Joel Miller Fanfic - Tumblr Posts

This was such a sweet read 🥰🥰🥰

finding light in darkness • pregnancy • post-outbreak • love and devotion • second chances • anxiety • heartwarming fluff • safe haven • soft!Joel • family • building a future together

1 keep you warm 2 never felt so loved 3 cravings 4 two hearts, one bond

♡ Knitting 101 with Joel Miller

Joel masterlist • main masterlist • AO3

Thank you all so much for following the journey of Joel and his pregnant partner! It's very special to me and I hope it can bring you some comfort, too. Love you guys! 🤍

I love this 😍😍😍

Fixed Up

Pairing: Joel Miller x Jackson!Reader

Summary: Joel Miller may be oblivious to his place as Jackson's most desirable bachelor, but he's not oblivious to you.

Rating: Explicit 18+ (By proceeding to read beyond this warning, you are agreeing that you are 18 years or older)

Content: Everything is great in Jackson and everyone is happy, Explicit Smut (Unprotected Sex, Possessive, Praise kink, Raging size kink as is tradition), it’s mutual but they’re both awkward

Word Count: 3.4K

Masterlist

“So the, um, the…faucet.”

Your contractor nods, mouth pressing into a firm line before he rotates his upper body in the direction of your upstairs bathroom sink. “The faucet?”

“Yep. It’s…” Your thoughts wander, getting tangled up in the streaks of gray in his dark brown curls. In how very nice it would feel to run your fingers through them. “So nice.”

He glances back at you, forehead scrunching in confusion. “It’s nice? I thought you said it was broken.”

Oh, God. Heat rises to your cheeks before you stumble out a quick explanation. “It is! Broken. It’s broken. There’s no, uh, hot water.”

“Oh.” He takes a step toward the object in question, his broad back and shoulders beneath his thick long-sleeve flannel impossible not to notice. His right hand reaches out and turns the handle, waiting a few seconds before running his fingers under the stream of water. “Yeah, that’s pretty cold. Not good in the winter time. I’ll have to take a look.”

He turns the water back off, drying his hand on his jeans. Wide palm and strong fingers carelessly dragging up and down the denim over his thigh as if he has no idea how many times you’ve pictured that same thigh wedged between your own.

Which he doesn’t. Of course, he doesn’t. Much to the relief and to the dismay of almost every woman in this town.

Ever since he arrived in Jackson a few months ago, Joel Miller has occupied the top spot on an admittedly short list of eligible bachelors. A shallow dating pool one of many drawbacks of a post-apocalyptic world although you have no doubt he would have done just fine regardless. 

The man is ridiculously competent and unbelievably gorgeous. Older, as well as the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, but what really clenches it for you (pun intended) is that he seems to have no fucking clue that he is the reason why everyone suddenly seems so into home improvement.

There’s practically been a feeding frenzy, Joel’s to-do list a mile long from the moment Tommy mentioned at the town meeting that Joel was a contractor and open to work. Yet the elder Miller brother has greeted every flirtatious look and open invitation thrown his way with crossed arms and a seeming inability to focus on anything that isn’t a two-by-four. Case in point…

“Mind if I take a look real quick at your downstairs?” 

You blink at him, suddenly aware that he’s been staring at you while you were busy contemplating the size of his hands. “My downstairs?”

His brow furrows again. “For the water heater?”

“Oh, of course, yeah. Water heater. Yep.” What if you just threw yourself out the window? “I can show you where—”

“S’alright. I remember from last time.” He gives you a friendly nod before moving to step past you, and, God, the body heat rolling off this man. The smell. Sawdust and mint and… Have you ever wanted someone so badly in your life?

“I’ll just—” you start to say and Joel draws up level to you to listen, peering down at you with those deep set brown eyes, and here is actually the thing that makes you feel so fucking weak when it comes to Joel Miller. 

Those eyes. The sadness in them when he thinks no one is looking. The pride in them when he looks at Ellie. The joy in them when Tommy says something to make him laugh. 

For a man that says so little… simply seeing the way he is with the people he cares about has told you a lot.

“I’ll just be down in the kitchen,” you finish mumbling, cheeks burning again when your eyes drop to his mouth before you make a hasty retreat. “Take, um— Feel free to take your time.”

*****

Damn, he’s rusty at this. 

Joel continues to glare at his open toolbox on the bathroom floor just as he has for the last five minutes, his frustration having nothing to do with its contents or with the job itself. 

This he knows. Twenty years since he last worked full time as a contractor and it’s all come back like riding a bike. 

But figuring out if a woman is interested in him? That is still leaving him feeling completely unequipped.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to shake off the anxious feeling in his stomach before he gets down on the floor and ducks beneath the bathroom sink. Attempting to distract himself with fixing something rather than thinking through the fuck ups in his past. 

Sarah’s mom. Tess.

In both cases, they had practically had to shout at him before he realized they weren’t just being nice. They’d spelled it out for him and yet he’d still fucked up. 

The first he’d given too much of his heart to. The second not enough. Did he really need to go for three?

As if in answer to his question, your soft voice reaches his ears, and he sits up without thinking, smacking his head under the sink. Wincing he peers out into the bathroom, any embarrassment he feels fading with the dull throb when he realizes you aren’t in the room. 

“What the—” He stops, hearing you talking again and spending a good few seconds looking around before he notices the floor vent. 

Must be over the kitchen, he thinks, going back to his task and doing everything in his power not to listen to— “He’s up there working. Just offer him a cup of tea for God’s sake. You can do this.” 

Joel pauses, tool in hand. Is she talking to herself? About me?

“Joel?” Your voice carries again, this time shouted up from the stairs. “Would you like some tea?”

“Alright,” he yells back, reminding himself that you’re only being polite before he quickly adds, “Thank you.”

He’s been trying to remember his manners again, wanting to set a good example for Ellie, so that the town doesn’t think they’re just a couple of feral barn cats. Although some of the thoughts that run through his mind whenever you’re around don’t exactly border on respectful. 

You just have such a sweet way about you. Shy smile, pretty laugh, kind heart. Always helping people out around town and…always looking like something he wouldn’t mind sinking his teeth into. An urge that he frankly hasn’t felt in a while since he’d been so focused on just surviving, but now… his ability to wield a hammer isn’t the only thing that’s come back.

Through the vent he hears the tea kettle go off, a sharp whistle that shocks him out of the images in his mind and prompts him to reach down and adjust his jeans before he gets back to work. 

“Okay, good,” he hears you say, “so now you just take him the tea and try not to stare at his arms.”

His arms? Joel frowns, looking at the sleeves. Did he have something on his shirt? He had showered after working in other houses all day and put on a clean button-up just before coming over but maybe he’d missed something. He’d even thought about shaving before he had contemplated how good you’d look with whisker burn on your neck…on your inner thighs.

“You can do this,” you’re saying, as if you’re giving him the pep talk. “You can—Damn it, why does he have to be so hot?”

The wrench drops out of Joel’s hand as he fumbles, a loud smack echoing into the room that he conceals with a few more random smacks to the pipes.

“Joel?” Your voice comes up the stairs again a moment later. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just…getting this faucet taken care of.” He waits, and he can feel you waiting too at the bottom of the stairs. “How’s that tea coming along?”

“Good, good.”

Hot. Had you called him hot? Maybe you’d said the tea was hot and he’d misheard. Although, speaking of hot water, Joel looks back at the pipes under the sink and immediately notices what the problem is. He grins, finally feeling something other than nerves pooling in his gut. 

By the time you appear in the doorway with two mugs of tea, he’s already packing up.

“You’re done?” He’s pretty sure now that there’s disappointment in your voice, in the slight scrunch between your brows. “That was so fast.”

“Yeah, well…” He takes a mug from your hand. “Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m going to be able to fix it just now. Gotta come back to it.”

“Oh?” You look so flustered, as if you’re not sure if you’ve been caught. “I—Really?”

“Mmhm.” He steps closer, still testing. “That little knob under there flips the hot water on. Looks like it’s been tampered with.”

You bite your bottom lip. “Weird.”

Yeah, he thinks, already knowing he’s about to try again even though he still worries he shouldn’t. Weird.

“I’m really sorry,” you mutter, looking away from him only to be confronted with the image of the two of you standing close in the bathroom mirror. Something he’s also definitely noticed himself. “I made you come all the way over here for something so silly. And I know you have a lot to do and—”

“Can I make you dinner?”

Your mouth falls open. And Christ, he likes that mouth. “You want to make me dinner?”

Joel nods, taking a calm sip from his slightly scalding tea as he prays that maybe this time he won’t fuck it up. “As an apology. For taking so long.”

*****

Joel Miller is cooking at your stove, towering over it as he deftly prepares some chicken and veggies. Nothing super complicated since you hadn’t really been expecting a dinner guest, but if he’s the one cooking it, it could be inedible and you probably wouldn’t complain.

He’s still not saying much, seeming to prefer listening to you talk, but you don’t mind. There’s something reassuring about his presence, like as long as he’s here it’ll all be okay. As long as he doesn’t figure out you’re the one who tampered with your sink.

The truth is you’d run out of actually broken things for him to fix a few weeks ago, and after listening to the women in the food hall talk this morning about how excited they were for their appointments with him, you’d felt a snap of unwarranted jealousy. 

Before you knew what you were doing, you were marching up to him and babbling about a hot water emergency.

Has he cooked for them, too? You feel like someone would have blabbed if they’d had Joel Miller in their kitchen, but what if you’re nothing special… 

“You alright?”

You look up to see Joel assessing you from where he’s leaning against the counter, the mug of now cold tea you’d brought him still nearby. Maybe you’re just making a fool of yourself…

“Fine,” you say quietly, sitting up straighter as he plates up the finished dishes and carries them over. “Sorry, was thinking.”

“About what?” He drops into the chair beside you and he certainly looks interested in what you have to say. “Anything I can help with?”

“No,” you say with a laugh. “You’ve already done plenty.” The edge of self-imposed hurt in your voice makes it come out sounding wrong and you scramble, “I mean, you fixed all this stuff in my house and now you’ve made me dinner. You’re so sweet to everyone.”

He laughs this time. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You fix stuff for everyone in town.”

He frowns, looking genuinely confused. “That’s my job.”

“Yeah, but you go out of your way for people. All I had to say was that I didn’t have hot water in my sink and you fit me in to—”

“I don’t do that for everybody.”

There’s a beat of silence as he continues to look at you, and you take a bite of steamed green beans just so you have something to do as your heart skips. Of course, they’re good. Of course, he didn’t make you something inedible. So damn competent. 

Because he’s had to be…

The thought intrudes without warning, reminding you that neither of you have found your way here without getting lost along the way. That both of you have had to do what you had to do to survive. 

It’s easy to forget sometimes. Everything feels so domestic in Jackson. As if the world isn’t still burning beyond the gates. As if you hadn’t spent years living on instinct. As if almost everything you gave didn’t end up eventually costing you.

I don’t do that for everybody. Joel Miller just told you that you were in fact special, and all you can think is if anyone has ever told him the same.

“Thank you,” you tell him, not meaning it lightly as you take another bite of food. “I appreciate you taking care of things—of me. Thank you for taking care of me.”

He starts to say something, his serious expression creasing the corners of his eyes. Those damn eyes. They really do tell you everything you need to know.

You get up from your chair before you can stop yourself, closing the gap before leaning down and putting your mouth on his. He’s so surprised that it takes him a full agonizing second before he drops his fork and grabs for you instead. 

Joel starts kissing you back as he hauls you into his lap, a pleased grunt escaping him as he fits you tight against him. One of his hands cupping your jaw, the other spanning your back to keep you in place as he takes the kiss deeper. 

There’s heat to it. Hunger and need and a thrill of desperation that doesn’t make you think twice about letting him strip off your shirt, your fingers fighting with the buttons on his own while his mouth closes over your breast through your bra and you whine his name.

“Fuck.” It’s the first word he’s said since you both started, and for some reason it makes you giggle, your heart melting when you see the answering flash of a dimple on his face. But then he’s standing up, keeping your legs wrapped around his waist for as long as it takes to lay you out on your kitchen table. 

“Fuck,” he says again, remembering the plates when your back hits the edge of one and makes it clatter against the surface. “Should we go up—”

You shove the plates off the table with the sweep of your arm, then go straight for the center clasp of your bra in case that hadn’t been clear enough. 

His eyes go dark as the fabric falls away, gaze raking your skin before he braces himself above you and picks up where he left off. 

“Been thinking about these,” he says, before he takes one of your nipples in his mouth, using his tongue and his teeth until it’s a tight, overly sensitive bud. Satisfied only when he has you whimpering and squirming beneath him, he places an almost chaste kiss on it before he sets out to make the other one match it. “Fuck, been thinking about you so much.”

“Been…” You sigh, liking the way his whispers scratch against your skin as he works his way back up to your mouth. “Been…thinking…about you too.”

He kisses you again, lingering over it while you push his shirt from his shoulders. Your fingers kneading into his muscles, your palms grazing over his warm skin as you let your hands wander. 

He groans, even that touch enough to make him pick up the pace again. He moves down your body, sucking a mark into the soft skin of your stomach, another high on your hip when he starts to tug your jeans down. You arch up to help him, feeling yourself get wet at just the way he looks at you when you’re bare. 

“Christ.” His hands skim up and down your body, possessively squeezing your breasts, your hips, your thighs. “So fucking pretty.”

His tongue presses against his bottom lip as he tugs you to the edge of the table, spreading your legs after he drops back down into his kitchen chair and pulls you closer. Your hands go to his hair and you tangle your fingers in the strands just like you pictured earlier, moaning when he sucks another mark into your inner thigh. God, he’s going to ruin me.

“Staking your claim?” you tease, the sudden intensity of your feelings making you desperate for some form of relief. 

He smirks, looking up at you from his place between your legs before simply stating, “I don’t share.”

“Me either,” you reassure him, and his smile reaches his eyes before he nods. “Good.”

Then his mouth is on your pussy and you can’t think of anything else, his thick fingers spreading you so he can be thorough. His tongue working you until he has to put one hand on your abdomen to keep you still. 

He likes when you say his name, when you moan, when you pull a little too hard on his hair, telling you with a low groan that you can feel. He rewards you by slipping a thick finger inside as he sucks on your clit, by adding a second finger when you come and using it to work you up all over again.

“Need to open you up a little more, sweetheart,” he tells you when he slowly eases in a third as he stands behind you. “That’s it.”

You can’t even remember when he turned you on to your stomach, positioned you so you’re bent over the kitchen table. All you know at this point is that if he doesn’t fuck you soon you’ll go out of what’s left of your mind. 

“Joel,” you buck your hips back into him, and he lightly smacks your ass in warning. A poor one since that only seems to make you wetter and you’re already dripping down your thighs. 

You’re about to make another demand when you feel the wide, smooth head of him at your entrance, and you’re abruptly glad he had the restraint to work you up to this even if you didn’t. You raise up onto your elbows, gasping when you feel the stretch, and he places a reassuring hand on your back to lower you back down. 

“You’re alright. I’ve got you,” he mutters. “Just breathe, sweetheart. Should see how pretty you look on my cock.”

Jesus.

You shift, trying to accommodate him. It doesn’t hurt. He made sure of that, but it’s a lot. So much. And yet, you only want him deeper.

“That’s it,” he says again, stopping once he’s finally all the way inside and bending over you to kiss the nape of your neck. He scrapes his teeth there when you whine again. “Good girl.”

Still covering your body with his, he pulls out slightly, then pushes back in, waiting to see how you respond before he does it again. And again. And again. 

You’re moaning so loud that the neighbors can probably hear you by the time he’s thrusting hard and fast, his left hand on your back again and his right between your legs. Joel ruthlessly pushing you towards another climax because he wants to feel you come on it. 

You hope they can hear you. And him. You hope the whole goddamn town knows by tomorrow morning that Joel Miller is yours.

“Fuck,” Joel mutters again as you start to come, burying himself deep to feel every wave of it before he pulls out. His spend hits your back and ass a few seconds later, his thumbs smearing it into your skin as he lets out a satisfied hum. 

Apparently you’re his, too. 

“I don’t think I can move,” you mutter, and you hear him chuckle. A heartachingly gorgeous sound that you only have a few seconds to appreciate before he’s scooping you up and cracking your heart completely in two with the way he’s smiling down at you as he takes you upstairs.

“Joel,” you say, as you pass the bathroom sink on the way to the tub, “about the faucet…”

He presses a kiss to the tip of your nose, shushing you as he sets you down and reaches for the tap. “I already know.”

L!!! This was so good! 😍

The ending had me cracking up 🤣

Biology

“Uncle”!Joel Miller x afab!reader | w/c: 5.4k

Summary: Joel hurt his back at work, so you've been helping him around the house until he heals.

Content/Warnings: able-bodied, female sex anatomy, and inherently fem!reader. No description of reader, everything is neutral (ex. “your bottoms,” “the curve of you” — nothing is specific in the way “you” are described). Age gap (reader early 20s, Joel in 50s). EXPLICIT MATERIAL PRESENT. HEED THE WARNINGS. WEIRD boundaries are crossed…you're not blood-related to Joel, but you were raised like you were. You call him “uncle.” Pet names (baby, darlin’, sweetheart, etc.). Pussy pronouns (she). Innocent touches until it isn't. Sexual tension galore. Slight dub-con. Icky Joel. Icky reader. Pussy grinding. Dirty talk. Slight degradation (“bitch” is used only once). Multiple orgasms. P in V unprotected. Reader is on top. Lots of teasing about the nature of yours and Joel’s relationship. If there’s anything that should be up here but I missed or I made any improper tags, please let me know!

A/N: Hi, my loves! This is slightly different than what you’re used to coming from me… All I can say is, you’ve read the warnings! Don’t bite if it is not your flavor! But for those who do like, I really hope you enjoy! And to my love @strang3lov3, thank you for prompting this and encouraging this side of my brain to finally stop hiding in the shadows. And thank you for your eyes on this and the mood board as well. I love you.🩶

masterlist | notifs blog

“Hey, hon, when you headin’ over to uncle Joel’s?”

You glance at the timer on the oven. “In about ten minutes after these cookies cool. Need something from me?”

“Can ya grab my toolbox before ya leave? Forgot it there the other day,” he replies. “Figured you could get it since you’re already goin’ there today.”

“Sure thing. It’s not the heavy one, is it? Because I don’t know if that old man’s back is ready for a heavy lift like that yet.” The timer on the oven beeps. You slide on your oven mitts to pull the tray out. “Made two batches by the way. How many you want? I’m taking some to Uncle’s, too.” 

About a week ago, Joel had a contracting accident. Some newbie wasn’t watching the older man’s back as Joel climbed up a wobbly ladder, and the next moment, Joel’s footing slipped. He landed right on his lower back, a piece of wood perched on the ground, sitting at just the right spot on the floor to render him immobile. Tommy, Joel’s younger brother, and your father, his best friend since before you were born, are the only two Joel trusts to get the job done perfectly, so Joel put them two in charge until he heals. 

Bed rest, the doctor had ordered Joel, for at least three weeks. It’s been one so far, but with you offering to be his nurse — one that forces him to stay in bed unless he needs to eat or use the restroom — he thinks he just might be back to work by next week. If you’ll let him, that is. 

“No, it’s the small one, hon, you got it,” your father reassures you. He lovingly slaps his growing belly as the trays hit the kitchen counter. “Y’know, darlin’, ever since you moved back, I’ve been gainin’ some weight. Can’t imagine what you’re doin’ t’ Joel over there.”

Your lip pulls up in a smirk. “Joel is in good hands, y’know. And technically, I don’t have to leave you any,” you say with a challenging brow, pulling the cookie trays out of his reach. 

“No, no, I’m not sayin’ that,” your father’s eyebrows raise in worry. His daily cookie is very important to him. “You can leave me like… five… or six.” 

“I’m just gonna leave you a whole batch. The six are gonna be gone before I even leave the house,” you tell your father as his hand subconsciously reaches for the cookie tray. 

He scoffs, “Ya have no faith in me.”

“So what’s in your hand already?”

“Whatever,” he mumbles, walking away with a mouthful of warm cookie dough and melted milk chocolate chips. 

“Uh huh,” you yell back. “Gonna be leaving in just a sec. I’ll see you later.”

It takes less than ten minutes to get to your uncle’s house. You unlock the door using the spare key he gave you as a teenager, and immediately, nurse mode is activated. 

“Uncle Joel!” You yell, exasperated. He turns around from his place in the kitchen, painfully slow. He’s going to make his back worse. “What do you think you’re doing?” You place the fresh cookies on his dining table along with your keys. You cross your arms angrily for good measure. 

“My coffee’s cold. I was warmin’ it up,” he huffs, annoyed.

“Bed, please.” Your hands find his waist, and you guide him back to his room. “You know I’m here around this time. You didn’t wanna call me first to see where I was?”

You ease him in a sitting position at the edge of his bed. He grunts as his ass meets the mattress. He grumbles his response. “Need to start gettin’ back to everythin’ independently, y’know that, don’tcha?”

“Is your memory going with your back, too, unc?” 

“‘Scuse me?” He looks at you incredulously. 

“Three weeks were the doctor’s orders. Not one,” you tell him, putting your foot down. 

He lays himself down with another wince at the motion, no acknowledgement to your words. God, he’s so stubborn. 

“I’ll go make you a fresh cup,” you tell him, feeling sympathetic for the man. His work is his life, and it’s not going to get any easier with age. 

Making your way back to his kitchen, you wash out the coffee pitcher, replace the grounds and the filter, and do some light cleaning as you wait for the bitter, brown liquid to brew. 

It’s only been five minutes since you returned to the kitchen, and the painful moans and groans from his bedroom have only gotten louder. You search around the place and find the heat pack you bought a few days ago and pop it in the microwave. You grab some pain meds, fill up a glass of water, and just in time, the microwave sings to you, telling you your contents are ready. 

Ignoring the coffee for a moment, you make your way back to Joel’s bedroom. His eyes are closed, but his entire body is tensed up in pain. Poor guy. You knock at his door to catch his attention before entering. “Unc?”

One eye peels open. “Yes, nurse?”

“Funny.” A sarcastic laugh leaves your throat. “Come take these.”

He makes no move to get up. 

You set the painkillers and the water on his bedside table, the heat pack wedged underneath your armpit. You start to reach for Joel to help him up, but he stops you. “I got it,” he grunts. You let him have this win. 

You hand him the glass of water first, then the pills. He swallows the painkillers in one big gulp, swallowing down the rest of the water in another. He eyes the heat pack in your arm. 

“Do you want-”

“Yes,” he says immediately, reaching for the soft warmth. 

“Lay down first, I’ll put it underneath you.”

Without another word, he positions himself. His body jerks when your soft hand slips underneath his back, pushing him to lift a little while you slide the heat underneath. “This okay?”

“Mhm,” he forces out, eyes clamped shut. It’s not okay, you think. 

“How would you feel on your stomach?” you suggest. 

“Dunno. Never tried.”

“Well, then.” You set the heat pack down, and it’s your turn to crawl, uninvited, into his bed. You walk on your knees towards the opposite, unoccupied side, adjusting the pillows in a way you think might be the most comfortable. This isn’t your first rodeo dealing with an old man’s back; you’ve got your dad. This is, however, your first rodeo dealing with an old man more stubborn than a screaming goat not getting his way. “Come on.”

“No.” 

“What do you mean no?” 

“That ain’t gonna be comfortable.”

“How do you know?”

“I jus’ do.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose and take a deep breath. “I swear to God. I will flip your ass over myself if I have to.”

“You’re bossy,” he spits.

“So you’ve said.” 

Not giving him a chance to prepare, you hook your one hand at his side and your other on his hip, and you pull him towards you. It doesn’t fully flip him over, but it does the trick in getting him to finish the rest of the action himself — albeit, with a very strained yelp from the back of his throat. 

He groans for a few minutes more as you adjust some flat pillows underneath his belly and then prop the lukewarm heating back right at the base of his spine. You’ll probably have to heat it up in ten minutes again, but it’ll do for now. You stay in your spot for a minute, and already his pained noises begin to subside. 

“Better?” You know it is. You just want him to admit it. 

And when a single huff with zero protests from the grumpy man reverberates around the room, you know you’ve won this round. 

“I’ll go get your coffee now,” you hum. 

A soft rasp of your name has you spinning back around as you reach the room’s threshold. 

“Hm?”

“Thanks,” he tells you. 

“It’s what I’m here for, unc.”

You put his fresh cup of coffee in a thermos this time. You can’t imagine how often he’ll get up being in this position, but at least the freshness will be there with every sip he does end up taking. 

“How’s it going?” You ask him as you set his coffee nearby. You feel the heat pack on his spine, and it’s as you called it to be by now: room temperature. “Want me to reheat it?” 

“‘M okay,” he replies, voice groggy. He must’ve fallen asleep. 

“Okay.” You stand there for a moment. You can tell the heat helped, but his body isn’t entirely relaxed. He’s still tense, as if a nerve or something is being pinched. 

You recall your memory from a while ago before you moved back with your dad. Your brother, who is a mixed martial arts athlete, had a sparring session that hurt his back, nearly in the same area as Joel. He had you running his massage gun over his muscles nearly every night for a month straight. “It needs to uncoil somehow,” he told you. An idea crosses your mind then. 

You saunter to Joel’s en suite bathroom in search of some type of lubricant. Sitting loud and proud on the center of the bathroom counter is a little bottle of Equate’s Personal Liquid Lubricant. Your brain falters for a second, the bottle of lube throwing you off your original plan. That is absolutely not the kind of lubricant you were looking for. Shaking away the image from your mind, you bend down to look in the cabinets underneath. Bingo, a bottle of Aveeno body lotion. This should do. 

You invite yourself onto his bed for the second time today. “Let me give you a massage.”

“What?” His head turns to you now, utterly confused. He definitely heard you wrong, he thinks. 

“Let me give you a massage,” you repeat. “It’ll help.”

A massage actually does sound nice right now. But you’ve been nothing but bossy this last week while Joel lays here helplessly. He’s bored. And he’s had enough. “It ain’t gonna help.”

“How do you know?”

“I jus’ do.”

Jesus. Haven’t you had this conversation before? You mentally slap your forehead. Again, leaving him no other options, you reach for his flannel atop his shoulders and begin to pull them down. 

“Hey, hey, wait, now what in the hell-” He tries to stifle back a laugh as he wriggles in your hold, trying to playfully push you off without hurting himself more in the process. 

You quickly release his clothes, hands up in surrender where he can see them. You’re just realizing now just how forward your action must’ve been. “How am I gonna massage you-” 

The embarrassment written all over your face has Joel tearing up as he tries to hold his wheezing laugh in. With his eyebrow quirked at you, he responds, “If you wanted me naked, kiddo-”

“Jesus, ew! Really?” An unbearable heat spreads across your cheeks. Your eyes are downcast, looking everywhere else but him. “It- it’ll be better if I can directly touch-”

Only then do you feel the bed shaking with his laughter. He’s fucking with you. And here you were, about to offer something that would relieve a whole lot of pain. “Oh, fuck you,” you scoff, pulling yourself up and making your way off of his bed. 

“No, okay, wait,” he laughs, trying to catch his breath. “Jus’ messin’ with you, who am I to deny a massage?” He raises his eyebrows once, twice. Still messing with you, seeing how far his taunting with you can go. 

“You’re disgusting,” you deadpan. 

“‘M not the one tryin’ t’ massage her uncle,” Joel says as he attempts to shrug his shoulders at you.

“I’m gonna leave now.” One foot makes it to the ground before Joel speaks again. 

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, ya can’t take a joke? I’m only messin’ around. Come back. Gonna leave me hangin’? In pain? C’mon, nurse.” His tone falls softer, sweeter. You can hear the shit-eating grin in his words. And, fuck, why is it making you heat even further, in places beyond your face? In places you shouldn’t be?

“Fine,” you relent. “Stop saying weird shit then.” You still can’t look at him. Not after the way your body decided to react in the shift of energy. An abrupt shift of energy, as far as you can tell. 

He’s your dad’s best friend. Your uncle, for crying out loud. Not by blood, but still. There’s never been a feeling beyond that. Sure, you’ve had your silly little school girl crush on him during your young teenage years, but that was your hormones being your hormones. You grew out of them. Even your own father can’t deny the conventional attractiveness of his best friend. 

Plus, suggestive commentary is bound to make anyone feel hot. It’s basic biology. Your response is nothing. It doesn’t mean anything. At least, that’s what you convince yourself of when you climb back into your uncle’s— no, into Joel’s bed, trying to ignore the way your panties stick dutifully against your throbbing core.

Joel leans onto his side as you get yourself situated, unbuttoning the bottom half of his flannel, so you can flip up the bottom to reach his lower back. After the bottom half of the buttons are undone, he lays back on his front. “Here,” he calls your name. “Jus’ lift it up from the bottom.”

You scoot closer to him, standing on your knees, and you reach over to grab the hem of his flannel, pulling it up as gently as possible, exposing just enough to be able to reach the irritated areas. You frown at what you see. Inflamed skin, purples and yellows dancing all across his lower back, forcing him away from the very thing he lives for. He may have been a stubborn bitch this entire week, but that doesn’t stop the sympathy you feel for the man. 

You put some of the lotion in your hand, rubbing it between your two palms to warm it up a little. You place your hand on the side closest to you first, moving in circular motions and adjusting your pressure ever so often. “Let me know when the pressure is good.”

So far he hasn’t said much, a slight groan here, an exhale there. You feel a knot as you move lower, so you increase your pressure. You’re met with a literal moan, and you swear you have to bite back your own vocal response. “Fuck,” he sucks in a sharp breath. “Yeah, jus’ like that, ‘s perfect, darlin’.” 

“Okay,” you squeak, your thighs clenching together to attempt any kind of relief to the heat between your legs. 

After a few more passes over the area — and a few more indulgent, harder presses of your palm to pull more angelic sounds from him — you switch to the other side. Except, at this angle, you don’t really have as good an angle as you did before. Your leg swings over his ass, bracketing him in between your thighs, before you can even register the move your body just made. A soft gasp falls from your lips as you feel the new angle you’ve just given yourself. 

“Joel?” You call sweetly. Innocently.”I- I’m not hurting you or anything, am I?”

Hurting? No. Putting him through Hell? Close enough. 

Joel has done many questionable things in his lifetime. Getting involved with taken (married or otherwise) women, couples who wanted a third… Joel has lived through it all. Mainly in his younger years, but nevertheless. He has done and seen many things. But none of these things have ever included getting a fucking hard on for a girl — a woman? — he practically had a hand in raising. You call him uncle, for crying out loud. 

His physical response means nothing. It’s basic biology. The tender yet skilled touch of your warm hands directly against his even hotter skin, lighting every single nerve ending on fire, forcing the blood to course through his veins, to make its way down south— 

“Christ-” he snarls as you practically sit on him. His mouth shuts instantly as his eyes shoot open. He didn’t mean for that to come out. “Y-yeah,” he corrects. “‘M alright.” 

“Just- just let me know,” you tell him. He can hear the shake in your voice. He can tell biology is doing a number on you, too, based on your tone alone, if the heat engulfing his rear as you try your best not to make contact with it isn’t enough to go by. 

He focuses on his breathing as best he can as your hands push slightly past his jeans, getting underneath the seam of his boxers, and then immediately softening your touch as you run your fingers up his spine, awaking a chill he never knew was possible until now. You rub beyond the exposed area of his lower back, reaching his shoulder blades and entirely up to his shoulders, forcing the flannel to rise with your hands. He’s so broad and warm, and you would absolutely be drooling all over him by now if you weren’t so shocked at how tight his muscles really feel. How has this man not gotten any injuries sooner? How was he still doing all this heavy lifting? You dig the pads of your finger tips further into the thousands of tiny knots you feel, and his body jerks in actual pain this time. 

“God damn, girl,” he snaps. “What are you doin’?” 

“How the fuck do you even function?” You sound genuinely horrified. 

“What-”

“Your shoulders and neck are fucking covered in knots how do you even-” you cut yourself off with a disappointed click of your tongue. “You need to flip over.” 

Fuck. 

“Why?” He asks defensively. 

“I’m gonna break these knots. I need to start from the front.” 

“Ya ain’t gettin’ anywhere near my neck, I swear to God-”

“Quit being stubborn. What did I say earlier? I’m gonna flip you myself if you don’t-”

“Alright, fine, gimme a sec,” he bites. Joel takes a deep breath, at war with himself for how he’s going to handle his next course of action. 

Whatever happens next, there is no avoiding the fact that you will be made aware of the bulging erection between his legs. You can know about it, that’s fine, but the second you make contact, he doesn’t know if he’ll have the strength to control himself. Which is why he rips off the band aid quick. Flipping himself over with you still hovering over him, he tries his best not to touch you. Though, the second he’s comfortable, his focus is on your waist, grabbing you immediately and missing the way your eyes widen at the tenting fabric of his jeans. He pulls you higher up to sit on his lower tummy. 

You squeak out a little gasp as he adjusts you, and fuck it makes the pulsing between his legs even worse. He releases you, bringing his hands back to his sides. 

“Comfortable?” you whisper. You try so hard not to use your voice, worried that it’ll reveal just how turned on you are by this situation you’ve put yourself in. He gives you a single nod, and with that, you lean to grab more lotion. 

The angle you are at forces you to lean the front of your body onto Joel to be able to reach his shoulders. You can feel his body tense underneath you; you can hear his labored breathing as your hands further push away his flannel, working away at each knot. 

You lean forward further, giving yourself the ability to reach just below Joel’s neck. With this action, your hips shift, pressing down against Joel’s belly in a way that sends a sudden jolt of butterflies through your core. Your hands freeze in their movement, breath and fingertips stuttering as your entire face and neck heat up. You sneak a quick glance to Joel, and his eyes are still relaxed. He didn’t notice. 

It takes you a moment to start your movements back up again, but when you do, you can’t help the way you repeat exactly what you did before — allowing yourself another experimental roll of your hips against his soft abdomen. Only this time, you’re way less sly, for the whimper of pleasure you thought you could hide slips right out, right for his sharp ears to take note of. Shit. 

“Y’ alright there?” His eyes are trained on you now; he knows what you just did. Joel sports a quirked eyebrow as he waits for your response. 

“Mhm,” you rush out, ignoring his piercing gaze. 

It takes every ounce of willpower for you to run over the knots in his shoulder again without driving your hips into him, but even the push and pull of your arms is a full body movement, and you feel it. You feel the growing wetness in your core, the growing heartbeat that his bare tummy no doubt can feel now. 

Your body is splayed across him, the warmth of you leaking through your bottoms and onto his hot skin as you pathetically try to play off the fact that you aren’t grinding your wet cunt across him right now. With a rasp of your name, he takes a sharp breath in. “What are ya doin’?” He grunts, pained. Conflicted. 

This is so wrong. But it feels so good. Your arousal — how utterly desperate you are for the older man underneath you — is shone all over your face, brighter than any other feeling of disgust or wrongness you’re trying to convince yourself of. But the internal battle is still there, though, and it forces your hips to come to a full stop. It forces cries of apologies from your lips. It forces regret. 

“I- I’m sorry,” you choke back a sob. “Please, I- this is so wrong, I’m so stupid, uncle, I-” 

God damn it. Joel is too damn hard to deal with this shit now. “Oh, Jesus Christ, will you cut the fuckin’ uncle bullshit?” He finally snaps. His hands spring to life, finding their way up your thighs, tightening once they reach your hips. He forces you to move again. “Ya think I wanna hear that fuckin’ word while you fuckin’ soak me? Huh? While ya rub on me like a fuckin’ bitch in heat?”

“Shit,” you moan, the strength of his hand making the assault against your mound all the more intense. “Joel, please,” you cry, your fingers shaking as you hold onto his chest. 

