#joel miller fanfic

[katiexpunk]

Fuck Me, Fill Me

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!Reader | W/C: ~4K | Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: Accidents happen all the time — people fall, knives slip, condoms break. You spent years successfully avoiding one. Except things are different now, you're ready for more. Your husband Joel is more than happy to oblige.

Warnings: Joel has one mission in this one -- knock you the fuck up (if that's not your thing, kindly move on). Heavy on the breeding kink. No age gap is mentioned (make it your own). So much dirty talk. Fingering. Dry humping/grinding. Praise kink. Size kink. Unprotected P in V. Rough sex. Semi-public sex. Sex in front of a mirror. Multiple creampies. No use of Y/N, no use of daddy. TLOU au. Reader has no physical descriptions except hair (no type or color) long enough to hold on to. Let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: I have no excuses for this one except that I have Joel brain rot and baby fever. Shoutout to the Capital One Lounge at IAD for the idea. Written on a plane.

Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

Accidents happen all the time — people fall, knives slip, condoms break. 

It’s inevitable, really. A known fact of life. Call it Murphy’s law, bad luck, or just plain stupidity… 

You’ve spent the majority of your teens and 20s successfully avoiding an accident. 

If it can happen, it will happen your superstitious aunt used to say, and you were a believer. 

Lord knows you've had more than enough evidence in your life to back up her words. From the tummy ache after eating way too many cherries, to the conspicuous brown stain that ruined your pristine white blouse. A blister on your heel from shoes that were supposed to be 'broken in' but never quite were, and the painful crack in your skin that followed. Proof was everywhere, and you learned to expect the unexpected.

You hold tight to that belief, while Joel does the same to your hips, fucking you within an inch of your life in the airport lounge bathroom.

But how you both ended up in this position was no accident. 

++++

It never seemed like the right time—you had so much more to explore, achieve, and experience. Becoming a mother would complicate everything; at least, that's what you convinced yourself. You were content to rely on that little orange pill each day, despite its own set of side effects, because it kept your options open. 

You weren't sure you'd make a good mom anyway. Your own mother certainly wasn't a shining example, and you had no reason to think you'd be any different. You couldn't even keep a cactus alive—how could you possibly care for a child?

But something changed not long after you and Joel got married. Maybe it was maturity slowly finding its way in, like warm honey filling the spaces you once closed off. It softened you to the idea of chubby cheeks and tiny fingers, gentle coos, and quiet lullabies sung in the deep southern drawl that had become so familiar.

Initially, you weren't sure how Joel would take the news, but when you told him you'd reconsidered, his reaction was beyond anything you'd expected. He was over the moon, filled with an urgency you'd never seen in him before. It was like you'd handed him the key to his deepest desires, and he was eager, almost desperate, to turn it and bring new life into your world, yours and his.

He made it clear just how eager he was when he took you in his arms and twirled you around the kitchen in joy. Then, without missing a beat, he bent you over the counter, yanked down your jeans, and made his intentions unmistakably clear. He fucked his cum so deep inside of you that night that you felt the warm dribble of him the next morning. 

++++ 

Good things come to those who wait.

The words seem almost lifeless as they peer back at you, the paper they're printed on showing signs of age and Scotch tape keeping it glued to the break room wall above the microwave. The optimism they once held has faded, leaving behind nothing but cynicism and wear.

Yeah. Right. 

The shrill beep of the microwave snaps you back to the present, your shoulders tensing. You shake off your irritation, clutching the warm coffee that’s been reheated three times, its heat barely reaching the chill of your underlying pessimism. It’s a small comfort, but enough to soften the ache of disappointment that nags at you every month when hope fizzles out.

Back at your desk, you bury yourself in work, flipping through emails and juggling various applications. Headphones in, you’re almost lost in your own world when a notification on your phone pulls you back. It's your cycle tracking app, reminding you that you're due to ovulate in a couple of days. But wait—

No, no, no. You quickly count the days in your head, then scramble to open your work calendar. The schedule's a blur until your eyes land on the words "Work Trip: Jackson, Wyoming." They jump off the screen, almost mocking you. Looks like timing won't be on your side this month. Unless —

Would it be too ridiculous to change an entire work trip just so you could make love to your ridiculously hot husband, and let him fill you again and again? You think not, but you know your boss might say otherwise. 

You spend the rest of your workday figuring out Plan B. The irony is not lost on you that you’re seeking out an entirely different kind than you used to. 

++++

As you settle into the couch, your legs draped across his lap, he begins to massage the soles of your feet in that soothing way that sends a ripple of warmth up your spine. You can't help but glance at his side profile—the elegant slope of his nose, the chiseled cut of his jaw, and the effortless curls of his salt-and-pepper hair that rest at the nape of his neck. He's undeniably handsome, a sight that never gets old.

His touch spreads a slow heat across your skin, your stomach fluttering in response. It's always been this way—the world could be crumbling outside, but with Joel, in your shared cocoon, you feel entirely at ease, wrapped in safety and affection.

“You're really gorgeous, you know,” you murmur, almost too quietly to be heard. You swirl the wine in your glass and meet his gaze as you take a sip.

“Nah, that's you, sweetheart,” he replies with a wink, his touch transitioning to featherlight kitten caresses as his fingers trace a path up your shin. He's not trying to seduce you, not really,  but his touch and the intent gaze he holds on you are enough to ignite a slow burn under your skin.

You relax into the cushions, your head sinking back into the pillow, reveling in this moment. When he pauses, even for a second, you squirm, and he chuckles softly. “Such a needy little thing, aren't cha?” he teases, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he resumes his gentle strokes. “Mhm, sure am,” you hum, your eyes closing as you melt into the sensation of his skin on yours.

He slowly journeys upward, callused palms gliding along the smooth skin of your thigh, alternating between soft strokes and firm squeezes. Each touch seems to awaken a deeper need within you, and you're all too aware of the growing bulge beneath your calves, a silent but potent reminder of the desire simmering between you. It's enough to make you ache for him, crave his closeness, the kind of closeness only he can provide.

You lift your head, and he's already adjusting, his broad frame looming over you. He locks eyes with you as he takes the wineglass from your hand, placing it on the coffee table with care, then shifts his full attention back to you. You push your hips upward, meeting his, and he presses down just enough to make it clear that he’s in control, his body holding you firmly but without discomfort. You know he’s got you right where he wants you.

Your eyes meet his, and the intensity in his gaze leaves no doubt—this is happening. He props himself up on one forearm, his other hand tangling through your hair, his knuckles brushing against your cheek with a tender touch. He thrusts his hips into you with more urgency, his lips descending to capture yours, drawing out a soft moan from deep within you.

“Fuck sweetheart, feel what you do to me?” he groans, pressing his lips harder against yours. He tastes the wine on you, and your tongues intertwine, each movement slow but deliberate. You work your arms free from your sides and slide your hands into his hair, tugging gently, your nails grazing his scalp. The deep groan that escapes him tells you he's feeling everything—the pull, the scrape, the heat. It rumbles from his chest, reverberating through you, and it's intoxicating.

With your lips pressed firmly to his, he captures your bottom lip between his teeth, giving it a teasing bite as he thrusts against you. The rough denim scrapes against your inner thighs, and he slots himself perfectly between your legs. His mouth leaves yours, tracing a path of soft kisses down your jawline, lingering at that sensitive spot just behind your ear before he pulls the lobe into his mouth. You moan, fingers tangled in his hair, while your other hand explores the broad expanse of his back, craving the feel of him, unable to get enough.

“Joel,” you whimper, his name almost a question on your lips. 

He doesn't pause, thrusting with just the right pressure, almost ignoring your plea. You move your lips to his shoulder and whisper, “I’m ovulating.”

That makes him stop. He props himself up on one forearm, his free hand on your ribs, his intense gaze locking onto yours. His eyes darken, pupils eclipsing the rich brown you know so well, and he groans deeply. Fuck. 

“Yeah, sweetheart? Mmm, big mistake telling me that, now I’m just going to pump you full of my cum all night, gonna fuck you again and again, keep you so full of me that it’ll have no choice but to stick this time.” 

You whimper at the thought, and his words go straight to your already wet core, your pussy fluttering around nothing, practically begging to be filled. 

You want him so bad, but right now, he wants you more — wants every part of you, wants to change you forever. His head dips back to your neck, and he's practically grinding into you, the pressure so intense it feels like he's already fucking you through your clothes. His beard rasps against your cheek, leaving a trail of red marks as he works his way down to your chest, hastily undoing buttons, uncovering your breasts, and teasing your nipples to hard, eager peaks.

It would almost be embarrassing how turned on you are right now if it were anyone but him, how easily he can fluster you, turn you into a babbling mess. 

“Well, not right now, but I am next —” you start to say, but quickly lose your train of thought as his whole hand comes down to cup your sex and the feel of his palm pressing against your dripping center. 

“Sorry darlin’, what was that?” He asks, doing little to hide the smug tone behind his voice, obviously pleased with the effect he has on you.

“I am next week, while I’m supposed to be in Jackson for work,” you manage to get out, the words coming out soft, a barely there thought, your attention mostly on the sensation of his thick finger that has now curled its way deep inside of you, your panties pushed to the side as they should never have been there in the first place, not with him in the room. 

“Come with me,” you ask, your words a tad breathless as he adds another finger to your dripping center, your slick coating them completely, and when he doesn’t answer, you’re not sure he heard you behind the haze of his arousal, the blood thrumming through his veins. Not that you can blame him, it’s so hard to fucking think, to breathe, to string together a rational thought that isn’t dirty when you’re together like this. 

“Gotta feel this pussy first,” he rasps, the words slightly muffled against the tenderness of your breast. His words sober you for a brief second, as you playfully push against him in protest. 

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," you laugh, and he can't suppress the goofy grin spreading across his face. He loves this—the playful banter, the way you bring out his lighter side, the perfect blend of passion and humor that flows between you. It's always been like this, effortlessly flirty, endlessly fun. You’re the perfect combination of sexy and cute, and better yet, you’re all his. 

“Alright baby, I’ll come with you, on one condition,” he says, adding a third finger, and the stench of him is intoxicatingly delicious, perfect, and intense in the best way. You already feel so fucked out, you’re not sure how he’s managing to find the will to set fucking conditions right now, but still, you humor him — 

“Conditions, huh?” You moan as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you, the pads of his fingers grazing at the soft spongey spot inside of you that makes you see stars. 

“Yeah, sweetheart, conditions,” he says, nipping at your chin. “You’re gonna be the good girl I know you are and come all over my fingers, and then I’ll make sure that you’re full of me all week, whenever you want it baby, I’m all yours,” he rasps, his breath coming a bit more ragged now at the thought of your proposition and his. 

His fingers are still deep inside of you, he positions his wrist just right and brings the pad of his thumb to your clit. Your slick, combined with his filthy fucking mouth, and his thick cock pressed against you, creates the perfect conditions for the inevitable. He’s never not made you come, and you sure as hell know he’s not about to change that narrative now. 

If it can happen, it will happen. 

“Come on pretty girl, show me how pretty you come on your husband’s fingers,” he says, not really asking, but rather ordering in the tone that lights every nerve in your body on fire with arousal. 

The warmth in your lower belly spreads outward, wrapping you in a blanket of pleasure. Your limbs tingle, your vision blurs, and your toes curl as the intensity builds. For a split second, everything goes hazy, and you let go, surrendering to him completely. He takes control, guiding you through the waves of ecstasy, pulling you into a bliss that only he knows how to reach.

“So good for me, sweetheart. You are so perfect.” 

He makes you come once more soon after and then fucks you deep and slow. It’s all whispered praises in your ear, a firm grip on your hips, and his cock barely leaving your cunt before he’s slamming back into you, desperate to keep the tip of him as close to your cervix as possible. 

Come with me, you moan, and he knows exactly what you mean this time. 

“Shit, baby, I can feel you squeezing me, taking me so good —” his words break with a moan as you come for the third time, falling apart on his cock, before he adds “gripping me so goddamn tight.” 

His thrusts slow and he buries himself to the hilt inside of you, and paints your insides in thick ropes of cum, holding your gaze as he throbs inside, not daring to move and risk any of his spend coming out before he wants it to. 

He plants a soft kiss on your lips and tells you that you’re going to look even more gorgeous with his baby inside of you. 

++++

The delayed flight to Jackson was just another reminder of life's unpredictability.

What started as a simple 30-minute delay quickly turned into an hour, then two, and now you're both three hours past your original departure time. 

You find yourselves in one of the newer airport lounges, sitting in overly posh chairs. It's surprisingly uncrowded given the chaos that usually comes with airport delays. Your luggage is safely tucked away in the lockers, your bellies are full from the free snacks, and the irritation from earlier is fading thanks to the complimentary drinks. The ambiance is unexpectedly chic. Even the bathrooms feel upscale—private, enormous mirrors, fancy soap, and paper towels so luxurious they might as well be hand towels.

Joel is deep into a well-worn Western novel, its cover frayed and spine cracked from countless readings. You're scrolling through an article about the best positions for conceiving, smirking when you realize you and Joel have tried most of them, and then some. Just as you're in the middle of your read, your cycle tracking app sends a notification—you're at peak fertility, starting now. Have fun! ;) 

Shit. 

Who knows when you'll actually make it to your hotel room in Jackson tonight? You glance up from your phone, stealing a look at Joel. He's always handsome, but there's something about him in his glasses—the way the frames sit on the bridge of his nose, the slight furrow in his brow as he focuses on the words in his book. It's endearing how he still reads with such intensity, even though you know he's revisited these same pages countless times.

Your pussy flutters and aches at the sight, giving you a cheeky idea. He did say you could have him whenever you wanted. 

You clear your throat, hoping to pull Joel's focus from his book, but he doesn't seem to notice. You try again, this time a bit louder, and all you get is a distracted, "You okay, sweetheart?" without him even glancing up.

You know you’ll need to be more direct to capture his attention.

"I'm going to use the restroom," you say, and he nods, eyes still on the page. Once inside, you leave the door unlocked and hike up your dress, exposing your bare breasts. You pinch your nipples between your thumb and forefinger until they harden, then push out your chest, angling your smartphone for the perfect shot. The result is a provocative selfie that you know will make him put that book down.

You attach it to a message for Joel and quickly type out your request — come knock me up in the bathroom, Cowboy. 

He’s joining you in the bathroom faster than you thought he would, careful to avoid any curious eyes or draw attention to the fact that he’s about to absolutely wreck his wife.

Once inside, he locks the door behind him and grabs your waist, guiding you back until your hips hit the counter's edge. His hands roam over your body, lifting the hem of your dress until it's bunched around your waist. He kisses you with a desperate hunger, as if he hasn't had you in years.

"You sure you want to do this here, sweetheart?" he groans against your lips, shifting between playful nips, gentle kisses on your cheeks, and heated sucks at your jawline. The anticipation in his touch is palpable, but he's still checking to make sure this is what you want.

“Never been more sure of anything in my life except for the day I married you. Please fuck me, Joel, need to feel you stretch me out” you say, your words crossed between a whimper and a plea. 

God, just when he thought you couldn’t get any more perfect. 

“Yeah? My girl wants me to fill up her tight little hole,” he teases, already knowing the answer. He moves his hand to your dripping core and lets out a deep groan when he discovers you’ve already removed the barrier of your underwear for him. 

“Fuck baby, I’d do anything to taste you right now, wanna hear all those pretty noises you make and the way my name sounds when you moan it for me,” and you soften more under the heat of his words, letting your mind drift to thoughts of how good it feels when his head is between your legs, gently wringing orgasm after orgasm out of you like it’s his fucking job. 

“Gotta make this one quick, though. Can you be quiet for me, sweetheart?” He asks, and all you can do is nod. 

"Good girl—c'mere, turn around," he instructs, guiding you with his hands until you've spun around, your hips pressing into the sink. His hand travels down your spine, making you arch toward him slightly, and he bends you over even more. In the mirror, you see him behind you, his eyes locked on yours as he quickly unbuckles his belt and lowers his jeans to mid-thigh. The anticipation is electric as you watch him in the reflection, knowing exactly what's coming next.

He spits into his hand and jerks himself, all the while holding your gaze, admiring the way your breasts are pressed up against the counter, perky and perfect. His cock twitches at the thought of what they’ll look like all swollen and full of milk. 

He lines himself up against your wet and waiting hole, holds your hips steady with one hand, and gathers your hair in his fist with the other. He gently tugs it so your chin is angled up, eyes even straighter looking into the mirror. He loves watching you take it. 

“You’re gonna watch as I fuck you, sweetheart,” He rasps as he presses himself into you in one stroke. You’re so fucking wet, your greedy cunt accepts him easily, despite his size. Like it knows what it wants, and what it needs. There’s a dull delicious sting at the intrusion.

“Oh my god, Joel, you’re so bi—” You break off in a moan as he pulls out and then slams himself into you deep and hard. 

“God damn, look at you, my perfect fucking girl. Taking me so well, like this cock was made for you, huh baby?” His voice is firm, but quiet, just above a whisper. He’s not wasting time, he sets a punishing pace, and all you can do is let him use you. 

“Fuck me, fuck me, fill me, fill me” you cry out, and he brings his hand to cover your mouth. 

“What’d I say about being quiet, baby?” He holds you like that. You slip your hand between your thighs and rub your clit, a dangerous combination when he’s fucking you in this position. You come so fast that you think it might be a record. The tightening of your cunt has him on the precipice of his release.

“You’re fucking mine,” he growls, fucking his cum into you over and over, using every drop of him to give you what you want.

It might not stick this time, hell, it might not stick next time, but one thing is for certain — Joel will keep you full and fucked either way. 

END 

Reblog + Support Writers + Comment

A/N Continued: Thank you so much for reading! On a side note, my engagement here has been really low lately. :( As much as I'd love to say I don't care about the notes, I won't lie and tell you I don't need them for validation. If you like this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging. I'll love you forever.

Tagging some moots for visibility (lmk if you want to be removed if the subject matter isn't your thing. No hard feelings!) @endlessthxxghts @syd-djarin @auteurdelabre @morning-star-joy@theoasisofthings @chulopascal @morallyinept @sweetercalypso @xdaddysprincessxx @burntheedges @punkshort @pedrostories @bastardmandennis @milly-louise @ghostwritesthings @josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @survivingandenduring @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro @amyispxnk @paleidiot @ghostwritesthings @kulekehe @darkheartgatita @goldenhxurs @javiscigarette @ro-nahime-things @gwendibleywrites @missladym1981 @morgaussy

#joel miller smut #joel miler x fem!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #breeding k1nk #joel miller the last of us #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal character #pedrohub #pedrostories #joel miller #joel miller fanfic

[punkshort]

i know who you are | 7. the week

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Joel is on a mission to win you back. You struggle with your feelings and visit an old friend for some perspective.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, pining, sad!Joel, amnesia, slow burn, physical violence, wounds/blood/injuries/gore, vague reference to suicide (Joel remembering his incident after Sarah), alcohol consumption, non-descriptive smutty memory, mentions of murder (adults and children), mentions of pregnancy (not reader)

WC: 7.7K

A/N: I took some liberties with the background of the Fireflies, it's not exactly canon.

Series Masterlist

Somewhere in Northern California

It took two days.

Two full days of freezing temperatures and frigid wind as he traversed up and down mountains, through snow covered forests with little to no shelter, but he finally made it. Right before nightfall, he approached the edge of the town you grew up in. The town your parents still lived in ten years ago. The town that holds a history of you and everything you hold dear.

It was too dark and he was too tired to enter the town and go any further, but fortune smiled upon him for the first time since he left Jackson when he spotted a dilapidated woodshed tucked into the forest. It was small, no bigger than a bedroom, but it would do. It would be the first time in two days he would get to sleep with a roof over his head, and he desperately needed it.

He grossly overestimated his ability to survive out in the wild. He did it before, of course, but life in Jackson made him soft. Made him complacent. Made him weak.

Time took its toll on his body. His age was an offensive reminder every time his knees creaked or his back twinged. He wasn't as fast as he used to be, nor as strong. But he was determined and stubborn, two things that would never change.

With hands trembling from the cold, he jabbed his knife into the lock and broke it with ease, a small triumph in an otherwise unforgiving journey. The shed was mostly empty, save for a pile of wood and an axe. Plenty of room for both him and the horse.

After he scattered some oats on the floor, he grabbed his rifle and marched back out into the snowy tundra to do a perimeter check, knowing he would fall asleep the moment he allowed himself to slow down. By the time he deemed the area safe, he retreated back into the woodshed and lit a fire in the tiny furnace to warm up a bit.

Once he got feeling back in his fingers, he cracked open some stew and ate it cold straight from the can, too impatient to warm it up and too eager to get some rest. The wind howled outside, practically screaming at him with every gust: How could you say that to me?

The horse nickered softly, her head lowered, one back leg cocked as she began to doze off. He laid on the wooden floor, partially resting inside his sleeping bag, ready to strike if there was an intruder. The back of his wrist laid against his forehead while he stared blankly at the ceiling, wondering for the umpteenth time if what he was doing was even going to work. If he would even be capable of finding your house in this town, let alone finding any pictures still in good enough condition to bring back to you.

But it was all he had.

You had mentioned to him when he was sick, after you saw the photo of Sarah, how you wished you had pictures of your family. You looked so somber and distant and he was once again reminded that even though you lost them ten years ago, in your mind you only lost them months ago.

He couldn't imagine losing Sarah twice. Waking up one day, thinking she was alive and healthy and late for school just to be told she was killed mercilessly ten years prior and died in his arms. You were so much stronger than him. You always were. You were told your whole world changed, your family gone, and then tossed into a house with him, pressured by everyone every damn day to regain your memories and become a completely different person when he knew deep down if the same had happened to him, his answer would lie at the end of a barrel. But unlike before, he might not flinch.

You really fucking hurt me, Joel.

He rubbed his face aggressively, the pain and anguish in your voice haunting him. This trip left him with too much time to get lost in his thoughts, too much time to wallow in his grief and replay every single painful memory from the past several days.

Sighing, he dropped his hands to his chest and tried to think about something else. Letting his eyes drift shut, he let his mind wander back to before. Before your accident, before he fucked everything up, back to a time when you were happy and stupidly in love.

"What's cookin', good lookin'?" he heard your voice behind him.

He grinned as he stirred a pot of sauce on the stove while you wrapped your arms around his midsection, burying your face against his back.

"My accent rubbin' off on you now?"

You giggled and let go, walking over to grab the bottle of whiskey and pouring you each a glass.

"Maybe."

You handed him his glass and clinked them together before taking a sip.

"How was patrol?" he asked, turning his attention back to the pasta.

"Boring," you replied, hopping up onto the counter next to him, swinging your legs back and forth. "Jesse has a lot of work to do. He's not seasoned enough to be out there without one of us."

He nodded thoughtfully and lifted the spoon up to your lips to taste the sauce. "Needs lemon," you said, licking your upper lip while he snatched a lemon from a basket in the corner of the kitchen and sliced it in half.

"Yeah, I know, but he's got potential. Just gotta get him to focus a bit more. Gotta be more aware of his surroundings."

You hummed and rubbed the back of your neck with a wince.

"You hurtin'?" he asked, but you shook your head immediately.

"Just tired."

"You sure?" he said while he strained the pasta. "I can rub your neck later."

"Oh, well in that case, yes. I'm absolutely aching over here," you said with a smile.

"Don't tempt me, baby," he told you, setting down the pot before wedging himself between your knees, his hands rubbing over your thighs. "Might not stop at your neck."

"Is that right?" you teased, pulling your lower lip between your teeth playfully.

"Mhmm. First it's your neck, then shoulders," he said, pressing a gentle kiss against your lips, "then your back," he dragged his hands up your back and pressed you forward, nearly pulling you off the counter.

"Then what?" you asked breathlessly, arms loosely draping around the back of his neck.

"Before y'know it, you'll be pullin' at my belt, tellin' me you got an ache someplace else 'n you need me to stuff you full of my cock." His hands dragged up and down your back, his mouth nipping gently at your throat as you tipped your head back with a gasp.

"You know me so well," you murmured, a lazy smirk spreading across your face when you felt the urgency behind his touch.

"Yeah I do, baby," his words getting lost against your skin, "know you like the back of my hand. Know what makes you tick. What makes you feel good. Know what makes you scream my fuckin' name." His lips slotted over yours urgently, the pasta cold and long forgotten as you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him close.

"Take me to bed, Joel," you begged after you pulled your head away, breaking the kiss and then quickly latching onto his neck. "Need you. I want - shit!" you cursed when one of you accidentally pushed a plate off the counter and it smashed into pieces against the floor.

"Leave it, don't care," he said, picking you up and pulling your attention off the shards of ceramic littering the floor. "I'll clean it up later."

His eyes popped open, the echo of your giggle from that night bouncing around his skull. It was almost laughable now, thinking he felt lonely before compared to how he felt in the middle of fucking nowhere with only a sleeping horse to keep him company.

He wasn't stupid. He knew he would need to do more than bring home some pictures to convince you to forgive him. But it was a start, and maybe, just maybe with time, you would come to understand what you meant to him.

And if he was really lucky, he might end up meaning something to you, too.

It was stupid and it didn't mean anything.

That's what you kept telling yourself ever since Joel left and you found yourself curling up in his bed at night instead of yours.

His bed was more comfortable. His room didn't store the bad memories of your fight. It was simply easier to sleep there.

It certainly didn't have anything to do with the way the sheets still smelled like him. Like the soap you both used combined with the outdoors and a hint of his sweat. And on the third night when you picked out a flannel of his from the closet and wrapped it around yourself, it was only because it was a particularly frigid night.

You didn't miss him.

Well, you missed having another person in the house, sure. But you didn't miss him on some deeper level. Maria and Ellie were wrong. They had no idea what they were talking about. They had no idea what was going through your head, what you were feeling, what you were struggling with.

There was no possible way you could have feelings for Joel. Not after everything he did and said. Not after the lies and the cheating and the deception.

But then why, when you were struggling to fall asleep at night, did your mind always wander back to the way he looked at you in the meadow, or the way his arms felt wrapped around you on the back of the horse, or the way he made you laugh when you played Monopoly?

And why did it feel like a part of you left with him that night?

"Pathetic," you muttered to yourself, pulling the sheets tighter and rolling over onto your side, his soft, worn flannel like butter against your bare skin. You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing the memories from your mind and instead, replaying what he told you about the hospital.

He almost killed you. He was seconds away from putting a bullet in your head and only after presumably begging for your life did he let you go, and then he had the nerve to keep that information from you not only once, but fucking twice.

He was protecting Ellie.

But he still shouldn't have lied.

With a groan, you rolled onto your back and stared up at the ceiling, sleep so far out of reach you didn't even feel like trying anymore. Then a thought occurred to you:

You weren't the only one he let live. There were two other people in Jackson who were there, who were shown mercy and didn't appear to hold any resentment towards him for it. In fact, they seemed rather happy with the second chance they were given.

You hadn't seen Ben or Lisa in a long time. The opportunity never presented itself for you to seek any perspective from them about that day.

Perhaps it was time to change that.

It took him a few hours to scope out the town and venture out of the woods, but by late morning he was heading down what looked to be one of the main thoroughfares in town, eyes squinting against the blowing snow as he tried to pinpoint the location of town hall.

All he remembered was your street name but he had absolutely no idea how to find it, so his plan was to break into the town hall and find a map. From there, he prayed Ellie's drawing was truly accurate enough to narrow down your parents' house.

He was freezing. His face was numb and his back was fucking killing him from riding so much, but he was so close. If he was lucky, he could find your house, get what he needed and head out all before nightfall. Maybe he could even spend another night in the woodshed. It wasn't so bad. At least he was warm.

As he continued to steer his horse down another road, he couldn't help but think Tommy was right about the storm. It was providing him some cover, just in case there were survivors around that wouldn't take kindly to his intrusion. He just hoped it would blow through in a day so his ride back would be clear.

After another thirty minutes of wind whipping at his face, the cold penetrating his coat and several layers underneath, he finally saw it. It was a smaller building than he imaged it to be, but the sign was clear. Hoping that the town size was as small as the town hall, he steered his mare down the drive and through the parking lot, making sure to take in his surroundings, confirming he was truly alone before he slid down from the saddle and trudged through the snow to the front doors.

He wiped away the snow from the window, peering inside before heading to another one and doing the same. It appeared to be empty so he tried the door, unsurprisingly finding it locked. He pulled out his knife and worked on the lock, his fingers stiff and his ears so cold he could barely feel them anymore. Finally, he broke the lock but when he shoved the door, there was something blocking him on the other side.

