#last of us imagine

[nikka-v]

Apocalypse - Joel Miller x fem! Reader smut

Summary: y/n is raised by Bill and Frank and since they found her they always protected her. Then when two guests arrive, she found a herself crushing on the handsome, older man.

Warnings: nsfw, swearing?, smut, first time (p in v), oral (fem! receiving), age gap! (reader is in her 20s), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it guys)

Minors DNI, please!!

Hope you like it and I really hope that there won't be many mistakes because I'm not from English speaking country so the grammar is sometimes a bit complicated ♥️

When you first met Joel you were only a child and you technically did not meet him, you just saw him through your window. Bill did not want Tess or Joel to see you or even know about you even though the second thing quickly happened as Frank told them accidentally.

"Have you met any other people around here?" Tess asked Frank who was the only one mainly talking. Bill was his usual self, sitting quietly and carefully watching the two newcomers while slowly drinking his glass of wine.

“Except y/n no. Not even any raiders actually." firstly he did not even realize that he talked about you but Bill quickly shot him a displeasing look. He was extremely protective of you even when you were not his kid. He was the one who found you and brought you home to Frank so he felt the need to protect you all the time.

"y/n? Who is that?" Tess was curious, well who would not be in a world like that when the only 'people' you mainly meet are these undead creatures or people who are trying to rob you? Frank looked at Bill as if he was asking for his permission to tell them about you but even if he shook his head it would not make difference as Frank already started talking.

"She is like our daughter. Well, obviously not by blood but we are raising her like that. Bill found her when he went to see one of the towns a few miles away, it was completely burned but he found there some of the infected hoarding around a small wooden cottage. The parents left their kid there to die because they could not handle taking care of her anymore when she broke her ankle. They even told her that and then said that she will manage on her own better, that the raiders won't kill, they did not think about infected at all." Frank was explaining and surprisingly both Tess and Joel were hanging on to all of his words. "That happened two years ago, she was seven at that time and let me tell you, she was stubborn and had a heart of a fighter, which is making her really hard to raise but we love her. Actually, it would be fun to show her some new people, don't you think?" that question was meant for Bill who quickly rose from the table and shook his head at Frank.

"Not a chance. We do not know these people at all Frank, they will not see her!" Bill was almost screaming at Frank which made him feel really bad later that day but at that moment he thought it would be the only thing stopping him from showing his little girl to some strangers. They did not see you standing near the window, watching the whole situation, carefully so no one would notice you took your small polaroid camera, taking a quick photo of the strangers who were just quietly watching your two guardians arguing. As you looked at the photo and then back at them you felt the man's gaze on you, he could not see you properly, just saw a figure but you quickly hid anyway and stayed hidden until they left, looking at the polaroid photo you took.

You've seen them a few more times but they never saw you, as Bill was strictly against it. So when they stopped coming over you were not that mad but kept the photo anyway, just so you could maybe one day recognize them.

Years went by, during days you helped both Bill and Frank when they needed and later when they fell asleep you disabled the security system and sneaked out. You were walking outside of the fence, waiting for something to happen, for some infected to show or a person to show but for such a long time nothing happened so you kinda started to wish you could go explore other towns and cities. Just to escape the boring life, even though the boring life kept you alive, or at least that's what Frank told you when you confessed to him about your small trips and the wish of going away. He was not angry, that was the difference between Bill and him, Bill would scream and say some nasty stuff but Frank just stared at you blankly and then told you to be careful and take a gun with you. You felt terrible and that's maybe the reason why you stopped thinking about leaving for another few months. Until Joel came at least.

It was one of the calm days, you just celebrated your twenty-second birthday few days ago so you were sitting on a roof with camera that you got from Frank. You got there from the window of your room, watching the area through the scope of your rifle which Bill gave you so you could train shooting and you were surprisingly good. At first, you did not want to believe it, thinking it was maybe just a lost infected but later you realized it was in fact a human being. Actually two of them. Taking your walkie in your hand you quickly informed Bill and Frank who were cooking lunch together.

"Dads? We may have a problem here." you started to call them that when you were twelve. They saved your life and took you in as if you were their kid so it was not a huge surprise that you felt like they were fathers to you.

"What is it y/n? Are you okay?" Bill answered worriedly and you heard him run out. You quickly got down from the roof thanks to a rope you had there from your night walks (a few weeks ago you said to Bill that it was there for emergencies if something happened) and pointed to the horizon where walked the two figures, letting him take your rifle to look through the scope.

"Son of a bitch, get inside y/n and do not come out until I tell you so." you hesitantly looked at Bill who gave you back the rifle and murmured quietly 'please' which made you get back on the roof and to your room. You wanted to know what was going on so you hid behind a curtain and looked through a small hole. You expected Bill to take another gun but he walked closer to the fence, Frank right behind him and opened the gate. Because of the distance, you could not hear what they were telling the other two people but when you took your binoculars to at least look at these people, you recognized them. They were the people from the photo you kept in your nightstand. Joel and Tess. You remembered their name only because Frank told you and you wrote it on the back side of the photo.

"Come in, oh my God Tess, it is so nice to see you again. And the same goes for you Joel." you finally heard Frank's voice as the four of them got closer to the house.

"We are travelling to find Tommy. He's not communicating so we just wanted to stop by and ask if we could stay here one night and tomorrow get going again." Tess explained carefully, probably not to upset Bill but Frank immediately stepped into the conversation.

"Of course, it will not be a problem, right Bill?" he looked at Bill with a stern look which he rarely had to use, mainly because Bill listened to almost everything that Frank wanted.

"Thank you so much, look, we have some new seeds which of course won't be enough to pay for your generosity, but we are willing to give your also some of our supplies and help you with anything you want of course." Tessa was now talking to Bill who just nodded and they all started to walk towards the house again. You leaned towards the window a bit more as you could not see them too much, knocking over a box with some vinyl which you kept in your room. Before you could hide again, Joel's head looked up, making quick eye contact before hiding again. On his face appeared a small smirk as he saw you for a brief moment. He immediately knew who you were.

"No, you can't take her there to meet them." you heard after few minutes Bill's voice behind your door, so you quickly skipped towards them and leaned your ear on it so you would hear the conversation.

"They proved themselves to you many times before, why would they all of sudden do something to us?" Frank was speaking quietly so you barely heard him but they were really close to your room.

"We have not seen them for many years and all of sudden they show up here, that is strange." you tried to remember when you saw them for the last time and it was really a long time ago.

"That is not strange, we were communicating through the radio once in a few months, they are our friends or at least mine, so I am sure it is going to be okay." there was silence behind the door for what felt like few minutes, you already started to think that they left but then a knock on your door startled you, making you jump from the door a bit.

"Yes?" you opened it, seeing Frank who was smiling almost as much as when you first told him to teach you how to play piano.

"We want you to meet someone if you are up for it." it did not take even two seconds for you to nod.

"Yes, of course." Frank led you downstairs, where in the kitchen were sitting the only other people you've ever seen in the house.

"We thought that now when you will be here for the night it would be good to introduce you. This is y/n, the girl I've been telling you about a few years back. Y/N, this is Tess and the grumpy man is Joel." you smiled at them, shaking hands with Tess who smiled at you as well and then when you turned to shake hands with Joel, he was completely and absolutely captivated by you. His lips were parted a little, looking into your eyes as if he saw a miracle. You felt the heat in your cheeks as you smiled at him again and then quickly turned to Frank who was setting up the table meanwhile.

"Can I help you somehow?" you asked him, wishing for him to send you for some stuff but he just shook his head.

"It's all set actually, so no need, but thank you." Frank poured wine into the five glasses on the table and after a few more minutes, when you all sat at the table and were waiting for Bill to bring the food, he brought some fish he caught in the morning that day. The whole time when you were listening to Tess and Frank talking you felt Joel's gaze on you. It was not uncomfortable, not at all, you wanted that man to watch you and maybe even touch you. He was trying so hard not to look at you but he was failing so hard, he just could not help it. You were sitting opposite him, next to Tess so he could pretend to just look at her but actually, it was you and you were aware of that.

"Could you show Joel one of the guest bedrooms? I am going to take Tess to see the garden, so I will show her the other one later." Frank asked you nicely after lunch when Bill was cleaning up alone from the table and then in the kitchen even though both of the guests and you offered your help.

"Sure." that was the only thing you managed to get out of you as you stood up and started walking towards the stairs where you waited for Joel. You could not help yourself but look properly at him, almost scanning him with your eyes.

"Thank you for showing it to me, darling." you had to take a deep breath when he called you that. You basically knew him for only like an hour, so you did not want to show him how attracted you were towards him but let's be honest, after so many years with only your 'fathers' you were horny as fuck and could not handle men affecting properly.

"Here it is, we do not use it normally but the bathroom works and some men's clothes are in the closet, so you can take shower and then change if you want." you tried not to make eye contact by opening the curtains and looking out of the window but after few seconds you looked anyway.

"Thank you again, you really are a good girl." that almost made your knees stop working so you quickly smiled and walked to the door, before saying quick 'bye' and sliding to your own room which was just a few steps from the one where he was. Leaning your back on the door you almost shouted from the feelings that were screaming inside your head.

---

For the rest of the day you were in your room, hiding from everyone, mainly the brown-eyed man who made you want to have sex with him so much. You thought that maybe he did not do it on purpose, that maybe you were imagining all these things but that was not true at all. He was thinking about you the whole day when he was helping Bill around the fence and the house. He could not get you out of his head. You were an angel sent from heaven, that's what he thought.

You wished that they would not have to leave the next day and somehow your wishes came true. Tess fell from a ladder when she was trying to help Frank pick fruits from his tree garden. She did not break her ankle but she bruised it really badly so it was hard for her to walk, so they had to stay for another few days. Both you and Frank were thrilled, even though you did not show it that much but Bill was almost ready to kick them out. It was only because you said to him, that you like the company, that he let it be and let them stay longer.

Joel was always trying to be close to you when it was possible. Helping you carry heavy stuff, even though you were more than capable to do it by yourself, sitting next to you at the table and more importantly leaving small touches on your body when walking around. For example, on your waist, as he was walking around you in tight spaces or just leaving his hand on yours for a brief second when you gave him his coffee or some tools when he asked you to bring him something.

It all happened two days before he and Tess were supposed to leave. Everybody was already in their bedrooms sleeping, that's what you thought when suddenly you heard a quiet knock. You were on the roof but the window was opened so you called on whoever was behind the door to come in. When you saw Joel, you almost wished you could jump from the roof because of how much chemistry was built between you two in the previous days. You could not take any more of it. You were planning on telling him everything the next day so if he laughed at you, he would leave the next day and you would not have to see him again for a long time.

"Can I come in?" he asked as if he did not already close the door behind himself and walked closer to the window.

"Sure, you can come out here as well." you offered and watched how he hesitated for a second but then got out of the window and sat next to you. You were wearing only a long shirt and shorts so your naked legs were touching his because he was wearing just shorts and some hoodie which he found in the closet. You immediately felt goosebumps all over your body so you took a sip of a wine which you brought from the kitchen. Bill did not like you to drink alone but what he does not know does not hurt him, right?

"Why are you sitting here?" he asked nonchalantly and drank from the bottle which you handed him. You had to think about what to tell him but the silence between you was comfortable so you were not in a rush with your answer.

"I like when the world is dark and quiet like this. I can freely think about anything, for example, how is the world out of here. It is such a long time since I've been out there with Bill and saw other places." you explained, looking at the moon which came out from behind the clouds. Of course, you've done a fair amount of exploring by yourself but you were curious about bigger cities and other groups.

"The world is beautiful but terrifying out there. Infected are almost like the smallest problem there. Raiders who are killing anyone in their way and doing other bad things." you knew what he meant by that. Both Bill and Frank told you that many raiders would take advantage of finding a girl like you out in the world.

"I would love to see the world, I don't want to be stuck out here. I love Bill and Frank and I know they want the best for me but I just can't stay here my whole life." you were not complaining but you somehow knew that Joel would understand you.

"I get it, I really do, but let's be honest, even if you could fight and shoot like a pro, it is so hard to survive out there by yourself. You can't leave alone." even though you were looking at the sky, you knew that he was watching you. He was so scared that you would be by yourself and some people would come and kill you or hurt you any other way.

"I know, I am not leaving today if that's what you want to hear." he did not say it out loud, but he felt relieved because of that.

"Okay, that's good to hear, I am sure Bill and Frank would be devastated if you left without saying goodbye." he said instead, making you feel a little hurt because you thought that he did not care about you at all and just was thinking about how your 'dads' would feel, but you quickly shook your head when he was not watching you, to make yourself think straight.

"You and Tess are leaving in two days, right? It is nice to see a couple like you." you still were not sure what exactly was the deal between them. Were they a couple? Friends with benefits? Just friends or partners? You were hoping he would correct you.

"Yeah, that's right." again the hurting somewhere close to your heart before he spoke again. "And we are not a couple. There were some moments where we could be called a couple but we are just friends," he added, watching closely your reaction which you tried to hide but you breathed out with relief anyway.

"Okay, sorry if I am snooping too much." he laughed, quietly but you heard it anyway. His hand on which he was leaning was dangerously close to yours and you started to realize that and moved it a bit closer. Just a few millimetres so he would not realize it, but he did. He was studying all of your moves, wanting to know what was going on in your head.

"Don't worry about it, I don't mind." the bottle in your hand was quickly empty so you put it away next to a few other bottles which you hid so Bill would not find out about you drinking alone.

"I will probably head to bed," you said quietly and looked into his eyes while starting to get inside, where you waited for him to get in, and then you closed the window, making sure to close the curtains as well. Joel was watching you curiously and before you realized he was behind you, you stepped back and bumped into him. "I am so sorry!" you quickly turned to him but did not step away and neither did he. Your faces just were just a few centimetres away from each other and his hands gently touched your waist.

"That's okay, actually I really like to have you so close," he whispered, his eyes jumping from your eyes to your lips. But you were the one who broke the distance, connecting your lips to his. Your hands moved from his chest where they were resting to his shoulders and then behind his neck, pulling him closer to you. He immediately kissed you back, not hesitating for even a second his hands moved to your cheeks, holding you as if you wanted to run away.

So many emotions in just one kiss. You could not believe that this was happening and neither did Joel who for a split second thought that it could have been a dream. He dreamed about you almost every night. You, in his bed or in the shower with him, touching him all over and him doing the same before pressing himself against you and fucking you senseless. But then he realized what was happening and pulled you away just a few centimetres, looking straight into your eyes.

"y/n is this your first time doing anything?" you were a bit scared of this question, thinking that if you said 'yes' he would not want to have anything with you.

"Well, yes but I want it." you had to look away so that if he said something bad you would not have to see his face. But he took your chin with his fingers, making you look at him.

"If you really want it, I can give it to you. I would do anything for you. I can not tell how much I wanted this to happen." as he was speaking you felt sort of relieved that he was saying that but still you were a bit scared. No of the act itself or that it would hurt but because he would think that you are bad at it or something but all these worries melted away as he kissed you again. Slowly his hands travelled down your body, searching for the hem of your shirt which you helped him pull over your head. As he saw your naked body with just shorts on, he had to stop himself from hurrying, he wanted to make it nice for you, wanted to be gentle as much as possible so you would enjoy it.

You put your hands on your breast, shy a bit because of how he was watching you even though the room was kinda dark, just two candles lit at your nightstands. Joel quietly laughed, kissing your forehead before putting his hands on yours, pulling them away so he could see you.

"You are so pretty, baby," he whispered, kissing your neck suddenly, making you whimper quietly as he touched your ribs and then his hands travelled to your chest, caressing your breast. His hands were gentle but rough at the same time and he started to move lower with his kisses, stopping at your stomach as he kneeled in front of you. He then touched the hem of your shorts, questioningly looking at you, asking for permission, which made it even more erotic more you.

"Please, Joel, just touch me somehow." you were needy and who wouldn't if someone like Joel would kneel in front of them? On his face appeared a small smile again, he loved finally seeing you from this perspective. Slowly pulling down the shorts along with your thongs which you stole in a lingerie shop on one of your night runs to the small town nearby.

"Oh god, so beautiful." all these compliments he was giving you caused you to get wetter every second. He looked you in your eyes, waiting again for any sign of discomfort but you gave him the type of look which told him every reassurance he needed. You were absolutely devoted to him, wanting to go all the way with this man who you properly knew for only a few days.

Before you could beg for his touch again, his hand move to your thighs, making your legs spread a little and as you looked at him, he moved closer to you, gently with one stroke licking your clit. You were thinking about one thing, if this felt this good, how will the sex feel? Can it be even better? You could not think much more, he started to suck on your clit, his hands still on your thighs, thumbs rubbing small circles on your skin.

"Joel, that feels so good." you moaned, maybe a bit too loudly, but lucky for you, no one was in the room next to yours. You almost did not notice one of his hands disappear from your wast, entering you with one finger.

"Do you touch yourself, love?" he moved just a few centimetres away from your clit, looking up at you, provoking you with the naughty smirk he had on his lips. Of course, you did, lately more than ever, but who could judge you, it was an apocalypse and you could not be sure if you would ever meet men or women with who you could be sexual.

"Sometimes." you definitely did not want to lie, but why would you tell him how often, right? He probably believed you or if he did not, he did not show it on his face, instead, he put his mouth to use again, hitting the important spot with his finger to which he added one more. You were trying to get steady as your knees started to buckle under the rush of pleasure you were feeling. Joel probably noticed that, as he pushed you a little, so you could have leaned back on the window sill, at least gaining a bit of balance.

One of your hands was in Joel's hair, gently pulling so you would not hurt him but instead of it to show him how good he was making you feel. Of course, you were moaning more loudly because of how close to your first orgasm of the night you were but you were all in for physical contact as it was really important for you.

"Come on baby, cum for me." the hoarse voice of Joel, made you realize how close you really were. As you tried to contain your moans, you bit your lower lip, your head tilted back and the knuckles on your hand with which you were holding the window sill, got white as a result of how much you pressed it.

When you once read about women's orgasms, you found the book in the library, you read about the stars in front of the woman's eyes when it was really good. Well, Joel was definitely good at what he was doing as you really saw stars and it took you a few minutes to calm yourself down. These few minutes Joel was holding you in his arms, letting you lean on him with his full weight.

"That was amazing," you whispered to his chest, your hands on his stomach under his hoodie, He was looking down at you, a tender smile on his face, contemplating how beautiful you were with red cheeks, a bit teary eyes and chewed lips.

"Do you still have energy?" he asked, softly kissing your forehead. You looked into his eyes from under your lashes and smiled as if you still had the energy to do anything. He slowly picked you up and let you put your legs around his waist as he brought you to your bed, where he gently, so he would not hurt you, laid you down and then leaned above you to kiss you on your lips. The kiss lasted probably a few seconds but you wanted it to last forever.

Joel kneeled above you, took off the hoodie and threw it somewhere next to the bed. You already saw him without his shirt when he was helping outside in the sun and was too hot in his usual shirt but now it was much more erotic. He noticed you looking at him and kissed you again, he could not resist you, and probably would do anything you would ask him to at that moment.

"You sure, you wanna do it?" he asked you and somehow that made you more aroused. You liked how he wanted your permission, it was important to you.

"More than anything right now." your voice was more like a whisper as you were starting to get a bit nervous but man, you wanted him to do it immediately. You wanted to feel him inside you, you needed it.

"Look, I am going to be careful, if something was too much, just tell me okay? I will stop immediately." he was a bit worried, you could have heard it in his voice.

"I am sure, it's gonna be okay. No need to worry." you smiled at him, trying to make him feel better, which helped as he smiled back and raised from the bed to take off his shorts and boxers which he had underneath. Before you could properly look at his naked body, he already was above you, between your knees, massaging your sensitive clit again to make you wet, but that was not a problem at all so continued with himself.

He stroke himself a few times but he was already rock hard for some time now. He had to relieve himself the day before just because he saw your side boob in one of your shirts before you went to sleep, so he could not get more aroused by you. He guided the tip of his cock to your entrance, slowly pushing himself into you, not wanting to make it painful.

It was okay for a few seconds but Joel was a lot bigger than you thought, making you stretch around him. You rigged your nails in his shoulders, chewing your lips again, your eyes closed.

"Slowly, please," you whispered to his ear as he lean closer to your neck to kiss you. He tried, he really did and it was really hard given the fact that it was a long time since he had sex and you were so damn tight. It took you some time to get adjusted to him but it was still not enough.

"It's okay baby, we can leave it be, we can try tomorrow, I can prepare you better." he was trying to talk you out of it so he would not hurt you but you were stubborn and too needy for this. You shook your head, not wanting to give up.

"I can try to sit on you." just this sentence almost made Joel cum, you were just so innocent. He pulled himself out, laying on his back, helping you to get above him. You weren't scared, you knew that if he hunted you like this, it would not be his fault but yours because of how stubborn you were, but you just wanted it, needed it.

"Slowly okay? No need to hurry." he tried to calm your movements and hold you by your waist as you took his cock to your hand to guide yourself to it. Slowly you started to lower above him, stretching more than before. The soothing words that Joel was whispering, like 'it's okay, take your time my love' and 'you can do it baby' helped you a lot with the pain which started to disappear. You did not sit at him properly, you both knew that Joel will have to do the last movement but he wanted to wait for your signal.

He turned you both so he could be again above you and with a long kiss on your lips he thrust into you, making you moan and cry out a little.

"So brave for me," he whispered after a few seconds before he started to move a little. The pain was slowly fully replaced by pleasure and you could not hold the moans anymore, kissing Joel to silence yours and his whimpers.

One of your hands was on his shoulder, the other you moved to his waist and then lower, to his ass, pulling him closer to you with each thrust. The little whimpers he made when you moved to kiss his neck made you feel so good, hearing that he was also enjoying that.

"I don't think I will last any longer, my love." when he called you like that a few times, you started to feel this nice feeling in your stomach and now it really affected you a lot more. And in just a few more seconds you felt his fingers on your clit, rubbing circles on it to make you cum along with him. And you did. As you got closer, you tightened around him, making him grunt a little and accompanied by your loud moan you felt him filling you. It was like ecstasy, you thought that you've never experienced such a good feeling as sex with Joel.

The only noises in the room were your deep breaths. Joel lay next to you, pulling you into his arms, which made you feel really good. You needed someone to hold you for so long. All the nice feelings made you suddenly realise that he was supposed to leave soon and leave you there only with Bill and Frank. You looked at Joel with tears in your eyes which scared him a little.

"What is it, baby? Are you okay, is something hurting you?" he asked with concern in his voice but you shook your head to reassure him, that you were okay like physically.

"You are leaving soon." in his eyes appeared the sudden realization of the fact that he still was planning to leave to find his brother. He loved his brother and needed to know that he was okay but he really cared about you and did not want to leave you. He wanted you by his side, actually no, he needed you.

"I need to know my brother is okay." he wanted to take you with him but did not want to risk your life even though you would have him and Tess to protect you. He was not sure what to do.

"I will go with you," you suggested immediately, knowing that he was already thinking about it from the look on his face.

"You know I would love to have you with me, but what if something happened? Your dads would kill me." he tried to joke a little but you just wanted to go with him, not caring about what they would think. You knew they would be doing just fine without you.

"I do not care, Joel, please, let me come. I know how to fight and shoot, I can take care of myself and help you and Tess." you were looking into his eyes, almost begging him to take you with them. Not only that you would be with him but you could explore the world and finally see the proper cities you wanted.

"We will talk about it tomorrow, yes?" he asked, kissing your forehead, and making you close your eyes. "We will try to think of something," he added as if he was convincing himself more than you.

And as you nodded and started to slowly fall asleep, the last thought you had in your mind was, that he could disappear before you wake up and come back only if he will find his brother and survive.

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[hottpinkpenguin]

Joel Miller X Fem!Reader - Last of Us - Part 2

A/N: read part 1 here!

Warnings: hints of sexual violence (no descriptions); dark themes; post-apocalyptic dystopia; death of reader's minor child; probably a lot of non-canon details since I've never played the game; not proofread; spoilers if you haven't seen the show/played the game Word Count: 2650 Abbreviations: QZ = quarantine zone; FDRA "Fedra" = Federal Disaster Response Agency

----

“You look like hell, Joel.”

“K.”

Tessa looked Joel up and down, making a point to grimace as she did. 

“What, am I too ugly to do business with or something?” Joel’s tone was biting, his patience running thin. The restlessness in his bones was gnawing something awful today.

“Where’d your pet go?”

Joel’s stare was flat, but Tessa knew him well enough to see the slight jump in his jaw muscle as he clenched his teeth momentarily.

“My pet?”

“Yeah, that sad sack with the dead kid.” 

Joel’s knuckles turned white on the back of the chair he was leaning on. 

“What are you talk-”

“Oh come on, Joel. Don’t act like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like every other stupid fuck around here.” Tessa gestured around the dimly lit basement where she’d met Joel for the swap. They were alone, but Joel knew who she was referring to. Her crew. Good at stealing, running, and turning profits, but not amusing to her the way he was. Joel didn’t react, he just kept staring at her.

“It’s my job to know what my guys are up to,” Tessa pointed out as if she were explaining something to a young child. 

“I’m not one of your guys,” Joel countered through gritted teeth. “The only thing we need to know about each other is what I have and what you’ll pay for it.” He looked pointedly at the half-smoked pack of cigarettes, sawed off shotgun, and car battery on the table between them. 

Tessa chewed on the inside of her lip as she looked up at him. The bare lightbulb overhead cast harsh shadows on her face. 

“That wasn’t always true, though.” Her voice was softer now, a hint of playfulness in her tone. An invitation. She smirked up at him coquettishly. Joel shook his head, trying to shake out the memories that expression brought to mind. 

“That was a mistake, Tessa.” 

“A good one, though. Sometimes good mistakes are worth making a few times.” 

Joel shook his head, exhaling softly. He should have known better. Never put your prick where you put your money. 

“No, Tessa.”

“Come on, Joel. Just for old time’s sake.”

“Not gonna happen.”

Tessa’s eyes turned from flirtatious to bitter as the smile melted from her lips. 

“So she was your pet.”

Joel felt himself tense up. This was a game that he really didn’t want to play. Tessa was a dangerous woman. He’d done well to stay on her good side for so many years, but this had been a serious miscalculation. He shouldn’t have plucked at her jealousy by bringing you into the mix. 

“She wasn’t anything,” he insisted. He kept his tone even, forced himself to hold Tessa’s accusing gaze. Tessa had a good bullshit meter, but she was blind when it came to Joel. He’d used that a few times before, but this was a moment when it really mattered. He couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t risk you. 

