sakurabl0ss0m

[sakurabl0ss0m]

“This is over.” Bro jus stood there and lied his ass off LMAAAOOO I can’t wait for part 3

don't think we could help it (joel miller x reader) 18+

here it is!!! the much anticipated sequel to "you know i don't mean it" aka the soft!dom joel fic that somehow hit 1k in like 3 days???? truly wild. i listened to what you guys had to say and decided to turn this into a little series/collection. the timeline won't necessarily always be linear but i'd really like to explore these two a bit more. i hope you enjoy! btw, i now have a tag list so if you'd like to be notified when i update this series/post fic in general, interact with that post! summary: joel has a new idea he'd like to share with you (and you're more than willing to try it out). rating: 18+ explicit (mdni) warnings: smut, age gap (reader is mid 20s, joel is mid 50s), praise kink galore, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics (joel is dominant but not degrading or aggressive), fingering, lap sitting, teasing, edging, orgasm denial, comeplay, come eating, clothed male and unclothed female, uhhh if i forgot something pls lmk word count: 4.1k | ao3

This is new. Beyond new, it's insane. He's got you laid completely bare on his lap, legs wide, the palms of his hands pressed flush against your inner thighs as he holds you open. The cold air is a relief against the heat, not only for your core but for your mind as you try to keep your thoughts clear despite them becoming more and more muddled the longer he holds you like this.

Since your outburst the last time you'd decided you wouldn't bring it up again, not until he brought it up himself. You'd decided you could deal with it; you didn't really need him to fuck you, it was just one of the many desires you'd have to push away and forget about. Clearly his boundaries went deeper than you'd thought, but he'd said he wanted you and that was enough. Whatever the reason for holding back, for not allowing himself to actually touch you, you could deal with not knowing.

But then tonight happened.

It's been one week since your last patrol with him, the patrol where he confirmed his desire for you, and you'd been expecting the usual routine as you situated yourself on the couch. He'd slowly approached you, expression unreadable.

"I wanna try something different," he'd said quietly.

You'd scrambled to sit up, eyes shining with interest as you perched yourself on the arm of the couch, "Yeah?"

He took one more step and then he was directly in front of you, standing tall and broad while you sat there feeling small and vulnerable, unsure what he was thinking. Slowly, carefully, he brought one of his hands up and traced your jawline with his fingertips, making you tremble. It was the first time he'd actually touched your face, the first time he'd allowed his skin to brush against yours apart from when his fingers had slid inside your mouth last time. It was heaven.

You'd closed your eyes involuntarily and leaned into his touch, practically purring at the feeling. You heard his breath hitch, the back of his fingers stroking your cheek as his thumb found a place at your mouth, tracing the shape of your lips. Without much thought you'd opened it, inviting him to slip his thumb inside. He'd exhaled deeply and you'd opened your eyes again to watch the cogs turn in his head, watch him decide what you deserved and what you didn't.

To your disappointment he didn't slide his thumb inside your mouth; instead, he pulled his hand completely away from you. You whined at the loss, shoulders falling as you peered up at him pathetically.

"Joel," you whispered, but your words ended there; you didn't know what to say, didn't know if any sort of protest would end whatever he'd decided would be different tonight altogether.

He just shook his head and stepped away from you, sitting on his end of the couch. He didn't put his feet up or lean back like usual, he sat on the edge of the third cushion and began to palm himself through his jeans. You watched with aroused interest, biting your lip as you gazed at the long shape of his cock, hard and firm.

You still weren't sure what he was thinking but you stayed frozen where you were, waiting for him to tell you what to do.

"I was thinking," he finally broke the silence, not looking at you as he thumbed the wet head through the denim, a small dark spot appearing in the fabric, "That you could sit in my lap tonight."

The rules are as follows:

touch yourself the way he tells you to.

stop touching yourself when he tells you to stop.

come only when he tells you that you can.

he will not be touching you.

You shiver in his lap now, looking at yourself leaking down your legs and soaking his jeans. God, you'd had no idea you were this touch starved; just the feeling of him beneath you, his fingers splayed firmly against your thighs, you think you could come without even touching yourself. But those aren't the rules.

"One finger," he breathes, tickling the side of your neck where he's resting his head, watching, "Nice and deep, lemme see."

You obey, bringing your shaky hand to your centre and pushing your middle finger inside to the hilt, exhaling deeply and trying your hardest to avoid even brushing against your clit for fear you might start to come already.

He hums in approval, breath hot against your skin, "Now pull it out," he murmurs, "Real slow, show me."

You slowly remove your finger, biting down on your lip. It comes out drenched and shiny, slick with your wetness.

"And back in," his voice is like honey, slow and sweet. You push your finger back inside, "And out again, just like that. Good girl."

You moan at your pet name; it's the first time he's used it tonight and you've been waiting to hear him say it. It's hard to believe how easy it is for some simple words to make you completely submit to him, hard to believe how badly you want to be good for him, to do exactly what he tells you. Earlier today you'd given him shit for forgetting to put the safety on your gun when he'd handed it to you. That version of yourself doesn't exist here.

"In and out," he whispers, sending waves of tingles up and down your spine, "Count to ten for me."

"One," you begin to count your slow thrusts, voice shaky and breathless, "T-two."

He flexes his hands on your thighs, curling his fingers into the flesh. For someone who's never actually touched you before up until this point, he's sure getting his fill now; you'll have marks tomorrow, impressions of hand prints where he held you open. The thought makes you throb.

"Nine," you whimper, fucking yourself once more, "Ten."

"Good girl," he praises again, nosing your shoulder gently.

The room feels stuffy despite being so large and open, and your whole body feels like it's on fire. You can feel the tension building in your lower belly; how the fuck are you so close already? You've never been able to get off this easily and now you feel like you could break at any second, directly contradicting one of the rules.

"Can I take my shirt off?" you ask quietly, hoping you're not crossing a line, "I'm really warm."

He chuckles, "You just wanna be naked on my lap."

"...Maybe."

"Add your second finger and I'll think about it," he murmurs against your neck, "Show me you can be good."

You swallow, nodding and slowly slipping another finger inside.

"You're so wet," he says, a genuinely awestruck air in his voice, "All this from just sittin' in my lap?"

They're not just words, he means them. He's questioning himself, questioning whether he's really capable of making you fall apart like this. And he is; you can't believe he doesn't see what you see, doesn't see how sexy and alluring he is, how he doesn't even have to touch you to give you an orgasm.

"Yes," you moan softly, leaning your head back and feeling his nose against your throat, "Feels so good, Joel, you have no idea," you plunge your fingers in and out, closing your eyes and shivering at the way his cock throbs beneath you, "I love feeling you."

"I know you do," he whispers, "Been thinkin' about it all week, wanted to give you somethin' more, you deserve it."

"I do?" the thought makes you smile; it pleases you that he thinks you deserve this, that he thought about it and wanted to do it for you.

God, you really are fucked.

"You do," his fingers stroke your inner thighs gently, tickling your skin, the tips of his thumbs brushing lightly against your outer lips. "Plus, I wanted to see this pretty little pussy a bit closer," his breath is so hot and wet against your skin, making your whole body shake as you continue to fuck yourself, "And now you can feel my cock, can't you? Just like you wanted, but without breakin' the rules."

You make the rules, you want to say, squeezing your eyes shut tighter, you can change them. You could fuck me right now if you wanted to. But you don't say anything, knowing deep down that asking for it again won't get you anywhere. This is a part of it now, a new factor in this thing between the two of you, and you know he'll hold it over you to keep the control on his side. You have to admit, he knows what he's doing.

"Third finger, pretty girl," he whispers and you do as you're told, adding your third and clenching tightly around all three digits, "Look at that, so full for me."

His cock throbs again, heavy and thick against your ass, and you keen at the fact that this is just as hot for him as it is for you. He's not doing this for your benefit, he genuinely enjoys it. He wants you.

"Thumb on your clit," he breathes, and your eyes open again, wide and unsure.

"I'll come," you whimper, feeling slightly ashamed at your admission, "If I touch my clit I already know I'm gonna come."

He smiles against your skin, "Really? From just a little touch?"

"Y-yes."

"So if I..." he trails off and suddenly removes his right hand from your thigh, moving it closer to where you're open and full.

"Oh my God," you breathe, voice barely a squeak, "Yes, yes, please touch it, please."

"Where? Where do you need me to touch?"

"Joel," you groan, shutting your eyes again and trembling in his lap.

"Use your words, pretty girl, tell me where you need me to touch you."

"My clit," you practically hiss, "Touch my clit, please."

You've stopped moving your fingers entirely, laying still inside of you, keeping you wide. He doesn't admonish you, just twirls his index finger teasingly near your pussy and smiles against your neck.

"But that's against the rules," he murmurs.

"Fuck the rules," you practically growl.

You regret it instantly, watching as his hand returns to your thigh and you hear him laugh lightly in your ear. Scowling, you let out a long groan of contempt and pull your fingers out, leaning back against his chest pitifully. The buttons on his shirt dig into your flesh, reminding you that he's still fully clothed. It somehow makes you wetter.

"For someone who claims to be my good girl, you're not being very good tonight, are you?"

"I am," you pout, "I told you, I'm just really oveheated."

"Poor baby," he whispers, and you watch his hands lift from your thighs to tug at the hem of your shirt, "Let's take this off, then. Arms up."

You oblige, lifting up your arms and allowing him to pull your shirt over your head. He freezes for a moment, the material bunching in his hand as he makes a fist.

"You didn't wear a bra?" it's barely audible and you smirk.

"No, I don't wear one when I'm on patrol with you."

"Ever?"

"Ever."

"Christ," he tosses the shirt to the floor and places his hands back on your inner thighs, pulling your legs apart more than they already are and pressing the thick length of his cock deeper against you. "You know, good girls don't do shit like that."

"Then maybe you need to punish me," you challenge, half joking but also not, wondering if maybe he'll finally give you what you want.

"Maybe I do," he mutters, "Fingers. Back in. Now."

You obey, pushing your fingers back inside and waiting for his next order, the tension of your orgasm still building in your belly. What is he gonna do? For a moment you're fearful that he'll stop touching you, leave you there to get yourself off without a second glance. You start to fuck yourself again, biting down on your lip and doing everything you can not to stimulate your clit.

His hands move again and you gasp in shock as he brings them to your bare breasts, cupping them in his palms. You lean back further into his touch, basking in the way his strong and wide torso envelops yours, holds you firm as you shove your fingers in and out.

"Well, aren't these pretty?" he croons in your ear, thumbing your nipples lightly, "Knew they would be."

