

He sank in another inch. When your walls contracted around him, Joel’s hands found your hips by force of habit and pushed your back against the glass behind it. The mirror was cool, and inside you, Joel was throbbing.

“Once,” he repeated, not thinking too deeply.

“One,” you said, with a world of more purpose.

Joel relinquished the last three inches, and with it, all of his resolve. The handsome, scarred, and plainly greying features all twisted as one, and the expression that you knew too well to mean that the man was feeling good took on the slightest hint of guilt. He gripped you tighter.

“One?” Joel panted. Confused.

He pulled out halfway just to find his home again. Your pearly slick mixed together with his spend, and both coated over Joel’s shaft in a pretty, generous sheen.

“One more of you, I mean.” You sounded too sweet. There was no way in hell you’d actually meant it.

Joel’s cheeks flushed again, but he didn’t stop, either.

“Baby…” he trailed off instead. He pushed in, pulled out, felt your tender little hole make an ‘o’ around his shaft, and then he kissed the edge of your left cheek—maybe to rein in the need in his words before he spoke again: “One’a me takes and I’m givin’ ya fifteen more, y’hear?”

The smile he received told him as much as he needed to hear. He probably wouldn’t have believed it even if you’d said the words yourself. Joel’s thrusts sped up, and as the pleasure distended in the pit of his stomach with the friction and the feel, his words flowed a little more freely.

In disbelief, “Wanna be a mama that bad for me, huh?”

Your grin grew bigger. You nodded your head.

“Make your old man a daddy, is that it?”

Exactly. Senseless as it was, your look said it all.

To have slipped between the grooves and ridges of Joel’s brain and caught wind of even a fraction of the things he wanted to do to you then, a smarter girl would have run. Would have shoved him back out as swiftly as she’d let him in and told him no, that’s gross, and gone home. And, had the grey matter floating inside your own skull not been so completely dominated by primal need and wanting, that’s likely what you would have done, too. Instead, with a head full of lewd, youthful stupidity, you seized the black-grey curls dangling at the nape of his neck and drew him closer. You spread your legs wider.

“That is what you’ve wanted this whole time, right?”

Under his scruff, a muscle tensed as Joel bit down.

That’s all he’s ever wanted.

Let the neighbors talk.

Let them say what they wanted to say—it was probably all true to the point they were trying to make, anyway. That Joel was a pervert, of course. That you were naïve, also true. That you would look too good not to stare in a white cotton frock with a bump underneath, absolutely. These were the ideas permeating your brain and his while Joel took a firmer hold of your sides and brought his nose to rest against yours. With every stab of his hips, he pressed kisses to your soft, parted lips, speaking low:

“That what you want, too, darlin’?” More serious now.

The head of his cock nicked a sensitive ridge inside you, eliciting a whimper, but you nodded. You nodded again, feeling the brush of his stubble at your mouth and your chin, and nodded again when he bottomed out, stuffing you tight. It felt a little more momentous than any other time in the past, now that you were picturing a fullness that wasn’t just him. Him and you: a concrete being to soothe the sting of his absence long after Joel withdrew.

Something to stick.

“Please say it, baby.”

Someone to call yours.

“I want it,” you said, sounding desperate.

A coil was just starting to form in the place you felt him. Drifting up, pulling tight, making your eyes go glossy and wide while they stuck to Joel’s and begged him for more.

“Want what?” He sped up, and his thrusts got sloppy.

“Want you,” you breathed, “Inside me, Joel, please.”

As if predicting your next thoughts, the man lowered his hand to your belly. You hadn’t even noticed the smallest bulge had taken shape beneath the skin. Joel slowed, momentarily, then rubbed the base of his palm against the mound where your body was obliged to make room for his cock inside you. He drew soft, tender circles there and, with the motion, sent stars flying before your eyes.

“Good girl,” he murmured, “Right here?”

“Ri— right there. Right there.”

Joel adored that sound. The soft, elated look, the gentle knoll of flesh in a bump below his hand, the whimpers rolling off your tongue repeatedly, quicker and quicker the more the pleasure inside you continued to build. Joel’s release was coming soon, too. For the hundredth time that night, he silently wished he were a little younger; so he could fill you up once, twice, twenty more times until your insides were stuffed and painted white. As if reading his mind, as he had for you, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Hope our baby has your eyes,” you murmured to him.

It shouldn’t have had such a strong effect—but of course, it did. Joel pictured the small, sweet infant with irises that shone a bit like his, and his stomach caved in.

Tonight, tomorrow, or ten months down the line, he was getting you pregnant. He’d clear his whole schedule for it

“That right?” And now he couldn’t stop the smile as he spoke, leaning even further in, “What about their nose?”

He kissed the tip of yours.

“Hope they get this.”

He kissed either one of your cheeks.

“These too.”

You had to fight back a laugh while his scruff tickled skin. Two deep strokes away from the brink of release and he still somehow always stayed in tune with your needs.

The threat of your peak was perilously near. Joel’s spend and your slick, tender glaze made a chorus of sounds at each thrust, and the deeper he went, the bigger it swelled. Your smiles couldn’t stay for much longer when the feeling inside you both was being amplified like that. Sensing this, Joel took hold of your face and slipped his touch to cup your chin. He made you tilt your head up to him, as if to ask again, ‘Are you sure?’ and when you nodded, his lips twitched again. A fleeting hint of a grin, like he couldn’t be more eager to finish now if he tried.

Holding your face, cock swollen and throbbing and desperate between your walls, he felt a familiar twitch.

There it is.

[misaerabl]

Game On ; part 1

abby anderson smau

SUMMARY: After Jesse invites his team mate to game night and she wipes the floor with everyone in trivia, he adds her to the group chat. Abby fits right in, joining the banter like she’s always been part of the crew. Things take turn when she messages you about book recommendations. Was that really the reason, or was it just a way to talk to you? What starts as casual conversation soon feels a little different, leaving you wondering if there’s more to this than just a friendly chat.

WARNINGS: profanities, ignore time stamps, this is my first smau pls be nice

A/N: missing the abby anderson content so here...

[pedgito]

𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 | Joel Miller x reader x Tommy Miller

↝ series masterlist | masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | twisted into the miller brothers web, you find yourself deeply entangled in a complicated situation between the two and hell bent on self-preservation, you discover that running isn't always the best choice.

author's note | i was going to get this out before the end of the year if it was the last thing i did. i have never been so fully engulfed in a fic like this. it's just a little mini series, but i could talk about this shit for hours. thank you to everyone who's listened to my incoherent rambling and especially @gracieheartspedro who nailed down this ending when i was struggling so hard to decide. if you enjoy this silly story as much as me, ily.

content warning | 18+ smut, this is heavily joel miller x reader leaning, cannibalism, gore, mentions of violence, blood, death, joel's territorial <3, lots of unprotected sex going on 'round here, oral (f receiving), pain kink go hard, blood kink and consumption, biting kink, literal love as consumption, restraints, description of wounds from said bites, scarring, omitting a few tags for spoilers but please remember you are responsible for the work you consume, if you are ever feeling uncomfortable, do not continue reading. this is dark fic. that's the only warning i'm giving.

word count —13k, BITTER (part one)

“Killin’ is a viable option.”

Tommy groans, hand rubbing over his face as he leans against the kitchen counter, “They aren’t backwoods folk, Joel. You know that, we gotta be smart.”

“All they gotta do is get the law involved,” Joel points out, “fancy lawyers—“

“We’re selling to half that department,” Tommy argues, a long moment of silence before he adds, “and if you’d stop interrupting I’d tell you I already spoke to ‘em. Said I’d run it by you first before we set anything in stone.”

The big brother seal of approval.

You watch along curiously, stuck in the chair that Joel had a hand gripped around, sandwiched between them both as they volleyed arguments back and forth like they were fighting gladiators shoved in the colosseum—may the best man win.

“I still think we should just kill ‘em,” Joel chirps with finality, glancing briefly over your dumbstruck look, frozen somewhere between fear and shock, their voices fading in and out like muffled conversation, “make sure no one’ll come askin’ questions. Easy. You ain’t never had an issue with it before.”

The letter was still clutched in Tommy’s hand, a list of vague threats and accusations—the weird occurrences around the Miller property, the strange behavior of Tommy’s older brother, the smell. There wasn’t hard evidence, but they weren’t wrong either. A few minutes grazing the property and a look in the barn would confirm anyone’s suspicions—which, speaking of…

“Are you going to kill me now?”

 It was a brave thing to interject with, given Joel’s current hostility around the situation with their nosey neighbors and you, like a pest making a mess of his home. But, instead it was him. His mind—a foreign feeling that he didn’t like or intent to allow to wreak havoc much longer.

He’d kill you if he had to, if that was what it took.

Unsurprisingly, they both ignore you.

“Let me talk to ‘em tomorrow, Joel,” Tommy barters, “see if I can smooth things over.”

“Ya ain’t smoothin’ shit over, we know how this goes—you lose your temper and then we have a mess. Just take care of the fucking problem like I suggested.”

You knew the house, it was the only one within walking distance. Far off, covered by a line of trees and eclectic decor—you never thought much of it, under the impression that everyone in this town was as demented as the Miller brothers, most of the suspicions confirmed as the brothers continued to argue. 

It was an open secret—deranged and fucked-up, but there was full, completely loyalty.

If you had gone digging enough, you would have found out yourself. But, Joel wanted you to know. It takes a killer to know a killer—the wood of the chair cracks behind you as his grip tightens.

“We aren’t gonna hurt you,” Tommy comforts suddenly, a quick glance over of your injuries, “not intentionally, at least—”

“She fell,” Joel explains, a half-truth, “made a damn mess and wasted the scraps for the pigs—”

“Joel,” Tommy warns, returning his gaze to you, “You’ve been good to us, better than most. We can trust each other, alright? Ain’t no reason to think otherwise.”

He was sickeningly sweet, laying it on so thick you see right through the facade. He was upset, rightfully so, but you weren’t sure how much of it was directed at Joel and how much of it was directed at you.

“When did I surpass being a meal?” You turn your attention toward Tommy, flicking your eyes up briefly at Joel, “Was it before or after you fucked me?”

You expect it to be newfound information to Joel, but he doesn’t react in the slightest. He almost smirks, actually. A sudden, miniscule response that you wouldn’t have caught if you weren’t so on edge.

“Now, darlin’—”

“Cut the shit, Tommy,” You retort, “When did it happen?”

“Still a chance, if you’re feelin’ persistent,” Joel taunts.

Tommy shoots Joel a dangerous glare before his face softens.

“The thought never occurred to me,” Tommy replies though you find it hard to believe him, “M’not sayin’ we’ve been this kind to everyone, but with you—s’different. Right, Joel?”

“Well, she does like the taste,” He grins viciously, a showing of teeth that sends your body into a full chill, “ate it right up, loved it.”

Your eyes shoot daggers in his direction and he shrugs, his tongue shoved into his cheek as he moves to stand, turning in a circle on his heels as he leans against the nearest surface.

“I mean it, you’re safe with us,” Tommy assures, “out there—we can’t protect you. And if you think we’re the monsters, you’re in for a rude awakenin’, baby.”

“Don’t,” You chuffle, a short laugh through your nose, “I’ll—I’ll stay, but this,” You wave your finger between him and you, before it circles the group, a discoordinated trio, “I don’t trust either of you and don’t call me that. Don’t call me anything, actually.”

Your anger was justified and Tommy didn’t try to argue, only sinking back in his chair with an ‘I told you so’ look on Joel’s face. Luckily, they leave you to gather yourself, ignoring the subtle sting from the wounds on your legs and your spiraling thoughts—you could wait until nightfall.

