After The Rain (joel Miller X F!reader)

after the rain (joel miller x f!reader)

summary: when life as you know it comes crashing down around your ears, only joel can fix it.

warnings: ex-boyfriend’s dad!joel, age gap (28/56), infidelity (not by joel or reader), cursing, lots of kissing, mild smuttiness, this is not beta’d so sorry for any mistakes lmao, 18+ mdni.

notes: this is a drabble for @janaispunk’s milestone celebration! congrats, babe. there is nobody more deserving of this than you 🫶🏻 i had so much fun playing along. i really hope you like this 🤍

“Thanks, Mr Miller. You really didn’t have to do any of this.”

“Darlin’, it’s Joel. You know it is, and ain’t no way in hell I wasn’t bringin’ you home. It’s the least I can do.”

The cab of the truck falls silent; howling wind and thunderous rain filling the spaces where words should be.

Where they fail you.

You glance over at Joel, agonising over how much you’ll miss him. It’s not his fault his son decided you weren’t worth his time anymore: texting you to say you had a day to remove your belongings from the house, that he was actually in love with the receptionist at his office, and had been for some time now.

Fuck him.

Four years of your life. Over as fast as the lightning flashes above you, freezing you to the bone and splintering your heart in two. You’re almost thirty, and alone again.

Joel had found you on his return home from work.

You and Sebastian had lived with him for two years, hoping to save for a house of your own. Joel made you dinner, helped you fold laundry, let you win at poker. The fact he was disturbingly handsome was neither here nor there — Seb had told you he’d been alone for a long time since his mom left, and you knew Joel found comfort in the time he spent with you.

You knew, because you felt the same.

Joel became a friend to you, in a city where you didn’t have many others. Seb was popular, the two of you unevenly matched — you’d heard his friend’s girlfriends say it enough times to know it was true. Overlooked, underestimated, by everyone but him.

Joel.

He’d listen to talk about your career dreams when stacking the dishwasher, let you play your favourite songs on his record player and ride up front in the truck when you’d drop Seb off at another soirée you weren’t invited to.

You couldn’t truly believe he was single. He was a little gruff, sure. Reserved, speaking only when spoken to. But beyond all that: Joel was patient, with a soft heart. You saw the way the creases by his eyes deepened when you told him of your loneliness: dark brown gaze holding your own.

You were soaked when he discovered you, dragging out boxes and bags in the driving deluge. Joel had tried to reason with you, told you to wait till the morning. You repeated Seb’s ultimatum, watched Joel’s brows furrow and lips curl into a snarl when he learned of his son’s deceit.

“Let me take you, darlin’,” he’d insisted, and you’d relented. One last drive up front with Joel sounded better than any Uber ever would.

You round the bend towards your parent’s house, now, Joel’s hand finding yours in your lap. You try not to jolt at the contact: Seb hasn’t touched you in any which way for a few months now, and you’re surprised by how much you’ve missed the touch of another human.

It didn’t help matters that his father’s hand was warm, calloused, downright huge over yours.

“They home? Your folks?”

You shake your head. “No, luckily. In Florida visiting my Grandma.”

Joel tuts, runs the same hand through his damp hair. It’s slicked back against his head, and you take in the gray at his temples, silver streaked through the rest of his drenched curls. You note the curve of his nose, full lips, black lashes. The smooth skin of his throat, thick biceps, drenched flannel sticking to him.

Something simmers in your belly, hot as hell, and so very fucking wrong.

It’s Mr Miller. Sebastian’s dad. Joel, for fucks sake.

“I’ll help you in with your things,” he tells you, and you protest.

“Mr — Joel. It’s fine, I got it.”

He turns to face you: stern as ever, and you wilt under his glare, knowing his frustration isn’t aimed at you.

“I just — I can’t be there when he gets home. You’re my priority right now, and I wanna make this as easy as I can for ya,” he murmurs, and you feel your eyes begin to well with tears; a contrast to the way you were feeling mere seconds before.

You don’t know which emotion is worse.

Joel pulls up outside the house, rain still lashing at the windows. You wipe your eyes hastily, shoulders drooping in your wet shirt.

“Hey, baby, don’t cry now. Come on. I’ll make sure you’re okay,” Joel leans over the console, his arm around you, lips against your forehead.

Baby.

He’s never called you that before.

You’re sure it’s a slip of the tongue; an instant reaction to the state you’re in, influenced by his urge to take care of you.