The fact that he's thought about what your breasts look like makes your skin flush even warmer as you squirm in his lap, feeling small and breakable in his embrace. He rotates your nipples with his fingers, humming softly to himself in satisfaction. You continue to fuck yourself as you await your potential punishment...whatever it might be.

"You wanna come, don't you, baby?" he asks you softly, and you nod frantically, pathetically, "But do you think you deserve to come?"

You hesitate, brow furrowing, "P-probably not."

He laughs again, genuine and warm, "At least you're honest."

He lets go of your breasts and palms your stomach, the width of his hands giving you butterflies. He gently traces your belly button, your pubic bone, watching goosebumps rise on your flesh as he trails his fingertips along your skin.

"So pretty," he murmurs, hand dipping to your mound, the tips of his fingers only inches away from your clit, "Jesus, you're swollen."

You bite down on your lip, trying not to make any embarrassingly pathetic sounds; you can practically feel his eyes on your cunt and it makes you want to scream.

"Take your fingers out," he whispers, and you obey, hand shaking.

"You're gonna punish me, aren't you?" you finally whisper.

You feel him shake his head, "Not tonight, pretty girl," he inhales deeply, nosing your hair and gently stroking the skin just above your pussy with his thumb. "I think it's time I finally broke a rule."

Your heart races at his words, eyes widening. You're about to ask him what he means when he suddenly takes both your hands in his and brings them to your thighs, placing them gently down on your warm flesh. He keeps his left hand over yours, enveloping it as his right hand moves downward. Your eyes widen even more, watching as his big hand stills right in front of where you're wet and aching.

"You say it'll just take one touch, did you mean that?" he asks quietly.

"Y-yeah," you whimper, and you're not lying.

You watch with bated breath as he extends his fingers and gently prods your clit with the pad of his index. Just as you knew you would, you tense in his arms and let out a ridiculously loud moan, clenching around nothing as you start to come, body twitching wildly atop his lap. You feel his gaze on your face, watching as the smallest possible touch from him sends you into an absolute frenzy.

"Oh fuck," you cry, tilting your head back against his shoulder, feeling his beard scratch roughly against your cheek, "Joel, Joel, Joel," you repeat his name over and over until it's done, leaving you laying there motionless in his lap, limbs heavy and loose, his finger still sitting tenderly on your clit without movement. You feel your eyes close, head still firm on his shoulder as you breathe deeply in and out.

You lay there in his lap, legs still wide as your belly rises and falls from exertion. His finger rubs your clit once, just once, a soothing gesture that makes your hips buck lightly. He pulls it back and gently trails it to your entrance, hesitating for only a moment before he slowly slips it inside of you. You barely register it, still completely undone from your orgasm, body still processing the aftershocks. He doesn't say anything, just pushes his finger further inside until it's fully sheathed in your heat.

"You feel that?" he finally whispers to you, and you nod languidly, humming in affirmation. He keeps his finger inside of you, thick and long, filling you up, "Feel good?"

You hum again, still catching your breath. You swear you feel him smile against your cheek. Slowly, he pushes a second finger inside, and your lips part at the stretch, eyes opening only slightly as both of his fingers still inside you.

"And that? You feel that?"

"Yes," you whisper, slowly bringing yourself to move forward again, looking down to see where you're connected. You watch as he carefully pushes a third finger alongside the other two, your opening burning in the best possible way at the intrusion. His fingers are so thick, so wide, it's almost like you've got five of your own somehow crammed in there. You clench around him, your hand coming up to hold his wrist, small and fragile compared to his.

"Doesn't hurt, does it?" he murmurs when all three fingers are completely enveloped, his beard brushing your cheek again.

"N-no, feels good," you reply immediately, squeezing his wrist lightly, "Feels full."

"I just want to see how much you can take," he says softly, "I need to know your limits."

"I don't have limits with you," you whisper like it's a secret, and you mean it. He could do anything, say anything, and you wouldn't care. You should probably be ashamed of it, but you're not.

"You should," he replies, voice strained, "You know I have my own limits with you." He carefully adjusts you in his lap, turning you slightly to face him, "Look at me," he murmurs.

You turn around, finally seeing his face for the first time since you'd seated yourself in his lap. He's looking at you carefully, brow furrowed, gauging your expression like he's worried you're lying to him. He must be content with whatever he sees there, because you notice the ghost of a smile tug at his lips.

He slowly pulls his fingers from your core and brings them to your lips. "Suck," he orders softly.

You do as you're told, leaning forward and taking all three fingers in your mouth without hesitation, lapping yourself up as he watches. When you've gotten everything, he removes each finger one by one, then thumbs the corner of your mouth.

"Good girl," he breathes, and you smile in response, enjoying his praise. He smiles back and you feel him tap your thigh gently, "Get up for me now, okay?"

"'Kay," you whisper, shakily moving from his lap and bringing yourself to stand up. You turn around then, standing over him completely bare while he leans back on the couch, shuffling his legs open. You look at his crotch, see the outline of his cock, still hard and thick. Your cheeks turn bright red when you see the large wet stain you've left on his jeans.

He follows your gaze, smirking, "Yeah, you made quite the mess, didn't you?"

"Sorry," you whisper, and he shakes his head.

"Don't be sorry, pretty girl," he reaches for his zipper and tugs it down, pulling his cock out of the confines of his underwear and slipping it through the denim. You swallow, remembering the feeling of his come on your tongue, the hot salty taste in the back of your throat as you'd swallowed all he had to give you.

"Where do you want me?" you ask quietly, hoping against reason that he'll ask you to get on your knees.

He doesn't, as you'd expected, "Just stand right there," he says, stroking himself firmly and quickly, "Stay still, just like that."

You obey, staying very still and watching him jack himself off, his eyes trailing up and down your body hungrily. After only a moment, he shuffles himself forward and points the head of his cock upward, toward your belly. With one final stroke he grunts, deep and masculine, and you watch as his come paints your bare stomach, thick, white, and warm. You shiver, crossing your legs as your cunt begins to throb again, just like last time.

He finishes and releases himself, falling back on the couch and breathing heavily. He looks up at you from under his lashes, completely wrecked.

"Did I do good?" you ask softly, and you feel yourself grin as he shuts his eyes and tosses his head back with a groan.

"Yes, beyond good," he replies, looking back up at you and wincing slightly, "You're gonna kill me."

You giggle proudly and reach down to drag your fingers through his spend on your stomach, reveling in his eyes on you as you bring it to your mouth and push it against your tongue, swallowing it greedily. He groans shakily, carefully stuffing his dick back into his jeans and zipping himself back up. You scoop another finger of his come into your mouth and he stares at you, eyes dark.

"Might as well come directly in your mouth next time," he mutters, and you nod immediately.

"Yes, please."

His expression changes then, no longer playful or aroused. He stands up and walks over to your discarded clothes, picking them up and handing them to you without saying anything. You take them from him with a frown, watching as he picks up his gun from the chair near the fireplace and slips it back inside its holster.

"Are you mad?" you ask softly, unsure if you've said or done something something to upset him.

"No, I'm not mad," he replies, but the roughness of his voice betrays him, "Get dressed, okay? We've still got a few hours left."

You wordlessly slip back into your underwear and jeans, wiping the rest of his come off your stomach with the back of your hand before you pull your t-shirt back on. You look over to see him shrugging his coat on, facing away from you.

"Did I do something?" you ask, and you hate how weak you sound, how shaky your voice is. In any other circumstance you wouldn't hesitate to challenge him, but somehow after being so exposed to him only moments ago, so open and vulnerable, it's difficult to bring the real you back.

"No, you didn't do anything," he says gruffly, "It's me, I already told you we shouldn't be doing this. Should've ended it last week."

His words hurt, but somehow they don't cut you like he probably means them to. You walk toward him, still frowning, "What's the problem? I thought you liked it."

He doesn't say anything and you reach out to touch his shoulder, making him flinch and turn around to look at you again. Your eyes widen when you see that his are suddenly shiny with tears. Your lips part in surprise and you reach for his arm again, gripping his bicep tightly.

"Joel, what's wrong?" you whisper, "You're crying."

"Leave it," he says quickly, yanking himself from your touch, "I told you, we shouldn't be doing this. We can't do it anymore, this was the last time."

"Where is this coming from?" you're so confused, feeling helpless as he backs away from you, "Five minutes ago you were calling me your good girl and now-"

"You gotta stop letting me call you that," he grimaces, "I need to get ahold of myself, I can't keep letting this happen."

"Letting this happen?" you repeat, feeling anger begin to bubble in your throat as the real you finally begins to surface, "You're the one who asked me to sit in your lap, Joel. You're the one who started this whole thing to begin with."

"And I never shoulda been so weak," he spits, shaking his head, "You're a fucking kid, this is messed up."

You stare at him in disbelief, mouth agape, "I'm a grown ass woman, Joel. You know that better than anyone."

"I'm almost thirty years older than you, I should know better."

"Why are you being like this?" your anger betrays you as you feel tears begin to well up in your eyes, "Why are you being so mean? I didn't do anything wrong."

"Exactly, you didn't. It's me," he repeats, turning away from you again, "I'm gonna tell Tommy not to assign us together anymore, this is over."

"No it's not," you stomp forward and try to grab him again but he's already halfway out the front door of the ski lodge.

"Stay inside," he says firmly, still looking away from you, "Leave me alone." The door slams and you stand there in shock, staring after him through the glass as he walks away from you.

What the fuck.

if you have any requests/ideas you'd like to share for this series or any fic in general, feel free to send me a message! i also have a kofi if you'd like to tip me (entirely optional of course but much appreciated).

taglist (click here to be added):

@detectivedaughter @townmoondaltwistle @str84pedro @sammiesap-blog @heartfairy @cutesyscreenname @tinycranberri @daisysliv @morks-watermelon @dakota-00 @jettia @johnwatsn

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #tlou fic #pedro pascal fic #soft!dom joel #saku talks 💬

[sakurabl0ss0m]

He drops his mouth to your ear, whispers. “You’re fucked up.”

Man im such a whore I cant keep doing this 😭

Something going wrong and Joel using readers body to take out his frustration or blood lust 🤤

A/N: Joel Miller x F!Reader. floor smut. torture. dark vibes.

You feel it. 

It’s deep, scratching at your insides. The heat burrows so far it scorches the lining of your belly. 

Shameful.

But Joel knows. He lifts his head, molasses-black eyes sliding from your hitching chest to your burning hot face. He rips the knife from the man’s knee. The thing moans, twitches like a strummed guitar string, boots frantically scraping across blood-drenched cement. Then - it goes still. Dead.  It's done.