"Shit," he muttered, glancing around, kicking and dusting snow off the surrounding area, looking for a brick or a rock. Giving up, he grabbed his rifle from the saddle and angrily made his way to the nearest window, smashing the butt of his gun against the glass repeatedly until it shattered. He gasped for air, not realizing how much energy he was exerting before he continued, knocking out as much of the glass as he could.

Sticking his head inside, he looked around. The place seemed empty. It was quiet, covered in dust and debris. Untouched dust was good. It meant nobody had been there in a while. Human or otherwise.

He crawled through the window, taking great care to not catch on any jagged edges. He held his breath, ears straining for any noise that might give someone away, but all he heard was the howling wind outside. This is your fault. Still, he kept his guard up. He walked room to room, finding his way to the lobby and searching the front desk for a map.

"You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me," he grumbled as he opened and shut each drawer in the desk, only pausing to snatch up an old protein bar and shoving it in his pocket.

With a sigh, he looked around the room. There were a couple benches, chairs that were moved and tipped over, papers scattered about but his eyes were drawn to the portraits on the wall. There were a few paintings of men he would never recognize, unknown sheriffs and mayors, and some framed pictures of the staff, but the one that really drew his attention was the large map on the wall next to the front doors.

It was a road map of the town. Simple, but it was all he needed. He rounded the desk and shined his flashlight over the map, studying it, searching for where he was before looking for your street.

"Grant Street."

"Grant?" he repeated, his fingers lightly skirting up and down your bare back.

"Mhmm," you confirmed, eyes closed, a small, satisfied smile tugging at your lips as you buried your face into his neck.

"That's funny," he said, his hand wandering past your waist and over your ass.

"Why's that?"

"Grant's my Mama's maiden name."

Your eyes opened and locked onto his. "Maybe it's fate, then."

Maybe it was.

Grant was only four blocks north. It didn't look like a very long road, either.

He could do this.

He was so close.

Lisa answered the door with the same look of surprise as before, although this time she was clutching needles and yarn in her left hand while the fire quietly crackled behind her.

"Hey," you said, arms wrapped around yourself as the snow storm continued to swirl behind you. "Can I come in?"

"Oh! Of course!" Lisa said, stepping back, "how rude of me. Can I get you something warm to drink?" She closed the door behind you and took a step towards the kitchen. "I just boiled some water for tea, it's still hot."

"Tea sounds lovely, thank you," you said as you hung up your coat and scarf, trying your best not to make a mess of melted snow all over her floor.

She told you to make yourself comfortable while she prepared your tea, so you wandered into her tiny living room, the space seeming a little larger now without your two imposing men.

"Where's Ben?"

"Working," she said, setting down a teacup and saucer next to hers. "I put a little sugar in it."

"Oh, thank you, that's perfect. I like it sweet," you replied, sitting down on the same couch as before and bringing the cup to your lips.

"I know, I remember," she said, and when she sat down and fixed her billowy top, you noticed for the first time the small bump protruding low on her hips.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and she followed your gaze.

"Oh, yes," her tone soft, "I'm due this spring."

"Wow. Congratulations, Lisa. That's wonderful, I had no idea. I thought I would have seen you from time to time at the infirmary," you explained, setting down your tea.

"Nick agrees to see me after hours, sometimes he makes house calls," she said, picking up her needles again.

You titled your head to the side. "Why do you want to be seen after hours?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line, eyes fixed on the yellow blanket she was making. "I still find it difficult sometimes to face some of the others in town, I suppose. I know I shouldn't but the guilt sticks with me."

"Guilt?"

Her eyes flicked up to yours and she shifted her weight. "I know Ben mentioned the Fireflies to you." She held out her wrist, showing you the small moth-like symbol tattooed there. "I'm not sure how much you know or remember-"

"Actually, that's why I'm here," you said, taking a deep breath. "Joel told me everything. About the Fireflies. About the hospital."

Her eyes widened, the needles abandoned in her lap.

"Oh."

"Yeah," you said, chewing on your lip and glancing at the fire. "He told me what he did there. Told me he spared us, let us go."

"Yes, he did," she agreed softly.

"Can you tell me more about that day?" you asked, dragging your eyes back to meet hers. "I'm having trouble understanding how I could have known this before and still managed to fall in love with him."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

You laughed dryly and shrugged. "I mean he almost killed us. He killed countless innocent people, friends of ours I'm assuming, and I'm expected to believe I just looked past it? We just looked past it?" You motioned between the two of you. "He's a murderer, Lisa. He-"

"We're murderers," she corrected, and you fell silent. "We killed innocent people. We helped lead a revolution that resulted in hundreds of deaths, and where did that get us? Nowhere! People weren't any better off. In fact, they were worse. Friends and family killed, caught in the crossfire, tangled up in this idea of freedom and safety and giving their lives to an empty cause."

You swallowed as you watched Lisa's face, her eyes fiery and her tone hardened, transforming into a different version of herself before your very eyes.

"What Joel did..." she trailed off as she thought back to that day. "We did bad things. So did he, but he single handedly cut the Fireflies off at the legs. He stopped the insanity, stopped the war, stopped the ridiculous experiments and half baked ideas to save the world, regardless of the lives lost along the way. You don't remember, I understand, but allow me to explain."

"Please," you begged softly, "please tell me everything."

She rested a palm against her swelling stomach and leaned back. "We realized we made a mistake pretty early on," she began, "but we didn't have anywhere else to go. We had been living in the wild for so long. We were tired and hungry and weak and we fell for it. Fell for the sales pitch when they found us. We were told we wouldn't have to fight, but they didn't tell us what they expected us to do."

"W-what did we do?" you stammered, sitting on the edge of your seat.

"We killed people. Innocent people, point blank. FEDRA soldiers. Civilians who ratted out our location for extra food for their family. Children-" her voice wobbled a bit as she looked down at her stomach. "Children who were experimented on, vaccine prototypes tested on, who became horribly disfigured a-and screaming in pain, begging to be put out of their misery-"

"Okay," you said, cutting her off and taking a deep breath, unable to hear much more. It was becoming clear why Joel kept this from you, and although you had a right to know, you were beginning to understand his motivation. He was trying to protect you.

"Anyway," Lisa continued, flicking a tear from her cheek, "we planned on getting out. We couldn't do it anymore. Then, Joel showed up."

You held your breath, waiting for her to continue.

"We were doing perimeter checks. Loosening a spot in the gate so we could sneak out later that night. Then we heard the gunshots. And at first, we thought some infected got in. It was the perfect distraction, so we grabbed our gear and made a run for it."

She paused to take a sip from her tea, her eyes looking miles away.

"We almost made it. We were in the parking garage loading up a vehicle when he snuck up behind us. Told us to lay face down on the ground with our hands behind our heads. We never saw him and it wasn't until later we found out he was all alone. The whole time we were convinced it had to have been a group of men. It seemed impossible for one man to do what he did, but somehow..."

She trailed off again and cleared her throat.

"He gave us a second chance when we didn't deserve it," she said solemnly. "You and Ben dealt with the weight of what we did far better than me. I still struggle with the guilt, I can't..." she looked up at you, "I hope you never remember."

A chill went down your spine and you nodded.

"Try not to hold it against him," she said, offering you a small smile. "We've all done terrible things. It's not all black and white."

It ain't black and white.

"Yeah, okay," you replied quietly, standing up from the couch, your mind reeling. "Thanks," you added, motioning to the tea before she walked you to the door, "and congratulations again."

"Thank you," she said, rubbing her belly, her green eyes sparkling. "I'm glad you stopped by. The truth is sometimes ugly, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve to understand the whole picture." You nodded and bent over to shove on your boots. "Joel's not a bad man. I'm sure he was just trying to protect you by leaving some things out about our past. He would have told you eventually."

When the whole goddamn world ends and all you got left is one or two people you care 'bout, you'll do whatever you gotta do to protect 'em.

"Yeah, I'm starting to realize that now," you said, shrugging on your coat with a wry smile.

The whole way home, you practically kicked yourself for not visiting Lisa sooner. Maybe it would have made a difference, maybe not. But it finally felt like a missing puzzle piece was back in place and you could begin to make sense of your confusing feelings for Joel.

Ellie was incredibly talented.

He needed to make sure to remind her of that when he got home because even through the blowing snow, in near whiteout conditions, he was still able to figure out which house was yours because Ellie's drawing was so detailed, so accurate that it almost felt like he had been there before.

He was eager and impatient. He just wanted to get inside and get what he needed and leave, but before he did, he peered inside the windows and did a walk around the whole house three times, just in case. It was a small brick ranch and if the snow wasn't so thick, he would be able to see the black shutters framing the front windows, just like in the drawing.

He shouldered open the side garage door first, a pile of fluffy snow spilling over the hard concrete as he stumbled in and shimmied open the roll top door so he could bring his mare inside.

He pat her between the eyes, murmuring his thanks for being so damn tough and sprinkled some more oats on the ground before slipping inside the house.

The door from the attached garage led right into a kitchen, which, by the looks of it, was rifled through on more than one occasion. No doubt some survivors had come through over the years and turned the place upside down for anything useful, but that didn't matter to him. What he needed wouldn't be stolen.

Glancing at the fridge, he paused when he saw some photos stuck to the door. He leaned his rifle against the wall and shook his head, curls flinging melted snow over the dusty floor, then bent over to examine the pictures. Most of them didn't have you and he began to worry he was in the wrong house after all, but then he saw it: at the very top was a picture of four people, all wearing summer clothes and Mickey Mouse ears with the Cinderella castle in the background. A middle aged man and woman bookended a young man, lean but muscular with his arm draped around your shoulders.

You were younger, maybe still in high school, and your hair was longer and lighter, but he would recognize that smile anywhere.

He carefully plucked the photo from the fridge and brought it closer, his eyes raking over every detail of the picture, from the brightness in your eyes to the cotton candy pink sky behind you.

You looked so happy.

Nothing like the way you looked when he last saw you: broken and bruised. Ruined and dejected. Because of him.

You spared my life just to break my heart.

He blinked and pocketed the photo before turning around. The living room was in worse condition. It appeared someone must have stayed there at one point because the couches were shifted around, an armchair wedged in front of the door, cushions flung around haphazardly.

He had to move furniture out of the way, dig around a bit through broken bookshelves, but he managed to finally unearth an old photo album. Resting on one of the couch cushions with a huff, he took a few moments to flip through it, smiling now and then when he saw an especially cute picture of you. The wind outside was howling so loudly, the old house creaking with every gust that he couldn't hear when footsteps slowly crept up behind him and knocked him unconscious with the butt of his own rifle.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

He knew better. He should have scoped out the inside of the house before getting distracted. But he was too excited and too eager to get what he came for that he forgot his own rules. And he took for granted the snowstorm would hide his tracks.

Now he was hunched over on the living room floor, leaning against the wall with his wrists tied behind his back while five raiders went through his things.

"Hey man, don't you like peaches?"

"Fuck yeah I do, give it here."

Joel groaned, the back of his head throbbing, thick, sticky blood slowly trickling down the back of his neck.

"He's waking up."

"Hey, princess, how's the head?" one said with a sinister laugh. Joel ignored him.

"You got some nice shit. Wanna tell us where your camp is?"

Joel opened his eyes and glared at the man in front of him, wearing a leather jacket and leather gloves and a black bandana pulling his dark, wiry hair off his scarred face.

"Fuck you."

The punch came fast and hard across his jaw, making him see stars for a moment. The other men chuckled and got back to dividing up his things.

"You wanna try that again?" the first man asked, crouching down in front of him. Joel tugged on the rope holding his wrists together. The knot was tight but it wasn't foolproof. He just needed a little time to loosen it up.

"Don't got a camp."

"Bullshit," the man barked, spitting against the wall next to Joel's head. "Ain't nobody out here with this kinda gear and a goddamn horse roughing it all alone. Now, just tell us the city and we'll take it from there. We'll even let you live."

He heard one of the other men scoff but the rest remained quiet, and if Joel wasn't already convinced they were planning to kill him either way, he definitely was now.

"Boise."

"Boise?" he repeated, and Joel nodded, twisting his hands behind his back, feeling the coarse rope burn against his skin. The man in the leather jacket sighed and hung his head before landing another blow, this time across the mouth. Joel's lower lip got snagged on his teeth and tore. Blood trickled down his chin as he angrily whipped his head back towards the raider.

"I told you what you wanted!"

"You fed me a bunch of bullshit is what you did," he said, kicking Joel in the ribs. He gasped for air, doubled over against the wall, coughing and spraying blood across the faded floral wallpaper. He wondered if your parents did the wallpaper themselves, if your mom picked it out, or did the house already come like that?

Joel tugged harder on the rope, feeling it start to give. He needed to stay focused. He needed to make every move count if he wanted to get out of this alive.

The raider pulled a revolver from the back of his pants - Joel's revolver - and flipped it over in his hands. Back and forth, back and forth. Then he leaned forward and pressed the barrel against Joel's forehead.

"I'll give you one more chance, asshole," he said, his dark eyes boring into Joel's, "tell us where your camp is or else I shoot you in the fucking head."

"What the hell was he doing here anyway?"

"Shut up, Mike," the guy in the leather growled, eyes still trained on Joel.

"No, but seriously. There's nothing in this house worth taking. We've been through this neighborhood months ago."

The raider's eyes flickered around the room and Joel tugged harder on his restraints when he looked away. Then the man spotted the photo album lying face down on the ground.

"What's this?" he asked, lowering the gun and picking up the album. He began to flip through it and Joel felt the rope finally give. The raider let out a low whistle and slid a photo out to look at it closer. "Don't tell me you came out in the middle of a storm just to find something to jack off to," he teased, holding up a photo of you in a yellow bikini by a pool. He flipped the picture back around and grinned. When he went to stuff it in his pocket, his attention momentarily diverted, Joel took his opportunity to strike.

In the blink of an eye, he snatched the revolver from the raider's fingers and shot him in the temple, his body immediately falling limply to the side. Wet, sticky blood sprayed all over Joel's hand but he just tightened his grip on the gun, taking aim and bringing down another one of the men while they were still too stunned to move.

"Fuck!" one of the remaining three men screamed as they scrambled for cover. Joel ducked behind the couch and held his breath, straining to hear the scuffling of their boots, trying to pinpoint where they were in the small room. When he heard one of them accidentally knock against the kitchen table, the wooden legs scraping against the linoleum, he straightened up and took aim, taking out another man with a bullet right between the eyes, but unfortunately one of the last two men got a shot in as well.

The bullet grazed against his left bicep. Joel hissed and ducked back behind the couch. He would deal with it later.

"Come on, man, we can work something out," one of the men called out after a minute. "Let's just go our separate ways. Act like this never-"

Joel jumped up and shot the man in the cheek, the bullet traveling through his mouth and out the back of his head, leaving brain matter that looked like globs of gelatin dripping down the kitchen cupboards after he fell lifelessly to the ground.

Joel stepped towards the kitchen, now only one on one. He got cocky. He was feeling too confident with how quickly he took out the group. He didn't even see it coming when the knife lodged into his side, just above his hip. Without thinking, he yanked the knife out, twisted around and jammed it into the final raider's throat, watching as he fell to the floor, choking on his own blood, and didn't look away until he stopped twitching.

Adrenaline still coursed through his veins and he used it to his advantage, his left hand pressing weakly against his wound, the wound in his arm preventing it from being very effective while he searched the dead bodies of the men for anything useful. He had brought some first aid with him when he left Jackson but he was too far from home, he would need antibiotics, at least, if he was going to make it back.

Of course, he came up empty, so he snatched his first aid kit from the table and stumbled down the little hallway, searching for a bathroom. He knew it was a lost cause, the raiders already admitted to clearing the place out months ago, but he had to try.

He flung open the medicine cabinet with a grunt, the pain beginning to set in now. Pressing his bloody fingers against the stab wound as hard as he could, he rummaged around the cabinet, leaving paths of red everywhere his fingers touched, then tried the drawers under the sink.

Nothing.

"Fuck," he muttered, collapsing onto the cool tile floor as he began to sort through his first aid kit. There were no towels left but he was sitting on an old bathmat. He groaned in pain when he lifted his hips to pull the bathmat out, shook out the dust and dirt, then pressed it against his side, bringing his knee up to hold it in place.

With trembling fingers, he threaded a needle. He wiped the blood from his hands on his shirt, but they were stained red. Ripping open his jacket and flannel, he lifted the two other layers he had on underneath and lowered his leg to get a look at the wound.

It was deep and he was losing a lot of blood, but he was fairly certain the knife wasn't long enough to knick any organs. His stomach wasn't swelling, that was a good sign.

He only had a small bottle of antiseptic, so he used most of it to clean the wound and then the needle, saving a little bit to use on his arm later.

He took several quick breaths in, hyping himself up, then paused when he first shoved the needle through his skin. Tears sprung up, blurring his vision, but he blinked them away.

Focus. Focus. Focus.

In and out, in and out, he slowly stitched himself up. The angle was awkward and the stitches were ugly, but it got the job done: the bleeding stopped. His heart was hammering in his chest, sweat poured from the sides of his head, mixing with all the blood drying on his face and beard. He slumped to the ground with a pained groan, lying flat on the floor in a pool of his own blood, staring up at the ceiling. He just needed a moment to rest, a moment to catch his breath and then he would go.

Would he ever see you again? Would you ever even know why he came out there? Would you always wonder what happened to him? You told him you cared about him, but was that even true anymore? After what he did?

"C'mon, baby, gimme a sign," he whispered to himself, "gimme a sign that I still got a chance in hell 'cause if I don't, I'm not sure I got the strength to make it home." Tears welled up in his eyes again and this time he let them fall. He sniffled and waited. For what, he wasn't sure. Divine intervention? Genius to strike? A brilliant idea to form? But all he heard was the blowing wind outside.

The tile felt so cool against his burning hot skin. A small voice in the back of his head told him the longer he stayed there the weaker he would become, but he was just so tired. He rolled his head to the side, his eyes about to slide shut when he saw it: a dusty, opaque orange bottle rolled all the way against the wall underneath the sink.

Blinking a few times, he wondered if he was imagining it.

He wasn't.

Stretching his arm out, he slowly reached underneath the vanity and pulled out the half empty bottle. Holding it above his face, he squinted at the letters on the faded sticker.

Penicillin. Use as directed by your dentist.

His breath caught in his throat when he read your name on the label.

He finally got his sign.

"What happens when we die?"

"What?"

You rolled over onto your side to face him, wrapping your arm around his waist. He looked so peaceful, lying in bed like that. His eyes closed, face relaxed. You repeated your question.

"Don't know," he said, cracking open one eye to look at you. "Haven't died yet."

You giggled and he smiled, pulling you closer. He smelled so good. Like the rain and sex and smoke from the fire.

"I mean... do you think there's a heaven?"

He hummed and kissed the top of your head, his fingers lightly trailing up and down your bare arm.

"Yeah, I do."

You swallowed nervously and drew invisible circles into his skin, making him shiver.

"Do you think..." you trailed off and he froze, picking up on your tone.

"What, darlin'?"

"Do you think we'll make it? To heaven, I mean?"

His eyebrows pinched together. "Why wouldn't we?"

"You know why," you replied softly, "we've done bad things, Joel."

"Yeah, but we ain't bad people," he reminded you, then rolled over, pushing you onto your back so his arms caged you in. One knee slotted between yours and you spread your legs, hooking your ankles around the backs of his thighs.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," he said, dipping his chin down and pressing his lips firmly against yours. You sighed, your shoulders finally relaxing. "Besides, this is heaven right here," he murmured against your mouth, feeling you smile.

"Ain't nothin' better than this."

You awoke with a gasp, your heart fluttering wildly in your chest. That was the first time you had a dream about Joel, and something about it made you uneasy.

You had slept in his bed the entire week, wrapped in his clothes, and today was the day you had expected him to come home. Shrugging off the dream to no more than your subconscious fixated on his return, you forced yourself to get out of bed, fixing the sheets so it wouldn't look like you had been sleeping there and then headed to your room to change and freshen up.

The past couple days you had secretly hoped he would come back sooner but you refused to let it show. If Ellie or Dina or Maria asked you about it, you played it cool, or at least you thought you did. But every night you stayed up as late as you could, curled up on the couch all alone, waiting. Every time someone walked by, your body stiffened and your pulse raced, expecting to hear his heavy footsteps walking up the porch, but they never came.

But today was the day. The seventh day. His note said a week, and you knew if Joel was alive, he would stick to his word.

His absence afforded you a lot of time to think. Time you didn't realize you desperately needed, and now that you were able to process everything clearly without his overwhelming presence muddying the waters, you felt confident you knew what you wanted now.

All day at work, you were distracted. Nick had to call your name repeatedly to get your attention on more than one occasion, and by the fifth time you felt guilty. He didn't say anything, though. He understood. By then, most of the town knew Joel had left. Word spread like wildfire, especially once the storm passed through. It didn't take a genius to figure out how difficult it would be to survive all alone in those conditions.

Then the rumors started.

You tried to ignore them, but it was hard. When people began drinking and getting loud in the dining hall, it was impossible not to hear.

When you heard a man claim he saw Joel's horse frozen in a river during patrol, you stopped going to the dining hall to eat.

It was dark, it was just a deer, Tommy had told you later after he went out to the river to check, but it still shook you up.

When the sun set on Jackson on the seventh day and Joel still hadn't returned, the fear began to take hold. Your stomach churned, making it impossible to eat the following morning. You had hardly slept, the bags under your eyes dark and heavy. Nick begged you to take the day off but you insisted you needed to stay busy, although it didn't help much. On your lunch break you tried to casually walk by the main gate, the one near the stables, hoping to catch a glimpse of him returning, but you had no such luck.

So you went back to work. You kept your hands busy, tried to keep your mind occupied, but it was impossible.

I'll spend the rest of my life makin' it up to you.

You couldn't get those words out of your head. The guilt was weighing you down as you grew worried that was going to be one of the last things he ever said to you.

"Went on a date the other night."

"With who?"

"Cindy, from the kitchen."

Ricky laughed heartily and Andrew smacked his shoulder with the back of his hand.

"Shut up, man. We're on watch, we can't be giving ourselves away."

"It's the middle of the goddamn night and we haven't seen any infected in weeks. It's too cold for them, they're all frozen somewhere waiting to thaw in the spring," Ricky said, shouldering his rifle.

"Yeah, but still. You never know. There's more than just infected out there."

Ricky chuckled and shook his head. "Tommy telling you ghost stories again?"

"Raiders ain't ghost stories, asshole," Andrew shot back.

"And raiders never make it this far up the mountains, asshole," Ricky replied, mocking Andrew's tone.

Andrew grumbled under his breath and strolled away from the tower, towards the gate, his eyes scanning the treeline. He couldn't see a damn thing. It was pitch black and deathly quiet.

He turned on his heel and began the slow walk back towards the tower where he could see Ricky unwrapping a granola bar and pulling a paperback book from his back pocket.

Just as he was about to chastise him for letting his guard down, he heard twigs snapping in the woods. He whipped around, bringing his rifle up so he could get a better look with his scope.

"What the hell was that?" Ricky's whisper materialized in his ear.

"Dunno. Something's out there."

Ricky lifted his own rifle and scanned the trees as well, both of them holding their breath, waiting for another noise.

"Maybe-"

Then they heard more twigs snapping and pine trees raking against fabric. Louder this time.

"Fuck," Ricky muttered nervously, his palms growing sweaty inside his gloves.

"There," Andrew said lowly, and Ricky followed his aim. Something was approaching in the dark. Something big.

"I got it."

"No, just wait a second," Andrew said, squinting through the scope. Then his jaw went slack when he realized what it was.

"It's a horse."

"What?"

"It's a fucking horse, bro," Andrew repeated, his voice rising a little.

When it finally emerged from the forest, they saw the rider slumped over, covered in snow, their face buried in the horse's mane.

"Holy shit," Andrew said, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and racing towards the ladder. "Radio Tommy!"

"W-what do I say?" Ricky stammered, fumbling with the radio dial.

"Tell him it's Joel!"

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[pedroshotwifey]

Do you think you could write a nervous Joel fic... like he's older and a single dad and hasn't dated in a REALLY REALLY long time...but he's still really sweet, maybe he has to stop and eat reader cos he's about to cum too soon or something 🤷‍♀️😭

Hey, babe!! So I hope this is what you were hoping for! It's super tender and I did end up listening to Hozier for a good portion of it, so do with that information what you will 😅

Also, I kind of did something a bit different and wrote it more from Joel's perspective, but it's still in 2nd person (pronouns = you)! Pls lmk how you feel about it ❤

Pairing: Older Joel Miller x afab!reader

Tags/warnings: Age gap (not specified), piv sex, oral sex (f), vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, established relationship, (almost) premature ejaculation, accidental love confessions 🤭, self deprecating Joel™, big dick Joel™, kissing, stuff I'm probably forgetting

W/C: 1.9k

Summary: Your and Joel's first time together turns into so much more.

What Matters

“Are you sure, baby?” 

Joel watches as your eyes flick up to him, only kindness and patience in them. Even as you smile warmly and wrap your arms around his neck to pull him to you, he still has a sense of cautiousness in his movements. You’ve probably lost track of how many times he’s asked you if you’re sure. 

“Yes, Joel, I’m sure,” you laugh breathily. 

You’re both lying in his bed, half-naked. There’s a soft summer breeze coming in through the window and rustling the sheer curtains. The sun’s going down, but just barely, causing a perfect golden hue to coat the room. He can’t help but think that you look even more gorgeous than usual in this lighting.

Joel tries to ignore the nervousness in his stomach as he softly kisses your jaw and nuzzles up to you. He’s not stupid, he knows that you know he’s just trying to waste time, but you let him. You’re so fucking sweet like that. Always making him feel so wanted and appreciated. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be with you in this way, but that he’s worried he won’t be perfect for you. He wants to be able to show you affection in the same way that you show him. 

But what if he can’t?

You’re younger, after all, and he’s not been with a woman in so long. Maybe not since Sarah’s mom. If that’s the case, it’s been about fifteen, sixteen years. Point in case, you’re probably used to boys who can last longer and can make you come every time. What if he can’t? What if it’s been so long now, that he only lasts a couple of minutes? 

It terrifies him, the prospect that you may be disappointed in his performance. What if you decide to leave him because he’s not enough to get you off? No, he realizes, you would never do that. You’re so good, so thoughtful and generous and patient. You’d wait for him, help him get back to the point where he used to be. 

But that’s not what he wants. He wants to be good for you now. 

“Joel?” 

His name falling from your lips has his head raising back up. You look into his eyes with a desperation that he simply can’t ignore. 

“Please,” you whisper before planting a feather-light kiss to his lips. He nods slowly before he can think about it. 

“Alright, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” 

And he does, he knows it. He just hopes he can do it right. 

You’re already prepped. He spent probably half an hour fingering you to orgasm even though you had begged for the real thing each time you fell apart on his hand. It’s another thing he was worried about—being so big. Joel’s not a super cocky man by any means, but he is aware of his…attributes. 

He watches you carefully as he grasps his cock and guides it to your slippery entrance. Your eyes flutter shut as he pushes in, giving you about an inch each time he thrusts. His jaw goes slack once he’s about halfway in. You’re so fucking warm and wet and inviting. He keeps going, trying to keep his breathy whines at bay. He’s again reminded of just how long it’s been since he’s felt something other than the palm of his hand around himself. 

“Shit, baby,” he breathes as he bottoms out. He closes his eyes in concentration and lets his head hang next to yours. He already feels like he might blow his load at any second. You bring a hand up to cup his head and thread his curls through your fingers, holding him close. His breathing is heavy when he lifts himself back up to look into your eyes. 

His heart seems to skip a beat when he sees the adoration you’re looking at him with. It kills him every time. And no matter how many times you tell him that he deserves all your affection, he knows he’ll still find a lingering doubt in the back of his mind. There’s a reason the two of you have only been “together” for about four months even though you’ve been shamelessly flirting for about a year. 

It was just too good to be true. For such a sweet, gentle thing like you to want a rough old man like him. He was never the one to initiate anything, but he knows you’ve been aware that he had his sore eyes set on you since you met. How could he not? He’s never met anyone so kind and considerate. It was impossible to deny you of him any longer when it was one of the only things you’ve ever wanted for yourself. 

“You okay?” Your honeyed voice reaches his ears—or his good ear, rather—and he smiles at you. 

“‘Course, baby. Jus’ gotta give me a second, alright?” He can feel his cheeks getting a bit rosy at the confession. “It’s been a minute.” 

You nod, still no hesitation or any sign of regret. God, what did he do to deserve you? 