A heavy tension settled between them as Tessa took a drag of her cigarette. Joel swallowed down a surge of anger at the oblique threat to your safety. 

“Fine.” Tessa stood up quickly, tamping out the end of her cigarette on the table and surveying its contents. “I’ll give you eight for the lot.” 

Joel ran a hand through his graying hair in exasperation. 

“That’s less than half of what we agreed on.”

“Yeah, it is.” Tessa knocked on the metal door behind her. It swung open, two of her lackeys swooping in to scoop up the contraband that Joel had brought her. Tessa grabbed a duffel bag from one of them, unzipping a side pocket and rifling through a dirty, wrinkled stack of meal cards. She pulled out eight pink slips and thrust them towards Joel. He knew better than to argue, and took them begrudgingly. 

“You’re screwing me on this, Tessa.” 

“And you’re screwing her.” Tessa’s voice was low. Joel didn’t miss the pain in her words. “In your dreams or in reality. Either way, you’re screwing her.” 

Joel opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. His mouth snapped close. Tessa nodded in confirmation. She zipped up the duffel bag and swung it over her shoulder as she turned to leave.

“So this is about me not picking you?” Joel couldn’t stop the question from slipping out. He could have kicked himself for the fucking stupidity. 

Tessa froze halfway up the first step of the stairwell behind the door. She half-turned back to him. On the other side of the doorframe, her entire face was cast in shadow. 

“Partially. But partially because I can’t trust you anymore.”

“How do you figure that?” Joel stuffed the eight cards into the back pocket of his jeans, sensing that their conversation was coming to an end. He didn’t want to linger any longer than he needed. 

“Because. You’re not a free agent anymore, Joel. You’ve got something to lose. Which means people can get to you. And if they can get to you, they can get to me.” 

Tessa didn’t wait for him to reply before she started up the stairs. The door behind her swung shut, leaving Joel alone with the bare lightbulb and a jolt of fear in his gut that confirmed one thing:

Tessa was right. 

*****

The frozen ground crunched under your knees as you knelt down in front of the lopsided piece of wood that marked Gabriel’s grave. He wasn’t buried there, of course; FDRA confiscated all the corpses. What they did with them from there, you couldn’t let yourself think about. But you’d buried his favorite pair of sneakers and the tattered Captain America comic book he loved so much in this spot. It had been weeks since you’d visited. 

“Hi, baby.” You patted the cold, hard soil in front of his grave marker with a trembling hand. The frigid January air had gnawed your fingertips numb.

“I’m sorry it’s been so long.” 

In the distance, a raven cawed. 

“Things have been… well, they’ve been bad since you left.”

The abandoned lot you’d buried Gabriel in was overgrown with vines. It had been a playground once. A rusted swing set lay overturned on its side a few feet from where you knelt. Behind it, a monkey bar and slide combo emerged from the weeds. Gabriel used to like to play here when he was little. Eddie would take him on the rare days he had off. 

“I miss you.” You choked on the words, feeling your resolve beginning to fracture as tears burned the corners of your eyes. You swiped them away as your nose started to run. 

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m trying to do better. I’m trying, baby.” 

Next to the wooden stake with Gabriel’s name roughly carved into it, a second stake stuck out from the ground. It was more worn and weathered after years of sun and rain. Eddie’s name was barely visible anymore. Like Gabriel, Eddie also wasn’t buried here, but this was where you chose to remember him. 

“I love you both.” Two hands on the ground this time. One in front of each of your boys. A tear slid free from your cheek and slapped onto the frosted ground between your knees. 

“I’ll visit more, I promise.” You rose from your knees, tucking your frozen hands under your armpits with a shiver.

“What are you doing out here all by yourself?”

Your body went still, icy dread shooting through your veins. You knew that voice. 

“Just paying my respects, Dirk.” 

You turned to face Dirk Reynolds, keeping your face in a mask of calm. He was the last person you wanted to run into out here so far from the rest of the QZ. 

“Sorry to hear about your boy.” Dirk sounded anything but sorry. He was walking towards you slowly, eyeing you like prey. You fought the urge to run, but the sight of the FDRA-issued semi-automatic in his hands made you think twice. 

“Thank you, that means a lot.” Actually, it meant dog shit to you, but Dirk Reynolds wasn’t a man to play with. Even Eddie had been afraid of him, and Eddie was as fearless as they came. You swallowed, suddenly feeling very aware of how alone the two of you were.

“You’re all alone now, aren’t you?” You couldn’t help but take a half step back. He was still a good fifteen paces from you, but too close for comfort. His words set your teeth on edge. 

“I like to come out here by myself. Get some peace and quiet.” You knew that wasn’t the kind of alone Dirk was getting at, but you were desperate to change the subject. His brown, bloodshot eyes raked you up one side and down the other. Despite the layers of clothing you’d piled on to try and fight off the Boston winter, his gaze made you feel woefully underdressed. 

“That ain’t what I meant, y/n.” His voice dropped an octave, practically turning into a growl. He kept moving closer to you, taking his time, his eyes never leaving you.

“I’m getting by,” you stammered back. “Mrs. Hughes and her girls are good to me. They look out for me.” You wondered if Dirk would back down knowing that there were people who might miss you if you stayed out too long. Mrs. Hughes and her daughters were good to you, but you doubted that they’d notice your absence until well past curfew. God knows what shape Dirk would have you in by then. Your throat went dry and you felt your lip start to tremble.

“You look scared, y/n. I ain’t gonna hurt you.” He was close enough that you could hear the frost-stiff ground crunch under his feet.

“I- I know.” Your reply wasn’t convincing in the least. Because you knew one thing: Dirk Reynolds would hurt you. You’d heard plenty of stories from the other women who lived near you in the QZ. 

“I look out for my friends. And I’ve got plenty of friends around here. I could treat you real good. Keep you warm, comfortable. Keep you safe.” Dirk lingered on the last word, a thinly veiled threat. 

“I’m sure. And we all appreciate everything you do for us. Truly.” 

Dirk was FDRA, but he was also something of a self-styled neighborhood mafioso. He took bribes from all the drug dealers, smugglers, and pimps in the four block radius where you lived, and in exchange Dirk turned a blind eye to their goings and comings. You remembered him from when you’d first gotten to the QZ. He’d been a fat, boastful lecher back then. The twenty years since had seen him shed the beer gut and hone a real violent streak. He wasn’t the brightest man you’d met by half, but you couldn’t make the mistake of underestimating him. You hoped your appeal to his ego would work. 

“I wouldn’t mind if you showed me some of that appreciation.” 

You fell back another half step, your hands still raised in the air like it was a stick up. The fact that he hadn’t told you to put them down told you enough about his intentions. 

“What… Dirk, I- uh, I’m not ready… For all that. Still grie-grieving.” You could barely speak, the sheer panic ringing in your ears like bells. He was close enough to reach out and touch you now. You started calculating the chances of making it if you took off in a run. That gun he held in his hands gave you pause. You’d seen what Dirk did to some of the women who’d turned down his advances. And you’d known a few women - by face only - who’d mysteriously disappeared. There were rumors, of course, that Dirk had something to do with it; but up until now, you’d been able to wave those rumors off. You had other worries to pay attention to. But now, all you could think about was getting away. You didn’t think you’d make it very far before he shot you. And despite everything you’d lost, the terror pulsing in your blood told you that you weren’t ready to die. Not yet. 

“Y/N! There you are!” A vaguely familiar voice called out to you from over Dirk’s shoulder. You kept yourself completely still as Dirk’s face darkened in irritation, grunting angrily as he spun around to face the source of the sound. 

Joel Miller was striding across the frozen carpet of vines at the northeast corner of the empty playground, waving at you like you were an old friend. Your knees almost buckled in relief at the sight. 

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you! I wish you’d told me you’d come out here to see Gabriel.” Your heart twitched at the sound of your son’s name. An idle corner of your thoughts wondered how Joel knew that’s why you were here, but that was a question for later. With Dirk distracted, you made your move. You scurried around Dirk, careful not to get close enough to let him grab you, and made a beeline for Joel. You had to consciously fight the urge to run.

“Sir, I appreciate you looking after her.” Joel’s tone was sunny and friendly. A little too obsequious, you thought, but maybe that was because you knew Joel was putting on a show for Dirk’s benefit. 

You closed the distance between you and Joel quickly, the skin on your back prickling in a frenzy to get away from Dirk. 

“Get behind me,” Joel whispered to you through gritted teeth when you were in earshot. His voice was low and urgent, but the smile he wore for show never faltered.

“Yeah, sure, no problem.” Dirk’s reply was casual, but his tone was threatening and coarse. “Pretty little thing like that shouldn’t be alone in these parts. Can’t be too careful. All kinds of things slipping through the wall these days.” You knew Dirk was referring to the infected that occasionally broke into the QZ through the maze of dilapidated buildings, subway tunnels, and sewers. For your part, you’d have gladly traded the open city to get as far away from Dirk’s leering stare as possible. 

“That’s what I tell her, once a day if it’s twelve times. Isn’t it?” Joel turned to you, obscuring his face from Dirk’s view. There was a question in his eyes: did he hurt you. You shook your head quickly, letting your eyes fall to the ground. You sidled closer to Joel’s shoulder. He noted the movement and casually shifted his weight to step squarely between you and Dirk.

“We’ll go on and head back then. Don’t want to miss curfew. Thanks for your help, again. I won’t let her out of my sight, that’s a promise.” Joel turned away from Dirk, gesturing with his eyes for you to walk towards the boarded up building at the far end of the playground. He kept himself behind you, between you and Dirk. 

“Make sure you do that,” Dirk called out after the two of you. His voice was bitter and dark.

“Keep walking. Don’t look back,” Joel urged. He hovered a hand on your lower back, his touch so light you thought you imagined it. Despite the remnants of fear crackling in your nerves, his touch sent a gentle wave of warmth up your spine. You felt the terror subside slightly. 

You let Joel lead you silently back to his apartment. The two of you never shared a word, but there was a clear understanding that you wouldn’t be going home. It wasn’t until you stepped through the familiar doorway that you let out the faintest smile at the promise Joel had made: I won’t let her out of my sight. You knew the promise had been made under duress, but you sincerely hoped he was serious.

read part 3 here! **let me know if you want to be tagged in future chapters!

#joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #last of us #joel miller last of us #last of us imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal last of us #pedro pascal joel miller #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x y/n #last of us hbo

[blue-sadie]

Little Softie

Imagine:

Being Tommy's friend that he found and saved now your just tagging along with them slowly easing your way into their hearts some faster then others, Joel still on edge from the loss he'd suffered but every night you'd spend time with him slowly gaining his trust and his heart.

"Shit I hate that you've done this to me, making me fall in love with you after everything I've lost, I don't think I can lose someone else, I can't lose you"

#series x reader #fanfic series #series #last of us #last of us imagine #last of us x reader #last of us fluff #last of us x reader fluff #last of us fluff imagine #joel miller #Joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff imagine #joel miller x reader fluff

[jamiedc-they-them]

BEING JOEL’S SURVIVING CHILD AND AN OLDLER SIBLING TO ELLIE PART 1:

CW: Normal Last of Us Swearing/Violence; mention of suicidal thoughts

Sarah and you were best friends. Being twins did that to you.

You were in sync with each other, and you would team up to freak your dad out all the time.

“You’re just jealous you don’t have a twin, dad!” You would say to him when he asked you to stop.

Whatever you wrote, she always hyped it up. She was proud of her twin.

You both stayed up to celebrate your dads birthday.

You both got the money for the watch.

When the apocalypse starts, Sarah goes in front. She’s the fighter, you’re not.

“Dad?” You ask you father when you leave to the car.

“We’ll be ok, baby. I promise.”

You see, but Sarah isn’t so lucky.

There’s a shift in you after that. You fall into a pit.

You’re a fighter, a brutal one.

Your dad and you almost lose yourselves.

Tommy’s heart breaks as he sees how far you’ve gone because of the pain.

He leaves for the firefly’s but offers for you to go with him.

There’s a spark of your humanity when he asks, but you decline. He leaves things off better with you then Joel.

This humanity sometimes appears in the small stories you write.

Joel doesn’t like taking you on jobs, but your size is an advantage.

Tess cares for you like one of her own. Constantly calls you “what we’re fighting for and still keeping ourselves around for.”

It doesn’t make you feel as special as she intends, but it’s a nice gesture if nothing else.

She too tries to encourage your writing. She tries to find material for you. Sometimes Joel does too.

On one run, you meet a girl. A spirited girl named Ellie.

You don’t exactly get along like a house on fire, but you also aren’t cold to her either.

She’s someone you’re taking as cargo, sure. But she’s human.

“He always like this?” She asks you, referencing your dad.

“Most of the time, yeah.” You answer.

“Great.”

You get used to it,” you assure.

Her face doesn’t hold a smile, but she’s grateful internally for your assurance, and just for making conversation with her.

When you get to your hideout, your dad sleeps. Leaving you and Ellie awake.

“So, what is there to do?”

“I normally sit here, watching people.”

“...Can I join?”

“Sure,” you move to make space for her. She notes how you have a little pad and pencil, along with how you curl into yourself; you seem more natural, more relaxed.

“So, now what?”

“Now, I normally just watch people as they go. Sometimes write some ideas in here,” at ‘here’ you gesture to your notepad.

“About them?” she points outside.

You start to shake your head, then pause and look up, “sometimes. Most of the time, just ideas for stories. Sometimes I try and give them backstories.”

“Have you ever read Savage Starlight?”

“When I was younger, sure. Used to write my own little fics about them.”

She chuckles, though in interest, “that’s pretty cool.”

There’s a ghost of a smile on your face, “didn’t think so at the time. But, yeah, they were. One time, Sarah and I made up our own characters,” you don’t even clock the name drop of your dead sister, too clouded with the happiness of the memory, “just, acted out scenes for hours.”

“Sounds like fun,” her voice softens; she knows about Sarah, but she doesn’t say that. She’s lost people too after all.

“Yeah,” you say, “yeah, it was.”

She smiles a bit. She hasn’t had a friend in a longtime. Not since Riley. Though, the feelings for her ran in a different way. She doesn’t want to have you in the way she had a crush on her best friend. She just wants a friend.

You see her infection, and become guarded. But you see the conviction on her face when she says to you about being immune.

Hope is something you rarely let yourself feel, but you did in this moment. Maybe all the pain would be worth something if you could do this. Redemption could be yours.

Joel notices a push and pull with you. You’ll find yourself talking to Ellie, bonding with her, only to then pull away or stop yourself. You’re protective of her too, putting yourself in front of her when in danger. Though, she saves you too, killing zombies that have grabbed you or warning you about on coming ones.

For the first time in a while, Joel sees you smile when she brushes off Joel’s advice and crosses over the beam.

Then…then Tess dies. Both can tell it hurts you. It’s why Joel bans it from conversation.

“I’m sorry,” Ellie says to you, then goes by Joel’s rule.

When walking to Bill’s, she walks near you. She doesn’t say anything, but she hopes her presence can mean something.

Part of it does make her feel a bit safer, and makes the loss of Riley more easy; someone is nearby to just silently say “I’m here”

You give her a small smile in one moment of silence. She returns it, but she sees you’re thankful, not fully being alone with it all.

She just nods, she’s glad it’s helping and that you’re here too silently doing the same thing for her.

When she plays with the fireflies, there’s a smile on your face at her innocence in that moment. Even you have to admit, there’s a beauty to them and this world, despite everything.

Joel’s smile softens a bit when he looks at you. He knows Ellie is filling that void that losing Sarah left for you as well. He can see, with the way you then clear your throat and turn around, that it’s scaring you as much as it is him.

You both made a silent vow to never discuss it, but now that wound is being ripped open, the more you let Ellie in.

Joel knows Bill better than you, but you still warn Ellie about how the man can be.

When Ellie tells you both about the game, you don’t correct her on the (admittedly) small moments of incorrect information. She looks at you with glee, then asking you about it. About the other characters. And you’re honest with what you can remember. Twenty years of survival made you forget a lot of your old life.

You both work together, and it’s the first time the three of you have some (albeit slightly chaotic giving everything going on in the situation) level of synchronization. Ellie throwing you both ammo (she never actually pestered you for a gun, which you’re thankful for), Joel covering you; you giving Ellie a boost up, covering her as best you could, her giving you both warnings. It works.

You chuckle at her comments to Bill. You can see your father finds humour in them too, even if he won’t let himself show it.

When it comes to the bloater, Joel makes sure you get up there as well. Just in case.

With Frank, you find the note and give it to your dad.

“Jesus. Alright, thanks, kid.”

You leave it to him to decide what to do with it.

Despite her assurance that she knows how to pop a clutch, she does ask you in a whisper which one that is. You point if out for her.

“Actually. Y/N, why don’t you get in the car with Ellie? You drive.”

“Oh, c’mon?! Seriously?!” Ellie protests, despite trusting you and all. She thought it would be cool.

“How about you cover us from in there?” You say, bringing out your pistol and handing it to her.

“Y/N, no. That - that ain’t exactly what I had in mind for —“ your dad begins to protest himself. Damn it, he’s gone back in time with how you used to be with Sarah. Rebellious.

“Oh, fuck yes!” Ellie says as she takes the pistol, “I fucking love this plan! Get in, partner!” You do so, and pop the clutch, though almost stall the fucking thing.

“It’s been a while,” you use as an excuse.

“Weren’t you like my age when the world went to shit?”

“…Fair point.”

“I did let them drive once after a run,” Joel says as himself and Bill get ready to push the car.

“Joel…Not. The. Fucking. Time.” He says.

Ellie is a decent shot to be fair. So that’s something, at least.

Still, you make it through the town, and say goodbye to your ‘uncle’ Bill. He just tells you to fuck off when he hears that. You flip him off, not seeing Ellie also join you in that.

You’re her friend, she’s gonna back you up however she can. That, and despite him getting you a car, guy was somewhat of a dick to her, so.

She shows you the magazine, you just laugh. Even harder when she reveals she was just fucking with Joel with her questions.

She moves up to the front after seeing you fall asleep. Joel even pulls over so they both can get you laying down.

“They’re a deep sleeper,” Ellie comments.

“Yeah. Yeah, they ain’t been able to for a long time.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good that they still can though, right?” She asks.

“It is,” it’s the softest Ellie’s heard him speak since she’s met you both. And you look the softest you have yet. Guard completely let down.

Before getting back in the car, she makes sure to put your pistol back in your backpack.

They’re quiet with the music as they drive. It lulls Ellie off to sleep.

When the ambush happens, you wake up at the last minute, meaning it’s a blur to you. It almost gets you killed. After Joel saves Ellie, he sees you almost knocked out. That same fatherly rage overtakes him, and he is brutal with his kill. Ellie, meanwhile, helps move you to some cover, giving you some alcohol and cloth to clean the wounds later. She doesn’t ask if you’re ok, knowing that your now bloodied face is enough of an answer.

As Joel looks for supplies, she helps you with your face.

“You ever have things like this happen when you were younger?” She asks, trying to distract you from the sting you feel.

“To be honest, not really. Sarah and I would sometimes take a fall, that was the extent of our injuries most of the time. Though once or twice we’d get in a fight at school.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Some arsehole or something. We’d hear it, the other wouldn’t, then we’d just see red.”

“Must’ve been nice, having someone watch your back like that.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

“Well,” she says, pouring a bit more alcohol onto the cloth before dabbing it on your cut on your face, “for as long as we’re on this road trip together, I’ve got your back.”

“You have so far,” you say, and she smiles, “and I’ve got yours too. You’re a good kid. I, uh, I hope you can save the world with this immune thing.”

“It’d be good. I mean, most’ve the kids I knew were never that special in general. I never was in school,” you chuckle a bit - neither were you, “but this might mean something.”

“You want my advice?” She nods, putting the cloth and very little remaining alcohol away in her back pack, and handing you yours from the jeep as you stand up, “you’re already a good person, I’d say that’s special enough for a world like this. Just…try not to lose that, ok?”

The sincerity with your advice makes her nod genuinely, “I’ll do my best.”

“I know you will,” you ruffle her hair, “now, c’mon. Think dad might’ve gotten lost during our bonding time.”

She chuckles, but stays a bit behind you before following, she mules on your words. Of saying ‘dad’ and calling it ‘bonding’ time. In FEDRA, they always talked about them all being siblings, but most were just arseholes. But, you’re the first two people who have treated her like a person. Aside from Riley, but she knows how she felt about her isn’t how she feels about either of you - besides, the age difference is just a big no - but she cares about you both. And you’re more open of your care with her. Joel is more through action and small stories.

She follows, after that short moment of contemplation.

With Joel’s vague “I’ve been on both sides” she does lump you in with that as well. Not that she blames you, Joel is the only family you have left. So she gets why you haven’t left his side.

With the whistling, Joel at first thinks you taught it to her, but you say to him that it’s “all her.”

You do smile a bit at it, knowing she now has a trump card against your dad.

You had the puppy dog eyes, Ellie has the whistle.

You swear you hear you dad grumble under his breath about this same idea.

With the hotel, Joel is separated from you both. You just tell her to “stay close” and she does.

She’s panicking, but at least she isn’t alone.

You witness her killing the man who was fighting Joel. You can tell she’s shaken. You try to comfort her, but her anger at Joel makes her ignore it when she snaps at him.

Things are a bit cold for a moment as go through the rest of the hotel. But then he asks her to cover you both.

“How can I do that for both of you?” She asks, a bit worried of letting you guys down.

“We’ll be smart,” Joel assures as you check your ammo, “besides, if anyone’s gonna be caught, it’s gonna be me.”

“Why’s that?” She asks. Joel looks back at you for a moment, and leans closer to Ellie.

“Feeling my age,” he says. She smirks, but doesn’t say anything. She’ll keep that between them.

Joel jumps first, thanking her in his own way for saving him. After she says he’s welcome, she then looks to you, “I meant what I said,” she tells you.

“I know you did. You’ve got this,” you assure, before jumping down yourself.

“I’ve got this,” she says to herself softly, getting in position, “I’ve got this.”

She does. She really does.

You give her a nod when she’s smart with the pistol, pocketing it. You even share some of your ammo with her.

With Henry and Sam, Ellie notices you distancing yourself a little. You are, to be honest, but oddly it’s Henry who catches you out on it.

“Afraid you’ll lose your sister?” He says, as you all wait in his office to go on the night run.

“Guess it’s best to lose her to a friend than the whole permanent thing,” he notices how you: a) don’t correct him; and b) play with your fingers a bit. He nods, seemingly understanding why you’re being a bit distant now.

“I get what you mean,” he decides to say, “I haven’t seen Sam that happy in a while.”

You nod. Then move the conversation on. Which Henry understands.

You find yourself becoming friends with him quite easily. You both bond over your previous lives and the old world.

It seems to maybe be at an end when he ditches Joel, and Ellie joins you both. But he makes a valid point about him wanting his brother safe and how if the tables would be reversed, would it be the same outcome? He came back, after all.

Being split up in the sewers, Ellie is scared truly for the first time, being away from you both at the same time.

She hears gunshots and just hopes it’s both of you. She lets out a massive sigh of relief when she sees that it is, “thank god,” she says.

As you continue your journey, Ellie sees more of this nostalgic side to you; pointing things out for them that they don’t understand, but you, Joel, and Henry, do.

She finds it odd, and feels a bit left out, but there is a life to your eyes as you laugh about whatever the newest nostalgia object or idea was.

“Hey,” she says to you as you both search a house, “we’re ok, right?”

“Yeah,” you say instantly, “course.”

“Ok, good. That’s good.”

“You’re allowed to have friends, Ellie.”

“I know. I know…But, I’m not replacing you or anything —“

“Ellie,” you say, pausing from looking in a cupboard to look to her, “we’re good, I promise.”

“Ok,” she says, “seems you and Henry are tight.”

“Yeah,” you say, “yeah, he’s a good guy. Aside the whole abandoning thing.”

“He was good with me in the sewers,” she says, “he;s a good guy.”

“He is,” you affirm both her and your previous words.

“Do you…like him? I won’t tell anyone.”

“Nah, he’s just a good guy. Besides, was never into any of that myself.”

“Oh. That’s cool.”

“Yep. What about you, you into any of the whole romantic thing?”

Her mouth opens, and the story of her and Riley almost comes out, but she doesn’t say that. Instead, she says, “not with Sam. Or his whole…thing.”

“Gender?” She nods, “Hm. Cool.”

She feels glad she told someone. It’s another one of those bonding moments. There’s more trust now.

Then Henry and Sam die. You’re just frozen. So is she. Joel goes to the youngest, trying to get Ellie out of her state first. It takes a moment, before she is. Then they both look to you. Your hands are shaking, and you’ve curled into a ball at the wall.

“Careful,” Joel says, “Actually, stay here,” she does, but her worried and tear filled eyes stay on you.

She can’t hear what he says to you, but it takes a moment for you to look at him. You then fall into his arms. He holds you as you cry.

You stand up with him, avoiding looking at the bodies of your dead friends as best you can, before you or go over to Ellie.

“Come on,” you say, voice quiet, and wobbly. She takes your hand, and notes how you keep holding it as you leave.

As you near Tommy’s dam, she sees that it’s hurt you. You clean yourself off in a more shallow part of the water. You’re quieter. Not dispondant, but in your own head more. Like with Tess, only this was a death you saw. Joel’s worried too, you haven’t been like this since Sarah. And that quietness lasted for a few years, then turned into anger. He doesn’t want to see you go through that again.

Every so often, when you’re too much in your head or about to miss something like a jump or whatever, she will either call out your name, or put a hand on your arm to bring you back to the present. She hates how you jump at it.

She brings up the toy burial thing with Joel when she knows you won’t hear it. Even though Joel dismisses it, he does give her a ‘thank you’ a bit further ahead.

You both meet Tommy again, and those feelings of being an outsider and abandonment come up again.

She guesses this is how you felt for a moment with Sam and her, though she doesn’t have someone to talk to this time about anything. Maria tries, but it’s not the same.

Joel goes off with Tommy, and you find yourself going to the stables. Maria takes Ellie for some food. You’re all separated.

In the stable, you allow yourself a moment of vulnerability. With one horse, it approaches you and nudges you. You cry, and it comforts you, nuzzling against you. It’s sweet, and you allow yourself to feel the toll of everything. To not hide it anymore.

Maria radios later whoever it is in the stables, asking for you.

