#joel miller fic
Text
My Joel,
A/N: I have not written a fic with this many words in a HOT minute, and boy does it feel good! What a cathartic experience this has been for me after writing Joel’s letters. I did not expect so many of you to want Joel and his dearest to have an alternative ending, but here we are 🤭 writing this has been a real treat, and I hope I have done their backstory and alternative ending justice! Buckle up, because you’re in for a wild ride! Thank you to @beardedjoel for letting me spam you with all the updates and screaming along with me 🥹 thank you to @strang3lov3 for betaing and creating these STUNNING divider mood boards for each section of the fic 💘
~word count: 14.4k~
Summary: the story of two forbidden lovers finding each other once more.
Pairing | forbidden lover!joel x f!reader
Warnings: angst, fluff, smut, infertility, canon typical violence, mutual pining, child abuse, mentions of S/A accusations (not by Joel) misogyny (not by Joel) homophobia/homophobic slurs (not by Joel) mutual pining, hopeless romantics, forbidden love, societal status, somewhat historically accurate language, arranged marriage (not to Joel), language, mentions of alcohol and tobacco products, virginity/virginity loss, happy ending/alternative ending, no age gap, reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni!
My Dearest,
June 1st, 1844
“This evening you are to meet the banker's son, daughter.” Your mother’s sickly sweet voice floated through your room, where you sat along the cushioned bench beneath the long window, your palm resting along your chin as you gazed out towards the gardens, the grass an unnatural shade of green compared to the common folk and farmers that would only dream of stepping foot on your family's estate. Your wealth was directly a result of your fathers parents, and their long lineage of thoroughbred horses. Your own mare was a descendant of the original three stallions imported into England in the late 1600’s.
But you were more focused on the man leading your mare, and her two stallions flocking at her hindquarters from the pasture: your Joel.
Joel Miller was a mere stable hand who was entrusted by your father himself to care for your family's prized horses. But to you? Joel was much more than just a stable hand. In fact, you begged your father one summer to increase Joel’s pay when he proved to be knowledgeable with the horses and their needs. Your father agreed, but refused to dote Joel with a new title. He was penniless compared to you, but you saw his heart before you saw his status in society. And he? He loved you from the moment you first met.
-
Spring, 1839
“Sir, sir!” A young Joel, 13 years of age burst into your fathers parlor, his hand-me-down clothes were soaked to the bone as the storm raged on outside the estate walls. “Dahlia’s womb has breached! Her foal is on the way!” He exclaimed with excitement.
Outside of your families prized stallions, the mares were just as valuable, bearing the next line of champions, no doubt. Dahlia belonged to your mother, and this was her third foal. Your mother couldn’t stand the presence of Joel in her home, dripping all over the floor, creating a puddle of water along the artisan rug beneath his muddy boots.
“Boy!” She snapped, setting her book down along her skirts where she was sitting near the fireplace, with perfect posture. Her eyes held a cold, unnerving stare. “You are in no state to be in my home looking like—” her pointed comment was cut off by the double doors leading to the parlor bursting open, to reveal your excited, and visibly out of breath face.
“Dahlia’s foal is on the way?!”
It was past your bedtime, but down the hall you heard the news of Dahlia, and couldn’t contain yourself. You were still in your nightgown, your hair in braids with bows tied into the ends. Joel felt a flush immediately rise to his damp cheeks at the sight of you. You were as pretty as a flower, the same age as him, and he wondered why this was the first time he’s seen you, till he remembered that most girls your age spent their days indoors preparing for marriage to a suitable husband of their fathers choosing, and inevitably bearing children down the line.
Just as quickly as his gaze fell upon you, he looked away, clearing his throat to hide the redness rising in his cheeks.
“Daughter!” Your mother scolded you when you rushed into the room and didn’t curtsy upon your arrival. She had yet to notice the bows in your hair when you quickly curtsied, fingers delicately grasping the hem of your nightgown as you bent down at the waist, one foot in front of the other just as it was ingrained into your brain for years. “Apologies, mother.” You softly squeaked out in embarrassment.
She shook her head, a displeasured look fell upon her hardened features. She rose from the couch, silk shawl clenched in her fist as she crossed the room and draped the garment across your shoulders. “Cover up your modesty.” She snapped unkindly. “Men should never see a lady in her night garments.”
I am not a lady, mother. I am a child! Is what you wanted to say, but instead you weakly nodded, muttering another apology under your breath. That’s when your mother took notice of your braids and the bows tied at the ends of them, a sign of innocent youth when you were to become a woman. She scoffed, nose upturning at the sight of them. Her cruel hand rose and fell, landing harshly against your soft cheek.
Joel visibly flinched from the sound, feeling his blood begin to boil under his soaked clothing. You had done nothing wrong! And who in their right mind slaps their own child!
Your skin stung, tears welling and nearly breaching down your cheeks when she yanked the bows from your braids and mockingly held them in front of your face. “These are for little girls. You are to become a woman, or have you forgotten?”
Your lower lip wobbled, and your knees trembled. Your eyes frantically searched the room, landing upon your father who paid no mind to your distress. He was too busy puffing away on his cigar, and even if he didn’t agree with his wife’s treatment upon you, he didn’t dare speak up about it.
“Joel, be a good lad and fetch my daughters coat. I will not be treading out in a storm such as that one, but someone from our family should be present for the birth of Dahlias foal.” He gruffed out. “Let us hope for a strong colt. There are too many fillies prancing around here.”
“Sir—” Joel started, but was cut off.
“Fetch her coat, and do not make me ask you a third time, boy.” He sternly reiterated.
“Yes, sir. Right away!” He nodded, quickly turning on his heel and exited the parlor, his eyes met your teary-eyed one briefly before he disappeared behind the open doors.
“Our daughter has no business going out in this storm, husband! Especially not with the likes of that—boy.” She seethed, stepping back from your trembling frame and walked in the direction of the fire, the now crumpled bows in her fist. She wasted no time to throw them directly into flames, watching as they were burnt up into ash immediately.
“Relax, wife.” Your father sighed, tapping out the ash from his cigar into the crystal ashtray along the table, “she is in good hands with Joel, I trust him.”
“Excuse me, miss?” a timid, youth filled voice appeared behind your shoulder, hand outstretched with your coat grasped between his fingers.
You sniffled, turning to face him and quickly wiped at your brewing tears with the back of your hand. “Thank you, Joel.” You whispered, fingers brushing his gently as you removed your coat from his grasp.
He nearly shied from your touch, a series of tingles and sparks shooting up his spine when he felt your soft touch for the first time. You reacted all the same; shocked gazes meeting before he was stepping to the side for you to pass by him first, a gentleman in nature despite coming from nothing. He cleared his throat, offering you his elbow to brace against the pounding rain and blustering winds. “I’ve got you, miss.” He whispered as your palm gently rested along the crook of his elbow.
Despite your mother’s incessant protests, Joel Miller guided you outside, acting as a physical shield as you endured the storm together. Once inside the safety of the barn, Joel parted from your side, grabbing a nearby stool for you to sit upon before entering Dahlia’s stall. You watched in pure curiosity and amazement as Joel spoke softly to the mare while her head rested in his lap. Beast trusted man; man trusted beast.
When Dahlia’s foal was born, she was not blessed with a strong colt like your father hoped for, but instead a filly. She was smaller than Dahlia’s other foals, and coal black unlike her mother’s dazzling, dappled silver coat. Joel helped the young filly stand on her long, spindly legs so that she could nurse. He was incredibly gentle, letting the filly lean her weight into him. Although Joel knew he was not allowed to name the horses, he started to call the filly ‘Little Shadow’ and only left the stall when he was certain she could stand on her own.
That’s when he remembered he wasn’t alone, and that you were still sitting upon the stool, hands clasped in your lap.
“Wanna meet her?” He suddenly asked, wiping his hands down on a nearby towel.
“Oh…” you trailed off, “I’m unsure if—”
“Nonsense.” He shook his head, a small, boy-like grin tugging on his lips. “M’sure your father would want you to have the full experience, would he not?”
“Yes, I suppose he would.” You agreed and graciously took his hand when he offered it. “He will be displeased to hear that Dahlia did not bear a strong colt.”
“I never understood that.” He mused, helping you down from the stool and gently released your hand. “A healthy foal, no matter the sex, is better than an unhealthy one, is it not?”
“Yes, this is true.” You nervously toyed with a loose thread on your coat, avoiding making eye contact with him. “She is…small though, is she not?”
He took no offense to your lack of direct eye contact. He felt undeserving to be in your presence, let alone hold your gaze? “Forgive me if this comes across negatively, miss. But must you always speak so…proper?”
You turned your nose up at his question, dropping the loose thread from your fingertips, “I am to be a lady, Joel. This is how ladies talk.”
He snorted under his breath, shaking his head and shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “I suppose you are right. And to answer your question, she may be smaller than the rest of Dahlia’s offspring, but her legs are long, and strong.” He commented thoughtfully as he walked over to the nursing foal. “She will be a winner one day, no doubt.”
“Do you wish to name her, Joel?” You asked softly, standing alongside him with your hand outstretched to gently pet the fillies jet black neck.
“Oh, miss—I could never. I was only calling her Little Shadow because well, she is like a Little Shadow.”
“I don’t think father would approve of Little Shadow…but I think Shadow is a fine name for her, sir.”
“Miss, I am not a sir.” He sighed, reaching behind him to rub the back of his neck. “I’m just a stable hand. I do not possess any titles, and I never will. I agree, Shadow is a fine name for her.”
“Joel, I have heard that you are more than just a stable hand, but I address every man as sir. It’s how I have been taught.”
He looked over at you, eyes scanning the side of your face, the same side where your cheek had been struck by your mothers cruel hand. “That it be true, I am not a man, miss. I am just a boy.”
Silence fell between the two of you while you continued to gently stroke Shadow’s neck. You could feel Joel’s gaze landing on your cheek, but you chose to ignore it despite the heat that was slowly beginning to rise to your cheeks.
“Miss…?” He sounded unsure of himself, nervous, apprehensive of the words he was about to speak next,
“Yes, Joel?”
“Forgive me, I should not be uttering these words to a lady like yourself, but the bows in your hair…I thought they were quite—pretty.” He whispered the last bit, expecting you to scold him, to scream, and surely send him to the gallows for even thinking of you in that inappropriate manner, but instead, you smiled softly.
“Thank you, Joel. Mother…doesn’t approve of them. Says they are for little girls, and not for a lady to be. But they are just ribbons, are they not? I like how they look, and I wish she did too.” You sighed, eyes casting downwards.
He was more bold this time around as the images of your mothers hand making contact with your soft cheek flashes in his mind, “she should have never laid a hand upon you like that, miss. You did nothing wrong! Forgive me—I have forgotten my place.” He dropped his chin between his shoulders in shame.
You wept then, fat tears rolling down your cheeks at the phantom sting of your mothers palm. You slowly sank down into the straw bed, head in your hands. You looked so small, frail, weak, and Joel never wanted you to feel this way again.
At first he didn’t know how to react to your distress, but soon he found himself sinking down to his knees in front of you, his hands trembling as he reached out to grasp your covered shoulders, “my dearest, do not weep, please. Your mother has never learned kindness in her life, but you? You—” he struggled to find his words, his empathetic nature coming out in full swing.
You slowly tilted your chin upwards to meet his gaze, glassy eyes boring into his. You both took a sharp inhale of breath, time seemed to cease completely. The storm outside raged on, the wind whipped and howled outside the heavy barn doors when Joel Miller’s calloused palms gently cradled your face, thumbs brushing away your glistening tears.
1842
Spring turned to summer, summer to fall, and fall to winter. Your Joel transformed into a man before your very eyes. In your youth he showed you how to run, to make mud pies, to swim in the river, despite your mothers disapproval. Your father showed an inkling of care to allow your years before marriage to be spent with Joel by your side.
On the approach of your sixteenth birthday, Joel Miller no longer looked like a boy in your eyes. He was a man, and for the first time in your life, you felt that forbidden part between your thighs come alive at the sight of him. He had grown taller, his arms filling in, paired with strong thighs. The muscles in his back and shoulders were defined with laborious hours of work. His chiseled jaw was speckled with facial hair, paired with unruly curls that you wished you could feel their softness between your fingers. You found yourself transfixed by his lips and often imagined how they would feel pressed to yours in a heated embrace. The only thing about your Joel that didn’t change with age was his eyes; the deepest pools of brown that always appeared lighter when he was graced with your presence.
Your father treated him like a son, inviting him out on the weekends to go fox hunting with your brothers. The prospect of attending college was even on the horizon for him, and Joel could taste his new life brewing on his tongue. His feelings grew for you over the years, feeling his heart flutter and clench whenever you would look his way. Even in your modest attire, he envisioned your womanly figure beneath your layers of tooled skirts. Every night before he laid his body to sleep, he would imagine your lips pressing to his own until the thought of it had begun to drive him mad.
So upon your sixteenth birthday, he approached your father in his office with only one thought on his mind; asking for your fathers permission, and blessing to court, and eventually marry you.
“Come in.” Your father’s voice rasped behind the closed door.
Joel took a deep breath, rubbing his sweaty palms along the front of his trousers, bringing one hand up to smooth down his untamed curls. His calloused palm grasped the brass handle and slowly pushed it open.
Your father was seated behind his desk, cigar smoke wafting through the air in a swirling pattern from where it rested between his lips. He looked at Joel expectantly, arms crossed behind his head in a lax position. “Joel, my boy. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Joel stepped inside the room, closing the door behind him softly. He momentarily glanced out a large window overlooking the gardens where in just a few hours, your party would be in full swing. “Good afternoon, sir.” He nodded curtly, “beautiful day we’re having, yes? The weather will be exceptional for your daughter's birthday this evening.”
My Dearest.
“Yes, indeed. The weather has been lovely.” Your father mused. “If you’re asking if you can attend tonight’s festivities, you already know my answer, Joel. The lady of the house wouldn’t stand for it.” He waved his hand in a dismissive manner.
“Yes, of course, sir. I won’t be on the grounds this evening. A few friends have invited me to the tavern for drinks. I won’t be out late, I swear it.”
“I see.” Your father nodded, “a handsome young man such as yourself oughta get out there more.” He agreed, “So, what are you here for then?”
Shit.
“Sir, I have—known your daughter for many years now, as you are aware. I am also aware that she has many suitors lined up to offer her hand in marriage, but sir, if I was given your blessing, and permission, I would—”
“Joel.” Your father’s tone cut through the younger man like a sharpened blade. “My daughter has already been promised to another. Do not take me for a fool, boy. I have seen the way your gaze lingers on her longer than what would even be described as appropriate. I see the way she looks at you, Joel. I have bit my tongue on this matter because I happen to like you, son. What I can offer you is another lady, at your choosing. You can live a happy, comfortable life and hold a title that you would never otherwise possess. My suggestion is that you accept my generous offer, and throw away your fantasy of ever marrying my daughter.”
Joel swallowed his disappointment down with a heavy gulp. He was naive to believe that he could ever be granted with your fathers blessing. How foolish of him to believe that a man such as himself, would ever end up with the likes of you. It was a fantasy, an unattainable dream that he was better off extinguishing now instead of dwelling on what could never be. He nodded slowly, trying to ignore the way his heart submerged to the very pits of his stomach. “I understand, sir.” He finally spoke.
“Good lad. I knew you were a smart one from the start. Now, this stays between you and I, alright?”
“Of course, sir.”
“Good. You didn’t hear this from me, but the lady of the house plans to retire early this evening. If you see the opportunity to whisk my daughter away for one evening, take it. If it sours, do not even think about taking me down with you. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”
“Sir?” Joel sounded confused, his eyes going wide momentarily, “I’m confused—”
“Treat my daughter to a night that she will never forget, so that in her later years, when she is in misery after bearing her husband's children, and finds herself in a loveless marriage, she will have her memories of you to look back on. Do not, and I mean by any means, get caught and throw your life away so foolishly.”
“I—I understand, sir.” He stuttered out, his heart lurching in his chest at the prospect of one evening with you in his embrace. “Thank you, sir. Thank you.” He gushed earnestly.
“Leave now, Joel. Do not speak of this to anyone.”
“I won’t, sir. I promise.”
-
All evening you danced merrily and socialized with the upper socialites of Texas with a fake smile plastered on your pretty painted lips. You searched high and low for your Joel all evening. Your gaze lingered, heart skipping a beat anytime a man that resembled him would stride past, only to be met with bitter disappointment when they would turn their cheek towards you and the resemblance would dissipate like the bubbles in your champagne flute. Your mother had retired for the evening, and your father was in his parlor with his colleagues, smoking, drinking, and playing hands of poker.
And then you felt a presence brush past your bare shoulder, the skirts of your dress ruffling in the warm summer breeze. A shred of parchment was placed into your palm discreetly as you watched the inconspicuous figure disappear in the direction of the nearby stables. Once you were certain no one was paying any attention to you, you unfolded parchment, your heart surging at the familiar penmanship.
My Dearest,
Happy sixteenth birthday. Meet me at the stables in exactly one hour.
Your Joel
Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the butterflies erupted and fluttered wildly in your stomach, Your Joel. You brought the parchment to your lips, kissing his words, your lashes fluttering shut.
As the minutes ticked by, your excitement heightened, and when it was ten minutes to the hour, you snuck off to the stables with a visible pep in your step. The barn door was left ajar upon your entering, and when you turned the corner, you found your Joel inside of Shadow’s stall, bows and flowers were braided delicately throughout her luscious mane and tail. When he sensed your presence, he turned around, the biggest grin plastered on his face, dimples peeking through, one stray curl falling across his forehead that was begging to be brushed away by your soft fingertips.
“Joel.” You breathed out, smile mimicking his own.
“My Dearest.” His heart surged in his chest, and then you were launching yourself into his arms unexpectedly. He caught you, of course, hugging you tightly to his broad frame. “No one saw you, right?”
“No.” You shook your head, wrapping your arms around his neck while his hands fell to your waist. “Shadow looks beautiful! What’s the occasion?”
He chuckled warmly, tilting his forehead to rest upon yours with a sigh of relief, “she doesn’t look nearly as beautiful as you, darlin.’ And why for your birthday, of course!”
His warm, timbre laugh sent your stomach somersaulting, and your mind feeling dizzy. “An evening ride through the countryside, is that my present from you?” You teased him lightly, threading your fingers through the back of his hair.
“No, no, my sweet. It’s actually…a surprise. Are you up for it? Oh! You’ll be needing these, however.” He reluctantly departed from your embrace, stepping off to the side to lift a rucksack from the ground. “I believe they’re your size.”
You raised a curious brow as he handed the rucksack off to you. “You mean, I get an excuse to wear something outside of my fine dresses?” You gasped softly.
“Mhm.” He nodded, smile playing on his lips at your pure excitement over something so small. “I’ll uh—give you some privacy to change.” He cleared his throat, eyes dancing in the direction opposite of you as he turned on his heel so his back would be facing you.
Secretly, you wanted him to see you undress from your obnoxious layers and reveal your untouched skin to his admiring gaze. The times that you would swim in the river together were different. You were both still children, and your womanly curves hadn’t made their appearance just yet.
He silently listened to your fine skirts fall to the dusty barn floor and he was half tempted to peek, but remained respectful as you undressed. Once you gave him the okay, he slowly turned around to face you once more. Gone were your frilly heavy skirts that dragged along the floor with each step that you took. Your skirt was still long, but not as weighted and while the bodice was still fairly constricting, the sleeves were dainty and hung off the side of your shoulders like silk drapery. Your mother would certainly have a fit if she saw you dressed so un-modestly.
“So…” You trailed off, “how do I look?” You twirled on your heel, your smile never faltering.
He unashamedly looked you up and down, twice, before one strong arm looped around your waist and pulled you flush against his chest, caging you against him.
“Pardon my French, mademoiselle, but you look fuckin’ stunning.”
You giggled, hands resting against his chest to brace yourself against him. It was the sweetest sound that had ever graced his ears; your laugh.
“Thank you, sir. Mother would scold me if she saw me dressed like this!” You giggled again when his nose came to nuzzle against your cheek, bristles in his beard gently scraping against your skin, “she would, my dearest. But don’t worry about any of that, okay? Tonight you will have the time of your life with me, and your mother will have no say in it.” He assured you.
—
You rode into town on horseback, Shadow moving swiftly with Joel steering her with the reins and you behind him with your arms wrapped around him, pressing yourself as close to his back as possible. You had never been to a tavern before, but tonight would certainly be a night of firsts.
Your first sips of Ale were with Joel by your side, his shoulder brushing yours as he leaned over, warm breath fanning your face as he asked you what you thought about the taste.
Truthfully? Ale was not your first drink of choice, but you had an understanding for the appeal of it. Joel agreed, and whispered in your ear that he thought it tasted like shit. His tone and crude remark sent you giggling in tandem.
Now, whiskey on the other hand? You enjoyed the smoky flavor that lingered on your tongue and the way it instantly sent a warm fire simmering in your belly, and heat to flood your cheeks. You danced, laughed, drank and you even played a hand of poker! No one in the tavern knew of your status, your wealth. Everyone in the rowdy establishment was just there living, and you silently wished for your life to always be this freeing.
When the tavern closed for the night, you and Joel strolled down the street, hand in hand. The late evening air held that familiar summer sweetness, crickets chirping, fireflies dancing around your heads. Another pair of lovers strolled in front of you and Joel, seemingly unable to keep their hands off of one another as they neared the town inn. Would that be you and your Joel?
His palm felt clammy in your palm, but his face gave no distinction that he was absolutely freaking the fuck out inside at the prospect of finally getting the privilege to press his lips to yours.
“Shadow is staying at the inn’s barn for the evening, my dearest. It’s far too late for either of us to return back to the estate…” he trailed off, eyes casting in your direction to await your response.
“Joel…” you sighed, loosening your grip around his hand, nearly dropping it entirely. “We—we have to go back. Father, mother—”
“My dearest, your mother has retired early for the evening, and your father is probably too deep in a hand of poker to even notice your absence.” He spoke softly, slowly bringing your entwined fingers up to his face, illuminated in a soft, warm glow from the flickering street lights lining the walkway. He brushed his lips against the outside of your hand, eyes locking onto yours, “I understand if you don’t desire me the way I desire you, my dearest. And if that is the case, we can leave immediately—”
“I—I desire you plenty, my Joel. All evening at the party, I kept seeing the resemblance of your beautiful face in every male passerby, but none of them were you. I’m just—I’m so afraid, Joel. My heart—it feels so deeply for you, but it’s forbidden. You and I both know the bitter truth of what we can never be.”
“My dearest, tonight we need not be afraid, okay? It is your birthday, your special day, and there is nowhere else in this world that I would rather be, than here with you. I ask you for nothing, only to trust me. Trust your Joel.”
You could feel yourself caving into his words, your body drawn to be closer to him as if by some invisible force pulling you into his chest. “I trust you always, my Joel.”
He nodded, pressing another sweet kiss to the outside of your hand. You moved in sync, his strong, broad body caging you against the brick wall of the inn, his hands, calloused and warm, holding your face between them as if you were fine delicate china. His forehead came to rest upon yours, warm breath fanning your face, “can I kiss you, my dearest?”
“Please, my Joel.” You breathed out, fingers gently resting along the nape of his neck. “You—you will be my first.” You whispered.
“And you will be mine, my dearest.” He rasped, thumbs gently stroking your cheekbones, feeling his heartbeat faster, and faster, when his lips finally brushed upon your own, both of your inexperience showing, but nature took over when your lips finally met, pressing against one another. Your breath hitched in your throat, fingers tightening around his soft curls, pulling him in closer. You wanted to crawl inside his skin, make a home inside of his heart and never leave.
“I—have never felt a sweetness upon my lips till I have kissed you, my dearest.” He murmured sweetly against your locked lips, taking the leap of what felt right when your lips parted like the narrow sea for him to slowly lick into your mouth so your tongues could meet, and dance.
An unexpected moan slipped past your lips when he licked into your mouth, a sound only for his ears, sending blood flowing southwards beneath his trousers and directly to his groin. He parted from the kiss momentarily, a string of translucent saliva hung between your swollen lips. He dived back in seconds later, but this time you felt his lips upon your neck, sucking, kissing, licking at your throat and all the way back up to your lips.
“I scraped up enough money to afford us a night at the inn, my dearest.” He let out a soft grunt when your nails lightly scratched his scalp, and your fingers tugged on the root of his curls, “do you wish to—”
“Yes, my Joel.” You didn’t even wait for him to finish his question, you already knew your answer was going to be yes.
He chuckled at your eagerness, letting his hands drop from your face and rest along your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, “lay beside me tonight, my love?”
“Yes, my Joel. I wish for that.”
He smiled into the kiss, the butterflies in his own stomach were no longer fluttering wildly, his nerves were gone because never in his life had he been more sure about his feelings till now. It was a moment of calm that both you and he felt in one another’s embrace. “Then let it be known that tonight, beneath the stars, I will make love to you, my dearest.” The words he spoke fell like a sweet oath upon your lips.
You kissed him once more, before your lips parted, but only for a little while. He took your hand in his, fingers entwined and led you to the entrance of the inn. The room was paid for, and the excitement was beginning to tingle once more as he unlocked the door to the room you would share. A single bed to accommodate you both.