Still. The heat returns, making you squirm, closing your eyes and sighing as Joel heads out into the storm, pulling your boxes from the back.

Ten minutes later, it’s like you never left home at all.

Joel insists on bringing your belongings to your old room, mercifully not transformed into a gym or library by your parents yet.

“I know there’s nothin’ I can say to make any of this better,” he tells you, following you up the stairs. “But believe me when I say I never wanted this day to come. I thought you’d be in my life forever.”

You turn, lump in your throat.

“Me too, Joel.”

Soon, the last bag of your clothes is dumped on your carpet, and he follows you to the door in silence.

“Well.. I guess this is goodbye, then,” you mutter, voice wobbling as you turn the handle. The sky is still an angry grey, passing cars spraying water as it continues to pour from above.

Joel heads out, rain bouncing off his shoulders. He turns back, face unreadable, eyes narrowing.

“You can never know how sorry I am, darlin’. I know Seb’s my boy, but he never deserved you. ‘n you.. Christ. Just know I’m here — ‘f ya need me.”

You fold your arms across your chest, sighing heavily. The pain of Sebastian’s betrayal pales in insignificance to the agony of letting Joel leave your life.

“You mean that?”

He holds his arms open in lieu of an answer, and you cross the threshold, barreling into his chest. You feel the downpour sluicing down your neck, roaring in your ears as his hand caresses your back slowly.

You look up at him, rain dripping off his nose, clinging to his lashes. Your eyes travel to his lips, and you’re certain you feel his grip on you tighten, a growl in his throat.

You kiss him.

You’re so certain Joel will push you away, tell you it’s wrong, that you’re not yourself right now. But, he doesn’t: his tongue finds its way into your mouth, and you groan into the swirling wind, hands scrambling to grip the scruff along his jaw.

He’s kissing you so deeply; ferociously, fingers digging into your ass, clambering up your spine. You’re not sure you’ve ever been kissed like this in your life: you feel like Joel’s everywhere, commanding every sense you own.

“Fuck,” you moan, pushing him back inside. You break apart, chests heaving, water cascading to the floor of the entryway. Joel looks guilty, but you’re past caring about what Seb would ever think.

“Joel, I —“

“Don’t,” he whispers, reaching for you. He pulls you close, fingers trailing across your bare arms, coming to rest beneath your chin. “Just, kiss me.”

So you do.

Joel’s hands wander beneath your shirt, and you tear it over your head, reaching for the buttons of his flannel. “Can’t tell you how long I’ve been thinkin’ about you, like this,” he confesses, spinning you in his arms.

His hands — still so warm, despite the freezing rain outside — slide up your stomach, cupping you, squeezing you. It feels like you’ve always belonged here: feeling how hard he is against your back, how he knows your body so well already. You shiver, writhe in his grasp, and his lips find yours once more.

“Let me take care of you, baby.”

You open up to him, receiving his tongue so eagerly. He travels lower, pushing your jeans to the floor, thick fingers sliding inside your panties as you mould yourself to him. It’d never felt like this with Seb, or with anyone before him. Your blood is singing beneath your skin, and you wonder how it took so long for you to get here.

You have no idea the depth of Joel’s words: whether he means just for tonight, or for as long as he can.

You decide it doesn’t matter.

“Okay.”

The Beginning: Chapter 1

Javier Peña x f!reader / (2,849)

Summary: Fresh out of college, you just moved to Austin, Texas, and are starting fresh. It's Friday night, so you take yourself out to the bar for a quiet dinner and drink but end up blushing under the gaze of the gorgeous older man you meet.

Notes: This is my first ever fanfic, so go easy on me! Im not sure how long this series will be or the direction it will take, besides smutty ;). Please let me know what you guys are interested in or what you'd like to see so I can create the fantasies you girlies are dying to have come to life.

Disclaimers: This series is for adults over the age of 18.

It's your first Friday night after moving to Texas the week before. Your apartment is finally clear of cardboard boxes and miscellaneous piles of your belongings crammed into corners or atop every available bit of counter space.

The move was exciting and stressful following the whirlwind of a month you had prior. Graduating college, landing your first job hundreds of miles away, and saying goodbye to friends and family has kept you busy for so long. Now, you find yourself settled and alone in a new city which is why you decided to take yourself on a much-needed self-care date night.

You had been holed up in the apartment all week unpacking, ordering takeout, and wondering how the hell you were going to create a life here in Austin where you know a total of zero people.

