JEFFREY DEAN MORGAN as JD Richter Extant | Season 2, Episode 1 - Change Scenario

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JEFFREY DEAN MORGAN as JD Richter Extant | Season 2, Episode 1 - Change Scenario

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Daily dose of Joel Miller
shirtless version is on my bsky
JEFFREY DEAN MORGAN as Jason Crouse The Good Wife: S07E04 - Taxed
Negan Smith in The Walking Dead 10x06 Bonds
Contractor Roleplay with Joel
Joel Masterlist Updates Account
You and Joel keep indulging in roleplaying, this time he’s a contractor, and your kitchen isn’t the only thing getting drilled and rebuilt.
warning/tags: smut, minors DNI contractor x housewife roleplay, unprotected piv, fingering, overstimulation, established relationship, creampies, multiple orgasms, infidelity (not in real life, just as part of the the roleplay fantasy)

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Steady Hands
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
a joel miller/f! reader fanfic!
summary: when you contact a contacting company for help fixing up your father’s run-down apartment, the miller brothers show up.
warnings! age gap relationship. two consenting adults! 20s & 50s. implied abuse. mentions of abuse. mentions of alcohol and substance abuse. daddy issues. joel calls the reader ‘kid’ occasionally. implied plus size reader.
author’s note! this is the first joel fic i’ve ever written & posted. lemme know if you enjoyed it & wanna see more! ALSO, this is just part 1 ! i plan to continue it w/ a part 2 soon !
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
“I’ll have the repairs done in a few weeks. Tommy’ll come by later with the quote.”
The contractor’s voice was rough, lingering in the cold air between you and your father. You’d been standing by the staircase for an hour now, observing, watching him try his best to appear sober.
He wasn’t.
You could smell the lingering scent of liquor on your father’s breath, the same cheap, cinnamon whiskey that he hid behind the milk jug in the fridge, hoping that you wouldn’t notice it when you visited. You always did.
Your father nodded his head, leaning up to steady himself back against the wall. You watched as he attempted to maintain the conversation, and you weren’t entirely sure if the contractor was aware of your father’s drunken state. He was stone-faced, brows furrowed, fingers clutching the handle of his toolbox – but he’d been like that since he’d arrived. He’d observed the wrecked apartment in silence, not overly thrilled to interact, though it wasn’t like you’d really tried.
You’d kept to yourself for the most part, lingering by the staircase, or watching through one of the open windows. You were only here for a few hours, just to pay the contractors and ensure that they did the right work on your father’s run-down apartment. It wasn’t like you could trust him to manage things himself. He could barely stand at this point, still reeling from reaching the bottom of the bottle just a few minutes before Miller had shown up.
The apartment was in a state of near ruin. Floorboards creaked, wires askew, holes in nearly every wall, damaged from the impact of glass bottles. After your mother left him, he’d let himself go to shit, and his living space was no exception.
Now, it was your responsibility to keep him in check.
It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried. You’d begged him countless times to seek help, to visit a recovery center and detox. His love for liquor far outweighed his love for you, though that was nothing new. It had been this way for as long as you could remember. You still weren’t entirely sure why you stuck around.
“You can bill me,” you mumbled, after a moment of quiet contemplation. It was the first time you’d really spoken to the contractor since he’d arrived. “I’m the one paying for the services.”
His gaze flickered to you as you spoke, brows furrowed as he took you in. You watched his jaw tighten, and for a moment, you wondered if you’d irritated him.
“Alright,” he rasped, after a moment. “If you’ll follow me outside, miss, I’ll get your info.”
You nodded your head, taking a step forward as you ignored your father’s drunken, meaningless ‘thank you’ behind you. You kept quiet, letting the screen door slam shut as you followed the contractor out into the winter air, the cold nipping at your cheeks.
As you followed him, your gaze lingered on the back of his shirt. It was a deep brown, adorned with beige lettering, which read: “Miller Bros. Contracting: Joel & Tommy Miller.”
For a moment, you felt bold – bolder than you typically were.
“Are you Tommy or Joel?” You asked, hands shoved into the pockets of your slightly oversized coat.