And when he laid you down, fitting in the space between your thighs, kissing every inch of your untouched skin, drawing sounds from your throat that you had never felt, nor heard before. Calloused palms moved with languid ease, undressing you with methodical care. You did the same to him, marveling at the flex of his muscles beneath your touch. He was so gentle, so patient as you parted for him like a blooming flower. He kissed you there, too. Dark head of curls moving between your thighs, strong fingers spreading you open where his tongue quickly found the little bud that had your whole body quivering, and your back bowing, arching from the mattress.
He kissed, licked, worshiped, suckled on your womanhood, the taste of you was something so foreign, yet familiar, and his cock grew heavy between his thighs, hips rutting into the mattress for any form of relief.
Your speech was slurred, broken, fragmented moans dangling from your lips, and you were only able to say one word; his name.
Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel.
And when the coil in deep within your tummy was pulled tight, and a burning warmth that could only be described as the feeling of heaven on earth, traveled from the tips of your toes and up your spine, you convulsed around his tongue, eyes rolling back into your skull, muscles spasming, your cunt pulsing, leaking along the sheets. He lapped up every sweet drop of your release, swallowing it down as if he was quenched with thirst. His eyes opened, dark pools of brown staring intensely into yours, grinning like a devil. His chin and beard glistening in your sweet nectar, illuminated by the pale moonlight casting in through the thin, billowing curtains.
He kissed up your body, finding your lips and molding his tongue around yours so you could taste yourself, too. He whispered sweet nothings between kisses when the heavy weight of his cock slowly began to press into you. Tears sprung from the sudden sharp pain caused by the stretch of him easing inside of you. He kissed away your tears, shushing you softly and promising you that it would feel good so soon, my dearest.
Your nails left crescents in his back, thighs wrapping around his waist when he was fully sheathed inside of your pulsing, hugging warmth. It was the tightest vice he ever did feel, and he never wanted to part from you.
“I’ve got you, my dearest.” He whispered upon your lips, drawing his hips back slowly, oh so slowly, before guiding them forward. The coarse dark hair on his pubic bone brushed against your own with each gentle thrust he gave you. A rhythm set in with his movements, your body naturally began to mold to his as you became one. Sweat soaked skin, tangled moans and limbs, wet kisses and words of love shared between what little space was left between you.
And when he spilled his seed deep within your womb, and he moaned your name, proclaiming his love and devotion for you with his face buried against your neck. You refused to part from one another, even as his cock softened inside of you, and your cunt no longer fluttered. You pressed your lips to his scruffy cheek, tangled your fingers through his now sweat soaked curls that were matted to his forehead and back of his neck. You held him, and he held you as the sun slowly began to rise, and the birds chirped cheerfully just outside the window.
“I don’t want to go home, my Joel. I want to stay here, with you…forever.” You whispered softly through the early morning air.
He shifted deep within you, lifting his chin and turned his cheek to the side, brushing his lips sweetly against your soft cheek. His eyes were sleepy, a dopey, boyish grin graced his features, lips curved in a perfect pout, swollen with your kisses, “I need not yet to part from you, my love. But I must return you home before your father and mother awake.”
You sighed softly, dropping your fingers from their grip on his hair to then drag across his jaw, nuzzling your nose against his and pressed a kiss to his lips, “our home, my Joel.” You gently reminded him.
He kissed you back, lashes fluttering shut to savor the moment before opening again so he could once again gaze upon your face and paint a picture in his memory to hold onto forever, “our home, my dearest.”
Reality began to rear its ugly head into both of your minds and he reluctantly parted from your kiss, drawing his hips back slowly to release his cock from your warmth. “We must return home, my dearest.” He sat back on his haunches, his softened cock wet, sticky with a mix of your combined releases and a thin layer of blood.
You slowly sat up, taking the coarse sheet with you as you gazed upon his groin for the first time. Even soft now, your sex induced eyes widened at the girth of him.
He, however, was more focused on the stain of blood on his skin, and swiped his thumb across it before his gaze landed on you, “have you…bled before, my sweet?”
You nodded, “yes, my Joel. I bleed the same time every month since my thirteenth birthday. Mother told me that it means I am ready to bear children, and I have become a woman. She told me that I would bleed again when my husband makes love to me for the first time.”
His chin falls between his shoulders, feeling them sink from the realization that he would never be your husband, and you would never be his wife. “Does it hurt…to bleed? Did I hurt you, my love?”
You shook your head, letting the sheets drop from your chest as you reached out to comfort him. “No, my love. It can be uncomfortable, but you did not hurt me. A dull sting is all I felt, nothing more. You took care of me.”
He reached for your hand, squeezing it gently as you emerged from under the covers, “my dearest, what is to happen if…you end up bearing my children? We are both so young, I wish not to steal what remains of your youth. You deserve so much more than only what is expected of you, my lady.”
You found yourself straddling his hips with your thighs on either side of him, caging his body around yours while his arms wrapped around your waist, using his core strength to stay upright as your hands came to rest upon his face, “if I bear your children, then we could marry, Joel. We could—be together!” You spoke excitedly.
“My dearest, I—have nothing to offer you. I am penniless…we are not of the same status, and your mother and father would never allow it.” His thumbs gently stroked the dimples in your back at the bottom of your spine.
“I will speak with my father! He will understand, he must! No man will ever wish to marry me if I am bearing another’s child! Father—he’ll have to agree!”
“My dearest, what if my seed doesn’t take to your womb the first time? What if we are unable—”
You cut him off with a swift kiss to his lips, pulling him in close with your hand resting along the nape of his neck, “then we keep trying till my womb is swelling with life.”
He kissed you deeply, feeling his cock begin to stir to life between your tightly pressed bodies. He nodded, a silent agreement as he dropped one hand from where it rested against your spine and dragged it between you so that he could grasp the base of his cock and slowly press himself inside of you once more.
-
By the time you and Joel arrived back at the estate, the sun was already beginning to rise high above the sky. The stables were empty upon your arrival as Joel helped you dismount from Shadow. He urged you to change back into your attire that you wore to the party so that your mother, nor father would raise their suspicions. You parted ways with a kiss, a longing behind his lips as he watched you leave his embrace and walk back into the life you had always known.
At the breakfast table your mother was quick to question why you were not present in your chambers at sunrise, but you already had a rehearsed script planned in your mind. Without missing a beat, you told the story of how you had a few too many flutes of champagne, and fell asleep in the gardens.
Your mother, of course, scolded you, but your father? He had a hidden, knowing smile playing beneath his mustache.
You and Joel were extremely cautious and strategic when it came to planning your rendezvous. They happened frequently, under the cover of night when everyone was sleeping. Sometimes in the stables, sometimes in the gardens, and you even returned to the inn a few times in secret. He could not get enough of you, your kisses, or your touch. The feeling was mutual, and you both knew that the deep, profound feelings you were both experiencing was not infatuation or lust, no, you and Joel Miller were madly, deeply, tragically in love with one another.
Even in the daytime he would seek your presence, asking your father if he could accompany you on a ride through the countryside as your guide, and protector. You had picnics by the river where he would lay his head upon your skirts, eyes closed blissfully as he listened to you read love stories from Shakespeare till he would drift off, soft snores escaping his lips, your voice lulling him to a sweet slumber. Your horses would graze side by side, his stallion, your mare. Their tails swishing to fight off the pesky flies.
-
Upon the approach of your eighteenth birthday, you wept in Joel’s arms, for no matter how many times he spilled his seed inside of you, your womb did not swell with life; his child. You feared that his love for you would sour and rot when you broke the mournful news to him beneath comfort of the shimmering moon, and twinkling stars.
“My dearest, why do you weep? Who, or what has caused my sweet love to shed her tears?” He sank to his knees with you crumbling in his arms. His heart felt like it was being shredded to fragmented pieces when your sobs echoed off the nearby hedges in the garden where your embrace was hidden.
“My Joel!” You cried, clawing at his arms with fat, heavy tears streaming down your cheeks, “I—I’m so sorry. I have let you down, my love.”
“My dearest, how have you let me down? Tell me what is wrong! What has happened?” He spoke urgently, tone hushed.
“My womb does not swell with life, Joel! We have tried, and tried! No matter how many times, it has been fruitless! I bear you no sons, no daughters—” you wailed mournfully.
“My sweet, are you certain of this? Oh, my girl…” he felt his own tears begin to prick his eyes as he began to gently rock you in his arms. “Do you weep in sadness, or in fear? I do not care that you cannot bear me any children, my dearest. My love for you will never sour.”
“Do not lie to me, lover!” You were on the edge of snapping through your tears, “when my sole purpose in this life is to marry and bear children to my husband! There must be something wrong with me, Joel! How can you say you love me when I cannot be the woman I am expected to be! I never can fucking—”
You surprised yourself and him by your sudden crude language, but then again, spending as much time as you did with Joel, his verbiage began to rub off on you, and yours onto him.
“Then don’t be the woman you are expected to be, my love! There is nothing wrong with you. Nothing, do you hear me? I love you as you are! You are my lady, for fucks sakes! You can be whoever you want to be with me! Do you wish to be a poet? Be one! Do you wish to be a scholar? A singer? Do you wish to live a normal life where your choices are not already chosen for you?!” His voice cracked, coming out as a hoarse rasp deep from within his chest.
You fought the urge to scoff and chide him for being so naive. “My life will never be normal! Don’t you understand?! All I know is what has been chosen for me! It doesn’t matter what I want, Joel! I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth! My studies, my thoughts, opinions, have all been predisposed! Even the fucking food I consume, and the clothing on my back has been chosen for me!”
“Of course I understand! All I have ever done is understand that you and I were never cut from the same cloth! And yet, I love you all the same because what else is a man to do? My sweet, we are weeks away from your eighteenth birthday! We can run away together and carve out the life of our choosing! Fuck your parents, fuck the society we live in! Do you want to marry a man you don’t love and live in misery?! Or do you want the chance to live! To wake up at your choosing, to wear what you desire, to love freely with no prejudice? To never again live under your parents control? Don’t you want to…love me?” He was exasperated, chest heaving, nostrils flaring from the pure passion oozing from his words.
You fell silent, your lower lip wobbling, eyes glassy with tears as you looked into his eyes, taking in the redness in his cheeks, the puffing of his chest—the love pooling in his dark irises, “of course I want to love you, my Joel. I—I’m afraid! Can’t you see that? I’m expected to marry and bear my husband's children and now I cannot! If we run away together, I’ll never be able to return home! What if our love isn’t destined to make it! What if we fail—”
“Of course I can see you’re afraid, my girl. I see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice! You are safe here, with me. With your Joel! I would never, ever, ever let anything happen to you. We may not live a life of riches, but we would live a life rich in love! I—I can get a job! I will work until my bones break if it means that I get to be with you. I’ll work the railways, the mines! Any job that I can take, I will, and I’ll do it all for you.”
You kissed him then, tasting the salt from your own tears and his upon your locked lips. “We’ll move west! As far west as we can! We’ll see the ocean for the first time, plot out our land and live out our days together!” You murmured against his lips.
“California.” He promised you, kissing you deeply as his hands came to cradle your face, “a sheep ranch with Shadow and Sunfyre.”
“Why sheep, lover?” You asked softly between desperation filled kisses,
“They’re quiet, do as they're told.” He teased, chuckling when you gently swatted at his chest for making such a comment.
“Ha, ha, very funny.” You giggled, which soon turned into a moan when his fingers slipped down to your waist and hastily began to unlace your bodice, while your hand drifted downwards to undo the string on his trousers. Neither of you knew that one of your own ladies, the same lady that had been promised to Joel by your father, caught the two of you in the gardens while she was out for a midnight stroll. Her presence was undetected as you sank down around Joel’s cock beneath your skirts, moaning his name unashamedly as your entwined bodies moved in sync.
June 1st, 1844
“Yes, mother.” You responded in a practiced, complacent sweetness to appease her.
“He will make a fine husband to you, one day.” She added, her perfectly dainty fingers came to rest upon your shoulder, squeezing it with anything but a comforting touch. She didn’t notice the way your gaze lingered on your secret lover, nor did she sense your longing.
“Yes, he will, mother. I look forward to making his acquaintance.”
“Good. You have grown into being a fine young woman, daughter. Your father and I are so very proud of you.”
If only they knew that you were not the perfect, proper lady than they believed you to be, and that your heart belonged to another man.
-
Your Joel had requested a private audience with your father leading up to the festivities surrounding your monumental birthday. And so after bringing the horses in from the pasture, he made his way to your fathers office, closing the door quietly behind him when he was given permission to enter.
“Sir, I have wonderful news to bestow upon you, Shadow is expectin’. She was showin’ early signs a few weeks back, but it is official.”
“Wonderful news indeed, Joel. And who is the lucky stud?” Your father asked, despite already knowing the answer.
“Sunfyre, sir.”
“Ahh. What a combination. A filly, as black as the night, and a colt, as golden as the sun. I wonder what their offspring will look like.” He mused.
Joel swallowed the lump growing in his throat, his palms growing clammier by the second. He took a deep breath to calm his budding nerves, “Sir, I need to disclose something to you, but before I do, I just wanted to say that I have appreciated being able to confide in you in some capacity. I am grateful that you have taken me under your wing and offered me the chance at having a better life, but your daughter—”
“Joel.” He warned, leaning forward in his chair with his hands clasped together. “Be extremely careful with your choice in words for whatever it is you are about to tell me. Perhaps I need to remind you where your place is? Maybe I should have been wary of confiding in you, boy.”
“Sir, please. You must hear this! If you care about your daughter's happiness, and her well being, you will listen to what I have to say. I swear that our conversations have remained confidential! I have spoken about them to no one, I swear it!”
Your father let out a deep sigh, bringing his hands to his face where he pressed the pads of his fingers into the deep set wrinkles in his forehead. “Go on then.”
“Your daughter—she is unable to bear children. She is afraid of what is to become of her if she cannot bear children for her future husband, sir. And I fear for her as well! Sir, men are unkind, and she is sweet. She is sweet and kind and deserving—”
Your fathers heart slowly began to sink, his composure crumbled because of his darling little girl, who would certainly face a life of hardship and misery if you could not bear children and enact your duties as a perfect wife for your husband. He didn’t agree with it, but that was how society worked. Men ruled the house, and the women cared for their husbands and children. “How do you know of this, Joel?” Your fathers tone wavered, his eyes casting in Joel’s direction and he saw a younger version of himself in your forbidden lover.
“Sir, you know the answer to your own question.” Joel nearly whispered, avoiding direct eye contact and let his gaze fall to a portrait behind your fathers desk, two young men with their arms around one another’s shoulders.
“You love her, don’t you?” His question hung heavy in the air.
Joel froze like a deer that was inevitably caught by hunters in the meadow. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t think as he listened to the sound of blood rushing in his ears and his pulse pounding, “with all of my heart, sir.”
Your father slowly nodded his head in understanding as he let out a sigh, “then you must know that you have to swallow down your feelings for my daughter for her benefit and your own. You are playing a dangerous game, Joel. One that could very well cost you your life.”
“I don’t fucking care. I have never loved another being outside of your daughter. Our love may be frowned upon and forbidden, but it is real. I have felt for her since I was just a mere boy, when the storm was raging outside and she accompanied me to see the birth of Dahlia’s foal. My love for her will never sour, it will never over ripen and rot like the low hanging fruit upon the trees. I have nothing to offer her but my heart, and that holds a weight more valuable than gold or silver.”
Your father smiled, one that did not reach his eyes as he slowly stood from his chair behind his desk and walked in front of it. “You remind me so much of my younger self, Joel. Willing to do anything for the person you love. Despite all the odds being stacked against you.”
Joel took a hesitant step back, the heel of his boot nearly catching along the rug, “do not patronize me, sir. I love your daughter, and nothing will stop me from loving her. Even after death, my love for her will remain.”
“Of course nothing will stop you, Joel. For what else is a man to do when he is in love?” He smiled sadly, a look of longing hidden behind his eyes. Joel knew the look all too well.
“I don’t—I don’t understand.”
“I’m going to tell you something that you have to swear you will never utter to anyone. It is a secret that you must take to your grave, Joel. You cannot even tell my daughter. Are we clear?”
“I swear I will not tell a single soul, sir. Not even your daughter will know.”
“Good, I trust you. You have a good heart, Joel.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Your father reached for his box of cigars, silently offering one to Joel who politely declined. It had been many, many, years since your father spoke about his past, and while he lit the end of the cigar, those memories began to surface. “I meant what I said when I told you that you remind me of my younger self.”
Joel nodded in understanding.
“When I was your age, the world was at my fingertips, Joel. It was my oyster, and I could have any lady of my choosing, but I had to marry. That was my parents one rule upon me was that I had to marry.”
“You could have any lady of your choosing, but it wasn’t a lady that held your affections, was it, sir?”
“No. It was not a lady that held my affections.”
“The man…in the portrait behind your desk, was he your…?”
“Yes, Joel. The man in the portrait was my lover. The butler's son nonetheless. I of course tried to appease my parents and court the finest lady in town, but my heart longed for my lover. We were going to run away together, Joel. It was all planned out, and I was ready to throw away my old life for him. It was, and still is taboo and forbidden to lay with the same sex. We were careful, until I came to him with the grave news that I would have to marry, and that we could no longer be together. He was angry, I was angry, we got reckless, and one night we were caught.”
“By…the lady of the house? Your now wife?”
He nodded, leaning back against the front of his desk, “yes, she was the one who caught us in the act, in my chambers. She screamed so loud, as if she was witnessing a murder! I begged her to keep her voice down but she wouldn’t listen. She was disgusted with me, and proclaimed that I would rot in eternal hell for the sins I committed.”
“What happened…to your lover, sir?”
“My own father nearly beat my lover to death in front of me. I was forced to watch the life drain from his eyes. I begged and begged for him to stop, to let him live! Maybe he would have, if it wasn’t for the lady of the house to spread a rumor that the butler's son came onto me against my will. My father didn’t want to believe that his son was a fairy, and so my lover was sentenced to hang. I visited him for the very last time when he was shackled, malnourished, and begging for death to take him. I stayed with him all night, praying that the sun would never rise. The following morning I was forced to watch him hang. Every single spectator in the crowd, except for me, cheered for the death of another fairy!” He used the back of his hand to swiftly wipe at his eyes when his tears began to well and roll down his cheeks.
“He was buried in an unmarked grave and I went through with marrying the lady of the house. I wasn’t given another choice, and on the night of our wedding, she whispered to me that she knew the truth, and that she wouldn’t hesitate to blackmail me for it.”
“I’m so sorry, sir. Your lover—you, I’m so sorry. I do not understand why people are so cruel and hateful. Love is love, is it not?”
“Please do not sympathize with me, Joel. I do not seek your sympathy. I am telling you this because if you do not swallow your feelings for my daughter, you will surely face the same fate that my lover did! Don’t you understand? She has been promised to another. She meets with the banker's son tonight and in time, they will be married. It is her duty and expectation. And you will have the choice to marry the lady I have chosen for you. Your love for my daughter will fade, and you will be grateful that it did.”
“How dare you! How dare you stand there—you coward! You could have been with your lover now if you had run away together! You had the opportunity, and didn’t seize it?! Don’t stand there and claim that my love for your daughter will fade, when yours for your dead lover has not! You stand there, weeping for him! Your life could have been different—”
Crack
Your fathers cruel fist made direct contact with Joel’s beautiful nose, the force of impact sending him stumbling backwards, clutching his face in despair as blood trickled and dripped between the grooves of his fingers, staining the golden threaded hearthrug in splotches of crimson.
“Get the fuck out of my office. It is clear that you have forgotten your place, boy. You will never marry the likes of my daughter.”
Joel retreated through the office doors with what remained of his dignity. He confided in your father purely out of trust, and he thought it was a mutual feeling. For the rest of the afternoon, leading into the evening, you did not see your Joel.
-
The banker’s son was polite, well-mannered, but goodness—was he a bore. You had no interest in hearing him drone on about the stock market in New York City. He didn’t bother to ask you about you, or your interests as they were already predisposed by your mother.
Fucking cunt.
He strolled with you in the gardens with your hand lightly grasping onto his elbow. Your eyes wandered off, in search for that familiar stature, and head of distinguishable dark curls as you passed by the stables, but your Joel was nowhere to be found. Your heart sank and you asked the banker’s son, Timothy, if he would mind giving you a moment of privacy in the garden's gazebo. He obliged, but not before he could press an affectionate kiss to the outside of your hand. The bristles in his perfectly groomed mustache tickled your skin before he reluctantly pulled away.
You let out a sigh of relief, your posture returning to a relaxed state as you watched him walk back towards the festivities inside. When you were certain that he was not lingering, you began to nervously pace the short distance inside of the gazebo, muttering about how Joel would never just leave you like this, would he?
Where the fuck was he?
Then you heard it, the groaning of the tired wood beneath his boots, and that warm, deep rasp in his voice. “My dearest.” He croaked, and you immediately knew something was wrong, something had happened. His voice sounded far more nasally, and when you turned around to face him, that’s when you noticed the dry, crusted blood beneath his fractured nose, the rusted blood stains in his white shirt. You ran to him, delicately cradling his beautiful face in your palms.
“My Joel!” You cried, “what has happened? Who has done this to you! Your nose—your beautiful nose!”
“Hush, my darling. It’s—just a fracture, lover. It will heal.” He lowered his tone to a whisper, his hands slowly coming to rest around your waist. “It does not matter who did this to me, my dearest.”
“How can you say such a thing? Joel, please, my love, who did this to you?” You softly begged, thumbs gently stroking the scruff speckled on his strong jaw.
“Your father.” He murmured, bitterness laced in his words.
“What?” You murmured in disbelief, dropping your hands from his face, refusing to believe it. “Why would he do such a thing to you! Joel, please, please tell me what happened!”
“My love, please promise you will not hate me for what I am about to utter. Swear to me that you won’t.” He pleaded, tightening his grip around your waist in fear that you would slip between his fingers like grains of sand.
“I swear it.”
“He knows about us, my dearest. He knows that I love you, and you love me. He knows that you cannot bear children because I am the one who confided in him this afternoon. I did it in hopes that he would understand, and stop the banker's son from courting you tonight. I—I thought maybe we wouldn’t have to run away, and we would be accepted as lovers!”
“Oh Joel, they will never accept us! You stupid, stupid, beautiful little fool.” You sniffled sadly, feeling your tears oncoming. “You are too good for this world and everyone in it! Your heart is made of pure gold, and I love you for it, but now you have put yourself in grave danger! That was so fucking stupid of you to do, lover.”
“My sweet, I may be a fool, but what else is a man to do when he is in love? Your father knows, yes, but now we must seize our opportunity to leave, tonight! The party is in full swing, is it not? No one will notice your absence, my dearest. If we don’t leave tonight, I fear we will never have another chance at eternal happiness.”
You swallow down your tears, melting into his embrace and his words. “The banker’s son waits for me inside, it will be suspicious if I do not return to him within the hour…” you trailed off.
“Are you having your doubts, my love?”
“No, no! Of course not. I am in fear that we will be caught if we aren’t careful, my Joel. I will return to him and you will go to my chambers. Lock the doors and do not open them for anyone. Take the back entrance, through the kitchens! No one will see you, I swear it.” You reached for his hands on your waist, interlocking your fingers through his.
“And you? I cannot fathom thinking of the banker’s son touching—”
“My Joel, please do not allow your thoughts to sour. I am expected to dance with him and when the timing is right, I will come find you. I promise.”
He nodded, bringing your clasped hands up to his face so he could kiss your knuckles, wincing from the dull ache in his nose.
“Together?” He murmured, eyes locking onto yours.
“Always.”
You parted ways after he kissed you, promising you that all this pain would be worth it in the end, and of course, you believed him, for what else is a girl to do when she is in love?
You returned to Timothy’s side, assuring him that you just needed to be alone with your thoughts. He was an understanding man, and you could understand why your father assumed that he would be a perfect match for you, but no one would ever be your Joel. And while you danced, and made small talk with him and his friends, Joel was making his way through the kitchens, ducking into one of the main hallways, muscle memory guiding him the way to your chambers, but unbeknownst to him, he was being followed.
It was a quarter to midnight and your lover could hear the party growing rowdier by the minute even behind your locked doors. He grew weary, doubts settling into his mind that perhaps you had forgotten him. Perhaps you were having a good time with the fucking bankers son. His spirits lifted when he heard the sound of a key being inserted in the lock. He sprung up from the edge of your perfectly made up bed, heart racing in his chest when the doors opened.
His face fell, blood running ice cold when the person revealed behind the door was not you, but the lady who was promised to him by your father. He took a step back, palms growing clammy.
“How did I know that you would be lingering in her chambers, Joel?” She closed the doors behind her and locked them for good measure. “What would her father say if he knew you were in here…hmm?”
“You fucking followed me here, didn’t you, Lady Florence?” He seethed, feeling like an animal trapped in the corner with nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
“Because you were promised to me, or have you forgotten?” She cocked a brow in his direction, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I never approached you. Never even attempted to court you. Just because her father promised me to you, doesn’t fucking mean shit until actions are taken after words.” He snapped.
“I suppose, but then again, you’re in a not so favorable position, Joel. Trespassing after hours, and in his daughter's chambers nonetheless? I’m almost certain you would hang for such a crime.” She mused, stepping closer to where he had tucked himself nearly into a corner closest to the window. “Perhaps he would love to hear how I caught you and his daughter fucking in the gardens a few weeks back. How truly reckless of you both.” She tsked.
He scoffed at her attempt at blackmailing him in such a petty way. “Your threats are made in vain. Her father already knows about my love for his daughter. He’s well aware, and you look fucking desperate and pathetic at your attempt to blackmail me.”
