Ad Astra Per Aspera

😍😍😍

Ad Astra Per Aspera

Pairing: Joel Miller X fem!Reader | W/C: ~6.3K | Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: You give Joel a birthday gift to remember before the world falls apart.

A/N: This will probably rip your heart out…but in like a sexy way. Missed you all.x

Artwork credit (far right): Refael Suissa | Irefaels

Warnings: Set it in the TLOU TV universe / follows the show’s timeline and locations (Austin / Jackson). Heavy sexual tension. Frustrated / grumpy Joel. Reader is a bit of a minx. Latin language (duh). Flirting / seduction. Alcohol / scenes take place in a bar. Sarah / Ellie / Tommy are in this. Good Dad!Joel. Implied canon-typical violence. Slight age gap (make it your own, but in my mind reader is about seven years younger than Joel). Joel get’s explicit consent. Raw, passionate smut. Smut with implied but undiscussed feelings. Oral (M / F receiving). Fingering. Praise kink. Dirty talk. Slight size kink. Unprotected P in V. Cum eating. Cum on face (a.k.a. Joel turns you into his birthday cake). Chair sex. Implied violet!Joel. No use of Y/N. No use of daddy. Use of good girl. Reader has female sex anatomy and has slight implied feminine descriptors. Could be seen as a happy or un-happy ending. Let me know if I missed anything!

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Ad Astra Per Aspera  ~ “Through Hardship to the Stars” 

++++

Austin, Texas  – September 26, 2003

"Damn it, Dan! This delay's gonna cost us a whole week—we're already playing catch-up," Joel barks into his Nokia, barely catching the muffled murmurs coming from the other end. "Look, just fix it. I'm done here. Bye." With a snap, he ends the call and tosses his phone into the faded pocket of his jeans, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in sheer frustration.

The annoyance is written all over his face, but it's nothing compared to the storm brewing inside. Delay after delay has catapulted this job to the top of his 'worst-ever' list. 

And to top it off, it's his birthday – a day he hasn’t really ever been fond of, mostly because it just means he’s getting old. He doesn’t need his birthday to remind him of that, though. His back does a fine job of it every morning. 

 "Screw it, one beer won't kill me," he mutters under his breath. Seeing your smile might even help, too. 

Joel jumps into his truck, his toolbox landing on the passenger seat with a puff of dust. He notices a pack of Tommy’s cigarettes on the dash and toys with the idea of lighting up, but he can already hear Sarah’s nagging if she catches a whiff. It’s just a short drive to the bar.

"Must be a full moon or something," he grumbles, trying to drown out the constant wail of sirens with Hank Williams' twang. Alone, he belts out a lyric or two, a guilty pleasure he’d never share in company.

He pulls into the Whiskey Ward parking lot—only one other car there. Yours. 

Joel instinctively glances at his wrist, remembering too late his watch is out of commission. Need to fix that thing, he thinks to himself as he steps out, his work boots hitting the pavement. He runs a hand through his just starting to grey hair and pushes open the wooden door.

Inside, the bar is quiet, and there you are, perched on the bartop, legs crossed, engrossed in a textbook with a CD-player by your side. You haven't noticed him yet, so he takes a moment just to watch you, finally easing onto a leather stool at the far end of the bar. After a few moments, he clears his throat to get your attention.

"Oh, shit – Joel! Hi,” you exclaim, pulling off your headphones and sliding off the bartop with a graceful hop. The move briefly reveals a flash of your midriff, smooth and unexpected. Joel's hands clench into fists at his sides, a jolt of surprise tightening his grip.

"Rough day?" you muse, sliding a napkin across the bar to Joel with a casual grace, offering a fleeting glimpse of your figure as you pour him a Coors—his usual.

"Yeah—somethin' like that," he grumbles, reaching for the glass. His fingers brush yours, causing your skin to flush a bit. He notices.

"Quiet in here for a Friday, huh? Didn't expect to be the only one," he comments, sipping his beer to quench the heat of the day, yet feeling the alcohol's warm embrace relaxing his muscles.

"Odd day, really. Barely had two customers," you lean back against the bar, your stance casual yet poised, "Or maybe I did it just for you."

Joel looks puzzled.

"Maybe I cleared the place out, kept it just for you... seeing as it's your birthday and all," you add, inching closer to his side of the bar.

"Hm," Joel hums, another sip hiding his smile. "You know about that, huh?"

"Of course – remembered the first time you flashed your I.D.," you wink, sending a warm rush through him like a dip in a hot tub.

“And here I was thinkin’ you thought I was some kid tryin’ to sneak in a beer,” he teases.

Your laughter fills the air, more refreshing to him than the beer itself. Leaning in, he wonders if you're this close with everyone or just him.

"What's that you're reading?" Joel nods toward the textbook still open on the bartop.

Caught off guard, too absorbed in the features of his face, you blink. "Huh?"

"Your book," he gestures again.

"Oh, right—it's for my Master's in Latin history," you explain nonchalantly.

Joel whistles lowly, clearly impressed. "Learn anythin’ good?"

"It's Latin," you quip, matter-of-factly.

"So? Teach me something, Darlin'."

Darlin'. He rarely uses it, but when he does—you feel it in places you think you maybe shouldn’t. 

"Well, I’m currently reading about the Roman poet Seneca. Kinda reminds me of you, actually."

"That so?"

"No." You tease, smiling. "You might be a bit grumpy sometimes, but he’s got you beat there—even on your birthday."

Joel's smirk grows. "That obvious, huh?"

"Just a bit," you tease back, your voice playful yet laced with an undertone that makes his heart beat a bit faster. You lean closer, your arms crossing nonchalantly on the bar, but every move calculated to draw him in. 

The space between you seems charged with electricity; the air thickens palpably, as if every breath you take is shared. His gaze, intense and unyielding, drifts from your eyes down to your lips, lingering there, tracing the curve with an almost tangible thirst.

"Another?" you whisper, the words barely more than a breath, a soft, inviting caress against his face.

"Sure," he replies, his voice a low rumble, smooth but noticeably thick with anticipation. His eyes hold yours a moment longer, burning with a mixture of desire and curiosity, before you pull away. 

As you move to refill his glass, the distance feels like a sudden cold snap, and the absence of your nearness leaves him oddly bereft, eager for you to return and cut through the growing tension.

You fill his glass carefully, less foam this time, and return. 

"Ad Astra Per Aspera," you say, placing it before him, his confusion mirrored in his smirk.

"You havin’ a stroke or something?" he teases.

