Joel Miller X Reader - Blog Posts

MISCELLANEOUS MASTERLIST

Hello! My name is Kandi and I am an aspiring author. In this masterlist you can find all my works for this series linked under their respective characters. I write for the characters listed but I will make exceptions if requested. Thank you and happy reading!

SIMON KALIVODA (FEAR STREET)

-coming soon!

KEVIN KHATCHADOURIAN

-coming soon!

JARETH THE GOBLIN KING (The Labyrinth)

-coming soon!

MORT RAINEY

-coming soon!

VICTOR VAN DORT

-coming soon!

TARRANT HIGHTOP/THE MAD HATTER

-coming soon!

EDWARD SCISSORHANDS

-coming soon!

LYDIA DEETZ

-coming soon!

WEDNESDAY ADDAMS

-coming soon!

MORTICIA ADDAMS

-coming soon!

JOEL MILLER (The Last Of Us show)

-coming soon!

ELLIE WILLIAMS (The Last Of Us show)

-coming soon!

GILBERT GRAPE

-coming soon!

ARNIE GRAPE

-coming soon!

JUDD BIRCH (Big Mouth)

-You Big Softie, You! (Judd x Fem!Reader)

KURT KUNKLE

-coming soon!

This masterlist along with my others will be updated any time a new fic is dropped or in the process of being worked on.

𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘧𝘶𝘭 || joel miller x reader

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 || joel wasn't looking for a follower, or a protégé, or an employee— whatever you're supposed to be— when he saved some dumbass kid from a couple runners. but he ended up with you anyways, and you swore to always be faithful to him... in every way.

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 || 9.2k

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 || smut (18+ only; oral f receiving, unprotected sex, very slight dacryphilia kinda?, a touch of degradation and dumbification in there, and virginity loss with some pain and one mention of blood), heavy age gap (not specified but the reader is absolutely an adult), insecure crybaby reader, unrequited love/pining, reader wants to fuck joel so bad it makes her look stupid (and we love that for her cause same), angst, tess getting kinda screwed over but only because it's absolutely necessary for the plot, emotionally repressed joel, mention of reader's parents being deceased (implied to be infected)

this fic does not contain spoilers for anything but minor details from episode one!

They were doing that thing again— where they talked in front of you, as if you weren’t there.

“So we make the run tonight,” Tess decided, standing while Joel sat on the worn-out sofa with his hands clasped and his elbows resting on his knees.  “We should be back by four, that’s when the FEDRA boys have their shift change, so we can avoid too much risk of getting caught.”

“What should I do?” you piped up.  They both looked at you with that oh yeah, she’s here glare and Tess sighed; she didn’t try very hard to hide her frustration with you, but at the same time, she was actually nice to you when she was in a good mood (which was rare).  Joel was less mean but also less nice— he stayed steady in his neutral-to-mildly-irritated state, and you figured if he wanted you to fuck off, he would’ve said so (probably in those exact words, too).

At the same time, they both instructed you flatly: “Keep watch.”

You sighed, shoulders sinking.  “Again?  Can’t I at least—?”

“You’re safer here,” Joel insisted.

“Yeah, and your gun is safer in the box under the bed, but it’s not gonna do shit to protect you if you never take it out,” you countered.

Tess scoffed.  “And what are you gonna do to protect us?”

“I wasn’t,” you admitted.  “You know I’m a great shot, but I wasn’t gonna try to shoot anybody.  I’m quieter than both of you.  I can get in and out better— and nobody’s looking for me.  Everybody knows you’re smuggling—”

“Not everybody,” Joel defended himself in a mumble.

“ — so if I do get caught, I can probably get out of a search,” you bargained.

“And what are you gonna do to get out of a search?” Tess smirked.  “Bat your eyelashes?”

That did sting, but you rolled your eyes and hoped you had effectively looked like it didn’t affect you at all.  “If implying that I’m pretty enough to get out of a search is supposed to be an insult, I can’t wait to hear one of your compliments, Tess,” you replied— but your voice was soft and almost shaky, not as confident as the comeback merited.  That summarized you pretty well: you had the will to be tough, but when it was time to really go for it, your body failed you and your hands got shaky and your eyes watered.  Almost anything could make you cry, Tess had already made fun of you for it; Joel just seemed to get really uncomfortable when you started crying, but you always did your best to hide it from him.  It just didn’t usually work.

Your whole face probably lit up when you caught Joel’s suppressed smile— did he think your joke was funny?  He hadn’t been smiling when Tess made fun of you, so it had to be what you said— or maybe he was thinking of something he would say if he cared enough to say it, some comment about how you could do more than that to get out of being searched.  He didn’t seem the type to make comments like that, but he was well aware what guards might let (or make) a girl do to avoid punishment.

“Whatever,” Tess decided, shaking her head, “you’re not coming with us, that’s the point.”

“Joel gets a say, too!” you blurted out.  “You can’t just pick for him that I’m not coming, he has to—”

“You’ll stay here,” he interrupted.  So much for getting Joel to let you go— you thought maybe he would side with you, for once.  Deflating, you nodded, and they stopped paying attention to you at the same time that you stopped paying attention to them.

Your mind wandered in times like this, when they were talking and it was clear that it didn’t concern you; Tess said once that you had an ‘overactive imagination’, but she hadn’t said it in a really mean way (like she said most things).  You didn’t want Joel to think that you were always daydreaming, but you couldn’t help it sometimes— you really just hoped that he didn’t know he was the subject of so many of your thoughts.

Truth was, he’d caught your eye long before he even knew you existed.  You’d seen him around, doing all those odd jobs he did to make ends meet, and thought he was… well, handsome, but not just that.  Mysterious.  Intimidating, though he didn’t exactly intimidate you— okay, he did, but not like he did everybody else.  He intimidated others because they were afraid he would hurt them; he intimidated you because you kind of wanted him to hurt you.  Not, you know, bad, just… maybe a hand around the neck or pinning you to a wall or something?

It wasn’t in spite of your inexperience that you had thoughts like that— it was because of it; you had been lonely for a long, long time, and maybe it was just fantasy, but you always wanted someone like Joel.  You wanted someone to take care of you, protect you.  You were just guessing that he was capable of that, but he proved it when you met for the first time.

It wasn’t exactly a meet-cute, or even just a pleasant way to meet; you were short on rations, because you’d given most of yours away to Mrs. Davis who was too old and weak now to earn any extra for herself, and someone offered to pay you ten if you snuck something they could sell out of the old mall in the QZ… well, that went about as poorly as anyone would’ve expected.

You asked Joel what he was doing there, after he’d saved you from the runners, but he refused to tell you.  Either way, it was the best luck you ever had that he showed up and fought them off.  For a moment, he’d held you close to him as he pulled you away from the Infected; you wished, later, that you hadn’t been too terrified to appreciate that.

Ever since, you’d sworn yourself to him— in more ways than one, but he only knew about the main one: you wanted to assist him however you could, figuring after he saved your life that you should dedicate it to his service.  Well, Joel had never been interested in your assistance, or anything else about you.  It was actually Tess' idea to let you stay: "if she wants to help, let her do it for free," she whispered to Joel, and he shrugged, and he did.  That was how it ended up like this: you were the squeaky, wobbly third wheel of Joel and Tess’ operation, more often than not doing the least important work if not filling your time with essentially goose-chase tasks they invented to keep you occupied.  Keep watch and listen to the radio were your biggest assignments; just wait here was another common one, when they were too lazy to call it one of the other two.

Tess left a little while later, and Joel laid down on the sofa.  You broke away from your thoughts and tried to make yourself useful— you got up to rinse the dishes, humming a random tune to yourself as you worked.  You were already back inside your head, wondering if you should tell Joel it was a song you’d heard on his radio and had stuck in your head ever since.  Probably not worth it; it usually didn’t go well when you tried to talk about things like that.  Joel and Tess talked about before a lot— well, it wasn't that often, because it wasn't very productive to talk about it.  But they talked about it occasionally and you never had anything to say.  Once, you tried to weigh in: they were reminiscing on concerts before the outbreak, bands and artists they remembered, and you chirped about how "I read about that in a book once!"

They both glared at you, and you didn't say anything else.  But you didn’t take it too personally, they just didn’t want to feel old— but you didn’t think either of them were old!  These days, old wasn’t a matter of years, it was really just about usefulness— like poor Mrs. Davis, she was old, she couldn’t do much for herself anymore— and they were both… actually, they were both significantly more useful than you.  That made you sad.  But at least Joel had helped you get better with guns— not that he ever let you carry one. 

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” Joel broke the silence as you washed his favorite mug.

“I know,” you said back, voice light and chipper.  “You don’t have to.”

You felt his eyes linger on you for a moment after that, but he didn’t say anything else.

~

Though they had decided already that you weren’t joining them on the run, you ended up there— mostly by happenstance— when Joel and Tess met with the buyer who wanted half of what they managed to bring back.  Not many people in the QZ could afford that kind of contraband, so it made sense that it was one of the FEDRA soldier’s bankrolling this.  They were by no means rich, but they had a lot of pull and could provide all sorts of ration cards and promises to look the other way if future issues arose.  He couldn’t guarantee safe movement out and back in through the boundaries of the city, but he at least promised to look the other way in any future run-ins with the law.

“So that’s it: you’ll leave at eleven, you’re back by four, and you bring me my share the next day during my break?” the soldier confirmed.

“Yep,” Tess agreed.  “Quick and painless.  Hopefully.”

You didn’t expect the man’s eyes to land on you, but you didn’t particularly care for it.  "Is your little lap dog coming, too?" he smirked, glancing at Joel after he was finished raking his stare over you.

Your face got hot instantly, with shame and confusion.  "I— I'm not in his lap," you denied, "that's not— we don't—"

“No,” Joel interrupted firmly, “she’s not coming.”

There was an awkward silence, the place where he might’ve said and she’s not my lap dog, if he cared much about the accusation.  Tess seemed to be hanging onto that silence nearly as tightly as you were.

“Whatever,” the soldier finally brought everyone’s attention back to the conversation, “just meet me here tomorrow at half past one, and we’ll see what you’ve got.”

You were still thinking about that conversation that night— while you were keeping watch, like Joel had asked you to.  It was really boring; you spent most of the time on the couch, reading a book you’d bought off someone for a few rations.  After a while, your curiosity got the better of you, and you started snooping around Joel’s apartment.  There wasn’t much to look at… he didn’t own much, just a few shirts— actually, you thought those jeans he always wore might be his only pair…

Your search led you to his bed.  Even with no one here to see you do it, you were a little embarrassed to lean in and take a whiff of his pillow— but it was totally worth it.  It smelled just like him, that warm piney kind of scent he had; in times like this, not many people could afford to smell nice, but Joel could.  Not to say that he was the type to splurge on all the nicest stuff, you were pretty sure he didn’t even own cologne, but he owned shampoo and deodorant, so that put him in the 80th percentile for hygiene in the Boston QZ.

But it wasn’t just those products you smelled on his sheets— there was something quintessentially Joel to it all, something impossible to define but incredibly addictive.  It was instinctual, the way you got in his bed and curled up in those sheets, burying yourself in the comfort of him.  It was so easy to imagine how he might hold you, now that you were here— all you were missing was his strength, his weight, slow and steady breaths behind you as he drifted to sleep…

You woke up when you heard the door shut.  Startled into sitting up, you were hoping you’d have time to get out of his bed before he saw you— but he was already standing there, staring at you.  He was just a shape in the dark, so you couldn’t see his face, but you heard the exasperated sigh.

“I thought I told you to sleep on the couch,” he said.

“R-right, sorry,” you coughed, recalling last time this happened with a pained wince.

“Better yet, I thought I told you to keep watch!”

“You know you just say that,” you mumbled, “so you can keep me away from the real work.”

He didn’t say anything, probably because he knew you were right— but even if he’d wanted to, he couldn’t, because Tess walked in a second later.  “Can’t believe he tried to stiff us,” she was saying as she walked in, half-laughing in frustration.  “Well, yeah I can,” she added a second later.

Her attitude changed when she saw you in the bed.  “I— I’ll go back to my—” you started, but you ended up just getting up and leaving in a hurry before you could really finish your thought.

Wiping a small tear from under your eye quickly, you walked out of Joel’s apartment and started for your own bunk across the city— even though it was more likely than not that somebody would hassle you for walking around during curfew.

Yes, if you had a little more self-respect, you would just stop hanging around those two and find some other work to do, but Joel had done something for you that you could never repay and never forget.  He didn’t have to love you the way you loved him— and you’d been sure for a while that he never would— but couldn’t he at least be a little nicer?  You wouldn’t feel right being anywhere but at his side, no matter how much he made it seem like he never wanted you there at all.

~

Honestly, you did consider not going back the next morning— but you figured they might actually need you for the next part.  Okay, not need, but they could at least use you for something: after smuggling anything in, you need a fence, someone to pawn this stuff off.  Joel and Tess did a decent job of keeping a low profile, but it was even easier to do so when they had someone like you moving contraband around Boston’s population.

So, after a few hours of sleep on that radically uncomfortable cot, you decided to head back to Joel’s place.  The sun was just above the horizon by this time, but only the people working early shifts for their rations were up now; you liked the city best when it was quiet like this, but then again, you liked almost everything better quiet.

Usually, Joel’s apartment was the same way.  But when you walked in, the energy was completely different than you were used to.  Where you’d normally find Tess counting up the score while Joel sipped on coffee (or liquor, depending most on the hour), instead you walked in on what was clearly a lover’s quarrel.

The thing was, this was not your typical argument— they were doing it Joel and Tess style, which is to say, as repressed as possible.  In fact, they weren’t even talking when you walked in, but just the way they were standing was indicative of the discomfort they were clearly trying not to acknowledge.

Tess was at the window, arms crossed, looking at the view; and you knew that was a bad sign, because there was no view to be had, the QZ was an eyesore and she complained about it all the time.  Joel was sitting at the table, facing the other way, his hand squeezing his own fist instead of the handle of his mug— it didn’t look injured, but his face still had a hint of pain on it.

“I’m sorry—” you mumbled, not sure what you were apologizing for yet, but Tess interrupted you.

“I’ll go,” she decided, walking over to the table.

“Okay,” Joel agreed, not looking at her.

Well, you were no relationship expert, and you didn’t even know what they were arguing about… but you knew that was pretty cold.  “So that’s all you’re gonna say to me?” Tess prompted him, her tone tight and her eyes red.

You kept your head low, as if that would hide the fact that you could clearly see and hear all this.  

“Yeah,” Joel decided, not as aloof as usual; it reminded you of how he usually spoke to you, that frustration, but it was definitely different.  More… exhausted.  “Yeah, it is.”

Tess put her weight predominantly on one leg, her hips shifting, as she let out a scoffing sort of breath.  For a moment, she looked at you; you looked back at her shyly from beneath your brows before looking away.  Why would she look at me right now?

Shaking her head, she left, mumbling to herself but you couldn’t make it out.  The door slammed behind her.  Joel sighed next.

“Everything okay?” you asked sheepishly, twisting your boot on the floor to watch the shapes it made in the thin layer of dust.

“Clearly,” he insisted, and the sarcasm was obvious though his voice was neutral.  You could tell he didn’t want you to prod more— anyone who knew Joel for two minutes would know that— but you still chewed your lip as you wondered what you should do.

Your attention turned to the stacks of contraband on the table; most of it was perfectly legal material to own, just not legal to acquire from outside the city’s perimeter.  “Looks like a good haul this time,” you noticed, hoping a change of subject would soothe him a little.  Maybe it did, but he didn’t show it.  He just kept squeezing his fist, and you gently sat down across from him at the table— and you started doing what you figured you should, going through what they’d brought back and starting to figure how much you could get for it.

For a while, he entertained that conversation, though with as short of responses as possible.  Not even a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’, just hums and grunts that got the point across.  You could tell he was thinking, but you could also tell he didn’t want to be— that he’d rather forget about all that.  For once, he was struggling to do that.

