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joels-shitty-puns · 2 months

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Sweetheart

Pairing: Post-Outbreak Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Another year without a Valentine... Until you find yourself spending the day unexpectedly with your crush, Joel Miller.

Warnings: Mostly just fluff! Some kissing, light angst.

Other notes: Hi!! This is my entry for Space Sister's secret valentine for.... *drumroll* @skittlesfics!! Hope you enjoy!!! I tried to go with your prompt mentioned, though I won't spoil it in the summary :) Happy Valentine's day Skittles! <3

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It was the beginning of February and you could feel Valentine's day looming over you on the calendar. No Valentine for you this year. Pre-outbreak, Valentine's day was always flowers and chocolates lining the aisles of the stores, Valentine's cards for kids in elementary school, and large fluffy stuffed animals for kids of all ages. It wasn't the first February 14th you'd spend buried in a box of chocolates on your couch and watching cheesy romance movies, and you're sure it wouldn't be your last. One thing about the outbreak, you didn't have to worry about things like love. Survival was more important.

But since moving to Jackson, you've been able to experience a lot of the old traditions you'd once forgotten or could only reminisce over. One of which, you've learned, would be Valentine's day. You could feel it in the air without even knowing the plans for the big day. Children whispered and giggled with friends over their first crushes. Couples kissed and held hands. It wasn't long before heart shaped decorations were hung and red and pink lights were strung through the streets. They were going big it seemed.

It probably wouldn't bother you that much. It probably shouldn't bother you that much. You'd be fine just admiring couples in love. If it weren't for him. Joel Miller. Brother of Tommy and guardian of Ellie, you'd met him a couple times before striking up a friendship. Responsible for upkeep of the local library as your town job, you often saw Ellie pop in, wanting to find any comics that might have been recovered. At first Joel seemed impatient waiting on Ellie to find a book, but after the two of you began talking, he seemed to visit more frequently, and often it was Ellie persuading him to head home instead of the other way around. Somewhere in the long talks over stacks of books, you developed a crush. You looked forward to their visits, were eagerly surprised to see him on the street, and couldn't help but be hopeful when going to town for meals. But you didn't have high hopes for him feeling the same way.

When Ellie suddenly had plans for Valentine's Day with her own crush, Joel was left alone with his thoughts. What were his plans? Sure, he'd like to take the pretty librarian out for a date, but it had been years since he'd been on a date. He had a relationship with Tess, but living in the QZ didn't leave much time or interest in romantic dates and couple activities. Maybe Valentine's day wasn't the best first date anyway. Too serious, he feared.

So on the evening of February 14th, he strolled towards the town for dinner, alone. He grabbed his food and looked for a table, noticing many already filled up with couples. Just when he was about to take his food to go, he noticed you sitting alone at a table in the back and decided to take a shot.

“Hey,” he muttered.

You looked up from your meal, taken aback to find your handsome Joel staring back at you. He wore a green flannel, your favorite, and had his hair recently combed after a shower. You could smell the fresh shampoo and soap wafting off of him, and he smelled amazing. What a difference from the years of apocalyptic bathing.

“Hi Joel,” you replied back, quieter than anticipated, feeling a bit nervous despite your best efforts.

“I was just thinking of leaving before I saw you sitting alone over here. Mind if I join ya? Or are you waiting on someone?” Joel asked, dinner tray still in hand.

“No, no, I'm alone. Please, sit down if you'd like,” you gestured to the empty seat across from you, a rose and candle placed between you, and on every table. “You look nice…” you mumbled.

Joel's cheeks flushed. “Thank ya, darlin’. So do you.” He quickly looked down at his plate, cutting his meat as a distraction.

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After the initial awkwardness, dinner became easier, with normal conversation flowing. The two of you laughed and smiled, stealing glances when the other wasn't looking. It seemed only a blink of an eye when the rest of the dining hall had emptied out.

Not wanting the night to end just yet, the two of you walked through the town. They were playing Never Been Kissed in the community center, but both of you preferred to keep talking and being alone together. Popping into the general store, you found some Valentine's snacks, and baking supplies, which you offered to bake for Joel at your place. Rubbing his neck nervously, he obliged.

_____

Turning the key into your cabin, Joel followed close behind you. The air was buzzing with tension, and as the two of you baked cookies, sparks flew even further. As well as flour. Pausing your frosting to take the last pan of heart shaped cookies out of the oven, you turned, just in time for Joel to wipe frosting on your nose.

“Joel!” You squealed.

He laughed, only to be quickly shut up with a spoonful of frosting that you stuck into his mouth. Both giggling, you continued decorating cookies, opting to make them look like the conversation hearts you both remember eating before the outbreak.

Frosting your last cookie, you turned to Joel, cookie behind your back.

“I decorated one specifically for you, Joel.”

He turned to face you, one eyebrow raised in suspicion.

Handing him the cookie, he read the pink icing. “I like u, Joel.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you nervously rubbed your arm, waiting for his response.

Looking up from the cookie, he met your eyes, but didn't say anything.

“Joel…?”

Your stomach felt like lead and your blood felt cold. You must have misread the signals, and were about to turn away and start floundering for words when he threw the cookie on the counter and grabbed your face instead, planting a desperate kiss to your lips. He tasted like frosting and sugar cookie, the kiss urgent yet delicate. As you both pulled away to catch your breath, smiling, he replied while stroking his thumb over your cheek. “I like you too, Sugar. Happy Valentine's Day.”

“Happy Valentine's Day, Joel,” you grinned, leaning in to place another kiss to his lips as the two of you embraced, hearts beating faster and bodies warmed by love. Thankfully, Valentine's Day wasn't so bad this year, after all.

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Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!

#spacesisterssecretvalentine #space sisters secret valentine #skittles #joel miller #a! wrote a fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller tlou #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fluff #joel tlou #tlou fanfic #tlou #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction

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penvisions · 6 months

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garnish {masterlist}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Bartender! Reader

Summary: Summer is a time of fun and carefree days for those who are fortunate enough to not work within the food industry. You however have found yourself back in that world and so long were the days you could spend doing nothing. Along with the shift back to a world you once left behind is the figure of Joel Miller, who is as magnetizing as he is irritating that is now a part of your daily life.

Word Count: 50k - complete

Warnings: smut piv smut, unprotected piv, dirty talk, joel miller's filthy mouth, kinda enemies to lovers?, age gap (reader is around 30 and joel is late 40's but it's up to your imagination, bby), degrading language, restaurant lingo, triggers associated with the food industry, power dynamics (due to job rankings), secret relationship, workplace relationship, pining, mutal pining, sexual tension, lingering stares, angst, hurt and comfort, stalking, unwanted attention, reader is an academic

A/N: please enjoy this self-indulgent little series!!

series teaser

main series:

chapter one || chapter two || chapter three || chapter four || chapter five

chapter six || chapter seven || chapter eight || chapter nine || chapter ten

one shots:

*in chronological order

happy hour(s) - post series one shot || not yet posted

office hours (valentine’s day one shot) ❤️‍🔥

out of date || i wish i never met you **new!!

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softiedingo · 5 months

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appreciation post for Joel's little smiles 🥹🫶🏻

#jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal #pedropascal #the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #tlou #the last of us joel #joel the last of us #joel miller #joel tlou #he has the most beautiful smile #big smiles are beautiful but small and reserved ones always seem to have a secret behind them #sigh sigh sigh #softiedingo

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janaispunk · 4 months

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it’s the season

part of the space sisters secret santa 2023 - for @pascalispretty, merry christmas sophie! 🫶🏻

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

word count: ~ 1.8k

summary: Joel had promised his daughters that they would bake Christmas cookies this weekend - which turns out to be more complicated than he had anticipated. Fortunately, their new neighbor next door can help.

tags: AU! no outbreak, Joel has both of his daughters, FLUFF, hints at reader’s sad backstory but nothing specific, mentions of alcohol consumption, able-bodied reader, I think that’s it? Let me know if I missed something <3

dividers by @/saradika-graphics 🫶🏻

full masterlist here

follow @janaispunknotifs and turn on notifications for fic updates

shoutout to @reddedmiller for holding my hand while writing this and convincing me that it’s not trash, i love you bby <3

It’s Sunday, one week until Christmas, and Joel Miller is beginning to lose his mind.

His daughters had been bugging him about baking Christmas cookies with them for weeks, and he wants nothing more than to make them happy, but while Joel is many things, he’s certainly not a baker.

Work has been hectic lately, which apparently led to him forgetting to buy the ingredients that the girls swear up and down they had requested several times.

He’s had to sent Sarah to ask one of their neighbors to lend them something twice now and by the looks of it, he’s gonna have to do it a third time. She groans and insists to take Ellie with her this time, complaining about how this is “sooooo embarrassing, Dad!”

You furrow your brow when your doorbell rings for the third time in half an hour, a slightly disbelieving look on your face when you open the door and once again reveal the young girl from next door standing on your porch, this time accompanied by who you think is her younger sister.

You only moved into the house a month ago and don’t really know any of your neighbors, except for the elderly couple that lives a few houses over. They had introduced themselves hours after you moved in and have tried to invite you to come to Sunday church with them several times, an invitation that you consistently decline.

You know the girls though, you often see them through your windows, constantly pestering their father, who constantly fends them off in a kind of gruffy but clearly loving manner.

