#oh fuck i forgot tommy
Photo
I FORGOT I NEVER FINISHED THIS IM THINKING ABOUT THEM AGAIN
#3 menaces au#tubbo#ranboo#tommyinnit#shrikes aus#myart#art#fanart#digital art#i hate the brush i used for lineart but whatevs#LOVE how tommy turned out#it was basically oh fuck i forgot his pants yknow what i dont wanna use that brush again ill deal with it oOo stripey raccoon mask? absolute#y stripey#tubbos the only one with any visible muscle the other 2 are sticks
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o7 have some baby clingys for today
#they look a bit younger than they were in my headcanons but ehh Fuck It we ball#dream smp#dream smp fanart#tommyinnit#tommyinnit fanart#tubbo#tubbo fanart#c!tommy#c!tubbo#clingyduo fanart#clingyduo#im a bit late bc 2days my birthfay but. oh well ^^'#just now realized i forgot their flowers. Whgy would this hapoen to Me
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We need to talk more about the animals on the isle because I have two crocodiles, several cats, two tigers, an entire pride of lions (most of those aren’t OCs but whatever), three fawns, bear triplets, several shapeshifters VKs, and various big cat hybrids, and I have barely mentioned most of them
#disney descendants#Timmy the crocodile#Tommy the crocodile#Dawn and Dusk#Kovu#Vitani#Moyà daughter of Zira#Romeo son of Ronno#Robin daughter of Ronno#fuck i forgot what the other one was called#oh! Now i remember!#Rocky son of Ronno#Satan Demon & Antichrist#zevon descendants#Yzla#Mad Maddy#Sky and Nuri#Theo son of Shere Khan#Shira daughter of Shere Khan#Khani daughter of Shere Khan#Elani & Tayo#whoops forgot someone#Nuka
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honestly i forgot that dick originally wanted to adopt jason as well just imagine how chaotic that would’ve been like
——————
jay: uh what’s for dinner
dick: well we have cereal and…
dick:
dick: hey don’t kids like the whole breakfast for dinner thing?
jay: i miss alfred
——————
dick: and for a bed i’d like to introduce you to this lovely thing called a futon!!
jay: …better than a cardboard box i guess
——————
jay: can i fight crime yet
dick: you’re a child
jay: you’re a slightly larger child
dick: …fair point, no extreme violence and minimum 4 flips per patrol
——————
dick: when a mommy and daddy love each other very much—
jay: i am not doing this with you dickface i know what sex is
dick: wait no little wing i have a powerpoint presentation. it’s color coded and everything!
jay: i wish i’d stayed on the street
——————
dick: okay that’s enough, you know what, get on top of the fridge
jay, hissing: this house is a fucking nightmare
——————
jay: hey some friends at school wanted to watch a movie, is it okay if they come here—
dick: yes, yes! oh my god finally i’m so proud you’re making friends jaybird, i’m gonna be the coolest host dad ever i’ll make pizza and
jay, already on the phone: yeah he said no, sorry guys, can we do it at tommy’s?
——————
dick teaching jason trapeze and circus stuff 😭
——————
jay: god the circus is so lame
dick: exCUSE ME i’m disowning you, get out
jay: WHAT
——————
dick, who forgot to pick up jay from school: oh god i’m so sorry, i’ll never do it again
jay, who’s thrilled to be allowed in the library after hours every time, but never one to pass on a guilt trip: wow dick i never thought you of all people would abandon me
——————
dick: listen my support group says-
jay: you joined a support group for single moms dickface, that doesn’t count
dick: it does too, they all think i’m very brave for doing this alone
jay: for fucks sake-
——————
dick, coming home late from a date and seeing the lights on: uhh hello?
jay, sitting on a stool: and just where have you been all night young man?
dick: IM 26
——————
jason, pointing at the wayne family photos: so who do we like, and who do i hate on principle
dick:
dick: okay so this is complicated
jason: there’s only like three living people??
dick: right. so—
——————
dick, who pulled an all-nighter working on a case: good morning!
jay, who was reading jane austen and didn’t notice the sun came up: right…morning
dick:
jay:
dick: you didn’t sleep did you
jay: well clearly neither did you
dick: fair enough, coffee?
——————
jay: so this guy was shovin’ me around and-
dick: i’ll kill him
jay: …no.
dick: but-
jay: his mom’s the librarian and i can’t afford to fall out of sharon’s good graces
——————
dick: look it’s not my fault i’m so charismatic
jay: i’m not asking for a lot here
dick: you’re asking me to suppress my nature
jay: i’m asking you to stop flirting with all my teachers at parent teacher conferences
dick: c’mon it’s not that big of a deal
jay: …miss shields gave me her phone number to pass along the other day. so did mr. burnes, it’s getting outta hand dick
dick: oh i see, this is serious
dick: she’s really cute, maybe i should-
jay: STOP IT
——————
#dick actually choosing to pass the robin mantle on to jason 😭#they’d be so cute your honor#dick grayson#jason todd#batfamily#batfam#dc
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A lot of speculation (and some bitchass judgemental commentary) on why Tommy calls Buck Evan and i wanna give my two cents
I believe that Chim did NOT introduce them properly when he showed up. He was just like "hey Tommy bro it's been forever we gotta meet under non someone's life threatening circumstances oh yeah these losers are with me they're at the 118 too say hi losers this guy is gonna steal us a chopper"
And Buck was standing there a little starstruck as Tommy smiled and shook his hand and he definitely did his lil anxious stutter thing where he went "oh um hi im- evan- evan buckley" and before he could manage to get out the "you can call me Buck part" Tommy went "hi Evan, nice to meet you" and the fucking SOFT way Tommy said his name just had Buck's brain melting so he forgot about the Buck thing and then well they were stealing helicopters flying into hurricanes and it just settled as A Thing in his head that Tommy calls him Evan and Buck kinda just Likes It.
Meanwhile Tommy is increasingly confused about the Buck thing the more time they spend together and the more time he spends with the extended 118 fam the more he realises that NO ONE calls Buck Evan except Evan had very specifically introduced himself as "Evan. Evan Buckley" and had never once told Tommy he could call him Buck and now it's been so long Tommy's just afraid to ask what's going on.
This is all now canon in my head also I wanna read fics where Tommy is confused about the name thing now HAS ANYONE WRITTEN THE FICS!?!?
#also he secretly likes being the only one allowed to call him evan bc a lil possessive streak is fun#bucktommy#911 on abc#evan buckley#tommy kinard#ive always loved the idea of Buck's significant other calling him evan#bc in Buck's head evan is that kid who grew up feeling alone and unloved#and Buck's s/o calling him evan just solidifies the fact that every piece of him#the most damaged parts of him#they are all loved
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i loved the hickey fic🥵
can i request a role reversal fic?
reader marks up joel and is unashamed about it
Pairing: Joel Miller x reader
a/n: thank you love, hope you'll like this although its been so long you probably forgot about this. and if you're interested, this is the fic they were referring to
It was just you and Ellie in the kitchen this morning. You were laughing about another funny dream she had last night, this one involving Joel trying to tame a gigantic sheep so he could ride it or something, she didn't quite remember the purpose, not that it mattered.
But as you both quite literally felt on the verge of tears from the image the dream was painting in your minds, the main character of said dream, appeared in the doorway, throwing you both a dirty look as if watching two of the three people he loved the most in this entire world didn't fill his old heart with pure joy.
"It's too early to be this chipper" he grumbled, walking to you to leave a quick kiss on your cheek as he reached for the coffee pot behind you.
A gasp sounded from the other sound of the counter
"oh my god what happened to your neck?!"
And it was then, that Joel Miller, the unafraid, stone-cold killer of a man that he was, turned red from hairline to neck.
"O-Oh fuck I-" His eyes widened, his hand going to cover your work on his neck, but it was all useless, because the second Ellie's eyes landed on the smirk plastered on your face, she knew.
"oh my god ew" she groaned, rolling her eyes, her focus going back to the eggs on her plate.
"You remember Janine, that woman I told you about?" you explained, talking to her
She laughed at that, remembering your conversation about that woman who's always flirting with Joel.
"you filled Joel's neck with hickeys because of her?"
Joel wasn't even red anymore, he was turning purple, his eyes were wider than a deer's caught in the headlights, and you suspected he hadn't taken a breath since he first entered the kitchen.
"this..." you smiled, trailing your fingers on Joel's neck "is my own little way of telling her to keep her hands off my man"
Joel choked, he literally choked on his own saliva and just then, just when he was about to have a heart attack, Tommy entered the house, his eyes immediately going to the image before him with more than a little amusement.
"What have I walked into?" he grinned, walking over to the kitchen "And why does my brother look a breath away from exploding?" he laughed, his hands gesturing to Joel.
"y/n here was giving me way too much information that I certainly didn't want to know" Ellie explained, looking at you pointedly for the last part of her sentence, making you chuckle.
"About what?" Tommy asked
"About the work of art I left on your brother's neck"
"wha-Ohhh" he breathed, smiling like a smug bastard as he understood what you were talking about "Janine tried something again I presume?"
"You presume right" you smiled, giving Joel a little kiss on the cheek and stifling a smile at how terrified he seemed "for the last time"
"You ok baby?" you asked, stroking his cheek
His gaze was on Ellie, his mouth parted in shock.
"You still with us man?" she asked, giggling softly, making him shake his head to try and get his mind to start working again.
And then, then the words came tumbling off his tongue, filled with what sounded like pure panic
"S-since when do you know what a hickey is!?"
Everyone in the room except him laughed, but when the shock on his features persisted, and Ellie regained her composure, she answered.
"I'm not a kid Joel, I know what sex is"
Another pang to his poor heart,
he felt all the organs inside him twist into a knot
what the fuck was happening?
Did she just say-
"sex!?" he cried, looking a second away from having a mental breakdown "I-I never said sex- H-how do you even know- I- You- You're too young- I-I"
"ok ok ok" you tried your best not to chuckle, intervening before his heart really decided to stop "How 'bout we go outside for a moment huh? Take a few deep breaths? How about that?" you murmured, soothingly drawing circles on his back
He looked at you then, looking every bit as disheveled as he sounded
"y-yeah" he swallowed thickly, "I-I think that's a good idea"
He looked back at Ellie for a moment to make sure this wasn't a nightmare and he didn't just make that up, before you both left the room.
And as if on cue, the second you did, Tommy and Ellie started laughing like maniacs.
"I don't think I've ever seen him so scared" Ellie laughed, as Tommy sat next to her, patting her back
"Neither have I" he chuckled, none of them saying anything before an idea came to his mind.
a hell of a funny one
"ten bucks if you tell him you know what porn is"
#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfic#joel miller fluff#joel miller x fem!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x you#smut#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#fluff#joel miller imagine#joel miller blurb#joel miller angst#fanfiction#the last of us#tlou#the last of us hbo#tlou hbo
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Now Expanded on AO3 here
The bed is hard and cold, not anything he isn't used to, but uncomfortable all the same. Especially with the way his body aches right now.
He wasn't even supposed to be on the ground, running into burning buildings wasn't really his main job description anymore. It was just...
The woman was screaming for her cat. And Tommy loves cats, he has his own, Missy. She's probably wondering where daddy is right now.
Who is he kidding, she probably didn't even notice he left for work.
No one is probably noticing he's missing. He likes the people at harbor, his coworkers, but they aren't family like the 118, Evan has told him how half the station will be sitting bedside vigil when any of them get injured. It must be nice to have that. After his childhood, shipped from one foster home to another, kicked out at 18, a family like that is something he's always wanted; fuck he acted like an absolute asshole just to try to get the old 118 to like him.
He's just mulling over whether calling Eddie and asking him to pick him up whenever they discharge him is too much when he hears the squeak of sneakers on the hospital floor and glances towards the door.
In stumbles Evan, looking scared and adorable and making Tommy's heart beat so fast the monitor actually beeps a few times in warning.
"Tommy, hey, are you okay?" He says, scrambling towards him, dragging a chair over with a loud scrape that has Tommy wincing at the sound.
For a moment all he can do is stare over at this human ball of sunshine, something in his chest unknotting. Fuck he really didn't think anyone would come, how did he...
"I, I'm okay," he says, trying to put on a brave face for Evan. He's older, more experienced, he should try to be calm and not get emotional.
"You look like shit," Evan says in that earnest way he has, sitting there and taking Tommy's hand in his own. His thumb brushes over Tommy's bruised knuckles, his concerned expression staring straight into Tommy's soul.
"Oh..." he says as he feels something crack open in him. Because Evan is here, he's holding his hand, he's worried for him he... He wants to take care of him, its written all over that adorable face. And well, that's, its not really something Tommy ever has anymore. "I'll be okay," he amends, and his hand squeezes Evan's even if it hurts a little. "How did you even?"
"The hospital called me. Apparently I'm your emergency contact?" Evan asks, and there's confusion there, but also something that looks like that same giddy contentment that Evan gets whenever Tommy does something to make him happy.
Fuck. He forgot he'd done that. That looked crazy and desperate, they'd only been dating a couple months.
"Uh, yeah it was either you or Chimney," he said, and fuck if that didn't sound pathetic. It wasn't like he didn't have friends. He had a lot actually, but none that he trusted implicitly like that. To see him weak and vulnerable. Chimney had saved his life though, and Evan well...
Evan leans in and kisses him. "Well I'm glad you did because I might not have known otherwise. Chim is at work right now so."
They sit for a while, Him recounting how he saved the cat but got blasted out a first floor window by the explosion. There wasn't any serious damage but he hurt like shit and had a lot of bruises and scrapes.
"Would you want to, y'know, come home with me and I can take care of you? Or I can stay at your place," Evan asks and fuck, fuck he is Not going to cry, he is not that kind of guy. But then, before he can answer.
Eddie rounds the corner, followed closely by Chim and Hen. Eddie's in plain clothes but Hen and Chim look like they came directly from the station.
"Tommy, shit, you okay?" Eddie asks, and Hen and Chim are looking at his chart by the bed and this is. Its too much. Its exactly what he wanted but wasn't at all expecting.
"I'm," he starts, looking at Evan for a moment before deciding, "I feel about as bad as I look, yeah." Evan squeezes his hand and his heart starts racing again and the monitor is beeping a little and he feels a tear going down his cheek. Evan wipes the tear away and then they're all talking. About what happened as Evan explains it for him, about a call where Hen saved a dog a few months back, about whatever. And fuck if Tommy doesn't feel safe, feel like he belongs.
Later that night, laying in his own bed, Evan having dragged him onto his broad chest in the same way Tommy usually does to him, he starts to think he could get used to this. He really hopes he can keep Evan, keep all of this for himself. Missy curls at the foot of the bed and purrs and he thinks, yeah, I feel like purring in contentment too.
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study break part two|J.MILLER
gif credits to @shirks-all-responsibilities not mine!!!
bestfriends dad!joel 3.3k. part one is pinned on my page
Summary; A awkward breakfast after your previous, steamy makeout sesh the night before. Luckily sarah is long gone at some cowboys house party, leaving you and joel alone. When he interrupts your study session to have a conversation more touching than talking happens.
WARNINGS: girthy age gap, reader is in 20’s, joel in late forties, head m (joel) receiving, fingering f receiving (reader) ,virgin reader (implied), best friendsdad!joel, make out sesh, grinding, lots of praise, use of darlin’, unrequited  pining by tommy, alcohol use (not reader) smut, to be honest actually the filthiest thing I’ve wrote. way too many cherry popping references BLAME TOMMY NOT ME!! (legit said twice out of the whole god damn thing im being dramatic) handjob HEHE, joel being possessive. slightly inexperienced reader or maybe shes just shy bout it? face fucking major dirty talk
You sit down for breakfast at the cold, marble island in the middle of Joel's kitchen, the quietness of the early morning making you remember everything from last night. The feeling of Joel's warm lips against your cold skin, his body pressed up to yours, echoing of "good girl" fills your ears, the feeling of his-. Your thoughts are bluntly cut off, the sound of two pittering footsteps coming down the stairs. You gaze over, it's Sarah.
With a full outfit and makeup on even though it's just 8AM. Bubbly as always, you learned from your times sharing an apartment off campus with her that she is, genuinely the biggest morning person to exist. Her soft footsteps are followed by heavy ones as Sarah jumps off the last step, Joel appears In all of his morning glory. Messy salt and pepper hair, heavy eyes, a tight black shirt, and grey fucking sweatpants. He's just teasing you at this point if you weren't already blushing from those thoughts from just a couple minutes ago about him you would definitely be blushing now.
You stare for a minute too long as he yawns, Sarah spins you around in your chair. Giving you a quick peck on your cheek as Joel drifts over to the sink, pouring himself a glass of water and sipping it, while leaning against the counter. Sarah hugs you tightly, then looks at you "Sleep okay?" she says. You nod and she smiles, Joel clears his throat, and Sarah sits next to you.
“What’d you girls want for breakfast?" he said with the most breathtaking, attractive morning voice. Sarah must have woken him up, Sarah thinks for a minute then decides. "Pancakes with whipped cream?"
Joel goes to the fridge to see if they have all the ingredients for the meal, and they do. He puts on a pot of coffee while you and Sarah talk about boys and college. Gazing over at Joel every couple of minutes, you're met with his very own eyes staring at you. Every time you caught him staring he looked back down at the pancakes he was whipping up, and a tint of red comes to his cheeks. He sips his coffee and waits for the pancakes to cook. He looked so domesticated like this, with messy hair
the smell of coffee in the air, dripping coffee falling onto the counter creating a ring around the mug. The smell of pancakes as he hunches over the stove checking to see if they are done. Glances back to you to see if you're looking at him, to see if you're real. If last night was real.
