#Joel miller

[dr-paint]

Team Jackson, Choose your fighter.

[millers-angel]

okay I don’t know if you take requests or not.. but imagine this okay:

reader lowkey losing an argument with Joel so she flashes her tits (his weakness) at him and she immediately wins bc he folds and fks her on the kitchen counter

(okay sorry im feral rn)

flashing joel joel miller x f!reader nsfw

“you said you were gonna do the dishes,” joel calls out from the kitchen, his voice sharp and already irritated. “you always do this.”

you appear in the doorway, arms folded. “you said you were gonna do them. last night. i remember.”

joel turns to face you, dish towel in hand, brow furrowed like he's been holding this in. “no. i said someone had to do them. and you said, ‘i’ll do it later.’ you said it in that little voice. the one you use when you know damn well you’re not gonna do a damn thing.”

“you’re making stuff up,” you say, though there’s the smallest twitch at the corner of your mouth.

“i’m done making excuses for you,” he says, tossing the towel onto the counter. “not this time. i’m not doing them. you need to take some responsibility.”

you look at him—his arms crossed, his jaw set, that stupidly sexy ‘i’m mad and i mean it’ look—and you tilt your head just slightly. your eyes soften, grow wide, warm, playful.

joel narrows his gaze immediately. “no. don’t give me that look.”

“what look?” you ask sweetly, taking a slow step forward.

“that look like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing,” he says, not budging. “it’s not working. not this time.”

you lift the hem of your shirt, just a little. barely enough to tease, to test. it usually works.

“i’m serious,” joel says, arms still crossed tighter now. “i’m not falling for it.”

you raise it a little higher, smile curling at your lips. “i’m not wearing a bra.”

his jaw flexes. “i don’t care.”

“don’t you?” you murmur, now just a breath away from him, your shirt hanging loose above your hips. “because it kinda looks like you do.”

you hold his gaze. then, with one smooth motion, you pull your shirt over your head and drop it to the floor.

joel stares at it.

then stares at you.

and says nothing.

just stands there, jaw clenched, eyes locked on yours like he’s trying to remember why he was mad in the first place.

you take a step closer, slow, deliberate. your chest brushes lightly against his crossed arms, warm skin against fabric.

“still don’t care?” you ask, soft and dangerous, like you know he’s seconds away from folding.

joel exhales through his nose. “you think this is cute?”

you nod, eyes wide, pretending innocence. “a little.”

“you think you can flash your way outta consequences?”

“it’s worked before.”

he shakes his head, eyes drifting—just for a second—down your bare skin, then snapping right back up like it didn’t happen. but it did. you saw it. and he knows you saw it.

you lean up on your toes, lips almost at his ear. “you’re staring.”

“no, i’m not,” he mutters.

“yes, you are.”

joel’s hands twitch at his sides, like he wants to touch but refuses to move. “put your shirt back on.”

you hum, dragging your fingers slowly down his forearm. “make me.”

his jaw tightens again. “you’re not gonna win this time.”

“mm,” you breathe, lips brushing his neck now, barely there. “we’ll see.”

he closes his eyes. just for a second. like he’s praying. or surrendering.

or both.

“fine,” you say suddenly, stepping back from him, your tone all sweet surrender. “if it bothers you that much, i’ll do the damn dishes.”

joel blinks, caught off guard by your sudden shift. you grab the dish towel off the counter and head toward the sink like it’s no big deal, like you’re being the mature one now.

he watches. arms still crossed. lips pressed into a flat, suspicious line.

but you’re no stupid. you know exactly what you’re doing. you rinse a plate under the warm water, then slowly start scrubbing. your hips shift a little more than necessary, the curve of your back dipping just right.

joel’s still staring. of course he is.

you reach for the tall glass from earlier—the one you used to make that chocolate milkshake just a few hours ago, and when you tilt it, a thick streak of leftover chocolate dribbles out—straight to the top of your breast, slow and sticky, drpping over the nipple.

“shit,” you murmur, looking down at it like it’s some kind of surprise. but it’s not. you know exactly what you did.

you glance over your shoulder, lips tugging at the corner in the faintest smirk. joel’s eyes are locked on you, completely still.

“you just gonna stare, or you gonna help me clean up?” you ask, voice low, teasing.

his jaw moves, but no words come out. he’s losing. badly.

and you know it.

“you know what you’re doing,” he says finally, voice low and rough.

you smile without turning around. “i’m doing the dishes. just like you wanted.”

he lets out a heavy breath, like he’s trying to hold something in. “you’re dangerous.”

you hum, reaching up to grab another glass from the drying rack, letting your body stretch, letting your back arch just enough. “no, i’m helpful.”

“you’re playin’ with fire,” he mutters.

and that’s when you do it. you turn around slowly, hips leaning into the counter, hands still wet and dripping slightly. chocolate still sticky on your breasts.

joel doesn’t hesitate this time.

he’s on you in seconds—his hands gripping your waist, your back pressing into the counter. his mouth just barely brushes the corner of your lips before he pulls back like he’s still trying to fight it. still trying to hold on to whatever thread of self-control he thinks he has left.

“last chance to walk away,” he says, voice thick, eyes locked on your mouth.

“i’m not going anywhere,” you breathe.

and neither is he.

he doesn't move slowly this time. there's no warning, no hesitation—just the rough sound of his breath as he closes the distance and kisses you hard.

it’s not sweet. it’s not gentle. it’s everything he’s been holding back.

his hands slide up your sides, warm and strong, fingertips brushing the sticky path the chocolate left behind. he groans low against your mouth when he feels it under his touch.

“goddamn it,” he mutters, like he’s mad at himself, like kissing you is some kind of sin he’s giving into. “you drive me insane.”

you grin against his lips, breathless. “then stop fighting me.”

he lifts you without warning, sets you on the counter, stepping between your legs like he belongs there—he does. your bare skin against the cool kitchen tile sends a chill through you, but he’s all heat—his hands gripping your thighs, thumbs brushing slow circles into your skin.

“you think everything is a game,” he says against your neck, kissing along your collarbone, tasting the faint chocolate he finds there.

