#joel miller x reader age gap
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The Beginning of Us (1/5)
Pairing: 36!Joel Miller x 23!Fem!Reader
Fandom: The Last of Us (could be applied to the video game or TV show)
Summary: You get new neighbours. One of them, a man very much your senior, might just be the most perfect man you have ever met. Where will this take you?
Warnings: Age gap, cursing, eventual smut
Authorâs Note: Hi. Have you heard of @dbnightingale24â? If you havenât, I highly recommend checking out her page, especially if youâre into Chris Evans and the characters that he plays. She is an amazing individual, inside and out. I would not be posting this story without her much-needed help and support. She even came up with the title! Thank you so much. Happy reading!
(1/2/3/4/5)
*******
What got your attention was a loud and gruff âShit!â and the sound of a box tumbling down the staircase in your apartment building.
You got off your couch and went to your door to see what was the matter. Opening it, you saw a girl disappearing into the apartment across the hall from yours, and another girl, slightly older than the one before, following her into the same space.
âHowdy stranger! Weâre your new neighbours!â The girl still within your sight let you know. She then followed in the other girlâs footsteps in disappearing behind the door in front of you.
There was a man at the end of the hall, you noticed. He had his eyes peering down the staircase, but then he turned his vision toward you. âHello,â he greeted and started to approach you with the two boxes he was carrying, âMy nameâs Tommy. Sorry if we were disturbing you.â
âNot at all,â you assured. âAre you and your daughters moving in?â
Tommy smiled as he shook his head. âOh, no. I couldnât handle those two 24/7. Those are my brotherâs girls, Sarah and Ellie. Joel?â He called down the stairs.
Leaning into the hallway, you spotted a man one flight down, putting books into a cardboard box. Seeing that Tommy already had his hands full, you went down to help the aforementioned âJoel.â
Apparently, he didnât notice you until you were knelt on the floor with him, helping him gather the books. You looked up the same time as he did, and the two of you locked eyes for the first time.
Joel had the deepest brown eyes you had ever seen in your life.
You gave him a shy smile, which Joel returned quickly, and you asked, âYou didnât go down with these books, did you?â
He mustâve said no, but you didnât hear him because you were taking notice of the books. They were all war related, more specifically World War II. You couldnât help but chuckle at the material.
âWhat?â he wondered with a smirk.
You shook your head. âNothing. Itâs just very on brand for a father like you to have books like these, no offence.â
Joel smiled, âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
âI told you; nothing,â you teased.
âRightâŚâ he chuckled, and the two of you finished gathering the books.
Moving everything in took the rest of the day, and it was night by the time everything was out of the U-Haul and into the Millersâ apartment.
âFinally!â Ellie celebrated, âLetâs have more pizza!â
Tommy groaned, âSeriously? You already had it for breakfast today.â
âCome on, Iâm hungry too!â Sarah complained, and the next thing you knew, Joel was ordering over the phone.
Tommy (reluctantly) offered to pick it up, and you said youâd stay back with Joel to start on the organisation of things.
âYou really donât have to stay,â Joel told you while Tommy and the girls were on their way out.
âReally, no offence Joel, but this place is a hazardous zone. Iâm going to stay until there is at least a feasible way to get from room to room.â You were glancing around the space until you looked back at Joel. He was looking at you with a soft gaze that honestly made your heart flutter.
Joel softly let you know, âHelp like yoursâŚitâs extremely hard to come by these days.â
âYou get it from Tommy, right?â you wondered.
He shrugged, âI doâŚReally, I do, but itâs not the same. Heâs my younger brother, yâknow? Half the time, it feels like Iâm helping him way more than heâs helping me.â
âThat makes sense,â you nodded, then took a chance and pressed on, â...Is it alright if I ask what happened to the girlsâ mother?â
Joel nodded, âItâs alright. It all happened some time agoâŚSarahâs mother leftâŚfive years ago nowâŚ? And Ellieâs mother, wellâŚshe died in childbirth.â
âOh my godâŚJoel, I canât imagine what that mustâve been like.â
âItâs alright. It happened a long time ago.â Surprisingly, Joel chuckled. He was looking right at you.
You grew self-conscious. âWhat?â
âYou didnât say, âIâm sorry,ââ he pointed out.
âOh. Oh my god. Iâm sorââ you tried correcting.
Joel cut you off, however. âNo, itâs fine. I promise. Itâs justâŚwhenever I tell someone about the girlsâ mothers, they take pity on me and say sorry. It got a little annoying after a while.â
âI would think so,â you relayed softly.
Not wanting an awkward silence after that conversation, you turned on your phone. â...Now, I donât know about you, but I canât keep doing this work without any music. There we go.â You turned on your playlist and put your phone down on the entertainment centre.
Joel seemed surprised. â80s? Seriously?â
âYes. Do you have a problem with that, Mr. Miller?â
He rolled his eyes. âDonât call me that. It makes me feel old.â
You chuckled. âOkay, Joel it is.â
Tommy and the girls came back with the pizza sooner than you expected. Sarah and Ellie were whispering and giggling about something that you could tell Tommy had been over with for a while. The girls shared another look when you sat next to Joel on the couch, and Tommy just rolled his eyes at them. You tried not to think about what that could mean.
The five of you watched a movie as you ate dinner, and Tommy was quick to leave after it was over. It almost felt too quick.
The girls didnât waste time either.
âIâm exhausted!â Sarah yawned.
Ellie joined in, âMe too. I think weâre gonna head to bed, Dad. That alright with you?â
Joel was just as taken aback as you were. âYeah. I guess soââ
âOkay. Goodnight!â
âThanks for coming over, Y/n!â
Sarah and Ellie almost ran to their newly-set-up rooms.
âWhat was that all about?â you wondered out loud to Joel.
He shook his head. âI donât know. But itâs not all the time that Tommy is let in on their antics.â
You chuckled, âWell, anyway, I think thatâs my cue to go home. Lord knows itâs late enough.â
Joel followed you out into the hallway. âI really do appreciate your help, Y/n.â
You did your best to copy him. âIt really was no problem Mist--Joel,â you corrected yourself.
Joel had been leaning against his door frame, but he took a step forward, which all but closed the space between the two of you.
The movement caused you to silently gasp, and you were so shocked that you barely got a hold of yourself in time for when Joel started leaning down--
âJoel, Iâm 20,â you got out just before his lips wouldâve touched yours.
Of course, Joel backed up. âOh. Oh my god. Y/n, I am so sorry for putting you in that positionââ
âYou didnât put me in any position. I shouldâve told you earlierââ
âWhen? I didnât ask. Shit, I didnât ask. I just assumed âcause youâre living aloneââ
âI know. I know. You didnât do anything wrong, Joel. Okay?â You reached out and put a hand on his arm. Then, you realised what you were doing, and took your hand away. âI-Iâm going to bed now. Goodnight, Joel.â
âGoodnight.â
The last thing you saw were his shame-filled eyes as you closed your door.
(1/2/3/4/5)
*******
Authorâs Note: Thank you for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it. I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time. If you would like to read more, check out my masterlist. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you! <3 <3 <3
#joel miller#sarah miller#ellie williams#joel miller x reader#joel miller x reader age gap#the beginning of us#troy baker#ashley johnson#pedro pascal#bella ramsey#nico parker#companion jones
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october's end.
dbf!joel miller x f!reader summary: a filthy halloween night with your dad's best friend, joel miller. [you get him to briefly wear a ghostface mask]. [enjoy that! i did]. warnings: 18+ mdni. age gap. alcohol. au. begging. cream pie. dirty talk. dom!joel. fingering. jealous!joel. language. masked!joel. no outbreak. no use of 'y/n'. praising. smut. use of 'good girl'. use of 'slut'. unprotected piv. word count: [about] 3,800. a/n: hi! debut, written for @mermaidgirl30's halloween writing challenge. cover by me, divider by @saradika. @saradika-graphics.
Everythingâs bigger in Texas, including Halloween. Your childhood neighborhood is locally televised each Octoberâs end, due to every homeâs enthusiastic participation. Thereâs an annual stoppage of traffic for the singular eveningâs festivities, permitting only costumed bodies to roam the gated communityâs residential roads.Â
Branches draped in gauzy webs. Yards engulfed in artificial fog. A beloved holiday tradition, predating the tailend of the seventies, when Dad and Joel were elementary aged and wielding pillowcases of candies. Now, theyâre fifty-somethings, bemoaning mutual back pain and cursing pesky lawn decorations.
âHere,â Joel gruffs, while individually sliding Dad two Reeseâs pumpkins, from across the kitchenâs counter. âProtein break. âS four grams.â
Dad swipes them both up, before confirming that statement by thumbing oneâs wrapper, âThat ainât bad.â
Youâre quietly laughing at their supposed refueling, while stooping behind the fridgeâs door and scanning the moistened shelves. There. A seasonal beer, from your favorite brewery in Austin. Itâs comfortably predictable, returning home for Halloween; From Dad purchasing your favorite autumnal ales, to Joel Millerâs ruggedness.
You properly right yourself. Then, using your waist, nudge the applianceâs door shut, âDad, whereâs your bottle opener?â
Dadâs phone abruptly drones, reverberating against granite and interrupting your question; He grimaces at the callerâs illuminated identity.
You guess, âGhostface?â
Dad laughs, before emphasizing, âWorse. My neediest client.â He abandons his barstool, continuing, âActinâ like buildinâ up in Waco makes âer Joanna Gaines.â Dad apologetically nods toward you, âJoel. Will âya?â
Joelâs scruffy chin tips upwards, directing you, âCâmere.â
Somethingâs brewing, once Dad vacates the vicinity. Your forced proximity to Joel is newly palpable; Tonightâs different. Youâre obedient, in approaching him. Joel doesnât stop staring. The bottleâs neck is being strangled, under your dominant hand. You canât completely ward off an image of taking him into your palm.
Your minimal passage to his barstool seemed slow-motioned, almost. Youâre not sure. Timeâs just apparently lengthier, under Joelâs browned gaze.
 Joel grunts, fingering his carabiner of keys, attempting to sift out his bottle opener keychain, âYou playinâ Michael Meyers, âgain? âRound one night, only?â
You amusedly scoff, âKeepinâ track?â
Joel shrugs, âEight days, in eight years.â
Youâre genuinely surprised that Joelâs noted your absence. Maybe, Dad revealed that specific number, correlating to your sparse appearances in Austin; Well, it couldâve been that Dad mentioned to Joel about how since your high schoolâs graduation, youâve only managed to visit home yearly. Thatâs just basic math. Right?
You stammer, âUh huh. âS my favorite holiday.â
Joel hums, before abruptly wrapping his calloused palm around the entirety of your hand and the beer bottleâs width, âHm. âN that your favorite beer?â
Youâre momentarily silent, muted by Joelâs warmth. A sizable hand, roughened from decades of hard labor. The tips of his delectably thick fingers begin tightening at your wrist, securing his hold as heâs standing himself up.
Even fully seated, Joelâs intimidating in size. Him standing toe-to-toe with you? Thatâs another story. His construction boots are weathered and worn; They would be comically large, in comparison to your measly-sized sneakers, but nothingâs funny about Joel Millerâs body mere inches from yours.
You reply by mustering an eager nod; And, whether thatâs in response to Joelâs prior question pertaining your liking of the beer, or merely an approval of his nearness to you? You havenât decided.
Joel rasps, âAnythinâ else?â Heâs pulling your combined hands downward, to his waist. The carabinerâs remained attached to his beltâs loop, âThat âya favor?â
Youâre struggling to think of something witty to retort. Because, the frayed seam of Joelâs zipper is right there. Heâs deftly notching the bottleâs cap inside of the openerâs teeth; The beer crisply hisses, releasing any contained pressure.
Joel whispers, âWhat, darlinâ? Bat got your tongue?â
You defeatedly laugh, âSomethinâ like that.â
He grins, carefully releasing you, âTaste it.â
You harshly gulp, âSâSorry? Oh, right. TâThe beer.âÂ
Joel agrees, âThatâs right.â Then, darkly teases, âYâknow, that pretty mind âa yours is boundinâ for the gutter.â
He crosses his arms against his broad chest, the canvas fabric of his Carhartt jacket drawing taut. Joelâs now cocking his head, sending his gaze along the pathway from the glass vessel that youâre feebly holding, to the lower lip that youâre inadvertently biting; Daring you.
Youâre feignedly bold, âMeet âya there.â
You drink, even if itâs primarily to keep yourself from further stuttering. At first, itâs an adequate enough distraction; The alcoholâs frigid in temperature, soothing to the high-strung tendons of your throat, from the inside-out. Then, youâre curiously drawn to Joelâs own gulping throat, and that transient composure of yours is gone.
Joelâs devotedly watching you, his glare heady and sensual. His Adamâs apple jerks, moving atop the clenched muscles and corded veins of his neck. Youâre somewhat tipping back, gathering your final mouthful, for now; Youâve drained three-fourths of it, by the time that youâve halted your sipping.
Then, Joelâs thumb darts out, before smoothing against your glistening mouth. He drawls, âGot it lookinâ real good. Letâs see.â
Youâre only narrowly audible, âOh? Joel.âÂ
Joelâs tongue, deliciously large and scrubbed pink, strokes his finger. He groans, âMm. Ainât sure. Need ât sample it from the source.â
You inwardly whimper, âYeah?â
Youâre foolishly tempted to extend him the ambered bottle itself, because surely Joel Miller, your dadâs best friend, would identify that as the âsourceâ. Not your parted, wanting lips. Like Joelâs read your hesitant mind, he reassuringly pins your hands behind your back, easily dismissing the beer; A singular hand of his own, dwarfing the pair of your wrists.
Joelâs ghosting your lips, âYeah.â
For good measure, Joel lightly moans, sucking his dampened digit. Humming around the pumpkin spiced suds, lapping up any residual taste from his finger. Arms restrained, spine straightened; Your chestâs rising urgently.
Joelâs own chest, delicately hairy below his threadbare t-shirt, is an odd inch away. A desperate heatâs begun permeating your lower abdomen; Achingly unfurling, taking up residency in your cunt.
Of course, itâs then that Dadâs barrelling over, having withdrawn from his nearby office, âSorry âbout that, kid. Get âer open?â
Youâre coughing out, âYâYep.â Then, âThanks, Joel.â
Dropping your wrists, Joel winks, âOh. âM pleasure.â
Your incriminating closeness to Joel goes unrecognized by Dad; Seeing as, Joelâs wide shoulders completely obscure you from view.
Dad sighs, âGee, there ainât no escapinâ this shiplap.â
Joel immediately laughs, casually reclaiming his prior barstool. The jarring segue from Joelâs flirting with you, to his joking with Dad, is absolutely disorientating. Youâre fidgeting, repeatedly and silently tapping your foot. You canât do Joel here; Youâll settle for doing last-minute Halloween preparations.
You blurt, âGoinâ to start organizinâ the candy. âS all in the garage, Dad?â
Dad assuredly nods, âSure is. âCept these.â He chuckles, gathering the forgotten wrappers from his earlier âprotein breakâ with Joel.
You remind him, âDonât forget to refill the fog tanks.â
Dad, who seemingly had forgotten, regretfully snaps his fingers, âWhat would I do without âya?â Heâs bragging to Joel, âLook at âer.â
Joel agreeably nods. Eyeing you, âGood girl.â
Because, Dad and Joel are career contractors, who are simultaneously life-long friends and next-door neighbors, itâs only right that theyâve done an elaborate, joint Halloween for three decades; Locally dubbed the âConstruction Frightâ.
A (questionably) age-appropriate spread of horror, featuring thrifted tools that bludgeon and dismember an assortment of plastic skeletons. Hard hats, faux-bloodied and stabbed with rusted nails. Construction tape, riddled in spiderwebs.
A half-dozen, battered wheelbarrows, brimming with chocolate candies; Three brown ones, carrying Hersheyâs, Rolo, and Tootsie Roll. Three orange ones, containing every imaginable variant of Reeseâs.Â
 Youâve already been working for nearly an hour; Arranging the color-coordinated barrows of candy. Youâre jamming the recycling binâs lid shut, overtop the cardboard and plastic wrappings of king-sized bars, when the entry doorâs opened.
Dadâs entering the garage, âSunâs settinâ soon, kid. âOughta get dressed.â He lazily squeezes you in an impromptu side-hug, âThanks, for helpinâ.â
You breathily sigh, âMhm. Oh, I need ât light the Jack-O-Lanterns.â
Joel appears, insisting, âGo on, darlinâ. Iâll get âem sweatinâ for âya.â
Youâre thinking, âThatâs ridiculously slutty of him to sayâ, when Joel continues, this time addressing Dad, âHey. Phoneâs ringinâ over âgain.â
Dad sighs, âGot ât be kiddinâ me.â Then, grumbles, âSure hopinâ itâs Ghostface.â He grins, lightly pinching your elbow.
You giggle, âCâmon. She canât be that bad.â
Dad shrugs, smiling before swiftly jogging up the garageâs concrete steps; When Dadâs fully retreated inside, and the doorâs naturally swung shut, Joel doesnât waste any time pinning your body against it.
Joel whispers, âBet âya find that this pussyâs wet âf me, when youâre undressinâ it.â His jeaned, muscular thighâs nudging your legs ajar.
You airily groan, âPâPlease. Fuckinâ kiss me.â
Joel grins, wedging his ample thighâs sturdy surface against your beating cunt. He kisses you; Joel Miller fuckinâ kisses you. Heâs grabbing your face, thumbing your cheekbones. His lengthy fingers, scraping your skull.
His tongueâs deeply delving, eagerly exploring your mouthâs every crevasse. You canât breathe efficiently or think coherently. Everythingâs Joel. His graying beard, raking your chin; A woodsy scent, like that of the hardware storeâs lumber aisles, exuding from his clothing.
Youâre moaning, âNgh.â Then, ripping at the silvery hair thatâs curling against the nape of his sun-freckled neck, âMore.â
Joelâs grunting, âFuck. Need ât stop.â He canât stop, and sucks your bottom lip, once more. Then, âHâHear âim? Heâs gaininâ on us.â
Sure enough, Dadâs approaching. Itâs damn-near impossible to quit rutting along Joelâs denimed, upper leg. Youâre whining, âNeed âya.â
Joelâs panting, âTâTonight, darlinâ.â He arousingly whispers, âAll night. When the porch lightâs out, sneak over.â Then, darker and deeper, âRepeat it.â
You repeat, âTonight. When the porch lightâs out, sneak over.â
Youâre admittedly distracted, during the eveningâs trick-or-treating segment. You understand that nothingâs allowed to appear awry around Dad, but Joelâs playing casual too well. You shouldnât overthink, but itâs torturous; That heâs apparently unaffected. Drinking with Dad and Tommy. Never really staring at you.
Joelâs (conveniently) costumed as himself every Halloween, but himself during working hours; A leathered tool belt, cinching his tender waist. A backwards Filson hat, tamping his unkempt curls. His dirtiest âwhiteâ t-shirt; The necklineâs absurdly tattered and torn, an array of holes displaying his bodyâs coarse hair.
Midlandâs country cover of âWicked Gameâ is emitting from neighboring speakers. You canât resist likening the songâs drumming pattern to your own heartâs pulsating rhythm; Yearning for Joelâs attention. Then, Dadâs whistling for your attention.
Dadâs pointing, âLook, kid. Your âol boyfriend, Nick. Heâs fuckinâ Ghostface.â Dad humorously roars, standing, âSee âim? HâHold on.â
Youâre avidly protesting, but Dadâs already approaching Nick, whoâs not wearing, but holding his hooded mask; Fingers cupping the elongated, rubbery chin. Thereâs nothing inherently wrong about him; He (morally) should be your holiday hook-up, not your dadâs best friend. Itâs too bad.
Joel snipes, âDick?��
You tut, âItâs Nick.â
Joelâs feigning understanding, âOh, Prick.â
Youâre unsure whatâs initiated this potent sexual tension, but itâs consumed your every thought this Halloween; While, Joelâs every word is loaded. His irritated sarcasmâs gunned your way. Any bickeringâs uncommon, for the pair of you. Youâre hoping that Tommyâs too busy proffering candy to notice.
Dadâs returned, towing Nick, âWerenât we just talkinâ âbout him, kid? So funny.â Dad, and his dorky penchant for inside-jokes.
Nick cluelessly smiles, âHi, you.â
You politely reply, âHi, yourself.â
Nickâs extending his hand, summoning you from your designated seat, âGot ât see this costume.â Then, heâs declaring you, âStunning.â
Youâre incredulously laughing, âTheyâre bloodied overalls.â
Nick grins, persisting, âLove âem. Also, this apronâs awesome.â Heâs thumbing your accessoryâs front, tracing the logo, âCarhartt girl, huh?â
Youâre aiming to get under Joelâs skin with, âScream girl, too.â You inspect Nickâs black robe, feeling his armâs draping sleeve.
Oh, Joel Millerâs jealous. Heâs rolling his earthy-toned eyes; Aggressively peeling his beerâs damp label, while instigating Dad, âHearinâ this?â
Dadâs indifferent, shrugging. Heâs always approved of Nick for you; Heâs Texan, and plays Minor League Baseball. Thatâll do it.
Nickâs pleading, âLetâs please walk âround, sweep the neighborhood?â
Joel snarks, âHell. Reckon heâs recruitinâ for Neighborhood Watch?â
Nickâs nervously smiling, having not heard Joelâs dig, but surely hearing Dad and Tommyâs abrupt snickering.
You kindly respond, âLetâs. Love seeinâ the decorations.â
Itâs nine-thirty. Your streetâs grown habitually sparse; Toddlers, having resigned to stringent bedtimes. Teens, having retreated to erupting parties.
You decipher Joelâs looming silhouette; His rocking chairâs creaking, upon the dimmed porchâs planks. A gleaming tumbler of (presumably) whiskey is resting against his crossed leg, the glass winking at you.
Joelâs dragging his index fingerâs edge against his groomed mustache, thumbing his angrily tightened jaw. He rasps, âAinât walk âya home?âÂ
Youâre ascending his porchâs tread, âDidnât need that. Told âim so.â Then, untying your apronâs chaotic knot, âUncross your leg, Joel.â
Joelâs pleasingly pliant; He warns, âThatâs the only order that Iâm takinâ tonight.â His lapâs deliciously spreading, âGet ât drawinâ the blinds.â
The anticipationâs wetting you. Youâre immediately scampering along the porchâs perimeter, rolling down every privacy blind; Joelâs patiently swigging his auburn liquor. You whimper, âAâAnythinâ else?â
Joelâs rolling the wick of his adjacent kerosene lantern; Thrusting his opened lap, scrounging his Zippo lighter from an anterior pant pocket. His handâs arousingly veined, while flicking the lighterâs flint wheel.
He belatedly replies, âDrop your apron. Undo your overalls.â
Youâve dropped the apron, and somethingâs spilling out from the largest pocket; Joelâs deeply exhaling, âExplain that.â
The lampâs emitting faint light, fire illuminating his hardening expression. Heâs so scarily sexy. Youâre inching nearer, but Joel hoists his palm, stopping you.
You embarrassedly gulp, âNâNickâs mask. Asked me ât hold it. He never wore it.â
Joelâs impatient, waving, âAnd?â
Youâre tentatively unhooking your denimed straps, gently uttering, âWâWould âya? Wear it?â
Joelâs mildly surprised, âOh?â Deciding, âBring it here. On your knees.â
You instantly kneel, before gathering up the discarded disguise using your teeth. Youâre crawling to Joel, crossing the porchâs dully-lit surface. The bib upon your overalls undone; The garmentâs buckling loops clinking.
Joel involuntarily moans, âNgh. Dirty fuckinâ girl.â His index fingerâs pumping from his balled up fist, signaling you.
Your pussyâs thumping, because of his commanding, curling digit. Youâre itching to suck it. You need anything of Joelâs inside of you.
Youâve gradually reached Joel; Youâre being caged in-between his lengthy legs. Joel forcibly pinches your face, removing the mask from your biteâs grasp. The itemâs resultantly spat, against his abutted groin.
Heâs astonished at the filthy sight, rustling, âHow âbout that.â Youâre resting on your haunches, while Joel praises, âGood girl.â
Joelâs abruptly leaning downward, before hungrily lifting your bodyâs entirety along his own. Heâs immediately kissing you, sinking against the rocking chairâs curved spine; The porchâs cedar ground sighs, creakily duetting with Joelâs groans.
Youâre practically siphoning the remnant whiskey from his tongueâs cushioned pad; Your mouthâs rabidly sucking, while your waistâs desperately grinding.
Joelâs bypassing your denimed, disoriented trousers; His palmâs greedily grasping your backâs arched column. His remaining arm, ladling your ass. Then, Joelâs effortlessly hauling your goosebumped figure upward; The rocking chairâs momentum being an assistant. The maskâs wedged in-between your upright bodies.
Joel breathes, âTâThe lamp. Hang tight.â Youâre licking Joelâs partially bearded throat; Heâs briefly hunching, responsibly lowering the wick, consequently extinguishing the flame. Your quartet of limbs, wrapping his flexing torso.
Youâre whispering, âYouâre so big and strong, Joel.â
He amusedly sighs, âYeah?â Promising, âAinât seen nothinâ.â
Then, Joelâs roughly stamping your body against the front doorâs exterior; His bulge swelling, pinning your pussy. The entry knobâs blindly twisted. Joelâs heavy-footed steps are reverberated, crunching his homeâs metallic threshold.
First, Joel carelessly clears his entry wayâs waist-heighted table. Juggling you, while his tanned armâs sweeping everything off; A ceramic, coffee-stained mug of loose changeâs completely shattered. Second, Joel harshly kicks his anterior door shut; Thereâs an impressive boot print, left behind.
Joelâs panting, âTell me ât stop?â
Youâre begging, âKâKeep goinâ.â
He hums, âHm. Need it, darlinâ?â Joelâs hurriedly planting you upon the tableâs cleared crest, kissing your nodding throat. Agreeing, âYeah. You do.â
Itâs dizzyingly hot; Joel gruffly ripping off your mussed overalls, easily tugging off your slip-on sneakers. Heâs lobbing them across the room, away from the mess of coins and shards. Youâre noticing the Ghostface mask, under his unmoving bicep.
Joelâs noticing you, âThis what âya want?â Heâs hesitantly thumbing the maskâs gaping jaw. âAinât scared?â
You quietly say, âLike ât be scared.â Youâre reaching upward, prying off his hat; His hairâs deliciously gray and tousled. âHere.â
Joelâs flinging his accessory away. Then, handing you the hooded, horror mask, âGo âhead.â He warns, âWearinâ it âtill youâre cominâ. Understand?â
Youâre stroking his untidy hair, readying him, âWonât be long.â You murmur, âSâSoppinâ for âya.â
Joelâs grunting, âFuckâs sake.â Kissing you, in-between threatening, âFilthy. âOughta edge âya. Talkinâ like that.â
He impatiently rings your wrists; Youâre positioning the mask properly overhead. The draping fabricâs hitting Joelâs colossal shoulders.Â
Your pulseâs hammering, âOh.â
The maskâs milky-colored expression, surveying you. Stark, against the setting of Joelâs unlighted home. His index fingerâs impulsively traveling your body; Dragging over your bottom lipâs dampened flesh. Then, carnally downard, riding your throat. Fingering your jugularâs delicate divet. Hooking your undershirtâs airy collar.
Joelâs taunting, âHeartâs racinâ.â
Youâre anguishly rutting against his console tableâs lacquered top. You need to be touched. You beg, âJâJoel. Oh, Joel.â
Joelâs eerily tilting his head, âPussyâs racinâ like that, too?â Whispering, âAinât it?â
Youâre deliriously horny, âYes.â
Heâs humming, âHm. Shirtâs got ât go, first.â His unoccupied handâs rummaging his hind pocket, while, âReckon that my knifeâll work?â
Youâre pleading, âCâCut it off.â
Then, Joelâs brandishing his utility knife. The bladeâs expertly flicked outward. He urges, âTry ât hold still.â
Joel Millerâs carving your fucking shirt; His bladeâs blunt edge skimming your sternum. Heâs effortlessly halved it, forging an impromptu vest. Heâs instantaneously shoving the garment overtop your rigid shoulders.
The knifeâs frigid handle brushes your tapered nipple; Joelâs awaiting permission, hovering your underwearâs waistline. Youâre nodding, kneading his large shoulders. His fingerâs hitching the material, before his bladeâs cutting it.
Snipping the remaining side, Joel grunts, âCunt need stuffinâ?â Heâs pocketing your saturated underwear and his retracted knife, âI know itâs wet ânough to take two fingers.â
Youâve been fantasizing about Joel entering you all Halloween. And, finally; He does. Heâs groaning, âSâSwallowinâ both of âem. âJus like that?â
Your angling headâs hitting the paneled wall. Youâre obscenely squelching around his battering digits. You belatedly respond, âJoelJoelJoelJoel.â
Joelâs roughened wristâs repeatedly rubbing your beating clit. Youâre clenching speechlessly around him, innately meeting every re-entry. Your spineâs warming; Your stomachâs taut.
Your arousalâs watering his driving hand; His palmâs pooling. Joelâs incessantly steady. Praising, âCominâ up. Doinâ good.â
Youâre gasping, âThere. Oh, right there.â
The instant that youâre coming, Joelâs yanking off his hindering mask. His beardâs patchy and sweaty. He grins, âMan âa my word.â
Then, Joelâs amused mouthâs pounding upon your own; Heâs desperately inhaling your breaking moans. Licking your teethâs underside.Â
Youâre abundantly squirting, as Joelâs uncorking your cunt. Your spotting visionâs correcting leisurely. Youâre languidly sighing; Breathing deeply.
Heâs genuinely insane for drinking you from his cupped palm. Then, Joelâs mouthing his soggy fingers; Hitting knuckle. Youâre blurting, âNeed ât fuck.â
Joelâs arching his aging brow; Rasping, âAsk nicely.â Then, heâs towing your body overtop his broad shoulder. Spanking you, âGreedy fuckinâ girl.â
Youâre nakedly suspended, Joelâs bicep rippling below your ass. Heâs entering his living room; Carefully placing you across his cognac-colored sectional. Youâre propping upon the chaiseâs leathered cushions. You whine, âPlease, Joel.â
Joelâs tutting, âBetterân that.âÂ
You supply, âPretty please?â
Heâs gradually moving nearer; His denim-clad shins, butting the couchâs edge. Joelâs unhurriedly thumbing his beltâs loop, painfully prolonging his removing it. Youâre wetting and writhing against his furnitureâs fabric.
Joelâs unimpressed, âCâmon.â
Shedding his accessory; Working his zipper. His acting armâs so freckled, tanned, veined. Joelâs yanking his t-shirt overhead, before subsequently revealing an appetizing, softened tummy. His happy trailâs graying and wiry.
Youâre begging, âJoel. Please.â
Heâs winking, âGood ânough.â
Every soundâs tantalizing; Joelâs boots and pants, thumping across the carpet. His bare, bulky thighâs abruptly rubbing against your naked pussy; Then, Joelâs mirroring your bodyâs horizontal position. Mounting you.
Your arousalâs drenching his underwearâs front; His lengthâs largely tenting the humid material, âBegginâ like that. Fuckinâ slut.â
Youâre involuntarily panting, when Joelâs finally and fully undressed. His cockâs deliciously girthy. The tipâs engorged, reddened and seeping; Erecting far beyond his bellyâs button.
Youâre whimpering, âPleasePleasePlease.â
Joel grins, âCuntâs quiverinâ. Feelinâ that?â
You desperately nod, âNeed you ât feel it.â
Joelâs immediately pistoning his fleshy waist; His cockâs knocking your cervixâs wall. His rough thrustingâs fastly inching your bodies upward, until your headâs rearing the sofaâs supple tailend.
He whispers, âWarm ânough?â
You gasp, âCâCockâs perfect.â
Joelâs inaudibly responding; Ramming your hand, palming your pelvis. Youâre feeling his cock, below your abdomenâs exterior. Heâs interlocking your fingers; His own swallowing yours; Pressing. Youâre practically tracing his bulbous, twitching tip.
Heâs praising, âTakinâ me well.â
Joelâs bottoming-out, pounding steadily; His bloated, weighty balls welting your taint. Your clitâs puffing, from his pubic boneâs rhythmic route. Dementedly fucking you. Youâre moaning, âAh. FâFuck.â
He murmurs, âCuntâs gulpinâ me.â Joelâs hooking your kneeâs underside, before lugging it overtop his broad shoulderâs slope, âNeedy fuckinâ hole.â
Youâre stammering, âNgh. MâMm. RightThereRightThere.â
Then, Joelâs angling deeper, differently; Laying his bodyâs robust weight against your languid, vertical leg. Your footâs achingly surpassing your head. His chest hairâs graying and saturated; Scraping you.
Your pussyâs overwhelmingly spasming. Joelâs messily tonguing your nippleâs peak; His mustacheâs prickling the sensitive skin. Youâre tugging at his hairâs curling strands, âJâJoel. Close.â
Joelâs echoing your prior words, âMeet âya there.â
Youâre shockingly surprised, that Joelâs remembered the momentary retort; Your faux-bold response and pumpkin spiced alcohol. Thatâs it. Youâre blindly coming. His cockâs densely brimming your contracting hole; Hammering you.
Your pussyâs pornographically sloshing. Joel whimpers, âAââAtta girl. Drenchinâ it.â Then, âCominâ inside. âM snipped. Yeah?â
Youâre immediately kissing him. Palming his beardâs rugged stubble. Sucking his tongueâs pink pores; Tasting your arousalâs heady flavoring.
His climaxing moanâs roaring down your throat; Cum rapidly spurting, coating your cunt. Youâre rubbing his rolling eyeâs crinkled grooves. His foreheadâs tanned and wrinkled. Joelâs especially gorgeous, while cumming hard.
Youâre pouring, when Joelâs unplugging you. Heâs breathlessly cursing, âFuckinâ hot.â Standing, âGettinâ towels. Need anythinâ else? Water?â
Youâre beginning to respond, when Joelâs unexpectedly bending; Kissing you. You smile, tapping your bottom lip, âWhatâs that for?â
Joelâs embarrassedly pointing, toward the nearby microwaveâs blinking clock. He explains, âTen thirty-one on October thirty-first. âDunno. Good luck? Make âa wish or somethinâ.â
Youâre actually dumbfounded, âOh? Youâre absurdly cute.â
Joel frowns, âAinât allowed ât call me that. âSpecially while leakinâ my seed.â Heâs nakedly turning, preparing to walk, âWater?â
Youâre pulling Joelâs hand, âWait. Want ât hear your wish.â
He gulps, âThat⌠Youâll be visitinâ home on Thanksgivinâ.â
#pedro pascal#joel miller#dbf!joel#joel x reader#joel miller x reader#smut#joel tlou#pedro pascal smut#joel miller smut#dbf!joel miller#joel miller age gap#joel miller one shot#joel miller imagine#joel miller x fem!reader#Jamie's Halloween Writing Challenge
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Warning || Men Like Me
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Fandom: The Last of Us Pairing: Joel Miller x Virgin!Reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: girth age gap, virgin!reader, eventual loss of virginity (not in this chapter), gratuitous descriptions of Joel Miller's body, somewhat creepy!Joel, fetishization of youth, dom!Joel, breaking and entering, playboy magazine, objectification, fingering, sexual discoveries. Word count: 6.2k Summary: Joel's warnings about what men like him would do to girls like you only makes you want him more. A/N: Back in the depths of hell again, you guys. Now this isn't the most depraved thing I've written by any means but it's up there. Come say hi in my chat or inbox, I'd love to talk. Keep a look out for follow up parts and pleeeeease give me comments. I am very very desperate.