It scared you to imagine doing something he so obviously didn’t want you to do, but you knew you couldn’t ignore it forever.  “What made her so upset?” you asked softly, finally.

He paused for so long that you thought he was just ignoring your question, but he did eventually say something.  “She told me something I wasn’t ready to hear,” he answered, “and… and I guess I said the wrong thing.”

“What did you say?”

“Actually, I didn’t say anything,” he admitted with a thin laugh.  “But, I said nothing in the wrong way.”

"... Do you think she'll come back?" you pressed, and his sigh was answer enough.

You had to wonder if he'd make you a real partner in all this now.  Probably not, right?  He thought so little of you before, that wouldn't change just because Tess was out.

“I’m sorry,” you decided.

“It’s not your fault,” he promised.  “It was me.”

You didn’t press on that, already thankful and pleasantly surprised by how much he’d shared.  He stood up a moment later, leaving the table and moving to the kitchenette so he could make some coffee; oddly, that comforted you.  Like things were going to go forward now, like life could be normal again and he would still drink his coffee.

For a while, it was quiet— just how you liked it, and how you figured he liked it, too.  He was humming a song at one point but you didn’t think he realized he was doing it.

It was so quiet, in fact, that when you went to lay on the sofa later, you ended up accidentally dozing off.  You couldn’t say how long you were asleep— you were pretty underslept, but it didn’t feel like more than an hour— just that you were awoken to the sound of movement in the kitchen area.

Sitting up, you tilted your head when you saw Joel had begun packing up the contraband haul— well, half of it.  “What are you—?” you began to ask, but then you saw the time, and you remembered; but he answered you anyways.

“Our buyer’s on his break now,” Joel announced as he stuffed a pack of bandages into his bag.  “I said I would meet him to show him what we got.”

“I can go with you!” you announced.  “You know, if Tess isn’t—”

“It’s fine,” he insisted, “I can do it myself.”

“Joel, please,” you pressed, “I promise I’ll do whatever you need me to, I just wanna help—”

“I need you to stay here,” he frowned.

Some things never change, huh?  “Why don’t you just let me go?  Let me help you?” you whimpered, lip shaking as you started to cry.  You hated yourself for it, but you knew you couldn’t stop it.

There was a pause before he responded.  “I don’t like the way he looks at you,” Joel explained, but you doubted that was the real reason he didn’t want you to come.  “It only takes one of us, you’re better off here.”

“Tess was gonna go!” you reminded him, getting more upset.  "I know I'm not…" you trailed off as you tried not to cry too much or too loudly.  "I can't do what she can— I'm not strong…"

He sighed as he knelt down in front of you, resting his hand on your knee.  You peeked out from behind your fingers, but looked down again.

"I'm not— I'm not smart, either," you whimpered.  "I don't know anything, about before, about now—"

"That's not true," he mumbled, but you weren't finished yet.

"Nobody knows why you even keep me around, I sure don't," you shrugged, dropping your hands defeatedly, hot tears running faster down your face and dripping onto your pants; his hand reached up and wiped your cheeks with a gentleness you never knew he had.  “M’not… I’m not tough, like you guys…”

"You know what you are, little girl?" he replied quietly.  "You're good.  You're sweet.  Me an' Tess, we need someone like you to keep us from bein' sad old assholes all the time…"

He sighed, and you thought was done talking, until he spoke again, softer.

"I need someone like you."

Your heart swelled, and light filled your chest, until you had just enough confidence to finally blurt out what you'd been holding in for months: "Joel, you should know that I always—"

"Shh," he soothed, nodding.  "I know."

Your face got hot instantly again, and your heart sank.  "I think everybody knows," you mumbled awkwardly, giving him a half-smile through the drying tears.  "But I thought— it's just that you never—"

“I couldn’t,” he insisted.  “You understand that?  I couldn’t, not with you—”

“Why not?” you snapped.  “Why can’t you?”

“If you don’t know why, you’re more hopeless than I thought,” he frowned.

“I know— I know I’m… a lot younger than you…” you mumbled, almost not wanting to say it in case he actually hadn’t noticed that.  “I know you think I’m not very mature and stuff… but that shouldn’t matter when you really love someone—”

“Woah, hey,” he coughed, “love?  Sweetheart, you’ve got a crush—”

“No!  Don’t tell me how I feel,” you snapped, surprising both of you with your sudden ability to stand up to him.  “You can tell me what to do but not what to feel.”

“Okay,” he softened up, “fine.  That’s fair.  But it’ll pass—”

"I've never loved anybody before," you whimpered, "and I'm never gonna love anybody like I love you.  I know that!  I know you think I'm just a stupid kid who doesn't understand love, but I know that I really love you!  Okay?  So just… just stop talking!  Doesn’t need to take this long for you to reject me, geez…”

There was a pregnant pause, you were too caught up in your own frustration to really notice it: the way he looked to the side, chewing on the inside of his cheek for a moment.  You weren’t expecting him to say anything after that, so it nearly startled you when he spoke.  “It was last night, after you left,” he explained.  “I— I thought about telling you to come back, figured you’d be safer on the couch than walking back across the city at that time…”

Wrapping your arms around your chest, you smiled a little imagining that, but you knew you couldn’t have taken him up on that offer: it would’ve killed you, trying to sleep on that sofa while Joel and Tess shared the bed.

“She told me not to,” Joel continued.  “That’s… that’s how it started, I guess…”

“That girl’s so obsessed with you,” Tess laughed lightly, toying with Joel’s lapel.  “It’s cute, really.  I mean, it’s sad— but it’s cute.”

“Hm,” Joel said first, not really listening— it took him a second to properly react.  “Why is it sad?” he asked when her words processed completely.

“‘Cause she thinks she might actually have a chance,” Tess explained.

That was it, what he did wrong; he sees it now, in retrospect, but at the time he figured saying nothing was his safest bet.  Apparently, he didn’t have to say anything.

“Shit,” Tess said suddenly, moving instantly from shock to anger.  “Are you fucking serious?”

“What?” Joel spat.

“You know fucking what,” she returned sharply.  “That look— you looked away.”

“Okay?  So?” Joel tried to defend himself, but he knew that she knew now— believe it or not, he really wasn’t much of a liar.  Especially with her.

“She’s a goddamn fetus, Joel,” Tess reminded him.  “She hasn’t seen a hundredth of the shit we’ve seen, she hasn’t lost anyone—”

“Lost her parents,” Joel corrected.

“Well, we all lose our parents,” Tess rolled her eyes, “that’s part of life.”

Not the way she lost them, Joel wanted to add, but he was going back to his original plan of saying nothing.

“She’s not like us,” Tess insisted.

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Joel decided.

That was the point of no return; because Tess had never thought of you as competition, she barely even thought of you at all, but if innocence was something he wanted… then the competition was already over before it even started.  The silence was heavy, more sad than angry, and Joel knew he really fucked up because he’d never really seen Tess speechless before.  Is it bad that he didn’t regret it, though?  Maybe he could’ve handled things better, but telling her the truth couldn’t be wrong.  It’s not like he’d been hiding it, really— he never even acknowledged it himself, not often.

“I can’t believe you,” she shook her head, and shame twisted in his gut.  “Part of me always— not always, I guess, but part of me wondered.  Sometimes the way you looked at her…”

As she trailed off, Joel looked down, too afraid for her to look in his eyes now.

“You’d do anything to keep her safe,” she said instead of finishing that last thought.  “I told myself you didn’t look at me like that because you knew I could protect myself.”

“I do,” he promised.

“So what do you want?” she asked point-blank.  “Something you can protect, or something you don’t have to?”

“And what did you say?” you asked hurriedly.

“I told her what I wanted,” was all he replied, and your heart skipped.  “And that’s… that’s why she left.”

Joel nodded slightly, looking away.  But you reached out and touched his face, turning it back towards you.  Impulsively, you leaned forward and kissed him; it took all the courage you had, and a hand on his shoulder for balance, but you felt him kiss you back after a moment.  It was gentle, for how sudden it was, and you sighed as his hand moved higher up your leg.  

You were still crying, because of course you were, but he didn’t mind as much as you’d worried: he only wiped your tears away, holding onto your face, standing up and pulling you with him.

“I love you,” you whispered as he embraced you, wanting to say it a thousand times now that it wasn’t the worst-kept secret in Boston.  “I love you, Joel—”

“I know,” he promised, whispering back into the kiss which got deeper with each passing moment.  “I know, darlin’.”

That was enough for you— that was plenty: the way he kissed you, and held you, calling you darlin’ in that rough-yet-gentle voice… you were weak already, melting into his touch, ready to give him anything.

In fact, he had to put a hand on your shoulder and gently push you away to get you to calm down, and your face heated up as you realized how eager you’d been.  “Don’t need to get so worked up, m’gonna take care of you now, okay?”

“You always take care of me,” you noticed.

“A different way,” he explained.

Just the way those brown eyes darkened, just the way he said that made your thighs clench against each other.  “Y-you’ll miss the meeting with the buyer,” you realized.

“Fuck,” Joel grumbled, and you smiled a bit.  “Waited this long and now I’ve gotta fuckin’ leave you again.”

Your hand rested on his chest, the soft flannel of his shirt transmitting some of the warmth of his body, and you looked up with him with wide, wet eyes.

“I know you hate waitin’ here, but… I always liked it,” he admitted, his voice softer yet deeper.  “I always liked knowing you were here, waiting for me…”

Your heart swelled.  “Y-yeah— I didn’t mind waiting for you so much,” you admitted in return, “just didn’t want you to think that’s all I was good for.”

He kissed your temple, making your chest flood with warmth.  “I know,” he promised.  “You’ll be here when I get back, won’tcha?  Can’t disappear on me now.”

“I won’t, I’ll be here,” you assured, turning your face to peck his cheek in return.  It seemed to surprise him, like he hadn’t had tenderness of that sort in a long time.

~

Funny how you’d waited for him all night before, but that half hour felt longer than all of them combined.  You were quite sure you knew what he meant before— about how he would take care of you in a different way— and it put you on edge all afternoon.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d kissed you, about his hands pulling you closer.  Or his eyes: if he’d ever looked at you like that before, you hadn’t noticed (which was probably what he intended).  

For how much time you spent wondering what you would do, what you would say, when he returned, you ended up not doing much of either: he was on you the moment he stepped in the door, though that was sort of what you’d been betting on when you decided to strip down to just your underwear and wait for him like that.  Not that you minded the idea of him, you know, tearing your clothes off like one of those romance novels— you just didn’t like the idea of having to wait any longer than you already had and this shirt had way too many buttons.

He did take a moment to stare you down when he came back, to appreciate your nakedness, and despite imagining showing yourself to him many times before, you felt a little self-conscious with his eyes just piercing through you like that: you didn’t cover yourself, ignoring a slight instinct to do so, but you did wrap your arms over your stomach and cross your legs as you sat on his bed.

Waiting for him to say something— or, possibly, waiting for yourself to find some courage to speak— you were a little taken aback when he grabbed you and kissed you.  And you realized, as his lips moved with yours even harder, deeper, needier than before, that there was nothing else to say.

He climbed on top of you on that bed, laid you down on it gently, as his weight pressed you down into the mattress.  You could've sworn you heard him growl when he rocked his hips against yours, a firm bulge in his jeans pressing right up to where heat had gathered between your legs.

Fingers weaving in his hair, you hummed as you did all you could to keep him close, as if he might just disappear if you didn’t hold him near to you.  But he didn’t seem like much of a flight risk, considering his tight grip on you— so tight it could leave marks, which you hoped it would.  You needed more than just memories of this.

“Tell me this is what you want,” he demanded, his voice breathless yet somehow not weak at all.  “Need to know you want this.”

“Fuck, Joel, f’course,” you promised— wasn’t it obvious?  It probably was.  But you could understand if he was still fighting back some guilt; you just wanted to do everything you could to help him forget about that.  “So bad,” you continued, “for so long…”

“Since I saved you?” he assumed, his teeth grazing your lip like a threat to bite down harder— a threat that made you throb from the inside out.

“Before,” you admitted, smiling sheepishly.  

“Didn’t even know me before,” he noticed, raising an eyebrow.

“Saw you around sometimes—” god, am I blushing as hard as it feels like I am? — “thought maybe you could… you know…”

Protect me.  Hold me.  Take care of me.  And fuck me like the world is ending even though it already did.

He smirked at you proudly, leaning in to kiss your neck this time, following some invisible trail that made you even more sensitive to the touch of his lips; after he kissed right under your ear, he whispered to you.

“Then just go ahead and take what you want, darlin’.”

After a shiver ran over you, so strong you thought it might never end, your hands shot down between you so you could get to work on his belt and fly; you felt his smile against your skin, then his teeth a moment later, as his hand rubbed the curve of your waist gently.

Both of you gasped when your fingers wrapped gently around his cock, for different reasons.  The skin was so smooth, it was hard to believe something this soft and silky was part of Joel— and it was hot, or maybe your fingers were just cold, but you hoped that didn't bother him.

He was already starting to move his hips just a bit, rocking into your touch, and you hummed when he suddenly grabbed your hand to force it to press firmer against himself.  "You thought about touchin' me like this before?" he asked in a voice that was breathy and low— you loved hearing the pleasure in his voice.

"Y-yeah," you admitted shyly; when he let your hand go, your touch wandered, your hands sliding up under the bottom of his shirt so you could feel the skin there— the firm muscle, the thin scars, the graying hairs that formed a trail down his stomach…

Grabbing your wrists, he pinned them down above your head, and you let out a joyful whine.  "Keep those there," he ordered, and you nodded as you watched him intently.

His hands traced down your body, making shivers run all over your skin; how could a man with so much strength touch you so delicately?

He purred as his fingers ran down to your panties, toying with the edge of the fabric before carefully pulling them down your legs.  You tried not to wiggle too much, but your hips were desperate for some friction, for some attention from him— they didn't have to wait long, though.  He groaned at the sight as he parted your legs, grabbing himself to rub his fat head through your folds.  "Fuck," he mumbled, your channel clenching on nothing as you saw how far apart his tip forced your swollen lips, "so wet for me already, bet I'll slide right in…"

Your back arched with a moan just imagining that, and he pushed your stomach down flat with his free hand so you wouldn't angle too far away from him, laying his body atop yours.  Though you tried to stay still, you couldn’t stop shaking as he lined himself up; it felt surreal, it felt hyperreal— his skin against yours was unlike anything you could’ve imagined.

You’d sort of wondered if he’d say something before he put it in, maybe a quick you ready? or even here it comes which would’ve been stupid but an appreciated warning nonetheless.  Instead, he just looked at your face carefully, and pushed inside.  It was sudden, sharp; your whole body tensed up and you sucked in a breath before biting your lip.

He only made it halfway in, struggling against how tight you were.  You were doing everything you could not to give away your pain, but he must've seen it in your expression.

"What's wrong?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.  "I'm hurting you…"

"No— Joel, please don't stop—"

You wrapped your legs around his hips to try to keep him inside, but he pulled out most of the way and looked down— and you winced when he saw the blood.  "Baby, you… are you— is this your—?  Fuck, why didn't you say something?"

"You wouldn't have done it with me if you knew it was my first time," you explained with a whimper.

"No, baby— I just would've taken my time with you, s'all," he sighed, "would've helped you— sweetie, it didn't need to hurt like that…"

Clutching tighter at his shirt, you pulled him down into a needy kiss. "Hurt me more, Joel," you pleaded into it with a breathy whisper, "do whatever you want to me.  I'm yours— that's all I want, just to be yours."

He kissed you back, slow but passionate; but, much to your dismay, he pulled out and sat up.

"No, Joel, I'm sorry," you whined, "I'm sorry— I didn't mean to lie, I'm so sorry, I promise I can be good!  M'gonna be really good for you!"

But he just shook his head, and you bit your quivering lip as tears ran down your temples.  He smiled, just a little.  "Such a crybaby," he scolded you softly.  "What am I gonna do with you, little girl?  You can't even keep yourself together."

