#tlou fanfiction

[angelsforthenight]

bumping cooters with abby (with panties on) 𝜗𝜚⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

underwear teasing with abby would be the most fun thing ever! imagine grinding against her, both of you still sporting panties whilst your legs are interlocked, hips rutting against each other roughly. arousal oozes through, making the way you move against each other slick and slippery.

“fuuuuck.” abby whines, her muscled arm rippling from the exertion. she clutches your thigh for good leverage, rolling her hips harder. the sounds you two are making are obscene, not just the moans and mewls that are filling the room, but also the wet noises of your clothed pussies rubbing against each other. clearly, there’s nothing dry about this dry humping.

“holy shit, abby.” you gasp, voice raw from pleasure. you can feel your stomach tighten, your pleasure reaching unbearable amounts. your movements, alongside hers start to become inconsistent and sloppy as you two near release.

abby knows you’re close, so she pushes your panties aside to catch your clit beneath the pad of her thumb: rolling slow, tight circles on it. you whimper loudly, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your hips jerk and buckle erratically.

you respond by heightening the friction, satisfying abby’s aching flesh, adorned by the barrier of your underwear.

it doesn’t take long at all for you both to reach your peak, shuddering intensely as you two make a mess of your underwear, sticky evidence pooling and even dripping down your thighs. such a tease, a buzz. a game.

[seethew3stwithm3]

I've been saving this fic in my drafts until I had a few free days to read it and OH BOY am I hooked already AHHHH

Gonna be honest, I was rubbing my hands together like a fly when Joel was all like 'no it's fine, you had a nightmare, let me take care of you,' because baby I know you're LYINGGGGGGG (but honestly I don't mind AT ALL)

I love when a man is a nasty little freak <3

I'm so excited to continue reading, and over the next few days, I'll be SHAMELESSLY indulging in it!!!

smother - part i: deliverance

dark!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: starving. lost. desperate. you find a cabin in the woods, and to your dismay, it's occupied. a plan to have a quick bite of food with an intense, intriguing stranger turns into more than you'd bargained for when he makes you realize everything you've been missing out on. 8.6k words chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI! noncon, nonconsensual touching, dubcon - reader eventually enthusiastically consents but the syndrome is stockholming so its dubcon, reader is a virgin, big juicy age gap (reader is 19, joel is 55) manipulation/lying/gaslighting, slow burn and tension building chapter, joel is kind of a creepy menace ngl a/n: i'm so so very excited to share the first chapter of my new series! (if this flops after how much i got hyped for it i will be logging off forever) the themes in this story are dark so if the tags aren’t for you it’s understandable & just keep scrollin on by! this will end up being nasty and smutty, but only after a wee bit of buildup so don't fear. comments and reblogs are always beyond appreciated!

Save me. Please, anyone…

Another wave of desolate, crying desperation tears through you as you trudge along, tripping yet again - maybe over your own two feet, a root, the very ground you walk on, something. You’re much too hazy and burnt out to even care what you stumbled on as you just press on, press on, press on.

A wave of pain rolls through your stomach again as it burns cavernously empty. You move as a ghost, a shell of yourself now, using passing trees as support. Your hands touch the cold wood reluctantly, a painful little hiss through your teeth as your fingers practically cramp up from the cold. You’d lost your gloves somewhere along the way, days ago now, what feels like a lifetime. You need to stop and rest desperately now, your body close to giving out. Your heart hammers in fear, wondering if you’d even be able to get up again.

A cabin comes into view in the distance, tucked nicely in a clearing of trees. You think your eyes are deceiving you, that you’ve finally succumbed to the madness that comes with such hunger and loneliness, your brain conjuring up images to comfort you. You see smoke coming out of a chimney on the roof, and your heart equally swells and drops at the discovery - it’s not a shelter for you alone, no. Not a lucky discovery, somewhere to lay your head tonight that’s dry and warm without disturbance. Someone already lives here, has a home here, and they might not take too kindly to strangers. If there’s anything you’ve learned in the last few weeks of your own personal hell, it’s to tread carefully. Always.

You keep your footsteps light and quiet, trying to approach with some semblance of caution. Your empty stomach is pushing you along, begging for any scrap of food that might be inside, hopefully offered up to you by the kindness of a stranger. Berries and the occasional rabbit or lucky can of food found were not enough to live off of anymore - you could feel the way your body faded away by the day, losing any bit of strength you’d had in the first place.

You pause, hitching your breath and then barely daring to breathe at all when you get close enough to hear a sound - a low, throaty grunting followed by the crack of wood. Your eyes scan the area as you sneak closer and then land upon him. He’s broad and muscled, you can see that much from back here. Messy, dark hair that curls all around his head and down his neck. When his body turns enough that you see his face a little bit more, you notice he looks older and has dark, piercing eyes. They send a shudder through you, even from afar, only making you feel colder out in this frosty afternoon.

You wrap your coat a little tighter and decide to get closer, assess the situation, see if he seems friendly enough to give you something to eat and send you on your merry way. He swings an ax high up in the air and brings it down swiftly onto a large piece of wood, splitting it before tossing the logs into a pile already full of more firewood. You press your lips together, noticing how strong he is, betting there are well built up muscles underneath that flannel shirt of his. That makes him a threat, a big one, you quickly assess. 

You’re too distracted, not watching your step, when a large branch cracks underneath your boot. You wince and squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, holding perfectly still, your breath coming out in quick, staccato exhales.

“H-hey!” you hear a gruff voice, sounding out of breath. You peek your eyes open slowly to see the man looking in your direction and silently curse yourself. “C’mon out!” he yells, and you see him reach to his waist, hands grazing a shining revolver holstered there.

Your stomach pulls into tight knots and you stand frozen for a few moments. Your brain quickly assesses everything, weighing the options. Running away, with no possibility of eating a single thing is one option, but the likelihood this stranger will shoot you seems high no matter what, so you decide to take your chances.

You put your hands in front of you, palms out, and slowly emerge from behind the trees. You walk gingerly along the crisp, frosty grass, crunching under your feet every step of the way. Your anxious breaths come out in little puffs in front of you as the cold air enters and exits your lungs.

The man falters, his fist closing and then opening again, pulling away from the revolver on his hip a bit. He blinks hard, staring at you in this silent showdown. “W-well shit, you’re just a girl…” he finally says quietly to himself, his posture relaxing a little. You stand perfectly still, choked up now that you’re confronted with the idea of speaking to him, such a large, imposing wall of a man, and those eyes, god, those eyes.

“I’m not gonna hurt you if you don’t give me a reason to, now, girl.” His voice is the tiniest bit softer, and you pick up on his Southern drawl, an accent you’ve heard a few times before. “Do ya need help?” He wipes his forehead with the back of his arm, a gleam of sweat having built up from chopping wood and his large chest still heaving. He takes a step closer to you, and you don’t step back, but feel every muscle coil up tightly as your mind screams at you that this was a mistake, a huge fucking mistake. Your feet tingle, toes flexing and getting ready to run, but you can’t make yourself do it, to take that first step.

Instead, you nod. “I- y-yes…” you say quietly. You’ll never understand why you say it, other than the fact that you’re drawn in by him, by his chestnut hair flecked with gray, his patchy beard that he’s currently scratching. By his build that looks so… safe yet dangerous, but you get the feeling that no, he’d never hurt you. You envision those arms wrapping around you, holding you tightly, shielding you from the world and everything you’ve been through. You never thought much about relationships or boys before - just a few simple and innocent crushes, but it hadn’t been on your radar as such a shy kid and teenager. But this… this was what people talked about - attraction. It nearly stole your breath the closer you got to him, threatening to suck you into what felt like an endless void. 

“Alright,” the man replies, trying to match your quieter demeanor. He glances around, eyes narrowed and scanning the woods beyond you. “You with anyone? Or all alone out here?���

You know why he’s asking, you’ve seen what people can do - sending someone innocent and unimposing out to lay a trap, but you don’t lie when you shake your head. “A-alone. I’m alone, swear, sir.”

His jaw seems to tick, noticeable even from the distance you’re at before he answers you. “Okay, then. C’mon a little closer, I won’t bite, okay?” he says, and he’s so convincing that you do believe him, despite your instincts telling you otherwise. The world is cruel and unrelenting, taking away most of the trust you’ve ever had in humanity the second you place it into anything or anyone. 

You move a little closer, small, gentle steps, and he nods encouragingly. 

“Now there ya go. Look at ya…” he marvels with a click of his tongue, shaking his head once you’re just a few feet away from him. 

He takes in your messy hair, slightly matted from wearing a winter hat on and off the last few weeks and sleeping on the ground. Your clothes have seen better days too, your skin smudged with dirt no matter how many water sources you found to try and rinse off a little bit. Even despite all of that, he gazes at you with a curiosity, with that look of interest that you felt like you’d given him without trying to. It’s quiet for another moment, the both of you sizing each other up, until Joel’s look turns a little more pitiful when you shiver as a sudden gust of wind whips past you, your threadbare coat doing little to protect you from the chill in the air here. You can’t be sure if your shuddering has less to do with the wind and more with the way that this man’s eyes are digging into what feels like your very soul.

“We gotta get you inside, okay? You’re shakin’, and you look like you ain’t had a proper meal in… too long…” He continues to eye you up and down, taking in your weak frame. 

You stay silent for another moment, swallowing hard and then shuddering again. “I - I don’t know…” you breathe out. You might have some sudden, fantastical dream that this man is your savior, but it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be cautious - the mind is a tricky, deceiving thing.

“I ain’t gonna ask again, ain’t gonna beg ya, girl. C’mon,” he says a little more roughly, a hand shooting out quickly and grabbing you by the wrist and tugging. “Just want to get a good meal in you, alright?”

You wince at the grasp on your wrist, the roughness and hardness he’s starting to show you, but you let him pull, starting to move your feet and trail after him. 

“T-thank you…sir,” you murmur quietly, and he swings his head to look back at you, his eyes softening. 

“You’re welcome. Now get inside and get warm. I’ve got a fire goin’.” He lets go of your wrist, trusting you to follow him as his heavy boots clunk up the few steps leading to the front door of his cabin. It’s modest, beautifully constructed, all dark wood around the outside and a small porch. You start to wonder if this man built it himself, or just found it as it is. Your initial impression of him leads you to believe that he does seem like the type to build a whole god damn cabin. He half looks like a lumberjack already in the plaid flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. 

“Found this place ‘bout five years ago,” he says as if he could read your mind while he swings the door open. “Real nice and private, so don’t worry.”

Your eyes narrow slightly at his last comment, but you try to brush it off as you enter inside with him. The warm air hits your body, an immediate balm to your frayed nerves and chilled skin, a slightly smoky smell from the fire hits your nostrils and you immediately hear the crackle and pop of the logs in the little fireplace. The cabin is mainly one big room, a kitchen tucked into the corner right to the left of the door, and the living room beyond that with cozy couches and chairs, even a TV that you doubt is working but find yourself hopeful for some reason. It’s been a long time since you were able to watch a movie, flashing back to childhood memories when you’d lived in a more stable, thriving community that had power. 

Stairs beyond that lead to what you assume are bedrooms or a bathroom, and your eyes curiously take in all the little details and decor - the man’s jackets hanging along the wall near the entrance, his rifle propped next to the door and several different pairs of worn boots. 

You realize you’re just standing right near the doorway, silently looking around in a daze while your new acquaintance has been trying to get your attention. 

“Hey, girl, I’m talkin’ t’ya…” his voice says, the noise fading back into your consciousness.

You shake your head. “S-sorry,” you say quietly, a shy little squeak. “I was just -“

“S’alright. I got some stew goin’, that okay? I mean y’don’t have much of a choice, but I’ll ask anyhow,” he says with a wry chuckle. You simply nod in response. 

“Now go on, put your things down and sit ‘n get comfortable,” he waves towards the general direction of the kitchen table and the couch before turning back to the stove to stir the pot simmering there. You stand, feeling frozen still, panic threatening to climb up through your insides and completely take over. You still don’t feel safe, despite this man offering to warm you and feed you. How could you, you think, when you’ve been running for several weeks, trying to get away from the carnage that became your life. 

He eyes you, unmoving and frightened looking and sighs heavily. “I said,” he says, tension thickening in the air around you, “Sit.”

You clear your throat, desert dry and scratchy, and set your backpack by the door, slowly creeping over to the couch, not wanting to make this mystery man any angrier. You settle yourself down and the cushions feel like heaven, your legs and body achy from the lack of comfort you’ve had for weeks. You try not to show just how good it feels to settle into the soft, plush fabric, letting the cushions mold to your body.

“Good,” Joel coos as he glances at you from the stove. “Now that we’ve got you settled in, you got a name?”

You weakly tell him your name and he shows you the first little smile you’ve seen from him, nodding. “Gotcha. I’m Joel, okay?”

“O-okay.” You push the words out while you watch him stir the pot on the stove. You sit in silence for a few moments, thankful for the time to just catch your breath and think. Just one bowl of stew, and you’ll be out of here. You’ll ask if there’s a community nearby, somewhere that could take you in, then grab that information and run, not bother this man any more than you need to.

Joel walks over, handing you a cup of water that you shamelessly start to gulp down before he goes back and ladles some of the delicious smelling stew into a bowl. The second the scent hits you, your stomach rumbles loudly. Joel cracks a smile as he hears it and continues ladling, a brow quirked. 

“Hungry, huh?” he asks, walking the steaming bowl over to you with a spoon. You gingerly take it from his hands, being careful not to brush your still chilled fingers against his. You swear his eyes flash at you when he notices how avoidant you’re being, but he turns and walks back to the stove, getting himself a bowl as well. Joel settles down into a chair across from the couch where you sit with a weathered groan, just watching you for a few quiet moments. It does everything but put you at ease, your stomach twisting a little. You blow on a spoonful of stew before taking a bite, your mouth an explosion as it waters and takes in the delicious, rich, food. 

“Mmm,” you whine out, unable to help it. Your body wants to lunge forward, lap the stew up until every single drop is in your starved body and you can finally feel a sense of fullness again. You quickly take another spoonful, much too hot, and wince a little as it hits your tongue. 

“Slow on down, girl,” Joel says. “Let’s talk a little and it’ll slow down your eating.”

You just stare, noticing your body is trembling a little bit, and has been since you met Joel outside. You try to take a deep breath to settle your nerves, your legs so tensely pressed together that it's starting to hurt.

“You feelin’ afraid of me, that it?” he asks you, looking a little too self satisfied at the observation as he crosses his arms and leans towards you. His biceps bulge and stretch with the motion and you can’t help but find your eyes drawn to them, the way they pull at the soft flannel of his shirt. You feel your face heat up all the way to your ears and you blink hard, averting your eyes. 

“I- I mean… I don’t know you…” you mutter, trying to sound more confident than you feel.

“I know,” he says, sounding more sympathetic. “Done some bad things in my time, so hell, maybe you should be scared of me. I ain’t a nice guy. But I won’t hurt someone like you, promise ya that.” His words are enough of a reason for you to hightail it out of here the first second you can, but why do you believe them? Why do you believe him?

“How d-do you know I’m not bad too? That I don’t deserve it?” His eyes narrow and his lip twitches into a smirk before he lets out a mocking little chuckle in your direction.

“Oh sweetheart, a man jus’ knows these things. You never hurt even a fly, now have you?” That smirk stays plastered on Joel’s face as he asks and it frustrates you how little of a threat he sees in you, how little fight you have left to give. Yet you can’t find yourself blaming him, you think. If you were facing yourself in his position you’re sure you’d look like as much of a feeble joke as you feel.

You frown, still unable to look him in the eyes for longer than a few seconds, and shake your head. “No… just for hunting…” you admit.

“Alright then. Y’don’t need to act tough in front of me, girl, got it?” Joel concludes, going back to eating his stew.

“Got it,” you respond quietly, letting yourself sink further into the couch as you feel your muscles slowly relaxing.

“Now tell me... what’s this all about? What’s a little young thing like you doin’ out here by herself?”

You bite your lip and sip slowly on another spoonful of stew. “I’m… uh…” you stutter nervously. 

“Spit it out now, there’s nothin’ to be afraid of here, hm?” Joel tries reassuring you, but his words keep coming out so gruffly, doing little to make you feel much better. 

You inhale a deep breath. “Okay…” You swallow. “I was in a… community. I lived there a long time. T-they’re all gone now, I think. We got completely overrun and so I ran.” You sniffle as your nose starts to run from the warmth of the house opposing the cold you’d gotten accustomed to. 

Joel leans forward a bit in his chair, taking a hearty bite of stew, mulling your words over. “Overrun how?” he asks simply, glancing at you, studying your movements, your body language, everything. 

“U-uh, hunters, raiders, whatever they are. Bad.. b-bad people…” You look down at your bowl, not wanting to meet the intensity of his gaze, afraid to fall into his strange, hard warmth. 

“Hm… awful fuckers, ain’t they,” he says, scratching a hand down his beard. “You got away, then?”

You nod and bite inside of your lip, taking another spoonful of stew to keep yourself occupied. “Y-yeah. I ran and ran… just kept… going. They took everything, took over all of our homes…”

Joel sighs, his eyes finally going a little softer. “‘M sorry to hear that, darlin’. You know if anyone is still alive?”

You shrug. “No…”

“Your family? They with ya at this community?”

“Oh.” You shake your head. “No. They… all, uh, passed a long time ago.” Why the hell are you being so open with this stranger? You don’t owe him your story, your secrets, any of it. But you sense the urge to share it, anyhow. Maybe you’re just that desperate for human connection right now. 

“Mm, sorry to hear it again. We all know that feelin’ in a world like this,” he replies thoughtfully. Your eyes widen a bit at the softness he’s showing you right now and you give him a tight lipped smile to show your own sympathy for his losses. 

“You feel up for tellin’ me a little more about the attack? S’okay if it’s too much,” Joel adds on, still studying you with an odd gaze, almost like he’s drinking you in, quenching some thirst he had. His hand twitches, almost as if to reach out to you, but he’s much too far from where he sits right now. 

“I’m not sure if t-there’s much to tell…” you start, but then you find yourself spilling out more details, feeling the freeing sensation of unloading your burdens onto someone else. You tell Joel your community was small but well taken care of, plenty of supplies and food, in an abundant time in its history the last few months. One evening everything changed, when an armed group of mostly men came in, a few women and children in tow, looking absolutely miserable, and they aimed their guns in the air and shot off a few rounds to get everyone’s attention. People came flooding out of their homes, trying to run, only to be tackled or shot down, forced to give up our food and belongings. You tried to hide for as long as you could before slipping out of the home you shared with an older couple who had been taking care of you since you were a teenager, Harry and Josephine. They’d urged you to run, run, run, so you did. Then came your lost days, where you had no clue where you were, when you’d find your next semblance of humanity. Just trying to head west, further and further from the bitter memories you’d now have to leave behind. Barren towns and wilderness passed you over the days, hardly seeing another soul as you hid from infected, spending your nights crying yourself to sleep when you had the energy. 

And now… here you were, sitting on Joel’s couch and eating stew. Unsure of what the hell you’d do next or where you had to go. You had been an orphan for a long time, but this felt deeper, like you were an orphan to the entire world, almost, like you had nothing to even call your own now. 

Joel sits patiently, watching you stumble on words as you tell your story to him, trying not to get too choked up as all the emotions resurface. How empty things had been, how desolate the landscapes to match your faintly beating heart.

He’s leaned fully forward now in his seat, stew somewhat forgotten in his lap as you finish your recounting of the last few weeks. He breathes in and out, a large, heavy sigh that fills the room. It’s still now, fully quiet for a moment. 

“You’re a strong girl for goin’ through all of that, you know that?” he says finally, eyes softer than you’ve seen them yet. 

You just look down, returning to your stew, taking a few bites now that it’s at the perfect temperature. You’ve stopped shaking now, your body warmed up and starting to recognize that you’re getting full. You can’t eat much, your stomach unable to handle more just yet, so you push the stew away, setting it on the coffee table in front of you.

“Yeah…” you say, not really believing it as you glance out the window to watch the late afternoon sun, glaring off the ground outside, light filtering through the trees. 

“You got somewhere to go? After you’re fed and looked over, of course,” Joel asks, his eyebrow shooting up.

You consider lying, just to avoid what you’re afraid he’ll ask you. What you’re afraid you’ll say yes to. You still end up shaking your head silently, clearing your throat. You feel a sting of tears behind your eyes, your whole body going hot with the need to cry, but a deep desire to not show that weakness to him holds you back. You sniffle and blink, studying the knots in the old wood floors.

“Hey,” Joel says, trying to get your attention, to make you show him your vulnerability. “Look at me, c’mon now.” You hear him shift in his seat, a small movement born of irritation as you refuse to do as he says.

You sniffle again and clear your throat, a shake of your head making your hair fall forward, covering and hiding you further. 

“I said look at me.” That stern tone of his is back, sending a shudder through you and fear rippling deep inside your chest. You flick your red rimmed, shining eyes up to his, meeting the dark brown stare, lines permanently etched in between his eyes from all his years of worry.

“Atta girl,” he coos, completely pleasant now. “I got you, okay? You can stay, if ya need. I got food, a home, a warm bed for ya. If you have nowhere else.”

One more blink sends the tears falling down your cheeks, fat and overdue as they slide down your dirty skin, leaving tracks. You sniffle and nod, suddenly feeling a rush of gratitude towards Joel. He may be a stranger, but he fed you, got you warm, and is offering just about the kindest thing he can right now - an invasion on his space, his personal sanctuary, all for a girl he hardly even knows. 

“Y-you’d really do that?” you ask, a little incredulously, like this is a dream you’re about to wake up from any time now. 

He nods, a half smile pulling at the corner of his lips. Satisfaction plastered there now that he’s swayed you in his direction. “I would. Now I don’t wanna hear another word about it. You need to rest, you’ve been through a lot.”

“T-thank you. B-but-”

“Not. Another. Word,” he practically hisses, flashing his eyes angrily before it fizzles out quickly. You can see him practically having to reign in his impulsiveness in the moment. “There ain’t anywhere else to go that’ll keep you as safe as here, I’m tellin’ you that now. You’d be fuckin’ lost out there.” He sits back with his arms crossed now, and you’re worried that you’ve truly upset him now, that unsettling look in his eye glinting again. He wants you to stay… nearly seems to need it. It scares you, yet you feel a tug, a pull, some form of intrigue wanting you to explore that need, understand just what he could see in you.

“I’m s-sorry… I just - you’ve already done a lot for me, and I’d hate to, well, impose, or something,” you say, trying to appease him. It’s mostly true, anyhow, that you do hate to take Joel’s food and time away from him. 

He stands up and silently walks the few steps over to the couch, sitting down next to you, turning himself towards you. It feels like every muscle in your body tenses at his proximity - it makes him seem even bigger the way he takes up his cushion on the couch, body sinking in deeply, his wide shoulders practically a shield to you right now to everything behind him. Something about seeing him up this close is sending you reeling, able to study the lines in his face, his strong, wiry beard streaked with a few gray spots. You flick your eyes over his face, hoping to not be too obvious, but needing to drink him in, learn his features.

“I’m gonna have you listen to me right now, okay? Make sure you’re listenin’ real good, sweetheart.” He pauses for a moment to catch your eye, reaching a hand towards you but resting it right next to your thigh on the couch. “I’m offerin’ somethin’ mighty nice to you, ain’t I? You were ‘bout to die out there, if I’m honest. Much longer and you’d be a goner, I think. Don’t you?”

He’s waiting for a real answer from you, you realize, so you nod, eyes practically unblinking as you hang on his words, a hot coil burning in your stomach as you feel uneasiness eat at you.

“Right.” He sighs quietly. “I’m not tryin’ to be mean, sweetheart. In fact, I care a lot, that’s why I’m tellin’ the truth to ya like this. You ain’t built to be on your own, can see that clear as day. So I’ll have ya stay here and get fed and get your bearings. And I don’t want to hear anymore about it.” 

Of all the things Joel has just said to you, the thing that is stuck in your mind as you turn it over, is the way he’d said he cares. He cares about you. Would that be such a bad thing to be cared for, even if just for a little bit?

You give him a small dip of your head, a shaky smile coming to your lips. “Thank you. I’m uh, grateful.” You’re not sure what else to say, feeling like you’re signing yourself away to something you don’t feel sure about. 

“Ah look at that - a smile,” he says, clearly feeling much more light hearted now that you’ve agreed to accept his help. 

You sit back a little, your muscles finally losing some of their tension and start to eye Joel a little more curiously. “S-so you just live here all by yourself?” you ask, wishing you weren’t still such a stuttering mess. The fact was, this man made you nervous, in a way that you weren’t used to. He scared you, but in a way that it drew you in, a magnetic pull you couldn’t quite explain yet. Something in him commanded respect, reverence, almost, without trying. It was mesmerizing to witness, completely scrambling your mind if you started to think on it too hard. 

“Mhm,” Joel nods languidly, finishing off his stew and then sitting back with a satisfied sigh. He eyes your bowl that’s only half empty and then flicks them back to your face. “Ain’t gonna finish?” he asks, sounding a little irritated before his face softens. “Probably can’t fit much in your little belly right now, huh? Shrunk right up when you didn’t eat much these last few weeks.”

You nod. “I-it was good, I just… I couldn’t finish. It started to hurt…”

His eyes flash with concern. “We’ll take it slow, then,” he says, a little smile creeping onto his face.

You had noticed his avoidance to say much more about himself, so you decide to try your luck and press him again. You clear your throat, trying to turn towards him a little more as well. “You live alone. Don’t you… do you ever talk to other people?”

Joel chuckles, almost condescendingly. “‘Course I do. Town not too far from here - Jackson. I go once and a while to stock up, trade ‘em for some stuff and they’re mighty hospitable to me.”

You nod, trying not to let his snide laugh and tone get to you too much, blinking away the sensitive little tears that threaten to fall again. Joel cocks his head suddenly, seeming to notice. “T-that sounds pretty nice,” you choke out quickly.

“Sorry if I upset ya. Guess you’re right, don’t get enough practice talkin’ to people,” he says a little lighter now, smiling softly again. Joel’s version of a smile seems to only be a soft upturn of his lips, not friendly by nature. It puts you at ease and unease at the same time, that smile of his, but you’d rather see that than the scowl he was sporting at you earlier today. He pats your thigh a few times, showing his apology, and you watch his large hands move on you, noticing they’re scratched and rough. A man’s hands.

“W-wait… Jackson… this town. It’s close by?” you ask, glancing back up at him, the wheels in your head starting to turn. 

Joel’s face falls in an almost dramatic fashion, the lines between his eyes and around his cheeks getting deeper. “Why d’ya ask?” he says, his tone short and frayed sounding, leaning forward again, practically glaring at you from under his eyebrows.

Your own face falls, jaw slack for a moment before it tightens back up. “I just… I want to get out of your hair as quickly as possible, I-I don’t want to be a bother. Could find a new community there, or something…” You feel quiet as a mouse, unsure of how to assert yourself in front of Joel - it feels like there isn’t space for it when you share a room with him.

Joel’s expression becomes more stern. “Didn’t I already tell you, girl, that I’d take care of everythin’?” he spits out, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. You’re visibility tense now, your hands pressing into the cushions of the couch, ready to get up at any moment and bolt. “Y’don’t want to go to a place like that, so big, you’d be lost there, darlin’. Nobody to take care of you…”

He sits back a little, hands falling into his lap and an eyebrow cocked at you. “‘Sides,” he says, glancing out the window for a moment before studying you again. “Too far to go on your own. Can’t have you gettin’ lost in these woods again… look what happened last time, yeah?”

Maybe he’s right. You barely survived these last few weeks without completely losing your mind, and then your life, as he’s been so apt to tell you several times now. Joel… he saved you, and is offering you a place to stay, so the least you could do is be grateful for now. You could always convince him tomorrow, after you’ve had time to think and reset, to take you there, show you the way, and you can see for yourself if it’s a good fit for you or not.

“Y-yeah…” you stutter out, nodding. The look he shoots you has you choking out the next word before you can even think about it. “Yes,” you say more definitively.

“It’s settled then,” he says matter-of-factly, breathing in deeply, his burly chest rising, and then letting it out in a long, slow breath. “You probably wanna get some rest, yeah? I can set up the bed for ya.” Joel says, standing up and grabbing your bowl, taking it to the kitchen along with his empty one. 

“Do y-“ you start, standing up off the couch. 

“Yeah, I got two bedrooms, don’t worry.” His smile grows, liking that he found you predictable enough to know what you were about to ask. Your shoulders sag a little in relief and you give Joel more of a proper smile now, nodding your thanks.

“That would be great, then, yeah. And if it’s not too much…” you voice trails off and you stare at the ground, focusing your eyes on the pattern of the well worn rug underneath your feet. “Maybe a shower, bath, whatever you’ve got.”

Joel turns to face you and then walks back into the living area. He has a calm, serene expression, slightly lit up. “I’ll do ya one better. Get you some clean clothes to wear after that shower, too.”

Nothing in the entire world sounds better than what he’s offering right now.

You hiss loudly as the hot, steaming water hits your leg when you step in. Within moments, you’re basking under it, watching the dirt and dried blood from your various scrapes and scratches swirl down the drain for what feels like ages, finally seeing the water run clear as you lather up the threadbare washcloth Joel had left out for you and scrub yourself down. Every nook, every cranny, your scalp, face, everywhere you could get three times over. You can’t remember the last time you’d felt so clean, even when you’d lived back with your community. You hum happily for a few moments, letting the water soothe you for just a while longer. You hoped Joel could forgive you for taking a little bit of extra hot water today given the circumstances.

Joel hears the water running from downstairs, his fists balling up and relaxing over and over as he sits on his favorite chair, his gaze facing the stairs leading to the spare bedroom and attached bathroom. He feels tense, rolling his neck, continuing to pump his fists open and closed. A feeling in the back of his neck, traveling down his spine and legs that he couldn’t ignore - an urge. He stands up an instant later, not bothering with his well-ignored conscience, and walks upstairs and through the bedroom door with careful steps as he still has on his boots. He presses a hand onto the brass doorknob, turning it slowly, ever so slowly, pushing the door open just an inch, just… enough.

His eyes fall on the shower curtain, a white cloth that perfectly shows your silhouette through it. The valleys and curves of your body move around, arms scrubbing yourself. Joel can smell the evergreen scented soap drifting through the steamy, thick air, watching your body move fluidly as you start to hum quietly to yourself and rinse off.

He wishes he could lie to himself, deny that he felt the blood rush straight to his cock at this little show he was watching. So content, so sweet, so vulnerable right now. Need consumes his every cell - the need to show you just how good you could have it here, to take every bit of you for himself. He grins, a hungry little twitch of his mouth, moving to shut the door when a floorboard creaks under his heavy boot, and he freezes, shuffling out of the way quickly.

You’re humming quietly when you hear it, just a distant sound, but enough to catch your ear. A creak of a floorboard, something you figure isn’t unusual for an old cabin like this, but you feel a shiver run down your spine and rush to turn the water off. You throw the curtain open, water dripping down into your eyes. You quickly rub your fingers over them and glance around the spacious bathroom to find… nothing. You sigh, shaking your head, nearly laughing at the relief you feel. You’re just being paranoid, you chastise yourself as you grab the towel off the hook, squeezing the extra water out of your hair and wrapping it around yourself, snuggling into the simple comfort of a fluffy towel as you dry yourself off. 

Your fingers freeze, running cold when you reach the door, noticing a few inches of space that has the door cracked open. You swore up and down that you’d shut the door behind you, giving you that extra layer of privacy in a stranger's home. It wasn’t possible that… no, you think quickly, shaking your head again. You have to stop being so damn paranoid - your brain is just in survival mode still, looking for threats that aren’t there. 

You step into the bedroom, surveying the heavy wood furniture - an extremely cozy, country feel to the room with large logs comprising the bed frame and a patchwork quilt draped over the top. You peer around, feeling somewhat squirmy at the realization you don’t have any clothing. Joel seemingly came in and took your dirty clothes while you were in the shower, failing to leave you anything clean. It made you feel that strange swirl deep in your stomach again, the one you kept brushing off.

This is a kind man. A kind man, got it? Positive thinking.

