#pixel daddy joel

[romanarose]

Puppet

Boston!Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Read on ao3 : TLOU masterlist

Summery: Unable to bear the pain of life without Sarah, Joel burries it and himself inside his favorite doll. His fingers dance along your skin, controlling every move of his precious puppet

or

Something, something, no strings attached?

Warnings: I cannot give a comprehensive list of warnings. Wile no non con or dub con is employed, consider this fic to be open to dark themes including but not limited too mentions of Sarah's death and illusions to Joel suicide attempt, as well as Joel depression and anxiety. Hurt, some comfort??

Sexual content: (again, not comprehensive) Roughish sex but mutual consent to everything. Consider it some free use, he doesnt ask for permission but they have an arrangement. Vaginal fisting, manhandling, rough, sloppy upside down blowjob. throat fucking, gagging, lots of talk about kinda gross stuff like sweat and drool and musk. Ass eating (i know exactly the girlies this is for.) Lots of objectification about reader being a doll/puppet and Joel going a little off the rocker at the end there but I promise reader is having a great time, 10/10

2.5k Words

Told in Joel's POV, still a reader story. Bit of a different story telling mode for me, because it's literally just Joel's inner monologue. He doesn't say anything to you bc he's emotional closed off, but consider anything in italics what he wants to say.

Lil bit of latino Joel <3

It wasn’t love. It couldn’t be. Not when I can’t look you in the eye after bending your sweet body every which way, folding you and molding you into my perfect little creation. It was too dirty, cheap, nasty. We were using each other. That was the arrangement. Still, it was more than a quick fuck. 

It certainly wasn’t quick.

I like you wrecked, drenched, absolutely filthy to look at and so wrapped in pleasure you can’t walk right.

That’s not to say there hasn’t been those moments, times where I shoved you against an alleyway and slammed into your core, times where I know you tastedblood and brick and dirt as you clenched around me and I left you with nothing but scratches on your face and cum dripping down your legs. There have been days you don’t even see my face, only my familiar musk and grunts and warmth signaling you didn’t need to scream when I shove down your pants.

But there are nights like these I much prefer. I can’t say there is much for talking, certainly little for romancing. I’ll feed you if you’re hungry, which is a lot but not always. But you aren’t here for food, are you? You’re here to let go control, to allow yourself to be given over fully to another so that we can, for an hour or two, forget we were living in hell. Forget we were fighting every single fucking day to live. Forget we watched our loved ones die, children in our arms as we scream at God to take us instead.

I can forget when I’m inside you. 

You’re wet, warm, and you don’t ask much of me. You don’t ask for love or companionship, although I’m sure you’d take either if I offered, But I won’t. It’s not personal, it’s not about you. I just can’t give what I don’t have the capacity for anymore.

Still, despite the few words spoken between us I find you at my doorway again and again, begging to be filled by me, begging for it any way I want. You stopped asking me how I wanted you a long time ago, simply getting on the bed after stirpping without much fanfare. I can tell you try to add a little striptease here and there, and I let it slide despite not being a part of directions as long as you don’t get too cocky with it. I don’t need cocky. I need my cute little doll ready for me to play with, ready to take my cock in whatever hole I shove it in, waiting patiently and still for me to wind her up tight.

You looked like a doll too. Your puckered, pretty lips. Your large eyes gazing up at me. Your body so perfectly sculpted to my liking as if you were a dolly spin off of build-a-bear. In another time, I would have dated you, woo’d you, romanced your and waited weeks before sliding inside. I might have said I love you or even put a ring on your finger before I wrecked you, but that wasn’t the Joel I am now. Something inside me died on September 26th, something tha broke my ability to be the kind of man you deserved.

It didn’t stop me from making you gag.

Such a pretty play thing for me. Fuck doll, my favorite toy.

You know I don’t like your hands on me when you suck my dick.

It’s so disconnected I don’t know if I can even call it dick sucking or a blow job, through no fault of your own. You’re enthusiastic, and sometimes I can even see you smiling despite the stretch. No, this is on me. This is how I like it. I fuck your throat as your head hangs off the bed, watching as your body jolts in time to the constrictions of your throat, trying to get air through your nose as you struggle to breath because my balls keep slapping your face and plugging the only other option from oxygen… the undone flannel still covering my arms must tickle your skin. But you never push me off, never tap out, not even when I’m so deep in your lips are buried in the hair at the base of me, not even when I see the tip of my cock prod out your throat, and not when I wrap my hands around your pretty, dolly neck and use you to jerk off like a lifeless fleshlight. 