Your thighs begin to tremble as he maintains a rough pace to your movements, his bed creaking with every shove of your hips against him. His grip on you is one of steel, the pads of his fingers digging into your flesh, no doubt leaving tiny bruises as a reminder of today’s actions. 

He is fucking covered in you — the slick of your desire pooling through your bottoms and into his skin, making each grind smoother. He licks his lips at this, his eyes dark as he drinks you in from above; your own eyes glossy and a sheen of sweat along your skin. “Look at ya, darlin’,” he murmurs, voice low enough to send a fresh wave of arousal pouring from your hole. “Fuckin’ soakin’ me, baby. Needed me that bad, did ya? Was tryin’ t’ tell ya earlier,” he grunts, “Y’know ya just had to ask.” A lazy smirk pulls across his lip. 

You let out a whimper at his words, your hips finally rolling alongside his own guidance, instinctively searching for more friction. “Atta girl,” he groans, “That’s it, fuck- makin’ a fuckin’ mess a’ me, darlin’.” 

You’re panting now, the rhythm and pressure mixed with the filth of his Southern drawl ignites every single nerve ending throughout your body. He watches you with a dark intensity, the brown of his eyes replaced with pure black lust, his eyes unable to stray away from the pleasurable desperation filling your features. 

“Gonna come like this, sweetheart?” He taunts, driving you into him even harder. 

“Mmm- my God, yeah- yes,” you cry out, eyes rolling back as the coil in your belly finally tightens, your breathing ragged as needy moans escape your lips. 

With a final roll of your hips and the utterance of a that’s my girl, the coil finally snaps, pleasure crashing over you, coursing through your veins as you come all over him, your slick unable to stay within the limits of your clothes, leaking and dripping down the sides of him and onto the mattress below. Your thighs convulse around his waist, his hold on you continuing your thrusts, dragging out your orgasm until your own hands find his and rip him away from you.

“Ya ain’t done yet, sugar,” Joel gruffs, grabbing the globes of your ass cheeks and dragging you down, letting you feel his ignored and now raging erection. 

“Never said I was,” you purr, a soft moan blessing his ears at the feel of his bulge against your ass. He can feel your smirk against his chest. 

Body still trembling, Joel lifts your ass in the air, sliding your bottoms down over the curve of your body. The stickiness of your panties pulls off with a wet squelch, the cool air of the room mingling with the wet warmth of your bare pussy, the stark contrast forcing chills to run through your veins. 

“God,” he murmurs as you give a little wiggle of your ass in the air. “Pretty as a peach, huh, darlin’?” He guides you lower, pushing you down onto his bulge. The hardness of him beneath you immediately sends a fiery need to your core. Your hands move on their own as you pull your body up, reaching for the buttons and zipper of his jeans, undoing them with ease despite the eager shake of your hand. You pull the jeans down just enough to let his cock spring free, thick and angry and leaking. 

“Oh, fuck,” you swallow your gasp. “God, I need you so bad,” you whine, already lifting up to line the tip of him to your swollen cunt. 

You sink down with a breathless moan, your head flying back as your hands grip onto his tummy to keep you from buckling. 

Joel’s breathing stutters, his moans filling the air as you practically choke his cock. “Shit- so fuckin- fuckin’ tight.” His hands find their home on the meat of your ass, holding you tight, grounding himself from coming like a damn teenager.

You move slowly at first, savoring the way he feels inside of you, how big he is. God, you don’t think you’ve ever taken anything quite as long and as thick as him. Your heart skips a beat at that, knowing that he’s ruined you for anyone else. 

It isn’t long before the raw need takes over, and you move faster, hips rolling back and forth as you ride him, the wet sound of skin against skin as you alternate to a bounce ever so often. 

Despite the risk of hurting his back even more, he can’t stop himself from gripping you tighter, his nails digging into your flesh as his hips buck up into you, starting their own rhythm, meeting every one of your thrusts. The sensation is overwhelming with the size of him; it’s a perfect mix of pleasure and pain, mixing sweet whines of ecstasy with whines of overstimulation, and it’s the best music to have ever graced his ears. 

“Look at ya,” he grunts. “Fuckin’ made for this, weren’t ya? Fuckin’ made for takin’ this cock, huh, sweetheart?” 

You nod weakly at his words. They send a flutter down your belly to your pussy, and his mouth is all it takes to send you to your second brink of collapse — your heart beating rapidly in your chest as you move, as he drives himself into you without abandon. 

Every thrust pushes you further to the edge, the sting of the stretch, the sensation of being so full — it’s almost too much to bear. He can hear it in the way your cries change. It’s becoming too much. 

“Y’ can take it, sweetheart, almost there,” he grunts. His hands take over in guiding your movements, urging you faster, harder, bringing you both to the cliff’s edge. 

“C’mon, baby, can feel her squeezin’ me, know she wanna come, baby. Breathe, doll, jus’ let go,” he rasps, his words coming in staggered.

The wet tightness of your walls, both the feel and the sound, causes Joel to fall first — a low, guttural groan filling the room as he fills you with his hot, thick spend.

The sensation of him pulsing inside you, unloading everything he’s worth, sends you over your edge, your pussy clenching around his cock as you come, the sensation rippling through you, shredding your vocal cords as you scream out in pleasure. 

Everything goes dark for you, nothing but the fuzzy sound of Joel’s sweet praises at the top of your head as he guides you through your come down. 

“Did so fuckin’ good f’ me, darlin’,” he murmurs. “Sweet girl.”

For an asshole, who knew he could be so sweet? 

You roll off of Joel as soon as your heart steadies, your entire body on fire from all the exertion. You can feel Joel’s body stiffen as you use him for support. His back is killing him right now.

A few moments pass as your eyes slowly start to close, but the deep gruff of your name stops you from dozing. 

You turn your head to the man beside you. “Yes?” 

For the first time today, it’s Joel who can’t make eye contact with you. “Can you, uh… can you-” he clears his throat, trying to rid himself of his awkwardness. “Can you warm up the heat pack again?” 

Your smirk lifts your cheek before you can even try to stop it. “Come again?” 

He lets out a frustrated huff. And he can’t turn away from you. His back is killing him right now. “My back-”

“Yeah, what about your back?” 

“You fuckin’ little shit-”

You giggle as you flip onto your side, your hand holding your head up to get a better look at him. “Your back is hurting, baby? Need me to get the heat pack for you, hm?” 

He doesn’t respond. He just has the deepest, most grumpiest scowl known to man on display. 

“Oh, come on. You need my help, is that it? Need to hear you say it, unc.” You emphasize the last syllable of your sentence, a belly laugh threatening to escape you. 

Oh, two can play at that game. “Yeah, baby, I need your help. I need the help from my beautiful, beautiful niece, hm? My beautiful, needy niece whose pussy gets all soaked jus’ thinkin’ ‘bout me, huh? Gets all wet and needy thinkin’ ‘bout her uncle-”

Your resolve finally snaps, your eyes clamping shut as you cover your ears, loud la la la’s coming from your mouth as you ungraciously roll yourself off of his bed. “Enough, fine! Fine! Fuckin’ nasty,” you groan as you make your way to the kitchen. 

“‘M not the one who started it, sweetheart,” Joel says, a triumphant smile plastered across his cocky face. 

“I made you cookies by the way,” you yell after a beat. “Want one?” 

Joel’s hand reaches for his belly. He doesn’t need one, that’s for sure. “Yeah,” he responds not a second later. 

You come back to his bedroom, heat pack in one hand, no cookie in the other. You hand him the heat pack. You make him adjust it himself. 

“Where’s the cookie?” He asks, a tinge of impatience on his tongue. 

“Oh, I thought you were gonna come down and get it.” 

He looks at you incredulously. 

“I just figured you wanted to start being more independent and all. Given how strenuous you were being a few moments ago,” you offer with a faux innocence.  

“I swear to fuckin’ God, when I get my hands on you-”

“Your hands on me? Yeah? When?” You start making your way out of his bedroom. “Come get me if you wanna show me a lesson. Know you been dying to all week.” 

If he can fuck you the way he did, maybe full-time bed rest isn’t what Joel needs. He needs to stretch and move around; he needs to activate his muscles, especially being on the older side. It really is basic biology.

I would absolutely love to hear what you guys thought of this! Any and all your love and commentary truly keeps me going and motivated even when the writer’s block is at its strongest. Wouldn’t be here without you all. I have so much love in my heart for you! Talk to y’all soon🩶

I cannot get myself to write for Joel or for TLOU without mentioning the horrors occurring in Palestine. Please check out the links in my navigation + bio to learn about the situation in Palestine and also learn about some ways in which you can help🇵🇸. Reading and interacting with those links takes 5 minutes of your time at the bare minimum.

Leaf divider by @saradika-graphics

HOT DAMN! 🥵

And him wanting her to stay?! 🥰🥰🥰🥰

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

summary: the world crumbled before you could experience the touch of another. Joel does his best to keep you innocent for as long as he can.

pairing: Jackson!Joel Miller x afab virgin!reader.

warnings: 18+ mdni. established, undefined relationship. PUSSY RUBBING. fluids galore. just the tip. perv!joel. unspecified age gap. fingering. dirty talk. overstimulation. male masturbation. FEELS. Joel is a conflicted old man. reader is able bodied. no Ellie. w.c. 2.9k

an: i watched a porn clip and instantly went rabid thinking about jackson!joel.

-> follow up to a glimpse of heaven but it's not necessary to read the first part.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐬 ⋅ 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

Like most of Jackson, the house you share with Joel is quiet and calm when night falls. Rain softly patters against the window as you lie in bed, wide awake. Another night of fruitless sleep under your belt.

You huff irritatedly, your hand collapsing against the mattress as you bitterly kick your bedspread onto the floor. Your oversized shirt clings to your body, your skin dewy from the exertion, and you're close to crying. Your limbs are wrought and overworked after hours of touching yourself with no orgasm to show for it.

Your hand won't cut it; it isn't enough. It can't reach all those sensitive spots that make you float among the stars.

Warmth pools in your abdomen as you think of one that's the perfect size.

A hazy hue of yellow light pours under your bedroom door as it spills from the room across the hall.

Joel.

It takes a long time to get to know someone, but they tend to meld with your soul once you do in one way or another.

From the start, Joel was intimidating. He was so frayed around the edges that you were afraid he'd completely unravel in the middle of your journey. He didn't seem to care for your company as the two of you traveled across the plains to Jackson, hesitation poisoning every fiber of your being, but you kept on with the strange man since no one else was willing to trek across the states. You desperately needed a new life, a fresh start away from the Boston QZ, and Jackson sounded like the perfect spot.

Over time, Joel opened up, conversing little by little as you drove for miles across the now barren US. Usually, after you had a close call with raiders or the lone gunman, he'd go silent, the weight of protecting someone other than himself sinking further into his soul, consuming that much further.

What you never expected was for him to be your first touch.

Sweltering tension slowly grew like a wildfire. Catching each other's curious stares, lingering fingers, and salacious banter until, one night, he slid a cautious hand into your panties. He claimed your untouched sex when you confessed over a roaring fire and a bottle of whiskey that you'd never been with another. His weathered hands were gentle as he sunk his fingers into your core, watching with rabid fascination as you came for the first time, gasping from his touch.

The following day, as he drove you across the interstate with the sun slowly rising, he made sure you knew that wouldn't happen again. "I'm much too old. Don't wanna waste your time with a mean ol' grump like me."

You didn't bring it up again.

One month after settling into Jackson, picking bedrooms, and deciding who would do which chores, Joel had his first taste of you.

It wasn't supposed to happen.

You chewed your dinner slowly in the modestly sized dining room across from Joel. You were so lost in thought that he was concerned enough to ask what was wrong.

"What does it mean when a man eats you out?" you naively pondered, causing him to choke on his veggies.

Joel had never looked so red before as he took a long drink of whiskey. You instantly apologized, explaining that you overheard a group of women conversing while you tended the communal garden.

He raised a hand, curbing your frantic rambles. "S'ok. Figured you'd be learnin' things. Just didn' think I'd be the one you'd ask."

"But I trust you."

His jaw twitched at your words.  

Later that night, Joel fell to his knees at the edge of your bed and tossed your legs over his broad shoulders. "Never tasted a pussy so sweet," he mumbled against your glistening folds as you ran your fingers through his graying curls. You came multiple times on his tongue, grinding his whiskered jaw while he hungrily lapped at your soaked folds like he was dying of thirst.

You didn't bring it up again.

It's warmer in Jackson now. The sun hangs longer in the sky. Snow boots and jackets are stowed away until the next freeze.

You slink from the warmth of your bed and pad sockless across the hall. Lightening flickers brightly under the starry sky. The night rain storm slowly whirls through the city, soaking everything in its path.

Joel's door is open. A soft smile tugs at your lips; it's his way of saying he's still up. He keeps it ajar while he reads before rolling onto his side and bidding goodnight to the world.

Three soft knocks alert Joel from the guitar-building manual he's currently reading. Dread clouds his mind for a moment, wondering why you'd be knocking on his door at this time of night, but he takes a deep breath and grounds himself in the softness of his bed.

"Yeah?" he calls out. His tone is rough around the edges after a long day on patrol.

You poke your head around the door with a timid smirk. He looks at you over his reading glasses before marking his spot and laying his book on the side table.

You don't say anything as you stride into his room. He notices your oversized shirt swaying at your knees before you climb into his bed and curl against his side like a cat. 

He drapes an arm around your shoulder, unconsciously pulling you closer.

"'Nother bad dream?" he questions with a low rumble.

You shake your head. "Can't sleep."

You nuzzle your face into the crook of his shoulder and feel him nod, understanding the endless struggle for a night of peaceful sleep. It's improved since moving to Jackson, but the dreams never end.

Silence fills the bedroom except for the soft pitter-patter of rain against the roof. Joel leans against the headboard, sighs through his nose, and lets his thoughts drift. He's content to sit with you in his arms for as long as possible, even if that makes him selfish.

He wonders if you hope to find someone to settle down with, someone less ridged and mentally maimed, someone less him.

The thought drives a stake through his heart.

He'd be crazy to say he didn't love being around you. Your laugh and lopsided smile took the first brick out of his impenetrable fortress when you spied a deer and her calf frolicking in an open field in Kansas. From then on, it became easier for him to let his walls down.

When you came to him with those big doe eyes and urges about wanting to know what it's like to be touched and desired, he gave in each time despite his reasoning.

He would masturbate each time after getting his hands on you, also thinking about the early days when he'd catch glimpses of you changing or the time he first saw you naked while showering at the YMCA. 

He's still trying to figure out what to make of you. Friends? Lovers? He certainly didn't mean to fall head over heels. Love had no place in his heart, but he'd be a fool to say he wasn't extremely fond of you.

"Can you make me feel good again?" your lithe voice broke the silence.

Joel stops breathing. Your question doused him like a cold bucket of water. He knew this would come back and haunt him.

His hand curls tight around your shoulder as he wrestles with the devil on his shoulder. "Told ya we shouldn't keep doin' this, Sweetheart," he reasons, trying not to break your heart.

"But I can't make myself feel as good as when you've done it. I've tried!" You whine, burying your face into his chest.

"S'not that I don't wanna," he admits, soothing your soft cries. "S'just, you're too precious to do that wit' someone like me."

You lift your head and brazenly brush your lips against the exposed skin of his collarbone, earning a low groan as he curls a large hand around the back of your neck. He tugs you away from his skin, your lips still forming a tight 'O', and pins you with a stern gaze.

"Joel, it hurts." Your watery eyes and trembling bottom lip are his downfall.

"Lay back, Sweetheart, and spread your legs," he orders with a husky tone.

You don't make a noise; too afraid he'll stop if you do. Your cunt beats against the gusset of your panties as you lay on your back, spreading and bending both legs at the knee, just like he taught you.

A warm breath fans down your face as he shifts down your body before kneeling between your legs and tracing teasing fingers over your covered mound. His nails lightly scratch along the worn cotton, making you suck in a frantic breath. He slips a practiced hand beneath the crotch of your panties and deftly explores your folds, gently rubbing small circles on your clit after wetting his fingers with the arousal that's pouring from your cunt.

"Oh, she's achin' real bad, huh?" he groans as your opening clenches beneath his wandering touch.

"Joel, please, I need-" You gasp, hips wantonly grinding against his hand, desperate for any type of friction.

The muscles in his jaw ache. It's only natural you'd be wanting more.

Before he thinks twice, Joel draws his cock out from his sweatpants. Your stomach cramps at the sight as it smacks against his belly; he's massive.

His cock hangs heavy between his thighs like a solid, dangerous threat. It weeps from the dusky tip, shiny liquid dripping from the crown as he squeezes his hand around the girthy base peppered with dark gray, wiry hair.

"Got somethin' that'll make you feel good, sweet girl." he grits, tapping his cock against the covered crux of your pussy. It thwaps devastatingly against your clit, forcing a gasp from your lips as mind-numbing pleasure races up your spine and leaves you staring dumbly up at him.

"S'that what you need? Need my cock to keep 'er from achin so bad'?" his cock is searing as it lies in wait atop your panty-clad mound. You swear you can feel his blood pumping steadily into his shaft.

He cautiously thrusts his hips, sliding his length along your cotton-covered mound. Your slick arousal seeps thru the material, wetting the thin cotton and creating a sensuous touch as he glides along your cunt.

He shoves your shirt up over your chest, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. He licks his lips, "Such'a beauty."

Your cheeks flame at his words. Having such a man say things about you makes you lightheaded.

Joel groans as your panties practically are now see-through from your combined fluids staining the cotton, "Oh, baby." You whine at his pet name. "I got ya. Keep those legs open, just like I taught ya. S'good girl."

He keeps a steady pace, sawing back and forth over your extremely soaked mound. Your puffy pussy lips stick to the soaked cotton, leaving nothing to Joel's imagination. He glides easily along your slit, your juices smoothing his path until your arching your back and chanting his name like a prayer.

Watching you orgasm under his touch is enough to drive him wild. He throws all sense of logic out the window. He's okay with being selfish again.

"Let's get these off, yeah." He hooks two fingers under the elastic and slides your panties off before his words register in your euphoric haze. "Feel even better without 'em."

He swallows hard at the sight laid out before him. The sheets splay and curve around your naked body, making you look like an ethereal being sent to test his limits.

"Gonna give 'er a kiss, Sweetheart," his deep timbre vibrates your body as he draws close and touches the bulbous tip of his cock to your exposed folds. Blood rushes to your cunt instantly, bordering on the edge of pain. You cry out from the intense contact, and arousal slips freely down your crack as he traces his cockhead up and down your soaked slit.

"How's she feel?" He anchors his head, looking down at you from under his lashes.

"S'nice," you half whisper, half moan. The wanton bliss slowly consumes you the more he rubs against your sticky folds, keeping a hand locked around his girthy base, his crown glistening with your combined arousal.

Your eyes tear open, back arching like a bow, when he cants his hips and taps his cock square in the center of your cunt.

"M'not gonna fuck you, sweet girl, wanna keep you whole," he declares, holding true to his word despite the overwhelming need to claim you.

He can't be the one to sully you. "Ain' much left'a this world that's as sweet n' pure as you."

Your core quivers as his dusky, throbbing crown glides along your glistening seam. He tentatively explores uncharted areas, brows furrowed with concentration, fighting with inner demons who want to claim, corrupt, and mold you for only his touch.

His name leaves your lips with a mess of desperate, frustrated moans, "Please, Joel."

He snaps out of his haze. He's done almost everything he can to keep you safe and protected in this new way of life. He'll be damned if he doesn't grant you anything you ask for.

"S'hurtin' somethin' fierce, huh?" He grunts, angling his hips until his cock lines up with your fluttering hole. "Bet she needs somethin' big'er than fingers to ease 'er throbbin'."

His cock catches on your opening, forcing a hiss through his clenched teeth. As tight as you are, he can't stop from pushing into your warmth. He blocks out any sense of reasoning that's shouting from the back of his mind as he slowly nudges his cock into your weeping, inviting hole.

Joel goes brain-dumb momentarily, watching in immoral awe as your core ever so slowly swallows his fat tip and breaches your quivering hole, forcing a raspy whine from your throat.

So warm, safe, and wet.

Joel's never felt anything like you. He wants to bury himself, slide his cock as deep as he can, claim every inch, endlessly fill you with his cum, and keep you only for him.

You frantically reach for him, hands clutching the air as he rubs a callous thumb over your clit while keeping a steady hold on the base of his cock.

"S'all she's gonna get," he states, returning to his senses and hissing when your cunt tightens. "S'just the tip."

A soft begging whine bubbles from your lips as you extend your arms, needing something solid to hold before latching onto his wrists.

Your hips move on their own, desperate to feel his length completely shunted in your velvet warmth, but brute hands envelop your hips and pin them to the bed.

He shakes his head, salt and pepper curls fraying across his forehead. "Don' be greedy now." He tuts, narrowing his gaze down at you.

A garbled mess of nonsense tumbles from your lips as your fingernails dig into his muscular, hairy forearms.

"I know. S'big, huh?" He lands a solemn thumb on your clit, rubbing tender circles around the tiny bud. "Stay wit' me, sweet girl. Wanna feel you come on my cock."

Your mind spins. It's all too much, and yet, not enough. Your head tosses from side to side, and you're frantic to survive, breathing hard and fast, waiting for the drop to come and, at the same time, never wanting it to come.

"Don't I deserve it? Keepin' you safe all this time." Joel muses, stroking his cock in time with his teasing thumb. His eyes never leave where he's splitting you open. He's barely penetrating you, but it's enough to know if he had, you'd be struggling to take him.

"Come on, Sweetheart. Let go f'me," he urges, his touch growing faster. Severe, tightly drawn circles tease you closer to the edge.

Your stomach flips. A heaviness settles in your throat, your heart lodging in the tight confines, your blood pumping faster and faster. A lithe whine slithers free, escaping into the dimly lit room and burrows into Joel's mind.

His jaw clenches, and a dark growl rumbles from his chest, "Thatta' girl. Make'a fuckin' mess'a me."

Your dripping hole quivers and throbs around his swollen tip as you come with a silent scream, body locking taut, trying its best to engulf his length entirely.

Joel curses, jerking his length with long, steady tugs and rubbing his weeping, cream-covered tip around your soaked folds before his spine goes straight, and he yanks his cock from your core, curling in on himself and spilling his seed all over your belly with a deep, gravelly moan.

You sag into his sheets, spent with a shiny thin layer of dew and white ropes of spend painted across your abdomen.

"Shit." Joel curses, breathing heavily as he holds himself by his hands, which press into the mattress by your head, keeping you locked beneath him.

You hold his studious gaze. His dark eyes ruminate, tinged with mood, as his gaze drills down into your very core, threatening to demolish your soul. You resign that this was nothing special. Just night, another night you won't talk about again.  

Joel eases off of you with a grunt, his bones aching from the tension despite the brief, pleasurable relief, and tucks his cock back away into his sweatpants. He shuffles to the bathroom momentarily before returning with a damp washcloth.

He wipes the cloth over your belly and between your thighs, cleaning the combined arousal from your skin before chucking the rag into the hamper with a sigh.

"I know," you mutter, grimacing as you roll onto your side and sit up, tugging your shirt down. "I won't mention it again."

A solid, warm hand on your shoulder stops your retreat. "Stay," Joel whispers with soft, yearning eyes. "I wan' you to stay, sweet girl."

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

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Oh my god! This was such a good story!

😍

Are we on the same side?

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI!!!)

Word count: 8K

Pairing: Separated husband!Joel Miller x wife!reader

Summary: Joel and you are trialling temporary separation due to repeated arguments with one another after nearly twenty years of marriage.

He returns to the marital home to do you a favour, flirting ensues and the sexual tension gets out of hand because of course it does.

You may need some clarification on what you are…

AO3

You put up the hearts, and I'll put up both my aces Not very far apart Still on different pages

Before having kids, you used to take every moment of your life for granted. 

You were just a kid yourself back then, when you had two babies with a boy who shared your class and you were so in love you couldn’t fathom a life without him. For years you were Mama, the person who fed them and changed them, bathed them and rocked them to sleep. You worked night shifts while the love of your life worked in the day, all so food could be put on the table and an apartment could be kept to keep you all warm and safe. It wasn’t until a few years ago when your kids gained their own independence that you slowly started to regain your own life back, now you were nearly forty and working a job that gave you more freedom even if the stress levels have gotten to you more than once and your marriage… well that’s a separate issue on its own. 

You’d spent the morning doing things you wanted to, thanking whoever that your kids were teenagers who could do their own breakfast and helped with chores without coaxing. You’ve been to pilates and the salon and had your infills done, your nails a glossy shade of pillar box red in an almond shape and your toes the same colour. You’d even managed to grab a Starbucks and sipped it languidly as you people watched from the safety of your car, enjoying your chosen playlist on Spotify without the bluetooth getting hijacked. The icing on the cake though? The fact you got to shower at home without someone barging in to ask for foundation or to borrow your strapless bra or your new Adidas Superstars. 

It’s mid way through Saturday afternoon that your relaxation comes skidding to a halt in the form of your jaded lover knocking heavily against the pane of glass on your front door, the irritating noise makes you scowl and you drag your feet to answer it. 

You crack it open, familiar brown eyes stare at you and yours narrow back. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask flatly, the male on the other side picks up on your terse mood and his shoulders rise defensively. If it wasn’t for the little disagreement you’d had a few days prior on the phone over something as mundane as renewing car insurance, you’d have probably been more excited to see him but the way he can sometimes undermine you really grates on your nerves, you hate that he gets so swept up in work that he comes home and talks to you like he’s your foreman. 

The minute he’d started questioning your choice like a fucking know it all, you’d merely hung up in irritation, refusing to answer when he’d called you back twice to apparently try and patch it over. You’d read the I’m sorry and I love you more than you’ll ever know text he sent after over and over, trying to figure out how things had come to this. 

Nearly two decades together, married, with children and a house. You and Joel Miller have been torn apart by too many petty arguments that end with you sobbing and him walking away, you’d had to call it and come up with a possible solution with the marriage counsellor before it was too late. 

He huffs and lifts his hand, showing you the toolbox you’ve seen many times with its contents strewn about somewhere in your house. 

“A little birdie told me that you’re in need of a repair.” Joel’s lip twists at the side when your mood seems to perk just a fraction, there’s multiple things that need a little TLC right now but he can certainly worm his way back into your good books with a good old fashioned repair. You can only assume the little birdie was Sarah or Ellie. 

You open the door fully and step backwards so all six foot something of him can meander through your front door, he wipes his feet on the welcome mat and toes his sneakers off, nudging them into the neat space where a tattered pair of Vans have been kicked off hard enough to scuff the wall and a pair of spotless ankle boots have been nicely placed beside your shoes. 

“Where’s the babies?” He frowns, looking around and noticing the lack of noise. 

You smile as you shut the door behind him as he refers to the girls as his babies, despite Sarah being eighteen and Ellie just turned fourteen. 

With them both being girls, he’s soft anyway but Sarah is his first born who made him a father and Ellie’s still his tiny baby who he’s soaked up every second of when she was a newborn because you both knew you weren’t having any more children.

“At the movies together watching Twisters, Garret backed out on Sarah so Ellie went instead.” You inform him, sneaking an appreciative glance from the corner of your eye. 

Joel makes a noise at the mention of Sarah’s boyfriend, never having liked him for whatever reason, you think it’s because they’re eerily alike so therefore clash. 

“Little prick will be back hangin’ around here next week.” He grumbles, placing his toolbox on the bottom step.  

“She’s just going through the universal thing of falling for a country boy.” You tease. 

“Well as long as he don’t get her pregnant before graduation then we won’t have a problem.”

“She’s smarter than us.” You say. 

“I know.” Joel agrees, you sneak one more glance at the country boy who got you pregnant before graduation. 

He’s wearing slim fitting black sweatpants with a worn grey t-shirt with a faded motif on, the chain of his St Christopher barely noticeable beneath it and his thick rimmed glasses are perched on his nose. 

You miss the hungry look he shoots you when you turn away, chestnut coloured eyes drifting low to the denim shorts you wear that he’s sure you’ve had since you were in your twenties. They fit snug and are contoured perfectly to the shape of your ass, your cheeks barely peeking out. What really makes his dick hard is the fact you’re wearing one of his sweatshirts, an old Dallas Cowboys one that you’ve always been particularly fond of. 

“Nice flowers. Who got ya those?” He nods with a smirk towards the vase on the side table that’s filled with blooming peonies and baby’s breath. 

The beautiful arrangement of flowers had arrived the morning after your petty argument with Joel, a gift from the universe if you will when you needed something bright and blooming to drag you out of the despair you were frantically becoming encased in. 

“Oh.” You hum and feign ignorance, reaching out to gently touch the edge of a baby pink peony. “Just a friend.” You smile vaguely, Joel rolls his eyes. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

“A guy sent them?” He presses, shifting his weight, your grin turns devious. 

“Mmm.” You coo, feeling thrilled when that lick of annoyance flickers across your husband’s face at your flippant tone. 

“Who?” He grins back.

“I’m not telling you.” 

“Come on, I just wanna talk to him, I wanna know why he thinks it’s okay to send my wife flowers.” 

“Ex wife.” You snort, Joel glares at you. 

“We’re separated, not divorced. Y’know what, we’re barely even separated.” He disagrees, you bite the inside of your cheek in amusement. 

“Apparently you’re here to fix my shelves and you’re doing a whole lot of yapping, very unprofessional of you.” You goad, stepping backwards when he begins to saunter towards you with a certain look in his eyes. 

“I’ll fix your shelves, I’ll fix anythin’ you want.” Joel mumbles, stalking you. 

“Big promises.” You taunt, lifting your chin defiantly. His hands grasp your waist, pulling you to him and you let him, leaning up to wrap your arms around his neck. 

You love this, the playful behaviour and flirting since you decided to live apart for a while. It feels new and exciting, a rush that you felt when you first got together as youngsters just before your world flipped and you were pregnant before your frontal lobe had developed. 

He smells delectable, you can’t stop yourself from nosing at his bearded jaw where his cologne is the strongest. Joel’s throat bobs, his fingers drift upwards under your borrowed sweatshirt to feel the bare skin between your shorts and bra. 

As his structured jaw slides across yours and his nose just barely brushes your own, you feel his breath hit your lips and you know he really wants to kiss you but is waiting for you to make the first move. 

You want to, you really do but you’re scared of falling into a false sense of security when you haven’t even scratched the surface of your underlying problems that the marriage counsellor suggested needed to be covered before you could get back on track. 

Joel enjoys the way your head fits against his collarbone, loves the sweet smell of your hair and skin. 

“Fix my shelf.” You huff into his skin as you retreat, he sighs deeply but picks up his toolbox and begins to follow you up the stairs with his eyes glued to your backside. 

It almost feels strange for Joel to be back in your shared bedroom after three weeks away, he hasn’t been back for any extra clothes or personal items. If he’s come over to see the kids, then he’s stayed downstairs or in the garden with them. 

Everything looks the same which is a strange observation given that really you’ve barely been apart for any time at all but it’s comforting to be back. 

The bed is made in its usual dress up of plain white sheets with useless throw pillows stacked neatly, there’s a pile of clean laundry resting on your vanity chair but also clothes tossed on the floor where you’ve been indecisive. 

Joel whistles when he sees the closet door open and the fallen shelf leaning against the door, there’s a scrape on the inside wall where it’s collided and taken the paint off. It looks like a fairly simple job, the wall plugs have probably come loose over time and needed replacing, it’s not as if IKEA is known for making indestructible furniture. 

“You want the step ladder?” You question as he surveys the situation, rubbing the wall with his fingertips to see if the scrape will alleviate some. 

“I think so.” He replies. “They in the garage?” 

“No, Ellie’s room, she was trying to hang some fairy lights earlier but only got halfway before she threw a fit about the command hooks.” You chuckle, wandering off to go retrieve them for him, already certain he’s made a note to finish the job for her before he leaves. 

When you get back, he’s got some tools ready, his drill in hand already. He steps onto the bottom rung of the step ladder, groaning as he stretches. 

You observe for a moment, knowing it irks him, he hates being watched on a job.

“Jesus, it’s fuckin’ dusty up here. You’re a terrible housewife, neglectin’ your duties.” Joel pokes, knowing you won’t take a blind bit of notice. 

“You wanna know why we really separated? Because you neglected your duties as a husband to satisfy your wife.” You reply easily, Joel chuckles and looks down at you. 

“Oh spare me the dramatics, you’ve never been unsatisfied by me in your whole entire life.” He sings, infuriatingly he isn’t wrong. 

“I’m telling the kids you were being sexist to me.” You threaten, chewing on a sinister smile. “Ellie will beat you up.” 

“She won’t.” Joel grins, you mumble out a complaint. “She’s a daddy’s girl, maybe try your luck with Sarah, I’m sure she’d give me a lecture.” Not that you think he needs one, he’s the biggest supporter of you and his girls. 

“They’re both Daddy’s girls, the little traitors. Nine whole months carrying them and giving birth after what felt like days and days with no fucking pain relief and this is the thanks I get? Not to mention my nipples being sucked raw.” You grumble to yourself, kicking some laundry into a pile at the side of the wall, Joel makes you jump when he groans suddenly.

“Just sayin’ but your tits were amazin’ when you were breastfeedin’ - shit, they’re still fucking phenomenal.” He sighs dreamily, closing his eyes. “Fuck, you were so hot carryin’ my babies, I’d have kept you pregnant if I had my way.” 

You bite your cheeks to hide the satisfaction that your husband still wants you. 

“You can’t say stuff like that to me anymore.” 

“Why? We separated or somethin’?” Your husband frowns comically. “Show me your tits.” 

“No.” 

“Come on, just one.” He grins boyishly. “The right one is my favourite.” You stick your middle finger up at him.

“Asshole.” You sniff, walking back to lay on the end of your bed. 

You pick up your phone, mindlessly scrolling through Facebook posts made by the PTA at the girls school while Joel complains about wall fixings or something equally as dull. 

In the end, you get bored and toss it away, instead opting to enjoy the eye candy in the form of a senior (essentially) gentleman on a stepladder cussing about how IKEA can suck his balls. 

“Piece of fuckin’ shit!” He complains when the shelf slips again in your closet, he takes a calming breath and contains his frustration, you snicker at him. “How did this even break, sweetheart?” Joel huffs, changing out for a larger wall plug. 

“Dunno, it just did.” You answer vaguely, looking at your ceiling.

“Bullshit.” He quips. “Did you put too much shit on it?” 

“No.” You hum, shaking your head. 

“You’re a liar.” He states plainly, equally unamused. “What did you put on here that was so heavy it collapsed?” 

“Nothing, maybe it was just your shoddy workmanship to begin with.” You quip, not looking at him though you desperately want to because you can imagine the outrage on his face but you won’t be able to not laugh. 

“It wasn’t me that put it up.” He glares. 

“Sure, whatever you say.” You smile sweetly at him. It’s quiet for a minute, then Joel speaks again. 

“You put filled shoeboxes up here, didn’t you? After I told you nothin’ heavier than a few sweaters? ” He asks knowingly. 

Silence and then… 

“Yeah.” You nod, he sighs loudly and turns back to drill in a screw now that he seems happy with the stability. 

You watch him as he works, angling himself to see better and be able to use his drill at the correct angle. 

The muscles in his back move and his shoulders look unbelievably broad beneath his t-shirt, it hugs his biceps and rides up when he shifts to show a slither of his boxers and bare back. 

Your mouth almost waters and you press your thighs together but it obscures your view so you part them again to peek at him through the gap in your knees. 

