Joel Miller X F!reader - Blog Posts

*Y/n is cleaning the house and they find an empty bottle of orange juice* Y/n: Clear orange juice? Y/n: Oh, it's empty. Joel, who has been watching the entire time: I live with an idiot. I live with an idiot. I live with an idiot.

not gonna lie, i LOVE this<333

i recommend reading it SO damn much???

also that photo of joel made me think of this-

feelings are a lot of work

Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: Joel knows a way to help a girl through her heartbreak warnings: unconcensual groping; dirty talk; an age gap as thick as Joel's cock (20+ years decide for yourself); fingering; implied PinV and creampie wc: 800 a/n: my own submission for the 24 hour moodboard writing challenge! hope you enjoy, please leave a comment and reblog if you do

He smelled of beer when he invaded your personal space, planting a meaty paw on your skirt covered ass and boldly grabbing a handful. "Damn, sugar, you should wear something more modest in a place like this. Some drunk dipshit might think you’re offering more than you can handle."

By a 'place like this' he meant a bar on the outskirts of Texas in the middle of a heatwave. Looking around, you saw that your skirt and a white cotton t-shirt with a budweiser logo was amongst the most conservative outfits that women who were present wore.

"Some drunk dipshit already did," you gritted through your teeth, sinking your nails into his hand and trying to pry it off. You didn’t even need to turn your head to know exactly who it was. A tall, broad-as-the-horizon man who had been watching you all evening. His mostly gray beard and the deep lines etched into his face by time suggested he had already celebrated his fiftieth birthday, maybe even a while ago. That made him more than twice your age. That also made him hot by your standards.

When you had walked into the bar a couple of hours earlier, you barely noticed the quiet observer. But as your fight with your now ex-boyfriend escalated, your gaze had shifted from Malcolm’s infuriated face to the corner of the tiny establishment, where the older man sat, cluttering his table with a growing collection of Coors cans. He lingered after Malcolm stormed out, watching you drown your heartbreak in obligatory tequila. And when he decided you’d had enough, he abandoned his post in favor of approaching you.

You had been on the brink of punching the smug smile off his face when you turned around, refusing to let him squeeze the plush curve of your ass any longer. "Name’s Joel," he said, his voice deep and unapologetic. "And whoever that fucker was that left you? I promise he’s worth less than a donkey’s ass."You didn’t know if it was the alcohol, his words, or Joel’s staggering confidence that you wouldn’t scream for help or kick him in the balls, but when you met his whiskey-brown eyes up close, a shiver ran down your spine, stopping right where your cunt pulsed along with your rising heartbeat. His gaze dropped to where your thin white shirt betrayed you, letting him see your hardened nipples that begged for his attention. Taking it as an invitation, Joel caged you against the bar, his arms bracketing your body and making you feel small. The salty tang of his sweat mixed with pine-scented deodorant invaded your lungs as unceremoniously as the rest of him.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" you demanded, narrowing your eyes, trying and failing to stay unbothered by the sharp cut of his jaw and the curve of his lips.Joel leaned in slowly. His teal polo strained over a big stomach that pressed into you, trapping you in place. Then you felt it—a significant bulge poking insistently against your lower belly. His stubbled cheek scratched yours as he murmured in your ear. "I’m someone who’ll help you forget why you’ve been salting your tequila with tears for the last hour. I can’t promise you feelings—that’s too much work for an old guy like me—but I can promise you a hell of a good time. At least for as long as my cock’s buried in your belly."

The words were outrageous, filthy, and the most forward thing anyone had ever said to you. They were also the words that had you whining in his arms, pathetically begging for release.

He didn’t even take you home. The second you climbed into his battered red pickup that looked older than its owner, his rough hands were on you again. And Joel didn’t lie. When his fingers pushed your panties to the side and slid into your drooling entrance, any thoughts you had of Malcolm, heartbreak, or anything beyond the dizzying burn of Joel’s touch vanished. Unbothered by the people outside, you moaned like a well-paid slut, writing on his thick digits that were scissoring your cunt. Watching two of his fingers slide inside you with ease, he hummed in approval and added a third.

"Have you ever even had a cock up this tight little cunt, darlin’?" He muttered, his wet tongue gathering the sweat off your neck before he sank his teeth into the tender skin. "Snatch so tight, I’m startin’ to think I’m about to deflower ya."

