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pedrospatch · 9 months ago

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fall into temptation | three

Jackson! Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter Reader

series masterlist

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56). several mentions of religion and religious symbols, reader has a father and two sisters, all who come with names, reader gets put into a a very uncomfortable situation, insecurity, anxiety, Seth is an asshole, protective Joel, he threatens to break someone’s jaw which is a warning in and of itself. SMUT. loss of virginity, reader is inexperienced but not totally clueless, oral (both m and f receiving), risky unprotected p in v sex (please wrap it up), lots of praise and pet names (baby, babygirl, honey, you know, the works), Joel gets a teensy bit rough, creampie, hint of aftercare, ends with a cliffhanger, but also not really if you think about it?

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 10k

a/n: it was not my intention to post this on jesus day, but here we are. this took forever and a day considering the second part was posted back in september, but i am so so proud of myself for finally completing a wip i could cry. i did a bulk of the editing while i’ve been sick and in all honesty i probably should have asked someone to beta for me because i think i coughed out like 90% of my brain cells this week, but i think it turned out okay. ish.

Somehow, even over the volume of the live music, you could still hear their hushed, astonished whispers.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Is that Joel Miller with Pastor John’s daughter?”

“What’s she doing holding his hand?”

“He’s got to be at least twice her fucking age—”

Throat bobbing anxiously, you glanced up at Joel.

His shoulders were squared back, his head held high.

Solid. Steady.

Joel couldn’t seem to care less about the bewildered stares, the judgment that was being flung his way. Not once did he seem to waver. But you?

Oh, you were already starting to crumble underneath it all, on the verge of falling apart right before everyone’s prying eyes. Shame sat heavily inside of your chest, the weight of the feeling suffocating you, making it harder and harder to breathe as it prevented air from reaching your lungs.

It had nothing to do with Joel. Of course it didn’t. It had all to do with you and with who you were. Their beloved preacher’s sweet, innocent young daughter.

His youngest daughter.

Suddenly, the whispers were no longer whispers.

“Oh God, she’s not going home with him, is she?”

“That’s not right! Someone should say something!”

“Pastor John would never allow something like this.”

“Poor thing’s naive—she doesn’t know any better.”

Hot, stubborn tears of frustration glazed over your eyes and threatened to spill. It was as if you were a child who didn’t know any better, a gullible, clueless little girl with nothing in her brain who needed to be rescued—saved from the bad, bad man before he did bad, bad things to her.

Had it been anyone else, no one would have batted an eye. No one would have noticed, let alone cared. But it was you that Joel Miller was leaving the bar with in the middle of the night and it was you whose hand he had clasped in his own. That is what made it wrong. That is why it was a problem.

Everyone’s concerns had nothing to do with him at all, they had everything to do with you. You, you, you. You were the sole reason why it was a problem, the reason why he was being perceived as the Devil himself, horns out as he dragged the poor little unsuspecting angel down to the fires of Hell.

“Joel?” Overwhelmed, you instinctively reached for his arm with your free hand. Cold and trembling, your little fingers curled tightly around his bicep, digging into the firm, bulging muscle through the thick corduroy fabric of his sleeve. You whispered his name again. “Joel—”

“S’alright, babygirl,” he reassured you quietly over his shoulder. He gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “S’alright. Just keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. I’ve got you. You just keep on lookin’ right at me, okay?”

Nodding, you inhaled deeply and focused on him. Only him. The broadness of his back and his shoulders. Tufts of hair that curled over the collar of his shirt. Only him. He’s what mattered. He’s all that mattered.

“Almost there,” Joel murmured, squeezing your hand again as the door came into view. “Breathe, baby. We’re almost there. I’ve got you. You’re alright. Ain’t gonna let anythin’ bad happen to you. Promise I’ve got you.”

It wasn’t until his fingers wrapped around the old, brass handle that you finally exhaled the breath you had been holding out in utter relief, though it was very, very short lived. Just as Joel pulled the door open, you felt a hand wrap around your arm. Dry, slender fingers dug into the soft flesh above your elbow as an attempt, and a feeble one at that, was made to tear you out of Joel’s grasp.

The music stopped and the bar fell silent. Everything and everyone came to a sudden standstill, freezing mid dance, mid drink, mid bite, mid gossip.

Shocked, you glanced over your shoulder. “Seth?” you squeaked his name. “What—what are you doing?”

Seth didn’t acknowledge you. His focus was on Joel.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Miller?”

Joel’s anger couldn’t be seen, but it could be felt. So palpable you could have wrapped your fingers around it. It radiated off of him and loomed over the entire bar like an incoming storm cloud. Threatening. Dangerous.

“Where are you taking her?” Seth demanded, his other hand curling around your wrist as he tried, but failed, to snatch you from Joel’s side once more. “Let the girl go! You let her go right now, you hear?”

Caught in between the two men, you nervously turned to look at Joel. Nostrils flared, jaw clenched, seething eyes that did the talking for him. His message was loud and oh so abundantly clear.

If Seth didn't take his hands off you, he wasn’t going to have any hands.

Not after Joel Miller was through with him.

Blazing heat flooded your face. As if it couldn’t possibly get any worse, everyone had now gathered around you to watch the tense encounter, eyes wide, brows raised and jaws practically on the weathered, hardwood floor.

Tommy Miller stood among the crowd, subtly shaking his head, his lips pressed together in a tight, thin line of disapproval as he glowered at his older brother. Would he be looking at Joel like that had it been Esther in your place? If she was the one he was taking home? Would any of this be happening if it was her instead of you?

“Seth.” Uttering his name, you shifted your attention back to him. You sounded calm and collected, despite feeling anything but. Joel’s hand in yours was the only thing keeping you steady and grounded. His touch was the only reason you hadn’t yet spiraled into a state of panic. Clearing your throat lightly, you spoke again and tried your hardest not to waver. “Please let go of me.”

Still fixed on Joel, he spat, “I’ll be damned if I let him take you anywhere.”

“He’s not taking me anywhere, Seth.” Without thinking, the words came tumbling out of your mouth—loud and clear for everyone in that room to hear. “He isn’t forcing me to go with him. I’m making the choice to leave with him. Out of my own volition. Please let go of me.”

Finally, Seth looked at you. His old, worn features were twisted in disbelief. “What?”

You swallowed dryly. Part of you wanted you to shrink away, curl into yourself. Instead, you straightened your posture, forced yourself to stand a little bit taller. Willed yourself to have a backbone for once in your life.

“You heard me,” you said, lifting your chin in defiance. Several onlookers gasped in surprise at your rebellion. Where had this insolence come from? “I’m choosing to leave with Joel. Now, please let go of my arm.”

Behind you, Joel stood silent and still.

Watching. Observing. Waiting.

He wanted nothing more than to intervene. Rip you out of Seth’s hands and shatter each and every last bone in all ten of his fingers for putting them on you. Had Joel not realized that this was probably the first time in your whole, entire life you’d mustered up the courage to use your voice, he would have easily given into the urge. He wanted to protect you. He needed so badly to protect you. Yet, he knew you weren’t helpless or incapable of standing on your own two feet. He knew you deserved the chance to stand up and speak for yourself after a lifetime of being silenced, a lifetime of being forced to stay in your place, seen but never heard.

“Seth, let go of my arm,” you repeated. It was no longer a polite request. It was a demand.

He scoffed. “Do you honestly think I’m going to let you leave with somebody like him? You think I’m just going to stand back and let him take advantage of you?”

Oh, you hadn’t liked that insinuation, not one bit.

It caused something inside of you to finally give way.

Snap.

The blood in your veins boiled, ran hot enough to make you feel like you were about to burn from the inside out. “Joel isn’t taking advantage of me! It isn’t like that,” you seethed, furiously. The quiet, well mannered, obedient good girl everyone in Jackson knew was gone. And she could stay gone. In your periphery, you could see Leah elbowing her way through the sea of people to the front of the crowd with an incredulous look plastered on her face. She stood there beside Tommy, who appeared to be just as incredibly bewildered by your outburst. “Don’t treat me like I’m some child who doesn’t know any better! I’m an adult and I’m old enough to make my own choices, okay?”

For a moment, you had forgotten it was Seth standing there in front of you.

“I’m capable of making my own decisions! I don’t need you to dictate my life. I don’t need you to tell me what is and isn’t good for me—controlling what I should and shouldn’t believe in.” Your voice trembled as emotions you’d been suppressing for years bubbled their way up to the surface. Amidst the chaos, you could feel Joel squeeze your hand again, as if silently encouraging you not to lose your nerve. He was your anchor, the only person who could keep your world from capsizing. You knew he wouldn’t let you drown. Not even God, who you had always been forced to believe was your pillar of strength, had ever made you feel this protected. Safe. “I don’t need you to tell me how to live and much less when it’s the end of the world.”

It wasn’t Seth you were addressing.

It was your father.

Your father, who controlled every last thing, from what you would eat to the way that you dressed and how you wore your hair.

Your father, who refused to let you have a mind of your own, who simply could not bear the mere thought of you thinking for yourself.

Your father, whose love felt like shackles, heavy, rusted metal restraints that had been digging into the flesh of your wrists for far, far too long.

“You need to let me go now,” you said, swallowing back the lump in your throat. Once more, you caught Leah from the corner of your eye, your heart lurching in your chest when you noticed her desperately trying to wipe at her eyes with the back of her hand. She was the only person in the room who understood how you felt. Her rebelliousness only ever masked the pain of knowing her father’s love came with terms and conditions—and the fear of knowing what would happen if those terms and conditions weren’t met. For several weeks, you’d gotten a taste of what she went through everyday, how her fear of putting her foot down led her to run around in secret and live a double life. “Just let me go.”

Seth firmly shook his head. “No! I’m not letting you go anywhere with him. I don’t know what the hell he did to you, but he’s clearly got you all fucking brainwashed.”

That was fucking enough. Joel stepped in, lowering his voice as he said, “Y’know, I’ve just ‘bout lost count of how many fuckin’ times she’s asked you to let her go now and it’s really startin’ to piss me off.” Raising an eyebrow, he laid his offer out on the table. “Here’s the deal. You let go of her right now and I won’t shatter your fuckin’ jaw into pieces. That seem fair enough to you?”

“No.” Seth gripped your arm even harder, prompting you to let out a little yelp as his nails dug painfully into your skin. Though it’d been accidental and he hadn’t meant to hurt you, it didn’t matter. He’d just set off the ticking time bomb that was Joel Miller.

Furious, Joel snatched a fistful of his shirt with his free hand—the other still held yours. Gentle, despite being mere moments away from beating someone to within an inch of their life.

“Joel! Stop!” Tommy’s voice broke through the tension as he approached. His footsteps were slow—careful and cautious, as if he was afraid to make any kind of sudden movement. “Joel. Hey. C’mon now, let’s not do this, alright? Ain’t gotta handle things this way. We can talk it through. No need for anyone to wind up bleedin’ in the fuckin’ infirmary tonight, so just take a breath and let him go.”

Blatantly ignoring Tommy’s attempt to keep the peace, Joel tugged Seth forward, yanking him closer. “Listen to me and listen to me good ‘cause I ain’t gonna fuckin’ say it again. You’d best take your fuckin’ hands off her right now unless you wanna spend the rest of the night sweepin’ up your teeth off the floor of your own fuckin’ bar,” he threatened, his tone enough to send a chill up anyone’s spine, even your own.

“You wouldn’t dare, Miller.” Somehow, Seth managed to keep a straight face, but you could see it so clearly in his eyes and in the tremble of his lower lip—oh, he was terrified of Joel and rightly so. “Not in front of all these people. Not in front of your brother. That wouldn’t be a smart move considering you’re already on thin fucking ice for what you did to that boy’s face, now would it?”

Joel tugged him closer. “Test me,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Go on. Fuckin’ test me.”

His challenge was immediately met with a pathetic look of defeat. Seth dropped your arm and he was released.

“S’what I fuckin’ thought.” Without another word to the man, Joel whirled around and roughly pulled the door open, leading the way outside. As you both descended the building’s old, creaking wooden steps, you began to shiver and he suddenly remembered he’d left his jacket behind inside the bar. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “C’mere, my little dove,” he murmured as he tucked you against his side for warmth. “I’ve got you.”

The first thing he did was light the fireplace.

“Should start warmin’ you up, sweet girl,” he’d said to you over his shoulder. He tossed a log into the blaze as you sat perched on his couch rubbing your bare arms with your hands. “M’gonna go upstairs and find you a blanket, alright? You stay put.”

“Okay,” you’d mumbled, knowing there was no point in telling him not to fuss over you.

Even with the soft, fleece throw blanket he had draped around your shoulders and the warmth of the flames in front of you, you continued trembling. Subtle, but he’d noticed it, felt it when he had sat down beside you and pulled you close against his side. “Oh baby, you’re still shakin’?” That was when he realized you weren’t cold. Frowning, Joel rose to his feet and disappeared down the hallway. He came back to the living room a minute later with a glass of water in his hand. With a small, labored grunt, he dropped to one knee in front of you and held it out. “Here.”

“No, thank you.” You shook your head. “I’m not thirsty.”

“Maybe not, but I’m kinda worried you could be in a bit of shock right now,” he stated, the creases in between his brows deepening as he observed you for any other physical signs of distress. Carefully, Joel lifted the glass to your lips, gently coaxing you to take a drink. “C’mon, darlin’. Think you can be a real good girl for me and at least take a couple sips? Hm?”

Sighing softly, you nodded and did as he asked of you, taking a small sip of water. It soothed your dry mouth and throat and you took another one. Maybe you were thirsty after all.

“Little more, now. Little more. That’s it. That’s my good girl.” Once he was satisfied with how much you’d had to drink, Joel set the half empty glass down on the oak coffee table behind him. He turned back to you, placing his large hands on either side of your thighs below the hem of your dress. He started tracing soft, soothing circles into your skin with his thumbs. “M’real proud of you for standin’ up for yourself back there, sweetheart. Took a whole lot of fuckin’ courage to do that, y’know.”

You glanced down at your hands in your lap. “Mhm.”

“Baby. Hey. Look at me.” One of his hands abandoned your leg and he reached up, delicately taking your chin between his thumb and index finger. He tilted your face upwards, his worried gaze meeting your own. “Talk to me. M’right here.”

“That—that was a lot,” you admitted meekly, shoulders sagging as the adrenaline started wearing off and your body slowly came down from the peak hormone rush. “It was a lot.”

Sighing, Joel’s hand fell away from your face. “Yeah, I know it was a lot, babygirl. I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No.” You were quick to cut him off. “Don’t be sorry.”

His chest heaved with another sigh, this one deeper, heavier, bearing the weight of his guilt. “Well I am,” he said. He planted his hands on either side of you on the couch and lightly shook his head. “Didn’t even fuckin’ think twice when I pulled you outta that fuckin’ supply closet and took your hand in front of all those people. I was so fuckin’ hellbent on showin’ everybody you were mine that I didn’t even stop and think ‘bout what all it would mean for you. It was selfish of me. Real fuckin’ selfish. And I’m sorry, little dove.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked, quietly.

Joel chuckled in spite of himself. “M’pretty sure I’m the one who should be askin’ you that question, darlin’,” he remarked. “Tell me. Do you regret it? Do you regret me pullin’ you outta that closet?” He momentarily paused. There was a stutter in his heartbeat when you dropped your gaze away from his, silence your only reply. “Do you regret me takin’ your hand in front of everyone?”

Of course not.

You wanted to be his and you wanted everyone to know it. There was no regret, none.

Still.

The consequences that you would undoubtedly have to face in the morning were overwhelming. Daunting.

Surely, by then, your father would know about you and Joel. When he came downstairs right after sunrise and he discovered you weren’t in the kitchen helping Lydia prepare breakfast, he would question where you were and make some kind of remark about how you should not be sleeping in this late. He would tell her just how irresponsible it was for you to ignore your duties and obligations to him and the family. Sloth was one of the seven deadly sins, after all. He would make her trek upstairs and wake you, and when she did, your sister would find your bed empty.

Meanwhile, there would be a knock at the front door.

No stranger to having members of the congregation show up on his doorstep when they were in need, be it of prayer or comfort, your father would answer it only to find someone, not in need of solace, but who felt that it was their responsibility and moral obligation to inform him that they had seen his youngest daughter leaving The Tipsy Bison with Joel Miller in the middle of the night, hand in hand.

He wouldn’t believe them.

“Now, that is simply not true,” he would say, offended that anybody would have the nerve to show up at his door and accuse you of something so vile. “That’s not possible. I know my daughter and she would never do such a thing. It must have been someone else that you saw with him. Someone who looked like her, perhaps.”

Then, Lydia would descend the staircase and tell him you weren’t in your bedroom. “She must have gone up to the main street as soon as she woke up,” she would suggest with a shrug, not yet privy to the events that had taken place the night before at the party you and Leah had snuck off to. She never had to worry about you, the good one. “I did notice we were running pretty low on eggs. Sugar, too. She probably wanted to be the first in line at the pantry to—Papa? What’s the matter?”

The color would drain from your father’s face when the realization slowly sank in. No, you weren’t out on the main street picking up eggs for breakfast and sugar for his tea. You were lying up in Joel Miller’s bed—defiled, impure, and with the curse of Eve on your flesh. Even after dedicating his entire life to making sure you did not stray from the path of righteousness, he had failed. You had fallen into temptation.

There was a chance he would have mercy on you. All you had to do was beg and plead for his forgiveness—and more importantly, for the forgiveness of God. “Vow to atone for your sins,” your father would say, his gaze fixed on the Holy Bible in his lap. He probably wouldn’t be able to look at you, not after what you had done. “Repent. And swear to me, child, that you will never so much as glance in that man’s direction ever again.”

No. That’s not what you wanted.

You wanted Joel and the freedom to be with him.

But that freedom came with a high, high price.

You were willing to pay it, but you’d be lying if you said you were prepared to navigate the consequences. Then again, was there really any way for someone to prepare themselves to be shunned by their own father?