It’s well known that your husband is an attractive man, he always has been. You’ve watched him grow from the gangly teenager with a backwards baseball cap practically glued to his head you were first besotted with to the almost middle aged and greying man that now works before you. 

Most nights when it’s dark, quiet and the house is still, you pleasure yourself beneath the duvet thinking of him, hips moving frantically against the whir of your vibrator. It can be any scenario of the long time you’ve been together, two decades holds enough memories to fill books upon books with pictures and anecdotes, some that you keep stored away just for you. 

Sometimes you dream about the three day honeymoon in Nashville you had when your parents forced you to get married before Sarah was born, back when you first lived in Arlington in a shitty apartment you could barely afford with you both working instead of attending college. Then there was that night just under four years later with sex so explosive that you’d had the fleeting thought you’d immediately gotten pregnant again, only to actually find out you’d been right two weeks later when you’d presented Joel with yet another positive pregnancy test before twenty five. 

You chew your lip, lashes fluttering and you’re sure he notices you ogling him in the mirror that puts your reflection in his eye line by the smirk you see. 

God, he pisses you off so much sometimes. He makes your cunt wet and your teeth grind all at once, you never knew that was possible. 

Rolling off the bed and onto your feet, you casually turn so that your back is to him on the ladder but you’re in the perfect position in the reflection of the mirror in front of him. He doesn’t notice at first over the sound of the drilling but when it stops and he goes to test the stability of the shelf, he freezes and the arm holding his drill drops limply to his side. 

He sees you begin to strip down in the mirror, shimmying your shorts down and then yanking off your oversized sweater. Joel freezes, gulping when you turn away to unclip your bra, the expanse of your back is smooth and if he thought your backside looked good in those shorts, the high cut panties you’re wearing hit on a whole other level. 

“What are you doin’?” He asks when your fingers hook into the sides of your panties, they flex within the material and you peer over your shoulder at him, big doe eyes the opposite of fucking innocence. 

“Just taking a shower, I’m filthy.” You titter, holding his piercing gaze through the mirror. 

“Funny, you’ve done nothin’ but sit on your pretty little ass and watch me inhale dust that’s been here for the last fifteen years.” 

“Well, you could always join me.” You shrug, finally slipping your underwear down your thighs, Joel’s mouth goes dry. “Only if you want to, of course.” You beam at him and then sashay away into the en suite, Joel’s resolve breaks very quickly (immediately actually) and he’s yanking off his glasses and tossing them onto the dresser and plucking his t-shirt over his head in an instant. 

Maybe the solution is to fuck it out and he’ll gladly go as many times as needed, you always did need to be fucked hard when your attitude started to test him. 

The shower has been switched on and you’re naked under the stream as he finishes yanking both his socks, sweatpants and boxers off. He admires you through the glass, kicking his clothes into a messy pile before climbing in there with you, the air tight and hot. 

His big hands enrobe you from behind, long dexterous fingers gripping at your waist and pawing at all the exposed skin it’s been weeks since he’s seen. 

You tilt your head back from the water, resting it against his shoulder and pushing back into him, holding onto his forearms and digging your nails into his flesh. 

“Look who couldn’t resist, you bad boy. Whatever will the therapist say?” You mock, pouting those pretty lips. 

“You’re a goddamn tease, you know that?” He growls, nipping at your jaw and earlobe, holding the weight of your breasts in his hands. 

“If you say so.” You breathe sexily, dragging him by the back of his neck to meet your lips in a hungry kiss. 

His cock is trapped between his soft stomach and your lower back, smearing a pearlescent gleam as he anchors himself to you.

You moan into his mouth when he teases your nipples into tight peaks, plucking them and roughly cupping your tits. 

“I want to lick your pretty little pussy until you cum on my face.” He admits into your mouth, barely letting you breathe past the fierce kisses. Your clit throbs at his confession and you grab hold of his hand, guiding it down your body to between your legs where he teases your lips.

Your back arches prettily into him, the free hand holding your breast now grips your throat, forcing you to tilt your head back. 

“Ah.” You whine when the roughened pads of his fingers stroke your clit. “Mmm, there.” You hum, pushing into his fingers. He entertains you, dipping his fingertips to your honey slick hole and back up again, dragging the gooey wetness to smother on your clit until it’s hardened and desperate to be sucked on like candy. 

“Bet you could cum like this.” He says gruffly, beard scratching at your shoulders and neck, wherever he greedily kisses your dewy wet skin. 

“Wanna cum on you, Joel.” You whine, reaching behind you to grasp his thickness. He ruts into your hand, smearing more stickiness that you want to lick away from his tip. 

You absorb him similarly to a plant and the sun, the bulk of his form plastered against your back so big and strong, skin sun kissed and warm. He’s safety to you, every single thing about him, everything familiar that you know. 

“Needy little slut.” He whispers, your core becomes aflame at the debauchery, you nod in confirmation. “Oh, you agree? You just need a cock to sit on and your shitty attitude will be right as rain?” 

“Only your cock.” You whine, flicking your thumb against the underside of him, tracing out a vein you’re very familiar with. 

“Yeah, baby. Only mine, I know, I know.” His sweet breath is hot against your cheek as he pants, fingers strumming your clit faster. “You wanna cum for me, baby? Show me how good you can be?” You hum and nod, knees almost buckling, this is the fastest you’ve approached orgasm since being separated. 

“Gonna cum, Joel.” You say huskily, hips bucking into his hand until it’s only been two seconds since your revelation and you’re cumming - wet and sticky - into the palm of his hand. His mouth is on yours, you’re moaning and moving erratically, Joel’s cock is dribbling a steady stream of pre cum into your hand where you’re gripping his shaft. 

“Sexy little thing.” Joel husks into your ear, biting the lob as you heave for air, slowly undulating your hips as you ride the last wave of your peak against his hand. “Good girl.” He praises, taking his hand away when you weakly push at his wrist. He lifts it in front of you, fingers webbed with your cum, runny and clear. You catch his hand, slipping his index and middle finger into your mouth, sucking them clean as he groans and ruts into the hand still around him, the cool palladium of his wedding ring bumps against your cupids bow as you suckle. 

You slip his fingers out of your mouth, letting them drag down your chin and back to your tits. “Fuck me.” You demand haughtily, eyeing him. 

“I’ll fuck you, baby.” He confirms, softer than you were expecting, he meets you for a kiss and you suck on the plumpness of his bottom lip before turning away. Joel slicks his hair back under the spray and then begins to trace out the curve of your waist and the fullness of your ass, you feel his hand bump you knuckle first where he fists himself to complete mast and then he runs the length of himself through your pussy, hissing at the wet heat that awaits him but he pauses, retracting back unsure. 

“You want me to wear a condom?” And you freeze, looking over your shoulder in distress. 

“Have you been with other people?” You frown, your heart suddenly sinking into your stomach, making your guts twist with nausea. Joel frowns down at you, blinking away the water clinging to his lashes. 

“Course not.” He answers, you relax. “…Have you?” Joel presses.

“Absolutely not.” You state firmly. “So get inside me.” You demand, turning away to place your hands on the tiles. You feel him press kisses to your shoulders as the tip of his cock brushes your ass again, you sigh and push back into him. “Please, baby.” You beg, feeling him smile into your skin. 

“I think you’re tryin’ to baby trap me.” Joel says playfully, pulling your hips against him so that your back arches just so. 

“You had a vasectomy after Ellie, idiot.” Your hips press insistently against him and you reach back to tug at his length, your fingers barely wrapping around the girth. “Now get your dick inside me, Joel.” You demand. 

“Yes, ma’am.” He leans down a fraction and slicks himself up, the entire length of him slipping against your pussy lips once more and nudging your clit. “Fuuuuck.” Joel groans when he does it again and the head of him catches on your hole, slipping inside just a fraction. 

“Oh my god.” You pant, your forehead dropping to rest against the cool tiled as he fills you completely. It’s a tight fit, after over three weeks of no sex with him your body is near to combustion.

You wonder if the lack of sex has attributed to the arguments, both working long hours at your respective jobs and not having the time for the normal intimacy you usually share. 

This is exactly what you’ve been wanting in the weeks you’ve been apart; a carnal desire to have your husband close. 

His grunt in your ear sets something off in you, the relief he feels directly felt by you. 

You whimper at the first thrust after he’s settled within your velvet lined canal, body pressed between him and the wall. 

It won’t ever be like this with anyone else, you think to yourself - the way Joel fits within you, around you and alongside you. 

“Like that.” You pant, pressing back. He grunts into your ear in such a manly way that you reach back to yank on his hair, he growls into your neck and fucks into you harder. 

He’s so strong it makes your head spin, this gorgeous man with a heart of gold that loved you when you were young, married you and gave you two babies, helped you create a comfortable life for your family. 

It’s overwhelming; that sensation of being full and enveloped within the heat of his radius. 

You’ve missed everything about him; his smell, his voice, the way he tastes. You’ve ached for the things you’ve harmlessly bickered about before, such as underwear outside of the hamper, smudges of toothpaste on the bathroom mirror after a deep clean, crumbs on the island. 

You don’t mean to let your emotions get the best of you but your eyes well and your throat tightens, your chest constricts something fierce. 

The sob that erupts out of your chest can’t be disguised by the noise of the water hitting the floor at your feet or the soft groans of Joel, not the breathless whines from yourself either. 

It’s a raw noise, jagged at the edges so much that it hurts leaving your throat. 

“Honey?” Immediately Joel has stopped moving and withdrawn, spinning you around to cup your cheeks. “Why are you cryin’?” He presses insistently, thumbs trying to swipe away your tears. Your cheeks are aflame, embarrassed to have spoilt such an intimate moment after so long. 

“I just - I just missed you.” You whimper, tucking your nose into his bicep. He cradles you to him softly beneath the spray, hushing you gently. This makes you cry more, thinking about how he’s held your babies like this; tenderly like they’re the most fragile  beings made entirely of glass. “Everything feels wrong! And… and…” You sniffle wetly. “And I can’t sleep properly without you and your dumb old man snoring!” 

“Oh, baby.” He chuckles into your hair. 

“I don’t like the whole limited contact stuff either.” You mumble. 

“Neither do I but it’s what was suggested and I think we need to try it, if we don’t like it then that’s a good sign.” He tries to pick your mood up, you pout and nod, leaning into his touch. 

“I’m scared we won’t fix this and I’ll have to watch you start dating someone else.” 

“I’m not gonna date anyone else, lady. I only want you, I’ve only ever wanted you.” He tells you. 

“That’s not true.” You hiccup. “Brandi Neil wanted you and you were going to go to Homecoming with her.” 

“Fuckin’ - that was literally over twenty somethin’ years ago and I went with you in the end!” He huffs indignantly. “Come on, let’s get dry and we can talk some more.” Joel guides you out of the shower with a gentle hand, turning off the water and handing you a towel. He leans over on more than one occasion to peck your lips, he smooths his thumbs beneath your eyes to wipe away the mascara that’s ran in the shower from the steam. 

Once you’re both relatively dry, there’s an awkward shift in the air as you’re both naked still and Joel looks very much aroused, half hard cock swaying as he moves. 

You saunter back to the bed, peering over your shoulder to see that you’ve captured his attention intently and he gulps as you climb onto the mattress, briefly resting on all fours for a split second, wet pussy drooling and exposed before turning onto your back. 

You stretch out against the sheets not dissimilar to a renaissance painting, skin dewy with a look on your face that Joel wants to savour. 

He climbs atop the mattress with you, pushing your thighs apart to settle between them. His warm mouth finds your nipples, sucking them and biting gently, you stretch and arch into him like a puppet on strings, the weight of your breasts fitting in each of his roughened palms. You feel the brush of his cock sway against your inner thigh and you buck against it, trying to encourage him closer, you huff when he ignores you in favour of worshiping your breasts. 

“Calm down.” He murmurs. “We’ll get there.” He promises in that deep baritone which makes your purr. Joel shimmies down your body, palm dragging along your sternum and settling on your stomach where your fingers find his in a desperate squeeze. 

The broadness of him fits between your thighs, one tossed over his shoulder to open you up. It’s erotic how he looks with his mouth on you, silver streaked hair visible and it’s not long before you’re clutching at it, writhing and moaning something pretty. 

He parts your labia and licks slowly, using only the tip of his tongue, flicking over your clit and coaxing it from beneath the hood, sucking it between his lips and running his tongue repeatedly over it as you gasp and pull his hair, he suckles and there’s a lewd slurp thrown in there. 

You purr like a kitten when his fingers enter you, moving steadily and brushing your G spot with such expertise that your eyes water. He knows what you like, having learnt your body and its responses for the better part of twenty years. A gush of slick aids the smooth movement of his ring and middle finger, stroking you from the inside until it proves too much to feel so far from him. 

“Up, Joel.” You whine, tugging his tresses with more force than necessary which causes him to bite your inner thigh in retaliation but he allows himself to be malleable at the hands of you, kneeling between your legs and wiping the slick of you from his moustache and beard. 

Rocking back onto his haunches, he fists his cock at the sight of you looking wrecked, that deep possessive part of him that’s smug because it’s him that makes you look like that; flushed and desperate. 

“I won’t last long, honey.” He warns as he gets into position, wrapping both legs around his waist. 

“Don’t care.” You state, reaching down to grab hold of him and guiding the blunt head of him through your lips, teasing yourself before you notch him just right. He eases himself in gentler than before in the shower, savouring that slow stretch as he feeds you himself until the wiry coarse hairs at the base are dampened by your wetness. 

He drops onto his forearms beside your head, caging you in as he begins to move, the pendant from his St Christopher bumps your chin. You make pretty noises, clawing at his back in a way that leaves diagonal lines in various shades of pink and red. Chests pressed together, heart to heart, a rhythmic beat perfectly in sync. 

“Tell me you love me.” You gasp.

Sitting up, Joel guides your leg over his shoulder, kissing your ankle bone, toying with the dainty gold anklet there that was an anniversary present some years ago. Your back arches against the sheets and you whimper sweetly at the new sensation of his hips fitting snuggly between your thighs and the weeping head of him nudging against the sponged wall of your cervix. 

“I love you.” He groans, hands grappling your hip bones, forcing you closer like he can’t get enough, he looms over you. “I love you so fuckin’ much.” 

“I love you.” You pant back. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” His nose nudges yours, lips hungrily searching to slot against yours, puffy and wet. “You remember night one of our honeymoon?” You press, exhaling hot and tone wanting. 

“Fuck yeah I do, fuck - “ His hips snap harder and you keen. “Pretty as a fuckin picture, still in your weddin’ dress on the floor.” 

“Fuck.” You sigh, fisting at his biceps with slippery fingers. “Barely made it through the motel door.” 

“You looked so fuckin good, honey. Havin’ my baby and ridin’ me on the floor.” His mouth slackens and his eyes slip closed, clearly deep in thought. 

“I wanna do it again, Joel.” You gasp, fingers shakily circling your clit, hard and slippery. 

“Yeah, baby. We’ll have another honeymoon, renew our vows first and everythin’.” He grunts. 

“Baby.” You whimper in his ear. “I’m cumming, fuck me harder.” You say it breathlessly and all his carnal instincts take over, he fucks you that hard the headboard slams into the wall and takes a layer of sage green paint off. You’re loud through your climax, hips jumping and blood rushing through every vein like accelerant and fire. 

“Jesus, I’m gonna cum. Fuck!” He groans, fingers moulding into the mattress, orgasm hitting so hard it makes the edges of his vision blacken. “Fuckin’ Christ.” You kiss his throat from your place beneath him, licking his jugular like the fucking minx you are, biting a tendon. 

The white of his teeth is blinding as his lip curls into a near snarl, the pulse of warmth as he orgasms spreads within you and you pant, flushed from head to toe. 

You kiss him as he grunts to completion, teeth clashing. 

“You’re so good - so good.” You murmur into his mouth, frantically pushing his hair from his damp forehead. “You’re perfect.” You hum, enraptured. 

“That’s you.” He smiles, lip curving against yours. “My pretty little wife.” 

He strokes your hair and traces your features, eyes searching yours for something; hope maybe and you smile gently at him, pulling him down beside you once he’s withdrawn from the warmth of your body. 

You rest against him, cheek to his chest to listen to the thrum below. You count his freckles and you trace his knuckles, you kiss his exposed skin over and over, you absorb as much of him as you can, feeling fulfilled for the first time in weeks. 

Joel quietly observes you, you lean up on your elbow, dragging your manicured nails down the centre of his chest, he watches you with his arm behind his head. You pause and lean down to rest your chin on his sternum, blinking with those fluttery lashes that cast a shadow high on your cheekbones. 

“Thank you for my flowers.” You say, he smiles softly and reaches down to stroke your cheek with his thumb. 

“You’re welcome.” He whispers. “Wanted to do somethin’ nice for you, Ellie messaged me and said you’d had a tough week at work before that dumb fucking argument we had.” His long fingers comb through your hair, you rest easily on his stomach now, letting your eyes slip shut. “Wanna talk about it, baby?” 

“Not really.” You huff. “I don’t want to unload my problems on you.” Joel sighs in exasperation at your vague answer. 

“You can tell me anythin’, you know that.” 

“We’re supposed to be taking time apart to stop the fighting, me unloading everything onto you isn’t going to help that.” You tell him. 

“I think communication is exactly what we need.” He disagrees. 

“You’re starting an argument now.” You chuckle with an eye roll, resting your cheek against his warm skin. He rolls his eyes back but doesn’t reply, continuing to stroke your hair, twirling some around his finger. “Joel?” You ask quietly. 

“Hmm?” 

“What if we can’t fix this?” 

“We can.” He replies determinedly. “Nearly twenty years together and two kids later, I’m still so in love with you, whether we’re fighting or not.” 

“I love you.” You murmur. 

“I love you more.” He replies. “And I love our girls.” Joel adds. 

“Me too.” You shift and snuggle into him, resting your head beneath his chin. 

He holds you quietly, his touch a major comfort. You think back over the almost month it’s been since the marriage counsellor had suggested Joel move out of the martial house for awhile and stay with his brother, just so you could see if distance would be beneficial after the amalgamation of late working nights, the stress of parenting two teenage girls and life itself along with naturally getting older, you already dancing that line of perimenopause. 

The space had made you realise you didn’t want to be without him and you’d both seemed to realise that you didn’t want to split up, you just needed to figure out a way to make things work. 

“I think we should trial the time apart for another week and keep seeing the counsellor for a few more months.” You begin. “I’m gonna figure something out at work and reduce my hours, no more bringing it home with me.” 

“That sounds good.” Joel murmurs, twisting a piece of your hair. “I’m goin’ to cut my days down to four, I think the finances will be fine and I want to be around here more for you and the girls.” He tells you, you nod slowly and blink away the tears that have suddenly come at the softness of his voice. 

“I don’t care if we have to give up any extra luxuries, I just need you and our kids here happy.” You emphasise. 

“That’s what I want too, baby. No more arguments over stupid shit, I’m sorry for bein’ so fuckin’ horrible lately.” 

“I was horrible too, Joel.” You say. “We just need to keep working on things and if we feel an argument brewing then we should take a step back and reassess what’s caused it and find a solution just like the therapist says.” You advise. “Also we should make time for a date night every week.” 

“Sounds good to me, baby.” Joel agrees, tugging you forward. “Kiss me, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” He murmurs sweetly and you go easily, moulding yourself over him to meet him for a deep kiss that speaks a thousand words and apologies. 

“Hey.” You say suddenly, eyes flitting over to the vanity where multiple photo frames sit. “You remember that trip we took to Seattle when the kids were little?” Joel follows your line of sight where they’re focused on one of the smaller frames holding two polaroids, one of Sarah and Ellie when they were eight and four, then another you’d taken of Joel on the pier with the wheel behind him you’d taken. 

“Yeah.” He says fondly. “That was a great trip, the kids loved it.” 

“What was that girl called that Ellie made friends with at the aquarium?” You smile as you think of a rambunctious Ellie, stomping around holding her Daddy’s hand in her tiny overalls, pointing at every fish she saw swimming ahead in the glass tunnels. 

“Oh er… fuck. What was it? Little blonde girl with a braid.” He recites, thinking back almost a decade. “Abby!” He suddenly exclaims and you hum, nodding. 

“That was it, they were so cute together watching the sea lion show, remember how jealous Sarah was that she thought all Ellie’s love was being stolen away.” You giggle, nuzzling his shoulder. “We should go again now they’re grown up.” 

There’s a comfortable silence as you bask in the evening sun coming through the window behind the bed, coating you in warmth while you lazily make out with your husband like you used to as teenagers in his beat up truck. 

You moan into his mouth when a hand sneakily skims your back and moulds to the fleshiest part of your backside. Sitting back to take a breath, you begin to kiss at his stubbled jaw, focusing intently on the grey patches and working yourself down his throat, to his clavicle and down his chest where he has yours, Sarah’s and Ellie’s name tattooed over his heart. 

He props himself up in interest on his elbows when you make it to his sternum, nipping near his navel and dragging your nails through the smattering of hair below it until you reach his groin. 

“You think you can go again?” You smirk at him, nipping his hip, sucking a small bruise into the skin above his pubic area.

“Keep doin’ that and I’ll be rarin’ to go.” He huffs, cradling the back of your head when you lick above his pubic area.

You move lower and his cock begins to swell against his thigh, his thighs tense when your hot breath drifts over his length. 

Just as you’re about to drag your tongue over the flushed head of him, you hear a car skim across the gravel driveway and you both freeze. 

“Shit, that’s the kids.” You panic, sitting up and swinging your legs off the bed to gather up something to wear. “Quick!” You urge Joel who looks equally as panicked as he yanks up his boxers. You find a long floral dress to throw on from the corner and manage to yank up the panties you were wearing earlier, the crotch becomes sodden with the semen but you ignore the uncomfortable wet feeling and try to fan away the flush on your cheeks as you watch your husband get dressed. 

You’re both barrelling down the stairs just as the front door opens and you bump into Joel as you skid on foyer tiles, he steadies you as your kids stare back. 

You and Joel try to act casual despite the feral things you’ve just done.

“You’re back early.” You squeak, very aware of your damp hair and smudged makeup. 

It’s a mere second before your daughter’s come barrelling full force towards the apple of their eyes, pregnancy and labour be damned. 

“Dad!” The girls squeal in unison, rushing to hug him. He wraps an arm around each of them, eyes slipping shut with contentment. 

“Hi, my girls.” He sighs happily, nosing Ellie’s hairline and then Sarah’s. 

“Missed you.” You hear Ellie tell him. 

“Hi, mom.” You mock unseriously, crossing your arms. 

“Hey, mom.” Ellie mocks devilishly, tilting her head back with the same teasing look her father possesses more often than not. She’s her father’s daughter, a carbon copy of him whereas Sarah is more like you. 

“You have a good afternoon?” You ask when Sarah meanders her way into your orbit, wrapping her arms around your waist. She nods against you and you tuck some hair out of her face, she nuzzles into you. 

“The movie was packed so we got frozen yoghurt and walked around Target instead, we got you some candy.” She says sweetly, rubbing her cheek into your collar whilst Ellie is resting her chin against Joel’s chest with her arms wound around his waist, whispering something that makes him chuckle and sway her from side to side tenderly. 

She stares up at him like he’s hung the stars and the moon just for you, you’re certain she’d crawl into his rib cage and stay there if she could and you don’t blame her.

“Thank you, sweet girls.” You beam. “Hey, are you both in for dinner tonight?” You suddenly wonder. 

“Yes, sir.” Ellie replies. 

“I’ve got no plans.” Sarah shrugs. 

“How about we Doordash something? Could eat it on the patio?” You suggest and Ellie cheers, Joel chuckles into her hair. 

“Even Dad?” Sarah hesitates as she asks, looking at you hopefully. Your heart breaks, Joel staying away had some serious effects in the first week even though they knew you weren’t going through a divorce and trying to fix things. Ellie acted out at school and Sarah shut herself away, both missing their father’s presence at home even though they saw him most days after school and on weekends if they weren’t out with friends. 

You’d never stopped them seeing him and wouldn’t dare to even if things were irreparable between you. 

“Of course.” You answer Sarah, Ellie looks between you and Joel curiously, her eyes narrow when she sees him smiling softly at you and clocks you blushing. 

“Whatcha both been doing?” Ellie asks slyly. 

“Hanging out, your Dad fixed the shelf for me.” You tell her nonchalantly over Sarah’s head. “So uh.. which one of you ratted on me for breaking it?” 

“Dunno what you’re talking about, man.” Ellie sniffs, you tug the end of her ponytail.

“Mmm.” You murmur, unconvinced. “Go get changed into something comfy and have a think about what you fancy for dinner.” You order, nodding towards the stairs. 

“Race ya!” Ellie bellows suddenly, pushing Sarah into you to get a head start. 

“Hey!” Her older sister shouts, barrelling after her while you sigh and head towards the kitchen, the peace and quiet officially gone. 

Joel gives you a flirtatious look and your heart jumps, your chest warms as do your cheeks. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” You demand, pushing his face away in the opposite direction. He chuckles and grabs your wrist, using it as leverage to pull you to him.  

“What? Like I want to eat you?” He murmurs lowly, you hum affirmatively. “Maybe I do.” 

“That could be arranged.” You whisper, he takes you back into his arms, walking with you until you hit the edge of the kitchen island. You pull him into a kiss, dragging your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck. 

He growls lowly and hoists you up onto the surface, stepping between your legs, running his hands up and down your parted thighs. 

“The kids are listenin’ to us.” Joel whispers into your ear when he pulls away, nodding outside of the kitchen entryway where you realise you didn’t hear them run all the way to the top of the stairs. 

“No, we’re not!” Sarah has the audacity to yell with offence, you giggle into Joel’s t-shirt.

“Get changed before I make your Dad cook his famous spaghetti surprise dinner tonight instead of getting take out!” You holler back. 

“That was one time.” Joel complains under his breath. 

“Make us a sister.” Ellie shouts from halfway upstairs. 

“No chance! Dad got snipped after you anyway, he said you were more than enough trouble and you were barely out the womb!” You shout back, cackling when you hear both her and Sarah gag fiercely. 

“It’s true!” Joel adds. “I had frozen peas on my crotch for days!”

“Gross!” They both exclaim. 

That night, you sit on the patio furniture, with your husband and children, your feet cradled in his lap with glasses of wine and takeout with quiet music playing from Alexa, giggling and telling them stories of your teenage years and some of a time they’re too young to remember, planning a trip to Seattle they’re ecstatic over. 

You’re certain that everything will be okay. 

Hell yes I’d be interested in seeing more of them!

There is so much to explore here with her screams being the reason Joel flinched, seeing how they survive before landing in the Boston QZ, etc. oh the possibilities are endless! 😍😍

Flinched

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: The day after Sarah died, he flinched.

Warnings: angst, depression, suicidal thoughts and attempt (Joel), language, descriptions of injuries, killing some infected but nothing very descriptive

WC: 3.2K

dividers by @saradika-graphics

His chest hurt.

He could barely breathe.

What would be the point?

Even from his spot on Tommy's couch, collapsed in on himself with his daughter's blood dried on his arms and hands, he could hear it. He could hear the screams coming from outside, the snarling from whatever the fuck friends and neighbors had turned into, hopeless gunshots bursting into the night, but none of it mattered. Not anymore.

Because Sarah was dead. He failed her. He had one fucking job to do in this life and he failed.

"We'll bury her first thing in the mornin'."

Joel practically jumped out of his skin, heart lodging itself in his throat when he heard his brother's voice behind him.

"Where is she?" he whispered, tilting his head to the side. They kept all the lights off in the house so Tommy wouldn't be able to see his tear soaked face anyway, but still, Joel refused to look at him.

"In the spare bedroom. I couldn't-" Tommy choked up and took a deep breath, eyes fixing on the floor before trying again. "Couldn't leave her in the garage. It just... didn't feel right."

Joel nodded and twisted back around to stare blankly at the dark television.

He made his decision. Amongst the terror and the pain and the world crumbling down around them, Joel knew what he had to do.

Tomorrow, after they buried his little girl, he was going to join her.

"Did'ya wanna say a prayer or... somethin'?" Tommy asked, wiping the sweat from his brow and leaning on his shovel. Joel continued to tamp down the loose dirt. He had to make it perfect. If he couldn't save her, the very least he could do was make her final resting place perfect.

"No," he said coldly. Joel dropped the shovel and limped over to the wheelbarrow to sift through the river rocks he collected that afternoon. He meticulously picked each one, some for their color, some for their shape and some for how smooth they felt under his calloused fingers.

Slowly, he stacked the rocks at the head of her grave. When he didn't like something or if a rock tumbled, he started over. Shifting and replacing and fixing each rock just so until he stepped back and felt it looked suitable enough for his little girl.

Finally, when there was nothing else to do, Joel took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Now that the living had either fled or turned and wandered off, the neighborhood was quiet. Almost peaceful, if he didn't know any better. But he did.

He opened his eyes and looked back down at the fresh dirt. She was right there. So close, yet so far. Soon.

Tommy eyed him carefully. He knew Joel had to grieve in his own way, but he was unusually calm. He expected anger or even blame. Maybe he was in shock.

"We should think 'bout leavin'," Tommy said hesitantly. "'Bout where we should go. Maybe up north is better." He expected his brother to fight back, for him to shout and scream he would never leave Sarah, but Joel simply nodded and picked up his shovel.

"Wherever you want."

Soon.

He waited until Tommy went to bed. Then he waited a little more. He sat on Tommy's back steps, staring at Sarah's grave just five feet away. His elbows rested on his knees, he flipped the handgun they had pulled from the solider back and forth in his hands.

And he just... stared.

He thought of his happiest memories. When Sarah was first born, when she took her first steps, when she first said dada. He remembered fondly when he took her camping for the first time and roasted marshmallows. He remembered taking her to her first school dance in a pretty yellow dress she picked out that was way too expensive but he didn't dare say a word. When he thought about the conversations they had about her future, where she wanted to go to college, what degrees she was curious about, his chest both warmed and ached with pain.

He picked one memory. It wasn't even his favorite, just one when he remembered being truly and utterly happy. He thought about the smile on his little girl's face, he thought about her beautiful laugh and the way her tiny arms felt around his torso and he closed his eyes, exhaling heavily and slowly bringing the gun to his temple.

He was ready. He wasn't scared. He could see her eyes, replicas of his own, and he smiled when his finger grazed the trigger.

A sharp scream filled the quiet night air, his gun going off half a second later.

His eyes snapped open, a searing hot pain radiating on the side of his head caused his hand to instantly fly up. Something sticky coated his fingertips and he slowly dropped his hand, staring in shock at the dark red blood that slid down his fingers.

Joel heard Tommy's heavy footsteps running from inside the house. Then the door flung open behind him. Joel continued to sit on the bottom step, gun abandoned on the ground and still staring in disbelief at his bloody hand.

"What the fuck, Joel?" Tommy gasped, stumbling halfway down the rickety wooden steps. "What did you do?"

It was a good question. What did he do? He knew what he wanted to do, so why didn't he fucking do it?

Then another scream echoed across the lawn, this time a little muffled, like it was coming from inside a nearby home. Both brothers looked up and scanned the dark yard, then Tommy jumped down the rest of the stairs and snatched the gun from the grass before racing across the lawn to the house next door.

"Wait!" Joel yelled, scrambling to follow his brother, completely unarmed except for a menacing looking knife he also stole from the body of the solider. It was only fitting he steal from him after he stole everything from Joel.

He followed Tommy into the practically pitch black house, stumbling and tripping over tossed furniture to catch up. To his surprise, he rounded a corner and ran smack dab into Tommy's back.

"I can't hear it, shh," he said, finger to his lips, pistol pointing to the ground.

"Hear what?" Joel asked angrily. Tommy glared at him over his shoulder.

"Someone needs help."

"Not our fuckin' problem," he seethed, then they heard the scream again. It was coming from upstairs.

Tommy took the steps two at a time and Joel reluctantly trailed behind. After kicking in one door and finding the room empty, Tommy finally found the source of the screaming in the master bedroom.

You were pinned to the floor by one of those... monsters. Arm outstretched above your head, desperately trying to reach for the fireplace poker that was a good foot away while your other arm held that thing by the throat above you. But you were growing tired. They could both see the violent shake in your arm and the pure terror in your eye as you realized it was your final moment on earth.

Tommy raised the gun and took aim, only to be knocked down by another one who had previously looked like a dead body in the corner of the room. And it probably was, when they first stepped in, but had reanimated and came back to life while they hesitated for that brief second.

He rolled over and punched the creature across the jaw, sending it stumbling backwards and giving Tommy a moment to reach for his gun. Joel took one step towards him, thinking he couldn't possibly lose the only other person he had left in this world, when you screamed again. Out of the corner of his eye he saw your arm collapse and now you were holding the monster up by your elbow, its teeth gnashing and snapping inches from your throat.

Tommy swung the pistol around and got a round off, clipping the second creature in the shoulder before steadying his aim and getting it square in the head.

"Joel! Help her!" Tommy yelled from the floor over the screams from both you and the infected.

Fuck.

He yanked the tactical knife from his waist and lunged forward, grabbing the infected by the shoulder just as your arm gave out. He lodged the blade into the side of its head with a grunt and the room fell silent.

Joel let the body slump to the floor at his feet before locking eyes with you for the first time. Your chest was heaving, skin coated in sweat, some blood and god knows what else.

"T-thank you," you whimpered. Joel sized you up quickly, determining almost instantly that you wouldn't last long in this world. You weren't built for it. It's been two days and you were still wearing pajamas and a pair of tennis shoes, for Christ's sake.

"That all you got? A poker?" Joel asked gruffly as he watched you sit up weakly, picking it up with shaky hands.

"Yeah," you replied softly, clutching it against your chest with your back to the wall. Tommy finally stood and brushed himself off before squinting at you in the darkness.

"Ain't you the Potter's girl?"

You shook your head, then nodded, like you couldn't make up your mind.

"I'm not related to them. I'm a visiting nurse. I check in on them once a week, do a few errands for them, pick up their medication. Stuff like that."

"Visiting nurses run errands for people?" Joel asked with an edge to his voice. Your eyes slid back over to him, gaze lingering a moment on his bloody cheek and you shook your head again.

"Not supposed to but they don't have anyone else. They're too frail to make it to the store, so I help them out when I can." You paused and swallowed the lump in your throat before dropping your gaze and adding, "well, I did."

The room fell silent again, nobody sure where to go from there. Tommy tried to catch Joel's eye so he could wordlessly ask to take you in, but he avoided it. You cleared your throat and pointed to the gash on Joel's cheek.

"Do you want me to take a look at that?"

"No," Joel spat, then turned on his heel to stalk out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Tommy looked at you with pity, his kind nature still alive and well while his brother's seemed to die along with Sarah.

"Lemme try 'n talk to him."

You shook your head and pushed yourself to your feet. "No, it's alright. I'll be fine."

"You got any people?"

You shook your head again. "No. That's kind of part of the gig. We... travel wherever there's a need. My contract in Texas is supposed to end next month."

Tommy sighed and looked through the door towards the stairs. "You ain't gonna make it on your own."

"I'll manage," you said sternly. "I'm tougher than I look. I've dealt with a lot of nasty patients. Ones that have tried to hurt me, even."

"This is different," Tommy said gently, gesturing towards the two dead bodies in the room.

You bit your lip and followed his gaze. "Yeah, suppose it is."

He thought about it for a minute, navigating the complexity of what it would entail to have you join them, then nodded and holstered his gun.

"Here's the deal," he began. "Look through the clothes here. Find somethin' that'll fit you. Find some boots if you can. Jeans. Find clothes that'll layer. I got other stuff next door but I don't got girl's clothes."