Tonight, instead of feeling sorry for yourself you decided to explore your new city and act like the adult you are trying to become. You brush your hair and wear it down along with a light dusting of makeup. Just enough to make you feel like you got ready but nothing major. You throw on your favorite skirt and tank top combo then slide into some shoes and head out the door.

Summer in Austin is in full swing, even at 8 p.m. with the sun down and the breeze blowing, your skin is flush from walking a few blocks through downtown to the cozy dinner spot you scouted earlier in the week.

The restaurant is bathed in cozy dim lighting from the warm string lights overhead and Edison bulb fixtures found in every other trendy spot downtown. It's just the vibe you were going for, perfect for sitting alone at the bar with a book, a few apps, and a strong drink to ride out the night which is exactly what you do.

You cross the restaurant and reach the bar at the back wall, offering a smile to the bartender who greets you and tells you to sit wherever you like. You choose the left most barstool and sit down to empty the contents of your slouchy, knit tote bag you had slung across your shoulder. You place your book and cell phone onto the dark mahogany countertop and relax into the chair.

“What can I get for you tonight?” the bartender asks. “Dinner or drinks?”

“Espresso martini and a menu please”

“You got it”

Several minutes later with your drink placed before you and your order of garlic parmesan french-fries and sliders on the way, you take in your surroundings. It's dim, and cozy, and the restaurant is busy but it's mostly groups of what looks like college students who occupy big tables or couples out for date night. You don’t mind being here alone though, it will be nice to have a night to dive into your delicious romance novel in the corner with no one to bother you. Speaking of, you turn back to your book and crack it open as you take a sip of your martini. You aren’t sure how much time passes, but your food arrives and you thank the bartender who promises you a second martini is on the way before you even have to ask.

“You read my mind,” you say, and he chuckles as he walks away. You dig into your sliders which are greasy and indulgent, exactly what you wanted. You turn your attention to your fries and pick at them as you pick your book back up and focus on the story once again. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a figure moving towards the bar and when you look up you can't help but stare.

Walking in your direction is a tan-skinned man with dark hair sweeping to the side with a few stray stands falling down the front of his forehead towards his eyes. He walks slowly and swaggering, the sway of his hips telling you exactly how confident he is. Dressed in dark tight-fitting jeans, a blue button-up shirt, and a black leather jacket, the man looks a bit brooding and serious as he sits 4 barstools to your right.  Before you get caught staring you tear your eyes away from the man who, admittedly is very handsome despite being at least 20 years older than you.

You force your eyes back to your book, but you aren’t reading a word because you are too aware of the stranger sitting a couple of feet away from you. You hear him order a whiskey and you sneer, the last time you had whiskey was at your graduation party which ended up giving you the most outrageous hangover of your life.

“What’s wrong with whiskey?” you hear a gruff, deep voice ask in your direction.

You startle and look up at the stranger “Uh.. what?”

He turns his head in your direction “The look on your face. You seem offended by my drink of choice.” His eyes are big brown and dark but seem to sparkle despite the tension on his face. His jawline is strongly defined, and he has a masculine nose with a thick dark mustache perched atop full pouty lips.

Your face flushes when you snap back to reality and realize he is still staring straight at you waiting for a response. “Oh, you saw that?” you say embarrassingly, damn your inability to keep your facial expressions to yourself. “Whiskey reminds me of a few messy moments if I'm being honest”.

“Huh” he chuckles, “it seems to help me forget about mine.” His gruff words brought darkness to his eyes and creased lines into his forehead.

Before you have a chance to even think about that convoluted response the bartender returns with both your drink and the handsome stranger's whiskey on ice. “Any food for you tonight sir?”

“Are those any good?” he asks, turning to you and nodding towards the fries, catching you off guard yet again.

“Oh yeah, pretty fucking good” The words come out faster and easier than you thought they would. Under the weight of the man's gaze, you would usually be a bit shy, but your martinis have given you just enough liquid courage to set your anxieties aside.

“Some fries and another whiskey when they come out,” he orders and sits back in his chair. The waiter leaves and now it's just you and the stranger. “I’m Javier by the way.”

You tell him your name but after that, no other words pass between you. Eventually, you move your focus back to your book as the stranger drinks and picks at his fries that finally come.

