#joel miller hot

[alien-magnolia]

Daddy Issues - Joel Miller x Hyperfem!reader

Fic description: 18+ mdni. pre!outbreak dom!joel miller x hyperfeminine subby!fem!reader, major size!kink, age gap (Joel in his early 40’s, reader in early 20’s) slow burn at first, daddy issues, daddy!kink, unprotected sex, lil bit of corruption/innocence kink + slight breeding kink. 2.4K words.

A/n: Will probably write a sequel.

You loved living in your quaint little suburb of Austin, Texas. You lived with your dad, and only your dad. He wasn’t too nice, though, yet at least your house was. You just didn’t have a good relationship with him. He didn’t take care of you, didn’t praise you, never really cared for anything you’d do. Yet, you loved your little suburb. The weather was beautiful, especially in early summer, late May. It was on May 11th that your new neighbor moved in. The moving truck spent a few days parked in the driveway, the sun beating down on the black asphalt. 

You saw two middle aged men, a pickup truck, a girl around the age of twelve to thirteen with them. You didn’t pay much attention to them  until a few days later, one early morning, around 8am. You were starting the car you and your dad shared, the usual route was off to his work, then off to a day full of classes at the local university. Just to your luck, your new neighbors came out to start their car as well, a sleek pickup truck. Your dad grunts at them, hands on his hips, his usual stance (which did annoy the hell out of you…) 

The two men began to walk across the driveway, most likely to say hello. The one with the black hair was Tommy. Him and your dad had hit it off, and were off to the side viewing the tools in the neighbor’s trunk. You said hello to the girl in the back of the car as well, her name was Sarah. The other neighbor now rushes out the front door, shouting at Tommy to hurry it up. You take a look at him. He looks right at you. Fuck. He was beautiful, his brown eyes simply pierced through you. You froze.

 “Hey there,” his smooth Texan accent drawled out at you. “Hi,” you reply, shortly and abruptly. “I’m Joel. That there’s Tommy. We just moved in next door,” he says, his voice gruff yet his tone gentle, as if to not spook you. He was intimidating — you were barely over five feet tall. He was probably six, and then some. You reply back, telling him your name, and then pointing out your dad, who was still talking to Tommy. Joel quickly walked over to them, and exchanged pleasantries with your dad. The group then got into the pickup truck, yet not before giving you another look when he left. You stood there for a bit, mulling over the interaction in your head, until your dad nudges you to snap out of it. You think about it for the rest of the day, during your lecture, during the drive home. Joel made you feel a certain way. He looked so big, so strong. You saw how nicely he treated his daughter. That did something to you.

A few months later   -

Your father and Tommy had gotten on pretty well. They’d spend a lot of time together. Him and Joel — not so much. He’d always leave you with Joel as he went to the garage with Tommy. At first, it was awkward. His daughter, Sarah would sometimes be with the two of you, and you’d all watch a movie. It was just as awkward with her, and without. 

One day however, the two of you started talking. Your dad was in the garage with Tommy as usual, you were on the couch with Joel. It was an incredibly hot summer day, and you were wearing a white top and a very short, pink miniskirt. You folded your hands over your lap as you saw Joel’s eyes shamelessly rake over you.

During your conversation with him, you found out more about his job as a contractor, he told you what he would do on a day to day basis. You told him about college, your social life, the both of you even shared an interest in music. It was all fine, until he asked you if you had a boyfriend. 

“Um. Actually, no. I don’t,” you meekly reply to him. “Don’t believe that’s true, darlin.’ I’m sure a pretty girl like you has peaked at least a few guy’s interests,” he replies. God, that voice. It was going to kill you one day. You shake your head, letting him know that it’s true. He scoffs, and then freezes. “Shit. I’m sorry. You’re young. Shouldn’t prey on you like that, darlin.’ You should just go home,” he murmurs, his voice quiet, he was most likely embarrassed. What the hell was he doing? He couldn’t be with the neighbor’s daughter, and he was twice her age. 

“Umm. Joel,” your dainty, gel manicured hand grabs his wrist, effectively stopping him in his tracks. He turns around to meet your doe eyes. “Don’t apologize. I feel the same way.” His face lights up, taking your hand in his. You feel his other hand cup your cheek, engulfing your entire cheek in the palm of his hand. “I’m glad, darlin.’ You always look so fuckin’ sweet, so adorable,” he smirks. You look up at him, and before you knew it, your lips met his.

His kiss is soft, gentle, as if he’s scared to hurt you. He tasted like a hint of tobacco, you feel his stubble against your cheek. His kiss then gets harsher, his large body cornering yours against the wall. He stops for a bit, looking out the window, worriedly. You ask him what had him so concerned. “Looks like my brother and your dad left. Wouldn’t want your daddy findin’ out that his little girl is gettin’ fucked by the neighbor, huh?” You moan at his comment, he chuckles. “I’m probably even older than your dad, huh, sweetheart?,” he taunts, his soft lips leaving kisses over your cheek, trailing down to kiss at your neck for a bit. 

“Y-yes. Joel. Please…,” you whine out, desperate for more of anything from the man. You feel his broad chest against yours, his hands now tightly gripping your hips, squeezing them, exploring your body. Your hands did the same, now wrapped around his neck. He lifts you up, carrying you up the stairs, into his room. His biceps strain against your small arms, God — how you wanted those strong arms around you, holding you!!

He puts you down onto his bed, alongside himself , pulling you into his lap, gazing at you hungrily. “Look at you, darlin.’ You’re a fuckin’ dream, I swear. Got a sweet lil’ thing like you, all to my fuckin’ self.” You shudder at his words, blushing. “Want to be yours, Joel. Would want that so bad,” you meekly murmur to him. He chuckled again. “So shy f’ me, huh?,” he says to you, bringing you in for another, stronger kiss. You run your hands through his hair as he pushes you down into the bed, his body caging you close to him. His large biceps rest by your head, as his veiny hands squeeze and knead at your chest. “Perfect tits you got, sugar. Lemme see ‘em.” He helps you pull off his shirt, and you do the same. His large hands fit so perfectly over your tits, he is just entranced by you. 

You feel his hand slide down your torso, your pink nails coming up to grasp at his wide, hairy forearm. You gasp in shock as you feel two calloused fingers slip in between your folds, gently massaging your clit. Fuck. So gently. You were losing it. “Joel. Joel. I — um,” you try to express something to him, your words were failing you. He was calm and collected as ever, his dark eyes burning through you, as he watched you come undone for him, your hand coming up to cup his face as to ask for another kiss, his soft, thick lips on yours, his nose on your cheek, his gruff grunts that drove you insane. 

“Ready? Ever had, um, ever done this before?,” he asks, stumbling over his words. “No. But I want to. You won’t hurt me,” you reply. “Fuck,” he quietly grunts to himself. “Never even done this before, sweetheart. Don’t worry, I got you, princess. Gonna show you what it means to take your man’s cock. It’s gonna feel good, you’ll see, darlin.’ But you tell me if I hurt you, ‘right?,” he speaks down to you, patronizing but soft. It made you feel cared for, loved. “Yes, daddy.” Shit. It accidentally slipped out. Your scared gaze met his, his eyes only bore into you more and more. 

“What did you just call me?,” he asks, slowly. “Fuck, say it again, darlin.” You giggle, his tongue meeting yours as he pushes into your mouth. “You want me to be your daddy, huh, sweetie? Want me to take care of you, fuck you good?,” his voice having a hint of possessiveness in it. “Y-yes. Daddy. Please…”you beg him at this point, his fingers still working you open. 

“Little cunts so wet f’me already. Think she can take me in? Think so,” he grunts, his fingers leaving your soaked folds as you whine. You feel his soft cockhead slap against your clit for a bit, his veiny, thick cock soaked with precum already. God - it was wide. So wide that you weren’t sure if he’ll fit. 

“S’so big, Joel. Won’t fit…” you moan out. “It’ll fit, baby. Daddy’ll make it fit, don’t you worry your pretty lil’ head ‘bout it, sweetie.”

With that, you feel him slide into you slowly. “Now you tell me if I’m hurtin’ you, ‘kay?” You nod slowly, your face growing redder by the second as his thick shaft slides into you, ever so slowly. You feel his pulsing cock inside you, he grunts as your walls squeeze and milk him for all he’s got. “So fuckin’ tight. First time takin’ this cock, she’s doin’ so well, sugar,” he coos at you, lost in pleasure as you squeeze around him. 

He finally bottoms out, his soft tip hitting your g-spot so perfectly! You whine at him to go deeper, faster, you craved to just be stuffed full of him for as long as you could. His chest hair meets your smooth chest as he presses himself down on you, his full body weight enveloping your tiny body. “Gotta be patient, darlin.’ Gonna give it to ya.” 

You felt him rock into you deeper and deeper, the veins on his cock brushing against your tight tunnel, his balls ever so softly hitting your lips as he rocked in and out of you, his pubic hair meeting yours. The musky scent of his sweat, his biceps bulging next to your neck, his dark brown eyes staring onto your bouncing little body. To him, you were the most beautiful girl he’s ever laid eyes on. He wanted to make sure you knew that. 

“Joel. D-Daddy. Gonna cum. Please, fuck — want it in me!,” you squeal out to him. “In you, sugar? That’s what ya want? For me to knock up a sweet lil’ thing like you? No, no, gotta wait for that, hun,” he tuts at you. “What would your real daddy say if he found out, huh? If he saw his girl all round and heavy, all cause of a man who’s just as old as him?” You moan out in response. “You want that, huh, darlin?’ Wanna be full of me?,” he taunts. 

You nod desperately. He does not listen, and pulls out, but not before giving you a few last, fulfilling thrusts. His cum is splayed out all over your soft tummy, he leans off from on top of you and goes to get a towel to wipe you down. You feel so sleepy, so good, so taken care of as he lays back down onto the bed, his big arms coming to turn you over, so you could lay on the safe haven that is his chest. 

You lay your head down onto him, you hear his slow heartbeat. His gruff voice speaks up. “Didja like that, darlin’? Showed you a good time, didn’t I, sweet thing?” “Y-yes. You really did, Joel. What about my dad, though? Feel like I should get home…,” you nervously trail off. 

“Home? Now? When it’s so dark out? Not safe for you, sugar. You just stay over at mines. I’ll get you a blanket and one of my shirts to sleep in, yeah? We’ll deal with everythin’ else in the mornin.’” You nod, agreeing with him. You rolled over to smell his pillow, god — it smelled just like him, so entrancing. You felt so taken care of as this older man ran around his house to get you a towel, some clean clothes. He treated you so, so, nicely! You felt so safe with him, most importantly. You wanted him to be with you, protect you, make you feel good, like he did now. You smile to yourself as you think about it, interrupted by his entrance into the room. 

“Got one of my shirts for ya, darlin.’ And if you get too hot, you let me know, I’ll turn on the ac for ya,” he gently says, as he walks over to join you back in bed. You smile, and gingerly take one of his shirts to put on. It was so huge on you! He brings you onto his lap, his veiny hand coming over to grasp at your cheek again. “Doin’ ok? Just checkin’, didn’t want to hurt ya too much or anythin.”

“I’m okay, Joel. Don’t worry. I should have spent this time with you earlier,” you confess to him. You loved being around him, especially if he treated you in this way. You didn’t have to worry about a thing, as long as he was there with you. You had a feeling that you weren’t just any girl to him. 

Maybe you were right. Joel hasn’t felt about anyone like this in years, until the first time he saw you, your pink miniskirt, sparkly necklaces and all, he knew he had to have you. He got you, and that was all that mattered, as you drifted off to sleep in his big arms, he couldn’t help but think how he needed to keep being with a sweet girl like you, how innocent you were, and how goddamn lucky he was to have you all to himself from now on. 

a/n: thanks for reading! if you like this post pls help a writer out and reblog :)

#joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller headcanon #joel miller hurt/comfort #joel miller hot #dom!joel miller #joel miller x hyperfem!reader #joel miller #tlou smut #liz writes 🖤 #liz’s masterlist

[skateboreds]

A Slice of Orange

chp. 2

*FKA The Orange Slice*

pairing: joel miller x reader

summary: The most dangerous man in town has been staring at you nonstop, but keeps his distance until the night he walks you home...

tags: smut, medium burn, sexy stuff starts in chp.3, age difference, M/F, a lot of goddamn eye contact that turns into porn, porn w plot, zaddy joel, hand/finger kink, praise kink, mild blood in later chps, TLOU pt.II, NO Y/N

notes: Set at the beginning of The Last of Us Part II when Joel and Ellie live in the Jackson, Wyoming community, a few years after TLOU part I. Deviates from canon apart from that. Characterizations based mostly on the first game.

AO3 link: 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45087460/chapters/113424397#workskin

CHAPTER TWO

Ever since you arrived in Jackson five months ago, music nights have been your favorite. Once a month, the town gathers in the meeting hall, the biggest building in town, to play music and drink and dance. It’s become the highlight of your time here, and if you’re being honest, maybe the highlight of your entire life since outbreak day. Which, it’s not like you remember much from that time prior. You were only four when it happened, but the memories of your family before are happy, albeit hazy and brief.

You smile as you walk in from the brisk cold of a March night, hanging your coat on the hooks lining the entrance, already full to the brim with jackets and scarves. The hall is lit as it usually is, with a spiderweb of hanging twinkly lights, making the room warm and golden. You hate to admit it but you search the room for him, quickly scanning the faces around you without trying to seem too obvious. But, to your extreme disappointment, you don’t see him. You kick yourself for the forming frown as you head towards the bar.

It’s ridiculous, you don’t even know him, but ever since your interaction with him a few days ago, your mind has been a non-stop storm of Joel. It’s laughable that you thought you used to think about him constantly because the last few days had bordered onto obsession. You woke up thinking about his eyes when he looked at you with that curiosity, that hunger. Walked to the stables with the image of his broad shoulders behind you, dwarfing your frame. Went to bed imagining his rough hands trailing over your soft skin, drawing lazy circles on your stomach, lower and lower, painting in your wetness, raising those dripping fingers to his open mouth… You stop yourself short when you almost slam into a woman standing before the bar, nearly making her spill her drink.

You apologize profusely and side step away.

Ok, let’s stop fantasizing and just have a nice time, shall we? It doesn’t matter if he’s not here, maybe you’ll never even see him again!

This thought makes the frown deepen on your face. You don’t want to admit just how much that possibility disappoints you.

While you wait for the bartender to pour you a glass you turn to survey the room. There aren’t many beautiful things in this world anymore, so whenever you see one, you make sure to note it. This hall is filled with amber light and laughter and touch and freedom. A band plays in the corner, guitars and fiddles and violins, cheery and upbeat. It’s truly dazzling. Your frown is slowly replaced by a genuine smile. And the longer you look at the people swaying and laughing, you can’t help it, you giggle. At the sight of the spirit of human resistance. That people will always make room for beauty even when survival isn’t guaranteed. You’re standing there, laughing like an idiot when your eyes sweep directly into Joel’s, who is already looking straight at you. You stop short, making an audible noise of surprise. He is sitting in the far-right corner partially obscured by a pillar, which is how you missed him on your first sweep, you realize. He sits with his brother Tommy, and Tommy’s wife Maria. The married couple talk animatedly while Joel sits to their left side, a beer in his hand, and his eyes on you.

His gaze is intense…so intense you aren’t sure if he’s mad at you. Which you truly can’t fathom why he would be. Is he mad that he gave you so many cards? Maybe he feels like he was forced into showing you kindness since you were on the brink of being thrown out and he took pity on you. And now he’s annoyed that he made less than he would have. Maybe he wants them back, you realize with horror. That would tricky; you already spent them on food and a new hat. His expression is stiff, a wild light dancing in his eyes as he just looks at you. Maybe he’s just uncomfortable that you are so obviously interested in him, and he wishes a girl like you would stop mooning over him in public. But you hadn’t even seen him in days! Maybe he was avoiding you, you think with despair.

All of this races through your mind while he spears you with his gaze. His face is still, but his stare is full of molten heat as he slowly takes his eyes off yours and rakes them over your body, down…up…and back to your frozen face.  You become extremely aware of the clothes on your skin, what is exposed and what isn’t. You think perhaps you are trembling and your heart thuds in your chest, the world starting to spin, and his eyes still continue their strange burning.