“I can take you home,” Joel offered quietly, the sound of his voice taking you out of the future and bringing you back into the present.

“What?”

“I can take you home,” he repeated himself. “I can take you home right now if that’s what you want, sweet girl. Won’t give you any kinda grief ‘bout it.”

Confused, all you could do was stare at him.

“Listen to me, baby. You mean a lot to me. More than I can even begin to explain,” Joel reassured you before any kind of doubt could find its way into your mind. “I want you to stay with me. There’s nothin’ on what’s left of this fuckin’ earth I want more than for you to stay here with me. But what you want matters to me a hell of a lot more than what I want.” He reached up, lightly stroking your cheek with his thumb. “If you decide you wanna go home and go back to your family—back to your old man—then that’s where I’ll take you. Okay?”

Your father would give you an ultimatum. But Joel? He was giving you a choice. And he’d respect that choice.

“I wanna free you from your cage, my little dove. But I think we both know you’ve gotta make the choice to fly outta there on your own.” He lightly swept his thumb over your quivering bottom lip, his eyes meeting yours as he whispered, “Door’s wide open for you. What you do next is all up to you.”

“I’m afraid, Joel,” you confessed. A tear slipped from the corner of your eye and rolled its way down the side of your face. He was quick to wipe it away, along with the others that followed. “I do want out of my cage. I really, really do. But I’m terrified. All I have ever known is my family and my faith. I have never been apart from my father and my sisters.”

His expression softened. “I know you’re scared. Can’t promise you things will be easy, but there is one thing I can promise you.”

“What’s that?” you questioned, then waited with baited breath.

He gingerly cupped your cheek in his large palm. “I’ve got you,” he swore to you, just like he had done so back at the bar. “If you decide to stay, I promise I’ll take real, real good care of you, alright? For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. You won’t ever have to worry ‘bout a thing with me by your side. Swear it on my life.”

Warmth blossomed in your heartspace and finally, you stopped trembling. Lifting a hand, you curled your fingers around his wrist as your gaze fell to his mouth. “Joel?”

“What is it, darlin’ girl?”

“Kiss me. Please.”

With a gentle nod, Joel’s other hand found your hip, the warmth of it seeping through the cotton fabric of your dress. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against yours. It was a chaste thing, soft and innocent until you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer to you. “Babygirl,” he mumbled against your lips. He deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue through your parted lips and into your mouth. He tasted like bold bourbon and citrus beer. There was a faint hint of tobacco too—you recalled him admitting to you one night in the church house that while he wasn’t all that much of a smoker, at least not like he used to be when living in the zones, he would occasionally partake in the habit if he happened to come across a pack of cigarettes while out on patrol, pairing the nicotine with a drink. He tasted delicious. He tasted delicious because he tasted like yours.

You sank back into the worn, supple brown leather of his couch, tugging him forward so he sank in with you. Over you. Releasing your near death grip on his collar, you managed to wedge your hands in between your bodies and began to claw furiously at the buttons of his shirt, your fingers shaking out of pure desperation to feel him. It wasn’t until you were halfway down that he finally noticed what you were doing and leaned back, catching both of your wrists.

“Baby, wait,” he panted, shaking his head. “Don’t think now’s a good time for that—”

“Joel, please,” you pleaded, the intense ache between your thighs almost too much for you to bear. “Please. I want it. I want you.”

“S’been a rough night for you.” Joel’s voice was hoarse—strained, like he was aching just as much, if not more. “You’re real emotional right now. Vulnerable. Last thing I want is to take advantage of you at a time like this.”

You frowned. Had Seth’s words gotten into his head?

“You’re not taking advantage of me.”

“Darlin’ I just don’t think we should—”

“Joel, please,” you begged him again. “I was so good for you, was I not? Wasn’t I patient, just like you asked me to be?”

His lips thinned into a tight line. He wouldn’t be able to resist much longer. You, his beautiful little temptress of Eden.

“I waited for so long,” you reminded him. “I’ve been so, so good for you. Please, just make me yours already. I don’t want to think about anything else right now. I just want to be with you. Please, Joel. I need you so badly it hurts.”

Christ.

No man could stand it. No man could possibly have the strength to deny you.

With a look of utter defeat, he folded. Before he could say another word or make another move, your greedy mouth was on his, and you kissed him with fervor, with urgency, as you finished the task of unbuttoning his shirt. Pushing it off of his shoulders, the corduroy fabric fell into a crumpled heap behind him, nearly knocking the glass of water off the coffee table. You broke away from him and shamelessly marveled at his mouth watering form—you admired the way miles of smooth, tanned skin stretched over his wide shoulders, broad chest and soft, soft belly. Arousal pooled between your legs and you reached out and raked your fingers down his chest, and over his stomach, going lower and lower, following the trail of coarse, dark hair that led you to his brown leather belt. You clumsily started fumbling with the brass buckle until he caught your hands once more.

“Slow down, my little dove,” he murmured. “No need to rush this. We’ve got all night.” He stood up and held his hand out to you. Time blurred a bit—maybe it was your nervousness mingled with the eager anticipation of what was to come, but there seemed to be a small gap in your memory, a blank space that spanned from the moment you rose off the couch until the moment you found yourself standing in his bedroom where you were about to answer to the call of the flesh.

Dropping your hand, Joel switched on the lamp on his bedside table and kicked off his boots before taking you into his arms. “C’mere, honey.” He nuzzled your cheek with the tip of his nose as he spoke, the scruff of his beard tickling your cheek. “Couple’a rules, sweet girl. I do somethin’ that you don’t like, you tell me. You want me to stop, you tell me to sto—”

Without waiting for him to finish his sentence, you slowly lowered yourself down onto the floor and knelt at his feet with purpose, as if kneeling before an altar, a sacred, holy space. Though you felt anxious, you were eager to worship. “I haven’t forgotten about what I said earlier tonight,” you cooed, noticing the mild look of surprise on his face. “I said I’d make it up to you and I intend on keeping my word.”

All the blood in his body rushed south to his cock and it strained painfully against the crotch of his jeans. “Baby, I—” Again, he was cut off, only this time by the sound of his own groan when your hand brushed up the front of his thigh and over his growing bulge. He glanced down, his heart thrumming painfully hard against his sternum as he watched you reach for his belt buckle.

With all your might, you willed your hands so as not to tremble. It was self-explanatory, what you were about to do, but your total lack of experience sowed seeds of doubt into your mind—you wanted to make him feel good, just like he had made you feel good outside of the church house during services. Just how you knew he would make you feel tonight.

Hand still over his buckle, you pressed the tenderest of kisses to his bulge through his jeans. Then, turning your head, you rested your cheek on one of his thick, blue denim clad thighs and peered up at him through your eyelashes with a small, nervous smile as you confessed what he already knew. “I’ve never done this before.”

Oh, how sweet and endearing you were. Joel reached down and smoothed your hair back and away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “S’alright, honey,” he crooned, grazing the silkiness of your cheek with his index finger. “I’ll walk you through it. Teach you how to be a real good girl and suck my cock just the way I like it. That what you want, my little dove?”

His filth made your cunt clench hard around nothing.

Slowly lifting your head off of his thigh, you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and managed a clear, consenting nod as your hands fumbled with his buckle, the clinking sound of metal ringing loudly in your ears. You undid the button on his jeans and pulled down his zipper, your throat drying when you saw the outline of him, his size intimidating even behind the cotton fabric of his faded, black boxer briefs.

With a harsh swallow, you glanced up at him, silently asking him for his permission to continue.

Such a polite little thing, Joel thought to himself. “Go on, sweetheart,” he encouraged.

You tugged his jeans down to the middle of his thighs and hooked your index fingers underneath the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling them down and freeing his cock. There was a deep, swooping sensation in your belly as you watched it slap up against the lower part of his abdomen. After many nights of sitting in his lap, feeling him through his clothes, grinding your cunt down onto him, you thought you’d at the very least had an idea of what you would be in for, but oh, how wrong you had been. He was so much bigger than you could have imagined, and your stomach swooped again when you realized he was not going to fit. Anywhere.

Licking away the dryness of your lips, you take him in one of your hands, feeling the heaviness of his length in your palm. He was so long and so, so thick.

“Oh fuck,” Joel hissed the curse through gritted teeth, his hips jerking forward involuntarily as your touch sent a charged jolt of electricity shooting up the length of his spine. He looked down at you, his pupils blown wide with arousal. Christ. You hadn’t even done anything to him yet, but seeing you sitting so prettily at his feet was almost enough to make him come on the spot.

Delicately wrapping your hand around him, you found yourself almost in awe at the way your fingertips barely, just barely, touched. The sheer size of his cock dwarfed your hand, and made it seem so much smaller than it really was.

“You’re so big,” you murmured, echoing your thoughts. You licked at your lips again, suddenly feeling ravenous, an appetite that had seemingly come out of nowhere making you salivate. The tip of him was flushed red, slit already glistening—how badly you wanted, needed a taste. Never, ever, did you think you would be down on your knees for anything but prayer, but there you were, starved and desperate to bite into the forbidden fruit.

“What’re you waitin’ for, darlin’ girl?” he croaked.

“Permission,” you replied, sweetly.

“Go right ahead, baby. S’all yours—I’m all yours.”

Yours.

Yours, yours, yours.

Finding your first push of courage, you leaned forward and so carefully swept your tongue along the tip of his length, collecting the slight saltiness leaking from the slit and getting your first delectable taste. With your hand still wrapped firmly around his base, you looked up, your eyes locked on Joel’s face as you flicked your tongue up against the rigid underside of his cock.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel groaned, all of the muscles in his stomach already pulling taut when he felt you dragging your tongue in a slow, purposeful lick along the length of him. “Babygirl.”

“Is that good?” you asked him, sounding hopeful. “Am I doing good?”

“Doin’ so, so fuckin’ good for me, sweetheart. Look so fuckin’ pretty down on your knees for me.”

Pleased, you wrapped your mouth around the head of his length, pressing forward and taking him in as far as you possibly could—which, in all fairness, wasn’t very far. At least not as far as you would have liked. Another groan tore itself from the depths of his chest as your plush, plump lips sealed around him, your tongue warm and wet on the underside of his cock. Moving both of your hands to rest on the sides of his thighs, you began to move your head back and forth, following what felt most natural to you. The nerves you initially felt slowly but surely dissipated, vanishing one by one with every curse, every tremble, every sharp breath.

Joel resisted the urge to buck his hips forward, fought the desire to feel himself at the back of your throat. He needed to be gentle, so careful with such an innocent, pliant thing who had much, much to learn. “Sweet little fuckin’ mouth feels so good around my cock, baby, just like I fuckin’ knew it would. Y’think it can take more of me, little dove? Hm?”

You hummed, the vibration intensifying his pleasure.

“Yeah? Y’trust me?”

Your reply came in the form of a muffled, “Mhm.”

Joel reached down and cradled the back of your head in the palm of his hand. He carefully guided you further onto his throbbing length, slowly feeding you one inch at a time. Your fingers dug into the denim of his jeans. He was much more than a mouthful for you, and you could only take about half of him before he hit the back of your throat, prompting you to gag around him. Drool dribbled out from the corners of your mouth and down the sides your chin, dripping onto your lap.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart. Yeah, that’s it. Little more now, honey,” Joel encouraged. He bucked his hips forward, his head slipping further down your throat. Just when you felt like you were about to choke, he pulled out and you tried your hardest not to cough and sputter as you took in a much needed, precious breath of air. He gave you a few seconds or so to finish catching your breath as he shoved his jeans and boxer briefs further down his legs. He stepped out of the articles of clothing and kicked them somewhere off to the aside, standing before you completely bare. “Open up.”

Your absolute devotion to him bred sweet submission, so as worried as you were that you wouldn’t be able to handle it, you nodded obediently and very willingly did as you were told.

He guided himself right back into your waiting mouth, pressing deeply. You tried to relax your jaw, reminding yourself to breathe in and out through your nose. Tears streamed down the sides of your face as you did your best to forestall another gag. “Little bit more,” he said, thrusting his hips in a slow, steady controlled rhythm. He advanced even further into your mouth—trusting he wouldn’t suffocate you, nor push you too far past your limits, you opened up wider. He moaned, “Yeah, baby. That’s my good girl. That’s my good fuckin’ girl.”

With a bit of newfound confidence, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him. You swiped your tongue along the thick, prominent vein on the underside of his cock, earning yourself more of his sweet, sweet praise.

“Fuck, yeah, suck me off, sweetheart. This pretty little mouth was fuckin’ made for sin,” he breathed, guiding your head back and forth with a firm, but gentle hand.

You moaned, the noise muffled around his length. Slick soaked through your panties and coated the insides of your thighs. With another moan, you tightly squeezed your legs together, inwardly reminding yourself that patience was a virtue.

Noticing the way you had shifted, Joel moved his hand from the back of your head, lightly curling his fingers around your jaw. He pulled you off of his cock, a loud, lewd popping sound bouncing off the sage green walls of his bedroom. “C’mere, baby.” He grabbed your arms, effortlessly hoisting you up to your feet.

“What’s wrong?” you questioned him worriedly. “Did I do something wrong?”

Chuckling softly, he brushed a finger along the strap of your dress. You could do no wrong, his perfect, perfect girl. “Of course not, sweet girl. You did so fuckin’ good for me,” Joel reassured you, lightly tracing along your collarbone with his finger and making your flesh erupt in goosebumps. He leaned forward and feathered a kiss onto your lips, murmuring against them, “Are you wet, little dove?”

Before you could even process the query and generate some kind of coherent response, he dove his opposite hand between your thighs, cupping your warm heat in his palm. At this, your weak knees buckled, prompting you to reach out and grab onto his arms to hold steady and keep yourself from falling into a helpless heap on the floor.

“Oh, honey. You’re soaked. That what sucking my cock does to you?” he cooed. He peppered another kiss, this one onto the corner of your mouth. His voice lowered another octave. “Poor little thing. She needs me, don’t she? Needs me to take care of her?”

You whimpered. “Yes.”

“Manners, babygirl,” he reminded you, skimming your cheek with his nose. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, please.”

Humming in approval, Joel withdrew his hand from in between your legs and guided you backwards towards his bed. “Sit,” he commanded gently, bidding you to let go of him. “Arms up.”

Reaching for the hem of your dress, he took great care in pulling it over your head, then discarded the vibrant yellow material over his shoulder, leaving you in nothing but your cowboy boots and thin, cotton white panties. Without a word, he knelt before you and pulled off one boot, and then the other, setting them both aside. He hooked two fingers underneath the elastic waistband of your underwear, coaxing you to lift your bottom off of the bed, just long enough for him to pull them down and slide them down your legs. He was so tender in the manner in which he undressed you.

“Fuckin’ beautiful, beautiful girl,” Joel praised. His dark gaze dragged down the length of your body as you sat before him wearing nothing but the delicate, gold chain around your neck. The holy cross nestled between your supple breasts gleamed in the light of the lamp on the nightstand. He would leave it on until your decision was made, set in stone. “My pretty little dove.”

“Joel.” You whimpered his name, hands curling around fistfuls of his dark blue sheets. You were drenched now, in dire need of some relief. If he didn’t touch you where you needed him most, you would surely lose your mind.

Desperate, you leaned back slightly onto his bed and parted your knees, your folds glistening as you showed him just how badly you needed him.

Joel groaned, almost visibly salivating at the sight. The blazing heat in his eyes sent ripples of desire coursing through your body, straight to your throbbing core.

You opened wider. “Please.”

“Christ, babygirl. Already soakin’ the sheets.” Sliding a finger up along the seam of your pussy, he grazed your clit, the touch light, but somehow still enough to make your hips arch off the mattress as white-hot pinpricks of pleasure danced their way up your spine. He lowered his head and leaned in, your sweet scent drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Just when you were about to start pleading him for more, he dipped his face into the apex of your thighs, his mouth finally, finally, meeting your wet heat.

“Oh!” you gasped, your head falling back. “Fuck!”

Against you, his lips curled upwards into a wicked grin. He’d never heard you curse before, not until now.

Joel took his time devouring you, savoring the essence of your cunt with each broad stroke of his tongue. Sealing his lips around your clit, he flicked the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves over and over again, eliciting from you some of the sweetest noises that he had ever heard in his entire life. In preparation for what you both knew was to come, he pushed one finger inside of you, the invasion causing you to fist his sheets even harder. He then slipped in a second finger, groaning in sheer, carnal bliss at how your walls squeezed them, at the mere thought of them squeezing his cock in the same manner. How was it that you felt so much tighter this time around?

“Oh God.”

You shouldn’t be saying His name. Not like this.

Not when something this sinful was being done to you.

Hungrily, Joel lapped at you, curling both of his fingers in an upwards motion to hit the perfect spot. He knew you were close, felt it in the way that you squirmed and writhed. Draping his arm across your hips, he pinned them down onto the bed, holding you still as he chased your high as if it were his own.

“Joel,” you chanted his name over and over again in a fevered prayer. Releasing the sheets, your hands found his hair, tangling themselves in his curls. Your head fell back, and you cursed at the ceiling of his bedroom. “Fuck, fuck, fuck Joel—”

Pushing onto his mouth, you came, moaning his name so loudly you were certain the whole neighborhood was getting an earful.

Joel pulled back, his beard and mustache slicked with your spend. “S’right, honey,” he crooned, his digits still buried to the knuckle as he helped you to ride out your wave of ecstasy. Eventually, when he pulled them out, you tried closing your shaking legs. He tsked and shook his head, wrenching them open further. “No, no, baby. Keep those pretty thighs open for me. Wanna see her.” He admired his work, his cock twitching at the sight of your pussy, swollen and shining, and ready to take him.

Like earlier, there was another brief skip in time.

Mind still in a haze, you hadn’t even realized that he’d risen to his feet and guided you further up onto his bed, not until you were lying on your back with your head on his pillow and he was hovering over you, his hard length brushing against one of your messy, inner thighs when he settled himself between your legs.