I pound myself into you, fucking your mouth like I do your sweet, tight pussy, the wet sounds of your saliva spilling out your mouth fill the room, mixed in with the russell of sheets from your writhing body. I like knowing I can make you move like this. You feel like home, you feel like forgetting, you feel like a comfort I can’t get from Oxy or booze or anything other than the sweet release of death. But I can’t take that route, not when I have Tommy to care for. 

If you put your hand on my thigh right now I might cry.

I release from you seconds before cumming, your body heaving to breathe again and I watch the drool run down your face and pool on the floor. I think about shoving your face in the slime and bile as I fuck your ass but that’s not what I need right now, and it’s not what you need either. I’m not selfish. Well, I am, but not with you. I’m cold, I’m mean, but I’m not cruel. I like you too, I like knowing I’m still good for something, that my hands are for more than killing, more than dumbly attempting to stop bleeding from bullet wounds. I like knowing they can be used for the pleasure of a pretty woman.

I don’t tell you where to go, I simply pick you up and throw you fully on the bed, watching as you bounce and shuck off flannel, making quick work of my white, sweat stained shirt. I haven’t showered. You havn’t given me the chance, jumping my bones like a whore begging for a fuck to pay for a meal. I think you like it, honestly. I see the way you look at me when we’re on a work sight together. You like walking away smelling like me, don't you? You like that my sweat had been rubbed all over you like an animal scenting his mate, my cum stuffed inside, my spit still glistening on your puffy pussy. Marking my territory.

You are mine, even if I can’t be yours. Even if I can’t give to you, I’ve taken all you are. If another man touches you, I’ll cut off his dick.

I grab your legs, yanking you so hard you fall backwards on the bed and your legs dangle off the edge..

I can’t tell you how pretty you are, spread out for me like this, awaiting for me to manipulate your body into my desires, mold you like I molded your insides to my cock, split you so fucking open every other limp-dicked lover that manages to stumble his way inside you feels empty. I can’t give you sweet nothings whispered in your ear or dirty encouragement, but I let you know how beautiful I find you as I lick and suck and bite my way down your body. I can’t kiss you, I can’t give you false pretense of what this is. I can’t take care of you after because I can’t look at you. Call it post-nut clarity, but I can’t face you anymore after I’ve destroyed you. Once we're done, the guilt sinks in. I swear to myself I won’t do this again, I won’t break a perfectly nice woman down into pieces when I can’t stomach putting her together again. 

I can’t play with my toys if I can’t fix them.

But soon enough you come knocking, or you’ll make fuck me eyes before slipping into an alley, and I’m ripping you open again. I’m drawn to you like a moth to a flame, hating myself and taking my shame out on you. You are the only thing that can distract me from the guilt of watching her die, and nothing can make me give up that sweet reprieve, even if that horror floods my body like a breaking damn as soon as the orgasm subsides. I’ll drown myself in you until I can’t breathe anymore.

Two fingers slip in easily by now. Three is a little more but you take it well. You always do. Four fingers was the most you’d ever taken, and when I add the pinky I hear you choke out a moan, your limbs moving when my hands do. I love how thoroughly I’ve wrecked you, dolly. I love how I can shove all three of my knuckles inside and feel that warmth on my frostbite damaged hands, noting all the details of your flesh on the burned pads of my fingers. 

You move so pretty for me, dolly.

My middle finger curls and your right fist clenches as your gasp. I spread my digits out and your head drops back. I swirl my thumb over your clit I spit on and your toes curl, crying my name. Hell, I move a pinky and your legs spread wider. It’s like I can control you from the inside.

You aren’t a doll after all. You’re a puppet.

My little hand puppet.

I take it further, sliding out my hand enough and reinserting it carefully with my thumb included. You scream my name, gripping the sheets as you bear the pain; I suckle on the sensitive swell between your folds. A promise that the pain will melt into pleasure.

I’ll take care of you, dolly, mi muñequita, mi marioneta, my perfect puppet dancing around for me on the stage of my sheets, twirling, whirling, swirling around in sin and sweat and screams.