The girl who had introduced herself as “Sarah” when she first came by thirty minutes ago to ask for baking powder smiles at you apologetically.

“Hi… again. I’m so sorry, do you by any chance have cinnamon as well?”

You can't help but laugh this time. “What are you guys even doing over there? I think I do, why don’t you come in while I go check?” They nod and follow you into your kitchen where you start digging through your supply of baking ingredients.

“Our Dad said he’d bake Christmas cookies with us today, but he forgot to get the groceries for it,” the other girl explains. “I’m Ellie, by the way.” You smile and tell her your name, then hand over the cinnamon to them.

“That’s very sweet of your Dad,” you remark, “I’m sure he’s trying his best.”

Ellie’s eyes fly over your neatly organized collection of ingredients and baking utensils, then her face lights up with an idea.

“Hey! You look like you’re a good baker and our Dad is really struggling to be honest. Do you want to come over and join us?”

“Ellie,” Sarah argues, “you can’t just invite people like that, I’m sure she has plans already.”

You don’t, to be fair, but you’ve never spoken to their father before, who’s rather giving the impression that he likes to keep to himself.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude…” you begin, when Sarah looks around herself and notices that you don’t have any Christmas decorations up around your house.

“Or do you not celebrate Christmas?” she asks, “You obviously don’t have to come if that’s not…”

Your heart warms at how considerate the young girl is trying to be. “No I do, I just didn’t…” you trail off, not sure how to explain that it feels pointless putting up decorations just for yourself and that you don’t want the reminders that it will be the first Christmas in your life that you’ll be spending completely alone. You shake your head and plaster a smile on your face. You do like baking and maybe this will help getting you into the spirit.

“You know what? Okay, if it’s alright with your Dad, I’ll come over and see how I can help.”

Both girls beam at you and you follow them over to their house, where you find their Dad elbows deep in a mixing bowl with dough sticking to his fingers and swearing to himself under his breath. You feel awkward and definitely like an intruder but the girls’ mouths are going a mile a minute, explaining how you had soooo many baking supplies and that you had agreed to help them.

Their Dad introduces himself as “Joel” and you feel your cheeks heating when you notice how attractive he is up close. You had already thought that when you’ve seen him from afar, but now that you’re standing in his kitchen, it really hits you. Trying to snap out of it, you take a closer look at the dough that he’s fighting with.

“This needs more flour, then it’ll be less sticky,” you mutter, suddenly feeling a bit shy, and go to add it to the mix in his bowl. He huffs a “Thanks” and you smile, still fighting the heat in your cheeks but also feeling excitement buzz through you as your hand brushes against his when you pull back.

The girls kick back into action then, throwing several recipes at you that they want to try and you do your best to coordinate it all, running back to your place for ingredients several times, accompanied by an apologetic look from Joel every time, but you honestly don’t mind. His daughters are adorable and you’re having more fun than you’ve had in months.

Sarah turns on the radio and Christmas songs sound through the kitchen. With the music in your ear and the smell of freshly baked cookies in your nose, you feel at ease, comfortable.

When all the cookies are baked and thoroughly taste tested, the girls retreat to their rooms on the upper floor, leaving you and Joel alone in the kitchen. You find that you don’t want to leave, don’t want to go back to that big empty house where it’s just you, not now that you’ve basked in the warmth of this family home right next to yours all day. And just maybe, you want to spend more time with Joel.

“I have a bottle of pretty good red wine, shall I go and bring that? Half of my kitchen’s contents are here already” you joke and Joel laughs.

“I’m sorry about that, I’m usually better prepared, but work’s been crazy these weeks and the girls insisted on baking today, so…” He scratches his neck and you smile at him.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve had a great time today. Finally got me into the holiday spirit a bit, I kinda really needed that.”

You walk over and take the wine bottle back to his place where you sit down in the living room, the Christmas tree that has been mostly decorated by the girls shining in the corner and the several strings of fairy lights that Sarah has spread all over the room glowing around you.

You feel a warmth and comfort that you haven’t felt in a long time, but also a kind of envy for this feeling of family, of how clearly this man and the two girls belong together, how their house is basically imbued with love for each other. A feeling that you’re not sure you’ve ever had, but that you suddenly find yourself desperately longing for.

“So…” Joel begins, a faint expression of uncertainty on his face. “Is it just you over there, or…?” You understand what he’s asking and nod, a wry smile playing around your lips.

“Yeah, it’s- it’s a bit of a long story, really, but yes, it’s just me.” The understanding is clear on his face and he doesn’t push you, sensing that you don’t want to expand on the subject and you’re grateful.

You still talk about both of your pasts, where you grew up, where you went to school, learning that Joel lost his parents when he was young, only two years after he had Sarah, how it had been just the both of them in the beginning, with the addition of his younger brother whom he speaks of with the loving kind of exasperation that only an older sibling can muster up, and how he adopted Ellie a few years later.

You finish the bottle quicker than you would like to, and when Joel walks you home and you’re both stood in front of your door, you’re drunk on more than the red wine, a happiness in your veins that warms you from within.

Joel clears his throat, his eyes trained on your face.

“Listen, I don’t want ya to feel pressured or nothin’, but would you want to come over for Christmas Eve? ‘S just me an’ the girls, nothin’ fancy, just-“ he shrugs, his hands buried in his pockets, “don’t like the thought of you alone in this house on Christmas.”

It might be embarrassing how quickly you say “yes”, but you can’t bring yourself to feel that way. A smile stretches across Joel’s face as he tells you “good night” and kisses your cheek before you step into your house and watch him walk back to his.

Christmas at the Miller household is one of the best evenings that you’ve ever had. Sarah and Ellie have gone all out on the decorations now that they have a guest, leaving twinkling lights, glitter and ornaments in every corner and on every surface, Joel makes a surprisingly good dinner, you’re playing board games with the girls that dissolve into fights between them most of the time, everyone is talking over each other and you’re all eating chocolate until you’re sick with the sugar high.

Late in the evening, with both of the girls softly snoring on the couch, tangled up in each other like two overly large kittens, Joel and you are sharing another bottle of wine. You feel so full of happiness that you feel like you might burst, a smile on your face that feels like it’s never gonna leave again.

When it’s time for you to go home, Joel stands with you and walks with you to his front door. “Thank you again, for inviting me,” you smile at him, “this was probably the best Christmas Eve that I’ve ever had.”

He nods, his gaze dancing between your eyes and your lips.

“Merry Christmas,” you murmur, butterflies erupting in your stomach. He leans in and you hesitantly do the same. Before you can overthink it, you cradle his face in your hands and pull him towards you, your lips meeting in a soft kiss.

“Merry Christmas,” he whispers against your lips.

i hope you liked this!!! merry christmas and happy holidays 🫶🏻

#space sisters secret santa 2023 #janas fics #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel and sarah #joel and ellie #joel tlou #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fluff

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mermaidgirl30 · 3 months

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✨Welcome to the Moulin Rouge✨

A/N: I have been wanting to write a Joel inspired Moulin Rouge story for a couple months now. Didn’t know what the storyline would be, didn’t know how to quite put it together until I was listening to “Mr. Brightside” by The Killers. Needless to say, the song majorly inspired this one shot. So I hope you enjoy all the angsty Joel feelings since this is in his POV 🥰 We love a good angsty, jealous Joel. Enjoy, lovelies! This might very well turn into a full series once I finish up some of my other wips if people are interested ❤️ Comments and reblogs always make my day 💕

“His eyes upon your face. His hand upon your hand. His lips caress your skin. It’s more than I can stand.”

- “El Tango De Roxanne” from Moulin Rouge

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Pairings: Joel x you

Word Count: 1.5k

Tags: Angst, longing, love, jealousy, flashbacks, no outbreak! Joel

Summary: Welcome to the Moulin Rouge where touches and gazing eyes turn to feelings and longing that overpowers all senses. That’s where Joel meets you, the girl of all his desires. The girl that starts a fire inside him that he can’t control. But he’s not the only one after her. No. And he’ll have to share even though it destroys him.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The night is dark, foggy, a haze of misty rainfall that pelts against his thin tan jacket. Drip, drip. The rain comes down harder, beating against the slicked back tousled curls that now lay flat against his head. The air is cold, numbing, just like his chest feels now. It’s as icy as his begrudging, still beating heart.

He can hear it, feel it. Almost like he’s there in the room right now with you. He can feel the way the other man claws at your soft skin, hear the stadistic words that spray like venom out of his dirty mouth to you, can taste the way he dips his vicious tongue into your inviting mouth as you swallow the guilt and disgust away deep down your closed up throat. It burns like hot lava, burns like the back of a knife that cuts deep into his skin that smothers all nerve endings in one slice.

He can hear your faint cry of moans, feel you come apart around the other man, taste the stench of regret on your binded hands. You’re supposed to be his, not the other man’s. Mine, mine, mine. That’s all that plays in his aching mind.

Jealousy. That’s what this is, that’s what it’s always been. Ever since he found out that you belonged to him. Terrance. The other man. The absolute pain in his spine. And it wasn’t by choice, it was never by choice. It was arranged, an untieable agreement that was set in place by your uncle long before he even knew about it.

It was about money. It was always about the fucking money. It was to save your future, to get you out of the Moulin Rouge. But it was also about all the money your uncle would get out of the arrangement. And it was so fucked that he couldn’t quite wrap his head around the mess he was tangled in, but he wanted you. He wanted you so goddamn bad and nothing could keep him from having you.