Your heart began to pound in a mingle of both fear and excitement.

Joel’s eyes met yours. His pupils were blown so wide, there was not one, single trace of brown anywhere to be seen. “Y’absolutely sure about this, little dove?”

Your response came without hesitation. “Yes. I’m sure.”

He pressed a kiss to the underside of your jaw. Your submission was a gift, and he would cherish every last second of your surrender to him, savor it for as long as he possibly could. His lips, soft and warm, skimmed along the column of your throat, leaving a trail of fresh goosebumps in their wake.

If, by some chance, you decided that you wanted to go back to your father and to your faith, Joel didn’t know how he would find it in himself to let you go, not after this. Of course, he would have to let go, though.

The last thing he wanted was to help free you from one cage just to stick you right back into another. While he was no stranger to loss, he had to admit to himself that to lose you would be a knife to whatever was left of his heart.

Shoving the thought out of his mind, he reached down and gripped the base of his cock, pumping it in his fist before running the leaking head along your puffy lips, coating himself in your wetness with the hope it would ease some of the pain you were bound to feel. “Ready, babygirl?” he asked you, lightly teasing your entrance. “Might hurt a bit. M’gonna go slow. Just need you to relax for me, alright?”

“Okay.”

“I’ve got you,” he promised.

You nodded, saying softly, “I know.”

Though he knew he had all of your trust, Joel could still sense your anxiousness. He reached out for your hand, lacing your fingers together with his own as he gingerly pressed forward and eased himself into you, taking the very innocence you had been taught your entire life to preserve, one slow, careful inch at a time.

“Oh—Joel!” You cried loudly at the initial stretch, your pretty face scrunching in discomfort. Tightly slamming your eyes shut, sparks flew behind your eyelids when he finally bottomed out. The burning sting in between your thighs was too overwhelming, almost impossible to cope with. He felt so enormous within you, you could have sworn he was in your belly. Another broken cry fell from your lips and he swallowed it with a comforting kiss.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed against your lips, a thin sheen of sweat coating his brow, neck, and chest. He wasn’t sure where he found the strength, but he suppressed his urge to thrust. Instead, he dropped his face into the hollow of your neck and waited, giving you the chance to adjust to him. He mumbled against your skin. “Doin’ so good for me, sweet girl. Y’know that? You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me.”

Even in discomfort, you preened at his praise.

He squeezed your hand, and after a minute, he gave an experimental thrust of his hips—and then another and another before he ceased his movement once again. He was so big and you were so deliciously full of him.

Eventually, the pain subsided, and you found yourself asking, no, begging for more. “Move.” Your other hand found itself cupping the side of his face, coaxing him to lift his head and allowing your gazes to meet. Your soft, plush thighs parted further to help accommodate the breadth of his hips. “Please, Joel. I need you to move—I need you to fuck me.”

Surely, you would be the death of him.

He drew his hips back with cautious, tender care, then advanced in the same manner to fill your precious cunt all over again. He did it over and over, your pleasured moans encouraging him to begin picking up the pace. He drove his cock in and out of your weeping pussy, the slapping of flesh against flesh, the lewd, wet squelch of you around him inspiring him to fuck you harder, faster. And the noises you were making?

There was something oh so beautiful about your cries, sweet raptures of submission as you laid there beneath him, all too graciously taking everything he had to give you like the good, good, good girl you were for him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” Joel rasped. “Look at you—look at the way you take my fuckin’ cock, honey.”

And you did.

Glancing down, your gaze fell between your bodies and you watched in awe, openly marveled at the way Joel slid in and out of your cunt, how he knocked hard so deeply inside of you, driving himself as far as he could possibly go.

“Fuck Joel, I’m gonna—” You tried warning him as the pressure in your belly neared its peak, but you tumbled over the edge before you even had the chance to finish your sentence. Arching up off off the bed, you pressed your chest against his, your fingers squeezing his own so hard you feared you might break them.

“That’s it babygirl, let go,” he grunted, speeding up his thrusts. “Squeeze my fuckin’ cock—just like that. Good girl. My perfect, perfect girl.”

You didn’t quite get the chance to let the praise sink in.

Joel pulled himself out of you, and with ease, he flipped you over onto your belly. His hands gripped your hips and pulled them up off the mattress, his fingers moving to firmly knead the fleshiest part of your ass. He leaned over you, the head of his cock nudging at your hole. “Y’think you can handle a little bit more, sweetheart?” he whispered the question into a tumble of messy hair, the delicate scent of the lavender shampoo you used to wash it filling his senses. “Answer me, little dove.”

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly with a nod. “I can.”

With a satisfied hum, Joel sank into you, this second stretch not quite as overwhelming at the first, but still intense. “Relax,” he murmured, hunching further over your quivering back. He pressed a kiss onto the top of your head and then leaned down to brace his hands on either side of you. “Need you to be sweet for me just a bit longer, okay, baby?”

“God,” you whimpered when the heaviness of his balls came to rest on your sensitive clit.

It was the second time you’d uttered His name.

Joel almost grinned at the irony. He found his rhythm, groaning in gut-deep satisfaction with each snap of his hips—each smooth stroke in and each smooth stroke out.

“Oh fuck, sweet girl.” Heaven was indeed a real place, and Joel Miller was buried in it to the hilt, right at this very moment.

He was getting closer and closer.

Maybe it was your eagerness to help him reach his own release mingled with the pride you knew you would feel once you did that gave you a second wind, a fresh, new burst of energy. You planted your hands firmly on his pillow. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you curved your spine and pushed back onto Joel with purpose, meeting his thrusts halfway as you rode his aching length to the satiation that waited for him at the end.

“There’s my girl,” he rasped. “Oh fuckin’ Christ—”

No way he could live his life without you now.

He needed you.

He needed you so much more than you needed him.

Joel slipped an arm around your shoulders, across your chest.

“Oh!” you gasped as he then yanked you back, pulling you flush against him. The rough crash of your back against his chest, combined with the angle in which he was fucking you knocked the wind out of your lungs.

His lips were at the shell of your ear. “Stay,” he panted, his breath hot against your cheekbone. He wrapped his other hand lightly around your throat. Relentless, were his hips now—his movements had become frantic. Desperate. “Stay with me, baby.”

Even as you fought to catch your breath in the position he had you in, you picked up on the fact that he wasn’t asking you of it, nor was he demanding you of it.

He was begging you.

Him, the most feared man in this town. Begging you?

“Joel,” you choked.

“Please, my little dove,” he pleaded, turning your head towards him. His mouth was then on the corner of your own, his beard roughly scratching the soft and delicate flesh of your cheek. “I need you, babygirl. Stay with me. Please, just fuckin’ stay with me.”

Your hands curled around his wrists. “Yes, I’ll stay,” you moaned. “I’m yours, Joel. I’m all yours. I—I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’ll stay with you.”

A low, guttural sound rumbled through his chest. Joel firmly took hold of your cross, and without so much as a warning, he ripped the chain from around your neck and tossed it somewhere over his shoulder. He heard it land on the hardwood floor with the tiniest, faint clink the moment he spilled into you, ropes of warm release coating your fluttering walls. Curses and groans spilled from his lips and into your neck. Your cunt clutched at his pulsing cock, greedy for every last drop of his spend she could get.

Once you were filled, you both collapsed beside each other on the bed, heaving to catch a steady breath.

“Y’okay, sweetheart?” Joel managed to ask, his chest still rising and falling rapidly.

Exhausted, all you could do was nod and utter, “Mhm.”

He exhaled an amused huff through his nose. “C’mere.” He reached for you and pulled you against his side. He draped an arm around your shoulders, holding you as close to him as was possible. “Y’did so good, honey.”

Your mouth curled into a small, contented smile.

Several minutes had passed by, and despite telling him that you were too tired to even think about moving, Joel made you get up and use the bathroom, and while you did so, he ran a clean washcloth under warm water. “Here, darlin’. Let me clean you up,” he’d said, his lips meeting your forehead in a loving token of affection before he sank down onto one knee and ran the damp cloth along the insides of your thighs. He took extreme care when he wiped at your swollen folds, knowing you were still sensitive to the touch. “There we go. All done, now.”

Not long after, you were both back in his bed, wrapped up in his sheets.

Yawning, you nuzzled into bare his chest, your eyelids feeling heavier and heavier with each and every second that ticked by. You’d started drifting off when you heard his voice.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” you answered sleepily, eyes still closed.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“Mean what, Joel?”

There was a brief pause. “Y’know, when you said you’d stay with me.”

Snuggling closer to him, you mumbled, “Mhm. Of course I did.”

“S’not gonna be easy,” Joel murmured into your hair.

“I know.” You yawned. “But I have you.”

“You do. You’ve got me—and I’ve got you, babygirl.”

“Mm. I know that too, Joel.”

You felt him kiss the top of your head and then fell fast asleep in his arms.

The sun bloomed over the Grand Tetons.

Your father would wake soon, that’s to say if he wasn’t up already.

The nerves began to set in.

Joel must have sensed it. “Breathe, baby. S’gonna be okay,” he soothed, squeezing your hand.

With one of his warmer, heavier jackets that normally didn’t see the light of day until winter season draped around your shoulders, the two of you made your way down the road and towards your house. Or better said, towards your father’s house. Because after what you were about to do, that yellow and white cottage would no longer be a place you could call home.

He led you up to the porch. “Y’sure you don’t want me to go in there with you?” he asked, quietly.

You could have laughed. You almost did.

“Do you believe that to be a wise choice?”

“No, I reckon it ain’t the best idea,” Joel admitted with a sigh, raking his free hand through his unkempt, salt and pepper hair. He looked up at the house, then back at you. “Look, little dove. No matter what happens in there, just know that everythin’ will be alright. M’gonna take care of you. For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. I’ll try my hardest to be everythin’ you need.”

“You already are, Joel,” you said, your gaze earnest.

His chest swelled with warmth.

Truth be told, Joel didn’t know how he had managed to defy the odds—how he, of all people, had managed to make his way into that sweet, innocent, beautiful little heart of yours, but somehow he did, and he would not take this responsibility lightly.

He brushed your lips with his and promised, “Gonna be waitin’ right here, okay?”

“Okay.” Inhaling deeply, you willed yourself to let go of his hand and took a step back. You then started up the porch steps on wobbling legs. When you made it to the top, you glanced over your shoulder at Joel, who gave you a subtle nod of encouragement. Exhaling slowly, you reached for the knob with trembling fingers and turned it, opening the door. You stepped inside, your heart dropping into your stomach when you saw your father sitting there at the foot of the staircase, as if he’d been waiting for you. He had been waiting for you. Fully dressed, he sat on the second to last step with both hands folded on his bible in his lap, a rosary clutched between them. “Papa?”

He said nothing. Instead, he silently observed you—his eyes glazed over the men’s jacket and the short dress you wore underneath it, the disheveled, loose hair and kiss swollen lips. Your holy cross nowhere to be seen.

“Papa.” You swallowed harshly and shifted your weight anxiously from the heel of one boot to the other. “We, um—we really need to have a talk.”

He peered around you, catching a brief glimpse of the man standing outside, waiting for you at the foot of the porch.

He cleared his throat, lightly. “Yes, child. I suppose that we do.”

Nodding tightly, you turned around and slowly closed the door. Joel’s words rang in your mind over and over, giving you the push of strength you knew you would need.

I’ve got you.

divider credit goes to @saradika 🤍

#fic: fall into temptation #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x afab!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller angst #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #post outbreak joel

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freelancearsonist · 10 months ago

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Won't You Suffer for the Angels to Fly?

➔ Joel Miller x fem!Reader - 2k

➔ Joel finds religion in the last place he expected to--a preacher's daughter.

➔ Rated MA for pure blasphemy. a lot of religious imagery and defiling of holy places--please read at your own risk. unprotected p in v sex, creampie, squirting, fingering (f receiving), corruption kink, HEFTY age gap (r is early 20s [unspecified], joel is 56), reader uses feminine pronouns and has female anatomy [please let me know if i missed anything at all :)]

➔ this is for my mid to plus!sized readers :) you're beautiful and valid and i love you. this was written in basically one sitting after i binged mike flanagan's midnight mass in one night. thank you to my lovelies @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin and @shakespeareanwannabe for talking me through this <3 title is from "heaven only knows" by bob moses

The Bible teaches–at least according to what Joel was able to gleam from the Easter service–that everything happens for a reason. That every pelting raindrop in its descent from the sky, even before it lands heavy and dark in his hair or soaks the lush green landscape of Jackson, has a purpose.

He’s struggled a lot with purpose ever since hearing that existential crisis-inspiring sermon that Tommy had dragged him to.

In the preacher’s defense, it went over well with everyone else. So many people are lost nowadays, adrift in a world that doesn’t seem to have space for them. They need that hope, that reassurance that they’re here for a reason. That they’ve survived hell on earth not out of luck, but out of purpose. He pulled out the big gun that everyone needed to hear on one of the two days a year that everyone in Jackson has their ears open to him. It was tactful, and Joel has to acknowledge that. Your father is clever, if not cunning.

It’s a trait that you’ve learned directly from him, whether purposeful or not. But you sat right in the front row and nodded along to every word, accepting without thought or conflict that purpose is in every action, every reaction, every change of tide and every gust of wind.

And if everything has a purpose, your purpose must be to torture him.

You never have anything but a smile on your face for Joel. Joel, a man older than your own father, a man whose hands have broken every commandment that you hold so dear. A man that should know better than to let you get under his skin and infect his dreams.

He wonders what it would be like to hold someone so perfectly untainted in hands that have killed and destroyed and sinned. Hands that are strong, hands that are experienced, hands that are greedy. He’s certain he could teach you all about greed. He could make you beg, plead, sob for more and more and more until the only thought remaining in your pretty little head is how much you want to take from him. Until you become a glutton at the altar of his generosity.

And oh, how generous he could be once he had you begging. Minding your manners and asking nicely for what you need, of course, but he would never deny you anything you asked of him.

“Can I help you with that, Mr. Miller?” He hadn’t even noticed he was struggling–and he wouldn’t be, really, if he wasn’t so distracted. Putting new legs on a pew isn’t the issue after all; it’s the fact that you’re sitting there on the stairs that lead up to the altar and absentmindedly swinging your legs as if you’re taunting him. As if you understand that his resolve is slipping with every passing second he’s alone in this room with you.

“Joel.”

“Hmm?” You shift your posture to lean closer, and that skirt that’s already way too short to be worn by the pastor’s daughter, in a house of God of all places, rides just a little further up your deliciously full thighs.

How is he expected to work, to keep his mind on the job, when all he wants is to know what those thighs might feel like wrapped around his head?

He clears his throat and adjusts “You can call me Joel, sweetheart.”

He sees it, then. It’s so subtle, but it’s not imagined. You squirm at the pet name, at the raspy drawl of his voice, and it changes everything for him.

He sees in his mind the sweet girl, barely out of her teens, who sits in the front pew with a Bible in her lap. He sees the girl who sings so sweetly to the tune of every hymn. He sees the girl who’s so shy that she blushes every time she catches his gaze.

And then he sees everything underneath the act. He sees the girl who’s bold enough to wear a bright red dress to the Easter service. He sees the girl who makes eye contact with him across the dining hall every night to watch the way he reacts to her lips wrapped so tantalizingly smoothly around her spoon. He sees the girl who knew he would be alone in the chapel today–the girl who wore an easily accessible skirt just for the occasion.

You bookmark the page you’re on and set down the book you were reading, eyes fixated on him all the while. “Is there something I can help with, Joel?”

There certainly is, and it’s not the pew he’s supposed to be repairing.

He remembers, vaguely, hearing something about how God spares guilt from sinners when sin is necessary. It must be necessary to teach you a lesson, then–as you stride over and kneel beside him, your eyes heavy with anticipation and lashes fluttering, he doesn’t feel an ounce of guilt.

“Hasn’t your daddy taught you not to dress like this?” He takes the hem of your skirt idly in his hand, rubs the silky fabric between his thumb and forefinger. He’s not touching you, not really, but his hand is so achingly close. An inch or two, and he’d feel your warmth–those plush thighs that God created to rule over Joel Miller’s mind, body, and soul; ‘til death does he finally know peace, amen.

You shake your head and even manage to seem smug as you say, “No. He just teaches everyone else to resist temptation.”

“I’ve never been much good at that,” he murmurs.

He thinks that you know that. He thinks that you’re his crucible, his most important moral trial–that maybe, if he can turn you away now, he’s a good man.

Joel Miller is not a good man. His kiss is crushing. It’s hellfire, it’s brimstone, it’s everything you’ve been taught to fear your entire life. You melt into it so prettily, accepting your damnation with parted lips and eager eyes. A wanton moan gets caught in your throat when his hand slips further up your skirt.

No panties–in a place of worship, no less. He should bend you over his knee for this transgression, make sure you understand how filthy you are. But there’s hardly time for that now, not when he’s even more desperate than you are. And you are desperate–dripping down his fingers into the palm of his hand as your teeth leave perfect little indents in the plush skin of your bottom lip.

His free hand grips your chin firmly, guiding your eyes to his. He wants to see your depravity, the flickering embers of lust in your eyes as you come on his fingers and cry out for salvation from the all-consuming pleasure.

“Oh my God–”

His hand tightens around your jaw just the slightest bit in warning. “No, baby. You moan my name when I’m touchin’ you.”

And you do–thighs trembling, eyes watering, you cry out his name like a prayer as your cunt pulses and squeezes around his willing fingers.

There’s an unpracticed tremble to your hand as you reach to work open his belt, and it makes his cock throb under the confining material of his jeans.

You want every inch of his skin pressed against yours, so desperate for it that you’re nearly in tears when he pulls your fingers away from the buttons on his shirt. He’s not foolish–no one steps foot into this place during the week, but he knows better than to tempt God’s sense of humor. This has to be quick and contained, and you know it too; you picked your little skirt for exactly that reason.