Joel Miller was a bad man. That much he knew.Â
Even as he fixed taps and renovated houses that were falling apart, he could see the blood on his hands. The very hands that packed lunches for Ellie snapped necks, pistol whipped men, stole from a starving child so he could feed his grown brother. But there were lows even he didnât stoop down to.Â
Not that he didnât have the opportunity. Men always did. And in this world, opportunities had only tripled. Even the Boston QZ, as strict as it was, had an underground brothel. He knew Tess to frequent it and never asked questions. Sometimes she needed to bury her face between a good pair of thighs and wrap her lips around a pretty pussy, and this wasnât something he could give her. There was a lot he couldnât give her.
Being in Jackson shouldâve civilized him. It did in many ways. Heâd reverted to the southern gentleman with table manners. âYes, Maâamâ spilled out of his lips effortlessly when he spoke to women. He held the door for anyone walking in after him. He even went to Churchâ sorry, the multifaith house of worshipâto help renovate.Â
That was where his troubles began.Â
There was no point in him going where people prayed. Being back in civilization did not erase his decades of disbelief in a cruel God who would take his baby and keep him on this accursed Earth. But he did because he was back to being a contractor and Tommy asked him to go fix up the pews instead of him. He didnât have much time, being a new dad and all.
He was on his knees checking out the rotting wood and evaluating how much wood heâd need for building new ones when he was confronted by a pair of legs and a sweet voice. Yours.Â
âLemonade, Mister Miller?âÂ
He looked up, his eyes traveling up your legs, bare until he got to your knees where the hem of your flowery skirt sat. Pure, unblemished knees, never taken a fall, didnât fucking creak, and never knelt before anyone but God. You looked down sweetly, eyes wide and innocent like a newborn cow. Everyone had a kind of darkness about them in this world. Everyone except the kids who didnât know a world outside the insular walls of Jackson. And you, it turned out, even though you werenât a kid.
He wiped his sweat off with the greasy rag he carried and looked up at you once again. You had a pitcher and an empty glass in your hands. A sweet smile on your lips and hair falling down your shoulders and reaching your breasts. A yellow ribbon sat in a bow where your neckline dipped between your breasts, adding to the innocence of your look.
âYes please, Maâam. Thank you,â he said, giving you a nod. Your pretty plush lips curled up, a giggle escaping them as you poured him a glass of lemonade.Â
His hand brushed against yours as he accepted the glass, his hand too large to curl around it without making contact with you. You giggled again before retracting your hand and occupying it with adjusting your hair.Â
âIâm younger than you, you know? Donât have to call me Maâam.âÂ
âJust being polite. Maâam.â He took the glass to his lips, mindful to take only a small sip instead of downing it in desperation. Another adjustment to make when food was no longer a scarcity. Sweet, sour, and salty danced on his tongue before it glided down his throat. Just a sip refreshed him. And the sight of a nice girl didnât hurt the cause either.Â
Itâd been so long since he had a nice refreshing glass of lemonade. Summers meant worse infestations of infected, not the barbecues, lemonades, and swimming of past. When surviving each hour was under threat, small luxuries like this became out of reach of even oneâs dreams.
âWell, guess I should call you Sir then,â you said, leaning against the wall. You held the pitcher up to your chest and the tails of the ribbon on your chest dipped into it, the soft shiny yellow turning dark, tainted.
His mouth watered and fucking hell, it wasnât the lemonade you just gave him. He took a sip of the drink and licked his lips, imagining how youâd taste if he wrapped his large hand around your neck and pressed his chapped lips to your plush ones. Better yet, if he held your legs apart and devoured you other pair of lips until you were leaking down his mouth. Would you call him Sir then? His cock twitched in his jeans as he pictured you bent over one of these pews, your skirt pushed up and his hand in your hair as he slid his cock in your hole.Â
Jesus fucking Christ! What the fuck was wrong with him?Â
âMade the lemonade yourself?â He asked, groaning as he managed to get himself back up on his feet. His knees creaked like the floorboards of the houses he renovated, but ultimately supported him as he stood. He towered over you, making you appear smaller, more fragile.Â
âDepends. Do you like it?âÂ
âItâs wonderful, of course. Hot summer day like thisâŚI really needed it,â he said, raising the glass up a little before taking another sip.Â
âWell then yes, I did make it.â
He chuckled, feeling himself pulled in by your easy charisma. It was nice to have normal conversations like this once again. No agenda, no need for establishing himself as someone who wouldnât hesitate to beat someone up if even mildly threatened. It was justâŚnormal.Â
âItâs very sweet, Maâam. Like you I assume,â he added, mentally dusting off the part of his brain where he stored skills for conversing with pretty girls.
You laughed, holding your free hand up to your mouth to cover your lips that widened and revealed your teeth.Â
âIs that the southern charm that I hear our townspeople talk about?âÂ
âThey talk about my charm? I didnât hear.âÂ
âOh yes, they do⌠Joel Miller, charming pants off of everyone in town.â
âPants? Well thatâs disappointing. I was hoping Iâd charmed some pretty skirts off.âÂ
âLots of experience with that, Mister Miller?â you asked, sliding your hand over the soft fabric of the skirt of your dress. Such delicate fabric. He could fist the hem and give it one tug and itâd rip right off.
âMore ân what you got for sure,â he said, loath to hint at how infrequent his encounters had become in the recent past. Tess died, he did a cross country hike with an annoying kid, he needed to maintain a good reputation in his new town. One buried after the other. Enough to leave a man with nothing but his fist and his imagination. He would kill for a fucking Playboy magazine. Literally. Heâd killed for less.
âWhat do you know about how experienced I am?âÂ
âBeen experiencing longer than youâve been alive, Maâam.âÂ
âOh well. Nothing I canât learn.âÂ
He laughed nervously and stuck his hand in his jeans pocket. Surely you couldnât be flirting⌠Why would a young thing like this flirt with him? He was in his late fifties looking like mid sixties and you were⌠He didnât know. Young.
âIf you could teach me, Mister Miller. Give a girl some experience?â
âIâm sure you can find someone else.âÂ
âOh. Not your type, am I?â you asked, and he deluded himself thinking you sounded disappointed. No chance.Â
He didnât have a type. Long time since he thought of frivolous shit like that. But you shouldnât be his type.Â
âThereâs much more eligible men in town is what Iâm saying,â he said, suddenly hesitant to lie. Lying had never been an issue for him. The right thing was to lie, say you werenât his type so he wouldnât cross lines. Itâd been a long time since he did the right thing.
âIâll be the decider of that,â you said with a shrug of your shoulder before taking the empty glass from him. âHave a good rest of the work day, Mister Miller.â
Later that night, he wrapped his fist around his cock in the privacy of his room. His mind flooded with images of you spread out for him, sweet lips and a sweeter pussy milking him. He couldnât even recall the last time he was with a woman. It was Tess, of course. Sometime before she got thrown in FEDRA jail for the last time. Too fucking long ago.
Surely it was only because itâd been a long time since he got his dick wet. Heâd never, in his entire life, pictured a woman so much younger spreading her legs for him. Sucking his cock. Crying out his name. How old was she even? Not past mid twenties for sure.
It was wrong, he knew, as white hot spend spurted out of his cock and covered his hand. A sour tang took over his mouth as the fog of unadulterated lust cleared up to reveal the ugliness in his head. He shuddered, feeling like something had crawled under his flesh. He hadnât felt guilt like this in so long.Â
Wrong, wrong, wrong.Â
You werenât even as old as his kid would be had she been alive.Â
Heâd known men like that back in the day. Grays in their hair and skin like old leather, but pretty young things old enough to be their daughter hanging off their arm. It was obvious that none of them kept these girls around for love or for their personality. It was always sex and the feeling of self-importance when a sweet young thing paid attention to balding heads, beer bellies and limp dicks that needed a blue pill to get up.Â
Fucking disgusting.Â
He began avoiding you whenever you happened to be in the same space. At the house of worship, the town clinic where you interned, trading days when people exchanged what they had for what they wanted. His eyes never met yours and he always quickly looked away when they stared too long at your uhâŚfeminine featuresâ pretty legs, cute ass, round tits. Where the fuck did you get sundresses anyway? Who kept that shit around in this world?Â
He didnât know that when he avoided you, you took note of him. When he took glances of your features, you memorized his for later in the night when you buried your head in your pillow and pushed your fingers inside your pussy to simulate what it must be like to be with a man.Â
He was older. That much you knew from his grey hair, sun-damaged skin, and gait that exuded bone-deep weariness. You knew Tommy had just turned fifty. Hard to miss occasions that meant a free slice of cake from the canteen. Joel had to be in his mid-fifties at the very least. At first glance, he wasnât what youâd consider handsome. There were younger men in town. Fit and muscular. Didnât groan and scrunch up their faces when they got up. Didnât have lines on their foreheads. No bags under their eyes.Â
Yet there was something about Joel that was more entrancing.Â
After your first meeting when you offered him lemonade, you made sure to visit under the guise of worship. You didnât know much about religion and were conflicted about embracing a god. The only faith you had rested in your medical instruments and the medicines the townâs chemist concocted. But it was a nice place to meet people, to check on healing patients.
The visits were worth it for a glimpse of Joelâs large hands wrapped around his carpentry tools. When the sun was the hottest, he sometimes stripped down to his tank top, giving you a show better than any film played in the community theater. His broad back looked masculine enough in his flannel shirts. But you didnât know desire like the first time you saw him in a white tank, showing off his muscular arms as sweat dripped down his tan skin.
When you pleasured yourself in your room, it took time, imagination, your fingers, and a lot of effort to make slick pool in your pussy. That day, all it took was the sight of Joel Miller working. You sat with your thighs pressed together, rubbing them against each other in the most inconspicuous little movements.Â
Could it be blasphemy if the God who was supposedly orchestrating everything made this man take his shirt off in front of you?
It made no fucking sense. Joel was old. He looked like he woke up on the wrong side of the bed every goddamn day. He had been chewed up and spat out by whatever the fuck was outside Jackson these days. Hardened expressions, graying patchy beard, hands calloused from carpentry and decades of using weaponry. Features that only indicated a long life lived, not attractiveness.
You were supposed to be attracted to the soft, sweet ones like the guys in the worn out copies of romance stories that the previous inhabitant of your house stashed in the basement. Even his little brother would be a more reasonable target for your lust. Younger, taller, softer, head full of dark, silky hair with few grays. But you wanted Joel Miller with his rough graying beard that would prick your skin were you to cup his cheek like the women on the novel covers.Â
Something about him just screamed Man. Something that none of the other guys in town had. There was nothing wrong with any of the other Jackson men, but none of them made you want to take the plunge and lose your virginity. It wasnât the lack of offers, per se. Youâd gotten looks from many eligible Jackson bachelors. You had drinks with a few of them. Dinner with fewer and shared a kiss with more than one. Alright, two. But anything beyond that had you trembling in anxiety.Â
It wasnât anything precious to you, virginity. But youâd waited so long. Focused so long only on survival and then helping to build this town and now training to become a doctor. Whatever passed for doctor these days. With all your life dedicated to everything but your love life, you simply had no experience. What if you messed up and they laughed? You knew anatomy, but that didnât translate to practical stuff. What if you couldnât make them feel good? Youâd have to see the guy all the damn time in the small town. There would be no escaping the awkwardness.
Sure it was counterintuitive to keep pushing away sexual encounters because you had no experience. But you didnât know what else to do. You were too old already to not have done anything. But each day that passed with you rejecting perfectly nice men meant you were getting even older for your first time.Â
You didnât know where Joel fit into your need for exploring your sexuality, but it didnât hurt to stare. God knew everyone else in Jackson did.Â
So you stared. Work with his carpentry tools. Riding on horseback into Jackson after patrol. Helping with the fucking sheep. Walking around with Tommy. Carrying his nephew around town. It should be inappropriate to be fantasizing about a man when he was doing something as innocent as carrying a baby. But seeing his large hand cradling the babyâs little head made you want to scream into your pillow and kick your legs.Â
âYou alright, sweetheart?âÂ
Your heart fluttered and you let out a nervous laugh at being caught. You smoothed out the wrinkles on your clothes just to make it look like you were alright. Unfortunately you were wearing a pair of fucking jeans. You didnât even want to know how awkward you looked.Â
ââm alright, Mister Miller.âÂ
âJoelâs fine,â he said, rocking his nephew in his arms.
Oh fuck, his fucking arms!
âOh I donât know,â you said, fidgeting with a belt loop on your jeans. âWouldnât want to be impolite addressing you by your first name like that.â
He smiled, recalling your conversation from the house of worship when you called him Sir and had him fucking himself in the shower to the memory. âAh. âcause Iâm an old man,â he said, more as a reminder to himself to fucking behave.Â
âYouâre not that oldâŚâ you trailed, looking him over in a way that set fire to every inch of skin that you laid eyes on.
Behave, Miller. Youâre out with your nephew.Â
âThat so?â he asked, eyebrow raised.Â
âMhmm. You donât look a day over seventy.âÂ
He snorted, making Miles stir in his arms just a little. That stung a little. It shouldnât. Your estimation of his age, whether you were serious or not, was reminder enough that he was too old to be lusting after you.
âThanks. Iâm actually eighty-two.âÂ
You giggled your pretty little giggle, lowering your gaze to the ground and looking back up only when it had turned into a wide grin. âHow old are you actually?â
âOld. Fifty six.âÂ
âFifty-six isnât that oldâŚâ you trailed as you brought a hand up to his bicep. Joel gulped, praying to the non-existent God that you would stop before praying to the same God that you would keep your hand right there. God answered his second prayer. You squeezed, licked your lips and looked up at him with your doe eyes.
âChecking if the hardware is still working, Doctor?âÂ
âIâm not a doctor yet.âÂ
âWhen do you become one then? Ainât no Harvard handing out medical degrees in this town.â
âHoward?â you asked, squinting at him. Ah, of course you didnât know. Harvard didnât mean the same thing to you. Now it was just like every other building in Boston. Run over by infected. These ones were just the nerdy kind with glasses on.
âThat was a thing, too. But I said Harvard. They were big universities back then.â
âAh. Did you go there?â You asked, with no malice or bite. Oh, bless your heart. No one expected a dummy like him to have gone to university at all, much less Harvard. No one in his family had gone. Sarah was meant to be the first.
âYeah. Traded some oxy and threw molotovs at clickers in the campus.âÂ
You rewarded him with a giggle and that was incentive enough for him to keep going. âGuys like me didnât get into Harvard. Or Howard. Didnât even go to community college. I finished high school and got a job in construction.âÂ
âYou didnât go to uhâŚconstruction college?â You asked, cocking your head and raising an eyebrow as though testing out the term.
âNo such thing. Well, there were civil engineering programs, but I just learned on the job.âÂ
âLike me.âÂ
âGuess so. I see you reading from all those fat medical books. But thereâs no need to study any books in construction. âcept if you wanna be an engineer or architect or something, which Iâm not.âÂ
âMaybe you should write one. We could all do with some knowledge from before. Itâs important to document it, pass it on to Ellie and little Miles over there.âÂ
âI ainât writing books, sweetheart. Donât think I even remember how to write much. Iâll just keep to fixing things up in this town. So, if you need some help with your placeâŚIâm happy to help.â It was the least he could do. Maybe as some kind of penance for having impure thoughts about you. Or as a fucked up trade for starring in the mental images he conjured to jack off in the shower.
âThere is something, actually. But I donât have anything to trade for, so Iâll wait until I do,â you said, clasping your hands behind your back and swaying in place in an endearing manner.
âNonsense. You patched me up just last week. Youâve done enough for the townâs health to not have to trade for anything ever again.âÂ
âWell, no. Thatâs not how it should be⌠Itâs peopleâs health. Canât put a price on that.â
âBelieve it or not, health had a steep price back in the day. Cost four thousand something just to give birth. Double that if they had to cut you open.â And that was just how much it cost when Sarah was born. He was sure it had only gone up by 2003. If he hadnât worked his ass off, there was no way he couldâve escaped debt. It helped that his Ma and his then wifeâs parents helped with childcare. Wouldâve been even more expensive without that.
âDamn. I donât know how much that is, sinceâŚyâknow we donât have money now. But that sounds like a big number. It shouldnât cost anything just to be born.âÂ
âTell me about it,â he said, shaking his head. âBut listen. Anything you want fixed, Iâll help out. You can give me something later if youâre worried. I know Ellieâs always on the look for new books to read and you seem to have a lot of them.âÂ
âNothing Ellie would like. Not like the special limited edition of Savage Starlight or anything. Just medical textbooks and romance novels.âÂ
âWe could trade for the lemonade from that afternoon,â he insisted, desperate to do something for you. Take care of you as you took care of everyone who walked into the clinic be it papercuts or a fucking knife in their abdomen.Â
âAlright. Trade for the lemonade it is then,â you said, giving in to his pressure.
âNow tell me. What dâya need fixed?âÂ
âââ
It had been a few days since Joel promised to fix your shower for you. Each time he came by and rang your doorbell, you hid somewhere away from your windows. When he caught sight of you in public, you quickly walked away or engaged in conversation with someone else. You didnât need shit fixed. Everything in your house was perfectly alright. Tommy and his guys had given the place a complete makeover just a couple months before Joel and Ellie arrived.Â
You were no paragon of honesty, but you didnât make lying a habit. There were a few white lies here and there and this was meant to be one of them. It just didnât fucking hit you that if you lied to a contractor that your shower was broken, he would eventually come over to fucking fix it. All your desperate sex starved brain wanted that day was for Joel Miller to come use his tools in your room and flex those muscles while at it.
So invested were you in that particular fantasy that as you unwound after a long shift at the clinic, it was with Joelâs beefy arms in mind. You stood in front of your mirror, taking in your reflection. One of the magazines youâd found in a box under your bed laid open on the dressing table. Playboy. Entertainment for Men. Each had a scantily clad woman on the cover. And many more inside.Â
You made comparisons to yourself and the woman in the center page of the issue.
She stood in front of a dressing table too, but much different from how you stood. Her legs were on either side of her dressing table chair and her hands on the top of it. Between her arms were breasts, big and round and with smooth skin. They didnât have any marks on them like yours. No moles, no stretch marks. Just plain. And she just stood there, soft brown hair down, tickling the top of her breasts and her lips parted as she gazed at you. No, at the men she was meant to entertain in this menâs entertainment magazine. All she had on was panties that went high up to her flat belly that connected to high transparent socks.
You reached behind your back and unclasped your bra, wishing that you had something nicer like the woman on the cover of another one of the magazines. Bright red and showing off her breasts wonderfully, but pulled down to reveal almost everything. What was the point of a bra then if it didnât cover or support anything? Entertainment, you decided. Men seemed to be very entertained by breasts.Â
Many a man had stared at yours even though you had them behind layers of fabric unlike the naked women of the magazines. Many had conversations with them instead of your face. Some brushed up against them âaccidentallyâ. Joel thought he was being covert, but you felt his brown eyes rove all over them. You thought maybe that he too would brush up against it sometime, but he never did. Maybe entertainment stopped at just looking, as in the magazines.Â
You wondered if Joel sought out menâs entertainment magazines like this. He was from before everything went to shit, so it was very possible that he did. Did he like the women in these pages, sticking their asses out and looking through the pages at him? Would he be entertained if he saw you like this?Â
You didnât know that if you turned your head to your bedroom door, you would have your answer. Joelâs cock strained against his already tight jeans as he stood awestruck by your figure. He swallowed as you held on to the top of the chair and lifted your knees, one after the other and placed them on the plush seat. You arched your back, a little too much at first before reducing the curve. Your ass stuck out enticingly and he didnât know whether to grab, squeeze, slap, or spread your cheeks apart and fuck your ass.Â
He should leave.Â
It was stupid of him to walk into your house with a box of plumbing tools to fix your shower when you hadnât yet given him a date or time for it. Plus you were avoiding him. Running away with your little friends and picking up stuff to hide your face from his view. He was plenty sure that when heâd rung your doorbell, you werenât always away from home.Â
He should leave.Â
Fixing the shower could wait. He could confront you some other day.Â
But you were putting on such a pretty little show in nothing but your panties and he was only a man. A bad one.Â
His boots stayed put on your hardwood floors as you enjoyed yourself in front of the mirror. You spread your knees and let your fingers between your thighs, eyes closed, lips parted and low whines escaping your lips in just a few minutes. He palmed his growing erection over his jeans, consequences of being caught be damned. He was a foul beast already. What bad was another sin on the list? Besides, you were the one whoâd left the fucking door open.Â
Your soft whimpers grew into moans as you brought yourself closer and he forced his feet to stay put despite their urge to walk up to you and give you something to really moan about.Â
âFuuâ mmm Joel, pleeease.â
He let out a gasp, all his restraint flying out the window as soon as he heard his name from your lips. You couldnât actually be doing this⌠There had to be another Joel in town. Younger, better looking, smarter.
Your voice grew needy and the pitch higher as you kept at it. âFuck, fuck, fuck! Gimme it, Sir.âÂ
No, it couldnât be anyone else.Â
Joel toed his boots off and took quiet steps towards you, emboldened by the filth that spilled from your lips. If this old man was what you wanted, he wouldnât stop himself from reaping the benefits. He wasnât a goddamn saint. Never was.Â
He stopped in front of you, surprised you still hadnât sensed his presence. As though the universe heard his thoughts, it had you open your eyes. You gasped as soon as you saw him and buckled off the chair, but Joel caught you. You shuddered, unable to cope with the sudden touch.Â
âJ-Joel?âÂ
âYeah, sweetheart,â he said, touching your cheek with the back of his hand. You whined, your body molding itself against his chest. You brought a hand to his arm, feeling the rock hard muscles underneath his sleeves and your other hand worked between your legs. Â
Your fingers no longer felt adequate as you felt his large fingers on your cheek. âWant you, please,â you whined, desperate to return to the edge where you had been right before you saw him.Â
âYou donât know what youâre asking of meâŚâ he spoke dangerously, soft brown eyes clouded with a kind of desire you had longed to see in him for weeks.Â
âWant youâŚwant you to be with me,â you repeated stupidly, your desperation clouding your senses too much for you to say anything else. While in the past you only wanted to get rid of your virginity, your goals had become more specific with his arrival. You wanted him. You wanted his big hands and broad shoulders, to hold on to them as you rode him. To watch his grumpy expressions turn to ecstasy under you.Â
âTell me not to touch you,â he said, his tone low and almost threatening. Any other threat from him, you wouldâve heeded. But not this one.Â
âTouch me!âÂ
It was as though something in him snapped at your words. While darkness only loomed over him before, it now completely took over.The hand that previously only caressed your cheek now wrapped itself around your neck. Before you could completely process the move, his other hand slapped yours away. He replaced two of your puny fingers with his middle finger, eliciting a strained moan from you.Â
âTouching yourself to a Playboy magazine, huh?âÂ
You only nodded, unable to form words now that a fantasy of yours had finally come to life.
âDirty little thingâŚThought you were a nice girl and all. Helpinâ out at the clinic, head buried in books all the time. Turns out you actually got your head in dirty magazines.âÂ
You whined, your pussy clenching and gushing around his finger at the way he was speaking to you. The same man who insisted on calling you Maâam despite your protests was calling you a dirty girl now. The veil of respectability seemed to have floated away at the sight of you naked and pleasuring yourself. Had you known that this was all you needed to get Joel Miller to touch you, you wouldâve done it much sooner.
He added another finger, the girth of him enough to stretch you more than you had done for yourself. You brought a hand up to his shoulder and fisted his shirt, needing something to anchor yourself to.Â
âYou ever been taken by a man, sweetheart?â He asked, his tone too cool and casual for what he was doing to you. You shuddered, partly from his phrasingâ taken, he said. Taken. Like you were a thing. Like the women in the magazines positioned so uncomfortably just so their breasts could look a certain way for the picture. Printed on the cover page with the words Entertainment for Men written on top. You shook your head, feeling small as you confessed it for the first time.Â
âAny man?âÂ
âN-no,â you managed to breathe out, whimpering at the way the bulge beneath his jeans twitched at your simple answer. He took a step to position himself behind you, letting you lean your back against his chest. The angle at which he touched your pussy changed, opening your world up to a wonderful new kind of pleasure.Â
âA virgin. Pretty young things like you ainât for men like me,â he whispered in your neck, making you shiver. His thumb roamed between your legs as far as they could reach, caressed you gently, his softness with you contradicting his warning about men like him. The hand around your neck slithered down your torso, cold air forcing you to face your new desire of having your breath kept hostage.Â
He took your left breast in hand, squeezing the flesh like someone starved would hold on to a piece of bread. It felt more like a punctuation to the warning he issued than a part of sex. Just then, his thumb between your legs stopped its search, stopping a little above the fingers inside you.
A moan you didnât recognize as yours at first filled the room and you buckled forward. Blunt nails sunk into the flesh of your breast as he saved you before you could fall. He hauled you back up, making you collide against his chest.Â
You gasped and quickly grabbed the hand between your legs, the sensation too intense for you to know what to do with. His thumb kept on, rolling over something there that set your person on fire.Â
âFuuuck! Joelâ Iâ Iâ hnnngââ
âI know, sweetheart,â he crooned, keeping at whatever the hell he was doing to make you feel this way.Â
âPlease⌠I donâtâ what was that?âÂ
You felt his chest rumble before you heard his laughter. Heat rose to your face and your throat felt strained though there was no hand around it anymore.Â
âNever touched your clit? Do you even know what that is?â He mocked, the cruelty somehow not repelling you from him. He forced you to look up at him. Your heart lurched at how close you were to his face. You could see every gray hair, every minute blemish and line.
âDonât know your own fucking body but you want a man? You donât know what youâre handing me on a silver platter. I ainât like the other guys in town. I walked across the fucking country and lemme tell ya, thereâs no pretty things like you out there. Iâm starved.âÂ
âTake me, then,â you begged, using his own words from earlier. âPlease. Whatever youâ a-aaah!âÂ
He ramped up the pressure on that spotâ your clitâ and with it, took your ability to speak coherently. It was as though heâd done it on purpose. You hated it. To be so bereft of control. To be a puppet in someoneâs hand. For someone to acquaint themselves with parts of you that you didnât know of. But it was too much to fight, so you let go. Let him play with you. Take you. Like a thing.
You renounced control of your lips too, his name slipping out effortlessly like it did when he caught you. Then you renounced what was left of your dignity and began begging relentlessly. For what, you didnât know. In his hand, youâd gone from woman to pupper, your strings pulled by a man, your voice now his. Sounds that would be indiscernible from that of a wounded animal emanated from somewhere deep within you.Â
Perhaps none of this was real. Why else did your own voice grow so distant from you? Why did your vision become blurry? Your thighs shook uncontrollably and your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest. Your eyes clenched shut, depriving you of your blurred vision. Your toes curled. You wanted to shrink into yourself, shrink away from all this goodness. You went higher and higher, soaring like a bird. Every nerve ending in your body felt electrified, awoken like one switch turned on every light on last winterâs Christmas tree.Â
You let out a loud cry, the soaring bird in you reaching its peak before beginning its fall to the ground. You could hear your breaths again, labored but doing everything to stabilize itself. Your thighs still shook. Your chest rose and fell. A hand caressed your hand. Behind you, something strong supported your back. Kept you from falling backward.Â
âJoelâŚâÂ
âI know, I knowâŚâ he whispered into your head. You opened your eyes and looked up at him, surprised to see a softer visage. He picked you up off the chair like youâd seen him lift giant logs before. With ease. You didnât protest as he carried you. Didnât protest when he laid you out on your bed.Â
He bent down and picked something up. No questions, no instructions. He simply spread your leg away from the other. Cold air touched the gushing mess dripping out of you and you shivered, feeling a sudden need to cover yourself but unable to defy him. His hand was on your pussy again. His hardened, calloused fingers behind a soft fabric this time. He wiped upwards, collecting the mess he made out of you. When he lifted the fabric up, you realized it was your panties.Â
He tucked it into the pocket of his jeans and then looked back at your face, the intensity of his gaze making you want to run. Problem was your weak legs wouldnât take you anywhere. You didnât screw your eyes shut. You didnât pull your blanket to conceal yourself. You looked back at him, defiant. Like you were trying to prove something. I can handle a man like you.Â
âBe a good girl from now.âÂ
That and a condescending pat on your pussy and he was gone.
â
Part 2
#joel miller#joel tlou#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x oc#joel miller x original character#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#joel miller age gap#joel miller fanfiction#tlou fanfiction#tlou smut#pedro pascal#pedro pascal character fanfic#all that i've inflicted on the world
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I need a Joel Miller type of man, that is maybe a little too protective over me. He has just a hint of silver in his hair, the cutest smile, broad shoulders and smells like leather, whiskey and oak. Heâs grumpy and intimidating but with me heâs sweet and gentle. Thatâs what I want.
#romantic thoughts#headcannons#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#imagines#blurb#romance#romantic things#love thoughts#age gap love#age gap romance#imagine#love quotes#love poem#romance quotes#romance prompts#love prompts#joel miller#Pedro pascal#fluff#i love him#in love#older guys#quotes#poem#joel miller x you#joel miller imagine#pedrohub#joel miller headcanons#pedro x reader
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Consider It a Favor || J.M.
Summary: Your AC breaks in your car and the one person around to help is your neighbor, Mr.Miller. (No outbreak!Joel miller x f!reader)
Content Warnings: 18+ as always, MDNI. Age gap (Not specified but I put Sarah in college) DILF Joel mowing his lawn, reader is able-bodied and is wearing a swim suit/coverup, reader has hair Joel can pull, kissing, swearing, (1) blowjob, size kink go brrr, pet names (good girl, sweetheart, baby) facedown ass up, babey, a little manhandling, unprotected penetration (don't look at me okay, the whore in me jumped out), dirty talk, Joel hyping up his ego, pussy ownership, creampie, a little glimpse of aftercare and what really happened to your AC.
Authors Note: This is my own submission for Summer Lovin' 24! We had a blast making this and I will def do another in the future. Ali, you are an absolute beast for making all of these moodboards, thank you bby. As always, go check out everyone else's submissions, Ali's been on top of it with the masterlist so you can find them all in one place over at @pedgitođ¤ (Also are we surprised I'm posting this late? No)
|| wc: 3.4k || Dividers by me || Masterlist ||
There he was again, Mr.Miller in the front of his house mowing away at the barley grown grass with nothing but gray shorts on and his shoes, the sweat glistening in the sun over his shoulders. You knew it was wrong to look at your neighbor like this but how could you help yourself when he was so irresistible?
He didnât have a problem with you staring either, he never told you to stop or that it made him feel weird. Having the attention of a woman made him feel good, especially when she was younger than him. It let him know he still had it in him.
âHi Mr.Miller!â You try shouting over the roaring lawn mower but it was no use. He keeps walking up and down near the sidewalk, making sure he doesnât miss an inch. If you didnât get going now, you were never going to make the beach party you got invited to earlier. Making your way down the stairs of your wooden deck and sneaking glances at him every few steps to your car, you smile to yourself imagining him at the beach, laying on his stomach to tan that beautiful back.
Fading back into reality, you realize he was standing in front of you snapping and waving his fingers to get your attention.Â
âHowâs it goinâ sugar? Doinâ okay in this heat?âÂ
âO-oh! Yeah, Iâm just on my way to the beach now. Grass looks really good, can I pay you to cut my dads?â You joke and point behind you to the taller grass that didnât look so bad before Joel cut his.Â
âNo, câmon donât start that shit. Well Iâll let you get goinâ. Iâm fixinâ to finish this yard anyway.âÂ
He waves goodbye and you stand up straight to look your best for his last glance at you, something to hopefully think about when heâs finishing his grass. Flipping over the engine as soon as you get inside, you roll the windows down to let the warm air out and you blast the AC to cool down. Something felt off though, the car was making a weird sound and the air wasnât getting cold like it usually did. Frustrated and hot, you get back out and slam the door shut, walking in front of the hood to open it. Joel notices you get out and he turns to watch you, his brows knitting together in confusion.
âEverything okay, darlin?â He wipes his hands on his shorts as he walks over to you.Â
âNo, my goddamn AC wonât work right and I donât know why but I canât drive there without it, I would actually rather eat a jean jacket.â
He laughs and shakes his head before walking over to the driver side door, climbing in to stick his hand in front of the air vent. Feeling for himself firsthand the disgustingly warm air that was hotter than satan's asshole, Joel walks back to the hood and rests his hand along the top of it, his arm stretched up over his head.Â
âI can take a look at it if you want? Probably wonât make it to the beach today but I can try like hell.â
âAre you sure? I have some cash inside the house to pay you. Hold on, let me go grab it.â You sprint towards the front door of the house and pat down the pockets of your skimpy coverup for the sound of the jingling keys. âHey Joel, do you see my house keys in my car on the seat?â
âLet me look, sweetheart.â He opens the passenger side door and glances around on the passenger seat, not a single nickel key anywhere in sight. This was perfect, just perfect. You locked yourself out and youâre stuck outside in your swimsuit under the see through cover up you just had to wear instead of wearing normal clothes like every other person ever.Â
âNo! No key!â He shouts from your car and gets out, shaking his head side to side in case you didnât hear him.Â
Fuck. What were you going to do now? No one else was going to be home until later tonight, window climbing was out of the question, the back screen door had a wooden pole in the track to keep people from breaking in when you werenât using it, there were no options but to hang out with Joel. You didnât mind, but dressed like this? What would the neighbors think considering how nosy they are and the neighbor across the street who Joel briefly had a thing with. No one knew about that but you, thank god for late night trips to sit on the roof and smoke, right? You get to hear everything when itâs quiet.
Joel shuts the hood and gets back in the driver's seat, the door latching softly behind him. His big hand grabs the back of the passenger seat headrest as he reverses out of your driveway with the other one hand on the wheel, spinning it in such a controlled way it weirdly turns you on seeing him drive like that. He pulls into his garage and shuts off the engine before tucking the keys in the sun visor. He chuckles at the key to keychain ratio you have on the worn out carabiner, the red paint scratched all over and showing the silver metal under it.
âSo, turns out I locked myself out of my houseâŚthis is just great.â You scratch your forehead in frustration and sigh. If you were just paying attention to what you were doing when you were leaving you wouldnât have locked yourself out and you wouldnât be out here half naked with Joel. You fling the trunk open and start to look for extra clothes, anything to put on to be a little more presentable and not have the neighbors question your entire life.
The options were slim pickings. A choice between wearing a hoodie in 100 degree weather, a safety vest you swore you needed to buy the other day, and someoneâs jeans that werenât your size at all.Â
âWhat are you doinâ back there?âÂ
âLooking for something to put on because I look crazy.âÂ
A sigh of relief washes over you as you find all the way in the corner of the trunk, an oversized gray t-shirt you didnât even remember owning. The band printed on the front was so faded out by now you couldnât tell who was even on it.Â
Pulling the cotton fabric over your swimsuit and shimming your cover up down your legs until youâre able to step out of it, you toss it in the trunk before you slam it shut and grab a seat next to the oscillating fan he has going. The semi cool air blows your scent right in his direction and he tries to act normal about the smell of your perfume mixed with sunscreen. He yanks the short stool over to him and the wheels wobble as it rolls fast towards him and he sits down with his flashlight in his other hand, inspecting what could be the issue. The heat was starting to get to you and your head was pounding, ringing with a sharp headache.Â
âSweetheart, come hold this light for me, would you please?âÂ
âY-yeah, absolutely.âÂ
You stand up a little too eagerly and walk over to where he was in front of the car. Joelâs hand brushes against yours as he holds out the black flashlight, his dark brown eyes glancing up at yours as soon as your skin touches. It was something youâd never felt before. Maybe it was because he was so much older and it was wrong to feel this way about your neighbor. Maybe it was the excitement of knowing youâd be thinking about this later when you were home and by yourself, taking care of this aching feeling that was growing between your thighs.Â
âPoint it up just a little bit more, yeah right there. Good girl.âÂ
At this point he has to know what he was doing to you, the smirk on his lips was a dead give away. He saw the way your eyes widened just enough to make his breath catch in his throat, but he couldnât act on it. Not yet, at least. He grunts and groans as he starts to move stuff and loosen nuts, the same sounds you imagine echo off his bedroom walls when heâs taking care of himself. He seems like a moaner when heâs jerking off, with such a big house and just one person living there now, there was no way he was a silent masturbater.Â
A few hours passed and your hair was sticking to the nape of your neck, completely drenched in sweat. He ended up finding the problem and fixing it just like that. He must know what heâs doing because he found the problem fastâŚa little too fast.