The rain continues, lightning crackling in the near distance as the Moulin Rouge sign blinks big red letters over the whole city to see. It’s pulling the men in, calling their names to invite them into the twisted little fantasy where they’ll spend all their money and pay anything to sleep with the beautiful women of the Moulin Rouge.

The jealousy eats at him, consumes him as it twists its suffocating roots around his wrists and binds him to the ground where he has to watch you go into that back room of the Moulin Rouge with Terrance night after night.

It’s dismantling, unnerving to watch when there’s nothing he can do. He’s just a poor carpenter. He has no money to save you from this hell, has nothing to give except himself. But you always tell him that’s enough, that he’s enough for you. Because you want him, just like he wants you. He tells you he’s not good enough for you, can’t give you a bright future that you deserve. But you tell him he’s enough, more than enough. And it shakes him to the core every single time you tell him this.

His fingernails dig into the backs of his palms, almost to the point of feeling warm blood all over his hands. It’s too much, this is too much. He can hardly stand to even think of you in another man's arms. It burns, stings, pulls at him as his mind breaks apart. Ticking and ticking until he’s almost combusted into dust and remorse.

He needs to feel you, needs to wrap you in his arms as he holds you close in his little barely affordable single bedroom apartment. You always say you don’t care about the money, always say you just want him. And it makes the yearning even worse. Makes it barely tolerable.

You’ll come back, run to him when it’s all over, tell him how much you hate Terrance. Tell him how mean and cruel he is and that he just uses your body like a piece of meat, a golden trophy to display to all the rich, entitled pricks in that burlesque. It makes him sick, sicker than a starving dog. He wants to wring Terrance’s neck until he stops breathing, wants to really make him feel the pain that he does when you’re rolling around the sheets with Terrance, forced to perform for him. It makes him sick to death.

He takes a drag of his cheap Marlboro and inhales the toxic smoke as it soothes his racing heart, slowly blowing it out to try and clear his foggy, lovesick brain. He can almost smell the expensive brand of Cuban cigar Terrance lights after he fucks you, can almost see the way you lay there cold, lonely, in a heap of shame against the damp sheets. And it makes his skin absolutely boil with fury and resentment.

He’s not like Terrance. No. He cares about you, deeply, irrevocably. He’s always so careful with you, always so gentle and soothing and loving. He never does anything to hurt you, always puts your needs first, always takes care of you after he makes love to you in his tiny apartment. He loves you. Just like you love him, immensely.

He remembers the first night he came to the burlesque. He wasn’t even supposed to be here, but he found a group of unlikely writers that dragged him to the Moulin Rouge, to his doom. Remembers how he bought a bottle of whiskey that was so expensive he didn’t eat for two days after. He remembers the night so clearly, just like it was yesterday. Just like it was happening now.

He remembers seeing you for the first time up on that lit up stage, remembers how you kept glancing his way, eyes locking with his as you pulled him into a trance that was so strong that nothing could break it. He was hooked on the first look of your long waves that spiraled down your back, entranced by your big, beautiful eyes that called to him like a siren’s forbidden song, captured with the way your short, flowy pink dress hiked up your smooth thighs as tall, translucent heels wrapped around your feet as tight as they latched on to him.

He wasn’t supposed to end up in that dark room alone with you, wasn’t supposed to put his calloused hands on your smooth porcelain skin, wasn’t meant to dance with you to that slow, romantic song as he wrapped his arms around you and breathed in your sweet vanilla perfume. He wasn’t supposed to cup your chin and pull your lips up to his wanting mouth, wasn’t supposed to chase his tongue with yours as he drank down your cherry flavored taste, wasn’t supposed to get lost in your lips as he kissed and nipped at the plush skin, getting drunk off your taste, off your scent, off your skin.

He wasn't supposed to fall for you after one kiss, wasn’t supposed to tear off your dress and throw you on the bed as he crawled onto the silky sheets and crowded your body with his own. He wasn’t supposed to make love to you, wasn’t supposed to even be near you, but he did. He did. And it was the best thing he ever decided to do in his miserable life.

He was hooked right off the bat by your charm and your beautiful smile and the way you talked about your love of books. He wasn’t supposed to keep seeing you in secret, wasn’t supposed to keep coming back to you inside the burlesque, wasn’t supposed to fall for you when you had your entire life mapped out already.

He wasn’t supposed to fall completely in love with you. But he did, he did. So he’d take what he could, even if it was forbidden. Even if it meant there was a chance of getting caught. It was worth it to him, you were worth it. If he was caught, Terrance would surely put a gun to his head and pull the trigger, end the suffering he has to endure day after day. But he can’t stay away from you. No. You were his, and he was yours. Two doomed souls to walk the eternities of hell at the Moulin Rouge. Two fiery souls that burned for the other, pined for each other.

Forbidden love is like a bad habit that takes over every bleeding thought of the day. Inescapable, paralyzing, intoxicating. It feeds on you like a slow, corrupting disease. Consumes every part of your anxious, debilitating thoughts. But if that means he can have you, he’ll suffer. For you. For you he’ll do anything. Cross the entire ocean just to see your bright, starry eyes one last time. For you he’ll do it all. Anything. For you are his perfect diamond in the rough, his constant. Just as he is yours. The forbidden fruit you were never allowed to taste. But you did, you did.

Welcome to the Moulin Rouge where tainted dreams die and longing for the unreachable becomes your worst nightmare. The only thing that holds you up now is him. Only him. Your favorite forbidden desire. Your escape. Your lover.

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pedroscurls · 5 months

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Dirty Little Secret (Part 1).

Character(s): no-outbreak, age-gap!Joel Miller x fem!Reader Summary: You meet Joel Miller, the father of the bride. Word count: 1.9k A/N: Lol, I said I was gonna post this tomorrow, but I couldn't wait. I hope you guys enjoy this first part and thank you to anyone who reads this! As mentioned, idk what to call this, best friend’s fiancée’s dad!Joel x fem!reader? Lol, I feel like that's a bit complicated, but there's an age gap in this story. This is also pulled from my own experience (only the sexual tension... unfortunately nothin' happened lol🫣) Warning: age-gap (Joel is in his 50s, reader is in her early-30s) SERIES MASTERLIST

“So… Can you make it?”

“I wouldn’t miss it, Drew.” you tell your best friend, gently nudging his shoulder. “I just still can’t believe you’re finally settling down. I never thought I’d see the day.”

He laughs. Andrew - or Drew - has been your best friend since you were kids. You had moved into the neighborhood with your mom after she and your dad divorced and you remember how Drew and his family had welcomed you with open arms whenever your mom was too inebriated to take care of you.

Living next door to Drew and his family was a godsend to you, especially at the young age of eight. They protected you. They made you feel safe, made you feel loved. It was always a stark contrast between your home and his. Drew’s house, from the moment you stepped foot inside, always gave you the warm feeling in your belly and you always found yourself never wanting to leave, not wanting to go back home to the empty and lonely feeling that you experienced every night.

And now, over twenty years later, Drew and his family have maintained that unspoken promise to keep you safe, to protect you, and to always make sure that you were loved.

“Yeah, yeah,” Drew rolls his eyes. “What about you? When are you gonna settle down?”

Now it was your turn to laugh. You grab your wine glass and finish the last remaining liquid. “I’m not the marrying type,” you respond.

“You won’t turn out like your parents,” he says softly.

“Drew, I know,” you sigh. “I just– I don’t want to open myself up like that. It’s too scary.”

“You never know,” Drew smiles. “I thought I liked being single, being with a different woman every week or so, but Sarah…” he lets out a sigh of contentment. “She’s just– It’s been four years since we’ve been together and I think I fall more in love with her every day.”

“Okay, lover boy,” you chuckle. “We get it. You’re in love. You’re about to get married… But I agree with you. She’s the best, and she’s the only one of your girlfriends where she didn’t feel intimidated by me or our friendship.”

Drew sighs, “I know. It’s the curse of having a woman as a best friend.”

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes. “The women before Sarah were just jealous and not confident or secure in their relationship with you.”

Drew nods. “That’s true. Besides, you’re like a sister to me.” He smiles, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

“Like a big sister?” You tease. “Just kidding, we’re only a year apart.”

“Yeah, and I’m the older one.”

Just as you were going to say something, Sarah steps out into the backyard and walks in your direction. You look over at Drew and smile to yourself, seeing the way his eyes light up when he sees her and how he immediately stands up to meet her half way, enveloping her in a tight embrace.

“Hi, baby,” he whispers, gently kissing her temple. “How’d dinner with your dad go?”

“It was good. He was asking about you. Same with Uncle Tommy.”

“Ah,” he chuckles. “They’re gonna give me shit the next time I see them, aren’t they?”

Sarah grins and you swear that you see Drew fall in love all over again with the sight of her smile. You can see her deep dimples on her cheeks and how her eyes soften and also seem to smile. It was one of the first things you noticed about her: the kind and warm look she gave you – it was the same look that Drew and his family looked at you.

“You know it. Now, let me go say hi to my girl. Can you go inside and pour me a glass of wine?”

Drew nods and kisses her cheek before he disappears inside the house. Sarah takes his seat and looks over at you, arching her brow.