Once he collects himself, he pulls out just barely, and a groan tumbles from his mouth to mingle with your soft moan. He’s already starting to sweat from the effort of not coming too soon as he starts to push into you at a slow but rhythmic pace. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and tuck your head into his chest as you whimper with his thrusts. 

“You feel so good,” you whine. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, so d’ you. “Like goddamn heaven.” And you do; overwhelmingly so.

He cradles your head and lowers the two of you even more to deepen his thrusts. He knows he’s found your spot when your breath catches and you start to tighten around him every time he pumps his hips. Unfortunately, this makes it a lot harder for him to keep his composure. 

“H-honey, I have to pull out,” he grits out. He’s so embarrassed, it hasn’t even been five minutes. He won’t last long enough for you to come before him.

But you just nod into him, even though you must be devastated by the loss of your orgasm. “It’s okay, Joel,” you breathily assure him. 

He pulls out and squeezes the base of his cock, out of breath. He doesn’t meet your gaze as he starts to apologize.

“I’m sorry, baby, I—” 

“Joel,” You stop him by carefully grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at you. “It’s okay.” You nod, waiting for him to do the same before you continue. “Take as much time as you need. I love you no matter what. This does not determine—” 

You both realize what you said at the same time. Joel’s eyes widen and his chest feels like it caved into itself. Your lips stay still, parted in the middle of your sentence. Joel doesn’t realize tears have gathered in his eyes until his vision starts to blur and a smile spreads across his face. 

You love him. You said it. And he believes you. 

“I love you too, baby,” he whispers and lets his forehead rest against yours. “So damn much.” Fuck his age and whoever might see a problem with you being together. He wants this, and you want this, and that’s all that matters. 

Then you’re both laughing shakily, pressing kisses to each other’s lips. He only stops to start trailing them down your body instead, watching you writhe as his mustache tickles your bare skin. 

“Joel, p-please,” you beg quietly. Joel just huffs a small laugh through his nose as he lays himself between your legs, ignoring his protesting knees as he admires the entirety of you laying out just for him. You look fucking beautiful covered in a thin sheen of sweat atop his sheets, needy and panting all for him. 

He doesn’t waste too much time before putting his mouth on your sweet pussy, his tongue dragging up your slit to flick at your clit. Joel moans at your taste, sending vibrations racing toward your swollen bud. Your hips buck as your hands fly to grasp at his hair, tugging lightly and making his eyes roll back. 

He feasts on you like his life depends on it, worshiping you with all he has. He takes turns in running his tongue up you, fucking you with it the best he can, and suckling on your clit. He looks like a damn mess as he does so, his eyes not leaving your cunt unless he’s watching your face contort with pleasure. When you make eye contact with him, he knows he must look fucked out and desperate just based on the way you groan and lay your head back. 

It doesn’t take much for you to get to the edge, and it takes even less for him to push you over. You let out sharp, whiny sounds as he sucks on your clit and slips a couple of fingers inside of you to grip on to. Your entire body goes tense, and Joel has to resist the urge to smirk against you as you shake with the force of your orgasm. 

By the time you’re coming down, he’s back over you and slipping his tongue inside your mouth to share your taste. You moan into the kiss and pull him closer as he once again glides his tip into your cunt. Just as he had hoped, the distraction calmed him down enough to hopefully give him some more time. 

You both melt into each other as he bottoms out, the tip of his swollen cock hitting your cervix and making your thighs squeeze his torso. He starts at a faster pace than last time, too deep in his lust-filled haze to even try to slow down now. 

You pull away from his mouth to start leaving love bites on his neck, making his cock twitch inside of you with each pinch. He can feel you smile against his skin, and knows that you’ve found his secret. He does like a little pain with his pleasure. You keep going, sucking and biting marks before licking soothingly over them and moving to the next spot. You taste him like you’re addicted, like you could never possibly get enough.

It still doesn’t take him as long as he would like to before he starts to feel his balls drawing up and his thighs start to shake. His head goes foggy as he tries to hold on for you, but it’s too fucking much. He can’t hold it off when you feel so good around him. It’s like torture to stave off his orgasm when he’s thrusting into your soft heat. 

“Where d’ you want me, honey?” Joel asks you, his voice strained. 

“Inside,” you whisper against his neck without a second thought.

And it throws him over. He groans your name as his body stutters and his balls empty, coating your walls with his milky spend. It seems to go on forever. Each time he thinks he’s almost done, there’s another spurt and another wave of pleasure that tugs him deeper into euphoria. 

When it does end, he lets himself half-collapse on top of you. You embrace him with welcoming arms and the two of you catch your breath together in the now dark bedroom. He only pulls out once sleep threatens to take the both of you. A shower, snack, and a glass of water later, you both snuggle up together and fall asleep with content smiles and full hearts. 

*****

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[alltheirdamn]

DECLINED | Mechanic!Joel x f!reader

*The Bet*

Summary: Joel makes you a bet during a night out. Rating: 18+ Explicit Word Count: 3k Warnings: Pre-outbreak AU, mechanic!joel, established relationship, mentions of alcohol, banter, teasing, semi-public sex, unprotected piv sex, oral (f! receiving), edging, ROUGH sex, squirting, hair pulling, choking, cum eating, facial, light spanking, light face slapping, heavy kissing, explicit language, pet names (darlin', cowboy, babydoll), brat taming (kinda?) A/N: This is just pure FILTH. Eat it up, kids, I know you love it.

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Friday nights always meant date night with Joel. With Tommy babysitting Sarah and the work day done for you both, he insisted on taking you to his favorite bar on the outskirts of town. You were looking forward to a night alone, especially when you had a surprise up your sleeve. Earlier in the week, you came across a boutique in downtown Austin that sold very…niche t-shirts…and couldn’t help buying one. Putting the finishing touches on your makeup, you stepped back and admired your outfit. You had on the tiniest pair of cut-off denim shorts hugging your ass, a pair of worn black cowboy boots, and a fitted tank top with Cowboy Pillows written across your chest. It was perfect, and you knew it would drive Joel crazy. 

Joel stopped dead in his tracks when you came waltzing out of the house and toward his truck; the hand holding open the passenger door tightened until his knuckles turned white. 

Staring you down with a fire lit behind his big puppy dog eyes, Joel shook his head in protest.

“Absolutely the fuck not, babydoll,” he swore. “Take that pretty ass back inside and change.”

You stood before the truck with your arms crossed and the biggest pout forming on your lips. 

“Did you even read my shirt, cowboy?” You asked, moving your arms to reveal the words stretched over your breasts. 

“It’s very cute, darlin’, but you ain’t goin’ out like that,” Joel grumbled. 

“Why?” You frowned. 

“I ain’t tryna get arrested tonight. ‘Cause if one man lay eyes on those perky tits, I’m killin’ them.”

You strode toward him, pressing your body against his. His hands found their usual spot over the swell of your ass, his fingers prodding into the supple flesh hidden under the denim. You hummed as his mouth dipped to your ear, his teeth grazing over the shell as his voice dropped low. 

“Why don’t we just stay in?” He breathed. “Wanna take you right back in the house and fuck you ‘til you can’t walk.”

“You promised me a night out, Joel,” you whined. 

He made his way down your neck, peppering you with open-mouthed kisses before responding to your demands.

“Fine,” he muttered against your skin. “Get your sexy ass in the fuckin’ truck, and let’s go.”

He released you and climbed into the truck with a mischievous grin. Joel quickly pulled you across the bench, tucking you into his side as he pulled out of the driveway and toward the bar. You brushed your hand over Joel’s thigh, your fingers creeping up to the zipper of his jeans. He shifted in the seat, spreading his legs a little wider to welcome more of your touch. 

“You’re gonna get yourself in trouble, babydoll,” he warned. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied innocently. 

His hand shot out before you could drag his zipper down, bringing your fingers up to his mouth to place gentle kisses along each digit. 

“I’ll make you a bet,” he smirked, turning his head to look at you.

“What kind of bet?”

“No touchin’ each other tonight. The first person to do it loses.”

A giggle bubbled out of you as you considered his offer. Knowing Joel, he’d lose before you stepped into the bar. The idea of teasing him all night already had your thighs clenching tight, the friction of the denim against your aching clit nearly too painful to bear.

“What happens to the loser?” You asked.

“Loser gets to do whatever the other one wants.”

The truck slowed to a stop as the streetlight turned red, and you moved closer to reel him in for a deep kiss. If this bet was going to happen, you wanted all the attention before you set out to win the bet. Joel’s tongue brushed over your lips, coaxing your mouth open wider and deepening the kiss. You moaned into his mouth, tangling your hands in his hair to hold him closer. 

“You’re on, cowboy,” you grinned, pulling away as the light turned green. “Hope you’re ready to lose.”

“We’ll see ‘bout that, darlin'.”

The bar was mildly crowded for a Friday night. Most of the patrons were older men sulking around or flirting with the bartenders. Soft country music floated out of the jukebox in the corner, and you found yourself swaying your hips to the melody. Joel watched you as you danced, his eyes never leaving your body unless he caught wind of another man admiring you from afar. You laughed each time he scowled at them and upped the movement of your hips just to get a rise out of him. Watching him try to hold back from touching you was cute, his hand nearly crushing the beer he was nursing. 

After your third drink, the tipsy feeling started to settle in, and self-restraint was slowly phasing out of your body. Joel noticed the shift in your mood as you perched yourself on a barstool. You tried to hide the way you clenched your thighs, chasing the friction of the denim rubbing against your aching clit. Leaning in as close as he could, Joel lowered his head and chuckled. 

“Doin’ okay, babydoll?” He whispered in your ear, his mouth a breath away from your neck.

You shivered at the phantom touch; he was so close, yet not close enough. 

“Stop it,” you exhaled. “You’re not playing fair.”

“Not playin’ fair?” He questioned. “You ain’t been playin’ fair since you walked out the damn house.”

“Aw, poor baby,” you feigned sympathy. “Am I driving you crazy with my lil’ outfit?”

“You have no fuckin’ idea, darlin’.”

Scootching off the barstool, you tilted your head toward the vacant pool table. Joel’s eyes followed the motion, raising his brow at your silent invitation.

“Y’wanna play?” He asked. “Hope you’re ready to lose, darlin’.”

“You talk a big game, cowboy. You’re on.”

You grabbed a cue stick and waited for Joel to rack the balls and center them on the green velvet table. He grabbed his own stick and gestured to you to start. 

“All you, babydoll. Let’s see it.”

You rounded the table and leaned over to line your stick with the cue ball. Inhaling on the pull of your stick, you exhaled and drove it into the cue. The sound of the resin balls breaking shattered the music in the background, their triangle formation scattering across the table. You managed to sink two striped balls into the left corner pocket and rose to assess the damage. Joel stared at you, impressed, nodding as he lined up his stick with the cue. 

“Y’got stripes, babydoll. Solid’s are mine,” he mutters, his eyes trained on the ball. 

You watched, mesmerized, as Joel’s shoulder muscles moved fluidly with each extension of his arm. With a strong drive of the stick, Joel sunk the four ball into the right-center pocket. Giving you a cocky grin, he rounded the table again, this time directly facing you. He stared up at you, his eyes dark under the furrow of his brows. You bent over the table's edge, propping your face onto your hands and shimming your shoulders slightly. Joel’s eyes snapped up to your chest, fixated on the way your breasts pushed together.

“Not fair,” he gritted before sending his stick into the cue ball. 

The ball scratched on the table, missing the solid he aimed for. You smirked at him, sticking your tongue out as you skipped around the table to settle into position against the table. You eyed Joel as he moved to stand behind you, and you rewarded him with pushing your ass out further. Giving your hips a little wiggle, you sent a forceful shot into the cue, sinking the nine ball and ricocheting it against the twelve ball, sending it into the right corner pocket. 

“Damn,” Joel mumbled, tracking your body as you lined up for your third turn. 

“Didn’t think I was good, huh?” You laughed. 

“You’re good at everythin’, darlin’.”

The dip in his voice vibrated up your body as you pressed your legs against the table to line up for the next stroke. Joel leaned his hip against the corner of the table, folding his arms as he watched you aim your stick at the cue. 

“C’mon, babydoll,” he whispered, drawing your focus away from the shot and causing the cue ball to sink into the pocket rather than the fifteen ball you were gunning toward. 

“You play dirty,” you grumbled. 

Joel crowded you, his body inches from yours. You arched into the distance between your bodies, barely keeping your chest from brushing his. 

“I bet those panties are already soaked, huh?” Joel teased.

You gave him an innocent smile, ready to deliver the final blow to his restraint. Rising onto your toes, you kept your mouth close to his ear. 

“They would be if I were wearing any, cowboy.”

You pulled back to see Joel’s nostrils flaring, his eyes roaming down your body and back up. 

“Bathroom. Now.” He demanded. 

“But we’re still playing,” you whined, gesturing to the pool table. 

Joel’s hand shot out to your waist, dragging you to his body. 

“Fuck the game. Need you in that bathroom now so I can fuck that sassiness outta you,” he growled. 

“I’m not sassin’ you, cowboy. You’re just a sore loser,” you taunted. 

“I ain’t gonna ask again, babydoll. You either walk to the bathroom right now, or I fuck you on that pool table in front of everyone.”

“Maybe I want a crowd,” you shrugged with a coy grin. “Bend me over right here, cowboy. Show them who’s yours.”

“Bet you’d like that, huh? Have all them eyes on you while you scream my name and soak the table. Y’wanna show everyone how good y’take my cock?”

“Do it,” you smiled. 

Joel’s hand traveled down your ass, squeezing it hard enough to make you yelp before smacking it hard. A few heads turned at the sound, their wandering eyes scrutinizing you and Joel. Even though Joel could be all talk, you knew he wouldn’t actually fuck you in front of everyone, not when he was the most protective and selfish man there was. 

You were too turned on to fight it now. Turning toward the bathroom, you glanced over your shoulder and smiled as Joel watched you walk to the dimly lit hallway of the bar. You didn’t have the care to notice heads turning to stare at you as you passed, the excitement too strong as it coursed through your veins. You barely had a hand on the door when you felt a warm body pressed against your back, and Joel was quick to shove you inside the one-stall bathroom. With a quick turn of the lock, he had you pinned to the ceramic sink and his mouth crashing against yours. While you tangled your fingers into his messy curls, Joel worked at your shorts, tugging the tight denim down your hips and thighs. He broke away from your lips, staring down at your bare sex as you spread your legs slightly. 

“Fuckin’ christ, babydoll,” he exhaled. “Can’t believe you been keepin’ this from me all night.”

“Like what you see?” 

Joel wrapped two strong hands behind your thighs and lifted you onto the edge of the sink. You gasped at the shock of the cold against your bare ass, bucking your hips forward to search for his warmth. He lowered himself onto his knees, keeping a firm grip on your thighs as you settled your calves over his shoulders. Peering up at you between your parted legs, Joel gave you a wicked grin before brushing his nose up your inner thighs. 

“You know I won, right?” You questioned as his tongue pressed against your throbbing clit. “Technically, I should be calling the shots.”

Joel glared up at you, his pupils blown wide under the red lights of the bathroom. 

“Y’can call the shots all you want later,” he mumbled. “Right now, you’re mine.”

You cried as his tongue dipped inside you, his jaw working overtime to pull each pitiful sound from your body. He drew circles around your slick folds, purposefully avoiding your aching clit. You whined every time his tongue brushed close to it, that agonizing surge of pleasure coursing through your body. Music from the bar drifted into the bathroom, layering over the frustrated cries leaving your lips. 

“Stop teasing, cowboy,” you panted, bucking your hips against his tongue.

“This is what ya’ get, darlin’,” Joel spoke against your wet cunt.

“Please,” you begged.

He pulled away entirely, leaving you chasing the orgasm you never got. Spinning you toward the mirror, Joel worked at freeing his cock with one hand while pressing the other hand into your spine. You flattened against the sink, your hands pressed against the mirror. Glancing up, you met his eyes in the mirror, watching as his lips twitched into a devilish grin. That was all the warning he gave before he drove into you in one fluid stroke. 

“Fuck!” You cried, your head falling between your shoulders.

Joel’s hand wound around your hair, twisting it into a ponytail and yanking your neck back until you strained against his grip. 

“Nuh uh, babydoll,” Joel grunted. “Watch me while I fuck you.”

You locked your eyes with his through the reflection, watching as his face twisted into something carnal. He pounded into you with enough force to make the sink underneath you creak with the weight pressed against it. Joel kept a relentless pace, dismissing every whine and sob falling off your lips. He reached around you with his other hand, wrapping his hand around your throat and squeezing tight. You heaved in a breath as your vision blurred, the pleasure mixing with pain every time he slammed into you.

Your orgasm started surging up through your core, snaking into your bloodstream and becoming unbearable to hold back. You choked out a sob, your thighs quaking as the pleasure built inside your stomach.

“Joel,” you choked. 

“Y’need to cum, babydoll?” Joel taunted, driving into you hard.

His cock hit the right spot over and over again until he felt your cunt clenching around him. He pulled out at the exact moment your orgasm exploded through your body, liquid gushing out of you and down your thighs. Joel growled in approval, sinking back into you as the aftershocks sent tremors through your limbs.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he praised. “Keep takin’ my fuckin’ cock. I ain’t done yet, babydoll.”

His hand was still gripping your throat, his fingers applying more pressure to cut off your ragged whimpers. You clawed at the edge of the sink, entirely at Joel’s mercy as he wrecked into you harder…faster. He didn’t lie when he said he was going to fuck the sass out of you; you were helpless in this moment. 

But you fucking loved it.

“So. Fuckin’. Good.” Joel punched out each word through every thrust. 

Joel released your throat and wrapped both hands in your hair, using it to guide your hips back against his cock. You were so full of him and so sore, but you couldn’t deny the pressure swelling inside your stomach. You gasped for air as each thrust grew stronger, his cock assaulting you until you spasmed under him and let your orgasm rush out of you. 

“Fuck! Fuck… fuck… fuck,” you chanted, chasing the throbbing pulse inside your body. 

Warm liquid drenched his cock, the lewd sound of his hips meeting yours echoing around you. Joel pulled out suddenly, leaving you hollow and soaked. Wrangling you to your knees, Joel pumped his cock over your open mouth, grunting out your name as his release painted your tongue and lips. Bending down to eye level, Joel lapped up the cum dripping off your swollen lips before bringing his hand up to slap your cheek. He rubbed a hand over your face, smearing your makeup around, leaving you a fucked-out mess.

“Y’look so pretty like this,” he hummed, pulling you in for a hungry kiss. You whimpered into his mouth, his tongue intertwining with yours. 

“I love you, babydoll,” he sighed, pressing his lips against your forehead. 

“I love you too, cowboy,” you preened. 

You were used to him being rough—dominant—but this possessiveness was intoxicating. You wanted more.

“I think I should sass you more often,” you giggled. 

“You enjoy bein’ fucked like a bratty lil’ slut?” He smirked. 

“Love it,” you exhaled, dragging him back to your mouth. 

Joel helped you back into your shorts after you both took a moment to breathe. You turned towards the mirror and admired the complete mess that you were; your hair was mangled into knots, your shirt was askew, and your face was covered in streaks of mascara, smeared lipstick, and drool. A giggle bubbled out of you as you tried to tame down your hair and wipe away some of the makeup coating your rosy cheeks. Joel grabbed your hand, tugging you away from the mirror.

“Leave it,” he whispered. “Want everyone to see how filthy you are.”

“Seriously?” You gaped. 

Joel nodded his eyes, his eyes coasting over your body. 

“Seriously, babydoll. Need to show them you’re mine.”

“I think they already know,” you said pointedly. “I’m pretty sure I was loud enough to break the jukebox.”

He chuckled at your statement, tapping your ass and guiding you toward the door. Dropping his mouth to your ear, he softly kissed your neck before twisting the lock open.

“C’mon, darlin’. Let’s go home so y’can have your way with me.”

“I’m going to make you pay for this, cowboy,” you warned. “I'm going to have you on your knees begging for it.”

“I’ll happily worship you all night, babydoll,” he smiled, kissing your cheek before guiding you into the hall and out to his truck.

#mechanic!joel #joel miller x f!reader #joel x f!reader #joel x female reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #joel tlou #pre outbreak!joel #one shot #drabble #this is just filth

[jksprincess10]

White face and black eyes || Joel Miller x reader

Summary: You explore an abandoned mall and Joel discovers one of your kinks.

CW: Sub/dom dynamics, reader is hinted at being younger and not knowing much of the world before so age gap, mask kink, pet names (darling, honey, baby, little girl), praise kink, Joel is rough, a bit of knife play, fingering, bj, riding, publicish sex in a post-apocalyptical setting, reader is cock drunk, minimal editing and all mistakes are mine.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

“I’m goin’ to the right, you’re goin’ to the left. We join in the middle.” Joel ordered, flashlight over his gun as he looked around carefully, an eagle watching a potential pray.

“Fine.”

Part of your exploration consisted of visiting this old mall to find anything of substance. Sadly, in the midst of the panic, everything was mostly taken. Still, you sometimes found something interesting and new to you. Like this little cabin that looked like a time machine you found after walking for a bit. It was a rectangular cabin, the opening covered by a threadbare curtain. Withing the faded letters, you could barely distinguish the words “photobooth”. You were foreign to this concept, being born not too long before the modern world ended.

Carefully, you stepped inside the weird cabin. It was a tight fit. Inside was a weird broken screen and a tiny seat, that could only fit two people max. You pressed the buttons, and a weird mechanical voice made you jump.

At almost the same time, the curtain opened, and you were met with an elongated white mask with an absurdly long dark mouth and equally black eyes. You muffled a scream under your hand. You heard Joel’s familiar chuckle under the plastic mask.

“What the fuck, Joel!”

“Did I scare ya, darlin’?”

“Yes!”

But the more you looked at him, the more something strange stirred in you. Joel was an attractive man, you weren’t blind. But the familiarity of seeing his flannel-covered chest and broad shoulders mixed with the foreignness of the mask on his face made you feel… aroused.

“Why are you lookin’ at me like that?”

“Fuck it.” You mumbled and pulled Joel in the cabin. “Sit down.”

It was a tight fit, but curious, Joel obeyed. His spread thighs were taking up the whole space as you kneeled in front of him.

“Keep it on, please.”

His rough hand grabbed the base of your neck and the menacing black holes looked down at you as he tutted. “S’enough orders, honey don’t ya think?”

 “S-Sorry.”

“Good.” 

You looked down at his gun hidden in his holder as he took his pocketknife in his hand, using the pointy end to keep your chin up. “You gonna listen to me now?”

“Yes sir.”

Joel’s free hand undid his leather belt and you watched in wonder as he freed his strained cock. His hand circled its girth, pumping it a few times.

“Ya want it?”

You let out a desperate noise and with a dark laugh, he freed you, letting you go wild. You wrapped your mouth around his aching cock, tasting the headiness and saltiness of him. You moaned around him, the vibrations of your voice sending shivers down his spine. You kept your eyes strained on his masked face, a mixture of arousal and fear pooling in your panties. You shut your thighs together, desperately trying to gain some friction as you bobbed your head up and down his cock, giving him your best performance. You could hear his muffled grunts under the mask and feel his body tensing, the knife long abandoned on the floor.

“You wan’ more of that cock, yeah?” He grabbed the base of your neck to pull you away, watching as a mixture of spit and pre-cum escaped your lips. You nodded dumbly and let him pull you up, before stripping off your pants and panties.

“Mask kink, huh?” He observed as two of his thick fingers collected some of the wetness on your slit. “Didn’t know ya were such a dirty lil’ girl.” Joel’s calloused digits circled your clit at a practiced pace, and you fell against him, made limp by pleasure.

“Please Joel, can I have it?” You asked between moans.

“Don’t wanna hurt ya.” There was a hint of sweetness in his voice, despite him treating you so roughly minutes ago.

“I can take it!” You whined.

“Yeah? Then don’t ya fuckin’ whine if it hurts, baby.”

You straddled his hips. “I won’t.” You promised.

His big hands held your hips as he let you sink down on his cock, slowly.

“Look at me.”

Your gaze fixated on the white face and black holes that replaced his eyes, your mouth parting slightly as you let him stretch your walls, molding your body to his girth.

“Good girl.” He grumbled while he bottomed out. “Now stay still and le’me fuck ya.”

Joel’s hips moved at a painfully fast pace, letting you no time to adjust. Pain and pleasure melted together in your core and if you weren’t worried about getting killed by strangers in an abandoned mall, you’d scream.

“J-Joel… C-Can I see your face now?”

He slowed his hip thrusts. “Thought you didn’t wanna see it, huh?” He let go of your hips with one of his hands and slipped the mask off, letting it fall on the bottom of the cabin.

“I-I wanna see how y-you look at me while you fuck me, Joel.”

He grabbed onto your hips again and his dark gaze held yours as he thrusted up roughly, hitting that spongey spot inside of you that made you see stars. You struggled to keep your eyes open, but you held your gaze to his honeyed brown orbs, your mouth falling open in a silent scream. Your orgasm was destructive, and his was equally as intense as he stilled inside of you, hot spurts of cum painting your walls.

You fell limply against him, and your mouth slotted onto his, tasting Joel’s new familiarity.

“We might not have found much, but I want to keep the mask.” You chuckled against his lips.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x yn #joel miller x y/n #joel miller tlou #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x f reader

[joelsgu4tar]

JOEL MILLER FIC RECS

⇾ 18+ minors DNI, read at your own risk! ⇽

an appreciation to all my favourite writers out there you deserve all the love <3

Series

— Something To Fight For by @auteurdelabre | After a disastrous blind date you decide to stay away from the miserable Joel Miller forever...

— I Know Who You Are by @punkshort | A fall on patrol causes you to lose your long-term memory, forgetting the identities of your friends and loved ones. You have to learn all over again how to survive in a post-apocalyptic world, and you learn things about yourself along the way.

— The One You Need by @loliwrites | When you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at arm’s length, your neighbour Joel finds his way into your life.

— By The Grit Of Sandpaper by @penvisions | An offhand comment from you inspires Joel to branch out and create helpful kitchen wares. And it seems everyone has been gifted one from him, except for you. It makes you rethink the casual friendship you had developed...

— I Wanna Be Your Lover by @shellshocklove | Miserable after losing your job, your friend drags you out to a club to dance away your sadness. on the dancefloor, you meet a handsome stranger, who then whisks you away into his fantasy world as his assistant for his porn career. what happens when the lines get blurred?

— If The Door Wasn't Shut by @heartpascal | months of travelling with Joel and Ellie come crashing down on you, the fear is suffocating.

— Stay In Bed by @psychedelic-ink | After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance.

— That's A Real Fucking Legacy by @wyn-n-tonic | When Tommy disappears in search of a better life with a promise to come back for you, his years of absence and the grief it leaves behind drives you and his brother closer together until the man you're sharing a bed and starting a family with is Joel Miller and not the one you always thought it would be.

One-Shots

— No Time To Die by @davosmymaster | The main difficulty of being Joel’s closest friend is not falling in love with him, but you still do. Those feelings are buried until you join him on a mission to trade supplies with Bill and Frank. With your life now hanging by a thread, Joel is determined to get you to safety, but the clock is ticking faster than he can run.

— White Lies by @poeticpascal | Joel would do anything for you. He does anything for you. And he makes sure you don't know a thing.

— Saying Thanks by @vivwritescrappythings | 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.

— Soft & Sweet by @cavillscurls | You share your first kiss with the last man you ever expected: your older, grouchy, overly protective patrol partner, Joel Miller.

— Who We Are by @gracieheartspedro | Being stuck on the road with an older guy you've been crushing on for ages won't be so bad, right? wrong. because he's been pining after you, too. and one of you will have to give in eventually.

— Warm Me Up by @tightjeansjavi | While on patrol, you and Joel find yourselves caught in a treacherous snowstorm.

— Love In the Time Of Cordyceps by @sameheart-sameblood | When the world ends, you promise you'll never love again. Joel Miller makes that rule hard to stick to.

— Puppy Love by @absurdthirst | You always follow Joel Miller around, you've got his back. You're in love with him. Putting up with Tess's nickname of puppy dog, you don't realize that Joel feels for you until the end.

— Light The Flame by @yeollie-plz | Your mom moves the two of you back to Texas and attempts to reignite an old flame. What will happen when she learns his candle now burns for you?

— Best I Ever Had by @endlessthxxghts | Someone tries to hit on you on your night out with Joel, insulting your man in the process, and oh you don't like that. You blow off some steam in more ways than one.