The contractor stopped in his tracks, glancing over his shoulder at you. The grey in his dark hair was far more visible in the natural light, the short waves a bit disheveled from work.
“‘Scuse me?” He rasped, raising a brow at you.
“Which one are you?” You asked him again, simply. The contractor paused, a look of amusement sweeping over his tired features.
“Joel,” he replied, turning his shoulders to fully face you. “Tommy’s my brother.”
You nodded your head, unsure what to say now that he was looking directly at you.
Joel examined you for a moment, his tense features softening for a moment. A look of amusement flashed in his dark eyes, though it quickly shifted into rough concern as he contemplated your situation.
“You’re really payin’ for this?” He asked. “It ain’t gonna be cheap. Your daddy’s house is a wreck.”
“Yeah,” you replied, straightening your posture. “Yeah, I’m paying for it. Dad doesn’t have the money to, anyway.”
Joel studied you for a moment, his shoulders tensing. “I don’t know what it’s gonna cost exactly,” he muttered. “But you’re lookin’ at a bill of about $700.”
“Seven-hundred?” You echoed, eyes wide. Your heart sank at the number, your fingers flexing subconsciously in the pockets of your coat. That number was more than you had in your savings and cash combined right now. For a moment, you swore you felt dizzy.
Joel stood before you, a bit awkwardly, as he watched your cheeks flush with frustration. He could see the way your hands had clenched into fists, beneath the fabric of your coat.
“I– I’m in college, Joel – or, Mr. Miller,” you corrected yourself quickly. “Seriously. I’m about to graduate. I don’t have that kind of money right now. I can’t even afford to move out.”
He was silent as he watched you, and you refused to look up at him. If you saw a pair of judgmental eyes staring back at you, you were certain the tears welling up in your eyes would spill over. You couldn’t risk it.
“No little girl should be payin’ her daddy’s bills,” Joel replied, drawing your attention back to him. “Ain’t right.”
You sniffled, your hands trembling. “I’m a grown woman. I have a job. I can pay it eventually, I just need some time–”
“No,” Joel mumbled, with a wave of his hand. “Doesn’t matter how much money you have. Doesn’t change the fact that it’s not right.”
Unsure what to say, you stood before him, silent. You watched as he dug into the pocket of his jeans, digging out a little notepad. Plucking his pen from his shirt pocket, he began to scribble on the small slip of paper.
“Here,” he mumbled. “When Tommy comes by, you give him this. Tell him Joel said he was gonna take care of it.”
Your eyes went wide, mouth agape. “Seriously?” You glanced down at the little piece of paper in his hand, finding yourself unable to reach out and take it. You weren’t used to handouts like this, and you were entirely unsure how to accept the help.
“Go on,” Joel spoke, his voice softer now, like you were a wounded, stray animal. “You can take it.”
With hesitant movement, you reached out, fingers trembling as they wrapped around the small slip of paper. He gave a nod, as if reassuring you, watching as you slid it into your coat pocket.
“Good,” Joel replied. “I’ll send Tommy by later, then.”
You watched as he turned towards his truck, taking large, heavy steps as the wind nipped at the exposed skin of his arms. For a moment, you were utterly dumbfounded, unable to speak. Before he could get too far away from you, you finally opened your mouth.
“Um,” you mumbled. “Thank you!” You called after him, though it was already too late. He’d already turned the key in the ignition, the truck roaring to life as it started up.
With that, he was off, leaving you with an unfamiliar warmth in your chest.
The next few days passed quickly, and you found yourself frequently thinking about Joel. On your way to class, you found yourself listening to a few of the songs you’d found on the old CDs in his truck. When you weren’t listening to music that reminded you of him, you were thinking about him — the old scars that covered his forearms, from years of fights and handiwork, to his dark eyes that seemed to soften as he looked at you, whether he realized it or not.
His brother – Tommy, you remembered – had dropped by later that evening to hand over the bill, just as expected.
You recalled the words he’d said, brows furrowed in confusion as he read over the small slip of paper Joel had requested you give to him.
“You’re kiddin’ me,” he’d mumbled. “Doesn’t sound like Joel at all. He must’ve really liked you, kid.” Tommy had mused, glancing up from the paper.