He catches a glimpse of your glistening need as you settle over his thighs, and once again he battles to resist temptation. He whispers in your ear as you settle your chest against his and grind that fluttering, sensitive cunt along his length–promises himself more than you, really, that he’ll bury his face in your folds and drink from you next time. Next time–the promise makes you clench impossibly hard around nothing.

His eyes have never been quite as heavy as they are when you start to sink that dripping heat down his cock. Head tipped back, throat exposed, completely at your mercy. He has to force himself to look up at you–to worship the goddess enshrined on his altar, all his for the taking.

You bite into your lip nearly hard enough to draw blood as your hips settle against his, completely overwhelmed by the burning stretch of his size. He’s a challenge, certainly, but one that you are determined to overcome.

“Easy, baby girl,” he grumbles as you start to rock against him before you’re truly accommodated. His hands rest heavy on your hips–not anchoring, but encouraging. As wrong–as depraved–as this may be, he wants you to enjoy it without pain. “That’s right, nice and slow.”

It doesn’t stay that way, though; the desperation mounts to a boiling point until you’re bouncing fervently in his lap. It’s delicious, the way the thick head of him drags against something deep and sensitive within you. He guides you when your thighs start to burn, grip tightening enough to leave forbidden bruises in the soft flesh of your hips. His mouth presses to yours, breathing the oxygen straight from your lungs as he presses his hips up. There’s nothing you can do but take it, pliant in his hold, head rolling back to accommodate the wet drag of his mouth and the tickling scratch of his beard against your throat.

He feels it before you do–a subtle flutter as your cunt tries sucking him in even deeper. And maybe, if he was a good man, he’d lean away from it and have mercy on you. But he’s not a good man–he’s a greedy, wanton, desperate man. He angles his hips and thrusts as hard as he can, shoving you into your release with force.

You overflow with it; gushing over him like a flood, staining his hastily pushed down jeans and the floorboards beneath.

He pushes you onto your back like you’re weightless, adrenaline coursing as he starts to slam into you. It’s not polite or sweet or loving–he fucks into you and empties himself like an animal. He growls deep in his throat as his cock pulses within you, instructing you to “take it, baby girl” as if you’d consider anything less.

You don’t know where your release ends and his begins. All you know is his weight on top of you, his mouth on your jaw, the collective breathless pants that fill the room as you both come down together.

You’re not sure how long it is before he pulls out of your warmth with an actual whine, breath heavy against your neck where his face is so comfortably nestled.

And you start to laugh, because you wish you’d worn panties after all–you don’t know how you’re going to get home with the mess of cum that’s dripping down the curve of your ass.

He even chuckles with you, until he tears his eyes away from your blissed face and sees the cross hanging heavy on the far wall.

“Th-that…” he gulps. “That can’t happen again.”

“It can,” you assure him, and he supposes you’re right.

You keep your head down and your eyes to yourself on Sunday, even as you spot the barely-noticeable stain on the hardwood floor next to the newly-repaired pew on the right side of the aisle. It’s so faint that no one would notice it unless they were looking for it, but it’s glaringly obvious to you. You should be ashamed; you should be begging for forgiveness. But then you meet Joel’s watchful eyes, and the shame washes away. How can you feel guilty over an act of worship?

THE END

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netherfeildren · 9 months ago

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Notes On a Virtuous Affair

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: One would think this road ends in something virtuous—a greenness so dazzling it hurt the eyes—and not the sort of man waiting in his far out removed solitude.

He was the experienced one, you the innocent. It should have been different. Maybe it should’ve felt different. And yet, there was something in him that made you feel very much the conquering one, you the baptizing one.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Post outbreak; Jackson Joel Miller; Dom/sub undertones; Rough Sex; Impact Play; Face Slapping; Spanking; PIV sex; Ass Play; Oral Sex (m!receiving); Come Eating; Throat Fucking; Unprotected Sex; Potentially Toxic Dynamics? (haha?); Complicated Feelings; They Love Each Other in Their Own Weird Way, Ok?; Older Man/Younger Woman; Idk What This Is, I Don't Expect You to Either;

A/N: miss you guys, sorry for the disappearing act <3

Word Count: 3.1K

Read on AO3

Notes On a Virtuous Affair

Sunlight spills over everything, and the pastoral green leads you to him.

One would think this road ends in something virtuous—a greenness so dazzling it hurt the eyes—and not the sort of man waiting in his far out removed solitude.

But there’s an incongruity afoot here that only you appreciate.

The secret lies in that there’s a riddle woven through the three miles you pilgrim to see him weekly. The first, a boon, the green lush wasteland, if a thing that’s alive can be wasted. The second, an honesty, I’ll venture this distance for him. The third, a precursor, when your muscles start to tingle, your thighs, hot and itchy, nape, coated in a taste of salt. Your feet crunch along the gravel and dirt, protected by the soft leathered boots inherited from Lucy who’d died last Monday. A good start to the week, with new boots, and a thoughtful gift she’d left you, your friend, when your own shoes were so worn from all the walking you do for him. The end of the world changes death, finds good things within it.

The sun warms the bridge of your nose, and you tip your face up to the too-bright light, trying your hardest to look straight at the intensity of it. He’s very much like this too. Why would you look directly at the sun if not for the hurting it brings? Your palms splayed forward at your sides, the breeze moving through your fingers, and the world is all around you alive in this apocalypse.

Jackson is left further and further behind as you move towards him, and what no one understands, not even Joel Miller himself, is that there is something virtuous about this affair.

“I’m gonna fuck your mouth now,” he says down at you, bare as the day you were born and kneeling before his clothed and towering height. Nothing but the heavy hanging length of his cock is naked for you, the first you’d ever seen in your whole life. If he had his way, the only one you’d ever see for the rest of it. The wide head is slick and glossy, the way it bobs obscenely from his open jeans looking like the weight of it would hurt, the way it juts from the bed of hair at this groin like a threat to you.

You know now, after all his focused training, that it only hurts him when you don’t tend to it as he needs, that it’s only a threat when you fail to do the same. He’s shown you the rules of hurting, in all these months you’ve come your three promised miles to him time after time. Shown you how it comes easy, that of hurting someone you love. A running in place sort of thing. You know all the steps that will come, the exact spot you’ll tread in. The way to propel yourself forward to finally leave that same place, avoid it, if you want.

“Open wider. Won’t fit like that,” he clicks his tongue, voice a burr as he grips his throbbing flesh and with the other too big hand, also like a seeming threat, but not, he gives you a quick, softly stinging slap to the high of your cheekbone. The sound, fast and snapping like his disapproving tongue. You swallow a moan, looking up at him with that look in your eyes you know disturbs him, adoration, letting the hinges of your jaw go loose, saliva pooling beneath the cover of your tongue. “Don’t you want me?” He asks.

And you blink once, moan crossing the bridge to a laugh if your mouth wasn’t stretched wide as it’ll go. He sees it though, skipping water in your eyes and gives that half smile, the mean one, the one that says he has all the answers in the world, knows all the things there are to know, that one you like best. Good girl, and his voice makes no sound, only the shape of the words on his mouth. You haven’t been good enough yet to hear the real thing of them out loud. This tells you that you must apply yourself to the task at hand, making him come.

One heavy tap to the flat of your tongue sticking out for him first, and then he’s slicking that fat head against the surface, giving you the first real taste, salt and musk trickle down the back of your throat and you moan again, eyes screwing shut tight, cunt aching something fierce. Leaking just like the tip of his cock leaks too.

That’s the thing about this thing, the one you see very well and Joel still fails to. The two of you, as disparate as you might seem, are the same in all the basic but most important ways. Too much in common for him to look at in the eye comfortably and still do the things you do.

“Open your throat. Get me hard.” In your head, he calls you baby. In reality, only sometimes, when you’re extra good, does that happen. But in your imagination, where it matters more, he doesn't ask nice, but you are his baby.

He slides back, back, hits the end of your throat, pulls out against the wet heat of your tongue. You keep your jaw wide until you feel him harden entirely, until he stretches his neck back, tendons jumping stark, clench of his jaw fluttering with a choked groan. “Suck me,” your permission to savor him like you need to.

Hands pressed firmly to your bare knees, not digging at your soft wet like you’d like, or pawing at him as you’d like even more, you close your lips around him, cheeks hollowed and suck hard, tonguing at his slit on the pull back so that he’s bearing his teeth at you in a growl and shoving forward again hard, a snarl as the cinch of your tight throat strangles the head of his cock on every one of your swallows. Your eyes water, but he pets softly at the same spot he’d stung earlier with his slap.

A game you used to play with your siblings, who could slap one another harder until the other gave out. It’d taken a while for you to come to the realization, but eventually, you’d realized the memory of it in your mind as it exists now wasn’t innocent the way it should’ve been. That there had been something you’d liked about it in a strange way—that hurting. That the first time you’d asked Joel to play the same game with you, you’d wanted him to slap you other places just as hard until you gave out also.

The games were part of the thing. His own strange rules, like the way you couldn’t touch him sometimes—you dig your bitten down nails into the soft skin of your inner thighs—only when he said it was okay was it allowed. The way you were never allowed to touch your cunt unless he said so also. He had weird things about him, turned strange by the dangerous ways of life. Like the solitude, the house out and away, the begging you had to do for him to have you.

Sameness.

He wraps his fist in your hair, more sting, “Gonna fill your belly with my come, yeah?” His thrusts pick up pace, pulling your head back as far as your neck allows so that he can fuck your throat in full, jaw hanging wide, and you’re just the wet and willing hole you know he sometimes wishes you could always stay as.

The thick cock against your tongue throbs once, twice and then he’s spilling hot and heavy down your open throat, sweet salt against the back of your tongue while you try and breathe through his strangling, tears spilling.

When he pulls back, slipping wet and heavy from your mouth you fall forward onto your palms, breathing fast, almost hyperventilating, stinging with the forced will to remain obedient. Your spine burns beneath your skin and your sore jaw hangs unwillingly open, sloppy mouth dripping a string of semen between your splayed palms.

He crouches before you, dripping cock like your mouth, milked to heavy softness hangs long and sated between his thighs. And he pets your crown, the vulnerable shell of your ear, whole body on fire so that every inch of skin hurts without his touch, hurts worse with it.

“Good girl,” he says now with voice.

The walk seems longer some days. A thousand miles plus an eon instead of merely three. Especially on the days you’re more desperate than usual. The ones when your stomach feels full of sugar for him and the memory taste of his cock is already aching in your molars. Those days your steps are hurried, look in your eyes frenzied to get to him, to escape the things you leave behind. A too full house, your sister’s squalling, teething baby, your little brothers, and too many mouths to feed and not attention to be had, not enough mother for everyone to get loved.

There’s reasons for this game between the two of you, you’d had to come out and find your attention somewhere else.

Your love too.

And if it comes with a sting sometimes, well, so had your mother’s. You like it like this now.

The first time he’d touched your cunt: show me that pretty pussy, baby, and he’d had you from that very first sweet word, you gonna let me finger it? You’d spread wide, leaked into the cup of his palm like a whore, you’d needed to make sure he was for keeping from the first try, you see. So you’d done all he’d said, taken four fingers and only cried a little bit but whined a lot. Been all, hurts, Joel, high pitched and dragging his name out on a puppy whimper.

He’d given you that first lesson in hurt the very first time: Yeah? Supposed to. A real mean man. And then made you gush into that very cupped palm so that he could drink of your sweetness.

The third mile comes to an end, the precursor, over, his house in view. It’s all quiet and slumbering and the long grass pulls you forward with its wind blown sway. The wide door to his shed is propped open, half finished rocking chair up on the workbench that sways with the intruding gust. The grass whispers behind you, the dark woods across the field moan, and he’s nowhere while the Tetons loom in the distance.

You drag your fingers along the slats of his house as you pass, everything is so quiet, like he’d never been here. Like he’d gone and left you the way he’s promised he’d never do. Your belly feels bloated with heat, heart turned into four incongruous chambers that no longer beat in tune, memories of him rioting between each thump. Your cunt goes soft and drooling in your panties as your fear beats higher and higher, and you come to the mouth of the shed, peering into the cool darkness of this little place where he makes his beautiful things. The things that go into people’s homes to be used by people’s families to be stored in people’s memories.

The gleam of the sun does not cross the threshold, and you brace your palms on either side of the wide door, the air thrums and he’s not here—yet—you slide the toe of Lucy’s old boot across the border of sunlight into sanctuary and peek your closed-eyed face into the shade right before you’re taken bodily to the ground by his heavy weight. Palms catching splinters, his strong chest heaves into the line of your spine, strong arm at your waist to pull your breath from your lungs and your legs from under you.

He forces you belly first to the ground, other hand circling your throat in the imitation of a strangle lest you lose yourself and decide to struggle for the first time ever. But you dig your fingernails into the dirt, scratching for purchase in preparation of what’s about to come, all the fight going out of you; body, half in shadow, half in sunlight. Your bones feel salt bleached. An over abundance of sodium in the blood that renders you catatonic for him.

He nuzzles soft at your nape while his hand shoves under your dress, ripping your underwear down your legs so that the elastic cuts into your tender skin to hurt. All incongruous movement, this man is.

“Didn’t your daddy ever tell you not to go creepin’ ‘round strange men’s homes?” His voice is so deep, drawled, broken up into different notes of lust and anger and temerity. All the strange things that make Joel Miller up.

Yeah, you sigh into the dirt. “Told me exactly how it’d go for me if I did.”

You hitch your rump up then, presenting your cunt for fucking. The breeze doesn’t do half to soothe the throbbing wet. The sort of ache that’ll only be fixed by something heavy inside the hurting place. The sound of his belt quiets the disparate chambers, the beat in your ears of rushing blood is uniform now, there’ll be a wet spot in the shape of you in the dirt when he’s through. You lift your hips higher, knees scraped rough as you spread wider, face pressed to the ground and your fingers are well and burrowed in their little gouges now.

He smacks the heft of it against you asshole, spits and presses a little. He likes to scare you sometimes. Nooo, Joel, all whining stutter, but with your back arching deeper like a little babied liar; you don’t mind where he puts it, only that he puts it somewhere.

“Hush,” he soothes all nice, spanks your ass once all not— “Gonna teach you a lesson.” And shoves inside, bumping against your womb on the first try, stretching your hole too wide, too quick. And there’s no prep, no qualm. No need to hesitate when you own a thing. You swallow your animal cry, ah ah ah, you want to hear how good you’ve been out loud. He grips your hips tight enough to bruise which is what you know he wants and fucks hard and fast, each swing whistles with ownership.

He fucks you in the dirt like an animal, and this affair is virtuous.

He teaches you the truth about hurting, about ownership, about so many things that only a man like Joel Miller could teach a girl like you. And all the while he tells you that you’re too pretty to take such an ugly fucking.

The way he works your cunt, hungry, balls swinging wet so that they sting like his slaps, tip battering hard so that it aches like gratitude.

These are the things three miles give you. A whole man to teach you about the whole world.

The slick squelch of your overwhelmed cunt sounds loud, no more disparate heartbeat, no more green grassed whispers. Only the sound of his grunting above you like an animal remains. “You’re the perfect little cunt. You know that, baby?” There it is, you sigh. Start to tremble around him like that, like his good baby that you are, desperate flutters, little gash being fucked into obedience like you need. Your overwhelmed pants make little dirt dream clouds before your eyes as you start to come for him, crying his name, crying your love, crying that you’re so, so thankful.

“Don’t stop, Joel. Not yet.” And he loves it when you beg, loves it when your cunt pulls tight like a knot.

“Not yet,” he promises because he might be a real mean man, but he loves you like separating salt from blood.

Complicated and precise.

When he’s through with you, there’s sunlight spilling over everything again. It’s journey goes on and on, and his semen drips from your cunt now. He turns gentle, thrusting still, making sure it’s fucked deep, pulsing in time with your own throb. Rhythms merge between the two of you.

His rules are strange, his claims over you equally mysterious. He won’t say things out loud, won’t let you touch any real part of him, but his strange truths ring loud anyways, and when your heart isn’t disjointed, you hear him perfectly well.

When he lays you out bare and trembling across his messy bed, the groaned pains of his age and rutting in the dirt like an animal sound from him as he drapes himself alongside you. Large and hairy, feet hanging off the end of the bed, entirely real with one knee propped up so that his thick cock lays heavy and soft over the swell of his belly. Your heart beats soft and overfull now.

You watch the sun set across the planes of his chest and bask in the blue dark as the night draws breath around you. The work of meting out obedience to little girls who come searching for it is toiling, and you watch him melt into sleep, but right before he’s just gone away from you, with a single finger petting at the jut of the old broken bone in his shoulder, your whispered plea: Will you give me a falseness? You don’t call it a lie. This is a virtuous thing, after all.

Lies aren’t allowed in this house.

He breathes a deep sigh, and you watch the fan of his long lashes sweep open, staring up at the shadowed rafters of his home. You swear you can see each and every individual whisker in his thick beard, dark and gray dispersed throughout. You see every single detail.

He’d told you once there were ghosts here, in this house, and you’d learned later it wasn’t a lie. This became more and more obvious the more you got to know him.

He stares up at them now.

When he’d taken your virginity, when it’d left you the way you’d always imagined it would, covered in tears and blood and semen, you’d made that promise to each other. That you wouldn't lie, that he’d have all of you, that you’d not touch all of him. The ghost lay beside you in the damp bed of your lost innocence that day. It’d been just so ever since and over many miles of three you’d come to appreciate the realities of it. Who could be more connected than two people who always tell each other their truths exactly as they are?

“Give me a falseness,” you say again, not a lie.

“A good kind of a bad kind?”

You flip a mind’s coin, wish you could see the exact ghosts he sees— “Bad.”

He turns to look at you, this half smile he wears is your second favorite one now, the honest one, and it’s all there for you to see. All the disparate chambers of Joel, just like your heart beating in your ears. You suppose the ghosts don’t matter then.