— Make A Move On Me by @freelancearsonist | You've been teasing Joel every day since he started remodelling construction on your house. He finally works up the courage to do something about it - but not in the way you expect him to.

— Fire Walk by @motherofagony | A chance encounter at a motel has you crossing paths with a stranger in a blue t-shirt.

— Cry Baby by @psychedelic-ink | bodies have been dropping left and right in the most brutal ways in Jackson. As the relentless wave of deaths continues, your mind becomes increasingly restless. however, you find a sense of comfort and solace in the presence of Joel. who might be hiding secrets of his own.

#joel miller #joel tlou #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel fanfic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller au #joel miller fic #joel miller oneshot #joel miller smut #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x oc #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #soft joel miller #joel miller blurb #joel miller masterlist #joel miller series #hbo joel miller #joel miller imagine #game joel miller #joel miller one shot #joel miller self insert

[creedslove]

BESTIEEE I know you’re probably not taking any request now but… since I’m a slut for angst… it came up in my mind reader and Joel being together, she wants kids, he doesn’t since he’s way older than her and already had Sarah so he’s not up to have another kid at his age and reader agreed with that for the sake of their relationship and because she just loves Joel so damn much so she’s willing to give up her desire of becoming a mom. But they’re like at a friend party or at the park and he sees her playing with some friend’s kids and her eyes just sparkle so Joel feels sad for taking away that from her and he gives her the talk “I love you but I need to let you go cause I just want your happiness so she can have kids with someone else and the end is up to you 🥹❤️❤️

No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

A/N: hi bestie, I know it's been a few days since I got this ask, and even if I was focused on a certain cowboy, you can be sure this lovely idea hasn't left my mind because it's just so perfect and great, thank you for sharing 🤌

• when you'd traced plans in your life, you had always established some goals: study, get a nice job, travel, be happy, get married and have a family. That was pretty much all you wanted from life, since it seemed only fair you could have it all

• what you did not plan nor expect, was falling in love with a handsome, older and charming man; the heart wants what the heart wants and in your case, your heart (and let's be honest, your body and soul too) wanted Joel Miller, but who wouldn't want him?

• he was big, broad, handsome, strong, he had great hair, beautiful puppy brown eyes and we were only talking about his physical features, although he was much more than that: he was also smart, hardworking, responsible, he was a great dad and even if he seemed a little shy or like he kept to himself, he had so much love to give, and much to your luck, he wanted you as much as you wanted him

• so you simply clicked, despite Joel being older than you; it wasn't a deal breaker for you, it never was, because if by any means that became a problem, you wouldn't even start dating to begin with; although there were some generational conflicts that was quite amusing to see: Joel referred to TV shows, some movies or ads you'd never even heard of in your life, while he didn't get why you always thought those stupid silly videos on your phone were so funny. He didn't really get Taylor Swift - or he pretended he didn't - and you would absolutely fall asleep midway pretty much every movie he claimed he'd watched at the movies when he was a teen and it simply kicked ass

• bur nothing that came even close to being a problem. Sarah enjoyed that exchange, she knew her dad was a modern man, she also knew he looked good by the amount of women who would shamelessly swoon around him, but she always worried he would simply lock himself inside once she took off to live her own adventures, so she appreciated how much you loved and cared about him, making her happy to see how much her dad really loved and cared about you too

• you both had a great relationship, it was mature, sexy, full of understanding, passion and partnership, but Joel being an experienced man, knew it was important to put all the cards on the table before you two were in too deep to decide what was a deal breaker or not

• so you both talked openly about your plans and ambitions for the future, your no's and things like this, to decide beforehand if it was worthy

• you were on board with almost everything, with the exception of Joel being honest and clear about the fact he was older, he had already gone through the fatherhood experience - which had been quite traumatic even if Sarah was the thing he loved the most in his life - and that he didn't want to go through it again, which meant kids were definitely off the table

• you felt your heart shattering; you've always wanted to have kids, and not only that, you could see Joel being a perfect dad to your kids, because not only was he already an amazing father, but he had all the great qualities of a partner, and perhaps a future husband, and to make things worse, Joel did want all of those things with you, he wanted to spend the rest of his life by your side, to give you his name and a home, but not kids

• and even if he knew you wanted kids and you knew it too, you decided to suppress this side of you, because you loved him so much, you thought it was worth sacrificing your desire to have Joel in your life; maybe life would be easier and better if you just stayed with each other, you'd be happy, no doubt about it, and just hoped you wouldn't feel incomplete at everything else

• Joel wasn't insensitive though, he knew that decision took a toll on you, it was complicated and it pained him to think he was the reason why you still hadn't made your wish come true, but how could he get into something he didn't want to? If roles were reversed, it would be too unfair to ask you to have his child, so he tried telling himself he wasn't holding you back

• however, what was so hard was that in addition to knowing about your wish to be a mom, he could see how good you'd certainly be at it; the way little kids and babies immediately took a liking to you, often wanting to play and cuddle and the way you were always so caring and attentive towards them, it always brought a pang into his chest, it hurt to see you not having it because of him

• as much as he loved you and cherished your presence and relationship, that guilt started eating him up alive; he was getting more and more upset about it, the way you simply didn't complain or insist on it also made him upset and worried, he didn't know what to do, he got to the point where he felt tortured to see you interacting with little kids, because he could tell how much you wanted that reality for yourself but he was stopping you from it

• when you both were invited to one of his cousin's baby's first birthday, you immediately accepted the invitation. Joel thought about declining it, but then, what could he say? he had no excuses of any sorts to simply say no, so there was no way other than going and that was it

• he was sort of enjoying the party, having a beer with his relatives and having some treats when he spotted you around the kids: you were having so much fun, simply the life of the party, as the kids giggled and cheered around you, all happily and excitedly, and you wouldn't leave them at all

• Joel's heart shattered, he couldn't keep on doing that to you, it was too much, he loved you and if you love someone you gotta do your best to make them happy, and in that situation he was aware he wasn't doing everything at his power for that, so he swallowed hard, as he took a decision, it was a hard one, but it had to be done

• so once the party was over, you noticed Joel's sadden expression, even if you asked him what was going on, he didn't say it, he just shook it off and said it was work problems, not wanting to extend the subject, you just shrugged and didn't say anything else, leaving the tension home, sensing things weren't going to be easy

• so a couple of days after the party in which things weren't great, Joel finally took the courage to come forward and talk to you about things

"I love you, darling. I swear I do, with all my heart, but I know I'm not making you totally happy, not as happy as you can fully be. I can't stay here, preventing you from finding someone you will really be happy with, someone you will be able to build a life with. You deserve it, baby. I can't give it to you, but I can't see you suffering any longer"

• it broke your heart, you didn't want to break things up with Joel, you loved him, but you were honored to see how much he cared for you, it wasn't easy to recover and get things back on track, having to remodel your life after breaking up with Joel, getting used to being without him, but time heals all, you learned after a while

• Joel also had to relearn how to live his life without you; it was complicated but he loved you so, so he trusted his gut in letting you go, especially a couple of years later, when Sarah came over to visit him with her new boyfriend and handed him her phone: she'd found your Instagram and it showed you happily married to some guy named Marcus Pike, apparently he was an FBI agent, gentle and good-looking and extremely excited to announce he was going to be a dad for the first time ❤️

____

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal headcanon #pedro pascal headcanons #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller headcanon #joel miller headcanons

[theetherealbloom]

BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM - SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: After harboring a crush on your dad's charming best friend, Joel Miller, you graduate college only to be confused by something he supposedly said to you, but then he and his daughter Sarah, reluctantly move away due to his work. Six months later, Joel returns to town, and you're desperate to confirm if his words were real. Both you and your dad eagerly await his arrival but for entirely different reasons. As feelings intensify, you realize that falling for him might not be temporary after all.

Paring: Dbf!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, AGE-GAP Romance, Reader is Early twenties and Joel is in his late 30s to early 40s, Secret Romance, Sneaking around, FLUFF, SMUT, SMUT, SMUT, Heavy Make Out Session, Kissing, Barely any plot, Relationship, Swearing, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, Flattery, Awkward, Virgin reader, inexperienced reader, slightly Self Deprecating, Suggestive Content,

Main Song: But Daddy I Love Him by Taylor Swift

Main Masterlist

Chapter One: I Know He's Crazy, But He's The One I Want Chapter Two: Just Screeching Tires And True Love Chapter Three: Coming Soon... Epilogue: Coming Soon...

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader series #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader tlou

[joelswritingmistress]

Camp Crystal Lake: Chapter 7

Requested by @yellowjacketsbuzzbuzz

Joel Miller x f!reader (romance/horror)

Setting: Camp Crystal Lake

The reader is taking on the position of a camp counselor at the infamous Camp Crystal Lake. While she begins to enjoy her summer, even crushing on the camp director Joel, a killer lurks in the woods unbeknownst to anyone.

The night was low key. I could tell everyone was at least a little tired from working, and playing, in the hot sun all day. Mark sat on the porch with a book in his lap, and as I entered the cabin from exploring the grounds a little I saw Vicki wander over to sit beside him.

When I entered the cabin, Jeff and Sandra sat in the living room toying with an old record player. Scott laid the length of the couch with his hands behind his head and his eyes closed. I saw he had an ear pod in and was gently bobbing his head to whatever music was playing.

Joel looked over his shoulder from where he was retrieving hot dogs and hamburgers from the fridge and smirked subtly at me as I entered. I smiled back and toyed with a few stray strands of hair by my forehead.

“(Y/N),” Sandra called, waving me over.

I wandered over toward where she held a few albums in her arm like a pair of books. “Hey, did you guys get in trouble?” I asked quietly.

She shook her head. “Nah. Joel just told us not to go back over there.”

“Did you see anything creepy?”

“We didn't get that far,” Jeff claimed. “The cop picked us up before we could go inside any of the old cabins.”

“Anyone want burgers or dogs?” Joel asked aloud. He held a package of hotdogs in the air as we all glanced over.

Jeff held a hand up and then Sandra did the same. I gave a nod and Scott sat up from where he laid.

“Food?” He asked, removing his ear pods.

Joel snickered and confirmed with a nod. “Food.”

Annie appeared at the top of the open staircase toying with her damp, towel-dried hair. “Shower’s free if anyone needs to get in.” Her croc-clad feet peppered down the stairs. “I'll be back in a little bit.”

“You want anything to eat?” Joel asked her.

“I made myself a big salad about an hour ago,” she claimed. “And I'll probably have a s'more or two when I get back.”

“Beware of Ralph,” Joel said to her, half-kidding.

“Ha ha.” Annie threw her hair up into a high bun. “If I see him, I'll give him an ice cream sandwich. I'm going to check out the ice cream inventory.”

“Take a break,” Joel encouraged. “Do it in the morning.”

She waved a hand at him. “I'll be twenty minutes.”

“Mark,” Jeff shouted through the screen of the porch window. “You guys want hot dogs and burgers?”

“One of each for me,” he called back.

“I'll take a cheeseburger if you're offering,” Vicki said next.

“You hear that boss?” Jeff asked Joel.

“Loud and clear.”

“Where's Teri?” I looked around the open floor plan.

“Upstairs,” Sandra claimed.

“Anyone want to give me a hand bringing some of this stuff out to the grill?” Joel asked.

Jeff began to raise his hand but Sandra nudged his stomach with her elbow.

“Ow,” he said quietly, glancing at her.

“Go,” Sandra whispered to me, as Joel nonchalantly retrieved cheese, lettuce and tomato from the fridge.

I chuckled and cleared my throat. “I'll help,” I volunteered.

“Great, thanks,” Joel said back.

I gazed at Sandra and we shared a smirk. I pulled her in to whisper discreetly. “We need to talk later.”

“What happened?” She whispered back.

“I'll tell you later.”

Joel and I made eye contact across the room and I wandered over to grab two oversized dishes he’d laid out. When he placed a knife on top of them I glanced up at him.

“Might need you to slice a tomato or two while I heat up the grill,” he explained.

“No problem.” I retrieved the lettuce and tomato, scooped up the plates and followed him out the back door onto a little deck. The light by the back door illuminated the grilling area as the atmosphere darkened under the cover of the trees.

I placed the plates down on a small table beside the grill and retrieved a tomato as Joel squatted to turn the gas tank on. My back was to him as I began to slice the red sphere. My body stiffened and I felt a rush of adrenaline power through me when Joel’s hand topped mine on the knife. His body brushed up against mine and I let out a breath without looking back.

Joel’s hand pressed down and I went with the motion, cutting the tomato once, twice, three times.

“You’re very good at that,” he practically purred in my ear. Feeling his breath land against my neck as he spoke made me weak in the knees, and my toes curled beneath my white Nikes.

I swallowed hard, taking completely off guard but also totally on board with Joel’s advances. “Thank you,” I choked out.

“I knew how you felt about me the second I met you,” he spoke quietly. His fingers tucked a few stray strands of hair behind my ear.

There was no use in denying it. “How?” I whispered back.

“A man can tell.”

A man. He certainly was a man. The tumultuous emotions that brewed inside of me were unlike anything I’d ever felt before when it came to sex, romance and dating. My whole body was hot and if there would have been no repercussions I would have uncharacteristically turned and jumped his bones right there. 

The knife left my hand and he turned my body to face his. Joel dove in for a kiss, an extension of what was interrupted in the shed by the sheriff earlier in the day. I had been thinking about it ever since.

Can anyone see us? The concern was a fleeting one and I continued to indulge in him until Joel was the one to pull back with a breath. When he proceeded to peck my lips just after I wasn’t ready for it and simply closed my eyes without reciprocating. His hand landed on the side of my face and my eyes flickered open again. Joel let out a breath through his nose.

“Are you involved with anyone?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No. Are.. you?”

Joel mirrored my response. “No.”

“Good.” I laughed lightly as I said that.

“You, uh.. You want to agree to a summer romance?”

I laughed a little louder and Joel laughed with me. “What are the terms of that?”

“Why don’t we make them right now?”

“Okay.” I felt my body heat up even more and I couldn’t keep a wide grin from my face.

“Don’t pursue anyone else at the camp.” The statement came out sort of as a question, “And I won’t either.”

I nodded. That was more than reasonable. “I’ll agree to that.”

“Unless you’re not into this once we try-”

“I’m into it,” I said right away, making him chuckle. I added, “A man really can tell, I guess because I’m.. very into this.”

“Good.” Joel smirked, “Because I am, too.” He pulled me back to him and our lips met again. I could feel him smiling into the kiss the same way I was.

“Do we have to keep this, like, a secret?” I asked.

“Doesn’t Sandra already know?”

My eyes widened and I swallowed hard. “Well.. not.. Exactly.”

“She’s smart,” Joel said with a smirk, “She knows.”

“Well, she’s suspected.. I didn’t say anything.”

“We’re all adults here,” he reminded me, “I’m just the organizer of this place. You all seem like good workers so there’s no favoritism.” Joel toyed with my hair again, “As long as you’re not embarrassed about it, it doesn’t bother me.”

“Why would I be embarrassed?”

“Because of our age difference.”

I laughed lightly, “No guys in their twenties made me feel what you’ve made me feel in the short time I’ve known you.”

Joel looked pleased by my words and smiled smally, mostly to himself. It almost looked like he was giving himself props in his mind. It made me chuckle again.

“So.” He held a hand out in front of him, “Do we agree to the terms?”

I glanced down and shook his hand. “I agree.”

“And you’re a townie, like me,” Joel added. “So, if things go really well, maybe we can even go apple picking in the fall.”

My heart grew a size. “I’ll be around.”

“Good.” He leaned in and kissed me lips again as he reached for a spatula.

“Good.”

@gissellec1 @cattt777 @mellymbee @armybts20137@bbiophiliaa @littleblackcatinwonderland @mermaidgirl30 @brittmb115 @yellowjacketsbuzzbuzz @beltzboys2015-blog blog @lwfics @pedropascal111 @mellymbee @itscatrodriguez-thepearl

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller x oc #pedro pascal #joel miller x fem reader #joel miller x original character #pedro pascal x f!reader #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal x fem reader #joel miller x f!oc #joel miller x female oc #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro x reader #pedro pascal x oc #joel miller gif #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #joel the last of us #tlou fanfiction #friday the 13th #jason voorhees

[eff4freddie]

Touch | Part Four

Your skills are tested more than ever, and Joel finds a way to thank you for everything you do for Jackson.

Words: 6.2k

Part one | Part two | Part three

Warnings: depictions of childbirth, here there be smut (this chapter is a lot), fingering, praise, Joel is grumpy but horny, Joel has unique ways of showing his appreciation, we continue to stan an apocalyptic grump

Minors DNI

Later, you would be grateful that your makeshift massage table had the good grace to collapse when it was just you on it. You’d been leaning over it, all your weight on one corner trying to set the towels right, when you heard the telltale creak of wood. You yelped as it gave way, landing heavily on your knee and for a moment the pain took your breath away, as you suddenly found yourself crouched amongst the detritus of your usefulness in Jackson. For a long moment you were stunned, your brain trying to catch up, before you felt the tears pricking at the back of your eyes, your jaw aching where your mouth turned down. Your first real thought was that Joel had been right. Your second was that you had no idea how to tally this loss.

You felt helpless, made small and childlike by the shock and the pain, and you wondered if it would mean you’d have to leave Jackson. The town council had been dubious at best but you’d made it in based on Maria’s championing of the cause, and you couldn’t bring yourself now to consider how you would need to survive on your own in the cold, in the dark, realising that the last three months of warmth and safety had made you soft, had dulled your senses. You should never have leant on the table the way you had been, you should never have been so careless. You looked down at your shaking hands.

You saw in them your mother. Your memories of her skin, papery thin across her palms, across her knuckles. How easily she would bruise as her treatment went on, how you went from being able to push down into the sinew to dusting light across the surface, how towards the end all she could tolerate was your fingertips, dragging gentle so as not to tear.

You wiped the tears off your face with your mother’s hands, your own only capable of destruction.

—

The expedition to recover the raider’s stash started the following morning, and you along with most of Jackson went to the gate to see them off. Marla was smiling, riding high on her chestnut horse, her eyes bright and wild looking over the crowd. Your eyes, too, scanned over the faces, your tummy somersaulting with the prospect of seeing Joel. You had no idea if you wanted him to be there, if you were worried that he would speak to you or more worried that he wouldn’t, if he would look through you, keep his eyes empty of any recognition, or if he would stare you down, that same look of naked wanting written clear on his face. You felt your cheeks turn traitorously red at the thought of it, a bolt of something sharp and hot between your thighs. In the time since Maria’s kitchen you had wondered if you had misinterpreted, your mind playing the moment back but this time Joel is disgusted, this time Joel is confused, this time it’s Joel who legs it down the hallway and out into the freezing cold. You found yourself trying to cling to the real memory, trying to hold it safe and fragile in your palm, scared of it and scared of cracking it, brittle little thing that it was.

There were no speeches when Marla and the six departed Jackson. Even Jacob, who you expected to grandstand, was quiet. You spotted Ray on the other side of the street, his eyes never leaving Marla’s back until the gate closes behind her. He looked like he wanted to cry, and you took a step towards him before you saw Simon appear, gripping him by the shoulder and steering him towards the mess hall. You decided not to try and catch up to them, your knee aching from standing so long in the cold.

As you swung around to head home a pair of eyes caught yours, and it took you a moment to recognise that Joel’s daughter was watching you, likely had been quietly regarding you, from her position leant up against a fence post. For a moment you just stared at her, her gaze unwavering and her face unreadable. She looked so small, but so wired, her arms held tight against her body. You recognised it, the perennial fight or flight, and you felt a pang of something sad and hopeful, a flip of the gut. You smiled warmly at her, nodding your head. She hesitated, but nodded back, and disappeared into the dissipating crowd. She may not be Joel’s actual daughter, you thought, but they are so very much the same.

You were halfway home before you heard your name being called, a frantic edge to it that made the hair on your arms stand up. You turned, searching for Tommy and finding him barrelling towards you, stopping only when he can hold onto your arms to steady himself, nearly toppling the both of you in the process.

‘God, what is it?’ you asked, unable to get the fear out of your voice and thinking immediately that something was wrong with Joel, the sinking feeling in your gut dislodging bile snd sending it rushing into your throat.

‘Maria,’ Tommy said, and it’s no better, ‘she’s started…it’s happening and,’ he sucked in another gulp of clean mountain air, coughed for a second like he was choking on it, ‘she’s asked for you,’ he finished.

‘For me?’ You repeated, and now you really heard the panic. Tommy swallowed hard and nodded at you, his eyes big and brown and terrified, and you found yourself moving, heading straight to their house without even considering if this was the sane thing to do. You stopped, suddenly, and Tommy nearly slammed into your back. ‘Wait, did you call on the doctor as well?’ you ask, and Tommy sighed.

‘She doesn’t trust ‘em,’ he said, as if this was in any way a reasonable explanation. ‘She made me promise not to call on him unless it was really needed.’

‘Tommy, she’s having a baby. It’s needed,’ you said, and you watched his face fall. You knew in that moment he would do anything for her, that this was testing him more than anything ever had, and you remembered that this was what family was: throwing yourself under the bus just to properly entertain their nonsense.

‘I’m coming, of course,’ you said, and you saw his shoulders relax. ‘When I say so, you go get the doc. I can be the bad guy,’ you finished. Tommy nodded his head so hard he nearly shook his cowboy hat off, and you were off then, determined to be the sensible one, an Apocalyptic Doula with nothing but a twenty-year-old knowledge of human anatomy and a shattered massage table.

You had only just stepped onto the front porch when you heard the low moan, and you felt your stomach twist. Turning back to look at Tommy you saw the way his mouth was set firm and grim in a line, the way he searched your eyes for some kind of reassurance. You had attended a birth once, in the QZ, and it had happened in the bathtub out of fear that FEDRA would cart the woman off and cut her open rather than waste ether on her, waste the time of properly welcoming a new life into a dead world. That baby had arrived squawking and angry, an entirely appropriate response, and you had stood behind the midwife holding the towels and trying not to look at the remnants of what had brought him here. This was the limit of your qualifications, and looking back at Tommy’s pinched face you realised it would have to be enough.

You forged on, reaching down into your gut and pulling some strength from somewhere around your tailbone. In the entry way your eyes adjusted to the dark.

‘She wanted the curtains drawn, wanted the dark’ Tommy explained behind you, and you thought immediately of an injured cat seeking out the damp privacy under a house to tend to its wounds, to face the horror of its own mortality away from prying eyes.

‘That’s good, it’s calming,’ you said, and you saw how soundly this reassured him, two breaths from full blown panic as he was. ‘Do you have towels?’ you asked, and he scurried off to get them, grateful to have something to do.

In the living room Maria was on her knees, leaning over the arm of the sofa and resting her head in the bend of her arms. For a second you thought she was praying, but you heard her deep breaths in and out through her nose and you realised she had retreated somewhere inside herself, the pain sending her reeling back from her own skin. You got in behind her, hissing as you leant on your bad knee, and pushed your hands into the small of her back, over her hips, supporting her pelvis as it worked to expand enough to let the baby through. She sighed, relaxing into you, so that you held some of her weight in your arms.

‘Thank you,’ she breathed. ‘I knew you could help.’ You felt a twang of pride inside your ribcage, and you hummed your acknowledgment to her.

‘How long?’ you asked, and she sighed.

‘Feels like months,’ she said, turning slightly towards you. You took the opportunity to reposition her, sliding your arm under her belly to round her spine out, and she groaned in relief. ‘Had been feeling something for the last day or so, nothing regular, I thought false labour maybe?’ She stopped speaking for a second and you watched as her belly seized, felt the ripple of muscle under your palm. You went back to rubbing hard circles into her hips as she breathed through it, finding that you matched her, that you sucked the air in as she did, shared it between you, caught yourself in the moment of relief when she slumped back against you. ‘Lost my plug around dinner last night, though, waters this morning.’

You did some rough calculations in your head, considering this and by the way she was still able to speak, you estimated she wasn’t even halfway there. You steeled yourself for hours and hours of this, felt a sliver of panic slice at your windpipe.

‘Why haven’t you called the doctor?’ you asked, and she huffed out a tired, joyless laugh.

‘You’ve seen him,’ she said, and you had - when you had quarantined on arrival, and as soon as you’d seen him you’d wanted to make a Dougie Houser joke, but you had realised he would be even too young to know the reference. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he tried to check your pulse in your elbow.

‘I’ve done this once before,’ she said, and you fought hard against the instinct to ask for more, to mask your surprise. She was quiet for a moment, gently circling her hips in the air. ‘I know I’m asking a lot,’ she said, and you heard the doubt in her voice.

‘Not too much,’ you reassured her, ‘but I reserve the right to call an actual professional if required.’

Maria snorted through her nose. ‘Let me know if you find one,’ she said.

—

Maria laboured into the afternoon, sometimes kneeling, sometimes pacing, sometimes lying on the sofa with a pillow between her knees. You kept her cool, collecting her sweat in a damp towel and handing it off to Tommy to rinse, the stressed soon-to-be-father hovering always in your peripheral view. Occasionally he would ask you how things were progressing, as if you had a magic wand or an invisible ultrasound machine, but Maria eventually got tired of him asking and snapped at him to shut it, that no one had any idea. It wasn’t the reassurance he was looking for.

As the sun set Maria started to get more agitated, finding it hard to get comfortable in any position. Unable to carry her full weight, you had Tommy come over and hold her up while she groaned and swore into his neck. You could see that she was tiring, made worse by the fact that there was no clarity on how much longer it would be, how much longer it should be, that the three of you were holding your breath trying to figure out if danger was lurking around the corner, like it so often was.

She had taken to letting out her breath in long moans, the sound almost mournful, as you and Tommy took turns to sway with her, as you held her hand, as you patted her hair back away from her face. Occasionally you would look into her eyes and see that she was barely there, that the pain had now stolen her away completely, that she had left her body to do its work without her tagging along for the ride. Only occasionally would she speak to refuse medical attention, and then not again for minutes at a time.

It was around this point, when the moaning became constant, when it appeared that there was no Maria in the room, that Tommy swore under his breath, gathered his coat and stomped out the front door. Maria didn’t look up from her position slumped over the back of the couch and you didn’t mention it to her, hoping that Dougie was ready to earn his keep.

Ten minutes later you heard the door open again and two sets of footsteps, calling over your shoulder that you hoped he’d brought the good drugs. You heard a laugh, a huff of a thing that froze you on the spot.

‘If I had those ya reckon I’d be here?’ Joel asked, and you wondered if this would be the thing that finally sent you careening over the edge: opening a pregnant woman’s hips with your hands while the man you had a raging crush on sassed you from the doorway.

‘Tommy?’ you asked him as he appeared behind his big brother, eyes anxiously roaming over Maria.

‘Joel has seen this before,’ he said, not looking at you so not seeing the look of surprise on your face that you quickly wiped from your features, your eyes flitting to Joel to see if he he’d caught you and knowing, in your guts just knowing, that he had. ��I figured he could tell us if it’s going ok.’

You couldn’t help a little ripple of unearned indignation at this, and you informed them that you had it under control. It was difficult for them to hear, though, as this was also the moment Maria chose to bend further at the hips, brace her knees, and bellow from deep within her soul.

Joel regarded this silently for a moment. Tension hung in the air while you all waited for his assessment. ‘Totally normal,’ he said, as if Maria hadn’t just unleashed a screaming banshee from the fifth circle of hell. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’

‘No, stay,’ Tommy said, too quickly, stepping towards Maria and rubbing sweet but ineffectual circles on her shoulder. ‘I mean, you can…if things get…’

‘You can stand at the business end with a catcher’s mitt,’ Maria said, from somewhere under her own elbow, shrugging off Tommy. You grinned, falling just a little bit more in love with her by the minute.

‘Tried a bath?’ Joel asked, and you were about to offer to start drawing it when Maria shook her head.

‘Too narrow,’ she said, sounding breathless but resolute. ‘Need her with me and we wont both fit.’ You beamed at this, unable to stop yourself turning to Joel feeling just a little smug. You’d been at this for hours and he thought he could come in and fix it in five minutes? He cocked a knee and put a hand on his hip, and you could see that in any other situation he would have rolled his eyes. As you looked away you just caught his little grin in your peripheral vision.

He turned to Tommy. ‘I really don’t know what I can do here,’ he said, but Tommy stopped him.

‘Just stay,’ he said, and you realised that he was appealing to his older brother to stick by him, that he was telling Joel that he felt safer with him there. You realised that Joel, as gruff and stoic as he was, was comfort for Tommy. You realised that you agreed.