He leaned down again, but he slid his knees down on the bed so he could position his face between your legs.  He kissed your inner thigh first, and you jumped because it tickled.

Then he held your hips, running his thumbs over your skin soothingly, and you tried not to squirm too much as he looked up at you with those dark eyes— much darker than before.  “You want me to taste you?” he asked, like it was your idea or something.

“Uh, yeah,” you mumbled sheepishly, and he actually laughed for a moment.  

“Yeah?” he repeated.  “Could you be a little more specific?”

Oh— he wants me to beg.  “Um— please?  Taste me, Joel…”

He smiled, but not like a haha funny smile or an oh that’s nice smile— a really dirty kind of smile, even though his teeth were actually in better condition than most out here.  “Okay, baby,” he agreed.

He was subtle about it at first, just giving gentle kisses all around; you felt… exposed, even more than you had with his face between your legs before.

“Is that alright?” he asked, his voice rougher than the last time you heard it.

“Y-yeah,” you choked, clearing your throat.  “Don’t… don’t stop, please…”

When he got back to it, he was much more aggressive— long, slow licks between your lips, sloppy kisses with his eyes shut tight; and you whined as you held on tighter to the sheets.  You didn’t realize how hard you were shaking until his grip on your thighs was bruisingly tight.  And as he held you down, he just dug in deeper: every time you thought he’d stop escalating the intensity of it all, he just did it more— he just did everything more— until you couldn’t control your moans and gasps anymore.

His tongue was the fucking devil; he slid it inside you and your eyes rolled back.  He sucked greedily on your clit until your hips bucked uncontrollably, moaning against your skin just enough that you could hear it over your own shameless cries.

"Joel, fuck, how are you—?  Oh god—"

"Mm?" he encouraged you to finish your thought without breaking away from you.

"How does that feel so good?" you sobbed.  "Oh my god— please don't stop, never stop, oh fuck!"

All he was doing was flicking his tongue over your bud, such a small interaction with a tiny little organ, and your whole body was shaking.  Reaching down and grabbing his hair, you didn't mean to tug on it so hard but you also didn't expect him to moan deeply when you did.  

His mouth moved a little higher, focusing on the bud you were sure had never been this swollen or this sensitive.  Doing so freed your opening, and one of his thick fingers prodded at it.  "Please," you panted, wanting any part of him to be inside you again.

He pushed it in, the roughness of his skin creating the perfect friction on your delicate walls.  You were waiting to feel his knuckle against you, but instead he only put it in maybe halfway, not very far at all.  It didn’t make much sense to you, until he started to rub one place just inside and a gasp instantly inflated your chest.

“Oh—” you choked, and he was licking harder on your clit at the same time that he added a second finger; you’d never felt anything like it before.  “Joel!” you squealed, hating how girlish it sounded but helpless to the control he had over your body with just two fingers and his tongue.

His rhythm wasn’t all that fast but it was relentless, the exact tempo you needed for that pleasure to build and build, toes curling and vision getting all spotty— you tried to look down at him sometimes, but your head wanted so badly to tilt back and let everything go black.

“I— oh, fuck— I’m gonna— fuck, Joel!” you sobbed, grabbing on tighter to his hair; you took one glimpse at it, and when you saw the scattered silver hairs peeking out from between your fingers, it just made you even more overwhelmed.

He hummed and looked up at you, encouraging you— his fingers pumped faster and faster suddenly, and when it hit, you felt like your whole body was going numb.  It started where he was touching you, but then a moment later it was in your head, then it was just running all over and you were too weak to do anything but give into it.

Suddenly it became too much, and the hand that had been holding him down by his hair was suddenly pushing him away; you blinked away the spots in your vision to catch a glimpse of him with that beard soaked in you, but his fingers hadn’t stopped yet.  “Oh… ohhh my god…” you whined, breathing harder than you could ever remember breathing before, your head getting all dizzy and cloudy as he smirked up at you and continued fucking you with his hand.

Your hole was pulsing, flexing over and over, waves of slick leaking out until you could feel the puddle spreading under you.  Your cheeks burned with humiliation, even though he kept praising you as his fingers milked everything from your swollen spot.  "Good girl, good girl," he said over and over, "fuck, good job, soak the sheets, baby— soak my fingers, keep going…"

"Joel," you sobbed, desperate for some relief from the overwhelming sensation.  He didn't really stop, just slowed down a lot, but he kept twisting his fingers and rubbing that one place until your quivering body collapsed completely onto his mattress.  And then he went on for just a little bit longer after that.

Then he stopped.  When you thought you might fucking pass out.

He climbed up your body and brought his two soaked fingers to your slack lips.  

"You want a taste, too, baby?" he purred.

You dutifully opened your mouth and did your best to clean his fingers off, sucking and licking as he hummed a bit; his eyes got a little darker as he felt your tongue run all over his rough fingers.

"What do you think?" he prompted when he pulled his fingers away, and you swallowed as you made a little face.

"I dunno if I like it," you admitted nervously.  "Kinda sour."

"Really?  I think your pussy's fuckin' delicious."

Your face flushed, but you didn't say anything else because he was reaching down to hold his cock again— and your heart started racing.

"Ready to do this the right way?" he prompted, and you nodded eagerly.  "S'gonna feel so much better, now you're all ready for me.  Ready for something this big inside ya— but it might still sting at first, okay?  Just hold onto me tight."

That you did, tighter than you thought you could— apparently you were stronger than you realized, especially considering that orgasm nearly took you out a minute ago.  But you had to hold on that tight as he began to push that fat head inside you, stretching you so wide before he'd even gotten the ridge of it past your opening.  It didn't sting like before, or at least not as much, but it was still completely overwhelming.  You forgot to breathe until he was halfway in: you gasped out his name, reminding yourself he was inside you and above you and everywhere, everything.

"See how much— fuck— how much easier it is now?" he grunted, sliding into you slowly until his hips met yours.  "See how you're takin' all'a me?  God damn, still tight as hell, though."

You were delirious already, he hadn't even moved yet.  You didn't think it could get much better than his mouth on you, than coming because of him, but this?  This perfect stretch, this addictive friction, knowing he was completely inside you and that he liked how you felt?  This was ecstasy, bliss.  And he hadn't even fucking moved yet.

"Gonna have a hard time being gentle with you now," he admitted with a growl beside your ear.  "You've got one of those perfect little pussies that just needs to be fucked hard— suckin' me in, just beggin' for it rough and fast."

"Joel," you whined, "fuck me however you want, please… I can take it, I swear, I want you so bad…"

Still, when he moved, it was slow and patient.  Too goddamn slow.

"Fuck," you sobbed, back arching up off the bed as he carefully savored every detail of you.  "Fuck, Joel, I can't— I can't believe you're— I can't believe it's you.  I wanted you so much I couldn't fucking breathe."

He smiled at you, and leaned in to kiss your neck; you let out what could only be described as a joyful whimper.  “Wanted you too,” he finally admitted.  “Tried not to, you’re so young… jus’ couldn’t help it after a while.”

"Faster," you whined, "please, fuck, please please—"

"You are so goddamn spoiled, you know that?" Joel grunted— but then he did it, he fucked you even faster than you'd imagined.  His thrusts were still deep and long, but they came at you quicker than you could process and you nearly screamed.  

You were even more sensitive after he’d made you come the first time; it was just overwhelming, the feeling of him, and you felt like your mind had left your body— like your mind had left you entirely.

“Y’feel fuckin’ perfect, darlin’,” he praised lowly, kissing your neck with all the gentleness and patience his thrusts lacked.  “So good for me.”

Maybe it was pathetic, but being good for him felt fucking amazing— not just physically, obviously.  It felt like having a purpose; you’d never really felt that before.

You lost track of time; honestly, you lost track of everything.  Everything that wasn’t this had fallen away, and it was just you holding on for dear life as Joel wrecked you all over again with every motion.  "Hear that?  How wet you are for me?" he groaned, and yes, there was a squishy-wet sound that filled the room with each thrust.  You tried to answer him, say something witty about how he made you that wet so many times, but only moans came when you opened your mouth.  "I asked you a question," he reminded you.  "Can you fuckin' hear it?"

Whimpering, you could only bite your lip and nod.

"Oh," he smiled, "I see— you get stupid with cock in you, huh?  Get fucked right and that silly brain just turns off?"

You nodded again— wasn’t much else for you to do.

"Just gonna be a dumb whore for me now?" he asked.  "Just kidding, I know you already were."

“Fuck— Joel—” you choked.

"No no, it's okay— it's good,” he soothed you, kissing a tear from your temple that you hadn’t even realized was there.  “You don't need to think.  I don't need you to think.  You can just be my fucktoy, okay?  You can just be my slut.  Say it."

"I-I'm your slut, Joel…"

He hummed appreciatively; your moan caught in your throat, and you tried to hide your face in his shoulder— you couldn’t believe he was still dressed, for all you knew he still had his boots on, and meanwhile you were stripped of everything.  Not just your clothes: you were stripped of all pretense (didn’t need it) and dignity (didn’t want it).  You’d thought of yourself as his for quite some time now, but now that he’d really made you his, it was more than you could’ve imagined.

When you came with him inside you, it wasn’t like how it was before— definitely similar, obviously the same thing at the core of it, but very different.  Before it was so… sudden, like a firework going off and then glittering into darkness (at least, that was how you understood fireworks to be, you’d only ever had them explained to you).  This was more like a deep pressure that just built and built and built, and then at some point you’d crossed that threshold and you were there but it didn’t go away, it just stayed at the peak while he kept moving inside you.

He grunted as your walls beared down on him, watching the tears of ecstasy stream down your face.  “Tryin’ to milk my cock, huh?” he accused with a snarl to his tone.  “S’that what you want?”

You weren’t really paying attention, you couldn’t while he was fucking you like that.  Digging your fingers into his shoulders through the flannel shirt, you just whimpered and nodded.

“S’workin’, baby,” he smiled, “little pussy’s got me so tight— is it a little too much, honey?  You’re cryin’...”

“I— I always cry,” you sniffled.

“M’not gonna make you take too much more,” he promised, “doin’ so good honey— gonna let you rest soon—”

“No, d-don’t stop,” you begged, and he laughed a little.

“I’m close,” he explained, and even though that should’ve been obvious, it made you feel better.  “Normally takes me a little longer, but… never had a pussy like this.”

That was probably just flattery, but you were happy to believe it.  Happy enough to just lay back and let that pleasure wash over you, but of course, he expected more of you than that.

"Tell me where I can come," he ordered.  

"Fuck, Joel— anywhere you want, anywhere," you pleaded, struggling to keep your train of thought but desperate to appease him as best you could.

"Inside you?" he pressed.

"Yeah, fuck, anywhere," you insisted.

"I bet that's what you want— you want it inside.  You want this cunt full and dripping."

“Fuck— yeah,” you agreed, “s’what I want— please, please—”

“Shh, don’t need to beg,” he assured sweetly, kissing your neck again— burying his face in the crook of your shoulder, until his panting breaths echoed on your skin.  “Don’t need to beg, darlin’, gonna fill you nice and deep—”

“Please,” you said again, ignoring his assurances.

“Just like you need it—”

“Please, Joel— love you so much,” you sobbed, your thighs starting to go a little numb where his jeans were rubbing against them and your clit getting sore from the way he stayed deep inside and grinded himself against you.

“I know,” he promised again, “jus’ say it one more time.”

“I love you, Joel,” you cried, and it was over somewhat suddenly: he stayed still, and you could feel his grip on you tighten, and you heard that sound that was like a groan and a sigh at the same time.  You’d hoped you’d be able to really feel it inside you, the warmth of his come, but everything was so hot that it was all the same— what you did feel was full, even more than you had just from his cock in you, and it was enough to make you clutch at his shoulders again despite having almost no energy left in you.

Though he stayed inside for a little while after, he did eventually have to pull out; you were too exhausted to even think about trying to close your legs when he stared down at you— at his come leaking slowly from your hole.

You knew there would need to be a conversation soon about what this all meant— what should happen now with the business, with your relationship, even just what should happen tomorrow morning since you’d both given in to instinct rather than take the safer route and have Joel pull out…

But that would have to wait; you still couldn’t think straight, you couldn’t think about anything but him in fact.

Thankfully, Joel was just fine with the silence.  He just held you, let you wander between sleep and wakefulness, and wiped that last stray tear away from your face.

“I’m sorry I keep crying,” you offered quietly, breaking a long silence.

“I don’t mind,” he promised.

A Future Together - Ch. 1

Pairing:  Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: A re-telling of the morning of September 26, 2003 with Joel in a relationship. 

Warnings: Fluff, smut (unprotected p in v), dirty talk, Joel being teased by the ladies in his life

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

A sleepy hum sounds from Joel when you shift under his arm that’s thrown over your waist.  Facing him now, you see his eyes remain closed, the ends of his hair moving from the fan pointed at you both.

Slipping your arm under his, you cuddle closer to his chest, pecking a kiss to his scruffy chin, “Yeah, keep pretending you’re asleep…,” you quietly tease before leaving another kiss at the corner of his mouth.

Nothing but his lips move, “Wish I was still asleep. You always got to wake up before the damn alarm.”

“I know, I’m the worst,” you grin, his grumpy words meaning nothing to you.  Nuzzling your nose against his jaw, “Don’t know why you keep me around.”

“I don’t know why either,” he grumbles, but you watch that dimple dip into his cheek as a fond grin forms at his lips.  The second you throw him a “Hey!” and a poke to his ribs, his eyes open and a big smile now greets you followed by the warmth of his chuckles.  

Continuar lendo

Could you make a joel x reader smut where reader is picked up by Joel & Tess on a hunt one day and has been staying with them. After a while Tess notices Joel’s attraction to reader and gets jealous. Maybe reader & Tess get into a fight or Joel & Tess but either way it ends with reader underneath Joel😩Bonus points for age gap/innocence and dom!Joel

Heyyyy! Thank you so much for this ask, and I’m so sorry for the delay! Things have been crazy lately, I’m trying to get back into writing little by little :) Because this was getting a little long, I decided to turn it into two parts ♡ enjoy!

Useless Part 1

Pairing: Joel Miller x Innocent!Reader

Summary: You were useless compared to what Joel and Tess could do. You were never allowed to sneak out of the QZ with them on supply runs, or even go with them to any dropoffs that were happening in the QZ. You argued a few times with Tess about it, but the moment Joel spoke up and told you you weren’t going, you’d drop the issue. You still didn’t know why they kept you around.

You weren’t supposed to be alive. Death had tried to come for you a long time ago, but unfortunately his plans were thwarted by a man named Joel Miller.

You don’t really ever remember having a home before now—or, not a traditional one, at least. The group you had previously been a part of was nomadic so you’d always been moving around and never stayed in the same place for more than a few weeks. You guys hadn’t had a specific destination in mind, you’d just sort of…wandered. It was pointless, and definitely stupid, but moving felt better than doing nothing. Part of you had still longed for some sort of stability, for some sort of permanence. At night you dreamt of a world where you’d have a garden with strawberries and carrots and a peach tree. Your house would have a wraparound porch. You’d paint your window shutters blue.

But that wasn’t possible in the world you lived in, so you always pushed those thoughts away and kept going.

Until that day.

Your group of wanderers had been staying in the abandoned city for about a week when the raiders came. It had been a quick job in the middle of the night—they’d killed half of your numbers before you’d even been fully awake. When lucidity had breached the wall of sleep in your mind, you grabbed your backpack and ran like a coward.

You hadn’t even realized you’d been shot until you’d gotten far enough away where you felt like you could breathe again and the adrenaline wore off. The bullet had lodged itself in your upper arm and within days it was a sweltering mess of infection. You’d taken refuge at the top of an old hotel and waited to die.

You didn’t really remember what had happened next, which was probably because of the delirium brought on by the fever. All you knew was that one day you were slouched against the peeling wallpaper, half-conscious, when you heard the voices. They’d been hushed, urgent, whispering back and forth to one another, and a short time later you were being lifted. Your head lolled against the man’s solid chest and you were out.