âThank you, Mr.Miller, I really appreciate it. Do you have something I can drink?âÂ
âOh, shit! Iâve got lemonade inside, câmon. Ladies first.âÂ
Joel stands up and lets you walk past before heâs behind you, watching your amazing ass move as you walk up the two little steps to go inside the house. His hand reaches up to the wall and presses on the white button to close the garage door. Seeing the inside of his house was new to you, youâd only seen what you could inside by the front door when you walked by. The tan walls lead you to the kitchen and he points to the white counter island.Â
âSit and wait for me right here, Iâll get ya some lemonade and we can cool off.âÂ
His finger points to the small barstool tucked under the counter and you straddle the leather top, your ass looking so tempting. The air blows through the vent next to your leg and you shiver slightly as it kisses your warm leg, your nipples hardening under your shirt. Joel walks over to your side and stands close, the lemonade glass clinking against the counter when he sets it down.Â
âSo what do I owe you?â You ask, taking a sip of lemonade.
âNothinâ consider it a favor.âÂ
âAre you sure?âÂ
You didnât want it to just be a favor, but if he wanted to play that game, you could too.Â
âMore than sure, sweetheart.âÂ
Joelâs waist is so close to brushing against your arm, it was killing you not to move just the slightest to feel him on you. You look up at him and roll your eyes slightly.Â
âWhat was that for?â He asks, his brows knitting together in confusion.Â
âI donât know what youâre talking about.â The smirk grows wider on your face before you turn the stool forward but Joelâs hand comes to your neck, right underneath your hair, and he grasps firmly before he guides you to look at him once more.Â
âThink you know exactly what Iâm talkinâ about.â
His words were breathy, as if heâs running out of time to talk and his lips crash onto yours. Joelâs mustache pokes against your lip as you kiss him deeper before pulling away, standing with your back against the counter, Joel right in front of you with his hands on his hips.Â
âI um, I didnât mean to do that. I donât know what I was thinking.â Joel looks around the kitchen as if his excuse is written out on the walls for him.Â
âI wonât tell anyone, I promise. You can trust me, Mr.Miller.âÂ
The innocent smile you flash at him causes him to chuckle and shake his head at you. Joel crosses his arms over his chest and gives a pause before responding.Â
âYouâre trouble, you know that? Come here.â His finger signals for you to come closer and you happily oblige. Joelâs hands squeeze your hips before his right one travels up to your neck, gripping firmly so you canât wiggle away.
âTell me, princessâŚis that what you want? You want me to bend you over the couch, touch you until you canât take it, shove my cock in your pretty little mouth?â
Full body chills wash over you. Jesus christ, he was good. Looking at him in his eyes once more, the true nature of Joel Miller was coming out to play. The man who pretended to be an innocent, quiet neighbor, was actually just an older man who wanted to fuck you just as much, if not more than you wanted him to. A wolf in sheep's clothing.
âThatâs exactly what I want. More than anything.â You grab his forearm and rub softly before following down to his hip.Â
It was driving him crazy the way you were toying with the waistband of his gray shorts, the anticipation was killing him. Joel lets go of your neck and nods his head to the floor, wanting you to get on your knees in front of him. When you kneel down and sit patiently, his shorts fall right to his feet, hardened cock springing out in front of you.Â
âI donât think this is gonna fit, Joel.âÂ
âItâs okay, donât worry; Iâll make it fit. Open your mouth, sweetheart.âÂ
Joel waits until your lips part and your tongue sticks out before smacking the tip of his cock against the wetness pooling on your tongue. His groans fill your ears like a symphony and you swear youâve died and gone to heaven. His cock wasnât even inside you yet and you were already so wet for him, you could feel it all over the inside of your swimsuit bottoms. You grab the base and begin sucking, taking your time so your lips run slowly over every vein, every inch of skin his cock has to offer.
The amazing work you were doing with your mouth causes him to grunt and buck his hips, ever so slightly face fucking you until he looks down with his teeth clenched from the pleasure.Â
âGod damn, you can take it deep. Nasty little one. Doinâ even better than I imagined.âÂ
The bell goes off in your head and you slowly take his cock out of your mouth and look up at him with a grin on your face.Â
âYou think about what it would be like to get a blowjob from me?âÂ
Joel scratches his beard and looks away from you so you donât see the blush creeping on his face.Â
âI do, every night. You donât make it easier on me when I see you outside half naked because itâs so hot out, your tits spilling out of your top. Youâre so fucking beautiful, sweetheart.âÂ
Now it was your turn to feel the heat rising in your cheeks. You always wondered if he noticed your outfits and he was giving you answers you never thought youâd get. You continue working your tongue from his balls all the way to the tip of his cock, swirling your tongue over the tip and getting any precum dripping out from the way you had him going. His hand runs through your hair and wraps around it, tugging everytime your tongue brushes over the sensitive spot right under the tip.Â
âGet up, I canât take this anymore. I need to fuck you, I need to feel what itâs like inside you.â
He helps you up and walks you over to the black leather couch tucked right under the big picture window in the living room, tossing you down onto the cushions and pulling your ass up into the air with your back arched. He watches as the swim fabric reveals your glossy cunt with the help of Joel pulling the bottoms down just to sit right below your ass.
âAre you ready to be a good girl for me?â Joel grabs your hips and leans over you, cupping your breasts and toying with a nipple as he grinds his cock against your ass waiting for your approval.Â
âY-yes, Joel. I want you to stretch me out. Give it all to me, please.âÂ
That was enough for him to push his thick cock deep inside you and for a moment your eyes rolled back into your skull. It was one thing having it down your throat but it was another when it feels like it's tearing you in two. Joelâs big hand spreads on your lower back as he drives himself deeper into you, giving you a moment of time to adjust to him before he starts thrusting.Â
âFuck youâre so tight, already squeezing around me. You like that, baby?â His hips slam into you with a rhythmed pace and he grabs your wrists, pinning them to your back while he goes faster.Â
Joelâs balls pat against your ass with the speed heâs going and his grunts fall into sync with yours. The two of you start to move against each other and Joel pins your arms tighter to your back to keep himself steady. This was everything you wanted and more and the way your tummy was doing flips, you knew he was ruining you and this wasnât just a one time thing.Â
âOh my god, Mr.Miller please, go harder, please. Spank me.âÂ
Joelâs ears perk up and he doesnât let your arms fall to your side. He holds your wrists with one hand and begins to slap your ass, groaning with every connection his palm makes with your cheeks. You lose count after the fourth one and continue to moan Joelâs name, your pussy aching from the contact.
âI think youâre gonna get me addicted to this pussy, sweetheart. Gonna have to come over again so you can make yourself feel good on my cock, you like the sound of that, baby? I hope I ruin guys your age for you so you only want an older man deep inside you.â
You whine out and the building feeling in your tummy continues and Joelâs words almost push you over the edge. His hand lets go of your wrists and grasp firmly on your hips, slamming your body back against his.Â
âI can feel you wanting to come. Is that right? Tell me who this pussy belongs to, sweetheart. Tell meâ he growls and spanks you.
Your teeth clamp together as you try not to come yet but he makes it hard with the way heâs plowing into you. Gripping onto the cushion next to you, you try to answer but his moans catch you off guard and make you lose focus.
âCâmon, baby. Tell me who this pussy belongs to and Iâll let you come.âÂ
Joel spanks your ass again and it brings you enough momentum to respond.
âItâs-fuck-itâs yours Joel. This pussy is yours, all yours I swear.âÂ
The groan he pulls deep from his sternum is exactly what you need to send you over, dissolving into pleasure underneath Joel. He doesnât stop thrusting inside of you as he finds it fascinating to watch you squirm and choke out broken moans of his name.
âItâs okay, I got you baby. Iâve got you.â He pants out and soon heâs following you, shooting his load of cum deep inside you. The two of you whimper soft nothings as you come down off your high and Joel catches his breath while he goes soft inside you, the living room falling quiet now.Â
As you lay there in a daze with Joel getting off of you, he gives you another moment before he helps you up and fixes your swimsuit bottoms to where they should be sitting. You fix your hair to not look so crazy and turn around to look outside the window and over to your driveway, no one home yet.Â
âJoel, would it be okay if I took a nap? You kinda wore my ass out.â You laugh and rest your head on his shoulder.Â
âYeah, absolutely. I wonât uh, I wonât make you sleep on the couch though. Câmon, come sleep in my bed. Iâll make us somethinâ to eat.â He kisses your forehead and walks you to his room. The blue walls and gray sheets invite you in and youâre drawn to his bed immediately. The pillows still fluffed and mangled from him sleeping earlier in the morning but you couldnât wait to lay on them. He gets you all cozy and in his spot he sleeps and kisses you once more.Â
âIâll come get you when the food is done. Also, sorry I ruined your AC but at least I fixed it!â He says quickly and disappears down the stairs.Â
#summerlovin24#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#pedro pascal#joel miller#joel miller x you#the last of us#neighbor!joel#tw age gap#the last of us hbo#joel smut#joel the last of us#joel miller fanfic#my writing
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đđĄđ đŠđŤđđđđĄđđŤ'đŹ đđđŽđ đĄđđđŤ | masterlist!
Dbf! Joel Miller x female reader
"God loves you but not enough to save you,"
summary: In the small town near Austin, Texas, you are trapped in a life of rigid expectations and silent suffering. As the preacher's daughter, you endure the mental and physical abuse of your father while your mother, bound by obedience, offers quiet love. Your longing for a father's warmth finds an unexpected solace in Joel Miller, your father's best friend and neighbor. In Joel's presence, you discover a forbidden sanctuary, where your yearning heart is met with a gentle strength you've never known.
warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, ped0ph!l1a, cann1bal!sm, human traff1ck1ng, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.
đđŠđ˘đ đŤđđŠđĄ
â to my love, Joel.
,...found you just to tell you that I made it real far, i never blamed you for loving me the way that you did.
while you were torn apart, i would still wait with you there.
don't think about it too hard, honey. or you'll never sleep a wink at night again.
and don't worry about me and these green eyes,
baby, just know that i love you. and i'll see you when you get here.
i love you forever, Joel... â
THE PLAYLIST! (on spotify)đ°đźââď¸
the preacher's daughter âŞď¸ dbf! joel miller
MASTERLIST!đ
Chapter 1: "But I always knew in the end, no one was coming to save me,"
Chapter 2: "Because that's how my daddy raised me,"
Chapter 3: "I watched him show his love through shades of black and blue"
Chapter 4: "He looks like he works with his hands, and smells like Marlboro reds,"
Chapter 5: "Because for the first time since I was a child, I could see a man who wasn't angry,"
Chapter 6: "Let him make a woman out of me,"
Chapter 7: "You wanna fuck me right now?"
Chapter 8: "The fates already fucked me sideways,"
Chapter 9: "Christ, forgive these bones I'm hiding,"
Chapter 10: "and that's why I could never go back home,"
Chapter 11: "I don't care where as long as you're with me,"
Chapter 12: "If it's meant to be, then it will be."
Chapter 13: "Beautiful people, beautiful problems."
Chapter 14: "You put your hands into your head, and then smile cover your hearts."
Chapter 15: "Something's bad is 'bout to happen to me,"
Chapter 16: "Tag, you're it."
Chapter 17: "If he's a serial killer then what's the worst that could happen to a girl who's already hurt?"
Chapter 18: "He's cold-blooded so it takes more time to bleed"
Chapter 19: "Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise,"
Chapter 20: "You poor thing, sweet, mourning lamb. There's nothing you can do."
Chapter 21: "If we die tonight, I'd died yours."
Chapter 22: ENDING
read it on wattpad!
the preacher's daughter by babyvenoms
ENJOY! and if you guys have any like visuals to this, or art that you made for this I would love to put it here, just let me know! thank you!! đŠľ
#dbf!joel miller x reader#pedro pascal x reader#joel miller x reader#pedro pascal#joel miller#the last of us#pedro pascal smut#joel miller smut#the last of us hbo#dark!joel miller x reader#dbf!joel miller#joel miller the last of us#ethel cain#lana del rey#southern gothic#joel miller age gap#tommy miller#joel tlou#ellie williams#tlou#tlou hbo#joel miller x you#pedro pascal x you#preacher's daughter
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aches, thoughts, and needs
miniseries masterlist (complete)
post-outbreak, Joel Miller x innocent reader
SUMMARY: Joel takes you under his wing on the journey to Jackson. You have a lot to learn.
WARNINGS: I8+ big girthy age gap (20s/50s), cock hungry virgin, no experience, only one sleeping bag.
Fires - Prologue
Aches
Thoughts
Needs
pedro characters masterlist
complete but open to asks about these two đ¤
#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller x female reader#innocent reader#virginity loss#cw age gap#toxic masterlist#aches!joel#toxicanonymity â ď¸
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sweet thing - dbf!joel miller x reader
Summary: Your life is in disarray. Your father is overbearing, your boyfriend is unkindâ and blooming into adulthood is just about the most difficult season youâve braved. Things only become more complex when feelings begin to develop between you and an old friend of your fathers. DBF!Joel Miller (dadâs best friend). Alternate universe as well, there is NO APOCALYPSE.
Notes: Girl I have been radio silent but this picture awoke me from my slumber because oh my God??? Look at this beautiful, haunted man. Pls enjoy the ideas that came from this still. Idk how well this will do but if u guys enjoy, lmk (I LOVE comments / interactions) and I will add to it <3
A03 | masterlist
sweet thingâŚ
Your father did the best he could. You knew that very well. Charlie was a man respected and adored by his humble community. A hard working father turned single parent when your mom fell ill and godâ you were his little flower. His sweet thing. His angel.
Flowers are fragile, though. Gentle, moldable petals and stiff, snappable stems.
It is why he kept you so close to him, so prized like painted porcelain just ready to crack.
It is why you were here. Here at Jacksonâs golden hued dance with more powdered, jam-filled pastries and red, roasted meats then you could count on one hand. Here. Instead of the alternative option which was the party your boyfriend decided to attend without you.
You got the invite, sure, yet even as a legal adultâ what daddy says? Goes. So long as you remain under his roof, at least. It was infuriating, though. The freedom of all your dear friends, the spontaneity. If only that could be youâŚ
Your eyes drifted to the moustached sponge of all fun and joy in the world, wrapped in a flannel with bourbon in hand. Your dad was seated next to Joel, as he often was. His presence was a newfound thing for these recent years and though Joel would never say it, you had an inkling that he wanted to stand by his friendâs side after your mother⌠well.
You didnât know Joel well. No, not at all. His visits were always the occasional dinner or drop in for fishing or some awfully manly thing. You knew well that your mother adored him, thoughâ so that was enough to make him alright in your book.
Neighbor Betsy told you once that Joel had lost his wife and daughter too, and that maybe he was trying to keep your father from going through what he went through alone.
You only laughed at that.
Joel Miller was gruff and cold. Could he have such a warm heart beneath his sherpa coat?
You dazed out, the fingers snapping in front of your eyes made you blink back into the golden hues and roasted sausages on pointy little sticks.
âYou alright, honeybee?â Your father asked, laying a heavy arm upon your shoulders. Joel was slower in his approach, eyeing you up and down with confusion and something else in his eyes.
âPeachy.â You only muttered, taking a sip of your freshly squeezed lemonade. Jacksonâs finest.
âOh come on now angel⌠now you know I canât have you runninâ off with that boyfriend of yours. I always told you he was trouble. Memberâ when he ditched you down by Church Road during mosquito season? Well you were ripe as a red tomater and who had to pick you up?â
You were riper, redder now. Your cheeks an embarrassed hue not even on the color wheel, not even identifiable. You bowed your head, huffing out your frustrations before simply muttering: âyou did, dad.â
He nodded proud, squeezing your shoulder. âThatâs right, I did⌠what?â
Your eyes drifted up to see your fatherâs oldest friend with an odd kind of expression on his face. Brows pinched and raised, wrinkles plaguing his forehead deeper now.
Joel only cleared his throat, shifting on his boots and taking a sip of his bourbon in preparation. Then? He spoke.
âYou ainât lettinâ her be.â He gruffly offered, eyes set and sure. Your father only stilled for a moment, wondering if it was even Joelâs place to have an opinion⌠maybe it was.
âWhyâs that?â He asked Joel, and the rough looking man only took another swig.
âMm. We were both young once. We both made mistakes, yâgotta let her make her ownâ canât hide her from emâ. Just ainât how it works.â
Poppies blossomed like springtime had finally begun in your eyes. Finallyâ someone understood. You didnât expect him to be so⌠wise?
Your father only huffed, taking a long glance your way as he mused.
âEven if I wanted to loosen the leash tonight, Joel, I canât. Maria needs me here to keep an eye on crazy old Arthur.â
Joelâs brows relaxed at that, a purpled hand running along the zipper of his flannel coat. His eyes were a chocolate kind of brown, dark and quietly encasing his thoughts within them.
He hummed, gaze drifting back to you.
You wanted to shrink. Perhaps it was because you were on the spot, perhaps it was because the way he stared would make anyone feel small.
It seemed like centuries before he cleared his throat again.
âIâll take her.â
What?
You didnât understand it, not one bit. Why was he kind enough to offer you an out here? Kind enough to test your fatherâs words.
Discomfort radiated through your fatherâs coat, tension molding its way into his already stiff bones. A long sigh, a glance back and forth as he truly considered. His expression was far too plagued with worry, and you knew well that it was now or never.
You had to slam down the last nail in the oak wood coffin.
âPlease, daddy? Iâll check in every half hour, I promise.â
Tension eased, slightly butâ still. Your eyes were doe-like and sweet, and he gazed into them for a moment far too long before allowing his arm to drop.
âEvery fifteen minutes and youâve got a deal. Miller, you make sure my daughter gets in and out of that bastardâs house safely.â
Joel only nodded once, jaw tense and expression stoic. Your grin was wider than a field of flowers, and you immediately wrapped your father in a hug. Your thank yous seemed endless, and it made him laugh.
When you parted, Joel had keys grasped in his rough hands. You realized for a moment that you had no idea why he was doing this. What did he owe you? Maybe it was pity. You were half an orphan, after all.
With a cautious glance, your eyes met his own. He nodded once as if to urge you closer, and you stumbled his way. Before you knew it? You were out the door, trailing behind him like his shadow.
Of all the people who cared enough to convince your father to let you go to this party tonight? Joel Miller was the last person you expected it to beâŚ
Âżto be continued?
#joel miller#joel tlou#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#dbf!joel#dbf!joel miller#dads best friend#joel miller smut#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal cinematic universe#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x y/n#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller fluff#tlou#tlou fanfiction#joel miller story#joel miller self insert#joel miller series#joel miller angst#joel miller au#joel miller age gap#joel miller comfort#joel miller hurt/comfort#joel miller imagine
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pairing: cult leader!joel miller x virgin!female reader
rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)
word count: 8.6k
summary:
You think youâre as good as dead when a band of raiders find you. In what you think are your final moments, an angel appears.
His name is Joel Miller, and he is here to deliver you from evil.
author's note: a huge thank you to my fellow cultist @atinylittlepain for listening to me scream about this. without them, we'd probably be on version 5 of this story. and to everyone who has been excited about this, i hope you enjoy!
warnings: DARK CONTENT - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, dub-con: power dynamics, dub-con: cult mentality, age difference - 60M and 27F, explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), no use of y/n, dual POV, post-outbreak, canon divergence, canon typical violence (knife wounds, gun shot wounds, numerous mentions of blood), minor character death(s), blood cult ceremonies, religious themes, possessive behavior, emotional manipulation, loss of virginity, oral sex - f receiving, vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v, cum play, dirty talk, pet names, praise, joel really has a loose screw ok? if there are any tags missing, please let me know!
âI donât think you should go out there by yourself,â you say, watching as your dad inspects his gun. He looks up at you with a pained expression.
âI gotta see where we should head next. I donât want to lead you out in the wrong direction, accidentally get you in a bad spot,â he says. âIâll be fine, buttercup.â
Thereâs a heaviness that settles in your stomach at his words. He sounds confident enough, but his eyes tell a different story, expose his fear. He stands with a sigh, a wince of pain washing over his face.
âMaybe I shouldââ
âNo,â he interrupts. âIâm going. I wonât be gone long, okay? We canât stay here forever. Who knows whatâs out there in the forest.â
Thatâs exactly what youâre afraid of. At least inside the rotted cabin you stumbled across you could pretend you were safe. The forest is alive in a way youâve never experienced growing up in a QZ surrounded with barbed wire and steel. You hear the snap of twigs and the howl of wolves, or the flutter of wings and the call of birds, and sometimes you think you feel the weight of eyes watching you if you venture out too far in your exploration.
âWeâve made it this far. We got out of Denver and that was half the battle,â your dad says. âYou got your knife, right? And enough rations.â
You nod, swallowing around the lump in your throat. He kisses your forehead, dry lips lingering on your skin. You have an aching feeling this is a goodbye, some sinking intuition that heâs making a mistake that you canât correct.
âBe back soon. I love you.â
Joelâs been keeping an eye on the people in the woods for the last three days. There was chatter on one of the radio stations that the Denver QZ was facing an uprising and he knows that once those walls come down, the survivors that venture out are bound to stumble across his town.
The cabin door opens and the man steps out, venturing into the forest. Joel waits to see if his female companion follows, but the door remains shut. He longs to see you, the girl whoâs image has been burned into his brain since his first glimpse, but he has a duty to fulfill first.
He walks quickly and quietly through the forest, sure feet catching up with the man less than a mile from where heâd started. Joel clears his throat.Â
The man turns, fumbling with a gun that he clearly has no experience using, pointing it at Joel with shaking hands and shouting, âMove and Iâll shoot!âÂ
âYou lost?â Joel asks, holding his hands up and keeping his face trained in a mask of concern. âLookinâ for somethinâ?â
After a pause, the man seeming to have concluded that Joel isn't a threat, he says, âMy daughter and IâŚwe escaped the Denver QZ."
"That must've been difficult."Â
"We....we're running out of food," he continues, dropping his arms, limbs hanging heavy at his sides. "I-I don't know what else to do, man."
Gun no longer pointed at his face, Joel approaches the man, stopping when he's within arms reach. Up close, he can see the dismal state the guy is in -- sunken cheeks and bloodshot eyes, tattered clothing hanging on a thin frame. Joel places a hand on his bony shoulder.
"I can help you," he says. The man looks up, a brief glimmer of hope flashing in his eyes. Joel watches the slow realization, the way his brain catches up to what's just happened, a choked noise spilling from his dry lips.Â
Joel tugs his knife from the man's gut and steps back, watching as he collapses to the ground. Desperate hands smear the blooming red stain across his abdomen. Joel circles the man, positioning himself at his back, and pulls him close with a hand slapped over his mouth.
"I'll take good care of her," he whispers before dragging his knife across his neck in one clean slice. The man twitches once before growing limp and Joel releases him, body hitting the forest floor with a dull thud. Not one to waste, Joel gathers anything of use from his person.Â
Something catches the light against his neck. Curious, Joel tugs the bloodstained neck of his t-shirt to the side, finding a silver chain. He pulls, revealing the length of it.Â
A cross.
The clasp snaps with a sharp tug and Joel stuffs it in his pocket. Standing and shouldering his bag once more, he begins his walk back towards the cabin.
You're running as fast as your legs will carry you, lungs and limbs burning with the effort. You made the mistake of not listening to your dad when he'd told you stay where you were, to stay hidden, that he'd come back. Your nerves had gotten the best of you and you decided that you would catch up with him, but you didn't know which direction he'd gone. You figured you would travel a little ways and see if you could find him and if you didn't do so quickly, you'd rush back to the cabin and wait, just as he told you.
That's when the men saw you, two large figures with rifles that reminded you of FEDRA soldiers slung across their backs.Â
You duck behind a thick tree to catch your breath. You can hear voices calling out through the forest above the rush of blood in your ears, taunting tones carrying through the air.
"C'mon out, pretty girl!"Â
You chance a peek out from your hiding spot, only catching a brief glimpse of one man through the trees.Â
"Where ya hidin', sweet thing?"Â
His voice sounds far away and that gives you the courage to move forward, a tentative dash for another tree.Â
âI might be nicer to ya if you just come on out, but if I have to hunt ya downâŚwellâŚyou know what a hunter does to its prey, donâtcha?â
You press your hand over your mouth, muffling the cry that claws its way up your throat. You start to run again, faster, not caring if he can hear you so long as you're able to maintain that distance, hoping that if you can outrun them for long enough, he'll just give up and then maybe you can find your--
You crash into something, the world sliding out from under you and the breath rushing from your lungs as you land on your back with a pained shout. A hand wraps around your ankle, pulling you across the rough ground before you have the chance to recover.Â
"Gotcha," a man says, the voice different from the one that had been taunting you before. A figure stands over you, a foot on either side of your hips, looking down at you with a sinister smile. "Pretty little prize, huh?"
You twist your body, scrambling away from him. He laughs, following after you with unhurried strides.
âNow, donât play hard to get,â he admonishes. A hand wraps around your ankle and he drags you toward him, kicking and screaming. Your foot connects with some fleshy part of him and he curses.Â
âYou little fuckinâ cunt,â he hisses, dropping your foot. He kicks you, heavy boot colliding with soft flesh and bone, a sharp pain blossoming in your side, shooting down to your very marrow. You curl in on yourself, wounded prey trying to protect its most vulnerable parts.
A shot rings out, the sound startling in the relative quiet of the forest. You sit up, sudden movement making you light headed, and it takes you a long moment to register the scene before you.
The man that had been chasing you, the one that had caught you, the one that had hurt you on the surface but planned to do far worse, lies on the ground, eyes wide open but unseeing. Above him stands your savior, an older man with gray streaked dark curls and tan skin, broad shoulders and hard brown eyes. He reminds you of a painting you saw once in a book your dad owned, long before the outbreak.
âDeath On A Pale Horse,â he explained when you showed him the painting that caught your eye. âBased on the Book of Revelations. You remember that one, right?âÂ
âYeah.â
âThis one,â â he pointed to the central figure, a dark creature on a white horse â âis Death. And this oneâ â he pointed to a figure on the right that rides a dark brown horse, the dark colors making him blend among the horrors breaking from the sky behind him â âwould be famine. You can see the emaciated man below him.â
âWhat about the other two?â You asked.
âThe one of the red horse would be war.â
You pointed to the remaining figure, a man with dark curls and a determined expression. âAnd the white horse?â
Your dad paused. âConquest. Pestilence. The Antichrist. The first horseman of the apocalypse.â
The man before you today looks like that figure on the white horse and despite his choice to rescue you from one horror, you fear he may be something far worse.
The man kneels and you flinch away from him. He sighs and says, âI ainât goinâ to hurt you.â
âWho are you?â You ask, voice weak, throat on fire.Â
âMy name is Joel,â he says. âI want to help you.â
âHow do I know you werenât with those other guys?â Your eyes grow wide and you rush to stand on shaky legs. âWait, thereâs anotherââ
âHe wonât be an issue,â Joel assures you, wrapping a steadying arm around your waist. âCâmon.â
âI canâtââ
âMen like those two ainât the only things in the forest to worry about, and Iâm afraid we canât sit around and find out. That gun shot could send a horde runninâ.â
âWait!â You snap, pulling out of his grasp. He holds his hands up, as if in surrender, or maybe like heâs approaching a wounded animal. Youâre not sure which. âMy dad is out there. H-he went to figure out where to go from here. We were in a cabinâŚâ Your voice trails off. âI told him I would wait for him.â
Joelâs eyes are soft as he says, âWe need to get ourselves to safety. I can send someone out to look for your dad first thing in the morninâ.â
âSend someone?â
âThereâs a group of us, down in the valley. Survivors, like you.â
âReally?â Relief washes over you, eclipsing even the ache in your belly and the burn in your throat and the pain in your muscles. âHow far?â
âWith the state youâre in, probably about a two hour hike.â
You donât have much choice but to go with him, do you?
âOkay.â
âWhereâre you cominâ from?â Joel asks, glancing over his shoulder at you. Youâve been following quietly behind him, head down and eyes fixed on the ground.Â
âDenver,â is all you offer in response. He knew that much already. He wants to know more.
Maybe he has to give more first.
ââM from Texas, originally. Was in a QZ in Boston for a while before makinâ my way out here.â
âWhyâd you come out here?â You ask.
âHad a friend once tell me, âSave who you can saveâ,â he says.Â
âWhat does that mean?â You ask.
âYouâll see.â
Joel had mentioned survivors, but you're shocked to discover that just past a wooden sign proclaiming WELCOME TO CRESTONE in chipped yellow paint, a whole town is tucked away, surrounded by a wooden gate that opens for you as you approach. You feel the weight of curious eyes as you walk through a town square, Joel's palm between your shoulder blades steering you towards a more residential area until you reach a two story adobe home.
Once inside, youâre led upstairs to a sparsely decorated bedroom, a large bed in the center with a faded quilt tucked around the mattress with precision and a dresser against one wall covered in yellowed wallpaper. Joel gestures for you to sit, kneeling on the wood floor in front of you to work on the laces of your sneakers.
âWhatââ
âYou need rest,â he says, removing your shoes. He looks up at you, brown eyes full of concern. Your stomach flips.
âButââ
âNo,â he says sternly. He stands and walks to the side of the bed, tugging the quilt free and folding it down. âI have duties to return to, but youâll be safe here.â
You donât have it in you to continue arguing. You havenât seen a comfortable bed in more than two days and the exhaustion catches up to you in one fell swoop, eyes halfway to shut as you crawl into the space Joelâs made for you between the sheets. He pulls the covers over you, the warmth of a hand smoothing across your cheek the last thing you feel before falling asleep.
You wake to the sun high in the sky, streaming through the open window of a room that you don't recognize. You push yourself to sitting, your ribs protesting the movement and your head pulsing just behind your eyes. Your mouth is unbearably dry, so much so that you start coughing, further aggravating your bruised ribs.
"There's water on the nightstand," a voice says, startling you.
You look to your left, finding a young girl sitting in a wooden chair by your bed. Her dark hair is pulled back from her face, wayward pieces falling across pale skin. Her sharp brown eyes watch you with an intensity that makes your skin crawl.
âIâm Ellie,â she says. You mumble your own name.
âDid Joel save you?â Ellie asks.Â
âUhââ
âHe must have. Thatâs what he does,â she continues, cutting you off.Â
âEllie!â A familiar deep voice calls out. Her eyes go wide and she scrambles from her seat, rushing for the door. Heavy footsteps climb the stairs, Joel appearing in the open doorway. He looks at her with a stern expression, mouth pressed in a thin line. âThought I told you not to come up here.â
The look on her face isnât fear, like her reaction would have led you to believe. No, she looks up at Joel with reverence as she says, âSorry. Wanted to see her.â
Joel nods. âHead to the mess hall. Iâll bring her down shortly.â
Ellie casts a lingering look in your direction before disappearing through the doorway.Â
âSorry about her,â Joel says. He takes a seat on the edge of the mattress. âHowâre you feelinâ?â
âCould be better,â you say honestly. âHow long was I asleep for?â
âA little more than a day.â
Your eyes go wide. âMy dadââ
âWeâve sent out a search party. No luck yet, Iâm afraid,â he says. You curl into yourself a bit at the news, shoulders tight with worry. He reaches forward and places a hand on top of your own where it rests on the sheets. âYou should get some food. I brought you some new clothes, too. Iâll let you get dressed and we can go down to the mess hall.â
He leaves the room before you respond and you drag the pile of clothes closer to you, finding a neatly folded t-shirt, jeans, underwear, and socks. It takes you a long moment to work your way out of your dirty clothes, your movements slow to not aggravate your injuries. You keep your bra on, pulling the clean shirt over your head, followed by the jeans. You're thrilled to be wearing something that's not caked with dirt and sweat.
You're working on putting your socks on when there's a knock at the door, Joel entering when you call out for him to come in. He smiles at you.
"There, that's better," he says. "C'mon. Let's get down to dinner."
You follow him out of the room and down the stairs. The first floor of the home has a kitchen that opens up to a living and dining area, the space filled with worn mismatched furniture. The walls are wood paneled and there's a massive stone fireplace with elk antlers mounted above it.
The sun is setting as you step outside and get your first real look at the town as its bathed in gold. Narrow residential streets give way to wider roads once you reach the town center, where commercial buildings are pressed together advertising long forgotten businesses, their windows dark.Â
"That's the butcher up there," Joel says, pointing to one of the wooden buildings. "He gets the meat from the traps prepped for us." He points to another building with a sign that says RESTAURANT. "That's the bakery."
"A butcher and a bakery?" You ask. "Do you have electricity here?"
"Sure do. Solar panels, just outside the gate."
You continue walking through the town until you come up on a large white building, people entering and exiting through a set of thick double doors. The shadow of a cross remains above the door, perhaps scorched by the sun where a crucifix once sat. People welcome Joel as he enters, heads turning in their curiosity. You press a little closer to Joel's side.
The large room is bursting with noise and activity -- a flurry of conversations, the clink of cutlery, and laughter. You've not seen anything like it before, the mentality in the QZ not conducive to camaraderie. You can count on one hand the number of people you would have considered friends within those walls, and even that was a stretch. You and Joel join a line of people retrieving plates of food from a single window.Â
"How long has all of this been here?" You ask, gesturing to the room. He looks around proudly.
"Ellie and I came across this town on accident after we went through hell leavin' Boston. The folks here set up their own quarantine zone and with bigger fish to fry, FEDRA sort of left âem alone. They were kind enough to take us in," he says. "After that, more people started showin' up lookin' for safety. Lots of people who escaped the QZs or had been on their own for a while and were tired of runnin'."
"Ellie says you save people," you comment, taking a step forward as the line moves. "What's that mean?"
"Every flock needs a shepherd."
Youâre at the front of the line now, standing in front of the window. A woman appears, her face lighting up when she sees Joel.
âJoel! How are you?â She asks, leaning onto the ledge. Behind her you can see people moving quickly and efficiently around a stainless steel kitchen, large pots of food simmering on the stovetop.Â
âWell enough,â he says. He places a hand on your shoulder. âWe have a new guest. Make her plate nice and full for me?â
âOf course.âÂ
She gathers a plate from a precarious stack, loading it with a heaping pile of food ranging from mashed potatoes and stew to colorful vegetables that you havenât seen in ages, not since before the outbreak when you were seven and your dad would make dinner rather than pass you a ration package. Youâre speechless as she hands you the plate with a kind smile, a mumbled thank you the best you can manage to show your gratitude.
Joel is handed a plate as well and you follow him to a table where Ellie sits next to a man with white hair, her plate already empty in front of her. The man looks up at Joel as you approach, his expression closed off and wary.Â
âMichael,â Joel says in greeting, jaw ticking. You take a seat beside Ellie, who to your surprise moves closer to you, arm brushing yours. âYou botherinâ Ellie?â
The man, Michael, shakes his head. âNo, sir. We were just having a little talk.â
âWhat about?â Joel sits on the opposite side of the table. He rips his bread roll in half.Â
âJust some concerns I was having.â
âYou bring your concerns to me. Not to her.â
The two men stare at each other, the tension thick and impossible to ignore. Finally, Michael gets up, leaving the table without another word. Ellieâs shoulderâs lose their tension and Joel catches her eye, the two of them seeming to have an entire conversation in just a look.