You laugh, "No, it's Latin. It means 'through hardships to the stars.'"

He contemplates the phrase, letting it seep in. "Is that your way of saying my day will get better?"

"Not exactly," you draw nearer, voice lowering to a sultry whisper. "But I can think of something that will..."

It’s now or never, you think. 

Your lips hover just over his.

"Kiss me."

His stomach feels like a lead ball just dropped into it. He pauses, contemplating his next move. He knows he shouldn't, but he can't resist. His hand finds the nape of your neck, pulling you in, his lips claiming yours in a kiss that promises more than just a better day.

It's not the type of kiss the prince gives a princess at the ball. No. It’s needy. A fierce, messy little thing. 

The scratch of his stubble sends a thrilling tickle across your skin, igniting a warm flush that spreads deliciously through you. You catch his lip gently between your teeth, releasing a soft moan as he draws you closer, your toes barely touching the ground. When the kiss breaks, your fingers instinctively touch your lips, as if to preserve the sensation that's transformed them.

With a playful smile, you begin to retreat, your fingers curling in a seductive beckon for him to follow. Joel's eyes track your every move as you flip the bar's sign from 'open' to 'closed'. Does this mean what he thinks it means? 

His hopes surge as you stride confidently to the front door, locking it with a decisive click. The sound of metal securing into metal seems to seal not just the door, but the promise of what’s to come. 

You lean back against the solid wood, hips cocked slightly, your stance an open invitation as you catch his gaze with a daring, expectant look.

He catches your drift and takes a few large strides forward. 

Faster than a blink, he’s on you, one hand on your hip, the other firm on the back of your neck. He crowds you back, pinning you harder between the door and him. You knew he was a big man, that much is obvious, but with the way he’s on you right now, he’s all you can see, feel, hear – it’s intoxicating. 

He lowers his head to your neck, his lips grazing the skin of your throat. The touch sends shivers down your spine, your pulse quickening under his mouth. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, his breath warm against your skin. His grip tightens, his fingers digging into your hip, grounding you. 

“You sure you wanna do this, darlin’,” he murmurs, “you can still say no.”

You feel the soft press of his lips against your erratic pulse, the slow drag of his teeth drag up the side of your neck.

A moan slips from your lips.

“Words, baby.” He sucks a mark on your throat, and you melt a little more under his touch, sinking deeper and deeper into all things him. 

“God – yes, yes Joel, I want you, I’m sure,” you say, maybe a little too eager. Your words earn a small groan from him. 

“Not doin’ this jus’ cause it’s my birthday,” he asks, his firm hand still on the back of your neck. You angle your chin to face him, and his lips find yours. He kisses exactly the way you thought he would – it’s deep, intense, commanding. 

You moan into his mouth as he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, and you twist your hands into the fabric of his shirt. Your fingertips graze the top of his belt, then drop lower, feeling the hard shape of him through the denim.

“No, Joel. I think you and I both know that I’ve wanted you for a long time,” you confirm, the sincerity evident in your voice. 

His breath hitches at your touch, and he presses even closer, his hips grinding against you. You can feel his heartbeat, rapid and strong, matching the pounding in your chest. His lips leave yours, trailing hot kisses down your jawline to the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Fuck,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice thick with desire.

Your hand moves more boldly now, tracing the outline of him with your fingers, feeling him harden even more under your touch. He groans, the sound vibrating through you, and you can’t help but arch into him, seeking more contact.

“Nope, ” he purrs, “Wanna see you first…it’s my birthday, after all.” 

His hands roam over your body, exploring every curve and dip. He finds the hem of your shirt and tugs it upward, breaking away from you just long enough to pull it over your head. He discards it carelessly, his eyes darkening as they rake over your now-exposed skin.

You toe off your shoes and work to take off your bra, all while Joel unbuttons your jeans. You wiggle your hips to assist him in removing the barrier. After what seems like no time at all, you’re nearly fully nude in front of him, bare the thin lace of your panties. 

“Fuck me,” Joel says, taking a small step back and admiring the view. He looks at you like you’re a piece of art, prettier than anything he could have conjured up in his mind. Certainly prettier a man like him deserves, but he’s not in the mood to question or overthink things now. 

He steps forward and puts his hand on your waist, using his thumb to trail over your soft skin. Goosebumps collect like pebbles on your skin from the cool air, and your nipples harden from his touch.

You push your chest to him, for him. He accepts your offering; swipes a calloused thumb across your plush, silky nipple, and crouches to catch the other in his desperate mouth. He groans into your chest the second your nipple meets his lips. You can’t control the deep hum that escapes from your throat. Joel smirks at the sound, lips still attached to your breast.

“Joel,” you moan.

He trails kisses down the valley of your breasts, across the soft swell of your stomach, whispering praise against your skin as he goes. His voice is a low, soothing murmur, each word sending shivers down your spine. You drape your hands over his broad shoulders, fingers threading through the curls that gather at the back of his head, holding him close as he works his way down to the band of your panties.

On his knees, he places both of his hands on the curves of your hips and holds you steady while he looks up at you. He looks up at you like a man starved, his pupils so dark they edge out most of the brown, his hooded eyes are almost a plea for you to let him continue.

“Can I taste you?” he asks, already hooking his thumbs in the band of them, awaiting your permission. 

You pause with your mouth agape a bit, he wants to taste you. You’ve never had a man ask before, a fact that makes what he’s doing to you right now even hotter. 

“Go on, birthday boy,” you tease. His prominent nose presses into your mound and groans. 

“Thas’ right, being such a good little present for me,” he praises. His cock twitches against the confines of his jeans.

His hands are warm and sure as they slide beneath the fabric, pulling your panties down with agonizing slowness. You take a small step out of them, and he gently caresses up the back of your calve and back of your thigh, his hand landing on the curve of your ass. He tightly grabs the flesh there. 

He gently guides your leg up onto one of his shoulders, and you press back into the wall and lean your pelvis closer to him. The anticipation is electric, every nerve ending in your body alive and buzzing with need. His lips follow the path of his hands, kissing along the newly exposed skin, his breath hot against your thighs.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he praises before leaning in to place an experimental kiss on the top of your mound. You let out a soft little sound at the feeling of his lips on your skin. 

He gets bold with his kisses, and once you’re comfortable with his mouth on you, he glides his middle finger through your dropping folds before flipping it so it’s wrist up, pausing with the pad of it right at the entrance of your tight hole. 

