#y’all don’t know what happened | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cowgurrrl · 2 years ago

Text

A plea for tenderness

Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader

Author’s note: bitch something came over me I have no idea what just happened also thank you to @pedges for helping me work out this plot idea I owe you my life

Summary: Things with you and Joel finally come to a head [7.3k]

Warnings: 18+ MINOR DNI, one bed trope, brief period talk, stress, implied anxiety, yearning, miscommunication, my first time writing smut 🤠 (please be nice), dirty talk. fingering, p in v stuff, Joel being a shit head, sub Joel if you squint really hard

"You've got to be fucking kiddin' me," Joel says as he turns on the hotel light.

It's been a long day. You were due to arrive in New York City this morning, but a thunderstorm delayed your flight. Then canceled it. You maneuvered phone calls between airlines and your managers to get things sorted out. You were also getting recognized in the airport, and it turns out that a line of people wanting to take pictures with you was a security issue. You were trying to be nice and take the time to talk to everyone but with the turn the day had taken, you were overwhelmed and on the verge of tears. Joel and TSA agents had to be the ones to turn people away and move to a more secure location. By the time you landed in New York, it was dark, and you were both exhausted. All you wanted to do was shower, lay in bed, and sleep for as long as possible. You have to be up early in the morning for a press junket, and Joel has meetings all day before you two have to go out for a date night. So, when you walk into your hotel room and see only one bed, it feels like the cherry on top of your entire day.

"Did Melanie book this room, or did you?" He asks, and you give him an annoyed look.

"You really think I would book us a room with only one bed?"

"Guess not," he sighs. You abandon your suitcases by the door and flop on the bed while Joel settles on the couch. You cover your eyes and take a deep breath. It's quiet, or at least as quiet as New York City can get. Your body aches from traveling, and all the stress it took to get here, and this situation is not helping. As far as the whole world knows, you and Joel can't get enough of each other. He can't just go downstairs to the front desk and ask for another room because he doesn't want to sleep in the same bed as his fake girlfriend. "What are we gonna do?" He asks like he's reading your mind, and you sit up to look at him.

His hair is sticking out every which way, and his shirt is wrinkled from falling asleep on the plane. He looks exhausted, and you can practically see the defeat weighing on his shoulders. Behind the fatigue in his eyes, you can see something heavier. He almost seems guilty. Guilty for putting you in this situation or guilty for not being able to do anything to fix it. You don't know. Your fingers twitch to reach out for him, but you curl them around the blanket instead.

"We're gonna take showers and get ready for tomorrow. That's about all we can do." You say, and he nods. You grab your suitcase and pull out all the toiletries and clothes you need for bed. Joel lingers on the couch, his hands tapping a rhythm into the cushions. You make a couple trips to the bathroom to get all your stuff set up, and when you come back out to grab your folded pajamas, Joel stands.

"I can sleep on the couch. If it'll make you more comfortable." He says, and a piece of you melts at how nervous he looks. You leave your clothes on the bed and walk over, covering his wringing hands with your own.

"You know that if you do that, your back will literally never recover, right?" You ask, and he chuckles. The air feels instantly lighter at the sound, and you smile. "Sleeping in the same bed for a few nights won't kill us. It's not ideal, but we can be adults about this. We'll build a pillow wall and everything if we really need to."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," you say. He looks like he wants to say something more, but he doesn't, and you suddenly become aware of just how close you two are. You can smell his cologne, and you're holding his big hands in yours, and it doesn't feel awkward or wrong. It actually feels nice. His thumb brushes against your skin softly, looking down at your joined hands as he traces a line into your skin. You slowly release his hand and step back. "I'm gonna take a shower."

He doesn't say anything as you gather your things and walk into the bathroom, locking the door behind you. You look up at the ceiling and let out a shaky breath as you try to calm yourself down. You can barely hold his hand without feeling like your skin is on fire. How are you supposed to sleep in the same bed as him? He looked so relieved when you told him it was okay. You can't take it back now. You sigh and turn the shower on, hoping the water will wash away the stress from the day.