“What?” you ask.

“I might have someone that is interested…” she grins.

“Sarah,” you chuckle. “You and Drew need to stop playing matchmaker. The past two blind dates I have been on have been terrible.”

“You didn’t even give it a chance,” Sarah sighs.

“You know I like older guys,” you smile. “I just don’t want to settle down. Getting married and all that doesn’t have to happen for everyone.”

“I know,” she leans against you. “I just want you to be happy.”

“And a man isn’t gonna be the answer.” You look over at her. You can see the concern on her features – that was another thing that you learned about Sarah. She wears her heart on her sleeve and whenever she gets worried about the people she cares about, her face and expressions tell it all. “I’m fine,” you reassure her. “I got you and I got Drew. That’s all I need.”

“Maybe I should set you up with my Uncle Tommy,” she teases, letting out a quiet laugh. “He’s older. Single. He needs a good woman to anchor him down.”

“And why’s that?” you smile. “Is he trouble, Sarah?”

She laughs, shaking her head. “No, he just hasn’t found someone yet.”

“Like me,” you point out.

“He’s older,” she chuckles.

“Well, your engagement party is this weekend. I’m assuming he’s gonna be there?” you tease.

“Oh my god, are you serious?” You see the light in her eyes, the excitement across her features.

“No! He’s your uncle, how weird would that be?”

“Not weird,” she laughs. “It’d be weird if it was my dad you were interested in.”

“Isn’t he like fifty?”

“More than that, fifty-six.”

Drew steps out into the backyard with two glasses of wine, one for Sarah and another refill for you.

“Is this an early celebration?” you tease.

“We just wanna celebrate with you one-on-one before the pre-wedding festivities begin. It’s gonna be a lot,” Drew replies, sitting next to Sarah and wrapping his arm around her shoulders instantly.

“Well, whatever you both need, just let me know. After all, I am your best woman,” you tell Drew.

Sarah smiles and leans against Drew, bringing the glass of wine to her lips. “It’s gonna be fun,” she adds. “But Drew’s right. It will be a lot, so this is kind of like the calm before the storm.”

“Well, cheers to that then,” you laugh, raising your glass. “Cheers to you both and cheers for what’s to come.”

You’re running late and by the time you reach Sarah dad’s house, there are so many cars that you have to park at the end of the street. You’re practically sprinting to the house, hearing the music and laughter coming from the backyard. You’re wearing a sleeveless navy blue satin dress that stops just past your knees, the thin spaghetti straps resting on your shoulders with a cowl neckline. Their engagement party is semi-formal and you can feel your feet begin to ache from the heels you’re wearing.

Your hair is in loose curls and you’re about to knock on the door when it swings open. You look up at the man, feeling your breath immediately escape you. His hair is slicked back, tinges of gray in the dark brown. You notice his beard, patchy in some areas, his plump lips begging to be kissed, but as you obviously ogle this man, you don’t realize that he’s actually speaking to you.

“Are ya lost?” his voice is deep, rough, and you just want to hear it against your ear as he’s thrusting– “Are ya here for the party?”

“Yeah, sorry. I’m late. I’m Drew’s best woman–”

“Ah,” he interrupts. “You are late.”

You can’t think. The sounds of the music and laughter drown out as you stare up at this man. He’s wearing black slacks and a dark green button up with the sleeves folded to his elbows. He’s staring at you too, though, hand remaining on the doorknob as he looks at you in amusement.

“You gonna let me in or stand guard all day?” you say, trying to snap yourself out of this trance. For a split second, you forget why you’re here and all you can think about is talking to this man and having him take you up to his–

“That depends,” he smirks, the dimple on his right cheek appearing. “You gonna be polite and say please?”

You blush. You’re sure he didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did, but you can’t help but notice the way his eyes linger on your frame. It gives you a bit of confidence as you step up to him, inches now separating your bodies.

“Please,” you whisper.

You see his smirk falter, his jaw tighten and instead of responding, he nods and steps aside to give some space between the both of you.

“They’re in the backyard,” he adds. You step past him, looking over your shoulder at him to see that his eyes had fallen on your backside. When he looks up at you and realizes that you had caught him staring, he immediately clears his throat and points towards the driveway. “I’m just gonna–”

“Wait,” you interrupt, reaching out to rest a hand on his forearm. “I didn’t get your name.”

“Joel,” he responds. “Sarah’s dad.”

Then, he removes himself from your grasp and walks out, shutting the door behind him. You clear your throat, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Shit,” you whisper to yourself. “He does not look fifty-six.” You turn on your heel, following the sound of chatter and music as you try to rid yourself of the lingering thoughts of Joel.

Joel isn’t expecting Drew’s best woman to look like you. When he opens the door and you’re standing on his doorstep in that dress, it takes every ounce of him not to look at you from top to bottom. It helps, though, that he notices you staring at him like you want him. It actually gives him confidence that a pretty thing like you is finding him attractive enough that you’re distracted enough not to hear what he’s actually saying.

But then he hears you say that you’re Drew’s best woman. It all but crushes him, crushes any ounce of hope he was holding onto that maybe at the end of the night he’d take you to his bed. You’re off limits and you’re certainly too young for him, but he can’t help himself.

He can’t help but ask you to beg and say please to come in.

And when you do, without any hesitation, he feels the blood immediately rush towards the center of his pants. When you step closer to him, Joel has to tighten his jaw and tighten the grip he has on the doorknob. It anchors him, gives him something to ground himself or else he is going to lose his resolve… quick.

When you finally step inside and walk past him, he turns just slightly to glance at your backside. The dress you’re wearing accentuates every curve while remaining modest enough, but he can’t help himself. Though, when Joel does look up, he feels embarrassed that you’ve caught him staring.

He has to step outside, has to create some distance between him and you, but then he feels your soft touch on his forearm and it causes a shiver to run down his back. After he tells you that he’s Sarah’s dad, Joel doesn’t bother to wait to see your reaction. Instead, he leaves you standing there while he steps out of his house, shutting the door behind him and shutting the door to the inappropriate thoughts that fill his mind.

next.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #joel miller au #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller age gap fanfic #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x f!reader #story: dirty little secret

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bobbithewriter · 3 months

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Miller's Secret

Chapter 1: Cafe Kisses

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader Rating: 18+ Word Count: 5058 Series summary: [NO OUTBREAK] You don’t know how or why but you find yourself drawn to an older man. His broad shoulders, strong arms, and pepper gray hair drive you wild. But there’s one problem: he’s your professor. Unsure of how to get over this crush you decide to apply for a mentorship… under him. It could all go horribly wrong, or it could be just the thing you both need. Series warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT, this is so smutty I’m not even sorry. Very veryyy brief mentions of Y/N (if any). Age gap- reader is in her 20’s while Joel is in his late 40’s/ early 50’s, it’s not specified. Student/Teacher relationship but it’s not what you think. Inappropriate relationships, yearning, tension, sexual tension, sarah doesn’t exist here (sorry girl), secret relationship, cursing. Chapter summary: After crafting the perfect schedule for your last year of college, you find out that one of your classes in your first semester got dropped. Forced to find a replacement, you settle for Intro to Philosophy with Professor Miller. You’re in for a big surprise. Chapter warnings: 18+, Smut, fem!reader, professor!joel miller, sexually explicit thoughts, cursing, age gap, inappropriate thoughts/dreams, oral (f receiving), sexual tension, secret relationship.

A/N: This is the first chapter to what I hope will be an interesting series. It goes without saying that this is all FICTION. enjoy:))

The heat is stifling outside, the sunning blazes down, scorching the Earth beneath it. It’s nearing the end of summer and you just can’t believe it’s gone by as fast as it has. Although you’ve spent most of it working, like today, there have been a few moments of relaxation sprinkled in, but not nearly enough for your liking.

Making your way into your two bedroom apartment, you toss your keys on the coffee table near the door. You kick off your shoes and rush to turn the A.C. on hoping to be rescued from the heat. The apartment is silent, your roommate, Jade, is most likely at work giving you time to decompress from the very tiring shift you’ve just had.

You enter your room and are welcomed by your cat Lulu whose orange fur shines thanks to the sunlight passing through your window. Clothes litter the floor, books and magazines lay scattered on your nightstand and desk, your room is a proper mess, but it’s your mess. You make your way to the rickety wooden desk that sits against the wall closest to your window, pulling the near see-through curtains together in hopes of keeping some of the sun out.

You open your laptop and look up your school’s student sign in, hoping to review the courses you’ll be taking this semester. Although you’ve grown to love school and love the structure it provides you with, you feel an immense relief knowing that it’s your last year in college. The parties and events are fun but you finally feel ready for more, you’re hoping for something more worthwhile. Lucky for you, your last two semesters are light ones since you’re not taking nearly as many classes as usual- you shudder thinking back to your freshman year when you thought taking seven was a good idea. Last spring, when registering for classes, you crafted the perfect schedule: four classes fall semester, three classes spring semester- easy.

You scroll down to the bottom of your schedule only to find that one of your classes, an elective, has been dropped. Confused, you grab the notebook from the shelf above your desk and flip through the pages until you find the schedule you outlined back in April. Sure enough you see that your photography class has been dropped due to them not finding a professor for the course. You check your student email and find that you were sent a message back in July notifying you of the change. Frustrated at yourself for forgetting to read your emails, you return to the school’s registration page. Unfortunately, with classes starting next week, you know that the chances of you actually getting a class you’d find interesting are slim to none. You scroll and scroll until you’re able to find a class that fits with the rest of your schedule: philosophy. Great, you think, two hours a week dedicated to listening to some old guy drone on and on about ethics and morals and what the meaning of life is.