You’d woken up in Joel’s apartment a few days later, bullet wound cleaned and stitched up.

That had been two years ago.

“No.”

“Awe, please?”

“No, absolutely not.”

“But I can help!”

“By doing what? Batting your lashes at any Clickers we come across?”

You huffed as you stared at Tess across the counter of your guys’ tiny kitchen. “I know how to use a gun.”

“Not while aiming at a moving target, you don’t.” Tess’ face was stonelike, lined with crevices around her eyes like carvings in marble. “You’re not coming. This supply run is a two-person job.”

“But—”

A deep voice from the corner of the room muttered your name. You turned to meet Joel’s gaze—he was sitting at the small wooden dining table staring at his hands, all callused from the hard labor required to survive in this new world. He looked up and the message in his eyes was clear: Leave it alone.

You looked down obediently and didn’t further the now-finished argument. You weren’t sure it had even really started.

When Joel and Tess allowed you to stay with them, you’d been surprised. You had expected for them to hand you over to FEDRA or kick you out after you were healed, or something of the sort. You didn’t expect for them to keep you around.

You still didn’t know why they did. You were useless compared to what Joel and Tess could do. You were never allowed to sneak out of the QZ with them on supply runs, or even go with them to any dropoffs that were happening in the QZ. You argued a few times with Tess about it, but the moment Joel spoke up and told you you weren’t going, you’d drop the issue.

That was another thing. Joel. That first week you’d been awake and recovering you had sort of had a permanent starry-eyed look to you and chastised yourself each time you got nervous around him, which was always. You’d only speak when spoken to, and when you did it was in a soft voice that didn’t match your roughed-up appearance. You’d thought that it would go away, that the only reason you were like this was because he’d been the one who had saved you. You’d thought the silly crush would have worn off eventually.

Oh how very wrong you were.

You were better about it now—you’d gotten more used to things. You didn’t talk quite so quiet anymore. You didn’t jump a little everytime he entered the room.

But your feelings lingered. There was still something that changed in you when you were around Joel. You couldn’t help but want to do what he said even if you disagreed with him sometimes. You weren’t sure why. Something about him appealed to a smaller, more primal part of your brain, filling you with need. You couldn’t count the number of times you had been in bed late at night with your knuckle in your mouth as you pleasured yourself thinking about him.

It wasn’t just a physical need, though. Sure, he was handsome with his salt-and-pepper hair, his thick biceps, his strong jaw. You remembered how he’d carried you out of the city in his unyielding arms with you resting against his solid torso. He’d lifted you so easily. A part of you ached to be held again, to be cared for.

You tried not to think about things like that. You knew he saw you as nothing more than a stupid, naive little girl.

“Glad we got that settled. Again,” Tess was saying, voice dripping with annoyance. She slid her gun into the waistband of her pants and looked at Joel. “Ready?”

He nodded and stood, then looked at you. “We’ll be back in about two days. Cover for us. Stay out of trouble. Don’t sign up for any labor jobs while we’re gone—”

“—and don’t be stupid,” you finished, knowing Joel’s little spiel by heart now. “I know.”

A muscle in his jaw feathered. “And make sure you eat while we’re gone.”

“Yes sir.”

You’d meant it as a joke—maybe even a bitter one—but then something flickered in Joel’s eyes and he stood there for a moment before nodding and heading out the door. Tess gave you a sideways glance before following. She shut the door behind her.

And then you were alone.

Your time in solitude wasn’t much different from you you lived when Tess and Joel were there. You organized your meager pantry. You took inventory of your supplies so you know what Joel and Tess took and so you could log whatever they brought back. You cleaned the gun Joel hadn’t taken.

The only thing you didn’t do was sign up for any of the jobs FEDRA had listed for people to uptake to earn ration cards. Joel didn’t like you doing things like that when he wasn’t around. Besides, he was always the one who picked for you, who said what you couldn’t and couldn’t do—he mostly had you write your name down for the more boring jobs like helping with the QZ’s main food supply inventory or distribution. You couldn’t remember Joel ever signing you up for any hard labor jobs.

Usually you might have been insulted that your role was essentially a glorified maid, but Joel had claimed your part was necessary. That was enough for you.

Currently you were attempting to slice a half-frozen loaf of bread you’d gotten from today’s ration pickup. FEDRA always froze rations when they could so that the food didn’t go bad as quickly, but usually by the time you were ready to use them they’d already been sitting in the pantry for a few days so they could defrost. However, you were completely out of bread now and you wanted a sandwich for dinner tonight, so you thought you’d try and slice off a couple pieces so they’d unfreeze quicker.

You wondered if you should slice off more so that dinner could be ready for Joel when he got back. And Tess, you quickly added in your mind. You weren’t sure exactly when they were going to return, but maybe it would be nice to have the bread thawed at least a little more by the time—

The knife slipped.

You dropped it with a yelp and it clattered to the floor right as ruby red blood started to bead on your skin where the blade had cut into you.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, you thought as tears pricked your eyes from the sting of it. You put pressure on it with a spare cloth and ran for the first aid cabinet, but hesitated when you saw the hydrogen peroxide.

You really did not want to deal with the extra pain that would bring right now, so you decided to just clean the cut with water and bandage it. It wasn’t deep enough you’d need stitches, but the knife had gotten you pretty good still.

A sigh escaped your lips. Tess was right. If you couldn’t even cut bread without hurting yourself, how were you ever supposed to be competent enough to use a gun against a Clicker correctly?

“—s half your age, Joel!”

You blinked your eyes open, brow creased in disorientation. Was that Tess’ voice? You yawned and looked out the window of your room to see that it was still dark outside, though the sky was beginning to lighten with the promise of dawn.

“—s not like that.”

Joel’s voice had you wake up a little bit more. You removed the blanket from where it had been twisted around your legs and sat up in bed, now lucid enough to determine that Joel and Tess were out in the living room. When had they gotten back?

“Then tell me what it’s like.” Tess’ voice was like a blade to a whetstone.

Silence.

A scoff, then Tess continued. “Seriously? You’re not even going to try to defend yourself?”

“Can’t defend myself if I’ve done nothing wrong.” Joel’s words were muttered but intense. You could almost picture the muscle feathering in his jaw.

“Fine.” The single word was sharp. “I can’t deal with this anymore, Joel. Come find me when you’re ready to act like an adult.”

The sound of the front door opening and then slamming echoed even in the back room you were in.

You sat there for a few moments but didn’t hear any movement from Joel—not even a sigh or anything—so you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and crossed to peek out into the living room.

Joel was sitting on the couch, legs spread and arms folded as he stared off into space ahead of him, his jaw working ever so slightly. His backpack was on the floor near the couch, though Tess’ wasn’t. She must have taken it with her to…wherever she’d gone.

Your courage waned and you almost turned to head back into the room, but Joel’s head moved and his eyes fell on you, something changing in his expression.

“Hey,” he said. He cleared his throat and sat up a bit. “Didn’t think you’d be awake already.”

Caught, you stepped into the room fully and gave a shrug. “I’m a light sleeper.” But then, who wasn’t these days?

Your words caused an uncomfortable silence to stretch between you both as you realized what it meant. He knew that you’d heard him and Tess, and you knew he knew.

“Where did Tess go?” Your voice was unsure.

“I don’t know.”

“Is she coming back?”

Joel sighed. “I don’t know. I…” He trailed off as his eyes caught on something near your hip. “What’s that?”

“What’s…?” You followed his gaze to the white bandage on your hand and you quickly hid it behind your back. “Oh it’s nothing, I was just being stupid—“

He stood. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, I just…“ You left your sentence unfinished as he walked over to you and lifted your hand delicately in his large one, examining the bandage.

“You’re bleeding.”

You looked down to see a red spot seeping through. “Huh,” you said stupidly.

“Come on.” Without asking he gently took your wrist to pull you along to the kitchen. The tile was cold on your bare feet.

“Hop up on the counter.”

You frowned in confusion. “What are you—”

Joel’s hands landed on your ribcage and then he was lifting you up and back to sit you on the laminate. A gasp of surprise left your lips; that seemed to reach something inside Joel and he dropped his arms back to his sides. “Sorry,” he muttered, turning to open a cabinet near your head and extract the white box with a red cross on it.

“S’fine,” you whispered. You watched as he flipped the lid open and rummaged around.

“You clean it?”

“Yes.”

He looked at you. “With?”

“With water,” you mumbled. “Really, it’s fine. It’s not that—”

Your heart fell as he pulled the brown square bottle out and set it on the counter along with some more bandages. You were about to move to begin tending to your cut, but to your surprise Joel beat you to it. He lifted your wrist and started to peel back the bandage.

He was standing between your slightly-open legs, close enough so that he could work at a good angle. He was close enough where the scent of him invaded your senses and made you dizzy. This was probably the closest you’d ever been to him….ever.

Apart from when he’d carried you, of course, but you’d been half-unconscious at that point so you didn’t count it much.

“‘S gonna sting a bit,” he muttered. The cold press of the hydrogen peroxide-soaked cloth made you gasp. It bubbled and fizzed and bit into your skin, burrowing deep down into the cut.

You tried to blink your tears away discreetly, but one fell and streaked down your cheek. To your surprise, Joel didn’t say anything. All he did was hand a cloth to you without looking up from his work.

You let out a small surprised chuckle. “Thanks. Sorry.” You took the cloth with your free hand and dabbed at your eyes.

“Don’t be sorry,” was all Joel said.

Despite what he said, you went on, voice slightly bitter. “Doubt Tess would appreciate seeing me cry over—”

“Don’t listen to what Tess says.” The tone in Joel’s voice signaled that the topic was dropped. He finished bandaging you, then stepped back and turned, headed for his room. “I’m gonna get some rest.”

And there he left you, sitting on the countertop with a newly-mended cut, utterly perplexed.

——

Stay tuned for Part 2!

Dare I say Joel Miller

Holding your hand and telling you how well you’re taking it while every inch is inside you

Oh, 10000000000% ♡

joel miller coded?

Oh my good God your writing is absolutely fabulousssss 🤤 The way you write about Joel and his baby girl is sending me into orbit!!! Genuinely I cannot wait to read more of your work 😍 Do you think that you would ever do one where Joel comforts his baby if she got jealous? There’s a few different ways this could go but the idea of him comforting his sweet girl when she’s upset over something like seeing another woman in Jackson hit on him or something makes me think terrible, nsfw thoughts 😆🩷🎀

This was so fun to write, thank you for the ask anon! Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: When you see a woman making a move on Joel and storm out in a flurry of tears, Joel realizes exactly how much he’s been neglecting his baby. He’s determined to make it up to you.

Notes: Smut, oral (f receiving), dom!joel, sub!reader, praise, nicknames (sweetheart, baby, babygirl, little girl, honey, darling, any fanfic-typical nickname Joel has for reader), jealous!reader, oblivious!joel (sorta), semi-public, implied age gap

You were fuming.

It was Tommy’s birthday and Maria had decided to invite the entire town of Jackson to the Tipsy Bison that night to celebrate. The bar was lively with the hum of chatter and small talk, the smell of whiskey and beer curling in the air, paper lanterns hung in a zig-zag pattern across the ceiling.

Normally you would have loved to go out like this. It gave you an excuse to dress up all pretty and do your makeup, maybe even get Joel to abandon his stone-faced stoic facade and go dancing with you after he’d had a couple drinks.

Except for the fact that the night had gotten off to a horrible start.

The past few weeks Joel had been busy. Very busy. Which you didn’t blame him for, of course—he was one of the town’s strongest working men and the people needed him to help with patrol. But recently a worker at the Bison had sprained his ankle and Seth had asked Joel to help cover him while he healed, which meant that now Joel was gone during the day for patrol and several nights during the week while he fixed barstools or whatever it was Seth had him working on.

The nights he actually was home, he usually went straight to bed with you after placing a kiss to your lips and gave a murmured, “Goodnight.” You couldn’t even remember the last time he’d touched you, really touched you.

And you knew that Joel was a good man, that the reason he was so exhausted all the time now was because he was doing work for the community.

It didn’t stop his girl from getting a little needy and missing him.

Tonight you had taken advantage of the outing. You’d made sure to do your makeup immaculately, with your lips glossed and eyes lined to make them look all doe-like and pretty, how Joel liked them. You’d curled your hair and pinned the top part of it back in a half-updo with a white satin bow. You’d even worn a new dress that you’d traded for a couple days before. It was baby pink, hugging your bust and waist before flaring out the smallest bit around your hips. The short hem paired with your white heels showed off your legs very nicely.

You’d thought that maybe if you put enough effort into your appearance tonight, Joel would want to touch you no matter how tired he was.

Unfortunately, so much self-grooming had caused you and Joel to be a little late, which meant rushing out the door and speed-walking over to the Bison so you two weren’t more tardy than you already were, which meant there wasn’t time for Joel to appreciate his princess in her pretty dress.

Now that you guys were here at the bar, he was hardly looking at you. His large hand was still holding yours so you wouldn’t get lost in the crowd, but he hadn’t even said anything about how you looked tonight. Did he even care? It made you want to whine and cry or stamp your little heeled foot against the floor until he paid attention to you.

But you didn’t. You wanted to be his good girl…and you didn’t want to ruin Tommy’s birthday, either, by making a scene.

Joel kept craning his neck around to look for his brother, and when he found Tommy and Maria standing at the bar, he guided you over with him with a hand on the small of your back.

“Joel!” Tommy exclaimed, expression bright as he embraced his brother—overly bright. It was clear he’d already had a few glasses.

Joel slapped Tommy on the back. “Happy Birthday.”

“Happy Birthday, Tommy,” you said softly right as Maria was thanking the both of you for coming.

“What did you get me?” Tommy asked his brother.

Joel grunted as he put his hand back on your waist. “Right to the point, aren’t you?”

“A book? A shirt? A razor? I’ve been needin’ a new one of those, mine broke just yesterday—“

“Boots,” Joel said. “Traded for ‘em last week. They’re back at the house.”

Tommy grinned. “Awe, now you’ve just ruined the surprise.”

Joel rolled his eyes. “Tommy—“

“Oh, that reminds me! There’s somethin’ I need to show you real quick.” Tommy turned to you. “Mind if I borrow him for a few?”

You frowned. “Well—“

Without waiting for a response Tommy dragged Joel away, heading for some unseen destination across the bar. You couldn’t tell where they were going from your position in the crowd. You tried not to wilt.

A moment later Maria handed you a drink. “You look nice,” she commented.

“At least someone noticed,” you grumbled, taking a sip. The alcohol burned your throat.

“Joel giving you trouble?”

You shrugged.

Maria waited for you to elaborate. When you didn’t, she pressed. “I was going to go sit with some friends over there.” She gestured to her right somewhere. “Want to join?”

You sighed, then shook your head. “I don’t think so. Thank you Maria, but I don’t want my mood to infect your guys’.”

“Well…alright. If you’re sure.” And with that, she left you to your own devices.

It had been hours. Or…maybe a half hour. Forty five minutes? You weren’t sure. Enough time for you to have made a home for yourself on one of the barstools with several now-empty liquor glasses in front of you.

And Joel still wasn’t back.

Your toes were starting to go numb in your tight shoes even just sitting there, so you huffed and got to your feet—you only swayed a little. You were determined to find Joel and make him dance with you.

You weaved in and out of the crowd as you searched. Where had Tommy taken Joel? Was it….this way? That way? You couldn’t think very clearly right now. How many glasses had you….?

You finally spotted the back of Joel’s head through the throng of partygoers. Your eyes lit up and you started to move in that direction, ready to tug on Joel’s hand and stand on your tiptoes for a kiss. Why had you even been upset again?

You squirmed between two people to move closer and—

There was a woman beside Joel. She had honey brown hair and keen, wise eyes. She was older than you—much older. Closer to Joel’s age. Her name was Sharon…Shannon…something?

