#dark! Joel miller

[pedrospatch]

run

Raider! Joel Miller x Female Reader

*moodboard is for aesthetic purposes only. no mention of reader’s race or skin tone.

summary: When you’re given the chance to run from your captor, you don’t take it.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. RAIDER ERA. DARK!JOEL. DUBCON. MENTIONS PREVIOUS NONCON. UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 50). reader is described washing her hair (the exact length is not specified) and she wears a dress. she is also shorter than Joel. violence, kidnapping, reader has major stockholm syndrome, Joel is fairly soft for her but HE IS STILL NOT A GOOD MAN, brief mention of Tess and Joel being involved with each other, Tess seems like the villain but she might actually be the only one of these three who is not totally fucked up in the head. SMUT. daddy kink. size difference (no description of reader’s body type, Joel is just a big guy with a big dick, enjoy it). oral sex (female receiving), super risky unprotected p in v sex (mention of reader ovulating, Joel pulls out, don’t be be like these two, practice safe sex), creampie (yeah he doesn’t give a fuck the second time around). many, many pet names (baby, baby girl, honey, angel, sweetheart, little girl). um i think that’s it. oh, and they fuck in the dirt.

PLEASE HEED ALL WARNINGS.

word count: 8.6k

a/n: one thing about me is i WILL soften up EVERY version of Joel Miller to my little heart’s content. HUGE HUGE thank you to @endlessthxxghts and @joelsdagger for lending me their eyes and beta-ing this fic for me last night. <33 i love and appreciate you guys SO MUCH. i loved seeing you both in the doc at the same exact time lmao. this can be read as a standalone, but it is considered part of the captive universe.

Everyone in the group has a job. Except for you.

Or at least, that’s what you hear them say.

That bitch doesn’t do shit.

She never has to lift a fucking finger.

She should work for her meal—just like the rest of us.

Bitterness laces their tones when they talk about you.

Insults grow a little bolder when he’s not around.

Useless.

Freeloader.

Leech.

You might not be out there with a rifle in hand hunting game or invading camps and spilling blood for supplies—but you do in fact have a job, and that job is to make Joel Miller happy. It is your responsibility, your duty, to please him, and to keep him satisfied. Because keeping him satisfied keeps him in a good mood, and one thing you’ve come to learn about your captor is, where there is a good mood, often there is mercy.

Hell, you’re doing them a favor by keeping their violent, fearsome leader in a good mood. Because you’ve seen what he does to them when he’s not. He can be just as brutal towards his own people as he is to strangers.

It doesn’t make a difference, though. They still see you as nothing more than his coddled little whore.

“Fuck, that’s it.”

He groans, his thick, callused fingers digging harshly into the softness of your flesh as he holds you firmly in place underneath him. “Oh fuck, baby girl,” Joel curses through gritted teeth, his hands gripping your hips as he uses his own weight against you, pressing you down into the old mattress until you feel every uncomfortable lump, each creaking spring.

While he isn’t fucking you as roughly as he has on other occasions, he’s hardly being gentle. It’s hard, fast.

Loud.

Joel couldn’t care less about the rest of the group, the men and women on the other side of the wall, forced to listen to the sounds coming from the single bedroom of the cabin he decided they would hunker down in for the remainder of the summer season. Strings of curses and brutish grunts that came rumbling from deep within his chest, pleading gasps and whimpers that fell from your swollen, bitten lips. If anything, knowing they were listening only spurred him on—it didn’t hurt to remind them, especially the men with wandering eyes, that you were his special girl.

His good girl.

You certainly did your job, and you did it so, so well.

“Christ, sweetheart. M’so fuckin’ close—” Joel picks up speed, his hips snapping even harder, faster, the front of his thighs slapping against the backs of yours. Each thrust causes the bed’s rusted, iron headboard to slam violently against the wood panel wall.

You clutch fistfuls of the single, stale, yellowing sheet beneath you, each stroke he delivers knocking the wind out of your lungs, making it harder to breathe. He is so heavy on top of you, this big, broad, bulk of a man who makes you feel swallowed, smothered, and small. Joel takes up so much room inside of you, and it’s a wonder how you could possibly have any space left to spare.

It’s a fullness you can’t seem to get enough of.

It’s a craving, a need.

Worst of all, it’s slowly becoming a want.

“Daddy,” you choke out, fisting the sheet tighter, your skin stretching taut over your knuckles. Can the others also hear the squelch of your drenched cunt around his cock as it begs him for more?

“Fuck. You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me, baby,” Joel croons his praise. His hands abandon your hips and he hunches over you, his thrusts momentarily ceasing. He crushes his chest against your sweaty, quivering back and leans forward even further, bracing his large hands on either side of you. Then, his lips move to the shell of your ear and he speaks, his breath blazing hot on your skin. “Y’take me so well, honey. Y’take Daddy’s cock so fuckin’ well. This pretty little pussy was fuckin’ made for me. She was made jus’ for me—ain’t that right, angel?”

He’s right.

Oh, how you fucking hated that he was right.

It was made for him. Your cunt. Your body. You.

Every part of you was made for him, and only for him.

All you can do is nod dumbly in agreement.

“Say it,” Joel whispers his firm command. “Wanna hear you say it. Be a good girl and use your words. Say it, say this pussy is made for me.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you moan obediently, prompting him to grin against your ear. “My pussy is made for you, just—just for you. No one—no one else. Only you.” Could this really be the same voice that would break, grow hoarse from screaming for him to stop? The same voice that would beg and plead for him to set you free?

Jutting his hips forward, Joel buries himself to the hilt, eliciting a noise from you, something caught between a pained whimper and a contented sigh. His balls, heavy and full for you, rest on your clit, which is still sensitive to the touch after he’d spent a majority of the morning with his head buried in between your legs. Desiring yet another release, you try wriggling around beneath him in a silent plea for more. More, more, more.

Please, Daddy. More.

Joel’s grin widens. He places one of his hands on your soft lower belly, fingers dragging down the slope of it until he finds the slick swell of your seam between your legs where his girth splits you open. “Ready, baby?”

Nodding, you open your mouth to answer him, but the sound of your own groan cuts you off when his fingers firmly circle around your throbbing, swollen bud. “Oh,” you breathe, instantly sinking right into his touch. Your eyes screw shut tightly in pleasure, and you throw your head back onto his shoulder. The scruff of his beard is rough on your cheek, and it burns, the same way it had burned the tender flesh of your inner thighs.

His hips find their rhythm as you rub against his hand—you’re almost there. He knows this, you can tell by the chuckle that thunders in his chest and against your back. But you’re too busy chasing your pleasure to be embarrassed.

He’s made you a needy, greedy girl.

“Daddy,” you mewl, trying your hardest to move under him, to work your cunt up and down on his cock. “I’m gonna come—” You gasp, back arching as Joel strokes in and out, his fingers rubbing your clit with urgency.

Joel plants a sloppy, wet kiss on your cheek. “Give it to me, baby,” he grunts. “C’mon. Lemme feel her squeeze me.”

Feeling how close he is too, you try to hold on for just a little bit longer, at least long enough to finish with him, but Joel’s relentless, and you’re forced off of the ledge you’re both standing on first.

Crying out, your walls spasm around him, asking to be filled until he’s made a complete mess out of you, until white leaks, and it slowly dribbles down the insides of your trembling thighs.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel rasps. He lifts himself off you and he pulls out, taking his throbbing cock in his hand. His chest heaves as he fists himself, the wet sound of your slick in his palm filling the room. “Down,” he grits, and you obey him, lowering down yourself on the mattress until you’re lying almost completely flat before him. He gives himself one final stroke just as you look over your shoulder at him, the gentle flutter of your eyelashes the last push he needs. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck—” Joel spills his load, shooting thick ropes of warm cum along the soft curve of your spine.

You rest your cheek on your folded arms, biting back a small sigh.

He’s left behind an ache—you feel painfully empty.

But it was Tess, who had been given the task of helping you track your menstrual cycle, that had given him the warning earlier that morning. “She’s ovulating. Don’t be a fucking idiot, Joel. Last thing we need is for her to—”

“Relax,” he’d gruffed in response. “I fuckin’ know.”

Spent, Joel hunches over you once more and he lightly kisses the top of your head before burying his nose into your hair. “Good girl,” he murmurs. Affection that once was unwelcome and unwanted, that once made you feel sick to your fucking stomach, now makes you feel something else entirely. You’re not quite sure what it is, only that it’s warm. Comforting. “Y’did so well for me, sweetheart. Always do.”

Your lips curl into a faint, tired smile he doesn’t see.

A while later, you find yourself perched on the bed with the sheet wrapped around you, quietly watching as he gets dressed. “Daddy?” you say tentatively as he drops into a nearby chair to pull on his boots.

“What is it, baby girl?”

“Do you—do you think we can go to the creek today?”

Joel finishes lacing his boots and looks up at you.

“I’d really like to wash up,” you admit, softly. That, and you would like to see the light of day. He’d boarded up the windows with slabs of wood—sometimes, if you’re lucky, you get some decent light seeping through the teeny gaps.

“Not today, honey. I’ve got some things to take care of. Supplies are low, we gotta do a run. Don’t have the time to take you.” He stands and picks up his rifle, slinging the strap of it over his shoulder. Noticing the crestfallen expression on your face, Joel’s eyes soften. He walks over and gingerly cups the side of your face in his palm. His thumb strokes your cheek. “Promise I’ll take you to the creek tomorrow, sweetheart. First thing. Alright?”

Nodding, your eyes fall to your hands in your lap.

“Okay.”

Joel kisses your forehead, then leaves the room.

He makes sure to lock the door from the outside, and you can’t help but wonder if he knows locking you in is no longer necessary.

“I can take her.”

Joel’s dark eyes remain focused on the state map laid out on the table in front of him. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about, Tess?” He sees her in his periphery, but is too busy figuring out the group’s best route to look her way.

“I heard her asking you to take her to the creek so she can bathe,” she tells him. “I can take her.”

Finally, his head snaps up and he turns to her. “What?”

Tess leans her hip against the table, crossing her arms over her chest. “You and Tommy can take the group, go and take care of what you have to take care of. I’ll stay behind and take her down to the creek,” she suggests casually, as if she’s not asking him to trust her with his most prized possession—the only damn thing on what was left of this fucking earth Joel Miller actually gives a shit about. “Once she’s washed up, I’ll bring her back to the cabin and put her back into the room. Easy.”

Joel stares at her, bewildered. “What makes you think I’d fuckin’ allow somethin’ like that?”

“Oh, come on.” She huffs and rolls her eyes. “Anytime I bitch about having to do something for that girl, you’re on my fucking case about it, and now that I’m offering to do something for her, you don’t wanna let me?”

He shakes his head and lowers his voice. “You’re talkin’ about takin’ her outside, Tess. Without me.”

“The creek’s just a mile away,” Tess reminds him. “I’m pretty sure I can handle getting her there and back with no trouble, Joel.” When he says nothing, she cocks her head to the side and scoffs. “What? You don’t trust me enough to take her under my wing for a couple hours?”

Joel’s lips pull into a tight line. 

Of course he does. Tess was his right hand woman, his second in command.

He trusted her more than his own fucking brother. She had never given him any reason not to, had never given him a reason to doubt her loyalty to him. No, his lack of trust has nothing to do with Tess—but everything to do with you. He doesn’t trust you. He will never trust you.

“What if she tries to—?” He can’t even say it.

“Tries to what?” She pauses. “Run?”

His throat goes dry and he gives her a subtle nod.

Joel Miller was a bad man who did bad things, but you were his good. You’ve brought back some meaning into this wretched life of his, gave him something that felt a lot like a sense of purpose. You were something for him to take care of, to keep safe and protect.

Tess raises an eyebrow at him. “You think I’d even give her the chance? Besides, the girl’s not that stupid, Joel. She knows better than to try anything. She knows she wouldn’t get very fucking far.”

“Tess—”

“I’m just trying to do something nice for her. Besides, I think it might do her some good to be in the company of someone else for once—the company of a woman.”

Joel peers at her, taking a minute to think it over in his mind before asking, “You’ll have her back in the room before I get back to the cabin?”

“Long before then,” she swears. “All in one piece.”

He hesitates. He’s still not sure.

It’s then that he remembers that disappointed look on your sweet, pretty little face. “Alright,” he relents with a deep sigh. “I trust you, Tess.”

It always feels a bit strange to be outside.

But being outside without Joel?

It feels even stranger.

When he’d walked back into the room and told you Tess was willing to take you to the creek, the news had taken you by complete surprise. When he said he was willing to let her take you, that you almost couldn’t believe. It hadn’t even sunk in until the three of you stood outside the cabin and he was kissing your forehead sweetly in a temporary goodbye before turning to Tess.

“Never take your eyes off her,” he’d instructed her.

“She’ll behave.” She had smiled at you as she pulled her pistol from the waistband of her jeans, the gleam of the silver barrel catching your eye. “Isn’t that right?”

Swallowing dryly, you had answered with a strained, “Of course.”

She’s the last fucking person you wanted to cross. She was almost as terrifying as Joel, if not more.

“Tess? W-Where are we going?” you ask as you trudge along behind her, hoping you don’t sound as winded as you feel. Although you had no way to keep track of the time, it felt like you’d been trekking for at least an hour. Your feet are starting to hurt in your shoes—old, worn, yellow canvas sneakers that certainly weren’t made for hiking. “I don’t remember the creek being this far from the cabin.”

Tess snorts. “Don’t tell me you’re tired already.”

“It’s just—we’ve been walking for a really long time.”

She glances over her shoulder at you. “Here I thought you would be a little fucking grateful to be out getting some fresh air,” she chuckles, shaking her head before turning her attention back to the path ahead.

“I am,” you squeak, stumbling over a fallen branch.

Silence falls over the both of you.

“We’re not going to the creek,” Tess finally speaks after a minute. “I’m taking you somewhere else. Somewhere even better. Just trust me, kid. Now hurry up.”

It takes another hour before you reach your destination, and you hear it before you can even see it, a humming sound that turns into buzzing the closer you get. Then, you feel it, a vibration in the rocks beneath your feet. “Is that a—?” Stepping around her, your mouth falls open in absolute awe at the sight before you.

The waterfall is nestled right in between the trees and surges over the rocky mountain, throwing up bubbles of spray as it plunges into the lake at the bottom, and from there, it foams into a thick, white lather at the base. On the bank, where you stand, you spot different types of vegetation you couldn’t identify even if you tried—all you know is that it’s green, and it’s beautiful.

“This is incredible,” you gasp.

“Way better than some little creek, huh?” Tess tucks her pistol into the waistband of her jeans and shrugs off her pack. She digs around in the front pocket and pulls out something wrapped in a piece of crumpled brown tissue paper. She hands it to you. “Here.”

“What’s this?”

“Well, if you’d fucking open it, you would know,” Tess rolls her eyes. “It’s my last piece of soap. It’s all yours.”

Her kind generosity comes as a surprise—usually, Tess wanted nothing to do with you. But you don’t question it, and you certainly don’t turn the rare luxury down.