You try to avoid thoughts of your schedule for tomorrow and hum so you can't hear Joel's voice through the walls as you scrub your body. He's on the phone with someone, speaking in a gentle tone you've only ever heard him use when he's checking on you. It's the same tone he used to comfort you after the charity event and the one he used to apologize for the hotel room. You shake your head and turn off the shower, anxious to keep yourself busy so your mind doesn't wander. You take the time to brush and floss your teeth, go through your skincare routine, and nervously tear your nailbeds apart. You're surprised Joel didn't bang on the bathroom door for you to hurry up.

When you walk out of the bathroom in a shirt two sizes too big and a pair of bike shorts, Joel is hanging up some nice-looking shirts that will probably need to be ironed in the morning because of how wrinkly they are. He smiles softly as you carry the clothes you wore today back to your suitcase. Joel's bag is sitting open on the bed, and your eyes catch on familiar packages sitting on top of his stuff.

"Is there a reason you keep pads and tampons in your carry-on?" You ask, peering into his bag as you brush your hair.

"They're for my daughters, snoopy." He says, closing the closet door and leaning against it like it's too hard for him to stand upright. You silently curse his stupid fucking Lakers shirt for stretching against the muscles in his arms.

"Oh," you say. How could you forget that the man kissing you against walls and sending you flowers is also a father?

"Oh,"

"How old are they?"

"Sarah is eighteen, and Ellie is fourteen."

"Wow." You gape. It's an involuntary response, and you want to take it back as soon as it leaves your mouth. Joel raises his eyebrows at you as he moves from his spot.

"What?"

"Nothing. I thought they'd be younger."

"Are you about to shame me for being old?" He asks. He has a playful look in his eyes as he steps closer to you, and you flip your wet hair over your shoulder.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, Miller. I just know that other people in the industry have kids later in life. Robert Downey Jr. was forty-seven when his first kid was born." You say, and he laughs, shaking his head.

"Well, that's definitely not me. I was a couple months away from turning twenty-three when Sarah was born."

"That's crazy. So, you were, what? About twenty-six when Ellie was born?"

"I guess it would've been right around there, yeah."

"What are they like?" You ask.

"Well, Sarah's smart as hell. Gave me a run for my money when she was younger cause she'd have to teach me how to help with her math homework. She's also sweet and gentle. Wouldn't hurt a fly, and if she did, she'd probably cry about it for a month," he says, his eyes lighting up as he talks about her. You smile as you imagine a much younger Joel sitting at the kitchen table with a little kid, cursing under his breath about fractions. "Now, Ellie... Ellie is quick. Just as smart as Sarah, but she's a little more extroverted. She's never met a stranger and is probably the funniest damn kid alive, but if you tell her I said that, I'll never forgive you."

"And they get along?"

"For the most part. They're still sisters, y'know? They have little fights and whatnot, but they love each other."

"Sounds like you hit the jackpot." You say, and he smiles.

"Yeah, I guess I did," he pulls his phone out of his back pocket and scrolls through his photos, turning it around when he finds what he's looking for. He shows you a picture of two girls sitting on a nice-looking couch with guitars in their laps. One has long, dark, coily hair pulled from her face, and Joel's crooked smile tugs at her lips. Her legs are long and crossed in front of her, and a butterfly necklace hangs from her neck. The other is shorter, with cropped, wavy brown hair covered with a baseball hat and silver rings adorning her fingers. She looks focused, a familiar line creasing her forehead as she strums the guitar. He points to the girls and identifies them as Sarah and Ellie, respectively.

"They're beautiful."

"Thank you," he says, suddenly shy. He tucks his phone into his pocket and looks down at you. "They, uh... they asked about you when I was just talkin' to 'em."

"Really?" You ask, and he nods.

"Asked when I was gonna bring you around. They think bein' an actor is way cooler than bein' a singer."

"I mean, obviously."

"Maybe I shouldn't introduce you three. I have a feelin' you guys are gonna create a mini army against me."

