Joel Sat On Me 2024 - Blog Posts

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