“Thanks,” you say, shooting her a grateful look.

Tess nods towards the body of water. “Alright, then. Go on and get to it.”

You take the piece of soap out the tissue. The scent of lavender is faint, but still very much there. Joel will like the smell of it on your skin tonight, you think.

As you start to pull the strap of your cotton blue dress down your shoulder, you feel her gaze fixed intently on you. Heat rushes to your cheeks. “Uh, aren’t you going to turn around?”

“For fuck’s sake,” she scoffs. “I’ve got what you’ve got. Now hurry up, we don’t have all fucking day.”

Nodding, you peel off your dress and underwear, your face on fire as the older woman’s eyes slowly drag over your naked body. Carefully, you step off the bank and wade into the water. It’s so clear that you can count the pebbles underneath your feet.

Leaning against a nearby tree, Tess calls out, “You have ten minutes! And stay out of the waterfall! Last thing I need is for you to fucking drown.”

As she lights a cigarette, you can’t help but stare at her. Her features, though worn down after the hell she had been through trying to survive the post outbreak world, are beautiful. Big, dark green eyes, a perfect nose, and full, pouty lips. There’s never been a doubt in your mind that she and Joel have been involved with one another, and lately, the mere thought of anything between them made you uncomfortable.

It’s an odd sensation deep in your gut—jealousy?

But what were you jealous of? Her having had him first?

It shouldn’t matter to you, but it does. Insecurities you have never in your life felt before seep into your bones.

“Anyone ever tell you it’s fucking rude to stare?” Tess quips, raising an eyebrow at you. She shoves her lighter into the back pocket of her jeans.

Nervously, you sink lower into the water, nibbling the inside of your cheek. “Tess? Can I ask you something?”

“What could you possibly fucking want to ask me?”

You hesitate.

“How—how long have you known each other?”

“Who?” Tess plucks the cigarette from between her lips and flicks the ashes. “Me and Joel?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

She shrugs. “Don’t know. Six, seven years?”

“How did you two meet?”

“Long story that’s none of your fucking business.”

You ask your next question before you lose your nerve. “Have you two ever—?” Unsure of how to phrase it, you stop and clamp your mouth shut in instant regret.

“Have we ever what?” Tess studies your face, and she quickly realizes what you’re trying to ask her. “You’re seriously asking me if me and Joel have ever fucked?”

Biting your bottom lip, you glance down into the water at your feet. You honestly don’t expect her to answer, so when she does, you look back up at her in surprise.

“Yeah.” She takes a long drag from her cigarette, then adds, “Few times.”

Something unpleasant claws at your insides. “You two were together? Like a couple?”

“Something like that,” Tess mutters, flicking her ashes once more.

“What happened?”

She looks at you, pausing before answering, “You.”

Oh.

Before you can utter another word, Tess snaps, “Quit asking so many goddamn fucking questions and finish up washing. You’ve got eight minutes left.”

Not wanting to push your luck further than you already have, you do as she tells you in complete silence.

You lather up the soap in your hands, washing your hair first, and then your face and body, using your hands to scrub yourself as best as you can. Between the calming scent of the soap, the soothing sound of the waterfall, and the warm afternoon sun, you find yourself relaxing. You try to clear your mind, live in this peaceful moment which you very well may never get again, but your mind begins to wander.

And it wanders straight to Joel.

Closing your eyes, you can’t help but picture him here, standing behind you in the lake. You can almost feel his hands on you, long, thick fingers lathered with lavender soap, sliding down your body. His lips at your neck, he cups your breasts in his hands, rolling his thumbs over your hardened nipples until your head lulls, falling back onto his shoulder. Joel drags his hands further down, over your stomach, going lower and lower towards the place where you need them the most. “Yeah, baby?” he murmurs into your neck, dipping one of them between your legs until you are, quite literally, in the palm of his hand. “This where y’need me?”

Breathless, you respond, “It’s where I want you.”

Suddenly, your eyes snap open.

There is a wetness between your thighs, one that has nothing to do with the fact that you’re standing waist-deep in the middle of a lake. You shake those thoughts away and finish washing yourself.

“Time’s up,” Tess calls. She meets you on the bank with a dry rag. “Here.”

The rag doesn’t exactly cover much surface area, but you dry yourself off as best you can before tugging on your underwear and slipping on your dress. Just as you crouch down to slip your shoes on, she tosses her pack and it lands in front of you with a soft thud.

Confused, you glance up at her.

“There’s about a week’s worth of jerky in there. Longer, if you know how to ration,” Tess explains, calmly. “And a canteen for water. I also packed you a flashlight and a pocket knife. It’s not much, but—”

Frowning, you rise to your feet. “What are you talking about, Tess? What’s going on? Why are you giving me your pack?”

“Because I’m giving you a chance, kid.”

A feeling of dread pools in the pit of your stomach.

“A chance to what?”

“Run.”

Your heart stutters a beat. “Run?”

“He’ll come looking for you. You need to get as far away from here as possible. Run away, as far as you can, and don’t fucking look back.”

All you can do is stare at her in shocked silence.

“I can help you get a head start,” Tess offers, quietly. “I can show you which direction to go in and put you on a path leading to the closest state highway—”

“But what if I don’t want to run?”

Tess places her hands on her hips, and she exhales an incredulous laugh. “Jesus,” she breathes, shaking her head in pity. “He’s really got you fucking brainwashed, doesn’t he?”

You glare at her. “I am not brainwashed, Tess.”

“You’ve gotta be if you’re telling me you wanna go back to him.”

“Tess—”

She cuts you off. “He gave the order to raid your camp and kill your people,” she reminds you. “He fucking slit your father’s throat right in front of you, then took you as his prisoner. He made you his fucking sex slave.”

“He takes care of me! He feeds me, makes sure I have a bed to sleep in no matter where we are. He keeps me safe. He—he cares about me.” You will your voice not to tremble as you stand your ground. “No. I’m not running away, Tess. I want to go back.”

Tess sighs. “You’re really not gonna make this easy, are you?”

“Take me back,” you all but demand, your hands curled into the least menacing little fists she had ever seen in her life at your sides. “Take me back to the cabin—take me back to him, Tess. I mean it.”

Amused, she huffs through her nose. “Or else what?”

“You can’t make me run away, Tess.” As you take a step towards her, she reaches behind her and swiftly whips out her pistol from the waistband of her jeans. You halt, freezing in fear when she aims the barrel of the gun at your chest.

“Actually, I can,” she says, her finger hovering over the trigger. “So here’s how this is gonna go. I’m gonna walk away now. And if you even think about following me, or trying to find your way back to the group, you will die.” She tosses you a tiny, wry smile. “Believe it or not, I’m doing you a real big favor, kid. Problem is, he’s got you so fucked in the head that you can’t see it.”

“Tess, please,” you plead. “Don’t do this to me!”

She begins to back away. “Remember when you’d say that to him? How you’d beg him not to do those things to you every night? Beg him to let you go?”

“Please, just take me back to him!”

You start to follow her.

“You take one more fucking step and I’ll shoot you,” she threatens, her eyes darkening. “Don’t think I won’t.”

Tess keeps her pistol pointed at you until she slips into the trees and disappears, abandoning you in the middle of the forest.

He’s furious. Livid.

Joel paces back and forth on the porch.

“Where the fuck are they?”

The old, rotting wood that wraps all the way around the cabin creaks, and certain softer spots bend and buckle, threatening to give way beneath his heavy boots. Joel’s younger brother leans against the railing, which is just as fragile, an unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

“Christ, Joel. Can you fuckin’ relax?” Tommy grumbles, fishing around in his back pocket for his lighter. “You’re gonna bring the whole damn cabin down if ya don’t cut that shit out.” He sparks a flame and lights the filtered end of the cigarette. He takes a long drag, and exhales the smoke through his nose. “You’re gettin’ worked up over nothin’, brother.”

“S’almost sundown, and they’re still not fuckin’ back.” Joel shakes his head. “Fuckin’ knew I shouldn’t have let Tess take her. Somethin’ happened, Tommy. I just know it.” He lifts his shirt and reaches for his pistol, pulling it from the waistband of his jeans. “M’gonna head to the creek myself to find ‘em. Ain’t gonna sit around on my goddamn hands and wait for it to get fuckin’ dark.”

“She’s with Tess. M’sure the girl’s fine—” Tommy stops, his eyes widening slightly. “Well, hell.”

“What?”

Tommy jerks his chin over Joel’s shoulder before taking another slow, casual drag of his cigarette. He savors the last few seconds of peace before shit inevitably hits the fan and his brother unleashes his wrath on anything, or anyone, in his path.

Joel whips around and his stomach sinks, his blood ice in his veins when he sees Tess approaching the cabin. Alone.

Both his mind and body go numb. It’s a jarring shock to his nervous system, and it takes him a minute or two to fully process the fact that you’re not with her.

“Joel,” Tess says his name carefully as he descends the porch steps and walks towards her. “I need you to take a breath, alright?”

“Where—where is she?” His voice breaks, his weakness momentarily slipping through the cracks.

Not that Tess didn’t already know you were Joel Miller’s weakness, his soft white underbelly, the only vulnerable part of his hardened self that could be penetrated—you would have been his downfall. As much as she’d like to say she did what she did solely for your own good, she also did it for his, and for the sake of the group as a whole.

It needed to be done.

He stands in front of her, a ticking time bomb about to go off.

Prepared to face whatever consequences of the choice she had made, Tess tucks her gun away and sighs. “You need to take a breath—”

Joel snatches her arm, his fingers digging into the flesh above her elbow. His emotions hit him all at once.

Fear, worry, anger. It’s the third that takes precedence, and before Tess can utter another word, Joel yanks her forward. She crashes against his chest so hard that it knocks the wind out of her. “Where the fuck is she?” He leans down, his nostrils flaring as he brings their faces the closest they have been in almost a year.

“Joel, take a fucking breath—”

“Where. Is. She.” His grip on her arm tightens with each word he bites out through his teeth. He’s vaguely aware the others have piled out of the cabin, gathering on the porch to watch the altercation.

“She ran,” Tess explains, calmly. She doesn’t falter, not even as his fingers sink deeper into her skin, promising her painful bruises which will take days to fade away. If he decided to let her live. “She ran away, Joel. I turned my back for one fucking second and she was gone. She even took my fucking pack. I tried going after her, but it was no use. She was too fast.”

Behind him, Tommy snorts. “She outran you?”

Her eyes momentarily flicker to him. “Her knees are a lot younger than mine,” she replies, flatly.

“Which direction did she go in?” Joel demands. When Tess doesn’t immediately respond, he shouts, “Which fucking direction!”

Tess manages to snatch her arm out of his grasp. She glowers at him, hissing, “What the hell does it matter which direction she went? You won’t fucking find her.”

His eyes meet hers, and he sees it. Feels it.

She’s lying to him.

“Tess.” Joel’s voice drops dangerously low. He studies her face, his brows creasing with suspicion. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do shit, Joel. She fucking ran away.”

Without warning, Joel takes her by her throat. His other hand brings his pistol to her head, shoving the barrel of it against her temple. His nose touches hers. “Now, tell me why I have the feelin’ you’re not tellin’ me the whole truth?”

Tess lifts her chin. She searches his eyes, a sharp ache shooting through her. After everything, all the hell they had been through together—he would end her life, put a bullet in her because of you? Did she mean that little to him?

Or maybe she’d never meant anything to him at all?

She’s not sure which stings more.

“Because you’ve fucking deluded yourself into thinking that she willingly wants anything to do with you,” Tess finally answers. “That’s why.”

He ignores the burn of her scorching words.

“Where the fuck is she, Tess?”

“If she’s smart, she’s far away from here by now,” she hisses. “I did everyone a fucking favor, Joel. That girl is just another fucking mouth to feed. And what if you get her pregnant? That’ll be another one. Not to mention, a crying baby could draw unwanted attention and get us all killed. Ever thought about that? She’s not an asset to the group, she’s a fucking liability. Besides, I think I can speak for everyone when I say we’re all fucking tired of hearing you ra—”

Joel digs the barrel harder into her temple, his finger hovering over the trigger. “Listen to me. You’ve got ten seconds to tell me where she is, y’understand me?”

“Or what? You’ll blow my brains out?” Foolishly, Tess chooses to call his bluff despite not knowing for certain whether or not he’ll actually pull the trigger. “Go ahead, then. Kill me, Joel.”

His finger twitches over the trigger, but he doesn’t pull it. He can’t fucking pull it. Not on her. Not on Tess.

Still in his hands, she sags slightly in relief.

Swallowing harshly, Joel Miller lowers his gun and does something she’s never seen him do before. He begs.

“Tess, tell me where she is,” he whispers. His pleading is subtle, and only she can hear it. “Please—just fuckin’ tell me where my girl is.”

Tess stands her ground and says nothing.

Releasing her, Joel shoves her aside and with nothing but his gun in his hand, he sets off to find you.

“Ow, fuck!”

You gasp, quickly lifting your bare foot off the ground.

You’d stepped on something sharp—a stick, or maybe a rock?

In a desperate attempt to try and keep up with Tess’ tracks, you had stupidly left behind your shoes back at the waterfall. But the mere seconds you had spared by not stopping to put your shoes on hadn’t given you the advantage you thought it would. She had moved much too fast, and within minutes, you’d become helplessly, hopelessly lost. Every tree and every bush, they all look exactly the same, and for all you know, you’ve probably been going around in fucking circles for the past couple of hours in your search for her footprints in the dirt.

Sagging against the trunk of a nearby tree, you take a minute to try and catch your breath, to give your poor little feet a break from hiking over fallen branches and jagged stones.

Your head falls back, eyes gazing through the canopy of trees. Dusk has settled in, and nightfall is on its heels. It was foolish of you to leave behind your shoes, but even more so to leave behind the pack she had given you—in the pack were all the things meant to help you survive. Knife, flashlight, food.

Sure, you can survive a night out here in the wilderness without any of those things—but then what? Come dawn, what do you do? Where do you go? Do you just stumble around in the woods and hope for the best? Pray you’ll make it onto a highway with signs that will point you to a quarantine zone?

Hell, maybe you’re overestimating yourself. Maybe you wouldn’t survive long enough to worry about your next move. Howls in the distance remind you there’s wildlife out here, dangerous predators that come out after dark in search of their next meal. Or what about infected? It wasn’t unheard of for them to veer off the highway and lose themselves in the trees.

You recall your first few weeks in Joel Miller’s hands.

Escaping them was all you could ever think about, even though the chances of you surviving alone were slim to none, just like they are now. Never having been on your own, death would have been inevitable—but back then, in your darkest moments in captivity, you wished for it. You’d welcomed the idea of starving, freezing, or being torn apart limb from limb by an entire hoard of clickers. At least then, you’d die with your freedom.

Almost a year later, that wish has been granted.

You’re free.

You may very well die, but you would die free.

Closing your eyes, you think about Joel. His arms, that once held you down—held you still—as he did all those things to you without your consent, are arms your heart yearns to have wrapped around you, holding you close.

