Joel Miller x Reader- After The End Of The World

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, Female reader

Episode 2 spoilers ahead!

The supplies would run out soon, and you were no closer to Wyoming than you’d all been the hours before.

You’d spent most of the afternoon driving in loops looking for ways out- the roads had been blocked through with cars, and keeping away from cities was only wise. Finally, late in the evening, Joel had called it a night- no sense driving around in the dark. You’d set up camp in an abandoned building, and Ellie had fallen asleep instantly, leaving you and Joel to sort out whatever remained of your belongings.

Joel sighed, and rubbed his forehead like he always did when he was faced with a problem he couldn’t tell anyone else about. He’d done it before too, it was his tell, something you’d begun to pick up on.

Are you trying to rub the wrinkles away? you’d joked, and he’d frowned and turned away. Not before you caught the hint of a smile; but he would never admit it.

It wasn’t that he hated who who he was with. He’d come to a begrudging place of affection as far as Ellie was concerned, his wayward cargo with her potty-mouth and her knife and her endless prattle. He’d told her to zip it twice the night before, to no avail. She’d gone on and on about what she’d heard about places to eat before the world had ended, and what a McDonalds was, and was it true there were secret sauces that nobody could ever reveal the recipe to on pain of death?

He’d laughed then, and looked over at you; you, Ellie’s guardian, the only person she trusted, sent by Marlene to keep an eye on her because she had too little faith in Joel and Tess let her go her unaccompanied. Your only job was to keep Ellie alive, Marlene had told Joel, even if you lost your own life in the process. Joel had hated you when you’d first set out with them; cursed you out under his breath, gave you looks that could turn water to ice. Slowly, after Tess’s death, the two of you had found an understanding, based on one simple fact— both of you were here only to keep Ellie safe, no matter what.

And lately, you realized, it had begun to feel like a friendship; you two would raise your eyebrows companionably when Ellie went on one of her spiels about what she knew about life-before, joke as you cooked meals, argue about the music in the car— you’d only been seven when the outbreak begun, but you’d had your favorite songs at that age already, songs your parents had played in the car as they drove you to school, singing along.

Not to mention, the tiny fact that you’d been falling for Joel.

It hadn’t happened all at once, of course. You’d seen him around long before he was tasked with transporting Ellie— a tall man with flinty eyes, his mouth never too far from a frown. He’d been trading with Marlene for years, always staying just as long as necessary, never making eye contact with anyone except her. You’d thought him handsome; certainly handsomer than any of the Fireflies, but it was over the course of your journey that you’d begun to really see him—the softness of his mouth as he hummed along to the old cassette tapes Ellie fished out from between the seats. The big, callused hands on his gun. The way he’d dived to cover you, putting himself in the line of direct gunfire, when you’d been grazed by a stray bullet two days ago.

“Are we headed north again tomorrow?” you asked to make conversation. You kept your voice low, to avoid waking Ellie up. “I think there’s a route that loops around one of the smaller towns. There might be raiders, but the roads will likely be clear—”

Joel didn’t look up from stacking what was left of the canned food.

“Or we could spend tomorrow looking around the houses nearby,” you offered. “I don’t think there’s anybody around for miles, and if we try I think we might find something we can use—”

“And risk getting bitten, which’ll be really fuckin’ likely?” Joel snapped without turning around. “Abandoned homes are nearly always—Jesus. Did the Fireflies teach you nothing?”

You went quiet then, hurt. Joel sighed, and put down the can to look at you.

“Look, Y/N, I’m sorry.” He came over to sit beside you, leaning his head against the wall. “I didn’t mean for it to come out— come out like that.”

You didn’t reply, and shrugged.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

He looked over at you, his brown eyes suddenly clouded with regret.

“I know. And I’m sorry, I really am. It’s just…” He rubbed his forehead again. “I’ve been on edge about getting to fuckin’ Wyoming for so long, and with you getting shot—”

“Grazed.”

“Shot.” He gestured to your thigh. “How is it now?”

“Not too bad. I would show you, but—” your face suddenly went red and you realized what you’d been about to say. But I’d have to take off what I’m wearing.