The last pancake was at last done. Joel calls out for Tommy to let him know breakfast is ready. oh god, Tommy. fuck. you think to yourself Sarah interrupts your thoughts of him staring at your ass last night. "Oh I forgot to mention, Tommy is my uncle he lives here." Joel turns around with a smirk "Oh they've met." Placing the pancakes in front of the two of you then goes to the fridge to put the whipped cream on top. Tommy races up the stairs from the basement and walks into the kitchen glancing at Joel and then at you, for a minute too long. "Good morning" Sarah says the same back, then he looks down at the pancakes, sitting next to you."pancakes whipped cream on top with no cherry" he remarks.
Joel notices the wordplay on it before you do, the look on Joel's face towards Tommy makes you really know what he meant. You just reply with a nervous laugh and dig into your pancakes. Tommy and Joel in unison stare at the way the cream is messily pouring over your lips and dripping down your chin.
Later on, at about 9PM, you are watching a new film with Sarah in her bedroom. her bedroom looks as if it hasn't changed since she was a preteen the baby pink walls match her sheer curtains.
Stuffed animals still litter her bed with a large purple duvet covering it, tiny wollen blankets kicked down to the bottom. Her phone dings and she looks at the notification and immediately sits up with a smile-ridden giggle, you look at her with a puzzled look. "GUESS WHO JUST GOT INVITED TO A HOUSE PARTY" she almost practically yells.
She rolls around on her bed and jumps up running over to her closet." good for you, whose party?" You ask as she strips down, trying on different outfit options." Remember that guy from our history course?" You tilt your head. "Wanna try to be a little more specific?" She looks almost insulted, "The whole yee-haw cowboy guy"
You scrunch your face up he wasn't hot but Sarah had a weird taste."Good luck with your cowboys I guess" she throws on one more outfit, smiling and jumping up and down."You're invited I know that like-" you cut her off "yeah I'm not going to some cowboy house party no. fucking. thank you." She smiles
"I assume this big girl can handle fending for herself, if not my dad and Tommy are at the bar in the basement. Don't be shy" She hugs you and leaves her room. You follow her out and walk her out the door.
Before you go upstairs to study you think it might be a good idea to at least, notify Joel that she was going out, in case she needed a ride. Maybe you just wanted to speak to him, even just glance at him.
You walk down the lit-up steps going down to the basement. A very modern house, "did he do the remodeling?" you think to yourself.
You reach the bar and are met straight away with the sound of music booming out of a speaker. Joel and Tommy hunched over the bar counter. You clear your throat, and they turn around in unison Joel's eyes soften and Tommy's go dark with need." You need anythin' darlin' er just looking for a drink. He holds his glass of whiskey to u, the ice jingles.
You smile then look to your feet, "Sarah went out thought I'd let ya know in case she needs a ride later or something." He smiles and before Joel can speak Tommy interrupts him, "Ah what a sweet girl, lookin' out for her girl always isn't that right sweetheart?"
Joel punches him on his thigh as a way to say knock it off, he laughs and holds his arms up in defense. He's long gone from what you can tell. "I guess" you awkwardly say, Tommy gets up and stumbles making a fool out of himself. You hold back a laugh and start to walk away "Jesus Tommy the fuck is wrong with you scaring the poor girl". You hear Joel say, as you walk back up the stairs.
You're long in concentration typing, writing notes with music playing in your earphones. A song plays and it reminds you of Joel you smile to yourself and try to get him out of your head.
You stretch your back then stand up pulling off your pants and stripping your sweater off to just be left in your white tank top and white panties, lace around the edges to match your tank top.
You sit back down, putting your headphones back in. You continue studying for another good twenty minutes, and when you feel a large hand touches your shoulder you jump.
The hand pulls back and grips the chair behind you. Pulling out your earphones and turning to look who it was, a relief it's Joel. "Didn't mean to scare ya darlin' just wanted to check-" he takes a glance down at your body, slower than he has before then back up to your face. "-To see how you're doing without Sarah here, didn't mean to interrupt your studying".
You smile, copying him looking him up and down you stop at the slowly building tent in his pants you quickly look back up at him with a blush, he smiles knowing exactly what you were blushing at. "Uh I needed a study break anyways". You stand up and walk over to the bed sitting on the end. Joel's gaze follows you then his body.
He stands in front of you just admiring you. "I'm doing okay not like we were really doing much, not really a cowboy party kind of p-" He sighs and takes a step closer, your knees touching his legs now."God if I thought that lil pajama set was skimpy, I can't 'magine what you'd call what ya wearin' right now." The last part almost came out as a growl.
The harshness of his words, how close he is to you is damping your panties. He reaches to touch the lace strap on your top, completely melting into his touch.
He pushes your knees apart with his own, the denim rubbing against your bare skin. He looks down, you hide your face with your arm, if you weren't blushing before you'd definitely be purely red up to the top of your ears now.
Your knees are so weak you think if you had to stand up right now you fall straight to the floor.
A smirk comes to his face, and he moves your arm away holding it tightly on the bed."My my darlin' those pretty little panties are ruined, such an easy thing you are." It's hard to breathe now, your hands fists the blanket. Joel reaches down touching slit to clit over your soaked panties.
you let out a soft quiet whimper of his name. He pulls his hand away, and you sigh at the loss. He furrows his eyebrows looking at your open mouth, putting his wet fingers into his mouth and sucking. Pulling them out with a pop followed by a grown, the smirk coming back to his face bigger than before." such a good girl being this wet for be 'nd I've barely touched ya."
You whimper at his words "Please touch me joel, I need you." He laughs slightly at your words then unbuckled his belt pulling it off with one hand, the other reaching out to hold your face.
He unbuttons and pulls the zipper down, revealing a sliver of skin and his dark blue boxers. He tilts your head up, and you can see the need in his face way more prominently than Tommy's need earlier. you almost moan at how hot it is.
You swear you're dripping onto the bed by now creating a puddle of your own need and you're just sitting in it, for him.
"Do you want this baby?" He pulls his jeans down slightly revealing the tent in his boxers, it looks way bigger not being trapped in his pants the tip leaking precum, wetting a spot on his boxers.
You nod he shakes his head and grips his bludge "I needa yes darlin'" you smile. "I want it Joel, I haven't stopped thinking 'bout it since last night"
You put your hand on his he pulls his away, you pull down his boxers to below his balls then he sits next to you.
"God. Holy fucking Jesus." You thought.
You'd felt it in his jeans rubbing against you. He was massive then and now with it actually exposed, you couldn't put into words how big he was. Harder than last night, precum dripping out the warm red tip, thick veins covering his length. The girth alone has your mouth watering.
"Holy fuck Joel it's so-" he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear then gets close to your ear to whisper "Big? ya think you can take it sweet thing? Want me to stretch out that sweet little pussy of yours."
All you can manage is a whimper then he grabs your face and kisses you.
Starting out slow and sweet then the more moans and whimpers that are shared, it heats up. Getting rougher, more aggressive.
You pull away to spit on your hand, and he watches you "Uh uh no spit. I want you to stick those pretty little fingers into those soaked panties and use you."
He takes your hand wiping it on his jeans, pulled down to his mid-thighs. You look to him as you embarrassingly lower your hand, he nods when your hand finally dips into your panties feeling around to collect some of your wetness he groans muttering "fuck" under his breath.
You pull your hand out making your panties snap back at you, Joel's eyes are stuck on your dripping fingers.
you grip Joel rubbing the tip with your thump, then moving your hand down to his base coating every last inch with you.
Your fingers don't touch around his girth. "Good girl" A moan slips out. You quicken your pace "good fucking girl" a whimper slips out this time, you focus your hand around the tip moving your hand up and down. Occasionally just rubbing the red dripping tip.
"Ah just like that..ugh don't stop." His breathing is heavier, his head thrown back only coming back down to look at you and your hands wrapped around him. If he stared at you the whole time he would cum right there and then.
You decide to add your other hand to focus better on all of his length or at least as much as your two fist covers, three hands would cover him fully but you don't have that.
Adding the second hand was the best idea you ever came up with in your life, the whimpers outweighing the moans and the mindless words coming out of him right now are fucking. golden.
"Oh fuck look at ya, your ugh sweet ah lil hands are barely fittin' around me." He jerks his hips up into your hands.
"Just like that.. oh you sweet fuckin' thing." Another hip buck this time he looks at your hands wrapped around him, his face screws up a loud whimper followed by a moan falls out.
"Just like that ohh darlin' I love your fuckin' hands" He jerks into your hands a couple times in a row desperately.
His breathing is at an all time high, sweat is forming on his forehead the whimpers don't stop.
"Ah darling fuck, fuckin' god 'm gonna ugh". You pull your hands away, looking up at him. "Darlin' why'd you stop-" You stop his words by putting his leaking tip into your mouth, sucking it, and swirling your tongue.
"Fuckkk your mouth is straight fuckin' gold" You start bobbing up and down, taking only about a quarter of his length into your mouth, working the rest with your hand.
Joel groans grabbing your hair, he fucks into your mouth the tip hitting the back of your throat makes you gag.
He groans, starting to face fucking into you making you repeatedly choke and gag on him. "mm listen to my good girl choking 'nd gagging all over my dick, I love your throat darlin', such a ugh good fuckin' girl".
You pull back slightly and he pulls you right back down, pushing him even deeper into your throat. The loudest moan you've heard slipped out of him.
His pace quickens, roughly fucking down your throat. "Ah fuck 'm gonna cum, all down this sweet fucking throat."
He grabs your throat feeling himself fuck into your throat, squeezing it to get an even tighter grip around him.
A grunt followed by warm ropes being shot down your throat, with one last thrust and he pulls you off with a pop. You look up at him with teary eyes, spit ropes connecting you to him. "you look so fucking sweet like this, all fucked out by me, all fucking mine."
He tucks himself back into his boxers, sheds his pants, and climbs up on the bed. You follow him, straddling him and pulling him into a kiss.
He holds your hips grinding you on him, deepening the kiss. Teeth and spit are frequent in your inability to focus with how needy you are.
He flips you over kissing you for a couple seconds longer before pulling away and him adjusting to lay on his side facing you. Pulling your top off and discarding it on the floor, his face falling into your neck, he kisses and sucks, a moan falls from your lips.
He moves further down littering your collarbones and chest with dark purple hickeys. "I want everyone to know you're mine. Fuckin' Tommy can't hold himself back from what is mine, you're mine ya hear me?"
You whimper at his words, clenching your thighs together, he moves his hand down to grope your chest. "Yes Joel, ah all yours"
He's pleased with your response, he attaches his lips to your chest, moving his hands down your body memorizing every spot that he touches, that makes you squirm.
Reaching your panties he gets back on top of you, kneeling between your legs and grabbing your panties, you lift your hips for him and he tugs them off faster than you can think right now.
He eyes your dripping core almost drooling. "Look at that pretty little pussy all ready and beggin' for me."
He leans forward dragging two thick fingers over your aching clit, you whimper at his touch. Dragging lazy quick circles on it, your back is already arching at his experienced digits.
"Next time I'm fuckin' devouring this sweet pussy of yours." Drawing out a moan from you that you tried to suppress with no luck.
He quickens his pace on your clit, putting his other hand to your fluttering hole. He drags his fingers around your slit before entering, his two digits enter stretching you out deliciously.
You gasp, and your back arches as he starts to pump them in and out of you. "Jesus you're so fuckin' tight, nothin' but you has been in here am I right baby?"
You nod, you're so fucked dumb right now. All from just his fingers.
His eyes are glued to the way your hole eats his fingers right up, his fingers keeping a steading pace pumping in and out of you, the circles he's rubbing all on your clit.
You feel your orgasm building, but before you even say anything Joel is already saying it for you.
"Good fucking girl, already fluttering around my fingers, clenching them right tight, I know baby let it go. Cum for me." He inserts a third finger into you the stretch is insane, his fingers reaching places you could never no matter hard you would try.
He hits that soft spongy part in you, absolutely throwing you over the edge. You throw your head back and clenching your thighs together, but he keeps fucking you through your orgasm.
Joel's fingers have put you in a haze, you never wanna come out of, a feeling you never want to end.
He pulls his hands away, kissing you till your breathing slows down. The haze wearing off, and you're now wrapped up in Joel's arms laying on his chest.
When the sound of buzzing comes from Joel's jeans pocket, on the floor you lift your head up to look at him. He slowly gets up to check it showing it to you.
He answers it you can hear the muffled sound of drunk Sarah. "Sarah?' Joel says getting up, putting on his jean as he tucks his phone between his face and shoulder. "Dadddddddd, I'm fucking wasted come pick me up please, thank you WITH a cherry on top." He laughs. "Okay, text me where you are."
He hangs up, pocketing the phone then leans over to kiss you on your forehead.
"Good luck she's gonna beg you for food all the way home" he smirks "Oh I know." You give him a hug, a tight one.
"You did great darlin' get some sleep now, only sweet dreams for the sweetest girl."
You smile and nod, He leaves. Shutting the door, tip-toeing down the stairs. You get the energy to get a shower, put on some clothes before tucking yourself into bed and closing your eyes.
you do have the sweetest dreams ,, dream about joel all in your guts. if that counts.
part three: here
Check out my javi fic linked in my masterlist
an!!!! god OH MY FUCKING GODDDDDD. the amount of "good girl" in this fic makes me kinda think the reader might be a good girl?? I think I might have early on arthritis from this lmao. I stared this yesterday morning took about a ten hour break and only finished it TODAY at 9AM after pulling a all nighter. writing this fueled by many large iced coffees and the support of my friends, will now be working on my boyfriends!dad joel fic now might be a couple days before the next chapter comes out. reader giving that SLOPPY TOPPY lots of smut too much smut.
#joel miller#the last of us#bestfriends dad!joel x reader#bestfriends dad!joel#bestfriends dad joel#joel miller tlou hbo#tlou hbo#tlou joel miller#tlou joel#study break!joel#joel miller smut#joel miller tlou#joel miller x reader#joel x reader#joel miller x fem#joel miller x female reader#joel tlou#joel the last of us#best friends dad joel#joel x reader smut#joel miller series#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#bfd!joel x reader#bfd!joel#bfd!joel miller#study break!tommy#study break series#rottenblur
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heat lightning
6.5k | sub!joel miller x f!reader
gif credit: @jdmorganz
rating: 18+ MDNI
warning: NO OUTBREAK. established relationship, no age gap – up to you for joel's age but he has creaky knees so..., sub!joel, bratty!joel??, mommy kink, rope kink, dom/sub dirty talk, joel whimperin' n whinin', gagging, choking, slapping, spitting, edging (m receiving), oral (f receiving - face riding), piv (unprotected), praise kink (good boy, etc.), pet names (pet, baby boy, honey, etc.), a touch of humiliation/degradation kink (spoiler: a moment of cock shaming – every body is a lovely body!), size kink (he still got that thang tho), we walk by breeding ave., sickly sweet aftercare, lingerie. dude if i missed it - it's probably in here! no use of y/n
A/N: thank u to the sweet anon (u know who u are) who requested this almost a month ago. i hope it was worth the wait! love youuuuu!!! ♡
Joel liked having his way. Shocking.
This concept drew you to him, not only because you enjoyed being told what to do (every now and then), but even more that you wanted to challenge why he needed things to be his way in the first place.
You’ve been with Joel long enough now to know the mix of events that made him who he was. Nights and days where he felt insecure for exposing all there was to him, but he was willing to fish it out of him to you.
Only to you.
Tonight wasn’t unlike a handful of nights the two of you shared since being together and unraveling Joel’s vulnerability. It was beautiful, and in moments of softness, it was easy to reflect on how far he’d come. But, right now? You’re a little preoccupied.
---
It started earlier tonight. Joel refused to wear contacts for the fourth time in a week, and forgot his glasses just as much.
And guess who had to remind him? You! Of course! Every. Single. Time.
To wear his glasses, or put his contacts in. But the week was busy at work – Tommy gone off again. Or at least, this was his excuse. More and more excuses poured throughout the week until it was a mere grunt at your suggestion.
Your knuckles blanching until you just gave up entirely.
“Ah, fuck,” you hear from the kitchen, the view of Joel rubbing his eyes not long after the sound.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Joel,” words are sharp and you clench your teeth. It catches Joel off guard at first, his head shooting up to meet your cold stare. And before he can make an attempt to straighten you out, you stand up – rushing to the kitchen. “I tell you this at least twice a fucking week. ‘Joel, wear your glasses. Joel, have you put your contacts in today?’ you know why your eyes hurt so fucking much? Because you don’t listen to me, and I’m sick of it.”
“You know it’s been a rough week,” Joel’s tyrannical now, his jaw setting – ticking forward.
“Oh, I’m sorry – did I give you permission to speak?” you raise an eyebrow waiting for a reaction, but instead you witness the shift of his hips and the drop of his gaze.
He feels the energetic shift as much as you do, and seems into it. The hitch in his breath gave him away.
“No, ma’am.”
“Bedroom. Now. Swear to god, if you make me repeat myself.”
So he goes and you follow. And you bring a dining chair with you.
Placing it down, you go to the closet to grab some clothes before turning your heel to face a man whose cock shouldn’t be so fucking hard from getting your last nerve.
“I’m going to change, and you are going to sit on this chair. Naked. Do I need to repeat myself?”
Joel beseeches you silently with his dark stare and a steadfast shake of his head, “No, ma’am.”
You don’t respond because you don’t have to and usher yourself to the bathroom – door shuts behind you and you slip into something more dominating.