Joel says your name. It tumbles out, smacks the ground and hits you right between the legs. 

“Girl,” he warns. “You best leave if you don’t want it.”

You grin. It’s beyond your control. Your lips pull taut.

It. It. It. 

He shoots upward and storms toward you. He’s stained in red, curls wild and you react by stumbling backward. Your ass hits the ground hard before Joel is on top of you, climbing up your body. The knife clatters somewhere by your head. 

“You liked that.”

It’s a statement rather than a question. Joel says it as he undoes the button on your jeans, shucks the fabric down your legs. It’s freezing cold and your breath is visible - coming up fast and desperate. He uses the flat of his hand to drive your thighs apart, his calloused fingers slide through the folds of your cunt. You’re soaked and he grunts like he’s both pleased and somewhat surprised. 

He drops his mouth to your ear, whispers. “You’re fucked up.”

It’s so blunt that it slaps your clit. It breaks your fragile pieces open. You scramble for his shoulders, dig your nails into the back of his neck. You need every naked part of him he’s willing to give. You want to get his clothes off, but there’s no time. You hear the click of his belt buckle, the shifting denim fabric. He lowers his hips before shoving forward and then he’s inside you. It’s too much, stretching your cunt in half. He’s in your guts. Your lungs. His blood-slick palm slides over your belly as he thrusts up, the head of his cock punching against your womb because it’s meant to hurt. He wants it to sting-ache like a deep, unrelenting bruise. After one violent stroke that makes you whimper, your thighs close up, your knees locking against his hips. He hisses, large hands clamping onto your legs and pushing them back.

“Stay open for me, baby,” he growls. “Be good.”

He’s using you, grinding down in such a way that the ridge of his pelvic bone rubs against the peak of your sex. The room fills with his low rumbles, your sighs and the sound of him fucking into you over and over again. Wet. Squelching. Lewd. 

He covers you with his entire body, pins you to the floor as he splits you apart. “I’ll keep you safe,” he says softly before delivering a brutal snap of his hips that makes you choke. “Save you.”

It’s a strange confession when he’s slamming into you with such force that your head is knocking against cement. Every drag of his cock marks you in a new way. He’s too big. Too thick. When he kisses you, it’s like he’s trying to pierce your throat. His tongue slips over the roof your mouth, it tangles with yours until you submit. You’re dizzy with him, engulfed by the smoke-smell of his clothes and the metallic air of blood that surrounds you. 

You're dirty for this. Dirty for loving him kill even if it's for you.

For you. For. You.

It was a close call. Too close.

“I know, Joel,” you reply, gripping the back of his skull to keep him sealed to your front. “I know.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller imagine #tlou #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us

[sakurabl0ss0m]

Something going wrong and Joel using readers body to take out his frustration or blood lust 🤤

A/N: Joel Miller x F!Reader. floor smut. torture. dark vibes.

You feel it. 

It’s deep, scratching at your insides. The heat burrows so far it scorches the lining of your belly. 

Shameful.

But Joel knows. He lifts his head, molasses-black eyes sliding from your hitching chest to your burning hot face. He rips the knife from the man’s knee. The thing moans, twitches like a strummed guitar string, boots frantically scraping across blood-drenched cement. Then - it goes still. Dead.  It's done.

Joel says your name. It tumbles out, smacks the ground and hits you right between the legs. 

“Girl,” he warns. “You best leave if you don’t want it.”

You grin. It’s beyond your control. Your lips pull taut.

It. It. It. 

He shoots upward and storms toward you. He’s stained in red, curls wild and you react by stumbling backward. Your ass hits the ground hard before Joel is on top of you, climbing up your body. The knife clatters somewhere by your head. 

“You liked that.”

It’s a statement rather than a question. Joel says it as he undoes the button on your jeans, shucks the fabric down your legs. It’s freezing cold and your breath is visible - coming up fast and desperate. He uses the flat of his hand to drive your thighs apart, his calloused fingers slide through the folds of your cunt. You’re soaked and he grunts like he’s both pleased and somewhat surprised. 

He drops his mouth to your ear, whispers. “You’re fucked up.”

It’s so blunt that it slaps your clit. It breaks your fragile pieces open. You scramble for his shoulders, dig your nails into the back of his neck. You need every naked part of him he’s willing to give. You want to get his clothes off, but there’s no time. You hear the click of his belt buckle, the shifting denim fabric. He lowers his hips before shoving forward and then he’s inside you. It’s too much, stretching your cunt in half. He’s in your guts. Your lungs. His blood-slick palm slides over your belly as he thrusts up, the head of his cock punching against your womb because it’s meant to hurt. He wants it to sting-ache like a deep, unrelenting bruise. After one violent stroke that makes you whimper, your thighs close up, your knees locking against his hips. He hisses, large hands clamping onto your legs and pushing them back.

“Stay open for me, baby,” he growls. “Be good.”

He’s using you, grinding down in such a way that the ridge of his pelvic bone rubs against the peak of your sex. The room fills with his low rumbles, your sighs and the sound of him fucking into you over and over again. Wet. Squelching. Lewd. 

He covers you with his entire body, pins you to the floor as he splits you apart. “I’ll keep you safe,” he says softly before delivering a brutal snap of his hips that makes you choke. “Save you.”

It’s a strange confession when he’s slamming into you with such force that your head is knocking against cement. Every drag of his cock marks you in a new way. He’s too big. Too thick. When he kisses you, it’s like he’s trying to pierce your throat. His tongue slips over the roof your mouth, it tangles with yours until you submit. You’re dizzy with him, engulfed by the smoke-smell of his clothes and the metallic air of blood that surrounds you. 

You're dirty for this. Dirty for loving him kill even if it's for you.

For you. For. You.

It was a close call. Too close.

“I know, Joel,” you reply, gripping the back of his skull to keep him sealed to your front. “I know.”

[sakurabl0ss0m]

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it's me i am girls

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THE LAST OF US - BILL & FRANK

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There’s something horrifyingly beautiful about Tess’s final moments. In the midst of the most dire chaos, as she waits for her death to come rushing past so she can blow it sky high and give cordyceps a big fuck you one last time, one of the infected stops. It looks at her, really looks. Her own mortality is personified in this infected. It’s death that’s looking at her, and it sees her. She looks her own death in the eye, and the suspense is so high as it approaches. But then, it doesn’t bite her throat out like we all expect it to.

It kisses her. What’s more, it kisses her gently. And I think it was a brilliant choice on the writers part, because it reminded me that the infected aren’t supposed to be evil. Sure, they’re scary as hell, but really, they’re just trying to survive. They’re connected to one another, they can feel each other from miles away. They seek out and want to be close to their own kind, just like the human survivors do. And when they do find each other, they kiss hello.

And after so long apart from a loved one, someone you know and trust with every instinct in your body, wouldn’t you want to kiss them too?

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Pedro Pascal as Joel Miller in THE LAST OF US (2023) Official Trailer

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𝐌𝐮𝐥𝐞 || 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Summary: A betrayal causes both you and Joel to fight for your life.

Word Count: 5.1K!

CW: In order: Horror themes. Bodies. Gory imagery, fighting infected. Wearing Joel’s clothes. Fluffiest, softest, sappiest, most tooth rotting smut. Orgasm denial. Fingering. I have been a fan of the game for YEARS, given it is the first episode of TLOU TV I am basing most of Joel’s character off game Joel. Gif credit unknown.

Tease: “… You’re not wearin’ anythin’ under that, are you?” He whispers.

The static firework-like display of spores ejecting from the corpse slumped against the opposite wall had captured your attention despite the delicate situation you found yourself in. The tendrils of fungus creep up the walls, painting them with streaks of muted peaches and reds, not unlike human flesh. It bursts from the fruiting body as violently as a bomb going off. You suppose that’s what it is, a bomb detonating slowly, killing those that breathe in the cordyceps spores.

Your gas mask sits tight on your face, digging into the skin of your nose to effectively create an airtight seal to prevent the malignant disease from entering your lungs and turning you from the inside out. Even through the dirtied visor of your mask, you can see that the corpse has fused to the ground and wall it was once sat up against, calcifying to the brick and plaster. It’s reaching its final stages of the infection: complete takeover, encroaching upon any space it can find. You didn’t doubt that in 6 months it would fill the whole room.

Despite the crawling sensation that itches across your skin at the idea of fungus creeping from your body in the cover of darkness, you couldn’t deny the morbid beauty of the scene before you. It oddly reminds you of different breeds of coral, like the kind that clings to the Great Barrier Reef. There are tan-coloured, fan-like protrusions, long strands of crimson and tubal fungi that bust directly from the chest of the deceased. Silvery dust spores glisten under the beam of your flashlight, giving the abandoned house you had entered an almost glittery effect.

“Oi. C’mon.” Your smuggling partner's Texan typically cold baritone cuts through the uneasy hush in the room. “We stand in this shithole any longer and we’ll be ambushed.”

Peering up from the putrefied body, you find Joel Miller gazing back at you, jerking his head to the door in a silent order to urge you out of the rotten room. Stepping away from the body, you walk towards the exit.

“How much longer?” You ask, studying his weary expression. The two of you had been travelling for hours, on red alert for infected or human danger alike. Outside of the quarantine zone was a death trap, and Joel always insisted you both never get too comfortable. Always be cautious.

“Half an hour tops,” Joel rumbles, holding the door open as you step through. His hands smear it with blood as you walk by, the ghost of his fingerprints leaving ribbons of crimson against the surface.

The blood had belonged to a medicine dealer called Cain. Joel had been working for him, the two of you smuggling the precious supplies into the quarantine zones in return for ration cards and weapons. You and Joel must have made ten, hell, fifteen runs for this crooked fuck, only for Cain to send the two of you on a dodgy mission. You’d both been jumped by the middlemen who were meant to hand off the medicine- when under duress, they admitted to ‘just following orders’.

It hadn’t taken you both long to find Cain and took even less time to dispatch him. Joel had taken his time and, as always, you turned your back on the shrieks of agony as Joel delivered justice. Though he had been particularly brutal this time around, the crunching of bones and cartilage was loud enough to be heard over the dying screams.

Said cries of pain and the extended period of torture had drawn the attention of several Runners and Clickers. They’d overrun the smuggling tunnels somehow, obstructing your return to the quarantine zone and safety. It had been the fight of your life, and the two of you were damn near out of ammunition and energy to battle the waves of infected.

“You okay?” You croak, almost afraid to speak into the silence between the two of you as you stumble through the darkness, navigating using only the dying light of Joel’s torch. A small reprieve from the onslaught of runners.