You decide to pull it together and head out and down the stairs to the living room. You feel your cheeks heat up, a hot heat creeping all over your body as you feel so exposed, standing in your tiny towel as you descend the stairs. Joel’s eyes follow you down, watching your glowing skin, so fresh and clean, hair dripping errantly, leaving water droplets on the floor in your wake. You see a flash of something a little cloudy and hungry in his gaze before it disappears just as quickly as he showed it. 

He isn’t saying a word, isn’t offering anything, so you swallow down your discomfort and clear your throat a little. “Er… I noticed there weren’t any… clothes… for me…”

Joel sits up a little straighter, putting down the book he’s been looking at. He offers you a smile devoid of much emotion and stands up, his eyes locking on your hips for a few extra seconds. “Shucks, sorry about that, sweetheart. Let’s get you something right now. Got your old clothes ready to be done next time I do the washin’.”

You nod, fighting the urge to chuckle nervously as he walks over and passes you, his arm brushing your damp, bare one before he heads up the stairs. You’re grateful you get to trail him, afraid of just how skimpy this towel is if he’d have insisted on following behind you. You follow him into the other bedroom, his bedroom, and it’s a little more decorated, some books and little wooden carvings on the surfaces, dirty laundry scattered throughout. He opens up a drawer and tugs out a tee shirt, handing it to you, then a pair of gray sweatpants and warm, thick socks. 

“These should fit alright for ya, honey. We’ll get you some more proper fittin’ stuff soon, just gotta have a look around this place. This’ll be nice and warm for ya f’now.” He seems more chipper now, clearly much more talkative than before, and you suppose you don’t mind the change too much. It’s only proving that your paranoia was completely unfounded, just a symptom of your current circumstances. You typically find yourself a pretty trusting person, enough to have gotten you in trouble before, but the events of the last few weeks have broken that for you, leaving you feeling like a shell of who you once were. 

You snap back to reality and take the clothing in your arms, nodding in gratitude. “Thank you. I’ll go, um, change.”

Before you turn, Joel’s voice booms through the air again. “Need anythin’ else to eat? Anythin’ I can get you?” He almost sounds hopeful, like he wants you to need something from him. His eyes linger on your body, leaving you feeling just as naked as if you didn’t have the towel over you at all. 

You shake your head nervously. “Er, if it’s alright with you, I think I just want to rest… A full night’s sleep in a bed sounds like heaven right now.” 

“Let’s get you on off to heaven, then.” He grins, letting you leave the room before trailing after you, waiting outside your door while you change into your clothes. You discover some women’s underwear in the drawers inside of your bedroom, gratefully putting on a clean pair before throwing on everything Joel gave you. It’s comfortable and dry, so you won’t complain about the fit or the style - you’d still be in your dirty, worn down clothes if it weren’t for him. 

You creak the door open to find Joel and thank him again for hosting you, only to see him waiting right outside in the hall. You nearly jump, your face completely giving away your tense surprise.

“Jus’ wanted to make sure you got to bed alright,” he says gently, explaining himself. 

“Oh…” You bite your lip. “I, uh, I think I’m all set. Thank you again, Joel, really, for everything.”

His smile brightens as much as you’ve seen it and his eyes look much kinder as he nods, a dip of his head. His hand reaches forward and takes yours through the frame of the door and squeezes it. You freeze at the sudden touch, his hand so warm and rough, calloused fingertips grazing over the softer skin of your hands. It sends your entire body into a fuzzy flash of heat for just a moment before it dissipates. He squeezes once more, thumb swiping gently over the back of your hand before he releases it. Your lips sit parted in shock, eyes a little wider and hand starting to tremble a little. 

“Anytime,” Joel replies simply, his face falling before he turns to walk away, leaving you standing breathless for several moments before clicking the bedroom door shut behind you. 

You jolt out of your sleep, a gasp of breath catching in your throat and dying out as you go to yell, finding your mouth tightly clasped by a large, warm palm pressing in.

“Shh, shh,” the voice comes, right near your right ear. You shudder involuntarily from the hot breath fanning on such a sensitive spot  and try to yell again, letting it die out as a whimper against the skin pressing on your mouth.

“Shh, it’s alright. I got you,” Joel coos, his voice coming out hoarse. “No yellin’.”

You squirm helplessly against his hold, realizing another arm is draped across your abdomen, holding you in place. Your body exhausts quickly, still half asleep as you feel your struggle die out. Joel’s hand across your mouth loosens slowly, relieving the pressure.

“You were havin’ a nightmare, darlin’. Shh… c’mon now…” His hand that had been against your lips ghosts up to your head, landing in gentle strokes against your hair. You blink a few times, heavy breaths through your nostrils now as you try to steady your mind and body. Your chest struggles against his heavy arm as it heaves, your body fully taut and mind trying to play catch up.

“W-what…” you murmur groggily, laying stiffly as Joel holds your waist, fingers brushing against your curves, pressing you close as his other hand still works tender strokes along your hair.

“Oh, sweetheart, glad I heard you, hm?” he practically whispers, his face nuzzling close to the skin right under your ear. You feel the tickle of his breath and facial fair, prickly and rough against such delicate skin. You squirm gently, trying to signal that everything is too tight, too much, too… confusing. Joel is lost in his own world, absorbed in the softness of the places he begins to touch, hand grazing from your waist to your bare arms, fingertips exploring hungrily under the guise of being caring. 

All he’d needed, alone and laying awake tonight, his body burning and resolve thin, was a simple touch. A chance to show you all that you needed, all he could provide for you. Only to help you, to take care of someone who couldn’t care for herself. You’d proved that much to him - you needed his guidance, his protection, his experience.

“What’re you…”

“Jus’ comforting you, darlin’. C’mon now,” he whispers, never once pulling back or stopping the exploring he’s doing with his hands. 

He runs through his list of reasons to convince himself why everything he’s doing is perfectly necessary before losing sight of all of it entirely when he strikes that sliver of bare skin where your tee shirt has hiked up a bit off your waist, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. His hand travels a bit higher, pushing the shirt up and grazing famished fingers across your ribcage and stomach. A small groan ripples across his chest, the vibration felt by where your body meets his. He surprises you next by tugging your shirt back down, covering the bare skin before returning his hand to your hip, pulling you closer. He’s a wall of pure mass, muscle underneath his soft belly and chest, a man who’s strong but still showing a bit of his age. You nearly whimper and shake, feeling a sickly heat coursing through your veins now.

“Mmm…” he mumbles in your ear, your own voice caught in a trap of fear lodged right in your throat. Equally afraid of the way you don’t know how this night is about to end and that you’re not sure you mind where it’s going. You’ve never understood men or their intentions, and never had anyone bother to teach you, no worked up teenage boys offer to show you when you were at that age. No, you were left to guess, giggled at by other girls when you couldn’t pick up on their meanings as they discussed their own secret rendezvous. This had to be everything they talked about, didn’t it? The way you could feel heat and energy practically pulsating off of Joel’s body, his noises anything but natural sounding as he hummed little groans in your ear.

“Y’just needed someone, sweetheart. Y’need someone to take care of you, don’t you?” he finally says, fingers still running their way across your hair, nails scratching against your scalp. You whimper quietly at the feel of it, how damn good it all feels. You don’t move, don’t speak as he goes on.

“Need a man like me, darlin’, y’do. I can see it - need me to take care of everything…” He mumbles similar sentiments repeatedly in your ear before bringing his lips right to your neck, just letting them graze, the wet but chapped skin of his lips pressing in gently on your pulse point. You try not to gasp, the feeling as pleasing as it is terrifying, finding yourself gripping the sheet tighter to try not to give yourself away, give him any kind of response. 

“Don’t you, honey? Need me to take care of you?” He sounds a little more desperate now, needy for the answer he’s searching for from you.

He’s broken you down to the point you feel tears stinging at your eyes, the long awaited emotional release you’ve needed sitting right there on the precipice, a small crack waiting to fully rupture. You can’t be sure if you nod, just imperceptibly, you think, but Joel’s body language relaxes against you as he leans his entire chest and torso into you even more, giving you a squeeze. You know then that he got his answer, just what he was looking for. You let the tears slip out, rolling down your cheeks, onto the pillow on one side, likely falling right onto Joel’s face or in his hair on the other. He seems to barely notice, just swiping them quickly off your cheeks before resuming his position wrapping himself tightly around you.

“Good, sweetheart… good girl, I got you…” 

You hear his breathing start to even out shortly after, steady rise and fall of his chest against your body, and you realize he’s dozed off. Like he got what he wanted and decided he could rest now. Your entire body relaxes, a careful breath whooshing out that you hadn’t even been aware you were holding in. His hand is still tangled in your hair, other one possessively on your hip, giving you absolutely no room to move. You’re not sure you want to anymore, anyways, never having had such strength covering you, cloaking you from all of the dark, sinister things that the nighttime holds for you.

If you’re going insane, feeling safe with this man who forced his way around your body tonight, then so be it. Why shouldn’t you let yourself feel safe for once? Let yourself feel less of that burden, turn it over to Joel? Your own turning wheel of thoughts starts to scare you, the little voice in the back of your head telling you what you already know and have been trying to ignore. The one little thing that you immediately put your finger on but were too scared afterwards to lift it back up and observe it closer.

You weren’t having a nightmare, no, not at all. You knew when you woke from one, as sure as the god damned sky was blue and the grass was green. It wasn’t a foreign concept to you by any means after what you’d been through in your life. And tonight… tonight hadn’t been one of those nights. 

dividers by @/saradika!

thank you @jupiter-soups and @huffle-punk for always beta-ing my shit and talking inspo with me. love you to the moon and back &lt;3

[satellitespinner]

“inexperienced!reader” and its someone just writing straight AGEPLAY. you cannot sit here and say that youre writing an innocent reader and then write them to have the characteristics of a six year old, a literal six year old. i see this very often is fics involving religious themes and theyre almost always portraying the reader in a very uncomfortable light. its absolutely disgusting for some 20 something year old grown woman to sit on this app and write about someone with the emotional maturity of a child get fucked by a video game character.

i remember there was an issue with an author on here a few years ago with said issue, like making the reader not know the name to her own body parts, and/or not knowing what sex is. im telling you now - everyone above the age of 12 knows what a vagina is, and has concepts of what they think sex is. so theres absolutely NO reason to be writing that shit. you should not be writing smut about minors. especially if you are over the age of 18, which MOST of the authors on this app are.

no excuses whatsoever..

[naughtyneganjdm]

Christmas in Jackson - Chapter 8

Summary: Joel wakes up in the morning happy that he didn't take off on Y/N after their night together. Addicted to the way that she makes him feel, Joel decides that he wants to spend the rest of the day in bed with her before taking her somewhere special during the night.

Characters: Joel Miller, the reader (OC), etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61159651/chapters/160909797

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, Naked Cuddling, Smut, Unprotected P in V, Rough Sex, Dominant Joel, Dirty Talking Joel, Romantic Joel, etc.

Notes: Most of this chapter is really just smutty. Thanks to those that read this story and for putting up with me! Especially since real life has made it rough to update this like I would like to. If you'd like to read previous chapters, check them out here.

Soft strokes over the back of Joel’s hand gradually pulled him from his sleep. His eyes tiredly fluttered to an open with an instinctive smile tugging at his lips when he realized where he was. Considering how his brain had been playing games with him last night, this morning could have turned out completely different if he didn’t make the right decision. But? He was glad he made the decision that he did. Leaving would have been a horrible choice. Both for him and her.

The way he felt right now was indescribable. There was a warmth inside of him that felt good. A happiness that he never expected to feel again. What had been a dark and burning thought of not being good enough for Y/N was something he was able to overcome with how much he cared for this woman.

What felt good was knowing that she appeared to feel the same way about him. By the way she was tracing her fingertips over his hand, it felt like she was in awe of him. Cherishing the touch, Joel nuzzled his nose in against the back of her neck. Placing a delicate kiss there had her inhaling sharply and he smiled.

“Good mornin’ beautiful,” Joel slurred, cuddling in closer to her. Hooking his fingers with hers, he gave them a firm squeeze. Hearing her breathing was a gift in itself for him. Everything felt right in the world in that moment and he was happy. He’d felt happiness in his life, but he questioned if he’d ever felt it this strongly towards someone in a romantic way. “You feeling okay?”

“Better than okay,” she announced, bringing his hand up to place a delicate kiss over the back of it. Humming out, Joel lifted enough to kiss at the side of her face causing her to smile. The sight of that took his breath away. How his body reacted to just the sight of her smile blew him away. “How about you?”

“I feel good,” he was honest, closing his eyes again when he got comfortable behind her. Right now? He had no interest in getting up because he liked the way that this felt way too much. Getting to cuddle her was something he had no interest in missing out on. In the past, he would have thought this kind of feeling was unrealistic. Now that he was feeling it, he was addicted to it. Never had he experienced such a need to hold and touch someone. To be near them.

“So does that mean you liked things last night?” she wondered, her curiosity getting the best of her when she looked over her shoulder. A smirk tugged at Joel’s lips with his eyes fluttering to a slow open. Arching his eyebrow at her had a chill flooding throughout her body.

“Yes, very much so,” he assured her, pulling her in closer to him so that way they were pressed up against one another. Truthfully? He was surprised she even had to ask him that. Throughout their interactions she had been pretty confident that she was good at sex. Now she seemed anxious with him, but he found it charming. “It was me that I was worried about. I worried things wouldn’t be good enough for you. I didn’t know if I would last long enough.”

“Everything was perfect for me,” she assured him, getting the most delicious moan from him when she rubbed her bottom in against his groin. Closing her eyes, she liked the warmth that pressed in over the side of her neck with Joel burying his nose there. Unhurriedly, she rolled her hips with the sensation of Joel’s body growing rigid against her. Knowing that she could have this kind of effect on his body drove her crazy with desire. Small, muted moans were vibrating against the side of her neck with one of Joel’s hands lowering to grasp firmly at her hips. With how hard he was holding onto her, she felt like she was his and she liked it. “I think I missed having you inside of me.”

“Well, we should fix that problem then,” Joel grunted, adjusting her body the way he needed it, pushing at her hip to angle her forward. Caressing down over her thigh with his rough fingertips, she looked back over her shoulder with her eyes connecting with his. Leaning in just enough to steal a quick kiss from her had her panting against his mouth. This was so good that sometimes he didn’t know whether to believe it was real or not. Dragging his mouth away from hers, Joel licked his lips and tipped his head to look down between them. Pushing his hand beneath the blanket, he curled his fingers around the shaft of his erection. Stroking at his body, he made sure that he was fully prepared for her before pressing his hips forward. Teasing the tip of his cock through her sensitive folds had her purring out and it made him smile. A slow drag up and then down had her hips rocking back toward his eager for him to enter her. Repeating the motion several times provoked her breathing to grow louder. Just from this alone had her incredibly wet which turned him on even more. She yearned for him just as much as he did her. Keeping his eyes locked on their bodies, he led the swollen tip to her entrance and unhurriedly sank into her. Together they moaned out in unison causing a fire to flood throughout his veins. Having the tight walls of her body enveloping his cock felt incredible and he knew he could easily lose himself inside of her if he didn’t focus. It felt that good. Bottoming out had her crying out, her hand dropping down to grasp at his thigh drawing out a raspy moan from him that she loved to hear. In that moment, he stayed stagnant wanting her to feel all of him. Lifting his hand, he grasped at her chin keeping a firm hold of it which elicited a moan from her that drove him wild. “Is this what your pussy wanted? My big cock filling it?”

“Yes,” she whimpered, her eyes slamming shut and her hips shaking with the way things felt. Releasing her chin, Joel palmed at her breast. Teasing the flesh, he stroked the tip of his index finger in circular motions around her nipple causing it to harden into a tight bud. Sucking in a sharp breath of air, he allowed his touch to continue down over her abdomen until his hand reached between her thighs. As soon as his rough fingertips connected with her sensitive clit, it had her crying out. The lack of movement ached, but in the best of ways. Joel’s thick cock was stretching her and filling her in ways that made her feel on top of the world “You feel so fucking good.”

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you,” Joel slurred against the side of her neck, the roughness of his short beard scratching at her flesh sending chills throughout her body. The circular motion of his fingers over her sensitive bundle of nerves had her arching up toward his caress drawing only a tiny bit of his cock to pull from her. “Is it bad I want to be like this forever? Have you full of my cock?”

“No,” she whined, her hand reaching down to curl her fingers around Joel’s wrist while he continued to touch her. “I love the way this feels too.”

“Do you like the way my big cock fills you right up?” Joel growled against her ear having her trembling back against him. Hearing him talking dirty to her had chills flooding throughout her body. There was a darkness to his tone when he said it and she liked it. She liked it a lot. Another whimper escaped her with him nibbling at her earlobe. “Your tight little pussy feels so good around me.”

God, she was a fucking mess. He had her in the palm of his hand and he knew it. By the amused rumble of a sound she released, she knew she was wrapped around his finger. By now she was a panting mess. Releasing his wrist, she instead grasped firmly at his hip causing him to snicker against the side of her neck, “Please.”

“Please what?” Joel’s palm slid up from between her thighs, up over her abdomen and between the valley of her breasts. Grasping faintly at her face, Joel started leaving wet kisses over her jawline with her crying out again. He knew what she was asking from him, but he was drawing things out. Enjoying the way she longed for this.

“Please move,” she begged of him, cooing out when he gave her what she wanted. Unhurriedly pulling his hips back, Joel growled against her flesh when he pushed forward. Taking his time rolling his hips behind her had soft smacking sounds filling the air with every thrust he made. Tiny winces escaped her with every deep plunge his manhood made inside of her warmth. Digging her fingertips into his thigh, she sucked in a sharp breath of air and closed her eyes tightly. Everything felt amazing. Each thrust was drawn out, and, in this position? She could feel every ridge of Joel’s cock inside of her. With his movements, he was hitting just the right spots having her a shaking mess. “Joel.”

“I want you to be mine,” he claimed, nipping at her jaw. The grasp he had on her face grew stronger and she licked her lips. Hearing that was thrilling. Gradually, his thrusts started to grow both in strength and speed drawing out the most delicious sounds from her. Moaning against her flesh had her purring out and he found himself lost inside of her. “And more than anything I want to be yours.”

“I want that too,” she admitted, doing her best to rock her hips back against him meeting his thrusts. That was true. Being with Joel was a feeling she was not used to, but she yearned for it. No one had this kind of effect on her. And she wanted more of it. Having him holding onto her like he was made her feel like she was his. And he was having his way with her in the best way possible. Honestly? She didn’t want this to end. Purring out, she tipped her head back when Joel’s hand returned between her thighs. The contact his fingers made with her clitoris drew out a cry that had him growling once more against the side of her neck. Putting a decent amount of pressure into his caress over her sensitive bundle of nerves had her breathing growing broken. They weren’t being quiet. For a short amount of time he tried to remember if any of the guests they had at the inn were near her room, but after a while he realized that he didn’t care. Being inside of her and having her reacting to things the way she was felt way too good. And more than anything he loved getting her to cry and pant out his name. “Please don’t stop.”

“Yes ma’am,” Joel continued his thrusts from behind her, the sounds of his hips smacking up against her bottom getting louder. The sounds of her pleasure grew more desperate. Bucking harder up against her, he took notice of the way her body was shaking. How her hips eagerly rocked between his thrusts and his fingertips circling at her clit. How her body was reacting, he knew that she was close to an orgasm. Keeping up with the pace that he had set, Joel hummed when her tight walls started to contract around his cock. And there was the best gift he could have asked for. Hearing her crying out his name over and over when he brought her to that moment of euphoria. There she was, a trembling mess in his arms and she was entirely his. Thrusting forward once more, Joel buried himself deeply into her and stayed still wanting to experience the way her walls flexed around his erection throughout her orgasm. Giving her time, Joel smiled and nuzzled his nose in against the side of her neck. “Roll onto your stomach.”

Doing as she was instructed, she shakily rolled onto her stomach and whined with the way Joel’s manhood pulled from her body. Getting into position, she cuddled her head in against the pillows. Everything felt like it was spinning. She could feel her heart hammering away inside of her chest. There was an ache at her core and her hips were still somewhat tremoring. The empty feeling she was left with had her yearning for more. Purring out, she was happy when Joel started to crawl in over her. Tender kisses covered her right shoulder with him lowering down in over her. Chills flooded her with the warmth of his body over hers. Arching her hips, she desperately wanted him back inside of her and it had an amused rumble escaping Joel’s throat. Reaching between them, Joel placed the tip of his cock at her entrance and sank back into her. Burying his nose in against the side of her neck, he let out a deep raspy moan with how good it felt. Adjusting his body, his hands covered hers with their fingers hooking together.

Setting a steady pace with his thrusts, Joel covered the side of her neck and shoulders with kisses. Closing her eyes, she loved having the weight of him over her. It was easy to feel every part of him with him thrusting inside of her this way. And she rewarded him with the sounds of her crying out his name.

“You feel so good,” Joel’s deep southern drawl was raspy, his words vibrating against her cheek. Turning just enough, she managed to bring their lips together in a longing kiss that had Joel humming out.

“Harder,” she begged against his lips whimpering when he delivered what she requested. The smacking sounds increased with his hips bucking up against her bottom. The power of his movements had the bed slightly smacking up against the wall. Winces were escaping his throat and his fingers squeezed tighter around hers. “Yes, that’s it.”

Taking that as encouragement, Joel’s movements grew stronger with her body trembling beneath him. Squeezing tightly to Joel’s fingers, she felt a fire growing in the pit of her stomach and she whined, “Joel...”

There was a rushing flooding to her head. Squeezing her eyes shut, she knew that she was a mess. The areas that the tip of his cock were repeatedly hitting felt amazing but at the same time had her nervous. Trying to pull her hips up and away only had Joel following her movements. Burying her head further into the pillow, she pulled her hips up and away from Joel with a pitiful sound. How hard she was shaking and the way that her heartbeat was so loud inside of her head shocked her. Joel was smiling against the side of her neck, his groans loud as he pampered her flesh with tiny kisses. Looking down between them Joel let out a pleased sound with her body trembling beneath him.

“Fuck, I am so sorry,” she panted with Joel snickering against the side of her neck. Reaching down, his fingers teased through her sensitive folds, caressing at her already shaking body.

“For squirting? Please don’t apologize for that,” Joel hummed, rolling her onto her back. With a half smirk, Joel shook his head when their eyes connected. “I reckon I’m the furthest thing from offended.”

“You’re arrogant,” she huffed out, whimpering with Joel caressing his thumb in over the inside of her thigh. “But it looks good on you.”

“By the way you just apologized to me, you’re not used to squirting,” Joel concluded, licking his lips. His loud breathing had his chest rising and falling heavily. A wicked smirk tugged at his features and it had her heart skipping a beat. God, he was so hot. And with the way his messy hair was wet, she couldn’t get enough of him. “Of course that would make me arrogant. I like that I can make you feel good.”

Adjusting her body, Joel pushed her legs up so they were resting over his arms when he balanced his hands on the bed. Nodding between them, he licked his lips once more and sighed, “Put me back inside of you.”

Following his instructions, she gave him a nod. Reaching down, she curled her fingers around Joel’s girthy cock and let out a pant. The sound that Joel made when she touched him was so attractive. Leading the swollen tip back between her folds had him firmly smacking up against her when he filled her completely. The thrust had her breasts bouncing upward with the movement and her cry filled the room. Right now, his movements were rough and harder causing her to drop her hands down to grasp at his wrists. Eager to hold onto something. Every thrust felt incredible and she knew this was dirty, but she liked it. Last night, things were more about the two of them connecting. Right now? This was about sex. But? She wasn’t complaining. In fact, this felt incredible. For so long, she was used to men that wanted her to be in charge of things. It was nice having Joel take control. This felt amazing and it was nice the things that Joel was capable of making her feel.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you were big,” she lifted her head to watch the deep plunges his cock made inside of her repeatedly. Again, how couldn’t he be arrogant with the things that she was saying and the way her body was reacting to him? Pressing his forehead to hers, Joel snickered with how tightly she was clinging to him. “God.”

“I’m going to come,” he announced with a deep, raspy moan. Tipping his head back, his jaw flexed and the veins in his neck became more prominent. Lifting up just enough, she brought their lips together in a hungry kiss that took both of their breaths away. Keeping up with his thrusts, Joel groaned out with his testicles tightening up. Pumping her full of his cum, he continued to pound into her throughout his orgasm. Allowing her legs to drop down, Joel nipped at her bottom lip with her right arm hooking around his shoulders to keep him close. With his hips coming to a falter, Joel gave one final thrust before lowering in over her. Cuddling in over her, he loved the way she still stroked at his shoulders and wanted him near. “I don’t want to leave your tight little pussy.”

“Then don’t,” she panted against his flesh, clinging tightly to him. They were both shaking with their breathing broken. Whimpering out, she liked the way it felt with Joel’s cock throbbing and twitching inside of her. Instead of moving, he did what she said allowing himself to grow soft inside of her. Kissing at her jawline, he hummed with how amazing everything felt.

“I have to call into work. I’ll tell them the snow made it impossible for me to leave,” Joel slurred, his head lifting enough to lock eyes with her. “If you’re okay with it, I’d like to spend all day with you today. In bed…”

“Having sex?” she inquired with Joel smirking as she palmed in over the side of his face. Brushing his damp hair out of his eyes drew forth a smile from him that took her breath away. “I’m not going to tell you no.”

“Sex is part of it, but I want us to be together right now,” he whispered, kissing in over the center of her palm. “I just want to be with you as much as I possibly can. I want to take advantage of the way you make me feel.”

“How do I make you feel?” she wondered, desperate to hear his thoughts since he was originally so hell bent on hiding himself from her. Everything about this man drove her wild with desire for him.

“Happy. Warm,” he gave short answers at first, considering what he wanted to tell her. Knowing that she brought him happiness was a good thing. Especially since she knew Joel was not the kind of person he was displaying himself to be with her right now normally. “You make me feel like I’m still meant to be here and I haven’t felt that way in a very long time. I don’t feel like an emotionless robot with you. As I said before, you feel like home. And being with you? It just feels right.”

“Careful Joel Miller,” she whispered, brushing his hair back over his ear. Lifting up, she teased her lips in against his making him smile. “You might make me believe that there is more to you than you want me to see.”

“I want you to see it,” Joel countered, shaking his head and peppering tender kisses against her lips. “I know this is fast and I reckon people would think we were crazy, but I really like you. More than I should. And I don’t want to picture a life where I don’t have you near. Now that I have you, I don’t wanna let you go.”

“I feel the same way,” she assured him, her thumb tracing over his jawline through his facial hair having his brown eyes growing hopeful. “I don’t care what other people think though. And I think it’s safe to say that you don’t either.”

“Yeah,” Joel snickered, his nose wrinkling with him leaning into her touch. Suddenly, he thought about last night and what he had almost done. Leaving would have been the biggest mistake he could have ever made right now. “I need to tell you something.”

Giving him her full attention, she continued to stroke her fingers through his hair and he liked it, “After you fell asleep last night, I thought about leaving,” Joel was honest, his face scrunching up in disappointment with his actions, “But before you think it has anything to do with you, it doesn’t. I just don’t think I’m good enough for you. And I’m worried I’m going to ruin things for you.”

“That’s something we’re going to have to work on,” she hushed him realizing that he was very upset with himself. “Because you are good enough for me. And you’re not going to ruin things for me because for the first time in a long time, I’m happy. You bring out something in me that hasn’t been there in a very long time.”

“That sounds familiar,” Joel noted, nuzzling his nose in against hers wincing when he pulled his hips away from her and laid down in beside her. Staying close to her, Joel hooked his fingers with hers and kissed at her shoulder. “I bet you didn’t think the first time you saw me that we’d be like this after a few days, huh?”

“The first time I saw you I thought you were incredibly hot,” she admitted provoking a snort from Joel with him tipping his head to stare out at her. That wasn’t a lie. “I was attracted to you immediately. I thought it was just me being crazy after getting off that plane. When I saw you, I didn’t immediately regret coming here because at least you were nice to look at. And then when I was still attracted to you even after you turned out to be such a dick that night? Well, I thought I completely lost it.”

“I’m sorry,” Joel apologized nuzzling his nose in against the side of her neck getting her to giggle and turn in closer to him. “I’m not very good with new people and I know that.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” she hushed him, her fingers reaching out to brush against the side of his face. “Am I the first guest you’ve slept with?”

“You’re the first person I’ve slept with since I moved into town,” Joel confessed, sucking in a sharp breath of air. The expression she gave him made him nod and he shrugged his shoulders. That was probably bad to admit, but he didn’t lie to her when he told her that it had been a very long time since he had been with someone. “Don’t get me wrong, in my past I was wild, but here…?”

“Wow,” she was shocked to hear that and by the way Joel’s face was red she knew that he was embarrassed. Just from the two times that they had slept together, she would have never pictured that. “You don’t have sex like someone who hasn’t had it in years.”

“Well, I mean I jerk off,” Joel reasoned with her getting her to laugh before pressing a kiss against the center of his chest. “So I guess I built up a good endurance for things?”

“That’s good to know,” she teased him, patting the center of his chest playfully.

“How long have you been broken up from your boyfriend?” he questioned, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat when he thought about her life outside of Jackson.

“It’s been a few months,” she answered him cuddling in closer to him while they rest together at the center of the bed. “I don’t really know what I saw in him to be honest with you. I think I was just sick of being lonely so I accepted the first person that gave me attention when he was really just abusing his power at the hospital. We had to keep our relationship hidden even though we were together a lot. I think I just liked the attention I got from him because it made me feel special.”

“Just because he was a dickhead doesn’t mean you weren’t special,” Joel reminded her, wrapping her up in his arms and getting comfortable again beneath her. Thinking about something for a moment, Joel licked his lips and hummed. “Do I have a bigger dick than he did?”

“You have a bigger dick than most of the people I’ve been with,” she responded with a laugh getting a kick out of the fact Joel seemed proud of that. The expression over his face gave it away that he liked hearing her say that. “It’s interesting how some of the most reserved men have the biggest dicks, while some of the most arrogant aren’t that impressive.”

They both laughed and took a moment of silence for them to enjoy each other just for a little while. By the time that he spoke up again they were both pretty comfortable in bed.

“I was surprised that you weren’t lying about the whole blowjob thing you know,” Joel blurt out, stroking his fingers down over her shoulders. It made her laugh out loud, not expecting that to be the first thing he said again to start their conversation back up. “I made you stop last night because I knew if I didn’t I was gonna erupt and then this whole interaction would be cut short.”

“I’m glad you’ve enjoyed things,” she responded with a small yawn, growing more relaxed in his arms. “Tell me facts about you that won’t make you uncomfortable. Like what are some of your favorite things? What do you dislike?”

“Uhm,” Joel thought for a moment about what to tell her, looking down and finding himself in awe of her with the way she was laying in over his chest. “Well, food wise I’m not the biggest fan of pancakes. Nor do I really like orange juice. But I really like coffee. And usually I like it black. The stronger the better.”

“I picked up on the coffee love,” she traced her fingertips over the lengths of his chest drawing tiny shapes over his flesh. “The black coffee love I do have to question because I prefer having lots of flavor to drown out the taste of it.”

“That ruins it,” Joel grumbled under his breath, amused with the expression that she gave him. Thinking again, Joel tried to come up with something to say when he shrugged his shoulders. “I like really cheesy action flicks. The cheesier the better.”

“Oh?” her eyebrow arched up as she lifted her head slightly to meet his eyes in a stare. “You see, that surprises me because you had on the Christmas movie channel when we were at your home.”

“Eh, I put that on in the background sometimes when I’m working around the house,” he stated with a scoff, waving his free hand about. “Christmas movies used to be a big thing when I was younger in my family. It’s hard to let go of that.”

Getting him to talk about things he liked in terms of music and random things was her way of getting to know Joel better. Halfway through them talking, Joel did grab his cell phone to call in to work to say he wouldn’t be able to make it. After a while she found herself laying in his arms thinking about things.

“What happens if Tommy realizes that you are not at home?” she pushed getting Joel to smile when she palmed across the lengths of his chest.

“I’m just here to be here sometimes,” Joel informed her, his breathing growing louder when she placed a kiss over the center of his chest. “I’m good at fixing things, but everyone else is better at the other stuff. I have an endless knowledge about construction. Not running an inn.”

“Fair enough,” she huffed, pressing in closer to him when she felt somewhat cold. Joel’s arm dropped further down her body squeezing firmly around her and it made her smile. Thinking about this morning and last night made her swallow down hard. “Just so you know, I don’t usually do this whole thing.”