—

You tried to get Maria to eat some dry bread around dinnertime but she refused it, tired and sweaty and back deep inside herself. Tommy brought out ice chips from the freezer for her to chew on and you avoided looking at them for too long, the memory of the cold across your teeth as you held Joel by the wrist too strong, and too ill-fitting for what lay ahead of you. You studiously avoided Joel’s eyes, only glancing up long enough to see that he, too, was avoiding what Tommy held in his hand.

Around 10 pm Maria started wanting to retreat up to the bedroom, and you followed her up the stairs slowly to make sure her legs wouldn’t give out. It took three contractions to get up there, her face screwed up tight against the bannister, bracing herself against the wall, and when she reached the landing she wailed that she couldn’t do it anymore, that she wasn’t strong enough. At the bottom of the stairs you heard Joel inform Tommy that she was close, that it was time for the doctor. He slipped away into the night to bring him, while Tommy helped hoist Maria onto the mattress. Within moments she was up again, on all fours and howling, as you encouraged her to swing low into her hips, to drop down and let her pelvis open. She told you, rightfully, to fuck off.

‘Do you need to push?’ you asked her, thinking back to the delivery you saw in the bath in the QZ, racking your brains trying to remember how the midwife handled it.

‘I don’t know, I don’t know,’ Maria cried, and you reached out to wrap your hand around your wrist.

‘I think that means no,’ you said, trying to scrounge together some confidence to push into your voice. ‘I reckon you’ll know when you feel it.’ Maria nodded at you, her head bent back to look at you through her armpit, and you gave her what you hoped was a reassuring smile.

‘You can do this,’ you said, and you knew, looking at her on all fours on her mattress, hair wild and matted and eyes now shut tight against the pain, primal and urgent and so incredibly strong, that it was true.

You felt a hand on your arm gently pulling you away, and you stood to see Dougie Howser at the end of the bed. You repositioned yourself so that Maria could see you, sat at the headboard and let her rest her head on your shoulder. You looked over to see Tommy getting down on his knees to lean beside her, Joel in the doorway watching on. His eyes met yours and for a moment the world was silent. An understanding seemed to pass between you, that what you were witnessing was sacred and precious, but that it belonged to the people in front of you, that it was not for either of you to share.

‘Ok,’ Dougie said, and you were surprised his voice didn’t break as he spoke. ‘We’re close but we’re not quite there yet.’ It bothered you that he said ‘we’ as if he was also writhing on the bed howling in agony, but the one functioning synapse you had left advised you now was not the time to point this out.

Maria groaned when she heard this, turning her head to Tommy and panting, as he rested his forehead on hers. You were close enough that you could hear her urgent whisper to him that she couldn’t do it, that it was going to split her open, and the way that he soothed her, how he held the back of her head and whispered words of love and courage, how he knew she was hurting but that she could do it, how he loved her, more than anything, but how much in awe of her he was that she was going to make him a dad. You felt heat in the back of your eyes, swallowing sour across your throat, the intimacy of the moment so breathtaking that you wanted to turn away from it, even as it played out almost entirely in your lap. You looked over Tommy’s back to Joel, saw that he had heard it too, that he had witnessed this moment, saw the way he stood steadfast in the face of such naked love. Saw that he was holding your gaze, letting you borrow some of his strength to carry you through it, to be able to resist the instinct to shy away.

‘Oh!’ Maria suddenly exclaimed, her eyes wide as she snapped her head up to look at you. ‘I have to push!’ You watched as Dougie ducked down behind her again, busied himself underneath her, before returning to the surface and nodding to Tommy that it was time. Your remaining synapse again advised you not to point out that he had just said she wasn’t there yet, then promptly joined all your other brain cells in death.

‘Ok baby,’ Tommy said, and Maria reared up then, swinging her legs down so that her knees were back on the floor, her elbows digging into the mattress. You reached out and held her hand.

‘Can she do it like this?’ Tommy asked and you answered for Dougie, knowing the answer almost innately, not wanting him to try and put her on her back.

‘Let gravity help,’ you said. ‘Let her do it how her instincts tell her to.’

In the end, Joel didn’t need a catcher’s mitt. Maria and Tommy’s baby boy slid into his father’s hands and onto his chest, the younger Miller gasping with awe and love while the very youngest Miller gave his dad a piece of his mind. The shrill cries were somehow the sweetest thing you had heard, somehow a symphony of life and resistance, and you found yourself surging with hope at the sight of him, wiggly and squirming and covered in goo. Joel appeared with the towels and Tommy wrapped him up, while you helped Maria back onto the bed and into a comfortable position. You backed away then, over to the doorframe where Joel had stood vigil for so long, letting the new parents luxuriate in their first moments with their creation. After a few moments Joel came and stood by your side and you almost let yourself reach out, take his hand in yours, so awed were you by the events of the last twelve hours.

—

Joel offered to walk you home and you let him, the adrenaline retreating to leave just plain exhaustion in its wake. You had been wired right up until you pulled your coat on, the warmth of it reminding your tired bones of the need for rest.

‘Oh my god,’ you said, as Joel pulled Maria’s door shut behind you and ushered you down the front steps. He smiled at your tired excitement.

‘Somethin’, right?’ he asked, and you just nodded, didn’t have the words, couldn’t find them even as you jumbled through your brain.

‘She was amazing,’ you replied, your breath fanning out in front of you in the midnight chill.

‘She had a good team,’ he replied, and you grinned back at him.

The walk back to your house was only a few minutes, but with each step the exhaustion and the cold got in under your clothes and held you hard and bony by the knee. You’d managed to ignore the pain of it when Maria needed you, but now the ache had settled in. You started to limp.

‘What’s that about?’ Joel asked you, nodding towards your feet.

‘Oh I hurt my knee, you were right, the massage table did come down.’ You were focussed on your feet in front of you, trying hard to slide on the ice, so you yelped a little in surprise when Joel grabbed your arm snd stopped you.

‘You hurt?’ he asked, and in his eyes you saw genuine worry. He faltered, collecting himself. ‘Was anyone hurt?’ he tried again.

‘No it was just me,’ you said, and you turned away from him to keep walking, hearing his footsteps quicken to catch up with you. Your eyes were stinging from the cold and the weight of the day. ‘I was, am, so grateful to Tommy for finding it for me but the table was huge, I had to climb onto it to get the towels right each time, and it was hard to get into a good position sometimes so I had to kind of lean over to get at someone’s shoulders…’ you pantomimed this in thin air, raising one leg up to demonstrate how you would need to contort yourself, and nearly slipped. Joel grabbed you by the armpit to steady you, grunting as you leant on him. ‘Sorry,’ you said, wondering if the fatigue had made you delirious. ‘Slippery,’ you helpfully clarified, as Joel nodded once at you but didn’t let you go.

You expected him to drop you at your front door, but he followed you onto the porch and down your corridor. It felt strange, having just witnessed the miracle of life, to throw him out straight after, so you didn’t, listening to him shuck off his jacket and hang it by the door. He stopped at the doorway of your treatment room, regarding the mess of splintered wood on the floor.

‘Yeah, I know. I’ll clean it up, it’s just really heavy,’ you said and you weren’t sure if you meant the weight of the wood, exactly. You sighed, heading into the kitchen and then stopping when you remembered what tends to happen when you and Joel sit down at a table, and doubled back to flop down on your sofa. You lifted your knee and started rubbing at it over your jeans. You heard the floorboards creaking under Joel’s feet as he continued to inspect the damage in your treatment room.

‘You want some tea?’ you called our to him after a while. He appeared over your shoulder, grinning when he saw you slumped into the cushions.

‘Reckon if I did I’d have to make it myself,’ he said, and you closed your eyes snd hummed your agreement. Instead, he came and sat down next to you, his weight nearly causing the rusted springs to collapse you into him. You watched his eyes roam your meagre belongings.

‘Wood was rotting through at the top of the legs,’ he said after a while. You rubbed absently at your knee and nodded. ‘Tommy wouldn’t have checked, he ain’t careful. Back on the old job sites I spent half my time checking his work, correctin’ his mistakes before the boss got onto em.’

‘He’s lucky to have you,’ you said, honestly. He looked over at you, and you thought you saw the faintest hint of pink under his patchy beard. You wanted to pull him to you and nip on the skin. You swallowed.

‘That botherin’ ya?’ he asked, and you panicked for a second that he knew what you’d just been imagining, before you realised he meant your knee. You nodded, and he grunted in acknowledgement.

‘Show me what to do,’ he said, and your breath caught in your throat.

‘What?’ you asked, frozen in place next to him. He was avoiding your gaze, but he slipped an arm behind you and pulled you over to the coffee table, so that you sat facing him, squarely between his knees. He put his hands on your shin, and you just managed to hold in a gasp.

‘Show me,’ he said, nodding down to his hands.

Your mouth was bone dry, your throat threatening to collapse in on itself. His hands were so warm, scorching through your jeans. ‘Umm…’ you started, taking a second to catch your breath. He waited patiently for you to continue, his thumb gently rubbing back and forth on the inside of your knee. ‘Well, I landed right on it so you don’t want to really massage the knee cap,’ you started, casting your eyes down to your leg where it felt almost safe. ‘It’s better to try and move some of the fluid, support the tendons around it because they got a bit of a sudden stretch as well.’

He made a sound in his throat to indicate he was listening, moving his hands to brace either side of your knee.

‘It’s really about gripping around the back of the leg while you kind of make little circles with your thumbs,’ you said, demonstrating with your own hands in front of your face. ‘Sometimes I imagine it’s like I’m smearing toast on butter,’ you went on, and he huffed out a quiet laugh.

‘You butter your toast with your thumbs?’ he asked, gently ribbing you again.

‘And what if I do?’ you shot back, pretending to be offended. He smiled, returning to his work.

‘This good?’ he asked, and you hummed. ‘What about here?’ he asked, moving his hands above your knee and holding firm. He let out a shaky breath and you watched his face as he kept his eyes trained on his hands. The heat from them was scorching, and you felt sweat break out on the back of your neck. ‘Can I do anything here?’

You wanted to laugh, a giggle forming in your chest and threatening to pop out into the air between you. You wanted to tell him he could do anything anywhere, but you gripped hard on the edge of the coffee table and steeled yourself.

‘Same thing but just rather than circles try and kind of push down towards the knee.’ His grip was firm, his hands so strong. You held your jaw shut tight, not sure whether you wanted to laugh or scream, the wings brushing so hard against the inside of your ribcage now you wouldn’t have been surprised if the feather started to strip away, if you opened your mouth and coughed them up onto the rug.

‘I gotta tell ya, I thought you were lyin’ about going to school for this,’ he confessed, and your attention snapped back to the man in front of you. ‘You must have been young on outbreak day,’ he said, and you nodded. ‘But I saw how you were with Maria tonight I…I knew it then. I was wrong, and I’m sorry.’

‘It’s ok,’ you said, your voice quiet. ‘I was young, but my mum…when I was 15 she got…and she needed so much medical help, one of the things that they said would help with the chemo was…so I went to school for it on the weekends and…I helped her.’ You were aware you had yet to finish a full sentence, but your poor brain was scrambling to understand what was happening, had been scrambling all day. You saw again your mother and father standing at the kitchen sink peeling potatoes, your mother’s favourite knitted beanie covering her head. Honey I’m going to Jackson. See if I care.

You came back into the room, your mind drifting back to the man in front of you, who was watching you openly now, his hands still on your knee.

‘So beautiful,’ he said, almost to himself. You felt heat bloom across your chest. ‘Doin’ so much for so many people. Will you let me do something for you?’

Your vision blurred, your eyes watery, and you nodded, suddenly shy. He stood and tugged you up into standing, coming forward to support your weight, his lower hand on your back and your nose buried in his shoulder. You felt him grip the button of your jeans, popping it open with one hand.

‘Take these off baby, so I can take care of you,’ he said and your fingers moved of their own accord, pushing the denim off your legs and down to your feet, where he helped you step out of them. He sat you back down on the coffee table, getting onto the floor in front of you, inspecting your now naked knee as he held it in his hands. His bare skin on your bare skin, his pulse against yours.

He clicked his tongue at the sight of the purple and yellow bruise blooming across it. ‘Poor little thing,’ he cooed, bending down to place a feather light kiss on it, his hand gripping the back of it, his fingers digging into the flesh of your inner thigh. You broke out in shivers, temporarily unable to speak, letting out a breathy whimper when he moved his hand up to pull you towards him, the edge of the table digging into your bottom. ‘I know, baby,’ he hummed, his voice gravelly and dipped in sin. Your cunt throbbed in time to your thundering pulse, the heat between your legs unbearable, making you want to squirm, but he held you fast.

‘Can I do anything here?’ he asked, moving his hand up, his other mirroring his actions on your other thigh, his fingers close enough to brush against your panties but he stayed achingly far from your centre. He pulled your thighs apart, making room for himself as he shuffled forward. You shook your head, willing him closer, higher and further, inside. ‘No?’ he asked, pretending not to understand, and you nearly cried out. The ache was unlike anything you had ever experienced, the heat and the pulse of it stopping you from forming any kind of cogent thought.

He moved his hands to bracket your hips, his thumbs rubbing circles on the crest of the bone, and you keened, staring imploringly into his sparkling brown eyes. If he was going to continue to torture you, you were not going to stand for it, the moment you regained your ability to move.

‘I’m sorry, baby,’ he said, but the bastard didn’t mean it. ‘You’re so good to us, so good to this town. I won’t tease ya.’

And he didn’t, then, slipping his hands under your underwear and running his fingers up against your dripping seam. You gasped, rocking your hips into his hand, as he circled your clit with one hand and pushed two strong, thick fingers into your cunt. He watched your face as you screwed your eyes shut, the pleasure almost painful in its entirety, sending sparks into your fingertips and down to the tip of your tongue. You heard the hoarseness of your voice as you cried out into the quiet of your living room, your hands flying to grip Joel’s flannel shirt.

‘Joel!’ you gasped, genuinely surprised by the way he had set your entire nervous system ablaze.

‘Sssh,’ he said, ‘I know baby, I know.’ He manoeuvred his hands inside your underwear, stretching the stitching almost to breaking point, and you didn’t fucking care if he destroyed every piece of clothing you owned, would ever own.

‘Take them off, take them,’ you muttered, pulling at them to get free, suddenly feeling the cotton too tight across your hips. He gripped them, stripped you of them in one swoop, barely missing a beat as he pumped in and out of you.

‘So good to me, so good to us,’ he muttered, his eyes watching the contortions of your face as he systematically took you apart. ‘Slipping that ice into that mouth,’ he added, and you would have been shy about it except that you were currently spread open on yet another table, every breath pushing you closer to toppling over the edge.

You felt your cunt gripping, your weight now bearing down on his hand, as you reached forward and grabbed him by the wrist, pushing him further into you, to graze against the spongey spot you could never reach yourself.

‘Oh, fuck, baby,’ he said, as you moaned high and tight, ‘show me how you like it, show me how to help you.’

‘There, there,’ you whimpered, the weight in your pelvis heavy now, the heat expanding out into your limbs, the speed of it breathtaking, as if all your life you had been waiting for this one man to touch you. ‘Please,’ you added, a gasping benediction to nothing in particular.

When you came, hips circling Joel’s pumping hand, your own grasped in his shirt, head thrown back to the ceiling and eyes shut tight, you forgot for a moment. Forgot to tally your losses, to keep the running sheet in your head of grief and of fury. Forgot the world had ended, taking with it first your family, then your home, and then your self. Forgot for a moment the dying light over the mountains surrounding Jackson, the cold and the bite of winter nipping fast into your bones. For a moment you floated, anchored as you were to the world by Joel’s touch, his breath hot on your neck as he repeated and repeated and repeated your name.

Taglist: let me know if you want me to add you!

@orcasoul

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@littlemisspascal

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#joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #fanfic #joel miller

[skbeaumont]

"I Remember Everything" | Joel x Reader

Part 2 of Play it Again, a new series where each story is a oneshot, but all are shaped around country songs.

Song: I Remember Everything, Zach Bryan ft. Kacey Musgraves Summary: Ten years after outbreak day, you and Joel try to find a way to forget. In the process he finds things to remember, too Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff if you squint, references to sex, alcohol and drugs, sex but not explicit, trauma, grief, just expect emotional damage basically Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: This ended up being both very angsty and quite sweet. Once again it was written with lyrics from the song pulled into the prose, so do listen as you read. If you've got any song recommendations for this series, let me know!

You were begging me to stay 'til the sun rose Strange words come on out Of a grown man's mouth when his mind's broke Pictures and passin' time You only smile like that when you're drinking I wish I didn't, but I do Remember every moment on the nights with you You're drinkin' everything to ease your mind But when the hell are you gonna ease mine?

The bar is crowded when you enter. Heaving with writhing bodies, hot in a way that has your shirt sticking to your back within moments of entering, a hazy, sharp tang in the back of your nose, a mix of moonshine and sweat.

Ten years today since outbreak day, and it seems everyone in the QZ is in here to forget.

Technically, there aren’t supposed to be any bars in the QZ, but as you squeeze between the crowds you spot two women you know to be FEDRA officers. It’s amazing what they’ll turn a blind eye to when it benefits them. One of the women looks pretty far gone already, leaning against the other with a placid, washed out grin on her face. The moonshine here is cheap, strong, and a poor imitation of anything that would have been served in a bar ten years ago.

You order two double whiskeys, watch the skinny youth behind the bar pour it out into a chipped mug, take it from him and hand over a creased, dog-eared ration card. A small price to pay for an evening of forgetting. You down the first double at the bar, then turn and push yourself on tiptoes to find an empty table, or a quiet corner to hole up in where you won’t be disturbed.

Instead, you find your gaze passing over a familiar figure at the back of the room. Joel’s recognisable even from behind – broader than anyone else in the room, the sloping lines of his shoulders pressing against the frayed seams of the denim shirt he’s wearing. It’s been a few months since you last saw him. You’re not sure where he’s been, maybe off on his smuggling runs; the two of you have never really kept a consistent line of conversation, your meetings generally consisting of a quick catch up and then a long, slow evening using each other to try to forget the hell of life in the QZ and your respective pasts. Unhealthy, probably, but it works for a few hours.

Joel turns where he’s stood and the dim lights in the bar illuminate the side of his face, the strong line of his jaw. He’s wearing a lopsided half-smile, leaning against a shelving unit filled with bottles, talking to a woman with dark hair. He’s clearly drunk: he only smiles like that when he’s drunk. It’s an impressive feat, considering how much you know he drinks on any normal day.

You’re still watching him, sipping your own drink, when he turns his head, eyes locking with yours. You don’t look away. The buzz of the whiskey is starting to sink through you, warm and familiar, and Joel’s eyes are just as intoxicating.

It’s always the same. There’s something about him that has you gravitating to him. It’s attraction, certainly, but it’s deeper than that. There’s so much about Joel you don’t know, so many unanswered questions and unexplained mysteries. But you know he’s like you. You know he’s lost people. You know he’s broken, and lonely, and so fucking angry that it scares him sometimes.

Joel watches you down the rest of your whiskey, eyes flicking to your lips as you lick a stray drop. He’s drunk, far drunker than he should be considering he has to be up at the crack of dawn in the morning for sewer duty.

He only got back into the QZ early this morning, spent rest of the day trying as best he could to get some sleep without resorting to rotgut whiskey to ease his mind. A lost cause, of course. He hasn’t slept without some kind of pill or booze in ten years. Eight hours in and he’d given it up as a bad job, downed a few bottles of home-brewed cider and headed to this hot, loud bar, hoping to distract himself from the date and all that its memory brings.

He hadn’t expected you to be here, and something uncomfortably like gladness settles in his chest as he watches you make your way towards him. All day he’s been on edge, wound up so tight he’s felt like something in him is going to snap, but the sight of you has it retreating, loosening his shoulders more than the piss-poor whiskey has.

He wonders for a moment what this thing you have – this relationship that isn’t a relationship, this love story that definitely isn’t a love story, just a way to forget for a while – would be like if the outbreak hadn’t happened. Would he sing you love songs, buy you flowers, take you to the beach and let your sand-covered hair blow into his face on the drive home?

Ten years since outbreak day, and he’s mostly wondering if you’ll help him forget in a way that the booze and pills he’s been knocking back since this afternoon haven’t managed to yet. Two whiskeys in, and you’re wondering if he’ll ease your mind like the liquor’s eased your tight muscles.

It’s this that carries you both out into the alley behind the bar, has him pressing you into the rough brick wall, hands roaming your body like you’re a route he’s trying to memorise so he can sneak back when the curfew falls. His mouth is hot on yours, his breath tinged with booze and counterfeit cigarettes.

It’s easy where it shouldn’t be; easy to let him lead you through the back streets to his apartment, easy to let yourself fall inside, easy to ignore the empty cider bottles that litter the apartment, the pill bags and loose cigarettes.

The sex is unrushed – it could be called romantic, if you were both other people, if it you weren’t both doing it to forget. The memories of ten years ago retreat for a while as he undresses you; the pain eases as he lays you back, slots himself between your legs and presses himself into you.

The movement of it is calming, familiar. Joel’s strong back under your hands, his muscles shifting and tensing as he thrusts into you, the harshness of his breath at your ear. He’s quiet, usually, hardly lets himself make a sound when he’s inside you, and then leaves before you’ve had chance say goodbye. Tonight, though, he doesn’t. When you’ve finished he rolls himself off of you and pulls you to his chest, wraps a strong arm around your waist and lets you rest your head on his shoulder.

“I missed you,” he whispers into your hair, and the words are so strange that you freeze beneath him, twist back so that you can look at him, see the truth of it on his face.

His eyes are dark in the half-light of the apartment, hazy with alcohol and something else, but they’re serious, his eyebrows furrowed, the creases that have started to deepen over the time you’ve known him lining his forehead.

Because the thing is, you make him forget. But when he’s with you he remembers, too. He remembers what happiness can feel like, the way that joy can take root in your chest and spread into something ethereal, something that Joel Miller doesn’t deserve to feel, hasn’t felt since the world ended ten years ago. He remembers every moment on the nights with you.

He wishes he didn't, but he does.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #the last of us fic #joel x you #joel x reader #angst #hurt/comfort

[thewritersaddictions]

If The Walls Could Talk Chapter 1: We Are All Adults Here

Pairing: DBF!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Pov: Reader

Summary: When your parents leave for their annual summer vacation, they ask your long-time neighbor to come by and check on you.

Warnings: Smut, Age Gap (20/50), a little bit of corrosion, sexual tension, Bj's, PinV, Unprotected sex, Smut with no plot, shower/tub smut.

A/n- @ Firefly-graphics for dividers.

WC- 3.2

If The Walls Could Talk Series // The Last Of Us Master List

With another semester of college under my belt, it’s time to come home for the summer. The group chat with my parents tells me that even years later, they still leave the house for a few weeks during the summer for a vacation. They’re going on a cruise this year and will be gone for nearly a month. 

I’ve lived next to a man and his daughter for years—a sweet kid a little younger than me. Hours were spent playing with her when we were both young, and when I started high school, I began babysitting her, and nothing changed. I was always in his house, and the fact that we were constantly bumping into each other had my crush flying through the sky.  

I had a crush that suddenly disappeared when I was up and moved away to college, but every summer, my crush came back with a vengeance—a spiteful vengeance. The older I got, the more I looked at Sarah’s dad in a new and different light. 

Now I’m driving back home to an empty house and a house right next door with my much older crush. Let’s also add that Joel is also my dad’s best friend. He has been his best friend since Joel moved in with his baby daughter almost twenty years ago. The lights on the house are off, and my garage door opens with one button press. 

The first day back from college was always just about laundry and eating a typical meal for the first time since I had been home for the brief spring break before exams. I can see that Joel is home; his truck is in the driveway, and the kitchen light is on. I text my parents while I wait for my food to reheat in the microwave. 

Made it home, eating leftovers. 

Aww I’m glad you are home sweetie. Don’t forget that if you need anything Joel is right across the street. 

And his daughter is at camp this summer so he’ll be there anytime you need him. 

You can’t just volunteer Joel like that. 

I’ll make sure to remember that Mom.  

I swipe out of the chat a little faster than normal. My attention drifts over to the lit-up kitchen window and I think about whatever Joel might be doing… since Sarah is away at summer camp. The beeping of the microwave pulls my attention away, and the room smells of leftovers. That night I watched a random movie marathon in a bed I’ve had since middle school, and fell asleep with a half eaten plate of food on my nightstand. 

A week later theres a knock on the fence to my backyard. My eyes are closed behind my sunglasses. It’s only when the hot rays of sun fade and turn cold do I open my eyes and shift my eyes down the brim of my nose. It’s Joel. Standing there in all his glory. A hawaiian shirt covers his tan skin, and shorts give very little to the imagination.

With another semester of college under my belt, it’s time to come home for the summer. The group chat with my parents tells me that even years later, they still leave the house for a few weeks during the summer for a vacation. They’re going on a cruise this year and will be gone for nearly a month. 

I’ve lived next to a man and his daughter for years—a sweet kid a little younger than me. Hours were spent playing with her when we were both young, and when I started high school, I began babysitting her, and nothing changed. I was always in his house, and the fact that we were constantly bumping into each other had my crush flying through the sky.  

I had a crush that suddenly disappeared when I was up and moved away to college, but every summer, my crush came back with a spiteful vengeance. The older I got, the more I looked at Sarah’s dad in a new and different light. 

Now I’m driving home to an empty house and a house right next door with my much older crush. Let’s also add that Joel is also my dad’s best friend. He has been his best friend since Joel moved in with his baby daughter almost twenty years ago. The lights on the house are off, and my garage door opens with one button press. 

The first day back from college was always just about laundry and eating a typical meal for the first time since I had been home for the brief spring break before exams. I can see that Joel is home; his truck is in the driveway, and the kitchen light is on. I text my parents while I wait for my food to reheat in the microwave. 

I made it home, eating leftovers. 

Aww, I’m glad you’re home, sweetie. Don’t forget that Joel is right across the street if you need anything. 

His daughter is at camp this summer, so he’ll be there anytime you need him. 

You can’t just volunteer Joel like that. 

I’ll make sure to remember that, Mom.  

I swipe out of the chat a little faster than normal. My attention drifts over to the lit-up kitchen window, and I think about whatever Joel might be doing… since Sarah is away at summer camp. The beeping of the microwave pulls my attention away, and the room smells of leftovers. That night, I watched a random movie marathon in a bed I’ve had since middle school and fell asleep with a half-eaten plate of food on my nightstand. 

A week later, a knock was on the fence in my backyard. My eyes are closed behind my sunglasses. It’s only when the hot rays of the sun fade and turn cold that I open my eyes and shift my eyes down the brim of my nose. It’s Joel. Standing there in all his glory. A Hawaiian shirt covers his tan skin, and his shorts give little to the imagination.

“Your dad told me you were home.” He says plainly. I nod and keep my eyes on him. “You haven’t left the house in over a week, so I came to check on you,” Joel says as he shifts from in front to the side of me, sitting on another pool chair. “I haven’t needed to. You know mom always makes way too much food during the summer.” This is the second summer I’ve come back home, and my parents have been out on a cruise or flying to some destination they picked out the minute they got back the previous summer. “I know she’s always trying to pawn it off to the other neighbors,” Joel says, looking at you and then the water. 

There’s a long pause between us; the tension grows, and before it can well into something, I cut Joel right off at the knees. “Well, I’m sure you’ve got other things to do today.” I say, then add, “instead of checking up on me.” There’s a shift in Joel’s face, but he quickly hides it behind a bright smile. “I do have some yard work I’ve gotta get done.” He says, getting up from the pool chair and pushing with the palms of his hands. 

I watch him walk away. Open and close the fence gate. I stare for a long while. Wondering where the hell these random, hot flashes of feeling came from. The bottom of my stomach burns with a passion that I don’t even feel when I go out with guys from my college. I lick my lips, bring my sunglasses back up the ridge of my nose, and close my eyes. By the time I get back inside, the summer day’s heat has disappeared, and my skin is tanned.

Joel seems to know every time I’m outside. He knocks on the gate and lets himself in. This time I’m swimming in the pool. The heat has suffocated me in a way I’m not used to, “Do you go anywhere else?” Joel asks. I lift my head from the pool surface and look at him. This time, he’s wearing just a pair of shorts. Swim trunks, “It’s not like I have many places to go.” I say plainly before dropping my head onto the pool water’s surface. I feel the ripples of the water as Joel moves in. 