“Blackmail you? Joel, you have me all wrong!” She laughed, “I don’t have the heart to blackmail you!”
“Then what the fuck do you call what you just attempted to do, hmm? Don’t take me for a fool! You are nothing but a jealous little—”
“Joel? It’s me, my love. I don’t have my key…someone must have nicked it!” You whispered through the outside of the closed door, looking around the vacant hallway anxiously. “Are you in there?”
He strode past Florence, shoulder checking her on his way to the door and quickly unlocked it, ushering you inside before closing and locking it again.
Your eyes landed on his face, and then trailed over his shoulder to Florence, one of your ladies, who you had believed up until this point was loyal, and not a conniving little—
“Lady Florence? What are you doing in my chambers? What is going on?!”
Joel reached for bare forearm with a gentle grip to pull you back. “My dearest, it isn’t what you think! Lady Florence is the one who nicked your key and followed me to your chambers! She cornered me, threatened me with blackmail, and claimed that she caught you and I in the gardens weeks ago!”
“Is this true?” You felt saddened, betrayed, and disappointed. “Flo, how could you do such a thing to me? I thought we were friends!”
“My lady—he lies! I never would steal from you, he is the one to corner me! He sought me out, forcing me into your chambers—” she lied between her teeth, digging herself in a graver hole than she was planning.
“LIAR!” you yelled, ripping your arm from Joel’s grasp, “he would never lay a hand on a lady, nor pressure her! You speak only of lies Florence!”
“Lover! We do not have the time for this! We have to go, we have to go now!” Joel urged you from behind, reaching for your arm again. “She isn’t worth it! Please, we must—”
And then you heard your fathers voice booming down the hall. Your biggest fear was coming true, and now there was nowhere for you or Joel to hide when the doors bursted open, the locking mechanism snapping in half from the force of your father.
“What is the meaning of this?!” He demanded.
Lady Florence, being the snake in the grass that she was, immediately flocked to your fathers side. “Sir! You arrived just in time!” She said exasperatedly, “Your daughter was in her chambers freshening up and I went to go check on her, being the good friend that I am, when I heard her dreadful scream! I came upon the heinous crime of the filthy stable hand taking your daughter against her will!” She wept her crocodile tears. “He threatened to—”
Your father wasn’t buying it for he knew that Florence was a terrible liar, and a rotten friend. “Lady Florence, this does not concern you. Return to the party immediately, and speak this to no one.”
“But sir—”
“GET OUT!” He yelled, pointing an accusatory finger at her. She narrowed her eyes at both you and Joel before slinking out of the room, closing the doors behind her.
You immediately stepped in front of Joel, silently vowing to protect him no matter what would happen, you would not allow your father to harm another hair upon your lover's head.
“Daddy, please, I love him! Please, let us be! I know it goes against what is expected of me, but Joel is a good man! He has only ever been good to me, father!”
“Your mother will never allow it, daughter. All Joel has done is tempted you and filled your head with fantasies! You have been promised to the banker's son and that is final! You think of me to be cruel, but I am only doing what is best for you!”
“I do not care what you think is best for me, father! I do not want to marry the banker's son! I wish to be happy with my one love, and I do not care if that means that you and mother will exile me! I do not care that it means I will no longer live a life of riches! I am rich in love and happiness with him by my side!”
Your father ignored your pleas, even when you clung to his arm and dug your heels in the ground to stop him from advancing towards Joel. “Please, father! Please! I am begging you to leave him be!” You cried, and your words were caught in your throat when the backside of your fathers ring clad hand made swift contact with your cheek, sending you tumbling to the floor in shock. All Joel could see was red behind his eyes when your fathers hand made contact with your cheek. He sprung into action, but your father, despite his age, was quick, ready for Joel’s attack.
“YOU DARE FUCKIN’ LAY A HAND ON HER?!” Your lover yelled with a rage you had never heard leave his lips, “I’LL FUCKIN’ KILL YOU IF YOU LAY A HAND UPON HER AGAIN!”
Your father used Joel’s rage to his advantage, letting the younger man assume he had control of the situation when he was shoved against your tall, wooden chifferobe.
“STOP IT! PLEASE!” You cried, “BOTH OF YOU, PLEASE STOP!”
In your moment of distress, Joel was distracted for a millisecond too long when your fathers fist connected with Joel’s jaw, sending him stumbling back. He landed another hit, and then another, weakening Joel enough that he crumbled to his knees, bringing his arms over his head to block out the fists raining down upon him.
Your father was relentless, grabbing your lover by the back of his neck, yanking it upwards so he was forced to look up at the older man from his knees. He bent down to his level, getting close to his ear and whispered only for him to hear “I warned you this would end badly if you weren’t careful, boy.”
Joel spit a mixture of congealed blood and saliva directly onto his face, spattering it in speckles of crimson. “Fuck you, you coward.” He hissed between gritted teeth.
Your fathers fist trembled, his hand surely was broken, but all he could think about was how he was forced to watch his own lover be beaten in the same fashion, and now he was on the delivering end of it. “Get out.” He seethed. “Leave the property before lady Florence runs her large mouth to the lady of the house and spreads a false rumor about you and my daughter. Leave before I change my mind, Joel.”
Defeat; complete and utter defeat is all Joel Miller felt in his bones when your father released him with a rough shove to the ground. He struggled to sit up, coughing up more blood, and when you attempted to crawl to his side, your father grasped your elbow and yanked you to the door.
your fading screams of his name echoed down the hall as your father dragged you further and further away.
Bruised, beaten, and feeling hopeless, Joel Miller forced himself to his feet and obeyed your fathers word to leave while he still had the chance. He felt like a coward now, but what else could he do? If he stayed, surely he would face the gallows for a crime that he didn’t commit. Lady Florence had infact gone to run her big mouth to the lady of the house, claiming that Joel Miller raped you in your bed chambers. It was of course a fabricated lie, and only lady Florence, Joel, your father, and you knew the truth.
June 4th, 1844
My Dearest,
I am deeply remorseful for the events that transcribed three days ago. I know I have put you in an undesirable situation now with your father’s wishes for your arranged marriage to the rich banker's son. Forgive me, for I don’t care to remember his name. My dearest, do not put the blame upon yourself. If we had known that there were prying, hateful eyes watching us, I would have waited for you in the stables and not inside your chambers. Jealousy drives even the sanest of people to do the unforgivable. The deep wounds your father has inflicted upon me will heal, but my heart? Oh, how it aches for you, my dearest. If I were not a coward, I would turn back and face the gallows just to see your face one last time, for what else is a man to do when he is in love? I’m heading west, like we planned in the gardens, in hopes that you will follow me and go against your father’s wishes. Please write to me soon, tell me that you are safe, and grace me with your sweet words.
Your devoted Joel
Unspecified date.
My Joel,
I write this to you in secret. My words are only for your eyes, and when you receive my letter, tell no one, my lover. Father is angry, so very angry, and mother only speaks of hate towards you. She is determined to make me press charges against you to hang for a crime you did not commit! Father won’t stand for it and instead we have abandoned the estate, left all of our belongings including our dear horses! They will not tell me where we are going, but I miss you terribly, my Joel. My brothers have been free to marry by their choosing, but I? I cannot. It’s rather cruel, isn’t it? To be given one life and since birth, since I first opened my eyes and gazed upon the new world, my choice has been stolen from my grasp. Oh, my Joel, you speak in sorrows, but the fault lands upon my shoulders. I’m so sorry, lover. I should have been more careful and discreet with our planned rendezvous. I deeply loathe Lady Florence for spying upon us! You are right of her jealousy, and now she claims to be remorseful! Oh, I feel your lips now. Your kiss, your touch upon my skin. My love for you has not weakened, I promise. Hold my words close to your heart, my Joel. I fear I will not be able to write to you again, but I will try, for you. My Joel, you are in my thoughts, always.
You have my heart,
Your Dearest.
-
January 1848, one hour after dusk
The decision to leave Texas and travel to New York to stop yours and the banker’s son’s wedding could quite possibly be the last thing that Joel Miller would ever do. But how could he sleep at night knowing that you were out there, somewhere in the city, thousands of miles away. You had not written to him in so long, but that didn’t deter him from following his heart back to you. He couldn’t fathom life without you in it any longer, and what else is a man to do when he is in love?
That’s how he found himself in the familiar stables, the horses peeking their heads out from their stalls and nickering softly to him in greeting. He kept the single letter you wrote to him safely tucked away in the pocket of his coat, rucksack thrown over his shoulder with what little belongings he possessed. After a new family moved into your home he was given a higher title, a warm bed to sleep in, and he could have married his new boss's daughter and lived a comfortable, happy life, but he declined, for she would never be you, his dearest. Despite turning down every single one of her affections, she still lingered, hoping that one day she would be good enough for his affections and heart.
He was frantically tacking up Sunfyre, cinching up the girth when the barn doors creeped open and Phoebe, his boss’s daughter appeared.
“Joel?” She whispered through the cool evening air, lantern in hand to peer into the low-lit stalls, “what…are you doing?”
He let out a sigh, dropping his hand from the girth and turned around to face her, “lady Phoebe, it’s late. You shouldn’t be out after hours.”
“Neither should you.” She chastised. “Where are you going at this hour, Joel?”
“My lady, that is none of your business. Please, return home. Forget that you ever saw me.”
“You’re going after her, aren’t you? Joel, it’s been years, and she has only written back to you once! It’s in all the papers that she is marrying the banker's son. You could be happy here, with me.” She whispered the last bit, feeling her heart ache for a man who would never feel the same for her.
“Lady Phoebe, “You are a dear friend to me, but I cannot love you, for my heart belongs to another.”
“But I can love you, Joel. I’m right here! She is thousands of miles away and—”
“She is my love, my one true love, and I’ll be damned if I don’t follow my heart. Your heart sings for me, but it’s not my tune to hear. You will belong to another, I promise.” He moved from Sunfyre’s side, grasping Phoebe's hands gently in his calloused palms, “you have to let me, and what could never be between us go.”
-
May 6th, 1848
My Joel, if you’re out there…please, please come find me, lover.
Your Joel wasn’t even sure how the fuck he was supposed to find you in a city as large as New York City. All he knew is that today you were expected to marry the banker’s son, and he would be damned if he didn’t stop this wedding from happening. He asked nearly every passbery in the street if they knew where the biggest wedding of the month would be taking place. It took less time than expected to find his answer, and once he did, he rented the finest suit that he could afford, tucked the ring box safely in his suit pocket, and rode to the chapel.
The wedding bells were already beginning to sweetly chime, and he felt his blood run cold at the sound. Was he too late? He would never forgive himself if he was.
“If anyone here, in this room objects to the unifying marriage between this man and woman, speak now or forever hold your peace.” The officiant spoke at the head of the altar, just as the doors leading into the chapel burst open.
“I OBJECT!” Joel’s familiar voice boomed up the aisle. Hushed murmurs, and surprised gasps echoed throughout the chapel when your eyes landed upon your Joel. All time ceased as you dropped Timothy’s hands, racing down the aisle, the train of your perfectly fitted wedding dress dragged behind you.
Tears flooded your eyes as you threw yourself into your lover's embrace, clinging to him in disbelief with your hands cradling his face. “MY JOEL, YOU CAME FOR ME!”
“Of course I did, my dearest. For what else is a man to do when he is in love?” He murmured, unable to truly process all the feelings he was experiencing at once. But what did it truly matter? The time apart was years, but it was all worth it leading up to this moment.
Your father was already making his way down the aisle, followed by your mother and Timothy when Joel grasped your hand tightly in his and whisked you down the aisle towards the exit. He wasn’t going to let them take you away from him again, not this time.
His grip on your hand did not loosen at the harsh sound of your fathers voice, and even when you were running down the chapel steps in unison, he did not let go until you and him were safely tucked behind a wall of a building, out of sight from the wedding party.
He kept you safely caged against the wall, a burst of memories from the night of firsts that you shared together all those years ago. “My dearest,” he breathed, “I thought I was too late! I thought the wedding already happened and you—”
“My Joel, I—I never thought I would see you again! I only ever received your single letter and I thought that you had moved on, that you had forgotten about me!”
“What?” He shook his head, brows furrowed as he grabbed your hands and brought them to his lips, kissing every inch of your skin there. “My Dearest, I wrote to you many, many times! Did you receive all of my letters? I thought the same! I thought you forgot about your Joel.” He admitted quietly.
“Fuck! I bet it was mother, or father! I bet they were keeping your letters from me, lover! Maybe they thought that if I believed you had forgotten me, I would be more inclined to marry the banker’s son!”
“I would believe that to be true, my sweet. But none of that matters, okay? I’m here now. Your Joel is here, and I will never leave your side again.”
“I-I can’t believe you’re here! Oh, my Joel, I’m so sorry—for everything! I have not stopped thinking about you all these years, I swear it. My heart only has ever belonged to you. I wear his ring, but it means nothing to me!”
“Shh, my love. I know, I know. My heart has only ever belonged to you, my dearest. Only to you. Fuck his ring. I will remove it from your finger so you never have to gaze upon it again.” He rasped, gently grabbing your left hand, scoffing at the enormous rock on your ring finger. “And I will replace it with my own.”
“Please, my Joel.”
He slipped the banker’s son’s ring off of your finger, tucking it into his pocket before he pulled out his own ring box, revealing a smaller, dainter ring beneath the velvet cover.
“It’s not much, and I’m sorry that I couldn’t grace your finger with the largest diamond the world has ever seen, but—I love you, dearest. I came all this way because I couldn’t possibly fathom the thought of losing you to another. I have never loved another soul as I do you, and while I don’t have riches to offer you, shiny carriages, silver platters, I have my heart and I know that it’s worth something to you, darlin.’”
He slipped his ring onto your finger, where it always belonged, and then you finally kissed him, your lips meeting in gentle brush before he surged forward, kissing you with everything that he had to offer. He believed that he was hallucinating, that he was back in Texas, longing for you in his empty bed. But you were here, you were real beneath his fingertips as he licked sweetly into your mouth, hands splayed around your waist, holding you close.
“It’s perfect, my Joel.” You murmured against his lips.
“Only because the lady that wears it is the most beautiful in the entire world. Sunfyre is waiting for us down the street. We can go as far east, west, wherever your heart desires. I will love you eternally, and no one will ever keep us apart, my dearest. I swear it.”
“Let’s go home, my Joel. To Texas. Take me home.”
And so he did, for what else is a man to do when he is in love?
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#fic: my Joel#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller angst#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x you#joel tlou#joel the last of us#joel miller comfort#joel miller hurt/comfort#joel miller fluff#joel miller au#joel miller fic#joel miller story#joel miller imagine#regency!joel#regency!au
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JOEL MILLER FIC RECS
⇾ 18+ minors DNI, read at your own risk! ⇽
an appreciation to all my favourite writers out there you deserve all the love <3
Series
— Something To Fight For by @auteurdelabre | After a disastrous blind date you decide to stay away from the miserable Joel Miller forever...
— I Know Who You Are by @punkshort | A fall on patrol causes you to lose your long-term memory, forgetting the identities of your friends and loved ones. You have to learn all over again how to survive in a post-apocalyptic world, and you learn things about yourself along the way.
— The One You Need by @loliwrites | When you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at arm’s length, your neighbour Joel finds his way into your life.
— By The Grit Of Sandpaper by @penvisions | An offhand comment from you inspires Joel to branch out and create helpful kitchen wares. And it seems everyone has been gifted one from him, except for you. It makes you rethink the casual friendship you had developed...
— I Wanna Be Your Lover by @shellshocklove | Miserable after losing your job, your friend drags you out to a club to dance away your sadness. on the dancefloor, you meet a handsome stranger, who then whisks you away into his fantasy world as his assistant for his porn career. what happens when the lines get blurred?
— If The Door Wasn't Shut by @heartpascal | months of travelling with Joel and Ellie come crashing down on you, the fear is suffocating.
— Stay In Bed by @psychedelic-ink | After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance.
— That's A Real Fucking Legacy by @wyn-n-tonic | When Tommy disappears in search of a better life with a promise to come back for you, his years of absence and the grief it leaves behind drives you and his brother closer together until the man you're sharing a bed and starting a family with is Joel Miller and not the one you always thought it would be.
One-Shots
— No Time To Die by @davosmymaster | The main difficulty of being Joel’s closest friend is not falling in love with him, but you still do. Those feelings are buried until you join him on a mission to trade supplies with Bill and Frank. With your life now hanging by a thread, Joel is determined to get you to safety, but the clock is ticking faster than he can run.
— White Lies by @poeticpascal | Joel would do anything for you. He does anything for you. And he makes sure you don't know a thing.
— Saying Thanks by @vivwritescrappythings | Joel is your grumpy patrol partner who doesn’t even talk to you in the streets of Jackson. But one night a man grabs your arm at the Tipsy Bison, and Joel’s decided he doesn’t like it.
— Soft & Sweet by @cavillscurls | You share your first kiss with the last man you ever expected: your older, grouchy, overly protective patrol partner, Joel Miller.
— Who We Are by @gracieheartspedro | Being stuck on the road with an older guy you've been crushing on for ages won't be so bad, right? wrong. because he's been pining after you, too. and one of you will have to give in eventually.
— Warm Me Up by @tightjeansjavi | While on patrol, you and Joel find yourselves caught in a treacherous snowstorm.
— Love In the Time Of Cordyceps by @sameheart-sameblood | When the world ends, you promise you'll never love again. Joel Miller makes that rule hard to stick to.
— Puppy Love by @absurdthirst | You always follow Joel Miller around, you've got his back. You're in love with him. Putting up with Tess's nickname of puppy dog, you don't realize that Joel feels for you until the end.
— Light The Flame by @yeollie-plz | Your mom moves the two of you back to Texas and attempts to reignite an old flame. What will happen when she learns his candle now burns for you?
— Best I Ever Had by @endlessthxxghts | Someone tries to hit on you on your night out with Joel, insulting your man in the process, and oh you don't like that. You blow off some steam in more ways than one.
— Make A Move On Me by @freelancearsonist | You've been teasing Joel every day since he started remodelling construction on your house. He finally works up the courage to do something about it - but not in the way you expect him to.
— Fire Walk by @motherofagony | A chance encounter at a motel has you crossing paths with a stranger in a blue t-shirt.
— Cry Baby by @psychedelic-ink | bodies have been dropping left and right in the most brutal ways in Jackson. As the relentless wave of deaths continues, your mind becomes increasingly restless. however, you find a sense of comfort and solace in the presence of Joel. who might be hiding secrets of his own.
#joel miller#joel tlou#the last of us#joel miller x reader#joel fanfic#joel miller fanfic#joel miller au#joel miller fic#joel miller oneshot#joel miller smut#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x oc#joel miller angst#joel miller fluff#soft joel miller#joel miller blurb#joel miller masterlist#joel miller series#hbo joel miller#joel miller imagine#game joel miller#joel miller one shot#joel miller self insert
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Green
Chapter Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI)
Chapter Summary: Jackson believes in a green future, which includes marijuana. You like to get high. Tonight, Joel joins you and you get to treat him like he treats you.
Chapter Warnings: Smut, marijuana use, soft dom reader, sub Joel, m receiving oral, unprotected p in v, riding Joel's thick thigh, you bite Joel's stomach (because it has to be done), Joel watching himself masturbate in your mirror, Joel drinks water out of your hands.
Words: 5,100
Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader
Series Summary: Life in Jackson is quite comfortable and simple for you. You love teaching your students and running your library, you love the comforts of living here, perfectly complacent with the company of your two cats, guitar, tattered CD book, and a few friends. You like comfortable and simple, though the feelings you feel whenever you see Joel Miller are quite the opposite. Once you meet him, it seems like he needs you in his life as much as you need him.
Reader Background: Reader is in her 30's and comes from Colorado. No other physical descriptors besides her having long enough hair to put up.
A/N: Happy 4/20! Wanted to give you another entry akin to Golden Walkway, a little peek into the future again of these two.
Masterlist
Playlist
Times never change instead of hiding your illicit use from your parents, now you hide it from a teenager. Joel and you always going to your your house so you can get high, just in case Ellie needs something. Can’t be a bad influence.
“So you never really smoked much?” you ask as you pull the box of papers and weed out of the drawer before sitting down on your couch. You lean over your coffee table removing its contents and start to build your joint.
“Mm, never really was my thing, too risky if I got caught growing up in Texas during the Regan years. Had football eligibility to worry about ‘n then Sarah came, just never was the time for me.” Joel says as he leans back into your armchair his brown eyes intently watching your actions. You begin to crumble weed up and place it on your rolling paper.
“Ah, makes sense. It’s good for me when my nerves really get to me,” you begin to roll your joint, “helps kinda soften the harsh lines of reality a lot. Makes my body and my mind a little freer.”
You lick your cigarette closed and admire your handiwork, welcoming the anticipation of being with Joel while you’re stoned.
You grab a match, strike it against the box and spark your joint, rotating it in your mouth to light it up. Joel chuckles as you inhale the first hit.
“What’s so funny?” You ask in a cloud of your smoke as you exhale.
“Nothing. Maybe I should get high. Making me hard just watching you do this.”
“Oh yeah?” You sit back.
“Yeah, maybe I should start. Never was one for smoking though.”
“Hm, I can help. I can just blow the smoke into your mouth if you want to try it.” You lean forward wanting him to take you up on your offer.
“Sounds good sweetheart,” he nods and pats his lap. “Come sit with me, have nowhere to be tomorrow.”
You rest the joint between your lips, stand and grab the ashtray. Your bare feet pad across the plush carpet of the area rug as you walk over to Joel.
“Hi,” you smile out with a small puff of smoke.
“You look so cute like this, little cigarette sticking out of your mouth, eyes all cloudy and happy. Love it when my girl is happy.”
You giggle at his compliment as you lift your leg up to rest on the chair, your foot tightly fitting within what little room is left on the seat between Joel’s thick thighs. He looks up at you, his mouth slightly agape his usual furrowed brow a lot less creased, more relaxed.
“I am happy,” you answer as his hands begin to massage your calf. “You look a lot less grumpier than you normally look. That makes me happy.”
“Oh really?”
“Yep,” you say before inhaling another hit.
“Why don’t you make me happier and sit on my lap, that’d make me really happy darlin’.”
Turning your head to the side you blow out a plume of smoke as you place yourself on Joel’s lap, knees bent against his thighs and the armrests. You can feel the denim covered shape of his half hard cock against your cotton shorts. Your tits underneath your faded and holey t-shirt are right at Joel’s eye level.
“S’nice,” he says staring forward at your chest.
“My eyes are up here Joel,” you begin to laugh at your own joke, as you take another hit. You’re so high and happy, you’ve never been stoned and in love, it feels amazing.
“I’d tell you to knock it off, but your whole body’s shaking against me ’n your tits are bouncing in my face,” Joel grins as he kisses a breast through your shirt.
Fuck, now that feels amazing.
“Hold this,” you direct, handing him the joint.
He takes it between his fingers and watches as you lean back and remove your shirt. His eyes widening as he concentrates on your actions, so much for relaxed Joel. He holds up the joint, still in his hands, to your lips.
“Take a hit baby,” his voice gravels out, his cock hardening underneath, “‘n lemme have some.”
You inhale and move your mouth to his, forming a tight seal between the two of you. Joel welcomes the smoke and sucks in as you blow out.
You grab the joint from him as he exhales, a white cloud of smoke floating above the two of you. You take another pull off the joint, your body already feeling much lighter, your brain less complicated.
“Can I have that back?” Joel asks. “Want to do the same you did for me.”
You smile a silent agreement and hand him the joint, now a short stub. He brings it up to his mouth, holding it between his thumb and pointer, his large fingers making it practically disappear save for the glowing orange embers that light as he takes a hit. He looks so fucking tempting as his cheeks slightly puff out. Everything Joel Miller does is hot, but the way he drags on a joint, his pillowy lips wrapping around the white paper, the way his broad shoulders rise as he breathes in, this might just be the hottest you’ve ever seen him. When will you ever get tired of looking at this man?
You bring your lips to his and he exhales into your mouth. Oh, this is the best way to get high. You pull away, releasing the smoke from your lungs.
“‘Bout shot, don’t you think?” Joel raises the joint up and looks at it.
“It’s shot,” you grab the ash tray from the table and hand it to him. He stubs out the joint and puts it back on the table.
He looks at you, his eyes heavier than usual, a little red and glazed. You’ve seen his eyes glazed over with lust numerous times, this glaze is a little lighter, a little happier. He sits back and you move farther up his lap so you can move a finger up to pet the smoothness of the little heart patch in his beard.
“How are you feeling?” You ask as Joel’s hands trace up and down your back.
“Good, real good,” a deep exhale out of his lips answers.
“Relaxed?” You ask as your finger moves to brush back and forth across his lips.
“Mm.”
You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this free before. A light smile, half shut eyes staring back at you, his whole face more relaxed. He looks good this way, you love when he’s happy and relaxed, you’ve never met anybody more deserving.
“Feels good,” Joel says as you rub your finger across his soft lower lip. A deep breath leaves his half parted lips, the air blowing against your finger. “Real good.”
“Good,” your hand moves to trace around his top lip, the hair of his mustache bristling against your digit as you move it back and forth. “I like making you feel good.”
You feel the the lines around his lips rise as he smiles at you. “You’re s’good at it baby.”
“Yeah? What do you like the most?”