"They sound like headstrong girls. I doubt they need me to start an army." You say, and you both laugh.

"Would you... wanna meet them one day?" He asks. You chew on the inside of your cheek as you fight with your brain. Part of you wants to smile and jump up and down at the idea that he trusts you enough to introduce you to his daughters, but the other part wants to cry because this isn't real. But meeting his daughters wasn't in the contract. Neither was sending you flowers or offering to sleep on the couch.

"Yeah. One day." You say. He smiles and nods. The deep brown of his eyes twinkles as a slight blush rises to his cheeks.

"Okay." He says as he turns from you to pull some clothes and toiletries from his bag, that smile never leaving his lips even when he leaves the room to get in the shower. You find yourself smiling, too, as you climb under the covers and mindlessly scroll through your phone. He doesn't take as long as you did, but he's still in there for a good few minutes before he walks out in a bleached Foo Fighters t-shirt and black sweatpants. You subtly watch him put his things away and get ready for bed, his back muscles entrancing you when he turns to plug his phone in.

He lingers on the other side of the bed, nervous and unsure, making you laugh. You pull the blankets out from their tightly tucked corners and pat the spot for Joel to lie down. He pauses for another second before climbing into bed next to you. He smells like lavender and aftershave, and his hair is damp as he rests his head on the pillow. You put your phone away and reach over to turn off the light on your side of the bed so you can each get some sleep, but he doesn't move. You look at him over your shoulder when the light on the other side doesn't flicker off.

"You're sure this is okay?" He asks.

"As long as you stay on your side, Miller," you joke, but he doesn't so much as crack a smile. You sigh and lie down so you're face-to-face with him. "This isn't your fault. This is just one bump in the road. There's no reason to let it ruin our whole trip, okay?" You ask. He takes a deep breath through his nose, the gears in his mind working loudly before he nods.

"Okay." He says. He stares at you for another beat before reaching over and turning off his lamp, casting the room in total darkness. He lies so his back faces you, and you feel his body relax into the mattress. Surrounded by the city's sounds and Joel's breathing, your mind rests for the first time all day. Crooked smiles, gentle hands, and butterfly necklaces invade your dreams, and, for once, you don't bat them away.

A distant car's honk stirs you from sleep. You can hear birds chirping and subways screeching as the city slowly wakes up around you. Your muscles still ache from your long day of travel the day before, but you're comfortable and warm. The early morning sun shines on your face, and you grimace, burying your face into your soft pillow. But, when you move, a firm body moves with you, and you freeze, suddenly wide awake.

Your eyes blink open, and you find yourself curled against Joel's chest, his Foo Fighters shirt close enough for you to make out individual bleach spots. Your hand is curled between your face and his chest, and you can feel how the air comes and goes from his strong lungs. One of his hands rests on the back of your head like he's cradling you, and the other is wrapped around your waist. You're totally enveloped in his warmth and his smell.

How the fuck did this happen? When you fell asleep, he wasn't even facing you. Did this happen while you were sleeping, and if so, who reached for who first? You want to spiral. You want a reason. You want to find a way to wiggle away from him to protect yourself, but he's so comfortable, and you haven't slept that soundly in years.

You slowly move so you can look up at him. His face is relaxed as soft snores leave him, and his damp hair has dried into the most perfect fluffy head of curls. That worried line he gets between his brows when thinking hard is nothing more than a wrinkle when he's like this. He's beautiful. Carefully, you take your hand from his chest and reach out to trace the line with your thumb. He doesn't stir or jump at your touch. You swear, he unconsciously leans into it.

Your fingers move across his face in quiet reverence. You trace his eyebrows, the curve of his nose, the dip of his cupid's bow, and his jawline with soft fingertips. It feels like you're memorizing his features lest he disappear right before your eyes. It feels like you're begging yourself to never forget how his hair falls over his forehead or how the scar under his jaw curves upward just so. It feels, for once, like you're not worried about what happens in the next five minutes because he's right here, and you need to count every single freckle before you can do anything else.