You looked nervously around the room. The idea of going with these two strange men didn't exactly thrill you, but he was right. You couldn't make it all on your own.

"Okay."

He took a deep breath and stuck out his hand. "I'm Tommy. That was my brother, Joel," he said shaking your hand when you gave him your name. "We're good people. We'll look out for you."

"Just out of the kindness of your hearts, huh?"

Tommy dropped your hand and shrugged with a little smile. "You said you're a nurse. I reckon you'll be pullin' your own weight."

Well, he had a point there.

You got to work going through the closet and dresser of the house you had broken into earlier when a couple infected had heard you over at the Potter's house and chased you down the street. You were determined to work fast, just in case the men downstairs changed their minds and left you to fend for yourself. You weren't lying - you were capable, but you knew there was strength in numbers, and you had to sleep sometime.

"Tommy, no," Joel said firmly from his place against the kitchen counter. "We ain't takin' in strays."

"This ain't a dictatorship, Joel," Tommy whispered for your benefit. "You don't get the final say here. 'Sides, from the look of your goddamn face you were 'bout to check out an hour ago."

The brothers stared at one another silently, each one brewing in their respective anger before speaking again.

"She's a nurse," Tommy said, trying to soften his tone. "She'd be good to have 'round. She's all by herself, ain't got no family in Texas. She'll die out there all alone."

Joel swallowed and crossed his arms defensively over his chest, allowing his gaze to fall to the floor while he thought things over.

"Fine," he grumbled under his breath.

"Thank you," you said from the entrance of the kitchen, startling them both.

"Just better keep up," Joel said sternly before pushing himself off the counter, heading for the back door that led to Tommy's yard.

Tommy turned to appraise you with a nod. "Found some good stuff?"

You looked down at your outfit. The jeans were a little big, but the shirts and boots fit well enough.

"Yeah."

"Alright. Let's try 'n get some shut eye at my place. In the mornin', we'll come up with a plan."

You nodded and dutifully followed behind him, across both yards. You glanced at the fresh patch of dirt in his yard adorned with a tower of smooth rocks and quickly averted your gaze.

"You can sleep in the living room," Tommy said, gesturing towards the dark room past his kitchen. "My room's right down the hall. Bathroom, too."

You each glanced down the short hallway to see the bathroom door open, a soft glow from the overhead light pouring out into the hall. Tommy glanced around to make sure the curtains were still shut tight before pointing to the two couches, one a two seater, one a three.

"Joel's sleepin' out here too," he said quietly, "that alright? We got a spare room but-" he cut himself off and cleared his throat, giving himself a moment before speaking again. "Can't use that room. I'll, uh, explain 'nother time. Lemme get you some blankets."

He strolled down the hall and disappeared into his bedroom, leaving you standing at the junction between the hall and living room, unsure what to do. You wrapped your arms around yourself protectively and looked around, but then you heard a hiss coming from the bathroom followed by a curse.

You took the few steps towards the bathroom and glanced inside. Joel did leave the door open, after all. If he needed privacy he easily could have gotten it.

Joel was dabbing his cut with a soaked washcloth, squinting into the mirror while he did his best to clean it.

"Let me help you."

His eyes found yours in the mirror and you held his gaze for a long moment. He scanned your face silently with the washcloth still pressed to his cheek before he sighed and dropped it in the sink.

When he sat down on the closed toilet and looked at you expectantly, you took that to mean he was taking you up on your offer, so you stepped inside the room and got to work reviewing all the first aid supplies you had at your disposal.

After you gathered what you needed to clean the wound properly, you stood before him to get a better look at his cheek.

"Gunshot wound," you murmured as you began to clean it gentle with antiseptic.

"Yeah."

You frowned when you noticed the burnt skin close to his ear. Either someone had the muzzle pressed against his head, or...

You cleared your throat and changed the subject, falling back on your years of medical training and practice with bedside manner.

"What do you do, Joel?"

"I'm a contractor," he said, his eyes staring a hole in the side of your head while you worked.

"That sounds nice. Get to work outside. You probably don't have to worry about cardio, I'm sure a job like that keeps you moving."

He hummed in agreement and you got the impression he didn't want to talk anymore, so you fell quiet. As you were fixing his wound with butterfly bandages, Joel surprised you by speaking again.

"Kills my back, though."

You blinked and let your eyes shift to his briefly before focusing back on his cheek.

"I imagine it does," you said. He continued to watch you and when you were finishing up, he asked, "How long've you been a nurse?"

You crumpled up the garbage from the bandages and cotton balls, tossing them into the trash before straightening up.

"Uh, almost eight years, I think?" you said, then after giving it a moment, nodded. "Yeah. Eight years this December."

"You're good at it," Joel said when he stood to examine your work in the mirror. Then, surprising you again, said, "thank you."

"You're welcome."

Tommy appeared in the doorway with a pillow and spare blanket, already changed for the night into more comfortable clothes.

"I'll toss this stuff onto the smaller couch," he told you, then eyed up Joel's cheek. "Looks good," he said, pointing to his face before disappearing down the hall.

"I have a better kit over at the Potter's," you told Joel. "Maybe before we leave, I can go grab it. I'm sure we'll need it. There's stuff in there you can't just pick up anywhere."

"Yeah, alright," he replied, then gestured toward the door. You wandered back down the hallway and into the living room where Tommy had just set down your bedding.

"If you're hungry, help yourself to anythin' you can find. Guessin' it'll all go to waste soon."

"Thank you," you said with a smile. Tommy returned it and headed back down the hall to his bedroom, but not before wishing Joel good night with a clap on his shoulder as he walked by.

You were hungry but your stomach was churning so badly from the days events that you didn't dare try to keep anything down just yet, so instead you flicked out the blanket and settled underneath it with a deep sigh.

Joel watched you from the side of his eye while he fixed up his own makeshift bed on the other couch. After he slipped underneath the blanket, he stared up at the ceiling, listening to your breathing grow heavier and slower until he was sure you were asleep.

He should have been dead. That bullet shouldn't have missed. He should be mad at you for causing him to flinch, but somehow... he wasn't.

He couldn't save Sarah, but he saved you.

A/N: I'm toying with the idea of writing more if there's any interest but I'm not sure I can commit to another series just yet, however I'm feeling the itch to write post outbreak again. But let me know what you think ❤️

Please follow @punkshort-notifs and turn on notifications for fic updates ❤️

Joel could teach me a thing or two about baseball if that’s what it leads to!

Im a great student! 🫠🫠🫠🫠

Teach Me How To Play Coach Miller

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Pairing: Austin Joel Miller x Female Reader Word Count: 3,275 Summary: You're home alone, relishing a lazy day when your hot neighbor knocks on your door. Seems his TV is out and he really wants to watch the Rangers game. You know nothing about baseball... maybe he can teach you a thing or two? Warnings: smut, porn with very little plot, age gap (reader's college aged, Joel's in his 30's), oral (f & m receiving), unprotected p in v, riding, baseball terms, Joel's a filthy liar but it benefits all of us, mentions of voyeurism and masturbation, big balls Joel Miller in gray sweatpants, no use of y/n, not beta read.

It’s another famous hot September afternoon in Texas. Too damn hot to do anything besides walk outside, roll your eyes at the sweltering temperature, turn around and walk back inside. The thick humidity and overbearing heat makes your skin slick and clothing stick in all the wrong places– or maybe the right places– it depends on who’s looking. 

A ring of the doorbell interrupts your lazy day movie marathon. The house is yours for the weekend, your roommates are all gone for a festival and your coursework is all done, so naturally you’re laid on the couch taking a reprieve from the overbearing temperature.

Another ring.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” you grumble. 

You open the door, your knees buckling at your bad luck.

GOD DAMNIT. OF COURSE IT’S JOEL MILLER. *THE* JOEL MILLER. The hot DILF you and your roomies all lust after. The broad, golden skinned GOD of a man that you all argue over who’s going to get to bed one day. 

“Joel? H-hey,” you say, attempting to hide your embarrassment over how you look. It’s 4 PM and you’re still wearing what you woke up in… an oversized Rangers shirt of your ex-boyfriend’s over a pair of lace boyshorts… it’s too freakin’ hot for actual clothes. 

“Afternoon–uh–so my cable box just stopped working and it’s the clenching game for the playoffs,” he nervously huffs, putting a hand to the back of his neck. “I know it’s crazy to ask, but can I watch the game on your TV?” He lifts a six pack of beer enticingly, “I brought this as payment.”

“Oh,” your eyes widen in surprise. Joel Miller… on your couch? Yes! Joel Miller on your couch! You open the door wider and step aside to let him in. “Of course, make yourself at home.” 

He walks into your house… this is a dream come true, he’s in GRAY SWEATPANTS and they hug his thick body perfectly. 

You take a precursory look around your living room, silently thanking yourself for picking up the house yesterday. Now the hunk of a neighbor you’ve touched yourself to while watching him mow his lawn is closer to you than he’s ever been.

You quickly stroll over to the coffee table, picking up the remote and handing it to him. 

“Thanks for this, appreciate it sweetheart,” Joel says, sitting on the couch, taking up a whole cushion with his broad body. 

Ohhhh, sweetheart. His eyes darken at the sight of your breath hitching, before his eyes gaze lowers to your bare legs. 

“Yeah, o-of course,” you nod, feeling very underdressed with your handsome neighbor taking a seat on the couch you were just laid out on a few minutes ago. “I’ll go get an opener.”

Joel turns the game on and settles his back against the couch cushions, “Thanks sweetheart.” 

__

The ceiling fan chains clang against one another, it only does this on high, it drives you crazy but the soft breeze it sends down is worth the annoyance. Your skin’s too overheated sitting only a couch cushion’s length away from Joel. Your foot nervously taps against the carpet while you try to focus on the book you’re reading. You’re overwhelmed by his presence, hearing his lips form around the beer bottle and taking a swig, the movement of his body against the couch cushions, the smell of wood and coffee he’s brought into the house. You sigh, turning your attention to the game, maybe today’s the day you’ll learn about America’s pastime. 

“Why is it called a shortstop? Do they have to be short?” You ask putting your book down. 

“No,” Joel chuckles, “s’just what the position is called.” 

“Ah, and every team has one?”

“Yes,” he shakes his head, “what exactly do you know about this game, sweetheart?”

“Um, I know I like their tight pants.” 

“Oh really?” Joel looks over at you, crooking his eyebrow up. 

“Yep, and the guy throwing the ball is really tall and cute.”

“That’s called a pitcher sweetheart,” he shakes his head at your ignorance.

“And he throws to the…” your finger taps your cheek while you mock contemplation, “catcher?” 

“That’s right,” he nods, his voice dropping an octave. “What else do you know?”

“I know there’s bases and home runs, adorable mascots and Cracker Jacks.”  

“What bases?”

“Hmm. First base, second base, third base, and home.”

“Good girl,” he grins, “you’re a smart girl.”

“I know I am,” you smugly smile at him. “First base is kissing. Second base is above the waist, third base is bel—“

Joel’s laugh cuts you off. “Is that right? Seems you know all about baseball, you’ve… ‘played baseball’ before?” 

“Mm,” you lean towards him, “I like playing baseball… I just haven’t in a few months… you know besides practicing with myself.”

He shakes his head, a devilish smirk lights his face as he angles his body towards you. “You practice a lot?”

“Yeah, especially when my hot neighbor is outside mowing his lawn and he gets all sweaty. My bedroom window looks right out on his lawn.” Joel’s eyes widen at the realization that you’re talking about him. “Sometimes he lifts the hem of his shirt and wipes his brow, I get to see a peek of his stomach, it’s super hot.”

“Funny,” he puts his beer bottle down and licks his lips. “I have a hot neighbor too. I’ve, uh, ‘practiced’ before while thinking about how good she looks running in her tight shorts and tiny tank top.” 

Your core begins to pulse at his words, desire lights inside your body. Joel Miller has noticed you *and* gets off to the thought of you?! And now, he’s on your couch, sending you a lascivious look. Let’s ball. 

“Can I play?” you ask, head tilted with a smirk before scooting closer to him.

“Yeah?” his eyebrows crook up. “You want to play with an old man like me?” 

You nod. “Put me in coach.”

“Batter up baby,” he growls, grabbing and lifting you to straddle his lap. You’re thankful for your measly lace panties, less layers between you and Joel’s dick. “You wanna show me first base?”

You gulp, pouty lips agape begging to be kissed by Joel Miller. “First base,” you nuzzle your nose against his, “is kissing.”

“Mm,” he nips at your bottom lip, “then kiss me, pretty girl.”

You pull away, angling your head to look at the TV. “But what about the game?”

“They’re losing by four,” he grabs your chin, turning your head back towards him. “Plus, I don’t think it’s possible to care about the game when a pretty girl like you is on my lap.”

Leaning forward, you plant a soft kiss and suck his plush bottom lip into your mouth. Your heart flutters inside your chest when his mouth opens inviting you to lick into it as he lifts the hem of your shirt. 

You swipe his hand away, “Not at second base yet.”

“Fuck,” he pants. “Been wanting to see you since you moved in last year.”

His confession rolls through your body, sending waves of want through your limbs. You want to rock your hips against him, you want to feel your bare skin against his, you want to feel him inside you, but you also love the game you’re playing and it’s not just every day your hot neighbor comes over to watch a ballgame and winds up with his tongue in your mouth.  

You deepen the kiss, moaning against his lips as your tongues collide and explore each other’s mouths. Raucous shouting of the announcers on the TV interrupts your makeout session.

“Mmph, will you look at that? Rangers just hit a grand slam ’n tied the game. You wanna celebrate now?” Joel grabs the hem of your shirt and angles his eyebrow up.

“Show me second base Joel.”

Your shirt is lifted and tossed aside, your nipples pebble under the cool fan air and Joel’s attention. He stares, eyes wide in astonishment as he takes your bare chest in. 

“Second base is above the waist stuff,” you direct. His large, calloused hands mold around the weight of your flesh. 

“Mm, knew you’d be soft,” he rasps in awe. His touch drives you crazy, just an hour ago, you were dozing off on the couch to Romy & Michelle’s High School Reunion, now Joel Miller is holding your tits in his hands. He rubs the tips of his thumbs back and forth across your nipples. “Can I use my mouth on you baby?” he asks, his gaze moving from your chest to your eyes pleadingly. 

“God yes,” you pant, rising up to bring your chest to his mouth. He clasps his lips around your nipple, sucking and pulling, swirling his tongue around the peak before letting it go with a pop. Your back arches, your weight settling firmer against him when he nips his way across your chest, taking your other breast into his mouth and suckling. Your hands snake underneath his shirt and run across the plush of his stomach petting your hands across the smattering of hair across his belly. 

Joel buries his face between your breasts, breathing you in and groaning against your skin, his hands grab your hips and push your body firmer against his half hard cock still clad in his sweatpants.

He’s fully dressed, your teensy pair of lace panties do very little to stop your cunt from dripping onto the light gray fabric of his sweatpants. Your hips begin to grind against the shape of him, begging for contact. He ruts his hips up to tap against your core pulling a moan from you. 

He snickers teasingly, “We goin’ to third base already baby?”

You whimper a measly yes, rocking yourself harder against him. Fuck the pace of game, it’s going to be a quick one. You’re so needy for him, you can’t believe this is happening with Joel “hot dad” Miller. Your roommates are never going to believe you. 

You reach for the hem of his shirt, bunching it up before he chucks it off and throws it across the couch. You lean back, eyes widening at the sight of him. Good LORD, he’s perfect. His skin glows in the late afternoon light beaming in from the front window. His shoulders and arms are toned from all of the manual labor you always watch him accomplish. Your hands roam his soft muscles, exploring the plains of his body. He’s the whole fucking package. He looks at you with a smug smirk while you take him in. 

You want to taste him and see if he tastes like the sweat and sunlight. Your lips find his collarbone, licking and sucking, tasting the slight salt of the sweat the heat leaves on everybody’s skin on days like today. Delectable.

His throat groans against your tongue, he shivers underneath you, you’ve never wanted someone so badly before. 

“Fuck me,” you plead against his skin, “please.”

“Not yet, not yet baby, we’re still at third, you’re still learning all about baseball. I need to enjoy a game as sweet as you,” he implores, sliding a hand between your legs and petting your soaked panties. “This all for me?” 

“Yesss,” you hiss, licking your way up through his scratchy beard to his mouth. 

You gasp against his lips when he slides a thick finger inside. He chuckles a deep breath against your mouth, “So fucking wet aren’t you pretty girl?” 

Your only answer is a garbled moan and a clench around his second finger that stretches you. 

His fingers languidly fuck you while his thumb teases soft circles against your clit, you’re writhing from his touch, breathing mews into the air. He licks into your mouth swallowing every shattered breath that escapes from your throat. So many nights you’ve fallen asleep to the thought of this moment laying alone in your bed, gazing out the window at the Miller household. What would Joel Miller’s overworked hands and plush mouth feel like against your body? Well, now you know, and it feels even better than you could have ever imagined.  

He licks his way down to your neck, asking “Can I taste you?” against your skin. 

“Yes,” you cry out. 

Joel lifts you with a grunt and lays you down against the couch cushions. He stands over you, running a hand across your body, mapping his way from your breasts down your stomach to the trim of your panties.

“You’re gorgeous,” he muses, his eyes turning black as he pulls your panties down, exposing your pussy to him. You spread your legs open encouraged by the possessiveness of his stare. He tosses your underwear behind him before settling on the couch between your legs with a deep growl. Your legs are lifted over his shoulders. “Fuck,” he sighs, planting a kiss against your thigh, “you’re so fucking hot. Let’s get to third base sweetheart.”

His eyes flutter shut at the first taste of you when he parts your folds with his tongue. Everything about Joel Miller is wide- his fingers, his shoulders, his chest. Right now, his wide tongue is driving you crazy as it swirls against your clit. He devours you, licking and laving all over your drooling pussy, drinking you down and savoring you like you’re his last meal. His eyes stay on your face the whole time, watching you fall apart against his mouth. Your fingers wrap around the dark waves of his hair pulling him in closer, hips undulating against his mouth getting yourself off on the feel of the bristle of his beard against your sensitive flesh. His tongue flattens and runs up and down the shape of you before he dips two fingers into your entrance and buries them knuckles deep. Your back curves at the overwhelming sensation of his tongue on your clit as your soaked walls clench around his thick fingers. 

“Mm, close,” you whimper while your feet thud repeatedly against his strong back. He nods against your core, dark brown eyes still focused on your face. Your heart races at the way he watches you under his thick eyebrows creased in concentration. Of course Joel Miller is good at eating pussy, he’s a hard worker. You wail his name out when you orgasm against his mouth, your body tightens as you flood his fingers and throb for him. He kisses your swollen clit gently, letting a deep moan and chuckle out while you spasm underneath him. 

Joel’s face glistens with you when he lifts his head up, “Welcome to third base.” 

“You haven’t gotten here yet,” you arch an eyebrow and lick your parted lips, still panting for air.

He kisses each thigh with a loud smack before getting up. 

He looms over your blissed out body on the couch and yanks down his pants and boxers, a gulp rolls down your throat at the sight of him. So fucking thick and engorged with a sweet drop of precum rolling down his shaft.

“Wow,” you gasp, rolling to your side to bring yourself eye level to his twitching cock. Your eyebrows rise in awe when he wraps his hand around himself and strokes.

“Yeah?” his voice smolders through you. 

“I’ve thought about what you looked like naked, and now that I see it… wow.” You can’t believe the confession just left your mouth.

“Funny,” he collects a drop of precum on his fingertip and rubs it against your bottom lip,” I thought the same thing.”

Your tongue darts out to taste him, salty, bitter, so fucking manly. You want to taste more of him. 

You bring your lips to the crown of his cock, kissing the tip and running your tongue along the length of his shaft. He gasps, leaning forward to rest his hands on the sofa back. 

“Fuck sweetheart, that’s good,” he drawls when you suck him into your mouth engulfing the thick length of him in the wet heat of your mouth. 

You cup the heft of his balls in your hand… thick cock, big balls, of course Joel Miller has big balls. 

“You’re good at this sweetheart, really fucking good,” he huffs, rubbing his thumb against your cheek as you hollow them and suck him to the back of your throat. 

Your eyes flutter up to watch Joel snarl down at you while his hips buck into your drooling mouth.

“Can’t keep lookin’ at me like that sweetheart, or else we’re not going to get to homebase.”

Your pussy clenches at his words, begging to be filled like your mouth. It’s as if Joel can read your mind, his hand lands in between your thighs and begins petting your aching cunt. 

“Feels like she needs to have my cock in her, doesn’t she?” he says, tapping his fingers against your entrance. “Think maybe we should get to homebase?”

He pulls his cock out of your mouth and lifts you off the couch into his arms, he’s so fucking strong. 

He leaves a searing kiss on your lips before settling on the couch, still holding you close to him. 

“You ready for homebase?” he asks, gazing into your eyes. 

“Put me in coach, I’m ready to play,” you smile, giddy at the anticipation of getting fucked by Joel Miller.

“Go ahead sweetheart, fuck me,” his drawl drips in arousal as you slowly sink yourself down on him, gasping at the feel of his thick cock stretching you. 

Your hips rock back and forth to adjust to the size of him spreading you open. 

“Knew you’d feel so good sweetheart, knew it as soon as I saw you,” he says, peppering kisses across your face and neck. “So pretty, so soft, feels so fucking good.”

Joel Miller always seemed too intimidating, too closed off, too attractive to ever be interested in a neighbor much too young for him, and yet here he is ignoring the baseball game he wanted to watch, instead burying his cock into your pussy.

You ride him, your pace turning more frenzied and desperate the more he chants your name.

The ticks of the fan chains clanging against one another accompanies the sound of your pussy bouncing up and down on his dick. Hips meeting hips, skin hitting skin, breath gasping breath, chain knocking chain. Your fingers wrap around his curls pulling his head up to kiss you. Your breaths puff against his, you can’t hide the blissed out smile that lights up your whole face as he pounds into you.

Your body begins to tingle and quiver when his cock hits the gushy spot that makes you see stars. 

“That’s it baby, that’s it,” Joel grits against your neck biting and sucking, marking you with his mouth and owning you with his cock. 

You scream a choked sob when your orgasm lights through you, your walls clutch Joel’s cock as you come undone. He grips you harder, pushing you into his chest and holding you as close as he can with his tense muscles as he lifts you and pulls out painting your pussy lips with his cum. You collapse against him, gasping for air against his sweaty skin, darting your tongue out to lick some of the sweet salt so you can always remember the taste of playing ball with Joel Miller. 

“Can I tell you something?” Joel asks, his voice radiates through your ear resting against his chest. 

“Hmm? Yeah,” you sigh.

“My TV still works,” he sheepishly says. You sit up at the shock of his words. “I just really wanted to watch the game with a pretty girl.” He sends you a sultry, guilty smirk that you cover with your lips. 

___ Tagging people who showed interest in my WIP a couple weeks ago for this. Along with my camp coven friends who helped.

@luxurychristmaspudding, @sizzlingcloudmentality, @sawymredfox, @magpiepills, @yxtkiwiyxt

@beefrobeefcal, @ace-turned-confused, @yopossum, @mothandpidgeon, @bitchesuntitled

@maggiemayhemnj, @jennaispunk, @timelordfreya

🫠🫠🫠

This… 😮‍💨

🥵🥵

take a guess (your father should know)

warning(s): explicit 18+, smut, daddy kink, plot with porn, marijuana, alcohol mention, wet & messy, dbf!joel, age difference, daddy issues, etc.

combining two requests cause why not! and doing a lil bit more plot than usual cause also why not. enjoy enjoy the filth! this one’s riddled with daddy issues sooo

-

joel, your father’s infamous ex-best friend has flipped your expectations of him right on your head enough times to where you couldn’t keep count or track. you’d expected at the tender age of forty-three he’d be married raising teenagers — but no. instead he had blended in more with the artsy, eccentric loner-type.

had spared you questionably long gazes under that thick beard, undoubtedly hiding some natural crow’s feet. he wore his age and his experience on his shoulders and exuded a particular, unique nonchalance that left a long lasting impression on you. especially when your father first befriended him.

college started right around the corner around the time you started seeing him swing by to drink and play guitar with your dad pretty frequently. granting you a nod of his head while he kept a toothpick to chew on between his lips.

while you lived in your childhood bedroom, still skating through all your general ed classes your first year he had already stopped coming around. you didn’t have the heart to ask your dad whatever had happened, but his name alone became taboo around the house, leaving his brooding looks and exceptionally broad shoulders nothing but a mere memory to you.

all’s you heard around town now was that after him and your father had a falling out, joel seemingly resumed his familiarly isolated lifestyle. only hanging around town alone or with his brother tommy, and you imagine little else being interesting beyond that. he didn’t ever even go on a date to your knowledge.

that being said, it still left you a blubbery-stomach’d mess to see him again in the flesh for the first time in over two years at your local coffee shop on a lucky tuesday.

looking about as rugged and worn in as expected, tired bags and a matching stern disposition still present in him when he orders his coffee — black with two sugars. flannel, cross between grunge and lumberjack while those same arms you remember all those years ago still bulge through every shirt.

the trepidation of going up to him suffocates you. it’s challenging not to feel as if you’re some fan bothering him for an autograph when you go up towards where he sat alone to say your long awaited hello.

the gruff resting frown-face turned into a warm smile at an instant once he looked up and identified who it is that’s just approached him.

the words he used and the way he used them still to this day force this feeling of unadulterated electricity down your spine and straight through your core. only alleviated by rubbing your thighs together could you reminisce about the first time he looked up; smiled, grabbed tight on your shoulders to bring you in for a welcoming hug and said—

“hey there, pretty lady. s’been too long since I’ve seen this face,” he smiles. cheeky while those arms start to squeeze you.

joel gave you his number and told you to ’reach out to him sometime’.

taking forty-eight hours just to gain the courage, you swallowed any vile insecurities stopping you from going after what you want. what you’ve craved ever since.

the first hangout felt casual in nature. joel had cracked open two beers for both of you while you binged horror comedies in his living room. you bonded over his intense and impressive record collection, the vast amount of genres he collected and listened to was yet another reason you’d fallen deep into your attraction to him.

right as summer was barely beginning to set in, you’d say you were at a point where you’ve had plenty of innocent nights with joel at his flat.

but it wasn’t until the hot nights started creeping in that things started to turn around and change.

he started smoking weed with you after he learned that you’d picked up the habit long before college to have a toke and release some stress. you can remember the state of his red cheeks when you told him how some strains make you really horny.

you thought you had no sure shot in hell of one little comment to have you ending up with your panties in his mouth, that gigantic fucking cock you’ve fantasized about now pulsing right between your thighs so gorgeously, and making his mark right inside your wet little walls.

of course he could read the bewilderment and excitement swirled together expression glued onto your face when he’s inching his boxers down his muscular thighs and whipping out his fat cock. to start masturbating. in front of you.

your dad’s old best friend, whom he’d had this mysterious falling out with — the details never spared to you by either of the men. but considering how nasty and deep and hard he’s pounding into you, it had to have been something substantial.

that first time, he had taken you and fucked you right on the couch of his living room, had you whimpering sheepishly down into the pillows while his cock was slowly shoving its way fully inside. balls deep.

“didn’t think you’d end up like this tonight, huh slutty girl? didn’t think your pussy would be begging to take all this?”

you came and trembled after the dirty words left his lips. he kept his cock nudged in the most exquisite spot. milking your pussy all around him for both your simultaneous pleasures.

it was clear why you couldn’t stop coming back after that. joel had a cock that treated you damn good in bed. he’d always whisper filth and moan obscenities every single time he slithered his way back into your panties. always watched you with those lingering, eager eyes that scan your entire body.

he started to call himself daddy the third time you came over. it was enough to make you squeal, hearing his deep, low gruff refer to himself as your play parental figure as his fingers rub your clit in addicting circles. lying to your friends, you say you don’t get turned on by calling a man, especially an older man your daddy. it felt corny, and performative, and overtly pornagraphic.

but when he ducks his face between your legs, and lays his first kiss onto your beating pulsing clit with his arms keeping you pinned to his tongue — you can’t help but writhe and moan joel’s newfound nickname.

tonight wasn’t any different. he’d taken you twice already today, once early in the morning and another time an hour ago after he rubbed your back and made you breakfast.

now he’s spreading your exposed sopping lips to gape you open with two of his fingers, humming approvingly at the drips spilling down your pussy and staining your sticky inner thighs.

“yeah sugar, let’s open that beautiful pussy back up. mhm. daddy’s never finished with you—needs you too much.”

his bare cock slaps against an ass cheek, almost demanding its way back in. so veiny and swollen like he didn’t unload inside you an hour ago, the length of it bobbing back and forth with the chilling movements of his hips.

“feel all that? it’s gotta all go back inside you baby. taking you again. s’many times as your daddy wants.”

you gulp and say nothing, do nothing. just staying pliant and wide open for him when he’s in daddy mode.

“let’s feel up what’s dripping outta you babygirl. oh, fuck. still so messy and pretty down here. I’ll clean you up after this round.”

blushing at the promise of taking care of you in any way, you feel your heartbeat in your pussy riling you up again. slapping his cock against you another few times as he strokes it, awestruck by the sight before him and the way your pussy clenched and glistened responding to him. his dick grows while the globe of the tip glazes your hole creating a loud long squish.

the gushing stimulation overwhelms him and thrills him. feeling it directly inside you how hard your pussy came before he wanted to fuck you some more.

“feels so good around daddy’s dick. she’s so nice n’ creamy for me.” he whispers through a long stretch of heavy breathing.

after his taut heavy balls were resting on your clit, you felt his entire length sliding snug inside you up to your belly button. he slides all the way out before intentionally ramming right back in. your legs have already started to shake on him. giving out as his hip motions help his cock locate every one of your spots while your old cum starts to really smear his dick.

harmonic wet slapping at rapid pacing had joel bulging with delight. thrusting every inch he was blessed with, having your mess combining with both your inner thighs getting coated with spend from the contact. joel almost can’t stand the sight of it without fucking cumming, busting his load to mix your cream with his. see and touch your swollen, exhaustingly pretty pussy. once he zeros in on every thrust, watching him enter and leave your body again and again shoves him off the ledge of control.

“daddy’s n-not—not gonna last, sweet fuck you’re squeezing my cock. mmm, that’s my babygirl, she knows exactly how to make daddy feel good.”

you’re a riled up mess beneath him, pushing back onto his cock to meet him in the middle as he slams it in at an outrageous pace. you could tell that he wasn’t lying, that your pussy truly did a number on him. he found his weakness every single time he either spread your thighs and went down on you or slid his member in all the way home.

“shit, here it comes—fuck! oh….. tell—tell daddy you love him. please.”

you don’t (and can’t) halt any of your wailing underneath him, still squeezing on his cock and hopping up and down. following directions felt so natural, so easy with him.

you clench as you ride him while he’s now stunned still.

“I love you, daddy. I need to have your cum in my pussy. please. I need as many as you’ll give me, mmmdaddy—please!”

joel knows it’s over for him now.

he can’t hold it back after he stammers, “y’gonna let daddy cum m’all over this innocent little pussy? ruin that perfect daughter image, huh good girl?”

joel’s cock twitches and jolts while his cum load fills you up to the very brim, the milky mess of it already trailing down after he’d emptied it.

you cum at the same time he’s twitching inside you, yelling his name and his nickname while you convulse all around the length of him.

“s’right. yeah, release it all over me baby. wanna make you feel good like that. that’s it, keep taking what you need. I’ll take it out whenever you’re ready,” he pants, giving you the lightest of spanks while you bask in the high of your afterglow.

slowly becoming aware of the utter mess in and around your legs along with his, you attempt to catch your breath and hold onto the pillow before giving him the green light to pull out. joel is delicate, always gentle with you as he exits your body, leaving behind his juices swishing with yours. a picture perfect image he can’t help but drink in the sight, before literally going down and sticking his face in to drink and lick your thighs and your opening clean. the hot tongue swirls so gently, wiggling everywhere to clean and worship you while you pull his hair and scream daddy.

when you cum pathetically hard on him again, he pulls the plug for real by grabbing a washcloth to wipe his dick and your legs before plopping himself down to snake a joint to light up.

your arm wraps itself securely around his toned torso. feeling his heart beating wildly out of his chest from the thrill of having you again makes you bury an unstoppable smile creeping up.

joel rubs your back, in his own world, taking easy tokes off the nearly baseball bat sized spliff. the smoke slowly floats out of the cracked window. his fingers that surely still had remnants of you all over them ash the joint in a cup on his side table before turning towards you in a fresh haze, raising a brow in offering a hit.

it burns your throat but he has a cold glass of water readily available. some odd number puffs later you both feel the unwinding, even if his dick alone had a similar effect on you.

“f’you wanna cum again, you lemme know. I’ll take care of you,” joel whispers, tracing absentminded shapes on your skin, dreamily drinking you in. “know how to fuck every last thought out f’this pretty little head.”

a worn out smile is all you have in you to answer, and he surprises you with a brief kiss on your head before ashing the remaining spliff in the cup and resumes his way of aftercare on you.

it’s risky to ask what you incline on asking him, but after the cloudy fog comes it eases your brain of the real world consequences. you rub his chest while you’re asking it, softly —

“what ever happened between you and him?”

after it leaves your mouth you have no way of guessing how joel will react. if his walls will come up, or if he’ll let them all down for once and reveal it to you.

it hangs in the air for an awkward several seconds, as if he’s unsure how to react either. but when he does, he kisses your forehead longer this time and squeezes your shoulder protectively.

joel’s voice is hoarse but gentle when he shrugs and murmurs, “think by now you can take a guess.”

your eyes don’t ever leave to stop observing him, his bed head you tugged on, his lips you’ve kissed and finished on. it’s undeniable how beautiful this man is, and how baffled you are at what he’s insinuating.

“we both know you aren’t a damn kid. you’re an adult, one that can make decisions,” he states, looking up at the ceiling before shaking his head and going back in for another smoke. he inhales another cloud all to blow it out and whisper like it’s still a secret,

“if I wanted to make a.. a move, it wasn’t gonna be in that vicinity of his. n’I could see how you deserve to be treated better, treated with—with care,” he stutters. offers you some more that you accept, hastily taking more puffs and filling your lungs with smoke.

“I mean, baby am I wrong? about him? about you deserving better?”

joel’s tone is littered in desperation. a worry that you feel immediately invested to soothe for him. scratching his scalp and rubbing his arms to show him what you’re trying to tell him.

you mirror his shrug from earlier, looking at him in his glassy eyes before kissing his knuckle and answering, “I think we can both guess.”

it’s evident in those furrowed angry brows, and shiny striking stare that it pains joel to hear that but also only makes him want to readily be there for you; fuck all the stress and all the worry out of you every day that you want it.

“it isn’t right. wanting you like this… but I’m helpless to it, to you…”

his little speech trails off into nothing while his lips start to drift to your neck and take turns nibbling and kissing.

joel nearly cries outright at the feeling of your touch stroking him again, feeling the blood rushing straight down to his cock, growing substantially quicker in size for you.

“yeah, babygirl. that’s your cock. do anything you want to this cock. daddy’ll allow it,” he breathes. you gaze up at him while he hurriedly lights the same leftover joint right back up again, hitting it while your tongue explores the underside of the veins of his dick.

“fucking perfect,” joel can’t help but marvel. blowing smoke down to shotgun it at you, breathing in his hit as you tease his member.

“m’helpless to you too. I need this,” you confess, sinking your lips down on the head and giving him a good long suck. joel’s hips stutter as his tip leaks pre-cum, directly landing right on your tongue. “I can’t live without your cum, daddy. I can’t.”