That was it—wait long enough until it was dark and they were both asleep and make a run for the only sane people in the nearest vicinity. They could help you and help take the two brothers down in the process, it was a fair victory for the opposing party and your only saving grace.

–

They retire to their rooms eventually, the insistent chirp of crickets keeping you awake, standing on sore legs as you move around the dark room and pulling on a warm pair of clothes to trek against the nighttime winds. 

You were careful, prying open doors with a quiet effort and allowing the softest steps against the old floorboard as you reached the door, immediately met with the deadbolt lock and an even heftier lock to keep you trapped–or to Tommy, safe. The house was silent aside from the sounds of nature, the occasional howling wind blowing through but you looked around, searching for another path—you had already made it this far, you weren’t going to go scrambling back.

If anything, the backdoor would have the same locks and your eyes scan the windows, closed shut but not inescapable. If either of them decided to wake, they would surely know. 

There was no time to deliberate or weigh the consequences, hurrying toward the living room window that led toward the yard, pulling it up with forceful but cautious precision, ripping at the screen.

It isn’t an easy feat, not nearly the path you would have chose, but you fell to the ground with a deft slump, careful of your fresh bandages and gravel under your hands as you land, wincing as you stand but peering inside of the house cautiously, determining if you needed to make a run for it.

Silence meets you. Dead silence.

The eerie feeling in the distance creeps in, eyeing the house over your shoulder that is still lowly lit but quite the walk, you turn on your heels and make the long walk there, wondering if darting off down the road would be simpler, continuing until you came upon another sign of civilization or normality, anything to save you.

As you grow closer, the muffled melodic tunes coming from the house start to drown out your stream of thoughts, the bass booming from the driveway as you grow closer. You careful approach the steps to their door, pressing a finger into the doorbell as it chimes throughout the house—the music lowers in an instant, quiet enough that you could hear a pin drop, the door ripping open with a forceful gust of air, meet with the fierce scowl of an older gentleman.

It was hard to describe him, but there was so much going on—a peek at the inner house decor that screamed for a touch of neutralness, a mix of beaded necklaces hanging around his neck over a stretched out tank, barefoot as he approached you on the mat at his door.

It only dawns on you now that you hadn’t prepared anything—you were drawing a complete blank.

“You better start talking,” He speaks, a grittiness to his voice that stills you at your core, “botherin’ us in the middle of the night—”

“You’re right,” You blurt out, shaking your head slightly as you realize how abrasive it was, taking a breath before you speak slower, “about Joel and Tommy, you’re right. They’re bad people.”

His expression turns steely, jaw tightening as he straightens his back in an intimidating manner. You couldn’t mistake the whiff of alcohol on his breath, his drifting eyes down the length of your body, slowly realizing that this might have been a mistake.

Self-preservation had always come first, even if you didn’t think the Miller’s were the worst possible people you could have come across, they were unfortunate targets in the moment. 

“They—they are killing,” You point vaguely in the direction of the house, “it’s—the smell, it’s the bodies. They’re murders, you have to help me,” It comes out in a panic and you stutter as the confession rolls off your tongue, his expression only growing dark as time passes.

Fuck, he didn’t believe you. Of course—who would? 

Hey, you’ve got a couple cannibals for neighbors—let’s deal with them.

It was never that easy.

“You don’t think I know?” He responds, stepping into your space to send you stumbling backwards, but his arms lock around your biceps and keep you upright, but not for the reason he should, feeling the sting of pain as he squeezes down hard.

You gasp at the suddenness of it, “N—no, no! You have to believe me!”

“I’ve seen you helpin’ them,” He nods vaguely, “Think I’m gonna believe this shit? Where are they, huh?” The spit from his vicious reaction and volume sprays against your face as he shoves you to the ground, your arms skidding against the cement as you scramble backwards, trying to flee his quickly approaching figure, “They use you as bait?”

He’s over you before you have a chance to roll out of the way, your forearm presses up against his neck as he leers, glancing around for any sign of the brothers—silently praying that he was right in the moment, but you knew there was no one to help. Just you. Just him.

He forces you onto your stomach as your face was smashed into the rock path along the driveway, “Well, good—they can watch,” It makes your blood run cold, sensing the exact implication of his words as you calmly and slyly wrap your fingers around a palm sized rock, curling it in your fist as he leans back on his legs, twisting in his grip and bashing the rock blindly at his face, a grunt releasing from him as you make contact with his skull, falling to the ground with a dead weight as you scramble away breathless.

You stare at the sight, a man near death on his lawn before the whistle fades in—low and melodic as it approaches with the sound of heavy boots and speaking before you can react.

“Well, look at that,” Joel looks on in admiration, a small suspicion of amusement in his tone as he steps onto the lawn and peers over you, hand extended out blindly for help as he cautiously steps around the pooling blood of the now dead man, “little messier than I like, but you got the job done.”

If looks could kill—you’re seething, staring up at Joel with narrowed eyes as you take his hand and stand.

“I’ll give you some credit,” Joel continues, “You’re resourceful but predictable—suppose you can’t trust anyone in this town anymore, can you?”

He’s cocky about it, which pisses you off more. Undoubtedly, he was probably watching you the entire time, waiting in the shadows, undetectable. He’s mastered his craft, he killed people for a living. It wasn’t a mystery how he knew or expected your retaliation. But, his reaction is jarring.

“C’mon, up,” He yanks at your hand and helps you upright, instinctually brushing the clumps of grass and dirt out of your hair with a pinched expression as your eyes slowly drag toward the motion, unmoving out of…not fear. It was something indescribable, flinching at the heat of his hands as his eyes gradually rose toward the upstairs window.

“You know what happens next, right?” Joel asks, kicking at the dead body to roll him on his back, staring down at the lifeless corpse.

You didn’t need the whole speech—murder me now, please. Spare me the misery.

“Alright, alright,” Joel sighs, almost like he’s carrying on a conversation with himself—and with your silence, he was. But, he senses your fear, “well—you can’t just murder one and not the other, you little killer. You’re gonna take care of the other one, too.”

“Joel—I—” The adrenaline rush was waning, the bile in your stomach swimming and swirling.

His face hardens in an instant, forcing his hand over your mouth with a stern shake of his head as your eyes grow wide, “Ain’t time for excuses.  You made this mess—you’re gonna finish it.”

You blink slowly, searching for any sign of a bluff. It never comes, in fact, his grip only grows tighter until you answer, shakily nodding your head.

“Go on,” He urges, “I’m right behind you.”

He’d have a front row seat this time instead of waiting in the wings. 

Joel wanted a full taste.

–

The wife is tucked into bed when you finally find her, barricaded in her sheets and sleeping soundly despite the loud, blaring music when you first approach the house—you figured it was a regular occurrence, but you don’t linger on the thought long. 

You hold onto the thought of the husband and his unwillingness to hear you out, how they seemed to already have you figured out, wrapped up in the Miller’s web and just another willing accomplice, repeating the same careful steps from earlier that had clearly failed you as Joel breathed over your shoulder.

It needed to be quick—not entirely painless, but clean.

The vase to the left of her head seemed like an emergency option, the woman splayed out on her back as you searched around, knowing that you didn’t have long with Joel’s looming presence. You chew at your bottom lip as you reach carefully for the pillow beside her head and slowly press it over her face, a few seconds of calm before you find yourself in a predicament.

Climbing over her lap, you mount and press the weight of your palms into the pillow, face scrunched in concentration as the woman flails and shakes against the movement, grunting meekly as your hand slips against the scratch of her nails, glaring at Joel for a silent plea of help, realizing that she was putting up far more of a fight then either of you expected.

He waits until the last possible second, an unreadable expression on his face before he’s flipping the switchblade out of his pocket and piercing it through her clavicle, the blood squirting on your chest and face, rearing back instinctually as you gasp, her body falling lifeless in an instant.

“I can appreciate the effort,” Joel comments, wiping the blade off on the sleeve of your shirt before he pockets it again, “how’d that feel?”

You don’t realize your heart is racing until he asks the question—it was a similar feeling to a drug-induced high, slightly floaty and off-balance, your mind hazy as you blink, the stench of iron filling your senses and that strange look on Joel’s face returns.

You understand it then—lust, another subtle hint as he licks at his bottom lip out of reflex.

Joel would lick you clean if you let him.

You clear your throat and speak quietly, “What—what do we do?”

“Well, we gotta transfer ‘em to the house,” Joel explains, “So, you’ll stay here and wait—not run, that clear?”

You nod mindlessly, towering over your second dead body of the night.

You were far too deep now.

You don’t move—not really. You sink to the sheets beside the woman’s body but you listen dutifully, ears perking up at the roar of an approaching truck and door slamming followed by footsteps before Joel reappears again, seemingly breathing out a sigh of subtle relief as he spots you.

He’d never admit it, but you can see it.

It take a while, but eventually you carry both bodies into the bed of the truck and cover them with tarp, questioning Joel on what happens with the house, the evidence, everything that could essentially criminalize both of you—

“That’s above my paygrade, honey,” You’re not amiss to the change in his voice, his expression more relaxed as he shifts the truck into gear, “the sheriff handles all that for us.”

“And…the sheriff…he—”

Joel chuckles, “It’s everyone. Not just a group of us. We aren’t just sellin’ to townsfolk, either. It’s overseas, across the country. Shit is high risk, high reward. Why do you think I followed you tonight?”

So, he did follow you—he’d known the entire time.

“I saw the idea pop into your head earlier while Tommy and I were arguin’. Like I said, predictable. I’m not sayin’ you didn’t have a fair reaction, I get it. But, we can keep you safe.”

You cross your arms over your chest silently, skin and face caked with blood.

“But will you?” You retort, “Can I really trust you both?”

As the truck pulls in near the barn, the ignition falls silent.

“I want to,” Joel admits, “natural ability like that shouldn’t be wasted.”

A natural-born killer, he means.

“You feelin’ guilty right now?” Joel asks, eyebrows raised.

You shake your head quietly, avoiding his gaze.

“Good, keep it that way.”

Joel works silently to unload the bodies and load them in the barn as you sit quietly in the passenger seat, staring at the barn door as he drags tarp covered corpses inside with a brute strength unlike his brother, somehow spotless throughout the entire ordeal.

“I’ll move the truck in the morning,” Joel tells you as he pulls your door open, a hand waiting in assistance as you climb out on unsteady feet, the ache of your wounds coming back in waves as reality sets in.

“It is morning,” You retort, earning a huff of annoyance from Joel.

“You know what the fuck I meant,” He responds, his thumb flicking at a flake of dried blood on your collarbone as you stand in front of him, “Tommy’ll get pissy if you wash the blood off in the main bathroom—I’ll let you use mine.”

Your face contorts in a mix of confusion and amusement.

“Or I can hose you down out here, your choice.”

–

The house is as quiet as you left it, guided silently with the touch of Joel’s hand between your shoulder blades as you traversed the dark house—and you aren’t sure what you were expecting as you enter Joel’s bedroom, but it wasn’t this.

It was lived-in, personal; full of books and random trinkets, pictures lining the top of his dresser and walls—his family, you can only assume. A few pictures of kids that you surmise are Joel and Tommy, you avoid Joel’s gaze as you look around aimlessly, clearing your throat as you approach the bathroom, hearing the light flick on beside your head.

It was clean, at least. A dark colored shower curtain hiding the tub away from view and his bathroom amenities only slightly astray, probably from previous use that night. 

You turn to him with a quizzical expression, his expression matching.

“What? Somethin’ wrong?” He asks.

