#Porcelain Coated | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lowrisemiller · 2 months ago

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ꜱɴᴏᴡʙᴏᴜɴᴅ ⋆⁺₊❅。

summary- you & joel are the only ones left from your group and struggling to get through the harsh winter. until you stumble across an abandoned cabin and decide to stay there the whole winter…what could possibly happen ? ❅

HE KEEPS looking at you while walking, yet he remains silent. It’s one of the harshest winters he has faced since the outbreak, and you appear more like a porcelain doll that ought to be kept safe in a box, rather than a survivor in the wilderness. There were six people at the start of the journey, but now it’s merely the two of you. He has already had to bid farewell too many times in his life. It would be unfortunate to attempt to forget your pretty face as well.

You were shivering despite the many layers you had as you tried to keep up with Joel.

He sighs before he stops and turns around to face you. You can see in his gaze the concern he feels for you.

"You're freezing." He says, stepping towards you.

“N-No shit,” you said through chattering teeth.

He simply huffs at your protest, gently wrapping the coat around you. He then looks down at you, his gaze softens slightly.

“N-No Joel you need it.”

"I'll manage. You're smaller and freezing. Now shut your pretty little mouth and keep warm, okay?"

“O-Okay Joel, T-Thank you,” you said, still shivering but his coat helped.

He nods, a small smirk on his lips. It seems like your compliance has earned his grudging respect.

"You're welcome.”

He starts walking again, but this time at a slightly slower pace so you can keep up with him.

THE CABIN

After walking in the blinding white snow for what seems like forever, Joel's gaze catches a small cabin in the distance. He halts, his eyes focused on the structure. He lets out a small hum, seeming to consider something.

"Looks like we might get some rest."

“D-Do you think it’s safe?”

He looks at you, his expression is a mix of consideration and caution.

"Hard to say for sure. But it's our best shot for now."

He approaches the cabin cautiously, his hand on his revolver as he checks the surroundings.

“O-Okay.”

He nods at you, still wary. He arrives at the cabin's door and presses his ear against it, listening for any sounds inside.

He then gives the doorknob a few experimental twists, but it doesn't budge. He takes a couple of steps back and prepares to kick the door open, but pauses.

"Stay behind me."

You nodded.

Joel gives you one last glance, making sure you're behind him, before he slams his booted foot against the door. It creaks and eventually gives way, opening fully. Joel steps inside, revolver raised and trained on every corner and shadowed spot.

You also took your gun out just in case.

The cabin is empty, which comes as a relief to Joel. He lowers his revolver, letting out a sigh.

"Looks clear."

He steps further into the cabin, quickly checking every corner and hiding place for any sign of danger. After a few moments, he decides it's safe.

"You can come in."

You all but ran in there, desperate to seek any warmth and put my gun back in my pack.

He lets out an amused snort as he watches you rush into the cabin.

"In a hurry, aren't we?"

He shuts the door behind you, locking it to add an extra layer of security. He then gazes around the cabin, his eyes roaming over the tattered furniture and bare walls.

“It was fuckin freezing,” you said, already settling into the place.

He chuckles, his gaze meeting yours. He takes in your shivering form and sighs.

"I can tell.”

He walks over to the fireplace, which is thankfully already stocked with firewood. He starts working to build a fire, his large hands moving swiftly.

You couldn’t help but look at his hands as you helped him with the wood.

He glances at you a few times as you help, taking note of your silent observations. His hands, rough and calloused from a lifetime of survival, move with surprising grace and precision as he arranges the firewood into a neat pile.

After a few moments, the fire roars to life, its flames casting an inviting warmth over the cabin.

As you were warming up you shrugged off his jacket and gave it back to Joel.

He takes the jacket, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief moment. He shrugs it back on, the fabric a little damp from your body heat and the snowflakes that had melted on it.

He settles on the floor near the fireplace, leaning against the wall. He pats the space next to him, a weary but somewhat inviting gesture.

"Come sit."

You nodded and let out a simple “alright,” and sat next to him.

He watches as you take a seat beside him, the firelight dancing across your face. He remains silent for a moment, his gaze drifting back to the fire, but he can feel your presence next to him and it's oddly comfortable. It's been a while since he's had someone by his side.

“This is nice.”

He glances at you, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"I guess it is."

He stretches out his legs slightly, the tension from their journey showing in his movements.

"It's been a while since I've had a moment of peace like this. Been non-stop moving since the outbreak."

“Yeah tell me about it,” you chucked.

He lets out a soft chuckle, his eyes still fixed on the dancing flames.

"Yeah, it's a goddamn nightmare out there."

He pauses for a moment, his expression growing serious.

"I can't remember the last time I slept in a bed and didn't have to keep one eye open. And finding shelter like this...it's a small miracle."

“Yeah it’s a cute cabin, I uh actually meant to bring this up but…” You averted your gaze to the wooden floor.

He turns his head to face you, his gaze curious and a bit wary. He cocks an eyebrow, silently urging you to continue.

“Uh I was looking around the place and there’s only one bedroom with one bed…”

He freezes for a fraction of a second, his expression unreadable. He then lets out a scoff, running a hand through his hair.

"Well, that is something to talk about."

He eyes the single bed across the room, then looks back at you. He's trying to act nonchalant, but your observation has clearly caught him off guard.

“I mean I’m fine with it. I think we both deserve to sleep in a bed and we’re both adults it’s okay… unless you’re not comfortable with it—”

You sputtered out quickly.

He cuts you off, his tone firm but not cold.

