#last of us x reader
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no one knows . 💌
dbf ! joel x fem! reader
cw : dumbification, a bit of overstimulation, slight degrading, heavy praise, age gap (Joels 40, readers 21 ) , daddy kink , slightly pentup joel, mentions of breeding, bit of jealousy talk of exhibition and sex with multiple of ppl. afab reader !! w she/her pronouns ..
there’s a slight mention of his arms being the size of your face and him holding you up while u.. welp! but fyi Joel is beefy and over 6’2 in this fanfic just for my own “personal” liking he is STRONG cause im a big girl myself don’t feel like you gotta size down for this! not at all. enjoy sweetheart ≧◡≦
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You were beautiful and finally wanted to visit home. College in California was amazing being originally from Dallas, Texas loving the beaches and the social life back in Cali away from your Christian strict family who didn’t understand the point of being an adult is living your life not doing anything that other people wanted you to do but living how you wanted to.
everyone was trying to talk to you sliding smart remarks about you “developing and showing it” all giving you fake smiles as they “ adjusted” your shirt that was perfectly appropriate but had to have the church’s approval. You quickly make your way away from everyone and made the small walk about to your childhood home. You walked in taking a deep breath looking for your father making your way into the garage 
Honestly you were distracted , not by everyone calling and wanting to see you, not by people wondering how you grew into a women so fast and making you uncomfortable with the way they were adjusting. no you were distracted by the man working on the car before you in your fathers garage covered in car oil who surprised you 
Joel miller
You would never say that you were shy or even think after dealing with college boys that any man would make you feel nervous or even needy. But Joel managed to make you feel like a teen again he made you want his attention by doing small things like bending over and spilling water on your white shirt trying to make eye contact with him not winning as he locked eye contact with you.
you greeted your dad handing him the water he yelled for when you walked in, bending over to see the older man under the car who wanted anything to drink or snack on.
“s’okay darlin lemme finish this part up and I’ll take you on that offer” he answered grunting as he fixed up the small part he was screwing back into place his arms looked like the size of your face he put his strength into this small piece of the car
you felt like a perv as you watched his whole bodywork on this car sliding out looking around for his small towel to wipe anything that got onto his face in the way. you didn’t dress up not expecting him to wear an old volleyball jersey and some cherry-printed shorts with long white socks that you grabbed from your father's room
you suddenly felt underdressed and he looked at every detail of your outfit making you feel like changing into something he might like. As he finished up standing reminding you how he felt like he was towering over you as he reached to put the oil behind you not breaking eye contact.
your dad invited him over for the game wanting to drink beer and asked you if you wanted to join. You didn’t know anything about football or anything they talked about but you knew Joel would be there and agreed to watch the game with them.
Joel said he would head over to his place to freshen up cause he was covered in oil and sweat. you thought about putting something nicer but didn’t want to be obvious that you were trying to impress him you felt so desperate for this older man’s attention as he slip out of your home.
you decided to just breathe and clear your mind and relax clearing any impure thoughts in your mind before walking out into the living room again. You did put on a tad bit of perfume and some lip gloss staying in your room until you hear Joel’s trunk pull up again.
He let himself in and after twenty minutes you sat in between your father and Joel as the game went on. Your dad had about 3 beers at this time and wasn’t even staying awake for the game and started to fall asleep excusing himself for a “break” knowing he was going to knock out. Joel didn’t say much as he was focusing on the game as he stretched his arm on the armrest behind you closing in the space between the both of you.
“So. College?” Joel broke the silence making you perk up from looking at your thighs.
“College..” you mumbled not knowing where he was going with that but happy to talk to him.
“Any new things you can’t share with your father” he joked with a visible smirk growing
you playfully pushed his arm “wouldn’t you like to know” you replied
“so not the good girl I know anymore? shoulda known” now that got a reaction out of you due to the nickname you sure did enjoy.
“I haven’t been for a while mr. miller” you whispered as you put you head back on the couch. he looked at you clearly not focused on the game anymore
“speak up honey didn’t quite hear you.” he said not letting you break eye contact with him while he took in all of your reactions.
“I'm not a good girl anymore Mr. miller” you said loud enough for him to hear you not wanting to be quiet this time. The look he was giving you wasn’t clear you couldn’t tell if he was upset or turned on by whatever you were saying but you didn’t want to stop.
he just kept looking at you. You wanted to beg him to say something looking at you like he wanted something from you but didn’t want to say it. Like he was scared of doing something like if he wouldn’t be able to stop himself but that was you just hoping
“gotta watch that mouth sunshine or you're gonna give me the wrong idea” he said as he arm left from behind you rubbing his eyebrows
“what? you scared sir?” that got his attention as he shot his eyes at you. “it’s almost like you lost that touch I would hear you and my dad talking about I wanna see what the fuss is about”
“geez you are gonna kill me sugar” he laughed to you as he adjusted his pants “I have no clue what your talking about. I ain’t lost my touch”
you took a swing of the left over beer you had on the table scooting your hips a bit closer to him
“Maybe those college boys just don’t know what they're doing” You paused looking at him, while he watched you waiting for the rest of your sentence “They don’t know how to make me feel good Joel, or is that just all men?” You whispered in his ear as you could see his pants getting a bit tight again giving you a confidence boost.
You excepted another shut down or him telling you to watch your mouth but you felt his hands pulling you by your hips and the other pulling you by your face his lips tasting like candy and beer mixing the fruit flavors you had placed on the table
“Ain’t you a dirty girl” is all he said as you moaned against his lips looking for some relief while your body ached to be touched by the older man in front of you. You were now sitting in his lap as you rode his thigh as he kissed your neck and collarbone. You didn’t know how or why it took so little for him to touch you but you didn’t care.
He held your thighs in place laughing at how needy you were for him he stopped kissing you and just was taking a good look at you sighing
‘m suppose to be watching the game” he said while rubbing your thighs clearly hard underneath you. “we shouldn’t do this darlin” he whispered
“but you want to” you answered grinding yourself on him as he grunted gripping your thighs a bit tighter. He kissed your arm a bit more and told you for your good he would be heading home.
“joel-.” He cut you off with a kiss then a kiss on the forehead telling you to head to bed.
You couldn’t believe you got womanly blue balled and knew you had to keep getting back at him.
you walked him out with a clearly frustrated look making him laugh at you again. As he said his goodbyes telling you to rest easy.
you weren’t gonna make this easy for him
two days later . 💌
You greeted the small group of ppl your father had invited over getting water from the fridge happy that your dad had gave up on making you change your outfits since 10th grade.
you wore that shirt on purpose. you were teasing him. he sat with a hard-on while you served everyone drinks with that cute white sheer t-shirt with a cute red lace push-up sticking out while your cute miniskirt struggled to stay covering your ass as you bounced around the kitchen you’d purposely bend over a little farther every time you gave a drink to someone in front of him spreading your legs fat enough for him to see what he wanted but for so short of time.
“excuse me Joel” you giggled as you gave him a clear view of under your skirt in front of all your father's friends “passing” by him to sit inside on the couch.
the men started asking you the same questions, about the school, and my plans for afterward you would feel Joel’s eyes on you as you shamelessly flirted with the older men at the table
you pulled out your phone texting the number you stole from your dads phone excusing yourself to the bathroom
“hi there mr.miller” you texted waiting for a reply as you watched him look at his phone from the bathroom window.
he smirked a bit before replying “Get out of the bathroom” You giggled as you reached to take a picture of the wet mark growing in your underwear under your mini skirt pulling your underwear to the side a bit showing a little more for him. you sent the picture then looked out the window to see his reaction
he spit on his drink and quickly excused himself from the table making you laugh as you exited the bathroom looking at your phone to see you were still on read. you giggled as you walked not watching where you were going feeling an arm pulling you back to the bathroom you had just left
“Are you batshit? right in front of your father? aint you a dirty bitch did you want them all to see” he was so angry you could see his muscles flexing all of his insults went straight to your underwear and you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter for him as he pushed you against the bathroom door locking it behind you
“getting so worked up over a picture geez how long as it been” you joked throwing coal in the fire as you watched for his reaction
“Such a dirty mouth. s’okay you just need a man to fuck it shut. on your knees” You crossed your arms acting as if you wanted nothing more than his cock bruising your throat
“don’t fucking make me make you” You giggled at him as you went down slowly feeling him force you down faster sliding his sweats down sliding his boxers down next. he was so big and heavy it’s not like you didn’t guess he would be but seeing it up close scared you a bit. he told you to open up so you did way quicker than you probably should’ve giving you no time as he started to tease you before giving you one last breath and stuffing your throat
He was laughing at all the noises you made and the way you pulled on his sweats and squeezed his thighs you could take it you knew you could but you didn’t know he would make you take it so fast
“‘m gonna cum faster then i wanted to fucking tight throat ” you hummed on his cock as he gave you no mercy letting out curses and groans he pulled your head back and started to jerk off right above your face groaning as you looked him right in the eyes
“silly girl you just wanted attention aint that right” he joked as he slapped himself on your cheek grabbing your head once again and slamming himself right back into your throat
“fucking showing off in front of everyone. you want them to fuck you too? all of us fuckin you dumb” you shook your head as he pulled out of you to let you talk
“no no i want you” you mumbled while taking deep breaths as you watched him jerk off in front of you again.
“I know sugar I know cause i wouldn let anyone fuck what’s mine,” he said as you finally make your throat feel full again. He started to shake and grip your head harder as he let out more praises for you
“fuckin take it fuck me” he whispers as he paints the inside of your throat with his cum making sure you shallow and don’t waste a drop of him. As he finally comes back to his senses he starts to kiss your forehead as you hear your father calling out to you for being gone for a while
you try to call back even with the sore throat saying you would be right there. Looking at Joel who looked more relaxed shooting him air kisses and you walked out of the bathroom.
a few days later 🥀
you missed Joel texting him once and a while teasing him with pictures getting a call right away. You had the house to yourself as you walked around in pretty underwear and a small top you had since the junior year you jumped when you seen a man inside your sink you noticed right away it was the man you had been cumming to for the last few nights.
you cleared your throat making him aware of you and seeing him peak out while looking you up and down as he kept working
“ain’t you up early” he grumbled and he sounded like he finished up whatever he was working up sitting up and starting to clean and wash his hands in the sink
you just looked at him as he washed his hands and nails being such a clean man. you suddenly felt needy for him again realizing he hasn’t even touched you and you’ve had his cock in your mouth
you started to rub on his arm making him look at you real quick then looking around
“what time do you think your dad will be back” he asked
“around 9 pm it’s only 10 am right now,” you said giving him a nice view of the cute underwear you threw on he chuckled at you and bit your shoulder gently and kissed up slowly. you wiggled under him wanting more as you started to hold yourself in place bending you over the kitchen counter. he slowly took off your underwear dropping to his knees and letting out a beautiful sound while he looked at your bare cunt already wet for him he slowly kiss around your thighs and made his way slowly to your aching core not knowing when or how he was going to touch you
you felt him kiss your clit making you moan softly as he opened you up slowly he was focusing hard on your clit and it was driving you over the edge already. You had wanted him so bad and now you had him and you could feel yourself losing it quickly he brought his hand up along your leg squeezing gently finally bringing his long fingers up to your begging body
his thick fingers stretched you out nice as you squeezed around him leaning on the kitchen sink you couldn’t breathe and didn’t know how you were so close to just his fingers and mouth.
“I ain’t the stupid boys you fuck around with dumb girl,” he said gripping your face and making you look at him as he used his mouth to play with your desperate clit. “s’okay gonna fuck that cunt straight baby girl so desperate for a breeding” That drove you over the edge as he touched everywhere you needed
“m sorry Daddy” You had never called anyone that before never feeling like it never fit with the boys the same age as you seeing as they never did this much foreplay with you.
He kept his eyes on you as he smirked at the name you had slipped out. he forced you to look at him not that you wanted to look at anything else. you repeated the nickname slower while you clenched around his fingers.
“aint that fucking pathetic. you want me that bad?” you nodded quickly as he was laughing at how shameless you were being for him. “such a stupid girl”
you could feel yourself getting closer as he continued to lick your sensitive clit while fingering you as the wet sounds grew and grew
“m gonna- can i?” you felt yourself asking if you could cum for him knowing you would even if he said no way to close to stop yourself now
“cum for you ‘daddy’ darlin” You allowed yourself to cum while slightly mocking you keeping the same pace which you were happy for not even begging to argue with him mocking you as it turned you on even more. He didn’t stop after you came holding you in place as you shook in his mouth feeling tears touch your cheeks taking all of him and he enjoyed your reaction. you couldn’t take it anymore gripping his hair crying out for him as you started to cum again so quickly
It took you so long to stop shaking on his fingers before he pulled your arm walked you to your bedroom and pushed you onto your bed you legs were shaking as you still felt sensitive from the overstimulation in the kitchen. You could hear his belt buckle coming off and felt his hands touching you all over again as he stretched your pussy wider lining himself up against your wet hole you couldn’t help but shake underneath him looking at how big he was again
“is it gonna fit?” you asked shaky looking back at him
“we’ll make it fit” he mumbles as he slides himself slowly into you getting a groan and whimper from the both of you as he filled you up so beautifully you gripped the sheets mumbling about how big he was you could feel your legs go numb as he slowed pressed into you.
“aint even all of me baby” he laughed as he pressed farther into you filling you up in a way you had never felt before. He was finally stopping for a second giving you a bit of time to adjust to him.
“Please move Joel i-I need it” you finally said as you got needy from the cockwarming it only took a second more of begging before Joel was slowly taking you. You keep squeezing hoping he would go faster
“behave” was all he said as he spanked you, you let out a long whine wanting him more than anything knowing you could take it
“m a big girl I can ta-take it” is all you said before you felt your arms being pulled back as he started to slam himself into you. You couldn’t breathe anymore as moans and cries were slipping out of you
the older man was letting out cuss words and beautiful praises as he fucked you senseless
“fucking mine you ain’t ever fucking those boys ever again baby girl.” Joel could feel himself becoming drunk off of you as he put his arm under your neck pushing your body onto his as he kept fucking himself into you.
you could barely think as he fucked parts of you he was filling you up so good as you lost your thoughts and could only think about Joel and how good you were feeling
“please Joel I can feel you so deep please please Joel” you kept repeating as you got closer and closer again he kissed your neck noticing you slipping under him he pulled out making you cry at the loss of him flipping you over so your legs rested on his shoulders and he could look at you while he fucked himself into you.
“That’s a good girl. you alright sweetheart” he lightly slapped your cheek getting your attention and making sure you weren’t too lost to tell him you needed a break and this was the only time he could feel himself able to stop
“m ok.. please,” you said as you rocked your hips into him needing to feel him deep inside you again. Seeing you so drunk off of him brought him over the edge he could feel himself getting there as he brought his fingers to touch your aching clit and brought you there with him as he slowly thrust into you kissing you gently making you lose yourself again.
“feel so good. sweetheart you feel so good” he whimpered out making you squeeze around him kissing him sloppy as his fingers touched right where you needed them. you grabbed onto his arm lazily trying to make him aware but he could feel it and hear how breathless you were getting he could hear how sloppy you sounded for him again unable to stop himself he kept going until you were there
“you fucking my cock so good. good job sugar” he talking you through it praising you as you bounced up and down on him.
“Where do you want me,” he asked praying you said inside he didn’t want to cum anywhere else he just wanted to watch himself leak out of your claiming your pussy as his.
“in- inside in please I want it so bad please ” you didn’t even recognize yourself as you begged still sensitive and shaking.
“I got you Darlin Jesus I’m gonna breed this pussy sugar” he mumbled as he let out a long groan as he pushed your legs back stuffing himself into you as he fill you up warm. he still kept kissing the side of your neck as he let out beautiful songs as you lightly squeezed around him not wanting to waste anything.
you both sat there with his head in your neck and your arms around him. he didn’t move for a bit as you started to recollect yourself gathering everything squeezing his neck and smelling his hair . he pulled himself out slowly earning a moan at the loss. he left for a second leaving you a bit lonely coming back with water, a wet washrag, and baby wipes from the bathroom.
“you gotta go pee, sweetheart” he reminded you as he cleaned you off gently kissing every part he cleaned putting the water bottle in your hand
“please don’t leave while i pee” you said using him to stand up limping to the bathroom
“wouldn’t dream of it darling” as you came back from the bathroom and the rubbed all over you making sure you were comfortable and that you didn’t regret anything he was so gentle and you didn’t want to be anywhere else. you had time before your father came back and just wanted to relax with Joel.
authors note! 📩
HIII THIS IS KINDA LONG DID U GUYS LIKE ITTTT PLZ LMKK IF U DID i havent wrote in so long and this isn’t even proof read wtf but yeah okay thank you so much for reading sorry the aftercare part kinda sucked I suck at that. plz Lmk if u guys want anything else okay bye bye love you!
#Spotify#joel miller x f!reader#joel x reader#dbf!joel#dbf!joel x reader#last of us joel#the last of us#joel the last of us#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x reader#joel miller#dbf! joel x fem!reader#joel tlou#fanfic#fanficiton#last of us x reader#x reader#joel miller one shot#joel miller smut#oneshot#joel miller x poc!reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x plus size reader#joel miller x wife!reader
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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: joel miller x male reader
ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: how a crush looks like when it's mutual between two old men
ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1234 (𓁹◡𓁹)
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: middle school crush type cliche's, suggested makeout session
ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: reader and joel are around the same age, and reader has a collection of records, he also has a beard. written from Ellie's pov. (its unsettling to see pics of joel smiling bc HES NEVER FCKN HAPPY)
☾⋆☆⋆☽
It's silly to see old men acting nervous, especially with Joel around. He's never really nervous, or at least he doesn't show it. What was it, something about life lessons?
Being as old as they are, knees givin' way, calloused hands, joints ain't like they used to be; you've experienced it all. You've experienced that shame of not knowing the answer in math class, tripping over your own feet or misjudging just how slippery freshly mopped floor is; missing a shot, getting nailed in the face by the stock of your own gun, and getting ambushed by a group of clickers. Most of all, you've experienced many rejections.
And yet...it still seems like you're afraid?
That's what Ellie sees, anyway, with the way you look at each other. You're both smiling, it's sweet, sickeningly so, because you're looking down at your own feet and not even seeing those smiles you're sending each other.
"I, uh, 'ppreciate it. Truly." Joel speaks up first, his eyes flitting up from the fresh cup of warm coffee in his hand to your face. Those eyes stay, with courage, on your face, and maybe he doesn't notice that you're not looking up at him because he's admiring you.
"It's, um," Your smile widens, you shake your head, shrug your shoulders lightly like, "it's nothing."
"No, really." Joel puts the cup down. It makes a loud sound in the cricket-silence, thick awkwardness in the room, and it finally brings your eyes up to his. "This-this stuff is real hard to get your hands on 'round here, 'cuz..." He pauses, suddenly self aware of his ramblin'. "well, I'm sure you know why."
You open your mouth, gape for a moment as the words just on your tongue are suddenly replaced by a conscious mind, "Yeah, I know."
Joel picks his cup back up, but he doesn't take a sip. Instead he takes it in both hands, inducing more sweat to slick up his hand for more than one reason now, "How-how'd you get this stuff, anyway?"
"Traded it."
Obviously. Ellie rolls her eyes, How else does one get stuff around here? It dawns on her the second after that killing is the other way.
"What for?" Joel follows up, thumbing at the top edge of the cup, dangerously close to slipping his finger into the dark, scaldingly hot liquid.
There's humor, finally, from your end that eases a bit of the tension. "You do not wanna know."
"I do!" Joel's quick to object, he stands up a little straighter, his smile widens a little more, "I want to know what I owe you." He says it in a way that enunciates each word correctly, like he was serious, and yet the smile on his face is clearly turning his tone rather playful.
"I, well..." You scratch the hairs of your beard, looking away from his eyes nervously, out the kitchen doorway, out the window to the snowing outside. It's clear your intensions teeter on a yes or a no, to tell him or to not, but you stand on what you've previously said, so as to not cause you the trouble of admitting the truth.
Joel places his coffee down again, except it doesn't bring your eyes to his. He scoffs and crosses his arms, shifting his stance in a way that brings him a tiny bit closer to you, and yet he still looks like the standoffish asshole Ellie likes to joke he is. "It can't be that bad."
"It, it is, that bad." You admit on an impulsive thought, which only further feeds his curiosity.
Joel tries at a guess. "What, a gun?"
"Worse."
"Two guns?" He tries again, although on the same object, because to this old man, Ellie thinks, nothing is worse than the slight increase of the possibility that his world's in danger.
"I–" You're teetering, there, again, and Ellie makes a game of guessing what you'll decide. It's a yes this time 'round, she can see it in the way you're beginning to close your eyes, to wince, to prepare for his disappointment. "A record."
"What?!" Joel explodes, almost immediately, because he knows you love those things, that you collect them. You'd give up such a priceless piece of your collection just to give him something he'll consume, something so momentary that it's almost entirely—no, it is not worth it.
"It's–" You open your eyes again, to look at him, moving your hands frantically to ease him. "It's fine, really, a small thing, I barely listen to it."
"You have your records on a cycle, damnit! You put them on a cycle so that you can listen to all of them an equal amount, so nothing goes unappreciated!" It's something so particular, so unnoticeable, that even Ellie didn't know that.
"Joel–"
It's petty, frustratingly so to the spectator, Ellie. It's just a record, and coffee is just coffee; but she's barely sixteen, and she doesn't know the emotional attachments to these things the two of you do.
She doesn't know the bliss Joel finds in coffee, but you do; and she doesn't know the escape that those damn music records are to you, but Joel does.
"I'm sorry." Joel opens his eyes, stops pinching the bridge of his nose. It's an immediate deflation of emotions that Ellie would've liked to laugh at. "That's, a record. It's a lot to you."
"It is," You agree, not downplaying it anymore. Or, well, "it's just–" some low quality band, he stops you with a pointed look.
You look at him, eyes at full attention, accepting defeat and yet the way your eyes...Ellie can see admiration. "You do." And when you say it, it's not in a self-righteous way, but a simple fact.
"I owe you." He says, with finality; he won't take no for an answer.
You stare at each other, just a couple of seconds, no words, nothing about the fact you're starin' at each other, just unspoken, yet still visible appreciation in the look you share.
You two were and are just so caught up with each other that you'd forgotten she was even there at all. She must admit, it's very sweet, but she likes her foods more savory.
"You guys are pathetic." Ellie finally speaks up, a look of evident. played disgust on her face.
There's a snap and a jump and now you're about two feet away from each other again. You're looking away from each other, Joel's eyes are on the floor, yours are to the roof, and it's just so hilarious; and finally, finally, Ellie gets to laugh.
☾⋆☆⋆☽
Joel and him are talking again. It's too sweet, the way they avoid looking at each other, well, actually, they can actually keep eye contact now. At least for a couple minutes, anyway. He touches his beard when Joel makes him nervous, and Joel fingers at his jacket like he's pulling a trigger. What are these two, twelve?
—
Maybe they're not just talking now. I saw Joel checking him out, totally indecent behavior you definitely do not want to see from your so-called father figure.
—
I think they just came back from making out. OK. Yeah. They did. It looks like his beard has lost a patch. Figuratively speaking, of course. Joel's hair is messy and his jacket's buttons are all wrong. Gross.
—
Maybe I've warmed up to sweets.
#🤬 // swearshirt#joel miller x reader#joel miller x male reader#joel x male reader#joel x reader#last of us x reader#last of us x male reader#🌸 // success!#💞 // darlings
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Little Softie
Imagine:
Being Tommy's friend that he found and saved now your just tagging along with them slowly easing your way into their hearts some faster then others, Joel still on edge from the loss he'd suffered but every night you'd spend time with him slowly gaining his trust and his heart.
"Shit I hate that you've done this to me, making me fall in love with you after everything I've lost, I don't think I can lose someone else, I can't lose you"
#series x reader#fanfic series#series#last of us#last of us imagine#last of us x reader#last of us fluff#last of us x reader fluff#last of us fluff imagine#joel miller#Joel miller x reader#joel miller imagine#joel miller x reader#joel miller fluff imagine#joel miller x reader fluff
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BEING JOEL’S SURVIVING CHILD AND AN OLDLER SIBLING TO ELLIE PART 1:
CW: Normal Last of Us Swearing/Violence; mention of suicidal thoughts
Sarah and you were best friends. Being twins did that to you.
You were in sync with each other, and you would team up to freak your dad out all the time.
“You’re just jealous you don’t have a twin, dad!” You would say to him when he asked you to stop.
Whatever you wrote, she always hyped it up. She was proud of her twin.
You both stayed up to celebrate your dads birthday.
You both got the money for the watch.
When the apocalypse starts, Sarah goes in front. She’s the fighter, you’re not.
“Dad?” You ask you father when you leave to the car.
“We’ll be ok, baby. I promise.”
You see, but Sarah isn’t so lucky.
There’s a shift in you after that. You fall into a pit.
You’re a fighter, a brutal one.
Your dad and you almost lose yourselves.
Tommy’s heart breaks as he sees how far you’ve gone because of the pain.
He leaves for the firefly’s but offers for you to go with him.
There’s a spark of your humanity when he asks, but you decline. He leaves things off better with you then Joel.
This humanity sometimes appears in the small stories you write.
Joel doesn’t like taking you on jobs, but your size is an advantage.
Tess cares for you like one of her own. Constantly calls you “what we’re fighting for and still keeping ourselves around for.”
It doesn’t make you feel as special as she intends, but it’s a nice gesture if nothing else.
She too tries to encourage your writing. She tries to find material for you. Sometimes Joel does too.
On one run, you meet a girl. A spirited girl named Ellie.
You don’t exactly get along like a house on fire, but you also aren’t cold to her either.
She’s someone you’re taking as cargo, sure. But she’s human.
“He always like this?” She asks you, referencing your dad.
“Most of the time, yeah.” You answer.
“Great.”
You get used to it,” you assure.
Her face doesn’t hold a smile, but she’s grateful internally for your assurance, and just for making conversation with her.
When you get to your hideout, your dad sleeps. Leaving you and Ellie awake.
“So, what is there to do?”
“I normally sit here, watching people.”
“...Can I join?”
“Sure,” you move to make space for her. She notes how you have a little pad and pencil, along with how you curl into yourself; you seem more natural, more relaxed.
“So, now what?”
“Now, I normally just watch people as they go. Sometimes write some ideas in here,” at ‘here’ you gesture to your notepad.
“About them?” she points outside.
You start to shake your head, then pause and look up, “sometimes. Most of the time, just ideas for stories. Sometimes I try and give them backstories.”
“Have you ever read Savage Starlight?”
“When I was younger, sure. Used to write my own little fics about them.”
She chuckles, though in interest, “that’s pretty cool.”
There’s a ghost of a smile on your face, “didn’t think so at the time. But, yeah, they were. One time, Sarah and I made up our own characters,” you don’t even clock the name drop of your dead sister, too clouded with the happiness of the memory, “just, acted out scenes for hours.”
“Sounds like fun,” her voice softens; she knows about Sarah, but she doesn’t say that. She’s lost people too after all.
“Yeah,” you say, “yeah, it was.”
She smiles a bit. She hasn’t had a friend in a longtime. Not since Riley. Though, the feelings for her ran in a different way. She doesn’t want to have you in the way she had a crush on her best friend. She just wants a friend.
You see her infection, and become guarded. But you see the conviction on her face when she says to you about being immune.
Hope is something you rarely let yourself feel, but you did in this moment. Maybe all the pain would be worth something if you could do this. Redemption could be yours.
Joel notices a push and pull with you. You’ll find yourself talking to Ellie, bonding with her, only to then pull away or stop yourself. You’re protective of her too, putting yourself in front of her when in danger. Though, she saves you too, killing zombies that have grabbed you or warning you about on coming ones.
For the first time in a while, Joel sees you smile when she brushes off Joel’s advice and crosses over the beam.