“It’s just—it’s…clean. It doesn’t—it doesn’t fit you, I guess.”

“I’m just a dirty old man to you, ain’t I?”

It’s a joke, but his delivery falls flat.

“I’m confused, I guess.” You tell him honestly, “Look at me—” A vague gesture at your own disheveled state, dirt and blood smeared on your face as he tilts his head against the doorframe.

“I am,” The deep timber to his voice strikes you at your core, a casual but unsuspecting answer, “I cleaned up for the night, wasn’t plannin’ on getting dirty again.”

“But, you’re always dirty.”

His job required that—but Joel was meticulous about his routine after he was done for the day. Dinner, a thorough shower, sometimes another if he was feeling particularly bothered, and the quiet of the calm house to lull him to sleep.

Unfortunately, that routine has been disrupted since you arrived. 

Like an infestation, you’d taken over.

Joel ignores you with a half-assed shrug and flicks a dried speck of blood from your nose.

“Go on,” He demands, “I’ll grab you some clothes and fresh bandages.”

You clear your throat awkwardly and nod as you gently swat his hand away, avoiding his gaze as you press the door closed enough that it doesn’t lock, but allows you the privacy to undress.

It feels good to clean the blood and grime away, scrubbing at your body until it burns, bathing in the distinct smell of Joel’s body wash, a faint hint of it always wafting off of him despite his usually dirtied state.

You can hear him moving quietly beyond the curtain, his shadow passing a few times as you’re expecting him to fold against the urge to peek his head beyond the curtain—something, anything.

You hated the forced gentlemanly facade. 

Once you’re out of the shower and dressed in clothes Joel had picked out, a matching set and a fresh pair of underwear that had you glancing sideways at him as his fingers peeked around the bathroom door with a bottle of rubbing alcohol and fresh bandages in his hands.

He kneels quietly with a concentrated expression, mirroring his actions from before. Wincing through the sting of pain as he cleans and dresses your wounds, catching his glances as the noises slip beyond your lips—an inconspicuous check-in, wordless.

You can’t help but fuck with him now, defenses down.

His eyes follow the way your hand smooths over the waistband of your shorts, your thumb slipping beyond the thick band as you lean against the mirror, watching as he taped down the gauze, “Kinda defeats the purpose, don’t it?”

“What’re ya gettin’ at?”

“The whole—bet you can’t guess what color underwear I’m wearing joke,” You play quietly with the waistband, fingers twirling in the drawstrings below your navel as your thighs spread against his guidance, his hand sliding down to your ankle to raise your leg higher in an effort to secure the bandage, “I see you wanted them to match,” You jest at him lightly, noticing the way his eyes immediately lock onto the apex of your thighs.

He brushes it off, a roll of his eyes as he finishes up his job, carefully piling up the trash on the floor as you slowly slide off the bathroom counter, leaving his head level with your waist. 

Had you asked yourself if you wanted to be this close to him twelve hours ago, the answer would have been different, but the downright pathetic look on his face as his eyes drag up your body and eventually land on your face are a powerful spell.

Slowly, your hands drift into his hair—surprisingly soft as the curls sway with your movement, gripping the hair tight and pushing his head back in the process, a low rumble in his throat at the action.

“Do you like that?” You inquire, his eyes darkening at the question as he sets his sight on something he wants—a primal gaze, almost like a warning.

“You tryin’ to make my brother jealous?” He asks, “Think I should tell him about your plan to rat us out—how it didn’t work and now you’re tryin’ this—”

“I can’t leave now,” You admit, still not fully settled with the idea but deep down you knew, “I—I do feel safe, you know. With you—”

You exhale shakily as his lips press against the sliver of skin beneath your shirt, just below your navel as his eyes fall shut, his tongue following the path as he presses surprisingly gentle kisses into the skin before his fingers are curling over the band of your shorts.

“Don’t trust me, though—do you?” Joel asks snarkily, eyes peeking open slightly as your lips part in a soft gasp as he pulls the clothing down your hips, peeling the underwear down with it.

One hand drags up your calf, calloused hands against soft skin as he pulls one knee over his shoulder and shoves your shirt upwards, giving him an obscured view of your cunt, lips spreading open with the movement and glistening with slick despite how much you tried to loathe him—there was a racing in your heart that differed from Tommy, like you know you shouldn’t be doing this but your body was demanding otherwise.

You shake your head lazily as it drops back, slumping against the medicine cabinet as he drags a finger through your folds, toying with your clit in small movements, silent as he drinks in every small sound you make, your opposite hand digging into the counter of the sink as his fingers dig into your thigh, opening your eyes as he presses his lips to your cunt, right against the mound and into the short, coarse patch of hair before he’s spreading his tongue out flat against you and licking a slow, tortuous line up the seam.

“Trust–trust is earned,” You reply breathily, “It, fuck—it takes time.”

Joel hums a response of approval as his nose nudges against your clit, tongue dipping inside of your hole as he stared up at you, even at this angle you could see the smug smirk on his face as he drank you in—Joel was still a frightful man, enough unknown that you found yourself wondering if the choices you were making were correct, if somehow this would cost you your life in the end.

But, then he’s pulling away, dragging his finger up the seam of your pussy as he stands, unbuckling his belt quietly as you strip your shirt away, not needing to be told or guided, his tanned skin flushed a subtle red as he unbuttons and parts his flannel, adjusting his jeans and underwear down just far enough under his balls that they sit snug against the fabric, his cock intimidatingly large against his even larger hands.

So much with Joel is unspoken, his intensity held in his gaze. Even from your first meeting, there was a look—and even now, he’s got that look. Like he’s trying to decipher you.

He flattens one hand against the bathroom counter as you spread your legs to accommodate him, his other hand grabbing at your ass to pull you near the edge before he’s running his hand down his shaft, the foreskin swallowing up the red, angered tip of his cock before he’s pulling back and rubbing his cock through your folds, gathering the wetness there and pressing inside with a pinched expression on your face, your breath catching as your hand twists into his shirt.

“That hurt?” He asks, his voice taking on a softer tone.

You nod fervently, “Yeah—yeah, it’s—you’re…pretty big,”

You weren’t trying to actively compare the brothers, but the thought passes in your mind and Joel notices the thoughtful look on your face, huffing out a laugh under his breath.

“Good,” That it hurts—he wanted you to feel it tomorrow, that it would be a constant reminder.

He’s a natural masochist, but he wasn’t about not enjoying sex. So, while he savors the soft hiss of pain at first, the dig of your nails into his chest, eventually you relax and turn to curling yourself around him, legs tight around his hips and your arms slung over his shoulders as he presses his forehead into your own and fucks you with a slow, powerful force of thrusts that make the walls shake—surely it would wake his brother, maybe that was what he wanted.

His mouth parted slightly, panting out hot against your skin as he glares at you—into you, through you, your eyes fluttering open and shut as he follows your trailing gaze, the precipice of your pleasure clawing over the edge of their metaphorical walls.

“Yeah, s’right there—isn’t it?” He taunts, a half smirk on his face as he watches you.

Always watching you.

You nod again, feeling the hand that was squeezing at your thigh digging into your skin as he used it for leverage, thrusting into you while he guided your hips toward him, using your body like he had full control over it. His other hand finds your breasts, squeezing the flesh in his hand before he’s rubbing his thumb over the quickly hardening bud, a shiver running down your spine.

There was nowhere to hide with Joel, all imperfections on display as your head lulls back against the mirror, eyes opening to find him matching your expression—somewhat sated but nearing the edge of his own release, he nudges his chin up and speaks, “S’this what gets you off?”

Your brow furrows as you tilt your head, his hand trading your breast for the hand twisted into his shirt, guiding it toward your clit as he gives you a silent order, your fingers circling the sensitive nub.

“Fuckin’ both of us—s’gonna be a hell of an issue when he finds out, you know.”

“Is this what you like—huh, talking about while you fuck?” You counter, “Your brother?”

His jaw shakes slightly as he gaze dips, admiring the way your cunt swallowed him up, his fingers wrapped around the wrist that was working at your clit, toes curling as your knees squeezed into his hips, that heat building in your core.

“I can talk about how he eats pussy better than you,” It’s teasing, an effort to get a rise out of him, “or do you—you wanna hear how he whimpers when he fucks me because he’s so pathetic? Is th—is that what you want?” His hips stuttered with your words, “He’s so much sweeter, you know? S’all soft and kind—”

Nothing like Joel.

His hand seems to loosen at the mention, but you shake your head.

“Oh, don’t ease up now, honey—I never said I liked it.”

Joel opens his mouth to speak, but you didn’t want to hear it, shoving your opposite hand over his mouth as you both spill over the edge, the ache of loss finding you as he pulls out, thick ropes of come panting your stomach as you clench around the emptiness, his teeth digging into the palm of your hand as he groans with his release.

“I’ll handle Tommy,” Joel promises as you both dress, cleaning yourself up as he buttons his shirt, “It’ll be easier coming from me.”

“You don’t have to lie, he should know—”

“I’m not,” He responds quickly, looking up at you through his downturned gaze, “like you said—trust is earned. You’ll earn it.”

How was a mystery—but what other choice did you have?

-

You learn very quickly that Joel was intentional in you earning his trust—not so much Tommy. He wasn’t surprised by your attempt to escape, but the marring of their neighbors—yours too, now—he was slightly disappointed. Hoping that he could spare you the gruesome side of things, that keeping you within the house and under his watch would help save your innocence about the entire ordeal.

But, he quickly finds out that isn’t the case.

And you find out how steady their diet of human meat was, a fridge stocked full of various cuts and textures, unsuspecting to the eye but you knew—and truthfully, the sickness dissipates after a month of eating that way. Tommy will occasionally skip a day or two, sometimes even a week.

Whereas Joel, he’s fully accepted his ways.

“How does it work?” You ask curiously, night has crept in and left both you and Joel, who you’ve gradually drifted toward lately, aware of Tommy’s lingering touches and fighting that feeling of betrayal on both ends—Tommy never seemed to mind you favoring Joel, even indirectly. However, Joel was territorial, overwhelmingly so. You wished you disliked it, but that was the furthest thing from the truth.

“How’s what work?” He asks, legs spread wide on the couch as take a seat beside him, legs curled under your body and the fire crackling beside you, his hair wet from a recent shower and his shirt sticking to his skin, “Tommy’s job?”

You nod quietly, chewing on a piece of dried meat, akin to jerky. 

You’ve willingly succumbed to the lifestyle over the past few weeks, partly to blame on Joel, but mostly out of your own morbid curiosity, finding that it wasn’t all that bad as the nauseous and general sickness fell dormant. 

“I don’t fuckin’ know,” Joel answers bluntly, but honest, “He’s got some kinda system going, I do my job—cuttin’ things up, mindin’ my business. I just know it makes us damn good money.”

You wouldn’t be able to tell outside of their house, but they kept things well within the interior—they owned nice things, you assumed they were out of debt and had money saved back, but they lived beneath their means as much as possible. 

Joel liked a quiet life, you could tell. 

“I could help out more, you know.”

Outside of your general duties and decent pay—it felt lacking, like you could be doing more.

Neither of the brothers kept you chained or trapped, that much was obvious. And you didn’t feel the lingering threat of something to come, the need to run—the feeling of security was something you had searched out for a while and oddly, they provided that. 

In some sick, fucked up way, you felt protected. 

“Stock is runnin’ low,” Joel debates, his thumb circling the beer bottle between his legs, while his other trails along his bottom lip in thought, “I got an idea, dunno if Tommy’s gonna like it.”

“Who cares what he thinks?” You reply, “He cowers like a puppy when it comes to you.”