Finally, someone taps you on your shoulder and the curse is broken. You realize you haven’t been breathing and suck in a shaking breath as a young man comes into view, probably around your age, plain-faced and smiling. He points to your unattended beer at the bar.

“This is yours, ain’t it?”

You don’t know how long your drink was sitting there after it was called out, how long you stood there, consumed by Joel’s attention.

“Oh, yeah thanks. Forgot about that.” you mutter.

“I don’t think I could ever forget about a beer once I’ve laid eyes on it.” he says, looking to be expecting a laugh for that.

Fully ignoring him, you pick up your beer, realizing your hand is shaking as you bring it to your lips. You sneak a look back towards Joel and he is talking to Tommy, seeming perfectly calm, normal. There doesn’t seem to be any trace of the bizarre fervor from before, except for perhaps a lingering tightness to his jaw. You can’t be sure though and look away, down into your glass. Did you just make all of that up??? You feel like you’re slowly losing your mind.

“I’m Adam.” the boy says, sticking out a hand. You don’t look up.

“You don’t have a name?” he asks.

He’s fucking annoying, you think.

“Not interested.” you reply, dryly.

He barks a laugh and shrugs.

“Suit yourself, not interested. I don’t need to know your name, we don’t even have to talk. Just give me one dance.”

His hand is still extended and he pushes it closer, indicating he is wanting to pull you onto the floor. You don’t usually dance when you come to these things, you know some people in town, but not anyone you’d come to these nights with. Not anyone you’d dance with. There’s only one person you fantasized about pressing your body up against while swaying to music. But the thought of that is so ridiculous, stony Joel leading you on a dance floor, that you beat the image back every time it enters your head.

You’re ready to tell Adam you’d rather snort an ant pile then dance with him when your eyes flit back to Joel and you pause. His daughter Ellie and her friend that works at the daycare, you can’t remember her name, are standing by him now. The girls talk energetically and Joel looks up at them, smiling. He’s a different Joel now, his eyes are soft and warm, echoing the light in this room. Tommy chimes in now and Ellie responds by picking up a couple peanuts from the table and tossing them at him. Everyone at the table laughs, including Joel. It’s a laugh you can only see, not hear from where you stand, but it seems genuine and deep.

You’ve only ever seen Joel laugh like that, with abandon, one other time. It was when you originally arrived in Jackson and the first time you ever saw him. You were at the stables looking for work when he and Ellie arrived back from a patrol. They were putting their horses in their stalls, chatting, and they didn’t see you waiting by the back door. Ellie told him a joke, something you can’t remember now, and Joel threw his head back roaring with laughter, his whole frame shaking with it. She giggled, pleased with herself as he ruffled her hair and stared at her with the most love and adoration you had seen in years, maybe ever. The late afternoon sun pierced through the wooden barn roof like swords, and a shaft of light fell on Joel’s beaming face, his tan skin glowing, his eyes soft and shining. He was more than just handsome. He was wearing the proof of love and family and belonging all over his face. He was beautiful. You couldn’t help but stare. That’s when he looked up and noticed you.

You froze as his eyes, quick and perceptive and still warm from laughing, roved over you. They darted over your face before looking your entire body up and down. You don’t know what he beheld when he looked at you, only that his face held first surprise, then relief at not detecting a threat, and finally, a slow intensity that you had come to recognize from him. Something deepened in his regard and you didn’t move a muscle until Ellie noticed where Joel’s attention had gone. She turned towards you.

“Hey! You new? I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” she asked, smiling.

You turned to the girl before you, maybe in her late teens, a happy, pretty face.

“Y-yeah, got here just last week.”

The short conversation you had with his daughter had been the first time you socialized since arriving, and you were grateful for her kindness and openness. But for the entire quick introduction you got of them both, before she excused themselves to go home, Joel didn’t say a single word and his eyes didn’t leave your face. And you had no idea why.

You are brought back to the moment before you, to Joel and Ellie and their family. To the indisputable togetherness they exuded, and you suddenly feel so, sickeningly lonely. You are tired of being alone, of having no one to talk to, to laugh with, to touch. You want to belong and to feel someone want you. Hold you. You miss people.

All of this these thoughts pass through you in the span of only a couple seconds, and before you can think about it took long you are taking Adam’s hand and leading him to the middle of the floor. You don’t think about how he smells like sweat and beer, or how his hands go a little too low on your back, but mostly that someone is witnessing you right now. You are a part of someone else’s story in this moment. For the first time in a long time, you no longer feel like you are disappearing along with everything else in your life that has already evaporated. You spin in Adam’s arms for the rest of the song, the band’s music rising to a roaring crescendo. You don’t pay attention to anything besides how good the pressure of human hands feel on your body, even if they aren’t quite as big as the ones you’ve been fantasizing about. Around and around you twirl, the lights blurring, the other couples swinging near. You’re not focusing on anything until you spot Joel over Adam’s shoulder. He sits alone at the table now, and his face is completely unreadable. His eyes aren’t focused on yours, but rather Adam’s hands grabbing at your waist. You’re not sure what thoughts are behind that strange expression but you notice his hand is squeezing the arm of his chair so tightly that his knuckles are white. Before you can ponder this too long, Ellie and her friend dance past you, smiling at each other. They gaze at each other with shyness and excitement, and you wonder if perhaps they are more than only friends. The thought makes you smile. You are equally happy for their joy as you are jealous of it. You mean to turn back to Joel, to decipher his mood, when Adam suddenly yanks you towards the edge of the dance floor.

“Hey!” you half yell. You weren’t done having fun yet.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asks you, smirking and stepping close. He slides a hand south on your side and squeezes at the flesh on your hip.

Fury flares as you are suddenly very uncomfortable with every place he put his hands on your body, feeling like they left a hot, oily mark on your skin.

“I am not your baby, Asshole.” you say, shoving away and trying to pull your hand back, but he has it grasped tightly.

“Come with me to my place, and we can keep the party going.”

“Get your grimy little hands off me, imbecile.” you respond and this time you yank your arm hard enough to free it.

Adams’ face shifts into something more sinister as he takes a step towards you. You are suddenly very aware of how few people you know in this dance hall, how no one might pay much attention if you were pulled out of here by this idiot. You start to retreat, the hairs on the back of your neck raising as Adam stalks another step. Tensing up, you suck in a breath, ready to yell or punch if need be. You don’t know how to fight but this guy seems drunk and isn’t that large, so you figure you have a pretty good shot of getting past him. But before you can do any of these things, Adam freezes his advance and his gaze slides up off your face onto something much taller, right behind you. You still as you feel the heat of a body standing very close, the lights above you slightly shadowed now.

“I’d suggest listening to a woman when she tells you no.” Joel says from behind you, his voice low and even. Something deadly is present behind his words.

Adam just raises his hands and puts on a sheepish, false grin, the serpent back behind the mask.

“Hey man, we were just having fun.”

“I’m gunna give you two seconds walk away before I bring you outside, Adam.” Joel says icily, somehow the quiet of it sounding so much more dangerous. He enunciates Adam’s name, a threat of knowing who he was.

Adam stiffens and doesn’t so much as throw you a glance as he whips around, disappearing into the crowd. Joel rounds your shoulder then, coming to face you. His eyes are hard, but there seems to be real concern there too.

You look up at the face of the man you’ve been thinking about nonstop, suddenly so close to you. Without warning, you feel a crack snap through the steady hold you’ve been keeping on your emotions for the past five months. It hits hard and deep and the sudden imbalance makes you start giggling; it bubbles forth without your consent. You feel delirious, the entire weight of everything falling on you at once. Your desperate loneliness. Your constant fear and hunger and stupid desires. The fact that you let loose for one moment and some clown tried to pull you out of here. Your anger masked the true, debilitating fear you felt about men. And your biggest nightmare almost just came true. And then your devastating obsession with someone you don’t even know. The fact that Joel, Joel, came to your rescue tonight. When a moment ago it seemed like he wanted to evaporate you with his gaze. Why did he help you just now? Why did he give you ration cards and then stare at you like he couldn’t stand you? And why did he share that stupid fucking orange with you just to take it all back!!??? It doesn’t make any sense. It doesn’t make any sense. You’re laughing for real now, unable to stop the mania that had begun.

“What’s so funny?" he asks warily, his expression creased with far more worry now. You probably seem like you’ve lost your mind.

You can’t figure out how to explain the weight of everything you feel, so you take a second to let the laugh die down and take a calming breath. You decide to settle on a small truth.

“I wish I could scare men off as easily as you do.”

Joel considers this for a moment, searching your face, seeming to try and pick what path to go down. After a beat he slides his hands in his pockets and gives you a smile.

“Oh, trust me, there are plenty of men here that are terrified of you.”

You’re not too sure what he means by that. You’ve never felt like anyone in town even noticed you much, save for the plenty arguments you found yourself in, especially when you first got here. But you didn’t want to fight, you were pretty tired of it, actually. So, you mainly tried to keep to yourself now. Emphasis on the word try. Except for Tate. That guy can go fuck himself. “I don’t think I scare the men I argue with very much.” you respond.

Joel furrows his brow at that, seemingly genuinely dismayed at your interpretation of his words.

“You must notice how they all look at you.” he finally says.

You weren’t expecting him to say that at all. You don’t think you ever particularly noticed anyone looking at you for very long, except for him. Joel searches your eyes and finally nods subtly to the bar. Following his line of sight, you see a gaunt man standing with a mostly empty glass. He is looking at you, which you figured might be due to your proximity to Joel, but the man isn’t looking at him, just you. He notices your attention and smiles, timid. You focus on his expression, and it reminds you of how you must look when you stand in front of the bakery’s window, unable to afford the golden pastries. How you maybe look when you see Joel. He seems actually…interested. In you. He even seems intimidated. You stand there, shock coloring your face no doubt. Joel chuckles slightly and turns his head now to also face him. When the man meets his gaze he quickly ducks his heads and turns back to the bar.

“Is that really the first time you’ve noticed that?” he asks.

“But… I’ve never had anyone…say anything...” you trail off.

“Might be due to the fact that you seem to bite any man’s head off who gets near you.” he responds teasingly.

“All men want is trouble.” you respond.

“You’re not wrong about that.” he says to you, smirking, a double meaning seeming to swim under those words.

Instead of focusing on that though, you instead swivel around the room and sure enough, you meet about three, now four, different men eyeing you up and down. Each one seems perhaps timid, mostly curious, the desire clearer to you now. Joel follows your sweep, looking at the men a second behind you and one by one they drop their gazes, shy intimidation replaced by genuine anxiety when he locks eyes with them.

“You’re scaring off my admirers.” you say, awe tinging your voice.

“I can leave you to ‘em if you want.” he says watching you.

You realize, to them, you appear spoken for. The fear is clear. You’ve seen it when Joel walked through town, or claimed a seat somewhere, or reached for something. A quality you’ve always been envious of. People moving out of his way, careful not to touch what he had his eye on. Real terror. Of what would happen if they got in the way of his intent. It’s a prehistoric way of thinking, that you could be owned like a gun, that you could be something that Joel had. This thought would normally bother you, but the concept of you belonging to Joel sends a ragged thrill to your core, sharp and electric. The crack in your veneer lets a little of that thrill out and you can’t stop what you say next.

"I prefer being claimed by you, I think." you say, staring up at him.

His gaze on you transforms into something dark and starving, something predatory. And as opposed to Adam’s snake-ish look, this one kindles a heat inside you, pooling low in your belly and wrapping down around your knees, threatening to knock your legs out from underneath you. You’re breathless and your skin feels feverish as he advances towards you slowly. So slowly, like he wasn’t even conscious of doing so. He takes steps towards you, until there are only a few inches between your bodies and you’re having to crane your head upwards to look at him. His face is so close and fully in focus for the first time. You can see a scar sloping off the bridge of his nose and you wonder how he got it, wishing you could trail your finger over the short dash. You can also, finally, see his eyes clearly. They’re not brown but…hazel. A mix of jade and warm brown, like staring up at the trees on a summer’s day. They gleam with such illumination, you take his face in now, and in the glow of the gold light he looks…resplendent.

Dear God, you want to touch him so badly; you feel like your skin will light on fire from the desire. You want to hold his face between your hands and stare into those hazel eyes, you want to crush your mouth against his and swallow his every breath. You want to feel his hands explore your skin, greedy. You want him to slam your body to his, you want to feel yourself melt into him until it would be impossible to ever be alone again. You want him, you want him, you want him. With the high of your desire mixed with that new crack in your chest, you feel yourself unravel more and more and you make a decision that has now become unavoidable.

You hope your face reflects your endless craving, so he understands, and you blink up at him, slowly biting your lip.

You can’t be sure over the din of the hall, but you swear you hear a low groan escape his throat.

The sound erases everything else in the room and you can’t help yourself as you reach for his broad chest, your fingers just brushing the tan fabric of his jacket when, quicker than you’d expect, his hand grabs yours, stilling it. The disappointment of not reaching his body is replaced by the sharp low thrum you feel from having his hands around yours. It’s so much larger than yours, the skin warm and calloused and rough. You feel fucking feral. Joel says your name softly and you snap up to meet his eyes, equally crazed to how you feel in this moment. He indicates to the other side of the room though and, with much effort, you tear your gaze away to look. Ellie stands with Maria and Tommy, the latter looking right back, inspecting your hand clutched in his. Tommy raises a brow at Joel questioningly, playfully. Joel drops your hand at this and it falls limply at your side, the absence of his grip suddenly icy and painful. Like hopping out of hot water into icy snow. It feels permanent.

Right. Get a hold of yourself. His family is right there. What were you going to do anyway? Jump his bones in public? In front of his daughter? Does he even think of you in that way?

Doubt fills you, making you feel sick. The noise of the hall is suddenly too loud, the people dancing too hot and close. You’re not sure what your face has twisted into but Joel reaches a hand up to your cheek, stopping before he makes contact. He shoots another glance to the side and Tommy is whispering something to Maria, a smile dancing on both their lips. Next to them, Ellie notices their pointed attention and turns to you both. Joel drops his hand, lightning fast again.

“Can I walk you home?” he asks, sounding almost desperate.

You’re not sure what anything means anymore, but you nod weakly.

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[vivwritescrappythings]

Saying Thanks

Joel Miller x afab!fem!reader

Joel is your grumpy patrol partner who doesn’t even talk to you in the streets of Jackson. But one night a man grabs your arm at the Tipsy Bison, and Joel’s decided he doesn’t like it.

tw: smut, fem reader, afab reader, unspecified age gap, reader is smaller than Joel (shorter, can be picked up by him), oral (m! receiving), p in v sex, crying, fighting, blood, drinking, Joel may be out of character but I don’t care, not proofread.

Word count: 8.1k

minors, fuck off

masterlist

—

Joel was seething. You’d never seen him like this, rage burning in his gaze and his hands balled into fists at his sides as he was pushed toward the door. Of course you’d seen him in fights before, dealing with raiders and infected on patrol was a bloody business at best, but the second the new guy, Jake? Jack, at the Tipsy Bison put a hand on you—just touching your arm—Joel exploded.

You didn’t even have time to blink before the man grabbing your arm was on the ground, ugly bruises blossoming on his face. You didn’t even launch into action to get Joel off of him, shock leaving you frozen. You only remained plastered against the bar, gaping at Joel’s savage expression and the way his fists bludgeoned Jack's face. The drink in your hand spilled over the sides a bit, a sticky combination of fruit juice and alcohol coating your skin and absorbing in the sleeve of your sweater.

You were already tipsy, your face hot and your eyes a bit glassy. You were more loose with your expressions, the careful filter you kept starting to deteriorate. By the time a bar fight broke out, you were already more than a few drinks in, your heart pounding in your chest along with the soft music and a thin layer of sweat starting to prickle at the back of your neck.

Joel had stayed quiet that night, sticking to the secluded booth in the back of the bar that he usually haunted. There was no acknowledgement of each other, his chocolate-colored eyes had landed on you for a moment when you walked in, shadowed over by his dark brow in its permanent scowl. As always, he didn’t speak to you despite the fact that you spent most mornings together patrolling the outskirts of Jackson.