“Yeah,” he grunts, his eyes drifting over in your direction. “Wanna get home. Think I hurt my ankle back there, fighting the clicker.” If it hurts enough to admit it, it must be bad. Yet Joel maintains a strong pace, refusing to allow the pain to slow him down. He was stubborn like that, the two of you always arguing about his thick-headed disposition.

You nod in silence, eyes on the floor and focusing on not tripping over loose bricks despite running this smuggling tunnel with Joel for years. It was probably so familiar that you could walk it blindfolded. The walls of this small passage had seen the slow and subtle changes in the dynamics of your relationship.

It had seen the beginnings of your partnership and witnessed you constantly vying for Joel’s approval to extend the coalition you had fought so hard to convince him for. The cracks in the walls had observed the slow-growing kinship between the two of you, jokes told and three-sentence conversations shared. The shards of glass swept into the corners of the floor had heard the difficulty you both had continuing those discussions after you had stupidly gotten drunk on this old whiskey Joel had found, kissing him in the early hours of the morning when he finally carried you to bed.

That was a few weeks ago, and he still hadn’t been able to maintain eye contact with you for more than a few seconds. Like a child unable to look into his mother's eyes when telling a lie.

Grabbing ahold of the cold handle of the metal door ahead of you, you force it down to open it. The door jams on the opposite side, not moving despite putting all of your weight behind it to the point the edges of the handgrip leave a rectangular imprint in your palm.

“Joel?” You call him, “Gonna need you to open this.”

“Yes Ma’am,” he responds, the same way he always has. He steps forward, the soles of his boots scuffing the floor as he approaches.

Joel shifts his shoulder against the flat of the door, hooking the handle downwards with his calloused, bloody palm and uses his strength to push against the blockage. The hinges of the door strain under the pressure, squealing in the silence as Joel grits his teeth.

He grunts loudly, heaving the door so the obstruction falls away from the entrance, clattering to the floor with a racket that ricochets off the wall. It echoes all the way down the corridor. You freeze, the deafening sound causing the hair on your forearms to stand on end.

The chill on your skin only intensifies with the blood-curdling groans that sound from the blackness.

“Fuck-“ you stammer, Joel’s hand quick to settle between your shoulder blades to push you forward through the open door. Adrenaline courses through you like a live wire, singeing your extremities and curdling your stomach as Joel forces his way through the door and pulls the pipe from his backpack.

Amongst the panic, you still manage to note that a metal storage unit that had once been set against the wall had been tipped on its side, forcing the door shut. Joel had used it just this morning to grab ammo before heading out for the medicine drop. Someone had forced it over- didn’t take a genius to figure out who.

“Gonna have to run,” Joel pushes you forward, causing your feet to stumble as you desperately grasp for your rudimentary shiv. It slices your fingers open as you grab for it in the darkness, terror pushing your body forward in a sprint. You can hear the thudding of Joel’s boots just behind you, and the screams and wails of the infected as you chase you down the tight corridors.

It feels as though seconds and hours pass simultaneously, your lungs burning as you suck in gasps of air through your gas mask. Your muscles are seizing, cramping up and your fingers sting with the cuts that you sustained from your blade. Over the all-encompassing sound of shrieking from the creatures and your sharp, shakey inhale, you can hear Joel urging you forwards. “Go Go Go! You got it darlin’ keep goi-“

It hits you like a runaway freight train at top speed. Thundering into you, a Clicker knocks you from your feet with an utterly horrifying scream. Pain shoots up your ribcage as you slam into the uneven floor, a discarded glass bottle shattering beneath your body and cutting into you. You’re scrabbling with the beast, its nails digging into your flesh as you stab blindly at its shoulder, your other palm on its sternum to hold it away from your throat while you scream for Joel.

“Joel, fuck!” You sob in fear, the clickers jaws gnashing at your exposed jugular, growling and snapping. In the pitch blackness, you can smell the damp, mouldy scent weeping from the fungus on its skin, the metallic, bloody twang of human meat on its tongue that wafts over your face as it heaves its breath onto you.

Your biceps scream under the strain of its weight as you feel the fungal growths on its face lightly brush at your throat as the creature goes in for the kill. Just as you feel its teeth skim your flesh, a sickening crunch sounds, and a hot splatter of viscous blood drenches your face as Joel removes the blade of the shiv he had plunged into its skull.

“Fuck, y’alright?” His gruff voice shouts over the din the approaching runners make from down the hall. He doesn’t really give you the chance to answer him, grabbing ahold of your hand and wrenching you out from underneath the limp body of the Clicker before pulling you along in a sprint.

You sob with relief as you both turn the corner to the exit. Joel wastes no time, running ahead to force the door open so it’s ready when you approach. It swings open so easily as if it senses your desperation, and you launch yourself into the safety of the building that serves as an entrance to the tunnel. Joel isn’t far behind, slamming the door shut on the hoard and bolting it shut with a thick wooden plank that you’d both been using as a stopper.

The room swims, the image of the door swirling in your vision as you lean your back against the wall, taking deep, heaving breaths in what both was an attempt to feed oxygen back to your lungs and also to alert your body to the fact you were alive.

You barely have a moment to thank God when Joel is on you in an instant.

“Good Christ,” he heaves his gas mask off his face, blood-soaked palms taking ahold of your chin as his deep, earthy irises flit over you, searching for damage with a panicked expression. You note it’s the longest he’s looked at you in weeks. “Sure you’re okay? Jesus fuck, I thought-“

He’s twisting your head from side to side, checking your throat for bites. The infected are pounding on the secured metal door, but the noise is drowned out, faded as you watch Joel tend to you. You like him this close, you can see the freckles under his eyes. You’re not sure whether it’s the adrenaline of survival or if there was a crack in your mask and the spores had driven you crazy, but you are almost certain that Andromeda lies somewhere within the constellation of the minute spots of melanin.

“Joel,” you whisper, breathless for a whole other reason than the fact you just fought for your life, “Joel, I’m okay.”

You watch your partner hesitate for a moment, checking over you one last time before setting his lips in a firm line, his panicked eyes growing protective in an instant. “Don’t fuckin’ scare me like that again. Y’hear?”

Cross-legged in Joel’s bathtub, hours after escaping the tunnels, you use rainwater and a sponge to scrub the Clicker blood from your skin. Even now, years after the outbreak, you found yourself silently pining to the walls in the bathroom for hot, running water. They were no genie, and never responded to your wishes, but your wordless complaints often made you feel better as you scrubbed cold water over your body.

The droplets are tinted maroon as they run down your legs, seeping down the drain beneath you as you meticulously work each disgusting patch of blood from your skin. Despite telling Joel that the Clicker hadn’t bitten you, it still came as a palpable relief to scrub away the grime and not see a single mark in the crescent shape of teeth anywhere.

You did, however, have some brutal cuts across your ribs from falling into the glass bottle in the tunnel. They’re like lightning slashes, open and sore as you run a fresh washcloth over the wounds. At the very least, they were superficial and didn’t need stitches. The last thing you needed was to be burdensome right now.

Stepping out of the bath, you wrap yourself in a towel, scrubbing at your face with your sore hands. At least the slices on your fingers from your blade had stopped weeping blood. You’re sore, and mildly damaged, but otherwise alive. Alive. The proof is in the reflection that stares back at you when you glance in the bathroom mirror. Though- you certainly look as though you had just stared death in the face.

You open the door of the bathroom slowly, tentatively stepping into Joel’s bedroom. He’s sitting on the bed, slowly easing his boot from his sore ankle with a hiss of complaint. It does look painful, swelling until the definition in the bone was encroached upon by inflammation, and you have no doubt it’s been throbbing with pain inside his boot the entire journey back home.

“I think you’ll need to take a break for a while,” you gently urge Joel from your place in the doorway, who nods simply in return. Yes, he was stubborn, sometimes downright pigheaded, but he would never be stupid enough to go outside hindered by an injury. There were more than enough ration cards to tide you both over until Joel was fit enough to do another run safely.

“You can- uh, grab some’a my clothes from my closet, if you need,” he rumbles, moving to untie the boot on his other foot and avoiding your gaze. “Don’t want you to have’ta put your clothes back on. They’re covered in clicker brains.”

“Thanks, Joel,” you whisper, despite the shiver of disgust that runs down your spine. Slowly padding your bare feet across his wooden floor, you approach his closet. All of the shirts and flannels he owns are thread-bare, soft to the touch from wear. You grasp at a grey and black flannel, dropping the towel to the floor as you pull the comfortable clothing over your head.

Joel is silent, his back turned to you as you dress. Perhaps it’s from years of knowing him, or it’s seeing how tight the muscles of his back are through the fabric of his shirt, but you know something is amiss. The discontent rolls off him in waves.

Wordlessly, you climb onto the mattress, approaching Joel from behind. He seems to tense up further, even if momentarily before his muscles ease again. You stay seated firmly behind him, just outside of his peripheral vision as you attempt to breach the topic of conversation in a way that the stubborn mule of a man won’t shut down.

“Is it the pain?” You ask delicately, voice soft as a feather as you watch him feel his swollen ankle with the tips of his fingers.

“No. No, it ain’t, I just-“ he exhales sharply, as though he’s urging the words from his mouth, expelling them from his lungs. “No I just really thought that I’d lost you for a minute there, ‘n’ I just…” He trails off, leaving the unspoken words to admit what he couldn’t.

That he couldn’t bear to lose you.

You nod slowly, despite knowing he can’t see you, as the realisation sets in. He cares about you more than he shows, more than he lets on.

Softly, you lay your palm against his back, between his shoulder blades. In the low light of the bedroom, Joel’s silver hairs gleam as he turns his head around to look at you. You feel his nerves before you see them, feel the shaky exhale he lets out against your hand.

“I’m still here,” you whisper to him, capturing his gaze as you attempt to bring him down from the fear that must have seized him. You drag your palm down his back slowly, and in turn, he leans his body towards you at an achingly slow pace. Your stomach is doing somersaults thanks to the way he gazes at you, watching the nervous trail of your tongue over your lower lip.

“I know,” he answers back, his gruff voice so much softer sounding in this fragile moment. He inches towards you, and you can see the fine creases in the edges of his eyes, the constellations of his freckles even in the limited lighting. “I know I just-… Wanna feel it.”

It’s almost as though there’s a static moment, fizzling in the air as the tip of his nose brushes yours. He parts his lips softly, ghosting them over your own in a touch CW that’s barely there but sets your blood ablaze. His breath, exhaled through his nose, tickles your red-hot cheeks and you grip onto his t-shirt until your knuckles turn white. You wait for the plunge, for the powder keg of your heart lodged between your ribs to burst with his kiss.

