Joel Miller Fic - Tumblr Posts

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 ❤️

Better get some ideas cooking for a story

MARRIED JOEL SITS ON YOU September Fic Prompt Challenge

To bid the summer farewell and celebrate the coming of Cuffing Season, I'd like to welcome you to join me in sin & get sat upon by Joel Miller.

Want to participate? Post your Married!Joel-Sat-Upon fic by September 30th with the hashtag #joel sat on me 2024 and tag me - @beefrobeefcal. You can also send me the link to said fic via direct msg or in my inbox.

FICS MUST INCLUDE:

Joel is married (does not have to be married to reader, y/n or person being sat upon)

The following wording: Marriage had been good to Joel. His mental health and financial stability had improved, and he seemed over all a happier person. The only drawback seemed to be the effect it had on his waistline.

Happy writing!

Beefro👌🥩💜

all about beef

taglist for those who may be interested: @strang3lov3 @noxturnalpascal @whocaresstillthelouvre @jennaispunk @weregirlbyknight

@yopossum @ace-turned-confused @bitchesuntitled @timelordfreya @maggiemayhemnj

@goodwithcheese @rebel-held @gwendibleywrites @romanarose @xdaddysprincessxx

@artsy-girl-76 @wintrwinchestr @deathsholywaterr @merz-8 @slutsoutgutsout @covetyou

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

Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!

And Joel is right… a cigarette is wonderful after sex 🫠

Wonderful as always Bug 😘😘😘

Bad Habit

“Don’t you ever start smokin’. If I catch ya with one of these in that mouth of yours, I’ll make you regret it,” he said, exhaling smoke. “I will make you fuckin’ regret it.”

After Joel catches you smoking, he gives you something else to put between your lips. (7.2k)

Tags - dbf!joel, neighbor!joel, pervy/sleazy yet comforting Joel, cock from a man who could be your second father, smut, smoking, dubcon elements, blowjobs, masturbation, joel jorks it, oral sex, unprotected piv, creampie, joel makes you smoke until you’re sick to your stomach, vomiting, gratuitous use of the nickname ‘kiddo’ because I am who I am, dubcon, the other stuff Fic help - thank you my dearest @noxturnalpascal for editing <3 and for my other main squeezes for brainstorming with me!! @endlessthxxghts @beefrobeefcal A/N - heddo!I sorry for the delay on getting this out. fic posting will continue to be sporadic and weird for a while so thank you for being patient <3 i hope you all have a safe week and I love you very much 🫂💕 definitely didn’t skip class to finish this and watch gilmore girls btw so if you hear that rumor about me it is bullshit it is not true at all

The cool, late-summer air blows gently on your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake as you sit next to your open window, headphones on, Fiona Apple’s When The Pawn… playing in your ears. You take a long drag of your cigarette and let it fill and burn your lungs, then blow the smoke outside. The sun is setting, the dim light making everything in your room look like a black and white movie, even your own hand in front of you. You love nights like these. 

Eyes gently shut, you’re lost in thought when a tapping on the glass startles you. You gasp when you see Joel, his big hand clutching a large garbage bag. He must have seen you on his way taking the trash out. 

Joel’s your neighbor, he’s been your neighbor all your life. He’s your dad’s closest friend as well, and had a heavy hand in raising you. You used to eat at his house for dinner on Sunday nights, a tradition that’s lasted to present day. As a teenager, you’d spend days and nights at his house when you and your dad weren’t getting along, needing some space from each other. Joel was always a safe person for you to go to. His guest room practically became your second bedroom by the time you graduated. Joel taught you card games, and would make you root beer floats while you played round after round of Rummy. 

Joel was actually the first person to introduce you to smoking. Unintentionally, of course. You can remember him always smelling warmly of tobacco, smelling it on his hair, skin, and clothes when you’d hug him. When you were younger, he told you once, cigarette in his mouth, “Don’t you ever start smokin’. If I catch ya with one of these in that mouth of yours, I’ll make you regret it,” he said, exhaling smoke, “I will make you fuckin’ regret it.”

“Hey, trouble,” Joel drawls. “You ain’t ‘sposed to be smokin’ that.” 

Joel reaches for your cigarettes and pulls it from your mouth, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. He examines it, chuckling quietly at the feeling of the stickiness of your lipgloss on the rolling paper. He brings it to his mouth, then takes a couple puffs before stubbing the cigarette out on the sole of his shoe, then disposes it in his garbage bag. Your dad doesn’t need to see your old cigarette stubs when he’s mowing the lawn. “Don’t let me catch ya again,” he warns, then presses a warm kiss to your forehead, mustache tickling your skin. “Get some sleep. G’night, kiddo.”

This isn’t the first time Joel’s caught you smoking. The first time he did, you were probably around eighteen years old. You remember that it was around Thanksgiving, the leaves were still falling off the trees and the air was chilly. It was an evening when Joel and your dad were hanging out in the kitchen, watching a Bears and Cowboys game on TV. Rooting for the opposite teams, your dad and Joel were barking at each other, getting loud and rowdy. There was no escape from the noise, so you snuck out of your bedroom window and just started walking. Joel left his garage door open, so you decided to hang out there. You admired the posters on the wall, Nirvana and The Rolling Stones. Different liquor brand artwork, picked up from when he used to work as a bartender. The garage never changed, always had that faint smell of cigarettes permeating the air. 

Cigarettes. They were on the workbench in the back of the garage, a pack of Marlboro reds just sitting there, waiting to be smoked. To the left of the pack, a little white Bic lighter. You weren’t sure what came over you at that moment but you palmed both items, then peeked over your shoulder to make sure you really were as alone as you thought you were. You held your breath and focused hard, and found that you were able to hear the faint sounds of Joel and your dad yelling. You were in the clear. 

You opened the worn pack of Marlboros and pulled out one of the cigarettes, the first time you ever held one in your hand. You rolled it between your fingers, inspecting it, before you brought it to your nose to smell the tobacco. With trembling hands you placed the cigarette between your lips, and as you fumbled with the little white lighter, Joel’s warning played over and over again in your mind. If I catch ya with one of these in that mouth of yours, I’ll make you regret it.

But Joel wasn’t there. And what Joel didn’t know wouldn’t kill him. So you lit the cigarette and inhaled, then coughed a bit at the sensation. It was harsh, made your throat feel itchy and scratchy. You didn’t like the way the smoke burned your lungs and you couldn’t wrap your head around how Joel - anyone, for that matter - could become addicted to something as unpleasant as this. You took another puff for the sake of experimenting and you were met with the same experience. Unpleasant. But by the third or fourth drag, you felt the beginning of that headrush everyone talks about. A lightheaded, hazy sort of feeling. Now that…that wasn’t quite so unpleasant. You could see exactly how cigarettes could relieve stress. Taking another puff, you thought maybe you’d steal one or two more from the pack, save them for the end of the week. Smoke them when you’re home from school, before your dad or Joel could see you. And then you’ll shower real quick, wash your hair and brush your teeth and toss your clothes in the washer and -

“The hell do you think you’re doin’?” 

Shit. 

You pulled the cigarette out of your mouth and stubbed it out in a nearby ashtray on Joel’s workbench. “N-nothing.” 

“Bullshit, you’re smokin’,” Joel bit, approaching you through the open garage door. “So help me Ggod, kid...” He snatched his pack of cigarettes from you, along with his lighter. “Stealin’, too. These are my smokes. What the fuck’s the matter with you?” 

“Joel, I’m sorry. I-” 

“You ain’t sorry, yet. Get in the truck.” 

“Joel-”

“Get. In. The fucking. Truck.” he seethed. He wore such a threatening scowl, and his face and neck were red, veins bulging in his skin as his anger grew. 

You scurried into his truck that sat on the driveway and Joel followed suit, slamming the door shut before turning the key into the ignition. Even the truck sounded angry as it roared to life. Joel shifted into reverse and drove you down the street, to the nearest gas station. “Stay there,” he ordered. 

You awaited his return anxiously, picking at your nails. Joel returned with a new pack of Marlboro reds and drove back to his home. “Garage,” he said. 

“But my dad-”

“Garage.” 

 If I catch ya with one of these in that mouth of yours, I’ll make you regret it.

Joel made good on his promise. He sat you down in front of the workbench, right where you were before. He lowered the garage door until it rested just about a foot off the ground so that the smoke had somewhere to go. Then he sat in front of you, hit the pack of cigarettes on his palm five times before unwrapping the cellophane and opening the pack. Joel took one cigarette out and flipped it upside down in the pack. 

“What are you doing?”

“Christ almighty,” he sighs. “You’re so fuckin’ young. You pack the cigarettes first, so they burn smoother an’ longer.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. And then you flip your lucky - just the one cigarette.” Joel pulled the upside down cigarette from the pack to demonstrate. “Old World War II tradition, if I’m not mistaken. ‘Sposed to be a good luck charm.” 

Joel pulled one cigarette from the pack for you, placed it between your lips and lit it. He could see the confused expression on your face as you inhale and exhale. 

“Just you wait,” he said. “I promise you, this is a punishment.” 

“How?”

“You’re gonna sit here with me and smoke every last cigarette in that pack. I don’t care f’your lungs start to burn and you feel sick to your stomach, you’re smokin’ ‘em all,” he said. “Now get to it.” 

Joel watched you as you smoked cigarette after cigarette. He was right, your lungs did start to ache and hurt and your stomach had begun to feel queasy from all the nicotine. After about the sixth or seventh, you had figured out that you could make things a little easier on yourself by not breathing in the smoke all the way, just let it hang out in your mouth instead. 

“I started smokin’ when I was around your age,” Joel said as he lit another cigarette for you. “Couldn’t ‘a been older than seventeen.”

You nodded. 

“Why’d you pick this habit up, huh? You know these things aren’t any good for ya.” 

“I don’t know,” you sighed, ashing onto the garage floor. “I just…I don’t know. Stressed out.”

“‘Bout what?”

You shrugged. “Just everything, I guess.” 

Joel nodded. “I get it,” he said. “But there’s other ways of relievin’ stress that ain’t smokin’.” 

“Like what?”

“Well,” Joel began, looking down at his lap. “The cigarettes are causin’ that brain of yours to release those feel-good chemicals. You gotta find something else that feels good, hon. M’sure you’ll figure out what that means.” 

 You felt your cheeks heat up at the implication of how to get your endorphins flowing, but you knew he wasn’t wrong. You nodded shyly. 

“Now keep smokin’.” 

“Joel,” you whined, coughing dryly. 

“Keep it up,” he threatened, “I’ll make it two packs.” 

What felt like hours passed until you finally made it to the last two cigarettes in the pack, and you felt ill. “C’mon,” Joel said. “Last two. I’m smokin’ the last one with ya, and then we’re done, both of us,” he promised. He lit his cigarette first, then yours, and then took a drag. You did too, though it was agony. 

“I don’t feel so good, Joel,” you told him, clutching your stomach and squirming in your seat as the nauseating feeling in your stomach worsened. 

“Good,” Joel retorted. “Means the punishment’s workin’. You ain’t ‘sposed to feel good.” You looked at Joel with glassy eyes, your skin a little damp with sweat. “You okay, sweetheart?”

You shook your head. Your stomach churned harder, you felt your mouth salivate as your heart began to beat faster. There was no more staving off the feeling - you dropped your cigarette and sprinted inside, making a beeline for Joel’s bathroom. Joel followed close behind and rubbed your back as you emptied your guts into his toilet until you were dry-heaving. “Oh, I know, I know,” he whispered, patting you gently. “You’re gonna be okay.” 

“Fuck,” you groaned, lifting your head up and leaning back to rest against Joel. He flushed the toilet for you, then helped you up so you could rinse your mouth out in the sink. 

“It don’t feel too good, huh?” he murmured, stroking the side of your face. “You’re gonna be a good girl for me? Gonna quit smokin’?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Yeah, I’m done.”

“Attagirl,” Joel smiled. 

Joel offered you some Pepto-Bismol and guided you to his couch, where he held you and talked. After about forty-five minutes, he sent you home. Your dad was none the wiser, probably passed out on his own couch after the game. Joel kept your secret under the condition that you’d quit smoking for good, and he quit too. In all honesty, he was shaken that it was his cigarettes you’d stolen, and disturbed by the fact he was the one to introduce you to tobacco - your dad didn’t smoke, never has. He had unknowingly introduced you to it, of course, but Joel still held himself responsible. Joel meant it, smoking that last cigarette with you. He decided that night he was quitting cold turkey. He was done.

-

You should have been done too. You shouldn’t still be doing this. And that pack of Marlboros in your purse shouldn’t be there, you should have thrown it out the other night when Joel caught you smoking out of your window. But you’re in Joel’s backyard, cigarette between your fingers as you listen to the sounds of the family barbecue taking place in your own backyard. 

It was just too much. Your family increases in size every year, be it a new partner, new family friends, new children. And your family is loud. Every conversation happens using raised voices, even if no one is speaking in anger. Boisterous laughter, dogs barking, shrill squeals of excited kids running through sprinklers. There’s no escape from it at all, unless you’re to escape it entirely - so that’s exactly what you did, and why you’re at Joel’s house instead of your own. You needed a momentary reprieve. Separated by nothing more than a thin fence and yet it makes all the difference. Joel’s backyard is quiet, serene. He keeps his fence lined with flowers that he had you pick out at the nursery, he has a nice deck with a comfortable patio furniture set. You rock back and forth in one of the chairs as you smoke, promising yourself after this cigarette - or maybe just one more - you’ll go back to the party. 

The glass patio door slides open, causing you to jump and scramble to put your cigarette out, but you’re too late. Joel’s always a step ahead, somehow. “What are you doin’, kiddo?” he asks in a low, accusatory tone. 

“Nothing,” you lie. 

“You’re smokin’.”

You hang your head. Joel sits in the chair next to you and holds out his hand, palm facing up. You sigh and place your pack in his hand. “I’m sorry.” 

“Uh-huh,” Joel says. “Why’re you still doin’ this? You’re poisoning yourself, sweetheart. It’s breakin’ my heart.” 

You shrug. “I don’t know,” you admit. You open your mouth to speak again, then exhale when you give up. 

“I want you to try,” he urges. “Jus’ talk to me, hon, you’re not in trouble right now. Tell me what’s goin’ on.” 

“Okay,” you nod. You take a deep breath, then begin to explain. “I want to quit, Joel. I do. I tried gum and patches…”

“Go on. I’m listenin’.” 

“They worked for a while, I guess. I was even able to stop entirely, get past the nicotine withdrawals. They weren’t even so bad.” 

“Right,” Joel nods, “But what?”

“It’s stupid.” 

“S’not stupid. Keep tellin’ me.” 

“I missed the ritual of it all, if that makes sense,” you confess. “ Lighting it, holding it. Watching the smoke. Feeling it in my mouth.” You find the courage to look at Joel, and he’s not making fun of you for your admission. He’s nodding along, listening intently. “It’s sort of soothing.” 

“I get it,” he says. “I do.”

“You do?”

“Mhm. S’called an oral fixation, sweetheart. Means it calms ya down to have somethin’ in that mouth of yours. You heard of it?” You shake your head no, and Joel explains further. “Same reason some people bite their nails or chew on straws. Jus’ somethin’ people do.” 

“Oh.” 

“Mhm. You should try keepin’ your mouth busy with somethin’ else.” 

Your mouth goes dry, and you feel yourself becoming flustered. “Joel…” you whisper. 

“Quite the imagination you got there, huh?” he smirks, nudging your knee with his own. “M’not talkin’ about that, dirty bird. Do you have a sweet tooth at all?”

“Um,” you hum, “I guess.” 

“I got a sweet tooth myself,” Joel replies. “C’mon inside.” 

Joel leads you inside, and he doesn’t bother to sneakily throw your cigarettes in the trash. He makes sure you can see it, hear the thud of the pack hitting the bottom of the can. You stand in his kitchen as he opens his freezer and rifles through some items. “Pick a flavor,” he says, “I got green apple, grape, cherry, and lemon.” 

“Cherry,” you answer. 

Joel pulls out a cherry-flavored popsicle and unwraps it for you. “Open,” he says, then places the cold, sweet and tart ice on your tongue. Your hand brushes his when you grab the wooden stick, watching him. You can see the way his pupils dilate when you suck on it, how his chest rises when he sucks in a deep breath. Joel feels his cock begin to thicken in his jeans and abruptly clears his throat. “So, uh, anyway,” he stutters, “It helps to suck on somethin’ sweet. I’ll keep my freezer stocked with these for ya, you just let me know if you have any flavor requests. You help yourself anytime you’re havin’ one of your cravings.”

You pull the popsicle from your mouth, your lips stained red. “Thanks, Joel,” you smile. 

“You’d best get back to that party, hon. I’ll catch up with ya in a minute, nature’s callin’,” he teases, quickly excusing himself into his nearby bathroom. He hears you giggle and whine, “Gross,” as you leave his house. Joel watches you through the frosted bathroom window as you sneak back into the party. He’s palming his growing bulge, pressing his hand firmly against it until he can’t see you anymore, then quickly unzips his jeans and pulls out his cock, leaking and hard. He spits into his hand and strokes himself, his rough palm sliding up and down his thick, veiny cock, squeezing hard. He pumps himself and groans when he comes, spilling into his palm and on his fingers. Joel washes his hands, tucks himself back into his jeans and makes his way back to the barbecue. 

-

You’re in Joel’s truck. It was a long day of work, the phone was ringing nonstop and you could hardly catch a break, though Joel gave you extra time on your lunch to make up for the crappy day. He has you helping him out with his contracting job, having you answer phones and schedule estimates and whatnot. He likes having you around, giving you a little money to burn as you expand your resume. 

At six, Joel tossed you his truck keys and told you he’d be right out there, but that he’s gotta finish up with a client real quick first. “Go ‘head and start up the truck for me, hon, I’ll be out there soon. Shouldn’t be more than ten minutes,” he promised. But that was an hour ago, and it’s beginning to get dark. You’re itching to leave. On days you work with Joel, he’s your ride. Oftentimes it’s a blessing as he’s the one paying for gas and driving through traffic, but other times, it’s a curse. You’re on Joel’s time, itching to leave and he’s…doing whatever he’s doing.

You’re getting that feeling again. You’re not sure why, but it’s been happening more and more lately. You’ve been absolutely craving a cigarette recently. Just one, maybe two. You shouldn’t have done it, but you bought a pack at the gas station. Promised yourself you’d save it for special occasions but after this pack, you’d be done. For good. 

You’re just dying for one right now. Turning the pack over in your hand, you watch, anticipating seeing Joel leaving the building. But it never happens. Fuck it. You take a cigarette out of your pack and place it between your lips, and just before you light it, you stop. You look around in his truck, see if he’s got a straw from a fast food restaurant in his glove box that you could chew on, maybe a toothpick. At least you tried. It certainly doesn’t help that it smells like cigarette smoke in here anyway, what with Tommy always smoking when he drives with Joel. You resign yourself to lighting the cigarette, inhaling that smoke you missed so much. That familiar burn doesn’t quite hurt the same way it used to and in fact, it’s a welcome pain now. You love that tingly, heady feeling of the nicotine entering your bloodstream. You exhale the smoke out of the window of the truck and close your eyes. 

You think about lots of things, what you’re gonna eat for dinner when you get home, what movie you’re gonna watch. What flavor popsicle you’ll steal from Joel’s freezer. You think about which vibrator you’re gonna use between your thighs, which ones are charged and which aren’t. 

You’re not being subtle. Shamelessly blowing smoke out of the window, Joel can see you. And in fact, he’s been watching you. He’s fuming as he walks toward his truck and opens his door, startling you and causing you to drop the lit cigarette on your lap. “You are un-fuckin’-believable,” he seethes as he leans over you to pick it up off of your thighs and tosses it out of the window. “In my truck? Are you fuckin’ serious?”

“Joel, I’m sorry–”

“Shut up,” he interrupts. “You pissed me off. I don’t wanna hear it.” 

You shrink into your seat and stare at your lap, anxiously circling your thumbs around each other as Joel breathes deeply. He leans back in the driver’s seat and pinches the bridge of his nose, groaning angrily. 

“Joel–”

“Don’t.”

In Joel’s head, he counts backwards from ten, attempting to let go of some of his rage. He looks at you, your eyes are big and pleading, those plump lips of yours are pouting, just begging, aching for something to fit snugly between them. “What am I gonna do with you, kiddo,” he whispers, reaching for your face and cupping your cheek. Fuck, that goddamn soft spot he has for you. “All sorts ‘a trouble you could go an’ get yourself into and you pick the one that’s makin’ you sick.” 

You nod, feeling guilty for putting Joel through this stress. You know he’s right. You’re gonna drive him to pick up the addiction again himself.

He rubs his calloused thumb back and forth over your cheekbone, looking at you with those big, brown eyes of his. They’re sparkling under the diminishing daylight, looking darker than they usually do. He’s so handsome. He’s always been so handsome. 

“Maybe you need to get into a different kinda trouble,” Joel murmurs. 

You pause. “Like what?”

“You know what kinda trouble,” he answers softly, assertively. You look down at his lap and notice that with his free hand, he’s begun palming his crotch, cock hardening in his jeans. “Somethin’ else to satisfy that fuckin’ fixation of yours.”

Joel unzips his jeans and pulls his cock out, half hard and growing. “Gimme your hand,” he instructs. He doesn’t wait for you to comply, and takes the pack of Marlboros you had forgotten you were holding out of your hand. He takes your hand and first spits in it, then wraps it around his cock, his fingers wrapped around your wrist as he helps you stroke him. His cock grows to full length in your hand, so thick and hard and meaty. “On your knees, now,” he says. “C’mon. You know what you’re doin’.” 

You sink to your knees and Joel slides to the center of the seat so you’re as close to him as can be. He spreads his legs apart and you slot yourself snugly between them, a hand on each one of his thick thighs. It feels surreal, being in this position. Joel senses your nervousness, and you look so vulnerable on your knees for him. Poor thing. 

He leans forward a little to tangle his fingers in your hair and then pulls you down, ushering you toward his hard cock. “Open up f’me,” he says. You part your lips and he presses the warm, blunt head against them. You open your jaw wider and he pushes you down on his cock, filling your mouth entirely. “Nice an’ wide. That’s it.” 