He inhales suddenly, and you feel him start to stretch before he feels you. Your hand rests on his cleanly shaven jaw as he opens his eyes, at least four different emotions playing out behind them when he realizes what happened. Golden rays of sunshine filter through the curtains, making him look like someone's version of an ancient god. He opens his mouth to start to say something, but you lean in to kiss him before he can.

His lips are soft and tentative against yours before his mind catches up with his body. Then, his hold on you tightens, pulling your body flush to his, and he kisses you like his life depends on it. You bury your hands in his hair as his hands come to your jaw to deepen the kiss. There's a little teeth and tongue as his arms rest on either side of your head, caging you in. It feels like he's everywhere and nowhere all at once. You need more. You squeeze his shoulders when he kisses a line from your lips to your jaw and down your neck, gasping when his teeth scrape against your skin enough to send electricity down your spine. He soothes the barely there pain with a soft kiss, taking his time to taste your skin.

"Joel," you breathe. He kisses the shaky incantation of his name away as his warm hands slide under your shirt and skate up your ribs. Your back arches, and you press yourself closer to him, desperate for any kind of contact. His thumb barely brushes against the swell of your breasts when the grating default iPhone alarm sounds. You both jump and startle out of the moment. His hands leave you, and he shuffles to smash the off button. You do your best to get your heart rate down as he sits on the edge of his side of the bed with his back to you. It's dead silent, and for a minute, you think maybe it was all a dream, but your lips are still buzzing, and the skin he kissed and nipped and licked stings with the reminder that he was just right there.

"It's seven o'clock." He says, his voice cracking over the syllables, and you nod at the ceiling. He stands and moves to his suitcase to pull out some clothes, actively avoiding your eyes. When he disappears into the bathroom, you cover your face with a pillow and hope a meteor will rattle through the atmosphere and burn you from the earth because that would be easier to understand than whatever the fuck that was.

You're sitting on the couch with two hosts of the Today Show, a pretty pink dress flowing around you as you listen to them talk up your most recent project to go to theatres, but you're not all there. In the background of their questions and the hot lights beating down on you, you're going through every single movement that led to Joel Miller kissing the life out of you this morning. You're stuck on the minutes just before seven am when nothing mattered more than his body against yours. He left the hotel room without a goodbye while you were washing your face, and you won't see him until later tonight. So, you're stuck tracing the shape of Joel's nose into the hem of your dress like it's the answer to an important question on a final exam.

"This movie has already sparked many beautiful conversations online about families and growing up. What can you tell us about what you took away from this film?" Hoda asks. You start something about how coming of age is scary, but you were really grateful to get to do this project. You praise the girl who played your younger sister and how well she portrayed that experience. You were going to say something about another costar or the director or something, but it all flutters out of your head when you think about Joel's hands on you. This is fucking pathetic, you think.

"I'm so sorry, I forgot what I was gonna say," you laugh the way they taught you to— good-naturedly and honestly but not too loud. Nobody likes a loud woman.

"That's alright. I think we all know where your mind is right now." Jenna, the other host, chimes in, and you raise your eyebrows.

"You do?" You ask, a little nervous that they know something you don't. They both hum and nod.

"Does it have anything to do with coming into New York with a certain singer on your arm?" Jenna asks, and you feel yourself relax. You laugh and run your hands through your hair as you nod.

"You caught me."

"How is Joel?"

"He's great. I'm sure he'd be here with me today if he didn't have work. I'm just happy our schedules finally lined up for once."

"Now, we know he is famously very private, but what can you tell us about your relationship? How did you meet? What's it been like to date one of the most famous rockstars in the world?" Hoda asks, her chin in her hand as she stares at you. You smile and fidget with a ring on your index finger.

"Well, you're right about him being very private, so I don't want to give away too much because I kinda like having our little secrets too, but I'm really happy. It's been a little bit of a learning curve for both of us, but we've found something that works."

"That's it?! C'mon, you've gotta give us a little more!" Jenna exclaims, and you laugh, throwing your hands up.

"I'm not one to kiss and tell!"