He starts at the steps and makes his way over to me. Long swimming strides, and in a matter of seconds, he’s by my side. Once again, I was standing in the sunlight. I peep my eyes open again. “Do I have something on my face?” I ask him. His brown eyes bore holes into me in a way that made me feel like the only other person on earth but also uncomfortable. “I just hadn’t realized how much you’d grown up.” That is all Joel says before he too, lays on his back. I’m stuck wondering what that means. I had always seen Joel for precisely what he was.

“What does that mean?” I finally ask after a little silence. Joel seems to be forming his words, “It just means that are have become a beautiful woman in the passing years.” My courage starts to grow. “Does that mean you’ve been watching me?” I say, looking over at him. I can see him visibly swallow has if I’ve caught him in a tongue twister. “I… You…” He rolls his lips together, I move in the water. I want to see his face. “I’m what Joel?” My bathsuit hugs me tightly due to the water. “You’re just…” “I’m just what Joel?” I ask brushing my hand up from his belly to his chest. His skin lights up with goosebumps in the hot weather. 

“I’m far to old for you.” He says as if he’s trying to stop himself from making a horrible choice. As if saying he’s older then me is going to stop the way my nails are dragging down the center of his body. Inching closer to the tie of his swim trunks. 

The way my name falls from his lips, like he’s barely holding back his wants and needs. “Y/n, please I’m just as old as your father.” I roll my eyes. “Can you not bring him up when all I wanna do is make you feel good.” I mutter softly. Joel lets go of my hands and groans when I grab at his erection from the swim trunks. It’s just a wet piece of fabric between my hand and his cock. 

“Fuck,” Joel mutters out in a low groan. But before the moment goes any further I move my hand and float towards the pool stairs. Joel is up and moving towards me before I even manager to get the towel around my body. “What in the hell was that?” He tries not to shout. “That’s called payback for the past fifteen years of my life, now if you don’t mind I’m gonna go take a bath,” I say before slipping into my flip-flops and walking into the cool air of the house. I leave the sliding glass door open. 

An open invitation to follow me. 

An open invitation to which he follows like a lost puppy dog following its owner. I don’t hear Joel get out of the water immediately as if he’s waiting for my father (his best friend) to come rounding the corner; all I know is that by the time I’ve settled into the hot water of the bathtub with bubbles on the rim of the tub. Joel is marching up the stairs and not even knocking on the bathroom door. 

He just lets himself in. He is standing with a towel wrapped around his waist and water pooling around his feet. “You’re making a mess, ya know,” I say, not even bothering to look up at him. I had set up most of what I would use before my dip in the pool, my eyes gazing over the words in my romance novel. 

“You’re a fuckin’ tease, you know that.” He says with a grunt. I say anything, flipping the page of my book over. The book goes from my hand to the sink, forcing me to look up at him. “You are a wrong choice waiting to happen,” Joel says with my chin in his hand. Holding me to look up at him, “But I’m not inclined to make the right choices right now.” He says before finally leaning down to press his lips into mine. 

The kiss sweeps me off my feet metaphorically. His lips are rough and dry from the summer heat and sun, but the way he uses his mouth is heaven-sent. Passing over my lips with his tongue, his hand still holds my chin securely, giving Joel all the power he needs in this situation. His other drifts down your chest, and into the water. The bubbles surround his hand as his fingers graze over the tops of my breasts. Gentle has they grope and tease my nipple. The kiss is breathtaking, leaving me gasping for air when Joel finally does pull away. 

When he pulls away there’s no giving away the rather large tent that has made it’s way through the soaked swim trunks and is now protruding through the pool towel. He follows my gaze, and looks down, “You want something?” He asks looking down at me, I nod. “Then undress me sweetheart.” The nickname makes my heart skip a beat, and my hands are reaching out for the towel, ripping it off and through it to the floor. His swim trunks go next and in one easy slip down his toned legs he’s free and completely naked in front of me. For being half my age older the man is built, muscles and tan lines that show the amount of work he’s put into his life already. 

“You gonna keep staring at it with your mouth open? Or are you gonna use that pretty little mouth of yours up to some good use?” He says standing there in all his glory. I slip over the edge of the tub, half my body still sits in the water. My knees hitting the edge of the inner tub, nipples taught at the coolness of the surrounding air as I grab a hold of Joel cock. I had dreams about this, dreams of sucking him off, dreams of holding him in my hands, dreams of the way he’d taste, of the way he’d sound. Nothing is better then the real thing though. The weight of his cock on my hand is different then I’ve ever felt. A strong hand combs through my wet pool hair. “Come on darlin’ don’t keep me waiting.” He says gently. 

I nod because there aren’t words to describe the feelings that are currently wrapping their way around my lungs. I lean forward and press my lips to the head of his cock. I look up at Joel through my lashes before sucking just the head of his cock into my mouth. A slight groan falls from his lips, and it eggs me on further. I take each inch of him with a slow pace, giving myself time to let him fill my throat. I’m not even must more librality because before i know it, th hand that was gently combing through my hair is pushing me further down his cock. My nose buried in his nicely trimed pubic hair. I gag around the tight feeling of his cock in the back of my throat, holding his thighs tightly in both my hands. 

Joel hands holds my hair tightly. The once gentle hand is curled around my hair and using a force I’ve only ever seen him use when he’s lifting things from his truck. Using my throat in order to get exactly what he desires. His grunts and groans are the only things I hear, music to my ears. It’s the little tiny whimper of my name that has me knowing that Joel is close. His cock twitches in the back of my throat and my eyes water at the fullness he has me feeling. 

— 

The water sloshes in the tub, as Joel moves us both into the tub. His back pressed against the cold porcelain. The law tub large enough to hold the both us. He doesn’t have me facing him at first. My back pressed against his chest, with his already stiff cock pressed between my wet thighs. Wet due to water, and due to the fucking my throat as just recieved. Joel plams my breasts. Teasing the stiff nipples between his fore fingers and thumbs. Rolling then and pinching at the same, it has me rockingand sqeuzzing his cock between the plusness of my thighs. 

His lips connect to the side of my neck pressing soft and rough kisses into the skin. Leaving some patches with hickies. “Such a pretty women sitting on my lap.” He mutters against my skin, I let my head fall back over his shoulder and his lips find my chin. “Letting me do whatever i want to her, in her parents house.” His reminder that we are in fact in my parents house has me wetter then I’d like him to know, but my thighs sadly betray me. “Oh she’s a kinky little one isn’t she?” He says, “Spread your legs sweetheart.” He commands and follow with ease, watching as water flows over the edge a little. Suds hitting the floor, with my legs wide open one hands drops my breast and falls down the center of my stoamch and then to the center of my pussy. “Oh she loves the idea of my fuckin’ her right here in this bathtub, she loves the idea of my fuckin’ her in her parents house, what they don’t know don’t hurt ‘em.” He says as he slips two fingers in. Moans bounce of the tiled walls of the bathroom, his one finger are larger then my two fingers put together, so I can only image the way he’ll push my walls open to make room for his cock. He drops his other hands decidind it’s better to play with my pussy then my breast. With one hand pumping in and out of my pussy the other one starts with slow circles around my clit. 

“You’re so wet Y/n, hmm how long have you been thinkin’ about me fuckin’ you?” He asks, his breath steady in comparison to mine, I can barely keep up, i roll my lips together before opening my mouth but all that falls out is moans of satisfation. “Answer me darlin’ or I won’t let you cum.” His words get my attention, and for a second I have to think. “Since I was in highschool.” I manage to get out. “Hmm such a dirty fuckin’ slut thinking about her dads best friend fuckin’ her.” his words have me squeezing his fingers in my pussy. “It’s okay baby, I’ve been thinkin’ about doing this since two summers ago.” His confession sends me over the edge. Into a white hot ecstasy.  Joels fingers slide out with ease, and his other rest gives my sensitive clit a rest. Kissing my shoudler and back gentle as I come down from my high. 

When I regain a portion of my brain I don’t give him much time to ask me many questions. I grab his cock and postion myself. Letting the head of his cock notch at my entrance. “Oh fuck sweetheart” Joel groans out his grip on my hips grows tight. “Wait.” He says, but I don’t listen, I’m absolutely consumed by the feeling of his cock around my pussy. I feel full and content with his cock complelty in my pussy. “Damn it Y/n, I said wait.” He shouts, “What? You don’t wanna be deep inside me anymore?” I tease. I can hear Joel gridding his molars together. “No I just wanted to make ure that you were on birth control you brat.” oh I bite my lip and nod my head. “Words darlin’ words.” “Yes, so you can cum as deep as you want Joel.” Theres an undeinable smile on his face, as he sets an unforgiving pace.

Water pools around the clawfoot tub as Joel pushes me forward. My hands gripping the tub as the sound of skin slapping bounces off the walls around us. The blinds opne but the summer streets empty. “Joel anybody would see us!” I moan as he wraps a large around the back of my neck forcing my to look towards the window. “Oh darlin’ I’m kinda hoping gets to see the sort of show you put on. Your ass so high up in the air, tits boucing and making mess around my cock. I bet I can make you cum again just like this.” His pace somehow gets faster and harder. 

“Yeah, I can feel you squeezin’ my cock.” Joel mutters, “Wait I wanna…” My words die in my thaort as his other hand comes down between my legs and plays with my clit. A few circles and a few pinches “Wiat Joel please…” “Hmm what do you want now princess?” He asks through his own grunts of passion. “I wanna cum with you, please Joel cum inside me with me??!” I beg him, “Alright… alright princess, you can cum with me but you better be ready when I am.” He says, “I will be I will be Joel just pelase make me cum daddy.” Something in Joel must break, or maybe it was already broken because the pace he sets now is body breaking. My knuckles are white, and my mouth is just hanging open. “Come on princess squeeze my cock like a good little girl, and then I’ll give it you. Pump you full with my seed.” His words push me over the edge and with that my second orgasm rolls over my shoudlers. Joel pumps a few more times deep inside before he slips out and falls gracefully to the tubs floor. 

We sit in silence for a moment. Joels words are the first thing that hit the sex smelling air. “This by the way sweertheart. Is NOT a one time deal.” he says grabbing my hips and pulling back down into his hold. We sit until the water goes cold, and or skin is wrinkly. “I’ll clean up after we get you somethin’ to eat missy.” He says wrapping the towels around my tired frame. I only nod unwilling to disturbe the peace of the moment.

Completed on: 04/10/24

Posted on: 04/13/24

Joel Miller-

#joel miller #fem reader #fluff #female reader #requests are open #open requests #requests open #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #if the walls could talk #new series #joel miller series #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #can be read as oneshot #writing smut #smut #smut stories #smut prompts #smut rp #smut writing #smut fanfiction #x reader #smut fic #drabble

[sixhours]

Postpartum

A one-shot set in the One Day at a Time universe. This probably won't make sense unless you've read that, but you do you.

Rating: Teen Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel Miller x f!OFC, soft!Joel, no really super soft!Joel, mostly follows canon, angst, hurt/comfort, fluffy baby stuff, babyfic, postpartum depression-ish (not really, but could be triggering), ppd, hormones are wild y'all, breastfeeding is hard, mentions of Sarah and her being black so obviously leaning hard into the tv series and maybe racial themes if you squint? Word count: 1.8k

Notes: Sometimes I just can't get these characters out of my head.

You can also read Postpartum on AO3.

~*~

Joel wakes to the sound of crying, and not the baby’s this time. It’s Charlie, sitting up in bed with Anna at her breast, curled over the child’s nursing form and sobbing.

“Hey, whoa,” he rasps, sitting up and fumbling for the bedside lamp. “S’wrong?”

“She’s not getting enough,” she says through tears. “I don’t know…I just…it’s been three days and she needs to eat and there’s no letdown and I can barely squeeze anything out–”

“Hey, shh, s’okay,” he says. “Midwife said that’s normal, ‘member? Can take a few days for everythin’ to…uh…work.”

“But what if it doesn’t? What if I’m b-broken? What if she’s starving and she can’t tell us?”

He shakes his head, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and sliding over to tuck her under his arm, careful because she’s sore and tender everywhere.

“You’re not broken,” he says. “You’re just…tired. And–”

“If you say I’m hormonal I will hurt you,” she hisses, then her eyes go wide and apologetic in the dim light, lower lip quivering.

“I’m sorry,” she moans. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that–it’s these fucking hormones, isn’t it? Fuck.”

“S’alright, I know–”

“You don’t. You really don’t. Everything hurts and I’m wearing a goddamned diaper –and these fucking cloth pads are worthless, I think I’m leaking on the bed again–”

“S’why we put a towel down. It’ll wash out—”

“...and my vagina is fucking ruined . It’s g-g-grotesque.”

“Midwife said you didn’t even tear,” he says, biting down hard on his cheek to stifle a chuckle. “I’m sure your, uh…your…um y’know…is just fine.”

She doesn’t appear convinced, tears catching on her lashes and streaming down her cheeks.

“My nipples feel like they’re being rubbed with broken glass. She doesn’t even have fucking teeth yet, how can it hurt so much? And she’s not getting enough, I just know it–”

He swallows hard and rubs her back like when she was in labor, firm strokes at the base of her spine.

“I can’t do this,” she whimpers, rocking forward over the baby. “I can’t…I wanted this so bad and now I’m just going to fuck it up.”

Another sob and now the baby starts to fuss quietly. Salty tears drip from the end of Charlie’s nose and land on the shell of Anna’s tiny ear, catching in her hair, dribbling down her forehead.

“Oh, great, now I’m crying on her,” Charlie sniffs. “Take her, Joel, before I drown her, she’s gonna be soaked–”

“You’re not gonna fuck it up,” he murmurs, but he lets Charlie slide the baby into the crook of his free arm. He bounces Anna for a few seconds, watches her tiny hands and fingers flex, then relax. Soon she’s fast asleep, entirely unaware of the drama unfolding around her.

“You’re doin’ just fine,” he says, kissing the damp curl of hair at Charlie’s temple. “S’only been three days.”

“I’m so scared,” she whimpers. “How are we supposed to do this? The world is fucking over , and we’ve gone and–and brought a child into it. What the fuck were we thinking ?”

“We weren’t. We were really fuckin’ drunk,” he quips.

She glares up at him with swollen, red-rimmed eyes. “You’re not helping.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he mumbles, biting back the urge to laugh as he redoubles his backrubbing efforts in a silent apology. “But…you’re doin’ so good. She’s safe. She’s healthy. Look–she’s snorin’.”

Indeed, Anna’s tiny sniffles have deepened into soft baby sighs that puff against Joel’s bare chest. He finds himself unable to look away, drawn into a trance by the subtle rise and fall of her ribs, the rapid pulse of her heart thrumming under her delicate skin.

“She’s perfect, see? You’re doin’ great. Could use a little more sleep is all.”

Charlie whimpers miserably and presses her face to his side. “She can’t sleep if she’s starving, Joel.”

“She’s not gonna starve. We’ll call the midwife in the morning. She said they have—what is it, donors? If you can’t—“

This elicits another wail from Charlie. “You mean if I’m broken .”

Shit .

“No, no, that’s not what I—I meant just to—I’m—fuck,” he grits out, decides he’s better off shutting up. Instead, he rocks his daughter in one arm and holds the mother of his child in the other, waiting out the storm.

“Was it like this with Sarah?” Charlie murmurs after a while, voice laden with exhaustion.

“A little,” he says, hesitating. “Her mom was a lot younger than you an’ she wasn’t…wasn’t ready. She was a kid herself, and I prob’ly wasn’t the best partner. Hell, I was only 22. S’not an excuse, but…y’know. S’what it was.”

He shifts uncomfortably, remembering the long nights, the fighting, the abrupt dissolution of his family’s future before it had even begun.

“Anyway, she uh…she couldn’t handle it. Left when Sarah was a few months old.”

Charlie makes a sound in the back of her throat, then reaches over, gently grasping one of Anna’s impossibly small feet, rubbing at her little toes until the baby spreads them wide and pushes against her fingertips.

“She’s so perfect, I’m worried I’ll…I’ll ruin her, somehow,” she whispers. “But I can’t imagine leaving her.”

He meets her eyes, the next word rolling tender from his lips, tightening his hold around her shoulders to emphasize the point.

“Exactly.”

They stay like this until her breathing slows, until they’re drifting in that liminal space of exhausted new parents. Charlie wipes at her eyes, lets out a drained sigh.

“I wish he could have met her,” she says, her words muffled against Joel’s chest. 

He . Her late husband, one of many ghosts that floats about the edges of their lives, caught in the periphery. Joel feels a twinge of something like envy, but it’s hard to be jealous of a dead man, so he brushes it aside.

“You’ve never told me his name, y’know,” he says instead.

“I didn’t? Oh,” she trails off. “It was Marcus.”

He rumbles an mmm in acknowledgment and rests his chin on the top of her head, marveling at how perfectly she fits there, wondering if he could fill that space for her someday.

“Sometimes I could swear I see him in her,” she continues. “Isn’t that silly?”

“I dunno,” he murmurs, swallowing hard. “Sometimes…I think I see Sarah in her, too.”

She blinks up at him. “Well…at least that makes sense .”

“Not as much as you’d think,” Joel sniffs, tracing a thumb down Anna’s cheek, lost in thought. “Sarah took after her mom…she was half black. Looked nothin’ like me.”

He regards their daughter–pale complexion, silver eyes, straight dark hair. But still, she’s in there; his Sarah, his baby girl. Something about the slope of her nose, the arch of her eyebrows, the curl of her thumb against her bottom lip.

“What was Sarah like?” Charlie murmurs sleepily, nestling further into the crook of his shoulder.

“Stubborn as hell,” he says immediately, the words pouring out before he can lose his courage. “An’ you don’t have to tell me she got that from me. Already know.”

“You? Stubborn?” Charlie says, and he can feel her smiling against him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he smirks. “When Sarah was about three, she threw a fit in the store. Wanted…somethin’ or other, I dunno. A toy, prob’ly. Wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I had to drag her outta there kickin’ and screamin’.

“Except…she doesn’t really look like my kid, y’know? So she had the whole store convinced I was tryin’ to kidnap her, and they got security askin’ me questions, and she doesn’t understand, just keeps…keeps cryin’ and holdin’ on to me–”

He breaks off, surprised at the clarity of the memory; his flailing, sobbing kid in his arms as the security guard grilled him, the creeping shame and anger at being singled out, him and his girl against the world. A lump lodges itself in his throat and he blinks back tears.

“Got us outta there as fast as I could,” he says. “God…haven’t thought about that in forever.”

“That’s…awful.”

He shrugs. “Losin’ Sarah was awful. The rest was just…life.”

“You don’t talk about her,” Charlie whispers.

“S’hard, but…this helps,” he murmurs, stroking Anna’s dark hair, ducking his head to place a gentle kiss to her crown.

“Anyway,” he sighs, a deep, shuddering breath as he brings himself back to the flour-sack weight of the baby girl in his arms, the warm comfort of Charlie’s shoulder against his ribs. 

“All that to say…I get it. Hell, sometimes I catch myself thinkin’ Ellie has my eyes,” he chuckles. “Makes no fuckin’ sense…but maybe it don’t have to.”

Charlie shifts, rests her head against his chest, slurring her words slightly. “Mmmm…she does, though, doesn’t she?”

“Sure, let’s say she does. And this li’l one has…Marcus’ smile or ears or somethin’, maybe. He’s part of you…so he’s part of her, too.”

“Maybe,” she murmurs, yawning. Soon her breathing is slow and even, her body relaxed and pliant against his.

He allows himself the luxury of staring, struck by the way Charlie’s dark lashes fan over her cheeks, the mirror image of Anna’s.

Within minutes, they’re both asleep in his arms.

~*~

“Joel…Joel, wake up. I think–”

Charlie’s voice is soft and calm, no longer frantic, her words nuzzling gently against the dim reaches of his brain. He’s vaguely aware of the weight of the baby being lifted from his chest. He blinks, stretching, neck and shoulders tight where he’s dozed off against the headboard. The light is still on and a soft early morning dawn filters through the bedroom window.

He watches with heavy eyes as Charlie puts the baby to her breast, watches Anna’s little mouth eagerly searching for the nipple, bobbing against it greedily before latching on, drawing a soft hiss from her mother at the initial sting.

The baby makes deep, wet suckling sounds and tiny, satisfied grunts, making him think of a piglet. He smiles groggily and cups her soft little head in the palm of his hand, watching frothy bubbles of milk gather at the corner of her lips as she eats and eats and eats.

“Joel, look…”

Charlie’s trying to show him something but he’s too tired, too sleep-deprived to understand until he feels her hand guiding his, placing it on her swollen breast the way she used to place it on her stomach. The flesh underneath is tight and full and definitely not broken.

He kisses her crown and breathes her in, all lavender and powder and milk, still cradling the baby’s head in his hand as he drifts off to sleep.

#the last of us hbo #fanfic #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfic #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #babyfic #hurt/comfort #angst #postpartum depression #postpartum

[fungal-rot]

Save A Horse, Yadda Yadda…

pairing: Joel Miller x reader

summary: you find yourself getting distracted by the man next to you. his thick fucking thighs always grabbed your attention

warnings: 18+, smut, thigh riding, slight degradation, bit of dirty talk, reader gets called a good girl, oral (f receiving) but literally for a second, use of pet names (honey, baby, sweetheart)- lemme know if i forgot anything

w.c.: 2k

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It was a relatively slow, easy day in Jackson. You had got caught up on house chores, which albeit, there wasn't much to do anyhow. Joel did patrol early in the morning and had the rest the day to wind down, and Ellie was hanging out with Dina.

Flipping through a book, only paying half-attention while you skimmed the pages, you caught yourself stealing glances at Joel who sat beside you on the floral printed couch. He whittled away at a block of wood, working on a new little side project with careful focus. The sound of a sharp blade gliding across the surface of each corner was the only thing that could be heard.

Perhaps that's what was distracting you.

Slow.

Or perhaps it was the way his biceps flexed under that shirt of his, or the way his veins seemed to protrude from the top of his hands and up his forearm with each thought out stroke.

Maybe it was also the way he was sitting with his legs spread, letting the wood shavings and chips fall to the floor that he always promises to 'clean up after.' How his thighs appeared thicker, meatier when he's sat like this in that pair of denim that you innocently, accidentally, shrank just a tad bit when you last did laundry.

Your own thighs clenched together.

Easy.

"Don't hurt yourself now." Joel's low voice brought you out of your stupor with a snap of your head, uttering a small noise of confusion.

"You're thinkin' too hard." Joel clarified, flicking his gaze to you briefly as he swiped another stray chip from his lap.

'Smartass.' You thought before letting out a soft hum in reply and lean back against the couch, closing your book and tossing it onto the coffee table.

There was a beat of silence. Your eyes trailed over Joel's body again, breath hitching with the image of his large, broad frame.

He seemed to have noticed the way you eyed him so hungrily while lost in your thoughts, his gaze following yours to his lap. With a smirk, Joel took the opportunity to spread his legs a bit wider, knee pressing against yours subtly.

You watched and squeeze your thighs together once more.

Gotcha.

"Hey," he murmured before setting his project down on the end table next to him. "What's goin' on in that pretty li'l head'a yours?"

“Nothing,” You answered, the side of your face turning up somewhat with a wince at how quickly you responded.

Joel scoffed and folded his arms over his chest and sat back, head tilting disbelievingly with a cock of his brow, “Yeah? So y’ain’t starin’ at me like some piece’a meat?”

You rubbed at your nose as you felt the all-too-familiar warmth of embarrassment kiss at your face, but you couldn’t deny it. Joel had meat for days under all that clothing. So thick, and big, and-

“Lookit ya! You’re still doin’ it.” Joel gestured a hand towards you, brows drawing together with a shake of his head.

“Am not!”

“Bullshit!”

He turned his head and scratched at his chin, nails scraping the graying facial hair before he looked over at you again. His eyes trailed you up and down, and with a sigh he grabbed at your hips, eliciting a surprised yelp from you, and settled you onto his lap.

“What’re you doing?” You asked, instinctively placing your hands on his shoulders for stability.

“It’s not what I’m doin’,” he muttered and hooked a hand in the bend of your knee, gently making you spread a bit wider, “It’s what you’re doin’.”

Your brows furrowed this time, nose scrunching with confusion. You part your lips to speak, to ask what the hell he’s talking about, but that all quickly went down the drain the moment he had you roll forward.

A soft moan replaced all words instead, your eyes fluttering shut as you ground against him.

“Mhm,” Joel noised, watching you with a stoic mask. “ ‘S’what I thought.”

He kept force-rocking your body, arms flexing and grip tightening.

Back and forth, back and forth.

“Joel,” You panted, eyes screwing shut with a fall of your head.

“Hm? That feel good, baby?” He cooed, voice mockingly sweet. You nod and he watched with a smug look plastered on his face. “Yeah, poor thing jus’ wanted some attention, huh?”

Joel’s cock began to twitch inside his already-too-tight pants- which, by the way, he knew for a fact was your doing- and he unclasped his belt skillfully with one hand, undoing the button and lowered the fly.

“You’re gonna ride my thigh,” He instructed, pulling out his half-hard length from his briefs, “an’ I’ll think about lettin’ ya cum.” His other hand slid down from your hip and to your knee, giving a light squeeze.

Your eyes snapped open. What the fuck does he mean, ‘I’ll think about it’?

“Aht!” He could see the disapproval etched on your features, the way your brain was racking up some counter argument. “Don’t wanna hear it. Y’already lied twice t’me now; so excuse me for not playin’ nice.”

Joel swiped a tongue over his bottom lip before giving his cock a tug, “An’ I think I’m bein’ awfully fuckin’ generous lettin’ you hump my leg like a damn bitch in heat.” His voice was low, almost inaudible as he narrowed his eyes.

With a huff of air, you continue rolling your hips, forward and down. Then you tried moving side-to-side, chasing after a high that wasn’t there. Your body slowed before stilling completely and take in a sharp, frustrated breath.

“I didn’t say stop,” Joel gruffly spoke, eyes piercing into your skull.

“I’m not getting anywhere, Joel,” You complained before letting your head slump into the crook of his neck. What was once a pleasurable feeling, dry-humping his thigh, got uncomfortable fairly quickly with the way the seam from your jeans dug into you.

“Kinda the point, ain’t it?” The man retorted and tilt his head down to take a look at the pitiful frown on your lips. He chewed at the inside of his cheek for a moment, feeling his heart soften. Joel was mean, sure, but he wasn’t evil.

Finally, Joel conceded and tapped at your leg, “Alright, get up.”

He held your hands to spot you as you slid off his lap, back to your feet. Then his large fingers worked to get your pants off, helping you shimmy out of the denim. Joel gazed at your lower figure fondly, a faint smile creeping on his face as he hooked his finger into your panties, swiftly tugging them down. The man let out a low whistle at the sight of your slick-coated folds, then leaned in, tongue seeking out your entrance briefly before swiping back up to your clit. Your breathing hitched, legs twitching at the new pleasure making your stomach burn hot, then he pulled away again, not before leaving a delicate kiss under your navel.

“Come on back, honey,” Joel’s voice eased from his stern tone, now more gentle and loving. He guided you back over his thigh and closed a fist around the head of his dick once more. A shudder ran up your spine as your lips came in contact with the fabric of his pants, your arousal already soaking the denim. Before you could start moving again, he gripped your chin in his free hand, lightly squeezing to make your lips part and directed them over his length. “Spit.”

Complying willingly, you let saliva gather in your mouth and drooled all over the head and top of his fingers.

“Good girl,” Joel praised lowly and began stroking himself. “Go ‘head, sweetheart.”

Once you got the green light, your hips shifted tentatively before falling into an easy rhythm. An airy sigh pushed past your lips in content as your head fell back into place on Joel’s shoulder. A hand came up to hold it in place, fingers carding through your hair.

“That’s it, baby, jus’ like that.” He murmured, fist tightening around his dick as he watched you greedily get yourself off. Moans and grunts and breathy exhales sounded through the room, along with the wet smacking of Joel’s cock gliding through his hand.

“Actin’ like such a needy slut,” Joel commented, lip curling into a snarl before a low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Can’t go two seconds without makin’ a mess’a yourself.” The way Joel went back and forth from degrading to loving then back damn near gave you whiplash.

You mewl into his shirt and clench around air, hips picking up speed while you gripped his bicep. Joel’s thigh was damp with your arousal, the warmth seeping into the fabric and vaguely hitting his skin.

“Or a mess’a me,” He added with a pleased glint in his eyes. You felt his body shake with each passing stroke of his fist. The fact he was getting off to you getting off on him made you shiver with delight. Heat began to build up in your core, stomach fluttering and tightening while goosebumps erupted across your body. You lift your head from his shoulder and crash your lips against his messily; teeth closing, tongues swirling.