“maybe,” you whisper, fingers threading through his hair. “maybe i just like watching you lose.”

“i’m not losin’,” he growls, pulling back just enough to look at you. “i’m givin’ in.”

and it feels like falling—slow, dizzy, inevitable. like this was where you were always heading, since the first dish left in the sink.

he went down to your breasts, meanwhile his hands already worked unbuttoning your shorts.

his lips found the tip of your breast. he lost himself in it, he sucked, licked the chocolate. you were holding him close to your breast... you love when he plays with them, you love the feeling of his tongue sucking from your nipple as if he's trying to get something. you bite your lip and lean your head back, moaning softly.

joel's lips move to your other breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple before sucking it into his mouth again. you can see how swollen and drooled your breast is... but most importantly, it's clean from chocolate.

"i love the way you taste," he murmurs between kisses, looking up to you.

you chuckle when you spot a stain of chocolate on his jaw. "i can tell,"

his hands slide down to your thighs, squeezing and caressing them as he continues to pleasure you with his mouth. he sucks hard, his teeth gently grazing the sensitive flesh as he teases you with his mouth. he nibbled your nipple, hard enough to make you whine. hearing you was a reward for him.

“that’s for not doing the dishes,” he growled.

“oh, i can do it.” you said playfully, trying to hop off the counter.

he dragged your shorts off. “the hell you’re not. you’re not going anywhere.”

joel grabs your hips again, holding you in place on the counter as he moves between your legs, his body pressed against yours. he leans in, nibbling on your earlobe as he speaks.

"and right now, i want you to be a good girl and stay still for me."

joel reaches down, grabbing his cock and stroking it a few times before pressing it against your entrance.

"you're such a brat," he mutters, his voice filled with both irritation and desire. "never do any chores."

he pushes forward, slowly entering you, his eyes locked on yours the entire time.

"you never let me,"

he thrusts into you hard. he wasn't being soft or slow. he was setting a rentless pace.

joel continues to thrust into you, his pace growing faster and more intense with each movement. he moves his mouth to your neck, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin there as he drives into you over and over again.

"you're damn tight," he groans. "and so damn stubborn."

he lifts one of your legs, wrapping it around his waist, giving him even more access to you. his hips snaps against yours.

"gentle," you say softly between breathy moans.

"you don't like it gentle."

he lifts your other leg, pinning them both against the counter, seizing the moment to pound into you. you twirl your fingers on his hair, tugging just enough, whimpering and repeating his name, over and over, asking for more.

"see? you're a damn brat,"

"no more doing the dishes?" you pouted, faking innocence.

"i'll do them,"

and just like that, you won. again.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

[layaispunk]

HOLY MOLYYYYYY

[aphrcdites]

the bond between a girl and their favorite fictional man is both an unstoppable force and an immovable object

[joelsrose]

Messy

saw someone request @gothcsz for a javi version and I had to write it with joel

warnings - smut !!!!

You’d stopped trying to talk to him three orgasms ago.

Joel hadn’t looked up at your face in over twenty minutes—hadn’t asked how you were doing, hadn’t kissed your mouth, hadn’t said your name once. Because he wasn’t talking to you. Not really.

He was talking to her.

And right now, his broad shoulders were wedged between your trembling thighs, his palms holding your hips down firm, and his mouth—his goddamn mouth—was buried between your legs like he was making up for lost time. You’d lost track of how many times he’d made you come. Everything was slick now—your thighs, your stomach, his beard—and you were so overstimulated your legs shook violently every time his tongue slid up your soaked center again.

Joel’s voice was rough and gravelled as he pulled back for half a breath, looking down at your swollen, glistening pussy with something like adoration in his eyes.

“Fuckin’ look at you,” he muttered, not to you—to your cunt, like she was the one answering his prayers. “So goddamn pretty like this. All messy ‘n’ twitchy for me, drippin’ like you need me down here.”

You whined something—his name, maybe—but he didn’t hear it. Or didn’t care.

“Nah, not talkin’ to you, babygirl,” he rasped, dragging two thick fingers through your folds, watching the slick stretch between them. “M’ talkin’ to her. She’s the one beggin’. Look at this mess—fuckin’ soaked.”

He groaned like it pained him to look away, then leaned in again, licking a fat, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit, moaning against you like he was tasting something forbidden.

“You make me fuckin’ crazy, you know that?” he murmured against your folds, lips dragging over your inner thigh, beard scratchy and wet. “Pussy this sweet should be illegal. What am I supposed to do, huh? Ignore her when she cries for me?”

You reached down, tried to tug on his hair, tried to pull him up toward your mouth—but he just growled and shoved your hand away.

“Uh-uh. You don’t get my mouth, baby. She does.”

And with that, he dove back in, tongue circling your clit with maddening precision, fingers thrusting into you with wet, obscene sounds, your body arching off the bed as the next orgasm built too fast, too sharp—

“She wants it,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “I can feel her. Clenchin’ around me like she knows she belongs to me.”

You were crying now—shaking, begging, and he still wasn’t looking at you.

“Goddamn,” he muttered again, almost reverent. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby. So fuckin’ messy. And all mine.”

[pascalfanatic]

oh, to be his big spoon 😩

[junojoel]

Method Acting

Joel x Reader, 4.7k

Summary: When you’re forced to pose as a couple to avoid suspicion from a group of survivors, the line between pretending and reality begins to blur.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, afab reader but no other description, oral (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, quiet sex, sorry they're in a tent, fake dating, joel calls reader sweetheart

This is the first ever fic I'm posting please let me know what you think!!

It was a rare, fleeting moment of peace in a world that seldom offered any. The harsh noises of the post-apocalyptic landscape had been silenced for the night—no distant gunshots, no rumbling of infected in the distance. Just the quiet crackle of the fire and the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze, a rare flicker of warmth in a world that never seemed to offer comfort. It was the kind of night that could make anyone believe there was still some humanity left, even if it was just the tiny spark of a fire shared between a handful of survivors. A small group, huddled together in the remnants of a ruined town. Among them were you and Joel.

Joel had been the one to suggest it, pragmatic as always.