"I guess we'll have to get Joel in here one of these days."

"Oh, good luck with that. His ability to dodge questions like the plague is one of my favorite things about him." You say as a picture of you and Joel kissing on the charity red carpet appears on the screen. You can't stop the blush from spreading across your cheeks, but you try playing it off as smiling too much.

"Look at you two! You really are a great couple, and we wish you both the best."

"Thank you so much." You say. They dive back into promoting your newest movie before cutting to commercials. You give them both big hugs and thank them again before being whisked off to do more press.

You spend the rest of your day answering the same four questions over and over again with your costars by your side. They make it a little easier to get through the day, especially when they tell embarrassing stories from set or play stupid games with you. You're able to take your mind off of Joel for a few hours when you're with them. You make plans to color-coordinate on the red carpet for the premiere because you guys play a family, and that's what families do. Lilly, the girl who plays your younger sister, asks your opinion on dresses and how to tell her stylist that she's hated almost every outfit he's put her in. You give her as much advice as possible and ignore the thought in the back of your head that you would've killed to have someone provide you with advice like this when you first started.

The day goes by faster than expected, and you're back in the hotel room before you know it. Except Joel isn't there when you walk in. Instead, there's a bag on the bed with his handwriting scrawled on a note beside it. Wear this tonight. I'll meet you at dinner -JM, under his initials, is the address of the restaurant where you're supposed to have dinner. You furrow your brows in confusion as you pull a little black dress out of the bag. It's your size, which you have no idea how he found out, but you're pleasantly surprised when it fits. The hem of the dress hits an inch or two above your knees, and the collar is lined with pearls. It's gorgeous and feels expensive as it clings to your body. You pair it with a pair of black heels before doing your hair and makeup.

It's not super common for people in the industry to still do their own hair and makeup, but you love it. You like the time and energy it takes to get yourself ready. There's something meditative about it, which you could use if you're going to make it through dinner. You take some inspiration from Pamela Anderson's makeup looks from the nineties when the public deemed her The Rockstar's Girlfriend. While Tommy Lee is a piece of shit, and Joel is nowhere near like that, you still like the aesthetic. When you step back from the mirror to take in your complete look, power and confidence surge through your veins. You grab your little black purse from the counter and saunter to the lobby.

Paparazzi snap your pictures leaving the hotel and getting into the car Joel sent for you, but you're not annoyed at it for once. You look good. The world should see it. You text Joel that you're on your way, the only communication you've had with him since this morning. You decide that the thing that makes this kiss feel so different and jarring from the others is that it wasn't for the cameras or the press. It was just for you two. You were alone in the privacy of your own bed, and you kissed him because you wanted to, not because you had to sell a story. But he kissed you back. He did more than kiss you back. You sigh as the car rolls to a stop, and the back door opens. Joel stands there in a tight-fitting black button-up shirt and nice slacks, holding his hand out to you. You take it and smile as he helps you out of the car, kissing your cheek once you're in view of the photographers on the sidewalk.

"You look beautiful," he says, so only you can hear it, and you squeeze his hand. He escorts you into the restaurant, and you two are given a table in the back. It's all too similar to your first-ever date when you were ready to punch him and break a legally binding contract. You order drinks and mess with your earrings as you think of what to say.

"How was your day?" You figure is as good a place to start as any. He raises his eyebrows at you, and you just stare at him like you don't know what he's waiting for.

"It was fine. Got a lot of work done," he says. "What about you?"

"I did a lot of interviews. Got asked about you a whole bunch." You say as the waiter brings your drinks over. You thank him and watch him scurry away before Joel takes a big sip of his beer.

"What'd you say?" He asks, and you shrug.

"I told them how deliriously happy we are," you say. He grinds his teeth and hums as he takes in your words. You drink your drinks silently until the waiter comes by to take your food orders. Joel must sense lingering eyes at the same time you do because he takes your hand and rubs affectionate circles into your skin. You reach out with your other hand to move his hair out of his eyes and mumble something about him needing a haircut. He hums but doesn't take his eyes off you. You vaguely recognize the look behind the irises and shake your head. "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you didn't leave the second you got the chance this morning," finally tumbles from your lips. You expect him to get annoyed or frustrated, but he doesn't.