“oh, shhh…. shhh, daddy knows, daddy knows baby, you’re ‘bout to make me fucking cum doing that….”

just then your mouth travels further down and suckles down onto each of those mouthwatering balls, lightly tugging for more sloppy friction.

joel howls and mewls, spanking your ass while you continue your suckling and drink up his thick load one more time for the night before tomorrow, when you’ll both wake up and do it all over again.

-

🥹🥹🥹

THIS WAS SO SWEET!

Joel in a panic needing to do something. Gah, I felt that!!! 🤣

Love at First Sight

A drabble from A Deeper Purpose/A Deeper Meaning universe, takes place between the two.

A/N: Dedicated to @brigcally - wishing you a flawless delivery ❤️

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel helps you through your delivery.

Warnings: child birth, descriptions of pain/fear, anxiety, blood (only a little), language, fluff, allusion to prior smut but nothing explicit, breastfeeding

WC: 2.6K

It was a beautiful day.

The morning was crisp, the afternoon warm, but not stifling. For once, Joel didn't finish his patrol shift feeling like he had to bathe for an hour after to scrub off the layers of sweat and grime.

He was feeling good. His back didn't hurt so much that day and he was in a remarkable mood. It probably had something to do with the night before. The last trimester of your pregnancy had made you absolutely insatiable for him and he was more than happy to oblige. That even included nights like the previous night when you woke him up with your hand already snaked down his pants and your lips leaving feverish kisses all over his bare chest.

It was a shock he wasn't more tired.

But it turned out that was a bigger blessing than he originally thought because he was about to have one of the longest days of his life.

The moment he entered the gates and slid down from his horse, reins in hand as he began to lead his mare into the stable, Tommy came racing up to him from down the street with a frantic look in his eye.

Joel's heart plummeted and he dropped the reins, horse long forgotten.

"Is she okay?" he asked, pulling his gloves off and tossing them on the ground before breaking out into a sprint towards his house.

Tommy skid to a stop so he could change directions, jogging after him.

"Yeah, she's fine," Tommy called, causing Joel to slow down, but only just a little. "She's at the clinic, doc says she's in labor-"

"Tommy, what the fuck?" Joel yelled as he resumed his running.

"She's fine!" Tommy yelled after him with a dry laugh. "She's hours away from anythin', only a little dilated, slow the hell down!"

But of course, he didn't. You needed him.

He ran the entire way to the clinic, bursting through the door, gasping for air with his head swiveling this way and that, looking for any sign of you. One of the nurses looked up from her desk and stood.

"Joel, she's fine," she began to say calmly, but Joel just shook his head, chest heaving and shaky finger pointing to the back room.

"Where?"

The nurse led him to the room where you were laying in bed with a book, as if nothing were happening whatsoever.

"W-what's goin' on?" Joel stammered, looking around the room as if he were missing something. You looked up from your book and smiled.

"You're back early."

Joel huffed and shrugged his coat off. "Tommy said you're in labor. The hell's goin' on? Where's the doc?"

"I'm only three centimeters," you said, picking your book back up and flipping the page. "It's gonna be a while."

Joel just stood there, heart still thundering in his chest as he struggled to shift out of panic mode. He had expected to come into the room where you were screaming and crying in pain, scared and wondering where he was, but everything seemed perfectly... normal.

Slowly, he sunk down into the chair next to your bed and raked his fingers through his hair.

"Scared the shit outta me," he muttered. "Do you need anythin'?"

You shook your head, still focused on your book. "Nope. I'm all good."

He sat there, completely bewildered and desperate for something to do to help.

"Water?"

You held up the bottle you had tucked at your side and shook your head.

"Pillows?"

You grinned. "Three's plenty."

He couldn't just sit there. He had to make himself useful and burn off some of that nervous energy. So he began to pace around the room, squinting at the tiny printer next to your bed that tracked the baby's heart rate and your contractions, as if he understood what he was reading. Then he peered out into the hallway, looking for any sign from the medical staff.

"Where's the doc?" he asked again after about twenty fitful minutes. "Shouldn't he be checkin' on you? I'll go find him."

"Joel!" you exclaimed with a laugh. He turned around, expression so worried that it melted your heart on the spot. "Joel, come sit down. I don't need the doctor right now."

His fingers fidgeted at his side when he glanced between you and the open door as if he were deciding which way to go, then eventually caved and went back to your side.

"I gotta do somethin'," he explained, sitting back down and taking your outstretched hand.

"I think you did enough," you joked, pointing at your rounded belly. He gave you an obligatory laugh but his nerves wouldn't settle for the life of him. "We're going to be here for a long time. There's no use getting worked up about it, okay?" you said softly, thumb stroking his rough knuckles.

He glanced down at the floor for a moment, then took a deep breath before replying. "With Sarah, it happened so fast," he told you. You remained perfectly quiet while he spoke. He didn't like to talk about Sarah much and you never pressured him, but whenever he brought her up, you always hung on his every word. "Her mom - her water broke in the middle of the night and by mornin', I was holdin' Sarah in my arms. I guess I just thought..." he trailed off and sniffed a bit, gaze still pinned to the floor.

"Everyone's experience is different," you told him gently when it became apparent he was done talking. "Sometimes it happens fast, sometimes it takes days."

"Days?" he repeated, looking up at you with surprise.

"Yeah, let's hope that's not going to happen to me because you'll really have your work cut out for you, Miller."

He laughed, and that time you could tell it was his real laugh. He was finally beginning to relax.

"How are you so calm 'bout this, darlin'?" he asked, sitting back in his chair to look at you with admiration in his eyes.

"Because I'm so happy, Joel," you told him simply with a little shrug. "And I know no matter what, as long as I have you and our baby, it'll all work out."

His eyes grew misty and he quickly slid his gaze elsewhere, but you caught it and smiled.

"Well," he finally said, clearing his throat. "You need anythin' at all, you just gotta ask, alright?"

You nodded, pleased that he was finally settling down, then went to pick up your book. When you reached forward, you hissed and grabbed your stomach, a sudden searing pain ripping across your lower belly and spreading down your spine.

"Fuck!" you seethed. Joel was on his feet in an instant.

"What is it?"

"Contraction," you gritted out, grabbing onto his hand to hold on to something while you rode out the pain. Joel's face instantly filled with worry again.

"Lemme get the doc, maybe he can give you somethin'."

"No!" you shouted, then took a deep, shuddering breath before relaxing back into your pillows. "No," you whispered as your grip on his hand loosened. "Oh, wow," you breathed, exhaling slowly as the pain faded away. "That was a lot more intense than the other ones."

"Alright, there's stuff the doc can give you -"

"What do you think he's got, Joel?" you asked him. "It's the end of the damn world, there's no pain management he can give me that won't hurt the baby."

Joel propped his hands on his hips and shifted his weight anxiously as he tried to think of a solution.

"What 'bout a hot water bottle?"

You considered it for a moment before nodding.

"I'll ask the doctor if I can use it on my stomach but at the very least it'll help my goddamn tailbone."

Joel clapped his hands together once and quickly ran out of the room, thrilled to finally have something he could do to help. He was gone fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. When he stepped back into your room, rubber water bottle sloshing under his arm, you were in the midst of another contraction, and this time the doctor was at your side studying the monitor next to your bed while you cried and writhed around in pain.

"Shit! Baby, I'm sorry," Joel said, rushing to your side to grab your hand. You held onto him like a lifeline, forehead and neck slick with sweat and cheeks stained with tears as you tried to fight through the worst part of the contraction.

Joel had had enough of seeing you in pain.

"Can't you do somethin'?" he barked at the doctor, an elderly man who, to his credit, was rather unshakable. He just sighed and peered at Joel over his glasses.

"Only thing that'll help is gettin' that baby out," he said gruffly. When your contraction finally subsided and your muscles relaxed into the mattress, your sheets already looking soaked with sweat, the doctor tapped your knees and kneeled at the foot of the bed. Joel watched, slightly horrified, as the man shoved two gloved fingers inside you. Your jaw clenched and your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to breathe through it, but Joel could tell you were in more pain than you were letting on.

"Comin' along nicely," he remarked when he finally removed his fingers. He snapped the gloves off and tossed them into the ever growing pile of garbage in the basket next to the door. "You might just have a baby before end of the day. You're at six centimeters."

"Six!?" Joel exclaimed. "An hour ago you were three!"

"And she might stay at six for hours til there's any more movement," the doctor said. When he saw the look on your face at the thought of being in that much pain for that long, he quickly followed up with, "Or you'll continue to dilate quickly and in a few hours you'll have a beautiful baby."

Tears filled your eyes once the doctor left and you buried your face in your hands.

"C'mon, baby, don't cry, it's alright," Joel soothed. Then he remembered the water bottle, so he slipped a pillow case around it and pressed it up against your back.

"Oh," you breathed, head lifting up and eyes fluttering open. "Oh, that feels good."

"Yeah?" Joel asked, mindlessly rubbing your upper back. He watched you take a few deep breaths, then your tears slowed and you leaned back with a deep sigh.

"Thank you," you whispered, "this feels so much better."

"You're welcome," he replied just as softly. "I won't leave your side again."

The remainder of the afternoon was more of the same. Contractions came quicker and grew more intense with each hour, but thankfully every time the doctor checked, you were steadily progressing. Joel kept your water bottle warm and would massage your back and shoulders whenever you grew too tense. And even though the pain was getting worse, you were doing just fine because you knew each jolt of pain was bringing you closer and closer to meeting your baby.

It was around nine in the evening when the doctor announced you were ten centimeters.

"You ready to push?" he asked, giving you a comforting wink. You nodded and looked up at Joel, your fingers laced together anxiously. His expression was a mix of fear and excitement while he murmured praise and comfort in your ear. One of the nurses elevated your bed and padded the sides and another was laying out all sorts of sterilized instruments on a small table at the foot of the bed. Joel caught you eyeballing at a particularly scary looking scalpel and he leaned down.

"You don't look down there, you look right at me," he told you firmly. You nodded and squeezed his hand before taking a deep breath.

"I can do this."

Joel grinned and gave you a quick kiss.

"Fuck yeah, you can."

And you did. You really fucking did.

It took less than an hour but it felt like a whole lifetime, and just as you promised, you didn't look away from Joel once. With every push, he stared you right in the eye and clutched your hand and told you how strong you were, how he hoped your baby would be just like you and how he couldn't wait to meet them.

And finally, with one last push that took every ounce of energy you had, you felt it: relief. The pressure in your lower stomach was gone, the pain in your back and tailbone disappeared and for one ridiculous moment you thought you had somehow transcended what it was to feel pain until you heard a sharp wail pierce the air.

Tears flooded your eyes and your heart was racing so fast, the monitor next to your bed started beeping angrily. Then the doctor held up your baby from above the drop cloth that separated your lower half and for the first time in your life, you knew what it was to truly love someone. You loved Joel and your friends, but this was entirely different. This was a unique, pure kind of love that existed exclusively between a mother and her child, a kind of love that settled deep in your chest without any convincing at all.

"She's beautiful," you sobbed, reaching out for your baby.

"How'd you -" Joel began, but the doctor ushered him over to cut the umbilical cord so they could clean her up.

"She's right, it's a girl," he told Joel once he sliced the pinkish grey cord. Blood and clear fluid splashed onto the floor and it felt like marking the beginning of something. Somehow with that simple motion, Joel felt that feeling he never thought he would feel again. That unwavering urge to love and protect and provide flared like heat inside of him to the point where he had to hold himself back from letting the nurses whisk his daughter away.

"We did it," you whimpered, collapsing weakly into bed with tears streaming from your eyes while the doctor got to work cleaning and sewing you back up.

"You did it," Joel corrected before pressing a kiss against your forehead, then another to your lips, lingering for just one second longer before pulling back and swiping away tears of his own.

The two of you stayed like that, enjoying your little bubble for five minutes longer, knowing full well when the nurses brought your baby back into the room, it would no longer be just the two of you ever again.

And when they did, oh, when they did bring her back in, all red faced and angry with the world already, you couldn't have been happier. But when she latched onto your breast, even though that first time was clumsy and awkward, she finally quieted down and looked up at you. She had deep brown eyes just like Joel and she gave you a look that said, I know you. You just laughed and carefully stroked her perfect little cheek while Joel leaned over the bed, smile permanently plastered across his face as he watched his girls officially meet for the first time.

"She's so perfect," you whispered, watching as milk trickled from the corner of her mouth.

"You did so good, mama," Joel murmured in your ear before kissing the side of your head. "What should we name her?"

You couldn't look away from her, and she couldn't get enough of the two of you. Her eyes darted back and forth, probably wondering what the hell was going on and why her mom and dad wouldn't stop staring at her. And before you even had a chance to think it over, you answered.

"Emma," you said, grinning when her eyes found yours again. "Her name's Emma."

Please follow @punkshort-notifs and turn on notifications for fic updates ❤️

Softer

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader

Summary: Joel’s feeling a tad self-conscious

Warnings/Tags: Humor, No outbreak AU, Tommy being an asshole in a brotherly way, fluff, pregnancy, sympathetic pregnancy, blended families, strip tease, nothing bad happens to Sarah ever and Ellie's your kid, and I think that’s it?

A/N: Thank you much @strang3lov3, @whocaresstillthelouvre, @jay-zzle for your eyes and Jai also for the moodboard!!! 😍🥰😘

This is for @beefrobeefcal’s Joel Sat on Me challenge! I hope you laugh at this as much as I did writing it 😅

Masterlist||AO3

Divider by @saradika-graphics

The gender reveal/baby shower was going off without a hitch. Maria was making sure people knew where to put gifts, Tommy was helping Joel at the grill, while your mom was helping you put the Boy or Girl banner around you. You hate this kind of attention but Maria and your parents both wanted to make a show of it. Despite your arguments on tradition being only for the first baby.

“Well, it’s you and Joel’s first baby together,” Maria deadpanned, all while your mom nodded along.

“Can’t beat that logic!” Your dad grinned.

“Fine,” you relented, rolling your eyes, “Good thing it’s the last one too.” 

Joel smirked, his palm caressing your thigh, “It’ll be fine,” he whispered in your ear, “Least there will be cake,” he added with a shrug. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Can’t beat that logic!” You reply mockingly, sticking your tongue out.

—

“Mom!” Ellie shouts, “Sarah’s trying to sneak into the cake!”

“Quit being such a narc!” Sarah laughs, playfully smacking Ellie’s arm, “You want to know just as much as I do!”

“Girls!” Joel hollers. “Come help your uncle Tommy set up!”

Both girls walk to the grill, helping Tommy carry hamburgers and hotdogs to the table.

“Alright everyone!” Maria announces, raising her voice to get everyone’s attention. “Let’s eat! Parents-to-be first!”

“Hey momma,” Joel grins, meeting you at the food table and placing a soft kiss on your temple, “What ya in the mood for?”

“More like what is the baby in the mood for?” you grumble, trying to adjust the sash around your body. “I hate this fucking thing,” you hiss.

“Just gotta eat, cut the cake and get through presents then I’ll kick everyone out,” Joel reassures.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you mumble, grabbing a plate and staring at the food. The baby decided it wanted corn on the cob, a burger with all the extras, potato salad, and a small salad with more ranch on it than lettuce.

“Jesus Joel,” Tommy laughed when you both got to one of the tables. “Your woman’s the one eatin’ for two not you!”

Everyone looked at Joel with his plate piled high with two burgers, two hotdogs, and plenty of sides to feed a small army. You saw the flush creeping up his neck as he sat next to you. Joel opened his mouth to say something but Maria interrupted.

“Oh hush,” Maria said, smacking Tommy softly on the shoulder.

“Probably going through that sympathetic pregnancy thing,” a guest piped in. “My husband did that too!”

“Sympathetic pregnancy?” Ellie asked with her mouth full of potato salad. Your mom begins to laugh, shaking her head at Ellie.

“Ellie, gross,” you hiss. “Finish eating before you speak.”

Ellie makes a show of swallowing her food before speaking again. “What the hell is sympathetic pregnancy?”

“Ellie,” you groan. “Language! I haven’t spent the past 13 years raising a hellion!”

“And just think, you’re starting over!” your dad laughs.

Joel, meanwhile, keeps pushing the food around on his plate, taking smaller bites of the sides.

“Okay, googled it!” Sarah announces to the table, wagging her phone and clearing her throat. “Google says, c- cou- nevermind, I’m not even gonna try. Sympathetic pregnancy is a proposed condition in which an expectant father experiences some of the same symptoms and behavior as his pregnant partner. These most often include major weight gain, altered hormone levels, morning nausea, and disturbed sleep patterns.”

“That why you were asking for Pepto the other day at the site?” Tommy asks, nudging Joel’s shoulder before sitting down. “Dealing with some morning sickness as well?”

“Damn it Tommy,” Joel growls, balling up his fist. “If you don’t cut it out-“

“Alright, alright,” Maria hisses. “Enough.” She adds pointing at Tommy.

—

Joel stood in front of the mirror, looking at himself. Marriage had been good to him. His mental health and financial stability had improved, and he seemed overall a happier person. The only drawback seemed to be the effect it had on his waistline the moment he got you pregnant. He hadn’t thought about it before but Tommy got in his head. Especially when he announced to everyone at the party it made sense now why Joel had to move his tool belt to the next hole for it to fit.

“Whatcha lookin’ at hot stuff?” You smirk, standing in the doorway of the adjoining bathroom with your toothbrush in hand.

“Thinkin’ I need to go on a diet,” Joel huffs out, turning towards you with his hands on his hips.

“The fuck would you do that for?!”

“Tommy’s ri—“

“I swear if the next words out of your mouth are Tommy’s right.” You pout, trying your best to not let the toothpaste escape your mouth as you move back into the bathroom, spitting into the sink, “I’m gonna kill ‘em.”

Going back to the bedroom, you sit on the edge of the bed, watching Joel find his pajamas for the night. Sure, he’s gotten thicker in the middle since you got pregnant. His pants fit a bit tighter around his thighs. His chest, oh god his chest, the way your hands grip onto the meaty pecs he has now. You make a small noise at the memory of this morning before the girls woke up, and how you rode him as best you could with your swollen belly in the way, slick pooling in your underwear.

“What?” Joel asks, turning to look at you, noticing that feral glint in your eyes. He’s seen it more and more as the months have gone by. Sarah’s mom was nothing compared to you at this stage in pregnancy. Revved up and ready to go 24/7 these days.

“Tommy’s got it totally wrong,” you grin, “I love the way you look these days Joel.”

“Yeah?” Joel smiles shyly, rubbing the back of his neck, turning to face you, “what.. uh.. what about it?”

“Dad bod through and through,” you hum, adjusting on the bed to sit a little further back. “Was thinking about this morning, how I can hold onto your chest a little better with your pecs being a little softer.”

“Yeah?” Joel grins, watching your eyes track his fingers as they open the first couple buttons of his flannel, his chest barely peeking out through the fabric, “Should I put on a show?”

“I wanna see my man!” you let out a breath nodding your head eagerly.

“Feel like we need some music or something,” Joel says, letting out a shy laugh, trailing his palms down the front of his shirt, popping open more of the buttons. You begin humming 70’s porno music, “No thank you, that’s enough.”

You shrug letting out a giggle as he continues unbuttoning his shirt, his strong chest and thick belly being revealed as he rips the flannel shirt back in a dramatic fashion, spreading his legs wide and tilting his head to sway his curls behind him.

“Jesus Christ, Napoleon Dynamite. Ya gonna take it off or what?”

“‘Scuse me?” Joel asks, straightening up, pinning you with a look, pulling his flannel back over his shoulders, “Listen, I’ve never done this for anybody. I’d ‘preciate if ya didn’t make rude comments.”

You clear your throat and lean your arms back against the bedding to prop yourself up, “Sorry, horny goblins took over, proceed.”

With his flannel shirt open, he starts flipping his belt open, stalking towards you, nodding your head at this new development, sliding his belt out quickly from his belt loops causing a gasp to escape your lips.

“Mmmm,” you moan softly, thighs squeezing together, and squirming on the bed “Joel. You look so fucking good like this.”

Joel spins around to show you his backside before slipping one shoulder of the flannel off, turning his head to the side with a smirk as he slowly slides it off his arm, followed by the other. You hear the button and zipper of his jeans sliding down. He begins teasing you with his jeans, dropping them some before pulling them back up and swiveling his hips, he puts one foot on the opposite leg to try and help pull the leg out.

“Fuck!” He yelps, as he falls back sitting on you, “Shit that wasn’t supposed to happen!”

“Ow!” You groan, smacking his ass to get him to move. He rolls off you to lay beside you on the bed.

“You good?” Joel asks, laying on his side next to you, placing his palm on your belly.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you grin, placing your hand on top of his with a sigh. “No Magic Mike in here, but for your first attempt that was good Miller,” you add with a smirk.

“Fuck you,” Joel grins, leaning up to kiss you.

“Fuck. Please!” You groan, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him in for a deeper kiss.

❤️😍🥰

Thank you for your help on this!!! I too love a sassy Joel 😅

Softer

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader

Summary: Joel’s feeling a tad self-conscious

Warnings/Tags: Humor, No outbreak AU, Tommy being an asshole in a brotherly way, fluff, pregnancy, sympathetic pregnancy, blended families, strip tease, nothing bad happens to Sarah ever and Ellie's your kid, and I think that’s it?

A/N: Thank you much @strang3lov3, @whocaresstillthelouvre, @jay-zzle for your eyes and Jai also for the moodboard!!! 😍🥰😘

This is for @beefrobeefcal’s Joel Sat on Me challenge! I hope you laugh at this as much as I did writing it 😅

Masterlist||AO3

Divider by @saradika-graphics

The gender reveal/baby shower was going off without a hitch. Maria was making sure people knew where to put gifts, Tommy was helping Joel at the grill, while your mom was helping you put the Boy or Girl banner around you. You hate this kind of attention but Maria and your parents both wanted to make a show of it. Despite your arguments on tradition being only for the first baby.

“Well, it’s you and Joel’s first baby together,” Maria deadpanned, all while your mom nodded along.

“Can’t beat that logic!” Your dad grinned.

“Fine,” you relented, rolling your eyes, “Good thing it’s the last one too.” 

Joel smirked, his palm caressing your thigh, “It’ll be fine,” he whispered in your ear, “Least there will be cake,” he added with a shrug. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Can’t beat that logic!” You reply mockingly, sticking your tongue out.

—

“Mom!” Ellie shouts, “Sarah’s trying to sneak into the cake!”

“Quit being such a narc!” Sarah laughs, playfully smacking Ellie’s arm, “You want to know just as much as I do!”

“Girls!” Joel hollers. “Come help your uncle Tommy set up!”

Both girls walk to the grill, helping Tommy carry hamburgers and hotdogs to the table.

“Alright everyone!” Maria announces, raising her voice to get everyone’s attention. “Let’s eat! Parents-to-be first!”

“Hey momma,” Joel grins, meeting you at the food table and placing a soft kiss on your temple, “What ya in the mood for?”

“More like what is the baby in the mood for?” you grumble, trying to adjust the sash around your body. “I hate this fucking thing,” you hiss.

“Just gotta eat, cut the cake and get through presents then I’ll kick everyone out,” Joel reassures.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you mumble, grabbing a plate and staring at the food. The baby decided it wanted corn on the cob, a burger with all the extras, potato salad, and a small salad with more ranch on it than lettuce.

“Jesus Joel,” Tommy laughed when you both got to one of the tables. “Your woman’s the one eatin’ for two not you!”

Everyone looked at Joel with his plate piled high with two burgers, two hotdogs, and plenty of sides to feed a small army. You saw the flush creeping up his neck as he sat next to you. Joel opened his mouth to say something but Maria interrupted.

“Oh hush,” Maria said, smacking Tommy softly on the shoulder.

“Probably going through that sympathetic pregnancy thing,” a guest piped in. “My husband did that too!”

“Sympathetic pregnancy?” Ellie asked with her mouth full of potato salad. Your mom begins to laugh, shaking her head at Ellie.

“Ellie, gross,” you hiss. “Finish eating before you speak.”

Ellie makes a show of swallowing her food before speaking again. “What the hell is sympathetic pregnancy?”

“Ellie,” you groan. “Language! I haven’t spent the past 13 years raising a hellion!”

“And just think, you’re starting over!” your dad laughs.

Joel, meanwhile, keeps pushing the food around on his plate, taking smaller bites of the sides.

“Okay, googled it!” Sarah announces to the table, wagging her phone and clearing her throat. “Google says, c- cou- nevermind, I’m not even gonna try. Sympathetic pregnancy is a proposed condition in which an expectant father experiences some of the same symptoms and behavior as his pregnant partner. These most often include major weight gain, altered hormone levels, morning nausea, and disturbed sleep patterns.”

“That why you were asking for Pepto the other day at the site?” Tommy asks, nudging Joel’s shoulder before sitting down. “Dealing with some morning sickness as well?”

“Damn it Tommy,” Joel growls, balling up his fist. “If you don’t cut it out-“

“Alright, alright,” Maria hisses. “Enough.” She adds pointing at Tommy.

—

Joel stood in front of the mirror, looking at himself. Marriage had been good to him. His mental health and financial stability had improved, and he seemed overall a happier person. The only drawback seemed to be the effect it had on his waistline the moment he got you pregnant. He hadn’t thought about it before but Tommy got in his head. Especially when he announced to everyone at the party it made sense now why Joel had to move his tool belt to the next hole for it to fit.

“Whatcha lookin’ at hot stuff?” You smirk, standing in the doorway of the adjoining bathroom with your toothbrush in hand.

“Thinkin’ I need to go on a diet,” Joel huffs out, turning towards you with his hands on his hips.

“The fuck would you do that for?!”

“Tommy’s ri—“

“I swear if the next words out of your mouth are Tommy’s right.” You pout, trying your best to not let the toothpaste escape your mouth as you move back into the bathroom, spitting into the sink, “I’m gonna kill ‘em.”

Going back to the bedroom, you sit on the edge of the bed, watching Joel find his pajamas for the night. Sure, he’s gotten thicker in the middle since you got pregnant. His pants fit a bit tighter around his thighs. His chest, oh god his chest, the way your hands grip onto the meaty pecs he has now. You make a small noise at the memory of this morning before the girls woke up, and how you rode him as best you could with your swollen belly in the way, slick pooling in your underwear.

“What?” Joel asks, turning to look at you, noticing that feral glint in your eyes. He’s seen it more and more as the months have gone by. Sarah’s mom was nothing compared to you at this stage in pregnancy. Revved up and ready to go 24/7 these days.

“Tommy’s got it totally wrong,” you grin, “I love the way you look these days Joel.”

“Yeah?” Joel smiles shyly, rubbing the back of his neck, turning to face you, “what.. uh.. what about it?”

“Dad bod through and through,” you hum, adjusting on the bed to sit a little further back. “Was thinking about this morning, how I can hold onto your chest a little better with your pecs being a little softer.”

“Yeah?” Joel grins, watching your eyes track his fingers as they open the first couple buttons of his flannel, his chest barely peeking out through the fabric, “Should I put on a show?”

“I wanna see my man!” you let out a breath nodding your head eagerly.

“Feel like we need some music or something,” Joel says, letting out a shy laugh, trailing his palms down the front of his shirt, popping open more of the buttons. You begin humming 70’s porno music, “No thank you, that’s enough.”

You shrug letting out a giggle as he continues unbuttoning his shirt, his strong chest and thick belly being revealed as he rips the flannel shirt back in a dramatic fashion, spreading his legs wide and tilting his head to sway his curls behind him.

“Jesus Christ, Napoleon Dynamite. Ya gonna take it off or what?”

“‘Scuse me?” Joel asks, straightening up, pinning you with a look, pulling his flannel back over his shoulders, “Listen, I’ve never done this for anybody. I’d ‘preciate if ya didn’t make rude comments.”

You clear your throat and lean your arms back against the bedding to prop yourself up, “Sorry, horny goblins took over, proceed.”

With his flannel shirt open, he starts flipping his belt open, stalking towards you, nodding your head at this new development, sliding his belt out quickly from his belt loops causing a gasp to escape your lips.

“Mmmm,” you moan softly, thighs squeezing together, and squirming on the bed “Joel. You look so fucking good like this.”

Joel spins around to show you his backside before slipping one shoulder of the flannel off, turning his head to the side with a smirk as he slowly slides it off his arm, followed by the other. You hear the button and zipper of his jeans sliding down. He begins teasing you with his jeans, dropping them some before pulling them back up and swiveling his hips, he puts one foot on the opposite leg to try and help pull the leg out.

“Fuck!” He yelps, as he falls back sitting on you, “Shit that wasn’t supposed to happen!”

“Ow!” You groan, smacking his ass to get him to move. He rolls off you to lay beside you on the bed.

“You good?” Joel asks, laying on his side next to you, placing his palm on your belly.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you grin, placing your hand on top of his with a sigh. “No Magic Mike in here, but for your first attempt that was good Miller,” you add with a smirk.

“Fuck you,” Joel grins, leaning up to kiss you.

“Fuck. Please!” You groan, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him in for a deeper kiss.

Aww! Thank you for reading and sharing! ❤️❤️

Softer

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader

Summary: Joel’s feeling a tad self-conscious

Warnings/Tags: Humor, No outbreak AU, Tommy being an asshole in a brotherly way, fluff, pregnancy, sympathetic pregnancy, blended families, strip tease, nothing bad happens to Sarah ever and Ellie's your kid, and I think that’s it?

A/N: Thank you much @strang3lov3, @whocaresstillthelouvre, @jay-zzle for your eyes and Jai also for the moodboard!!! 😍🥰😘

This is for @beefrobeefcal’s Joel Sat on Me challenge! I hope you laugh at this as much as I did writing it 😅

Masterlist||AO3

Divider by @saradika-graphics

The gender reveal/baby shower was going off without a hitch. Maria was making sure people knew where to put gifts, Tommy was helping Joel at the grill, while your mom was helping you put the Boy or Girl banner around you. You hate this kind of attention but Maria and your parents both wanted to make a show of it. Despite your arguments on tradition being only for the first baby.

“Well, it’s you and Joel’s first baby together,” Maria deadpanned, all while your mom nodded along.

“Can’t beat that logic!” Your dad grinned.

“Fine,” you relented, rolling your eyes, “Good thing it’s the last one too.” 

Joel smirked, his palm caressing your thigh, “It’ll be fine,” he whispered in your ear, “Least there will be cake,” he added with a shrug. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Can’t beat that logic!” You reply mockingly, sticking your tongue out.

—

“Mom!” Ellie shouts, “Sarah’s trying to sneak into the cake!”

“Quit being such a narc!” Sarah laughs, playfully smacking Ellie’s arm, “You want to know just as much as I do!”

“Girls!” Joel hollers. “Come help your uncle Tommy set up!”

Both girls walk to the grill, helping Tommy carry hamburgers and hotdogs to the table.

“Alright everyone!” Maria announces, raising her voice to get everyone’s attention. “Let’s eat! Parents-to-be first!”

“Hey momma,” Joel grins, meeting you at the food table and placing a soft kiss on your temple, “What ya in the mood for?”

“More like what is the baby in the mood for?” you grumble, trying to adjust the sash around your body. “I hate this fucking thing,” you hiss.

“Just gotta eat, cut the cake and get through presents then I’ll kick everyone out,” Joel reassures.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you mumble, grabbing a plate and staring at the food. The baby decided it wanted corn on the cob, a burger with all the extras, potato salad, and a small salad with more ranch on it than lettuce.

“Jesus Joel,” Tommy laughed when you both got to one of the tables. “Your woman’s the one eatin’ for two not you!”

Everyone looked at Joel with his plate piled high with two burgers, two hotdogs, and plenty of sides to feed a small army. You saw the flush creeping up his neck as he sat next to you. Joel opened his mouth to say something but Maria interrupted.

“Oh hush,” Maria said, smacking Tommy softly on the shoulder.

“Probably going through that sympathetic pregnancy thing,” a guest piped in. “My husband did that too!”

“Sympathetic pregnancy?” Ellie asked with her mouth full of potato salad. Your mom begins to laugh, shaking her head at Ellie.

“Ellie, gross,” you hiss. “Finish eating before you speak.”

Ellie makes a show of swallowing her food before speaking again. “What the hell is sympathetic pregnancy?”

“Ellie,” you groan. “Language! I haven’t spent the past 13 years raising a hellion!”

“And just think, you’re starting over!” your dad laughs.

Joel, meanwhile, keeps pushing the food around on his plate, taking smaller bites of the sides.

“Okay, googled it!” Sarah announces to the table, wagging her phone and clearing her throat. “Google says, c- cou- nevermind, I’m not even gonna try. Sympathetic pregnancy is a proposed condition in which an expectant father experiences some of the same symptoms and behavior as his pregnant partner. These most often include major weight gain, altered hormone levels, morning nausea, and disturbed sleep patterns.”

“That why you were asking for Pepto the other day at the site?” Tommy asks, nudging Joel’s shoulder before sitting down. “Dealing with some morning sickness as well?”

“Damn it Tommy,” Joel growls, balling up his fist. “If you don’t cut it out-“

“Alright, alright,” Maria hisses. “Enough.” She adds pointing at Tommy.

—

Joel stood in front of the mirror, looking at himself. Marriage had been good to him. His mental health and financial stability had improved, and he seemed overall a happier person. The only drawback seemed to be the effect it had on his waistline the moment he got you pregnant. He hadn’t thought about it before but Tommy got in his head. Especially when he announced to everyone at the party it made sense now why Joel had to move his tool belt to the next hole for it to fit.

“Whatcha lookin’ at hot stuff?” You smirk, standing in the doorway of the adjoining bathroom with your toothbrush in hand.

“Thinkin’ I need to go on a diet,” Joel huffs out, turning towards you with his hands on his hips.

“The fuck would you do that for?!”

“Tommy’s ri—“

“I swear if the next words out of your mouth are Tommy’s right.” You pout, trying your best to not let the toothpaste escape your mouth as you move back into the bathroom, spitting into the sink, “I’m gonna kill ‘em.”

Going back to the bedroom, you sit on the edge of the bed, watching Joel find his pajamas for the night. Sure, he’s gotten thicker in the middle since you got pregnant. His pants fit a bit tighter around his thighs. His chest, oh god his chest, the way your hands grip onto the meaty pecs he has now. You make a small noise at the memory of this morning before the girls woke up, and how you rode him as best you could with your swollen belly in the way, slick pooling in your underwear.

“What?” Joel asks, turning to look at you, noticing that feral glint in your eyes. He’s seen it more and more as the months have gone by. Sarah’s mom was nothing compared to you at this stage in pregnancy. Revved up and ready to go 24/7 these days.

“Tommy’s got it totally wrong,” you grin, “I love the way you look these days Joel.”

“Yeah?” Joel smiles shyly, rubbing the back of his neck, turning to face you, “what.. uh.. what about it?”

“Dad bod through and through,” you hum, adjusting on the bed to sit a little further back. “Was thinking about this morning, how I can hold onto your chest a little better with your pecs being a little softer.”

“Yeah?” Joel grins, watching your eyes track his fingers as they open the first couple buttons of his flannel, his chest barely peeking out through the fabric, “Should I put on a show?”

“I wanna see my man!” you let out a breath nodding your head eagerly.

“Feel like we need some music or something,” Joel says, letting out a shy laugh, trailing his palms down the front of his shirt, popping open more of the buttons. You begin humming 70’s porno music, “No thank you, that’s enough.”

You shrug letting out a giggle as he continues unbuttoning his shirt, his strong chest and thick belly being revealed as he rips the flannel shirt back in a dramatic fashion, spreading his legs wide and tilting his head to sway his curls behind him.

“Jesus Christ, Napoleon Dynamite. Ya gonna take it off or what?”