“Hard t’pick. Love the way your eyes always blink as you cum for me, can always tells how good you’re feelin’ by how big your eyes get right before. Love the little gasp you always make when I start fuckin’ you. Love that you grab for my hands at any chance you get, like you need to touch me as much as you can. Love that you always need me.” The last sentence coming out the softest.
“I do need you,” you confess, “all the time, not even for all of the you know, sex stuff.”
“I know baby,” he hugs you against his chest, “I need you too… so much.”
“But, I do also really need you for the sex stuff, you know?"
Joel’s chuckle vibrates against you. “My girl’s funny, real funny.”
“But really, what do you need tonight Joel?” You pull away from his chest and look him in the eyes. You love it when he compliments you, you love it when he calls you his girl. You love that he needs you just as much as you need him.
“I need you to tell me what you want from me tonight. Make me yours. Talk to me like I talk t’ya.” Joel’s eyes staring into yours as they widen with his admission. “I’m yours baby.”
A bit of trepidation lands in your brain. Joel’s always the one to depend on to chart the stars of your intimacy. He’s so good at predicting what you want, you let him navigate. The thoughts are silenced once you feel his hands move along your hips and thighs. You can tell he wants you to do this for him. You want Joel to experience what you feel after he’s done with you. You want him to believe in you like you believe in him. You sit up higher on him, feeling braver and bolder. Ready to bless him for his confession.
“Okay. I’m going to get up, walk to the kitchen to get something to drink, and when I come back, I want you to stand in front of my mirrored wall over there. Keep your clothes on.”
You’re shocked by the confidence in your voice. Joel as well, his hands pause their movement as you speak. He stares at you, his mouth slightly open in surprise.
You rise up off of Joel, folding your arms across your naked chest. “Understand?”
“Y-y-yes,” Joel stutters.
“Good,” you wink and turn towards the kitchen, your confident steps leaving a bewildered Joel in your chair. You’ve never acted like this, your brain swirling with ideas of what you want to do, what you want to say, how you want to make him feel.
You grab two glasses out of your cupboard and fill them with water. Your mouth is parched, you’re sure Joel’s is too. You walk back to your living room, your courage building with each step closer. You know you’re ready when you see Joel standing as instructed in front of your mirror.
“Hi handsome,” you walk to stand behind him, still topless and only in your shorts, his eyes moving from looking at his own reflection to your chest. You wouldn’t expect less from him, you love how he looks at you.
“Hi,” Joel whispers. You think he’s a little nervous, a little excited, he probably feels exactly how you feel.
“I’m going to watch you watch yourself get undressed. I want you to listen to me and follow my directions, okay?”
“Yes,” his simple answer resolutely spoken as you put the waters down and turn the lamp on besides you, the light bathing both of you in a smoldering golden hue. You want to fully be able to watch Joel do what you have planned for him.
“Good, I don’t want to hear much from you, okay? I’m the one talking.”
You like this feeling, you especially like the serious nod Joel gives you through the mirror.
“Take your shirt off.”
You watch Joel’s hands move to the hem of his t-shirt and lift it over his head.
“Give it to me,” you step forward and extend a hand out.
The soft gray fabric is still warm with Joel’s body heat as it hits your hand. You bring it to your nose and inhale his scent.
“You smell so good all the time. I love the scent of you.” You take one last sniff before putting his shirt on, his smell now encompassing you.
“Wh—“
“Quiet,” you interrupt Joel’s protest, “I don’t want to hear anything out of you, I want to smell like you and wear your shirt while I make you feel good.”
He looks a little annoyed, you like that.
“Look at your chest. It’s perfect. I love how your shoulders are so wide and so strong. I love how your arms are muscular and yet they’re so soft when I rest my head against them. I love how soft your stomach has gotten meaning you’re well fed and healthy. You like the praise baby?”
Joel nods as his eyes darken hearing you call him one of the pet names he always calls you.
“Unbutton and unzip your pants, but don’t take them off.” Your pussy getting wetter at the thought of the sights that you’re about to see, all directed by you. All broadcast on your mirror.
Joel nods, as he unbuttons his jeans, his fingers move to his zipper and pulls it down. You love that he never wears underwear when he comes over. You love how you can see the trail of hair from his belly button down to his bush. He’s the perfect amount of hairy. He’s the perfect amount of manly. He’s just fucking perfect.
“Good. You’re thirsty right?” He nods. You lean over to the table and pick up a glass of water. “Drink all of this. Want to watch your neck move as you swallow it down.”
Joel takes the glass and brings it to his lips, his eye contact not breaking with yours through the reflection. He takes a large gulp brows wrinkling with seriousness for the task at hand, no matter how significant or insignificant it is. It’s so Joel.
“I love watching you drink. I love how small the mug looks in your hand when you drink your coffee in the morning. I love how you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand after downing a whole glass of water when you’re hot. I love how gently form your lips around a glass of whiskey.” You finish your praise as he empties the glass, taking it from him and placing it on the table.
“Good. Feel better?”
He nods.
“Take your pants off,” you think of what Joel would say in this moment. “Lemme see all of you.”
He smirks as he starts to move his jeans down his hips, he knows you’re going to love this part. His cock springs out as it’s freed, fully erect and throbbing, you knew you’d get him good and hard with your attitude. He bends over to shuck his jeans fully off, kicking them to the side, and when he stands up, shoulders back, dick hard and ready to follow your instructions, you almost fall to your knees.
“God, you’re so fucking hot, baby,” you breathe out. His smirk still remains, he knows what he does to you.
Your eyes roam his body, he’s so large and so thick, his body screams protector. He’s your protector. He provides for you. You love that you get to love him and make him feel this way.
“I’m thirsty, why don’t you hand me my glass?” You love how seriously he follows your commands, like it’s the only thing that matters in the world. You love how powerful it makes you feel to see Joel readily do your every request.
Joel turns towards the table and picks up the glass, handing it to you.
“Thank you.”
Another nod.
You quickly drink the water down, save for the last quarter of it. “You’re still thirsty, aren’t you?”
This time it’s not just one slow nod from Joel, it’s three quick nods. He’s thirsty.
“Then come stand here in front of me.”
You’ve enjoyed watching him from a couple of feet back, standing far enough to be able to see all of him in the mirror. Now that he’s right in front of you though, this is how you like him the most. Right beside you.
You empty the rest of the water into your mouth, your cheeks swelling out with the amount you’re holding. You bring your palms up to your mouth and cup them together. Joel begins to breathe heavily as he watches you spit the water into your makeshift hand bowl.
“Now, drink it up,” you order.
He moves so fast, so eager to please. Joel’s head quickly craning down as his brown eyes look up at you. Your heart begins to race as his tongue comes out of his mouth and begins to lap up the water out of your hand. “I love how you’re looking up at me, you look at me the same way when you eat me out.”
Joel grunts as he leans further forward and starts to suck the water up from your hand, never breaking eye contact. The groove of his dimple getting deeper as his cheeks hollow and he sucks up all of the water.
Now you wear Joel’s cocky smirk just like his shirt. You get to know him like he knows you, you get to play with his body like he plays with yours.
“Very good.” You move your hands to wrap around his erection, the slickness of the water allowing you to easily stroke him. A gruff breath leaves Joel’s mouth, the air landing against your face. You only leave your hands on him for a couple pumps, just enough until he begins to arch his back. His eyes widen as you remove your hands, a small “mmf” is let out of his pursed lips.
“I know, I know, I know you want more. You’ll get it soon. You’re being real well behaved for me, aren’t you?”
Another nod. Joel still hasn’t spoken a word, you miss his voice but you also like to watch him challenge himself to stay quiet.
“Face the mirror again Joel.”
He likes it when you say his name, he’s told you so many times how he likes to hear your voice say his name.
“Touch yourself for me Joel.”
His heavy eyes slowly shut as he bites his bottom lip with a moan, he liked that… a lot. He opens his eyes and with a look of determination, he spits in his hand before moving it down and gripping his shaft as he looks at you for his next command.
“Stroke yourself for me.”
He begins to slowly pump himself, savoring and watching himself in the reflection. His gaze anchoring in on pleasuring himself.
You wonder when the last time he did this was.
“When’s the last time you made yourself cum?” His movements falter as he looks up at you and takes in your question. “Go ahead, you can talk, tell me.”
“That last night you were painting f’me,” a half smile shows up on his face as he begins to stroke again.
Now you’re the one who only nods, your words lost at his confession. “Go on,” you muster up. You need to hear more.
“Went to bed that night, ’n all I could see was your pretty eyes lookin’ up at me, how you looked in those overalls, I felt like I could still feel your lips on mine.” His strokes getting quicker, his hand pausing as he twists his hand around his tip. “Was so hard for you, had to take care of things before I could fall asleep.”
Your whole body shivers, his words making your pussy begin to drip out onto your shorts. The look of his face as he recalls his memories. Those words added to all of his others that prove to you again that you have Joel’s heart, mind and body. He is yours.
“God. Th—that’s good,” you breathe out, your eyes widening when you watch him bite his lip as he squeezes his cock. He has you flustered, and he knows, his mouth grinning into the signature cocky smirk he gets whenever you get like this. As if his sense of self blooms whenever he makes your heart race.
You can’t allow him this pleasure over you, you’re the one in control tonight. You remind yourself that this is what Joel wants. You steel yourself and stand a little taller.
“Stop,” you bark out.
He obeys, mouth slacking open in shock at your raised voice. His hand unwrapping from around himself.
“Good job, I think you were getting a little too comfortable, weren’t you?”
Joel just stares at you, seems he forgot to nod.
“I can’t let you have the power tonight, can I? Acknowledge me Joel.”
“N—no,” an actual stutter from Joel Miller’s mouth. Not a grunt, not a short one word answer, an actual nervous stutter.
“That’s right. Now, I think you’ve had too much fun putting on a show for me. Go sit in the middle of the couch.”
He nods, his broad frame passes by you, he doesn’t even take the time to look at you.
You follow behind and wait until he takes a seat. You love seeing Joel on your couch, in your bed, using one of your bowls to eat oatmeal out of. You love seeing him in your space, all comfortable and domestic, but seeing him now naked on your couch, his hard cock sitting straight up, his large hands sitting atop his strong thighs, shoulders taking up most of the backrest of his seat, sitting ready to listen to your commands. This is how you really like to see him. He’s fucking gorgeous.
“So, you had your fun with your body, I want to have my fun with your body,” you stand over him. Now your body gets to loom over his.
You bring the collar of Joel’s shirt up to your nose, inhale deeply and moan. “Have I told you before how much I love how your smell? Sometimes I’ll be wearing one of your shirts to bed I’ll smell your scent on it and it’ll make me wet while I’m trying to go to sleep.” The sound from Joel’s mouth makes you bolder. “One night, I might just knock on your door, in only your shirt and my jacket, make you help me take care of what smelling you does to me. Would you like that?”
Joel shudders and furiously nods.
“Ohh, had a feeling you would,” you chuckle as you remove his shirt off of you. “I’m going to do something I've been wanting to do, okay?”
A nod, a groan, and a sigh now. The more reactions you get at once, the more you know how good you’re doing.
You pull down your shorts, and kick them aside. His fingers grip into his thighs, his forearms straining at the sight of you. He’s going through it.
“Can you see me glisten for you baby?” You ask as you lift your foot onto the couch cushion and snake your hand down in between your legs. “See how wet I got watching you touch yourself for me?” You take a finger and run it across your folds gathering your wetness. You hold it up for Joel, his eyes glued to your finger. “Open your mouth.”
He listens. You slide your finger into his mouth, his lips forming around it, a low moan vibrating against it.
“Put your hands on the couch, you can’t touch me, you can only watch. Okay?”
Joel obeys. He still sucks your finger as you straddle his thigh. His skin radiates heat against you once you place your wet pussy on it. You’ve wanted to do this since you saw his bare legs for the first time, his thighs are so muscular and yet so supple, much like the rest of his features. Joel groans as you begin to ride his thigh, rubbing yourself back and forth against his skin.
“You like how wet my pussy feels on your thigh?” You pull your finger out of his mouth. “Answer me Joel. Want to hear your voice.”
“Yes.”
“What do you like?”
“Your wet pussy on my th— I like your wet pussy on my thigh,” his low cadence and the pressure against your aching cunt pushing you close to your orgasm.
“I’m going to make myself cum on your thigh, okay? I’m so close.” You begin to grind your hips down on his his thigh, putting the perfect amount of friction against your clit.
Your hands splay against Joel’s chest, feeling his breaths and his moans rumble against your palms.
“I’m gonna cum on your thigh Joel.” You grab and pull on his chest hair as your climax reaches you, cresting over and spilling onto Joel’s thigh as you grind against it. Joel’s eyes boring into you looking forlorn and tortured that he can’t touch you as you cum on him.
You rest your head against his shoulder as you catch your breath. You need to recover quickly, you’re ready to ride him.
Joel grumbles as you stand back up.
“Would you look at that? Look down baby, look how wet I got your thigh.” You place your hands on his thighs, a hand resting in the puddle of your slick left on his skin. You lean forward as he looks down and nibble the bare skin of his heart patch before licking your way down his neck and chest. “Should probably clean that up, huh?” You ask as your rest your lips against the plush of his belly before gently biting it.
He groans as you move your mouth down, bypassing his hard cock to the side. You stick your tongue out and lick a long stripe up his thigh tasting yourself as you clean his skin. His breathing turns more labored as he watches you lick yourself up.
“Mm, wonder how I’d taste licking my cum off your cock?” You ask, nuzzling your head into his crotch, his hard cock throbbing against your cheek.
His hips jut as you turn your head and kiss the shaft of him.
“You’re going to cum fast for me, aren’t you?” You leave a kiss on his shaft higher than your last one.
“I love how hard you always cum for me,” another kiss moving your way up his hardness.
“I love the way you fuck my mouth while you cum down my throat,” another kiss.
“I love the way my name sounds as you chant it when I make your legs shake,” another kiss right under his tip.
“I love how your cum tastes as I lick it from my lips,” another kiss on his tip, tasting the precum collected on it.
“Fuck,” he finally utters, not being able to hold back as you lick along the trail of where you just kissed him.
“Shhhh,” you silence against the soft skin of his firmness. “I think it’s about time for me to fuck you, before you get any more ideas about talking.”
Another deep exhale from him, his nose flaring in frustration. You fucking love this.
“Put your hands on the top of your head, and don’t you dare lower them. Don’t touch me, okay?”
Joel nods raising his hands as you plant yourself back on the couch, straddling his legs. His eyes follow your body, his brows a bit more furrowed now.
You hover your pussy over his cock, leaving enough space between the two of you that if he really wanted, he could raise his hips and stick his cock in, but he doesn’t. He wants to do good for you.
“Open your mouth,” you angle your head forward, your lips right in front of his. Joel’s mouth opens, his heavy breathing hitting you in the face, as you lick into his mouth.
You swirl your hips over his cock slowly lowering yourself on him, you’re so soaked for him he easily slides into you.
A long sigh escapes the back of his throat as you begin to ride him. You pull back from his mouth and rest your hands against his chest. His hands still sit on top of his head, you glance up and see how he’s grabbing at his hair in exasperation.
He watches as you move your hands from his chest to yours, cupping your breasts and playing with your nipples.
“Like watching me touch my tits like the way you do? Like how I pinch and pull my nipples like you?”
High pitched moans and groans of frustration leave his mouth. Joel Miller is whimpering.
“Shhhh, shhh, I know baby. Now quiet. Want to hear my wet pussy ride you, stay quiet,” you say grabbing his jaw and pushing his mouth shut.
You begin fucking him harder, the sound of your wet cunt bouncing on him and his whimpers the only sounds in the room. You lean forward and rest your head in the juncture between his head and shoulder. You slam yourself up and down on him, the rapidness of your movements matching the rapidness of your heart as you bring yourself close to your orgasm.
Your back straightens as you place your hands on his biceps, staring in his big brown eyes as your body snaps, your pussy clutching his cock as you cum around Joel. He bites his bottom lip fighting his orgasm for as long as he can. His biceps straining against your grasp as you feel his body begin to quake.
“Clooooose,” he husks. You slip out of him, moving quickly on shaky legs through the aftershocks of your orgasm kneeling down in front of him. His hands are still in his hair as he looks down at you, watching you seal your mouth over him. You bob your head up and down on him as he cums down your throat.
You swallow all of him down as he chants your name. His hands lower, resting against the hollows of your cheeks as you still keep his softening cock in your mouth.
You stare up at him, his hair left awry and twisted from his hands, eyes wide and still blown out as he blinks down at you, his chest rising and falling still catching his breath. He looks at you, like you’re the only thing in this world. You are the center of his universe.
#tw marijuana#joel miller#pedro pascal#joel miller ff#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#pedro pascal character fanfiction#joel miller/reader#pedro pascal fanfiction#the last of us fanfiction#elks#joel the last of us
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morning, baby;
content warnings/tags: nsfw, contains smut, nipple play, choking (slightly), sex on the kitchen countertop, joel miller x reader.
You wake up to the smell of coffee drifting up the stairs and roll over onto your back with a groan as the sun shines on your eyes. You smile when you hear Joel downstairs making breakfast for the two of you, it's just so blissfully domestic. You stretch your whole body as you give a satisfied sigh, then grab the nearest item of clothing, which just happens to be Joel's denim shirt from the day before. You yawn as you slip it on, carelessly fastening enough buttons up so you're not completely exposed and make your way downstairs.
You make a beeline for the coffee machine, eyes still tired and mind still sleepy, you really needed some caffeine to wake you up. You put your mug under the spout, press the button and yawn while stretching again, with your arms up in the air, when warm hands gently snake around your waist from behind you. "Hey, that's my shirt," Joel teases, his already deep voice even deeper in the morning. He peppers kisses on the back of your neck; you can't help but smile as he pushes the collar of the shirt to the side a little with his nose so he can trail his lips across your shoulders. "Morning, baby," he whispers between kisses.
When he presses up behind you nice and close, his sweatpants leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. "How do you look so beautiful right when you wake up, hmm? " He asks in a low voice, nearly a growl. He's such a sweet talker, you giggle despite yourself. He traces kisses along the bone of your shoulder while cupping your breasts. You smile at his actions, leaning into his hands and melting into his touch, "You're right, you're so lucky, babe," you say playfully, turning your head to kiss him on the cheek. He hums in your ear in response, nipping at the sensitive skin behind it, grinding his hard on into your ass at the same time.
"Mmm, someone's frisky this morning," you say, cupping his face with your hand. His hands slide into the open front of the shirt to grab onto one of your breasts, while the other wraps loosely around your throat. You inhale sharply, gripping the countertop hard when Joel pinches your nipple sharply between his thumb and pointer finger, his hand flexing against your throat. You both knew exactly where this was going, you make a low keening noise in your chest with need. Before you could react, he picks you up by the waist and spins you around, dropping you on the opposite kitchen counter.
You gasp as the cold, hard surface touches the heated skin on the back of your thighs. He places himself in between your spread legs and claims your lips into a heated kiss as you wrap both legs around his waist and grab his thick hair with both hands. He scratches his blunt nails down the length of your back, making you moan into his mouth. Joel's poor shirt doesn't stand a chance as he pulls apart both sides of the shirt you're wearing, you could hear buttons bouncing somewhere in the distance. He dips his head down to kiss on each of your now pebbled nubs as his hands explore every part of your exposed body. Being as in love with your nipples as he was, he goes right back to lick your right nipple while rubbing his thumb back and forth over your left one - occasionally giving it a little pinch - before putting his whole mouth over it to suck on and run his tongue across it. He does this while alternating the actions between the two nipples, paying equal attention to both.
You whimper, body vibrating with desire, as you grip his hair harder. Both of his hands then grab your hips, pulling you forward roughly to the edge of the counter. He pulls his sweats down and brings himself closer to you, teasing your lips with his tip, causing you to shiver. You could tell he's worked up by the way his eyes are serious and focused, concentrated on the pleasure. Before you could even draw a breath in, he buries himself into you to the hilt. Never truly getting used to the sheer size of his dick, you gasp but quickly sigh happily at the feeling, your head thrown back as Joel's lips are on your shoulder, nipping and sucking your skin.
He starts with a deep and harsh pace, thrusting slow, but hard enough to make you jerk forward, gasping with your mouth agape. Your moans get louder as he kisses your collarbone and makes his way up your neck to your jawline, making you clench around him on his next harsh thrust. Joel lets out a groan so deep, it makes you somehow even more turned on than you already were. Searing heat and urgency coursing through your veins, you use your hand on the kitchen counter as leverage and start to thrust back against Joel, meeting his hips with your own.
You're over the moon with pleasure when he angles his thrusts to better hit your sweet spot. The first time he does this, your hand goes from gripping his hair to fisting the front of his t-shirt, twisting the fabric so hard you could rip it. With the pounding of Joel's hips at that angle, you can feel the coil deep in your stomach starting to tighten. You could tell he was just as close as you were, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. His face is flushed, biting his bottom lip with his eyes screwed shut and his forehead wrinkled with concentration, he looked so beautiful in this moment.
His hips start to stutter, desperately chasing his own high as he takes you. You tighten around him, coaxing his orgasm while lost in the pleasure yourself. When he gives a final, sharp thrust, you moan as the orgasm washes over you, your whole body quivering as he stills with a deep grunt. You're both breathing heavily still holding onto each other and your legs still wrapped around his waist. “I think it’s safe to say that we’ve worked up an appetite, baby,” Joel laughs, still slightly panting, "You're going to love the spread of breakfast I made you." Yup, domestic bliss indeed.
#joel miller smut#pedro pascal smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller#pedro pascal#the last of us#tlou#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal drabble#pedro pascal imagine#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller fluff#joel miller self insert#joel miller age gap#pedro pascal writing#joel miller blurb#the last of us smut#joel miller imagine#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal one shot#joel miller pedro pascal
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honeypie - joel miller
summary: part 2 to honey (can be read as a standalone, doesn’t have much to do with the original plot!)
warnings: not proofread, 18+, slight angst?, age gap (everyone is legal!!!!!), bickering/arguing, double date trope womp womp, degradation, dubcon, creampie, joel is a smidge misogynistic insecure and possessive
wc: 2.6k
a/n: this is mainly just some self indulgent yet rushed storytelling (so sorry, i wrote it in an hour because i was bored at work lol)! i wanna write a part 3 and actually include the beekeeping a little more but i have nooo idea how i’m gonna do it but we WILL get there one day babes!!! until then, enjoy this fluffy angsty sex 😽!!!💓
-
“If you guys are gonna bang when I’m in the house the least you could do is be quiet!” You heard Sarah shout from the other side of Joel’s bedroom door after banging on it.
Joel grimaced, his body tensing beneath you but you were almost oblivious to the complaints of your best friend. Almost.
You didn’t let up on your movements or noises whatsoever and as much as Joel loved those sweet little moans spewing from you as you humped against him, he loved his privacy much more especially when it came to his daughter.
You shook your head profusely when he attempted to get you to stop, insisting on how you were almost there.
“Soclosesoclosesoclose—just w-wait, I’m cu—fuck. Ahh, fuck, I’m cumming. Oh yes! Yesyesyesyesyes! Ohh—oh, my God—“
Joel covered your mouth with a clammy hand, feeling torn from his mixed feelings of lust and embarrassment.
Going downstairs didn’t help him feel any better either, especially when Sarah began berating you both, not that he blamed her for it.
“Call it payback for all the times I let you and your boyfriend have sex in my bed,” you retorted.
“In your bed?!” Joel mumbled to himself.
“Yeah yeah, could have at least waited until I was gone,” Sarah muttered.
“Sorry, Sar,” you hummed, “your dad is just really hot.”
She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Come on, man.”
“I didn’t even know you were home,” Joel complained. “You’ve been with Jared or whatever his name is all week.”
Sarah’s squinted her eyes, annoyed by the lack of care from her father. “Alex. His name is Alex dad—see, I hate this!”
“Oh, by the way, Sarah,” you said, pattering behind the kitchen counter, “wouldn’t use the open jar of honey if I were you.”
“UGH! EW! Fucking ew!”
♡
“Other than the obvious,” Sarah mumbled, “how’s my dad taking care of you?”
You wore a bright smile and looked away from your reflection momentarily. Joel was… Joel. Rough around the edges but he was a genuine person, confident in the external reality but a little insecure. Not unbearably insecure though, just enough to make you know he was trying his best.
He wasn’t the most romantic but you figured it was just from him being out of the game for so long and you knew you could train him to be more romantic if it was needed.
He didn’t push you aside or make attempts to subtly suggest you needed to leave after sex either; he’d pout real big and give you those gorgeous puppy dog eyes until you held him. He loved making you laugh.
But it definitely still felt like just sex rather than a relationship. You weren’t particularly complaining, but you weren’t bragging about it either.
“Good,” you answered.
Sarah could tell from your tone how honest it was. Good meant great, happy, damn near perfect.
“Good. I’m glad,” she said. “I was worried he’d be like one of those incels that get real creepy and pervy after thirty-five.”
“No, no, he’s great,” you reiterated. “He’s very funny. Smart. He asks me to tan in my bikini while he’s working on the hive or the yard.”
You watched from the corner of your makeup coated eye how tightly she grimaced.
“Images. In head. Don’t want them there,” she dramatized.
“I have to hear every last detail about you and Al up to where he’s shoving your cervix into your stomach. You can deal with a little sexiness from us,” you said.
“It’s just so weird,” she whined.