A promise fulfilled, you begin whimpering the whiney, filthy needy thing that you are. Dirty puppet at my command, ready to fuck away all my pain burried in your tight cunt. You were burning on the inside, pulsing and drenching my arm as I fisted your hole, creating a fullness no one could give you. Me. Only me. No one could ever turn you into such a slobbering whore and make you look so pretty doing it. I want to leave my imprint, give as much as you could take and not a centimeter less, permanently burning my face in the plush of your thighs to hide the smile at your sounds reaching a fever pitch. The whole apartment knew who you belonged to, that the pretty woman banging on his door at all hours of the day was being fist fucked by the local drug dealer, that the dirt covered worker at the fires would have her face washed clean of soot with her own drool gagging on my cock.

When you come, I feel you in a way I’ve never felt you before. It was like you were swallowing me up, begging for more, dragging me inside. You come hard, legs shaking and I’m sure you’re eyes would be rolled back if they weren't clenched so damn tight. I continue to play you like my guitar, just to see what noises I can pull out of you.

Qué sonidos tan hermosos haces, marioneta

Your body prone and limp, I maneuver your dead weight closer to me. You let me climb on your body, know full well what I’m doing. I see a little smile on your sweet doll face, lying there so compliant and ready for me, your submissive body simple allowing me to degrade you further. I on your face, allowing you full, unfiltered access to my ass that you eagerly devour, the musk and sweat of manhood, of masculinity. Me. I feel your tongue at my entrance, prodding like the good little sex toy you are, always doing what you were made to, controlled by the strings of your hair being pulled down the bed cushion by knees. 

I take your hands, lying obediently at your sides and just like the docile puppet you are, you allow me to control your limbs. I take your wrists, guiding your hands over your gorgeous body. You’re sweet, too sweet, too petty. Dulzura. I pretend I’m painting your skin, a handmade marionette made just to dance for me, to fulfill your purpose of being mine, of bringing mutual pleasure to us both, to feel your master's hand inside you controlling your body and your mind made live at his creation and only meant to think thoughts of me. I let you caressed your breasts, feeling your body, appreciating it as I do.

I cum on your stomach, not even remembering when my right hand dropped yours in favor of my cock. Your body is painted in white and I have the indescribable urge to spread it, to massage it into your skin until it’s as much a part of you as the traumas we’ve both endured. I sit up and off your face in time that a few spurts of my seed tumbles onto your face, and as much as I want to see it, I can’t.

As much as I want to touch your body, I can’t. The high has ended and horrors have begun to creep in, the lurking shadows swirling and dancing on the walls, waiting for me to fall in, waiting for them to take me again, waiting for me to not miss this time. I feel my skin crawl, and I barely have it in to toss my flannel in your direction. Handing you something to clean the firth off you while I dig at my own skin is the least I can do and the most I can manage. 

I turn away from you, digging into my draws in a hurry to pull something on, to cover my shame and hatred in myself while you dress and leave in silence. I usually don’t even hear the door close, a vague reminder in my head that I have to go to lock my door before my stash of oxys and other substances get stolen being the only thing to pull me away from staring at the wall.

My chest feels tight, but this isn’t a new feeling. It’s not a heart attack, not this time. I feel sick to my stomach, guilt for feeling any sort of pleasure, and joy at all is felt in every nerves of my skin, hyper aware of the drafts in his home, the splintered wood of the floor at his feet. In another life, I’d bother sanding it, varshing it, or redoing it all together. Nothing was worth it anymore. My eyes burned. I hope you were gone, fucked full and smiling from a world bending orgasm and not feeling the sickness I feel in myself.

I only realize you’re still there when I feel your sticky skin press up against mine, your bare chest to my back. 

How perfectly your body fits so perfectly to mine, dolly, from every angle.

I turn around, and like a child in a thunderstorm, I hold my doll while I cry.

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!

I hope you liked the lil switcharoo ;-; and I know Joel is kinda ooc but i liked it!

I been listening to a lot of erotic audios lately and maybe this is where i get it from lolololol

If you like the doll/puppet kinda vibes but wished I went more into it, @missannwinchester has a great great great series called Plaything !!!!!! Joel is a lil freak and we love that for him!!!! one of those joels that stay in your mind for weeks, you know?

thank you to Alica for helping with the spanish!

tagging those who asked to be tagged and who i thought may enjoy!!!!!!!!! NO PRESSURE AT ALL i know we all got you know. real lives lol.