“I don’t love you.”

And you nod solemn. Bad, like a whisper, like your game.

You smile back, the one you know he likes best, the one that looks like his.

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#vic fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #Joel Miller smut #joel miller #the last of us AU

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sempersirens · 9 months ago

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DAUGHTER LESSONS | a joel miller oneshot

masterlist

summary: would it kill joel to just touch you?

warnings: established relationship, infidelity, jackson-era, no mention of age, angst

author's note: so... i have been disgustingly obsessed with COWBOY CARTER (duh! i have taste) and have fixated on the duality of daddy lessons and DAUGHTER, which thereby produced this lovechild of the two. you guys know i love me some religious imagery and angst...

Nothing could’ve confined you to a pew in your youth.

Your knees had breathed a sigh of relief at the absence of a blood-red kneeler when you were granted Sunday morning autonomy. Only your grandmother’s morbid prophecies of watching mass from above this time next year herded you between the rows of wooden benches at Easter and Christmas.

Maybe it was her you were trying to reach; chin tipped to the ceiling as if you would be overcome with the smell of potpourri and Irish coffee, heart flooded with all the right answers.

Still, nothing good came.

“Didn’t expect t’find you in here.” His familiar drawl pricks at the hairs on your neck.

“I was trying out solitude.”

Joel had always moved with surprising stealth for someone of his build, but nothing he did these days surprised you anymore.

You had given him everything since meeting shortly after his and Ellie’s arrival in Jackson. It hadn’t taken long for you to witness his undoing.

But this time, Joel doesn’t move.

Rather, he stands in the middle of the aisle taking in the sight of you on your knees four rows ahead and to his left. Your hands are clasped so tightly together he can see the whites of your knuckles from this far back.

Joel knows the back of your head more intimately than he probably should.

You have a habit of turning away from him in bed at night the second you were overcome by the smallest amount of fatigue.

Too damn hot you would mumble from your tenure of the mattress. And he can’t say he minded too much.

Often, he would reach a hand to your hair spilling across the pillow onto his side before regaining sense and propping the hand underneath his head instead.

During your waking hours, languidly reciting the steps of your morning routine around his small kitchen, he feels the want to touch you.

He wants to smooth down the hair that always bobbled around the raised birthmark on your scalp. He wants to feel your cheek against the knuckle of his right index finger. He wants to take the coffee cup from your hands and engulf them in the warmth of his instead.

“She’s not here.” You mumble, so quietly that he’s not sure if that’s what you’ve actually said.

“Who?” He braves, wiping his sweating palms on the sleeves of his flannel shirt.

You respond with a scoff, confirming his hypothesis.

Of course she isn’t here. You both know very well that she isn’t here.

When Tommy had first introduced the two of you, he’d cornered Joel at the bar while ordering their third, or maybe fourth, round of drinks.

“She’s a good woman, Joel.”

“I’m figuring that out just fine.” He’d smirked, taking a preliminary sip of his beer before glancing back at you. Your elbows were perched on the wooden table, chin resting on your palms as you exchanged low-looks and snickers with Maria sat across from you.

“No, you don’t get it. She’s good. She’s kind. Her daddy’s the pastor here.”

“Not settin’ me up with a Bible basher are you, little brother? She gon’ make me wait until I give her a ring?”

He’d felt like an ass as soon as he’d opened his mouth, which was made worse by Tommy’s unchanging expression. He didn’t look irate or tired of Joel’s age-old shit – the face behind his warning was unwaveringly sincere.

“Just don’t hurt her.”

And in that moment, Joel couldn’t fathom anything as desacrating as hurting you. He had returned Tommy’s solemnity with a nod and carried your drinks back to your table; the remainder of the night blurring into the rest of his life.

He hadn’t fallen in love with you that night. Joel is stubborn in love, and it took months of langorous warmth to thaw his roughness.

You didn’t make him wait for a ring.

Nights spent in symphony with one another were the only moments Joel could bring himself to touch you. There, he knew how to work his hands, his tongue, his hips. Not once would he hesitate in reaching out to smooth a thumb across your forehead. He moved like a river, flowing into your body in desperation to meet the ocean.

And you wondered if he did it on purpose, or if he knew that he was doing it at all. Passing him in the intimacy of his home or the vastness of the food hall, you were only ever hungry for his skin against yours.

Slowly, you crept into his skin through his pores. You made his days sweeter and smoother wherever and however you could, hoping perhaps one evening his fingers would brush yours as you set a plate on the table before him.

But here you rise, swallowed in the rosy light of dawn with damp cheeks and all faith robbed from your chest.

“I can’t do this here, Joel.” You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand and attempt to put as much distance between the two of you as you pass him in the aisle.

“Then don’t. Come home.”

For a second he debates reaching out to you, wrapping you in his arms and letting you beat against his chest as your body racks with sobs. But the moment soon escapes him and he’s following you into the morning air.

“I buried my home a week ago.” You spoke flatly, bones void of any remnants of anger or fight. “You know what my daddy told me before he died?”

He thinks he does. Moreso, he can hazard a guess.

Nevertheless, he can’t quite seem to find his voice as you bring yourself to a halt. The morning sun peeks between the buildings behind you.

“Told me one day you’d play me for a fool. And look at me now.” You shook with breathy laughter. “He’s in the ground and there’s another woman keeping the man I love’s bed warm.”

Jackson would soon be rising with the sun. It had almost been a full day since you’d come home from patrol an hour earlier than Joel expected.

In truth, it hadn’t been the clothes strewn over kitchen chairs and draped over the bannisters. Not even the warm smell of salt and latex that hit you before you’d opened the bedroom door.

Joel’s fingers grazed the small of her back, tracing lazy shapes up and down her spine. Your stomach tightened into a small fist, losing all composure you had truly tried to maintain in your ascent up to the bedroom.

You had never even really been one to fight. Your father had taught you to handle yourself, and you’d learnt what was necessary to survive in the new world.

Really, you wanted to pollute the skin beneath Joel’s touch. You wanted for him to never touch anything beautiful again; to never grasp at cold cotton sheets in the middle of the night; to never feel the slow threat of rain tapping against his skin.

Life began to creep in around the two of you. Ellie and Tommy would soon come looking for Joel to set off on morning patrol.

“One day, Joel, someone is going to give you exactly what you deserve. And I pray to God that I’m there to see it.”

You turn on your heel, leaving Joel to watch as your hair sways from side-to-side down your back. He swallows the lump formed in his throat and tilts his chin to the sky, blinking away the threat of tears moistening his lower lashes.

He wipes his hands against his jeans and straightens his torso, forcing a low cough to clear his throat.

Peaches, he thinks. Tonight he will bring you peaches, and he will watch as the juice spills from the side of your mouth. He will reach a thumb to wipe it away, and he will hold you. For as long as you let him; as long as he breathes.

#joel miller x f!reader #joel tlou #the last of us #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #my fic #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller tlou #joel miller fanfic #joel x reader #tlou hbo #tlou #tlou2 #dee writes

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oceandolores · 5 months ago

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 5

Dbf! Joel Miller x female reader

"𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥, 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺."

summary: the rhythm of your days blends with the vibrant backdrop of your church’s dance preparations. Beneath the soft glow of Houston’s city lights and the gentle hum of Joel's truck, your deepening bond with him unfolds amidst stolen moments and whispered confessions. As you navigate the delicate dance of your emerging feelings, Joel’s own transformation remains veiled from his family.

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.

CHAPTER 5

masterlist of the series!

previous | chapter 4

next | chapter 6

The anticipation for the church dance troupe's performance was building. The whole town was buzzing with excitement as the event drew near, only two weeks away. The performance would be a grand spectacle attended by everyone in town, including all the elders, and it was scheduled for the same day your father was set to return.

The first week of preparation was filled with rigorous rehearsals. You and your friends gathered at the community fellowship building, a bustling hub of activity. Jemima, Pastor Ben's wife, along with a few other church members, coordinated the practices. The adults were always around, providing guidance and encouragement.

The church dance troupe was more than just an extracurricular activity; it was a lifeline, a vessel of hope and validation that you clung to. Each dance step, every twirl, and every leap was a silent plea for recognition, especially from your father. You had always loved dancing, finding solace in the rhythm and movement. It was the one place where you felt free, where the world and its heavy expectations seemed to melt away.

This performance was different. It was not just another event; it was a grand spectacle that could potentially alter the trajectory of your family's standing in the community. The mayor of the town would be there, along with other influential figures and elders. It was an opportunity for your family to be thrust into the spotlight, a chance to shine and, more importantly, a moment to make your father proud.

Your father, a man of stern demeanor and unyielding expectations, had always demanded excellence. He often showed you off, his actions speaking louder than his words. To him, you were a reflection of the family name, a testament to his own efforts and discipline. The thought of this performance being a success was not just about personal achievement for you; it was about carrying the weight of familial pride and expectation.

The rehearsals were intense, each session a blend of sweat, dedication, and the relentless pursuit of perfection. Jemima and the other coordinators pushed you and your friends hard, knowing the significance of the event. As you practiced, you imagined your father watching you, his eyes scrutinizing every move, his expression a mask of stern judgment.

During breaks, the atmosphere was filled with the usual activities of a church community—people chatting, sharing snacks, and discussing the upcoming performance. Pastor Ben often made an appearance, ostensibly to support the group's efforts, but you couldn't help but notice his lingering gaze on you. Jemima was always busy coordinating the rehearsals and offering guidance, leaving Ben with ample opportunity to keep an eye on the group.

You and Emma had both noticed Ben's attentiveness, though it was you who seemed to capture his interest the most. His questions and small talk were frequently directed at you, and his presence seemed more pronounced whenever you were around. Despite the attention, you tried to remain polite and composed, responding to his questions with the same courtesy you showed everyone else.

As the day's rehearsal came to an end, you bid farewell to your friends and began gathering your things. Just as you were about to leave, Pastor Ben approached you, his steps confident and his smile warm.

"Hey," he greeted you.

You looked up, slightly startled but quickly masking your surprise. "Oh, hey, Pastor Ben."

He chuckled softly. "Please, just call me Ben. Using 'Pastor' makes me feel old."

You smiled politely. "Alright, Ben."

"So, how did the rehearsal go today?" he asked, his tone casual but his eyes attentive.

"It went well, I think," you replied, then added with a light smile, "You were there, well, what do you think?"

Pastor Ben chuckled softly, leaning against the doorframe. "You’re right, I was there. And from what I saw, you all are doing a wonderful job. There’s a real sense of unity in the group, and that’s something special."

You nodded, feeling a mix of pride and a little awkwardness under his steady gaze. "Thanks. We’ve been working hard, trying to make it something memorable."

Ben’s eyes softened as he looked at you. "I can see that. And you, especially, seem to put your heart into it."

You felt your cheeks flush slightly, unsure how to respond to the compliment. "Well, I love dancing, so... it’s important to me. And I want to make my family proud, especially my dad."

Ben’s expression turned thoughtful, and he nodded. "That’s a good motivation. I’m sure your father will be proud of you when he sees what you’ve accomplished."

"I hope so," you said, the weight of your father’s expectations pressing on your shoulders. "It’s not always easy to meet his standards."

Ben tilted his head, studying you for a moment. "Parents can be tough sometimes, especially when they have high expectations. But you should be proud of yourself, too. It’s clear you’re giving it your all."

You smiled politely, feeling a bit more at ease. "Thank you, Ben."

There was a brief pause, and Ben seemed to hesitate before speaking again. "Well, are you gonna go home? Do you need a lift?" he asked, his voice casual but with an undertone that made you feel slightly uneasy.

You hesitated, glancing toward the parking lot. You were supposed to meet Joel, and he had made it clear he’d be waiting for you at the back of the school, out of sight from anyone who might be watching.

"Oh, thank you, Ben," you began, choosing your words carefully. "But I’m actually meeting someone. I’ve got a ride, so I’m all set."

Ben raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Someone from the dance group?"

You forced a smile, shaking your head. "No, just a friend. We’re heading out for a bit."

"Boyfriend?" Ben asked, his tone casual, but there was a hint of something more behind the question—curiosity, maybe even a touch of jealousy.

Your heart skipped a beat at the word. You weren’t sure how to answer, not wanting to give away too much. "No, just a friend," you repeated, trying to keep your tone light. "We’re just going to hang out for a while."

Ben nodded slowly, but you could tell he wasn’t entirely convinced. "Well, be careful, alright? It’s getting dark out there."

"Of course," you replied, maintaining your polite demeanor. "Thanks, Ben."

With that, you turned to walk away, your heart beating a little faster. As you made your way around the side of the building, your eyes darted around, searching for Joel’s truck. You spotted it parked in the shadows, just as he had said it would be.

Joel was leaning against the truck, arms crossed, waiting for you. The moment you saw him, a sense of relief washed over you, dispelling the lingering unease from your conversation with Ben.

"Hey, doll," Joel greeted you as you approached. He pushed off from the truck and opened the passenger door for you. "Ready to go?"

You nodded, climbing into the truck. "Yeah, let’s get out of here."

Joel shut the door behind you, then walked around to the driver’s side and got in. As he started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, you couldn’t help but glance in the side mirror, half-expecting to see Ben watching from a distance. But the street was empty, and soon the school was behind you as you and Joel headed out of town.

"Everything okay?" Joel asked, noticing your pensive expression as he drove.

"Yeah," you replied, trying to shake off the lingering thoughts. "Just... Ben offered me a ride, and it felt a little weird."

Joel frowned slightly, glancing over at you. "Weird how?"

You shrugged, trying to put your feelings into words. "I don’t know. He just seemed...just forget about it," you said, hoping to brush it off, but Joel wasn’t letting it go that easily.

"Wait, what do you mean?" he asked, his tone more insistent.

You hesitated, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. "It’s nothing important."

Joel’s gaze remained fixed on you, his concern evident. "Doll... is he making you uncomfortable?"

You bit your lip, feeling a bit foolish for even bringing it up. "No, it’s just... he’s more interested in me than he should be. Like, he was paying a lot of attention during rehearsals and then offering me a ride. I don’t know, maybe I’m just overthinking it. Maybe he was just being nice and polite."

Joel’s frown deepened, his protective instinct kicking in. "If he’s making you feel uneasy, you need to tell me. Okay?"

You nodded, appreciating his concern. "Okay, I will."

There was a moment of silence, the tension from the conversation lingering in the air. You glanced out the window, watching as the town faded into the distance. The trip to Houston would take a while, and you wanted to shift the mood to something lighter.

"Joel," you asked, turning back to him, "can we listen to some music?"

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Sure, darling." He reached over to the radio and tuned in to a familiar station. As he did, the opening chords of "Harvest Moon" by Neil Young began to play, filling the truck with its soothing melody.

You couldn’t help but smile. "I love this song."

"Me too," Joel replied, his voice softening as the music enveloped the both of you.

As the song played, you let yourself get lost in the moment. The gentle strumming of the guitar and Neil Young’s tender voice seemed to wrap around you like a warm blanket, easing the tension that had settled in your chest. There was something timeless about the song, something that made you feel safe and understood, like everything was exactly as it should be, at least for now.

The lyrics spoke of love, of dancing together under the light of a harvest moon, and you found yourself wishing for that kind of simplicity in your own life. Being with Joel felt like that sometimes—like you were both in a world of your own, where the complications of your life couldn’t touch you. It was just the two of you, killing time on the road, the open highway stretching out before you like a promise of something more.

You look at Joel as he drives, your eyes tracing the lines of his face in the soft glow of the dashboard lights. The music played quietly in the background, creating a serene atmosphere that made this moment feel almost dreamlike. You couldn't help but admire him—how he looked so effortlessly handsome, even in the simplest moments.

Joel had a rugged and weathered appearance that only added to his appeal. His strong, muscular build was a testament to years of hard work, and the deep-set wrinkles around his eyes and mouth told stories of a life lived through hardship and survival. His dark hair, graying at the temples, and the scruffy beard he often wore gave him a rugged charm that was impossible to ignore.

His eyes, though—a striking, soulful brown—were what truly captivated you. There was a depth to them, a mix of sadness and wariness that hinted at the burdens he carried. But in this moment, as he drove with a steady hand, those eyes held a quiet intensity, softened by the comfort of being in your company.

Joel wasn't like the boys you knew from school or the men you saw in town. There was something about him, something that made your heart skip a beat whenever you were near him. Maybe it was the way he seemed so strong yet so gentle, or how he always knew just what to say to make you feel safe. Maybe it was the way he looked at you, not as a child or a preacher's daughter, but as someone who mattered, someone worth protecting.

His flannel shirt and worn jeans might have been simple, but on him, they looked perfect. The sturdy jacket he wore only added to his rugged appeal, making him look like the kind of man who could take on anything the world threw at him and come out on top. But more than his physical appearance, it was the way he carried himself—the quiet confidence, the steady calm—that drew you in.

As you watched him, you realized that Joel was the first man you'd ever looked at this way. He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t demanding or harsh. He was just... Joel. And for the first time since you were a child, you could see a man who wasn’t angry.

Joel was everything you hadn’t known you were looking for—strong, protective, kind. And as you sat there, in the passenger seat of his truck, you couldn’t help but feel that whatever this was between the two of you, it was something worth holding onto.

The miles continued to slip away as you let yourself get lost in the rhythm of the road, the steady hum of the engine, and the quiet comfort of Joel's presence. For the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

As you approached Houston, the city lights shimmered in the distance, a glittering array of orange and white against the dark canvas of the night sky. The sight of the city, so vibrant and alive, filled you with a sense of excitement. It was a stark contrast to the quiet, small-town life you were used to, and the thought of exploring something new with Joel by your side made your heart skip a beat.

Joel navigated the truck through the streets, eventually pulling up to a house on the outskirts of the city. It was still a work in progress, but even in its unfinished state, you could tell it was going to be beautiful. The structure was modest yet elegant, with clean lines and a minimalist design that felt both modern and warm.