Whoever it is, sends a girl, named Dina, to come get you. She’s nice. She reminds you of Ellie a bit. Empathetic.

She tells you where to go. Offers to take you, but you apologise for taking up her time and go find Ellie.

She sees your eyes being red from crying, but doesn’t ask about it. Maria follows that action.

When the attack comes, you’re on instinct mode. And that has protect within there somewhere. You’re brutal. Ellie’s never seen this side full on. It scares her a bit.

“Are you ok?” Joel asks, getting Ellie calm with her rant. She says she is, but then she looks to you in the corner, sat on the table, blood on parts of your face and jacket, and jeans…you’re not caked in it, but there are splatters of blood on pretty much all of you.

“Y/N…they. They protected me.”

Joel hates that this part has come out again, but he finds himself nodding with Ellie, “yeah,” he says, “can you give us a minute?” She nods, moving aside to let him go to you.

“Dad,” you say, instincts on high and your head shoots up to speak to him, “I had to. I had to keep her safe.”

He’s silent for a minute, trying to find the right words. It’s been a while since you’ve had talks like this, time to actually think about his answer, “I know. You did protect her. But, kid, look at you. I don’t want you to lose yourself to that. I don’t want you to…become who I was.”

“Am I a monster?”

“No, no. God no,” he’s quick and sure of that answer, “just…I think this has taken a toll on you more than it has me.”

You smile a small one, he mirrors it, “guess I’m feeling my age too, huh?”

He snorts, “yeah. I don’t think you’re there yet.”

He’s glad he’s done this. And while he knows leaving Ellie will be hard, he knows this is best. You’re both becoming too attached, and he doesn’t want you to go through that pain again.

To make it easier, Joel asks Maria to get you some fresh clothes and have a wash to try make this easier on himself too. She does so, meaning you have no idea Ellie ran away.

Maria’s gentle with you, not out of fear, but because you’re part of her family, and she sees how much this transfer of having Ellie in your life to not is gonna hurt you.

“Thank you,” she says after you’re dressed and leave the room, “for what you did. I’m sorry it came to that.”

“It’s nothing,” you say, waving it off, “thank you for the clothes and the shower. Haven’t had one like those in god knows how long.”

“Don’t know a good thing til it’s gone, huh?” She says.

“Definitely not,” you say, chuckling, before playing with your fingers a bit.

There’s a beat of silence between you both. Not awkward, just a moment of silence.

“You’re welcome to stay, you know,” she says, “you, Joel, and the kid,” she hates lying, but she’d rather spare you that pain, “there’s some empty houses we’ve got.”

You smile, and there’s a sparkle of life to your eyes. There’s hope.

“I’d like that,” you say.

She goes to say something else, when her radio goes off. It’s Tommy, he was wondering if you could come down to the stables, and that Joel and Ellie are wanting to get another horse for you to get where you want to go.

Internally, she’s relieved. Both for her husband not going, but also for that idea of a happy ending being alive still.

She doesn’t think she’s ever seen someone so hopeful for a happy ending. And, knowing about what Joel and you went through, or all least, what Tommy told her about you both, she doesn’t think there’s someone that deserves one more.

Joel and Ellie agree to keep their little fight a secret too, as they too see how happy you are to be together again as a trio.

Ellie rides on Joel’s horse, you ride your own.

You and your dad both try and explain (American) football to Ellie. God help her, she tries to understand it. To be honest, you barely got it yourself.

Still, this is the closest you three have been. And Joel is pretty happy too. You’ve almost reverted back to how you were, but in a more mature way if that makes sense? You’ve got back your hope and openness, just with this more mature mind now using them.

He even opens up about having Sarah and you pretty young. You never asked him about your mother, he was enough as far as you knew. But, he always said your mother loved you, whatever happened to her. So that was enough for you. Not that you and Sarah didn’t theorize.

While waiting for Joel to reappear to open the gate for you both, you mention that Sarah and her would’ve gotten along really well, and she hopes so. She then asks you about being twins, how it's a bit weird. But you explain to her how you and Sarah weren’t always on the same pages. You were different people, just had your own sibling dynamic. Being the same age, and either of you ever sure of who was the oldest by whoever many minutes, just meant you experienced things at the same time.

When Joel mentions the singing, even you beg him, reminding him of when he did for you and Sarah when younger, “You still remember that, kid?”

“Oh boy, do I. You were a real country singer.”

“I was not.”

“Was too.”

“Was not.”

“Was.

“Not.

“Not.”

“Was.”

“Ha! Got you.”

“Damn it,” Ellie chuckles at you both. Selfishly, she hopes you don’t find the firefly’s, and that she can stay with you. She’ll miss you both a ton.

Though, that wish soon turns into reality. And reality is a nightmare.

Joel gets injured. You both get him out, though barely.

Ellie panics, and you revert back to instinct mode. But this time it’s focused.

You find shelter together, and it’s Ellie this time who lets herself be more open, “what do we do?” She asks, voice trembling a bit in both fear and the coldness. It’s winter.

“I don’t know,” you say, voice neutral.

“You don’t know?”

“You want me to say something else?”

“I want for you to have a plan!”

“Well I don’t fucking have one!”

“Then fucking think of one!”

“Like what?!” She shrinks back a small amount, but still holds your gaze, “Hm?! What do you want me to tell you, Ellie? There’s nothing around here! This whole fucking place has been raided! Maybe we’ll get lucky in our next place. A mall, or something. But, right here? Right here, we have nothing!”

You two don’t talk as you move onto a mall.

“Stay here, I’ll go see if there’s anything,” you say to Ellie, getting your pack ready.

“I’ll go,” she says.

“We can’t both go.”

“Then I’ll go.”

“That’s suicide.”

“I can take care of myself, Y/N,” she says, then grabs your hands in hers, “you use your size to your advantage, I can use mine. You’ve taught me a lot. I can do this. Just, trust me, please?”

You don’t like the idea of this. You’re the older one, you’re the one who is meant to do this. But, you also see how Ellie is pleading. You didn’t even think you taught her a lot, but she’s earnest with her words.

You find yourself nodding; and with her assurance that she’ll be “back in a flash,” she’s gone.

She’s not. It’s a bit longer than that. But she stands corrected that she can take care of herself. She even helps you fend off the hunters that had come looking for you.

She’s determined to keep your father alive. You both work on keeping him that way.

You hand her some alcohol before she does the needle work, “to help keep your hands steady.”

She takes it, it doesn’t taste great, but it does the trick.

You find yourself in a town, hiding in the garage part of a house.

You both communicate through things other than words at this point. You both snuggle close to your dad to share body heat. When one goes on a hunt, the other gives a nod of good luck, sometimes a hug.

One time she takes longer than usual, tells you that she met someone else who gave her some medicine. But that they were “fucking creepy.”

Those creeps come by the next day. You’re awake before Ellie this time. Your rushed moment and knocking something over wakes her up, and she’s alert quickly.

“Stay here, I’ll lead them away.”

“That’s stupid!” She tells you, “You’ll die.”

“Only if they catch me. Look,” you say, crouching down and putting your hands on her shoulders, “I’ll be right back, ok?”

“We both will be,” she says, looking to Joel, “you just don’t die, alright? You motherfucker,” she says to him, before getting up.

“You go one way, I’ll go the other?” She nods at the plan, and you both ride out, before splitting up.

You’re both caught, but David tells her you died. When she rips off his finger, she makes sure it hurts to avenge you.

She gets out, and just mutters to herself, “please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead,” as she tries to make her way back to Joel.

She can’t lose anyone else.

She finds a cell, one with a fresh dead member of David’s crew, “that’s what you get, you sick fucks,” she says to herself. Proud. It means you’re alive.

She gets caught again, and finds herself truly terrified for the first time in a while. She knew people could be cruel in this world, but not like this. Not like David.

When she kills David, she lets it all out. All that anger. All that pain.

Joel finds her, and she’s still in fighting instinct, but calms when she sees it’s Joel.

She breaks down in her father’s arms.

She then remembers you, and pulls away, and only croaks out the start of your name before Joel shushes her.

“We’ll find them, baby girl, we’ll find them.”

It doesn’t take long.

They find you wandering out on your own.

Joel calls out your name, and you spin around with a revolver in your hand. You look dazed.

But you blink a few times, and your father and sister don’t disappear.

You barrel into them, and the three of you just hold each other.

Joel kisses you both on the head, before you then do the same to Ellie.

“Oh, Ellie,” you say, crouching down. You put your hands on her face, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” She feels warm in the hug. Safe. Protected.

This is what family is like, she knows it’s true.

It’s people who put their life on the line for each other. And care about each other deeply.

As a family, you leave that horrible town, and onto your final stretch of your journey.

This time, it’s you who pulls Ellie out of her head. Sometimes you call out her name, sometimes you put a hand on her shoulder. Or sometimes, when trying to have banter with her, you ruffle her hair a bit.

She always gives you a small smile, but it doesn’t fool you.

But you also know if you push it, it may push her overboard.

So you just keep near, making sure she eats, and sleeps well.

Most nights, she goes to sleep with you having a protective arm around her, or running your fingers through her hair to calm her down.

You even try and do her hair at one point, it doesn’t go well, but she does give you a ‘thank you’ for the effort.

“Don’t leave,” she says one night, while falling asleep. Joel is long gone for the night, it’s just you both.

“We won’t.”

“But you will, one day.”

“One day, yeah. But that won’t be for a long, long time,” you assure your little sister.

“How do you know?”

“Because, even when I tried to die, it didn’t work.”

“…What?”

“A bit after Sarah. Dad stopped me. It’s what made the mark on my forehead. I missed.”

“I’m glad you did.”

You smile, “yeah, I’m glad I did too.”

She falls asleep, glad to have met you people. Glad to have found a family.

When she almost drowns, you and Joel are panicking. No one is in control of the sitatuion. Your only thoughts are Ellie and making sure she doesn’t die.

You wake up in the hospital. Marlene visits you, and tells you the story she told Joel. But then, over the radio, you hear about Joel breaking out, and Marlene takes you with her, as “collateral,” she says. She does give you an “I’m sorry, kid” but it doesn’t mean anything.

When Joel gets out the elevator, Marlene has a gun to your head and you on your knees.

“This is your kid, Joel. Ellie won’t feeling anything, I promise.”

Joel pauses, and you see him hesitate for a moment.

A gun goes off twice. One with it being held in the air, the other into Marlene’s stomach.

You keep it pointed at her, put Joel then comes back, and holds out his hand, “go check on Ellie.” He knows what the darkness can do to you.

You nod, going to the car and putting her head on your lap.

She wakes up to you, and you smile down at her.

When Joel tells the lie, she looks at you, searching for any sign of bullshit. She does find some, but doesn’t say anything.

The three of yo arrive at Jackson, more alive than ever.

You give her a boost up to Joel when the log falls, then they both help you up. She jokes at you feeling your age one thirty-something when you put a hand to your back.

She then confides in your both about Riley. And swears you both to tell her that what you said was true.

You both do, and try to help her with her guilt over her friends’ deaths.

She knows your lying, but buries it. She knows she has also lied to you at being able to fully keep her innocence. But, that’s just part of growing up, she supposes.

She has you now. A support system. And she doesn’t like the lie. But you two have to each other and her sometimes on the journey, but your care for each other is real. So, she says the only thing she can think of to keep this bond going.

“Ok.”

#last of us x reader #last of us imagine #Ellie Williams x reader #Ellie Williams imagine #Platonic Imagine #Platonic Reader

[fandomnerd9602]

Dina x immune reader who got bitten by a cracker?

Fandom: The Last of Us 2

Please

Dina: you got bitten!

Y/N: it’s not my first time. Don’t worry baby I’ll be fine.

Dina: but what if you pass it to me?

Y/N: well I already gave you some of my blood. So I think your immune too.

Dina: so there’s a cure?!

Y/N: well about eight pints of it. And it’s all yours

Y/N gives a giggling Dina a hug

#last of us #Dina #last of us imagine #dina imagine #Dina x reader #playstation #naughty dog #survivor #survivor reader

[lostgirlfandom]

The Last of Us Masterlist

Joel

Tommy

#last of us imagine #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #tommy miller imagine #gn reader #reader insert #fandom one shot #fandom imagines #masterlist

[gutsby]

Waiting Game

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel Miller has mastered the art of self-control in all areas except one: not fucking his friend’s daughter. A cross-country road trip home from college takes a hard turn when he’s forced to share a motel room with you.

Warnings: 18+. Protected p-in-v. Praise. Overstimulation. Sweet, possessive, slightly obsessive and pussywhipped Joel. Daddy kink. Drug use. Angst. Accidental creampie. Joel fucking you while on the phone with your father.

Part 2 | Part 3

“You okay, hon? You sound…distracted,” your dad presses. A hint of concern rises from his end of the line.

At length, Joel grips both of your legs and brings them up over his shoulders, and he grins before kissing your ankle and shoving his cock even deeper.

“Yes!” you yelp as you crush the phone to your ear, hoping your father can’t hear any of the filthy sounds down below, “Just a little stretched—I mean stressed out, is all.”

Aside from the fact that he smoked like a chimney and bumped far more Billy Joel than any man ever should, Mr. Miller was an A-OK friend—your father’s best friend.

All you needed was a ride home for the holidays.

From the second you’d set foot in his old Ford Bronco, you sensed this trek wouldn’t be an enjoyable one—thirty-hour road trips rarely ever were—but you leaned back in the passenger seat, propped your feet on the dashboard, and bopped along to ‘You May Be Right’ for the fifty-fifth fucking time that morning and smiled.

Joel frowned.

“Dogs off the dash,” he muttered, swatting at your bare, polished toes before you kicked his touch away.

“Shotgun puts her feet up, driver shuts his cakehole.”

That wasn’t even how the saying went. Oh well.

Joel slowed the car to sixty in the right-hand lane and smacked your ankles even harder. You yelped.

“Hey! You can’t hit a woman!”

“I’m not hitting a woman, I’m hitting a little gremlin,” Joel tried not to grin as he delivered another tart slap to your foot, and you almost jerked into the passenger door.

He momentarily righted the car before it went veering into the lane beside it, seized one of your feet, and tried to forcibly shove it off the dashboard, to no avail. As soon as he moved one limb, the other would glide right back up to take its place; Joel’s hands were big, but they weren’t massive enough to grab hold of both of your legs at once and make you stay the fuck there, Christ’s sake.

You liked to see him flustered. Brought a whole new hue to his tough, stubbled cheeks that folks rarely got to see. You squirmed in your seat when he reached for your side.

“Wh—NO! No tickling!” you cried, trying your hardest to roll away.

But the man was nothing if not a lover of cheap shots and filthy antics. He’d never played a clean game in his life and wasn’t about to start now.

His gaze darted from the road to your writhing form, pinned against the door and begging him to stop, while he pressed his foot harder on the gas and smirked.

“Too much?” he teased, “Say pretty, pretty please.”

In other words: give up. You would do no such thing. Your elbow jutted out to the side and clipped his fingertips sharply, and right before he could reach for you again, you were heaving yourself up and leaning almost halfway out the open window, trying to shy away from his touch.

“You fuckin’ nuts?! Get down!” he yelled.

“But it just may be a luuuunatic you’re lookin’ for!” you sang along to your old friend Billy Joel and pretended not to see, or hear, Joel Miller twisting desperately across the center console to take hold of your belt loops.

“Get—I swear to God, kid—DOWN!”

Joel had just managed to finagle a loose, feeble grip on your denim waistband as he tried to keep the car from soaring across three lanes of traffic, was just about to yank you back inside and give you a red-faced, fatherly lecture of a lifetime, when a sound startled you both.

A siren, and a set of flashing blue lights behind you.

You scrambled back in your seat and swallowed a lump in your throat the size of a peach. You turned off Mr. Long Island.

“Great! Good fucking going,” Joel griped beside you as he flicked on his blinker and started to pull off the road.

Dogs no longer on the dash—and a very pissed off cop pulling up behind your car on the shoulder of the road—you got the feeling this would be a long couple of days.

You hadn’t even made it outside the city limits of Boston.

Somewhere between Richmond and Roanoke, the two of you turned off the highway to find a place to sleep.

Joel had sat and stewed and ignored you for the customary duration of about two hours before choosing to re-engage in conversation, but deep down, you knew he was still kind of irked by that reckless driving citation he’d received. You couldn’t help but feel responsible.

Though it had been pretty funny when the state trooper had approached the car and pointedly asked, “What the hell was your daughter doin’ danglin’ outta this thing?!” Joel was nowhere near as amused as you, but he managed to roll with it and told the cop you were just trying to wave to the cows in the fields passing by.

The police officer hadn’t bought it.

He probably would have arrested you both if you hadn’t been such a coquettish flirt and somehow managed to persuade the man to let your ‘dad’ off with just a ticket.

You had hoped that would temper Joel’s anger some, but if anything, the sight only seemed to make him more mad at you. You weren’t sure why.

Presently, you pulled up to Balmaceda’s Mountain Lodge and cast a bleak look at the front office before you.

This looked nothing like the snug, homespun mountain retreat you’d been picturing in your mind. Ahead of your car, there stood a single-story concrete slab of a motel, tilted to one side and consumed almost entirely by the dark of night and wide open wilderness. A big block letter neon sign displaying the owner’s name in red now barely flickered above a muddied, pinkish glow. You groaned.

But before you could complain to your travel companion, Joel was already stepping out of the car and heading toward the main office. Hastily, you followed after.

“No way, Miller. No fucking way are we staying in Murder Motel,” you hissed.

“Bal-ma-ceda’s,” Joel intoned with a maddeningly accurate lilt, ignoring your protests, “I think that’s a Chilean name.”

He swung the door wide for you to enter and pretended not to see you shoot him a glare as you strolled in.

“Needin’ a room?”

The lady behind the counter barely graced your entrance with a look.

“Yes ma’am. Whatever you got,” Joel replied, smiling.

“Smoking or non?”

“Smoking, please.”

Of course he would. You could already feel the fetid stench of American Spirits wafting up to your nostrils.

“King or two Queens?”

“Queens,” you and Joel answered in unison.

At first, the woman nodded, flicked through a rolodex on her desk and nosed through a couple yellowed pages in front of her. Then, frowning, she looked back up.

“Sorry. All the Queens are took up. Rest of the rooms are being fumigated but the one—” she tapped a manicured nail on the motel map, “—and it’s got a King. That okay?”

No. No, it was not. You opened your mouth to speak but were shortly cut off by the woman before you could.

“Of course, if you don’t want dad hoggin’ up all the sheets, there’s a pull-out sofa for him to sleep on.”

The sixty-something desk clerk offered a smile, and you likely would’ve returned the favor if you hadn’t been so deeply nauseated at the thought of everyone around you assuming that Joel was your father. You chanced a look at the man, who seemed equally uncomfortable as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. You sighed.

“Alright.”

Defeated, but marginally pleased that you wouldn’t have to share a bed with your ‘old man’ that night.

Joel paid and signed the papers without another word, or look, to you or the woman. By the looks of it, he just wanted to book the room and get the hell out as fast as possible, his brow pinched inward and lips zipped tight.

He’d turned to leave so quick that he was almost approaching the door when the lady called out,

“Mr. Miller! You forgot your keys.”

You hardly needed to steal a glance in Joel’s direction to see that he was flushed. Even blushing a bit.

You strode over to the counter and intercepted the keys she was dangling for someone to take, then politely, finally, were able to manage a smile and a thank-you.

You turned back to Joel.

“Here you go, Daddy.”

In a blink, the small silver set was pelted in his hands, and the man nearly dropped them—and lost his balance. By some miracle, Joel managed to catch them between his big sweaty palms and step aside just in time for you to saunter past him, straight through the door.

“I’m starved,” you announced, then, averting your face to hide your smug expression and lower your voice a bit, “Feed me, Daddy.”

In that moment, Joel thanked every last one of his lucky stars that his pants were made of denim, and that the denim itself was thick. And that the woman at the front desk was swift to turn her attention back to her tabloid magazine, away from you two, and didn’t look up again.

If they weren’t, and if she hadn’t, it would’ve been plain as day to see that Joel Miller was sporting a hard-on.

A huge, swollen hard-on that made it almost impossible for him to walk and haul luggage and try to keep apace with your steps as you sailed along the gravel drive. So big the man had to will himself not to limp, not to make it known how stiff he was, until he eventually failed at both.

Once you’d grabbed your bags back at the car and made it up to your place, you entered Room 102 with a lightness you hadn’t felt all day. Joel slogged behind with all of the baggage and a boner beneath his jeans that probably could’ve cut sheet metal, if needed.

He was fucked. No doubt he’d have to enlist in the Witness Protection Program after your real father found out that his best friend had gotten visibly bricked up for you, his one and only daughter. How awkward holiday dinners were bound to be from that point on; how humiliating it seemed to him to pop a chub at a thing as dumb as saying ‘daddy’; how batshit insane it was that he hadn’t gotten laid in almost a year, and you were still, somehow, the only one he wanted to break the dry spell.

Joel was better than this. A fucking pro at self-control and all things dirty old guys didn’t do. He could chill out.

He just needed to rub one out in the bathroom, fast.

So, while you flopped down on the bed, Joel dropped every bag and made a beeline for the toilet. Slammed the door so hard he probably could’ve knocked the thing off its hinges, but he didn’t care. He was wrestling his belt, button, and zip off in a second. Then haphazardly turning on the sink to mask the sounds of all that was to come. No pun intended.

He yanked his thick, throbbing, rock-hard member out of its confines and had to hiss through his teeth to keep from moaning. The sensitivity he felt was unbearable, the front of his boxers already painted with pre-cum.

Gingerly, Joel wrapped one hand around his cock and raised the other to anchor himself against the sink. He slid his palm, which he’d just barely lubricated with some spit of his, up and down the shaft and groaned. A welt of pleasure formed in his chest, and he rubbed even faster. And, in spite of his legs feeling a bit like jelly, he stood there and fucked his fist and wished with every bit of himself that it was your warm, lush folds opening around him instead. Stifled a groan and would’ve paid any sum of money to hear your moans spilling out while he thrusted. The act here was more mindless and reflexive than anything else—jerking himself and soaking in the sharp, fiery sensations that shot up through his body.

To him, at least, it was all purely physical. Mechanical.

Nowhere near as euphoric and otherworldly as it would have been with your hand actually curled around him.

Or your lips. Or your tongue. Or your tight, wet cunt.

Fuck, he needed a shower.

Blindly, Joel moved inside the tub to his left and yanked the curtain shut over a space almost two times too small for his frame. He turned on the water and made it hot. Then he fisted his cock again, pressed his head to the shower wall, and pumped himself as fast as his forearm would allow him—trying all the while not to think of you.

You, with all your wily, shrewd ways were still the daughter of the man who guzzled down IPAs with him at the local dive bar every Thursday night over jalapeño poppers and buffalo dip. The man who clapped him over the shoulder and shook his frame with the kind of good-natured sneer that only a best friend could make, ‘A man as suave as you oughta get some tail every now and then. Go find you a gal and fuck her brains out, Joel!’

But the only ‘gal’ Joel wanted to rail was the one who called that man ‘dad’—and just called him ‘daddy’ for the first time that night—and he hated himself for it.

Sparks of pleasure continued to ignite across his lower half as he jerked himself in the shallowest, short pumps. He flicked his hand back and forth, circled the tip with his palm, and felt a groan start to claw at his throat. He tried to picture any face but yours but failed miserably.

All he could think, see, or breathe was you—imagining your lips enveloping the head of his cock, jerking him softly, taking him down to the back of your throat and bobbing that pretty little face up and down his length.

That sweaty, desperate fist of his just wasn’t cutting it.

For the first time, Joel couldn’t make himself cum.

Now even more pent-up and pussywhipped than he’d been when he first started, he slammed his palm against the wall and flung the shower handle in the opposite direction—turning the water as cold as it could get.

Five minutes passed, and the icy spray had scarcely left a dent in his raging erection. Joel stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his hips, and stood in front of the mirror to see that he was still very hard.

Fuck this.

He bunched his strewn aside clothing together and held it over his crotch, discreet as he could, and waddled out.

And, either the temperature inside had just jumped fifty degrees or the world outside had just caught fire, but Joel’s face was flooded with heat the second he exited.

You were sprawled across the bed wearing nothing but a thin white tank, shorts, and fuzzy socks—and a scowl.

“Sofa’s broke,” you said.

Joel blinked.

“Broke?”

You nodded toward the busted sleeper couch at the far end of the room, torn to pieces and kicked a half-dozen times since you’d tried unfolding it in Joel’s absence.

The jaws of the old steel frame had simply refused to give way, and now the sofa was so out of sorts and misshapen that you had no hope of putting it back the way that it was. You sank further in the bed and pointed to the floor.

“You can sleep there.”

Joel eyed a flat sheet and a pillow laid across the carpet, visibly coated in dust and grime. He turned back to you.

“You’re smokin’ crack if you think I’m doin’ that.”

“Be grateful I’m not making you sleep in the car, daddy.”

Again with that fucking name. Joel tightened his grip on the clothes he was holding over his dick and tried to fight a thousand dirty thoughts threatening to seep back into his head.

Unfortunately, the dirty thoughts had hands—and were beating his ass to a bloody pulp when he first caught sight of your nipples poking up through your shirt. Just when the man might have started to drool or else begun humping that pile of clothes, you snapped your fingers.

“Miller Lite. Eyes up here.”

Fuck.

“Got a…stain on your shirt,” he grumbled in his defense.

“Shut up. Now, we can flip for the bed if you want.”

By turns, Joel’s focus was slowly coming back, and the man was trying like hell to find a place on your face that didn’t arouse him to no end—to help ease the intrusive thoughts and all. So far his search had yielded nothing.

“Like, uh…coin?” he asked. Endearingly stupid.

“Heads, I win,” you said, nodding, “Tails…”

Joel swallowed.

“Tails, what?”

“Tails, you tell me what was going on in your head when you were jacking off to the thought of me just now.”

Your words came out in a hurry, almost too quick for Joel to comprehend. He still heard them, though, and nearly choked on his spit when he tried to swallow again.

“I wasn’t—”

“You were,” you bit back, “I heard you moan my name.”

Joel didn’t remember that. Joel didn’t remember much of anything that had taken place in that bathroom apart from being implacably horny and unable to bust a nut. You stepped off the bed to stand in front of him.