“Jesus,” you grit, a tear rolling down your cheek.

Maybe Tess had been right. Maybe he really does have you fucked in the head.

Joel was a monster. He had taken everything from you, including your innocence. He’d defiled you in ways you hadn’t known were possible. He was a terrible, terrible man.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you fed.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you warm.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you safe.

Another tear slides down the side of your face. What is fucking wrong with you?

You don’t know. But what you do know is, the thought of never seeing Joel again is somehow more terrifying to you than the thought of dying even the most brutal of deaths.

A loud rustling sound brings your train of thought to an immediate, sudden halt, and your eyes wrench open.

It’s darker now, but you manage to catch a movement in the shrubs, only mere feet in front of you. Panic flares in your chest, it rattles you to your very core, and even though every nerve in your body is urging you to move, you freeze, your back flush against the tree trunk. Your fingernails dig painfully into the bark as you watch the shrubs part down the middle, and a tall, hulking figure emerges with a heavy grunt.

At first, you think it’s just a figment of your imagination showing you what you wanted to see—a hallucination. Blinking furiously, you lightly shake your head, and then take another look at him. Your breath hitches when you realize it’s Joel.

He stares at you in the same manner, as if he’s trying to figure out if you’re real, or if his mind is playing a cruel, cruel trick on him. Feet cemented to the forest floor, he watches you take a small, tentative step towards him.

Once adamant that you’d never look him in the eye, you find your gaze locking directly with his as you carefully take another step closer. Then another, and another.

“Joel?” It’s the first time you’ve ever uttered his name.

He seems as taken aback hearing it as you are saying it.

“Joel.” It rolls off your tongue smoother, and with more ease the second time around.

It sparks a flame somewhere deep, deep inside of him, a fire that burns differently than those ignited by carnal desires.

No, this is something else entirely, and you feel it too.

“Baby?” he whispers hoarsely. “S’that really you?”

“Joel!” you cry, hurling yourself into his arms.

Joel’s gun falls from his hand and he curls them around you. Burying his nose into your hair, he inhales deeply. The scent of you, the feel of you—you’re fucking real.

Shuddering with sobs of relief, your arms wrap around his waist, and you cling to him as if you’re clinging onto dear, precious life itself.

“Hush now, s’alright,” Joel soothes, cradling the back of your head in one hand, while the rubs soft, calming circles into your back. “I’ve got you, honey. M’here.”

“I swear I didn’t want to run away,” you explain through your tears. “I begged her to take me back to you, Joel, I really did! But she left me out here—she said she would shoot me if I tried following her back. Please, you have to believe me, you just have to believe me!”

He squeezes you harder against his chest. “I do, baby. I do believe you,” he assures you. Pulling away, he takes a step backward and takes your face between his palms, peering at you in concern. “Y’hurt, sweetheart?”

“No,” you hiccup, curling your hands around his wrists. Your lower lip trembles. “I—I thought I’d never see you again. I was scared I wouldn’t,” you admit, softly.

Joel’s thumb wipes away a fresh tear. “M’here now,” he murmurs. “You’re with me, baby. You’re safe, alright?” As a late evening breeze passes through, he lets you go and shrugs out of his brown jacket. He goes to drape it around your shoulders, but you snatch it right out of his hands, then toss it aside.

Something in you snaps. You take fistfuls of his flannel, pulling him down towards you to do yet something else that takes you both by surprise—you initiate a kiss. You lean forward and press your lips to his, a little swipe of your tongue across his bottom lip as you clutch tighter at his shirt, holding him in place. Groaning, Joel opens his mouth more, his tongue brushing yours.

Liquid heat pools in your belly, and before you realize it, you’ve grown frantic, kissing him with fervor. Releasing his shirt, you slide your hands down his chest, over his stomach, lower and lower until you find his belt buckle. Desperate, you clumsily fumble with it, and that’s when Joel tears away from you, his breath hitching.

You’re begging before he can even say a word. “Please. I need you—I want you. Right now.”

You cup him through his jeans, and he exhales sharply.

“Fuck.” Without giving it a second thought, his hands reach for the straps of your dress, pushing them off of your shoulders. He roughly tugs at the material, letting it slip down your body until it falls around your feet. In a tangle of limbs and tongues, you both sink to the forest floor. Your hands brush his buckle, and he catches your wrists. “Not yet, baby girl. M’still in charge, alright?”

Sheepishly, you nod.

“Say it.” His command is firm, but somehow still gentle.

“You’re—you’re in charge.”

“Good girl.” Joel guides you onto your back. He’s over you in a second, swelling your lips with a hard, hungry kiss that leaves you dizzy and breathless. He moves his mouth, teeth scraping over your cheek and jaw, down to your neck where he nips at the tender, delicate flesh over your pulse point. Then, he bites his way over your collarbone and to your shoulder. “Bet she’s already wet for me,” he mumbles into your skin. “Ain’t she, baby?”

Pushing himself back onto his knees, he slides a finger over your clothed cunt, eliciting a small gasp from you. Hooking his fingers under the elastic waistband of your cotton underwear, he yanks the fabric down your legs. It catches on your foot, your wetness smearing against the inside of your ankle.

You’re drenched.

“C’mere,” Joel grunts, sliding his hands under your ass and pulling your hips over his thighs. He leans over you once more, your bare, throbbing cunt rubbing against the crotch of his jeans. He tuts lightly into your neck as you buck against him. “Such a fuckin’ needy little girl.”

Desperate, you try rolling your hips into his. “Joel.”

“Kinda like it when y’say my name.” He starts making his way down the length of your body. “Think I’ll like it even better when you’re screamin’ it. Won’t I, baby?”

Your stomach tightens as he nibbles his way down your neck again, teeth scraping over your clavicle and down your chest to your heaving tits. Taking one in his hand, the other goes into his mouth—his tongue is scorching hot over your nipple. He licks the pebbled flesh, sucks it and bites it while he rolls the other peak in between his thumb and index finger. “Oh fuck,” you gasp.

Releasing your breast with a wet pop, Joel sinks further down your body. He plants hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your tummy, leaving behind a trail of fire in their wake. He stops over your mound and hovers for a fraction of a second before pressing his nose into the silky soft curls there. Inhaling deeply, Joel picks up the subtle, herbal scent of the lavender soap you had washed yourself with. “Fuck, y’smell so fuckin’ good.”

He pushes your thighs open, pinning one to the ground with his hand while the other goes over his shoulder. Your foot slides down his back, toes curling despite the fact that he hasn’t even reached the spot where you’re aching to have him most. Heart thundering, your blood rushes, roaring in your ears.

Joel turns his head, his lips brushing your inner thigh in another kiss. “S’this where y’want me, honey?” he asks you. Goosebumps erupt over every inch of your skin as he draws closer, his breath like steam on your core. He glances up at you, his cock twitching against his zipper at the sight of you laying naked before him on the floor of the forest. Willing. Wanting. “Hm? Right here?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please, Joel.”

Thankfully, you only have to ask him once, and then his face is buried between your legs, and he is giving you what you want.

“Fuck!” you cry out. Back arching, your head tilts back until the crown of it meets the ground, leaves and twigs finding their way into your clean hair.

Joel’s tongue flattens over your cunt in a broad stroke, then dips between your folds, collecting your slick with a harsh groan, one that sends a bone-rattling vibration throughout your entire body, from head to curled toes. His mouth opens wider—a starving, greedy man trying to eat you whole. Sliding his tongue over your clit, Joel seals his lips around it, sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves until it swells in his mouth.

High-pitched little cries and whines spill from your lips. Your hands shoot down, fingers tangling themselves in his dark, graying curls, eliciting a grunt from him when you tug at his roots. “Joel, fuck,” you choke, your nails scraping against his scalp. He slurps and swallows your wetness, the sounds drowning out those of the night—the chirping of crickets, the croaking of frogs, the soft hooting of owls are washed away until all you can hear is him devouring your pussy.

Your body starts to tremble, and you know you’re close. Joel does, too. He feels your thighs twitch, threatening to close around his head, but he wrenches them further apart with a muffled but firm, “No.” He drapes his arm over your pelvis, his large hand splayed on your belly.

Relentless, he sucks your clit, gliding his tongue over it, again and again until the muscles in your lower tummy tighten and you burst at the seams, unraveling into his mouth. Warm slick gushes out of you, a sweet mess he licks clean. You choke back sobs of pleasure, your body tensing, vision blurring with every stroke of his tongue, each scrape of his teeth over your clit.

Joel lifts himself onto his knees with a grunt and gazes down at you—his good girl, sweet and pliant and ready to be fucked full of his cock. His hands slide his belt out of its brass buckle, eyes still trained on you as he pops the button of his jeans and yanks down his zipper.

Your mind is fuzzy, still syrupy and dripping—it doesn’t fully register what he’s doing, not until he climbs back over you and you his hard cock brushes your thigh, hot velvet that sears the inside of your leg. Precum smears your flesh.

“Y’feel that? Feel what you fuckin’ do to me?”

“Joel.” Hands shaking, you reach for the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel more of his skin on yours. You whine when he catches both of your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head. “Your clothes—”

“Stay on.” Ducking his head, he nips at your pulse point and mumbles, “Tell me what y’want, pretty girl.”

Joel shifts over you, his cock now resting on your lower belly, thick and heavy and leaking.

You squirm under him, hips coming off the ground, that hollow thing inside of you begging to be filled.

“Use your words, sweetheart. Tell me what y’want.”

“You, Joel—I want you. Please, please, please—”

He hushes you.

“I’ve you, baby. I’ve got you,” Joel promises. He wraps his other hand around himself, dragging the head of his cock along the seam of your puffy folds, up and down—he elicits a ragged little gasp from you when he grazes your clit and his fingers tighten around your wrists. He coats himself in your slippery slick until he’s glistening with it, and then he gives a slow roll of his hips, working himself into you.

Your mouth falls open. No words come out, no pleas for more—only jerky breaths, pathetic little pants for air as you take it.

Joel’s cock throbs, pulses like a heartbeat as your cunt welcomes him home. He presses his forehead to yours. “She’s always so fuckin’ sweet to me.” His voice is low, rough gravel. His eyes meet yours in the dark blue glow of the forest, and he savors the last moments of seeing your pretty face before the last traces of dusk are gone. Brushing his lips to the corner of your mouth, he feeds you his cock inch by inch, murmuring, “That’s it, honey. Good fuckin’ girl.”

You melt around him at his praise.

Releasing your wrists, he moves his hand, placing it on the crown of your head. “Ain’t ever lettin’ you out of my sight again,” he swears. “Alright? Never gonna be apart from me again, baby girl. Never. Y’understand me?” He curls his other hand firmly around your jaw, his fingers sticky with you and him. “Do you understand me?”

“Never,” you repeat, softly.

Joel kisses you, deep and slow, almost sweet. Tender. He breaks away, his lips hovering right over yours as he pushes his hips forward, bottoming out inside you.

Moaning, your hands grasp at his shoulders. Your legs widen further to accommodate the breadth of his hips.

“There y’go.” Joel presses deep within, until your belly feels hot and full. “That’s it, baby. Good girl,” he coos, drawing his hips back, then rolling them right back into you. He takes one of your ankles and tosses it over his shoulder, giving himself a better angle to fuck into you.

A loud cry tears from the back of your throat. “Joel!”

He grins in the darkness. He knew he’d like hearing you scream his name.

Joel’s hand settles on your leg that’s over his shoulder, your thigh already shaking. “Y’gonna be a real good girl n’ give me another one?”

You try to answer him, you really do, but your mind falls further and further away.

His fingertips sink into your thigh. He strokes in and out of you, never retreating more than inches at a time so he keeps you full. Stuffed. “Christ. Takin’ it so fuckin’ well,” he croons, moving your leg off of his shoulder so they are both wrapped around his waist. Hunching over you, he bears down hard, using most of his weight. He almost chuckles at the little oof that puffs out of you.

Rocks and twigs dig painfully into your back, but all you can do is feel him. How close he is.

You’re right there with him.

“Joel—fuck, I’m gonna co—”

You’re cut off by your own sharp gasp.

“That’s it. C’mon, honey.” Joel slips his hand between your thighs, his fingers firmly rubbing your clit. “C’mon, baby. Be a good girl and come on my cock—”

It rips through you like an electric current, a shockwave that has you clawing at the dirt. You come crying Joel’s name, crumbling into a whimpering, quivering mess.

Within seconds, he’s swept away by the same tide.

“Baby,” he groans, dropping his head into the hollow of your neck. He goes still and lets your tight cunt clench at him, gripping his cock as it throbs, pulses, empties into you. After a minute, he brushes a kiss to your neck before mumbling, “My sweet girl.”

Joel makes no move to pull out of you. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, your soiled fingers toy with the soft curls at the nape of his neck, shattered breaths slowing and piecing back together.

You gaze up through the trees at the night sky, feeling the safest you’ve ever been with the earth at your back and your whole world on top of you, his cock buried in your cunt.

Tess is right. Joel Miller really does have you fucked in the head.

You’re certain of it when you make the realization with a smile.

divider credit to @/saradika 🖤

for fic notifications please follow @joelsgreysupdates!

[pedrosyouknowwhat]

Catching fireflies

Trilogy masterlist

Pairings: Dark! Joel Miller x Fem! Reader

Chapter warnings: Dead dove do not eat, dubcon borders noncon, coercion, manipulation, age gap (reader is 19-20 and Joel is 56), unprotected p in v, alcohol consumption, pussy slapping, mention of blood, virginity loss, creampie, inexperienced reader

You slouched over the bar, giggled resonating with the loud, thumping music.

"Aw come on Jerry, you know me since I was a kid!" You pushed, fingers brushing against the worn wood, sticky with years of spilled whiskey; the old bartender chuckle hoarsely. The banter was playful, a brief respite the people of Jackson allowed themselves in the ruckus of the Apocalypse, some glee.

"The world may be fucked up, but you are still underage." He answered, cheeks tinted both from the laughing and the unforgiving summer heat.

Another drunken citizen chirped in, telling the man to give you a drink. Although you knew his intentions were far from kind, you allowed him to fuel the laughter. You hid your uneasiness deep down as you tugged your flowy skirt down your thighs.

The door bell clinked open, but before you could turn around and see, a cup of lemonade was placed in front of you. You inspected the drink with feigned offense.

"Come on Jerry, just one beer." You pleaded, doing your best puppy dog eyes.

"You want Maria to kill me?" He excused, and you rolled your eyes at the excuse you have heard a thousand times.

Like when you asked a boy to be your boyfriend, or when you ask for Tommy to bring you a pretty dress. It all resorted to your mother, well adopted mother; she had taken care of you after your mother died in the outbreak, but it also meant the community held you as some kind of baby Jesus. Always no, always strict.

"Well, Maria can't kill me." You heard a deep seated, growly chuckle behind you, and you peeked over your shoulder.

A man with dark pepper and salt hair, broad shoulder and big, brown eyes. He held a smirk, adorned by a thick, well trimmed, beard that matched his hair. It clicked a tad too late, the resemblance.