"No, no it's fine."

He lets out a sigh, running a hand over his face. He's trying to conceal his discomfort. Of course, they were both adults, but sharing a single bed was...intimate. Something he hadn't done in a very long time. But he quickly pushes that thought aside, refusing to show any vulnerability.

"We both need rest. It's just for one night."

“Right. Yeah…Yeah.”

He nods, his gaze returning to the fire, a mix of resignation and exhaustion in his eyes. Despite his attempt to act cool about the situation, he's clearly not used to sharing personal space with anyone.

There's a long, heavy silence as both of you sit there, the crackling of the fire providing the only background noise.

“Do you think… Could we stay here longer? Not just a night?”

You said, breaking the silence.

He considers your question, his eyes distant as he stares into the flames. He runs a hand over his face, a weary gesture.

"I suppose we could...for a few days, at least."

He finally looks over at you, a hint of skepticism in his gaze.

"But it's risky. We can't stay in one place too long. We could get ambushed, supplies could run out."

“Joel c’mon there’s nothin for miles, we could stay here for winter.”

His expression darkens at your words, his jaw clenching briefly. He knows you have a point – the cabin is secluded, and they're surrounded by miles of isolated wilderness during this heavy winter. But that thought alone makes him uneasy.

“Winter? That's months, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah and? All we do is slowly die when we’re walking in the snow. Nothing changes, it's just dreadful and cold,” You said, finally looking back at him again.

He scoffs at your words, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"And what, stay here and wait it out? What if someone finds us? Or if we run out of supplies?"

He shakes his head, his whole body tense. He's not used to being told what to do, let alone by a pretty girl half his age.

“We kill them and we find more supplies, you’re good at that stuff why are you afraid all of a sudden?”

"I'm not afraid."

He snaps, his voice gruff. He's irritated by your insistence and the fact you seem to have no fear.

"I'm being cautious. We can't rely on blind luck forever."

He runs a hand through his hair, frustration clear in every line of his face. Your casual attitude is beginning to wear on his nerves.

“But we should bask in it for a while, c'mon you said it yourself. You need some peace.”

You said in a matter of fact tone.

He can't argue with your logic, and that makes it even more frustrating. He lets out a weary sigh, his gaze returning to the fire.

"Fine. We'll stay here for the winter. But the moment it becomes dangerous, we're out of here, got it? No arguments."

“Yes sir,” You said with a mock salute.

He rolls his eyes at your sarcastic tone, a hint of annoyance on his face.

"Watch it, sweetheart."

He's trying to sound irritated, but there's a hint of amusement in his voice. He's actually a little entertained by your feistiness.

⋆꙳•❅*• ��*❆ ₊ ⋆꙳•❅*• •*❆ ₊⋆꙳•❅*• •*❆ ₊⋆ ⋆꙳•❅*• •*❆

A few days have passed since the decision to stay at the cabin. Despite the initial tension, the two of you have settled into a somewhat comfortable routine. The cabin is still relatively barren, but it has become a makeshift home of sorts.

Joel sits by the fireplace, sharpening one of his knives. The repetitive scrape of the blade against the stone is the only sound in the room. He glances over at you.

You were sitting in the corner of the worn down sofa reading one of the books in the abandoned bookshelf.

He continues sharpening his knife, but his attention drifts towards you. You seem engrossed in the book, the fire casting a cozy glow on your face. He watches you for a moment, his mind seemingly elsewhere.

Eventually, he breaks the silence.

"What're you reading?"

You turned the book over showing him the cover.

“The Da Vinci Code”

He raises an eyebrow at the title, a hint of surprise on his face. He didn't take you for a Da Vinci Code fan.

“Ah, the Da Vinci Code. Heard about it but never read it myself.”

He sets his knife and sharpening stone aside, turning his attention fully towards you.

“Is it any good?”

“So far yeah, just a bunch of history.”

You shrugged.

He lets out a soft, almost amused chuckle.

"Surprised you're into history."

He's not trying to be condescending, just making an observation. History isn't something he associates with women your age, nor something he usually finds particularly interesting.

“Just somethin’ to read.”

"Fair enough."

He leans back against the wall, crossing his arms. The silence stretches for a few moments, but it isn't uncomfortable. It's the kind of silence that comes with familiarity and shared space. He continues to watch you, his expression a bit softer than usual.

You tried your hardest to move my eyes away from joel and back onto the words on the yellow pages. But joel just looked good like this. Like he wasn’t looking behind his back constantly, warm and domestic even.

Unaware of your thoughts, Joel continues to gaze at you. It's as if he's seeing you in a different light. You're so young, and yet here you are, braving the horrors of this world without breaking. He feels a strange sense of protectiveness towards you, even though he knows you can take care of yourself. He tries to ignore this feeling, but it gnaws at him, like a stubborn itch he can't scratch.

Hours have passed, and the sky outside has grown dark. The only source of light in the cabin is the flickering fire, casting dancing shadows across the room.

Joel is still leaning against the wall, his eyes closed. He looks like he might have been dozing off, but he suddenly stirs, his eyes snapping open. He glances around the room, his gaze finally settling on you.

You fell asleep on the couch with the book on your rising and falling stomach.

He raises an eyebrow at the sight of you, a soft chuckle escaping him. You look so peaceful in your sleep, despite the harsh world outside.

He stands and silently crosses the room towards you. Crouching beside the couch, he carefully lifts the book off your stomach and sets it aside. He covers you with a coarse blanket, his touch surprisingly gentle.