It was essentially a lure and catch situation—Joel never strayed too far, always on the outskirts while you found the next willing victim, it was always you approaching them, never the opposite. You were in full control and under very specific orders. 

Never people in town, always the stragglers. The more meek and unsuspecting the better, but it varied—after a couple months, Joel doesn’t even bother to stick around, sitting in his truck while you finish up the job.

And you’ve learned over time just how different Tommy and Joel are—Tommy prefers seclusion in the extremist of ways, more subdued with his affection when Joel was around and didn’t argue with him in your presence, almost like he was attempting to shield you.

Joel is out late in the barn when Tommy crowds you in the kitchen, a curious and longing stare out the window at the closed barn door, his tell-tale throat clearing as his hands wrap around your waist, his chest pressing against your back as you sip gingerly at the glass of water in your hands.

“M’glad you feel safe here,” Tommy murmurs into your skin, a soft peppering of kisses along your spine as he moves the material of your shirt out of the way, his fingers slipping beyond the thick waistband of your pants, shoving them down wordlessly, “ready for bed?”

“Not yet,” You admit, letting the silence linger before you speak again, “Can I ask you something—and I’m just curious, I swear.”

Tommy makes a noise of approval. 

“What happened to my car?” A laugh bubbles up at the thought and Tommy laughs too.

“I mighta sold it for scraps when you agreed to stayin’ with us long term. I was meaning to tell you, but you never asked…so I figured…”

Who cares, right? Truly, it was a piece of shit anyways.

You laugh softly at his advances as they grow more needy, your arm curling behind you to flex your fingers in his outgrown hair, “I want you to fuck me here,” You admit, his eyes peeking open as he leans over your shoulder to look at you, a salacious smile on your face as you lean back, rubbing your ass against his cock, growing hard underneath the confines of his sweats, before you turn to face him, “like this—right here.”

Fortunately, it takes very little convincing. He’s impatient in his movements, only getting both of your pants down before he’s pushing the head of his cock inside of you, a welcomed but comfortable stretch before his cock is fully seated inside of you, walls squeezing down tight as he buries his face into your clothed chest, your hands cradling his head as he rocks into you at a gentle pace.

“God, I’m never gonna get tired’f this,” Tommy groans weakly, a hand gripping tight at your hip as he quickens his thrusts, one hand falling back on the counter to support the forceful angle of his movements, laughing breathlessly at his comment, his head rises to look at you with complete and full admiration, “I’m serious, baby.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” You assure him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips that quickly divulges into an open-mouthed exploration as you trade sounds, feeling Tommy teeter closer to the edge of his own orgasm as his fingers drift against your clit, always assuring that you were taken care of first—it doesn’t take long, hands gripping the curtain above the sink as your whine loudly against his ministrations. 

Tommy is too distracted to hear the quiet creak of the door, but you’re not. The lights are off, only granting you a silhouette of Joel, but you know—he’s smirking to himself, closing the door behind him quietly as he freezes for a moment, seemingly locking eyes with your sated expression, your orgasm hitting you just as he passes down the hall, his face coming into view for a brief moment.

It was pathetic, how quickly your mind drifted to him even while his brother was buried inside of you, your grip on the curtain tightens, pulling the rod from the wall and sending it clanging down against the sink as it startles you back to reality, feeling Tommy’s hips stutter before he’s pulling out and you sink to the ground instinctively, lips wrapping around his cock as he releases the warmth of his cum against your tongue, a heady but tolerable taste that slides down your throat with ease. 

Joel is already gone by the time you rise to your feet, redressing quietly as Tommy examines the broken curtain with a subdued chuckle, tossing the few pieces of sheetrock in the trash.

“Sorry,” You wince, looking at him apologetically.

Tommy grins, his thumb rubbing down the center of your chin in a comforting way as he shrugs, waving it off, “Easy fix.”

The difference between the two is simple to spot after a while—Joel’s leniency with things comes to a head as Tommy’s rigidness battles for dominance. He doesn’t make it a habit to put his foot down often, but he was already increasingly hesitant as you started luring people back to the farm—while thankful, it was dangerous. You were good at it, without fail, but something was bound to implode.

–

“She’s earned it, you know,” Joel fights for you, the usual recluse encourages a night-out—a real one, no work, just pure enjoyment, “Ain’t much trouble to get into there.”

The bar, he means. With how often you frequented it now, it was like a second home.

You were coming up on your sixth month mark of living with the Millers, finding the stragglers came in like a cycle, every few weeks, and the town was due for more.

Tommy squints cautiously, turning in the desk chair as the heel of his boot scuffs against the flooring, “An hour—only an hour, don’t need you stickin’ out like a sore thumb.”

Joel, he means. He rolls his eyes in response, dressed more casual than you’ve ever seen him. It was a simple pair of jeans and a dark-colored shirt, but it made him seem normal.

It was unsettling.

“Don’t worry,” Joel smirks, “No one’ll touch her.”

Except him, you think.

Tommy wasn’t oblivious to your odd affection toward Joel, but he wasn’t privy to every detail. He didn’t know how often you snuck into Joel’s bed at night, sometimes after being on his own before that, the devouring looks and purposeful touches that always happened behind his back.

Joel knows you find comfort in Tommy, but there was something missing.

Something lacking.

Tommy eventually relents and you arrive at the bar a half hour later, Joel in tow.

And it is mostly uneventful, drinking amongst the other patrons with the loud rumble of music drowning out far away voices—Joel was stoic, like a bodyguard over your shoulder as he seemed to people watch, like he often did.

“You’re doing it again,” You tell him, peering up at him from your seat as he glances down, his glass pressing to his lips, ignoring the wide-eyed stares from the occasional townsperson, seemingly shocked to see him. 

“No I’m not,” He argues, tapping his finger against your lips before he’s guiding the glass to your lips, a wordless order to silence yourself, “Drink, enjoy it—or all that beggin’ was for nothin’.”

Eventually, Joel lets you wander.

Even if it was to dance lazily a few feet away, practically begging him to join you with your hand outstretched, a constant scowl on his face as he refused. But, eventually someone takes that offer for him, obstructing his view with a grin—an older gentleman with wiry hair and rotted teeth.

There’s a few moments of uncomfortable movement before you’re making an excuse to flee toward Joel who snickers at your discomfort, a hand wrapping at your waist to pull you between his legs as the man, persistent as you suspected, approaches beside you.

“Tommy finally let his dog out of the house?” He asks over you, staring Joel down.

Joel chuckles at that, subdued as his hand tightens against your waist, hiding your own giggle behind a sip of beer.

“C’mon, sweetheart—I’ll show you a better time than this guy. Wouldn’t know how to care for a nice piece of ass like that—him or his damn brother.”

Joel stands then, without warning as he towers over the man and you as he forces you into the seat, “Get the fuck out of here,” It was the only warning he was offering, but it strikes fear through the man without fail, sending him scurrying off for the moment.

“Tommy’s gonna kill you when he finds out about that,” You comment as Joel approaches at your back, maneuvering you out of the seat to settle between his legs again, his large palm settling against your stomach as he pulls you against him, spotting the man again from across the room, staring you both down with hardened eyes.

“What he doesn't know won’t hurt him,” Joel argues, the surprising press of his lips against your neck as you jump at the touch, calmed by his reassuring words, “Gonna scare him off, alright?”

“How—” You’re cut off on a gasp as his hand travels up your shirt, squeezing at your breast as his teeth dig into your skin, mouth hung open as you stumble back against him, eyes fluttering closed at the stinging pinch of Joel’s teeth, hard enough that you fear it breaking through the skin

Surely, it does. 

As Joel raises his head and catches sight of the man’s widened eyes, he scurries off. He’s not amiss to your reaction to the bite, fingers clawing into his skin, moaning at the action. Really, he should’ve expected it.

“Turn around,” He orders, spinning you on your feet before you can react on your own, catching sight of your dilated pupils as you stare at him wondrously, a smile growing on your face as his impatience grows.

He ignores your wandering hands that crawl up his arms, gripping onto his large biceps before he’s hauling you out of the bar without a word, arm twisted behind your back as you tumble on your feet toward his truck parked in the far back of the parking lot, far away from the roar of music.

“Did I do something—oh,” You squeak, jumping back at the creak of the drivers’ side door as he sandwiches you between the seat and him, “wrong—Joel, did I—”

You’re stuttering but he isn’t answering and you begin to crawl to your side of the seat before he’s stopping you in your tracks, feet pressing against the step bar of the truck while the upper half of your body curls against the seat—and Joel, with his large and threatening presence, towers.

He works at the belt in your jeans, turning your head over your shoulder as he rips the leather from the loops of your pants, “Put your hands on the steering wheel,” He orders and you follow suit, watching as he quietly tightened the belt around your hands and through the steering wheel, rendering you immobile from the waist up.

“Wait—right here? But, there’s people—”

Never stopped you before,” He comments and your face heats at the mention, having never brought up the instance with you and Tommy until now, “I’m not a fan of waiting and I’m not against takin’ you in front of my brother—rather not, but…”

“You like having me to yourself,” You finish for him, a hum of acknowledgement following. 

Joel yanks at your jeans until they fall to your ankles, pulling them off alongside your shoes and underwear as he tosses them over your head and into the passenger seat, sinking to his knees without a word as he parts your legs, licking into your with warning as you gasp, your hands yanking against the leather belt.

He squeezes your ass in his hands, spreading you open as he dips his tongue inside of you, forcing you up on your toes as you curse into the seat of his truck, forehead pressing into the fabric as your hands are stretched over your head. 

He’s got an idea…a lingering suspicion as he trails his lips along the inside of your legs, never quite kissing or lingering, just a slow drag before he’s digging his teeth into your skin, a sharp pain that makes your pussy clench, his eyes locked on the action as he bites down. 

Instinctively, you yank against the binds, the urgency growing as he bites down more, picking various places along your legs until he decides to bite into the fleshy cheek of your ass, purposefully breaking the skin—the tiniest drop of blood pooling at the surface before he licks it away. 

He repeats the process, trading between bites and licking at your cunt until your orgasm catches you by surprise, panting against the seat as you catch your breath with his satisfied presence looming behind. 

Quietly, he rustles with his belt and slides into you without a word until he’s got his hand tucked up under your chin, wrapped around your throat as he presses you against the seat with his chest, turning your head to the side to catch your already fucked-out expression, more turned on from the biting than the fact that his dick was finally inside of you.

“I fuckin’ knew it,” Joel remarks, watching the smile spread across your face, “You like it when I bite you? The pain?”

You shake your head with a soft hum, “S’nice, but I like you marking your territory.” You watch his face morph into something indecipherable as you laugh, “Got you really riled up in there, didn’t it?”

“Gotta let them know to lead you back to me if you go runnin’ off again,” Joel taunts, grunting against the shell of your ear as your walls squeeze down when the head of his cock nudges at a particular spot inside of you that steals your breath away, “Yeah—that? That right there?”

You nod weakly, wishing you could touch him—claw at his skin, grab on and take hold, but you were left helpless. Though, somehow it was more comforting this way. Joel was increasingly careful of the authority you tried to hold over him, never allowing you to have the upper hand—and you didn’t mind it.

Again, it was the stark difference between he and Tommy, who’d be willing to bend to your will if you asked, eager to please you, but with Joel, it was kismet. He always knew what you were thinking before you even spoke about it.

And as the ache in your wrist grows into full discomfort he releases them without a word of acknowledgement, lips parted with bated breath as you turn until your back is pressing into the seat, legs wrapping around his waist as he hoists you up with his brute strength, releasing a loud moan of expressive pleasure as you surge forward, pressing your lips against his before he can object, licking into his mouth with profound eagerness as his nails dig into the skin at your hips, his balls tightening with an impending release as he returns the wet, sloppy exchange of lips.