"Joel Miller, what are you doing here?" Jerry greeted with a laugh, making the man's gaze lift from you.

"Decided to stick to one place at a time." He explained, nearing the counter. He nudged towards you with his head. "Give her something, on my tab, come on."

Jerry's smile turn into a scowl as he added cheap vodka to your lemonade, and you squealed in excitement, muttering a chant of thank you's to him. You almost forgot about Joel beside you as you sipped the straw.

"So you are, Maria's girl?" He asked, and your eyes shot to him, as a child caught stealing candy.

"Well yes," you sputtered. "Adopted." You added, but it felt weird to clarify.

"Well I'm lucky you are not my niece."

You giggled slightly, was that a compliment?

"Or else you wouldn't be buying me drinks?" you said, and it came out flirtier than you thought. He hummed in response, and the way his shoulders rose sent a tingle through your body.

He's like twice my age. You thought, and that was enough to slip you right out of your giddy trance. You started thinking of excuses to ditch him and head back to your friends, fumbling with the fear of coming off as rude. But the way his eyes lingered on your white lacey dress beneath the thick denim jacket made you unease.

He asked Jerry for a beer, turning to you with a sip. "Wanna go outside?"

Your lips fell apart but words didn't spill, and you head just nodded. Okay, I'll go outside and then tell him I need to go back to my friends. But as you felt lingering stares into the summer night, Joel maimed you with conversation.

He was intriguing to say the least, speaking in short, concise sentences that kept stringing questions into your mind. He spread against a bench as you sat on the edge of the seat, interrogating him in his many adventures.

"There are some things a young thing like you can't hear." He excused, lighting a cigarette between his thick chapped lips. You whined, catching his attention.

Soon enough you were laying your head on your hand against the bench, eyes fluttering as you mustered to keep asking him, keep him talking. His accent was thick, similar to Tommy's.

"Someone's getting tired?" You heard once your eyes were shut, you hummed in response. "Let me take you home."

You questioned if Maria or Tommy would get mad as you walked up the cobblestone, then you laughed at yourself. It was Tommy's brother, the one you have heard stories almost all your life, although having met him randomly, you doubted they'll get mad if they saw him walking you up to your door.

Still, you peeked to the house beside you, checking that the lights were off before turning to face him.

"Well thank you, Joel?" You smiled curtly, waiting for him to leave before opening the door.

"Nice thing you got here, gonna let me in?"

The question felt weird, suggestive.

"You need something?" You asked, a bit more abruptly than you wanted it to come off, but tiredness seeped into you.

Joel blinked, his brows drawing together. "I must be doin’ somethin’ wrong. Pretty girls usually don’t leave me out in the cold." He explained, perhaps way to bitterly. You feel your cheeks warm up as you look around, seeing no one. "but I guess you are too young for that, right?"

You felt yourself cringe at how dumb you felt, young felt almost like an insult. Your gaze fell to your feet, seeing his rugged leather boots.

"it's okay baby," He sighed, and the word slipped out of his tongue effortlessly. "everyone got a first time."

The slight relief that had washed over you dissipated, as if burnt by the heat of his gaze, and everything that had been told of men poured into your mind.

"I-I am not that type of girl." You spluttered, and instantly cursed to yourself.

Joel sniggered, and you felt small in front of his thick, broad body. damn, you had to crane your neck to look at his face.

"Oh I know baby," He drawled, and his hand slowly came up to your face, tucking a strand behind your ear. The word rolled out, sending shivers down your spine. "Just wanted to know you got onto bed safely, and you don't, you know, sleep in the couch- you look so tired."

You nodded, biting your lip. Hastily, you opened the door and turn on the lights. It was pretty small, but it worked; Tommy and Maria wanted you to have your own house, being perhaps to crowded in theirs, but they still wanted to keep you close.

"There's juice on the fridge," You offered timidly, looking how his big figure looked almost comical in your house. "I'm going to change, um, I think I'm good now."

He didn't answer, boots thumping against the floor boards as he observed the pictures over the fireplace. You shrugged to yourself, slipping into your bedroom.

You wondered if he was still there as you changed into your pijama set, something that was sewn for you by Maria, and layered a hoodie on top to check is he was still there.

To no one's surprise, he was, leaning over the wall as is waiting for you.

"I'm going to sleep now," You laugh dryly, pointing to your bedroom as if clarifying you weren't sleeping on the couch.

He looked pretty, and you felt weird for thinking that of a man so much older. He stalled, looking at your for a bit longer.

"Come here," He commanded, and you felt yourself freeze. he saw you, your doe eyed look as you stared at him, pleadingly. "come here baby, I don't bite."

He's Tommy's brother, I know Tommy since I was ten, come on.

You walked over to him, bare feet almost tripping over each other. You stopped a feet away from him, looking expectantly. He rose from the wall, closing the distance between the two of you.

"You are a pretty girl, you know that right?" He told you, and you felt yourself blush as you nodded, weakly. "words, baby."

"Yes, Joel." You answered; a smile tugged once again at his lips, pleased.

"And I'm telling you this for you to take care of yourself, okay?"

You repeated the answer, seeing his chest slightly swell at your obedience.

"You can't let men enter your house like this." He explained, and your brows knitted together in confusion. "They can get... wrong ideas, alright baby?"

"I'm sorry." You said, although you weren't; you were confused.

"Sweet innocent thing," He drawled, and his hand rose to cradle your cheek, forcing you to look into his deep, dark eyes. They looked almost black in the dim lighting. "Have you ever had your first kiss?"

The question struck you, and you felt shame; his touch felt deceiving. As if he was mocking. You shook your head, and he tutted.

"No, Joel." You mumbled, questioning why you kept repeating his name after each answer.

His smile turn into a grin, hand now cupping your jaw.

"Gonna help you with that, just so you-wake up, a bit-darling, alright?"

Before you could even wonder what he meant, his grip became tighter as he pulled you closer, lips clashing into yours. You gasped, and he slipped his tongue into your mouth, as if searching for yours. His free hand coiled around your waist, pushing you closer and your hands felt onto his chest. His finger trailed closer to your neck, keeping you in place as he ravaged your mouth.

He let go, leaving your breathless, chest heaving as you gazed up to him in shock. His mouth was twisted into a hungry snarl as he came down to whisper in your ear. "Don't tell them about this, baby."

You woke up the next day believing it was a dream, a twisted and weird dream or perhaps that one glass you had drunk, but when Maria told you to come over for dinner, to celebrate Joel's welcome into the community, and you felt his piercing stare on yours, you knew you hadn't dreamed it. You were quiet at dinner, letting them speak and catch up; Joel was more talkative than you remembered.

You wanted to isolate the incident at your house, to think it was just him genuinely teaching you something, but a fire rose through you each time you were captive to those big, puppy dog eyes. You hadn't kiss anyone since him, and the feeling lingered in your lips. You found yourself thinking about him, about his thick body.

He wasn't teasing as usual around the others, perhaps grumpier with them. He flashed you small smiles and pats in the back, and he supplied all your drinks from the bar, telling you to "go get lost kid" each time he saw you begging by the counter. His change of demeanor made you wonder, if you weren't good enough or mature enough; you had never thought that, not until Joel Miller appeared in your life.

The doubt had crept over you for too long before you gathered your bravery and decided to sneak out to see him; his house stayed on the farther side of town, the one were less people were around. You slipped through back yards and trees the way day, questioning what exactly you were planning until you came face to face with him, sitting in his porch with a guitar on his hand.

"Hi." You greeted, breathless.

"Baby, what are you doing here?" He asked, and hearing the nickname once again made you gush. He looked around, perhaps worried, as he beckoned you to come closer.

"I-I wanted to see you." You confessed, shamefully, and before you sat down he stood up, nudging to the house.

"Come in, can't have you out here."

You followed him inside, jumping when he neared you as soon as the door slam shut. His hands made their way to your hips, impatiently; you got whiff of his cologne, leather and eucalyptus. You wide-eyedly looked up at him, hands pressing into his flannel. You liked his hair that way, slicked back, fresh from the shower.

"Why did you kiss me the other night?" You muttered.

You saw him hesitate with words, struggle, bite his lip as if he was trying to keep his words in. You suddenly felt overly conscious of the way your jacket draped over your body, of the way your jean shorts clung around your thighs and the low cut of your tank top; perhaps you didn't look as good as you expected.

"Baby, don't do this to me." He pleaded, although it sounder more like a demand.

"Please." You begged, fingers latching on tighter.

"It's wrong baby, so wrong." he growled, eyes dipping to your lips. You almost whined at the tone.

Your head cocked to the side, tears brimming in your eyes; what was wrong with you? He just kissed you.

"But why?" You whined; his grip tightened around you.

"Tommy would kill me." He grunted, head turning to look around, evading your eyes, evading you; still his grip persisted, as if holding you in place. "If he found out that- that I like you this much-"

"You like me?" You implore, lips tugging into a small, goofy smile.

He looked at you like a man starved, a man punished. "Oh baby," He panted, pressing your body to his. "I really like you, but Tommy would-"

Each time he repeated his name it irked you, like a scratched record. You cut him short. "Tommy won't know."

His tortured eyes soften, a glint of... hope? ignited. You battled the guilt setting in the back of your brain, the promise you had made despite everything Tommy and Maria had given you.

"You wouldn't tell him?" He questioned, voice as soft as silk.

"No," You spoke quickly, scared he might slip from your grasp. "I-I like you too, Joel."

He let out a small chuckle, and you felt lighter. You allowed yourself to chuckle too, and he called your name softly, you hummed in response.

"No one can know baby, alright?" He told you, hand cupping your cheek. You wanted to savor the tenderness of the moment, but his lips were on yours quickly.

It wasn't your first kiss now, and it was frankly more expected than the other; you attempted to keep up with his demanding pace, lips barely parting to allow his tongue to slip in and taste you. His mouth "o"ed against yours, hungrily as your felt his grip on the nape of your neck.

Suddenly his body was pushing you, your feet stumbling as he guided you. Against a wall? the table? your mind buzzed, attempting to find an answer to what he was doing before your knees buckled into the couch, the stripey green fabric cushioning your fall.

His body fell onto you, settling his thick torso between your legs as he pulled away briefly; his hair had messed up a bit, his lips pink from his assault, and his eyes furrowed like some animal; everything about his gaze felt predatory.

He fixed himself in his forearms, rubbing the zipper of his dark jeans into your clothed core, sending a gaspy whine out of you.

"J-Joel?" You muttered as his face hid in the crook of your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses against your blazing skin. He grunted in response, a paw sliding up your thighs; panic brewed in you. "Joel I don't-um-"

He unslotted himself from you, face mere inches away as he looked at you. Joel looked angry, but he couldn't possibly be, right?

"I'm not ready for that." You admitted, like a sinner repenting.

His gaze left you, looking at the empty table, huffing. You felt tears kiss the brim of your eyes, scared to have offended him once again.

"It's fine baby," He grunted, but it felt like it wasn't. He slightly shifted, inches away from you.

"I'm sorry," You choked, doubting to confess further. "I have never done t-that."

You caught his gaze, a small grin on his lips. "It's fine baby," He repeated, and his eyes lighted a bit. "just promise me somethin', alright?"

"Yes, yes." You nodded, fearing he was going to ask you something you won't like. Like forgetting him.

"Promise me I'll be your first."

A month had passed since you sealed your fate, like some sacrificial lamb. You felt as if you were being prepared for it too, Joel slipping into your home late at night, after a long day of practically ignoring you, and kissing your breathless against your walls, your couch and your bed. His hand had wondered over your clothed core a handful of times, hushing your worry by telling you he "Just wanted to see something".

An event that burn into your mind was one night where he was particularly agitated, grasping you roughly as usual. As his hips rutted into the mattress, he whispered something into your ear that sent shivers down your spine.

"Let me see her." He panted, seeing how your eyes narrowed as if you were wincing in doubt. "Please, baby."

His pleads were answered with a small nod that could be mistaken as anything else; you allowed him to bend you over the bed, as you allowed him to touch in places Maria had told you not to allow anyone to touch you. His calloused finger tips pulled down your pijama pants along with your white, sodden panties.

"For a girl that tells me she isn't ready, you are soaking wet baby." He commented, hand splaying in your ass. You felt your core clench at his words.

The light buzz of the zipper woke you up from your trance, and his name bubbled in your throat. "Relax baby, ain't gonna put it in."

You felt the wooden frame of the bed dig at your hips as the dim moonlight casted shadows around the room. You waited, silently, until you heard low, familiar groans behind you. You didn't want to look behind your back, his tightening grip on your ass sending cold sweet along your skin.

His grunts were vivid in your ear against the silence of the night, and you closed your eyes until it was over, despite not knowing for how long he could go. You were on the edge of falling asleep, the only thing keeping you away was the burning pinch on your skin. He became louder, you begged he would just shut up. Something ran across your mind, if it was even appropriate to ask him when was it over.

As a horrible wish you felt hot ropes lather against your backside, slipping through crevices, leaving a sticky trail. He let go of you, panting as his knees cracked, floorboards accompanying the sound.

You didn't want to move, in fear that his waste would dirty things up. You failed to hear him leave and come back, the cooling sensation of a wet rag cleaning the flaky stickiness on your skin being a strange delight.

"You are so good for me, baby." He praised, and your heart swelled. You flashed him a small smile as the waistband snapped back in place. "Gonna take you to a date tomorrow, you'd like that baby?"

You spent every waking hour thinking about that; he told Tommy he needed help running some errands, a bit of hunting here and there, something like that. You were almost sure Tommy only said yes because of how your face lit up at the mention of leaving the fortress of Jackson for a few hours.

A gentle breeze stroked your cheek, warmed by the setting sand as Joel took your delicate hands in his tanned, calloused ones. His figure was darkened by the rays that blinded you. Your cow girl boots padded on the uneasy ground, long grass stroking your legs as the cherry print sundress flowed.

"Where are you taking me, Mr Miller?" You asked with a sly chuckle, slightly unsettled by the normalcy of it all; it felt almost like before the outbreak. The nickname rolled down your tongue teasingly.

"Just a date," He answered shortly, leading you into a emptier valley. You gasped at the sight. "over here."

Sure, the blanket was the usual he kept at the back of his truck, and there wasn't a champagne bottle, or flowers or food, just a half empty bottle of whiskey. But the effort overwhelmed you.

You had expected more when he told you to wait in the car, but it was enough to make you jump into his thick arms.

"Oh thank you," You almost sobbed, chest heaving. You separated yourself to look into his eyes, but the dark browns skimmed down your neckline as he stepped back into the blanket. "You are so sweet, I-"

He landed with a slight thud into the ruddy blanket, and pulled you on top of him.

"Anything for my baby." he mumbled, propping you on top of him. A hand tangling into your hair as he pushed your lips into his, tongue slipping into your mouth as he grabbed a fistful of your ass. You yelped, pulling away.

