#Shoot'em Up | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

toxicanonymity · 10 months

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2.7k, raider!Joel x f!reader | raider master, joel

mood board by @milla-frenchy , stitches edit by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

“You’re okay, baby” he whispers, more to himself than to you. Both arms are around you and one hand cradles your head. “You’re safe,” he says as he brings you up and down his length. His grip around you tightens and his movements become more aggressive. The hand that cradles your head begins to fist your hair.

SUMMARY: Two men come to the trailer before Joel gets home, and for a second, Joel thinks you're shot. He fucks you hard from the adrenaline. You give Joel stitches and tell him how you feel. Then you do it missionary (for the first time?)

WARNINGS: I8+; unsafe P in V (x2); light manhandling; canon-typical violence; angst; dark fluff; reader can sit on joel and her hair can be pulled; pet names and praise; no use of y/n.

One morning, Joel is making coffee and you're sitting in the nook by the window, behind the little kitchen table. He brings his coffee to the table and tells you he's going on a dangerous trip. It's all hands on deck, so he's gonna have to leave you by yourself. He hands you a gun. The same one you used on the girl.

He takes you outside. "Remember how to fire it?" He taught you how within days of when he first plucked you out of your life and set you in his. You stand up and show him how you aim it. He gets behind you and helps adjust your form, but it doesn’t need much adjusting.

After you lower the gun, he rests a hand on your head and says, "If somebody threatens you, tries to take you, tries to touch you, you shoot'em." You nod.

"Good girl."

You're scared about his plans. If Joel considers it dangerous, you can't even imagine. He's never said anything like this before, like something might happen to him, despite all the stuff you know he gets up to. He can tell you’re worried and asks what's wrong.

"What if you don't come back?"

"I'm gonna come back."

He doesn't come back that day, even well after you hear the vans return. You’re worried and don’t know what you’d do without him. If he’s hurt or in trouble, you want to help him. You want to find him even if it means you get hurt. You have this terrible thought, and you know it's irrational, but you can't push it away - you’d rather be with him and hurt than away from him unharmed.

You know it's risky to go down to the house with all the men there. You’re waiting for the vans to leave and thinking of walking down the hill alone when you hear unfamiliar footsteps outside the trailer. You get the gun ready and make sure the safety is off. When the footsteps are at the back of the trailer you peer out the front window and, thank God, in the flickering flood light, you see Joel crest the hill with a bloody face.

He sees you in the window and raises his rifle. His eyes sweep the area. You signal with your hands that there are guys around back. He holds out his hand as a stop sign then puts his finger over his lips. He raises his rifle and crouches down as he goes around the side of the trailer out of view.

You hear a gunshot and splatter, then a scuffle. Joel and another man are grunting. Joel interrogates him about whether there are any more of them around, landing a blow after each time he asks him. Then finally, another gunshot, but Joel doesn't come inside. You hear the sound of a body being dragged. It drowns out any footsteps. Your heart tells you Joel is alive, he's the one dragging the body, but you won't feel okay until you see him.

After at least ten minutes of silence, you can’t stand it anymore. He should’ve at least come to the window so you’d know he was okay. You creep out of the trailer, gun in hand, closing the door softly behind you. You go around to the side where you heard the struggle. There's still a body on the ground. You start looking for a trail - drag marks in the dirt, flattened grass. Something you could follow to get to Joel.

Then you hear a gasp and a groan behind you. You jump and shriek at the top of your lungs. You turn around and the "body" isn't dead, it's on its knees behind you, lunging for you. "JOEL!!!" you scream. Then you walk backwards, aim the gun, and fire a shot between the man's eyes. You run back to the trailer and crouch down hiding, suddenly afraid you might have attracted someone else's attention. The front of the trailer doesn’t provide any cover with that light on, so you hesitate to go in the front door just yet.

—-----

“SWEET PEA!” When Joel comes into view, he's running, holding his rifle, ready to shoot. There's a look on his face you've never seen on him before – fear. He looks panicked. "Oh, god," he says to himself before he sees you, then booms, "WHERE ARE YOU BABY?"

"Here," you croak and only then realize you're crying and shaking.

He rushes over to you and crouches down at your level. "You're okay, you're okay." You can see his pulse pounding in his neck. He puts his rifle behind his back and hugs you so tight it hurts, then grabs you, forcing you to your feet roughly. He drags you inside.