"I had to." He says.

"Why?"

"You know why."

"I, obviously, don't."

"If I didn't leave when I did this morning, neither of us would've made it out of the room for the rest of the day." He says like it's common knowledge. You take a deep breath and lean forward.

"I don't believe you." You say. He shrugs, grabs your martini glass from in front of you, and takes a sip. You give him a look, and he smirks. This doesn't feel like a serious conversation anymore. This feels like a game.

"You think too much."

"Oh, is that what it is?" You ask, and he hums, handing you your drink back. You sigh and take a big swig. "You're infuriating." You mumble into the glass. He scoots his chair closer to the table and copies you, leaning forward until he's right in your face.

"Then, why'd you kiss me this morning?" He asks, his breath fanning across your neck as he tilts his head. His voice is low and curious, if not the tiniest bit smug.

"Lapse of judgment."

"That right?"

"Mhm," you hum. "Don't think I'd do it again unless I had to."

"Wanna hear what I think?"

"Not really, but I'm sure you'll tell me anyways."

"I think you're lyin'. You know exactly why you kissed me this morning."

"Yeah? Enlighten me, then." You challenge.

"I think you kissed me because you wanted to, and you never act on the things you want 'cause of that perfectly polished Hollywood attitude. And sure, you smile all pretty and keep yourself quiet, but I know you need an excuse to let that all go."

"And what? You're that excuse?"

"If that's what you want me to be," he says, moving so his mouth is right by your ear. "When's the last time someone properly fucked you, huh? Because I barely touched you this morning, and you sounded like you were gonna cry. Joel," he copies the way you said his name this morning, all breathy and desperate. His words shoot straight to your core, and the restaurant is suddenly too hot. You dig your nails into his hand, but he doesn't flinch. No, he has the audacity to fucking laugh. "I bet if I reached under that little dress, you'd just be drippin' for me." Approaching footsteps pull him and that dirty mouth away from you as Joel smiles at the waiter like he didn't just say all that to you. Your food is set down on the table in front of you, but you're not hungry anymore. Joel just stares at you with a shit-eating grin. You down the rest of your martini and clear your throat as you pick up your fork.

"I'm going to fucking kill you." You say quietly, and he chuckles.

"Do your worst, darlin'."

It could be the ache between your legs or the agonizingly slow way Joel eats his dinner, but it feels like you're at the restaurant for hours before Joel finally gets the bill. What's worse is the New York City traffic you get stuck in on your way back to the hotel. You're about ready to get out of the car and just walk the rest of the way. Joel seems to think this entire thing is hilarious because he chuckles and puts a hand on your thigh, squeezing your skin. "Relax," he whispers, and your jaw clenches as you look at him. Cars honk at each other, and people yell loudly, distracting the driver enough for you to kiss his neck. Your hand rests on the other side of his neck, keeping him in place as you lick at the hollow of his throat. His grip tightens on your thigh when your hand travels down his chest, your fingers working to undo the top few buttons. Your nails lightly scrape over his chest, and a low groan rumbles through him, making you smirk.

"Where'd you go, baby? You were talking such big shit back at the restaurant. I thought you'd be able to handle a little teasing," he swallows hard, and you reach down to palm him through his slacks. He bites back a desperate noise and claws at your wrist to stop your movements. "Gonna cry for me, Miller?" You ask. The car stops in front of the hotel, and he sighs as he looks between you and the tent in his pants.

"Ready to run?" He questions. Before you can even ask him what he means, he grabs your hand, opens the car door, and basically sprints into the hotel, dodging paparazzi and doormen, making you laugh the whole way in. You keep running until you reach the elevators, both of you reaching to punch the button at the same time. You laugh, still breathless from the running and the complete 180 the situation took. Joel shakes his head, fighting a smile, as you giggle deliriously. "There's so much wrong with you."