You stirred in your sleep, reaching out for Joel.

He freezes as you reach out, his heart skipping a beat. For a moment, he's torn between pulling away or giving in to the strange urge to move closer. He doesn't understand why the sight of you, half-asleep and grabbing for him, affects him so deeply.

Eventually, he decides to give in to the impulse. He gently takes your hand in his, his rough fingers closing around yours.

“Stay,” you whispered.

His breath hitches in his throat as he hears your whispered request. He was not prepared to hear those simple yet impactful words from your lips. His gaze softens as he looks down at you, your hand still clasped in his.

“I...I'll stay.”

He responds, his voice unusually quiet, almost intimate. He gently squeezes your hand in reassurance, a gesture of comfort and perhaps something more.

You moved to make room for him on the couch.

He hesitates for a moment, his eyes locked onto the empty space beside you on the couch. But he ultimately decides to give in, easing himself down next to you, careful not to disturb your sleep.

His body is stiff at first, the unfamiliar closeness making him feel vulnerable. But slowly, he relaxes as he feels the warmth of your body next to his. He lets out a quiet sigh, his hand still holding yours, as he closes his eyes, listening to the steady rhythm of your breath.

You burrowed yourself more into his warmth.

Despite his initial tension, Joel finds himself responding to your nearness, his body betraying him. He wraps his arm around you, carefully pulling you closer, as if trying to shield you from the world outside.

He breathes in your scent, a mixture of the subtle fragrance of your skin and the slight musk of the wilderness. It feels oddly soothing, grounding him in this moment, this bubble of quiet intimacy.

He can feel your heartbeat against his chest, a gentle rhythm that calms his racing thoughts. For a while, he just lies there, lost in his own musings and the unfamiliar sensations coursing through him. He remembers the days when he rarely let himself get close to anyone, the days when he was so closed off that physical contact felt foreign to him. And here he is now, his arm around a girl half his age, and it doesn't feel wrong. It feels...safe.

You felt very safe in his arms as you drifted off back to sleep.

He feels you relax further in his arms, your breathing slowing as you fall back into a deeper slumber. For a long moment, he continues to lie there, simply holding you close, feeling the rise and fall of your chest against his. Then, he gently shifts onto his side, pulling you even closer, his arm tightening protectively around you.

The pale morning light streams through the lone window of the cabin, illuminating the small space. Joel slowly opens his eyes, bleary and disoriented.

For a moment, he forgets where he is. But then he feels the weight of you in his arms, your head on his chest, and everything comes rushing back. He tenses for a second, reality hitting hard, but he quickly adjusts to the situation.

He glances down at you, his gaze softens as he watches you sleep peacefully.

He realizes that he's still holding you, his arm wrapped around your waist, your leg draped across his, the blanket tangled around both of you. He can feel the warmth of your body against his, the rise and fall of your chest as you breathe. It dawns on him that, for the first time in a long while, he actually slept through the night.

He doesn't move, not wanting to disturb your rest. He simply lies there, contemplating the strange intimacy that has developed between the two of you.

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts. He's getting too comfortable, too vulnerable. But he can't lie to himself - holding you feels good. It feels safe. And that thought scares him more than anything he's faced in this god-forsaken world.

You began to stir a little.

He feels you start to move against him, and he reflexively tightens his hold on you, his protective instincts kicking in. He watches you closely, his gaze fixed on your face as he waits for you to fully awake.

“Mmh you’re warm,” you said, clearly still half-asleep.

A faint smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he hears your sleepy grumble. He relaxes a little, his grip on you loosening slightly, but his arm remains wrapped around you.

“And you're surprisingly clingy,” he replies, his voice teasing but a hint of affection in it.

You blushed and turned around in his hold.

He chuckles softly as you turn around, facing him. Your sudden closeness creates an intimate moment, and his initial teasing comment seems to have backfired on him. He can see the slight flush on your cheeks, and it does something to him. His arm instinctively tightens again, as if he can't bear the thought of letting you go.

He clears his throat, trying to regain his composure, but he can't find the right words. He just stares at you, the early morning light illuminating your face, making you look soft and vulnerable. He can feel his heart racing, his mind filled with a whirl of conflicting emotions.

You stirred more this time, definitely waking up.

He watches as you continue to stir, slowly coming to wakefulness. He knows that whatever moment they were just sharing is about to end. He loosens his grip on you a bit, not wanting to come across as too possessive.

“Mornin’, sweetheart.” He tries to sound nonchalant, but there's a hint of huskiness in his voice.

“Hi,” you spoke from his shoulder.

He feels a shiver run down his spine as he hears your voice, muffled against his shoulder. The sound of it, sleepy and unguarded, does something to him, and he has to fight the urge to pull you closer.

"Sleep well?" He asks, clearing his throat again to mask the unexpected effect you have on him.

“Hm don’t let it get to your head but that might’ve been the best sleep I’ve ever had.”

He can't help the smirk that forms on his lips at your comment, the pride he feels in knowing that he was a part of your peaceful slumber. He gives you a light nudge with his shoulder.

"Oh, trust me, it's already getting to my head, sweetheart."

You pushed at his chest and laughed.

God your laughter, it was one of the sweetest things Joel has ever heard.

He laughs along with you, surprised at how easily you make him laugh. It's a sound he hasn't made in a long time. When you push at his chest, he feigns being hurt, clutching at his heart.

“Hey, careful there. I'm an old man, you know.”

“Oh right I forgot I was dealing with a senior citizen.”