“What? Cat got your tongue all of a sudden?” you sneered, “Think I’m just gonna run off and tell my da—”

“Don’t,” Joel’s response was immediate, insistent. Then, setting his jaw in a way you knew too well, contemplating about fifty different thoughts in the span of two seconds, he pressed the clothes pile to his crotch even tighter and sighed, “Don’t…do that, please. I’ll take the floor.”

You raised both brows, mildly amused.

“I said we could flip for it. C’mon,” you said.

“Ain’t got any coins.” Joel was already retreating to his makeshift sleeping pad on the floor, eyeing the shag carpet for any traces of blood, piss, or rodent droppings. Before he made it too far, you reached for his arm.

Joel tensed under your touch.

“We can try something else.” Your voice was cloying, almost too sweet to be trusted.

It had just dawned on you then how bare the man standing before you was. Clad in only his towel, every taut, toned inch of Joel’s body was there on display—coated with sweat and a fine sheen from the shower, his skin practically shone in the glow of the bedside lamp. You watched him shift in place and saw the towel around his hips stir along with it. He never let those old clothes in his hands move an inch away from his groin, though.

“What game?” he asked.

“Something my roommates showed me,” you began, “‘Too Hot.’”

“Too Hot?”

“You heard me.”

“What, like— like Spin the Bottle, or some bullshit?”

Joel could just picture it: a gaggle of your college pals huddled around an old, empty bottle of Bud Light as you watched it turn circles again, and again, and again on the dorm’s linoleum floor. You tugging at the sleeve of some oversized man-child from a frat Joel couldn’t name, leaning in and beaming like the insatiable flirt he knew you to be, asking that boy if he wanted to sneak off somewhere and let his tongue take a tour of your mouth.

The thought made Joel’s stomach turn.

Presently, you wrinkled your nose up at him.

“Spin the Bottle? That’s rookie shit,” you made another face reminding Joel, once more, how little he knew of the life you lived 1,900 miles away from Austin, at college.

He still couldn’t shake the thought of those boys.

“No, Joel,” you shook your head, drawing your syllables out for effect, “‘Too Hot’ is just…edging your opponent.”

Joel’s throat tightened, and he tried not to let his eyes widen too much, but he was almost certain they had. Before he even knew the words he was saying, the thought of your father taking his fist—or a shotgun—to his face made him blurt out in response, stammering,

“We can’t— I can’t— can’t lay one finger on you, darlin’, you know that. Your dad would murder me.”

To his surprise, the smile on your face only widened.

“Bingo,” You stuck one pretty finger in his face like he’d made the world’s finest discovery, “You can’t touch me.”

“Huh?”

“That’s the whole fuckin’ game, Miller. We can kiss, but we can’t touch each other with our hands. First one to crack and grope the other player loses the game.”

Your expression now was something just shy of sadistic. Watching him with keen, narrowed eyes and a wicked little grin, it seemed you were half-expecting him to fold on the spot. No way was this a game your college friends taught you; you just wanted to play him. Make him lose.

And Joel was a man who couldn’t stand to lose, no matter the stakes.

You watched that failure-averse glint eclipse every shade of lust in his eyes, at least momentarily. Suddenly, Joel didn’t look so fearful of your father’s wrath or what lurid implications this night might bring—he just had to win.

“You suck, you know that?” he said, at last, dropping his makeshift shield from the front of his towel and knocking you flat on the bed with a single push.

“You wish I would,” you grumbled, heart still jumping up in your ribcage all the same. You scooted back.

“I bet you will.”

The man was a menace when he had the will to be.

At length, Joel crawled over your body and made room for himself snug between your legs. The bulge that he’d been trying to hide all this time was now heavy on your center, pressed tight to your stupid-thin shorts and the panties you’d conveniently forgotten to wear. He grinned.

“Are tongues allowed?” he hummed.

“Everything but hands,” you shrugged.

Try as you might to play it cool with him, though, every fibre of your being was alight with desire for the man on top of you. You flitted a look between his soft brown eyes and slightly parted lips and could’ve melted in that bed had Joel not lowered his head and dove right in for it.

His mouth was far gentler than expected. Reverent, even. He slotted his lips between your own and made a fine, delicate showing of just how tender and adept he could be while imparting his slow, sweet kisses. Skirted his tongue across your bottom lip before driving it inside, coaxed your mouth open to him in a matter of seconds. He was graceful. And patient. And lithe with that tongue.

Joel Miller was showing off for you—the bastard.

“Sweet little thing,” he groaned against your mouth, “Ain’t felt a tongue this shy on mine in a long time.”

Of course he’d try taunting you, too. Same old Joel.

“What’s it been? Two years since a woman let you touch her?”

“Twenty since I felt one this good.”

You would’ve liked to reach around the back of his head and seize a clump of that thick, dark, grey-speckled hair. But you couldn’t. Your hands remained plastered to the duvet beneath you, and then, just slightly, your fingers started to curl inward. Joel’s palms laid flat on either side of your head.

It felt weird; mashing lips, teeth, and tongue with a man who’d been alive about twenty years longer than you and went further back with your father than you could even remember. What felt even stranger was the fact that you couldn’t touch him, or take him between your two hands.

Joel’s tongue continued roaming every contour and crevice of your mouth like he had an ache for this taste that he just couldn’t quench. Your tongue tried keeping up, too, but frankly, you were too preoccupied by a pulse between your legs—your parts and Joel’s practically throbbing in time with one another—to work just as hard.

Even through the towel, he felt huge.

You whined when Joel started to grind up against you, and shortly, those fingers of yours that had just been grazing the sheets before were gripping them. Tight.

“Earlier…” Joel murmured between kisses, hips working a vicious pace against you, “You said you were hungry.”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry—starved,” he corrected himself, and you almost could’ve smacked him for being so smug about it.

“What’s your point, Miller?” You were fisting the sheets beneath your palms and gyrating your whole body to meet the motions of the man currently dry-humping you.

All of a sudden, Joel’s movements stopped.

He peered down at you with a curious look.

“I could go for something to eat, too,” he declared.

You blinked. Stared. And just when you’d opened your mouth to say, well, maybe you should’ve grabbed us a bite to eat when we passed that Burger King on the way in, dipshit, Joel’s torso started to move down your own. Slow and painstaking as ever as he made sure not to graze one inch of your skin with his hands while he did.

You leapt back against the headboard, almost cracking your skull on the wood.

“Joel— Joel,” you hissed as the heels of your feet dug into the mattress below, and Joel just sank even further.

Then he was slowly, scrupulously pinching the fabric of your shorts between each index finger and thumb, gaze trained close on your lower half to make sure he never touched you, and he started pulling it down.

“This isn’t—” you started again, only to be offered a soft shush and an even quieter rustle of the cotton material sliding down both your legs.

You dropped your head on a pillow and probably could’ve burned a hole in the ceiling with the wide-eyed look you fixed on one spot, in utter disbelief of what he was doing.

“No panties, huh?” Joel observed. Gentle puffs of his breath were now fanning across the whole bare expanse of your lower half, and your pyjama bottoms were shortly discarded. His face was just hovering there, and you could tell that he knew you knew by the way he lowered his voice and brought his head to have only the tips of his chin stubble grazing your abdomen, “You needed this.”

Some lone remnant of ire flashed in your eyes.

“I don’t need shit from you, Miller. You need me. And you’re gonna lose this.”

Even though your gaze was still trained to the ceiling, you could feel him grin against your delicate skin.

“Hey,” he mumbled, “You said tongues are fair game.”

Fuck me, you wanted to keen the second his lips made contact with your…lower ones, and Joel swiftly got to kissing you there just as he’d done to you above. Hot, soft, and tender as the first rays of morning sun heralding a new day, he sponged his lips across the seam of your heat and made as if to massage the place, gently.

You could hear as well as you could feel that effusion of desire leaking out of your cunt and pooling around the man’s mouth. How eager he was to lap it up with his tongue, to grace your ears with those delectable squelching sounds, he caressed every inch between your folds and only sank deeper when you whined above him.

“Joel.”

Right now you couldn’t look down. Not with the way your legs were already trembling around his head, your chest heaving with the fastest, most frenzied breaths. You’d sooner die before you watched him unravel you like this.

“Darlin’, you’ve got a man soaked.” Some sound almost resembling a chuckle reverberated between your thighs and sent a brand new shockwave of pleasure in its wake, “You like it when daddy uses his mouth on this needy, wet cunt, don’t you?”

Yes, yes, you did. But your answer was nonverbal: a sharp curl of your toes and a grip between your fingers so tight across the sheets that he saw you veritably could’ve torn the linens in two.

Neither of you had laid a hand on the other.

Joel was perfectly content to make do with his mouth for now.

“Got those sheets all balled up, you’re fixin’ to rip ‘em.”

“My tongue make ya feel that good, honey?”

“Poor thing can’t even breathe it feels so nice, right?”

So he’d seen you hiccup, try to steady your breaths, and fail before succumbing to a string of lewd moans. Joel saw you, and knew how you felt, as if he’d had his own secret gauge for how good his mouth was doing you in.

Surely, he could’ve sensed the words before they ever came out of your mouth.

“Touch me, Joel, please.”

His tongue was just then making a lazy circuit around your clit, mouth saturated in your juices, when he smiled.

“Nah.”

Curt and cruel as ever. Then:

“No matter how fuckin’ perfect this pussy is, I ain’t losin’.”

He completed the arc with his tongue and took your bud between his lips, sucking in. You almost screamed.

“Motherfucker.”

“Miller, baby, Miller. Close, though.”

And just when you thought he’d had his fill of cheeky games, Joel sucked your clit even harder and flicked the tip of his tongue against your bundle of nerves until you were writhing, crying on the bed above him,

“JoelbabypleasebabyfuckmefuckohfuckitfeelsoGOOD.”

It was a bit tough to decipher through your strangled, desperate moans, but Joel got the picture. Heeding your requests, he kept at that pace above your clit and slid his tongue back and forth, over and over, lapping up your honeyed glaze like it was the finest thing he’d tasted. Scruff harsh against your thighs, lips soft in a perfect suction, Joel Miller had your head swimming in desire and your better judgment dissipating before your eyes.

At the first sign of bliss, your muscles clenched, and the last linchpin of your resolve crumbled right along with it.

You carded your hands through Joel’s hair and grabbed hold of those locks with a full-throated moan, using his head for shameless leverage to buck and rut your hips into his face as you rode out the peaks of your high.

And, ever the gentleman, Joel fought like hell to keep his lips and tongue connected to your core while you writhed above him—this time at liberty to work his arms under your thighs and hold them since you’d given up the game. He would’ve smiled if he weren’t so narrowly preoccupied, seeing you thrash about and moan out loud and fuck his face like it was the last thing tethering you to earth. He liked seeing you come undone beneath him.

A bit too much, if he were being completely honest.

While you made the languid descent from ecstasy and your breaths were still slowing in your chest on the bed, Joel was back on his feet. Padding toward the bathroom door, slamming it shut behind him as he had before. When he returned in a minute or two, he was clothed. He fished for his keys in the pockets of his snug, stonewash Wranglers and made a face. He didn’t look at you.

“I’ll be back,” he said, starting toward the door.

“Back?” You sat up, perplexed, “The hell ya goin’?”

“Out.”

This motherfucker.

“Did I miss something? Were we not just seconds away from getting down to some how’s-your-father?”

Joel visibly grimaced at your choice of sex slang. Under the circumstances, you would concede it wasn’t ideal.

“O-kay, sorry,” you returned, crossing your legs out in front of you, “I mean…don’t you want me to get you off?”

Again, Joel’s expression twisted into something just shy of overwrought, weary, and repulsed—a look that you couldn’t begin to understand, for the life of you—and you watched him flit his eyes from the bed to the door, again and again, seeming to be pining for the sweet release of leaving your shared motel room as soon as possible.

You’d been with your fair share of emotionally avoidant fucksticks, but most of them didn’t ghost until after they’d gotten their nut and felt no reason to stick around. Joel’s exit seemed premature. Strange.

“So you don’t want to fuck?” you asked, deadpan. You’d never been one for beating around the bush.

“Can’t,” Joel shook his head, bringing one hand to rest on his hip while the other fiddled uncomfortably with his car keys, “Your dad…that’s just— that’s crossing a line.”

“And being nose-deep in my cunt isn’t?”

You stared him down, incredulous.

So now he decides to claim the moral high ground, after coaxing you to soak every inch of his beard and cum all over his tongue? How very fucking charitable of him.

“That’s different,” Joel retorted, rubbing his knuckles in a nervous tic, “That was a game. I won. We’re done.”

You set your jaw just tight enough to keep your tongue in check and refrained from firing off a brash, unsavory remark. It wouldn’t do either of you a lick of good.

You let him leave. Joel had told you that you could keep the bed, he didn’t mind, and then he slipped out the door without another word. Leaving you cold and alone on the soiled, tawdry floral bedspread of Room 102, wondering what the hell had gone so wrong in the span of the last five minutes. From the center of the bed, you could see Joel’s Bronco pull off into the silent, frigid night.

You were still hungry as shit.

Rolling onto your side and rummaging through the bags at the end of the bed, you found nothing even remotely edible—save for, literally, one of Joel’s brownie edibles—and you groaned out loud. You threw your shorts back on, stepped into your old Luccheses, and did a quick circuit around the room to find your jacket before you left. As it turned out, you’d forgotten it back in Joel’s car.

You dropped to your knees and went back to tearing through luggage, searching for some suitable outerwear.

By the end of that second suitcase foray, though, you found you had nothing of your own that was hefty enough to brave the below-freezing temperatures outside, so you had to settle on a dark brown, fleece-lined coat from Joel’s bag. It was durable enough but about four sizes too big—and reeked of cigarette smoke.

You trudged outside, not really knowing where you were going or what you were hoping to find. Your stomach growled, and a few cool gusts of wind came to lap at the bare skin of your thighs where Joel’s spit was still drying.

You stepped a few feet out and turned toward the road.

Bal-ma-ceda’s, you read the seedy neon sign and heard Joel’s enunciation of the name ring between your ears.

What you wouldn’t give for the greasiest, girthiest, barely-FDA-approved 7-Eleven corndog to kill your thoughts about that sleazy little fucker right now.

You started toward the convenience store across the street but quickly found that it was closed—along with every other establishment on that stretch of road. You glanced toward the front office and caught a glimpse of your old friend dozing behind the counter. The speakers outside were playing a tinny rendition of ‘Piano Man.’

Just as you tried not to barf in your mouth at the sound and silently primed yourself for a long, long trek through the boonies to the nearest gas station, you stopped.

In a compact little breezeway that cleaved the motel in two, you saw light pool around an old vending machine.

You almost fell over yourself trying to get to it.

Never mind the fact that there were about half a dozen ragtag teens decked out in camouflage and comically tattered denim cutoffs crowding the area. All absently smoking and blowing o’s, or else sipping on cans of beer in the cramped, concrete passage, they looked bored. A couple lazy smiles broke out upon seeing your approach.

You nodded back and sidled up to the snack dispenser.

Then you zeroed in on the first sugar-packed products you could find: a pack of sour gummy worms and a bottle of Sprite—no, Mountain Dew—and a chocolate bar. Maybe a bag of Cheetos or Fritos thrown in for good measure. All of the snacks were probably stale as shit and hadn’t seen a replacement since dinosaurs roamed the earth, but you didn’t care. You were prying singles out of your wallet and salivating before you could think.

“Gotta kick it a couple times ‘fore it’ll spit anything out,” one of the boys lounging around you piped up.

You’d just inserted a couple bills and were waiting for the machine to dispense your gummy worms, when the thing appeared to stall. Stuck in its tracks, like he’d said.

You raised a brow and tapped the toe of your boot to the appliance, turning toward the one who’d addressed you,

“Like this?”

“Nope. Nuh-uh.” The redhead got up and strode over, where his much bigger, square-toed boot delivered a kick to the vending machine that almost toppled it.

A bag of Trolli Sour Brite Crawlers dropped out.

The kid—who actually happened to be nineteen years old and a student at some college a few states away, along with his whole group of friends—was kind enough to repeat the same ritual for all of your treats. You’d just gathered your stuff together and were about to thank him for his services, when the guy presently stuck a hand in your direction and introduced himself as Connor.

Then Blake. Then Micah. Then Wyatt. Then Trent. All traveling with their team for a tournament that weekend.

Then a beer was held out to you. You declined. A little homemade deer jerky? No, thanks. How ‘bout some Oreos? I’m good on snacks, really. Well, shit, you seem a little high-strung, why don’t you take a hit right here? And Connor pulled his dab pen out from his pocket.

Well.

You hadn’t smoked in a minute. You might’ve decided to take a bite out of Joel’s brownie back in the room, but you hadn’t known how strong it was—or where the fuck he’d gotten it. The pen this stranger was offering you was one that looked similar enough to the kinds you’d seen passed among your friends a hundred times before that you felt comfortable taking one hit, maybe. Two max.

You felt stupid as soon as you’d sucked in every breath, but you ended up taking four hits in total.

You hacked and sputtered and blinked up at Connor, who was grinning big.

“Alright, hardass,” he chuckled, taking back the device.

“Daddy know you smoke?” Wyatt cut in with a sneer.

Daddy?

There was no fucking way Joel looked that old for everyone to think he was your father. You inwardly cringed.

“Y’all been spying on us?”

“Ain’t shit else to do around here.” That was Blake.

You tried to swallow but found your throat much drier than it had been before. And not just from the weed.

“He doesn’t care,” you said, managing a shrug.

It wasn’t entirely false. Joel did give no fucks about you.

“Dude looks like a— a fuckin’ DEA agent or something,” Micah said, amused.

“Like that guy from Narcos,” Trent snickered.

You’d never seen the show and didn’t particularly care to know what law enforcement archetype Joel appeared to embody—in fact, you didn’t want to discuss him at all.

Just as the first fuzzy beads of warmth began to roll into your head, you were already planning your exit strategy. Thank Connor for his selfless assistance and cannabis, bid the group a good night and the best of luck in their upcoming lax tournament, and be done with this shit, ASAP. You were still trying to steady your tongue in the bone-dry cavern that had become your mouth when one of them kicked at a near-empty case of beer at their feet.

“We’re about out.” Micah announced.

Seconds later, Connor was turning to you.

“Wanna…restock in our room?” he asked, the corners of his lips twisting into a smile as he looked down at you.

You crinkled your nose and shook your head. Connor leaned his whole weight against the vending machine between you, seeming unconvinced by your answer.

“I don’t believe you,” he said, “I think you wanna come.”

“Do I?”

You only entertained the backtalk because your brain was currently swimming in a far-off, pleasant void of contentment and indifference. Every sharp edge dulled in your mind, to an extent, and your body at ease. You didn’t have to be home to anyone, anytime, and Joel was probably halfway plastered at a dive bar down the road. You didn’t move back when Connor stepped forward.

He wasn’t even that close. You could leave whenever you pleased.

“For sure. I think you’d enjoy our shitty beer and even shittier company. We can smoke some more, too.”

The man certainly had a way with words. He muscled in a bit closer.

“You think so?” you hummed.

“I do. I really do.”

“And you’re willing to risk the wrath of my dad if he finds out where I am?” You made it sound like a challenge.

“Wyatt can fight.”

Connor motioned toward his friend, who was mindlessly chomping on deer jerky in his lawn chair off to the side, glossy-eyed and hammered. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Okay, but make sure he’s ready. I can only stay for five.”

Connor seemed wounded as he put a hand over his heart in mock dismay.

“Only five minutes?” he griped, “Why not ten? Or twenty?”

“Six.”

“Fifteen at least.”

You folded your arms over your chest and felt an opaque haze beginning to settle over your brain. It wasn’t quite a high, just a lightness of being that drove tender little streaks up your spine. Like Joel, tickling at your sides while you writhed around in the front seat of his car.

This time you took the beer Connor offered and cracked it open. He seemed pleased—and taken by surprise—to see you down the drink in spite of the overflowing foam.

“Ten,” you returned once you’d swallowed it all.

“Twenty.”

“Honey?”

The last voice didn’t belong to anyone in the group. You turned on your heels and almost coughed up your beer.

It was Joel, of course.

Standing at the threshold of the breezeway like a surly, disconcerted parent, of all things, watching you like he’d just caught you red-handed in the most horrific of acts.

Clutched in one hand was a Burger King takeout bag.

“Daddy. Hi,” you breathed.

Apparently your attempt at casual came across more slurred than anything else, because Joel stepped closer.

‘Let’s go’ was all he said. No accusations, no threats, no outward displays of emotion found anywhere on his face. Just a gruff ‘Let’s go,’ and a free hand reaching for yours.

Instinctively, you recoiled.

“We’re just talking,” you said, gesturing behind you. If you could have seen the uniform looks of discomfort and agita, damn near treading on fear, among them all, you probably wouldn’t have bothered.

“Good. Now you’re leaving,” Joel supplied in a moment.

He was blissfully indifferent. Asserting his will in a space where, less than one hour ago, he couldn’t bear to share a room with you, much less impart a shred of dignity or care to your condition. He had nerve, that was for sure.

“I’m not leaving,” you said, a touch more venom in your voice than you intended.

Joel raised both eyebrows.

“No?”

His expression, directed to you, was infuriating.

“Fuck no,” you answered.

A few of the guys behind you sucked in a breath as if to say, ‘Okaaaaay, time to go!’ but then Joel pressed,

“For someone who wants to be treated like an adult—”

“Adult?” you scoffed, “You treat me plenty like an adult, Joel. Just whenever the designation suits your needs, huh?”

No one moved.

Well, Joel flinched a bit. Then he squeezed your wrist.

Truly, you never failed to underestimate the man’s brute strength when it came to carrying you off at will—but there you were, being yanked behind the big, bad Joel Miller as he hauled you off to who-knows-where. You scowled but didn’t bother to steal a glance behind you at the beer, boys, or vending machine treats you were being forced to abandon. All you could do was stare a hole through Joel’s skull and tug back—largely ineffectually.

“You’re an ass,” you spat, digging your heels into the gravel terrain as he pulled you along.

“You’re a brat,” he fired back.

In a minute, the exterior of Room 102 was coming into view; Joel was practically toting your ass like a knapsack.

“You just abandoned me back here, Miller. You— you don’t get to pretend like you give a fuck now.”

“I was getting you Burger King, for Christ’s sake.”

Joel was fiddling with the lock now. Simultaneously juggling your hand, the paper bag, and a set of keys that didn’t seem keen on cooperating, he huffed, disgruntled.

“Even got you those—” Joel grunted, thrusting his shoulder into the door, “—fuckin’ curly fries you wanted.”

Your jaw slackened. That was supposed to make it okay?

“Joel, FUCK your curly fries!” you cried, “Are you seriously still trying to play good guy right now?”

“If that’s what you—”

“No. You don’t get to tonguefuck your friend’s daughter and buy her a goddamn Double Whopper and act like it’s all good. Sure as hell don’t get to dictate who I talk to.”

Like he had before, Joel cringed to hear your crude language—particularly as it related to what he had done to you but didn’t seem capable of owning up to just yet. You couldn’t bear another second of that look.

“Fuck this. I’m sleeping in the car,” you grumbled.

You thrashed your arm out of Joel’s hold and started off in the other direction. Picked up your pace when you heard the bag of fast food drop to the ground and Joel trotting after you. Calling your name.

Even at your most brisk, you knew you couldn’t outstrip those big, beefy legs of his. He gained on you in seconds.

So you took off running.

Joel gripped his side, thinking, ‘Aw, hell’ before breaking out in a sprint just as fast.

You were pissed at how far he’d parked this time around. You caught sight of the old Bronco perched a ways away from your room and almost opted to change course on the spot, to the front office—maybe dive behind the counter and beg that poor old woman to give you another place to stay—but you kept at it, anyway. For once, you were glad to have had Joel beat by so many years, because the man’s endurance was, evidently, shit.

“Hey, s— stop!” Joel shouted after you.

Fat chance, Miller.

You closed in on the car. Joel rarely ever locked it.

Your hand secured a grip on the door and jerked it back. It swung right open.

Just as Joel was pulling up the rear, you had the driver’s side slammed shut and your palm laid flat on the door lock knob—shoving the little black lever down each time Joel tried to unlock the car.

It was a fruitless endeavor, you knew; you couldn’t keep the man out all night so long as he had the car keys in his hands. You could piss him off some more, though.

“You won the fucking game, just take the bed!” you said, straining against the door with your weight pressed hard on that knob. Joel was furiously working to get it open.

“I mean it, Joel, I-I don’t wanna sleep in there wi— shit.”

You leapt back in your seat as Joel flung the door wide open. You scrambled across the center console, made a desperate grasp at the passenger door to climb out the other side, but your ankle was taken between two hands. Just as you tried to slink out on the opposite end of the vehicle, Joel pulled you right back in. Flipped the center console up so you were sprawled flat across the bucket seat at the front of his car and pinned underneath him.

Then he pulled you over his lap.

Not into it—nestled on top of his crotch, with your ass pointing up in the air. Joel’s big ass Carhartt jacket was bunching up around your torso, collar crowding you up to the chin. Your twisted just far enough to meet his gaze.

“What do you want from me?” Joel demanded, “What?”

You stared up at him, poring over your options in the span of what seemed like two milliseconds. Wondering, silently, why he wasn’t touching you anywhere.

“I want you to fuck me, Joel,” you replied at length.

Seated between driver’s side and shotgun, Joel looked perfectly unperturbed, raking a hand through his silver-flecked hair and letting his gaze trail up to the ceiling, as if considering something of grave importance.

“And what after that?” he asked, still staring at the roof.

Before you could reply, though, he was forging ahead,

“What happens when I can’t even look your dad in the eye knowin’ I’ve been balls deep in his little girl, and every fuckin’ time I’m over at your house or you’re over at mine, I’ll be thinkin’— no, dreamin’ of what it was like to have you wrapped around my cock, screamin’ my name and takin’ it so deep inside you like I know ya want it?”

You paused a beat. Had to bat your eyes a couple times to rid your head of those filthy thoughts he’d planted.

“We could, uh— fuck…then…too,” you ventured quietly.

Joel grinned at the spot he was watching, humorless.

“That easy, huh?” he mumbled.

Again, before you could speak, Joel continued,

“I can’t even cum with you on my mind,” he said, and for a split second you thought that might mean he wasn’t attracted to you in that way, when he swallowed hard and closed his eyes, “I’ve tried beating off twice today—in the bathroom and as soon as I left earlier—and I can’t…even get close with you here. You fuck with my head.”

You fuck with my head.

