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me-and-your-husband · 1 year

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i’m starving, darlin’ (let me put my lips to something) || j. miller

summary: you won’t let joel eat. he has something else in mind, modern!au, still takes place in 2023.

warnings: joel fucks the reader with a beer bottle (no, it’s not empty...), dirty talk, kind of exhibitionism?, female reader, reader wears a dress, modern!au, not proofread

word count: 1.4k

a/n: this is just me being so fucking feral. y’all saw my “ellie fucks the reader with her pistol”? same idea. don’t think about the logic cause i sure as fuck didn’t. title credit to @tieflingpride . i too am obsessed with hozier’s new song (been a hozier girlie for awhle). let’s not talk about the fact that the song is actually about generations exploiting new generations thru capitalism! only pay attention to the slutty base intro! also the idea that joel can’t cook is kind of from @textsfromeponinet ‘s blurb. i wrote this in like forty minutes.

The hot summer air clung to your skin as you crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in your chair, pulling your dress down over your thighs. The golden evening sun was peeking out through the trees in Joel’s backyard, coasting over the four of you in a comfortable glow. You sat next to Joel, his hand resting comfortably on your thigh as you chatted with Tommy and Maria. Sarah was at a friend’s house, missing out on the barbecue. The only part of cooking Joel could pride himself on was his barbecuing.

“Not sure how much I trust your cookin’ Joel. Not after the time back home when you lit old Mrs. Garcia’s kitchen on fire,” Tommy said to Joel with a smirk, making both you and Maria look to Joel and laugh.

Joel grinned. “If I remember right, that fire only started ‘cause I had to pick your ass up from that party and I forgot I had shit cookin’,” he said, tilting his head to the side and tilting his beer bottle up to his lips, taking a swig.

“He’s better at barbecuing than he is…anything else. I promise,” you said, making Tommy and Maria chuckle. Joel squeezed your thigh.

“Reminds me. Should go sauce the steak,” Joel drawled, getting up from his place next to you and walking a few feet away towards the sizzling barbecue.

Maria leaned in closer to you, “Please tell me you made those salads I saw in the kitchen earlier.”

You laughed and assured her that you made them. “There’s caesar salad, pasta salad, potato salad, macaroni salad, you name it. Joel eats like a man starved, so I always make sure we’ll have leftovers for a couple nights. Y’all can take some home if you want,” you offered.

“We’ll definitely take you up on that. Tommy here takes after his brother.” You and Maria laughed as Tommy rolled his eyes with a smile.

“I’m pretty sure last time someone let Joel around anything that couldn’t be grilled, everyone went home with food poisoning,” you joked, jolting when you felt hands begin to gently massage your shoulders from behind.

“That right. Darlin’?” Joel laughed. You smirked at him as he sat down. “Steak’s almost ready. I’d say in five.” He took another swig of his beer.

“In that case, I should go inside and put the dressing on the salad. Didn’t want it to get soggy or I would’ve done it earlier,” you said as you got up from your chair.

“Oh, let me help you!” Maria said, standing.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. Sit! I’ll be right back.” You opened the back door, shutting it gently behind you. The kitchen windows were open. You could still hear small bits of the conversation going on outside if you listened hard enough.

You began pulling the different bowls of salad out from the fridge and onto the counter. You grabbed the caesar dressing and added it to the salad, mixing it around. You looked over your shoulder when you heard the back door open and shut, still mixing.

“Just grabbin’ another beer, honey,'' Joel said, grabbing you by the hips and moving you gently to the side so that he could get in the fridge adjacent to you. Joel grabbed another bottle before closing the door. Hand still on your hips, he peered over your shoulder at what you were doing. He brought the lid up to his mouth, cracking the lid off with his teeth and throwing it out. He downed about a third of the beer, only stopping when you turned to place the bowl on the kitchen island. However, you ran into his broad chest, his frame stopping you from moving past him.

“You’re drivin’ me crazy with that little dress you’ve got on, pretty thing,” he groaned. His breath smelled like beer, but you knew he wasn’t drunk. Just tipsy.

You giggled. “Joel. I’ve gotta finish up. The people want to eat,” you said, trying to move past him.

“Hm, so do I, darlin’,” he said with a smirk, pulling you back into him by the wrist.”

“Joel!” You gasped, smacking him playfully on the bicep. He took another swig of his beer, grabbing the salad bowl with his other hand and throwing it on the counter. “Joel, not now. We can finish this later, I pro-”

He cut you off with his lips on yours, hands cradling your face, the cold surface of his beer bottle pressed up against your cheek. You whimpered into his mouth as he pressed your back into the island.