He wasn’t your biggest fan, even going so far as to complain to his brother when the two of you had been assigned together. Tommy was giving you a shot on the patrol, you were newer to Jackson and needed a job. You could handle a gun and didn’t seem completely clueless, so he figured he would stick you with Joel to see if you made it out on the other side.

But, nevertheless, Joel was now being pulled off Jack by a few other patrons. They hauled him up by the collar of his canvas jacket, his knuckles bloodied and a snarl on his face as Jack scrambled away. You still stood wide-eyed and dopey, your voice caught in your throat as you struggled for something to say.

Joel wouldn’t look at you, eyes drilling into Jack as he was shoved toward the door. He kept hissing threats through his teeth, snippets of ‘I’ll break your fucking arm if you ever touch her again,’ audible above the music as he grappled with the men trying to contain him.

Your gaze traced the outline of his aquiline nose, the way his lips were pursed beneath his dark mustache. It was a struggle to push him out the door. You flinched when it slammed shut behind him, spilling more of your drink.

“You better get your damn dog on a leash.” It was one of the older women in the neighborhood, her brows drawn and a disgusted expression on her face as she regarded you. You finally snapped out of your shocked stupor, looking at Jack’s bloodied and swollen face as he was picked up and put into a booth.

What was Joel even thinking?

You downed your drink in a few gulps, setting the empty glass on the bar before pushing yourself away from the bar top. Wind swept inside the Tipsy Bison as you forced the door open, providing a moment of relief from the humid heat of the bar. It was starting to get cold out, dried leaves swirling in the breeze as autumn settled into the bones of Jackson.

You shivered, wrapping your arms around yourself as you peered out into the darkness. The leaves crunched under your shoes as you took a few tentative steps, the sweater you wore offering you little protection from the wind.

Joel leaned against the wall of a nearby business, his head tilted back and his throat bared to the dim light of the moon. He was sucking in deep breaths through his mouth, his bloody knuckles limp at his sides. His jacket was off-kilter from where he’d been thrown out the door, his hair mussed.

“Joel?” You approached him like you would a wild animal, on high alert and prepared for any sudden movement.

He looked at you with a bored expression, the moonlight catching on the silver hair that splintered at his temples and in his patchy beard. You hesitated, stopping your approach for a moment before pressing on until you were a few feet in front of him. His dark curls stuck up in every direction, they were a little long now that winter was approaching.

“What the hell was that?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest as your weight settled so one hip popped out to the side. You sounded more aggressive than you intended to, the words coming out like an accusation rather than a question.

It was times like this that made the age and size difference between you and Joel apparent. He stood up straight, towering over you a bit as he cleared his throat. Sometimes he made you feel like you were still just a dumb teenager instead of a woman in her mid twenties. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, his voice a deep grumble with a slight southern twang to it.

A scoff leaves your mouth before you can even stop it, the alcohol reducing your filter to near non-existence. “What do you mean, Joel? I watched you beat the shit out of that guy for what? Touching my arm?” You were a little too loud, your voice ricocheting off the buildings around you. Under different circumstances, you would have cringed and apologized immediately, but something forced you to soldier on.

Thankfully no one else was outside that night—it was too cold and still too early for the Tipsy Bison to have a last call. It felt like a standoff. His dark eyes were trained on your face, his mouth drawn into a scowl. You usually backed down to him, acquiescing to his stubborn nature.

“And so what if it was?” Joel grumbled, his attitude matching your own. The way he crossed his arms made his biceps bulge under the fabric of his jacket—your breath hitched for a moment before you glanced away.

You shook your head, disbelief coloring your expression as his words settled in. “You don’t even like me!” You can’t help but gesture wildly, your hands moving like they had minds of their own.

He ignored you regularly. There was an unspoken rule of only acknowledging one another on patrols together. The woods outside of Jackson were the only place that Joel would actually talk to you, otherwise you acted like perfect strangers in town.

His jaw clenched as he pushed off the wall, taking a few steps closer to you. “Who said I didn’t like you?” he asked, his voice lower as his head dipped toward yours.

He couldn’t be serious.

Your eyebrows shot up, disbelief making you smile incredulously. “What, so ignoring me in public and complaining about me to Tommy is how you treat your friends?” You were moments away from leaving and letting Joel find a new patrol partner.

You spent too much time defending Joel from his reputation as the town pariah, arguing that he wasn’t the animal everyone thought he was. He had a hard time blending in, bigger than most everyone except for his brother and unapproachable to a fault. It seemed that Tommy and Ellie were the only people he willingly spoke to, otherwise keeping largely to himself.

Sometimes you wondered if he heard the rumors going around about him—speculation that he used to be a hunter, a smuggler, a heartless killer. You never had it in you to ask him about it.

Not that he would tell you, anyways.

Joel’s scowl deepened, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. His silence did nothing but rile you up, it felt like an admission to the fact that you were right. You huffed, the autumnal breeze making dried leaves stick to your jeans and your breath clouding in the air.

“Well, Joel, you should really figure out how to act like an adult,” you snapped, shaking your head as you started to turn away from him. “You’re way too old to be beating up boys at a bar for touching someone you don’t even give a damn about.”

The Tipsy Bison called to you, warm light spilling out the windows and the people moving inside. Your friends were still in there, giggling with one another at the bar. You could see others nursing Jack in a booth, pressing ice wrapped in towels against his face as his blood turned them pink.

“I didn’t like how he was grabbing ya,” Joel finally said after you’d taken a few steps away. The admission made you stop in your tracks, looking back over your shoulder at the man. He looked sheepish as he admitted it, his gaze on the floor like a toddler getting scolded. He cleared his throat, taking a deep breath before redirecting his eyes to the sky. “You didn’t… you didn’t hear how he was talking about you… didn’t want you with a guy like that.”

Your eyebrows shot up, your lips parting slightly. Your head tilted up to look at him properly, eyes narrowed slightly as you evaluated him. He seemed shockingly sincere, the awkward expression on his face sealing the deal. “Careful Joel, I’m almost starting to think you care about me.”

There was something in the way his eyes shifted to meet yours that almost made your heart stop.

“Never said I didn’t care,” he mumbled, one of his baseball mitt hands coming to rub the back of his neck. The blood on his knuckles was drying, turning to a rust color under the moonlight. You couldn’t help but purse your lips, tilting your head to one side. It was hard to understand, the alcohol making you feel like you were buzzing as you mulled over Joel’s words.

He cleared his throat again, shuffling a little closer to you in the process. “When I talked to Tommy, I wasn’t complainin’ about you,” Joel said. His cheeks were flushed, making you wonder if he was cold or just from the alcohol. He was notorious for sucking down bourbon like it was water, especially on nights when he had nothing to do the next day.

“You weren’t?” you asked, probing the older man a bit. You had only walked by when Joel was talking to his brother, catching your name in their hushed whispers and Joel’s strained expression. You’d assumed it was because he was stuck with you, a newer recruit, a woman.

Joel sighed, shaking his head. It felt like you were pulling every word from his throat. “Tommy… he uh… he put us together because he thought it would be good for me,” he said, hesitating between parts of his sentence. “Thought you’d be good for me.”

“Good for you?” The alcohol made your voice soft around the edges, the question tumbling out of you before you had the sense to stop it. Joel stepped closer, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. He was close enough that you could see the scar on his ear, the scars littering his bloodied hands and the ones across his nose. Sure, you’d seen them on patrol as you walked shoulder to shoulder, but for some reason you find yourself trying to memorize every detail about him in the moonlight.

“Yeah, sweetheart, good for me,” Joel mumbled, looking down at his boots for a moment before making eye contact with you again. Sweetheart. The nickname rattled around in your mind, echoing in time with your heartbeat. You would’ve punched anyone else for calling you sweetheart, but it sounded good coming from Joel.

Your face heated up, an odd smile quirking up the corners of your mouth as you struggled to find words to say. “You’re a liar, Joel,” you manage to spit out.

He let out a chuckle, the kind that hardly made any noise and just let out a sharp breath of air. You earned one every now and then, it always made you beam when you could get him to chuckle on patrol. “Yeah? I could’ve switched a long time ago,” Joel murmured, shrugging his broad shoulders. “Tommy offered to let me switch.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, a sliver of your combative nature rising up your throat. You wanted to argue with the older man, inform him that he was wrong.

Joel must have picked up at the way your jaw twitched, your expression twisting. “It’s nice to listen to ya blabber in the mornings,” he said, his tone lighter than it had been. It was almost easy to forget what happened in the Tipsy Bison, the way you watched him beat Jack’s face into a pulp.

You huffed, shaking your head. There was a small smile on your face as the heat continued to rise on your cheeks. “Then why do you act like I’m a stranger when I see you around?” you asked Joel. You scraped your teeth over your lower lip, scuffing the toe of your shoe in the dirt.

Joel’s face fell a bit, his eyes softening as he became serious once more. “You don’t want to be around me anyways, people would judge ya.” It was like he didn’t want to admit it, his voice low and mumbling.

You hummed your disagreement, deciding to be bold and step even closer to the huge man in front of you. He towered a head over most people in Jackson, strong and wide and sturdy. You looked over his tanned, weathered skin, his dark curls that were starting to show age through scattered silver strands. “You don’t seem too bad to me,” you said, nearly a whisper.

You saw how Ellie looked at him like he was her favorite person in the world. If that girl could trust him, then so could you.

Joel’s warmth radiated onto you in the cool evening, the smell of bourbon on his breath and blood on his hands. He shook his head, maintaining the closeness you’d established. “Sweetheart, you know most of the shit they say about me around this town is true.”

You’d figured as much. You’d watched Joel kill raiders without a blink of an eye and jump into action whenever infected approached the high, protective walls around Jackson. The first time you’d witnessed it, his precision took your breath away. Now it was something that you had come to depend on.

“I assumed as much,” you said with a shrug, folding your arms over your chest and tucking your hands under your armpits to keep them warm. “Never mattered to me,” you said, biting the inside of your cheek for a moment.

You considered going back to the bar to avoid the chill, but you didn’t feel like having to answer questions about you and Joel all night. Everyone would want to know what he said to you out here, would have their own ideas about why he did it. There were a few breaths of silence. “But, I should probably go home.”

“Not gonna go back inside?” Joel asked, nodding his chin toward the Tipsy Bison. His gaze was still focused on you. You thought about it for a moment before shaking your head, glancing back at the bar. It had lost its appeal.

“Just home, Joel. Have a good night… thanks for protecting my honor and stuff,” you said with a small smile. There was a lightness in the way you spoke, your eyes sparkling in the darkness.

You started to walk toward your house, living in the opposite direction from Joel. “Make sure you clean up those hands of yours, don’t want to have to get another patrol partner any time soon,” you said without looking back, dead leaves crunching under your feet with each step.

You heard his heavy footfalls behind you until Joel fell into step at your side. “Mind helping me out? Not great at first aid,” he said, holding his knuckles out in front of him. They were blown apart.

“Jesus, Joel,” you muttered, grabbing one of his wrists to inspect his hand as you walked. His wrist was warm and thick in your hand, he didn’t pull away. The wounds overlapped a number of scars beneath them, a snippet of Joel’s past violence. “Were you trying to kill him or just teach him a lesson?”

“I don’t pull my punches,” Joel said with a noncommittal shrug, making you roll your eyes. Of course he didn’t. Joel definitely taught him a lesson. You dropped his wrist, not giving him a response as you followed the path to your home.

Your house was one of the smaller ones, the yellow paint starting to peel off the siding and the wall around Jackson casting a shadow over it in the moonlight. Joel was grumbling about your proximity to the wall as you opened your front door and flicked on the lights.

“Take off your boots before you track mud in, I’ll meet you in the kitchen,” you tell Joel, toeing your shoes off before you head to one of the bathrooms. You can still hear him complaining as his heavy boots hit the floor, his lumbering footsteps going to the kitchen. The layout for all of the homes in Jackson was relatively the same, the sub-development it had been converted from seemed fairly cookie-cutter.

Joel sat patiently at the counter as you brought in the first aid kit, setting it down on the stone countertop and flicking it open. He seemed calm and unconcerned, more like a seasoned veteran to first aid than a novice. “I find it hard to believe that you’re bad at this,” you murmured, opening an alcohol wipe to start cleaning his knuckles.

Joel placed his big, catcher’s mitt hands flat on the counter for you to work. His jaw tensed a few times as you wiped over the largest knuckle on each of his hands. “I’m here for your gentle touch, sweetheart,” he muttered, sarcasm biting his tone and making you laugh.

“I’m not a nurse for a reason,” you said, smearing ointment onto the wounds with your fingertips. You tried to be careful, not applying too much pressure to the irritated skin.

Joel chuckled, watching your movements as you pulled out a roll of gauze and loosely wrapped his wounds to cover them. He flexed his hands as soon as you were finished, the gauze stretching tight when he made fists. “Good as new,” you said, leaning against the countertop. You both looked down at his bandaged wounds, lingering in the closeness before you stepped away.

“Now, you should hold off on bar fights for a while.” Mirth glittered in your eyes as you grabbed a wine bottle from one of the shelves in your kitchen. You grabbed two glasses without asking, methodically going through the motions of opening the bottle and pouring.

It felt like you and Joel were sprinting head-first at a line the two of you had never crossed before. There was a shift from coworkers to something else, and it started the second Joel pounced on Jack. You found yourself studying his face as you handed him a wine glass, categorizing his features as you took a sip. He was handsome, but he always had been—you just didn’t let yourself recognize it.

“No promises,” Joel grumbled, taking a long drink. You watched him swallow, your eyes partially lidded before you remembered yourself. You felt your cheeks and ears heat up as you took another drink, unclenching your fist at your side and focusing on the stretch of the bones and ligaments.

“You really didn’t need to beat Jack up, I can handle myself,” you murmured, your lashes fluttering as you redirected your gaze to Joel.

He just snorted softly, shaking his head. His expression twisted into amusement, the papery wrinkles of his crow’s feet becoming pronounced. Your brows furrowed, your head tilting as you prepared to argue the fact that you could, in fact, defend yourself. “His name is Jake.”

Embarrassment made blood rush to your face so quickly you almost felt light headed. A sheepish smile settled on your features, a giggle working its way through your throat. “He even let me call him Jack like… five times the other day,” you said into your wine glass, a guilty look on your face.

“Poor boy’s got it bad then,” Joel said, smirking at you. His dark eyes appeared even darker in the lighting of your kitchen.

“Don’t worry, I think you scared him enough,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. You picked your glass up off the counter, walking out of the kitchen to your cozy living room.

Joel came to sit on the couch as you stoked a fire to life, burning some of the dried kindling you kept in a bucket near the fireplace to coax the logs to life. You could feel his eyes on your back as you crouched, the flames breathing warmth over you as they crackled. The combination of his gaze, the fire, and the wine you kept sucking down in mouthfuls made a sweat prickle at the back of your neck as you stood up straight.

He made himself comfortable, lounging on the couch with an arm draped on the back of it. He’d brought the bottle of wine, it sat on the coffee table next to his empty glass. One of your eyebrows arched as you sat next to him, leaving enough space between the two of you that you could twist and bring your knees and feet up onto the sofa.

“You really made yourself at home.”

Joel cracked an easy smile, the fire illuminating the deep shadows of scowl lines on his forehead. You felt the urge to smooth them out with your fingertips. “I’ve got a habit of doing that,” he said, his dark gaze sliding to the fireplace. One of the logs popped, sending sparks through the hearth.

There was a lapse of silence where you reached over and filled up his wine glass again. You felt surprisingly comfortable next to him, relaxing your side against the cushioned back of the couch as you faced Joel. “The ladies at the Tipsy Bison called you my guard dog.”

That made him outright snicker. “Yeah? I’m your guard dog, huh?” he asked, clearly teasing. The way his flannel clung to his shoulders was heavenly, wrapped around every well-defined muscle like a second skin. The wine was staining his mouth purple, you were enraptured as his tongue darted out to catch any remaining drops on his lips.

You cleared your throat, blinking as you nodded. “Said I should get you on a leash,” you mumbled, the heat on your cheeks spreading to your neck and ears. You gulped the wine to break some of the tension, your nose scrunching as you swallowed.

There was a shift, it would’ve gone unnoticed if you weren’t paying attention.

