#🖇️.thelastofus

[astronomyandfrogs]

𝐀 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄.

unpopular opinion: joel miller might not be a people pleaser, but can for sure please his own woman.

tw: smut, sloppy fucking, 🐱 eating, fingering, porn with a bit of plot. the reader is called with a nickname (peach). [1.6k]

the room is pitch dark. your mind is still half asleep, while your body is wide awake. laying on your back, you feel his stubble pinching your neck and his breath tickle your cheek.

there were no clocks in the room and the only present watch stopped working years ago. you didn’t know what time it is, but you knew that you still had at least two hours — perhaps even longer — till sunrise. the air is still and the only sound is the high pitched vibration of the fridge in the corner.

before the outbreak, you used to live in a huge and loud city. at night you always heard people walk around or chat under your window or public transports stop at the station around the corner and teenagers cheer for the properly executed mission with the fake id. now, with this suffocating quietness, you feels like you are trapped in the limbo.

you move closer to joel, pressing your hand on his back to pull his weight on you, to feel something. you squeeze him, but it doesn’t bother the peaceful sleep of the man lying on you.

your eyes are starting to get used to the lack of light and you can now see the shape of his face. almost instinctively, you move your hand to trace his jawline with your fingertips. the five-days-freshly-cut beard is starting to regain its usual length.

you continue to trace his face line, moving to his ears and then to his hair. you sense your body relax and your mind being at ease once again. ironically, your eyes close at the exact moment that his eyes open.

he know that you’re awake, but you don’t know that he is awake.

your thumb brushes his moustache, which, to the touch, is much rougher than the other spots of the beard. and then there are his lips. oh, those lips.

from far away, to someone who never touched them, they seem dry. but once you get closer to them, once you get to bite and lick them, the plumpness and softness are obvious. and from that moment on that knowledge taunts you, it becomes an obsession.

then his weight is lifted from your body, and you feel a sudden loss, an absence.

his eyes — big puddles of obsidian in the night, bright rays of amber in the light — are peering on you. you smile as joel’s brushes his lips on yours.

one of the first intimate act you shared. at the time, it was just a silent confession, a simple act of intimacy that reviled the roots of something deeper. but now it’s a reminder of where you came from and of the things you achieved.

“still awake, peach?” he asks. joel’s voice is low and husky — your shifting had clearly woken him up. his free hand (the one that wasn’t keeping him still on his side) is on your waist, firm and anchored.

“didn’t mean to wake you up” you say. he doesn't say anything, he doesn't bother to reply, but the look in his eyes means something close to if i wanted to go back to sleep i would’ve. knowing his sleeping habits, he probably wasn’t even sleeping.

“i hate this fucking place at night,” you confess “the way everything is silent and still, like out of time, stick in a loop in which there is no possible way out”.

you take a deep breath and continue “sometimes my mind makes up sound for this emptiness and i wake up hearing them around us, and even when i am conscious and awake, i still can hear them”.

he doesn't need to ask who 'them' are, he knows, he dreamed the clickers himself dozens of times.

he wraps his arms around you and buries your head in his neck. you smile tenderly, grateful to be understood. you shift and move closer to him, but your knee accidentally brushes against his crouch.

“really?” you comment “is my existential crisis turning you on?”.

“you are the one half naked in my bed” he argues “and you also don’t look too bad right now”.

“i look pretty in the dark,” she giggles “how romantic”.

he rolls his eyes, jokingly. his hands slides all over your body, brushing your neck, your side and your waist, leaving shivers and goosebumps on the sensitive skin.

you wraps your legs around his hips, a clear invitation which he immediately takes without hesitation. for a brief moment his deep dark eyes are looking straight in yours — displayed beneath him you look vulnerable and magnificent, your cheeks are coloured with a pinch of red and your breathing is already irregular.

when he kisses you, just as each and every time, your heart detonates like a bomb, but the explosion isn't generated by violence and hatred. it's born from lust and, perhaps, love.

his skin is hot under your hands and you can feel his firm muscles as you grip on them. still fully clothed, you grind on him. you can't help it, in some kind of need of release.

“so fucking greedy” he murmurs as one of his hands cups your butt to steady the rhythm.

when he moves and the friction fades, you wine. but he lowers himself, till his body is right between your legs.

your thighs are spread wide, have to be with how broad he is beneath you, and you can already foresee the difficulties you’ll later have with walking.

you raise your hips, and with one quick (and experienced) motion, he removes your bottoms and panties.

his tongue was quick to reach his destination and you moan at the new sensation, as euphoria floods your body.

he's sucking, biting and fucking his tongue into you. his hands on your legs, keeping them in place. your legs begun to twitch, coming closer and closer to the orgasm.

“you always taste so good, peach” he praises.

he eats you out like a starved man, like it’s his last day on earth and you are his last meal. he licks every inch of your cunt like it depends on his life.

you shove your head in the pillow as you came, your hand on your mouth to cover your moans.

he continued the deed unbothered. his hands rooted on your legs, keeping them open for him. a few hours later, tiny bruises will emerge on the skin of your legs, right in the places were he is holding you still.

“i want your fingers, joel” you beg.

“one more time on my tongue, baby, can you do that for me?” he demands.

yes, you think, yes, i can. with your hand, you shove his head closer to you skin, if that even is possible, while continuing to rock his mouth — up and down, up and down. your heart slams on your sternum.

joel eats you out like a tormented man downed in his sins, who's only possible chance of atonement is being buried between your legs. and god, he might as well be a saint.

he loves the smell and the taste. he loves the wetness and the warmth. he loves your moans and your whispers.

you arch your back towards him and you came again, this time harder and louder.

“good girl” he whispers. he doesn’t let you replay, since, as promised, he slips his fingers inside of you and finally clench around him, who's fill every inch of you and reach every inch of you.

his fingers curve on your g-spot and you might have just woken up half the qz, but, at this point, they probably got used to it.

“fuck, joel” you cry “it's too much”.

“do you want me to stop?” he asks. as you look down at him, you shake your head furiously. he grins and presses his lips on your clit to leave a chaste kiss on it, as he keeps pumping his fingers inside of you, restlessly.

“i can't wait to be inside you” joel confesses.

“no one is stopping you, handsome” you can feel his quite giggle on your clit, which produces a wave of ecstasy in your veins.

with your eyes closed, all you can hear is the sound of his fingers going in and out of you, soaking even more. your muscles contract once more and you came again, with his name on your lips.

he is again on top of you, his fingers — the ones that were in your cunt just a few second ago — are covered with your wetness.

“open up” he orders. you follow his instructions and he presses his fingers on your tongue. your own taste is sweet, a lot sweeter then what joel's testes like. it is pleasing.

no wonder he's pussy drunk all the time, you think.

as you kiss each other, you know that his lips are glossy from your cum — they have the same taste of his fingers — and, as you pictured his lips covered with your wetness, a shock of pleasure floods you. as you bit on his lips, he growls and you mewl.

he slips in you without warning. his mouth on yours quietens the moan. he pulling out almost all the way and then pushing back with one hard move. and again, and again, and each move knocks the air out of your lungs.

“you are so fucking warm, peach”.

you know he was talking to you — praising you — but at this point you were beyond understanding.

fill me up, joel.

you doesn't know if you only thought it or if you said it out loud. either way, he comes in you with one hard trust as he bites down on your neck.

you stay in this position for a while, joel on top and still inside of you, crushing your body. but it doesn't bother you nor him. you love his body on yours, and he is very well aware.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #the last of us #🖇️.writing #🖇️.joelmiller #🖇️.thelastofus