“We’ll need to play the part. Keep ‘em from asking too many questions,” he’d said earlier that day, his tone low, serious. “They won’t mess with us if they think we’re a team.”

The two of you had found a temporary haven among a group of survivors—a small camp on the outskirts of a rundown town. They had been eyeing you both carefully, trying to figure out your story. One thing they didn’t know about you and Joel was that, despite the mutual respect and trust you’d formed over the years, you weren’t exactly a couple.

At least, not in the traditional sense. Not in the way people used to be, back before the world fell apart. Not the way it used to mean. But you had to pretend. That was the deal. The group that had taken you in didn’t know your history, your relationship, if there was one at all. They only saw two people who didn’t quite fit in. So you had to give them a story. And that story, for now, was that you were a couple.

And so you did. You threw in a casual touch here, a shared glance there, enough to make the others believe the story. You’d gotten good at the act over the years, pretending to be things you weren’t for survival’s sake. You sat next to him by the fire, a comfortable distance at first, though the heat of the flames did little to mask the heat from his body beside yours. The others were talking, exchanging stories of places they’d been, and for a while, you allowed yourself to sink into the routine of pretending.

Joel’s hand brushed yours as you reached for your water bottle. Your chest tightened, and for a moment, the world around you felt distant. How easy it was to pretend. How easy it was to let your body slip into the role you had to play.

He caught your eye across the fire, his gaze steady. His hand twitched on his knee, like he was thinking of reaching for you again. And just when you thought he might, the others called out, breaking the moment.

One of the survivors, a grizzled man with a scar running down his cheek, waved at you both. “You got a good thing going, huh? You and your man, always watching each other’s backs.”

You smiled, playing your role well. “Yeah,” you said lightly, “Wouldn’t have made it this far without him.”

Joel just nodded, his gaze still locked on you, a faint curl to his lips that you couldn’t quite decipher.

The night wore on, and the fire’s glow faded. The others retreated to their tents, and you and Joel remained seated together, the silence stretching long between you. There was something about the quiet that felt too intimate now, something about the space between you that felt too charged. And yet, neither of you moved.

You stared into the fire, your mind racing. What was happening? Was it just the act? Or was there something else?

“Ready to turn in?” Joel’s voice broke through the fog of your thoughts.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yeah. I’m just… not used to all the quiet.”

Joel gave you a half-smile as he stood, holding out his hand to help you up. You took it without thinking, your fingers brushing his a little longer than you meant to. And this time, neither of you pulled away.

The small tent you shared was cramped, the air thick with the scent of damp canvas. You crawled inside, Joel right behind you, and you both settled onto your separate corners. But even as you lay there, trying to will yourself to sleep, the pull between you remained, undeniable.

A new group of survivors showed up at the camp a couple of days later, and the charade continued. But the pretenses were starting to wear thin. What was supposed to be a simple act to keep the others at bay had slowly begun to feel too real.

You found yourself looking for Joel in the crowd, seeking out his touch, his gaze, and you hated how easy it was to fall into this. How easy it was to want him when all of this was just an act. He noticed, too. His touches were more frequent now, more purposeful. Every time he brushed against you, your pulse quickened. Every time his hand lingered too long on your shoulder or your arm, your thoughts tangled with confusion.

One evening, as the sun dipped behind the horizon, you sat by the fire, a log resting between you. The others were busy with their own conversations, but there was a quiet understanding between you and Joel. The line was beginning to blur, and neither of you seemed to know how to stop it.

Joel turned to you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. “You okay?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

You nodded, though the knot in your stomach betrayed you. “Yeah… just thinking.”

Joel’s thumb brushed your wrist, the simple touch sending a wave of heat through your body. “About what?”

You hesitated, unsure of how to phrase what you were feeling. “I don’t know. About all this. About pretending.”

Joel didn’t pull away. Instead, his hand slid up your arm, his fingers trailing lightly over your skin. “It ain’t easy, is it?”

“No,” you admitted, the truth hanging in the air between you. “I think I’m starting to forget what’s real.”

He looked at you then, his expression unreadable. But there was something in his eyes, something you couldn’t deny.

“I don’t know what’s real anymore, either,” he said quietly. “But maybe… maybe that’s okay.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that. Maybe it wasn’t okay. Maybe you were playing with fire, and it was only a matter of time before you got burned.

That night, as you lay in the dark, the tent’s shadows dancing on the walls, you could feel the weight of his presence next to you. The sound of his breath was steady, but there was a tension there, too. A heaviness that neither of you seemed able to shake.

You rolled over, facing him, your body just inches from his. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the rise and fall of his chest as he slept—or as he tried to sleep. There was something magnetic about him tonight, something that drew you in.

Without thinking, you reached out, your hand grazing his. He stiffened at the touch, but didn’t pull away. In fact, his hand curled around yours, the warmth of his skin seeping into you. Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you both just lay there, hand in hand.

His thumb gently stroked the back of your hand, and the feeling of it sent shivers down your spine. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” Joel whispered, his voice rough with something you couldn’t place.

“Neither do I,” you whispered back. Your fingers tightened around his, and it felt like the world outside didn’t exist anymore.

You didn’t pull away, and neither did he. Slowly, you shifted closer, your faces just inches apart. And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, his lips met yours.

It wasn’t a passionate kiss at first. It was tentative, hesitant, like you were both unsure if it was real. But then something in both of you shifted, and the kiss deepened, the tension that had been building between you both finally breaking.

It was no longer pretend. It couldn’t be.

The days after that kiss had felt like walking a tightrope, each step carefully placed, as if a single misstep could send you falling into a world of complications. The air between you and Joel had shifted; the weight of the unspoken words between you was heavier than the tension between the survivors who had become part of your temporary community.

You told yourself it was just the aftermath of an emotional night, the residue of an act that had gotten a little too real. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t just that. It was something more. Something neither of you wanted to admit.

Joel was acting like nothing had changed. But you could see it in the small moments. The way his hand lingered at the small of your back when he passed by, or how he’d glance at you more often than usual. It wasn’t the casual look of someone playing a role anymore—it was different. It was… intense. And you felt it too.