His expression soured, eyebrows knitting together as you let out a slight giggle, attempting to dissipate the tension.

"Are we going to watch the sunset?" You asked eagerly as you slipped out of his lap, and he fisted the whiskey bottle. Haphazardly, he opened it and took a swig before nudging it into your arm. "Oh, I have never drank whiskey-"

"Come on baby, it won't kill you." He cut you short. You allowed it to burn it's way into you, perhaps scared of displeasing him.

Soon you were even more giggly as you draped yourself over the blanket. Joel's scowl had dissipated, and he was once again singing sweet things into your ear.

"You are so pretty," He mumbled against your neck, placing tender, testing kisses. "Such a pity you are so young."

You grunted at his words, playfully glaring at him. "What do you mean?"

Because what could he mean? You were basically dating, if you knew anything about that; he took you on dates away from Jackson, preaching about privacy, and he visited you late at night, through the backdoor.

He let out a dry laugh as he took one glance into the sky, now painted a light blue as the sun cast it's last goodbyes. You propped yourself in your elbows, getting a better look on his pepper and salt hair and thick beard.

"You are too young for me," he repeated, and you felt nervous by the way he evaded your eyes. "too innocent-"

"I'm not innocent." You almost barked, hand slapping against your lips as you realized how quickly you had said it. "I mean-I don't see how that is a problem."

He finally looked at you with a down turned smile, as if assessing you.

"Come on baby," He nagged, stroking your cheek. "a man like me has, I don't know how to say this, but needs."

You knew what he meant, and it scared you. He had tried a month ago, when you have started dating, and you panicked. He had taken you home for the bar, and perhaps you understood it; that was what people usually do, at least he had told you that. And he was respectful about it too, any time his hand would slip up your thigh, you just had to give him a tight lipped smile for him to stop.

But he was right. Men had needs. Everyone told you about it, most of the time it was a warning, to not be so naive, because men could do and would do bad things to you, just because of these needs.

But Joel wasn't like those men, he was good, he was nice, he even brought you gifts every time he went out for munitions, like what looked like really expensive underwear.

"I know," You spoke slowly, slurred by the amount of whiskey you had taken. "I-I can do it."

A smile appeared on his lips, and once again he looked so sweet when happy.

"You sure baby?" He asked, but his body was already falling on top of yours. The rough fabric of his jeans slide through your thighs, and you felt his zipper line up against your core. "You'll make me the happiest man alive."

It felt sudden, but you had literally told him you were willing to do it, you thought.

He had jumped over you like a coyote over his pray, placing open mouthed kisses over you as his hand palmed over you. He pulled your panties to the side, fingers playing with the slickness you had deprived him off for so long.

His finger prints traced over your fleshy bit, the button that stood at the top of your slit, the one that throbbed when he pressed himself to you. You whined, his ministrations a bit too rough, too intense as you felt as if you were being electrocuted.

You gasped when his thick finger broke into you, a sting following its path. "So tight baby," He mumbled by your shoulder, your eyelids shooting close in pain. "have to open you up for my cock."

The way he said it made you felt even more dirty, but he was he one staining you, and if he liked it that much, it couldn't be so bad, right?

His wet finger left your cunt to fiddle with his belt, you heard the clunk zip sounds along his grunts as he lowered his jeans.

"Take a look baby," He called, and you slowly peeked your eyes opened to look between his legs.

In his hand he held his cock. It's red hot tip weep sadly, veins decorating its side; it was longer than his fist, and thicker than any vegetable you have seen around. A weird comparison, but it was all you thought at the moment.

You head begun to shake, eyes shooting pleadingly at him. "Joel, it's not gonna- is it even gonna fit?"

He chuckled, proudly, as his hand continued to pump precum around it. "It's supposed to baby, your body is made for that."

You nodded, biting your lower lip; he knew better than you. You felt the urge to ask him if he had done this before, but it was probably stupid.

"Lay down baby," He ordered, and you slowly plopped back onto your back. "Spread this legs nice and wide for me."

He saw you doubt, so he forced his body between them, hands at your knees. He laughed about something, looking down between your bodies. You felt the hot tip heavy against you, against the opening. Your hands clenched the blanket beneath you, knuckles turning white, and he pushed in.

Pressure, pressure, pain.

You yelped painfully as you felt the intrusion, body jolting away on instinct. He tutted at you, hands gripping your hips tightly.

"Baby, now we gotta put it in again." He scolded, your head swag from side to side, scared of muttering the words. You fought against his grip. "Stay still."

He growled the last part, and your heart hammered against your chest. You felt searing pain once again, as he pushed in. Your lips parted and a hoarse scream came out, surprising you.

A hand that could break your neck slapped against it, keeping your head still. He met your terrified eyes, tears rolling down your temples form the pain.

"God baby you wanna get us killed?" He barked lowly. "It's going to hurt more if you keep squirming; gonna do this quickly, rip the bandage, alright baby? promise you'll like it afterwards."

He kept talking, but your mind went blank with white hot pain as you felt his hips flush against yours as the agony stilled for a second. It all came back, crushing you as you heard his deep seated moan, your thighs fought against it, shutting close against his torso.

"Take it," He groaned, unlike his usual sweet demeanor. "Take it like a good girl, my good girl."

His hand still clasped over your mouth, and through your blurry eyes you could see his face, hear him; he was happy, he liked it. The praise went straight to your cunt, allowing some ache to dull.

He was going at it for hours, the sun now long gone as all you could do was feel him; the drag of your cock in and out in quick hard motions, his wandering hands pulling down your dress to lick and suck at your neck. And you heard him too, his groans and grunts and the dirty words he shot at you, becoming dirtier and rougher with each thrust.

"Taking my cock so good, bad girl."

"Such a whore, fucking an old man like me, huh?"

"Stop fucking whining, you love it, little perfect slut."

It became too much, any pleasure his strokes could cause disappearing as he lifted your ass off the ground to fuck into you. You whined, feeling the pressure on your clit, a throbbing. A hand came down upon your sensitive skin, slapping there.

You chanted his name, feeling sweat bead against your skin as he gave you blow after blow, sending you clenching around his cock.

"Gonna cum around my cock, huh baby? as I'm slapping your little pussy?" He questioned, and you blabbered a yes.

His thumb begun revolving around your soft point, the rest of his hand pressing down on your abdomen. You allowed the foreign feeling to take over you as his cock thrust up into you, hitting a spongy spot that sent your back curling against the ground.

"J-joel!" You whined, shrieking as you came undone under him.

Any muscle that tensed came undone too, cramping against you as Joel picked up your thighs, pressing them against your chest as he gave precise fucks into you.

"Gonna cum inside of you," He growled. "Fill you nice and deep, baby."

His body weight fell on top of you, stretching your legs even further as you felt his cock twitch inside you. The wetness spilled further inside you, and you quietly listened to his staggered breaths as you came down from your high.

The blood hadn't dried off the blanket as he said it was getting late and walked you to the truck. You waddled, slight pain in your lower belly as you followed him.

"Wasn't that bad, right baby?" He asked you, the light of the truck illuminating his face in a warm glow. His hair was messy, damp with sweat, and he lit a cigarette between his lips.

"It was good." You smiled absentmindedly. "Thank you, Joel."

[koshkamartell]

This is my submission for the Dead Dove December 2024 event held by my dear friend @romana-after-dark. I hope you guys like it!

summary: oneshot set in AU, no outbreak. You are a down on your luck waitress who impulsively steals from a man at a casino one night. Unfortunately for you, he doesn't give up easily.

warnings: noncon anal penetration, degradation, coarse language, noncon digital penetration, gambling, theft, slut shaming, mention of sex work, unspecified hefty age gap, reader is feminine but not described in detail.

word count: 4,500

You knew he might try find you, but you didn't think he would go any further than the front doors of the casino. You thought he would stalk around the black jack tables a few times, search throughout the scores the slot machines, maybe even check the high rollers lounge and the rooftop balcony. You knew he would be angry when he realised what you did but you didn't expect him to bother chasing you too far.

You had high tailed it out of there pretty quickly once you stole the chips and cashed out, anyway. Out onto the strip you strutted, abuzz with smug triumph, holding tightly to your purse stuffed with cash. You checked into a hotel a few blocks away, deciding to treat yourself to a deluxe room with a queen sized bed and room service.

Sure, you had done the wrong thing. You knew you had. It wasn't that you were a bad person, though - you were just desparate. Living in a shitty trailer and working your ass off waitressing had driven you to the edge of hopelessness. You were sick of slaving away to earn enough money to survive through the week. You were sick of the disgusting men who oogled you and treated you like a piece of meat while you served them burgers and fries and endless cups of coffee. You had been beaten down by the hardships of life for years now and there never seemed to be any hope for a better future for you. You were never granted a reprieve from the drudgery of your dull existence, not even for a day.

Until the night you met Joel and got greedy.

Joel Miller rarely gambled. He enjoyed the occasional game of poker or darts with his work buddies but he was never a hustler. He had seen his little brother Tommy lose way too much money betting on football games and amateur poker tournaments to want to take a risk himself. He was definitely the more sensible of the two.

He wasn't a party animal, either. It wasn't in his nature to be wild and carefree; becoming a single dad at a young age and raising a daughter while earning a living as a contractor had moulded him into a pragmatic, no-nonsense kind of man. His workaholic dedication to his profession and his responsibilities as a parent had left little room for pleasure in his personal life, anyway.

And even though Joel's daughter is an adult now, living her own life in another state, he still leads a quiet existence outside work. Tommy teases him for being a boring old bastard, but the truth is Joel has always craved a simple life, so he's content with how things are. He downs a whiskey every night and more often than not falls asleep on the couch while watching a movie.

But tonight is different. One of the guys in his work crew is having a bachelor party, so Tommy finally had a good reason to drag Joel out of the house to enjoy a night out. Even though he grumbled and groused about being too old for this shit, Joel acquiesced and joined the group of men for a night of bar hopping (and even a visit to a strip club). At Tommy's insistence they ended up stopping at one of the casinos to try their luck at some poker and blackjack.

It took some convincing from the guys and a few shots of whiskey to get Joel to loosen up enough to get into the spirit of things. He won some money and lost some money but actually managed to have some fun along the way. He was going to call it a night but decided to lay a last minute bet at the roulette table, just for the hell of it. To his surprise he ended up winning.

"You lucky son of a bitch," Tommy laughed in shock, clapping Joel on the shoulder. "Who woulda thought?"

Joel grinned smugly and accepted the stack of chips offered to him by the table dealer. Emboldened by the win and the guys encouragement, Joel placed another bet on the roulette table but promised himself it was his last for the night. He braced himself for disappointment when the spinning wheel slowed down, reminding himself that everybody's luck ran out at some stage. The little round ball bobbled along the slots until it came to a halt on red 23, the slot that Joel had placed his chips on.

The men all whooped and cheered when they saw the result and Joel couldn't help the smile that broke out on his face. The dealer pushed a large stack of chips towards Joel with an uttered congratulations, sir.

"Keep goin', man," Tommy whispered in his ear. "You're fuckin' killin' it, got a lucky streak, Joel, you gotta ride it."

Joel shook his head and collected the stacks of chips in his hands. "Tom, I just won ten grand. Odds are I'm gonna lose it all if I keep goin'."

Satisfied with his takings and ready to go home, Joel bid his brother and friends goodnight and went on his way to the cashier cage to cash out his winnings. He was standing in line waiting to be served when something bumped his elbow. He turned to look at what had knocked him, and there his eyes fell upon you.

You. Young, pretty, well made up. Dress short enough to show off your legs but just long enough to cover your ass. His eyes flickered down the length of your body and back up again, trailing over your cleavage before meeting your eyes. You were gorgeous.

"Oh, sorry about that!" You smiled brightly. "Didn't mean to run into you, mister."

Joel gave you a polite smile in return. "No problem, ma'am."

You fluttered your eyelids and sashayed away from him, glancing over your shoulder with a flirty little smirk. Joel felt his cheeks blush as he watched you leave, his gaze glued to the way your ass swayed with each step of your heels. Goddamn. He felt the blood rush to his cock. Were you actually flirting with him? No, surely not. You were way too young, way too attractive to want an old man like him. Shit, maybe you were a working girl, looking for a john for the night.

Joel shook his head and turned back to face the cashier's cage. He would have to resign himself to the fantasies in his head tonight.

It wasn't until he finally arrived at the cashier's desk and had his chips counted that Joel realised you had stolen $5,000 from him.

It has been about half an hour since your escape.

Your dress, underwear and heels lay discarded in a heap on the floor of your hotel room. Your unzipped purse sits on the nightstand by the bed, a thick wad of cash poking out from its pocket. You slip into a fluffy white bathrobe and stretch out on the bed to flick through the TV channels. Soon you'll take a bubble bath in the luxurious looking tub, then when your room service order arrives you'll stuff yourself with nachoes and a deluxe chocolate milkshake.

Fuck. You can't remember the last time you had experienced the granduer of being so pampered. You close your eyes for and sigh, savouring the moment of serenity for a minute. Right now you're in heaven, your own personal bubble of indulgence, and it feels fucking amazing.

A knock at the door startles you from your dreamy reverie. That must be room service, you guess. It has arrived earlier than expected, before you had a chance to hop in the bath, but a change in plans doesn't bother you too much. You've got all night, after all. You smile to yourself as you scramble off the bed and pad over to the door.

You twist the handle and open the door, expecting to be greeted by a smiling hotel employee carrying a fancy silver tray. Instead, you are met with the scowling face of the man you conned at the casino, his tall figure crowding the doorway. The sight of him right before you is like a nightemarish hallucination, and you gasp in fright, your heart leaping into your throat.

Despite being so caught off guard by his appearance your survival instincts quickly kick in. You hurry to try and slam the door shut but he's too swift; he wedges his work boot over the threshold to prevent it from closing before shouldering his way inside the room. You squeal and stumble backwards toward the bed, terrified by the intrusion.

How did he find you?

Joel calmly closes the door behind him and turns the lock. The soft sound of the latchbolt clicking into place prompts an ominous twist of dread to coil within your stomach.

Is he going to kill you?

"I'm sor--" you begin to say.

"No one ever teach you right from wrong?" Joel barks angrily, cutting you off. He glares at you with his dark eyes full of ire, his mouth set in a snarl of disgust. His large hands fidget by his sides and you worry that he's trying to repress the urge to beat the shit out of you.

Your heart hammers in your chest as your brain buzzes with anxiety and trepidation. You don't know what to do or say now that he's in such close proximity to you, his intimidating presence crushing all sense of security and confidence from you, leaving not even a modicum of courage in its wake.

Even though your mouth is dry and your throat feels like sandpaper, you speak impulsively before even thinking. "I didn't--"

"Think ya can just do whatever the hell you want?" He snaps, taking a step in your direction. "Steal from hard workin' folk and mess up their lives?"

"No!" You shake your head vehemently and shuffle blindly around the bedframe, not daring to take your eyes off of him. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean--"

Joel snorts derisively and takes another step closer; his footfall is slow and heavy, like he's unhurried to close the gap between you. "Didn't mean to rob me? Didn't meant to steal my money and fuck off?"