“What?” Joel didn’t know what she was referring to.

“Unprotected sex with a stranger,” she blurt out with Joel nodding his head about. “I mean, you’re not a stranger, but…”

“I get it,” Joel hushed her, tapping his fingers against her hip. Using his other hand, he curled his fingers in underneath her chin to get her to tip her head back to stare up at him. “I haven’t had sex in years. I already told you that. And you already told me that you were healthy. I reckon its mostly my fault for not having condoms, but I haven’t had condoms in a very long time because I didn’t expect to have sex with someone. I guess I assumed that you were on birth control since you wanted me to…”

“I am,” she interrupted him, looking up at him with big eyes when he considered the idea that he had come inside of her twice already. “Thinking back on it, I don’t think I’ve had unprotected sex with anyone. I’ve done things differently with you. I trust you.”

“Oh,” Joel was surprised to hear that, taking in a sharp breath of air when a sense of arrogance flooded through him. Instead of being uncomfortable with the discussion, he seemed to actually like the idea of what she was saying. “So did you like me pumping you full of my come?”

“Very much,” she didn’t even take time to consider it, her face growing hot with her confession. “It makes me feel like I’m yours. Like I belong to you and feeling your cock throbbing inside of me…it feels phenomenal. I liked it a lot.”

“You want some more?” he growled with his palm extending down over her bottom to give it a firm squeeze. “I think he’s ready for another round if you are.”

“Hmmm…” she bit down on her bottom lip and then took her time to crawl in over Joel again getting a wicked smirk to tug at his features. “I’ll take as much as I can get of it today.”

----

Giggling, Y/N couldn’t help but laugh with Joel playfully teasing kisses over the side of her neck. They were underneath the covers with Joel laying over her and their legs tangled together. It felt nice with the way things were. Joel wasn’t kidding when he told her that he wanted to spend all day in bed with her. They mostly just spend their time either talking, cuddling or having sex. More than they probably should have, but both of them were addicted to the way that it felt.

“I like your hands,” she announced, lifting Joel’s hand to gaze upon it with Joel kissing down over her jawline and toward her neck. “Then again? I think I like everything about you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Joel snickered against her flesh, drawing his head back enough to look down upon her with a longing stare. “You’re easy to like.”

“You may be the first person to tell me that,” she smiled when Joel kissed at the back of her hand and nestled his cheek in against it.

“And you may be the only person ever in my life to tell me that you like everything about me. Because if you haven’t noticed, I can be an intimidating asshole,” Joel pointed out with a smirk, adjusting his body weight with her tracing over his face. “I’ve mastered the resting bitch face look.”

“I think it’s part of your charm,” she dragged her thumb out across his full bottom lip, sucking in a sharp breath of air with Joel pressing a tender kiss against the pad of her thumb. “I do enjoy your laughter and your smile though. You have the cutest dimples.”

“It’s always the dimples that warm people up to me,” Joel shook his head, dropping down to press kisses over her lips again. Hearing the sound of a knock on the door, Joel pulled back the covers and looked toward the other room where the knock came from. “That’s probably the pizza.”

Cautiously moving from over her, Joel stood up from the bed and headed for the other room, stopping when she called out to him. Turning to face her, she pointed down and it made him laugh, “Joel, you’re naked.”

“And?” Joel breathed out, with her face flushing over.

“You’re going to give someone a heart attack if they see you naked. Especially since the person works in the same place as you since you ordered it from the bar here,” she reminded him getting him to roll his eyes and reach for one of the pillows. “Joel!”

“The stuff is covered,” Joel kept his hand firmly over the pillow that was hiding his naked body. Heading for the door, Joel was quick to pull it open seeing the eyes of the person before him growing wide when they realized his state of undress. Pointing toward the pizza, Joel held his hand out and waited for them. “I’ll take the pizza now.”

“Of course Mr. Miller, I’m sorry,” the man was quick to hand Joel over the pizza box, dropping his head down with color flooding into his face. “They just charged the card you have on record, so you don’t have to worry about anything.”

“Thank you,” Joel went to step back, letting out a surprised sound when Y/N moved in beside him. Instead of being naked like him, she had grabbed his plaid shirt and had only buttoned up a few of the buttons. Handing out some money, Joel tipped his head to the side with his eyes narrowing. “What are you doing?”

“You forgot the tip,” she held out the money and the man nervously shook his head at the idea of getting a tip. “Trust me, you deserve this.”

“Thank you ma’am,” the man accepted the tip and was quick to walk away leaving the two of them alone.

Closing the door, she gave Joel a small glare and grabbed the pizza from him as she headed back toward the bedroom. Throwing his hands up in the air, Joel tossed the pillow back onto the bed when he entered the room.

“I don’t see what the big deal was, it’s not like I was flashing anyone,” Joel teased, taking a seat in the bed beside her. Grabbing one of the sheets, Joel pulled it in over his lap and got comfortable by resting his back against the headboard.

“That’s how that person is going to picture you from here on out and he’s probably going to gossip. Since that’s a big thing here in this town,” she insisted, throwing open the lid of the pizza box when she set it in the middle of the bed. Swiftly, Joel leaned in to grab a piece for himself and tipped his head back to dramatically take the piece into his mouth. With a smirk, she grabbed one for herself with Joel shrugging his shoulders.

“Let them,” Joel spoke with a mouthful, visibly not worried about what anyone would think. “I already told that one guy at the bar that you were mine. This just proves that we have sex and we get hungry after having sex. No big deal really.”

“Right,” she was amused that he was so nonchalant about things because when she first met him, Joel seemed like a very private person that wouldn’t be okay with that kind of stuff. Joel finished off his first piece of pizza pretty fast before reaching for another. “I feel like someone could easily live here for a while. You have so much in one place.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Joel agreed with her dropping his head back while he chewed. “We do well. People seem to like it here. It’s an easy job and I don’t have to drive far for work. So I can’t complain really. This pizza isn’t the best pizza in town, but it’s convenient.”

“Do you know what time it is?” she looked around, her eyes falling to a clock. When she realized it was the evening already, she let out an amused sound. “We really did spend all day in bed.”

“Well, not all day,” Joel countered, reaching for the tissues that were on her nightstand to pull out one to wipe his hands off. “I was actually thinking about that. While the idea of spending all day in bed with you sounds nice, I was wondering if you would like to take a journey with me. There’s something they do here at night that I think you would really like.”

“My body could use the break,” she admitted knowing that she was worn out after all they had done. Really, she was surprised she didn’t get a nap in there somewhere because she was tired after everything. “What were you thinking?”

“It’s a surprise,” he insisted, folding his arms out in front of his bare chest. “I figure we’ll finish up with the pizza, get a shower in and then I can drive you over there. So you don’t have to walk.”

“Such a gentleman,” she snickered getting him to chuckle at her response before leaning in to pepper a few more kisses against her lips. “I just look forward to any time that I get to spend with you.”

“Then we should take advantage of that,” he hummed against her lips, nuzzling his nose tenderly in against hers.

“I think we’ve taken advantage of a lot of things already today,” she noted, her words vibrating against his bottom lip eliciting a groan to fall from him with the way it felt. Motioning her to wait a second, Joel raised his finger and lifted up just enough to push aside one of the blinds to look down below at the town. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure that they eventually got to the streets,” he answered with a grunt, lowering back down in the bed beside her. After the storm last night, he knew that most of the time they were quick to plow the snow, but sometimes people got lazy. Thankfully? Since he had something planned, he was happy to see that they actually eventually plowed the snow. “My plans wouldn’t be very successful if we weren’t able to use my truck to drive where I need us to go.”

“About that,” she spoke up, closing up the box of pizza after they were done. Setting it beside the bed, she turned onto her arm and placed her hand in over the center of Joel’s chest. “Are you going to get in trouble with people finding out you were here this whole time?”

“I’m the owner,” Joel reminded her with a wrinkle of his nose, his hand reaching up to cover hers. “Tommy is kinda used to me showing up whenever I want anyways. Plus? If he knew that we had sex, I would get away with it. He’d be excited.”

“Your brother is a very confusing person,” she chuckled at the thought of what he said about Tommy realizing that he was right. “I thought he was this very sweet, innocent man and he’s got a mouth on him”

“I told you that people are biased because he is nice to them. If you would have known Tommy when he was younger, he was a smoking, foul mouthed little boy,” Joel informed her, shaking his head when he thought back on their past together. “He was always smoking in places he shouldn’t have been so I was constantly yelling at him to put it out. Tommy has these people believing that he is the good boy when he was always the chaotic one. It wasn’t until Maria that he calmed the hell down.”

“No kidding,” she was starting to learn that Tommy was surprising her more than Joel in terms of the people that they were.

“Oh yeah. Do you know how often I was bailing his ass out of jail in Texas? The boy was always in trouble. Getting into bar fights and calling me early in the AM to bail him out so he didn’t get stuck all weekend. Tommy was a mess,” Joel recalled what his little brother was like, grunting something under his breath. “I was really worried about him when we separated.”

“Why did he go one way and you went the other?” she inquired, noticing that was a question where Joel was uncomfortable again. “It seems like you felt responsible for him, so when you said you went to Boston and he continued to travel, I was surprised to hear that.”

“Something happened that put some tension between us,” Joel swallowed down hard, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat as he spoke. It looked like he was deeply considering what to say next as he shook his head. “Something big happened in our lives. We both tried to deal with it for a year or so. I was miserable, he was trying to help me, but he was failing. I got us in some trouble that we were both lucky to get out of and I think he was mad at me for letting it happen. So he ran away from me and I let him.”

“You two seem okay now,” she only mentioned what she knew because she had promised not to push Joel too far when it came to his past.

“We do our best. There are some days where we want to kill one another, but we had a talk about the past,” he explained with a nervousness in the way that he spoke, “Just once though. But we had an understanding about things. We just try to avoid bringing it up because it’s something neither one of us wanted to approach. We don’t want to live in the past and talk about it all the time.”

“And here I was spilling my guts out to you and your family,” she felt silly that she had opened up so much to Joel and his family about her past. “It probably made both you and Tommy very uncomfortable with me just unloading all of my past woes on you both.”

“Now, I wouldn’t go that far,” Joel hushed her trying to get her to stop thinking that way. “We handled that perfectly fine because it didn’t have anything to do with us. You needed someone to talk to. We understood that. We just want to forget our pasts. What you needed and what I need are two different things. In terms of our pasts.”

“Fair enough,” she sighed, depositing another loving kiss over the center of Joel’s chest. After a moment of silence, she exhaled loudly and let out an extended breath. “How about we take that shower now? And then we can head out to wherever you want to go?”

“Sounds good,” he agreed, getting up from the bed and following her into the bathroom while she started up the shower.

Sharing a shower with Joel reminded her of what it was like when they were at his home together doing this the last time. There was a lot of touching and affectionate moments between the two of them. There was no sex, but there was a fair amount of intimacy. They just wanted to take care of one another and be near each other. That was probably the best thing about the two of them. How quickly they grew comfortable enough with one another. Nothing was awkward between them. Everything felt right.

They took their time getting ready since the sun wasn’t down just yet, but by the time it was dark Joel led them out of the inn to his truck. At first he let her see where he was driving, but the closer they got to wherever his destination was, he asked her to keep her eyes closed. It was a pretty big deal for him because he wanted it to be a surprise.

Originally, she gave him a hard time about him making her cover her eyes, but she actually thought it was pretty cute. She just didn’t want to embarrass him about how much this actually touched her. Joel didn’t seem like the big surprise type, so this was very charming of him.

Even when they got wherever they were headed, Joel had instructed her to keep her hands where they were. He didn’t want her to cheat. Getting out of the truck first, Joel had come around to help her get out. It was hard moving around with her doing as he asked in keeping her eyes covered. When she was out, he covered her eyes with his hands and helped lead her wherever they were going by walking behind her.

“You are taking this very seriously,” she realized noticing that Joel wasn’t talking much while they walked through the snow. “You should know that I trust you by the way because I wouldn’t normally be okay with this whole scenario. You could be walking me to my death.”

“Obviously you have trust in me after everything today,” Joel whispered in her ear, the warmth of his breath drawing chills down her spine. Kissing at the side of her face made her smile when they came to a stop. Listening carefully, she heard the sound of bells jangling and it wasn’t what she expected. “I’m going to move my hands, okay?”

Staying quiet, she finally opened her eyes when Joel’s hands pulled from over her face allowing her to drop her hands down. Moving in beside her, Joel was watching her with an amused expression seeing the awe that filled her when she saw the horses and the sleigh that was covered in Christmas lights that was before them.

“I thought this was the kind of thing you might like,” he claimed waving his hand about in the direction of the sleigh. “I always thought these kind of things were cheesy, but with how much you like Christmas? I thought you might appreciate it. During the day they do a ride through one of the parks and at night, they do rides through the city.”

“How have I not seen this yet?” she stepped aside to get a look at the horses, getting permission to be able to pet one of them from the person who ran this whole thing. “I would have seen something like this in my time out.”

“They start doing them tomorrow. It’s a special thing they only do closer to Christmas,” Joel explained to her, joining her to pet the horse carefully. “I pulled some strings in order to do this a day early and my friend here agreed.”

“This is beautiful,” she declared, surprised that Joel would even come up with something like this in the first place.

“Not as beautiful as you,” Joel commented having more color flood to her face even beyond what was already there from it being cold out. Extending his hand, Joel motioned her toward the back of the sleigh. “My lady.”

“Oh, kind sir,” she played into it and allowed him to help her onto the sleigh. Getting comfortable in the seat, Joel was quick to follow her in. Wrapping his arm around her, Joel had her cuddling in closer to him to keep her warm while his friend got prepared for the ride. “This is cute. The sleigh? The lights? I don’t think I’ve seen anything like this. They have carriage rides in the city, but nothing like this.”

“You’re cute,” Joel slurred, leaning in to nuzzle his nose in against the side of her face pulling forth a big smile from her. “I thought you might like this. People seem to go pretty crazy for them when they are running.”

As the horses started to move, Joel squeezed his arms tightly around her bringing her closer, “Just sit back and relax as this will be a while.”

“I look forward to it,” she leaned further into Joel, one of her hands hooking with his. What was crazy was how fast all of this happened. Joel went from being someone she could barely stand to someone she never wanted to be away from. Jackson, Wyoming was a mistake. Somewhere she didn’t want to end up, yet here she was. In the arms of the grumpy inn keeper and feeling happier than she had in years. “So tell me Joel, are you usually this romantic?”

“Never,” he grunted, pressing a kiss at her temple when they finally reached town. What was cute was that this was made to feel magical. The glowing of the Christmas lights, the sounds of the bells and how slow the ride was made this feel enchanting. Almost dream like. And she was very thankful to be able to experience it. In her past relationships, no one had worked as hard to do something this nice for her and she was falling even harder for the man who had her wrapped up in his arms. “But you’re special and you deserve it.”

----

Tags: @jdmorganz @carolineesnell @ayumi-wolf @dilfsandmartinis @christinamadsen

@brittmb115 @thegirlwiththemostcake3

[littlcdarlin]

Into Temptation – The Visit

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 (each part can be read as a standalone)

summary: Tommy comes over to scold Joel, and you like his eyes on you a little more than expected. warnings: exhibitionism (not actually — reader just likes the idea and Joel dirty talks about it), big girthy age gap (20 & late 50s), daddy kink, breeding kink, orgasm control (sort of), Joel calls reader "kid" or "kiddo", Joel kind of answers for reader when talking to Tommy, not a depiction of a healthy relationship but not dark enough to be dark!joel, pervert!joel, naive!reader, discussion of free use kink

note: we’re working towards Tommy possibly joining in on some fun, but I’m not decided on whether I’ll go through with that! Let me know what you think and enjoy this piece of utter filth, you freaks <3 I love you

It’s been almost two weeks, and you still haven’t gone home to your place. Joel isn’t sure if there is any documentation about who owns which house in Jackson, but he’d have no problem with Tommy and Maria giving yours away, in fact, the idea of you sleeping in any other bed but his bothers him, even if it’s your very own. Luckily you haven’t made any comments about wanting to go home, more than content with staying with Joel. When he isn’t fucking you, or you’re sleeping, you follow him from room to room like a lost puppy, just as glad not to be lonely anymore as Joel is.

He’s well aware under different circumstances you’d form a less extreme attachment to someone much younger than him, but therapists are hard to come by given that the world has ended, so he tries not to think too much about how severely you seem to need him. You don’t even like showering alone, preferring for Joel to wash your body with his sponge and soap and tenderly massaging your scalp with shampoo. And he obliges every time, if only to pin your wrists against the shower wall and make you come once or twice. It’s efficient, really, no need to clean up afterwards with the shower washing away the sweat and come.

Both of your sleeping schedules have unravelled, because most nights you wake Joel with a throbbing between your legs that needs taking care of, Joel happily fucking you back to sleep with lazy thrusts, plugging you with his cock for the rest of the night, so that none of his spent leaks out of you – he can’t wash the sheets every day, and he’s still trying to get you pregnant.

The mornings are spent with you on top of him, your little body clinging to his, either just lounging around, drifting in and out of sleep, humping his thigh, or bouncing on his cock until he flips you around and fucks you into the mattress.

Afterwards he makes you breakfast, swallows his eggs and guilt about having missed another patrol, watches you drink your coffee, and joins you in the shower to clean up. It’s bliss, a debauched slice of heaven he rationally knows can’t last forever. You’ll snap out of it any day now, and run away screaming when you count the years between the two of you, or Tommy will put a pistol to his head and throw him out of town.

He’s not far off, but when Tommy shows up it’s with a stern expression in place of the pistol. You’re sleeping upstairs, so Joel sighs, and opens the door for Tommy to step in. He knows he can’t avoid him forever, though every part of him screams at him to defend this little bubble the two of you have created.

"Where’s the kid?", Tommy asks, not even pretending his visit is about anything else.

"Upstairs," Joel answers, "she’s sleeping."

Tommy hums.

"Do you…wanna come in?"

"Depends," Tommy answers cooly, "how long are you plannin’ on keeping her here?"

Joel huffs – he knew Tommy wouldn’t get it, would think of this as something it isn’t.

"She can leave any time, Tommy, I’m not keepin’ her anywhere."

Tommy watches him for what feels like a long time, then he sighs, shakes his head, and makes his way into the living room. His eyes drift over your dress, hanging over the back of a dining chair since you prefer Joel’s clothes now anyway.

"I’m gonna say this one last time, Joel, and then it’s outta my hands, alright? She’s too fuckin’ young for you, and you need to send her home if you don’t want this…this thing to ruin both of your lives in Jackson. This isn’t the QZ, and it certainly isn’t the forest. People have a moral compass here, and you’re fucking pushin’ it."

He’s right, of course he’s right. Joel has noticed the glances in his direction when he gets food while you’re sleeping, he hears the whispers at the Tipsy Bison when they see the barely disguised marks he left on your neck and chest. But really, what has he lost because of it? He’s not exactly known for his deep friendships with the other citizens of Jackson, and Tommy’s still speaking to him. Sure, you’ve seen your friends less and less, sitting in Joel’s lap instead of at their table whenever you’re at the bar now, but you’ve told him how little you have in common with them apart from your age. The way he sees it, the both of you are only gaining something.

"She wants this, Tommy, I swear she does. I know it’s…different…extreme, but she’s happy with it. So am I."

"Sure you are," Tommy mutters, but he sighs, and sits down on the couch. "I’m not gonna get through to you, am I?"

Joel walks over to the cabinet in the corner and gets out his bottle of whiskey.

"Look," he says, pouring two glasses, "I didn’t plan this. It just sort of…happened."

"Gettin’ into golf happens like that, Joel, not fucking the barely legal new girl."

They drink the whiskey in silence, and Joel wonders how Tommy would react if you woke up and came downstairs the way you always do, naked except for Joel’s too big shirt, bare feet and legs begging to be warmed up.

"You bein’ safe at least?"

"Jesus, Tommy," Joel groans, feeling like a teenager who brought home his first girlfriend.

"They’ll crucify you if you get her pregnant. Heard the guys at the Bison talking about what they’d do if she was their daughter."

"Well, she ain’t," Joel mutters, remembering your little chants of DaddyDaddyDaddy just last night, as he bounced you up and down on his cock.

"You’ve known her for what, a month? Don’t be stupid, Joel," Tommy presses on, almost begging now. "She’s twenty years old, you’re pushin’ sixty. Tell me she’s not havin’ your kid."

"She’s not pregnant, no," Joel answers evasively. But she will be. Tommy hears the meaning behind Joel’s words and shakes his head.

"Christ almighty, you’re beyond help."

Yes, Joel thinks, so stop trying to help. He drains the last of his whiskey, when the bedroom door opens, and he hears the familiar sound of your bare feet coming down the stairs. Tommy sighs.

Your hair is messy, your eyes droopy, Joel’s white shirt bright against your skin. Purple hickeys are blooming on your neck, your collarbones, your shoulders, and there’s a small bruise forming on your arm from when Joel grabbed you a little too tightly two nights ago. He knows what you look like to Tommy, like some sort of live-in-Lolita, but his brother hasn’t heard you beg for it, plead with Joel to let you come. You’re not here against your will.

"Hi," you say, surprise evident in your sleepy voice.

"Hello," Tommy answers, offering you a small smile. You answer with a blinding one yourself, one that has Joel’s chest growing tight with fondness. 

"I didn’t know you were coming over, I would’ve put on something else," you say timidly, and Joel’s jaw ticks. This is as good as your home now, you shouldn’t apologize for wearing the clothes you like – or lack thereof.

"Come here, baby," he says before Tommy can answer, and you do so without question, no intention of running back upstairs to put on a pair of pants. You sit down on Joel’s knee, his shirt hitching up your thighs a little. Tommy watches quietly as Joel’s hand finds your waist, rubbing soothing circles.

"I wanted to talk to you about patrols," Tommy says after a beat, clearly trying to move the conversion along. "I’ll stop bothering you two if you don’t miss them again."

It’s a fair exchange, Joel thinks, although really, Tommy should stop bothering you either way. Still, people might find it easier to look past what Joel does to you if he performs well in regards to his duties. So he agrees, and Tommy seems to relax a little. Then he addresses you.

"Maria told me you got the first couple of weeks off to get used to Jackson, but they’re almost over. Would you prefer kitchen duty, or the stables?"

Before you can open your mouth, Joel answers for you.

"She needs a little more time," he says, his palm slipping over your stomach possessively. "To…settle in."

He knows he’s really pushing Tommy’s patience, but the idea of you cutting your fingers with a knife or being kicked by a horse…he much prefers having you here, waiting for him. And you don’t object, just settle more comfortably against his front, your hand finding his on your tummy.

Tommy’s brows are furrowed, but Joel can see his eyes flickering over your bare thighs, Joel’s hand on your stomach, and he almost smirks. Even if Tommy is a righteous communist now, he’s also just a man.

"One month," he says, getting up from the sofa, "one month, Joel, and then she’ll be workin’ like everyone else."

Good, Joel thinks, one month is all I need.

He isn’t sure you’re entirely aware you’ll get pregnant if the two of you keep up what you’ve been doing, but every time he plans on pulling out and having a conversation about it, you whine and plead until he gives in and pumps you full of his come. You’ve got him wrapped around your little finger, even if it might seem the other way around to Tommy.

When Joel agrees, Tommy gets up from the couch, and Joel lifts you off of his lap. His shirt hitches dangerously high on your thighs, he’s sure you aren’t wearing anything underneath it, and Tommy’s eyes flicker towards your legs for just a moment. Joel puts a hand on the small of your back, walking his brother out.

"Come visit us again," you tell Tommy to everyone’s surprise, a sweet smile on your lips. "You’re the only one who does."

Tommy’s eyes linger on yours for a beat, then he smiles back.

"Sure, kid. You keep an eye on my brother."

You chuckle, agree, and then Tommy nods at Joel.

"Think about what I said," he says seriously.

"Alright," Joel sighs, fully aware nothing his brother tells him will stop him from taking you on the couch as soon as the door is closed. 

You smile at him when Tommy is gone, and press your smaller body against his. He leans down to kiss you, his hands sliding up the sides of your thighs and under your shirt – he was right, you’re not wearing panties.

"Jesus, baby, you almost gave Tommy a heart attack," he drawls, one hand trailing down your stomach and over your mound, until his fingers are rubbing circles into your clit. Within seconds you go from kind hostess to needy and plaint in his hands, as if no change occurred at all, as if you would have let him do this in front of Tommy. He gently prods at your entrance, gathers the wetness there and groans.

"Oh sweetheart, when did this start?"

You move your hips, but Joel holds you steady, and keeps teasing you with one finger, not quite pushing in.

"When you told me to sit in your lap," you breathe, burying your face in Joel’s chest, and he chuckles.

"You’ve sat in my lap plenty of times, kiddo, what had you all hot n bothered?"

He knows the answer before you say it, feel it heavy in the air between you.

"Tommy," you whisper, and Joel rewards you by circling your clit again.

"What about Tommy?"

"I…I liked that he watched," you breathe, your hands gripping Joel’s shirt tightly. He pushes one finger into you, watches you tremble, barely able to hold yourself upright here in the hallway, but he holds you steady and makes you take it.

"You like sittin’ in my lap half naked while Tommy watches? Should’ve come downstairs without a shirt, angel, I’m sure Tommy wouldn’t have minded. In fact, I think he liked watchin’, too."

You moan at his words, and when he curls his finger, it turns into a yelp, and suddenly you’re coming, gushing around him, pretty face all ashamed and hidden away Joel’s chest.

He could be angry with you, because you didn’t ask his permission, but he knows you didn’t disobey him on purpose – your reaction was honest and raw. The idea of Tommy watching you naked in Joel’s lap was enough to make you come on only one finger, and it has Joel hard within seconds. It means he’s not your little hide-away fantasy, or an escape from reality. You want him the way you always do, and you want him with the world watching.

When he takes your face between his hands and forces you to look up, your expression is guilty.

"I’m sorry, Daddy," you say nervously, but Joel just kisses you.

"That’s okay, babygirl, you couldn’t help it. You like the idea of someone watchin’ what I do to you?"

"Yes," you whisper, cheeks all scarlet the way he likes them.

 "How about I haul your ass over to the Tipsy Bison and fuck you right there, huh? Bet that would have this pretty pussy gushin’."

You whimper and press your hips to Joel’s, desperately trying to find some friction, but he picks you up easily, and carries you to the couch.

"Want me to do this to ya in front of all of Jackson?"

Your hips twitch, but you shake your head.

"No, D-daddy."

"No? Why not, baby?"

He takes off your shirt, you arms raising for him easily, undressing you a practiced routine by now.

"They’d be angry, Daddy," you breathe, "Tommy said they’d crucify you."

So you heard, heard how pregnancy is a possibility, how people think Joel is a dirty old man, how his own brother felt he needed to intervene, and still, only minutes after, he had you trembling and coming on his fingers. In fact, you want him to continue, and fantasize about people seeing you.

"I see, baby, you want people enjoy the show? You liked when Tommy looked at your legs?"

His hands find your tits, and he teases your nipples, rolling them between his fingers until you’re almost arching off the bed.

"Yes, Daddy, I liked that he could only watch," you say, and Joel feels heady with arousal. There we go, he thinks, cat’s outta the bag. He kneads your tits, eyes on your perfect body, cock straining against his jeans.

"You want Daddy to touch you anywhere he wants, and whoever’s watchin’ can’t?"

His words make you moan, and Joel is only a man, so he lets go of you, and unbuckles his belt.

"Asked you a question, kiddo," he drawls, shoving his jeans and underwear down only far enough for him to comfortably fuck you. He’s rock hard already, and pushes the tip against your entrance.

"Yes," you breathe, eyes wide and on him, and finally, he pushes into your willing body, all soft and open for him. You screw your eyes shut, the initial stretch of him always a lot to take, but he pushes on, knows you can take him.

"Daddy wants that, too," he groans, as you clench and flutter around him. "I’d fuck you so good, baby, make people see how bad you want this cock."

You don’t answer, eyes a little glassy, as he fucks in and out of you with deep strokes, all up in your guts. You move your hips in time with his, legs spread wide for him, and for a second he wonders how it’s possible you’re not pregnant yet. His thrusts deepen, the thought of fucking a baby into you turning him on even more.

You move your hand to rub at your clit, but Joel quickly grabs both of your wrists, holding them in one of his hands easily, and pinning them into the couch above your head.

"You come like this, baby, just on Daddy’s cock," he tells you, and although you whine, you don’t argue, just tug a little against his unmoving grip. His hips punch into yours, your eyes rolling upwards whenever he hits that special spot inside of you, and soon, you’re close again, clenching around him, and throwing your head from side to side in an attempt to stop yourself from coming without Joel’s permission again. It’s almost endearing, how much you want to please him.

"Please, Daddy, please let me come," you whine, and he could deny you, watch you squirm a little longer, but he’s not feeling mean today, so he pulls out almost all the way.

"Want you to come as soon as I push into you," he tells you, just to see if you can do it, and you nod frantically. So he moves, his length spearing you open once again, and as soon as the head of his cock nudges your spot, you’re whimpering and thrashing around, coming hard without him touching your little clit.

"Good girl, you take it so good," he groans, his voice a little broken.

It doesn’t take him long, although he knows you’d let him fuck him as long as he needs to, and soon he’s burying himself all the way inside of you, cock twitching and pumping you full of his cum. Your eyes are big and glued to his face, and when the last spurts are inside of you, he turns the two of you around so that you’re on top of him, his cock softening inside of you. You’re limp, satisfied and fucked out, eyes fluttering closed.

"I like that, Daddy," you mutter, and he strokes your back, fingers gentle and soft.

"Like what, angel?"

"When you touch me in front of people without asking."

His cock gives a weak twitch, and you smile.

"Can’t do it in front of people, baby, we’d make them uncomfortable, but I can stop askin’ if you’d like."

You move your hips unconsciously, and Joel stops you before you overstimulate his spent cock, but your reaction makes him chuckle.

"You’d like that? Want me to just slip right into you, whenever I want to?"

"Yes," you breathe, "please."

Always so polite, even when it’s just what Joel wants.

"Could do it while you’re sleepin’, baby, how’d you like that? Wouldn’t have to wake me up at night, I’d just fix that ache right when you start humpin’ my leg, hm?"

If possible, you grow wetter around him, and hide your face in his chest, once again embarrassed and turned on by his words. Joel chuckles, and ruffles your hair.

"I’d like that, Daddy," you mutter, and he presses a kiss to your head.

"Alright, baby, I’ll make sure to remember."

[kirsteng42]

This is everything, warm, cute and sexy!!!!!

i'm empty without you, so come grow within me

AO3 Link | main masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

rating: explicit (18+)

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

word count: 9K

summary: with winter approaching, joel takes stock of what he wants and what he has in his life. he wants you, but he's not quite sure he has you, not in a way that only a life in Jackson can afford. joel's an old-fashioned guy, so he's looking for an old-fashioned love . . . if he can only remember how to do it right.

inspired by the songs 'why don't we just dance' by Josh Turner and 'the kind of love we make' by Luke Combs, this fulfills a request from @handsomehelmet for my 1k celebration (creativity struck and now i'm going to make it everyone's problem)

warnings: the nastiest thing i can possibly imagine which is romance and sincerity, some willie nelson lyrics, established situationship, no age of reader specified, body insecurity, feelings of unworthiness/shame, survivor's guilt, blatant disregard for old man knees by eating pussy on the floor, unprotected piv, a teenager bullying fully grown adult to quit being stupid.

a/n: i know everyone gets into a tizzy when Joel doesn’t name what Tess is to him in front of Bill and while there probably was a heaping amount of guilt that accompanied that omission, i wonder if it might be a bit more complicated: he simply couldn’t name one thing because she was all things to him. A friend, a lover, a guide, a support system, a protector, a partner. So he says it the best way he can: “she’s mine.”

come see what else we've done to celebrate 1K followers

By the fourth bag, all you can think about is a warm shower. 

A chance to scrub away the dirt smeared on your arms, your neck, probably your face. You’d brought your own work gloves to bag fresh dirt for the greenhouse, but the longer you work, more sprinkles of dirt find their way down the lip of your gloves. You can feel it against your palms, under your nails. The cold winter air lurks beneath the crack of the door, stifled from invading by the artificial heat provided by the generator just outside, and it stifles you too with its oppressive weight. You’re fairly sure the dirt on your forehead has turned to mud, sweat and damp earth encrusted on your dry skin. 