Then…then Tess dies. Both can tell it hurts you. It’s why Joel bans it from conversation.
“I’m sorry,” Ellie says to you, then goes by Joel’s rule.
When walking to Bill’s, she walks near you. She doesn’t say anything, but she hopes her presence can mean something.
Part of it does make her feel a bit safer, and makes the loss of Riley more easy; someone is nearby to just silently say “I’m here”
You give her a small smile in one moment of silence. She returns it, but she sees you’re thankful, not fully being alone with it all.
She just nods, she’s glad it’s helping and that you’re here too silently doing the same thing for her.
When she plays with the fireflies, there’s a smile on your face at her innocence in that moment. Even you have to admit, there’s a beauty to them and this world, despite everything.
Joel’s smile softens a bit when he looks at you. He knows Ellie is filling that void that losing Sarah left for you as well. He can see, with the way you then clear your throat and turn around, that it’s scaring you as much as it is him.
You both made a silent vow to never discuss it, but now that wound is being ripped open, the more you let Ellie in.
Joel knows Bill better than you, but you still warn Ellie about how the man can be.
When Ellie tells you both about the game, you don’t correct her on the (admittedly) small moments of incorrect information. She looks at you with glee, then asking you about it. About the other characters. And you’re honest with what you can remember. Twenty years of survival made you forget a lot of your old life.
You both work together, and it’s the first time the three of you have some (albeit slightly chaotic giving everything going on in the situation) level of synchronization. Ellie throwing you both ammo (she never actually pestered you for a gun, which you’re thankful for), Joel covering you; you giving Ellie a boost up, covering her as best you could, her giving you both warnings. It works.
You chuckle at her comments to Bill. You can see your father finds humour in them too, even if he won’t let himself show it.
When it comes to the bloater, Joel makes sure you get up there as well. Just in case.
With Frank, you find the note and give it to your dad.
“Jesus. Alright, thanks, kid.”
You leave it to him to decide what to do with it.
Despite her assurance that she knows how to pop a clutch, she does ask you in a whisper which one that is. You point if out for her.
“Actually. Y/N, why don’t you get in the car with Ellie? You drive.”
“Oh, c’mon?! Seriously?!” Ellie protests, despite trusting you and all. She thought it would be cool.
“How about you cover us from in there?” You say, bringing out your pistol and handing it to her.
“Y/N, no. That - that ain’t exactly what I had in mind for —“ your dad begins to protest himself. Damn it, he’s gone back in time with how you used to be with Sarah. Rebellious.
“Oh, fuck yes!” Ellie says as she takes the pistol, “I fucking love this plan! Get in, partner!” You do so, and pop the clutch, though almost stall the fucking thing.
“It’s been a while,” you use as an excuse.
“Weren’t you like my age when the world went to shit?”
“…Fair point.”
“I did let them drive once after a run,” Joel says as himself and Bill get ready to push the car.
“Joel…Not. The. Fucking. Time.” He says.
Ellie is a decent shot to be fair. So that’s something, at least.
Still, you make it through the town, and say goodbye to your ‘uncle’ Bill. He just tells you to fuck off when he hears that. You flip him off, not seeing Ellie also join you in that.
You’re her friend, she’s gonna back you up however she can. That, and despite him getting you a car, guy was somewhat of a dick to her, so.
She shows you the magazine, you just laugh. Even harder when she reveals she was just fucking with Joel with her questions.
She moves up to the front after seeing you fall asleep. Joel even pulls over so they both can get you laying down.
“They’re a deep sleeper,” Ellie comments.
“Yeah. Yeah, they ain’t been able to for a long time.”
“Oh. Well, that’s good that they still can though, right?” She asks.
“It is,” it’s the softest Ellie’s heard him speak since she’s met you both. And you look the softest you have yet. Guard completely let down.
Before getting back in the car, she makes sure to put your pistol back in your backpack.
They’re quiet with the music as they drive. It lulls Ellie off to sleep.
When the ambush happens, you wake up at the last minute, meaning it’s a blur to you. It almost gets you killed. After Joel saves Ellie, he sees you almost knocked out. That same fatherly rage overtakes him, and he is brutal with his kill. Ellie, meanwhile, helps move you to some cover, giving you some alcohol and cloth to clean the wounds later. She doesn’t ask if you’re ok, knowing that your now bloodied face is enough of an answer.
As Joel looks for supplies, she helps you with your face.
“You ever have things like this happen when you were younger?” She asks, trying to distract you from the sting you feel.
“To be honest, not really. Sarah and I would sometimes take a fall, that was the extent of our injuries most of the time. Though once or twice we’d get in a fight at school.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Some arsehole or something. We’d hear it, the other wouldn’t, then we’d just see red.”
“Must’ve been nice, having someone watch your back like that.”
“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
“Well,” she says, pouring a bit more alcohol onto the cloth before dabbing it on your cut on your face, “for as long as we’re on this road trip together, I’ve got your back.”
“You have so far,” you say, and she smiles, “and I’ve got yours too. You’re a good kid. I, uh, I hope you can save the world with this immune thing.”
“It’d be good. I mean, most’ve the kids I knew were never that special in general. I never was in school,” you chuckle a bit - neither were you, “but this might mean something.”
“You want my advice?” She nods, putting the cloth and very little remaining alcohol away in her back pack, and handing you yours from the jeep as you stand up, “you’re already a good person, I’d say that’s special enough for a world like this. Just…try not to lose that, ok?”
The sincerity with your advice makes her nod genuinely, “I’ll do my best.”
“I know you will,” you ruffle her hair, “now, c’mon. Think dad might’ve gotten lost during our bonding time.”
She chuckles, but stays a bit behind you before following, she mules on your words. Of saying ‘dad’ and calling it ‘bonding’ time. In FEDRA, they always talked about them all being siblings, but most were just arseholes. But, you’re the first two people who have treated her like a person. Aside from Riley, but she knows how she felt about her isn’t how she feels about either of you - besides, the age difference is just a big no - but she cares about you both. And you’re more open of your care with her. Joel is more through action and small stories.
She follows, after that short moment of contemplation.
With Joel’s vague “I’ve been on both sides” she does lump you in with that as well. Not that she blames you, Joel is the only family you have left. So she gets why you haven’t left his side.
With the whistling, Joel at first thinks you taught it to her, but you say to him that it’s “all her.”
You do smile a bit at it, knowing she now has a trump card against your dad.
You had the puppy dog eyes, Ellie has the whistle.
You swear you hear you dad grumble under his breath about this same idea.
With the hotel, Joel is separated from you both. You just tell her to “stay close” and she does.
She’s panicking, but at least she isn’t alone.
You witness her killing the man who was fighting Joel. You can tell she’s shaken. You try to comfort her, but her anger at Joel makes her ignore it when she snaps at him.
Things are a bit cold for a moment as go through the rest of the hotel. But then he asks her to cover you both.
“How can I do that for both of you?” She asks, a bit worried of letting you guys down.
“We’ll be smart,” Joel assures as you check your ammo, “besides, if anyone’s gonna be caught, it’s gonna be me.”
“Why’s that?” She asks. Joel looks back at you for a moment, and leans closer to Ellie.
“Feeling my age,” he says. She smirks, but doesn’t say anything. She’ll keep that between them.
Joel jumps first, thanking her in his own way for saving him. After she says he’s welcome, she then looks to you, “I meant what I said,” she tells you.
“I know you did. You’ve got this,” you assure, before jumping down yourself.
“I’ve got this,” she says to herself softly, getting in position, “I’ve got this.”
She does. She really does.
You give her a nod when she’s smart with the pistol, pocketing it. You even share some of your ammo with her.
With Henry and Sam, Ellie notices you distancing yourself a little. You are, to be honest, but oddly it’s Henry who catches you out on it.
“Afraid you’ll lose your sister?” He says, as you all wait in his office to go on the night run.
“Guess it’s best to lose her to a friend than the whole permanent thing,” he notices how you: a) don’t correct him; and b) play with your fingers a bit. He nods, seemingly understanding why you’re being a bit distant now.
“I get what you mean,” he decides to say, “I haven’t seen Sam that happy in a while.”
You nod. Then move the conversation on. Which Henry understands.
You find yourself becoming friends with him quite easily. You both bond over your previous lives and the old world.
It seems to maybe be at an end when he ditches Joel, and Ellie joins you both. But he makes a valid point about him wanting his brother safe and how if the tables would be reversed, would it be the same outcome? He came back, after all.
Being split up in the sewers, Ellie is scared truly for the first time, being away from you both at the same time.
She hears gunshots and just hopes it’s both of you. She lets out a massive sigh of relief when she sees that it is, “thank god,” she says.
As you continue your journey, Ellie sees more of this nostalgic side to you; pointing things out for them that they don’t understand, but you, Joel, and Henry, do.
She finds it odd, and feels a bit left out, but there is a life to your eyes as you laugh about whatever the newest nostalgia object or idea was.
“Hey,” she says to you as you both search a house, “we’re ok, right?”
“Yeah,” you say instantly, “course.”
“Ok, good. That’s good.”
“You’re allowed to have friends, Ellie.”
“I know. I know…But, I’m not replacing you or anything —“
“Ellie,” you say, pausing from looking in a cupboard to look to her, “we’re good, I promise.”
“Ok,” she says, “seems you and Henry are tight.”
“Yeah,” you say, “yeah, he’s a good guy. Aside the whole abandoning thing.”
“He was good with me in the sewers,” she says, “he;s a good guy.”
“He is,” you affirm both her and your previous words.
“Do you…like him? I won’t tell anyone.”
“Nah, he’s just a good guy. Besides, was never into any of that myself.”
“Oh. That’s cool.”
“Yep. What about you, you into any of the whole romantic thing?”
Her mouth opens, and the story of her and Riley almost comes out, but she doesn’t say that. Instead, she says, “not with Sam. Or his whole…thing.”
“Gender?” She nods, “Hm. Cool.”
She feels glad she told someone. It’s another one of those bonding moments. There’s more trust now.
Then Henry and Sam die. You’re just frozen. So is she. Joel goes to the youngest, trying to get Ellie out of her state first. It takes a moment, before she is. Then they both look to you. Your hands are shaking, and you’ve curled into a ball at the wall.
“Careful,” Joel says, “Actually, stay here,” she does, but her worried and tear filled eyes stay on you.
She can’t hear what he says to you, but it takes a moment for you to look at him. You then fall into his arms. He holds you as you cry.
You stand up with him, avoiding looking at the bodies of your dead friends as best you can, before you or go over to Ellie.
“Come on,” you say, voice quiet, and wobbly. She takes your hand, and notes how you keep holding it as you leave.
As you near Tommy’s dam, she sees that it’s hurt you. You clean yourself off in a more shallow part of the water. You’re quieter. Not dispondant, but in your own head more. Like with Tess, only this was a death you saw. Joel’s worried too, you haven’t been like this since Sarah. And that quietness lasted for a few years, then turned into anger. He doesn’t want to see you go through that again.
Every so often, when you’re too much in your head or about to miss something like a jump or whatever, she will either call out your name, or put a hand on your arm to bring you back to the present. She hates how you jump at it.
She brings up the toy burial thing with Joel when she knows you won’t hear it. Even though Joel dismisses it, he does give her a ‘thank you’ a bit further ahead.
You both meet Tommy again, and those feelings of being an outsider and abandonment come up again.
She guesses this is how you felt for a moment with Sam and her, though she doesn’t have someone to talk to this time about anything. Maria tries, but it’s not the same.
Joel goes off with Tommy, and you find yourself going to the stables. Maria takes Ellie for some food. You’re all separated.
In the stable, you allow yourself a moment of vulnerability. With one horse, it approaches you and nudges you. You cry, and it comforts you, nuzzling against you. It’s sweet, and you allow yourself to feel the toll of everything. To not hide it anymore.
Maria radios later whoever it is in the stables, asking for you.
Whoever it is, sends a girl, named Dina, to come get you. She’s nice. She reminds you of Ellie a bit. Empathetic.
She tells you where to go. Offers to take you, but you apologise for taking up her time and go find Ellie.
She sees your eyes being red from crying, but doesn’t ask about it. Maria follows that action.
When the attack comes, you’re on instinct mode. And that has protect within there somewhere. You’re brutal. Ellie’s never seen this side full on. It scares her a bit.
“Are you ok?” Joel asks, getting Ellie calm with her rant. She says she is, but then she looks to you in the corner, sat on the table, blood on parts of your face and jacket, and jeans…you’re not caked in it, but there are splatters of blood on pretty much all of you.
“Y/N…they. They protected me.”
Joel hates that this part has come out again, but he finds himself nodding with Ellie, “yeah,” he says, “can you give us a minute?” She nods, moving aside to let him go to you.
“Dad,” you say, instincts on high and your head shoots up to speak to him, “I had to. I had to keep her safe.”
He’s silent for a minute, trying to find the right words. It’s been a while since you’ve had talks like this, time to actually think about his answer, “I know. You did protect her. But, kid, look at you. I don’t want you to lose yourself to that. I don’t want you to…become who I was.”
“Am I a monster?”
“No, no. God no,” he’s quick and sure of that answer, “just…I think this has taken a toll on you more than it has me.”
You smile a small one, he mirrors it, “guess I’m feeling my age too, huh?”
He snorts, “yeah. I don’t think you’re there yet.”
He’s glad he’s done this. And while he knows leaving Ellie will be hard, he knows this is best. You’re both becoming too attached, and he doesn’t want you to go through that pain again.
To make it easier, Joel asks Maria to get you some fresh clothes and have a wash to try make this easier on himself too. She does so, meaning you have no idea Ellie ran away.
Maria’s gentle with you, not out of fear, but because you’re part of her family, and she sees how much this transfer of having Ellie in your life to not is gonna hurt you.
“Thank you,” she says after you’re dressed and leave the room, “for what you did. I’m sorry it came to that.”
“It’s nothing,” you say, waving it off, “thank you for the clothes and the shower. Haven’t had one like those in god knows how long.”
“Don’t know a good thing til it’s gone, huh?” She says.
“Definitely not,” you say, chuckling, before playing with your fingers a bit.
There’s a beat of silence between you both. Not awkward, just a moment of silence.
“You’re welcome to stay, you know,” she says, “you, Joel, and the kid,” she hates lying, but she’d rather spare you that pain, “there’s some empty houses we’ve got.”
You smile, and there’s a sparkle of life to your eyes. There’s hope.
“I’d like that,” you say.
She goes to say something else, when her radio goes off. It’s Tommy, he was wondering if you could come down to the stables, and that Joel and Ellie are wanting to get another horse for you to get where you want to go.
Internally, she’s relieved. Both for her husband not going, but also for that idea of a happy ending being alive still.
She doesn’t think she’s ever seen someone so hopeful for a happy ending. And, knowing about what Joel and you went through, or all least, what Tommy told her about you both, she doesn’t think there’s someone that deserves one more.
Joel and Ellie agree to keep their little fight a secret too, as they too see how happy you are to be together again as a trio.
Ellie rides on Joel’s horse, you ride your own.
You and your dad both try and explain (American) football to Ellie. God help her, she tries to understand it. To be honest, you barely got it yourself.
Still, this is the closest you three have been. And Joel is pretty happy too. You’ve almost reverted back to how you were, but in a more mature way if that makes sense? You’ve got back your hope and openness, just with this more mature mind now using them.
He even opens up about having Sarah and you pretty young. You never asked him about your mother, he was enough as far as you knew. But, he always said your mother loved you, whatever happened to her. So that was enough for you. Not that you and Sarah didn’t theorize.
While waiting for Joel to reappear to open the gate for you both, you mention that Sarah and her would’ve gotten along really well, and she hopes so. She then asks you about being twins, how it's a bit weird. But you explain to her how you and Sarah weren’t always on the same pages. You were different people, just had your own sibling dynamic. Being the same age, and either of you ever sure of who was the oldest by whoever many minutes, just meant you experienced things at the same time.
When Joel mentions the singing, even you beg him, reminding him of when he did for you and Sarah when younger, “You still remember that, kid?”
“Oh boy, do I. You were a real country singer.”
“I was not.”
“Was too.”
“Was not.”
“Was.
“Not.
“Not.”
“Was.”
“Ha! Got you.”
“Damn it,” Ellie chuckles at you both. Selfishly, she hopes you don’t find the firefly’s, and that she can stay with you. She’ll miss you both a ton.
Though, that wish soon turns into reality. And reality is a nightmare.
Joel gets injured. You both get him out, though barely.
Ellie panics, and you revert back to instinct mode. But this time it’s focused.
You find shelter together, and it’s Ellie this time who lets herself be more open, “what do we do?” She asks, voice trembling a bit in both fear and the coldness. It’s winter.
“I don’t know,” you say, voice neutral.
“You don’t know?”
“You want me to say something else?”
“I want for you to have a plan!”
“Well I don’t fucking have one!”
“Then fucking think of one!”
“Like what?!” She shrinks back a small amount, but still holds your gaze, “Hm?! What do you want me to tell you, Ellie? There’s nothing around here! This whole fucking place has been raided! Maybe we’ll get lucky in our next place. A mall, or something. But, right here? Right here, we have nothing!”
You two don’t talk as you move onto a mall.
“Stay here, I’ll go see if there’s anything,” you say to Ellie, getting your pack ready.
“I’ll go,” she says.
“We can’t both go.”
“Then I’ll go.”
“That’s suicide.”
“I can take care of myself, Y/N,” she says, then grabs your hands in hers, “you use your size to your advantage, I can use mine. You’ve taught me a lot. I can do this. Just, trust me, please?”
You don’t like the idea of this. You’re the older one, you’re the one who is meant to do this. But, you also see how Ellie is pleading. You didn’t even think you taught her a lot, but she’s earnest with her words.
You find yourself nodding; and with her assurance that she’ll be “back in a flash,” she’s gone.
She’s not. It’s a bit longer than that. But she stands corrected that she can take care of herself. She even helps you fend off the hunters that had come looking for you.
She’s determined to keep your father alive. You both work on keeping him that way.
You hand her some alcohol before she does the needle work, “to help keep your hands steady.”
She takes it, it doesn’t taste great, but it does the trick.
You find yourself in a town, hiding in the garage part of a house.
You both communicate through things other than words at this point. You both snuggle close to your dad to share body heat. When one goes on a hunt, the other gives a nod of good luck, sometimes a hug.
One time she takes longer than usual, tells you that she met someone else who gave her some medicine. But that they were “fucking creepy.”
Those creeps come by the next day. You’re awake before Ellie this time. Your rushed moment and knocking something over wakes her up, and she’s alert quickly.
“Stay here, I’ll lead them away.”
“That’s stupid!” She tells you, “You’ll die.”
“Only if they catch me. Look,” you say, crouching down and putting your hands on her shoulders, “I’ll be right back, ok?”
“We both will be,” she says, looking to Joel, “you just don’t die, alright? You motherfucker,” she says to him, before getting up.
“You go one way, I’ll go the other?” She nods at the plan, and you both ride out, before splitting up.
You’re both caught, but David tells her you died. When she rips off his finger, she makes sure it hurts to avenge you.
She gets out, and just mutters to herself, “please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead,” as she tries to make her way back to Joel.
She can’t lose anyone else.
She finds a cell, one with a fresh dead member of David’s crew, “that’s what you get, you sick fucks,” she says to herself. Proud. It means you’re alive.
She gets caught again, and finds herself truly terrified for the first time in a while. She knew people could be cruel in this world, but not like this. Not like David.
When she kills David, she lets it all out. All that anger. All that pain.
Joel finds her, and she’s still in fighting instinct, but calms when she sees it’s Joel.
She breaks down in her father’s arms.
She then remembers you, and pulls away, and only croaks out the start of your name before Joel shushes her.
“We’ll find them, baby girl, we’ll find them.”
It doesn’t take long.
They find you wandering out on your own.
Joel calls out your name, and you spin around with a revolver in your hand. You look dazed.
But you blink a few times, and your father and sister don’t disappear.
You barrel into them, and the three of you just hold each other.
Joel kisses you both on the head, before you then do the same to Ellie.
“Oh, Ellie,” you say, crouching down. You put your hands on her face, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” She feels warm in the hug. Safe. Protected.
This is what family is like, she knows it’s true.
It’s people who put their life on the line for each other. And care about each other deeply.
As a family, you leave that horrible town, and onto your final stretch of your journey.
This time, it’s you who pulls Ellie out of her head. Sometimes you call out her name, sometimes you put a hand on her shoulder. Or sometimes, when trying to have banter with her, you ruffle her hair a bit.
She always gives you a small smile, but it doesn’t fool you.
But you also know if you push it, it may push her overboard.
So you just keep near, making sure she eats, and sleeps well.
Most nights, she goes to sleep with you having a protective arm around her, or running your fingers through her hair to calm her down.
You even try and do her hair at one point, it doesn’t go well, but she does give you a ‘thank you’ for the effort.
“Don’t leave,” she says one night, while falling asleep. Joel is long gone for the night, it’s just you both.
“We won’t.”
“But you will, one day.”
“One day, yeah. But that won’t be for a long, long time,” you assure your little sister.
“How do you know?”
“Because, even when I tried to die, it didn’t work.”
“…What?”
“A bit after Sarah. Dad stopped me. It’s what made the mark on my forehead. I missed.”
“I’m glad you did.”
You smile, “yeah, I’m glad I did too.”
She falls asleep, glad to have met you people. Glad to have found a family.
When she almost drowns, you and Joel are panicking. No one is in control of the sitatuion. Your only thoughts are Ellie and making sure she doesn’t die.
You wake up in the hospital. Marlene visits you, and tells you the story she told Joel. But then, over the radio, you hear about Joel breaking out, and Marlene takes you with her, as “collateral,” she says. She does give you an “I’m sorry, kid” but it doesn’t mean anything.
When Joel gets out the elevator, Marlene has a gun to your head and you on your knees.
“This is your kid, Joel. Ellie won’t feeling anything, I promise.”
Joel pauses, and you see him hesitate for a moment.
A gun goes off twice. One with it being held in the air, the other into Marlene’s stomach.
You keep it pointed at her, put Joel then comes back, and holds out his hand, “go check on Ellie.” He knows what the darkness can do to you.
You nod, going to the car and putting her head on your lap.
She wakes up to you, and you smile down at her.
When Joel tells the lie, she looks at you, searching for any sign of bullshit. She does find some, but doesn’t say anything.
The three of yo arrive at Jackson, more alive than ever.
You give her a boost up to Joel when the log falls, then they both help you up. She jokes at you feeling your age one thirty-something when you put a hand to your back.
She then confides in your both about Riley. And swears you both to tell her that what you said was true.
You both do, and try to help her with her guilt over her friends’ deaths.
She knows your lying, but buries it. She knows she has also lied to you at being able to fully keep her innocence. But, that’s just part of growing up, she supposes.
She has you now. A support system. And she doesn’t like the lie. But you two have to each other and her sometimes on the journey, but your care for each other is real. So, she says the only thing she can think of to keep this bond going.
“Ok.”
#last of us x reader#last of us imagine#Ellie Williams x reader#Ellie Williams imagine#Platonic Imagine#Platonic Reader
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𝐀𝐔 + 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒
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𝐀𝐔'𝐬
⊳ enemies to lovers
⊳ zombie apocalypse
⊳ guardian angel
⊳ one bed scenario
⊳ vampire s/o
⊳ fantasy world
⊳ soulmates
⊳ world crossovers : character put into hogwarts, undercity, etc.
𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒
⊳ “what happened? who did this?”
⊳ “i’m not going to let anything hurt you.”
⊳ “i’m here if you need anything, yknow.”
⊳ “you’re safe with me.”
⊳ “just talk to me! stop shutting me out!”
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ i had a lot of fun doing these last time, so go crazy!
𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
#prompt list#darklcy prompt list#request#x reader#x reader fanfics#stranger things#stranger things x reader#arcane#arcane x reader#x reader prompts#au prompts#au prompt list#last of us#last of us x reader#the last of us#tlou 2#tlou x reader
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Last of us x reader chapter three - Let The Darkness Set Us Free part one
Summary: Y/N tries to manage throughout the months without Joel and Ellie but they start to spiral as well reverts back to their way of living and survival
Word Count: 2.8k
Song: Let The Darkness Set Us Free by Anna Waronker and Craig Wedren
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The first month was the hardest because you couldn't comprehend why Joel left you in Jackson and to be looked after by Tommy and Maria
Tommy and Maria did their best but you kept them at arm's length during the first month
You wouldn't leave the house unless to get fresh air, Tommy and Maria would take turns into delivering food to your house to keep you feed since you weren't going to theirs or the hall
The days started to get worse and worse, you were sleep deprived and waking up at an ungodly hour at different points of the day an night thinking Joel and Ellie have returned only to find out it was just the wind
but one night a thunderstorm decided to hit Jackson and Maria came to check up on you since you hadn't eaten any of the food that was left outside the door and to see if you'd spend the night at their house for comfort
But when She entered the household and noticed how eerily quiet it was "Y/N it's Maria I've come to see if you're okay and...." Maria thought she heard a noise upstairs
As she placed one foot on the staircase she didn't notice you were right behind her, suddenly she felt a breath on the back of her neck but when she turned around there was nothing there
Maria decided not to climb the stairs as she took her foot off the staircase and stood in the front room, she noticed something at the corner of her eye, a shadow like silhouette that was a shape of a person standing on the kitchen table
Maria stared in shock and panic, she was like a deer in headlights, she didn't know what to do but then there was a flash of light from outside shone through the window to show who was the silhouette on the table
Maria gasped like she was holding her breath and felt relieved that it was only you "Jesus Y/N you could have given me a heart attack"
Maria noticed you hadn't moved an inch but she did notice her mind screaming at her to run and get out of the house "C-come one Y/N get off the table you could hurt yourself"
you looked at Maria saying nothing but due to the darkness and the only source of light was coming through the kitchen window you had an emotionless face as you tilted your head to the right
You started to crouch down on the table placing one of your hands In front of you
Maria watched with bewilderment as she didn't know what was going to happen next but she noticed you had opened your mouth to speak but the sound that came out of your mouth was the sound of a clicker
Maria opened her own mouth to scream but nothing came out but suddenly something fell over right next to her as she turned her head to the noise
But when she turned back to look at the kitchen table you were gone but you were still somewhere in the house just lurking about watching Maria from the shadows
A clash of lighting shone through the windows again showing where you were, Maria locked eyes with you and noticed you were on the ground crouching down looking you were about to pounce
"Y/N what are you...." Maria didn't get to finish her sentence because you started to scurry towards her with speed and this caused Maria to scream so loud as she bolted upstairs as she looked behind before running into Ellie's room was you climbing the stairs on hands and feet while making clicker sounds
Maria made it into Ellie's room and pushed the chest of drawers to block the door so you wouldn't get in
There was silence for a couple of minutes until a loud thump could be heard against the door, the force made door and the chest of drawers to move slightly
Maria pushed back screaming then a clash of thunder hit but all Maria could hear was you scurrying away like something scared you
"MARIA WHERE ARE YOU" "TOMMY I'M IN ELLIE'S ROOM" there was couple of footsteps on the stairs until a knock was heard against the door
Maria moved the chest of drawers out of the way and opened the door to see Tommy standing and pulled him into a hug and broke down
"Tommy it's Y/N I-i don't know how but they're um" Maria gulped and to catch her breath "they’re infected"
Tommy looked at Maria while hugging her and gave a heavy sigh "no Maria they're not" "what do you mean they're not, they have to be why would those sounds of a clicker come out of their mouth" "that's because they do that"
Maria froze and looked up at Tommy to see if he was lying but he wasn't "what" "sigh, Y/N must have believed that you were a raider and was trying to scare you but luckily you managed to keep yourself safe"
"And how do you know any of this Tommy" "because they did it to me" Maria was stunned in hearing this
"Now come on Maria, we have to get you out of here" Tommy started to guide Maria out of the house as they descended the staircase
Tommy looked up and could see you peeking at them and making hushed clicker sounds
"Ok Y/N we're leaving now, I'll come and check up on you in the morning" Tommy and Maria left the house and went back to theirs
The moment they made it through the door of their household, Maria wanted answers "ok Tommy what the fuck do you mean Y/N has done that to you"
Tommy took a deep breath "okay, when I explained back in December that they had done unimaginable things to survive, that was one of them"
Tommy looked at Maria and decided to explain how his experience went down "so we knew Y/N back before the outbreak and during the outbreak but we lost each other and a couple years later when I was with Joel and Tess on our smuggling runs, it was getting dark and we had found an abandoned building but we didn't realise it occupied
So as Joel and Tess were sleeping, I took first watch and decided to explore the building, that's when I stumbled across Y/N in a dark room with little light, they were crouching on the ground like gollum and they were kind of dressed like a lost boy, I was so overjoyed that I found them but they didn't recognise me, so when I tried to get closer is when I heard the clicker sounds coming out of their mouth
I was stunned by what I was seeing and I didn't know how to react so I pointed my gun at them and that's when they pounced on me, making me fall over and I fired my gun blindly
Thankfully i didn't hit them but i remember them dragging me into the light to look at me, they sniffed me then placed their hands on my face, that's when I saw it, they realised who I was and they clung to me believing I was just a dream, it broke my heart seeing them like that" Tommy dipped his head forward as he breathed in and out
"and I think the worst thing about this situation now is they stopped doing that when they were with Joel and now Joel's gone an I believe their returning back to those times"
Maria cupped his cheeks and slowly moved his head to look at them "oh Tommy, don't you worry we'll get through this together"
the next month came in quick and you were slowly getting acclimated to Jackson, you still only left the house for certain things but nights were still bad
Also a rule was in place that no one enters your house at night only during the day and afternoon
So one morning you had woken up and there was this feeling that you couldn't figure out what was off, so you decided to get a shower then got into clean clothes but the feeling was still there
Until you heard ringing coming from downstairs, you slowly descended the staircase to look for the ringing that's when you found it
A telephone was ringing, you looked at it with confusion but you decided to pick it up anyway
"Hello, is someone there" "yes who is thi..." "oh my god you made it to Jackson" the voice on the other side sounded so familiar
"Um who is this", "it's alright Y/N, it's just been so long since you've heard my voice" "I'm sorry I'm trying to remember" there was silence for a split second
"Maybe this will help, you have to protect Joel and Ellie at any cost" you gasped as your breath became hitched and tears started to form in your eyes "Tess, I've missed you so much", "I know Y/N but I've got to go now", "wait what, c-can't you stay a little longer" "I wish I could but don't you worry, I'll come by tomorrow and we can chat all day long" after that was said the line went dead
The next day rolled around very quickly, you sat near the phone waiting for it to ring, as you bite your nails thinking Tess wasn't going to call you
Until a knock at your front door startled you, when you went to check who it was as you opened the door, you placed your hand up towards your mouth in shock
Tess was standing there with a big smile "hello Y/N I told you I was coming by, did you forget" you didn't respond to Tess instead you just hugged her instead
The next couple of days would go on like this, Tess would come over and you's would talk for hours then Tess would leave before nightfall and cycle would repeat
Tommy and Maria started to notice your demeanour had changed to a happy one but they couldn't figure out why until one day Maria had caught you waving goodbye to someone but she didn't see anyone
Maria was going to go over to talk to you but realised it was getting dark and decided to just head home
The moment Maria got home she called out for Tommy "Tommy are you here", "yup I'm in the kitchen, what's up" "so I just saw Y/N waving someone goodbye like someone was just leaving their house" "oh did see who it was"
Maria shook her head "No I didn't but I also didn't see anyone or any footprints on the porch either"
Tommy looked at Maria with concern "Tommy is this another side of Y/N" Tommy shook his head "no I don't think so I think this is something new, we'll find out more tomorrow"
As tomorrow came you got a knock on your door, thinking it was Tess to realise it was Tommy and Maria
"Oh hey Tess you're a day early... Oh h-h-hi Tommy and Maria, what brings you here today" you stepped away from the door to let them in
Tommy looked at you with worry then changed his expression to a fake smile "we were just coming to check up on you, to see how you were, we had both noticed that you we've been very chipper in the last couple of days and we were just wondering why"
"Oh that's because Tess has been coming over and we've just been talking about different things"
Maria looked at Tommy then at you with a forced smile "Tess sounds like lovely lady, I've only heard bits and pieces from Tommy and I would’ve of loved to meet her"
"She's coming by tomorrow with more guests, if you want to meet her then" "oh no no, it's fine I don't want to intrude especially now hearing there's more guests coming"
The three of you stood silently not saying anything until Tommy spoke up "welp, I think it should be best for me and Maria to get on home so you can get ready for your guests tomorrow"
"Oh yeah sure, it was lovely to see you's too" as Tommy and Maria left your house, you waved goodbye to them
But when Tommy and Maria made it back to theirs, they didn't know what to say to each other and also had to fake and force a smile on their faces when hearing you explain that you've been talking to Tess
"Tommy, Y/N is hallucinating, we have to tell them" "no" "no what do you mean no" "I'm not going to tell Y/N that they're hallucinating their dead friend and probably others" "but Tommy it's not healthy for them" "I know that but I've never seen them this chipper before and the only other time I've seen them this chipper was with..."
Maria noticed how Tommy's expression just dropped "with who Tommy" "with Sarah" Tommy placed his hands on his face and let out deep sigh "if Joel does return we can't tell him" "what, Tommy Joel has the right to know"
"no he doesn't because imagine what would happen if we told him that Y/N was hallucinating Tess and other people as well as Sarah because I can imagine it and it will break Joel and to find out Y/N has been spiralling since he left, so that is why we are not going tell Joel or Y/N, we have to let them work this out for themselves, we can be there for them afterwards and hell if they want to go on patrols after this, we'll let them"
Maria thought to herself knowing what Tommy was saying was right but also wrong so she decided to herself that when Joel returns, she's going to tell him everything
As Tomorrow came around, it was the last day of February, you got up super early to get the house made for tess and the other guests
It's when you heard the knock on the door, you quickly walked over to it and as you opened the door Tess was standing there with the same big grin and the other guests who you quickly realised who they were, Bill, Frank, Henry, Sam and Sarah
It brought tears to your eyes as you were overwhelmed with joy and sadness because the last time you had seen Sarah was the day of the outbreak, you were with her in the car and next minute you weren't
So as you let everyone come into the house because it started to rain which you found a bit odd but shrug it off
"It's so great to see you all again, I've missed all of you's so very much" Sarah smiled at you then spoke for everyone "us too Y/N, now let's all sit down and talk because we don't have much time"
All of you's talked for hours on end as morning started to turn to the afternoon and nearing to nightfall, you started to get a migraine out of nowhere as you placed your hand to your head hoping it’ll ease the pain, you suddenly felt a hand touch your shoulder
You looked over to see Sarah with a small smile "I'm okay" "no your not Y/N" you broke eye contact with Sarah for a second to realise the others were gone
"Sarah where are the others" "they left Y/N" "I didn't get to say goodbye" "it's ok, they knew it was their time to leave and you've already said your goodbyes countless of times"
You gave Sarah a perplexed look "I don't understand" Sarah placed her hand on to your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze
"Y/N what I'm going to tell you it might break you and I'm so sorry" "please don't" "so you're aware I'm not really here or the others" "yes but I didn't want the dream to end" "oh Y/N, you know holding onto ghosts it isn't healthy"
"I know but I was happy even though I was sad knowing I've been hallucinating you's this entire month" "and you know that what's coming out of my mouth is your mind telling you things you want to hear" "yes"
Sarah smiled at you and noticed you were getting sleepy, she directed you to the sofa and got you to lay down but before you dozed off sleep
Sarah spoke one last time "so I'm going to tell you a three things before I go, one do what you do best, your scavenger Y/N and the best damn hunter so go on patrols with Tommy, two if my dad returns I would say give him hell but i think he's been put through the wringer already so try and go easy on him and Three embrace your dark side cause you’ll need
You started to drift off to sleep and your eyes closed, Sarah leaned into your ear and whispered "we will meet again"
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Honey-Do [joel miller]
It’s Sunday, chore day, and Joel has a honey-do list item of his own: get his girl pregnant.
my masterlist!
pairing: joel miller x f!reader
rating: 18+ (mdni)
tags and warnings: pre-outbreak joel, married!joel, pure fluff and smut, slight au, body worship, some cock worship, handyman!joel, malewife!joel, joel “my wife doesn’t lift a finger in this home” miller, vague daddy undertones, overstimulation, joel miller is a munch, oral sex (m and f receiving), unprotected PIV (wrap it up unless you’re joel), creampie, breeding kink, actual breeding, talks of pregnancy, pregnancy kink, domestic bliss, joel’s love language being acts of service and by that i mean putting a baby in his wife, competence kink
word count: ~ 10k (someone stop me)
read on ao3!
a/n: hello, lovelies!! i received this ask ages ago and the idea inevitably snowballed because who is self-control?? does she go to a different school? anyway, this fic is pure plotless domestic fluff and domestic smut (is that a thing? yes!), so i really hope you all enjoy! pre-outbreak joel is very special to me xoxo
HONEY-DO
Your shared bedroom looks out over the eastern sunrise. A mutually-assured vigil, keeping one another safe—and timely.
In the mornings, the golden light spills through the break in the curtains. It will peek slowly inside and gently warm your body awake, testing the limits of its power. When you roll over and make a soft groan of protest in your sleep, seeking more warmth, the little strip of sunlight will widen, directing you. You will find the body next to yours, nuzzling close, your nose bumping his bare chest, and settle happily against it. In return, his body will seek yours, symbiotic exchange, a greedy arm pulling you closer.
In frustration, the sun grumbles it way higher in the sky, shining brighter and spreading wider.
It takes a couple tries to get it right: to shine in just the right way to make you blink rapidly awake, squinting in the glow. You gradually come to life, your lungs sucking in the first deep breath of morning air, your naked body stretching like a cat in the sunspot. Dust hovers lazily in the air, heralding a Sunday occupied by chores. The room is still, silent, and kissed by morning rays. Peaceful.
You examine him in the light: tanned skin sparkling gold, plush lips slightly parted, broad chest rising and falling. His hair is pleasantly tousled from sleep. There are patches of silver beginning to thread through his dark brown beard, and in your self-sustaining state of affection, you gently put your lips to one of the patches of skin where hair does not grow.
Your persistence grows with every second he refuses to wake. It may be a bit petulant, your lips smattering soft kisses across his jaw, beneath his ear, down to his neck and all its veins, but it begins to work. He stirs, groaning softly, turning onto his side and wrapping both arms around your waist. He does all of this without opening his eyes, resting his head on your belly and nuzzling against you as if he could get any closer—sated, for now, his body knowing nothing but the pull toward you.
You comb your fingers through his messy hair and listen to him breathe while he listens to your heartbeat.
“It’s ten,” you whisper.
“Hmph,” he says against your belly. He hasn’t opened his eyes yet; if you didn’t know his breathing patterns like they were mapped out in the lines of your palms, you would think he’s still sleeping.
“We slept in,” you point out.
Joel gently bumps his forehead into your stomach as if he were banging his head against a wall. “Shit,” he grumbles.
You laugh as his moustache tickles your skin. “Do you want to get up now?”
Another grunt, accompanied by a shake of his head. Big, strong arms pull you closer.
“I’ll make you breakfast,” you coo, stroking his hair away from his face. “Eggs… bacon… coffee…”
Joel presses his lips to your belly. “Don’t go takin’ my job, now,” he says, his voice groggy with disuse. “No girl of mine’s gonna run around gettin’ her own damn coffee.”
“Hmm. Means you have to move, Romeo.”
This earns a playful smack to the side of your thigh, his big, callused hand kneading your flesh while he wakes himself up with mouthfuls of your scent—linen and vanilla—and gulps down the sunlight glowing on your skin.
“Never mind,” you sigh, dreamy and complacent under his attention.
His eyes finally crack open, peering up at you, honey-brown pools touched by the golden light. He rests his chin on your belly and keeps his arms wrapped around your hips. His fingers trace shapes up and down your lower back. “You got a honey-do list?” he asks with a crooked grin.
Your tongue wets your bottom lip. “That depends. Can I get you to mow the lawn without a shirt on?”
“What do I get if I do?” he teases, his hand moving to your hip, contouring his hand to the shape of you.
You lift a brow, easing your legs apart underneath his body, letting him feel the warmth between your thighs. Like a moth to the goddamn flame, his eyes wide and eager, Joel crawls down your body with his mouth on your belly. Pausing just above your naked cunt, he blows cool air onto your clit and watches you squirm.
“After,” you gasp. “After chores, honey. We’ll never get up if we start now.”
“Don’t think I can make my woman come in good time?” he challenges, his palms keeping your thighs spread. Your pretty pussy glistens before his eyes, better than any fuckin’ breakfast. He begins to salivate.
Your head falls back into the pillows. “I never said that.”
Joel isn’t listening anymore. He kneads your thighs as he peers at you above your belly, your tits, to the curve of your jaw as you lie comfortably. Good. His baby ain’t about to get herself worked up on a Sunday morning.
He lowers his face just enough to let you feel his lashes tickling your lower belly, and you giggle his name, the sound pure adrenaline to his blood. You're so soft and supple under his fingers, moulding to his touch, letting him take care of you. You may be in charge of him, but this is where he takes control.
He presses a soft kiss to your clit and you sigh, your head turning toward the direction of the sun. It warms your face while your husband slides his tongue through your wet slit, lazily and sleepily, as though he's operating on instinct alone. Gathering up your wetness on his tongue, he groans, his fingers dimpling your thighs.
“Taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he murmurs. “Fuckin’ made for me.”
“Oh, God,” you whisper, your eyes fluttering. “Baby…”
That sweet little whine is poison. He cannot do anything but continue to drink you down, flicking his tongue against your clit. He's a sucker and he's always been. Your pretty fuckin’ smile from across the bar that first night; your tight black dress and the too-sweet cocktail you smooth-talked him into ordering that had his adenoids prickling; your instinct for sensing others’ troubles and your uncanny ability to make them feel like they have none at all. He never stood a chance.
He knows for a goddamn fact every man in the bar that night wanted to do to you what Joel is doing now: lapping up your juices with his tongue, spit mingling with arousal, warming his body between your thighs under the watch of the mid-morning sun. But he got you. Joel. He bought you a drink and he took you on a date. He got to taste your pretty pussy and he got to sit you on his dick—after the second date, that is.
He's the one who gets to wake up with you, share matching gold bands around your fingers, kiss you freely. As far as he's concerned, he's the luckiest guy on the fuckin’ planet.
He feels particularly green when your back arches, your lips parting around his name, relishing in the feeling of his mouth on your clit. You're unashamed to take pleasure, never shy about telling him Oh, fuck, yes! Right there, honey! Joel, yes, that feels so good, baby.
Joel preens with pride. His hot tongue glides over your clit, smooth and wet, easily coaxing you to a languid high. The golden spotlight through the curtains shines on you. You're the starlet and he's the adoring fan. From the first day, he knew he'd do anything to make you notice him.
“This wasn’t your first bar fight, was it?”
Plucking pieces of glass out of his bloodied knuckles, you looked up through your lashes at Joel, who had been staring at you since you sat him down in the bathroom. Okay—a little longer than that.
He shook his head.
You just smiled at him and gently shook your head. About as much reproach as he would get. “This might sting. Just hold on tight if you need to.”
“Like the sound of that,” he said quietly, and if you heard, you didn't comment. You guided his hand under the warm water and washed the rest of the blood from his knuckles, gently smoothing the pads of your fingers over his rough worker’s hands. Capable, you thought, idly watching the blood swirl into the drain. He barely winced when you put his hand under.
“Wanna tell me why you did it?” you asked him, your tone soothing and sweet.
Joel shrugged. Big, broad shoulders. Humbly strong, until someone made him show it. “Ain't manly to touch a woman like that.”
You lifted your brows. “But it's manly to beat the shit out of the guy who touched her?”
Joel studied your face. Cherry-red lip gloss. Gently flushed cheeks from a healthy couple drinks. The instinctual rise and fall of your chest as you breathed, the lighting shifting gently over your collarbones. It was fascinating just to watch you breathe. Even cleaning his bloody knuckles, you slowly circled the pad of your thumb over the back of his hand, like an innate urge to comfort. Your eyes had an old wisdom to them; a particular gleam a person gained when they were familiar with the hardships life had to offer.
He wanted to ask you. He wanted to know everything. He wanted to do more than beat up some asshole who thought he could get away with pinching your ass.
But he would earn it. A real man earned what he got.
“Didn’t beat the shit out of him. Just roughed him up,” he says.
He watched you bite down on a smile. “You're a little twisted, Joel.”
“Yeah?” He smirked, eyes flicking to your dewy lips, coated with that gloss. “Think so?”
“Yeah.” You licked your bottom lip and he wondered if you tasted like cherries. “But I'm going to ask you on a date anyway.”
Your fingers curl in Joel’s messy hair, making him groan into your pussy. “Oh, baby,” you gasp, cracking your heavy eyes open to watch him lap at you, practically petting his hair away from his face as his big brown eyes remain fixed to yours.
He purrs, suckling your clit between his lips, his eyes eagerly drinking in the sight of your flushed, tightening body. Making you come is one thing. Watching it is another. Your back arches and your fingers pull on his hair. Scalp prickling, Joel grips your thighs tighter. He’d let you peel away pounds of his flesh if it made you happy. He’d go eagerly to the grave knowing he had put some good into the world, put some light in your eyes.
“Joel, I’m… I’m coming—ah!” you cry, your thighs squeezing his head, your sensitive clit pulsing under his tongue as your pussy contracts around itself, seeking something nice and big to grasp onto. His cock is aching, his hips grinding idly against the mattress for relief, his head fuzzy from the pleasure of making you feel good. Your body slowly melts into the bed, your limbs twitching as the tension in your muscles loosens, your lips parted permanently around his name.
Eyes drooping and teary, you try to find him between your thighs, gently stroking his hair away from his face as it begins to fall into his big brown eyes. “Need a haircut,” you croak.
Joel hums, his head listing to the side, using your soft thigh as a pillow. He nips you playfully, your skin a golden path he intends to follow to the end. His hands caress your hips, helping you come down to Earth. You admire the delectable convex slope of his nose, the way it curves deliciously against your skin when he kisses, bites, inhales. He’s freckled and indented with the signifiers of a lived-in life; a good life. His is a likeness you could trace with your eyes closed.
It’s eleven o’clock, and your stomach begins to grumble.
Joel chuckles, pressing a long kiss to your belly. “Gettin’ up now,” he says. “Promise.”
He pulls on a pair of sweatpants, tucking his hard cock away to be dealt with later. Padding down the stairs, Joel is quick to tend to your needs, putting on a fresh pot of coffee. After so long together, his mind operates on autopilot, steering him from the cupboard to the refrigerator and back to the steaming pot, occupied with the menial task of making a good cup. The gentle clinking scrape of the spoon as he stirs your milk into the cup wakes him up until he feels practically revitalised. He keeps his coffee black.
He hears the soft tread of your feet behind him, feels the warmth of your body as you crowd his space, smiles at the way you smooth your palms over the planes of his muscled back in unadulterated admiration. His shoulders are wide, tapering down to the soft belly you’ve nurtured through years of cooking. He’s sturdy and strong and all yours. The sight of him always makes you a bit giddy.
“So handsome,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his middle and pressing your face between his shoulder blades. The buffed claws of his woodsy pine scent hook into the spaces between your ribs.
Joel lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses the wedding band on your finger, the engagement ring above it. “Sit down, baby. Coffee’s ready.”
You grin against his back, nudging your nose into his tanned skin. “Mmm. That sounds good. But I wanna stay here. ‘s nice and warm.”
“Girl of my dreams,” Joel murmurs, reaching around his back and patting your ass. “C’mon, I’ll keep you warm.”
You grumble your way to the little circular table in the kitchen, tucked into the alcove at the front window. It’s a souvenir from your parents' garage sale when they decided to sell their home and move to Austin. As a girl, you’d draw, scratch, and paint on that table, endlessly entertaining yourself by marking things up. Even now, there are remnants of your childhood in the worn grooves and chipped varnish. It fits nicely into your home, perfectly suited to two. It could even fit one more.
You ruminate as you watch Joel carry two mugs to the table. He knows which cup is your favourite: green ceramic decorated with tiny flowers, perfectly contoured to the shape and size of your hands, warming your palms just nicely between sips. Joel’s mug shows its age: white but slightly yellowed from years of use, bigger than yours. The steam of the coffee gently curls into the air, a dance of silvery ribbons in lock-step. They twist together as you purse your lips and blow. The rich, smooth caramel hue of your coffee contrasts the tar-black of Joel’s.
Since you dragged yourself out of bed on shaky legs, you shrugged on the navy T-shirt he tossed aside last night to give his greedy wife access to his chest. You'd carved some decent marks into his skin, now that you're properly looking: tiny bruises sharpening to purple, faint pinkish scratch marks that you don't remember making.
“Baby, I don’t mind,” he says, watching you scan his chest with a frown creasing your brow.
“But it looks painful, honey. You should let me—”
“You don’t gotta do anything,” says Joel, “‘cept come over here.”
Your brows lift coyly, your body sliding out of the chair and into his lap, legs bracketing his strong thighs. His hand finds a home on your lower back, bunching the hem of his shirt up to find your ass bare, your wet cunt sitting nice and pretty on his hard cock. You gasp when the generous length meets your puffy clit with heavy pressure. “Joel…”
Your voice is a mere whimper, a soft little plea for more, or for mercy. Joel’s always had better restraint than you.
“Warmer now?” he asks, like a real arrogant asshole, slipping his hand under the shirt on your body and splaying his fingers over your ribcage, thumb grazing the underside of your breast.
You do feel warmer, crushed up against him like this. You reach behind you and grab your coffee mug, taking a small sip. Your other hand winds around his neck and scratches the tousled hair at the nape of his neck. Joel hums, leaning close, nuzzling his face between your tits.
“Gimme the list,” he says, voice muffled.
You keep on stroking his hair and drinking your coffee between list items. “Mow the lawn. Clean out the eavestrough. Fix the sink.”
“Hmm, easy work,” he says, his other hand sliding up and down your back. It makes you melt into him even more, giving him the chance to tease a nipple between his teeth through the fabric of your shirt. You huff, wiggling your hips, but he's a brick wall. He does not budge. “Gimme yours, baby.”
You recall the items on your own list. “Vacuum the house. Go for groceries. Touch up the paint on the front door. Do the laundry. Cook dinner. Cut your hair,” you add with a playful smile.
Joel frowns against your chest, pulling back to look up into your eyes like a grumpy, needy dog. “You put all that down for yourself?”
You try to placate him with a kiss on his nose. “You work so hard, sweetie. I could use some hard labour once in a while.”
Joel shakes his head. “You aren’t doin’ all that by yourself.”
“No?” You lift your brows. “Wanna buy it off me, Mr. Miller?”
“I’ll win ‘em from you,” he says, tilting his head back to kiss your jaw. “Name the price.”
You bite your lip and chase his mouth, plush and soft under that dark moustache. “I’ll think on that. Meantime, you can get to work on that lawn while I watch from the comfort of the front porch. That sound fair?”
Joel’s old Southern values rear up every now and then, imparted by his mother and his father’s mother before. Putting in an honest day’s work will make his wife comfortable and happy. He doesn't want you lifting a finger around this home if he's perfectly capable of doing the job himself. He works with his hands all day, gets dirty and sweaty. You shouldn't have to—not when you work so damn hard every other day of the week.
Joel nips your chin. “Fine. But I ain’t gonna forget that I owe you.”
“Wouldn't dream of it, baby.”
Joel finishes his coffee, but you take your time with yours, changing into a short blue sundress while Joel, regrettably, puts a pair of jeans and a shirt on. Curling your legs up on the porch swing, you watch your man start the lawnmower, enthralled by the rippling of his back muscles with every pull. You know that some of it’s for show—knowing you're watching makes him want to impress you. Sometimes, he's still the man with the teenaged crush on the girl, doing everything he can and going out of his way to make you smile. It works.
He’s methodical: making lines up and down the lawn, shearing away the too-long blades of grass under the motor. As sweat begins to bloom under his collar and his brow, he wipes his forehead with his forearm and you lick your lips, saliva pooling in your mouth at the thought of running your tongue all over his strong, naked body. Jesus. You finish off your coffee and force your eyes away from your husband for a moment. It isn't too hot from where you sit on the wraparound porch, but your chest feels sticky.
You rush inside to fill up a glass of water for him, hastily scrubbing your mug clean and putting it back in the cupboard. Maybe you should be occupying yourself with your chores today; you worry nothing will get done if you continue to watch him work in the Texas sun.
He’s just finishing when you shoulder your way back outside, his neck glistening with sweat and golden noon-hour light, warm and tempting. You set the glass on the railing and wait for him to come your way, squeezing your thighs together as your eyes trail up and down his body.
He's always been a capable man, broad and tall—so good at his job that he was offered a promotion after a few months. But it isn't just his strength or his doggedness when it comes to getting his work done. It's the way he’s so eager to finish things, to check off the items on your list, to please you. He frowns at the idea of you doing too much work. He parades you around town with a puffed-up chest, as if to announce, This is my wife. I’m her husband and I’m fucking proud. He takes your pleasure so seriously that it feels like a competitive sport—always outdoing himself, always striving for more. He loves selflessly, and yet he loves just selfishly enough to make sure the world knows you're his.
He’ll be a good daddy.
You glance down at your belly and let yourself picture it: swollen and round, ballooning big enough to fit a new life inside. You imagine smoothing your hand over a growing bump, Joel’s warm palms feeling the undulating kicks of a little baby inside, half of him and half of you. You picture back aches and swelling feet and insatiable cravings and expended energy. And not a part of it deters you. Not a speck of your willpower wavers, the way it would have mere months ago.
Something has changed. It may have been gradual and it may have been sudden. But it's new, all the same. It’s been this way since a week ago, when you looked in your nightstand at your little pink pill organiser labelled by weekday, and decided: No more.
Watching Joel make his way back to you, shielding his eyes from the light, you idly place your hand on your belly. Something new. A welcome change, you think, to have someone new sitting at our little table.
Joel climbs up the steps to the porch and gulps down the glass of water. “Thank you, baby,” he says, wiping his mouth. Your lips part as if to taste the air around him, to chew, to savour, relishing the richness.
Your pupils expand, taking in more of him, and Joel notices, placing a rough hand over yours where it rests on your belly. “You’re lost in thought, honey. Wanna tell me what's in that pretty head?”
“Just…” Your tongue wets your bottom lip. “Thank you for doing that. I know it's a big job.”
“Ain’t nothin’,” says Joel, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Got any idea how I can win those chores off you?”
Hands grasping your hips, sliding over your sweat-slick spine, saccharine noises slipping from your throat onto your tongue and out into the open air. Fingers imprinting permanent fixtures into your ribs. The heady weight of his big, fat cock wrenching you open, as it always does, slow until it isn't anymore. Desperation kicking in, a switch flipped, pummeling and brutal and unforgiving. Uncompromising. Hips pressed flush to your ass, nothing spilling out. Not a drop.
Everything sealed in tight as promises are exchanged as whispers in the dark.
“I want you to put a baby in me.”
All right. You could have been more delicate about it. Not precisely how you wanted to approach the topic, but it seems to get the job done.
Looking down at you, Joel slowly lowers the empty glass, mouth opening as he searches for words. “What?”
There’s no point in shyness or hesitation. You know your body, your mind, your heart. You thread your fingers through Joel’s and let them stay connected over your stomach. “I want you to give me a baby, Joel Miller,” you say softly, your gaze locked to his. “That's my price.”