Joel keeps pushing you down, past the point of comfortability and you choke and sputter on his cock when he hits the back of your throat. “Just relax a minute,” Joel says. “An’ breathe through your nose, kiddo. You’ll get used to it.” 

With his hand tangled in your hair, it’s less of you moving of your own volition and more of Joel guiding you, making you take him down your throat the way he wants you to. You like that. As your head dips lower and bobs back up again, you swirl and drag your tongue along his shaft, tasting that heady, musky flavor of his cock, the salty precum when your tongue slides over his small slit.“Yeah, you know what to do,” Joel groans. “Ohh, that’s it. Good girl.” 

You feel his cock pulsing under your tongue, a welcome experience. There’s something so intimate and satisfying about learning all of the exact, fine details of what Joel’s pleasure looks and tastes like. He rolls his hips to meet you where you’re at, taking control of his pleasure, doing all the work himself. Sweat is beginning to gather on his body, dripping down his temples and gathering on his soft tummy. He can’t help but feel a little like he’s taking advantage of you right now, but he doesn’t feel bad enough to stop. In fact, it turns him on more. Joel thinks that maybe it even turns you on, too, what with the way you let out quiet, sweet little moans. “You like it, don’t you, baby?” 

“Mm-hmm,” you hum. 

“I know you do,” Joel coos. “Feels good, don’t it?”

You nod your head, moaning as you slide your tongue along his length, swirling it around his head before dipping lower again, your nose buried in those thick curls spattered around the base of his cock, dampened by your saliva. “What a mess you’re makin’,” Joel murmurs, enjoying those wet, sloppy noises you’re making. “Such a good girl f’me, you’re takin’ it so good.” 

You reach for his balls, cupping them and rolling them gently in your palm, eliciting a sharp gasp from Joel. “Oh, fuck,” he groans, “That’s it, kiddo, keep doin’ it jus’ like that. Goddamn.” 

Joel basks in the feeling of being inside your hot, wet mouth, feeling you suck and slobber on him, the dizzying feeling of your tongue teasing his shaft and his head. It’s all so soft, so slick and warm. He can feel it in his stomach, his balls begin to tighten as he approaches release. Joel takes your head in both of his big, masculine hands and fucks your mouth hard. “Oh, Christ,” he hisses. “Fuck, ohhh, fuck.” 

With just a few more deep, frenetic thrusts, Joel comes in your mouth without a warning, just a guttural, deep groan. He paints your tongue with his hot, salty spend, ropes and ropes of it spurting from his thick, twitching cock. He fucks your mouth through his orgasm, his thrusts turning slower, more shallow in time as you take every last bit of his come, swallowing it all. 

“Up,” he tells you, his voice raspy. “C’mere.” 

You sit next to Joel as he comes down from his high, his deep breathing beginning to regulate. Joel looks at you, wipes a bit of his come from your bottom lip with his thumb and pushes it inside your mouth, where you suck the digit and lick the spend. “S’all you needed, huh? My cock in your mouth?” Your face is hot and a little damp with sweat, your lips all swollen as you nod, a little sheepish. “No need to be bashful, sweetheart. S’okay. F’it works, it works.” 

Joel adjusts his jeans and turns up the air conditioner, then scoots back over into the driver’s seat. He pulls you close to his body, tucking you into his side as he shifts the truck into reverse, then drives out of the parking lot. “When that fixation of yours starts actin’ up again or you’re gettin’ nicotine cravings, you to come to me. Will you do that for me, sweetheart?”

You nod. “I will.” 

“Good girl,” he says. “I’ll get ya taken care of.” 

-

Your craving for a cigarette hits as early as the following night. To test you, Joel had surreptitiously dropped your last pack of cigarettes in your purse last night in his truck. You only noticed a little bit ago, when you were digging through your belongings to find your lip gloss. You could smoke them if you wanted to. You do want to. You could be sneakier about it, go for a walk and smoke somewhere Joel won’t see you. 

You slip on a pair of sneakers and throw a light sweatshirt over your shoulders, then walk out of your room and past your father in the living room. “Where you off to, sweetie?” he asks. 

“Just for a walk,” you answer quickly. To be honest, you weren’t expecting him to be awake. It’s late and the TV’s on, which usually means he’s sleeping. He can’t stay awake through any movie or TV show. 

“Mm,” he hums. “Be safe, honey. Come back soon, I don’t like you out too late all by yourself.” 

You promise your dad you’ll be back soon, then leave out of your front door and make a left. As you walk past your yard, then Joel’s, you realize he’s in his garage, tinkering with something at his workbench. He doesn’t see you, and you could walk on by without him noticing, smoke your secret cigarette and he’d be none the wiser. 

But you’d feel guilty. You feel guilty for even thinking about it. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, contemplating. Maybe Joel’s right, that you need to get yourself into a different kind of trouble. You used to feel thrilled when you’d drink underage or smoke when you shouldn’t have been. But Joel’s cock down your throat, on your knees for your dad’s best friend, a man who’s like a second father to you…Well, nothing compared to that thrill. 

You walk up Joel’s driveway and quietly into his garage, he’s got an old CD player on and he’s listening to Nirvana. “Joel?”

Joel turns to look over his shoulder and smiles at you. “Hey, you.” 

“I…” you struggle to get the words out. Joel nods in understanding, he knows exactly why you’re here. You’re such a good girl for him. Always been a good girl.

Joel pauses his CD player and takes your hand, then leads you inside his house. When you’ve finished sucking his cock, he tells you he’s glad you came to him and that he’s very proud of you. On your way home, you throw that pack of Marlboros away. And for once, you really are done. 

You suck his cock the next week at work, when you’re watching Tommy take a smoke break through the window next to your desk. You’re on the phone with one of Joel’s clients who’s been giving both you and him trouble all week, and you’re reaching the end of your rope with this guy. He’s old, impatient, and speaks so rudely to you. After you’ve argued with him in circles for about twenty minutes, he interrupts you and demands that you put him on the phone with a man. You’re livid. “Absolutely, sir. Let me place you on a brief hold and I’ll transfer you to my boss,” you tell him as sweetly. You press a few buttons on the phone and slam it on your desk, then march into Joel’s office, slamming the door and then locking it. 

Joel’s eyes light up. He rolls back in his chair and reaches behind himself to twist the blinds shut, then unzips his pants as you drop to your knees .

The routine happens day to day, week to week. Joel notices that there are days when you suck his cock aggressively, like you’re angry or you’re restless and antsy. But after a few weeks, they don’t quite feel that way anymore. You focus on his pleasure, and not your need to curb an addiction. It felt satisfying to have Joel’s cock down your throat before, and that certainly helped to satisfy your particular fixation. You’re more satisfied now at the notion of bringing Joel to absolute ecstasy, memorizing the way his breathing changes when you trace your tongue along his shaft and around his head. You’ve begun kissing up and down his length, gently sucking his balls and kissing his thighs, his tummy. You used to grip his thighs tight, digging your fingers into his flesh, but you hold his hand, now. It’s passion, adoration, maybe even love. You deserve the same pleasure, Joel thinks. 

Your dad’s out of town for a few days, he’s staying overnight in some city a few hours away for some work conference. He had stocked the fridge with different snacks and had tasked Joel with making sure you have something hot and filling each night for dinner, so you’ve spent the past few evenings at Joel’s house. 

 You’re on Joel’s couch, watching old reruns of Will and Grace on TV as Joel does the dishes. When he’s done, he joins you on the couch. When the show pauses for a commercial break, Joel mutes the TV. “Wanna talk to you ‘bout somethin’,” he says. You turn your attention to him. Joel’s hand drops to your thigh, and he scratches your skin lazily. His touch sends a jolt of excitement to your core. “You’ve been real good f’me, you know that, don’t you?” 

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. Been a long time since your last cigarette, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you reply, “Couple months, I think.” 

“S’what I thought,” he whispers. “An’ it’s why I wanna do somethin’ for ya.” 

“Do what?”

“Well,” Joel begins, inhaling deeply. His hand goes higher with every pass, fingers closer and closer to the apex of your thighs. You’re starting to feel hot. “I think it’s awful unfair ‘a me to be leavin’ you high and dry the way I’ve been. Not very gentlemanly, huh?” 

Joel’s fingers are wiggling beneath the fabric of your shorts, gently skating along your thin cotton panties. “Joel,” you whine. 

“I’m gonna make it even,” he murmurs softly into your ear, his hot breath tickling your neck. Joel drags the tip of his sharp, aquiline nose over the curve of your ear, then gently bites your earlobe, causing you to squirm. He smirks at that. “Gonna taste you.” 

Joel hovers over you, laying your body across his soft couch. He kneels as he hooks his fingers around your shorts and panties and pulls them down and off your legs, tossing them on the floor. 

His warm, big hands slide up your legs until he reaches your knees, “Spread your legs for me, sweetheart,” he says, and you part your thighs for him. He spreads them wider, pushing your knees toward your chest. Your nerves are on fire as he slides your shirt up your chest, exposing your bare body to him. “C’mere,” he mumbles, dipping his head low to kiss all over your torso, up your belly until he reaches the soft flesh of your breasts, nipping at the skin there before he sucks a nipple into his mouth. 

“Joel,” you gasp, your hands reaching for his head, fingers tangling in his thick, graying curls. He smirks against you as he kisses his way across to your other breast, repeating the same actions and kissing, licking down your stomach until he’s hovering over your pussy. Under the soft, warm light in the room, he admires your body. Your chest is rising and falling with shaky, nervous breaths. Your legs spread wide gives Joel the perfect view of your pussy, curls framing the shape of your cunt. Skin darkened and glistening wet, pearly ribbons of arousal delicately decorating your slick folds. He can’t wait any longer, he needs to taste you now. 

Joel quickly pulls his shirt off and unbuckles his belt, then kicks his jeans off where they join the rest of the discarded clothes on the floor. He settles on his stomach and pulls your body close to his face, his hot breath fanning over your damp, aching pussy. To tease you, he kisses his way toward your center, inching closer and closer to where you need him most yet not giving all the way in. “Please, Joel,” you whine. 

“Ohh, I know,” he rasps. He kisses the other thigh, then uses his thumbs to spread your soft folds apart for easier access and licks one long, fat stripe up your pussy. “Oh my god, yes,” you gasp. Joel chuckles at your excitement. He traces up and down with his tongue, his nose buried in the hair that covers your mound. You rock your hips into his face and he holds you tight, limiting your movement so that he holds all control. He’s feeling generous, and you’re going to take all that he gives you. 

“Fuck, right there,” you whimper when he licks your clit in circles. His tongue dips lower, circling your tight, wet hole before dipping inside to taste your sweet arousal. Joel hums in pleasure, he loves everything about this - the way you writhe and moan, how your dripping pussy feels against his face. He dips his tongue and swirls it inside of you before replacing it with two of his calloused, weathered fingers, rhythmically curling them inside you so that he’s hitting your g-spot. 

You’re moaning, babbling his name along with some other dirty words as Joel licks you and pumps his fingers, soaking him so intensely he thinks he could drown. He’d be happy to. There’s nothing he loves more than eating you out right now, passionately lapping your cunt like you’re the first meal he’s had in days. Your moans are becoming quicker, more frantic as you reach for his free hand and suck and bite his fingertips - always needing something in your mouth. He knows you’re close. Joel focuses on bringing you to the edge and sending you over, unwaveringly fucking you with his fingers and his tongue as your thighs are trembling and twitching, then squeezing the sides of his head as you come hard for him. “Joel,” you cry loudly. 

“Yeah, s’it. Give it to me, kiddo. That’s it,” he praises, “Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl.” 

Joel works you through your orgasm until the feeling subsides, and then pulls away from you. As you steady your breathing, you close your legs gingerly, hips sore from the position Joel held you in. Joel holds your knee, preventing you from moving any further. “Where do you think you’re goin’?”

“You made it even,” you breathe, reaching for his hand and placing yours on top.

“Nuh-uh, sweetheart. We ain’t square yet,” Joel spreads your legs again, then reaches for his cock. It’s rock-hard, the tip is blushed and swollen as he pumps it with his fist. “You gotta come on my tongue a couple more times than that before we’re even. And-” he grunts, adjusting his position before lowering himself over your body. He wraps your legs around his waist and notches his tip inside of you, “M’only a man. I’m gettin’ mine tonight too.” 

With that, he begins to push himself inside you. That slow, deep slide inside your cunt has him groaning in pleasure, Christ, you’re fucking tight. And so warm, soft, and wet. You squeal a bit as you adjust to the feeling of his cock inside of you, his cock splitting you open. “Shhh…” Joel quiets your moans. “Give it a minute, kiddo, you’ll get used to it.” 

You watch Joel as he slowly pulls out of you about halfway, then inches his way back inside you incrementally, little by little until your face relaxes and you let out that first sigh of pleasure. “Oh, there it is,” Joel coos. “Right there, huh?”

You nod, then wrap your arms around Joel's broad shoulders as he sets a steady pace. It’s slow, but not quite gentle at first, before it builds to something faster and harder. He rolls his hips at the perfect angle to have you squirming and writhing in pleasure, the head of his cock kissing that sweet spot inside of you over and over. You bury your face into him, biting softly where his neck and shoulders meet. His skin is so soft, slightly salty under your tongue. 

“Fuck, good girl,” he praises, kissing the side of your head where your hair is slightly damp with sweat. With each of his thrusts, you feel every inch of him. The scruff on his face brushing against you, his weight on your body, his skin on your skin, his pubic bone grinding against you. He fucks you passionately, sometimes quickening his thrusting, sometimes slowing it down, fucking you with longer, slower strokes. You bask in the sensation, entirely consumed in it all, in Joel. “You’re doin’ so good.” 

You rock your hips to match each one of his thrusts, needing more friction against your clit. “M-more, Joel,” you beg. “I wanna come. Please, Joel, make me come again.” 

Still fucking you, Joel spits onto his fingertips and wriggles his hand between your body. He searches for your swollen, sensitive bud and then paints steady circles into it, using the motion of his thrusting to help bring you to the edge once more. “Right there,” you tell him. “Don’t stop, please.” 

“I know, I gotcha,” he says. “Go ‘head and come for me, baby. Come all over my cock.”

You’re right there, right fucking there as he rounds your clit again and again with his fingers. Your reaction is more intense than before; your moans are louder now, pleading, more urgent. Your brows are knit together, mouth wide open when you go quiet - you’re gonna come, and it’s gonna be long and fiery and intense. 

Pure, unadulterated pleasure is all you feel when you finally reach your climax, moans and whimpers falling from your lips like honey until you’re crying Joel’s name, begging him as he fucks you through it. Begging for what, you don’t know. “Joel, Joel, Joel.” 

Your orgasm propels Joel’s own, and he’s growling into your ear as he spills into you, milking himself entirely. His come feels so warm inside you, so satisfying. “Oh, fuck me. Jesus, hon,” he groans. “Ohhh, god.” 

His thrusts slow, slow, then stop. He whimpers a little when he pulls out of you, then sits back on the couch. His head resting against the back of it, he turns to you. His eyes travel down your body, where some of his spend drips from your pussy. He pushes it back inside you, finger buried all the way to the knuckle, then pulls you into his side. 

“You’re gonna kill me,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. 

You look up at him, “Why?” 

Joel smirks. “ Could use a cigarette,” he answers. “Hits the spot right after sex.”

“Fuck off,” you giggle. “You said we’re done.” 

“We are done,” he affirms. “But our deal’s still in place. Which means…” Joel gently pushes you onto your stomach, then pulls you up by your hips. “We’re goin’ for another round.” 

If you enjoyed, please reblog/send an ask with some nice comments! Your words keep me motivated to write.

I just…. I never knew how much I need this until you blessed us all with it! 🫠🫠🫠

First time writing Joel too?! YOU KILLED IT!!!!

Me, You, and Baby, Too

Summary: You and Joel have always wanted kids, but didn't want to rush into having them until you both were ready. After a surprise at his job, Joel realizes there's nothing more he wants to do than put a baby in you as soon as he gets home.

Pairing: Husband!Joel Miller x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (it's baby making time, so hush), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, big ole fat and nasty breeding kink (.... don't look at me it's bad), creampie, cum play, talks of starting a family, calling Joel "Daddy" (in the sense you want to have his babies, but also 🤷🏼‍♀️), Sweet soft Joel who loves his wife and would give her the universe if he could, honestly with just the way Joel is talking about makin' babies, I think I'm pregnant

A/N: It's that time of the month where Madeline ovulates and writes feral breeding kink smut!!! 🤪 Okay I am so nervous to post this because I have never written for Joel before and I'm worried it's trash with a capital T, but after re-watching TLOU, I need 2003 Joel Miller carnally, so here we are. This is also inspired by @mrsmando post about 2003 Joel Miller constantly keeping you barefoot and pregnant because it made me unwell, and no lies were told. (thanks for ruining my life mimi) 🤠 ANYWHO I hope you guys like it, and if not, I'll shut up and go back to writing Javi and Frankie and pretend like this didn't happen

There were a lot of stereotypical answers that you expected from your husband when you asked him how his day at work had been:  

“Good.” 

“Fine.” 

“Long.” 

“My knees are killin’ me.” 

“Tommy did somethin’ fuckin’ stupid again.” 

“Better now that I’m home with you.” 

So when Joel arrived home today after a new job he had started with Tommy on a bathroom renovation, there were few things that could have prepared you for the response your husband had when you asked him how his day had gone. 

“Hey, honey. How was your day today?” You smiled, watching Joel stroll in through your front door, kicking off his work boots at the entryway, beginning to put away his things before strolling into the kitchen to greet you. 

“Pretty good." He paused, leaning in for a quick kiss before making his way over to the closet before speaking again. "Saw a real cute baby today.” 

You could practically feel your heart skip a beat as you looked up from the vegetables you had been cutting up for dinner, tightening the grip you had around your knife to make sure you didn’t drop it in shock. 

Out of all the things for Joel to bring up on the first day at a new job, a cute baby had been at the top of the list.

Not floor plans. 

Not timelines for the project.

Not something stupid that Tommy did. 

Not even what he had done today on the job. 

The top news that Joel Miller had to report back to you about his day was the sighting of a cute baby. 

You and Joel had always agreed that you’d wanted kids, and your husband had been not only adamant, but genuinely excited at the prospect of becoming a dad. But only being a little less than a year into your marriage, the two of you had decided you didn’t want to rush into anything, and when the time felt right, you’d both know it. 

But one by one, as your friends began to announce their pregnancies, baby showers, and pictures of their adorable newborns, you couldn’t help but deny the baby fever starting to burn hotter and hotter inside you with every passing day. 

You’d brought it up in passing a few times with Joel, talking about your friends who had kids, or a cute mom and her children you saw walking around in your neighborhood, and while he had always had a positive response to what you had to say, you just had a feeling that now just wasn’t the time for the two of you yet, and that was okay.  

But here you were, standing in your kitchen, jaw practically scraping the ground at the notion that your husband had dropped just about the least subtle hint ever that babies weren’t just at the forefront of your mind- they were on his, too. 

“Awh, really?” You asked, shaking your head to snap out of your shocked state, returning back to dice the onion you had been working on before Joel could turn around to see you after finishing hanging up his things in the closet, trying to subtly coax more information out of him. 

“Yeah.” He smiled, joining you in the kitchen, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer to his chest for a soft kiss to greet you, “The family we’re startin’ the bathroom reno for just moved in. Had their first baby a few months ago and just hadn’t had time to work on fixin’ things.” 

“So they’re already putting the baby to work with you and Tommy?” You teased, raising an eyebrow at Joel playfully, giving him a quick peck back on the lips as he laughed at your sass. 

“Cheap labor.” Joel shrugged back, playing into the joke, “Nah, she woke up from her nap while Tommy and I were runnin’ through some measurements so her mom brought her out for the last lil bit we were there. She was damn cute, too. Just smilin’ and laughin’ at everything.” 

You were glad Joel’s arm was still wrapped around your hip, because you were convinced if it wasn’t, you were about to melt to the floor into a puddle, watching how soft and sweet Joel was talking about a cute, smiling baby. 

“Well a cute baby definitely sounds like a very nice perk of being on the job.” You smirked, trying to play it cool enough to keep your heart from bursting out of your chest. 

“Yeah.” Joel replied softly, quietly pausing for a moment, watching the gears turning in his brain, carefully calculating his words before he spoke. 

“You okay?” You asked, looking up at Joel, knowing your husband well enough that he had something on his mind he was trying to work up the confidence to spit out. 

Joel looked back down at you, big brown eyes locking with yours as his grip around your waist tightened ever so slightly, tongue swiping against his plush bottom lip as he took a long, deep breath in and slow exhale out.  

“Honey, what is it?” You asked again, now slightly concerned with how nervous your husband looked in his stoic silence, reaching up to gently wrap your fingers around his arm, thumb stroking his skin. 

“I want one.” 

You froze, worried that your heart may have actually stopped as you looked at Joel, making sure that you had really just heard what he had said. 

“W-what?” 

“I want one. A baby. I- I know it’s been a while since we’ve talked about it, but I’ve been thinkin’ about it a lot, and seein’ that baby today, it just- shit, I just couldn’t stop picturin’ what it would be like to have one of our own I guess.” 

If you weren’t a puddle before, you sure as fuck were now.  

An overwhelming sensation of nerves and excitement began thrumming through your veins, your heart beat pounding in your ears as your face grew warm and a smile started to spread between your cheeks. You were almost certain you had to be dreaming, asking again to make sure that someone needed to come and wake you up and send you back to reality. 

“Joel… Really?” 

“Yeah, really. Nothin’ I want more. I know I ain’t gonna even be close to the perfect dad, but I know you’ll be sucha good mom, and I’ll be damned if I don’t want some tiny lil versions of us runnin’ around. Couldn’t think of anything that would make me happier than that. Like I said, I know that we ain’t talked about in a while, and if ya aren’t ready yet that’s okay but I-” 

Before Joel could even finish the rest of his thought, you were pressing up to plant your lips to his with passionate intensity, hands roaming up his chest before cupping his jaw and the scratchy stubble of his cheeks while your stomach flipped with arousal and want, already feeling a damp patch beginning to pool in the cotton of your underwear. 

You pulled away, kisses traveling along his jawline and up his neck until you were nipping at his ear, the hot breath of your words whispering against his skin. 

“You wanna make a baby, Joel Miller?” 