He broke away. The grin on his lips was almost permanent, an ever-present reminder of his constant desire for his woman. “You won’t let me taste you, but that doesn’t mean you can’t take something else for me, honey.”

Your brows furrowed. He lifted you onto the counter and you squealed. “Joel, what if Tommy or Maria come in?”

He pressed another kiss to your lips. “Shh, baby. Window’s open.”

His rough hands lifted your dress higher and higher until it was bunched around your hips, your dampening panties the only thing shielding you from the air. Noticing the wet spot pooling there, Joel’s thick fingers traced it, fingers ghosting over your pussy, leaving silent kisses there.

“Already this wet for me, huh?” he whispered before taking one last sip of his drink. “You feelin’ brave, sweetheart?”

“Anything for you,” you said, becoming too wet to care or resist.

He hummed and moved your panties to the side. “That’s what I like to hear.”

You gasped as you watched him lower his bottle to your core, running the cold tip through your wet folds, making you shudder. “Trust me?”

“Always.”

He smirked. He lined the cold tip of the bottle up with your entrance, pushing in ever so slowly, watching the way it disappeared perfectly inside you. You bit your lip as he worked it deeper. You couldn’t help but moan when it bottomed out inside of you.

“Gotta keep quiet for me, honey,” he said as he slowly pulled it out and worked it back in. He pulled you so your ass was barely supported by the island, his arm doing most of the work. “Look at you, takin’ my bottle like a slut,” he chuckled. You didn��t care. You let out quiet, breathy moans as he worked it in and out of you.

“Faster, please Joel,” you moaned softly. He obeyed, thrusting it in and out at a faster pace, eyes transfixed on your slick collecting around the neck of the bottle. You could feel the familiar pressure in your core building up. One of your hands found his hair, pulling gently for some reprieve. His other hand moved to circle your clit, hell-bent on seeing your release.

You bit back your moans as your release crept up on you, Joel trying his hardest to coax it out of you. He thrived off your little moans of his name, begging for your release, knowing he was the only one who could give it to you.

“That’s it, baby. Come on, know you can do it. Cum for me, pretty thing. That’s right.”

The coil finally snapped, Joel clamping a hand over your mouth immediately in an attempt to quell your moans. He worked the bottle in and out of you through your orgasm, your back arching and body writhing up off the counter.

When you came down, Joel took his hand from your mouth and gently worked the bottle out of you, watching the way your puffy hole clenched around it, then clenching around nothing. As you tried to catch your breath, Joel brought the bottle up to your eyes. You blushed at the sight of your cum running down and inside the bottle, mixing in with the liquid left still inside.

“Look at that, honey,” he said before bringing it up to his lips, taking a savory sip before kissing you once more. He grinned as he began to make his way outside.

“Joel?” You called, still wanting more of him. Always more.

“What? The people need to eat, baby.” He laughed before going back outside.

A few minutes later, after straightening yourself out, you walked outside with the salads. Your eyes couldn’t help but gravitate towards Joel, sprawled out in his chair, still sipping from the bottle.

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me-and-your-husband · 1 year

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mine truly and forever || j. miller

summary: joel comes back to you in whatever way he can. part two of “yours truly and forever”.

warnings: smut, creampie, oral (male and female receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, unprotected sex, language, dirty talk

word count: 4k

A/N: this took me awhile to get out, sorry everybody! also, i really didn’t plan on writing a part 2 to this, but the demand was really high. not my best work, so i just fed you all with smut instead lmao

here’s my masterlist if you’d like to read more of my work!

You had long since given up hope that Joel was coming back for you.

Every morning, you woke and swallowed down the tightening in your throat, the knot in your stomach. You believed he had moved on. Maybe he found his brother and settled down with Ellie.

Anything was better than what was most likely. Anything was better than him being dead.

You rose with the sun and fell with it too, wondering every day if you’d ever see him again. If you’d ever get to laugh with him, or cry with him, or touch him. Some part of you thought that, maybe, your night spent together was just his desperation for some human touch. All you were to him was a way to satiate his desire. Maybe.

You tried not to think about it, but the thought of him him him seeped into everything you did. Feeding the cows? You thought about Joel. Harvesting? You thought about Joel. Cooking? You thought about Joel. Laying awake at night, eyes flitting across the darkness, searching for something? You thought about Joel.