You look down at him with your lusty doe eyes that have been driving him crazy since he first saw you and bite your lower lip in anticipation. He looks at you and gently nudges the nip in, he holds it there for a brief second before fully thrusting it up into your core, holding your gaze as he enters you. You gasp.

“Tight little thing, too, ain’t cha’,” he moans as he continues to feel you, eventually putting his mouth back on your pussy, his lips sealed around your puffy clit. His large finger pumps in and out of you as his tongue flicks and swirls where you need him the most. 

“More,” you moan, “Fuck–please, Joel, give me more,” you mewle. 

“I will, baby,” he whispers against your wet skin as he slips another finger in, one you greedily accept. 

He devours you, and eats you from the inside out. His tongue is precise and relentless, each flick and swirl overwhelming your senses. It's so good, so intense, that you feel like you're going to come apart at the seams.

“Joel,” you gasp, your voice trembling with need. “I—”

He looks up at you briefly, his eyes dark with hunger and desire, before doubling down on his efforts. The world narrows to the sensation of his tongue, the heat of his mouth, and the steady rhythm that drives you closer and closer to the edge.

Heat pools in your lower abdomen, and the world becomes fuzzy at the edges of your vision. 

You moan as he sets a relentless pace with his mouth and fingers, slowly tightening the coil inside of you in a way you’ve never felt before. Time slows briefly, and your vision goes white, little specks of light dancing behind your eyelids, heat rushing up to your chest and cheeks. 

Until – 

“Oh my god, don’t stop,” you unravel for him, a babbling mess of pleasure, he holds you steady as he works you through it. And when he’s satisfied that you’re satisfied, he gently hoists your leg off of his shoulder and rises to his full height. 

“You look even more gorgeous when you’re cumming for me, you know that,” he whispers against your neck, nipping at your jaw until his lips find yours. You taste yourself on them, feel the wetness in his beard. He slips his tongue into your mouth, and you moan. It’s so hot to taste yourself on him, dizzying that wants to taste you on his tongue. 

“Can it be my turn now…,” you wink at him, hooking your fingers into his belt loops.

“It is your birthday after all.” 

This time it’s your turn to press him back, and you do, guiding him until he bumps into the bar. You pull one of the stools out and he takes a seat. 

On jelly-like legs, you begin to kneel before him, holding his gaze as you do. The look in his eyes is enough to make you forget the slight sting in your knees from the hardness of the floor beneath you. 

You place your hands on his thick thighs, gliding them up to meet his belt. You watch his face as you make quick work of unbuckling it. His breath hitches, eyes darkening with desire.

Pants next, you pull the zipper down, and he helps you take them all the way off. You pause to palm the length of him under the single piece of fabric left on him, feeling the heat and hardness beneath. His breath catches, and you see the muscles in his jaw tighten.

With deliberate slowness, you pull his boxers down, far enough for his cock to finally spring free. The length of him slaps against his soft tummy, leaving a little smear of pre-cum in its wake. You can’t help but take a moment to admire him, the sight of him fully aroused, sending a fresh wave of desire through you.

You wrap your hand around him, feeling his weight and heat, and his hips jerk slightly at the contact. You look up at him, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure, lips parted as he watches you intently.

You wrap your hand around his thick, throbbing cock, your grip firm yet teasingly slow as you begin to stroke him with a deliberate, rhythmic pace. The sheer weight of it in your hand sends a thrill through you, and you can't help but admire the size and power beneath your touch. 

Joel’s head tilts back, his eyes fluttering closed as if he’s surrendering to the pleasure, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. His arms stretch out, muscles taut, until his hands grip the edge of the bartop, anchoring himself as you work him with skillful, unrelenting strokes.

You wet your lips, duck down to the base of his shaft, and plant a small kiss at the base of his cock. 

“Shit,” Joel groans. 

You hum as you flatten your tongue and lick a long, wet stripe up the underside of his cock and stop at the top with your mouth open wide. As you hold the tip of him in your mouth, your tongue darts out to taste the salty, musky flavor of his pre-cum. One of his hands frees from the bar to tangle in your hair, to guide you gently down as you take him into your mouth.

The sounds he makes as you begin to move are nothing short of primal. You can feel his thighs tense beneath your palms, his breath coming in ragged gasps as you work him with your mouth and hands.

You hollow your cheeks, taking him deeper, the feel of him against your tongue and the sounds of his pleasure spurring you on. His fingers tighten in your hair, guiding your movements, his control slipping with each passing second.

“Shit – shit, baby you gotta stop…gonna make me cum too soon,” he pleads. 

He can’t have that. He needs to fuck you. He’s not sure he’s ever needed anything more. 

You smile around him, the vibration of your laughter making him shudder. You ease off his cock, and look up at him with hungry eyes. He pulls you up by the back of your neck and brings his hands to your hips. 

“Fuck, look at you,” he says, “think you might be prettier than all the stars in the universe.” 

It’s cheesy. Too cheesy. He’d be more embarrassed if he wasn’t so fucked out. 

“Need to fuck you,” he rasps in your ear. “Come here,” he demands, patting his lap. 

You look at him for a moment. Does he mean on the stoo–

Before you can finish the thought, he reaches out and pulls you forward, aiding you on top of him. His cock is now nestled gently between your soaking folds, just waiting to be inside. He holds you close to his chest, tight enough for the both of you to keep your balance. 

You tangle your fingers through his hair as he nips at your jaw. 

“Feelings mutual, cowboy,” you rasp. 

“I don’t have a condom,” he says, a little quiet. 

“I’m on the pill. Please, Joel, please fuck me,” you wiggle your hips a little on top of him, the thickness of his cock rubbing against your still throbbing clit. 

With a firm but gentle touch, Joel lifts you just enough to position himself at the entrance of your slick, eager heat. As you begin to lower yourself onto him, you gasp when he fills you halfway, the stretch sending shivers up your spine. Sensing your need to adjust, he holds you there, his grip steady as your heart pounds in your chest, your eyes fluttering closed from the overwhelming sensation.

"Eyes on me, baby," he rasps, his voice thick with desire. You force your eyes open, locking onto his, and in that moment, he pushes deeper, taking you inch by inch. When he pauses again, halfway inside, he studies your face with a mix of concern and hunger.

"You okay?” he asks, his tone laced with restraint. You shake your head yes, breathlessly telling him you want all of him.

Once he's certain you're ready, he thrusts his hips up, releasing his hold just enough to let you sink fully down onto him. The sensation of him filling you completely, every inch buried deep inside, leaves you both trembling with a shared intensity, the connection between you electric and undeniable.