You moaned in response, and Joel chuckled darkly. "Thought I’d fuck the heartbreak outta you, not your whole damn vocabulary."

His fingers curled inside you, petting your sensitive walls relentlessly and coaxing a pathetic whimper from your lips as he pressed his palm into your swollen clit. Every movement of his hand gave you the stimulation that merged pain with pleasure, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. You threw your head back, hitting the seat with a dull thud as you came. Wetness gushed over his hand, he didn’t stop until you were crying from overstimulation, your trembling hands pushing weakly at his wrist.

"Now," he drawled, low and hypnotic, settling back in the driver’s seat and unbuckling his leather belt, "climb over here, darlin’. I’m far from being done with you."

By the time Joel finished fucking his third load into your used pussy, you couldn’t remember the reason you were heartbroken in the first place. Later, curled against his chest in your bed, you decided to save a few tears for the morning—just so he’d have another reason to make you forget.

“Accidents”

synopsis: after going on a run with joel and ellie despite joel’s request for you not to, you get hurt in the process, and joel helps you recover. word count: 1,4k warnings: smut, female receiving, use of curse words

joel has always had pretty eyes, guess seeing him this close and in the light you truly noticed how pretty and tired they are. the wrinkles in his face that haven’t yet been mirrored in yours—god, that thirty-year age difference was sometimes worrisome. you desperately want him to see you with crinkled eyes and wrinkles; brushing his hands through your grey hair like you did his when he goes—

“darlin, are you even listening to me?” he groans out on his knees, massaging your injured ankle. “this is why i tell your dumbass to stay and not go out on runs with me. i already have to keep myself safe and ellie safe, but you just…” he trails on about safety.

he wraps his thick hand, covering the entirety of your ankle. you can feel his calluses rub against your skin. it makes you wet just thinking of those same hands wrapped around your neck not even a day ago.

“you guys needed help and i didn’t want you to get hurt,” you manage to make a noise, putting your dirty thoughts away. “i’m young, meaning i’m strong… isn’t that a quote?”

on the run, joel, ellie, and you were spotted by clickers. trying to protect him, you jumped in front of him before a clicker got him, but as you killed the clicker, you twisted your ankle.

your handsome man lets out a groan and a laugh. “you’re lucky i put up with you.” he finishes the massage, wrapping it with medical tape. “you’re not going to be able to go to the movie night.”

“man, that blows,” you say, leaning on the pillow he brought out of the bedroom. “i wanted to see forrest gump. i’ve never seen it.”

he smiles, not reaching his eyes. “you and i are going to stay here until i patrol, and ellie will switch. you can see forrest gump another time.”

he grabs a blanket, covering your legs. you hadn’t noticed that it got cold, even though you were only in your panties and his flannel. you mumble a thank you, grabbing a book from the bookshelf next to you.

he picks you up, placing you on his lap, blanket still on you; rocking you back and forth, kissing your neck and biting your earlobe. aw man, what did you do… he always did that when he wanted to either have sex or he was upset but didn’t know how to express it.

“what’s wrong, baby?” you say, putting your book to the side and leaning closer to his touch.

“i just… i was scared… god, you just don’t listen sometimes,” he groans out, still sucking the skin around your ear. “i can’t always protect you, sweetheart.”

you nod against his lips as they travel down your neck. “next time i tell you we’re going to be okay… trust me… me and ellie came here after so much, so we can handle it.” he pulls your legs open, careful with your left ankle.

“i know—i know i’m just a little protective over ellie… i don’t want anything to happen to her.” you moan lowly as his hand finds the inside of your thighs. “i, uh—mhm—uh, i was worried about you too.”

joel's breath is hot on your skin as his mouth trails down your neck. his beard scratches against your pulse point, a coarse drag that makes your thighs twitch. his fingers press into the flesh just above your knee, working higher, the calloused pads teasing the soft skin of your inner thigh. 

you’re still wearing only his flannel, swallowing you whole, sleeves rolled up to your elbows, the top few buttons undone from when you tugged on the collar earlier, needing to breathe.

his hand brushes just beside the wet patch forming on your panties. he doesn’t move fast. joel never moves fast unless he’s angry or desperate, and right now he’s just worried and horny; trying to express it the only way he knows: by touching you.