Without meaning to, your hips stirred over his, and Joel audibly groaned. At last, he dropped a palm to your ass and gave it a taut smack, and your whole lower half reverberated with the sensation—and a welt of pleasure.

“You think I want it to be like this?” Joel said, voice strained, fingers kneading over the flesh he’d just struck, “Think I enjoy havin’ the biggest set’a fuckin’ blue balls known to man whenever I’m around ya, honey?”

You winced when you were spanked again, letting out a whimper into the seat’s charcoal-colored upholstery.

“I can help with that,” you hissed, feeling him massage the spot once more. You arched your back into his touch.

“No. You’d make it worse,” Joel shook his head, “Once I get a feel inside this sweet cunt I’ll never wanna stop.”

At the soft rumble of his words, you felt yourself growing aroused. Noticeably so. Your skin broke out in broad swaths of gooseflesh every place he touched, and in the wake of those hands grew a pool of dull warmth. Sticky, slick, soak-straight-through-your-shorts sort of warmth.

Joel’s hand hovered about an inch from the source.

“We’d get bored eventually. It’d be fine,” you said, words crawling off of your parched tongue with some difficulty now. That faint, heady feeling from before had become a high, finally, and it seemed every sense you possessed was ablaze with desire. You were barely able to breathe, much less speak, but there you went, rambling anyway,

“Soon enough, you’ll get over the thrill of screwing me, and I’ll find a nice, polite, age-appropriate boy to spend the rest of my life having nice, polite sex with, and we can both pretend like this never happened. Deal?”

It was quite possibly the dumbest offer you’d ever made.

Joel slotted his hand between your legs to rub against that dampened patch of fabric. You almost jumped.

“Yeah? Just fuck around and forget about it?” Joel spoke, and you truly couldn’t tell if it was a sneer or real sincerity, as your eyes were squeezing shut, “Is that all you want from me, sugar?”

His fingers slipped beneath your shorts and made swift, easy contact with your heat. You buried your face in the seat and tried to muffle the sounds that were clawing their way out of your chest, while your hips tilted up.

“Please, Joel,” you whimpered.

By now, your head was spinning, in a daze, that you almost didn’t notice him tug your shorts down your legs. Or take them off at your ankles. You did get a sense of when he was breaching your folds—taking two, meaty fingers and trailing them up the slick glaze of your cunt.

“Doesn’t seem like this pussy wants ‘nice and polite’ to me,” Joel murmured, eyes gradually fastening to that lovely, exposed spot pointed up to him. He wet his lips, “Needs somethin’ else, doesn’t she, darlin’?”

Speaking of your pussy in third-person wasn’t something you ever thought could be hot, but coming from Joel? While his fingers traced up and down the seal of your entrance, tips circling your tight, hot, throbbing hole? Arousing didn’t even begin to cover it.

You pushed your ass back, and Joel chuckled above you.

“Wanna fuck daddy’s fingers? Is that it?” he taunted.

No, no, no—you wanted his cock buried inside you. But now you just needed reprieve from that ache, and your senses were practically on the fritz trying to get it.

Your hips rocked back and forth over his fingers—sliding the two digits in and out of your cunt with each motion—and, as much as Joel would’ve liked to make you beg and wait a little, your desperate pleas as you fucked his hand were more than enough to satiate him. He worked his free arm under your body and pinched hard on one nipple, eliciting a soft moan of ‘Joel’ underneath him.

“Oh, baby,” he breathed, watching you rut your hips for more friction, “That’s it, baby, fuck daddy’s fingers. Use my hand to make yourself feel good— that’s my girl.”

At the last, you probably could’ve cum on the spot, and Joel could tell by the way you clenched around him. He nudged a third finger between your plush, sensitive walls and heard your moans take on an even higher pitch.

“Hurts,” you whimpered, with no real indication of pain. You just felt stretched out, stuffed, and aching again. The only ‘hurt’ was not having even more of him in you, “Need more of you daddy, please. It hurts.”

Joel wanted to see you cum on his fingers. He really did. But when you got down to begging and pleading for his cock like that, the man’s whole heartbeat throbbed in his jeans, and he simply didn’t possess the resolve to refuse.

He hoisted you upright in his lap so you were straddling his hips. The fabric of his jacket hung loose off your frame and both of your arms as you latched around him.

“Are you high?” Joel asked, voice evening out all of a sudden to pin you with a serious look.

“Yeah.”

“How high?”

“I can consent, Joel.” Your thighs tightened around his sides, and your hips had already begun to stir.

“Not just can consent—do consent. Do you want this?” Joel’s hands moved from the small of your back to cup your face. You gave him a squished-together pout.

“Yes, I want this,” you managed through pinched cheeks. When Joel released you, you lowered your own hands to the buckle of his belt.

It felt foreign and familiar at once—this age-old ritual of fumbling for each other’s clothes and wrestling to get them off, like your bodies might catch fire if you didn’t act fast enough. Joel was a tad more graceful as he shrugged his jacket off of you, peeled your tank top off, and helped you maneuver your bare limbs around him. You, on the other hand, felt half-feral and every bit the wide-eyed novice while you stripped his body garment by garment and wordlessly told him just leave the jeans, I can’t wait another fucking second. Joel bit back a grin and had to steady you above him, feeling his cock twitch against his tummy but still slowing down enough to remind you, shhh, shhh, honey, it ain’t goin’ nowhere.

You had a tough time remembering that as you rubbed your wet centre over his shaft. Feeling so good you feared the feeling might escape any second, you whined.

“I know, baby, I know,” Joel cooed as your head fell in the crook of his neck, “Still hurtin’ somethin’ awful, hm?”

The tip of his cock just barely grazed over your clit and you buried your face even deeper, nodding furiously; Joel leaned forward to grab some item out of the glove compartment behind you and braced your body to him.

He tore something with his teeth. You craned your neck just slightly.

“Don’t laugh,” Joel muttered, voice momentarily stifled by bright, metallic wrapping.

“Is that…” You straightened up enough to cock a brow at him. Joel’s tongue rolled across the inside of his cheek.

“Cobwebs and all.”

Beneath your gaze was the flimsiest, dust-ridden, damn-near vintage condom—a decade old, at least.

“You buy that before or after the Great Depression?” you teased.

“Shut up.” Joel was already working it onto his dick.

“So Prohibition-coded.”

“I can find something to shove in that mouth, y’know.”

You were having too much fun at the old man’s expense, blissfully unaware that Joel was about one Gen X joke away from making you suck three of his arousal-soaked fingers. When you opened your mouth to speak—to try another wisecrack or else question the integrity of this ancient relic of a rubber—Joel crashed his lips against yours and made you mute with his tongue instead.

At the same time, he slowly eased himself inside you.

Your mouth fell open when you sank down on his length, fully, but no sound came out. You just gripped Joel’s shoulders and peered into his face as if to say, ‘Shit.’

No way any man was ever meant to feel this good.

No shot your walls were fitting his cock like a glove.

Joel soaked in your gaping, wordless stare with a nod.

“Good?”

“Great.”

You’d give all eight inches of the man a goddamn standing ovation if your legs weren’t feeling like jelly. Joel let out a small grunt when you clenched around him.

“Nice and…easy,” he said, as much to himself as to you. He pinched your hip in one gigantic hand and held you there, “Let ya take a second and adjust, alright, darlin’?”

“But Joel—” you whined, already trying to slide back up.

His grip kept you impaled on his dick, anchored in place. With the other hand, he brought a thumb to your clit.

“Just feel me, sweet pea,” Joel said, slow and languid as molasses while he touched you, “Ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

You couldn’t be sure if the man was a sadist or the world’s biggest fan of cockwarming—or just polite.

The bare, slightly-less-sexy truth was that Joel hadn’t done this in a very, very long time. Even the sex he’d had, close to a year ago, was something more of a flashbang than a bona fide carnal experience; he’d just bent a perfect stranger over the bathroom sink and drilled her. This was a fever dream, a first to end all firsts, and at present, Joel felt himself toeing a razor-thin line between self-restraint and bliss by just your presence alone.

In short, he didn’t want to fuck it up by busting too soon.

When you rolled your hips and squeezed your eyes shut above him, well, Joel almost fell into a panic.

Think of golf. Differential equations. The weather in Kuwait. Anything to get his mind off of how tight your pussy was holding him in, how lithe your body worked to grind above him while he sat there, so helpless and—

“Big,” you whined, stretched to the fullest you’d ever been. Unable to bounce up and down like you wanted but still squirming for more friction, “So big, daddy.”

Hockey. Geometry. Wind patterns around the Maldives. He held you even tighter, but your motions were growing desperate. You had to start moving.

“Joel, please,” you begged him.

“Baby, I’m—”

About to cum. I am two seconds away from cumming.

“Need you now, need you so—” your voice broke off in a moan as you sank your nails into his muscly shoulders, “So bad, daddy, please, please, please—”

On the seat beside you both, your phone lit up, buzzing:

Dad 💙

Fuck.

FUCK.

Your eyes locked on Joel’s in a shared look of panic and horror, and for once, your bodies stopped, perfectly still.

You knew your dad too well. Just as much as Joel did.

Your father wasn’t the type to call late at night unless something was up. And he wouldn’t stop calling until someone picked up.

“Should we…?” That whisper came from you.

Joel was frozen in fear, eyes now glued to the screen.

“Just…give it a sec,” he breathed, “Might be nothing.”

But his tone couldn’t mask the dread behind his words. He gritted his teeth and watched the phone ring.

It stopped.

Then started again.

The pair of you clung to one other in the old Ford’s bucket seat like your dad might veritably hear the two of you having sex from 1,300 miles away if you moved.

It stopped once more.

The screen stayed black.

You let out a small sigh and felt your eyes start to close.

Then the trill of a ringtone under Joel’s ass started up the second they’d fluttered shut, and suddenly your gaze was wide, and frightened, and freaking the fuck out when you realized that your dad was trying to reach Joel.

“Answer,” you hissed.

“What?!” The whites of Joel’s eyes were bigger now than you’d ever seen them.

“He’ll know something’s up! Just—” you slipped your hand under Joel’s rear, completely devoid of any sexual insinuation this time, and yanked his old iPhone 6 out of his pants, “Answer it. Now. Be cool.”

Joel’s expression was still paralyzed with terror, but he brought the ringing phone to his ear anyway. Gingerly tapped ‘answer’ once you’d smacked him on the bicep.

“He-e-y man.”

You were so fucking dead.

Your face hovered mere inches away, and you could almost hear the warble of your father’s voice on the line.

“Great,” Joel answered, stilted as a puppet with someone’s hand up its ass, “So good. How are you?”

A beat.

“She’s good, she’s good.”

For a moment, Joel’s gaze flitted to the spot where your bodies were still connected and you saw a flash of desire, followed by guilt, then his head tip back to close his eyes as he tried to concentrate on the conversation at hand.

“In the bathroom…Uh-huh…Phone must be dead…”

“No, she’s been a trooper—just fine…”

“Somewhere just shy’a Bedford, I think…”

You listened to Joel drone on and clench his jaw, and every now and then you’d feel a squelch in that tiny space between you two when one of you moved, and it occurred to you then that it probably was not in your best interest to stay seated on his dick while he talked. You shifted your legs underneath yourself to get up.

When you started to slide up Joel’s shaft—the first time you’d ever really moved, mind you—you felt a knot in your tummy start to tighten. The friction was to die for.

You sank back down and heard a hoarse little cry spill out from your lips before you got the chance to swallow it.

At the same time, Joel groaned. Then stopped himself. Then coughed—profusely.

“Sorry, just got a little—” Suddenly, a fiery set of eyes were searing holes in your head, angry as they were desperate, “—tickle in my throat is all.”

You ignored the strained Southern drawl and the eyes that looked ready to put a bullet between your own, and you rocked your hips again. The sensation was just too good. Your body practically acted of its own accord, and suddenly you were bouncing up and down in Joel’s lap.

The man beneath you looked enraged. Aroused.

Ready to wring your neck and maybe spit in your mouth.

“World’s movin’ too. damn. fast,” Joel seethed, trying to communicate to you semi-covertly while you rode his cock, “She’s one hell of a— firecracker, man, I’ll tell ya.”

You heard your dad’s laughter on the other end. While the sound subsided to chuckles, Joel grabbed your neck. He covered the mouthpiece for a second, then, in a murmur,

“This is not a fucking game.”

He squeezed your throat so tight you probably could’ve lost all circulation going to your head, but you smiled.

In spite of the hot, glowing embers of pleasure taking shape at the pit of your stomach and the coil that kept twisting and swelling inside, you grinned down at him. Then you mouthed, softly, ‘Yes, it is,’ and you rocked your hips against him even harder.

Joel drew in a breath through his teeth and watched you ride him with bleary, half-hooded eyes—keeping one hand on your carotid as the other hand cradled the phone to his ear. The man was transfixed.

By the pinch of just one set of fingers, you knew you were done for. A dwindling supply of oxygen, combined with your high and the hundreds of nerve-endings being brushed by Joel’s cock every other moment, you were spiraling toward release and didn’t know how to stop it.

When Joel pursed his lips and lifted his hips to start fucking up into you, you had to let go. Couldn’t hold on. You grabbed hold of his forearm, still hovering across your throat, and you moaned as the bliss washed over you. You slid your needy lower half back and forth, squeezed that tanned, tough arm practically bulging with veins above you, and you came around Joel’s cock. You whimpered his name, again and again, feeling him stroke your walls and fuck you through a euphoric high.

The next thing you felt was the seat cushion behind you—and the shift of Joel’s body weight pinning you down.

His cock hadn’t slipped an inch when he flipped you over; his grip was still secure on the phone.

The only thing that had changed was that look: malicious and vindictive with the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Joel felt you pulse around him, starting to come down from your high, and he just decided to fuck you even harder.

“Shouldn’t be much longer now…” Joel hummed aloud, lowering a hand to your throbbing clit and muttering a soft ‘Uh-huh’ to your father while you clawed at his wrist.

“Joel,” you choked.

Now the feeling was too much. You were still so wet, raw, and sensitive that the pad of his thumb almost drew a shriek from your chest when he moved his finger in circles. You heard them chat about football. Joel shared a short, strained laugh with the man on the other end and pretended not to hear your whines as he continued to rail you senseless in the front seat of his car.

With the diversion of the phone call keeping his own climax at bay, Joel was free to fuck you as rough as he pleased—and couldn’t be more in awe seeing you veer close to the edge, again.

“Please, daddy, please,” you beseeched him, tears springing to your eyes as Joel’s thrusts kept shaking you.

He just shook his head and smiled as if to say, ‘Hold still.’

“It’ll be fine,” he said, “Mahomes is next-level. Best they can do is keep their heads down and take it, y’know?”

Your own soft, aching hole was taking the beating of a lifetime, and somehow, you managed to meet Joel’s gaze with a look that almost struck him as loving. That blissed-out, cockdrunk look of pure debauchery crossing your eyes in a way he hadn’t come to find in ages, if ever, was intoxicating. He felt the first fluttering pulses of your orgasm squeeze around him again, and suddenly he was pumping you faster, drilling you harder, gripping your throat and starting to sense his own climax draw near.

He couldn’t finish off like this.

Not talking shop and Super Bowl to your father—no.

Joel had to do something you might rightly hate him for for the rest of your life, and never forget, or forgive.

He lowered the phone, and right before he did, said,

“She just stepped outta the bathroom, actually. No, yeah, she’s right here. Wanna say hello?”

Your heart skipped a beat and nearly jumped into your throat. You tried to shake your head—fast—and even went so far as to try and dodge the phone when Joel brought it down to your ear, but that motherfucker had a grip like you couldn’t believe and wouldn’t stop stroking inside you or holding you down. You hated that you found Joel’s total dominance and control…kind of hot.

You flashed him the most nasty, bratty, ‘I’ll get you for this, Joel’ look you could muster anyway, and when he pressed the phone to your cheek, you mouthed a few more silent expletives before changing your air entirely:

“Hey, dad!”

Joel knew he was cooked from the second you said hello. Something objectively malevolent inside him got a rush to hear you speak to your dad in such a contrived, high-pitched tone of voice, knowing the unspeakable things he was doing to your body the whole fucking time. He could focus, now, with no need for any strained civilities of his own, but deep down, he knew it wouldn’t last long. He would not last long.

Might as well make it fun while it lasts.

“He…did,” you hummed, flitting your eyes up to Joel when he brushed your lower lip with his thumb—still holding the phone up for you while he rutted into you, “No, nuh-uh…Mr…Mr. Miller didn’t mind, no sir.”

Shit, the sound of you saying ‘sir’ was something that made Joel’s whole body lurch with pleasure. He made a mental note to have you call him that later and stroked your lip once more.

You tried to turn your face away—telling Joel, wordlessly, that you couldn’t keep up this conversation with your father if you had a thumb in your fucking mouth, but Joel didn’t care. He watched you pause for a moment, let just the tip of his finger press into your tongue, then, battling your better judgment, wrap your lips around the digit almost cautiously and suck. He knew you liked it, too.

He knew it by the way you bobbed your head, hummed, and nodded every time he thrust inside your aching walls and dragged his cock back out. The way your teeth clamped hard on his thumb whenever he grazed a particularly sensitive spot and how your lips held him in like a gag, or some other thing to keep you quiet amidst the moans and the whimpers bubbling up in your chest.

Suddenly, Joel was at your other ear, lips grazing skin and tongue praising your every move.

“My sweet girl.”

“Doin’ such a good job stayin’ quiet.”

“Takin’ daddy’s cock so well, aren’t ya, darlin’?”

From that point on, every single one of your father’s words over the phone fell on deaf ears—all you could hear was Joel. All you could feel was Joel. Your lips parted as if starting to speak, but all that would come out were small puffs of air, perfectly in sync with each one of Joel’s thrusts.

“You okay, hon? You sound…distracted,” your dad pressed. A hint of concern rose from his end of the line.

At length, Joel gripped both of your legs and brought them up over his shoulders, and he grinned before kissing your ankle and shoving his cock even deeper.

“Yes!” you yelped as you crushed the phone to your ear, hoping your father couldn’t hear any of the filthy sounds down below, “Just a little stretched—I mean stressed out, is all.”

The sick, smug fuck currently wedged eight inches deep inside you almost burst out laughing. If you weren’t so perilously close to your fourth orgasm of the night, you would’ve told Joel to take a long walk off a short bridge.

“Just worried about grades a-a-and all,” you stammered.

Joel leaned forward and almost tore a scream out of your chest—his tip was kissing the edge of your cervix now.

“Yes, sir. I will.” You tried your hardest not to whine and almost let out a sigh, “I’ll…ask him about it, for sure.”

As bone-crushingly fun as this all was, Joel was close.

He could feel it in the furthest recesses of his stomach; he was about to blow his load.

So, leveraging his weight to strike just the right angle and pushing his thumb in to stifle your moans, Joel sped up and drew even closer, face-to-face, so he could see your every expression from a hair’s breadth away.

He was so near he could hear your dad’s droning voice. See you struggle to take cock the closer you got to your release. You hadn’t cum in such quick succession…ever, really. All but one of the guys you’d let between your legs before seemed like amateurs compared to Joel, and to be honest, you weren’t sure if you could make it to four.

You popped his thumb out of your mouth and mumbled some ‘Sure, okay’ or other to your dad before casting a pleading look up at Joel. His hips were working up to a ruthless pace.

You covered the mouthpiece.

“I can’t, Joel.”

“Sure you can, sugar.”

“Joel,” you hissed, and tried to grab his wrist, when you felt your stomach start to cave. Every exposed inch of skin gave way to waves of heat, and your toes curled in. Worst of all, Joel was letting out sounds you hadn’t ever heard—short, ragged breaths that broke off in low groans—and it felt as though he were cradling your head. Holding you to him. Your eyes were locked on one another, your mouths practically panting in time, and what parts of you had not yet become commingled with him were practically coated with sweat. And shaking.

Then, in tones that rang like music to your ears:

“Alright, I’ll let ya head to bed, then. G’night, pumpkin.”

Your dad hadn’t even fully hung up the phone before you flung it across the car. Heels dug deep in Joel’s back.

“Cum for daddy,” Joel coaxed, “Cum all over this cock.”

You didn’t need much more instigation than that.

You came. He followed.

And it probably split his eardrum in two having his name screamed so fucking loud, but frankly, Joel hadn’t seen a reason for going deaf that he could’ve enjoyed so much.

Then, he didn’t sink so much as simply collapse on top of you while you both kicked back and let the waves of ecstasy roll over you. You adored his warmth in spite of the heat practically suffocating you both in that car.

Until it was in you.

Sticky, sweet dripping inside you.

You pushed Joel hard in the shoulder.

“Did it…”

“What?”

“Joel!”

You flipped your legs down and tapped his abdomen furiously, telling him, pull out, pull out right fucking now, and Joel gently obliged. Dragged his cock three-fourths of the way out when a frail, tattered condom came loose around the head of his cock and almost fell off entirely. That damn prehistoric rubber had broken inside you.

“JOEL!”

“I’m sorry! Fuck, I— fuck.”

Joel scrambled to get his cum-drenched cock and what remained of the condom away from your body, but the damage was done. You started throwing on clothes.

“I’m ovulating this week, I am so fucking fucked!”

Joel swallowed, shimmying his boxers and jeans back into place and scoping the front seat for his shirt.

“What’s…ovulating?”

You wanted to tear your hair out at the root.

There was no way this man had survived half a century on earth and didn’t understand the menstrual cycle.

“It means I can get pregnant if we don’t get a Plan B up in this bitch immediately. Let’s GO!”

That part seemed to click. Joel almost fell over himself trying to find his keys, while you slid out of the Bronco.

“Where are you going?!”

“To— to try and get some of this shit out of me first!”

Joel bounded after you, and within the first steps, you were sprinting across the parking lot. Your sweaty, half-naked companion tried—and failed—to slow you down.

“Are you not on birth control?” Joel huffed.

“Are you not capable of buying condoms more than once every fucking decade—or three?” you snapped.

Your strides were growing wider and more frantic by the second. Joel clutched his side and struggled to keep up.

“I’m…sorry,” he grunted, more embarrassed and worn-out than anything at the moment, “I’m sorry, darlin’.”

“‘Sorry’ doesn’t get your cum out of me, daddy.”

Your words couldn’t have gotten any more caustic or merciless—or inopportune—if you tried.

As it was, you were passing by the breezeway where all the bored lacrosse players were still lounging around, cracking cold ones, and craning their necks to see what the fuss outside was all about. The sounds of your feet racing fast on gravel and you and Joel’s raucous, bickering back-and-forth had caught their attention, and shortly, Connor was sticking his head around the corner. His expression—along with all the faces behind him—had twisted with horror. Confusion. A visible look of disgust.

Joel had just slowed down to catch his breath. He doubled over and braced both hands on his knees.

“I’ll fuckin’…duct tape my dick next time I hit it, honey!” he wheezed, barely loud enough for you to hear but perfectly audible to all the terrified guys around him.

Joel turned his head and almost groaned.

Then he was straightening himself back up, starting to retreat from the group who had him pinned with genuinely frightened—and nauseated—looks.

Joel normally wouldn’t care. This time, though, he threw his hands up and thought, fuck it, I’ll clear the air.

Over his shoulder, he grinned, yelling back to the guys:

“I’m not actually her dad!”

All of them stared back. Half-jealous, half-awestruck, Connor stood up, raised his beer, and called after him:

“I SURE FUCKIN’ HOPE YOU’RE NOT!”

#NO ONE SPEAK TO ME FOR AT LEAST A WEEK #THIS IS DISGUSTING #I AM DISGUSTING #DO NOT PERCEIVE ME PLEASEJE HAHAHAHAH #brain rot ❤️ #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fic #joel miller x you #dbf!joel

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

#writeblr #warm up #this is longer than i wanted i really considered removing that part about myself and what i went thru #but i think it really fucking bothers me that EVERY time i talk about being an artist #ppl assume i just like. had the skill and ability to drop everything and pay for grad school. #like sir i grew up poor. my house wasn't a safe space. i gave up a FREE RIDE TO LAW SCHOOL. for THIS. bc i chose it. #was it fucking hard? was i choosing the hard thing?? yes. #but we need to stop seeing artists as lazy layabouts that can ''afford'' to just ''sit around and create'' #when MANY - if not MOST - of us are NOT like that. we have to work our fucking ASSES off. hard work. long and hard work #part of valuing artists is recognizing the amount we sacrifice to make our art. bc it doesn't just #like HAPPEN to us. also btw it rarely has anything to do with true talent. #speaking as someone with a chronic condition i hate when ppl are like u have it easy. like actively as i'm writing this my hands r #ACTIVELY hurting me. i haven't been posting bc my left hand was curled in a claw for the last week #this isn't fucking luck. after a certain point it's not even TALENT. it's dedication & sacrifice. #''u get to flounce around and do nothing with ur life'' is a narrative that is a direct result of capitalism #imagine if we said that about literally any other profession. #''oh so u give up 10 yrs of ur life to be a doctor? u sacrifice having a social life and u get SUPER in debt? #u need to work countless hours and it will often be thankless? well i wish i was that lucky'' #we should be applying that logic to landlords ONLY #''oh ur mom and dad gave u the money to buy a house? and all u did was paint it white and rent it? huh.''

[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.

.

.

.

FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️

#pedro pascal characters #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #the last of us #my writing #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller the last of us

[ourautumn86]

c*m hub

ellie williams x fem! reader

💋making cash and making love!

cw; +18 content, minors dni!!, dom! ellie, sub! reader, use of sex platform, strap on sex (r! receiving), hair pulling, choking, voyeurism, multiple orgasms, begging, praising, teasing, daddy kink, breeding kink, dirty talk, praise, pussy slaps, messy sex, oral sex (r! receiving), mouth fucking w fingers (r! receiving), degradation…

old collab w/ @abbyscherry that got taken down. thanks again for this amazing work love!!❤️

KEEP TALKING ABOUT PALESTINE! BOYCOTT THOSE WHO LET THIS GENOCIDE HAPPEN!

how you can help

“yeah just like that baby, oh fuck. bounce on my cock.” your moans were filling your room, one of ellie’s hands on your ass, guiding you up and down on her strap, fucking you so deep you could feel it on your cervix. “so fucking good for me. taking my cock so good…”

you slammed your hips harder down against her own, making her groan as the back of the strap rubbed against her clit.