It stalls him for a moment, the sensual pace of your lips pulling his focus up, your tongue twirling around his own before they trail to his lips, your lips dragging down his chin, along his jaw, before you’re biting against where his jugular would be hiding under his skin, not nearly hard enough to cause any damage but enough to have his eyes rolling back and his hips stuttering.

“Don’t—don’t pull out,” You tell him through a murmur, running your tongue along the mark in a soothing gesture, catching his gaze as he looks at you, “What? Are you scared, Joel?”

Not scared—Joel wasn’t sure he could emulate that emotion anymore, but it was far too personal for his liking, even with the few partners he’s had in his life he’s never crested beyond that, purposeful in his abhorrence distaste of kids or the possibility of, but you have him completely under your spell and he shakes his head.

“S’just you—wouldn’t want it to be anyone but you.” You assure him, his expression softening as your thumb trails along his bottom lip, eyes locked on his own as his thrusts stuttering through his own orgasm, face pinching at his brow, your breathy moans guiding him through as he pumps your pussy full, feel the warmth seep down as he eventually pulls out, his cum sliding down the inside of your thighs.

“Get in the car,” Joel instructs as he tries to catch his breath.

His silence on the ride home is deafening.

–

Joel is more stoic and pensive over the following weeks—spring is always harder on the business, or so he says, and selling overseas picks up quicker, it wasn’t something they could explain but it was a constant trend; high demand, high reward. It was quite stressful, really.

So stressful that eventually things are beginning to run thin and you become the source of stress relief for both of them—in different ways, but nonetheless.

Tommy would rather cuddle up with you on the couch while you lull him to sleep with your magic fingers, dragging through his hair—it was gentle caresses and quiet conversation that he found comfort in, but Joel was always unpredictable.

Sometimes it was just sharing a meal—his weird obsession with feeding you; providing, in a way? You couldn’t make sense of it, but it never made you feel uncomfortable.

“Have you ever gotten a bad batch?”

“We’re careful,” Joel reminds you, “It’s why we test all of ‘em before we go through the process.”

“Is that why you sent me?”

“Do you want an honest answer?”

You stare at him blankly, waiting.

“Yeah—we had to make sure you’re clean.”

“But now?” You push, your tongue pressing against the underside of the fork as he brings it to your lips.

“I trust you,” Joel admits, “You’ve kept up your end of the deal.”

It was conversations like this that led to Joel’s affinity toward you, a drunken night several weeks later leading you both outside after Tommy had already fallen asleep, walking backwards as your fists curled into Joel’s shirt as his hand cupped your head, licking into your mouth as he unintentionally led you toward the barn door, both of you separating as your back hit the creaking wood.

You pull apart, peering curiously over your shoulder and attempting to look through the cracks, awaiting Joel’s reprimand that never comes. 

“You wanna see inside?” He asks curiously.

“You’re fucking with me—”

“It’s a yes or no, darlin’.”

“Yes—yesyes, I do.” You spit out quickly, curiosity getting the best of you as he fishes his keys out of his pocket and snakes it into the lock, unlocking and prying the door open, met with full and complete darkness as he leads you inside, his chest close at your back.

He reaches blindly for the lights out of memory and you’re engulfed in the blaring lights of a spotless room—almost like a medical office with the array of equipment lining the walls and the long embedded tables, something reminiscent of what you would see at a mortuary for draining bodies and embalming, probably to help with the mess.

You sniff slightly, curious about the lack of smell as the door closes.

“That’s partly the animals, but we dispose of some of the shit the pigs can’t eat out behind the barn.”

“Like what?” You stare at him incredulously, eyes wide.

“Clothes, shoes—s’why we have the barrels burning every couple weeks when the stench gets too bad.” He spots your itch to explore, that glistening curiosity in your eyes as you relax at his answer, “Go on, look ‘round.”

You’re not ignorant to the absence of bodies—it was confusing to see a place so clean come from a man who always left work looking like he had brought half of it home with him.

There’s an array of knives and confusing cutting devices that you trail your fingers along, a bonesaw lying against the table lining the shelves, a stack of papers with faces and names, various info that you took a glancing look at, attempting to avoid the idea of putting names to faces and treating the people as anything other than product—it was how Joel lived, as disconnected and separate from the ideas possible.

“Usually it’s messier in here,” Joel admits, your lips parting in a surprised gasp as he presses his lips to your neck, “—we can fix that, though.”

“Joel Miller,” You respond in a scandalized tone, “what exactly are you implying?”

“I’ve got a room upstairs,” Your eyes flick up, spotting the loft overhead—that would explain the long nights when you wouldn’t see him at all, his comfort with being more openly affectionate outside of sex has grown slowly, turning your head to face his over your shoulder as his gaze trails up in another silent question, “unless you’ve got another idea—m’just dyin’ to get inside of you, honey.”

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip in faux thought, already knowing your answer as you were brimming with excitement, resisting the urge to drag him after you.

“Yeah?” You tease, his lips pressing against your soft, kissing you soundly.

“Yeah,” He responds against your mouth, a rare moment of calm, a sweet exchange before he’s chasing after you with a swift slap to your ass.

–

It was essentially an extension of his bedroom, cozy and homey, you find yourself stretching out on the rug rather than the couch, watching as he carefully kneeled to the floor, cursing his achy knees as you giggle, spreading your legs open to invite him in.

“The things you do for me,” You joke, slowly unbutton his flannel as he yanks you towards him, knees falling against his hips as his palms grip either side of your, his thumbs rubbing against the soft skin underneath your shirt, “careful—I might think you love me.”

“If that’s what you want,” Joel replies easily, stripping your shirt over your head as your breasts bounce free, removing your jeans with the same impatience before he’s immediately latching his lips onto your breasts and lazily trading off, biting teasingly into the skin as he looks up to gauge your reaction.

If Tommy notices Joel’s evidence that he leaves, he never says anything. Perhaps it was unspoken, maybe they’ve talked it out—it was information you weren’t privy to, but you didn’t question it. He could smell his brother all over you and he was dying to rid you of it, baring his teeth as he bit into the flesh of your breast, a satisfied hum coming from you in response.

“Do you want that?” Joel asks again, “To be loved—ain’t somethin’ you’ve felt much, is it?”

Quietly, you shake your head.

“Well, you’ve got my brother by the balls,” He chuckles knowingly, “I’m sure he’d marry you if you asked—I ain’t good with words, but I can show you—”

Curious, you watch as he stands, grabbing a sharpened knife off the end table before he’s returning to you, “Somethin’ my parents passed down to me—never used, just like lookin’ at it.”

“We’re not about to Romeo and Juliet ourselves, are we?” You joke lightly, half-serious.

Joel grins wide at that, a full belly laugh following as he slices his palm with a squint of pain before he’s allowing the blood to pool in his hand as beckons you forward with a finger. You rise on your palms and stare curiously before he’s directing his hand to your mouth, lips parting wordlessly as the deep crimson hits your tongue, eyes falling shut as you sucked at the wound.

You were so accustomed to the rich, irony taste that it isn’t even a surprise, moaning as the blood slides down your throat and his fingers curl, squeezing more blood out for you to consume before he’s sliding his hand over your mouth and down your chin, stopping against your chest as he smears it with blood, one-handed as he shrugs his flannel off and rips his shirt over his head, tearing the fabric apart in strips like butter, not a sign of struggle.

He ties the fabric around his wound before he’s wordlessly handing you the knife.

“My hand?” You ask curiously.

“S’up to you,” He admits—the wordless blood trade vowing his affection toward you.

It was something far deeper than love, you think. Devotion. Loyalty. 

“Wherever?” Your eyebrow raises as Joel seems to clock the moment the idea comes into your head, trailing the blade along the inside of your thigh, up your stomach, along your breasts.

Eventually the tip of the blade finds a spot against your inner thigh, Joel’s hand careful adjusting your placing as he speaks, “Careful, there’s an artery there,” Further down, you brave the initial sting and slice through the skin, watching as the blood rose to the surface and Joel quickly descends, knife clattering to the floor as he sucks the flesh between his lips, his tongue lapping against your skin.

It’s euphoric, the feeling. So intense you could descend into madness as Joel eagerly lapped up the blood, even as he pulled away going back for a second time, a third, rising with blood stained lips and the crimson liquid pooling on his tongue as he pulls you toward him, mixing the taste of his blood with your own as he kisses you, a messy exchange of fluids as you claw at his skin, rising to your knees to match him.

Silently, you work at his jeans, unbuttoning and pulling them down his lips alongside his underwear—Joel works them the rest of the way before you’re pulling the hand supporting him over you out from under him, straddling him into the rug as your cunt sat directly over his cock, feeling him grow harder underneath you, a sight to behold with blood dripping down the corner of his mouth.

“I want more,” You tell him honestly, his cock twitching at the words, reaching for the knife laying beside his head, “Can I have more?”

Joel nods wordlessly, slightly breathless.

It was a trading battle of surface wounds, just enough to spill blood but nothing deep enough to cause any damage—surely looking insane as you straddled him with a smile, blood-stained lips yearning for more. Joel has a drunken haze to his expression, committing the sight to memory as he squeezes at your hips, rutting his cock between your soaked folds.

“Enough,” He says softly, barely above a mumble as he tosses the knife aside, rolling you underneath him before he’s sliding home inside of you, a hand cradling the back of your head while the other gripped at your knee, pulling it high over his hip, near his chest as he thrusts into you, a controlled but needy pace that was followed by low, pitiful groans of pleasure.

You’d broken this man.

His head was buried in your neck, your hand trailing down his back as you squeeze into the flesh of his ass, the fingers off your opposite hand carding through his hair, pulling gently at his curls.

“Got so much of me inside you now,” He breathes into your skin, “fuck—I’d eat your right up, baby.”

Despite his obvious lifestyle, your laugh is careless and light.

“Greedy,” You note, “I’ve already given you a taste and you’re asking for more?”

He doesn’t respond, not really. His hips are sharp, forceful as his cock spears itself inside of you, rubbing against the sensitive spot inside of you, eyes fluttering shut as it overwhelms you.

“Take a bite,” You encourage him, “f’that’s what you want.”

A real one.

Enough to scar, to leave a permanent mark and reminder of him.

One, two—you didn’t care.

His teeth drag over your breasts, tongue trailing around your hardened nipple before he’s biting into the skin at the top of you breasts, a gasp ripping from your throat as your walls flutter around him, tightening at the pain that slowly transfers to pleasure, glancing down at the small gash and trail of teeth marks in your skin. 

He’s admiring, finger running over the wound before he’s rising on his knees, continuing the thrusts of his hips but slowing as he reaches for your hand, pulling you upright again.

“You–do you want me to?” You ask cautiously, feeling the blood from your wound trail down your chest, “Are you sure?”

“Ain’t never been sure ‘bout nothin’,” Joel admits, “but—this…yeah, I want it.”

It shouldn’t make you hesitate, but it doesn’t. He isn’t emotional or forceful—it was like a plea, disguised behind his facade of stoicness. He needed this devotion just as bad as you. He needed someone to put his own trust into.

When your teeth dig into his side, he hisses, his right hand cradling your head as the other curls tightly into a fist, your face pinching up as you bite beyond the first layer of flesh and taste the liquid against your tongue.

He pulls you away eventually, looking down at you with a newfound expression.

This was love—not the lust you were used to seeing.