Joel stretched a bit, tilting his head back as he finished the rest of the wine in one gulp before setting the glass on the coffee table. When he sat back, he’d moved closer to you. Your knee was nearly touching his thigh, that inch of empty space feeling electric.

“Do you want me on a leash?” he asked, his voice deep. There was something different to his tone, the harsh edges of his voice rounded out more than usual. The question made your breath stutter in your chest. The sincerity in his expression caught you off guard. You opened your mouth to speak, only silence coming out. “If there was anyone who could convince me, it would probably be you, sweetheart.”

You choked on your wine, awkward and clumsy as you sat up straight to prevent it from coming out of your nose. Part of you felt like Joel had turned you inside out as you spluttered, confusion and self-consciousness running rampant.. Finally you got a hold of yourself, sucking in wet breaths with tears in your eyes.

“You okay?” His voice was sweet and soft when he asked, as though he hadn’t caused it. You nodded, waiving off his concern as his paw of a hand grabbed your shoulder. His touch was napalm, igniting your skin through your thin sweater.

“Just surprised me,” you choked out, wiping away the tears with the heel of your hand as you sniffled. Joel’s hand stayed where it was, his thumb rubbing along your collarbone over the black fabric. He did nothing but hum his acknowledgement, patiently waiting for you to catch your breath.

Another cough rattled through you before you could breathe again. Joel’s eyebrows were raised as he watched you, mirth sparkling in his eyes. “You are so full of shit, Joel Miller,” you finally said, pushing his shoulder lightly.

He still was touching you, leaning forward into your space as he did so. Your breaths were shallow, apprehensive and giddy in all the right ways.

“You think I’m full of shit?” he asked, smirking.

“I know you are.” You couldn’t help but flirt, batting your eyelashes and smirking at Joel. You felt electric, lightning just crackling under your skin with the potential thrill of him reciprocating. Sure, you were risking a decent work relationship, but you could get a new patrol partner.

He hummed thoughtfully, his hand creeping toward the back of your neck. The stretch of his fingers to the meat of his palm spanned nearly three-quarters of the circumference of your throat, something that should’ve chilled you to the bone. Excitement sparked in your belly as you swallowed against the firm press of his thumb on your windpipe.

“You don’t seem like an ‘on the leash’ kind of guy,” you murmured, the feeling of the gauze you’d wrapped around his knuckles rubbing against your soft skin making you shiver slightly.

“No, guess I don’t,” Joel agreed, his dark brown gaze shifting from your eyes to your mouth and back. It was so quick, but the thrill that followed made you feel like you were glowing. You slicked your tongue over your lower lip, making it shine in the firelight.

The way he spoke made you press your thighs together, the stiff seam of your jeans pressing against you in the perfect way if you shifted how you were sitting. Joel moved as well, his thighs spreading just a bit, a palm quickly smoothing over his lap in an action he probably didn’t think he would notice.

“Sweetheart, we should just get this out of the way.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion before Joel was pulling you toward him, his lips slotting over yours. A soft, startled noise was muffled against Joel’s mouth, shock dissipating quickly as your eyes slid shut. His mustache tickled your upper lip as you accidentally bumped your nose against his.

When he pulled back, there was a hint of a smile on his face. Your face felt like it was on fire, a goofy grin gracing your features as your gaze flickered over him.

Joel’s other hand crept onto your jean-clad thigh, a calloused thumb stroking along the frayed hole at your knee. “So, was that weird for you?” you asked like an insecure teenager, your teeth digging into your lower lip as you waited for his answer.

Your heart was pounding, the irrational side of your brain wondering if he was able to hear it. He surely felt it against his palm, his heavy hand resting near your pulse as he kept you close on the couch. He smiled at your question, shaking his head no as he pulled you back in for a second kiss. It was quicker, a messy stamp of his mouth over yours.

“Didn’t think you’d be into an old man like me,” he said with a chuckle. If you didn’t know better it almost seemed like Joel felt bashful. The apples of his cheeks were dusted pink, whether it was from the kiss or the wine you didn’t know.

Your eyebrow arched, a grin still on your face. “You’re not old,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. Your hands were pressed into your lap, part of you not knowing what to do with them. You looked up at Joel through your eyelashes before your gaze dragged down his torso and to his jeans. The flannel he wore was thin, the fabric well-worn and not tucked into his blue jeans.

“I should, um, thank you,” you murmured, shifting to put your empty wine glass on the coffee table.

Joel chuckled, still watching you like a hawk that set sights on its prey. “Last I checked, you were just lecturing me about fighting your own battles,” he teased, curiosity shining deep in his chocolate eyes as you got off your couch.

The wine must have gotten to your head, because you would’ve thought you were losing your mind. You moved to stand between Joel’s legs, slowly sinking to your knees on the squishy gray carpet that covered your living room. “I don’t have to thank you if you don’t want me to, Joel,” you murmured, your hands hovering over his thick thighs for a moment before resting on them.

He looked dumbfounded and giddy, his hands already resting on the black, leather belt he wore around his waist. “No, sweetheart, you’ve got a…uh… promising idea,” Joel said with a smile, shifting his legs so they bracketed you and his knees pressed against the coffee table.

You laughed softly, hands roaming up his muscular thighs to where his belt rested just under the soft layer of fat covering his stomach. “You sure? I can always get back up,” you said teasingly, working your fingers under the tongue of his belt and pulling the buckle open. It clinked as it fell off to the sides, you didn’t bother pulling it from the belt loops.

Joel shook his head, leaning back farther into the couch and shifting his hips toward you. “M’sure,” he answered, preoccupied on the way your fingers popped open the button of his jeans and worked the zipper down.

He was already hard, the outline of his cock pressing against the denim and toward his thigh. You reached into his black boxers, pulling it out of its confinement with a satisfied sigh.

He was big, bigger than any other guy you’d been with. You held the base of his cock, fingers against the curly, dark hair that covered his pubic bone and ran up toward his belly button. It was hot to the touch, the head already leaking precum that followed the path of the prominent veins down his shaft. It was more pink than the rest of him, the head a shade darker than the rest.

You licked your lips, almost embarrassed to find yourself drooling as you braced your forearm on his thigh and kitten-licked at the underside of Joel’s cock. He grunted at the contact, his hands digging into the plush cushion of the couch as his hips twitched toward your face.

“Eager,” you mumbled, a smile on your face as you looked up at Joel through your eyelashes. He was already looking down at you, his lips parted in anticipation and his breaths heavier than they were. You licked the tip of his cock again, the salty taste of his precum on your tongue. There’s something about the way that Joel lets a breath out through his teeth that makes you feel like you were set on fire.

You let out a breathy chuckle, wrapping your lips around the head of him and hollowing out your cheeks on your descent toward his lap. It was a lot to take, your eyes watering as you swallowed more of Joel’s cock. His moans and sighs were enough to keep you going, your lips curled over your teeth and your head bobbing up and down.

One of his hands found the curve of your jaw, calloused fingers tracing it before hooking around the back of your head. You were fine with his direction, letting Joel gently press your head down to dictate your speed.

The taste of him was salty and heady, a musk that was distinctly Joel filling your nose as you drooled and sucked his cock. It was slick with your spit, the mix of your saliva and his precum coating your lips and chin. You still had your hand wrapped around the base of him and moving in tandem with your mouth, ensuring you could get everything that your throat couldn’t fit.

“Goddamn, sweetheart, you suck cock like you were made for it,” Joel said, his words punctuated with soft sighs and moans. It made you want to live permanently with his praise, your gaze flicking up to meet Joel’s for a moment.

He was completely blissed out, his head tilted back toward the ceiling as he bit his full lower lip between his teeth. His Adam’s apple kept moving erratically in his throat, like he couldn’t decide whether to breathe or not. His hand still cupped the black of your head, half-thought praises falling frantically from his lips. Joel was barely speaking in sentences, some words falling to the wayside of his soft grunts.

Feeling emboldened, you moved your hand away and tried to relax your jaw as your head descended far enough that your nose was pressed firmly against Joel’s pubic hair. It smelled surprisingly clean, just the undertone of musk clinging to the dark, curly thatch of hair as you resisted the urge to choke around his cock.

It was thick and heavy in your throat as you swallowed around him, eliciting groans and his hand pressing tightly against the back of your head. Tears burned in your eyes as Joel’s thick cock twitched in your throat, your hands spread flat on your thighs as he moaned your praises.

Joel barely thrusted his hips toward your awaiting mouth, your eyes slipped shut so you could focus on relaxing your throat. Lungs burning, you finally pulled off to suck in deep breaths. Your hand resumed what your mouth had been doing moments before, taking Joel in your fist and using your saliva as lubrication.

“Look at how pretty you are,” Joel murmured, his southern accent thicker than normal as the hand on the back of your head shifted to cup your cheek. Your eyes were watery with a few tears tracking down your face, your lips swollen and saliva coating the entirety of your chin.

You smiled, stroking his cock as you struggled to regain your breath. “Didn’t know you were such a good girl,” Joel drawled, dragging his thumb through the saliva on your chin and smearing the pad of it across your parted lips.

“When I want to be.” Your voice was thick and raspy, your eyes partially lidded. Your knees were digging into the carpet, his legs keeping you where you sat.

He smirked at that. Joel gently moved your hand away from his cock, his arms winding beneath your armpits and lifted you back up to the couch. You squealed in the back of your throat, surprised by his strength as he settled you against the arm of the couch and twisted to face you.

Large hands yanked your sweater over your head to reveal the black bra you wore, a soft groan coming from Joel. He didn’t waste time, finding the back closure and popping it open. You helped him, guiding the thin straps down your arms and tossing the garment aside.

“Christ,” Joel mumbled, his thick fingers brushing over one of your nipples. A jolt of electricity traveled down your spine at the touch, warmth blooming on your cheeks.

You were impatient, panties already soaked through and feeling uncomfortable as you popped open the button on your jeans. “Joel, I need you,” you murmured, leaning forward to kiss him as you shimmied your pants and underwear over your hips.

“So impatient,” he muttered between presses of your lips, pulling away so he could look at you properly. The firelight illuminated the curves and shadows that littered your body, stretch marks and scars visible on your skin. Self-consciousness reared its ugly head for a moment, your gaze fluttering away from Joel’s intensity as he just stared at you.

He grabbed your thighs, pulling you toward him until your back hit the couch. “Joel…” you whined as he pressed your thighs apart, his dark eyes focused on your sex.

He spread the slicked lips apart with his thumb, making you cover your face with your hands out of embarrassment. “Look at you…” he mumbled, hardly even talking to you. He let go of your other thigh, his fingertips teasing your clenching hole to gather some of the wetness dripping down you and smearing it across your clit.

You gasped, your back arching at the contact against the nerves. Joel’s fingers were calloused and thick and warm, drawing tight, slow circles over your clit as his other hand pressed into the crease between your inner thigh and your pubic bone. It kept your hips from squirming away from him.

“You’re so sensitive, sweetheart,” Joel said, the smile audible in his voice. You’d kept your hands over your face, your moans muffled by your palms as you resisted the urge to snap your thighs closed. You felt vulnerable and exposed under him.

“You’re teasing,” you mumbled, your hips twitching in an attempt to get more friction from his calloused fingers. He kept his touch agonizingly light, making you whine and whimper in your desperation for more from him. He chuckled, fingers dipping to tease your entrance again before trailing back up to your clit.

“Let me see ya,” Joel said, his hand leaving the nestle of your thigh to wrap around your wrists and pull them away from your face. He held both in one hand, keeping your wrists captive against your sternum.

Your breaths were heavy, his fingers strumming over the swollen bump of your clit pulling moans from your throat. Joel’s eyes were partially lidded as he looked down at you, a smirk growing on his face at your desperate expression. “Joel, please,” you begged, your cunt clenching around empty space as you wished he would just fucking fill you up already.

He chuckled, clicking his tongue against his teeth with mock disapproval. “If you’re so desperate, get up and turn around, sweetheart,” he said, pulling you up by your wrists. “My knees aren’t what they used to be, help an old man out.”

You’d normally take that opportunity to make a joke at his expense, but you just let him move you around like a doll. He guided you so you were kneeling on the couch, your chest pressed against the back of it. You arched your back as much as you could, sticking your ass out and hoping you looked pretty as you looked at Joel over your shoulder. He didn’t even bother getting undressed, just standing up behind you and taking his cock in his hand.

His other hand still rubbed over your cunt, smearing your arousal over your swollen lips and onto your inner thighs. Much to your relief, he pressed two thick fingers inside you. The sensation made you groan, resting your weight on your elbows and your knees as you pushed back against his fingers. They slid in so easy you were almost embarrassed.

“You’ll take me just fine, sweetheart,” Joel murmured, approval echoing in his voice. He crooked his fingers to press and massage the spongy spot inside of you, making your mouth fall open and your legs jerk.

You twisted enough to glare at him, Joel covered in shadow from the fire crackling behind him. “Quit being an asshole, Joel,” you said through your teeth, making him chuckle.

“Where are your manners, sweetheart?” he asked, pulling his fingers from your cunt. He brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a sigh before grabbing your hip with a hand. His wet fingers smeared against your heated skin as he pulled you back a little more, making your back arch like a bow pulled too tight.

He slid the blunt head of his cock between your folds until it tapped against your clit, making him when you whimpered. Joel finally granted you what you wanted, lining up with your entrance and pressing his way in. His cock caught, sliding in so slow that it made you squirm.

“Relax, sweetheart.” Joel’s big hand slid up and down your curved spine, calloused fingers feeling each and every notch of your vertebrae. Your pussy fluttered around him, stretched out and so eager as he bullied his way inside of you. The breath you took in was frantic and overwhelmed, it felt as though he was pushing all of the air out of your body. The two fingers he had pressed inside of you as a test didn’t prepare you at all for his thick cock.

You could hardly breathe, you’d never taken a cock this big inside of you without any preparation–but you were too impatient to wait for him to stretch you out on his fingers. You were pathetic, whining and wheezing as your hands clenched against the cushions on the back of your couch.

You’d never felt anything better in your life.

After what felt like ages, Joel was fully seated inside of you. His coarse jeans were pressed against your soft thighs, the two of you breathing heavily like you’d run a marathon.

“You’ve gotta relax. Feels like you’re gonna squeeze my dick off,” Joel said, slowly grinding his pelvis against the swell of your ass. You nodded, trying to take in deep breaths and get used to the feeling of being stretched full.

“Sorry,” you muttered as you focused on becoming pliant, your taught muscles slowly releasing. His beard rasped against the back of your neck as he kissed you there, a moment of intimacy to calm you down. It felt like a reward, your breaths slowing as you unclenched around Joel and welcomed him deeper.

The sound you made when Joel pulled out and pressed back in was pathetic. It felt like he was sawing you in half, carving a space for his cock inside of you with each thrust. There was some caution to his movements, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips as he grit his teeth.

“So fucking tight, sweetheart,” Joel said, his voice muffled as his mouth pressed against your neck. Each thrust coaxed a gasp from you, your nails digging into the fabric of the couch as you took whatever Joel is willing to give. Your vision was blurry from the overwhelmed tears brimming your eyes.

The sound of your bodies smacking together filled your living room, the open belt still threaded through Joel’s pants clinking on the off beat. He maintained his pace like a machine, drilling into the gummy spot inside you that made your eyes roll back in your head.

Your nipples were sensitive, rubbing against the coarse fabric of the couch cushions with every thrust. The noises you made were absolutely undignified, the sounds of someone being fucked completely stupid. He was filling you up so perfectly and the knowledge that it was Joel, your hardass patrol partner who never gave affection to anyone, it made you feel like you’d touched a live wire.

“Tell me how it feels, sweetheart,” Joel said, a wide hand reaching around you to fondle your breast. He used it to bring you back, curving your spine so the back of your head was pressed against his collarbone and you looked up at where the wall and ceiling met.

You felt helpless and primal, your mind scattered a million different places. “So good,” you gasped stupidly, hardly able to form words. Your hands grabbed his forearm and fisted in his flannel behind you, an effort to anchor yourself to him.