---
“Darlin’, it’s a little tight,” Joel rattles now, his strength to hold back waning. The rope that curled around the strong arches of his wrists tug harshly as it found tautness from behind the chair.
His wrists and ankles tied with knots that Joel taught you how to tie long ago.
The chair at the foot of the bed.
Feet planted firmly on the ground, you peer over him, changed into laced lingerie with leather accents. Red. Cinched at the waist, your tits bloom out from the cups — daring to spill but never do. You feel sexy, and you feel in control. And fuck, you look so good. Joel knows it, the way he sops you up just by his eyes.
He’s shorter than you like this, but his body still takes up so much space, and it’s intoxicating to observe Joel in such a submissive position in his sturdy frame.
“Is Darlin’ my name?” voice flat, you prop yourself up on the edge of the chair – tilting your head to scan over his body. You take your time with each part of him. Because his wrists are tied, yes, but you look down at the rest of him, completely stripped for you. His hips jolt involuntarily, pathetically really, all from your words and you really watch between his legs. The head of his cock pulsing with blush, weeping against his stomach and thigh as it arches. And he twitches at your gaze.
“Oh, he likes that,” you remark condescendingly, and on any other day you’d be eager to wrap your lips around him. To suck him until his toes curled and your name slipped through the air from his rough, but blissed out voice. But tonight was about taking the lead, teaching a lesson. Taking him how you wanted because you could. And maybe because you loved him and wanted him to experience – to just experience without the expectation of being in command.
“Now, tell me,” you start, teasing the tops of your fingernails grazing the length of his thigh slowly – humming in approval, his body shuddering, his grunts fill the air, “what’s my name, Joel?”
“M-mommy,” the word scorches his cheeks, causing him to bite into his bottom lip and his eyes squeeze shut, precum beading to the tip. His head hangs in unbearable arousal, chin lifting to catch your eyes. The soft brown of his eyes, full of desire and willingness to do anything for you. Anything… except doing what he’s told when he’s stubborn. Your core aches when you squeeze your thighs together for relief, but you don’t falter.
“Mommy!” a fake gasp, you lean over to pat him on the cheek before smacking the skin ten percent harder, “That’s right! Good boy!”
And that wrecks him, sends his hips flying off the seat as much as he can, but you’re quick to shove them down. “Ah, ah, ah. Not so fast, Mommy’s not done with you yet,” your fingers curl under his chin, coaxing him to look at you.
“How can you make me feel good, pet? Let’s use our words,” you lean down enough for him to see your tits pushed together like this and the look on his face– god, you’d bottle it. His brows wilted upwards, lips parting, and they’re so wet, so inviting, you want to kiss them for hours. The right toy for you to use in pursuit of getting yourself off.
“I—I c’n use my mouth. I wanna. Wanna be good t’ya, mama,” and he’s almost begging. He’s so close, you can tell he’s trying. It’s just that, he’s distracted– wants to devour you whole without having to ask, not like this. He’s still not used to saying the things you so easily offer him on any other day.
“You wanna be good to me,” you repeat mockingly, tongue darting to one side of your cheek, “That’s too bad. We’re not doing that yet, you still need to learn your lesson. Gotta make sure you know who’s in charge, don’t we, darlin’?”
You don’t let him answer before you sit back at the edge of the bed, your legs spread as they relax against the mattress. You watch Joel, how his head won’t look at you directly – not even if he wants to. He feels too shy, too ashamed for not listening to you, and honestly you’re sick of it because you look fucking hot.
So you clap your hand at his chin lightly, “Miller. Right here.”
Joel’s jaw clenches, and those deep eyes take their precious time to rake their gaze over you.
“Is that how you act when a gorgeous lady’s in front of you?”
Joel lifts his brows first, then his eyes, “No, baby– I’m sorr–”
“Not my name.”
You see Joel’s mandible flutter again in frustration now because yes, you’re grinding his gears, but the vulnerability makes him uncomfortable, and he grits out, “No, mommy. I’m. Sorry.”
“You’re on thin fucking ice Joel,” your arms cross over your chest, leaning forward to make eye contact, and though it makes your tits raise, your body language says it all: last chance.
That seems to make him reroute his stubbornnesses because he’s back to open expressions and spread thighs – thick as his cock that weeps pitifully against his abdomen and thigh.
“Yes, ma’am.”
If you were to admit it to yourself, you’re distracted. His cock looks so good, throbbing like that – bobbing with each twitch as his balls tighten along with it and he’s so perfectly thick your mouth waters, but it is not about making his ego feel good tonight. Not yet, anyway. He must understand this behaviour is unacceptable. Just when you think about caving, you’re reminded of how fucking obstinate he’s been and you get annoyed – dominant, all over again.
“Here’s how tonight's gonna go. I’m gonna touch myself, use your mouth, and if you’re good, I’ll ride your pathetic excuse of a cock. Sound good?” you flash a sardonic grin cutting him off when his mouth opens, “Good! Now shut the fuck up.”
It shouldn’t make him hard and it shouldn’t make slick gather between your legs, but of course it does because you’re both insatiable when it comes to each other. Fueling a fire that can’t be tamed anyway, you unfurl in front of him – one palm against the lush duvet while the other trails in front of you, through the lace of your panties. You squeeze your thighs together again, spreading your mess and there’s a wicked grin on your face because you know he knows just how it feels to have those thighs squeezing around his head. To make that messy pussy of yours glide over his features. And the damp fabric emits subtle sloshes from just how turned on you are by this. You love the opportunity to have the upperhand.
Joel, he looks rabid, eyes unable to move from your core while the sweetest sounds fall out of your mouth. Like a hypnotising trick from the circling of your clothed folds – a magician’s secret. His stare is so animalistic you almost want to egg him on like a dog: this what you want, boy? But you’ve got him right where you want him, and you don’t want to take him anywhere else.
“It feels good, Joel,” you confirm with no pornographic moans. Rather a solid melody to your tone. Grounded in your power. You want Joel to know you can make yourself feel good without him, despite it being very much because of him. “Better than you can make me feel.”
And Joel can’t take it anymore – he can’t stand it when you lie to him. He’s seen you with him. How you blossom under his touch until your thighs are shaking all on their own. Seen drool spill from the corners of your mouth as you take and take and take from him, slurred praises floating from your needy throat.
“That ain’t fuckin’ true,” he growls like a caged animal, hips squirming into the chair, and you stop pleasing yourself – wrist frozen as the pressure on your clit becomes lighter, eyes narrow.
“Did I let you fucking speak?” Question rhetorical, you slip your scanty panties off and wad them up before prying his mouth open and shoving them, crotch-side first, inside to mute any more rebukes. The taste of your sex coats his tongue and his moans are muffled, eyes roll back for a fleeting moment – as if he forgot what he was even saying to begin with. His wrists slightly turning colour from the resistance against the rope. Hog heaven, you can hear the southern phrase drawl from his lips without the words.
“And what? You think you can make me feel better than I can? You really think that?” Joel finally smartens up when he realises you’re naked from the waist down and can see the slick against the seams of your thighs while your legs are apart – how turned on you are by keeping him on a line, and god the air is thick. His eyelids droop to the sound of your voice, the scent and taste of you overcoming him as a piteous nod is given to you. Poor baby.
It should irk you, the fact that he believes he knows your body better than you do, but it rakes the coals instead. It’s in that he’s so eager to show you how he can get you there – makes you curious, your pussy tingles in anticipation, pulse rises.
“If I let you go, are you going to be compliant? Because if you think you’re in control, you’re wrong and I need to know you’ll be a good boy for me. Will you be a good boy for mommy if I tell you what to do?”
The strained pleas from the fabric and emphatic nods give you reason to follow through with your promise. And he looks like he means it, like you’ve worn him down to submit to you fully without restraint. You can tell he’s in pain from how hard he is. Like he’s being edged without even touching him. His hands must be numb, his body could tremble at the slightest touch.
It’s enough for you to waltz behind him. You loosen the rope, ghosting your hands over the other typically warm set and despite them being tingly – he can still feel you. His breath hitches, the slopes of his shoulders are so gorgeous from behind. The muscles of his back taut as they flex, their silent entreat for relief. “It’s okay,” you whisper, now that you can’t see him, you feel more inclined to be forgiving.
The arousal is a constant build between the two of you. When you let his wrists loose, he doesn’t move. Just rolls his knuckles into fists, bringing blood and oxygen back to the extremities. He’s good on his word, and makes that known when you untie his ankles. He’s giving it up to you – totally conceding, and moreover adores this side of you. He knows he’s the only one you could ever be this assertive with because the relationship you have creates room for it. Both of you feel safe. His teeth tighten around your panties when you come back around to him, and you cup your small hand, comparatively, to the side of Joel’s neck.
“You good little thing. Got mama so proud,” pushing his curls back, you pull the spit-soaked garment from between his teeth and he’s beaming, nudging his cheek against your touch hungrily. “Go lie on the bed, honey.”
His joints creak from age when he does, having sat there for what felt like an eternity but he does exactly as you say: nothing more, nothing less. Hums softly to himself at the feeling of being able to lie flat on his back because it feels so good, and in the brief moment it’s there without a role – your adoration for him, the gentle quirks that make him so delectable. He deserves to sit back like this, to let his brain just take rather than supply.
However impatient he may be in the process of submission.
“You are doing so well, Joel. I know you have a pristine mouth too, don’t you? Are you gonna show me your tongue?” Getting onto the bed, you walk on your knees as this newly obedient Joel sticks out his tongue flat for you to float over. Your throat dries at that, how perfect he can be for you like this. A smirk comes over your features, “Much better with your tongue out than running it all the time,” and you swear you see Joel’s teeth creep up in a similar smile, but you’re busy straddling his waist with your ass facing his chest to notice.
His strong nose bumps against your clit when you bracket his head. Sipping the air abrasively, your body seizes at the sensation. Clearly more sensitive than your confident words let on, but that’s just the thing – you are confident and extremely horny and you can admit it. So you give in, purring deliciously when you lower over his mouth until you’re sitting completely on his face.
“Love using this mouth for my cunt,” fingers tangle through the strands of his hair and you use it to roll your hips frantically, yet methodically, against the heat of his wet mouth. His tongue hits your folds succinctly, on purpose, and even though you haven’t allowed him to touch you, his movements are so precise it’s as if he’s rolling your hips for you.
“Fuck, you’re swimming in it now,” you groan, neck thrown back before leaning your neck over to the side to watch his eyes flutter shut – the slight shake of his achy jaw, the sweat at the top of his hairline. He’s putting in the work to take it, even when he feels like giving up.
The squelching of your juices has you in your own trance, and though you would wait for his cock to give into the prickling at the pit of your belly, you decide to go give in to what you want in the moment – to orgasm right here, right now. All over Joel’s face.
Pulling the top of your pubic bone, your clit exposes to the plush of lips beneath you. “Suck.” The instruction is simple compared to the stir of fireworks that he sets off inside you. Because he does what you say, and how you say it, instantly. Joel’s eyes roll back alongside his muffled, but satisfied moans that vibrate against the bundle of nerves he’s taking his time to satisfy. Wet suction sounds fill the room when the air breaks off, his tongue swirling right underneath the hood of you and you break out in a sweat from how impossibly good he is at this.
“Y-you’re so good for mommy,” you sound wrecked, Joel looks up at you when he catches just how gone you are. Loving to see you take what you want from him, using his mouth to pleasure yourself. You rock deeply, your hands knead over your lace-covered tits and when you look down at him again, he can’t keep his eyes off of you. Eating you like he worships you, and you’re certain he does.
But using him meant not warning him when you were close.
So it comes as no surprise, the influx of low, masculine, ached groans from beneath you when your body responds to its pleasure. Your fingernails dig into your fists as you shudder and moan above him, the lightning rising from your core to your limbs in a matter of seconds – and in waves. You lean forward, catching yourself at the headboard and let out a slight chuckle at the comedown. The two of you surfacing in between this power dynamic. “Shit.”
That’s short lived under your ruling, however, and you slide off of him – getting your bearings. Joel stays still, his mouth vivid pink to match his cheeks, beard and lips sheened with your slick. The look in his eye shows his constraint, his need for something and when you pluck your gaze down his body. His beautiful cock straining against his abdomen, a pool of precum greets you.
“This?” You raise both eyebrows, pointing between his legs, “This needs touchin’?”
“Please,” fuck, he sounds ruined – consumed with lust and need for anything you can give him. He’s really begging now, not the bullshit he tried to deliver you in the beginning.
“Okay, baby,” you coo, “You’re so good for me, gonna make you feel so good.” When you finally, finally acknowledge his cock, his abdomen jolts though you barely touch his sides. You laugh through your nose briefly, “That bad, darlin’?” His head sways ‘yes’ against the pillow before saying it, and you waste no more time in your pursuit to obliterate him now.
So you straddle him. Right at his waist, angling above where his twitching cock lies. You can feel the heat radiate off the both of you. Your core pulsing from your orgasm, wet from slick and spit. You have some wits about you now that you came, and it aids you in authorising the next step – the step that has every nerve at the edge of its seat for Joel.
Joel’s body. The taut skin, the hair down his arms and across the landscape of his chest down his middle. Your own body fills with anticipation when you anchor your hips further down until your folds are greeted by the underside of his length and it’s unhurried when you both shudder in response.
“Sh-shit, shit, darlin’–mama,” he inhales sharply, those words transitioning to whimpers when you glide your hips over his cock back and forth with intention – applying more pressure with each pass.
“Yeah, you like that?”
Joel’s tongue skates over his bottom lip as he nods frantically, and you still yourself.
“Nuh uh. Words, tell me. Need to hear you say it, Joel.”
“F-feels so good, honey. Feels like my kinda paradise.”
Or at least that’s what you are pretty sure you hear. It’s rushed from his feverish breaths, but he’s doing his best. Wants to make an impression that he is committed to giving in. It’s when his eyes slip shut do you lean your body over him, tilting his chin, you wrap one hand around his throat though it doesn’t quite reach around to completion.
“You beautiful man. Keep your eyes on me, yeah?”
Joel blinks them open to see your hooded eyes above him, unable to hide just how in awe he is.
“Y’look gorgeous, mama,” and shit– you feel your cunt clench around the absence of him at that. At how candid and altruistic his words are in the moment.
“You’re one to talk,” you run the tops of your fingers against his beard, hips languid. “Stay right here. My good boy. M’gonna take this big fucking cock. That’s right, isn’t it? Make you know for certain who it belongs to.”
And he loves hearing you talk about him like this. Looks so serene as you sit upright, peeling the rest of your layers off until you’re both naked and he looks like he desperately wants to touch you, but you give him a stern look – not yet. Not until I take you myself.
Reaching behind, you press the head of his cock at your entrance and hiss at the instant stretch. Not working yourself up with his fingers shows when you envelop him like this, and you can feel him digging his heels into the bed from just how you feel around the head of him.
“M-Mommy!”
The sound of him whining is symphonic to your ears.
“Shhhh, you can take it.” The role reversal makes you shiver, your wet sex moving down a little more before you pull up, popping off of him completely and his hips stammer trying to follow you, but he soon realises the edge you’re bringing him to.
He’s greeted with your sinister smile.
“What, honey?” You lean over him, forcing his chin up, you deliver a slap to his cheek before sliding down his cock again – working him up and down, then off again.
His bottom lip trembles and puffs. He’s losing his cool, hands ghosting your hips because he knows better than to touch you like this. Not when he’s so close to getting what he wants. The heat, the fucking heat from them – you shake.
“P-p, mama, mmngh,” his whimpers put you in a daze. How he feels so good he can’t even form a proper sentence. Your free hand claws at his chest while the other at your front edges him – rocking against the underside of him again. Minutes feel like hours when you rile him up like this, and you know you look a mess too. Fucked out, nipples peaked and you catch his gaze on them – his hunger for you extends through the room leaving heat on your skin as it radiates, the energy bouncing off from this tantric experience. The eye contact is insane: Joel’s pupils dilated, eager against the constant spasm of his cock against your messy folds.
All humidity, sweat, and sex make their presence irrevocably known.
You’re slipping.
But you muster one last discipline, leaning down so your tits graze against his chest. You brush your nose against his, insisting his precum spreads against your entrance. He grunts, teeth together, hips grinding as best as he can without breeding you into your submission. And fuck, you’d almost allow it.
Almost.
“Should’ve worn your fucking glasses.” You whisper against his lips, your clit brushing against the coarse hairs of his lower abdomen, and it’s exactly then does he spill over his breaking point.
“I’ll wear them, I’ll wear them!” And, fuck, Joel sounds pained – he sounds sorry, and he sounds desperate. “Please! Please just let me come, mama. I wanna paint ya up so good, honey. P-please, mama! I’ll get fuckin’ lasik – please, just lemme in that perfect pussy!”
That’s the green light.
Placing him back inside, your hips grind on him shallowly. Both hands tighten around his throat, albeit a bit looser than the one fist he’d have around your neck – but it seems to do the trick and you buzz in satisfaction before a choked moan fills your lungs: the sound he’s been craving. Your body giving in, doing what it does. It’s nature, after all, giving into these feelings. “Fucking take this cunt. Fill mommy up, yeah? You wanna make me a real mama, baby? C’mon, let go for me. You can let go, you can move.”
It’s a lightswitch. It’s flipping a breaker, giving Joel such permission.
You yelp when he tosses you off of him. Onto your back, he’s on his knees within a blink – gripping your thighs, he pries you apart before his cock spears inside you with little remorse, and “Oh-my god – your cock!” you scream. It’s exactly what you need now. You nod through knitted brows, praises fill the space between you. You take his chin between your thumb and pointer, one arm around his shoulders you pry his lips apart to transfer spit right inside his mouth. Your tongue glides over his and he drinks straight from the source. You can feel his Adam's apple wobble as it swallows what you’re giving him underneath the pad of your thumb. “That’s it, that’s a good boy,” you mutter sloppily from the rutting of his deviant hips.