Your pussy clenches around him, your jaw going slack as he fills you completely. Joel fucks you with deep, deliberate strokes, each one slow and measured, giving you time to savor the way he stretches you, to adjust to every inch of his thick length. He holds you tight against him, the heat between your bodies building, making the little space that remains sticky with sweat and desire.

His breath is hot in your ear, whispering praises that send shivers down your spine. His hands grip your hips with a firm, guiding pressure, helping you ride him just the way he knows you need. Each movement is a teasing dance, his cock barely leaving the warmth of your cunt before you're slamming back down, taking him to the hilt again and again.

This position drives you wild—the way his thick, coarse hair brushes against your clit with every thrust, adding just the right amount of friction. It’s the perfect cushion, the perfect tease, amplifying every sensation as you move on top of him, your body attuned to his in the most intimate way possible.

“Holy fuck —” his words break with a moan again,  “That’s it, baby, ride me, use me…god.”

His words ignite something primal within you. As his hands grip your ass, you brace yourself on his shoulders and start to ride him harder, letting him guide your movements with each firm squeeze. His cock hits that perfect spot inside you, the one that sends waves of pleasure crashing through your body, making your thoughts blur into a haze of raw, unfiltered need.

With every thrust, he pumps into you with a rhythm that drives you wild, your moans growing louder and more desperate. The room is filled with the obscene, intoxicating sound of your bodies colliding, skin slapping against skin in a symphony of pure, unbridled lust.

“I’m gonna come again,” you gasp, your voice breathless and quivering, as the pressure inside you builds to an unbearable peak.

“Yeah?” he says, breath short, voice deep, “Such a good girl, want you to come for me, show me how pretty you cum.” You think you could come from just his words alone. 

Your pussy pulses around him as the wave of your orgasm takes over you, your mind hazy and filled with nothing but the thought of the way he fills you just right.

His movements begin to slow, and his grip on your ass tightens. You can tell he’s close.

“Where do you want me?”

Part of you wants to say inside, but there’s something that you want more.

“Fuck. Fuck. Face. Want you to cum on my face.” Joel’s lips lift a little at the corner, finding your answer a bit unexpected.

After a few more thrusts of his hips, he begins to stutter and slow. You take that as your cue to ease yourself off of his cock. He steadies you a bit with one hand, the other still pumping his thick length as you once again fall to your knees. 

You bow at the altar of the man above you, your hands placed dutifully on your knees, watching, waiting patiently for him to cum. 

“Gonna cum now, baby….can’t hold off an–” his words trail off as thick ropes of cum spurt out of him, landing warm and thick on your face. 

Once finished, you stay where you are, opening your eyes to once again look at him. You smile as you watch his breaths, now coming a bit more ragged, and the way his drooling cock looks so good gripped in his hands. 

He holds your gaze as you bring your finger to your face to gather the cum that’s gathered on “I’ve always wanted to be a birthday cake,” you tease with a wink, your playful tone hitting its mark. Joel blushes, a rare sight that makes you smile.

“You’re too much, you know that, darlin’?” he murmurs, his voice low and full of warmth.

“Too much, or just enough,” you counter, rising with a grin, accepting the free hand he’s offered to help you off the floor. You reach behind him for a cocktail napkin, handing one to him before using the other to wipe the rest of the mess on your face.

Once clean and redressed, the two of you stand there, the earlier momentum slowing as reality starts to creep back in. For a moment, neither of you is quite sure what to do next.

“Want another beer?” you offer, breaking the silence.

“Sure, why not,” Joel agrees, sliding into a nearby booth. He watches as you pour not one, but two beers, bringing them both to the table. Instead of sitting across from him, you slide in beside him, your thigh brushing against his as you settle in.

His hand naturally finds its place on your leg, the weight of it grounding and comforting. It feels right, easy, as if it’s always belonged there. With the bar still closed, the world outside forgotten, the two of you lose yourselves in conversation, flirting, kissing, laughing—everything flows effortlessly.

It always has with you.

“What time is it?” Joel asks, glancing around as if the hours haven’t slipped by unnoticed. He’s so caught up in you that he nearly forgets about the rest of the world, about Sarah waiting for him at home.

You glance at the clock behind the bar and feel a small jolt of surprise. “Oh shit, it’s almost 10 pm. We’ve been at this nearly all night.”

“Damn. I’m sorry, I really gotta get goin’. Sarah’s waiting for me,” Joel says, regret heavy in his voice. But you understand—he’s always spoken about Sarah with such love and pride. You know he’s a good dad, maybe even a great one, and it warms your heart to see it.

You both rise, walking together toward the door. Joel unlocks it, but before stepping out, he turns to face you. His eyes soften as they take you in, as if he’s trying to capture this moment, this image of you, and burn it into his memory. 

God, you’re beautiful. You always have been. You shine with the light of a thousand suns.

He kisses you goodbye, and your stomach tightens, that familiar ache of knowing this could be the end of something special. But as he pulls back, he catches your gaze, and his expression reassures you.

“See you soon,” he promises, his voice a gentle vow.

His lips leave yours, and you watch him as he steps out the door, the night air cool against your flushed skin.

“Hey, Joel?” you call out just as he’s a few steps into the parking lot.

He turns back, his silhouette framed by the lights in the parking lot. 

“Happy birthday, old man,” you say with a final wink, your voice carrying the warmth of everything unsaid.

He shakes his head with a small smile, lingering for a moment longer, taking in the sight of you—perched against the doorframe, hair slightly tousled, skin still glowing. It’s an image he knows he’ll remember forever.

As he drives away, he glances up at the night sky, the stars twinkling above. Maybe Seneca was on to something, he thinks, a small smile tugging at his lips as he heads home.

++++

The house is bathed in a soft, warm glow, the kind that only comes from years of memories and quiet evenings. Joel pushes the door open carefully, trying not to disturb the peace. Inside, the flicker of the television bathes the room in muted light, a newscaster’s voice droning in the background.

As the door clicks shut behind him, Joel’s eyes adjust to the dimness, and he spots Sarah on the couch, her attention absorbed in a magazine.

“You locked the door for once. Good job,” Joel remarks, a hint of pride in his voice.

“Yeah,” Sarah replies softly, her voice tinged with the weariness of waiting up.

Joel collapses onto the couch beside her, the leather creaking under his weight, the day’s exhaustion catching up with him.

“It’s 10,” Sarah says, her tone flat, but the disappointment is unmistakable.