“Fuck-” Joel groaned, reaching his other arm around you grab at your ass, pulling you in tight enough to feel the bulge beginning to grow under the denim of his worn jeans, pressing against your thigh.

“‘Cause there’s nothing that I want more than to make you a daddy.” You smirked, looking up to watch Joel’s eyes darken with lust, jaw going slack as a low groan rumbled in his chest, his once half hard cock now fully erect and straining against his zipper, trying to keep from giggling watching your husband try to string together any sort of thoughts to speak. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ-” He moaned, running his hand over his face to try and regain his composure to keep from busting right then and there. “You- fuck, you sure, baby?” 

“Mhmmmm. Don’t think I’ve ever been so sure of anything in my whole life. So sure,” you paused, softly pressing your lips to his between words, “that I think we should go make one right now.” 

Your adamant confirmation was all it took to set off something almost animalistic in Joel, crashing his lips back into yours in a messy clash of tongues and teeth, gripping his hands under your thighs to hoist you up around his hips and lock your legs behind the small of his back. Without ever letting your mouths part, Joel was already halfway to the bedroom before you had even realized it, playfully giggling at how frantically he was carrying you down the hallway, your bodies bumping against the walls and door frames, too focused on desperate and needy kisses for any sort of spatial awareness. 

Finally reaching your bed, Joel carefully laid you down, letting your back fall into the mattress, leaving your lower half to hang off the edge before your husband was on his knees, settling himself between your parted thighs. 

You sat up on your elbows, watching as Joel tightened his grip around the meat of your legs, peppering kisses up the inside of each across your soft skin before coming face to face with your core, planting another soft kiss there before letting his fingers ghost over your heat, still covered by your jeans. 

He rapidly worked at the button of your pants, shuffling them down off your hips to reveal your underwear, now absolutely soaked with arousal from the prospect alone of Joel knocking you up and carrying his baby. 

“Jesus Christ, baby girl, look at ‘cha.” Joel tutted, admiring how the cotton of your underwear clung to the outline of your cunt, sticking to the puffy and swollen lips of your pussy from how wet you were. “Haven’t even touched ya yet. This all for me, darlin’?” 

Just as you began to try and answer, Joel took one of his fingers, barely dragging it over the damp fabric before beginning to rub soft circles over your covered clit, eliciting a pathetic whimper from you at the electric sensation.  

“F-fuck- It’s all for you, b-baby.” You stammered, moaning even louder as a second finger joined the first, pressing more pressure into you sensitive nub as he nudged each of your legs to drape over his shoulders, his free hand tugging at the waistband of your underwear, making you instinctually lift your hips as he yanked them off your legs to crumple in a messy pile with your pants. 

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever seen.” Joel mewled, running his fingers up and down through the weeping seams of your folds, toying with your entrance while draping his arm across your hips to hold your squirming lower half in place. “Wants me to fuck her full of me and fill her up so bad, huh?” 

“P-please, Joel. Want you to fill me up so badly.” You whimpered, staring down at your husband, a devilish grin spread across his face, licking his lips as his eyes darted back and forth between your blissed out face and the glistening mess between your thighs. 

“I will sweetheart, promise. Gotta taste you first though, baby. Gotta make sure you’re nice n’ready for me. ‘Cause once we start, I ain’t lettin’ you outta this bed ‘till I knock you up.” 

With that, Joel was diving between your legs, lapping you up in long and firm strokes, pressing against your clit in the way he knew would make you fall apart under his tongue. While he would have loved to have spend hours just like this, making you writhe under his touch, drinking up your arousal like a wandering man parched in the heat of the desert, Joel had one thing on his mind, and one thing only- 

To get you pregnant.   

Joel began to intensify the pace of his tongue, swirling and sucking around your clit as two of his thick fingers pushed into your heat, sliding in and out of your entrance with ease from how wet and worked up you were. Curling his fingers ever so slightly, you cried out as Joel bumped against your g-spot, pushing against the soft, spongy spot as his tongue worked its magic. 

You could feel the arousal shooting through your veins, heat beginning to bloom in your stomach as Joel fucked you with his fingers and mouth, shooting your hand down to grab fistfulls of his thick, brown hair to brace yourself for your impending orgasm. 

“J-Joel, oh fuck- Fuck, baby, I’m c-close. Don’t stop, please, don’t stop.” You whined, pussy beginning to flutter around Joel’s fingers, the tightening only egging him on further to get you to cross the finish line. 

With just a little more pressure of his tongue, Joel could feel your cunt clamping down around his digits, watching the pleasure shoot through your body as you came, your orgasm crashing through you like a tsunami. 

As you reached your high, Joel drank up your arousal, not faltering in his pace, too focused on your pretty cries of his name being chanted like a prayer to do anything but keep going and making you feel good. 

Truth be told, Joel had gotten so lost between your thighs, the only thing stopping him was the tensing feeling between his, so pussy drunk and determined to fuck you full of him that he was worried he was about to cum too if he didn’t stop. 

Pulling off you, Joel frantically stood up, racing to undo his belt and jeans, yanking them down his legs in tandem with his boxers as his cock slapped against his stomach, precum already pearling from his tip, desperate to be inside of you. His shirt quickly followed his pants, ripping it over his head as his broad body caged yours under him, helping you to scoot back on the bed until your head hit the pillows, trailing kisses up and down your body the whole way. 

As Joel kissed and nipped at your skin, you quickly shuffled off your top and bra, leaving you bare beneath him, moaning as his tongue flicked against each of your newly exposed pebbled nipples, grouping your breast and kneading the soft flesh in his palms. 

Even though you had just came, you could already feel your cunt starting to clench around nothing, desperate to feel Joel inside of you, to stretch you out with his thick cock and fuck you until you couldn’t think straight. But with the way your chest was heaving and breath shaking from your orgasm, you could barely muster out the words you wanted. 

“J-Joel, p-please, baby. P-please.” 

You snaked your hand between your bodies to reach for Joel’s cock, wrapping your fingers around his length and swiping your thumb over his leaking tip, a low groan rumbling in his chest as you stroked him, trying to guide him to slide between your legs and ease your ache. 

Lowering his hips, you moved your hand and let his replace it, Joel pumping himself a few times before guiding his tip between your folds, collecting your slick to coat his cock, using every last ounce of self-control he had as his eyes locked with yours, wanting to see your face as he pushed inside you. 

“Please, what, darlin’?” Joel teased, knowing damn well what you were begging for. 

“Need to feel you, Joel. Need you to put a baby in me.” You moaned, reaching up to grab his face, your palm rubbing against his stubble as your fingers tugged on the curls at the nape of his neck. 

With one more pump, Joel lined himself up with your entrance, sliding into your heat, the sweet stretch and sting of his length making the breath hitch in the back of your throat, filling you up inch by inch until he bottomed out inside you with his tip just kissing your cervix. 

Joel couldn’t help but smirk as he watched your mouth fall open, parted lips letting a soft moan escape while your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head at the newfound sensation, giving you another moment to adjust before he began to slowly roll his hips, dragging his cock in and out of your core. 

“Christ, baby girl, so wet and tight. Like this pussy was made just for me. Made for me to fuck ya full of me until it’s got no choice but to fuckin’ take.” Joel groaned, reaching down to grab your thighs, pinning your knees to your chest, stretching you open to take Joel even deeper, practically feeling him in your stomach with the position he had you in. 

“Joel, oh my god- fuck, you feel so good. Fuck, baby. Want you to fill me up so bad.” You whimpered, Joel now beginning to pick up his pace as he thrust in and out of you, continually punching in that perfect spot over and over again, leaving your brain bordering on short circuiting. 

Joel’s fingertips dug deeper into the flesh of your thighs, pushing your legs down just far enough to be chest to chest with you, the sweat dampened curls of his forehead brushing against yours as your mouths met in an electric kiss, catching each other’s muffled moans with each snap of Joel’s hips. 

“Yeah, sweetheart? Want me to fill you up? Fuck a baby into you? Let everyone see what a pretty momma you are, carryin’ our kid?” Joel grunted, picturing you, months from now, belly round and tits swollen, pregnant with your baby, wondering how many you’d let him give you, because fuck, he’d keep knocking you up until he had nothing left to give. 

Each push and pull of your bodies against each other felt more and more electric, an undeniable coil tightening in your stomach with the way Joel was pounding into you and the hairs at the base of his cock were brushing against your clit, already feeling yourself beginning to teeter on the brink of pleasure once again. 

“Yes, fuck, fuck- yes, Joel. I wanna have your baby. Want you to knock me up so I can make you a daddy. Please, baby, please.” You were all but sobbing at this point, your fingers digging into the tan and sweat sheened skin of Joel’s broad shoulders, overwhelmed by the lewd combinations of Joel’s heavy pants in your ear and wet squelching of your pussy as his pelvis flushed against yours repeatedly. 

Joel could feel you beginning to tighten around him, pussy sucking him in with its warmth and wetness, ready to clamp around his cock and milk him for all he was worth. 

“That’s it, darlin’, I know you’re close. Gotta cum for me first though, baby girl. Gotta feel ya soak me before I stuff ya so full of me, I swear t’god, you’ll be drippin’ outta me for days. So fuckin’ full that I’ll get you pregnant right now.” Joel groaned through gritted teeth, leaning back to reach and grab your leg, wrapping it around the small of his back before you lifted your other to join it, locking your ankles to keep him as close to you as possible. 

“Joel, oh my god, fuck baby, fuck, I’m gonna- fuckfuckfuck-” 

Suddenly, your orgasm was rushing through every inch of you, crying out as the pleasure hit you like a freight train, choking Joel’s cock with your pussy, unable to do anything but relish in the white hot bliss that had you nearly floating out of your own body. 

While Joel would have kept fucking you until the sun went down, the truth was he was relieved to feel you cum, spending every second since your agreement in the kitchen trying to keep from finishing until he was balls deep inside you and you were soaking his cock as you reached your high. The realization that now was his chance to make good on his promise, to fill you up and fuck a baby into you, ignited something primal, feral, in him, pounding into you at a punishing pace as he could feel himself teetering on the brink of collapse right with you. 

“That’s my girl. That’s it, cum all over my cock, baby. Shit, I’m gonna cum too, fuck- gonna fill this tight lil pussy up so goddamn much, give you a baby, make you a momma, oh fuck!” 

With one final stutter of his hips, Joel let out a strangled moan, flushing his hips against yours as he milked himself of every last drop, painting your warm, wet walls with hot ropes of his spend, making sure nothing went to waste. 

He couldn’t help but but press even further into you, plugging you with his length and fucking his cum as deep as he could into your cunt to make sure it took, collapsing on top of you with his cock still buried in your heat, letting your chests heave together in sync as you both caught your breath. 

Joel was convinced he had never cum so much in his entire life, afraid that if he pulled out, that somehow he’d have more left to give, and sure as fuck wasn’t going to risk letting anything coming out of him end up not inside of you. 

Well, not until your muffled grunt rumbled beneath him. 

 “Joel, baby, I love you but you’re kinda squishing me.” You huffed, giggling to yourself as you watched your husband come-to in real time out of his post-orgasmic state, immediately offering a half muttered apology as he rolled off you, sitting back on his knees to admire the shiny and slick mess between your legs. 

“Fuck me…” Joel murmured to himself, eyes wide as he stared at your pussy- wet, puffy and soaking with your arousal, bringing his fingers to your spent hole as he watched a dribble of his cum begin to leak out. Gently scooping it up, he collected everything he could, pressing it back into your cunt before pulling his hand out. Crawling up the bed to lay next to you, Joel wrapped you up in his arms as the little spoon, peppering ticklish kisses over your back and shoulders, making you burst into laughter. 

“Joel, stop! That tickles!” You squealed, squirming in his grasp, trying to defend yourself from his unrelenting attack of soft, plush lips and scratchy beard dancing across your skin. 

“Don’t laugh so damn hard, or all my hard work’s ‘bout to come out!” Joel teased, giving you a playful nudge, pulling you in even closer. 

“Stop making me laugh, then! Plus, I think you came enough to put quadruplets inside of me, so I think we’ll be okay.” You snorted, Joel joining in on the laughter. 

“Baby, I don’t think I’ve ever came that hard in my whole goddamn life.” Joel sighed, shrugging as you rolled your head up to look at him and that stupid goofy grin he got whenever he couldn’t contain his excitement about something. “God, I love you.” 

“I love you too, Joel.” 

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, Joel slowly bringing his arm to rest across your stomach, thumb slowly tracing careful circles on your skin. 

“You’re gonna make such a good mom. I’m the luckiest man alive that you wanna have a family with me. Still not really sure what I ever did to deserve it.” 

“Joel! You’re gonna make me cry! And this is before pregnancy hormones, ya jerk.” You tried to laugh, choking back the tears welling in your eyes. 

“Yeah, what a jerk, your husband tellin’ you how much he loves you.” He teased back, planting a long kiss on your temple, before pressing another one to your lips. Another wave of soft silence followed, watching Joel’s face scrunch in a calculated concentration. “How big of a crib you think I gotta make? I don’t know ‘bout a rockin’ chair, but a crib can’t be that hard. I gotta measure the guest room tomorrow.” 

“Honey, I don’t even know if I’m pregnant yet, you don’t need to have a crib built tomorrow.” You teased, laughing at Joel, despite the fact his mind was already thinking about a baby room and accessories had you melting. 

“Sweetheart, what did I say earlier? I ain’t lettin’ you outta this bed ‘till we know there’s a baby in there.” He smirked, nodding at his hand still splayed across your stomach, “So you better get comfortable, ‘cause if it’s up to me, there ain’t a chance in hell we’re gettin’ anything but a positive pregnancy test at the end of this month, and we'll sure need that crib nine months from now. Never hurts to get a head start."

Tag List: (Sorry if I tagged you and you don't wanna be tagged, just let me know!!)

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper r @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

🥹🥹🥹

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."

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Absolutely stunning!

😭

Purpose feat. Joel Miller & Hel my contribution for @perotovar's FRITH Celebration

Summary: Everyone has a purpose, but Joel is running from his. Read the prompt here.

Jackson!Joel Miller + Hel | Rating: 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 1,972

Content Warnings: multiple mentions of death, mourning, grief, loss, mention of suicide attempt

Author's Notes: Thank you @perotovar for the gift of this pairing - you're a true gem in this community 💜🥩💜 read all the Frith Fics here.

Thank you to @strang3lov3, @noxturnalpascal, @bitchesuntitled & @weregirlbyknight for their eyes and love. dividers made by @saradika-graphics

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Sitting on an old rocking chair on his front porch, Joel watched the procession go by his home towards the graveyard at the end of the main road. 

Jackson mourns another, he thought to himself.

He sees the family of the departed, holding each other as they walk slowly behind the horse-drawn wagon carrying their beloved person in a pine box, and he knows the sorrow that robs them of a full breath and a full night’s sleep. He watched the two children, clutching to their weeping mother and then he looked down, unable to watch them. 

He knows they’re permanently changed because of grief, and that has given him a purpose.

She had come to him in a dream as he lay with his head bandaged and pride wounded in a FEDRA camp; Sarah was gone and his botched self-inflicted wound hadn’t let him join her. The first time she visited him, it was just a feverish nightmare of teeth and rot, struggling ineffectively against a black abyss slowly pulling him under. This dream became a regular occurrence for months, waking him drenched in sweat with panting breaths, his eyes darting wildly around in the darkness.

It wasn’t until one still and quiet night as he slept on the forest floor, his head on his backpack and his gun gripped in his hand, that she finally showed Her face. Serene and chaotic, sublime and intolerable, She stood preternaturally still above him. The scent of Her wafted over him as he rubbed his eyes, attempting to shake off the clutch of sleep. She reeked of damp earth and decay. When She finally stirred, Her every minute movement seemed to echo in antiquity, sounding of trees in the distance being forced to bow and break from a hurricane. She smelled of damp earth and decay. 

He forced himself fully awake before She was able to speak, and he refused to allow Her to ever get a word out to him. In a few blinks of his eyes She was gone.

She attempted to visit him more and more so he started drinking to relieve him of the hauntings. The alcohol helped for a while, but then Her gnarled bone hands pulled his unconscious mind open and began to let Her decayed flora seep in. But the pills… the pills are what finally stopped Her.

Nearly two decades of all of the pills and alcohol he could get his hands on kept Her out of his dreams and out of his head. There would be echoes with no origin and fleeting shadows telling him She was never far, but he remained out of reach. Internally, he blamed Her for plaguing his mind with Sarah’s last moments, reliving the moment on repeat, having to hear her begging and crying out to him as he held her for the last time. Some nights, he could still smell the gunpowder and blood that clung to his memories as he slipped into an inebriated slumber. 

He blamed the terrible thing She was - the decayed abomination that haunted him - for making him relive the darkest moments of his life, plying himself with drink and drugs to keep Her away. And it worked; it worked for so long that any indication that She was around, Joel learned to dismiss as foundations settling or leaves blowing in the trees. 

All of that changed when he lost Tess and gained Ellie. An uncanny switch in his partner, forcing him into a role he’d long since abandoned - father. Ellie held a mirror up to him, forcing him to see what he’d become and face what he was running from. The honest horrors of time and grief had etched and eroded him, and he saw shards of Her woven into the old man he was becoming, and gradually, he came around to Her.

Joel hadn’t touched a drink or drug since returning to Jackson with Ellie. They hadn’t found anything at the university beyond the evidence of the Fireflies having been there at one point, and with no indication of where they went they returned to Tommy’s new community.

Two years of sobriety had landed Joel with a clearer mind and a better temperament. She had stayed away as if to say you had your chance, and it was a bittersweet relief to him. 

Until Tommy died. 

He’d led a reconnaissance party out to secure the area surrounding the town, and Tommy’s horse got spooked, making a wrong step and falling off an embankment. While his grief swelled in him like a balloon, Joel took solace that he’d had two years with him before losing his brother again, and that at least Tommy’s death was quick. He knew he couldn’t fall apart like he had with Sarah, and that he had to be strong for Ellie, for Maria and Tommy’s child, and for the town. The funeral took place as soon as his body had returned to Jackson and that night, Joel laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. 

His eyes were wide open and he was awake when Her sweet and putrid smell washed over him in a cold, dark mist. His grief allowed no room for further pain, so Joel found that he did not feel fear. He felt at peace.

The sounds that crawled out from Her gaping maw swirled around him and words formed from them in his mind.

My beloved child - you are returned. You are needed. Tragedy and renewal bind you to me. The sun has his moon and the moon has her sun. Life turns to death and death bores life. Decay gives way to rebirth.

He woke with a startled hacking cough to find his room lit by the pale morning sun shining weakly through his bedroom window. It took him a moment to get his bearings and remember where he was. It felt like only seconds before that She was speaking to him; he could still smell the rot that heralded Her, and once he calmed down, he was surprised that he felt comforted by it. 

It was from there that the ravens began to hang round the front of his house on the fence and trees. When he sat on the front porch, they even dared to come right up and sit on the railing, quirking their heads as they made eye contact and small clucks at him. 

The ravens carried on visiting him with a cautious curiosity for a few weeks until She visited him again in the night. He was wide awake during an intense spring storm that had knocked out the power. He was trying to light the storm lamp when he felt the air in the room grow stale and damp and the sounds the the winds outside faded into dulled white noise. The flame that he’d managed to light flickered and sank low, barely casting a light beyond a faint amber and his breathing echoed in his living room, and She moved from the shadows, and her terrible and beautiful voice crept out into the room. 

My beloved child - grown in grief.

Joel looked at her, feeling his heartbeat slow and his mind quiet, and he nodded to Her. They watched one another as Joel tried to summon the courage to ask something - anything. 

“Who are y-”. His words caught in his throat before he finished as the realization that he already knew Her and Her name. It was etched in his soul and echoed in his heart. 

Hel. Goddess of death and guide to the underworld. Her name was one that should have struck terror into him from years of his Catholic grandmother forcing him and his brother to mass, and given the amount of death that he’d experienced and partaken in, part of his thought that fear should have come from seeing this as his reckoning. But instead, he felt peace in her terrible presence. He dropped to his knees and the start of tears burned his eyes. He felt the grief of everyone he had lost wash over him in waves, coming to the surface and gasping for air. Joel had spent so long trying to choke that grief and suffocate it where it sat in him, but on his knees before Her broke him wide open and gave air to the parts of his soul that he’d worked so hard to kill.

Joel woke up the next day and it was different. He moved through the day as he normally did, but inside he felt more assured of himself, feeling a peace he hadn’t known since before Sarah was born. There was a slight change in him, a light flickering in his eyes that others picked up on but said nothing about. That and the ravens.

No matter where Joel went, there was a raven nearby. If he stayed in place - at a town meeting or at home -  the ravens would slowly settle one by one until their entire unkindness was perched on the trees and eaves, waiting for him to move again. Day by day, it became more apparent to the other residents of Jackson that Joel wasn’t the same; the silent and harsh somberness that had left them wary of interacting with him had turned to a quiet warmth that radiated from within. 

At first, Joel thought this change in him was for the dead - or those that were making the transition. He sat with the sick and elderly in the medical clinic, ensuring they weren’t alone as they moved on, taking up the mantle of guide. 

But it didn’t feel right. His heart would ache in the morning from the looks of those left behind by their loved one’s departure. Joel would watch as families and friends would be thrown into their mourning, and he’d feel the familiar sting in his throat. He would leave the clinic, chest ripped open and wound burning, and he’d be right back in the throws of his own loss. Sarah, Tess, Tommy… Sarah, Tess, Tommy… Sarah, Tess, Tommy… Sarah, Tess, Tommy… Sarah, Tess, Tommy… Sarah, Tess, Tommy… 

But he would return, suffering for his perceived purpose, and repeat the cycle over and over again. 

It wasn’t until one night as he sat next to Charles, the 80-something year old who’d fallen and broke his hip, that Joel finally made the connection. 

“I mourn for what they will become…”, Charlie murmured softly, causing Joel to turn his head from counting the ravens through the window.

“Hmm? What’re you talkin’ about, Charlie?”

“My children. My Grandchildren. My friends… when I leave…”, he spoke wearily, then looked at Joel. “You know how grief changes people. Especially now. Look around. We shouldn’t mourn the dead, we should mourn who the living become because of it.”