By now, you are a couple of chapters deep, nursing your third espresso martini, and internally squealing at the sexual tension between the main characters in the book you're reading. You live for that tension and desire that frankly; you haven’t had in a long time. Dating in college consisted of a few flings here and there but nothing substantial and certainly nothing as delicious as what your favorite romance characters get to experience.

“That must be good,” Javier says to you with a smirk on his face. His eyes glanced from the blush on your cheeks to the book in your hands.

Your face goes red hot, and you meet his eyes. Your lips part, trying to come up with something to excuse your flustered look, but you know from the smirk on his face that you’ve been caught red-handed reading smut at the bar. You are about to drown in embarrassment but instead, you decide to feign unconcern and quip back, “A hell of a lot better than any real man has been.”

“Oh,” he says taken aback by your brazenness “, that’s a real shame. A pretty girl like you deserves the best.” His big brown eyes roam down your body and drink in the sight of you. He pauses ever so slightly at the hem of your skirt and when his eyes rise again to meet yours in challenge, they seem a bit darker than before.

Internally you are screaming, why the hell would you say that to a man you don’t even know? How do you even navigate this conversation when you are pretty sure has taken a very sharp turn into flirtatious territory?

Your brain is scrambling to come up with a solution to abort the mission but then you pause. You are an adult woman out in her new city, flirting with the hottest older man you’ve ever seen, and he seems interested in you. Why should you end things when you could pursue some romance of your own instead of living vicariously through your books? And hell, Austin is huge, you probably won't ever see this guy again after tonight so you might as well have a little fun.

You settle into your decision then meet his eyes with your own smirk and ask “And where can I find the best, Javier?”

The second his name leaves your mouth, you sense the change in mood, it's game on. The corner of his mouth turns up into a smile, and he rises from his barstool to stalk towards you. His eyes don’t leave yours as he takes the seat directly next to your and responds, “You’re looking at him.”

Your blood heats and nerves twist in your stomach. You’ve never met someone so straightforward but god it’s exciting. “You sound a bit cocky if you ask me.” You tease and lean forward, closing the distance between the two of you.

Before Javier can respond the bartender comes back and clears his throat, noticing the air around the two of you. You straighten up in an attempt to hide your flirting and look forward as the bartender lets you know that the restaurant is closing and he is about to bring the cheques.

“Add her to mine,” Javier says and hands the bartender his card before you have a chance to interject. The bartender rolls his eyes and lets out a huff but does as he is instructed. Weird, you think to yourself. Maybe he’s just annoyed because he has to redo the cheques. You don’t give it any more thought because your mind is a bit warm and fuzzy thanks to the handful of drinks you’ve had tonight.

Surprised, you thank Javier and excuse yourself to the bathroom while he waits to close out. When you return, Javier and the bartender are having an exchange that you can't quite hear. Whatever it is, both of their faces are plastered with scowls. When you reach the bar, Javier is staring down the bartender, his eyes dark and jaw clenched “None of your business” he says to the man and then he stalks outside to wait for you on the sidewalk.

You glance back at the bartender and ask, “What was that?”

“Nothing,” he says. “Just be careful.” He huffs, then walks away, leaving you alone.

Confused, you pack your things back into your totebag and make your way outside to meet Javier. When you step out and see him on the sidewalk, his brows are knit, and his fists are clenched. You even see a muscle tick in his jaw before he turns to look at you.

“What's wrong?” you ask, taking a worried step toward him.

He stands straight, keeping his distance, and says,” Apparently, I’m taking advantage of you” he spits out.

“Where the hell did you get that idea?” you balk.

He nods his head toward the restaurant. “I'm sorry if you feel that way.” Reaching up and running his hand through his hair, “I guess I got carried away.”

“Well, in case you didn’t notice, I'm old enough to make decisions for myself and everyone else can mind their own damn business.”

His eyes meet yours again, but you can see that the fire behind them is gone, and instead, they are empty. “Listen, sorry if I gave you the wrong idea, sweetheart. I enjoyed meeting you, though.”

Annoyed at the turn of events, you respond, “So that’s it? What happened to me deserving the best?”

He lets out a sigh “You do, but I’m far from it.” He says darkly.

You can feel the wall Javier is stacking up between the two of you. The flirtation is gone, and the night you were beginning to look forward to was slipping away. “Well, it was nice to meet you anyways, have a good night.” you clip and turn away to walk home.

Before you make it too far, you hear Javier walking behind you, so you stop and turn around. “You don’t want to talk to me anymore, but you’ll stalk me through the streets?” you slur at him a bit rudely.