The rest of the evening is quiet, his pace gentler before he brings you to a slow orgasm, coming inside of you nearly seconds after with a soft moan, persistent that the wounds needed to be cleaned immediately after a few moments of rest.

He tapes it away with a gentle care after cleaning and applying an ointment to fight away any possible infection, snorting at how fatherly it all seemed, even helping you situation your top back on.

“At least we spared the rug,” You break the silence, “guess you aren’t as messy as I thought.”

“Oh, I can be,” He assures you, noticing the scabbed up bit of your lip that had become victim when he’d bit into your, biting down to silence yourself. Just a small movement and the wound reopens, completely unintentional but he sucks the blood away from your bottom lip in a soothing gesture before he kisses you soundly.

You only hoped the bliss would last.

–

Eventually, the implosion comes. But, instead of gradual—it was all at once.

Tommy’s birthday was supposed to be a quiet affair, something at home, between the three of you, not having time to celebrate during the week on his actual birthday like you had planned—but eventually Tommy finds himself antsy and Joel senses your annoyance as he keeps finding excuses to slip away or cancel. He encourages Tommy to go off on his own, leaving you both sprawled out on his bed after a rousing round of sex that leaves you both sweaty and breathless, resting your arm against his chest as you stare at him, “What’s up with him lately?”

“He’s good at acting, isn’t he?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“There’s a reason he keeps to the books, you know—why I do my job alone.”

Your eyebrow raises in a silent effort to urge him to continue.

“When I’m angry, you’ll know—” That much was obvious, having been on the receiving end plenty, but Tommy—it was unnatural to see anything but his kind, bright smile.

“He’s my brother—but there’s plenty of shit you haven’t seen yet. And I think it’s unfair that he’s actin’ like things are normal, like he can keep that act up, but something’s gotta give—”

“So what, is he like…a psychopath or something?”

Joel’s silence is telling, jumping up from your spot as you settle on your knees.

“He’s a fucking psychopath?”

“No—no,” Joel excuses, your face contorting into a mix of confusion and amusement.

“You took a long time to answer that.”

“He has episodes—periods of time where he ain’t himself. I can’t explain it and my parents refused to take him to the doctor—you know, backwoods folk and all. If we had a problem we toughed it out.”

“So, he’s got anger issues?”

Joel shakes his head, lips pursed into a tight line.

“He’s killed a couple people—by accident.  Least, that’s what he calls it. Tried killing me a few times, too. I’ve always been good at talking him off that ledge, thankfully. M’not trying to turn you against him but I’ve grown up around him, I know how to handle it.”

It was a lot of information to consume at once, still naked in Joel’s sheets as you adjust to sit more comfortably, a small peek at the scar near his ribcage as the sheets shift down.

“He’s lucky we do what we do—he’d probably be in jail otherwise, I’m just telling you because—“

“If it came down to me and him, you’d choose him.”

Joel pauses, his face softened as his lips downturn.

“It’s okay,” You shrug, “Let’s just hope it never comes to that.”

Truthfully, Joel wasn’t sure anymore.

After years with Tommy, he’d grown tired. It was exhausting, fighting between the battling personalities that lived within his brother.

“C’mere,” He beckons, your nose scrunching up as you grin, fitting your face between his waiting hands as he pulls you back over him, kissing you slowly.

A gentle calm before the storm.

–

The arguing is what wakes you first, not the roar of the truck, voices trailing toward the barn.

The bed is empty too, not a single remnant of Joel in sight.

But, you hear him. Loud, angry.

By the time you’re outside the barn is already closed, illuminated by the light inside as you pry the heavy door open, several underdressed with only a shirt to cover the underwear clinging tight to your skin, bare feet digging into the dirt as your feet scuff against the cement and the door falls shut behind you.

“She doesn’t need to know, Joel!” Tommy’s voice cracks, a slight slur to his speech.

He’s drunk, clearly.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Tommy—one night and you pull this shit? It’s exactly why dad had a tight leash on your ass for so many years—”

“Need to know what?” You ask suddenly, breaking through the tension as your head peeks around the corner, both of their heads whipping toward you, Joel moving subtly to block the body that you spot on the table, eyes widening. 

It had always been something you and Joel had managed together—Tommy had never shown an interest, didn’t seem to care, but this…

“I’m just tryin’ to carry my weight ‘round here—is that why you like him more?” Tommy asks suddenly, his eyes glazed over and dark as you step forward.

“I invite you into our home—give you a place to stay. I—I stuck up for you when he wanted to throw you out and you chose him? My own fuckin’ brother?”

“He’s drunk,” Joel states blankly, almost dismissive of his rant.

“No—no, let’s show it off, Joel.”

Tommy comes at you with a knife, slicing it down the middle of your shirt as you struggle against him, ripping the fabric away and showing off the healing scar on your chest.

“What happened to no attachments, Joel? No baggage?”

As Joel moves toward Tommy to remove the knife, he lunges at Joel and pushes him out of the way, leaving you with a clear view of the woman laying on the table, an eerie resemblance to yourself as your eyes widen, stepping toward the table as you glance over the body—unmoving, still. She was already too far gone, with no signs of what Tommy had actually done to her.

Your head snaps up at the brawling brothers, screaming for the attention to break through their rage, Joel burying his knee into Tommy’s back to subdue him.

“Why her?” You ask him—Tommy, looking directly at him as you point to the lifeless body.

“Get the fuck off me—” He argues through gritted teeth, attempting to shake his brother off him.

“Why—her?” You stress again, walking forward to crouch in front of him, uncaring of how your body was bared to him in your vulnerability.

“Thought I could give Joel his own version of you to play with—but she wasn’t cooperating. That what you wanna hear? I had you first—motherfucker won’t let me have a single thing to myself.”

“Let him up,” You instruct Joel, backing away slightly.

As Tommy stands, you approach him, his face tight and unrecognizable. 

He reeked of alcohol and sweat, a stench of something else that made the bile in your stomach rise, “I never chose, you both had me. You would continue to have me, but this—Tommy—”

“Don’t fuckin’ lecture me, not you,” He bites.

You stare at him with a growing sadness, “You’re drunk—really, really drunk. You’re gonna sleep this off and you’ll regret everything you’re saying right now, I know it. I know you.”

Something seems to snap in Tommy—attempting to rip away from Joel as you scramble toward the floor.

Tommy gets a solid right hook in, something that, if any normal person would have delivered would have left Joel unphased, but Tommy had his advantages, similar in size and stature to Joel, it was barely a fight as Joel dropped to the ground, hitting hard enough that both of you freeze, a slow ring of blood pooling from his head as your chest clinches in a mix of anger and resentment, but your body flinging into flight mode, fleeing while Tommy has distracted by the possibility that he killed his own brother.

Unfamiliar with the place you scramble to hide, unsure if running off would help after your last try, squeezing into a closet buried in the back corner behind a pile of yard tools and mowers, watching as Tommy dropped to the ground.

You could hear him mumbling to himself—a mix of self-assuring words and back and forth conversation, as if someone was responding to every word he offered.

“He’s dead—yeah I killed him,” He mumbles, “if I—if I chop him up, chop her up. Fuck,” His head whips over his shoulder, realizing you were gone, “gotta find her—but Joel, deal with him first.”

Your eyes widen at the firsthand witnessing of exactly what Joel had admitted to you—like some kind of bad omen of what was to come, you sunk down into the darkness and hide yourself away, watching as Tommy roamed around for tools, not a moment of hesitation as he intended to follow through on his plans with Joel’s lifeless body awaiting it’s demise.

It feels wrong, tossing a bone saw aside carelessly as he ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation, flailing tools around wildly, a knife clattering so far away that it lands near your feet, small enough to wrap your fist around as you grab it quietly, awaiting Tommy’s approach to Joel.

Sometimes takes over, not entirely yourself as you crawl from the spot you were hidden in and lunge at Tommy, planting the knife between his shoulder blades as pressed the blade against his own brother’s neck, his blood curdling scream ripping through the barn as he dropped to his knees.

“You bitch,” He groans, shouting out in pain as you remove the knife and sink into his spine, a few seconds of struggle before he slumps to the ground, his eyes dragging toward your shaking frame, bloodied hands rubbing your hair away from your face as you stare down at Tommy’s face, his lips parting as he gasped for air but instead find blood dripping from his mouth.

You drop to your knees, the air stolen from your own lungs but for different reasons.

Both of them dead, within a matter of minutes and it was all your fault.

“Fuck, fuck–” You cry, slamming your fist into cement, but quickly startled by the rousing beside Tommy, almost blaming it on a break in your psyche before Joel is mumbling your name, pressing his fingers into his temple as blood coats his fingers, a sizeable gash on the side of his head as he sits, slowly picking apart the sight before him.

“Oh, honey—what did you do?” Joel asks, glancing down at Tommy’s lifeless body and up at you—surprisingly, there wasn’t an ounce of anger.

“He thought—he thought you were dead, he had a knife at your throat,” You rambled in a panic, “He kept saying he was going to chop you up—chop me up. I don’t know, I fucking panicked.”

Joel remains wordless, staring into the deep abyss of blood pooling on the floor.

“I’m so—I’m sorry. I’m,” The emotion is like a tidal wave, “Joel—I panicked. I swear—”

Joel grimaces against the sharp sting of pain as he reaches for your face, his blood covered hand pressing against your face, fingertips wrapping around the back of your head as he forces you to lock eyes with him.

“Look at me,” He demands, waiting until your eyes lock on him, “This is the part where you promise—and I mean promise, that you won’t fuckin’ run off.”

“No—never. Never, not,” You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut to blink away the thick tears, “Never again, Joel. I promise.”

“We handle this together,” He explains, “I’ll protect you but you have to say it.”

“Anything,” You nod, leaning forward on your hands to move closer to him.

“Say you’re loyal to me—that you’ll listen and do whatever I ask, without question.”

“I am—I am. Joel, I’m loyal to you. I love—I love you. I need you to know that.”

Joel sighs, head bowing.

“I would have chosen you over him. I couldn’t admit that to myself earlier, but I’m telling you now. Tommy’s always been a manipulator, I tried warnin’ you. Months ago.”

You ain’t the first, you won’t be the last.

“I won’t run. I promise, Joel.” You assure him, because with Joel you felt that protection.

A silence falls before you speak again.

“What happens now?”

“You follow my lead, that’s all I need.”

[shaunasflannel]

I miss you Jeekies

someone give this man his molotov (source)

[penvisions]

black hole sun {series teaser}

Pairing: Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x Waitress! Reader ; Jackson! Joel Miller x Survivor! Reader

Summary: You carry memories of Joel Miller in your heart in the wake of the end of the world, someone who had once been a bright spot in the dull monotony of life.

When you unexpectedly cross paths with him again, he’s no longer the young man you used to share moments with but an unforgiving dark spot that had been corrupted by the new world order.

He’s gone in the blink of an eye once again, showing up months later to settle in Jackson as he’s turned into some convoluted mixture of each. Maybe time and circumstance will allow for you finally tell each other how you feel?

Word Count: undetermined

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, canon typical gore, past lives, dual pov (both reader and joel), outbreak day events, passage of time, heartbreak, angst, missed oppurtunities, miscommunication, second chances, sexual content, adult content, piv, unprotected piv, smut, moodboard photos do not depict reader completely just conceptually, it more tags to come as the story develops!

A/N: a little teaser that was promised a few days ago (a week ago? two weeks ago??) oh well, here it is!! i'm excited to start filling out scenes for this one c:

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation

The sunlight streams in through the bay of windows that sit over the deep green booths. The velvet backings of them are soft though the color has yet to fade with age. It’s the afternoon, your favorite time of the day, thankful for the lull in customers and the chance to catch your breath between the lunch and dinner crowds. The mornings are nonstop coffee refills, eggs cooked every which way, toast piled up high and far too many condiments for each dish offered from hollandaise to ketchup to steak sauce.