Joel swallowed thickly. It was as though Charlie had set off a chain reaction in his head, connecting dots and seeing the truth of it. He looked into the old man’s eyes and saw Her there already, ready to guide him herself. 

He is for the living.  Again, that change in him seemed to glow brighter.

Charlie adjusted himself slowly in the bed and took in Joel with a crackled smile. “Ah. Now there’s a man with a purpose.”

The old man passed on as the pale morning crept over the mountains, and Joel wept by his side, thankful for the last bit of wisdom the old man gave.

Joel thinks back about his journey as he sees the last of the funeral procession pass his porch and he stands up, looking at the ravens. He gives them a curt nod and sighs, “Let’s go.”

He steps out onto the road and walks towards the home of the recently departed, ready and waiting to guide them through their grief so their own transition is peaceful. 

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Ohhhh this was so sweet!!!!

😍😍😍

kissogram

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Teen (18+ only blog!) warnings: drunk Joel, soft possessive Joel, lovesick Joel, wingman Tommy, fluff, idiots in love and in denial word count: 1.8k summary: A familiar sound wakes you from the soft slumber you'd not long fallen into - sounds you'd dreamed about in the months since meeting Joel Miller. This time, as you creep down the stairs to come face-to-face with your intruder, you can be certain it's not a man decked out in plush red velvet.

A/N: happy birthday to Joel Miller, happy TLOU day to us, and, most importantly, happy GOD DAMN IT ARE YOU CLOSE TO SAYING YOU LOVE EACH OTHER YET day to these two babies.

I'll be back with more dress up!Joel in 5 weeks 💛

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A familiar sound wakes you from the soft slumber you'd not long fallen into. The click of a door. The woosh of your house decompressing. Muffled footsteps. They were sounds that your own ears hadn't heard in months, and yet ones you'd heard a hundred times over in your dreams since that first day you met Joel, decked out in plush red velvet in front of your Christmas tree.

It's why, when you fully come to and pull yourself up onto your elbows, you find yourself blinking in confusion in the dark. Dreams and reality are tricky things to figure out when you're on the precipice of both. And, while the sound of foreign footsteps on your living room floor was something you dreamed about - fantasized about - a feeling of unease is quickly creeping up your spine the longer you listen to the hushed tones coming from downstairs.

Whatever - whoever - it is, isn't even trying to be discreet, not by the way your door suddenly slams and something rattles against the wall.

You don't even try to be discreet either, jumping from your bed and stomping over to the door. It's stupid, maybe. Probably.

Almost definitely.

The first time may have worked out well for you by creeping down to find Joel in your house, but that didn't mean any other break-in was going to go as well for you. Now, all these months later, you didn't even have your old umbrella to arm yourself with as you throw open the door and fly downstairs, hoping the element of surprise will save you.

Slamming your hand against the wall, you drench your living room in artificial light so suddenly your eyes can barely adjust before you're screaming out into the room in a feeble attempt to scare off your intruders.

"Get ou- what the fuck?!"

"Jesu-"

"Fu-"

The scene in front of you is a mess. Mail you'd left on your coffee table earlier is strewn all over the floor, your bowl of knick-knacks over turned in the middle, and two of your sofa cushions dumped onto the floor.

Most baffling of all are the people in the room. You know them. Of course you do. Who else would it be. Joel Miller is stood - or rather, he's being propped up - in your living room, gripping onto his brother as he desperately tries to keep his legs beneath him.

"Tommy? Joel? What the fuck are you two doing here?"

Joel, who by now has caught the sound of your voice, has stopped trying to keep himself upright, and is instead staring dozily at you, a lopsided smile spreading across his face. Tommy, meanwhile, is now taking almost the full weight of his older brother, and suffering for it, barely keeping his own legs from buckling as grunts and groans.

"I dropped him home but he - shit man you're heavy, stop it - he kept wanderin' this way. Kept askin' about a goodnight kiss. Told him I'd give 'im one but -"

"Hi," Joel cuts in suddenly, slurring around the simple greeting as he moves toward you despite Tommy's protests.

"Joel," you say in warning, as the broad man stumbles toward you on drunken feet.

In response, he raises a single finger, clearly much slower than he intended to, and the smile on his face spreads even wider.

"No."

"No? What? Joel, look I think you sho-"

"Birthday Joel. 'm Birthday Joel," he grins, and you can't help but supress a laugh. This is maybe his most lackluster costume yet. He has a crumpled party hat on and the same clothes you saw him leave in earlier this evening, and it makes you wonder how long he's been keeping that one in tonight - whether he told his friends the same thing down at the bar, or if he'd been holding it back just to tell you. By the proud look on his face, and Tommy's confusion, you suspect the latter.

"Hey there, Birthday Joel," you say with a soft smile. "Now, what're you doing over here and not at your own place? It's late, Joel. I said I'd see you in a couple of days -"

"Birthday Joel deserves a birthday kiss."

You raise your eyebrow at him, stopping his stumbled wobble in its tracks. "Deserves?"

"Wants. I jus' - I jus' wanted to kiss you," he breathes, looking down at your mouth with another smile so soft your breath leaves you in a quiver as you try not to embarrass yourself by letting loose the bubble of affection sitting in your belly.

Naturally, you'd given Birthday Joel plenty of kisses earlier today - a day that technically wasn't even his birthday yet - before Tommy came to pick him up. You'd given him so many kisses he was almost late out the door to his own birthday drinks. Tommy had rolled his eyes then just as he is now, slapping his brother on the back and steadying him all in one move.

"Told you, man," Tommy says. "She wouldn't 'ppreciate bein' woken up just to kiss your ugly ass."

Tommy winks at you, and tries to manouvere Joel toward the door, but Joel, somehow speedy despite his drunkenness, manages to round back to you, arms spread and ready to envelope you in a hug before he stops himself and instead delicately grabs your hands.

"Jus'... Jus' missed you," he hiccups. "Missed - missed my girls."

"Okay, Prince Charmin', I'm tired, you're drunk, we all gotta sleep, let's go."

"Tommy?" you say, letting Joel's thumbs caress the back of your hands as he holds them, refusing to let go even as Tommy tries, and fails, to tug him toward the door once more. "I can drop him home, if you wanna get goin'?"

For a second, it looks like Tommy's ready to object, determined to get his brother back home and in bed, just like he promised. But then he looks at his brother, and the lovesick look on his face, and decides to leave well enough alone.

"I'll see you at dinner tomorrow," he says to Joel. "Sarah's bein' dropped off at-"

"At ten, I know," he slurs. "Miss her. Missed you. My girls."

After a minute of prising your hands out of Joel's, you see Tommy out, walking with him to your door. The spare house key you'd entrusted to Joel months ago is deposited safely into your hand, before he wishes you luck with the birthday boy, and jogs the short distance through the darkness to his truck and zips away into the night. Joel, who you'd left unattended for all of two minutes, has already taken it upon himself to flop down onto your couch, and is fighting a losing battle with his drooping head as you approach.

"C'mere," he mumbles with a wobble to his head, hands making a reach for you.

"You're still after that kiss, huh?"

"Uh-huh," he says, grinning again as you hinge, bringing your face close to his.

His eyes flutter closed before you even close the distance, pressing soft kisses to the corners of his smiling mouth, before pressing a softer, lingering kiss to his lips.

"That good enough for you, Birthday Joel?" you whisper.

"Mm. S'good. Missed you."

"You've said that already."

"S'true."

"I'm gonna get you some water, sober you up a bit before I get you home."

Joel is asleep on his side, legs pulled up onto the couch, when you come back with water. You doubted you'd get him home tonight, with the state he's in, but you were at least hoping to get him upstairs and into bed, where he could better sleep off whatever demons were coming for him in the morning. As he starts to snore, face pressed into the couch cushion, you're suddenly very grateful that he won't make it up the stairs.

You tidy up the small tornado of mess that's torn through your living room. Mail is picked up and put where you should've left it in the first place, the bowl is righted and its contents replaced, the cushions are shoved back on the couch. Assessing the man himself, you soon realise there's no way you're getting him comfortable without waking him, so you prod his side, waiting until he wakes before whispering gently to him.

"Joel? Let me get this shit off you," you say, tugging at his shoes.

For all his drunkenness, he does try to help. He fumbles with his belt buckle, getting it halfway undone before his frustrated grunts turn to curses, and your hands replace his. In no time his belt is off, and he's kicking off his pants, reaching for you and dragging you to sit beside him again.

"Joel, you're drunk, we're not playing -"

"Jus' a kiss," he asks, tapping his cheek with a smile that crinkles his eyes.

It's impossible not to give in, or smile too as you press your lips to his cheek and he hums softly, already letting sleep claw back at him.

"'Nother one," he says, as his eyes droop.

"You're drunk, Joel. You should sleep."

"Not Drunk Joel - Birthday Joel," he mumbles, with a sleepy smile as you pull off his crumpled birthday hat and toss it aside.

"Then get some sleep, Birthday Joel."

You stand, your weight shifting off the couch and jostling Joel, his head already so heavy with sleep it wobbles to the side. His hand still finds yours though - pulling you to a stop as you try to creep back upstairs.

"Come to dinner? Tomorrow? Come meet Sarah," he asks, brave with sleep. "Want - both m'girls there."

He'd hesitated asking you all week. You could tell by the way he stumbled over the words each time he explained his birthday plans - bar with the boys the night before, dinner and a movie with Sarah and Tommy on the big day. The lengthy pauses had been filled with an invitation he could never quite get out, and you didn't want to fill in the blanks yourself.

He's dozing, already mostly asleep, by the time you can even answer him. So, instead you stroke softly at his hair, watching as his whole body suddenly gives in to sleep, giving him a final kiss on his cheek, and whispering in his ear;

"Ask me again in the morning, Birthday Joel. Ask me then, and I'll say yes."

In the morning, when you're both sipping coffee and Joel is nursing a hangover the likes of which he's never seen, you don't expect him to keep to words he was too tired to hear. But, he does, not meeting your eye as the words he was never brave enough to say until last night come spilling out once more.

And, just like you said you would, you say yes.

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@stevie75 @toxicanonymity @thesevi0lentdelights @sp00kymulderr @joelsdagger

Well! I believe I would suffer from a case of Stockholm syndrome for Joel Miller 🫠

Man could do whatever he wanted and I’d just lay there “sleeping”

In Your Room

Joel finds you asleep in his bed and has his way with you. 2.6k

Tags - dark!joel, virginity loss, dubcon/noncon, implied age gap, implied abuse, somno, oral (f!receiving), fingering, just the tip but not for long, because then comes unprotected piv, brief comeplay and come eating, pussy pronouns, creampie. Possessiveness. Some sprinkles of morality. Daddy kink sprinkles too. A hint of aftercare. Spot the Radiohead and Depeche Mode references I dare you, also spooky fall vibes 🍂 Fic help - my main squeezes @endlessthxxghts @beefrobeefcal thanks for your eyeballs!! A/N - so I lied 🤥 promised to have my new series out for you all but as it happens I do not have it ready :( So here’s a snack sized fic to satisfy until I have the other shit, hopefully next week but no promises 💜 it’s been a very busy time for me recently. I've been wanting to write a dark!joel/raider!joel for a while, here's a little bit of that. If I do end up doing an actual series/au I'll keep you posted, this one shot could end up part of that universe.

Joel’s breathing heavily as he walks, inhaling the thick, heady smell of decaying leaves and the damp soil. His cheeks and the tip of his nose are pink, kissed by the chill of the fall air. Toes and ears are beginning to feel numb. The cold weather takes its toll on Joel like this every year. His house is visible in the distance and it won’t be much further until he’s home with you. He’ll spend the evening cooking you something warm and filling and holding you in his arms, maybe he’ll read to you. 

When he finally reaches his front porch, Joel leaves the rabbits he’s killed hanging on a hook in the cold. At the door, he fumbles a bit with the keys he’s used to lock it, his joints all stiff and achy. He’s greeted by warm air and an empty living room, logs burning in an unattended fireplace. Joel grumbles to himself. You were supposed to be watching that while he was gone. 

He toes off his boots and sits in the recliner in front of the fire, warming his stiff and aching toes. “Mmm…fuck,” he hisses when he bends forward, clutching his hands over the cold fabric of his worn socks. He massages his feet, works out the soreness from his trek. After letting his feet warm, Joel gets up to find you. He hopes for your sake, that you didn’t run off again. You should know better by now. 

Joel puts out the fire by spreading ashes over the flames to snuff them out. He then walks up the creaky steps, calling out your name. Nothing. He turns left into your bedroom, his hand lingering on the knob that doesn’t match his own. He replaced that one and the bathroom door knobs to ones without locks. It wasn’t an easy find, but it was necessary. Joel finds your bed made, light pink sheets with little yellow stars folded neatly over the warm, worn, navy plaid comforter. The book you’ve been carrying around isn’t on your nightstand like it usually is. Joel moves throughout the room, touching your belongings. He wiggles the pane of the window, making sure he can’t open it - because that means you can’t, either. 

Bathroom across the hall is open and empty, lights off. Where the fuck are you? Joel’s heart is beginning to pound. He’s trying to keep calm, not get angry or panicked like he’s prone to do. You didn’t run off again, right? Joel felt a little sick to his stomach after he caught you trying to leave last time. What he did to you, the marks he left, the way you cried and looked so scared - fuck, it broke his fragile heart. But you had to learn somehow. 

Joel’s bedroom door is cracked open. Fuck. He’s sure he’d left it locked before he left. Maybe he forgot. There’s been a lot on his mind lately. He spends a lot of time worrying about you. He doesn’t keep his window bolted shut like he does yours, but you wouldn’t jump from the second floor, would you? Surely you’d break your leg and he would have heard you crying from a half mile away. This time, he’d let you sit with the broken leg for a day. Make the lesson stick. Joel’s a little afraid of what he’ll find in his bedroom. What weapons did he leave here? What if the window’s open, curtains blowing with the wind, and you’re nowhere to be found? Maybe you’re hidden behind the door, waiting for him to walk in. You’ll try to hurt him, get some good hits in probably. But he’ll subdue you with ease, just like he always does. Joel keeps his hand on his holster as he pushes the door open. 

A light snore, a quiet murmur of something incoherent. The curtains are drawn and you’re in Joel’s bed, wrapped in one of his flannel shirts, tucked under his blankets the way he tucks them in for you each night. He breathes a sigh of relief. What are you doing here?

Joel thinks about waking you, berating you for leaving the fire unattended. But he can’t bring himself to. You look so peaceful right here, lips plump and drooling onto his pillow, eyes gently shut as you sleep on your stomach. Joel pushes a bit of hair out of your face to admire how beautiful you look, you’re always so beautiful. Your skin is so soft under the rough calluses of his fingertips, a little cold to the touch. Poor thing. 

He strokes your back, warm palms gliding over his rough and scratchy flannel shirt you’re wearing. He chuckles. That warms his heart a little. He pulls the covers down your hips and exposes your ass, pulls the shirt back a little to get a better look. You’re wearing thin, lily-white panties that he can see your pubic hair through, a simple lace detail lining them. “Goddamn,” he murmurs. You don’t know what you do to him. 

Joel considers himself a patient person but Christ, he’s only a man. He’s been waiting to take you, make you his. When he’d asked if you’d ever been touched by a man before you had told him no. “You nervous?” he asked as his fingertips danced across the bare skin of your thigh. 

You nodded. “Yeah.” 

“S’normal,” he replied. “But you got nothin’ t’be afraid of. I’ll be right there with ya.” 

But that didn’t ease your anxiety much. “Will it hurt?” you asked.

“It might,” Joel said. You looked away and bit your inner cheek anxiously. Joel took your chin between his thumb and forefinger and made you look at him, his eyes dark and his brows raised. “But I’ll try an’ go easy on ya, hm?” 

You nodded, a small, tight smile on your lips. “I want it to be special,” you said.

“I’ll make it special,” Joel said. “Make it real special for ya, kiddo.” 

-

Joel’s been so patient it hurts. And you on display like this isn’t helping the cause. There’s something so special about you, you’re so submissive. Inviting. That dark desire flows through Joel like ichor, filling him with need, animalistic in nature. With the careful slipping of his finger Joel could be finally feeling your soft folds, the warm, slippery arousal at your entrance. 

He can’t help himself. Joel uses his thick finger to push your panties to the side, exposing your cunt. He drags his finger up and down, teasing your clit, watching how you become wet from his gentle touch. He sucks your slick off of his fingertip and groans, “Fuck, sweetheart.” Christ, he needs more than just a quick taste. But he should wait until you’re awake, take what he wants from you while you’re lucid. Make it special, just like he promised. Joel watches your slick hole drip with that little bit of arousal and he wonders, if you’re not awake, would it really be happening?

No. Not really, at least. The way a tree falling in an empty forest doesn’t make a sound.

Joel quietly lifts off of the bed, careful to not let the springs creak too loudly. You stir a little in your sleep, mumble something incoherent. While you lie prone on his bed, Joel kneels behind you. He leans over you to grab a pillow you’re not hugging or resting your head on and wriggles his other arm under your tummy. He lifts you up just enough to slip the pillow beneath you, then sets you down on it. You tense up and stretch, your toes wiggle and spread out. Joel smiles to himself - Christ, you’re precious.

He pushes the fabric of his flannel up and over your ass and slips his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties and tugs them down, down your legs, crumpling them into a ball before shoving them in his back pocket. 

Joel palms your ass cheeks, squeezing the flesh so that it billows beneath his fingertips. He sinks low behind you so that he’s lying on his stomach, then spreads your lips with both of his thumbs. He blows hot air on your cunt and watches you twitch. “Mm,” he hums, teasing your dripping hole with his finger before pushing it inside, all the way down to the knuckle. “What a mess you’re makin’. She fuckin’ needs me, baby.” 

He presses a couple of kisses against your inner thighs before touching his lips to your pussy, feeling your clit pulse against him. He dips his tongue inside you. Sweeter than honey, just like he expected. 

Joel drags his tongue up and down your folds, circling your clit every other time as he teases you, and feels you begin to soak his face, his nose still cold from the chilly air outside. He loves how warm your skin is against his. 

Joel doesn’t even have to make you come if he doesn’t want to. Could just get your pussy wet enough for him to fuck. Joel kisses you, sucks your clit, finds exactly what makes you tick. What makes you arch your back into him, what makes you stir and whimper softly in your sleep. He savors it all, the taste of your innocence and your pleasure. His tongue parts your sensitive flesh, the coarse and wiry hairs of his beard and mustache tickling you. “Mmm,” you mumble. 

“Shhhh,” Joel hushes. He pulls away from you for a moment and watches your body relax into his bed again before going back for more, swirling and flicking his tongue against you. When Joel sucks your clit, you squeeze his pillow and whine. “Oh, I know, I know, I know,” he coos. “I know.” 

It’s probably best if he stops here. He got his taste, anyway. He’ll smell you in his facial hair as he pumps his cock, he’ll come thinking about your soft folds under his tongue. Joel unbuckles his belt and shoves his hand beneath the waistband of his boxers, palming his hard shaft. He squeezes himself and rubs his thumb over his slit, spreading that bead of precum over his thick head. What he wouldn’t give to be inside you right now. 

He leans over your body and drags the tip of his cock through the folds he just tasted, all wet and slippery. He moves it up and down, catching himself against your clit and then your hole, deciding if he wants to push himself inside you. 

Just the tip, he decides, notching himself inside you. He pushes in, then pulls out, then pushes in a bit further. Your cunt squeezes around him, welcomes him so kindly. If he wanted to, he could slide all the way in, bury himself in your wet, pulsing folds and you’d be none the wiser. Because you’re not here, and this isn’t happening.

That slow, gradual slide inside you has Joel sucking his breath between his teeth as he watches his cock disappear inside you, a deep groan spills from his lips when his hips meet your ass. His brows are knitted together in concentration, his eyes flutter shut as he breathes deeply. He pulls out all the way, then pushes in again. “Ohh, s’good,” he moans. “You’re takin’ it so good, kiddo.” 

Joel imagines how much better you’ll take him when you’re awake. Eyes tear stained and rolling back into your skull, your arms and legs wrapped around him, clinging for dear life. Your sweet moans, your face buried in his chest.

Joel sets a slow pace, slower than he likes. He feels the warmth and wetness of your walls, if you were awake right now you’d feel every vein and detail of his thick cock. He pumps himself in and out of you, rolling his hips achingly slowly. You throb and arch against him without any say in the matter. 

“Joel,” you mumble, voice thick with sleep. 

“Shh,” Joel whispers, slowing his body. He bends down to stroke your hair and press a kiss against your cheek. “S’just a bad dream. You’re alright. I gotcha.”

Once again, Joel waits for you to relax. When you do, he continues those slow strokes. Against his better judgment, Joel reaches under you to press his fingers against your clit. He moves them in steady circles against your swollen, sensitive bud, and wears a crooked smile when he feels you begin to twitch and jerk a little. Little breathless and desperate moans of Joel’s name catch in your throat as you tremble. Joel fucks you a little deeper and there it is, you’re coming for him. You whimper and moan, eyes squeezed shut. 

“Yeah, there it is, sweetheart,” he breathes. “What a good girl.” 

Miraculously, you stay asleep through it all. Joel fucks you steadily, chasing his own release. Sweat is dampening his hair, dripping down his forehead and down the tip of his aquiline nose. He pulls you flush against his body as he comes, your back warm against his thick middle. His muscles tense and relax and he groans as quietly as he can, mumbling your name. His cock throbs as pleasure surges through him and he paints your insides with his spend, rope after rope until he’s milked himself entirely. 

After catching his breath, Joel pulls out of you carefully and slowly, watching the mess drip from your swollen cunt. He pushes a little back inside you, then sucks his finger clean. He tucks himself back inside his jeans, buckles his belt back up and then folds his comforter back over your body. The loss of his weight on the bed is what finally wakes you. 

“Joel?” you murmur. 

Joel tenses a little. He turns around to see you, confusion painted over your face, all puffy with sleep. “M’sorry, kiddo. Didn’t mean to wake ya.” 

“Mm,” you grumble. Joel chuckles silently. You’re always grumpy when you wake, poor thing. 

 “Got a bone t’pick with you, y’know,” he says. “You shoulda’ been watchin’ that fire while I was out.”

“Sorry,” you say. “I was tired.” You’re so confused. You know it’s cold outside, but Joel’s face is flushed like he’s warm.