“I know,” he murmured, kissing the shell of your ear. You were vaguely aware of tears running down your cheeks, your mouth hanging open as you struggled to stay afloat. You were already lost, a sea of sensation pulling you under with only the places where you and Joel were pressed together serving as your lifeline.

Joel’s free hand reached around your belly, finding your neglected clit with practiced ease. You moaned his name like a broken record, your eyebrows furrowing. He rubbed it hard and fast, matching the pace he was rutting into you with. You already felt heat pooling in your lower abdomen.

“Oh god,” you gasped, already shaking from head to toe and your grip tightening around his forearm. “Joel I’m—yes, yes, yes—“

It felt like your whole world shattered as you came with a shout, your muscles convulsing. You clamped around Joel’s cock like a vise, your hips twitching wildly. Pleasure flooded through you from head to toe, warm and fuzzy and all-consuming. The sensation was simultaneously too much and not enough, Joel steadily fucking you through it as your vision went white.

Joel had to pull himself away from you, letting you slump forward on the couch cushion as you came down from your orgasm. You were clenching around nothing, whining at how cruel he was to leave you empty.

The wet, sticky sounds coming from him made you turn your head as you went boneless on the couch. Joel’s cheeks were red as he tugged at his cock, a hand squeezing the flesh of your ass. His dark eyes were focused on you, all loose limbed and spent.

He finally noticed you looking, his mouth open and panting. He took in your fucked out expression, your eyelashes clumped with tears and cheeks red. He’d made a mess of you, the dazed look on your face his undoing as he let out a grunt. He sunk his teeth into his lower lip as he came, spurting thick come over your ass as his fingers dug into you.

You sighed as you felt his hot come land on your ass and back, pooling in the curve of your spine. You were still floaty and out of it, vaguely aware of him milking the last spurts of his spend from his thick cock.

“Jesus,” he grumbled, swaying for a moment before sitting down on the couch next to you. He gathered you in his arms, pulling you onto his lap and against his chest as you went perfectly limp.

You nuzzled against his neck, humming your affection as his hand rubbed up and down your back. The motion smeared his come along your skin, his fingers rubbing it in like body lotion. It was like he’d stuck your brain in a blender, the mush of the aftermath hardly able to form more than feelings as you pressed your forehead against his beard.

“I’ll beat up the whole town if this is the thanks I get,” Joel said, pressing a kiss to your temple. His barrel chest shook beneath you with a chuckle, his hands never straying from your body.

“No one’s gonna want to touch me with a ten-foot pole,” you muttered after a moment of silence, it took you a beat to even process what Joel was saying. He snickered, seeming pleased with himself as you melted deeper into his embrace.

“Good, I should be the only one touching you,” he said, making warmth bloom in your chest. “Unless I’m assuming things.”

You smiled, a sleepy look still on your face as you wound your arms around his neck and snuggled in closer. “So this wasn’t a spur of the moment thing?” you asked, sounding shy as you said it.

Joel chuckled, shaking his head. “You know how many times I had to go home after patrol and take a cold shower just because you bumped my arm or bent over to pick something up? Felt like a damn teenager.”

You giggled, picking your head up to look at Joel properly. He looked so soft and sweet around the edges, that normal fire and flintiness was gone from his dark eyes. “You gonna stay tonight?”

He pulled you in for a kiss, it was sweet and over all too soon. “If you’ll let me,” Joel said, sounding earnest.

You nodded, tucking your head back against his neck. You were starting to succumb to your drowsy state, your eyes sliding shut as you puddled into Joel. You were vaguely aware of him lifting you off the couch, his good-natured grumbling about carrying you up the stairs filling your ears.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #the last of us #tlou #the last of us x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #the last of us smut #joel tlou #I pictured show Joel but you can picture game Joel #they’re both hot #pedro pascal #tlou hbo #tlou fanfiction

[softiepedrito]

King of my fucking heart

#pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pascalispunk #pedro pascal x you #joel miller #the last of us #the mandalorian #pedrito #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #hes so pretty #HE'S SO FUCKING HOT #AND THE LONG HAIR??? #so hawt #OH GAWDDDDD

[awesomesauce-n-sassypants]

I love that a practically half-defrosted, feverish 60 years old man can emerge from a coma purely because his baby girl is under threat, and just... follow up with whatever deranged shit that was... 

That’s hot.

#tlou #the last of us #joel miller #can you imaging losing the apocalypse to a 60 year old half dead freshly defrosted man #like man #you survived the fungi and the not so fun guys just to lose it to a rabid senior citizen that moves like a serial killer version of batman?! #pedro pascal #hot shit #this show and game is and was something

[thebusylilbee]

im sorry but HOW am I supposed to blame Joel when he looks like THIS ??? when he's got his beautiful big brown eyes all wet and sad because he thought he was about to lose a daughter again ?!? like HELLOO ??? he can commit all the atrocities he wants he's allowed !!!

#ive said it before and I'll say it again : #Pedro being able to have both strong hot dad energy AND sad meowmeow energy is too much he's too powerful #the last of us #like good lord... #joel miller #the last of us spoilers #pedro pascal

[pettyprocrastination]

The Revenant Wife

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of grief and death. 

Summary: Ellie knows very little of Joel and even less of the wife he had before the outbreak. When she finally meets you, its just as much as shock to her as it is to your husband. 

Word count: 1.6k

Note: ficlet is based off of this previous post about Joel getting separated from his wife during the outbreak and assuming you died until you find one another years later. Reader is described to look like Sarah. Title came from the ever lovely @djarin-junk​ <3

Tagging those I think would enjoy: @pedrostories​ @thesadvampire​ @joel-mlller @softanon​ @max--phillips​ @captainsamwlsn​ @hooplahoopla​ @moondirti​ 

-------------------------------

Ellie didn’t know that Joel had a wife. 

Granted, she didn’t know much about his old life at all. 

She knew he built things. That he had a brother named Tommy and a daughter named Sarah, but didn’t like to talk about the latter that much. In one fleeting conversation, full of mumbles as her eyes began to close while they rested under the night sky she heard him mention you but was far too gone to truly hear what he said. Nothing more than the vague rumble of his voice saying “my wife” before her eyes opened once more. 

“You’re married?”

She asks with such incredulous shock it sounds more like “somebody married you?” but girls at her age hardly ever have filters. 

“I was.” 

There’s the same bristle in his throat and far off look in his eyes as when she first asked about his daughter. An open answer but one that carries enough unsaid to tell Ellie of your fate. To warn her that she should change the subject or simply shut her mouth and go to sleep before plucking his raw nerve one too many times until he snaps- 

“What was she like?” 

But Joel learned early on that Ellie wasn’t one to follow warnings. 

“Kind.” His breath stutters. “But not a pushover- she didn’t take shit from anybody.” He stares up at the sky, feeling his chest grow tight and fingers twitch by his side until there’s a rustling, the girl next to him rolling over to face him and he turns to find Ellie peeking out from her sleeping bag with a smile. 

Damn this girl. 

“Not even from you?” 

Joel scoffs. “Especially from me. The amount of times she gave me and Tommy and earful-” he shakes his head, Ellie watches a smile grow on his face in silence, as if worried she may frighten it away. 

“Did she cook?” 

Ellie thinks of the stories the older kids would tell her. The ones who remembered life before the Outbreak, who told her of freshly baked pies on weekend and fluffy pancakes in the morning. 

Joel remembers the first time you tried to bake him a cake for his birthday back when he was sixteen. How he opened the door to your forlorn face and a store bought sheet cake in your hands because as your mother told him over the phone, you damn near burned the whole house down trying to bake for him as a surprise. 

“From time to time.” 

There was only so much she could get out of him before his voice became clipped and eyes full of an emotion she didn’t quite know the name of that he told her to get some rest. Leaving her with nothing to do but to stare at the sky and wonder about these stories in the shape of a woman who unveiled a little bit more about the mysterious man she traveled with. 

Of all the silence and secrets that made up the man that protected her, she created stories to fill them. Stories of Joel Miller, husband, father, brother and badass contractor that everybody loved.   Of his soldier brother, of his wife and their smiling daughter between them both. 

In Ellie’s mind, you didn’t work. 

But not in a ditzy lame way like some boring housewife. But just because you didn’t have to. 

Joel said that everybody loved contractors so that means he probably got paid like, a ton of money to build stuff for people so you got to stay at home all day. Ellie imagined your house to be ginormous. Maybe Joel made it himself for you when you guys first got married. It was big enough that when Joel came home everyday he’d call out your name and it’d echo through  the hall as you called him into the kitchen, where your daughter sat reading as you set dinner on the table. Sometimes you’d get upset if he came home late but then he’d kiss your cheek and you would roll your eyes but smile before you all sat down and ate as a family. 

Ellie imagines Joel’s daughter, she wonders if Sarah looks more like her mother than her father. 

Ellie wonders as the sleep takes over her body, if they could have been friends. 

When it happens, months later after she’s come to think of Joel as something akin to family and he thinks of her as something he can’t say out loud just yet, she’s shocked. She’s face to face with a woman holding her at gunpoint that looks nothing like the smiling mother she dreamt of during cold nights. 

You don’t match the stories Ellie made up in your head.

You’re mean. 

No. Mean isn’t the right word. 

Cold. Yes. you're very cold. 

Ellie watches in shock as you ask where they're headed, gun focused on the center of her chest while the two boys at your side point their own at Joel, who has yet to speak. 

She waits for him to answer, but he just stares at you in awe. The same man she’s seen kill and threaten to keep her safe day in and day out is rendered speechless until all he can do is utter your name and she realizes that he knows you. More than that, judging by the way he surrenders his gun to you with no fight, something she had never seen him do. 

You lift your head to look at him, the brim of your hat raises just enough to clear the shadow cast over your face and Ellie can finally see your eyes and the snarl on your face. 

You’re also very pretty.

“I won’t ask again.” 

The two boys standing on either side of you have your eyes. Same color and intensity, narrowed into slits like guard dogs waiting for an order and Ellie sees the way Joel stares at them. 

She wonders if Sarah had brothers. 

“Out west.” He manages. “Takin’ her to her family.” 

Your eyes move to her and she holds her hands higher in the air. 

“That true?” “What?” 

“Is he telling the truth?” 

The taller one, Duke, she had heard you call him, had already ripped the bag from her back and emptied its contents onto the ground, she had nothing else to hide from you. 

But then she sees something in your eyes. A concern for her that she hadn’t seen since Tess or Marlene. 

And she understands. 

“He’s telling the truth.” Ellie forces out. 

You watch her for a moment and there’s a moment of panic where she thinks you can see right through her lie. 

But then you lower your gun and jerk your head over your shoulder. 

“C’mon.” is all you say before you begin to walk away. The boys gawk at you for a moment before you give them a look of warning and they follow in your step, occasionally casting glances behind them at Joel and Ellie who follow suit. 

She’s quick to grab onto the sleeve of Joel’s jacket and pull with a harsh whisper as the other’s march forward. 

“You know this psycho?” 

Joel flinches at her voice as it pitches up. If any of you heard her, which he gathered you did because Ellie didn’t have an inside voice to save her fucking life, you didn’t care enough to react. 

Ellie whispers his name again. Insistent and angry for answers but he just keeps looking forward. He can’t take his eyes off of you or the boys ahead and it fills her with worry but she doesn’t know why. 

“She’s my wife.”

You lead them to a cottage. Its paint is chipping and the fence is reinforced with wiring around the perimeter but it looks like a home. She can vaguely hear the soft clucking of chickens nearby and there's a flash of fur behind the fence with a pair of pointed ears that duck away just as fast as she saw them. 

Ellie has seen the remnants of homes before the outbreak. The plates still stacked in the sink and the jacket still hung up on the hook. A story telling a family that once lived within its walls and is now nothing more than memories that ghosts along its foundation. 

But this one is real. It’s yours. 

 There is a rickety wooden table in the dining room. Each chair around it seems to have been brought from a different house and is varying shades of faded brown. You kick the leg of one and nod toward it.“Sit, both of you.”

Ellie looks to Joel before sitting. He follows suit, choosing the chair closest to her. 

“I’m gonna get some bandages for that leg-” 

Joel shifts forward. “I don’t need-” 

“I wasn’t fucking asking, Joel.” 

You’re not stronger than Joel, if she had to guess. You both look the same age, but she’s seen his strength, his violence, all done for her safety and knows if it came down to it, you might not win in a fight against him. 

But at your order, he sits back in his chair. 

You turn and set a shoulder on your son’s shoulder. 

At least. She thinks he’s your son. 

Softly spoken words are exchanged while the other keeps his eyes on Joel and his hand on his holster. The boy says something back in insistence, but you tilt your head and he nods. 

“If either of them try moving or taking anything.” You offer them one final look over your shoulder before slipping out of the room. “Shoot them.” 

They listen to your footsteps slowly retreat until there’s nothing but the subtle creak and groan of the wood floor beneath them. Ellie leans forward to look at Joel, setting her hands firmly on the dinner table in announcement. 

“Dude-” The young girl breathes out. “Your wife is a bitch.”

#revenant wife tag #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #this is just a little blurb because I havent written in a hot minute #mostly from ellies third pov so i hope the sort of juvenile internal thoughts make sense #joels wife is a sort of scary badass gal with a lil farm #joel miller x female reader #@ the blogs who asked to be tagged but had zero header or age in their bio: do better #tumblr please dont rearrange the order of this again im BEGGING #not pictured in the fic: joel punching duke in the face and wrestling the gun from his hands before the other twin shows up followed by you #and now joel has to grapple with the fact that 1. his wife is alive 2. she had children 3. he just sucker punched his own kid

[alien-magnolia]

please could i request a joel miller x female reader smut where they’re playing 21 questions and they’ve always flirted and she asks him awkward/sexual questions like “which way does your cock bend” and “what turns him on” etc etc, and it end with hella smut, lots of daddy usage and maybe squirting i’m a sucker for squirting 🫶

A/n: Hey :) sorry it took me a while to get back to you, but we here now. Hope u enjoy :) and feel free to send more requests

21 Questions

Tw: dom!coded Joel miller, subby!fem reader, innocence, corruption kink, bj, squirting, age gap

18+ minors DNI. Wc: 1.8k

A late evening in early June. 8 o’clock, and the sun shines over a rich dark green lawn, paired with a light blue suburban ranch home. The wind gently pushes the colorful windchimes near the oak door, on a porch entrance. Inside, a young woman. Outside, an older man, shuffling upon the porch.

—————————————————

The doorbell rings throughout the house, you rush quickly to open it. Tonight you had on a pure white mini-skirt, a lacy top to match, that showed off your cleavage perfectly. You were still a Virgin, yet something changed when you first met Joel. You wanted him, in a way that you haven’t wanted any guy you’ve met before. Besides, Joel was not just some guy. He was a man. With your meet-up with him tonight, you wanted him to know how you really felt. You just didn’t know how to do it.

Your small, dainty, hand opens the door. There he is. “Heya, sweetheart,” his thick Southern voice drawls across the living room. Your eyes fixate on his Adam’s Apple, you watch it with curiosity and intent. He catches your glance, chuckling, as you shyly invite him in.

He sits down on the couch, manspread. You gulp, telling your eyes not to draw over to his crotch. “How about a beer, Mr. Miller?,” you offer. “Please, sweetie. Call me Joel. Yeah, I’d like one.” You nod, as you scurry over to the kitchen to bring him a beer. You bend over as you are by the fridge, reaching in for a nice, cold beer for this incredibly attractive man in your living room.

You bring him the beer, and he thanks you, patting the spot next to him, on the couch. A cue for you to sit. You cross your legs, folding your hands over your lap, your diamond ring on your one hand shining. You were quite different from Joel. You did not spend all day in the dirt like he did. This aspect of him, only made you want him more.

“Hey. Um. Can we play twenty-one questions? Maybe get to know each other a little better?,” you gingerly ask. “Sure, hon. How about I start, yeah?”

You nod. “How old are you again?,” he asks. “I’m twenty-two. I know you’re a lot older than me,” you chuckle, looking at him. “Fifty-six,” he replies. You are in awe of this. This was a huge age gap. You start to feel a bit of wetness growing, spreading across your pink lacy thong.