The moment passes and Joelâs features relax, a smile tilting the corners of his lips as he returns his attention to you and gestures to your plate.
âDig in,â he says.
Joel walks you back to his home after dinner, the sky now dark. Ellieâs already closed herself in her room by the time the two of you return, having left the mess hall before you had finished eating.Â
âTired again?â Joel asks when you yawn, mouth open wide as you stretch your arms above your head.Â
Your expression is sheepish as you say, âA little bit.â
âThatâs to be expected,â he assures you. âYou fought a hard fight. Itâs okay to relax now. Iâve got you.â
âThank you.â Your fingers tangle in the hem of the t-shirt heâd given you earlier. âI donât know if Iâve said that already.â
âYouâre welcome. Come on, letâs get you back upstairs. You can use the shower and get to bed.â
âOh my god, a shower sounds amazing.â
He shows you the bathroom and helps you get the water running. Once he shows you where to find a towel, you smile gratefully before shutting the door on him.
Dismissed, Joel makes his way to Ellieâs room, knocking on the door. She answers quickly, opening up only enough for him to see her face.
âYeah?â She asks.
âCan I come in?âÂ
She rolls her eyes but opens the door further, allowing him inside. Her room is smaller than his but far more decorated, pages ripped out of old magazines and comic books tacked to the wall. She takes a seat on her single bed, folding her legs beneath her.
âWhat did Michael talk to you about?â He asks. She shrugs her shoulders. Joel bites back a sigh. Sometimes he forgets what it was like to reason with a teenage girl. âEllie.â
âHe saidâ â she pauses, scratching at her wrist in the way that she will when sheâs anxious â âhe said that you were full of shit. That your fucked up ceremony isnât helping any of them.â
Joelâs teeth grind together. âThat all?â
âCalled me a stupid kid for following what you say,â she mumbles. âSaid everyone in town was stupid for believing you.â
âThank you for tellinâ me,â he says. Rage burns in his veins as he turns to leave.Â
âWhat are you gonna do?â Ellie asks as he reaches the door.
âIâm goinâ to teach him a lesson.â
He pulls the door shut behind him, tilting his head against the wood with a sigh. The click of a latch down the hall precedes your quiet, âJoel?â
Joel turns to face you, surprised to find you standing just outside the bathroom door with a towel tucked around your body. Water glistens on your skin in the low light, drawing his eyes down your neck and across your chest. He clears his throat.
âEverythinâ alright?â He asks.Â
âYeah, everything is fine,â you murmur. âIâŚcould I get some new clothes?â
âOf course, shouldâa given you some before you showered. Sorry about that.âÂ
Joel walks past you, entering his bedroom and approaching the dresser. He tugs the top drawer open, full of clothing heâd gathered while youâd been asleep for more than a day. He piles together another t-shirt, sleep pants, and underwear, setting them on the bed for you.Â
Youâre standing in the doorway when he finishes and he fights the urge to go to you, to pull you close, to run his wretched hands over your body like heâs wanted to since he first saw you in the forest.Â
He doesnât, though. Not yet. You still have much to learn.
âHere you go,â he says. âSome more stuff in the drawers for you if you need it.â
Joel leaves you to get ready for bed, shutting the door behind him. He heads downstairs to grab what heâll need, essentials shoved in a bag thrown over his shoulder before venturing off into the night.
Only a few lights continue to illuminate windows as Joel walks through the residential area. The house he approaches at the end of a street is already dark, quiet beyond the wood door that he knocks on three times. The door opens slowly, Michael appearing in the small space.Â
âWhat?â He grunts.
âCome take a walk,â Joel says. Michael rolls his eyes, moving to shut the door but Joelâs boot blocks his effort. âI ainât askinâ, Michael.â
âOh, yeah? What are you going to do?â He challenges. Joel throws his weight against the door, catching Michael by surprise enough for him to step into the house.
Joel throws an elbow into the manâs gut, making him double over with a groan. He circles behind him, kicking the back of his knee to send him to the ground. He pulls a length of chain from his pocket, looping it around Michaelâs neck and pulling the ends.
Michael struggles, clawing at the garotte and thrashing wildly, but Joel holds strong. He tightens his grip further until Michaelâs fight becomes sluggish, lack of oxygen finally causing him to go limp.
Joel releases the chain and Michaelâs body slumps to the ground. He removes his backpack, digging through the contents until he finds a rusted pair of handcuffs that he uses to bind Michaelâs arms behind his back. Next, he places a strip of duct tape over his mouth.
When he wakes, Joel will lead him out past the gate. He will find an unassuming home that rests outside the boundary of Crestone. He will open the hidden doors of the cellar, the ones covered in a layer of leaves and grass. From the darkness he will hear the echo of desperate groans and the rattle of chains and the angry attempts to break free from bindings. He will lead Michael down the dirt steps, the smell of rot and fear and death clawing at his olfactory nerves.Â
He will place a burlap bag over a struggling Michaelâs head and the man will beg and plead in words muffled by tape. Then, Joel will offer him for judgment.
A hand on you shoulder shakes you awake, the room still mostly dark when you manage to open your eyes. You groan, pulling the quilt up over your head.
âCâmon, we gotta get to breakfast,â Ellie says. The cover gets yanked down and she gives you a mischievous grin.Â
âWhereâs Joel?â You ask, sitting up slowly. She shrugs.
âProbably there already.â
You swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand, stretching your arms up. You grab the same jeans and socks from the day before, changing into them quickly and sitting down on the floor to pull your sneakers on. Ellie watches you, her foot tapping impatiently.
âYou can go without me if youâre in a rush,â you offer. She shakes her head.
âIâm fine,â she says quickly. âYou ready?â
âSure.â
You follow her out of the house, her clipped pace difficult to keep up with due to your lingering pain. As the sun starts to rise and you pass by more of the houses, you notice something peculiar about some of them.
âWhatâs that?â You ask, pausing in front of one the houses. Thereâs a streak of what looks like dark red paint across the top of the door. Ellie doubles back and stands beside you.
âProtection,â she says.Â
âFrom what?âÂ
She shifts her weight from foot to foot, uncomfortable with your line of questioning. Rather than answer, she walks away, leaving you to catch up to her or be left behind.
As the two of you start to walk through the square, thereâs a rush of people around you. Shouting can be heard up ahead as a crowd comes into view, gathered around the front of the mess hall building. People press in close together, craning their necks to see over each other and catch a glimpse of whatever spectacle has their attention.
Ellie pushes through the crowd and you follow close on her heels until she manages to break through the other side of the wall of people. You catch glimpses of something writhing on the ground, something animal but not quite, something failed and fetid and foul. Another peek affords you a view of an arm littered with bite marks shaped by blunt teeth, deep gouges into their skin that shine red with blood and fester with disease.
Joel appears, stepping around the side of the building. The whispers cease, the crunch of Joelâs boots and pained groans the only noise to be heard in the stale air.
His dark eyes scan the crowd. People shrink back from his gaze, pressing closer to each other for relief. He reaches down, curling his fingers into the burlap material and yanking it off to reveal a man, familiar and yet not recognizable. Unseeing eyes, ashen skin, and dark red veins now the hallmark characteristics of the man you now remember as the one who had been talking to Ellie in the dining hall.
Joel draws a gun from his back, aiming it at Michaelâs head. âLet this be a lesson,â he says, pulling the trigger.
The shot rings out, making you jump. The agonized sounds come to abrupt halt and his body goes limp, eyes still open as blood blooms on the ground around him.Â
âNo blood spilled. No blood saved,â Joel says. You look up from the horrible scene and meet his hard gaze. You step back, turning and shoving your way through the crowd.
Then, you run.
Youâre frantically shoving clothing into your bag when a door slams downstairs and heavy footsteps climb the stairs at a quick pace. You can feel the burn of Joel's eyes on your back, his presence in the room thick and cloying as you refuse to turn around, even when he murmurs your name.
He moves closer, a hand on your shoulder prompting you to turn to break the connection. He holds his hands up in surrender, taking a step back as he says, "Let me explain."
"Explain? Explain?! How the fuck do you explain that?!" You snap.Â
"If you'll just listen--"
"There's nothing you could possibly say that will--"
"Ellie is immune!" He shouts. Your words die on the tip of your tongue, lost to ether as you stare at Joel.Â
"W-what do you mean? Immune?" You ask.Â
He takes a deep breath. "I told you what my friend said. 'Save who you can save'. The first person I saved was Ellie."
"I helped her out of Boston, kept her safe, nearly lost my life if it meant keepin' her alive," He continues. "That's what I offer here."
"So you think you're....what? Some kind of god? That you can grant immunity?"
He huffs a laugh, the noise devoid of any humor. "God abandoned his worst experiment in their time of need. There is no god anymore, just the poor creatures he left behind. Someone had to take up the mantle."
"But how?"
"The ceremony," he says.Â
"Thatâs not a fucking answer, Joel!â You shout. âWhat fucking ceremony?!â
âBlood spilled for blood saved. You canât make it in this world without givinâ your everythinâ first.â He lifts the bottom of his shirt, just enough to reveal a jagged scar to the right of his belly button, shiny scar tissue disrupting smooth tan skin. âI did this for Ellie. Now everyone else has to do it for themselves.â
âI donâtâŚI donât understand.â You take a small step closer to inspect the wound, raising your hand and reaching out with a tentative touch. Joel inhales sharply as you run your fingers across the puckered flesh.Â
His hand wraps around your wrist, pulling your hand up and holding it against his chest. âItâll be easier to show you, okay? Thereâs a ceremony in a couple days.â
âI donâtââ
âYouâre just afraid because this is somethinâ new, but I promise you that you got nothinâ to be scared of. Iâll take care of you.â He lifts a hand to your face, tilting your chin with his thumb. âI just need you to trust me.â
His eyes are honest, earnest, pleading with you to believe him and the longer you search them, the more truth you seem to find. He will take care of you. You just know it.
âOkay.â
Dinner is served early on the day of the ceremony, the room buzzing with excited conversation. You havenât seen Joel much the last few days, just passing glimpses, and Ellie says itâs because he has a lot to prepare for. Tonight thereâs a woman at his side wearing a white dress that flows to the floor, black hair braided down her back. She smiles at Joel, hanging on every word you canât hear. It makes your stomach clench in a weird way when her hand curls around his bicep and her head leans against his shoulder.
âThatâs Marcy. Sheâs volunteered for the ceremony,â Ellie says. Sheâs sitting across from you, a smirk on her lips. âSâwhy sheâs been hanging around Joel the last few days. Joelâs gotta prepare her.â
âOh,â is all you manage to reply, picking at the vegetables on your plate. âWhat doesâŚwhat does he do? To prepare her.â
She shrugs. âDunno.â
You glance at the pair. Joel leans in close to the woman, whispering into her ear. Your fingernails dig into the meat of your palm, your hands curled into tight fists beneath the table. He stands, a hand on the womanâs shoulder as he calls the people to attention, voices fading until silence envelops the room.Â
âTonight,â Joel says, âanother is to be saved. And we will all bear witness to the gift of deliverance that only self-sacrifice can grant.â
Itâs only a few words, but the power in them is palpable as you glance around the room at the entire town watching him with rapt attention. His eyes meet yours.
âSave who you can save,â he intones. A chill runs down your spine.
âSave who you can save,â the town echoes back.Â
The sun is already low on the horizon, twilight casting a soft glow on the scene. You stand at the back of the crowd, watching as Joel leads Marcy onto a raised wooden platform. Another man joins them, passing something wrapped in cloth into Joelâs outstretched hands.Â
âThe thing about the world today,â Joel says, unwrapping the cloth to reveal a large knife, âis that there ainât a single guarantee.â He looks out over the crowd. âExcept here, within these walls. Why? Because here youâll make the greatest sacrifice and earn the greatest reward.â
He begins to pace the length of the platform, knife in hand. âGivinâ your blood in exchange for your safety? That doesnât sound so bad, right?â The people around you nod their heads in agreement. âYouâve seen what that sacrifice can do. I did it for Ellie. I did it for myself. And tonightââ he places a hand on Marcyâs shoulder ââanother has made the choice to earn that gift of protection.â
A cheer erupts, spreading through the crowd through shouts and applause. You find yourself joining them, clapping your hands together as you continue to watch Joel.Â
âMarcy,â Joel says. âWhat brings you here today?â
âNo blood spilled, no blood saved,â she recites dutifully.Â
âAre you afraid?â He asks.
âNo,â she says.
âWhy?â
âBecause I trust in your protection.â
Joel smiles at her, beaming with pride, and that knot in your stomach from earlier returns with a vengeance. You want him to look at you like that.
He stands in front of her, blocking her from view with his body. A hush falls over the crowd and from the silence erupts an anguished scream. You flinch, the sound piercing and painful and petrifying, though it seems to have taken nobody else by surprise.
Another scream as he jerks his arm back, the knife in his hand now stained with red that slides down the blade, dripping to the wood beneath his feet. He steps to the side and you can see the woman now, her hands pressed to her belly. Crimson blooms beneath her hands, marring her pretty white dress and leaching the color and vitality from her face. She drops to her knees and so does Joel, who wraps an arm around her shoulders and gently guides her until sheâs lying on her back. He holds her hand and smooths her hair from her face as she just repeats, âThank you.â
Slowly, the strength in her voice fades. Her arm goes limp in his grasp, dropping to the floor with a dull thud as her eyes flutter shut. Joel whistles sharply, three men rushing up the platform and lifting the girl into their arms, careful not to jostle her too much. Joel remains kneeling, his head turning to scan the crowd.
âWe are born covered in blood,â he says. âIt gives you protection from the outside world when youâre wrenched from the womb. And it will protect you now as it is wrenched from you.â
He steps off the platform and walks past the crowd, heading for the residential street. Everyone shuffles forward, moving en masse like sheep following their shepherd or cattle to the slaughter. Youâre led to one of the smaller homes and you watch as Joel smooths the flat of the blade across his hand, gathering blood in his palm.Â
He places his palm on the door, smearing the blood across the faded blue paint. When heâs done, he turns to face the crowd.
âMarcy has earned her protection. Those of you among us that have not yet made your sacrifice, may you return home this eveninâ and realize that each passinâ day is a wasted opportunity for your salvation.â His serious expression softens as he smiles. âNo blood spilled.â
âNo blood saved,â the crowd says.
To your surprise, the words fall easily from your lips.
Joel shuts the door quietly behind him. Heâs just finished checking on Marcy and was pleased to find that her wound has been dressed and sheâs recovering well. At the kitchen sink he runs the water as hot as he can tolerate and scrubs his hands clean.
He can hear faint footsteps upstairs, the sound of your pacing back and forth in his bedroom. Heâs pleased that you stayed through the entire ceremony, didnât run away filled with fear or disgust like you had watching him make an example out of Michael.Â
Thereâs hope for you yet.
Joel dries his hands on a towel and heads upstairs. He glances at Ellieâs room out of habit, though he knows itâs empty. She likes to help out after the ceremony, usually sticking beside the town nurse, Shelly, as she monitors the person who participated in the ceremony over night.Â
The door to his bedroom is shut but he can see that the light is on, the glow of it seeping out from the gap beneath the door. He knocks, three sharp raps of his knuckles, and waits.
You pull the door open, and Joel is once again struck by how much he wants you, how much heâs craved you since the first time he saw you. You look up at him with wide eyes but he doesnât sense any fear as you pull the door open further and step back to let him enter.
âYou doinâ okay?â He asks, shutting the door quietly behind him. Youâre standing with your arms wrapped around yourself, nodding quietly. Joel moves closer, tentatively reaching out to tilt your chin up so that heâs looking into your eyes. âTalk to me.â
âIâŚ.,â your voice trails off. You take a breath. âI want that protection.â
He was hoping you would say that. Relief floods through him.
âI canât do that,â he says. Your brows pinch together, hurt flashing across your features. âI wonât have your blood on my hands.â
âButââ
âListen to meââ his hands frame your face, thumbs smoothing over the high points of your cheeks ââyouâre meant for somethinâ different here.â
âSomething different?â You repeat. You shake your head slightly. âI donât understand.â
âFrom the moment I saw you, I knew I couldnât let you lose a drop,â he whispers. âYou donât need to bleed, sweetheart. Not like them. Iâll protect you myself.â
Your mouth drops open the slightest bit, drawing Joelâs gaze. He slides his thumb across your bottom lip, mesmerized by the softness of it. Thereâs not much about his life the last twenty or so years that he would call soft.
There was his brother, Tommy, even though they couldnât see eye to eye and had to part ways. His daughter, Sarah, before the outbreak. She took care of him, made sure he took his vitamins and packed his lunch and didnât miss a parent-teacher conference. She was light and joy, his heart outside of his body, and she was ripped from his grasp.
There was Tess, who was not a soft person but was a soft place to land among the carnage. Bill, ornery though he was, and Frank, arguably his better half. They were a breath of normalcy, even when Bill had a gun trained on him. Ellie, once she quit being a pain in the ass and wormed her way into his heart with her promise to follow him wherever he went.
And now there was you.
âWill you let me do that?â Joel asks. âProtect you?â
You lift your hands, delicate fingers wrapping around his wrists. He wonders if you can feel the rapid beat of his heart, his pulse pounding beneath your grip. Finally, after a long moment, you whisper, âYes.â
Joel captures your lips with his, swallowing your gasp of surprise. Youâre tentative, a bit clumsy with your movements as you kiss back and he pulls away, leaning his forehead to yours.
âI-Iâm sorry,â you murmur. âIâve neverââ
âDonât worry, baby, Iâll take care of you.â
âDonât worry, baby, Iâll take care of you.â
While his words donât stop your pulse from racing, they do calm your nerves the slightest bit. Itâs not that youâve never been interested in sex, there was just never a good opportunity. Going through puberty in an apocalypse where a militant government faction monitors your every move in exchange for basic necessities wasnât exactly conducive to forming intimate relationships.Â
While youâre lost in your thoughts, Joel moves you backwards until your legs hit the mattress and he urges you to sit down. He kneels in front of you, working on the laces of your sneakers, removing them and setting them to the side. He looks up at you as he removes your socks and youâre not sure if you're supposed to find the sight of him kneeling at your feet as sexy as you do, but a rush of warmth rolls through you all the same.
He runs his palms up your legs, across your thighs, until his fingertips find the waist of your jeans, popping the button of the fly and pulling the zipper down.Â
âLift your hips a bit, sweetheart,â he says, working the denim down and off your legs, tossing them aside. His hands return to your thighs, goosebumps erupting along their path to your hips.Â
âNo oneâs touched you here?â He asks, here being the soft skin of your inner thigh that his thumbs sweep across. You shake your head. He moves higher, a featherlight touch over the elastic of your underwear that makes you gasp. âWhat about here?â
âN-no,â you manage to whisper. He smiles at you, the same proud smile heâd given Marcy that you were so desperate to have for yourself.Â
âGood girl,â he murmurs. He kisses the inside of your knee quickly before sitting up higher, reaching up to lift your shirt up, tugging it over your head and dropping it onto the growing pile of your clothing.
âLie back for me,â Joel commands. You shift up the mattress and follow his instruction, bringing your arms up to cover your exposed breasts. He makes a dissatisfied click with his tongue, pulling your arms away as he crawls up the mattress to settle between your legs.
âNone of that,â he admonishes, planting your hands by your head. He kisses your lips again, butterflies erupting in your stomach when his tongue tangles with yours, hot and demanding. He palms one of your breasts, hands rough on the delicate skin. âThis is mine, do you understand?â
Joel brings his mouth to your breast, tongue swirling over your stiff nipple. You cry out, the foreign sensation making more heat rush through you, leaving you throbbing between your thighs. He looks up at you through his lashes as he sucks your nipple between his lips, releasing it with a lewd pop.
âMine to touch,â he says, leaning on one arm to trail his fingers down your stomach. âMine to kiss.â His lips trace the same heated path. âMine to protect.â
When he reaches your underwear, he pulls back. âLook at that,â he murmurs, thumb rubbing across the gusset, making you whimper and squirm. âYouâve soaked your panties, sweetheart.â
Your face feels hot with embarrassment. ââM sorry,â you mumble.
âSorry? Ainât nothinâ you need to be sorry about,â he says with a chuckle. He sits up, working your only remaining barrier between you down your legs. He spreads your legs with his hands on your thighs. âGoddamn, you look so pretty, baby.â
âReally?â You ask. His answering grin is wolfish.Â
âSo pretty,â he repeats. He settles on his belly, face so close to your pussy you can feel the warmth of his breath against your heated flesh. âGotta get you ready.â
Your response to the question is cut off with a high pitched moan as Joel runs his tongue through your folds, circling your clit with broad strokes. You try to close your legs against the sensation but his strong hands keep your thighs pinned down near the mattress.
He groans as he sets a slow and measured pace, alternating attention to your clit with dipping his tongue inside of you, dragging your essence from the source. Your hands clench in the sheets, chasing and retreating from the overwhelming sensation in equal measure.
Thereâs a blunt pressure that turns into a slight pinch as Joel slips a finger into your tight heat. Your head tilts back with a high keening noise and youâre panting, desperate for breath as he moves his hand in tandem with his tongue.
One finger becomes two that thrust and curl and part inside of you, stretching you in unfamiliar ways. It feels good, and all you want is more, more, more.
Joelâs hand moves quickly and he sucks on your clit, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bundle of nerves until that flood of relief that youâve only accomplished a handful of times on your own washes over you, your back arching sharply off the mattress as you shout his name like a prayer to the heavens.
His motions slow to a stop and he leaves the bed. You hear the clink of a belt and the rustle of clothing being removed before his weight returns between your legs, a new heat to be felt against your flushed skin with his clothes no longer in the way. With shaky hands you reach up to touch him, starting at his shoulders.
You trail your hands across his warm tan skin, down his hard chest and softer belly. That scar, the one that frightened you before, leaves you breathless as you run your fingers over it now. Heâs so strong, so powerful, and he wants you. Wants to protect you so that you donât know that same pain.
âJoel,â you whisper. He leans forward, hands on the mattress beside your head. He kisses you, slow and all encompassing. You can feel the hard length of his sliding through the mess heâs made of you and you gasp.
âLet me make one thing clear,â he says, face serious, âthere ainât any goinâ back from this. Youâre mine. You got that?â
âI trust you,â you reply. Your response earns you a deep groan from the man, a kiss to your forehead that precedes the blunt head of his cock pressing to your soaked entrance.
His cock is thicker, much thicker, than his fingers were and you whine at the intrusion. His shushes you, peppering your face with soothing kisses.Â
âI donât thinkââ
âYouâre doinâ so good, sweetheart, I know you can handle it,â Joel says. âTake a deep breath, just a little more.â
Tension gives way, a sharp pinch that turns into an ache as Joel presses his hips firmly against yours. He kisses your neck and trails his nose across your sweat damp skin, holding still as you adjust to his girth.
You shift your hips the slightest bit and Joelâs moan echoes your gasp. âTell me I can move,â he begs, another desperate kiss pressed to your lips. âPlease, baby.â
Thereâs something heady about the power you have in this brief moment, a man like Joel begging you for something when heâs used to having everything. You nod and thatâs all the encouragement he needs to draw back slowly, that fullness leaving you inch by inch, before thrusting sharply.
Itâs unlike any experience youâve had before â the way his body moves with yours, the flex of his muscles above you, the intense look in his eyes each time he presses inside of you.
âMade for me,â he murmurs. âMine.â
âYours,â you agree, moaning as each drag of his cock presses against a tender spot inside of you that has your stomach tightening rapidly.
His effort doubles, hips slamming hard enough to make the headboard bang against the wall. You dig your nails into his back, watch the clench of his jaw against the sting, and moan his name as you succumb to the feeling of free falling into bliss, clenching around his cock.
âThatâs it, sweetheart, fuck,â he growls, hips stilling against yours as warmth pulses inside of you, his mouth dropped open on a groan of your name.
Joel takes a moment to catch his breath before withdrawing from you. He reaches his hand between your legs, pressing his fingers into your swollen pussy as you gasp.
He holds those fingers up, the light catching on the red staining them.
Perhaps youâd spilled blood for your safety after all.
You wake to the early morning light filtering through the window, a noticeable ache between your legs as you begin to stir. Youâre naked, having fallen asleep in Joelâs arms last night, his lips caressing your neck until youâd drifted off and dreamt of blood and wolves. You stretch your limbs, encountering only cold sheets as you do.
As you sit up, you realize the sound of rushing water is the shower and surmise that Joel must be in there. With stiff movements you leave the warmth of the bed and approach the dresser, tugging open the top drawer to find clothing for the day.
Youâre reaching for underwear when your fingers catch on something cold, metal in a sea of fabric. You pull on the object, unearthing it from its hiding spot and holding it up for inspection.
A cross, hanging from a silver chain. A chain you would tangle your fingers in as a child, a cross that a thumb would rub across as a deep, familiar voice muttered prayers.
The shower turns off and you take one last look at the crucifix before setting it back into the dark corner youâd unearthed it from.
Then, you shut the drawer.Â
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morning, baby;
content warnings/tags: nsfw, contains smut, nipple play, choking (slightly), sex on the kitchen countertop, joel miller x f!reader.
You wake up to the smell of coffee drifting up the stairs and roll over onto your back with a groan as the sun shines on your eyes. You smile when you hear Joel downstairs making breakfast for the two of you, it's just so blissfully domestic. You stretch your whole body as you give a satisfied sigh, then grab the nearest item of clothing, which just happens to be Joel's denim shirt from the day before. You yawn as you slip it on, carelessly fastening enough buttons up so you're not completely exposed and make your way downstairs.
You make a beeline for the coffee machine, eyes still tired and mind still sleepy, you really needed some caffeine to wake you up. You put your mug under the spout, press the button and yawn while stretching again, with your arms up in the air, when warm hands gently snake around your waist from behind you. "Hey, that's my shirt," Joel teases, his already deep voice even deeper in the morning. He peppers kisses on the back of your neck; you can't help but smile as he pushes the collar of the shirt to the side a little with his nose so he can trail his lips across your shoulders. "Morning, baby," he whispers between kisses.
When he presses up behind you nice and close, his sweatpants leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. "How do you look so beautiful right when you wake up, hmm? " He asks in a low voice, nearly a growl. He's such a sweet talker, you giggle despite yourself. He traces kisses along the bone of your shoulder while cupping your breasts. You smile at his actions, leaning into his hands and melting into his touch, "You're right, you're so lucky, babe," you say playfully, turning your head to kiss him on the cheek. He hums in your ear in response, nipping at the sensitive skin behind it, grinding his hard on into your ass at the same time.
"Mmm, someone's frisky this morning," you say, cupping his face with your hand. His hands slide into the open front of the shirt to grab onto one of your breasts, while the other wraps loosely around your throat. You inhale sharply, gripping the countertop hard when Joel pinches your nipple sharply between his thumb and pointer finger, his hand flexing against your throat. You both knew exactly where this was going, you make a low keening noise in your chest with need. Before you could react, he picks you up by the waist and spins you around, dropping you on the opposite kitchen counter.
You gasp as the cold, hard surface touches the heated skin on the back of your thighs. He places himself in between your spread legs and claims your lips into a heated kiss as you wrap both legs around his waist and grab his thick hair with both hands. He scratches his blunt nails down the length of your back, making you moan into his mouth. Joel's poor shirt doesn't stand a chance as he pulls apart both sides of the shirt you're wearing, you could hear buttons bouncing somewhere in the distance. He dips his head down to kiss on each of your now pebbled nubs as his hands explore every part of your exposed body. Being as in love with your nipples as he was, he goes right back to lick your right nipple while rubbing his thumb back and forth over your left one - occasionally giving it a little pinch - before putting his whole mouth over it to suck on and run his tongue across it. He does this while alternating the actions between the two nipples, paying equal attention to both.
You whimper, body vibrating with desire, as you grip his hair harder. Both of his hands then grab your hips, pulling you forward roughly to the edge of the counter. He pulls his sweats down and brings himself closer to you, teasing your lips with his tip, causing you to shiver. You could tell he's worked up by the way his eyes are serious and focused, concentrated on the pleasure. Before you could even draw a breath in, he buries himself into you to the hilt. Never truly getting used to the sheer size of his dick, you gasp but quickly sigh happily at the feeling, your head thrown back as Joel's lips are on your shoulder, nipping and sucking your skin.
He starts with a deep and harsh pace, thrusting slow, but hard enough to make you jerk forward, gasping with your mouth agape. Your moans get louder as he kisses your collarbone and makes his way up your neck to your jawline, making you clench around him on his next harsh thrust. Joel lets out a groan so deep, it makes you somehow even more turned on than you already were. Searing heat and urgency coursing through your veins, you use your hand on the kitchen counter as leverage and start to thrust back against Joel, meeting his hips with your own.
You're over the moon with pleasure when he angles his thrusts to better hit your sweet spot. The first time he does this, your hand goes from gripping his hair to fisting the front of his t-shirt, twisting the fabric so hard you could rip it. With the pounding of Joel's hips at that angle, you can feel the coil deep in your stomach starting to tighten. You could tell he was just as close as you were, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. His face is flushed, biting his bottom lip with his eyes screwed shut and his forehead wrinkled with concentration, he looked so beautiful in this moment.
His hips start to stutter, desperately chasing his own high as he takes you. You tighten around him, coaxing his orgasm while lost in the pleasure yourself. When he gives a final, sharp thrust, you moan as the orgasm washes over you, your whole body quivering as he stills with a deep grunt. You're both breathing heavily still holding onto each other and your legs still wrapped around his waist. âI think itâs safe to say that weâve worked up an appetite, baby,â Joel laughs, still slightly panting, "You're going to love the spread of breakfast I made you." Yup, domestic bliss indeed.
#joel miller smut#pedro pascal smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller#pedro pascal#the last of us#tlou#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal drabble#pedro pascal imagine#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller fluff#joel miller self insert#joel miller age gap#pedro pascal writing#joel miller blurb#the last of us smut#joel miller imagine#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal one shot#joel miller pedro pascal
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Too Sweet
Dbf!Joel Miller x College!Reader
A/n: hey guys so i may or may not take a writing break (i know i said i was gonna write more but like) the stress of all the nazi shits that keep plaguing my comment sections on every post i make, regardless if itâs political or not is making me wanna tear my head off⌠so I might just go away a while.
Warnings: fluff, awkward mentions of past relationships, dbf!joel, smut, piv (unprotected), so much teasing. Itâs actually pretty cute guys.
Is anyone at all surprised by the song choice? Hozier has us all in a headlock rn⌠also this is dedicated to my favorite joel writer @macfrog bc sheâs just amazing and you should read her work.
MASTERLIST
âBabygirl,â he breathed, pulling back but not away, his face still inches from your own. You could clearly see his blown pupils and focused expression. âGet upstairs.â Though you wanted to tease him, wanted to quip back a quiet âor what?â, you needed him just as much, and you werenât going to be told twice.Â
âDates are a bad idea,â you reminded him, handing over another nail from the box in your hands.
A last minute kitchen Island was added to the kitchenâs floor plan on the current house the team had been working on, so now it was up to yourself and Joel to make that happen. Well, it was up to Joel to make that happen, and it was up to you to stand by and watch him.Â
âI know, sâjust,â he shook his head, hammering the nail down and holding his hand up for another. âI donât get the whole thing these days where relationships are built on hookups.â
Your lips turned up in a smile. He was an old fashioned guy, with old fashioned ideals about love and dating and relationships. It was sweet, albeit a little obnoxious. You rather liked hooking up with him, however little it may be.
âWhere would we even go?â you saw how on the first hit, the nail went crooked, so you handed him another before he even reached.Â
âI donât know, hadnât thought that far.â
You had to laugh at that.Â
âYou wanna take me on a date but you donât know where we would go?âÂ
âWell,â he finished the last nail then stood up next to you, scratching the back of his neck. âThis ainât exactly an easy situation, we got your old man to avoid.â
Very reasonable, but sort of an obvious point by now. This entire thing started based on the fact that: you know each other because of your father, as in, they are each otherâs closest friend. Pair that with one man hooking up with the otherâs daughter, it becomes a disaster waiting to happen⌠except for he doesnât see it that way, and neither do you.Â
You sighed, looking around to make sure everyone was still outside with the boss. Joel had just wiped his forehead on his arm to rid himself of the sweat, and you could see the tension in his muscles from the work he just finished. You stepped up to him and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close enough to peck his lips once.Â
âIf you can find a place where we won't get caught, then Iâd love to go on a date with you.âÂ
He smiled, kissing you again. He had wanted to tell you he was too sweaty for hugs right now, but as soon as you wrapped yourself around him, those thoughts suddenly left his mind. You just fit so well against him, he wonders how he never realized.Â
-
He was even older than you thought. Not actually, but this man had decided on a date location, and as you were pulling in, the things packed into the backseat started to make sense.Â
âDrive In movies?â You shouldnât be surprised, the guy is practically a fossil, he even texts like he's still got a flip phone.
âYour dadâs never taken you here?â He chuckled, pulling into the line at the front.Â
âNo,â you laughed, leaning back in your seat as the cars ahead moved up.Â
âGood, then we wonât run into him.âÂ
You reached and grabbed his hand over the center console. He always gave two little squeezes before readjusting his grip, rubbing his thumb on the center of your palm. It was sweet, comforting.Â
He rolled down his window and paid the attendant in the booth, just a kid, probably still in high-school⌠but he certainly had an attitude on him, given the nasty glare he served Joel after making eye-contact with you. Joel had never let go of your hand, the kid knew he wasnât your dad.Â
âWhatâd you tell him, anyway?â He asked, driving off towards the lot on the opposite side of the land. The big screen was not even rolling the trailers yet.Â
âHm?âÂ
âYour dad,â he seemed almost shy about mentioning your dad in front of you, in this context. How did you lie to him this time? But he knew what he was doing, what heâd been doing and still plans on doing.Â
âTold âim I was gonna go shopping with a friend, that I may or may not sleep over.â
He raised an eyebrow and smirked, never taking his eyes off the road. He pulled into a spot in the very back corner, where it was likely to remain empty the entire duration of the movie.Â
âOh did you, now?âÂ
You turned a light shade of pink at admitting to him you wanted to sleep over⌠not like it was a new occurrence, but you hadnât really asked him yet.Â
âI didnât tell him for sure, I know Sarah-â
âSarahâs with Tommy at a concert in Dallas,â he said, unbuckling his seat belt and turning off the engine. âText your dad, let him know that friend of yours is keepinâ you till tomorrow.â
He got out of the truck, walking around the front to open your door, holding his hand out to help you down. Ever the gentleman.Â
âThank you, kind sir,â you teased, walking around the backseat door and helping him unload the piles of blankets heâd managed to stuff in. The man practically emptied the top shelf of his linen closet for this.Â
âAnything for you, Mâlady.âÂ
He ended up taking almost everything into his arms, letting you carry one pillow and a single blanket towards the back of the truck. Normally it was all dusty and gross, proof of the work it helped him do. You wouldnât even have noticed, because you donât often pay attention to the state of other peopleâs truck beds, but he had cleaned the whole thing out, making it look as if heâd just brought it home from the dealership⌠minus the odds and ends of dents from his toolbox and timber.Â
âWhatâs playinâ?â You nodded up to the screen as he took the pillows and blankets, tossing them across the truck bed to make a cozy little area for the two of you.Â
âItâs uhâŚâ he reached into his pocket, checking the nightly double stubs. âJaws and E.T., itâs a Spielberg double feature.â
You donât remember telling him that Spielberg was your favorite director, but maybe he was just already at that place where he could read your mind⌠or maybe it was just a coincidence and he thought that the throwback double feature at the drive in would be fun. Either way, he hit the nail right on the head.Â
âSounds good to me.âÂ
When everything was settled just the way he wanted, he turned to you, his hand out towards the blankets. âAfter you, darlin.â
You tried to step up on the tailgate, but your foot slipped for how high it was.Â
âWant me to give you a toss?â He joked, but you rolled your eyes at him. You would not be acquiring his help after that joke.Â
âIâll be just fine, thank you.âÂ
It may have been embarrassing, but like hell you were gonna give into him, his chuckles of amusement under his breath as you slowly and steadily climbed up by yourself. It was much harder to grab onto the dip in the bed when there were so many blankets spread out. Eventually you made it up, collapsing onto your back into the mound of bedding.Â
âFirst try,â you raised a fist in the air, looking back to him to see his amusement had not ended and he was smiling wide where he stood, arms crossed and brows raised when your eyes met. âYou cominâ?â
And as easily as he could walk, he used the ridge along the underside of the tailgate to climb up over on the side, sitting down next to you and giving you a light hearted side eye. âSee how easy that was?âÂ
âOh yeah, sure. You must be so proud, youâre a pro at climbing into your own truck.â
He laughed, laying back beside you. âBaby, I think anyone looks like a pro compared to you.â
âMaybe Iâm just more athletically inclined, wanted to take the long way,â you chided, sitting up onto your elbows and looking over at him. The trailers had started running, and the light was hitting his features so nicely. He looked so nice. You could argue that he always did. At work when he was a sweaty mess, he looked real good then, too.