“I gotta be able to trust you,” he chastises. “S’what we talked about, hm?”

You nod and close your eyes as you shift in his bed, but you feel something wet and sticky between your thighs. You wonder if you started your period. You lift your sheets and find milky-white between your thighs, your underwear gone. You’re embarrassed when Joel sees the mess too, quickly covering your lap back up with the sheets. 

“Don’t you worry ‘bout that,” Joel says. “S’just your system’s way of cleanin’ itself out. Nothin’ to be ashamed of. We could go take a bath, hm? Clean you up.” 

You nod again. “Yes, daddy.” 

Joel smiles. “What’re you doin’ in my bed anyway?”

“There was a spider in my room.”

“Spider, huh?” Joel presses his palm against your cheek.

“Mhm. All big and black and scary. I couldn’t sleep in there.” 

 Joel pouts mockingly. “I’ll find him later and put him outside,” he says. He pulls his covers and sheets all the way off your body, then sits you up. Joel takes your hand and helps you off the bed, then leads you to the bathroom. “Let’s go wash ya off, now.”  

Please please please reblog with your thoughts or send me an ask!!! Your kind words go so far in keeping me motivated to write 💜

Oooooooh lordy!!!! 🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠

Gimme gimme gimme gimme gimme

WEDNESDAY! This is amaaaaaazing!

Now I’m gonna spend the rest of my work day just thinking about being in a Joel and Javi sandwich 🤤😍🫠

Paris, Texas

(joel miller x javier peña x f!reader)

aka: 2 Texans, 1 Lady 🎀 The joel x javi x reader threesome

WC: 9.6k | Other fics | Rating: 18+ | Read on Ao3

Note: hey y'all, i'm back with almost 10k of pure threesome smut! I would say that once again nobody asked for this, but WRONG THERE ARE AT LEAST A FEW OF US OUT HERE SEARCHING THE JOEL X JAVI X READER tags so this is for u.  

Tags: au suspend whatever disbelief you need to make everyone the ages you want, modern, no outbreak, established relationship between joel x f!reader, joel's got some internalized homophobia bc it made sense to me, javier doesn't bc he's too sexy or per @auteurdelabre he's too busy knockin' boots with prossies to be homophobic, dubcon slightly bc joel didn't ask any questions (typical), gratuitous self indulgent 3some smut, jealous!joel, angry!joel, possessive!joel (the trifecta), snarky!javi, blow jobs, fingering, piv, lil bit of m/m action, and BUCKLE UP WE'RE GOIN' TO PARIS TO VISIT THE EIFFEL TOWER- well, i guess they don't actually high five or whatever technicality is required but don't fight me on that pls bc i think it's funny, smut, pwp, just 10k of 3 hotties bangin' idk what else you want to know

thanks: to @auteurdelabre for making sure nobody has an extra dick or arm or anything, unless i added one after she read the last draft, all other mistakes are on me, also thanks to @gothcsz for supporting the threesome agenda, and to @magneticecstasy for inspiring me to get to work

You bring it up in the dim glow of the living room. Joel’s eyes flick up from the TV, a blend of surprise and skepticism dancing across his rugged features.

“I’ve been thinking…” You begin, your voice soft, almost shy.

“That’s never good,” he teases, a smirk tugging at his lips. You give him an exaggerated eye roll and a playful shove. “Go on, then.”

“Thinking about trying something new,” you say, letting the words hang thick in the air.

“Keep talkin’, baby,” he replies, his voice low and even, but his eyes are locked on you now, a sharp focus that makes your pulse quicken.

“Well, I was talking with Maria at girls' night,” you continue, testing the waters, but he cuts in, a groan escaping him.

“I do not want to know what my brother is up to in the bedroom.”

“Not like that!” you laugh, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “We were talking about… fantasies.”

“Fantasies,” he repeats, his tone gruff but intrigued, leaning forward slightly. “And what’d ya come up with now?”

A wicked grin curves your lips. “What if we had a threesome?” It slips out in a sultry whisper, and you watch his eyes widen, a flash of something primal crossing his face. There’s surprise there, but also a flicker of something possessive.

Joel’s expression shifts. Conflicted. He’s processing, and you can see the cogs turning, his jaw working. 

But when you decide to ease him into it with the heat of your body, straddling his lap and murmuring all the filthy, delicious things you crave from him, his resolve crumbles. 

His grip tightens, and he hauls you to the bedroom, fucking you senseless until you swear you forget how to speak.

Afterward, tangled in the sheets, Joel agrees easily, his voice a rumble against your skin. You promise to take care of everything, and he relaxes at that. He was not interested in navigating the potential pitfalls of approaching another woman or making you feel insecure.

….

But when the night of your escapade arrives, and you glide back into the living room with your guest trailing behind you, Joel’s stomach drops. He realizes he fucked up by letting you take care of everything. 

Javier’s presence is magnetic, his entrance commanding. He strides into the room like a predator, and Joel can feel the air change, thickening with danger and desire. 

You’re giddy at the reality of your fantasy coming true as you introduce the two men. You look back and forth between them and laugh when you realize you definitely have a type. 

Joel can’t deny you’re radiant, practically floating as you offer Javier a seat. But he’s still immobilized. You never clarified what kind of threesome you meant. He never thought to ask.

The scent of spicy, smoky leather that follows Javier is a direct challenge to Joel, but to you, it’s a potent aphrodisiac. 

You’ve got butterflies and an electric hum in your veins. Knowing what Javier showed up for makes the anticipation even stronger. You all know why, but nobody has said it out loud yet, and you’re dying to see who makes the first move. You figure the unspoken understanding gives you good reason to unapologetically check out your new date and your lover. 

You can’t help but admire the contrast between the two men: Joel, rough and rugged, and Javier, with his dark, smoldering confidence.

Joel catches how you’re drawn to Javier, and something ugly begins to unfurl in his chest. His eyes narrow, jealousy and irritation simmering, as you nudge him to pour drinks, oblivious to the storm brewing within him. 

You’re too caught up in Javier’s flirting and the tension thrumming through the room. You don’t see the shock rooting your man in place. 

But when you glance back at Joel, you see it—a shadow behind his eyes, something wild and unyielding. Your pussy skips a beat, and your breath hitches. His fierce look is a major turn-on, but a cooling realization washes over you. 

“Oh, shit,” you blurt out, putting together your mistake. You scramble to find a way to intervene. Filtering through ideas for facilitating this hiccup when Javier’s hand rests on your shoulder. His touch sends a thrill racing down your spine.

“Breathe,” Javier murmurs, his voice a low rasp that curls around your senses. “We’ve got plenty of time to get to know each other.”

You feel Joel’s gaze burn into where Javier’s fingers rest on your skin, his stare molten, and you know he won’t laugh this off.

“Hey,” you coax gently, like soothing a wild animal, “let’s back up for a—”

“The fuck is this?” Joel's voice is low and frighteningly calm for someone who just remembered how to speak. You can feel his anger rattling in its cage, and you know it won’t stay contained for long.  

It makes you falter, words disappearing on your tongue as you look between the two men. Javier remains unfazed—smug, almost. His eyes flick from you to Joel, the corner of his mouth curling.

“I was under the impression you were looking for a third,” Javier says smoothly. “But if I got that wrong, I won’t waste my time.” He starts to turn, a fluid, arrogant motion, but you reach for his arm, your touch urgent.

“Wait,” you sound flustered. “This was my mistake. Give me a minute.”

Javier’s gaze softens, and you can feel the emotions radiating from Joel. You press on, cheeks burning with embarrassment, struggling to convey what you’d hoped for, how you didn’t intend to mislead anyone. But Joel’s not looking at you—his eyes are fixed on Javier, a dangerous glint in them.

“You knew,” he mutters like it’s a heinous accusation, eyes boring into Javier, who looks back with a cocky and relaxed expression.

“I wouldn’t turn down a beautiful woman like yours,” Javier replies, voice low and velvety, the kind of tone that sets your nerves alight. When his hand ghosts down your spine, Joel’s nostrils flare, his posture rigid.

“Who agrees to a threesome with another man?” Joel snaps with disdain.

“Someone who isn’t threatened by another man,” Javier says, his voice sharp as a blade but undisturbed. 

Joel’s laugh is a harsh bark. 

You watch the exchange. Despite your embarrassment and fear of fucking things up, something else stirs. 

Is it perverse that you have the urge to test Joel’s restraint? The weight of the animosity pouring off of Joel is surreal like you can’t lift your limbs, but your heart races faster. An indecent surge of excitement and arousal speeds up your breathing. 

Joel’s enthusiasm about the night has morphed into something dark. The realization that you wanted to bring another man into your bed hits him hard. This wasn’t what he had in mind, and it stings more than he’d like to admit. 

Javier’s calm, flirtatious demeanor only fuels Joel’s distaste for the man. 

“You think I feel threatened?” Joel challenges with a short huff and incredulous shake of his head. 

Javier’s response is serrated and mocking. “I think someone who isn’t comfortable with their own sexuality would be. And, clearly, someone who isn’t confident enough to handle sharing.” 

“Clearly?” Joel snorts a dismissive laugh and finally looks back at you. He catches how your breath comes quicker and the way your eyelids are heavy with lust. 

Your visible arousal overrides his irritation and trickles down his spine. He checks himself. For you. “I’ve got nothing to be insecure about.” 

You pipe up, suggesting everyone slow down and take time to get comfortable like Javier had suggested. They agree, but you wouldn’t know it by their clipped, terse tone. Joel reveals nothing beyond his profession and place of residence—contractor, Austin, despite your eyes begging him to relax. Javier, or Javi he adds, with a wink, only shares he’s former DEA, originally from Laredo.

“Two Texans,” you quip, trying to inject some lightness, “Lucky me.” 

You might even crack a smile out of them when you add, “Well, you know what they say, everything’s bigger in Texas and all.” 

Despite their not-at-all-subtle jabs at each other, both men are happy to listen to you. After another drink, you feel yourself relaxing between them on the couch. 

You’re a little softer and looser. Laughing warmly and letting yourself rest your hand on Javier’s thigh. You can still feel Joel’s jealousy flaring hot beside you, barely masked by a dismissive attitude. 

Javier is alluring and charming. You can feel it provoking a competitive beast within Joel, but you do your best to soothe the beast within your man, leaning into Joel and shooting flirty glances at him.

You’re receptive to his possessive touch, which softens Joel’s resolve. For you. Only for you.  

Eventually, he leans in to whisper in his gravelly voice right into your ear. “If this is really what you want, baby, you can have him. I ain’t gettin’ into bed with another man, though.” Your face beams as a sharp tug of want straightens your spine. 

“You wanna watch?” you purr louder than you intended. Javi can’t pretend he didn’t hear. The corners of his lips lift in amusement. He leans in close to you, pressing his body into yours and sandwiching you between the two men. His hand drifts down your side, and his lips graze your neck, sending shivers rippling across your skin.

The charge between them is intoxicating, and you feel restless. You can’t sit still as your pussy throbs between your legs. You burn like you’re running a fever from their attention and the heat of their firm bodies.

Javi’s eyes meet Joel’s over your shoulder. “He just wants to see his woman feel good, right?” His hand inches up your thigh, teasing at the hem of your dress.

The air is thick. Crackling. Every nerve in your body is on high alert as you breathe, “Please.” The word is barely audible, but Joel hears it. He nods, a reluctant agreement, and sits back to watch as Javier’s hand confidently dives beneath your dress.

Javi's fingers find the edge of your lace-trimmed panties. "Oh, you wore these just for us, didn’t you?” His mustache tickles your ear, but his voice is a molten desire. You nod. You did buy a matching set just for tonight. Well, you actually bought three because you couldn’t decide, but that’s not the point. 

“Yes,” you murmur, anticipation vibrating through you.

“Atta girl,” Javier’s voice drips with approval, his tone smooth and confident as it washes over you. His words alone are enough to make you melt, but when his mouth finds the sensitive curve of your neck and his hand slides over your mound to cup the soaked satin covering your seam, your moan is abruptly cut off with a sharp gasp. 

Javier’s touch is direct and firm. His fingers press the fabric into your swollen clit and drag a torturously slow pattern. Your body arches into him, seeking more. 

He praises you and teases you gently for being so wet you are already and making such sweet noises for him. You aren’t sure if he’s taunting you or Joel, but your body doesn’t care as it shudders in response. Soft moans are interrupted by short gasps as Javier tests your responses. 

You feel a burning heat bloom over your chest and face. Embarrassment and shame creep over you at the impropriety of your reactions to another man in front of Joel. But they’re quickly replaced with a depraved spike of arousal when you clock Joel’s covetous glare. His steadfast scrutiny feeds a hedonistic creature within you that claws and scratches to see him react. 

Joel is transfixed. Captivated, yet conflicted. He’s not one to share, and watching you respond so eagerly to another man’s touch grates at him. The way your lashes flutter, the soft parting of your lips—every reaction you give Javier twists the knife deeper into his gut. Yet, you’re a vision, an intoxicating blend of submission and temptation. You give him a look like the whole show is for him.  His cock is already throbbing, hard and heavy in his jeans, and it’s maddening.

Javier moves with precision. He pushes the straps of your dress down, murmuring about wanting to see what’s underneath. The words are for you, but the glance he shoots at Joel is all challenge. Joel’s eyes narrow, a feral glint in them, but when he sees the familiar color of the lace and mesh hugging your soft breasts, his lips twitch into a knowing smirk. It’s his favorite color. His. 

The fog of possessive desire whispers ideas to Joel. He likes the one about grabbing Javier by the shoulders and tossing him across the room so he can show off the way you beg for his cock. He feels tempted to make a barbaric declaration about who you belong to. 

Instead, Joel can’t stop himself from barking orders at Javier. “Take it off her,” he commands, his voice tight. Javier complies without argument, hands deftly removing your bra before they’re back on your skin, lips on your neck. “She likes it when you bite,” Joel adds, “not too hard.” 

Joel’s cock strains painfully against his jeans, begging for attention, as he watches how your form pulls taught beneath Javier. Your skin buzzes, and your muscles draw tight, pressure building under both men’s attention. 

Javi gives Joel a sidelong glance, “You sure you don’t want to take notes, Joel? Learn something new?” He punctuates his verbal taunt by pulling a loud gasp from you as his fingers slip under your panties to tease at your slick seam before he dips them into your eager entrance. Your head tips back, eyes fluttering shut as the sensations somehow intensify. 

Joel scoffs, “You’re a sideshow, Javi. I know what she needs; I keep her more than satisfied.” His restraint wanes as he tries to adjust himself in his jeans. “Tell him, baby,” his voice comes out curt and guttural as his thighs spasm, and he coughs to kill the groan in his chest. 

A pornographic “Yes!” Is the most complex sentence you can form. You hope it pleases Joel because your tongue and brain are otherwise numb. The sensation of Javier rutting against you through his jeans is enough to make you cross-eyed, but his fingers and mouth are relentless. 

Javier repeats Joel’s claim, “You know what she needs,” he muses as if his fingers weren’t creating obscene wet noises as he draws them out of you and plunges them back in, “And how about what she wants?” 

“Yes,” you offer again, unaware if that one was rhetorical, as Javi descends. He mouths and sucks in turn at each of your taut nipples as his fingers crook just right against your plush, wet walls. 

“Take it, baby, let go,” Joel’s gruff command is tinged with a ragged desperation. You obey and give in, letting the pleasure consume you and sweep you away. Joel couldn’t give a shit about Javier’s ego trip as he watches you. The involuntary muscle contractions and throaty moans you make are unfiltered and unchoreographed. Messy and vulnerable. In his eyes, you exude a divine, feminine energy, and it calls to Joel’s baser instincts. 

You weave your fingers into Javier’s hair, tugging him up for a kiss that’s been burning on your lips since this all started. 

It lights up your whole body. You feel yourself rocking into him unconsciously and sinking into his kiss. Javi groans when you tug at his bottom lip with your teeth. It thrills you to hear the first slip in his composure. 

Joel’s reverential dream bursts. He was enraptured at you writhing and squirming with pleasure in front of him, but when you kiss Javier back with such abandon, his vision sharpens. The noises you both make are too tender, too intimate. It incites his caveman brain, and he is compelled to reassert his claim to you. 

“Fuck this,” he spits out with an angry rasp. Your eyes snap open in surprise, confusion flickering across your features. Javier turns his head, hands not releasing you, his eyebrow arching in mild amusement.

“Does she not sing like this for you?” Javier heckles, “Does she not soak your fingers? Pussy begging to be filled with more?” 

If you were asked on a Tuesday afternoon, with second-day hair and a sweet treat in your hand, you might reject the idea. It’s not that it’s anti-feminist or anything; different strokes for different folks and all. It’s just not your kink per se. 

You might not see the appeal in having two men speak about you as if you weren’t in the room, arguing about what you enjoyed on your behalf, and essentially making you a pawn and denoting your pleasure as a benchmark in their big-dick-masculinity competition. 

You might consider having a conversation about the objectification of women, clarify that you are not property to be owned or auctioned off. 

But right now? High on the oxytocin in your blood and the testosterone in the air? Frozen between the venomous Javier and teeth-gnashing Joel? 

You’d knock that other version of you over like it was Black Friday, 2005, and she was the only thing between you and a mid-range flatscreen TV with a yellow sale price sticker to be first in line to see Joel’s next move. 

Joel’s eyes flash. “I ain’t gonna just sit here and watch this,” he says, his voice low and dangerous as he reaches for you, pulling you to your feet. 

“Come ’ere.” His hand tightens around your arm as he tugs you close, his gaze flicking to Javier with a barely concealed sneer. The possessive display makes you whine. 

Javier frowns, unserious, mocking. “That’s too bad,” he sucks his teeth, “I’d love to see what she does that keeps a brute like you civilized,” he slinks closer to run his thumb over your lip. He looks to Joel before he continues in a smoky tone. 

“Is it how she uses that sweet mouth to suck your cock?” His gaze drops to the unmistakable hard-on leaking in Joel’s denim, and you feel your man bristle at being ogled at by Javier. “No, I bet she tames you with that needy cunt, hm? Takes you just right?” 

“Holy shit,” you breathe out accidentally. Javier’s filthy mouth might as well be speaking directly to your pussy. 

You don’t see the cocky grin that spreads on Joel’s face. He lets out a sharp, dismissive exhale before addressing Javier. “Oh, you can come too,” you don’t know why that sounds like a challenge, “if that’s what she wants.”

“Please, Joel,” you whisper, your voice raw with need, “I want you both.”

“Yeah, baby, you’ll get what you want,” Joel grits out, his voice hard as steel. His eyes bore into Javier’s with unbridled disdain. “Ain’t gonna be some shitty ex-cop that gets you off again, though. That’s all for me.”

Javi’s playful smirk falters, and a dangerous glint sparkles in his eyes. “Careful, cowboy,” he says, his voice laced with venom. “I’ve got nothing to prove here.” He takes his time eyeing you and Joel up and down before continuing. “I’m starting to think it’s not sharing with another man that’s got you wound so tight,” he pauses, swallowing, before continuing with calculated precision, “I think you’re afraid you’ll like it.” 

“Get out,” Joel bellows dangerously. 

But Javier doesn’t budge. He stands his ground, his gaze never leaving yours. “Is that what you want?” he asks, ignoring Joel’s seething presence beside you.

The room is electric. Lightning shoots through your nervous system. You look at Joel. His raw, dominating aura entices you. Maybe you’re wrong for this, but he looks so fucking hot when he’s worked up like this. They both do, you realize, your gaze darting between them.

“Fuck,” you whisper, a breathless exhale, your heart pounding in your chest. Joel’s grip on your arm loosens just a fraction. The dark current of violence in his eyes recedes as he searches your face. Your eyes are blown with lust, and you wobble like the tension between the two men is going to knock you on your ass. 

“All right,” Joel mutters, his voice thick with barely contained emotion. He takes a steadying breath, his eyes flicking to Javier, then back to you. “Both of you—”

“Bedroom?” Javier cuts him off, his voice low and challenging, a crooked grin tugging at his lips.

….

You’re thrust into the middle of a storm of desire once you reach your bedroom. The chemistry between you and your powerful, masculine partners is undeniable, but the current between the two of them seems just as palpable.

Neither is willing to relinquish control, and their rivalry intensifies. You can see their determination to prove they can satisfy you more than the other flickering in their eyes. 

Javi’s intense gaze never leaves yours, even as Joel brushes his rough hands over your skin, possessive in his every move as he strips you naked. Your skin burns with desire as he touches you, and you can’t help but whimper at the intensity of his grip. Each noise you make incites a jealous reaction from the other, but somehow, they work as if choreographed. 

They encase you in their broad bodies and mark you with their desire with every kiss and touch as you hastily pull at their clothes and fumble with the buttons on their jeans until the three of you are naked and panting at the foot of the bed. It’s like you’re caught in a tornado made of two incredibly sexy men. 

Javier’s commanding nature contrasts with Joel’s jagged, primal passion, and you find yourself caught between them, overwhelmed by the force of their attention. You can’t lie, though; it’s not just their attitude that has you feeling drunk and weightless. 

When the blur of your frantic rush to undress each of them settles and you can focus, your jaw drops like a cartoon character. If your pussy could scream, the whole neighborhood would be able to hear it. Your head spins as you swivel back and forth, taking in their gorgeous bodies on either side of you. You ignore whatever ego trip they’re on. You couldn’t care less which one of them will win the trophy for manliest man tonight or whatever they’re fighting about. 

Instead, your brain feels like it’s trying to remember calculus or physics or whatever science will help you figure out how to accomplish your desperate need to have both of them in your mouth. Though, with the screaming desire to touch them immediately, you’re pretty sure you couldn’t even add 2+2 right now. 

You’re still ignoring their bantering. Cockdrunk at the sight of both of them, possibly drooling, probably dripping down your thighs from your wet cunt. Their voices are a smoky, bassy buzz above you as you sink to your knees on your own solo mission. 

You don’t give a shit if you can’t fit two dicks in your mouth at the same time. 

“Come here,” you demand them both to stand in front of you. You can feel Joel’s resistance to stand any closer to Javier; however, your horny brain has lost the usual patience you would hold for his internal torment. “Closer,” you whine as you rub your thighs together in a useless attempt to relieve the ache pulsing through your core and cousin your clit to twitch. 