So, yeah, you’d given up on the idea of him awhile ago.

It had been two years since that night. The night you gave yourself wholly to him. The night you let him into the most intimate parts of your body and soul. Since you let him crawl through you, seeing into your depths.

The first few months after him were honeyed in hope. When your alarm went off, signaling something was trying to breach your perimeter, you rushed to the camera and prayed it was Joel. It was always just some stray infected or moose or something that wasn’t him. As the snow melted, your heart was loyal. You breathed in the belief of his words every morning. The slush on the ground a reminder that he’d be safer in the warm weather, that he’d come back to you sooner. The summer was warm. Your garden thrived, preparing for his return. You ate strawberries on your porch and basked in the golden sun, soaking in the heat. Your skin dripped in sweat, heart dripping in steadfast hope.

In the winter, you faltered. You still hoped for his return, you still believed in his promise, but you started thinking about other possibilities. Though, you rarely entertained them. Another spring passed. And another summer. Another fall, winter, and spring. It was summer now, but the heat was more suffocating, the sunshine more of a nuisance.

Over the last winter, you grit your teeth and weathered your bones. You felt betrayal, deep in your gut. Had he lied? Just to keep you solitary? To keep you from chasing after him? To keep you away?

You didn’t know. You didn’t care. Did you?

You didn’t know.

You had given him everything, but he couldn’t keep a promise.

You forced yourself to separate the idea of him from who he really was. He was a man before he was yours. He craved the life that would offer him something to do. He craved you, but didn’t he crave others? Did he crave you, or did he crave someone to take care of him?

Who was Joel Miller? Who was he, and who was he to you?

Was he even the type to come back to you? No. Probably not. Not when he’s lived through this for 22 years. Not when he’s seen his friends die. Not when he’s killed. He wasn’t the type to lay down and become a farmhand.

Besides, you saw the way he looked at Ellie. Part of you was sure that he’d never leave that girl. She meant more to him than he’d ever say. He was never just yours. He never would be.

So you shoved the thought of him to the corners of your mind, rejecting it endlessly. You’d never let yourself think too hard about him, only ever letting his image flit about your mind like a lost butterfly. You shut him out and never sought him out again.

Another morning fell into your lap. The sun barely peeked over the horizon when the sound of alarms ringing out through the property jolted you awake. You rolled your head to the side to stretch a sore muscle, hand reaching under your bed for your rifle. No reason for alarm. Whatever it was, a stray infected or an animal, no doubt, would fall into one of your traps, or you’d pick it off without wasting a single bullet. All in a day’s work.

You slid on the first pair of shoes you could find, slipping out the door and making your way towards where the camera had signalled the breach. You groaned as you realized just how early it was, the sun barely illuminating the ground you stepped on.

You held your rifle out as your eyes scanned the fence line. Nothing. It must have been one of the traps that set off the alarm. Sighing, you push the buttons on the padlock and it opens the gate.

Moving to the nearest trap, you peek the muzzle of the rifle into the hole. It was still dark, but you made out a figure standing at the bottom of the pit.

“Move and I’ll fucking shoot you,” you yelled. No response, just the sound of heavy breathing. “You infected?”

Your name was whispered into the air like a breath of something you never thought you’d hear again. That beautiful, rugged, rich voice. The voice that you loved, so dearly. The voice that you hated.

“Joel?”

“It’s me, honey,” he was breathless. It was almost as if it was his first moment of rest in twenty years.

Your heart skipped a beat, breath faltering for a moment. You didn’t let the tears threatening to pool in your eyes spill. Instead, you threw your rifle to the side and got on your knees, reaching into the dark pit. “Take my hand.”

Extending your hand, you almost immediately felt his large, rough one envelop yours. You used most of your strength to pull him up, him hoisting himself up once he got a good grip. He falls on top of you with the momentum, catching himself before his figure crushes yours. You could feel his heavy breath on your face, painting invisible lines of what you both want. A sea in his eyes, pooling with everything that’s happened since he left you, with everything he wanted to say, everything he wants to say. You lean into him a little, breath hitching and brows furrowing when he finally attaches his lips to yours.

It was like an oxygen mask, breathing you to life. It was more desperate than any kiss you had shared. He was here, in your hands. He was alive. He was heart and flesh and blood and he was with you again.

Your arms pulled him in close until he groaned into your mouth. You pulled away to study his face. He didn’t meet your eyes, instead, absorbing every feature of your face that he had missed for so long.