"I'll pay you back!" You blurt out in panic.

"Damn right you will," he snipes back. "Every fuckin' cent of it."

You swallow thickly and nod. "O-okay, so, I already spent some to get this room - but only for one night, I swear!" The explanation tumbles from your mouth. "But I can give you the rest now, and I promise I will pay you back!"

Joel's eyes narrow and you see his jaw tick once. "When?" He asks flatly. You stare at him and chew your bottom lip for a moment in deliberation. You already spent your weeks wage on rent and bills, leaving you with about ten dollars to your name until next week.

Shit.

"I, uhm, I get paid next Friday," you mumble sheepishly. "I can get you the money then."

He sighs, a heavy exhalation of frustration from his nose. He shakes his head and puts his hands on his hips. "'S too late."

"Please, please give me this one chance," you beseech, clasping your hands in front of you, your eyes wide and pleading. "Just give me until then."

"How much? How much did you use for this room?" Joel demands. You pause, trying to remember the nightly rate the concierge charged as well as mentally calculate the added room service.

"Uhm, I-I think it's a-a-bout $350," you stutter nervously. He huffs an exasperated sigh and runs his hand over the bottom half of his face. Seeing the man you swindled look so frustrated makes you feel embarrassed and childlike. "I'm sorry..." you mumble, ashamed of your greed.

"Here's what's gonna happen," Joel tells you sternly. "I'm gonna take back what you stole from me now, and you're gonna pay me that $350 back come Friday. No more excuses, you hear?"

"Yes, ofcourse," you agree earnestly, "I'll pay back every cent, like you said."

You glance over to the purse on the nightstand Joel stares at you in comtemplative silence, his jaw ticking as he assesses the situation.

"You do this often?" Joel asks after a few beats, his voice considerably more softer than before. It seems like he's gradually calming down. "That little slick act, battin' your eyes while you're stealin' from a man."

"No," you reply meekly, dropping your eyes to the floor. "I don't. I'm sorry. I'm just...I'm struggling with money right now...I was desperate."

A tense silence falls upon the room after your shameful admission. You hope he's taking pity upon you, that he can see just how apologetic you really are. But when your gaze shifts from the ground back up to Joel, you can immediately ascertain that sympathy for your circumstances is the last thing on his mind.

Joel remains where he stands, as still as a statue, but there's an unsettling intensity swirling within his chocolate brown orbs as he stares you down. The wrath which had consumed him is no longer reflected in his gaze; it has been replaced by something more sinister - something hungry, predatory. It sends a shiver up your spine.

Suddenly you feel incredibly self conscious; although you are covered by the plush terrytowel robe you feel naked and on display infront of him. You clutch the collar of your robe closed and clear your throat.

"Maybe you can show me just how desperate you are for that money," Joel muses darkly.

Your blood runs cold at the insinuation.

You've got to get out of here as fast as you can.

When he takes another step in your direction, you don't hesitate to launch yourself toward the bathroom to escape. He's swift to follow you, though; he sprints after you and crashes his shoulder against the bathroom door, flinging it wide open, leaving you trapped and with no where to run from him.

Joel might be really fucking angry at your audacity to steal from him, but there is something else bubbling within the scorching heat of his wrath that is far more wicked. It hit him the second you opened the door and gawped at him with wide, scared eyes and a trembling bottom lip. It intensified the longer he watched you flounder and apologise, so helpless and desperate for his understanding, and he found he could not ignore it for long. You look even more pretty than he recalled, especially when you are just wearing that hotel bathrobe.

What had started as a simmering in Joel's loins has escalated into a depraved and maddening state of arousal that has his cock now rock hard in his jeans. Seeing you plead and admit to your recklessness particularly excited him, perhaps because he saw it as an acquiescence to punishment. And Joel was more than happy to dole out punishment - whether you consented to it or not.

He cannot describe the victorious surge of power that overcomes him when he successfully captures you in his grasp. He grips a hunk of hair at the top of your head to keep you still, and you grimace as your scalp stings with the tight pull. His mouth sets into a grim line of determination while his other hand clumsily rips the bathrobe from your body. You shriek and bat at him with curled fists, putting up as much of a fight as you possibly can, but it makes no impact upon him at all - you are so small and weak in comparison to his tall, burly frame.

"Fuck sake," Joel snaps irritably. "Quit fightin' me." He throws the robe to the ground, leaving your naked body trembling with fear before him. He doesn't stop to touch you or even look at you - he just manhandles you over to the sink and shoves your body around to face the mirror. "Hold still."

He pins your hips against the edge of the sink with his own, the action causing your bones to press painfully into the cool marble surface. His iron grip on your hair forces your neck upright so that your face is directly infront of the mirror. You can feel the rough denim of his jeans on the backs of your thighs and the metal of his belt buckle on your ass.

"How about you show me some more of your little tricks," grunts, his low voice gravelly and slightly breathless. "How's that sound?"

"P-p-please don't," you sob, your vision blurring with warm tears. He ignores you, using the side of his boot to kick at your foot and spread your legs apart. You feel his hand jostle behind you as he hurries to unbuckle his belt.

"You want cash so bad?" Joel taunts in your ear, hastily unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. "You can earn it. "

He yanks his jeans and underwear down his meaty thighs, freeing his heavy balls and erect cock out of the confines of his underwear, the head already wet with precum. He uses his grip on your hair to roughly push the front of your upper body flat to the bathroom vanity. Your face smushes uncomfortably against the mirror.

"Arch your ass out, bitch." Joel jabs his elbow into the middle of your spine, forcing your hips to involuntarily tilt. "Let me see that fuckin' ass."

His other hand grabs your asscheek and he digs his blunt fingernails into the meat of your flesh, earning a pathetic whine from you. He pulls your cheek to the side to expose your asshole to his perverted gaze before letting out a hungry groan. "Pretty little hole you got there, honey."

He was planning on just fucking your pussy, but holy shit, seeing you spread like this is so tantalising, like your ass is just waiting to be split wide open.

He can't resist.

Joel spits a warm wad of saliva onto your asscrack and watches it slide down to your asshole. Your body jolts at the weird sensation, your limbs vibrating with fear, but Joel's steel grip of your hair keeps you restrained against the vanity.

He uses the fat pads of his two fingers to smear the glob of spit over your hole. He's decided to be generous tonight, giving you a little preparation so you won't pass out on his dick. Yeah, he wants to punish you, but he also doesn't want the goddamn concierge busting down the door because you're screaming in pain.

His fingertips prod at your ring with the clear intention of opening you up, and that's when you start to cry harder, warbling pleas for him to stop and to not to go any further. Joel smirks to himself and pays no heed to your words; he sinks his two fingers into your hole, all the way to his middle knuckles, and you wail at the sharp discomfort.

"Shut up," Joel orders, beginning to scissor his fingers in and out of you. He stares down at his minstrations while you weep pitifully. He's mesmerised by the way your hole clenches and unclenches around his digits, imaginging how perfect you would feel around his cock, squeezing him just right. He keeps fingering you for a little longer until his desire becomes too ravenous to put off any longer.

Joel withdraws his fingers from you, briefly admiring the way you clench around nothing. He takes hold of the head of his cock and jams it against the puckered ring of your asshole, ready to push inside.  You start to screech and bash your legs against the vanity in distressed protest, but Joel is quick to subdue you. He crushes his knees into the backs of your thighs, his burly frame easily constraining your lower half.

"Better for both of us if you stop strugglin'," he growls. "Gonna hurt a hell of'a alot more if you don't."

He doesn't waste any longer. He drives his hips forward and forcefully jabs the tip of his fat dick through the first tight ring of your asshole. Your cries suddenly cease as the burning pain engulfs you, your eyes squeezing shut and your mouth falling open in a silent scream. The room fills with the sound of Joel's heavy breathing and the jangle of his belt buckle. He ruts into you, gradually feeding his thick length further inside your ass with shallow, stuttering bursts.

"That's it," Joel croons, voice slurring with lust. "Take it, baby, just take it."

Satisfied that you're now in a state of paralysed submission, he releases his hand from your hair and siezes the cheeks of your ass in both his meaty palms. He spreads them wide and tilts his chin down to watch your defilement, hypnotised by the sight of his cock slowly spearing your tight hole.

Joel eventually slides all the way inside you, his pubic bone flush with the globes of your ass and his heavy balls pressed against the lips of your neglected pussy. He moans brokenly as he revels in the snug warmth enveloping the entirety of his dick.

"Goddamn," he mumbles to himself. "So tight."

Joel retracts his hips until he's pulled almost all the way out of your asshole, then he plunges back inside in one smooth stroke. You expel a guttural howl and grip the edge of the sink so tight your fingertips turn white, your whole body quivering below him.

"Actin' like you ain't never been assfucked before," Joel groans out. He withdraws once more, but this time he slams back into your body with a mighty thrust that forces you to rise up to your tiptoes. He takes pleasure in the ragged scream that rips from your throat and the way your hole contracts around his dick.

"N-n-no," you manage to choke out, your throat thick with unshed tears and mucus. Joel slides his large calloused hands around the curve of your hips to hold you in place before repeating the action again. You bawl again and reach a shaky arm behind you to push against his belly, a futile attempt to get him to stop.

"Don't tell me a slut like you ain't had a dick up her ass," he spits down at you. "Bet that's exactly how you earn your money. When you ain't stealin' it.'

It is impossible for you to muster a response when Joel begins to cant his hips in long strokes, gradually busting you open. The momentum of his broad body keeps your face shoved close against the mirror, the glass fogging with every loud, agonised sob you emit. His balls smack lewdly against your skin with each thrust.

Your body goes slack against the vanity counter as Joel continues to violate you over and over. He's lost in the animalistic pursuit of his pleasure and your punishment, his hefty cock barrelling in and out of your tight asshole with a merciless rhythm. His fingers squeeze your hips in a bruising hold. You feel so good wrapped around him, too fragile to fight back.

"Thought about fuckin' ya," Joel admits inbetween heavy pants. "At the casino. Wanted to fuck you so bad when I first saw ya."

You weep pathetically, lungs aching with every battered breath you inhale, your body going more slack and weak the longer Joel indulges in your suffering. He is so big, bigger than any other man you've ever been with, and there is no way you could adjust to his girth so suddenly, especially in your ass.

"Maybe I shoulda just slipped you a twenty. Bet that woulda had you droppin' your panties right then and there."

Saliva pools in your mouth and drips out the corners of your lips as your mind starts to detach from your physical body.

"Wreckin' ya good, ain't that right, baby?" Joel moans. "Fillin' you up so good, ain't gonna be able to walk for days."

He continues fucking you with a possessed, primal rapacity. He can't remember the last time he fucked with such reckless abandon - maybe never - and he knows he won't last long. He's too drunk on the domination he holds over you to delay his orgasm any longer.

"Gonna ruin this slutty asshole. Have you leakin' everywhere."

Joel pistons into you harder and faster as he chases his orgasm. His heart beat pounds in his ears and he can no longer hear your cries when his escasty soon reaches a fever pitch. It hits him with a blinding intensity that he wasn't prepared for; his head back falls back and his eyes squeeze shut as he explodes inside your ass.

"Fuck," he grunts and huffs like a beast. "Fuck, take it, ya little whore, take it all."

You whimper as he slows down his movements to a rocking motion, sawing back and forth to let your asshole milk the cum from his cock. When he's finished, Joel slips his softening cock out of you, coaxing a vulgar squelching sound from your hole.

He staggers backward, his gait slightly off balance as he comes down from the high of his orgasm. His chest heaves as he stares at your naked ravaged body sprawled infront of him. Your legs tremble for a moment before you collapse onto the bathroom floor, unable to remain standing without Joel's strength pinning you. You hug your arms around your shaking body and curl up on the ground, tears and snot spilling down your face.

Joel watches you wordlessly. He wipes his hand down his sweaty face and sighs. He doesn't feel remorse - why should he? You ripped him off. You stole money he needs for his business, for his house, for his daughter. You deserved this.

You don't dare look at him while he hitches up his underwear and jeans. All you want is for this nightmare of a man to finally leave you alone to lick your wounds. He tucks himself back in and belts up while you dig your fingernails into your arms, deep enough to draw blood.

You hear the heavy footfalls of his boots as he swaggers out of the bathroom. He crosses to the nightstand and retrieves the wad of cash from your purse. He stops to study your ID card, noting your age and your name. Fuck, you're younger than he thought. He scans over your address. And you live in a shitty part of town. Maybe you really were desperate. He flicks through the bills of money and counts, making sure the $4,650 is still there, then stuffs it in his pocket.

Joel walks back to the bathroom but doesn't enter, instead lingering outside, not bothering to give you another look. "Forget the three fifty," he calls from the doorway, his voice gruff. "You earned it."

It goes quiet for a few moments, then you hear the front door unlock and open. It shuts with a resounding thud and your wish to be alone is granted.

tags - @romana-after-dark @romanarose

[mannaima]

My Best Friend Joel (part three)

Sorry for making you all wait so long! I decided this is the second to last installment in the best friend series, the last one being much longer as it’s gonna cover a longer timeline. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy it!!!!

(part 1) (part 2)

Summary: Joel decides to hide the fact you’re pregnant, until he can’t anymore.

Word count: 2.5K (yes short i know)

Warnings: NSFW (p in v), dub-con turned consensual, breeding, joel being a scumbag, pregnancy, babytrapping(????)(small) mentions of vomit, manipulation, happy endings tho.

Joel didn’t get much sleep that night. Not like he did anyways, but his thoughts tonight were clouded with ideas of what to do about this predicament. But one thought made him shiver with guilt.

He wanted to leave.

Joel felt immense guilt with the thought, sure, he knew he was far from a good man, but even that was a low for him. But his stomach swelled in pain at the thought of another child, he couldn’t even think of children ever since Sarah. But the act was already done, there was no denying that you would be pregnant, although there's a chance you might, he had to think of the worst here. He tossed and turned, trying not to wake you, but he clenched his eyes at every possible way of this working out. You were none the wiser, sleeping so soundly, as if your body wasn’t currently in the stage of making the new child you two shared. Joel sighed, and as the morning sun crept through the windows, he had only one thought on his mind.

He just wasn’t gonna tell you.

----------

You woke up, eyes adjusting to the room filled with light, and your best friend held you in his large arms. You noticed he was already awake, eyes half shut in tiredness, and he had bags under his eyes. You tilted your head.

“Good morning Joel!” You were excited, he only glanced at you, not even a usual smirk. “Are you okay? Did you get any sleep?” You were much quieter, fearing he wasn’t in a good mood.

“Morning, sugar, I slept fine.” Lie. “Just a little tired.” Lie. Lie. Lie.

“Oh, okay.” You snuggled closer to him, head resting against his warm body, he seemed to tense around you a little. Internally, you felt the awkwardness. You were hurt, but you kept quiet.

“Do you want me to make you breakfast?” You gave him a small smile, and he glanced at you before staring at the wall once more.