He narrows his eyes at you, the smirk returning to his face. He can't help but find your playful banter entertaining.

“Watch it, sweetheart. It's disrespectful to speak to your elders like that. I might have to teach you a lesson.”

He says this with mock seriousness, his hand coming to rest on your waist.

He catches the shift in your laughter, the tension suddenly palpable. His hand stills on your waist, fingers gently tracing circles on your skin, almost involuntarily. He looks at you, studying your reaction, his expression a mixture of amusement and something deeper.

“Something wrong?” He asks, his tone low and gruff.

“N-No of course not.”

He can see the slight flush on your cheeks, the way your eyes dart away from his gaze. It makes him curious, it makes him want to push you further.

“You're not a good liar, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his hand trailing higher on your waist, his touch becoming more deliberate.

“Wasn’t lyin—”

He notices your breath hitching, a smirk tugging at his lips. He knows he's getting a rise out of you, and he can't help but enjoy it.

“Really? Your face says otherwise.”

He takes a chance, leaning in a little closer, his other hand coming up to graze your jawline.

“Joel…”

Hearing his name come from your lips, so soft and breathy, has an effect on him he hadn't expected. He swallows hard, his gaze locked on you. He can't help but close the distance between you a little more, his hand still on your waist.

“Yes?” He asks, his voice gruff and low.

His gaze darkens, and his grip on your waist tightens a fraction.

“I want you. All of you.”

He says it with a quiet intensity, as if the admission is both a confession and a realization. The last remnants of his composure are slipping away, leaving only raw desire in their wake.

You blushed and put your softer smaller hands over Joel’s big rough ones.

The simple gesture of your hands covering his, so innocent and yet so intimate, nearly undoes him. He lets out a ragged breath, his gaze locked on you, his whole being consumed by the need to be closer to you. He tugs you closer, his arm around your waist sliding down to your hip, pulling you onto his lap so you're straddling him.

You gasped at the sudden change in position. The grogginess from your sleep is now gone.

Your gasp sends a thrill down Joel’s spine, and he watches your eyes widen as you settle over him. His hands stay firm on your hips, grounding you, keeping you close. There’s something almost reverent in the way he looks at you—like you’re something he’s been craving for longer than he’d care to admit.

“You good?” he murmurs, eyes scanning your face, even as his thumbs stroke slow, lazy circles into your skin.

You nod, breathless. “Y-Yeah…”

That’s all he needs.

He leans in, brushing his lips against yours—not quite a kiss yet, just a tease, a promise. You chase his mouth instinctively, and he grins into it, finally closing the distance and capturing your lips in a kiss that’s slow and deep and filled with heat. There’s nothing rushed about it—Joel kisses you like he wants to memorize you, like he wants to make it last.

Your fingers slide into his hair, tugging gently, and he groans into your mouth. That sound vibrates through you, making your core tighten, your body arch into his. He shifts his hips beneath you, and the friction pulls a soft moan from your lips. You feel him—hard and warm beneath the thin barrier of clothes—and it only heightens the growing ache inside you.

“You feel what you do to me, baby?” he whispers against your lips, his voice thick and gravelly. “Every damn time I’m near you…”

His mouth moves to your neck, kissing a line up to just below your ear, sucking lightly on the spot that makes your hips twitch. His hands trail up under your shirt, calloused palms brushing up your spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Take this off,” he growls softly, tugging at the hem of your shirt. You lift your arms and let him pull it over your head, and the moment your chest is bare to him, he curses under his breath.

“Christ…” His hands cup your breasts, thumbs brushing across your nipples until they pebble under his touch. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect.”

Your head falls back when he leans down and takes one into his mouth, sucking gently while his hand keeps working the other. The pleasure blooms fast, hot and dizzying, and you can’t stop the sounds you’re making—needy, breathless gasps that make Joel’s grip on you tighten.

You grind down against him instinctively, and the way he growls low in his throat makes you feel powerful and small all at once.

“You gonna let me have you, sweetheart?” he rasps, pulling back just enough to look up at you—his pupils blown wide, his chest rising fast beneath you.

“You already do,” you whisper, hips rolling against his once more.

His lips crash into yours again, hungrier now, more urgent. One hand slides into the waistband of your shorts, slipping inside to find the heat waiting there.

“Fuck… you’re soaked,” he murmurs, rubbing slow, tight circles over your clit with his fingers. “You want me this bad already?”

You can’t even form words—you just nod, whimpering when he presses a thick finger inside you, then another. He works you open slowly, watching your face the entire time, learning what makes you tremble, what makes you gasp.

And then he’s pulling his fingers out, tugging his shirt over his head and shoving his sweats down just enough to free himself. Your eyes drop, and you suck in a breath—he’s big, thick, and already leaking at the tip.

“You sure?” he asks, voice wrecked and barely holding on. “Tell me now if you’re not.”

“I’m sure,” you breathe, bracing your hands on his chest.

He guides you down onto him inch by inch, the stretch making your breath catch, your nails dig into his skin. Joel groans, low and deep, as he sinks all the way into you.

Once you’re seated fully, he stills, letting you adjust, his hands holding your hips tight. Your forehead rests against his as you both breathe through the heat coiling tight between you.

“Look at me,” he whispers.

You meet his eyes, and then you move—slow, grinding circles with your hips that make both of you moan. Joel’s hands help you set a rhythm, and soon you’re moving together, your bodies rocking in sync, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing in the quiet room.