You retreat, just enough to speak, “Joel,” the pitch of your voice raised in warning, hips stuttering as your forehead rest against his.

“No,” He denied flatly.

“Joel,” You repeated. Pathetically, Joel thought.

“Gotta learn your lesson somehow,” he countered with an unbothered face, tone lacking sympathy. “If ya wanted some lovin’ y’know ta ask. I’ll take care’a ya.” His own breathing hitched as his thumb swiped over his slit, wiping precum down the underside of his shaft as that close feeling creeped up on him as well.

“But ya didn’t do that, didja? Then you lied-“

“I didn’t wan- fuck- didn’t wanna bother you,” You explained in a hurried slur of your words, throwing your head back while desperately trying to hold off on your orgasm.

Joel’s face softened, but just barely. His tongue clicked, gaze trailing down your neck and to your breasts that subtly bounced with each move of your lower body, then to your pussy gliding back and forth across his denim clad thigh.

Fuck it.

“Okay,” he breathed out with a curt nod and grasped your chin once more, leading you back to face him, “You’re gonna cum- but you’re gonna look at me when ya do, got it?”

You nod against his palm, brows curving inward as your eyelids flutter; the coil on the verge of releasing.

“Repeat it.”

A heavy sigh escaped your lungs, “I look at you wh-when I c- oh, fuck-“ Your eyes widened, cunt clenching as your body convulsed and writhed over top of him.

He smirked proudly when you couldn’t even finish your reply. Your slick spread further over his leg and he relished the feeling. “Good fuckin’ girl, that’s it.”

You continue to ride your high out, eyes never leaving Joel’s. His lips press against yours once more, tongue flicking over your bottom lip before pushing it in. Your hands came up to cradle his face while you swallowed down every single moan and grunt leaving Joel’s throat just as he spilled himself into his fist.

Breaths labored, chests heaving, and legs trembling. You break the kiss and smile down at him before planting a quick peck to the bridge of his nose, making him smile.

“I love you,” Joel whispered, wiping the mess off his fingers onto his pants. Eh, they needed to be cleaned anyways.

“I love you,” You say back. He lies down, pulling you on top as he catches his breath. “I’ll wash your jeans for you next time I do laundry.”

He hums softly, closing his eyes and slips his hand under your shirt, soothingly running his nails up and down your back, “Sounds good,” There was a beat, then, “Jus’ don’t shrink them any further.”

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thank you for reading <3 and thank you for all the love on my previous fics. for the longest time i never posted any of my stories to tumblr because i felt they weren’t “good enough” haha. it’s genuinely keeping me motivated to keep writing and hone my skill, so please feel free to keep reblogging and/or leaving a comment <3

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #joel miller tlou #the last of us hbo #tlou #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #the last of us #joel miller the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel the last of us #tlou hbo #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

[notjustjavierpena]

Swelter

A/N: This happened because the SAG Awards made me horny. I have no other explanation for my behavior, no other defence. Maybe that I was listening to ur dad by VIAL. Obviously also a huge thanks to @strang3lov3 for being the cutest love bug I know, and for putting up with my brainstorming sessions.

Summary: You have a crush on Sarah’s father. It is summer, it is hot, and you just want a cold drink.

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, best friend’s dad, significant age gap (reader is 19-22, Joel is in his mid-40s), SEXUAL TENSION, bee stings, groping, voyeur to some degree, f masturbation, dirty talk, an endless amount of pet names, sexy play with a soda can, praise kink, car sex, daddy kink, fingering, unprotected piv sex, joel’s cock is huge in this, creampie, premature ejaculation, pussy eating, come eating, squirting

Word count: 6.8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54233479

Swelter

A warm Texas breeze blows through the open window of Sarah’s childhood room, making the see-through pink curtains move elegantly from side to side. It hits your back right underneath your halter neck as you lay on Sarah’s bed, caressing your bare skin and making you think of him. You wonder if his hands would have the same effect on you because you find yourself shivering but not from feeling cold. He is somewhere here, and his daughter doesn’t even know that her best friend obsesses about that fact.

Sarah hasn’t changed her room since she was a teenager. She told you this the first time she brought you here, which is almost a year ago today. You were here last summer too, thrilled to be invited to spend a few weeks of your summer with a friend from college and you and her have been inseparable ever since, even if you are so different from each other.

You have your face in a woman’s magazine, propped up on your elbows so you can suck on a popsicle stick whilst turning the pages. There’s a page with the recipe for ‘The Best Fudgy Chocolate Cake Ever!’ next to a page on how to lose weight, and it makes you snort.

“What?” Sarah turns on her chair, pausing the video on her computer.

“What kinda woman are you? You can choose one, but only one. Don’t get greedy now!” You make a scratchy voice but then pop your ice pop in your mouth to hold up the magazine for her to see.

“Seriously? We can’t win,” she groans dramatically, “Chocolate cake always. I just want to be happy, and that looks like a serotonin boost.”

Suddenly, the door opens without any warning. It’s him. Mr. Miller. You quickly remove the popsicle from your mouth, not about to show him how your lips are stretched around the sugary snack. The open door causes a draft to blow the smell of his cologne your way, and it is intoxicating beyond your imagination because you relish in it in secret.

“Dad,” Sarah says with exasperation, “I thought being an adult earned you the privilege of more privacy.”

“It’s gettin’ colder outside now,” he states and ignores her comment, hand resting on the doorknob, “The Adlers need Mercy to be walked, and the pavement’s coolin’ down.”

“I walked him when I was fourteen,” she furrows her brow and you suppress a snicker, “I’m twenty.”

“Just ‘cause you’re grown, don’t mean you can’t do right by ‘em,” he states matter-of-factly.

“Hi, Mr. Miller,” you say from your spot on the bed as Sarah fumes quietly, absentmindedly reaching to pull the short skirt of your dress down. He can probably see the start of your ass from how it has been riding up as you lay down on the sheets.

“Hiya darlin’,” he replies and you swear you can hear a restrained sound in his voice. He turns to Sarah again, “Get your butt off that chair.”

“Fine,” she follows through on her orders but still wants to argue, probably embarrassed at being ordered around by her father in front of her friend. She gestures to you, “And what about my guest?”

“She’s grown too, which means she can probably entertain herself the half hour you’ll be gone,” he dares wink at you, and blood courses through your veins.

“I’ll just get that assignment done while you’re out,” you reassure and try not to seem like your core is shaking.

“See?” Joel looks triumphant.

“You’d make a hell of a lawyer,” she deadpans at her father and walks past him.

When he closes the door and leaves you alone in the bedroom, you can feel your popsicle having melted, its syrupy water running down your fingers. You switch hands and suck the sticky fingers into your mouth. The action makes Mr. Miller’s image flash in your mind and you press your thighs together before getting up and finding your laptop.

You find that it’s near impossible to concentrate on proofreading your assignment in the tiny bedroom after just five minutes of being alone. It’s not that you can’t concentrate in the Summer heat but no matter what you do, your mind keeps circling back to Joel’s voice as he called you darling. It heats you more than the sun ever could, and with every tap on your keyboard, your mouth gets more and more dry.

Eventually, you push yourself to stand from your seat at the desk and make a decision to go fetch something to drink, and it is definitely not with the intention of accidentally bumping into Sarah’s father. Not even when you do not find Joel in the kitchen and decide to bypass it altogether to continue into the garage in hopes of being successful in your search for a drink (obviously).

This infatuation started last year. It took you about ten seconds - from walking into the kitchen and shaking Joel’s hand - to realize that Sarah was cursed with having him as a father. Firstly, he was outrageously handsome; always wearing washed-out t-shirts that clung to his shoulders, always smiling with teeth, sporting salt-and-pepper curls, and sometimes even shocking you by entering the kitchen with working gloves on. However, when he opened his mouth and spoke, a southern drawl dripped from his lips and made your whole body tense up. He was charming, respectful, and laughed at the right moments. Most importantly, he laughed at every damn attempt that you made at being funny, and while it was probably an attempt to be nice and make you feel at home, it spurred you on terribly to win him over at every opportunity.

Despite all that, those opportunities weren’t many. He was also cool enough to know that his daughter didn’t want him hanging around all the time, and so he spent many days either in the garden to mow the lawn in competition with the rest of the fathers down the street, in the garage to fix up some old truck, or with his brother, Tommy, and Tommy’s wife who always had some DIY-project going on.

Thus, the summer became one of tanning sessions in the garden, movies in Sarah’s room, stolen glances at Joel Miller whenever he came inside to quench his thirst after hard labor, and secret longing whenever he had kept away for too long.

One particular day last year, Sarah had failed to mention that her father would be home most of the last days you were in their house, and because he was always out, you were getting more and more comfortable with walking around in your towels post-showers or leaving the door unlocked when changing.

The particular event had happened in the morning when the house had been silent except for the kitchen where Sarah was preparing breakfast, using a large box of pancake mix and the whole fruit section of the local grocery store for topping. You had just showered, standing with your head in your suitcase to search for the last few pieces of clothing you had that were clean when there was a rap on the door and a pull of the handle not even a second later.

“Sarah, I need—“

You whipped around at the sound of a new voice entering the room. Your heart nearly burst out of your chest, feeling as though it was fighting its way out between your ribs as embarrassment began to flood your system. Even so, you stood too frozen to reach for something to cover yourself up.

Joel was in the doorway and dead silent, looking as if struck by lightning. Like earlier today, his hand had been resting on the doorknob and in the painfully short moment that the both of you were processing the situation, you saw that his grip tightened enough to whiten his knuckles.

And then it happened, the thing that had soaked you in forbidden desire and delicious excitement; his gaze had flickered down your body and taken you in for the briefest of seconds. His gaze had traveled from the hard peaks of your nipples to the shape of your hips and the softness of your young cunt.

“Fuck,” you heard him utter as he remembered himself and his self-awareness made you finally grab the top you were going to be wearing that day to cover up your quivering body. He slammed the door shut and spoke through it, “Christ, ’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay, Mr. Miller,” you promised but he was already gone. You immediately locked the door afterward to come so hard with two fingers on your clit that you had to hold onto the chair by the desk.

God, you want him to look at you like that again, want to tell him it is all for him. Now, as wrong as you know it is, you find yourself searching for an excuse to get him to ogle you and the chances are higher if he actually spends time with you.

“Hi, Mr. Miller,” you announce yourself as you enter the garage through the door in the kitchen. Joel has his head inside the hood of his truck, leaning over to inspect something that you wouldn’t understand anything about anyway. He grips the front side of the engine room to push himself to stand, closes the top of the hood of his truck, and turns around to face you.

“Hey kiddo,” he returns with a smile, “How many times do I gotta say to ya that it’s just Joel?”

“Alright, Mr. Miller,” you tease, “—I mean, Just Joel.”

You hear him laugh softly but you don’t dare look at him, afraid that you’ll spontaneously combust. He goes to the utility sink to wash his hands, saying nothing more and making you feel insane for coming apart in the silence.

“I’m just getting something to drink,” you explain when it becomes too much, “Sarah’s room is boiling hot.”

“That’s fine, take what you’d like,” he replies, and there’s a kind teasing in his voice. “But don’t touch the orange sodas. Those are mine.”

The concrete floor of the garage is cold on your bare feet as you pad across the floor where an old bottom-freezer refrigerator stands in the corner, humming in the otherwise quiet room. It has seen better days, and it seems like Sarah has tried to cheer up its weathered appearance by covering it in stickers and ugly magnets.

“Now I have to get one of those,” you giggle and pull the door open, scanning the contents and noticing that the sodas are on the bottom shelf. You hesitate for just a second, and then you choose to bend over instead of crouching down. Behind you, Joel Miller is completely silent.

In the beginning, it hadn’t been your intention to let the crush fester in your brain and turn it into something more but last week, during dinner out on the terrace, you had accidentally sat down on a bee and gotten stung on the back of your thigh. The cry you had let out had nearly made Joel tip over the table to get to you, his chair falling backward as he got up from his seat.

“Fuck! Ow ow ow!” You cried and hobbled around on the grass. The pain was unbearable but the shock only seemed to make it worse.

“Sarah, please get some ice and some antihistamines. There should be a bottle on my nightstand,” Joel ordered quickly and she rushed inside. He walked toward you, grabbing at your shoulders to ground you but his touch only heightened all other sensations. He dug his thumbs into you and your head swam, “Sweetheart, ‘tis just a bee, shh, calm down. I need to remove the stinger. Lemme see ya.”

“It really fucking hurts, Mr. Miller,” you said with a whine as he guided you to one of the loungers that Sarah and you had dragged out from the shed earlier that week.

“I know,” he finally let go of you so you could think just a bit more clearly, “Lemme take a look. Lie down on your front.”

You followed orders with the realization of how much you trusted his judgment, that he would treat you right, moving carefully because the flex of your thigh muscle was making the pain worse. The wooden lounger burned slightly against the front of your thighs, and you pressed your cheek into its slats while screwing your eyes shut.

The wood creaked behind you as he knelt on it with one knee and suddenly, his broad hand was perched on the top of your thigh in an attempt to keep your skin taut. You sucked in a breath but he only mistook it for more pain.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I can see it,” his breath was slightly quicker but you didn’t want to jump to conclusions, “He really got ya right on your inner thigh. Hold on.”

Your eyes shot open when his thumb ran towards the innermost part of the back of your thigh, a sort of panicked arousal spiking from your chest and thighs. He paused for a second then murmured something, a swear word that you tried to take as frustration. There was a beat but then he cleared his throat, “Can you bend your leg a little? I wanna make sure that I get it on the first try.”

“How?” You asked stupidly. The image of how he would be looming over your backside made your heartbeat go down between your legs, “My dress’ll ride up.”

“Just bend the knee a little, pull it towards your chest,” he explained and cleared his throat once more, “On my life, I won’t look.”

So you did as he told you, and sure enough, your dress betrayed you by crawling slowly up to sit around your hip instead of the middle part of your thigh. You looked back at him when he started picking at the stinger with his nails, and you hoped that he would not notice your gawking at his concentrated expression.

A flash of the day he had barged in on you naked flashed in your mind because his eyes were so focused on not staring at you that you nearly whimpered when you saw his eyes flicker to the spot of dampness between your legs for no more than a second.

You had worn white cotton panties that day so they would not be seen through your dress. They were straining against your pussy in this position and all he had to do was reach out, and he’d find your clit poking against the fabric from how excited you were feeling.

He had had the perfect outline of your cunt, and it’s the same now as you bend over to get to the very bottom of the fridge, reaching for a cold drink that just happens to be his favorite. You know that he can see everything, and the worst is that you know he already has. Twice. The mere thought is so dirty that your heart starts pounding in your chest and sends heat through your already hot body, so you hurry to stretch to your full height again.

With a cocky grin that is mostly put on to hide your anxious excitement about what you have just done, you turn to face Joel and walk to stand in front of him and his car. His cologne fills your nostrils again, and the scent seems once again to have a direct line to your cunt because you have never felt more empty. In front of you, Joel’s jaw is clenched but other than that, he seems a lot more calm and composed than you.

That is until you jump onto the hood of the car and scoot back, letting your bare feet dangle out over the edge. You crack open the soda in your hand and take a sip that is a little longer than intended. The satisfying burn of the fizz grounds you in the warm climate, but it is even more heavenly as you tuck the skirt of your dress between your thighs so you can place the cold can there.

Joel shakes his head with a sigh but you know he is playing a game as much as you because he cannot help but crack a smile back at you, “You’re trouble, I knew it the second Sarah brought ya into my house.”

“Oh, whatever will I do?” You ask dramatically and lean back against the windshield.

“Go morally bankrupt?” He raises a brow. If only he knew what is going through your mind. You catch him looking at you in the fashion that you have craved when you sigh deeply and cause your chest to push out.

“Only that?” You take another sip and some of the contents spill down your chin in a thick, sticky trail due to the angle you’re sitting in. You reach up to wipe it away with your index finger and then dare to suck your finger clean with the intention of mimicking the way that you had licked it clean earlier when it had been coated in melted popsicle.

“Give it here,” he says. You lock eyes with him. However, your eyes widen slightly when he nods at the can and takes it from between your thighs. There’s electricity shooting through your nerves the second his fingers touch the fabric of your dress but they intensify to a dizzying degree when he takes a sip of the soda too.

Like a reflex, the sight of him drinking from the can that’s been nestled between your thighs makes your legs fall out to the sides. You’re worse than an obedient dog in your horniness, reacting the same way to the way he moves as it would to the sound of a bell ringing.

Your dress rides up slowly along your thighs, revealing your sweaty skin that feels sticky by now and Joel clears his throat after briefly looking down. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and when you realize the effect it has on the poor man, you grab the hem and pull upwards, “It’s so hot outside today. Don’t think I’ll ever get used to the heat here in Texas.”

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he says and his face has got a pinker tint, pulse visible on the side of his neck. With his free hand, he grabs one of your knees and starts nudging your legs together again. He yanks your skirt down, “I know I’m always teasin’ ya but you can’t be doing this.”

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you say with exasperation and move your legs out again, “It’s just very hot… and it’s not like you haven’t had a peek.”

“Hey now,” he leans forward to place the can of soda on the roof of the truck, “That ain’t a fair accusation.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” you reply, chewing on your bottom lip, “But you’re not denying it.”

“Don’t tryna make me look like the pervert here,” he scolds, taking a step towards you and causing your stomach to do somersaults, “I noticed the way you went real quiet when my hands were on you.”

“What do you mean?” You furrow your brows in confusion, “Your hands were never on m–”

“Did that bee sting really hurt that much?” He clarifies. Oh, you think whilst he smirks with triumph. Something has switched in the air surrounding you, the atmosphere has become more daring, “Yeah, I saw her; your pussy wet f’me.”

It’s true. If you think about it too much, you can still feel your heartbeat in the places where he touched you, and the pulse is rapid and overwhelming. You can’t imagine what it'll be like if he touches you underneath your dress, even if it’s simply on the outside of your panties. The thought has your underwear starting to dampen, the fabric starting to stick to you, and make you painfully aware of the wetness between your legs.

“Did ya touch yourself after?” His eyes have darkened slightly. His pupils are dilating with desire for your answer, and you nod hesitantly, overwhelmed by the need to tell him everything.

“During my shower that you told me to take,” you confess and hear him make a sound low in his throat at the mental image, “I couldn’t stop myself— I wanted you so badly. The thought of you inside me...”

This is a crossroad, you realize, you’ve said your deepest secret of depravity. On one hand, you can bolt out the door or you can make a move to show him what you really came down here for. The latter is risky but Joel is so goddamn decent that you know that if he doesn’t want this - which you doubt is the case at this point - he’ll gently reject you and never mention it again if it means that his daughter will continue having a best friend.

However, as your mind races with scenarios of what could or could not happen in this moment, Joel pulls you back into reality as his hand, cold from gripping the can, rests on your knee again but this time, it doesn’t try to make you decent like before. Instead, it slides up under your skirt in such a slow motion that you find yourself holding your breath.

“Is this what’ll quiet down that mind of yours?” He asks in a low voice, eyes flickering from your face to down between your legs and back again, “If I take a peek more to get it outta our system?”

“What are you doing?” You ask as if you do not know. It’s your turn to be scandalized by bluntness, and you find yourself gripping his arm but not hard enough to signal that you do not want him to continue. You hope that he realizes that this is not you rejecting his advances.

“I ain’t doing nothin’ that you haven’t already silently begged me to do. Perhaps sometimes - and God help me, I will probably regret it - you just needa follow your instincts when a pretty girl like you has been sendin’ me heart eyes all week,” he almost sounds annoyed with you, and to stop yourself from being scolded, your hand loosens its grip on him until you remove it altogether. He smiles, “Good girl.”

“You shouldn’t—“ you feel a rush of blood to your head, adrenaline kicking in as your thoughts circle around the repercussions that this can bring. In all honesty, you had only walked in here to have Joel’s eyes on you but now, you are getting more than you bargained for and it is making you so turned on that your mind is clear and foggy at the same time. Boldly, you sit up on the car’s hood so you can reach for the buckle of Joel’s belt, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“You’re damn right we shouldn’t be doin’ this,” he agrees immediately but doesn’t stop. His warm and rough palms skim further up your thighs until they settle by your hips, his thumbs teasing the elastic band of your panties. He starts to drag them down, the fabric nearly snapping in two when you barely register that you have to lift your ass to help him.

His fingers unintentionally caress your calves as he slides the underwear down to eventually pull them off your ankles and feet. The sensation makes your body wake up even more, a gush of wetness smearing your inner thighs and you know that you have to pull your dress up soon if you don’t want it stained.

In front of you, Joel reads your mind. He shoves the hem of your dress up as far as he can without a word with desperation in his trembling hands, and you move to let him bunch it up around your waist so he has a full view of what waits - and for long has waited - for him.

When your cunt is revealed to him, he groans like he is in pain at the sight of the slick shining on your soft youthful skin. You can see how hard he is in his jeans, cock straining against the zipper at the front of them.

He looks like he wants to touch but hesitates. The first sign of his inner conflict. You remember that he did say just a peek as if there’s an unspoken agreement that he is not to cross the line of touching what he shouldn’t want to have. It would definitely be a nuclear decision if he chooses to do it anyway. It makes you want it even more, and another gush spills from your glistening slit when you clench from excitement.

Joel swears under his breath, something that sounds like fuck it and it sets it in stone; he is going to ruin you for eternity right here on his car. He steps closer until your spread knees bump into his sides, and without saying anything you move to yank his jeans and briefs down, settling them around his hips with a soft gasp as you take in the sight of his fully hard cock. He is huge. So huge that your mouth starts salivating like you’ve already been fucked stupid and your walls try to clamp down on nothing. It’ll hurt. You want it to if it means that you won’t doubt if it ever happened tomorrow.

“Tell me you want this too,” he seeks your reassurance.

“So fucking badly, Mr. Miller— Joel,” you say without any hint of second-guessing in your voice. You scoot further forward on the car and lean back so he has better access, trying your best to be elegant in your messy state, “Please, want you in me.”

“Jeez, honey,” his breath shakes, “Already so eager. I haven’t even felt if she’s ready f’me.”

With one hand gripping your left thigh, he uses two fingers on his right hand to slide through your wet folds and you don’t think you have ever been this turned on for anyone; when he flips his palm upwards and shoves two fingers inside of you, you feel more arousal drip from your cunt and pool in his hand. The longing you have felt since you saw him for the first time finds somewhere to empty all its desire and desperation into, and you whine like you’re in a state of agony.

“Shhh…” he soothes and curls his digits inside of you until you think you might start crying, squelching cunt trying to pull him further into you as he fingers you lazily. Your gaze drops to how his cock twitches whilst standing in the air, “You’re grippin’ me so good, doll, can’t wait to fuck this pussy. Don’t cry like that. Be patient.”

“Please, I’m so—“ your palms are flat on the hood of the car, your mouth hangs open in ecstasy and you stare down at where his ring- and middle finger disappears repeatedly into you, “It’s yours, please.”

“I know it’s mine, don’t gotta say it, I know,” he coos at each of your whimpers, gets you worked up until you are just on the brink of coming, and then he moves quickly. He pulls his fingers out of you, smears his cock with what you’ve soaked his whole palm with, and leans over your gasping frame to nudge at your quivering hole.

When he finally enters you, the both of you gasp in unison. He struggles with it for a moment, rubbing the skin just below your belly button to make you relax because he is so much bigger than you had first anticipated, and such a tight fit that you think he might split you in two.

“Goddamn, you are tight,” he says through gritted teeth, “Feels fuckin’ amazin’.”

“Ah,” you feel like letting yourself turn into a drooling mess already, pulsating around him from the way your body struggles to take him, “Joel, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, honey,” he encourages, showing no signs of pulling out of you to free you from the burn of his girth. He growls low in his throat as you struggle with it, and you know it’s because your walls are clenching around him as you involuntarily move, “Stay still, let her get used to it.”

“It hurts,” you whine, sliding slightly on the metal underneath your ass. He presses his hips forward even further and causes you to whimper but in doing so, he holds you firmly in place by using his strong frame.

“I know but ya just gotta relax,” he goes on. He places one hand flat on the hood of the car and then places the other right on your hip, thumb going inwards to find your clit. It pulses under his finger, trying to find out whether to find the pain delicious or not.

When his thumb starts going in circles on you, your thigh muscles start to twitch and flex from burning desire instead of uncomfortable pain. He presses down a little to stroke your sensitive nub with even more determination and smiles at his success when a moan slips from your mouth, “That’s it, honey. Just enjoy this until you’re creamin’ on me, and then I can fuck her real good.”

Your walls start to flutter a few seconds after the first new round of pleasurable sounds leave you, and the more his finger moves on you, the easier it gets to take him because the pain turns into nothing more than a dull ache in the background of ecstasy. He has you breathing faster and faster, and in return, he starts moving his thumb up and down to make his touches more direct.

God, your clit is hardening underneath his torment. He stares at what he is doing, an occasional grunt leaving him from how you involuntarily squeeze his length, and you know that he can sense it, suddenly smirking to himself as you near your climax. He admires the sight of you, eyes glued to the way the hood of your clit has drawn back, “Babydoll, look at that. Such a pretty pussy, clit peekin’ out and all. Does she wanna come on my cock?”

“Please, yes, oh please,” you nod repeatedly, mouth hanging open in an o-shape and breaths coming out in small puffs. Your climax is within reach, and Joel looks concentrated as he more than willingly hands it over to you whilst buried deep inside of you. The concentration on his face is probably from keeping himself from spilling inside of you too soon, but God, he looks gorgeous as he determinedly strokes your cunt.

“Yes, yes, yesyesyes— oh God, I’m… fuck, I’m coming!” You shake with pleasure as he causes your pussy to spasm, your hands barely able to find out what to do and making you grab at both the metal underneath you with one hand and his wrist with the other. Your eyes are squeezed shut but you do not doubt that he is staring at you in awe as you come so hard that reality fades.

“Good girl,” he rasps, voice unsteady and hand hitting the hood of the car as the feeling becomes overwhelming, “Oh sweetheart, you’re choking my dick so g—“

He swears quietly and then loudly, and suddenly, his cool demeanor crumbles because he is spilling his load inside of you with a pathetic and strained grunt. His hips stutter slightly and warmth spreads slowly inside of you, mixing with your own arousal.

You look down to where the two of you are connected, feeling fucked out despite not even having had the chance to feel him move inside of you. His come has started to spill from you already, dripping obscenely from your cunt.

“Fuck,” you hear Joel say above you. He slips out of you and leaves you gaping and mewling for a second, starting to take a step back. You catch him with your legs before he is too far away, and he reluctantly steps close to you again. He looks embarrassed but gives you a smile to hide it, “Felt too good, honey. This pussy’s makin’ me all sweet on you.”

“I’m that irresistible?” You grin in your post-orgasmic haze, not really giving a crap about the lack of a proper fuck from how much dopamine is coursing through your veins.

Joel takes hold of your thighs as they are wrapped around your body and lifts them off of himself, “You’re makin’ an old bastard like me weak in the knees, so maybe. Hah! Comin’ too soon like a goddamn teenager.”

“I liked it,” you admit without hesitation, still basking in the sweet afterglow, “Made me feel sexy and powerful.”

He scoffs but can’t fight the smile on his face, “Now now, don’t get cocky on me. Crawl back a little, spread ya legs f’me.”

You giggle and do as you are told, presenting yourself to him on the hood of his car. You plant your bare feet on the metal, lay back against the windshield, and smile.

“Now look at that,” he tuts as he admires his work; white ropes of come dripping down from your slit and onto the surface beneath you. He lays both hands flat on the car and leans forward, and before you know it, his mouth is covering your whole cunt and he eats from you like he’s paid to do it.

“Jesus,” you groan, throwing your head back and grabbing onto the roof of the car with one hand whilst the other finds Joel’s hair. You tug and he moans against you, sending vibrations through your whole lower body and beginning the first stirrings of another high. You don’t think that you can take it, squirming just like you had done moments earlier.

Joel makes a sound of disapproval. He scoops his arms under your thighs until he can lay his hands on top of them, holding you tightly against his mouth and causing you to cry towards the ceiling when he makes your second orgasm approach so quickly that nothing in your brain makes sense except what he is doing between your legs.

The hand on the roof of his car goes to his head too. You slide your fingers on both hands through his hair until they lay at the back of his neck, and then you yank once more at the curls there. His tongue works at your clit, swiping back and forth over it until you think that you might see God.

However, it doesn’t stay there. Instead, it is replaced by his nose so that he can eat his own spill straight from you by dipping his tongue hungrily inside of you.