“that’s it. ride my dick. atta fucking girl…” you whimpered. the image was so dirty, ellie pointing at your pussy swallowing her strap hole with her phone, your white cream dripping down the length of her cock onto the base on a white ring. ellie could almost taste it on her tongue. taste you. maybe if you were a good girl for her she could clean you all up later. “she’s greedy huh? greediest fuckin’ pussy i’ve ever seen” you moaned, fucking yourself harder onto her, your thighs burning. you couldn’t stop. it felt so good…

“els” you whimpered softly, your weak arms wrapped around her neck, your nimble fingers sliding through her damp hair, tugging just enough to tear a grunt from her lips.

“come on baby speak up, what do you want? you want me to fuck you open for all of them to see?” her deep voice muttered against the skin of your neck, sucking a bruise that you’d proudly wear for everyone to see. her eyes latched onto your beautiful breasts, bouncing with every little jump you took on her cock.

“daddy—”

ellie couldn’t help but smirk, her auburn eyebrows curving.

“daddy, huh?” she chuckled, seeing your cheeks turn red. “that’s right baby, i’m your fucking daddy.” her hips thrusted upwards, making you let out the most wonderful moan she has ever heard as the tip of her cock reached your most sensitive spots. “what do y’all think? should daddy give it to her?” she asked to those who were watching her stream, smirking at the donations and money coming through saying that yes, she should totally fuck your brains out.

wordlessly, you’re nodding your head against hers, not even looking at the donations that endlessly flow, and your lips are pressing random kisses to her neck. The sounds of your small ‘yes yes yes’ chants echoing in her ears.

ellie chuckled. “y’all are too good to her. does she deserve it though? do you deserve it babygirl?” she asked, low, sultry. you could cum just by the sound of her voice.

“please daddy, i’ll be good. i’ll be a good girl.” you begged.

“course you will baby, look at you. fucked out and dumb on my cock already”

“want it. want all of it.” your pleading puppy eyes stared into her greenish ones, grinding yourself down with her cock deep inside of you, making your mind and vision dizzy. it felt so good. to feel her like this.

“yeah? you want it?” you nodded, your back arching as one of her hands came up to your chest to cup your right tit, thumb and index pinching your nipple. “then lay on your back for me, baby.” she slightly pushed you until you were falling on your back, whimpering when you felt her cock slide out of your aching and soaked pussy. you needed her back in. needed her deep. as deep as she could reach.

your eyes were wide but hooded, your body shivered as her fingers trailed down your stomach, across your hip bones and between your legs, where she aimed the phone closer, giving them a good view of your pussy. those hazel green eyes focused on the screen, mouth watering at the sight of her fingers so effortlessly peeling apart your folds, groaning out a soft “fuck” as she watches your hole clench around nothing, your slick dripping. “look at her, i told ya, so fuckin’ needy for more” she rasps out.

a scream rips your throat at the slap she gives to your cunt, making your back arch.

“she really needs it, huh?” next thing you felt? her cock gliding through your folds, teasing you, bumping against your clit. it was so fucking big and thick it always hurt to take it, but it hurt so good… you wanted her to break you over and over again after the first time she filled you up with it, begging her to go harder, to use you. and she had. so good.

you cried out. “that’s it baby. let them hear you.”

“please daddy, please…”

she clicked her tongue. “nuh-uh baby. don’t beg me. beg them.” she smirked, pointing the camera at your face. the chat went crazy at your fucked out expression and teary eyes.

you gulped, staring right into the camera. “please. fuck me please.” you whined, moaning when ellie’s hips thrusted against your cunt, the tip of her cock rubbing against your puffy throbbing clit.

“so fucking needy” she grits out, one hand gripping your hip, and the other still holding the phone somewhat still. “i might as well give it to her, don’t y’all think?” she smirked at the positive comments. and you let out a gasp when she slid in in a quick and harsh thrust, all the way to the base.

“fuck!” you screamed. “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” you cried out as she started to slowly fuck you on her cock, her hips moving so swiftly.

“thaaats it. taking it so good. nice and deep baby.” you were a moaning mess. you were so full.

“ ‘s too big! too big!” you whimpered, feeling your walls squeezing the silicone. ellie groaned. she believed she could feel you, sucking her right in.

“too big baby? is my cock too big for your little pussy?” she inquired. “look at you, whining about it yet you’re milking me dry. fuck” the back of the strap was rubbing against her clit. “look so good taking it, honey. such a good girl for daddy.” you moaned. one of her hands took a grip of your leg, pushing it against your chest, her cock now reaching deeper, kissing your cervix. your eyes rolled back. she was in so deep.

“fuck me, daddy. harder.” you begged, and she groaned.

“fucking slut. can’t get enough of my cock, can you?” a harsh thrust had you screaming. “you want it baby? want me to break this pretty little pussy open on my dick?” you nodded. “words.” she spat, and your lips parted.

“yes! yes please, daddy.”

scoffing under her breath, she mutters out something along the lines of ‘just a dirty girl’ or ‘too dumb to think’ you weren’t exactly sure anymore, not with how good her cock felt— how good she felt. “look at you, fuckin’ taking my cock so well, shit” She chokes out, the hand she has on your leg, gripping harder. “made to take my fuckin’ cock”

“can’t! els s’too much, please” you wail, fingernails bluntly digging into her arm, leaving crescent moons in your wake.

“stop being a cry baby and fucking take it.” she grunted, pistoning inside you. the chat was going crazy at the sight of your pussy sucking in her cock, the silicone drenched in your juices. you were screaming at this point. “so fucking loud.” she groaned, stuffing two of her fingers down your throat. “there. you just needed something to keep that pretty little mouth of yours busy with, hm? come on darling, open up.” you followed, open up further for her and relaxing your throat, gagging when she pushed them even deeper. “thaats it. gag on my fingers, doll.” there was spit dribbling down your chin as she abused your mouth and cunt. you felt so full. your eyes welled up with tears, they flickered between her hazel green ones and the camera that was capturing the lewd image of your cunt swallowing her whole. “fuck. wanna fuck a baby into you, doll. wanna fill you up. wanna leave you dripping for a week with my cum.”

your cunt clenched around her cock, humming in agreement around her fingers at her obscene words. ellie simply chuckles at the way you continue to gag on her fingers, unable to say anything other than making gargled sounds of agreement. “course you’d want that, to be round with my kids, huh? feel my cum filling your pussy, hm?”

the thought of it alone had you whimpering around her fingers, tears rolled uncontrollably down your already tear stained cheeks as you nodded your head as quick as lightening. “yeah, i’ll make you a mama— fuck. you’ll make the prettiest mama, all swollen with my kids. maybe i’ll fuck two into you, hm? would you like that baby? give me twins? make me a daddy?”

all you could really do was nod pathetically. “answer me.” she grunted, pulling her fingers out of your mouth, making you whimper. you missed them.

“yes, yes, please yes…”

“such a dirty little slut” you whined, your hips pushing against the harsh thrust that she gave you, seeking more.

“give it to me daddy. please give me your cum.” ellie moaned, fucking you harder. needier.

the wet squelches of your pussy taking her cock were filling the room along with your choked out moans. knowing that thousands of people were actually watching you right now as ellie fucked the conscience out of you had your cheeks glowing a beautiful crimson.

you could feel that well-known devastating warmth spreading on your stomach, feeling pressure on your spine. you started bucking your hips against hers, seeking for her to reach deeper. you looked desperate. like an animal in heat. maybe you were. so desperate to cum you were trembling. shaking under her hold. the pings of donations were deafening. “you hear that baby? hear how much they want you? but you’re mine, aren’t you? fucking mine.” you nodded. “say it.”

“i’m yours. yours daddy, yours.” you slurred, feeling cock drunk. so close to cumming. your cunt was pulsing. she could almost feel it.

“you gonna cum, baby? gonna milk my cock, hm?” you moaned. “yeah that’s right. tight fucking pussy. my pussy. my fucking pussy.”

“wanna make you a daddy” you hiccup. “i’ll make you a daddy” that only makes her fuck you faster, harder, cutting off your moans with every thrust. “ellie, gonna… gonna cum!” you somehow managed to babble in between sobs and whimpers.

“yeah, fucking right.” she moaned, feeling her own high approaching by the way the back of the strap rubbed her swollen and throbbing clit. quickly removing her hand and grip on your leg, she places the same hand lightly around your throat, enjoying the way your eyes widen. “gonna give it to daddy, baby?” she chuckled, fingers twitching against your neck.

you nodded, using your own hand to put more pressure on hers. “more…”

the noise she made was somewhere between a breathless chuckle or grunt, you weren’t really sure but she inhaled sharply through her nose. “you really are fuckin’ dirty aren’t you?” she growled, fingers tightening around your neck just enough to have your lips parting and back arching. the lack of air in your lungs only turned you on even more. “c’mon pretty, give it to daddy like the good girl you are” she didn’t have to ask twice. before you know it moans were spilling from your lips as your walls choked her cock, pulsing and creaming all over the silicone as she fucked you through it, camera focused on the way your cum dribbled out of your hole. “good girl. good fucking girl.” she grunted, feeling her high approaching by just the sight alone. “fuck. gonna cum baby. gonna cum inside this tight little pussy. gonna fuck a baby into you. fuck, fuck, fuck!” she moaned. you begged for it. tears swelling in your eyes.

“inside daddy please, cum inside!” you whimpered, feeling her thrust one, two, three more sloppy times before she was grunting and cumming all over her strap.

“fuuuuuuck.” she groaned, fucking herself through it, using you like a little fuck toy. you moaned when she finally stilled, breathing ragged and hazel eyes glasses over in lust.

the pings of donations wouldn’t stop coming. fuck. she was gonna spoil the shit out of you after this.

and maybe she could start now.

“take the phone.” she ordered, handing you the it. your shaky hands took it, your vision turning white for a moment as she pulled out of you. you whimpered. feeling empty. you hoped she would fuck you again. even stay inside and let you cockwarm her.

you watched through the screen, the camera was focused on her exposed chest, perky little breasts making your mouth water. you wanted to suck on them. then, she slowly got onto her stomach and in between your legs, hazel eyes staring up at you and into the camera. you bit down onto your lip, spreading your legs wider for her, to what she hummed. she looked at your pussy. at your swollen and glistening pussy, and groaned. “so fucking wet…” you moaned when the feeling of warm spit pooled in between your folds. she was slowly dribbling onto your cunt. her hand found your pussy to spread the wetness around and expose your twitching hole just to spit on it. you whined, your hips bucking against her face, what made her chuckle. “eager, aren’t we?” and then her tongue was on you, and you were moaning, the phone tilting upwards as your grip staggered. she sucked on your clit and let go with a pop, her free hand coming up to straighten the camera for you. “keep it still or i’ll stop.” she threatened, and your eyes rolled back. there it was. that sultry voice of her that made you drip.

the hand that wasn’t holding onto the phone threads through her auburn hair, tugging just enough that she hums into your pussy, willingly letting you push her head closer. your breath shaky as you continue to watch her eagerly slurp and suck at your folds through the little cracked screen. “sweetest pussy i’ve ever tasted”

you were looking at the chat, reading the messages that the people posted as ellie slowly yet hungrily ate you out. you were biting on your lip, rocking your hips against her face, making her grunt. she looked at the camera, licking you up from hole to clit, sucking on it and making you moan. you knew she was doing it for you, to rile you up.

“fuck, ellie.” you sighed as she suckled on your clit, slurping up your slick and kissing your folds. “your fingers. your fingers please.” you pleaded. and she moaned, one of her fingers quickly finding your entrance and prodding against it, teasing you. “daddy, please.. i’ve been so good”

“you guys think she has? think she’s been good enough for daddy?” the comments filled the screen, the donations ringing. ellie grinned against your folds. she knew what that meant. “well then…” and suddenly she was pushing her middle finger in, making you gasp.

“fuck!” you cried out, your hips bucking against her face to push her deeper. she continued lapping at your pussy, looking at your expressions. she loved to se you fall apart under her tongue.

“yeah?” she inquired. she knew she was good. “that good, huh?” she teased, curling her finger against your g spot.

your fingers tangled tighter in her hair, nails scratching at her scalp. “so good daddy, always” you knew this only riled her up more, made her needier for you. she was thrusting against the sheets, rutting her puffy clit and soaked pussy against the back of her strap for some friction as she pushed in a second finger. you sighed. “yes, fuck. yes just like that.” she hummed as you cried out, feeling your second orgasm of the night approaching at great speed. “gonna cum again, oh fuck, gonna cum again!” you whimpered, and she went faster, sucked harder on your clit.

“i know, can feel it. pussy’s squeezing around my fingers, fuck” she groans hoarsely. “let daddy have it yeah? c’mon, please” she’s begging. groaning when your legs tighten around her head, keeping her caged in.

it’s happening before you can even ask her to cum, like you normally would. your fingers gripping her hair so tightly that she’s hissing, the movements of her tongue and fingers still fucking into you at a hard pace.

she devours you. eats you up. slurps on your cum and satiates herself. you always taste like fucking heaven.

both your worlds disconnect for a moment. you forget about the stream, and almost about breathing as you ride out your orgasm, thighs shaking at the sides of ellie’s face. and when you both come to your senses, you’re spent. and now thousands of dollars richer.

and maybe and just maybe, once the stream is over, you two fuck for hours on end. this time for yourselves, until you’re both passing out on each other’s arms and with cum in between your thighs.

“love you, els”

“i love you, baby”

-

a/n; hi babies, i’ve missed you so much! have a couple of works on drafts for you so you’ll be hearing from me soon :))

also ty so so so so much for the 9k followers i’m so happy i don’t deserve y’all😭❤️

#ellie williams tlou #ellie williams the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie #ellie williams smut #ellie smut #tlou ellie #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie x fem reader #ellie x y/n #ellie x you #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams fan fiction #ellie williams fanfiction #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou imagine #tlou smut #tlou fluff #tlou2 #tlou x reader

[hottpinkpenguin]

Joel Miller X Fem!Reader - Last of Us

A/N: i watched the first episode of Last of Us yesterday and suffice it to say that Joel Miller officially has a chokehold on me and i ain't complaining.

Warnings: dark themes; post-apocalyptic dystopia; death of reader's minor child; probably a lot of non-canon details since I've never played the game; not proofread; spoilers if you haven't seen the show/played the game Word Count: 2402 Abbreviations: QZ = quarantine zone; FDRA "Fedra" = Federal Disaster Response Agency

---

Dying was a way of life in the QZ. Seemed like everyone was dying lately. Fireflies, FDRA, and most of all the people in between. The lost and lonely. 

You met Joel shortly after you died. Your spirit died with your twelve year old son, Gabriel. The docs had told you it was most likely cancer. The fucking irony of that burned you from the inside out until you felt completely hollow. Just a shell of a person, really. Your emotions felt anesthetized, your brain in a perpetual fog. You went about your day from routine and muscle memory. You might as well have been infected. At least then you’d have some sort of purpose. Without Gabriel, you felt utterly useless. He’d brought you a sense of optimism, a reason to at least try and believe in the future. When you’d lost Gabriel’s father Eddie, you’d at least had your son. But without him. Well, without him, there wasn’t any you. You didn’t have a role anymore, didn’t add anything to anyone’s life. You couldn’t think of anything more death-like than waking up day after day to the realization that you didn’t matter to anyone. The night Joel met you, in fact, you had vague plans to drink yourself into oblivion and hopefully not wake up.

But, something changed when Joel ran into you. And he did literally run into you. 

You were walking back from the bus stop after a shift cleaning the killing floor of the poultry planet. A cold, drizzling rain soaked the streets in a fine layer of mist. You crossed your arms over your chest, tucking your head underneath the threadbare hood of Eddie’s old hunting jacket. For a few weeks after Eddie had died in a firefight between the Fireflies and FDRA, the jacket had smelled like him, and you’d taken up wearing it. Damn thing wasn’t too warm, but at least it was decently waterproof. That had been years ago. It was useless now, neither warm nor waterproof, but it was all you had. Everything else you’d sold. 

You were going through the usual calculations in your head, trying to figure out how you were going to scrounge together enough cards to get some hot food in your belly, when something - someone, you realized after he’d hit you - came tearing around the corner of an alley. You weren’t braced for it, and even your reflexes didn’t seem to care enough to break your fall. You hit the damp, cobbled pavement hard on your left shoulder, your head bouncing off the tar and sending stars across your vision. You heard a man’s voice swear as you blacked out…

*****

When you came to, you weren’t in the rain anymore. Your head throbbed and you didn’t dare move in case you vomited. You were resting on something soft, albeit a little lumpy, and there was a blanket wrapped around you. Your head was propped up on a musty smelling pillow and there was a fire crackling nearby. Your shoulder was screaming in pain, and against your better judgment you twisted as gently as you could manage to try and relieve the pressure on your joint. Your gut turned, and you leaned over to wretch as far from yourself as you could. With the first sound of gagging, you felt cold, rough hands grab the hair around your face and pull it away from your mouth as a bucket was shoved in front of your face. 

“Good, you’re awake.” A man’s voice.

You peaked towards the voice through slitted eyelids. The faint, hazy light through a dingy window felt like someone was driving a drill bit into your temple. 

“That’s a shame,” you rasped out, earning a dark chuckle from the man sitting across from you. The laugh didn’t reach his eyes. He had the same thousand-mile stare that most people in the QZ had. You couldn’t guess his age - that was another thing survivors had in common. Nothing ages you like the Apocalypse, Eddie used to say. 

“Pretty sure you’re concussed.” 

You nodded, trying to swallow down the acidic taste of bile-vomit. 

“Pretty sure you concussed me,” you shot back. Another chuckle, this one a bit fuller. 

“Yeah, that’d be me. Sorry about that. I had FDRA on my heels.” You shrugged, trying to push yourself up on the couch. Another wave of nausea tore through your head, but there wasn’t anything to vomit up except saliva. You managed to swallow it down, closing your eyes again to stop the spinning sensation. 

“I’ve got some broth cooking,” the man went on. “I think you should eat a bit. Settle your stomach. You’ve been out for almost 24 hours.” 

You did an idle calculation in your head, automatically tallying up the date. November 29. Not that it mattered, but it was a habit you hadn’t been able to shake ever since the outbreak. 

“Not hungry,” you replied, biting down on your tongue against another spasm in your gut.

“Yeah, but you need to eat. Looks like you don’t do that too often.” You shot the man the darkest look you could muster. You’d learned long ago not to trust men who commented on your appearance. 

“You look sick is all I mean,” your companion added apologetically. He thrust you a bowl with a watery-thin, yellow liquid in it, a curled tongue of steam rising from its surface and an old dented spoon sticking out of the broth. 

“Just try it,” he encouraged you as you eyed him suspiciously. He was big, you realized, tall and strong. One of those QZ guys who lived hard and had the muscles to speak for it. It wasn’t the same kind of physique that people had before the outbreak: lean, toned, all for show. Fitness wasn’t a luxury anymore. It was a necessity for most people in the QZ. Some lines of work required it more than others. And judging by the strong forearm that handed you the bowl, whatever this guy did, it was serious business. 

You accepted the bowl, relishing the warmth of the ceramic between your hands. Your stomach growled as the smell of chicken broth tickled your nostrils. You took a tentative sip, burning your tongue. Your movements were slow and deliberate. 

“Joel.” 

“Huh?” You raised an inquisitive eyebrow at your companion.

“Joel. My name’s Joel,” he clarified. 

You nodded, taking another sip of the broth. Even though moving made you sick to your stomach, your body was reacting hungrily to the taste. 

“Y/N,” you replied after a few moments of silence. Normally, you’d give a fake name. But, what was the point? Even with your real name, Joel didn’t have anything of yours to use against you. There wasn’t anything left to hurt you by. 

“You were Gabriel’s mother, weren’t you?” 

You froze, the spoon halfway to your lips. The sound of Gabriel’s name tore through you like lightning. The heart you’d forgotten you had twisted painfully in your chest.

“What the fuck did you say?” Anger came to the surface first. Your voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Gabriel. Sweet kid. Saw him hanging around the gate a couple times.” If Joel noticed your reaction, he didn’t let on. He was idly poking a burning log in an old, dirty fireplace. 

You didn’t know what to say, couldn’t make yourself speak. Even if you had, you didn’t trust yourself not to dissolve. Joel hadn’t met you before, yet somehow he’d managed to grab onto the only thread of humanity you still had. One tug on that thread and you were unraveling. 

“I’m sorry about what happened to him. Awful shit, cancer. My sister had it, back before… before shit went sideways.” Joel wasn’t looking at you, didn’t even seem to be talking to you. You couldn’t breathe. Gabriel’s name still echoed inside your ears.

“I lost my little girl, too. Sarah. When the outbreak happened. In Texas.”

Joel finally turned to face you. His eyes were empty, and you recognized that emptiness. It mirrored your own. 

“You’ll never get over it, if you’re wondering. Not that you are. Because you already know. I can see it.” Tears dripped off your chin onto the blanket in your lap. You didn’t know how long you’d been crying. 

“I’m sorry,” you sputtered out after a few silent, empty moments. 

Across the room from you, Joel nodded.

“Yeah. Me too.” 

You finished the rest of your broth in silence. It was the longest conversation you’d had with anyone in weeks, and somehow you’d never felt more alone.

*****

You spent the next couple of days in a liminal space between healing and falling apart. Joel’s acknowledgment of Gabriel had broken something loose inside you, and as your head began to clear, you felt the grief all the more. It felt different than before, even right after you lost him. Gabriel’s death had cored the soul out of your body. Now, whatever was happening was infinitely more painful. You hated it, but you also hadn’t realized how much you’d missed feeling things. Even though what you felt was agonizing, it was affirming in a fucked up way to know you weren’t incapable of emotion.

Joel maintained his silence on the subject. In fact, he was generally silent. You exchanged a handful of words here and there, usually in response to him asking about your health. 

How’s the head?

Fine.

Good.

After about a week, the questions took a different quality.

When do you think you’ll be ready to go?

Go where?

Anywhere you need to.

I don’t have anywhere I need to go.

OK. 

You didn’t take offense to his questions, and he didn’t take offense to your responses. There was a companionable bluntness to your interactions. He asked after the basics - did you have what you needed, were you sick, hungry, cold - and you answered simply and honestly. No follow ups, no games, no need to converse on anything. In fact, after the first conversation you’d had about Gabriel and Sarah, you and Joel didn’t talk about anything at all. 

It was the eighth day when you finally felt well enough to stand up and cook. Joel was out - where, you didn’t know - but you thought you’d heat something up for him. An hour before curfew, you moved into the kitchen and started looking through the cabinets. He’d been good about sharing his food with you, and you knew enough of QZ life to know that sparing food wasn’t something everyone would do. And he hadn’t broached the subject of repayment. You doubted he ever would; despite his gruffness, Joel had a core of generosity. You didn’t know anyone anymore who would let a complete stranger spend a week on their couch, no matter how sick they were. 

You found a can of split pea soup in the back of the pantry and an opened package half-full of saltines. You picked out the crackers that didn’t have mold on them while the soup heated over the single gas burner Joel used for cooking. The light was fading outside; curfew was a few minutes away. Right on time, you heard Joel’s key in the lock on the apartment door. A few seconds later, Joel walked into the kitchen.

“What’s this?”

“Dinner,” you replied, gesturing to the two barstools he had tucked up the kitchen counter. He sat, letting out a bone-weary sigh as he threw off his boots, chucking them towards the hall where the door was. 

“Long day?” you asked idly. For some reason, you felt an urge to make conversation that you hadn’t noticed before around him. Maybe it was vestiges of your old life. Memories of entertaining Eddie while you made dinner flicked in your mind. Or maybe it was because something felt different about Joel today.

“Sure,” he replied flatly. You heard the sound of his flask opening, followed by a thick gulp. He drank a lot. You’d noticed that quickly. It didn’t bother you, and he was as generous with the whiskey as he was with his food.

“When are you leaving?” His question was angry. You turned to look at him, not exactly insulted but faintly stung. 

“I told you, I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“That’s not what you said. You said there’s nowhere you need to go, not that there’s nowhere you can go.” You nodded once. Joel was right. The distinction felt accusatory, and you once again had the impression that he was about to speak to a part of you that you didn’t want said out loud. Just like he’d done that first night when he’d talked about Gabriel.

You sucked in a breath before turning to face him, sliding a plate of the edible saltines across the counter. 

“I can leave anytime you need me to,” you said, your voice soft and quiet. “I’m feeling good enough to travel.” 

Joel looked into you for a breath. His eyes looked the same, but you had the distinct impression that they weren’t as empty as the first time you’d seen him. Whatever it was you saw in his gaze, it made you feel ashamed, and you broke eye contact. 

He shifted on the barstool before taking another generous swig from his flask. 

“Good. Tonight.”

You raised your eyebrows at him.

“It’s almost curfew,” you pointed out, nodding in the direction of the window to the street below.

“Fine. Tomorrow then.” His voice was hard as stone.

You nodded, stirring the soup and turning away from him. You didn’t want him to see the rejection in your eyes. You couldn’t say what you’d wanted, but all you knew was this wasn’t it. 

“Tomorrow,” you agreed quietly. 

Joel sat for another instant. You sensed that he was waiting for something: you couldn’t tell if he was waiting for you or waiting for something in himself. Whatever it was he was waiting on, the moment passed. He sighed, frustrated, before he scooted away from the counter and went to the couch. He didn’t say anything when you brought him the soup, and he didn’t say anything when he went into his bedroom, closing the door behind him to drink himself to sleep. You were awake and gone before he came out the next morning, although somehow you knew that he was wide awake, listening to the sound of your departure through the door.

**part 2 here!! Let me know if you want to be tagged in future chapters

#joel miller #last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller imagine #last of us imagine #last of us hbo #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #joel miller last of us

[joelsgreys]

baby, i’m yours

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: You remind Joel that you’re his.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION however she does wear Joel’s t-shirt and he semi lifts her onto a counter? sorta but not really? UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (Joel is in his 50’s but reader’s specific age is not mentioned). established relationship, sort of. consumption of food (if you are allergic to peanuts, i so sorry). angst, Joel and Ellie’s strained relationship is lightly implied, Joel is insecure, it’s implied reader did some horrible things in her past, reassurance, brief smut, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, consider it a quickie idk. apologies if i missed anything.

word count: 2.6k

a/n: this short lil thing has been sitting in my drafts forever. i finished it while i was in ireland and finally had the chance to sit down and do a quick edit and when i say it was quick, i flew through it so i could hop onto my next wip so please excuse any errors! here’s a spotify link to the song if anyone’s curious, it’s an oldie but a goodie although it may not be everyone’s cup of tea.

main masterlist l fic notifs

Joel rolls over in bed, his arm outstretched and seeking the warmth of your soft, naked body.