"Me?! You're the one who made me run into the hotel lobby like a crazy person!" You say as the elevator door opens. He hums as he pushes you through the doors with his body, his lips ghosting over yours when he reaches to press the button for your floor. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and kiss him when you start moving. His hands rest on your waist, and he pushes you until your back hits the wall of the elevator, his finger tugging at the fabric of your dress. When the doors open, Joel grabs your hand again, and you two run down the hallway like kids until you screech to a halt in front of your door.

Joel pats his pockets feverously as he searches for the room key, making you laugh. You lean in and work on the buttons of his shirt while he fishes for it, his Adam's apple bobbing when you kiss his sternum. The hotel key card shakes in Joel's hand, and he curses under his breath as he scans it again, desperately trying to make it turn green. The second it does, he pulls you into the room with him, pushing you against the door and kissing you roughly. His knee finds its way between your legs, pressing into your core in the most delicious way. You moan and reach for his belt bucket, your nails barely grazing his hard cock, making him hiss before gathering your wrists in one of his hands and bringing them above your head. "If y'do that, 'm not gonna last long enough to feel you," he says, his voice hot in your ear. You whine as he kisses down your neck, leaving love bites on any piece of skin he can reach.

You grind your hips against his thigh, and you should be embarrassed by the sounds leaving you, but you don't have the mental capacity. Not when you feel this good. Joel releases your hands to push the hem of your dress up, up, up until he can get a full view of the black lace covering you. "Fuckin' Christ," Joel groans. He wastes no time pushing the fabric aside and sliding through your folds a second later. You let out a choked moan and lean your head against the door as he collects your wetness on his fingers. "All this for me, pretty girl?" He asks.

"Ah, Joel," you whine when he makes a pass at your clit, your fingernails digging into his shoulder. Your hips move against him, desperately searching for more friction.

"I got you. 'S okay. I'm gonna take care of you, okay? Are you gonna let me take care of you, baby?" His voice is whiny in a way you've never heard before, making you dizzy. His middle finger teases your entrance, and you clench around nothing. "Need to hear you say it."

"Please, I need you," you sound desperate, your breath heaving from you as you stand there, almost shaking with anticipation. He doesn't move, and you feel like you're going crazy. "Jesus fucking Christ, Joel, please. I need you inside me." The second the words leave your mouth, he presses two fingers into you, sliding right to the knuckle in one motion. You moan loudly and drop your head to his shoulder as he slowly pumps his fingers in and out of you. You remember hearing once that guitarists have the best hands out of everyone else in the music world. You always thought it was a joke, but now that you're here with Joel's fingers buried deep inside you and his thumb pressing on your clit, you're inclined to agree. His long, rough fingers reach spots deep inside you that you can't reach yourself, and when they curl just so, stars explode across your vision. His name leaves your lips like a broken prayer as he moves his fingers faster.

"You're so fuckin' pretty like this. Takin' my fingers so well," he's babbling in your ear, which you should've expected based on everything you know about him, but his voice is intoxicating. You pick your head up off his shoulder and keen against him, your hips pushing into his hand. He takes the opportunity to kiss you roughly, all teeth and tongue, as the sound of his fingers moving against you makes you feel like you're burning from the inside out. "You gonna come for me, pretty girl? Gonna let me feel it?" He asks, ducking his head to mouth at your neck. He adds more pressure to your clit, a little mean about it, and you gasp, clawing at his shoulders as your vision goes white. Your walls pulse around his fingers, and sounds you didn't even know you were capable of leave your chest, but he doesn't stop, desperate to pull every bit of pleasure out of you.

You pull the hair at the nape of his neck and beg him to stop, your breath catching in your throat when he thrusts into you again before pulling out. Without missing a beat, he pops his index and middle finger into his mouth, sucking every drop of your arousal from them. The look in his eyes is dark and completely blissed out as his tongue peeks from between his fingers. That is enough to send a zing down your spine, reigniting the fire in your stomach, and you hastily undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt and push it off his shoulders. He steps backward, and you follow him until his knees hit the edge of the bed, and he falls on top of it. You step back to take in the sight of world-famous, untouchable, tattooed, badass rockstar Joel Miller laid out in front of you, hard as a rock against his slacks and completely at your mercy.