âIâm sure thatâs it.âÂ
He settled against the pillows, nodding his head upwards for you to join him. He brought you near with open arms, one that settled under your shoulder and the other that settled on your waist. Youâd tucked your head under his chin, feeling him rest his head on top of yours.Â
You both had fucked around, sure⌠but this was a little slice of heaven right here. No amount of sneaking around or giving each other temporary pleasure beat the simplicity of laying next to one another, breathing in each otherâs air, and being on a date. A real one. It wasn't a hasty exchange built upon needing to get off, but a choice to spend genuine time together, in which you receive nothing but the pleasure of one's company.
You couldnât remember the last time you went on a date. Joel was right, hookup culture had become too strong in this day and age. It stands to reason that you havenât actually slept with anyone in a while. You like being asked out, but guys your age donât exactly want to give you that satisfaction. Joel asked you out. Sure, he fucked you silly on the stretch of his fingers only a week ago⌠but he still asked you out.
Jaws ended sooner than you thought it would. Back when you were a kid, and afraid of sharks, it seemed much longer of a movie. There was a lull between it and E.T., assuming the kid working in the projection tower had to change out the film roll himself. It made for a sweet and quiet conversation that sparked up as soon as the credits rolled.Â
âYou bring a lot of girls here?âÂ
He rolled his eyes and shook his head, even though it was meant as a teasing question.Â
âNah,â he said anyway, turning a bit more to face you. âUsually, I donât have to hide from my girlfriendâs dads. Not since highschool, anyway.â
You almost didnât catch it. His use of the word girlfriend, which subtly implied thatâs what you were⌠but you werenât one to assume, or at least, not with Joel and the risky business of your relationship. You laced your hand with his between your bodies, looking down at his fingers while you did your best to recover the conversation without acting awkward.Â
âThe more I think about it, Iâm not so sure my dad would be angry.â
Joel wished he had the mindset to think that way.Â
âYou kiddinâ me? If your dad found out Iâd been messin with his only daughter, Iâd get his shotgun to my head.âÂ
A laugh escaped your lips, but you shook your head.Â
âYouâre not just messin with me, thoughâŚâÂ
At least, you hoped he wasnât. Of all things that could be said about you and Joel, it was that you had already gotten attached. Already been to a place where you miss seeing him at work every day when you go home. Miss talking to him and learning more about his life, and having him listen about yours. There have been so many people in your life who told you that you talk too much, or that you never shut up. But Joel never has. He listens, and heâs happy to. Youâd hate to lose that one day and never get it back.
âNo,â he lifted your chin so youâd meet his eyes again. âIâm not just messin with ya.â
You held his stare for a moment, neither of you leaned in. It was just a nice moment, to look at one another, and to appreciate what you saw. A moment to see that hey, Joel has little flecks of gold in the brown of his eyes. A little moment for when you get sad that he isnât around, that way you can remember how he looks at you when he is around. Itâs something mixed with longing and contentment. Two opposites that somehow come together on his features and tell you more than his words could ever say.Â
âGood,â you finally replied. âIn any case, my dad wonât shoot ya. I think he loves you too much.â
He laughed, the low rumble vibrated through his chest, and you felt it against your joined hands.
âYou donât suppose I could woo him over too, huh?âÂ
âI donât think your charm would sway him as easily.â
âOh I got charm, now?â
âNo, not really⌠nice ass, though,â you giggled, and he playfully shoved your arm back, causing you to fall into a fit of laughter on your back. âJust beinâ honest, mister.â
âI see how it is,â he pulled you back in with a swift move of his arm. âOnly want me for my body.â
âWhat can I say? Iâm a modern woman in a modern world.â
âSâall the same to me, whatever gets you to agree to a date with me. Still canât believe you didâŚâÂ
He says it half jokingly. You know he doesnât see himself as desirable. Even though heâs in the prime of his life and is quite literally one of the finest men this town has to offer, he looks at the obstacles. He works too often, has a teenage daughter, he doesnât look the way he used to, some people find him incredibly boring⌠but only the worst people.Â
âJoel, I'm lucky to be on a date with you.âÂ
âYeah, sure⌠sânot like you ainât got a hundred guys your age lining up behind me to-â
You kissed him. He was not going to be permitted to speak if he was not going to say nice things about himself, a new rule you were establishing. He didnât seem to care much for the rest of his sentence after you pulled away, the words slipping from his mind the second your lips touched his.Â
âI like you,â you told him, making your intentions very clear to him. You werenât just messing around, either. âYou treat me better than all those shitheads, anyway.â
-
Youâd been passing in and out of consciousness on the drive home. Youâd been up since the crack of dawn this morning, the neighborâs dog barking incessantly. Youâre sure Joel heard it too, unless of course heâd been laying on his good ear, the bad one would have canceled out all the noise.Â
The streetlights go by in waves over your eyes, lids closed lightly after each time they flutter. You were curled so sweetly into the passenger seat of Joelâs truck, finding such comfort in the place. Youâd have thought it was where you spent most of your time. His hand was on the edge of your knee the whole drive, rubbing small circles over the area.Â
By the time you both had gotten home, you had to scan the yard for signs that your dad may be in the near vicinity. He was usually never home on a Friday night, unless there was a Rangers game or if he had company. It made sense that his car was gone when you both pulled up.Â
âYou text him, yet?âÂ
You shook your head, pulling your phone out of your back pocket and completing the task meant for three hours ago.Â
âItâs only ten, he might be at the bar, still.â
You didnât over explain anything in your message, no need to make him question your thoroughness. Just something simple and quick.Â
Staying over at Amyâs, Iâll be back before lunch. Drive safe.
But then you immediately deleted the last part. Because how would you know heâs still out?Â
Joel had cut the engine, getting out and walking around to meet you at your door, except youâd already opened it and stepped out yourself.
He gave you an unserious look that feigned offense.Â
âHey now,â he settled his hands on his hips, the sass evident in his voice. âWeâre still on a date, miss. Iâm supposed to get the door.âÂ
You knew he wasnât really upset, but you found it funny pretending as if he was.
âModern woman in a modern world, remember?âÂ
âYeah,â he waved you off, shutting your door and taking your hand as you both walked up to the front door. âWhat all does that entail, anyhow? Beinâ a modern woman?â
You smiled, watching him take his damn time with the keys. He knew exactly what he was doing.
âWell, since achieving the vote, weâve made quite a bit of ground. I donât know if youâve noticed, but weâre allowed to work with you guys, now.â
âAh⌠how did I miss that?âÂ
âWerenât looking hard enough. We also get to wear pants now, so I can see why youâre confused.âÂ
And once the door was open, he lazily slung an arm around you to let you inside. Ladies first and all that. He didnât actually respond to your last comment until you were both in the entry hall, door closed.Â
âShame, I kinda like you without pants,â he hovered in close, partially teasing but otherwise just to get his body nearer to yours. The heat between you blossomed, and it could easily be sensed on both sides since leaving the truck.Â
âMister Joel Miller, don't you know the best part of a modern woman?âÂ
He raised his eyebrows, his head shaking once and eyes rolling over. Just say it already.
âWe can ask any man we want to take our pants off.â
There was barely a second between your words and the speed of his lips meeting yours. It was different from the kisses at the drive in, now it was harsh and hungry. A stark contrast to the softness and the serenity. This was clouded by lust, by the human need to devour.
Joel was not gentle by nature. He was often brutish in his work and day to day. There were few people who genuinely saw him gentle. Sarah, Tommy, your dad, and you, his other side neighbors, and Carol, the lady who takes Sarah to school when he canât. Maybe not in that exact order, but that was the list nonetheless.
Youâd always seen him gentle, so the moment he backs you into the door, your back slamming on the painted wood, something stirs. You liked Joel how you knew him⌠but maybe there was other unexplored territory to delve into.Â
âJoel,â you whined out on the end of a breath. His name falling from your mouth was always how he preferred to hear it, but under this context had to be his favorite.
âBaby,â he trailed his kisses to your cheek, then jaw, then neck, resting in the crook of your shoulder and seemingly finding a home there. Your hands dove through his hair, tugging ever so gently and feeling the vibrations on your skin as a repercussion. His hands never found a resting place, running up and down your sides, every few seconds reaching down for a feel of your ass. He seemed to like yours, too.Â
When the arousal became too much, you tried your luck at rolling against him. The sound he made alone would have been enough for you to know how badly he wanted you, but the feel of him through his jeans was a physical show of it. He gets hard so fast for you.Â
âBabygirl,â he breathed, pulling back but not away, his face still inches from your own. You could clearly see his blown pupils and focused expression. âGet upstairs.â
Though you wanted to tease him, wanted to quip back a quiet âor what?â, you needed him just as much, and you werenât going to be told twice.Â
He watched you from behind, taking the stairs two at a time until you reached the top. You nearly tripped over the last stair, but before you could go toppling over, his arm around your waist stopped you dead in your place.Â
âSo damn clumsy,â he shook his head, the edge of a smirk forming. He tapped your hip with his free hand, getting you to move forward again until you got to his door. âCanât get in a truck, canât climb stairsâŚâ
Now that heâd teased you first, you felt you had a small bit of free reign to mess with him. He was still gonna have you, but why make things so boring? You stared at the handle, gripping it, but making no move to twist it and open the door.Â
âDoorknob too much for you, too?â
You narrowed your eyes over your shoulder, where he was lingering closely. You could feel him pressed against your backside, the arousal evident in every breath he took, but he was still having fun with his little pokes of annoyance at you.
âI think I remember a rule about your room being off limitsâŚâ You trailed, cheekily smiling at him before he reached around you and opened the door himself. He held out his hand with a cocky raised brow, and waited for you to step in.Â
âLadies donât always have to go first, yâknow. Sâall part of-â
âBeinâ a modern woman, I know.â
But still you went in first, taking a few steps backward until your knees hit the edge of the bed and caused you to sit. You tilted your head at him, still leaning in the doorway, his hand on the frame above his head and his other hand still steadily on his hip. Whatâs he waiting for?âÂ
âI ainât gonna wait all night, cowboyâŚâÂ
He chuckled, shaking his head and slowly coming forward. For someone so eager, he was taking his sweet time.Â
âYouâre cute,â he gently pushed you back into the mattress, crawling one arm at a time over your form. âBut something tells me that you would wait all night.â
He leaned down and met your lips with his, feeling your hands climb from the bed, to his shoulders, then to the sides of his face. He loved the feeling of your hands on him. Loved the way that with each pass of your skin against his, you began to learn the feeling of him as well. With one hand still supporting himself, his other raked down your side, then up over your middle, hugging the curves of your stomach, the stretch of your ribcage, and the gentle peaks of your breasts. He stopped there, paying mindful attention according to every sound you made, every groan of approval, or whimper of satisfaction. It was all he could hear, and became his instruction on how to touch you.Â
You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him closer between them, trying to spur on the friction that would give you relief. Joel knew the signs of your arousal clearly by now, but there was still ground for him to cover.Â
âGettinâ so needy already, baby.â
His murmur against your mouth was interrupted. You whined at the loss of his lips, but were quieted in a moment when his hands trails downwards. He knelt one knee between your legs, the other still on the ground. He lifted behind your knees and gave a quick shove to drive you further up his mattress. His next move was to go for your shorts, given the fact theyâd been causing him to mentally strain himself all evening.Â
âGotta get these damn things off,â he said.
They went flying to the floor, and then he had to stop a minute. With your knees raised, either side of his hips, he had the most ethereal view of your soaked underwear, a dark and increasingly wet stain against the soft blue cotton. When you noticed how long heâd stopped to enjoy the scenery, you grabbed his hand on your knee.Â
âJoel, please-â
âI know, babygirl.â
And he didnât make you beg for it. Not like the silly college boys would, and have in the past. He sunk down on the ground by his bed, leaning over on his elbows, hooking them under your legs again before pulling himself inward. He kissed over the wet fabric, hooking his fingers underneath it at your sides and slowly sliding them off.Â
Your hands found his hair and your mouth parted in a shaking breath. The slow contact he made was like sweet torture. Your skin arose goosebumps under his touch, agonizingly slow and increasingly annoying, given your absolute need for him.Â
âNeed you⌠Joel I canât- fuck.â
He kept it slow, but he licked upward, meeting your clit in devastating motions. You needed more, and as if he read your mind, his first finger was brought down and inserted to your seeping entrance. Your cries of approval met her ears like a happy melody, pushing him to go faster.Â
Youâd already been pushing the edge, just from him touching you⌠but now that the contact was area specific, you werenât sure if you could take much more. The hard feeling of him pressed against your earlier had seeded a thought that you would not be satisfied until he was inside you, heavy and full.Â
âWant more,â you tried to tell him, but he would not allow his feasting to be cut short. Heâd made up his mind about the first time he would actually have sex with you. It wasnât going to be rushed.
He shook his head, the sensation from the motion even more impacting. You took one hand away from his hair, fisting his sheets as tightly as you could.Â
âGotta work you a little,â he pulled back to say, adding another finger to the mix, feeling you tightly around him. He climbed back up your body, hand never leaving its place between your legs. âRelax for me, yeah?â
You did your best, taking a breath and keeping your eyes trained on his, but they soon fell to his mouth, lips licked clean and the very corners covered with you. It somehow flipped a switch in you that you werenât sure was good or not. Joel was the first man to go down on you. Joel was the first man to kiss you without immediately putting his tongue in your mouth. Joel was the first man to be so invested in your relationship, that he asked you out on a date⌠after you messed around. It stands to reason that Joel may be the first man you genuinely fall in love with. Not puppy love like in high school. Not conditional love based on what he can get out of it. Actual love.Â
You dawn on this realization quickly, still in the moment and feeling his every move, every grip of his hand or every curl of his fingers. Itâs all so instant, and in your present state of mind. Like, every time he moves an inch, it somehow contributes to your relative thought.Â
âJoel?â you look up at him with glassed over eyes.Â
He pauses his movements below on account of how sincere you sound.Â
âYeah?â
Itâs not I love you⌠not yet. Itâs I know you, itâs going to be you.
You reach down between your bodies, his fingers still sheathed in yours, and palm him generously. Without losing eye contact, you undo his jeans, doing your best with one hand to maneuver the waistband of his boxers and pull him from his confinement. You arenât looking yet⌠but you know from the feel of his sheer size alone, youâre in for the pain of your life. It bothered you last time, the thought that he may break you on his girth, that you may feel differently or resent him from how he feels⌠except you donât feel that way anymore. Because of your aforementioned realization, you now feel that though this may hurt, it would not change your desire for him. Heâs not a boy whoâs hurting you to get off. He cares about you.Â
Not just messinâ aroundâŚ
âYouâve made me wait long enough,â you told him, the awestruck glaze in your eyes slowly fading as your smirk crawled over your face. You grabbed the hem of his shirt, allowing him to help you get it off. Seeing more of his skin, and feeling it against you when he settled back down was elating. It felt like the doorway to something, the hallway leading to reward.Â
âBaby, youâre still tight, I donât wan-â
âIâll be okay, I promise.â
He sighed, trying to look anywhere but your eyes because dammit they were convincing.Â
âI hurt you, you tell me. Promise that,â he looked at you sternly, and you canât say youâve ever seen him so serious like this alone with you. He almost seemed, for lack of a better word, scared. Like you were a flower petal he was afraid to touch for the fear it would fall from the blossom.Â
âPromise.â
He nodded, smiling weakly, still unsure but willing to let you lead him blindly.Â
He picked you up and put you down on the proper region of the bed, your head meeting the pillows behind you. You giggled at his rapid motions to strip you of your shirt and bra next, his pent up anticipation now getting the better of him. Heâd kicked off the last of his remaining clothing, looking back to you, sprawled out on his bed, waiting patiently for him.Â
âIf weâre gonna do this, weâre doinâ it right,â he joked, crawling back over you.Â
He nuzzled his nose against yours, then leaned down to collect a kiss. The kiss met your lips but then parted and moved to your neck, then shoulders, licking the sweet spot in the crook between them. He traveled down your chest, his kisses never stopping, although his hands paid special attention to each peak of raised flesh.Â
Your noises fell on grateful ears, the appreciation for them showing in every eager kiss, every soft grope of your skin. When he reached your lower region, he kissed both thighs apart, lifting one at a time and making sure they were set aside his hips comfortably. Once done, he kissed his way back up. Tentative, and slow. Joel is often strong and silent, and in this instance, it showed immensely. The way he can easily move parts of you around without hassle, and do so without uttering a word. It was dangerously addicting, how he already knew your body so intimately after only a few experiences.Â
Once his lips again found yours it lasted, and lasted. The feeling of him right against you was breathtaking. No barriers, no clothing, no promises of âanother timeâ between you.
âYou let me know, alright?âÂ
You nodded, his voice had become gentler from his first worrisome words minutes ago.Â
He kept his eyes on you, trying to gauge your reaction moment by moment. You wrapped an arm over his shoulder, holding the hairs at the back of his neck to ground yourself. He lined himself up to you and ever so slowly began to push in, holding himself after the first sharp intake of breath through your nose.Â
âMâokay,â you said assuringly, the sensation dulling slightly when you focused solely on him and not his actions.Â
He went further, and deeper, slower than sludge but making sure you could feel every inch comfortably before moving again. You twirled his hair between your fingers, the other hand digging nails into his side. His face, eyes still focused on your expression, was becoming the product of bliss. This entire exchange, the build up, the stretching pain, and the way your lungs couldnât seem to exhale, was all worth it⌠just to see this look on his face. The way he was having to fight himself to stay in the moment and not get lost in the euphoria, it was the most beautiful youâd ever seen him. When he was dazed and confused just by feeling you around him.Â
âYou gotta breathe, baby,â he let out, trying to keep your comfort in the forefront of his mind. He took a deep inhale of his own, and when he felt you following his steady pattern he was able to relax a little more, just like you did. âAtta girl, just like that⌠keep doinâ that.â
He started to move, a single thrust once he could be sure that there wasnât any stiff pain. The only sting left over was fading, the slow and measured pace he set was becoming like a lifeline. Comparable to a heartbeat. In and out, in and out, the feeling becomes more pleasurable and addictive. You need a heartbeat to live, and in this moment, you need Joel to live, his easy and gentle pace.Â
âSâgood,â you murmured, your eyes fluttering closed and his head dropping to your neck again. âFeels so deep.â
Joel bit down on your skin, tethering himself. The praise was something he wasnât quite used to. Heâs self deprecating to a fault, but hearing the opposite from your lips, which he adores, makes him feel stronger somehow. Keeping a tether is all he can do to keep from rutting against you. He wants so badly for you to be different, to not end up just a one night stand or a friend with benefits. He wants you to feel how much he cares about you, wants to take care of you.Â
âDoinâ so good, baby,â he whispered, your neck absorbing most of the sound. âTaking me, so tight.â
Your muscles started contracting the moment he sped up his rhythm, only one thrust that was different from the rest. It hit you so fast, the coil in your stomach, building up and aching for relief.Â
âJoel⌠shit,â You could barely even get your words out, interrupted by a whimper of white hot euphoria. âIâm gonnaâŚâ
âI know,â he growled, his desire to rut into you slowly fading as he increased his pace to meet that carnal need. âI feel you, baby. Give it to me.â
It built only a little more, but then you couldnât take it. It was too much, too full. The tightness in your stomach burst, letting go of every tense muscle in your body. It was so intense you practically screamed for him, his name a repetitive mantra on your tongue. Joel. Your hips jolted and writhed around, the feeling increasing with every hit against your cervix. Joel. Your walls tightened even more around him, the sting only slightly returning but in a way that made you crave it. Joel. He came right after you, unable to even try pulling out, just for how tightly you held him in. JoelâŚ
He dropped half his weight, pulling away from your neck to kiss your lips. He needed to. It didnât feel right to stay hidden in your neck when he had such gratification for you right now. The way you made him feel was no simple thing, and he felt you needed to be thanked for that. If a kiss was all he could give you in the moment, then so be it.
JoelâŚ
âIâm sorry,â he let out, leaving his forehead against yours.Â
âFor what?âÂ
âI came in you⌠I didnât ask,â he furrowed his brows, hoping you wouldnât begrudge him too badly. Heâd say he got lucky when you pulled him back down for another kiss.Â
âItâs okay⌠wanted you to,â you were still coming down from your high, possibly the most intense feeling youâve ever experienced. He smiled and kissed you again, and again. He shifted the way you both laid, on his side, and brought you close to his chest.Â
When your breathing went back to normal, you spoke again.Â
âI was scared, yâknow.â
He looked closely at you, unsure of what you meant and why.Â
âI thought you might hurt me. I didnât care if you did, but I still thought you might,â you told him, running your fingers in circles over his skin. Though you seemed in bliss, perfectly happy, he couldnât help but be frightened that maybe you werenât telling him.
âDid I? Hurt you?âÂ
âNo.â you shook your head, holding a smile and making sure he saw it was genuine. âYou didnât hurt me, it was good. Really good. No other guy has everâŚâÂ
He again was confused by the trail of your voice⌠no guy has ever� Oh, shit.
âNo other guyâs made you come before?âÂ
The embarrassed blush on your cheeks told him all he needed to know. You werenât sure why it was so awkward to let him find that out, but you suddenly felt like you were more of a child, having not experienced things that he has for years before.Â
âNo one before you⌠and youâve already got four on the board,â you laughed, trying to make it feel like it wasnât as big a deal. Like it was funny.Â
He narrowed his eyes, raising his head up to look at you closer.Â
âRangerâs night, last week, tonight⌠thatâs three,â he corrected, counting out on three fingers and holding them up.Â
âYou technically werenât there the other time,â you smirked, giggling once he looked at you with wide eyes and a dropped jaw.Â
âShouldâve called me,â he kissed the tip of your nose, your smile still prominent and growing. âI love hearing you.âÂ
Over his shoulder you heard his phone buzzing, once, twice, then three times. He huffed, hoping it wasnât from someone at the work site that wasnât able to lock up the property after reviewing.Â
âHold on,â he rolled his eyes, turning just far enough to reach his jeans on the ground, pulling his phone from the pocket. He squinted against the harsh light, swiping through the message notifications that appeared when he unlocked the screen. He laughed, turning to you. âSâ your dad.â
âItâs late, I would have thought he was either drunk or asleep by now.â
âApparently neither,â he slid his phone back on the nightstand, regaining you in his arms. âWants to know if Iâm still awake for a drink.â
You laughed, âOh, really?âÂ
âYeah. Not sure if youâve heard but, youâre actually at a friendâs house till tomorrow.âÂ
âHow fun for me⌠so that means a guyâs night for you and my dad?â You played along with him, the sweet tone in your voice turning teasing.
âIt would⌠too bad Iâm already asleep.â He reasoned, which is probably what he would repeat to your dad tomorrow if asked.Â
âDamn, you old men go to bed early.â
âHey now⌠letâs not go crazy.â
-
tags: @justanothersadperson93@moonchild-warrior@hopplessilse @brittmd115 @michilandcof@untamedheart81@just-someone-broken@joelalorian@xybil @yvonneeeee @anoverwhelmingdin@theatrelove3000
#joel the last of us#joel x reader#joel miller age gap#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#dbf! joel miller#dbf!joel miller x reader#dbf!joel miller#dbf!joel#pedro pascal joel miller#troy baker
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hayride.
dbf!joel miller x f!reader summary: visiting (the) home depot with your dad's best friend, joel miller. [and, him eating and fucking you, in the hay field located behind the store]. warnings: 18+ mdni. age gap. agoraphilia. au. begging. brat!reader. cream pie. daddy!joel. daddy!kink. dirty talk. dom!joel. (anal) fingering. jealous!joel. language. no outbreak. oral sex. no use of 'y/n'. praising. smut. unprotected piv. use of 'good girl'. use of 'slut'. word count: [about] 2,600. a/n: hi, more october-set smut, before the month's over. thank you for welcoming me into the fandom, by supporting my debut, october's end. [part two's next month]. cover by me, divider by @saradika. @saradika-graphics.
A decadeâs fleeted, since the last time that Joel Millerâs arcing, bedroom windowâs framed your body; Youâre nearly an apparition.
Your mere silhouetteâs evoking long-neglected memories for Joel; Your private schoolâs fussy graduation. Whistling, from the bleacherâs humid, metallic plank. Joelâs abruptly blinking away his proud reverie.
Your haphazard, gauzy curtains arenât proffering any privacy. Your dresserâs girlish; A dust-ladened and weathered wicker. Youâre scrounging the half-dozen drawers, sorting teenaged remnants, Joelâs guessing.
Itâs arguably morally awry, that heâs guessing at all. Youâve unearthed an ivory-colored pair of panties. Youâre sampling the garmentâs width, against your clothed waist; Your index fingerâs hooking the pliant underwear and slowly stretching. Joel curses, âFuckâs sake.â
Joelâs denim-clad groinâs growing taut; Youâre unbuttoning your pants. His conscienceâs hollering, QuitWatchingQuitWatching. Then, Joelâs belatedly swiping his curtainâs panel shut. The plaid, trembling fabricâs punishing him. Youâre right there.
Your peripheralâs revealing that brown, tartan materialâs now obscuring Joel Millerâs looming, perusing shadow.
Your phoneâs deeply droning, near plummeting from your nightstandâs uneven, wickered top. You answer, âHi.â
Dadâs beginning, âHi, you.â Before, âRoom âlright?âÂ
You aimlessly nod, âYeah. Need ât paint it, though.â
The flat, stark whiteâs reminiscent of an operating room. A scalpel amid your dominant, gloved hand; Your abandoned internship. Youâre certainly color-drenching this bland, interim room.
Dadâs conveniently chirping, âYâknow, Joelâs headinâ over ât The Home Depot. âJus asked if I needed anythinâ for work.â
You humorously say, âThe Home Depot?â
Dad amusedly huffs, âThe one ân only.â Then, âIâll dial âim back. Tell âim ât bring âya.â
Youâre nervously inquiring, âHe wonât mind?â
Dadâs chuckling, âKid, seriously? âS just Joel.â
He hasnât been just Joel, since his absurdly sexy appearance in Dadâs FaceBook album, dorkily titled, âFishinâ Missionsâ. Dadâs askew lens, recording Joelâs roughened, veiny hand, sizably surpassing his fishâs ample breadth; His armâs rind, rugged and sun-freckled.
 That heathered-gray muscle-tee; Hued identically to Joelâs own silvery threads. Accentuating. Your horny musingâs interrupted, when the doorbellâs nostalgic dingâs reverberated. A leadened, salacious feelingâs pin-balling your ribâs conical-shaped cage.
Youâre descending the stairwayâs carpeted tread. A once-overâs rushedly ensuing, amid the entry wayâs gritty mirror. Youâre timidly turning the front doorâs bulbous knob; Your skinâs avidly warming.
Joelâs gruffing, âWaitinâ on an invitation?â
Youâre feignedly snark, âGo âhead, Miller.âÂ
Joelâs arousingly large. His beltâs leathered and suppled; Tapering his tender waist. Youâre deliriously visualizing biting it. Your teethâs individualized grooving, engraving Joelâs every-day accessory.
Heâs beckoning, âCâmere. Settlinâ in okay?â
Your pulseâs embarrassingly hurried, as Joelâs hugging you. Your noseâs upturned, against his collarâs corduroy lapel; His inherent aromaâs autumnal. A heady medley of burnt cinnamon, earthy hay.
You breathlessly retort, âYâYes. âJus fine.â
His beardâs deliciously graying and scruffy; Bristling you. Joelâs inching away; A handâs kneading your elbowâs point, âGrown. Ainât âya?â
Youâre muttering, âThink anythinâ in my âol dresserâll fit?â
Joel rasps, âBe fittinâ somethinâ âa mine. Talkinâ like that.â
You teasingly tut, âOh? Promise?â
His jawâs tightening, âGâGet in my fuckinâ truck, âlready.â
The retail storeâs unmistakingly orange and tan exteriorâs materializing onward. Joelâs hushedly threatening, âGot ât behave.â
Youâre amusedly assuring him, âMe? âCourse.â
Heâs backwardly parking. His armâs generously imposing against your seatâs cushiony spine, âLot âa clients âa mine, in âere.â
His chinâs abutting along his broad, reaching shoulderâs top. Joelâs delectable, lofting noseâs leading his prominent side-profile; His pursed, upper lipâs capped under an impressive, stiff mustache. Your cuntâs pulsating. You need to rabidly rut against Joel Millerâs aging, sun-tinged face.
Youâre resignedly sighing, âFine.â
Joel replies, âBratty fuckinâ girl.â
His accentâs aggressively Texan; Languid. Syrupy. Youâre involuntarily leaking, beyond your underwearâs cottony corral. The archaic radioâs uttering early-seventies Linda Ronstadt, until Joelâs halting the ignition.
You murmur, âAny cute clients?â
Joelâs apparently unimpressed; Heâs agitatedly rolling his coffee-shaded eyes. Tutting, âBest be âlone, when I find âya.â
Youâre unpromisingly shrugging, before evacuating his Fordâs heated interior. Whispering, âSee âbout that, Miller.â
Your skinâs momentarily rasped, from the atypically frigid, October wind. The store-frontâs decorated seasonally. Thereâs pallets, upon pallets, of pumpkins; A uniformed variety of classic orange and creamy white.
Youâre distractedly mulling around carving or painting pumpkins, while Joelâs unexpectedly wrapping his freshly-shedded, heavy chore-coat against you; His handâs comfortingly scrubbing your shoulderâs taut blade.
Joelâs deeply humming, âBetter, darlinâ? Hm?â
Youâre instantaneously arming the clothing itemâs perfectly tenderized sleeves, âMâMuch, Joel.â
Youâre leaning, subsequently touching his torsoâs muscular crest. Joelâs thumbing your collarâs curving bone, âWarm, here?â
You whine, âYes.â
Joelâs beginning to crane downard, until heâs chinning your shoulderâs trembling shelf. Youâre gasping, as heâs fingering your loaner, Carhartt jacketâs bottom button, from behind. His armâs caging you.
His calloused pinkyâs reaching, before flitting your pantâs folded fly, âAnd, here?â Heâs wagering, âWarmer?â
Youâre groaning, âNgh. YâYeah.â
Joel carnally scolds, âFilthy fuckinâ girl. AâAskinâ me âbout other men? While your pussyâs pre-heatinâ âf me?â
His finger nailâs raking your zipperâs aluminum teeth. Joelâs tauntingly whispering, âAinât brattinâ much, now.â
Youâre begging, âLâLetâs leave.â
Heâs instantly moving. Youâre incoherently stunned, as Joelâs adopting an orange-colored cart, âFind âya in the paintinâ section?â
Youâre spluttering, âJâJoel. âS not what I meant.â
Joelâs winking, âDarlinâ, I know what âya meant.â
Heâs ambling ahead, bypassing the automatic doorâs yawning jaw. Your dominant handâs flexing, electrocuted in palpable pleasure; Itâs reminiscent of Mr. Darcy. Youâre involuntarily summoning an image of Joel, dressed as the aforementioned aristocrat, participating in Halloween.
Joelâs robust shoulders, heaving against an incompletely unbuttoned, wispy shirt. His chestâs foggy-toned, furling hair. His headâs rain-rustled, curly strands. A high-waisted trouser; Ascending his bellyâs delectable slope, whilst canopying his cockâs dilating weight. You know itâs big.
Youâre unfocused; Footing the hardware storeâs threshold. Thereâs an assortment of motion-triggered, Halloween decorations erected nearby. Youâre curiously setting one, an animatronic âBoogeymanâ. The creepy distractionâs festively futile. Joel Millerâs still permeating your skull.
The paint attendantâs named âRugerâ. A gun manufacturer namesakeâs befitting, given Rugerâs camouflaged, distressed t-shirt. Heâs an Austin, Texas quintessential, twenty-something male; A âmodernizedâ mullet-and-mustache duet? Check. A smothering of âpatchworkedâ tattoos? Check.
Heâs flirtatiously greeting, âSugar. How can I do âya?â
Youâre brandishing an array of complimentary paint-swatches, against his counterâs crest, âDo color-matchinâ?â
Rugerâs endorsing, âBest âround.â
Youâre inwardly wincing, but Joelâs abruptly approaching. So, âAinât doubt it. Clothes shouldnât be an issue?â
Your palmâs routing your breastâs pocket; Rugerâs murmuring, âTâThat jacket? âMossâ by Carhartt. Got codinâ.â
Youâre falsely enthusiastic, âReally? Youâre the best.â
Ruger tosses an isolated thumb, signaling to his computerized, machine mixer, âTold âya.â Asking, âColorâs goinâ in your bedroom?â
Youâre agreeably nodding, âYep.â
Rugerâs grinning, âLucky paint.â
You begin, âYou? Feelinâ lucky?â
Joelâs reprimanding, âLucky that I ainât kill âim.â Before, âPassinâ at my girl. Gettinâ paid ât do that?â
Rugerâs answering, âNâNo, Sir.â
Joelâs deeply repeating, âNo.â Then, âTwo gallons âa Sherwin-Williams. Emerald. Matte finishinâ, both of âem.â
Youâre second-handedly embarrassed and incapable of meeting Rugerâs apologetic, parting peer. Joelâs efficiently emptying his cartâs plastic-composed basin, before rehoming his kindred supplies, upon the check-standâs laminate surface. You muse, âEmeraldâs two-hundred dollars âa paint?â
Joelâs genuinely offended, âAinât payinâ. Iâm gettinâ it.â
Youâre avidly insisting, âDonât have ât do that, Miller.â
Then, Joelâs rapidly reaching outward; Yanking your beltâs fraying loop. Youâre firmly tugged against him. He drawls, âWant ât do it.â
His breathâs cinnamony and smoky; An inebriating merging of gum and cigarettes. You dizzyingly respond, âYâYeah?â
Joelâs languidly leaning, before brushing his noseâs point against your earâs lobe, âYeah.â Whispering, âPaintinâ your bedroom the color âa my jacket? Whatâs that âbout, darlinâ girl?â
Youâre shyly stammering, âDââDunno.â Accusing, âSayinâ aloud, âmy girlâ? Whatâs that âbout, Joel?â
Joelâs grinning, âThat? Want ât find out?â
Youâre panting, âOh?â
His palmâs barreling behind; Stuffing his pantâs pocket. Youâre savoring the rattling sound of his key-ringâs recovery. Then, Joelâs rapidly shoving the mixed-metal wad inside your rear-pocket. His bulky handâs harshly kneading your bottomâs fleshy heft; Your cuntâs thumping.