You froze as she laughed at something someone said and put a hand on Joel’s arm.

Your eyes went wide and you didn’t know whether you wanted to scream or start crying. Joel suddenly turned his head and met your gaze.

Your body decided for you. Tears pooled on your lashes and you turned to duck out of the bar before you made even more of a fool of yourself.

The crisp, cool night air greeted you as you escaped the Tipsy Bison’s warmth. You sniffled and kept walking, not even really sure where you were going.

“Darlin’?” Joel’s voice reached you and you heard footsteps from behind.

You sped up.

But Joel was Joel, and so he quickly caught up to you with his long legs. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Not now, Joel.”

“Hey.” He grabbed you and turned you around, his grip gentle but firm. “Sweetheart, what happened?”

“Get offa me,” you protested, trying to push away.

“What’re you…” He paused. “Are you drunk?”

“No,” you whined. You broke out of his grip and kept walking, turning around the corner of the Bison and walking around the back of the building. “Leave me alone.”

“Baby.”

At his tone you stopped. Even though you were embarrassed and upset and didn’t want to see his face, a small part of you still wanted to be obedient.

He came around your front and lifted your chin so you were looking up at him. His stern gaze melted away and his eyes softened. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

Your bottom lip quivered. “What’s wrong?” You sniffled and took a step back. His hand fell away.

“What’s wrong is that you don’t pay attention to me anymore. You work all day and all night and it feels like you hardly have time for me now. I even got all dressed up tonight for you, wore a new dress and everything, a-and you didn’t say anything, didn’t even look—“

You blinked and more tears ran down your face. “And now I jus’ saw Sharon or Shannon or whoever that woman was flirting with you, and you didn’t do anything—”

You cut off as your face crumpled. You looked down, shivering from the cold.

“I know she’s older and…and probably smarter, and she—”

“Whoa, whoa, sweetheart.” Joel tenderly gripped your upper arms, ducking his head to try and get you to meet your gaze. “What…what are you thinkin’? You think she could ever compare to my babygirl?”

You opened your mouth to respond but he prattled on before you had the chance. “The moment she touched me I pulled away. I don’t know if you didn’t see or what, but…” He shook his head. “Baby, I only have eyes for you. You know that.”

He wiped your tears with his thumbs. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around more often. It’s just until Seth’s friend heals up that I’ll be gone. I should be out of bar duty by next week.”

“And what about tonight?” you whined.

At that, Joel smiled. “You really think I didn’t notice how pretty you looked, sweet girl? I was trying not to get a hard on in the middle of Tommy’s party.”

You almost smiled. Almost. But you were still mad about Shannon, and you still felt needy and lonely and you were pretty sure you were way more than tipsy and you still kind of felt like punching Joel in his handsome face a little bit.

He leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “So sorry that I made my baby feel alone….and needy…and neglected…” He punctuated each word with a kiss to a different part of your face—your cheek, your nose, your lips.

Now that you were alone, Joel’s eyes roved over your body shamelessly. “Look at you….” he cooed. “So beautiful.” His hands fell to your waist. “And this pretty new dress.” His eyes looked lower, down to your feet, and he grinned. “Your shoes match your bow. You said you dressed up just for me?”

You sniffed and nodded. “M’still a little mad at you.”

“I know, pretty girl.” He kissed your jaw. “Why don’t you let me make it up to you?”

That sobered you up real quick. “Wh….here?”

“Why not?” Joel pressed your back to the wall of the building. “No one’s around.”

“But someone could—”

“Shhh.” He kissed lower this time, at the skin beneath your jaw. “Here’s what’s going to happen.” He pressed a kiss lower. “I’m going to make my little girl feel good right here and now so she doesn’t have to wait another minute.” Another kiss. “After that I’m gonna carry her back to our bed….” Another. “And there I’m gonna make love to her until she gets absolutely sick of it.”

You squirmed as his beard dragged along your skin the lower and lower he kissed, lips now at your collarbone. “I-I don’t know if I’d ever get sick of it….”

He nipped at your skin and you gasped. “Then you had better have enough energy to be up all night, sweetheart.”

Joel kissed down the center of your clavicle, the middle of your breasts, down your tummy over your dress….soon he was kneeling before you, looking up to meet your gaze with those dark brown eyes of his.

“Joel—” you said, still a bit uncertain.

“Lean back against the wall, babygirl.”

You hesitated, but obeyed. Any complaints or protests you had against the situation dissolved as soon as Joel lifted one of your legs and pressed a kiss to the inside of your ankle.

His lips traveled upward. He kissed along your calf….the inside of your knee…your thigh….soon he pressed the skirt of your dress up to your waist.

He paused.

Then:

“Oh, sweetheart.” It was nearly a groan. His eyes flicked up to yours. “No panties?”

You smiled shyly. The truth was you’d forgotten almost entirely about that—it had been a quick last minute decision to forego wearing anything beneath your dress, but seeing his eyes dark with lust now….you definitely did not regret it.

“I’m a little glad I didn’t have time to look you over properly before coming here,” he murmured, lips skimming your hip bone. “If I knew you weren’t wearin’ anything under this we would have never left the house.”

You could feel his breath on your inner thigh now as he moved his head and you whimpered. “Joel.”

“Shhh, no whining honey, ‘less it’s about how good it feels.” He placed a kiss right above the patch of skin above your bud. “Just let that pretty head of yours empty—I’ll take care of you.”

Whatever you were about to say in response left your head as Joel hiked your leg over his shoulder and started to lick at your clit.

You gasped and one of your hands threaded through his salt and pepper curls to steady yourself. His tongue flicked against your swollen, needy button teasingly. Your lower belly simmered with the heat of crackling coals.

Joel’s large hand found purchase on your hip and he squeezed in response to each noise that escaped you. He was soon embracing you with his full mouth, tongue licking between your folds, at your bud, into you. It was as if he was everywhere, helping himself to your taste and enjoying every bit of it.

“Oh,” you sighed, pushing your hips into his mouth involuntarily and his head bobbed in time with his motions.

Each flick, each twist of his tongue had you nearly writhing, and you were pretty sure it was only Joel’s hand on your hip keeping you from collapsing.

“Joel, I—it’s—oh please, I can’t—” You were babbling mindlessly, head empty, unsure of what you were even really saying.

Joel just chuckled against you, the vibrations running through your core making you gasp.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he murmured as he sucked and licked at your wetness. “‘S like you were made for me—just keep rockin’ your hips—oh, good girl.”

He lapped at you as you let out a high-pitched whine. You were there, right there, with his nose nudging at your clit and his warm wet tongue pushing into you and he was shaking his head and oh—

You bit your knuckle to muffle your moan as you came, your folds drenched, your lower belly warm, your legs shaking, your clit tingling.

“That’s it, that’s it.” Joel kept murmuring praises as you came down from your high, hips squirming from oversensitivity.

He placed soft and slow kisses on your right hip before rising and gripping your waist. Your legs nearly buckled.

Joel chuckled and caught you as you stumbled a bit, sweeping you up in his arms, the ease in which he lifted you making your belly swoop.

He pressed his lips to your hairline in an achingly sweet kiss. “How’s my girl feeling now?”

You let out a happy hum and rested your head on his shoulder. “Better.”

“Good.” You could hear the smile in his voice as he started to walk, carrying you like you were a princess. You supposed that you were, in a sort of way. You were his.

“Don’t go fallin’ asleep yet, babygirl.”

You hadn’t even realized that you’d been drifting off until he had said something. It wasn’t your fault. The gentle sway of him walking with you had rocked you to sleep…

“Sorry.” You yawned.

“I’m the one who’s sorry, honey,” he said. He held you closer. “And you gotta stay awake with me. I got a lot more I wanna do to apologize to my princess.”

The low voice he used made your heart flutter.

You were in for a very long night.

Hello, i really like everything you write about Joel, i am so in love with him😭💕

-

What if reader has been having some insecurities lately and Joel fcks her in front of a mirror, worshipping her and telling her how beautiful she is🎀💖

Here you go anon, hope you like it!

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: You start pulling away from Joel because you’re having doubts about yourself. Joel decides to do something about it.

Notes: smut, p in v, Joel pulls out, praise, body worship, reader has body dysmorphia, reader has insecurities, soft!Joel, dom!Joel, sub!reader, mirror sex

A/n: Yes, I put a Pride and Prejudice reference in there (iykyk 😘)

“Give yourself a compliment.”

The past few weeks, you had been having some…doubts, to say the least. Before, it had been just you and Joel fending for yourselves out in the woods, traveling West. Just you and Joel against the world.

Then you found Jackson.

Oh, what a haven it was. Even if Joel’s brother hadn’t been here, even if you knew nobody in town, you still would have convinced Joel to stay. They had hot water, heating, and goddamn coffee of all things? Yeah. You guys were sticking around.

Not only were you able to shower once a day, but your diet had also changed drastically. Instead of only eating a couple sticks of jerky and some crackers for dinner each day, you had the luxury of consuming steamed broccoli, roast pork, and such excellent boiled potatoes—it had been many years since you’d had such an exemplary vegetable. Now you always went to bed with a full belly.

The diet change was reflected in the way you looked. You could no longer see your ribs through your skin, and your thigh gap was gone. Your eyes looked less sunken, your cheekbones less protruding. Your hips were a little rounder, your tummy a little softer. And you knew that it was a good thing, that it meant you were getting over the malnourishment and becoming healthy again, that you were at a perfectly normal weight for your height—you knew that.

But a small part of your brain whispered otherwise. It didn’t matter if it was healthy or not, it didn’t matter if you had looked like a walking skeleton before, you were getting bigger. You started to wonder if it was getting harder for Joel to lift you during your activities in the bedroom. You started to wonder if he didn’t know what to do with each pound you gained, if he preferred you when you were smaller and lighter, even if you had only been skin and bones.

And so you started to pull away.

You still pleasured Joel, of course. You’d wake him up with your mouth on him, or kiss him while grinding on his bulge. But each time he tried to pull at your clothes to return the favor you’d shake your head and give him some lame excuse like I’m tired, or I promised Maria I’d go help her organize the inventory lists.

Eventually Joel had had enough. He sat you down and kept pushing and pushing, trying to know what was the matter. And oh…his callused hands cupping your face had been so gentle. His eyes had been so soft. You had confessed everything then and there through your tears.

Which brought you to now.

You were in the bathroom in just your bra and panties with Joel standing behind you, one hand gently lingering on the small of your back as you both faced the mirror.

“Give yourself a compliment,” Joel repeated.

Your brow creased and you shook your head. “I can’t,” you whispered.

Joel met your gaze in the mirror. “Come on, sweetheart. You—”

You shook your head again, tears blooming in your eyes.

Joel stood there for a few moments, his hand still stroking over the small of your back. Soon he spoke. “Well, I’ll start, then,” he said, his voice tender. “That alright with you, darlin’?”

He didn’t give you time to reply. He lifted your hand to his lips and pressed an achingly soft kiss to the back of it. “I love your hands,” he whispered. “Look at ‘em—so small, so soft. I like it when you use ‘em to run through my hair, or when I hold your hand as we walk through town.”

He moved his hand up to gently hold your chin. “And your face—my gorgeous girl. And those eyes… I love when you let me hold your cheek as I kiss those soft lips…”

Joel kissed the sensitive patch of skin beneath your jaw and your breath hitched. You could feel his smile against you as he moved down, kissing along your neck to your shoulder. His hands went to your hips and squeezed.

You hesitated, doubt filling you. “Joel—”

“Ah, I’m not done yet.” He kneaded at the softness on your hips and thighs. “Oh…I love this piece of you, honey…grabbin’ onto these hips every time I wanna tell everyone you’re mine, or when I’m drivin’ into you in the bedroom.”

Your breath caught at that, cheeks flushing the same color as the strawberries that Maria was starting to grow for the town.

Joel chuckled and before you knew it your bra was unhooked and tossed across the room, but that didn’t matter because the moment it was gone Joel’s hands were there. You gasped again as he started to gently squeeze, thumbs flicking over the peaks.

“And these,” he went on, voice dropping lower. “You’re so soft, babygirl, ‘specially these pretty tits. Just wanna kiss ‘em and bite ‘em all day every day.” He pinched one of your nipples and you whimpered. You could feel his bulge pressing into you from behind.

One of his hands stayed working on your breast as the other flattened and smoothed down the front of your torso. “And this pretty tummy…makes me so happy to see you like this, baby. Full of food every night. It means I’m doin’ my job providin’ for you.”

Joel’s relentless touching was really getting to you. You were damp between your legs by now surely.

“And here…” Joel slid his hand past the waistband of your panties and you whimpered as his fingers stroked along your wetness. He let out a breath that was nearly a groan. “I love feelin’ you here, sweetheart. Feelin’ you clench around me as you finish, gettin’ that hazy look in your eyes…”

He pushed two fingers into you and you whined, arching your back against him. “Joel—”

“Shh,” he whispered. He mouthed at your neck and curled his fingers to stroke along your front wall. “Look at you, darlin’.” When you were nice and ready, he retracted his fingers. You whimpered at the loss, but it soon turned into a gasp as he unzipped his pants and pushed his length into you.

You let out a soft moan and closed your eyes at the feeling. Oh…he was so big, so—

He nipped at your neck and your eyes flicked open with a gasp. “Eyes on yourself, pretty girl. Want you to see how gorgeous you are takin’ me.”

At that, hesitation won over arousal for a split second. “Joel, I don’t…”

He kissed the part of your neck he bit, his affection so tender it made your heart swell. “You trust me?”

You nodded.

“You can do this, baby. Watch. I’m gonna take care of you.”

You bit your lip, then nodded again.

Joel grinned. “Good girl,” he cooed. “Put your hands on the counter.”

You did as he asked. The white porcelain was cold against your palms, but one of Joel’s big hands came to rest atop one of yours. The other grabbed your hip.

Then he started to move.

You let out a moan as he dragged along your walls. It had been so long since you both had done this and he was filling you so well, making it hard to breath, hard to see, hard to think…

“Eyes open, baby.”

They had closed in your feeling of ecstasy and you hastily snapped them open. Sex with Joel was always erotic, but actually watching it happen in the mirror like this…

He reached down to thumb at your clit and you let out a soft whine. Joel chuckled. “Needy girl,” he murmured. He let out a groan into your neck. “So warm, darlin’.”

Joel thrust into you deeper and put a hand on your stomach. “Another thing I love,” he whispered, “is when I make it so you can feel me all the way up in this pretty tummy.”

You mewled at that. There was a white-hot fire in your lower belly and it ached and you didn’t know if you wanted the fans flamed or extinguished or—

“Look how pretty my babygirl looks when she’s takin’ me,” Joel murmured.

Your eyes were half-lidded in the mirror, breasts moving with every thrust up into you. There was a flush around your cheekbones and nose and your lips were softly parted as Joel took you.

“Mmm.”

“Oh?” Joel kept rubbing circles into your clit as your hips squirmed. “Was that an agreement, sweet girl?”

You hesitated. Your mind was too blissed out to think clearly. “I—“

“Does my pretty baby see how I see her now?” A particularly well-placed thrust from Joel had you keening. “How beautiful she is?”

You whined and rocked back against him. Something was building inside you, a tight coil right between your legs, and it was too hot, too hot, and you…you needed…

“Fall apart for me, sweetheart,” Joel breathed.

You did. You let out a high-pitched moan and your walls clenched around Joel’s length, causing him to grunt. Your head swam. Your vision fuzzed. You barely even registered Joel pulling out and his spend landing on the back of your thigh.

Your legs shook and you let out a pathetic whine. Joel was quick to scoop you into his arms. “I gotcha, babygirl,” he whispered, kissing your cheek as he carried you to the bedroom. “Gotta lay on your tummy so I can clean you up, yeah?”

You nodded and let him place you on the bed face down. Your entire body felt like it was melting.

Joel left for the bathroom and soon returned with a warm washcloth to gently wipe between your legs and at his spend on the back of your thigh. When he was done he took you into his arms.