As you stepped out of the truck, Joel gestured towards the house. "What do you think?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of pride.

You took a moment to take it all in, the smell of fresh wood and the faint scent of sawdust lingering in the air. "It's beautiful, Joel. Minimalist, not too big, not too small. It feels... cozy."

Joel nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "I wanted to keep it simple, but still make it something special."

You turned to him, curiosity getting the better of you. "So, who’s this house for? A client, or...?"

Joel shrugged, his expression thoughtful. "Not sure yet. The land was sold cheap by someone I know—he was in a tight spot and needed the money. I felt bad for him, so I bought it. Figured I’d put a house on it instead of letting the land just sit there. It's only about halfway done, still a lot left to finish."

He paused, glancing around the space as if seeing it for the first time through your eyes. "Maybe for Ellie one day. Or... maybe for you if you ever decide you want to leave that small town of ours."

His words left you momentarily speechless, a warm flutter spreading in your chest. You tried to play it off with a lighthearted joke. "Houston’s still too close to our town, Joel. If I ever leave, I might need to go much farther."

Joel chuckled softly, the sound deep and comforting. "Fair enough."

He led you through the house, showing you the different rooms, each space still in varying stages of completion. It was clear he had put a lot of thought into the design, making sure every detail was just right. Finally, he stopped in front of a set of glass doors. "The balcony’s almost done. Want to see it?"

You nodded eagerly, following him out onto the balcony. It was a stunning space, with a transparent roof that let you see the sky above while keeping you sheltered from the elements. The city lights flickered in the distance, but here, under the open sky, it felt like a world of its own.

"It’s taken almost a year to get it to this point," Joel admitted, his voice soft. "Sometimes I wasn’t sure if I wanted to keep going or just leave it as it was."

As you stepped further out, you noticed a couch on the balcony, neatly set up with blankets and pillows. It looked well-used, like someone had spent a lot of time there. You glanced at Joel, raising an eyebrow. "You come here often?"

Joel smiled, a bit sheepishly. "Yeah, when I need to clear my head. It’s quiet up here. Helps me think."

Before you could respond, Joel started straightening out the blankets on the couch, making it more comfortable. He then lay down, looking up at the sky. He patted the space beside him, inviting you to join him. "C'mere"

You smile and then lying down next to him. The couch was surprisingly comfortable, and as you settled in, you felt a wave of calm wash over you. The sky above was a blanket of stars, each one twinkling like a tiny beacon of light in the darkness.

Lying there beside Joel, you felt a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in a long time. The worries and expectations that weighed so heavily on you seemed to fade away, replaced by the simple joy of being in this moment with him. It was just the two of you, under the stars, sharing a quiet connection that didn’t need words.

After a while, Joel broke the comfortable silence. “So, you really want to get out of town after you graduate, huh?” His voice was low, almost contemplative.

You nodded, your gaze still fixed on the stars. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. I just… I don’t know exactly where yet. Maybe the East Coast or the West Coast. But I’ve always wanted to visit the West. Maybe California, Los Angeles… It’s just something about it, you know? All those Hollywood movies make it feel like a dream.”

Joel listened quietly, nodding as you spoke. You could feel his eyes on you, his presence a comforting weight beside you. After a moment, you turned the question back to him. “What about you, Joel? If you could go anywhere, where would you go? What would you do?”

Joel took a deep breath, as if considering the possibilities. “I’d like to live a simple life. An old farmhouse, some land, maybe a ranch,” he said thoughtfully. “I’d raise sheep. They’re quiet and do what they’re told.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the thought. “Farmlife sounds very nice, Joel. Peaceful.”

He chuckled softly, a sound that warmed your heart. “Yeah, I think it would be. But for now, construction pays the bills.”

You turned slightly to look at him, curiosity piqued. “But why construction? I mean, you’ve got a lot of money. You could leave town and move to the countryside if you wanted to.”

Joel sighed, his expression turning more serious. “Maybe. But it’s not just about the money, y’know? Construction... it gives me something to do, keeps my hands busy. After everything that happened, I needed something solid, something that made sense. Building things, working with my hands... it keeps me grounded.”

You could hear the weight of his words, the unspoken memories that lingered just beneath the surface. “And besides,” he continued, “leaving town isn’t as easy as it sounds. There’s a lot tied up in this place, a lot of memories, good and bad.”

You nodded, understanding more than you could ever say. “I guess I can relate to that.”

Joel turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours in the dim light. “You’ve got your whole life ahead of you, doll. You don’t have to make any decisions right now. Take your time, figure out what you really want.”

You smiled softly, feeling a deep sense of gratitude for him, for how he made you feel understood and safe.

Without overthinking it, you leaned in closer, your gaze briefly locking with his before you tilted your head up to kiss him. The kiss was soft, sweet, and gentle, an extension of the warmth that had been building between you two for weeks. Joel responded in kind, his arms tightening around you as if he didn’t want to let go.

But as the kiss deepened, a thought crept into your mind—Emma's words from the other morning, about how you could show love to someone you really liked or loved. The idea lingered, urging you to be bolder, to express just how much you cared about Joel in a more intimate way.

You hesitated for only a second before kissing him again, this time with more passion. Joel seemed surprised but played along, his lips meeting yours in a way that made your heart race. You let your hands explore, moving over his broad chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt. You were nervous, but the thought of showing him how much you cared kept pushing you forward.

Your kisses trailed down from his lips to his jaw, then lower to his neck, your hands beginning to wander further down his body. As you continued, you could feel Joel stiffen slightly beneath you, and just as your kisses were about to travel even lower, he suddenly pulled back, his voice firm but gentle.

“Whoa, darlin’,” he murmured, his hands coming up to hold you still. “What are you doing?”

You blinked up at him, confusion written all over your face. “I just... I want to show that I care about you and want to thank you,” you said softly, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Joel’s brow furrowed slightly. “What do you mean?”

You bit your lip, trying to find the right words. “Emma told me that... that when you really like someone, you can show them by, you know, doing things like this. I just wanted to... please you, I guess.”

For a moment, Joel just looked at you, his expression a mix of surprise and something else you couldn’t quite place. Then he sighed, his hands gently cupping your face, lifting your gaze to meet his.

“Listen to me, sweetheart,” he began, his voice low and earnest. “I appreciate that you care about me, more than you know. But this? This isn’t how you show that. You don’t need to do anything like this to prove how you feel, okay? Not to me, not to anyone.”

You felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you, realizing that maybe you’d misunderstood what Emma had meant. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, feeling a little foolish.

Joel shook his head, brushing a thumb across your cheek. “You don’t have to be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. But I want you to understand something: love, real love, isn’t about doing things to keep someone around or to make them happy. It’s about respect, trust, and caring for each other, no matter what. And I care about you, doll, more than you know. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

You nodded slowly, taking in his words. There was something comforting in knowing that Joel wasn’t expecting anything from you, that he cared for you just as you were.

Joel pulled you back into his arms, holding you close as if to reassure you. “Just being here with you, that’s more than enough for me,” he murmured, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

You snuggled into his embrace, feeling a deep sense of relief and gratitude. In that moment, you realized that what you had with Joel was special—something that didn’t need to be rushed or defined by anyone else’s expectations. It was enough just to be with him, to share these quiet, intimate moments under the stars.

And for now, that was all you needed.

The morning sun filtered gently through the transparent roof of the balcony, casting a soft glow over you and Joel as you lay curled together under the thick blanket. The cool air of the dawn was a stark contrast to the warmth shared between you two. You felt the steady rise and fall of Joel’s breathing behind you, a comforting rhythm that made you feel secure.

You had called your mother last night, fabricating a story about staying over at Emma's place to work on a group project. Your mother, trusting as ever, had accepted your explanation without question. As you lay there, the peaceful silence of the morning was occasionally interrupted by the faint chirping of birds and the distant hum of the city waking up.

In your spooning position, you were nestled snugly against Joel, feeling his strong arms wrapped around you. The sensation was soothing, but as you relaxed, you became aware of something pressing against you—something firm and unmistakably intimate. You realized it was Joel’s growing arousal, a testament to his restraint and the powerful emotions he was holding back.

Joel had been incredibly patient with you, giving you the space to understand your feelings and the nature of your relationship. He had made it clear that he didn’t want to push you into anything you weren’t ready for, especially after the recent emotional turbulence with Jamie. Yet here he was, still responding to your closeness despite his efforts to respect your boundaries.

You could sense the internal struggle Joel was facing. His body betrayed a desire he had been meticulously controlling, striving to honor your readiness rather than his own needs. It was a poignant reminder of his deep care and the complex layers of your relationship.

You gently shifted in his embrace, turning slightly so you could look up at Joel. His features were softened in sleep, and he looked almost serene. There was an undeniable tenderness in the way he rested, the soft lines of his face illuminated by the early morning light. His rugged charm was softened in this moment, and you couldn’t help but admire how peaceful and handsome he looked.

“Honey,” you called softly, nudging him gently.

Joel stirred slowly, his eyes fluttering open. He looked at you, a bit disoriented at first. “Hmm?”

As he fully awakened, he immediately noticed the situation. A flush of realization crossed his face, and he muttered, “Fuck, I didn’t mean for this—”

You cut him off before he could finish. “Joel, I can fix it,” you said firmly, your voice steady.

Joel's eyes widened with a mix of panic and confusion. “No, no, wait. What are you doing?”

“I can fix it,” you repeated, your tone insistent yet gentle.

Joel’s expression shifted to concern. “It’s okay, but you don’t have to do this. I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not ready for.”

You shook your head, trying to reassure him. “It’s okay. I want to.”

Joel’s face softened, and he shook his head slowly. “No, you’re not ready yet, sweetheart.”

“But,” you continued, your voice carrying a hint of determination, “you’re a man, and you’re going to need—right? Don’t you sometimes feel...horny? How do you handle that?”

Joel’s eyes widened at your directness, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite his attempt to remain serious. He looked both surprised and touched by your concern and curiosity. “Well, doll, it’s not always easy, but you learn to manage it. You focus on other things, or you just...take care of yourself.”

You nodded, absorbing his words. “So, it’s like...not something you can just ignore?”

Joel chuckled softly, his voice rough with sleep. “No, it’s part of being human. We all have needs and desires, but it’s about finding a balance, respecting each other’s boundaries.”

You looked thoughtful, your eyes meeting his with a mixture of understanding and curiosity. “So, there’s a time for everything?”

“Exactly,” Joel said, his voice softening. “It’s about finding the right time and the right moment. And right now, it’s important that we both understand and respect where we are.”

You smiled at him, feeling a sense of clarity and comfort in his words. “Thank you for being honest with me, Joel.”

He gave you a gentle smile, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Anytime, doll. We’ll figure this out together. No rush.”

You settled back into his embrace, feeling a profound sense of connection and trust. The conversation had brought a new level of intimacy and understanding between you two, reinforcing the bond you shared.

***

As Joel drove you back, he navigated the familiar streets with a thoughtful expression. The quiet between you was comfortable, punctuated only by the soft hum of the truck. When he finally stopped a few blocks away from your home, he turned to you, his eyes reflecting a mix of warmth and something more profound.

"See you later, doll," he said, his voice gentle. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. It was a tender gesture, full of unspoken promises and affection. You smiled at him, feeling a sense of contentment that you hadn't experienced in a long time.

"See you later, Joel" you replied, your voice soft but filled with emotion.

As Joel’s truck rounded the corner and vanished from view, you felt a mixture of elation and contentment. The previous night had been a rare and comforting escape from the pressures of daily life. The softness of Joel’s embrace and the quiet intimacy of the starlit balcony had left you feeling more at ease than you had in months.

You took a deep breath, savoring the lingering warmth from the night before, and headed inside to prepare for the day. A quick shower was in order to shake off the remnants of sleep and to ready yourself for the dance rehearsal later at the church. The routine of getting ready felt almost meditative, a gentle counterpoint to the excitement and nervousness building inside you.

As Joel pulled up to his house, he felt a rare surge of happiness. The morning sun cast a warm glow on everything, and he couldn’t help but smile at the thought of how things had been lately. He parked the truck and headed inside, the familiar sound of the front door creaking open greeted him with a sense of belonging.

He dropped his keys in the bowl by the door and called out, “Ellie, I’m home!”

From the kitchen, Ellie looked up with a raised eyebrow. “Where the hell have you been?"

Joel’s eyes widened when he saw Tommy sitting at the breakfast table with Ellie. “Oh, Tommy, I didn’t see you there. What are you doing here?”

Tommy glanced up from his plate. “I’m here to pick you up. We have a meeting with clients about a big project. Remember?”

Joel’s heart sank. “Oh shit, I forgot. I’ll be ready in a minute. Just need to change clothes.”

Ellie watched Joel, noting his unusually bright demeanor. “Joel, you okay?”

Joel grabbed a pancake off the plate and took a bite, standing by the counter. “Yeah, I’m good. Why?”

Ellie gave a puzzled look, then shrugged. “Nothing. Just seemed like you’re in a good mood.”

Joel, humming softly to himself, replied, “Just give me ten minutes, okay? I’ll be right out.”

He headed to his room, still humming the tune of “Harvest Moon,” the song that had been playing during his time with you. His steps were lighter, his mood buoyant.

As Joel disappeared into his room, Ellie and Tommy exchanged glances, both intrigued by Joel’s recent behavior.

“Did you see that?” Ellie asked, her tone a mix of disbelief and amusement.

“Yeah,” Tommy said with a chuckle. “He’s definitely different lately. Happier, more upbeat. It’s like he’s come out of a shell.”

Ellie nodded, leaning back in her chair. “I’ve noticed it too. He’s been going to church more, cracking jokes, and just generally being...more alive.”

Tommy took another sip of his coffee, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “Well, good for him. Finally, thank God.”

Ellie leaned forward, her curiosity evident. “Did he tell you anything? Like, did he open up about something that’s made him happier lately, or maybe someone?”

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Ellie leaned in, “Did he ever, you know, confide in you about something? Like what’s made him so... different lately?”

Tommy scratched his chin, thinking back. “Hmm, now that you mention it, I do remember one time he showed up late to work. He had this... I don’t know, a woman’s perfume on him. I teased him about it, you know? I said something like, ‘Hey, look at you, smelling all fancy. Got a date or something?’”

Ellie’s eyes widened. “And? What did he say?”

Tommy chuckled. “He just brushed it off. Said I was imagining things. Tried to act all nonchalant, like it was nothing. But it was pretty clear he’d been somewhere—or with someone.”

Ellie’s curiosity was clearly piqued. “So, he really didn’t say anything more? No hints or anything?”

Tommy sipped his coffee and shook his head. “Nope, not a peep. He’s pretty tight-lipped about his personal life.”

Ellie looked thoughtful for a moment, then her face brightened with a mischievous grin. “I need to know if Joel’s finally dating someone or going out with someone. Because, hell, whoever she is, I don’t want an evil stepmother!”

Tommy chuckled, shaking his head. “Give your old man a break, Ellie. He’s not exactly the type to jump into things without thinking them through.”

Ellie’s expression turned serious. “I’m serious, Tommy! I don’t want a stepmother coming in too quickly. I’m really happy with how things are now—with Joel, you, Maria, and little Luke. It’s been nice.”

Tommy’s smile softened. “I get it. It’s a big change, and no one wants to feel like they’re being rushed into something. But Joel’s been through a lot. If he’s found something that makes him happy, we should be supportive, right?”

Ellie nodded earnestly. “I know. I just want to make sure that whatever happens, it’s for the right reasons. I don’t want anyone coming in and disrupting what we’ve got here.”

Tommy placed a reassuring hand on Ellie’s shoulder. “Well, as long as we’re all here for each other, I think we’ll be okay."

228 notes · View notes

sleepyangelkami · 2 years ago

Note

you totally don’t have to take this into consideration at all but what if in the pastors daughter pt3 there’s ANGST. maybe readers parents find out and try to punish/harm her but ellie comes to the rescue 🫡

PASTORS DAUGHTER III e.williams

☆ WORD COUNT - 8.6K

ELLIE WILLIAMS X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - you have a secret, one only few people could know, what would happen if the preacher found out that his daughter was dating such a dilinquent, or more importantly a girl. ellie williams doesn't hesitate to jump in when she finds you and your parents in your bedroom after your sister let your secret out. some smut at the end because you're all waiting for it.

☆ WARNINGS - innocent reader, smut, angst, violence, fighting, yelling, unpacking heavy homophobia, use of a slur, mentions of blood, physical violence, making out, innocence kink, corruption kink, kina size kink if you squint, fingering and oral (r. recieving), scissoring, kinda sub!reader and dom!ellie, my shitty writing, my also unawareness of anything in a catholic church (i'm literally catholic), intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread

series masterlist

you never kept secrets. when you were young, you did everything in your will to keep your mouth shut but you were a blabbermouth, you couldn't help the words tumbling out from your lips. if someone were to ask you what your deepest darkest secret was, your lips would screw shut because truly, you never did keep secrets. any secrets kept from your parents, were secrets that not even your mind was fully able to comprehend, something you had not yet accepted about yourself.

but this. this was your favourite secret of all time.

it all happened so fast. how ellie once was your sisters best friend, the one in which would call you pretty names, have you a blushing mess before she even glanced sideways at you. and now, she was the same girl pulling you away from the others at school just to kiss you.

kissing. that had to be your favourite part.

call it what you want. some may say that you were so drunk off her kisses because you had never been kissed before, the feeling so foreign however you knew what the problem was, not that it was a problem at all. ellie knew how to kiss, better than anyone else in the world, you guessed. her tongue didn't bother fight for dominance, it slipped in so easily and you let it, you let her explore your mouth as crude sounds fell from your lips. you were drunk off her lips, the way they could kiss you so roughly, having you sitting with your hands placed on her shoulders to keep you up for you had chose kissing the girl over breathing a long time ago. the way she would kiss you so gently when she wished, whether she was leaving you off to class, pretending to brush something off your shoulders as she dipped her head down, a chaste kiss against your lips. you could drown in them, you were sure. in fact, you could drown in anything related to ellie, you'd die a happy woman. ellie williams had single handedly wrapped you around her finger and all it took was a mere kiss. if she had known this, she would have done it a long time ago.

however, it was still but a secret. you acted as though you were mere acquaintances in public, a small smile and a nod. but when she got you alone, god when she got you alone she couldn't help but ravish you. after all, she had been wanting you all day.

though it was a secret, it wasn't just you and ellie who were aware of the relationship. ashley had been over the moon when you had announced it and ever since then she had been asking both you and ellie about every little detail of the relationship. she was a fangirl, and you were her favourite couple. and, of course, joel miller had been made aware almost instantly.

you giggled, seated on your girlfriends bed, fiddling with the weird ball she had just given you. she made it a habit to hand you strange toys and watch your face try to figure out what it was in the most humorous way known to man. you were still getting used to being in a relationship. having a girlfriend. but with ellie, you didn't feel guilty for it didn't feel as if anything was wrong with what you were doing. ellie was an angel despite the devilish image she had created for herself in her mind. "you girls hungry?" you turned to see joel miller standing at the doorway, hand on the door handle as he bent through the crack.