“I know. I’m sorry, bad day at work,” Joel admits, his voice heavy. He’s never been one to hide the truth from her, but he doesn’t burden her with the details, or the truth of why he’s really late.

“Where’s the cake?” she asks, a small reminder of the promise he made that morning.

“Shit,” Joel sighs, rubbing a hand over his tired face.

“Come on, man,” Sarah teases, though there’s a touch of hurt in her voice.

“I’ll get us one tomorrow,” Joel promises, his heart sinking at the sight of her slight frown. He hates letting her down.

“Swear, or you don’t get your present,” Sarah says, a playful smile brightening her face again.

“You got me a present?” Joel’s eyes light up, genuinely surprised.

“Swear,” she insists, her smile widening.

“On my life,” he vows, his voice deep and serious this time. 

With a grin, Sarah reaches behind the couch cushion and pulls out a small gray box. Joel takes it, examining it with curiosity before carefully opening it.

“Fixed it for you,” Sarah says, watching him intently.

Joel lifts the watch from the box, admiring it for a second before holding it to his ear with a grin.

“Did you? I don’t hear anything,” he jokes, enjoying the mix of confusion and disbelief on her face before he bursts into laughter.

“That was lame. You’re lame,” Sarah quips, rolling her eyes but unable to hide her affection.

“Yeah, I know,” Joel chuckles. “Where’d you get the money for this?”

“Drugs. I sell hardcore drugs,” she deadpans, causing Joel to scoff in amusement.

“It’s better than what I do,” he mutters, shaking his head.

“It was only 20 dollars…which I stole from you,” Sarah admits, flashing him a mischievous smile. Joel gives her a mock stern look.

“I could have stolen 60 but I put the change back ‘cause I’m an honest thief. Besides, it’s the thought that counts, and you were never gonna do it for yourself...so…” she trails off, her voice softening.

Joel looks at the watch again, carefully strapping it on, his heart swelling with gratitude.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely.

“Oh, there’s one more,” Sarah adds, reaching behind the pillow again and pulling out a DVD—Curtis and Viper 2.

“Borrowed it from the Adlers,” she explains.

“Ah, this is the one with the deleted scenes,” Joel says, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice.

“Yeah, imagine how bad those have to be,” Sarah replies dryly.

“Come on, pop it in, while it’s still your birthday,” she urges, snuggling up against him as he moves to the TV and slips the DVD in.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Joel warns, swelling at the feel of her head resting on his shoulder.

“Of course I won’t, it’s too riveting,” Sarah promises, even though they both know how it will end.

The movie begins, but it isn’t long before Sarah drifts off, her soft breathing a lullaby to Joel. His cellphone rings, breaking the quiet, and he answers it, careful not to disturb her.

“Hello,” Joel says quietly.

“Joel. It’s me. I’m okay,” Tommy’s voice crackles through the line, rough and anxious.

“Yeah?” Joel’s heart sinks, sensing trouble. His little brother always did have a knack for getting in trouble. 

“But I’m in jail,” Tommy admits.

“God damn it,” Joel snaps, his voice low but tense.

“It wasn’t my fault this time. I was at the bar, some guy goes crazy, starts swinging at a waitress, I step in, knock him out, cops show up…but it doesn’t matter. You gotta bail me out. If you don’t get me out tonight, I’m in here all weekend,” Tommy pleads, a desperate edge in his voice.

Joel pauses, the weight of the situation settling on him.

“It’s a fuckin’ madhouse, Joel. I gotta get out,” Tommy presses.

“Well, which jail, Travis County?” Joel asks, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah, on the 10,” Tommy confirms.

“God damn it, Tommy,” Joel mutters, frustration bubbling up.

“I’m sorry. Please,” Tommy’s voice softens, regret lacing his words.

“Okay,” Joel agrees, resigned.

“Fucking idiot,” he murmurs to himself after ending the call.

He thinks back to your comment about Seneca having the upper hand on frustration. What would you think if you could see him now? 

With a sigh, Joel gently lifts Sarah from his lap, cradling her against his chest as he carries her to her bed. He tucks her in carefully, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

If he knew what awaited him the second he stepped out of the house, he never would have left.

Jackson, Wyoming – September 26, 2028 “Ellie!” Joel calls up the stairs, putting the finishing touches on her school lunch in the kitchen.

She descends the staircase, her focus completely engulfed by an ancient Latin history book. "Hey Joel, do you know what 'Ad Asturrah…Per..As..prurah' means?" Ellie’s attempt at the phrase is adorably muddled as she tries to wrangle the words from her mouth. 

In that instant, Joel's world blurs, and time seems to stretch and thin. 

He's suddenly no longer in their home in Jackson; he's whisked back to the last normal night he ever had, lying next to you, the comfort and closeness a sharp contrast to the bleakness that followed.

"Through Hardships to the Stars," Joel replies, his voice a quiet echo of times past. The words flow effortlessly, as if they've been longing to break free for years.

"Oh shit. Wasn’t expecting you to actually know that – where’d you learn that, smartie pants?" Ellie’s playful challenge pulls him sharply back to the present.

“No more questions now, off you go to school,” he says with a gentle firmness, a tone that Ellie knows means business.

“Fine, whatever, but only ‘cause it’s your birthday. Happy birthday, old man.” Her voice carries a teasing lilt as she scampers off.

Happy birthday, old man. 

You had said that, too. 

Joel moves to stand by the window, a freshly brewed coffee in hand, gazing at the morning sun that bathes the world in gold and promise, despite the gloom and grime that lines beyond the gates of Jackson. 

His mind wanders through the tumultuous paths of his past—the dire situations, the desperate choices, the blood forever on his hands, nights spent on unforgiving earth—all underscored by the gentle cadence of your voice.

As he closes his eyes, darkness envelops him, but it's not void of light. He sees stars—luminous, unreachable, eternal. In that vast canvas of night, there you are, indelibly etched in his heart.

And there you will always be.

END

A/N Continued: Thank you so much for reading! As much as I'd love to say I don't care about the notes, I won't lie and tell you I don't need them for validation. If you like this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging.

Tagging some moots for visibility since I've been MIA for so long:

@endlessthxxghts @syd-djarin @yxtkiwiyxt @auteurdelabre @morallyinept @mermaidgirl30 @survivingandenduring @morning-star-joy @merz-8 @alltheirdamn @chulopascal @sweetercalypso @xdaddysprincessxx @burntheedges @punkshort @pedrostories @bastardmandennis @milly-louise @ghostwritesthings @josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @ohheypedrito @ozarkthedog @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro @darkheartgatita @joelmillerisapunk P.S. Since I'm back from my hiatus, please tag me in your fics! I would love to read and support you all.x

“Anythin’ that’s broken, I can fix it.”