“That’d be nice.” Blunt answer, but a much better answer than ‘no’. You giggled and pushed the blankets back, sitting up and climbing over Joel, making sure not to accidentally crush his arms with your knees. You stood up, and immediately felt a feeling of something droop out of your pussy. Confused, you stood still, but then the memories of last night flooded back, which made you grin a little. You walked to the kitchen, unaware of how Joel stared at you, your pretty ass out on display, only a cute pair of panties covering your lower half. Aided with morning wood, Joel’s cock became incredibly hard, despite his brain shunning him for still feeling horny knowing he knocked you up.

“Do ya want french toast?” He looked at your face now, eyes moving up from your ass. You looked so pretty in nothing but a shirt. Joel nodded. You turned back around to fix the breakfast. 

Joel felt so conflicted, on one hand, it was bound to happen eventually, he was going to meet another woman, the right one this time. Though it was a new kid, it would never replace Sarah, and the child wasn’t meant to. On the other hand, he felt immense fear that something would happen to the child. This world was no place for youth, the child would never be normal growing up in a world like this, but what choice did he have? The baby was gonna come regardless, would he rather the child to a loving mother and father, or to a single mother out on the streets.

He had to deal with it.

He stood up, wearing nothing but boxers, making him shiver at the cold air. He walked over to you, and wrapped his hands around your body, his back hunched over so he could rest his head on your shoulder. His cock was pressed up against your back, but he didn’t care, he just wanted to feel your warm body.

“Oh Joel…” There was a hint of sadness in your voice, but he had no clue why. Despite his brain begging him to ask you what’s wrong, he just buried his face in your neck, giving you small kisses.

You felt his cock, it made your lower regions warm up, fluttering almost. You continued to make the batter and heat up the stove, Joel clinging to you tightly. His hardness not going down, you felt distracted, accidentally spilling a small amount of batter. You kept apologizing but Joel just rubbed your hips with his rough hands, you jumped at his cold hands against your cold skin as he reached under your shirt.

“You cold baby?” His hands rubbed around your stomach before slowly leading up to your breasts, where he squeezed them tightly. You whimpered and stuttered before nodding your head, to which he began pinching your nipples.

“I think I’m hungry for something else right now, sweetie.” Joel began to kiss your neck, his tongue licking up it slowly, you let out a soft moan, making him smirk upon your skin. 

“D-Do you wanna have… S-Sex?”

“I think I made it pretty clear I do.”

“R-Right. Sorry.” You felt stupid for asking, wondering if it made you look stupid to him. He either didn’t care or was too horny to care, because he kept rubbing his cock against your back while kissing your neck, the breakfast long forgotten at this point. You arched your back at his touch, feeling so sensitive from the night before, your pussy fluttering at his hands. He finally removed his hands from your chest and brought them down to your lower half, his fingers poking under the fabric in order to pull them down, and he slowly brought them down. You felt the cold air, but he didn’t wait much longer before wrapping an arm around your body while also pushing your front half against the counter, making you bend over for him. You gasped at the sudden movement, but it was short-lived as his cock was now rubbing against your entrance.

“W-wait Joel-” A loud moan escaped your lips as his cock was now pushing through, your only source of lube was his cum from the night before and the small amount of wetness you had. You weren’t at all prepared for him, but he didn’t care and kept pushing.

“J-Joel. Hurts-” He kept pushing, making you groan out in pain, his hand coming up to your lips.

“Shhhh.” No words of reassurance, just shushing you to make you stop whimpering in pain. You couldn’t help it though, your walls were being stretched to their limit by his fat cock, and he wasn’t even inside you all the way yet. You kept trying to squirm out of his hold, but his grip on you was too strong, and he finally pushed you against his body, his entire cock inside you now. You groaned out, loudly, making him pull his cock back, and slam into you once more. The kindness he showed you last night was no more, as he continued to mercilessly ram inside you. You felt your face heat up as your lower half experienced immense pain, you didn’t know what to do. He just felt so much bigger than before, maybe you were doing something wrong? It hurt the first time too, but he stopped a while for you to get used to it, but he just kept abusing your hole.

“Joel please.” You pleaded for him to slow down, and he did, for a second. He slipped his cock out of you and turned you around, now facing him. Your back was pushed against the counter as he lifted you there, bottom half hanging off. You got a few seconds of relief before his cock was pushed back into you, head leaning back as you whimpered. His hands held on to your hips as he fucked you again and again. Joel forced your legs to wrap around his waist, effectively allowing him to thrust into you better. You felt the pain slowly go away, but far too slow for your liking. Joel’s groans mixed with your moans of pain and slight pleasure, his hands rubbing against your warm skin, eyes fixated on your body.

You got a good look at him in the sunlight peeking through the curtains, now able to see his body. Peppered hair covered his chest, not too much hair though. His body was definitely toned, especially for his age, and his chest glistened with small amounts of sweat. His face stared down at you with an incredible amount of enamoration, eyes boring into yours, his mouth parted slightly to let out breaths. You looked down his body to see the way his cock disappeared into your cunt, it was arousing to say the least. The mess of hair that covered right above his cock and the way his happy trail led down from his belly button. You couldn’t get enough of his body, and it seems he felt the same about you.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, angel.” He said, deep voiced slightly strained as he continued to fuck you.

“You too J-” You were cut off by the movement of his hands around your ankles. He lifted your legs up and positioned them on his shoulders, allowing him much deeper access in your pussy. Your breathy moans pushed him over the edge, he couldn’t get enough of the way your bare breasts bounced around, or the look you gave with your eyebrows arched in pleasure, lips wet with saliva as you gave into the pleasure. He couldn’t handle it anymore, his head reeling back as he gave a few more sloppy thrusts and groaned, cumming inside of you. You felt the warm cum seep inside you, Joel letting out small ‘fuck’s and ‘goddamn’s. After about twenty seconds of pure bliss on Joel’s end, he finally pulled out of you, cock soft now, and a large clump of his cum dripping out of you. Joel quickly plunged his middle and ring finger inside you, pushing the cum back inside you. He fingered you, his hand pushing the hair away from your forehead and kissing it, making you smile through the pleasure of his fingers. He smiled back.

----------

You had stayed with Joel, your relationship was never really defined, but it was safe to say you two were a couple. Joel would obviously leave to go to work, which is something you were accustomed to. But Joel left you the privilege of leaving the apartment whenever you wanted, but you preferred when Joel was by your side. You spent the days watching the people, reading books, and even drawing pictures while Joel was away.

When Joel came back, you both liked to do “adult stuff.”

He fucked you every day after work or before you both slept. He couldn’t get enough of you, every time he saw you, he had this uncontrollable urge to just fuck the shit out of you.

And every single time, he came inside you.

He felt guilty, of course, but not guilty enough to tell you what happens when a man cums inside a woman. No, he figured he could delay it until there were physical changes, he liked you this way. It was sick of him, he knew he was a bastard for what he was doing, but he liked seeing your fucked out face while cum drooled out of your pussy. He liked you not knowing that you were going to be carrying his babies, of course he’d tell you when you’d eventually noticed the weight gain, lack of period, and giant stomach. But Joel wanted to see how long you could stay oblivious.

----------

“Joel, do I look… Fatter to you?” There you stood, in front of the mirror, wearing nothing but a pair of panties. You had turned to the side and were staring at your stomach.

“What do ya’ mean?” Joel knew exactly what you meant.

“I just look… More round. Just my stomach though.” You felt around your stomach, squeezing it a little.

“But it’s not soft like fat. It’s kind of hard?” You knocked on it jokingly, giggling slightly.

“I don’t see a difference, baby.” It was easy for him to lie, he avoided your eye contact though. 

“Oh well, I’m probably just seeing things.” You went on your tippy toes and puckered out your lips, signaling him to kiss you, which he did.

He watched you walk into the kitchen, still topless, and pull out some rations. He couldn’t help but notice how big your breasts have gotten, wondering how you didn’t notice. He wanted to suck on them, hoping milk would come out already. Fantasizing about your body, you quickly snapped him out of his little world as he noticed you running to the sink.

“Oh fuck-” You had little time before you started vomiting in the sink, coughing in between gags. Fuck. Joel’s mind raced, this was getting too far, he had to tell you. You let out the contents in your stomach while Joel just watched, but his dumb brain finally realized he should be helping you. Scrambling to run to you, he held your hair back as you continued. He reassured you that you were fine, that it was just some morning sickness. As you finally felt better and washed your mouth and the sink, Joel felt a small amount of guilt now that he saw your sick face. Fuck. He had to tell you now.

“Darling there's something we need to talk about. Come with me.” He led you to the bedroom and sat you next to him, hand gripping yours tightly.

“What is it Joel?” He sighed, and rubbed your hand with his fingers.

“Well. The reason your stomach is a bit bigger, and why you have some sickness is because. You’re pregnant. You’re gonna be a momma.” You stared at him, confusion plastered on your face, head slightly tilted.

“How?” Joel sighed again, now realizing you were gonna be upset with him.

“When we have sex. When a man cums inside a woman, the white stuff that comes out of me, it makes a baby when it mixes with your parts.” Your eyes widened a bit. You touched your stomach.

“So… You were making babies with me?” Joel nodded, half expecting you to hit or scream at him. But you just kept touching your small baby bump.

“So you mean. I’m gonna be a mommy? And, are you the daddy?” There was a small glimmer in your eyes as you started to grow a smile.

“Yes baby.” Joel gave you a small smile before being pushed down by you, face smushed up against his own. You kept giving him sloppy kisses, laughing in between smooches. Joel didn’t know you’d be this happy, he thought you’d be upset with unknowingly getting pregnant, but he let that thought linger as he kept his hands on your hips, kissing you back with a breathy laugh.

You two were going to be parents. 

taglist:  @avengersfan25  @sloanexx​  @flowercrowns-goodvibes​  @aerangi​  @st4rb0y27 !! inbox me to join/remove from the taglist!!!

[lunitawrites]

Both Sides of the Moon - part one

pairing: biker!joel miller x fem!reader rating: explicit word count: 2.8k summary: After a troubled childhood you move back to your hometown. You are trying to avoid facing the dark past of your family, but you realize it will be harder than you thought when a mysterious stranger appears in town trying to take revenge. TWs: no-outbreak AU, age gap (reader mid-twenties, Joel is late forties), loss of parents, reference to sex work, reference to foster homes, guns, knife, alcohol consumption, cigarettes, Joel being violent towards reader, petnames, reader has hair long enough that it can be grabbed, otherwise no physical description, no use of y/n a/n: hey! so this is my first attempt at writing, I really hope some of you out there will like it. I am eternally grateful to @papipascalispunk who reviewed and edited my work. Thanks a million to @toxicanonymity and @hier--soir for their suggestions! Shoutout to the other Joel Millers on bikes: a minute from home by @agentmarcuspike, jailbird by @toxicanonymity and little mouse by @katiexpunk & @josephquinnswhore masterlist

You are fidgeting with your nametag in front of the mirror, trying to apply it to your uniform, but you must have bent the needle when you removed it last time because it won't stay up now.

“Don’t worry about it darlin’,” you hear Arlene shout from the kitchen, “It's a small town, everyone knows you by now.”

“I suppose they do,” you mumble and drop the pin to the dresser. She's always been nice to you, almost mothering you, since you started working together in the diner. You take one last look in the mirror, smoothing out your uniform and walking through the kitchen to start your 7 PM shift.

It's a slow start. The townsfolk don't start coming until the sun paints the sky purple and orange, until the dust strats to settle and the cicadas’ song fills up the night. Your shift begins at the bar; whiskey, beer, salted peanuts, a smile or two for better tips. The bar fills up with a subtle buzz, stench of alcohol and anticipation.

Later on in the evening, Sam asks you to wait tables instead. You usually prefer staying behind the bar, but it's Friday night, the dining area will get busy soon. Arlene will need the extra pair of hands taking the orders anyway, so you pick up your notepad and pen and head out to the floor. 

You are always cautious out here, you have to be. The men are not violent, but they always try to take what they think they deserve. A brush of a knuckle on your thighs, eyes lingering on the swell of your breasts, an inappropriate comment disguised as a compliment, fingertips on the curve of your hips as they pass by. Sam, your boss, always makes sure that it’s not more, keeping an eye on you at all times from behind the bar. Sam is one of the few people who knows about your past, who knows that there were times when you were giving a lot more than a smile for some crinkled up bills, who knows that just a few months ago, your uniform was nothing more than a pair of thigh highs and your underwear.

—

You were six when your dad died, and you moved away with your mom right after. You stayed with her for another few months until they diagnosed her. She passed away before the next Christmas. By January, you were in your first foster home. After you got out from your last foster home with nothing more than a few pairs of clothes and the fifty dollar bill that you stole from your foster dad's wallet, you really didn’t see another option for survival. 

It started at a gentlemen's club called Red Rose, just outside of Austin, all neon lights and kitsch, velvet and satin from a decade before. They gave you a room in the motel next to it, but only if you worked the after hours shift, so you agreed. You didn't know what after hours meant at the time, but you would have agreed to almost anything if it meant that you would spend the night in a bed and not somewhere outside.

The after hours, you learned quickly, meant selling your body to anyone who took interest in it during the opening hours of the club. So while you did spend your night in a bed, it was with a truck driver named Dylan, who paid you hundred dollars for an hour of you being a good girl, as he described. Forty of those dollars covered the motel bill and twenty went to the club manager for organizing the deal.

You spent six years working at Red Rose, eventually saving up enough money so you didn't have to stay at the motel. You rented a flat with black mold and sticky linoleum floors, sharing it with three of the other girls from the club. You were driving an old Chevy that one of the girls passed onto you after she moved up north. Six years of Dylans and Bobs and Johns and Joses and Miguels. Six years of sweat and spit and bruises and slaps and come, until you couldn't anymore. 

You moved back to your hometown, although it was never really your home, and while you knew little about the circumstances of your father’s death, you were still afraid to come back, terrified to face the past. But as it turned out, you never had to, as if there was some silent agreement amongst the town that they never spoke of your family. No one gossipped, or if they did, they did so silently that it never reached your ears. They welcomed you into town as if you were a stranger. 

You moved into your old family home at the edge of town. White paint chipped from wooden boards, almost two decades of dust and sorrow covering every inch. You slowly made it your own home, settling into the master bedroom that was once your parents’, but leaving every other room untouched. You have not dared to open the door of your old bedroom yet. 

You still drove the old Chevy when you started working at Sam’s six nights a week, the only diner in town, serving the majority of the people who lived there.

—

It's Friday, which means a good crowd and better tips. Friday means an extra drink for everyone to celebrate yet another week survived in this dusty town in south Texas, just above the border. So you move among the tables with a smile so wide that your face starts to hurt.

It's almost eleven now and most of the tables are occupied; workers for their well-deserved after work drink, youngsters pregaming before driving up to Austin for a night out, some couples leaning over their drinks to be closer to one another, families finishing up their meals, greasy hands stopping you to order another basket of fries. The buzz is loud now, the air in the diner thick and heavy with alcohol and laughter. A usual Friday at Sam’s, until it isn’t.