Gravity’s against you when you spit in his mouth again, getting some of it on your chin and nose, but fuck, you don’t care. You want it filthy like this with your head half off the bed, his fingers plucking your nipples as it ripples pleasure down your center. “I’m doin’ okay, mama? This whatcha need?” This sly fucker. “S-s’perfect!” The requirement of reassurance fastens you in the leadership role you assumed in the beginning, and you’re so fucking thrilled Joel’s your partner. How he can deliver you mindblowing thrusts, yet still look at you through his lashes like he’s the softest motherfucker on the planet. A gleam of pride in his eyes and at the corner of his lips when he hears your juices be tapped in a fast tempo by his heavy balls. Like giving you pleasure is the pearl he longs to hold for dear life itself in his capable hands.
Of course, he circles your clit for good measure. Of course he would. Little shit. It works like a charm.
He knows your body, said it himself. How it operates, how to take you there. And you’re panting, hips lift to be greeted by his thrusts all the way to the base of your stomach – achieving the spongy spot only Joel can reach.
You feel it happen like a coiling, a buildup of thin air and then all at once: immense pleasure. It snaps, your body convulsing around his cock, core fluttering as your moans get higher, and you think he’d slow down, but it makes him work harder. You try to keep your eyes on him, but it’s just no use, he’s too good at his job. “F-fuckin’, mmngh,” you can’t get out much else, but you’re soaking his cock – what else could possibly be said? Your tits bounce to his thrusts and you can tell this is it for him. He’s been so proficient at keeping it together all this time. Your eyes pop open then, lips wet, you tug for him to come closer. You don’t fucking care that his sweat sticks to your shoulder when he buries his forehead against your neck.
Joel keeps his whimpers close to your ear. His moans of your name, his passion for this feeling – all of it, right against you. Like a secret, like a prayer and you’re the divine goddess in every moment of reverence.
“Can’t last,” he drawls, a coherent sentence flows through him for a moment and you nod, mouth brushing against the red of his neck. “Give it to me, Joel.” Lips dance at his pulsepoint as the contact bounces from his thrusts, and you can hear his heart thud from outside his body. It floods you, the sawing of his cock inside, the swelling sensation against your walls. Tugging his hair, you pull him back just enough to see his faded eyes, “Give me every drop, baby boy. Come for mommy.”
His lips attempt to make contact with yours, but really all he can do is breathe heavily into your mouth and it’s dizzying, being each other’s oxygen. “S-s… so p-perf–,” he tries, he really tries in making the words connect, but even his core feels shaky from his forearms on either side of your head. You snake your hands around his throat once more, and that’s fucking it.
Joel’s sounds are a mix of the low grunts you know, tailending with particular whimpers that leave you moaning back to him like a call to each other. Holy fuck, you’ve never heard him make that sound before. And he’s good on his promise – coating your inside sticky with his substance, your own vibrational tone is low in your throat as you hum in approval. Until he rides it out. Until his pleasure turns sensitive and his hips come to an end.
“Oh, baby,” you praise, delicate hands leaving his throat, you pet his back – warm and masculine and rippled with muscles that he attained from his work. He’s out of breath, and you both laugh at it, pressing tender kisses to his nose and lips.
“Might fuckin’ die at this rate.”
“Well, at least we had a good run.”
It feels empty when Joel pulls out of you, his lanky body shakes the bed when he gracefully thwacks onto the mattress beside you.
“Mmmng.”
A flawless response. Mmmng, indeed.
You stretch your arms overhead, facilitating a yawn in the process.
And you don’t ignore the way it feels to have his cum spill out of you. Hot and sticky and where it’s meant to be.
“Stay there,” you whisper, rolling onto your side, “You did so good. I’m so proud of you, baby.” You even speak differently now – tender and light, peppering kisses all over his tired face in satisfaction. Slipping up to your feet, you go to the adjoined bathroom and run the bath. Putting a couple of drops of your favourite essential oil to make the sensual experience last in the afterglow. You peek your head out from the bathroom door when it’s ready and give him a gentle look of compassion. “It’s ready.”
Joel grunts when he propels all of his upper body strength to sit up in one go. You can’t get enough of him. The way he looks – sleepy and fucked, arms thick and shoulders broad. You have both earned this bath, even if it’s crowded. He sinks in, and you get in front of him, and honestly you both close your eyes for a long while. Exhausted, used. He wraps his arms around the front of your shoulders, and it’s regulatory to your nervous system.
“I really am sorry,” he finally gruffs, wide palms cater to your shoulders as you melt and sink into the bathwater with him. “This week’s been… it don’t matter. You tell me ‘bout my eyes all the time, and I never listen. I will, I promise. I didn’t mean t’make your life harder.”
You frown at the last bit, turning in the water so your chest is against his. Drops spill out the tub when you do.
“You never make my life harder, Joel.”
“Seems like it,” and you can tell he’s not saying it to play the victim. He’s vulnerable and feels safe enough to share this shame with you. “Seems like I end up fuckin’ somethin’ up.”
No. You won’t be having any of that.
Taking his cheeks between your hands, you shake your head in tandem with your words. “Not even close, do you understand?” Sternly, you keep his eyes poured into yours. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I mean it. You make everyday brighter. Even when you’re a royal pain in my ass.”
You both join in with laughter before you rest your warmed cheek to the hairs on his chest. “I swear.”
Joel’s throat vibrates to the tune of your last words, and fingers comb through your hair, leaving you both to flutter your eyes shut in the all-too-small bathtub.
“Okay, I believe you. But only ‘cuz I’m a pain in your ass.”
You take in his warmth, so much as sniffing at his words, and it feels good to be connected like this after those moments of taking matters into your own hands. It feels good for both of you to be unarmed to each other without consequence.
When it's time for you to get out, you dry off before holding out a towel to wrap around him and you lean up, pressing your lips to his – both naked and comfortable. Basking in the aftermath – the scene you two created in the bedroom you transition into. Your eyes scan over the bed: the unkept version of sheets, pillows haphazardly thrown together and you individually slip your clothes on. It feels nice to have a soft fabric cloak over your skin, his t-shirt fitting easily from the worn material. Joel takes your hand in one of his, the dining chair in the other. You look back at the room before flipping the light off. At least for a moment, you’re both pretty tired and will work around the mess soon.
Then there's the kitchen. Where it started. But you don’t feel the same aggravation creep up as it did before. Instead, Joel wraps his arms protectively around you when you rise to your tiptoes to grab a couple of mugs from the cupboard. It feels like slipping into a warm pool, and you never want to leave. He is more enchanting than the tub could ever be.
“Hot liquid for my man?”
“Y’could just say tea, I ain’t gonna gag, you know?”
You snicker, turning the kettle on and closing your eyes as his chin tucks at the crease of your neck, not so sure he means it. Coffee? Yes. A blend of chamomile and lavender? You weren’t so sure. But he doesn't turn his nose up when you press the teabag to him, so you sneak a kiss and you plop one bag in each cup.
“I dunno, you might gag,” a knowing smirk grows at the side of your cheek that Joel’s at and you mercifully knock temples, as if your brain waves could send each other the memories you have from tonight. Everything primal and raw, all for the both of you.
“No more gaggin’ tonight,” there’s a laugh in Joel’s words and you scratch his beard idly as you pour your hot drinks when it’s time. “That’s alright, baby boy. Mama can handle a little bit of gagging if it means you’re taking.”
“You better watch it,” smile behind his voice, his nose nudges the edge of your jaw and a shudder draws out a small purr from deep in your chest – especially because you know there’s not an ounce of a menacing tone behind the threat.
“I’m not doing anything,” the grin transfers to your face and you turn to face him, arms wrapping around his shoulders because you can and he pulls you up until your feet leave the ground. It’s a stretch that feels good, your heart’s content.
“Yeah, you’re just so good. You’ve forgotten what it’s like to be bad unlike us common folk.”
And that makes your cheeks rush with blood because you know it’s only a matter of time before the tables turn. Before you’re caught doing something Joel has told you thousands of times to do or don’t, and he has you in some precarious position to drive you back to the version of your best self.
Still, it’s funny, and you nose against the column of his neck – all sweat still mixed with the bathwater and something so innately, masculinely, Joel Miller. “Not too good, just clever. I get away with a lot more than you think, old man.”
“Easy.” His tone shifts all too easily into a warning, his hips pinning you to the edge of the countertop. Your eyes widen before you press your index finger to his lips, shushing him.
“Relax,” you pet his shoulders, before leaning up to kiss his eyelids, “I like that you’re an old, senile man I can swindle.”
“Goddamn, you’re at record time in attempting to prove just how misbehaved y’really are.”
Finishing the tea, you hand his mug off with a nonchalant shrug.
“I learn from the best, I guess.”
You wait a beat.
“So… lasik, huh?”
Joel practically chokes on his beverage. “Uhhh…,”
“Great! I’ll book the appointment tomorrow!”
You won’t (probably), but the look on his face is priceless.
“Yeah, yeah.” That makes Joel smile eventually, his rough hand cupping the side of your face before planting a dichotomously tender kiss to your forehead, and you are steadfast to reciprocate the affection.
The only thing that matters, anyway.
No matter all the hardships, the restless nights. It’s this. It’s delivering Joel to his knees as he worships you, then securing him with a warm cup of liquids in the form of tea, bath, the undulating nature of your arms in their energetic vibrations when they find his frame.
You would take care of him. You would catch him.
Like how rivers bend and rush to oceans:
Everything leads back to him.
taglist: @cool-iguana @livingdeadmaria @sinfulrock @jasminedragoon @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @scarletthefierce @pedritoferg - comment to be added, and please let me know if i missed you!
#bee's requests#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#sub!joel#sub!joel miller#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#tlou fic#tlou#tlou smut#tlou fanfiction#bratty!joel#bratty!joel miller#by bee#joel the last of us#the last of us smut#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller the last of us
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Fall Into Me - Chapter Three: No Mirror for Monsters
dbf!Joel x f!reader
Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.
Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.
Word Count: 4.3k
Chapter Warnings: Mature, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings, confusion, and self doubt. Joel goes on a date but not with you. Two idiots falling and pining for each other. Lotta swearing, because, yeah, I like it. Reader has long enough hair for a ponytail and likes comfy clothes. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used by her dad.
Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics
Thank you for reading this little tale! I did not expect all the love - my heart is fit to burst over all the wonderful comments and reblogs!
Chapter Two | Main Masterlist
“Good morning, Millers!” you greeted as you let yourself into their house the following morning. Nearing late October, it was a beautiful day outside and the crisp morning air made you happy. It would heat up later, but for now you were enjoying the comfort of a beloved hoodie and yoga pants.
“Hi darlin’,” Joel replied with a lot less enthusiasm as he leaned against the kitchen doorframe. Still nursing his first cup of coffee, his sparkling personality hadn’t kicked in yet. “Sarah’s just gettin’ dressed. Want some coffee?”
“Nah, don’t drink the stuff. Smells good, but the taste is just…” You scrunched up your nose, at a loss for the right word to describe how utterly disgusting you found the taste of coffee. You moved through the house to join him in the kitchen.
Turning back to the counter with a chuckle, Joel poured himself another cup and shrugged. “There’s no accounting for taste, I guess. More for me, then.”
“There’s the silver lining!” you teased. “So, you guys have any big plans this weekend?”
“Nah, should be qui—Oh shit, I almost forgot!” Joel closed his eyes, bumping a fist against his forehead. His gaze was shuttered when it met yours again. “Would you mind watching Sarah on Saturday evening?”
“Yeah, sure. I don’t have any plans, so I’m happy to hang with the nugget. You got a hot date or something?” You meant it as a joke, but the way Joel winced clued you in. Your face fell at his next words, and you hoped he didn’t notice.
“Uh, yeah. Tommy set it up.” Joel drained the rest of his cup, tossing it into the sink, and ran an anxious hand through his curls. “First one in a while, ya know.”
No, you didn’t know. But it wasn’t really your business, was it? Sarah’s arrival in the kitchen saved you from having to say anything else as the little girl launched herself at you.
“Hey nugget,” you said, wrapping your arms around her little body as she clung to your waist. Despite your best efforts, your greeting lacked your prior enthusiasm. You could feel the heavy weight of Joel’s gaze on you like a laser, but you refused to look in his direction. “You ready to go?”
“Uh huh, I already ate breakfast,” Sarah said proudly, spinning to hug her father. “Bye Dad, love you.”
You turned away, already heading for the door as Joel pulled her in for a bear hug, feeling your heart constrict at how much they loved each other. You didn’t bother to say goodbye.
Joel had a date.
A date who wasn’t you.
Man, that fucking sucked.
Could you blame the guy, though? He was still young and handsome, hardworking and responsible to a fault. And, most of all, he didn’t know that you harbored growing feelings for him. Nor could he ever find out, you reminded yourself, not when your dad was his best friend.
The ride to drop Sarah off was full of silence, your mind weighed down with thoughts of Joel and the valiant effort of trying to convince yourself to stop thinking about him. Coming out of the fog as you moved up in the school drop-off line, you wished Sarah a good day and watched as she bounced up the steps into the building. You envied that sweet obliviousness of youth.
Driving away from the school, anxiety started to kick in. The thought of going back to your house to sit alone as the four walls closed in on you made your stomach churn. You drove around for an hour, no real destination in mind, and ended up at Peace District Park. With nothing much else to do, you walked the trails of the urban oasis and let nature work its magic in calming your nerves.
It worked.
As you sat on a bench watching songbirds flutter around the flora, you texted one of your best friends from high school who still lived in the area. You needed a girl’s night out.
Distractions were dangerous in his line of work, but Joel struggled to get his mind to focus all morning. He fixated on the way your face fell and your entire demeanor changed when he mentioned the date, like you were disappointed, hurt even. But that couldn’t be, could it?
There was no way you felt something for him. Was there?
Joel went over and over every interaction between you two since the day you met, trying to see if he was reading into things too much. He wasn’t the most observant guy, he knew that well enough, but there were moments when he’d catch you gazing at him with this look of wonder in your eyes… that had to mean something. Right?
Fuck. He was really bad at this stuff. So out of practice and lacking confidence.
Maybe he just imagined it all. Maybe you had something else on your mind and didn’t give a shit about someone like him going on a date.
What could he do about it if you liked him anyway? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. So, what did it matter. You were JB’s daughter and Sarah’s babysitter, nothing more and nothing less.
Joel’s mind continued to cycle through the same thoughts all day, until he smashed his thumb with a hammer because he was so distracted. Pissed off and in pain, he called it a day a couple hours early, leaving Tommy in charge of the site. He needed to get home and put some ice on his thumb.
By some cosmic coincidence, he arrived home at the same time as you and Sarah. He couldn’t hide his thumb from your eagle eyes as the three of you entered the house.
“Jesus Christ, Joel!” you hissed, trying not to swear in front of Sarah, your delicate hand already reaching for his larger, dirtier one. “What happened to your thumb?”
“It got in the way of a hammer,” Joel mumbled, doing his best not to wince as you gently prodded at the swollen digit. He also did his best to ignore the softness of your skin and the warmth of your touch on him, wishing you would touch him everywhere. “You don’t have to fuss, darlin’. It just needs some ice.”
“Oh, hush up, you. Go wash your hands then sit down and relax, I’ll get you some ice and aspirin to help with the swelling. You’re lucky it’s not broken!”
“Bossy lil’ thing, aren’t you,” he grumbled, doing exactly as you ordered once his boots were kicked off to the side of the foyer. Sarah nestled against him on the couch once he sat, fussing over his thumb just as much as you did. His lips quirked upwards at the thought that it meant you both cared about him.
You returned minutes later with a bag of frozen peas, two white pills, and a bottle of cold beer in hand. “Take these,” you directed, offering him the pills and beer. Once he swallowed, you placed the bag on his hand, carefully adjusting it to wrap around his thumb. Your teeth bit into your bottom lip as you concentrated on not hurting him and he nearly groaned as an ache built up in his belly at the sight.
“Thank you, darlin’,” Joel said, voice deep and husky before clearing his throat. His eyes clocked your movements as you stood up straight and your eyes widened when they met his half-lidded gaze. He catalogued the moment to add to the growing list of moments between the two of you that hinted at something deeper, something more lingering in the air.
You waved off his thanks and headed back to the kitchen, calling over your shoulder, “I’ll make some dinner for your two before I leave.”
He wanted to follow you, to let you know he wanted you to stay for dinner, and maybe watch a movie with him and Sarah afterwards, but Sarah’s sweet little voice distracted him.
“Will you help me with my homework, Daddy?” She peered up at him with eyes that matched his own and his heart swelled with love.
“Of course, my little nugget. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
They worked on math problems until you called them for dinner, Joel relieved at the break. An exceptionally bright girl, Sarah didn’t really need his help, but she enjoyed it when he tried. Math made his head hurt, a headache starting to build between his eyes. The headache grew at the sight of only two plates full of spaghetti on the table.
“You’re not eating?” Sarah’s voice squeaked, making her dissatisfaction clear. Turning to him as you shook your head, she added, “Daddy! Tell her she can stay!”
Joel’s mouth barely opened before snapping shut again. You were already speaking, cutting off whatever he would have said.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, nugget. I gotta go now.”
“Oh, okay.” Sarah’s disappointment broke his heart, and Joel felt helpless.