You giggle, crossing your legs together to ease some of that tension. His chiseled arms, the brown — gray stubble on his face, his deep brown eyes, those soft, pink lips. You wanted to kiss him right then and there. You restrained yourself. “Can it be my turn now?,” you ask, batting your eyes at him, while your manicured fingers tap on your smooth, soft, thighs. “Sure, hon. Ask away,” his deep southern drawl just excites you even more.

“What’s your type? Do you like it if someone is younger than you?,” you pose the question as innocently as possible. He chokes on his beer, nervously chuckling, and wiping his mouth with a napkin. You beg him to tell you the truth. Something tells you that you would like the answer you find. “I do, yeah. Frankly, to be honest, hon, someone as young and sweet as you, is exactly my type.”

Your heart rate begins to quicken. You looked into his eyes, it felt as if they were pulling you in. You smile a bit, confessing that you were into him as well. More questions begin to arise, as he downs the beer you gave him, even tilting the bottle towards your mouth so you can have a little sip.

“What turns you on, Mr Miller?,” you say, out of the blue. The both of you were a little tipsy on the beer at this point. He chuckles. “You really wanna know, sweetie?” You nod eagerly. “Well, you see, I like good girls. Obedient, sweet, good girls that listen, wear nice lingerie, and know how to suck cock the right way,” he states, matter of factly.

Your face began to burn as you squirmed around in your seat on the couch. You failed to notice that he had moved a bit closer to you. “I can do that,” you whisper, now noticing how close he was to you.

He smiles, and then brings his face closer to yours, two pairs of lips meeting for a kiss. A long, gentle yet passionate kiss, you felt his tongue slip inside your mouth, his stubble tickling your cheeks in the most wonderful way.

“How about another question, sweetheart,” he starts. You nod. “Ya think that tonight, I can see what’s under that pretty skirt of yours?”

This was it. It was actually happening. “Yes. Please,” you moan a bit, breathily. “My good girl, using her manners. C’mon now. On your knees f’me,” he commands, sternly but softly. Fuck — you loved it.

Your tiny hand palms him through his jeans, feeling the bulge grow bigger and bigger with every stroke of your fingers. Soon enough, a tent in his jeans appears, and you want nothing more than to put your face in it. You look up at him. “Can I?” He nods. You begin to unzip his jeans, your small hands around his belt. Both jeans and belt fall to the floor, and you stare with hungry eyes at his tent in his boxers.

Your small hands gingerly pull off his boxers, revealing his already erect cock, with a good bush to match. You run your hands all over his v-line, tracing spots there, feeling his coarse hair. You shift around on your knees a bit. “Come up, sweetie. I got something better for ya.”

You get back onto the couch, as he lays down, his big arms behind his head, you couldn’t keep your eyes off him. His coarse hand comes up to hold your cheek. “Look at you. Gorgeous. Ready to suck my cock, sweetie?,” he asks, gentle. You nod.

Nervously, you move yourself closer to his cockhead, giving it little kisses, as you make eye contact with him. His deep moans can be heard, softly, like music to your ears.

You give his cock a bit of kisses, before taking it in your mouth, God — it was so soft, so warm, it sat perfectly in your throat!!! Periodically, his cock became firmer, harder, as you took it deep down your throat. You looked up at him for approval.

His eyes were closed, head up high, moaning, softly, you watched those little hairs on his chest slightly move with every of his motions.

His eyes meet yours. A toothy smile. You smile back, as you pamper his cock with some kisses. “Fuck, hun. Jus’ like that. Being such a good girl for me, yeah?,” his raspy voice startled you.

You shook your head, giggling, as his large and hairy hand came up to give your face a few reassuring rubs and nods. You continue your gentle kisses and licks on his cockhead, tracing all three, bulging, prominent veins on the sides.

He stops you. You are confused —- what if he didn’t like your head anymore?! Could you have done something wrong?

“Sweets. Hows about I put it in, yeah? Wanna see how nice and tight and pussy this is,” he gruffly says, waiting for your approval.

You nod, looking at him with those sweet, doe, eyes, as he stands up, towering over you. With one big knee pressing into your thigh, his hands grab onto your thighs and roughly pull you forward. One hand on each side, caging you into him. You’re brought in for yet another kiss, longer this time, sweeter, the both of you smile into it.

You feel his bearded, rough cheek, against yours. Heaven. With that, you see him pull out a box of condoms.

“Joel. No need. I’m on the pill,” you softly say. He looks up, in shock. “Gonna let me, uh…,” he was about to start, then hesitates. “Breed me?,” you finish for him. There was that toothy smile again.

“Open f’me, sweets.” You do as said, your plump thighs spreading on the bed, ready for him to inspect. You were his little cow, all ready to be bred and pumped full of cum, until she couldn’t walk!!

“Fuck. Lemme see how good this cunt’s gonna take me, yeah?,” he asks, a predatory gaze in his eyes. Well, you certainly did feel like his prey. You feel his hard length slide into you, pulsing, hot. It felt like you were filled up to the brim. He was around eight inches, it felt like. You could feel that warm, round sack against your puffy lips. He starts slow, reaching in deep, causing you to shudder as his tip touches the tip of your cervix :)

Soon enough, his hairy thighs slap against yours, as he moves at a bit of a quicker pace. You feel his cock pulsating and twitching inside you, it just turns you on so much!! You squeeze tighter and tighter around him. You feel his veiny hands trail around your front to grip at your soft breasts momentarily, before returning to their guiding place on your hips, his grip so tight on you. Oh God — he was strong.

His grip tightened, rough, calloused fingers on the plush of your hips, tracing over those stretch marks :) You were glad that he liked them.

“Feel you squeezin’ me, princess. Tell me what ya want. Go on,” you hear his deep and a bit slurred voice above you. He must have been absolutely delirious by how tight you were around him. “Want you to breed me, Joel …please,” you whisper out in a breathy moan. You hear his chuckle — you loved how deep his voice was.

“Stay still, babygirl. Gonna give you my cum, gonna - fuck, make you mine, gonna fill you up,” he barely moans out, he was so close, you felt it. You both came at the same time, you were seeing white, hot pleasure, he was seeing the same. You felt a bit of cum spray out onto him, onto those brown, curly hairs all over him, that you loved so much. “Honey. Did you just squirt?,” you hear him ask.

You blush. What if he didn’t like it!? “Hey. Princess.” He must’ve felt your anxiety. “Calm down, yeah? I think it’s cute. Reckon, I’m glad I came over here tonight. You showed me a good time,” he gently says, as you smile up at him, closing your eyes as he gives you a little forehead kiss.

“Can we do this again?,” you sheepishly ask, as he wipes you down with a towel, and then leaning back onto the couch, patting his thigh as a signal for you to come cuddle. You oblige, laying your head on his hairy chest.

“‘’Course, hun. We definitely will.”

#liz’s masterlist #liz writes 🖤 #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #dom!joel miller #joel tlou x reader #joel miller x hyperfem!reader #joel miller hot #joel miller self insert

[skateboreds]

A Slice of Orange

chp. 1

*FKA The Orange Slice*

pairing: joel miller x reader

summary: The most dangerous man in town has been staring at you nonstop, but keeps his distance until the night he walks you home...

tags: smut, medium burn, sexy stuff starts in chp.3, age difference, M/F, a lot of goddamn eye contact that turns into porn, porn w plot, zaddy joel, hand/finger kink, praise kink, mild blood in later chps, TLOU pt.II, NO Y/N

notes: Set at the beginning of The Last of Us Part II when Joel and Ellie live in the Jackson, Wyoming community, a few years after TLOU part I. Deviates from canon apart from that. Characterizations based mostly on the first game.

AO3 link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45087460/chapters/113423947#workskin

CHAPTER ONE

This guy’s a real fucking asshole, isn’t he?

The thought forms while you take in Tate, the man who runs Jackson’s trading post. He stands there sneering, withered inside and out. He has always been a condescending short-changer and a grade A, absolute-mother-fucking, asshole.

“These boots are worth at least twenty, Tate.” you say with as much venom in your voice as you can muster.

The boots were old, but the leather was still good and you weren’t walking away without fifteen cards at least. Rent was due soon and you’ve been skipping meals more often than you’d like in order to make sure you had enough.

“I figured you were stupid sweetheart, but not that stupid. Those piece of shit boots are barely worth five.” he drawls, leaning over the counter towards you.

Five!? Five was barely anything, five was a handful of buttons at best. He smirked, clearly on an ego high. That smirk, the smirk of men who didn’t think you had a place to fight in this new hardened world, all too familiar, set you off. If you were smart, you’d keep your mouth shut and take what you could, but anger propels you to take a step towards him, to show him you’re not afraid.

“And I figured the most disgusting thing I had ever seen was a bloater with half its brains blown out till I saw you.”

Tate’s face grimaces and you prepare to have your boots thrown in your face when a short laugh comes from the entrance of the cramped shop. You both whip your heads, craning yours to look almost directly behind you. All the anger fades out of you as you see him. Large, broad shoulders, faded flannel shirt pushed up his forearms to show tan skin and corded muscles. You swallow dryly. 

Joel Miller. 

He’s leaning against the open doorjamb, arms folded over his chest. His face is hard, eyes cold as they always are, but there is a small smile on his lips. You didn’t hear him come in, silent, always so silent. It’s happened more times than you can count. You’d be getting a drink, or on a run to the general store, and the air would change. People would get quiet and careful all of a sudden, the only clue you ever got that he was around before you saw him. And then you’d spot him, sidling up at the bar, or filling a pack with supplies. His massive frame in his usual tan outdoorsmen jacket, his salt and pepper beard and thick waves of dark hair, his quick eyes looking at you. Why were they always looking at you? You wondered this constantly. Were you making it up? You didn’t think like you were, you could feel his eyes on you when you were in the same room, never for long, but always impossibly intense. You wondered if you bothered him. If the flame in his regard was because he disliked you, like a lot of men in this town did. You were used to that; you were a loudmouth, known for telling off anyone who got in your way, and here that happened quite a bit. When you’re a girl and you don’t know how to fight, you learn to scare people off with your words. And it usually works, until it doesn’t. Like with Tate. Which brings you back to the moment you’re in.  

You have the satisfaction of seeing Tate stiffen with fear, his face blanching as Joel eases himself off the doorframe and slowly approaches you both. He stops when he reaches your left shoulder, your arms almost brushing as he places three plump, dead pheasants on the counter. Your body has two very strong reactions to this. Firstly, electricity zings on your skin at the lost touch. Secondly, your stomach growls at the sight of the birds and how long they’d keep you fed. You hope he can’t hear the latter.

“I’ll take fifty for these, and twenty-five for the boots.”

Your eyes widen. So do Tate’s.

“Oh, you can’t be serious, Joe-“

Joel cuts Tate a look that stops him dead in his tracks. He stares back at Joel, trying to muster half the intimidation the man besides you holds and fails miserably. He takes too long to move though, so Joel takes one step forward and Tate backs away.

“Fine.” is all Tate says as he grabs the dead birds and your boots and walks to the back of the store.

You’re only aware that you’re gaping at Joel when he slowly steps back and turns to take you in. You snap your mouth shut, realizing it’s been hanging open like a beached fish.

You don’t know what to say so you just stare back at him. Several moments pass.

“You run your mouth to everyone in this town yet got nothing to say to me?” he finally speaks.

If anyone else had said that to you, you would have flipped them off. But Joel’s eyes are different now, not warm, but not ice cold like before either. They seem curious, and that amused smile is tugging at the edge of his mouth again.

“Th-Thank you.” You clear your throat trying to cover the embarrassing stutter that escapes your slightly trembling lips. “But you didn’t have to do that. I can do just fine on my own.”

“I’m sure you can.” is all he replies, eye boring into yours.

You’re pinned there, under his gaze. This is the closest you’ve ever been to him, the most you’ve ever heard him speak. You always wondered what color his eyes were, they looked brown from afar. But there were several times, caught in a slice of sunlight, that something lighter seemed to gleam. Looking at him now, you can make out the shape of them better, surprisingly sweet for such a hardened face. The color remains muddled though, his face backlit and mostly in shadow as you look up at him, a full head taller than you. You haven’t wanted to admit to yourself just how much of a giant crush you have on this handsome man double your age, but standing before him like this, it feels undeniable. You think about him a lot. When you go into town and he’s there, when you go into town and he’s not. When you let yourself write about him in your tattered journal. When you go to sleep, mostly, and whenever you dip your hands below your waistband in your small bed. That, you’ve done an embarrassing amount. You have the same fantasy on loop, of his fingers and what they’d feel like if they worked between your thighs… You don’t want to be thinking of all of this while you stand before him, but you can’t help it and you’re left feeling like he can read it in your thoughts. Like all your hopeless, stupid yearnings are written all over your face and he’s going to see them and laugh out loud. Your cheeks start to burn hot and red and the curiosity in his eyes grows sharper, almost…hungry.

You’re holding your body so rigidly you feel as if you might snap when Tate, thankfully, returns. You are released from Joel’s gaze as he accepts the wad of ration cards that Jackson uses as currency. He turns to leave and gestures at you to follow. You’re surprised at this but you oblige, pausing only briefly to stick out your tongue at Tate. He flips you off as you hasten after Joel into the dim twilight.

The dusty road has a good amount of people on it, and you’re very aware of the fact that you’re now walking alongside the Joel Miller. A few eyes look you up and down as you both pass, no doubt wondering what the likes of you is doing with the scariest man in town.

You follow him wordlessly, not paying any attention to where he is leading you, or why, taking in the wooden buildings around you instead, most streets lined with string bulbs, illuminating the dusk. However, there aren’t as many lights on this side of town, closer to the outskirts, and the indigo outline of snowcapped mountains looms in the distance. Suddenly, Joel pulls something from a side pocket of his pack. In his large hand, he begins peeling a lopsided orange. You can’t help but eye how long his fingers are, working the rind off the fruit. And instead of throwing the peels on the dirt road, like most would, he places each piece into his pocket. You notice this, how gently he handles the fruit, how careful he is not to drop a single scrap of skin. Unusual. His meticulous fingers bring you back to your recurring fantasy. You’re snapped out of it when he then breaks the orange into parts and extends one half out to you. You look at him surprised. He looks back, nonchalant. 

Why is Joel Miller offering you half an orange?

Despite your confusion, you can’t help but want it. Fruit isn’t plenty here in the mountains, and oranges have always been your favorite. So, you reach out and take the half from him. Your fingers brush as you grab it, and you feel like you’ve been electrocuted. He pulls back quickly and looks ahead as he pops a slice into his mouth. Slowly, you do the same, trying to hide the tremble in your hand. It’s pretty fucking good. As far as oranges go, this one’s especially sweet. You can’t help the slight smile that pulls on the edge of your lips, but you drop it before he can notice.

You both walk in the growing dark, eating orange slices, when you realize if you are ever going to speak to this man again this might be your only chance.

“It must be nice to have everyone here afraid shitless of you, to know you can make any trade you want” you say truthfully as you pull a fiber of white off your last slice, and carefully pocket it.

He doesn’t answer you.

For some reason this bothers you, mostly because you don’t want him to think that you’re like everyone else, terrified of him. Because you’ve seen him be gentle, mostly when he was with his daughter Ellie, but also moments like now. The perfectly peeled orange half was proof of that. You knew there was something tender in him, deep down. You speak before you think.

“Well, they might be afraid of you…but I’m n-not.”

It comes out sounding like a lie, because it sort of is. You are terrified of him, but for very different reasons from everyone else. Joel stops now and turns to look at you, arching a dark brow.

“Is that so?”

You don’t know how to say anything that could even remotely intimidate this man, so you just set your jaw and stare back with as much bite as you dare to give someone with a hunting rifle slung over their back.

He smirks at this, eyes dancing, and pulls out a wad of card rations, handing it to you.

“Your cut.”

You completely forgot about those, you realize, having followed him just because he asked you to. Your face burns again with the embarrassment of this, following a grown man you hardly knew down winding, dim streets to who knows where. You can’t believe how stupid you feel around him. You look away so he can’t see you blush twice in one day and in doing so you realize where you both stand. To your right is Mabel’s shop, a kind woman who accepts minimal pay for clothing repair. And above that is a series of tiny rooms in a hallway, rooms she rents out to people without much money or family. The one directly on top of the shop front, facing the street with one small square window, is yours. It takes you a second to register that he has brought you home. That he knows where you live. Your thoughts stop and then sputter into chaos.