You began to lift his shirt to see why he had groaned, but his hand on your wrist stopped you.

“Joel,” you warned. “Lift up your shirt.”

“Take me to dinner first, hey?” He chuckled. He was stalling. He didn’t want you to see whatever was under his shirt.

You gave him a warning look before he gave in. Sitting up, you gently lifted his shirt. There wasn’t a concerning amount of blood for once, just small lacerations here and there that might need a few stitches. However, the skin underneath the marks was full of vibrant purples and blues and yellows, painted across the flesh of his abdomen like some sick piece of art. A small gasp left your lips at the sight, but Joel tilted your chin up to look at him, pulling his shirt down with his other hand.

“Just fell, darlin’. I’d do it all again to get to you.”

Heat spread across your face, tinting your cheeks. All the resentment you had for him fizzled away (but was it really resentment if you could forgive him with just one kiss? Or maybe that was just the power Joel had over you).

“Let me patch you up, cowboy,” you said as you stood up, grabbing your rifle and pulling him up with you. “Come on.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Leading him through the house by his hand, the silence settled nicely. Something unspoken lingered between you two, remnants of what happened still drifting. Ideas of what might happen were tempting.

You led him to the bathroom, instructing him to sit on the counter. You opened the cabinet and grabbed everything you’d need.

“It’s like every time we meet, you’re on the verge of death, Miller,” you said as you laid your supplies out.

He grunted. “Not on the verge of death right now, honey. Just a little banged up, is all.” You told him to take off his shirt. He did so without a word of protest. “I’m just lucky I’ve always got my favourite girl to patch me up.” His hands reached for you, wanting you to be close to him. He grabbed your hips and positioned you in front of him, between his legs. You didn’t look away from the cuts and bruises on his chest and stomach.

“Not always, apparently,” you muttered under your breath as you began to dab his chest with a damp rag, washing away the brutality of what he went through to get to you. His brows furrowed, his hand moving to your wrist.

“Don’t be like that, honey.”

“Fuck you,” you whispered, pulling your wrist from his grasp and going back to your task. You were both silent as you cleaned his chest, both avoiding eye contact.

You grabbed the dated peroxide. “Might hurt.”

He nodded in acknowledgement. He made no noise when you applied it to the areas of concern, but the cords in his neck tightened nonetheless.

“Sorry,” you whispered, the desire to sooth him and shut him up with your mouth still clawing at you. He grunts in acknowledgement. You continued to clean him up, till all his wounds were stitched and his skin was clean of blood.

“Done,” you finally spoke, throwing out the dirty rags and cleaning up. You went to move past him to get out of the bathroom, but he slid off the counter and blocked your exit. Your face was only a few inches from his chest. “Joel,” you warned, “let me out.”

“Not 'till you tell me why you’re so mad at me, darlin’,” he said, his voice gruff yet soft. His hands slid up and down your arms, which were on your hips.

You tried to push past him again, but he didn't budge.

You huffed, and his eyes softened, large hands moving to cup your face. “You don't know how much I missed you,” he said, brows furrowed.

You closed your eyes. “I do know.” You felt him press his forehead to yours, and you reciprocated, hands moving to hold his wrists. You didn't have the energy to be mad at him anymore. You just wanted him.

“Then let me show you,” he whispered, breath fanning over your lips, driving you wild. Everything about him was intoxicating.

His lips found yours again, still needy and fervent, but there was something more. Something hungry. Something growing, something left over.

He pushed you against the bathroom counter, hands moving across your body, touching you everywhere, anywhere he could. His hands ghosted over your breasts, across your thighs, rubbing your hips, caging you in. You whined, “Touch me.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere. I just need more,” you said, breathless.

At that, he placed you on top of the counter before he lifted your shirt from your body, “Nothin’ underneath? Knew I was comin’,” he said with a smirk. You were breathless as he kissed you again, sliding your pants off your body. He broke from your mouth to lay wet kisses on your neck and chest, biting and sucking his mark into your flesh.

You whimpered when he gently ran a finger over your clothed core, bucking into his hand, desperate for anything more. He groaned when he felt how wet you were, your slick already pooling in your panties. He didn't have it in him to tease you. Not today.

He slid your panties down your legs. You felt the heat of your core come in contact with the air, your slick beginning to drip down your thighs. He dropped to his knees, looking up at you with nothing but pure desire, want, need, and, dare you say, love?