He walks right up to you frowning and says, “I’ll at least walk a drunk girl home late at night. I might be an asshole, but I'm not stupid.”

“I’m not drunk,” you scoff, crossing your arms and starting to walk away again.

Like before, you hear him trailing behind  “Maybe not drunk, but definitely tipsy.”

You give up on trying to get rid of Javier and let him catch up to you. You spend the 15-minute walk home together mostly in silence, but he does ask a few questions. You tell him you're new to Austin, how you got there, and why. You try to ask him a few questions as well, but he is a lot less forthcoming with information. Eventually, you make it to the entrance to your apartment budling, and you stop mid-stride.

He pauses, “This is where you live?”

You nod, waiting for him to turn and leave, but he doesn’t. “Are you waiting for me to invite you up? I thought you weren’t interested anymore?” You say.

“Never said that,” he grumbles “But no, that’s not what I'm waiting for. I'm making sure you get inside, and then I'm gone,” he says coldly.

“I don’t need you to take care of me, you know. I can do that just fine myself. In fact, I was fine on my own tonight before you played hot and cold.”

You can't help but be annoyed with the blatant rejection from this man you just met tonight. You didn’t go out with hopes of meeting someone to bring home for the night, but when the handsome velvet-voiced man sat beside you, you were instantly captivated. Not to mention when he started flirting with you, which had your cheeks blushing and your stomach full of butterflies. It was almost embarrassing how quickly you'd decided to spend the night with him, but then he changed his mind at the drop of a hat.

Your words struck him somewhere deep “Listen honey, I’m sorry about that, but you don’t want this, you don’t want me.” He said with a pained but stern voice.

“And what if I do? Just for one night?” you say, looking up at him, pleading.

“Then you'd be wrong.” He says, then clenches his jaw and begins to walk away.

You watch him continue down the street for a few steps before turning to walk inside your apartment building's first floor and to the elevator.  You're still thinking about the gravel in his voice and the way it had you hanging on to every last word back at the bar when you finally make it to the door of your third-floor apartment.

You search for the keys in your tote bag and let out a sigh when you hear the door unlock and push inside. Kicking off your shoes and locking the door behind you, you shuffle through the living room and into the bedroom.

Glancing at the clock on your bedside table, you see that it’s just shy of 11. Now that you're home and the excitement of the night is disappointingly over, you can feel the tiredness creeping up on you. Before you change, you walk up to close the blinds on the window beside your bed.

You were actually so excited about the windows in your new apartment because you have a great view of downtown Austin from your living room. Unfortunately, though, your bedroom window points directly at a window in the neighboring building, so it's much less exciting, or so you thought.

Right before you close the blinds, you see the light in the room of that neighboring window flick on, and a pair of broad shoulders hidden inside a familiar black leather jacket stride into that bedroom. You let out a gasp and watch as Javier fully enters the bedroom and throws his jacket and keys onto the dresser across from his bed. As he turns to close the blinds precisely as you were about to do, he freezes, and his eyes meet yours.

Maybe he was right; you might be drunk. Or maybe you just want him to see what he’s missing out on. Right now, you don’t care which it is, so you give him a small smile and begin to undress under the weight of his stare.

*part 2 is out now*

Omfg, this was so hot!!!!!!! I want more of these two!!!🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

so i saw this man and my rotted brain went i bet he spends a lot of time jerking off and yes i know the context of the picture idk what to tell you, and then y'all encouraged me, and here we are.

cw: f!reader, masturbation (m&f), edging, addictive behavior, voyeurism, extremely inappropriate behavior by joelseph miller, light spoilers for tlou2, idk if this is hot or just weird but it's both to me, sorry if there are words missing i wrote this in a fugue state and that happens sometimes

It starts as a way to pass the time. Even with his wood-carving and guitar-making and patrol shifts, there are still soooooo many hours in the day. Ellie's in her own little place, all independent, and the dating pool is about as dry as you'd think for a place with 300 people.

He doesn't mean to get addicted to it. It just happens. He Pavlovs himself into getting hard every time he's alone in his house. And it's fine, actually, because he hasn't really been able to relax in over twenty years, so why shouldn't he just give himself this one thing? Just to pass the time.

But then it's not just to pass the time.

Eventually he can't keep his hands off his cock when he's alone. He can barely wait to shut the door behind himself and strip, using whatever's handy (lol) as lube, or if he really can't wait, he'll spit in his hand and go at it.