😭😭😭

JOOOEEELLLLLLL!!!! My heart hurts so bad from seeing his POV about this moment!

Broken

Thank you anon for this request!

An I Know Who You Are one-shot

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel finds out you got hurt on patrol.

Warnings: Joel POV, language, allusions to smut, descriptions of injuries/blood, amnesia, angst

WC: 2.5K

When Joel had knocked on Maria's door that morning, he still wore a small smile on his face as images of your perfect morning flashed across his eyes. The way your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he flexed his hips, the breathy sounds you made in his ear, how tight you felt wrapped around his cock.

At that point in his life, he assumed he was not meant for happiness. He had been through too much. The world threw everything it had at him and he crumbled. He let it ruin him and forge him into a cold, distant shell of who he once was.

And then he met you.

You were like a beam of light in an otherwise dark world. A breath of fresh air in a prison cell. A beautiful, yellow flower that grew amongst the disastrous landscape surrounding him. He couldn't help but be drawn to you. To want to lose himself in you, if you'd let him. And against all odds, you wanted him too.

You wanted him, too.

What were the chances? Finding love in the world before was nearly impossible. Once he found you, he began to wonder for the first time if all his suffering had meaning. If everything terrible and rotten that happened to him was all pushing him along on a path to find you.

Maria swung the door open with Violet wrapped around her hip and she grinned.

"You look pretty chipper this morning."

Joel immediately wiped the smile off his face and replaced it with a frown. He preferred to reserve that side of himself just for you.

"Tommy said y'need the dresser looked at?"

She nodded and stepped to the side so he could enter. He toed off his boots and glanced around. Jackson didn't have much, but the community did well with what they had, including toys for kids. Last he heard, the town had a monthly rotation of toys for all the little ones so everyone got to have a turn with the best ones.

He made a mental note to look for some new ones when he was outside the walls next.

"It's Violet's dresser," Maria explained, shifting his niece on her hip and leading him towards the back of the house. "Caught her climbing it last week, nearly gave me a heart attack."

She flicked on the light to Violet's room and made a face when she looked at the broken drawers.

"Well, better the dresser broke than the kid," he said, crouching down to get a better look.

"Do you think you can fix it?"

He gave the other drawers a tug, testing them to make sure they weren't damaged as well before standing with a groan.

"I'll have to make new drawers, this wood's busted, but yeah. Anythin' that's broken, I can fix it."

Maria gasped excitedly and looked at Violet, eyes wide and mouth spread into a huge smile. "Did you hear that? Uncle Joel's gonna fix your dresser, baby!"

He couldn't help but smile when Violet said, "thank you," with some prompting from Maria, of course.

"You're welcome. Just don't go climbin' on it when I'm done."

Joel spent the rest of the morning at the woodshed collecting scraps of two by fours that he could use to create two dresser drawers from scratch. At first, he thought he was in over his head. In a different life with all the right tools, he could have done this task without breaking a sweat.

"'Anythin' that's broken, I can fix it'," he scoffed, repeating his earlier words under his breath with a shake of his head. "The hell was I thinkin'?"

But he used what he had at his disposal, even if it meant using an axe to cut the right pieces of wood for the job instead of an electric saw. With a little patience and some thinking outside the box, he finally collected all the supplies he needed in a wheelbarrow and began his trek back to Tommy's house.

"Hey, before you get started, come in and have something to eat," Maria called from the window. He nodded and shrugged off his flannel, leaving it draped over the wheelbarrow before heading inside.

When he walked into the kitchen, he was greeted with a sandwich and some lemonade on the kitchen table next to Violet, who was nibbling on some fruit and toast and singing along to some children's songs playing from a radio.

"It's all I can get her to eat lately," Maria explained when she said down across from him. "She's growing into a picky eater and it's freaking killing me."

"Mama, bad word," Violet warned with her little chubby finger pointed straight up in the air. Joel chuckled and took a bite of his sandwich.

"I didn't say a bad word, baby, it just sounded like a bad word," she said, then once Violet looked away, she rolled her eyes at Joel and mouthed she hears everything.

He ate mostly in silence, half listening to Violet's music, half thinking about how he was going to tackle the next phase of his project when Maria spoke again.

"So, you think you guys'll end up having one of these?" she asked, casually nodding towards Violet. He glanced up at her in surprise before shifting his eyes to his niece.

"Uh, well..." he nervously scratched the back of his neck as he considered her question. It wasn't something you hadn't talked about but he had been thinking a lot more about it since Violet was born. His mind was screaming absolutely not, it's not safe, it's careless and irresponsible. He couldn't protect Sarah, how could he protect a newborn or keep a toddler from having a tantrum and attracting raiders or clickers?

But then Violet squealed with delight when a berry squished between her fingers and he felt that pull in his chest that he'd been trying to ignore for the past year.

"Dunno. Maybe one day," he finally told her.

"Gonna make an honest woman of her first?" Maria asked as she cleaned up Violet's hands.

"Don't think that's really our thing," Joel replied. And it wasn't. Well, not really. He had a hell of a time trying to settle you down in the first place. He couldn't imagine what the idea of marriage would do to you. And that didn't bother him. At this point, it didn't really matter. You were his, and he was yours, and that's just how it would always be.

After he helped Maria clean up lunch, he headed back outside. The sun was shining but the temperature was comfortable while he worked. And once he had all his supplies and a plan, everything came together rather quickly. Which was good because you and Tommy would be due back from patrol any minute and he very much wanted to relax with you the rest of the day and maybe tend to the garden if either of you had any energy left.

He was just finishing up the drawers and about to take them inside when he heard Tommy shouting his name. Before he even turned around, Joel's blood ran cold. He knew that tone. Something was wrong.

He swiveled around, his face already ghostly pale, knowing and bracing for the inevitable yet he still held out hope and swept his gaze around, hoping and fucking praying he would spot you.

"Joel, c'mon," Tommy panted, swinging his arm as he began to jog back in the opposite direction. Joel grabbed his blue flannel and raced after him, his blood pressure skyrocketing.

"Is she bit?"

Tommy shook his head and Joel felt his heart slow, but it was short lived when he saw the look on his brother's face.

"Is she hurt?"