“I don’t think it’s that,” you’d replied, your voice soft. “I barely spoke to him. I think he just… pitied me.” You’d mumbled, under your breath.
“Pity or not, you got a helluva deal out of us,” Tommy had shrugged, folding up the paper to slip it back into his pocket. “One of us will get in contact with you soon about the repairs. You live here?”
“Yeah. I mean, kinda. Do I need to be here?” You’d replied.
“We just like to work in the presence of whoever’s payin’,” he’d mumbled. “Keeps things clean. Nobody can come back and say we didn’t actually do our job.”
“Makes sense,” you’d replied, your voice a bit softer. “I’ll… I’ll make sure I’m here, then.”
That was what brought you here, sitting on the steps, as Joel replaced a few loose boards on the back deck. You watched as he worked, wiping the sweat from his forehead. His muscles strained against his shoulders and back, fingers clutching the tool in his hand — one you were entirely unfamiliar with.
“Do you like what you do?” You asked, after a long period of watching him in silence.
Joel glanced up at you, raising a brow.
“I reckon,” he mumbled roughly, leaning back to take a break from tightening screws for a moment. “You’re a strange little lady, y’know that?”
“Strange?” You tilted your head to the side, curiously.
“Yeah,” he replied, roughly. “Strange.”
“How so?” You asked, leaning forward to rest your cheek in your palm.
You’d heard it before, the word “strange” used to describe you. You were quiet, often kept to yourself, and rarely spoke unless it was expected of you. It was a defense mechanism you’d developed over the years, though in the presence of Joel, you began to feel a little more bold. You weren’t frightened of him like you were with most men his age.
In fact, you’d grown to enjoy pestering him while he worked.
Joel hummed, leaning back to wipe the sweat from his brow. “Just never met anyone like ya, kid,” he mused, his brows furrowing as he examined the wooden boards of the staircase, still a bit loose. “Dammit. That screw should’a been enough to tighten that.”
You leaned over then, watching as Joel leaned back to stretch. His muscles strained against the fabric of his t-shirt – not too toned, just enough to showcase his strength. Being an older man who earned his muscles through hard labor rather than weight-lifting, his strength was clear, but his muscles were never very defined.
Blinking a few times, you sat up straighter.
“Do I have to sit here and watch you the entire time?” You asked, recalling Tommy’s statement. “Tommy said—”
“No. And I’d prefer it if you didn’t,” he mumbled, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Your lil eyes on me are makin’ me nervous.”
You managed a snort of amusement. “Little? Y’know, I’m twenty-one years old,” you replied, swinging your legs as you sat atop the railing of the staircase. “I’m a grown woman.”
“Maybe,” he half-grinned. “But I’m an old man, sweetheart. You’re young to me.”
“I don’t think you’re that old,” you offered, tilting your head to the side. “I think you’re just… experienced.”
Joel shook his head. “Experienced, huh?” He mused. “Wow. Really flattering me now, darlin’.” He replied, voice dripping with sarcasm and amusement.
“I wouldn’t lie.” You replied, glancing up to meet his gaze. His brows twitched, as if forcing himself not to look down at you.
“Uh-huh,” Joel replied, trying to keep himself in check. His chest was growing tight, cheeks slightly flushed beneath the scars and lines on his face. “Make yourself useful and hand me that wrench, will ya?”
“Mhhm.” You mumbled, reaching over to dig the long, golden wrench out of his toolbox, slightly rusted with age. You slid it over, before hopping up onto the railing of the staircase, glancing down at him with interest.
As days passed, you began to look forward to Joel’s visits. He’d arrive at the house methodically, taking advantage of every moment your father left for work. He swore it was for efficiency, but you began to question if he simply just wanted to be alone with you, without the interruption of your father’s presence.
One evening, as dark grey clouds rolled in the sky overhead, Joel was finishing up a few last-minute renovations on your father’s back deck. You emerged from the back door, pitcher in hand as the wind played at your hair.
“Tea?” You offered, your voice warm.
Joel leaned up, raising a brow.
“Sweet?” He grunted, hands on his hips.
“Of course it’s sweet,” you smiled, hopping down from the back porch to approach him. “Who do you think I am?”