He demands, âGo âhead. Right behind âya.â
Youâre ocularly rummaging around Joelâs unkempt vehicle. American Spirits. Matches. A thrifted, Patsy Cline cassette. Big Red. Coins. A dog-eared, John Steinbeck novel. The sexual suspenseâs dampening your sternum; Sticky. Sweaty. Youâre beginning to desperately undress.
The Carhartt coatâs discarded. Your flimsy henleyâs unbuttoned. Joelâs egressing from Home Depotâs aromatic interior, before pausing at the Garden Centerâs check-stand. No way. A hundred-dollar noteâs being thrusted, from Joelâs girthy hand, unto the cashierâs gloved palm.
This broad, burly manâs buying you fucking pumpkins. Heâs pensively plucking them. His browâs furrowing; His foreheadâs wrinkling. Joelâs literally examining them, heeding any blemished gourds. Youâre bewilderedly blinking, as Joelâs palming them, like theyâre⌠Basketballs.
Your waistâs winding, impatiently rutting against his truckâs benched seat; Your pantâs denimed seam, slotting your cuntâs drooly entry.
Then, Joelâs jerking the back-seatâs door ajar. Asking, âPick âem âlright? Did âya see?â His scruffy chinâs jutting, at his quartet of pumpkins.
Youâre swallowing, âYâYep. Thanks, Miller.â
Joelâs gruffing, âCâmon. âCourse, pretty girl.â
His armâs effortlessly flexing, tanned and veined, amid transferring his plastic-bagged supplies. Joelâs guessing, âNeed ât be fucked, in âere?â
You shamelessly moan, âMhm.â
Heâs teasingly whistling, âYeah? Ainât far from home, baby.â
Youâre grumbling, âTâToo far.â
Joelâs patronizing, âGettinâ cocked, in âere? âS really slutty.â
You sigh, âDonât care. Câmere.â
The shopping cartâs rapidly returned, before the driver-seatâs groaning under Joelâs jeaned ass, âNeedy pussy.â His construction bootâs tamping the brakeâs pedal, âAinât it? Get ât fingerinâ. Feed me somethinâ warm.â
Your brassy buttonâs unhitching; Your toothy zipperâs buzzing. Youâre hurriedly shrugging the denimed material downward; Ankling it. His mouthâs prematurely parting. Your underwearâs transparent, flooding in arousal. Joelâs dangerously speeding, departing the feebly-populated parking lot.
Heâs feverishly warning, âThereâs an empty hay field, âround back. Bit âa off-roadinâ. Yeah?â Directing, âGive âem.â
Then, Joelâs toughly tugging your pantyâs waist-line. Youâre shamelessly obedient; Your fabric restraintâs promptly removed. His beefy, index fingerâs impatiently suspended; Pumping. Your pussyâs watering his passenger-seatâs cushioning; Your underwearâs encircling Joelâs commanding digit.
The all-terrain truckâs bumpily impeling, devouring the barren fieldâs acreage. Eyes involuntarily shutting, Joelâs blindly steering, inbreathing your underwearâs deluged gusset. His nostrilâs flaring. His cockâs pitching, prodding below his crotchâs denimed rein; Youâre stuffing your pussyâs well.
Joelâs harshly moaning, âListen ât that. Cryinâ fuckinâ hole.â
Youâre whimpering, âMâMm. Ngh.â
Heâs greedily ringing your plunging wrist; Yanking. The rapid removalâs obscenely squelchy. Then, Joelâs immediately slurping your index and middle fingerâs balmy glaze; Your thumbâs pinning upon his chinâs graying, scratchy underside. The truckâs recklessly slowing.
Joelâs haphazardly parking. The halting, howling tires begin spewing an autumnal confetti; A misting of dry hay and auburn leaves. Youâre suddenly hoisting against Joelâs bulging lap; Heâs instantaneously hammering, before spitting out your moistened fingerâs duet.
And, Joel Millerâs finally kissing you. His groanâs pouring, beyond your esophagus. Licking your mouthâs rippled roof; Siphoning your tongueâs humid pad. Your naked pussyâs pouncing upon Joelâs clad cock. Heâs thumbing your cheek-boneâs divot and cupping your jaw-lineâs hind; Whimpering.
Heâs arousingly exhaling, âNgh. âS fuckinâ tasty.â Then, Joelâs dropping horizontally. Laying, âFixinâ ât guzzle âya.â
His headâs hedging the passenger-sideâs door; His bootâs budging the driver-sideâs door. Youâre drawing upward, as Joelâs guiding you. Your dewy holeâs ramming against Joelâs awaiting face; Heâs nosing your clitâs distended mound. Your innard thighâs twitching, âGâGod. Feel fuckinâ good.â
 Arousalâs rigorously sopping Joelâs beard. His mustacheâs coated and creamy. Your behindâs leveraging; Ass firmly spreading. Joelâs maneuvering and manhandling you. Heâs lapping, nearly pornographically swigging. Youâre internally levitating; Your spineâs liquefied, âAâAhhhh. Joel, Joel.â
Joelâs innocently whispering, âWhat?â Then, âAssholeâs puckerinâ. Need plugginâ?â
Youâre deliriously nodding, Yes. His center digitâs tantalizingly traveling below. Brushing your clitâs crest; Scooping your cuntâs slick. Your fluttering, furthest holeâs aching, against Joelâs circling, fingerâs pad. Heâs beginning to tandemly traverse; Eating. Fingering.
Your stomachâs tightening, as Joelâs knuckling you. His headâs nuzzling; Shaking. His beardâs rigidly whiskering, across your coreâs folding, before heâs relentlessly sucking. Your clitâs flickering; Youâre blindingly cumming. Joelâs airily humping; His cockâs englarging.
Heâs hoarsely speaking, âAââAtta girl.â Praising, âDrippinâ inside âa my fuckinâ ear?â Sniffling, âUp my fuckinâ nose? Good, wet girl.â
Youâre dizzyingly horny, âMiller. PleasePleasePlease.â
Joelâs grinning, âPlease?âÂ
Your puffy pussyâs eagerly lowering, âYes.â Youâre gyrating, against his lapâs ridge, âFuck. FâFuck me.â
Heâs grunting, âFuck âya? Fuckinâ slut. Keep begginâ.â
Joelâs leaning upright and sitting upward. Your disoriented shirtâs being tossed away. Licking your throatâs trail; Skimming your nippleâs peak. Youâre nakedly stamping atop his torsoâs towering mass. Your skinâs goose-bumping, âNgh. PâPlease, Daddy.â
His browâs amusedly arching, âYâYeah?â Demanding, âWhoâs.â Thrust. âYour.â Thrust. âDaddy?â
Promising, âYou.â
Joelâs approvingly nodding; His driver-side doorâs thudding open. His armâs muscularly solid, whilst effortlessly upholding you. Youâre burrowing, at his throatâs protruding, pulsing vein, as heâs regressing vertical. His anterior bootâs pressing upon decaying hay; A gelid gust of windâs wreathing.
Heâs attentively mumbling, âShiverinâ? Letâs warm âya. Hm?â
His beardâs balmy and cunt-scented. Youâre being settled, amongst his driver-seatâs aged upholstering. Youâre amorously fidgeting, as Joelâs flitting his beltâs metallic prong. The accessoryâs yanked from his fading Wranglers, as Joelâs abutting the cushionâs edge; His zipperâs deliciously drawing.
The beltâs noisily plummeting; A leathery slap, against the floor-matâs rubbery surface. Your waist-lineâs eagerly grasped, whilst Joelâs positioning your pussyâs twingeing hole. Heâs hissing, during an arousing upheaval, of his cockâs entirety; The seeping tipâs bypassing his belly-buttonâs nook.
His t-shirtâs becoming translucent, as pre-cumâs dampening it. Youâre following the ample shaftâs terse twitching. Blurting, âNeed. That.â
Joelâs attractively smug, âThis?â Heâs robustly swatting his cock, across your clitâs cummy summit, âThink itâll fit?â
You whimper, âFâFuckinâ make it.â
Heâs lowly whispering, âDirty fuckinâ mouth.â Then, Joelâs abruptly and aggressively entering, âGo âhead. Keep mouthinâ off.â
The truckâs boisterously creaking, as Joelâs ruggedly rutting. Your cervix wallâs convulsing, crowning his cockâs head. Your shiny spendâs glossing Joelâs graying, pubic tuft. His groinâs angrily clobbering, striking your cuntâs doused expanse. Youâre incoherently stammering, âNâNgh.â
Joelâs responding, âCanât hear âya, bratty girl.â
Youâre painfully stretching, inside-and-out. His jeaned, lower-portionâs gloriously grating your thighâs rear. Your right-side legâs hooking through the steering wheelâs median; Your left-side legâs perching, against Joelâs widening shoulderâs tier, as heâs weightily falling forward, âSay somethinâ?â
Your limbâs achingly pinned vertically; Your bodyâs contorting, creating an indecent, ninety-degree angle. His focused, sun-wrinkled foreheadâs grown moist. His furling, silver-tinged strands begin cascading. The benched seatâs dilapidated stitchingâs imprinting, decorating your backâs extent.
Your taintâs repeatedly thwacked, by Joelâs brimming balls. His angleâs hitching, hitting that spot. Youâre shrieking, âAâAh.â
Joelâs accordingly bottoming-out, âDoinâ good. Stretchinâ well. Ainât it?â His hipâs briskly oscillating, âGood girl. Good pussy.â
Youâre shuddering, âDâDaddyDaddyDaddy.â
The pleasureâs pouring. Your cuntâs palpitating; Your spineâs taut. Joelâs resultantly stroking, maintaining his pacing, but drilling harder. Heâs licking, crossing your hung jaw-lineâs road. His tenderized t-shirtâs feathering, against your exposed nipples, over-sensitively tapering them.
Joelâs rasping, âCâmon. Flood my fuckinâ truck.â
His toneâs arousingly languid. Thatâs it. Youâre breathlessly cumming. Every extremityâs tightening, before blissfully dissolving. Your visionâs brightly impaired. Your climaxing moanâs fractured, as Joelâs ingesting it. His mouthâs restorative, whilst being ruining. Youâre whispering, âFlood me.â
Heâs whimpering, âYâYeah?â A prominent veinâs materializing, against his throatâs girthy rind, âAinât wet ânough, âlready? Greedy hole.â
Then, Joel Millerâs hotly erupting. His lengthâs flinching. Your fatigued, flittering holeâs wringing him. His aging browâs bunching; Youâre caressing his cinched expression. Your right-side legâs being removed, amidst the steering wheelâs medial opening. Joelâs comforting, âHurtinâ?â
Youâre indifferently shrugging; Joelâs unconvinced. His palmâs expertly massaging your legâs weary ligament. Youâre pathetically sighing, making Joel laugh. Heâs kneading your knee-capâs exhausted muscle, before fingering your calf-tendonâs aspiring knot. You stammer, âTâThanks, Miller.â
Joelâs questioning, âHow âbout Loweâs, âmorrow?â
Youâre grinning, âSure. If âya sleep-over, tonight.â
#pedro pascal#joel miller#dbf!joel#joel x reader#joel miller x reader#smut#joel tlou#pedro pascal smut#joel miller smut#dbf!joel miller#joel miller age gap#joel miller one shot#joel miller imagine#joel miller x fem!reader
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I Wanna See You Begginâ
Summary: Joel Miller is your dadâs best friend, you knew it was wrong, you knew it would only cause trouble but you couldnât help the way you ached for the man. (Title is from I Hate Myself for Loving You â Joan Jett & The Blackhearts) 6.9k words. Iâm sorry.
Characters: dbf!Joel Miller x f!Reader
Warnings: 18+ only, no minors as itâs just a big olâ load of smut⌠praise kink (use of âgood girlâ a lot), p in v sex, unprotected (be sensible and wrap before u tap, pls), age gap (reader is mid twenties, Joel would be in his late 40s), use of the word âdaddyâ, oral (f receiving), no outbreak in this au.
A/N: hi guys, I havenât written smut for years and Joel Miller has me frothing at the mouth and giggling like a little girl with a crush especially dbf!joel⌠Anyway, if this is enjoyed by people, I have an idea of how I could make this into a series. Please leave me nice comments or catch me crying in a corner somewhere lol
âDad,â you huffed into the receiver as you held your phone to your ear with your shoulder. âI love you and all but I could think of better ways to spend my Friday night rather than listening to you and Joel argue over which 80âs band is the best.â You chuckled fondly as you carried on typing away at the laptop in front of you whilst you spoke into your phone.Â
âSweetheart, I love spending time with you and Joel, you love him as well! Iâll pay for dinner?â He spoke softly and you smiled as your could hear your dadâs smile down the phone.Â
âFine, what time do you want me round, old man?â You teased fondly. âI finish work at 5 today.â
â6:30pm work okay for you? Donât forget to bring some beer.â Your dad asked with a smirk.Â
You rolled your eyes before responding to him, âFine, Iâll bring the beers but as soon as you and the other old man start arguing, Iâm out!â You laughed.Â
âDeal,â your dad agreed. âIâll see you later my sweet pea, love you!â He hummed and hung up before you could respond.Â
âOld men and technology.â You muttered to yourself before taking your phone and opening your messaging app.Â
You quickly tapped on the screen and chewed on your lip as you did so.Â
âYou need a lift to dadâs later? xâ you hit send and placed your phone down on your desk, returning your attention back to your work laptop. You were in the midst of replying to an email when your phone buzzed on your desk beside you.Â
âSure thing, peach. See you around 6? :) Xxâ
You couldnât help the way your lips upturned into a smile, and as soon as you caught the reaction you chewed on your bottom lip. You hated the way the older male had such a visceral effect on you, you had known Joel Miller for around ten years now. You moved to the city and your father worked with him, the two of them soon became best buddies which in turn, meant he spent a lot of time around you and your house. When you first met Joel you were a mere sixteen-year old kid, from day one you felt an instant attraction to him, you knew it was wrong but you couldnât deny it. In the beginning it felt like a harmless, childish crush, one that you were bound to grow out of but things only seemed to get worse the older you got, that attraction burned deep in your veins and any time you spent time with the older man you couldnât help the way your cheeks burned and your pussy throbbed; there had been many nights where you had dropped him home after visiting your dad and rushed home just so you could relieve your tension. Your fingers buried deep in yourself, moaning Joelâs name as you came around them.Â
You felt shameful, dirty and down-right embarrassed about those moments but it didnât stop you from doing it again, and again.. and again. You knew Joel would never cross that line, never, he was too much of a gentleman and had way too much respect for your old man but that didnât stop the feelings you had for him.
Your mind was reeling, so much so you barely noticed the way your thighs pressed themselves together searching for some relief to your aching core, you stood from your desk in your room and stretched before you looked at the time on your desktop, it read 4pm. You sighed and went to your kitchen to grab a snack and make yourself a strong coffee, you had an hour left of work before you had to shower and get ready before picking Joel up.Â
The last hour of your work felt excruciatingly slow, your mind was busy with thoughts of your evening ahead of you; it was no different to your usual Friday get-together with your dad and his friend but today you couldnât erase the filthy thoughts of Joel from your mind. You quickly showered, hoping the hot water would wash your mind and body clean, you ignored the burning to urge to relieve some tension and give your body the orgasm and relief it so badly needed.Â
After showering you, you applied a light layer of make-up, like usual before pulling your hair up in a half-up and half-down style. You looked into your wardrobe and reached for a plain black tank top, orange plaid over shirt and black tennis skirt; you paired the outfit with your favourite pair of black converse. You put your accessories on; earrings, rings and gave your body a spritz of your favourite perfume. After grabbing the 12-pack of beer from the fridge, you quickly grabbed your phone and keys off the counter and left your apartment to go and pick up Joel.Â
You were running a tad late but that wasnât out of the ordinary, and Joel was always expecting it. You pulled up outside his home, gave a beep of your horn and took a shaky breath in as you saw him lock up and approach your car. Your hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter as he climbed into your car and suddenly your senses were attacked with the older male. The small space filled with his heady scent, his aftershave musky, spicy and just Joel. He was wearing dark grey jeans, not too tight but tight enough to appreciate his thick thighs and your eyes couldnât help but notice his bulge as he walked. Joel was wearing a dark khaki over shirt and a black T-shirt under that went perfectly with his jeans, and of course, he was wearing his trusty dealer boots.Â
âHey peach,â he spoke and leant over to press a kiss to the side of your head. It was something he had done for years, only now, you craved to feel his lips elsewhere.Â
âHey old man.â You grinned and started your car once more.Â
The journey to your fatherâs house was short, only about twenty minutes; it was annoying that he didnât live in the same neighbourhood as it always meant you or, on occasion, Joel had to drive. It was a comfortable journey as the two of you spoke about your respective dayâs and weekâs.Â
âSo youâre not hanging out with that guy again tonight, oh, what was his name!?â Joel questioned, searching his brain for the name. âDerek? No, no, he definitely seemed like a George!â He laughed, his hands resting comfortably on his thigh, you couldnât help the way your eyes glanced down at his large digits.Â
âHis name was Ben, and you know that, Joel. Youâre just being a dick.â You shook your head quickly with a laugh. âAnd nope, dad had other ideas for me⌠clearly babysitting duties. I would much prefer to be out with Ben but here we areâŚâ You said softly with a roll of your eyes, it was a lie, of course. You would happily spend every waking moment with Joel, if he let you, exploring his body, sharing your thoughts with one another.Â
His hand tensed on his thigh, it was brief and barely noticeable but you did notice it; that was⌠weird? You shook off the feeling and parked up outside your dadâs apartment block.Â
âAnyway, I love babysitting you old men. Itâs cute. Great practice for when I actually want kids.â You laughed, turning off the ignition and climbing out of your car. âAnd, Iâve warned dad, slightest hint of bickering between you two and I am out. Gone. Done. You can walk home.â As you spoke, you bent over to reach into the back seat of your car to grab the beers, one leg slightly lifted as your body struggled slightly to pull them closer; you hadnât given the motion much thought, especially in your outfit.
Joel moved until he was stood behind you, he cleared his throat and looked away sheepishly after catching a glimpse of your black, lace panties. His hand rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly. âUh hon, you might want me to grab those? Gonna give someone a heart attack if they see you like that.â His voice was soft as he spoke, still not making eye contact with you.Â
âShit. Sorry, Joel.â You cursed, your cheeks flushed red as you watched the dark haired man grab the beers and you smoothed out your skirt.
The rest of the evening played out like usual; your dad and Joel had a few beers each, you allowed yourself to have one as you were driving and you all ate way too much Chinese take-out. It was getting late, you were laid out on your dadâs couch, your legs swung over your dadâs lap, Joel was sat in the lazy-boy across the room, his legs sprawled wide. This was always part of the routine, you would all catch up on your weekâs complain about work, talk about sportâs games that had happened or were about to occur, it was familiar and safe.Â
âSo get this, bud,â Joel spoke, his voice breaking the noise of whatever Depeche Mode record they had put on the player. âY/N over here was saying she would have preferred to have hung out with that douche, Ben, we met last month. Can you believe that?â He looked over at you, smirking as he took a swig of his beer.Â
âDick,â you mouthed over to him and let your head hang back onto the arm of the sofa.Â
Your dad opened his eyes and looked over at you. âIs that right, sweet pea? You donât wanna hang out with your favourite âold menâ?! Iâm truly offended.â He laughed, closing his eyes again, feigning hurt.Â
âJoel is just bitter I have a better love life and sex life than him.â You shot back, immaturely sticking your tongue out at the other male.Â
âGross! Dad in the room!â Your dad grimaced, watching his hands in front of his face. âYouâre my little girl, I donât wanna hear about you having sex.â
âHey â thatâs not even true, I have sex⌠plenty of itâŚâ Joel huffed, trying to sound convincing as he lied through his teeth. In truth, Joel never really had an interest in the women he had met, sure he took a few women home from bar to sleep with them but after he lost his wife and child, Sarah, he never really had it in him to give dating a proper go.Â
âSureeee you do,â you giggled, causing your dad to let out a loud laugh.
You all laid about a bit longer, listening to music and joking around before you sat up and stretched your back out, causing your tank top to rise, showing a small sliver of soft skin to show. There it was again, Joelâs hand tensed in place and it was almost as if his jaw clenched down. You were sure you were imagining these things, like usual so you pushed yourself off the sofa and smoothed your clothes out.Â
âRight, popâs I better get old man Miller home before I pass out here. Iâm shattered.â You yawned, reinforcing your previous sentence.Â
After saying your goodbyes you walked back to your parked car, the cool chill of the late-night air made your skin prick up with goosebumps and sent a small shiver down your spine.Â
Joel and you walked in silence, the silence remained as you started your car and cranked the heating up.
âDick move, bringing up Ben to my dad by the way, Miller. Real dick move.â You spoke, your voice seeming loud in the confined and silent space, just the low thrum of your carâs air vents trying to clear the windows and fill the air with warmth.
âHa, sorry, Peach. Couldnât resist it. Was right there for me to tease you with.â He laughed lowly, bringing his hands up to blow some warmth into them. There it was again, that nickname, every time it rolled off his tongue it sent warmth straight to your core.Â
âMy dad doesnât need to know what I would rather be doing on a Friday night, or rather who I would rather be doing.â You huffed.
âI wouldnât go around proclaiming that sorta thing, especially round your pops. Iâm sure he wouldnât wanna hear how corrupt his good girl truly is.â Joel hummed, his finger tapping on his thigh as you began driving.Â
âGood girlâ, it rolled off his tongue so effortlessly yet it sent sparks straight to your core, as you drove you shift in your seat and pressed your thighs together.Â
âI â I uh, Iâm an adult, Joel. Iâm a fully grown woman, incase you havenât noticed. I have needs and wants.â You argued, trying to remain confident in your words.Â
âNeeds⌠and wants, huh?â He laughed, raising an eyebrow at you. âIs that why I see you practically drooling every time you see me? Now would you say thatâs a need or a want?â Joel asked, his voice low and sultry.
Your mouth dried up instantly, voice getting stuck in your throat as you tried to protest. âI â I do not.â You protested, your voice coming out as a mere squeak.
âOh peach, I see the way you press your thighs together. So needy for me? Hmm.â He hummed, his hand reaching over to touch your bare thigh. âIâve seen the way you shift in your seat when I spread my legs in the arm chair or when you catch a short glimpse of my bulge. Iâve seen it all, no need to hide it.â His fingers were barely touching you, ghost-like touches on your skin. It was a risky move, he knew that and he knew you could quite easily pull the car over, kick him out and tell your dad what he had done. It could ruin his only true, pure friendship if your dad found out. But Joel was also sure he had calculated this properly, he had seen you for the past couple years and your minuscule reactions only seemed to ramp up the older you had been getting.Â
Your breath hitched harshly in your throat as you tried to concentrate on the road ahead of you but your mind was swimming with Joel once again, his fingers lightly traced patterns on your inner thigh and all you could do was whimper pathetically under his touch.Â
âJ-joel,â you whined. âPlease donât tease me, Iâll crash the fuckinâ car if you play like that.â
âOh little girl, Iâve barely placed a hand on you and youâre already whimpering for me? Quite cute really.â He said, his voice seeming deeper than usual; he splayed his hand across the skin of your inner thigh and gripped it tightly.Â
You forced your eyes open as you continued to drive, you werenât sure if you were doing the speed limits or what, all you could think about was the large hand that was so close, yet not nearly close enough to where you needed it the most. You could feel how wet you were already, you had been a mess all evening but now you could physically feel your arousal collecting in your lace panties.Â
âYou reckon your olâ man knows how needy you are for me? Your dadâs best friend. Oh peach, what a mess.â He continued, he had moved closer to you now, reaching over the centre console of your car, his breath fanning out over your neck.Â
âJ-Joel, Iâm serious. Iâll crash if you carry on like that. Not funny.â You whined, trying to press your legs together again but feeling resistance in the form of Joelâs hand.Â
âTsk tsk tsk,â Joel tutted. âWhat are you trying to do there, darlinâ?â He laughed, letting his pinky drift closer to your clothed cunt just barely brushing the fabric.Â
You whined again, just a small noise from the back of your throat and pulled the car over, from what you could tell you were a few streets away from Joelâs house; the suburban area was dimly lit with few lights and no people walking around, especially not this late anyway. You pushed your car into park, turned off the lights and engine and looked at the older male for a moment, your lips wet and cheeks flushed.Â
âJoelâŚâ you started. âY-you donât have to do this, I know Iâm not your type and Iâm sure youâre just trying to play a bit of a joke on me. We should get you home and forget about all of thisâŚâ Your breath was shaky, you hoped to every god out there that Joel would continue but you wanted him to know he didnât have to humour your silly feelings.Â
âYou donât think I want this?â Joel asked, his face close to yours, hand still pressed teasingly to your thigh. âIâve noticed recently, the way you react to me and tonight, w-when you were bent over. Took everything in me to not pull those little panties aside and bury myself deep in that little cunt right there in the middle of the street.â His voice sounded near animalistic as he finished that sentence and your cheeks burned a deep, cherry red as he finished speaking.Â
âI didnât mean to do that, didnât really think.â You mumbled, looking past him to stare out the window.Â
âShh,â Joel hummed, he leant forward and placed a kiss to your lips with his hand still stroking soft patterns into your inner thigh.Â
You sighed contentedly into the kiss, finally experiencing what you had craved for years, your hand snaked up to hold Joelâs face as you deepened the kiss; hungry to taste more of the man. Joel tasted like smoke faintly, salty from the foods you had eaten and there was the distinct taste of hops from the beer he had drank. Your fingers intertwined into his greying hair and you gave it a testing tug; Joel groaned and allowed his tongue to swipe across your bottom lip. Eagerly, you opened your mouth and urged the kiss to be deepened, taking as much of him in as you could in that moment.Â
Joel saw this as his opportunity to advance his hand, he slipped his fingers under the hem of your skirt and let them stroke across the damp fabric of your panties. You whimpered into the kiss, your hips bucked forward searching for further contact. He couldnât help but smile at how undone you were already. Joel teased his fingers across the waistband of the lace fabric of your panties, teasingly slow, just as you were about to pull away from the kiss and protest he allowed two fingers to slip into your wet folds and agonisingly slowly circle your swollen clit.Â
âFuck,â he growled lowly. âSo fuckinâ wet for me already, darlinâ?â
You nodded, gripping at Joelâs forearm as he started to rhythmically circle and play with your clit. He was right, you were near sopping as he slipped through your folds.Â
âWanted this for s-so long,â you whimpered. You couldnât quite believe this was real, you were almost convinced you would wake up any moment, sprawled out on your bed with your fingers deep inside of yourself and not actually in your car, with Joel Millerâs fingers close to making you cum already.Â
âYeah?â Joel asked, his fingers speeding up. âWanted to feel my fingers on your wet pussy, making you feel good? Huh? How does it feel to have my fingers finally in you?â Joel spoke, his voice a low huff as his fingers worked quickly.Â
âSo. Good.â You moaned, the noise low and breathy. âFeels so good. Iâm going to cum. Please.â Â
Joel groaned, he still couldnât believe this was happening to him. Since you started maturing over the past couple of years he had thought so many times about how much he would love to corrupt you; to have his fingers, mouth and cock making you fall apart at the seams. Just anything to make you feel good.Â
âThatâs it, atta girl. Cum for me, good girl.â Joel whispered, his lips ghosting over your ear as he sunk a digit into you abruptly and let his palm bump up against your clit.
That was it, the white hot, searing heat in your stomach erupted and your eyes screwed themself shut so tight you saw white patterns dancing behind your eyelids. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip so hard the familiar metallic tang flooded your mouth, anything to stop you from alerting the neighbourhood with your screams. If that You that wasnât just the best orgasm of your life, you would have been slightly embarrassed at quickly he had made you cum.Â
Joel barely moved his finger in you, just circled it slightly but his palm nudged your clit as he worked your through your orgasm and it made you whimper loudly, your body flinching with over sensitivity. He took the hint and removed his hand from your wrecked panties and brought it up to his mouth, sucking his digits to clean them from your juices.Â
âTaste so sweet, just like a peach.â He groaned, his fingers popping from his mouth, the noise startling you from your orgasmic comedown. There it was again, your nickname but now it just sounded sinful and you knew going forward, you wouldnât be able to hear it without getting wet and embarrassed.Â
When you finally regained some composure, you looked at Joel; your lips were swollen and red and your cheeks had a light flush settled on them. He smiled, thinking you were truly the most perfect sight he had ever seen. Your hand reached over to his lap, you had a hunger and needed to curb the insatiable need for his cock. Your small hand palmed him through his jeans, he was rock hard and fuck, he was big. You swallowed, almost nervously at the thought of his large cock stretching your tight hole out. Of course you had slept with people, you werenât a virgin but your previous boyfriend was nowhere near that big and he definitely couldnât make you come that hard, even on his best days. You gently squeezed at his length, stroking him through the rough fabric.Â
âNot here, darlinâ. How about we go back to mine so I can properly appreciate you?â He asked, and just as you opened your mouth to protest saying you wanted him right there and now he spoke once more. âIâll drive, dunno if you can drive properly after that, little girl. I saw how hard you came on my fingers, now imagine how hard you could cum on my cock.â
Your whole body shuddered involuntarily, never in all your years of knowing Joel had you heard such filthy things from his mouth; he had always been the perfect Southern gentleman. You were soon pulled out of your thoughts by Joel opening your car door.Â
âShuffle over.â He commanded.Â
You nodded dumbly and did as you were told. Joel swiftly started the car and continued the drive back to his, it barely took ten minutes but every minute felt like torture; your mouth watered at the thought of Joel filling your holes, using you how he pleased, your core ached with the need to be full of Joel again.Â
Once the car was parked, Joel hopped out and was once again opening your door for you, you exited the car and grimaced at the cool air hitting your skin. You felt Joelâs hand on the small of your back, guiding you into his home, a place you had been hundredâs of times before but this time you felt nervous.Â
He opened his front door for you and you walked in, just as you were about to turn and speak to the male he was holding your hips in his large hands and pressing your smaller frame against the wall. His lips were on yours and starting a bruising kiss, once again your hands found their way into his hair and you moaned softly. You wanted to be stuck like this forever, with his soft lips on yours and his rough facial hair scratching your skin slightly reminding you exactly who was kissing you.Â
âPlease donât tease, I just want you so badly Joel. I have for years, b-been thinking about your cock filling me up for years.â You whined, sounding like a petulant child.Â
âAnd Iâll be fillinâ you up real soon, sweet girl. But how about I make you feel good again, yeah? You think you can be good for me and cum again, I wanna truly taste how sweet you are, sugar.â He growled, his lips trailing rough kisses down your neck. God how he wished he could mark you up, head to toe, just so people would know you were all his.
Your knees buckled, and your body fell against Joelâs slightly, causing him to laugh breathily; no woman had ever reacted like that to him before, let alone just his words but then again, no woman was like you. He took you by the hand and led you up to his room, you couldnât help but take in your surroundings, you had been in Joelâs room a couple times before but you had never noticed just how much it smelt like him.Â
âHow about we get you nice and comfortable, letâs get those clothes off you. Canât wait to see your body.â He started by pushing your plaid shirt off your shoulders, throwing it over to the side; the heavy fabric landed with a dull thud onto his wooden floor and with that he swiftly removed your tank top. Somewhere along the way you had both kicked your shoes off but your brain was too murky to fully register it.Â
Joelâs rough hands slid up your sides, he was drinking in every inch of your curves and soft skin; in the wake of his hands your skin was freckled with goosebumps.Â
âSo beautiful,â he breathed, a dim light casting beautiful shadows over his face. You felt embarrassed as his eyes fully drank in your form. âMay I?â He asked, voice soft and smooth like honey, his hands were at the clasp of your bra and you simply nodded. It seemed like a trivial thing to ask permission for considering less than thirty minutes ago you were cumming around his fingers.Â
He removed your bra, your perky breasts bounced ever so as the supportive fabric was gone. Your nipples hardened as the cool air hit them, pulling the sensitive skin tight. Joel could have devoured you whole, right there and then. His large, calloused hands came up to hold your breasts, his thumbs swiping over your nipples almost in a testing fashion. He did it again when it elicited a moan from your throat, he pinched the sensitive buds and your back arched towards him.Â
âJoel, I canât take it. Please.â You whined, his touches were entirely too much yet not enough all at once. It was your own form of perfect torture.Â
The older male was loving this, watching your eager reactions as he toyed with your body, his cock was hard and leaking in his jeans and he couldnât wait to be inside of you.Â
âBe patient, darlinâ. We have all night.â He smirked, slowly sinking to his knees in front of you.Â
His rough hands begrudgingly left the peaks of your breasts and worked their way down to the zip of your tennis skirt, he unzipped the fabric causing it to fall to the floor. You took the cue and kicked it to side, out of the way. Joelâs fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties once more and slid them down your legs, you rested onto his shoulder and stepped out of them, just before you could kick them to the side, he was bunching them up and shoving them into his back pocket.Â
This man â he would be the death of you, you just knew it.Â
You were about to make a comment and protest but Joel was stood once again and gently pushing you back onto the bed behind you; you fell onto the plush mattress with ease, your thighs falling open without being asked to do so. You felt exposed, vulnerable but above all else, you felt needy.Â
âGood girl, without even being told to lie like that. Such a beautiful girl.â He remarked, pulling his shirt over his head and slipping his jeans from his thick thighs.Â
You rested up on your elbows to peer at Joel as he undressed and your throat tightened, all the air in the room seeming to have evaporated immediately. He was beautiful, all harsh lines to the outside world but in the glow of his bedroom now, he looked soft and warm. You were in deep, and you knew it meant deep trouble.Â
He palmed himself through his boxers just to stave off some of the throbbing and your eyes followed eagerly, the thick outline of his cock making your walls clench around nothing. Wordlessly Joel knelt at the end of the bed, latched his hands onto your thighs and pulled you closer so you could feel his hot breath fanning over your sopping folds. Your hips bucked into thin air, nothing there to help you and he laughed, it was quiet and breathy but he definitely laughed â fucker.
Joel trailed two fingers through your folds, collecting your arousal on them once again and without warning he plunged them into you roughly. You gasped, your back arched off the bed and your fists balled into the sheets either side of yourself. His fingers were so thick, so much thicker than any man you had been with before; you werenât sure whether that was down to the age difference or just Joelâs build. He slowly pumped his fingers in and out rhythmically, building speed and curling them so they brushed that perfect, sensitive spot inside of you.Â
Your mouth was agape as you laid there, completely at his will, writhing under his relentless touch. Moan after moan, after moan spilled from your parted lips and just as you felt the tension tighten in your stomach Joel lapped his tongue of your clit. Your back arched and the filthiest moan escaped your mouth, you werenât even sure how that noise had come from you but it had and it had Joel smirking as his tongue swiped through your folds again just to circle around your clit once more.Â
Your hand laced its way into Joelâs hair, your fingers gripping the strands with a deathly vice and he groaned into your pussy causing vibrations to ripple through you. You werenât sure how you were still holding on but your stomach was twisting, tightening and bubbling as your orgasm approached once again.Â
âMmm, good girl.â He praised as your walls clenched around his fingers as he continued to pump them into your wet heat. The room was filled with obscenely filthy noises; your moans echoed throughout the empty space as Joel slurped up your juices.Â
âJoel ââ you sobbed, your back arching impossibly high off the mattress below you. âC-can I cum? Please. Need it.â You asked pathetically.
Why were you asking permission?