You tried to bury it. You focused on the tasks at hand—preparing food, keeping watch for infected, helping reinforce the camp’s perimeter. But every time you found yourself in Joel’s orbit, the world seemed to slow, the edges of your thoughts fraying as your body seemed to tune in to his presence. You couldn't ignore it. You didn’t want to ignore it.

That night, after another long day of moving supplies and building makeshift shelters, the group settled around the campfire, trying to make the most of the brief respite they had found. You sat beside Joel again, both of you staring into the fire, the dancing flames reflecting off his worn face. The others were busy talking, but you couldn’t focus on them. All you could focus on was the quiet proximity between you and Joel.

“Lookin’ distant,” he murmured, his voice low, rough, the way it always was. “What’s on your mind?”

You shrugged, unsure of how to answer. “Just… thinking about everything, I guess.”

Joel didn’t press you for more. Instead, his hand found its way to yours, a simple, unremarkable gesture. But when his fingers brushed over yours, it was anything but simple. The touch sent a shock through you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away.

“You’ve been distant for a while,” he said, his thumb tracing a slow pattern on the back of your hand. It was strange—he was usually the quiet, brooding type, not one to pry into someone’s emotions. But tonight, something in him had changed. Something about this moment felt too important to let pass unnoticed.

“I’m just… I don’t know. I guess I’m just trying to figure things out.”

“Figure what out?” He raised an eyebrow.

You hesitated. How could you explain to him what was happening inside your head? How could you put words to the feelings that had started to shift between you both? You could see it now—he was no longer just your partner in survival, he was becoming something else. Something that, in this broken world, felt terrifying and beautiful all at once.

But before you could answer, one of the others stood, breaking the moment. “We should get some rest.”

The words were innocuous, but they served to break the connection, the fragile thread that had bound you both. You didn’t want to let it go, but there was no avoiding it. With a forced smile, you let go of his hand.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you said, standing up and heading toward the tent.

As you lay there, the quiet of the night pressed against your skin. Joel was beside you again, the steady rhythm of his breathing a reminder that he was close, that he was real. You didn’t want to think about the kiss, or the way he looked at you when no one else was around. But it was impossible not to. His presence next to you became a constant hum in your chest, a reminder that the line between what was pretend and what was real had long since blurred. You shifted, trying to ignore the way your body responded to the proximity, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t stop the way your body seemed to gravitate toward him, like it had always known where it belonged.

“Joel,” you whispered in the darkness. His name felt foreign on your tongue, yet so right. “Do you ever wonder what comes next?”

His voice was low when he answered, almost as if he was afraid of breaking the fragile peace between you. “Every damn day.”

You turned toward him in the darkness, your face inches from his, the outline of his features barely visible in the dim light. His breath was warm against your skin, and for a moment, everything else in the world faded away. There were no infected, no survivors, no constant fight for survival. There was only Joel, only this moment that you could hardly understand but knew you couldn’t walk away from.

He didn’t move away. Instead, his hand found yours again in the dark, the same comforting weight as before. But this time, it felt different. It felt like it meant something more.

“I don’t want to pretend anymore,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. You didn’t know why you were saying it—didn’t know what you expected to happen after these words—but they had been hanging in the air between you for too long.

Joel didn’t respond at first. For a long moment, you thought he might pull away, that he might dismiss you, act like it was all part of the game you were playing. But when he spoke, his words were soft, thick with something you couldn’t quite place. “Neither do I.”

Before you could say anything else, he leaned in, his lips pressing gently against yours. It was slow, tentative at first, as if you both were trying to figure out where you stood in this uncharted territory. But as the kiss deepened, there was nothing tentative about it anymore. It was raw, desperate, and the weight of it threatened to consume you both.

When you finally broke away, you were both breathless, your heart racing in your chest.

“What happens now?” you asked, your voice shaky with uncertainty.

Joel’s fingers tangled in your hair, his forehead resting against yours. “I don’t know, but I’ll be here. With you. Whatever comes next.”

The words didn’t make it all better, didn’t provide any clear answers. But in that moment, it was enough. The world outside the tent didn’t matter anymore. There were no rules left to follow, no lines left to cross. Just you and Joel, tangled in the warmth of the night.

The world had become a patchwork of moments—each one filled with uncertainty, each one a struggle to survive. Yet somehow, when you were near Joel, the world felt a little more manageable. It wasn’t about the campfires or the fleeting moments of peace between battles with the infected; it was about the quiet intimacy that had grown between you both. The touches that began as pretence had become something deeper, something more powerful. And you couldn’t seem to stop it.

“Cold?” Joel’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you looked up to see him standing next to you, his posture relaxed but his gaze intense.

“A little,” you admitted, but you didn’t make any move to get up. You liked the way the firelight danced across his face, highlighting the angles of his jaw, the quiet strength that radiated from him. There was something magnetic about him—something you couldn’t pull away from.

Joel hesitated for a moment, then sat down next to you, close enough that you could feel the heat from his body. The silence between you both felt familiar now, comfortable, but there was an edge to it. You could feel the tension building between you—unspoken, but undeniable.

Without saying a word, Joel reached forward, grabbing a spare blanket from the pile beside you, and wrapped it around your shoulders. The simple gesture was intimate, his hands brushing against your skin as he pulled it tighter around you. The warmth of the blanket mixed with the warmth of his touch, and it felt like more than just an act of kindness. His fingers lingered on your skin for a moment longer than necessary, a soft pulse of heat spreading through you where his hand had rested.

“Thanks,” you whispered, but your voice was thick with something you couldn’t quite name. You weren’t sure if you were thanking him for the blanket, or for the way his touch made your heart race.

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, his eyes lingered on you for a beat longer than usual, his gaze dark and searching. The fire crackled between you both, casting shadows that seemed to make everything feel even more intimate.

And then, without warning, Joel’s hand found yours. It was a slow, deliberate movement, his fingers sliding between yours in a way that felt more like an invitation than a gesture. His thumb traced the back of your hand in the way he’d done countless times before, but this time it felt different.