“Atta girl,” he mumbled, reaching out gratefully as you poured him a glass. “Thanks, doll.”
“Doll?” You echoed, glancing up to meet his gaze.
“Yeah. Pretty like a doll. Might as well call ya one.” Joel mumbled, taking a sip of the sweet tea in his glass. It was cold, soothing the back of his parched throat as he gulped it down.
“You think I’m pretty?” You asked, a bit stunned by the confession. He gave you a sideways glance, as if he hadn’t expected you to be so uncertain.
“Surprised by that?” Joel asked, raising a brow. “Figured you heard that often enough for it to be no big deal.”
Your heart stuttered forward in your chest. You’d heard it a few times, of course, but never in the way that Joel had said it. He spoke like you were a prized possession, something beautiful and rare.
Before you could come up with a response, he spoke again. “You make damn good tea.”
“Do I?” You replied, perking up a bit. Praise from Joel was the greatest feeling in the world.
“Mhm,” Joel hummed, his gaze absentmindedly traveling to the heap of wood lying on the grass beside him. “Might have to hire you to stand in my kitchen and make tea for me all day.”
You leaned forward then, resting your hands on the edge of the railing. “You wouldn’t have to pay me. I’d do it for free.” You hummed, almost proudly. Your reaction drew a deep, rough chuckle from Joel.
As his gaze trailed up the backside of your father’s house – still incredibly worn-down and neglected – his expression sobered. There had been a few thoughts on his mind lately that troubled him, particularly involving you and your father’s relationship. Something about it didn’t sit right with him.
“Hey, kid,” he mumbled, his gaze shifting back towards you after a moment. “Can I ask you somethin’?”
You nodded your head, silently giving Joel your full attention.
“Your… father,” He mumbled, saying the word hesitantly. “When he leaves during the day, where the hell is he goin’?”
“Work,” you replied, absentmindedly fidgeting with a loose thread on your dress. “He works at a factory in the city. I’m not really sure what he does there.”
“And what happens when he gets home?” Joel pressed, his voice a bit lower. “You’ve never let me stick around long enough to find out.”
“You know what happens,” you replied sharply, your voice a bit harsher than intended. “He starts drinking the moment he gets home. It’s just not something I really want you to deal with. I only stick around to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself.”
“That’s not your job. Your old man should be able to fend for himself,” Joel replied, brows furrowed. It clearly troubled him. “And I don’t think you’re bein’ completely honest with me, doll.”
His concern, although appreciated, was sending waves of anxiety through you. It was as if your brain was on fire, unable to process the feeling of being truly cared for. You found yourself snapping before you could stop yourself.
“Goddamn, Joel, can you back off?” You hissed, before you could stop it. “I’m a grown woman. I can handle things myself.”
“Can you?” Joel replied immediately, his tone stern. He took a step towards you, his gaze narrowing as he took you in. “What the hell is that on your arm?”
You froze, immediately straightening your posture. Your eyes went wide as you realized that Joel had seen it, the large, round bruise on your forearm, angry and purple. The bruise was still fresh, and Joel could tell. You reflexively tugged your sleeve down.
Before you could think of an excuse, Joel was already speaking again.
“Don’t lie to me,” he prompted. “Show me your arm.”
“Like hell,” you muttered, your hand resting over your arm protectively. “I don’t need you doting on me. I’m fine.”
Joel took another step towards you. He looked angry, but his anger clearly wasn’t directed at you. You knew that Joel would never hurt you, even if he was angry. It was a feeling you weren’t used to, not having to be defensive.
Looking into Joel’s eyes, dark with concern and anger, you began to feel like a young girl again. Your chest grew tight, and you suddenly found that you’d do anything to make Joel proud of you again. You didn’t want to be on the receiving end of his disappointed gaze.
Glancing down, you finally gave in.
“Sorry,” you mumbled, your voice gentle now. “Sorry, Joel. I didn’t mean to snap…”
“Hey,” he rasped, his calloused fingers finding your chin, gently guiding your gaze up to look at him. “Listen to me, doll. I don’t want you hangin’ around this house anymore when I’m not here. I know it ain’t really my place to give you orders like that, but… I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt by your old man.” He mumbled, his voice firm, though it still held a gentleness that was reserved for you.