The cursor hovers over the register button. Do you really want to do this? You have two options: you could always take photography next semester with the professor you like, or, you can suck it up and get this elective over with and earn another three credits but be forced to listen to a bunch of existential nonsense. You, for whatever reason, pick the latter. You rationalize with yourself that it’s only one class and it’s just one step closer to graduating. You decide to mull over the syllabus jotting down a list of school supplies you might need for the upcoming school year when you get a notification from your email.

Professor J. Miller

Fall A- Tuesdays and Thursdays 10:30-12:30- Office hours: TR 1:00-3:00 or by appointment

Welcome to Intro to Philosophy! Like the title suggests this course will be the most basic introduction to philosophy and its integration into our society. No textbook is required for this class but I do expect you all to come to every class prepared to discuss the handouts I give you. Participation is a requirement for this class and I look forward to hearing all of your thoughts and opinions. Looking forward to meeting you all next week!

Best, JM

Although you won’t have to spend even more money on textbooks for the class, the prospect of having to show up every other day for weeks on end just to earn a participation credit is enough for you to groan aloud.

The week goes by quickly, between work, getting ready for the upcoming semester, and hanging out with Jade, you’ve barely had any time to yourself. Lucky for you, you don’t have any classes on Monday giving you time for some much needed self care. You complete your yearly before-school-starts-self-care-routine, trimming your hair, painting your nails, shaving your legs, plucking your eyebrows- the works.

You spend the day lounging about your room, playing your favorite albums on your record player to fill the silence. You try on different outfits feeling totally relaxed for the first time in weeks. As if on cue you get a notification from your phone. Opening your email you find a message from Professor Miller with a full copy of the syllabus and a short article to read.

Good afternoon everyone! Below I have linked a copy of the syllabus and an article for you all to read before class tomorrow. I hope to spend less time going over the syllabus, only answering questions you might have, and more time talking about the contents of the paper. Please come prepared!

Best, JM

Great, homework before you even start the class. You move to your bed where lulu is sprawled out and begin reading the article. You read paragraph after paragraph discussing value theory and metaphysics, taking notes as you do with the hopes of actually understanding what you’re reading. You finish and decide that you’ll review the notes tomorrow before class. Surely it won’t be that bad.

You wake up later than you intended and realize you don’t have nearly as much time to get ready as you wanted. You get ready quickly knowing you’ll have to stop by your school’s cafe since you didn’t get a chance to eat breakfast. The drive is a short one and eventually you’re pulling into the student parking lot.

Grabbing your backpack and keys you enter the cafe, the smell of freshly brewed coffee filling your nostrils. Looking at your watch you realize you have 20 minutes till class starts and relax a bit. You order your usual, a vanilla latte with two shots of espresso and a chocolate croissant, and wait for your name to be called. Behind you you hear the bell on the door jingle signaling that another customer has entered the already very busy cafe.

As you wait you can’t help but look around at the cafe’s patrons, some are clearly students while others are harder to discern, maybe professors, maybe alumni, you’re unsure? Your university is located at the center of the city so many alumni linger around, finding jobs after graduating but still gathering at some of the college’s most popular cafes and restaurants. You’re broken out of your thoughts by the barista calling out names and orders.

“Large six shot quad espresso with extra ice for Joel”, shouts the barista.

Your eyes first land on the very large cup filled to the brim with espresso and then to the person picking it up from the counter. Your eyes trail up from his hands, to his arms, and finally to his face, ogling him unintentionally, and you’re met with a sly grin from the man standing in front of you.

“Sorry for starring”, you laugh, “I’ve just never seen someone order that many shots of espresso in a single cup.”

“What can I say, I like my coffee strong”, he laughs. “I’m Joel”, he says, extending his hand out for you to shake.

The man before you is tall, six foot if you’d have to guess, with broad shoulders and large arms. He’s sporting a light blue button down and navy blue trousers that make his already tan skin seem impossibly warmer and brighter. His dark brown hair is peppered with grays as is his beard- though you wouldn’t really describe it as a beard, more like scruff. His hands are large and pretty much engulf your own as you extend your hand to shake his. His shake is firm and you find the handshake lingering longer than you both probably anticipated.

“I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you”, you reply. From the looks of it he’s anywhere between his late 40’s or early 50’s, but you’re not really sure. His brown eyes hold your gaze momentarily and you notice that he too is sizing you up. You snap out of it when you hear your name called.

“Small vanilla latte with two shots of espresso for Y/N”, the barista shouts again.

“Ah I can see why my six shots would scare you”, Joel jokes, keeping his body facing you as you reach for your breakfast.

“Yeah well caffeine tends to make me jittery and I’ve got class in a bit so I’m trying to keep the coffee to a minimum”, you respond. “Anyways, I better get going”, you say, “It was nice meeting you, Joel.”

Before he has a chance to respond you find yourself walking to the door but not before turning back around and giving him a small smile. As you make the short walk to your first class you find yourself thinking of him. It’s been a while since you’ve been with a guy and maybe that’s why you find yourself still thinking about this stranger but a part of you also knows it has more to do with his good looks. You’ve never really found yourself attracted to older men like that, partly because you live in a college town where most of the guys you interact with are no older than twenty five and partly because you’ve just never met an attractive older man in person.

You think back to his face, a blend of strong, masculine features but with a much softer side as well. The slight curve of his nose and edge of his jaw seemed almost drawn with charcoal, and you can’t help but think back to the warmth in his eyes.

God it’s been too long since you’ve been with a guy, now you’re replaying a five minute interaction with a total stranger. Great. You take your phone out to text Jade.

Y: Dude I just saw the cutest fucking guy, too bad he was like 50:/ It’s actually concerning how touch starved I am bc im literally daydreaming about this guy and we said like five words to each other LMAO J: OUUUU DILF DILF DILF Girl go for it, who cares if he's old, hot is hot Did you get the sexy strangers number?? Y: NO our interaction lasted maybe two minutes J: Too bad:( It’s okay bc I hereby declare that we are officially going out this weekend and you’re gonna get laiddddd Y: okay this conversation is over J: this. weekend.

You smile despite yourself and fasten your pace hoping to leave any thoughts of Joel in your wake. You take the stairs up to the second floor and enter the room. Although it’s not quite as big as a lecture hall, there are a decent amount of students already there waiting for class to start. You take a seat in the middle of the third row, your usual spot since it’s close enough to seem engaged when you want but also far enough away so you’re not in the direct line of crossfire when it comes time to participate.

You’re too distracted getting settled to notice him walk in but when you look up you see Joel… in your class… walking to the podium? You’re struck with the sudden realization that he’s your professor. Your professor is Joel. Oh my God. The sexy stranger, as Jade put it, is literally your teacher.

It seems that he notices at the same time as you do and he gives you a warm smile. Okay, there’s no need to freak out. He clearly doesn’t care so why should you and really there’s nothing to even care about right. It’s fine, he was clearly making normal conversation and you just happened to be the sex-deprived stranger he gave his attention to. There is absolutely no reason to overthink this. So what your teacher is cute, it won’t make a difference, you’re here to get your credit and go.

He makes his way around his desk and podium and begins, “Good morning class, I hope you didn’t have too much trouble finding the room. It’s good to see you’re all here so let’s get started shall we. If you have any questions about the syllabus now is the time to ask, I want to get started on dissecting the article I had you all read.”

His voice is clear- confident- and you can’t help but to hold onto every word he says. He looks around the room, waiting a beat to see if anyone raises their hand and moves on.

“Okay great, now I want you guys to first raise your hands and tell me your thoughts on the paper itself, did you like it, did you dislike it? Feel free to get as specific as you want.”

Around you, your classmates raise their hands and participate, voicing their opinions on the paper. Some thought the paper was interesting, others didn’t, but there seems to be a universal agreement that the paper was difficult to really understand, a fact your professor seems to catch onto.

“So it seems as though the room is pretty split between whether the paper was good or not. That’s fine! Philosophers have disagreements all the time. But how many of you really understand what Value Theory is, hm? Can someone explain what it is to the best of their abilities, it’s okay to be wrong, that’s why I’m here”, he says.

You raise your hand, “Value theory is, at its core, worried about justifying our value judgments and the actions that follow. It basically tries to answer hard questions like what it means to pick between the ‘lesser of two evils’ or what it means to be a ‘good’ person.”

“That’s exactly right”, he says, holding your gaze for a moment and giving you a small smile.

You return his smile with pride, happy to have gotten the answer right. You’ve always excelled academically and although you would never admit it to anyone else, you crave the validation you get from your professors and peers.

The rest of class continues on like normal with Professor Miller explaining the differences between Value Theory and Metaphysics and how they might help us answer some difficult questions.

Class continues as normal and just as he’s about to dismiss everyone he gives a few housekeeping reminders: two papers to read before next class, office hours are Thursdays after class, and mentoring?