Every thrust, every grind, builds the pressure in your belly higher, tighter. He kisses you again, messy and deep, and then trails his lips down your throat.

“That’s it, baby… come for me,” he growls. “Come on my cock.”

His words send you over the edge, your body trembling as pleasure crashes through you, and Joel follows with a guttural groan, spilling into you as he buries his face in your neck.

You collapse against him, both of you breathless, skin sticky with sweat and heat. He holds you close, fingers drawing lazy shapes on your back.

“Yeah,” he murmurs after a beat. “Definitely the best sleep you’ve ever had.”

You laugh softly, chest still rising fast. “And the best wake-up.”

“Damn right,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “But just so you know… I ain’t done with you yet.”

The fire was down to glowing embers when you finally slipped out of bed, the heavy chill in the air biting at your bare skin. You tugged on one of Joel’s flannels and some thick socks, the scent of him still clinging to the fabric. Joel sat on the edge of the bed lacing up his boots, his brow furrowed in that familiar, quiet determination.

“Where are you going?” you asked, voice still a little hoarse from sleep and everything else.

He looked up, softening a little at the sight of you bundled in his shirt. “Out to check the traps. Might be somethin’ in ‘em. We’re down to one can of beans and a bag of rice.”

You frowned, arms crossing tightly over your chest. “It’s freezing out there. Can’t we do it later? Or… I’ll come with you.”

He shook his head, already shrugging on his jacket. “I won’t be long. Just a loop around the ridge. No sense in both of us freezin’ our asses off.”

“You always say that, Joel, but it’s been getting colder every day. What if you slip on the ice or—”

He stopped lacing, looked up at you with that patient-but-firm look that made your stomach twist with frustration and affection.

“I’ll be fine, sweetheart. Done this kinda thing more times than I can count.” He stood and crossed the room, cupping your cheek with a warm, calloused hand. “I just need you to keep the fire goin’ and maybe have some coffee ready for when I’m back.”

You leaned into his touch despite yourself. “I hate it when you leave.”

“I know.” He brushed his lips over your forehead, then your mouth—slow and sweet, like a promise. “I’ll be back before you miss me too much.”

And just like that, he was gone, boots crunching through the snow, axe slung over his shoulder.

The hours passed slowly.

You kept the fire fed, stacked kindling, reheated what little food you had. Every time the wind howled against the cabin walls, you peeked out the frosted window, searching for his shape.

But true to his word, Joel returned just as the sun began to dip, cheeks red from the cold, a rabbit slung over his shoulder and a small proud smirk on his face.

“Told you,” he said, shaking the snow from his jacket at the door. “Still in one piece.”

You rolled your eyes and threw your arms around him anyway, burying your face in his chest. “Took you long enough.”

He held you tight, his body radiating warmth, and nuzzled into your hair.

“Missed me already, huh?”

You mumbled against him, “I always do.”

He kissed you again, this one a little hungrier, hands cold on your waist but body warm and solid, the rabbit forgotten on the floor.

“You keep lookin’ at me like that,” he muttered, breath hot against your cheek, “I’m gonna have to earn my coffee another way.”

Joel’s arms tightened around you, the weight of his return finally settling in your chest. He was always gone longer than he said he’d be—always underestimating the cold, or the time, or maybe just how anxious you got when you were left alone in this empty cabin with nothing but the wind and your own thoughts.

You stayed wrapped around him for another few moments, breathing him in. Snow and pine and faint sweat. That leather smell of his jacket, the scratch of his beard against your temple.

“You’re freezing,” you murmured.

“Snow’s gettin’ thicker out by the ridge. Almost lost the trail twice.” His hand rubbed slow circles on your back, thawing through the layers. “Traps were half-buried. I dug ’em out.”

You pulled back enough to glance up at him, your fingers brushing over his beard where the tips of it still glittered with frost. “You didn’t fall, did you?”

Joel huffed. “No. Took it slow. Careful, like I promised.”

That earned him a quiet smile, but the worry hadn’t fully left your chest. “You really found something?”

He nodded and gestured toward the rabbit lying just inside the door on a patch of burlap. “One little guy, but he’s good-sized. That’ll stretch us a few meals if we ration it.”

Your stomach gave a quiet gurgle in agreement. He caught it and grinned.

“Why don’t you sit?” you said, stepping back toward the hearth. “I’ll heat up water. Your hands are like ice.”

Joel sat with a soft grunt, joints stiff from the cold and the work, and stripped off his jacket and gloves. You poured water into the tin pot and set it near the fire, watching him from the corner of your eye as he rolled his shoulders and rubbed at his hands.

They were raw and red, the backs of them weather-beaten and scarred from years of hard work, and you found yourself crossing back to him with the little tin of balm you kept on the shelf.

“Give me your hands,” you said gently.

Joel blinked at you. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

With a quiet sigh, he surrendered them, holding them out palms-up as you dipped your fingers into the salve and began working it gently into the rough skin. He didn’t speak at first, just watched you. Watch how your brows furrowed in concentration, how careful you were with him.

“You got good hands,” he said softly. “Real gentle.”

You glanced up, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. “I’ve had a lot of practice taking care of stubborn men.”

He chuckled low in his chest, but it faded quickly, replaced by something quieter.

“I’m not used to this,” he admitted after a moment. “Comin’ back to someone. Feels good. But it's strange.”

You paused, fingers still curled around him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His eyes searched yours for a long, heavy beat. “I know.”

The fire popped softly behind you, filling the quiet that followed. You finished tending to his hands, then leaned down and pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist, just where his pulse beat steadily. He watched you like he couldn’t believe you were real.