Never before had you felt so submissive for a partner in bed, never once had you asked permission to cum, no, normally you would be chasing your high, just trying to grasp at a fraction of how good Joel was making you feel.Â
âThatâs it baby, such a good girl for asking permission. Wanna make you feel as good as I can, peach.â He groaned in between pleasuring you. âCum all over my face, wanna taste as much as I can.â
That was it, the coil in your stomach snapped abruptly and you were gushing onto Joelâs fingers, a pleasured scream tumbling from your lips. Never, not once had you squirted before, yet here you were, soaking the sheets beneath you and in turn, Joelâs beard and your own thighs. You would have felt ashamed if you didnât feel such pure euphoria in the moment. Your back was twisted and contorted off the sheets as Joel worked you through it, making you squirt further.
He could have cum in his boxers, like a teenager as the first drops of your orgasm hit his face. He lapped up as much of you as he could, like a man who had been starved for years. And he had, he had been starved from allowing himself to have this moment with you and now he had you, he wanted to savour and devour you as much as you would allow him to.Â
âJoel,â you whimpered, your thighs trapping his head. âC-canât do it anymore!â You sounded wrecked, your throat felt raw from how loudly you had been moaning.Â
Joel laughed, pushed your thighs apart and removed his fingers from you. You winced and your walls clenched around air, feeling so empty once again.Â
âPlease, p-please can I have you now?â You asked, positioning yourself on your knees in front of Joel. You reached your hand to feel his hard cock through his boxers once again and this time, he didnât stop you.Â
You abruptly pulled the checkered fabric from his waist and his boxers pooled at his feet; freeing his cock finally, it sprang up against his stomach and you all but moaned.Â
âYouâre soâŚâ you whispered, looking up at Joel through your lashes as your small hand wrapped around his thick length. The tip was dark, a bead of pre-cum glistened at the slit and all you wanted was to taste it, to taste Joelâs musk. âYouâre so big, fuck.â You cursed, your tongue sticking out to kitten lick at his tip.Â
You wanted to sink your mouth down his length to fully take him in so your nose could bury into Joelâs thatch of dark hair but you resisted and gave him another lick, tongue flicking into his slit.
Joel groaned, a low and gruff noise from the back of his throat. âFuck, darlinâ, I gotta be in you. None of this.â He spoke lowly, his thumb coming down to swipe along your bottom lip and you quickly sucked it into his mouth.Â
âPlease, daddy.â You whispered, the honorific slipping from your throat before you could process it. A look of horror washed over your features and you knelt up higher to look Joel in the eyes. âI â I, â sorry. I didnât mean ââ
Your fumbling words were cut off when Joel placed his big hand around your throat and brought you in for a kiss. You were trouble, you were sinful and he was damned. He had been called daddy a few times by younger women, they thought it was sexy; the way they would flutter their lashes at him at the bar, saunter over to him and whisper âhey daddy.â Normally it made his skin crawl and caused his body to cringe but the way it almost innocently slipped from your lips, it was like a curse from the devil himself and it made Joelâs cock jump, nudging your stomach.Â
He squeezed his hand around your throat and you smiled? Trouble. Nothing but pure trouble.Â
âNot such a good girl, after all, huh? Been acting all innocent all these years.â He whispered, his thumbs squeezing near your pulse point, hard enough to make your head feel lighter and floaty but soft enough not to hurt you deliberately. âGod, what would your old man say about this? See his little girl begging to cum, see you squirting on his best friendâs face. Smiling as I wrap a hand round your throat. Your trouble, darlinâ. Nothinâ but damn trouble.â He whispered, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip before peppering small nips to the flesh of your neck.Â
Your legs trembled as they held you up, it was wrong but his words went straight to your core and soaked you further, you didnât think your arousal could get higher but here you were. He was right though; your dad would be horrified, would be downright mortified to know what his daughter was truly like and at the hands of his best friend? That would destroy your lives. All three of you. You pushed that bitter thought away as your head lulled back and you allowed Joel to grope at your chest, hungry to feel your body once more.Â
âSay it again,â he growled into your ear as he pushed your body back down onto the bed. âCall me it again as I fuck you real good. How âbout I show you what itâs like to have a real man fuck you, not some silly boy.â He said, his voice gruff whilst he stroked the tip of his cock through your folds.Â
âDaddy,â you whimpered, parting your legs further to allow Joel more room to enter you. âDaddy please fuck me.â You begged, sounding weak.Â
âOh, of course, baby girl.â He cooed, pushing his cock into you roughly until he was bottomed out. âFuck,â he cursed.Â
âS-so big, daddy.â You whimpered, your hands grasping at Joelâs biceps, just trying to hold onto something as you adjusted to the slight burn of him stretching you out. âMmm, please move.â You moaned.Â
âAtta girl, taking daddyâs cock so good already.â Joel groaned and he swore that he saw heaven in that moment; your tight body below him, contorting to how he needed. He had already built up a punishing pace, hips drawing back to slam forward roughly. The room was filled with echoes of your skin slapping together, his deep pants and your wanton moans and weak, pleading whimpers.Â
âIâve wanted this for sâlong,â you sobbed, your eyes falling shut as the tension built further in your stomach once more. You knew from this point forward you would be wrecked for any other man, no one would be able to make you feel this good. Not even close. âT-touched myself so many times thinking about you fucking me.â You admitted, the words falling without thought. âWant you to cum in me, wanna be full of just you, Joel.â You moaned.Â
Joel was a goner, he knew he wouldnât be able to keep this up for much longer, you were too tight, too wet and just too good for him to have any real stamina. Your admission didnât help matters, either. The thought of you spread out on your own sheets, touching yourself to him?!
He gripped one of your hips tightly, hard enough to leave bruises on your delicate skin as he fucked into you harder with deep groans. âCanât be saying that to me, peach. Gonna cum too quickly.â He hissed, his free hand snaking between you to trace circles around your clit.Â
âI c-canât do it again,â you stuttered, your body burning from the inside and out. âToo much.â You breathed, your sharp nails clawing at any bare skin you could find. Just anything to anchor you down as Joel pulled another orgasm from you.Â
âI think you can. Hmm?â Joel spoke. âWhat you think? Wanna be a real good girl for daddy and give me one more?â His thumb sped up but his hips slowed to a sensual roll, his cock head bumping the electrified bundle of nerves deep in your walls. You clenched around him tightly and he moaned, louder than before. âThatâs it, baby. Thatâs it. One more, come on now. Come on.â He groaned, working your clit faster.Â
You whined, the noise stuck in your throat as your back arched once more and you clenched around Joel before gushing around him with a moan of his name. âJoel, Joel, Joel, Joel, Jâ.â Your eyes had rolled back, any further and they would have disappeared into the back of your skull.
âSuch a good girl, fuck. So tight. Thatâs it, squirt on my cock.â He groaned, removing his hand from your clit to hold down both your hips as he fucked into you with more fervour. He wasnât going to last long, but he also knew you couldnât take much more. You were cock drunk and spent. âGonna fill you up so. fuckinâ. good.â He huffed, accentuating each word with a thrust.Â
âDaddy,â you cried, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as your body went into overdrive.Â
That was it, thatâs all it took. Joel looked down at you, your were a mess and all from him, tears fell onto your cheeks as he finished inside of you with a groan of your name. âShhh, thatâs it sweet girl. Such a good girl.â He cooed, his hand cupping your cheek as he emptied himself into you.Â
You moaned, feeling the hot liquid of his cum fill you up, your walls clenched weakly, just trying to milk him of every drop and you turned to kiss his hand. The room smelt of sex, the air was thick and hot and sleep called to you like a sweet song.Â
Joel pulled out of you with a hiss and you whimpered, your body felt like there were a hundred tiny pin pricks on your skin. You were overstimulated and completely spent but ultimately, you were so happy.Â
âHmmm, mâsleepy.â You hummed contentedly.
âI know, sweet girl but canât sleep here. The sheets are a mess. How about you have a rest in the spare room and Iâll go sleep on the couch?â He asked softly, brushing your sweat-dampened hair from your face.Â
âSorry about the sheets,â You giggled, eyes heavy-lidded and barely open. âAlthough, was kinda your fault. Youâre a dirty old man, too good at that.â You teased, still giggling.Â
âYeah, yeah. Iâm going to hell.â He huffed, his voice all too serious.Â
Joel scooped your naked body off his bed with a gruff noise and before you knew it, you were in another bed with the duvet wrapped around you. Joel had cleaned you up with a damp towel, dressed you in one of his shirts and wrapped you up into the sheets.Â
âStay with me,â you whispered as Joel turned to walk out, assuming you had already passed out for the night. âP-please stay with me.â You cried, tears filling your eyes.Â
He smiled and obliged with no arguments. The mattress dipped beside you and he wrapped his large arms around your waist, pulling you close.
âOf course Iâll stay, peach.â He whispered and pressed a kiss to your temple.
You hummed sleepily, your eyes already closed and you felt peaceful. It was the most peaceful you had felt in a long time. Joel was there, you finally felt content and safe in his arms. You knew trouble was brewing on the horizon but right there, in that moment, you couldnât find it in you to actually care.
Everything felt like it was too much, of course your fantasy came true but what did this mean for your futures? You only assumed it would be messy and all too hard on you both.Â
You drifted off to sleep peacefully that night, the most peaceful you had been in far too long. Your senses screamed Joel and you felt safe. You knew trouble was brewing on the horizon but for now, you were content and happy.
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#joel x reader#joel miller x reader#dbf!joel miller#dbf!joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#pedro pascal#tlou series#age gap joel miller#minors do not interact
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Hello sweet toxic! May I pretty please have an age gap fic or drabble with game version of Jackson Joel ( my favorite long and grey haired man )!
Maybe something where in the beginning Joel comes off as shy and nervous and sweet but once he and reader get together heâs got the nastiest fucking mouth sheâs ever heard once heâs confident that she likes him as a love interest
parts
JOEL x f!READER | 1.8k
"He scanned you head to toe, then let out an alright fine sigh. 'Tonight, ya can leave any time. Yaâainât mine yet, so ya donât gotta do anything I say...'"
NOTES: Hi sweet nonnie â¤ď¸ I watched some tlou 2 gameplay for this, so I hope it helped. idk if I met the "love" interest part but she makes her interest known. Joel is quiet, then dom / dirty
WARNINGS: 18+ Age gap (Joel 60s/reader 20s-40s), objectification of reader, slutty descriptions of men as usual. Joel calls her "honey" and one time, "little girl" (condescending). Beginnings of D/s dynamic, no arrangement, no consummation. Joel holds out, a little grumpy/mean. talk of being owned. degradation, praise, body/pussy inspection.
He stood like a man who no one could bother. Stone cold and solid, with a face that always meant business. His clothes were rugged and worn-in like a cowboy, and the obscenity of his tight jeans left nothing to the imagination, from the back or the front.
The first time you became aware of him, it was from behind, and you did a double take. He ran a hand down the back of his head, smoothing his shoulder-length mane with his other hands on his hip. He was talking to Tommy, and when you heard his voice, the twang put you at ease. He sounded like a nice guy, nicer than he looked.
Your first time at the mess hall, he was kind enough to show you around. You took that as a go-ahead to follow him around anywhere. You began to watch him around Jackson. Not exactly stalking him, but you didn't have anyone else to latch onto. You learned where he went, and you happened to go there too. You were full of questions about how things worked. He always took it seriously. He was a good teacher and didnât seem interested in anything but helping you when you wanted help.
He taught you how to ride a horseâhe must not have noticed you arrived on one. Your loins buzzed as he demonstrated how to sit. His big hands on the reins and the horn were enough to make you wet, but the bulge of his jeans and the way it shifted as he started off at a slow walk. âNow look close, okay? See how I hold it?â You were looking very close.
He taught you how to shoot. Stood behind you and you never felt more safe than holding a pistol with his arms around yours, his chest against your back.
âAttagirl,â he said when you shot the glass bottle target. âLook at that,â he marveled.
To be fair, you werenât (just) trying to get him in bed. You had lost your traveling party and you joined another one but you felt like the odd one out. It never felt like you had someone to look out for you, specifically you. You hadnât felt the affection or encouragement of a big, capable man in a long time.
Still, there was no denying you had a crush on him. It felt like a shock that he didnât have women following him around in droves, until you got to know him and found out he was pretty shy. He didnt't seem to have much interest in anything but practicalities and survival. He was sweet, but never crossed a line.
Even when you started crossing some yourself. He took you on an errand one day, and he was buckling in your seatbelt, and you stopped is hand. You put his hand on your thigh, and watched his face. He kept the same, composed expression, but he couldnât hide the blush that rose to his cheeks. He left his hand there on your thigh for a moment, then pulled away without acknowledging your move. The time it took him to move his hand made you think he liked it there. It was as though he didnât want to take it the wrong way, wasn't sure your intentions. He cleared his throat, finished buckling you in, and ran his hand over his smooth, gray hair. It was always so well-kept. You had to wonder what itâd look like first thing in the morning,
One night, at the tipsy bison, you came in by yourself in a short dress. He looked you up and down and gave you a curious look, but didnât acknowledge you. He was talking to Tommy. Tommy craned his neck to get a look, raised his eyebrows, and gave you a nod before grinning at his brother and resuming their conversation. Tommy was hot, too, but he was taken. Otherwise youâd love to see him in nothing but that ponytail. You sat at the other end of the bar and Joel tried not to look at you, but Tommy gave you a wink.
Another night, you showed up to the mess hall too late for dinner, and he was on his way out. He lived close enough and offered to make you something at his place, no problem.
When you came inside, you took off your boots, he took your coat, and when he finished hanging it up, he looked back to see you in a thin, low cut shirt and no bra. His mouth hung open and you gave him a flirtatious smile, as though to say, what?
âYaâainât cold, are ya?â He asked with a pink hue creeping up his neck. He rubbed his beard.
âNo, are you?â You asked.
âNo,â he muttered, then composed himself and went to the kitchen alone.
When he came to serve dinner, your eyes were on his jeans. The heft of his manhood was always apparent, but there seemed to have been some growth in the time since youâd been at his house. You leaned over the table as you ate your meal, and he tried to keep his eyes off your chest. It was a small, round table, and there wasnât much of anywhere else to look. He looked at his meal as he ate. You looked at his forearms.
After he finished eating, he dabbed each corner of his mouth with his napkin, folded it, dabbed his beard, and cleared his throat. Meanwhile, your foot nudged his ankle. His face darkened. Your foot moved up his pants, and reached the seat of his chair. He didnât bat your foot away, but he didnât look at you until your foot slid right up his thigh and gently nudged the hard bulge in his jeans.
His strong chest heaved, and he didnât make a move, but his face was reddening as he cleaned his hands with the same napkin.
He looked up as he finished wiping his hands. âThink Iâm your plaything, little girl?â He harshly smacked the cloth napkin down on the table, then his strong hand wrapped around your entire foot in his lap. His eyes darkened with a forward tilt of his head, and his voice took on an edge. âOr you tryinâ to be mine?â
You rubbed your lips together and looked at him fondly. He raised his eyebrow to prod for a response.
âWanna be yours,â you answered matter-of-factly.
âYou dunno what you want, girl.â He pushed your foot away, then adjusted himself.
When he stood up to take the dirty dishes, the silhouette in his jeans made you throb. He did the dishes, and when he was finished, he opened a beer.
He walked through the dining area on his way to the living room. âStill here,â he muttered, but didnât stop to talk. He sat down on the sofa and turned on the radio, not inviting you to join him.
You joined him anyway.
You sat on the sofa, not too close, with your hands folded in your lap.
âYou wanna know what it means to be mine?â Joel asked.
âYes, please,â you answered.
âIt means I own you,â he said.
âOkay,â you agreed. âIâm yours.â
He looked at you skeptically. "Iâainât agreed to own ya yet,â he clarified. "Ain't just something ya do. Takes work from both'a us."
"of course," you acknowledged.
âGotta know itâs somethinâ ya really want, and if it is, weâll agree on some rules, safe words and shit.â
âOkay,â you agreed excitedly.
He scanned you head to toe, then let out an alright fine sigh. âTonight, ya can leave any time. Yaâainât mine yet, so ya donât gotta do anything I say, okay?â
You nodded.
âBut later on if ya *are* mine, you do what I say, when I say it.â
He was so serious and official about this, it sounded like he was briefing his men for some kind of operation.
âOkayâ you agreed.
"so what's it mean to be mine?" He asked.
you shrugged. "You do what you want with me."
He nodded hesitantly.
âIt means I take care'a ya, protect ya, and I own your body. it ainât yours anymore,â he looked you up and down. âItâs mine,â he stated emphatically. â*if* I decide I want it.â
âWhy wouldnât you?â You asked.
He blew out air through puffed cheeks as if there was a long list.
âAinât got patience for brats.â
âI can be good,â you promised.
âAinât got patience for tears either. Too distracting out here, still gotta focus on survivin'.'
You tried not to show your worry.
âAinât sure ya can handle it,â he admitted
"Ainât lookin to break in some tight little pussy while she cries and bleeds, either.â he cocked an eyebrow at you, and grabbed the massive protrusion in his jeans. âThis ainât no joke, honey. I donât wanna hurt ya.â
âIâm not a virgin,â you insisted.
âYeah? Well ya better fit four fingers 'fore ya 'spect me to try it."
âAnd I promise Iâll do what you say.â
Joel sighed. âAlright, take your clothes off.." He held up his hands to acknowledge your freedom "OR leave, and weâll forget this ever happenedâ
You obediently stripped.
He took sips of his beer as he watched your body emerge from your clothes. âAlright,â he nodded. âGood girl.â
Once you were bare naked, he instructed you to turn around. You did just as he asked.
âGod damn,â he whispered. âNow, câmere.â
With him manspreading on the sofa, he made you stand between his knees and bend over.
âSpread your pussy for me,â he demanded.
You hesitated.
âDonât have to,â he reminded you.
You reached back and tried to do it with one hand, one finger on each side of the lips. âLike this?â
âBoth hands, darlinâ. â
You spread your pussy lips for him with both hands.
âGood girl,â he said. âWide as ya can. Wanna see your parts if theyâre gonna be mine.â
You pulled wider
He let out a low whistle. âJuicy little thing. Sure would like to use it...But Iâm thinkinâ it might not fit, honey.â
âWhy donât you try it?â You asked.
You turned around and tried to straddle him. He visibly tensed. You reached for the bulge in his jeans.
He snatched your wrist to stop you. âYou donât get to touch me without askinâ,â he admonished you. âNotice I didnât touch you that whole time?â
Your face heated in shame, and his hand loosened. You got off of him.
âThatâs enough for tonight,â he said. âIâll think about it.â
âYouâll think about it? â
âIâll think about it.â
Your eyes were tearing up.
âYa did good, honey, itâs okay,â he promised. He picked up your clothes and helped dress you. âJust ainât the kinda choice ya make on the fly. You gotta think about it too, okay?â
You finished getting dressed and nodded.
âIâll think about it too,â you agreed.
âGood girl,â he answered, rose to his feet, and gave you a kiss on the forehead. Then he got your coat and opened the door. As you began to leave, he stopped you, âHey,â he lowered his voice. âYa got a beautiful body. Anyoneâd be lucky to own it.â
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Thank you for reading đ¤đ¤
#joel miller smut#cw age gap#d/s dynamic#cw objectification#toxicanonymity â ď¸#pixel joel#game joel x reader#joel miller x reader#tlou fanfiction
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lesson one: sensitive
ko-fi | series masterlist
pairing: porn star!joel miller x f!reader
summary: under several notable circumstances, mr. miller finally decided that he'd be the best teacher for your first debut into sexual activities. even when all of it is to prepare you for your successful date.
word count: 5.4k (i know.. i went a little crazy on this lol)
warnings: explicit (18+), set in 2013, pre-outbreak, age gap (joel in mid 30's and reader in early 20's), inexperienced but not dumb reader, fingering, he's kinda mean, check umbrella warning on series masterlist
notes: i had so much fun writing this! tbh this one is super filthy compared to the other one so.. forgive me 𤲠COMMENT n REBLOG if u liked it
âI could take you home if youâd like. Pretty girls like you shouldnât roam the street alone.â
Simon, more commonly referred to as Robotic Class Guy or French Fries, was surprisingly not half as bad as you thought he would be. He had all the height of a man but none of the bulk. From behind he could be easily spotted as someone in their late teens to early thirties, mostly blaming his horrid graphic tee and skinny jeans combo, but when he turned that face was all boy. His caramel hair flopped over his eyes in the way no office worker could get away with and on his wrist were bracelets in woven leather.Â
At first, you accepted his awkward invite out of spite.Â
Just to rid yourself of a certain plague festering upon your head, feasting on your brain cells so that youâd think of nothing but Mr. Miller in all his glory. Him with his tight worn-out jeans, spread open enough that you could see a naughty peak of his bulge, while he watched the soccer game. Him with his shirt off, bathing in the summer-induced moisture, while he mowed the front lawn and edged the curb. Him with his thumb parting your lips, looking at you like heâs about to consume you alive, but of course he didnât.Â
At least now that Simon came around, youâd have a new port to anchor your boat on.
âNo, thanks, Iâm alright. My..â
Who was Mr. Miller to you again?Â
Your.. father? Absolutely not. Even if heâs taken you in as a part of the Miller family, just like how he used to say, you would feel like itâd be morbidly repulsive to deduce him to that particular role. For fuckssake, you stick a finger up your cunt every single week to the thought of him fucking you like one of his girls.
Then would a family friend be better of a word? Or should you just say that heâs a guardian of yours? But thatâd be confusing, wouldnât it? You glanced at your watch, counting the hour and minute hand as if itâd give you a revelation on how to answer Simonâs pop quiz.
âSomeone promised to pick me up.â
That sure did sound ominous.
With a promise to leave a message to his cell once youâve returned home safely, you stepped out of the quaint local restaurant. It was warm outside and you werenât particularly fond of that. Heat has always been your mortal enemy; something about the musty scent of middle school boysâ armpits after PE class mixed in with the pungent perfumes they use to try and hide it has left you permanently traumatized. Your once-cheery mood had long evaporated along with any semblance of coolness. You tugged at the hem of your sundress, fanning yourself with your hand in a futile attempt to find relief from the stifling heat. This is hell!
Where was Mr. Miller?
Mr. Miller must've read your mind, because a honk quickly resonated. He was on the very corner of the parking lot; his large pickup truck looked hilariously out of place when compared to the array of city cars parked by his side. You swore you could see him grin from behind the shaded tint of his window, perhaps entertained at your almost too obvious annoyance. The thought made your heart jump and maybe even did a front-flip. God, youâre helpless!
As you beelined down the sidewalk and on to him, the heat seemed to intensify with every step. Beads of sweat formed on your forehead, causing your hair to stick in weird shapes. You just hope that his truckâs AC works.
âHi.. Hi, Mr. Miller.â
âHey, sweetheart. How was it?â
The nickname never ceased to exude so much power. âSweetheartâ made you feel as if a tail had grown out right from the hilt of your ass and you had no other choice than to swish it around excitedly. You propped up one leg on the washed-off gray carpet, before swinging yourself into the vehicle in one go. The door closed behind with a loud thud. As you leaned back, you cringed at the feeling of your sweat-soaked dress clinging onto your skin. You felt like some marinated beef, sticky and in need of a quick shower.
âIt was alright,â you hummed.
âAlright? Now that made me all the more curious,â he grinned, nudging your side with the edge of his elbow. âComâon now. Tell me all about it, will ya?â
âMr. Miller, are you trying to embarrass me?â
Mr. Millerâs soothing brown eyes that were stuck on the glittering street lights came flickering over to you, as if heâs actually afraid that perhaps heâs made you uncomfortable. His shoulders squared and his jaw slackened for just a split second as he tried to grasp for any nuance youâve just given. You then smiled at him, relieving him of his worries.
Itâs a little jarring to say that you think heâs quite cute. In the same way people find puppies cute, or those strawberry-shaped trinkets. Heâs a little socially-awkward in his own way. Embarrassed to ask the waitress to bring his plate back, but would be confident bullying his cock into a tight cunt. Would definitely get kooky when asked to join a parents-teacher conference, but would whisper filthy things on the internet.
âI ainât tryna make you embarrassed,â he huffed out. âI just wanna know youâre safe.â
How nice. If only he knew why you went on dates in the first place.
âHeâs alright, Mr. Miller. Kind, decently groomed, respectful,â you replied, flicking through your Twitter feed mindlessly. âBetter than most college guys.â
âDid he pick you up?â
Your forehead scrunched up. âI ordered a cab.â
âDid he at least get the door for you?â
âItâs not exactly the 1900âs, is it?â you quipped back at him.
He raised his eyebrows, waiting for your answer.
âIf youâre that curious, then no.â
âWell then, did he pay for dinner?â
âNo, well.. I did offer for us to split it,â you reasoned.
âWell, sweetie, heâs not too respectful. Is he?â
âYeah.. but heâs cute.â
Heâs cute and youâre desperate to get over Mr. Miller. Terribly so. At first, the entire situation with having your pornstar crush be the head of your host family was hilarious, itâs a joke written by itself. But then the desires went through the roof in a matter of weeks and youâre sure that youâd actually jump him one of these days. Heâs attached to the back of your mind like some ghostly presence. Everything he said and done carved at your brittle wall of determination and one day itâs all going to fall apart like broken glass. You needed to stop it from happening.Â
There was a minute or so where he didnât have anything to say. He hadnât let go of the handbrakes either, though he appeared to be squeezing the leather cover of the steering wheel tighter.
âCute ainât enough for a man, sweetheart.â
Mr. Miller finally pushed down the handbrakes and released the pickup truck from the small parking lot. His large hands skillfully turned the wheels to fit through the tiny gaps, guiding the vehicle towards the open road. You shut your eyes for a good minute, then you let out a weighted sigh. Almost as if youâre a deflated balloon.
The drive was going to be a long one, considering the restaurant youâre on was in the heart of the town and Mr. Millerâs humble abode was more towards the outskirts. Would he continue preaching about the importance of Southern manners and being a gentleman? Because if he did, perhaps youâd just shut him up with a kiss.
âIâm just a little nervous,â you broke the silence.
âBecause of the boy?â
âSorta, yeah. Itâs my first time..â
You clicked your phone shut, stuffing it on the cup holder next to the car stick. The entire conversation was making you nauseous. You had to press on the button on your left to slide down the windows in order to take in fresh air. Through the open window, a gentle breeze tousled the top of your hair, carrying with it the familiar scent of Summer in Austin. As he drove closer into the outskirts of town, the lights gradually faded behind into a sea of twinkling stars.
âFirst time in what?â
âIn all this,â your hand motioned the idea abstractly.
âYouâve never dated?â
An enthusiastic grin snaked its way to his lips.
âI have! But itâs not- itâs not real. Itâs middle school romance. We meet each other in the hallways, hold hands and giggle about it, then go on pizza dates,â you tried to explain. âIâve never dated properly.â
âWhy not?â
âBecause,â you tousled your hair in frustration. âJust because, Mr. Miller. Iâm not sure either. Maybe Iâm just comfortable in my own little bubble?â
âThen this boy.. Whatâs his name again?â
âSimon.â
âRight, Simon. Are you thinking of dating Simon properly?â
âMaybe,â you muttered.
âMaybe I could teach you,â he paused. âWell, that is if youâd like this old man to teach you old tricks.â
Your hands tightly clutched the edge of your seat. A rise of bile disturbed your throat's peace as a knot of anxiety started to form in your stomach. This is what youâre working towards.
You didnât want to admit it, because admitting means legitimizing what you had in mind, but you were hoping for him to offer you help in any way that he felt was right. Despite your.. odd relationship with him, he was your guardian and youâve seen the way he dealt with all Sarahâs problems with soft-spoken words and fair actions. You trusted him to help you delve into this new world of adult romance, but itâs not like youâre expecting for him to agree on it. Shit, shit, shit! You couldnât think straight.
âComâon then. Tell me what youâre so nervous of.â
âYouâre gonna laugh at me,â you groaned.
âIâm not!â
âYou are,â you persisted.
âFine. I promise not to laugh.â
You took a deep breath. The single word sticky on the end of your tongue.
âSex.â
The pickup truck swerved.
To your surprise, instead of howling and laughing at your lack of experience, he was quiet. Awfully so to the point where you think youâd rather have him laugh at your patheticness instead of giving you the cold shoulder. You rolled the window back up, giving him your full attention as you waited for him to do something. He looked tense; the grip he had on the steering wheel was so tight you could see the leather developing crescent-shaped marks. What was he thinking of?
âDo I.. do I have to give you the talk?â
âGod, no! Mr. Miller, Iâm not clueless,â you looked horrified that he even considered giving you the birds and the bees talk. âI am, but I know what happens.â
The hours youâve spent analyzing each and every one of his videos surely made an impact on how you view sex. Perhaps not the most accurate one, since you were merely looking through a 720p video and not being present in the scene, but you knew how sex goes. How it starts, what arousal looks like, what appears to feel good and what doesnât, and how good an orgasm looks like when induced by another person. Mr. Miller might not be aware of how much heâs taught you. Not directly, but in a cause-and-action kind of way.
âThen what are you afraid of?â he hummed.
âMaking a mistake,â you muttered dejectedly. âOf it not feeling good.â
A beat passed.
âDo you..â he struggled to speak properly. âDo you want me to teach you?â
What were you thinking! It was one thing to harbor intense, disgustingly filthy feelings towards a man who perceived you as an addition to his family, but it was another thing to act on it desperately. Your mind reeled back towards the exact moment when you agreed on his proposition. How you agreed on it instantly as if it wasnât even a question, how you nodded your head miserably as if you were afraid that youâd miss this one chance, how you buckled your knees at the thought.
God, how pathetic can you be! You didnât remember much after such a cathartic turn of events. All you managed to compile in that pretty little head of yours was that he took a different interchange, then slipped onto a highway towards.. whatever this place was.
It was on the outskirts of town. Opposite to where he lived. Big trees grew tall and heavy as they provided a mystique veil for the trailer house. You remembered the shade of peeling paint covering the outside, sky blue. The lanterns provided ample lighting for it to be spotted from a distance, but not enough to attract rowdy attention. Mr. Miller told you to come inside first while he secured his pickup truck properly. He mentioned a thing or two about racoons or squirrels, but you were too high off adrenaline to even notice. Being in the property, you instantly knew where you were.
This was his lair.
Where he shoots his videos, where he invites all his pretty co-stars to make them moan and whimper about how good his cock felt and how deep it went, where he edits those striking millennial-core thumbnails. Your throat grew dry and you began to think if itâs time to bail. Heâd understand, wouldnât he? Mr. Miller would just take you home and forget about it. Then, by next summer, youâd be out of his hair and heâd never even think about it.
A creak sounded from the front door. You jumped.
âHi, sweetheart. You okay?â
You nodded. Your entire body went cold, especially the tips of your fingers and toes as you saw him come close. One step at a time. Almost as if heâs trying to make sure he doesnât scare you too much. Mr. Miller looked awfully big up close. You never seemed to notice this entirely when you see him around the house, but when heâs confined in this miniscule trailer house, he looked massive. His presence towered over every last bit of your confidence. Itâs surely crumpling - your confidence - slowly dissipating into thin when he was flushed against your chest.Â
âIâm okay, Mr. Miller.â
He pulled a foldable chair from one of the open compartments, before taking a seat on it. He spread his legs, as always, and had this look in his eyes.Â
âYou sure you wanna do this?â he paused, before resuming. âYou could tell me you donât feel like doinâ this anymore and I could take you home. Wonât talk about it anymore if you donât wanna.â
âI.. I want to do this, Mr. Miller.â
âAre you sure? There ainât no pressure in this. Iâm simply here to help you, sweetheart, so if you feel like-â
âI get it, okay, I get it. I trust you. A lot. And I know youâd be the best person to teach me.â
What were you even saying? This was straight out of your wildest wet dreams and perhaps thatâs why youâre so adamant about it. You watched silently as he contemplated his choices. Mr. Miller scratched his beard for a short while, his gaze focused beyond you and you could almost watch in real-time how his morals and values crumbled onto the creaky floorboards. He stood up from his small chair and headed right towards where you were standing idly. Is this what May felt like in those videos?
âAlright, sweetheart. I ainât a vocal man so this is gonna be challenging even for me,â he chuckled gruffly. âEvery man has their way of settlinâ with their ladies, but I like âem stripped off their clothing first. So will you be a pretty thing and do that for me?â
For a second, you were as still as a rock. Entirely not used to having the person who initiated many if not all of your orgasms giving you these orders in real life. Heâs right there in front of you, flesh and bones, telling you to strip off your clothing. It felt like a fever dream. You mustâve had a weird look on your face, because a grin started to form on those chapped lips of his.
Conscious of the mistake, you quickly reacted. Almost skittishly in a way as you pulled on the zipper thatâs located on your right ribs. Your fingers fumbled with one another, as if itâs been braided into one, but you managed to loosen it after a few attempts. You slipped your right arm under the spaghetti straps, before you slipped the other one. The only thing holding your modesty together was your one arm thatâs holding onto the support-less front flap of your sundress.
âComâon now. Itâs just me. You can act shy and adorable around Simon, but not this old man,â he teased.
You nodded, hesitantly letting your arms fall to the side. The terribly warm weather encouraged you not to wear a bra. Although you wondered if 3 PM you knew that youâre going to be engaging in some promiscuous agenda this evening. You looked up into his eyes for some kind of guidance, in which he responded with a curt nod, before you tugged on the dress so that itâd slide onto the floor.
Now the only piece of modesty youâre wearing is your plain white panties. Your breasts were entirely exposed, cold nipples firming up as it reacted to the change of temperature. This is embarrassing! Mr. Miller was being incredibly methodical in the ways in which he approached the situation, lacking sloppy mouthy kisses and feverish touches.
âSmart girl,â he complimented, almost on instinct. âLetâs get on the bed, yeah?â
You moved adjacent to him. Mr. Miller was gentle when he patted the spot next to him, allowing you to settle down properly while he fixed a pillow behind your back. To think that youâre positioned on the same bed where youâve witnessed him please an array of girls made you feel some sort of way. A hitch in your heart, a twitch in your hole. Youâve never witnessed him this gentle. Heâs always fond of establishing the power he held on the dynamic heâs presented, always telling girls what to do in quick succession and calling them humiliating names if they fail to do as told. With you, he was sweet and rather funny.
âIn my experience, one of the things girls like the most is to be withdrawn from control,â he spoke up into the thick air. You didnât miss the way his eyes cruised along your beaded nipples, or the way it watched you with feral precision. âOf course, it depends on the person. But you. I think youâre a sensitive one, are you?â
You nodded obediently.
âCross your arms behind your back,â he ordered and watched closely as you followed suit. âLean back onto the pillow.â
You copied his order. Only then did your finicky brain finally compute that youâre limited off your movements now. With your body weight acting like paper weight for your arms, itâd be impossible for you to react in quick time.
âGood girl.â
His mindless comment made you tighten your thighs together.
âIâm gonna touch you, okay?â he whispered gently. You could watch how heâs slowly approaching you with much caution. His arms caged you in as it dug into the tangled sheets next to you. Heâs testing the currents, making sure youâre fully consenting to the experience before he makes any mistake that might ruin your perception of sex. âAsk your little friend to touch you slowly. None of that frisky aimless touching. If he pulled on your nipples and called it a day, Iâd leave his ass.â
This little routine he had, the one Wicked Fantasies had, was memorized into your head and to watch it take place right in front of you made you ecstatic. He caressed the side of your face. Gently even with those big, large fingers of his, he managed to take up a good portion of your cheek. Mr. Miller then made his way to your lips. He swiped it once over your upper lip, then another time over your thicker bottom lip. Youâd anticipate for him to stick his thumb in deep enough so that he could see your uvula properly, but he didnât. Instead, he settled on pressing down your tongue as if to pin it against the lower floor of your mouth. A good amount of saliva was collected that when he pulled away, a lewd string remained intact.