“Joel…” you murmured, but your voice faltered as he looked at you. His gaze was steady, his expression unreadable, but the warmth in his touch spoke volumes.

“You’re not the only one who’s confused,” he said quietly, his thumb still grazing the skin of your hand. There was a rawness in his voice that you hadn’t expected, a vulnerability that made your chest tighten.

You didn’t know what to say to that. The truth was, you didn’t need words. You both knew what was happening. The line between what was real and what was an act had already been crossed. You had crossed it together, without even realizing it.

Joel’s hand tightened around yours, pulling you a little closer, just enough to make your breath catch. His body shifted slightly, his shoulder brushing against yours as he leaned in, his face inches from yours. The closeness felt like an unspoken promise, like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you, and nothing else mattered.

Without thinking, you turned your head slightly, your lips brushing against his cheek in a soft, hesitant kiss. The warmth of his skin, the faint stubble on his jaw, all of it made your pulse race. It was only a fleeting touch, but it sent a shockwave through your body.

But before either of you could speak, Joel’s hand cupped your face, his thumb stroking your cheek in a way that made your heart flip in your chest. It wasn’t an act anymore. Not the way it had been in the beginning. The touches, the proximity, it was all too real. Too raw.

Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, Joel closed the distance between you, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was far more urgent than the one before. His hands moved to your back, pulling you into his chest, his body heat enveloping you completely. You could feel his heart racing, just like yours, the frantic thrum of two people caught in something neither of you knew how to control. His lips were hot against yours, demanding, but not in a way that made you want to pull away. It felt like a slow burn, a fire that was catching, and neither of you had the strength to put it out.

The kiss broke for a moment, both of you gasping for air, your foreheads still pressed together, both of you breathing heavily. Joel’s hands were still on you, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on your skin as if memorizing every inch of you.

“I didn’t think… I didn’t think I’d want this,” you whispered, your voice still shaky from the kiss. It was the truth, even though you didn’t know what to do with it.

Joel’s hands drifted down to your waist, his fingers gently pressing against your sides, his touch careful but no less intense. He didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he just looked at you, his eyes searching, as though trying to figure out if you were really here, if this moment was real.

“You don’t have to want it,” he said quietly, his thumb tracing the curve of your waist. “I just… I want you to be sure. Because once we start, we can’t go back.”

His words hung in the air between you like a promise, or maybe a warning. But you didn’t care. Because for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

“I’m sure,” you whispered, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “I’m sure, Joel.”

And that was all it took. His lips were on yours again, more urgent now, more desperate, like he couldn’t get enough. His hands pulled you closer, his body flush against yours, and you could feel the tension in him as he guided you back to the tent, laying you gently on the ground.

Joel’s hands were on your waist, tugging at your shirt, pulling it up and over your head, leaving you in just your bra. His fingers traced the straps, teasing the sensitive skin beneath before unclasping it and letting it fall to the ground.

You reached for the buttons on his shirt, your fingers fumbling with the fabric as you tried to undo them. Joel helped, his fingers brushing against yours as he undid the last few buttons and shrugged out of his shirt. His chest was bare, his muscles rippling in the firelight. You couldn’t help but stare, your breath hitching in your throat as you took in the sight of him. You reached down, your fingers fumbling with the zipper on his jeans, pulling it down and reaching inside. Joel hissed in a breath as your fingers wrapped around him, stroking him gently.

He kissed you again, his tongue exploring your mouth as you stroked him. His fingers teased your nipples, making you gasp with pleasure. You broke the kiss, your head falling back as Joel’s mouth moved down your neck, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

He knelt in front of you, his hands on your hips as he pulled you closer. You knew what he wanted, and you were more than happy to give it to him. You reached down, your fingers tangling in his hair as you guided his head between your legs. Carefully, he unbuttoned your jeans and slipped them off.

Joel looked up at you for a moment, holding your gaze. His pupils were blown, looking wrecked despite hardly being touched. Then, he smiled. Joel’s tongue darted out, teasing your clit through the fabric of your underwear. You gasped, your hips bucking forward as he continued to tease you.

"Joel…" You began to beg, but he quickly cut you off with a hand over your mouth.

"Quiet now," Joel whispered in your ear, as soft as it was teasing. "Wouldn't want anyone interrupting. Waited too long for this, sweetheart."

Joel pulled your underwear aside and his mouth was on you, hot and insistent. He licked you slowly at first, savouring your taste, the flat of his tongue dragging over your clit before he wrapped his lips around it. You slapped a hand over your mouth to keep from crying out, pleasure sparking through you like wildfire. His fingers slipped inside you, moving in time with his mouth as he built you higher and higher.

You were trembling, your thighs quivering against his cheeks, everything in you coiled tight and ready to snap. You tugged harder at his hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer when he added another finger and curled them deep inside you.

That was all it took to send you over the edge. Your vision went white, your body arching off the ground as you came hard against him. Joel didn’t stop; he rode out every wave with you until you were panting beneath him, spent.

Eyes dark and satisfied, he pulled back, lips glistening, looking smug with satisfaction. You barely had time to catch your breath before he was crawling over you, kissing his way up your body. His mouth met yours, and you could taste yourself on his tongue as he kissed you desperately.

His hands were on your thighs, lifting them around his waist as he pressed against your entrance. You could feel him there, hard and insistent, and you moaned into his mouth, urging him on.

“Been wanting this for so damn long,” he breathed against your lips, his voice rough with need.

"Joel," you whispered. "Want you."

He didn’t make you wait. Slowly, achingly slow, he pushed inside of you. You gasped at the stretch of him as he filled you completely, every inch sending a new wave of pleasure through you.

He moved carefully at first, letting you adjust to the size of him, but soon the urgency took over and he began to thrust harder, deeper. The pace was relentless, each push and pull driving you closer to a second climax. Your moans were muffled against his shoulder, your nails biting into his back as he took you higher and higher. He pressed a hand between your bodies, finding your clit and rubbing circles until you shattered around him, even harder than before.

Your body clenched tight, dragging him with you. You cried out his name, the sound breaking and breathless as Joel came inside you, filling you. You felt every pulse of him, every shuddering thrust as he buried himself deep and you both broke apart together.