And it's amazing.

He's never let himself feel this good, never done anything just for him, and fuck, he can't stop. He likes making noise, moaning so fucking loud it echos. He figures out different techniques, different ways to hold himself, how to make himself almost come and stop before it actually happens.

He can go for hours if he has the time.

He tries not to let it affect his life, still makes time for other things, but if he can, he'll get off a couple of times a day.

Tommy comes knocking on his door one day, just after he's finished. He can still feel the flush on his neck, heart still pounding in his chest, head still clouded with endorphins. He wipes his sticky hand on a shirt he needs to wash anyway and opens the door, hoping it doesn't smell too much like come in the living room.

If Tommy notices anything he doesn't say it, just goes right into introductions--Joel, she's new, and she needs a place to stay until we get her permanent place ready. Just a few weeks.

You're pretty, really fucking gorgeous, smiling all sweet and polite with some little accent he can't place, but he doesn't want you here in his space. This is his space, this is where he--where he relaxes.

But he can hardly decline. You stick your hand out in greeting, and he clasps his over it, cringing internally as he remembers he'd just had his cock in his hand not five minutes before, just wiped all the results his activities even less than.

If he hadn't just come, he'd probably be hard again, and he feels like the dirtiest old man that ever lived.

You promise you won't be a bother, and he tells you not to worry about it. You're polite and thoughtful and you pitch in with chores and his dick is going to fucking explode if you don't leave this house soon.

He's gotta figure something out. He still gets time in the bathroom or before he goes to sleep, but his orgasms are small and unsatisfying and he's short tempered--even more so than usual, even to you. He doesn't want that, though. Even if he is a dirty old man, even if he does need this, he doesn't want you to be upset with him or have him think he's upset with you.

Eventually he starts locking himself in his studio, tells you he just likes to be alone when he's carving and to please not disturb him. And you don't. Sometimes you even leave, and he can be as loud as he wants, and it works, and he'll be able to get through these next few weeks.

The thing is that you're not an idiot. You know what an erection looks like, you know what desperation looks like, you know exactly what's bothering him. Also, the house is quiet, and your hearing is much better than his. You can hear him even when he's trying to keep it down, the soft slap slap slap, the groan, the stopping and whimpering before he spits in his hand and starts again.

He's making you fucking crazy.

Every time he comes out looking flushed and chipper and asking how your day's going, you have to excuse yourself and get off as quickly as you can.

It goes like that for a while, like this game of jerk off tag, and you really, really want to see him.

He wants to let you.

It doesn't take him long to pick up on the fact that you know what he's doing, when you just happen to be hanging around the immediate vicinity of his studio when he comes out. The way your pupils are blown wide, lips parted and bitten, almost panting, running off to take care of something in your room.

You've been so good to him, letting him have this thing he needs so badly, even though you could've shamed him for it, and he wants to share it with you. He wants to show you. He wants you to see him, and he wants to see you, too.

The door is ajar the next time you sneak down the hall, and you're greeted to the most delicious sight. Naked--naked--shimmering with sweat and effort, one big hand pumping his impressive cock, shiny with precome and spit. The bulbous tip is dribbling steadily like he's been at it for a while, every now and then he thrusts up with his hips, groaning and freezing like he's trying to keep from coming all over himself.

You've never seen a man enjoy himself so much, and you don't move an inch. You just want to watch him bite his lips and moan, that mane of salt and pepper hair slick with perspiration. This is on purpose, he wants you to see. He's so careful, door locked, mostly dressed all those times you got to your knees to peek through the keyhole.

He knows.

He opens his eyes when the floorboard creaks, a smirk spreading across his lips just before he bares his teeth, gripping the base of his cock.

"C'mere," he rasps. "Look at it."

You move a little closer, feeling shy, but you do as he says. You watch him. You wait.

"Look at it," he groans, breath hitching, hips stuttering into his fist. "Watch."

He comes with a long, loud moan. It goes everywhere--his hand, his belly, his chest. You don't move, you just watch his face slacken, whispering something over and over, licking his lips. He's lost in it. You're shaking, pussy soaking as you wait for him to open his eyes.

His panting slows, his soft belly going up and down with each steady breath. You can't stop looking at him. He gives you a long, feral leer and crooks two fingers at you.

"C'mere." He pats one sticky thigh. "Your turn."