Joel swallows thickly, his mouth still gaping. “I heard you,” he rasps. “Just… you… you mean it?”
You try not to melt over the tone of his voice: low, bordering on desperate, wanting. There’s hunger in the sound of it. “We’ve talked about it,” you offer, conciliatory. “Lots of times.”
“Yeah, we have.” Joel steps closer, his eyes dipping from your eyes to your mouth, your throat and collarbones, to your belly. His hand flexes. “You gotta be sure. You gotta know it's what you want.”
You cup his face and give him your best smile. It's the sort of smile he remembers from the very first night you met. The sort of person who is unashamed to show their joy on their face. “Honey, I want it all with you.” Your fingers squeeze his. “We’ve waited so long and I don’t want to wait anymore.”
His ears are ringing. All Joel can do is sweep you into his arms and grin into your throat, his hand firm on the back of your head, curling around a fistful of hair. “Girl of my fuckin’ dreams,” he mumbles against your skin. “I’ll make you a momma. Give you just what you want. Everything you want.”
As you close your eyes and open your ears to his ramblings, your erratic heartbeat settles. Serenity finds the pair of you, locked together on your front porch, and the next part of your life begins.
“Don’t think this gets us out of doing chores,” you tease.
“You aren’t gonna lift a goddamn finger,” says Joel fiercely, his lips still littering kisses all over your neck. “You’re havin’ a baby.”
“Honey, I’m not pregnant yet,” you laugh. “I don't need to get all lazy right away.”
“Yeah, you do, and you will. I’m gonna make you the laziest momma in Texas,” says Joel, smiling into your throat, the scratch of his moustache making you dizzy with laughter. “Gonna look so fuckin’ beautiful with a baby in you. Gonna glow like a goddamn firefly. Shit, we need to paint the spare room. I need to build a crib, get time off work—”
“Joel,” you coo, scratching your nails up and down the back of his neck. “We’ll have time to do all of that.”
He pulls back to look down at you, eyes so buttery-soft in the shade of the porch that you impulsively reach for his cheek and run your fingers through his patchy beard. “What’s next on my list?” he asks, holding you around the waist.
You tap your fingers gently against his cheek as you recite each item over again. Joel’s arms tighten, pulling you closer, pupils widening.
“And then what?” he says gruffly.
You beam, and he's so fucking in love that he may keel over, doubled by the intensity of his affection. “And then, you're going to take me to bed and put a baby in me.”
This phenomenon should be studied: how quickly Joel Miller speeds through his chores when he has enough incentive. The anticipation of bending you over on the mattress and wringing every drop of cum from his balls until your stomach swells drives each flick of his hand as he touches up the forest-green paint on the front door, weathered slightly by morning sunlight over the years. The image of his hips pressed flushed to you as he grinds deep, spilling his cum into your womb and forcing it to take, motivates every turn of the steering wheel as he drives you to the grocery store in his clunky Chevy.
He’ll need to drive to Benny’s, get the suspension fixed up; no way in hell he's going to let his pregnant wife sit on the old bench of a bumpy pickup truck, not with the speed bumps dotting the neighbourhood. At least there's a good preschool nearby. He pictures taking his baby to school and he preemptively feels the inevitable first swoop of dread into his gut knowing he'll have to watch his little girl disappear behind those doors. He knows, somehow, that it’ll be a girl. There's not a doubt in his mind.
“What are you thinkin’ about?” you ask him, playing with his fingers as he holds your thigh. Joel is a great driver; he steers so easily, one palm sliding smoothly over the wheel, his eyes alert and his speed under control. It’s a little sexy, and it makes you antsy from where you sit on the bench. Sure, there are chores to do and there’s dinner to make, but it’s getting harder to push your innate needs to the back of your mind. You don't know if you can wait all day to get him inside you.
“Names,” he says. “Got lots of ideas.”
“Yeah? Fire away.”
“Well, I like Eleanor. Good, strong, classic name, y’know? Little wordy, maybe. Then there's Mary, Marie, Hannah, and I can tell you don't like any of ‘em,” he finishes with a laugh, squeezing your thigh. Your silence has always been a tell.
“They're very sweet names,” you concede, “but they don't feel like my baby.”
Joel’s hand slides up to your belly and warms you beneath your dress. “Maybe we’ll feel it,” he says, “when we make her.”
“Think it’ll happen on the first try?” you wonder aloud, watching the scenery whiz by outside. It's a sunny, temperate day for Austin. You think about taking your baby for a walk, lounging lazily in a stroller while you say words that fall on deaf ears, but will resonate in due time nonetheless. You think about a little girl that will cling hard to her daddy’s leg when she gets scared of the storms outside, the way you did when you were little. You think about long nights shushing your sweet baby girl to sleep, about those same nights spent nestled into Joel’s body, the three of you dozing idly on the sofa. A unit.
“If it doesn’t, I’ll just have to try again.” You watch his fingers creep back down between your legs and snap the waistband of your panties.
You smack his hand. “If you keep playin’, Mr. Miller, you're gonna have to take me right here, in this truck. You want to give your wife a bad back?”
Joel grunts, patting your thigh. “Dirty play.”
“That's what I thought.”
Back at home, Joel vacuums the house while you manage, some-fuckin’-how, to convince him to let you do the laundry. He fishes debris and runoff out of the eavestrough, then gets down on his bad knees to tighten the plumbing underneath the sink.
“Let me help, sweetie. At least hand you a wrench or something. You'll hurt your back again.”
“I got it,” he grunts from under the sink. “Just a loose pipe. I’m peachy.”
You just sigh and let him carry on, the stubborn bastard. When he stands, the job done, he lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his forehead, and you get a generous glimpse of his belly, the trail of dark hair directing your gaze down, down—
“Joel?” you squeak, wringing your hands together.
He drops the shirt back over his abdomen and steps closer. “Yeah, baby?”
“Are you, um… Are you hungry?”
He understands the particular glint in your eye, the telltale widening of your pupils, the hollow of your throat dipping as you swallow, your lashes fluttering gently. Blood surges down to his cock and it begins to fill out his jeans at the thought of taking what he's waited for all day. “No,” he says, licking his bottom lip. You eye every minute movement with meticulous precision. “Think dinner can wait.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” you say, crowding him and tugging at the hem of his shirt. He watches you prowl slowly toward him, gaze locked to the heady pull of your eyes. His cock twitches with a vested interest in the body now pressed up against him. Joel cannot look away from the siren now calling him to sea.
“That so?” he rasps, bunching the fabric of your dress so it rides up your hip and gives him a good look at your panties. “You dressed up all pretty today. For me?”
You're as coy as a flirtatious schoolgirl, trailing your fingers up and down his muscled bicep. “Always for you.”
“That’s right, baby. You like me lots, don't you?”
“Mmm, I do,” you purr, your hand sliding up his abdomen to his chest, admiring the hard planes of his strong body. “So handsome, strong, generous…” You get lost in your exploration, eyes dipping to his throat, your lips instinctively seeking the delectable vein that pulses with every beat of his heart. “Such a good man. Gonna be such a good daddy.”
Joel’s breath shudders out of him when he feels your soft, warm mouth on his neck, indulging in the taste of him. “Jesus,” he croaks, gripping your hips hard. “Jesus, honey, you gotta go easy on me. Lemme take it slow—”
—or I swear to God, I’ll blow a load in my jeans.
“You wanna undress me?” you say, like a real fucking tease, pulling away and tugging playfully at the straps of your dress. Joel’s nostrils flare, and he’s walking you back into the wall, cupping the back of your head to protect it, and slanting his mouth over yours.
He’s salty with the sweat that drips from his temples and he still smells of fresh-cut grass. He’s all Joel, all yours, the first gulp of air you breathe in when you wake and the last sigh you exhale before you sleep.
You moan into his mouth as he parts your lips and dips his tongue between them to taste yours. You taste like mint and coffee and he clutches you tighter, wrinkling the fabric of your pretty little dress in his fist. The sunlight filters through the windows, intrusive, bleeding into the moment as if taking a snapshot. Joel kisses you so deeply that your throat feels stained with the gasps of breath you exchange.
You're sweet enough that it makes him ache, bending your back to fit you to him, craving more. Closeness is not enough—he needs possession.
Joel’s kisses are bruising, unforgiving, merciless, but they are also slow, careful. He isn't sloppy; he does precisely what must be done to get you riled. And when he breaks away, his forehead resting against yours, you tug his hair with a pitiful whine.
“I wasn't done,” you tell him.
Joel pouts, mocking. Fingers pull at the straps of your dress until you're watching it pool at your feet. His big hands find your tits immediately, squeezing out all his frustrations, tweaking your nipples and lowering his mouth to your throat.
Your fingers curl into his hair, glueing him to you while he marks your throat, sucking blood to the surface, retribution for the hickeys all over his chest. His warm palms explore your tits the way he likes, and you curve into him, giving him all the access he wants. “Joel, honey—”
Your voice is nectar, warmth from a fire on the Fourth of July, the stomach-cramping laughter around the flame. Joel groans, blindly searching for your hand with his face still nuzzled in your throat, sucking a particularly aggressive bruise that you’ll scold him for later. But he threads his fingers through yours and feels the cool kiss of your twin wedding bands, and your sweet, wispy sighs have him grinding absently against your thigh. You don't have half the mind to get mad at him for a goddamn thing.
He pulls away with a great yank of his self-restraint, still holding your hand. “C’mon, baby.”
You follow dutifully, staring up at your husband with the same moony eyes you gave him on your wedding day. The third stair creaks a bit, the way it always does. The bedroom door is first on the left, and it's a good fucking thing, because Joel can't wait any longer.
He walks you to the edge of the bed, stalking, a predator on prey, focused solely on his task. “Goddamn beautiful,” he says to himself, scanning your mostly-naked body and feeling his eyes droop in arousal.
“Think so?” Your hand drops between your bodies and palms his erection over his jeans. “Yeah, you really think so.”
His nostrils flare. “Sit.”
You lower yourself onto the mattress, primly placing your hands on your thighs and straightening your spine. Joel hums appreciatively, approaching you and slotting himself between your legs. There's a dark wet spot pooling in your panties. “Sweet thing. So needy all fuckin’ day.”
“So were you” is your retort, packing little punch due to the way you push your tits toward him like a fucking whore.
Joel presses his big, warm hand to your sternum. “Remember what you said to me the first time I got you in bed?”
“‘Let’s go again’?”
“The other thing.”
“'Let me suck your dick’?”
“Try again, baby.”
“‘Wrong hole’?”
Joel snorts, shaking his head. “Goddamn smartass,” he mutters. “Told me you wanted me from that first night. Told me you woulda let me fuck you against that bathroom mirror.”
His hand begins to move, rolling your nipple between his fingers like a cigarette, playing with you the way he likes. “Said you’d let me do whatever I wanted,” Joel says quietly, not meeting your eyes, transfixed by the way your body seeks the touch he gives you. “That still true?”
“I meant it then, and I mean it now,” you tell him, pulling your lip between your teeth. “I’m yours, Joel Miller.”
He tilts his head slightly, satisfied. “You got somethin’ you wanna ask me?”
You hook a finger in his belt loop. “Can you get naked now?”
He laughs, guiding your hand to the buckle on his belt. “Go on. Do what you wanna do, baby.”
He belongs to you. He’s yours to mould the way you want.
Your fingers do away with his belt, whipping it out of the loops and hanging it around your neck. Joel’s hands flex at his sides as you toy with the hem of his shirt, bringing it slowly up his torso with your palms flat to his tanned skin.
You imagine you're sculpting him like clay, bringing your hands over the contours and admiring the work when all is done. It’s the artist’s pride of finishing the work and none of the self-reproach when something comes out wrong, because it’s Joel, and wrong becomes negligible.
You bring the shirt over his head with his assistance, lifting his arms for you, tossing the thing aside with little care. His eyes haven't once wavered from you. Next are his jeans, the scrape of his zipper and the delectable anticipation of hooking your fingers in the waistband and guiding them slowly down his hips.
His cock springs forward, thick and heavy and so hard it must ache, as you shuck his jeans down with his boxers. He grunts above you, his cock bobbing at the sight of your pretty lips parting. But you don’t take him into your mouth. You grasp the base of his cock and gently nuzzle your cheek against his length. Something like a strangled whimper leaves his throat.
“Baby,” he chokes.
“Yes, honey?” you say sweetly, looking up at him through your lashes.
“Jesus,” he says through his teeth. “You’re so fuckin' sexy. Fuck.”
You hum, slowly stroking your hand up and down as your tongue darts out to lick his balls. Joel’s hips stutter, his hand flying out to catch himself on the bedpost. “Goddamn. Jesus—”
Your coy smile knocks him askew, your lips pursing as you spit on the head of his cock, spreading your own saliva around the tip with your thumb. “I just wanna thank you”—a soft kiss to the tip has a rumbling groan crawling out of his throat—“for everything you do for me. I just want you to know how much I love you.”
Joel exhales hard, struggling to remember how breathing works when he's got his wife playing with his cock like it's your favourite toy. “How much do you love me?” he demands.
You wrap your fingers around the head of his cock and twist your hand up and down his shaft in a couple slow strokes. You're driving him fucking crazy. His vision is whiting out.
“I love you,” you purr, licking a broad stripe up the underside of his length. Joel’s chest is heaving with the effort of holding back. “Love you so much. Love you enough to make you a daddy.”
Joel caves, threading his fingers through your hair at the nape of your neck and stroking his thumb along your jaw. “Fuck, baby. Please…”
“Do you love me?” Batting your lashes, you scatter measured kisses from his tip to the base, teasingly licking his balls.
“Christ, I—” His hips jut forward instinctively. “I love you. Fuckin’ love you, baby.”
You flick your tongue against his slit and relish his groan, revelling in the sight of his flushed chest, his pink cheeks, the sweat on his brow. His jaw is tense, his nostrils flaring. He’s trying not to take control.
You slap his cock twice on your tongue and finally take it past your lips, sealing your mouth over the head. Joel moans, white-knuckling the bedpost, his other hand now stroking your hair. You fondle his balls in your free hand while the other grips him at the base, and he’s going to come embarrassingly soon if you keep looking up at him this way.
Your tongue swirls around the head of his cock while your lips seal tight, greedily suckling at his tip. Oversensitive, skin prickling with salty sweat, Joel practically breathes through his teeth. “Gonna kill me,” he manages. “You’re gonna kill me, honey.”
“Mmmm,” you reply, happily taking him deeper, his length sliding along the warm wetness of your tongue. Joel’s fingers tighten in your hair.
“Fuuuuck. You love this cock.”
“Mmmhmm.”
“Love takin' me into your mouth like a little slut.”
“Mmmmph,” you agree, pushing your tits out.
His hand drifts down to the belt hanging around your neck and he wraps his fist around both ends, tugging so you’re forced to take him deeper. You splutter, breathing hard through your nose, your arousal dripping onto the mattress.
The sloppy sounds of your mouth working his cock send his head spinning. Drool dribbles from the corners of your lips, your eyes squeezing black tears from dewy lashes. And when you take him down your throat, the sound of your choked moan leaves Joel with little choice but to pull out before he comes.
You whine, squeezing your thighs together. He swipes his thumb underneath your eye and shows you the black smudge from your mascara. “Doesn't take much to get you cryin’. You like me that much?”
You bite your bottom lip and beam up at him. “Did I do okay?”
Your faux-innocence makes his dick twitch in your face, and you flick your tongue out to lick at the tip once more. Joel grunts, grasping his belt and tossing it away.
“‘Did I do okay,’” he murmurs, tweaking your nipple between his fingers. “Got no idea after all these years. No idea what you do to me.”
“I just wanna take care of my man. He works so hard, you know, keeping me safe and happy.” You run your hand over his soft belly, the trail of hair that leads down to his cock. “He’s always liked to give me things.”
Joel backs you farther up the bed and crawls over your body, lowering his head to bury his face in your throat. You smell fresh and sweet as vanilla, and when he playfully bites into your skin, your saplike laugh has him grinding helplessly against your thigh.
He loves to give—always has. It’s all he knows. It took a long while for you to get him to unlearn some of his blind selflessness, to let you take control sometimes and care for him instead. Your Joel provides; he does not take. And the prospect of getting to give his wife a baby is turning him to putty in your hands. By the time he gets to work, he’ll be dead-set on his task, hard-pressed to pull out of you. He’ll want to get the job done on his first try, refusing to see you upset if the test comes back negative, but the id will still scratch and claw for another chance to fill you up.
Joel sucks a hickey into your neck and soothes the mark with his tongue, the slow, soft pleasure compounded by the way his warm body covers you, your fingers carding through his locks.
Your voice oozes, honeyed, down his spine. “I love you, Joel.”
He squeezes his eyes shut and crushes his nose in your throat, his hand smoothing down your hair. “I love you.”
“You want to make a baby?”
He rears back slightly, his nose bumping against yours. “Yeah. I really fuckin’ do.”
You grin, lacing your fingers together at the back of his neck. “Will you fuck me? Please?”
Joel brushes his thumb across your chin. “Use your words.”
“I want to be a mom, Joel.” You give him a long, gooey stare, eyes warm and soft as running water. A look like that will make a man give you the goddamn galaxy.
He nods, pressing a soft kiss to your mouth. “I know, baby. I’ll help you. Hands and knees, now.”
The gentle direction moulds your body to the shape of the words. You go easily, your back arching as you rest your weight on your forearms and spread your thighs. The bed dips behind you as Joel settles in, his hands grasping your ass and making you jump.
Your body trembles with excitement. You’re going to be a mom. He's going to get you pregnant. You feel dizzy, bending deeper at the hips and shaking your ass at him, deluded with your own arousal.
But Joel doesn't fuck you right away. No, he bumps up against the backs of your thighs, warm hands branding your skin, and rubs two fingers over the wet spot darkening your panties.
“I do this to you?” he says smugly.
“You know damn well—”
“Wanna hear you say it.” The no-nonsense command triggers a submissive response. “Who did this to you?”
Your body melts against him, presenting your pussy to him like a needy whore. “You, Joel. It’s you, baby. Only you.”
Your babbling makes him squeeze handfuls of your ass, spreading your asscheeks apart to get a good glimpse of the way your pussy drools into your panties. Shuffling backward and lowering himself to his knees on the floor, Joel’s tongue darts out and licks you through your underwear.
“Ohh, fuck!” you gasp. “Joel…”
He hums, tasting your tang through the fabric and finding your puffy clit, sucking gently. You cry out, your fingers grasping the sheets, and Joel moves your panties aside to slather his spit all over your dripping pussy. The languorous movements of his tongue are indulgent, achingly slow; he loves the taste of you as much as you enjoy having his mouth on your cunt.
“Oh my God, Joel… fuck, honey, please—!”
Your thighs are trembling as you struggle to hold yourself up, the strokes of his tongue turning your muscles to soup. He stops to take your panties off, guiding them off your legs, and by now, you're so wet that your juices glisten halfway down your thighs. Joel dives back in and licks up the rivulets of arousal from your skin, all the way back up to your weeping hole.
“So goddamn sweet,” he grumbles, kneading your ass in his hands as he flicks his tongue over your clit a few more times.
“Joel, I’m…” You’re drooling, grinding pathetically into his face, already close to an orgasm, and he isn't fucking letting up.
He wants you as wet and needy as possible, his own cock leaking onto the bedsheets at the prospect of sliding into your creamy pussy.
Your cheeks burn and your muscles lock as Joel makes out with your pussy, his tongue laving over your pearl in slow, aching circles. He drowns in the pleasure of making you feel good. He soaks himself in kerosene and lights the match.
“Oh, fuck!” Your thighs shake around his head and your toes curl, ears ringing with the force of your high. Grasping feebly at the bedsheets, you try not to list, but Joel isn’t fucking stopping, cleaning you up with his tongue like you're a piece of goddamn pie.
His fingers dig into your ass, rapacious as his mouth, and you climb high to a space that transcends the sky, feeling nothing but the linen underneath and the man above, softly kissing your poor, used clit.
He doesn’t let up until you reach back and gently shove his head away, grasping his damp curls. “Baby, let me rest,” you gasp, “just for a second.”
Regretfully, he pulls away, pressing a kiss to each knob of your spine, dragging his nose up your back. “‘m so fuckin’ lucky,” he murmurs against your skin.
“Lucky you didn’t kill me.” You laugh breathlessly, your hips already sore from keeping your ass in the air.
“Makin’ sure you’re ready,” he says innocently, sliding his thick fingers through your slit. You gasp, trying to escape his grasp despite yourself. He just clicks his tongue in reproach. “Nuh-uh, baby. You're gonna stay right here, let me make it good for you. Hmm? Wanna feel good?”
You nod your head frantically. “Yeah, yeah, I do. Wanna be good.”
“Mmm, now, you know that ain't your job tonight,” he says in a mock scold. In the meantime, his fingers soak themselves in your wetness. “Don't think you're ready for me yet.”
“No! No, I’m ready,” you pant, grinding against his erection. Joel grunts, holding your hip in place. “Baby, please, I’m ready for you. Need you so badly.”
“Shhh, sweetheart. I'll give you what you need. Just be patient.” Hands smooth over your ass, between your thighs, and then two fingers are teasing your hole. Joel tilts his head to watch the way he spreads your folds wide. “Gonna fill this up.”
A strangled noise spills from your mouth, your cheeks burning hot at the way he exposes you so tenderly. “Please,” you croak, hiding your face in the crook of your elbow.
He grasps himself and teases the already-wet head of his cock over your pussy, spurting precum onto your hole. “You want a baby?” he asks, low and dark. You luxuriate in the velvet-soft tone. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want a baby,” you whisper, “please. Please give me a baby.”
He readies himself at your tight cunt and the excitement briefly overcomes him, forcing his hips forward and pushing past the wet, gummy seal of your pussy. You gasp, held in place by his hand on your hip.
“What. Do. You. Want?”
“I want to make you a daddy!” you sob. “I want to have your baby and make you a daddy.”
“You want to be a momma?” he says through his teeth, tunnel vision narrowing his focus to the way he slowly guides himself into you, wrenching you open. At this angle, with how wet you are, the glide is delicious, white-hot, his balls heavy with the need to empty inside you. “That it? Want everyone to know who put a fuckin’ baby in you?”
Your husband is so fucking big, so strong, and the way he pins your body down feels close to primal. “Yes! Yes, Daddy, yes! I want to be a momma. Please give me a baby.”
The words put a chisel to his self-restraint and crack down. He’s gone, baring his teeth, pulling your hips toward him and impaling you on his cock, relishing the give of your tight walls and the way he sits snug against your cervix. You mewl, reaching back to find a purchase on his hip. “Joel, fuck…”
He establishes a punishing pace, driving your body farther up the bed with every thrust. “That’s it,” he groans, sliding his palm up your spine. “Gonna look so goddamn beautiful with a baby in you. You were fuckin’ made to take this cock.”
Your moan is syrupy and pitched low, your cheek buried in the mattress, letting him fill you up again, again, again—
“I’ll get you fuckin’ pregnant,” continues Joel, panting through his words, sweat beading on his brow as he runs his hands over your skin. “Stuff you so goddamn full you'll always feel me.”
“Uhhh!” you moan, fisting the sheets, your body practically folded in half to accommodate your husband’s huge body, his thick cock.
Joel wants this, too—has for a long time. It’s hard not to notice the little details. He places his hand on your belly when he isn't even paying attention, his lips finding the soft skin there when he first wakes in the morning. You knew he would have dropped everything to give you a baby the second you demanded it, but you realise you may have underestimated his need.
Joel is growling like a dog, sweat dripping from his temples and back pinching with effort as he holds your body close, glueing you to him, his cock reaching deep, deliberate, mind going numb, intent the only tangible feeling he can grasp onto. Intent and the white-hot drag of his cock against your walls.
You’re going to grow swollen and round with his baby. He will watch your tits grow heavy, your belly bulge, your cheeks take on a ruddy, dewy glow, the telltale mark of his success, his devotion. He’ll wake up every morning wrapped in the scent of your body, your hormones, his palm finding sanctuary on your soft, warm belly. He’ll bury his face in your throat and you’ll smile and the sun will warm the golden spot where a new life grows.
Fuck, he’ll never let you do laundry again. You could hurt your back.
Your head spins at the wet slap of his balls against your clit, the obscene squelch of your pussy around his impressive length, the way he grabs at you. He’s greedy, hands mapping each rib, each vertebrae, every curve and contour that makes you.
Your pussy sucks him in, just as needy, breathless moans and squeals punching out of your throat as you croak out pleas: Joel, baby, please. I want a baby so badly. Wanna have your baby. Please, please, fill me up! And Joel listens, his palm sliding around your waist and down your belly, rubbing your sensitive clit with two fingers.
A real man gives his wife everything she wants.
He moans at the feeling of your cunt squeezing him, his fingers wet and insistent against your little clit, coaxing you toward your climax. “C’mon,” he grunts, “come for me, baby. Fuckin’ choke me. Wanna feel it. Come and I’ll give you the baby you want so goddamn bad. C’mon, baby.”
His words seep into your bloodstream, an uncontrollable tremor racking your body, your arms giving out as he bends over you and sinks his teeth into your shoulder. “Ohhhh, God! Oh my—!”
Joel’s hands squeeze your tits, his entire body covering yours, a warm, protective blanket, slick with sweat and heart thundering against your back. His lips are on your skin, feverishly kissing and nipping. You can’t breathe, can’t move, and it feels so fucking good. You soak his cock, muscles seizing, pinned down by his strong body.
“Fuck, that’s it,” he groans. “That’s it, baby. Goddamn, keep on squeezin’ me like that. Not gonna leave this tight pussy until you're fuckin’ pregnant.”
“Joelllll,” you whine, your orgasm prolonged by his words, his unrelenting thrusts, the jolt of his balls slapping your clit. “Want it so bad. Wanna give you a baby. Come inside me, please. Please give me your cum, oh, God—”
The broken sound of your voice, weak and raspy, goes straight to his dick, and his balls are pulling up, his head bombarded with the smell of sex, perfume, linen, you. He rests his forehead between your shoulder blades as you milk his cock, turning his thrusts sloppy and desperate. He needs to come. He needs to make it real.
Your orgasm leaves you pliant and loose in his arms, and he fondles your tits, squeezing them hard in his hands as he pictures them growing, swelling heavy with milk he’ll feed your baby. His baby. Idly, you moan, letting him use your body to get off, his teeth grazing your neck.
“Gonna come. Gonna fuckin’ fill you up, give you a baby. Gonna—Jesus, goddamn—”
Maybe it's the pent-up frustration of not having come all day. Maybe it's a renewed sense of purpose, knowing he's got a job to do, keeping every drop safe inside you. Maybe it's the sheer fucking excitement of getting to give his wife what he's wanted to put in you for so long. But when he comes, hips flush to your ass, he comes so much, for so long, that the rapid rush of blood from his cock back up to his head has him nearly keeling.
Kissing your cervix, the head of his cock spurts rope after rope of hot cum inside you, and you mewl, your back arching to deepen the angle, luxuriate in the liquid warmth. Joel isn’t so loud now, not so cocky. He’s reduced to strained groans and whimpers as your body depletes him, greedily taking every drop of cum he has to offer.
It feels like minutes before it finally stops, but with your ass up in the air, none of his cum spills out. Your hips are sore, your ass bruises from his hands, your tits still sitting warmly in his hands. The cool kiss of his wedding band soothes the too-hot press of his body on top of yours, your doubly-slick skin meeting indecently. His lips are on the back of your neck and he thrusts shallowly, wringing the last of his cum from the tip until he's wholly empty and bordering on oversensitive.
You're the first to speak, your throat clogged with drool and some of your own tears.
“Thank fuck I was at the bar that night.”