“Alright,” you said, breaking the spell before it got too thick between you. “Let’s clean that rabbit.”

Joel stood slowly, groaning like the old man he always claimed to be, and retrieved the burlap sack. You helped him set up on the back table near the door where it was cooler, handing him his blade while you gathered bowls and cloths. The two of you worked in sync, the process methodical—Joel skinning and cleaning the meat with quiet skill, you preparing a small stew pot to simmer bones and scraps.

“You ever butcher anything before?” he asked, glancing at you.

“Nope. I just pretend to know what I’m doing.”

He smirked. “Could’ve fooled me. You’re more helpful than most I’ve known.”

You shrugged. “You bring home the food, I make it last. Fair deal.”

You caught him watching you again—like he was tucking the image away for later. The pot clanged softly as you set it over the fire, steam already curling upward as the fat began to melt.

Soon the little cabin filled with the smell of meat and rosemary—leftover from a stash you’d found in a forgotten spice cabinet. The mix of warmth, firelight, and the comforting aroma created a bubble against the harsh world just outside the frosted windows.

As the stew simmered, you both settled by the fire again. Joel sat with his back to the hearth, legs stretched out, while you leaned into his side, your head resting on his shoulder. He pulled a blanket over the two of you and settled his arm around you like it was second nature.

Outside, the wind howled, snow sweeping past the windows in swirling white ribbons, but here it was warm. Safe.

Your eyes slipped shut as his hand idly traced up and down your spine, the rhythm of it as steady as his breathing.

“Still cold?” he murmured.

You shook your head against him. “Not with you here.”

Joel didn’t answer, but you felt the way he held you tighter.

The worst of the cold had finally loosened its grip.

It didn’t vanish overnight, of course. Winter in this part of the country never did. But there were signs—tiny, quiet things. The way the wind didn’t scream quite as hard through the cracks in the cabin walls. The longer stretch of golden light that filtered through the windows in the late afternoon. The sound of dripping icicles on the porch roof, melting slow and steady. A promise, almost.

You and Joel had settled into something unspoken but good. A rhythm. A way of moving around each other that felt easy. Reliable. Like the creak of the cabin’s floorboards or the hiss of the kettle heating on the stove.

Mornings came quietly now. Not with desperate shivers or the panic of dwindling rations, but with small moments of peace. Joel always rose first—he’d stoke the fire, make coffee, and sometimes if he was feeling generous, dig out some of the dried fruit you both had been hoarding. You’d wake to the sound of the tin cups clinking or the soft hum of him stirring oatmeal. And sometimes, if he thought you were still asleep, he’d mutter a tune under his breath—something old and Southern and low enough that it blended with the wind outside.

You didn’t call him out for it. Just smiled quietly against the pillow and pretended to sleep a little longer.

You’d help him with the chores after that. He’d go check the traps while you swept the floor, tidied the shelves, boiled snow for drinking water. When he came back, you’d help him skin whatever he’d caught—rabbit, mostly, sometimes a squirrel if he was lucky. You never liked the mess, but he’d watch your hands, always patient, always ready to nudge you through it.

“You’ve got a stronger stomach than you think,” he told you once, rinsing blood from his hands in the snow. “Just takes gettin’ used to.”

And maybe he was right, because none of it felt so jarring anymore. None of it felt wrong.

In the evenings, you’d sit by the fire together, sharing whatever meal you managed that day. There was rarely enough for full seconds, but neither of you complained. Joel would whittle sometimes—little pieces of wood that he shaped into animals or stars or once, a crooked little bird you kept on the mantel. He’d pass it to you without a word, and you’d accept it like a gift, because it was.

You didn’t talk about what came next. Neither of you brought up spring in the way that people do when they’re planning to move on. You didn’t make maps or speak of the nearest settlement. No talk of returning to the road, or of going back to the people who might be waiting somewhere.

You just stayed.

It was one of those days when the snow was soft instead of sharp, when the sky outside the cabin glowed with pale light and the chill inside wasn’t unbearable. You’d both been inside most of the day, tending to little things—patching a tear in your coat, organizing the few supplies in your pack. Joel had been quiet, more than usual, but not distant.

After dinner, the fire had been roaring strong. You were sitting on the floor in front of it, your knees tucked under you, Joel behind you on the edge of the mattress. You’d pulled your hair back, neck bare, as you rubbed balm into the dry skin on your hands. His gaze had been on you for a while—unspoken, steady.

“C’mere,” he said, voice low.

You looked up. “What?”

“Come here.”

You stood slowly and moved toward him. When you stopped in front of him, his hands came to your hips, slow and careful. He looked up at you like you were something that had crept quietly into his chest and refused to leave.

“You cold?” he murmured.

You shook your head. “Not right now.”

“Good,” he said, and his hands slid up under your sweater.

You didn’t move. Couldn’t. The firelight made his eyes look darker, and his touch was soft—just fingertips tracing the curve of your waist, up your ribs, over the hem of your worn shirt. You inhaled quietly, and Joel watched the movement of your chest, eyes flickering there, then back to yours.

“I think about this all the time,” he admitted. “How you look. How you feel. What it’d be like.”

You licked your lips, heat coiling low in your stomach. “You already know what I feel like.”

He pulled you gently down, guiding you into his lap, his knees spreading so you could straddle him. Your legs settled around his hips, your hands going to his shoulders for balance. It felt natural. Like this wasn’t the first time, even though it was.