“What am I supposed to do when you’re not here, then? I sleep here every night. I’m not exactly in any position to get my own place…” You trailed off, your head reeling. If you had the ability, you would’ve moved out long ago.
Joel’s expression shifted, brows furrowed.
“Then you call me,” he muttered. “Next time your old man acts up, you call me, and I’ll be here in minutes. Understand me?”
You straightened your posture then. No man had ever spoken to you in such a way, requesting obedience but also truly concerned for you. You found yourself not entirely hating it, despite your earlier protests that you didn’t need it.
“I understand.” You mumbled, under your breath.
“Atta girl,” Joel replied, digging into the pocket of his brown jacket. He fished out a small slip of paper, tugging the pen from behind his ear to begin scribbling on it. “You have my number, don’t ya?”
“What is this?” You asked, curiously accepting the little slip of paper as it was handed to you.
“My home address,” Joel explained, tucking the pen back behind his ear. “You show up there if I don’t answer, you hear me? If you need me and I’m not there, you can sneak in the window.”
Your eyes went wide. There was something genuine in the way he looked at you, with concern and no hint of malice. He was extending a lifeline to you when you needed it, and though you were unsure how to accept it, you attempted to do your best.
“Okay,” you rasped, finally, pocketing the small note. “Thank you.”
An unfamiliar warmth spread through your chest, a feeling you’d never felt before. Receiving such care from a man Joel’s age, who wanted to help you rather than hurt you, was utterly foreign to you.
As he packed his tools and hauled them into his truck that night, you found yourself watching from the window, gaze fixed on the way his shirt strained against his muscles as he slammed the door of the truck bed shut. Your heart raced, pounding desperately in your chest, as if trying to break its way out to get to him.
You mentally cursed yourself for the pang of longing you felt as you watched his truck sputter down the driveway.
Joel trimming his beard 👀✨
Joel Miller is pure, uncut sexuality
Top dilf of the year…well ,we know why.
peepaw joel
tlou is literally all i think about these days

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Fav gif #103
BLAST FROM THE PAST
ex husband!Joel Miller x fem!reader
Summary: to your dismay you run into your hot ex husband at a supermarket parking lot and at first glance it seems that Joel just wants to chat but as you two are sharing memories of the past life, you realize that talking isn’t the only thing on his mind.
Tw: +18, mdni, smut, a touch of angst but we don’t dwell on it, non outbreak au, Joel’s a sexy asshole, mention of Joel x reader x Tommy, mention of mfm, reader is pissed at Joel, implied infidelity, hate fucking, one use of ‘daddy’, public but not caught, f!oral, pussy slapping (1), cum eating, piv, degradation kink, praise kink, swearing.
Word count: 2,8k
A/n: I saw this post by @cupofzo last week, got feral/inspired and wrote this story. Kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing and helping me when I got stuck💋 Pedro edits in the mb by @/romina’s blog on Pinterest. Dividers by @strangergraphics 💞
MASTERLIST
Cute enough to squeeze and squish and pinch, enough to coddle and dote on, to take a bite of
ATTENTION ALL TUMBLR READERS AND WRITERS!!! There is a scam going around ,where you would recieve a message from someone saying they falsely reported you for something. They'll tell you to appeal it through discord because it'll be easier. ITS A SCAM. DO NOT BELIEVE THEM!! I was too stupid to catch on and I was hacked. I just gained access to my account again after a week or so. Please spread the word and be careful. I don't want anyone else to go through this. I've reached out to people that they messaged already but I wanted to warn any and everyone else. This should be a safe place for us to express ourselves and our work. SO PLEASE SPREAD THE WORD AND LET EVERYONE KNOW!!! Thank you for taking the time to read this.
"Get 'nough sleep while I'm workin', baby. I'll make it up to you 'soon as I get back." 🛠️

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a Joel Miller in fisherman sweater to go with the Arthur one 🪵🍁
He looks adorable 🥹
he is just too fucking beautiful he would be sooooo sick of me oh my GOD (credit: augvstus on pinterest)