By the sixth, you doubt your shoulders will ever move again without popping. 

You know Joel’s already do. 

Never a particularly chatty man even in his best moods, the greenhouse had become stuffy with heat and silence, both you and Joel too lost in the work to find the energy to even fake idle chatter. But, knowing this about Joel and a certain degree yourself, silences with him were never a bad thing. That was one of the things you enjoyed most about being with him; you two could do your own things together. Many snowy days were spent with him stretched out on the couch, reading, and you working on writing your sheet music on the floor, his knee hovering over your shoulder with your back to the cushions – spent in total silence, and they are some of the fondest memories you had since coming to Jackson and falling into the third and final piece of the Miller-Williams household. 

Like with the end of the world, you weren’t sure how you got there until everything had fallen into place around you; Joel and his adoptive daughter had been just another group who were taken in by the town of Jackson . . . until they weren’t. Ellie was just another foul-mouthed kid who had seen too much and had too much taken from her . . . until she wasn’t. Joel was your occasional patrol partner and a fellow Willie Nelson fan. . . until he wasn’t.

Until that unmistakable line, one that seemed to be lost on a global scale beneath the blood and the gore and the grief, had been crossed when he asked you out for drinks and the both of you knew the evening wasn’t going to end in a nightcap. 

And then you were partners, even outside of patrol. Partners in re-enforcing a weakened part of Jackson’s outer walls. Partners in cooking, attempting to recreate an enchilada recipe Joel only vaguely remembered from a Tex-Mex hole-in-the-wall fifteen minutes from where he used to live in Austin. Partners when it’s snowing heavily outside and there’s not much to do except to read and, well . . . Joel was a fantastic partner in that.

Joel Miller was a great partner for a lot of things. He worked diligently, quickly and, unless the conversation was started by someone else, silently. 

He, in short, was not someone who was easily distracted.

Which, in combination with your own exhaustion and a desire to scrub the first layer of your skin off with a loofah, is why you feel a flare of annoyance when you look up and see him staring off into the distance. His fingers loosely grip the handle of the shovel, his palm resting over the curved point, Joel’s expression is nearly unreadable, except for the small crevice between his eyebrows. He stands, fixated on the greenhouse wall, as if watching the blurry Christmas lights from the town square, suddenly oblivious to the work you two have been doing for the past hour and a half. 

“Joel.” Nothing. “Joel!” 

You raise your hand to smack him on the leg when, without looking down, he asks:

“When was the last time I took you out?” 

“What?”

His weight shifts, holds the shovel by one hand now. You catch a sliver of frustration in those deep brown eyes as he looks at you. He wears what you and Ellie secretly refer to as his “pouty-mouth”, a classic expression when he isn’t getting his way about something but won’t draw attention to the fact that it annoys him.

“Tell me about the last date I took you on.”

You huff, standing up with a pop in your hips. Your knees are aching from kneeling on the cold winter ground and your skin fluxes between overheating under your jacket and stiffly frozen on your extremities. 

“Joel, c’mon, be serious. We’ve got three more –,”

“I am being serious.” Dumb-founded, you watch as he digs the tip of the shovel into the ground with a hollow chunk. Crosses his arms and continues to frown at you like you just suggested doing away with the Christmas holiday entirely. “We’ll get to this, but I want you to tell me right now what we did on our last date.”

You roll your eyes, humoring him. “Fine, I don’t know what crawled up your ass, but okay. On our last date, we . . . we did . . . you took me to . . .”

It’s your turn to frown. He raises a petulant eyebrow and it’s eerie how many times you’ve seen that exact expression on Ellie. 

“Okay, fine, so it’s been a while. We’ve been busy – we’ve all been busy with the winter season coming. All of Jackson has been out battening down the hatches. What does it matter if we’ve let things slide a bit?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, quiet in his Joel way. He glances out through the blurred greenhouse glass and maybe he was actually staring at the string lights hung over Jackson’s square. Normally, you didn’t mind being unable to dissect his every expression, every sigh, every carefully wielded silence, but when it came to you and his feelings about you – feelings that were always implied in those silences – you wished you had a little window, some hint, as to what rumbled on behind those earth-dark eyes. 

Joel drums his fingers on the handle of the shovel, unease rolling through his body as he shifts his weight. 

“Matters some,” he tells the ground. “With the holidays comin’ around . . . matters for Ellie – her first winter here in Jackson. Matters for Tommy, with that new baby of his . . .”

“Your nephew,” you supply as much as prod. Sometimes the only way to get an honest answer out of him was when he was just a bit pissed off and less guarded. Instead he just nods, gloved hand on his hip, thick jacket widening his already confounding broadness.

“It matters because it’s important. To me. It’s important to me.”

He meets your gaze and you’re struck full force again with that feeling like you drank too much of the Tipsy Bison’s shitty whiskey too fast. Same feeling that couldn’t be drowned even with the Tipsy Bison’s shitty whiskey when you shared a drink with him for the first time. When you managed to laugh when he bet you a whole day of stable cleaning duties that Willie Nelson and Chris Stapleton survived the apocalypse somewhere in a shack in Tennessee. Joel Miller was disarmingly funny when he wanted to be.

And even worse, disarmingly sincere.

You take his gloved hand in yours. You feel the sensation of his fingers threading through yours but not the heat you’ve grown so accustomed to. 

“Alright, then. What do you want to do about it?” You ask quietly, to the upturned collar around his neck, his green flannel peeking out from behind the zipper of his jacket. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but there’s a lot of snow on the ground so that makes our options for date night kinda limited.” You scrunch your nose at him because you like to see the light in his eyes bloom when you do.

He chuckles, a rumbling sound, and he drops his forehead against yours, fingers tightening their grip around yours. Suddenly in your throat, your heart pounds. He’s never this affectionate in public. Maybe it’s those miraculously blurred greenhouse glass walls. 

His breath smells like that peppermint toothpaste that came in last week, infused with the warming-coil smell from the greenhouse. 

“Dunno yet.” He admits. “I’ll think of somethin’.”

“No ideas yet?” You raise your eyebrows against his forehead and he grins, shaking his head.

“Not yet.” 

“Then can I make a suggestion?”

“‘Course.”

“We finish bagging this dirt, then head home for a shower. In a really sexy way, obviously.” 

He huffs, smothering a laugh, and quick as lightning he kisses you on the cheek. But in the same movement, steps away and grabs the shovel again. You don’t have time to react to the fact he just kissed you for the first time outside of the four walls of his house before he’s scooping up dirt. You drop to your knees to pick up the bag again, your legs already weak.

“We both know you’re going to pass out on the couch the second we’re home.”

Your voice is steadier than you feel, as you look up at him. His face is flushed and that worry line between his eyes is gone. 

“You got me pegged, Miller. You got me pegged.”

Two days later, he stands in the middle of his living room, hands on his hips, surveying his handiwork. All of the furniture has been pushed to the far ends of the room, up against the walls or against the staircase out in the hallway. He’s kept the overhead lights off and put the standing lamps in the corners, bathing the room in a despondent glow. He thinks, after a quarter of a century never even entertaining something like this, it might be interpreted as romantic. He hopes you’ll see it that way at least. 

He hears it now, in his head, even though she’s out in the disconnected garage, snug and warm as he could have possibly made it – you worry too much, old man. 

Ellie knows there’s something going on between you two. Hell, the entire town has cottoned onto whatever this is; you’re often seen leaving his house early in the morning, and he’s been seen on occasion strolling up to your house with flowers. It’s not new, it’s not a secret, but it is . . . it just is and that’s about as far as he’s gotten. 

He hasn’t had you over for dinner with Ellie in that very specific way that very much needs to happen, as it often does when there is a new presence added to an established dynamic – as Maria often reminds him. But that almost feels like presenting your head on a silver plate to Ellie to either sniff with disinterest or tear into – both terrifying scenarios, even though they seem unlikely. Ellie does in fact seem to like you very much, as her riding teacher and occasional greenhouse buddy. But would she continue to like you in the context of you being one half of “You and Him” as a pair? Together. As a couple . . . of people who are seeing each other, whatever that means in a world filled with the most aggressive form of fungus imaginable. 

This life in Jackson, this fragile second chance to remember and rekindle his own natural instincts, is too precious to bet on a question like that. 

So he doesn’t ask it. At least not out loud. 

That’s one of the things he likes so much about you: his silences aren’t entirely indecipherable and often are encouraged by your own. Except this silence about this particular thing doesn’t feel like one of your shared, comfortable moments and instead it’s encroaching rapidly into avoidance. 

Standing in that greenhouse and seeing the string lights over the town square reminded him of a long ago Christmas, dancing with his favorite person under a Christmas tree, and how good it made him feel. How special it made him feel. All these years later, safe in a way his body has almost forgotten, there’s an urge he has to share that feeling, to recreate it under entirely different circumstances, with someone new. Someone else. To not try and fight the smile that constantly threatens to buoy up every time he’s around you. 

It’s foreign, that feeling in his chest, but it’s not entirely alien, at least not of late. 

He knows he’s white-knuckling it because he knows firsthand how painfully quick it can all be gone. Taken away. Left and buried by a black river while the world burns.

But he’s worried he’ll crush it with how tightly he holds on. How hard he begs a silent universe for it to last just a little bit longer. 

His knees ache, his left shoulder goes tight when it rains, his body is not what it once was, but his mind is still there, still clear, and he remembers how romance used to feel, where it used to reside in his younger body, and as he stares out at the cleared room, listening to your footsteps overhead as you attempt to follow his vague instructions to “make yourself feel pretty” (because you already were to him, even covered in dirt and sawdust), he thinks this feels like the old world. An old world romance. It’s foreign, that feeling, but for the first time in a long time he doesn’t want to hold it at arm’s length.

“Joel?” You call from the top of the stairs, your voice tentative and cautious. But not cautious like you peeking around a corner to look for clickers. But cautious as in unsure, doubtful. You are a woman made up of a lot of things, with foundations unlike he’d ever seen before, but doubt is not a part of you. You never doubt him. 

“Yeah, baby?” Your nerves make him nervous and he futzes with a lampshade while waiting for you.

“Are you done down there?” 

He has to breathe slowly through the fluttering beneath his breastbone before he can answer. “Yeah, baby, all finished. You can come down now.”

“Okay . . . but you can’t laugh.” Him, laugh at you? There’s the instinct to smother the faint grin that spreads out across his mouth, but he told himself he wasn’t going to fight whatever came across his face tonight. If you see it, then you see it and he’s come to accept that. 

(Maybe even want that.)

He shakes his head, his only pair of nice boots (a thank you from a former rancher when Joel fixed his family’s heater) clicking on the hardwood floor as he stands at the bottom of the stairs. You must be hiding behind the wall because he can’t see you. 

“I’m not gonna laugh, sweetheart. Why d’ya think I’d laugh?” 

Silence faces him at the top of the stairs, and then:

“Because quite frankly I forgot my tits could look like this and I don’t know how to feel about it.” 

The snort that comes out of him is a poor attempt to muffle the chuckle. He thumbs the wood finial at the top of the bannister. 

“Can’t remember ever having any complaints before and I don’t think I’ll have ‘em now, no matter how they look.” 

“Whatever, Miller, you’re just a horn dog.” 

He rolls his eyes, fingers rubbing anxiously together at his side, as if he could tug the fluttering out of his chest. He leans on the other foot, the one with the bad knee, to adjust the slightly uncomfortable tightness in his jeans. A dark swirl in the second step of the stairs has become wildly interesting.

“Baby, just come down here. I’m not gonna laugh. Promise.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” you grumble, still out of sight. “I know where you keep your feral child and I will not hesitate to let her loose on you.”

Joel nods, grinning faintly, still focused resolutely on the whorl in the floor. “That’s a real big threat from someone who –,”

The words die in his throat.

In fact, he’s quite sure he won’t be capable of speech for a very long time. 

That foreign feeling – that feeling he’s worked for twenty years to suppress – is ignited in his chest. 

You walk, no, maybe you float down the stairs in the most stunning red dress he’s ever seen. It’s definitely not yours – he knows every inch of your closet because he had inspected it studiously when you offered to keep some of his clothes at your place and he was trying very hard to delay putting a handful of his belongings beside a woman’s things in a move that felt heart-stoppingly domestic. 

No, he has never, ever seen you in this dress. 

Come to think of it, he’s never seen you in any dress and you were entirely correct that your tits look wildly different. Fantastically different, but –

“Maria didn’t have any heels that fit me to go with the dress,” you announce airily, your chin up. But your eyes dart over his face as if looking for something you need to find. “But it’s fourteen degrees outside, Joel, and I’m not doing whatever this is in just socks because that’s ridiculous so you’re just going to have to deal with the boots.”

The Boots. The ones you wear while crushing clicker skulls and tending the stables. They still bear damp spots from where you tried to clean the blood and dirt from the leather.

It’s rather incapacitating how arousing he finds this particular combination.

So much so, he doesn’t realize he hasn’t said anything in a full minute until you bark at him, a cold tinge of panic in your voice.

“Joel!” His eyes snap to yours. Of course, you’re fucking beautiful – your eyes seem bigger, cheeks pinker, mouth wet – fucking Christ, where did you get make up? 

“Say something!” Those rosy lips drop down and to his horror, you’re upset. “Please!”

“B-baby, you look . . .” He doesn’t mean to grab your entire ass in one hand; he just wants to feel as much of that velvet on your skin as possible. You stumble into his arms, another something that is so unlike you, as he tugs you forward. Bends his lips to your ear to discover how fast you’re breathing. How fast your pulse races in your neck. The shudder that breaks the rigidity of your body when he brushes his mouth, the short bristles of his beard, against your skin is no surprise; you told him exactly what that sensation does to you in no uncertain terms the first night he ate you out on the table of your kitchen. “You look incredible.”

Your fingers bite into his biceps. Push back out of his arms, despite the obvious warmth in your cheeks. You level his arousal in a single glare. “Joel, I asked you not to tease.” 

Tommy once told him he was a pain in the ass to be around sometimes because he displays every negative emotion as anger and so it’s damn near impossible to figure out whatever it was he was so bent out of shape about.

Sadness as anger.

Shame as anger.

Guilt as anger.

Fear as anger.

With your fingers balled up, it's the tremor in your fists that gives you away. 

He had genuinely intended this to be a quiet night away from the cafeteria, away from the Tipsy Bison, away from anyone else. He wanted you all to himself and in his greed, he didn’t see it until he saw it in your eyes. 

How vulnerable being pretty made you. How vulnerable privacy made you. 

How being vulnerable made you so deeply, deeply afraid. 

Almost as afraid as he was. 

Without a word, he turns to the record player, strategically hidden behind the couch and puts on the carefully selected record. The silent scratches for a moment before –

Your eyes widen as Nelson begins to sing his most beautiful love song (in Joel’s humble opinion). Your shoulders slacken, hands lose their grip, you blink up at him in total bewilderment. You aren’t an indecisive person, you’re quick as a whip, rarely confused – so this befuddled look on your face is kinda cute. 

Tucking that rare look on your face away for another time, Joel wanders to the center of the room, in the heat of the light from the fireplace, his good boots clicking over the wood. He opens his arms, hand out to you.

“Let’s try something new tonight.”

I'll always be with you for as long as you please

For I am the forest but you are the trees

The decision you make is a visible one. 

Your palm is warm, weighted as it slides over his. This time his hand respectably settles on your waist, then on your low back when (to his surprise) you come closer. He’s delighted to watch you smile at him, distantly aware of the stretch of his own on his face. 

Willie strums on his guitar, crooning softly, the sound warm and deep. With the weight of you against his chest, that feeling crackles like the flames over the wood logs in the fireplace. You drop your head, turn your cheek, and just before you come to rest on his shoulder, he sees your smile slide into a smirk.

“New, huh? What’s new look like for a sixty-five-year-old man at the end of the world?” Even with teasing, your voice is soft and sweet, the soft powder of cinnamon. Slowly, as if not to startle either one of you, he leans his chin against your forehead.

“You n’ I’ve been burning both ends, keepin’ the lights on. New to us is having a goddamn break.” His voice is low, meant only for you, and in the tremble of his deep bass, the words elongate in his mouth. He brings your intertwined hands just under his chin and when that goes well, he tightens his grip around your back, drawing you flush against him. It reduces the dancing to more of a sway but Joel can’t find a single thing to complain about. You gently tap the pad of your middle finger in the hollow of his collarbone to the beat of the song.

I'm empty without you so come grow within me

For I am the forest and you are the trees

And the heavens need romance so love never dies

“‘N ‘m only fifty-six, jackass.” 

You grin, twisting in his grasp, rub your nose on his chest to wrap your arms around his neck. He clutches to your back like a key finding its lock. 

You'll be the stars dear and I'll be the sky

And should any of this find us let them all be forewarned

That you are the thunder and I am the storm

“This is nice, Joel,” you murmur in his ear. The backs of his arms are growing warm by the fire. He presses his lips to your exposed shoulder, unsure of what to say, or what not to say, only nodding. He closes his eyes, trying to hold this moment forever in his memory. The soft flare of your waist, the winged-spread of your ribs, beneath his hands brings him back into your arms.

"Yeah?" Quiet, into your skin as if to muffle the question entirely, to muffle the unsure wobble in his voice. "It's good?"

He feels you nod beneath his chin, the smell of fresh soap escaping from the back of your neck, and the clamp around his throat loosens. He breathes, unimpeded for the first time all night, a low exhale taking the tension from his body as the air leaves his lungs.

Relief. A sinking down into the moment, into your arms.

You chuckle with your cheek against his chest and he feels the vibrations down to his stomach.

"Yeah, Joel, you did good. Really good." With the hand he holds in the air, you rub your thumb over the knuckle of his thumb, soothing. It used to bother him you could read the lines of his emotions as well as you read a book, as well as you write your own name, effortlessly, as if you had been given a guide no one ever thought to show him. But now, now that you understand how much this means to him, that you know he needs to be told he made you happy, it's more than relief. It's an unburying – a resuscitation of pieces of himself (seed-like bone fragments) that he thought had long since died in the soil of his ribs. "Thank you. I needed this."

He wants you to see the whole of him. Lift up an antiquated silver plate and show you the dents and scratches in his reflection. When you kiss his cheek gently, the hope floating in his chest flares, a solar explosion with tendrils that reach into the blackness of space and it asks him, what would you do to keep her?

Everything. Anything.

He shuffles closer, feels the warmth of your body lined up against his, the clean scent beneath the edge of your jaw blooming in his nose and throat. The hope hums, pitches dark like the forest floor in the rain, and grows teeth. His want for you digs into his skin and evolves into a needy, unsatisfied thing.

“Where’d you get this dress, hm?” He asks, lips half an inch from your shoulder. It falls and rises, never catching on your skin as he plays with the fabric. He runs his palm up your spine, the velvet coming with him, and watches as the swell of your thighs and the tease of your ass is revealed. Dirty old man. “‘N who do I have to kill to get you to keep it?”

You laugh into his neck. He wonders if you’re intentionally twisting his curls at the base of his neck to send sparks of arousal down his spine or if you are completely unaware of the cause of his insanity. Your hands are littered with scars and calluses and every time you touch him, he could melt through the floorboards.

“They found it in some strip mall and were actually going to strip it down for material. But Aaron at the sewing center owed me a favor and you said wear something nice, so . . .” You thumb the lip of his collar, your fingertips brushing the knot of his spine every time you drag your fingers back and forth. 

And I'll always be with you for as long as you please

For I am the forest and you are the trees

He knows you well enough to know that something lingers in your mind, but even after all this time, even after what he’s seen with you, been through with you, the things he’s done to you – he isn’t quite sure if he has the right to ask. 

Instead, he squeezes you. He means to do it just with his hands, but ends up swallowing you in his arms. 

Your mouth is pressed up against his chest when you finally go on. 

“It just seems silly to keep, Joel.” 

The high he’s been riding on all night falters, since you first walked down those stairs to him. Your eyes are wet when he pulls back and cups you by your cheek. He stops swaying with you.

“Why’s that?” 

There it is, that all too familiar flicker of fear. You can’t look at him, despite his every touch, his every glance pulling you into him, to be near him. 

“Because other people should have it. They should have a chance to . . .” 

You withdraw your head from his hands, his thumb brushing your jaw as you retreat. He might actually lose a piece of himself if you let go now, but instead you clasp his wrists in your fingers. You stare at your hands and his between you, as if this whole thing between you could solidify at your feet, finally real. 

Willie has stopped singing, only that musky drone on an empty track.

“Someone else should have a chance to feel pretty, to feel this way, because it shouldn’t be wasted and I’m afraid – I wonder if –,”

He knows he’s being a bit too rough when he takes your jaw and straightens your gaze to him, but his heart might fly out of his chest before he has a chance to say anything. His stomach turns, not knowing he’s not at the peak of a roller coaster drop, that he’s standing on solid ground, even if it swims under his feet.

“What you feel is not wasted.” A murmur, stern, as steadily and as serious as he possibly can be.

That feeling aches in his chest and you haven’t even gone anywhere. You haven’t left . . . yet. “What this is, is not wasted time. I spent twenty years wasting time, looking for something that wasn’t there, and with you . . . I can’t say I’ve found it –,”

“Why? Why can’t you say you’ve found it?” Your grip around his wrists tightens, eyes hard. “Why can’t you name it, Joel?”

“Can you?” He pulls his hands out of your grip and you let him go. “How can you ask for what you want when you can’t even ask to keep this dress?” 

“Because I don’t deserve it!” It’s not silence that follows; it’s emptiness. You face away from him, pressing the heel of your hand into your brow bone, teeth slightly bared. Your arm bars across your stomach like you are literally holding in your guts. Finally, you lift your head, the few scant tears on your face sparkling in the firelight. “I don’t deserve you, Joel. I don’t deserve any of this. Ellie, the way she . . . I’m here, warm and happy, acting like the fucking world hasn’t ended. Playing house, playing pretend. Pretending like I’m your –,”

You swallow the words caught in your throat, gaze leaping away from him. At your side, your hand trembles again. 

Oh, honey, the shit I’ve done . . . 

With wide, wet eyes, you watch him approach. He doesn’t look at you, instead seeing exactly where he’d like to put his lips on your stomach beneath the fabric. 

“Then what do you want, hm?” There’s a fold in the front of the dress and he runs his fingers along the edge of it. “We can’t fix it. Can’t go back ‘cause there’s nothin' to go back to. I don’t care what you had to do to get here, right here, with me because I’m so fuckin’ glad you are. I’m not pretending, not wasting my time, never was. ‘Cause you’re right.” 

Your hand over his stills his endless roving and then it stays, scarred hand over scarred hand. Your gesture says something to him, something so meaningful he has no idea how to put it into words. He swallows his attempt and instead, slowly, drags both hands over your hips, where they stay. Heavy against the velvet. 

You rest your own against his forearms, neither pulling him in or pushing him back. 

“I was right about what?”

His eyes flick to yours and maybe it’s presumptuous, maybe he really is an old man afraid of his feelings, or maybe living this long – despite everything that ever tried to make it otherwise – living this long has granted him the privilege of knowing with perfect clarity what you’re thinking when you look at him like that. How he wants to whisper it back to you and he decides he will the next time your skin is warm and tacky, body helpless beneath his. 

Your eyes shamelessly track the brush of his tongue against his bottom lip.

“That you’re mine. Just like I’m yours.” 

The hands at his forearms glide up to his chest. The rims of your irises have gone a bit blurred, a bit unstable, and you can’t decide whether to look at his mouth or his eyes.

“Joel?” Suddenly breathy, all begging, pleading.

“Hm?”

“Get me out of this fucking dress.” 

When your lips crash into his, his entire world narrows down to where on his body, yours touches: 

your rough hand cradling his cheek, the other fisting the collar of his shirt. His fingers digging into your skirt, the heat from your thigh nearly driving him to tear straight through the fabric to get to you. Your sweet, perfect mouth smeared against his, lips puffed pink, nose to your cheek. 

That warm, wet cunt he thinks he can feel through his boxers, jeans, the dress and your underwear. 

It’s not enough. 

The cry you let out is some mangled mix of a moan and his name when he licks the soft supple skin behind your ear and nips your earlobe.

“Baby, please – please – bedroom, we have to–,”

He grunts his disapproval at your words, overwhelmed by the scent that makes his mouth water as he stains the column of your throat with wet, humid kisses. 

“Joel, c’mon, honey, just upstairs –,” 

The last flickering tiny speckle of logic in his brain fights with itself; take your right here or haul you over his shoulder – which isn’t great for his back and, quite frankly, he intends to spend most of the night on his knees. 

First option it is. 

You mumble in confusion, eyes shut, chin brushing the thread of gray curls on the top of his head as he purposefully sucks a bright hickey into your collarbone, one hand cupping your breast, the other pushing you backwards. You go willingly, of course. 

Until the backs of your legs hit the couch and there’s nowhere else to go. In the stumble, your dress rides up even higher and those thighs he’s actually lost sleep over appear to him. He drops to his knees, hands like meat hooks as they squeeze your waist, pulling that warm cunt even closer to him over the edge of the couch. You groan when he pushes the skirt up even higher, practically to your tits, as he explores your outer, then inner thighs with soft strokes of the back of his hands. He presses his nose to the crevice between your thigh and hip and inhales. 

“B-baby, the windows,” you swallow thickly, slurring like you’re drunk, grabbing at his shoulders like you’re trying to steady yourself, or turn him towards the windows. “I mean – the curtains, baby, the curtains are –,”

“It’s a fucking blizzard outside,” he explains tersely with his eyes still closed, as if irritated to have a conversation instead of focusing every ounce of concentration he has to the heat and smell beneath your black panties. He drags his teeth over the elastic band around your hips and makes you whine his name for an entirely different reason. 

You don’t make him stop or wait when he tugs those panties down your hips. In fact, you help, lifting your hips, the irises of your eyes so wide and black, you look halfway out of your mind.

Good.

He gathers the skirt he was once so fond of and stuffs it into the cushions behind you. You watch him as he moves, eyes half-lidded, finger scraping your bottom lip. Around his ribs, your knees dip back and forth, moving targets, like he’s forgotten why he’s here and needs reminding. 

His big paw, the size of which makes you feel indescribably small, catches your knee and stills it, gaze dark and heavy. Do not test me right now. You try not to moan. 

“Can’t believe I’m going to let you fuck me with my boots on,” you whisper airly, watching with delirious fascination as he puts one of your slender legs over his shoulder. His mouth is actually watering at the sight of your damp curls. 

“Not gonna fuck you. Just gonna eat your pussy. You’ll know the difference.”

“Semantically, it’s the sa-a-me thi-ng, Jo-e – ah, Joel!” 

His tongue up inside you turns you into a whiny, high-pitched, feminine mess. He eats like he does everything else: diligently, quickly, and silently. 

Until you bury your fingers in his ash-flecked curls and tug. 

That first deep, loud moan ripples through his body, rolling him up just off his heels, his crotch seeking some kind – any kind – of friction. 

The feel of his mouth humming against your cunt has your eyes rolling back in your head. “Please, oh fuck, please –” 

You are a grown woman. You should not be making these noises. 

You also shouldn’t be using a man’s face to get off . . . but you do it anyway.

“Tha’s it, baby,” he mutters when your hips grind against his face. His nose catches your clit and around him, your thighs wobble. “Use me, fuckin’ use me.” 

His grip around your calf over his shoulder turns rough and he knows he’ll bruise you, but fuck, the thought of you walking around town with a mark in the shape of his hand where everyone can see —

He briefly lifts his grip from your thigh to adjust his iron-hot cock in his jeans. From his view over your cunt, it doesn't seem like you noticed, or even saw him leave your skin. He watches you writhe, try to capture your breath, eyes crammed shut as your hips rock almost without your control. He takes a chance to lick the musky dampness from his upper lip when your cunt rolls back from his face a fraction of an inch — and then he sinks in again.

Call it age or the fact that you both are here at the end of the world, but the first night he ate you out, you told him exactly how and where you like it, unabashed and in control and honestly it’s the hottest thing he can think of in recent memory. 

He would have written it down on the backs of his eyelids if he could. 

He follows it to the letter.

“Joel – Joel, baby, please don’t stop –,” You buck and moan beneath him as he spells out your instructions with his tongue along your cunt. He dots the i’s with a tap of his tongue or a lick on your clit. Just inches above his head, your chest heaves, your fingers locked into his curls, gently pushing him closer to your puffy pussy as if he’d ever waste a drop of what leaks out of you. 

With a flat-tongued brush against your suffering clit, you arch off the couch, your sighs now verging on desperate, high and whinging, because it’s just not fair how good he makes you feel. He can feel your foot curl against the planes of his back, the rubber heel heavy, your mouth open and wet, with your eyes locked on the ceiling as you try to ride out your humming orgasm with a semblance of control.

“Look at me.” 

No other man has ever been able to make you come with just his mouth, you told him once.

And no other man ever will. 

It’s sweet, the way your eyes soften briefly when you lock eyes with him, crouched between your thighs — before your head tips back, lips wrenched apart in a silent scream, and you come, as hard as he has worked for the flush of slick down his chin.

There’s goosebumps on your thighs, he notes. He rubs his thumb against your raised skin and you shudder, head rolling against the back of the couch.

He’s already feeling a slight twinge of shame at the noise his knees will inevitably make when he stands, but for now he’s content watching you glide down from your high, his head against your knee, shoulders still stretching your legs open wide. 

To his delight, you manage to laugh, your hand draping over your eyes. You can see the shine of the dull light all across his lips, his chin, his nose and you have to close your eyes. He should make you lick it off him, but not tonight.

“Top marks, Miller, as usual,” you mumble, “but the threat of voyeurism really deserves the extra credit.” 

He grins. Still waiting for your breath to slow, he wipes his mouth with his palm and slides the leg over his shoulder down in between his own thighs. Propped up on one knee, he begins to unlace your boot. He holds your calf like it’s delicate as he gently drags the boot over your heel. 

He’s just as reverent with the other side. 

And then your boots, the pair, sit at the end of his couch, like they were always meant to be there. 

His heart, easing down from its own thunderous beat, squeezes and that feeling, that strange-not-so-strange feeling, the one that dictates practically every action with you, dribbles into his veins. 

You open one eye. A flutter of lashes, coy and playful, the curve of your mouth guarding a hoard of secrets.

“Now, Joel Miller . . . will you take me to bed?” 

It’s a question. A request. Your eyes, as dark as ever, on his warm his chest, all the way down his spine. You’re asking, politely, for a thing you both know he would never, ever deny you. 

He cannot lose you, he just can’t. 

He stands and, yes, his knees crack and pop, but he regains stability when he toes off his only good pair of cowboy boots. He nods, grinning, and offers you his hand.

The walk, half-run up to his bedroom is something his brain designates as not important enough to store away. 

Instead, it languishes in the way you stretch out on his mattress before him, ass in the air, knees spread over his blankets and arms sliding through crumpled sheets towards the headboard. 

The room is dark, the only light fighting its way through the downpour of snow comes from the lamp posts that dot the street outside. But the veil of snow warps the light and everything in the half-darkness is doused in blue. 

The shadowy, blurred curve of your shoulder, blue. 

The spread of your fingers on his mattress, blue.

The swollen bottom of lip of your mouth —

“Joel.” 

The snow falls so fast and hard, it patters against the windows and the sides of the house. It’s the only thing he can hear over the pounding of his heart and the short breath in his lungs. He stares at you, soaking his blankets in your scent and slick, and you stare right back in utter and total silence. 

You sit in the center of his bed, bare for him beneath the velvet dress that is red like blood, your patchy white socks at complete odds with your smeared make up and the fucked-out look in your eyes. But there’s something else there too. 

Something softer. Gentler. 

You reach out a hand to him and he goes to you, like always. The instant your skin touches his the instinct to fuck you hard until you’re bruised and crying evaporates. He doesn’t think you want that anymore either. 

No, you need — 

“Joel, please come here. I need you.” 

You need him.

The mattress squeaks when he settles one knee and then the other on top of it, his fingers stroking your ear, brushing the tips of your hair, while he kisses you with an ache that is not physically manifested. Instead, it resides —

“I love you,” you whisper. 

You pull back infinitesimally, just enough that your eyes are all he sees. 