“You sure you can’t stay? I thought maybe we could watch a Disney movie after.” He looked at you with unmasked hope in his eyes. He wanted you to stay even more than his daughter did, but he couldn’t tell you that.
Something flashed in your eyes but disappeared before Joel could figure out what it was. “Sorry, I have plans with a friend and I can’t stay. You two enjoy the movie without me,” you said with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’ll come by at 4:30 tomorrow, okay?”
Joel nodded, cringing at the reminder of his date, and watched you leave with a pang of disappointment rivalling Sarah’s.
Emily never changed. She was still the prettiest girl in the room and funny as hell, lifting your mood just like she did back in high school. The pair of you sat at a swanky bar downtown, catching up like you never missed any time together. You stayed in touch a bit over the years, but the distance and different priorities led to your friendship taking a back seat to everything else. Now that you were back, it was easy to dive right back into that unbreakable bond the two of you always shared and pick up where you left off.
You didn’t realize how much you missed that bond until now.
The bar filled with the typical Friday night after work crowd as the two of you sipped at your drinks and rehashed the past few years. Soon, the conversation moved to your current love life – or, more accurately, your complete lack of one.
“So, you seeing anyone lately?” Emily asked, signaling to the bartender that you were ready for another round. “Last I heard, you were with that dude… what was his name? The one that would gaslight you and always insisted your tears were weaponized when he made you cry.”
“Yeah, Tom. That asshole. I wasted too much time on him not knowing any better, but we broke up about a year and a half ago, thank God.” You cringed at the thought of all the emotional damage you had to overcome after that one. You worked hard on finding yourself again after that disaster. “No, I’m not seeing anyone.”
Ever the receptive one, Emily picked up something in your tone that you couldn’t hide. Tilting her head curiously, clocking your movements with her sharp eyes, she continued, “But there’s someone who caught your eye? Do tell!”
Without hesitation, you launched into a long-winded explanation of how you met Joel and how you’re now a mess over the guy.
“Dad’s best friend, huh? When did you become such a cliché?” Emily teased, her shoulder gently bumping yours. “He sounds dreamy, though!”
“I am not a cliché! We don’t all get to all get to marry our high school sweetheart because we met ‘the one’ when we were 15. Talk about a cliché!” You cackled, drawing the attention of two men in suits a few seats down from you, but you ignored them.
“Alright, alright,” Emily mock surrendered. “Back to dad’s best friend. What is the problem? The JB I remember is a cool guy who wouldn’t have a problem with you dating his friend, not when said friend is only a bit older than you and such a good guy.”
That caught you by surprise. “You really think my dad would be okay with it?”
Emily shrugged. “I mean, I haven’t talked to your dad in years, but I remember him being a pretty reasonable guy and he always wanted the best for you. Why wouldn’t he want you to be with someone responsible and caring like this Joel guy?”
You nodded thoughtfully, your teeth worrying your plump bottom lip. “Even if my dad was cool with it, there’s the fact that Joel is not interested. He’s going on a date tomorrow, for fuck’s sake.”
After a moment of consideration, Emily asked, “Does he do that often? Date, I mean.”
You shook your head, fingers dancing absentmindedly along the edge of the bar. “Apparently not. He said it’s the first one in a long time.”
Emily’s eyes narrowed. “And you don’t find the timing suspicious?”
That caught you off guard, your eyes darting to hers. “Should I?”
Shoulders shrugging beneath long layers of dark hair, Emily hummed. “Maybe? From what you just told me about your interactions, I find it interesting that he’s suddenly going on a date. Makes me think he has feelings and he’s struggling with them just like you are.”
“Yeah, I don’t know about that.” You blew off her observations, you couldn’t afford to start having hope now when he was going on a date tomorrow. Instead, you changed the subject. “So, how are you and Ed doing?”
The rest of the night passed in a blur of conversation and mixed drinks with the occasional interruption from a few brave men hitting on you. It crossed your mind to flirt with one or two of them, but you were having too much fun catching up with Emily and blew each of them off. Before you knew it, the hour was late and Emily’s husband, Ed, picked you both up to make sure you got home safe.
“What the hell am I doing?” Joel asked his reflection as he tried on his fourth shirt from his closet. He wasn’t looking forward to this date at all, his mind a mess between feeling guilty about leaving Sarah, the confusing mix of emotions revolving around you, and his complete lack of confidence.
Torn between trying too hard and not trying at all, he huffed in frustration, ripping the buttons of the shirt open before tossing it onto the growing pile of discarded clothes on his bed.
He had no business going on a date. What had he been thinking when he agreed to go?
Joel slumped onto his bed in defeat, his right fist coming up to bump against his forehead. How could he ever think that going on a date would get his mind off you? Not to mention, he felt like a dick for asking you to watch Sarah while he went on said date.
God, he really wasn’t good with this kind of shit.
A glance at the clock got him moving. You were due to arrive shortly, and he had to pick Annica up for a 5:30 reservation Tommy insisted he make. There was no room to dilly dally.
Another glance through his closet and Joel settled on a blue flannel and dark jeans, paired with newer black boots. Best to just be himself, he thought. Using a bit of gel, he pushed his curls back from his face. His beard was freshly trimmed, and he ran his truck through the car wash earlier in the day.
“That’s as good as it’s gonna get,” he said to his reflection before leaving his bedroom, the doorbell ringing as he reached the bottom of the stairs. Joel opened the door to find you standing there, your feet shifting uncertainly. You looked tired, yet beautiful as always and he gulped. “Hey, why didn’t you just come in? You have a key.”
“Hey Joel,” you greeted with a shrug, your voice quiet. Your eyes scanned from his head down to his feet like you were drinking him in. “Just didn’t feel right, I guess.”
“Ok?” Confused, he waited for you to explain, but you kept your mouth shut. Something was off with you. He wondered if something happened last night – you said you had plans, had it been a date of your own? His heart skipped a beat as he shook his head clear. “Well, come on in. You doin’ alright, darlin’?”
“Mmhmm,” you hummed back causing Joel’s brows to pull into a frown as you followed him into the house. “You look nice. Ready for your date?”
Was it just him or did it seem like asking that question pained you? What the fuck was wrong with him? Shaking his head free of thoughts like that, he blushed. “Oh, uh, thanks. As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” After a beat, he added, “I’m kinda nervous, actually.”
Joel watched your eyes soften at that. “You shouldn’t be. Any woman would be lucky to go on a date with you.”
Including you? he wondered. There was a wistfulness to your voice that shattered him, leaving him ready to ditch his date and stay there with you and Sarah. “Hey, I, um—”
“You’re here! Finally! Come on, I want to show you something!” Sarah sprinted into the living room, grabbing your hand, and stealing your attention before Joel could finish his sentence. Maybe that was a good thing. God only knows what was about to come out of his mouth.
“Slow down, nugget! I’m coming,” you laughed as the young girl dragged you toward the stairs. It was the first smile of yours Joel glimpsed since you arrived, and his heart beat heavy in his chest when you turned to speak to him over your shoulder, your broad smile dimming with your next words. “Have fun tonight, Joel. You deserve a nice night out.”
“Thanks, darlin’,” he replied, the words heavy in his mouth. Clearing his throat, he called out, “Be good, Sarah! I ordered pizza for you both, should be here soon.”
“I always am, Dad! Love you!” Sarah yelled down the stairs, her attention already focused on whatever she wanted to show you.
“Love you, too.” Joel continued staring up the stairs long after the two of you were out of sight, a sense of yearning knotted deep in his chest. Forcing himself to look away, he grabbed his keys and headed for the door, once again asking himself why the hell he agreed to this date in the first place.
“Can we go see it tonight? Please?” Sarah gazed up at you with her dark eyes widened like a baby cow and you were powerless. How did Joel ever tell this precious, sweet girl ‘no’? It was impossible.
“Let’s see what the showtimes are first. We can’t be out too late.” Scanning the movie listing Sarah pulled up on her tablet, you found the showtimes for the latest kid friendly adventure movie she wanted to see. “There’s one at 6:30. We can totally do that one and still have you home for bedtime. Sound good?”
“Yes! Can we get popcorn?”
“Of course! No trip to the movies is complete without popcorn.”
The two of you ate some pizza before getting ready to go. You liked getting there early enough to find your seats and see the trailers before the movie started. Texting Joel on your way out the door to let him know you were taking Sarah out, the two of you climbed into your car.
The movie theater was busy as usual for a Saturday evening, but you found a good parking spot beneath a light post not far from the entrance. There were lines for tickets and concessions leaving you relieved at arriving early. With tickets in hand, you led Sarah to the shortest of lines in front of the concessions counter. That’s when you saw them.
A tall blonde with big hair and legs for days, wearing tight fitting jeans like a second skin and yapping away while walking closely with a taller man with broad shoulders and curly, dark hair. The man’s sleeves were rolled up, his left hand placed low on the woman’s back, gently guiding her as she gripped a bucket of popcorn and a fountain drink. Another fountain drink was clutched in the man’s right hand. As if he felt the searing heat of your jealous gaze, the man turned, and your stomach plummeted.
Joel’s dark umber eyes met yours in surprise, his hand dropping from the woman’s back as he watched your face fall. He looked uncertain, like he didn’t know whether to carry on with his date or rush to your side. His eyes darted to find Sarah standing at your side, her focus on the snacks displayed within the glass counter. Forcing a half smile to your face, you dipped your head in greeting and turned to move forward, your attention refocusing as it was your turn to plan an order. All the while, your mind raced with thoughts of Joel and his date. Knowing that he wouldn’t want to introduce his daughter on a first date, you never told Sarah that you saw him.
Handing the bucket of popcorn to Sarah, you said, “Careful now. I’ll grab napkins and carry our drinks.” You led the way past the concessions toward the designated theater, which was, thankfully, on the other side of the building from where Joel and his date had been heading.
You phone buzzed in your pocket once you and Sarah were seated – in the middle of the aisle, at Sarah’s insistence, because you’d have the best view. It was a text from Joel.
JM: Sorry darlin’ just saw your text. Hope you and Sarah enjoy your movie.
Torn between responding or just leaving him on read, you went with a third option and gave his message a thumbs up before shoving the phone deep into your pocket. Minutes later, you relented with a sigh, pulling the phone back out to respond a little kindlier.
You: Thanks. I didn’t know you were taking your date to the movies or we would have gone somewhere else.
Bubbles appeared as he was typing, but you didn’t want to see what else he had to say. Silencing your phone, you shoved it back into your pocket.
You were distracted the entire movie, staring blankly at the large screen as you over-analyzed every detail about Joel’s date. She was closer to his age, maybe even a bit older, with big, perky boobs and a pretty face covered with a thick layer of makeup. Her hairstyle fit the old quote, “the bigger the hair, the closer to God” and likely took her an hour or more to style. She made an effort, that’s what seemed to matter. Meanwhile, you sat in the theater with your hair scraped back into a messy ponytail and wearing worn jeans and a hoodie. You felt like a child compared to Joel’s date.
Part of you wanted to hate her for having all the features that Joel apparently found attractive, but you couldn’t. It wasn’t her fault the man you were pining over wasn’t the least bit interested in you.
Finally, the credits rolled, and you pretended to have paid attention to the movie as you listened to Sarah gushing over it for the entire ride back to the Miller house and in the moments between brushing her teeth and tucking her into bed.
The living room couch was particularly comfortable when you sat on it, your body settling into the pillowy cushions with a sigh as you stretched across it. Staring at the ceiling, eyes blinking tiredly, you wondered when Joel would be home, both eager for and dreading his arrival. Still mortified over nearly crashing his date and self-conscious about not fitting the mold of what he found attractive, you wondered what you’d even say to him when he walked through the door.
The pull of sleep too strong to fight, you submitted to the emotional exhaustion, dozing off until a gentle shake of your shoulder caused you to stir.
“Darlin’, go sleep in the spare room,” Joel murmured as you blinked your eyes open.
It took you a moment to come back to your senses, your body following his orders before your brain kicked back to life. He stepped back as you got up, one strong hand reaching out to hold you steady as you wobbled. You met his eyes as the haze of sleep began to clear. He gazed at you with such a soft look you trembled.
“You okay there?” he asked with a quiet laugh and your eyes flicked down to his mouth, catching the glint of something on his cheek, just above his beard. Focusing on that spot, it became clearer. A very distinct lipstick mark. He wasn’t even bothering to hide it.
Wrenching yourself from his gentle grasp, you slipped on your shoes and pulled your keys from your pocket.
Joel watched your every move, confused and clearly not wanting you to leave. “Hey, where are you going? Just take the spare room. You’re still half asleep.”
Shaking your head, you avoided looking at him. “Nah, Imma head home. G’night Joel, see ya Monday,” you said, turning your back on him as you headed for the door. Unable to help yourself as you wrenched the front door open, you added, “Might wanna go clean your face off.”
“What?” his baffled question echoed behind you as the door closed.
tbc
Taglist: @mellymbee@untamedheart81@anoverwhelmingdin@runningmom94@leilanixx@pedropascalfan221@lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @tammythr @lulawantmula @islacharlotte @allyourfavesinoneblog @lover-of-books-and-tea @pedropascalsbbg @ashleyfilm @brittmb115
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel x female reader#the last of us#tlou#dbf!joel#Fall Into Me#pedro pascal#eventual smut#mutual pining#idiots falling for each other
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i’m starving, darlin’ (let me put my lips to something) || j. miller
summary: you won’t let joel eat. he has something else in mind, modern!au, still takes place in 2023.
warnings: joel fucks the reader with a beer bottle (no, it’s not empty...), dirty talk, kind of exhibitionism?, female reader, reader wears a dress, modern!au, not proofread
word count: 1.4k
a/n: this is just me being so fucking feral. y’all saw my “ellie fucks the reader with her pistol”? same idea. don’t think about the logic cause i sure as fuck didn’t. title credit to @tieflingpride . i too am obsessed with hozier’s new song (been a hozier girlie for awhle). let’s not talk about the fact that the song is actually about generations exploiting new generations thru capitalism! only pay attention to the slutty base intro! also the idea that joel can’t cook is kind of from @textsfromeponinet ‘s blurb. i wrote this in like forty minutes.
The hot summer air clung to your skin as you crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in your chair, pulling your dress down over your thighs. The golden evening sun was peeking out through the trees in Joel’s backyard, coasting over the four of you in a comfortable glow. You sat next to Joel, his hand resting comfortably on your thigh as you chatted with Tommy and Maria. Sarah was at a friend’s house, missing out on the barbecue. The only part of cooking Joel could pride himself on was his barbecuing.
“Not sure how much I trust your cookin’ Joel. Not after the time back home when you lit old Mrs. Garcia’s kitchen on fire,” Tommy said to Joel with a smirk, making both you and Maria look to Joel and laugh.
Joel grinned. “If I remember right, that fire only started ‘cause I had to pick your ass up from that party and I forgot I had shit cookin’,” he said, tilting his head to the side and tilting his beer bottle up to his lips, taking a swig.
“He’s better at barbecuing than he is…anything else. I promise,” you said, making Tommy and Maria chuckle. Joel squeezed your thigh.
“Reminds me. Should go sauce the steak,” Joel drawled, getting up from his place next to you and walking a few feet away towards the sizzling barbecue.
Maria leaned in closer to you, “Please tell me you made those salads I saw in the kitchen earlier.”
You laughed and assured her that you made them. “There’s caesar salad, pasta salad, potato salad, macaroni salad, you name it. Joel eats like a man starved, so I always make sure we’ll have leftovers for a couple nights. Y’all can take some home if you want,” you offered.
“We’ll definitely take you up on that. Tommy here takes after his brother.” You and Maria laughed as Tommy rolled his eyes with a smile.
“I’m pretty sure last time someone let Joel around anything that couldn’t be grilled, everyone went home with food poisoning,” you joked, jolting when you felt hands begin to gently massage your shoulders from behind.
“That right. Darlin’?” Joel laughed. You smirked at him as he sat down. “Steak’s almost ready. I’d say in five.” He took another swig of his beer.
“In that case, I should go inside and put the dressing on the salad. Didn’t want it to get soggy or I would’ve done it earlier,” you said as you got up from your chair.
“Oh, let me help you!” Maria said, standing.
“Oh, don’t worry about it. Sit! I’ll be right back.” You opened the back door, shutting it gently behind you. The kitchen windows were open. You could still hear small bits of the conversation going on outside if you listened hard enough.
You began pulling the different bowls of salad out from the fridge and onto the counter. You grabbed the caesar dressing and added it to the salad, mixing it around. You looked over your shoulder when you heard the back door open and shut, still mixing.
“Just grabbin’ another beer, honey,'' Joel said, grabbing you by the hips and moving you gently to the side so that he could get in the fridge adjacent to you. Joel grabbed another bottle before closing the door. Hand still on your hips, he peered over your shoulder at what you were doing. He brought the lid up to his mouth, cracking the lid off with his teeth and throwing it out. He downed about a third of the beer, only stopping when you turned to place the bowl on the kitchen island. However, you ran into his broad chest, his frame stopping you from moving past him.
“You’re drivin’ me crazy with that little dress you’ve got on, pretty thing,” he groaned. His breath smelled like beer, but you knew he wasn’t drunk. Just tipsy.
You giggled. “Joel. I’ve gotta finish up. The people want to eat,” you said, trying to move past him.
“Hm, so do I, darlin’,” he said with a smirk, pulling you back into him by the wrist.”
“Joel!” You gasped, smacking him playfully on the bicep. He took another swig of his beer, grabbing the salad bowl with his other hand and throwing it on the counter. “Joel, not now. We can finish this later, I pro-”
He cut you off with his lips on yours, hands cradling your face, the cold surface of his beer bottle pressed up against your cheek. You whimpered into his mouth as he pressed your back into the island.
