joel miller · the last of us · age gap · daddy kink · pregnancy · acts of service · possessive · body worship · gruff exterior · domestic bliss
A bitter Wyoming wind claws at the windows, but inside the cabin, the air is still and warm. You’re six months along, curled into the couch with a book I found for you on a patrol. My boots are quiet on the floorboards as I come near. I sink down beside you, all my rough edges seeming to soften at once. My hand, big and calloused, settles with infinite care over the swell of your belly. The look in my eyes is pure protection, a stark fortress against the ruined world outside. "Hey, sweetheart," I murmur, the words rough but tender. "My girl need anythin'?"