"She hit her head," Tommy said, pushing people out of the way as they made their way to the infirmary. "She's awake but somethin' ain't right."

"What'dya mean? If she's awake after a head injury, that's gotta be good, right?"

Tommy cast him a forlorn look as they reached the steps of the building. "She can't remember."

Joel frowned. "Can't remember what?"

Tommy's eyes shifted around as they paused for a moment on the stairs. "She can't remember... any of it. The outbreak. This town... nothin'."

Joel swallowed and dropped his chin to his chest. He was grateful you were alive, grateful you weren't seriously injured, but this? This was not something he expected.

"So you're sayin' she don't remember me?"

Tommy's silence was all he needed to know. Joel's chest tightened and he felt his legs begin to shake. This wasn't real. He just saw you a few hours ago. He just fucked you a few hours ago. He was just talking to Maria about your future together... how could this be happening?

"Maybe..." he began, then pinched his eyes shut when he felt the swell of anxiety rise and squeeze his throat. "Maybe she just needs to see me."

"Joel, we gotta be careful 'bout this," Tommy warned, "she's real spooked. I almost couldn't get her to come back with me. She was talkin' 'bout goin' home and findin' her family-"

Joel's face crumpled. "You're fuckin' with me, right?" he croaked, blinking back tears. Tommy averted his gaze and shook his head, giving Joel a moment. He collapsed on the bottom step and hung his head between his knees, trying to focus on taking deep breaths and clearing his vision, but he could feel it. He felt it all those years ago when Sarah died in his arms and he felt it again: the shock that melted into despair which inevitably morphed into white hot rage.

"Joel..." Tommy said lowly, picking up on the shift in his brother's eyes.

"I gotta see her."

He stood and spun around so fast, Tommy hardly had time to react. Joel was halfway down the hallway through the building, kicking in all the doors before Tommy caught up, shouting at him to stop, begging him to slow down.

Then Nick rounded the corner, spotting Joel and Tommy.

"Stop!" Nick said firmly, but Joel just shoved him out of the way and barreled forward. He spotted the exam room that had a sliver of light on underneath the door and he swung it open.

His eyes scanned you up and down, assessing you for obvious injury before looking you in the eye. You appeared fine. You looked just like yourself, like nothing had happened. He didn't even see a mark on your head from the fall.

Joel felt Nick and Tommy rush up behind him and pause, no doubt studying the two of you to see how you would react. Your eyes finally left him to look questioningly over his shoulder and Joel whispered your name.

You angrily brought your gaze back to him and furrowed your brow. "What?" you snapped.

Joel swallowed again but remained perfectly still, refusing to believe you couldn't remember him.

"You remember Joel. Right, sugar?" Tommy asked gently.

Joel knew the answer before you even shook your head. He could see it in your eyes now. They were cold and closed off and scared. You never, ever looked at him like that. Not even after he told you about the hospital.

"Is it permanent?" Joel asked Nick. When the doctor began to give what he considered a bullshit answer, the anger simmering in his veins was lit on fire. He hauled Nick off the ground and yelled something in his face but for the life of him he couldn't remember what. He was seeing red and nothing else was getting through.

That is, until Tommy shouted, let 'em go, you're scarin' her! Then he let Nick go and twisted around towards you. His brows pitched up with concern when he saw you curled up next to the bed, rocking back and forth. Without even thinking, he took a step forward to help you, but you quickly jutted a hand out.

"Don't come near me."

He froze on the spot, speechless. His heart shattered in his chest at the fear in your eye, fear he put there. He couldn't go back to a life without you, he needed you.

"I'm sorry, baby."

And you flinched. You flinched at the term of endearment and the crack in his chest grew so wide, he was afraid he would fall in.

Tommy's voice broke the tension in the room. "Maybe we should give you two a minute."

Instantly, you were panic stricken. Your eyes widened and you scrambled to pull yourself off the floor. Instead of looking to him for comfort, you were looking at Tommy. Begging his brother not to leave him alone with you.

Joel stepped back and sagged against the wall, his eyes fixed on the ground as he tried his best to come to terms with what was happening. All he wanted to do was pull you into his arms and take you home and it was fucking killing him.

To Tommy's credit, he tried to explain who Joel was, that he wouldn't ever harm you, not in a million years, but your chest heaved and your hands shook with fear anyway.

"Look what he just did! How can you say that?"

"Because he loves you!"

The room grew still while you panted for air and tried to process the information Tommy just gave you.

"Is that true?"

He assumed you must have been talking to him so he nodded, still unwilling to look up.

You began to apologize but the pieces of his heart were drifting further and further apart. He was losing you and he had no idea what to do.

When Nick encouraged Tommy's idea to take you home to your familiar surroundings, Joel finally looked up with a little bit of hope.

"What else can we do?" he asked Nick, knowing full well he sounded too eager and hopeful. Nick began to suggest finding objects or keepsakes with sentimental value that could trigger your memory to return, an idea that gave him a spark of optimism, but when he looked back at you, you immediately looked away.

"Can I talk to you?" you asked Tommy. The two brothers stared at one another, communicating silently. Joel knew what you were going to say, Tommy knew what you were going to say: you didn't want to go home with him. And to make matters somehow worse, you were looking to his own damn brother for comfort and safety.

Safety from him.

The thought had his blood boiling and his teeth grinding, but he knew he had to control his temper or else he would make things infinitely worse.

"I'll be outside," he said gruffly, then stormed down the hall towards the lobby.

He took advantage of the few precious minutes he had to collect his fucking thoughts and think. He couldn't let his anger get the best of him. He needed to get that under control if this was going to work. And he needed to be patient. You were meant to be and he would just have to make sure you realized that again.

He took a deep, steadying breath and closed his eyes.

He could do this. He would do whatever it took for however long it took.

Anythin' that's broken, I can fix it.

This is so beautiful and bittersweet!

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

life and loss | joel miller

pairing: dave york x f!reader / joel miller x f!reader word count: 1k content warnings: 18+ blog; death, grief/loss, major character death (no description of said death), AU and crossover universes, kind of fluffy, navigating loss, reader is non descriptive/blank slate. notes: this randomly came to me yesterday on my walk. It was meant to be just a moodboard and a small blurb to go along with it… and then this happened. Oops! Tried to pack a lot into a small thing so hopefully it makes sense.

Momentos of him, your late husband, have remained tucked away for the last year following his unexpected death. As you settle into your new widowed life and new home over a thousand miles away from the life you created with Dave, all the beautiful memories reside in cardboard boxes out of sight. 