And besides, breakfast only seldom brings in the trio you most look forward to seeing in your section. It’s the later hours of the day that they tend to visit, the youngest right after school on the days she’s not set to hang out with her neighbors. Though she’s admitted to you both alone and in the presence of her father that she prefers spending her time with you in the diner than over at the Adler’s house riddled with crosses and portraits of Jesus.

You don’t blame the young girl, she doesn’t need to be sheltered and treated like a child as enters her first teenage year. She deserves the choice of where to go after school and if it’s where you can keep an eye on her, then so be it. She’s spunky, quick witted and unabashed in her comments. Though she makes sure that it’s a safe space to act as such before she does so.

The first two weeks she had begun to spend time in the diner, a completely random choice by her uncle while he picked up something from the hardware store further down the block, she had been shy. Though you also chocked that up to her being a fresh thirteen and unused to the foreign setting. It was on the cusp of downtown, but still settled on the outskirts of a neighborhood as it shares the parking lot with a hardware store, a seasonal snow cone stand, and a plant nursery.

Ever since that first day she walked in with her wide, sparkling eyes she had flocked to you. You had been worried why she was alone the moment you realized no one was coming in behind her and asked her if she was lost. She had smiled so shyly at you, her face so pretty and her curls so bouncy as she explained her ‘Uncle Tommy’ was next door doing something for the business.

An hour later she had been joined by not one but two rather handsome men, both of whom had thanked you for watching after the girl.

With a warm smile and a hand propped on your hip, you told them you hadn’t minded in the slightest and that she was welcome there anytime. And the year since then proved that it had been one of the best things you could’ve said.

She’s sitting there now, in the corner booth with her textbooks and notebooks sprawled out across the brown speckled formica. A plate of half-eaten chicken tenders and fries pushed across the entire thing, a reusable water that was half full beside it. She had asked for a milkshake, and you had caved even as Joel’s strict words in a deep baritone had told you “only one a week”. But you heeded his words- mostly.

Sometimes, the girl would bat her beautiful, wide eyes at you and you would cave. Today was one of those days. And you’ve been caught as Joel’s eyes go right to the remnants of whip cream and chocolate that swirl at the bottom of the empty glass the second he enters with a jingle of the bell over the door.

But all he does is shake his head with a lopsided smile and proceeds to walk up to the counter where you’re refilling the sugar caddies with multicolored packets. Your heart flutters as his brown eyes meet yours, set in such a handsome face. Thick scruff adorning his strong jaw and chocolate tresses that are beginning to curl on the ends tousled from a day spent underneath a hardhat. He always looks so damn good and your stomach flips as he shoves his keys into a front pocket of jeans that hug him in all the right places. He’s covered in paint today, or glue- something that’s stained his clothing in a way that screams dedicated worker and competent.

“Hey there, sweetheart. Y’all okay today?”

taglist: @punkshort @sawymredfox @pedroscurls @pascalssbabyy

@copperhalfcent @jeansjoie @starry-eyes-love @mac-and-cheese21

@ravensmadreads @tuquoquebrute @jessthebaker @hiddenbabynyc

@perfectly-imperfect-me23 @mboogie3 @r3dheadedwitch @wintersquirrel

@sarahhxx03 @noisynightmarepoetry @casa-boiardi @endurexxsurvive

@lasocia69 @friskispunk @merci-killing @caitlynsixxx @missladym1981

@eff4freddie @for-a-longlongtime @kirsteng42 @mac-and-cheese21

@vickie5446 @almostfoxglove @bluestar22x @dollydaydreamsposts @mosssbawls

@somedayheaven @sebastanot @echoe-ethe

[luvvyouforever]

carpenter!joel miller x lumberjack!logan howlett

[virginreprise]

✧ ˚ 　 · 　 　 . B L U E M O O N ✩ M O T E L

jackson!joel miller x reader ✧˖ * °

✧. ┊ ddlg dynamics, smut, fluff, edging, mean and soft joel, so basically joel, squirting, daddy kink, unspecified age gap, dirty talk, established relationship, just more of my depravity pretty much

✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　° words: 3.9k

─── ⋆⋅. AO3 .⋅⋆ ──

“C’mon, baby, don’t cry.” 

There’s a hand down your face, another dancing along the skin of your stomach and pressing against the flesh—calming the heaving breaths that come with the tears. 

Both legs are shaking with the exertion, your lips trembling as you rub your thighs together in a desperate attempt to tip yourself over the edge. To finally give yourself relief from the nauseatingly painful ache that leaks between your legs—seeping into the crevasses of your brain and rendering yourself a dumb, whimpering mess at the faux sympathy and shaking determination of the object of your desecration. 

“Joel,” you whisper, throat too sore from where his cock had been inside it previously to open your mouth more than an inch. “D-daddy.” 

“Shhhh, babydoll, s’okay.” 

Through your blurred eyes, you can see his smirk, the undeniable pride that lingers in the pits of every bruise on his body; every scar that disappears when he has you so desperate. 

“It’s not,” you manage to whine. “Daddy, please, it hurts.” 

All he does is laugh, kissing uncharacteristically softly along your body—a distinct difference from the harsh treatment of your poor, abused cunt he had been toying with for the past hour. Sweat was glistening along your skin, naked as the day you were born save for the frilly little socks on your feet he had insisted you keep on in case your toes were to become cold. Couldn’t have that. 

No, Joel’s little angel baby could not have cold feet. That level of discomfort was far too much for the man to allow. It was perfectly fine to have your clit rubbed raw and swollen, however. That was a pain you needed for your own peace of mind. 

“I know it does,” he muttered with little sympathy, thumb running over your nipple—a jolt at the sensation and Joel’s smirk widening at the discovery. “Oh, honey, you’re so sensitive, ain’t ya?” 

You peel your eyes open to scowl at him, the condition he’s worked you up to making you so irritable you could hardly care if he was disappointed in your attitude. 

“Yes!” you whine, hand clawing at his shirt—the object of your desires hovering above you, still fully clothed whilst you lay naked and sweating. “Daddy, please, I haven’t been bad!” 

It was the truth. Joel knew it too. You’d been his perfect girl all these weeks he’d been busy helping control the dangerous amount of infected that had been hoarding the mountains surrounding Jackson. Long days and late nights, a tired and consequently irritable Joel coming home to a sweet and obedient you that didn’t cry, barely even flinched when he snapped at you that time you’d been rambling about your day and he wasn’t in the mood to find it endearing. You’d just quietly apologised and then crawled onto the floor to take your place at his feet—arm wrapping around his leg and face nuzzling into his thigh. 

He’d apologised the next morning and kissed you all over, more forgiving than he was now: hovered over you and pulling away every time you felt the coil tighten and threaten to snap. 

“I know you have,” he said matter-of-factly. “And daddy’s very proud of you but this isn’t a punishment, baby. I’m rewardin’ you.”

“No you’re not-” 

“Hey, now,” he scolded, gripping the hands that fisted at his shirt, wrapping his fingers around your wrists and pushing them against your chest; holding you hostage as he explained himself. “Don’t interrupt me or I ain’t ever lettin’ you finish.” 

You pouted, still defiant as ever but decided forgivingly to hear him out, mumbling a half-hearted apology and letting him speak. 

“I ain’t tryna make you feel bad, baby, daddy would never wanna do that to you. ‘Specially with how good you’ve been and I know it don’t feel too good right now but the payoff is gonna be somethin’ special, I promise you.” The grip of your wrists began to loosen at your quizzical brow, the contempt replaced with confusion. 

“But how-”

“Shh, honey.” He shook his head softly, bringing your hands to his lips and placing kisses along the knuckles. “You have to trust me. You do trust me, don’t ya?” 

You nodded enthusiastically, never one to deny the notion that you trusted him implicitly—he had your whole life and, despite his questioning, he would never doubt your devotion. 

“Then just let daddy take care of you, okay?” he mumbled against your collarbone, fingers sliding along your skin to nestle between your thighs again, stroking and pinching at your poor cunt once more—clit twitching as he played you with the expert precision that years of experience had gifted to him. Those goddamn hands that had your cheeks heating every time they touched softly along your skin; the most innocent of caresses sending you blazing hot. Skin marred. 

Heaving breaths came from your chest when he slipped his fingers inside your wet hole, slick running down your legs and creating a damp spot on the sheets. A stain that you would apologise for and he would clean, promising you that he didn’t care. That this house was as much yours as it was his now. 

It had been a quick transition: the way you began to permeate his space. Angel hairbrush on his dresser, panties hanging from the corner of the headboard and the smell of roses lingering in the bathroom steam. He kept you locked in the house that echoed deafeningly before you came traipsing through the front door—the adoration he had for you growing until there was nothing left except the sweltering, burning love that sparked the wood walls and encouraged the smoke that threatened to flame. 

You loved him; that much you knew. You loved the way that he took care of you, understood the grievances and the strife, understood the need to let go of yourself, to revert to that childlike personality you had lost years before you should’ve. The stunted childhood—lost to the corners of your nostalgic memory of what it was to be carefree. He let you not care. There was no responsibility, there in his arms. Your head was not full with the thoughts that came so dark in those hours of solitude that kept the blood pumping and your heart screaming. 

All you had to do was be loved by him; he made it so easy with the way he spoke to you. The way he loved you. 

“That’s my good girl.” The praise was dragged from him by a choked moan, his fingers curling, thumb playing with your clit and lips along your neck—bruising and marking. Time, as a moving thing, slowly began to soften his paranoia, and those blooming purple splotches along your neck and breasts, nipped along your thighs, were something to be proud of. Something that he looked at from the corner of his eye, smiling softly into his drink when Annie from the bakery worried over you—thinking naively that the marks were injuries from patrols you had been banned from long ago. Smouldering from afar as you tried to explain and then cowering when he would see Tommy’s disproving glare and Maria’s distaste grow stronger than usual. 

Marks that he created again in the sweat of his bed, with you whining and begging him for release. 

“Please, Daddy,” you sniffled, stomach tightening again—so easy to build you up after he’d deprived you so many times already. “Can’t take much more…” 

“Oh, my little girl.” There was a certain lilt to his tone as he cooed, an intentional quickening of his fingers that told you, even in your blissed-out state, that this was not the time. That he would pull away as soon as he felt you clamping around him and panting in the wake of your desperation. 

“Daddy,” you cried again, tears streaming into your temples, trailing along your scalp and making you shiver with the contrasting cooling of your blazing hot skin. “P-please don't.” 

“Don’t what, baby?” You groaned at his question, sobs falling at his laugh. “C’mon, angel, tell Daddy what you want. Don’t leave me wonderin’.” 

Your words were coming out in unintelligible babbles as the fire raged deep in your belly, spreading to your hips and forcing them to buck as they burnt—blisters appearing along your skin as you tried to ask him if you could come, tried to tell him how much you needed it, contemplating uttering that fateful word from your lips that guaranteed your safety. Cry in his arms for a bit and then smile as he softened and gave you exactly what you wanted.  

“C-come, Daddy,” you managed to whimper, ready to scream when he replied. 

“Say again, honey. Didn’t quite catch that.” 

You gripped at the sheets, sweating all over, feet too hot with the socks adorning them and cried into the pillows as he pushed you right to the edge of the cliff, holding you gracefully over the lip, keeping you teetering—stomach spinning. You begged him to let you go, to kick your legs out from under you and let you feel the sweet release. 