He broke away. The grin on his lips was almost permanent, an ever-present reminder of his constant desire for his woman. “You won’t let me taste you, but that doesn’t mean you can’t take something else for me, honey.”
Your brows furrowed. He lifted you onto the counter and you squealed. “Joel, what if Tommy or Maria come in?”
He pressed another kiss to your lips. “Shh, baby. Window’s open.”
His rough hands lifted your dress higher and higher until it was bunched around your hips, your dampening panties the only thing shielding you from the air. Noticing the wet spot pooling there, Joel’s thick fingers traced it, fingers ghosting over your pussy, leaving silent kisses there.
“Already this wet for me, huh?” he whispered before taking one last sip of his drink. “You feelin’ brave, sweetheart?”
“Anything for you,” you said, becoming too wet to care or resist.
He hummed and moved your panties to the side. “That’s what I like to hear.”
You gasped as you watched him lower his bottle to your core, running the cold tip through your wet folds, making you shudder. “Trust me?”
“Always.”
He smirked. He lined the cold tip of the bottle up with your entrance, pushing in ever so slowly, watching the way it disappeared perfectly inside you. You bit your lip as he worked it deeper. You couldn’t help but moan when it bottomed out inside of you.
“Gotta keep quiet for me, honey,” he said as he slowly pulled it out and worked it back in. He pulled you so your ass was barely supported by the island, his arm doing most of the work. “Look at you, takin’ my bottle like a slut,” he chuckled. You didn’t care. You let out quiet, breathy moans as he worked it in and out of you.
“Faster, please Joel,” you moaned softly. He obeyed, thrusting it in and out at a faster pace, eyes transfixed on your slick collecting around the neck of the bottle. You could feel the familiar pressure in your core building up. One of your hands found his hair, pulling gently for some reprieve. His other hand moved to circle your clit, hell-bent on seeing your release.
You bit back your moans as your release crept up on you, Joel trying his hardest to coax it out of you. He thrived off your little moans of his name, begging for your release, knowing he was the only one who could give it to you.
“That’s it, baby. Come on, know you can do it. Cum for me, pretty thing. That’s right.”
The coil finally snapped, Joel clamping a hand over your mouth immediately in an attempt to quell your moans. He worked the bottle in and out of you through your orgasm, your back arching and body writhing up off the counter.
When you came down, Joel took his hand from your mouth and gently worked the bottle out of you, watching the way your puffy hole clenched around it, then clenching around nothing. As you tried to catch your breath, Joel brought the bottle up to your eyes. You blushed at the sight of your cum running down and inside the bottle, mixing in with the liquid left still inside.
“Look at that, honey,” he said before bringing it up to his lips, taking a savory sip before kissing you once more. He grinned as he began to make his way outside.
“Joel?” You called, still wanting more of him. Always more.
“What? The people need to eat, baby.” He laughed before going back outside.
A few minutes later, after straightening yourself out, you walked outside with the salads. Your eyes couldn’t help but gravitate towards Joel, sprawled out in his chair, still sipping from the bottle.
permanent taglist:
@winters-fairy @idkwhattonamethisblogs
joel taglist:
@sunxflowerxx @mmeerraa @chrry1ovr @milly-louise @jordie-gvf @themusingkitten @anxiety-made
#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller fluff#joel miller x reader#joel miller x reader smut#joel miller x reader fluff#the last of us#tlou#hbo's tlou#hbo's the last of us
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the touch of a hand lit the fuse
So, turns out y'all lapped up my dbf!Joel and now I'm kinda speechless? Like, tysm for loving this enough to like semi-blow it up. But never fear, our favourite neighbourhood DILF is back and filthier than ever today. I wrote this under the influence of a rather strong margarita, so forgive any mistake and the uninhibited filth you're about to consume. Enjoy.
Pairing | dbf!Joel x female reader
Summary | Four days on from being spread on Joel's lap, he's back to fix up your attic when you're home alone.
Word Count | 3.6k
Warnings | I mean, blanket warning for dbf!Joel because he's always a menace. Alcohol consumption, NO USE OF Y/N, masterbating (F), unprotected PiV sex (Don't be dumb, wrap it up), age gap (Reader is 25, Joel is 36), size kink, some dirty talk and that's it.
Part 1 | Main Masterlist
It was Wednesday and you were still reeling from what had happened at the party on Saturday. Whenever you led in bed there was the feeling of Joel’s fingers ghosting over you. You were ashamed of the number of times you’d touched yourself, trying to emulate how Joel’s fingers had felt inside of you, failing miserably, but still getting yourself off with tight circles on your clit, moaning his name into your pillow as you made yourself come. It was a dreadful substitute, but you didn’t have much choice – Joel had been MIA since he'd left on Saturday night.
You were sat at the table in the kitchen with your parents, sipping on orange juice and pushing eggs around your plate before they both went to work, “Oh, I forgot to mention, Joel’s coming over this morning to take a look at starting that work in the attic, you’ll be around to let him in, won’t you?”
You tried to keep as nonchalant as possible at your dad’s voice, “Yeah, I’ll be here.”
A house to yourself with Joel Miller, of course you’d be here, there was no-where else you’d rather be. Once your parents had eaten and stacked their dishes for you to wash up in your free time later, you raced upstairs to your room, dragging out the tightest pair of shorts you owned and a low-cut tank top. You’d never been the type to play into this sort of thing – if someone wanted you, then they could want you in your baggy jeans and jumpers, but Joel was different, and you knew it. You’d seen it the last time, how he fought to the last second not to give into you and his desires, you didn’t want to give him a reason to do it again.
You made quick work of hopping in the shower before pulling your clothes on, choosing a coloured bra to sit under your white tank top, but deciding against underwear beneath your shorts. Then you sat on couch and waited, anticipation rising with every minute there wasn’t a knock on the door. It took him another hour to arrive – the knock at the door dragging a gasp of surprise from your lips.
You practically ran to the front door, stopping only to run a hand through your hair and take a deep breath before you opened it. It never mattered where or when you saw him, he was always fucking gorgeous. Like now, stood in front of you, toolbox in hand, dark t-shirt and jeans clinging to him, hair mused and a smirk on his lips.
“Sorry I’m late sugar,” He breathes, “Had to cover a job first thing for Tommy.”
“That’s alright,” You smile, leaning against the door so he can walk past, “You want a drink of anything?”
You were slightly put out that he hadn’t immediately bent his head and planted a kiss to your lips, but you weren’t going to be a brat about it. At least not yet.
“Water’ll be just fine thanks,” He says over his shoulder as he’s moving towards the stairs, “I’m just gonna get started, don’t let me interrupt you.”
You’re not interrupting anything is what you want to say, but he’s already taking the stairs two at a time, as if he’s in a rush to get away from you. It hurts, but you try and swallow your pride for now. He wasn’t going to get away with it that easily.
You fill up a glass of water from the fridge with some ice, it’s hot after all, before you head upstairs. He’s already got the ladder from the attic down and is searching through his toolbox for what he needs, setting each different tool on his utility belt when he finds it.
“You want me to pass this up to you once you’ve tackled the ladder, Miller?” You ask.
He turns to you with his hand on one of the ladder rungs, “I’d be much obliged, sweetheart.”
You swear that he takes each step of the ladder excruciatingly slow just for your benefit, but you aren’t going to complain – it affords you a glorious view of his ass, fitting tightly into his jeans – had he done that to you on purpose, just like you did for him? You watch intently as he turns and kneels and sticks his hand down for the glass of water. You pass it to him, and he does exactly what he did with his bottle of beer on the weekend, grabs it exactly where your hand is so his fingers brush against yours. Lighting a fuse right through your body. If you could spontaneously catch fire you think this would have done it.
“I’ll be downstairs if you need me, just shout.”
You flop yourself down on the couch, huffing out an annoyed breath as you reach for the magazine you’d been trying to read before he arrived. Thinking it would be easier to concentrate on now Joel was working away upstairs, you’re sorely mistaken. Your eyes glaze over the same two sentences – it’s an advice column, some housewife wanting to know how she could make her husband want her again after months of living in a dead bedroom. You don’t pretend to care, you look down to the bottom of the column – Andrea, 48. What you really want the editor to say in response is that Andrea should cut her losses, find someone younger, fitter and more handsome and sack off her obviously boring husband. What they really say is that she can spice things up by wearing sexy lingerie and being spontaneous, maybe you can try taking sex out of the bedroom for things to feel newer and more exciting.
They’d got that much right. Your brain is drifting back to Saturday night, sat on Joel’s lap with his thick fingers moving in and out of your pussy. That had been new and exciting. Maybe Andrea should try that with her own husband.
You sigh and throw the magazine to the ground – nothing is going to stop the bubbling lust and frustration in your stomach. Nothing except for what you really want, and that Joel, peeling your clothes off and seating himself so deep inside you that you can’t think properly. You can hear him banging around in the attic, unsure of what he’s actually doing.
Before you know what you’re doing, one of your hands is making quick work of undoing the button on your shorts, moving them just enough so you can slip your hand below the material. Your ears focus on sound of Joel’s footsteps in the distance. You bet there’s a thin film of sweat on his skin up there, you think as your fingers dip to the entrance of your pussy, finding yourself just as wet as you were on the weekend. Maybe he’s taken his shirt off, you think as the slick you’d gathered on your fingers make sliding them over your clit easier. The mental vision of the muscles in his back rippling as he bends to work and the way his arms would tense make bringing yourself to the edge of oblivion a piece of cake, but it’s the final vision you have of him pushing you against the dank attic wall and pounding into you that has you coming. You bite down on your hand to stop yourself from making noise, convulsing on the couch with the aftershocks of your orgasm.
There was a slight feeling of embarrassment that sat through your stomach for a moment when you’d realized you’d gotten yourself whilst Joel was unaware upstairs. You quickly buttoned up your shorts and placed an arm over your eyes whilst you tried to catch your breath and before you could stop yourself you were drifting off to sleep.
You woke with a start God knows how long later, the sound of something hitting the ground drawing you from your dreamless nap. You sat up and rubbed at your eyes and saw Joel setting his toolbox by the front door.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to fall asleep.” You mumble, pushing yourself off the couch.
“S’alright,” He smiles at you, “S’your house.”
“You get everything done?” You ask.
He shakes his head, “Gonna be a big job up there, don’t have the stuff to finish it all today.”
You nod like you understand, “Anything else on today?”
He smirks at you like he knows what you’re thinking, “Nope,” is all he says, “You?”
You match his smirk, “Nope, convenient huh?” He nods, “You want a drink?”
You look at the clock on the wall, it’s nearing 2pm, “Beer?”
“Yes ma’am.”
You try and push down the arousal that pooled in your stomach at that. It hadn’t been two hours since you’d gotten yourself off but God there was just something about this man that made your blood run hot and turned you into something akin to a dog in heat. He follows behind you as you go to the kitchen, gratefully accepting the ice-cold beer that you’d popped the cap off.
You stand at opposite sides of the kitchen – Joel leant up against the counter near the sink, you doing similar against the breakfast island. It’s silent as you both eye one another up, taking languid sips of beer as you do so. You could cut the tension in here with a fucking knife. You made the first move last time, it’s his turn to do it.
“Y’know you don’t have to wear that kinda stuff for me, don’t ya?” His eyebrow is cocked, and you know he’s talking about the shorts that barely cover your ass and the blue bra he can clearly see through your top.
“Shall I take them off then?”
He’s leant against the kitchen counter, looking as casual as can be, but you don’t miss the way his eyes darken, glazed with lust. He takes another drink of his beer before setting the bottle down, crossing his arms over his chest, eyebrow raised.
“You wanna see me naked, Joel Miller?”
“You want me to see you naked?” He counters.
“You’re in charge baby, you need to tell me what you want.” You dare.
He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth as he’s thinking before he’s unraveling his arms from his chest, “Well, in that case, come over here and kiss me.”
Your feet are moving before he’s even finished speaking, closing the gap between you. You wrap your arms around his neck, pushing yourself up on your tiptoes as his own arms wrap around your waist as his dips his head and wastes no time connecting your lips together. As soon as they do you can feel the tension dripping from your body, pooling on the floor as if it never existed.
Joel’s got you pulled flush to his body, warmth radiating through the material covering your bodies as his mouth opens and he’s swiping his tongue across your bottom lip before he takes it between his teeth and bites down slightly. He slips his tongue into your mouth when you gasp at the slight bite of pain from his teeth, which is quickly forgotten when you can taste him on your mouth. The slight yeast from the beer, something minty, suggesting he’d been chewing gum whilst working and the inevitable flavour that’s just pure Joel that you cannot place.
His hands are slipping down from your waist to cup your ass – hands on bare skin where the globes of your ass meet the back on your thighs, dragging you further into him. You can feel his own arousal prodding between you which has a moan tumbling from your lips, swallowed by Joel’s own mouth as he continues to lick into your mouth.
His hands are sliding around to the front of your shorts, deftly undoing the button, not unlike how you’d done it just a few hours before. His hand is snaking down into the material and then he’s pulling away from your lips, a groan of frustration leaving your mouth as he does so.
“What’s this?” He asks, brushing his fingers along the seam of your pussy, “Didn’t wanna bother with lace today?”
“Saving time.” You mumble, a sigh leaving your lips as his fingers move lower.
“Fuckin’ hell sweetheart, are you always this wet?” He groans when one of his finger’s dips slightly between your folds.
“Only for you,” Another sigh, “I… fuck, Joel…” You’re trying to get your words out but the way he’s brushing your slick up the seam of your pussy but neglecting your clit means it’s hard to concentrate, “I touched myself, thinking of you.”
He stops dead in his tracks, pulling his face away from you, “When?” He demands.
You turn your head to look at the clock behind you, “Probably two hours ago now.”
He growls, gripping you tightly to his body, “You filthy girl,” You can do nothing but grin, “You touched your pussy whilst I was upstairs?”
You nod, moving so you can press a kiss to his neck, “Show me.” He asks.
There’s confusion on your face when you pull back, “You don’t need me, obviously, so show me how you touched yourself whilst I was slaving away upstairs.”
He pushes you away from his body gently, and you’re going to turn around to walk somewhere to lie down and give him a show, but he’s stopping you, “Do it here,” He’s motioning his hand for you to stay in the kitchen, “Come on sweetheart, don’t keep me waitin’.”
You take your place leant back against the kitchen counter, running your hand down your body before it dips into your shorts. Joel’s eyes are staring holes into your skin as your fingers dip to your seeping hole, you let your eyes flutter closed as you gather your slick on your fingers, bringing it up to circle your clit. This time when you want to moan, you don’t bite down on anything, moaning Joel’s name as loud as you please.
When you open your eyes, fingers not letting up on pleasuring yourself, you can see him in a similar position to yours, palming himself through his jeans at the show you’re putting on, “Does it feel good, sweetheart?” He coos from across the kitchen, “Bet I’d make you feel even better, right?”
“Oh god, Joel, please-” You gasp as you speed up the circles on your clit, “I want you to touch me.”
He chuckles as he steps forward to meet you, trapping you against the kitchen island with an arm on either side of you. He’s pressing kisses behind your ear but is making no attempt to touch you past that. Fingers still firmly pressing against your clit, you grind your hips forward into his own, “Oh baby,” He whispers, “D’ya need some help?” You nod, “What d’ya want from me?”
“Fingers-” You gasp out, “Put your fingers inside me.”
He kisses your neck, using his hands to push your shorts from your legs, letting them drop to the floor, before he’s kicking at one of your ankles to push your legs further apart. Then, he’s sinking one of his deliciously thick fingers right into your seeping cunt, causing you to cry out.
“It’s alright babygirl,” He chuckles against your skin, “Makin’ you feel good, right?”
He’s pulling his finger back out of your pussy before adding another one when he pushes them back in, “Can feel how tight you are, already, you gonna come for me?”
“Fuck-” You exclaim when he’s curling his fingers up inside you whilst his mouth drags hot trails across your collarbone, “Don’t stop, please-” You beg, “So fucking close Joel.”
“Good girl, show me how good I make you feel.”
With the incessant rubbing you’re doing over your clit and the curve of Joel’s fingers inside you, you come undone. His name is almost shouted from your lips and you can feel his free hand on your waist, keeping you upright. On Saturday he’d worked you through the aftershocks, but not today, he’s pulling his fingers from your pussy, shoving them into your mouth and watching as you lick yourself off him. Then his tongue is back in your mouth and he's grinding his bulge against you whilst he laps up the taste of you on your mouth.
“Fuck, you taste so good babygirl,” He’s whispering once he’s pulled away, “One day I’m gonna spread you out and spend hours with my head between your thighs.”
Heat flushes through your body – you want to respond but you don’t have time. He’s turning you around and with a hand placed gently on the nape of your neck, he’s pushing you forward so your body is spread over the kitchen island. You can hear him unbuckling his belt behind you and you can’t quite believe this is about to happen.
When you hear the material of his jeans hit the floor you swear you can feel yourself drip down the inside of your thigh, you’re that turned on.
“I’m gonna fuck you sweetheart,” His body is towering behind yours as his hands take your hips and pull you back, “That okay?”
You nod and moan out a ‘yes please’ as he’s lining himself up behind you. You can feel the head of his cock sliding between your folds before Joel is sinking into you from behind. He’s slow because he knows it’s a tight fit, despite all your preparation the feeling of him stretching you is bordering on uncomfortable, but you just can’t get enough. He stills himself when he’s buried inside you to the hilt. You can hear his gasps and his heavy breathing behind you as he tries to calm himself down.