He collapsed against you, sweating and panting as he tried to catch his breath. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as he slowly softened inside of you. The night was quiet around you, just the crackle of the fire outside and the sound of your breathing.

Joel stayed like that for a moment before shifting to lay at your side, pulling you into his arms. His skin was warm against yours, his heart still beating fast as he held you close. You didn’t say anything, didn’t need to. There was a sense of peace in the silence between you, a feeling of finally belonging. You rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow. His fingers traced circles on your back, lazy and content. You closed your eyes, letting yourself drift in the warmth and safety of him.

Eventually, Joel shifted and reached for a blanket, pulling it around both of you. You snuggled closer, feeling his breath against your hair as he spoke softly.

“Was it worth the wait?” His voice was teasing but there was a touch of genuine curiosity.

You smiled against his skin. “Definitely.”

He hummed, satisfied, and kissed the top of your head. The fire flickered low outside the tent, shadows dancing over the canvas as sleep crept in around the edges.

Before you slipped under completely, you heard Joel murmur one last thing:

“Gonna want more in the morning."

You chuckled, the sound more of a soft exhale as you nuzzled into him. “Good thing I’m not going anywhere.”

And you weren’t. Not now. You lay there wrapped in Joel, feeling blissfully untethered from everything but this moment, the night stretching around you like a deep sigh of relief.

When morning came, it was the pale light streaming through the tent that woke you. You blinked, disoriented for a second before remembering where you were and who you were with. Joel was still asleep beside you, his arm heavy across your waist, his face peaceful in the early dawn.

Gently, so as not to wake him, you slipped out from under his arm and reached for your clothes. The air was cool on your bare skin, and you shivered a little as you dressed. You smiled down at Joel’s sleeping form, resisting the urge to climb back under the blanket with him.

[phoenixpascal]

Family surprise birthdays are the best.

[milla-frenchy]

She's a rainbow

2k9 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 | Masterlist

Summary: Joel returns after a long patrol and you greet him with a surprise Warnings: 18+ mdni. Jackson!Joel, established relationship, fluff, smut, possessive!Joel, soft!Joel, some playful banter, pet names (baby girl, sweetheart, baby), masturbation (f), fingering, spitting, squirting, spanking, rough sex, piv, mentions of breeding, aftercare. Joel is in his late 50s, no age specified for reader

a/n: this is written for @jolapeno 's “april showers challenge 2.0” Thank you for this 2nd edition, Jo 😘❤️ thank you @aurorawritestoescape as always for beta-ing me, you're a sweetheart and ily 💕🫶 dividers @/saradika-graphics 🙏

Joel left for patrol three days ago, and it'd been raining ever since. It was rare to rain that much and you could only imagine how tired and weary he would be when he was going to be back. 

Several times you asked him to schedule less patrols or make them shorter. He was in charge of planning them yet never went easy on himself. He knew your concern and addressed it as best he could, reassuring you, but still didn’t change the schedule. He saw himself responsible for all the patrollers, responsible for Jackson's safety. It didn't matter that he was tired, that his back hurt more and more, that his limbs were strained. He was stubborn, and you knew you would have a hard time convincing him to earnestly consider the issue.

You also knew that he wanted to give Tommy, Maria and their baby Benjamin as much time together as possible. He wasn't assigning his brother to long patrols at the moment, and very few patrols in general.

He often patrolled with Jessie, sometimes with Ellie—for shorter patrols—now that he'd agreed to let her out of Jackson.

You knew how much it cost him. The look he gave her was always overflowing with tenderness and fatherly protection. He loved her as if she were his second daughter, and when you met them, a few weeks after you found refuge in Jackson, you told yourself that the dangerous and somehow lost world still had beautiful things to offer.

You thought about it in the afternoon as you were making coffee, hoping Joel would be home soon. You managed to trade some with new arrivals, and you knew that Joel would find comfort in it after a hard patrol.

You had just poured yourself a cup, warming your hands by holding the mug, looking out at the street through the window, when you finally saw him. Hunched shoulders, heavy, dragging steps, he was returning from the stable after having left his horse there. Your heart sank at the sight of him, visibly exhausted, his body stiff with pain. But you were relieved to see him back. The days, and worse, the nights without him, gnawed at you with worry, as you imagined the worst. But he always came back.

You were waiting for him at the doorstep, wondering when the rain would stop. Joel looked up as he approached the house and smiled when he saw you. He climbed the steps and you hugged him - not too tightly, already anticipating him wincing in pain. He slid his arms around your waist, his coat and clothes soaked, but you didn't care. He smelled of leather, of wood, of him.

“Hey, baby,” you murmured against his neck, brushing his skin with your nose.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he replied, cradling your head with his hand, pressing you against his chest.

You stepped back and stood aside to let him in, then closed the door behind him. He sat down in a chair, and took off his muddy, soaked shoes.

“Is that… coffee?” he asked suddenly, eyes wide as he was sniffing the air in the room.

“It is.” You smiled and handed him a cup of the steaming beverage. “A little embarrassed as to what I had to trade to get it, but… it’s not bad.”

“I bet it’s perfect,” he murmured, his voice full of gratitude diving straight into your veins. He hummed when he brought the cup to his nose and breathed  in the scent. 

“Oh, christ, it’s perfect. The best smell in the world.” He sipped on it, then added “and the best taste in the world,” looking up at you, a smirk on his face.

“Oh, really? Three little days away and you’re already praising coffee over me?”

He chuckled and you kissed his forehead.

“Ok, time to shower, sassy boy.”

Those last months, whenever he returned from a long patrol, you would shower together. You loved to wash the exhaustion off his body, to roll the muscles of his neck and shoulders under your fingers, before untying those on his back. It was a moment you both loved, tender and sweet, in the privacy of your home. A moment different from the nights, when the fatigue would finally leave his body.

Joel couldn't help but pull you against him, as your fingers had already taken some of his pain away. He nuzzled your neck and you tried not to lose yourself in his touch, even though your moans betrayed you.

“Be good,” you told him and he grumbled,

“I am. Haven’t fucked you yet, have I?”