Joel’s laugh scrapes down your spine along with his beard as he drags himself upright, knowing he’s crushing you. “Never would've had to patch me up”
“Mmm, you're sexy when you're mad,” you point out, your thighs twitching as he carefully guides you onto your side, back to his chest, his cock still acting as a plug for his cum. You’re deliciously full, and you hum happily at the feeling of his warm belly against you, his big arms cradling you close.
“Shouldn't enable violence,” he grumbles. His lashes flutter against your shoulder.
You roll your eyes. “Oh, please.”
He chuckles. “You feel okay?”
“I feel good,” you muse, running your fingers along his forearm, the prominent veins under his skin. “I feel excited.”
His grin curves against your skin, the scratch of his moustache sending a shiver up your spine. Outside, the sun begins to dip, and your twin golden rings glimmer in the fiery light.
“Me, too,” he whispers, and you lace your fingers through his, squeezing, both of you practically giddy.
There’s a lull, and for a moment, you think he’s fallen asleep. The sun creeps behind a home across the street, and its watch ends for another day.
“Hey, Joel?”
His mouth meets your throat in a sleepy kiss. “Yeah, baby?”
“I like the name Sarah.”
THE END.
tags: @cavillscurls @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @cupofjoel @northernbluess @tieronecrush @joelmillers-whore @bastardmandennis - thank you all so so much for showing excitement for this fic!! kisses for you all 🫶
#kiwisbell's fics#pedro pascal#joel miller#joel miller x reader#the last of us#joel miller smut#joel miller fic#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller fluff#joel miller fanfiction#pre outbreak!joel#joel miller x you#joel miller x female reader
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Waiting Game
Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader
Summary: Joel Miller has mastered the art of self-control in all areas except one: not fucking his friend’s daughter. A cross-country road trip home from college takes a hard turn when he’s forced to share a motel room with you.
Warnings: 18+. Protected p-in-v. Praise. Overstimulation. Sweet, possessive, slightly obsessive and pussywhipped Joel. Daddy kink. Drug use. Angst. Accidental creampie. Joel fucking you while on the phone with your father.
Part 2 | Part 3
“You okay, hon? You sound…distracted,” your dad presses. A hint of concern rises from his end of the line.
At length, Joel grips both of your legs and brings them up over his shoulders, and he grins before kissing your ankle and shoving his cock even deeper.
“Yes!” you yelp as you crush the phone to your ear, hoping your father can’t hear any of the filthy sounds down below, “Just a little stretched—I mean stressed out, is all.”
Aside from the fact that he smoked like a chimney and bumped far more Billy Joel than any man ever should, Mr. Miller was an A-OK friend—your father’s best friend.
All you needed was a ride home for the holidays.
From the second you’d set foot in his old Ford Bronco, you sensed this trek wouldn’t be an enjoyable one—thirty-hour road trips rarely ever were—but you leaned back in the passenger seat, propped your feet on the dashboard, and bopped along to ‘You May Be Right’ for the fifty-fifth fucking time that morning and smiled.
Joel frowned.
“Dogs off the dash,” he muttered, swatting at your bare, polished toes before you kicked his touch away.
“Shotgun puts her feet up, driver shuts his cakehole.”
That wasn’t even how the saying went. Oh well.
Joel slowed the car to sixty in the right-hand lane and smacked your ankles even harder. You yelped.
“Hey! You can’t hit a woman!”
“I’m not hitting a woman, I’m hitting a little gremlin,” Joel tried not to grin as he delivered another tart slap to your foot, and you almost jerked into the passenger door.
He momentarily righted the car before it went veering into the lane beside it, seized one of your feet, and tried to forcibly shove it off the dashboard, to no avail. As soon as he moved one limb, the other would glide right back up to take its place; Joel’s hands were big, but they weren’t massive enough to grab hold of both of your legs at once and make you stay the fuck there, Christ’s sake.
You liked to see him flustered. Brought a whole new hue to his tough, stubbled cheeks that folks rarely got to see. You squirmed in your seat when he reached for your side.
“Wh—NO! No tickling!” you cried, trying your hardest to roll away.
But the man was nothing if not a lover of cheap shots and filthy antics. He’d never played a clean game in his life and wasn’t about to start now.
His gaze darted from the road to your writhing form, pinned against the door and begging him to stop, while he pressed his foot harder on the gas and smirked.
“Too much?” he teased, “Say pretty, pretty please.”
In other words: give up. You would do no such thing. Your elbow jutted out to the side and clipped his fingertips sharply, and right before he could reach for you again, you were heaving yourself up and leaning almost halfway out the open window, trying to shy away from his touch.
“You fuckin’ nuts?! Get down!” he yelled.
“But it just may be a luuuunatic you’re lookin’ for!” you sang along to your old friend Billy Joel and pretended not to see, or hear, Joel Miller twisting desperately across the center console to take hold of your belt loops.
“Get—I swear to God, kid—DOWN!”
Joel had just managed to finagle a loose, feeble grip on your denim waistband as he tried to keep the car from soaring across three lanes of traffic, was just about to yank you back inside and give you a red-faced, fatherly lecture of a lifetime, when a sound startled you both.
A siren, and a set of flashing blue lights behind you.
You scrambled back in your seat and swallowed a lump in your throat the size of a peach. You turned off Mr. Long Island.
“Great! Good fucking going,” Joel griped beside you as he flicked on his blinker and started to pull off the road.
Dogs no longer on the dash—and a very pissed off cop pulling up behind your car on the shoulder of the road—you got the feeling this would be a long couple of days.
You hadn’t even made it outside the city limits of Boston.
Somewhere between Richmond and Roanoke, the two of you turned off the highway to find a place to sleep.
Joel had sat and stewed and ignored you for the customary duration of about two hours before choosing to re-engage in conversation, but deep down, you knew he was still kind of irked by that reckless driving citation he’d received. You couldn’t help but feel responsible.
Though it had been pretty funny when the state trooper had approached the car and pointedly asked, “What the hell was your daughter doin’ danglin’ outta this thing?!” Joel was nowhere near as amused as you, but he managed to roll with it and told the cop you were just trying to wave to the cows in the fields passing by.
The police officer hadn’t bought it.
He probably would have arrested you both if you hadn’t been such a coquettish flirt and somehow managed to persuade the man to let your ‘dad’ off with just a ticket.
You had hoped that would temper Joel’s anger some, but if anything, the sight only seemed to make him more mad at you. You weren’t sure why.
Presently, you pulled up to Balmaceda’s Mountain Lodge and cast a bleak look at the front office before you.
This looked nothing like the snug, homespun mountain retreat you’d been picturing in your mind. Ahead of your car, there stood a single-story concrete slab of a motel, tilted to one side and consumed almost entirely by the dark of night and wide open wilderness. A big block letter neon sign displaying the owner’s name in red now barely flickered above a muddied, pinkish glow. You groaned.
But before you could complain to your travel companion, Joel was already stepping out of the car and heading toward the main office. Hastily, you followed after.
“No way, Miller. No fucking way are we staying in Murder Motel,” you hissed.
“Bal-ma-ceda’s,” Joel intoned with a maddeningly accurate lilt, ignoring your protests, “I think that’s a Chilean name.”
He swung the door wide for you to enter and pretended not to see you shoot him a glare as you strolled in.
“Needin’ a room?”
The lady behind the counter barely graced your entrance with a look.
“Yes ma’am. Whatever you got,” Joel replied, smiling.
“Smoking or non?”
“Smoking, please.”
Of course he would. You could already feel the fetid stench of American Spirits wafting up to your nostrils.
“King or two Queens?”
“Queens,” you and Joel answered in unison.
At first, the woman nodded, flicked through a rolodex on her desk and nosed through a couple yellowed pages in front of her. Then, frowning, she looked back up.
“Sorry. All the Queens are took up. Rest of the rooms are being fumigated but the one—” she tapped a manicured nail on the motel map, “—and it’s got a King. That okay?”
No. No, it was not. You opened your mouth to speak but were shortly cut off by the woman before you could.
“Of course, if you don’t want dad hoggin’ up all the sheets, there’s a pull-out sofa for him to sleep on.”
The sixty-something desk clerk offered a smile, and you likely would’ve returned the favor if you hadn’t been so deeply nauseated at the thought of everyone around you assuming that Joel was your father. You chanced a look at the man, who seemed equally uncomfortable as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. You sighed.
“Alright.”
Defeated, but marginally pleased that you wouldn’t have to share a bed with your ‘old man’ that night.
Joel paid and signed the papers without another word, or look, to you or the woman. By the looks of it, he just wanted to book the room and get the hell out as fast as possible, his brow pinched inward and lips zipped tight.
He’d turned to leave so quick that he was almost approaching the door when the lady called out,
“Mr. Miller! You forgot your keys.”
You hardly needed to steal a glance in Joel’s direction to see that he was flushed. Even blushing a bit.
You strode over to the counter and intercepted the keys she was dangling for someone to take, then politely, finally, were able to manage a smile and a thank-you.
You turned back to Joel.
“Here you go, Daddy.”
In a blink, the small silver set was pelted in his hands, and the man nearly dropped them—and lost his balance. By some miracle, Joel managed to catch them between his big sweaty palms and step aside just in time for you to saunter past him, straight through the door.
“I’m starved,” you announced, then, averting your face to hide your smug expression and lower your voice a bit, “Feed me, Daddy.”
In that moment, Joel thanked every last one of his lucky stars that his pants were made of denim, and that the denim itself was thick. And that the woman at the front desk was swift to turn her attention back to her tabloid magazine, away from you two, and didn’t look up again.
If they weren’t, and if she hadn’t, it would’ve been plain as day to see that Joel Miller was sporting a hard-on.
A huge, swollen hard-on that made it almost impossible for him to walk and haul luggage and try to keep apace with your steps as you sailed along the gravel drive. So big the man had to will himself not to limp, not to make it known how stiff he was, until he eventually failed at both.
Once you’d grabbed your bags back at the car and made it up to your place, you entered Room 102 with a lightness you hadn’t felt all day. Joel slogged behind with all of the baggage and a boner beneath his jeans that probably could’ve cut sheet metal, if needed.
He was fucked. No doubt he’d have to enlist in the Witness Protection Program after your real father found out that his best friend had gotten visibly bricked up for you, his one and only daughter. How awkward holiday dinners were bound to be from that point on; how humiliating it seemed to him to pop a chub at a thing as dumb as saying ‘daddy’; how batshit insane it was that he hadn’t gotten laid in almost a year, and you were still, somehow, the only one he wanted to break the dry spell.
Joel was better than this. A fucking pro at self-control and all things dirty old guys didn’t do. He could chill out.
He just needed to rub one out in the bathroom, fast.
So, while you flopped down on the bed, Joel dropped every bag and made a beeline for the toilet. Slammed the door so hard he probably could’ve knocked the thing off its hinges, but he didn’t care. He was wrestling his belt, button, and zip off in a second. Then haphazardly turning on the sink to mask the sounds of all that was to come. No pun intended.
He yanked his thick, throbbing, rock-hard member out of its confines and had to hiss through his teeth to keep from moaning. The sensitivity he felt was unbearable, the front of his boxers already painted with pre-cum.
Gingerly, Joel wrapped one hand around his cock and raised the other to anchor himself against the sink. He slid his palm, which he’d just barely lubricated with some spit of his, up and down the shaft and groaned. A welt of pleasure formed in his chest, and he rubbed even faster. And, in spite of his legs feeling a bit like jelly, he stood there and fucked his fist and wished with every bit of himself that it was your warm, lush folds opening around him instead. Stifled a groan and would’ve paid any sum of money to hear your moans spilling out while he thrusted. The act here was more mindless and reflexive than anything else—jerking himself and soaking in the sharp, fiery sensations that shot up through his body.
To him, at least, it was all purely physical. Mechanical.
Nowhere near as euphoric and otherworldly as it would have been with your hand actually curled around him.
Or your lips. Or your tongue. Or your tight, wet cunt.
Fuck, he needed a shower.
Blindly, Joel moved inside the tub to his left and yanked the curtain shut over a space almost two times too small for his frame. He turned on the water and made it hot. Then he fisted his cock again, pressed his head to the shower wall, and pumped himself as fast as his forearm would allow him—trying all the while not to think of you.
You, with all your wily, shrewd ways were still the daughter of the man who guzzled down IPAs with him at the local dive bar every Thursday night over jalapeño poppers and buffalo dip. The man who clapped him over the shoulder and shook his frame with the kind of good-natured sneer that only a best friend could make, ‘A man as suave as you oughta get some tail every now and then. Go find you a gal and fuck her brains out, Joel!’
But the only ‘gal’ Joel wanted to rail was the one who called that man ‘dad’—and just called him ‘daddy’ for the first time that night—and he hated himself for it.
Sparks of pleasure continued to ignite across his lower half as he jerked himself in the shallowest, short pumps. He flicked his hand back and forth, circled the tip with his palm, and felt a groan start to claw at his throat. He tried to picture any face but yours but failed miserably.
All he could think, see, or breathe was you—imagining your lips enveloping the head of his cock, jerking him softly, taking him down to the back of your throat and bobbing that pretty little face up and down his length.
That sweaty, desperate fist of his just wasn’t cutting it.
For the first time, Joel couldn’t make himself cum.
Now even more pent-up and pussywhipped than he’d been when he first started, he slammed his palm against the wall and flung the shower handle in the opposite direction—turning the water as cold as it could get.
Five minutes passed, and the icy spray had scarcely left a dent in his raging erection. Joel stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his hips, and stood in front of the mirror to see that he was still very hard.
Fuck this.
He bunched his strewn aside clothing together and held it over his crotch, discreet as he could, and waddled out.
And, either the temperature inside had just jumped fifty degrees or the world outside had just caught fire, but Joel’s face was flooded with heat the second he exited.
You were sprawled across the bed wearing nothing but a thin white tank, shorts, and fuzzy socks—and a scowl.
“Sofa’s broke,” you said.
Joel blinked.
“Broke?”
You nodded toward the busted sleeper couch at the far end of the room, torn to pieces and kicked a half-dozen times since you’d tried unfolding it in Joel’s absence.
The jaws of the old steel frame had simply refused to give way, and now the sofa was so out of sorts and misshapen that you had no hope of putting it back the way that it was. You sank further in the bed and pointed to the floor.
“You can sleep there.”
Joel eyed a flat sheet and a pillow laid across the carpet, visibly coated in dust and grime. He turned back to you.
“You’re smokin’ crack if you think I’m doin’ that.”
“Be grateful I’m not making you sleep in the car, daddy.”
Again with that fucking name. Joel tightened his grip on the clothes he was holding over his dick and tried to fight a thousand dirty thoughts threatening to seep back into his head.
Unfortunately, the dirty thoughts had hands—and were beating his ass to a bloody pulp when he first caught sight of your nipples poking up through your shirt. Just when the man might have started to drool or else begun humping that pile of clothes, you snapped your fingers.
“Miller Lite. Eyes up here.”
Fuck.
“Got a…stain on your shirt,” he grumbled in his defense.
“Shut up. Now, we can flip for the bed if you want.”
By turns, Joel’s focus was slowly coming back, and the man was trying like hell to find a place on your face that didn’t arouse him to no end—to help ease the intrusive thoughts and all. So far his search had yielded nothing.
“Like, uh…coin?” he asked. Endearingly stupid.
“Heads, I win,” you said, nodding, “Tails…”
Joel swallowed.
“Tails, what?”
“Tails, you tell me what was going on in your head when you were jacking off to the thought of me just now.”
Your words came out in a hurry, almost too quick for Joel to comprehend. He still heard them, though, and nearly choked on his spit when he tried to swallow again.
“I wasn’t—”
“You were,” you bit back, “I heard you moan my name.”
Joel didn’t remember that. Joel didn’t remember much of anything that had taken place in that bathroom apart from being implacably horny and unable to bust a nut. You stepped off the bed to stand in front of him.
“What? Cat got your tongue all of a sudden?” you sneered, “Think I’m just gonna run off and tell my da—”
“Don’t,” Joel’s response was immediate, insistent. Then, setting his jaw in a way you knew too well, contemplating about fifty different thoughts in the span of two seconds, he pressed the clothes pile to his crotch even tighter and sighed, “Don’t…do that, please. I’ll take the floor.”
You raised both brows, mildly amused.
“I said we could flip for it. C’mon,” you said.
“Ain’t got any coins.” Joel was already retreating to his makeshift sleeping pad on the floor, eyeing the shag carpet for any traces of blood, piss, or rodent droppings. Before he made it too far, you reached for his arm.
Joel tensed under your touch.
“We can try something else.” Your voice was cloying, almost too sweet to be trusted.
It had just dawned on you then how bare the man standing before you was. Clad in only his towel, every taut, toned inch of Joel’s body was there on display—coated with sweat and a fine sheen from the shower, his skin practically shone in the glow of the bedside lamp. You watched him shift in place and saw the towel around his hips stir along with it. He never let those old clothes in his hands move an inch away from his groin, though.
“What game?” he asked.
“Something my roommates showed me,” you began, “‘Too Hot.’”
“Too Hot?”
“You heard me.”
“What, like— like Spin the Bottle, or some bullshit?”
Joel could just picture it: a gaggle of your college pals huddled around an old, empty bottle of Bud Light as you watched it turn circles again, and again, and again on the dorm’s linoleum floor. You tugging at the sleeve of some oversized man-child from a frat Joel couldn’t name, leaning in and beaming like the insatiable flirt he knew you to be, asking that boy if he wanted to sneak off somewhere and let his tongue take a tour of your mouth.
The thought made Joel’s stomach turn.
Presently, you wrinkled your nose up at him.
“Spin the Bottle? That’s rookie shit,” you made another face reminding Joel, once more, how little he knew of the life you lived 1,900 miles away from Austin, at college.
He still couldn’t shake the thought of those boys.
“No, Joel,” you shook your head, drawing your syllables out for effect, “‘Too Hot’ is just…edging your opponent.”
Joel’s throat tightened, and he tried not to let his eyes widen too much, but he was almost certain they had. Before he even knew the words he was saying, the thought of your father taking his fist—or a shotgun—to his face made him blurt out in response, stammering,
“We can’t— I can’t— can’t lay one finger on you, darlin’, you know that. Your dad would murder me.”
To his surprise, the smile on your face only widened.
“Bingo,” You stuck one pretty finger in his face like he’d made the world’s finest discovery, “You can’t touch me.”
“Huh?”
“That’s the whole fuckin’ game, Miller. We can kiss, but we can’t touch each other with our hands. First one to crack and grope the other player loses the game.”
Your expression now was something just shy of sadistic. Watching him with keen, narrowed eyes and a wicked little grin, it seemed you were half-expecting him to fold on the spot. No way was this a game your college friends taught you; you just wanted to play him. Make him lose.
And Joel was a man who couldn’t stand to lose, no matter the stakes.
You watched that failure-averse glint eclipse every shade of lust in his eyes, at least momentarily. Suddenly, Joel didn’t look so fearful of your father’s wrath or what lurid implications this night might bring—he just had to win.
“You suck, you know that?” he said, at last, dropping his makeshift shield from the front of his towel and knocking you flat on the bed with a single push.
“You wish I would,” you grumbled, heart still jumping up in your ribcage all the same. You scooted back.
“I bet you will.”
The man was a menace when he had the will to be.
At length, Joel crawled over your body and made room for himself snug between your legs. The bulge that he’d been trying to hide all this time was now heavy on your center, pressed tight to your stupid-thin shorts and the panties you’d conveniently forgotten to wear. He grinned.
“Are tongues allowed?” he hummed.
“Everything but hands,” you shrugged.
Try as you might to play it cool with him, though, every fibre of your being was alight with desire for the man on top of you. You flitted a look between his soft brown eyes and slightly parted lips and could’ve melted in that bed had Joel not lowered his head and dove right in for it.
His mouth was far gentler than expected. Reverent, even. He slotted his lips between your own and made a fine, delicate showing of just how tender and adept he could be while imparting his slow, sweet kisses. Skirted his tongue across your bottom lip before driving it inside, coaxed your mouth open to him in a matter of seconds. He was graceful. And patient. And lithe with that tongue.
Joel Miller was showing off for you—the bastard.
“Sweet little thing,” he groaned against your mouth, “Ain’t felt a tongue this shy on mine in a long time.”
Of course he’d try taunting you, too. Same old Joel.
“What’s it been? Two years since a woman let you touch her?”
“Twenty since I felt one this good.”
You would’ve liked to reach around the back of his head and seize a clump of that thick, dark, grey-speckled hair. But you couldn’t. Your hands remained plastered to the duvet beneath you, and then, just slightly, your fingers started to curl inward. Joel’s palms laid flat on either side of your head.
It felt weird; mashing lips, teeth, and tongue with a man who’d been alive about twenty years longer than you and went further back with your father than you could even remember. What felt even stranger was the fact that you couldn’t touch him, or take him between your two hands.
Joel’s tongue continued roaming every contour and crevice of your mouth like he had an ache for this taste that he just couldn’t quench. Your tongue tried keeping up, too, but frankly, you were too preoccupied by a pulse between your legs—your parts and Joel’s practically throbbing in time with one another—to work just as hard.
Even through the towel, he felt huge.
You whined when Joel started to grind up against you, and shortly, those fingers of yours that had just been grazing the sheets before were gripping them. Tight.
“Earlier…” Joel murmured between kisses, hips working a vicious pace against you, “You said you were hungry.”
“Yeah?”
“Sorry—starved,” he corrected himself, and you almost could’ve smacked him for being so smug about it.
“What’s your point, Miller?” You were fisting the sheets beneath your palms and gyrating your whole body to meet the motions of the man currently dry-humping you.
All of a sudden, Joel’s movements stopped.
He peered down at you with a curious look.
“I could go for something to eat, too,” he declared.
You blinked. Stared. And just when you’d opened your mouth to say, well, maybe you should’ve grabbed us a bite to eat when we passed that Burger King on the way in, dipshit, Joel’s torso started to move down your own. Slow and painstaking as ever as he made sure not to graze one inch of your skin with his hands while he did.
You leapt back against the headboard, almost cracking your skull on the wood.
“Joel— Joel,” you hissed as the heels of your feet dug into the mattress below, and Joel just sank even further.
Then he was slowly, scrupulously pinching the fabric of your shorts between each index finger and thumb, gaze trained close on your lower half to make sure he never touched you, and he started pulling it down.
“This isn’t—” you started again, only to be offered a soft shush and an even quieter rustle of the cotton material sliding down both your legs.
You dropped your head on a pillow and probably could’ve burned a hole in the ceiling with the wide-eyed look you fixed on one spot, in utter disbelief of what he was doing.
“No panties, huh?” Joel observed. Gentle puffs of his breath were now fanning across the whole bare expanse of your lower half, and your pyjama bottoms were shortly discarded. His face was just hovering there, and you could tell that he knew you knew by the way he lowered his voice and brought his head to have only the tips of his chin stubble grazing your abdomen, “You needed this.”
Some lone remnant of ire flashed in your eyes.
“I don’t need shit from you, Miller. You need me. And you’re gonna lose this.”
Even though your gaze was still trained to the ceiling, you could feel him grin against your delicate skin.
“Hey,” he mumbled, “You said tongues are fair game.”
Fuck me, you wanted to keen the second his lips made contact with your…lower ones, and Joel swiftly got to kissing you there just as he’d done to you above. Hot, soft, and tender as the first rays of morning sun heralding a new day, he sponged his lips across the seam of your heat and made as if to massage the place, gently.
You could hear as well as you could feel that effusion of desire leaking out of your cunt and pooling around the man’s mouth. How eager he was to lap it up with his tongue, to grace your ears with those delectable squelching sounds, he caressed every inch between your folds and only sank deeper when you whined above him.
“Joel.”
Right now you couldn’t look down. Not with the way your legs were already trembling around his head, your chest heaving with the fastest, most frenzied breaths. You’d sooner die before you watched him unravel you like this.
“Darlin’, you’ve got a man soaked.” Some sound almost resembling a chuckle reverberated between your thighs and sent a brand new shockwave of pleasure in its wake, “You like it when daddy uses his mouth on this needy, wet cunt, don’t you?”
Yes, yes, you did. But your answer was nonverbal: a sharp curl of your toes and a grip between your fingers so tight across the sheets that he saw you veritably could’ve torn the linens in two.
Neither of you had laid a hand on the other.
Joel was perfectly content to make do with his mouth for now.
“Got those sheets all balled up, you’re fixin’ to rip ‘em.”
“My tongue make ya feel that good, honey?”
“Poor thing can’t even breathe it feels so nice, right?”
So he’d seen you hiccup, try to steady your breaths, and fail before succumbing to a string of lewd moans. Joel saw you, and knew how you felt, as if he’d had his own secret gauge for how good his mouth was doing you in.
Surely, he could’ve sensed the words before they ever came out of your mouth.
“Touch me, Joel, please.”
His tongue was just then making a lazy circuit around your clit, mouth saturated in your juices, when he smiled.
“Nah.”
Curt and cruel as ever. Then:
“No matter how fuckin’ perfect this pussy is, I ain’t losin’.”
He completed the arc with his tongue and took your bud between his lips, sucking in. You almost screamed.
“Motherfucker.”
“Miller, baby, Miller. Close, though.”
And just when you thought he’d had his fill of cheeky games, Joel sucked your clit even harder and flicked the tip of his tongue against your bundle of nerves until you were writhing, crying on the bed above him,
“JoelbabypleasebabyfuckmefuckohfuckitfeelsoGOOD.”
It was a bit tough to decipher through your strangled, desperate moans, but Joel got the picture. Heeding your requests, he kept at that pace above your clit and slid his tongue back and forth, over and over, lapping up your honeyed glaze like it was the finest thing he’d tasted. Scruff harsh against your thighs, lips soft in a perfect suction, Joel Miller had your head swimming in desire and your better judgment dissipating before your eyes.
At the first sign of bliss, your muscles clenched, and the last linchpin of your resolve crumbled right along with it.
You carded your hands through Joel’s hair and grabbed hold of those locks with a full-throated moan, using his head for shameless leverage to buck and rut your hips into his face as you rode out the peaks of your high.
And, ever the gentleman, Joel fought like hell to keep his lips and tongue connected to your core while you writhed above him—this time at liberty to work his arms under your thighs and hold them since you’d given up the game. He would’ve smiled if he weren’t so narrowly preoccupied, seeing you thrash about and moan out loud and fuck his face like it was the last thing tethering you to earth. He liked seeing you come undone beneath him.
A bit too much, if he were being completely honest.
While you made the languid descent from ecstasy and your breaths were still slowing in your chest on the bed, Joel was back on his feet. Padding toward the bathroom door, slamming it shut behind him as he had before. When he returned in a minute or two, he was clothed. He fished for his keys in the pockets of his snug, stonewash Wranglers and made a face. He didn’t look at you.
“I’ll be back,” he said, starting toward the door.
“Back?” You sat up, perplexed, “The hell ya goin’?”
“Out.”
This motherfucker.
“Did I miss something? Were we not just seconds away from getting down to some how’s-your-father?”
Joel visibly grimaced at your choice of sex slang. Under the circumstances, you would concede it wasn’t ideal.
“O-kay, sorry,” you returned, crossing your legs out in front of you, “I mean…don’t you want me to get you off?”
Again, Joel’s expression twisted into something just shy of overwrought, weary, and repulsed—a look that you couldn’t begin to understand, for the life of you—and you watched him flit his eyes from the bed to the door, again and again, seeming to be pining for the sweet release of leaving your shared motel room as soon as possible.
You’d been with your fair share of emotionally avoidant fucksticks, but most of them didn’t ghost until after they’d gotten their nut and felt no reason to stick around. Joel’s exit seemed premature. Strange.
“So you don’t want to fuck?” you asked, deadpan. You’d never been one for beating around the bush.
“Can’t,” Joel shook his head, bringing one hand to rest on his hip while the other fiddled uncomfortably with his car keys, “Your dad…that’s just— that’s crossing a line.”
“And being nose-deep in my cunt isn’t?”
You stared him down, incredulous.