“‘Scuse me?” Joel asks, straightening up, pinning you with a look, pulling his flannel back over his shoulders, “Listen, I’ve never done this for anybody. I’d ‘preciate if ya didn’t make rude comments.”

You clear your throat and lean your arms back against the bedding to prop yourself up, “Sorry, horny goblins took over, proceed.”

With his flannel shirt open, he starts flipping his belt open, stalking towards you, nodding your head at this new development, sliding his belt out quickly from his belt loops causing a gasp to escape your lips.

“Mmmm,” you moan softly, thighs squeezing together, and squirming on the bed “Joel. You look so fucking good like this.”

Joel spins around to show you his backside before slipping one shoulder of the flannel off, turning his head to the side with a smirk as he slowly slides it off his arm, followed by the other. You hear the button and zipper of his jeans sliding down. He begins teasing you with his jeans, dropping them some before pulling them back up and swiveling his hips, he puts one foot on the opposite leg to try and help pull the leg out.

“Fuck!” He yelps, as he falls back sitting on you, “Shit that wasn’t supposed to happen!”

“Ow!” You groan, smacking his ass to get him to move. He rolls off you to lay beside you on the bed.

“You good?” Joel asks, laying on his side next to you, placing his palm on your belly.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you grin, placing your hand on top of his with a sigh. “No Magic Mike in here, but for your first attempt that was good Miller,” you add with a smirk.

“Fuck you,” Joel grins, leaning up to kiss you.

“Fuck. Please!” You groan, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him in for a deeper kiss.

🤣🤣🤣

Did not expect that ending LMFAO

Hope no one sees me cackling in my car and asks what’s up

Married Joel Sits on You feat. Joel Miller

Summary: Joel has a question for you. My contribution to my own Married Joel Sits on You challenge.

No Outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader | Rating: Teen | Word Count: 615

Content Warnings: joel sits on reader, possible collapse of popchair imminent, fire pit recklessness, mentions of marital weight gain

Author's Notes: thank you to me for being such a menace. not read or proofed by anyone but me so you get what you get.

No more tag lists - follow @beefnotes + turn on notifications for fic updates!

This was not what you had envisioned your Saturday night to be. 

It had started out normally -  sitting in your neighbour’s backyard around the firepit, chatting with him and his wife and his brother and his brother’s wife. It had been pleasant, downright agreeable and gratifying even. At least it was until Tommy bid you and the rest of the group good night and he and Maria stood up and left.

You were left alone with Joel and Tess. Their exchanged glances from the otherside of the fire pit left you feeling a little nervous. 

Tess smiled at you, her face’s shadows flickering and dancing, carving a sinister visage that you hadn’t been aware she could hold, and her voice was lower and seedier.

“We been neighbours for a while.”

You nodded, almost too politely. “Yes.”

A silence fell over the three of you, then Tess stood up and made an exaggerated stretch.

“Well, if that’s the evening, I’ve had it. I’m gonna turn in.”

She gave Joel a look and a head nod towards you, before giving you a curt smile, and leaving to head inside.

Joel’s fingers nervously strummed on his knees as he raised his brows with a tight mouthed grin, and you returned one in kind, leaving you both sitting in silence once again. You had no idea what Tess’s ominous actions were indicative of, but you could feel the nerves come off Joel in waves, and that heightened you own.

You finally decided to cut the hush between you and cleared your throat. “Ahem uh, I.. I think I should also turn in - myself… and leave, too… and go home - to my house. Over there. My house -uh, home.” Your voice was trying so hard to keep the nervous timber at bay while you motioned to your property behind the fence.

Joel looked at you wide eyed, almost scared, and his mouth opened to protest. His need to keep you there must have taken precedence over basic host etiquette because as soon as you went to stand up, Joel jumped over the firepit and sat on you, pinning you to the flimsy popchair.

You could feel his heart racing as your face was pressed against his back and you felt his whole weight on you.

“I need you - “, he huffed and you felt the vibrations from his deep voice reverberate through his back.

You stiffened. Sure, you’d watched him through the blinds in your bedroom as he mowed the lawn, and caught him running out the front door in nothing but his boxers to chase the newspaper boy who threw the morning’s paper a little too close to the bay window out front. But once he and Tess were married a few years back, you’d tried to stop because marriage had been good to Joel. His mental health and financial stability had improved, and he seemed overall a happier person. Tess made him happy and kept him taken care of and the only drawback seemed to be the effect it had on his waistline which was now pressing you uncomfortably into the creaking chair. 

“Joel - I think we shouldn’t-”

“No, please - hear me out!”

He cranked his head back to try and look at you. “I didn’t want to ask this in front of everyone and even Tess thinks this is a good idea.”

Butterflies or some other sort of fluttering insect bustled in your core, but you tried to maintain whatever decorum you could. 

“T-Tess thinks it’s a good idea?”

“Yeah, she said you’d be perfect but I didn’t want to take advantage of you.” He then sighs and finally says, “I need you to help me with my taxes.”

No more tag lists - follow @beefnotes + turn on notifications for fic updates!

Broken Hearts Mended

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader, Joel Miller x F!Reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+ Minors, get out! Language(at this rate, just expect it. That's just me), Pregnancy, Dieter trying to fix his past, sad!Dieter, dad!Dieter, smut, pinv, oral(m!recieving), wedding crasher!Dieter, TIME TRAVEL, OFC

a/n: This is for the Roll-A-Trope Challenge by @burntheedges I got Time Travel! Never dabbled with that before but it was fun and sheesh, Kate- this is the longest story I've ever written! This could be considered a part two of Some Broken Hearts Never Mend but can be read as a standalone! The OFC is based off my bestie IRL @hessofather - thank you for being you, for helping me with the witchy stuff, and love ya bitch! Thank you @beefrobeefcal and @jay-zzle(for the moodboard &) for your eyes on this one! Love you both!

Masterlist||AO3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

He’d been staring at the clock for an eternity or what felt like an eternity. Today was the day, the day Dieter’s been dreading since he found out. 

Today is your wedding day.

In typical Hollywood fashion, a friend of a friend let it slip when the wedding was. Saturday afternoon, 3 pm to be exact. Mark was supposed to be on standby to ensure Dieter stayed at home today and didn’t do something stupid, but what Mark didn’t expect was to be locked in the pantry with Dieter sitting outside.

“Dieter, come on man,” Mark pleaded, “Think about this before you do something dumb.”

“Would it really be that bad if I went?!”

“Yes,” Mark sighed, “Dieter, you need to let her go. If you go to that hotel all that will happen is you make a fool of yourself and embarrass her!”

“Embarrass her?!” Dieter scoffs, looking at the closed door with offense. “I got sober for fucks sake! For her and she didn’t even let me see my kid! Instead that bastard is playing daddy to my Lexi! My peanut!”

“Dieter!” Mark shouts, slamming his fists against the door, “Let me out and let’s talk face-to-face about this.”

“Sheesh Mark, calm down,” Dieter says, glancing at the clock, “If I go, maybe she’ll see me and remember how much she loved me. I gotta try right?”

“Dieter, please,” Mark sighs, “Don’t do this. It’s not a good idea.”

“I have to try, Mark.”

“Damn it, Dieter!”

More punches are being thrown at the pantry door as Dieter slowly backs away from it.

“If I don’t try now, I’m just going to spend the rest of my life wondering what if!” Dieter shouts, “Mark, you gotta understand that man.”

—

Dieter was able to bribe a waiter into letting him in through the kitchen, he had tried the front but the hotel staff quickly guided him right back through the front door. The place was gorgeous, decked in all navy blue, gold, and white, and the flower petals spread down the aisle he stood in front of. Joel is standing next to the officiant, fiddling with the gold cufflinks on his wrists. The bridal song began and everyone looked back at Dieter.

He stood there frozen, unsure of what to do until he heard the door behind him open, he turned slowly. There you were, standing before him in a gorgeous flowy white gown.

“Dieter?” You asked, confusion painted across your face before it turned into a silent rage.

“I- I need-“ he began, trying to think of what to say.

“Jesus Christ,” your father muttered under his breath before shouting for security.

“Wait-“ Dieter gasped, as two men in suits grabbed his arms pulling him towards the hall, “Please! Let me just ha-“

“Wait!,” you shout panicked, before clearing your throat, “Sorry everyone,” you announce, “Let me just take care of this real quick then we’ll be ready to get this wedding started.”

Dieter was dumbfounded. You were actually going to listen to him. You wanted to hear what he had to say. He knew it! He still had a chance. You let go of your dad’s arm and looped it around Dieter’s, leading him out into the hallway with a polite reassuring smile to your guests.

In another life, this would be the way it went. You in your gorgeous wedding dress, walking down an aisle on his arm, smiling politely to your guests before he whisked you away to ravish you the entire night. Once the doors closed, you stepped away from him clearing your throat.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing here?” You hiss, the rage in you tipping over its boiling point.

“I wanted to-“ he starts softly before you interrupt him again.

“Wanted what Dieter?!” You seethe, “Did you not feel it was enough when you showed up at my home? My work? Lexi’s fucking school?”

“I didn’t think-“ he winces, knowing immediately those are the wrong words with the laugh you let out.

“No Dieter, you didn’t fucking think,” you scoff, “You’ve spent the past six years not fucking thinking and it’s shown plenty!”

“Baby-“ Dieter tries again.

“Don’t you dare call me that!” You stop him, “Dieter, you need to leave. I’m marrying Joel and Lexi finally has a dad who wants her and loves her.”

“But I do love her,” Dieter says, tears blurring his vision, “That’s why I stayed away from you both. I love you both so much, I didn’t want you wrapped up in my shit and I’m trying to change!”

You shake your head with a sigh.

“You just have to give me another chance,” he whimpers, the tears steadily falling down his face.

“No,” you say quietly, “You’ve had enough chances.”

—

You were officially done with his shit and let him know he’d be hearing from your lawyers on Monday. His heart broken, his mind felt numb, and Dieter’s legs began to move. He felt like pins and needles were pricking all over his skin, trying to ignore the feeling, he began to speed up. He’d be fine as long as he kept moving. His chest felt like there was a weight on it, trying to catch his breath.

He needed to find somewhere with air conditioning, maybe it’s the heat finally getting to him. Standing outside a store called Vixen’s. Huh, he thought, a sex shop would be the perfect way to distract his mind. A dinging sound chimes as he enters the store.

“Good afternoon!” A cheery feminine voice calls out from the back, “I’ll be right with you.”

Dieter stood next to a counter, focusing on his breathing. The place smelled like sage, rose, and lavender. This was definitely not a sex shop. His hands held onto the counter in front of him as he closed his eyes and took in the sweet aroma of the shop. Whatever it was, it was working to help calm him down.

“Sir?” A feminine voice called out to him, “Ya alright?”

Dieter looked towards the voice to see a short woman with auburn hair standing next to a door that stated Employees Only. He gave a short nod, signaling he was okay. He just had to focus on his breathing.

“Fuck!” She gasped, flailing her hands in the air, “It’s you! C’mere!”

“Huh?” Dieter asked in confusion, trying to catch his breath.

“C’mere!” She said more sternly, motioning for him to follow her, “Been expectin’ you to show up any day now and you’re finally here!”

Dieter began to follow the stranger apprehensively down a hall, passing multiple doors, as she began to talk more.

“The names’ Willow Vixen. Now that you’re here, maybe I can finally stop using the rose.” She states, wrinkling her nose, “Not my favorite but that’s what the ball suggested for your arrival. Considering it doesn’t give me much of a time frame I figured fuck it and just started making sure it was around at all times.”

“Ball?” Dieter asks, his legs taking over, continuing to follow Willow until they meet a door that has her name on it, “I’m sorry but do I know you?”

“Not yet, Dieter,” Willow hums, grabbing a key ring from her belt loops, and unlocking the door, “When we get inside I’ll explain.”

Once she opened the door, he was hit with a powerful smell of sage and rosemary. She ushered him in, closing the door behind her.

“Sit,” she commanded, pointing to a table in the middle of the room.

He wasn’t sure what he was even doing here. Following a stranger into some back room of a store sounded like the beginnings of some ritual sacrifice and by the way her office was set up, it looked like it, too.

The room was dim before Willow fluttered about lighting candles while humming, beginning to shed more light on her space. He could see a table covered in an emerald green cloth with four chairs surrounding it, and a crystal ball sat upon a perch in the middle of it with dozens of candles surrounding it.

“So… uh,” Dieter hesitates, hands scrubbing through his hair. The fuck is he doing here? He should leave. Willow continues to hum while she lights more candles by a thick open book sitting on a desk, flipping through the pages before she stops.

“Ah-ha!” She announces with a joyous clap, “Would ya look at that! Found it on the first try.”

She looks up to see Dieter still standing by the door with a nervous energy about him.

“Gah damn it, Dieter,” she grumbles, approaching him, “Ain’t gonna hurt ya. I’m here to help ya. Now go on, sit,” Ushering him to the table, lightly patting him on the shoulders, “Let me just get a few more things ready before I truly start this process, alright?”

“Help me?” He asks, watching Willow move in the space around them. She grabbed a bottle and began spritzing it around the chair he sat in.

“Duh, I told ya,” Willow said with a raised eyebrow smirking, “Oh wait, maybe I didn’t? Did I?”

Dieter looked at her in bewilderment, continuing to watch as she placed the spray bottle of liquid beside him and grabbed incense instead, placing them in their holders and lit them.

“T- tell me what?” He asked nervously, placing his hands in his lap and beginning to fidget with his fingers.

“My apologies, sir.” Willow bows, “I am a witch! Well, kind of a-a witch. I’m a witch practicin’. My great great great great grandma was one and it kinda skipped a generation or two cause my folks decided we should follow Jesus instead. Ya in any sort of religion? I’ve been involved with… too many.”

Dieter shakes his head. Fuck, this is how it ends, he was right. She’s gonna sacrifice him.

“I’m spraying lavender right now to try and get your ass to calm down,” she states matter of factly picking the bottle up again, Dieter flinches when she sprays some directly onto his hair, “Your energy is thick with nerves. Now what was I sayin’?” She asked, stopping in place and staring at the table cloth.

“Oh yeah! Sorry, I have a disorder where my memory ain’t the best. Think Dory from Findin’ Nemo,” Willow smiles brightly, “I’m a witch and this here crystal ball-” she taps a finger against the clear ball in the middle of the table, “-showed me to be expectin’ ya.”

“Sh-showed you?” Dieter asks, cocking his head to the side with wide eyes.

“Yeah!” Willow exclaims, “Showed me you comin’ here, us doing some magic and then you fuckin’ off to whatever it is you’re tryin’ to change!”

“Wait,” Dieter stops, eyes widening, “What am I changing?”

“Beats me,” Willow shrugs, fanning the incense around before plopping down in the chair across from him, “Alls I know is I’m supposed to help ya get there.”

Dieter looks at her and then the ball in between them. It starts sparkling inside as the clear crystal becomes dense with a weird purple fog, swirling around the inside of the crystal.

“Oh shit! It’s doin’ the thing again!” Willow shrieks in excitement, bouncing in her chair, “I told ya the thing showed me what I needed to do! Maybe it’s trying to show you what you need to do.”

Dieter stares at the ball before the swirling fog reveals you lying in your shared bed years ago. He remembers this morning clear as day, it’s the morning before he went to that stupid party and relapsed.

“It’s her,” he chokes back a sob, “What kind of sick fucking trick is this?!”

“It’s not a trick!” Willow protests, “I’m tellin’ the truth! Just watch the damn thing!”

Dieter continues watching the fog swirl within the ball, seeing himself join you in bed. Dieter perks up as he watches himself undress you and begin worshiping you like the goddess you are. Willow clears her throat turning her head.

“Ope,” she murmurs, cheeks becoming flaming red, peering at the ceiling out of privacy, “Don’t think I’m supposed to watch this bit.”

Dieter is entranced, watching the two of you, reliving that entire day. Except in this version he never leaves the house, he stays home with you instead. That’s what he should have done, stay home and hang out with you instead of go to that stupid fucking party.

The purple fog disappears and the crystal becomes clear again, leaving Dieter even more confused.

“Wait!” He shouts, gripping the ball with both hands, “Come back! Show me more!”

“Now hold on just a damn minute,” Willow scolds, pushing his hands off the ball, “Don’t break my damn ball. It’s the only one I got.”

“But I want to see more,” Dieter lets out a pathetic whine, “How can I see more. Make it show me!” He demands.

“Not how it works, bub,” Willow huffs, “But, from the looks of it that’s where the ball wants me to send you.”

“S-s-send me?” Dieter stutters out with a scoff, “How are you gonna send me back to the happiest time of my life?”

“Time travel, duh,” Willow snorts, “The hell do you think you showed up here for?”

He looks at her with bewilderment. How the fuck is this girl supposed to help him go backwards in time?

“Now, now,” Willow says, clicking her tongue in annoyance, “I recognize that look. Ya don’t believe me,” she adds with a roll of her eyes, “I’ve got everything ready.”

She stands making her way to a small tea kettle, filling it with water from a jug before placing it on her desk beside the book. Willow moves through her office with a practiced ease, opening and closing cabinets, grabbing the things she’ll need for this ritual. Taking one last glance at the book on her desk before clearing her throat.

“Now, I’m gonna brew this tea for you to drink. It’s got some cloves, rosemary, garlic and cinnamon in it,” she explains, plunking and sprinkling the herbs in the kettle, “Oh shit!” She laughs, opening a desk drawer to pull out a small hot plate, “Ain’t gonna get very far without boilin’ it.”

Dieter watches as she softly hums, flitting about the room as the tea gets ready.

“Now, I got white sage and mullein burning already,” Willow explains pointing at each, “Helps with clarity.”

He nods, still confused and a little scared. He has no clue how this is supposed to actually work. Time travel isn’t real, this isn’t some movie like Back to the Future. Although, he thinks tilting his head, would be pretty cool to drive the DeLorean. His thoughts are interrupted by Willow chanting something over the tea right as the kettle lets out a shrill whistle. Willow pours the tea into a little cup bringing it over to the table, placing it in front of Dieter.

“Ain’t gonna lie to ya,” Willow grimaces, “Probably gonna be nasty as fuck with the herbs I had to use but it’s what the book said to use.”

“Probably not the worst thing I’ve ever ingested,” Dieter shrugs, “So how’s this work? Do I just drink it?”

Willow nods, “I said the spell, I have the scents going, all you have to do is keep an open mind,” she continues with a smile.

Dieter nods, staring at the cup. What’s the worst that could happen? His life is already fucked. At least he can say he tried if it doesn’t work, grabbing the cup and downing the drink. Willow was right- it’s rancid, he begins to cough placing the cup back on the table.

“Now what?” Dieter asks with a grimace, glancing at Willow.

“Now,” a grin spreads across her face, “We wait.”

- - -

The sun’s rays shone through the curtains causing Dieter to wince as he woke the next morning. How was he supposed to know if the ritual worked? Willow said they just had to wait. Wait for what though? Hearing a soft groan next to him he peeked one eye open at the sound, looking around he noticed this wasn’t his room. Well, more so not his room anymore. The soft yellow walls and white curtains had all been replaced after you left with dark grays.

Glancing next to him, he felt like his heart stopped. There you were, snoring softly next to him. Maybe he was dreaming and his mind decided to torture him, it wouldn’t be the first time it had happened but then you reached for him. Your hand laying on his chest above his heart. Dieter didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, shout with joy or all three at the same time. His palm reaches out, gently touching your face.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers to your sleeping form as he rubs the apple of your cheek with his thumb, “I was such a fucking idiot.”

You crinkle your nose and let out a huff as you sleep. A grin plastered across his face, he can’t believe it actually worked. If he ever sees Willow again he’s going to have to thank her. She may not know what for, with traveling back in time, but he’ll thank her anyway. 

“You’re staring,” you let out a sleepy grumble.

“Can’t help it,” Dieter whispers, grinning like an idiot. You open an eye to look at him, raising your brows.

“Why are we whispering?” You giggle, scooting closer to lay your head on his chest, listening to the thump of his heartbeat.

Dieter takes a deep breath into your hair, shrugging his shoulders, wrapping his arms around you and holding you tight. Afraid if he loosens his grip you’ll be gone again. His hands begin to roam under your shirt, feeling the softness of your skin, the roundness of your belly. You’re still pregnant, grinning to himself as he sits up and moves you to lay on your back, rubbing his hands down to your hips. You’d always complained of them hurting with the added weight of Peanut, their little Lexi who would be coming into this world.

“Mmm,” you let out a soft moan, as his hands gingerly massage your hips, your fingers digging into his thigh, “Dieter.”

He couldn’t stop smiling, unable to believe this is actually happening again. Being with you, being back in your shared home, being here during the happiest time of his life. Dieter leans over your belly, pulling up your shirt to expose your bump, placing a soft kiss there.

“I love you,” he breathes out, his voice cracking before trying to get a grip on his emotions. 

“Babe?” You ask, concern lacing your voice as you reach for him, “What’s wrong?”

“Missed you,” he says, kissing your bump again, “Both of you.”

“Babe,” you laugh, “All we did was go to sleep.”

“Yeah,” Dieter huffs, rolling his eyes, “Just went to sleep,” he hums, lifting your shirt more to uncover your breasts, his lips placing a trail of open mouthed kisses until he meets one of your nipples, sucking it into his mouth. You let out a soft hiss as your fingers tangle in the soft waves of his hair. There’s one thing Dieter knows he can’t fuck up, sex. He’ll figure the rest out later.

You moan as he spends equal time on each of your breasts, sliding a hand down your front into your underwear. Dieter lets out a groan when he feels the wetness already collected there. He needs this, to you it was yesterday, to him it’s been six years since he’s felt you around his cock.

“I need you,” Dieter grunts, pushing you on your side, flopping down behind you and pushing his boxers down. His stiff member pushing into your ass.

“Jesus, Dee,” you giggle as he quickly pushes your underwear down enough to get to your core, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Please don’t,” he whispers into your neck, slipping his length between your folds, coating himself in your arousal. Dieter grips his dick, slowly pushing into you, simultaneous moans spilling from both of you.

“Fuck, baby,” you moan, throwing your head back against his shoulder, “So fucking big.”

Dieter pants, feeling your walls constrict around him, stopping himself when he’s fully sheathed inside of you. He doesn’t want this to end before it’s even begun.

“Oh god,” he whimpers, grabbing your hand, lacing your fingers together, “Missed this.”

“Dieter,” you pant, hips squirming against him, “I need you to move, baby.”

He nods against your head, slowly pulling out, his tongue laving against your pulse point as he sharply pushes back in.

“Fuck,” you cry out, gripping his hand tighter. He knows it’s your favorite so he keeps the same rhythm, pulling out slowly before plunging back in. He can’t stop the words flowing from his mouth as he thrusts into you. His pace grows quicker as he speaks.

“Please don’t leave me,”

“I need you,”

“I love you,”

“I won’t fuck up again,”

“I promise,”

“I love you.”

Every phrase punctuated with a sharp thrust into your wet heat, producing a moan from your lips.

“Dieter,” you moan, “I’m gonna come, baby, I’m gonna-“

Dieter can feel the fluttering of your walls, gripping you tighter he moves faster, unable to control himself any longer.

“Fuck,” Dieter groans, “Look at me, baby.”

Your head lolling against his shoulder as his hips snap into you, he grips your face turning you to face him. Slotting his lips over yours, smothering your cries as your orgasm rips through you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dieter grunts, grinding his hips into you as your walls constrict around him, warm ropes of his come painting your insides. He kisses you softly while both of you try to catch your breath.

“You okay?” You ask, eyes gazing up at him.

Dieter nods, keeping his arms wrapped around you.

“Bad dream,” he murmurs into your hair.

“I’m sorry babe,” you give him a sympathetic smile, giving him a quick kiss before moving off of him with a hiss, “Wanna go look at stuff for the nursery?”

“Hmm,” Dieter hums, wrapping his arms around you again before you can leave the bed, “Let’s stay in bed all day.”

“We just woke up,” you squeak out with a giggle, as he pulls you back against him, “Already need a nap?”

“After that workout?” He laughs, kissing your neck, “Uh… yeah!”

Dieter’s eyelids are heavy. He felt calm, more at peace than he has been for years, having you back in arms, the comforting weight of you next to him. The hint of your perfume surrounding him, causing him to quickly drift back to sleep.

- - -

“Dieter wake up!” Mark shouts, “Time to go.”

Dieter jumps, how long had he been asleep? The room is dark as Mark flings the gray curtains open allowing the sun to burst in.

“What the fuck?” Dieter groans, covering his face with the pillow next to him, blocking the sun from his eyes. His sleep-addled brain hasn’t registered what’s happened.

“Come on, man,” Mark says more sternly, grabbing the covers to pull off of Dieter, “Gotta get Peanut.”

“Peanut?” Dieter asks, flipping the pillow off his face, sitting up taking in his surroundings, “No, no, no. This isn’t right.”

He looks around at the gray bedding, the curtains, the walls. Where’s your house? He was just there, wasn’t he? Was it just a dream after all?

“Yes. Peanut,” Mark says, giving him a confused look, “Lexi, Your daughter.”

“I know who Peanut is, Mark.” Dieter snaps, “But she won’t let me see her.”

“Dieter,” Mark scolds, “Do not tell me you've been using again.”

“What? No!”

“You’ve had your daughter every other week for years now.” Mark explains, “Are you sure you're not using anything?”

“You mean, I have custody?” Dieter asks, beginning to choke up, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. 

Whatever Willow did, it worked, well kind of. If Dieter had some sort of custody of Lexi that means he must have changed something going back in time.

“I gotta go see Willow.”

“Willow?” Mark asks, shaking his head, “Dieter, you don’t have time to go on some wild goose chase looking for whoever it is you’re talking about.”

Dieter rushes out of bed, grabbing random clothes he finds throughout his room to throw on, running down the stairs to find his crocs.

“Dieter!” Mark shouts after him.

“I gotta fix it, Mark,” Dieter yells back, finding his car keys, and opening the front door, “I gotta fix it!”

—

“Willow!” Dieter bellows, bursting into Vixen’s, “It worked! It kind of worked!”

He hears a crash a couple aisles over and a gah-damnit!, before Willow appears at the front of the shop.

“The hell you comin’ in here yellin’ about?” Willow asks, rubbing the top of her head, “You made me drop a jar of Dragon’s blood on my damn head. I do not need any more feminine power right now!”

“Sorry,” Dieter chuckles, “I think we need to do the ritual again. I have custody!” 

“Custody?” Willow asks, confused.

“Custody of my kid, Willow!” Dieter says, gripping her shoulders giving her a little shake, “All I did was fall asleep, had a crazy vivid sex dream about my girl and now I have custody! I’ve never even met my daughter!”

“Alright, alright, alright,” Willow says, wiggling out of his grip, “Don’t touch me and I don’t wanna hear about your weird sex dreams but come on back.”

He follows her through the dark hall, to her office, the white sage and mullein is lit, the tea is brewed while Willow chants the magic words. He chugs it again. The warm liquid tingled in his throat as it went down.

“Not as bad the second time,” he sputters out through a cough, “Should you make extra so I can take it home?”

“Not how it works,” Willow chuckles, “Gonna have to come see me. Door will always be open.”

“I don’t understand how this is working at all,” Dieter admits, “All I did was go to sleep?”

“Maybe in your sleep is when you’re traveling,” Willow shrugs, “I won’t lie, I’m not sure how it works either. Remember, I’m new at this.”

—

Dieter leaves Vixen’s, feeling on top of the world as he makes his way to your house. He cannot believe he’s about to see his kid for the first time, well maybe not the first time but it is for this Dieter. He pulls up to the address he found saved into his phone under your name, taking a deep breath before getting out of his car.

He makes his way to the front door. It’s a different house than the last time he showed up, hoping you’d forgive him for running off and taking forever to get his shit together. Taking a deep breath he presses the doorbell, hearing the chime inside.

“Daddy!” He hears screeched from behind the door before it opens. A little girl looks up at him with wide brown eyes and soft curls.

“You came to get me!” She exclaims, grabbing his hand with both of her little ones and pulling him through the entrance.

“Y-yeah, I did,” Dieter murmurs, unable to stop staring at the back of her head. Her hair bounces with every step she takes as she continues babbling at him about something.

“Hey Dieter,” you smile at him from the couch with a book in your hand, “She’s been super excited for you to get her this week. Thank you again for keeping her an extra week.”

“Extra week?”

“Please don’t tell me you forgot,” you groan, “Dee, you promised me you wouldn’t forget! This is super important! Joel’s taking me to meet his family.”

“Joel?” Dieter asks, clenching his jaw, fingers flexing of his free hand against his thigh. Of course, Joel is still present. 

You study his face, taking in the tension rolling off him in waves, putting your book down and getting off the couch.

“Peanut, baby,” you say in a sweet tone, “Why don’t you go upstairs and get your stuff ready so you can go have fun at Daddy’s?”

“Okay,” she chirps, climbing the steps to the second floor. Leaving the two of you alone.

“Dee?” You ask, approaching him, “You doing okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” Dieter lies with a nod of his head, “Just forgot you have plans next week.”

“Look,” you start, gripping his hand, “I know this whole thing is weird for you but I know one day you’re going to find someone to love,” Dieter’s thumb begins to rub against your fingers softly, noting the absence of a ring on your hand.

“You don’t get it,” Dieter scoffs, shaking his head, “It’s you. I want to be with you.”

“We tried Dieter,” you say, giving him a sympathetic smile, “We just aren’t meant to be.”

- - -

When he wakes next, Dieter is blinded by the brightness of the room, closing his eyes again, not ready to get up.

“Daddy,” a little voice says, poking his cheek with tiny fingers.

He groans feeling a weight on top of his chest. He can hear you humming softly downstairs in the kitchen, little fingers continue poking at his face trying to wake him.

“Peanut,” he chuckles, “Why are you poking my face?”

“Time to wake up!” She announces, standing up on chunky legs before plopping her butt back down. Dieter lets out a grunt before opening his eyes, spotting the soft yellow walls of the room. He can’t stop the smile forming on his face. He’s back to where he wants to be, this timeline seeming to be much better than the present.

“Come here,” Dieter playfully growls, tickling Lexi’s sides. Her high pitched squeals echoing throughout the house.

“Breakfast is ready!”

“Hear that Peanut?!” Dieter asks enthusiastically, “Momma made breakfast!”

“Breakfast!” Lexi shouts, throwing her arms up in the air, “I hungry!”

Dieter scoops her up as he gets out of bed, carrying the toddler with him down the stairs to the kitchen.

“Morning,” you hum, smiling at both of them, “The contractor was supposed to be here earlier but he overslept so said he’d be by soon.”

“Oh?” Dieter asks, setting Lexi down into her booster seat as if he’s done this every day, “Who’d we hire again?”

“Dieter, I swear,” you laugh, rolling your eyes, “You’d be so lost without me.”

“You have no idea,” he murmurs, kissing the side of your head as he grabs the plates of food you had set out, giving one to Lexi and sitting down next to her to eat his own.

“It’s Miller Bros,” you huff, “And no, they’re not like the Mario Brothers from Nintendo,” you add after seeing Dieter’s head perk up. You always were good about knowing what was on his mind.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” Dieter asks, stabbing his fork into the eggs, “Besides the contractor coming, I mean.”

“I don’t know,” you say, shrugging. The rest of the meal went on, the scraping of silverware against plates and random chatter from Lexi the only things to be heard. It was eerie how quiet you were, Dieter stared at you as you scrolled mindlessly on your phone. He can’t pinpoint what’s going on but he feels there is something different here. Lexi finishes her breakfast, scooting off her booster and running off to watch TV.

“Is everything okay?” Dieter asks, fidgeting with the fork in his hand, he can’t risk losing you but he needs to know the answer.

“No,” you admit quietly, “I just- I don’t know what to do anymore Dee.”

“What do you m-“ he tries, the doorbell chiming interrupting his sentence.

“That must be the contractor,” you sigh, “Wanna start the dishes while I get the door?”

“Uh, yeah,” Dieter nods, “Sure.”

He gathers the dishes, rinsing each item before putting them in the dishwasher, hearing you speak with the contractor.

“I’m so sorry ma’am,” the contractor says with a gruffness in his voice, “Would’a been here earlier but my idiot brother wrote the time down wrong.”

“No worries,” you reply in a cheery tone, “You deserve the extra sleep, you work so hard.”

Dieter hears a deep chuckle from the man and a thank you, you’re too kind darlin’. It makes his stomach twist, he knows who this is. Joel fucking Miller. Can he not escape this guy?

Dieter slams the dishwasher closed, pacing throughout the kitchen. In his present time, the man is there. Now in his supposed past the man shows up too?! He wishes he could call Willow but a quick google search shows that Vixen’s doesn’t exist just yet, groaning as he tosses his phone onto the counter. What is he supposed to do?

He sees through the doorway how you look at Joel, the sparkle in your eyes, the way you seem almost bashful as Joel continues to talk about the most mundane things. Dieter can’t help the idea that’s popped into his head as he makes his way to the couch, sitting with your shared daughter as she watches cartoons.

It wouldn’t be the craziest thing he suggested, he’s Dieter Bravo. He’s definitely said worse things in interviews. He continues watching the two of you, the slight smirk on Joel’s face, the shy smile gracing your own.

Maybe if you fucked Joel you’d get it out of your system.

Dieter sees the attraction to Joel, of course he does. He’s rough, burly, and has that southern charm about him. The way his shirt hugs his biceps, his jeans clinging to his thighs. Joel clears his throat and Dieter snaps his head up, finding Joel staring directly at him, having been caught ogling he can feel his face turning a shade darker. You smile at Dieter, covering your mouth while a giggle escapes your lips.

“I’m gonna get started on the bathroom,” Joel says, eyeing Dieter on the couch, “Don’t let me interrupt your morning, Hollywood,” he adds with a wink.

You make your way to the couch, curling into Dieter’s side.

“So,” you giggle, with that sparkle still in your eyes, “Joel, huh?”

“Joel,” Dieter smirks, wrapping his arm around you, nodding his head. He brings you closer to his side, kissing your temple, before he scoops Lexi into his other side, keeping both his girls close to him.

- - -

“Dieter,” Mark says, giving Dieter’s shoulder a shove, “Need to wake up, you’re home.”

“Home?” Dieter grumbles, scrubbing his hands down his face, he feels metal on one of his fingers. Eyes popping open, he spots a band on his left hand. Married. He’s married?

“Yeah, home,” Mark chuckles, “And don’t worry. I took care of everything so the three of you could spend some time together for the next couple days.”

Dieter grins, saying your name out loud quizzically, he needs to make sure it worked this time. Mark nods, he gets to spend time with his girls. His girls. Dieter hops out of the car, grabbing the duffle bag from the backseat.

“Thanks for the ride Mark,” he hollers as he makes his way to his front door, shaking with nerves as he stands there. Taking a deep breath he opens the door to find the house covered in darkness, flipping on the light he takes in the room before him. Toys, books, and small shoes scattered around. His smile grows wider as he hears a noise from upstairs.

You must be upstairs waiting for him. Dieter sets his duffle bag down next to the door before flinging his crocs off on his way up the stairs. The door of the master bedroom is opened by a jar and he can hear grunts coming from within.

Fuck, Dieter thinks, manly grunts can only mean one thing.

He tiptoes to the door opening it more, seeing you naked on your knees before Joel. His thick cock in your mouth as you bob your head faster along his length.

“S’it baby,” Joel groans, throwing his head back as you take more of him down your throat, “So fucking good at that.”

You’re moaning as he grips your head, holding you on his cock.

“Fuck,” Dieter whispers, feeling his dick twitch with interest, watching you gag on Joel’s length. Joel’s head snaps towards the doorway.