ANYWAY BYE

masterlist

(major work in progress)

series:

Tomorrow Never Came: One | Two | Three ✧˚ Joel takes a chance on a hitchhiker

playlists

songs that remind me of tomorrow never came

songs that i would sing to joel miller

songs that would inspire me to write a fic

Ummmmmm….why is this so hot??!!!

captive

Raider! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: You find yourself missing your captor while he’s out on an early morning hunt with the rest of the group.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. RAIDER ERA. DARK!JOEL. DUBCON. IMPLIED PREVIOUS NONCON. UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 50). READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION. mentions of Joel’s group murdering reader’s group, it’s implied her family members were also killed, Joel pretty much kidnaps reader and keeps her as his own, stockholm syndrome, reader deals with a lot of very distressing and conflicting feelings, Joel isn’t too creepy or extremely dark, but he is still not a good person, mentions of Tommy. VERY BRIEF SMUT in the form of cockwarming, daddy kink but i didn’t go overboard this time, pet names (honey, baby, babygirl, sweetheart) if i missed anything, you can POLITELY let me know because if i missed anything, it was purely accidental. minimal editing.

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS.

if this isn’t your thing, that’s fine, just scroll on by.

word count: 1.4k

a/n: i might actually throw up idk. i’ve had this itch to try dark joel and seeing as i have major writer’s block with all my other wips i decided to just scratch the itch. this is a little out of my comfort zone but i actually ended up feeling pleased with what i wrote. this is my personal take on dark/raider joel, i’m sure it is very out of character but it’s fanfiction so…yeah. here it is.

It’s the rain that rouses you from your sleep.

It beats down heavily on the remote cabin’s tin roof.

Loud. Much too loud.

You roll over, settling yourself on your side.

The mattress is old, worn, rotting beneath the sheets.

You can’t complain, though. At least you have a bed.

Everybody else is forced to sleep on the hard floor.

He always gets the room with the bed.

As his special girl, that means you always get the room with the bed too.

It’s not quite as flattering as one would believe.

He only ever wants the bedroom for one reason—to keep you behind a locked door so you can’t run.

You sigh softly and stare out the window. He’d secured that too, made certain that it couldn’t be opened from the inside.

Closing your eyes, you try and go back to sleep.

Sleep doesn’t come.

His absence is starting to bother you.

You’ve been with him for an entire season now.

You’re getting used to him.

The sound of his voice. 

The warmth of his body.

The taste of his lips.

You can’t even sleep without him next to you.

“Fuck,” you whisper, clutching the stale sheets, balling them in your fists out of frustration.

How was it possible? How could you be missing him?

He had taken everything from you.

Your family.

Your home. 

Your innocence.

He was holding you captive. He was a monster.

But a monster doesn’t keep you safe.

Doesn’t clothe you.

Doesn’t feed you.

Doesn’t protect you.

He did all of those things and more. 

Is that why you feel so empty without him beside you?

Is that why you’re no longer so certain you would run if you were given the chance to escape him?

You fucking hated him for what he’d done.

Yet here you are, aching for him to come back to you.

It’s another hour before you hear the lock clicking. 

Joel pushes through the door, quietly closing it behind him.

“Y’awake?” he asks, slipping his pack off his shoulders.

“Mhm,” you answer with your back to him. “I am.”

You hear the sound of his pack hitting the floor.

His worn leather boots being kicked off. 

His rifle being set down, propped against the wall.

“How was the hunt?”

You can feel him freeze as he’s taking off his jacket.

Getting you to willingly speak to him had always been a lot like pulling teeth. Difficult, almost impossible.

When he doesn’t respond, you roll over to face him.

There’s a swoop in your tummy.

Joel is drenched from head to toe. His blue denim shirt clings to his broad frame and his dark, graying curls are slicked back away from his face.

He’s got such a handsome face.

Monsters aren’t supposed to have handsome faces.

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re really askin’ me how the hunt went?” Suspicion laces his tone. “Why? Y’worried you won’t eat tonight?”

Of course you weren’t.

Joel Miller doesn’t let you go hungry.

When food is scarce, he makes sure you eat first. If he notices you rubbing your tummy because your portion wasn’t enough, he’ll give you his own portion.

He takes care of you.

“No.” You pause and sit up. The sheets you two share fall away from your body, leaving your soft, supple breasts on full display for him. “Just wanted to know how your morning went. That’s all.”