“But not like this,” he said, eyes roaming your face. “Not slow. Not how you deserve.”

You reached down and ran your fingers through his hair, brushing your thumbs along the curve of his jaw. “Then show me.”

That was all it took.

Joel’s mouth was on yours, slow but sure. Not tentative—he didn’t kiss like a man unsure of himself. But there was care in it. Patience. The kind of kiss that made your hands shake a little and your chest ache. He held your waist while you kissed him back, your body flush against his. You could feel him getting harder beneath you, feel the quiet groan he let out against your lips when your hips shifted instinctively.

“You feel good,” he muttered against your skin, lips brushing along your jaw, your throat. “So fuckin’ good, sweetheart.”

Your sweater was pulled over your head in a smooth motion, and Joel’s hands were on you—exploring like he was memorizing. No rush. He didn’t just grab; he held. Palmed the curve of your back. Let his rough fingers ghost over your chest, your stomach, leaving heat in their wake.

When you pulled his shirt off, you took your time too. Traced the line of his collarbone, the faded scars along his ribs. He let you. Watched you.

The mattress creaked quietly beneath you as he lowered you down, blanketing you with his body, the fire crackling behind him. And when he finally pressed into you—slow, thick, deep—you felt the air leave your lungs in one long breath.

“Joel,” you whispered, overwhelmed by the stretch, the heat, the way he filled you so completely.

His head dropped to your shoulder, his breath ragged. “You’re alright,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

You moved together slowly. No frantic pace. Just the kind of rhythm that came from knowing each other—really knowing. Joel’s forehead pressed to yours, his hand laced with yours above your head, your other palm resting over his thudding heart.

You didn’t say much. Just soft gasps, whispered names, the occasional curse when the pleasure overwhelmed you both.

When it was over, Joel didn’t pull away.

He stayed on top of you, warm and heavy and safe, his nose pressed into your neck. Your fingers played lazily with the hair at the nape of his neck, your leg curled around his.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he said, voice low and hoarse.

“I know,” you whispered.

And you meant it.

One month bled into another one. Joel started teaching you how to shoot—slow, careful lessons with his old pistol in the clearing out back. He’d stand behind you, one hand steady on your shoulder, the other adjusting your grip.

“You’re a good learner,” he said once, after you hit the bottle dead center. “Better shot than me when I was your age.”

You’d laughed, breath fogging in the cold. “You were probably wild and reckless.”

“Still am,” he teased, nudging your side. “But now I know how to aim.”

That night you cleaned the pistol together on the table, Joel’s flannel draped over your shoulders as you sat beside him. He handed you the cloth and watched you move with the same focus he gave to every task. No distractions. Just the work. Just you.

There were no declarations. No sudden confessions. But the way he touched your back before bed, or the way he pulled you closer under the blankets without a word—those were his language. That was how Joel said stay.

And you did.

Every morning, you woke to the quiet weight of him beside you. Sometimes his hand brushed against your hip. Sometimes your legs tangled under the blanket. Sometimes you’d wake in the middle of the night, and he’d already be awake, watching the dying fire like it held all his thoughts.

He never said what haunted him, and you never asked. You just leaned into him, warm and soft, and his arm would come around you like it always did—steady, grounding.

You never had a moment of decision. No single conversation. But one morning you woke to the sound of birds—actual birds—and Joel handed you a mug of coffee with a faint smile and said, “Spring’s comin’.”

And instead of saying anything about leaving, you just sipped your drink, leaned your head on his shoulder, and nodded.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “It is.”

tags: @yuskitty @moonshapedflan @xodilfluvr @annulmaelae @zevrra @alidiggory92

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eraserbread · 3 months ago

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Whats on my mind… oh nothing 😞 just uhhh reverse cowgirl mirror sex where Nanami forces you to watch yourself 😔

"do you trust me?"

you nod slowly in the bathroom, pressed against the counter with your husband at your back. it's date night, your favorite and a pain in the ass for kento. you two have a standing agreement - twice a month. he plans everything, never asking for further input, because loving you was not your responsibility, it's his.

the night went off without a hitch -- expensive dinner in the city, shimmering diamond boxes, and your sweet smile wrapped up in a modest dress.

six hours outside of the comfort of his home has him treasuring the twenty minutes back. now, he's watching you pick your jewelry off in the bathroom mirror, smiling shyly at him every few seconds when you feel his eyes linger.

you're playing your stupid sad music, and he's dealing with it for so long, because you just look so beautiful. so pristine and stoic when you're coming undone. almost... edible.

"look at you," he mutters, thick fingers finding the hidden zipper on your dress. in the large front-facing mirror, you give him a passing side-eye, swallowing back a giggle. "beautiful."

"stop," you tease, placing your bracelet upon your pile of gold to filter through later. "I'm not even doing anything."

"you don't have to constantly perform to be beautiful to me," he reassures, kissing over your bare shoulder before pulling the zipper to your waistline. the fabric bunches around your figure, loose and welcoming. kento's lips meet the middle of your back, just under your neck. it tickles, you draw a half-smile.

and you know it's coming, but you still gasp. he presses a hand to the small of your back, forcing you into a perfect ninety-degree over the cool porcelain.

your dress comes undone around you, falling from your body and hanging on like a vice. nanami tugs it from your skin and tosses it away. all you're left in, blinking up to see him through the mirror, is your underwear. no bra, no slip, no cover—just you and your flesh-colored decency.