So now he decides to claim the moral high ground, after coaxing you to soak every inch of his beard and cum all over his tongue? How very fucking charitable of him.
“That’s different,” Joel retorted, rubbing his knuckles in a nervous tic, “That was a game. I won. We’re done.”
You set your jaw just tight enough to keep your tongue in check and refrained from firing off a brash, unsavory remark. It wouldn’t do either of you a lick of good.
You let him leave. Joel had told you that you could keep the bed, he didn’t mind, and then he slipped out the door without another word. Leaving you cold and alone on the soiled, tawdry floral bedspread of Room 102, wondering what the hell had gone so wrong in the span of the last five minutes. From the center of the bed, you could see Joel’s Bronco pull off into the silent, frigid night.
You were still hungry as shit.
Rolling onto your side and rummaging through the bags at the end of the bed, you found nothing even remotely edible—save for, literally, one of Joel’s brownie edibles—and you groaned out loud. You threw your shorts back on, stepped into your old Luccheses, and did a quick circuit around the room to find your jacket before you left. As it turned out, you’d forgotten it back in Joel’s car.
You dropped to your knees and went back to tearing through luggage, searching for some suitable outerwear.
By the end of that second suitcase foray, though, you found you had nothing of your own that was hefty enough to brave the below-freezing temperatures outside, so you had to settle on a dark brown, fleece-lined coat from Joel’s bag. It was durable enough but about four sizes too big—and reeked of cigarette smoke.
You trudged outside, not really knowing where you were going or what you were hoping to find. Your stomach growled, and a few cool gusts of wind came to lap at the bare skin of your thighs where Joel’s spit was still drying.
You stepped a few feet out and turned toward the road.
Bal-ma-ceda’s, you read the seedy neon sign and heard Joel’s enunciation of the name ring between your ears.
What you wouldn’t give for the greasiest, girthiest, barely-FDA-approved 7-Eleven corndog to kill your thoughts about that sleazy little fucker right now.
You started toward the convenience store across the street but quickly found that it was closed—along with every other establishment on that stretch of road. You glanced toward the front office and caught a glimpse of your old friend dozing behind the counter. The speakers outside were playing a tinny rendition of ‘Piano Man.’
Just as you tried not to barf in your mouth at the sound and silently primed yourself for a long, long trek through the boonies to the nearest gas station, you stopped.
In a compact little breezeway that cleaved the motel in two, you saw light pool around an old vending machine.
You almost fell over yourself trying to get to it.
Never mind the fact that there were about half a dozen ragtag teens decked out in camouflage and comically tattered denim cutoffs crowding the area. All absently smoking and blowing o’s, or else sipping on cans of beer in the cramped, concrete passage, they looked bored. A couple lazy smiles broke out upon seeing your approach.
You nodded back and sidled up to the snack dispenser.
Then you zeroed in on the first sugar-packed products you could find: a pack of sour gummy worms and a bottle of Sprite—no, Mountain Dew—and a chocolate bar. Maybe a bag of Cheetos or Fritos thrown in for good measure. All of the snacks were probably stale as shit and hadn’t seen a replacement since dinosaurs roamed the earth, but you didn’t care. You were prying singles out of your wallet and salivating before you could think.
“Gotta kick it a couple times ‘fore it’ll spit anything out,” one of the boys lounging around you piped up.
You’d just inserted a couple bills and were waiting for the machine to dispense your gummy worms, when the thing appeared to stall. Stuck in its tracks, like he’d said.
You raised a brow and tapped the toe of your boot to the appliance, turning toward the one who’d addressed you,
“Like this?”
“Nope. Nuh-uh.” The redhead got up and strode over, where his much bigger, square-toed boot delivered a kick to the vending machine that almost toppled it.
A bag of Trolli Sour Brite Crawlers dropped out.
The kid—who actually happened to be nineteen years old and a student at some college a few states away, along with his whole group of friends—was kind enough to repeat the same ritual for all of your treats. You’d just gathered your stuff together and were about to thank him for his services, when the guy presently stuck a hand in your direction and introduced himself as Connor.
Then Blake. Then Micah. Then Wyatt. Then Trent. All traveling with their team for a tournament that weekend.
Then a beer was held out to you. You declined. A little homemade deer jerky? No, thanks. How ‘bout some Oreos? I’m good on snacks, really. Well, shit, you seem a little high-strung, why don’t you take a hit right here? And Connor pulled his dab pen out from his pocket.
Well.
You hadn’t smoked in a minute. You might’ve decided to take a bite out of Joel’s brownie back in the room, but you hadn’t known how strong it was—or where the fuck he’d gotten it. The pen this stranger was offering you was one that looked similar enough to the kinds you’d seen passed among your friends a hundred times before that you felt comfortable taking one hit, maybe. Two max.
You felt stupid as soon as you’d sucked in every breath, but you ended up taking four hits in total.
You hacked and sputtered and blinked up at Connor, who was grinning big.
“Alright, hardass,” he chuckled, taking back the device.
“Daddy know you smoke?” Wyatt cut in with a sneer.
Daddy?
There was no fucking way Joel looked that old for everyone to think he was your father. You inwardly cringed.
“Y’all been spying on us?”
“Ain’t shit else to do around here.” That was Blake.
You tried to swallow but found your throat much drier than it had been before. And not just from the weed.
“He doesn’t care,” you said, managing a shrug.
It wasn’t entirely false. Joel did give no fucks about you.
“Dude looks like a— a fuckin’ DEA agent or something,” Micah said, amused.
“Like that guy from Narcos,” Trent snickered.
You’d never seen the show and didn’t particularly care to know what law enforcement archetype Joel appeared to embody—in fact, you didn’t want to discuss him at all.
Just as the first fuzzy beads of warmth began to roll into your head, you were already planning your exit strategy. Thank Connor for his selfless assistance and cannabis, bid the group a good night and the best of luck in their upcoming lax tournament, and be done with this shit, ASAP. You were still trying to steady your tongue in the bone-dry cavern that had become your mouth when one of them kicked at a near-empty case of beer at their feet.
“We’re about out.” Micah announced.
Seconds later, Connor was turning to you.
“Wanna…restock in our room?” he asked, the corners of his lips twisting into a smile as he looked down at you.
You crinkled your nose and shook your head. Connor leaned his whole weight against the vending machine between you, seeming unconvinced by your answer.
“I don’t believe you,” he said, “I think you wanna come.”
“Do I?”
You only entertained the backtalk because your brain was currently swimming in a far-off, pleasant void of contentment and indifference. Every sharp edge dulled in your mind, to an extent, and your body at ease. You didn’t have to be home to anyone, anytime, and Joel was probably halfway plastered at a dive bar down the road. You didn’t move back when Connor stepped forward.
He wasn’t even that close. You could leave whenever you pleased.
“For sure. I think you’d enjoy our shitty beer and even shittier company. We can smoke some more, too.”
The man certainly had a way with words. He muscled in a bit closer.
“You think so?” you hummed.
“I do. I really do.”
“And you’re willing to risk the wrath of my dad if he finds out where I am?” You made it sound like a challenge.
“Wyatt can fight.”
Connor motioned toward his friend, who was mindlessly chomping on deer jerky in his lawn chair off to the side, glossy-eyed and hammered. You couldn’t help but laugh.
“Okay, but make sure he’s ready. I can only stay for five.”
Connor seemed wounded as he put a hand over his heart in mock dismay.
“Only five minutes?” he griped, “Why not ten? Or twenty?”
“Six.”
“Fifteen at least.”
You folded your arms over your chest and felt an opaque haze beginning to settle over your brain. It wasn’t quite a high, just a lightness of being that drove tender little streaks up your spine. Like Joel, tickling at your sides while you writhed around in the front seat of his car.
This time you took the beer Connor offered and cracked it open. He seemed pleased—and taken by surprise—to see you down the drink in spite of the overflowing foam.
“Ten,” you returned once you’d swallowed it all.
“Twenty.”
“Honey?”
The last voice didn’t belong to anyone in the group. You turned on your heels and almost coughed up your beer.
It was Joel, of course.
Standing at the threshold of the breezeway like a surly, disconcerted parent, of all things, watching you like he’d just caught you red-handed in the most horrific of acts.
Clutched in one hand was a Burger King takeout bag.
“Daddy. Hi,” you breathed.
Apparently your attempt at casual came across more slurred than anything else, because Joel stepped closer.
‘Let’s go’ was all he said. No accusations, no threats, no outward displays of emotion found anywhere on his face. Just a gruff ‘Let’s go,’ and a free hand reaching for yours.
Instinctively, you recoiled.
“We’re just talking,” you said, gesturing behind you. If you could have seen the uniform looks of discomfort and agita, damn near treading on fear, among them all, you probably wouldn’t have bothered.
“Good. Now you’re leaving,” Joel supplied in a moment.
He was blissfully indifferent. Asserting his will in a space where, less than one hour ago, he couldn’t bear to share a room with you, much less impart a shred of dignity or care to your condition. He had nerve, that was for sure.
“I’m not leaving,” you said, a touch more venom in your voice than you intended.
Joel raised both eyebrows.
“No?”
His expression, directed to you, was infuriating.
“Fuck no,” you answered.
A few of the guys behind you sucked in a breath as if to say, ‘Okaaaaay, time to go!’ but then Joel pressed,
“For someone who wants to be treated like an adult—”
“Adult?” you scoffed, “You treat me plenty like an adult, Joel. Just whenever the designation suits your needs, huh?”
No one moved.
Well, Joel flinched a bit. Then he squeezed your wrist.
Truly, you never failed to underestimate the man’s brute strength when it came to carrying you off at will—but there you were, being yanked behind the big, bad Joel Miller as he hauled you off to who-knows-where. You scowled but didn’t bother to steal a glance behind you at the beer, boys, or vending machine treats you were being forced to abandon. All you could do was stare a hole through Joel’s skull and tug back—largely ineffectually.
“You’re an ass,” you spat, digging your heels into the gravel terrain as he pulled you along.
“You’re a brat,” he fired back.
In a minute, the exterior of Room 102 was coming into view; Joel was practically toting your ass like a knapsack.
“You just abandoned me back here, Miller. You— you don’t get to pretend like you give a fuck now.”
“I was getting you Burger King, for Christ’s sake.”
Joel was fiddling with the lock now. Simultaneously juggling your hand, the paper bag, and a set of keys that didn’t seem keen on cooperating, he huffed, disgruntled.
“Even got you those—” Joel grunted, thrusting his shoulder into the door, “—fuckin’ curly fries you wanted.”
Your jaw slackened. That was supposed to make it okay?
“Joel, FUCK your curly fries!” you cried, “Are you seriously still trying to play good guy right now?”
“If that’s what you—”
“No. You don’t get to tonguefuck your friend’s daughter and buy her a goddamn Double Whopper and act like it’s all good. Sure as hell don’t get to dictate who I talk to.”
Like he had before, Joel cringed to hear your crude language—particularly as it related to what he had done to you but didn’t seem capable of owning up to just yet. You couldn’t bear another second of that look.
“Fuck this. I’m sleeping in the car,” you grumbled.
You thrashed your arm out of Joel’s hold and started off in the other direction. Picked up your pace when you heard the bag of fast food drop to the ground and Joel trotting after you. Calling your name.
Even at your most brisk, you knew you couldn’t outstrip those big, beefy legs of his. He gained on you in seconds.
So you took off running.
Joel gripped his side, thinking, ‘Aw, hell’ before breaking out in a sprint just as fast.
You were pissed at how far he’d parked this time around. You caught sight of the old Bronco perched a ways away from your room and almost opted to change course on the spot, to the front office—maybe dive behind the counter and beg that poor old woman to give you another place to stay—but you kept at it, anyway. For once, you were glad to have had Joel beat by so many years, because the man’s endurance was, evidently, shit.
“Hey, s— stop!” Joel shouted after you.
Fat chance, Miller.
You closed in on the car. Joel rarely ever locked it.
Your hand secured a grip on the door and jerked it back. It swung right open.
Just as Joel was pulling up the rear, you had the driver’s side slammed shut and your palm laid flat on the door lock knob—shoving the little black lever down each time Joel tried to unlock the car.
It was a fruitless endeavor, you knew; you couldn’t keep the man out all night so long as he had the car keys in his hands. You could piss him off some more, though.
“You won the fucking game, just take the bed!” you said, straining against the door with your weight pressed hard on that knob. Joel was furiously working to get it open.
“I mean it, Joel, I-I don’t wanna sleep in there wi— shit.”
You leapt back in your seat as Joel flung the door wide open. You scrambled across the center console, made a desperate grasp at the passenger door to climb out the other side, but your ankle was taken between two hands. Just as you tried to slink out on the opposite end of the vehicle, Joel pulled you right back in. Flipped the center console up so you were sprawled flat across the bucket seat at the front of his car and pinned underneath him.
Then he pulled you over his lap.
Not into it—nestled on top of his crotch, with your ass pointing up in the air. Joel’s big ass Carhartt jacket was bunching up around your torso, collar crowding you up to the chin. Your twisted just far enough to meet his gaze.
“What do you want from me?” Joel demanded, “What?”
You stared up at him, poring over your options in the span of what seemed like two milliseconds. Wondering, silently, why he wasn’t touching you anywhere.
“I want you to fuck me, Joel,” you replied at length.
Seated between driver’s side and shotgun, Joel looked perfectly unperturbed, raking a hand through his silver-flecked hair and letting his gaze trail up to the ceiling, as if considering something of grave importance.
“And what after that?” he asked, still staring at the roof.
Before you could reply, though, he was forging ahead,
“What happens when I can’t even look your dad in the eye knowin’ I’ve been balls deep in his little girl, and every fuckin’ time I’m over at your house or you’re over at mine, I’ll be thinkin’— no, dreamin’ of what it was like to have you wrapped around my cock, screamin’ my name and takin’ it so deep inside you like I know ya want it?”
You paused a beat. Had to bat your eyes a couple times to rid your head of those filthy thoughts he’d planted.
“We could, uh— fuck…then…too,” you ventured quietly.
Joel grinned at the spot he was watching, humorless.
“That easy, huh?” he mumbled.
Again, before you could speak, Joel continued,
“I can’t even cum with you on my mind,” he said, and for a split second you thought that might mean he wasn’t attracted to you in that way, when he swallowed hard and closed his eyes, “I’ve tried beating off twice today—in the bathroom and as soon as I left earlier—and I can’t…even get close with you here. You fuck with my head.”
You fuck with my head.
Without meaning to, your hips stirred over his, and Joel audibly groaned. At last, he dropped a palm to your ass and gave it a taut smack, and your whole lower half reverberated with the sensation—and a welt of pleasure.
“You think I want it to be like this?” Joel said, voice strained, fingers kneading over the flesh he’d just struck, “Think I enjoy havin’ the biggest set’a fuckin’ blue balls known to man whenever I’m around ya, honey?”
You winced when you were spanked again, letting out a whimper into the seat’s charcoal-colored upholstery.
“I can help with that,” you hissed, feeling him massage the spot once more. You arched your back into his touch.
“No. You’d make it worse,” Joel shook his head, “Once I get a feel inside this sweet cunt I’ll never wanna stop.”
At the soft rumble of his words, you felt yourself growing aroused. Noticeably so. Your skin broke out in broad swaths of gooseflesh every place he touched, and in the wake of those hands grew a pool of dull warmth. Sticky, slick, soak-straight-through-your-shorts sort of warmth.
Joel’s hand hovered about an inch from the source.
“We’d get bored eventually. It’d be fine,” you said, words crawling off of your parched tongue with some difficulty now. That faint, heady feeling from before had become a high, finally, and it seemed every sense you possessed was ablaze with desire. You were barely able to breathe, much less speak, but there you went, rambling anyway,
“Soon enough, you’ll get over the thrill of screwing me, and I’ll find a nice, polite, age-appropriate boy to spend the rest of my life having nice, polite sex with, and we can both pretend like this never happened. Deal?”
It was quite possibly the dumbest offer you’d ever made.
Joel slotted his hand between your legs to rub against that dampened patch of fabric. You almost jumped.
“Yeah? Just fuck around and forget about it?” Joel spoke, and you truly couldn’t tell if it was a sneer or real sincerity, as your eyes were squeezing shut, “Is that all you want from me, sugar?”
His fingers slipped beneath your shorts and made swift, easy contact with your heat. You buried your face in the seat and tried to muffle the sounds that were clawing their way out of your chest, while your hips tilted up.
“Please, Joel,” you whimpered.
By now, your head was spinning, in a daze, that you almost didn’t notice him tug your shorts down your legs. Or take them off at your ankles. You did get a sense of when he was breaching your folds—taking two, meaty fingers and trailing them up the slick glaze of your cunt.
“Doesn’t seem like this pussy wants ‘nice and polite’ to me,” Joel murmured, eyes gradually fastening to that lovely, exposed spot pointed up to him. He wet his lips, “Needs somethin’ else, doesn’t she, darlin’?”
Speaking of your pussy in third-person wasn’t something you ever thought could be hot, but coming from Joel? While his fingers traced up and down the seal of your entrance, tips circling your tight, hot, throbbing hole? Arousing didn’t even begin to cover it.
You pushed your ass back, and Joel chuckled above you.
“Wanna fuck daddy’s fingers? Is that it?” he taunted.
No, no, no—you wanted his cock buried inside you. But now you just needed reprieve from that ache, and your senses were practically on the fritz trying to get it.
Your hips rocked back and forth over his fingers—sliding the two digits in and out of your cunt with each motion—and, as much as Joel would’ve liked to make you beg and wait a little, your desperate pleas as you fucked his hand were more than enough to satiate him. He worked his free arm under your body and pinched hard on one nipple, eliciting a soft moan of ‘Joel’ underneath him.
“Oh, baby,” he breathed, watching you rut your hips for more friction, “That’s it, baby, fuck daddy’s fingers. Use my hand to make yourself feel good— that’s my girl.”
At the last, you probably could’ve cum on the spot, and Joel could tell by the way you clenched around him. He nudged a third finger between your plush, sensitive walls and heard your moans take on an even higher pitch.
“Hurts,” you whimpered, with no real indication of pain. You just felt stretched out, stuffed, and aching again. The only ‘hurt’ was not having even more of him in you, “Need more of you daddy, please. It hurts.”
Joel wanted to see you cum on his fingers. He really did. But when you got down to begging and pleading for his cock like that, the man’s whole heartbeat throbbed in his jeans, and he simply didn’t possess the resolve to refuse.
He hoisted you upright in his lap so you were straddling his hips. The fabric of his jacket hung loose off your frame and both of your arms as you latched around him.
“Are you high?” Joel asked, voice evening out all of a sudden to pin you with a serious look.
“Yeah.”
“How high?”
“I can consent, Joel.” Your thighs tightened around his sides, and your hips had already begun to stir.
“Not just can consent—do consent. Do you want this?” Joel’s hands moved from the small of your back to cup your face. You gave him a squished-together pout.
“Yes, I want this,” you managed through pinched cheeks. When Joel released you, you lowered your own hands to the buckle of his belt.
It felt foreign and familiar at once—this age-old ritual of fumbling for each other’s clothes and wrestling to get them off, like your bodies might catch fire if you didn’t act fast enough. Joel was a tad more graceful as he shrugged his jacket off of you, peeled your tank top off, and helped you maneuver your bare limbs around him. You, on the other hand, felt half-feral and every bit the wide-eyed novice while you stripped his body garment by garment and wordlessly told him just leave the jeans, I can’t wait another fucking second. Joel bit back a grin and had to steady you above him, feeling his cock twitch against his tummy but still slowing down enough to remind you, shhh, shhh, honey, it ain’t goin’ nowhere.
You had a tough time remembering that as you rubbed your wet centre over his shaft. Feeling so good you feared the feeling might escape any second, you whined.
“I know, baby, I know,” Joel cooed as your head fell in the crook of his neck, “Still hurtin’ somethin’ awful, hm?”
The tip of his cock just barely grazed over your clit and you buried your face even deeper, nodding furiously; Joel leaned forward to grab some item out of the glove compartment behind you and braced your body to him.
He tore something with his teeth. You craned your neck just slightly.
“Don’t laugh,” Joel muttered, voice momentarily stifled by bright, metallic wrapping.
“Is that…” You straightened up enough to cock a brow at him. Joel’s tongue rolled across the inside of his cheek.
“Cobwebs and all.”
Beneath your gaze was the flimsiest, dust-ridden, damn-near vintage condom—a decade old, at least.
“You buy that before or after the Great Depression?” you teased.
“Shut up.” Joel was already working it onto his dick.
“So Prohibition-coded.”
“I can find something to shove in that mouth, y’know.”
You were having too much fun at the old man’s expense, blissfully unaware that Joel was about one Gen X joke away from making you suck three of his arousal-soaked fingers. When you opened your mouth to speak—to try another wisecrack or else question the integrity of this ancient relic of a rubber—Joel crashed his lips against yours and made you mute with his tongue instead.
At the same time, he slowly eased himself inside you.
Your mouth fell open when you sank down on his length, fully, but no sound came out. You just gripped Joel’s shoulders and peered into his face as if to say, ‘Shit.’
No way any man was ever meant to feel this good.
No shot your walls were fitting his cock like a glove.
Joel soaked in your gaping, wordless stare with a nod.
“Good?”
“Great.”
You’d give all eight inches of the man a goddamn standing ovation if your legs weren’t feeling like jelly. Joel let out a small grunt when you clenched around him.
“Nice and…easy,” he said, as much to himself as to you. He pinched your hip in one gigantic hand and held you there, “Let ya take a second and adjust, alright, darlin’?”
“But Joel—” you whined, already trying to slide back up.
His grip kept you impaled on his dick, anchored in place. With the other hand, he brought a thumb to your clit.
“Just feel me, sweet pea,” Joel said, slow and languid as molasses while he touched you, “Ain’t gonna hurt ya.”
You couldn’t be sure if the man was a sadist or the world’s biggest fan of cockwarming—or just polite.
The bare, slightly-less-sexy truth was that Joel hadn’t done this in a very, very long time. Even the sex he’d had, close to a year ago, was something more of a flashbang than a bona fide carnal experience; he’d just bent a perfect stranger over the bathroom sink and drilled her. This was a fever dream, a first to end all firsts, and at present, Joel felt himself toeing a razor-thin line between self-restraint and bliss by just your presence alone.
In short, he didn’t want to fuck it up by busting too soon.
When you rolled your hips and squeezed your eyes shut above him, well, Joel almost fell into a panic.
Think of golf. Differential equations. The weather in Kuwait. Anything to get his mind off of how tight your pussy was holding him in, how lithe your body worked to grind above him while he sat there, so helpless and—
“Big,” you whined, stretched to the fullest you’d ever been. Unable to bounce up and down like you wanted but still squirming for more friction, “So big, daddy.”
Hockey. Geometry. Wind patterns around the Maldives. He held you even tighter, but your motions were growing desperate. You had to start moving.
“Joel, please,” you begged him.
“Baby, I’m—”
About to cum. I am two seconds away from cumming.
“Need you now, need you so—” your voice broke off in a moan as you sank your nails into his muscly shoulders, “So bad, daddy, please, please, please—”
On the seat beside you both, your phone lit up, buzzing:
Dad 💙
Fuck.
FUCK.
Your eyes locked on Joel’s in a shared look of panic and horror, and for once, your bodies stopped, perfectly still.
You knew your dad too well. Just as much as Joel did.
Your father wasn’t the type to call late at night unless something was up. And he wouldn’t stop calling until someone picked up.
“Should we…?” That whisper came from you.
Joel was frozen in fear, eyes now glued to the screen.
“Just…give it a sec,” he breathed, “Might be nothing.”
But his tone couldn’t mask the dread behind his words. He gritted his teeth and watched the phone ring.
It stopped.
Then started again.
The pair of you clung to one other in the old Ford’s bucket seat like your dad might veritably hear the two of you having sex from 1,300 miles away if you moved.
It stopped once more.
The screen stayed black.
You let out a small sigh and felt your eyes start to close.
Then the trill of a ringtone under Joel’s ass started up the second they’d fluttered shut, and suddenly your gaze was wide, and frightened, and freaking the fuck out when you realized that your dad was trying to reach Joel.
“Answer,” you hissed.
“What?!” The whites of Joel’s eyes were bigger now than you’d ever seen them.
“He’ll know something’s up! Just—” you slipped your hand under Joel’s rear, completely devoid of any sexual insinuation this time, and yanked his old iPhone 6 out of his pants, “Answer it. Now. Be cool.”
Joel’s expression was still paralyzed with terror, but he brought the ringing phone to his ear anyway. Gingerly tapped ‘answer’ once you’d smacked him on the bicep.
“He-e-y man.”
You were so fucking dead.
Your face hovered mere inches away, and you could almost hear the warble of your father’s voice on the line.
“Great,” Joel answered, stilted as a puppet with someone’s hand up its ass, “So good. How are you?”
A beat.
“She’s good, she’s good.”
For a moment, Joel’s gaze flitted to the spot where your bodies were still connected and you saw a flash of desire, followed by guilt, then his head tip back to close his eyes as he tried to concentrate on the conversation at hand.
“In the bathroom…Uh-huh…Phone must be dead…”
“No, she’s been a trooper—just fine…”
“Somewhere just shy’a Bedford, I think…”
You listened to Joel drone on and clench his jaw, and every now and then you’d feel a squelch in that tiny space between you two when one of you moved, and it occurred to you then that it probably was not in your best interest to stay seated on his dick while he talked. You shifted your legs underneath yourself to get up.
When you started to slide up Joel’s shaft—the first time you’d ever really moved, mind you—you felt a knot in your tummy start to tighten. The friction was to die for.
You sank back down and heard a hoarse little cry spill out from your lips before you got the chance to swallow it.
At the same time, Joel groaned. Then stopped himself. Then coughed—profusely.
“Sorry, just got a little—” Suddenly, a fiery set of eyes were searing holes in your head, angry as they were desperate, “—tickle in my throat is all.”
You ignored the strained Southern drawl and the eyes that looked ready to put a bullet between your own, and you rocked your hips again. The sensation was just too good. Your body practically acted of its own accord, and suddenly you were bouncing up and down in Joel’s lap.
The man beneath you looked enraged. Aroused.
Ready to wring your neck and maybe spit in your mouth.
“World’s movin’ too. damn. fast,” Joel seethed, trying to communicate to you semi-covertly while you rode his cock, “She’s one hell of a— firecracker, man, I’ll tell ya.”
You heard your dad’s laughter on the other end. While the sound subsided to chuckles, Joel grabbed your neck. He covered the mouthpiece for a second, then, in a murmur,
“This is not a fucking game.”
He squeezed your throat so tight you probably could’ve lost all circulation going to your head, but you smiled.
In spite of the hot, glowing embers of pleasure taking shape at the pit of your stomach and the coil that kept twisting and swelling inside, you grinned down at him. Then you mouthed, softly, ‘Yes, it is,’ and you rocked your hips against him even harder.
Joel drew in a breath through his teeth and watched you ride him with bleary, half-hooded eyes—keeping one hand on your carotid as the other hand cradled the phone to his ear. The man was transfixed.
By the pinch of just one set of fingers, you knew you were done for. A dwindling supply of oxygen, combined with your high and the hundreds of nerve-endings being brushed by Joel’s cock every other moment, you were spiraling toward release and didn’t know how to stop it.
When Joel pursed his lips and lifted his hips to start fucking up into you, you had to let go. Couldn’t hold on. You grabbed hold of his forearm, still hovering across your throat, and you moaned as the bliss washed over you. You slid your needy lower half back and forth, squeezed that tanned, tough arm practically bulging with veins above you, and you came around Joel’s cock. You whimpered his name, again and again, feeling him stroke your walls and fuck you through a euphoric high.
The next thing you felt was the seat cushion behind you—and the shift of Joel’s body weight pinning you down.
His cock hadn’t slipped an inch when he flipped you over; his grip was still secure on the phone.