Not that Joel hadn’t seen it all before. He’d been with Tess, and no doubt, many women before that— and you couldn’t deny you hadn’t thought about it yourself. What it would feel like to have his hands cup your breasts, his lips taste your neck. You’d always looked away guiltily— what would he do, if he knew you were thinking these things?

But Joel had seen you too— he’d bandaged up your thigh when it had happened, his fingers making quick work of it. It had been a flesh wound, nothing worse, but his skin had been warm against yours, and his grip had been firm.

“You should clean it.” He fiddled with the zipper of his jacket. “You can do it yourself, if you know how. Or I can…” he swallowed, and suddenly, you sensed an undercurrent of something that he wasn’t saying. “Or I can do it.”

You shrugged, trying your hardest to stay nonchalant.

“Those supplies are in the next room,” you said. You’d left them there, like an idiot, when you’d gone to explore.

Joel said nothing, and helped you up wordlessly. With his support, you limped over to the adjoining room— a room which contained, you realized in embarrassment, a bed.

“Okay,” you said, and winced as you leaned against what was left of the mattress. “I’ll just—”

“Here.” Joel leaned over. His fingers touched the waistband of your torn cargo pants. “It’ll go easier if I do it.”

You nodded in affirmation, and Joel hooked his fingers under the waistband, careful not to touch too much, and pushed your pants down your legs. He stopped when they went past your thighs, and you shook your head.

“Take them off. The snaps hurt my skin.”

He continued— was his breathing suddenly heavier, or were you imagining it?— and let your pants pool on the floor. The bandage had soaked through; Joel was right. It needed to be cleaned, and badly.

Slowly, he began pulling off the bandage to clean the surface beneath. You watched him as he worked, aware of the pain, but even more aware how warm his fingers were on your thigh, how close they were to your core, and how all you wore now was a thin pair of cotton underwear that would soon be soaked with your juices. It embarrassed you and excited you at the same time, knowing he’d see how much you wanted him. It went on forever, and you could swear he smelled the scent of your longing when—

“Done,” he said at last, his voice low, gruff. He pulled away, barely an inch. “I’ll-” his voice broke off. “I’ll take a look at it again tomorrow.” He turned away— but you caught a telltale bulge at his front, hard against the fabric of his pants.

He wanted you too.

“Joel.” He looked up, brown eyes meeting yours. You sat up, slowly, and without breaking eye contact, began to pull off your tattered old tshirt. “I want you to look at me.” He breathed in sharply when he saw your chest, breasts barely contained in an old black bra. His eyes dipped to meet them hungrily as you undid the clasp and let your breasts free, nipples peaked at the thought of him, his eyes, his mouth.

“Y/N, I-” he began, but you shook your head. Slowly, you took his hand, and guided it to the center of his panties, showing him your wetness, showing him just how much you needed him.

And that was all Joel needed to let himself free. With a lurch he let his mouth meet yours, and your tongues collided in a fiery kiss. His lips were rough against yours, his beard scratching your cheek. His fingers made quick work of the panties, pulling them down and discarding them to the ground.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He breathed as he saw all of you for the first time, swollen and ready for him. “Fuck.”

His mouth found your nipple, wrapping around it as his fingers worked at your core. In the moment, he left an enormous red mark on your neck— a mark you knew you’d have to hide under layers of clothes the next day.

He bent down to push his face between your legs, but you shook your head.

“Later.” You panted. “Now, I need you.”

He sat up, complying. Slowly, he guided his impressive length into you, filling you up completely, his heat against yours. He was huge, bigger than any of the men you’d had back in Boston. And on the first motion of his hips, you knew he was better too; rougher, more experienced. He took what he wanted.

“You’re so tight.” He groaned. “You’re gonna have me in a bad way, Y/N.”

He moved inside you, every stroke sending waves of pleasure though you. And when you went over the edge, he came with you, biting your shoulder as he let his seed trickle over your stomach.

He rolled off you with a groan, and you covered his mouth with a kiss.

“I want you to do this again tomorrow.” You gave him a wink. “Inspect my.. wounds.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Tomorrow?” He gave you a devilish grin as he moved down to push his face between your legs. “I’m a man who likes to get things done as soon as he can.” He licked the inside of your thigh, his tongue sending a shiver through you. “And those wounds need inspecting right about now.”