Cautiously, Joel touches his lips to yours in a kiss that sparks up your spine. His lips are slightly chapped, his moustache and beard scraping gently against your skin as you lean into the kiss, letting out a soft moan of relief.

Your fingertips are tingling as you brush them up Joel’s neck, cupping his face to hold him there. He’s so gentle with you, like he’s afraid you’ll turn to dust in his hands. Joel has lived the past 20 years surviving, trying so desperately to stay alive. You’re not sure what that meant for him- the horrid things he had to do- but in this moment he’s so delicate with you, his knuckles brushing across your jaw as if those same fingers hadn’t squeezed triggers for two decades.

Working your own fingers into his curls, you feel the vibrations of Joel’s moans against your lips. It isn’t overtly sexual, it’s as though it’s a sound of comfort- of appreciation for being shown some tenderness. He responds to your touches by tracing his tongue over your lower lip, deepening the kiss and pulling you closer.

“Joel,” you whisper against his open mouth. He’s panting softly, hands moving to your hips to hold you in place like he’s afraid you’ll pull away. “Joel, lay back.”

“… Yes Ma’am,” he murmurs, a hint of a smile spreading against your lips. You find yourself relieved he didn’t argue, finding this nerve-wracking enough. It’s as though the two of you are inexperienced teenagers, fumbling with each other and fighting the butterflies in your guts. As brutal as the world you both fought to survive in was, there’s an innocence settling between you, nervous laughs shared as Joel lays back slowly against the pillows.

He gazes back at you as the crown of his head settles, holding his breath as he awaits your next move. Swallowing thickly, you watch Joel’s hand slowly reach for your knee. He swirls his thumb in uneven circles over your patella, gently coaxing you out of your shell. “You good, darlin’?”

“Yeah,” You whisper breathlessly, the soft and innocent touch leaving tingles in its wake. “Yeah ‘m fine.”

Joel, the hardened bastard that he is, doesn’t give much away. However, you see the edge of his lips lilt upwards at your less-than-convincing answer sliding his palm up the bare skin of your thighs. His hands are warm, calloused from hauling ass across the country and slicing open Clicker throats to protect you.

Swallowing thickly, you loop your thigh over his hip to straddle his waist. He watches you, his dark lashes dipping low as he witnesses you seat yourself across his abdomen. As you sit, the leather of Joel’s belt bites into the soft skin of your flesh.

“… You’re not wearin’ anythin’ under that, are you?” He whispers. It’s less of a question than it is a statement, those dark, mahogany eyes gazing up at you with a knowing expression. It’s intimidating, and you find yourself unable to answer with anything other than a slow shake of your head.

Joel responds with a low chuckle, tutting slightly as he brushes his palms further up your legs. They disappear under the worn fabric of his flannel, settling against your hip bones as his fingertips brush the curve of your bare ass.

Ever the gentleman, Joel stills his movements there and awaits your next orders, his eyelids heavy. You let a shaky breath escape your lips despite trying so hard to appear cool and collected, and you can practically feel the amusement emanating from the man beneath you.

Taking control, you trace the hem of Joel’s shirt and ease your fingers beneath it. Again, he’s warm to the touch, a human bonfire. It reminds you of the same level of comfort, the heat of the flames licking the skin of your cheeks in the cold autumnal air and providing relief from the numbing chill.

You don’t rush this, dragging the shirt from his body achingly slowly. Scars litter Joel’s skin, silver against the melanin. Sometimes large, wide and brutal across his ribs, others small and circular, barely noticeable. You notice them. You love them all.

Joel lifts his arms for you to raise the fabric over his head, and you reward him by pressing gentle kisses to the exposed skin of his neck. He hums softly at the gentle touches of your lips, his fingertips squeezing into the soft flesh of your hips. You’re almost certain he can feel the way you’re smiling.

“Mhm, Darlin’” he grumbles softly, using his hold on you to slowly grind your hips down over the soft flesh of his stomach, angled perfectly. It causes you both to stutter to a halt, your own pause caused by the spark of arousal that blooms through your abdomen at the friction to your clit.

Joel slowly uses one of his hands to grab the back of his flannel that you wear, sitting you up. His irises are inky black as he looks up at you, startling you into submission. Stoic, he says nothing, but looks pointedly down at his stomach to divert your attention. Uncertain, you follow his gaze.

It’s utterly mortifying. Across the tanned, freckled skin of his stomach is a silvery-pink scar. Following the same direction, a wet steak of your slick traces where Joel had pushed your hips down onto him. Shock and humiliation flood you all at once.

“Oh my God, Jo-! I’m so sorry-,” you stammer quickly, but Joel is grabbing ahold of the collar of his flannel with both hands, using very little of his impressive strength to pop the buttons on the stupid thing. The buttons go flying, rattling as they roll across the wooden floor and banging as they ping off the wardrobe. He exposes your breasts to his eyes, drinking in the view like he does whenever he sees a beautiful sunset while smuggling across the state. He stops and stares and takes it all in, just like he does with you.

“Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry about,” he insists, not allowing you to feel embarrassed a moment longer as he uses his grip once again to push your hips against him. Perhaps it’s the shock of his unfiltered satisfaction, or the arousal he draws from you once again, but you don’t find yourself fighting with him. Instead, you lean your head back as he directs your body exactly where he wants it, pushing your cunt against him and drawing delicious swirls of pleasure throughout your abdomen.

“That’s it Darlin’. Just relax,” he murmurs, clearly pleased as you begin to match his movements by rolling your hips along with his touch. Your palms rest against his muscular pectorals, nails digging in whenever he catches your clit just right. Sometimes he hisses in pain, sometimes he groans in delight.

The muscles of your thighs clench against his waist as the walls of your cunt flutter around nothing. Your jaw is slack, your mouth falling open as you crease your brows together and feel the surge.

“Fuck,” you hear Joel curse, the gravel of his voice tipping you ever closer, “I can feel your pulse.” He sounds incredulous.

“D-Don’t-“ you gasp, teetering on the edge of an utterly devastating orgasm. Your eyes are squeezed shut, focusing on that feeling that barely holds the seams of your soul together when he shocks you completely, using his strength to lift your hips from him just as your release bubbles up.

A sound of utter anguish reaches your ears, and it takes a moment for the pulse of your heart in your ears to subside before you realise it came from you. Joel is chuckling, kissing your trembling hands in an uncharacteristically soft move. Though- you suppose all of this is out of character.

“Nuh-uh,” Joel chastises you gently, in an almost mocking tone. He’s enjoying seeing you fall to pieces for him, even if it is just because you look so pretty over him. “I want you to look at me. Want to see it in your eyes when you cum.”

“Joel,” you wail, in utter disbelief as he shakes his head at your complaint. He’s not listening. Instead, he draws tight circles on the inside of your thigh. His touch is wet, your slick drenching the inside of your legs and showing how desperate you are if your impassioned whining wasn’t enough to convince him of your need to come undone.

“Listen here, Darlin,” he orders in that same tone he uses when on supply runs, the kind that makes you warm and fuzzy, “I ain’t gonna ask you to do nothin’ for me. Want you to feel good. The least you can give me is that pretty face.”

You swallow again, like you’re parched and only he can quench your desperation. Silently, in bitter defeat, you resign to a nod.

“Yeah?” He urges, wanting to hear you say it.

“Yeah,” you choke out.

“Good girl.”

Again, you moan out like you’re in pain, Joel rewarding your vulnerability by slowly slipping two fingers into your drenched cunt. You’re so worked up, so slick he doesn’t need to open you up. Your cunt takes the intrusion of his digits greedily, and your thighs begin to shake at the intense relief it grants you.

Agonisingly slowly, Joel eases his fingers out of you before plunging them back in. He doesn’t need to go fast, the drawn-out drags of his fingertips against the walls of your cunt enough to work up your arousal, but you know that he’s setting this pace to watch the micro-expressions on your face.

Your brows pinch together, and your lips form subtle shapes that indicate his technique is working. He’s watching your pupils dilate, your nostrils flare as you inhale sharply when he touches that spot inside you that makes your vision go fuzzy.

“Joel,” you wheeze, the dexterity of his fingers driving you very quickly to the precipice of something soul-shattering. The pads of his finger focus on that spot that makes your body tremble, and you’re sobbing above him, tears streaking your face. “Oh God, Joel, I can’t last-“

“It’s okay,” he urges you, so calm that he almost appears lazy as he curls his fingers inside you. “You know what to do.”

The bastard hurls you over the edge of the cliff he’s built for you, pushing the pad of his thumb against your clit. The most intense burst of pleasure explodes beneath your skin, streaming through your blood vessels as your body crumbles inwards. You’re not sure if he’s even circling your clit, if he’s moving his fingers because it’s so visceral that you can’t see, can’t hear, don’t experience anything other than the liquid heat that drips through you.

When you come to, Joel is humming softly, stroking his palm over the back of your head and easing you down from the clouds he sent you to with a gentle touch. You’re lying across his chest, his arms seemingly having pulled you against him during your blinding relief. You’re sticky with sweat, as though you’re coated in honey.

Joel smells like the apocalypse. Like earth and mud that has been wet with rain. The sharp smell of gunpowder clings to his skin, having coated the shirt he wore only minutes before. There’s the musk of his sweat, the tang that sticks to his skin despite the rain that you had walked home in after leaving the tunnels. It had washed away the smell of the blood and the grime but left every part of Joel.

“Oh fuck,” you choke out, and Joel can’t help but chuckle at the way you sound so fucked out. He presses a gentle kiss to your temple as he soothes your aching muscles from their contractions.

The rise and fall of his chest ease you down from your heightened state of shock, and your partner slowly peels the destroyed flannel from your skin. The thin bed sheets float across your body to give you some privacy, Joel wanting you to feel comfortable and respected despite him utterly destroying you literally moments before.

“That good, mhmm?” It’s said with Joel’s typically flat intonation, but you know he’s amused.

“Shut up Joel,” you whisper, still breathless. God, had he just stolen the air from your lungs? It’s as though every functioning part of your body has stalled, taken up entirely with bliss.

“Hell, you’re stubborn,” he mumbles, and it’s like he puts a spark up your ass, body jolting into action.

“Excuse me?! I’m stubborn-?!”

END

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[sakurabl0ss0m]

✨✨

[sakurabl0ss0m]

A white picket fence and a peach tree

Pairing: Joel Miller x housewife!reader

A/N: I’m a whore and can’t wait for smut for my other fic so enjoy this one shot. Chowing down on Pedro Pascal rn.