"no, thank you, joel." grinning up at the man who had been only welcoming towards you since the moment you met him. you had already spent too many dinners at his house, however, your parents were dead certain that your choir practice was going amazing.

ellie gave you an amused glance before turning towards her step father. "suit yourself, i'm fucking starving." and of course she dragged you straight towards the kitchen because ellie was simply like that, she couldn't go anywhere without you, even in her own house. joel would only grin at you both, shaking his head as he looked down at the bread he was buttering. you were good for ellie, he deemed from the very first second he had been introduced to you, of course you and ellie weren't a 'thing' then, however, he could see right through the girl he knew something had to have been going on. he liked how ellie's days seemed brighter, how she seemed to be getting less slips from school, how she seemed to be doing her homework, that was one he was sure he'd never see again. he adored how sweet you were, always offering to clean up after you all, you had even cooked one of the days when joel had challenged your amazing cooking skills, you brought cookies over whenever you made them at home, you did seemingly anything to make his daughter smile, that was enough. and although he adored you, along with your older sister ashley l/n, he couldn't get over his distaste of your parents, one of which he had made quite apparent to you. he, of course, swore to keep your relationship a secret for he knew mr. l/n and he knew that he'd want you nowhere near that household, along with your mother who seemed to become witchier everytime he glanced at her. joel had come to grow quite very fond of you and when he saw how upset you could be with your parents, how you'd plant a smile on your lips and say 'oh it's fine' as ellie explained the situation, however, your eyes glassing over. when he saw how upset you were, his loathing grew for the nasty couple. he'd let you move in with them in a heartbeat, but he had grew to know you, and he knew you wouldn't wish your parents to be upset, so you simply brushed it off and continued with the constant abuse.

joel was always more than happy to let ellie use the truck on date nights too. it was a busted up, rusty red truck, whenever you glanced at it, joel always added "a truck that has been loved, y/n, adored even." insecurely, you might add. but you never cared, in fact, you had grown to love the truck.

of course, ellie always had to park at least a block away from your house, it would look too sketchy to walk in at the same time as you did. you'd enter, smiling and telling your parents that choir practice was, as usual, quiet but extremely interesting. ellie'd wait for at least ten minutes after that, then she'd enter with an eye roll from your parents as she greeted ashley, two screw ups, that was all they saw. and on those nights, you and ellie would try not to look at one another during dinner, to make sure it wasn't too obvious, of course.

ellie williams was a dream, a secret one that you closed off from the world. your teachers didn't know, your friends didn't know and most importantly, your parents didn't know.

princess i think it's very rude that you always come to see ash and not me, actually.

els would you rather me rat you out to joseph and mary?

you rolled your eyes at the message, her referring to your parents as such names.

princess no thanks but you should definitely come into my room with ash and watch a movie :D

els I'll do my best to convince the wicked witch of the west

princess eeeeeek thank youuuu

els you owe me, baby

princess psh watever now stop texting 'n driving

you grinned down at your cellphone before placing it flat down on your drawer, if only you didn't, perhaps you would have been able to see the many notifications that popped up from your sister, frantic. pushing the covers off, you stood from your bed and towards your wardrobe. you wanted to look somewhat presentable for tonight, you wanted to be pretty for ellie, there was simply no other reason to be rooting through your clothes at such an hour.

you pulled out an old, large, t-shirt. to be exact, ellie's t-shirt, the one in which you were gifted the before day that she had kissed you. you and ellie hadn't been together for a very long time, however, you were upmost embarrassed looking back at how much you shoved her away, fear eating away at you. it was shameful, how scared you were to let her in but you thanked every star in the galaxy that you came to your senses before it was too late.

you dressed in a simple baby pink long sleeved top and a grey sweatpants, after all, you didn't want to look like you were trying too hard. you didn't want to think about it too much, after all, you were sure that ellie wouldn't truly care to so much as look at what you were wearing. the thought was stupid, that the shirt you wore, or the way you fixed your hair had anything to do with your relationship, however, that didn't change the fact that you sat in front of your mirror and attempted to matt down the cows lick of the left side of your hair, teeth tugging at your lip in concentration.

you never wore make up, didn't even think about it, but you did when with ellie, you wondered if she truly liked the way you looked or if she just thought better not to mention it. nevertheless, everytime she hummed and called you 'pretty girl' those thoughts seemed to leave your mind in an instant.

your door bursting open caused your eyes to shift from the mirror, hairbrush caught between your teeth and hands on the top of your head. ashley was close to frantic, hands in the air, the look on her face had your own contorting to concern. "ash? what's wrong?" setting the hairbrush down and walking closer, wondering what on earth had been wrong with your sister.

her and your parents were out that evening with some college meeting. the thought of your sister moving had your heart wrenching. "i— i'm sorry, y/n." the closer you got, you could see the way her eyes were glossed over. before you could open your mouth, she was blubbering again. "it was an accident, it just came out and— oh my god." her hands pulling at her hair. "i'm sorry, im so so sorry."

you walked closer to her, confused as to what she was apologising for. by now, you stood directly in front of her. grabbing her hands softly, you pulled them down to view her face properly, it seemed as though her mind had been stuck on this for a while. this certainly wasn't her first set of tears. "hey, i'm not mad." of course you weren't, you didn't know what happened. "tell me what happened, i promise i won't be mad."

but your sister merely choked out half a sob as she heard the front door slam shut. your parents were home. "you're gonna hate me." a mere whisper, as if a warning. before you knew it, your parents were at your bedroom door, up the stairs in mere seconds. your father stood, a menacing look etched to his face. his brows were contorted into a heavy frown and his lips pursed, your mother, in tears, stood by his side with her arms crossed. you, baffled, looked between ashley and your parents, two of which had never looked so... angry. sure, they had looked at ashley like this, at non-blievers like this but never was it directed at you. "y/n/n, they know."

your eyes shifted between your parents and your sister again, heart stuttering. whatever they knew, it wouldn't be too bad, surely it couldn't. they couldn't know about ellie, they couldn't. you did everything in your power to assure that they didn't find out. the only people that knew was you, ellie, joel... ashley. "know what?" it came out feeble, small, as if you were a glass ready to shatter at any given moment.

"we know." your mothers strong voice rang out through the room and the moment it did, you realised. everything was so fucked.

teary eyed, fear stricken, your mouth opened and closed, turning towards your sister who was biting her nail, her own eyes glassy and apologetic. you ripped your eyes away from her instantly, you couldn't look at her. your heart dropped to your stomach, everything inside you twist. that familiar knot came back, the very one that had left the moment your lips fell to ellie williams' the second time, it was back and oh how it had multiplied. this was your secret, your only secret. why couldn't it just stay like that.

"so it is true then?" your father spoke as he abandoned your mothers side, walking right into the room. "you're one of them." he spat the word out like venom. you stayed silent, taken aback as you stared at them in pure horror, the very thing you had never wished to happen, happened. your body stood frozen still, mind frozen in time, too. "no." he spoke, shaking his head at you. and suddenly... he looked at you the very way you did everything in the world to avoid. he looked at you like you were a monster. "no daughter of mine would behave this way." looking you up and down like filth. "you are not my daughter."

you blinked back the first tear. you knew the minute it began... it would never end. "I— i am." you stressed, voice breaking as you looked at the man you loved with the most pleading expression you had ever had. "it's still same me, i'm not any different than i was before, you have to listen to me. i tried to fight it, i did!" and suddenly, you couldn't stop the waterworks. "daddy, plea-"

"it was those friends." your mother interrupted, stepping so much closer than your father willed. "i told you. I told you that you would ruin everything!" your mother had never been the forgiving type. "look where you are now! what you did, what you have destroyed!" and your eyes pleaded with your father who turned his nose down at you, he wouldn't look at you. "do you know what this will do to your father? to you? to us?" and her own voice broke, as if anything was hurting her. they'd never understand how hard you tried. how much you wished to not be this way but it didn't work, it never did. "why are you doing this? is it to make a stand against us? to rebel against your parents because you're fed up of going to choir?!" you mumbled something beneath your breath. "you better speak up before i-"

"you don't get it." frantic hands pushing at your hair. for the first time in your life, you spoke against your parents, not for them. "i tried— i really tried to get rid of everything, the feelings, the thoughts but i just-" you sniffled and wiped your sleeve against your nose. "i finally, for once in my life figured out who i was and i don't know what i was expecting..." turning your head away from them. but you knew better, how every were you supposed to get it out turning away. so you turned back, eyes burning into your mothers. "i suppose i guessed that you and him would finally take a second— just a second to stop being so focused on yourselves and understand where i'm coming from, understand me!"

your mother locked her jaw. "you think we're selfish, is that it?!" your father yelled, turning back to you. "I have done this, all of this for you!" hands flailing in the air causing you to flinch.

"no you didn't!" no one in the room seemed to hear ellie's truck pull up, nor hear the door open. "you did it for you because it's always you, you, you! maybe if you took a day off to look around you might realise that ashley's done a better job at raising me than either of you have!" and as angry as you were at the girl, you couldn't deny that ashley was a true guardian, they were not. "and maybe you'd realise that i'm not going to change." you stood your ground, as much as your voice wavered and your hands shook, you spoke, despite the tears. "okay? I'm gay." that was the first time you had ever spoken the real sentence. "i— i'm gay and i always have been! and maybe if either of you took your nose out of a bible and i don't know- at least tried to understand you'd realise that it's not a choice!"

your mother shook her head at you. "i don't care what the internet says. god doesn't listen to your kind's stupid excuses." your kind. as if you were some kind of an animal.

"uh... what's going on?" oh god no. there stood ellie williams in all her glory, jacket covered in rain and her boots beginning to soak your carpet, you didn't much care because by the sounds of it, you weren't going to be living here by tomorrow.

everyone whipped around to see ellie, an umberella in her hands yet soaking wet, sometimes you wondered if you truly were dating an idiot. "you." your father shot towards her. "you stay the hell away from my daughter!"

she gave him a raised eyebrow, however, she didn't flinch back. "which one? gotta be more specific man-" confused as ever.

"this is it, y/n." your mother turned back to you. "this is who you're turning your back on your life for, who you're turning your back on your family for." ellie's brows furrowed in confusion until finally, they relaxed in shock. oh. "i'm giving you one last chance to make this right."

it seemed as though everyone in the room was watching you. "turn back to the light, y/n." your father spoke as if it were some evil rooted inside of you. "turn to god and he'll wash away all of your sins. we can forget about this."

and you looked between your parents, both their faces as they waited patiently for you to cry out and hug them. you'd state that it was all merely for attention or lack of which you had gotten. you wanted to lash out, rebel against them because that was simply what teenage girls do and you knew the only way to hurt them was this. but it didn't come. your eyes glanced back to ellie williams, standing as dishevelled as ever before and she was staring right at you, pretty emerald eyes boring into your own. she didn't look scared, nor did she appear any bit concerned for your answer because she knew you better than you knew yourself, she knew what your answer would be before it even came out of your mouth. and yet, she knew you would chose her, between every galaxy in the universe, constellations in the sky, and yet, you still managed to shock her.

"i love her."

your mother and father dropped such sympathetic looks and suddenly, you were no longer a l/n, they didn't have that glint in their eyes as they stared back, it turned to pure rage. and yet ashley's eyes had softened on your frame, ellie's eyes could only go wide. you... loved her? you loved her too. she was frozen in time, her hands stuck to her side and her umbrella nearly slipped from her fingers. she stared at you and you stared right back at your parents, eyes nowhere near hers and yet even so she felt as though you were talking to her, communicating to her through your crystal fallen tears.

your mother breathed a sigh of pure fury. "you disgust me." and you knew she meant it, with every single bone in her body. but as much as you knew she meant it, you never would have thought she'd do what she did next. you didn't think it was so much as a possibility for her to bring a hand up like she did. suddenly, you felt a pang, you could feel your nose drip almost the same time that her hand came in contact with your face. you expected silence, one in which you could just stare at her, your mother, your supposed protector in which hit you because of what? she couldn't accept the fact that you were happy. truth be told, you were sure you and ellie would be happier than she and your father ever were.

the silence never came.

commotion enveloped the bedroom. "fucking hit her again!" ellie was in your mothers face before you were out of it. ashley swooped in then, grabbing a hold of you as you cradled the side of your face, blood from your nose dripping down your hand. "no, seriously!" as much as your father attempted to push ellie away, she wasn't scared, she was nearly as tall as him for bloody sake. "fucking try it!"

your mother was just as angry as she. "get out of my way, faggot." despite the tears, your eyes blew wide, where did she even hear such a word?

you didn't get to hear much more of their conversation for before your mother could so much as take a breath, ellie's fist connected with her face. you attempted to push yourself further, ashley could only hold you back as tears stung at the rim of your eyes.

this was all of your fault.

ellie didn't swing once, nor did she swing twice, she punched the woman at least three times before your father interfered. he didn't use violence, why would he? he was a man of god. "fucking pussies." ellie muttered as your mother and father stood off, your mother completely sobbing now, as you were, silently as you could in your sisters arms.

if only you didn't kiss her. if only you didn't allow yourself the satisfaction. if only you listened to that instinct that told you to run away that night. but you didn't want to run from ellie, no, if you could do anything different you would have run further, out of that room, that house, you could be in a different state by they so much as notice you had left.

your father stood off to the side, cradling your mother in his arms. "get out of my house." staring at ellie who merely glared right to him, not a shot of fear in her eyes. "now."

she scoffed, locking her jaw as she turned her head. "c'mon, sweetheart." eyes pointed at you. your lip was tucked beneath your teeth as ashley let her arms fall from around you.

"she won't go with you." your father scoffed back. "she's my daughter." if only he knew how little that meant after that night. ellie williams didn't utter a word, she simply held her hand out from behind her, eyes locked with your fathers. so you did what you had longed to do for so long. hesitantly, you stepped forward and stretched your hand out, it fell into hers. instantly, she locked your fingers together, a proud grin on her lips as she looked right back at your horrified dad. "by the holy bible, you will regret this, y/n."

"no, i don't think she will." ellie tsked and like that, she got you right out of that bedroom.

you didn't remember when you stopped crying that night. what you did know, however, was that it was not down the stairs or when you got in the truck or when ellie had sat you on the bed after assuring you that joel had a night shift. "ellie th-they hate me." you blubbered as the girl attempted to wipe your nose with a damp cloth, it was proving difficult with the tears mixing with the blood and the dried blood that had stuck to your pretty skin. you hated crying, you hated being vulnerable and you did not have any intentions of doing so in front of the girl you adored so dearly and yet here you were, unable to stop the tears from flowing.

"they don't hate you, sweet girl." doing her best to keep your face still as the damp cloth wove it's way around your skin. "they're just.. shocked is all." funny, she didn't think she'd hit a grown woman three times for merely being shocked. she was almost done with your face, still trying to get the bits of dried blood around your left cheek off.

you shook your head, still crying. "they hate me, they hate you. els 'm so sorry." ellie dropped the cloth onto the floor beneath her.

"hey, hey, look at me." she grabbed your face between her hands. "none of this is your fault." you tried to look away, she wasn't letting that happen any time soon. "it's not your fault they're close minded cunts. they can go— i don't know fuck the three wise men or something." this sprouted the quietest, lovelies of giggles from you, small, quiet but enough. ellie grinned, her eyes tracing every perfect imperfection of your skin. "there she is." a dazing smile on her lips as her eyes raked your face.

you sniffed, realising her hands had clapsed around your own. "you're not mad at me?" you questioned oh so quietly.

"mad at you?" she laughed under her breath. "baby, i'd never." she disconnected one hand, you ignored the way only one of hers was enough to cover both of yours. the free hand came to your face, you didn't flinch like before, you relished in it. the way the pads of her fingers traced around your skin, slowly pushing your hair behind your ear. a whisper left her lips. "you're too pretty to be mad at, anyway."

something in the air had shifted.

"els..." as her finger pads danced against your pretty skin. she hummed quietly, entranced by your pretty face. "can you kiss me."