He kisses the soft inside of both thighs, your hands tangling in his hair, before his face hovers over your soaked core. He pressed his head into the inside of your thigh, running a finger through your folds. You moaned at the seating contact, watching as he brought his finger to his lips and captured your slick on his tongue. He moaned, “Missed this pussy.”

He played with your clit experimentally, just to see how wet you could get without his saliva, before the tempting sight of your pussy collapsed him. He dove in like a man starved, licking and sucking, spreading your folds apart to get further inside. Your hands still fisted in his hair as you moaned. He draped one hand across your abdomen to keep you still, hips bucking up into his mouth.

His mouth was a magic ailment, drawing that familiar sensation from you in a matter of no time. The coil in your belly grew, hot and heavy, until his work on your cunt sent you over the edge, gripping his hair and moaning his name.

“That's it, pretty girl. Give it to me,” he said as he worked you through your high. When he noticed you squirming, whispering “s’too much”, he moved from your core and up to your mouth. Your hands spread across his chest, still bare, as you tasted yourself on his tongue. Your juices were smeared across his face, glistening in the hair there.

“Take me to bed, cowboy,” you said against his lips.

“Yes Ma’am,” he breathed. He picked you up, wrapping your legs around his body, and carried you to your bedroom. You pressed kisses across his neck and chest as he moved.

When he laid you down on the bed, he caged you underneath him. You reached to his belt, unbuckling it and throwing it to the side. He removed his pants, and you began palming him over his boxers. He was rock hard, eating you out almost getting him there in itself.

“Please,” you said, nearly inaudible. “Will you let me taste you?” You stroked his bulge.

“Fuck, honey. How could I say no to that?”

You rolled so you were on top of him, freeing his thick cock from its constraint. He sat up on the edge of the bed, you sinking between his legs.

You stroked his cock, smearing the precum around the tip. He was sensitive. You could tell he hadn't had anyone since you, and he definitely didn't have the time to take care of himself. He groaned as you began giving kitten licks to his tip, hand fisting in your locks, not guiding you, just needing a place to find solace.

“Gonna be the end of me,” he groaned when you put him fully in your mouth. He threw his head back, tears pricking your eyes when you tried to take him all. He was desperate for his release, but he was desperate to release inside of you even more.

“Baby, m’ not gonna last. Wanna finish inside of you,” he groaned. You lifted your head from his cock, wiping the saliva from the corners of your mouth, eyes wet.

“So pretty. C’mere,” he said, gesturing to his lap.

You climbed atop him. “Wanna ride you,” you said, sucking into his neck.

“Fuck, okay. Okay, you can ride me honey,” he said. You were absolutely ruining him.

You kissed him silly, straddling his lap. He was so enamoured with you, everything you did. The way you tasted, smelled, sounded. He was pussy drunk.

You parted from him to run his tip through your entrance, still soaked with your cum and his saliva, collecting your wetness. Lining him up with your entrance, you moaned into each other’s mouths when you sunk down onto him. Allowing yourself a moment to feel him sheathed fully inside you, stretching you out, filling you up, letting your body remember the way you blended together, you kissed him with a renewed passion, something you thought had died.

You held onto his shoulders as support, his large hands gripping your hips, gritting his teeth. When you lifted yourself off of him and back down, you set a desperate pace, grinding yourself down on his cock.

“Not gonna last long, pretty thing,” Joel groaned, eyes fixed on where you were connected. You were too set on your release to care, you just knew you wanted him inside you forever.

“Don’t care,” you gritted out, panting and out of breath. The noises filling the air were downright unholy, but neither of you had it in yourself to care. “Want you to fill me up.”

Joel growled, “Fuck, honey. Fill you up so good, you’ll be dripping out of me. That what you want?” He asked, landing a smack to your ass as you bounced on his cock. You moaned. Your release was right around the corner, your cunt clenching hard on his cock, thighs beginning to tremble. Joel moved a hand to circle your clit, hell-bent on getting you there. “So pretty,” Joel said, almost whimpering. “So good for me. Squeezin’ me so good.”

His words went straight to the fire growing in your core, your slick pooling at the base of his cock. Finally, the coil snapped, your orgasm dancing down your legs and up your body. Your thighs and frame trembled as you tried, you really tried, to keep bouncing on his cock, but your thighs were too weak at this point to keep going. Fixed on release, Joel flipped you so you were caged underneath him, barely missing a beat before spearing his cock into you. He swallowed your overstimulated whimpers.

“Gonna make a mess out of you. Fuck, almost there,” he groaned.