Javier curls his hand around the back of your head, and your eyes flutter shut at the sensation. 

“You gonna keep her waiting?” Javier challenges Joel, eyes roving over the other man's body before he watches your eyes blink back open. 

Javi stands proud in front of you–as he should with a body like that. He displays no shame or hesitation as he pulls his hand back from your head to casually jerk his cock at the sight of you. Glistening with sweat like glitter as you perch on your knees. You didn’t know until this moment that watching a man fuck his own fist in front of your face could make you salivate like this, but you feel it pooling under your tongue and flooding your mouth. 

You figure you look like a pouty mess when you turn to stare up at Joel. He’s so tense. Fists clenched, jaw tight, chest heaving. You’re entranced by the shining precome leaking from his cock as it hangs heavily in front of you. 

“Closer,” you repeat. Your voice is low, almost hoarse, as if he’s already fucked your throat, but it’s only from tasting the fantasy of it. 

Finally, Joel steps closer, and you can get your mouth around him. You offer your hand to Javier, moaning deeply around Joel’s cock when Javier takes your hand in his and uses it to keep working himself the way he likes. 

You work feverishly to take Joel deeper and deeper, unbothered when you gag and tear up because of your impatience. Joel forgets about Javier entirely when you wrap your lips around him and suck in your cheeks. You’re rewarded with grunts and groans from Joel that stir up the arousal pooling at your entrance, but the addition of Javier’s voice has your mind slipping away into a warm pool of pure bliss. 

“Easy,” Joel’s hand steadies you as fat tears stream from the corners of your eyes. You whine in protest around his velvety length, and a throaty noise comes from Javier as he slows his hand and yours. 

“Fuck, she is a dream,” Javier muses. 

You’re caught between the two, their scents and taste blending into something that makes your head spin even more. 

“Damn right,” Joel growls out, and every nerve ending in your body is on fire, overwhelmed with a maddening combination of pleasure, anticipation, and the dizzying heat of being desired so intensely by both men.  

Joel’s cock works your jaw wide open as you take him in deeper. His hips begin to move, thrusting shallowly into the heat of your mouth. His hands find the back of your head, gripping it tightly to keep you in place. He’s controlled, but you can feel the twitch in his fingers and the low, guttural sounds he makes above you as he fights to keep from losing control. His possessiveness seeps through every thrust, every flex of his thighs, and shoots straight through you. 

Meanwhile, Javier keeps your other hand busy. His grip on your hand is firm but steady, and he occasionally slides your fingers down to cup his balls, his low growls vibrating in the back of his throat as he watches your lips stretch around Joel. His eyes are glued to your face, dark and ravenous, and when he catches you looking up at him, his smirk only deepens. He knows how this sight affects you—both of them towering over you, both of them needing you.

“Goddamn,” Javier mutters, voice thick with admiration and lust. “Look at you. So fucking pretty with your mouth full.” He leans down, his free hand brushing over your cheek, his thumb wiping away the tears streaming from your eyes as Joel thrusts in deep. 

“Bet she’d love to taste us both,” he taunts, his voice tainted with a knowing chuckle that sends a hot pulse straight to your core.

Joel lets out a gruff noise. It’s strained, tinged with irritation. He’s still wrestling with the primitive urge to be the one that makes you shatter. “You always gotta run your mouth?” Joel grumbles, but there’s a heat in his eyes, a flicker of something malevolent. “Why don’t you put it to use instead of talkin’?”

Javier’s grin widens, the taunt lighting up a challenge in his eyes. “What’s wrong? Scared she might like what I have to offer?” He doesn’t wait for Joel’s reply, instead leaning down to slide you off of Joel’s cock, marveling as a line of spit connects your lips to Joel’s tip before you turn. Javi gives you a soft, teasing kiss first before diving in. Then, he greedily laps at your tongue, humming at the taste of you and Joel. The sensation is dizzying. You’d proudly volunteer to be passed between the two of them for an eternity. 

Javier pulls back with a chuckle, Joel’s eyes never leave yours, dark and intense. He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a low, gravelly whisper. “Tell him,” Joel demands, his breath hot on your skin. “Tell him how much you love having me in your mouth, how you crave it.”

Your brain is mush, your body vibrating with need, but you manage to whisper out, “I love it, Joel. Love how you feel in my mouth.” Your words make Joel grin with satisfaction, his eyes gleaming with triumph, but Javier’s eyes only sharpen.

“Yeah?” Javier’s voice is silky as he leans in closer. “Think you can handle a taste of both of us?” His thumb drags across your swollen lips, parting them slightly.

A sticky, thick desire drips through you at his words. You don’t miss Joel’s expression hardening, his possessiveness flaring. But instead of another angry retort, he surprises you, his voice dropping to a harsh, almost amused tone. “You want to show him how sweet this mouth is? Think you’re up for it?” His hand tightens around the back of your neck, and you gasp as he tilts your head back, exposing your throat. 

He leans in and nips at your neck, the sting sending a shiver down your spine. “Go on, then. Show him what you can do.”

Your heart pounds as you reposition yourself, turning your attention back to Javier. Fuck yeah, you’re gonna show him what you can do. Pride glows in your chest at Joel’s proclamation of your skill. 

The excitement in Javier’s eyes is unmistakable, and you give him a coy smile, leaning in to flick your tongue over the tip of his cock. He inhales sharply, his composure faltering just slightly, and you relish the small victory with a groan. You take him into your mouth slowly, savoring the feel of him as Joel watches closely, his heavy breaths grazing your skin. You have a dull ache in your jaw from Joel, but you’re determined and spurred on by Joel watching. 

You feel compelled to give it your all. You want to hear cool and collected Javi fall apart, and you want to make Joel proud. 

Javier’s hand finds the back of your head, his grip more gentle than Joel’s, guiding you as you begin to suck him off with the same fervor. His moans are low and rumbling, filled with pleasure and just a hint of smugness. “That’s it, sweetheart. Just like that,” he groans, his fingers tighten, digging in to the back of your neck and the base of your skull. “Such a good girl.”

Not wanting Joel to feel neglected, you wrap a hand around his length, pumping in rhythm with your movements on Javier. The room fills with the sounds of their pleasure—deep grunts and heavy breathing mingling with the wet, obscene noises of your mouth and hands working them both. The debauchery has you feeling exposed, like a live wire. You’re lost in the feeling of them, lost in the power you hold over these two dominant, competitive men while you’re on your knees. 

But it’s not long before their patience wears thin. Joel’s hand suddenly tugs you off Javier’s cock, pulling you up roughly until you’re standing again, his lips claim yours in a bruising, possessive kiss. You melt into it, moaning into his mouth, but Javier isn’t about to let Joel take the lead so easily.

“Shh, come here,” Javier says, his voice low and dangerous as he pulls you away from Joel. Did he just shush Joel? Was he shushing you? He captures your lips in his own heated kiss. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, and you can taste a mix of him and Joel, a combination you will never forget. 

His hands roam over your body, caressing and squeezing in ways that make you feel disconnected from your corporeal form. When he pulls away, he’s panting, his forehead pressed to yours. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Joel growls low in his throat, his hands sliding down to grip your hips tightly, spinning you back around to face him. His lips brush over your ear, his breath hot as he murmurs, “You’re mine, baby. Don’t forget it.” Then he kisses you again, his hands lifting you until you’re wrapped around his waist.

The three of you tumble onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and desperate skin-to-skin contact. Both men are eager to claim you, to mark you, to make you feel every bit of their desire. Your senses are overwhelmed—hands gripping your skin, mouths leaving hot trails along your body, their hard cocks jabbing you and grinding against you, the scent of sweat, sex, and testosterone thick in the air. 

There's no clear rhythm, no clear plan, just a frenzy, each of them vying to make their presence last on your skin. A silent battle unfolds between them. You can’t tell who’s winning between the two of them, but it doesn’t matter because you already know they’re both yours. 

Unfortunately, the uneasy cooperation doesn't last long. 

Joel’s eyes flash with irritation as he feels Javier’s hand invading his territory, and he shoves against him. “Quit gettin’ in my way,” he snaps, his voice a low rumble of frustration. 

Javier laughs darkly, unbothered. “Or what?” 

The words stoke the fire simmering in Joel's veins. They’re both so stubborn, so intent on proving their point, that the air around you vibrates with their clashing wills.

Your view, as you lay on your back, sticking to the sheets on the bed, is exquisite. You watch the jealousy start to boil over. The heat between the two of them is intoxicating. Smoldering Javier and his proclivity for control versus rough and unrefined Joel. Their bodies are slick with sweat, glistening in the low light, and they move with an intensity that makes your pulse race. 

You watch, breathless, as the tension builds, choking all three of you. It’s like the room is on fire, alarms blaring in their eyes, but they’re gonna figure this out and fuck you even if the smoke kills all three of you. 

Their voices raise as they vie for power. Both men determined to out man the other as if you weren’t already here for both of them. Your eyes are glued to the situation as Javier eggs Joel on. The masculine display of dominance and virility is a consuming scene. You’d watch them tousle, sweating, breathy, and snapping at each other in their deep, smoky voices over and over. If your hell is a time-loop, you hope this is the moment it begins. 

Your jaw drops when you see Javier’s hand shoot out, “You think you’re in control,” Javier rasps as his fingers wrap around Joel’s cock with an abrasive, punishing grip, “You think you’ve got a big dick so you can swing it around and what? Scare me off? Nah, that’d be pathetic.” 

A low primal noise rumbles in Joel’s chest, and there’s a flash of conflict in his deep brown eyes–something more profound than anger. His hips push forward despite the insult, his body betraying him before he stiffens. Rigid like a statue. You’re screaming internally. This is better than the fantasy threesome you described to Maria at girls’ night. This is better than you could’ve imagined with a decade of free time. 

You could bite right through your lip with the intensity of the visual unfolding. Arousal stirs, increasing in velocity like a whirlpool. It weighs hot and sticky like molasses churning in your stomach at the sight of their ferocity. The energy between them is entirely too much to handle. It’s a fight, a shootout between your two cowboys, but there’s something undeniably erotic about the sparks and magnetism beneath their ire. 

Joel is still sinking into his internal conflict, not just from the rough grip of Javier’s hand but from the sudden jolt of pleasure that twists wickedly in his gut. Warring with his own sense of identity, Joel’s jaw clenches, and for a moment, he’s not just fighting Javier–he’s wrestling with something else. Something hidden in the dark now has a blinding spotlight shining directly in the eyes. 

Javier’s touch is searing, giving Joel the intrusive thought that he’ll be able to see marks on his own cock tomorrow. The contact is like a riptide, sucking Joel into himself. Shooting pleasure up his spine, confusing and infuriating him. It’s raw, it’s real, and it feels good–too good. Why the hell does it feel good? Joel’s chest tightens, and shame gnaws at him, a debilitating concoction with the undeniable carnal thrill overriding his logic. 

Joel’s thoughts race. This shouldn’t turn him on. It can’t turn him on. But, fuck, it sure does. He can’t stop the groan that pours from his lips as that thought solidifies in his mind. His hips twitch, jerking into Javier’s palm, despite the other voice in his head screaming that this isn’t who he is. 

Javier, the observant bastard, doesn’t drop his gaze from Joel’s. He sees how time stops for Joel. He sees how the man in his grasp is astral projecting into a thousand arguments with himself. But Javier is impatient and not immune to the noise that came from Joel when he grabbed his throbbing cock. 

He squeezes harder, and Joel’s resistance is razor-thin. He succumbs to the desire like it’s quicksand and he’s waist-deep already. He can shake off the disgust and grapple with the parts he can’t understand another time–right now, he can’t push away from the sharp tug in his gut that screams for more. 

You see it. When Joel’s eyes flash, something ripples throughout the air in your bedroom. Something tender is screaming like a newborn behind the walls he projects. 

The tension in the room discharges, striking all of you like lightning. You desperately want to shout at the two of them, locked in the homoerotic trance in front of you, about how fucking hot they are. At this point, you swear a warm breeze, just a gust of air, would be enough to make you come at the sight of them. But you’re transfixed, and when something shifts within Joel–you decide not to interrupt. Hell, you don’t even want to blink. 

The earth starts to rotate again, and a wicked smirk tugs at Joel’s lips. “Show me then,” he taunts, voice gravelly and low, “show me who’s in control.” 

The sight of them, all masculine dominance and begrudging lust, makes your heart pound. Watching them fight for power for you is more tantalizing than you ever imagined.

Joel’s challenge hangs in the air like a match struck in a room filled with gasoline, and the pressure in their gaze is so heavy you worry the bedframe beneath you will snap. 

Javi's eyes narrow, his smirk widening into something wretched. His grip tightens around Joel's cock, twisting slightly as if testing his limits. "Careful what you wish for," Javier purrs, his voice saturated with a dark promise. "You might just find you enjoy it too much."

“Oh, shit,” you whisper as your eyes dart between Joel’s fierce, defiant gaze and Javier’s calculated confidence. 

There’s a battle raging, but it’s not just for dominance—it’s for something deeper.

Joel’s chest heaves. You can see him fighting the urge to pull away, to shut down, or to lash out, to assert himself in the most brutal way possible. 

But the hungry look in Javier’s eyes challenges him, dares him, Javier isn’t afraid of Joel, and he definitely isn’t going to back off. Joel’s body betrays him once more. He leans into Javier’s touch, his hips giving a barely perceptible thrust forward, a silent admission. He’s not backing down.

Javier's expression softens into something dangerous, his thumb brushing over the head of Joel's cock with a slow, deliberate stroke that pulls a throaty noise from Joel. "You see that?" Javi says, his voice a husky whisper, as he watches your expression while his hand continues twisting and tugging at Joel’s cock. "He likes a little fight, doesn't he?"

You give Javi a lazy nod with glassy, heavy-lidded eyes, as you watch the scene unfolding. 

Joel grabs Javier by the back of the neck, yanking him close. “You think you’ve got me figured out?” he snarls, his breath hot against Javier’s face. Their faces are so close. You are absolutely shrieking internally; if you could plug your consciousness into a speaker, it would be deafening. You’re desperately darting between their eyes, waiting for one of them to drop their gaze to the other’s lips. 

When Javier cups Joel’s scruffy jaw in his hand, you figure you could die happy in this moment, but time hasn’t stopped. The air is so thick you could build a foundation out of it. It’s unbearable. Slow motion. You see the briefest glimmer of a genuine, earnest smile on Javier’s face before his mouth hovers over Joel's ear with a final challenge. “Tell me to stop.” 

Javi makes the move, only soft for a millisecond when his lips brush against Joel’s, and then he’s fervently kissing your man in an urgent and hungry kiss. You can’t control the gasping, “Oh my god,” that comes out of your mouth. You’re glued to the vision of them as their bodies press together, and Joel’s hand slides down to grab Javier’s cock boldly. You wish you had a camera, though it’s likely seared deeply into your long-term memory immediately. 

The kiss is electric, charged with an anger and passion that ignites something primal in the room. Your heart pounds as you watch them, their mutual challenge giving way to unfiltered desire. They break apart, their breaths ragged and eyes hazy with lust, and the intensity of their interaction leaves you breathless. The ache between your legs is unbearable, painful.

“Jesus,” you gasp, unable to hold back any longer, “you two look so fucking good like that,” you pant, “but please,” your voice is hoarse and distant, “I need one of you to fuck me.” 

Your words break the spell, and both men’s eyes snap to you, their expressions fierce. Javier’s grip loosens on Joel, and Joel, in turn, shoves him away, just enough to reclaim some space, some control. But it’s clear now—there’s a shift in the air. 

Joel’s eyes are on you, dark and smoldering, and he moves in like a predator cornering its prey. “Tell us how bad you need it.”

Before you can answer, Javier is beside you, his lips brushing against your ear. “Tell us what you want,” he whispers, his hand sliding down your belly to dip between your legs, his fingers finding you soaked, swollen, and needy. 

You let out a shaky breath, your head falling back against the pillow as the two of them close in on you, their bodies hot and demanding. “I want both of you,” you manage to breathe out, your voice cracks with need. “I need both of you.” 

Joel’s lips curl into a knowing grin as he positions himself on the other side of you, his mouth stealing the air from your lungs in a possessive kiss. Javier’s mouth finds your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, his hand working you with expert precision, pulling sounds from your throat that you didn’t know you could make.

They devour you, their movements synchronized and intense. Javier’s lips travel lower, teasing your breasts, his tongue flicking over your nipple with a slow, torturous rhythm. You arch into them, caught between their bodies, desperate and lost in the whirlwind of sensation.

When Joel finally pulls away, his breath is ragged, and his eyes are heavy with lust. “You ready, baby?” he murmurs, his hand trailing down to replace Javier’s, no longer bothered when their fingers brush. He swallows, feeling just how wet you are for them. “We’re gonna make you beg for it.”

Javier’s voice hums against your skin. “And you’re going to love every second of it,” he adds, as Joel’s fingers curl into you with just the right pressure, making you whimper.

You nod, breathless, your body trembling with anticipation. “Please,” you whisper, “I need you both. Now.” They don’t make you say it again. 

Joel is on top of you first, of course, following through on his promise to make you beg. He looms above you, a dark shadow of power and hunger, his eyes devouring every inch of your exposed skin. One strong arm holds his weight above you while the other grips the base of his cock, positioning it just close enough to tease, to torment. 

You can feel the heat radiating off him, so close yet so agonizingly far from where you desperately want him. He slides the head of his cock over your slick entrance, back up to circle your throbbing clit, again and again. His movements are slow, deliberate, every touch designed to drive you insane. Despite his roughness, Joel moves with wicked precision, knowing exactly how to make you tremble and whimper.

Joel always knows how to drive you to the brink, and when to back off to leave you wanting more. Javier keeps you distracted, though—intentionally, you realize—with his hands all over you, groping and squeezing like he’s trying to imprint the feel of your body in his mind. His mouth is everywhere, hot and demanding, alternating between deep, open-mouthed kisses and sharp, stinging nips that make you gasp. Together, they overwhelm you completely. It’s a tandem assault that leaves you breathless, your body arching and twisting beneath them, craving more.

You try to move, to push your hips up toward Joel, needing him inside you already. But he’s not ready to give in just yet. His broad palm presses flat against your lower belly, pinning you in place. His voice, deep and authoritative, carries a sinister promise. “Not yet.”

A frustrated whine escapes your lips. Joel knows how to unravel you, piece by piece, until you’re nothing but a pleading mess beneath him, desperate for him to finally take you. Just when you’re about to give in and really beg, Joel sinks his cock into you in one slow, deliberate stroke, filling you to the hilt. 

Your back arches off the bed, a broken moan slipping from your lips as Javi sinks his teeth into the delicate skin below your jaw. The sting sends a sharp jolt of pleasure through you, and you clench tight around Joel in response.

For Joel, that moment when he’s buried deep inside you is nothing short of a revelation. He feels your heat, and the way your walls flutter around him, and it’s like everything else fades away. He’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

Joel holds you on the edge, like your own personal pleasure demon, the keeper of your torment and ecstasy. Your hips try to grind against him, but he holds you still, his grip on your hips firm. 

Joel drags his cock almost painfully slowly in and out of you, his movements unhurried, savoring the sight of you writhing beneath him. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, your eyes half-lidded as he increases his speed just slightly, a lazy rhythm that still drives you wild.

When Javier’s hand slips between your bodies, rubbing circles over your clit, it’s almost too much. Your orgasm slams into you, a tidal wave that leaves you shuddering and gasping for breath, your body writhing beneath them both. 

But even in your haze, you crave more. After catching your breath, you tell Joel what you want and he nods, pulling out with a groan and shifting off of you. 

You reposition, straddling Javier, and grinning as you plan to tease him now. 

With just the head of his cock inside of you, you circle your hips and arch as if you’re going to take him deep before circling again and repeating your tease. But when he rewards you with a frustrated noise, you don’t waste anymore time. You slip Javier’s cock deeper into your still recovering cunt. 

You’re once again determined to put on a show for Javier, but moreso for Joel. You ride Javi with everything you have left, bouncing energetically and gasping when you slow down to grind against him for your own pleasure. 

The room fills with the rhythmic sound of skin against skin and your breathy moans, Javier’s groans mingling with your own as he grips your hips tightly, guiding you up and down his length.

Joel watches intently as you ride Javier. His own hand is on his cock, stroking slowly, his eyes dark with lust. “Look at you,” he murmurs, before leaning in close so his breath tickles your ear. “So greedy, takin’ him like that. Bet you could take us both at the same time, huh? Stuffed full of both our cocks?”

Javier chuckles beneath you, smiling, even as his breath comes out in harsh pants. “I think she’d like that,” he adds, his voice rough. “She’s already so tight around me. Imagine how she’d feel with both of us stretching her out.”

The idea sends a shiver through you, and you can’t help but moan at the thought. Your movements on Javier’s cock become more frantic, more desperate. Joel’s words, Javier’s teasing—it’s all too much, and not enough.

Joel grins, clearly pleased with your reaction. His hand reaches out to cup one of your breasts, squeezing it firmly before his thumb and forefinger close around your nipple, twisting just enough to make you gasp. “Oh, you like that idea, don’t you? You wanna take us both next time?”

Your mind is a fog of pleasure, and you can barely form a coherent thought, much less a response. 

Next time. 

But you nod, a whimper escaping your lips as you bounce harder on Javier’s cock, desperate to chase that high again.

Javier’s grip on your hips tightens, his thrusts becoming erratic as he watches you unravel above him. “Fuck, she’s close again,” he mutters, his eyes flicking to Joel. “You gonna let her come?”

Joel’s mischevous grin widens. “Oh, I think she’s earned it this time.” He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. “Come for us, baby. Show us how much you want it.”

His words are all you need. Your body tenses, and your orgasm hits you like a freight train. You cry out, your walls clenching tight around Javier as waves of pleasure ripple through you. It’s all too much, your body trembling with the intensity of it all.

But your insatiable men aren’t done. They exchange a heated glance, an unspoken understanding passing between them. 

“I think it’s time we really see what she can handle,” Joel murmurs, pulling you off of Javier and repositioning you on all fours on the bed. His hands guide your hips back toward him, his thick cock pressing against your slick entrance.

“Look at you,” Javi quips at Joel, “sharing so nicely.”

You’re too far gone to see how Joel responds. 