@pedge-page @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @strang3lov3 @alwaysmicado @hornystan @toxicanonymity @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @justagalwhowrites @femmeanonymelives

[wicked--loving--lies]

No matter what, you keep finding something to fight for.

[green--tea-owo]

i genuinely can't describe what i'm feeling rn. just blushing, giggling, kicking my feet and punching the air while screaming.

(all credits to the creator of this masterpiece. you blessed my eyes with this edit.)

[joelsbeard]

you and pre-outbreak!joel’s favorite sex positions 🤭🤭🤭 aside from missionary ofc bc if anything that man loves eye contact & intimacy with you 🤭

ENJOY!!!

nsfw links hehe 🤭:

#64 tango

#152 honeymoon (this one looks fucking bomb ik this mans dick is basically in your throat in this one)

#465 knight

#317 merger (he probably loves sucking on your tiddies in this one)

#458 jack (GOOD LORDDD this one is hot)

#313 chef (that eye contact tho )

#330 louise (<- ^ what the hell are these names, this one is cute tho its giving ✨ intimate✨ )

#150 reverse cowgirl (duh every cowboy needs his cowgirl ;) )

ugh just LOOK at this man he’s so fine, him manspreading does something to me. Need this man to fuck me on that couch in that jack position LMAO

gif credit: @pedgito

[josephquinnswhore]

another love message from mari! 💜

when I saw shirtless pixel joel I screamed & knew I had to share with everyone 🫶🏽

OH MY GOD MARI YOURE AN ANGEL SENT FROM ABOVE 😭😭😭

DROOLING SCREAMING CRYING 🫣🫣🫣

THATS MY HUSBAND 🤭😳🤠

[cherubispunk]

Damn, what a year right? As I’m sitting here stuffing my face with Christmas chocolate, I’m thinking about some of the bad stuff, but also all the good things. I joined the fandom at the the beginning of this year and in the middle of that I lost my account and hand to repost everything 😱😭

I know. SHITTY. But!!!! I’m taking some time to thank you all for making this one of the best fandom experiences I’ve had. Thank you for your interactions with cherub. Your love, support, re blogs, comments, all of it. It means the utter world to me and I cannot stress that enough. You are all such wonderful people.

There are loads of you out there who I want to thank but I’m going to stick to a few that have been my rock through the shitstorm of 2023.

First, @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin. Ange. You are one of the kindest most genuine people I know. Being your mutual is an honour. You’re so generous and always there for me to rant and rave or obsess with. For that I cannot be more grateful to you. Your fics are beautiful and so is your mind. The love you show me and cherub is more than I could ever ask for. So thank you. Xx

@chaotic-mystery and @tightjeansjavi I know we don’t talk as much as we used to when I first joined the fandom. But just know I think of you two often. I love love love!!! your work and if I’m having a bad day I always pop back to it to make myself smile. I hope you two are doing better and that the new year shines in your favour.

@planet-marz1 mari!! Where do I even start? Your mari mail makes me giggle every time I see hbo Joel and pixel daddy Joel in a tutu or a tiara, or even as a snail. I’d love them as a worm, and I’d love you as a worm. I’m so excited to see what more you have in store for us with your writing because from what I’ve seen so far you are insanely talented!

@joelslegalwhre Em, you’re so sweet. You really are! And I’m so happy that we’re mutuals. I can’t wait to obsess over more Joel with you and get to know you more too. I love seeing you pop up in my inbox every now and then.

@jenna-ortega OH MY GOD I don’t THINK YOU UNDERSTAND THE VERTIGO BRAINROT I STILL HAVE!!!!! I often re-read it as a bedtime story because the premise of that fic is just chef’s kiss! Can’t wait to read more in the new year of you choose to continue bby

@chloeangelic thank you so much for your kind words on cherub part one and two. It really means the work that you loved it so much. Your reblog made my Christmas. I was giggling and kicking my feet the whole time and read it over and over trying to let it sink in that such a great writer ENJOYED MY WORK!! So thank you again l, sending much love your way, chloe. Mwah!

A few more honourable mentions go out to @swiftispunk @netherfeildren @janaispunk @saradika @morning-star-joy @psychedelic-ink @persephone-girl @walkintotheriveranddisappear @worhols @pedrit0-pascalit0 @morallyinept @cupofjoel @cavillscurls @joelsgreys @joelsflannel @joelscruff @joelsversion @wannab-urs @notjustjavierpena @millerscoffee @beskarandblasters @dilfspitdrinker @bbyanarchist @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @reddedmiller @toxicanonymity @thetriumphantpanda @cool-iguana and so many more for their work and the interactions we’ve shared over the year.