A patient silence hangs from the ceiling. The sound of snow falling. Of baited breath. The scratch of your fingers against at his beard —

“I love you too.” You smile and his body is no longer big enough to contain his heart. “I feel like I’ve always loved you. Is that strange?” 

Your gaze traces the same path your fingers take when you think he’s sleeping; it runs over his nose, his forehead, his eyebrows, the plush curve of his lips. Like you can’t believe he’s there with you. Like you can’t believe he’s real. 

That feeling — that feeling he had been fighting because it always was the only thing that would ever really do him in — is love. He loves you. 

He loves you.

And you love him. 

Didn’t think they told stories like this anymore, not in a world like this. So maybe, for once, Joel Miller just got lucky. 

“No. It’s not. Just be sure you mean it.”

He can't tell if the glow in your eyes comes from within you or it beams out of him. “Every word.”

Eventually, he sheds you of his favorite dress of yours, your only dress, and he lays you back, fully bare in the nest of his blankets. In the corner of his bedroom, the heater hisses like the wind from a purple storm, the static crackle of warmth hovering in the air. You watch, with eyes that shine like stars, as he pops apart the pearl-snaps holding his shirt together. 

And then his white undershirt goes next. He used to worry what he looked like, until he found someone else who had done exactly what was necessary to survive. 

When he goes to unzip his pants, you sit up, hair mussed and the hickey he gave you earlier throbbing like a dream. 

“I wanna do it.” 

He lets you unbutton his jeans, slide the zipper down, at the edge of the bed, but your hands are shaking, your breath stunted.

“I’m fumbling like a teenager,” you huff, a small, flustered smile on your face. “It’s like I’m nervous, but what is there to be nervous about —,”

His mouth pressed up against yours creates the most beautiful silence of all. 

How do you want me, you ask him and he thinks, all the time. But he takes you both under the covers and settles in next to you. He positions one leg over his hip and immediately you know exactly what he’s asking for. Quick as a whip, you are. 

There’s a rustle of covers, the bed slats squeaking, and then he’s nearly nose-to-nose with you. You kiss him again, maybe nervous still. 

He disconnects, when you slip between his legs and take his thick, leaking cock in your hand. 

“Baby, wait, do you need — I know it’s a lot — I’m a lot –,”

He can’t fathom why he’s so nervous either. But you chuckle, shake your head, smile at him. 

“Don’t need anything but you.” 

Your leg wraps tighter over his hip, knee up to his ribs, as he sinks inside you. The palm wrapped around the back of your knee grips roughly only once.

This is true silence. The instant where the world goes muted, everything distant and muffled, when he’s first buried deep in your heat. 

Your fingers thread through his curls and suddenly all sound is cranked up to an eleven. Your rapid, stilted breathing, the groan of the bed, your soft smothered moans, or are those his? —

“Fuck me, Joel.” 

Eyes never leaving yours, he does. 

Your fingers dig into his skull, nails biting, hand wrapped around his neck to hold yourself steady as he thrusts up into you. He thumbs your stiff nipple, half of his hand still grasping your ribs. 

You meet him thrust for thrust, a slow steady pace that draws sweat to his hairline and endless gasps from his mouth. But your gaze stays strong, never falters. Your hand slips to his shoulder, to stabilize just a bit more, but then it's on his chest, twisting his chest hair and he thinks he feels that sparkle of sanity, of rationality, any restraint to hold back crack and shatter between the clench of his teeth. 

“Goddamn–,” 

He rolls, taking you under him and demanding a faster pace. You push your hand against the headboard, the bed knocking against the wall in rhythmic, hypnotic thuds. 

He thinks you hiss his name before you bite down his shoulder. 

The sharp shock of pain lights up his brain, channeling the sudden awareness that he liked that so fucking much all the way down his spinal cord where it presses hot against his groin. 

He lifts up onto one elbow, skin sweat hot and sticky as it splits from yours. 

“Tell me what you need to come,” he pants.  

You whine again, your throat dripping sweat, but that’s not an answer. Knowing he has about a half-a-dozen to a dozen good grinds before it puts too much strain on his back, he uses every single one of them to drag you to the knife’s edge. 

“What–,” grind, “do you need –,” grind, “to come?”

The wail you let out nearly makes him come on the spot. Your eyes have that same, out-of-this-world, off-this-planet unfocused gaze, any sort of language impossible. You plead with him in the silence. A silence loaded with damp moans, grit teeth, and skin against skin against skin against skin against skin. Best sound in the world, as far as he was concerned.

You arch until he lifts above you and, taking the hand that was by your head, tuck it down between your legs. You let him grasp around with spread fingers where you are wet, where his cock rocks into your body, watch as that pulls him apart faster with dark eyes, before pressing his thumb against your clit. 

There, you say without words. There is where I need you.

Once, twice, he circles – he can feel the tightness in his back already settling in, his jaw fixed and locked, his body battling the two overwhelming sensations of dull pain and fierce, wild pleasure – and you hit your release and you soak him in it. 

He falls then too, falls just as hard and as fast as you, the chronic pain he holds in his shoulders, his neck, his back, his knee fleetingly gone in the rush of heat that branches out of his body from his groin and it feels divine.

When he lies on top of you, face buried in the curve of your neck, the heat from your humid skin warming up the breath in his lungs, the throb of your body matching his, his mind wiped clean, the thought occurs to him:

It’s not silence he’s found with you, it’s quiet. 

It’s peace.

Eventually, some awareness seeps back into his trembling body and he rolls off of you, but takes the curve of your jaw in his hand as he goes. He can’t settle into the pillows because he can’t stop kissing you, love bites occasionally against your lip, as if where his body fails, he proves his love for you won’t end so easily.

Eventually, you press your fingers into the base of his skull and, like a reset button, he groans and drops onto his back. 

Eventually, the quiet returns. Only soft noises, murmurs of existence outside of this perfect little room, fill the space. 

Eventually, he falls asleep with you curled up next to him. 

He knows you love waking up in bed together, but he also knows you love fresh coffee even more. 

Which is where Ellie finds him the next morning. 

He nearly adds too much ground coffee to the pot because he’s distracted, lost in thought about the way your curves looked in the bright morning light, when the back door slams open and a little creature made of entirely scarves, mittens, and an oversized purple jacket stomps into his kitchen and clomps its snowy shoes on the rug. 

“Joel, we gotta go!” She’s a little breathless, red-cheeked too as she unwinds the scarf around her head and her face is revealed. “We don’t wanna miss it!”

“Miss what?” Joel asks, this time carefully measuring how much water the pot needs. 

His question is not met with her usually buzzy chatter. Instead, she’s stopped undoing her scarf and just stares at him like he’s been beamed down from another planet. 

He realizes all too late that he’s still in PJs at 9AM (basically a sign of another apocalypse), he’s making more coffee than just for himself, and he’s smiling. 

Shit.

“Ellie, um, I –,”

She rolls her eyes. Her scarf is flung off her neck and she starts yanking off her gloves, her plucky attitude back, if not a bit smug.

“Get your girlfriend up too. They’re lighting the big tree in town square in an hour. I know she’d be pissed if she missed it.” 

So definitely caught. Time to be “The Adult” here and put it out on the table. 

“Don’t call her that.” Joel eyes her. Coffee percolating, he grabs a slice of bread and Ellie’s favorite jam. “Makes it sound like we’re fourteen.” 

She frowns at him, classic “pouty-mouth”. 

“I’m fourteen — rude. But seriously, and I say this because I care, get over yourself. Call a spade a spade. You’re dating her, fucking her–,”

“Ellie!” 

"– and you make gross ga-ga eyes at each other when you think I’m not looking."

She slides into the seat at the island in front of him as he pushes the toasted bread with jam across the marble to her. She takes a bite, chews with her mouth open, and shrugs. “That’s a girlfriend, dude.” 

Joel turns back to the eggs that might be burning, his shoulders hunched and fist tight around the spatula. Hate it when the kid is right. 

He salvages what he can of the eggs, plates them along with two strips of bacon on two plates, and balances a mug of coffee on each. He tries to salvage some of his dignity with a glare. 

“When you’re older, you’ll see some things just don’t need labels.” 

At that, she rolls her eyes again and snatches up the last strip of bacon from the folded, greasy napkins. “Whatever, you dork.”

Argument soundly lost, he gathers up the plates and heads back up stairs. She’s still mumbling to herself as he goes. 

“'Girlfriend', pfft . . . much better than fuck bunny!” She yells to no one in particular.

You hear the entire conversation from bed, the door cracked open enough for the sound to travel. Muffling a giggle, you snag his white shirt from the floor and draw it over your head. You should probably be more embarrassed that Joel got caught in his Walk of Shame, even if it was to his own kitchen to make breakfast. But . . . you’re just not. 

The smile is still on your face when his footfalls approach the door and he sticks his head into the room.

“Sounds like we’re busted,” you smirk. 

Joel almost chuckles. “'Bout as busted as you can be.” He hands you one plate and sits on the end of the bed with his own. He takes a low, slow sip of coffee and you follow him. The eggs are nibbled at and the bacon is perfectly crunchy.

“So . . . girlfriend?” 

He rolls his eyes. “Not you too.” 

“I mean," you slip the plate and coffee onto the bedside table, then hug the sheets around your knees, "I agree with you on the bit about labels. It seems silly. And not wasteful silly. Just . . .”

“Silly.” Joel’s eyes are as dark as his coffee, warmer than it too. “Doesn’t really capture the whole thing, does it?”

An apocalypse and a half later, and a boy’s sweet eyes on you can still make your stomach swoop. 

“No, it doesn’t.” 

“Then what do you wanna say, if people start askin’?”

You bite your lip, eyes up in faux-thought. “Truth be told, I'm kinda partial to fuck bunny. Cute like with a little tail and ears —,"

The groan from Joel and subsequent head shake makes you laugh enough for you to take pity on the old guy. You crawl closer and his eyes slip from your face to where the sheet tucks under your knees. But a hand on his cheek returns his gaze.

"I like what you said last night." Your smile is soft, pleased. "That I’m yours. Like you’re mine.” 

Joel’s warmth bleeds from his whole frame as he leans in close to put his mug on the bedside table, then leans in closer still to you. He drags his nose over your bare, exposed shoulder, in a way that is sweet and sensual all at once. He stops with a kiss on the hinge of your jaw. 

“I like that too. I like saying that you’re mine.”

Ignoring the shiver that rockets up your spine at the low hum of his voice, the flutter of his lips barely against your cheek, you tuck an errant curl around his ear and it immediately springs back up again. You smile and he smiles back, a youthful shine in his eyes.

“Wherever you are, I am too.”  

Listen to: I am the forest by Willie Nelson

[celiababy]

already in love w ur page! i would love to see dads bestfriend joel from you!!

hi! thank u sm!! and ofc coming right up on a very hot and steamy platter 😛

Not Your Daddy

Pairing: Pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You're back from your first year at college. You've changed and Joel is quick to notice.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT MDNI, age gap (36/19), swearing, p in v, size kink, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (fem!recieving) no Sarah, alcohol

Celia's note: Heres jus a lil something :) (not proofread sorry) also part 3 of ain't right is coming so so soon I promise!!

Joel Miller and your father were good friends.

When you and your dad moved in next door a little over three years ago, they hit it off quickly. Their tendency to take on random jobs for cash is what bonded them. Also sports.

You were shy then, never able to hold eye contact and always avoiding him whenever he was around.

But thankfully, you've grown into a woman. Your first year at college changed you.

Now, you were back for the summer, eager to sleep in your own bed and spend time with your home-town friends.

But honestly, you were most excited to see Joel.

You wanted him to see how much you've grown. See how mature you've become, how confident.

You always had a little crush on him—mostly because he was the kindest out of all your dad's friends.

You also wanted him to be the one to pop your cherry.

You were a virgin, and kinda always fantasized about Joel being the one to take it from you.

Sure, you’ve done some stuff with guys, but never gone all the way. You were saving that for him.

You knew it wouldn't take long until he made an appearance.

Your dad had offered to host a small get-together to celebrate you being back. He would barbecue in the backyard and hold bets for the basketball game.

It was really just an excuse for him to break out the grill and gamble, but you didn't care. Only because you knew Joel would be there.

You even put on your shortest white sundress and blew out your hair for the occasion.

Your body was buzzing with the idea of seeing him again.

You wondered if he had changed at all.

Your mind started spiraling at the thought.

What if he had changed? What if he was dating someone now? What if he was engaged?

You glanced in the mirror at your nearly perfect reflection and suddenly felt so silly. What if this was all for nothing?

You didn't have long to ponder that thought because the doorbell rings.

You peak out your window and see Joel's truck in the driveway.

Your dad answers the door downstairs, the faint murmur of voices distracting your ears.

The anticipation was gnawing at you like a hungry dog.

After collecting your nerves, you slowly descend the stairs to meet them in the kitchen.

The loud cussing gave away their location. "You've lost your damn mind if you think there's a chance in hell the Privateers of all fucking teams are gonna beat—oh, hey darlin'," Your dad greets you, clearing his throat like he wasn't just cussing out Joel.

His back is to you, but when he turns around, your heart fucking ignites.

He's just as handsome as the day you left. He looks momentarily stunned by you, his eyes flickering all over your figure. God—how was it possible for someone to change so much? You looked more than amazing.

He immediately feels ashamed for basically checking you out in front of your dad, his eyes snapping back up to your face.

"Christ kid, they feedin' you up there at A&M?" He teases before stepping in for a hug.

He even smells the same as he did all those months ago, pine and smoke. You feel relieved.

It seems like the only thing thats different about him is a few gray hairs.

"Hey Joel," you greet with a giddy smile, hugging him back and relishing in his warmth. "How are you?"

Joel is very surprised. He almost doesn't recognize you. You're so much more...more.

"M'alright, aside from the fact that your dad's gonna give me a fuckin' aneurysm one of these days."

You laugh and shake your head. "Fighting about the game tonight?"

"Yeah, this fuckin' asshat thinks the longhorns might lose tonight—messin' up the whole fuckin' mojo," Your dad rambles, his voice beginning to raise before the doorbell rings again. "I'll get that, need to get away from this traitor." He snorts before heading to the door and leaving you both alone.

Joel rolls his eyes before landing his gaze back onto you and your cute little sundress. He crosses his arms over his chest and turns to face you with his body.

"You behavin' up there at school?" He asks light-heartedly, though you find it excruciatingly hard not to reply in some suggestive way.

"Mhm," You hum unconvincingly with a charmingly guilty smile, holding back a laugh.

Joel cocks a brow, pretending to look at you judgmentally. "Lyin’ is a sin, y’know." He huffs, a smile creeping on his lips.

“I’ve been good, just a lotta temptations s’all..” You murmur softly, your body naturally drifting closer to Joel by swaying on your feet.

The tension in the room is palpable.

“Oh yeah?” He tilts his head the tiniest bit to the side, his voice dropping what seemed like several octaves.

In fear of your voice cracking when giving a verbal response, you opt for a nod of your head, but then shrug just to tease him.

He glares at you but then scoffs, shaking his head.

"When'd you become such a little shit-stirrer, huh?" He chides, reaching over to ruffle the top of your hair.

You laugh before pushing his hand away, your fingers lingering on his wrist for longer than it needed to.

His skin is warm, he's almost hot to the touch. You're having a very hard time tearing your eyes away from his face.

All the sudden, your father calls you into the other room.

"Get in here! Max and Ruby wanna hear about your classes." Max and Ruby being your neighbors who had undoubtedly stopped by for the party.

You peer up at Joel, your eyes almost begging him to ask you to stay. But instead, he gestures with his head for you to listen to your dad.

"Go on now," He husks out, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

Reluctantly you leave him behind in the kitchen, your body still whirring with the adrenaline high you got from just talking to him.

***

It was nice seeing everyone that stopped by for the party. You hadn't realized how much you missed your people.

But Joel was making it hard to concentrate on conversation when you guys were playing eye-tag the entire night.

He really couldn't help himself. There was just something so magnetic about you now—it was impossible to tear his eyes away.

He watched you talk to some of your high school friends, then get up to fetch something from the kitchen.

He couldn’t stop his gaze from falling to your ass once you turned around, his cock twitching in his pants because of the way your dress taunts him with its length.

He clears his throat.

Fuck was he thinking.

This was you he was ogling for christ sake. His best friends daughter.

These thoughts were not allowed. He needed to shut this down.

But the night goes on anyway, people getting more drunk and rowdy with each passing second.

Especially your father, who was currently in a screaming match with his work buddy about the game. They're all crowded around the small box tv in the kitchen, intently watching the tiny screen.

You're watching them from afar, amused by your father and the absurdity of it all.

"Ah fuck, we're outta ice," your dad groans, lifting up the empty bowl in annoyance. "Alright, one of you sons of bitches needs'ta make an ice run, m'not missing this game."

Joel groans out, dragging his hand down his jaw. "We're obviously gonna win—the team's up 46. Make the damn run yourself." He berates your father, who in turn just shakes his head and waves a dismissive hand at Joel.

"Every time I don't watch the game to completion, we fuckin' lose. M'staying riiiight here."

"Fuckin' superstitious bastard." Joel groans from under his breath, picking up his truck keys from the counter. "You want some more beer while I'm out? Maybe my liver too? God knows you need a new one, goddamn alcoholic."

You're laughing at them in the corner, finding their banter extremely amusing.

Then, you suddenly realize this might be your chance to spend more alone time with Joel.

You lurch forward, quickly blocking his path. "Can I come with?"

He looks down at you, a barely noticeable smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He's just about to reply to you before your drunk father cuts in.

"Ya, go with him, he can't carry the ice by himself or else his back’ll give out."

Joel turns his head to yell at your dad. "Shut your damn mouth," he barks, then turns back around to face you, placing his hand on your lower back. "'Course sweetheart, c'mon."

The drastic change in his voice when he talks to you versus your father makes your heart flutter.

He guides you outside to his truck, only dropping his arm from your back when he opens the passenger door for you.

Hopping inside, you settle yourself into the worn down bench seat. Your eyes follow him as he rounds the front of the vehicle, swinging open the driver side door and cranking the engine.

His old country music starts blaring from the speakers of the car, accompanied by the loud drum of his engine.

He’s quick to whip out of the driveway, steering with one muscular arm on the wheel.

You want to drool at the sight—you know your other lips most certainly are.

"So, you got a boyfriend up there at school?" He asks after clearing his throat.

He wants to subtly test the waters, whether he knows it now or not.

You smile, the thought of dating any guy besides Joel was laughable.

"Nope. They're all kinda gross."

"Gross? Yeah, well, most guys your age are." He mumbles, thinking back to his late teens, early twenties—Yikes.

"What about you? Got a woman yet?" You ask, following his line of questioning.

Joel scoffs, keeping his eyes trained on the road. “Does it look like I got a woman in my life?”

He looks down at himself for a second to get his point across, making you follow his gaze.

His wrinkly navy shirt had paint stains on it, his jeans were so old, they looked one wash away from disintegrating, and his beard needed a trim.

You try to stifle your giggle by turning your head away. “Yeah, guess not.”

Your mind starts wandering off, imagining what being Joel's woman would look like...having dinner together...sharing a bed...showering together...

God you wanted to be his girl so bad.

You hear yourself speaking before you even know what you’re saying. “Maybe I can help you—y'know, find a woman n’all.”

Joel casts you an assessing glance, cocking his eyebrow.

“Oh yeah? N’how would you do that?”

He doesn’t even mean to sound sexy but the way he talks makes you wanna melt.

“Well, for starters, a haircut might do you some good.” You tease, scooting closer to him on the bench seat to fiddle with the overgrown hair by his neck.

The way your body is turned to face him gives Joel a clear view down the front of your dress, the skin of your breasts making his cock twitch.

“What’re you talkin’ about? My hair looks great.” Joel knows he’s lying, but he just wants to see you laugh.

Which you do. “Yea, maybe to a blind chick.”

“Oh, you got jokes, huh?” Joel chides, using his free hand to come up and playfully tug at your hair.

You erupt in giggles, swatting his hand away while simultaneously trying to tug his hair back.

Eventually, you two stop messing with each other, but you reiterate that you're serious.

"I mean it—it’d be super fun giving you a make-over."

Joel pulls into the gas station and shifts his truck into park.

"You've lost your damn mind if you think I'm gonna let you get anywhere near my head with clippers."

You roll your eyes and giggle, following him out of the vehicle.

"C'monnn, it'll be fun!" You squeal, trailing behind him as he walks into the store, the bell chiming as you both enter.

He pretends to ignore you, walking along the isles to the freezer section.

"I'll be super careful," You muse, snagging a bag of skittles from off one of the shelves before he can notice.

“I promise I won’t fuck up your cut.” You joke, laughing at yourself.

“Hey—watch it.” Joel warns when hearing your profanity, snapping back to look at you, only half-joking.

You roll your eyes—it's ironic coming from him who cusses like a sailor. You brush past him as he opens the freezer, letting your back lean against one of the glass doors, facing him.

"You're not my daddy, y'know. Can't tell me what to do." You purr, a shit-eating grin beginning to form on your perfect face.

Joel feels his blood pressure spike.

You're making this impossible for him and you know it.

His body moves for him before he can stop himself.

After he grabs two ice bags, he closes the freezer and subsequently steps closer to you, popping your personal space bubble.

"You're right. M'not your daddy." He husks, looking down at you and your parted lips. Your chests are centimeters away from each other, and you find yourself holding your breath. “Consider yourself lucky.”

The way he’s looking down at you like prey yet speaking so nonchalantly has your brain spinning. There was definitely an underlying threat in his words.

Before you can respond, he’s turned around and walking up to the register, throwing down a 10 dollar bill and telling the cashier to keep the change.

Science can’t explain the drastic acceleration your heart rate just experienced—but you can.

Joel fucking Miller.

He had to be insinuating something, right?

Your face is hot and so is the rest of your body, stumbling to catch up with him as he walks out the store.

He lugs the ice into his trunk like nothing happened, the tension in his muscles catching your eyes.

Yet, he still comes around to the passenger side, opening the door for you.

Now was your chance to get him back.

You lift yourself up in the truck, purposefully climbing into the bench seat in a way that gave Joel a clear view of your ass—as well as your thong that wasn't really covering much.

His hand clamps down so hard on the car handle that it nearly crumbles under his grip.

You hear him clear his throat before the door slams shut next to you, making you jump a bit.

When he passes in the front windshield, he's shaking his head and dragging a hand down his scruffy jaw. You can't help but giggle at his exasperated expression.

His takes longer to get into the car and start things up this time, trying real hard not to meet your instense gaze.

When he refuses to make eye contact, you huff out a breath and rip open your skittles bag.

This catches Joel's attention.

"You pay for that?"

"...sure." You murmur unconvincingly with a shrug, trying not to smile. "Want some?"

He watches as you pop a few in your mouth, holding out the bag for him.

Begrungingly, he grumbles out a 'yeah' and holds out his palm.

***

The party had fizzled out when you guys returned. There were a few stranglers sitting around and chatting, but for the most part, things seemed to be dying down.

So much for the ice.

Your dad and his friends had migrated to the living room and once Joel put the bags away, he joined them.

He sat on the couch with a grunt, his legs immediately settling into the manspreading position.

You tried not to drool but your mouth was definitely salivating. To avoid moaning just at the sight of him, you head upstairs, the old wood boards creaking beneath your feet.

You don't see it, but Joel's got his eyes on you, following you with his gaze till you're out of sight.

He feels guilty thinking about how much he wants to fuck you when he's literally sitting right next to your father, but he can't help himself.

It's a while before you come back down, when you do, theres a razor in one hand, clippers in the other.

"No." Joel instantly says, shaking his head.

"Yes." You squeal, beaming down at him.

"Awh, go on Joel, you been needin' a clean up." Your dad chimes in, smacking his shoulder. His other buddies encourage it until he has no choice than to give in just so everyone would shut up.

"Fine—fine. Y'all gon' get yours, thats for damn sure." Joel grumbles, stomping up the stairs.

You're laughing all the way up, bubbling with excitement.

"Come down and give us the reveal when you're done!" Your dad screams to which you giggle.

You basically shove Joel into your bathroom, pulling in a stool for him to sit on.

"You better know what yer doin'." He grunts, sitting down on the stool and looking at you with weary eyes.

"Anything I do to you would look better than what you have now."

Joel promptly stands back up when hearing your words, trying to walk away, but you grab onto his arm. "I'm kidding, I’m kidding! I promise I'll do a good job."

You press on his shoulders to sit him down again, your throat running dry when you see the way he’s glaring up at you.

He’s not actually angry—just a bit peeved that he doesn’t have enough self control to stop thinking about fucking you against the bathroom sink.

You start working, none the wiser, bringing the electric razor to his jaw.

Your bodies are close, Joel can smell your delicious perfume and it makes him wanna eat you up.

You start to notice how sometimes his eyes will flicker to your chest, before abrupdtly looking away and clearing his throat.

Your boobs did look great in this dress, maybe you should give him a better view...

The devilish thought pops in your brain and you're acting it out before you know it.

You set the razor down and grab the clippers, stepping around to the front of his body. "May I?" You murmur, not even waiting for his answer before straddling his lap.

You sit on his thighs and Joel feels himself straighten like a board.

“Kid—what do you think yer doin’?” He immediately sputters out, his expression stern.

He’s trying so hard not to look down at where your dress had ridden up from straddling him. He can almost see your cunt, for christ sake.

“Nothin’.” You murmur, bringing your shaking hand up to trim the hair on his jaw. You curse at yourself for not even having the wits to keep calm, you just know your flushed fave is giving you away.

“Nothin’, huh?” Joel reiterates, completely unbelieving as his eyes drag down your body slowly.

Then, everything shifts.

There’s something more assertive in Joel’s demeanor that you can’t quite put your finger on, but you know it’s there.

You feel his calloused hand on your thigh, your body erupting in goosebumps when he travels it up dangerously high. Using his other hand, he grips your wrist, pulling it down and away from his face.

“Doesn’t look like nothin’ to me.” His voice is a low murmur.

You’re both locked in eye contact now, hearts beating in sync.

He hears your breath hitch and sees how your eyes are flashing between his gaze and lips. He knows what you’re after—he’s just not sure if he wants to give in yet.

You, on the other hand, are dying of anticipation. He’s not budging, so you’re left to drag your hips up his lap and press down on the bulge in his pants.

"Girl—" He growls out before his hands come up to stop your waist from moving any further. "You don't know what your doin'."

"Do I have to fucking spell it out for you, Joel?" You rush out, dropping the scissors and latching onto his shoulders. You're panting and your face is pink, a needy/irritated expression woven into your features.

He feels your nails digging into his shoulder blades and sees that desperate look in your eyes—he's done for.

"No, I won't make ya do that f'me, sweet heart." He murmurs before abruptly picking you up from under your thighs.

A squeak of surprise leaves your lips at his effortless display of strength. You swallow your nerves after he sets you down on the counter, lodging himself between your legs.

"But I am gon make you say it."

Is he teasing you?

No, his face looks too serious for him to be teasing.

Oh, maybe he just wants clear clarification.

Your heart swells at his consideration.

Sucking in a deep breath, "I want your dick in my vagina." You giggle out, knowing he was probably expecting sexier wording. Joel smirks, crashing his forehead against yours.

"Yeah? S'that what you want?"

You're nodding against him, smiling wide because you just admitted something that you never thought you would.

"N'have you done that before? Y'know, dick in vagina." He copies your candance, but you stop smiling.

Out of all the fucking questions, that was the one that you didn't want to be asked the most.

You had hoped if you came on strong and flirted like you had done it a million times, he would've just assumed you weren't a virgin.

But the bastard always had to be so careful.

You didn't want him to know because you figured it would turn him off—then all you'd become is his best friend’s daughter all over again.

You knew if you lied he would just sniff it out anyway, but you tried nonetheless.

"...Yea. Couple times."

You watch as Joel's face forms into a 'yea right' kind of expression before he sighs out.

"Why'a lyin' to me, kid?"

You groan, throwing your head back and hitting the mirror with the back of your skull.

"Thats why—I don't want you thinking I'm a kid anymore. M'not. I'm grown. I'm grown and I want..your dick in my vagina."

He scoffs, dragging a hand down in jaw in disbelief. "Lyin' ain’t a good way to show me your grown."

He was right. You hated that he was right.

Your face crumbles because you think you just ruined this whole thing. Yet, Joel's hands come up to cup your face, holding them there a moment before they drift down to rest on your neck.

"S'alright, you're alright. M'not mad at'cha." He reassures, making sure you're looking in his eyes before he continues. "M'flattered sweetheart, I really am but-"

"Please don't say some bullshit like you don't think you're the man for this job because trust me when I say this Joel, you're the only guy I've ever wanted to be with."

You gush out, your mouth a leaky faucet. But Joel still looks conflicted.

You figured now would be a good time to bring out the big guns.

"If you won't do it cus I'm a virgin, I'll just have sex with the first guy I see, how about that?"

Joel's eyes darken and his jaw clenches. Now you've just pissed him off. "Don't manipulate me like that." He says sternly, to which you immediately falter in your confidence.

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that. I didn't mean it." You shake your head at yourself, biting down on your bottom lip. Joel sighs, leaning back but still keeping himself between your legs.

"Look," you start up again, bringing your hand down to hold his muscular bicep. "I've wanted to do this with you for so long. I really want it to be with you. Even if it's just one time, that's okay. Just need you in some way—Joel."

Your voice tapers off into a whisper because his stare intimidates you.

He exhales through his nose before running a hand through his hair and fixing his back to stand up straighter.

"Alright." He huffs, his face looking like he just surrendered in war.

"Alright?" You repeat, hopes high.

"I'll do it," He removes himself from between your legs and slides his grip down to your thighs. "But not right now."

Your heart drops.

"Why not?" You whine like a kicked puppy.

He brings one hand up to pinch your cheek. "Cus your daddy's down stairs, m'not a fuckin' monster." He grumbles before letting go and starting to walk out, but you grab him.

"Fine, but can we at least.." You hop down off the counter and pull him back, kissing him abruptly.

It starts slowly at first, you're both scoping out the scene, but then you get eager.

A tongue slips into his mouth and he returns the favor, his hands finding themselfs back on your hips.

In no time, he has your back up against the wall while he devours your mouth like a man starved. And just as his hand starts sliding up your dress and he's about to go back on his word, a voice comes from downstairs.

"C'mon down Joel, we wanna see the new cut!"

You groan as Joel slips from you, walking back downstairs while wiping his jaw and adjusting the boner in his pants. *** Now it was a waiting game.

Everyone but your dad's friends had left the party; they were just sitting around, watching TV and drinking beers.

You and Joel can't stop making eye contact from the opposite ends of the room. It was like torture not being able to fuck him immediately.

You're quick to conjure up a plan, though.

"Hey dad," you start, twirling a loose thread from your dress around your finger.

"Ya?"

"Didn't they reopen Chambers, like, two weeks ago?" You ask, trying to keep your voice as inconspicuous as possible.

Chambers was the local bar that your dad and his buddies loved to go to. You were just trying to plant a seed.

"Mm, yea, I reckon they did." He sighs out, eyes glued to the TV.

"S'been awhile since we've been there." One of his friends chime in.

"We should go grab a few drinks—I've missed picking up broads from there.." Another friend says, to which your dad promptly hits his arm because he doesn't like that kind of talk when you're present.

Nevertheless, he casts you a questioning glance. "You gon' be alright if we go?"

You try so hard to mask your instant glee. "Oh yeah, I'll be fine! Y'all go n' have fun."

"Alright punkin," They all stand, gathering up their wallets and keys—everyone except Joel. "You comin'?" Your dad asks him.

You glare at him to make sure he understands what you're trying to do.

Joel inhales through his nose before sighing out with a smile. "M'gonna call it a night, boys."

Thank god.

They all grunt and groan in protest, but eventually everyone filters out of the house.

You stand in the door jam and watch as your dad and his buddies file into the car, Joel standing on the porch to wave them off. Words are exchanged between everyone, mostly cussing, as they make their depature.

You both watch as they leave the culdesac, even waiting until you couldn't hear the car engine in the distance before looking at Joel.

Your breath catches in your throat when he turns around to look at you, folding his arms over his chest.

"Sly work." He murmurs, walking forward and forcing you to walk back into the house.

You're not sure why you're so nervous all the sudden.

Because you were pretending to be bold and experienced before, you had no choice but to mask your nerves. Now, that Joel knows the truth, you feel...vulnerable. But in the best way possible.