“you’re real mouthy for someone laid up with a busted ankle,” he mutters, lips curled just slightly as he looks up at you from where he’s pressing soft kisses into your collarbone. “goin’ out there like you’re fuckin’ invincible.”

“i just wanted to help,” you breathe, trying not to writhe against his lap like a bitch in heat. his hand is under the blanket now, pushing it aside, fingers ghosting along your hip, then back down between your thighs again. your panties are soaked, practically clinging to your lips.

“help?” joel chuckles darkly, teeth scraping against the shell of your ear. “you’re damn near helpless now, sweetheart. can’t walk, can’t run. you’re stuck right here.” his fingers hook under the waistband of your underwear, dragging them down your thighs, slowly. the air is cold against your slick folds, but his fingers are warm—he's warm—thick digits sliding through your slit.

“you listening to me now?” he says gruffly, pushing two fingers into your cunt, slow and firm, the stretch making your breath hitch.

“mhm,” you murmur, thighs trembling. “i’m listening.”

“good,” he whispers, pumping those thick fingers in and out of you, the rhythm steady, relentless. “ ’cause i need you to listen when i tell you that if somethin’ ever happened to you, i’d lose my fuckin’ mind.”

your pussy clenches hard around his fingers, the rough rasp of his voice sending sparks down your spine. he curls his fingers just right, pressing against that spot that makes your vision blur. his other hand cups the back of your head, fingers tangled in your hair, holding you steady as he tongues the crook of your neck and bites down hard enough to bruise.

“joel—fuck,” you whimper, grinding helplessly against his hand, your fingers gripping his flannel, knuckles white.

he groans low in his throat, a gravelly, needy sound as his palm presses harder against your clit. “that’s it, baby. let me take care of you, yeah? you need this. after scarin’ the shit outta me.”

“i’m—i didn’t mean to—”

“shhh,” he cuts you off, sucking a mark into your throat that you’ll probaly feel for days. “you can say you’re sorry with your cunt.”

now that makes you moan. the sound rips from your throat as your hips start rocking against his hand without shame, soaking his fingers. he adds a third finger, making your whole body jolt.

“you hear that?” he growls against your ear, lips slick with spit. “listen to how wet you are, baby. drippin’ all over my fuckin’ hand.”

slap, slap, slap—the obscene noise of his fingers plunging in and out of your pussy echoes in the small room. you grip his shoulder, nails digging into the soft flannel, trying to anchor yourself as your orgasm coils tighter.

“i was fuckin’ scared,” joel whispers again, almost broken now, voice cracking as he sucks your earlobe into his mouth. “thought i was gonna lose you. and the worst part? i wouldn’t even know how to go on. not after everythin’.”

“i’m here,” you manage to gasp, barely able to speak as the pleasure crescendos. “i’m here, joel.”

“show me,” he growls.

your whole body jerks when he flicks your clit with just the right pressure, and the dam breaks. you cry out, grabbing at him as your orgasm crashes over you, pussy clenching hard around his fingers, body trembling in his lap. he doesn't let up, fucking you through it until you’re twitching.

joel pulls his fingers out slowly, smearing your slick all over your inner thigh, then dragging them up to his mouth. he sucks each one clean, eyes locked on yours, expression unreadable.

“you’re stayin’ here next time,” he says, voice firm, leaving no room for argument. “don’t care how young or strong you are. if you want to be useful, you stay alive.”

you nod, still panting, chest heaving.

he kisses your temple, soft and slow. “next time, you tell me what’s goin’ on in that stubborn head before you throw yourself into danger.”

you grin, still hazy. “next time, you just fuck me before patrol and i’ll be too sore to even leave the house.”

that gets a real laugh out of him; his hands settle under your ass, shifting you closer on his lap. his cock is hard under you, pressing insistently through his jeans, but he doesn’t move to unzip. but for now, he just holds you, body warm, rocking you gently till you fall asleep.

notes: my first joel writing ahhhhh

special tags: @inbred-eater , @wintfleur , @555aturn

Pedro's Holiday Feast Family Dinner

Hey folks! Welcome to our first Family Dinner! We're just starting easy with an appetizer, an entree and a yummy dessert. But don't forget to keep tagging @pedges-world and #pedrosholidayfeast for all of your yummy treats!

Appetizer

Our guy is a snack. Enough said.