Javier moves in front of you, his cock hard and glistening with your slick as he grips your chin, guiding your lips to his length. “Open up for me,” he purrs, his voice low and full of desire.

You do as he says, your lips parting, and tongue sticking out to take him in. The taste of yourself on his cock makes you moan, and you feel Joel’s hands tighten on your hips as he pushes into you from behind, filling you once more. The sensation of being taken from both ends sends your mind spiraling. You’re stretched and stuffed, caught between them, every nerve alive with the sensation.

Joel’s thrusts are slow and deep, savoring the way you clench around him. His voice is a low growl, filled with dark amusement. “Takin’ both of us so well. So good for us, aren’t you?”

Javi echoes him, his voice more breathless as you work your mouth along his length. “Yeah, that’s it. Fuck, you’re perfect like this. Can’t get enough of you.”

They flirt with each other as they use you, teasing, taunting. “Bet she could handle both our cocks inside her next time,” Joel says, his voice heavy with lust. “Fill her up so good she won’t be able to walk.”

Javi grins, his hand tangling in your hair, guiding you to take him deeper. “Oh, I think she’d love that,” he agrees. “She’s a greedy little thing, isn’t she? Always eager for more.”

Their words, their praise, the way they talk about you as if you’re their shared prize—it sends a fresh wave of arousal through you. Your body rocks back and forth between them, caught in their rhythm, your moans muffled and garbled around Javier’s cock.

Joel’s thrusts grow rougher, more demanding, his control slipping. His fingers dig into your hips, pulling you back onto his cock with each powerful thrust. “Fuck,” he grunts.

Javier’s hips buck forward, pushing deeper into your throat. “Keep going,” he groans. “You can take it.”

Your body trembles, overwhelmed by the sensations, but you push through, driven by their praise and the sheer intensity of it all. You can feel another orgasm building, and Joel seems to sense it too. “Come on, baby,” he urges. “Come for us again. Show us how much you love being filled by both of us.”

His words tip you over the edge, and you come undone. Your walls clench around Joel as you shudder with the force of your climax, the intensity of being so out of control between them sending shockwaves through your body. Your muffled cries vibrate around Javier’s cock, making him groan loudly above you.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Javier growls, his hand tightening in your hair. His hips jerk forward, pushing deeper into your mouth, and you feel the burst of his release spilling over your tongue. “You got it, sweetheart, just like that.”

You do as he says, swallowing around him, and the sensation sends another shiver through Javier. His cock twitches in your mouth, his breaths ragged as he slowly pulls out. His eyes are dark and intense as he watches you, lips glistening with his release. Without hesitation, he cups your face, leaning down to kiss you deeply, his tongue tasting his own come on your lips. The kiss is hot and possessive, and you moan into it, the taste of him mingling with the heat still burning through your veins.

Behind you, Joel doesn’t relent. His thrusts grow more erratic, each one rougher and more desperate than the last. He grips your hips with bruising force, pounding into you with a single-minded focus. “That’s good, baby,” he rasps against the back of your neck, his voice barely more than a growl. “So good like this. Stuffed full and takin’ everything we give you.”

Javier breaks the kiss, smirking as he watches the way you jolt beneath Joel’s punishing rhythm. “She’s something special, isn’t she?” he teases, brushing a thumb over your swollen lips. “Lucky she wanted to share, really.”

Joel’s gaze lifts to meet Javier’s, a wicked grin tugging at his lips. “Damn right.” He thrusts harder, his pace relentless now, chasing his own release. “Gonna fill you up now. You ready?”

Your only response is a breathless moan, your body still trembling from the intensity of your orgasm. Joel’s rhythm grows frantic, his hips slamming into yours as he buries himself as deep as he can go, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. With a guttural groan, he comes inside you, his cock pulsing as he spills deep within you.

The feeling of his hot release filling you up sends a final shiver through your body, and you sag between them, completely spent. Joel slows, easing you through the last waves of pleasure before he finally pulls out, his breath still heavy.

Both men move quickly to support you, guiding you gently onto the bed, your body limp and blissed-out between them. Javier strokes your cheek, his eyes softening as he looks at you. “You did so well, sweetheart,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Better than we ever imagined.”

Joel, still catching his breath, chuckles low in his chest. “Think she deserves a reward next time,” he says, his hand coming up to brush the damp hair away from your face. “Maybe we’ll see just how much she can handle.”

A soft, tired smile tugs at your lips, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks of pleasure. You’re too exhausted to respond, but the thought of next time sends a warm flutter through your chest.

The weight of both their bodies beside you is comforting, grounding, and as you start to drift off into a contented haze, you feel their arms wrap around you. It’s a feeling of warmth and safety that you hadn’t realized you needed, and you hope, somewhere in the back of your mind, that this isn’t the last time you find yourself tangled between them.

With your eyes fluttering closed, you let out a soft sigh, content and utterly satisfied. The last thing you hear before sleep takes you is the low rumble of their voices, murmuring something you can’t quite make out but filled with a promise of more to come.

Please let me know if you enjoyed or if you hated it or if you have thots bc i wanna hear 'em

dividers by @cyberangel-graphics

tags for those who want 'em all and those who said joel x javi x reader yes pls: @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @lovely-vamp-princess @magneticecstasy @adoreyouusugar

@94namkooksworld

@swankyorange @mermaidgirl30 @itwasntimethatdidit40

@thundermartini - ty I forgot to check if the tags worked!! 💗

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

Joel and Preggo wife chillin at home where Joel is meandering around the kitchen. And you're sitting in your big chair eying him suspiciously. The microwave chimes off and Joel retrives his little cup. Stirring his fork in the dry mix, he blows on the contents.

Youre leaning very far over your chair to unsuccessfully get a glimpse at the soon-to-be-yours food in his hands.

"What are you making?" You ask curiously.

"Mac and cheese," he says calmly, looking down.

"And you aren't gonna offer me any?"

"Oh," Joel looks over to you: his a little angry pregnant gremlin. How stupid of him not to offer. His poor pregnant wife could smell anything over a mile away, and hes just ignornantly in his own world helping himself. "Sorry, would you like some?"

You fold your arms attitudinally and shift forward away from him. "No."

He shrugs. "Ok."

Joel's taken his seat on the couch opposite, fanning cool breath over his Mac and cheese. His fork is 1 cm from his open mouth when you interrupt: "Well....okay yes i'll just have one bite of yours."

He pauses, the steam teasing his tongue. "Ah ok." Getting up, he hands you the cup and fork.

"Ya bastard," you mumble clearly.

You takes one bite, humming contently as the cheesey noodley highly processed gooey mess fills your buds and travels warmly to your belly. Joel reaches for the cup but you take another forkfull. Then you continue to mix and eat it, absorbed in the tv while Joel just stands there, his mac and cheese cup getting emptier and emptier.

Despite his hovering, he quickly accepts he's not getting it back and goes to make another for himself.

When you finish and set it down on the table with a satisfied "ahhhh", rubbing your pregnant belly, Joel grins.

"Good?"

"Meh. Was just ok."

You don't see him frowning, looking back at the empty cabinet with no more Mac and cheese.

Title: Echoes of the Past

(Joel miller x platonic!gn!reader)

---

The sky was overcast, a blanket of dull gray that seemed fitting for the world they lived in. The air was thick with the scent of decay, a constant reminder of the life they had lost twenty years ago. Joel Miller walked steadily, his eyes scanning the area with a vigilance honed from years of survival. Beside him, you moved just as cautiously, your steps echoing his, a silent testament to the bond formed in the crucible of the apocalypse.

You had known Sarah Miller. The memory of her was a bright spot in the dark chasm of your past, a beacon of innocent days when laughter came easily and the world was wide open. The night the outbreak began, you had been at her house, the two of you staying up late, talking about dreams that now seemed impossibly naive.

The screams, the chaos, the bullets—Sarah's death had shattered you. She had been your best friend, your anchor, and in a cruel twist of fate, you were left adrift. Joel had been there too, his own world destroyed in the span of a heartbeat. Your shared grief had created a connection that neither time nor the harsh realities of the new world could sever.

"Keep an eye out for runners," Joel's voice broke through your reverie, grounding you in the present. You nodded, gripping your weapon a little tighter. The two of you were searching for supplies in an old apartment complex, the remnants of forgotten lives scattered around like leaves in autumn.

The silence was oppressive, filled with the weight of unsaid words. You both worked well together, a seamless partnership forged from necessity and mutual respect. Yet, the specter of Sarah hung between you, a ghost neither of you acknowledged but both felt keenly.

As you moved through the building, your eyes caught sight of a faded photograph on the wall. It was a family picture, the smiles frozen in time, oblivious to the horrors that would come. You paused, your fingers brushing the image gently. It reminded you of Sarah, of the life she had and the future she would never see.

Joel noticed your hesitation and turned to look. His expression softened for a brief moment before hardening again. "We need to keep moving," he said gruffly, but there was an undercurrent of understanding in his tone.

You nodded, tearing your gaze away from the photo. "Yeah," you replied softly, following him out of the room. The two of you continued your search, finding a few useful items among the wreckage. As you made your way back to your makeshift camp, the tension eased slightly, the familiar routine providing a semblance of normalcy.

That night, as the fire crackled and the darkness pressed in around you, Joel handed you a small flask. "To Sarah," he said simply. You took it, your throat tightening as you swallowed the burn. "To Sarah," you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

The silence that followed was heavy with memories, but it was a shared silence, a moment of understanding and connection. Joel's gaze met yours, and in that instant, you knew you weren't alone in your grief. The world had changed, but the bond you shared with him—born of loss and forged in fire—was a constant.

"We'll get through this," Joel said, his voice steady and resolute. "For Sarah."

You nodded, the weight on your chest easing slightly. "For Sarah," you agreed, the words a promise and a prayer. Together, you faced the uncertain future, two souls bound by the past but determined to survive.

In a world gone mad, you found strength in each other. And as long as you remembered Sarah, her memory would be the light that guided you through the darkest of times.

Me every time I see someone telling me not to write angst^

Just a reminder that I wrote a new thing. And maybe will have another new thing to post soon, too!

Sunny Side of Heaven

Hi, ya'll! I've finished my first prompt for Good Things Happen BINGO! This was a prompt from the wonderful @march-flowerr, who requested "Butterflies: Sarah & Joel, butterfly garden. 20 Years later, he takes Ellie to see the monarch migration and talks about Sarah." I know this is Good Things Happen BINGO, but you all know I love some angst, so there is more of that than I probably originally intended, my bad. I don't usually write in present-tense, and to be honest, I don't know that I will again - it was a challenge for me, and I don't know that I quite hit the mark. But I still had fun writing this, and it felt nice to take a break from my other WIP.

For Your Love

Banner made by @toointojoelmiller

[As Long as You Follow] [People Still Listen to Fleetwood Mac in the Apocalypse]

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC

Words: 3,227

Summary: She liked him like this, craved it; him pinned beneath her thighs, a vessel steered by her desires. Intoxicating, when she deepened their kiss and then pulled away from him and he tried to follow her, head lifting off the pillow, lips seeking hers even when she was out of reach, his abdomen taut with strain. There was something thrilling about it; about someone so much bigger than herself, built like a storm with muscles that could overtake her in a moment, choosing restraint; something satisfying about those large, rough hands sliding along her skin, so gentle when they didn’t have to be.

Warnings: +18, MDNI, smut, oral sex, face-riding, unprotected PIV. Minor angst referenced. Age gap (Joel is 62, OC is in her mid-forties), my Joel is soft AF and loves his wife.

This is my first time posting something like this as a standalone. This is actually a scene from chapter 18 of As Long as You Follow, but also works as its own piece (in that you don't have to read the whole fic to understand this scene). Enjoy!

◦ ❖ ◦

Dawn was barely a whisper when she crept back upstairs, her skin flushed with warmth, her head swimming from even the miniscule amount of liquor she’d been encouraged to drink. She shed her sweatpants with a clumsy grace, using the wall as an anchoring point, and then poured herself onto the mattress with a sigh, burrowing until she sank into the cool embrace of the bedding.

Unsurprisingly, Joel was awake, his eyes steady and observant as she claimed her pillow. “Hi,” she said quietly, and he quirked an eyebrow. She wondered how long he’d laid here just like this, waiting for her to return; wondered if he’d gone looking for her, or had been patient enough to assume she would come back on her own. But he didn’t resist her when she slid over to him, the cool sheet parting like water around her, pressing her warm skin against his. If he was surprised, he didn’t let on; he fell into her embrace easily, fingers sliding under her shirt to trace the delicate architecture of her ribs, his breath, a warm current, brushing against her cheek.

"Would you do something for me?" she breathed into the hollow of his neck.

“Name it,” was his immediate reply, though she let herself linger in the space between them for a little while longer; let him nuzzle into her hair, his hand gliding across her skin, gripping and cupping softly – let herself feel it, his love and affection. In the end, words were unnecessary. She tangled her fingers in his patchy beard, tilting his chin down so he could meet her lips. He responded instantly, his body tensing for a moment before relaxing completely against hers.

In the cocoon of his embrace, the night's unease unfurled and floated away, dissipating into the shadows. It seemed impossible to find anything to be scared of when they were just like this – because nothing terrible had ever happened to her when she was wrapped in his arms, and she knew with a sudden clarity that nothing ever would. “I love you,” she whispered, and then was filled with frustration because even this didn’t seem like enough to convey the immensity of what he meant to her, and all the ways he had reshaped her life for the better. He kissed her again, a gentle press of lips against hers, and then drew her close, his chin resting on the crown of her head.

“I love you,” he echoed. “Go to sleep, baby.”

And just like that, her mind stilled.

But she didn’t sleep. Whether intentional or not, she’d already given up on it. Joel slept, and she didn’t begrudge this of him, this man who gave so much of himself to everyone and everything – to her, to their family, to his community, nevermind the strain of his aging body. She closed her eyes, but sleep never found her, and when the sky began to lighten along its edges, cool and gray, and the birdsong began to trill through their open window, swept in with the breeze that stirred their curtains, she found herself still wide awake. The room was dim, the branches of the old oak outside casting a slow, hypnotic dance of shadows across the bedroom walls. She watched them shift and change, restlessness pulsing through her veins.

Joel stirred in his sleep, breaking their embrace when he rolled onto his back. She shifted onto her side when he did, taking him in as he lay bathed in the soft glow of the approaching day. He looked so peaceful, his features relaxed, his breath even and deep. She remembered doing this during their very first night together; remembered being so full of nervous energy that she hadn’t slept at all, all at once thrilled and terrified of this man that lay sleeping next to her, uncertain of where he would end up fitting into her life but so eager to find out.

For some reason, she could only hear Ellie’s voice in her head, her recollection of her own early days in Jackson; ‘I just didn’t understand why it was so easy for him – how, after everything we’d been through, he could just turn around and be okay. But I figured…he was pretending, you know? For me.’ And she wondered if he was doing the same thing for her, and had been since they got back to town – pretending, for her sake, holding them both together while she crumbled, replaying the familiar dance they'd performed again and again over the years. It unnerved her just as much as it flooded her with gratitude, and she found her vision blurring, his sleeping face glowing and fracturing before she blinked away these unexpected tears, and suddenly it wasn’t enough just to be close to him.

“Joel,” she murmured, a whisper drifting across their pillows. Her movements were deliberately quiet, slow as molasses as she rolled herself over, her hand reaching for him beneath the sheets until her fingers could trace a languid path across his ribs and the expanse of his bare chest. She watched his face as she moved, searching for any flicker of disturbance. “Joel,” she breathed again, his name stretched taut across her tongue.

Finally, he shifted; his features, pale and sculpted in the muted light that speared through their flimsy curtains, pulling tight, his mustache twitching above parted lips. Eyes that glittered like gemstones blinked open, a small, confused grunt leaving his throat.

“What –” The soothing cadence of her voice, the softness of her hand feathering back and forth across his ribs – none of it mattered; he lurched for an upright position, eyes darting around the room.

“Easy,” she whispered, gently pushing him back down; and he hesitated, but seemed to trust her enough to allow this, settling his head back on his pillow with a groan. “Sorry, just…was seeing if you were awake.”

“Am now,” he rasped, voice thick and gritty with sleep, though his grip on her hand was soft after he fumbled for it, squeezing it as it lay across his chest. “What is it?”

She answered him in movement; a soft, measured shift when she swung a leg over his hips, the sheets whispering against her skin until she settled astride him. There was an exhale of surprise, a breathed oh – that was immediately silenced when she captured his mouth with her own, a gentle conquest, her lips velvet against his. She didn’t linger in preambles, deepening her movements with quiet need, her tongue flicking past his teeth – and he hesitated, just for a moment, his hand adrift until it found its home on the curve of her hip.

She liked him like this, craved it; him pinned beneath her thighs, a vessel steered by her desires. Intoxicating, when she deepened their kiss and then pulled away from him and he tried to follow her, head lifting off the pillow, lips seeking hers even when she was out of reach, his abdomen taut with strain. There was something thrilling about it; about someone so much bigger than herself, built like a storm with muscles that could overtake her in a moment, choosing restraint; something satisfying about those large, rough hands sliding along her skin, so gentle when they didn’t have to be.

“Darlin’ –” She sensed his shift immediately; felt his hands migrate to the small of her back, urging her forward, but she shook her head – though she went to him, offering a rather chaste kiss, a fleeting touch of their lips that only seemed to frustrate him. He groaned softly as she continued an upward journey, peppering light kisses across the bridge of his nose, his brow, his forehead while her hands steadied themselves on his shoulders, holding him in place.

“Just lay back,” she said softly, pressing her lips against his again just to stifle any response he might have had. And there was something there; a puff of air that met her lips, a slight sigh that she felt echo through his throat, because her mouth went there next, nipping and licking as that sigh deepened to a groan. “Quiet,” she chided against his collarbone, and that groan turned into an amused scoff – but he did quiet himself, his hands following her, winding through her hair, twirling the golden strands between his knuckles. She felt the response of his body as her touch grew bolder, the stiffening of his chest and the clenching of his stomach when she softly, so softly kissed the half-moon scar above his hip, but his hands remained gentle, careful not to pull too tightly –

– until she descended too low, finding him already straining against his boxer briefs, and she kissed that, too; felt the twitch of his cock through the fabric right before he reflexively jerked his hips. His fingers tightened in her hair and then let go, and suddenly there were hands on her shoulders, gently trying to pull her back up, and she heard his voice rumble through the darkness, “Sweetness – you don’t gotta do that–"

And she knew, with a mix of tenderness and frustration, what he was doing – shielding her, protecting her in that endearing, infuriating way that was so innately him. But she had no use for his protection – not tonight, anyway. She shook her head, grasped his wrists firmly, and pried his hands away from her shoulders. She didn't release him immediately, savoring the moment, placing a lingering kiss on his knuckles before letting go. He responded with a sigh, his head sagging back against his pillow, his chest rising and falling visibly in the dim light; she saw the rhythmic expansion and contraction of his ribs sliding beneath his skin, felt the nervous jolt of his leg when she straddled it, her own heart pounding in her chest.

“I don’t have to do anything,” she murmured, her fingers teasing the waistband of his boxers, “but I’m not doing anything I don’t want to. Okay?”

She watched him carefully, moved slowly, pulling down the fabric until he sprung free, ready and willing despite the rest of his body’s hesitance. She knew that he was watching her, too; saw his eyes as two pinpricks of light glittering through the darkness, heard the sharp intake of his breath as her hand encircled him, warm and inviting – but she waited for him, waited for those eyes to flutter shut, for the quiet, gasped, ‘fuck’ that signaled his surrender –

– and there was something about it that was so familiar, so nostalgic. She thought about when they were first brought together; remembered that look on his face the first time she straddled him on that couch, mouth parted in surprise, eyes sparkling with shock and yearning – remembered the first time she took him in her mouth, the way he’d bucked his hips so harshly, overwhelmed by a sensation so new, so intense. He'd looked at her on her knees with an awe-struck reverence, as if she were the most precious treasure in the world, and that same adoration shone in his eyes now; his hand guiding the bobbing of her head while her lips sank lower, lower, every movement of her tongue causing a wonderful little gasp to push from his lungs.

There was an intoxicating power in witnessing this strong, capable man become something far more pliant in her hand, a profound pleasure in knowing she was the only one who could unravel him in this way. She enjoyed bringing him right to the edge, his strong legs quivering beneath her; knew that he was so close to bliss, because there was a steady stream of whispered Spanish cutting through the darkness – and she smiled around his cock, swirled her tongue along his salty tip, turning those words into an unintelligible groan.

He was beautiful, she thought; plush lips parted, trembling amidst the salt-and-pepper stubble of his jaw. His head tilted back, pressing into the pillow, the morning light tracing the contours of his strong jawline and glinting off the silver in his hair. She watched his tongue dart out to wet his teeth before a grimace of pleasure contorted his face, felt his fingers tangle in her hair while his other hand clenched the sheets, wrinkling the fabric beneath his desperate grip.

“Baby – hey, hey –” His hands were already in motion, before she could react; gentle but commanding, hinging under her arms and lifting her effortlessly – his arms guided her over his body, and though she longed to stay where she was she yielded to his touch, rising to meet his kiss.

And this, too, was beautiful; his lips eager to reclaim the taste of himself on her tongue, his arms encircling her waist, pulling her tight against him as his chest heaved, his words slurred against her lips, ‘god damn, woman – god damn –’ and she barely had time to feel pleased with herself, to savor her satisfaction before she was being moved again, and she was powerless to stop it, those same strong hands gripping her ribcage, lifting her with ease, then seizing her thighs. Her body responded instinctively to his urgent pull, a gasp escaping her lips followed by a startled shriek –

She was unprepared for the onslaught of sensation that engulfed her, his strong arms wrapping around the backs of her trembling thighs as he buried his face between them. She struggled to stay upright, fingers clawing until she finally managed to grip the edge of the bed’s headboard for support.

He was a man determined, her underwear nothing but a flimsy inconvenience, easily yanked aside so that his tongue could seek out her sensitive flesh, roving and licking and swirling and fuck, it was as though that tongue was made for exactly this; she was already unraveling, delicious waves of heat and pleasure rolling between her legs. When he constricted his arms around her and pulled her flush to his eager mouth, she gasped in blissful agony, his nose gliding along her sensitive bundle of nerves.