Chest to chest, he smiled down at you and pushed hair back from your face. “Hi pretty girl.”

You smiled back. “Hi,” you whispered.

His thumb caressed your cheekbone for a moment. “I know your feelings about yourself aren’t going to disappear overnight and that’s okay, but…you think you can give yourself a compliment now?”

You blushed, then nodded. “I like it when you make my cheeks flush.” Your voice was small, shy.

“Yeah?” Joel’s eyes sparkled. “How come?”

“Because I think I…” You swallowed. “I think I look pretty like that.”

Joel grinned. “Yes you do, baby.” He held you close. “Yes…you most definitely do.”

An older man’s callused ones, preferably ♡

need strong hands around my throat right now

first of all I love your writing style 💔

second: can you make a drabble where Joel comforts reader during her cold or any kind of sickness, maybe even usual stomachache aand then they have soft cute gentle xex, and he whispers praises to her, soothing all of her aches, lyyy

- 🐿️

Awwe thank you for the kind words anon, I’m glad you like my work! Here you go!

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: You try to hide your sickness from Joel because you don’t want to stress him out. It doesn’t work.

Notes: Sick fic, praise kink, soft!dom!joel, sub!reader, sick!reader, reader is in her head a lot, unprotected p in v, reader is very much Joel’s baby, READER IS NOT PREGNANT SHE’S JUST NAUSEOUS

It was normal for you to be reserved. A little quieter than most, a little more soft. Joel knew you better than anybody, and he could tell when you’d slipped into your daydreams, just needing a few moments to drift off within your own head.

But this…this was different.

The day had started off as usual. You and Joel woke up together tangled in blankets, his strong arms holding you close. But the moment you blinked your bleary eyes awake you gave him a swift kiss and mumbled, “M’gonna go shower” before leaving him alone in bed.

Things only got stranger from there. That afternoon Joel was scheduled to leave for a short patrol with Tommy—lately there had been more Clicker sightings, so he and his brother had increased the amount of rotations needed per day. Joel didn’t want to leave you alone when he suspected something was wrong, but it was necessary for him to go if they wanted to keep Jackson a safe haven.

Normally when he was about to leave you’d get all teary-eyed and try to get as many kisses from him as you could before he took off. This time, however, you gave him a short smile and kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

That sent Joel’s suspicion through the roof. He had studied your face, searching for any indication there might be something off. Your eyes were a little droopy, but he also knew that the night before you’d been up late with him reading to you…

“Is everything okay, baby?” he had asked softly.

Something flickered in your eyes and a little v appeared between your brow as it creased in confusion. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know, I’m just a little worried about you.”

At that, you gave him an innocent smile. “I’m just tired, Joel. I’m okay.” You stood on your tiptoes to press your lips to his in a soft peck. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

Against his better judgement, he’d left. But that didn’t stop him from worrying about you all throughout patrol.

You felt absolutely awful.

In the morning you’d woken with quite possibly the worst stomach ache you’d ever experienced. You thought a shower might make you feel better, that your body was just disagreeing with something you’d eaten the day before.

It got worse. It seemed that anything you did made the nausea flare up. All you wanted to do was be Joel’s princess for the day, to whine until he took you in his arms and hushed your cries with sweet words and sweeter kisses.

But he had patrol that day, and you didn’t want him to worry. You weren’t supposed to make him worry, you were supposed to be his good girl. You didn’t want him distracted—you knew he’d been stressed about the increased Clicker sightings and you didn’t want to add more to the burden he was already carrying.

And so you stayed silent about it. You smiled at him and sent him on his way, and finally, finally when you were alone, you snuggled up back in bed.

You were freezing. Even with the thick blankets piled on top of you, you still were shivering, and your stomach ache stayed constant. Even your mind began to fuzz to the point where you didn’t know how long it had been since Joel left. You stopped caring about the need to pretend everything was fine—you just wanted him.

You weren’t in the living room when Joel got back. Normally you’d be there waiting since it was the closest comfy place to the door, so the moment you heard the door open you could run and embrace him in a flurry of kisses.

But you weren’t there.

“Baby?” he called out, shutting the door behind him.

No response.

He frowned and took his shoes off, then shed his thick snow jacket and gloves. Beneath he was just wearing dark-washed jeans and his signature flannel.

In your room, all Joel saw was a lump beneath the thick gray comforter. “Darlin’?” Joel crossed the room and knelt beside the bed. Were you asleep? Did—

“Joel?” Your voice was strained, small. You rolled over and Joel’s stomach sank. Your eyes were hazy, your cheeks slightly flushed. Had you been crying?

“Sweetheart,” he whispered. “What’s wrong?”

He cupped your cheek and your bottom lip quivered for a moment before you burst into tears.

“Oh, baby.” He promptly stood and got into bed with you, pulling you into his arms. You were so much smaller than him, so easy to pick up and hold against him. “I gotcha. Shh,” he soothed.

You cried quietly into his chest as you clung to him while he smoothed back your hair and pressed gentle kisses to your head. His words were soft murmurs.

“It’s okay darlin’, I’m here now. S’alright….deep breaths sweetheart, can you do that for me? Can you—oh, good girl. That’s it, just keep taking deep breaths for me…”

Eventually your sobs quieted, though a tear still fell down your cheek every now and then. After a few more minutes of holding you, Joel spoke again.

“What’s wrong, honey?” he prompted. “Can you tell me what happened?”

You sniffled. “Just….” Your brow creased. “Jus’ don’t feel good.”

Joel hummed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Didn’t want you to worry.” Your bottom lip trembled. “I didn’t want—“

“Hey, don’t start again,” he cooed softly, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “You don’t ever have to think that ever again, you hear? I like worrying about you. You’re my baby, ‘s my job to take care of you.”

He saw your reaction to that—lips parting, brows relaxing, eyes going a little doe like.

“You like hearin’ me say that?” he murmured, thumb gently caressing your cheekbone, catching another stray tear. “Like that I take care of you?”

You nodded, eyes big and wide.

Joel kissed your forehead. “You need me to distract you a little bit baby? Make all the bad feelings go away for awhile?”

“Mhmm.” Your little voice was breathless.

Joel chuckled. “Alright honey. You just keep laying there n’ lookin’ pretty—don’t gotta do any of the work.”

Your head had been fuzzy before because of the sickness, but it was nothing compared to now. When Joel talked to you like this, held you like this…it made everything around him grow foggy.

He slid his hand beneath the waistband of your sweatpants and his index finger started to tease your bud over your panties. You squirmed.

“Wigglin’ already baby? I haven’t even done anything yet.” You could hear the smile in Joel’s voice.

His fingers slid past your underwear to dip into your wetness. You whined and tucked your face into the crook of his neck, embarrassed at how slippery you were already.

Joel chuckled and held you tighter. “It’s okay, sweet girl. Nothing wrong with bein’ ready.”

You whimpered as his fingers circled the outside of your entrance. You shook your head at his teasing. “Want your cock,” you whined so sweetly in his ear. “I can take it, promise….just want you to make it all better.”

“Awe baby,” Joel crooned, pressing another kiss to your hair. “Okay. Just give me a sec…”

He shifted to pull down his pants and boxers and toss them to the side. He was already hard against your hip. Laying side-by-side, your chest to his, Joel slid his length past your folds.

Oh….you could have sworn you forgot about your aches and pains right in that moment. He made you feel so full. He was so big, so thick and warm….you could feel him all the way up in your tummy.

Joel let out a sigh that bordered on a groan. “You’re so perfect, sweetheart. So good…”

He started to rock his hips gently and you whimpered, burying your face into his chest.

He chuckled. “So shy, baby. That’s okay, you just sit there…don’t gotta worry about a single thing.”

One of your legs hooked over his hip as his pace sped up and you clung to him the whole way through. You felt so…so…oh, you feel him dragging along your walls so nicely. You were absolute putty in his arms—Joel always made you feel that way, always gave you such big feelings it made you feel too small to hold them all.

“So good, baby,” he cooed. “Such a good girl, taking me so well…just lay there and let me fill you up—oh, you’re so tight around me princess…”

You could feel it then, that big feeling. The one that made you whimper and whine, trying to hide your face more than it already was. “Joel…”

“It’s okay, just let it happen.” His pelvis was rubbing against your bundle of nerves oh so nicely it made you dizzy. “Let me feel you finish on my cock, darlin’, you’re so good for me, so good…”

Every coo and murmur only brought you higher. You let out another high-pitched whine as the feeling started to become too much, too tight too hot too everything, oh you were right there, you…

You cried out as you reached your peak and then fell over the edge. Joel held you the whole way through as you clenched around him and he spilled inside of you, murmuring praises the whole time.

“Good girl, good girl….my pretty baby, you’re doing so well, taking my cock in that pretty pussy of yours….that’s it sweetheart…”

He rocked his hips gently to help bring you down from your high, slowly decreasing his pace until he came to an eventual stop.

He held you in his arms, your body against his. You hummed contentedly and nuzzled at his neck.

Joel smiled. “Feel better, sweet girl?”

“Mmm.”

Joel chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He kissed your forehead. “Why don’t we get in the bath for a bit to clean up, and then I’ll make you some soup? Nothing that will be too harsh on your stomach.”

You blinked drowsily and nodded. “Mhmm. I’d like that.”

Yes, you’d like that very much indeed.

This has so much potential with SugarDaddy!Joel Miller

pretty girl reader who’s actually the sweetest person ever; unfortunately, no matter how kind you are, you’re still a flat broke college student with a heart bigger than your wallet. when your roommate keeps telling you to “use your face card to get us out of this shithole”, you tell her you can’t! she’s suggesting that you go on dating apps and plug your venmo so random men will send you money because they think you’re hot. you (unfortunately for her) have morals, so you think that’s the wrong thing to do. when the after school center you volunteer at doesn’t have enough funding to sponsor gifts for the kids, you finally give in and make the dating profile. you’re clear that the money is only to buy children’s gifts + you’re even willing to prove it by sending receipts of all the items you’ve bought with what you’re calling “donations”

enter in character. rich, hot character who’s focused on work but his best friend makes him a profile. he’s curious to see how his friend set it up and after getting the login info, he finds himself scrolling on the app, bored out of his mind. before he deletes it for good, deeming the app and the five minutes he spent on it a terrible waste of time, he lands on your profile. you’re beautiful, yes, but you’re… collecting money to buy gifts?

intrigued, he messages you. you message him back. you’re earnest and enthusiastic and even through a screen, he can tell: you’re a good person. you’re a genuine person. he doesn’t meet many people like that nowadays. so even after christmas is over and you’ve bought all the gifts, he still finds himself reaching out to you. you have a bright, overly optimistic perspective on everything, and he finds it endearing. he finds everything about you endearing.

just !!! him basically begging you to let him be your sugar daddy (without him ever explicitly using that phrase😭) man who wants to provide x oblivious reader who wouldn’t even take his money without at least doing something in return for him

mmm tall boyfriend!character who you're excitedly telling a story to but you have to keep tilting your head up to look at him while talking, so in the middle of your excited rambling, he takes a seat but also pulls you into his lap; even sitting he's a bit taller than you, so having you on him and so close is far more practical, he thinks. you pause for a minute, but he's looking at you with a tiny smile.

"keep talkin', baby. im listening." but it's hard to concentrate on your story when he's looking at you like that, his large hand rubbing circles against the small of your back.

Kisses After Midnight

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader Smut

Summary: Joel gets back from a long patrol in the middle of the night. It’s clear that his baby missed him very much.

Notes: smut, sub!reader, soft!dom!joel, praise, dirty talk, unprotected piv, Joel calls reader every pet name in the book, teasing, slight orgasm denial, dd/lg vibes sorta (but no use of ‘daddy’), let’s play a game called how many times can the author use the word ‘sweet’ in one fic

For it being the end of the world, you and Joel had a pretty good life. He’d been in Jackson for about eight months—eight months in which he gave his heart to the sweetest little thing to ever walk the earth.

Your very existence seemed to be a mockery of the times you lived in. You were soft and sweet, edges not yet roughed. He didn’t know how you’d gone so long staying as doe-eyed as you did—hell, he didn’t know how you ended up with him. He felt far too…jaded. Far too rough to be with someone so beautiful and untainted.

And yet, you were drawn to him. He still remembered the first day you knocked on his door, asking in your honey-sweet voice, I told Maria I’d give you a tour of the town. Is that alright, Mr. Miller? Oh, he’d just about died then.

Things only took off from there. Something would break in your house, and he’d be called over to fix it. Then you would bring him some bread you baked as a thank you, and then he’d say, Well this is too nice, darlin.’ Why don’t you let me return the favor by putting some shelves up in your living room? He’d seen the piles of books at your bedside—your love of reading deserved to be displayed.

Somewhere along the way, you and Joel just…fit. Something clicked, and soon he was moving into your pretty little house, placing kisses to your pretty little lips, waking up pressed against pretty little you.

Yes, for the end of the world, you and Joel were doing quite nicely.

Except on long patrol days, that is. Oh, Joel knew how much you hated it. Now that you’d gotten used to sleeping in Joel’s arms you didn’t want to give it up, not even for a single night.

But Joel had a part to play in the community—he couldn’t stop working, no matter how much he wished he could spend all his time with you. He’d press kisses to your quivering bottom lip, murmuring reassurances that he would be back the very next night.

Which brought him to now. He’d spent a day and a half out in the cold with Tommy scanning for Clickers, thinking about his princess the entire time ice and wind battered his face. Finally, after a day and a half without seeing you, he was shaking the snow off his jacket and stepping inside your shared home.

Joel was quiet as he took off his shoes and shed his outer layers before heading upstairs. Once inside your room he stripped down to his cotton t-shirt and boxers, then slid under the covers beside you. He wrapped his large arm around your body, pulling you into him and was delighted to find you were wearing nothing but one of his shirts. He nuzzled the top of your head with his nose, then placed a kiss in your hair. “Hey there, sleepyhead.”

You let out a soft yawn, still groggy and half-asleep. “Hm?”

He chuckled lightly and kissed your cheek. “Wake up, pretty baby.” Normally Joel would never wake you up in the middle of the night, but you had explicitly asked him to do so every time he got back from a long patrol. He still remembered your teary eyes the morning after the one time he’d tried to let you sleep and just greet you in the morning. He’d never tried again after that.

Now you began to really stir, blinking your eyes as you looked up at him with a soft, sleepy pout that he wanted to kiss. However, it melted away when your eyes grew a little more alert. “Joel?”

He brushed the hair from your face. “Mhmm. I’m home,” he whispered before kissing you soundly on the mouth. He pulled away just slightly, eyes dancing over your face. “I missed my gorgeous girl’s eyes…and those lips, especially.”

You leaned up to plant another firm kiss to his mouth before holding to him, nuzzling your face into his neck, letting out a soft breath of something almost like relief.

He kept you pressed to the warmth of his body, “Was my little girl lonely ‘round here?” he murmured, rubbing your back gently.

You nodded into his neck. “Missed you.”

He chuckled, kissing your neck, holding you close. “I’m right here now.” His sweet thing. His nose brushed along your jaw and neck, taking in your scent. “Let me ease that pretty little mind a bit, hm?”

Your breath hitched and you nodded, eyes getting a little more glossy…

“C’mere, babygirl…” he whispered, cradling the back of your head to pull your lips to his. Joel’s hands roamed over the curves of your body, mapping out each and every familiar piece of you, his palms warm and strong against your skin. He nibbled at your bottom lip until you parted your mouth in a gasp to allow his tongue to slip inside.

Joel soon broke the kiss, panting softly before he started trailing his lips down your throat and collarbone, nibbling and sucking as he went. “Missed that pretty little voice,” he murmured in that low voice of his. “Can you use it again for me sweetheart?” Joel knew how you got when he spoke to you like this. He knew you would be putty beneath him in no time.

You nodded, letting out a strained, “Mhmm.”