He flashed his eyebrows at you and it made you laugh.

You had a quick dinner then went to bed. A content sigh he exhaled as he lay back on the bed made you smile. Clean sheets were always waiting for him when he came back from a long patrol, and you knew how much he appreciated your care. Within seconds, he was already asleep. You placed your hand on his forearm, to prove to yourself that he was really there, and fell asleep, too.

The rain drumming against your bedroom window woke you up during the night. For a second, your heart sank with worry for Joel, forgetting that he had come home the day before, and you turned to his side of the bed. He was sleeping peacefully, facing you, a light snore leaving his lips. His hand was half-tucked under the pillow, his face relaxed, the crease in his forehead barely visible. You smiled as you watched him. Your man was there, at home, safe.

You always missed him a lot when he was gone. You had never thought you'd find love after the apocalypse, find someone you aligned with on every level. Until you had found Joel, and he had found you.

His body radiated its usual warmth and your thoughts drifted, your lower abdomen craving him. You missed him, missed his whole body, but you wanted to let him rest.

You slipped your hand into your panties and closed your eyes, imagining his hands and lips on you, his thick cock inside you. You bit your lip to keep you from moaning when you came. It was not even close to the brightness of a climax he usually gave you, but you didn’t want to wake him up. Your breathing slowly returned to normal.

“You're beautiful when you come.”

You opened your eyes suddenly, hearing his low, warm voice, and your head snapped to him. His hand still under the pillow, he hadn't moved an inch, except for his eyes were now fully open, a smile curving his lips. You felt heat reach your cheeks under his gaze.

“And you look even prettier when you're all shy for me,” he said as his hand left the coolness of the sheets for the warmth of your body when he’d pushed his finger in your heat before sucking on it.

“Mmm, sweetheart… I missed ya.”

“Oh, really? I thought the best taste in the world was coffee?” you said playfully, even though the sight of him licking his fingers was making your pussy drip again.

“Are you jealous of coffee, baby?”

“I’m jealous of everything when it comes to you,” you pouted.

“Can relate to that,” he chuckled before adding, “well… I think I was thrilled about the coffee. It's been a long time, you know.”

He pushed the sheets away and you shuddered when his calloused fingers brushed against your skin.

“Thrilled? Yeah…Yeah, I understand. Because when I saw this man, newly arrived in Jackson, I was thrilled too, when I traded coffee with him.”

You fought your best to suppress a smile that tried to twist your lips at his reaction. The way he stopped caressing your skin. How his eyes darkened and locked with yours. 

You figured out pretty quickly that Joel was a possessive man. He liked to show everyone you were his, his hand usually resting on the small of your back, or his arm around your shoulders, at the Tipsy Bison or in the streets of Jackson.

And you loved it. 

You craved it. 

You'd lived for too long in qzs or in the wild with no protection other than your own, without love. So you always pressed yourself to him in those moments, relishing his broadness, his strength, his masculine scent. Eager to be drunk on him. That was one of the reasons why every time he went on patrol, it was so hard for you to be on your own, even in the safety of Jackson's compound. 

“Is that so?” he gruffed, placing his hand against your cunt, and you spread your legs to let him settle in with the full width of his palm.

His middle finger slid along your soaked folds, and you were already moaning. 

“Why were you thrilled baby?” he asked in a dangerously low voice.

“Because he had coffee?” you answered, still playfully, but not as much as a few seconds before, distracted by the way your skin shivered under his touch.

His palm rubbed against your clit, while another digit joined his middle one, moving in and out of your core.

“Was that man alone when he came to Jackson?”

“No, shit… no, there were t- two of them. Two… two men.”

“Mmm… your type?” he asked before leaning forward and spitting on your drooling pussy.

“Oh, fuck! I guess...”

He paused for a few moments and grabbed his stiff shaft for some release, mumbling, before fingering you again.

“You guess?”

“They're quite nice to look at. Broad, in their 50s. I- fuck! I think I have a type.”

And then he growled. It was animalistic, as he pumped you harder, and you felt another climax building.

“What did you trade for that coffee? Why was it embarrassing?”

You could have stopped playing right there. Let him make you come and then lie between your thighs to push himself into your warmth. But you wanted to tease him a little more. Because even though you both knew it was just a game and you both loved your banter, that became one of your love languages, the way you showed your connection to each other, you loved to see that side of him. Feral, possessive. Jealous.

So no, you couldn't stop there. 

"I'm not sure you'll like it, Joel."

He stopped again, scrutinizing you. Resisting his urge to keep fingering you, to make you come, to hear your little moans grow louder.

“Oh, baby girl… You’re treading on some mighty thin ice here,” he murmured, leaning forward to breathe on your neck, his fingers buried inside you.

“Really?” you breathed.

He pushed his fingers back, then pushed in "what," back "did you," in "trade," and back "to get it?" You were rolling your hips towards his hand, fingers clenching at the sheets.

He stopped again.

“Fuck, Joel! I was close, please, baby…”

“Mmm?” He smirked, and suddenly began moving  them hard and fast, his wrist firm and sure, until you squirted, your hand wrapped around his wrist, his name on your lips. 

“That’s it, say my name, baby. Let all the neighbors know that I’m home, taking care of my girl.”

“Joel…,” you whined.

“Yeah? Such a good girl, squirting all over my hand. Ruining the clean sheets. That easy for me, huh?”

He lay between your thighs, spreading them with his knee and pushed his whole length into your wet pussy in one go.

“Jesus, I missed you, baby. Missed this cunt.”

“I missed you too, baby,” you whimpered.

“Mmm”, he murmured, fucking you hard and deep, before slowing down his pace. 

“So, what did you trade?” he added with a smirk “and stop bullshiting me.”

You sighed, then replied, “soaps.”

He straightened up, balls deep in you, face down towards yours. “Soaps? My soaps?”

You rolled your eyes before smiling. Joel had a bunch of soaps at home. Probably because he had lacked that luxury for some time, especially when he had travelled the country with Ellie. Now he always smelled like soap. 