How does he know where you live??

You open your mouth to question him when, he pops his last slice into his smirking mouth and saunters off without a word of goodbye, his long legs moving swiftly.

How does he know where you live!!!!!!!!!!??????

You try to figure out whether you should be freaked out or impressed by his knowledge when you look down at your rations, expecting to see twenty-five but counting too high. Your brows furrow and you count again, getting the same number. You look up, taken fully aback at his retreating figure, heading towards the residential part of the city.

You’re not sure what it means, and you’re not sure why, but for some reason that you know isn’t a mistake, Joel Miller gave you fifty cards.

#joelmillerxreader #joelmiller x reader #joel miller x you #joelmiller #joel x reader #smut #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller hot #joel miller sexy #joel miller fanfiction #joel x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller/reader #joel miller/you #the last of us part 2 fanfiction #tlou2 #joel miller daddy #joel miller smut #tlousmut #a slice of orange #the orange slice

[yurizerdu]

I literally squealed so loud when I found out you can unlock skins and play as Jackson Joel in part 1 😭😭 I can gawk at this old man from every angle

#i dont wanna play part 2 but hot damn older joel is *chef kiss* #joel miller #game joel miller #jackson joel #jackson joel miller #joel the last of us #game joel #the last of us #tlou

[softiedingo]

*looking disrespectfully* god have mercy on me, I'm not that strong

#jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal #pedropascal #the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #joel miller #joel tlou #tim rockford #2023 was the year this man got so damn broad #i'm looking in the most disrespectful and respectful way possible #god have mercy on me #and bless this hot man #softiedingo

[softiepedrito]

Another version if you all don't want the bnw version.

#pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x you #pascalispunk #the last of us #joel miller #pedrito #the mandalorian #dave york #pedro pascal is hot #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal pictures

[hopplessilse]

Fetish masterlist

Teacher!joel x f!reader 18+ explicit minors dni

Summary: Mr. Miller has been your favorite teacher since he taught you last semester. You've always had a crush on him, but this semester things changed, you have his attention, and you feel the energy spurting from both of you. Would only be like an innocent crush on your teacher? Or could it be something else? Could he be yours? Or it could end in a tragedy?

Warnings: Angs, smut, teacher-student, age gab (reader in her early 20's, joel in his late 40's) pet names, sexual fantasies, pov. Joel, Pov. reader, flirtation, slow burn (not so slow), they are both two consenting adults, Overthinking 24/7, abuse of power, abuse of trust, Being discovered, unrequited love, fear of being found out. Each chapter would have their own warnings.

The exact number of chapters is still unfinished.

I. Hello Mr. Miller

II. Eyes don't lie (new)

III. Private Lessons

IV. The Cabin

V. It's our secret

VI. Lies have names

VII. Tightrope

#joel miller fic #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fanfiction #smut #joel tlou #x reader #joel x f!reader #joel x female reader #joel x you #joel x reader #teacher! joel #teacher crush #teacher attachment #teacher x student #hot teacher

[proxima-writes]

title: in a feud with her neighbor

bonus scenes now available

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 5621

summary:

Five times you think Joel Miller is the worst neighbor ever, and the one time he isn’t.

author’s note: this is so self-indulgent. i hope you guys enjoy it! if you like this work, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment because they make my day 💕

special thanks to the angels who helped with ideas: @dreamingofdaddydin @jksprincess10 @mydailyhyperfixations @funnygirlthatgab

additional warnings/tags: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), explicit language, no use of y/n, story contains visual graphics, everyone pretend the 12 ft skeleton was available in 2003 and you could stream TV shows, no sarah, no outbreak, neighbor feuds, enemies to lovers, oral (explicit f receiving, non-explicit m receiving), semi-public sex, making out in a pool, reader is a menace and arguably the bad neighbor here, unprotected p in v, use of sex toys, praise kink, pet names, dirty talk. let me know if any are missing!

Joel Miller is the worst neighbor ever. 

Your issues with him started on your first Halloween in the neighborhood. You had moved into your new home a few months prior, thrilled that you finally managed to escape the horrors of apartment living. You were now the proud owner of a little single story two bedroom craftsman style home, complete with fenced in backyard and a pool. 

You loved your little house and the neighborhood was ideal, quiet but tight knit. The neighbor to your left, an elderly woman named Betty, had invited you over for tea and cookies and given you the lowdown on the neighborhood gossip.

The neighbor to your right, Joel Miller, she said, was a wonderful man. Polite, kind, and not too hard on the eyes either. You hadn’t met him yet, but with a glowing review like that, you couldn’t wait until you did.

She had also mentioned that the neighborhood goes all out for Halloween. They even hosted a contest for the best decorated house. Your mind already raced with the possibilities.

You loved Halloween. In Texas, the stifling heat finally eased around that time, dropping to a slightly more tolerable range in the 80s with cooler nights. You loved seeing all the displays in the stores and how abandoned storefronts would be overtaken by whole companies dedicated to Halloween. You watched all the horror movies you could and on the weekends you’d seek out local fall festivals because you’re a sucker for candy apples and funnel cake.

No one ever decorated at the apartment complex you previously lived in, so you were extra excited to decorate your house and yard. You bought fake tombstones and plastic skeletons for the yard, spider webs and little ghosts to hang in the trees. You carved two pumpkins to set on either side of the steps leading up to your front door and made little ghost statues out of tomato cages, foam balls, and white fabric. You even strung purple lights through your hedges. 

You were totally going to win the decorating contest. You were confident that you would.

Until you woke up Halloween morning and Joel Miller had somehow decorated his entire home in the time that you had been sleeping, blissfully unaware.

The man had somehow managed to set up an entire army of skeletons, including a handmade wooden jail stuffed with ones trying to escape. There were some posed on the house itself, climbing up the sides and the roof. He had some coming out of the ground, red spotlights fixed on them for an eerie glow. But perhaps most impressive of all was the twelve foot skeleton with glowing red eyes that was posed near the makeshift jail, holding the door open like it was releasing the trapped undead soldiers.

Joel Miller had the motherfucking twelve foot skeleton. You wanted one of those so bad but it was always sold out. You checked every nearby Home Depot for months trying to find one and here Joel Miller has one, taunting you.

He won the decorating contest, sweeping the victory from right under your feet.

It may seem silly, but that was the moment you decided Joel Miller was the worst neighbor ever.

When you were buying your first home, you had been meticulous in calculating your finances in order to comfortably afford the purchase. You did not, however, account for having to repair your air conditioning system within less than a year of moving in. This made a significant dent in your savings, which led you to cut your expenses elsewhere.

One such expense was your internet. Why? Because it turns out Joel Miller, asshole neighbor, doesn’t password protect his router and you can just use his.

It’s not like he would notice.

_________________

Joel stares at his internet bill in confusion. This is the third month in a row that he’s been charged for going over his data allowance. That doesn’t even make sense. He’s the only person in his house and he only uses the internet on his phone to check the news and sometimes play Candy Crush. It’s why he got the lowest data plan in the first place.

He tries to think of what he could be doing differently, but comes up short. Hell, he’s not even home most of the day. He works long hours at different contracting jobs, so his free time is spent watching TV (cable, not connected to the internet), and sleeping.

But then it hits him. The overage charges never happened until you moved in. 

Joel powers up his ancient laptop and has to Google search what a router is. Turns out, he doesn’t have a password set on his. Which means, if his hunch is correct, you’ve just had free access to his internet this whole time.

He learns how to set a password and, more importantly, he learns how to change the name of his router. 

He needs to send a message, after all.

_________________

You’re about to start another episode of Grey’s Anatomy, courtesy of your friend generously sharing her Netflix password, when you receive an error message. 

No internet connectivity. Try again?

The little WiFi connection icon is missing from your toolbar. You investigate further, opening the list of options and scanning them for Joel’s, conveniently titled Miller.

But instead you find a new name.

GetYourOwnWiFi. And it’s password protected.

“Son of a bitch,” you hiss.

Joel Miller’s tree is always dropping debris in your yard. The limbs have grown over your shared fence line and on windy days you have to deal with extra pool clean up on top of the usual mess it makes of your yard, twigs and leaves ruining your perfectly manicured backyard oasis. 

You’ve asked him to trim the branches. Left him notes on his door and in his mailbox, but he still hasn’t done it.

Today you’re sending a new kind of message.

He’s going to wish he’d listened when you asked nicely. 

_________________

“What the fuck,” Joel growls when he gets home just after sunset. There’s piles of leaves and twigs littering his front porch, almost to the point that he can’t see the concrete slab beneath. 

There’s no way this just happened through the force of nature. It’s been a perfectly clear day in Austin and besides, there’s no trees at the front of his house for this kind of mess to fall from.

Which can only mean…

His eyes spot the bright pink Post-It note stuck to his door and he curses under his breath as he stomps up the porch steps and rips it down.

Here. Clean your own mess up for once. 

xoxo

Joel crumbles the note in his fist, taking deep breaths as he heads for the garage to grab a broom and a trash bag.

He’ll get you back.

He always does. 

You love animals, especially cats. Unfortunately, being allergic, you don’t have the option to have one of your own all the time. 

When you spot the first neighborhood stray, your heart lights up with excitement. It’s a little black and white cat with bright green eyes that walks right up to you while you’re getting your mail, winding its lithe body between your legs and purring against you. You stoop to pet it, mentally reminding yourself to wash your hands before you touch your face, otherwise your eyes would be itchy for hours.

“Hello, little baby,” you murmur, rubbing a hand down the length of its back. “How are you?” The cat gives a strong meow in response. “Oh, are you hungry? Let’s go see if I have anything I can give you as a treat.”

Back inside your house, you locate a can of tuna and dump it into a small plastic bowl. The cat sits patiently on the porch, tail flicking in anticipation. It hops down and shoves its little face into the bowl as soon as it’s within reach. 

“So cute,” you say, giving it one last pat on its back before returning inside.

_________________

There’s a cat sitting on Joel’s porch, watching him as he parks his truck. It’s the second time this week there’s been a cat lurking around his property. The first one he found out in the backyard, tearing up his flower beds.

The neighborhood had never had an issue with cats before, so he has a sneaking suspicion that you’re, once again, the root cause of his suffering. 

His suspicions are confirmed when he sees you on the porch one day, laying out a row of plastic bowls filled with what he assumes is cat food. At first he’s annoyed that he’s right, it is you feeding the cats, which is why they’ve been terrorizing his yard, but then you turn around and he’s struck by how utterly gorgeous you are. 

This is the first time Joel’s ever actually seen you. He’s usually out of the house before dawn and back after sunset, which must not coincide with your schedule since you’ve never run into each other. He remembers Betty, the older woman who lives to your left, telling him about meeting you.

“Gorgeous girl, that one. You two would probably hit it off,” she said as he hung a picture frame for her.

“Don’t go playin’ matchmaker, Betty,” he replied. 

But damn, seeing you now in a pair of little shorts that hug your hips and ass just right and a tight white t-shirt that shows off the tiniest bit of skin above the waist of your shorts is making him think he should have taken Betty up on her word.

Joel’s so distracted that he almost misses the way the cat on his porch hits one of his planters with his paw, knocking the ceramic over and spilling dirt all over the ground.

“Fuck!”

_________________

There’s a note on your door the next morning, a torn piece of paper with a familiar scrawl of messy handwriting that could only belong to one person.

Stop feeding the cats or you owe me new plants.

-Joel

The note actually makes you giggle. Betty sees you on your porch and beckons you over to hers.

“What’s got you gigglin’ like a schoolgirl?” The older woman asks.

“What? Nothing,” you reply too quickly.

“Wouldn’t happen to be a note from a certain tall, strong, and handsome young neighbor of yours?”

“No, definitely not.” 

She smirks at you. “You better quit terrorizin’ that poor man, honey.”

“Now, Betty, where would the fun be in that?” You say brightly as you head back to your house, the sound of her laughter following you through the door. 

There’s a package on Joel’s porch when he gets home from work. He doesn’t remember ordering anything, but he wouldn’t put it past himself.

He brings it inside without thinking twice or checking the label, chucking it on the counter with the rest of his mail as he searches for a box cutter in his junk drawer.

Joel cuts through the packing tape, lifting the flaps and rifling through the packing paper to pull out the contents.

It’s another box, light pink with the image of a hot pink u-shaped device on the top. The text across the top reads REMOTE VIBRATOR in black script.

He nearly drops the box in surprise, fumbling it in his hands. He’s certain he didn’t order this. 

Joel pulls the shipping box back towards him, keeping an eye on the vibrator like it might grow legs and run away. He flips the lid over to inspect the shipping label, his eyebrows rising as he reads your name and home address instead of his.

He looks at the toy again, mind whirling with images of you on your back, remote in hand as you bring yourself pleasure. He coughs, clearing his head and adjusts himself in his jeans.

He searches the junk drawer for a sheet of paper and a pen.

_________________

You’re staring at the delivery confirmation email from Lovelies, panic creeping down your spine. It says that your new toy has been delivered but there’s no package in your mailbox or on your porch. You’ve checked everywhere.

Which means it was either delivered to one of your neighbors or someone stole it.

If you’re being honest, you’d rather someone stole it than to have to go knock on Betty or, god forbid, Joel’s door to ask if they accidentally received your sex toy delivery. Your cheeks heat at even the thought of Joel knowing what you ordered. You head back inside empty handed.

Later, when you open your door to feed the cats, you’re surprised to find a box on your welcome mat. You set the bowls of food down and carry it inside, your excitement mounting. 

But when you open the box, you’re mortified to find a torn piece of paper on top of the packing material, Joel Miller’s familiar handwriting on the sheet.

Interesting choice

-Joel

“Fucking asshole,” you mumble, crumbling the note and tossing it to the side. You pull your new toy from its box and turn it on. “Huh. Fully charged.”

Your jerk of a neighbor won’t ruin your night if this little gadget has anything to say about it.

It’s Joel’s one day to sleep in and you’ve been blasting your music all fucking morning. He’s already got his head shoved under his pillow but the sound still filters through, ruining his chances of any extra hours of sleep to make up for his lack of it during the week.

He rolls out of bed with a heavy sigh, scrubbing a hand across his beard. He heads downstairs to make coffee, the heavy beat of your music chasing him through the house. He can feel the beginnings of a headache pulsing behind his eyes.

Joel tries to tune it out. Really. He does. As much as the two of you butt heads, he doesn’t mean anything by it, not really. He doesn’t want to be an asshole, nor is he trying to be one. 

But if you don’t turn your music down soon he’s going to lose his fucking mind.

He gives you another hour. He’s feeling generous. But when the music just keeps playing, he finally snaps. 

Joel shoves his feet into the work boots beside the door, paying little mind to the fact that he’s not wearing socks. In fact, he’s still in his sleep pants and ratty old t-shirt but he’s too far gone to care.

Once he’s in front of your door, he bangs on the wood with his fists. He waits for a response and when he doesn’t get one, probably since you can’t fucking hear him, he bangs again. There’s movement from the corner of his eye and he turns his head to find Betty watching him, lips tilted in a smirk.

“You okay with this?” Joel asks, gesturing vaguely to your house to indicate the noise level inside. 

“Don’t be such a party pooper,” she replies before shuffling inside. He turns back to the door to pummel it with his fists again but he’s surprised to find it open.

“Howdy, neighbor,” you say, eyebrow raised and arms crossed beneath your breasts.

Which were currently covered by the tiniest bikini top he’s ever seen. His eyes trail lower, over the expanse of your stomach to the matching bikini bottoms that peek out past the folded waist of your denim shorts.

“Uh,” he says, followed by a strained cough. “Hi.”

_________________

Joel Miller is standing on your porch dressed in a threadbare t-shirt and gray pajama bottoms that sit low on his hips, a strip of soft tan belly peeking out from above the waistband when he stretches an arm up to run his fingers through his dark, messy curls.

Christ, you think. The man is prettier than Betty gave him credit for.

“Can I help you?” You ask. His eyes snap from where they’d been lingering on your chest and you straighten your back just the slightest bit at the knowledge he’d been checking you out. 

Joel clears his throat. “Your music is way too loud.”