—---------

He sits you down on a chair at the kitchen table.

"What happened," he asks urgently as he takes off his gun. He pries the pistol from your hands.

"He wasn't dead." You take in the extent of Joel's facial injury, and he's bleeding badly from the forehead. You reach out to touch it and he dodges you.

"Why'd you go out there," he demands gruffly.

"Are you mad," you sob.

He takes in your face, then his expression softens and he shakes his head. " No," he says, still catching his breath. "Fuck, it don't matter sweet pea." He holds you by the back of the head and puts his forehead against yours for a few seconds. Your tears are dropping onto the hem of your dress, diluting a spot of bloodsplatter.

Joel pulls back, chest still heaving, and palms himself over his jeans. "C'mere," he says and urgently grabs you off your chair and pulls you into straddling him. He quickly wipes his own blood off your forehead with his thumb. You wrap your arms around his neck and he unbuttons and unzips his jeans. He takes his hard cock out, gathers saliva in his mouth, then looks down to his lap and spits on it. Then he wraps an arm around you, holding you into his chest, and lifts you up to get clearance. He pulls your panties to the side and you gasp as he impales you.

“You’re okay, baby” he whispers, more to himself than to you. He holds you with both arms around you with one hand cradling your head. “You’re safe,” he says as he brings you up and down his length, stretched by his cock. His grip around you tightens and his movements become more aggressive. The hand that cradles your head begins to fist your hair. He breathes vocally, then he groans as he forces you all the way down. He keeps you down, with all of him inside you, filling you all the way up. His hips rock up into you and he comes in record time, pulsing enormously against your walls, so many times you lose count. It's like he just needed to plant himself in you, feel that you're real, you’re truly still there, and claim you all over again.

He puts his head against yours as he catches his breath. Then he brushes your forehead with his thumb again and looks back and forth between your eyes. You don't let yourself try to kiss him. He clears his throat and says, "Go clean yourself up. I've gotta dump that guy. Won't take me too long."

"Ok."

"Lock the door." He helps you off his lap and when his cock slides out, a mess of cum comes with it.

—----

There’s blood and grime on your face from contact with Joel’s. You take a shower and lay down on the bed in your nightie. Joel staggers in wordlessly, locks the door, puts his gun down on the table, and goes straight to the bathroom. “Shit,” he mutters to the mirror. The sink turns on. While he's in the bathroom, you go to the kitchen table where he left the light on and you wait for him.

He emerges with a washcloth, bottle of liquor, sewing needles and thread, scissors and tape. The scissors are bloodstained. He haphazardly sets it all on the table, then sits down in a chair next to you. Now that the dirt is gone you can see he has quite a gash across his eyebrow and it's still bleeding. He's sweatier than you've ever smelt him.

"Can ya sew me up or got a weak stomach?" He pours some of the liquor onto the cloth and dabs his eyebrow. Then he takes a swig of it.

You don't want to sound too eager but you want nothing more than to help him. “I'll do my best.” You sterilize and thread the needle and he dabs the wound again, then lays his head on the table for you. He barely flinches as you stitch him up.

“You’ve done this before,” he says.

“Yeah.” You cut the string then dab the stitched wound with alcohol. “We shouldn’t tape it yet.”

He sits up and looks at you. “Do I look scary now?” he smiles.

You shake your head. It actually looks sexy.

"I was afraid you weren't gonna come home," you say. "I'm glad you did."

He scans your face and his eyes seem to glisten. “Me too, baby. C’mere.” He lets you into his lap facing him and he gives you a tight squeeze.

"I was scared," you whimper.

He strokes your back and says, "Shhhhh.”

You keep thinking, what if he didn't come home. You know he won’t say it back, but you still need him to hear it. You can't resist whispering, “I love you."

His body tenses. He pulls back and studies your eyes for a few seconds. He takes a deep breath. His voice is more gentle than his words. “Damnit, sweet pea.”

He gently nudges you out of his lap and you sit back down in the chair next to him. He takes your hand in his and looks down at it as he brushes his thumb lightly across your knuckles. When he looks at you again, he’s squinting. His mouth is moving like he's fighting with his tongue. He opens his lips, but doesn’t speak. You wait patiently for his rejection. His face hardens, then he looks you over.

