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We looked inside some of the posts by millerskitty and here's what we found interesting.
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PEDRO PASCAL as MAYOR TED GARCIA EDDINGTON 2025 | dir. Ari Aster
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PEDRO PASCAL as Harry Castillo MATERIALISTS 2025 | dir. Celine Song
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Braidin’
Pairing: daddy!joel x f!reader
summary: You suck daddy’s cock while he braids your hair.
Warnings: smut, praise kink, daddy kink, cock sucking, throat fucking, hair pulling, a little bit of sex and a tiny bit of degradation.
pov: 3rd person
WC: 1.3k
The soft crackle of the fire filled the cozy cabin, gentle orange light casting flickering shadows across your face as you sat cross-legged in front of it, trying to braid your hair. Again.
Every time you finished and stood up to check in the mirror, it looked frizzy at the top or lopsided
-and you'd have to start over. By the fourth time, your patience was wearing thin. You were seconds from letting out a frustrated huff when Joel's voice, low and warm, rumbled behind you.
"C'mere, baby girl."
He was on the couch, legs spread comfortably, a book tossed aside beside him-long forgotten.
He hadn't been able to concentrate, too focused on you. And who could blame him? You were sitting in front of the fire in one of his flannels, barely buttoned, and a pair of panties that didn't do much to hide those pretty little holes he loved so much.
You chewed your bottom lip, trying not to smile.
Eventually, you gave in and stood, crossing to him before settling onto one of his thick thighs, back to him so he could reach your hair.
"Thanks, Daddy," you murmured wiggling against him to get comfortable.
One of his arms wrapped around your middle, hand splaying across your belly, giving you a slow squeeze. "So fuckin' cute when you're annoyed, baby. Sittin' over there in your little panties tryin' so hard to braid this pretty hair."
Both of his hands came up now, gently undoing the uneven plait you'd managed. His voice dropped an octave. "Got me thinkin' 'bout that pussy."
Your cheeks flushed at his vulgarity-words you should be used to by now-but your stomach still fluttered every time. That ache he always drew out of you, just from his voice, was already pulsing between your legs.
You turned to glance at him over your shoulder, then shifted so you were straddling his thigh, facing him. "
"...Really?"
One of his big hands cupped your cheek, thumb tracing along your cheekbone, then dragging across your bottom lip.
"Yeah, really, doll." His thumb tugged your lip down gently, exposing your mouth. "Got me thinkin' 'bout this mouth too."
You looked between his eyes, then leaned forward and took his thumb into your mouth, curling your tongue around it like you would his cock-slow and deliberate. Joel's jaw ticked, a low groan escaping as his eyes darkened.
He pulled his thumb out with a wet pop.
"Go on, baby," he rasped. "Get on your knees and suck this cock."
You slid off his thigh and dropped in front of him, the fire's heat warming your back, the scent of leather, cedar, and a hint of whiskey enveloping you in him. Your fingers moved automatically, undoing his belt, tugging his sweats and boxers down enough to free him.
He was already hard. Thick, flushed red at the tip, leaking precum like he was embarrassed about how bad he wanted you. No matter how many times you'd seen it, his cock still made your mouth water.
You wrapped a hand around the base, stroking slowly from root to tip, smearing those sticky beads of arousal over his head. Joel groaned deep and low, his hand drifting down to your hair.
And then-while you wrapped your lips around his cock—he started braiding your fucking hair.
That alone almost made you come.
You whimpered around him, eager and needy, taking him deeper, bobbing your head and stroking the base with your hand, desperate to please.
"Yeah... that's right. Dirty fuckin' girl," he groaned. "Gettin' off on Daddy's cock, huh?"
You moaned in response, throat tightening around him. Tears welled in your eyes from the stretch, but you didn't stop-couldn't stop. Joel's fingers wove through your hair as he worked a braid, tugging gently, and your hips rocked against the floor, chasing friction for your aching clit.
Joel chuckled, chest vibrating with it. "Fuckin' hell, baby. Mouth so warm... little throat squeezin' me so right... while I do your hair?
Fuuuck."
You pulled off with a gasp, still stroking him then ducked down to lick and suck at his heavy balls.
He dropped the hair tie he'd been holding, a strangled sound escaping his throat.
His fingers gripped your braid tight, wrapping it around his fist. His head dropped back against the couch cushion as a soft, broken whimper slipped from him.