I hope with all my fanfic writer heart that the new year inspires you and shows you love, warmth and happiness. Keep smiling cherubs! Xxxxxx

[spadesjadesfiction]

Ok, I am not a gamer. I came to TLOU through the series. I have since watched hours upon hours of gameplay on both part 1 and part 2, listened to all the podcasts for both game and show, and even did the director's commentary for the new remastered part 2. And not once have I heard anyone say what I'm about to say, so if someone has, please let me know so I can agree with them.

Joel would NOT have wanted Ellie to go after Abby for revenge. He would have told her it was worth it, what he did and it's consequences, he had a lot of sins to pay for, that he wanted her to live a happy life.

I am NOT saying Joel deserves what he got because I love that old man, our pixel daddy, Peepaw, I mourn him even though he's new to me. I'm a bit more critical of Pedro's Joel now but that's not anything against his performance. But those who live by violence die by violence. Things come around. I wish they hadn't, that Joel had been given more time to atone and heal and amend his life. But here we are.

Joel wanted Ellie to live and be happy. If he could see how badly her PTSD harmed her, it would have destroyed him, but he would know that destroying herself to get to Abby wasn't the way to find peace. Sure, he himself would have gotten revenge on anyone who harmed those he loved, but he would never have wanted it done on his behalf. Not Ellie, and not Tommy either. He wanted peace for his loved ones and was willing to die for that peace.

[chaotic-mystery]

here's an unhinged one

calling pixel joel "daddy" or calling show joel "sir"

Girl what the fuck. I go to bed and you choose VIOLENCE.

why can’t I have BOTH😭

No you’re actually evil im not choosing.

[lincolndjarin]

love from me -> you 💞

pixel daddy joel has fully invaded my brain, so enjoy 💜

saw this edit this morning and thought of you LMAO

hope you’re having a good day mari!!

[tlouconfidential]

Some of y’all take this shit TOOOO fucking seriously. Telling people to kill themselves just because they don’t like Abby or Ellie is to far THEY ARE PIXELS. It’s a video game they. Are. Not. Real. I loveee Abby and I’m not losing my mind when people say they don’t like her because she’s not real. People always call out toxic Ellie Stan’s but I see it on both sides, it’s not that serious it’s a video game. I saw someone say that Joel would be uncomfortable with people calling him daddy and in the game he probably would due to ptsd but that’s why this is fiction it’s a fake story hes not a real person. I would say that in general it’s weird to be calling anyone that isn’t your actual dad daddy but that’s just me. And I also saw someone say you don’t get a reward for defending the characters you can have discussions and talk about the complexity of the characters without getting hostile and taking it too far anyways that’s all. Read your smut, masturbate & stay happy🫱🏻‍🫲🏾

.

[chloeangelic]

Who’s dom daddy Chloe’s dom daddy?????

…Pixel Joel

I know you want to taste it

Fuck I've been outed DONT TELL ANYONE !!!!

yes i do wtf

[green--tea-owo]

[thetriumphantpanda]

love from me to -> you 🩷

& in case no one's told you lately, just know that you are enough, and I'm proud of you, just for being you💜

hehe yes there is a shirtless pixel daddy joel on this one

I don't think I'm actually going to recover from shirtless pixel daddy. EVER. Thanks Mari, all your fault!

But seriously, thank you, as always, for taking the time to always spread the love in this community. It's so welcome 🧡

[planet-marz1]

reblog if you are in love with a pixelated man

[sebsxphia]

just needed to share that my feed was flooded with gifs of game Joel and my kitty is purring! I haven’t touched a man’s chest hair in ages and pixel daddy is testing me!!! he’s so slutty with his chest and arms and shoulders why draw him like that 😵‍💫

NO FREAL BECAUSE WHY DRAW HIM LIKE THAT?? WE SENDING BOUQUETS OF FLOWERS TO NAUGHTY DOG RN 💐💘🫶🏻

honestly, me too though 😭 i played seven hours yesterday and i’ve gone through thoughts of both, emotional damage and disgustingly filthy! 💌

[chaotic-iguana]

love from me -> you 💞

pixel daddy joel has fully invaded my brain, so enjoy 💜

LOVE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH THANK U