âDo you know why I like pinning a girlâs tongue down?â he queried to increase comfort in a way.
âNo,â you whispered breathlessly. âWhy?â
âIt makes âem docile,â he muttered. âEncourages submission and I like a pretty girl who listens.â
Mr. Millerâs fingers dragged through the curves and texture of your warm skin, leaving goosebumps on his wake, before he finally reached your two perky nubs. Each one hardened before he could give them the treatment they both deserved, which in a way broke his routine, but instead of being irritated, he appeared to be pleased.
Girls in his videos werenât as sensitive as you. They didnât get riled up just by a little touching and teasing. Seeing you like this was a refreshing touch. One that made the wrinkles on his forehead ripple as his eyebrows quirked. He circled his calloused finger around where the pigmentation started. Once, twice. Right until he was merciful enough to press against the apex of your nipples.
You squirmed.
âSo sensitive, are you?â he cooed. âTell Simon to play with your sensitive little nipples, hm? You look like you could cum just by this.â
âO-oh please!â
âPlease?â
You couldnât respond. Not when heâs rolling the most sensitive part of your nipples between the pads of his thumb and the side of his pointer finger. Touching your breasts with your own nimble hands felt nothing like what heâs doing right now. You instinctually grinded your leaking pussy down onto the bed, almost like an animal in heat.
âPoor thing couldnât even tell me what she wants. What would Simon think, hm? A girl with no self control like you,â he hummed. Mr. Miller quickly held onto your thighs so that youâd stop rocking onto the bed and getting off from pleasure heâs not offering. Your eyes met his, searching for help, but the sweet and respectful Mr. Miller wasnât there anymore. âAlright now, sweetheart. You have ta make sure that youâre thoroughly aroused before thinkinâ of even touchinâ this place.â
âYouâre new at this,â he hummed. His fingers slipped off the hold he had on your nipples before it slid down your stomach and settled precisely above your clothed clitoris. âItâs gonna hurt bad if youâre not properly lubricated. Sex is supposed to be fun, not painful so if some guy tells you that itâs supposed to hurt, donât listen to his dumb shit.â
Mr. Miller was incredibly informative if you put aside the fact that heâs touching you in all the right places that itâs making you go dumb. He spent the time explaining why an action must be provided and how to perform it, when you know for a fact that this is not what heâs used to doing. Wicked Fantasies was known to be straight with words, using minimal sentences to provide his co-stars with just the right amount of information. You could tell heâs holding back the urge to be meaner, to act the way he likes, just for you to be more comfortable.
âLetâs take a look, shall we? You think I did a good job, darlinâ?â
Itâs dark out. Thereâs only one source of light thatâs present in the room. A small bedside lamp in the shape of an elephant, Sarahâs favorite animal thatâs grown to be yours as well. This session with him felt intimate; youâd expect for him to bring out the bright light panels and reflectors just like in those videos you watched of him, but instead, he mostly depended on the moonlight rays.
You were acutely aware of how those dark eyes of his mirrored your own. The way he studied you was unlike any other, not with an invasive intent, but rather with heed. You watched as he hooked his fingers on each side of your panties. Slowly dragging it down, only to stop to wait for you to ease your thighs upwards.
âLook at you,â he chuckled. âIâm right about you beinâ sensitive. Donât think we need any lube when your pussy looks like this.â
By instinct, you brought your thighs together, shy that heâs observing you with such vulgar intensity. He hummed out a tone of disapproval and quickly placed his arms on both of your knees, prying the two apart as if heâs opening a stubborn can of bolognese. You bit your bottom lip, stifling the noise of embarrassment.
Anxiety bubbled up inside of you. You wondered if you looked okay down there - no other men had seen it besides him! - or if there was something strange that caused him to halt. There was a lewd string of sticky arousal pooling on the center of your panties. You silently watched as it stretched and broke as Mr. Miller pulled the thin fabric away.
âYouâre soaked, sweetie,â he teased.
âMr. Miller, thatâs- thatâs embarrassing..â
âYou like to touch yourself, donât you?â
Your eyes flickered towards his direction in fear. Has he discovered your incurable obsession for him and his erotic videos? That couldnât be, could it? Thereâs no scientific correlation between being extremely aroused with masturbation as far as youâre aware, but the confidence he exude made you doubt yourself. Mr. Miller moved in a painfully slow tempo, taking his time to caress your inner thighs and stomach before even considering touching you where it ached. His calloused fingers felt different against your skin. It left a fiery trail in its wake.
âNo, I donât,â you lied with a breathless squeak.
âItâs okay if you like to touch yourself, yâknow,â he whispered as if taunting you. âGirls who like to touch themselves understand themselves better.â
Mr. Miller finally touched you properly. His pointer finger probed against your clitoris, touching in the lightest feathery manner possible that you couldnât have felt it if you werenât concentrating. Your hips followed the brief source of pleasure, only to be disappointed when you notice that he wasnât there. He pulled his finger close to his mouth and made a big show out of it. The way your arousal glistened under the pale moon rays, Mr. Miller teased you with his expressions and mannerism. He dipped the stained finger in his lips to have a good taste while keeping eye contact.
âPlease touch me.â
âWhat was that, sweetheart?â he hummed.
âPlease touch me again. It feels go-â
You were cut off immediately when he lazily drew a perfect circle on top of your hooded clit.
âFuck, please, please, sir.â
Ah, he liked that. He liked the new name youâve granted him. Mr. Miller was kind enough to resume what he was doing. His finger descended down onto your throbbing hole to gather a good amount of slick before he brought it up to aid his ventures.
âThe best way to feel good is controlled pleasure. It feels better to be denied than to receive boring continual pleasure, so..â he paused his movement all together. âIâm gonna teach you a little game.â
âA little game..â you sounded like youâre about to cry from his sudden withdrawal.
âCount to ten, properly. Then Iâll reward you with more. If you fail, then we gotta start from the very beginning,â he explained. His warm breath fanning over your sensitive clit. âYou think you can do that, pretty girl?â
âYes.â
âIâll start now.â
âOne, two..â
You felt how he made his laps around your nub. It was much more intense than the pleasures youâve initiated before. Compared to rutting against a pillow, grinding against a bedpost, or laying under the tubâs running water, this felt like an entire new experience. You fought to keep still, but itâs gradually getting harder when his finger starts prodding against your tight little hole.
âThree, four. Please, Mr. Miller. Oh god,â you whimpered by accident. He didnât like that one bit by the look he gave you. There werenât rules and promises to this, no dynamic the two of you have agreed on, but you couldnât help but be terrified of his disapproval. âIâm sorry. Iâm sorry, sir.â
âFrom the start,â he ordered.
âOne, two, three..â
You could barely remember the numbers in your head despite encountering them almost every day of the week. Youâre a smart girl, knows your ways around things, but being touched by Mr. Miller makes you go all dumb.
âFour, five, six..â
Your thighs began to twitch and spasm. You catched the way he pulled back the hood to your clit to get a more direct touch. It was working wonders as the sensation now is a lot more electrifying. Arousal dribbled down your twitching hole and onto the crack of your rear, wetting the sheets beneath you with the sticky clear substance.
âSeven, eight, n- nine!â
You jutted your hips out when his fingers brushed over your clit once more, the sensitive bundle of nerves extra aware of his presence, and he managed to hold you back once more. Heâs forgiving. You knew heâd punish his co-stars if they couldnât stay still like you, but he let this one slide. He continued rubbing slow, tight circles only to alter into an eight shape.
âTen.â
The ultimatum. It has arrived, your key to heaven.
âSmart girl,â he cooed, never actually stopping. âThis little hole of yours looks neglected, hm?â
âYes, pleasepleaseplease.â
âTouch your clit slowly like I taught you,â he ordered. âYou can do that can you, sweetheart?â
You nodded, distraught and ruined. With his sweet permission, you pulled one arm out from your back and rested it right above your clit. Slow and steady. Just like how he ordered. Mr. Miller on the other hand was slicking up his pointer finger with his tongue. Fuck, that looks so god damn hot.
He had pressed his sole finger deep into your warmth with no hesitation whatsoever. The combination of his calloused finger against your walls and the golden freckles inside his narrowed irises had you reaching out for his forearm. Your nails came in contact with his skin as you dug upon it, crescent shapes formed in pinkish shades atop his skin. You had to sit up as the only way youâre getting through this is by leaning on his sturdy arm.
âOh, you like that, huh? Filthy girls like you love to get their holes filled?â
What you didnât expect was having him press a second finger in. His one finger was thicker than what youâre used to, but two fingers? That makes you an overachiever for sure. You looked up to meet his eyes frantically. You knew he wouldnât be kind enough to withdraw the action when his mind is already set on it, but it was worth the try. He cocked his head arrogantly as he pursued his plans. Mr. Millerâs middle finger was a tight fit. Barely able to slip past the ring of muscles. Though when he did manage to get himself in, a loud moan escaped your lips.Â
âMr. Miller. I canât- Iâve never- never taken two fingers!â
âI know you can do it, sweetheart,â his free hand went over to run over your sweaty hair, admiring every inch of you. âYou wanna please that boy, donât you? Little Simon?â
He was skillful with his fingers, perhaps from his job requirements. Although itâs still incredible how he managed to have you squirming, yelling how youâre about to cum in a matter of seconds. All he did was switch between pumping the two in you, creating the filthiest sounds, and reaching upwards to hit that certain spot of yours. You rubbed your clit with much concentration as you followed after his thrusts.
âMr- oh.. Mr. Miller! Iâm gonna cum, sir.â
âYouâre gonna do that for me?â he grinned, pushing his fingers into you as deep as they could go. He maintained a steady pace, emphasizing pressure on that spongy spot up top that youâve never managed to reach with your stubby fingers. âPretty girl gonna cum from my fingers?â
âYes, yes.. sir. Please.â
âCum for me, darlinââ he whispered. âShow me how good you can be.â
Oh god, you're in a lot of trouble.
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x you#joel miller smut#joel miller fic#tlou#tlou x reader#the last of us x reader#the last of us#tw age gap
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the old college try
pairing: frat dad!joel miller x college student!female reader
rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)
word count: 5.1k
summary:
Family Weekend, or DILF Day as you and your friends like to refer to it, is when the University of Texas encourages the parents and families of its student body to visit the school and participate in activities that the Division of Student Affairs has organized. The fraternities and sororities have their own schedule that includes not-so-sanctioned house parties on frat row following the game. Itâs your senior year and your last DILF Day so youâre hoping to go out with a bang. Literally. Enter Joel Miller, handsome single dad visiting his son at the Theta Lambda Upsilon fraternity house.
dear reader:
this is an extremely self-indulgent fic that i just had to write, so i hope you enjoy it! if you do, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging <3
content warnings:
explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), alternate universe - no outbreak/no sarah, age difference (42M and 23F), dub con - sex under the influence of alcohol, no use of y/n, frat party stereotypes, keg stands and beer pong, semi-public sex (frat bathroom), mild daddy kink (not during sex), p in v, oral sex (f receiving), dirty talk, cheesy dad jokes, the university of texas as a plot device. please let me know if any are missing!
You turn over in your bed with a deep groan, burying your face into your pillow. You reach your arm out from under the covers to grab your phone from the nightstand, smacking your hand around the wood surface until you find it and can bring it under the covers with you. Turning over, you tap the screen and squint at the series of unread text messages.
Ashley: Get up bitch!Â
Ashley: Itâs time to get ready!
Ashley: Weâre going to be late if you donât get up
Ashley: Donât make me break into your apartment
Ashley: You know I can
You sit up quickly, shoving the blankets off of you and rushing to the front door, flipping the lock and pulling it open. Your best friend is across the threshold, knelt down on the ground with two bobby pins held up and her eyes wide in surprise.
âAw man,â she laments, standing and brushing off her knees. âI wanted to test my skills.â
âIâm not paying to replace the lock,â you chastise, stepping back to let her in. âSorry, overslept.â
âFigured. Iâll get your coffee started,â she replies, heading for your kitchen while you head back to your bedroom to start your morning routine. âGuess which frat is hosting the tailgate today?â
âWhich one?â You shout from the bathroom as you run through your skincare routine.
âTheta Lambda Upsilon,â Ashley shouts back. The scent of brewing coffee paired with this excellent news has you perking up immediately.Â
Your friend steps into your room with two mugs in her hands, passing one to you as you exit the bathroom and sit at your cluttered vanity, pushing aside products to make room to set your mug down. Ashley sits on your bed, folding her legs beneath her.
âThe hottest frat hosting the tailgate and after party means weâll get to see the hottest dads this weekend,â she says, shimmying her shoulders excitedly. âItâs simple genetics.â
âYou dropped genetics. Remember? You couldnât handle an 8 am class,â you say as you apply mascara.Â
âI went to enough classes to know how a Punnett square works.â
You laugh, finishing your makeup between long sips of coffee. âItâs amazing you couldnât tough it out through an early semester but give you an afternoon game and youâre trying to break into my apartment at the crack of dawn.â
âItâs DILF Day, baby. Itâs like waking up on Christmas morning.â
Family Weekend, or DILF Day as you and your friends like to refer to it, is when the University of Texas encourages the parents and families of its student body to visit the school and participate in activities that the Division of Student Affairs has organized. The fraternities and sororities have their own schedule that includes not-so-sanctioned tailgates and house parties on frat row following the game.
As an out-of-state student, your parents have always skipped Family Weekend in exchange for buying your plane tickets back home for Thanksgiving and Christmas break, which leaves you with plenty of opportunity to ogle the hot dads that descend upon campus on this glorious weekend. Youâve never had the guts to actually pursue anything with anyone, but itâs your senior year and your last DILF Day so youâre hoping to go out with a bang.
Literally.
âWhat are you going to wear?â Ashley asks.Â
âShorts and that new tank top I got,â you reply, finishing your makeup with a pop of your lips after applying gloss. âAnd boots. Obviously.â
âObviously,â Ashley nods as you rifle through your closet for the outfit in question - denim cutoffs and orange Texas Longhorn tank top that hugs your curves and shows off the perfect amount of cleavage. Finishing the look with your worn brown cowgirl boots, you spin for your friend who gives you a thumbs up. âSexy. I reckonâ this year youâll catch yourself a DILF.â
You roll your eyes. âMaybe. Weâll see.â
Joelâs arm hangs out the truckâs open window, fingers tapping against the hot metal as he drives down the highway towards the Austin campus of the University of Texas. Itâs Family Weekend and his son, Sean, started his sophomore semester at UT a few weeks prior and now lives in the Theta Lambda Upsilon fraternity house on campus after proving to Joel that he would take his classes seriously by doing well his freshman year. Joelâs always been close with his son as a single dad and the fact that Sean asked him to Family Weekend feels like a testament to that bond.
The campus is already bustling with the game day crowd, trucks parked in grassy areas along the road with their tailgates down, people setting up tents and tables and coolers. Joel drives slowly down the street until heâs turning down a side road and parking down the hidden drive his son had given him instructions to find. He hops from the truck, sneakers hitting the hot pavement and the sun already beating down on his arms as he makes his way towards the TLU house a couple blocks away.Â
Thereâs a huge crowd of students and parents in shades of burnt orange and white on the front lawn of the two story fraternity house, red solo cups or cans of beer in hand. Joel looks around until he hears a familiar voice calling out, âDad!â
Sean emerges from the crowd dressed in a white polo shirt with an orange Longhorn logo on the chest tucked into khaki pants, his curly brown hair slicked back with gel. Joel smiles, hugging his son and patting him on the back in greeting.
âBeen ages since I saw you, kid. Have you gotten taller?â Joel asks.
Sean rolls his eyes. âYou saw me last weekend!â
A voice calls out Seanâs name and the younger man throws an arm around Joelâs shoulders, dragging him along into the packed fraternity house. The scene inside is not unlike all the ones heâs seen in movies and TV shows - flags stuck to the walls as decor, a mysteriously sticky floor, and kitchen countertops filled with booze. Sean stops and grabs a red plastic cup, handing it to Joel.Â
âPick your poison,â Sean instructs, grabbing his own cup. Joel raises an eyebrow at him.
âLast I checked, you werenât twenty-one,â he chastises, earning him another eye roll.Â
âLike you didnât know Uncle Tommy was buying me beer when I was a senior.â
âHe what?â Joel asks, though the question is lost in the noise as Sean leads him to an impressive back deck hosting a beer pong table and two kegs nestled in plastic trash cans and surrounded by ice.Â
Sean slips into the crowd surrounding the kegs, taking Joelâs cup from his hands, pumping the tap and filling each cup with ice cold beer, handing one to Joel.Â
âGo Longhorns,â Sean says, tapping his cup to Joelâs and chugging the contents. Joel watches his twenty-year-old son with wide eyes and a torn conscience.Â
âThis is what Iâm payinâ tuition for, huh?â He teases, taking a single sip of the cheap beer. A cheer erupts from behind him and he turns to look at whatâs causing so much excitement.
You and a friend are at one end of a plastic folding table, glaring daggers at two boys at the other end, a single solo cup set on the table in front of you. You have a white ping pong ball held delicately between two fingers, your other hand propped on your hip as you squint one eye shut to take your aim for the cup that sits in front of the boys. You let the ball fly and it sinks into the cup, another cheer going through the small crowd gathered around you as you jump up and down excitedly.
Sean approaches the boys, slapping one of them on the shoulder. One of them shouts, âRedemption shot!â
âOh, please! You canât aim for shit, Chad!â You shout back.Â
âCelebrity shot, then!â He suggests. The boy, Chad, reaches out to pull an older man to his side. âDad edition!â
Your eyes scan the crowd, landing on Joel. You wave him over, the older man glancing around briefly before pointing to himself to confirm. You nod, smile bright as he approaches.
âI need a daddy for this celebrity shot, you wanna do the honors?â You ask sweetly. Joel swallows nervously, face heating at the suggestive tone and look youâre giving him.Â
âCome on, dad!â Sean calls out. âShow âem what a Miller man can do!â
âYeah,â you chime in. âShow me what a Miller man can do.â
âAlright, fine,â Joel acquiesces, moving to stand beside you. You slip a ping pong ball into his hand, standing so close beside him that your bare arm brushes his as you both watch Chadâs dad take aim for the single cup.Â
The ball soars through the air, hitting the rim of the cup and bouncing off onto the table, rolling to the ground as the men groan. He feels you place a hand on his shoulder, your lips close to his ear as you whisper, âCome on, Mr. Miller. Youâre my only hope.â
It doesnât escape Joelâs notice that you keep your hand on his shoulder as he takes aim and throws the ball across the table, sinking it into the cup. Youâre throwing your arms around his shoulders in celebration as the people around you shout excitedly. On instinct, Joelâs arms wrap around your waist, holding you close for a brief moment before coming to his senses and taking a step back.
âThanks,â you say, looking up at him through your lashes. âIâm going to go inside for a drink. You want anything? Iâve got a stash of IPAs in a friendâs fridge upstairs if you want something better than Miller Lite. Consider it a thank you for winning me bragging rights over Chad.â
Joel should say no. He shouldnât be taking up drink offers from someone half his age, but youâre giving him another devastating smile that has his resolve folding faster than a lawn chair in a hurricane.
âSure.â
The hottest man youâve ever seen is currently following you upstairs to your friend Craigâs room for a beer. Heâs tall and tan with sweet brown eyes and dark hair that looks like it would be a dream to run your fingers through. His broad chest and toned biceps press deliciously at the confines of the white UT Longhorns shirt heâs wearing. When he stepped up beside you to throw your celebrity shot at the beer pong table downstairs, youâd noted that his left hand featured no wedding band or a tan line of one left behind.
You reach the second floor and head for the last door on the right, marked with a PRESIDENT plaque. You reach into the pocket for the key Craig had given you earlier and let yourself inside, heading for the mini fridge in the corner and grabbing two Yellow Rose IPA cans.Â
âSo,â you say, handing the man one of the drinks. âYou got a name, or should I keep calling you Mr. Miller?â
âItâs Joel,â he says, taking a long sip of the beer. You watch the muscles of his throat work, longing to press your lips against the tan skin.Â
You tell him your name, holding a hand out to him for a handshake. His grip is tight, sturdy, and for a brief moment you think about how his sure, thick fingers would feel deep inside of you. He looks around the room curiously as he pulls his hand back.
âCraig and I have been friends since freshman year,â you explain. âI helped him pass calculus, he lets me keep my beer out of the grubby hands of his frat brothers.â
âCalculus, huh?â He asks, taking another sip. âMust mean youâre pretty smart.â
âJust a basic engineering prerequisite,â you joke.Â
âEngineering? Thatâs impressive.â
You take a seat on Craigâs bed, crossing one leg over the other. Joelâs eyes track the movement and you smile, giddy at the attention. âWhat do you do, Mr. Miller?â
âThought you were gonna call me Joel?âÂ
âMm, I can think of a few things to call you.â
Joel nearly spits his mouthful of beer out, choking on the bitter drink. You rush towards him, patting him on the back as he coughs. After a moment of fighting for breath, the man seems to realize how close you are, his gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips, trailing down to your chest.Â
You lean in a little closer, pressing yourself to him and you think this might be it, Joel Miller might be the DILF of your dreams as he leans into you as well.Â
But the doorknob rattles and the door swings open, Joel jumping back in surprise as both of you turn to look at the doorway. Craig leans against the frame, an eyebrow raised and a knowing smirk on his lips. You roll your eyes.
âHey,â he says, looking between you and Joel. âAshleyâs lookinâ for you downstairs. Weâre headinâ to the stadium now.â
âI better find Sean, then,â Joel says. Craigâs eyes light up.
âYouâre Millerâs dad? Hey, man, nice to finally meet you. Iâm Craig, TLU president.â The men shake hands, patting each other on the back. âSeanâs a good kid, weâre happy to have him.â
âGood to hear,â Joel replies.Â
âWell, guess Iâll go find Ashley.â You place a hand on Joelâs shoulder. âIt was nice to meet you, Mr. Miller. Maybe Iâll see you later?â You let your hand trail down the manâs bicep as you leave and you watch his throat work around a nervous swallow.
âYeah, sure,â he says. âSee you later.â
The Longhorns pull off an impressive win, a 49-0 blowout against Oklahoma that has the entire campus celebrating with abandon. If Joel thought the TLU house was packed for the tailgate, that crowd was nothing compared to the after game party. More alcohol, more people, and more noise is packed into the house. Joel sticks close to Sean, meeting more of his frat brothers and their parents with shouted introductions.Â
When the stale air inside the house gets too overwhelming, Sean leads him to the deck. More kegs have appeared and his son bumps him with his shoulder, nodding towards where a few people are gathered around one, a man hoisted upside down by two people gripping his legs as he chugs directly from the keg tap. He spits the valve out as the crowd shouts a chorus of, âTwenty!â
âI bet you could do better,â Sean says. Joel raises an eyebrow at him.
âI know what youâre doinâ, kid, and it ainât gonna work,â Joel replies. Sean puts his hands up.
âIâm not doinâ anythinâ. But if youâre too scared, you can tell me.â
âIâm not scared.âÂ
âHey, my dadâs got next!â Sean shouts, dragging Joel through the crowd with an arm around his shoulders. Joel tries to argue but a familiar face in the crowd has the words dying on his tongue. You wiggle your fingers at him in a wave and suddenly he has the motivation to execute the most impressive keg stand of his life.
Joel grabs the cold handles of the keg, Sean and one of his fraternity brothers lifting him into the air so that heâs suspended upside down over the barrel of beer. People begin counting, shouting numbers as he attempts to focus on the beer flooding his mouth and drinking it down steadily. Itâs been a long time since heâs done one of these, probably before Sean was even born, but if thereâs one thing Joel has never been, it's a quitter.
After what feels like forever he spits the valve out with a gasp and he gets lowered back to ground as the crowd shouts, âThirty-four!â
Seanâs frat brothers jump around him excitedly, hands patting him on the back and cheering his name. He laughs as Sean starts yelling, âThatâs what Iâm fuckinâ talkinâ about!â
Movement from the corner of his eye catches his attention and he turns his head just in time to see you disappear into the house. He tells Sean heâll be back in a minute and follows after you, craning his neck to scan the mass of bodies crammed inside until he spots you on the stairs.Â
When he finally manages to reach the stairs, heâs surprised to find them roped off at the bottom. Looking around to make sure no one is paying attention to him, he ducks beneath the barrier, taking the steps two at a time. The second floor is dark and empty but light spills into a hall from beneath the last door marked PRESIDENT.
Joel knocks on the wood, his head a little light from the rush of alcohol in his system but it has him feeling good.Â
Confident.Â
Maybe a little too confident because when you open the door, he wraps an arm around your waist, pushing his way inside as his lips find yours, a little noise of surprise swallowed by him as his tongue explores yours.
He comes to his senses when your teeth nip at his bottom lip, jarring him back to a reality where he is a mature adult who thinks with his brain and not his dick. He grips you on the shoulders, breaking the kiss and holding you at arm's length.
âFuck, Iâm sorry,â he says. âI didnât even ask if it was okay to kiss you, just came barginâ in here like a bull in a goddamn china shop and you probably donât even wantââ
âJoel?â You interrupt. He blinks.
âYeah?â He asks.
âKiss me again.â
Joel kisses you again, but pulls away a second time to ask, âWait, how old are you?â
âTwenty-three,â you reply, giggling as he mutters a low thank god before pulling you back into his arms. Itâs another short lived kiss, the man leaning back once more as you huff in annoyance.
âWait, how much have you had to drink?â He asks this time.Â
âLess than you, Mr. Thirty-Four-Second Keg Stand,â you answer. He gives you a smirk that has your stomach doing somersaults.Â
âYou liked that, huh?âÂ
His hands slip into the back pockets of your shorts and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. He kisses you again, slower this time, like heâs savoring the feel of your lips against his. Your heart is racing as he pulls you even closer and runs his hands up your back, warm palms exploring your curves like heâs trying to map them to memory.
Youâre lost enough in each other that the sound of the door opening doesnât register until an upset voice is saying, âUgh, come on! No fucking in my room!â
âShit,â you yelp, tearing yourself away from Joel. Craig is standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. You grab Joelâs hand and tug him towards the door of the en-suite bathroom, pulling him inside and slamming the door behind you, flipping the lock.
âHey, wait a minuteââ
âItâs not your room, Craig!â You yell through the wood. Thereâs a muffled curse from the other side.
âCondoms are under the sink,â he shouts back. You grin victoriously at Joel, whoâs laughing so hard he has a hand pressed to his chest. You step up to him, grabbing that hand and bringing it around your waist.
âYou sure about this?â Joel asks seriously, stepping forward until heâs crowding you against the door. You tilt your head up to look at his handsome face, his dark eyes so intense as he searches your face that you feel giddy.
âI mean, the location isnât ideal, but at least Craig keeps his bathroom pretty clean,â you joke, noting the clear counter space and surprising lack of dirty clothing littering the floor.Â
âAnswer the question, sweetheart. You sure about doing this with me?â
You reach up, tangling your fingers into his soft curls, pulling him close until your lips graze his as you respond, âIâm so fucking sure.â
Whatever tether of control Joel had been holding onto seems to snap with your words, the man kissing you so roughly that all you can do is hold on, your fingers curling desperately against his scalp as his tongue dives into your mouth and tangles with yours. He tastes like beer and smells like a mixture of cedar and sweat, the combination intoxicating as he presses close and surrounds you with it.
Joel trails his lips across your jaw, nipping your earlobe before continuing down your neck. He sucks the thin skin over your pulse before soothing the sting with his tongue as you writhe against him, gasping at the sensation. You can feel his smile against your shoulder and as he presses a thigh between your legs, you get a brief feel of his hard cock behind the barrier of his basketball shorts.
âSo fuckinâ pretty,â he growls, hands trailing across your curves until heâs gripping one of your breasts, squeezing tightly.
âNot so bad yourself,â you moan. He chuckles darkly.
âThe mouth on you.â He reaches two fingers into the low neck of your tank top, dragging it down over your breasts. He yanks the cups of your bra down in a similar fashion, the fabric bunched beneath your chest to expose your tight nipples to him. He dips his head down and wraps his lips around a tight bud, pulling it into his mouth as you gasp.
âCould show you some other things my mouth is good at,â you tell him as he releases your breast with a wet pop, lifting his head to look at you.Â
âI have a better idea,â he says, dropping to his knees. He lifts one of your legs and wiggles your boot off, tossing it to the side before doing the same with the other.
âWhat are you doing?â You ask when his hands reach for the fly of your shorts. He pauses, looking up at you with concern.Â
âI was planninâ on eatinâ you out until you couldnât think straight,â he says. His brows pinch together. âDo you not want that?â
âI-Iâm not sure? I mean, no oneâs everâŚ,â your sentence trails off, your eyes going wide.
Joel runs a soothing hand down your thigh, smiling up at you. âThatâs a damn shame, baby. Let me show you how a real man takes care of a woman.â
You let him work your shorts and panties down your thighs, stepping out of them with a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself. He lifts one of your legs and settles it over his shoulder, opening you up to his hungry gaze. His eyes flick up to your face and he grins as he says, âPretty all over, arenât ya?â
Any smart reply you have died on your tongue as he starts kissing the sensitive skin of your thighs, starting at the knee thatâs close to his face and moving up, up, up until you can feel his warm breath on your pussy. His tongue flicks across your clit, featherlight, but itâs enough to have you gasping his name.Â
He starts a rhythm of messy swirls of his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves before dipping down to your entrance, the tip of his nose still brushing your clit and making you moan. You buck against his face and he immediately grasps your hips in his big hands, fingers curling into the flesh of your ass to hold you still as he lavishes your pussy with attention.
âOh my god,â you pant, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair. He groans at the same time his lips wrap around your clit and the sound of his satisfaction has your orgasm taking you by surprise, washing through your veins and making you feel like youâre on fire.Â
You feel breathless as he licks you slowly, thoroughly, his tongue making sure heâs gotten every last drop of your release. He leans back, slowly lowering your leg from his shoulder. His lips and chin are coated in your wetness, shiny in the light of the bathroom vanity, the sight making your cheeks feel hot and a nervous giggle spill free.
Joel grins, boyish and sweet. âGood?â He asks.Â
âGreat. Amazing,â you concur. âTen out of ten. Your Yelp review will be glowing.â
âShouldn't I be the one leavinâ the Yelp review? You were the meal after all.â
You blink at him. âOh my god, that was so bad,â you say, laughter near hysterical.
He stands, his palms cupping your face and pulling you into a filthy kiss that quickly shuts you up, his tongue slowly exploring yours and introducing the musky taste of yourself to your taste buds. You reach down, palming his hard cock through his shorts and the responding groan you receive from the older man has you clenching in anticipation.
Joel breaks the kiss, pulling you against his body and turning until youâre facing the vanity, your hips pressed to the edge of the laminate counter. You watch his reflection in the mirror as he runs a hand down your back, pressing you forward slightly so that youâre bent over the counter, ass slightly tilted up. His hand continues lower until itâs running reverently over one cheek. He catches your eye in the mirror.
âYou gonna let me fuck you just like this?â He asks. Your breath hitches as his fingers trace through your folds, one dipping into your entrance. He watches your face in the mirror, eyes dark and expression serious. âAnswer me.â
âFuck, yes, anything,â you say quickly. He thrusts his finger slowly, curling it against your front wall with every pull from your body. One finger becomes two, the slight stretch making you whine as he continues to work them in and out of you. âJoel, please.â
âPlease what, baby?â He asks.
âNeed you to fuck me,â you tell him.Â
Joel grins, removing his fingers and urging you to the side so he can open the cabinet under the sink. He crouches down, rummaging through the contents for a moment before standing with a victorious expression and a foil packet pinched between his fingers. He shoves his basketball shorts and boxers down his thighs, just low enough to free his impressive cock, thick and long with a slight curve up that has your mouth watering. He rolls the condom on and then grabs your hips, the tip of his length sliding through your folds and making your breath catch.
âYou ready, baby?â He asks, squeezing your hips. You meet his gaze in the reflection, your lips tilted in a smirk.
âBeen ready for a while, old man,â you tease. He raises his eyebrows and draws his hand back, landing a sharp smack to your ass that has you crying out.Â
Before the sting even fades, heâs pushing inside of you with one steady thrust until his hips are flush to your ass. Your fingers curl around the edge of the counter and you lift onto your tiptoes, trying to escape the sudden sensation of his cock stretching you so well. He chuckles darkly, tight hands on your hips keeping you from going too far.
âOld man,â he taunts, mimicking the higher pitch of your voice. He reaches forward, palm resting beneath your chin as his fingers and thumb press into your cheeks, tilting your head up so that your eyes meet his in the mirror as he says, âEyes up, sweetheart. You watch how this old man fucks you.â
Joel draws his hips back and slams forward, the head of his cock burying so deep inside of you that your eyes roll back from the exquisite stretch and pressure. He sets a rhythm that has a constant string of moans and pleas spilling from your parted lips, a slow pull out and a rough push in that makes you see stars. If you dare to let your chin drop or your eyes shut, the strong hand around your throat reminds you of his demand that you watch.
âThat feel good, baby?â He grunts. âMy cock in this tight fuckinâ pussy?â
âYes, yes, yes!â
âThatâs right, whoâs fuckinâ you so good? Say my name, sweetheart, wanna hear it from that pretty mouth.â
âJoel!â You cry out, the tight coil of pleasure in your belly finally unraveling, your cunt pulsing greedily around his cock as you cum. He curses, his rhythm going sloppy as he fucks you through your release and right into his own.
His hand leaves your throat and his head drops to your shoulder, soft kisses being left on your shoulder blades as you both catch your breath. After a long moment, he pulls back from you, removing the condom and tying it off to toss it in the garbage.
You straighten up from your bent position over the counter, fixing your bra and tank top back into place. Turning, you find Joel holding your shorts and panties.Â
âWas thatâŚare youâŚdid youââÂ
You lean into him as you grab your clothes, kissing him softly. Pulling back, you murmur, âThat was amazing.â
Joel sighs in relief, watching as you get dressed and tug your boots back on. âGood. ThatâsâŚgood.â
âWhy donât you head downstairs first? I need to freshen up,â you suggest. Joel nods, but doesnât make a move to leave. You raise your eyebrows at him and that seems to have him getting the hint.Â
âOh! Right, Iâll justâŚgo downstairs,â he says. You giggle, leaning into him for one more kiss before he disappears from the bathroom and you busy yourself with fixing your appearance to look a little less well fucked.
Downstairs, Joel wanders through the first floor in search of his son. He feels a flash of guilt for leaving him for so long, especially to fuck a woman half his age in a frat house bathroom, but the guilt is short lived when he finds his son with his tongue down the throat of a blonde girl in the living room.
âJesus Christ,â he mumbles, turning to head for the front door instead. Itâs getting late and now seems like a good time to head home.
Heâs a few steps out the front door when he hears his name called out and you appear from the doorway.Â
âYou heading out so soon?â You ask, bottom lip jutting out in a pout that he kind of wants to kiss from your lips. He runs a nervous hand through his hair.
âUh, yeah. Was gonna head home,â he says. Christ, he has no idea why heâs acting so weird, but you have him tied up in knots.Â
âYou knowâŚmy apartment isnât far. MaybeâŚmaybe you donât have to go home just yet?â You say, looking up at him through your lashes.
Those knots of uncertainty loosen and Joel holds a hand out to you.
âLead the way, baby.â
Joel Miller Masterlist
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller fic#joel miller x female reader#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x you#joel tlou#no use of y/n#joel x reader#joel the last of us#joel miller tlou#tlou fic#tlou fanfiction#tlou hbo#tw age gap#tw age difference
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