“Mmph,” a small, sleepy groan falls from his lips as his long, thick fingers feel around on your side of the bed—of his bed. Of course, you have your very own bedroom in the house you all had been placed in when you first arrived in Jackson. Your very own bed to sleep in is just down the hallway, but lately, you’ve been waking up beside him a lot more often than not, especially now that Ellie’s a bit older and she’s gone and made herself her own space out in the garage behind the house. Being under the same roof as Joel did those two more harm than it did good, and while you missed having her around, it was for the best.

“She’ll come around, Joel,” you’d assured him. “I know she will. She just needs a bit of time is all.”

“Hope you’re right, darlin’,” he had murmured sadly in response.

Still lost somewhere in between sleep and full consciousness, Joel continues feeling around for you, but all he finds are the wrinkled sheets, cold and abandoned. Confused, his eyes finally flutter open and with a painful protest from his sore, stiff back, he sits up, blinking furiously as he looks around the darkness of his bedroom. The door’s been left cracked open ever so slightly, and as his vision adjusts now that he’s fully awake, he notices the dim glow of the hallway light that’s peeking through into the room.

He turns and glances over at the old digital alarm clock perched on his nightstand, the obnoxious, bright red numbers practically screaming at him that it’s a quarter past midnight. With a small, tired grunt, Joel switches on the lamp beside the clock and swings his legs over the side of the mattress, goosebumps erupting across his flesh the instant that his bare feet meet the cold, hardwood floor. He stands and fumbles around for his clothes, which he’d tossed carelessly somewhere over his shoulder hours earlier when he’d been lost in the heat of the moment with you. He finds his faded, navy blue sweatpants strewn across a chair next to the door and pulls them on over his naked lower body before searching for his t-shirt. When he doesn’t immediately see it, he doesn’t bother, figuring that it’s just going to come back off when he climbs back into bed with you.

Padding out of his bedroom, he makes his way down the hallway, heading towards the staircase. As he draws closer, he hears it—the soft music that’s coming from downstairs.

Baby, I'm yours

and I'll be yours until the stars fall from the sky

yours until the rivers all run dry

in other words, until I die

He’s led towards the kitchen and that’s where he finds you.

Joel wants to be annoyed. 

Fuck, he tries to be annoyed. But he can’t help the way that the corners of his mouth threaten to turn upwards when his eyes take in the sight before him.

You’re standing at the center island slowly swaying your hips from side to side along to the beat of the song that’s playing from the record player perched next to the instant coffee maker on the counter behind you. He’d nearly wrung your neck when he found out what all you had traded just to get your hands on it, but you loved that thing more than life itself it seemed, so he couldn’t stay mad for very long. You’re making yourself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich—the peanut butter you’d learned how to make yourself with the old food processor he found deep in one of the kitchen cabinets, and the strawberry preserves you had picked up from the market earlier that week. Clad in nothing but his t-shirt, you’re singing along quietly to the lyrics as you finish making your late night snack.

Baby, I’m yours

and I’ll be yours until the sun no longer shines

yours until the poets run out of rhyme

in other words, until the end of time

Joel leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his bare chest as he watches you carefully lick the remnants of peanut butter off of the knife you’re using before setting it down on the counter. You then pick up the two pieces of bread and slap them together—you’d also learned how to bake homemade bread using some old nineties cookbook you had found in the commune’s library. Your sourdough is the reason he had to go up a notch in his belt.

Sandwich in hand, you do a little spin, humming happily as you take your first bite.

Joel loudly clears his throat from the doorway.

Startled, you whirl around and freeze, your eyes wide.

“Enjoyin’ yourself there, darlin’?” He asks amusedly as he approaches you.

“Jesus Christ! You scared me, Joel!” You hiss at him. You then realize what time of night it is and a look of guilt crosses your features. “Oh shit. I’m sorry, did I wake you up? I honestly thought that I had the volume down low enough in here—”

Frowning, you turn around and reach towards the record player to turn the music off, but much to your surprise, Joel stops you. “No, s’okay. I woke up on my own,” he assures you. “I reached over for you and you were gone.” The admission slips before he can even think to stop it. He notices how taken aback you are by what he’d just said and quickly asks, “What’cha doin’ up so late, anyway?”

“I was hungry,” you tell him, sheepishly holding up your food. You always have one hell of an appetite after Joel was through fucking you senseless. You take another bite and offer it to him. “Want some?”

“Sure.”

He accepts and takes a corner of the sandwich before handing it back to you. His fingers brush against yours and his face burns at the contact.

Fucking Christ. 

You’re standing there in nothing but his fucking t-shirt after he had, yet again, made you his in his own fucking bed, and that’s what gets him?

Truth be told, the only time he holds your hand is when he’s inside of you—his fingers lace with your own as he comforts you and praises you for being such a good girl for taking his cock the way you do.

For being so, so fucking good for him.

He’s thought about taking your hand in front of others. Particularly when he notices the way some of the men in town stare at you. Joel wants to make it known that you’re already spoken for. Only, you’re not spoken for, not really. 

You’re his, but you’re not really his. It’s not that he doesn’t want to take the leap and acknowledge the two of you are far more than just patrol partners, far more than just two people who fought like fucking hell to get some smart assed teenager—and the world’s only hope for a cure—across the country.

He feels undeserving of it. Of you and your heart.

Several seasons had come and gone since you’d both arrived in Jackson with Ellie in tow, and somehow, Joel still can’t fathom what you’re doing by his side. She’s out of the house now and there’s nothing tying you to him, so why are you still here?

He’s so much older. Closer and closer to being on his way out, while you still had your entire life left ahead of you. He’s worn down, hardened from the post outbreak world. And you, you hadn’t lost any of your softness, your sweetness. Not even after the things you’d been forced to do to survive because of him.

You could meet someone younger, someone closer to your own age. You could marry, even start a family. You could be with someone who could give you a good life, the life you deserve.

The life that he’s too fucking broken to give you.

“Joel?” Your voice breaks into his thoughts. “Hey. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. M’fine.” He gestures to the record player with a nod of his head. “Y’know, this song’s older than me. By a few years. Came out in the early sixties.”

Joel half expects you to make some wisecrack joke and tease him over his age like you have done in the past—especially when the kid would get you going. Instead, he watches you set what’s left of your sandwich down and brush the crumbs from your hands before holding one of them out to him.

Confused, he stares at it for a moment before his dark eyes meet yours. “What are you doin’?”

“Dance with me,” you say, smiling at him.

“You’re fuckin’ kiddin’ me, right?” When he realizes you’re being serious, he shakes his head. “Y’know I don’t—I can’t dance.”

Dropping your hand back down to your side, you turn around and flip the record, starting the song over again before whirling back around and taking Joel’s hands in yours.

“Just follow my lead,” you tell him as you place them on your waist. Your own hands settle themselves on his broad shoulders, his skin warm beneath your fingertips. “Don’t overthink it.”

“You’re fuckin’ ridiculous,” Joel grumbles underneath his breath, however he finds himself moving along with you without further protest. Subconsciously, he pulls you closer against him as the two of you slowly sway from side to side along to the beat of the music. He chuckles, “Y’know we gotta be up at the asscrack of dawn for patrol, right?”

“And your point is?” You rest your head on his shoulder and exhale a soft, contended sigh.

Joel’s lips threaten to pull down once more.

Could it be that you’re actually content with him?

Head still on his shoulder, you sing along softly with Barbara Lewis. 

“I’m gonna stay right here by your side

do my best to keep you satisfied

nothing in this world can drive me away

‘cause every day you'll hear me say…”

It quickly becomes too much for him. Joel’s hands leave your waist. Taking your wrists, he tugs your arms from around his neck and gently pushes you away from him. “Why?” he finally asks the question that’s been hanging off the tip of his tongue for the better part of the last three years. “Why me?”

You stare at him, puzzled. “What?”

“Why me?” he repeats himself. “Why me when you can have anyone else—”

Your reply is prompt and you say it so simply.

“Because I don’t want anyone else.”

“You deserve better.”

You peer at him curiously. “I deserve better?”

“You do. Ain’t got no business being with someone like me. After all the terrible shit I’ve done—”

“I did the same exact shit, Joel. Sometimes I did even fucking worse.” Somehow, softness laces your tone. You have never been angry with him and you weren’t about to start now. “What makes my hands any cleaner than yours?”

Joel begins to sputter. “M’older than you. Much older. Should’a been a lot more careful. Should’a done more so you didn’t have to do those things.”

His hands still curled around your wrists, you reach up and gingerly cradle the sides of his face. He winces, but then quickly melts into your touch, the very same touch that could heal his wounds, if only he would allow it.

“I made my own choices,” you remind him, quietly. Neither of you realize the music has stopped. “Quit acting like blood doesn’t stain my hands too because it does.”

His lips press into a tight line. “Blood stains your hands ‘cause of me. S’my fault. I was responsible for you. I was s’pposed to take care of you. I didn’t protect you the way I should’ve.”

You sigh.

“When are you going to stop blaming yourself, Joel?”

The muscle in his jaw ticks as it clenches. He averts his gaze, his eyes falling to the floor. He doesn’t answer.

You stroke the scruff of his beard lightly with your thumbs. “When are you going to stop thinking you’re not good enough for me? What’s it going to take for me to prove to you that you are all I could ever need and want?”

“You’re just wastin’ your fuckin’ life on me, darlin’. S’the truth and you fuckin’ know it as well as I do.”

Pulling your wrists out of his hands, you pivot on your heel and suck in a sharp breath, stubbornly blinking back the tears stinging your eyes. You’re frustrated.

It cuts you to your very core to know the man you’ve grown to love more than anything and anyone else on what’s left of this fucking planet can’t see that he’s enough. He’s more than enough.

Joel bites back his own frustrated sigh. He knows he can’t rely on you to tell him, rely on the reassurance—he needs to do his part and believe it. If he keeps trying to push you away, he just may very well succeed one day. He will lose you.

After a moment, he walks up behind you and wraps his arms around you, his lips lightly brushing your neck. “M’sorry,” he mumbles, his own voice thickening as a lump forms in the back of his throat. He’s quick to swallow it down. “Jus’ have a hard time believin’ you’re mine. S’almost like my mind is lookin’ to prove me wrong.”

“But I am yours, Joel. I’m yours, I’m fucking yours.”

It’s more than just reassurance. It’s an oath, one you’ll honor for the rest of your life.

He holds you tighter. “Yeah?” He nips at the delicate spot right below your ear, his teeth scraping along tender flesh. “S’that right, baby? You’re all mine?”

“All yours,” you confirm breathlessly as his hands slowly begin trailing down the length of your sides, his fingers skimming the hem of his t-shirt.

Joel swiftly turns you around in his arms and slips his hand between your thighs. The next thing you know, he has you backed up against the counter and he’s shoving his sweatpants down, freeing his hard, thick cock. With one of your legs hooked around his waist, he buries himself into the warmth of your cunt and begins to deliver smooth, languid strokes.

“Say it again, baby,” he rasps into your neck. He coaxes your other leg up and around his waist and his large hands curl securely underneath your thighs as he bucks up into you. He’d deal with the back pain later. He pants, “Need—need to hear you say it, my sweet girl.”

You hold onto the countertop behind you as he fucks you, your fingernails digging into the laminated wood. “Fuck, I’m yours,” you moan into his shoulder. “I’m all yours, Joel. Oh fuck—”

You say it over and over again and he believes it.

He finally fucking believes it.

Sweet nothings fall from his lips with each thrust.

“S’lucky you’re all fuckin’ mine.”

“My beautiful, beautiful girl.”

“Gonna keep you for the rest of my fuckin’ life.”

When he spills into you, there’s no regret on his part nor yours. You’d always wanted to feel him come inside of you—secretly, so did he. Joel’s deep, guttural groans bounce off of the kitchen walls as your pussy fills with him, with all of him, taking as much as it can before he begins leaking out of you and down the insides of your thighs.

“Jesus,” he exhales. He dips his head for a kiss. “You’re all messy now, baby,” he mumbles against your lips. “How’s about we go upstairs and get back into bed so I can clean you up?”

Giggling, you mimic him and remind him of what he’d said earlier. “Y’know we gotta be up at the asscrack of dawn for patrol, right?”

Joel grins. “And your point is?”

You laugh again as he leads you out of the kitchen and back up to his bedroom—to yours and his bedroom.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller drabble #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #joel fic

[jamiedc-they-them]

Being Joel's Surviving Child and an Older Sibling to Ellie Part II

Link to Part I

CW: Normal last of us violence, swearing. Mentions of suicidal thoughts. Bunch of angst. Also, a long one!

So, five years. A lot of can happen in five years.

You’ve almost, almost, gone back to how you used to be. Normal. A citizen rather than a survivor.

You’re more relaxed.

It’s not constant, twenty years of surviving isn’t something you just forget and move on from in an instant.

Your family understands that.

Tommy takes you out on hunts sometimes. It’s a good bonding experience with your uncle.

He has your help with organising patrols. These are the main times you see Ellie. Other than teaching her how to shoot.

It’s nice seeing your sister, though she is more distant.

You just put it up to age. She’s growing and changing, becoming more independent, so she distances herself more because of that.

You and Sarah had sort of done that before…everything.

In a way, you’re envious.

Still though, you just keep going on.

You help out with the town.

Joel checks in every so often. But after a certain period, you can’t quite remember how long into those five years it is, he does it almost all the time.

He acts differently. Softer. 

“Something wrong?” you ask.

“I’m alright, kiddo. Just…feeling my age is all. Do you, uh, do you wanna come over later? Found that sequel. Curtis and Viper 2. ”

“No way?! Hell yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Alright, kiddo. Sounds like a plan.”

You notice Ellie’s absence. You don’t question it, though. Her and Dina have been talking lately. From the brief interaction you had with the girl, she was sweet. She was kind to Ellie, as was Jessie. You liked that they had a little group.

When you next see Ellie before a patrol, you talk to her.

“Didn’t see you at Dad’s last night.”

She turns to you, but you can tell she’s more tense now, “Oh, shit. Yeah, sorry. I was out with Dina and Jessie,” she does sound genuinely apologetic. You miss the mistrust in her eyes. It flickers only for as second, but you still miss it.

“It’s cool,” you say, waving it off, “just be careful, yeah?” 

“Always am,” she assures, putting her pack on her horse and mounting up, letting you take them outside the stables, “besides, with your training, how could I go wrong?” 

“Exactly,” she chuckles at your response, “Just…talk to each other, yeah? Whatever it is.”

She sighs. She wishes it was that simple, but she tells you she will.

She loves you, but doesn’t like you meddling sometimes. Joel too.

Sometimes, you’ll take her on a run. Or one of her friends.

It’s through this, you get the idea that someone has a crush. Dina asks you things about Ellie; favourite food and what not.

You don’t always have the answers, but you do have an idea of what is going on.

You don’t pressure Dina or her on it. Though you do ask one about the other every now and then to try to gauge it and push them to admit their feelings.

You were never into the whole love thing, so this is not your field. But they are adorable, the pair. Jessie is a good friend. Loyal. He opens up a bit more to you. He’s funny, too. Casual. Good person.

Brings out your lighter side.

Seth isn’t an awful guy, but is a homophobe. 

Ellie seems to have a six sense with you, despite the distance she’s caused, and always finds you before anything bad happens.

Her own blood boils when he calls you a “queer” in an insulting way. But she always drags you back, keeping herself between you and him. Her eyes on you as she forces you not to make a scene.

This happens with a few other troubling people in the town.

She also gives you a place to crash when you want to, or are drunk. You do that a bit. Trying to tame the loudness in your head.

It worries her, but she’s gentle. If you ever wake up from a nightmare and are around her’s, she wakes you up. 

“It’s ok, Y/N. It’s ok. It was just a dream. I’m here. I’m here,” she puts a hand to your cheek, “I’ve got you.”

Sometimes she’ll stay with you. Sometimes you both stay up together. Sometimes she sits with you until you drift off, looking at your gentle form, before going to bed, wishing she could stop whatever is plaguing you.

You’re her sibling, older sure, but she loves you.

Sadly, she never gets a chance to ask you, as she soon is plagued by similar nightmares. 

A golf club kills your father, and she had no choice but to watch.

Dina arrives before you, Jessie being the one who fetched you when Joel didn’t come back.

Dina gets Ellie up and out, but Jessie sees you frozen, just staring at your father. Or what’s left of him.

He sees your fist start leaking blood. You don’t notice. Your eyes are glassy, but no tears fall.

You’ve shut down.

You don’t even register him leading you away. Mentally, you’re still there.

Maria visits you.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says, sitting next to you on your bed, “C’mere.”

She tries to hug you, but you lean away. 

You stand up, arms crossed, facing away from her.

“What’s that?” she prompts, not hearing what you said just then.

“It should’ve been me,” you say, a bit louder.

“Y/N. No. No, it, no it shouldn’t of been.”

“He’s dead.”

“I know…” 

“He’s dead…”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

She goes to hug you, or try and help, but you scream, back away, and then run from your room and out of your house, tears be damned.

Dina hears you sprinting, just seeing you as you trip over trying to get into the cemetery.

“Shit,” she says, going to help you up, “hey, Y/N. Hey!” she’s gentle, but you flinch at her loudness, “Look at me,” you do, eyes frantic. She hates her friend in pain like this, “I have you. I -”

“I need him,” her heart breaks. You sound like a scared child - she doesn’t blame you, this is a horrible situation - and not the late thirties person that you are.

You sob, putting your head in your hands as you just break completely.

You then fall back in the snow.

“Sarah would’ve been able to control herself. She would’ve stopped this.”

“Y/N,” Dina crouches near you, ignoring the cold, “you aren’t expected to just control this. There’s no precedent for this.”

“Sarah was. Henry and Sam were. Tess was.”

“They weren’t your fault.”

“Then whose were they?” 

She doesn’t have time to answer you, as Ellie clears her throat.

Ellie moves to you, her too crouching down, “I’m so sorry,” she says, voice raw, “I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N.”

Despite what Dina just tried to get you to understand for yourself, you impart it to Ellie, “It’s not your fault, El. It’s not your fault.”

Dina hates what this has done to you both. Broken you both. Her girlfriend and friend who looked out for her.

You both go to Joel’s house, and she waits outside for you both.

“Can…can you…” Ellie can’t finish her words.

Wordlessly, you nod, opening the door and going inside. 

You’re both slow, looking around.

You even find the copy of Curtis and Viper 2, you let out a choked laugh at it.

Ellie takes the revolver, but hands you the watch.

“I think…I think he’d want you to have this.”

 You take it, and put it on your arm. It fits you just as well as it fit him.

You look at your little sister. He’s gone, so you have to step up.

You go where she goes. That’s your job: you protect, you guide, you support.

Maria isn’t happy with Tommy going, and tells you guys to go get him.

Before you leave, Maria stops you.

“Please make sure you come back too, Y/N, ok?” 

You nod, “you can count on it.”

She doesn’t think she’s ever been more scared of you. The flicker in your eye. The crazed look of someone on the edge of breaking completely, and with one more promise on the line.

It’s the look of someone who will do all they can for that promise. No matter the cost.

As said before, she’d heard the stories of what you and Joel did to survive, how you were so young and lost your soul in the name of survival and control.

The last five years had seen you return to normal. 

That had now been taken.

So, off you go to Seattle. 

You tell them all the memories of this place you can remember. From small trips and what not. Dina paints a picture of Sarah in her mind as you describe your actions with your twin. 

Randomly, small facts come back to you about the place. They’re always impressed by your vast knowledge (you doubt a lot of it is true, but there are one or two you know are facts).

Then you’re brought back to how the world is with them asking you how old you were in your first kill.

The age gap between you and them is shown, as you try to water it down. You tell yourself it’s to protect them, but really it’s just to protect yourself.

“We’re old enough to know, Y/N,” your sister says, “or are you forgetting about David?” 

The words sting. Ellie regrets them. You just ride on ahead.

“Who’s David?” Dina asks.

“An arsehole. He’s dead now.”

“Did he do something to you?” 

“Tried to. But he also made he break a promise I made to Y/N.”

“And what’s that?” 

“Doesn’t matter now.”

Dina nods, respecting the boundary. It makes her miss her sister more, having inside secrets that friends wouldn’t know.

When it comes to climbing, Ellie goes, joking about your age and your back. It brings her back to simpler times.

“Did I do something to make her upset?” you ask Dina as you wait for Ellie to open the gate.

“Oh. No, I don’t think so. She didn’t say anything to me about something like that. Why?” 

“Just…I don’t know.”

“You’re not gonna lose her, Y/N,” she assures.

“I thought I wouldn’t lose my dad, either,” it’s a cheap shot, and she knows it’s not being fired at her, but she still flinches at it, “sorry,” you say.

She nods, “it’s ok,” though there is hurt in her voice.

Ellie shows you the map, handing it to you every now and then to double check where you’ve been and haven’t been. Sure, things are marked on and off, but she doubts herself a bit. 

Dina moves past the awkwardness between you both, listening as you and Ellie swap stories about Joel.

Dina is happy to hear them, at least you both aren’t completely drowning, you’re keeping each other afloat, and she’s glad to be of assistance in that. 

Dina opens up to you both about being Jewish. You always liked the idea of a god, but never believed yourself. Especially not after the apocalypse, but the hope it gave her was something you understood.

Ellie was that hope for you. If she was alive, and happy, you were happy. 

If what was left of your family was ok, you were ok.

That was why you had to make this right. Make it mean something.

When it comes to combat, you take the lead. Giving them orders. It makes it seem more controllable that way.

Most times, it goes wrong, with you having to adapt, but the feeling it gives you before that keeps you going.

Ellie and you are a deadly duo, Dina notes. Able to read each other’s minds and actions. You seem to forget Dina is there for a moment, your soul focus being on your sister. 

One time, with you all being pinned down, you shot someone who was going to sneak up on Ellie, only for Dina to take a hit.

You helped patch up her wound, but avoided her eyes.

She doesn’t want to hold it against you. You’re her friend, and Ellie’s sibling. You’ve been good to her on runs. You were honest with her about things. While she knows she’d be like this had her sister still be alive, but it does scare her what it can do. 

Yes, she’s following you because she cares about you both, but she’s also scared for you both. What you’ll do. How you’ll do it. What you’ll lose in the process.

Ellie is taken, and you don’t talk the entire way to rescue her. Dina follows, and sees how good at tracking you actually are. 

Dina is shot through the roof, and one bullet catches you. You lay on the roof.

Ellie shouts up to you, telling you to “find another way to get this fuckers!” 

You hesitate, and she seems to tell, “Go!” She yells, “trust me!” 

You do, but you can’t find another way in. Your heart hammers, hearing only the chaos inside.

They’re out of your sight. What if they get hurt? What if they die? You lose more of your family?

You reunite outside, and you check them numerous times for injuries. 

“We’re fine. We’re fine, Y/N. Look, look! No wounds,” she shows you. You just pull them both in for a hug. 

Ellie remembers Joel doing that at the hospital…though she doesn’t push away this time, not wanting to raise suspicion or confront you on it just yet. She doesn’t want to lose you too.

You find more images, and one of the people from the photos is dead. 

Dina looks to you, “What the fuck have we gotten involved in?” 

“I don’t know,” you say, honestly, “but we just need Abby.”

“Y/N, this is insane. What if they already got her?”

“They wouldn’t have,” Ellie says.

“How do you know?” Dina challenges.

“Gut feeling.”

Dina looks to you.

“Let’s go,” is all you say.

Ellie’s secret comes out about the immunity, and you all barely escape with your lives intact and make it to the theatre. 

Dina reveals she may be pregnant and Ellie snaps. You don’t follow her, instead, you sit with Dina. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she says.

“I get it,” you say, “it’s scary. Especially in a world like this.”

“Do you think it would be ok? Even after all this?”

“It will.”

“You can’t promise that Y/N,” she hopes you’re right, but is being more real about it.

“I can. I can,” you say, nodding, but you look away right after.

She nods once, before laying down. 

You find yourself falling asleep on the floor. You dream about Sarah.

Ellie remembers the birthday gift you and Joel gave her. That was a good day. A day of your bonds being the strongest.

You have a memory of a time when she fixed something, some dickhead bully. He never bothered you again.

You wish that either she was here instead of you, or you could do what she could.

Ellie wakes you up, nervously asking if you can come with her.

“We’ll make sure Dina is safe. I just…can we go together, Y/N? Please?”

You nod, leaving with her. Dina just asks you both to be careful.

It’s quiet, at the start as you both set off on your journey to find Tommy.

“Did I do something?” You ask as you search a store.

“What?” 

“Did I do something?” 

“No,” she says, not completely lying. 

“Is there a reason you and dad weren’t talking as much? Was it the party?”

“Mostly.”

“‘Mostly’?”

“It’s complicated,” it both is and isn’t true.

“You can talk to me, you know?” 

She wants to more than anything, but that would be - potentially - driving away the one piece of this family she has left that has been with her through so much.

“I will, ok? Just, give me time?” 

You want to press her on it, it sounds bad. Especially if it drove your sister and father apart. But, to keep her happy enough, you find yourself saying the one thing that can do that:

“Ok.” 

Ellie and you find the archery statue. She holds it up and turns to you.

“People cared about this stuff?” 

“Sure, sometimes.”

“You think this thing was worth a lot?”

You chuckle, “not money-wise, no. Thing was probably cheap as anything. But, sentimentally? Yeah, definitely.”

“Why’s that?”

“Made people feel valued. Wanted. Like they actually accomplished something.”

“This little thing did that?”

“A lot of things can do that.”

She nods, but can understand what you really mean. It’s why you’re here after all.

It makes her feel valued. Less alone. 

She does have to admit, seeing you not drowning or shutting down in your grief as you had before was a genuine relief to her.

But, she does know you. She’s known you for like six years at this point.

She can see it’s getting to you. 

You look at the blood on your knuckles more. You check in with her more. Making sure she is ok.

She tries to with you, but you just turn it around on her.

With Jessie, you drive. She rides shotgun, and Jessie sits in the middle. You almost die, but you’re just thankful Ellie learnt how to swim.

Dina and Jessie reunite. You see Ellie walk off, you watch the friends and exes reunite.

“Look, Jessie, I -“

“It’s cool, Y/N. Really. I’m not angry.”