Joel pressed your back to the mattress so you were looking up at him. “Use your words, babygirl,” he reminded, dipping to kiss up your throat again. “Or do I need to make you?” His teeth caught on the sensitive skin below your jaw.

You gasped. “I-I can use ‘em.”

“Good girl,” he murmured, pulling away to look at your face, studying your expression. His fingertips brushed the edge of your neckline. “Can I take all this off, baby?”

You nodded, eyes big and wide. “Yes Joel, please.”

He let out a short, breathy chuckle. “So polite.” With that he got to work, pulling the shirt over your head with one swift tug, leaving you bare beneath him. He looked you over greedily, tracing his hands over your sides, squeezing your thighs, making you squirm. “Oh, sweetheart,” he groaned, eyes falling over your body. “Look at my sweet baby.”

You let out a soft whine of impatience, but Joel cut you off. “Ah—you gonna be a good girl?” He knew you would be. You always were. He just liked hearing it from your strawberry lips.

You nodded, eyes doe-like. “Yes, promise!”

He smiled. “Always listen so well for me.” He sat up a little to remove his own shirt and throw it to the floor, but swiftly leaned back down to kiss you deeply. You tasted like honey on his tongue and his hands slipped along your sides to rest on your hips, locking you in place.

You uselessly tried to buck against his strong hold, trying to press the apex of your thighs closer to his, but he was having none of it. He chuckled. “Needy girl…always gotta have me ‘s close as possible, hm? So greedy, baby.” His sentence was punctuated by a nip to your neck.

“Jus’ missed you.”

“I know darlin’, I know.” Such a soft, sweet voice you had. He met your big, glassy eyes as his fingertips dragged along your neck….your collarbone…until he grasped one of your breasts with his large hand.

He silenced your gasp with his kisses. His sweet girl—so sensitive, you were. You whimpered into his mouth as he brushed his thumb over the peak of your breast.

How had he been apart from you so long?

You were aching. Joel always likes taking his time with you, you knew that, but sometimes all you wanted him to do was pin you down and ravish you instead of playing you like his favorite instrument, stringing his fingers along each little spot that would make you sing….

Joel’s warm mouth closed around your breast and you let out another soft whimper as he flicked his tongue over the peak. Your hands were in his hair, threading through the salt-and-pepper curls while his tongue and teeth were at work.

Eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore. “Joel,” you whined, voice quivering.

“Don’t worry pretty girl, I’m gonna give you what you need.” His fingertips dragged down the center of your tummy, drifting farther and farther below…

“Oh,” Joel cooed, and you moaned softly as his fingers dipped into your wetness. “You’re so ready for me, sweetheart.”

You felt like you could cry from the need, the white hot flames that needed to be fanned and then extinguished. “Joel—”

“I’ll take care of you, darlin’. Don’t worry your pretty little head.”

His thumb found purchase on your bundle of nerves and you keened, arching your back, trying to get closer closer closer while he stoked the fire between your legs. He held you the whole time, murmuring how beautiful you were, how pretty your little voice was, how good you were being for him.

You could feel yourself slowly unraveling; the thread of your very being was fraying, coming apart as you climbed higher, higher—

He removed his hand.

Oh, you whined at that, your climax being ripped away so cruelly and carelessly. “No, no, Joel I—”

“Shh, shh baby.” He quieted your protests with a kiss. “I just had to get you ready for me—want you to finish around my cock.”

His bluntness made you squirm, and you’d been so lost in your pleasure that you hadn’t realized you could feel his hardness against your hip, thick and heavy.

Joel shucked down his boxers and tossed them to the side while you lay there waiting, aching for that fullness you knew so well—

You squealed as he tapped the wet tip of his length against the bud atop your slit.

He chuckled and silenced your high-pitched noises with gentle shushing. “I gotcha, honey,” he murmured.

Then he slid inside.

Joel let out a soft groan next to your ear as he fully sheathed himself within your wetness. “So tight for me baby—“ He cut off with another grunt, sliding out before pushing right back in.

He was so big, his strong arms holding you as he rocked his hips, filling you up, up, up until you swear you could feel him in your tummy. Your walls clenched against him, breath hitching with every thrust.

“My baby,” he crooned, ducking his head to kiss along your neck and shower you with praises as he held you to him. “My sweet babygirl. Missed you so much out on the trail, thought about your pretty little pussy the whole time—”

Your head fell back with a gasp as the tip of Joel’s hardness tickled that spot deep inside that had your toes curling.

He chuckled. “Is that the spot, baby?” He pointedly thrust again, making you moan, and grinned knowingly. “Oh, I think it is, hm?” He picked up his pace again, hitting that spot over and over and over.

You felt something start to coil in your lower belly, something familiar and white-hot. Joel reached down to rub circles into your clit, which made you let out a high-pitched whimper and clench around his length.

You were babbling mindlessly, thoughts empty save for him and how good he was making you feel. “Joel, Joel, I—oh please—I need—”

“I know what you need babygirl.” His teeth caught on your earlobe as he kept his pace. “Can feel—fuck—can feel you clamping down on me. You gonna finish for me already?”

You nodded, your lips parted in a silent gasp of need, eyes big and wide as you whined out a desperate, “Mhmm!”

You bucked your hips into his, and this time when you felt your legs tighten, your breath fail, your tummy coil, Joel murmured hushed affirmatives you your jaw and neck and ear—

You cried out as you fell over the edge. Your back arched, your muscles seized, and your vision blurred with overwhelmed tears as you felt the warmth of Joel finishing inside you soon after.

“That’s it sweetie—fuck, so good for me, such a good girl falling apart on my cock, taking me so well—”

You were letting out desperate needy noises, his name falling from your lips like a prayer as the crackling heat lingered.

“I know, I know,” he murmured, claiming your lips, swallowing your whines with his mouth. “You did so good baby, so good….look at you, my pretty girl, my baby….”

Your body went lax, melting against him, each coo and murmur bringing you deeper under.

“That’s it…I’ve gotcha…” Joel maneuvered you as if you were light as a feather so that you were laying side by side, still connected, him still thick and warm inside of you.

Completely blissed out, you nuzzled into his chest, relishing in the feeling of his strong arms around you. Your eyes drooped.

“Tired already, babygirl?”

“Mmm.”

Joel hummed and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “That’s okay, darlin’. Just fall back to sleep. I’ll be holdin’ you the whole night through.”

Soon the fog overtook your mind completely and you drifted off, comforted by the knowledge that your Joel was home again.

Tainted Prayers Pt. 3

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader Asylum AU

← PART TWO

Notes: Religious themes, cultists, topics may be sensitive to readers

Your name.

It had been swirling around his head for days—a beautiful collection of syllables that seemed to sing their own little song when they rolled off Joel’s tongue.

That first day with you hadn’t yielded much progress. In fact, the days afterwards hadn’t really either. It was the same each day—he’d enter your tiny room and sit in the chair across from your bed. He’d ask you simple questions: How are you doin’? Was lunch okay today? Did you sleep alright?

You’d answer them in short little sentences, as if terrified your voice would be stolen should you use it too much. You said you were fine—you always did, but even though your answer to his last question would be a little hum and then a nod, the evidence was plain on your face. Your little cheeks looked hollow, your hair tousled, your eyes drooping.

The only time you seemed to relax was when he read to you, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because there was no pressure for you to respond and you were able to simply sit there. Maybe you enjoyed listening to God’s word. Maybe it was because you liked the way his voice sounded. He wouldn’t have given any thought to that last one usually, but….well, it was the very topic that prompted you to use your darling voice in one of your sessions with him.

Joel still remembered the surprise he felt when, out of nowhere, you’d spoken up in the middle of his reading.

“Do you always talk like that?” you had asked in a voice so sweet it made Joel want to clutch his chest.

He replied, “Talk like what?”

“Talk with that voice,” you’d said. “You say things like ‘yer’ instead of ‘your,’ or ‘beginnin’’ instead of ‘beginning.’” You tried to mimic his way of speaking as best you could.

He cocked his head. “Do I really sound like that?” He hadn’t thought his accent was that thick. Maybe it was just that way when he got lost in reading.

And then—God help him—you smiled. It was a shy little one, barely even there, but it was a smile nonetheless. “No, you don’t sound exactly like that—I’m bad at copying it. But…it’s similar.”

Joel couldn’t help the grin that had split his face. “I was raised in Texas on my grandfather’s farm,” he explained.

Your eyes seemed to brighten. “A farm?”

Joel nodded. “You ever been to one before?”

You shook your head.

“Well, s’not as exciting as it sounds—it’s pretty dirty. And the horse stables smell even worse.”

You sat up a little. “Horses?”

Joel paused, his eyes flicking over the way your hands had stopped fidgeting. “Yes,” he said slowly. “We had four of ‘em.”

“What were their names?”

“Well, one of ‘em was named Rocky.”

You grinned. “That’s adorable.”

“Short for Rocket Launcher.”

You blinked, then started giggling. If that wasn’t the most angelic sound he’d ever heard…

“Seriously?” You asked, the dimple in your left cheek showing. “Don’t tell me you were the one who named him.”

Joel chuckled. “M’afraid the mind of an eight-year-old boy isn’t all that creative.”

You laughed again, a sound like tinkling bells. Joel wanted to bottle up that laugh and hold it close to his chest, tucked beneath his ribcage and right next to his heart where it would be safe.

“Did you ride them a lot?” You asked. “The horses?”

Joel shrugged. “Every once in awhile. Usually there wasn’t time—too much to be done around the farm. My grandfather was very much a ‘work hard so you can work harder,’ sort of man.”

“I don’t think that’s how the saying goes.”

A corner of Joel’s mouth twitched up. “To him it was.”

“Well then you must have been bored out of your mind. I know I would have been.”

Joel shook his head. “No, it wouldn’t have been the same for you. I’d’ve made sure that your only job would be to sit there and look pretty.”

Something changed in your gaze then—your pupils got a little wide, your cheeks a little pink. Joel watched as the flush bloomed on your skin. The sight of it made him ache.

Then you looked down and fidgeted with the hem of your shirt. “Well, it doesn’t matter,” you whispered. “I won’t be visiting your farm anytime soon.”

That had been a few days ago, and your words had stuck with him. It made something dark and ugly rise up in him, something he had to shove back down and shut away in a box with seven locks. It was blasphemous. Doubting God was sinful.

And yet the question remained.

How could you be a Ten?

It didn’t make any sense. You were just about the sweetest little thing Joel had ever laid eyes on. You looked like you belonged in a white and pink lace dress with your hair pulled back with a butterfly clip, watering strawberries in a garden in the afternoon sunlight.

Surely your blood couldn’t be anything darker than the lightest pink. Surely it couldn’t.

And yet your file said it was. There was no arguing there. But if that were true, if a person as sweet-hearted as you had blood that reflected the exact opposite, then that would mean the Blood Scale system was a sham.

That was a dangerous train of thought, one that made Joel feel as though the ground was crumbling beneath his very feet. He tended to stay away from that part of his mind.

And yet sometimes late at night the question repeated, swirling in his brain so fast it made him dizzy.

How could you be a Ten?

You weren’t alive on Outbreak Day. By the time you were born, enough time had passed since then that the Blood Scale had already been widely recognized across the world. You were four when you saw your first commercial on TV: a regular public service announcement reminding to ‘call this number if you or your family have or have thought to have had an encounter with a Ten.’

By the time you were learning about it in school, the history was already common knowledge. Rankings One through Ten determined purity, reflected by the color of one’s blood. No one knew what had caused it to come about. Some said it was an evolutionary change, your species’ way of adapting to protect itself, to single out the good from the bad on a genetic level. Some said that it was a curse from God. Others said it was a gift from Him.

What they didn’t teach in school was about the before—a time when blood wasn’t colored, when everyone had the same bright red within their skin. Aunt Bea liked telling you stories about it when she wasn’t choking on cigarette smoke or swimming in liquor.

You wondered if Joel had similar stories. He was older than Aunt Bea, and surely his were better than hers, especially if he had lived on a farm with horses….

And he said that all you’d have to do was sit there and look pretty. He’d called you pretty. Maybe it was silly to get this giddy over a simple word, but it helped lift your spirits more than you would ever know. Here in this place you felt dirty. Empty. But Joel looked past the boxy scrubs and the eyebags.

A hand prodded you forward, drawing you out of your reverie. “Keep walking.”

You nearly stumbled, but luckily kept your balance as you continued your pace along the corridor.

Today was supposed to be your first day in the dining hall, and Joseph and Maria were your escorts for the day. Apparently the workers here kept new patients in their rooms for a couple weeks to determine how insane they really were. If they were alright enough to interact with others, they’d have the privilege of not dining alone with the other only-sort-of-crazy members here.

Yay you.

It was something, at least. The situation was bittersweet. On one hand, you’d get to see other people. You had been struggling lately, what with your only dining companions being your four white walls, white bed, white chair, and white floor. Sometimes you pretended that Father Miller was there in the corner reading the Bible to you in that rich, rumbling bass of a voice.

On the other hand, you were kind of sort of absolutely terrified. Everyone inside Silver Lake Asylum was supposed to be criminally insane. Could you really deal with that for forty-five minutes? What if a fight broke out? What if the only thing the guards cared about was making sure you stayed in the asylum, not what physical state you were in?

I’m supposed to be the worst of them as a Ten, you thought to yourself. If I can handle myself, then surely I can handle the others.

You kept that thought with you almost as a shield as Joseph swiped his keycard and opened the dining hall door.

Hello! I write for several fandoms (the main ones being The Last of Us, Call of Duty, Outer Banks, and Marvel). I’m open to writing smut, fluff, angst, whatever! More details about who I write for can be found on my profile under Rules and Fandoms/Character List!

Call for Writers Who Want Fic Requests

Fanfiction writers, if you're taking requests and want to receive more of them, please reblog or comment with the characters you write, whether you write smut, whether you write dark, and a link to your rules if you have them. Any fandom!

Why? To connect potential fic requesters with you. 🖤

No hidden motive - I get inquiries about requests and idk where to refer them when mine are closed. Will link this on pinned post.

Adults only, please.

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edit: I unblazed this in case the blaze caused an issue with comments showing up 😐 sorry if yours didn't show up, please try a reblog. hellsite smh

Shhh honey, it’s alright. I love that groggy voice you make when you’re sleepy, you’ve been moaning in it for the last few minutes. Hey calm down, just relax for me, ok baby? I’m going slow, just how you like it. Just stay calm and take it, then we can go right back to sleep, ok?

Thinking about this with Joel….just him pressing kisses to your neck from behind and murmuring into your ear, “That’s it sweetheart, just fall right asleep with me inside, you’re doing so good baby—”

Fuck me to sleep and let me keep your cock warm all night

I write for The Last of Us, Call of Duty, Outer Banks, Marvel, and Star Wars! (Or any DILF character you can think of) I only write fem!sub!readers, and I’m open to writing smut!

Call for Writers Who Want Fic Requests

Fanfiction writers, if you're taking requests and want to receive more of them, please comment with the characters you write, whether you write smut, whether you write dark, and a link to your rules if you have them. Any fandom!

Why? To connect potential fic requesters with you. 🖤

No hidden motive - I get inquiries about requests and idk where to refer them when mine are closed. Will link on pinned post too.

Adults only, please.

Tainted Prayers: Part 2

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader Asylum AU

← PART ONE | PART THREE →

Notes: Religious themes, cultists, topics may be sensitive to readers

You were led down a long hallway with beige water-damaged walls. The tiles were freezing beneath your feet, each step bringing your toes closer and closer to becoming icicles. You shivered, pulling the sweatshirt closer around your neck to try and block out the cold.

There were two people leading you—one a man with close-cropped carrot hair and the other a woman with dark skin and hazelnut irises. They sort of looked like the eyes of the nice man from before, the one who’d collected you from the bus. You didn’t know where he’d gone. Soon after he’d led you inside he’d been summoned away for some sort of other task that needed attending to.