You roll your eyes. “Does it hurt?”

“Does…what hurt?”

“Always having a stick up your ass.” 

Betty barks a laugh from her porch and Joel’s head turns so fast you have whiplash just watching him. He throws his hands up.

“Who’s side are you on, Betty?!” He shouts. 

You’re bent over, laughing so hard your stomach hurts and tears form at the corners of your eyes. When you finally catch your breath and return your attention to Joel, he’s got his hands on his hips and an impressive furrow between his brows.

“Listen, maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I’m about to go out by the pool and have a drink. Wanna join?” You ask. 

“I don’t have my suit with me.”

“Well good thing you’re just right next door, huh? Go get it. I’ll leave the door unlocked,” you tell him before shutting the door in his face.

_________________

Joel returns to your house thirty minutes later, showered and wearing his swim trunks and a new t-shirt. He wipes his sweaty hands against his chest, not entirely sure why he’s nervous. He’s just having a drink with his annoying neighbor to hash out all the issues. No big deal.

Your music is still playing when he enters your house, giving the door a courtesy knock before letting himself in. The front door opens directly into the main living space, a large sectional couch facing a TV mounted between two windows to his right and a dining nook to his left. Your kitchen is nestled in the corner, just past an opening to a hallway that he assumes leads to the bedrooms. Your place is bursting with colors and textures and patterns, from the floral blanket draped over your velvet couch to the leaf patterned wallpaper and natural stone backsplash in your kitchen. You have tea towels hanging from your stove that say “ANOTHER ONE BITES THE CRUST” with a picture of a pizza, and an impressive looking bar cart that houses a variety of liquor bottles and glassware.

There’s a splash from outside and Joel sees that the sliding glass door to your patio is open. He steps onto the concrete deck, surveying the backyard oasis you’ve created for yourself. The pool is on the smaller side but still, it’s a pool, and Joel’s a little jealous of it. You’ve got chaise loungers lined near the edge and matching chairs that surround a little fire pit further out in the yard. There’s string lights hung from the shade canopy that extends from your house. 

You pop up from beneath the surface, your hair slicked back from your face and little droplets of water clinging to your skin. Joel stands there, unsure of what to do, until you swim to the ledge closest to him and drape your arms over it, regarding him with keen eyes.

“Hi,” you say. He swallows, the nerves returning as he tries desperately to not let his gaze fall below your neck.

“Hey,” he replies. 

“There’s beer in the cooler. Grab me one?” You ask before ducking back beneath the surface. He can see you swim towards the edge of the pool that the loungers face. He grabs two beers as instructed, popping the tops with the bottle opener fixed to the lid of the cooler. You break the surface once more, swimming over to where he sits on the end of one loungers.

Joel passes you the beer and you tip it towards him in thanks before taking a deep pull, your lips wrapped around the lip of the bottle and distracting him monumentally. 

“So, you’re the Joel Miller, huh?” You ask. “Tell me about yourself.”

The two of you talk for what feels like ages. He learns that you’re a software engineer and you work a typical 9-5 schedule, which is why he’s never caught you around the neighborhood before. You don’t like to be outdoors much, preferring reading and catching up on your Netflix shows. You have two brothers, both of whom are older than you and live on the opposite side of the country, but you visit them around Christmas. You love animals, but have major allergies so you settle for fleeting moments with the neighborhood strays and occasionally watching your best friend’s dog when she goes out of town. 

He tells you about his work as a contractor, which he’s been doing since he was fresh out of high school and had no idea what to do with his life. He talks about his brother Tommy, how they work together on most projects and they want to start their own contracting business, but that’s a dream for another day. He mentions he’s more of a dog person than a cat person, especially because he has a grudge against the orange neighborhood cat that is still tearing up his flowerbeds. 

Joel loves the way you laugh, bright and full bodied as you toss your head back and bring a hand to your chest each time. You talk with your hands a lot, which is funny because you keep letting go of the pool ledge and scrambling to grab it again when gravity pulls you down in the water. If he doesn’t give enough detail in an answer, you’re not shy about asking him for more information, like when he said his favorite color was blue.

“Okay, but what shade of blue?” You asked.

“Just…blue?” Joel asked, clearly not understanding your question.

You rolled your eyes. “Men. I like lavender. Not just purple. Purple is a range of shades.”

“I guess…navy?”

“Now you’re getting somewhere, big guy!”

The conversation lulls as you share your drinks in companionable silence. The Texas sun bears down on his back, his t-shirt sticking uncomfortably to his sweat slick skin. He bites the bullet and reaches behind his head to tug the damp fabric off, leaving him in just his swim trunks. He doesn’t miss the appreciative once-over you give him.

You extend a hand to him. “Help me out?””

Joel grasps your hand in his, marveling for a moment how small it is in his broad palm. He’s distracted enough that he doesn’t notice the michievous look on your face, or the way you plant your feet to the pool wall for leverage.

You give a sharp tug with both hands and he goes toppling into the pool with a surprised shout.

_________________

You’re laughing so hard you can barely catch your breath. The look on Joel’s face as you tugged him into the pool will be burned into your memory for years to come. You’d been waiting all afternoon for the man to take his shirt off, not only because you were admittedly dying to see what was hiding beneath the fabric, but also because you wanted exact a little neighborly revenge for stomping over to your house to tell you your music was too loud.

You’re feeling mighty accomplished, right up until you feel a hand wrap around your ankle and you get pulled beneath the surface with no warning. 

You open your eyes, chlorine stinging them as you see Joel torpedo towards the shallow end of the pool. You give chase, breaking the surface with a gasp.

“You asshole–”

Joel cuts you off by wrapping an arm around your waist, tugging you close and tipping his head down to capture your lips with his. He kisses like a man starved and he tastes like sunshine and chlorine and the beer he’d been drinking as his tongue slides hungrily against yours. He uses his arm to press your body to his, but it’s not close enough.

You wrap your arms around his neck and lift your legs to circle his waist, your center grinding against his rapidly hardening length. Joel trails his hands up and down your back, stopping to grab rough handfuls of your ass as he groans against your mouth.

“Fuck,” he curses. “This little fuckin’ bikini has been torturin’ me all day.”

“Why don’t you just take it off then?” You offer. He pulls back to watch your face as his fingers find the strings of your bottoms beneath the water, giving both sides a quick tug until you feel the material fall away. His hand creeps up your back, pulling at the strings holding your top together around your back and neck until they, too, fall away.

Joel walks the two of you forward until your back collides with the rough stone of the pool wall.  He presses a muscular thigh between your legs, boxing you in with his body. Your hips jerk at the sudden pressure and friction against your bare pussy, a moan slipping from your lips as Joel presses kisses to your jaw and neck, nipping the delicate skin with his teeth.

“You gotta be quiet, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your skin, the deep timbre of his voice making a shiver dance down your spine despite the Texas heat. “Those sounds are just for me, isn’t that right?”

You nod your head quickly and he rewards you with another toe curling kiss. Your hips rock against his thigh and he swallows every little whimper as his hands explore your body.

“Joel,” you whine. His fingers pinch and pull your nipples before he soothes them with sweet circles of his calloused thumb.

“What’s the matter, baby?” He asks. One of his hands slides across your thigh and your breath hitches as he brings it dangerously close to your pussy before trailing it back down. “You need somethin’?”

“Need you to touch me.”

“That right? You want me to take care of that pretty little pussy?”

“Mhm,” you hum. “Please.”

“So polite. Where’s all that attitude from earlier, hm?” Joel asks, sarcasm dripping from every word. You narrow your eyes at him.

“I can be rude, Miller. You want that instead?”

“Trust me, I know, but I think I like you better when you’re beggin’ for me,” he replies with a grin. 

Joel’s hands grab onto your waist and he hoists you up onto the ledge. His broad shoulders press against the back of your thighs and his arms drape across your hips. He smiles at you, mouth tauntingly close to where you’re desperate for relief. You lean back on your elbows, the concrete warm against your bare skin and the sun washing over you.

“How about you show me those nice manners one more time?” He asks. 

You grit your teeth. “Joel, I swear to god I will go inside and lock you out–”

Your threats are cut off by your startled moan as he licks through your folds, broad swipes of his tongue from your fluttering entrance to your aching clit. His sweet brown eyes are sinful as he looks up at you from between your thighs, devouring your pussy like his last meal. His nose rubs against your clit each time his tongue dips inside of you and you’re quickly reduced to a writhing mess.

You shift your weight to one arm and reach down with the other to tangle your fingers into his hair. He moans appreciatively against your cunt, the vibrations making you keen. When your hips start to fight against his hold, his lips wrap around your clit, sucking and rolling it with his tongue.

“Fuck, fuck, just like that,” you babble, trying to keep your voice down as you balance right on the edge of your orgasm. He hums again, tongue swirling over your clit until that final thread snaps and you free fall into oblivion, fingers curling tightly against his scalp and making him groan as he works you through your release.

Your limbs go boneless in the aftermath and you collapse against the ground, an arm over your eyes to block out the sun. You hear the sound of water sloshing before Joel lays beside you on his back, arms beneath his head. He turns to look at you, his bright smile making your heart flutter in your chest. 

And when he extends an arm out for you to snuggle up against him, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, Joel Miller isn’t such a bad neighbor after all.

“What do you mean you thought I was the asshole?!” Joel asks indignantly as he leaves your bathroom. He’s got a towel held up around his waist and you’re finding it hard to concentrate on his words at this exact moment.

You’ve just finished showering together after your outdoor activities, where you returned his poolside favor with some attention of your own. Now, you’re laying on the bed in your own towel, tired from the sun and the sex. 

You’ve also just admitted that you thought he was the worst neighbor. An asshole even. And now he’s looking at you like you’re insane.

“You stole my internet!” He exclaims. 

“You can’t prove that,” you reply, maybe a bit too quickly. He raises an eyebrow at you, but you refuse to back down.

“Fine, but you put all those twigs and shit on my porch.”

“They were from your tree, I was simply…returning your property.”

“And the cats?” He crosses his arms. “Because of you, my flowerbeds look like shit and I’ve lost two planters.”

“Not my fault they can sense you’re the weak link. They’re asserting their dominance. Hiss at them or something,” you say with a shrug.

Joel gapes at you. “You can’t be serious.”

“Look, it’s water under the bridge now, right? What can I do to make it up to you?”

He’s silent for a moment before a mischievous grin spreads across his face.

“Where’s that toy you bought, sweetheart?”

_________________

Joel’s got you on your back, your wireless vibrator placed snugly inside of your and against your clit. You’re glaring at him because he’s stopped you from another orgasm. He’s quickly becoming obsessed with that fire in your eyes and the curl of your lip when you’re mad at him.

He presses a trail of kisses from your ankle to the inside of your thighs, nipping the sensitive skin close to your pussy just to hear you gasp. He continues across your abdomen and your breasts, stopping to lavish attention to each sensitive nipple, your back arching against him for more.

“Joel,” you whine, squirming beneath him. He stretches up to capture your lips in a kiss, your lips dragging across his in the most addicting way. His cock slides against the smooth skin of your hip, making him groan. With a flick of his thumb, he turns the toy back on. “Oh, fuck!”

“Want you to come for me this time, baby,” Joel tells you. “Then I want you to come all over my cock, okay?”

You nod, back bowing and muscles straining as your writhe against the vibrations. Joel sits back on his heels to watch you, the way your mouth is dropped open in a silent shout and how your eyes find his at the exact moment you start to come undone.

“Oh my god,” you pant as Joel swiftly removes the toy, the pink silicone shiny with your release. He tosses it to the side and presses his cock to your fluttering hole, sinking inside of you with a deep groan. Your walls are still clenching with the aftershocks of your orgasm as he begins to thrust, slow and deep.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so fuckin’ good,” he growls. He uses a hand to press one of your knees closer to your chest, his fingers wrapped tightly beneath your knee. 

The change in angle gets him deeper and his pace grows faster in response to your moans. He can feel you start to pulse around him, each drag of his cock out of your cunt getting harder as your walls squeeze, desperately trying to keep him inside. 

“Touch yourself,” Joel commands. “Wanna see you come for me again, pretty girl, come on.”

Your fingers find your clit, swirling through the mess of slick coating your folds. Your eyes are glued to him as you work yourself to the same rhythm of his thrusts. He knows you’re close when your eyes start to flutter, your head dropping back against the mattress and your thighs going tight against his hips.

“That’s it, good fuckin’ girl, just like that,” he growls as you come with a shout of his name. “Christ, you look so damn good.”

You blink at him, your eyes hazy and your smile languid as he chases his own release, using your sensitive cunt for his pleasure. When it gets to be too much, too close, he withdraws, fisting his cock with rough strokes until he comes in thick splashes against your belly.

He collapses on the bed beside you, both of your chests heaving with deep breaths. After a moment, he uses one of the towels to wipe you clean, tossing it to the floor. You glare at him. 

“You better put that in the hamper later,” you admonish. He pulls you into his side. 

“So, why exactly did you think I was an asshole neighbor?” He asks. To his surprise, you blush, mumbling something he can’t make out. “What?”

“I said because you beat me at the Halloween decorating contest.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes. You have the twelve foot skeleton and I’m jealous.”

“I’ll get you as many skeletons as you want,” Joel laughs. You smile at him.

“Sounds good to me, big guy.”

_________________

The following Halloween, there are two twelve foot skeletons in the neighborhood, and they live right next door to each other.

Joel Miller taglist: 

@huffle-punk @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727  @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfelll @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @mydailyhyperfixations @liati2000 @ghostofjoharvelle @cutesyscreenname @morgaussy @letsgroovetonighttt @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @brilliantopposite187 @mattmurdock1021 @str84pedro @justsomeoneovertherainbow @loquaciousferret @milly-louise @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @kirsteng42 @caatheeriinee07 @eternallyvenus @midnightswithdearkatytspb @evyiione @leeeesahhh @tloubarbie @afterglowsb-tch13 @loveliestofthoughts @theviewfromtheritz @brittmb115 @uncassettodiricordi @pedritosgfreal @adriennemichelle98 @mxtokko @gingersince97 @switchbladedreamz @casa-boiardi @tonysterco @rvjaa @ladymunson @sexpoisoned @trisaratops-mcgee @decemberdolly @spookyemorockbabe @reader-without-a-story @katmoonz @simping-soldat @mswarriorbabe80 @orphanbird95 @shatteredbaby @tusk89 @gingersince97 @mssbridgerton @internetobsessed1234-blog @sloanexx @manazo @bigboiseason123 @bean-is-reading @darlingpedro @silkiers @pascals-cat @bbyanarchist @therealcap @pedrosgrogu @dreamingofdaddydin

Want more Joel Miller? Check out my masterlist.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #no use of y/n #joel tlou #joel x reader #pre outbreak!joel #enemies to lovers #hot neighbor

[pedropascalsbbg]

someone’s gotta say it… we need more thigh/buldge riding fics… *goes back into hiding*

#pls it’s so hot #joel miller #joel miller x reader #javier peña #javier pena x reader #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #joel miller smut #javier pena smut #dieter bravo smut

[callmelittlebuttercup]

Peace Offerings Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Series Summary: Joel makes a bad impression on the reader when he cuts in front of her at the radio station in the QZ. Abe, a father figure to her and an informant of Joel’s, informs her that the two have something in common: A brother in Wyoming. Joel reluctantly follows Abe’s wishes when he asks him to take the reader along to help find her brother too. As the journey goes on, she finds that despite his best efforts to make her think so, Joel isn’t a complete asshole, and maybe even a little… attractive?

Series Warnings: Extreme Slow burn, Age gap (reader is in her 30s, Joel is 56), 18+ Minors DNI, Eventual Smut, Violence, Death/Suicide, Injuries (depictions of blood, bruising, broken bones), Cursing, Grumpy!Joel, Minimal depictions of reader's appearance (hair color/length.)

New part every Monday!! <3

~~~~~~~~~

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

Part Ten

Part Eleven

Part Twelve

Part Thirteen

#joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x female reader #tlou #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #joel the last of us #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #romance #slow burn #the mandolarian #narcos #javier peña #enemies to lovers #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller #forced pro #forced proximity #if bad why hot? #if bad why sexy #pedrohub #i can fix him #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x female reader