He backs you into the house before closing the door behind him, his head hanging to look at the ground.

"I had to get you alone somehow." You murmur with a shrug of your shoulders.

It was the truth.

You hear Joel chuckle and watch as he brings his head up to look at you. He's assessing you.

A beat of silence washes over you both.

"You said you would, Joel." You try to say sternly, although your voice wavers because you're scared he might've changed his mind.

"I know what I said." He steps closer, your torso's centimeters apart.

The eye contact is heavy—it feels like an avail against you. But you love it—love him. You're holding back from jumping his bones right by the front door.

"Good." You practically whisper, slowly taking his large hand in yours. You wait until he interwines your fingers before turning around and guiding him up the stairs.

Every creak under his and your feet sounds deafening in the silence between you both.

His hand is sweating, but so is yours.

When you make it to your bedroom, you walk inside and sit on the edge of your bed, gazing up at him.

"How many women have you slept with?" You hear yourself blurt before you can stop yourself.

His lips tighten into a line before he sits down next to you. Your sides are touching, his hands are resting on his knees.

"A few." He grunts, turning to face you. "Lot of 'em forgettable. But this," he gestures between the two of you. "ain't no comin' back from this, you hear me?"

You nod, your hand slipping over his knee. You're trying to trail it higher up his thigh, but he stops you with his hand.

"Need to make sure you know that before we do this. Don't want you regrettin' it later-"

"I won't." You say curtly, only because you know with complete certaintly that there was no way you'd ever regret this.

Everything is still for a moment, the only sound in the room is the both of your breathing. He's staring at you so hard, just waiting for even a hint of hesitation.

But it never comes.

In one swift movement, Joel's lips are on yours, pushing you back into the mattress and settling on top of you.

It makes you dizzy how effortlessly he's making out with you now.

He slots himself between your thighs and you moan at the feeling.

It's embarrassing how little he had to do in order to get you off.

But it's Joel, for christsake—he could just stand there and you'd probably find a way to orgasm at least twice.

It feels like he's engulfing you entirely; his musuclar arms wrapped around you, tongue down your throat, chests pressed together—pure bliss.

Suddenly and devastatingly, he breaks away for just a moment. "Sit up." He husks, to which you immediately oblige.

He lifts your dress up and off, momentairly stunned by the sight of your bare breasts.

"Christ, you're unreal." He groans before latching his mouth onto one of your nipples, using his hand to grope the other one.

You're a mess of moans, but you manage to speak in between. "Take your clothes off too," you whine, pawing at his shirt.

Joel grumbles, taking his time. He strips his shirt off and your hands are quick to latch onto his belt, fumbling with the leather strap but eventually yanking it out of the loops.

His hands come out to steady yours. "Slow down, no rush." He purrs in his texan drawl, making you shiver.

You groan out in frustration, letting your back fall down against the bed again. "You gonna make me wait all summer?"

"If you keep bein' a brat, then maybe." Joel huffs, yanking you back by the legs so he can pull your thong off. He dangles the stringy piece of fabric by his finger, looking at it assessingly.

"Joel!" You squeal, embarrassed. He effortessly holds you down with one hand against your stomach, not letting you swat it away from him.

"This what you go 'round wearin'?" He teases, grinning sharply.

You shrug, all squrimy, prodding him with your legs. "Would it turn you on if I said I wore them for you?"

You almost don't notice when Joel stuffs your underwear into his back pocket because of how drawn you are to his eyes. He's looking at you like a man starved—you love it.

"You been plottin' on me, is that it?" His voice makes your wet hole clench around nothing. He's teasing, but you also feel like you've just been caught.

You definitely weren't as suave as you thought you were.

"Stop makin' fun of me. " You huff with a flustered face, narrowing your eyes at him.

Joel smirks, finally prying apart your legs and taking a good, long look at your dripping cunt. "Christ almightly..." He groans at the sight of you, his cock straining hard against his jeans. "Pretty lil thing."

Your back arches off the bed when you feel Joel's thumb brush against your folds, tantilizingly slow. "Nice n' wet, atta girl." He muses, spreading your lips apart with his fingers.

You wanted to make a joke about him inspecting you like some doctor, but the words died quickly on your tongue when you felt him stroke your clit.

"Joel," You moan, hips squirming impatiently. "Fuck, I need you,"

"You got me, babygirl," Joel murmurs before lowering his head and devouring your cunt completely.

His tongue laps at you with fever, primarily focusing on your aching clit. The sensation nearly makes you pass out, especially when he pushes a finger inside of your hole.

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod," You whine, fisting the sheets so hard that your knuckles turn white.

Having someone eat you out and it being actually enjoyable is one thing, but having Joel Miller eat you out and it being amazing, was blowing your mind.

He didn't even take breathers.

Joel was consuming you like he didn't need air. Soon, you feel another finger stretch you open, then another, until Joel has three fingers smoothly pumping in and out of you.

It quickly becomes all too much for your little brain. "Hmph..fuck Joel m'gonna come," You whine, your hips staggering against his mouth.

He doesn't answer you, in fact, Joel just wraps his musclar arms tightly under your thighs, securing you in place. In this position, you were rendered completely immoveable.

He kept you right where he wanted you.

"Waitwait, shit, Joel," His tongue is relentless, drinking you up like he was dying of thirst in the desert. Tears are forming in the lining of your eyes, the stimulation overloading you.

"Fuck!" You cry, coming completely undone beneath him. Your entire body shakes with pleasure as you finish, thighs squeezing the sides of his head.

Joel laps you all the way through it, humming contentedly against your soaked cunt.

When your body goes limp against the bed, thats finally when Joel lifts his lips off you. His entire face down past his nose is drenched in your juices; the sight makes your stomach flutter.

"Holy fucking shit Joel," You whimper, out of breath, chest heaving up and down. "That was amazing."

Joel lands a couple soft warning pats against your cunt, making you flinch and squirm from overstimulation.

"You cuss like a sailor, y'know that?"

"S'hard not to when you're makin' me feel so good." You're mumbling, wiping at the tear streaks on your face with the back of your hand.

"Mm, I know," He hums in that caring tone, crawling on top of you and placing a few chaste kisses on your lips.

It doesn't take long for your libido to rise again, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and eagerly kissing him back.

You bring a hand down to palm at his boner, giggling into the kiss. He groans at the feeling, rutting his hips into your hand. "Fuck me now please," You say breathlessly into his ear, nipping and licking at his neck.

He scoffs at your enthusiasm.

Finally, Joel pulls his pants off, letting his cock spring free and slap against his stomach.

You're enamoured by the sight of it. Long in length, even bigger in girth. You practically start drooling.

"You got a starin' problem too." Joel grumbles, grabbing you by the jaw and tilting your head up so he can kiss you again.

You chuckle into his lips, breaking away for a moment to speak. "I can't help it. It's handsome..you're handsome." You muse, getting a fist around his cock, managing to stroke it a few times before Joel stops you.

You don't have time to think or argue before he turns you over onto your side, situating himself behind you.

He's spooning you, except his left arm is hooked around your chest and his right has your leg lifted up, allowing his cock to slip between your folds.

Once again, he's got you right where he wants you.

"Joel," You bring your hands up to hold onto his forearm, pushing your ass back into him. "Put it in." You all but demand, trying to desperately grind your cunt on him.

He tightens his grasp on your collarbone, pulling you tighter against his chest. "Keep your leg up baby," Joel mutters lowly in your ear, letting go of your leg to guide his cock to your entrance.

His fat tip prods against your willing hole, making you dizzy with need. He runs his fingers along your folds one last time, gathering up your slick and using it to lubricate his cock.

Your heart is beating a million miles per hour. The moment you had been dreaming of for so long was finally here.

Joel, taking your virginity—your prayers were answered.

Slowly, Joel starts inching his way inside, the stretch making you gasp.

It feels fine at first, just a dull ache, but then it hurts—bad.

You squeeze your eyes shut and grit your teeth, trying to push through the pain. However, your body clenches down on the intrusive appendage, causing Joel to groan out.

It feels good for him, but he's been around the block a few times to know what's happening.

"You okay? I need'a stop?" He asks in that raspy voice of his, to which you immediately shake your head.

"Nonono, god no, don't stop. Just—just ram it in." You say foolishly, making Joel scoff.

"No, sweetheart, as much as I want to—bad idea." He brings his hand back down between your legs, rubbing a few slow circles into your clit. "Just relax and open up for me, thaaaats it," He encourages in that tone that lights fires in your core.

The perfect stimulation on the bundle of nerves made you forget all about the pain, letting your hole ease up a bit.

He takes the oppurtunity to keep breaching you deeper, peppering kisses to your neck and back in the process. His fingers stay glued to your clit, and before you know it, he's half way inside.

Your holding onto him so hard that your nails are leaving imprints on his forearm.

But you're so full of him and it's perfect. You can feel every twitch, every notch, every vein; or maybe you're just convincing yourself you can. Either way, mewls and moans are slipping from your lips and feeding Joel's growing ego.

"You feelin' good sweetheart?" He rasps in your ear, thrusting back and forth till he reaches that half way mark. You nod frantically, craning your neck to face him, desperate for a kiss.

He satisfies your wishes, kissing you slowly and passionately, like everything you've ever wanted.

His dick in you, his tongue down your throat, his arms pinning you to him. Fuck.

But you still want more.

In a shocking move, you slam your hips back against him, burying him all the way inside.

Moans fill your little bedroom, both his and yours, and for a moment, a flash of regret hits you like a truck.

He's big, and it fucking hurts.

But once the initial pain subsides, it’s like ecstasy.

"Fuck—girl, what'd ya do that for?" Joel hisses, tensing up because he's trying not to come fast.

"Couldn't wait," you pant, tears spilling out the corners of your eyes. "Please move." You're pleading because being stationary is somehow even more painful. You squirm in Joel's strong grasp, trying to stop the ache between your legs.

He's no match for you.

In a gentle but swift motion, Joel situates himself on top of you, closing your thighs together and putting them on one side of his body—all while still inside of you.

He cages you in with his big strong arms, looking down at your needy expression as he gradually starts rocking his hips into you. You're twisting your torso to remain looking at him, clawing at his biceps with your nails.

"This how you like it?" He huffs out, the sweat evident on his brow. "Deep n' slow?"

You want to respond to him, but it's hard to because every other sound you make is a moan.

He's so deep and never fails to hit the one spot that just makes you melt.

Opting for a non-verbal response, you nod with fever, gyrating your hips to meet his thrusts.

He chuckles, the sound alone makes you wanna come.

His name slips from your lips like a prayer—Joel finds it so cute because when he hits deep, your voice raises in pitch.

But he's no better, he'd been groaning in your ear since the start of it. He really cant help it, your cunt is like a silky, wet vice molded perfectly for his cock.

Joel lifts one of your legs up to his chest, securing his muscular arm around your thigh to keep it there. He continues he's deep thrusts, only this time picking up rhythm. He also brings his other hand down to lazily rub circles in your clit.

Christ.

Your head lolls back and your eyes roll into the back of your head. The stimulation was insanely perfect and all too much at the same time.

Your body wracks with jolts and spasms—your body trying to cope with everything it's feeling. Joel takes notice, a proud and lopsided smile spreading across his face.

"M'gonna cum," You whine, your body writhing against him with each thrust.

Your pussy is clenching down on him with each piston of his hips, Joel is not far behind you.

He rubs your clit in a way that makes you come undone, your back arching up off the bed and your toes curling from pleasure.

At the same time, Joel picks up his pace, only to pull his cock from inside you and pump it a few times before unloading his seed onto your naked torso.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the heavy breathing coming from the both of you. Joel's staring down at your pussy, entraced with the way your hole is constricting around nothing.

Then, he looks at your face. Your eyes are closed, your lips are parted, your chest is heaving up and down. He's admiring you and all your fucked-out glory.

He brings a hand up to your face, wiping off the tear stains with his thumb. "You alright?" He husks out, looking down at you assessingly.

"M'perfect." You coo, slowly opening your eyes and leaning up to kiss him. Joel returns it, loving the way your mouth opens so readily for him.

He'd have to try it out with his dick next time.

"Can we go again?" You murmur into his mouth, your arms wrapping around his shoulders.

Joel scoffs because he thinks you're kidding. You're not. When he realizes this, he shakes his head in disbelief, pushing you down onto the bed by your shoulders.

"Don't worry, we got all summer."

[pedge-page]

Tommy calls you on the phone and asks if you know where Joel is.

You tell him he's having enrichment time, stuttering through your words as Joel forces his second load deep inside you with a gutteral moan. You stroke his hair affectionately before he continues his pace to fuck some more into you.

[wayward-dreamer]

Secret

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

WC: ~1.1K

Summary: You and Joel try not to push the short window of time you have together before Sarah comes home. (no outbreak!au).

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, swearing, smut: dirty talk, implied (f rec) oral sex, unprotected p in v (wrap it up people), couch sex. Lots of fluff.

A/N: Not sure why it's taken me so long to post a Joel fic, but here we are. I was in my pre/no outbreak domestic Joel feels and this happened. Enjoy! <3

follow @wayward-dreamers-library for notifications of when I post.

You shouldn’t be doing this.

Especially not at this time of day, late afternoon sun rays filtering in from between the blinds and warming your skin. Sarah would be home soon from a friend’s after school, and so would Tommy, no doubt asking his brother why he had left the work site so early. As Joel’s hands softly trailed down your body, rough fingers tugging down the cup of your lace bra and deftly rolling the stiff peak to make that little gasp he loved so much escape your mouth, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him to stop. Not now, not with how he was making you feel. Not when his hard cock was buried deep inside you, pressing that sweet spot that drove you insane, his hips thrusting up from the couch to meet yours as they rolled against him in a deliciously slow pace.

You should’ve changed things up, should’ve started bouncing on his dick in order to chase the release and beat the clock, get out of his house with enough time. And yet, you couldn’t.

With his head resting against your chest where your blouse was unbuttoned, rising and falling with each harsh pant from you, his skillful tongue circling your nipple, your hands combing through his dark strands and holding him close – you could never rush this.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he groaned, heading lifting up to stare deep into your eyes, his pulled up into a smirk as he saw how dark they had become. “Feel so good, this pussy of yours knows how to treat me right, huh?”

“Yeah,” you whimpered, wrapping your arms around him.

His own came around you as you straddled him, his rough-from-hand-labor palms pressed into the soft flesh of your hips as he pulled you close, forehead leaning on yours as he gazed into your eyes. Your lips met his in a searing kiss, moans from each of you  as tongues mingled and sent shivers down your spine as it added to the pleasure coursing through your whole being. His heavy hand cupped your cheek briefly, peering at you through hooded eyelids as his thumb slipped between your lips, your saliva coating the calloused digit before releasing it with a wet pop. A loud moan fell from you instantly as he brought his hand between your undulating bodies, stroking your clit in precise circles, pushing you closer to that blissful peak once more for the day. His fingers and talented tongue had already done their job very well twice, and it wasn’t going to be much longer before he managed to bring you that euphoria again.

“J-Joel, baby, I-I-” you stuttered, a wanton moan cutting off your incoherent speech.

“I know,” he breathed, his voice rough as he looked up at you with those brown orbs you often got lost in. “Ride me, show me what those hips can do, darlin’. Take what you need…”

You rocked harder and faster against him, relishing the burn in your upper thighs just as much as the delectable sting of your walls contracting with each thrust of his impressive girth. The initial leisurely pace kept your release at bay, but the pressure that built low in your belly was too much now; the barrier holding the dam back threatened to break quickly.

“That’s it, baby, that’s it,” his deep timbre rumbled against your collarbone as he left small bites up to your neck. “Cum for me, darlin’, want you to soak my cock.”

His thumb flicked over the bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs a few more times, before a sharp cry of his name escaped you as he pushed you over the edge. A hard tug of his hair between your fingers and your wetness coating him was his undoing, a strangled grunt against your jaw making you mewl in response as you felt his cum fill you up.

A deep, satisfied sigh left him as he sat back, cupping your cheek and bringing you in for a long, passionate kiss. You grabbed his jaw in both hands and pulled him in, the embrace growing deeper as you kept him from tearing his lips away from yours. You were both testing the limits of how much time you had left, knowing very well that you were cutting it close.

You were strangely used to the secrecy, having been meeting like this or one his job sites, your apartment or occasionally your own workplace, for months since he first asked you out at the bar where you met. With anyone else you would’ve questioned if they were serious about you, but not Joel. The man was telling you about his daughter on the first date, explaining how most women got spooked by that fact within the first hour previously. You told him you didn’t scare easy, with the hope to meet her when things got serious between you.

As he laid back against the sofa, smiling up at you as his hands roamed over your skin and reignited the flame within that burned for him and only him, your own palms sliding up and down his broad chest, you knew he was your person. You knew from the way he looked at you, touched you, cared for you. You saw your future in those deep brown eyes you found yourself falling madly in love with. You held your tongue with that confession, knowing it wasn’t the time just yet.

You redressed as quickly as you could, pulling down your pencil skirt from around your waist and buttoned your blouse back up, your work attire completely disheveled from the rigorous love-making  on his leather couch. You felt his gaze on you as you collected your belongings, biting back a huge smile as his arms came around you from behind.

“I’m gonna tell her soon,” he informed you, his tone firm and sure. “This weekend. She’s not going off to any of her friend’s, not that I know of, so it’s a good time to do it.”

“Really?” you asked, letting out a shaky breath.

He sensed your nerves, closing his eyes as he leaned his forehead against your temple.

“She’s gonna love you. I know it.”

You turned in his arms, finally beaming up at him as you pushed yourself into him, kissing him fiercely. A car door closing had you pulling away quickly, slipping your feet back into your heels before walking to the back door as he followed you.

“I’ll call you,” he promised, pecking your lips through the open door.

With one last, sneaky kiss you left, heart beating wildly as you thought about the possibilities for your future with the most wonderful man you had ever known. 

[joelsrose]

First Date? Part 6

Hi my angels, here is a long awaited part 6 xx its a tad bit shorter but i wanted to give you guys somethin as ive been holding out on yall. i love you guys sooo much pls enjoy - there will be another chapter!!

previous chapter

word count: 6k words

The days blurred together in an endless, suffocating loop, stretching out like an expanse of barren land where nothing grew, where nothing changed, where time was both crawling and slipping through your fingers.

You barely left the house. You barely ate. You barely slept.

It was pathetic, really— sulking like a heartbroken girl convinced her world had shattered over a boy, except this wasn’t even that. There had been no confession, no love declared and returned, no sweet promises broken. Just a drunken moment, a slip of the tongue, a feeling dragged into the light and left there to wilt under his silence.

And Joel—Joel hadn’t come to see you. Hadn’t so much as looked in your direction. He was out there, moving through the world, working, speaking, drinking, doing anything and everything except facing what he’d done. A part of you hated him for it. Not just for walking away, but for making you feel stupid for ever believing he might have stayed.

Spring crept in slow and golden, its warmth seeping into the bones of Jackson, melting away the last remnants of winter, softening the air, making the rivers swell and the ground smell of damp earth.

The whole world was moving forward. Days stretched longer, the snow thinned into streams, the buds bloomed against sun-warmed wood.

And yet you remained unchanged, frozen beneath the thaw, untouched by the season’s promise of renewal.

Regret sat thick in your chest, wound tight as barbed wire, pressing sharp against your ribs, scraping with every breath. You regretted it all—getting drunk, speaking too freely, telling him you loved—

No.

You regretted feeling anything for him at all.

Whatever it was—this raw, impossible, consuming thing that had settled deep inside you—it had become something you could neither hold nor rid yourself of.

It pushed and pulled, twisted and tore, made you ache with longing and fury all at once, until the two bled together so thoroughly that you could no longer tell where one ended and the other began.

And at night, when the world quieted and the town lay still beneath the silver glow of the moon, you thought of him.

Spring had arrived, but it had done nothing for you.

˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

You forced yourself out of the house today, dragging yourself from the tangled sheets and the stale air of your room.

It took effort—more than it should have—to pull a brush through your hair, to find clothes that didn’t reek of days spent in bed, to step outside and face the world that had continued to turn without you.

You walked without purpose, without real direction, but your feet knew where to take you before your mind did, leading you down the familiar path toward the stables, toward something steady, something safe.

When you reached the stables, you pushed the door open without thinking, the familiar creak of the hinges breaking the silence. The smell of leather and hay washed over you immediately—warm, steady, safe, like stepping into a memory that wasn’t yours but still felt like home.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the tightness in your ribs loosened, if only just a fraction. Your eyes found Winnie in her stall, the sight of her sending the smallest most fragile flicker of warmth through you.

Your girl. She was still here. Still waiting.

Her ears twitched at the sound of your boots scraping against the dirt floor. You moved toward her and reached for the stall door, brushing your fingers over the worn wood, when a sound stopped you cold.

A click. Subtle, metallic. Deliberate.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat, and for a moment, you didn’t move. Didn’t dare look up. But you didn’t need to. You knew that sound. Knew it better than you wanted to.

When you finally lifted your head, your heart gave a heavy, painful lurch in your chest.

Joel was there.

He sat on the bench against the far wall, half-shrouded in the dim light that filtered through the cracks in the wood. His broad shoulders were hunched forward, his head bent low as he worked the gun in his hands, his fingers moving with an ease that didn’t match the tension carved into his face. His brow was furrowed, his mouth a tight, hard line, his eyes fixed on the task as if he could will away whatever thoughts had followed him here.

He looked good—too good—caught in the kind of light that didn’t seem fair, the soft, golden rays spilling through the gaps in the barn walls, framing him like something meant to be remembered, something holy.

The warmth of the day had coaxed him out of his usual layers, leaving him in nothing but a faded t-shirt that clung to him in a way that made you forget how to breathe. The fabric stretched taut over broad shoulders, hinting at the strength beneath, the sleeves brushing just enough to expose the curve of his biceps, the hard lines of his forearms—a quiet, unassuming display of power he didn’t even seem aware of.

The sunlight kissed his skin as though it had been made for him alone, drenching him in gold, illuminating every ridge and valley of his face, deepening the ruggedness carved into his features by time, by loss, by the weight of things unspoken.

Shadows stretched across his skin, soft and reverent, tracing the faint scars along his forearms like scripture, like devotion, like something sacred.

The weathered roughness of him—the calloused hands, the lines around his mouth that spoke of too many battles fought, too many nights spent awake—only added to the unbearable beauty of his presence. His hair was tousled, unkempt in a way that was careless but perfect, the strands falling over his forehead like they had a mind of their own.

And then he looked up.

It wasn’t just a glance. It never was with him.

His eyes—God, his eyes.

A deep, sin-darkened brown, rich and endless, like the earth after rainfall, like soil warm beneath the sun, like something meant to swallow you whole and never let you go.

They held depth, a heaviness, a sorrow that ran deeper than flesh, deeper than blood, something ancient, something eternal.

They were the kind of eyes that had seen too much, carried too much, and yet they softened when they found you, dark lashes casting shadows against his cheeks, gaze sinking into you like a whispered prayer.

For a moment—just a breath, just a heartbeat—the barn, the sunlit dust floating in the air, the aching hollow in your chest—it all ceased to exist. There was only him.

“Hey,” he murmured, soft and coaxing, a word wrapped in something gentle, something unfamiliar—so distinctly opposite to the man he was, it almost felt like a trick of the light.

Your breath hitched, stomach twisting, and you swallowed hard, tearing your gaze away with a force that nearly unsteadied you, as though breaking eye contact might somehow lessen the hold he had on you. As though not looking at him might make it hurt less.

“Hi,” you muttered, barely more than breath, barely more than sound, your voice catching against the tightness in your throat. You forced yourself to focus on Winnie, on the warmth of her nose beneath your trembling fingers, on the steady rise and fall of her breath.

“How are you?” His voice was soft, careful, like he was stepping onto thin ice, aware that any wrong move could send everything crashing into the freezing depths.

“I’m fine.” The words slipped out too quickly, too sharp, the lie embedded in every syllable. You hated the way your voice trembled at the edges, betraying the knot of tension in your throat. In your peripheral vision, you saw him shift, his jaw tightening, the slight clench of muscle betraying the sting of your tone.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t push, just nodded once—a short, measured motion, his expression unreadable as though bracing himself for the silence that followed.

Then—after what could’ve been moments, or minutes, or an eternity—his voice came again, cutting through the stillness like a blade softened at the edges, quieter this time, barely above a whisper, so gentle you might have missed it if not for the way it curled around you, wrapped tight and unshakable.

"Hey."

It was softer than before, rougher somehow, like it wasn’t meant to be spoken aloud, like it had been pulled straight from something raw and aching inside him.

You shouldn’t have turned. Shouldn’t have looked. But you did. Your heart stammered, stumbled, its rhythm uneven, a weak, faltering thing, as you turned your head just enough to catch sight of him.

"C’mere."

Two syllables. Quiet. Coaxing. His voice held that same impossible ache, that quiet longing, like he was pulling at a thread neither of you had the strength to break.

You didn’t move. You couldn’t move.

His fingers curled slightly at his sides, a subtle motion, barely a movement at all, but somehow it still carried weight, as if the gesture alone had the power to pull you closer, as if some invisible tether had wrapped around you both, dragging you toward something inevitable. His eyes were locked onto yours, deep and dark and unreadable, except—no. No, they weren’t unreadable at all. They were speaking, murmuring, pleading.

"You’re too far away."

The look he gave you—it was unbearable. The weight of it, the sheer intensity of it, the way it stripped you down with nothing but silence.

Your fingers curled against the edge of Winnie’s stall, gripping the rough wood like a lifeline. "I’m fine here," you murmured, the words quiet, forced, barely scraping past the tightness in your chest.

His brow furrowed. A flicker of something crossed his face, there and then gone again, replaced by something unreadable. But then his voice came again—low, rough, frayed at the edges, like a thread pulling taut, like something on the verge of snapping.

"I ain’t gonna bite."

There was something wry in it, something that might’ve made you smile if your ribs didn’t feel like they were caving in. Almost. But even his quiet attempt at humor couldn’t mask the weight in his voice, the guilt clinging to him like a second skin.

And still—you didn’t move.

He exhaled then, the sound quiet but heavy.

Then—soft. Barely more than breath.

"Please."

Before you could stop yourself, before logic or pride could anchor you to the ground, you moved. It was terrifying, how easy it was to move toward him after everything, how little resistance your body put up against the very thing you had sworn to fight.

You didn’t dare look at him, didn’t dare lift your gaze and risk seeing what might be waiting there, because you knew—you knew it would ruin you, that it would be too much, that whatever flickered in his eyes would only make the ache in your chest worse.

You reached the bench before you had the chance to second-guess yourself. You sat stiffly, carefully, deliberately leaving space between you, hands gripping your knees as though keeping them still might somehow keep your heart from threatening to break free from your ribs.

Joel's gun sat forgotten at his feet, abandoned without a second thought, but you could feel his attention locked onto you, unwavering, unrelenting.

You didn’t have to look to know that he had turned toward you, that his body had angled ever so slightly in your direction, that his shoulders had shifted like he was preparing himself for something, bracing himself against a force greater than either of you knew how to name.

Joel noticed the gap you had left. Of course, he noticed. He always noticed.

You saw it in the way his gaze dropped to the empty space between you, in the way his lips pressed into a faint line, in the way something in his expression tightened, just for a second, just long enough for you to catch it before he forced it away.

He didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to. You felt it. The quiet, unspoken wish, the way he longed for you to close the distance, the way he wanted—needed—you to reach for him first.

You saw it in the way his fingers curled loosely over his knee, in the way his shoulders tensed as if holding himself back, as if waiting.

He wanted you to lean into him, to let the warmth of your leg brush against his, to rest your head on his shoulder the way you used to, to fold into him like it was something instinctive, something natural, something you had both forgotten how to live without.

He wanted it more than he would ever let himself admit. But he didn’t ask. He wouldn’t. Because he couldn’t. Because he was the one who had walked away. Because he was the one who had put the distance there in the first place.

You swallowed hard, the tension coiling tighter with every second of silence. Words caught in your throat, heavy and clumsy, and you were scrambling for something—anything—to break it.

“Thanks—” you started, the word barely out before his voice cut through yours.

“Can we talk—”

The two of you froze, words colliding mid-air, tangled and awkward, stumbling over each other in the thick silence that stretched between you.

It was ridiculous, really—how hesitant, how unsure you both suddenly were, as if the past week of distance had left you fumbling, out of sync, two halves of something that used to fit but now felt just a little off-kilter.

Your eyes darted to his, startled, unsure, and found him already looking at you, his brows drawing together ever so slightly, the barest flicker of something indecipherable passing over his face—something caught between an apology and quiet amusement.

Neither of you spoke, neither of you moved, and the moment stretched long, thick with something almost unbearable, something teetering on the edge of too much, until the sheer absurdity of it—the hesitation, the silence, the way you were both acting like strangers—finally broke you.

A laugh bubbled up from your chest before you could stop it, breathless and unsteady, soft around the edges, but real, and the second it escaped, something in him shifted.

His expression changed, subtle but devastating, the lines of his face loosening just slightly, as if the sound of your laughter had reached into some hidden part of him and shaken something loose.

He blinked, slow and deliberate, like he wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, like he had almost forgotten what it sounded like.

His lips parted slightly, caught between surprise and something softer, and for a moment, it looked as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. And then—

He smiled.

Not just a polite smile, not the distant, barely-there twitch of his lips he gave when he wanted to keep people at arm’s length.

No, this was different.

It was crooked and boyish, unguarded in a way that was almost maddening, something warm and reckless and so infuriatingly, devastatingly Joel that it felt like a punch to the chest.

It made him look younger, somehow—not in age, not in years, but in a way that made your throat tighten, in a way that made you ache.

And God, it was so Joel.

That impossible contradiction of him—the man who had lived through more than most could ever comprehend, who carried the weight of too many ghosts, but who could still look at you like that, like he had been caught off guard by something good, something soft, something he hadn’t quite believed he’d get to have again.

It was boyish and rugged, maddeningly beautiful, something both careless and careful all at once. Like an angel who had long since fallen, like a devil who had learned the art of tenderness, like something carved from both sin and devotion.

"Sorry." The word barely scraped past your lips, quiet, uncertain, almost fragile. Heat flooded your face before you could control it, rushing up from your chest, blooming hot beneath your skin, betraying you. And Joel—of course he noticed.

You saw the way his eyes flickered, how they lingered just a second too long, how something in his expression shifted, subtle but devastating, like he wasn’t just looking at you—he was feeling you, imagining the warmth of your skin against his, the press of your body, the way heat lived in your veins the same way it did in his.

Blood with blood. Flesh and bone. It was a fleeting thought, something primal, something dangerous, but it rooted itself deep inside him, settled into the quiet places he tried not to think about.

You dropped your gaze before you could drown in the weight of it, fixing your eyes on the dirt floor beneath your boots as though it held something worth looking at, as though the uneven, scuffed earth could offer you an escape, a place to rest your attention instead of meeting the impossible intensity of his stare.

And then he chuckled, low and quiet, a sound so warm and unguarded that it forced you to look at him, as if your body had decided before your mind had caught up.

He shifted slightly, his shoulders rolling beneath the weight of your gaze, his body adjusting like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself, like you were the thing making him nervous.

And then you saw it.

The faint blush creeping along the edges of his ears.

Joel Miller—this strong, unshakable, impossible man—was blushing.

"Don’t apologize." The words were soft, meant only for you. "You go first."

You hesitated, your fingers clenching slightly against your lap, unsure, unsteady.

And then, softer this time, lower, steadier, his voice curling through the thick air and settling over you like something warm, something solid—

"Go on."

“I, um…” The words caught in your throat, fragile and uneven.

“I wanted to say thank you,” you murmured finally, barely above a whisper, as if speaking them aloud might steal the last of your courage. “For taking me home the other night.”

He froze. The subtle rhythm of his movements—the faint sway of his shoulders, the way his fingers twitched against his knee—stilled completely.

“What?” The single word came low and careful, but you heard it—the faint tremor just beneath the surface.

His head tilted slightly, and his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken, your skin flush. Those dark eyes searched you, narrowing slightly, as if the answer to his confusion might be written somewhere on your face.

Thank me? The question didn’t leave his lips, but it hung in the air between you, heavy and undeniable, his silence thick with thoughts he couldn’t bring himself to voice.

For what? For leaving you when you needed him most? For all the ways he’d failed you, all the promises he’d never kept? The questions burned in his eyes, sharp and unrelenting, but he swallowed them back.