“Do you want me to stop seeing him?” You asked.
You had slowly began to worry about how this would affect your best friend over time, you knew it was a weird situation. You had no issue cutting Joel off if it meant Sarah got to be happy. There were other men in the world, there weren’t other Sarah’s.
“No, God! No. It’s just not as simple as I was expecting. You know?” She explained kindly.
“Totally! I’d be weirded out if you were hooking up with my dad while I was across the hall. I’m not blaming you there, or anywhere for that matter. Just know you come first.”
“Well, yeah, who else is going to wax your back hair and not judge you for it?” She teased.
You rolled your eyes at her.
“Lots of men with weird fetishes.”
♡
“Can’t believe I agreed to this,” Joel huffed.
He adjusted the waistband of his jeans making his shoulder briefly flare. You let your mind wander while Joel complained about the double date you had arranged with Sarah and Alex. You were currently waiting in the parking lot for them to arrive.
“It’ll be fun. You’ll get to meet Alex and see he is a respectable man and you and I get to pretend we’re a couple for a few hours.”
“Pretend?” Joel questioned. “W-what do you mean pretend? Are we not together?”
“Uh, no?” You said.
Joel didn’t appreciate your amused reaction and questioned you a little more.
“You never asked me to be your girlfriend— you haven’t even taken me on a date,” you explained. “Did you really think that conversation wasn’t necessary?”
“So if we’re not together then what is this?”
You sucked your teeth before simply saying, “Sex.”
Once the four of you were inside Sarah and her boyfriend felt the tension between the two of you.
You watched Joel punch in all of your names into the keypad before pressing ‘start game’.
“So Alex, what do you do for work?” Joel asked.
“Oh, well right now I’m working at a café downtown, but I’m majoring in political science to become a lawyer.”
“A lawyer?” Joel sounded impressed.
“Lawyers are great at communicating,” you antagonized. “They know what questions are… Important to ask.”
Joel rolled his eyes and motioned between you and the bowling balls. “Just go. Good God.”
“Dad, what did you do?” Sarah asked.
“Why do you assume it’s my fault?” He defended.
“Girl, what did he do?” She asked you.
Shrugging, you said, “I don’t know. Since Joel thinks he’s so great at communicating, maybe he should answer. I’m gonna go bowl.”
“Hope you gutter!” Joel shouted after you walked away. “She told me I needed to ask her to be my girlfriend.”
“You thought she was your girlfriend?!” Sarah said with wide eyes.
“Well… Yeah? Do I really need to verbally ask her that?”
“That’s why I got a strike, bitch,” you said while slapping the back of Joel’s head.
Sarah and Alex awkwardly stood up so that he could pretend to teach Sarah how to bowl properly. But the bickering between you and Joel didn’t end there.
“I thought it was obvious,” Joel told you. “I have you over all the time. We fuck. We laugh. Did I really need to ask?”
“So what would have happened if I pissed you off and you were to say ‘it’s not like you’re my girlfriend’?”
“I do not sound like that!” Joel scoffed. “And I would never do that to you, you know that. I just kinda figured you were mine, you know?”
You squinted at his unearned possession over you, feigning offense and scoffing obnoxiously.
“Yours? I’m not your property, Joel. You don’t get to claim me.”
“Oh yeah? And what are you goin’ to do about it? Fuck some other loser?”
You grinned, and immediately he regretted his words.
“That’s exactly what I’ll do,” you whispered.
Alex and Sarah sat back down and you asked if they wanted anything to eat or drink before walking away to go to the bar.
“Hi, what can I get for ya?” The boy at the counter asked.
“How old are you?”
“Nineteen, why?”
“You see the older man on lane twelve?”
He looked and then nodded.
“Well, I wanna make jealous so if you could just smile and pretend to flirt with me I’ll give you ten bucks,” you explained with a sly smirk.
“Fifteen,” he negotiated.
“Ugh, fine. Can I get two lemonades, a beer, and a water please?”
“That’s not coming out of my tip, is it?” He questioned whilst punching the order into his screen.
“It will if you don’t start looking at my boobs,” you said through your faux smile.
You leaned onto the counter and gave the employee a clear view of your cleavage, which he seemed to appreciate very much.
But Joel wasn’t only focused on the teenage boy behind the counter, he noticed the numerous men gawking at your short shorts that showed off too much of your ass with you bent over the counter the way you were.
“Dad,” Sarah’s voice brought him back to reality. “Your turn.”
By the time Joel managed to spare you had returned with everyone’s drinks and Joel didn’t give you the satisfying reaction of jealousy like you’d hoped.
Wondering if you went too far, you drank a bit of Joel’s beer to imprint a lip gloss stain for Joel to taste in between sips. Something you noticed he loved to do over the past few weeks whenever he made you coffee or tea. You never finished your drinks and Joel always lined his mouth up with your lip print to taste you every chance he got.
And as you gave him the cheap plastic cup that held his beer, you watched as he habitually sipped right where your lips had been. Occasionally licking the rim of the cup before taking his next swig.
A couple of games later, you and Sarah managed to team up against the boys and kick their asses each and every frame. They sulked while you two gloated from the ending of the final game all the way back to the cars.
“Okay, okay. We get it, girls rule, boys lose,” Alex said.
“It’s boys drool,” Sarah corrected before turning to hug her father who placed a kiss on her forehead. “Night, dad. I’m gonna stay at Alex’s.”
“Okay, babygirl. Call me tomorrow.”
“Oh, and word of advice,” Sarah whispered after you got into Joel’s car. “Girls like what boys consider pointless communication. Take her out a few times, make her feel special, and ask her to be your girlfriend. She really likes you, she’s just making you earn it.”
Joel softly smiled and nodded. “Mmkay. Thanks.”
Once he got in the car he didn’t acknowledge you in the least bit, finally free to punish you for letting those men get a free show.
“Not a word?” You nudged his arm as he drove. “You could ask me now.”
He snickered, the most noise he’s made in the last ten minutes.
“You don’t get to just fucking claim me, Joel!”
Joel sped up before pulling into a rest area.
“Come’ere,” he hoarsely demanded.
He unclipped his seatbelt and began undoing his belt and jeans.
“Don’t get all fuckin’ shy on me now, girl. Come on.”
You hesitated but unbuckled your seatbelt and climbed into his lap; he moved his seat all the way back and pushed his jeans low enough for his cock to spring up and slap his belly.
Instinctively you reached for it, but he removed your hand from his hardening length and held your wrists tightly behind your back with one hand. Using his other hand to grab your face by your cheeks he forced you to look into his cold eyes.
“Do you not want to be with me?” His voice strained as he asked that, a hint of hurt glaring in his dark eyes.
“Of course I want to be with you,” you answered.
“I don’t play games,” he said, gripping your wrists even tighter. “Don’t fucking—“ A soft smack landed upon your cheek. “Don’t fucking do what you did tonight ever again. Get on your knees.”
He slightly shoved you back as he loosened his grip on your hands and face; you submissively sank to the rough carpeted floor of the car and he wasted no time pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail and shoving his fat dick into your wet mouth.
He tasted so fucking good, the mix of his clean flesh and salty precum like honey dripping onto your tongue. Your eyes rolled back and you moaned along his shaft as you eagerly bobbed your already hazy head up and down.
Joel’s hips rolled up in pleasure, gurgling out helpless moans as your nose rubbed the wiry hairs along the base of his shaft. Despite the aching and soreness, you loved having your throat full of Joel.
You took initiative and pushed against his hand, nonverbally telling him to make you suffer, and he shamelessly did so.
He couldn’t tell if the slick that was coating his balls was your spit or tears and he didn’t give a fuck. If you were going to show some loser teenager your tits and some loser bachelors your ass the least you could give him was some fucking remorse, right?
Joel felt powerful, in charge in ways he never experienced before. Your flooded eyes looked into his and saw how contorted his face was, so even if he was the one telling you what to do you knew you had him wrapped around your finger.
“Give me that fuckin’ throat, baby,” he moaned. “Oh, fuck! That throat is so fucking tight—mnh. God…damn baby. Feels so fucking good.”
He smacked your wet cheeks as encouragement before slowly pulling you off of his dick; you coughed at the gust of oxygen that flooded your lungs, giggling as he smacked his fat tip against your puffy mouth.
“Look at you, baby,” he whispered. “So pretty when my cock shuts that smart fuckin’ mouth a’yours up.”
“You love my fucking mouth,” you smugly said as you climbed into his lap.
“I do, but I think you forget what it’s supposed to be used for,” he whispered.
“You can stuff my mouth all you want, I’m still gonna give you a reason to use it.”
An eyebrow of his cocked up and a grin spread across his face at your confidence.
“Take your pants off,” he instructed seductively. His rough hands ran up your arms and back while you did what he said. “There you go,” he moaned when you slid down on his wet cock. “You’re such a good fucking slut for me, honey.”
“Just—just ask me, and I’ll s-say yes!” You shakily moaned as you relentlessly bounced on his dick.
Joel gripped your neck and began fucking into you from below, pushing deeper than he needed to, definitely bruising your cervix.
“You know you belong to me. All that fucking shit about claiming you and how I don’t own you, fuck was that?”
“Joe—elll, ugh!” You screamed into his chest, not sure if you were cumming or if your cunt was just overwhelmed with sensitivity. “Just ask, just ask baby I promise I’ll be good I’ll never misbehave again.”
He popped your ass and chuckled cruelly when you flinched and moaned. “Be my girlfriend, babydoll. Hmm? I want you to be my girl. You’re already my slut. Will you be my girl, babydoll?”
Your eyes gawked up at him and you couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged against your lips.
“Yes! Yes, yes, baby! Oh fuck, oh fuck!”
“Say it,” he begged. “Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours Joel! Fuckfuckyes I’m yours! I belong to you! I fucking belong to you!”
Joel felt the familiar deep stretch in the peak of his belly at your cries. He listened to you submit to him, let him claim you as his, ultimately marking his territory as he began to cum inside of your warm cunt.
“Thaaaat’s my good girl,” Joel growled as he fucked the last of his spend into you.
“Fuck,” you exhaled, climbing off of him. “You’re such an ass.”
He chuckled at this, the softness in his laughter coaxing a giggle from you.
“You love me,” he mumbled.
“Mmm, not quite,” you said as confidently as your tired body would allow.
“Oh, honeypie… You’ll get there soon enough.”
#pedro pascal#joel miller#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fluff#joel miller tlou#beekeeper!joel#pedro
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Five for Five | Joel x Reader Oneshot
“I ain’t stupid.” His tone is heavy now, words grating out of his throat like rusty razor blades. “Last I checked, we had one hundred and two. There’s ninety-seven here. That’s five missing.”
Summary: It was probably a stupid idea to trade five ration cards for a tiny bottle of perfume, and it's not surprising that Joel is angry, but you think it might just be worth it.
Tags/warnings: fem reader, smut, dubcon, spanking, punishment, dom!Joel, sub!reader, first time, oral (m receiving), fingering, pet names, unprotected p in v, aftercare.
Word Count: 4k
A/N: Forgive me father for I have sinned. This is pure filth. Please mind the tags/warnings.
“Where are the rest?”
Joel’s voice cuts through you as soon as you step inside the apartment. It’s late, already dark out, and the dangerous edge to his words makes you jump as you step inside, shoulders aching, feet numb from the long walk back home through the QZ.
“Jesus fuck, Joel. What are you doing here?”
He doesn’t answer, just holds up his hand and shakes the stack of ration cards that are clutched in his fist. The only light is coming from the wonky reading lamp in the corner and it casts an amber glow over the apartment and Joel’s stern face.
“I said,” his voice is steady, clear, but you can already hear the frustration that’s buried underneath it, the anger that’s so quick to rise in him threatening to bubble over, “where are the rest?”
“They should all be there,” you reply, letting your eyes fall down to your boots, toeing them off so that you don’t have to look at his face.
“Well, they ain’t.” He takes a step toward you, his own boots heavy on the worn linoleum floor. “And I wanna know where they are.”
“Did you check under the floor?”
Of course he’s checked under the floor, and of course they aren’t there, because last night you took a handful – five, max – and traded them for a tiny bottle of perfume that’s now stuffed under your mattress. Joel rarely checks the ration cards – he lets you deal with that side of the dodgy business you’ve been running together for the last year and a half – so you’d thought you could get away with it. That he wouldn’t notice. But this is Joel, and he’s noticed.
“I ain’t stupid.” His tone is heavy now, words grating out of his throat like rusty razor blades. “Last I checked, we had one hundred and two. There’s ninety-seven here. That’s five missing.”
With this last he slams the pile down on the kitchen side next to you, stepping right up into your space so that you feel his breath – hot and tinged with the scent of cheap bourbon – on the side of your face. You’ve seen him angry so many times, but it’s never been directed at you before, and you’re starting to understand why most people avoid his gaze in corridors, why men cross the street when they see him coming.
“Did you miscount?” You ask, fighting to keep your voice level, light.
“Did I miscount?” He repeats, slow, each word enunciated like it’s a full sentence on its own, and you realise it was probably the worst thing you could have said.
His fingers are hot on your chin when he grabs it, tilting your reluctant face up, dragging your eyeline to meet his. His face is a sight to behold: eyebrows furrowed, deep groves carved out in the lines that surround them, his jaw tense, a muscle twitching as he grinds his teeth. There’s danger in his eyes; a fire behind them that burns as he stares down at you.
“No, I didn’t miscount.” He spits the last word out, eyes tracing the blush that’s crawling up your throat, the way your eyes dart away from his, the flicker of your pulse – fast, rising – in your throat. The trace of the misdirection, the lie, so obvious.
He can read you like a book, always could. But you’re stubborn. You’re not giving anything away if you don’t have to. Those cards are yours as much as they’re his, and this one thing you’ve allowed yourself in eighteen months is worth the way his fingertips are digging into the sides of your face.
“What did you trade ‘em for?” He asks.
“Fuck you.”
He laughs at this, lets your face go and takes a single step back, swings his arm to his side and lets it carry him into a half turn. You slump back against the door, peeling paint sticking uncomfortably to your back. But it’s a short-lived reprieve.
“Fuck me?” He repeats, turning back to you. “After all I’ve done for you, all the shit I’ve taken for you-”
“I didn’t ask you to!” Your voice is shrill compared to his gruff curses, but you continue, adrenaline spiking, “And you’ve been the cause of at least half of that shit, Joel. Don’t make out like you’re some knight in shining armour when we both know the truth!”
The truth: that he’s brutal, feared by almost everyone in the QZ; that people only trade with the two of you because of your hard work and negotiation skills. Joel’s good for enforcing things, for smuggling things in and out, and for sending a message when anything goes wrong, but he’s also a broken man whose anger has got him into more than a few scrapes that you’ve had to get him out of with nothing more than your sharp tongue and quick thinking.
He lets you rally this outburst at him, doesn’t blink in the face of it, until you’ve finished. Then he’s striding back to you, slamming the hand holding the cards hard against the door behind you. It makes you flinch away but his other hand’s back on your jaw, grip tighter this time, forcing you to look up at him.
“Where are the rest?” He repeats, brandishing the ration cards so that they’re inches from your face.
“They’re mine as much as they’re yours.” You say, quietly defiant despite the way your voice shakes.
“You trade them?”
“What does it matter?”
“Nuh-uh,” He twists his hand, turns your face away so that you’re forced to look to the side instead of into his face and he can say the next words into your ear. “This ain’t how this works. I ask the questions, you answer ‘em. Did. You. Trade. Them?”
His face is so close to yours now that you can feel spit landing on your cheek as he speaks, his breath hot in your ear. It shouldn’t turn you on, but it does. You can feel yourself getting wet, slick pooling unbidden between your thighs. It’s hard to ignore a man like Joel, but it’s even harder to get close to him. You don’t think he’s ever been so near to you before, not even when you’ve tended each other’s wounds after a run went south.
You’ve always wanted him to; held a secret flame that’s grown brighter and hotter over the last few months. There’s something undeniably attractive about Joel. The way he moves, the quiet confidence he exudes and the brutal, coiled power of him. You’ve watched him set his fist into another man’s jaw and wondered what it would be like to be on the receiving end of his temper, his passion.
Now, with his face so close to yours, his thick fingers digging into your jaw, you feel yourself sinking into it, relaxing despite the tension of the situation. You want this, you want his anger and razor-sharp focus. It’s overwhelming in the best way, and you feel tears burning at your lower lashline.
“Yes. I traded them.”
A tear slides down you face and Joel’s eyes trace its path as it glides over your check, pooling in the corner of your mouth, salty and unrepentant.
“What for?”
“Perfume.”
He laughs again, but this laugh is full of derision, not mirth. It’s a punch of a laugh, straight from his chest, catching in his throat and distorting into a growl that sends a shiver up your spine and a bolt of lightning through your cunt.
“Perfume.” He repeats, turning your face in his hand so that you’re looking at him again.
His pupils are blown wide, his face a mask of fury and something else that has you pressing your thighs together, seeking friction. He notices you doing it, lets his eyes follow the movement of your hips, the desperate, needy breaths you’re sucking in. He grins, teeth bared.
“And what, exactly, do you need perfume for?” He asks, not giving you time to answer before he’s bending down and pressing his nose into the side of your neck, inhaling deeply, stubble scratching your throat. “Smell sweet enough to me already.”
“Joel, please,” you say, but you’re not sure what you’re asking for, because he’s licking a thick stripe up the side of your throat and you think if he stops you might scream.
“Buy it for those boys I see sniffing around you sometimes? Huh?” He asks, drawing back from you and shaking your face in his hand roughly. “Knew you were nothing but a fucking slut.”
“I just- I wanted something nice.” You try to explain, the words catching in your throat as he slides one thick thigh between yours.
“Something nice? What makes you think you deserve something nice, hmm? Ain’t nothing nice in this place, you should know that as well as I do.”
And you do, God knows you do. The QZ is dark and twisted and fucking soul-crushing, but you’d wanted the perfume, wanted it with a deep yearning that matches the way you want Joel to keep going now, to push you and punish you and take what he wants.
“I think you need to learn a lesson, baby.”
You’re nodding into his hand, tears rolling down your face, splashing onto his thick fingers. He lets go of your jaw, takes you by the wrist and pulls you into the room, toward the sofa, over his knee when he sits. Your stomach is pressed into his thighs, face buried in the dirty sofa cushion and he’s got one hand pressing into your spine, the other searching out the button of your jeans. He undoes it, wastes no time in dragging the worn denim down your shaking thighs.
“You’re gonna lie there and take it, you hear me?” He says, splaying a hand over your bare ass cheek, moving the line of your knickers out of the way so that he can squeeze the meat of you, fingers dipping between your thighs, finding the slick liquid that’s leaking from you.
“Jesus Christ, you’re soaked already. Fuckin’ filthy little thing, aren’t you?” His accent is somehow thickening, vowels lengthening, the twang of his consonants increasing.
“I asked you a question.” He says when you don’t immediately reply, and you nod your head, wipe your wet eyes against the sofa.
“Count for me.” He says, and before you can take a breath to prepare, his hand is coming down sharply on you.
The sting is sharp; delicious.
“Count.” He hisses, and you whisper a faint one, breaking off into a moan when he lets his fingers graze the side of your puffy lips.
You wish you could see his expression, see if this is affecting him as much as its affecting you, if he’s watching with something like ecstasy on his handsome, haunting features.
The second smack is harder than the first, sharper and sweeter for it. It makes you jerk against him but he’s holding you down firmly with one solid hand in the middle of your back, pressing you into his thighs, into his lap. The denim of his jeans is rough against your bare stomach, scratching you skin where your shirt’s risen up. The third slap makes you yelp, harder again, but he soothes it immediately with his palm, rubs the flesh of your ass.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Enjoying being bent over my lap and spanked like the dirty whore y’are, huh?”
You can’t believe the filth that’s dripping from his lips. Sure, he curses plenty, and you’ve heard him cuss out entire rooms full of angry men, but this is something else entirely. This is animalistic and derogatory and indecent. And God help you, its sending rushes of hot liquid practically gushing down your thighs.
“Be so easy to slide myself inside you, you’re so goddamn wet.” He says as he sends another harsh slap onto your ass. “Open you up and press myself inside this soaking cunt, hmm? Bet you’d let me, too, let me do fucking anything to you.”
“Yes, Joel, please, anything.”
His third laugh of the afternoon is throaty and coarse, full of self-indulgence. It makes the hairs stand up on the back of your neck, makes you clench your thighs together and grind your teeth to stop you from crying out again.
“You gonna come like this, baby?” He asks, sliding his hand over the meat of your ass, down between your thighs to press at your entrance, slipping beneath your ruined underwear. “Come on my lap like the dirty fucking slut I know you are?”
The sweet sting as he pushes two thick fingers inside you almost pushes you over the edge there and then, but you bite into your lip – probably drawing blood, but you’re too distracted to notice. He curls his fingers, drags the pads of them over the soft flesh inside you, seeking out that spot that makes you almost black out, pleasure ratcheting up so suddenly that you gasp, coming hard in his lap, muscles shaking and contracting, cunt squeezing his fingers tight.
“There she is,” He hisses, curling them again, chasing you as you shift against him, overstimulated.
How is he so good at this? You’ve never seen him with anyone – he’s always given the impression that he has no interest in sex, in relationships, friendships, even. But the expert way that he’s playing your body like an instrument, chasing your moans and gasps like they’re the air he needs to stay alive, tells a completely different story. And when you jerk in his grip and he presses you harder against him, shifting on the sofa, there’s suddenly a very clear indication of just how much of an affect this is having on him, too.
“Shit,” His voice is ragged now: This outburst isn’t controlled in the way that the rest of the curses he’s been spewing into your ears have been. It’s unexpected and bitten back behind a grunt as your hip comes into contact with his cock – a solid, hot weight that fills the front of his jeans, pressing the button of his flies into you, his pocket a line of stitches on your stomach.
The next smack is all the harder for the tiny huff of a giggle you let out, which turns quickly into a hiss of pain when his palm comes down hard against you.
“Concentrate,” He warns when you don’t immediately count the spank aloud. “’m teaching you a fuckin’ lesson, here, remember?”
“Four.” You say, pressing your face harder into the cushion, rolling your hips just slightly so that his cock twitches against your stomach.
“Five for five.” He says, soothing your heated flesh with the palm of his hand before bringing it down one final time. “Five. Think you’ve learnt your lesson?”
You twist round in his lap, eyes dancing when you see the flush that’s tinted his cheeks, the way his gaze is lingering on the swell of your ass cheek in his hand, perspiration beading on his heavy brow.
“I don’t know, Joel, do you?” You say, voice teasing, and he snaps his eyes up to your face as he hisses through clenched teeth.
“Fuckin’ mouth on you, you insolent little slut,” he curses, fisting the collar of your shirt and pulling you upright, opening his legs so that you slide between them onto the cold lino floor.
“Think we can find a better use for it, hmm?” He leans back against the couch, pops the first button on his jeans. Your eyes follow the movement hungrily, unable to look away as he slide the zip down painfully slowly, tooth by tooth, the clicks loud in the silent apartment.
He doesn’t take the jeans off, just pushes them far enough down his thighs that he can fist his cock where it sits, heavy and thick, in his underwear. There’s a dark stain at the tip that makes your mouth water, and when he drags his briefs down, too, you lick your lips greedily.
He’s painfully hard – head flushed a deep red, veins standing out boldly against his thick shaft. There’s a thatch of dark hair at the base, and his balls are heavy and full when he tucks the waistband of his briefs underneath them.
He strokes himself lazily a few times and you let yourself look up to his face. His eyes are dark, pupils eating into the deep brown irises, brows furrowed slightly. The amber light of the lamp is casting his face partly in shadow and it only accentuates the strong, curved line of his nose, the deep creases that lines his eyes and forehead. He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that exists, his gaze so sharp and focused it makes you dizzy.
“C’mon then,” he says, running a hot hand up your jaw to grip the back of your neck, pulling you in towards him. “I got no doubt you know exactly what you’re doing here.”
The scent of him is musky and something distinctly masculine, and you bury your nose in the thick hair at the base of him, place a heated kiss to the side of one thigh. This alone make him moan, a deep, throaty sound that lights you up from the inside.
You press your lips to the tip of him, flick your tongue out to kitten lick at the slit.
“Fuck,” he curses.
He’s sensitive. When you wrap a hand around the base of his cock and place your lips around him he hisses, fingers tightening their grip in your hair, free hand fisting the loose cover of the worn couch. You take him further in, suck your cheeks in to caress him, work your tongue over the delicate ridge at the head of his cock. He tastes like salt and sweat and something distinctly Joel, masculine and heady. When he hits the back of your throat you try not to gag, try to swallow him down, throat contracting around him so that he groans and curses.
“Jesus Christ, baby. Your mouth is fuckin’ filthy.”
You grin around his cock, work your hand over the part of him that won’t fit, then pull back and lick one long strip up his shaft, letting your tongue follow one of the thick veins. He presses himself back into your mouth, tightens his grip on the back of your neck and raises his hips off the sofa.
“You want me to fuck that pretty little mouth, baby?” He asks, and you nod, feel hot tears prickling in your eyes when he starts moving, dragging his hips back and then forward, forcing his cock into your mouth, down your throat so that you feel like you’re choking, like all that exists is Joel and his hard cock, his breathy moans and filthy mouth.
“Got such a clever fuckin’ mouth, baby. Just needed to find a way to put it to good use- shit, yeah, that’s it.” He pushes you down once more, groans as he bottoms out on your throat, then releases the back of your neck so that you can pull back.