His eyes and voice are soft, but his tone is cautionary and his words are careful. "You belong to me, baby. It’s not how you think."

That wasn't too bad. Somehow it wasn’t as bad as the time you kissed him. You could leave it at that, maybe offer a "yes sir" to show you understand the power dynamic, and move on with no harm done, but that's not what you do. You can’t resist protesting, "can't I belong to you and also love you?"

He's silent for a few more seconds as he reads your face then swallows. "Ain't gonna tell' ya what to feel," he grumbles and looks away again.

Against your better judgment, you continue, "but you don't love me, right? I get it."

He breathes in deeply through his nose and you worry for a second that you’ve pushed him too far again until his gaze meets your sad eyes. He's silent, but his eyes are reaching out for you. You can feel it: his heart won't let him say he doesn't love you.

He breaks the silence. "I think you're confused, baby. That's all." He brings your hand to his mouth, kisses it, tells you to go to bed.

By the time Joel finishes showering and getting ready for bed, you're half asleep. He doesn't put any clothes on before he comes to bed.

He throws the covers off, uncurls you from your fetal position, and puts you face-up on your back. You observe the silhouette of his naked body looming over you like you’ve never seen him before. He pulls your nightie off like he's undressing a doll. He’s hungry in a different way now. You can feel it in the way he’s moving. He gets between your legs and buries his face in your chest, nosing at your nipples then sucking them hungrily. His beard scratches you painfully, and it feels good, like anything from him.

He spits on his hand and reaches down between you to add it to your growing wetness and guide his tip inside you. He shudders as he shoves himself into you and bottoms out in one go, enrobed in what remains of his own cum and the tight hug of your walls. He retreats and your legs wrap around him. He plunges even deeper and grunts. He looks down at your face, but after a moment of eye contact he abruptly yanks his eyes up to the wall behind the bed. He braces a hand on the wall and curls his other hand over your shoulder, holding you down toward him to stop you from riding up the mattress and hitting your head with his powerful thrusts.

You gasp and moan and watch the outline of his naked body flexing each time he moves his hips forward. He’s spent from the day and night, you can tell. But he’s still releasing some kind of tension. and meanwhile, you feel it gradually building deep in your belly. After a few minutes of railing you, he pauses to rotate so you’re diagonal across the bed. He brings his forearms down on the mattress and fucks you missionary with his naked body on yours.

With his pelvis grinding into yours, the rub on your clit is nearly too much. He begins to bury his length in you slowly, except for the moment he bottoms out each time with an animalistic punch from his hip flexors.

“Joel,” you gasp. “I–Joel,” you whimper and your hips lift into him, seeking even more contact. The tension releases all at once. As your body writhes under his, you whimper his name again.

His face is hovering over yours as he continues to slowly fuck you through your orgasm. You restrain yourself from trying to kiss him. He gets up on his hands, triceps bulging. He hangs his head and watches your body take him, your breasts jiggling with each punch of his cock. Then he lowers himself again. He bites and sucks your neck, marking you up as his length fills you to the brim.

He whispers, “god damn, you feel good like this” then slides his hands palm-up under your upper back to hold onto your shoulders from underneath, resting his weight on his forearms. “Fuck,” he breathes and slams into you hard a few more times. Then he groans as he plunges to the hilt and begins to pulse. He lowers his bare chest against yours and slowly thrusts twice more as his balls empty. He rests some weight on you for a second and all your skin against all of his feels like something really special before he pulls out and rolls over onto his back.

He lies there apart from you for a minute, then whispers, “c’mere,” and slides his hand under your neck. You move closer and he pulls you right up against him. You’re facing away and your back is flush with his side. Your neck rests on his bicep and your head on his pillow. He falls asleep quickly.

You wake up in the middle of the night and he's holding you tighter than ever. "Joel, I can't – I can't breathe." You cough and pry his arm loose. He relaxes and you take in a deep breath as he presses a kiss into the back of your neck. A kiss he'll forget while the feeling lingers on your skin for days. You wish you could understand why, but you’ll take the kiss. You're still savoring it when he kisses your neck again. Then he gently cups your breast and sighs, "sweet pea," in his sleep.

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thank you so much for reading and engaging! your reblogs and comments and discussion mean a lot, ESPECIALLY SINCE IT GOT A LABEL RIGHT AWAY lol <3

#9 is planned / has a scene written.

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