"don't need to tell me twice."

her lips were ecstatic, rough against your soft ones. she captured you in a kiss so blissfully that it sent your face backwards slightly. her hands fell to your thighs as your hands sat on her shoulders. she was on her knees before you, kissing you so roughly as you ignored how hot you suddenly felt. you never kissed someone before ellie but for an inexperienced person or an experienced person, ellie had to be the best kisser in the world. it seemed as though everytime you forgot what to do, she was doing something to make up for it. she kissed you roughly, you sloppily chased her speed. her right hand travelled further up your thigh and softly squeezed. your lips parted and a noise left your lips, ellie took the perfect moment to slip her tongue inside your mouth, allowing it to explore easily as it pushed your own down, not bothering to fight for dominance, she would win anyway.

she picked your hips up slightly, detaching your lips so she could push you further up the bed, she stood before you, you looked up at her with pretty doe eyes. "fuck me." she mumbled beneath her breath before attaching your lips once more. she slowly guided your back to hit the sheets beneath you and continued to kiss roughly at your hips. your hands came up, gathering around her neck while her own fell down to your hips, groping the plush skin of your waist while her teeth came down to softly nip at your bottom lip, tongue soothing down the skin soon after before she returned kissing you. the feeling was so euphoric, so many things happening at once, you didn't have a chance to acknowledge them all at once, too busy focusing on the sudden ache between your legs.

oh no. it was happening again, that funny feeling that always settled in when ellie kissed you too long, when her hands found home on your skin in a somewhat different way than the others. "els..." you breathed out, detaching yourself from the kiss, you looked right up at her with desperate eyes, she knew then and there.

"what's wrong, baby?" as her lips came down to trace across your leg, littering small kisses against the sensitive skin that had your back arching against her and off the mattress.

you breathed out in frustration. "ellie... need you." pulling at her sleeve, she knew exactly what you needed, she could practically see the wet pool already despite the fact she wasn't even looking. "please..."

"please what, angel?" kissing against your neck once more, just beneath your jaw. you made a noise, one of more frustration. one that told her you needed her more than any other gesture or words would have. but she wasn't having it. she wanted to embarrass you, make your cheeks go pink and your eyes flutter the way they did. "be good and use your words and i might..." hands tracing against the bottom of your stomach, so close to where you needed her. "give you a reward, hm?"

you had never had sex before. in fact, you hadn't even thought of how it would happen let alone did you ever think it would be with your sisters best friend. a girl, you may have guessed but ellie williams, never. sure, you could wish but a girl can dream, never did you think it would be reality. there was one thing and one thing alone that you were sure about, however.... "please, ellie, t-touch me."

she moved away from your neck, looking down at you as she positioned herself above you. "you sure this is what you want?" clarifying before you began. "if you're still upset we can just relax, we don't need to do anything you don't want to." and your heart swelled, ellie williams cared about you more than she cared about anyone else in the whole world.

a small smile brushed across your lips. "i want to, ellie." you spoke, in a mere whisper. "I really want to." because it was her and ellie could make you comfortable enough to jump off the earth if she wanted to. she made you feel so warm... so loved, however, she also had this special trick where she made your panties wetter than anyone before.

"in that case." chuckling as she bent down to place another kiss against your lip, this one so much more passionate, not as rough. she kissed you again and again while her hands managed to ease around your skin once more, suddenly her fingers and large hands were tracing every inch of you, you almost held your breath. she soothed your shirt up a little, hands falling onto your stomach as she pushed her hands around, rubbing your sides up and down as you shivered into her touch. "you ever touched yourself, angel?" angel, a quite contrasting name to such an event. your face grew hot at the question, lips parting and closing once more with a small huff, the situation much too shameful. "don't go shy on me now, sweetheart." she pushed your chin forward, eyes locking into your own with lips brushing against one anothers. you breathed heavily, eyes boring into her pretty green irises and tracing her freckles that littered across her smooth skin. you made a certain hum with a nod, a desperate one as your back arched off the mattress. "yeah?" you whimpered as her lips came down to soothe your neck, pressing sloppy kisses across the delicate skin. "you ever came, baby?" a fragile whisper as the image of you in your bedroom, pretty legs parted with your hand between them as you desperately tried to get off. of course, how would you even know how to. her long fingers traced your skin, she had pushed your sweatpants down ever so slightly so that she was just above where you needed her. you whined into her touch, pushing yourself down the bed further with a small shake of your head, admittedly embarrassed. "no?" an almost teasing smirk in her face. of course you didn't know how to tease yourself, not properly at least. you were so fucking innocent and oh how ellie couldn't wait to taint you.

"ellie." it was a whisper, almost a warning so she would stop teasing you. endless nights, you had your hand down between your legs, hoping to any saint above that no one would walk in. you never quite reached that euphoric feeling the books explained.

"i know, angel, i know." you were far from an angel, you deemed. "let's get this off, hmm?" fingers slowly trailing up and down your pant leg. you nodded, breathlessly and panting as the girl gripped the waistband between her fingers. she waited a moment, watching your desperate face whither once more before slowly, dragging it down your legs with ease.

her eyes never left your body as the material grouped up in her hands, she tossed it somewhere then, she wasn't really looking but the silence that followed without a clatter seemed to be good news. her eyes fell, sitting on your pretty white cotton panties. a smirk fell across her face, of course they were. your breath caught in your throat, feeling the cold air nipping at your bare yet soft legs. ellie took the chance to place sloppy kisses against your stomach, her hands toying with the silky flesh of your legs. your back arched.

but before the girl could get to the place you needed her the most, you whined out, grabbing her shoulders. she stopped in an instant, coming back up to your face. " 's wrong, baby?" and you almost whimpered at the name, but you controlled yourself... for now.

your grasped at her sleeves, pushing yourself closer to her. "your turn." you mumbled, looking up at her with those hazy doe eyes, she smirked right at you. bending down, she placed three kisses against your lips before sitting herself up slightly, pushing her arms through the holes of her t shirt, you watched in awe as she tossed it somewhere in the room. your eyes immediately fell to her chest, ignoring the growing pit in your stomach. while in awe, she reached down and kissed your dazy state away. tugging at your own long sleeved top, she tossed it somewhere with the pile of clothes too, all sitting together rather neatly, considering she threw them when she wasn't looking. white bra, how cute.

"better?" she mumbled seductively against your lips, hands moving up to cup your covered breasts, palming her hands over them.

"better." you whispered, trying to keep every sound you possibly could contained and yet it proved to work to no avail as a small whimper fell from your lips.

she kissed down your stomach once more, slowly, excruciatingly so. hot, sloppy, open mouth kisses against every fraction of your skin. your back arched off the mattress, hands steady on the girls shoulder. no bra. of course she was wearing no bra. her lips trailed further down your stomach, past your belly button and only did they stop right above your pretty panties. " 'm gonna take 'em off." you didn't respond with yes but a mere whimper and you did what you simply couldn't control. bucking your hips up, almost hitting your core off the girls face. she grinned at what she had created, a rather damp spot soaking through your panties. "so fuckin' eager." you assumed she would grab your panties, toss them somewhere foreign like she did so many times before. you assumed wrong.

her teeth slightly scratched against your hip bone as they hooked around the side of your panties. slowly, she dragged the panties down with her mouth with little to no effort, sliding them smoothly along your legs. you glanced down, out of breath already. she had her eyes closed and it looked as though she were trying not to get too caught up in the situation, as if she were holding herself back. she pooled them at your feet then grabbed them with her slim fingers. you watched as she pocketed them in the back of her jeans and yet you said nothing, just watched as she grinned down at you, menacing face contorted into an almost evil grin.

but she couldn't look at you, not yet, before she let what she didn't want... unfinished. "before i do anything..." she mumbled, hand coming towards your chest. you gasped as you felt her pull your pretty silver cross from your neck, she didn't pocket that, nor did she toss it away, she simply placed it delicately on the desk beside her. who did she care, the clasp was surely broken anyway. maybe it was just a silly souvenir. you looked up at her, eyes barely blown wide. "what? y'don't need it no more, pretty girl." because the cross was a symbol of purity and you were anything but pure now. and the way your puffy lips stretched out, the way your eyes dazily glanced up at her as if she were made of diamonds. she knew it was official. she had corrupted you, molded you to her own liking.

you gasped at the sudden sensation of her hand cupping your dripping cunt. she almost laughed at you. "haven't even touched you yet, baby." you bucked your hips into her hand, oh how you wanted her to touch you. "all f'me?"

you nodded, panting like a lap dog. "please, els." whimpering once more. and who was ellie to deny such a request? you gasped out, breath stuttering as her hands parted your legs and one fell on your cunt. she rubbed two fingers against your pretty pink nub, watching as you reacted so... verbally. the way you moaned at the way she simply drew circles on your clit had herself almost grinding in her jeans. while she controlled herself, she simply couldn't stop by how reactive you were, you were in much too deep now.

fingers fell down to your hole, collecting your juices on her fingers. she groaned as she pressed her lips to your neck, anything to distract herself from practically fucking you then and there. she shoved one finger in, watching as you jumped at the foreign feeling. you had rubbed your clit before, of course, but never had you inserted a finger into yourself. and even if you did, nothing could have compared yourself for her slim, long fingers.

you moaned out. "oh... ellie." eyes squeezing shut as she began to move. she pumped her finger in and out, watching as you moved your body with it, practically fucking yourself with her finger. a knot made it's way to your tightening stomach. for good measure, she didn't add another finger.

she added two.

the feeling of her stretching you out had your back arching and mewls falling from your pretty lips while ellie attacked your neck with kisses. she pumped her fingers in and out of you, watching as you wriggled in her grasp, grinding yourself off her fingers. she didn't say anything, simply kissing your neck and allowing you to get off on her fingers. there would be more time to tease you in the future. besides, she'd be lying if she said she didn't adore the sounds leaving your lips and the way the bed creaked with the movements of ellie shoving her fingers in and out of you.

"feeling desperate, hm?" as she kissed up your jawline. you were sure, this was the euphoric feeling they explained. "want me to make you cum, sweetheart?" and what were you to say? deny yourself of the pleasure? certainly not. relish in it? absolutely.

"mmph." whining into her mouth as she captured your lips, tongue slipping into your mouth. "please ellie." you could have screamed for her then and there. "please ellie, make me cum!" her big body against your tiny one, she couldn't help but fawn.

"your wish is my command, princess." something you never would have guessed could be so hot. she moved her lips from your face and down your body. you moaned out at the feeling of her fingers, still fucking you senseless as your hands moved from her shoulder to her head. she positioned her face right in line with your core. you suddenly felt nervous but that feeling of her against your cunt was just so much more overpowering.

she didn't give you so much as a warning as her tongue flattened out against your clit, her fingers never stopping their fast pace. "oh!" your legs had spread with ease, sitting up bent at the knees with your socks sitting at either side of ellie's head, your back arched, hands on the back of her head while your own fell into the cushions behind you. eyes screwing shut, her pretty mouth working so perfectly on you.

mewls. whimpers. ellie could have come from the sound alone. they were nothing short of pornographic. how could she not smirk against your core as she lapped you up, holding you still with her free hand. she was making you make these sounds. she was making you squirm as you did. she made that knot in your stomach tighten.

your chest quickened its fast paces. "ellie— ellie, i'm gonna-" you were going to come. you had never reached anywhere close to that and here ellie was, effortlessly making you reach a hundred.

she parted her mouth from your clit. " 's okay, baby, let it out." and you assumed she'd slow down. once again, you assumed wrong. pouncing forward, she began licking and lapping your tongue against your clit once more, watching as you squirmed against here, almost screaming. it was when her name ripped from your throat that she knew you were so close. so close that she could feel your walls clenching around her fingers. she didn't stop, nor did she slow down as she awaited the arrival in which she had dreamt of the day she met you.

"oh god, oh god!" you hoped god was nowhere near that bedroom. "ellie!" and that was the last thing ellie heard before she felt you completely collapse around her. she felt white, hot liquid gush out from your pussy all over her fingers. she could taste you. your body jerked, the most pornographic mewls falling from your lips as you bucked your hips over and over again. she continued to fuck you through your high, tongue doing anything it could to pick up all your juices. the salty taste had her wanting more.

she didn't stop until your body was practically vibrating.

ellie came back up to meet your face which was embarrassed and flushed. sweat caused your hair to stick to your forehead and your chest moved up and down rapidly due to your irregular breathing pattern. pretty plush lips parted as you panted heavily. her breathing had picked up too, eyes grazing over your pretty skin as she lifted her fingers to her mouth, sucking off your juices. you watched entranced, innocent eyes blown wide. you wanted to shy away, suddenly beyond embarrassed as the euphoric feeling began to fade away. but you didn't, your eyes were too focused on the pretty girl in front of you. "you okay to keep going?" she breathed heavily as your head fell deeper into the pillows beneath you. there was more? you nodded your head rapidly, head moving up in an instant to lock your lips to ellie's, she got the hint almost instantly. you were ready, you were beyond ready.

the adrenaline sat in your chest, burrowing there as your lips moved at seemingly the same pace as ellie's, though you wouldn't deny the fact that she was leading the pathway, you could only sloppily follow. your eyes a little heavier, you assumed it was that euphoric feeling taking a toll on you however by the way ellie was beginning to unbotton her jeans, you could only assume that whatever was to happen next was going to please her just as much as it did you the first time and boy did you want that, desperately.

she was above you, kissing your lips roughly as her hands fiddled with the buttons and zipper of her jeans, rough material sliding down her legs with a little less ease than your own. however, she didn't waste a second to toss them into the pile of your discarded clothes from before. dressed in black boxers, you couldn't help but gawk at her but she didn't allow it too long for in seconds she was desperately raking them off her body, eagerly pushing the material off her body so she could feel you again.

you made a noise into her mouth, her kisses making your face hot, cheeks pink and mind beyond ditsy. as soon as she was bare, all fabrics discarded, she had pushed at your knees, sending them up so you were practically making a bridge with them. "fucking hell." a whisper beneath her breath as she looked at your already soaked pussy in your own juices from before. she did that. she couldn't help but grin in pride at your abused cunt. her hands fell to yours, pushing them down against the mattress as her larger ones cupped your smaller ones, holding you in place so easily. you were like her very own doll and oh how she loved playing with you. you watched as she hooked a leg past your waist, knee planting itself on the other side of the bed from you. you swallowed thickly and watched her in anticipation. you had never done something like this before. it was safe to say that you're stomach was doing flips, that your heart rate sped as fast as it ever had before but you couldn't deny the sole comfort her big hands brought, almost grounding you.

she didn't take another breath, state another word, before planting herself right on top of you.

her pussy fell on yours, she let out a groan at the feeling, sudden relief washing over her. you whined at the contact, holding her hands tighter if even possible. she bent her body towards you, hands still clasped together as she slowly rolled her hips against your own. you whimpered at the feeling of her clit bumping off your own. "ellie." you all but mewled. "f-feels so good." as she continued to slowly roll her hips, grinding down onto your pretty cunt.

ellie was in no mind to stop, eyes closed and her throat held many sounds of her own. "fuck." trying to do everything in her will to not take it to the extreme, it was your first time, she wanted to be gentle. "tryin' not to push it, sweetheart." alerting you of how badly she wanted to fuck you senseless.

you breathed heavily, the feeling of her pussy on your abused one so stimulating. "i can— i can take it." pretty doe eyes looking up at her as if you wanted nothing more than for her to feel good. and you did, you'd do anything to make sure she felt as good as you, it would be almost monsterous to deprive anyone of this euphoric feeling, the one in which had your legs trembling and lip wobbling as you tried to contain your sounds, ignoring the lump in your throat. "please, els." you whimpered, grinding your own hips against her, she let out a grunt, holding your hands tighter. "want you to."

she didn't need to be told twice.

she pushed her hips up and down, heavily and swiftly as she felt your pretty cunt against your own.

she practically got drunk off of your noises. holding you close, she never stopped her agonising pace as she even began pushing her hips to the side, rarely yet every time it had a new sound coming from your lips. she wondered just how many sounds she could make you make.

rutting her pussy roughly against yours, she listened to the crude squelching sounds from your wetness mixing with her own. "yeah." she breathed, lips close to your own as she held your hands so hard you couldn't feel them anymore. the feeling was too elating to move your mind from. your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of your stomach tightening again. "takin' me so well, sweetheart." and she meant it so much. she allowed her own eyes to close as she never stopped her pace. rubbing herself against you so carelessly and sloppy, she could feel her high coming on just as it had the many nights ellie imagined this very moment. hips roughly shoving your own down, you couldn't help but move with her as she fucked you senseless.

"ellie!" you whined, back arching off the bed. her sweaty forehead was pressed against your own. she knew that tone, the very one you had used before, the very one she imagined so many times.

she breathed out a huff, eyes still closed. "me too." and the knot was so close to untangling, she all but swallowed back her noises. opening her eyes she roughly shot her face forward, lips latching to yours. you desperately kissed her back as she began to rut her hips so eagerly.

you would have screamed if it weren't for her lips on your own, maybe that was why she had done it, to silence you or maybe to silence herself. whatever the case, you were much too wrapped up in your own world to so much as consider it. you felt your stomach finally give out as ellie's did almost simultaneously. her juices mixed with your own, like to complimented chemicals in a science fair. with her lips on yours, she groaned deeply while you whimpered, your hips slowly stopped grinding to her own and she too slowed her rutting. noises falling between one another, you could barely breathe. her lips were suffocating you and you would have died happily there and then if you could have.

two damp cloths and a toilet use later, you sat drowsy in ellie williams bed. your head was limp against the crook of her neck as she laid with you in her arms. after you had cleaned up, she offered you some of her clothes, stating she'd tell joel everything in the morning, claiming he'd be more than happy to let you crash because apparently 'he'd rather you as a daughter anyway'. you brushed her off but thanked her heavily, kisses falling around her freckles as she laughed at your giggly yet drowsy state. it was only seconds later that you ended in the predicament that you did, arms wrapped around her loosely while her own squeezed you close.

thoughts of that night swam through ellie's head. she wondered how fast that mood had changed, from crying with a damp cloth on your face to almost brought to tears by ellie williams' pussy. she smirked to herself before glancing over at the broken silver chain that sat on her desk, you hadn't even mentioned it.

the girl turned back to you, your eyes were closed and your breathing was slow, cheeks pink and lips plush. if she didn't know any better, she'd think you were asleep. "baby?" you hummed, quietly yet barely heard, you were too far deep in sleep, ellie wasn't even sure if you'd register her words, she didn't care, she needed them out. "i love you too."

crazy to think a little lust for the pastors daughter led her well... here.

main masterlist/ellie's masterlist

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