“Like the syllabus says, I do mentor a small group of students each semester who want to get a more in depth understanding of philosophy. Unfortunately I cannot mentor every single one of you so if you want to be one of the lucky students please submit a one-page proposal of sorts by the end of class Thursday. If you have any questions feel free to email me. You’re dismissed”, he says.

Packing your things you’re left with this new idea to ponder. It might be good to have Professor Miller as a mentor so you can get another letter of recommendation, but you’re not even sure you even enjoy philosophy like that. You have a couple days to decide anyways, who knows what you’ll end up doing.

The rest of your day drags on slowly and by the time you finally get home you can’t help but sink onto your carpet floor and just lay there. Lulu hops off the bed and curls up next to your side. You let out a groan thinking about just how much homework you have to do and it’s only your first day. Two papers to read, a proposal to write- you decided you’d take a shot at it, there’s no guarantee you’ll even get picked so who cares- a four page research paper due, and an online quiz. You mentally thank yourself for only having picked three classes this semester.

After eating dinner and showering you decide to start on your proposal. You rack your brain trying to come up with at least three different reasons you want this mentorship. One: you need another letter of recommendation- you plan on applying to graduate school or law school and both require amazing letters of rec- and one from your philosophy professor would look good. Two: you find philosophy interesting (sometimes) and maybe one on one sessions with your professor will strengthen that interest. And three: it doesn’t hurt that your would-be-mentor is easy on the eyes. Okay that third reason isn’t really a reason it’s more of a plus but it’s still valid.

It takes you longer to submit your proposal than it does to actually finish it. You deliberate the options: you could submit it and work closely with Professor Miller, if you get picked that is, or you could never submit it and never have to worry about being in close proximity to that man. Fuck it, you think, and click submit. You hope you don’t end up regretting that.

Thursday comes and goes pretty uneventfully with the exception of Mr. Miller telling your class that he would release the names of the students picked for the mentorship by the end of the weekend. You, surprisingly, aren’t at all nervous. You know that if you get picked it will look great on your resume but if you don’t it won’t really make much of a difference.

Unsurprisingly you spend the rest of your day studying and going to work, it seems as though your days consist only of those two things now. When you get home you find Jade sitting at the dining room table on her laptop. You decide to join her seeing as you both have seen so little of each other because of all the craziness that the start of the semester consists of.

You guys quickly stop working on any actual homework and start talking about random stuff, friends, boys, work, and school. Eventually the conversation shifts to your professor.

Jade gives you a smirk, nudging your arm, “So how cute is he really? Do you have a picture of him or something, I’ll be the real judge.”

You open your laptop again, scrolling down your course page until you find his picture. Zooming in, you turn your computer towards Jade.

“Sweet baby Jesus, that is the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. Oh my GOD! Is it too late to register for this class?” she laughs. “If you don’t make a move I will.”

You laugh, snatching your computer back from her. “You know I can’t do anything, he’s my professor. It would be totally unethical”, you say.

“It would be totally fucking hot”, says Jade. “Come on it’s not like you’ll get expelled or anything, it says nothing in the Student Code of Conduct about it so you’re fine.”

“Have you ever even read the Student Code of Conduct?” you retort.

“Well no, but I’m sure it doesn’t say anything about that”, Jade laughs.

You both stay there talking for another hour or so, taking turns telling each other about how your days have gone. Eventually Jade decides that Saturday night is “the night” as she puts it.

“We are so getting you laid, you need it more than anyone I know, no offense”, she says.

You give her a glare but ultimately give in. You haven’t gone out since that one night last semester that ended with you holding Jade’s hair as she hurled the contents of her stomach into the toilet. You’ve never been much of a partier, much less someone who enjoyed one night stands but if you’re honest with yourself, it’s been a barren few months and you haven’t had much company with anyone except Bertha, your vibrator. Maybe it was finally time to give into the college craze and sleep with a random person, no emotions, no strings attached, just sex.

The thought stays in your head throughout the rest of your day. As you’re getting ready for bed you open your laptop and can’t help but look at the picture of Mr. Miller there. He really is sexy, you think, as you’re reminded of his broad shoulders and strong arms. You fall asleep with the thought of him in your mind.

You’re sitting in his office, nestling yourself further into the wicker chair. You close your eyes taking in the smells of his office, rich mahogany, oak, and leather. You feel him behind you, his presence close enough for you to feel the warmth radiating off of his body. Your heart seems to stop, anticipating his next move. His hands trail up your arms leaving goosebumps in their wake. He lowers his head down to your shoulder and you feel his breath against the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down to the base of your spine.

“Do you know how wrong it would be for us to do anything? Hm?” he whispers.

His voice reverberates through your entire body, straight to your core. You feel the familiar flutter in your lower abdomen and the way your heart seems to start beating again but this time impossibly fast.

His lips press a kiss to your shoulder and you instinctively move your head to the side, hoping he takes it as a sign that you want more. His fingers trail up your arms again but this time to your neck, pressing the pad of his thumb down onto the skin he just kissed.

“Your heart’s beating a little fast there sweetheart, you alright?”

You nod, silently praying your body doesn’t betray you again.

“Hm. Are you lying to me now? You know”, he says kissing your neck again, “good girls don’t lie. Are you a good girl?” he asks.

You think you nod again but your mind is so out of it you’re not sure if you actually do or not. His scruff lightly scratches against your smooth skin as his left hand wraps itself around the base of your left shoulder and his lips make their way up and down your right, your breath hitching as he does.

Against your ear, he again whispers, “Tell me the truth, baby. Do you want me to touch you? Do you want me to take you right here?”

Your mind is reeling from his touch, his lips, his words, you’re struck silent for once.

“You know baby, if you’re honest I might just give you what you want. C'mon darlin’ be a good girl and tell me how much you want it.”

You open your mouth and pray that your voice sounds stronger than you feel right now. “I want you to touch me. Please touch me”, you whine.

“Where do you want me to touch darlin’? Your breasts? Want me to play with your nipples? Or your cunt? I bet it’s already so wet for me”, he whispers against your skin.

“Both”, you cry out, spreading your legs apart praying he gives you what you most crave.

He lifts you up from the chair and spins you around, pressing you firmly to his front. He moves one hand to your hair and pulls it gently, angling your face to his. His eyes have gone from brown to nearly black and it sends another shiver down your body. His lips crash into yours in a kiss so earth shattering you feel yourself turn to mush, leaning against the desk for some support. With one hand in your hair and the other on the small of your back, pulling you impossibly closer to his front, you finally get to feel the hard dent in his pants. You moan into his mouth and regain some sense. You kiss him with a newfound intensity, pawing at this chest hoping to feel some of the hard muscle beneath his shirt.

He smirks against your mouth, chuckling at your urgency. “You’re so damn cute when you’re desperate, baby. Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you want”, he says before his hands begin exploring your body even more. You feel the hand that was on the base of your back move down your ass and give it a hard squeeze, that familiar flutter in your abdomen returning. His lips once again move to your throat and down your chest; you feel your face getting hot and your breaths getting more rapid because of the lack of oxygen. He begins unbuttoning your satin blouse, replacing where the buttons were with kisses.

He moves you so your back now rests flat against his desk and you feel him kiss lower and lower down your body. He kisses his way down to your naval and begins unbuttoning your jeans, pulling the zipper down slowly, taunting you.

Just when you think he’s going to give you what he wants, his lips start going back up, following a similar path as before. He kisses your breasts over the mesh balconette bra you’re wearing, your nipples hardening as he does. You’re moaning wildly at this point, never having been this turned on before. His hands move to your back, unclipping your bra and tossing it to the side. He begins attacking your chest with a fervent need, softly biting your nipples, forcing a moan from deep within your chest. Your hands make their way to his hair and you tug at the base of his curls needing an anchor as you feel yourself slowly begin to lose it. You’re desperately trying to find some friction between your legs and you start grinding your still covered cunt against the dent in his pants.

“Look at you, such a sweet thing grinding against me. Cmon baby, tell me again how much you want it”, he says as his lips make their way down your body again.

“Please” you beg, “I want it so bad, please just fuck me.” Your chest is rising and falling rapidly and you’re almost certain you look fucked out of your mind even though nothing’s even happened yet.

“Oh I’m not going to fuck you here, honey, though I bet you’d fucking love it”, he says.

Your chest deflates a little from disappointment and you can’t help the low whine that comes out of your throat.

“I will, however, give that pussy the attention it deserves”, he says again, this time pulling your pants down past your hips and off your legs.

Your heart begins racing as he kisses his way down your stomach, stopping right at the edge of your panties. He looks up at you and sees pure desire written all over your face. He kisses your center over the fabric of your panties, making you jolt from the sudden contact. Moving to kiss along the inside of your thighs, his scruff scratches harshly now against your skin. His fingers wrap themselves along the sides of your panties and he slowly peels them off of you.

You look down at his kneeling figure, fully clothed with his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a stark contrast to your entirely naked form spread out for him on his desk.

“So fuckin beautiful”, he says against the skin of your thighs, peppering kisses there at random. Just as you're about to beg for the fourth time, he wraps your legs over his shoulders and dips his head between your thighs. He licks a long strip up to your clit where he starts sucking relentlessly. Your fingers find themselves digging into his hair, holding on as you grind yourself further into his mouth. He licks your cunt until you’re writhing in pleasure, holding onto the desk and his hair for dear life. You feel that familiar knot in your stomach begin to form and you chase it. You’re a moaning mess when he starts to tongue fuck your pussy, so close you could scream. His nose continuously bumps against the hood of your clit and you think you see stars.