It’s not your tits that make his cock twitch against the zipper of his jeans—it’s the sincerity that flashes across your features, the sound of it in the tone of your voice.

You’re being sweet to him.

He clears his throat lightly.

“Went real good. Brought down a deer. Female, ‘bout a hundred pounds or so. Enough to keep all of us well fed for the next couple of weeks,” he says with a nod. “Was pissin’ rain the entire time but it was worth it. Tommy’s in the shed out back right now dressin’ it so we can get a stew started.” He pauses. “You’re gonna get a proper meal tonight, babygirl. Belly’s gonna be nice and full.”

He’s not just talking about food and you know it.

You make an effort to meet his gaze, but you can’t. You can’t bring yourself to do it, not when you remembered how he’d taken you away from your family—how he had carried you over his shoulder, kicking and screaming as his people raided your camp and slaughtered every last member of your group because that’s what Joel Miller had ordered them to do.

Looking him in the eye might be the one thing you will never, ever be able to do.

“It’s cold,” you murmur after a minute. “You should get out of those wet clothes before you get sick.”

With a subtle nod, Joel turns around and starts peeling off his clothes until he’s completely naked. He uses an old rag to dry himself off as best as he can, although it doesn’t do much for him.

You can’t help yourself and stare—your gaze drags over the strong muscles of his back and shoulders, how they flex and ripple beneath his skin with every single one of his movements. Arousal pools between your thighs and all you can do is fucking hate yourself for wanting it, for wanting him.

“S’pretty early still,” he states, his back still to you as he runs the rag through his hair. “Y’should try to get some more sleep.”

The confession tumbles out of your mouth before you can even think about stopping it.

“I couldn’t sleep while you were gone.”

Surprised, he turns around.

Almost immediately, your eyes fall to his cock.

Even when he isn’t fully hard, he’s still so fucking big.

“Is that so?” Joel asks, sounding rather pleased. 

“Yes,” you say, softly. “I—I missed you.”

His lips turn upwards into a subtle, faint grin.

“Yeah?” he coos. “My sweet little girl missed me while I was gone? Hm?” Slowly, he approaches the bed. It dips slightly and the frame creaks as he plants a knee on the mattress and leans over towards you. Gently, Joel takes your chin between his index finger and thumb. “Y’need Daddy by your side so you can sleep, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you whisper, warm tears glazing over your eyes.

It’s bad enough your body welcomed him so easily.

Now your heart was starting to do the same.

And then there was your mind.

What if that stopped fighting him too?

Part of you is afraid it already has.

Joel climbs into bed, joining you under the sheets.

“M’here, my pretty girl. C’mere, honey.” He coaxes you to lay on your side and pulls you back against his chest. His skin is still damp, frigid from having been out in the elements, but somehow he’s still warm. “That better?”

“Need you closer,” you mumble, wiggling against him.

Joel groans, his thick cock hard and throbbing against the small of your back. He nips at your bare shoulder as his hand drags down the length of your body and slips between your thighs. “Christ, babygirl. Pussy’s soakin’ wet for me. Looks like she missed me while I was gone too, didn’t she, sweetheart?”

He runs his finger along your slick, silky folds.

“Daddy,” you whimper, bucking into his hand.

“Don’t worry, honey. Daddy knows what you need.”

Joel pulls his hand from between your legs.

You almost cry—you’re so fucking desperate for him. 

And you shouldn’t be. 

He reaches in between your bodies, his hand wrapping around the base of his cock. Without warning, he slips it into your tight, aching cunt, sheathing himself in your warm, wet heat in one smooth stroke.

You choke out a sob.

It’s always overwhelming, that initial stretch.

That fullness, the feeling of him being in your belly.

“S’alright, sweetheart. S’alright. I know you can take it,” he soothes you. “You’re such a good girl for me. Always take my cock so fuckin’ well. So good for me, baby. You feel better now that Daddy’s cock is buried inside your pretty little pussy?”

He drapes an arm around you, pulling your back flush against his chest.

“Yes,” you breathe, placing your hand on top of his.

Joel feathers a kiss onto your neck.

“Go to sleep, babygirl. M’here. Ain’t goin’ nowhere,” he promises you.

That shouldn’t be a comfort to you. But it is.

You close your eyes, your fingers subconsciously lacing together with his as you start to drift.

Cunt full of his cock, you fall asleep in your captor’s arms.

divider credit to @saradika🤍

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