Synopsis: you’re Joel’s little housewife, the one who insisted on picking the house with the peach tree in the yard, the one who makes peach pie for him in the summers to let him know when you appreciate his work… recently though, Joel’s been craving a different kind of pie as a reward

Warnings: Porn with Plot, cream pie, breeding kink, you’re a housewife who knows her way around a gun or two, manhandling, possessive!Joel, submissive!reader, praise kink, fucking in the kitchen, fucking on the wall, oral(f! And M! Receiving), a bit of overstimulation

It was at times like this where Joel found himself rushing, sat on Old Beardie, his stallion, the gated walls of Jackson in his sight. He set Beardie at a full gallop, his thoughts filled with you, his sweet wife, probably sitting on the porch, sewing up the jacket he’d torn last week on a run, or in the kitchen, cooking up one of those peach pies you seemed to love making so much. As he got into town, he patted Beardie on the maw, kissing the horses side of his head before he made a beeline for his home.

——————————————

You’d claimed the home from the moment you’d seen it, empty. It was a fixer upper at the time… but your husband was an ex-construction worker and his favorite pass-time was making you happy, so he’d immediately gotten to work fixing it up, helping you make the house a home.

“Joel- that one…” you’d whispered from your place beside him as the two of you were assimilated into the culture of Jackson. You’d pointed to the house and the man had chuckled

“Sweetpea, there’s a perfectly good house just across the stree-…” his sentence trailed off when he looked down at you and saw the way your brows furrowed and he sighed “but… s’pose I’ll be needing a couple projects to pass time…” and he couldn’t help the rate of his heart when your smile returned

——————————————

So there he stood, at what was now the nicest place in town, the Miller residence, with a big wraparound porch, a white picket privacy fence, and a powdered green color with white trim.

He made his way through the gate, shutting it behind him and sighing in relief as he got inside, wiping off his boots and hanging up his coat, kicking off the aforementioned boots and finding you in the kitchen, humming quietly to yourself, you were clad in a sundress, the natural summer sun came in waves into the big window of the kitchen, illuminating you in a golden glow as he approached, not daring to disturb the beautiful scene that folded out in front of him as you pulled a peach pie from the oven, sighing contently.

The man cleared his throat as you set the pie on the windowsill to cool, causing you to turn, surprised before a grin spread to your lips “Joel…” you said breathlessly and drew close to him, gently taking his bag from him and setting it down on the counter, not minding the bit of dirt on him as you leaned up and kissed him lovingly, your fingers gently tangling in his salt and peppered hair, only to laugh as you pulled away, shaking your head, rubbing your chin where his scruffle had tickled you

“Joel miller, you go up and shower right now so you can sit down properly” you chided playfully, and the man sighed lowly, meeting you with a silent protest, his face hiding in your neck

“Don’t you meet me with those puppy eyes, Texas…” you said, your resolve obviously wavering as you returned his tight embrace “you can love on me all you want just as soon as you get all that dirt offa you” you said quietly and he nodded slowly

“Anything for you peach… just can’t help it. Haven’t seen you in a dress like this in…” he trailed off

“Years.” You finished, gently prying him off of you, smacking his backside “giddy-up, Texas. I’ll have a big slice of pie for you when you get back”

“Yes ma’am” he chuckled and made his way back to the bathroom to shower.

———————————————

When he returned, fresh shaven, though keeping that scruffle he knew you loved, he smiled at the sigh of you, yet again, your hands busied shaking a jar, presumably filled with cream and sugar, his eyes fixed on the way it made your skirt ride up, and he felt himself harden in his jeans and he hummed, his hands finding your hips from behind and grinding himself into your ass, causing you to gasp in surprise and nearly drop the jar

“Oh! Joel, you gotta stop scaring me…” you whispered softly, leaning your head back to look at your now squeaky clean lover, now clad in jeans and your favorite shirt of his, a denim one that he rolled up his forearms

“Well don’t you clean up nice, Tex..!” You smiled sweetly as you turned to get a better look at him only for his erection to grind harder into your hip causing you to purse your lips and set the jar to the side

“Hate to ruin yer dinner plans, peach, but I need somethin’ else to eat tonight…” he said lowly, his voice in a low grumble as he picked you up and simply sat you on the counter, between your legs, causing your skirt of your dress to ride up further, revealing your cute little daisy patterned lace panties.

The man chuckled lowly, spotting the little wet spot on them and quickly pulled them down your legs “good girl, being so ready for me” the man all but fell to his knees, pulling your legs over his shoulders, his head burrowed between your thighs

You only got a glance at the heavenly sight that was Joel Miller’s head between your thighs before your eyes suddenly clamped closed in pleasure as he took to sucking on your clit, your back arching needily at the near-desperate feeling of him eating you out “sh-shit! Joel…!” You mewled out, your thighs tightening around his head causing him to groan in appreciation against your clit, his hand weaseling into the mix as two thick fingers—one of which bore a simple gold band, his wedding ring— plunged into you deliciously deep, and you couldn’t help the positively desperate moan you let out, your head falling back helplessly as his free hand held you stubbornly to his face as he nearly devoured you whole.

He occasionally let his tong dip down, lapping at your arousal, and he pulled back for a glimpse of a second to speak “ya taste just as sweet as those peaches, doll…” he groaned, breathing labored before continuing to eat you out with a renewed vigor

With this renewed vigor, your moans increased in pitch, you hands scrambling to grasp at something- anything “Joel- Joel..! Joel!!” You gasped out helplessly, your words echoing your thoughts, which currently were filled by him, the way he ate you put, the way his fingers dug into your pliant hip, the way his calloused fingers felt as they brushed against that spongy spot inside of you, over and over again as your legs jittered and shook with ecstasy as that knot in your stomach finally snapped, as you came.

The man between your thighs simply lapped up your arousal, his beautiful nose nudging against your clit has he did so, causing you to cry out in overstimulation as he cleaned you up with his mouth, finally pulling away when your hands, tangled in his hair pulled his head back

Joel chuckled lowly “good girl… so good for me, huh? What’d I ever do to deserve such a sweet little lady..?” He asked lowly, only to laugh as you suddenly pulled him up from his spot on the floor to kiss him, himself stumbling to follow your silent order to ‘shut up and kiss me’. You didn’t care that you could taste yourself on his lips, in fact that’s what motivated you to repay the favor, hopping off the counter and quickly leading him off, towards your bedroom

Your legs were weak though and you relented to let them rest, instead gently pushing him to the wall and falling to your knees, humming appreciatively as you ran your hand up and down his cock through his jeans, your cheek pressed lazily to his thigh as you did so

“Shit-.. now baby, don’t be mean to me, you know how I feel about you teasing..” he said lowly, eyes dark as he looked down at you, your big eyes peeking up at him and you pressed a kiss to the obvious bulge in his jeans, before your fingers elegantly got them undone, gently shucking them down his legs along with his boxers, smiling as his cock sprang free, fully hard.

The weight of his cock was enough to weigh it down slightly, even fully hard, long and girth and perfect, pre come leaking down the vein that appeared just below his tip, on the underside of the length. You wanted to lick it up.

And so you did.

Your tongue licked a long stripe up his shaft, catching the precum that had dropped down, oh so temptingly, before—without warning—you took him completely in your mouth, down your throat without warning, causing the man to stumble, needing to steady himself against the wall as you swallowed around him. He groaned out your name loudly, his head falling against the wall with a dull ‘thump’.

His hands grasped at your hair to ground himself “shit, baby…” he sighed lowly, swallowing his own spit “gonna guide you, okay baby? You can take it, right?” A dumb little nod was his only response “good…”

And with that, the man throughly throat fucked you. You braced yourself, pressing your hands to his thighs, never pushing away, just supporting yourself as he fucked his cock down your throat, simply reaming your poor air passage, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you felt his twitch in your throat

After a bit, you pushed yourself off, one hand coming to replace your mouth “joel-“ you panted, struggling to catch your breath “need you to cum down my throat-“ you whimpered, your tone pleading and your eyes took to the form of that of a doe’s as you looked up at him. drool and precum dribbled down your chin. It was like you needed his cum in you like you needed air

“I can do that, pretty lady, just get those lips back around my cock and let me to all the work…” he said lowly, and yet again a dumb nod was his only answer as you wrapped your lips back around his cock and let him fuck your throat. He pulled your head back and forth intensely, at an inhuman speed which left you disoriented and struggling to focus as he groaned out your name, soon coming down your throat, his grip on your hair tightening causing a pleasant sting of pain to shoot through you

Soon, he pulled you off of him with a quiet but clear ‘pop’ and panted lowly. There was a moment of peaceful silence as both of you regained your breath.

Joel was the one to break the silence “good, doll? All tuckered out?” He asked, and when you shook your head his eyebrows shot up into his hairline “no?” He asked quietly

“Mm-mm…” you hummed, shaking your head “I need you inside of me- I need you to cum in me…” you whimpered pitifully

The man scooped you up quickly, holding you to him, already hard again against you, going up to your room, two stairs at a time and laying you down

“You can’t just- fuck- shit— lift your hips doll—“ he tapped your hip twice and when you obeyed a pillow was placed under them “say shit like that and not mean it, doll, cuz if you meant that, you better not have plans for the next nine months” he muttered, ripping your dress of off you, shucking his own clothes off, revealing that toned, scarred body you loved so dearly

“Meant it, Joel..” you whimpered “all I’ve been able to think about for a while- dreamt about it…“ you said, no hint of lying in your words as he climbed between your legs, throwing your legs over his shoulders

“Well buckle up, baby, because that dream is about to become a reality…” he said lowly, his grin wolfish, nearly predatory as he pushed himself into you, stretching you thoroughly open around him as he sheathed himself fully into you, hardly giving you time to process what was happening before he was pistoning in and out of you, like your request had unlocked some higher purpose in him. A mission. He needed to get you pregnant. Now.

He fucked you into the mattress, your thighs pressed against you, your hands held by his at your sides as he fucked into you with the vigor of a wild animal, simply destroying you for anyone else as he stretched you out with his cock “good girl- so good for me… take me so good…” he groaned

You could hardly utter a response, not able to form a full sentence, but most of what you had to say in response to his dirty talking was his name. He reached between the two of you and rubbed your clit harshly bringing you to a sudden orgasm as he fucked you raw.