The only thing that had changed was that look: malicious and vindictive with the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Joel felt you pulse around him, starting to come down from your high, and he just decided to fuck you even harder.
“Shouldn’t be much longer now…” Joel hummed aloud, lowering a hand to your throbbing clit and muttering a soft ‘Uh-huh’ to your father while you clawed at his wrist.
“Joel,” you choked.
Now the feeling was too much. You were still so wet, raw, and sensitive that the pad of his thumb almost drew a shriek from your chest when he moved his finger in circles. You heard them chat about football. Joel shared a short, strained laugh with the man on the other end and pretended not to hear your whines as he continued to rail you senseless in the front seat of his car.
With the diversion of the phone call keeping his own climax at bay, Joel was free to fuck you as rough as he pleased—and couldn’t be more in awe seeing you veer close to the edge, again.
“Please, daddy, please,” you beseeched him, tears springing to your eyes as Joel’s thrusts kept shaking you.
He just shook his head and smiled as if to say, ‘Hold still.’
“It’ll be fine,” he said, “Mahomes is next-level. Best they can do is keep their heads down and take it, y’know?”
Your own soft, aching hole was taking the beating of a lifetime, and somehow, you managed to meet Joel’s gaze with a look that almost struck him as loving. That blissed-out, cockdrunk look of pure debauchery crossing your eyes in a way he hadn’t come to find in ages, if ever, was intoxicating. He felt the first fluttering pulses of your orgasm squeeze around him again, and suddenly he was pumping you faster, drilling you harder, gripping your throat and starting to sense his own climax draw near.
He couldn’t finish off like this.
Not talking shop and Super Bowl to your father—no.
Joel had to do something you might rightly hate him for for the rest of your life, and never forget, or forgive.
He lowered the phone, and right before he did, said,
“She just stepped outta the bathroom, actually. No, yeah, she’s right here. Wanna say hello?”
Your heart skipped a beat and nearly jumped into your throat. You tried to shake your head—fast—and even went so far as to try and dodge the phone when Joel brought it down to your ear, but that motherfucker had a grip like you couldn’t believe and wouldn’t stop stroking inside you or holding you down. You hated that you found Joel’s total dominance and control…kind of hot.
You flashed him the most nasty, bratty, ‘I’ll get you for this, Joel’ look you could muster anyway, and when he pressed the phone to your cheek, you mouthed a few more silent expletives before changing your air entirely:
“Hey, dad!”
Joel knew he was cooked from the second you said hello. Something objectively malevolent inside him got a rush to hear you speak to your dad in such a contrived, high-pitched tone of voice, knowing the unspeakable things he was doing to your body the whole fucking time. He could focus, now, with no need for any strained civilities of his own, but deep down, he knew it wouldn’t last long. He would not last long.
Might as well make it fun while it lasts.
“He…did,” you hummed, flitting your eyes up to Joel when he brushed your lower lip with his thumb—still holding the phone up for you while he rutted into you, “No, nuh-uh…Mr…Mr. Miller didn’t mind, no sir.”
Shit, the sound of you saying ‘sir’ was something that made Joel’s whole body lurch with pleasure. He made a mental note to have you call him that later and stroked your lip once more.
You tried to turn your face away—telling Joel, wordlessly, that you couldn’t keep up this conversation with your father if you had a thumb in your fucking mouth, but Joel didn’t care. He watched you pause for a moment, let just the tip of his finger press into your tongue, then, battling your better judgment, wrap your lips around the digit almost cautiously and suck. He knew you liked it, too.
He knew it by the way you bobbed your head, hummed, and nodded every time he thrust inside your aching walls and dragged his cock back out. The way your teeth clamped hard on his thumb whenever he grazed a particularly sensitive spot and how your lips held him in like a gag, or some other thing to keep you quiet amidst the moans and the whimpers bubbling up in your chest.
Suddenly, Joel was at your other ear, lips grazing skin and tongue praising your every move.
“My sweet girl.”
“Doin’ such a good job stayin’ quiet.”
“Takin’ daddy’s cock so well, aren’t ya, darlin’?”
From that point on, every single one of your father’s words over the phone fell on deaf ears—all you could hear was Joel. All you could feel was Joel. Your lips parted as if starting to speak, but all that would come out were small puffs of air, perfectly in sync with each one of Joel’s thrusts.
“You okay, hon? You sound…distracted,” your dad pressed. A hint of concern rose from his end of the line.
At length, Joel gripped both of your legs and brought them up over his shoulders, and he grinned before kissing your ankle and shoving his cock even deeper.
“Yes!” you yelped as you crushed the phone to your ear, hoping your father couldn’t hear any of the filthy sounds down below, “Just a little stretched—I mean stressed out, is all.”
The sick, smug fuck currently wedged eight inches deep inside you almost burst out laughing. If you weren’t so perilously close to your fourth orgasm of the night, you would’ve told Joel to take a long walk off a short bridge.
“Just worried about grades a-a-and all,” you stammered.
Joel leaned forward and almost tore a scream out of your chest—his tip was kissing the edge of your cervix now.
“Yes, sir. I will.” You tried your hardest not to whine and almost let out a sigh, “I’ll…ask him about it, for sure.”
As bone-crushingly fun as this all was, Joel was close.
He could feel it in the furthest recesses of his stomach; he was about to blow his load.
So, leveraging his weight to strike just the right angle and pushing his thumb in to stifle your moans, Joel sped up and drew even closer, face-to-face, so he could see your every expression from a hair’s breadth away.
He was so near he could hear your dad’s droning voice. See you struggle to take cock the closer you got to your release. You hadn’t cum in such quick succession…ever, really. All but one of the guys you’d let between your legs before seemed like amateurs compared to Joel, and to be honest, you weren’t sure if you could make it to four.
You popped his thumb out of your mouth and mumbled some ‘Sure, okay’ or other to your dad before casting a pleading look up at Joel. His hips were working up to a ruthless pace.
You covered the mouthpiece.
“I can’t, Joel.”
“Sure you can, sugar.”
“Joel,” you hissed, and tried to grab his wrist, when you felt your stomach start to cave. Every exposed inch of skin gave way to waves of heat, and your toes curled in. Worst of all, Joel was letting out sounds you hadn’t ever heard—short, ragged breaths that broke off in low groans—and it felt as though he were cradling your head. Holding you to him. Your eyes were locked on one another, your mouths practically panting in time, and what parts of you had not yet become commingled with him were practically coated with sweat. And shaking.
Then, in tones that rang like music to your ears:
“Alright, I’ll let ya head to bed, then. G’night, pumpkin.”
Your dad hadn’t even fully hung up the phone before you flung it across the car. Heels dug deep in Joel’s back.
“Cum for daddy,” Joel coaxed, “Cum all over this cock.”
You didn’t need much more instigation than that.
You came. He followed.
And it probably split his eardrum in two having his name screamed so fucking loud, but frankly, Joel hadn’t seen a reason for going deaf that he could’ve enjoyed so much.
Then, he didn’t sink so much as simply collapse on top of you while you both kicked back and let the waves of ecstasy roll over you. You adored his warmth in spite of the heat practically suffocating you both in that car.
Until it was in you.
Sticky, sweet dripping inside you.
You pushed Joel hard in the shoulder.
“Did it…”
“What?”
“Joel!”
You flipped your legs down and tapped his abdomen furiously, telling him, pull out, pull out right fucking now, and Joel gently obliged. Dragged his cock three-fourths of the way out when a frail, tattered condom came loose around the head of his cock and almost fell off entirely. That damn prehistoric rubber had broken inside you.
“JOEL!”
“I’m sorry! Fuck, I— fuck.”
Joel scrambled to get his cum-drenched cock and what remained of the condom away from your body, but the damage was done. You started throwing on clothes.
“I’m ovulating this week, I am so fucking fucked!”
Joel swallowed, shimmying his boxers and jeans back into place and scoping the front seat for his shirt.
“What’s…ovulating?”
You wanted to tear your hair out at the root.
There was no way this man had survived half a century on earth and didn’t understand the menstrual cycle.
“It means I can get pregnant if we don’t get a Plan B up in this bitch immediately. Let’s GO!”
That part seemed to click. Joel almost fell over himself trying to find his keys, while you slid out of the Bronco.
“Where are you going?!”
“To— to try and get some of this shit out of me first!”
Joel bounded after you, and within the first steps, you were sprinting across the parking lot. Your sweaty, half-naked companion tried—and failed—to slow you down.
“Are you not on birth control?” Joel huffed.
“Are you not capable of buying condoms more than once every fucking decade—or three?” you snapped.
Your strides were growing wider and more frantic by the second. Joel clutched his side and struggled to keep up.
“I’m…sorry,” he grunted, more embarrassed and worn-out than anything at the moment, “I’m sorry, darlin’.”
“‘Sorry’ doesn’t get your cum out of me, daddy.”
Your words couldn’t have gotten any more caustic or merciless—or inopportune—if you tried.
As it was, you were passing by the breezeway where all the bored lacrosse players were still lounging around, cracking cold ones, and craning their necks to see what the fuss outside was all about. The sounds of your feet racing fast on gravel and you and Joel’s raucous, bickering back-and-forth had caught their attention, and shortly, Connor was sticking his head around the corner. His expression—along with all the faces behind him—had twisted with horror. Confusion. A visible look of disgust.
Joel had just slowed down to catch his breath. He doubled over and braced both hands on his knees.
“I’ll fuckin’…duct tape my dick next time I hit it, honey!” he wheezed, barely loud enough for you to hear but perfectly audible to all the terrified guys around him.
Joel turned his head and almost groaned.
Then he was straightening himself back up, starting to retreat from the group who had him pinned with genuinely frightened—and nauseated—looks.
Joel normally wouldn’t care. This time, though, he threw his hands up and thought, fuck it, I’ll clear the air.
Over his shoulder, he grinned, yelling back to the guys:
“I’m not actually her dad!”
All of them stared back. Half-jealous, half-awestruck, Connor stood up, raised his beer, and called after him:
“I SURE FUCKIN’ HOPE YOU’RE NOT!”
#NO ONE SPEAK TO ME FOR AT LEAST A WEEK#THIS IS DISGUSTING#I AM DISGUSTING#DO NOT PERCEIVE ME PLEASEJE HAHAHAHAH#brain rot ❤️#joel miller#joel miller tlou#joel miller smut#joel miller imagine#joel miller one shot#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#the last of us#tlou#the last of us fic#joel miller x you#dbf!joel
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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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ellie & abby twitter links pt. 2 ♡
18+, minors DNI.
🇵🇸 LINKS | before engaging !!! | m. list | join my tag list!
els <3
♡ ellie feeling on your ass <3
♡ ellie pleasuring her girl
♡ ellie fingering you
♡ grinding w/els
♡ ellie fingering you in her car (hint: skip to 0:44)
♡ choking w/ellie (you!receiving)
♡ sub!ellie riding you
♡ ellie using a dildo on you
♡ ellie rubbing herself on you <3
♡ els caring for you
abs <3
♡ abs’ strap-on
♡ abby getting off to you
♡ eating sub!abby from the back
♡ dom!abby doing dom!abby things <3
♡ rough strap-on sex w/sub!abby
♡ abby’s strap-on (again!)
♡ doctor!abby, coming home to fuck you post work
♡ abby fingering you w/her heavy hands
♡ abby rewarding you w/her dick
♡ possessive!abby fucking you to remind you you’re hers
#ellie williams#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams smut#ellie williams x you#ellie tlou#tlou ellie#ellie williams x female reader#ellie williams x y/n#abby anderson#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson smut#abby anderson the last of us 2#abby anderson tlou2#abby anderson x female reader#abby tlou#tlou abby#the last of us smut#tlou2 smut#tlou smut#the last of us
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THIS IS VERRY ABBY CORE (can someone make drabble about this 🙏🏽🙏🏽)
#the last of us#abby anderson#abby anderson smut#abby the last of us#wlw#abby anderson drabble#abby anderson fluff#abby x black reader#abby tlou
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UM WHERE R MY JOEL MILLER REQUESTS!?!??
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#last of us#last of us joel#joel x you#fanficiton#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x y/n#last of us x reader#request
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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ellie williams x male reader (platonic)
jesse x male reader
ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ellie comes back to town for resupply and catches up with an old friend
ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 781
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: swearing, angst, post character death, post Seattle, awkward, very awkward, angst with a hopeful ending, ellie's pov, somewhat vague as to whether it's post santa barbara
ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: inspo. don't ask me why both tlou fics have ellie pov
☾⋆☆⋆☽
There he is. Jesse's boyfriend.
It's rude to think of him as just Jesse's boyfriend. He was his own person, after all; but Ellie has reason. She knew Jesse better than him, after all. Jesse was one of her best friends, despite being the main reason she couldn't act on her long-time crush for a good while.
He was admirable, a young patrol-leader, courageous and smart. Most of all, he was loyal. He even followed her to Seattle.
Oh, fucking Seattle.
He looks like him, in a way. Ellie doesn't want to be rude, but their hair...it's the same. It's coarse and greasy, but so is everyone else's. Commercial shampoo isn't a thing twenty years after the collapse of the world and "major capitalism" anyway, but that's not the point.
He does look different. His eyes, his nose, his face is different, his own. But his hair.
It's shorter down the sides, obviously to keep it out of the way, and yet pieces still remain in front, perhaps a fashion statement, a rare sight when survival calls for practicality; perhaps, instead, a simple inevitability. The back remains long, down, unlike Jesse's, past his shoulders, Ellie recalls he used to wear it up more often than down. Before he and Jesse got together, he wore it in neat braids. Afterward, they got messy—maybe tugging from heated sessions, maybe, more probably, Jesse tried braiding it for him.
"Your hair." Ellie finds herself saying, interrupting your words. She wasn't paying attention, it was rude of her, but she can't see anything else.
"My hair?" You look confused, taking a piece in your hand, but then, oh, your hair. "I haven't had time, since..."
Since Seattle, Ellie thinks, but Seattle isn't Seattle to you, it's Jesse's death.
"Right." Ellie leans back, to stand on her heels. Right.
"I've had to, you know, take over patrol organization a bit, plus, um, new duties, yeah?"
"Yeah." She says, again another short response.
Yeah. Jesse handled a lot of patrol organization, alongside Mary, who now has to help Tommy around because of his knee and all, meaning she needs more people to help her; and also Tommy's knee means he can't go on patrol anymore and...it's just such a mess. And since Ellie left too? And Dina's busy with JJ? Three—four people that can't patrol anymore.
I'm sorry, she thinks to say, but she can't.
"You put it up for patrols?" She asks. It's a stupid question, the answer is an obvious yes.
"Yea–" It's a short response, too, awkward. "I meant, I, uh, don't have the time to braid."
She knows it's not true. She knows you at least have time in the mornings, but then maybe you just don't because it reminds you of him. The way his hands felt in your hair, clumsy, sometimes the braids are too tight and awfully angled, or sometimes they're too loose, but it's Jesse, so who cares?
I'm sorry, is yet again on her tongue, but she can't.
"How's–" What was she going to say? What were you saying, before she'd mentioned your hair? Fuck, she doesn't know.
You speak up abruptly, eyes flitting down, then up, "It looks like his, doesn't it?"
"Yeah." She agrees. Just that. What else is there to say? Well, there is... "I'm sorry."
"I know, Ellie." You say. It's simple.
She said it to you once, at the funeral; again, at the wake. A third time last time she came by, a fourth the time after. This might be the fifth, but she can't account for times she's been drunk, or whatever the fuck she was dealing with fresh off the horse from Seattle.
"I–" She wishes to say it again, anyway. She wishes to say more. Jesse loved you. Jesse wouldn't want you to be sad. Jesse...
"I know." You know, of course, she's already told you all of that, you don't even need her to speak her mind to know it. "Listen, I have to..." You gesture vaguely that-a-way.
"Right. Yeah." Ellie nods her head, bounces back on the balls of her feet and backs off.
"I'll see you next time?" You offer, your hands meeting together, intertwining, fingers breaking then holding again; a teeter, a restless thing. Nervous, no, awkward.
"Yeah." Ellie nods her head.
You're off.
But she speaks again, stopping you. "Hey, um!" She clears her throat, her sudden impulsive thought catching up to her, but you've already turned around, and she must finish. "I'll braid your hair? Next time?"
You smile, huff out a breath through your nose, maybe it's amusement, pity towards Ellie's attempt at what, making up? Or maybe it's appreciation. "Yeah. Yeah, sure."
#jesse x reader#jesse x male reader#ellie williams x reader#tlou x reader#tlou x male reader#last of us x reader#last of us x male reader#💞 // darlings#🤬 // swearshirt#🌂 // failure#🎟 // tlou#🎟 // the last of us#🎫 // jesse
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Girls when he does the bare minimum in fanfiction
#cod x reader#cod x male reader#call of duty modern warfare#mortal kombat x male reader#mortal kombat x reader#slasher community#slashers x reader#slashers x male reader#mk1#moon knight x male reader#moon knight x reader#steven grant x reader#marc spector x reader#jake lockley x reader#din dijarin x reader#din dijarn x male reader#the mandolorian x reader#joel miller x reader#the last of us
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Being Joel's Surviving Child and an Older Sibling to Ellie Part II
Link to Part I
CW: Normal last of us violence, swearing. Mentions of suicidal thoughts. Bunch of angst. Also, a long one!
So, five years. A lot of can happen in five years.
You’ve almost, almost, gone back to how you used to be. Normal. A citizen rather than a survivor.
You’re more relaxed.
It’s not constant, twenty years of surviving isn’t something you just forget and move on from in an instant.
Your family understands that.
Tommy takes you out on hunts sometimes. It’s a good bonding experience with your uncle.
He has your help with organising patrols. These are the main times you see Ellie. Other than teaching her how to shoot.
It’s nice seeing your sister, though she is more distant.
You just put it up to age. She’s growing and changing, becoming more independent, so she distances herself more because of that.
You and Sarah had sort of done that before…everything.
In a way, you’re envious.
Still though, you just keep going on.
You help out with the town.
Joel checks in every so often. But after a certain period, you can’t quite remember how long into those five years it is, he does it almost all the time.
He acts differently. Softer.
“Something wrong?” you ask.
“I’m alright, kiddo. Just…feeling my age is all. Do you, uh, do you wanna come over later? Found that sequel. Curtis and Viper 2. ”
“No way?! Hell yeah, I’ll be there.”
“Alright, kiddo. Sounds like a plan.”
You notice Ellie’s absence. You don’t question it, though. Her and Dina have been talking lately. From the brief interaction you had with the girl, she was sweet. She was kind to Ellie, as was Jessie. You liked that they had a little group.
When you next see Ellie before a patrol, you talk to her.
“Didn’t see you at Dad’s last night.”
She turns to you, but you can tell she’s more tense now, “Oh, shit. Yeah, sorry. I was out with Dina and Jessie,” she does sound genuinely apologetic. You miss the mistrust in her eyes. It flickers only for as second, but you still miss it.
“It’s cool,” you say, waving it off, “just be careful, yeah?”
“Always am,” she assures, putting her pack on her horse and mounting up, letting you take them outside the stables, “besides, with your training, how could I go wrong?”
“Exactly,” she chuckles at your response, “Just…talk to each other, yeah? Whatever it is.”
She sighs. She wishes it was that simple, but she tells you she will.
She loves you, but doesn’t like you meddling sometimes. Joel too.
Sometimes, you’ll take her on a run. Or one of her friends.
It’s through this, you get the idea that someone has a crush. Dina asks you things about Ellie; favourite food and what not.
You don’t always have the answers, but you do have an idea of what is going on.
You don’t pressure Dina or her on it. Though you do ask one about the other every now and then to try to gauge it and push them to admit their feelings.
You were never into the whole love thing, so this is not your field. But they are adorable, the pair. Jessie is a good friend. Loyal. He opens up a bit more to you. He’s funny, too. Casual. Good person.
Brings out your lighter side.
Seth isn’t an awful guy, but is a homophobe.
Ellie seems to have a six sense with you, despite the distance she’s caused, and always finds you before anything bad happens.
Her own blood boils when he calls you a “queer” in an insulting way. But she always drags you back, keeping herself between you and him. Her eyes on you as she forces you not to make a scene.
This happens with a few other troubling people in the town.
She also gives you a place to crash when you want to, or are drunk. You do that a bit. Trying to tame the loudness in your head.
It worries her, but she’s gentle. If you ever wake up from a nightmare and are around her’s, she wakes you up.
“It’s ok, Y/N. It’s ok. It was just a dream. I’m here. I’m here,” she puts a hand to your cheek, “I’ve got you.”
Sometimes she’ll stay with you. Sometimes you both stay up together. Sometimes she sits with you until you drift off, looking at your gentle form, before going to bed, wishing she could stop whatever is plaguing you.
You’re her sibling, older sure, but she loves you.
Sadly, she never gets a chance to ask you, as she soon is plagued by similar nightmares.
A golf club kills your father, and she had no choice but to watch.
Dina arrives before you, Jessie being the one who fetched you when Joel didn’t come back.
Dina gets Ellie up and out, but Jessie sees you frozen, just staring at your father. Or what’s left of him.
He sees your fist start leaking blood. You don’t notice. Your eyes are glassy, but no tears fall.
You’ve shut down.
You don’t even register him leading you away. Mentally, you’re still there.
Maria visits you.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she says, sitting next to you on your bed, “C’mere.”
She tries to hug you, but you lean away.
You stand up, arms crossed, facing away from her.
“What’s that?” she prompts, not hearing what you said just then.
“It should’ve been me,” you say, a bit louder.
“Y/N. No. No, it, no it shouldn’t of been.”
“He’s dead.”
“I know…”
“He’s dead…”
“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”
She goes to hug you, or try and help, but you scream, back away, and then run from your room and out of your house, tears be damned.
Dina hears you sprinting, just seeing you as you trip over trying to get into the cemetery.
“Shit,” she says, going to help you up, “hey, Y/N. Hey!” she’s gentle, but you flinch at her loudness, “Look at me,” you do, eyes frantic. She hates her friend in pain like this, “I have you. I -”
“I need him,” her heart breaks. You sound like a scared child - she doesn’t blame you, this is a horrible situation - and not the late thirties person that you are.
You sob, putting your head in your hands as you just break completely.
You then fall back in the snow.
“Sarah would’ve been able to control herself. She would’ve stopped this.”
“Y/N,” Dina crouches near you, ignoring the cold, “you aren’t expected to just control this. There’s no precedent for this.”
“Sarah was. Henry and Sam were. Tess was.”
“They weren’t your fault.”
“Then whose were they?”
She doesn’t have time to answer you, as Ellie clears her throat.
Ellie moves to you, her too crouching down, “I’m so sorry,” she says, voice raw, “I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N.”
Despite what Dina just tried to get you to understand for yourself, you impart it to Ellie, “It’s not your fault, El. It’s not your fault.”
Dina hates what this has done to you both. Broken you both. Her girlfriend and friend who looked out for her.
You both go to Joel’s house, and she waits outside for you both.
“Can…can you…” Ellie can’t finish her words.
Wordlessly, you nod, opening the door and going inside.
You’re both slow, looking around.
You even find the copy of Curtis and Viper 2, you let out a choked laugh at it.
Ellie takes the revolver, but hands you the watch.
“I think…I think he’d want you to have this.”
You take it, and put it on your arm. It fits you just as well as it fit him.
You look at your little sister. He’s gone, so you have to step up.
You go where she goes. That’s your job: you protect, you guide, you support.
Maria isn’t happy with Tommy going, and tells you guys to go get him.
Before you leave, Maria stops you.
“Please make sure you come back too, Y/N, ok?”
You nod, “you can count on it.”
She doesn’t think she’s ever been more scared of you. The flicker in your eye. The crazed look of someone on the edge of breaking completely, and with one more promise on the line.
It’s the look of someone who will do all they can for that promise. No matter the cost.
As said before, she’d heard the stories of what you and Joel did to survive, how you were so young and lost your soul in the name of survival and control.
The last five years had seen you return to normal.
That had now been taken.
So, off you go to Seattle.
You tell them all the memories of this place you can remember. From small trips and what not. Dina paints a picture of Sarah in her mind as you describe your actions with your twin.
Randomly, small facts come back to you about the place. They’re always impressed by your vast knowledge (you doubt a lot of it is true, but there are one or two you know are facts).
Then you’re brought back to how the world is with them asking you how old you were in your first kill.
The age gap between you and them is shown, as you try to water it down. You tell yourself it’s to protect them, but really it’s just to protect yourself.
“We’re old enough to know, Y/N,” your sister says, “or are you forgetting about David?”
The words sting. Ellie regrets them. You just ride on ahead.
“Who’s David?” Dina asks.
“An arsehole. He’s dead now.”
“Did he do something to you?”
“Tried to. But he also made he break a promise I made to Y/N.”
“And what’s that?”
“Doesn’t matter now.”
Dina nods, respecting the boundary. It makes her miss her sister more, having inside secrets that friends wouldn’t know.
When it comes to climbing, Ellie goes, joking about your age and your back. It brings her back to simpler times.
“Did I do something to make her upset?” you ask Dina as you wait for Ellie to open the gate.
“Oh. No, I don’t think so. She didn’t say anything to me about something like that. Why?”
“Just…I don’t know.”
“You’re not gonna lose her, Y/N,” she assures.
“I thought I wouldn’t lose my dad, either,” it’s a cheap shot, and she knows it’s not being fired at her, but she still flinches at it, “sorry,” you say.
She nods, “it’s ok,” though there is hurt in her voice.
Ellie shows you the map, handing it to you every now and then to double check where you’ve been and haven’t been. Sure, things are marked on and off, but she doubts herself a bit.
Dina moves past the awkwardness between you both, listening as you and Ellie swap stories about Joel.
Dina is happy to hear them, at least you both aren’t completely drowning, you’re keeping each other afloat, and she’s glad to be of assistance in that.
Dina opens up to you both about being Jewish. You always liked the idea of a god, but never believed yourself. Especially not after the apocalypse, but the hope it gave her was something you understood.
Ellie was that hope for you. If she was alive, and happy, you were happy.
If what was left of your family was ok, you were ok.
That was why you had to make this right. Make it mean something.
When it comes to combat, you take the lead. Giving them orders. It makes it seem more controllable that way.
Most times, it goes wrong, with you having to adapt, but the feeling it gives you before that keeps you going.
Ellie and you are a deadly duo, Dina notes. Able to read each other’s minds and actions. You seem to forget Dina is there for a moment, your soul focus being on your sister.
One time, with you all being pinned down, you shot someone who was going to sneak up on Ellie, only for Dina to take a hit.
You helped patch up her wound, but avoided her eyes.
She doesn’t want to hold it against you. You’re her friend, and Ellie’s sibling. You’ve been good to her on runs. You were honest with her about things. While she knows she’d be like this had her sister still be alive, but it does scare her what it can do.
Yes, she’s following you because she cares about you both, but she’s also scared for you both. What you’ll do. How you’ll do it. What you’ll lose in the process.
Ellie is taken, and you don’t talk the entire way to rescue her. Dina follows, and sees how good at tracking you actually are.
Dina is shot through the roof, and one bullet catches you. You lay on the roof.
Ellie shouts up to you, telling you to “find another way to get this fuckers!”
You hesitate, and she seems to tell, “Go!” She yells, “trust me!”
You do, but you can’t find another way in. Your heart hammers, hearing only the chaos inside.
They’re out of your sight. What if they get hurt? What if they die? You lose more of your family?
You reunite outside, and you check them numerous times for injuries.
“We’re fine. We’re fine, Y/N. Look, look! No wounds,” she shows you. You just pull them both in for a hug.
Ellie remembers Joel doing that at the hospital…though she doesn’t push away this time, not wanting to raise suspicion or confront you on it just yet. She doesn’t want to lose you too.
You find more images, and one of the people from the photos is dead.
Dina looks to you, “What the fuck have we gotten involved in?”