You’re a mess, tears rolling down your face, saliva pooling in your mouth and joining your lips with Joel’s cock in long strings. Joel’s looking down at you with fire in his eyes, his dark gaze flicking from your mouth to your eyes to the open buttons of your shirt and the swell of your ass.
“Get up,” He says, wrapping his hand around your upper arm and pulling you to your feet.
Before you’ve time to get your balance he’s bending you over, forcing you onto your hands and knees on the sofa. He lines himself up behind you, drags the blunt head of his cock through your soaking folds and presses himself inside your cunt.
The stretch is intense. You squeeze your eyes shut, press yourself back against him as he inches inside. He pauses for a split second when he’s sheathed himself fully inside, then pulls out and begins a punishing pace, fucking you into the sofa, his hands gripping your hips so hard you’re sure he’ll leave marks in the shape of his fingertips.
“Pussy’s gripping me so fuckin’ tight, darlin’” He says, and something in your chest swells at the sound of ‘darlin’’ rolling off his tongue like that, full of something that’s dangerously close to fondness.
He’s a cacophony of contradictions, greedy hands gripping your hips possessively, then smoothing up your back under your shirt before sliding back down to slap the soft flesh of your ass. His thrusts are hard and intense, cock hitting that spot inside you that makes electricity jolt in your stomach with each movement, but then he bends over you, slows his hips so that he can kiss the skin of your throat. His voice – deep, husky, reverberating in his chest – keeps up a filthy chorus that has you whimpering into the couch, but he’s praising you, offering you gentle encouragement, his words warm and dirty and entirely overwhelming.
Being so good for me, baby, pussy’s so fuckin’ wet and tight around me. Can feel you getting close, you gonna come like this, huh? With my cock buried deep inside this pretty little cunt?
Without waiting for an answer he wraps an arm around you and finds your clit with two of his thick fingers. He starts rubbing confident circles over it, bringing you closer and closer to your inevitable climax. You grip his arm with your fist; fingernails digging into hard muscle.
Then suddenly you’re coming apart, white noise blocking out the sound of his hips slapping into yours and his voice and the low level hubbub of the other apartments, until there’s nothing left but your pleasure and his cock and his clever fingers, his nose pressed into your throat, teeth nipping the tendons there.
The world fades back into existence as you come down, muscles jolting. You feel yourself clenching around him with the aftershocks. Joel gasps into your neck, squeezes your tits over your shirt.
“Fuck, just like that, gonna come in this sweet cunt. Shit, that’s it.” His thrusts falter, hips slamming into yours.
You feel him twitch inside you as he comes, ropes of hot cum painting the inside of you, his stuttering breath at your ear.
You stay as you are for a moment, both gasping for breath, hearts hammering in your chests. His embrace is suddenly tender, muscles shifting as he relaxes against you. You don’t say anything, but he presses a kiss to the side of your neck, and that simple gesture opens a floodgate in your chest.
He pulls out of you but keeps his arm around you, guides you both down to lie on the couch, your back pressed to his front. The light in the apartment feels different than it did earlier, the orange hue warmer, kinder than it was.
Joel peppers kisses along the back of your neck and over each shoulder, his strong arm keeping you firmly against him. He wraps a thick thigh over both of yours and tightens it, anchoring you in place. You sigh in contentment, head quieter than it’s been for months, years, possibly.
“I didn’t hurt you?” He says into your hair, voice low.
“No, Joel.”
“You sure? I’m sorry if I was too rough. I don’t- I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I liked it, Joel.”
He chuckles darkly, hooks his chin over your shoulder and teases the skin under your ear with his teeth.
“Fuckin’ filthy, aren’t you? Always knew you were.” He presses his nose to your neck, inhales deeply. “Perfume’s nice, by the way.”
#joel miller#joel miller fic#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfic#the last of us fic#joel x you#joel x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller x female reader#joel miller fanfiction
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I can imagine preggo wife literally talking and talking and talking in the middle of a movie and gets offended and leaves when Joel tells her to quiet down
Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife : Yapper
notes: Oh I had fun writing this! no warnings (maybe some Fugitive and Raiders spoilers), Enjoy!
- - - -
Joel’s pretty excited for movie night. It’s one of the few films the two of you don’t argue over and can pretty much watch the entire way through without disruption.
Or at least, it used to be.
Joel settles against the couch armrest with his feet propped up, knees bent slightly so you have room to sit in front. He’s got any snack you could think of within an arm reach away, and he’s got the title on pause so you can scooch your fat booty and big belly comfortably. Usually takes about 15 minutes of squirming, smacking his chest to “fluff” it up, adding a pillow at his crotch, then taking it away because you like his hard cock there instead, elbow in his groin and then his knee, then you gotta get up to pee before starting the whole process over.
“OK Im ready!” You say after 15 minutes on the dot, snuggling close to him with the back of your head rested against the crook of his neck.
He finally hits play, and the Lucasfilm logo flashes across the screen. The tropical forest and ominous music plays as the familiar font of Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark fade on to the screen.
“Joel. Joel. Hey Joel.”
“Y-yes?”
“Did you know Indiana was named after George Lucas dog? Who also was the physical inspiration for chewy?” You ask rhetorically.
It takes him a second to understand you’re asking him a question. “What?”
“Chewbacca! From Star Wars!”
“Oh ok neat,” he says with some enthusiasm, but quick to end it and get back to watching the movie—
“Yeah also Sean Connery is also apparently—well guess how much older he is to Harrison Ford.”
“Um—I don’t—I don’t know.” Joel says slowly, watching as Indy carefully removes the sand from the pouch and weighs it to the gold idol.
���C’mon, guess!”
“I really don’t know, can we—“
“12 years older than Harrison in Last Crusade! My mom was like ‘WHAT no way’ and I was like ‘Yes way’ and she was like ‘He's his father and he's got all that white in his hair and receding hairline’ and I was like ‘Joel's only in his late 30s and he's got white in his beard.’”
Joel can’t hear a damn thing happening on screen except the shouts about hating a pet snake named Reggie. “Wha—“
“Not that you look anything like Sean Connery in Last Crusade. Maybe in like Bond —oof he was the hottest Bond. Plus you got like a receding beard-line with all the patches, I don’t know, but my mom was like ‘Ya know Joel's got more white hair lately since you've been pregnant’ and I was like ‘Nah uh’ and she was like ‘Ya huh’ and I was like ‘Huh I wonder why that is…?’ Anyway but nope only 12 years between him and Ford—“
Joel turns to look at you with a frown, a bit confused and amazed at how you have so much to say, right now, oblivious as ever.
It doesn’t phase your rambling one bit: “—Like damn, but you know Harrison Ford has always been handsome. But like in the bad boy kind of way, not like handsome upstanding like Christopher Reeves? When I saw The Fugitive, I was like ‘oooohhhh I'll be his wife now’ hahaha! no no I’m sorry, he’s famous and I’m not so that’s why I married you, but that's such a fall film don't you think? Minus the murder and betrayal and fucking Dr Charles Nickles like was he British or not? He was in and out of an accent the whole time? Didn't make sense to me but yeah, it's just such a fall Cozy film.”
Joel looks back at the screen and realizes Marion is already being cornered by the Nazi creep: “Ah huh—honey—“
“OH! I Love her song! It’s kind of like Leia and Han’s from Empire except the last notes are different, like it goes do doooooo instead of da dat dada daaaaaaa, That’s just John William’s for ya, but you’d never notice they were so similar!”
Joel opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out as you continue:
“—Also I know you said my mom made good apple pie but I really wanna try to make it because I want you to like mine more, so I need you to get some apples and pie crust and butter and stuff from the store, I’ll make a list so you can get it. They said we need ground cinnamon but I think ours expired like 5 years ago so don’t forget that. And then I'm gonna tell you how to slice the apples since I can't handle sharp objects and then oh I need you to get the mixer from the top shelf and then you have to mix it all together and slice the top with like little heart patterns and then put it in the oven n stuff ‘cause it's hot and I don't wanna burn OH and that reminds me—!”
“BABE!”
“Hmm? yes?” You ask with a innocent smile.
“Let's try to be quiet and watch the movie ok?”
He offers a gentle smile and nods, pointing towards the TV again and settling to watch it with his beautiful wife.
His very very very unhappy wife. Your eyes haven’t left his, face now downturned in such a scowl, he should be shitting his pants.
You roll your jaw at him once, teeth grinding against one another with slitted, murderous eyes. Joel gulps, too afraid to glance back at you again. His eyes are wide staring at the commotion on the television but, now in your deadly silence, he can’t seen to focus on it at all.
Instead of saying anything, you roll polly up to your feet, arms crossed over your chest defensively as you utter a loud “Hmph!” before storming away from the living room.
He’ll have to deal with groveling tomorrow morning when you might be a little more welcoming. But on the bright side, he’s got way more room to spread out on the couch and he can hear the movie much better now!
.........
He switches it off and runs upstairs to get on his knees by your side of the bed, begging for your forgiveness and promises of a Clyde's milkshake to go.
- - - -
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But Daddy I Love Him
summary: You and Joel shouldn't be together. According to the people in Jackson, he's a bad, cruel, crazy man, and yet... he's all you ever wanted.
Warnings: smut (unprotected p in v), angst, blood, physical fight (?), happy ending (cause of course)
a/n: ive been obsessed with this song since it came out, please just go listen to it
Now I'm runnin' with my dress unbuttoned
Screamin', "But, Daddy, I love him
I'm havin' his baby"
No, I'm not, but you should see your faces
I'm tellin' him to floor it through the fences
No, I'm not coming to my senses
I know he's crazy, but he's the one I want
— — —
"fuck"
"god"
His breath, his hands, his beard, his mouth, his cock
Him
He was all you could feel, he was all that existed,
nothing but him and his intoxicating aura, his manly mist, his sweaty body his strong arms,
Him
Joel Miller
The man you should not want, the man you should be terrified of, that you should run and hide from,
the terrible, crazy, Joel Miller
The same one everyone told you to stay away from, your friends, your family, strangers, the entirety of Jackson
And yet he was the only man you ever really wanted, really needed.
"I missed you so much"
Even your own voice was nothing, it was a phantom of something that existed long ago, something that stopped living every time he was near, every time he would make everything dissipate into thin air with just his presence.
"I missed you too baby girl" he grunted,
oh how he grunts, how he groans, how he moans
nobody does it like him
"missed you so fucking much darlin'"
His voice felt like a prayer, like a sweet invocation to the sky up above, to whomever would listen,
one that countered completely what he was doing, the nothing but sinful way he had you up against the wall, his hands gripping your waist as he thrust his cock in and out of you so fast you might just break.
The bed was right beside you, but that didn't matter, that's how you were
You and Joel,
like animals, like soulmates, like desperate, desperate lovers
Your minds didn't work the same when you were near, they didn't work at all, one could argue
But isn't that was love is after all?
"oh my god" you moaned, hiding your head in the crook of his neck as one particular deep thrust made you see stars
"I know darlin'" he cooed, only going faster, deeper "I know"
"Joel" you cried, biting down on his skin "f-fuck"
It had only been two weeks since you last saw each other, but it might as well been decades.
They had sent him away.
Nobody liked him in Jackson, not once they'd learned his story, the terrible things he'd done
And when they found out about you... not even his own brother could protect him.
So they'd exiled him.
But they couldn't keep him away forever, not when he had something to come back for.
"god fuckin' damnit babygirl- you feel so fuckin' good"
Your moans only got higher, your nails clinging to his back like a rabid cat.
"perfect lil' pussy" he growled, his hot breath on your sweaty neck pulling shivers from your body "Perfect fuckin' girl"
"oh fuck" you whined, tightening your legs' hold onto his waist
"you feel so good too Joel" you promised, breathing heavily in synch with him "You and your perfect cock"
He groaned so loud he sounded like an animal
"might want to keep that pretty mouth shut if you want this to last, sugar"
You didn't know where you found the strength to laugh, but you did
"you're gonna come too soon, old man?"
His hold on your waist pulled you even closer, as you raised your head to look him in the eyes
God, he was handsome
"just might, if you keep saying stuff like that"
but before you could tell him how it wasn't fair, how he did it all the time and you couldn't do it even once, his thumb was on your clit and your eyes were to the back of your head.
"no" he stopped you before you could hide your face from him again "I want to see you"
And as warmth filled your chest and your forehead fell to his and pressure built in your belly, he murmured:
"good girl- come for me, just like that- Jesus Christ-"
And so you did,
You came and moaned and cried, and it didn't take much before he was doing the same, pumping you full of him until he'd given you every single drop.
And then you kissed, he kissed you slowly and gently and in the same exact way that made you fall for him the very first time.
"god I missed you so much" he breathed once you leaned away
A smile from ear to ear took over your face and all you could do was kiss him again
"me too baby" you murmured, as he helped you to your feet
You both smiled like silly idiots as you dressed again,
but neither of you could resist being in each other's arms, so you didn't.
He pulled you closer and wrapped his arms around you, kissing the crown of your head once you rested it on his still bare chest.
You didn't get how anyone could hate him,
You swore they wouldn't, they wouldn't if they only got to meet him, the real him, not the idea of him they had painted in their minds.
And so you hummed, breathing him in, clinging to him as he clung to you
Up until the very moment it all went to shit
Again.
"hey honey I just got back I-"
It was sad really, the fact you'd seen this scene before.
The disappointment in your dad's eyes, the fear turning into primal rage inside his iris, his fists tightening, Joel taking a step back
A deja-vu had never felt quite so devastating
"Arthur" Joel tried to speak, but your dad was already on him, his fist had already connected with his cheek
"What did I tell you!?" another punch "Last time was just a fucking warning!" and another
Joel was on the ground
He wasn't going to fight back.
This wasn't how he wanted to handle things
Not this time
Not with you
"I'll kill you this time you fucking disgusting pervert!" you swore you heard Joel's cheekbone crack with another hit "How dare you!?" your dad growled, Joel's bloody face beneath him "In my own home- how dare you take advantage of my daughter you fucking- pig!"
Your eyes were overflowing with tears, the top buttons of your dress were still unbuttoned, and Joel's chest was rising and falling too slowly, much too slowly
"dad"
But he kept going
"dad stop!"
you grabbed his wrist, and the moment his eyes met yours it felt like the word stopped, like it had frozen over.
You caused all that anger, all that pain
But if he just would listen to you...
"y/n"
"dad" your voice trembled as much as your fingers "dad I love him"
You saw his heart break. For all the wrong reasons,
for his poor daughter who was taken advantage of, for the naive, innocent daughter he couldn't protect. For the daughter that didn't exist. Because that wasn't you, that wasn't how things had gone.
"you don't know what you're saying"
His voice was harsh, cruel, cold.
"But I do!" tears ran down your cheeks as you glanced down to where Joel lay, to the cuts and blood coating his face "I love him dad, I really really do"
"You don't know who this man is" he said "The things he's done..." he said with a snarl, as if disgusted, as if the rage was surging from his chest all over again
"I know" you whispered "I know everything- He told me all of it dad, please" you begged "Please just let him go, let him talk"
"I don't need to listen to a word that comes out of this fucker's mouth"
"but dad-"
It was like a bomb went off
"HE'S 56!" he yelled, his grip on Joel's neck tightening "he's fifty fucking six y/n! You just fucking turned 21!" his voice bounced off the walls like thunder, "You're not even half his age!"
"who cares!?" you screamed too now, only your voice was interrupted by sobs
"I DO!" he roared "Your mom would!" his eyes were wide with urgency, and although he was mad you could still hear the care behind his words "He might have made you think this is ok, that he loves you, but trust me none of it is true" he sighed "He's using you honey, I know it's hard to understand right now, but you- you're young- you don't know-"
Your hand left him, shaking as it went to wipe your tears.
"dad" you said more firmly now "I might be young but I'm not stupid"
"y/n-"
"no" you stopped him "Dad this is the first time I've ever felt this way, like I cannot breathe when he's not close, like I need him more than I need air" you swallowed thickly "And I know- I know it's hard to understand, I know it's easier to just go with the narrative in your head, of the fragile little girl and the big creepy guy, but this-" you took a shaky breath as you glanced at Joel again
His eyes were barely open, he was barely conscious
"This isn't like that" you promised "I- I love him, and he loves me"
"Honey-"
"I'm not done" you stopped him again "I'll never forgive you dad" you shook your head, simply stating the truth "I'll never forgive you if you do this, if you don't even give him a chance to explain, to tell you how things really are"
You saw the conflict in his eyes, the searing pain caused him to hear such words from his daughter, to hear her beg and threaten and speak up all at once,
and yet... yet he couldn't shake off the honesty, the hope lacing your words, your voice, sparkling from your eyes
And so he did the only thing he could,
he agreed, he agreed to hear the full story.
___
That was two years ago now,
and sometimes you wondered if it all was just a bad dream, if your imagination had tricked you into believing some silly made-up story,
but the glares from the people in town always seemed to refresh your memory.
And yes, maybe you would have liked to live a life without people whispering ugly things about you behind your back every day... but then maybe, maybe it was all worth it
For this.
For the child growing in your belly, for the veil on top of your head, for the sound of your dad stifling his sobs beside you,
for the image of Joel waiting for you at the end of the aisle, for the tears in his eyes, for the smile on his face,
for him,
for you,
It was all worth it,
Yes, yes it definitely was.
— — —
Now I'm dancin' in my dress in the sun and
Even my daddy just loves him
I'm his lady
And, oh, my God, you should see your faces
Time, doesn't it give some perspective?
And, no, you can't come to the wedding
I know it's crazy, but he's the one I want
#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller fluff#joel miller x reader#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x you#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller fanfic#joel miller fic#tlou#tlou hbo#the last of us#joel miller x fem reader#but daddy i love him#taylor swift
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Camp Crystal Lake: Chapter 7
Requested by @yellowjacketsbuzzbuzz
Joel Miller x f!reader (romance/horror)
Setting: Camp Crystal Lake
The reader is taking on the position of a camp counselor at the infamous Camp Crystal Lake. While she begins to enjoy her summer, even crushing on the camp director Joel, a killer lurks in the woods unbeknownst to anyone.
The night was low key. I could tell everyone was at least a little tired from working, and playing, in the hot sun all day. Mark sat on the porch with a book in his lap, and as I entered the cabin from exploring the grounds a little I saw Vicki wander over to sit beside him.
When I entered the cabin, Jeff and Sandra sat in the living room toying with an old record player. Scott laid the length of the couch with his hands behind his head and his eyes closed. I saw he had an ear pod in and was gently bobbing his head to whatever music was playing.
Joel looked over his shoulder from where he was retrieving hot dogs and hamburgers from the fridge and smirked subtly at me as I entered. I smiled back and toyed with a few stray strands of hair by my forehead.
“(Y/N),” Sandra called, waving me over.
I wandered over toward where she held a few albums in her arm like a pair of books. “Hey, did you guys get in trouble?” I asked quietly.
She shook her head. “Nah. Joel just told us not to go back over there.”
“Did you see anything creepy?”
“We didn't get that far,” Jeff claimed. “The cop picked us up before we could go inside any of the old cabins.”
“Anyone want burgers or dogs?” Joel asked aloud. He held a package of hotdogs in the air as we all glanced over.
Jeff held a hand up and then Sandra did the same. I gave a nod and Scott sat up from where he laid.
“Food?” He asked, removing his ear pods.
Joel snickered and confirmed with a nod. “Food.”
Annie appeared at the top of the open staircase toying with her damp, towel-dried hair. “Shower’s free if anyone needs to get in.” Her croc-clad feet peppered down the stairs. “I'll be back in a little bit.”
“You want anything to eat?” Joel asked her.
“I made myself a big salad about an hour ago,” she claimed. “And I'll probably have a s'more or two when I get back.”
“Beware of Ralph,” Joel said to her, half-kidding.
“Ha ha.” Annie threw her hair up into a high bun. “If I see him, I'll give him an ice cream sandwich. I'm going to check out the ice cream inventory.”
“Take a break,” Joel encouraged. “Do it in the morning.”
She waved a hand at him. “I'll be twenty minutes.”
“Mark,” Jeff shouted through the screen of the porch window. “You guys want hot dogs and burgers?”
“One of each for me,” he called back.
“I'll take a cheeseburger if you're offering,” Vicki said next.
“You hear that boss?” Jeff asked Joel.
“Loud and clear.”
“Where's Teri?” I looked around the open floor plan.
“Upstairs,” Sandra claimed.
“Anyone want to give me a hand bringing some of this stuff out to the grill?” Joel asked.
Jeff began to raise his hand but Sandra nudged his stomach with her elbow.
“Ow,” he said quietly, glancing at her.
“Go,” Sandra whispered to me, as Joel nonchalantly retrieved cheese, lettuce and tomato from the fridge.
I chuckled and cleared my throat. “I'll help,” I volunteered.
“Great, thanks,” Joel said back.
I gazed at Sandra and we shared a smirk. I pulled her in to whisper discreetly. “We need to talk later.”
“What happened?” She whispered back.
“I'll tell you later.”
Joel and I made eye contact across the room and I wandered over to grab two oversized dishes he’d laid out. When he placed a knife on top of them I glanced up at him.
“Might need you to slice a tomato or two while I heat up the grill,” he explained.
“No problem.” I retrieved the lettuce and tomato, scooped up the plates and followed him out the back door onto a little deck. The light by the back door illuminated the grilling area as the atmosphere darkened under the cover of the trees.
I placed the plates down on a small table beside the grill and retrieved a tomato as Joel squatted to turn the gas tank on. My back was to him as I began to slice the red sphere. My body stiffened and I felt a rush of adrenaline power through me when Joel’s hand topped mine on the knife. His body brushed up against mine and I let out a breath without looking back.
Joel’s hand pressed down and I went with the motion, cutting the tomato once, twice, three times.
“You’re very good at that,” he practically purred in my ear. Feeling his breath land against my neck as he spoke made me weak in the knees, and my toes curled beneath my white Nikes.
I swallowed hard, taking completely off guard but also totally on board with Joel’s advances. “Thank you,” I choked out.
“I knew how you felt about me the second I met you,” he spoke quietly. His fingers tucked a few stray strands of hair behind my ear.
There was no use in denying it. “How?” I whispered back.
“A man can tell.”
A man. He certainly was a man. The tumultuous emotions that brewed inside of me were unlike anything I’d ever felt before when it came to sex, romance and dating. My whole body was hot and if there would have been no repercussions I would have uncharacteristically turned and jumped his bones right there.
The knife left my hand and he turned my body to face his. Joel dove in for a kiss, an extension of what was interrupted in the shed by the sheriff earlier in the day. I had been thinking about it ever since.
Can anyone see us? The concern was a fleeting one and I continued to indulge in him until Joel was the one to pull back with a breath. When he proceeded to peck my lips just after I wasn’t ready for it and simply closed my eyes without reciprocating. His hand landed on the side of my face and my eyes flickered open again. Joel let out a breath through his nose.
“Are you involved with anyone?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No. Are.. you?”
Joel mirrored my response. “No.”
“Good.” I laughed lightly as I said that.
“You, uh.. You want to agree to a summer romance?”
I laughed a little louder and Joel laughed with me. “What are the terms of that?”
“Why don’t we make them right now?”
“Okay.” I felt my body heat up even more and I couldn’t keep a wide grin from my face.
“Don’t pursue anyone else at the camp.” The statement came out sort of as a question, “And I won’t either.”
I nodded. That was more than reasonable. “I’ll agree to that.”
“Unless you’re not into this once we try-”
“I’m into it,” I said right away, making him chuckle. I added, “A man really can tell, I guess because I’m.. very into this.”
“Good.” Joel smirked, “Because I am, too.” He pulled me back to him and our lips met again. I could feel him smiling into the kiss the same way I was.
“Do we have to keep this, like, a secret?” I asked.
“Doesn’t Sandra already know?”
My eyes widened and I swallowed hard. “Well.. not.. Exactly.”
“She’s smart,” Joel said with a smirk, “She knows.”
“Well, she’s suspected.. I didn’t say anything.”
“We’re all adults here,” he reminded me, “I’m just the organizer of this place. You all seem like good workers so there’s no favoritism.” Joel toyed with my hair again, “As long as you’re not embarrassed about it, it doesn’t bother me.”
“Why would I be embarrassed?”
“Because of our age difference.”
I laughed lightly, “No guys in their twenties made me feel what you’ve made me feel in the short time I’ve known you.”
Joel looked pleased by my words and smiled smally, mostly to himself. It almost looked like he was giving himself props in his mind. It made me chuckle again.
“So.” He held a hand out in front of him, “Do we agree to the terms?”
I glanced down and shook his hand. “I agree.”
“And you’re a townie, like me,” Joel added. “So, if things go really well, maybe we can even go apple picking in the fall.”
My heart grew a size. “I’ll be around.”
“Good.” He leaned in and kissed me lips again as he reached for a spatula.
“Good.”
@gissellec1 @cattt777 @mellymbee @armybts20137@bbiophiliaa @littleblackcatinwonderland @mermaidgirl30 @brittmb115 @yellowjacketsbuzzbuzz @beltzboys2015-blog blog @lwfics @pedropascal111 @mellymbee @itscatrodriguez-thepearl
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✨Captured in the Woods Masterlist✨
A/N: Here is a little horror AU I put together based on inspiration from Texas Chainsaw Massacre, The Hills Have Eyes, The Strangers, and Resident Evil Biohazard. I’ve wanted to do a horror fic for a while, so here we go! Please let me know if you want to be tagged 🩵
Summary: Joel books a nice secluded Airbnb cabin out in the middle of Southwest Texas to get a little alone time with you for a weekend. Little do you know, you’re not alone. You’re being stalked by a deranged family, and you’re going to have to fight your way to make it out alive.
Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)
Tags: Horror au, no outbreak au, protective Joel, smut, family of cannibals, use of weapons, kidnapping, blood, gore, deaths (no major character deaths), hiding, sneaking around, jump scares
Part 1: Knock at the Cabin Door (Coming this week!)
Part 2
#joel miller#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfiction#horror au#joel x female reader#joel miller pedro pascal#joel miller smut#tlou fanfiction#joel the last of us#no outbreak!joel miller#no outbreak au#joel miller fan fiction#protective joel#horror fiction
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cowboy joel? cowboy joel
inspired by taylor swift’s “but daddy i love him” for @beskarandblasters ttpd drabble challenge (it’s uh…shaping up to be a bit more than a drabble but i digress)
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Blessed be the Fruit: Finale, part 1
Commander!Joel Miller x Handmaid!Reader
Series masterlist Join dark!Romana's tag list Dark!Romana's Masterlist
Summary: Joel takes you somewhere different, meeting Tommy there
Content and Warnings: DARK JOEL! DUB CON! (stressing the dub con again this chapter)
Although no violent rape happens like in TWW, reader is under systemic misogyny and a society of ritualized sex abuse. Everything other than the violent rape scenes, everything that happen in either The Handmaids Tale book or show are liable to happen here including but not limited to discussion of rape, child abuse, child marriage, ritualized sexual abuse, sexual abuse in general, acts of violence, major character deaths, mentions of miscarriage but never shown and never pregnancies we know of. Big ole homophobia warning, specifically in regards to lesbophobia. As for Joel, PIV sex, breeding kink, degrading (slut, whore etc but thing like Raider!joel) forced breeding and breeding kink, power dynamics, Joel is not the good guy but he’s also not the worst, slightly rough sex but not violent. Warnings are liable to be added as the story goes but I’ll always update. As always if I miss something please tell me, but i extensively label my warnings and in the end media consumption is your own choice. If you would like to know if this is a happy ending or not you can message me and I’ll tell you that way I don’t spoil for everyone but you can decide if this is for you.
Immersability: Reader has long hair, can conceive children theoretically.
Extra warnings: homophobia, pedophilia (nothing actually happens), David creepiness.
**********************
You were stuck in the house on a rainy day, helping Lisa with the cookies for dinner tonight. Your head was swirling, memories of the last several nights making your thighs clench. You hadn’t seen Angela since the night you and her fucked 3 day ago, the heavy rain making the menial store runs not worth it for now. Couldn’t risk getting sick in case you were pregnant, now could you?
Would things change between you? Did this mean you were gay? You had no idea, you needed to see her, she was the only person you could trust with this. Joel hadn’t changed, continuing to fuck you last night, while the night before he taught Ellie. Ellie came before any for him.
She was upstairs right now with Riley and that made you even more nervous. You knew what they were doing, they weren’t subtle one bit. Ellie had no sense of self preservation, it seems. You decided to go upstairs to check on her, but quickly turned away when you heard the sound of kissing. Shit. They were loud. You didn’t want to interrupt them, feeling flustered and embarrassed by overhearing so you dash downstairs to try and see where Gina was, to make sure she wasn’t coming upstairs. It was there you saw Gina welcoming Bedford inside.
Shit. Shit shit shit.
“You can fetch Elizabeth from her room, Commander Bedford.” Gina spoke. “She’s up there with Mrs. Jones. They are such close friends, I do hope they can see each other often when she’s married.”
“Of course, Mrs. Miller. It’s so important for the wives to have close friendship to grow closer to god with each other and lean on those hard times.”
You needed to get to Ellie. You neede to warm her before she’s caught; you doubted even Joel could keep her and Riley off the wall.
“I can go get her, Mrs. Miller” You offer and move towards Ellie’s, room, but Gina catches your arm.
She narrows her eyes at you. “No, I think Commander Bedford has it, thank you OfJoel.”
You try to push past. “Really, it’s no-”
But you were shoved away, into the hall, her grip still firm on you, and nodding David Bedford away to the girls room.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Mrs. Miller, you need to let me go, you need to stop him.” You’re getting more frantic, trying to get out of her grip but her fingernails dug into your skin painfully. “Ellie, she-”
Gina’s face was sudden close to yours. “I know what her and Riley are doing, you little harlot, I’m getting her out of my face so she can stop embaressing me.”
She was trying to get Ellie and Riley killed?
“ELLIE!” You start to scream but Gina worked fast, shoving you out the door and locking it.
You didn’t think to much on what you did next. You were never getting out of Gilead alive, you were never going to see your son again. You didn’t even know if this would do anything… but Joel was gone, and only one person could help. Taking off, you run next door, not stopping to knock. “COMMANDER MILLER! COMMANDER MILLER!” You ony had the slightest sense to think he call him commander miller instead of Tommy.
Angela appeared around the corner, green eyes wide and wild. “OfJoel, what are you-”
“I need Tommy, emergency!”
Hearing his name, Tommy runs down the stairs. “What the hell is happening!”
“Gina brought Commander Bedford to the house” You grab him and start pulling him out the house as you explain, there was no time to waste. “She’s there with Riley, they’re kissing, I- I don’t know what else, but Gina, she said she was trynng to get Ellie caught!”
Tommy ran past you. “Fucking bitch! Angela, stay here-”
“No fucking way!”
But Tommy shot her a look. Never have you seen Angela fold for a man, and certainly not Tommy. She liked Tommy, but you didn’t take orders from men you pegged. Angela as told to get to his office and call Joel
You tell Tommy the door is locked, but he has a spare key and gets inside. You hear shouting upstairs and Tommy’s long legs are taking the steps three at a time to get to his niece but you lag behind, slowed in your stupid shoes.
“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM THEM!”
*
Everyone was in the parlor.
A very terrified and wide eyed Ellie standing opposite of an equally scared Riley. Tommy stood by his niece and you, shouting at Gina. Commander Bedford stayed quiet, but his eyes were alert, carefully watching everyting and everyone. Luke and Lesa even lurked in the shadows, listening in.
“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE!” Joel’s booming voice broke into the house, dorm slamming shut with such a force, pictures shook on the walls.
“Dad!” Ellie ran across the rooms, passing David and Gina fearlessly now that her father was in the room. Joel took her quickly into a protective hug, turning her body away from the household, his broad width keeping her from view. “Are you okay, baby girl?”
She nodded. “Dad, I fucked up, I fucked up so bad-”
“Shhh, Ellie, it’s okay…” He stroked her hair that had fallen out, tucking it behind her ears. “I’m gonna protect you.” With Ellie trailing behind him, he grabbed Riley as well, pulling her away from Bedford. He knew exactly what Bedford was, and would not allow him near either girl. He locked eyes with Tommy.
Gina spoke first. “This is your fault, allowing her to just do whatever she wants, she’s spoiled-”
“Hush, woman! Will someone explain to me what happened.”
Finally, David spoke. “It seems I caught Miss Miller and Mrs. Jones in a rather… compromising position.”
Joel stood tall and powerful in front of the two teens. “I certainly don’t know to what you’re implying, Bedford, but I suggest you tread lightly, here.”
David stepped forward, and eerie calm in his voice and soft smile on his face. “Commander Miller, I assure I want this all sorted out as well but the fact of the matter is I saw Miss Miller and Mrs. Jones kissing. Not only is this gender betrayal, but it’s an affair for Mrs. Jones, an affair in which Miss Miller is complicit. This can get both of them killed or sent to the colonies.” The colonies were basically a death sentence.
“Neither of them” He spoke firmly, sure. “Are going to the wall or the colonies, Bedford. They are just kids.” When this didn’t work, he softened his tone to the negotiator. “C’mon, David. You were a teacher, you know these are just kids, they do stupid shit.”
He shakes his head. “Actions need to have consequences, Joel, you know this. Back then, we allowed this sort of thing to run rampant and we were punished by God, taking away our children.”
“Bullshit!” Tommy barked across the room. “If God was punishing us for anything, it’s for sicko’s like you touching little kids!” With long strides, Tommy walked over shouting at Bedford, but Joel put up a hand to stop him. He needed to negotiate.
“What do you want, David?”
He sighed, holding both his hands behind his back. “I think young Elizabeth’s problem-”
Joel’s face shifted into a warning glower. “Do not talk about my daughter-”
“Is that she is at marriage age, needs a husband to set her on the right path.”
Tommy scoffed. “And that man is you?”
“Yes, I think so. She’s a strong willed woman, could be a leader among the wives if she’s set on the right path. The bible does, in fact, teach in favour of strong women, despite what our enemies say.”
From behind Joel, Ellie steps out, brave now that she has two protectors. “Yeah? Like who?” She challenged, Joel trying to hush her but sighing. He knew he couldn’t.
But David was not phased. “Judith, Ruth, Esther, Mary Magdalen. You would know that if you paid attention to theology class instead of staring at my niece.”
“I would know that if you let me read the damn bible!” She took a few short step towards David as she screamed at him, the room erupting in commotion
“Ellie!” Gina shouted and began to stride toward her daughter she clearly held so much contempt for, but Tommy gripped her arm yanking her back, growling to stay growing at her to ‘stay the hell away’ from Ellie.
Joel’s eyes widened; swearing was being added to her list of offenses today, and ‘damn bible’ made it worse, as did an expression of desire to read. She was digging herself deeper. Riley tried to cull Ellie back in, but the only thing that stopped her was Joel’s strong arm around her pulling her back in. The only person remaining calm was David.
“Allow me to marry Elizabeth, and I’ll make sure she fulfills her potential.”
Joel watched for a long time, planning his next move. He’d always been so in control, so sure of himself and the future… He hadn’t felt this lost since Sarah died. It was then he noticed you. WHen you and Joel locked eyes, you knew there was nothing he could do. He was accepting his fate.
“And you won’t tell a soul about her?”
“Dad, no!”
“No one outside of this room.”
“And Riley, you won’t tell Commander Jones?”
“Joel, man, what are you doing?”
“They’ll remain safe, you have my word.”
Joel took a deep breath. “Fine, you may inform the counsel of the betrothal, now get the fuck out of my home.”
Chaos shattered like glass, confusing everyone in the room as Bedford left the house.
“Dad! What the hell! What is wrong with you!” Ellie berated her dad. Gina tried to tell her to shut up, but Joel snapped and turned to his wife, eyes cold and sharp.
“You! I know you did this shit Gina. You’ll fucking pay for this, I’ll have your fucking head on a pike!”
Gina was undeterred. “She had to get married at some point-”
“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY SIGHT!”
When Gina left, he called for Luke, asking him to escort Ellie and Riley to the car, he was taking Riley home.
Ellie was furious. “How could you do this! How could you abandon me like everyone else!”
“Ellie.” Joel turned to her, placing two hands on her shoulders. “I promise you, I’m not letting that man touch you.”
Her eyes narrowed at him. “Not even you can stop this, Joel.” Ellie took Riley’s hand and followed behind Luke to the car. Only you, Tommy and him were left. Joel turned to you.
“Thank you, for getting Tommy. I’ll… I’ll make sure you don’t get any backlash from Gina… you tell me if she does anything to yuh.” To Tommy now. “I’m coming over after I make sure Riley gets home safe, okay? We’re gonna figure this out.”
The worry in Tommy’s eyes said he wasn’t sure there was a way out at all.
********************
Im sorry this is taking 5 ever to write ;-;
I hope y'll still like it. I still care about this story and eeing it through <3
@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @dins-riduur-anthe @morallyinept @fan-fiction-floozy @med494 @taliarose12 @flvrdoll @k-ra @sam-2me @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @moriartyyouwhore @hereforthepedrofanfic @alwaysmicado @noisynightmarepoetry @kyloispunk @jenna-ortega @lunitareads @labyrinthofheartagrams @swimmjacket @theywhowriteandknowthings @everyth1ngfan @movievillainess721 @syrupstuff @christinamadsen @darlingshame @genetics4life @stevngrant @crazysouthernlady @joeldjarin @gwendibleywrites @ladynightengale @justagalwhowrites @pedge-page @magpiepills @zliteraturehoe @lover-of-books-and-tea
#Joel miller#Joel miller x reader#blessed be the fruit#the handmaids tale#the handmaids take au#commander!joel#commander!Tommy#Tommy miller#dark!joel#the wrong way series#the last of us hbo#dark joel miller#the wrong way fic#non con#dub con#dark tlou#dark the last of us#dark au#joel miller smut#joel miller fic#tommy miller#tommy miller smut#sub tommy miller
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I wanna go to the hardware store and pretend I'm confused so maybe a handsome contractor with baby cow eyes and delicious arms will offer me some help and fall in love with me.
Then on our wedding day:
- Joelie, I have to confess something. The day we met I was just pretending. I actually know my way around the hardware store very well but I was too shy to talk to you 🤭
- Well, darling, I guess this a good time to confess I'm not a contractor. I was pretending. I actually sell hardcore drugs 😌☝🏻
I love this silly man 🩷
#joel miller#Joelie Miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfic#joel tlou#joel x reader#joel miller fluff#joel miller imagine#tlou joel#joel the last of us#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#tlou#tlou fanfiction#no outbreak!joel miller#pedro pascal characters#merz-8
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maintenance request ch 20 preview
a/n: and then Joel met Ellie 👀
tags/warnings: nerves lol
main post & chapter list
...
Joel was waiting for you outside of the restaurant when you arrived. He was looking pretty nervous himself.
“Hey, darlin,” he murmured as he leaned in to kiss your cheek.
“Morning, Joel.” You smiled and gestured behind you. “You know Beth. And this is Ellie.”
Joel and Ellie looked at each other for a moment. She was squinting at him fiercely and you could tell he was trying not to smile in response.
“Nice to meet you, Ellie.” Joel nodded at her and you were suddenly glad he seemed to intuit that offering a handshake was not a good idea. “Heard a lot about you from your aunt.”
“Hi,” she replied, eyes narrowed. “What did you hear?”
…
a/n: see you Friday!
tag list: @harriedandharassed @jupiter-soups @ilovepedro @auteurdelabre @anoverwhelmingdin
@myloveistoolittle @iknowisoundcrazy @beezusvreeland @screechingphantommaker @bigboiseason123
@joelalorian @untamedheart81 @ashleyfilm @jessthebaker @jeewrites
@fluffygoffpanda @paleidiot @mithicakurogo @theclairvoyage @lizzie-cakes
@islacharlotte @syd-djarin @copperhalfcent @vabeachazn @spacedoutdaydreamer
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#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#maintenance request fic#JHCGBDM
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Joel and Preggo Wife where she's sitting in her bed, hunched over and holding her belly while looking down at it and in deep thought.
"Would the baby still love me if I was a worm?"
"What?"
"What if she ended up being a worm. We would still love her. Right?"
"I-"
"What If when she's born, WE turn into worms. Joel, Would she still love us if we were worms???" You asked panicked.
He looks at his alarm clock: it's only 7:46pm.
He rubs his eyes as you stare at him with genuine concern awaiting his answer.
"How bout a cup of strawberries and whip cream?"
"OooooooooooOoooooh the kkkrrsssshhhhh kind from the can?"
"Whatever you want."
You nod eagerly and pat your tummy. "OK just a lil. Actually bring the whole can."
Crisis averted.
#joel miller fan fiction#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfiction#last of us fanfiction#joel miller fic#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller fluff#the last of us fluff#tlou fluff#the last of us fic#last of us fic#joel dealing with preggo wife
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Teacher's Pet
Joel Miller x virgin f!reader
Summary: 25 years old, anxiety-ridden, and still a virgin, you ask your friend Joel for advice on your upcoming date. But you're more of a...hands-on learner. And he's more than happy to help.
Warnings: PWP, unbalanced power dynamics, virgin!reader, neighbor/bff/more experienced! Joel, age gap, first kiss, virginity loss, fingering, oral (f receiving), frequent check-ins, soo much banter and Joel is a menace also so soft and sweet :')....(ends on a cliffhanger but there will be a part two I swear).
w/c: 7.7k idk what happened
a/n: I am resurfacing for your monthly reminder that I do in fact still write!! Inspiration for this came out of literally nowhere but I took it and RAN with it and I think I like it?? As always, thank you to my baby love @undrthelights for helping me with this and always listening to my rambling and for being my biggest enabler Ilysm
Part Two
my masterlist
"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever."
Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck pound in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed.
"A what?"
"Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head.
"No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?”
"Seriously, Joel. Fuck off" you snap but with no bite or heat behind it. You bring the sweating bottle of beer to your lips and finish the rest of the now lukewarm liquid off in one gulp.
"What? I just find it hard to believe that you've never even had a kiss. Didn't you go to high school? Didn't you ever get invited to a party? Didn't you go to college? College kids do the do like all the time”
"Clearly not all the time" you mutter, a tad bitterly.
Joel raises his hands defensively and takes a sip of his own beer. "Just seems crazy is all. There's gotta be some chick or dude out there willing to take pity on you and pop your cherry."
You audibly gag at his choice of words. "I don't need a pity fuck, thanks." You stand from the couch and head over to the fridge. The bottles of cold alcohol inside are calling your name and you want something that will help soothe your nerves. You're not a big drinker, but when Joel is prying into your love life like he is now, you wish you were.
"Okay,” he starts from the living room. “Maybe I worded that wrong. What I meant to say was, there's gotta be someone out there who would be more than willing to show you a good time."
You groan and let your forehead fall against the fridge door. "That's the whole point! I came here to get advice for my date, someone who might actually be interested in me, and all you've done is make fun of me for not having fucked anyone yet. So thanks, Joel. You're a real pal."
You push away from the fridge and slam the door shut, a second beer in hand.
"Alright, alright, calm down." He says, hands in the air as if you were holding him at gunpoint as you head back to the couch. "Look, if this guy really likes you then he's not gonna care. Probably won't even be able to tell if you are or aren't."
"You think so?" You ask hopefully.
"Well, I mean, unless you're like... super bad."
Your heart drops into your stomach and you glare at him, "Joel."
"Oh come on, I'm kidding. You're not gonna be bad, okay? Just, go into it with an open mind and just relax. If he tries something you're not comfortable with or makes you feel weird, tell him. And if he gets pussy, dump his ass."
"That simple, huh?" You scoff.
"Well, yeah. You're the one who made it complicated by thinking it was a big deal."
"It is a big deal, Joel! I know nothing!
"Nothing? You ain’t ever watched porn? Jesus, I had no idea you were such a prude."
You can't stop yourself from rolling your eyes and slapping the back of your hand against his arm. He yelps and laughs, rubbing his arm.
"I've watched porn before" you retort.
"What kind?" he asks with a wiggle of his brows.
"None of your fucking business" you respond, feeling your face heat up.
Joel's lips quirk into a shit-eating grin and you're quick to smack him again.
"Okay okay, sorry!" he says through his laughter. "So what exactly are you afraid of?"
You're not really sure how to answer. It's a combination of so many things, most of which are irrational fears and insecurities. Sure you've seen it all done before, but you're well aware that none of it is realistic. At least, not completely. And just the fact that you're freshly 25 years old without a single notch in your bedpost makes you dizzy with anxiety. It's not like you're saving yourself or anything, it's just that hook up culture has never agreed with you and there's never been an opportunity that made you feel like it was the right one. That is until now, with your cute coworker who you thought was miles out of your league asking you out on a third date. And now, the prospect of being in bed with him is looming over you like a dark cloud and the last thing you want to do is mess it up.
"I guess, I'm just afraid that he's gonna be disappointed, or I'm gonna weird him out, or I'm gonna do something wrong and embarrass myself.” Joel nods along and listens. "And if it is bad then we still have to work with each other and then what if it's awkward and everyone knows about it and then he hates me and--"
"Okay, whoa slow down there, buddy" Joel says, putting a hand on your shoulder. "One, you're overthinking this. You're literally thinking like, five steps ahead of what's actually going on. It's a date. And even if it does end up in the bedroom, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. No one's forcing you, okay? He can't. No one can."
"I know, but I want to," you reply quietly.
"Alright. Then do."
"I don't know howwww!! " you whine, flopping backwards into the couch.
Joel groans and sits up a little straighter, scrubbing a hand down his face.
"Well, there's no magic trick, I don't have a secret sex manual I'm holding out on ya."
You sigh, shoulders sagging as you look over at him. The idea comes out of nowhere, well, not exactly from nowhere, but it pops in your head so fast that you then have to bite your tongue before the words bubbling up from your throat come tumbling out.
It's not a bad idea, not necessarily.
You've been good friends with Joel ever since you moved in next door last year. An unlikely pairing, a 40 year old contractor and an almost 25 year old office worker. But after offering him a six pack as part of introducing yourself to the neighbors, you'd gotten along famously. He fixes things around your house and you send him home with hot dinners and warm, gooey cookies.
It's an easy friendship, open and honest and supportive, and Joel has never given you reason not to trust him. He's a good guy, if not a little brash, but you know deep down he means well. And it doesn't hurt that he's objectively attractive, with his tall and sturdy frame, strong, calloused hands, dark messy curls....It's not a bad idea.
It's an absolutely insane idea.
You continue to stare at him, clenching your teeth together to hold back the question sitting on the tip of your tongue.
"What?" he says, looking back at you.
"Nothing" you mutter, eyes flicking away.
"You've got that face you make when you're about to say something really stupid, so just get it out."
You glare at him again, not enjoying the way he can read you so well.
"I wasn't gonna say anything."
"Well now you're lying."
"I'm not."
"You're doing it again!"
"Doing what?!"
"That face!"
"I'm not making a face!"
"Yes you are! Just spit it out!"
You groan and hide your face in your hands. You blame it on the one beer even though you know you’re not anywhere close to being drunk because how else would you justify what you’re about to say? You wait a moment, thinking about the weight of it but your mouth opens before you can stop yourself.
"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever."
Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck and hear it in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed.
"A what?"
"Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head.
"No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?”
His eyes are wide, and he looks incredulous. You can't blame him, because the more time that passes between your suggestion and now, the more ridiculous the idea seems.
"I’m sorry, that was…It was stupid. Pretend I didn't say anything. Let's just watch a movie." You move to grab the remote, but Joel's hand covers yours, stopping you.
"Is that what you want?"
You look at him, searching his expression for any sign of disgust or apprehension. But all you can see is the same Joel you've known for months, patient, warm, and understanding.
"I know. I know it's stupid. But I can't get this date out of my head, Joel. It's all I can think about and the more I do, the more worried I get and I just don't want to fuck it up. And I know we're friends and this is weird and gross, but I just thought that... maybe, I could have some practice, so to speak."
He doesn't say anything. Just keeps looking at you, the panic rising in your chest the longer the silence stretches. You start to fidget, wringing your hands together in your lap.
"I'm sorry, that was way out of line" you say, moving to stand up, your skin sweaty and hot with embarrassment and your feet ready to run out the door and never come back.
But Joel catches your wrist, gently pulling you back down to sit next to him.
"Joel" you whine, not wanting him to humiliate you any further.
"It's okay, come here."
His voice is softer than before, and his eyes are kind. You let him pull you closer, the two of you sitting knee to knee. You can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes, not with your cheeks and the tips of your ears burning like they are, but Joel doesn't push. He simply moves his hand from your wrist, sliding it into yours. His palms are rough and warm, and the simple touch alone is comforting.
"You really wanna do this?” he asks softly. You can feel his eyes boring into you. “I mean, I'm not exactly a prize winning catch. And it's not like there's a shortage of willing men out there."
You shrug and chew the inside of your lip.
"Yeah, but you're my friend and I...I trust you."
There's another pause, and you wish that you could just disappear into the couch and erase this moment from your memory.
"How drunk are you?" he asks, glancing at the beer bottle on the coffee table.
"You saw me finish one bottle. And half of another. I’m barely tipsy."
"Not drunk?”
"Nope."
"You're gonna remember this tomorrow."
"Uh huh."
"And you still want to?"
You groan for the millionth time and squeeze his hand.
"Yes I want to! Look, if you don't want to then that's fine. It was just a dumb suggestion and we can just forget this ever happened."
He hums, considering your words. His hand slips out of yours, and you think that's it, you've scared him off and washed the friendship down the drain. That you'll have to hide from him from now on, that you'll have to pack your things up and move because the mortification would be too much, and that he'll hate you, and—
His two fingers sliding under chin surprise you, and he tilts your head up. He's looking down at you with that same even expression, eyes big, soft, and warm as he slides his hand over to cup your jaw in his palm.
"If you want to stop at any point, just say so, okay? I won't be upset and we can go back to the way things were before. Got it?"
You nod, your throat suddenly too tight to speak. His thumb sweeps over your cheekbone, the tender touch is enough to make your heart skip a beat. There’s no way this is actually happening. That your first kiss is going to be with your 40 year old menace of a neighbor. That you’re going to, how did you put it, get a sex lesson from him. His gaze flicks down to your lips and back up to your eyes and you’re positive you’re no longer able to breathe.
"Can I kiss you?" he asks softly. You nod.
You're sure he can hear the thumping of your heart in his own ears as he leans down. His other hand comes to rest on your hip and when his lips touch yours, a soft, tentative pressure, you're not prepared for the electricity that shoots through you.