You clenched your hands to stop them from shaking. You’d heard of this place, of course. Everyone had. Silver Lake Asylum was supposed to be a home for the insane, the wild, those that weren’t human enough to function on their own. Those who had been kissed by the devil instead of blessed by God.

You didn’t think you were insane, but…well, crazy people never thought they were crazy, right? You’d been told you were. Aunt Bea had said so, and after that night….

The orange-haired man opened a metal door to your right and you winced at the high-pitched squeal the hinges let out.

You froze.

“Let’s go,” the man said, prodding you forward.

You nearly stumbled, shaking your head. “No, no I can’t, I—”

He pushed you forward again, this time into the room. Showers lined the walls with water-stained silver handholds; rust clung to some of the drains embedded in the ceramic tile floors.

Your vision started to blur with tears as you shook your head more violently. “Please don’t—I—”

Memories assaulted you, ones of you huddled and shivering beneath a frozen stream of water with purple lips, the smell of mold on porcelain making you gag…

You were suddenly shaken. Shocked out of your daze, you looked up to find the woman gripping your shoulders, her brow creased. When your gaze met hers her face relaxed.

“She’s fine,” she said to the man without looking at you. His nose was wrinkled as if disgusted by your tears.

“Let’s just…get her a bucket and washcloth or something instead,” he muttered. He seemed almost uncomfortable by your display. His boots were swift as he exited the room.

Twenty minutes later you were as clean as you could be without a proper shower, dressed in white scrubs with a brown-orange stain on the hem of one of the sleeves. Your toes were no longer frozen—you’d been given white socks with sticky texturing on the bottom to keep you from slipping.

Your room was bland. White walls, white floor, white sheets. There was a single chair in the corner of the room facing the bed, also white. There was no window and there were bars covering the light fixture—most likely to prevent any patients from breaking the glass bulb and using the jagged shards as a weapon, either against others or themselves.

Despite being warmer than before, you hadn’t stopped shivering. Was this supposed to be your new life? Never feeling the sunlight on your skin again? Never seeing the sky? Tremors wracked your body and you felt another wave of panic, followed by a smaller flare of self-disgust. You were pathetic. How many times had you broken down today? How many times had tears clouded your vision, had fear fuzzed your mind? How many times—

There was a quiet beep and your door opened. An unfamiliar man walked through (but then again, wasn’t everyone unfamiliar these days?).

He had strawberry blond hair that receded from a round, wrinkled forehead—wrinkles far too deep for someone middle-aged. His chin was pointed, his nose even more so.

The skin crinkled around his blue eyes as he gave you a friendly smile. “Well hello there,” he said, shutting the door behind him. The lock clicked.

You didn’t respond and your eyes followed him as he sat down in the white chair across from you. He was dressed in a simple button down and slacks.

He studied you for a moment before extending a hand. “I’m Bishop David, the head of this institution.”

You didn’t shake his hand.

Bishop David nodded as he pulled it back and gave an understanding smile. “I hope you’ve settled in alright, though I heard you gave Joseph and Maria some trouble at the showers.”

At this, you squirmed uncomfortably. “I don’t like water,” you whispered.

“Ah.” He leaned back in his chair. “Well, we all have things that irk us, don’t we?”

You didn’t respond.

“Quiet, aren’t you?” He cocked his head and his eyes took on a strange look, as if he were trying to look through you. He clasped his hands. “You were brought here for a very serious reason, you know. Your aunt—she was a good woman.”

You looked down.

“And a good woman’s judgment should be trusted, shouldn’t it?” He leaned forward a bit.

He spoke your name.

You looked up.

“You’re unclean,” he said softly. “You’ve been touched by the devil, been shunned by God. Your aunt was wise to hand you over. You shouldn’t be ungrateful for your circumstances.”

You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt.

“We’re going to help you,” he said intently. “But to do that, you need to admit to yourself first that you are tainted. Your soul is evil. You must understand that.”

You didn’t say anything. Tears welled on your lashes.

Bishop David let out a small exhale and stood. “I expected denial, but none as strong as this. The devil is working hard on you.” He gave you a small smile. “Don’t worry. We’re going to help.”

And with that, he turned and walked out of the room.

Days passed. The asylum staff didn’t give you a calendar, nor did you ask for one. What was the point? You weren’t getting out of here anytime soon. You didn’t deserve to.

The routine was the same each day. In the morning you’d wake to a plate of cheese and bread set on your bedside table for breakfast. Lunch was beef jerky and crackers, and dinner was soup. At night the lights would shut off, leaving you in pitch blackness.

Nights were always the hardest. You couldn’t sleep, not when you could practically feel the darkness pressing in on you from all sides, like it was strangling you. You’d wrap yourself in your blanket and curl into a ball to try and hide, but how could you escape something that was everywhere all at once?

You could practically feel yourself wasting away; not just your body, but your mind as well. You had no one to talk to, nothing to do. The only time you saw the outside of your cell was when you were led to the restroom by an armed guard.

Today you were sat criss-cross on your thin mattress, picking at the crust of your bread, getting ready for another day of staring at the wall with empty eyes when you heard a small beep.

Your door opened a moment later and in stepped him.

He didn’t look any different than he did on the day he’d collected you from the bus. Square face, tired eyes, Roman nose. His beard was flecked with gray, same as his brown hair along the temples. He was dressed the same as he was before—black button down, black slacks, black shoes. The only thing that wasn’t dark was the white of his clerical collar.

“Mornin’,” he said in his deep, rumbling bass of a voice.

“Good morning,” you said softly. You watched as his dark silhouette moved to take a seat in the white chair, a spill of ink against paper.

He was holding a thick leather bound book in his hand. “You, uh, get settled in alright?”

You shrugged.

“Bishop David told me he came to see you. Said you were…on the quieter side.”

“I didn’t have anything to say to him.”

The man’s thick brow furrowed and he seemed to study you for a moment before he shook his head to dismiss whatever thoughts were swirling in his mind. “Well, I’m Father Miller. I’m going to be helping you in your reformation.”

You gave him your name as well, but it was more for the sake of formality. Did this man really think he could help you? You were bad—you were unclean.

“What’s that?” You asked, nodding to the book in his hands.

“Oh, this? S’the Bible.”

Of course. You shouldn’t have expected anything else.

“Are you going to read to me?”

Father Miller nodded. “Is—“

“Why?”

He cocked his head. “What d’you mean, ‘why?’ Do you not want me to?”

“No, I just…” You fidgeted. “Do you really think it will help me?” What good would hearing such holy words do if you were already damned?

“Bishop David says it will, and I…I trust him.”

Your eyes flicked down as Father Miller’s large hands opened the book.

“S’this alright?” he asked, his voice suddenly so soft and honey sweet it made you want to hear it again. You nodded.

Father Miller’s eyes fell to the book in his hands.

And he began to read.

Tainted Prayers

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader Asylum AU

Notes: Religious themes, cultists, topics may be sensitive to readers

Hope you guys enjoy! I've taken some creative liberties (this is an AU after all) with adding in some of my own worldbuilding. I'd love to make a part 2 if there's interest!

Edit: PART TWO is up!

Every time Joel smelled that metallic tang curling beneath his nose, he tried to think of his grandfather’s farm. 

Old Grandpa Charlie had been one of those men who never did seem to lose their youth, even with age. He’d been robust, spry. There had been quite a few times when Joel had been out helping him clip the horses’ hooves or shear the sheep when his grandpa would suddenly halt what he was doing. He’d sniff the air, then turn to Joel with a twinkle in his eye.

“Smell that, boy?” he’d ask. “It’ll be rainin’ soon.”

The first time it had happened, Joel had made a frown of confusion so deep it was almost comical on his eight-year-old face. “But there ain’t a cloud in the sky—”

“That don’t matter.” The old man tapped the side of his crooked nose. “You can smell it, see. Smells like metal in the air.”

Sure enough, the next day there had been a downpour. 

It helped Joel to look back on such memories. Sometimes, if he pretended hard enough he was back on that farm, he could imagine that the metallic stench permeating the air was due to a coming rainfall rather than the blood spilled on the asylum floor. 

The poor woman stuck cleaning the mess met his eyes before he could avert them. She gave him a small, strained smile. “Father Miller,” she greeted.

He nodded back, stomach twisting. He didn’t stop walking. 

The woman went back to scrubbing the floor and Joel focused forward once more as he continued down the hall. His clerical collar felt tight, like a serpent squeezing his neck.

Eventually he was far enough where the metallic tang of the blood no longer reached him. Joel began to clear his mind, instead focusing on the task ahead. He’d been serving at the asylum for nearly twenty years and not once had he been assigned to patient collection. When he’d received the call for this particular assignment, he’d had half a mind to argue, but Bishop David had quickly reminded him that the task had been given by God, and as such rejecting this opportunity would be rejecting Him. 

Joel exhaled. God’s work, he thought. This is God’s work. It had become a sort of mantra these past years. He had to continually remind himself that Silver Lake Church had assigned him to the asylum because the tortured souls here needed him—he was meant to be a tool in God’s hands to aid Him in His mission of reformation.  

Joel held his keycard up to the lock beside the door. When he stepped outside, he squinted his eyes against the harsh sunlight. Gravel crunched beneath the soles of his shoes as he made his way out onto the drive and spotted another priest. 

“Mornin’, Father Clyde,” Joel greeted, approaching the man waiting beside the barbed wire gate. 

Father Clyde turned and a gentle smile split his face, calling attention to the wrinkles around his mouth. Joel didn’t know exactly how old the man was. Younger than Grandpa Charlie, yet still quite a few years older than Joel himself. 

“Good morning, Father Miller,” Father Clyde replied politely. 

“That the patient’s file?” Joel asked, nodding to the thin manila folder in Father Clyde’s hands. 

Father Clyde nodded. “This is your first time at collections, yes?” His voice was smooth—a contrast to his grooved face.

“Yes, sir.”

Father Clyde passed the file to Joel. “Today is going to be rather…unusual, I am afraid.”

“Unusual?” Joel opened the file to skin the information. “How d’you mean?”

“Many patients can be aggressive when we extract them from the bus, but today’s subject…well, her guardians submitted her blood scale number as a Ten.”

“A Ten?” Joel frowned. “And they only sent two of us to deal with her?”

“This one was described to be…different.”

The Blood Scale was an easy way for society to rank the color of one’s blood—and purity—from One to Ten. The general population fell within the range of Three to Five. Tens were the worst of the lot. Their blood was the color of the sky in the middle of the night—deep black like their demonic souls. 

On the other end of the scale, Ones had blood the color of snow on a fresh winter day. They were the purest humans to walk the earth, but the only Ones Joel had met were newly-born babes who didn’t even have the capacity to sin yet. By age thirteen, most people’s once-light blood had already darkened to at least a Three. 

Joel looked over the patient’s file once more. “If she’s a Ten, how come she’s not being sent to the East wing?” The East Wing was where they kept all Tens, with a few Nines sprinkled in there every now and then. Joel hadn’t ever been there, but the stories from that part of the asylum made his skin crawl. 

“If her guardians felt the need to send her here and Bishop David approved it, then that is all we need to know. It is not our judgment to make,” Father Clyde was saying. “That is revelation that Bishop David receives from God. It is simply our job to carry out the tasks we are assigned to.”

Joel frowned. “The file doesn’t say anything about what her crimes were.”

“It’s not about what she’s done, Father Miller. It’s about who she is. If she’s being sent here then that means her soul must be reformed, regardless of whether her blood is dark or light.”

The sight of the bus driving towards them halted their conversation. The gate opened with a screech, and the bus drove through. Its tires squealed to a stop.

Father Clyde took the file from Joel as the gate rattled closed. He nudged Joel towards the back of the bus, where the bus driver was pulling a keyring out of his pocket. 

“You the one collecting?” the driver asked, looking at Joel.

Joel nodded. The driver didn’t respond, he just merely twisted the key into the padlock on the bus’ back door and swung it open. Joel braced himself for an animal of a human being to throw themselves at him, for snapping teeth and sharp fingers…

Inside, fast asleep and curled up on one of the padded benches, was you. You were in a sweatshirt so large it seemed to swallow you whole. You looked tiny. Fragile. 

“Wake up!” The bus driver bellowed, thumping his hand on the side of the bus. The jarring sound echoed in the cramped interior.

You jumped awake with a gasp, scrambling to a seated position. 

Joel shot the driver an annoyed glance. “Was that really necessary?”

The driver didn’t answer him. He retrieved a small slip of paper from his pocket and approached Father Clyde. “I’m going to need you to sign this…”

Joel turned back to the patient. He had expected…well, anything but this. You were a Ten? Your hoodie was pulled up to your chin protectively and the cuffs of the sleeves covered your hands up to your second knuckle, fingertips barely peeking out. It was dirt-streaked and the hem was caked with mud. 

Your face was twisted into a fearful expression, but that didn’t make it any less darling. You had a soft face, strawberry lips, and there was a tiny little v between your brows as they creased in worry. And your eyes. They were wide, watery, and doe-like. You were shaking like a leaf, the poor thing. 

Joel took a step closer and you flinched. He paused.

“Hey, darlin’,” he tried in a soft voice. The nickname rolled off his tongue mindlessly. His hands were held out before him, as if trying not to spook a frightened baby deer. “Why don’t you come on out?”

You still hesitated. 

“We’ll get you all cleaned up and something warm to eat,” he continued. “How’s that sound, sweetheart?”

Joel could see the conflict in your eyes. You were obviously suspicious of the kindness in his tone, yet it seemed as if you wanted to trust him. You just weren’t sure if you could.

Slowly you got to your feet and approached him as one would a bucking horse. Your bare feet made no sound on the bus floor as you stepped—your shoes must have gotten lost in the scuffle to get her into the bus in the first place.

Your eyes flicked up and down his person, finally coming to rest on his outstretched hand. You stared at it for a painstakingly long time.

Then you delicately slipped your hand into his, your palm soft against his callused one. 

okay, but a man talking you through your orgasm. a man who smiles the second you climax and is all "there we go,", is smoothing his hands over your trembling thighs and says "you're shaking so hard, baby," who has to keep your hips down as he tuts "easy, sweetheart, easy, that's just the second one...", who exhales a laugh under his breath as he sweetly inhales the back of your neck, his palm cupping your pulsing cunt when he points out "too much for you, my love? are you getting sore?"

𝔹𝕒𝕞𝕓𝕚'𝕤 𝕎𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘

Joel Miller

Types of Kisses

Joel soothes your insecurities

Joel comforts you when you’re sick

Joel makes it up to you when you’re jealous

Useless Part 1, Part 2 coming soon!

Kisses After Midnight

Tainted Prayers Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3

Bruce Wayne

Bruce picks out your nails

Types of Kisses with Joel

Kisses to distract you while you’re reading your book. It was one you’d never heard of before, but Joel had found it on a supply run and had brought it home for you because he thought you’d like it—a decision he’d come to regret every time your pretty little doe eyes were concentrated on the pages instead of him. Now his lips move across your neck, your jaw, and your shoulder while he coos, “Come on, sweetheart, put the book down for a sec.”

Kisses to your quivering bottom lip before leaving for a long patrol, murmuring reassurances against your mouth. “I know baby, I know…it will only be for a little bit, I’ll see you tonight, okay sweet girl?”

Kisses when you’re injured after escaping a pair of Clickers—in your haste to get away you’d tripped and cut your leg on a sharp rock. “Awwe, darlin’,” Joel had murmured as he kissed your tears away and carried you back home, where he cleaned the wound wrapped it up, sealing it with a sweet kiss on the bandage. 

Kisses to your eyelids when you’re falling asleep in his arms at night.

Kisses to your forehead as he tells you he loves you. 

Kisses in the morning when you’re still his sleepy, tired girl and can hardly kiss him back. 

Kisses to your jawline when he gets back from patrol, cradling the bowl of your skull with his big hand as he tilts your head back to expose your neck. “Missed my pretty girl so much,” he’d sigh, his breath fanning over your neck and making you gasp when his teeth dragged along the sensitive skin beneath your jaw. 

Kisses with Joel.