“Fuckin’ Christ baby, you’re fuckin’ tight around my cock.”
“Feel so full Joel,” You moan back at him, hands gripping at the kitchen island as he pulls back and thrusts himself back into you, “You’re so fucking big.”
You can hear him chuckle as his hands grip tighter at your hips, you’re convinced you’re going to have finger shaped bruises there, “That’s right babygirl,” He pulls out once more and thrusts back into your tight heat with more force than before that has you crying out, “Look at you,” He praises, “All spread out in your daddy’s kitchen gettin’ fucked by his best friend.”
It's filth but by God it’s doing the job, the way his voice is deeper, and his words are peppered with groans and gasps as he starts fucking you in earnest. You can feel your pussy clenching around him with each thrust, any feeling of discomfort long gone, replaced just with an intense feeling of fullness peppered with ecstasy.
You feel a hand come back to the nape of your neck, travelling higher until it’s tangled in your hair, yanking you backwards so your back is arched. You can feel Joel’s hips snapping into your ass, the new arch of your back has his cock hitting a spot inside you that has spots blurring your vision.
All you can do is chant his name and let moans drop from your lips as his pace picks up again. He’s turned your brain to mush, not that you’re complaining. If you could keep the both of you here forever, locked in this state of secret pleasure then you would.
“Sweetheart,” He chokes out behind you, hand still wrapped in your hair, “I’m gonna cum.”
“Yes Joel, please-” You cry out, “Please give it to me.”
“So fuckin’ pretty sweetheart,” He groans behind you, “Beggin’ me for my cum like a good girl.”
When he pulls himself fully from your pussy you almost cry in frustration until you feel the warmth of his cum spreading over the cheeks of your ass. You can hear him moaning your name, one hand still firmly gripping your hip, the other, you assume, fisting his cock. When you’re sure he’s finished you let your forehead drop to the cool countertop whilst you catch your breath.
You’re vaguely aware of Joel pulling his jeans back on and the sound of the tap running behind you. The feeling of a warm cloth spreading across your ass as he cleans his spend off you. It’s almost robotic as he gathers you and turns you round, bending down to shimmy your shorts back up and over your hips. He even does the button up for you.
“You okay?” He asks, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.
You smile, exhaustion settling into your bones as he holds you, “Never better.”
“Hope I wasn’t too rough sweetheart.”
“I don’t mind,” You smirk, reaching up to press a kiss to his lips, “Want you to make me sore so whenever I move I remember this.”
“You can’t be real babygirl,” He’s chuckling, “You keep sayin’ things like that and I’ll never leave.”
You’re pulled from your post-coital bliss by the sound of a car door slamming out front. Your eyes widen and so do Joel’s. You quickly glance at the clock and realise he’s had you bent over the kitchen counter for far longer than you’d anticipated.
“Fuckin’ hell,” He’s mumbling, making sure he kisses your lips firmly, “I gotta get outta here, but I’ll see you soon, okay?”
“Okay.” You nod with a smile, you fucking hope so.
He leaves with a squeeze of your hand, jogging to the door to grab his toolbox. You hear the door open and then he’s greeting your mother with a ‘Hello ma’am, good day?’ – you can just about hear your mother recounting her day to him and then asking him how the work in the attic went.
“Went fine, still a fair bit to do so just let me know when y’all are going to be out again in the week and I’ll come back to finish up.”
“Well, you know we work all week and I’m sure that one in there won’t mind a little banging about from you.”
Oh if only you knew mom, if only you knew.
#Joel Miller#Joel Miller fic#Joel Miller fan fiction#Joel Miller fanfic#dbf!joel#dbf!Joel Miller#dbf!joel smut#the last of us#Pedro pascal#the last of us hbo#Joel Miller smut#tlou#tlou fic#tlou smut#Joel tlou#Joel Miller x you#Joel Miller x reader#Joel Miller x female reader#Joel Miller x f!reader#Joel Miller Pedro pascal#TS
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I was just rewatching the episode (coz I like pain) and getting to this scene again I was really thrown off by Joels actions
The first thing he notices is the look of fear on Ellies face. Not the pain in his abdomen, no, he's focused solely on Ellie and making sure she's okay
You can see the look of confusion on his face when he realises where Ellie is looking, and thats when it finally clicks
You can see in his eyes that he starts panicking, his conversation with Tommy comes rushing back. He makes eye contact with Ellie and picks up on the abject horror displayed across her face. He's panicking, he doesn't know what to do, he doesn't want to fail in proctecting another daughter.
Is this fear of failure why he forgot basic first aid knowledge? Like I'm 100% sure even Ellie knows not to take something out that's stabbed you, and Joel has been surviving in the apocalypse for 20 years, so he should know this too. But his first reaction to the problem was to remove the thing that was making Ellie scared.
And then he looks up at her again, sees how shes looking at him, and I think thats when he realised "oh shit, I fucked up", but theres no time to worry about that now because Ellie is yelling again and she needs him again and he can't fail her now after all this so he's just going to have to deal with it later, once Ellie is safe.
#noone thinks straight when theyre panicking#the last of us#tlou spoilers#ellie tlou#tlou hbo#tlou#ellie the last of us#ellie williams#joel and ellie#joel miller#joel tlou#joel the last of us#tlou ep 6
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This is an ask to remind you to write the ghost poured alcohol and spit into soaps mouth at a concert fic. Pretty please... do write it uwu
Thank you thank you thank you i really wanted an excuse to write this other than me being self indulgent
Simon forgot what exactly Tommy had called the pills he had taken. He just knew he felt great.
From an outsiders point of view, he looked good too. Simon knew that. Jason had helped him with his makeup so he had a large painted black Glasgow smile and blacked out eyes that streaked down. At some point, he had lost his shirt. His jacket didn’t really keep the cold out but in his opinion, it made him look better.
Simon downed more alcohol, his head swimming. The world was fading in and out with the bump of the music. It was so much better than being sober.
There was some… guy. Staring at him. He had dark hair and he was dressed kinda strange. Long sleeved blue shirt and jeans rather than scene gear. It made him stand out almost as much as those pretty blue eyes.
Simon licked his lips. “Hey buddy. Need something or are you just staring?”
The man spoke in gibberish in a thick Scottish accent. Simon wondered if he was higher than he thought or if the guy simply spoke another language.
“You speak English?” He slurred out, staggering closer to him.
That upset him. Quite a bit. He spoke more of his gibberish at him. He looked a bit younger. Simon wondered vaguely if he was old enough to be there, but Simon wasn’t exactly old enough either so…
“Want a drink?”
He paused His angry rambling to look at Simon closely before nodding and reaching for it.
Simon held it above his head, using his height to make sure he’d have to jump for it. “Nah. Tilt your head back.”
Mystery guy paused and clearly hesitated before doing as told. He let Simon grip his jaw gently and opened his mouth obediently. When in Rome. Or when you’re in Manchester you let a high, hot guy pour alcohol into your mouth.
Simon was careful not to drown him. He had done this before. It was cheap liquor, no doubt burned on the way down but he took it like a champ. Their eyes met and the burn in Simon’s chest was definitely not cause of the alcohol. This dude was fucking hot.
When the Scot tilted his head to try to get him to stop, Simon spit into his mouth and let go of him. The Scot quickly closed it so the alcohol wouldn’t get on his shirt. He looked flustered as he swallowed and Simon could see how his pupils dilated.
Simon grinned and put his hand on his shoulder. “Don’t understand a word you’re saying, love. But if you wanna go i co-“
Tommy jumped on Simon’s back, laughing. “Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, where were you?”
In the brief moment he stumbled, the Scot fled, leaving Simon with a case of blue balls and very pissed off. “You’re the fucking worst.”
~~~
“There’s no fucking way that was you.” Ghost argued. “We’re four years apart! It doesn’t even make sense.”
Soap crossed his arms. “You made me realize i was fucking gay and into taller men and you refuse to believe me.”
Ghost shook his head. “No way. You’re delusional.”
Soap gaped at him. “The guy who jumped on you called you Si! He had skull makeup on!”
“Fuck off, Johnny.”
“Oh come on, Lt. you wanna recreate it?”
#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#simon ghost riley#call of duty modern warfare ii#johnny soap mactavish#cod#cod mw2#ghostsoap#soapghost#ghoap
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𝐏𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐚 𝐃𝐚𝐲 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝
pairing: pre!outbreak joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader
series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.
genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn
word count: 3.1k
summary: Months after the move you're trying to paint again. But you lack the motivation to do so. Thankfully, Sarah comes over and keeps you company until Tommy and Joel come over to pick her up.
warnings: brief themes of grief, tommy radiating younger sibling energy and being a menace, fluff
a/n: thank you to everyone who read and enjoyed the prologue and a special thank you to @pedrito-friskito who edited the chapter, love you! 💜💜💜
prologue || chapter two
The dust lingers in the air, a constant reminder of what once was. You see flecks of it dancing in the beams of light that pour through the window, illuminating the room with a hazy glow. The smell of dust permeates every corner, fills your lungs. There are still boxes stacked in your room. Some of them waiting to be unpacked and some of them waiting to be filled.
Looking through your grandfather’s old knick-knacks had been a harder task than you thought. You found pictures, lots of them. From his past, from his now. You even found a picture of yourself from when you were a kid; laughing in the sun with mud all over your face. You had promised him the perfect garden. At the end of the day, it was far from it but he still said that it was.
Your fingers clench around the brush you’re holding. An hour ago you decided to use the grief to make something of it. You had a heaping amount of black and red paint poured onto the pallete, untouched.
You shake your head, agitated. You really shouldn’t be wasting paint. It’s not like you can afford to continuously buy supplies.
You’re staring deeply into the blank canvas when a loud knock jars you back to reality. You can feel a burn in your eyes, taunting you for the wasted hour spent sitting idly without so much as a brushstroke to show for it.
“For fuck’s sake,” you grumble under your breath while heading to the door. Your eyes linger on the window, it’s a clear day out, which now you decide to point all your anger at. If it was raining, it would be different. You would have the proper ambiance to be inspired.
Without looking, you open the door, your eyes immediately dropping to the girl standing on your porch. “Sarah?”
“Sorry for barging in,” she says with a sheepish grin. “I forgot my keys and dad isn’t home yet. Can I come inside?”
Dad. Joel.
You blink before smiling. You take a step to the side as a wordless invite. She steps inside with grace, her shoes blinking pink and purple. It’s hard to stifle a giggle, which earns you a quizzical look from her.
You point to her feet, “Nice kicks,”
“Oh,” her eyes lit up, leaving her heel glued to the hardwood floors, she lifted her foot. “Aren’t they cool? Azra offered we trade shoes for the day.”
"Veeery nice," you nod, but as Sarah turns to head further inside, you clear your throat. "Shoes off," you remind her.
“Right, sorry.”
You make your way to the kitchen, Sarah follows closely behind, taking off her blinking shoes as she goes. You stretch up on your toes and open the cupboard, searching for Sarah's preferred brand of tea.
Since you moved in and formed close bonds with the Miller family, both Tommy and Sarah have been regular visitors to your home. You enjoy their company. It was nice to talk to people instead of obsessing over your muses that had clearly abandoned you.
You pull out the box of apple cinnamon tea and place it on the counter. Joel never stops by. You only see him whenever he comes over to pick up Sarah and that’s pretty much it. Sometimes you send cookies via Sarah and the next day she would tell you he enjoyed them. You aren’t quite sure if Joel is just reserved or if he just didn’t like you that much, but no matter what it is, the rest of the family seems to enjoy your presence. Which is all a neighbor could ask for.
The staccato drumming of Sarah’s fingers against the wooden table pulls you back. You turn on the kettle, a soft steam filling the kitchen.
“Your uncle Tommy is going to stop by too,” you say, leaning back and crossing your arms. “I’m assuming you’re dad is with him?”
“Yeah, but it’s pizza day today so my dad will probably force them to stop by the supermarket to grab some stuff,” she lets her head fall onto her hands and adds. “If he doesn’t forget, that is. You should join us,”
The water comes to a boil, forcing you to turn away from her. You place two tea bags into comically large mugs (the ones that make both Tommy and Sarah giggle, which brightens up your day) and pour the steaming water into them. You place one of the mugs in front of Sarah and slide into the chair beside her, watching as she wraps her nimble fingers around the purple mug.
“I’m a busy woman,” you tease. “I need to work and stuff,”
“Coffee shop?”
“I’m off for the day,”
A mischievous glint glimmered in her eyes, her smile widening into a cheeky grin. “Date?”
You snort into your tea, waving your hand dismissively. Sarah raises an eyebrow at that. The girl has quite a sharp intuition. If you were being completely honest, it made you nervous some days.
“Nah, I just need to work on my paintings. I haven’t managed to paint a single stroke. It’s frustrating,” you stop and take a sip, the fruity flavor makes your taste buds come alive. “Very annoying,”
“Maybe just paint something else or sketch something you like,” she states nonchalantly. “Take a break from the main thing, do a side quest,”
“Sometimes I do that, but I really need to get a grip. I’m gonna end up working at the coffee house forever, or I’m just going to have to risk starvation,”
“Don’t worry. We’ll take you in, feed you,”
Teenagers. You shake your head with an amused smile, “What am I? A dog?”
“A friend.”
You still at that, fingers curling around the hot mug, it burns to the touch. Sarah starts to look around your house as if what she just said just now wasn’t ridiculously sweet.
She hops off the chair and starts to wander with her mug nestled between her palms. Taking a sip, you smile into the porcelain rim, your heart beating fast.
When you first moved here, you were scared to be alone. That you wouldn’t be able to make any friends. After your grandfather died and left you the house, you had half a mind to not make the move. It was nerve-wracking at the time. But ironically enough it was your grief that spurred you to take the leap forward.
Sarah slows down, reaching the bookshelf. The one you have in the living room isn’t really that impressive, mostly put there for decor. She pushes a succulent out of the way and allows her fingers to trace the smooth spines. “You have a lot of children’s books,”
“What can I say, I’m a kid at heart,” you observe the bookshelf next to her. She isn’t wrong. A lot of Roald Dahl books, which are followed by a series of Nicholas and the Gang books. “If you want to see my more serious stuff, we can check the one upstairs.”
“I’m good,” Hooking her fingers around Matilda, she pulls the paperback out of its home. She flips it over and scans the back. “Can I borrow this one?”
“Sure, be my guest. That’s one of my favorites,”
“Living in a house full of dumb-dumbs sounds like my life story,”
“Oh, believe me, your dad is much smarter than he looks,” the sigh you let out attracts her attention, eyes flitting back to you. “And so is your uncle. Also, Matilda’s parents are kind of assholes,”
“Woah, spoilers.”
Another knock at the door. Compared to Sarah’s slow, more careful ones. These knocks sound eccentric, hitting the wood as if the person behind it is out to break it.
“Uncle Tommy,” Sarah guesses, rolling her eyes but smiling. “My dad’s probably with him,”
She’s spot on with her guess. Sarah peers from your side, looking over both her uncle and dad. Tommy shoots you a wide grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Joel stands tall right behind him, his arms crossed, he greets you with a small smile and a signature head tilt.
“Hello boys,” you say, returning the nod and smile. “Do you guys wanna come in?”
Joel lifts a bag of groceries, “Pizza day,”
Sarah’s ears perk up at that, her eyes wide with disbelief, “You didn’t forget!” then she narrows her eyes, sticking her bottom lip out. “Who are you and what did you with to my dad?”
“I had to remind him,” Tommy chuckles, nudging his shoulder into Joel’s. He holds your gaze. “But I’m here for you, beautiful,”
“My hero.”
Joel scoffs with a half grin and gestures his head towards Sarah, “Get your things. Let’s get going.”
All Sarah has to do is lean to the side and grab her backpack from behind the door. Joel waits for her below the short set of stairs, one hand in his pocket, eyes flicking between you and Tommy. He seems impatient, almost.
Tommy brushes past you while Sarah takes her first step over the threshold. At that very moment you feel suspended in time, your eyes finding Joel’s for a brief moment until Sarah comes into view. He slaps a hand over her shoulder and smiles at you. Sarah is still holding the book as she waves you both off.
When you close the door, Tommy is already in the kitchen, rummaging through your fridge. “You have nothin’ to eat,”
“I thought we could order out,” you offer, your gaze falling to the blank canvas. Tommy moves his entire upper body out of the fridge and slams it shut.
“You have anything in mind?”
You don’t have to think long for an answer.
“You know what? I think I’m craving pizza.”
The thing about Tommy Miller is that he’s a good listener, paired with quite the mouth.
He can talk for hours. You always comment on how that was his superpower; there RE no awkward silences when Tommy İs near. He’s also ridiculously intuitive, which makes you think Sarah got it from him.
You two are sitting on the couch with crossed legs and facing each other. Your knees press together as he tells you about his day, munching on the last slice. He’s telling you how the concrete deliveries got delayed, which meant that the rest of their schedule got fucked. His words, not yours. Joel was furious, apparently. You never would’ve guessed. He just looks tired all the time.
“By the way,” he says, swallowing and reaching for the glass of bubbling coke. “If you were cravin’ pizza so much, we could’ve gone over to Joel’s. Eat some of that good homemade shit,”
Picking up the empty pizza box, you place it on the coffee table and push it with the tips of your fingers. You don’t know how to answer him. Your brows furrow, and when he sees it, worry crosses his face.
A bitter chuckle drops abruptly from your lips, “I don’t think Joel likes me very much,”
“What?” Tommy sounds positively horrified. If anyone heard, they would’ve thought you said something along the lines of your mother dying. “Nonsense. He adores you. Why would you even think that?”