“I don’t know,” you say, honestly, “but we just need Abby.”
“Y/N, this is insane. What if they already got her?”
“They wouldn’t have,” Ellie says.
“How do you know?” Dina challenges.
“Gut feeling.”
Dina looks to you.
“Let’s go,” is all you say.
Ellie’s secret comes out about the immunity, and you all barely escape with your lives intact and make it to the theatre.
Dina reveals she may be pregnant and Ellie snaps. You don’t follow her, instead, you sit with Dina.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she says.
“I get it,” you say, “it’s scary. Especially in a world like this.”
“Do you think it would be ok? Even after all this?”
“It will.”
“You can’t promise that Y/N,” she hopes you’re right, but is being more real about it.
“I can. I can,” you say, nodding, but you look away right after.
She nods once, before laying down.
You find yourself falling asleep on the floor. You dream about Sarah.
Ellie remembers the birthday gift you and Joel gave her. That was a good day. A day of your bonds being the strongest.
You have a memory of a time when she fixed something, some dickhead bully. He never bothered you again.
You wish that either she was here instead of you, or you could do what she could.
Ellie wakes you up, nervously asking if you can come with her.
“We’ll make sure Dina is safe. I just…can we go together, Y/N? Please?”
You nod, leaving with her. Dina just asks you both to be careful.
It’s quiet, at the start as you both set off on your journey to find Tommy.
“Did I do something?” You ask as you search a store.
“What?”
“Did I do something?”
“No,” she says, not completely lying.
“Is there a reason you and dad weren’t talking as much? Was it the party?”
“Mostly.”
“‘Mostly’?”
“It’s complicated,” it both is and isn’t true.
“You can talk to me, you know?”
She wants to more than anything, but that would be - potentially - driving away the one piece of this family she has left that has been with her through so much.
“I will, ok? Just, give me time?”
You want to press her on it, it sounds bad. Especially if it drove your sister and father apart. But, to keep her happy enough, you find yourself saying the one thing that can do that:
“Ok.”
Ellie and you find the archery statue. She holds it up and turns to you.
“People cared about this stuff?”
“Sure, sometimes.”
“You think this thing was worth a lot?”
You chuckle, “not money-wise, no. Thing was probably cheap as anything. But, sentimentally? Yeah, definitely.”
“Why’s that?”
“Made people feel valued. Wanted. Like they actually accomplished something.”
“This little thing did that?”
“A lot of things can do that.”
She nods, but can understand what you really mean. It’s why you’re here after all.
It makes her feel valued. Less alone.
She does have to admit, seeing you not drowning or shutting down in your grief as you had before was a genuine relief to her.
But, she does know you. She’s known you for like six years at this point.
She can see it’s getting to you.
You look at the blood on your knuckles more. You check in with her more. Making sure she is ok.
She tries to with you, but you just turn it around on her.
With Jessie, you drive. She rides shotgun, and Jessie sits in the middle. You almost die, but you’re just thankful Ellie learnt how to swim.
Dina and Jessie reunite. You see Ellie walk off, you watch the friends and exes reunite.
“Look, Jessie, I -“
“It’s cool, Y/N. Really. I’m not angry.”
“You’re not?” You did sort of go into this whole thing thinking he would. Though, maybe that was just because of the shows Sarah made you watch when younger.
He chuckles, “Yeah, all good. I mean, it’s a lot. But, Dina and Ellie are my friends. I want them to be happy. Their problems, are my problems.”
“That’s a sweet way to live, kid.”
“You’re my friend too, you know.”
“I’m older.”
“So?”
“I take on more problems for everyone. It’s my job.”
“That’s not healthy,” where’d he read that?
“We ain’t in a healthy world.”
Ellie has a mostly good memory of you, the strings incident. Well, good with you anyway, though at that point you had started to catch onto something being wrong. Still, you like that your dad is trying now with the comics. He and you had even had some discussions.
With the Bloater, you just held Ellie in your arms as Joel took it down.
With the couple and the lie you’ve both spun to her, you’re silent while Joel doubles down on it. She’s catching on, and you don’t like that.
Reminders of the lie you told her about being there.
Whenever you remember a birthday, you ignore that bit. You just remember the dinosaur.
With the strings, you focus on the bloater part and the comics.
With the sewers, it’s you who goes out the window. She doesn’t even think before jumping in to try to find you.
You drag her out of the water.
“What were you thinking?!”
“Me?! What the fuck were you thinking?!”
“I had to protect you, El!”
“You scared me! I thought you were dead, you arsehole!”
She hits you in the shoulder, and then you both take pause.
You’re both disturbed by the Seraphites.
“You think we should have a code like that?” She asks you as you make your way through a building.
“Would be useful,” you admit, “maybe you learning to whistle weren’t for nothing.”
She gives a humoured scoff. But she’s glad you can still have these moments.
She’s glad she hasn’t lost you. She just hates that internally she adds a ‘yet’ to that.
Before the camp, however, she turns to you, “I need to do this on my own.”
“What?”
“Look, there could to spores in there. And I don’t want you getting infected.”
“The fuck are you talking about, Ellie? We stick together.”
“Do you trust me?”
It seems like you hesitate, but really she sees you weighing up the options in your head.
You nod.
“Hey,” she grabs your hand with hers, “I’m coming back, ok? With that bitches head. I promise,” she squeezes your hand.
You look one more time to the camp, then back to your sister.
“I don’t like this.”
“I’ve got this,” she says. Your eyes soften at her echoing words.
You nod a tiny bit. You know she does.
You make your way back to the theatre.
“Y/N…” Dina says when she sees you, “Oh. Oh, god, is Ellie…”
“No,” you say, instantly, “No. She’s fine. Just thought she should go alone. Spores and whatnot. Don’t exactly have my mask.”
“You sure it’s a good idea to leave her on her own?” Jessie asks. He means well, but he is also their age.
“She’s got this,” you assure her friends, “she’s tougher than you think.”
“I know that,” he says, “it’s just…with her state of mind.”
“I’m worried about her too. But, I’d be no use to her dead.”
“To any of us, Y/N,” you smile a little at Dina’s words.
“So, what do we do?” Jessie asks.
“We wait for her to come back. I’ll, uh, give you two some space to talk about the whole…kid, thing.” You clear your throat, doing that.
Ellie returns when you’re asleep. Jessie wakes you up.
“Where is she?”
“With Dina,” you get up, and Jessie knows what your plan is, “I think we should just leave them for tonight. Dina’s got her.”
“I could help.”
“I’m not saying you can’t,” despite the almost twenty year gap between you both, he seems to be the more mature one at times, “but you don’t need to smother her.”
Your eyes look dangerous when you look at him, “I ain’t.”
“I’d follow you, Joel, Ellie, or Dina anywhere, Y/N. But, Y/N, there’s gotta be a line where you walk away.”
“Not with her. Not with this.”
“I know Joel was a good man; he was a good father to you both. But, look, Dina’s pregnant. We aren’t exactly going to find her help out here, are we? And I know, you wanna help Ellie; but…she’ll listen to you.”
You go to check on your sister, she shivers, her wounds making you sick.
You sit next to her, and move the cover she has over her a bit more. She flinches a bit. You mule over Jessie’s words.
You go with them, giving Dina a bottle of water, and leaving too.
However, you then see how high the water is out there. And you see Ellie’s plan to steal the boat.
Jessie starts to back away. Ellie then looks to you
“Not you too,” she says. Damn it, she knows you too well.
“El -”
“Don’t do that. Please don’t fucking do that.”
“I just think –”
“I didn’t think you’d leave me too.
“I’m not –”
Guys,” Jessie tries to interject, noticing your voices going up a notch in volume. You hold your hand up to silence him, then gesture with your hand to lower the volume. Even in her pissed off state, she agrees to that.
“I thought you’d have my back on this,” she says, quieter.
“I have your back. Really, I do. But I’m gonna have to pull rank on this and –”
“‘Rank’?”
“I’m the older sibling. I have to look out for you.”
“Then do that by coming with me on that fucking boat. If we fall in, we can both make it back to the boat. I need you to trust me.”
“And I need you to listen to me.”
“They killed, Joel. What if it was me?”
“That’s not fair.”
“If it was you, you would want us to try, at least.”
“I wouldn’t know, would I?” you take a breath, “we should just go home. Ok?”
“You go, then. I’ll see you there later,” you open your mouth to argue, but she beats you to it, “fuck off then, coward.”
The words sting. You want to say more, to try and get her to see the way things are going. But you realise, maybe too late, that you can’t stop her. You can’t control her.
Jessie says what is on your mind:
“I really hope you make it.”
He respects your silence on the way back to the theatre.
You don’t explain to Dina, you just go to your own little space.
“Are they ok?” Dina asks Jessie.
“Ellie and them had a fight.”
“Oh…” she says, looking to the stairs, “should we go check on them?”
“No. No, I think they need some time alone, you know? I don’t think they’ve really had time to unpack everything.”
“None of us have,” it had only been a few days after all.
“That’s true. But, he was Y/N’s dad.”
“You know, at first, I thought Y/N was Ellie’s dad.”
“Yeah?” Dina chuckles a bit.
“Yeah. I mean, you seen how protective they both are…were, over her?”
“Y/N still is.”
“Yeah…” Jessie looks to the stairs too, “that’s what scares me.”
Jessie leaves on a quick patrol of the area and finds Tommy. He brings him back.
You come down and see your Uncle in the first time in what seems like forever.
“Hey, kid,” he says to you.
He doesn’t get a warm welcome, instead, he gets shoved. Then slapped.
“You left, your goddamn wife! She’s worried sick about you, Tommy!”
“I know, I know,” he says, but you don’t stop there.
“You could’ve died, and we wouldn’t of known. You fucking idiot!”
The younger two have never heard you so loud. Not even when fighting Seth.
“I KNOW!” Tommy roars, “They killed my brother! I had to try, Y/N! I had to do something.”
“And how’d that fucking go?” you sneer.
“I saw her,” he says, “I saw the bitch that killed her.”
“Yeah? Where’s her head?”
Tommy looks almost ashamed, looking at the ground as he answers you, “she had a kid with her. They beat me. Almost drowned.”
“Yeah, well, you didn’t. I’m glad you didn’t, Uncle Tommy.”
He nods, “Me too, kid.”
It’s then, you hug him.
Time goes on a bit longer before Tommy and him decide to leave to find Ellie. They hear on the radio about the Aquarium.
Dina is the one who asks you to stay, “please. I don’t want to be alone. I’m scared.”
You tell the other two to go and stay with Dina.
You keep her drinking water. Try and keep her as well as you can.
She falls asleep, and you try your best to get her to bed ok, though she does stir awake at one point. But, only slightly, she falls back to sleep pretty easily. You get her in bed, trying to get her comfortable.
You don’t exactly envy her situation, especially given how hard it would’ve been in the old world. This new one just added more challenges.
Still, you wanted to help. Just how was the question?
You hear the door close and cautiously see who it is.
It’s your friends.
You see Ellie, eyes distant and scared.
“Hey. Hey, what happened?” you ask, moving on from the words exchanged earlier.
You look to Tommy, he shakes his head: not now.
“Do you wanna go see Dina?” she nods, “Ok, kiddo. Ok. I’ll take you to her.”
You’re slow with your movements, moving at her pace.
When she sees Dina, she is less tense. You let her go, and she goes to Dina, laying down next to her and moving some hair back.
You close the door gently, before going downstairs.
“So, you wanna tell me what happened?”
“One of the girls she killed,” Tommy pauses, puts his head in his hands, and pushes his hair back, “she was pregnant, Y/N.”
“Jesus,” is all you can say as you sit on the stage.
“Yeah,” is all Tommy can say as he sits next to you. He then looks around the theatre.
“You remember when you and Sarah came here?”
You smile a bit, “yeah. Or, well, somewhere like here.”
“Nope. Pretty sure it was here,” you have no idea if he’s fucking with you or not.
You narrow your eyes at him a bit.
“I’m serious,” he says, “can’t remember what we saw, mind. But, it was right here we saw it.”
“Hm. Quite the legacy,” you admire.
“Ain’t it just.”
A quiet few moments go by.
“I think we should go home,” you say.
Tommy nods, “Yeah. Though, not exactly looking forward to Maria kicking my arse.”
“Yeah, well, I ain’t gonna be able to help with that.”
“Maybe I’ll use you as a shield.”
“As if she’d let you,” you say, “She loves me.”
“I’d like to think she loves me more.”
“Uh-uh, told me herself.”
“Did she now?”
“Oh yeah.”
It’s nice, this moment of normalcy.
“Go get some rest kid, we got a long trip tomorrow.”
“Guess you’re right,” you say, standing up and stretching, “night, Uncle Tommy.”
“Night, kid.”
You don’t sleep too long. Your instincts tell you something is going on.
You go to the main lobby and see Tommy on the floor, an arrow in his leg.
“Hands up,” you say, pointing your pistol at…shit, it’s Abby. And the kid Tommy mentioned.
“Y/N, run!” Tommy calls out.
“I ain’t leaving you,” you say to him, keeping your eyes on your father’s murderer.
“It’s you,” Abby says in realisation, “you’re the one who Marlene took as bait for…for him.”
“You took him from me,” you spit.
“And yours took mine. Now you know how it feels.”
“We just gonna stare at each other?”
“Not if you move. You’re not on my list. The girl is who I want.”
“So you can run more tests? There ain’t no cure.”
“No. No, the cure is long dead. On that, we can agree.”
“I’m not letting you get my sister.”
She steps a bit closer, gun aimed up a bit, “Then I’ll take you both. I don’t care.”
You look to the boy, “You found the one good Seraphite?”
“Just as quick as the rest.”
“Ok then,” you say, putting your gun down, hands raised, “then take me.”
“NO!” Tommy shouts, getting a kick in the gut.
“Maybe I would’ve,” she admits, “but not anymore. You’ve both taken too much from me. All you had to do, was stop. To get her to stop.”
You go to say something, but the door bursts open.
A few gunshots go off. You ignore the burning sensation on your body, and instead, try and deal with the one at your throat, the arm Abby has around it crushing your available air.
“Come on out! Or this one’s next!” Abby calls out.
“Ok. Fuck!” Ellie throws her gun away, standing up, hands raised, “you did this because of me, right? Because they both saved me? It’s me, I’m the one you want. Just let them go, ok?”
Abby presses the gun into your head, “we let you live,” she says to Ellie.
“I’ll let you live,” Abby says to you, “but I swear, if I see you again, I will kill you.”
Your world then goes dark. But you hear your sister yell out your name.
You wake up to silence.
Your vision goes double. You vomit on the floor.
Once on your feet, you slowly make your way down the theatre. You wished for music. You wished for something. Some sound to signal life.
You get backstage, and see a hole in the floor. You don’t even think before dropping down it. It doesn’t help your vision or unsteady legs. Shaking your head and getting to your feet once again, you’re greeted with your sister, coughing blood on the floor, and Dina bleeding from her head, unconscious.
You go to your younger sister, fall down and hover over her. She just coughs more.
You don’t know what to do. You just put her head in your lap, running your hand through her hair.
If this is it, then so be it.
You go to sleep, not expecting to wake up again.
You do, and Ellie is quietly saying your name.
You look down, an unknown amount of time having passed.
“Are….are you…?”
“Here. Present. Alive.” you say.
“Dina…” You look to your friend. Gently putting Ellie back down, you turn Dina over. The baby bump looks ok. You get some cloth and put it on her head.
“I think the baby’s ok.”
Ellie lets out another cough, this seems to be her attempt at a sigh of relief.
How you get out, you can’t remember. But you do.
Ellie leaves Jackson. But you’ve already gone before then.
You can’t deal with all the looks from everyone. And what you gather to be a disappointed look from Maria when you bring Tommy in.
You aren’t far from it, instead just living in the woods.
You go to the same part of the water you went to clean yourself in after Henry and Sam died. You don’t really care you’re stealing the Jackson community water technically, you just use it.
You figure this will all help clear your head. It’s neutral.
Maria comes to visit you, bringing some extra supplies. You just thank her.
She updates you on Tommy. Even tells you they split.
You just give her your condolences and go back to your little hobbit existence. Just you and a tent.
The final time Maria visits you, it’s to ask for you to go with Tommy. He wants to visit Ellie.
“I think she could use your company, too.”
Maria is still family; as is Tommy; as is Ellie.
You have to pick up the load now that Maria shares.
“Ok,” you say, voice croaky from a few months of disuse.
“Thank you,” she says. You nod.
She smiles a bit, happy that you’re somewhat in good standing with each other.
Tommy tries to make conversation with you, but you ignore him the whole ride down.
You help him off his horse and send him up the stairs first to the door.
You take in the place. It’s got a nice view. They’ve done well for themselves.
Dina greets you warmly.
“Hey, Y/N,” she says, giving you a hug.
“Hey, hon,” you say, hugging her back.
She takes a look at you, looking at your face and moving it around with her hands, “you had it rough, huh?” her voice is soft, unjudging.
“Sort of?” you say, unsure of how else to answer.
“Well, sit down. We’ll get you cleaned up.”
Then Ellie comes in, with a baby.
She pauses at seeing you both, but a whole flood of emotions comes to her when she locks eyes with you.
“Hey,” is all she can get out.
“Hey,” you say.
It’s all going ok. Then Abby is mentioned again, and the mood turns sour.
“Oh, for fucks sake,” you say, hand going down your face.
“Now, don’t you fucking start –” Tommy starts to say.
“We ain’t doing this, Tom. You said you wanted to talk to her.”
“I am,” he protests, though does note your lack of ‘Uncle’ being used, “that’s all we doing.”
“Is it hell,” you say, trying to not teach the kid bad words this early. Like your dad did with you and Sarah.
“Oh, so now you wanna talk, huh?” Tommy challenges.
“We ain’t doing this here. Especially not in front of the kid,” you say, pointing to JJ. He grabs you finger, cooing as he moves it around. You move a bit closer, hand going through his hair, as your eyes stay on Tommy.
“Can you hold him?” Dina asks. You do. He complains at first, being away from his mother, but settles into you in the next moment. Dina takes Tommy outside.
“You’re a natural,” Ellie says, somewhat brightly. You start to rock from side to side gently as JJ settles even more, head on your shoulder.
“Yeah. Somehow,” you joke. Ellie scoffs humorously.
“I’m glad you’re ok,” she means it.
“Ditto,” as do you.
The silence is awkward, and you see her eyes go to the map.
“Don’t,” you say, “don’t mess this up.” At ‘this’ you swirl your finger around the area.
“Ok,” she says. You look into her eyes that flicker down to the map every so often. You’re looking for signs of bullshit. You find some. You just don’t say anything.
“Ok,” you say.
Tommy leaves, but you stay the night. You get to know your nephew a bit more. He’s lively.
Dina and Ellie both show you around the farm. The sheep are nice. They help calm you down. Even JJ loves petting them.
Dinner is nice. They can both cook. You both even dance a bit. Just minus bigots being there, even better!
Then comes to bed. They show you your bedroom. You thank them and head in.
Early in the morning, you head downstairs, taking the map and putting it in your bag.
“What are you doing?” Ellie asks, coming downstairs, Joel's jacket over her shoulders.
“Trying, one last time.”
“To do what?”
“To stop you from this spiral being complete.”
“I’m not spiralling, Y/N. I’m hurting, and I don’t know how to make it stop.”
You sigh, sitting down, “You know, back in the old world, they had things called therapists. You ever heard of them?” she shakes her head, “they’d talk to you, try to help you find a way through. I’m sure there are some who would fit that role your age without knowing the turn, or just people my age who became them, but the talking bit I can do.”
“I don’t want to talk. Give me the map.”
“So you can run off and get killed?”
“I won’t get killed.”
“How’s that?”
“You and Joel showed me how to survive.”
“And anyone can get a lucky shot in. I mean, Christ, look at Tommy, a bullet through the head should’ve killed him.”
“But he’s still alive. And so are you. I don’t want anyone else to almost die because of me.” you can hear the slight crack in her voice.
You know you could keep doing this with her. Going in circles. Your own spiral.
But, you’ve drained yourself.
So, you stand up, and take the map out of the bag.
You see Dina peak from around the corner, but you’re quick in your eyes going back to Ellie, who is watching you, eyes glassy, and tense.
You approach her, and put the map into her hand, “I love you, Ellie. Far as I’m concerned, you’re my blood,” you grab her face in your hands, “You always will be, ok? But, if you do this, I won’t be here when you get back.”
Either timeline her brain cooks up as to that meaning scares her.
“Ok,” she says, even as her voice wobbles and tears threaten to fall. She takes the map and goes to her bag. You hear her sniffle from the kitchen.
You turn to Dina, and knock your head to the kitchen. She goes down. You sit on the chair in the living room as they share a goodbye.
Dina then comes back, you hug her. You hear the back door close. Ellie seemingly didn’t want to confront you again.
“What…what happens now?” Dina asks you in hiccups.
You kiss her head, “well, I’m gonna get some supplies from Jackson, and go back to my little home.”
“Can you…can you help me move some things back there, please?”
You hug her a bit tighter, “course, kiddo.”
“Thank you,” she says as you pull apart.
You smile down at her, “you’re family,” is all you say.
The three of you head to Jackson, you help Dina set up in her room.
“Thank you. I mean it. Please visit, that’s all I ask. Don’t do that other way out. Please.”
You sadly smile at her, “I’ll do my best on the last part. I’ll swing by, though. Promise.”
“Ok…ok,” she hugs you again.
“I think you would’ve liked my sister,” she says, voice muffled by her shirt.
“Bet I would’ve,” you agree.
You go back to your tent; luckily, nothing has happened to it.
You go on a hunt and start skinning your deer. You hear a twig snap, and a quiet “shit” from the person you know who broke it.
You continue skinning, then start cooking. Ellie takes a seat on the log.
You look at her, seeing her casual clothing, and that she’s missing two fingers.
You don’t say anything. She watches you, eyes going to the fire every so often, fingers playing with themselves.
Wordlessly, you hold out a small cup of water. She takes it, and drinks from it, before handing it back to you.
It is then replaced with some meat.
She eats, then looks back to the water.
She feels something hit her feet. Looking down, she sees a sleeping back. Looking back up, she sees you trying to do another tent.
She finishes her food, and approaches you, “I’ve got it,” her voice quiet, drained, hurt.
You don’t look at her as you go with your own food.
“Can you help me, please?” she asks. You pause, putting your food back into the bowl, before getting up and helping to finish her tent.
“Thank you,” she says. You nod, before finishing your meal.
You then set up your sound traps.
“Is that like Bill’s?” she asks.
“Yup,” you answer.
“Cool,” she says.
You just nod.
Once they’re done, you retire to bed yourself.
Ellie stays up, just looking at the fire, then down at her fingers that can no longer play the guitar.
She goes into her tent. The bed isn’t too uncomfortable. Yet she’s still restless.
She hears you snore a bit from the tent diagonal from her.
She shuts her eyes. In her mind’s eye is one of you, her, and Joel having a snowball fight. It’s nice. Warm. Fuzzy. Happy.
You have a dream of Sarah. Of one time of you both comforting each other after a sad film, just holding each other and crying. It’s sad but comforting.
The dream changes, Ellie comes and sits next to you, and a new movie starts: Curtis and Viper 2.
You all pull up the shared blanket.
It’s a dream, you know that.
Yet you find comfort in it.
It drowns out what’s actually happened. What’s actually been lost.
The illusion will shatter as soon as you wake, as it always does.
But you hope you can dream a bit longer.
Escape the broken bonds you have to go back to at some point.
The sad existence you live.
The emptiness you feel.
The one your sister has too.
Maybe you can overcome it, one day.
But you both know that day is far away.
And it terrifies you both…
#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams x platonic!reader#ellie williams x you#last of us imagine#last of us x reader#ellie williams imagine#platonic!reader#platonic reader
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so, your best friend accidentally sent you a video of her masturbating. what now?
18+ below! smut smut smut!
ellie’s bedroom is heavy with the scent of sex, her fingers still pruned from her own wetness. she’s spent the last few minutes tense and panicked, too paralyzed with anxiety to get up and put some clothes on, and she’s considering what she’ll change her name to and where she’ll move to start a new life when you finally, finally text her back.
it’s okay. give me a second to reply, alright?
the weight on her chest eases a bit at your reassurance, but a new spark of uncertainty flares up at the second part of the message: give me a second to reply. jaw tight, she sends you a question mark, then follows up with you don’t have to respond. it’s probably better if you don’t?? again i’m so fucking sorry.
but as the minutes tick by, slow and lazed, she starts to panic again. her mind conjures every possible response you could send her next: an angry thesis statement on why ellie’s a disgusting pervert, a seething comment about how stupid she must be for sending a video like that so carelessly. would you ever look at her the same way? would things ever be the same?
all it takes is another notification from you to make every imagined worst-case scenario evaporate. ellie clicks the notification as soon as it pops up, chewing on the soft flesh of her inner lip.
it’s a video.
you sent her a video.
she hits the play button without a second thought, heartbeat thudding in her ears.
“i know you’re probably embarrassed,” you say, head tilting as you frown with sympathy. a blush paints ellie’s cheeks bright red. “but i need you to know how wet that made me.”
holding the camera up, you extend your arm outwards to reveal the rest of your body - your naked body, ellie realizes with a shock. she sits up in bed, back ramrod straight, her phone shaking as a nervous tremor strikes through her. but she can’t look away - not when you’re tracing a hand down the soft curves of your body, fingertips grazing over one peaked nipple, then moving lower, lower. ellie swears she’s forgotten how to breathe.
you release a pleased hum. “i liked watching you touch yourself,” you say, so matter-of-fact. “i hope you like watching me.”
and she does, god she does. she settles back down onto the mattress, eyes never leaving the screen as you work two fingers through your soaked folds. you moan and sigh and keen, rolling your hips down against your own hand, the wet sounds of your pussy so intoxicating, ellie can’t believe she’s gone her whole life without seeing you like this.
and it might be wrong, the way her own hand drifts between her legs to find herself still hot and wet, but she doesn’t have it in herself to care. she dips a finger inside of herself as she watches you ride your own hand, grinding down on your palm as your fingers work in and out of your cunt. she finds a rhythm that matches your own; soon enough, you’re both gasping at the pleasure building beneath your waistline. with every roll of your hips, ellie’s cunt tightens, flooding with slickness - as if she could get any wetter.
as you get closer to the edge, your grip on your phone falters and the camera starts to shake. ellie hisses and curses under her breath when your phone captures the blissed-out look on your face: eyes rolled back, brows pulled together, teeth sinking into your lower lip.
“oh - oh my god,” you stutter, panting, “i’m gonna come, ellie.”
ellie. ellie ellie ellie.
“holy fuck.” ellie’s pussy clamps down around her fingers at the sound of her name on your lips; her thumb glides over her clit just right, and she didn’t think she’d come this fast but she does, her vision exploding into blinding white as her orgasm crashes into her. it’s the only time she looks away from the video on her screen - but she certainly hears your orgasm, all high-pitched moans and ragged breaths, your cunt gushing onto your fingers.
when ellie finds the strength to open her eyes again, the video is still playing. you’re catching your breath, chest shimmering with a thin layer of sweat. you look at the camera and smile. ellie thinks she might pass out.
“thanks for the video,” you say, lifting your free hand up to wave.
when you bring your fingers to your mouth and purse your lips around them, sucking them clean of your own come, ellie’s sure she’s going to pass out.
and then, she decides, she’s going to fuck you stupid.
#okay here u silly little dykes<3 enjoy!#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams smut#ellie x reader#ellie smut#ellie williams#ellie williams fanfic#ellie x reader smut#ellie williams fanfiction#ellie fanfic#ellie tlou2#ellie the last of us#ellie tlou#ellie x you#ellie x y/n#ellie x reader fic#ellie williams x y/n#ellie williams blurb#ellie williams drabble#ellie williams x you#my writing#kira writes
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