“Need to come, p-p-please.” For a moment, you thought you had him, clit tingling, palms sweating, chest heaving, ready to finally jump, and then as quickly as the hope had come, it was squandered as he pulled his hand away from your legs, and began shushing your cries—sobs fully encapsulating you as he took you in his arms and kissed over your face. 

“Breathe, angel, it’s okay,” he murmured into your hair, careful not to press his full weight into you as he pulled your chest to his and kissed the tip of your nose, each cheek, your forehead and then your lips—a choreographed worship that had become the biggest comfort to you in the times where he denied you everything you wanted. 

“Daddy…” you said through the sobs. “Why?”

“It’s okay,” he muttered, dodging your question with no grace and all brute force. “It’ll be worth it, babygirl, I promise. Daddy promises, yeah?” 

You shook your head defiantly, expressing as best as you could your irritation with him—a mood that he would let slide for now because he knew fully that you didn’t deserve what he was inflicting on you. You had been so good, the bestest of girls for him whilst he battled the long days and harsh conditions—staying as sweet as possible and knowing him well enough that being a brat purely because he wasn’t giving you enough attention, was not one of the ways to make him feel better. 

You had been good—his perfect girl. You deserved to come as many times as you comfortably could, and you deserved his love and affection—the softest of touches and the sweetest of nothings. 

But, he needed an outlet. He needed somewhere to put all the irritation and the gruelling mental battles—all the way inside you. He needed to punish you for his own peace of mind but still give you the sweet reward he was hoping to pull from you. 

“Listen to me,” he said sternly, looking you straight in your bleary eyes as you clung to the broad expanse of his back, adding to the maps of scars along the muscle with the unconscious press of your nails into his skin. “Daddy isn’t being mean, baby. I promise. I need you to trust me on this one and if you don’t, you tell me, okay? You know I ain’t gonna be mad.” 

And just like that Joel was there. Joel Miller, who treated everyone he cared about like they were fine china, was shining into the hedonism that darkened the bedroom. It softened your resolve, blessed by the beauty of every complexity that made up the man above you. So you nodded, the harshness of his eyes disappearing, the hint of a smile crossing his wrinkled brow and a promise sealed as he kissed you. 

“Okay,” you murmured, pussy still on fire, eyes still flaming with adoration and depraved desire. “I trust you.” 

The smile you got was an expression reserved only for these moments, times when he wasn’t being the stubborn, stoic man that you used to be so terrified of. The softness that he kept just for you—a woman that had captured him completely and made him feel revitalised by the innocence of your youth and the genuineness of your affections. 

A woman that he would watch squirm under the heat of his beckoning fingers as they slipped inside you once more, a determination in his eyes that smouldered and flickered until you were shuddering against the feeling—hips bucking into his hand, eyes fluttering closed as the tears pressed into your hairline, lingering in the corners of your eyes and spilling when your legs began to shake. 

“Daddy,” you whined, unable to think of anything but that goddamn word—the name that had completely changed your life on the barren plains of a cracked America, the solace of his arms and the comfort of the wondrous space he had provided for you. The safety. 

“Lean into it, babydoll,” he murmured over the squelch coming from in between your legs. “Relax for me…breathe.” 

His words soothed the burns, salve of his love stinging along the blisters and you let out a sharp exhale, chest slowing to a steady in and out. You braced yourself with a hand on his clothed back, whining at the feeling of fabric against his shoulders and trailing your fingers towards the hem of his shirt and tugging. 

The emptiness you felt when he pulled his fingers from you to rip his shirt from his body was almost unbearable, mumbling a high-pitched beg as your ears rang and your head went fuzzy. If you were just a little more conscious, you would’ve smiled at the unbelievable way he seemed to read you, his fingers slipping and thrusting as soon as the cotton hit the floor and his skin was against yours. 

“Better?” he muttered against your skin, a short laugh falling from his lips when you nodded eagerly and pulled him closer to you—desperate to feel him against you. You always were. You knew you were in trouble when he fucked you with his clothes on, the man knowing how much you adored feeling the heat of him against you, sweat against sweat, bodies completely entangled. You craved it. You breathed it. You devoted your life to the feeling of his body pressed against you and his forehead against yours as he breathed in every expelled depravity. 

It was building there again, clamping around his fingers, slick dripping and eyes squeezing shut as he pressed kisses all over your face—wherever his lips could reach. Devotion squeezed inside the domination, an overpowering feeling overcoming you as he began intentionally stroking at that damned spot inside you that he found with the same precision he killed—bloodied hands blooming inside you, scraping against the sponge and pressing his free palm against your stomach. 

The added pressure, the thumb against your clit had your brain ascending to euphoria, madness clawing at you as you tugged him closer; whimpering and shaking. 

“There we go,” he said proudly. “We found it, huh? I can feel you squeezing me. Gonna cut off my damn circulation.” 

“I’m sorry,” you cried pathetically, only recognising the scolding tone of his voice and not the jest that it was meant to be taken as, your hazy mind distracting you from yourself—pulling your body from its resting place and draping you amongst the clouds in heaven. A paradisiacal lunacy overcoming the sensibilities and leaving you in his hold. Trusting completely. 

“Don’t be sorry, sweet girl. Just focus on that feeling for me,” he requested, fingers still stroking, feeling still growing and transitioning. Something new. “It feel different?” he asked as if he were reading your thoughts. Half the time you believed that he really could see inside your mind and when you muttered a broken ‘yes,’ he nodded along with you, muttering praises that were laced with a fascination with your body’s workings—the mechanisms that brought you to such a brink. 

“Feels like-,” you heaved, moans deepening, fingers digging into his shoulders, marring the skin with sensual flagellation and scarring him with your love and desperation. 

“Like you’re gonna pee?” He finished for you and you nodded in confirmation, his fingers working double time now, pressing against your stomach as this foreign feeling brewed inside you—indescribably terrifying and equally enthralling. 

“D-don’t…can’t,” you babbled and a reassuring kiss was placed to the tip of your nose. 

“It’s okay, baby, just lean into it. Let yourself feel it, you ain’t gonna piss on me, I promise.” 

His strokes were so intentional, each swipe built to make you feel something so beautifully incandescent and sinful. His hand was flat against your stomach, his fingers guiding your hips upwards as he reached deep inside you, pulling cries from your mouth you had never heard before, thankful for the thickness of the walls and the security of his comforting words as he took everything from you. Swallowed every moan, every tear, every devotional that echoed along the four walls, seeped into the crevasses of the mattress and stained the sheets with a connection that could not be scrubbed from the fabric. 

“Feels- Daddy, it feels-”

“I know, honey, I know.” 

You begin to shake, thighs twitching and head spinning. Fingers scissoring inside you, a shit-eating grin on his face that you could only just make out through your tear-streaked vision and a gust of wind passing through your hair, sending it flying into the night as you reach the edge of the sea cliff and gazed at the crashing waves. 

It happened quicker than expected, more sudden than even Joel had anticipated when you begin to seize and go hurtling over the edge, gushing around his fingers, feeling the wetness spray all over him—all over the sheets that become soaked with the essence of you. 

“Fuck,” Joel whispered, enamoured with the way you arch and sing for him, trying to keep his own arousal at bay as you cry in his arms. “There we go,” he murmurs, coming back to himself as he feels you clinging to him; needing him close to you. “That's my precious girl…exactly what daddy wanted.” 

You’re jerking and writhing when he finally pulls away, dragging the slickness up through your folds, your legs closing around his hand when he brushes against your clit. 

“N-n-no, daddy,” you beg. “No more.” 

He laughs at the juxtaposition, the exhaustion that had replaced your desperation to come, the sensations that had overcome you: leaving you braindead. A state that he knew should not be taken lightly. 

“Oh, my baby,” he muttered. “You were perfect.” 

Your eyes were slow to open, his praise basking you in a light glow, illuminating the depths of your soul and replacing the broken pieces that he had just left strewn across the bed. 

“What…” you breathed out, legs squeezing together and a light moan gracing the room at the oversensitivity. “What did I just do?” 

“You just squirted, honey. Been wantin’ to try that with ya for a while now.” He said it so casually, like he hadn’t just given you an orgasm that rivalled every other release you’d had in your life—coerced by an hour of edging and begging; your body exploding into a diabolical rapture that replayed in your mind as he stroked your hair from your face. “Daddy’s so proud of you, baby.” 

You just whined in response, tugging him as close as possible, letting him rest on his side of the bed and pull you on top of him. You clung to him like he was your life source, breaths still steadying, cunt still tingling and three mumbled words on your lips that had been uttered so many times now you could hardly even remember your life before you adored him so ardently. 

“Love you, Daddy.” You buried your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent, happy with his hands all over you and his chest against yours. “Missed you so much.” 

He knew what you were referring to, he knew that you had needed his undivided attention—edged or not—for some time now. He hadn’t been as good to you as he’d wanted to be, quick fucks slowly replacing the languid strokes by the fireplace and the whispered words of devotion against the wall; it had been tough on the both of you. All those hours spent in the snow;  ugly, malnourished, infected lunging for him when he took a wrong step, fighting with all his might to survive. For you and the prospects that clouded your union. 

“I know, babygirl, I missed you too,” he confessed, pressing his cheek into the side of your head, lips pressing feather-light into your hair and his arms tight around your waist. He would not let you go. Could not bear it if you were to slip from his hold. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere now. You know I’ve got the next few weeks off. Gonna spend all of it with my girl. Gonna keep you fucked and fed, how bout that.” 

You giggled and shook your head, squeezing him tight and pulling your face from your hiding place to look him in the eyes. 

“Sounds perfect, Daddy.” 

He looked up at you, eyes scanning your face with a smile that lightened his old features, your hands cupping his cheeks and smoothing along the wrinkles around his eyes. And he let you touch him, let you admire his pretty eyes and strong jaw. All man and not mild. Strong and sturdy. Looking to protect you from the horrors that he daredn’t speak of, from the judgements of others until he’d convinced you that keeping you locked away was normal. That your contributions to the community was keeping him happy. 

A beat, silence permeating the tranquility and then you: managing to fluster the Adonis that lay underneath you. 

“You’re so handsome, Daddy,” you muttered. “The most handsome daddy ever.” 

Joel stared with poorly contained adoration, a smile playing at his lips, a glint in his eyes as he mirrored your movements and took your face in his hands. Thumbs stroked your cheekbones, playing at the softness of your lips and then trailing down the bridge of your nose. 

“And you’re the prettiest little babydoll I’ve ever seen,” he said softly. “My bestest girl.” 

Your cheeks grew hot, his praise and compliments that came far too often, always leaving you a grinning, sweating mess and you hid yourself in his chest, feeling the vibrations of his laugh as you rested your ear against his heartbeat and brought your thumb to your lips. 

You’d stay there forever if you could, naked, not afraid of the consequences of your vulnerability. Just completely safe in his arms, loved by a man who was so full of care he was bursting at the seams with a desire to protect someone. To protect you. And with a mumbled “I love you,” on his lips, a squeeze of your waist as he rolled onto his side, taking you with him, you understand what it felt like to be loved completely. To have every semblance of your being desired and wanted. 

If he ever left, you would have no idea how to reconcile the grief—how to cope with the loss of someone who gave you everything. 

So, you lay there and didn’t think about the next time he’d be on patrol. You lay there, in his arms, not thinking of the possibilities. He promised he would always come back to you. 

He would always come back.

© virginreprise

i have no idea what this is. i'm so tired i can't even be bothered to write this note. i wrote this in the past few hours and its now five in the fucking morning and i can barely see. please appreciate my effort.