“You’re not?” You did sort of go into this whole thing thinking he would. Though, maybe that was just because of the shows Sarah made you watch when younger.

He chuckles, “Yeah, all good. I mean, it’s a lot. But, Dina and Ellie are my friends. I want them to be happy. Their problems, are my problems.”

“That’s a sweet way to live, kid.”

“You’re my friend too, you know.”

“I’m older.”

“So?”

“I take on more problems for everyone. It’s my job.”

“That’s not healthy,” where’d he read that?

“We ain’t in a healthy world.”

Ellie has a mostly good memory of you, the strings incident. Well, good with you anyway, though at that point you had started to catch onto something being wrong. Still, you like that your dad is trying now with the comics. He and you had even had some discussions.

With the Bloater, you just held Ellie in your arms as Joel took it down.

With the couple and the lie you’ve both spun to her, you’re silent while Joel doubles down on it. She’s catching on, and you don’t like that.

Reminders of the lie you told her about being there.

Whenever you remember a birthday, you ignore that bit. You just remember the dinosaur.

With the strings, you focus on the bloater part and the comics.

With the sewers, it’s you who goes out the window. She doesn’t even think before jumping in to try to find you.

You drag her out of the water.

“What were you thinking?!” 

“Me?! What the fuck were you thinking?!” 

“I had to protect you, El!”

“You scared me! I thought you were dead, you arsehole!” 

She hits you in the shoulder, and then you both take pause. 

You’re both disturbed by the Seraphites.

“You think we should have a code like that?” She asks you as you make your way through a building.

“Would be useful,” you admit, “maybe you learning to whistle weren’t for nothing.”

She gives a humoured scoff. But she’s glad you can still have these moments.

She’s glad she hasn’t lost you. She just hates that internally she adds a ‘yet’ to that.

Before the camp, however, she turns to you, “I need to do this on my own.” 

“What?” 

“Look, there could to spores in there. And I don’t want you getting infected.”

“The fuck are you talking about, Ellie? We stick together.”

“Do you trust me?” 

It seems like you hesitate, but really she sees you weighing up the options in your head.

You nod.

“Hey,” she grabs your hand with hers, “I’m coming back, ok? With that bitches head. I promise,” she squeezes your hand.

You look one more time to the camp, then back to your sister. 

“I don’t like this.”

“I’ve got this,” she says. Your eyes soften at her echoing words.

You nod a tiny bit. You know she does.

You make your way back to the theatre.

“Y/N…” Dina says when she sees you, “Oh. Oh, god, is Ellie…” 

“No,” you say, instantly, “No. She’s fine. Just thought she should go alone. Spores and whatnot. Don’t exactly have my mask.”

“You sure it’s a good idea to leave her on her own?” Jessie asks. He means well, but he is also their age.

“She’s got this,” you assure her friends, “she’s tougher than you think.”

“I know that,” he says, “it’s just…with her state of mind.”

“I’m worried about her too. But, I’d be no use to her dead.”

“To any of us, Y/N,” you smile a little at Dina’s words. 

“So, what do we do?” Jessie asks.

“We wait for her to come back. I’ll, uh, give you two some space to talk about the whole…kid, thing.” You clear your throat, doing that.

Ellie returns when you’re asleep. Jessie wakes you up.

“Where is she?” 

“With Dina,” you get up, and Jessie knows what your plan is, “I think we should just leave them for tonight. Dina’s got her.”

“I could help.”

“I’m not saying you can’t,” despite the almost twenty year gap between you both, he seems to be the more mature one at times, “but you don’t need to smother her.”

Your eyes look dangerous when you look at him, “I ain’t.”

“I’d follow you, Joel, Ellie, or Dina anywhere, Y/N. But, Y/N, there’s gotta be a line where you walk away.”

“Not with her. Not with this.”

“I know Joel was a good man; he was a good father to you both. But, look, Dina’s pregnant. We aren’t exactly going to find her help out here, are we? And I know, you wanna help Ellie; but…she’ll listen to you.”

You go to check on your sister, she shivers, her wounds making you sick. 

You sit next to her, and move the cover she has over her a bit more. She flinches a bit. You mule over Jessie’s words.

You go with them, giving Dina a bottle of water, and leaving too.

However, you then see how high the water is out there. And you see Ellie’s plan to steal the boat.

Jessie starts to back away. Ellie then looks to you

“Not you too,” she says. Damn it, she knows you too well.

“El -”

“Don’t do that. Please don’t fucking do that.”

“I just think –”

“I didn’t think you’d leave me too.

“I’m not –”

Guys,” Jessie tries to interject, noticing your voices going up a notch in volume. You hold your hand up to silence him, then gesture with your hand to lower the volume. Even in her pissed off state, she agrees to that.

“I thought you’d have my back on this,” she says, quieter.

“I have your back. Really, I do. But I’m gonna have to pull rank on this and –”

“‘Rank’?” 

“I’m the older sibling. I have to look out for you.”

“Then do that by coming with me on that fucking boat. If we fall in, we can both make it back to the boat. I need you to trust me.”

“And I need you to listen to me.”

“They killed, Joel. What if it was me?”

“That’s not fair.”

“If it was you, you would want us to try, at least.”

“I wouldn’t know, would I?” you take a breath, “we should just go home. Ok?” 

“You go, then. I’ll see you there later,” you open your mouth to argue, but she beats you to it, “fuck off then, coward.”

The words sting. You want to say more, to try and get her to see the way things are going. But you realise, maybe too late, that you can’t stop her. You can’t control her.

Jessie says what is on your mind:

“I really hope you make it.”

He respects your silence on the way back to the theatre.

You don’t explain to Dina, you just go to your own little space.

“Are they ok?” Dina asks Jessie.

“Ellie and them had a fight.”

“Oh…” she says, looking to the stairs, “should we go check on them?”

“No. No, I think they need some time alone, you know? I don’t think they’ve really had time to unpack everything.”

“None of us have,” it had only been a few days after all.

“That’s true. But, he was Y/N’s dad.”

“You know, at first, I thought Y/N was Ellie’s dad.”

“Yeah?” Dina chuckles a bit.

“Yeah. I mean, you seen how protective they both are…were, over her?” 

“Y/N still is.”

“Yeah…” Jessie looks to the stairs too, “that’s what scares me.”

Jessie leaves on a quick patrol of the area and finds Tommy. He brings him back.

You come down and see your Uncle in the first time in what seems like forever.

“Hey, kid,” he says to you.

He doesn’t get a warm welcome, instead, he gets shoved. Then slapped.

“You left, your goddamn wife! She’s worried sick about you, Tommy!”

“I know, I know,” he says, but you don’t stop there.

“You could’ve died, and we wouldn’t of known. You fucking idiot!” 

The younger two have never heard you so loud. Not even when fighting Seth.

“I KNOW!” Tommy roars, “They killed my brother! I had to try, Y/N! I had to do something.”

“And how’d that fucking go?” you sneer.

“I saw her,” he says, “I saw the bitch that killed her.”

“Yeah? Where’s her head?”

Tommy looks almost ashamed, looking at the ground as he answers you, “she had a kid with her. They beat me. Almost drowned.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t. I’m glad you didn’t, Uncle Tommy.”

He nods, “Me too, kid.”

It’s then, you hug him.

Time goes on a bit longer before Tommy and him decide to leave to find Ellie. They hear on the radio about the Aquarium. 

Dina is the one who asks you to stay, “please. I don’t want to be alone. I’m scared.” 

You tell the other two to go and stay with Dina.

You keep her drinking water. Try and keep her as well as you can.

She falls asleep, and you try your best to get her to bed ok, though she does stir awake at one point. But, only slightly, she falls back to sleep pretty easily. You get her in bed, trying to get her comfortable.

You don’t exactly envy her situation, especially given how hard it would’ve been in the old world. This new one just added more challenges. 

Still, you wanted to help. Just how was the question?

You hear the door close and cautiously see who it is.

It’s your friends.

You see Ellie, eyes distant and scared.

“Hey. Hey, what happened?” you ask, moving on from the words exchanged earlier.

You look to Tommy, he shakes his head: not now.

“Do you wanna go see Dina?” she nods, “Ok, kiddo. Ok. I’ll take you to her.”

You’re slow with your movements, moving at her pace.

When she sees Dina, she is less tense. You let her go, and she goes to Dina, laying down next to her and moving some hair back. 

You close the door gently, before going downstairs.

“So, you wanna tell me what happened?” 

“One of the girls she killed,” Tommy pauses, puts his head in his hands, and pushes his hair back, “she was pregnant, Y/N.”

“Jesus,” is all you can say as you sit on the stage. 

“Yeah,” is all Tommy can say as he sits next to you. He then looks around the theatre.

“You remember when you and Sarah came here?” 

You smile a bit, “yeah. Or, well, somewhere like here.”

“Nope. Pretty sure it was here,” you have no idea if he’s fucking with you or not.

You narrow your eyes at him a bit.

“I’m serious,” he says, “can’t remember what we saw, mind. But, it was right here we saw it.”

“Hm. Quite the legacy,” you admire.

“Ain’t it just.” 

A quiet few moments go by.

“I think we should go home,” you say.

Tommy nods, “Yeah. Though, not exactly looking forward to Maria kicking my arse.”

“Yeah, well, I ain’t gonna be able to help with that.”

“Maybe I’ll use you as a shield.”

“As if she’d let you,” you say, “She loves me.”

“I’d like to think she loves me more.”

“Uh-uh, told me herself.”

“Did she now?” 

“Oh yeah.”

It’s nice, this moment of normalcy.

“Go get some rest kid, we got a long trip tomorrow.”

“Guess you’re right,” you say, standing up and stretching, “night, Uncle Tommy.”

“Night, kid.”

You don’t sleep too long. Your instincts tell you something is going on.

You go to the main lobby and see Tommy on the floor, an arrow in his leg.

“Hands up,” you say, pointing your pistol at…shit, it’s Abby. And the kid Tommy mentioned.

“Y/N, run!” Tommy calls out.

“I ain’t leaving you,” you say to him, keeping your eyes on your father’s murderer.

“It’s you,” Abby says in realisation, “you’re the one who Marlene took as bait for…for him.” 

“You took him from me,” you spit.

“And yours took mine. Now you know how it feels.”

“We just gonna stare at each other?” 

“Not if you move. You’re not on my list. The girl is who I want.”

“So you can run more tests? There ain’t no cure.” 

“No. No, the cure is long dead. On that, we can agree.”

“I’m not letting you get my sister.”

She steps a bit closer, gun aimed up a bit, “Then I’ll take you both. I don’t care.”

You look to the boy, “You found the one good Seraphite?” 

“Just as quick as the rest.”

“Ok then,” you say, putting your gun down, hands raised, “then take me.”

“NO!” Tommy shouts, getting a kick in the gut.

“Maybe I would’ve,” she admits, “but not anymore. You’ve both taken too much from me. All you had to do, was stop. To get her to stop.”

You go to say something, but the door bursts open.

A few gunshots go off. You ignore the burning sensation on your body, and instead, try and deal with the one at your throat, the arm Abby has around it crushing your available air.

“Come on out! Or this one’s next!” Abby calls out.

“Ok. Fuck!” Ellie throws her gun away, standing up, hands raised, “you did this because of me, right? Because they both saved me? It’s me, I’m the one you want. Just let them go, ok?” 

Abby presses the gun into your head, “we let you live,” she says to Ellie.

“I’ll let you live,” Abby says to you, “but I swear, if I see you again, I will kill you.”

Your world then goes dark. But you hear your sister yell out your name.

You wake up to silence. 

Your vision goes double. You vomit on the floor.

Once on your feet, you slowly make your way down the theatre. You wished for music. You wished for something. Some sound to signal life.

You get backstage, and see a hole in the floor. You don’t even think before dropping down it. It doesn’t help your vision or unsteady legs. Shaking your head and getting to your feet once again, you’re greeted with your sister, coughing blood on the floor, and Dina bleeding from her head, unconscious. 

You go to your younger sister, fall down and hover over her. She just coughs more.

You don’t know what to do. You just put her head in your lap, running your hand through her hair.

If this is it, then so be it.

You go to sleep, not expecting to wake up again.

You do, and Ellie is quietly saying your name.

You look down, an unknown amount of time having passed.

“Are….are you…?” 

“Here. Present. Alive.” you say.

“Dina…” You look to your friend. Gently putting Ellie back down, you turn Dina over. The baby bump looks ok. You get some cloth and put it on her head.

“I think the baby’s ok.” 

Ellie lets out another cough, this seems to be her attempt at a sigh of relief.

How you get out, you can’t remember. But you do.

Ellie leaves Jackson. But you’ve already gone before then.

You can’t deal with all the looks from everyone. And what you gather to be a disappointed look from Maria when you bring Tommy in.

You aren’t far from it, instead just living in the woods.

You go to the same part of the water you went to clean yourself in after Henry and Sam died. You don’t really care you’re stealing the Jackson community water technically, you just use it.

You figure this will all help clear your head. It’s neutral. 

Maria comes to visit you, bringing some extra supplies. You just thank her.

She updates you on Tommy. Even tells you they split.

You just give her your condolences and go back to your little hobbit existence. Just you and a tent.

The final time Maria visits you, it’s to ask for you to go with Tommy. He wants to visit Ellie.

“I think she could use your company, too.”

Maria is still family; as is Tommy; as is Ellie.

You have to pick up the load now that Maria shares.

“Ok,” you say, voice croaky from a few months of disuse.

“Thank you,” she says. You nod.

She smiles a bit, happy that you’re somewhat in good standing with each other.

Tommy tries to make conversation with you, but you ignore him the whole ride down.

You help him off his horse and send him up the stairs first to the door.

You take in the place. It’s got a nice view. They’ve done well for themselves.

Dina greets you warmly.

“Hey, Y/N,” she says, giving you a hug.

“Hey, hon,” you say, hugging her back.

She takes a look at you, looking at your face and moving it around with her hands, “you had it rough, huh?” her voice is soft, unjudging.

“Sort of?” you say, unsure of how else to answer.

“Well, sit down. We’ll get you cleaned up.”

Then Ellie comes in, with a baby. 

She pauses at seeing you both, but a whole flood of emotions comes to her when she locks eyes with you.

“Hey,” is all she can get out.

“Hey,” you say.

It’s all going ok. Then Abby is mentioned again, and the mood turns sour.

“Oh, for fucks sake,” you say, hand going down your face.

“Now, don’t you fucking start –” Tommy starts to say.

“We ain’t doing this, Tom. You said you wanted to talk to her.”

“I am,” he protests, though does note your lack of ‘Uncle’ being used, “that’s all we doing.”

“Is it hell,” you say, trying to not teach the kid bad words this early. Like your dad did with you and Sarah.

“Oh, so now you wanna talk, huh?” Tommy challenges.

“We ain’t doing this here. Especially not in front of the kid,” you say, pointing to JJ. He grabs you finger, cooing as he moves it around. You move a bit closer, hand going through his hair, as your eyes stay on Tommy.

“Can you hold him?” Dina asks. You do. He complains at first, being away from his mother, but settles into you in the next moment. Dina takes Tommy outside.

“You’re a natural,” Ellie says, somewhat brightly. You start to rock from side to side gently as JJ settles even more, head on your shoulder.

“Yeah. Somehow,” you joke. Ellie scoffs humorously. 

“I’m glad you’re ok,” she means it.

“Ditto,” as do you.

The silence is awkward, and you see her eyes go to the map.

“Don’t,” you say, “don’t mess this up.” At ‘this’ you swirl your finger around the area.

“Ok,” she says. You look into her eyes that flicker down to the map every so often. You’re looking for signs of bullshit. You find some. You just don’t say anything.

“Ok,” you say.

Tommy leaves, but you stay the night. You get to know your nephew a bit more. He’s lively.

Dina and Ellie both show you around the farm. The sheep are nice. They help calm you down. Even JJ loves petting them.

Dinner is nice. They can both cook. You both even dance a bit. Just minus bigots being there, even better!

Then comes to bed. They show you your bedroom. You thank them and head in.

Early in the morning, you head downstairs, taking the map and putting it in your bag.

“What are you doing?” Ellie asks, coming downstairs, Joel's jacket over her shoulders.

“Trying, one last time.”

“To do what?”

“To stop you from this spiral being complete.”

“I’m not spiralling, Y/N. I’m hurting, and I don’t know how to make it stop.”

You sigh, sitting down, “You know, back in the old world, they had things called therapists. You ever heard of them?” she shakes her head, “they’d talk to you, try to help you find a way through. I’m sure there are some who would fit that role your age without knowing the turn, or just people my age who became them, but the talking bit I can do.”

“I don’t want to talk. Give me the map.”

“So you can run off and get killed?” 

“I won’t get killed.”

“How’s that?”

“You and Joel showed me how to survive.”

“And anyone can get a lucky shot in. I mean, Christ, look at Tommy, a bullet through the head should’ve killed him.”

“But he’s still alive. And so are you. I don’t want anyone else to almost die because of me.” you can hear the slight crack in her voice.

You know you could keep doing this with her. Going in circles. Your own spiral.

But, you’ve drained yourself.

So, you stand up, and take the map out of the bag. 

You see Dina peak from around the corner, but you’re quick in your eyes going back to Ellie, who is watching you, eyes glassy, and tense.

You approach her, and put the map into her hand, “I love you, Ellie. Far as I’m concerned, you’re my blood,” you grab her face in your hands, “You always will be, ok? But, if you do this, I won’t be here when you get back.”

Either timeline her brain cooks up as to that meaning scares her.

“Ok,” she says, even as her voice wobbles and tears threaten to fall. She takes the map and goes to her bag. You hear her sniffle from the kitchen.

You turn to Dina, and knock your head to the kitchen. She goes down. You sit on the chair in the living room as they share a goodbye.

Dina then comes back, you hug her. You hear the back door close. Ellie seemingly didn’t want to confront you again.

“What…what happens now?” Dina asks you in hiccups.

You kiss her head, “well, I’m gonna get some supplies from Jackson, and go back to my little home.”

“Can you…can you help me move some things back there, please?”

You hug her a bit tighter, “course, kiddo.”

“Thank you,” she says as you pull apart.

You smile down at her, “you’re family,” is all you say.

The three of you head to Jackson, you help Dina set up in her room. 

“Thank you. I mean it. Please visit, that’s all I ask. Don’t do that other way out. Please.”

You sadly smile at her, “I’ll do my best on the last part. I’ll swing by, though. Promise.”

“Ok…ok,” she hugs you again.

“I think you would’ve liked my sister,” she says, voice muffled by her shirt.

“Bet I would’ve,” you agree.

You go back to your tent; luckily, nothing has happened to it. 

You go on a hunt and start skinning your deer. You hear a twig snap, and a quiet “shit” from the person you know who broke it.

You continue skinning, then start cooking. Ellie takes a seat on the log.

You look at her, seeing her casual clothing, and that she’s missing two fingers.

You don’t say anything. She watches you, eyes going to the fire every so often, fingers playing with themselves. 

Wordlessly, you hold out a small cup of water. She takes it, and drinks from it, before handing it back to you.

It is then replaced with some meat.

She eats, then looks back to the water.

She feels something hit her feet. Looking down, she sees a sleeping back. Looking back up, she sees you trying to do another tent. 

She finishes her food, and approaches you, “I’ve got it,” her voice quiet, drained, hurt.

You don’t look at her as you go with your own food. 

“Can you help me, please?” she asks. You pause, putting your food back into the bowl, before getting up and helping to finish her tent.

“Thank you,” she says. You nod, before finishing your meal.

You then set up your sound traps.

“Is that like Bill’s?” she asks.

“Yup,” you answer.

“Cool,” she says.

You just nod.

Once they’re done, you retire to bed yourself.

Ellie stays up, just looking at the fire, then down at her fingers that can no longer play the guitar.

She goes into her tent. The bed isn’t too uncomfortable. Yet she’s still restless.

She hears you snore a bit from the tent diagonal from her.

She shuts her eyes. In her mind’s eye is one of you, her, and Joel having a snowball fight. It’s nice. Warm. Fuzzy. Happy.

You have a dream of Sarah. Of one time of you both comforting each other after a sad film, just holding each other and crying. It’s sad but comforting. 

The dream changes, Ellie comes and sits next to you, and a new movie starts: Curtis and Viper 2.

You all pull up the shared blanket.

It’s a dream, you know that.

Yet you find comfort in it.

It drowns out what’s actually happened. What’s actually been lost.

The illusion will shatter as soon as you wake, as it always does.

But you hope you can dream a bit longer.

Escape the broken bonds you have to go back to at some point.

The sad existence you live.

The emptiness you feel.

The one your sister has too.

Maybe you can overcome it, one day.

But you both know that day is far away.

And it terrifies you both…

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x platonic!reader #ellie williams x you #last of us imagine #last of us x reader #ellie williams imagine #platonic!reader #platonic reader

[talaok]

Like a Virgin

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

summary: It's been a really long time since Joel has felt the feel of anything else besides his own fist, and once you remind him how good the real thing is... let's just say it's hard for him to live up to his full potential.

warnings: smut| unprotected p in v sex, premature ejaculation, very touch-starved Joel, and allusion to oral sex (f receiving)

a/n: I don't know what to say lmao this is a thing for me ok, don't judge (and also you can't tell me this isn't accurate, like this man hasn't gotten laid since the moon landing probably, and you expect him to last? no way babe). Also I'm sorry about the title it's funny to me lol

Now this wasn't like him.

He hadn't done this in a long time.

The last time he had sex with a woman he'd just met (or any woman to be completely honest) he was 25 years younger and the world hadn't gone to shit yet... so yeah, a long time indeed.

But you were so fucking beautiful, such a pretty face with such pretty eyes, and god but that mouth of yours-

And plus you were new to Jackson, you didn't know yet about all the scary stories folks liked to tell about him, and you were kind and funny, and... did he mention hot already?

Just one night of letting loose, that's what he'd told himself, and then he was gonna go back to his old closed-off self, but for now... for now, he was too busy throwing you on his bed to think about anything else.

You were getting rid of your clothes and he followed your lead more than willingly, almost ripping the buttons off his flannel in the rush.

He bent down to kiss your neck as his hands hurried to your tits.

God, he'd forgotten how good it felt to touch a woman.

And when you let out a little whimper, he swore he had ascended to another universe.

"Joel please"

Fuck him, but he wasn't inside of you yet, and he was already feeling far too close to coming.

Guess fucking his own fist for two decades really does something to a man.

"need something?"

He was acting wayy too smug for someone who was feeling like a virgin all over again.

"Please- I need you inside me, Joel"

fucking damnit- he shouldn't have asked that, his dick was now really suffering the consequences.

He didn't risk saying anything else as he got rid of his boxers, but of course, you just had to come out and say:

"oh wow, you're big" with the sexiest fucking voice he'd ever heard.

"want me to stop?"

For some reason, those words elicited a criminally hot smirk on your lips  

"Definitely not"

You were looking at him like a starving woman and he had to look down to where he was moving his tip to your entrance to get away from you and your dangerous, dangerous gaze

He pushed into you slowly and god fucking damnit but the sounds that you made... those sweet little moans and whines you let out as your warm pussy stretched around him and hugged him better than anything he'd felt in years... he had no words for it- no coherent sounds could make it out of his mouth except for a few groans coming deep from his chest.

"Good christ"

that's the only thing he managed to murmur as he bottomed out and had to take a break to try not to bust his load right there.

"fuck you feel so good" you moaned, as your hands gripped his sheets "please move" you begged, your voice breathy and pleading, and godfuck he should have really thought about it before doing this.

"Joel please-"

"I just need a moment darlin'" he explained, closing his eyes to try and remember how he used to manage to last and coming up completely empty.

He could feel your expectant eyes on him so even if he sure as hell didn't feel ready, he did as you asked and started to move.

The regret reached him extraordinarily fast as he felt your walls tightening around him and as you cried out for him like an angel sent straight from heaven.

"fuck-" you moaned, looking up at him with doe eyes that made him wonder if you really just knew what you were doing, if you actually enjoyed torturing him like this

"god you're so deep"

Yeah, you definitely knew

"and so big-" you cried

He gripped your waist to try and ground himself as he thrusted into your fucking perfect cunt.

"oh my god-yes!" you moaned, your back arching from the bed as his thrust got harsher in the hopes that that would make you talk less.

"just like that Joel- oh-" 

And Joel was tough in a lot of ways and he wasn't one to give up easily, but shit you were making it hard for him.

"Please don't stop- fuckfuckfuck" you begged, shutting your eyes close at the feeling.

And that was it, he couldn't do it anymore

"please stop talking" he breathed, his eyes resuming their tour of your eyes, mouth, and bouncing tits.

"why?" 

"nothing it's just-"

And before he could answer you had grabbed his shoulder and forced him to bend down to meet your mouth with his.

Goddamnit.

"you just feel too good Joel" 

"fuck." he groaned, not able to stop his hips from moving no matter how much he wanted to "shit"

"what is it?"

"Jesus Christ I-"

"is there something wrong?"

"n-no just- fuck I'm sorry sweetheart"

And that's all he could say as he abruptly pulled out of you, his spend covering your stomach not even a second after as he growled so loud his neighbors probably thought he was getting killed.

"shit" again, he sighed, his forehead falling to your shoulder.

"oh" you couldn't help but smile as everything came together

"I'm sorry darlin'" he breathed, leaning away and standing up as shame filled every inch of him.

"It's just- It's been a long time since I've done... this"

You sat up, your legs still dangling off the bed, as you admired his handy work on your belly.

"And you... you're just real fucking pretty" he huffed a half-laugh "I'm sorry"

You looked up at him then, meeting his mortified expression.

"No hey" you smiled, placing a hand on his torso "It's fine, I understand"

"god this is embarrassing, I feel like a sixteen-year-old all over again" he shook his head

"stop" you cooed, gently caressing his skin, as a mischievous spark lighted in your irides "It's fine, really" you promised, "and besides..." you bit your bottom lip as you slowly spread your legs "you could still make it up to me, y'know?"

He groaned again, falling to his knees between your thighs

"that I can do"

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fluff #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #fluff #joel miller imagine #joel miller blurb #joel miller angst #fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo

[switchbladekillerqueen]

Elbow deep. And until she’ll braid my tubes.

#ellie williams #ellie williams imagine #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams smut

[joeldjarin]

me and the joel miller girlies

#pedro pascal #the last of us #joel miller #tlou #tlou hbo #joel miller fic #joel miller hbo #dbf joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller imagine #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller hbo x you #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller pedro pascal #my post