It took her a moment to find the rhythm in it; in the way he firmed and loosened his grip on her thighs, the press of his tongue at the crest of every wave created by the way he manipulated her hips - but she found it, she fell in line with it, and then she took control of it just as quickly, hastening her own movements, grinding herself against his mouth as she braced her arms against the headboard, every desperate press of his tongue like an electric shock that ignited every nerve ending in her body.

It was blinding, this release; washing over her like a cool wave as he feasted on her with unbridled hunger, unfaltering even as her hips stuttered, then stilled, until she had nothing else to give him; her entire body pulled tight as a guitar string, stretched to its limit and ready to snap –

She hadn’t even realized that she’d stopped breathing until the air came slamming back into her lungs; she gasped, chest filled with fire, pulse pounding in her throat, forking into her limbs – and before she could even begin to come down, he managed to wrap his arm around her back, hefting her away from him and rolling her onto her back as though she weighed absolutely nothing – he moved with her, crawling over her, a comforting, heavy weight pressing her into the mattress – and she didn’t fit, exactly; their limbs tangled, her head lolling over the edge, but it didn’t matter because there was his hand cradling her neck, holding her up; there were his lips meeting hers, slick with her own taste, and there was him, all of him, filling her senses, his muscles pressed against her –

He rooted himself inside of her in fiery stretch, and she welcomed it, brief as it was; sank her teeth into muscle of his shoulder and cried out with each thrust, unconcerned with the noise of it all because she wanted him to hear her, wanted him to understand exactly what he was doing to her – and when he unspools inside of her, it’s with a cry that was almost primal, that last stuttered thrust pinning her against their sheets, his legs taut, his breath hot on her neck.

He was stifling, when he finally settled; his skin scorching against hers, sweat pooling where their stomachs pressed together, dripping from his neck – and she didn’t care, dragging her fingers lightly along his glistening flesh and tangling them in his stringy hair, holding him close to her trembling body. He panted against her chest, one hand still gripping the back of her neck, the other searching for her unencumbered arm as it rested across the sheets.

“That was – supposed to be –” She drew his arm closer, their fingers interlacing. Her lips traced a path of reverence along his thumb, his knuckles, down to his wrist, punctuating each word with a tender kiss, “– about you – and just you –”

He groaned softly, shifting his head to rest his chin on her chest. “Christ, darlin’ – when’re you gonna learn?” Those dark eyes glittering at her through the sun's first tentative rays that filtered weakly through the curtains. His hand abandoned her neck, slipping under the curve of her lower back, and with a slight grunt, he pulled her towards the center of the bed, rescuing her head from its precarious position near the edge. It was a safe place, she decided; tucked against the hard plane of his chest, his fingers weaving through her hair, his lips a whisper against any exposed skin he could find: brushing her nose, pressing a lingering kiss against the pulse point of her neck. “It’s never just about me.”

She had known the illusion of love well before meeting Joel Miller – she was pretty sure of it, anyway. She’d been held before, just like this; felt the comforting embrace of a man’s arms around her, heard the assurances being made from lips loosened by their intimacy, their bodies slack and spent. She'd tasted the fleeting sensation of safety, and even believed it when it was promised to her – because she’d chosen to, because in the harshness of the QZs she’d called home for so many years, delusion was a wonderful refuge from reality. It was strange, maybe, that there was no choice in this now; no pretense, no manufactured hope while sirens blared outside and neighbors' screams pierced through thin, flaking walls.

In Jackson, the world was distilled to its simplest elements: there was only sunlight that streamed through her curtains, only birdsong that flowed through the open window. Only her husband, the man who put a ring on her finger and brought her back from hell again and again, who took her shattered body and rebuilt it with pleasure and showered her in the kind of love that she’d only encountered in the pages of books.

And when he kissed her again, and again in their sun-dappled bedroom, when he held her face in his hands and promised her that she was always going to be safe with him, it was the easiest truth she'd ever embraced.

Wow!!! I’m loving this story so much!!! I hope our babies have a HEA💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 ∘ ∘ ∘ 𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕤 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 ∘ ∘ ∘ ║ ⓒⓗⓐⓟⓣⓔⓡⓔⓓ

𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 ∘ (𝙣𝙤𝙪𝙣) 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚖𝚗𝚒𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚍𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚖, 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚏 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚞𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚞𝚙𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚜, 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚞𝚒𝚕𝚝-𝚞𝚙 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢.

⦅ 𝚗 𝚊 𝚟 𝚒 𝚐 𝚊 𝚝 𝚒 𝚘 𝚗 ⦆ || ⦅ 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝⦆

| PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!OC/reader | RATING: explicit material | 18+ | CONTENT: AU//no outbreak, age gap (50/24), pining, slow burn, angst, protector!Joel, soft!Joel, POV switching, patriarchal abuse, maternal abandonment, physical/mental/financial abuse, internalized values of low self-worth, unlearning negative behaviors and mindsets, societal structures concerning abuse and recovery, dysfunctional family dynamics

| SYNOPSIS: Well into the prime of your life with little to show for it, you begin to wonder if you will ever get out of the terrible home life your mom and brother already fled. Any attempt to gain independence is thwarted by your controlling, cruel father, and you fear you will be stuck forever. It's when your neighborhood acquaintance Joel Miller enters the picture that your remaining ray of hope shines a little brighter.

𝙸. 𝙰𝚞𝚐𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝙸𝙸. 𝚂𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝙸𝙸𝙸. 𝙾𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝙸𝚅. 𝙽𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚅. 𝙳𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚅𝙸. 𝙹𝚊𝚗𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚅𝙸𝙸. 𝙵𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚅𝙸𝙸𝙸. 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑 𝙸𝚇. 𝙰𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚕 𝚇. 𝙼𝚊𝚢 𝚇𝙸. 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚎 𝚇𝙸𝙸. 𝙹𝚞𝚕𝚢 𝚇𝙸𝙸𝙸. 𝙰𝚞𝚐𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝙰𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗

Sexy, hot, sweet. I need him😫😫😫😫😫

tired

400 words, raider!Joel x f!reader (whose hair can be tugged for this one). Would take place around the time of Close or Gun Hug. On the 1 yr anniversary of Esquire Day, this is opposite energy from Stash House. Just a blurb of kinda horny fluff. An ordinary moment. Shoutout to @milla-frenchy and @javierswhore for your asks today with this pic. Also @secretelephanttattoo bc it's heavy on the jacket and zippers.

Joel is resting on the cot with his legs spread and one knee up. You're sitting at the foot of the old mattress, leaned against the wall. You're waiting to go back to the trailer, but he's tired. "C'mere," he commands gruffly with a soft edge. You crawl between his legs and lay on him. He rests a hand on your back, and the leather of his jacket makes a low squeak as he moves his arm. The fact that his other hand doesn't slide under your dress tells you how tired he is. Instead, he's got the other hand on his head.

You rest your head on his chest and look at the arm of his jacket. It's new--to him. Your best guess would be that he took it off a freshly dead bad guy. It's a little tight on his muscles, but it looks good. You run your hand over his arm. It has zippers. A bunch. You slowly unzip one of them and he doesn't stop you. You unzip the next one a little faster and the satisfying sound leads you to zip it closed then open again.

"Whatcha doin', sweet pea?" He asks tiredly.

"I dunno," you mumble and unzip another one. This one opens to bare skin. You slide your fingers inside, resting your thumb on the outside as the rest of your digits feel his bicep. You squeeze his arm, and it flexes. The size of it makes you tingle. His skin is warm and a little sticky. Maybe he should take it off and just be in his mesh tank top. You squeeze his arm again.

He chuckles and runs a hand over your head. He holds your hair then gently pulls it downward to make you look at him. "Sure are pretty," he mumbles, then lets you go, and you feel his crotch twitch against your lower tummy. You slide your hand under yourself and fondle his belt, slipping the end of it out of his belt loop. “Whatcha up to, baby?”

“It's hurting me,” you claim.

“Mm-hm,” he agrees skeptically, condescendingly. You unbuckle him. He sighs and reaches down. You lift yourself to give him room to slide the belt off. When you let yourself back down, his package is all you feel – hot, hefty, hardening. His hips lift into you and you let out a little sigh.

He yawns, and you suggest, “Maybe you need a nap.”

“Can't sleep here," he mumbles.

You slide your hand into another jacket zipper and ask, "aren't you hot?"

"Stop your fussin'," he warns groggily. But a few minutes later, he agrees, "alright, let's go home."

-----

and you can HC whether reader would wear his jacket on the way up the hill or not. if so, he'd say it looks good on ya.

-----

Ty for reading and thanks for your patience with my break from (intentional) writing. sometimes i still have to indulge little thoughts like this. but overall taking a break from trying is really helping me mentally.

Sooooooo hot!!! Part two??!! Please!!!🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

stranded

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 2.6k

summary: your shitty boyfriend dumps you on the side of the road after a fight. joel miller finds you.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, no outbreak, explicit smut, oral (f receiving) (joel miller is a munch and u cannot convince me otherwise), slight angst, reader has a shitty/abusive (ex) bf (only briefly mentioned), allusions to piv sex, i think that's it? lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: this is my entry for the summer lovin' writing challenge put together by the incredible @pedgito, @amanitacowboy, and @chaotic-mystery (ily all so much), based on the above moodboard with the location hiking (i went for hitchhiking) and the quote "i'm your only hope". i haven't written in what feels like years & am admittedly rusty, but alas! it was so much fun to get back into writing with a little challenge. dividers by @/saradika-graphics. this was minimally edited; all mistakes are my own.

His red pickup truck had been the first car you'd seen in hours. Rain pouring down, drenching your t-shirt and streaking mascara along the apples of your cheeks, it'd been like a beacon through the fog. 

You’d asked to borrow his cell phone to call a friend. Don't have one, he’d drawled. Got a landline at my place, but the whole county’s without power.

And though you knew nothing about the man in the driver's seat -- not his name nor his history with the law -- you'd still gotten in when he'd pushed open the passenger-side door. After all, you had little other choice.

It was either that, or risk freezing to death on the side of the road where your boyfriend had deserted you.  Ex boyfriend, now. That asshole had taken everything from you: your phone, your keys, your dignity -- and left you for dead. So really, how much worse could this admittedly handsome stranger be?

Just a bit, it turns out. 

Okay, so he's giving you a lift. Back to his place to wait out the storm and call a friend on his landline once the power returns. And he's not hurling nonsensical accusations at you with hands curled tightly around the steering wheel. No declarations of, "My buddy swears he saw you dancing with another guy. Why would he lie about that?"

Still, his silence is beyond off-putting. His brows seem permanently contorted downward, his eyes narrowed on the road ahead as he drives, the highway closer and closer to flooding with every mile that passes. He hasn't asked if you're okay despite the fact that you're holding your ankle in your lap, its incessant throbbing a reminder of when your ex pushed you out of his car earlier. No, he hasn't even offered his name.

You wonder if you're driving to your death.

The first words he speak are muttered under his breath, a quick, "it's just down this road," as pavement turns to gravel. He slows the truck, tires crunching and mud splattering until the trees give way to a tiny wood cabin. The driveway is a long stretch of dirt that winds through an unkempt yard, all tall grass and overgrown shrubs.

It's dark, the sky an angry black as you hobble out of the truck. Your ankle stings and your heart pounds when the strange man rounds on you, and you flinch when he outstretches a hand.

"You hurt?"

His voice, though unamused, drips like thick, rich honey. Pools at your feet with the rainwater.

"Yeah," you respond meekly. Your fingers curl against your palm, nails digging into the skin there. "It's uh, my ankle." His eyes follow yours down to your feet. Widen at the sight of black and blue. 

"Shit."

It's quiet for a long moment. You can tell he's trying to piece it all together: how you ended up alone on the side of the road, hurt.  He still doesn't ask though. Not until a particularly loud rumble of thunder sounds overhead, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin.

He sighs, a half-hearted comforting hand on your shoulder. 

"Someone dump you out there?" 

"Yeah," you sigh. "Boyfriend. We got into a fight and he just...lost it."

The man nods. Takes a small step forward as you hop on one foot next to him. 

It must take five whole minutes to get to the front door. Your ankle only feels worse by the time you step onto the porch, throbbing having turned into searing pain somewhere along the way. You bite down hard on your bottom lip as he jostles the key in the doorknob, the metallic taste of your own blood a temporary distraction.

He motions for you to follow him in, which you do, albeit hesitantly. His house is as you'd expect it to be from your brief encounter: little furniture or decoration, dishes in the sink, a general air of…man…throughout the small, dark space.

“Sit down,” he says. “I'll get a first-aid-kit.”

“Wait,” you stop him, because for some reason it seems of utmost importance in this very moment, despite the flash flood outside and your inability to walk, to know–

“What's your name?”

“Joel.”

You situate yourself on the couch as you wait for him to return. Scan the room for any signs of imminent danger. There’s a bookshelf on the far wall, stacked top to bottom with hardcovers and carved wooden trinkets. You wonder if he – Joel – made them himself. 

You wonder if the books keep him company out here; if the stories of Huck Finn and Moby Dick make him feel less alone. 

You wonder why he’s so isolated in the first place. 

You have little time to dwell on it though, as he re-enters the room promptly, dusty first-aid-kit in one hand and a lantern in the other. He places the latter down by his feet before pulling up a footstool. Opens up the kit and pulls out a roll of gauze.

“Might hurt a little,” he warns, beginning to unravel it.

You nod. Brace yourself. 

By the look of his hands – large and gruff – you expect him to be a bit rough. But he’s gentle, surprisingly so, cradling the lower half of your leg and wrapping your ankle with laser focus. His fingers, though calloused, skate across your skin with a near-startling softness. 

You watch his face as he works on you, quickly finding yourself transfixed by the way his brows contort and his eyes narrow, by the absentminded twitch of his mouth. He looks so much less intimidating like this, and you inadvertently begin to relax into his touch.

He seems to notice this, leaning in closer to your body, and while you know it's just to get a better angle, more precision, it still sends a rather confusing shockwave of electricity up your spine. In this proximity, you can practically feel the heat radiating off of his body. Can practically see every fiber of muscle in his biceps as they flex under his flannel shirt.

This close, you're met with the rather inconvenient realization that Joel is beautiful.

You try to tell yourself that it's purely situational, that if you hadn't just been dumped on the side of the road by your asshole boyfriend, you wouldn't be seeking the physical comfort of another man. Still, this does nothing to stop the steady acceleration of your heartbeat, nor the growing arousal between your thighs. 

All of this, despite the pain in your ankle.

You almost don't realize he's done mending you, the shifting of his hand to your opposite calf sending you into a prompt spell of dizziness. Mind flooded with images of him spreading you apart, taking you right here on this worn, leather couch, you're silently reeling. 

His eyes flit up to meet yours, a little darker than you recall them being. His fingers curl against your skin and your breath hitches. 

Does he feel this too?

You shift experimentally. Let your legs fall apart just an inch. To your dismay, he pulls his hand back; clears his throat.

And just like that – the bubble bursts.

“All set,” he announces as he stands, before practically running out of the room.

A little humiliated, you retreat back into yourself. Stare out the window and pretend not to notice when he rejoins you in the living room and wordlessly drags his footstool to the opposite side of the room.

The remainder of the day passes agonizingly slow. Minutes feel like hours, the sky only growing darker, and it’s a wonder how Joel can even see the pages of the book he’s currently got his nose stuck into.

Not that he’d offered you one. 

Instead, you’ve been stuck in place. A prisoner to this couch, the springs of which are digging into your back uncomfortably. Staring out the window like some harrowed female protagonist in a period piece.

Joel doesn’t seem to notice your presence, after a while. He reads, drinks warm beer, and quite literally twiddles his thumbs. Anything to avoid talking to you. 

You’re not sure what you did wrong. Had you said something to offend him without realizing? Had your subtle pass at him been less subtle than you’d thought? Had you crossed a line? You’d really just considered it innocent flirting. Maybe Joel hadn’t.

Regardless, it makes you wonder why he even brought you here. Maybe he’d just wanted to feel like a hero – hadn’t thought about what came after. About you occupying his precious space. 

After a while of sitting in the same place, your muscles begin to ache. Plus, your throat feels dry. You need to stand, need to get something to drink. Except, when you move to get up, Joel immediately stops you. 

“Where you goin’?” 

“Need a drink.”

“I’ll get you one,” he offers. “What do you want?” 

What you really want is to go home. To forget this entire day even happened.

So you settle on–

“Vodka?” 

He hums. “Don’t got that.”

“Tequila?”

“Got some scotch left. Might be one more beer. Was really hopin’ to have it though.”

You scoff. 

“Okay. Water, then?” 

“That I can do.” 

He disappears into the kitchen and returns moments later with a glass. Hands it over without making eye contact. 

“Thanks,” you mutter. He says nothing in response. Just collects his empty beer bottles from off the floor and retreats once again. 

By the time he comes back, the sun is setting – at least, what can be seen of it through the dark clouds that still rage in the sky. 

He seems tense, fixating himself by the window and watching the storm with such acuity you think he may be waiting for the second it ends to kick you out. 

“Have you heard anything about when this is supposed to pass?” you ask.

“Have no electricity,” he grumbles. “So, no.”

You stretch out your back. Stand. This time, Joel doesn't stop you. “Just didn't know if you had a radio or something.”

“I don't.”

Rounding on him, you attempt to get him to look in your direction. Still, he stares straight ahead, like you're not even there. Frustration bubbles in you, quickly reaching a full boil.

"What is your problem?"

He finally looks at you. And then he laughs, though you get the sense that he's not amused in the slightest.

"My problem?”

You nod. Raise your eyebrows at him.

“I'm lettin' you wait out a storm in my house right now,” he says. “Doesn't seem like somethin' you should be asking me."

You scoff. "I just don't know what I did to piss you off."

He turns to face you completely now. 

"Are you kidding? Haven't done nothing but inconvenience me since you got in my truck. Askin’ for a fuckin’ cocktail like this is some kind of resort. Starin’ at me all day like i'm a guest in my own home.”

Is he fucking serious?

“Why’d you even pick me up?"

"Wasn't gonna drive by a stranded girl on the side of the road, was I?"

You're both silent for a long moment. You can't exactly be mad at him for rescuing you. Still, you feel extremely uncomfortable now, knowing that he doesn't want you here. Tears pickle the corners of your eyes threateningly. You choke them back.

"Well fine, if i'm such a fucking burden, i'll leave."

You're expecting him to open the door for you. Throw you out to the wolves. So you're more than taken aback when he shakes his head at you disapprovingly.

"Like hell you will. There's about two feet of water out there. Where you gonna go?"

"I don't know,” you admit. “But i'll figure it out."

"You'll figure it out?"

"That's what I said."

Joel tuts. "Look at the state of you right now. You can barely even walk. There’s no power anywhere. Just face it: you wanna get home safely, before tomorrow, i'm your only hope."

“Fuck you,” you spit, stepping closer to him. Where does he get off, acting like such a righteous savior? You're going to brush past him, leave anyway, but as soon as you go to move, his hand is winding around your arm.

“Don't.”

“Or what?” you hiss. 

“Just – don't.” His voice is less angry; more pleading.

“You don't want me here,” you say. It's not a question, but he nods anyway.

“Yes I do. I mean – I don't want anything to happen to you out there. Please just – let me make this up to you.”

His hand slides up to your shoulder. Squeezes gently. Your eyes wander to where he holds you. When they flit up to his face again, you find he's already gazing at you.

You're not sure who moves first.

You're back on his couch in an instant, your shorts being tugged down and off your legs, along with your panties. And then Joel is shouldering himself between your legs, shimmying down the couch and situating his face right in front of your pussy.

His nails dig into the skin of your thighs as he gets his first taste of you, and he groans. You shudder at the sight of him, the sound of him. Your fingers find their way to the curls at the crown of his head and grasp tightly onto them.

“Is this what you need, baby?” he slurs, and you nod deliriously.

“Yeah,” he smirks. “I know.”

His tongue dips into your apex, greedily lapping up some of your sweet nectar before he finally decides to put you out of your misery, dragging it up to swipe over your swollen clit. 

You instinctually buck against his face, trying to force him closer, and he chuckles. Grabs onto your thighs and pulls you toward his mouth. His tongue begins to relentlessly massage your clit and you cry out, a needy little whine that echoes through the room. 

“Mhm,” he hums against you in understanding, the vibrations of his voice sending a wave of pleasure coursing through your core. And then he pulls away, only momentarily, to spit on your pussy, the sound of it so obscene that your eyes roll back in response. He's back on you immediately, plunging two fingers into your soaked cunt and curling them against your g-spot as his tongue laves at you.

In less than a minute, you're coming hard, gushing all over his chin and his hand. He doesn't relent until you're gasping for him to stop, scratching at his shoulders in desperation. And then he's kissing you, the taste of your arousal on his mouth, and though satiated, you've never felt so starving.

“Need you,” you mumble against his lips, your hands roving restlessly across any part of him you can reach, grasping at fabric and skin.

He nibbles at your neck and you inhale the scent of him. Commit the smell of his sweat and musk to memory. This'll probably be the only time you have him, after all. You push that thought to the back of your mind. 

Sitting back on his haunches, Joel pulls off his shirt and undoes his belt. Shucks his jeans off. He hovers back over you with a newfound ferocity in his eyes. 

“Up,” he orders. Helps you sit. You pull your own shirt off and toss it aside. Unclasp your bra and let it fall from your body as Joel stares wolfishly at your exposed chest.

Your eyes, on the other hand, fly straight to his cock. It tents in his boxer, his bulge a bit intimidating, and you feel yourself beginning to salivate.

He chuckles above you, hand coming to rest placatingly on your waist.

“Think you can take it, baby?”

In truth, you're not entirely sure. But you're sure as hell not about to waste any more time wondering.

“Please just – fuck me.”

He shifts his weight. Props your ankle atop his back and rests with his elbows on either side of you. And then he grinds against you, the heft of his hard cock rubbing against your bare pussy.

“Patience,” he tuts. “We got nothin’ but time.”

Joel Miller!!

Writers, can we pretty pretty please for the luv of god start writing Joel Miller accurately!! Like no, THE JOEL MILLER (rip big daddy) would not lock you up in some abandoned shed in some forest and force you to call him daddy and share you with his brother.... I love all you writers with all my heart but you guys can be icky sometimes!

Bring back soft!dom Joel Miller who tucks you into bed and tells you stories to fall asleep!

Love u all!!