“Ya just gonna stand there Hollywood or ya gon’ join?” Joel smirks, eyeing Dieter up and down, “We’ve missed you.”

You moan, pulling off Joel's cock with a soft pop, twisting your body to see Dieter.

“Hi baby,” you purr at him, “Glad that you’re home.”

Dieter stands there frozen, watching you stroke Joel’s shaft with a sly grin.

This present time is nice, Dieter thinks with a smirk on his face, I can live with this.

What a lovely little surprise to see when I get on tumblr and actually pay attention to it for the first time in days 😍

I love them so much!!!!

time away

A seeking what is desirable drabble for anyone who has missed Naomi and Joel ♡

1.2k words, all fluff. Takes place 3ish years after the main story. Enjoy :)

“So,” Joel begins, looking up at Ellie. A clock ticks somewhere in the living room to mark the seconds going by, dragging out the time. “Dina… Dina, Dina, Dina.” Oh, look, he’s managing to stay so cool and keep it together so well, isn’t he? The man of the hour, he holds Luna’s little feet, tucked into socks with red hearts all over them, matching the ones Naomi slid across the hardwood in when she gathered her keys and wallet, running off to get groceries. He jostles them around with the pads of his thumbs on her soles. 

Ellie narrows her eyes, but her smile is impossible to stifle enough for him not to see it.

“Is she your girlfriend?” he asks, and Luna coos at him, giggling as she looks up at her father from where she lays in his lap. Little hands curl around his fingers, little feet kick at his forearms. 

“It’s…” Ellie waves. “It’s just a… A thing.” 

“Right,” Joel says then, “A thing is why you brought her home for a week over the holidays? By that logic, I guess a thing is also why you introduced her to Tommy, Maria, Kevin, my mother—”

“Don’t you have someone else’s business to stick your nose into?” 

He frowns, “Not really,” and groans as he lifts the baby to his chest before he leans back against the couch. His hand covers the entire span of her back, his thumb and pinky finger curving around her, a girl with little blonde curls all over her head and green eyes. None of his genes are anywhere in her blood, it seems. They all went to her big sister instead. “This one doesn’t say all too much, Sarah texts me every day already—” 

“I’ve always been amazed at how popular you are, Joel.”

“Right,” he grumbles, “That’s why I—”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before the door opens and Aurora storms in, little sneakers flying out in two different directions as she stumbles to take them off, one hitting the wall and the other tumbling into the dining room while she bolts towards him.

“Daddy!” 

Joel quirks an eyebrow at Ellie — he’s never felt so popular in his life. Aurora clings to his legs before climbing up onto the couch, then onto his lap, leaning against the side of his chest not occupied by her little sister. The two of them giggle, and their father’s hands are full once again, while Naomi rolls her eyes from the hallway with bags in her hands. 

“Who let you in here?” she asks, looking at Ellie and tossing her keys on the dresser. 

“I’m here to babysit,” she says with a grin, “Sarah’s coming in an hour.” 

“Babysit?”

Ellie turns toward Joel. “You actually kept it a secret, huh?” she says, and he shrugs, one cocky eyebrow lifting slightly, smug as ever. For months, he has kept it a secret, pulled his gray-faded utility pants on and left at nine every Sunday morning, with Tommy’s truck rumbling in the driveway and Naomi waving from the doorway.

“Thought we could go somewhere tonight,” he says, watching Naomi approach them, her face nothing but a flattered question mark. Their brows scrunch in the same way now, confused by the other and yet eternally amused by them as well. She lifts Luna from him and perches on the broad thigh not occupied by her other daughter, and holds their youngest against her chest while she looks at her husband. 

“Oh?” 

“Remember all those Sundays I had to spend workin’ on that project for Tommy’s client?” he asks. 

Skeptical, she narrows her eyes. “Yes?” 

“Well, I was the client, and I wanna show you how it turned out. Tonight, if you’ll let me.” 

Naomi pulls back, and Joel’s arm shoots out to yank her close to him again, holding her steady with a hand around her hip. 

“Joel—” full of disbelief, on the verge of laughter, she scoffs. 

And it’s a dangerous tone he uses when he says, “It was for you, sweetheart,” sweeping her hair over her shoulders. “Wanted to do something nice for your birthday next week.”  

Long lashes flutter while she looks between his eyes. “But Luna—”

Ellie cuts in, recounting, eyes rolling from left to right while her voice takes on a gravely edge and a familiar accent, Joel’s repeated instructions recited one by one, “Stash is in the freezer, labeled by date, these are Aurora’s pancakes, ya gotta have ‘em ready by seven forty five or she flips. Luna naps at bla, bla, bla, Ellie are you hearin’ what I’m sayin’, et cetera, et cetera. Sarah, now this is real important, okay?” 

And Naomi closes her eyes while she leans into him, presses a kiss to the side of his neck and breathes him in, pushes her forehead against his collar and looks into Aurora’s eyes across from her. Their little girl looks more like Joel than anyone else in the entire world. 

— 

Through the clearing, a black little log cabin becomes visible. Joel only lifts his hand from Naomi’s thigh when he turns the key in the ignition of his truck, and the tips of her fingers slip out from under the collar of his t-shirt to push them through his curls. 

“Joel, you cannot be—”

“Can’t be what?” he asks, turned towards her with his elbow on the console, his head tilted to the side. His eyes trace the cute little scrunch of her brows, the slope of her nose, the pout of her lips when she tries to hide her smile despite how it pushes up into her cheeks. His other hand comes to the side of her face, palm sliding along her jaw to fit his fingers around the back of her neck and his thumb on her pulse. “Huh?” he teases. 

She just shakes her head, and she’s the softest, sweetest thing he’s ever seen. 

“Come on, let me show you.” 

She jumps out with her hand in his and the door shuts behind them as he leads the way, over the gravel path towards the front door. The two floors of the cabin stand tall in front of them, and he tugs at her when she stops in her tracks, her mouth hanging open and her eyes glossing over. 

“You did this for me?” she asks, and she sniffles when she breaks into a smile, softening him, turning him into mush. 

“You and the girls,” he says, sliding his hands under her arms and lifting her up. He wraps her legs around his middle and she smothers him with kisses, smearing her tears over his cheeks and tightening the clutch of her arms around his neck. 

There’s a cabin a few feet away, and yet all she looks at is that man, the one who holds onto her by a hand on the curve of her ass and the other around the back of her neck. He is the only man in the entire world, she thinks, when he turns the key in the door and pushes it open, nods towards the little hallway and walks in with his arms around her waist, looking down at her to watch her reactions to every room, with pride swelling in his chest, about to burst. 

The back porch opens to the sight of the lake behind the cabin. Down the little stairs, there’s a dock with two big chairs and waves cresting underneath, in the golden glow of the sun setting, darkening the rustling trees around when Joel hands Naomi a plate and takes his seat next to her on the wooden swing, big enough for the two of them and their two little ones. 

It’s perfect. 

—

If this is the first time you’ve come across my writing and you enjoyed this drabble, I suggest you read seeking what is desirable in full to read Joel & Naomi’s full story, hehe <3 

Sweet Thing | Joel Miller

pairing: jackson!joel x sunshine!f!reader

rating: 18+, minors dni

warnings: jackson!joel, smut (unprotected piv), sweet pet names, sex in a semi-public spot, sort of getting caught, no specified ages mentioned. no use of y/n.

word count: 863

synopsis: the most unlikely pair in jackson just can’t get enough of each other.

divider by @saradika-graphics

“J-Joel,” You whimper, gripping onto his impossibly huge biceps. The fabric of his flannel felt scratchy underneath your desperate touch, and the scrape of the wiry hair on his jaw set your skin on fire.

His teeth nipped at your ear as the heavy drag of his cock came to a nearly unbearable halt; the deep timbre of his voice, even when it’d dwindled down to a mere whisper, sent shivers down your spine.

“Gotta be quiet, sweet thing. Can’t have anyone catchin’ us now, can we?” You bite your lip as he starts to move his hips again, slowly thrusting into you once more.

The squelching sound was so obscene that if your moans and whines didn’t give you away, your arousal would.

It was ironic that you two had found solace in each other. Jackson’s token ray of sunshine and the ever brooding Joel Miller: the most unlikely match there was. It was never meant to happen, but it just… did.

Being around Joel was easy. The man had such a soft spot for you. You’d been nothing but kind and gentle with him when everyone else was afraid. You carried a sparkle in your eye every time you laid your eyes on him, and that’s when he knew. He knew he had to have you.

If the residents of Jackson found out the both of you had been sneaking around the past few months, they’d all lose their minds. There’s no way they’d be able to puzzle together the pieces of your so-called ‘relationship’ with him, but you suspected at least Ellie had a hunch. The girl was smart and had been onto you two for as long as this had gone on.

You couldn’t help yourself, though. Being with a man that only reserved his soft side for you and his fortuitous daughter had you falling faster than you could keep up with, and at first, it truly terrified you.

You succumbed to his pure charm and good looks, though, which is how you ended up here—fucking in a broom closet in the Tipsy Bison because you chose to wear the pretty dress you found on patrol one day that Joel loved oh so much.

The slow drag of his heavy cock had you muffedly crying out his name, the feeling of it too much and not enough all at once. The man was all-consuming, invading every single sense that you had. It was intoxicating and purely addictive, and you don’t think you’ll ever get enough of him.

“Fuck, baby. Pussy was fuck’n made for me. Y’feel so goddamn good.” Joel’s words are slightly slurred behind his clenched teeth, trying to control his own sounds of pure bliss.

“Joel—” You cry again as he picks up his pace, and he has to cover your mouth with his hand because you cannot control yourself. He made you feel good in a way that nobody else ever has.

“I know baby, I know. Hush up now n’ take what I’m givin’ ya like the good girl I know y’are.” He coos, kissing your temple as he begins to thrust into you skillfully, tilting his body up so his cock hits your g-spot every single time.

Your eyebrows threaded together as your legs started to shake, your impending orgasm licking a flame up your spine as it threatened to spill over. Just like a match to a matchbox, Joel kept dragging and dragging and dragging until you lit aflame. The devastatingly delicious euphoria that ran through your body was truly unmatched as you convulsed around him, cries now muffled by his lips on yours.

His thrusts became sporadic, pulling out of you before grabbing a rag from a shelf to come onto. Not his finest moment, but he didn’t want to ruin that pretty dress of yours or leave any evidence of your intimate endeavors.

Joel cages you in between his arms as his hands rest on either side of your head against the wall behind you. He buries his face in your neck, catching his breath as he leaves tiny pecks along your pulse point. You mindlessly wrap your fingers around the back of his neck, gently dragging your fingertips against his hot skin while he took some time to recollect himself.

You giggle softly into his ear, kissing his neck once.

“That was fun.” You say, and Joel’s face moves to be in front of yours again. A rare smile curls onto his lips as he rests his forehead against yours, rubbing his nose against your own.

“My sweet girl.” He whispers with a chuckle laced into his words, kissing you once more before tucking his cock back into his jeans. He bends down to pull your panties back up and pulls your dress down past your hips, straightening you out so you don’t look completely fucked out.

Joel turns the knob to the closet, opening the door slowly.

“We gotta stop doing that in public places though, or else we’ll get caught.” You huff.

“Too late.” Tommy’s voice snaps both of your heads in his direction, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face as Joel’s burns bright red.

Shit.

tags: @party-hearses ; @ilovepedro ; @bastardmandennis ; @tinygarbage ; @nostalxgic ; @cool-iguana ; @amanitacowboy

Me, walking away from this story pleased as punch because everything about it was pure perfection

creep it real! | joel miller x f!reader

summary: a masked angel. a rugged cowboy. you're the answer to joel's prayers...until he realizes who you are.

pairing: dbf!joel miller x f!reader rating: 18+ minors dni word count: 9.7k warnings etc: [NO OUTBREAK] smut, age gap (20s/50s), dbf!joel comes with his own warning, a bad case of hidden identity leading to what one could maybe call dubcon*, semi-public sex, just a smidgen of degradation (joel calls reader a slut), brief daddy kink, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (we're living in a make believe world in this one, folks), mirror sex, creampie, use of a gag, one (1) pussy slap, spit in places it doesn't need to be, reader has hair and wears make up, hair pulling, spanking, dirty talk, pet names, alcohol, reader's family celebrates halloween, allusions to past parental trauma. no use of y/n. *reader deceives joel by concealing her identity up to the point of kissing. consent is knowingly given for everything thereafter.

a/n: for mimi @mrsquill, who gave me this idea and for being the biggest dbf!joel whore i know. happy belated birthday, angel. also thank you to @joelscruff for accidentally beta'ing this.

my kofi | updates blog: @swiftispunkupdates

It's cooler than it should be.

The end of October has brought with it a chill you don't recall from your years growing up in Texas. Or maybe it's just been too long since you've been home.

You stare yourself down the mirror of your vanity. The light blue wood of it is faded with time, sticky drawers barren save for the remnants of memories from days gone by; letters from now-dead grandparents, Polaroids with now-lost friends, empty tubes of now-out-of-fashion lipstick shades.

Everything around your reflection is the same as it was when you'd left this place five years ago, a frame of youthful innocence. The person staring back at you, however, is anything but innocent, even if she is donning the wings of an angel.

No. Surrounded by the leftovers from your childhood, the angel in the mirror is all woman.

And she looks good.

A white, boned corset hugs the curves of your upper body, pushing your tits up high on your chest and accentuating the slopes of your waist. The strapless sweetheart neckline shows off your collarbones deliciously, the long line of your neck accented by a thin, white choker. A flowing satin skirt fans out over your hips, cutting off at the midpoint of your thigh, just a hint of skin showing between the hem and the lace edge of your white thigh-high stockings.

You adjust the ribbony straps that hold the feathered, white wings in place over your shoulders, fan your hair out and tousle it slightly, testing out your very best smile before letting it fall, satisfied.

You debate whether or not to even wear the stupid mask. Gaudy and ornate, you have to admit it matches the rest of your costume beautifully, with silver gems glued to one side and a sheer, white veil that you know will conceal most of your face. Perfect for the masquerade bar crawl your high school friends are dragging you to later this evening. A bit much for your father's annual Halloween Bash you feel obligated to attend first.

Resignedly, you slip it on - practice that smile again. It's the only part of your face still visible.

Just one piece remains, sitting on the vanity, white and dainty and looking up at you somewhat menacingly. You slip the garter over your leg and wedge it high up on your thigh, concealed under the flouncy fabric of your skirt like a secret.

You take one last look at the obnoxious cleavage spilling out over the edge of the corset and decide, at least for now, to opt for modesty. You carefully remove your wings and follow the scent of naphthalene to your closet, fish out an old cardigan and throw it over your exposed shoulders. A relic from another life, it's a few sizes too small, fuzzy and a shade of ivory that doesn't quite match the perfect white of the skirt. The sleeves hit just below your elbows and the fabric clings a little too tightly to your form but it's better than the alternative.

Pearlescent buttons line its front, and you seal them right to the top, so only a hairsbreadth of flesh is poking out below the silver cross at the centre of the choker.

Better.

You slip your wings back over your arms, smooth out the straps and finally leave the woman in the mirror behind.

-

Creep it real!

The words line the banner that hangs above your father's front door, just one of many cheesy puns and hokey decorations that litter the main floor of his home.

It's too fucking much. It's always too fucking much. Your dad's favourite holiday for as long as you can remember, Halloween is always a bit of a production.

You help string cotton cobwebs from the ceilings and stick cartoonish bats to the wood-panelled walls. Your mother, dressed as the perfect Bride of Frankenstein, makes punch and fills bowls with chips and candy while your father, dressed as her perfect monster, puts the finishing touches on the lawn display, all gravestones and skeletons and intricately carved jack-o-lanterns. You watch him through the front window with a dubious smile as he gets the smoke machine going. Easily his most prized possession, it had been a lucky find at a yard sale from a neighbour who'd once worked in set direction.

It's funny how, after all these years, your parents haven't changed a bit. It's also funny how seemingly easy it is for them to pretend you hadn't left on bad terms.

"Thanks for helping out, kiddo," your dad's saying as he makes his way back inside, snatching a plastic spider, black from your hand and reaching up over your head to the corner of the window pane, lodging it into place in a tangle of cotton. "Nice to have you home."

You give him your best smile, that one you'd practiced so much it probably looks as phony as it feels.

"It's nice to be back," you tell him even though it's a lie. "Thanks for putting me up."

He frowns. "We're not putting you up; this is your home."

It's a nice sentiment but it's not really true. This hasn't been your home in years and you've been more than content to keep it that way. Even now, you've got no plans to stay beyond this weekend, already bored and tired of the life you'd left behind.

"I know it is, Dad, sorry," you amend for his benefit.

"You're a good sport stickin' around for the party, too," he adds.

"Sure," you shrug, although you're selfishly much more interested in getting to the bar and finding someone who will hopefully make it so you don't have to spend the night at your parent's house.

"I think some folks'll be surprised to see you," he goes on. "Dropped in so last minute, I didn't get the chance to tell anyone you'd be home."

Yeah - you know. It had been a somewhat intentional move on your part, knowing all too well how your parents would make a thing out of your return. Plus, you hadn't really planned to be here, either; the timing had just worked out as you'd happened to be passing through the Austin for work. It had felt almost wrong not to stop in for a few days. Try to put appearances and make nice.

"It's fine, I probably won't hang out too long anyway." Best not to get his hopes up.

He grins warmly, tells you to stay as long as you want, and then your conversation is abruptly cut off by your mother blasting 'Monster Mash' through the living room speakers.

-

Twilight fades into dusk fades into night and the party is in full swing.

The sound of music and a cacophony of voices fills the air, clinking beer bottles and thrumming bass echoing loudly in your ears where you stand against a wall, mostly keeping to yourself unless otherwise spoken to. The living room is dimly lit by a superfluous display of electronic tea lights, casting an orange glow over the crowd of faces that you assume would be familiar if they weren't obscured by smatterings of fake blood, glitter and silicone.

One figure stands out among the throng though, perhaps because he doesn't seem to have put much effort into his costume at all. The dark plaid that stretches across the expanse of his back unleashes a flood of memories (or more accurately, a distant collage of schoolgirl fantasies). You recognize him beyond a doubt, even before he turns to the side and reveals that unmistakable hooked nose and strong jaw, patchy facial hair that's a little greyer now than it was when you used to daydream about how it would feel brushing against your cheek.

Joel Miller.

Your father's oldest friend from down the road, he's broader than you remember him, thicker in the arms and midsection, the latter especially noticeable in the way his belly strains over the waistband of his jeans, confined by plaid tucked into well-worn denim, all accented by an ostentatious belt buckle. His face is partially cast in shadow by the off-white cowboy hat he's wearing, the ensemble capped off by a faded red bandana tied clumsily around his wide neck.

And fuck, if it doesn't suit him. There's something almost natural about the way he tips his hat at passing partygoers, the way he leans against the wall opposite you and hooks a thumb over the massive belt buckle, the engraved metal shining faintly in the low light. Gripping the neck of a beer bottle with his other hand, he's a man plucked straight from a Marlboro ad, even more beautiful now than the last time you saw him - years ago now.

Your heart nearly stops when his eyes suddenly flit upwards and catch yours across the room. He smirks, a lop-sided, curious thing and it's only then you realize you're fucking staring.

You avert your eyes, scan the crowd without seeing anything, only to land your gaze on him again. He hasn't looked away. You stiffen where you stand, hold his stare for a second too long. You swallow harshly and his smile widens.

Christ, you need a drink. Your heart's pounding as if there's anything more to that smile than an old family friend politely recognizing his best friend's daughter.

But then his eyes rake over your front, not-so-subtly fixating on the skin above your stockings. He tilts his head to the side, and if you didn't know any better, you'd think he were assessing. Even from here, under the low glow of synthetic candlelight, you see a muscle in his jaw click, plush lips pursing as his dark eyes trail back up your chest, landing on your masked face before he brings his beer bottle back up to his mouth and takes a long pull. His eyes don't leave your face.

Okay, maybe you're not imagining it. Sweet, reserved, respectful Joel (a single dad if your memory serves) is definitely eye-fucking you from across the room right now. In your father's home. Like he doesn't care at all that he once knew you as a child.

You resist the urge to pinch yourself.

Instead, you decide to test the waters. Bite your lip and flit your gaze to his mouth, watch him as you turn towards the kitchen and catch the moment he decides to follow.

Not imagining it.

It's lighter in the kitchen, the sound of the party dulled but not entirely silenced beyond the wall. Safer, private.

You feign nonchalance, crouching to retrieve a beer from the fridge, blissfully aware that the boots you hear against the linoleum a moment later belong to Joel without needing to look up and see for yourself.

Sure enough -

"S'a nice costume," a gruff says from behind you. You jolt upright, beer in hand, to face the source of the sound. And there's the Marlboro man in all his glory, standing in the doorway of the kitchen with a playful glint in his eye and a devilish smile plastered to his face.

You grin, cheeks warming at the way he looks you over in the light of the kitchen, brighter here than in the living room, staring at your chest as though he could see right through the thin fabric of your cardigan.

You work to play it cool, even as your skin burns under the weight of his stare.

"You think?"

You twist to the side, giving him a better view of the entire ensemble, wings and all. You figure there's no need for subtly at this point; wrong or right, the way he's looking at you now tells you he hasn't just followed you into the kitchen for a quick hello.

"Yeah, I do," he says, inching further into the room. "Go on, let me see all of it."

Jesus. Joel's apparently given up on subtly too. You suppose it could be interpreted as harmless. But then you spin for him, all the way around so the soft fabric of your skirt flutters around your thighs. You come to a stop facing him, watch his smile fade to something darker when you daringly lift the hem of your skirt to reveal the garter with a smirk.

And if there was going to be a moment for him to decide that you'd taken things too far, that would be it. But he doesn't. Instead, he stalks even closer, eyes fixed on the edge of your skirt, almost entranced in the way he shakes his head.

"So fuckin' sexy," he marvels quietly.

"Oh my god."

The words escape you almost like a laugh because there's just no fucking way. Every fantasy you've ever had is being brought to life before your eyes. A moment imagined in a thousand different ways. Joel Miller finally seeing you as an object of desire. Joel Miller undeniably wanting you.

He instantly flushes at your reaction, setting his empty beer bottle down on the counter and removing his hat to run a nervous hand through his hair. And it's the first sign you see of the Joel you think you know - polite, charming. Disarmingly good-mannered.

"Sorry, comin' on a bit strong, I guess," he chuckles. He holds his hat to his chest and reaches his other hand between your bodies. You stare at it in confusion. "I'm Joel. What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Oh."

Another involuntary reaction, whispered and soft as realization smooths across your features.

No wonder he's being so callous with his advances; Joel doesn't know who you fucking are.

Faced with a dilemma, you very quickly work through your options. You know what you should do, what the morally right decision is. You should be honest, tell him your name, remove your mask. Watch him grapple with embarrassment and politely leave you to it. You can't imagine he'd carry on with you if he had any idea you were his friend's daughter.

But then again...he already wants you. Right? And you wholeheartedly want him. So what if he doesn't know who you are? Maybe part of you likes it that way. You're not the same person you were the last time he saw you anyway.

You will tell him the truth, you decide. Just...not yet.

You take his hand in yours and shake.

"Tonight, cowboy, you can just call me Angel."

Joel grins, cocks his eyebrows and chuckles. "Oh yeah?"

You don't get a chance to respond because then he's bringing your hand up to his lips to press a soft kiss against your knuckles and the words die on your tongue, your mind temporarily going blank at the feeling of his scruff scratching at the back of your hand and his dark gaze peering up at you from under his lashes.

"Alright, then Angel."

No. You're definitely not telling him the truth yet.

He lets your hand fall and puts his hat back on before leaning an elbow casually against the kitchen counter. The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up, revealing thick forearms and tan skin. Unconsciously, you gravitate closer.

"S'quite the party, huh?" he grins, cocking his chin in the direction of the music and orange light emanating from just around the corner.

You shrug. "It's fine. I'm not staying long. Going out to a club soon."

You don't miss the way his smiles falters just the slightest bit.

"You live in the neighbourhood?" he asks. "Don't think I've seen ya around before."

"Haven't you?"

"Woulda remembered, I reckon."

You have to bite back a laugh at that.

"Well, I used to live around here, but I moved away a few years back," you shrug. It's technically not a lie.

"But you're back in town," he says. States it. Not a question.

"For now."

Joel smirks, drags his eyes over you again, contemplative. Still, no sign of recognition passes over his features, only unbridled interest that makes your cheeks burn and your mouth water.

"What made you leave?" he wonders after a moment of charged silence, his wandering gaze finally landing on the one part of your face he can see.

Now there's a loaded question. Your eyebrows shoot up your forehead as you consider how best to answer him, attempting to bide yourself some time as you ease your body closer to his with a pointed sway of your hips.

"You know, I don't really like to think about the past," you land on and right now it couldn't be more true.

Joel chuckles, brows knitting together somewhat dubiously at the response. Thankfully, he doesn't push it.

"What are you drinkin', Angel?" he asks, his eyes darting down to the beer bottle in your hand.

"Oh - beer," you tell him. "You want one?"

"Won't say no to ya," he smiles.

You turn back to the fridge to grab a bottle for him, bending at the hip rather than crouching this time, fully aware of the view you're offering him. If he reacts, you don't hear it, but when you face him again, beer in hand, his arms are crossed over his chest and his cheeks are painted a faint shade of pink.

Good.

You extend one of the bottles out to him, eyes fixed on the way his biceps strain against the fabric of his shirt. His fingers ghost against yours when he takes the bottle from your hand and it shoots an electrical tingle down your spine.

"Bottle opener's in there," you tell him, nodding towards the drawer he's currently leaning against. He follows your gaze and seems to consider moving for a moment. Then he grins.

"I got it," he says, placing his own bottle on the counter. Your brows furrow and then your jaw drops as Joel then begins to fiddle with his belt buckle, undoing the notches so it hangs loose around his waist.

Your pulse quickens and you nervously look over your shoulder, suddenly terrified of someone walking in on you.

"S'alright," Joel assures you, redrawing your attention. When you turn back to him you he's holding a hand out to you. "Let me see."

He nods towards the bottle and you silently hand it to him, entranced. Then you watch as he deftly hooks the edge of the silver buckle under the lip of the bottle cap. He flicks his wrist upwards and with a sizzling pop, the cap goes flying, landing with a quiet clang onto the tiled floor.

"Wow," you murmur, genuinely impressed and suddenly unable to tear your eyes away from his fucking crotch.

Joel seems to notice the response, taking you by surprise as he places the bottle on the counter and wraps his fingers around your wrist, gently pulling you into him. Your bodies don't touch but you can feel the heat radiating off him from here, the static buzz that fills the remaining space between you.

"Old party trick," he jokes, voice low.

You find yourself peering towards the kitchen door again. Joel notices that too.

"Hey," he murmurs, catching a finger on your chin to turn your face back in his direction. You swallow against the nerves suddenly bubbling up in your throat.

"S'this alright?" he asks as he traces his fingers up your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You nod.

"Yeah," you decide, throwing caution to the wind and pressing your hips forward till you feel the hard metal of his loosened belt buckle jutting into your stomach.

He hums, a sound deep in his chest, and it's all you can do just to stand there as he curiously runs his fingers over your shoulder, smirking as he fiddles with the feathers of your wings and inspects the costume up close, dark brown eyes scaling hungrily up and down your body. His hand moves downward then, over the fabric of your cardigan, thinly veiling the bones of the corset beneath and you wonder if he can feel them, if he knows what you're hiding when he rests his palm against your waist and pulls you in just that little bit closer.

His gaze lands on your parted lips and there's a moment of heated anticipation where you're certain he's going to kiss you, the smell of him so close and inviting.

"No halo?" he whispers instead, cocking his eyebrows and lifting his gaze to the top of your head. "Shouldn't a good little angel have a halo?"

Oh, fuck.

"Well, maybe I'm not such a good little angel," you purr, only the hint of a shake in your voice as you widen your eyes and bat your lashes for good measure. You swear you hear his breath stutter before he's shaking his head in near-disbelief. You smirk; it's exactly the reaction you'd been hoping for.

"Anyway, the halo felt like overkill," you shrug.

Joel scoffs, glancing down to grab at the fabric of your skirt. Your brain short-circuits as he hikes it up your leg, revealing the white lace garter sat high on your thigh.

"And this?" he questions darkly. "You're tellin' me this ain't overkill?"

You laugh even though it's not funny, even though arousal is steadily pooling at your core and coursing through your burning veins.

"Well, at least I put some effort in," you attempt to tease him lightly, answering the unrelenting grip he has on your skirt with a tug at the fabric of his shirt, fisting the plaid at his sides and trying not to think too hard about the fact that it's first time you've ever touched Joel Miller like this. That you're only here because of a shameful lie. "Bet you just had all this lying around the house, right, cowboy?"

Joel's lips twitch and he watches in wonder as you reach up and grab the cowboy hat off his head, planting it atop yours with a wink. Joel snakes a hand behind you to tip the rim back, showing him more of your masked face as you stare up at him expectantly.

"Now that's pretty," he marvels softly and then he's entwining a hand around the back of your neck and leaning in closer and there's no mistaking it now; he's going to kiss you and you want so badly to kiss him back but -

"Not here," you stop him with a firm hand on his chest. You don't know what the fuck you're doing, but it can't happen in your parent's kitchen. You give him his hat back and he groans as he yanks you in closer when you try to pull back.

"What exactly are we doin', honey?"

"Just come with me?" you suggest breathlessly, untangling yourself from his grasp and grabbing him by the hand. He doesn't argue, just nods and lets you lead him out of the kitchen. You cautiously watch your back, make sure no one sees you dragging Joel Miller up the carpeted stairs and into the concealed darkness of a second-floor hallway.

There's a beat as you size each other up, eyes adjusting to the lack of light. Then Joel is crowding you against the wall, his gaze flitting over your masked face curiously.

You know in that moment the question he's asking. And you know in that moment what your answer should be. Take off the mask. Tell him the truth. Watch him walk away.

But instead, you hook your fingers into his belt loops and tug him into your body, crane your neck upwards and whisper, "Kiss me," praying to the heavens above you'll be forgiven for this.

You'll tell him. You'll tell him.

But right now you just want to kiss him.

Joel exhales sharply, hums a quiet assertion and then he's crashing his mouth into yours. Your head hits the glass of a framed photo behind you, a sting quickly remedied by the feel of his lips moving on yours, his hands cupping the sides of your face with a tenderness you wouldn't have expected.

His kiss is far from tender though, and for that, you're grateful. It's rushed and breathy, toothsome when his tongue invades the space between your lips. He tastes like beer and mint, and the masculine scent of his skin takes up the air around you as his broad frame encages you against the drywall. Your mind goes blank with the headiness of it, the coarse drag of his moustache along your skin soothed by the plush softness of his lips. Dreams of how that aquiline nose would feel bumping into yours, material at last.

His hands move lower then, traversing the line of your body, making you moan into his mouth while his touch ignites a fire inside you. You don't think, just impatiently begin to unbutton the pearly confines of your cardigan to reveal the corset beneath.

Joel breaks the kiss to glance down at your exposed chest and groan, his upper lip curling at the sight. His hands hover over the scratchy fabric, fingers twitching with another endearing flash of uncertainty. You stamp it out with an overly-confident graze of your palm over the bulge in his jeans, grinning when it makes his breath hitch, when you realize with a sick sense of triumph that Joel Miller is hard for you.

"Shit," he curses softly as he watches your hand work over him and you feel his cock come alive under your touch.

"Touch me, Joel," you quietly plead when his eyes finally find yours again.

He shakes his head.

"Wanna see you," he insists breathlessly, reaching up to toy with the edges of your mask.

You let your hand fall from his cock to swat his fingers away. Joel frowns.

"Where's the fun in that?" you ask innocently.

"Well," Joel hums, ducking forward to press his lips into the space below your ear. "I usually like knowin' who it is I'm about to ruin."

An involuntary shiver courses through you and when you speak, it's with a shake.

"You want to ruin me?"

His low chuckle echoes into the hollow of your ear while his teeth graze gently over the lobe. "Ain't that what you want, Angel?"

Oh, god. Fuck it then. It's now or never.

In a flash of movement, you tear the mask off your face and quickly clutch at Joel's curls, pulling him back into a bruising kiss before he can properly take you in. You take charge as best you can, languidly licking into his mouth and pressing your hips forward till they collide with his. Joel's response is swift, his arms wrapping around you and holding you prisoner against his body while his tongue begins to dance messily with yours.

And fuck, it's perfect. Your hips grinding against his is an almost unconscious thing, pure hunger taking over every other emotion until you feel it.

The way his body goes rigid and his lips still on yours.

Then the sudden, quiet grunt of protest against your mouth that has your eyes flashing open in response. It takes your brain a second to catch up, to notice that he's not looking at you but rather something right behind you.

Only then he does look at you and at last you see it click.

"Fuck - wait," Joel gasps, prying your mouths apart and pushing himself off you with two firm hands on your shoulders. Pathetically, your lips chase after his.

"Joel - " you whine, attempting to yank him back, clutching at the fabric of his shirt. But those firm hands encircle your wrists and tear you away, forcing space between your bodies.

"You..." Joel shakes his head, glancing between you and whatever he's seeing behind you, his expression some mixture of shock and outrage. You peer over your shoulder and finally understand; your high school graduation photo is tacked on the wall beside your head, the beatific smile of a younger, more-optimistic you staring you both down in the quiet darkness of the hallway.

You sigh exasperatedly. "Joel, it's okay. It's fine."

"It ain't - " Joel scoffs lightly and drops your wrists, steps back out of reach. A painful knot of rejection curls in your stomach, made worse by the burning heat of guilt over your stupid, stupid lie. "It ain't fine."

"Joel, please, you wanted me just a second ago," you whisper and you hate that it sounds so broken, so needy. Your words seem to affect him though, his features softening into something almost pained. "Please, I-I'm not some little girl anymore."

His jaw tightens, conflict etching the weathered lines of his face. "I don't think that's how your old man would see it."

"You think I give a fuck what he thinks?" you demand, stepping forward. He doesn't touch you, but he doesn't move either. You sigh.

"You asked why I left town."

Joel frowns. "Yeah?"

"It's because of him, Joel. Both of them," you nod in the general direction of the stairs, to the place where music is thrumming and your parents are obliviously mingling. "I mean, we - we hardly even speak. You have no idea what they put me through."

Joel's eyes stay fixed on the stairs, to the light of the party shining up from below. You see it clear as day - that part of him telling him to run as fast as he can from this. But he doesn't. So you go on.

"They don't know me, Joel," you insist, reaching out to wrap your fingers around his wrist. He turns back to face you and that pained look is back in his eyes. But he's drifting closer to you, hands stretching out in front of him like he wants so badly to touch you.

"You don't know me either," you breathe and at that, Joel scoffs. The pained look on his face gives way to something else and there's a shift behind his eyes as he frees his wrist from your grasp to press his hand into the wall beside your head.

"Actually, I think I do, little girl," he spits, leaning in close, the change in atmosphere taking you aback as your heart pounds violently in your ears. "You think I didn't hear it all from him? All your sneakin' around and actin' out? Runnin' away at eighteen? I know you."

"Who did you think I was running away from?" you bite back, petulant.

Joel shakes his head and chews on the inside of his lip, but you can see it, see the way his resolve is fading before your eyes.

"You're just - you're just a kid. He's my best friend."

You scoff.

"I hate him, Joel."

His eyes narrow and the sound of your pulse in your ears is almost deafening as Joel takes up all the space around you, something darker taking over his gaze, something menacing and delicious and promising.