You reach behind your back and unzip your dress, letting the fabric and your underwear pool at your feet. You kick off your heels before crawling on top of him, his big hands immediately splaying across your waist as he sits up to kiss at the swell of your breast. Your hands pull at his hair when he takes one in his mouth, his tongue flicking over your nipple and making you see stars. "Fuck, you're so good at that," you moan, looking down to see him staring at you. He releases your breast with a soft pop before moving to the other, giving it the same treatment. You don't know what atrocities you suffered in a past life to deserve someone like him taking so much time with you, putting his own orgasm aside to pleasure you, but you’ll take it. "Kiss me, please." You beg. He quickly obliges and takes the opportunity to flip your positions so he's on top of you.

You reach down to undo his belt buckle and push his slacks and underwear down his ass in one fell swoop. He moans against your lips when you take him in your hand, twisting your wrist just enough to make him thrust into your fist. He's panting as he presses his forehead against yours, and a sick part of your brain thinks about teasing him.

"I don't have," he breathes, deflating slightly against you. "I don't have a condom. I didn't think this was gonna happen."

"I'm on birth control, and I'm good if you're good." You say, and he nods.

"I'm clear," he swallows hard, obviously using every iota of his brain to stay focused. "Are you... are you sure?" He asks. You don't say anything. You just guide him forward and take a sharp inhale as he slowly pushes into you. He's an incoherent babbling mess and buries his face in your neck once he's fully seated inside you. The stretch is painful for a second before it blossoms into a white-hot pleasure at the base of your spine.

"Joel,"

"Yeah?"

"I need you to move," you say. He moves back slowly, and you feel every inch of him before his hips thrust forward. He sets a dizzying pace— slow and languid at first but quickly shifting to rough and frantic. Your nails rake down his warm back, leaving red scratches on his skin as he fucks you. He's bordering on whimpering as he thrusts into you harder, and you gasp when his thumb grazes your clit. "You sound so pretty when you're fucking me. I can't believe I've gone this long without having your cock inside me. You feel so fucking good." You mumble in his ear, and he keens at your praise, something you store in your mind for later.

You open your mouth to say something more, but he draws tight circles around your clit, making your pussy clench around him, and the thought flies from your brain. It takes one more hard thrust to push you over the edge, stealing the breath from your lungs and clinging to Joel like he's the last lifeboat in a storm. Joel curses and presses bruises into your hips as he comes inside you, the feeling of it stealing the breath from your lungs.

His movements still, and his cock rests inside you as you both slowly float back down to earth. Joel presses sweet kisses to your jaw, your cheeks, your forehead, and your nose before finally kissing your lips. He tastes like you and the martini he stole earlier. You take in a shaky breath, not realizing that you hadn't been breathing, and ground yourself in the feeling of his sweaty body against yours. You trace patterns into his back, and he hums at the feeling, making you smile. You stay like that for a few minutes before he finally gets the courage to carefully slip out of you and run to the bathroom to get something to clean you up. He kisses you when you whine at the sensitivity and even tosses a water bottle from the mini bar on the bed, calling for you to drink it as he finishes up in the bathroom. He's gentle in how he cares for you, way more gentle than any other person had been with you.

When he comes back out, naked as the day he was born, you smile and make grabby hands at him. He doesn't hesitate to climb back into bed with you and unapologetically wrap you in his arms. You rest your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat as he runs his fingers through your hair, occasionally pressing kissing to the crown of your head or your temple. Then, just like the whole reason this started, you fall asleep on his chest, feeling safe and wanted for the first time in years.

#one for the money two for the show #the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel tlou #the last of us x reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #tlou smut #rockstar!joel #rockstar!joel miller #tlou au #the last of us au #I don’t know what happened either #I did warn y’all though

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