He's barely done anything and already you feel like you're floating. Your own hands reach out to clutch his shirt, keeping him close, afraid he'll pull away and leave you cold and wanting if you don't. But he stays put, pressing himself against you, his lips working gently against yours. You follow his lead, kissing him back while trying not to overthink it.
It's nothing like the kisses in the movies or the books, where fireworks explode behind your eyelids or where your foot pops up in the air. It's far more subdued, more quiet and subtle. But the warmth that pools low in your belly and the goosebumps that erupt on your skin when his tongue slides against the seam of your lips, light and quick, makes you absolutely melt.
He pulls back before you can really react, and you're left with a dizzying rush of both blistering desire and excruciating anxiety. You want to pull him back in and never let him go. But your heart is beating so fast you can hardly breathe, your nerves are buzzing, and the urge to run and hide is nearly paralyzing.
"Was it bad?" you ask tentatively, cheeks heated.
"No" he replies, giving your hip a squeeze as a smirk plays on his lips. "It was fucking awful. Worst kiss of my life"
"Shut up!" you hiss, pushing him away with a hand on his chest. He laughs, the sound easing some of the tension in your body.
"I'm just teasing" he says, voice dropping lower. "C'mere, we can work on it."
His lips find yours again, and you try not to smile into the kiss but it's hard when you can feel the way his lips are quirked up as well. It doesn’t take much else to get you to relax and let yourself fall into the moment, into the gentle press of his mouth and the warm hands on your hip and your cheek. He swipes his tongue against your lips again, his fingers pressing lightly into the hinge of your jaw to tilt your head back and coax your lips apart.
You let him, sighing as his tongue glides across yours, hot and smooth and sweet. Your hands slide up his chest, finding purchase around his shoulders, and when you move forward, pushing yourself against him, he grunts softly but lets you. He kisses you until the both of you are gasping for air, and when he pulls back, his lips are wet and red and you're certain yours must be as well.
"Better?" you ask, a bit breathless.
"Getting there" he answers with, his breath warm where it fans across your cheek.
"You're such a liar" you say with a goofy smile.
"Yeah, I know. Now try again, practice makes perfect.”
You roll your eyes but lean back in nonetheless. It's a bit more heated this time, the feeling of his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip making you squirm. His hand rounds over your hip, palm smoothing to the small of your back to pull you closer, the heat of his body radiating through your clothes and warming your skin. Your hands move on their own accord, no thought behind the action as they slide up to his shoulders and then his neck, your fingers finding home in the curls at the base of his skull. When you give them a slight tug, you're rewarded with a muffled grunt from Joel. Emboldened, you pull back, lips swollen and tingling.
"You’re a good kisser,” you pant. "Is that something people usually say?"
"When it’s true" he says, grinning at you. "And since I know you're gonna ask, I'd say that was a C+, maybe a B-."
You scoff but blush furiously at the smile he flashes, his eyes crinkling in the corners.
"Well then, tell me what to do next. What do I need to know?"
Joel hums as he thinks for a moment.
"What do you want to do?"
You stare at him for a second, blinking.
"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you" you say, shaking your head a bit.
"Well, how far do you want to take this?"
You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very shy. You can’t deny that when the idea popped in your head it was accompanied by the mental image of you naked, spread out on his bed, but the actual act of asking him, or better yet, actually doing it is... intimidating to say the least. Are you really about to let him go all the way, to see you bare and vulnerable, let him pop your cherry as he would disgustingly put it? All just to “prepare” for a date with a guy who might not even like you that way?
Yeah, probably.
"All the way" you answer. “I want to go all the way”
He doesn’t pounce on you like you expected, doesn’t press his lips against yours in a frenzied kiss that you had half hoped for. Instead, he simply looks at you, his brown eyes boring into yours, searching.
"Are you sure? You can always say no and you're not gonna lose me as a friend if this isn’t what you actually want. I don’t want you thinking that."
You can't help the laugh that bubbles up and slips out, because of course Joel, your kind, thoughtful Joel, would say that. He's a good man. A great one, even.
"Yes, I'm sure. But if you don't, I get it, I can just leave and-"
Joel laughs, the sound traveling up from deep in his chest, the rumble vibrating against you.
"Sweetheart, I wouldn't be doin’ this if I didn't want to. Just makin’ sure this is what you really want."
"I want it.”
He squeezes your hip and swipes a thumb over your cheekbone once again.
“Alright then.” He nods, firm and resolute, and then looks around the room. “ We’re not doing it here, though. If you're getting the full Joel Miller experience, we're gonna do it right.”
Your eyes roll reflexively, but your heart picks up its pace regardless.
"I’m not gonna do anything if you call it that ever again."
"Fine, fine,” he relents. “Let me show you what a good, thorough fucking feels like. Better?"
Your jaw drops, and he's laughing at you, his body shaking with amusement.
"Fuck you" you grumble, shoving him away while trying to hide your coy smile.
"Yeah, that's what I'm hoping for," he says with a wide, self-assured grin.
"I'm leaving" you declare with a false sense of offense as you rise to your feet. Joel is quick to do the same and before you can take a single step away, he slips a finger through the belt loop of your jeans and tugs you back into him, wrapping an arm around your waist.
"I’ll stop, I’ll stop. I'm sorry" he says, not sounding it one bit.
You huff, but let him pull you closer until you’re pressed against his chest and you have to tilt your head back to look at him.
"I’ll be good. I promise."
"Liar"
"Well, yeah. But I can promise that I'll make you feel good."
You can't help the giggle that spills out and he kisses it away, his lips warm and plush and sweet against yours. The hand not resting on your lower back comes up, curling around the nape of your neck and keeping you close. You sink into him, and the fog creeps in again, dulling the rest of the world, making it seem fuzzy and distant, like the memory of a dream. All you can focus on is him, the warm solid weight of him against you, the strong arms holding you, the way his mouth moves against yours. And then he’s pulling back all too soon and you have to stifle a whine.
"Come on" he says, tugging at your hand.
His bedroom is dim, the little lamp on his nightstand and the faint glow of the moon through the curtains providing the only light. You swallow and take a deep breath as you step inside, your bare toes digging into the plush carpet, his hand warm and large where it grips yours.
He holds onto you as he sits on the edge of the bed. You step forward, letting him pull you between his knees. His hands settle on your hips, and you can feel their heat through the fabric of your shirt.
He doesn’t ask if you're sure again and you’re grateful because you’re not sure if you could form any kind of response right now. Instead, he slides his hands up and under your shirt, fingers dancing across your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps. Your breath hitches as his hands smooth over your ribs and around to your back, the tips of his fingers mapping out the curve of your spine, skimming over each notch and bump. They climb higher, the fabric of your shirt bunching around his wrists.
“Can I take this off, baby?”
Your heart jumps to your throat but you nod anyway. He grabs the hem and tugs your shirt up and and you lift your arms so he can slip it off over your head. He tosses it aside, the fabric falling to the floor beside the bed. You’re left exposed, vulnerable and bare, save for the worn out bra you wear, a few too many washes and a few years past its prime.
Your hands itch where they hang by your side with the instinct to cover yourself, hide the imperfections that you know so well, the stretch marks, the softness of your stomach, the way the cups of your bra are just a bit too small and spill over the tops.
But then he’s pressing his lips to the space just above your navel, his scruff tickling your skin and making the muscles in your abdomen jump and twitch. His hands find your waist again, and when his lips continue their path upwards, his palms follow, skimming up your sides, thumbs tracing the outline of your ribs before stopping at the band of your bra.
"This too?" he asks, voice quiet and husky.
"Yeah" you answer with a squeak, and he grins like a kid in a candy store.
His fingers undo the clasp deftness that makes your knees go weak, the straps slipping from your shoulders and the whole thing sliding down your arms, landing somewhere near your shirt.
"God, baby, look at you" he murmurs, his hands cupping the underside of your breasts, his thumbs sweeping over the tops and then down the slope and around your nipple. Your breath hitches, the gentle touch sending a shiver up your spine. "You're fucking perfect."
The praise is unexpected and it sends a jolt of heat through your core. You whimper quietly and his hands are on you again, the calloused palms rough on the soft skin of your breasts. He kneads the flesh, squeezing gently before rolling your nipples between his fingers, pulling and pinching and teasing.
He pulls you closer and ducks his head, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes dark and hooded, and his pupils blown wide with desire.
"Can I?" he asks.
"Please."
He leans in and wraps his lips around a peaked nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, the gentle heat of his mouth on your skin making your knees weak.
His mouth works on one breast, tongue flicking and teasing while his free hand continues its work on the other. Pleasure builds and coils deep inside, the sensation unfamiliar but certainly not unwelcome. You whimper and he pulls away, releasing your nipple with a wet pop before giving it a sweet parting kiss.
He turns his attention to the other, his teeth grazing over the stiff peak and drawing a whine from your lips. He sighs when your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling at the strands until he groans softly against you. He sucks your other nipple into his mouth, the flat of his tongue pressing against it and dragging up and around, swirling and flicking. You’re already breathless, panting, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on your forehead.
"Feels good, Joel," you whisper shyly.
"I know, honey" he says, a soft smile pulling at his lips when he pulls away. "Feel good anywhere else?"
He doesn't wait for a response, simply slips a hand between your thighs, cupping you through the denim, the simple action making you squeak.
"Here, huh?" he says, the heel of his palm pressing against you.
You gasp softly and nod, biting your lip, too shy to say anything.
"Get on the bed, baby."
You comply, crawling onto the mattress and scooting backwards towards the pillows, sitting at the head of the bed as you watch him. His eyes never leave you as he pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor. Your heart thumps as you stare at his bare chest, his tanned skin dotted with a light dusting of salt and pepper hair. He's broad, his shoulders thick and chest solid. Your fingers burn with the urge to reach out and touch him, so you do, extending a tentative, slightly shaky hand.
He watches you closely, eyes flitting down to the palm pressed against his chest before meeting yours again, his mouth curling into a smile.
"You can touch" he says, reaching down to curl a hand around your wrist and bringing it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the center of your palm before guiding your hand back down to his chest. "I think most people would enjoy that."
"You're having entirely too much fun with this,” you mumble while your fingers spread out across his pec.
"It is fun" he counters, his own hand sliding up the inside of your thigh, thumb pressing against the seam of your jeans and rubbing up and down. "But it'll be more fun once these come off"
Your lips part, a puff of air rushing out.
"You gonna take them off?" you ask, the words slipping out, bold and unbidden.
He grins, his brow quirking up.
"Look at you, being all bossy"
"You like it" you say, finally feeling some of the anxiety slipping away, the familiar and comfortable banter between the two of you slipping into place in a new, unfamiliar situation.
His smile takes up nearly his whole face as moves closer.
“I sure do.”
He looms over you, bracing himself on an elbow next to your head before ducking down to kiss you, his tongue easily slipping into your mouth, warm and insistent. You sigh into it, your hands finding the warm, bare skin of his back, muscles gliding beneath your palms as you slide them up and around, fingertips digging into his shoulders. He's so warm and solid and you can't help the little noise that slips out, a soft, needy moan. You're about to break the kiss and beg him to touch you, give you something, anything, but he pulls back before you can.
"Impatient. I like that too" he says, voice barely above a whisper.
He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then down your neck, his beard scraping against your skin. He continues his path, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses across your collarbones and down the valley between your breasts, his beard tickling your sternum.
His palm presses into the top of your thigh, and you instinctively open your legs for him, his hand immediately moving to cup you through the denim, thick fingers pressing against the seam and the bundle of nerves just below. Your hips rock up, seeking more pressure and he grins, entirely too pleased with himself right now.
You huff, and he laughs, the sound rumbling in his chest, but he relents, undoing the button and zipper of your jeans and tugging the fabric down, revealing the pair of pink panties underneath.
Joel sits up, pulling your jeans down your legs and letting them drop off the side of the bed, the sound of the denim hitting the floor indicating that you've officially crossed a line that neither of you can come back from. But if the hungry, desperate look on his face and the way you're practically vibrating underneath him are any indication, neither of you want to.
"I'll start with just my fingers, yeah?" he says, his hands running up the insides of your thighs, touch light and teasing, the tips of his fingers brushing the edge of your panties. You nod dumbly, at a complete loss for words right now.
He ducks his head, his lips landing on the smooth skin stretched over your hip bone. You squirm, ticklish, and he grins. His mouth is a great distraction from his hand, which has found its way back in between your legs, his fingers now pressing against damp fabric.
"Shit" he curses, his touch firm. "Fuckin' soaked already. Am I just that good?" he quips with a smirk.
"Jesus do you ever shut up" you gripe, but the effect is ruined by the whimper that escapes you when his thumb sweeps up, pressing hard against your clit.
"Oh, that's a pretty sound" he murmurs, repeating the motion to pull out another one, your hips bucking against his hand.
"Now," he starts, his tone shifting to the same one he uses when he's about to impart some life lesson. "This guy you're gonna see, or any man for that matter, should always take care of you before himself. That's just common fuckin' sense. And if he doesn't, you send him on his way" he continues. "Because a man that don't wanna see a woman get off is no fuckin' man at all"
You're about to interrupt, tell him he's an idiot and ask him to please, please, get on with it, but his fingers sliding under the elastic of your panties, swiftly pulling them down your legs steals the breath from your lungs. Your pulse sky rockets and you shift underneath him, crossing your thighs in instinctual effort to hide yourself from him.
"M'sorry I didn't shave or anything" you blurt out, your throat tight with anxiety and embarrassment once again
Joel just shakes his head as he pries your legs apart.
"Baby, I could not give less of a shit about that."
"But-"
"No" he says, the word firm, an edge of command to his tone. "You’re not apologizin’ for that. And if a man gives a shit, he's a fuckin' child who doesn't deserve the honor of bein' between these thighs" he says, pushing your knees further apart.
You nod and bite your lip, the words that are just so very Joel, settling in your chest and easing the tension in your body. You let out a long, slow breath and relax, trying to ease the nervousness.
"There ya go" he says, his fingers dancing along your slit, gathering the slick pooling there. You shudder at the gentle touch, your hips rolling up just a bit before you force them back down into the mattress, trying to keep yourself still.
"Nuh-uh. None of that" he says, immediately noticing the movement. He slides his free hand under you, his palm pushing into the small of your back and encouraging you to move again, to lean into your pleasure. "You take what you want, baby. Show me how good it feels. That's all I wanna see."
You squirm and whimper, the simple, almost lazy touch driving you insane. You've touched yourself before, brought yourself over the edge while imagining what it would be like to have the things you read about and watch in videos happen to you. But you've never managed to make yourself feel this good, never felt pleasure so intense, never felt a burning pressure in your abdomen so demanding that it radiates all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes.
And he's barely touched you.
"How's that feel?"
You can't even form the words, so you just nod and hum, the sound a mix of a whimper and a moan, your hips rolling up against his palm. He chuckles, and then the pressure increases, the friction building, his fingers slipping down, collecting more of your wetness to ease the drag against your skin.
He moves his fingers down, down, down, the tip of one circling your entrance, gathering the wetness pooling there. You whine loudly, any shame and modesty you once had replaced entirely with desperate need and pure desire.
"Please, Joel" you whisper, voice shaky.
"I gotcha" he says, dipping his fingertip in, just barely, and pulling a moan from deep in your chest. "Gonna give you what you need"
You groan, a long, low sound as he slowly sinks his finger into you. It's nothing like your own, so perfectly thick and long/ And you found the spot before, the spot that he curls his finger up into, but never at this angle, never with the perfect amount of pressure that he's applying right now.
"Mmm, look at that" he coos as you clench tightly around his finger.
"Joel, god, feels so good" you whimper pathetically.
"I know, honey, I know."
You clench again, the cockiness and self-assured attitude that usually gets under your skin now ignites your whole body in an entirely different way. He keeps his eyes on your face, watching as your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth drops open, your head tipping back as the pleasure builds.
"Another" you beg, the fullness not nearly enough.
"Greedy girl" he chides, but he pulls his finger out, and slides two back in. You swear that you could come from this alone, but he doesn't let you, the hand that was supporting your lower back disappearing, only to reappear between your thighs, his thumb circling your clit with firm, steady strokes.
White hot pleasure wraps around the base of your spine, the dual sensations of his fingers and his thumb sending you spiraling. The sounds falling from your lips are unrecognizable, high and desperate as your mind goes blissfully blank, your entire focus on the heat coiling in your abdomen. Your eyebrows pinch together and you bury your face in the pillow next to your head, trying to hide the ridiculous expression you're surely making, but you inhale the traces of his shampoo and cologne that cling to the fabric, the scent pushing you even closer to the edge.
You try to hold back. Surely you're not supposed to come this quickly, not just from two fingers and a thumb. Surely that's a sign that you're an easy lay, or too inexperienced, or-
"Just let it happen, baby. I can feel it, Just let go" Joel says, his voice cutting through the thoughts racing through your mind, his fingers crooking inside you and dragging across the spot that makes your hips stutter and a cry fall from your lips.
You can't hold back any longer, the pleasure cresting and crashing down around you. You squeeze his fingers, your back arching, the heels of your feet digging into the mattress as you roll your hips up into his touch, seeking more and more and more. And he gives and gives and gives, working you through it and drawing it out for as long as he can before you melt into the mattress, bones and muscles liquid and warm and satisfied.
He pulls his fingers out, and the sudden emptiness draws a disappointed whine from you, his answering chuckle making you smile.
"That was- fuck" you sigh, not quite capable of coherent thought.
"Absolutely mind-blowing? Yeah I know" he teases. You roll your eyes but don't say anything because it's true, and his cocky grin fades into a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches you return to Earth.
"Can I- can I return the favor?" you ask, your gaze flicking down to the noticeable bulge in his jeans.
He grunts and shakes his head.
"Not yet. Got somethin' else in mind."
You frown and push yourself up onto your elbows, watching as he shifts from his position. You're about to ask what he's going to do until he's settling himself on his stomach between your thighs. You suck in a sharp breath as you realize exactly what he's got planned and your heart jumps, anxiety clouding your mind once again.
He rests his cheek on your thigh, his eyes meeting yours.
"Alright?"
You swallow and nod, licking your lips.
"Yeah. Just... no one's ever-"
"Yeah, I got that much, that's why we're here" he says, smiling smugly when you glare at him.
"But what if it's not good? Or I don't taste good? Or-"
"Stop" he says, the single word halting your runaway train of thought. "You need lessons in relaxing, not sex. You're so fucking tense all the time"
"Sorry" you say, immediately cringing.
He sighs, his breath ghosting over the skin of your inner thigh, making you shiver. "What did I say about apologizin'?" he says, his tone slightly sharp.
"I know. Sorry- shit, sorry! Fuck!"
He barks out a laugh and you huff, bringing up both hands to scrub over your face.
"See what I mean?"
"Yes, yes, you're very smart and know everything"
He hums and nips at your thigh.
"Damn right I do."
You want to snark back, but his mouth is moving, his lips trailing down the inside of your thigh and towards where you're aching for him, slick and wet and throbbing. He takes his time, laying kisses on your thighs, hips, and stomach, his scruff scraping the sensitive skin, huffing out a laugh when you start to squirm, your patience wearing thin.
His hands smooth over the soft flesh of your inner thighs, urging you to spread them wider before spreading you open with his thumbs, exposing you completely. You feel exposed, vulnerable, and the urge to close your legs and hide yourself from his gaze is overwhelming, the embarrassment making your skin burn. But before you can even think about closing them, his tongue is on you, sliding up the length of you and circling your clit. The moan that escapes you is embarrassingly loud and high pitched, but the mortification is easily swallowed up by the pleasure.
He hums against you, the sound and the feeling sending a shudder through your body. Your hands grip the pillow behind your head and you try not to buck up into his mouth, but your attempts are futile. He doesn't seem to mind though, in fact you think it spurs him on, his tongue flattening against you and lapping at you messily, the wetness he's coaxed from you smearing across his mouth and chin.
The sound is lewd and obscene, the sloppy, slick noises and the soft grunts and groans that rumble in his chest as he works you up. He pulls back, his breath coming out in pants, his chest heaving as he looks up at you, his eyes dark and hooded.
"Don't know what you were worried about" he says, his voice low and raspy. "You taste fuckin' divine"
His beard is shiny and damp, his lips glistening, hair messy from where your fingers were tangled in it. The sight of him looking so completely disheveled and filthy has you clenching around nothing, the ache almost too much to bear.
He doesn't say anything else, just ducks his head and gets back to work, his mouth moving with a renewed urgency, his hands gripping your thighs and pushing them further apart, allowing him better access.
Your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open, a constant stream of moans and whines and babbling pleas and praises falling from your lips, but you're not really sure what you're saying, not really sure of anything except the intoxicating pleasure coursing through your veins.
You hear him moan, can feel the vibration against your skin, and you glance down at him, and that's a mistake. The sight of him, his eyes closed and brows drawn together in concentration, his cheeks hollowed out as he sucks and nips and laps at you and– is he fucking grinding his hips into the mattress?
You're fucked.
A throaty moan tumbles past your lips as your hips start to rock, a rhythm forming as you chase your orgasm. His hands leave your thighs and he slides one arm up, the weight of it resting against your abdomen to keep you still while his other hand snakes down, fingers dipping inside again, finding the spot that makes you see stars.
"Fuck, Joel, please, oh my god, I'm so- please"
He groans in response, the hand on your stomach pressing down harder to meet the two fingers curling and stroking inside of you. You cry out at the increased pressure right as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around the bud, his fingers moving faster and faster. Flames lick up your spine and spread throughout your body, threatening to burn you alive.
Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, knocking the wind out of you and turning your limbs to jello. Wave after wave of blinding euphoria crashes over you and all you can do is cling to the pillow and arch your back, your toes curling as he continues to work his fingers and tongue, happily letting you ride his face and grind into his mouth.
He doesn't let up, not until you're a whimpering, trembling mess, physically pushing his head away when it becomes too much. He pulls back reluctantly, a wicked grin plastered to his face, his chin and mouth absolutely soaked. You're panting, struggling to catch your breath as the aftershocks make you shiver despite the content warmth spreading throughout your entire body.You feel sated and sleepy, a bone deep satisfaction making you feel boneless.
But as you come down from your high, rational thoughts start to filter in and you suddenly remember the reason this all started in the first place.
You're here to learn, he should be teaching you how to please a man.
How to please him.
You watch as he gets off the bed and wipes his chin with the back of his hand. Your eyes shamelessly rake over him, the dusty pink flush that decorates his neck and chest, the curve of his belly down to the impressive bulge in his jeans.
You push yourself up, ignoring the way your arms tremble with the effort. He looks at you, his eyes scanning your face no doubt looking for signs of distress.
"You ok?" he asks, eyebrows pinched together in his typical concerned Joel fashion.
"Yeah" you say, a little breathlessly. "But I still want to..."
Your voice trails off and you glance down at his crotch, hoping he gets the message.
"That's alright, baby. It's a lot, we don't-"
"No" you interrupt, a hint of desperation in your voice. "You said you would teach me. Please, Joel. I-I wanna learn" You hope it's a good enough cover to the fact that you really just want him, your original goal forgotten. "I just don't want to embarrass myself" you add, pouting slightly for good measure, praying to god that he can’t detect the underlying want for him and him only.
He watches you for a moment, seemingly contemplating his decision. And then his eyes narrow, because of course he knows. There's never been an instance where you succeeded in lying to this man. He always, always knows when something is off.
"Alright" he says, a slow smile spreading across his face, something mischievous sparkling in his eyes. "Dick sucking class is now in session"
You groan, your face twisting with visible disgust.
"Oh my god, that was terrible."
"What? It's true" he says with a shrug.
"That is- no, no way. Never say those words ever again. Ever." you say, pointing a finger at him accusingly.
"Or what?" he challenges, taking a step towards the bed.
You gulp and lick your lips.
"Or..."
He waits expectantly for a response. You have none, so you just shake your head and look away.
"Yeah, that's what I thought"
You glare at him and then sigh.
"You're a bully"
"Am I?” He asks, taking a step back to give you more room. “ 'Cause you're the one that asked me to teach ya. On your knees, kid. Let's see whatcha got."
You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress a grin. You don't know how he does it, but his ability to make a joke or a quip out of anything always has a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, even when the jokes are awful and the puns are terrible. Even when the joke is about you getting ready to suck his dick.
"You're a bully and a pervert" you say, sliding off the bed and sliding to your knees, the plush carpet doing a decent job at protecting your joints.
"And proud of it.”
"Pride is a sin."
"So is premarital sex, so I'll see you in hell, honey"
You snort and look up at him from your place on the floor, grinning widely.
"You're ridiculous"
"You love it"
And that's the thing, isn't it?
Because you do. You love his innate ability to make you laugh, to make you smile even when he's about to take your fucking virginity. He knows how to comfort you, how to put you at ease, when to push you with his teasing and when to pull back and let you take control. You've never met a person who has so effortlessly made their way into your heart.
And here you are, on your knees for him under the false pretense of practicing for a man who's name you can't even remember right now.
You shake your head, the motion clearing the thoughts and the emotions that were swirling in your head, the ones that make you want to stand up and kiss him, kiss him until your lips are numb and you're left gasping for air.
"Joel?" you say his name softly.
"Yeah, baby?"
"Teach me."
Part 2 is already in the works I promise hehehe thank you for reading I hope u all enjoy!!
#joel miller smut#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x you#joel miller one shot#joel miller fic#the last of us#tlou fic#joel miller#pedro pascal characters
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