Slayyyyyyyyyyyy

Joel Miller x Reader- After The End Of The World

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, Female reader

Episode 2 spoilers ahead!

The supplies would run out soon, and you were no closer to Wyoming than you’d all been the hours before.

You’d spent most of the afternoon driving in loops looking for ways out- the roads had been blocked through with cars, and keeping away from cities was only wise. Finally, late in the evening, Joel had called it a night- no sense driving around in the dark. You’d set up camp in an abandoned building, and Ellie had fallen asleep instantly, leaving you and Joel to sort out whatever remained of your belongings.

Joel sighed, and rubbed his forehead like he always did when he was faced with a problem he couldn’t tell anyone else about. He’d done it before too, it was his tell, something you’d begun to pick up on.

Are you trying to rub the wrinkles away? you’d joked, and he’d frowned and turned away. Not before you caught the hint of a smile; but he would never admit it.

It wasn’t that he hated who who he was with. He’d come to a begrudging place of affection as far as Ellie was concerned, his wayward cargo with her potty-mouth and her knife and her endless prattle. He’d told her to zip it twice the night before, to no avail. She’d gone on and on about what she’d heard about places to eat before the world had ended, and what a McDonalds was, and was it true there were secret sauces that nobody could ever reveal the recipe to on pain of death?

He’d laughed then, and looked over at you; you, Ellie’s guardian, the only person she trusted, sent by Marlene to keep an eye on her because she had too little faith in Joel and Tess let her go her unaccompanied. Your only job was to keep Ellie alive, Marlene had told Joel, even if you lost your own life in the process. Joel had hated you when you’d first set out with them; cursed you out under his breath, gave you looks that could turn water to ice. Slowly, after Tess’s death, the two of you had found an understanding, based on one simple fact— both of you were here only to keep Ellie safe, no matter what.

And lately, you realized, it had begun to feel like a friendship; you two would raise your eyebrows companionably when Ellie went on one of her spiels about what she knew about life-before, joke as you cooked meals, argue about the music in the car— you’d only been seven when the outbreak begun, but you’d had your favorite songs at that age already, songs your parents had played in the car as they drove you to school, singing along.

Not to mention, the tiny fact that you’d been falling for Joel.

It hadn’t happened all at once, of course. You’d seen him around long before he was tasked with transporting Ellie— a tall man with flinty eyes, his mouth never too far from a frown. He’d been trading with Marlene for years, always staying just as long as necessary, never making eye contact with anyone except her. You’d thought him handsome; certainly handsomer than any of the Fireflies, but it was over the course of your journey that you’d begun to really see him—the softness of his mouth as he hummed along to the old cassette tapes Ellie fished out from between the seats. The big, callused hands on his gun. The way he’d dived to cover you, putting himself in the line of direct gunfire, when you’d been grazed by a stray bullet two days ago.

“Are we headed north again tomorrow?” you asked to make conversation. You kept your voice low, to avoid waking Ellie up. “I think there’s a route that loops around one of the smaller towns. There might be raiders, but the roads will likely be clear—”

Joel didn’t look up from stacking what was left of the canned food.

“Or we could spend tomorrow looking around the houses nearby,” you offered. “I don’t think there’s anybody around for miles, and if we try I think we might find something we can use—”

“And risk getting bitten, which’ll be really fuckin’ likely?” Joel snapped without turning around. “Abandoned homes are nearly always—Jesus. Did the Fireflies teach you nothing?”

You went quiet then, hurt. Joel sighed, and put down the can to look at you.

“Look, Y/N, I’m sorry.” He came over to sit beside you, leaning his head against the wall. “I didn’t mean for it to come out— come out like that.”

You didn’t reply, and shrugged.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

He looked over at you, his brown eyes suddenly clouded with regret.

“I know. And I’m sorry, I really am. It’s just…” He rubbed his forehead again. “I’ve been on edge about getting to fuckin’ Wyoming for so long, and with you getting shot—”

“Grazed.”

“Shot.” He gestured to your thigh. “How is it now?”

“Not too bad. I would show you, but—” your face suddenly went red and you realized what you’d been about to say. But I’d have to take off what I’m wearing.