*thanks Paula and Buzzfeed for this yummy treat!

Entree

You've made a delightful meal for your man, but the changing of the seasons has made you wonder if you've overstayed your welcome.

"Moody Joel" @pedges-world

Dessert

This is a part of a lovely series I invite you to check out! Dinner wouldn't be complete without a little dessert...

"As Easy As Pie" @inept-the-magnificent

*thanks @strangergraphics for the cool dividers!

Joel Sits On You Peach + Apple Pie

I gotta say @yopossum's "Snug" already nailed this writing prompt from our beloved @beefrobeefcal BUT it did get the creative juices flowing, as I've started to write for the Pedro Boys, and Joel is one of my favorites. Check out my previous attempts with Moody Joel and I hope you enjoy this Fall treat with a little slice of pie...

Triggers: post-apocalypse, discussions of "married life", M fo F reader, expanding waistlines, mentions of food, playful sitting/wrestling in committed relationship, lite smut at end...

An enigmatic autumn wind whipped around your cozy, creaking cabin. A fire crackled in the hearth and your legs were tucked underneath you as you ventured further into your well worn, re-discovered copy of Frankenstein. It was a miracle you had found it, during the raids and plundering—little luxuries like books, furniture and a home cooked meal had, at times, appeared almost imaginary. Trying to exist outside of survival had been a Herculean task, but with each passing day, your time at the commune and your relationships had started to spark that inner familiarity of comfort and peace. But with it, came the awareness that at any moment, those same luxuries could be whisked away like the bracing autumnal wind you were harbored against.

One aspect of your survival that seemed to anchor you to the realities of that new, peaceful life was Joel. Getting to know one another under the desperate, iron clad vice of hardened survival had been tempered by years of camaraderie, companionship…and eventually love. In one sense, marriage no longer existed, but had evolved into a state of committed partnership that transcended more than a contractual piece of paper. It was an unspoken agreement that was brought to life in passion, in practice and in repetition. In all the ways that humans were crafted for one another, you found yourself fitting into a life and another person who was helping you knit yourself back together. 

Except for today. Joel was running late. As usual. The foreboding skies were darkening as you anxiously awaited his return, hopeful that the day’s patrol hadn’t exhausted him beyond recognition. “Marriage” had been good to Joel. His mental health and stability had improved, and he seemed, over-all, a happier person. The only drawback seemed to be the “effect it had on his waistline”. You smirked, pausing in your reading, as you reflected on HIS choice of words. Joel wasn’t a vain man, by any definition, but his survival acumen was unmatched. Even in this happier state, it was difficult for Joel to relax into any kind of comfort whatsoever. It was only by your daily proddings, smushy kisses and love of baking that you were infinitesimally dragging Joel down the path of blissful, partnered life. If he’d ever get home.

You heard the tell-tale signs of your Frankensteinian bedmate lumbering up the wooden porch and flinging the door open as cascades of leaves and hay blew in after him. Slamming the door shut behind him, he grunted in recognition as you yelled from the couch, “DO NOT TRACK THAT MUD INTO MY HOUSE BIG MAN! TAKE THOSE BOOTS OFF IMMEDIATELY AND GO TO THE KITCHEN”. You pursed your lower lip with slight chagrin, aware that you were running a little hot. Joel’s heart might be significantly armored, but you bit your tongue with embarrassment. Annoyed at your own need, you hoped that Joel knew you well enough to discern your restless state. Joel always had a way of handling you that kept you grounded and present, but perhaps there were some moods that even Joel couldn’t tame. He huffed with exasperation, dropping his coat on the ground unceremoniously and heading into the kitchen.

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO THE GARDEN OVER THE LAST FEW DAYS, BUT YOU NEED TO GET OUT THERE AND WRANGLE THOSE CARROTS INTO SUBMISSION!” you shouted from the living room, as Joel clanged around the kitchen like a bull in a china shop. “MARIA CAME BY TO ASK FOR AN EXTRA SHIFT NEXT WEEK IN CASE RAIDERS WERE COMING UP THE SOUTH PASSAGE!” you bellowed, annoyed that you had to sacrifice another evening with Joel at home. “THE LEG ON THAT DINING ROOM CHAIR IS MORE WOBBLY THAN EVER, AND YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO EAT THAT APPLE PIE UNTIL YOU HAVE SOME…soup first…!” you trailed off, lost again in your literary masterpiece as the kitchen chaos lulled to a dull roar.