"Yeah... yeah, suck my balls just like that, honey."
You moaned around them, drool spilling from the corners of your lips as you nuzzled deeper, hand still stroking his slick, twitching cock. He was close-you could feel it in the way he throbbed and pulsed in your palm.
The firelight caught along his flushed stomach, the trail of hair from his navel to his cock gleaming with sweat. You looked up—and nearly whined. His head was tipped back, chest heaving, jaw clenched tight, fist still gripping your braid like it was keeping him grounded.
"Baby... that mouth," he muttered. "So fuckin' pretty like that. Hair all done up, cock fillin' you up. You want Daddy to fuck that throat, baby?
"You pulled back, lips slick panting, your voice hoarse
"Please. Wanna be your good girl."
Joel leaned forward, both hands cradling your face. His thumbs brushed your damp cheeks.
"You are, baby. Always so fuckin' good for me.
Eager little thing, huh?"
You nodded frantically.
He sat back again, legs spread wide, cock flushed and ready. "Then open up, angel. Let Daddy fuck that pretty throat."
You crawled closer, heart pounding, tongue out, eyes wide.
Joel guided the head of his cock across your tongue, groaning at the sight.
"Gonna go deep now," he murmured. "You breathe through that nose, yeah? Be brave for Daddy."
You whimpered as he pushed in-inch by inch, slow and deliberate. Your jaw ached, your eyes watered, your throat tightening. "Always a stretch, huh?" he breathed. "But we get there, don't we?"
You couldn't nod. Could barely breathe. Just moaned around him as he started rocking gently into your mouth, guiding your pace with slow tugs on your braid.
Your hands clung to his thighs, nails digging into the soft cotton of his sweats. He was everywhere
-filling you, owning you. The stretch, the weight, the heat.
"Ffffuck," Joel growled. "Good girl. So tight. Just like that."
He was muttering now, half to himself. "My girl.
My sweet fuckin' angel. Mouth made for me.
Can't even finish your hair 'cause I'm too fuckin' gone."
You whimpered around him, arousal pooling between your thighs as he thrust a little deeper.
Your vision blurred.
He hissed, pulling out just far enough to let you breathe. "Up. Off your knees," he panted, gripping your hair. "Need to see this pussy."
He hauled you up and onto his lap, rough hands yanking the flannel off your body. Your panties were shoved aside, and before you could process anything, he was pushing into your dripping cunt.
The stretch made your head fall back.
His hands cupped your face as you whimpered.
"I know, baby girl. I know it's a lot. But Daddy needed his girl's pussy."
"S'full... D-Daddy... oh-"
"I know, baby. Gotta get you nice and messy." He kissed your cheek, his voice like gravel. "Look at that stretch. Openin' up so good for me. Let me just fuck this hole, honey."
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Okay, this is 18+ content.
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one thing I will always be a fan of is a wet Miller
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PEDRO PASCAL Celine Song's 'Materialists' | Trailer 3
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PEDRO PASCAL ‘THE FANTASTIC FOUR: FIRST STEPS’ photocall in Mexico City
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joel isn’t good at saying “i love you”, but he shows it in ways that words can't express.
he cuts you fresh flowers in the morning from his garden, arranging them in a beige vase on the kitchen table so you can see them when you wake up.
he cleans and laces up your boots for your patrols, making sure they are well kept since you can't care less about maintaining them.
he braids your hair on the porch while you sit in his lap, smiling at the end at how beautiful you look, planting a soft kiss on your temple.
he builds and carves you anything you want even after only mentioning it once, like your rustic vanity and a small deer sculpture that sits on your nightstand.
he gently wipes your tears when you cry, bringing you into his chest as his hand runs down your back, soothing you with his soft voice and warm touch.
he takes off his jacket and drapes it over your body when he notices you’re shivering in the middle of winter.
he calls out of patrol and stays home by your side during your time of the month, knowing you need some extra love and support despite telling him you can take care of yourself.
he gazes at you and listens attentively as you let out all of your problems and worries, his presence providing you comfort when you can't seem to get out of your own head.
he holds you in his big arms until you fall asleep, lightly grazing your soft skin with his fingers. he kisses your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo. upon deafened ears, his voice vulnerable and tender, he musters up the courage to murmur those three little words.
“i love you”
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