“Inside, inside, please,” you choked out, still delirious from your previous orgasm. However, you felt another one building inside of you, the friction of his body as it rubbed against yours added to your previous stimulation was enough to get you there again. You lazily toyed with your swollen clit, not having enough energy to focus, yet you knew it wouldn’t take much.

Joel barely noticed your state as his hips faltered in their pace, hitting that sweet spot so good. You had barely any control left over your body, but as he groaned and the muscles in his front tightened, the feeling of his hot seed filling you up was enough to send you into a frenzy. He groaned into your neck, your loud, wanton moans filling the air. As he filled you to the brim, you shook underneath him, your third orgasm overtaking you.

When he had recovered, Joel looked down to where you both met, taking note of the creamy ring formed around the base of his cock. He grinned, still breathless, as he gently unsheathed himself from your core, watching you squirm and wrinkle your nose at the overstimulation. He laid down next to you, and you naturally curled into him.

It was still morning, the rest of the day still ahead of you, but as Joel pulled the blanket over the two of you and watched your chest heave, he had the feeling that time didn’t matter anymore.

Your eyes fluttered open and met his. You noted how sore your body was, but the pull at your heart was no match. He had been watching you sleep, watching as you cuddled into his warmth and trusted him enough to hold you as you slept. The bright daylight filled the room, lighting up all his features, shining on the pretty grey in his hair and beard.

“How’d you sleep, honey?” he asked, his voice gravelly. You could feel his heart beating as you laid against his chest.

You hummed, “Better than I have in a long time.”

He smiled. There was a soft silence for a while as you just looked at each other, his hand stroking the skin of your face, kissing your cheeks and forehead, down the bridge of your nose, and ending at your lips. Finally, he said, “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

Your easy grin faltered for a moment. “It’s okay. I just…” you breathed in, “I thought you were dead.”

He pulled you into his chest. “I’m okay. ‘M right here, darlin’.”

You leaned into his touch, basking in the knowledge that you weren’t going to lose him again.

“Come back to Jackson with me.”

“Jackson? In Wyoming?”

He nodded.

“Joel, that’s far…”

“I’ve made the trip twice now.”

You were silent for a few moments, thinking. He spoke again. “I know this is your home, and it’s been your home for years. And I-”

“Joel,” you cut him off. “Anywhere you go is my home. I’ll come to Jackson with you.”

Joel Miller’s smile was something rarer than diamonds or gold, but it appeared on his face as real as ever.

Joel kissed you like the world had never ended, like you were his world. That’s because you were.

A week of bliss later, you had packed everything you’d possibly think you’d need on one horse and two backpacks. You’d set all your cattle free to roam and disarmed your alarm system. You had made Joel map out your route to Jackson, ever the planner, going through every minute detail. Nights were spent wrapped around each other, and mornings were spent wrapped around the blankets. You spoke of the life you would have together in Jackson, spoke about Ellie, spoke about everything.

Often, you’d look up at Joel and be met with a punch to the gut. The idea that the man you spent two years of your life praying for, standing right in front of you? It hit you out of nowhere sometimes. It was hard to be thankful in a world like this, in a world that did nothing but take and take and take from you. It was hard to believe that he was really here, that the world gave you something good for once. Sometimes, you’d have to touch him, really touch him, just to make sure he was really here. Just to make sure you hadn’t finally gone crazy and started to imagine him.

You began to fear that the world was going to whisk him away from you. Maybe a clicker would get him, or maybe a stalker. Maybe you’d react too slow, too quick, too late, too poorly, and he’d try to save you. Maybe he’d get another infection. God knows that man does not take care of himself.

These fears plagued your mind day and night, awake and asleep. They brushed your thoughts when he touched you, fingers working you into a puddle, you melting into him. These thoughts were unspoken, never would they be said aloud, or they just might seize you in your sleep and become real.

When you got to Jackson, the fear of losing him never ceased, but you did come to realize something.

You realized that what you were feeling, this utter, disgusting dread and fear of losing the one you love the most, was completely natural.

You loved Joel with all of yourself, and you knew that if anything happened to him, you’d lose all of yourself too.

After so long, your hearts were molded to one another, holding on for dear life. And you’d spend that life together. Truly and forever.

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tlou taglist: @jordie-gvf @sunxflowerxx @themusingkitten @anxiety-made @mmerraa

permanent taglist: @winters-fairy @idkwhattonamethisblogs

#joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x reader fluff #joel miller x reader angst #the last of us #tlou #hbo's tlou #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x reader smut

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