The man picked up his pace even further as he twitched inside of you “shit- baby- gonna cum, need you to stay on the pillow, I can’t waste a drop, got it? If you lose a drop I’m just gonna fuck it back in there…” he chuckled lowly and you nodded dumbly, completely drunk, intoxicated even by the man on top of you

Soon he spilled into you, painting the walls of your pussy white, groaning g loudly as he did so. He fell slack against you for a moment, not that you minded. The man remained there for a moment, grounding himself before he slowly pulled back, sitting up on his knees and pulling out of you, eying your cunt, which clenched from time to time around nothing, seemingly missing his cock filling it, but not a drop slipped free causing him to grin and take his place next to you “good girl…” he whispered lowly, his eyes fluttering closed as he pulled you close, making sure your hips remained propped up.

You hummed quietly and pressed a few kisses to his jaw and neck, and then lips “thank you, Tex…” you whispered lowly, voice now hoarse from all that meaning

He chuckled lowly “any time, Peach” he said lowly. And he meant it.

Tag list:

@teacupcollector @toobsessedsstuff @targazyen @zeida @amethystwonders11 @technicallykawaiisoul

[sakurabl0ss0m]

SOFT KISSES, QUIET EVENINGS | JOEL MILLER

Joel Miller x female!reader

Summary: An unlucky incident brings you and Joel closer together. After that, you continue to find peace and pleasure with him. (Pre-Outbreak!)

Request: Can you please make like one shot smut with pre-outbreak joel with reader.

Warnings: alcohol consumption, swear words, unprotected p in v, oral sex (female receiving), creampie, some very light dirty talk, mostly fluff

Words: 4.6k

A/N: I am so gone for this man... and this request just turned into something fluffy with some smut in between. I hope you can enjoy!

Masterlist | Request

You had met Joel on your way to work one day. Recalling it in your mind, it reminded you of the few rom-coms you had watched together on different occasions. The ones Sarah would always shake her head at and Joel would also just grumpily watch them with you – they made you happy, so he was willing to endure them. 

There were a few things that Joel was doing for you, just for you, but never once had he thought that it hadn’t been worth it. He got up earlier than he had to in the morning when there was the promise of seeing you sooner. He watched silly rom-coms with you, picked up your favourite food from another city, denied himself sleep when you wanted to read a little longer at night. 

Thinking back, you never would have expected all of this to come from such a small incident. Maybe in another life you would have driven home that day and never talked again, but somehow things ended up being different. 

That fateful day, your car had broken down in the middle of the road to work. You cursed and hit the steering wheel a few times, knowing you would be too late now. You had already been late to begin with, but you could have made it to work with a bit of luck. Now that luck had run out and you were stuck here. The car didn’t turn on anymore and when you opened the door to inspect it from the outside, you also spotted the tire that was certainly not going to bring you to work anymore. 

You didn’t even have a spare one with you. Not that it would change anything if the car didn’t turn on anymore to begin with. 

How were you going to explain this to your boss? You couldn’t. There was no way he would accept this ‘excuse’ for being late to work. You could feel your throat getting tighter with every second you spent looking at your car – that wasn’t moving anywhere anymore. 

A quick glance to your watch told you that you didn’t even have time to catch the bus anymore. The next one would only arrive at the next bus stop in an hour. And by the time you would arrive at work, it would be late enough for your boss to probably legally be allowed to murder you. 

“Fuck,” you hissed, giving the flat tire a kick, knowing that it couldn’t get any worse. It was already at the end of its life, a small kick to let some of your frustration out wouldn’t change anything anymore. 

“I don’t think the tire deserves that kind of hate, Miss.” 

You turned around when you heard a deep voice behind you. A man was standing there, hands in pockets, the once blue T-Shirt now stained with what you assumed was dirt. His hands were also smeared with dirt and you could also spot some on his cheek, just above the beard around his jaw. The man looked tired to you, but he was carrying a slight smile around on his lips. You didn’t quite understand what was so amusing about your situation. Nothing. Nothing was amusing and you were in trouble.

“Well, I think it does! I’m stuck here, because the engine won’t turn on anymore,” you grumbled, not caring enough to hide any of your frustration. The stranger had already seen it anyway when you had so rudely kicked against your tire. 

“Can I have a look at it or do you want to keep hitting that tire until it maybe… falls off?” He asked, raising his eyebrows ever so slightly. You opened your mouth to respond, but didn’t quite find the words. It seemed like he was making fun of your situation, but he had offered to help all the same. You would be a fool to turn it down. 

“Well, if you want to,” you mumbled, before clearing your throat. You suspected that the man didn’t hear you, but he soon moved towards your car, walking right past you and taking a closer look at the tire. “This one needs to be replac-“

“No shit.” You were quick to reply. That flat tire could be seen from a mile away. Of course, it needed to be replaced. 

A moment later you already felt guilty. Just because everything was awful today didn’t mean that you could talk like this to a stranger that was offering his help to you. Without you even asking him in the first place. 

“I’m sorry…” you mumbled. The man turned around to look at you again for a moment. He didn’t seem to be upset which let some weight fall off your shoulders. “It’s alright. I can tell it hasn’t been a good day so far,” he shrugged. 

You watched his broad shoulders move up and down. He was really attractive, even with the dirty clothing and dirt-covered hands. The man was crouching down in front of the car and seemed to think for a moment. “I can get you that one replaced, definitely,” he announced, standing up again. 

He walked around the car then, opening the hood of the car and having a closer look at the engine. You knew you were just awkwardly standing around, but at the moment, you were just grateful someone was helping you out here. The man looked like he knew what he was doing or he at least knew more than you about this problem. 

“Can you do anything or is it a hopeless case? I really need to get to work, but the next bus comes in an hour.” You tried to explain your situation some more. Not that it would accelerate anything. Maybe you just wanted to make sure that the stranger knew why you were so frustrated in the first place. “I see…” he mumbled as a response while he reached into the car, tugging on a few cords. “I think I need a moment with this. I could drive you to work though, before I properly start to repair this.”

Driving to work with a stranger? That seemed like a good idea to get murdered. 

“I don’t drive to work with strangers. I don’t even get into a car with strangers.” To be fair, you sounded like a little kid, reciting what their parents had told them about not leaving with strangers. 

“I always tell my daughter that as well. Don’t get into a car with someone you don’t know. Don’t talk to strangers.” The man gave you another shrug and then closed the hood of the car. “I’m Joel and what’s your name? Maybe we aren’t strangers anymore.” 

It was clever, you had to admit that. There was a silence resting between the two of you for a moment. Were you going to take the risk and let this stranger drive you to work? You had never heard of someone going missing in your town. You trusted most of the people here. 

“I’m Y/N. I could use a ride.”

That ride had changed your life. You couldn’t remember ever having a conversation as good as the one you had with Joel on your way to work. The fear of your boss even subsided with every new topic you two came up with. Everything seemed fine, even though nothing had been fine half an hour earlier. 

Numbers were exchanged, the first bricks were being set for something bigger. 

You were experiencing that ‘bigger’ thing now. 

Sarah was having a sleepover at a friend’s today, so Joel had invited you over to spend the night there. You didn’t move in together yet, it was still too early for that. You had talked about it already though, especially since it would also be a change for Sarah if you permanently moved in with them. 

You got along well with Sarah. Really well. You loved to watch shows and movies with her, bake with her or just play a board game or two. Every day spent with the girl was a great one and you started to see her like your own child with time. You hadn’t mentioned that to Joel yet though. Maybe your feelings were all over the place and it was way too early to say anything like that about his daughter. But one thing was sure – Sarah had a special place in your heart already.

Joel and you had agreed that you would pick up some food on your way to his house. He would come in late from work and wouldn’t have any time to cook, so you agreed on getting Chinese takeout. By the time you arrived at his home, his truck was already parked in front of the house, the lights from the kitchen shining into the front yard. A smile appeared on your lips as soon as you stopped your car and got the plastic bag from the back seat. 

After you rang the doorbell, it didn’t even take two minutes for Joel to appear in front of you. He leaned against the door slightly, grin on his face and joy in his eyes. You loved to see him like this. It was your favourite sight in the world, to be honest. 

He was wearing his sweat pants and a soft-looking blue sweater on top of it. Unlike your first meeting, his hands were clean except for a trace of what looked like pudding. He probably used the opportunity to enjoy some sweets for himself, now that Sarah was out for the night. 

“Already claimed the pudding from Monday?” You asked with a smile, feeling a warmth spread throughout your entire body. This felt like coming home. Arriving on his doorstep, being invited inside and exchanging a kiss or two on your way to the kitchen. All of this felt like coming home and not just visiting. Maybe one day this would be your home and you wouldn’t have to leave after the weekend. You didn’t say any of this out loud, but silently hoped that Joel maybe felt the same. Or thought about the same things, imagined them. 

“Of course I did. It knew it wouldn’t survive another day if I didn’t,” your boyfriend explained, a small laugh following his words. His laugh sounded like music in your ears, soothing you and relieving you of all the stress that followed you throughout the day. 

You took two plates out of the cupboard above the stove, moving your food from the takeout boxes to proper plates. “They didn’t have your favourite anymore, but I got whatever was closest to that,” you explained while also arranging some cutlery for you two. 

After moving everything to the small kitchen table, you sat down next to Joel. This specific chair had become your spot over the last few months. You would always sit here and whenever you weren’t there, no one else would sit in this spot. 

“I missed you,” Joel smiled at you, reaching over to briefly brush over the back of your hand with his thumb. It caused a tingling sensation to run through your entire arm. Every touch by him had this effect on you. Nothing had changed since your first date. All the feelings were still as intense, still coursing through your entire body. Joel occupied your mind for the whole day. 

“I missed you too. A lot,” you replied with a smile on your lips. 

While you two were talking about your day, eating your food and just enjoying the time together, you felt all the stress of the day falling from your shoulders. You started to feel relaxed, relieved to be here and just at home. Joel had become your home, just like Sarah had. There was no other place you’d rather be than here, at this small kitchen table, eating Chinese takeout before you would spend the night together on the couch, watching movies and chatting about your day. 

When you were both done with the food, you took both of your plates and put them into the dishwasher, together with the forks. Joel was walking around the kitchen behind you, getting out two wine glasses from a cup board and filling them with a red wine he had picked out earlier already. After work, he headed down into the basement and got out one of the good ones. Tommy had recently bought a whole box of very cheap red wine which did not taste good at all. Joel was sure he still had that taste in his mouth two days later – which was not a good sign. He wouldn’t let you drink that awful beverage. 