"you always know the right things to say." you reply, voice muffled as you rest your chin on crossed arms. behind you, he's pulling open his shirt, smiling so fast that you could blink and miss it.

making love is muscle memory, now. kento's always and easily hard for you -- you're always welcoming with slickness and beauty. if you were counting, surely it'd be the fourteen-hundredth time he's slid your panties to the side and dragged his beautiful flushing tip between your cunt, sending a steady stream of air between his teeth.

he closes both big hands over your waist, guiding you back to slide against his cock. you're coating him thoroughly in all of your arousal, whining stupidly in your skin, begging for more.

"please, baby." you bite, furrowing your head deeper into your arms as his cock just eases right in that perfect little dip of your entrance before popping free.

breathless already, kento nods. "look at me, doll. can i see your face?"

"put... put it in." you ignored him, so kento ignores you. instead, he wraps his hand around the front of your neck, pulling you flush to his clothed chest. you're bare, blushing, and completely at his visual mercy. the soft hum of background music covers your little whines enough that you weren't as embarrassed.

"look at me." he tries again, peeking his head in the crook of your shoulder. he leans down, kissing your dewy jawline and licking over your neck. he's humping over you from behind, tight hips focused and precise as he hits the promise of penetration every time. "nanami, open those eyes."

"so embarrassing," you shake your head, brave enough right now to defy him without second thought. you could open your eyes to study his flushed, serious face bright against your skin, but that means you'd also have to see your flushed, horny skin and smudged makeup.

"what is embarrassing? i don't understand. it took you nearly two hours to do your makeup in this same mirror tonight."

"that's different-

"no, it's not." he cuts you off, tone dipping into that familiar authoritative way that makes your knees buckle.

your nanami is strong enough to lift anything. with or without his curse, so it's nothing for him to lean down, sliding his hands behind your knees. you're not sure what you're expecting, but it's not for him to hoist you up.

jarred, your hands fly up for some kind of stability. you end up with one curled around the back of his neck, the other digging into the muscle of his arm that's holding you up.

"what are yo-

"hm," he answers for you, taking a step closer to the edge. he guides your dangling heels down into the counter, kissing all over the back of your neck. he drags one hand free from holding you up, taking it down to his cock to position it just right for gravity to sink you down half an inch. it's enough to pull a reaction out of you, just to knock you breathless.

"ohmygod, can't-

"you will." he's demanding you with a dark edge to his careful tone, pushing his hips far enough for the angle to give his cock the perfect shot at that spongy, sweet spot inside of you.

you're tossing your head to the side, warding off his dark stare over your shoulder. then, he's taking a big step back, leaving your toes grasping for friction and your body loose enough to slide all the way down his thick length.

the intrusion sucks a deep cry from your lungs, eyelashes fluttering as your eyes squeeze shut. "f-fu, kentooo!"

in the mirror, nanami's eyes are hooked onto the slick intrusion, obsessed with the way his cock disappears inside of you. your thighs are trembling in your reflection, warm pussy blooming deep red from the stretch. he has to swallow down anxious gobs of want just so he doesn't loose control and fuck you in the way he knows he shouldn't

But it's hard—impossible, really. you're whining so pretty, clawing at him so needily, saying his name like it's your gospel. he's obsessed with it—with you and how you take him like it's the first time, every single time.

he thinks all of these sinful thoughts as you gather your bearings, eventually blinking open your eyes for an intense blush to coat your naked body.

the reflection you find yourself staring into is lewd but personal and beautiful in a way only you and kento could achieve. he's so tall behind you, big and caring as his hips rock upward, fucking you so gently and loving. he's kissing all over you, but only where he can still blink up and watch your needy, perfect cunt swallow him up like a pill.

smudged makeup runs down your face as tears spring to the surface. you're so off balance, that you let yourself fall back on him, and he doesn't even falter. kento holds you tighter, completely pressing your thighs into your chest and running his tongue across your shoulder.

"watch it, dear. look how you're taking me," he bites out, tongue running over his top lip. thick lines of arousal drip and squelch against his cock and it's so filthy to watch, but you do. you're a good listener, and nanami loves how embarrassed you get when he steers too lewd. "it's my favorite view. just wanted you to see this time."

"st-stop, it's too muchhhh -- fuck!"

"it's okay, you're okay, i know."

"mmh, i'm gonna..!"

"yeah? keep those eyes open." kento's whispering in your ear and his voice is so sinful and graceful, laced with so much beauty and love. "ah - open'em."

for the first time in forever, ken cums before you. he's biting into your shoulder, keeping his eyes open and staring into your stretched cunt. like a gentleman, he fucks you through it, staccato grunts growing more desperate with each dragging thrust.

this time, you're caught staring as the seed coating his length forms a sticky, white rim against the base. it's so unapologetically sinful that it drives you crazy and fuels your heart and mind in so many beautiful love-licked ways.

his familiar face is stoic, yet ever-changing as he pants and kisses your ear. thoughtful to the core, kento doesn't stop until you're crying his name and gushing warmth all over his stained cock, begging him for more he's already given, but would give you ten times over.

you two have found it—that perfect semblance of give and take that makes every emotion and touch light fires you didn't even know existed. kento is so gentle when he puts you back down on your feet, chasing kisses when you turn around that you give, and he takes.

it's a lifetime thing. an unsaid thing.

a beautiful thing.

#awwww they're (we're) so in loveeee <333 #.nanami <3 #eraserasks #.the wife guy!! <3 #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami smut #kento smut #kento x reader #kento nanami x you #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento x you #.favs :o

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