Word travels quickly through the small neighborhood about your arrival and marital status— or lack thereof. Welcoming introductions turn into unannounced check-ins and flowers. Uncomfortable small talk on your front porch is sprinkled throughout the following weeks, a hand on your shoulder accentuates their let us know if you need anything. Sympathetic casseroles finally dwindle allowing you to finally ease into this new season of your life. 

The hammock left by the previous owners becomes your sanctuary most evenings. Searching for the brightest star in the night’s sky, then asking Dave how he’s doing before reading aloud to him the words from your latest book. 

It's days later when you’ve read the final word that a small voice from over the fence manifests as a quirky teenage girl sitting at a table you’ve set up on your back patio. She has a million and one questions about the book and is filled with theories about what happens beyond its ending. The side gate is never regularly latched closed now, eagerly awaiting Ellie’s return. She navigates most of your late night conversations that follow, including personal stories and the history of her life. My grump of an old man is in construction. He’s single by the way— not by choice, but life happens. 

His voice is calloused the first time he makes his presence known to you. Goddamn it, Ellie! I told you to leave her alone! They exchange brittle words back and forth through the shared barrier, before you insist he join the two of you. The crunch of his boots on the ground stall when he towers over where you’re still seated. His hand engulfing yours, warm and gentle as he tries to determine where his gaze should fall— you, the ground, the smirking teenager sitting across from you. Joel. Joel Miller. Uh, Ellie n’ I live next door. Not sure how long she’s been botherin’ you, but I’ll be sure it doesn’t happen again.

It’s weeks later when you run into Joel at the mailboxes. The clanking of keys and squeaky hinges fill the space between you before you’re both retreating back to your respective pathways. Your hands fidget and twist the bills and letters from your parents when you bravely initiate a conversation before he’s able to reach his front door. She’s the first person since moving here who wanted to talk to me about something other than the death of my husband. I don’t think I’ve laughed as much as I have with her in a long time. She’s welcome over here anytime. 

He reeks of nervousness as he stands on your doorstep the following evening. The ambered hue of his eyes absorb the warmth from the front porch light, adding a brightness to them that they seem to be commonly lacking. His words waver a bit as he begins to speak, starting and stopping, scrubbing his hand down his face before he attempts to start again. You offer him nothing but patience, sensing the mournful energy radiating off him— similar to the one you’ve been carrying. My wife and older daughter— they were both in an accident on their way to Sarah’s soccer game. I was pickin’ up Ellie from her counseling group for adopted kids. We were headin’ to the soccer field when I got the call. Some days are harder than others. And everyone wants to help, however that may be— lots of food as I’m sure you know. It doesn’t ever really get easier, but you learn to live with grief. Anyways, if you ever need anything or just want to talk— you know where I live.  

He accepts your impulsive invitation to join you for dinner, offering him the open seat across from you in the same spot as your timid first meeting. The crickets orchestrate the evening ambience as you share stories you’d tucked away, too painful to revisit until now. You find you laugh just as much, if not more, with Joel. Even among the tears shed, the conversation is filled with a hope and optimism that you longed for. 

You still feel his wholesome embrace long after you’ve called it a night to seek out much needed sleep. But much like the nights that ensued after Dave’s death, loneliness and the weight of your grief rear its head. 

The black ink glides over the surface of the paper. Line after line formulated a year’s worth of unsaid words that had been bottled up and blockaded by the rigid walls you’d built around them. Joel was right about the therapeutic effect of getting rid of the burdensome thoughts that come with loss, finding it’s hard to stop now that you’ve started. 

You convey the love that you still carry for Dave, something you’ll never willfully ignore or regret. It feels wrong but you touch on the hatred you feel towards his death; you hate him for leaving you, hate that you miss him, hate that some nights you forget the small details that you cherished about him. You tell him about Joel and the kindness he’s afforded you in a short time of knowing him and that there’s life beyond losing the love of your life. To look for the light even when shrouded by darkness. 

Pictures and trinkets find their way out of the cardboard confines Joel helped pull out from the guest room closet. The bare walls now filled with familiar faces and shelves adorn with colorful memories that you tried so hard to keep hidden. 

Joel and Ellie being a constant presence in your life allows you to see that life can surprise you when you least expect it and there’s room for new love. 

Every single one of these 🫠🫠🫠

I just… I have no words! AMAZING!

Little Dove - A Series

(Joel Miller x female!reader)

18+

Series Summary: After sending both your daughters off to college, you and Joel find yourself to be empty nesters in your early 40’s. However, all that alone time has it’s perks, most of which are kinky.

TW: reach each chapters for specific warnings. 18+

A/N: The love I received from the first story has sent my brain into high gear. I have zero timeline for these stories and they may not come out in the order listed below. The story summaries could change as I write. 🙏🏻 please let me know which you’re most excited for or if you want to be tagged 🙏🏻

🤍🕊️🤍 •• 🤍🕊️🤍 •• 🤍🕊️🤍 •• 🤍🕊️🤍

You’re Mine, Little Dove

A walk at night starts with ropes, blindfolds, and ends with the best orgasms of your life, and an even better twist at the end.

Kink: Predator/Prey

Stay Still, Little Dove

Joel reminds you that his wishes are your commands during an interesting bet between you two.

Kink: Vibrator Torture, Pleasure Dom

Taste Her, Little Dove

Joel watches as you explore a new side of yourself.

You’re a Brat, Little Dove

At your 25-year high school reunion, an old classmates is enamoured with your partner; you can’t say that you blame her, but it sparks enough jealousy for you to decide to get Joel’s attention.

Kink: Brat Tamer, Spanking, Dom/Sub

Do Your Worst, Little Dove

Joel gets a taste of his own medicine.

Kink: Role reversal, domme/sub

You're Perfect, Little Dove

Insecurities from the past send you spiralling in a way that only Joel can fix.

Kink: Praise, Pleasure Dom

Touch Yourself, Little Dove

Joel discovers how much he likes to watch.

Kink: Voyeurism

Additional Materials

Thank You @survivingandenduring for this GORGEOUS edit of Joel and his Little Dove.

The way I cackled at this 🤣😂

requested by @chronically-ghosted ♥ | insp

✨Sweet reminder! ✨

you are a beautiful soul and you have an amazing talent. your words give us joy and color the world. I hope this message will make you smile and you will remember how many people are waiting for every word from you because they love you.

Have a great week, sweetie! ❤️

What a beautiful message to start my week! This definitely did make me smile! ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you! 🥲