"You know, that really ain't no way to talk about your daddy," he snarls.

You should flinch away from that tone, shrink and recoil from its threatening edge, its condescension. Instead, you gravitate towards it like a magnet, something warm and achy pulsing between your legs at his words.

"Maybe you need a little discipline," Joel grits out, grabbing roughly at your waistline, other hand still braced against the wall beside you.

And - oh. That really shouldn't turn you on as much as it does. Petulance quickly fades and you find yourself nodding frantically, overwhelmed as arousal swiftly burns through you, when you realize what you're on the precipice of.

"Maybe, I do," you breathe, crashing your pelvis forward into his and craning your neck up higher so your mouths are only an inch apart. Joel doesn't back away anymore. "Are you going to put me in my place, Joel?"

At that, his head falls forward and he's whispering, Goddamnit but it's too fucking late now.

Because his strong hands are clutching at your face as he presses his body weight into yours and he kisses you again, hungrier now and decidedly rougher. You whimper as his mouth moulds into yours, his hands moving to draw the silken fabric of your skirt up your thigh. His knee invades the space between your legs and forces them apart, while his lips greedily begin to trail below your jaw, sucking and nipping at the delicate skin of your neck. You curl your leg up over his waist and pull his body in closer, grind your clothed heat into the strong muscle of his thigh and hear him groan into your skin.

You claw at his back, clutching him to you as he plunges a hand between your thighs and cups your sex through your panties. The lacy fabric, wet with your arousal, scratches dizzyingly against your folds and your head falls back into the wall with a strangled sigh.

"This what you want?" he coaxes, strumming at your clit over your underwear.

"Yes - yes, Joel."

He bites down on your clavicle, pressing harder against your pussy, the tips of his thick fingers moving lower to brush your clothed entrance and cloud whatever is left of your judgment as you melt into his touch.

"Beg for it," he growls, taking you by surprise yet again. His free hand grabs you firmly by the jaw, and when his eyes find yours, there's a desperation burning in his blown-out browns, the lewdness of his request dulled by the impression you suddenly get that he needs to hear you tell him you want it. "Beg."

You don't deny him.

"Please, Joel," you plead pathetically, wriggling on his fingers and clutching desperately at fistfuls of plaid. "Please don't stop. I want this. I want you."

"Yeah?"

In lieu of an answer, you very quickly make a decision. Perhaps the stupidest of your life.

You bite your lip and unravel yourself from his embrace, tugging him hurriedly down the hall to your bedroom before you can think any better of it.

You pounce on him the second the door is locked behind you, throwing your arms around his wide neck and knocking his hat to the floor as you kiss him with newfound fervour.

"What're you doin'?" he demands but his hands are warm at the small of your back, holding you close.

"I said I want you," you repeat, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. Joel swats your hands away, tearing his mouth from yours abruptly.

"Here?"

He glances around the room, seemingly well aware you've led him directly into your childhood bedroom, eyes raking over the juvenile details that remain here; flouncy wallpaper and patterned bed sheets, *NSYNC posters and a corner full of discarded stuffed animals.

You palm at his cheek to redraw his attention, marvelling at the feel of his scruff beneath your fingers.

"Here," you assert.

Joel sighs, long and ragged, almost tortured as he quietly curses under his breath. You stare back at him dolefully, daringly ducking forward to kiss the corner of his mouth and run your fingers through his greying curls.

"Fuckin' Christ," he snarls.

All hesitance fades as his fingers coil firmly around your wrists, pinning them to your sides and guiding you into the room till your lower back hits the edge of your vanity.

"Angel, my ass," he grits, big hands meandering below the hem of your skirt, stealing your breath as he hooks his fingers under the lace edge of your panties. "You're a bad fuckin' girl, aren't you?"

You barely manage a soft, "Mhmm," before he's shimmying your underwear down your legs, taking care not to disrupt the garter around your thigh. He encourages you up onto the vanity, trinkets and make-up and perfume bottles clattering underneath you as you spread your legs for him and wrap them around his waist.

"Wanna taste you," he whispers urgently, like he's afraid he'll change his mind. You shudder as he ghosts his lips down your chest, laying open-mouthed kisses over the exposed skin above your breasts.

"Oh fuck," you whine as Joel falls to his knees between your legs and pushes your thighs further apart, making space for those broad shoulders. He positions your left leg over his shoulder and hooks his arms beneath your knees, dull fingernails digging into tender flesh. "Please."

"Shut up," he growls as his teeth come down on the skin of your inner thigh, chastising. And you know he's right, know you have to find the will to stay quiet. You curl your bottom lip between your teeth and let your head fall into the mirror behind you while Joel hungrily kisses his way closer to the apex of your thighs, groaning when he tastes the sticky slick that's already begun to coat the skin there.

You're throbbing - aching - for him to touch where you need it most and Joel doesn't tease you for long.

"Pretty fuckin' cunt," you hear him say and then his tongue is swiftly licking through the seam of your folds, sending an electric shock through every nerve in your body. Your mouth falls open in a gasp but Joel doesn't give you a chance to catch your breath, closing his lips around your clit and sucking harshly before pulling back with a lewd smack.

Your fingers are in his hair then, desperate to force him back onto you. Joel chuckles, glancing up at you with pink cheeks and wet lips.

"When's the last time someone ate your pussy, sweetheart?"

Too fucking long, you want to say but your brain can't form the words so instead you just whine and furiously shake your head from side to side.

"Oh, she's a needy thing, ain't she?" Joel murmurs darkly, eyes glinting with lust. "Been that long, huh?"

Now you nod, biting down harder on your lip to stop yourself from begging. Though Joel seems determined to make you.

"Poor little pussy," Joel says, making you shudder as he frees one of your legs from his grasp to press two fingers against your folds. He caresses you, languid swipes over your aching hole and your puffy clit, spreading your arousal tortuously till you meet his gaze, pleading.

"Please," you finally break, voice cracked. Joel smirks, triumphant.

"There she is," Joel smirks. Then you watch as he parts your lips with two fingers, exposing you fully to him before spitting onto your clit. Your eyes widen and you squeal at the sensation, watch him marvel at the sight of his own saliva mixing with your arousal as it drips down to your cunt before he catches it on his tongue and begins to devour you.

And fuck - the urge pinch yourself returns full force. Joel Miller, a man you've known most of your life, consumes your pussy like it's his last meal on Earth.

His mouth is hot and wet, eager with his efforts as he sucks and puckers over your folds. He teases you with his tongue, fucking it into your tight hole and making you writhe beneath him. Joel hums approvingly at the response, sending a fresh wave of sensation searing through you as you curl your leg around his shoulder and pull him in closer. His nose bumps against your clit and it's so good but it's not enough; you can't help it. You whine, high-pitched and broken as you wriggle your hips in search of more.

"Quiet now," Joel chides you, using the hand he'd been using to part your folds to lay a swift slap against your pussy. A wet smack fills the room and you arch your spine at the sudden, harsh contact on your sensitive cunt. Your knees instinctively come together but Joel holds them firmly apart, already diving forward to lap at your core once again.

You hiss through clenched teeth, nearly falling apart completely when he at last begins to carefully circle your clit with the tip of his tongue. Tight, practiced, impatient swirls that make your vision blurry and your toes curl. Your fingers slacken in his curls as you give in to him, let the sweet ministrations of his tongue bring you closer and closer to the edge.

Wetness gathers at your core when he flattens his tongue and lets you grind lazily against it, another quiet hum of approval encouraging you as a knot of pleasure begins to pull taut at your insides.

"More," you find yourself moaning softly.

You can feel his smile against you. "Yeah?"

"Please," you keen, rutting up into his mouth, not even entirely sure what it is you're asking for. It's so hot in here you can hardly think straight; your skin burns in the confines of your bedroom, under the heat of his mouth, layers of fabric and feathers clinging sticky to every part of you.

Joel cocks an eyebrow at you. "You gonna keep that pretty mouth shut?"

"Yeah - yes, I will, I promise," you ramble, grabbing wildly for his wrist, guiding it towards your centre.

"You want my fingers?" he asks like he doesn't already know.

"Please."

He shoos your hand before you can even get the word out, pinning it on the vanity beside you before sinking a thick finger into your heat, grunting as the warm, wet of you engulfs his digit. The back of your head collides with the glass behind you as Joel begins to fuck his finger in and out of you, quickly adding a second. You keen at the stretch, some strangled noise getting stuck in your throat as Joel chuckles lowly.

"You like that," he comments matter-of-factly as he hooks his fingers inside you and nudges at a spot seldom found by boys your age.

"Joel!" you gasp, too loud, and the fingers he has curled around your wrist tighten, a warning. You curse yourself, covering your mouth with your free hand in an attempt to contain the noises threatening to claw their way out of way.

Joel doesn't seem to be paying much attention anyway, enraptured as his mouth finds your clit again, fingers still working you open in shallow thrusts and beckoning little motions. His tongue flicks and sucks at the bundle of nerves and you don't know when or how but the hand that conceals your lips falls to clutch as his curls again, your hips grinding into his hot mouth and pushing his fingers deeper. You're so close now, can feel release ready to snap inside you.

"M'gonna stop f'you don't shut up," Joel murmurs against you, muffled wetly into your heat.

You hadn't even realized you'd been making any sound.

You think you whisper, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry but you don't know for sure because then Joel is pulling his fingers from you and gripping your ass under your skirt to hold you flush against his face, softly moaning around your clit as he laves at you, his tongue and mouth insistent, greedy.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," you're chanting and Joel hums a noise that sounds like a question as his eyes flash up to meet yours. You can only moan and nod, telling him without words, don't stop, don't stop, don't stop before your muscles tense and you're coming with such force your entire body preens with it, spine arching and slick pooling where his chins meets your pulsing core.

Joel eats you through it, offering no reprieve even when you begin to squirm and flinch with the come down, stars still bursting behind your eyes.

"Joel, fuck," you whine when it begins to feel too much. "Can't - "

He grunts, finally detaching his mouth from you. You shiver at the loss of his warmth, cry out without meaning to when he licks a parting stripe through your sensitive folds.

When your vision refocuses, you find he's staring up at you wrecked, pink lips swollen and slick staining his cheeks and chin. There's something else there too - that stupid, pained look, that unmistakable conflict.

"Goddamn," Joel groans softly, turning his face to bite at the garter around your inner thigh.

"Joel, it's okay," you find yourself saying. You grab at the bandana around his neck, try to force him to look at you again. "Fuck me. Please. I want you to fuck me."

Joel sighs, shallow and tight, shakes his head against your leg. "You're bad fuckin' news, kid."

You can't contain the smile that spreads across your face at that. "But you want me, too? Right?"

You pet his scruff till he finally meets your gaze. There's a resignation there, in that tortured stare he gives you. But there's also lust. Wanting. He wants you.

He nods.

"Then take me," you tell him.

There's a final moment of pause, of hesitance, as Joel looks over his shoulder towards your bedroom door. You follow his gaze, pussy aching with emptiness. Joel considers the door for a moment, then looks back at you, staring at him beseechingly.

Please don't leave now, you plead with your eyes.

Joel sighs and shakes his head. You watch with curious fascination as he then begins to tug at the bandana around his neck, loosening it enough to lift it over his head.

"Sit up," he orders you, and you do, Joel moving to stand over you. You can see how hard he is now, cock straining against the zipper of his jeans. He doesn't let you ogle for long though, tilting your chin up with a strong hand under your jaw and smushing your face under his calloused fingers as he hinges down to kiss you. You taste yourself on his tongue when he forces it into your mouth, his kiss all spit and slick and commanding dominance before he pries you off him.

"You're gonna behave," he tells you simply. Not a request, but an order as he drops his hand from your face.

"Yes, daddy," you say coyly with a big, toothy smile and Joel groans, exasperated. It makes you giggle.

"Christ," he growls with a shake of his head. "'Course you're one of those. Turn around."

He doesn't wait for you to obey, rather, he manhandles you down off the vanity and spins you away from him, bringing you face to face with your own reflection before a firm hand between your shoulders is pushing you down into the faded blue wood.

You go perfectly still, waiting, feeling the rough drag of denim against the back of your thighs and the hard metal of his belt buckle digging into your flesh. But Joel's not done.

He tugs at the straps of your wings, wriggling you loose from them along with your cardigan and leaving them discarded on the floor, all traces of innocence abandoned.

"Fuck," Joel breathes, eyes flitting wildly between the you before him and the you in the mirror, running a hand roughly down your spine, grabbing at every ridge and curve before landing on your hip and pulling you into him.

"Joel..." you whine and then you jolt, gasping when the tender hand on your hip makes harsh contact with your ass.

"What'd I say?" he chides you.

Before you have time to react, he's moving over you, leaning in close so his lips are right at your ear.

"You're gonna behave," he repeats. You nod but it makes no difference because then there's a flurry of red in the mirror, as Joel slips his bandana over your head. With rough but certain fingers, he tilts your chin upwards and hooks his fingers under the fabric.

"Open," he tells you and your lips part without argument.

You watch him in the mirror as he then pulls the makeshift gag up over your chin and forces it into your waiting mouth, soft, washed cotton pressing down on your tongue and scratching at your molars with how far he pushes it in.

"Bite down," he says and you do, lips straining around red, compelling you to breathe through your nose so all you can smell is the masculine scent of him embedded into the bandana's fibres, woodsy and salty and all-encompassing.

"Good girl," Joel offers and your eyes flutter at the praise. "God, look at you. Look."

His hand in your hair tugs your neck up, giving you no choice but to appraise your reflection as he hikes your skirt up to your waist and begins to unzip his jeans behind you.

You have to admit you look a mess, hair tousled and mascara smudged around your eyes, your mouth stretched obscenely around the bandana, involuntary drool already turning red to dark brown. If you'd thought the person staring back at you in this very same mirror was all woman before, now she is all girl, all mouldable and pliant and dutiful. All Joel's.

Your pussy clenches around nothing and you moan at that thought, impatiently pushing back into him when you hear the metallic clang of his belt hitting the floor.

"Yeah - gonna fuck you now," Joel vows, pressing down between your shoulder blades so your chest is flush with the vanity. Again, he yanks at your hair to keep your eyes up, keep you focused on your reflection when the hard line of cock notches at your entrance. "Watch."

You do watch, watch him as his brows furrow and his nose scrunches in concentration, staring at the place where your bodies are nearly connected before spitting a slow stream of saliva down on to your already drenched hole. He runs the tip of his cock up and down through your folds and you feel like you might go insane with want until finally, finally, he begins to sink inside with a hushed groan.

Your hands brace against the edge of the vanity as you writhe at the stretch, the burn of him filling you. It would almost be too much, you think, if the twinge of pain you feel at the intrusion wasn't one you found so delicious, wasn't a reminder that you don't think you've ever had something this big inside you before.

"Tight little pussy," Joel mutters through gritted teeth, voice strained. "Fuck me."

You whine, wish you could repeat his words right back to him. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me.

"What?" Joel goads, bottoming out inside you, stilling with two firm hands on your waist. "What do you want?"

You can only wiggle your hips and moan softly, a silent plea. Joel chuckles once.

"Yeah, I know," he purrs and then at last, Joel Miller is fucking you.

He wastes no time, starting a hurried pace, accented by the dull smack of skin on skin and laboured grunts passing through Joel's teeth. The vanity shakes beneath you, and you wish the rush of panic you feel at someone downstairs possibly hearing its incessant scraping against the hardwood didn't make your head spin with arousal, but it does. Or maybe it's just Joel's thick cock pounding into you, nudging at your cervix with each unforgiving stroke.

"This is what you needed, huh?" he's murmuring, voice low and dark. "A big, fat cock fillin' you up?"

Oh, god. You nod, whine around the gag, find his eyes in the mirror again and your knees go weak at the sight of his form looming over yours, the collar of his shirt askew, sweat dampening his forehead.

"Yeah? Dirty - fuckin' - slut."

You keen at that, push back into the place his hips meet yours and moan. Slick dribbles between your thighs and your pussy flutters around his length and of course, of course Joel notices the response.

"Oh - you like that, don't you?" he grunts, tugging at your hair once again and making your spine arch for him.

"Look," he repeats, coaxing you to lock eyes with your own depraved reflection, a fallen angel spilling out of a corset, willingly split open by her dad's best friend. "Look what a bad girl you grew up to be."

Another muffled moan is swallowed by his bandana, his words sending a lick of heat down your spine as something wild and heady begins to scratch at your nerves. His frame engulfs yours again, lips back at your ear as he whispers,

"Daddy's cock'll fix you."

Oh fuck. Your eyes roll back into your skull and you think you hear him laugh, a mocking sound that only drives you crazier, only makes your brain go foggier when he pulls back and clutches at your hips, fucking you so hard you feel tears prick at your eyes and a tightness start to build in your core all over again.

"Yeah, that's right," Joel rasps softly, breathless. "You wanna be good, don't you? Wanna be a good girl and come again for daddy? Go on, baby - come on daddy's cock."

You want to - fuck, you want to come again. You want to be so, so good for him. To show him you always could be. Your eyes begin to flutter closed as you crane onto your tippy toes to take him deeper, feel the drag of him against the sweetest part of you, hurtling towards release with each thrust of his hips against yours.

"Don't," Joel orders you, tapping your cheek with gentle intent till you open your eyes. "Want you to look at yourself when you come on my cock."

You immediately flit your gaze up to meet your reflection, see your cheek pressed into wood, eyes wet and mouth full of fabric. You barely register Joel reaching around you to toy sloppily with your clit before you're falling apart, coming with a silent scream and clenching down around his length.

"Good girl," Joel grants you raggedly as your body quivers under his and then goes limp, waves of your come gathering around his girth and dripping down his balls. "Fuck - that's so good, baby."

Joel fucks you relentlessly as your second orgasm crashes over you, chasing his own high as he begins to ramble wildly under his breath, his voice echoing hollowly in your pleasure-drunk mind as though he were speaking from very far away.

"Gonna fuckin' ruin you, baby girl. Gonna use this little pussy up. You're not gonna wanna take another cock for weeks."

You whimper tiredly, nod obediently. You're not sure you want to take another cock besides his ever again.

"Maybe I'll send ya out to that club with my come drippin' outta ya."

And you know it's stupid and careless and wrong to want that but you make a noise that sounds like yes please all the same. Joel groans.

"Say that again?" he presses you, the rock of his hips coming faster, more erratic.

Yes please, you try again, words turning into mumbled nothings against the gag.

"Shit," Joel curses lowly, and you're jolted back to almost-reality when he forcefully tugs the bandana from your mouth and air fills your lungs in a cool rush. "One more time."

"Please," you say, voice broken and hoarse. "Yes, please. Come inside me."

You think you catch him smirk in the mirror but it's quickly replaced by something else entirely, his jaw slackening as his breath begins to stutter and his chest begins to heave, a whispered chant of, oh shit oh shit oh shit your final warning before he's spilling deep inside you.

He hardly makes a sound as his big hands come down on the vanity beside your head, thick arms all around you as he pumps his load into you. He's biting down hard on his lower lip, doing a far better job of staying quiet than you are, tired little whimpers pouring from between your lips until he's folding over your back and covering your mouth with his palm again.

You stay like that, your breath hot against his hand and his lips in your hair, until he's emptied himself completely. He frees your mouth once it's over but stays glued to your back, a heavy weight above you as both your breathing levels out.

You both shiver when he pulls out, and there's a softness in the way he tilts your face towards his now, in the way he lazily licks into your mouth at the same time that his fingers reach between your bodies to catch the come dripping out of you and push it back inside.

Eons seem to pass before he's sighing and hoisting himself off you with a gentle, "C'mon, baby." He taps your sides as he steps away but you stay where you are. You're not sure you have it in you to move just yet.

You hear the buzz of his zipper and the clang of his belt buckle and then his hands are on you again, tentative as he pulls your skirt down over your ass and smooths out the fabric.

"Hey," he murmurs, and you're pleasantly surprised at the feel of his lips pressing sweetly into your upper back. "Come on."

He tugs at your arms, gently helping pull you upright and sighing again as he takes in the sight of you. You smile, almost bashful about it, Joel carefully lifting the bandana up over your head and adjusting your hair for you with a sigh. He crouches to retrieve your cardigan and fits it back over your shoulders before slipping you back into your angel wings.

"Look up," he says, and you do as he says, holding perfectly still as he rubs his thumbs under your eyes, caressing away drying tears and smears of black make-up.

He tuts.

"You might wanna..." He makes an errant gesture with his hand at your tarnished visage, and you understand.

The ridiculousness of it all seems to catch up with you then and you giggle breathily, shaking your head as if to wake from some perfect, lucid dream.

"Thanks," you tell him. "Joel, I'm - I'm sorry for lying to you."

Joel licks his lips and you think for a moment he's going to tell you off, scold you like you probably deserve. But then he grins and there he is again - the Joel you remember from before.

"Guess I can't really complain," he concedes, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. "You're, uh - you're somethin' else, sweetheart."

You smile and Joel sighs, finally letting his hand fall. You watch him as he finds his hat, warming when he stops to kiss your cheek before making his way towards the door.

"Wait," you call quietly after him. "So would you...do you wanna do this again? While I'm in town?"

There's a lengthy beat of nervous uncertainty and then Joel laughs. He shakes his head and stares at the floor as he readorns his hat, finally turning to face you with one hand on your doorknob.

"You're gonna be trouble, aren't you, Angel?"

You smirk devilishly back at him. "You're damn right, cowboy."

You offer him a parting wink that has him shaking his head for the millionth time as he slinks discreetly out the door, closing it behind him and leaving you alone with the woman in the mirror.

The father-daughter relationship I want to have 😪

The Only Source of Light || Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: As you return home from the job you were involved in, you realize how much Joel feared losing you

Warnings: none

Word count: 1207

Authors: Cass & Fenrir

After throwing your backpack on the ground and closing the door, you sighed loudly. It was nice to be back home, but you felt like crap. You had dirty clothes stuck to your body. There were a number of problems with the job. The only thing you dreamed of was taking a shower. Announcing your successful return, you shouted, "I'm back... Still alive!"

Joel's exhausted state made him appear limp like wet laundry on a cold, still day. Every muscle in his body seemed to be giving way to gravity. The man wanted to sleep, to be warm in his bed, and to have a good night's sleep. Rather, he had chaos both outside and inside the shared space. 

He nodded briefly at you, his bearded face displaying a look of tiredness. His politeness began to wane. "What the fuck, Y/N? Where have you been?" The stain on the leg of your jeans caught his eye. "What's that?"

"It's nothing," you said, shook your head, and went to the bathroom to wash yourself and remove dirty clothes.

There was no doubt that Joel would not give up and follow you there. "What happened?"

You groaned before removing your shirt and tossing it to the side. "Jesus, some privacy, please! The job got messy, so I had to shoot. Nothing bad happened."

Leaning casually against the door frame as you changed, he paraphrased, "Job got messy, I got shot. I've seen all that before, so don't be prude. Mind if I check this wound?"

"Mind if I change and clean myself up a little before we start?"

With an eye roll, Joel turned on his heel and hurried to the kitchen to retrieve the whiskey glass he had started before your return.

"Thank you!" You yelled after him, and you began to wash yourself as much as you could. You changed into more comfortable pants and Joel's flannel.

Leaning one hand against the counter, he glanced at you as you entered the kitchen. "Y/N, I am very particular with my words, aren't I? I warned you to be careful."

"I was careful. Things can get messy, you should know this." As you spoke, you hopped onto the counter and stared at him. "I am fine. Really."

As he approached you, he shifted another glass filled with alcohol along the counter for you to take. "The fact that things get messy is not an excuse for getting hurt so easily," Joel snarled a little, downing his glass.

"Do not treat me like a child. You get hurt too, and I do not lecture you." Accepting the glass with a smile, you took a sip while grimacing. The taste of alcohol was never appealing to you.

He didn't say anything more, just stared at you for quite a while before putting the glass into the sink. "Did you sell everything?"

Before taking another sip, you answered, "Everything, somehow. After being away for so long, I couldn't wait to get home."

Joel reached into one of the cabinets and pulled out a small plastic bag. "I think we still have some painkillers here," he said, pulling two pills out and handing them to you. "I want to see that leg, too."

You took the pills before showing him your leg, joking, "I think you saw it plenty of time." The wound wasn't serious, and you patched it up right away.

His brow cocked as he inspected the wound carefully. "Just a little graze, isn't it?" As it turned out, it was not deep, but rather superficial, so Joel reluctantly agreed with you.

"It was patched as soon as I could. You don't have to worry. I am a big girl."

Joel decided not to argue with you, so he only nodded. "It's going to be a long and hard day for us tomorrow, so come rest."

"Wait?" You asked, raising an eyebrow. "Why will it be difficult?"

"There is something we need to do on behalf of Marlene."

Then you shook your head, groaning. "No. C'mon, Joel! I just came back. All I need is rest," you sighed. "And her? Really?"

He picked you up and carried you to the bedroom saying, "I trust her. Sort of."

Surprised, you grabbed onto him. "Well, sort of doesn't really make it better, does it?"

"You need to trust me, Y/N."

"Well, I can try, but I need to know what I'm getting into right after returning."

You were placed on the bed and the pillow was improved for you by him. "We're going to smuggle something outside of Boston."

"Oh, I see. So? It's business as usual," you nodded, getting comfortable on the pillow. "But you've always done it alone. Why do you need me this time?"

"I've got a feeling it won't be any of the usual goods. It's going to be a girl."

Girl? A child? He's never tried smuggling people before, so that's something new for him. "You've never done anything like this before."

"Marlene can only trust us in this urgent and unusual situation," he explained quickly.

You couldn't resist chuckling. "Well, then I guess I can tag along, just to make sure you don't get yourself into trouble."

"Don't worry about me. I am more worried about you."

You patted the mattress as you said, "Get your ass into bed or I'll pull you here myself." you said. "You know how worried I am about you, so as we see it works both ways."

As he lay down in front of you, he improved his own pillow, letting your arms wrap around his waist.

In a quiet voice, you looked at him and asked, "Did you miss me while I was away? I sure did."

"Yes. You know I always miss you."

As you stared at him, your head rested on his chest. Soon, your hand rested on his nape as you moved it through his hair. "That's why you were angry about the leg? You thought I wouldn't return this time, didn't you?"

A long moment passed without him saying a word. He stared intently at the dilapidated ceiling with his brown eyes. "I was afraid I had lost you forever.

"Oh, Joel!" Your voice was no more than a whisper as you hugged him tightly. "As far as I'm concerned, I'm not going anywhere."

"The only thing my life has taught me is to be uncertain of what the future holds," he replied emotionlessly. "The reason I got angry was because you were involved in something I was powerless to control. I hate such moments.”

As you played with his hair, you whispered, "I know. You know I didn't mean to worry or anger you. I always try to get back to you as soon as possible."

His hand was soon slipping into your hair as he massaged your scalp and stroked the curve of your spine underneath your shirt with his other hand. "I love you. "I love you too." As you cupped his cheek to pull him closer, you whispered a quiet, come here. The kiss you offered was gentle, as if you were afraid you might hurt him. “For me, you are the only source of light in this dark world of mine.”

The Zone Of Comfort || Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: As soon as Joel gets home, he has some concrete plans for what he'll do with you in his spare time

Warnings: SMUT

Word count: 1904

Authors: Cass & Fenrir

There was no way he could take his eyes off you, that was the truth. 

Upon returning home, he dropped his bag on the floor and locked the door; he didn't even think about getting refreshed.

The day had been filled with scummy, dirty work, and he was not only exhausted, but wanted to get relaxed first and foremost. He started considering other ways of dealing with his condition after realizing that the pills mixed with the old whiskey he had kept in a secret stash under the wardrobe were no longer effective.

Then there you were, bustling in the kitchen, in his kitchen, looking goddamn fine.

The world was hard to find yourself in, everything you knew one day crumbled to dust, leaving nothing behind, forcing you to leave in every way you could. Joel's side wasn't always easy, but it didn't change your love for him.

As soon as you heard his backpack hit the ground, you perked up. Finally, he was home. "Joel, you're back! I got some good food, so let's have a nice meal together."

"No rats' meat today, huh?" He laughed slightly darker than he intended to, while he approached you and wrapped his strong arms around your waist from behind. "Missed me?" As he shifted your hair aside to kiss the crook of your neck, his breath was a blend of cigarette scent and warmth. "Because I certainly missed you, Y/N."

The thought of it turned your face into disgust, but you soon smiled as he kissed you. Your hand moved into his hair. "That's what I always do, you know." Suddenly, you turned in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I always miss you and I’m worried every time you're out."

With a smug smirk, he buried his face in your neck's crook, still kissing you there, grazing his rough lips across your soft skin. "Oh, did you miss me?"

"I missed you so much," you giggled, stroking his hair. "I think you missed me too."

You were picked up and placed on the kitchen counter by Joel as easily as if you were a leaf. His hands began to stroke your legs through your jeans instantly. "Prove it then, little one," he dared.

It's not that you were surprised, just that you didn't expect this right now. You gasped and rested your hands on his shoulders. ”You missed me that much?”

The man did not reply, instead he drew his head back and looked at you, his eyebrows cocked, a cocky smirk dancing across his lips. "As you can see."

A smile spread across your face as you gently touched his chest. "I bet you missed my moans when you fucked me," you teased and slowly removed your shirt. "I bet that's all you come back for."

As you took off your shirt, he watched your boobs bouncing a little without saying anything. "What do we have here?" He murmured, cupping one of your breasts and gently squeezing it, strongly but lightly enough to not hurt you in any way.

"Something you really like." When he touched you, you couldn't help but moan. "Dinner can wait. Since you're back, you deserve dessert." Following those words, you tossed your pants aside. There was nothing else on you except your panties as you sat before him.

After stroking your waist with calloused hands, he slipped one of his palms onto your thigh to massage the flesh there. "The little one is so eager today. Are you already wet for me, hmm? Are you getting aroused thinking of me taking you on a dinner table?" Asked Joel, once again kissing your neck, he applied his thumb to your clit and rubbed you there through your panties. "Oh, yes. You are fucking wet," he grinned at you, gently biting the flesh on your neck, leaving a hickey there, and slipping his index finger beneath the fabric of your undies.

A quiet gasp escaped your lips as you shuddered. "Yes, I was eagerly anticipating your return. I couldn't wait for your touch and love. I imagined you touching me each night before sleep and each morning when I awoke."

Taking a step back, Joel started to unbutton his flannel shirt and removed it soon, not breaking eye contact with you for a moment.

"And you said I'm eager," you teased, swinging your legs innocently while watching him with the same innocent smile.

Having tossed his shirt on the floor, he returned to you, wrapped one hand around your waist and helped your legs wrap around his waist before picking you up, grunting deeply.

"Am I getting too heavy for you?" You raised an eyebrow, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Or are you getting too old for this?"

He placed you hardly on the top of the kitchen table and pushed the papers off before he stared into your eyes. "Just the smell of your wet pussy makes me crazy, baby."

Angrily, you huffed at the papers spilling on the floor, turning your attention back to him. "Then prove it, not just talk about it and ignore my work."

As soon as he unclasped your bra, he took it off. As soon as he finished, his lips locked around one of your erected nipples while his hand pinched the other.

"Fuck," you groaned, pulling his hair carefully with your hands. "I missed this so much, and I needed it so badly."

The hand that pinched your nipple slowly moved down your body, soon reaching your panties' fabric. As his lips continued working on your nipple, he slipped his hand beneath your panties and viciously rubbed your clit.

In an effort to get closer to him, you moaned and arched your back. After being away for so long, you craved his touch more than ever. "Joel! Please, I need you."

In an instant, he moved and started kissing your lips hungrily, slowly sliding his middle finger into your pussy, moving it back and forth while making out with you. His free hand unzipped his fly and unbuckled his belt.

You moved your hands to help him, while kissing him back just as eagerly. You weren't going to let him dominate the kiss so easily now that he was back.

It made Joel grunt loudly, as your tiny hands were helping him with his jeans. Having slipped his finger out of you, he brought his hand to his lips, licking and tasting your wetness while gazing at you, almost naked on the kitchen table, with your best deer-eyes fixed on him. By pushing your panties aside, he uncovered your dripping pussy, already glistening with the wetness he spread all over your clit with his hand moments earlier. With his eyes traveling back to your face, Joel smirked. "Who's a good girl, huh? Who's already dripping for me?"

While biting your lip, you replied, "I'm a good girl. I'm always waiting for you and thinking about you."

Joel spat on his open palm and jerked his already erected cock several times before spreading your legs wide. After sliding his tip past your pussy lips gently, he pushed hard enough to bury his shaft deeply inside your wet core, grunting at the long missed tightness. "Fuck."

As he filled you up and stretched your walls, you hissed in delight. You wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. As you kissed him, you murmured, "Fuck indeed."

As he kissed your lips briefly, he grabbed your waist, and quickly began fucking you, grunting and groaning at various times, looking at the place where your bodies were connected to see the bulge forming within your abdomen whenever he was pushing his cock in. "I'm so impressed with you, little one, taking me so well. You're a fine young lady, aren't you?"

As you pressed your hand against the bulge, you let out a loud moan at the pleasure feeling that sent shivers down your spine. "I always take your cock so well whenever you need it. Fuck, I love it."

As he increased his pace a little, he picked up one of your legs and rested it against his broad shoulder, massaging your calf a little while squeezing one of your breasts. "So tight, I love it," he praised within a husky tone. Soon, he pulled out of you, pulled you off the table, turned you around and pressed hard on your back, so you had to lay face down on the table. "Stick your sweet ass up, sweetheart."

As a good girl, you nodded and raised your butt in appreciation. Obviously, you didn't stop yourself from rolling your hips for Joel just to tease him.

He spanked you a few times, leaving red marks on your buttocks. He snarled, grabbing his cock and rubbing its tip against your slick folds. He grunted, "Did I tell you I love your fucking ass?"

Nodding, you grabbed the edge of the table. "You did. Many, many times."

Joel wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you close as he slowly entered you once more. "Oh, fuck, I love it when you got so fucking tight." His other hand grabbed your left hip as he was slowly bucking his hips into you.

Your moaning became louder as you said, "And I am all yours to fuck however you want! I love this thick cock abusing my pussy.”

The hand slipped under your belly, holding you there, moved to rub on your clitoris as he fucked you in the steady pace.

It was impossible not to whimper in pleasure as he made endless promises and praises for how good you made him feel as you moaned his name so sweetly.

Your warmness mixed with wetness, and your pussy's tightness sent him on edge. Soon, his pushes turned sloppy, and he started grunting more and more. As Joel pulled out his throbbing dick from you, he turned you around and jerked his shaft several times before cumming on your belly. "Fuck, Y/N."

You sat up and used your finger to taste some of his cum while moaning sadly at the feeling of emptiness. Your arm encircled his hand as you hummed. "Feeling better, sweetie?”

He wiped the last drops of cum from the tip of his cock with his thumb and sucked it clean, glaring at your body, still shivering from the pleasure you both shared. As he rearranged his boxers and jeans and zipped his fly, he casually replied, "Yeah, of course, that's what I missed." It wasn't long before he touched your swollen pussy again, eliciting another groan from you. "I love you so much. You're my only source of comfort."

After getting off the table, you walked to the kitchen and found a rug there. Before returning to him, you cleaned yourself up and put on your clothes. Wrapping your arms around him, you looked up at his face. "I love you too, and I'm glad I can help you feel better."

One of his brows cocked up. "What the fuck are you doing getting dressed?"

You blinked, whispering, "Uhm... As I'm planning to finish the food now, I'd like to dress appropriately."

A smirk spread across his face as he touched your cheek and stared deeply into your eyes. "Food can wait," he told you. "There is still a lot to make up, and I am not done pledging you yet."