You began mouthing the words of one of your favorite passages, “I endeavored to crush these fears and to fortify myself for the trial which in a few months I resolved to undergo; and sometimes I allowed my thoughts, unchecked by reason, to ramble in the fields of Paradise.” You temporarily paused in your reading, suspicious at the sudden silence in the house.

“DON’T YOU DARE ATTEND THAT COUNCIL MEETING THIS EVENING AFTER A FULL DAY OF PATROLS, WITH NO FOOD IN YOUR STOMACH AND AN ACHING BACK! AND IF YOU EVEN GIVE ME ONE IOTA OF SASS ABOUT TAKING A BATH THIS EVENING I WILL ABSOLUTELY SMOTHER YOU WITH KISSES UNTIL YOU’RE BEGGING FOR REPRIEVE!” you let your voice echo in the cabin, pleased with your relative confidence and bravado. Joel might inspire fear in the hearts of the commune residents, but you had seen this man in a bubble bath. It was obvious to you who wore the pants in this family.  

You continued reading, “I feel my heart glow with an enthusiasm which elevates me to heaven, for nothing contributes so much to tranquilize the mind as a steady purpose—a point on which the soul may fix its intellectual eye…”. You nodded your head in approval. It was so ridiculous that Mary Shelley hadn’t been recognized in her day as the foremost writer of science fiction. Eyeing the page skeptically, you were just about to shout something to that effect when Joel’s peach of a jean clad ass loomed large in your vision before he promptly sat on top of you.

“Jo-OOOOOOH-el!” you huffed as the warmth of his body covered you like a man-blanket, easing himself atop you delicately, at first, awkwardly smashing the book into your chest with solidity. The pine scented cologne of his plaid shirt muffled your laughter as he wriggled his hips atop you, sinking back to full effect.

“Needs Cheddar” he grumbled, mouth full of sugared sweetness, chomping away at the apple pie you had expressly forbade him to eat.

“I didn’t have tii—-ime” you hyperventilated “to cultivate and curdle bacteria between patrols you big…OOOF!” Joel pushed back gently as the couch creaked under both of your bodies, humming in delight at the baked goodness melting in his mouth.

“Look little missy” he drawled sarcastically “It was a long day, my back is hurtin’ and if you don’t shut that pretty mouth of yours I’m gonna give you a Texas spankin’!”. You stilled with anticipation, excited at the turn of events that had transpired with your moody attitude. Maybe you would have to start complaining more often.

“Just you t-t-try Big Man!” you tried to retort as a blush crept up your neck and cheeks, attempting to squeeze some sense into your hulk of man. Unable to grasp him fully around the waist, you shifted your hands to the meat of his thighs, gripping just under the knees. Joel lurched forward slightly in ticklish surprise, doubling down on his tactic he sighed contentedly, relaxing into your lap.

Shaking your head in comic disbelief, you decided to opt for a new tactic, and with honeyed dramatics you coo’d, “OOOH…I’m seeing stars! I can—t…can—t breathe!” you giggled, flailing your arms like a small child. “My life…it’s fl-fl-flashing before my eyes! This is it! I’m s-s-o weak….” you trailed off, releasing all the energy from your body and collapsing in mock catatonia. You heard Joel sigh heavily, easing off your body and creaking to the floor gently. The corners of your mouth turned upward as you hazarded a squint out the corner of your eye to find Joel on his knees in front of you with slight annoyance and concern. 

“That’s better darlin’” he swallowed, a glint in his eyes flashing for the smallest millisecond. He reached over for his plated slice of apple pie, grabbing a small piece with his bare hand and dangling it inches from your mouth.

“Now that I got that pretty mouth to shut up, go ahead and open wide darlin’” he teased, licking his lips with more than hunger.

Your mouth parted lustfully as he delicately placed the gooey desert on your tongue, as you sucked the crumbs off of his fingers. Hissing with arousal his lips formed a small “oh” as you licked the tart sweetness off of his thumb which he dragged across your lower lip.

“Now that’s settled, Baby Girl, it seems to me…somebody said something about a bubble bath…”...

*thanks @animatedglittergraphics-n-more for the cool dividers