Not that Joel hadn’t seen it all before. He’d been with Tess, and no doubt, many women before that— and you couldn’t deny you hadn’t thought about it yourself. What it would feel like to have his hands cup your breasts, his lips taste your neck. You’d always looked away guiltily— what would he do, if he knew you were thinking these things?

But Joel had seen you too— he’d bandaged up your thigh when it had happened, his fingers making quick work of it. It had been a flesh wound, nothing worse, but his skin had been warm against yours, and his grip had been firm.

“You should clean it.” He fiddled with the zipper of his jacket. “You can do it yourself, if you know how. Or I can…” he swallowed, and suddenly, you sensed an undercurrent of something that he wasn’t saying. “Or I can do it.”

You shrugged, trying your hardest to stay nonchalant.

“Those supplies are in the next room,” you said. You’d left them there, like an idiot, when you’d gone to explore.

Joel said nothing, and helped you up wordlessly. With his support, you limped over to the adjoining room— a room which contained, you realized in embarrassment, a bed.

“Okay,” you said, and winced as you leaned against what was left of the mattress. “I’ll just—”

“Here.” Joel leaned over. His fingers touched the waistband of your torn cargo pants. “It’ll go easier if I do it.”

You nodded in affirmation, and Joel hooked his fingers under the waistband, careful not to touch too much, and pushed your pants down your legs. He stopped when they went past your thighs, and you shook your head.

“Take them off. The snaps hurt my skin.”

He continued— was his breathing suddenly heavier, or were you imagining it?— and let your pants pool on the floor. The bandage had soaked through; Joel was right. It needed to be cleaned, and badly.

Slowly, he began pulling off the bandage to clean the surface beneath. You watched him as he worked, aware of the pain, but even more aware how warm his fingers were on your thigh, how close they were to your core, and how all you wore now was a thin pair of cotton underwear that would soon be soaked with your juices. It embarrassed you and excited you at the same time, knowing he’d see how much you wanted him. It went on forever, and you could swear he smelled the scent of your longing when—

“Done,” he said at last, his voice low, gruff. He pulled away, barely an inch. “I’ll-” his voice broke off. “I’ll take a look at it again tomorrow.” He turned away— but you caught a telltale bulge at his front, hard against the fabric of his pants.

He wanted you too.

“Joel.” He looked up, brown eyes meeting yours. You sat up, slowly, and without breaking eye contact, began to pull off your tattered old tshirt. “I want you to look at me.” He breathed in sharply when he saw your chest, breasts barely contained in an old black bra. His eyes dipped to meet them hungrily as you undid the clasp and let your breasts free, nipples peaked at the thought of him, his eyes, his mouth.

“Y/N, I-” he began, but you shook your head. Slowly, you took his hand, and guided it to the center of his panties, showing him your wetness, showing him just how much you needed him.

And that was all Joel needed to let himself free. With a lurch he let his mouth meet yours, and your tongues collided in a fiery kiss. His lips were rough against yours, his beard scratching your cheek. His fingers made quick work of the panties, pulling them down and discarding them to the ground.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He breathed as he saw all of you for the first time, swollen and ready for him. “Fuck.”

His mouth found your nipple, wrapping around it as his fingers worked at your core. In the moment, he left an enormous red mark on your neck— a mark you knew you’d have to hide under layers of clothes the next day.

He bent down to push his face between your legs, but you shook your head.

“Later.” You panted. “Now, I need you.”

He sat up, complying. Slowly, he guided his impressive length into you, filling you up completely, his heat against yours. He was huge, bigger than any of the men you’d had back in Boston. And on the first motion of his hips, you knew he was better too; rougher, more experienced. He took what he wanted.

“You’re so tight.” He groaned. “You’re gonna have me in a bad way, Y/N.”

He moved inside you, every stroke sending waves of pleasure though you. And when you went over the edge, he came with you, biting your shoulder as he let his seed trickle over your stomach.

He rolled off you with a groan, and you covered his mouth with a kiss.

“I want you to do this again tomorrow.” You gave him a wink. “Inspect my.. wounds.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Tomorrow?” He gave you a devilish grin as he moved down to push his face between your legs. “I’m a man who likes to get things done as soon as he can.” He licked the inside of your thigh, his tongue sending a shiver through you. “And those wounds need inspecting right about now.”

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