After filling both of the wine glasses, he put one down on the counter in front of you, before wrapping one arm lazily around your waist as he approached you from behind. His chin rested on your shoulder, breath brushing past your neck and leaving a trail of goosebumps to run down your spine. His soft lips planted a feather-like kiss on your neck as he pressed himself closer against you, humming slightly. “I’m glad we’ve got a night alone here,” he whispered, his voice deep and raspy. 

You slowly picked up the glass in front of you, taking a sip from the very good wine. You could already feel yourself getting excited at the small touches Joel was offering. Your heartbeat was picking up and the smile couldn’t be brushed off your face anymore. “I’m glad about that too. Leaves us with a lot of time…” you replied, keeping your voice down and glancing over to where Joel was resting his head. 

His arm tightened around your waist, fingers spreading over your tummy as he pulled you against him. You could feel his chest pressing against your back, just like the beginning of his arousal could be felt against your butt.

He took another sip from his glass of wine, before placing it down on the counter, ready to give his full attention to you now. His other arm wrapped around you as well while he continued to plant kisses on your neck. He sometimes stayed for longer in the same spot, making sure to nib on the sensitive skin, maybe leaving the faintest bit of red. 

You finished your glass of wine in one go then, also disposing of it on the counter before you completely leaned into Joel’s touches and the way he was sending shivers through your body. You started to feel the wetness between your legs already when Joel was focusing on your neck. 

His fingers soon slipped under the waistband of your pants, eventually your panties as well. You let out a small gasp, but your hips moved forward to press against his touch. You wanted more. You needed more.

His middle finger found your clit quite easily, just slowly moving over it in circles. A shiver went through your legs, but Joel held you tightly against him as he continued to rub your clit slowly. You grew more and more wet, more and more desperate for his touch. For some kind of relief, especially when he started to move his finger faster and faster. 

His name fell of your lips in as gasp, a low chuckle coming from your boyfriend in response. “I think we should move to the couch, honey,” he suggested, slowly taking his hand out of your pants. “Then I can actually help you out.”

The thought alone sent another shiver down your spine. You loved to be intimate with Joel, loved how he made your entire body feel. You felt sexy, wanted, every time he put his hands on your body, every time he made love to you or just went to chase his own pleasure, just like you did. You worked perfectly together, being able to read the other at all times and knowing exactly what turned them on and what didn’t. 

Joel took your hand, guiding you back into the living room where he pulled the curtains shut and sat down on the left end of the couch. “Come here, love,” he smiled, patting his lap for a moment before you sat down and wrapped your arms around his neck. You could smell his cologne again, that wooden scent filling your nose, leaving a tingling sensation in your stomach. Your hands moved through his dark hair, gently tugging on it before you leant in for a kiss, Joel meeting you halfway. 

The kiss started out slow and sensual, but soon turned more demanding, craving more and more. Your hands slid down over his neck, nails lightly scratching over the skin there. Joel took a sharp breath in response, but you could feel him pulsate between your legs, moving your hips forward a bit to rub your middle against his arousal. A groan escaped Joel once more, his hands squeezing your hips. 

Your hands grabbed his collar and you helped him get rid of the sweater, carelessly throwing it to the ground. Your shirt soon followed, your partner’s lips attaching to your breasts. His teeth scraped against the sensitive skin, a moan escaping from your throat as he made his way down with his mouth, moving your bra aside to get to your nipple. He started to suck on it, tongue swirling around it as they started to get erect with arousal. Your hips continued to move against his, working the two of you up, even though you doubted his arousal could grow even more. 

Your name slipped past his lips, his deep voice being muffled by your breasts. “I love your tits,” he mumbled, giving your nipples more attention before he eventually let go of them and captured your lips with his own once more. The kiss was desperate, full of desire and his hands did quick work with your bra, tossing it to the ground next to the rest of your clothes. His eyes moved over your exposed chest, filling with desire as his hands wandered up your body once more, taking your breasts into his rough palms and kneading them gently. He knew exactly what he had to do to get you worked up through your just touching your breasts. 

One last kiss was planted to each breast before he grabbed your waist and laid down you down on the length of the couch, swiftly opening your pants and pulling them down your legs. His mouth found your belly, placing soft kisses there until it made its journey downwards, teeth pulling off your panties until you were completely naked in front of him. There was no sense of shame between you two anymore. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Joel assured you which brought a smile to your lips and the heat into your cheeks. Your hand reached out to briefly brush over his beard while he leaned into your touch. Your gaze travelled over his bare chest, from the slight chest hair to his stomach, all the construction work having definitely left its mark. When you hand landed in his hair again, you tugged him closer, Joel manoeuvring to lay between your legs as you wrapped them around him. His erection was straining against his sweatpants as he pressed his hips against yours, so close to your wet core. Another moan escaped your lips, your body screaming for more of his touch. 

He rolled his hips against you once more, a groan coming from him as well. His hands travelled over your legs, giving your thighs a squeeze before he let go of you to strip his sweatpants down his legs. You watched him expose his strong legs as the sweatpants joined the pile of clothing on the floor. 

Joel directed his attention back at you when he started to kiss up your right leg, getting closer and closer to your middle, beard scraping against the insides of your thighs. His mouth eventually found your core, tongue brushing up all the way from your opening to your clit. That’s where he rested for a moment, tongue flicking against your sensitive nub, waves of pleasure rolling over your body. His arms wrapped around your thighs, holding them apart as he started to move his tongue in circles around your clit. 

You couldn’t hold back the moans coming from your lips and you also didn’t want to. He deserved to know how good he made you feel. Your hips moved up in a desperate manner to meet his touches, meet his tongue as it brought you pleasure over and over again. Joel wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking softly, his eyes glancing up to meet yours. 

Your hands found their way into his hair, tugging on it, holding onto it as the pleasure increased and increased, pushing you further to that cliff you were almost ready to tumble down. “Feels so good,” you murmured and it made Joel flick his tongue over your clit even faster. A tension was building up in your abdomen, getting stronger and stronger with each wave that ran through your body. 

Joel closed his lips around your clit again, sucking on it, giving you the last push over the edge. Your orgasm came in one strong wave at first, hips buckling up, his name slipping past your lips and moans following as the pleasure continued to course through you. A layer of sweat was building up on your forehead, your breathing getting faster as you continued to dwell in the pleasure. 

“Oh, I love the sounds you make when you cum for me,” he whispered into your ear, giving you a quick kiss to your lips before he got rid of his boxers finally. 

Joel leaned down to give you another kiss, his tongue brushing over your lips while he pressed himself against you, his cock applying slight pressure to your clit again. It made your legs shiver, that small contact, still sensitive from your first climax. 

His hands gently spread your legs apart a bit further before he aligned himself with your middle, eventually filling you completely. A moan came from both of you, your hands looking for something to hold onto, eventually finding his shoulders. You got a got hold of them when Joel started to move his hips against yours, starting out with slow and sensual thrusts. 

You felt so close to him in that moment, as close as you could physically be, but also mentally. His lips found yours again, putting all his adoration into it as he rolled his hips against yours. You moaned into his mouth every now and then, your hold on him getting tighter as soon as he started to thrust a bit harder. Groans slipped past his lips as well, a sign of his arousal and how much he liked being buried deep inside you. 

“You feel so good,” he whispered into your ear, his teeth getting a hold of your earlobe while his hips started to move faster, his thrusts picking up speed as well. 

The contact with his teeth was sending shivers down your spine while the tension in your abdomen continued to build once more. It was getting stronger and stronger, with each thrust, with each time you could feel him deep inside you. 

Joel let out another groan, so close to your ear, and you could tell he was getting closer to, his thrusts shaking your entire body. He was starting to chase his own climax, getting closer and closer. His hand found your hair and he tugged you a bit closer to him, to kiss you, to press you close against him while he continued to pound into you. 

All you could hear were your mutual moans, his groans and the sound of skin slapping against skin. You could smell his cologne so close to you, could feel his hot skin pressed against yours as he seemed to approach his climax, dragging you right with him. 

“I’m so close, baby,” he announced, hands gripping your hips as he focused on his last thrusts, making them slow, but hard. 

It was enough for you to reach your high as well. His thrusts send you over the edge, the grip on your hips pulled you closer and you could feel him pulsate inside you as he came and filled you up. A loud moan escaped your throat, your back slightly arching when all that pleasure came over you in a strong wave. Your legs shivered, your hands desperately held onto Joel’s back and his chest was pressed close against yours by the time his climax also faded away in waves. 

When your lips met again, the kiss was gentle, soft, while still being as close to each other as possible. Love confessions were exchanged between breaths, his lips left a few additional kisses on your neck before he eventually pulled out of you, gathering his boxer shorts from the ground and looking for some tissues to clean you up a bit. 

After making sure you were cleaned again, he offered you his hand to help you off the couch. “You know, a shower sounds wonderful right now. Together?” He suggested, pulling your naked body close as soon as you were standing on your feet again. “A shower together always sounds great,” you agreed with a smile on your lips. 

Your legs still felt a bit weak, your body still in a state of bliss, especially when you were pressed against him, arms wrapping around his torso. “Shower it is then,” he confirmed once more, before he picked you up like a bride, carrying you to the bathroom. 

You loved to shower with Joel. It was peaceful and a way to enjoy some intimacy that didn’t involve any actual sex. You both always took the time to wash each other’s hair, to cover the other person in shampoo and give them a good massage every now and then. You exchanged soft kisses, giggles whenever some water dripped into your eyes.

He turned the shower on, waiting a bit and then eventually checking the temperature to see if you two could go inside. When he was sure that it was warm enough, but not too hot, he got rid of his boxers again, but letting you go in first. He followed close after, pulling the shower curtain shut and eventually pulling you in close to himself. 

His hands found your waist, his right hand moving further back to rest against the small of your back. He leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss again and a smile rested on your face when he let go again. You felt loved, cared for. You knew Joel would always look after you and you would always look after him. 

His fingers moved over your cheek, eventually taking your chin between two fingers and gently caressing it. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You were sure that nothing could ever separate you. You would go to the end of the world with him and maybe one day, you two would also live together. You could watch Sarah grow up and grow old with Joel. 

This was everything you had ever wanted. Just live a peaceful life with him, wake up next to him every day and knowing that this was exactly the place you were supposed to be. You were meant to be here, with him and his daughter. 

Maybe you had already known the day your car broke down and you chose to take the ride offered to you. 

And what a ride it would still be in the future. 

If you want to be added to a tallest, send me a quick ask over here!

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THE LAST OF US episode 1 + tumblr/reddit text posts

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THE LAST OF US 1.02 Infected + tweets

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THE LAST OF US episode 2 + tumblr/reddit text posts

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Even Cyno couldn’t escape the roommate spats