You pressed on, your voice trembling, your fingers curling into the rough wood of the bench to ground yourself. “I don’t…” You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to sound steady even as your chest felt like it might cave in.

“I don’t remember much from that night,” you lied, the words tasting bitter on your tongue, each syllable heavier than the last. “Maria told me you… you took me home?”

Joel looked at you like he was trying to make sense of something, trying to find an anchor in a sea of things unsaid.

“Yeah,” he murmured finally, his voice rough, barely audible. “I did.” His eyes searched yours, dark and intent, like they were trying to pull the truth from you, to find something you weren’t ready to give.

“You don’t remember,” he said, so softly it barely reached your ears.

You don’t remember saying—

"I more than care about you. I love—"

He could still hear it. Still feel it like a ghost against his skin, something whispered, something fragile, something that had hit him so hard it had knocked the breath from his lungs.

And maybe if he were a different man, if he were better, he would’ve stayed. He would’ve let himself believe that you meant it, that it wasn’t just the alcohol speaking, that maybe—maybe—it was something real, something he could hold on to.

But instead—he had walked away.

And now, sitting here, listening to you say you didn’t remember, he wasn’t sure if it was a relief or a knife to the gut.

Because if you did remember, and you were pretending you didn’t, it meant you regretted it.

And if you really didn’t remember—

Then maybe you hadn’t meant it at all.

“You don’t gotta thank me,” he murmured finally, his voice rough, dragged out like it hurt to speak.

A pause. A breath. And then—

“You really don’t remember anything?” The words were quieter this time, almost hesitant, edged with something he couldn’t hide quickly enough.

“No,” you said softly, shaking your head.

The lie burned its way up your throat, scorching and bitter, but you forced it down, swallowing hard as you buried it deep.

“The last thing I remember is being sprawled out on Tommy’s living room floor.” You let out a brittle laugh, sharp and hollow, the sound grating against the stillness like shattered glass. “I must’ve made a fool of myself.”

He looked away, his lips pressing into a thin line as though holding back words he couldn’t bring himself to say.

“I shouldn’t’ve let you drink that much,” he muttered finally, his voice quieter now, almost rough with regret. “That was on me.”

“You didn’t let me,” you said quietly, your voice wavering as you forced a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I made my own choices. I always do.”.

“Right,” he said finally, the word flat, drained of life, like it had been dragged out of him against his will.

God, his eyes. They were dark and intense, warmth swallowed by the storm of frustration and something far more devastating. Something that looked a lot like hurt. Those eyes—deep, unwavering, devastating—held only you, burned into yours with an intensity that felt like it might unravel you, echoing the silent, aching question that sat heavy between you - Why are you lying to me?

“Anyways,” you blurted, the word tumbling out too quickly, too sharp, cracking under the weight of his stare. You risked a glance at him, hoping for a reprieve, but his gaze had already shifted, fixed on some distant point like he could will himself anywhere but here.

“You were gonna say something before?” you asked, the question tentative, your breath catching as you waited for him to answer.

Joel blinked, his jaw tightening for a fraction of a second before he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “Oh. Yeah,” he muttered.

“Tommy and I are headin’ out on a two-day patrol. Overnight,” he said finally, his words slow and deliberate. He hesitated, his voice faltering before finishing softly, “So… I won’t be here.”

The realization struck you with a force you hadn’t been prepared for, the ache blooming in your chest so sharply and suddenly it felt like the air had been stolen from your lungs.

Two days.

It wasn’t a long time—not really, not when measured against the steady pulse of Jackson’s days or the quiet, unspoken permanence of the life you’d built here—but the thought of him out there, beyond the gates, scraped against something raw, something tender, something that ached before it even had the chance to bruise.

“Right,” you said, your voice quiet, brittle, as you fought to keep it steady. You forced a shrug, hoping it looked nonchalant, but it felt like it might shatter you. “Well… be careful, I guess.”

He watched you closely, his gaze fixed on the way your hands remained tightly clasped in your lap, fidgeting with nothing, refusing to find any anchor beyond yourself. You wouldn’t look at him—not really—and the absence of your gaze, the way you kept your eyes so firmly averted, felt like a hollow ache in his chest that he couldn’t ignore.

“Always am,” he said finally, his voice quiet but steady, though a softness lingered just beneath, barely there but impossible to ignore.

His mind, unbidden and bitter, dragged him back to just a week ago, to a version of you who might’ve thrown your arms around his neck without a second thought, laughing as you made some teasing comment about him pulling his back out or grumbling about having to carry Tommy’s weight.

He could almost hear your voice, light and familiar, cutting through the heavy moments like it was nothing, like it had always been your natural gift to lift the impossible weight of the world off his shoulders without even trying.

You would’ve made him laugh, he was sure of it—really laugh, the kind of laugh that didn’t feel like it had to fight its way past the hardness of the life he carried.

A thought, wicked and insidious, placed there by the devil himself—selfish, desperate, utterly inappropriate for the fragile tension strung between you—urged him to kiss you, to press his lips to yours and steal away the hurt, to show you, not with words but with touch, just how much he needed you.

But all he could do was sit there, helpless and aching, watching as you pulled further away, retreating into yourself like a tide slipping from the shore, leaving nothing but emptiness in its wake.

And before he could stop himself, before the rational part of his mind could scream loud enough to pull him back from the reckless, selfish thing he was about to do, his hand moved.

It wasn’t planned, wasn’t even something he thought about—it just happened, slow and deliberate, like instinct had taken over, like it was something he was meant to do all along.

His fingers found your cheek, rough and calloused against the softness of your skin, the contrast so sharp it made his chest tighten, made something deep and aching bloom in the space between you.

His thumb moved, treacherous and traitorous, dragging slowly along the curve of your jaw, tilting your face toward him with a reverence that felt almost sacred.

It was a betrayal of everything he’d been trying so hard to hold back, an admission he hadn’t meant to make, but he couldn’t stop himself now. His breathing hitched when your lips parted, soft and uncertain, the warmth of your stuttered breath brushing against his fingertips like a quiet plea, like something unspoken passing between you.

And still, his thumb moved again, dragging over your bottom lip this time, so slow, so careful, as if he were trying to memorize the feel of you beneath him, as if this tiny act of closeness could somehow soothe the ache that had settled so deeply in his chest. It was reverent, desperate, dangerous—a quiet, trembling act of defiance against the walls he’d spent so long building.

His heart hammered against his ribs as his thumb lingered there, just a moment longer than it should have, and when your throat bobbed, when your breath stuttered again, he felt his control slipping further, felt himself drowning in everything he wasn’t supposed to want.

"Be good," he murmured finally, his voice low and rough, breaking under the weight of everything he couldn’t bring himself to say.

"Take care of yourself while I’m gone," he added, quieter this time, almost too soft to hear, and the words felt like they cost him something, like each one dragged a piece of him out with it. And then, as if the act of speaking hadn’t already been enough to break him, he swallowed hard and breathed, "You need anything, you go to Maria, okay?"

You didn’t answer—not right away, not in the way he had hoped, in the way that might’ve made this easier. Instead, you just breathed, sharp and uneven, the weight of it pressing into the space between you, thick and suffocating.

And then, finally, slowly, like it physically pained you to do it, you shifted back, putting distance where there had been none. His touch slipped from your skin, his thumb no longer caught in the trance of you, no longer resting against the softness of your lips.

And because the silence threatened to swallow him whole, because he couldn’t bear the ache of it anymore, he did the only thing he could—he stood abruptly, the old wooden bench groaning loudly under the force of his movement.

It was sharp, unsteady, almost frantic, like he was trying to outrun whatever had settled between you. He reached for his rifle, grabbing it with more force than was necessary, slinging it over his shoulder in one quick motion, his jaw so tight it sent a sharp ache through his teeth.

"Well," he muttered finally, his voice low and rough, barely carrying the weight of the words. "I better get goin’."

You nodded once, a quick, small movement, like it was all you could manage.

Joel stood there for a second too long, hesitating, his fingers twitching slightly at his side like they wanted to reach for you one last time, like they couldn’t help themselves.

But then he forced himself to move, his steps slow and deliberate, each one feeling heavier than the last as he turned and walked toward the door.

The stable door groaned under Joel’s weight as he pushed it open, the late afternoon sun spilling in behind him in a flood of warm, golden light. The glow caught on the edges of his frame, outlining the broad cut of his shoulders, the curve of his neck, the tousled strands of his hair that curled just slightly in the heat. It painted him in shades of amber and firelight, casting uneven shadows across the dirt floor that stretched like reaching hands, as though the room itself couldn’t bear to let him go.

He paused there, one hand resting against the weathered wood, his fingers curling slightly into the grooves of it, as if something unseen was holding him back, as if leaving was harder than he’d expected it to be.

For a moment, you thought that was it. That he’d go. That he’d step into the light without another word, without sparing you a second glance, and leave you here, drowning in the ghost of his touch, in the heavy, suffocating ache of all the things you’d left unsaid.

And then, slowly, deliberately, he turned.

"Hey."

His voice was soft, a low, steady warmth that slipped through the silence like a balm, untying the knots that had coiled themselves so tightly in your chest.

You blinked, swallowing hard, dragging yourself out of the spiral that threatened to pull you under. “Yeah?”

"We’re okay, aren’t we?"

"Yeah. We’re good."

It was a lie. A terrible one. And the worst part was that you both knew it.

Joel’s jaw twitched—just the slightest flicker of movement, but it was enough. Enough for you to know he felt it, the weight of your dishonesty settling between you like a lead weight. He didn’t believe you. Of course, he didn’t. And you knew he didn’t. You saw it in the way his fingers curled slightly at his sides, in the way his chest rose with a slow, measured breath like he was holding something back, in the way his eyes stayed locked onto yours—steady, dark, searching.

And still, he didn’t call you on it. Didn’t say a word. He just stood there, staring at you, seeing you in that way only he ever did, like he could read every thought before you could even voice it, like he could reach inside you and pull out the truth no matter how hard you tried to bury it.

"Alright."

He turned then, his boots scuffing against the dirt as he stepped toward the open doorway.

And then—just like that—he was gone.

So quick. Too quick. Like a shadow disappearing the moment you tried to grasp it, slipping through your fingers before you could hold onto anything solid.

A shiver crawled up your spine as you stared at the empty space where he had been, something cold and unreal settling deep in your chest. It was dizzying, disorienting—had he even been here at all? Had you imagined the weight of his touch, the way his voice had softened, the quiet devastation in his eyes? Or had you conjured it out of thin air, a cruel trick of your own longing, your own inability to let go of something that had never truly been yours?

You weren’t a religious woman. Never had been. But there, in the quiet of that stable, with the last remnants of Joel’s presence still lingering in the air, you fell to your knees. Your body moved before your mind could catch up, before logic or pride could stop you, before you could convince yourself that it wouldn’t make a difference.

Your elbows braced against the edge of the bench where the two of you had sat only moments ago, your hands clasped together so tightly that your knuckles ached, and you begged.

Not to anyone in particular, not to anything you truly believed in, but to something—something holy, something divine, something greater than yourself.

You begged for the hole in your heart to heal, for the ache in your chest to ease, for the unbearable weight of loving him to lift from your shoulders.

You begged for the strength to let go, for the kind of peace that had always eluded you, for the impossible relief of forgetting what it felt like to need him. And, most of all, you prayed.

You prayed that he would come back safe.

And you prayed that one day, somehow, you would be able to stop loving him.

:) or :( guys comment down below

tag list:

@bbyanarchist @kanyewestest @locked-ness @bambisweethearts @pedritospunk @ickearmn @joeldjarin @disco-barbiexx @sherrye22 @vxrona @ashhlsstuff @dendulinka6 @ashhlsstuff @r4vens-cl4ws @divineangel222 @jasminedragoon @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @handsintheeaire @jaxmom66 @ashleyfilm @kateg88 @tigerlillyyy

@jethrojessie @eddiemunsonsbedroom @flowerydindjarin @anoverwhelmingdin @oscarpiasstri81 @tldix @grumpygrumperton

@dendulinka6 @agnus04 @tigerlillyyy @vampiredoggies-blog @julwar67 @kateg88 @martuxduckling @guessitwillallworkout @anoverwhelmingdin @thottiewinemom @keepspassinmeby @disco-barbiexx @emisprocrastinating @cuteanimalmama @moulinrougcs @lottieellz101 @laliceee @grumpygrumperton @meet-me-backstage @spacegirl-3 @nixpat-blog @martuxduckling

@materialgirl-97 @valkyreally @suzysface @ro-nahime-things @spacelatinos4life @churchofjoemiller @peepawispunk @materialgirl-97

[thesecondhandwoman]

𝑻𝑶𝑶 𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑬, 𝑻𝑶𝑶 𝑺𝑶𝑶𝑵

Abby x f!reader

Synopsis: Years of being best friends with benefits, you grew feelings, but became heartbroken when Abby confessed that she liked Owen. She had only realized her mistake when she suddenly became fully alone.

You had always been close to Abby. Ever since the beginning, when the world turned upside down, when survival became the only thing that mattered, you had each other.

It started off as friendship—one of those rare, genuine connections that felt like safety in a world where nothing else was. But friendship wasn’t always enough, not when nights got cold and the weight of the world pressed too hard against your shoulders. So, when Abby needed an escape, when her muscles ached from training or her mind was clouded with frustration, she came to you.

And you let her.

It wasn’t love. Not really. At least, that’s what she told herself. But for you? It was something like it.

You never said it, never pushed for more, because what you had was enough. Or at least, you convinced yourself it was. Having Abby in any way was better than not having her at all.

But then Owen came back into the picture.

You saw it happen in slow motion. The way Abby’s gaze lingered a little too long when he was around. The way she softened when he joked, even though his humor wasn’t all that funny. The way she seemed more distracted when she was with you, like she was already halfway somewhere else.

She was still coming to you, still seeking you out when she needed to let off steam, but something was different. There was a distance in the way she touched you, a hesitation in the way she held you afterward. Like she knew this couldn’t last.

And maybe you had always known that, too.

But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

One night, after a long day of training, Abby showed up at your door, as she always did. She didn’t say much, just pulled you in, her lips desperate against yours, her hands rough but familiar. It was supposed to be like every other time. Just an escape. Just something easy.

But when it was over, she stayed silent for too long, her fingers twitching like she wanted to say something she couldn’t bring herself to voice. And then, in the quiet, it slipped out.

“I think I love him.”

You felt it like a punch to the gut.

You swallowed, pushing down the ache in your chest, forcing a small, bitter smile. “Yeah?” you murmured, turning onto your side so she couldn’t see your face.

Abby sighed, her breath warm against the back of your neck. “Yeah.”

You knew she hadn’t meant to hurt you. That didn’t make it hurt any less.

She didn’t say it, but you could feel it in the way she curled into herself, in the way her hands flexed like she wanted to reach for you but knew she shouldn’t. This was the beginning of the end.

Maybe it had always been coming. Maybe you had always been waiting for this moment, hoping it wouldn’t happen but knowing deep down that it would.

You turned back toward her, just enough to look her in the eye, and forced yourself to smile. “I hope he makes you happy,” you said, and the worst part was that you meant it.

Because you loved her.

And love, in the end, meant letting her go.

The days blurred together after that.

You still saw Abby. She was still in your life, still part of your routine, but something had shifted. Maybe it was her, maybe it was you—maybe it was the way your heart clenched every time she laughed at one of Owen’s jokes or the way she lingered near him like she used to linger near you.

So, you started pulling away.

At first, it was subtle. You trained with her less, gave excuses when she asked if you wanted to spar or go on a run. You skipped meals here and there, not intentionally at first—just too distracted, too exhausted to stomach food. But then the ache in your chest became a little easier to ignore when you were hungry, when your limbs felt heavier, when everything was just a little too much.

It helped, in a way. Made everything quieter.

You stopped seeking her out. If she didn’t need you, why push? Why keep pretending like you were okay when you weren’t?

The fights became harder, not because the enemy got stronger, but because you did everything slower. Your body felt sluggish, like moving through thick fog, and every punch you threw lacked the force it once had. You took more hits. Fell harder. Bled more.

But that was okay.

Because maybe if you hurt enough, it would make the ache inside you hurt less.

Maybe if you gave up enough, you wouldn’t feel anything at all.

You weren’t sure how long it took for Abby to notice, but she did.

You were coming back from a mission, dragging your feet as you made your way through camp, when you heard her voice behind you.

“Hey.”

You froze for a second but forced yourself to keep walking. Maybe if you ignored her, she’d let it go.

She didn’t.

“Hey,” Abby called again, jogging up beside you, eyes scanning your face. You kept your expression blank, but she frowned, gaze flicking down to the fresh bruise blooming on your jaw, the sluggish way you were moving.

She knew you too well.

“You’ve been off lately,” she said, crossing her arms, voice firm but laced with something softer. Concern. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” You didn’t stop walking.

“That’s bullshit.”

You swallowed hard, keeping your gaze forward. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Abby.”

“I want you to tell me why the hell you’re acting like this.” She reached for your arm, forcing you to stop. “You’re barely eating, you’re getting your ass kicked in fights you should be winning, and you look like you haven’t slept in days.”

You clenched your jaw, the exhaustion weighing heavier on you now that you had to actually talk about it.

“Are you sick?” she pressed, stepping closer, voice quieter now. “Did something happen?”

You almost laughed at that. Yeah, something happened. You fell in love with your best friend, and she fell for someone else.

But you couldn’t say that.

So, you just shook your head. “I’m fine, Abby.”

She let out a sharp breath, frustration bleeding into her features. “No, you’re not. You’re shutting me out.”

A bitter smile tugged at your lips as you finally looked at her. “Yeah,” you said, voice hollow. “I am.”

Abby stared at you, something flickering behind her eyes. Hurt. Confusion. And maybe, just maybe, regret.

But it was too late for that.

You gently pulled your arm from her grip and took a step back.

“You don’t need me anymore, Abby,” you murmured. “So just let me go.”

And then you walked away, leaving her standing there, silent.

Abby didn’t come after you.

Not at first.

You had given her an out, made it clear that you didn’t want to be part of her life anymore. And Abby—who had always been stubborn, who never backed down from a fight—had just let you go.

She told herself it was what you wanted. That it was for the best.

But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

She caught herself looking for you in the mess hall, in training, in the barracks. Sometimes, she forgot and turned to say something to you—only to remember that you weren’t there. That you had chosen not to be there.

And that was her fault.

She knew why. The moment she replayed that night in her head, the words she had said so easily, so thoughtlessly, I think I love him.

She hadn’t even realized. Hadn’t thought about what it might have sounded like to you, hadn’t considered how much you had given her, how much of yourself you had sacrificed just to be near her.

It wasn’t until she lost you that she started putting the pieces together.

But she didn’t chase after you. Not then.

Because she did have feelings for Owen. She had to sort that out first.

And for a while, everything seemed fine. Abby still had Owen. Even with the space between you and her, she had someone to lean on.

Until she didn’t.

The news spread fast.

Mel was pregnant.

Abby felt like the ground had been ripped out from under her when Owen told her. She knew things with him had been complicated, that there had always been unfinished business between him and Mel, but she thought—

She didn’t know what she thought.

But suddenly, Owen was gone. Back with Mel, back where he probably should’ve been all along.

And Abby was alone.

She went through the motions, threw herself into training, into missions, into anything that would keep her from thinking about it too much.

But it was different now.

Because there was no one waiting for her after a long day, no one patching up her wounds or making her laugh when she was frustrated. No one dragging her out of her own head.

No you.

Abby hated how easy it was to miss you. Hated how much it ached when she caught glimpses of you in the camp, when she saw how much smaller you had become, how much dimmer.

She had hurt you.

And maybe, just maybe, she had hurt herself, too.

Because for the first time, she started questioning everything.

The way you had always been there. The way she had always run to you first, before anyone else. The way she had clung to you at night, like you were the only thing keeping her grounded.

Had that been love?

She thought about how easily she had let you go, how quickly she had broken you without even realizing.

And she thought about Owen—how it had felt more like chasing something old, something familiar, than something real.

And suddenly, Abby felt very, very stupid.

You saw her coming before she even called your name.

You had been sitting alone near the edge of camp, picking at the fraying fabric of your sleeve, too tired to do much else. Sleep barely came anymore, food never sat right, and the ache in your chest had long since settled into something dull and constant. You had heard the news about Mel from other people, heard the way they whispered about it, how they glanced at you like they were expecting some kind of reaction.

But you had nothing left to give.

So when Abby showed up, you weren’t surprised.

Of course she was here. Of course she had something to say.

“Can we talk?” Her voice was hesitant, careful.

You exhaled slowly, bracing yourself. You already knew what this was. She was here because Owen had gone back to Mel, because she was lonely, because she wanted someone to comfort her. Maybe part of her even felt guilty, so she came to check on you like you were some wounded animal.

You didn’t want her pity.

“You don’t have to do this, Abby,” you said, voice hoarse from disuse.

She frowned, stepping closer. “Do what?”

“Pretend like you care.” The words came out colder than you meant, but you didn’t take them back.

Abby flinched, but she didn’t leave. Instead, she ran a hand down her face, exhaling sharply. “That’s not—fuck. That’s not why I’m here.”

You stared at her, waiting for her to say whatever she needed to say so you could get this over with.

Abby hesitated, shifting her weight like she didn’t know where to start. “I know I hurt you,” she admitted, her voice quieter now. “I didn’t—” She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “I didn’t realize. I was so caught up in my own shit that I didn’t see what was right in front of me.”

You looked away, jaw clenching. “Abby—”

“No, just, just please let me say this,” she interrupted, stepping closer. She looked tired. More than that, she looked lost. Like she had spent the past few weeks unraveling and didn’t know how to put herself back together.

“I liked Owen,” she continued, voice strained. “I really thought I did. And maybe I did, I don’t know. But he’s gone now, and all I can think about is how stupid I was.” She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Because the second I lost you, it hurt so much worse than losing him ever did.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest, but you kept your face neutral. You weren’t going to let yourself hope.

Abby swallowed hard, her eyes meeting yours. “I think I liked you all along,” she admitted, the words slow and deliberate, like she was realizing it as she said it. “And I was just too stupid to see it.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

You had imagined a hundred different scenarios where Abby came back to you. None of them ever felt real.

But now she was here. Saying this.

And you didn’t know what to do with it.

So you just stared at her, feeling that ache in your chest shift into something else entirely.

You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips as you avoided her gaze. “You don’t mean that, Abby.”

“I do,” she whispered, voice strained.

“No, you don’t,” you said, your tone firmer this time, but there was an underlying vulnerability to it, a crack in your wall. “You’re just saying that because Owen left. You’re lonely, and you think—”

She cut you off, stepping closer, a determined edge in her voice now. “That’s not what this is,” she insisted, her words desperate as they left her lips.

You stopped walking, hands balled into fists at your sides as you turned to face her, heart thundering in your chest. “You don’t get it, Abby. I don’t want to be the person you run to when he leaves. You don’t want me. You want someone. You want someone to fill that space, and I-I’m not here for that.”

Her eyes filled with tears, and for a moment, you regretted your words. But then she stepped closer again, her hands trembling at her sides as she looked up at you with those deep, familiar eyes.

“It’s not about Owen,” she said softly, her voice cracking as she spoke. “It was never about him. It was always about you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and your breath hitched in your throat. You blinked at her, the words hitting you like a punch to the gut. She couldn’t be saying this. She couldn’t—

But she was.

You wanted to pull away, wanted to push her out of your heart because this—this couldn’t be real. You had spent so long shutting everything down, pretending you didn’t care, pretending that you were fine with just being her friend. But in the pit of your stomach, you knew this wasn’t about just some passing moment of confusion.

But she needed to keep going.

Abby stepped forward again, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her eyes frantic with an emotion you hadn’t seen in her before, something raw, something vulnerable. “I didn’t realize it. I didn’t see it for what it was until it was too late. I thought I wanted Owen. I thought I needed him, but when he left… all I could think about was how I had lost you. And I realized how stupid I was.”

The pain in her voice, the trembling in her hands, it hit you harder than anything else she’d ever said. You felt your own chest constrict as your walls slowly began to crumble.

“You’re not stupid,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion, but you couldn’t make yourself step back. No, not this time.

Abby’s face contorted with regret as she stepped even closer, close enough that you could feel her breath against your skin. “I know. I know I hurt you. And I know I’ve been an idiot, but please,” she pleaded, her voice a mere whisper now, “please don’t walk away from me. I can’t lose you again.”

You felt like you were going to break into a million pieces at any moment, the weight of everything, the years of longing, of hiding your feelings from her, finally crashing into you like a tidal wave.

“I-I can’t just be some consolation prize, Abby,” you muttered, your heart racing, your hands shaking as you tried to steady yourself. “I can’t be the person you come to when the one you really want isn’t there.”

“I don’t want someone else, I want you,” she gasped, her voice cracking in a way that made your heart twist. “I always wanted you. I was just too stupid to realize it. Please, don’t doubt that. Please.”

Her words were almost too much to bear, but they were enough. They were enough for you to finally stop holding on to the fear that she didn’t mean it. She did. She was here, raw and broken, telling you everything you had hoped to hear, everything you had longed for.

“Abby…” you breathed, and before you could stop yourself, you took a step toward her. She reached for you at the same time, her hands trembling as they found your arms, pulling you in as she pressed her forehead to yours.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely a sound. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve seen it sooner. I should’ve known.”

Your heart was beating so loudly in your chest you could hardly hear anything else. You closed the distance between you, your hands moving to cradle her face gently, your thumb wiping away the tear that had slipped down her cheek. She looked up at you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, her eyes were filled with something new—something deep and undeniable.

“I love you,” she said again, this time more certain, more sure.

And before you could stop yourself, you pulled her to you.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, like neither of you believed the moment was real. But then it deepened, both of you pressing closer, your lips moving against hers with more urgency, more emotion. Every part of you ached, but it wasn’t from the pain you had been carrying—it was from the sudden release, the flood of warmth that spread through your chest as you let yourself finally believe in this moment.

Abby’s hands slid into your hair, tugging you closer as her body pressed against yours, like she was afraid you might disappear. You pulled her in tighter, feeling her breath in your mouth, her heartbeat against your chest.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured against your lips. “I’m so sorry for everything.”

You shook your head, cupping her cheek. “You’re here now,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of it all. “And that’s all that matters.”

The kiss deepened once more, a soft and tender promise. And as your lips met again, you knew it wasn’t just the pain you had to heal—it was everything. It was trust. It was love. And for the first time in far too long, you finally felt whole again.

A/N: This was probably the longest thing I’ve produced in a hot minute (I just hope it was good).

[astralnymphh]

content: implied slight masochism (slappage), dubcon-ish (alcohol consumption, low spirits, but no advantage is taken), fingering (e!receiving). mdni. discord. kofi.

what consumes my pastimes is the thought of wildwest!ellie frequenting the local brothel—with a burdened heart—who only ever requests your congress and touch, confiding her life's trauma for one another to console, and inflicting pleasure on those softened spots. instead of genuine care in a tough-love town, ellie sought an attachment—that was you, you are her pastime. running a palm up and down her thigh, up an old scar, as she strains out the words, “'m not a good person.” but it pulls you, with a natural courage, to her lips tasting of smoke and scotch and whispering, “don't have to be.” wildwest!ellie who bolts her lids and pantingly fills her lungs, out before the air is in, when your fingers drag out an orgasm for the second or third time—she has no head, nor deliberation for keeping count—on thrashing her puffed-up clit too hard. (if you ignore the continuous begs; her asking you to 'get her done and over with' god forbid she be seen inside this establishment whorring herself and getting slapped by a whore.) all apologies and whines for wetting your hands with her spurts of cum, the girl too sensitive and used to maintain herself, inside herself. fucked-out, rosen cheeks, one side a little more, and a riverbed of sweat culled between her breasts, her unbuttoned blouse. that indolent demeanor when someone does not want to leave a bed; she sometimes refuses her own set limits. “time means nothin', baby. let me have you until sun-up, yeah?”

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

lunch break

Summary: Joel forgot his lunch at home. When you get to his work to bring it to him, he has you for lunch instead.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 1.1k

Raiting: E

Warnings: established relationship, no outbreak, breeding kink like woah, smut (unprotected sex, public sex, car sex) dirty talk, a little bit of exhibitionism, fluff too I guess

A/N: look, I don't know, this just happened, okay?

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

Full Masterlist // Joel Miller Masterlist

This wasn’t supposed how you thought bringing lunch to Joel would end.

It was supposed to be a quick in and out to the job site, bringing him the lunch he had forgotten before getting back home in time for Sarah to get back from school and take her to the dentist. You had taken the whole day off especially for that because you knew how scared she was to go to the dentist and Joel couldn’t take the day off. 

The project Joel was currently working on was almost a 45 minute drive somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Apparently some billionaire had bought the whole land and was now building a luxury hotel, Miller constructions first big contract they had won. 

It were long and exhausting hours but Joel did it all with a smile. 

Sure, one on one time with him had gotten less and less but you were in it for the long haul with him. So long that you had moved into his place earlier in the year. So long that you had talked about having a baby together. 

Something that very much took the backroad since this project started a couple months ago. Or so you thought as you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, Joel towering over you in the dusty bed of his truck as he pumped his thick cock into you with deep and long strokes, making it hard to keep quiet. 

You weren’t even sure how this happened. 

One moment you walked towards the three containers that had been set up for all the workers, walking towards Joel who was sitting with his back towards you, the next moment he had you under him in his truck bed, panties pushed to the side under the summer dress you had been wearing, making enough room for his cock to fill you, him not having even pulled off his jeans, only pushing it down far enough to free his cock.  

„Not gonna let me hear you, huh?“ He teased, voice low as he leaned in, his lips kissing up your neck, steadily thrusting his cock into you. 

„Don’t want your people to hear,“ you whimpered, one hand in his hair, to keep his mouth right where it was as he sucked softly on that one spot on your neck he knew drove you insane. You crossed your legs behind his back, moaning at the changed angle he was filling you. 

„So fucking sexy,“ he grunted, kissing down towards your collarbone, his fingers pulling at the front of your dress just so he could free one of your nipples, his lips closing around it immediately after, sucking harshly. 

Your mouth dropped open in a silent cry, head thrown back as you looked up into the blue sky above the tree his car was parked beneath. 

Joel was dirty and sweaty, the shirt he had left the house with this morning replaced by a white wife beater that was clinging to his sweaty body. Sweat was dripping down his neck and fuck you don’t think you have ever been more turned on. 

He nibbled on your nipple and you pulled at his hair. 

„Can’t wait till these are full of milk,“ he mumbled against your skin as he kissed himself up your body, nose brushing over your skin as his hips slapped against yours, shaking the whole truck. 

„Full of milk for the baby I’m gonna fuck into you,“ he said, eyes on you before he kissed you deeply, tongue diving into your mouth while he fucked you even deeper. 

You could hear some men laughing in the not so far distance, and you gasped as you remembered just where you were. Were you let Joel have his way with you. You clenched around his cock and he moaned against your lips. 

„Need you to cum for me, baby,“ his forehead came to rest against yours as he fucked into you. 

„Need you to cum so I can fuck my cum so deep inside of you, it’ll take. Gonna make you a mama,“ he murmured, and you gasped. 

„Fuck, Joel,“ you moaned. 

„You want that? Want me to keep you full of my cum?“ He groaned and you nodded.

„I want that. Want you inside me all the time,“ you whined and he groaned a low fuck against your ear as he buried his face against your neck. You wrapped your arms behind his back, one of your hands buried in his sweaty hair.

"Gonna look so good with my baby inside of you. Not gonna be able to keep my hands off of you once you start to show,“ he whispered against your ear and you shuddered. 

„Cum for me baby,“ he sucked on your earlobe. 

„Cum for me so I can pump you full of my cum. Full of my baby,“ he groaned and you clamped down on him, cumming hard. 

„Oh fuck,“ he groaned when he felt you come, following you almost immediately, moaning against your ear as he came, spilling inside of of you, pumping you full with his cum. 

Both out of breath you just stayed like this, for how long you didn’t know. Could be seconds, minutes or hours, you weren’t sure as you held him in your arms, feeling his warm breath against your neck as he laid on top of you. 

He knew how much you loved having him on top of you. 

You brushed your fingers through his hair, a content smile sneaking to your face. 

„Where did that come from?“ You asked after a while and he sat himself up a little so he could look at you. 