“Fuck I’m close”, you moan, your back arching against the cool wooden desk.

One of his hands comes up to tug on your hardened nipples while the other finds refuge between your thighs. You feel him smirk against your skin and you realize why when he dips a finger into your spasming hole. His large finger works itself in and out of you, pushing you closer to your release.

“You like that baby?” he asks. “Cmon I want you to come for me. Can you do that sweetheart?”

Not waiting for your response he adds another finger, fucking you in tandem with his mouth. With every stroke you feel yourself getting closer, your juices gushing down your inner thighs, producing a sound so obscene it’s bordering pornographic. It’s only when he curves his finger, hitting your g-spot that you feel yourself lose it.

“Oh my God-”, you cry out, “Fuck I’m cumming.”

Your legs shake beside his head but he doesn’t stop fucking you through your high. Your mind is blank and your thighs are sticky from your release and you think you might have just gone to heaven and back.

You wake with a gasp in your bed. You’re drenched in sweat and you feel your shirt sticking to the skin on your back. The boyshorts you’re wearing feel wet and sticky from your release. You sit up trying to momentarily catch your breath and you stare in the mirror directly across from your bed. The skin on your chest is red and blotching and your sheets are rumpled.

God, did you really just have a wet dream about your professor? Maybe applying for this mentorship was a mistake.

#joel miller #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel miller x reader smut #miller's secret #the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #smut #fanfiction

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skyshipper · 1 year

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@tlounetwork | THE LAST OF US WEEK 2023 DAY#3: FAVORITE PARALLEL - BILL SAVING FRANK // JOEL SAVING ELLIE

#tlouweek2023 #the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou #tlouedit #tlouhboedit #tlounetwork #joel miller #pedro pascal #ppascaledit #pedropascaledit #ellie williams #bella ramsey #bill x frank #nick offerman #murray bartlett #skyshippergifs #*tlou #i love a grumpy man with a secret heart of gold

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ohblitz0 · 1 year

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sugar - agent whiskey

pairing: jack ‘agent whiskey’ daniels x fem reader

summary: basically porn with a teeny tiny bit of plot. guys this is my first time really writing some smut so lmk what you guys think!

word count: 3.5k

warnings: maybe a bit ooc?? idk. (18+) smut u filthy animals. unprotected p in v. (wrap it before you tap it!) language, dirty talk, rough sex, fingering, bondage and I think that's it?

Your life had been pretty mundane before you were lucky enough to get a stable job at a company called Statesman. Statesman was a company that sold the finest whiskey in the United States and just so happened to be an undercover spy organization. Life wasn’t so dull anymore. How you found yourself here was a long story but even if hard to admit– there was some pretty eye candy at your disposal.

Your job wasn’t too tricky. You had plenty of things to do like paperwork, let's see... More paperwork– some combat training which was fun and then dealing with Mr. Agent Whiskey. You’d be lying if you said you hated it but nobody had to know how you truly felt about the matter. You liked to keep that your little secret. After all, Jack didn’t need his ego flattered anymore than it already was. The constant smirking and cockiness that basically evaporated off of him was a lot to handle at first but you got used to it– even enjoyed it. You couldn’t help it after spending so many hours with the man, you eventually developed some affection for him. The constant flirting, the damned pet names, and that handsome face were enough to reel you in. You also admired how hard working he was, all those late nights spent together investigating for missions, you saw how he took pride in his work.

Speaking of late nights at the office.

Your fingers rubbed at your temple trying to soothe the dull ache that would soon become a migraine if you didn’t take a break from reading and sorting out so much paperwork. The sun had set a long time ago but you were still there. Trying to prepare for tomorrow's assignment. You weren’t alone, Jack had stayed behind as well. You could see his office clearly, the light still on, just across from where your desk was on the outside. During regular shift hours, when the building was full of life, you would exchange many words with him but on nights like these both of you were as quiet as a mouse. Sighing, you looked at your now empty coffee cup and contemplated asking Jack if he would like a cup on your way to make yourself one. You felt silly for being shy all of the sudden, you’ve known him for quite a while now but simple acts like this seemed far more intimate?

“You got this,” you murmured quietly as you grabbed your cup and slowly walked towards his office. You could see his shadow sitting on his desk through the privacy-stained glass and your heart skipped a bit. Once you made it to his door you knocked softly before entering.

“Come in.” you heard the muffle of that sweet southern drawl before opening his door and standing on the threshold with a small smile. God– he looked handsome. His cowboy hat was set aside on his desk, hair slightly disheveled but still as handsome as ever.

“Still here, darlin’?” he said with a cat-like grin, a small chuckle following after as he leaned back into his chair, arms crossed. You couldn’t help but notice the way his eye gave you once over before licking his lips. You nodded with a small laugh, fingers grasping your mug tightly, taking a step inside his office now.

“Was wonderin’ if you’d like a cup as well? I don’t know about you but I needed a pick-me-up.”

He hummed before getting up from his seat, walking around and towards you. He gently grasped your mug from your hands, you could feel his warmth just by the brush of his fingers and it sent a shiver down your spine. As he grabbed the mug he leaned back against his desk before setting it down. There was a small puzzled look on your face, lips slightly parted in loss of words before he filled the silent void for you.

“How about we just take a breather, you and me? How’s that sound, sweetheart?” his voice sounded as gentle as ever, but you felt some tension in the air now. Maybe, it was because you didn’t know if you should sit down or not, you felt glued to your spot.

“Sounds... Sounds fine,” you murmured almost breathlessly, maybe it was the fatigue taking over, your normal bubbly personality dying down and what was left was just bashfulness. You clasped your fingers together, a small smile on your face, your eyes diverting from his for a moment, seeing his whip and lasso still attached to his hip. You wondered why he still had those on, the day was over and this was definitely not a combat situation. You might have been staring too long because the husk of that southern accent awoke you from your thoughts.

“Like what you see, baby?”

A small scoff left your lips, “Cocky as ever aren’t you–” your words were soon caught in your throat as you felt him grasp your wrist and pull you into him. Perfectly fitting between his legs, his free hand grasping your chin gently. You felt heat rise upon your cheeks from this newfound proximity, your feet trying to pull you back but failing due to Jack pulling you right back in.

“What the hell!”

“Is that any way to talk to your superior?” His voice was deep and strong. This wasn’t the sweet, playful voice you had been used to. This was different. You felt intimidated and shocked, and you felt that familiar warmth spread inside you. This was so out of the blue, you still couldn't fully register what had happened. Lips parting, words on the tip of your tongue but failing to come out. Of course, Jack was your superior, you were his right hand but the dynamic was always playful, and he was rarely ever stern with you. Your quietness wasn’t appreciated as his hand moved from the gentle grasp of your chin down to the side of your neck, forcefully pulling you closer to him. Your nose was almost touching his as he spoke.

“Do I need to repeat myself, sugar?”

“No– No.” you stammered out weakly, eyes staring into his own, trying to understand where this all came from. “No, what?” His voice was sharp, and mean, and it made you shiver.

“No, sir.”

He hummed in approval, both of his hands moving to grasp both of your hands gently. The contrast between rough and gentle demeanor was driving you insane– you loved it. He stood up off his desk, hands still holding yours as he stared down at you. “Tell me to stop.” He whispered, eyes searching yours for any signs of discomfort, reluctance, disgust, anything. He was asking for permission and it made you feel safe. He felt safe. Of course, that was the bare minimum but it meant the world to you, especially coming from someone you had admiration for. A smile formed on your face before you spoke.

“It’s okay Jack.” You whispered, body subconsciously leaning towards him more, feeling his warmth and wanting more. You could smell his scent, aroma filled with his cologne, smoke, and whiskey. It was addicting. He nodded, humming in satisfaction before he abruptly swung you around. Now you were in front of his desk and him behind you.

“Hm, I don’t think it’s okay at all, darlin’. Every day I come to work, here you are all dolled up and I’m just dying to have a taste.” His hand pushed at your back, your hands flying forward bracing yourself against the desk. Sliding his hand further down, pressing against your spine making you press your body fully onto the desk. Your cheek flushed against the wood, hands flat on the surface. Your chest heaved, feeling your breath pick up, you could feel yourself already soaking wet for him.

“And these dresses? Oh, babydoll.” He said with a ��tsk’ hand grasping the ends of your dress and hiking it up. You were definitely glad you wore some cute underwear today. You heard a small groan behind you, trying to tilt your head to see him but failing because of his hand that had trailed down to keep you in place. A whimper slipped past your lips as you felt his hand cup your sex. His thumb pressed against the folds, feeling your arousal coat your underwear. Your thighs closed in on his hand from the blissful feeling. A rough ‘No’ was heard from behind you, his knee pressing between your legs and spreading them apart to gain more access.

His body leaned over your own, his other hand pressed beside your head now bracing himself above you. His fingers moved your panties aside, fingers generously circling around that spot you needed the most attention from. He alternates between a slow pace, to fast, to slow, and it is beginning to drive you insane. Tears brimming your eyes, eyes lashes wet, you're pretty sure your mascara was running down your face. A complete mess under his touch. Then suddenly you felt a finger pressed inside you, filling up that empty ache.

“Mm, please…” you gasped out almost pathetically, already drunk on his simple touches.

“Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ll give you what you need. You’ve been so good after all.”

Another finger was added. Then another. Three thick fingers filled you almost too perfectly. There was a slight tinge of pressure but you invited the pain. You couldn’t help but circle your hips around his fingers, adjusting to the feeling of being so full of him. It was just his fingers and it had you unfolding before him already. All you could hear was your heavy panting, small whimpers of pleasure, and his sultry voice in the quiet building. This was your place of work, where you now had a man plunging his fingers inside your pussy at a delicious pace. Now every time you’d walk in for work, you’d remember that feeling and the thought made you even wetter.

You began to feel that pleasurable release build up inside of you, your eyes were beginning to flutter closed before you felt your hair being tugged, craning your face to look upon the man before you.

“Eyes on me, sugar.” His voice rasped, his lips ghosting over your jaw before kissing it gently. Your eyes stayed open after that, trying your best to remain eye contact as he thrust his fingers at a rapid pace now. You mewled at the feeling, that delicious build-up was near and your walls clenched around his fingers tightly. All you could really focus on was the feeling, the wet noises of your arousal, and his deep voice littering you with praise.

“Doing so good for me, sweetheart.”

“Look at you. Such a pretty little mess from just my fingers, huh?”

“Scream my name as loud as you need to, sugar.” And then you felt it hit you, your legs shook and your thighs desperately wanted to press together from the overwhelming feeling but were unable to because of Jack’s knee keeping you spread open for him. His name tumbled from your lips, a small whimper following as your hips circled and rode out your high.

He pulled away slowly, his fingers leaving your wet hole, as he stood up towering over your body. You slowly turned yourself around, knees wobbling, as you leaned up against his desk. Your eyes couldn't help but wander down and see the large bulge straining against his tight denim jeans. You watched as one of his hands, you guessed the one that was just in you– fingers glistening with reminisce of your release, grasped his belt buckle and began to undo it swiftly.

“Hm, I think you're ready for real fun now, darlin’.” He said, a devilish grin gracing his face as he walked back to his desk chair. You noticed he was still holding his belt, his whip still attached to it. You followed suit as you heard him tell you– “Come here.” in a gentle tone. Your legs felt so weak, still shaken from your last orgasm but your arousal was still there. You wanted more– needed more.

He looked undeniably sexy sitting before you. Thick thighs spread wide for you allowing you to stand between them. “Take it off, sweetheart.” He said, eyeing your dress as he went for his tie loosening it. Your hands pulled your dress off, leaving you in your undergarments. Your chest heaved up and down from your soft breaths, fingers grasping the back of your bra as you unclasped it boldly. It was silly how heat filled your cheeks as your chest was now bare before his eyes after what just happened minutes before. Now fully naked before him after pulling your last garment off you stepped closer to Jack. His arm wrapped around your waist pulling you to straddle his lap, the roughness of his jeans scraping against your warm skin.

Your eyes stared back at his brown ones, a small smile grazing your lips as your delicate fingers grasped his face. Noses brushed against each other as a small giggle left your lips making a smile etched on his face. Finally, your lips met his soft ones in a gentle kiss. His mustache tickles your upper lip but you didn't mind one bit. Foreheads pressed together as the kiss broke, breathing each other in as you caressed his jaw sweetly.

“To answer your question from earlier– I do like what I see,” you murmured upon his lips, pressing them against his once more for another quick kiss. He chuckled, one that was deep and rumbled in his chest. Biting your lip to contain yet another smile from that sweet sound.

“Such a good girl, huh?” his hand pressing into the small of your back, pushing you closer to his body if it was even possible. Your eyes fell curious on his other hand that still grasped his belt. Holding it in front of you, his other hand now grasping your wrists together, you had an idea where this was going and weren't mad about it one bit. Your heartbeat quickened as he began to wrap the belt around your wrists tightly. “So good.” His murmured praise made your cheeks flush and your cunt drip arousal down your legs. Once the belt was secure, your eyes fell down as you watched him pull his cock free from his jeans.

Fuck. He was huge. How was he even hiding that thing in his pants? It was long and the girth was thick. His hand stroked his length a couple times, thumb grazing his tip that leaked pre-cum. He saw that surprised look on your face, making him grin and a small chuckle leaves his lips. You noticed he held his whip still, now setting it on his desk. “Maybe, we'll use that next time.” You heard him murmur which perked up your ears. Thinking about the next time made your heart flutter.

“You gonna take it like the good girl you are, hm?” So enthralled by him, your parted lips failed to answer him as you watched him begin to push his tip inside you. Suddenly you felt a sting along your ass from him slapping it, the skin beginning to turn red from the impact. A loud gasp left your lips from the action, your bound hands resting along one of his shoulders trying to find purchase.

“Answer when I talk to you, darlin’. Understood?” He said, his voice rough as he plunged the rest of himself inside you.

“Fuck! Yes.. I’ll be good!” You whimpered out from the sudden fullness. It was like the wind got knocked out of you. Your walls clenched around his cock tightly, trying to get used to this new feeling. His hands rested on your hips, rocking them back and forth slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size. Once the small sting began to vanish and was now filled with mostly undying pleasure, your pace began to pick up.

Your bound wrists went over his hand, fingers grasping the nape of his neck as you rutted your hips into him. His lips attacked the side of your neck as you swayed your hips against him, moaning and panting his name like a song.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby,” he grunted, his hot breath fanning over your skin sending a shiver down your spine. His fingers still grasped your hips tightly, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips helping you keep your steady pace. “Doing so well, taking all of me. Knew you could do it. That sweet cunt was made for me, wasn’t it?” And it truly felt like it did, it fit so well inside you, snug, and hit all the right places.

That familiar sound of your wetness and skin connecting on skin filled the room along with heavy breathing and Jack’s foul mouth.

“Yes! Mm.. just for you.” You moaned, hips stuttering as you felt that heat pool into your core, that delicious build-up close once more. Your chin was able to rest on top of his head from this angle and you rutted into him. His face was pressed into your breasts, lips latching onto one of your lips, sucking and kissing the soft flesh. His hands gripped your hips roughly, stalling your movements before he lifted his own and started thrusting into your hole at a killing pace. A scream left your lips, a shriek from the sudden brutal pace as you held onto him. Your walls began to clench around him, your orgasm almost reaching its peak.

“You gonna come for me, baby?”

“God, yes... Please.”

“I’m close, baby. Come with me, sweetheart–” he grunted as he continued his brutal pace. You whined his name, like a plea, as you pressed yourself back down on him, circling your hips and bouncing on his cock. Your walls clenched down on him like a vice grip as you came, mewling in bliss as your head fell against his shoulder. Your thighs shook as your body slumped into his. His hips began to stutter and with a few more hard thrusts his seed filled your swollen hole. His hands guided your hips in a lazy circle against his cock, riding out his high, the actions made you cry out from the sensitivity.

“I know, sugar. Sh, I got ya.” He whispered against the shell of your ear. The two of you stayed like this for a few minutes. His cock is still buried inside you as he unravels your wrists. The skin was red and swollen but you didn’t care. You liked that he marked you in some way. He placed gentle kisses along your face as he moved your hair away from your face.

“Did so well for me. Like you always do,” he whispered against your lips before connecting them with your own in a lazy but sweet kiss. And that phrase had so much meaning to it. You have always been by his side since you got hired here. Every mission, every wound was tended to, the hardships and all that shitty paperwork. You were there. And after tonight, the two of you changed. A fire was ignited and those shied feelings now were in the open.

────────────

Of course, this would happen to you. After last night you went home, of course fully satisfied, and slept like a fucking baby halfway through your important briefing for the next mission that you were supposed to be preparing for the night before. You were in a frantic mess all morning, hurrying to get ready and grab all your shit before bolting out the door and driving to work. Your mind was still in a haze from the night before and your cheeks flushed as you stepped into the building and headed toward the elevator. The top floor is where the magic happens. Literally.

You took a deep breath before exhaling, trying to ease your anxiety from being late and elevate the embarrassment you felt for being late. It wasn’t like you. But of course, one single touch from that goddamn agent that you are spiraling. You decided that you’d put the blame on the handsome man. After all, he did fuck you till you were seeing stars.

As you walked in, a fellow coworker eyed you with a knowing look. ‘You’re in for it’ her face said as he nodded towards the briefing room where now only Jack Daniels himself sat. You sighed, walking in and shutting the door behind you. Setting your folder down on the table you clasped your hands in front of you, finding it hard to look at him at this point. Before you could get a word out, that familiar southern drawl filled the air.

“Tsk, and I thought you were a good girl? Looks like that reward got to your head, sugar.” He chuckled with a shake of his head, grinning at the way your cheeks turned red. A little embarrassed that your coworkers were right outside as he said those words.

“Jack— I'm sorry really—“ you began to say before he shook his head once more with a whistle. His figure stood up from his seat as he began to stalk over you like prey.

“Y’know actions speak louder than words, beautiful. I’m gonna need you to show me just how sorry you are, baby.” He finished as he stood in front of you now, toe to toe, a finger grasping your chin. At that moment you truly realized just how different things would be.

#pedro pascal #pedro x reader #agent whiskey x female reader #agent whiskey smut #agent whiskey #kingsmen secret service #kingsmen golden circle #smut #tlou smut #joel miller

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