“Yeah, a few of them. But now you can drink coffee, you know? Your favorite everything in the world,” you added, pouting exaggeratedly.

He smiled and leaned down, kissing your nose then your lips, before rolling his hips towards you deliciously. You wrapped your legs around his waist, crossing your feet on his back to feel him deeper.

“Did you miss me?” you asked as you brushed his cheeks. 

You knew he did, but your heart needed to hear him say it, as he thrust into you, filling you perfectly like only he could.

“Every second, baby girl.”

He kissed you and his tongue licked at your lips, asking silently to open up for him. Your tongues danced against each other, softly at first, until the need overwhelmed both of you. Your gaze darkened.

“Show me how much,” you murmured.

He watched you carefully, noticing how your eyes expressed what you needed, and nodded.

He pulled out and flipped you over, so quickly that you barely had time to understand what happened. 

He pulled your hips back, angling your ass toward him and spanked you once, sharply, before pressing his tip at your entrance. 

“You wanna know how much I missed you?” he huffed.

“Yes, please, Joel,” you answered, your cheek resting against the pillow. Pliant.

“Alright.”

He pushed in. Hard and deep. His thick cock spread your folds and you whined, full of him. He seized your hips and his fingers dug in your skin, as he set a heavy pace. 

“So now, baby,” he groaned, his jaw clenched, “tell me who you belong to.”

“You,” you whined.

“And that cunt?”

“You! All yours, Joel.”

He slowed down, pushing in and out so slowly it was almost painful. You wanted to feel him raw and hard, wanted him to pierce your core.

“Is that so? Seems to me you weren't so sure. With all the men around.” 

“I'm sure. Oh god! I'm yours, Joel.”

You slid your hand to your clit and started rubbing it, but he slapped your wrist and you whined.

He spanked you again, twice, making you clench on his shaft. 

“Fuck, you’re squeezing me fucking hard, baby,” he said, seizing your hips tightier. “ ‘m not sure I'm gonna let you come. Not sure you deserve to come on this cock, since you're that ungrateful, baby.”

You could feel the smirk on his face, without even seeing it. He was the one teasing now, the one in control, and you loved every second of it.

“Mine?”

“Yours.”

“Yeah, that's it. That's all I wanna hear. Come for me, baby. Squeeze that cock. Squeeze it so hard that I won’t be able to pull out. Will have to cum inside you.”

He gave you the rhythm you needed, hard, deep, jackhammering your cunt without mercy. His grunts echoing in the room. You rubbed your swollen clit and came, finally reaching a release, your walls clenching around his shaft so hard that he whimpered.

“Shit, baby,” he growled, fucking you deep, so deep that you clutched the pillow, your head hitting the headboard, before he stuffed you back fully with his cock.

“One day… fuck! One day I won't pull out. Will pump you full of my cum,” he growled. You felt his cock twitch inside you before he pulled out, just in time to stroke his shaft twice and shoot his load against your inner thighs.

“Shit… you're driving me crazy,” he said, kissing the spot on your ass where he spanked you, then grabbed a towel from the nightstand and wiped his release off your skin. He kissed the small of your back and rolled you over and held you close.

“God, I love when you're jealous,” you smiled as you kissed him.

“Hmm, I can see that. You’re playing some dangerous games.” His big hands brushed your back and he pulled you to him before kissing your forehead.

“Dangerous?” you teased. “I got you exactly where I wanted.” You peppered kissed over his chest that still smelled like soap.

“Oh, I know. You got me wrapped around your pretty finger.”

You giggled and quickly fell asleep in his arms.

You woke up when you felt him move slightly against you. The bedroom was filled with sunlight.

“ ‘morning, baby. Look at that, it poured for three days, I came back home and now there's not a  cloud in sight. You're my rainbow in this world, sweetheart.”

You looked at him, gaze full of love, and murmured, “you're gonna make my heart melt, baby.”

“Yeah, I bet it already is. Pretty proud of myself on that one,” he smiled, his dimple cute on his cheek.

“Well… If you patrolled less, you would see your rainbow more, you know...” you grinned.

“Oh, I see what you're doing, little minx,” he laughed, until a serious expression appeared on his face. “Alright, I'm gonna think about it, ok? Maybe free my schedule up a little.”

“Oh my god, really, baby?”

“Yeah, I'm too old anyway.”

“Old? You fucked me like crazy last night. But! Ok ok, forget I just said that. Yeah, you're too old for patrol, sure.”

He laughed and gripped your hips.

“Now, come sit on my face. Wanna make sure the neighbors get the message loud and clear, just like at night.”

Thank you for reading 🙏

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

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[goldenispunk]

[thenameissnix]

I already did some in the past...for those, click here.

I'm reblogging in case y'all want to request some :)

send me a pairing and a number and i'll write you a drabble

“Come over here and make me.”

“Have you lost your damn mind!?”

“Please, don’t leave.”

“Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?”

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

“I almost lost you.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Don’t you ever do that again!”

“Teach me how to play?”

“Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!”

“I think we need to talk.”

“Kiss me.”

“Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.”

“So, I found this waterfall…”

“It could be worse.”

“Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while…”

“This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.”

“The paint’s supposed to go where?”

“You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”

“We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

“Just once.”

“You’re the only one I trust to do this.”

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

“I got you a present.”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Marry me?”

“I thought you were dead.”

“It’s not what it looks like…”

“You lied to me.”

“I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

“Please don’t do this.”

“If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed.”

“You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

“I wish I could hate you.”

“Wanna dance?”

“You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

“Hey! I was gonna eat that!”

“Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?”

“You did all of this for me?”

“I swear it was an accident.”

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

“If you die, I’m gonna kill you.”

“Tell me a secret.”

“Hey, have you seen the..? Oh.”

“No one needs to know.”

“Boo.”

“Well this is awkward…”

Writer’s preference

[millersdoll]

crush by ethel cain

[pedrospascaled]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY PEDRO PASCAL April 2ND 1975 (IN/SP)

[buckypascal]

✨ Happy 50th Birthday, Pedro Pascal ✨

[millersdoll]

this is so dbf!joel LIKE ARE YOU SEEING THIS???