„I know you’re ovulating,“ he said and you raised one eyebrow, intrigued at him knowing that.  

„And I’m just really fucking horny for you,“ he said like it was the most normal thing, making you giggle. He chuckled, smiling widely at you before he kissed you softly. 

„Love you,“ you mumbled against his lips. 

„Love you more,“ he mumbled back. 

You were already driving back down the dirt road when Joel made his way back to the construction site, trying to glare at the very obvious smirks and winks he received from his colleagues. 

But who the fuck was he kidding?

He’d go through all the teasing in the world to have a lunch break like that every day. 

It was hours later that he realised, he never actually ate anything.

[paulyenvol6]

Heavy Hearts

Joel passes a group of raiders who are assaulting a girl that lives in the attacked village and decides to save her.

Contains: mentions of rape and sexual assault, trauma, angst, anxiety, panic attack, very caring and empathetic Joel

I'm not a psychologist and don't know how a person that has been sexually assaulted typically copes so please don't be mad if you don't like the way I described it.

Wordcount: ~3.80k

Masterlist

Usually Joel wouldn't have stopped.

Usually he wouldn't have even looked.

In situations like this he just tried to pass the group of raiders praying that they wouldn't notice and rob him as well because he was on his own after all and although he was a skilled fighter, he wasn't able to take a whole pack of them. So when he passed a camp or village where he could hear the raiders from afar Joel usually avoided it and quickly made his way past it.

But today it was different. It wasn't a very large group of men, maybe 5 or 6 and Joel hadn't been able to notice them until he was already close to the few houses. Once he did he immediately stopped and hid behind a tree.

"Shit," he cursed to himself and since he had a horse with him he knew that he needed to be very careful now so they wouldn't see him.

At first Joel watched them for a moment and then decided to try and back out until he could take the way around the forest which was a long diversion but it was better than to get killed by them.

He was just about to leave his hiding spot when he heard another noise. A high-pitched anxious voice that stood out compared to the laughter of the men.

He hesitated. Out of mere curiousity Joel narrowed his eyes to make out what was happening at the camp and it didn't take long for him to understand. The raiders were kneeling and standing around a girl and obviously intended to claim her as their prize. This wasn't new to Joel as raiders usually took from villages whatever they desired which included young women and to survive in a world like this one had to grow immune to their suffering.

And yet Joel hesitated again. His brain worked hard while he didn't take his eyes off the scene for one second. As much as he felt for the girl, he couldn't risk his life for her. There were four men around her and he couldn't be certain that he would be able to take down all of them. He had worked too hard, had sacrificed too much to be at this point in his life now to throw it all away for a girl. An innocent girl.

Joel's eye twitched and he chewed on his bottom lip. Her screams cut through the air like knives and each hit him in his stomach with so much force that he almost fell back. He couldn't do it. Jesus Christ, he couldn't save her. This was the destiny of so many women and girls and as horrible and sad as it was, Joel wouldn't change the world by saving her. So many more girls would get raped and assaulted even if he helped her.

He felt his foot getting numb which made him realize that he was already sitting here for way too long. He slowly rose to his feet while still observing the men. He couldn't see a lot but it looked like they were trying to take off her clothes which she tried to prevent. She kicked and shouted for someone to make them stop and Joel couldn't help but feel like her words were directed to him.

There was a thunderstorm inside of him; the urge to hit those motherfuckers who had grown so evil and vicious that they had fun raping girls but the rational side of his brain told him to turn around and never look back. And yet Joel hesitated again.

Maybe he thought that he would find a solution to his dilemma if he only waited for long enough. But then when he heard another heartbreaking sob from far away his emotions took over and he saw red.

Blinded by rage Joel swang himself on his horse and made his way to the house. It was so stupid that he immediately regretted it but now he couldn't turn back. Luckily the raiders only noticed him when he jumped off the horse as they were too busy groping the girl but when they did one started screaming and the other men immediately let go of the girl.

Later Joel couldn't remember the fight very well. This happened often, his adrenaline was so high that he felt like he was in a drunken state and his body and mind were disconnected. All Joel remembered was him shooting the first two of them instantly but then one of the guys managed to knock the gun out of his hand and kicked him in his stomach.

What followed was a messy fight that involved a lot of dirt but in the end Joel was able to take another of them down. At this point though the fifth raider that had been inside the house until now had joined his friends and Joel had to face two more men. It was an exhausting and draining fight, but eventually Joel found himself lying on his back surrounded by two dead and three unconscious men.

One of them had driven a little knife into his thigh but it was nothing that wouldn't heal after a couple of days so he forced himself to his feet well-aware that at some point three of the men would wake up again.

Only now did he perceive the girl for the first time. She was uncontrollably sobbing, had formed herself into a ball and covered her eyes with her arms. Her clothes had been torn off and were hanging loosely around her body. Joel sighed and watched her with a numb feeling. She was young, incredibly young and looked so vulnerable like this. He didn't want to terrify her in any way but knew that they had to leave quickly now so Joel approached her.

"Hey," he whispered while towering over her.

"N-NO," she screamed and tried to move away from him.

Of course. He should've known that it wouldn't be easy to get her to trust him after what she had just gone through. Joel quickly took off his jacket and put it on top of her body.

"Take this," he said but it seemed like she didn't even really listen to him and instead just repeated the word 'No'.

Joel exhaled loudly not knowing what he was supposed to do now. Obviously he couldn't leave her here because then his whole saving plan would've been for nothing but he also couldn't force her to come with him especially when she believed he wanted to harm her a well.

When he heard a noise behind him he remembered the urgency of the situation. One of the raiders had let out a moan and Joel snapped back to reality. Without giving it a second thought he placed one hand under her knees while his other wrapped around her shoulder and then he lifted her from the ground. The girl screamed and kicked with her feet but Joel knew he had to do this now. He wasn't going to hurt her, he was going to save her and he was going to make sure that she could see that.

He swiftly ran to his horse and managed to heave her into the saddle. She was fighting him but seemingly was too exhausted to get off the horse on her own so he had enough time to climb on it as well and took his seat behind her. Then Joel gave his horse the signal to move and tightly wrapped an arm around the girl's stomach so she wouldn't fall down.

"It's okay, it's okay. You're safe with me," he tried to calm her as she was squirming and sobbing so hard that she didn't even seem able to properly perceive her surroundings.

"N-No, please. No, let me go," she cried and scratched his arm that was around her body.

"I saved you, I killed these men. You're safe now. I'm not gonna hurt you."

At first he didn't know if his words even had any effect on her but soon her sobs became more quiet although it also could be a result from her growing extremely tired. Soon her body only occasionally shook and her head had dropped to the side.

"It's okay, I got ya. I promise you, I won't harm you," Joel whispered.

He didn't know if she had heard him or if she believed him but she stopped fighting until they arrived at his house in the midst of the forest.

Joel stopped his horse, climbed off it and then lifted her to the ground by her waist. She let it happen but her glossy eyes gave away how traumatized and far away she was. Her wobbly knees immediately buckled and Joel could only just prevent her from falling to the ground. His hands wrapped around her shoulder and he carefully pulled her with him inside of his house. Perhaps she had already gotten used to the thought of another man assaulting her now because she didn't even complain when Joel sat her down on the couch. Only that he of course wouldn't.

He quickly brought a blanket so she was finally covered and put it on top of her. Then he rushed to the kitchen to search for any food he could give her and actually found some dry and hard bread, milk and an apple. His heart was beating fast although he wasn't sure why. He had helped her and they were safe now so there was no reason to be nervous.

But when Joel looked at her again he knew what gave him anxiety. He didn't have a lot of experience with comforting someone let alone help someone who had gone through something comparable to what she had experienced. How was he supposed to communicate with her without scaring her? She still believed that another predator had just brought her into his home and he somehow had to convince her of the fact that he wouldn't hurt her.

Joel closed his eyes while forcing himself to breathe steadily and then made his way to the middle of the living room. The girl had actually wrapped the blanket around her body but twitched when she saw him. Joel immediately lifted his hand to signalize her to stay calm while slowly approaching.

"It's okay." But she pressed herself closer to the backrest and Joel could see her trembling lip from far away. She wasn't crying anymore but her face was still drawn with so much fear that Joel was scared to make one wrong step.

"Alright. I won't come any closer than this, promise."

He actually stopped but put the food he had brought on the sofa table.

"I have something for you. Are you hungry?"

She didn't answer him and just stared at him with eyes round as coins.

"That's bread over here and I have some milk and an apple. Take it if you're hungry."

Still no answer and now Joel didn't know what to do. Was he supposed to talk to her? Would that soothe her? Or should he leave her alone and vanish into his room? But what if she still assumed that he had nothing good in mind and fled from his house right into the arms of the raiders.

He would try something else, Joel declared and slowly sat down on the ground. Perhaps she would feel less intimidated if he wasn't towering over her.

"What's your name, little one?" he asked trying to make his voice sound as gentle as he possibly could.

"I promise, I don't wanna hurt ya. I know that you're very scared right now but you don't have to be scared of me."

She seemed to actually listen to him this time which Joel considered a progress. Her eyelids fluttered and her pupils searched frantically for any sign of danger on him, but Joel reassuringly showed her his hands.

"I don't have any weapon with me. See?"

He could almost hear her brain work behind her forehead measuring if she could trust him and Joel noticed how her hands clenched around the blanket covering her. A little sob left her mouth but this time only a few fresh tears ran down her cheeks and Joel felt like he still had her attention.

"It's okay. Let it out."

He sat patiently looking down to his hands so she wouldn't feel intimidated by his eyes on her until he felt brave enough to ask her for her name once more.

"What's your name?"

She slowly opened her mouth but at first no sound was escaping so Joel nodded encouragingly.

"S-Sophia," she whispered with a croaked voice but he managed to understand her.

"Okay, Sophia," he said gently and felt very helpless.

But then, and he didn't know why because it was solely based on a feeling inside of him he started to speak again and watched her with warm eyes.

"I had a daughter once. She was around your age." Silence.

"Her name was Sarah."

Her eyes wandered over his face but she still didn't show any reaction so Joel didn't know what drove him to tell this girl about his daughter that had nothing to do with any of this but something about it felt right.

"She had an obsession with insects and snails and all these disgusting animals, it was insane. You know, for her eleventh birthday she wanted to build a snail-hotel and collect them for it but her party guests were so freaked out that it ended in chaos." Joel laughed quietly. "But she hated hiking so she would always demand of me to drive into the forest to search for her animals which I wasn't a fan of."

At this point Joel wasn't thinking about what he was saying anymore and leaned his head back against the armchair.

"I always said: If you want to chase after your little animals and want me to come with you then you'll at least walk there. And then she'd say that she didn't chase after them but saved them."

Joel chuckled and then snapped back from his daydreaming when he looked into Sophia's big eyes that definitely looked a little more calm now.

"My name is Joel, by the way. Joel Miller."

He thought that it was only appropriate to finally introduce himself as well and he could actually see Sophia slightly nod with her head if he hadn't imagined it. And then the girl slowly sat up on the couch and watched the food on the table in front of her.

"C-Can I have a-an apple?" she whispered.

"Yes. Of course," he answered immediately and jumped to his feet which made her jolt.

"Sorry. Just… Take whatever you want."

Her shivering hand reached for the fruit and she touched it almost as if it were made of glass. Joel felt weird watching her every movement but he didn't know what else to do so after she had taken a first bite he decided to just ask her.

"Do you want me to go away? I could go to my room and give you some peace."

She bit her lip questioningly and then shrugged with her shoulders.

"I-I… I don't know, I…"

Tears welled in her eyes again and Joel wondered if he had said something to upset her.

"Okay, it's alright. Just tell me whenever you want me to leave."

She nodded and took another bite of the apple which gave Joel relief and the next few minutes were filled with the sound of her chewing and her heavy breathing. When she was done Sophie questioningly searched for his eyes while holding up the core of the apple.

"Just put it on the table," Joel said and then carefully thought about his next words.

"I… Is there anything I can do, Sophia? Anything to help you? I'm not good at this stuff as you see, but… I wanna help you."

She sniffed and wrapped the blanket tighter around her upper body.

"I-I don't know… I d-don't even know w-what happened," she said but her voice broke at her last words and she started to cry again. His instinct was to approach her but of course he didn't want to do anything that could trigger any more discomfort in her so he hesitated.

But then something happened. Something in her eyes shifted and she slowly lifted a hand.

"P-Please…"

Joel didn't understand at first but soon realized that she was reaching out for him. Still he wanted to make sure he didn't interpret her gesture wrong and frowned.

"Do you want me to come closer?"

Sophia gave him a pained look but then nodded very slightly. Joel didn't know why she reacted like this, he didn't know if he was handling this situation correctly but right now he wanted to serve the girl and her wishes and so he followed her demand and very slowly in order to give her time to speak up in case she changed her mind walked towards her.

He felt awkward standing in front of her and looked to the spot next to her. "Can I sit down?"

Sophia nodded again while trying to make the tears stop that continued to run down her face and even moved to make space for him. Joel sat down, immediately looked at her and felt a sting in his chest. Being close to her he became even more aware of how terrible this girl must be feeling. Her eyes were red and he could see multiple scratches and traces of dirt on her face. Only then did he realize that he hadn't even asked one of the most important questions.

"Are you hurt?"

This time it took her a little longer to reply again but to his relief Sophia shook her head. "N-No. Not r-really."

"But I can still give you a salve for the scratches if you want. Might've some medicine left," he quickly stated while looking at her profile.

"What happened?" she suddenly whispered while still staring into the empty space. Joel chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully before he exhaled.

"Do you really wanna talk about it?"

Her head turned so suddenly that he almost twitched.

"I need to know."

What was he to do now? It seemingly was her wish to learn about it but despite not knowing a lot about trauma and how to deal with it, Joel couldn't imagine that talking about it right after it had happened was very healthy.

"Look, I just don't wanna trigger anything," he therefore told her but Sophia let her head fall back against the backrest almost as if she was frustrated which made Joel sigh.

"Do you want me to tell ya? You sure?"

"Yes," she breathed.

And so he began to tell his side of the story but couldn't bare looking in her eyes while doing so.

"I passed the camp 'cause I didn't notice the raiders at first… And then I wanted to turn around and go back but… I… I saw what was happenin' with… you an' so I changed my mind, you know and attacked 'em. I killed two of 'em and the others were knocked out an' yeah, I guess that's it."

During his last words he felt strong enough to glance at her again. She looked like she was thinking but then bit her lower lip.

"And then?"

"What do ya mean?"

Her pupils danced hectically and Joel could see her eyes getting wet again.

"What happened after that? I can't remember."

She pressed her hand on her eyes trying to prevent herself from breaking down again.

"No, no, it's okay. I'll tell ya everything. Just look at me."

She slowly lifted her head and gave him a doubtful look while her hands grabbed the blanket again.

"I gave you my jacket. And then I lifted you on my horse and we came here to my house. You were kinda unresponsive the whole time."

She looked so sad suddenly that Joel once again asked himself if he had chosen the wrong words. Then Sophie brought her thumb to her mouth to nibble at it while sniffing loudly.

"I don't know what to do."

It sounded so heartbreaking that Joel unconsciously reached out to soothe her shoulder but quickly let go of her as soon as he realized.

"Sorry, I… You don't have to do anything right now. You just have to eat and sleep. Everything else we'll figure out."

"I don't wanna sleep," the girl disagreed at once and Joel tilted his head.

"That's okay. But if you're tired you should try an' get a few hours of sleep at least."

Sophia shook her head and seemed panicky all of a sudden.

"Please don't leave me. I don't wanna be here alone, please. I'm scared."

Joel sat up straight and folded his hands in his lap.

"I'm not gonna leave you. I'll be right in the next room. And you're safe here, I promise."

But his words seemed to only upset her further because she watched him with wide eyes and looked very pale.

"But I don't wanna be alone at night, please."

Joel sighed still not sure if he was serving her right by staying with her under these circumstances but she seemed so certain of what she wanted right now.

She couldn't possibly trust him like this already and although he obviously knew that he would never harm her in any way, he still wondered if he might scare her if he stayed with her. She was in an extremely vulnerable position right now and probably felt so horrible that she might get attached to any person that took care of her. But if it was her wish? If she would only feel worse if he left?

"Are you sure?" She nodded. "You want me to stay here?"

"Yes," she said quietly and glared at him looking almost shy.

"Okay. But you can still tell me to leave whenever you wanna be alone, alright?"

"Yes," she repeated and then moved slightly closer to him.

"Can I… Can I hold your hand?"

Joel almost teared up at her words and felt like his airways were blocked. In addition to that the heavy weight on his heart seemed to double in size but then he nodded.

"Of course," he breathed with a husky voice and offered her his hand which she enclosed with hers and then rested her head on top of them.

Neither of them said something for the rest of the night but Joel was busy with listening to her steady breathing.

He didn't know whether she had fallen asleep or was way too upset to even feel tired but he just stayed like this all night.

At some point his hand that Sophia gripped so tightly felt numb but even then he didn't pull back.

He just watched over her until with the first light of dawn Joel also felt sleep washing over him.

[kirsteng42]

Well I don’t know how I missed this big old masterpiece the first time I worked my way through Lil’s growing masterlist!!! I have read through 15 chapters today, well from say about 4am when I couldn’t sleep had a break and then I have read the last 5 chapters just now and oh my goodness what a cliffhanger damn you!!!! This is all plot, even with all the hot Miller Bros about, there is no smut, a little bit of frisky 😉 but all really great yearning and plot!!! Cannot wait for chapter 16….

Head Over Heels Master List

Jackson!Joel / Reader

Special Guest Appearance by a Certain FBI Agent who may or may not look a lot like Joel.

You left the loneliness of your home and headed to Jackson with Joel and the teenage girl he was with, hoping your new life would be less lonely. You should've stayed alone.

WARNING:

Non-canon Compliant, Pining, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Joel Lives (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy, Loneliness, Trauma.

MEGA WARNING: Descriptions of Attempted Sexual Assault.

Back to Jackson we go. Never been good with Post Outbreak stories so a bit nervous. The main story will revolve around Jackson, so there will be ridiculous time jumps in the first few chapters. Borrowing some characters from other fandoms.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

[ryuzakemo128]

Time & Place

Pairing: Joel Miller x Australian! Female Reader

Content Warning: Age Gap (Female reader is 29 & Joel Miller is 55), Family Drama, Verbal Abuse (Not from Joel or your parents), Female reader has a cybernetic left arm, gothic aesthetic, and shark tattoos. Angst. Abused against a disabled person (Female Reader is disabled.), Female reader has ADHD. Allusions to smut and smutty implications.

Word Count: 3079

Note: This gets heavy fast. If you get uncomfortable with it. Don't read this and don't complain about getting uncomfortable with it if you do read it. I am not your mother. I am not responsible for your reading consumption.

Note 2: It's up to you if you think Joel and you start dating immediately after the ending or not.

Divider Credit: @firefly-graphics + @cafekitsune

Masterlist

“By all means throw it in my fuckin face. Cause I totally chose to get hit by a fucking semi. Like I chose to lose to my fucking arm. Classic you sis. Classic, you gettin fucked in your own head because I asked for extra help. Fuck off with your feelings, go to therapy. Do anything that doesn’t make you look so God damn stupid.” You were beyond pissed. The metal left arm, a constant reminder.

A constant reminder of the reckless behaviour exhibited by your older sister, Gabriella. You didn’t think she caused that accident on purpose until you accidentally overheard the conversation between her and her husband last night. You were too tired to confront her about it then. Thinking you were hearing things and the combination of the pain meds along with your ADHD medication probably didn’t help. But now, it was glaringly obvious. Unavoidable.

You heard, “The little freak should be thanking me. The dark clothes, the time spent down in that basement to the amount of food she eats on a regular basis, I’m surprised she’s still alive. Not to mention her obsession with sharks? I’m also surprised she has that job too. I guess she’s smart with her Electrical Engineering Doctorate. But still, a robot arm? That’s just pathetic.” Your sister’s words echoed in your mind, like nails on a chalkboard.

Like she was using her own fucking husband as some kind of confessor. You weren’t going to let her get away with her vindictive bullshit. Not if you can help it either. You weren’t going to make it obvious. No, no, no, no that would be something she expected you to do. So you talked around her. You spoke to her children, but you ignored her, you spoke to her husband about her but not to her.

Things like that for the entire morning while you were getting ready in your bedroom. During this time, you were getting dressed in your bedroom after a warm shower. And ignoring your older sister. You heard a voice you clearly didn’t recognise either. It threw you off completely. Who was this guy?

Joel miller was invited to this ‘family gathering’ in spite of your reluctance to be anywhere near your older sister. Your parents coaxed you into stepping outside your basement bedroom. Your parent’s bright idea to move to America of all places still remains to baffle you to no end.

Despite earning quite a bit. You still lived with your parents? Your sister wasn’t allowed to move back in. No wonder she started to resent you so much. You were allowed to stay there, and you were even encouraged to remain there because of the accident. It wasn’t like your parents didn’t think you couldn’t look after yourself. It was more to do with the fact that they would rather have you with them. Rather than have you live alone out there. 

You and your parents combined enough money to pay for your cybernetic arm. And with the combined lot? You could get a high-end cybernetic arm. Another point of contention with your sister. Despite only knowing half the story. Despite the fact you insisted on paying it yourself. 

But your parents insisted on paying some of it too. They said it was to make sure you moved on from the tragic car accident faster. You helped out around the house whenever you could. You cooked dinners, even if it was just something whipped up with a slow cooker. You were always the one who was there to take care of them, despite the fact you had a doctorate and could have easily moved out. But you were a caretaker at heart, and the accident had only reinforced that part of your personality.

You still remember your father coming home early from work one afternoon and smelling the beef wagyu stew in the slow cooker. He sniffed the air, surprised and said, “Wow, smells like heaven in here, darling. Did you make this?”

“Yeah I made it this morning in the slow cooker.” you answered. “It’s ready to serve whenever.” Your dad looked at you with a proud smile. He knew you had been working hard at your engineering job. It was a small gesture of yours to thank them for everything they had done for you.

While you were drawing more intricate, colourful shark designs of different shark species for the entire tattoo sleeve on your right arm. As you were drawing in your visual art journal in your bedroom as you were listening to the Doom Eternal soundtrack. 

The sound of footsteps were a stark contrast to the clacking of high heels you are used to hearing from either your older sister or mother. You frowned, unsure of whom this person might be. As you don’t recognise the footsteps. Heavy, firm, domineering. 

Unlike the shuffling of your father’s footsteps, or the loud click-clacking of your sister’s stilettos or your mother’s sensible three-inch pumps. These steps? These had challenge behind them. They had command imbedded into them. They didn’t belong to anyone you knew.

You immediately went to hide the weed bush were secretly growing down there. To help with the phantom ghost pain of your missing arm. But that? That is another story. For another time. 

You were sitting at your desk, the rather expensive one that you bought online. The lovely black, Bruce Burdick for Herman Miller Desk for $3,348.75. Sure for someone with her wage? Not all that much, but as someone who doesn’t like spending that kind of cash on yourself? It felt more like a fortune. 

You were wearing your triple extra large men’s shirt with a cotton double-sided grim reaper graphic print with dark charcoal grey sweatpants when you heard your bedroom door creaking open. In assuming it was either one of your nephews or nieces coming in to hide from the loud family drama. You know what you did?

You said, “Pup, angel, I’m sure your mother wouldn’t want you to walk down here.” 

Well, it was more than a little embarrassing to find out that you just called a fifty-five-year-old man ‘pup’. The angel part? Nah. You called your parents that all the time. 

When you looked up to him there? “Uhhhh sorry about that. I thought you were one of my sister’s gremlins.” you stated apologetic. “If you’re looking for my mother, she’s out at the moment, if you’re looking for my father? He’s in the backyard standing at the grill. If you’re looking for my sister? Good fuckin luck. Same with her husband.” 

You didn’t know whether he was there because your father invited him or your mother or your sister. Perhaps it was your brother-in-law? You wondered who invited him, and for the most part. Why? Who was the mad man in your family that decided to torture this poor man with one of your family gatherings?

Joel walked into your room, looked around it, seeing the shark bowls with left over ravioli inside one of them on your desk. The shark figurines your work colleagues often gift you whenever they take their children or cousins to the local aquarium. Some of them even made shark ceramic figurines for you in their days off. 

The paintings of sharks hanging on your walls and shark memorabilia were the only parts which contain colour inside your room. Which otherwise would be a black on black montage of gothic decor, walls, bedspread and even your entire computer set up. Though, your headphones had a shark fin shaped in the middle of it. Instead of the cat ears. 

Your projector slash nightlight was also in a shape of a cartoon shark projecting a light blue light from the mouth of the shark. You bought it months after the accident because you couldn’t stand the dark after the accident. Your mother said it was adorable and added a little colour to your room. 

Since then, sharks slowly yet surely became your hyperfixation. You didn’t know why this was the case. But ever since then, you were obsessed with sharks. Not one specific shark, either. You loved them all. 

You learned how to crochet because of them and given them to your nieces, nephews, cousins, mother and father. Thus, the shark plushies on your waterbed. 

The industrial shelving unit with the boxes of your favourite snacks on the top shelf and the lined up large plastic containers of yarn used to crochet with. All meticulously organised and labelled by colour, shade, tone. 

The bed itself is opposite of the industrial shelving unit and on the other side of the basement window. Which has a blackout curtain over it all the time. Therefore, the only light inside the room right now is the blue hue is coming from the shark shaped nightlight. 

The shaggy shark themed rugs in between the bed and the shelf. Along with the one underneath your desk chair. With your two racks of your clothing behind you. It all screamed ‘my safe space’. 

Along with the odd sharked shaped knife on the top of a shelf above your desk. Cool looking but not a functional knife like the ones in your massive collection neatly tucked away in the bottom shipping container cabinet at the end of your bed. 

Joel looked over your bedroom, his eyes scanned the area. Slowly taking in all the little details that your parents might have told him about. You didn’t think much of it. You assumed he’d look around. Compliment it, introduce himself and then leave to go back to talking to your parents upstairs. 

The same routine you have done time and time again. The same kind of song and dance you were so used to you could see the action take place before they normally do. You have learned to ignore your sister and her snide comments. It was a survival tactic you picked up over the years. But today, you felt the anger bubbling up inside of you like a volcano ready to erupt. The words she had said about you, the way she talked about your cybernetic arm. It was too much.

You didn’t say anything as you continued to sketch with your water coloured pencils in your visual art journal. Occasionally looking up at him every few minutes. You weren’t in the mood to deal with people. 

You didn’t want to go through the whole thing again. You didn’t want to explain the arm or look at the face they pulled when they were clearly, visibly uncomfortable with seeing it in person. You were so tired of explaining yourself that you don’t go outside your bedroom when they have people come over.

Joel didn’t seem disturbed, scared, or even uncomfortable at the sight of your cybernetic prosthetic left arm. He looked at all the shark decor inside your bedroom. He studied your water coloured pencils and the sharks you were sketching with a quiet intensity that was a bit unnerving.

You were too focused to really see the fact that he was undressing you with his eyes. You didn’t see yourself as attractive enough to warrant such a thing. So you didn’t think about how he is looking at you right now. You continued to sketch in your art journal. 

“Is there something you needed or someone you needed me to get for you?” you asked not looking up from your current art piece.

You weren’t focused on what he wanted to do to you. Which is nothing short of having you bent over, collared and cuffed. Joel had a thing for you, and you didn't know that. If you could read minds? Sure. Maybe then you would have known about it.

But here you were, in your own little world of sharks and anger, oblivious to the fact that your heart was racing just by having him in your personal space. You had no clue how he even found the basement door. You thought it was hidden enough, but apparently not. Though nothing screamed basement bedroom more than the shark painted on the other side of the basement door. 

Joel couldn’t believe the sight of you in front of him. Your confidence and the tattoos? Bonus on top of another bonus in his eyes. In spite of the prosthetic left arm too. He could see how your older sister was seething with the complaints about you to her husband. Who looked equally as tired as your parents.

“I’m Joel Miller, I’m a friend of your parents and your sister’s new manager.” Joel introduced himself. You could hear the texan, southern drawl dripping from each word he said.

“So you’re the one that’s gonna make my older sister behave better?” you quipped firmly shaking his hand. “Good luck with that.”

Joel’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, his grip firm yet not overpowering. “I’ll do my best, darlin’. I’ve got quite the handle on her type.”

“At least someone does. I don’t bother talkin to her now.” you remarked. “Harder to be mocked if you don’t give them what they want.”

“It’s not good for you to hold on to all that anger inside you darlin’. Justified or not, it’s going to eat you alive and whatever left over? You’re not gonna like.” Joel remarked. “When it does burst, what then?”

“Hard to do something about it when you would rather not deal with it. I was disabled long before this. ADHD and all that lovely stuff.” you remarked. “I don’t want to deal with her mess. I told her that yesterday. If you were here or close by you might have heard me yell at her.”

Joel took your response remained in deep thought for what it felt to be half a century. When he finally did speak up again? “Your parents asked me to talk to you. They’re kinda worried about you. They’re really, really worried, darlin’. You’re holed up here with all this...stuff, and you’re not letting anyone in. That’s not living. That’s just existing.”

“I work night shifts at the server farm, for like $120k a year. What more could they want from me?” You sigh, still not looking up from your art.

Joel nods, his eyes never leaving yours. “They want their daughter to be happy, to live, to thrive. They don’t want you hiding down here all the time. They want you to move on from what happened.”

You don’t know what caused the little heated moment to happen the night he stayed over. You were fast asleep, your back to the concrete black wall when he walked back into your room. You don’t even remember who kissed who first. Maybe it was the shark themed cocktails talking louder than ever. 

Joel pushed down the dark charcoal coloured sweatpants off, only to finally see the black lace micro v-string underwear underneath? Surprise. He didn’t think you would wear things like that still. The death’s head hawk moth tattoo in between your breasts too. The combination of the sharks tattooed on your right arm?

Before we get to the steamy parts too fast. Let’s go back to the start of it all. 

“I hope you haven’t been standing out in the cold the entire time.” you remarked as the rain started pouring down harder than any drum solo you’ve cared to listen to. You didn’t think he’d be willing to stay over in the flat behind the house for the entire weekend. 

You thought he would have taken the first flight back to Texas as soon as possible. Your family drama would make anyone outside your family uncomfortable as hell. But no, Joel Miller, the stoic man with the comforting Southern drawl, remained steadfast, even as the rain outside grew more intense.

“Get inside before the rain decides to take you as its own love child or somethin.” you stated, gesturing with your left arm to get him inside quicker. “I thought you were stayin in one of the granny flats in the backyard.”

You were given confirmation your sister caused you to lose your arm when your brother-in-law called as you were letting Joel inside the basement from the door in the backyard. You didn’t think Joel would have been able to overhear what your brother-in-law Thomas told you. 

You didn’t know what you were hoping to find out, you didn’t know why he needed to verbally say that to you. 

Thomas’s voice was cold, and he didn’t even bother hiding his contempt. “You’re such a fuckin’ disappointment. You’re the reason why we can’t have nice things. You’re the reason why she’s like this. You’re the reason why we can’t have more children. And now? You’re living here like a leech, taking all the attention from everyone. It’s your fault, you fuckin’ cybernetic freak. It’s all your fuckin’ fault!”

Can’t have more children? The woman got out of there without a scratch on her. It’s your fault now? His tone shifted when you heard your sister’s voice, saying the pregnancy test is ‘positive’ and they were about to have another child. On top of the three other children they have?

You felt like throwing your phone across the room and curling up in your bed for the rest of your life. You didn’t. You had better self-control than that.

Thomas continued to speak, “You’re not even a real person anymore with that robot arm. Who’s going to want to marry a freak like you? You should just crawl back into your hole and leave us alone. We don’t need you here.”

That last line alone was enough to send Joel over the edge, he took the phone from your hand and walked into the hallway. You didn’t know what he was going to say to him, and you really didn’t want to know either. 

But if the muffled phrases like, “You do not get to speak to her like that.”, “You better watch your tone boy.”, “Better watch what you say before I make you eat them words.”, and, “You’re damn lucky she’s even botherin’ with you after what you did to her.”, was any indication?

It felt too odd to have someone other than your parents on your side for once. You didn’t know how to feel about it either. But you know for one thing for sure. What followed after that phone call? It was about to get steamy as all hell.