Your eyes drop to the cushions you sit on. You feel the brush of his knuckles ghosting over your cheek, prompting you to meet his gaze. His eyes are a soft brown, a shade lighter than Joel’s.
“Hey, you can talk to me. Did he do something to make you feel like that?”
“N-No,” you slowly shake your head, your pulse throbs under your skin. “I just…I don’t know. It seems like he’s wary of me, like I did something wrong once and he’s expecting it to happen again,”
He sighs, his palm now fully cradling your cheek. You can’t help but lean into his touch. “That’s just Joel for you. He’s got a fair share of weight on them shoulders—I’m also probably not a big help to him. Always getting into trouble,”
“I know for a fact that Sarah and Joel love you very much,” you have the need to remind him, and his eyes light up at your words. The skin under his hand burns. “Besides young siblings are always trouble, I would know since I’m the younger one as well. It’s character.”
He blows a raspberry into the air. His hand falls from your cheek and takes refuge over his lap. “Some character,” he utters under his breath, shooting you a playful gaze. “You want me to talk to him?”
“Please no,” you laugh, slapping him on the shoulder as you get up. “That would be super embarrassing,”
“Sometimes you need to tell that stubborn dog to behave,” his voice reaches you in waves, his socked feet following you to the kitchen. You dispose of the boxes, start to prepare him, and you some late-night tea.
“He is behaving,” you reply, feeling his presence behind you. “I just get into my own head sometimes. Don’t worry about it.”
Your hands are still above the kitchen counter when you feel his warm breath fanning the back of your neck. You watch his fingers curl around the edge, his chin not quite pressing but lingering a couple of centimeters above your shoulder.
“Anyone who doesn’t like you is a grade-A idiot, just sayin’” his voice is a low echo in your ear. He’s not physically touching you, but it feels as if his entire being is consuming you by just being so close. The click of the kettle parts the silence. “The water’s done.”
You’re surprised when you turn and find that there’s actually quite a bit of space between you still. You could’ve sworn that his body was only a breath away.
Tommy steps closer, caging you between his arms and the kitchen counter. He has a lazy, yet adoring, smile on his face. Your legs start to tremble, a habit you found you did whenever you were in any kind of confrontation.
Now, there isn’t really anything to confront, so you blame the crackling of tension between you and him. You take a breath and your chest heaves.
You hold your breath when you notice he’s starting to inch closer, gorgeous browns dropping to the flush of your lips. You don’t pull away. But you don’t lean in either. You’re like a deer in headlights, shocked by the sudden beam of brightness.
“Is this okay?” he asks in a whisper. You swallow, your muddled mind finding it difficult to string the words that might or might not form a coherent sentence.
Tommy has always been a close friend. A confidant. Someone you can call in the middle of the night with noquestions asked. You know for a fact that he can be a flirt. And this quality of his cheered you up from time to time—like when he calls you beautiful or praises you in any shape or form. But you’re quite not sure you want to breach the limitations of a platonic relationship.
Suddenly you feel his lips on your cheek, pulling back as quickly as he leaned in, he releases you from the cage and grins at you.
“Gotcha.”
“Excuse me?” Your mouth feels like sandpaper and your throat dry. You swallow and watch him sit on a stool across from you. His fingers grip the peaking part of the stool head between his legs, he looks like a toddler.
“I’m just doing my thing, being a troublemaker. Just like you said,” he hunches forward, eyes looking up to you between dark lashes. “It’s character, right?”
“Oh fuck off, Tommy Miller,”
“You know I’m not above accepting that offer, right? It’s been a while.”
You roll your eyes and turn on the kettle again, the steaming water now probably tepid.
“What would you do if I actually kissed you?”
The question lingers in the air and uncomfortably presses into your skin, you lack the air to take a breath. You don’t dare to look at him. Gaze stubbornly watching the button of the kettle to pop, signaling you that the water is boiling.
“I don’t know Tommy,” you answer honestly and press a palm against the heating surface of the kettle. “I don’t know.”
You hate taking out the thrash.
You don’t know why. When you were a kid, it was your dad who took it out and that would always be accompanied by a series of complaints. His habit of talking to himself and to the inanimate objects around him had passed on to you. The night air chills your skin, a shiver shuddering up your spine while you struggle to keep the trash bag in the air with one hand. Your nails begin to tear the plastic and you start to walk faster.
“Shit, shit, shit,” you mutter, arm cramping. “Come on, just a little further,”
When you reach the container, you lift the bag with a heave and do a small little hip wiggle at the small victory.
Turning around you see Joel watching you with a wide smile.
You’re stunned into silence, arms and legs tingling at the thought of how stupid you must’ve looked. He’s holding a trashbag of his own. Red flannel accentuating his narrowing hips perfectly. He cocks his head to the side when you continue to stare.
“Are you always this excited after throwin’ out the thrash?” he asks, humored by your reaction.
While you think of an answer, he takes wide steps and throws out his own trash. Joel then turns to you, the only thing separating your bodies being the white picket fence.
“Let’s just say that I was happy it didn’t rip while making the trip,”
He nods while pressing his hands into his thighs, “A worthy thing to celebrate.”
You shift from one leg to another. The conversation you had with Tommy the night before echoes in your head worry clouding your chest with the question ‘did Tommy say anything?’. But you assume not when Joel takes a step back, palms sliding down his jeans like a nervous tick.
“Well then,” he clears his throat. “See you later neighbor,”
You lift your hand to wave, an early smile starts to curl over your lips. However, your half-uttered goodbye is cut short by the absurdly loud growl of your stomach.
Ah fuck.
Joel stills. Your cheeks and the tips of your ears burn. His eyes drop to your arms that are now wrapped tight around your stomach, then he lifts his gaze back up to meet yours.
“You wanna join us for dinner?” he asks, he pronounces every word slowly, reminding you of the way you whisper to animals that you don’t want to scare away. “Sarah’s makin’ her special burgers,”
“Special?” you ask back, ignoring the fact that you’ve become a charity case in a blink of an eye. “What makes them special?”
Hand sliding into his pockets, Joel gestures with his head for you to come over.
“Why don’t you come over and see for yourself?”
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x ofc#joel miller#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x y/n#tommy miller x you#tommy miller x reader#tlou fanfiction#tlou fanfic#hbo the last of us#the last of us fanfiction#the last of us hbo#the last of us
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These dirt roads are empty, the ones we paved ourselves
part two
Just a short little thing so that I can’t panic and back out of finishing this fic. Based on this post by @eddie4bat-president. And I hope it was okay that I wrote it, it just SPOKE TO ME
title from “A House In Nebraska” by Ethel Cain (as always 🩵)
Steve knew that Nancy wasn’t going to work out. He knew, but he was holding onto what little hope he had left that maybe, just maybe, he was wrong. That maybe this would last and he wouldn’t have to end up alone again—crawling back to Tommy like a fucking obedient dog because even though he was friends with Billy, he was still all Steve had left.
Carol didn’t talk to him anymore. She went off with her friends. Nancy said that was a good thing—that he was away from Carol and Tommy and that he was friends with Jonathan now, even though he and Jonathan only ever hung out when Nancy forced them too. But she didn’t understand. Tommy and Carol may have been assholes, and he had always known that, but he had been one, too, but they knew too much to just drop him like they had.
It hadn’t been easy. There had been yelling and fighting when they all met up at Steve’s house the next time. Tommy had thrown something—a vase, maybe—and Steve had gotten in trouble for that when his mom had gotten home. He had told her that she had broken it. She wouldn’t have believed him if he had said it had been Tommy, but he didn’t want there to be a chance. His mom was bad, but Tommy’s mom was worse.
“Steve?” A voice cut through the fog shrouding him and he turned, his eyes searching Nancy’s face. She had that look in her eyes—like she was mad at him. He didn’t know what for. It was expected and annoyed, and it made his shoulders drop.
He cleared his throat.
“Yeah? Nance?”
“I asked if you brought your things?” She repeated, slowly. Like she thought that Steve wouldn’t be able to hear her if she talked normally. It stabbed through him like a knife—but he wasn’t mad, he knew she was just annoyed and she didn’t mean anything by it. She was just…like this.
“I, uh…” he spun around, looking over his shoulder and nearly bumping into something. Lots of faces. Loud. Lockers….oh. School hallway. Right. He forgot it was Tuesday. “No. No, I left…my backpack in the kitchen.”
Nancy scowled, and Steve wanted to be anywhere but at school. The people here didn’t like him anymore, not since Billy. He didn’t want to be shoved around by people who thought he was worthless now that he wouldn’t make fun of people.
“You left it in the kitchen,” she repeated, her eyes narrowing.
Steve nodded, his face flushed. It wasn’t his fault. She had practically thrown herself at him near the counter, pushing him against it with something desperate in her kisses and her touches, smoothing over his arms and his chest and his shoulders. It hadn’t really seemed like she was into it, but she had started it, and he knew better than to ask—just going along with it and letting her have what she (maybe) wanted from him. Anything if it kept her close and (maybe) happy. “We were…we were kissing, I…”
“You forgot it because we were kissing?” She sounded accusatory now, her fingers twitching from where they were digging into her white cardigan, arms crossed over her chest. It was one of the ones with little pink flowers—that he had gotten her from Christmas—laid over the long green dress that sweeped to her ankles, winched at the waist and sort of pleated, the cotton scratchy. His mom had bought that for her after she found out they were dating. Said she deserved something nice from her since she seemed like such a nice girl. And she was. She was a nice girl.
“I got distracted,” he whispered, stepping forward and cupping his hand around her elbow, knowing that she kind of hated when he got touchy in public now—didn’t get why because she used to love it—because he just needed to touch something or he was going to lose his mind among the kids smoking over by the bathrooms and the girls chatting by his locker. One of them was leaning against it. He was dreading asking her to move in a minute. “I-it’s fine, though, Nance, really. I have all my books in my—in my locker. I’ll be okay.”
He watched careful, cautiously, when the corner of her mouth quirked up and she breathed out a laugh, pressing her hands to his shoulders and pulling herself up onto the toes of her sneakers to press her lips to his cheeks, murmuring, “what am I going to do with you, Steve Harrington?”
Steve smiled, wrapping his hands around her waist and shrugging, feeling her hands press down a bit harder when he did to keep herself steady. “Dunno, Nancy Wheeler.”
She scoffed, leaning back slightly and falling back to flat feet, slipping her hands down to his chest, lightly gripped at the fabric of his t-shirt. An old one that he let her take without asking because that’s what girlfriends and boyfriends were supposed to do, right? She never wore them out in public like Carol wore Tommy’s clothes, though. But Nancy was different. “Don’t call me by my full name.”
“But you can call me by mine?” He teased lightly, pressing a kiss to her hairline, moving down to her eyebrow and only stopping when she laughed and gently grabbed his jaw, pushing him back. His hands slipped from her waist.
“Yours sounds better.”
“Mmm, does it?”
She nodded, crossing her arms again. “Yeah.”
“I mean—Nancy Harrington…kinda sounds nice, don’t you think?” He was only joking—and he didn’t mean to make her upset by it, honest, it was a joke—but he watched as her shoulders rose up to her ears, tense and tight, shrugging and looking away. Towards one of the posters for that weird club her younger brother wanted to join. They didn’t take middle schoolers, though.
“We should get to class. Steve,” She whispered, saying his name as an afterthought, like she forgot who she had been talking to. She reached out to brush her hand down his arm quickly, fixing the sleeve of his t-shirt from where it had hiked up before she turned. He didn’t follow her for a moment.
He didn’t know how he had fucked this up so badly. She had her future all planned out—and apparently she didn’t know if he was a part of it. She was going to go to some fancy college up north and become a journalist. And he fit in there somewhere if he was still around.
He had thought that she was in his future, too. A house, six kids, long drives on the coast to beaches that would leave sand in their shoes for years…he hadn’t told her that, though. She wouldn’t have liked it. Called it what it was. A dream. Because who would want kids with him? Everyone turned into their parents. And six controlling and manipulative people was six too many. Seven too many if you counted himself. It was only a matter of time before he started to enjoy those meetings he was occasionally dragged to. Before he would cut his hair short—buzz it, even—and marry young. Get rich. Get hateful. Get sick. Spend the rest of his life wishing and hoping that things would work out when they wouldn’t.
That’s what was in store for Steve Harrington. Never Steve Wheeler.
He asked the girl leaning on his locker to move and she did. Her hair was cut short, to her shoulders and light brown. She had been talking about band practice. Trumpet, maybe? He grabbed his books and walked to the classroom door. He stood outside and waited. For what? He didn’t even need to finish highschool. He could drop out. Work for his dad. Run away into the woods. Drown in the ocean with sand in his lungs.
Someone pushed past him, arms full and frizzy hair down past her shoulder, twisting and curling in a flash of deep, rich brown. Her leather jacket rubbed against his arm and she muttered something. Maybe a sorry, and then there was a thud, but she didn’t stop to pick up whatever she dropped—maybe she didn’t notice?
Her voice was deep. Pretty.
“Eddie!” Someone called, and he turned to see where she went but she was already gone. The thing was still there, though. A notebook. It looked a bit fancy, like she had spent a lot of money on it.
Eddie The Banished, it read on the first page. There were some notes, half-assed and not at all coherent. But mostly it was covered in drawings. Of things with horns and claws, people with pointed ears and flowing dresses, swords. Lots of swords. So many swords to the point that it was kind of concerning.
He picked it up. He would have given it back, but…the girl was gone. And he needed a notebook anyways…he’d find her after school. Besides, how many Eddie’s could there be? Maybe she belonged to that demon club thing. It seemed…like a place where people who really liked swords would hang out.
He slipped inside the classroom and gave Ms. Click a smile and a wave. She smiled and waved back, didn’t comment on how he was late or tell him to do better. Just watched him until he sat. The trumpet girl was behind him, glaring at him. That didn’t matter because Nancy was next to him, tugging the notebook out of his hands. “What’s this? I thought you left yours?”
He grabbed it back quickly, shrugging it off and setting his books down next to him. “Found a spare in the locker. Don’t use this one all that much. Dad bought it for me.”
Nancy eyed him suspiciously, like she didn’t believe him, but she dropped it. He looked up as the door opened and that red head walked in. Tam….Tammy? Tammy. Yeah. Her. It wasn’t like he hated her or anything, she was nice. But she was too optimistic. A total dud. Wanted to move to Nashville and become a singer. She couldn’t even sing, god, it was like she was tone deaf. And, because she always was, she was humming as she sat at the desk next to his.
And I need you now tonight….
And I need you more than ever…
He opened the notebook after giving her a small wave and a polite smile. He had forgotten lunch in his backpack, too. But it was good that he didn’t have a class before this today, because otherwise he would have been too tired. It was his off day from sports. To relax and hang out with his girlfriend.
He was going to miss his bagel, though. They were the highlight of the school day.
It was hard to find a blank page in the notebook, but when he did…the one next to it looked…great. He would have never been able to draw a hand that good. The lines were smudged, like the person was in a rush, and the page was crinkled slightly. He smoothed over it, careful not to damage the drawing further.
The hand was familiar, but he couldn’t place it. He saw a lot of hands in basketball. A lot of hands everyday. But there was a small dot on the side of the pinky. The hand was curved, like it was throwing something up and out. He looked down at his left hand. There was a dot there, too.
Next to the hand drawing was a shoddy person, just a shoulder and shirt collar with some curved lines for tousled hair at the neck. There were dots on that drawing, too. He felt behind his jaw, over the thin raised line from shaving yesterday morning—when Nancy had told him that his stubble had gotten too bad and it felt weird to kiss—and…shit, there were moles there. Three. Like in the drawing.
He flipped the page before anyone could see the drawing—didn’t need to be made fun of for being a nerd and for being soft—and tried to focus on Ms. Click as best as he could, all while feeling the piercing glare of Trumpet Girl and Tammy’s soft gaze. Nancy’s side-eyes as she made sure he was looking up towards the chalk board when Ms. Click wrote. His hands kept drifting back to his jaw. His mind kept drifting back to the drawing.
It was weird that the person in the drawings were (maybe) him. But it made sense. Girls at this school liked him. Tammy liked him. Trumpet Girl didn’t seem to, but he didn’t care. Nancy liked him. She did. She told him she loved him so she did, she wouldn’t lie about that. Not to him.
Maybe it was the same with that Eddie girl. Maybe Eddie liked him, too. That wouldn’t be surprising. He might be soft, but he still had great hair.
DISCLAIMER: this is not a Nancy hate fic!!! I love Nancy!!! Her and Steve are just not meant for each other :)
also I love fics where Steve seems Eddie briefly and goes “woman :)” and then meets him and goes “wait. No. What. Not a woman?”
Permanent taglist: @anne-bennett-cosplayer @estrellami-1 @here4thetrama @goodolefashionedloverboi
people who might be interested…?: @jadeylovesmarvelxo @precioussteveharrington @himbosandhardwear @steddiewithachance
#Finn writes#You know when you’re drawing on thin paper and the paper crinkles?#Hate hate hate#Steddie fic#steve harrington#steve Harrington fic#Steve Harrington fanfic#Steve Harrington fanfiction#eventual steddie#eddie munson#Eddie Munson fic#Eddie Munson fanfic#Eddie Munson fanfiction#steddie#steddie fanfiction#my fic#my writing#Robin Buckley#Eventual Stobin#nancy wheeler#Nancy Wheeler fic#Nancy wheeler fanfic#Steve and Robin#Eddie x steve#steve x Eddie#Steve x nancy#Stancy fic#jonathan byers#tammy thompson#stranger things
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