“Joel— holy fuck, you’re incredible,” you close your eyes to concentrate on your pleasure. Who knew that the man could fuck with his tongue? He is warm and wet inside of you, slurping pornographically until you are clean of any remains of his come.

You are just about to finish a second time when he halts whatever he is doing. He pulls back only a few inches so you can still feel his uneven breaths against your cunt.

“No! Please,” your eyes fly open, you cry desperately, and throw your head forward dramatically. You want to thrash but he still has your legs locked in his arms, so you decide to pull out the big guns and hope for the best, “Please, Daddy! Pleasepleaseplea—“

“What the fuck did you just say t’me?” He looks up at you but you are too busy screwing your eyes shut in agony whilst whining for more. He growls and releases one of your legs, “I was already gonna make you a happy young lady but now, I’m gonna make you come so hard your little brain goes dumb. See how it feels. Impatient girl.”

His hand goes between your legs. He turns his palm upwards and then shoves two thick fingers inside of your pussy like earlier, curling them slightly and then pumping them so quickly that blood starts speeding through your system a second after and your heart rate goes so fast that you know that you are just about to come.

“Joel, oh my— fuck!” You whimper.

“Wrong word,” he replies.

You correct yourself immediately because there’s no way he is stopping again to chastise you once more, “Daddy, oh I— mhmm, I’m gonna come for you. Don’t stop, please, please Daddy, pleasepleaseplea—!”

He responds just how you had liked: He closes his mouth around your swollen clit and sucks hard, finally severing all connection to your brain and you come so hard that you actually squeal. Joel groans against you, feeling you squeeze the digits he has buried deep inside you. He draws back his fingers, pressing upwards the whole way.

Clear liquid squirts from you the second he pulls them out. The gushes that follow are so intense that the leg he isn’t holding anymore shakes so violently that the metal rattles under you, the car staining with your come. He repeats the move again and again, over and over, and watches the steady trickle down the hood and onto the concrete floor that turns a dark gray.

Euphoria courses through your being as you come in a way that you have never felt before. Your limbs tingle as warmth spreads out from beneath your belly button, your cunt pulses with eager pleasure, and you sob through the waves that crash over you without giving you time to recover from the last. The whole room feels brighter and its colors more vibrant.

“Shh, baby, let it happen, feels so good, don’t it? That’s it,” Joel coos at you the whole way through, guides you through it when you barely know how to use your words. He has straightened to his full height again but you don’t know when, and he has slowed his fingers down to tease out a few aftershocks. You whimper feebly at each one, and when Joel seems satisfied with what he has drawn out of you, he covers your whole mound with his palm to soothe the feeling of overstimulation that settles.

“Soundproof,” he mutters, once again reading your mind when you come to your senses again and start thinking about your noise levels with furrowed brows and eyes flitting from him to the garage door. Your heartbeat has started to slow again, and the relief of knowing no one has been able to hear you makes you slump against the windshield and breathe deeply.

The remnants of your orgasm have made you smile, your body slipping into a deep state of satisfaction when the anxieties have been dispelled. Joel moves his hand up your lower body until it settles between your breasts, still covered by your dress. He caresses your heaving chest, looking at you boyishly for the first time, “You good? Didn’t cause any brain damage, did I?”

“You think this truck has ever seen action like that before?” You joke breathlessly.

“Probably ain’t the first time I disappointed a gorgeous lady in its presence,” he says with an apologetic smile, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Disappointed? You’re insane,” you stretch your arms above your head to get some of the last bits of euphoria out of your body, trying to ignore the way he has just called you a gorgeous lady. He probably means nothing by it. As your stretch peaks, you moan gently, “I came two times. Hard. I’m not complaining.”

“Just saying that I woulda liked to do it… properly, I guess,” he talks as he stuffs himself back into his underwear and pants, most likely trying to feel the least uncomfortable about mentioning his overexcitement. Automatically, he steps back when you jump off the car to adjust your dress.

“This doesn’t have to be a one-time thing,” you try to act casual as you say it but there’s no way you are accepting the best sex of your life to be a thing you will never have again, reducing it to a movie merely playing behind your eyelids as a cruel reminder of what is unattainable.

“And when would we have time for that?” He asks, zipping up his jeans. He wipes his hands on them, “We can’t, honey.”

“We just did,” you mumble, picking up your underwear from the floor. You turn the panties in your hands, just about to bend down to put them on before deciding against it. Boldly, you stand in front of him and stuff your sticky underwear into his front pocket; closest to his crotch. There are extra pairs in your bag in Sarah’s room. He can have these.

He looks down briefly and then finds your eyes. His jaw clenches as he weighs his words, “When?”

“Aren’t you driving me to the airport on Sunday?” You smile and kiss his cheek, and then you leave him, your soda in hand and a mess on the floor.

.

.

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[shellshocklove]

wet nights | joel miller

pairing/AU: bfd!joel miller x female!reader – no outbreak

summary: getting beer spilled down your dress at your best friend sarah’s birthday party might not have been so bad– not when her dad can help you clean up.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! reader is 25 and joel is 47, reader is described as wearing a dress, swearing, use of pet names, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, exhibitionism, praise with a dash of degradation kink, one small touch of your clit, soft dom!joel, use of sir, cum play, no use of y/n

a/n: mom said it was my turn to write bfd!joel lol. basically this is just me wanting to write joel getting his cock and balls sucked bc it's what he deserves 😌 as always thank you to @dustydaddyyy for reading through this for me! and happy reading <3

main masterlist / ao3

Nodding your head to the beat of the music you gulped down a cooling sip of beer. The bar was stuffed to the brim tonight for Sarah’s birthday. Every chair and booth occupied, large groups huddled together against the walls, and a growing crowd of brave, seemingly deep enough down their drinks, dancers moved across the makeshift dance floor. Leaning against the bar right at the end, you were shielded from the continuous line of people looking for a drink to sate their thirst on this hot summer night.

You’d missed Sarah since graduation. She’d moved back to Austin to be closer to her father – a man you had still to meet even after all these years of knowing Sarah. You’d met in undergrad where you’d had a couple of overlapping classes the first year. She’d been one of those people where you’d just clicked, like a hand in a glove, you two just fit together.

Now you had moved to Austin. It wasn’t exactly planned, but you’d applied to a postgraduate program at the University of Texas, not necessarily thinking you’d get in– but then you had. Sarah had been ecstatic when you’d told her. You hadn’t seen her in person in over a year, but you couldn’t wait to live in the same city as your best friend again.

But first, her 25th birthday party.

Tonight would be your first night out as a new Austinite. Sarah had invited all her closest friends and family to her favorite bar to celebrate. You’d dreaded it a little, you weren’t gonna lie. That nagging anxiety had bubbled under your skin all week at the prospect of being the only one at the party who didn’t know anyone already. Sarah had told you not to worry though when you’d voiced your concern to her a few days ago – she’d introduce you to everyone – nothing to worry about, and she’d been right.

All Sarah’s friends had been extremely friendly and nice, and you’d been taken under their wing immediately. Quickly, your anxiety had melted away, condensing into nothing as you’d started to have a good time.

It was deep into the summer, and Austin had shown itself from its hotter side the last few days. Inside the bar everything ran hot, even with the AC on blast and with the amount of people who’d made their way inside in the last hour, looking for a good time on a Saturday night, it never stood a chance.

Trying to cool off you’d excused yourself from your new group of friends to order yourself a cold beer. One of the ACs blew cold air directly towards the bar, keeping the frantic bartenders cool as they pushed out order after order of drinks. You watched them from where you stood perfectly in the wind of the AC, glass raised to your lips when you felt a hard bump against your shoulder.

“Fuck,” you cursed as your full glass of beer spilled all down your front, staining your white summer dress.

“Shit– sorry, sweetheart.” You didn’t have time to react as your beer was lifted out of your wet hand and placed on the rough wood of the bar.

Looking up from your ruined dress you took in your beer thief as he reached across the bar for some napkins. He was older, forties maybe, maybe older if you were to take the sprinkle of salt and pepper in his hair into consideration, but he was gorgeous. A strong jaw and sculptured nose. Clad in a t-shirt and a dark pair of jeans, you thought he looked casual– not like he belonged to the rest of the birthday party. The material of his t-shirt strained against his bicep as he leaned back from over the bar – a stack of napkins now in his hand. Standing to his full height before you, you noticed just how broad he was, and it made a drop of desire pool in your core. 

The man’s previous frantic movements came to a halt as he took you in for the first time; his dark brown eyes rolling down your body and leaving a trail of heat. His fist full of napkins stalled when his eyes landed on your dress, quickly diverting them with a loud clearing of his throat.

“Um– here,” he said, voice strained as he handed you the napkins.

Pulling your eyebrows together in a frown, you looked down at yourself again. The fabric was completely soaked through, and you felt a prickling heat tickle your cheeks as you realized you now looked like a walking ad for a wet t-shirt competition.

“Oh shit,” you muttered, taking the napkins from the man as you tried your best to cover yourself.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart– bumpin’ into ya like that.”

Pressing the napkins to your dress you shook your head at him, “It’s fine– eh,” you looked up from your body.

“Joel,” he introduced himself.

“It’s fine, Joel. It was an accident. I’ll just go to the restroom and try to get the stain out,” you said with a grimace, and reached for more napkins.

“Let me help ya,” he offered as he placed a friendly hand on your elbow.

As Joel guided you through the crowd towards the toilets, hand hovering at a polite distance behind your back, he continued to apologize.

“I feel terrible– let me at least pay for it if it ends up needin’ replacin’.”

Inside the bar’s toilets, you jumped up on the stone countertop lining the wall, turning the closest sink on.

“It’s okay,” you repeated as you busied yourself with trying to clean yourself up, “This isn’t the first time I’ve gotten beer spilled all over me,” you said with a teasing laugh, trying to lighten the mood a little.

Standing beside you with his hip leaning against the stone and a knee popped, Joel huffed out a strained laugh, a laugh somewhere between embarrassment and relief.

“Yeah?” He questioned, eyes falling to your working hands.

“Tell you this much– I’ve had plenty of wet nights.”

A sound escaped Joel at your words, one he quickly tried to cover up with a cough, and you realize your innuendo a second too late. When you looked up from your hands, eyes wide, you noticed that Joel’s cheeks had flushed slightly, like he was embarrassed that he’d even caught onto the innuendo you hadn’t meant to make. 

“Oh! No, not like that–” you rushed, tone slightly mortified as your eyes met his, trying very hard not to stutter through the rest of your sentence, “I–uh... I only meant that I uh–... I‘ve had plenty of situations in which I’ve gotten wet–” 

At this sentence, Joel raised his eyebrows in a look that seemed half-surprised, half-amused, and your stomach dropped even further into your ass in embarrassment. 

“–with water!” you clarified quickly, before you scrunched up your nose in embarrassment, closing your eyes as you huffed out a laughing sigh, “There’s no way I’m getting out of this gracefully, is there?” 

You heard Joel’s chuckle to your side, deep and syrupy, like the stuff you’d liked to pour over your pancakes in buckets when you were a kid.

“You’d have gotten away with it if you hadn’t started explainin’, I think,” Joel told you, his tone joking, and you chuckled bashfully, nodding before you looked up at him. 

There was a moment in which you exchanged a look, before you felt the smile break over your face and you dissolved into embarrassed laughter, shaking your head as Joel laughed, too. 

“Off to a great start,” you muttered in between chuckles, “First week in Austin and I’m already making passes at handsome strangers in bar bathrooms.” 

“I never said I was complainin’,” Joel said jokingly, and you let out a chuckle, “First week in Austin, hm?” 

“Yeah,” you said with a nod, “Here for a postgrad.” 

“Smart and beautiful,” he mused, “Reckon I should spill beers more often if this is what I get in return.” 

Delicate wings fluttered in your tummy at his words as a feeling of excitement filled your chest. Looking up at him with a raised teasing eyebrow you said, “Not sure spilling beer on someone is the tried and tested formula.”  

“Well, that depends, really,” Joel answered back in a teasingly contemplating voice, “‘s it workin’ on you?” 

Your stomach dropped slightly at his words, and when your eyes moved to meet his, he was looking at you with a look that made your insides burn. 

“Maybe,” you told him with a teasing smile pulling at the corners of your mouth. 

You were never usually this bold, but there was something in the way he was looking at you and the syrup-y tone of his voice. You could tell he knew what he was doing, knew exactly what to say, and you wanted more. Biting down on your bottom lip coquettishly, you leaned backwards on your arms, giving Joel a full view of the soaked front of your dress, and more specifically, everything he could see underneath. 

“And what works on you, Joel?” 

You watched with some satisfaction as Joel's eyes ran over the length of your chest, before he quickly redirected them to your eyes.

“You’re making it very hard to be a gentleman here, sweetheart,” he almost whispered, his eyes as dark as the Austin summer night sky. You gave a noncommitted shrug as a teasing smile tugged at your lips. Then, you leaned forward so that you were closer to him, feet dangling slightly.

“I never asked you to be,” you told him, your voice low but not quite a whisper as you looked up at him through your lashes. 

Behind your rib cage your heart quickened with excitement as Joel’s darkening gaze bored into yours, and you knew you him right where you wanted him. His eyes danced over your face for a moment, before they flickered down to your lips. It almost made you stop breathing for a second, the tension in the air between you so thick you could cut it with a knife. There was just something about this man, something about Joel – and in this moment you wanted him more than you’d ever wanted anyone before. 

Maybe it should’ve scared you, the speed at which you’d fallen under his spell (or was it the other way around?), but right now, with Joel’s darkening eyes staring into yours, you couldn't bring yourself to feel any fear. You could only look at him, could only feel his breath fanning over your lips and the intensity of his gaze on your face.

“You’re trouble, aren’t ya?” Joel’s voice was low, not quite a whisper, but full of deep bass. 

You felt the expanse of his hand fall on your bare knee, rough and calloused over where your sundress had ridden up. 

“Nothing you can’t handle.” You batted your eyelashes semi-innocently, spreading your thighs slightly, which made Joel’s mouth twitch in amusement. 

“’s that so, darlin’?” He asked, taking his place between your legs, your face now only inches from his as he looked down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Mhm,” you nodded slightly, your hand falling over his to guide it slowly up your thigh, “Don’t you wanna find out?”

As Joel’s index finger made contact with the side seam of your underwear, he closed the space between you and pressed his lips against yours. The hairs of his mustache tickled your cupid’s bow as he dove deeper, lips rolling over yours. You sat up slightly when his other hand wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to him, your core rubbing up against his growing bulge. You whimpered against his lips at the contact, and Joel inhaled it, consuming every breathy moan and whimper.

His hand slid slowly downwards to your ass where he gave it a nice squeeze, pulling you even closer when your legs came up to wrap around his waist. He licked at your lower lip hungrily, and you opened yourself up to him to allow him to deepen the kiss. It was hot, and suffocating, and all-consuming, all at the same time. He was a great kisser, probably the best you’d kissed. His lips moved expertly over yours, soft and firm at the same time as he guided you through it.

The grip on your ass tightened again and soon you were half-way to hanging off the counter as he rocked his front steadily against your core, where your arousal had started to pool. The kisses turned needier then, shorter and desperate between quiet whines. You could feel the shape of him against you, hard and thick, and big. A wave of tickling arousal washed over you as you imagined yourself on your knees before him, the weight and taste of him on your tongue. He was so fucking hot, and you wanted him so fucking badly.

“Can I suck your cock?” you panted through frantic kisses.

Joel pulled back slightly, head tipped back to find your eyes. 

“You wanna suck my cock?” he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice. You only nodded, head tipping slowly with the bite of your lip.

Joel tsk-ed, “Dirty girl,” he said and rocked his hard bulge against your core, which earned him a moan. It made a wicked grin spread across his face, like he’d just proved a point.

His hands left your body as he slowly stepped backwards – that same cocky grin adorning his features as he nodded towards one of the stalls. Jumping off the countertop, you almost tripped over your feet to follow him inside.

“Relax, baby– ain’t no need to get on your knees until after we’re inside,” he teased, holding the door open for you, bicep bulging against the fabric of his t-shirt. Fuck, he looked so hot.

“Ha-ha,” you fake-laughed at him with a teasing roll of your eyes as you stepped past him and into the bathroom stall. When the door clicked behind him, followed by the unmistakable sound of the lock turning, you felt a pair of strong hands land on your hips as he pressed his body against your back.

“I’m only teasin’,” he reassured you in your ear, his breath fanning over the shell and sending a tingle down your spine. Turning around in his hold, your own teasing smile spread across your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Yeah?” you queried with the raise of an eyebrow, “Well two can play that game, sir” you teased as you slowly sunk to your knees, missing the way Joel reacted to the title you’d assigned him.

From above Joel watched you, body relaxed and composed like he wasn’t about to get his dick sucked, but the lust in his eyes gave him away. Your teeth caught on your bottom lip as you fumbled with his belt, the sound of metal clinking bouncing off the tiles as you focused on popping the button on his jeans and pulling the zipper down. You couldn’t take your eyes off the shape of him hidden behind the denim, and it made your mouth water, your thighs squeezing together. You were mesmerized as you let your pointer finger run over the covered length of him, the cotton fabric of his boxer briefs soft under your fingertips.

For a moment, you couldn’t believe what you were about to do – suck a man you’d just met less than an hour ago off in the bathroom stall of some dingy bar? But then again, something excited you about it. 

Maybe it was Joel? Or maybe it was the thrill of it all– of maybe getting caught?

“Go on, darlin’, it’s okay– be a good girl n’ take it out f’me,” Joel ordered from above, his voice dropping an octave. You looked up at him, caught the way he studied you, gauging your every move and reaction.

Then something shifted in his eyes, a flash of insecurity making its presence known, “Or don’t– we can stop f’you want– if you ain’t feelin’ it anymore.”

You shook your head before he’d even finished his sentence. God, no! You sure as hell didn’t want to stop.

“I wanna keep going, Joel,” you smiled, your fingers hooking into the elastic band of his boxer briefs.

A genuine smile bloomed across his face then, his rough hand coming down to cup your chin, “That’s good, baby,” he said, swiping his thumb slowly over your skin, before he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Know you’ll be good f’me, won’t you?” he whispered against your lips, drawing a breathy whine from you at the praise.

“Yes,” you sighed, almost breathless as he kissed you again quickly before he murmured against your lips, “Yes, you will, darlin’– you’re gonna choke on my cock ‘n thank me for it, won’t ya?”

He was driving you mad with all these questions. In just a few minutes, this man had turned you inside out, pushed every button to turn you on– you were practically swimming in your panties, your mind clouded in hazy arousal. 

You didn’t know what to do, and not thinking clearly, you chased his lips.

“Nuh-uh,” Joel chuckled, pulling away slightly, “lemme hear you say it, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you sighed again, “thank you for giving me your cock.”

“Thank you for giving me your cock, what?”

This manwas relentless.

“Thank you for giving me your cock, sir?” you tried, teeth nibbling on your bottom lip.

Pleased, a satisfied grin pulled at Joel’s lips. He rewarded you with a quick kiss before he pulled away, standing to his full height again.

You couldn’t wait any longer, you needed to touch him. Hooking your fingers into the elastic band of his boxer briefs again, you slowly pulled them down, revealing inch by inch of the base of his fat cock.

He was big, and the sight made your mouth water, but what excited you the most was the weight of his heavy balls.

“Fuck,” you whispered, eyes wide with fascination.

His hand found the back of your neck in a grounding hold as he guided you closer, your lips bumping against his tip. “Give it a kiss, baby… just like that,” he praised as you did exactly what he wanted, placing a kiss to his cock the same way you’d kissed his lips.

Over you, you could hear Joel release a content breathy chuckle, “That’s so good, baby, such a good girl.”

Egged on by his praises, you shifted a little on your knees, steadying your hands on his thighs as you pooled a blob of spit in your mouth that you let drip down the head. Joel watched you intensely as you used your dominant hand to slowly work the spit over his length, earning yourself a strained grunt. He grew even harder in your hand as you familiarized yourself with the weight and size of him in your hand. 

“Wanna taste it, sir,” you said and placed another soft kiss to the head, swiping your tongue over the slit to taste the precum that had started to pearl.

“Yeah?” he taunted, almost degrading, “You wanna taste my cock that badly?”

“Y-yes,” you whined, looking up at him through your lashes.

Joel watched you for a beat before he tapped at the hand wrapped around him, shooing it away as he fisted himself. “Open wide then, honey, ‘f you want it that bad,” he said, slapping his cock against the side of your face.

Your mouth dropped open in an instance as Joel stuffed his cock inside your mouth slowly. You opened up as wide as you possibly could, relaxing your jaw to accommodate the size of him in your mouth. It was a wide stretch, and the tip touched the back of your throat far too soon, making you gag around the head.

He pulled back to let you breathe for a moment, before he sunk back down your throat again, a large and grounding hand resting at the back of your head. The second time you were more prepared to take him, holding him in your throat for a few moments longer before you started to gag. Over you, Joel let out a strained grunt; the noise sending a bolt of arousal straight to your core.

After that, Joel let you take the lead.

You started out slow, taking the head into your mouth as you let your spit-covered fingers glide over his shaft in an experimental tug. Under your fist, a slick sound echoed off the tiles with every jerk of his cock. You made sure his cock was thoroughly coated in your spit as you set a steady rhythm. You let your tongue glide over the underside of his tip, his hips bucking when you dipped your tongue into the slit.

It was sloppy, and wet, and the noises coming from your throat were entirely too obscene as you started bobbing your head, taking him down your throat.

“That’s a good girl,” Joel praised you, helping guide his cock down your throat with the hand resting at the back of your head. “You love suckin’ cock, don’t you? Love havin’ a big cock fill up that tight throat?”

Suddenly, you heard the muted music coming from the bar grow louder before dying again at the sound of the door slamming shut. You stilled your movements in panic as you heard someone slip into the stall to your right. Your eyes met Joel as you slipped his cock out your mouth, but to your surprise he looked far from concerned about the new audience. 

Stretching his neck he turned his head in the direction of the occupied stall, while he wrapped his fist around the base of his cock. Even in his hands it looked big, and you started to wonder how you’d ever managed to fit it down your throat. A beat passed before he turned his head to look at you again, a wicked grin coating his lips as he bobbed his cock in your face, rubbing the head over your closed lips before he slapped it lightly against your cheek.

“Open up,” he mouthed with another light slap to your cheek. His actions made a tingle of arousal spread throughout your body, and you realized in shock how much the thought of getting caught turned you on.

You did as Joel said and opened your mouth for him to feed you his cock again. He watched you very closely this time, letting you ease yourself down his cock at your own pace, trying your best to be quiet. When the very tip of your nose made contact with the thatch of coarse dark hair at the base and your lips were snug around his cock, Joel couldn’t help himself. The grounding hand at the back of your head held you down as he shoved himself as deep as he possibly could down your throat, his balls bouncing against your chin at the movement.

To your right you heard the unmistakable sound of a toilet being flushed and a lock being twisted. Your eyes welled up with tears, your vision fogging over as you tried your best to fight against your gag reflex. Over you, Joel watched you with a proud smirk on his lips. When the sound of the sink turning on echoed through the restroom, you allowed a whimpering gag to escape you as you squeezed your eyes shut.

It shouldn’t have turned you on as much as it did, but the thrill of getting caught choking on an older man’s cock, a man who was essentially a stranger, made you wonder if you could come untouched. You were so close already, just a flick of your clit would send you off the edge of bliss.

Your eyes were about to roll back into your head when Joel finally pulled back. You gasped violently for air at the exact moment the door opened, filling the toilets with loud music for a moment before you and Joel were locked away again in your own little world. Like you were on autopilot, your hand slipped between your thighs to find your clit, and soon you were withering with your orgasm.

“Oh, there you go, honey, come all over those fingers f’me, just like that,” you heard Joel say, though the force of your orgasm made it seem like he was far away, like your ears were filled with cotton.

When you finally calmed down, you steadied yourself with a tug at Joel’s jeans – the fabric rough under your fingertips. Over you Joel fisted his cock as he watched you with a wild look in his eyes.

“Goddamn, baby, you’re so fuckin’ hot comin’ like that just from gettin’ your throat fucked.”

“Thank you, sir,” you managed to let out, your voice strained and hoarse.

Realizing he must’ve been close, you sat up straighter on your knees, ready to pull him off the edge too. Leaning forward, you stuck out your tongue, licking a fat strip up the seam of his balls to the underside of his shaft. His cock jumped in his hand as Joel let out a breathy laugh.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he muttered, “Look me in the eyes honey– look me in the eyes when you lick my balls.” Joel jerked his cock above your face as you continued to lick at his heavy balls – your eyes locked with his.

“Look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he choked out through groans, “Suck on ‘em, baby, suck on my balls.”

Blinking up at him you tried your best to fit one of them in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and sucking greedily and lapping at the skin, before you moved on to treat the other with the same amount of love.

Joel’s mouth dropped open in a gape, his breath coming out quicker and more staggered. He squeezed himself harder at the base with each jerk before skating his thumb over the swollen head, massaging it. 

“Fuck,” he panted, “I’m gonna come, baby, I’m gonna fuckin’ come.”

Popping his balls from your mouth you hurriedly sat up in front of him, the tip off his cock brushing over the plump of your bottom lip with every thug of his cock.

“Please, sir,” you begged, “Please, come in my mouth.”

Joel wasn’t one to deny your request, especially not when you were sat so pretty in front of him with your tongue sticking out.

A second later, Joel shoved his cock in your mouth and came – balls drawn tight as he shot his load down your throat. The force of it made you gag a little at first, the restriction around his sensitive cock only making him come harder. He groaned above you as you sucked him dry, before he pulled back when it was too much, and caught his breath.

“Say Ah,” he said, a gentle but firm hand cupping your jaw. The squeeze of his fingers made your mouth drop open to reveal the cum coated on your tongue and where it pooled at the back of your throat. “Don’t swallow– Let me see, darlin’.”

Your smile fought against his grip. Sticking your tongue out the best you could, you let him see the state he’d left you in; chin coated in saliva, tears starting to dry on your cheeks, mouth puffy and fucked, and marked in this stranger’s cum.

“Pretty as a picture,” he tutted before he let go of your jaw, and with a pat to your cheek finally gave you permission to swallow.

After that it was like the spell had broken between you. Joel helped you to your feet, both of you giggling when your legs wobbled like a foal unsteady on its feet. He held you upright with a strong hand to your waist, while the other one traveled up the length of your body to cup your face, and bring it closer to place a slow and sensual kiss to your lips.

“Would you believe me if I told you I’d never done anything like that before?” You asked him a moment later as he helped you clean your face by the sink.

Joel gave you a look in the mirror.

“You don’t?” you exclaimed.

Joel gave you an infuriatingly casual shrug, “It ain’t your first time suckin’ dick that’s for sure,” he teased with a pinch to your side which made you jump.

Giving him a playful shove, you said, “I’m not lying! I’ve never had a one-night stand.”

“Well, the night’s still young,” Joel joked, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and dipping his head to place a soft kiss to the column of your neck.

You leaned into his touch, feeling the soft grip of his hands on your body, and the soft presses of his kisses as you watched the two of you in the mirror. You found that you liked the reflection looking back at you, and if you were lucky, you hoped he liked it too; maybe enough to want to see you again.

“I can’t go back out there like this,” you said after a moment.

Your dress had finally dried, but so had the beer – staining it yellow.

Joel lifted his head from your neck to rest his chin on your shoulder as his eyes scanned your body in the mirror. 

“I have a flannel in my truck I can borrow you?”

“More layers in this heat?” you questioned, already sweating at the thought.

A wide grin spread across Joel’s face, full of mischief, “I guess I’ll just have to take ‘em off of you later, then.”

Turning around in his hold, you wrapped your hands around his neck, your fingers toying with the hair curling at his neck as you met his eyes. “That doesn’t sound so bad,” you whispered, painfully aware of the wet stain of arousal soiling your panties and sticking to your cunt.

“No, it doesn’t,” Joel hummed, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. 

“Wanna get out of here?” you asked and brushed your lips over his.

A moment later Joel guided you out the restrooms with a protective hand resting at the small of your back. Weaving through the crowd, you’d made your way almost to the exit when you heard a shout of your name over the music.

“There you are!” Sarah shouted again as she moved through the crowd towards you and Joel, arms reached out to the sky.

“Oh! And you’ve finally met my dad!”

i hope this was okay and that someone liked this? as always feedback as a comment, in the tags, as an ask or reply is very much appreciated, and they make me super happy! <3 i'm very curious to hear your thoughts about this! <3

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