The door squeaks open, heavy footsteps on the floor, broad shoulders in the doorframe. You really shouldn't be able to hear it over the sound of Friday in the diner, but you do. You lock eyes with deep amber, a pair of sad eyes, searching for a place to sit. Strong arms hidden under a black leather jacket, dark wash jeans, disheveled brown curls, almost halo-like, lit by the street lights behind him. The diner seems to catch up with you, surprised faces turning to the direction of the door, sentences left unfinished, whispers let out, cheeks turned red in surprise, Adam’s apples bobbing up and down. Is it? It can’t be. The sounds of Friday fun turn into whispers, and whispers turn to silence. Fear creeps up in your spine, something primal, something unexplainable.

He walks up to an empty table, heavy boots on sticky floor are the only sound now. The squeal of a chair, denim rubbing against the fake leather of the booth, fingers tapping on the tabletop, an impatient sigh. You move your feet from where they were rooted to the ground just a minute ago. Sweaty hands flipping paper on the notepad. You clear your throat before closing up the space between you and his table.

“What can I get you?”, your voice comes out raspy, almost scared. He looks up at you, a faint smile on his face, eyes not quite meeting yours. Instead, he looks at your lips, gaze burning on your skin, you press your lips together, as if you could hide them entirely. Your eyes flick over to the bar, searching for another pair of brown eyes, searching for comfort. But comfort is not what you find, Sam looks back at you with a wild gaze, almost panic in his eyes.

“Whiskey, neat,” the stranger says, now looking at his hands on the table.

“Coming right up!”, you answer with fake cheerfulness in your voice. Legs heavy as you move, “A whiskey, neat,” you say when you reach the bar, waiting for Sam to prepare the drink. You understand that the questions are not for now, the questions are for later. The people slowly turn their attention back to the drinks in front of them, conversations starting again. But still, the air stays as if it was frozen the minute the stranger came in, Friday never has been so quiet at Sam’s diner..

“There you go”, you say as you place the glass in front of him, voice heavy with the accent you thought you never had.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says, not looking up at you this time.

Time feels slow, dragging on every minute, every second of the night. You cannot take being inside anymore. You feel like you are going to suffocate.

“I am going on my break,” you say quickly and don’t wait for anyone to acknowledge, just disappear through the kitchen. 

The muggy evening air hugs your skin as you open the back door of the diner. Being outside is just as suffocating as being inside, but at least it's quieter. You take a cigarette out from the crumpled package in your apron, place it between your lips but don't light it just yet. You should quit. You exhale sharply and put the cigarette back. Istead, you lean your head back to the wall, looking up at the moon. She's in her full glory tonight, casting pale light to the dark forest in front of you.

You are not sure what happened inside. This man who you are sure you have never seen in your life just woke up something deep inside you. You feel like you are drawn to him by a strange force, a force that is so foreign to you. There was a certain kind of sadness in his eyes that you only see when you look into the reflection of your own eyes. Grief. Lost. Denial. Something that balances between madness and sanity. 

You hear the front door open with a squeaking sound. Footsteps, drunk laughter and heavy drawls take over the silence of your break. You are about to go inside when you hear an intoxicated voice call out:

“Where do you think you’re goin´?” the drunk man shouts. “You think you can just walk in here and have a drink like the rest of us? Like you fuckin’ belong here.” he spits. The rest of the men stop talking. Now he is the only voice. “Let me tell you. You don´t. You should not come around anymore. You are not welcome here and you should know that.”

“So what happens if I do  come around?” the stranger's voice is laced with coldness. You slowly start walking to the front. You need to see him again. You need to understand what's happening. You feel yourself shaking, despite the warm humidity of the night. 'You should just stay out of it,' the voice in your head says, but you keep walking.

You peek around the corner of the diner. There he is with six men from the town. They all seem fairly drunk. They seem like they are looking for trouble.

“Well, if you are so fuckin´ sure you gonna come around,” he drawls “we might as well just give you a taste of what we are plannin´ to do with you. Right, boys?” he laughs and the men laugh with him, like a pack of coyotes. They all sound way too drunk to do any real harm, but there are six of them against him.

“Try me” the stranger grits through his teeth. He doesn't seem to be afraid, he seems like he would not care if he lives or dies. He seems like someone who gave up a long time ago.

“That ’s enough!” You shout and start walking up to the crowd. ”Go home or I will call Sam out and we will see who won’t be allowed to come around here anymore”. The loudest one flashes you a drunk grin and says: “That is just fuckin’ hilarious. You wanna protect him?” he asks.

“I am not protecting anyone, it’s my job to keep this place running. So I am doing just exactly that.” you say putting your hands on your waist. “Now, gentlemen, I would appreciate, if you all went home and cared about your wives and kids just as much as you care about your liquor. I reckon you had enough fun for tonight. Go! All of you!” you order them.

You are surprised to see that they do. It might be the mention of their wives and the reminder of how they would react if they saw them coming home drunk and all beaten up. The loudest one turns back for a second and addresses you. “You don’t know what you are doing.”

“I guess not.” you whisper and turn your head to the stranger.

“You didn't need to, darlin’. I can defend myself,” he says, drawl thick as the night above you. 

“Mhm, you seem like the type who can,” you say with a half smile. He laughs at that, but there is no humor in it. It should not be possible for a laugh to sound that sad.

“You new around here?”, he takes a step forward, cornering you to the wall. His eyes are searching for the name tag on your uniform. As he cannot find anything his eyes flick back to your face again. His gaze lights something up in you, deep inside your stomach. Frozen flames licking your insides. You are terrified of it, you are terrified of him.

“You can say that, moved back recently. And you? It seems like everyone knows you around here.” you say, heart pounding in your throat. 

“Wasn't hard to sense that, was it?”, you can feel his breath on your skin. Whiskey, burning on your cheeks.

“No,” you say, casting down your eyes. Somehow his proximity makes you restless. His presence makes the blood rush faster in your body. Your reaction is almost instinctual, you want to rip his flash and sink your teeth into him. To be closer or to get away. You are not sure.

He must sense it, a sly smile across his lips. He lifts his hand, hovers his knuckles over your cheeks tentatively. You are red burning fire. He brushes his knuckles over your left cheek, your chin, the curve of your neck. He rests his palm on your shoulder at last.

“You are shaking,” he murmurs. He takes his hand away. It's almost like you couldn't breathe while he touched you. Lungs filling up with air again. You lock eyes with him. “So what's your..,” he starts but cannot finish, Arlene opens the back door and calls your name. 

“Everything okay here?”, she asks.

His eyes darken. Amber turns black. “It's you,” he says, “I should have fuckin’ known.” One hand grabbing your hair, the other turning you around. Rough denim scratching the back of your thighs as he pushes you up to the wall. Head knocking on wood, you feel dizzy. You hear Arlene’s muffled scream, the door opening again. Cold steel pressed into your throat, you taste your death. “I couldn't have planned this better, could I?”, he whispers into your ear.

“Who the fuck are you? What do you want from me?”, you spit, fear blinding you as you try to grab a hold of him behind you.

“You don't know who I am? That's good. That´s just fuckin’ good”, he laughs, blood freezing in your veins from the sound of it.

You hear footsteps, Arlene’s breathy cry in the background. Boots then. Heavier than she could be. 

“Joel Miller,” Sam says with venom in his voice, “Leave her the fuck alone!”

His gun is pointing to Joel’s temple. Sam takes a step closer, “Get out of here. Right fuckin’ now.” Joel slowly releases the handful of hair he still has in his fist. As he does, a bitter smile spreads on his face.

“Another time then,” he murmurs, low enough that only you can hear. He steps back, walks slowly to the parking lot where he swings his leg over a 1990 Harley-Davidson, the exact same model that is in your father's garage. 

You look at Sam, eyes blurred with tears and confusion.You are certain of one thing, and one thing only. Joel Miller wants to kill you.

—

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are much appreciated. Please let me know if you'd like to be on the tag list for the next parts!

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Tear You Apart Part 2: Don’t Run From Me, Stay✨

Series Masterlist

A/N: I love this series so much and can’t believe this is the end to their beautiful story 🥹 Thank you to @alltheirdamn for beta reading and @mountainsandmayhem and @littlevenicebitch69 for letting me scream about this with them 🥰 I love this story more than words can express 🥹

Summary: Joel’s scared to lose you, but he’s more afraid that he’ll hurt you. So he runs far from you, until you follow after him into the dark forest.

Pairing: Outbreak! Joel x fem! reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Rating: Explicit 18+ only MDNI

Tags: Jackson era, outbreak au, Little Red Riding Hood references, lots of angst, feelings, mild choking scene, confessions, switching povs, dark au, angst with a happy ending, unprotected piv, oral (fem receiving)

“Show me the love you've always wanted. All the love is gone, driven apart by what we all have seen. We're falling over ourselves. How do we mourn what's lost, what never will be? Remember me, remember me as you loved me. Carry the weight of selfless scars we silently crave. Show me your hands and touch the stars with me.”

- “Remember Me” by Currents

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Seven days. It’s been seven miserable days since Joel has come to you in the night. Seven days since he last touched you. Seven days since he caressed your face for the first time, affection etched all over his calloused fingers. Seven days since he let down his brick walls just a little. Seven whole fucking days since he held you in his arms, releasing that caged up wolf as he let you in. 

   He let you in. He let you in. For just those few moments, but it was all you needed to see he wasn’t just sharp teeth and fangs. He was more. He was so much more. He was good, even if he didn’t believe it. 

   You toss and turn in the cool sheets, listening to the repeated ticking noise of the clock on the faded walls. It seems to taunt you as its repetitive ticks fill the void of the room. Tick tick tick. It’s too much to bear, so you throw a cotton pillow over your ears to try to drown out the insufferable noise, but it doesn’t work. It never works. 

   Your body drowns in the sheets, a thin sheen of sweat covering your forehead as you toss and turn again and again and again. You feel as if you’re losing your mind waiting in this vacant room as if Joel will walk in at any second. You groan to yourself, call out his name as if he can hear you calling to him, begging him to come back. Joel, Joel, Joel. Come back. Come back.

   You need him. You need him. Just like you need air to breathe, you’ll surely suffocate without his warm breath blowing in your face. You fucking need him. 

   It’s like the ghosts in the forest hear your cries, their shrouded warnings filled in the night air as their sharp nails drag down your window. They tell you to run, stay away, but you don’t listen. You never listen. 

   After five more agonizing minutes groveling in the silky sheets, you push yourself out of bed and head for the closet. You have to find him, you can’t wait another second not knowing if he’s okay. But you already know. You know he’s not okay. 

   You pull on a pair of tight jeans and slip a black sweater over your head, trying your hardest to clear the voices of the forest in your mind. Stay here, he doesn’t want you to find him, he’ll ruin you. You cover your ears and scream into the cotton of your shirt, telling the voices to just stop shouting. Enough. You can’t take it anymore, take them. You need to see him, you need to know he’s alive and not dead like the voices are screaming. 

   You throw on a pair of brown hiking boots and lace the strings up tight before making your way out of your bedroom door. You have to find him, and if that means going out into the cold, black forest then so be it. You need to get to him, wherever he might be. 

   You descend the stairs, scuffing your boots against the creaky wooden steps as you stomp down. Have to find him, have to find him. Just as you make your way off the last step, the brass doorknob of your front door turns and then the rusting door is slammed open. You jump back in surprise until you see just who stands right in the doorway. 

   Joel. 

   “Joel?” you gasp as you take in his weathered features. His eyes are wild, dark and burdened as his eyebrows knit together tightly. His jaw is clenched, mouth pressed together in a scowl as his blood runs cold. His tousled curls are so messy, the lines on his forehead thick as his stance weakens. His broad shoulders are hunched, chest heaving like he’d just run a marathon out in the cold. But what really stands out is how lost he looks. Cloudy eyes burdened with something that looks a lot like sadness, like he’s been crying out for help. 

   Your mouth parts open as you start to raise your voice. Not in an angry shout, but more of a plea to answer why he’d been gone so long. “Where have you been, Joel? Seven days. It’s been seven fucking days since…”

   He cuts off your words as he storms up to you and pushes you hard against the peeling wall, his large arms caging you in on both sides of your shoulders as his eyes light up with nothing but anger. “I’ve been out,” he growls as he scowls your way, one hand pinning you to the wall as his muscular thighs pin your legs in place. 

   “Out? I thought you were dead!” you scream, tears licking at the corners of your eyes as he just stands there, caging you to him. He just looks at you with dark eyes as they fade to a charcoal black color, no more honeysuckle colored flecks left in those dark pits. 

   He chuckles, a wicked sound pulling from his throat as he scowls at you. “Might as well be,” he mutters under his breath, almost like he doesn’t want you to hear that. All you can do is lock your jaw and pout your bottom lip out to him. 

   “You can’t do that to me. You can’t leave me without telling me where you’re…”

   He interrupts yet again as he screams into your face, his words like knives to your chest. “I can do whatever the hell I want! I don’t owe you a goddamn thing! You don’t fuckin’ need to know where I’m at because you’re not mine,” he growls as he rips into your face, his deep voice carving a long blade into your heart as he splits you in half. 

   Not mine? “Not mine? But you said…”

   He rips the words from your vocal cords as he wraps a hand tightly around your throat and squeezes. You see his eyes turn to black pits, see the tinge of glowing orange as his temper takes hold of him. His grip is so tight that he’s choking you, robbing you of oxygen as he presses your head firmly against the wall. You try to kick your feet, try to bang your hands against his broad chest, but he has you trapped underneath his towering body. You can’t move, can’t think so you use the only thing you have. Your voice. 

   “Joel, stop. You’re hurting me,” you rasp out as you cough and feel your face turn bright red. You see his eyes. Cold, lost, unalive as he squeezes harder and bares his sharp teeth, his soul lost just like his own sanity. It’s like he’s taken his dark form, letting the lonely wolf feed on his mind as he lets it destroy him, devour him alive. And now the Joel you know is gone.

   “Joel, please,” you beg as you take one last breath, eyes hounding into his as you plead for him to let you go. Just when you think he won’t let up, his eyes grow wide, his furrowed eyebrows relaxing as he comes back to himself and realizes what he’s done. 

   He drops his hands from your neck abruptly and shoots back as you gasp for breath, coughing your lungs out as he watches in fear, his eyes as wide as the night sky as his hands shake, his body stiff as he looks on in pure horror. When you’re able to breathe freely again, you stand up and walk slowly toward him, your body buzzing from confusion and shock. 

   You reach for him, call out his name, but he steps out of your space and presses himself against the still, open door. He looks terrified, his eyes wild as he realizes what he did. He hurt you. He hurt you. 

   You step closer, one foot forward and then another until he slips once again from your grasp. You reach out one more time, begging him to stay, needing him to stay, but he doesn’t, he won’t. 

   “Please, don’t,” you beg as you feel your body start to shut down, your heart hammering in your chest as you just stare at him, at his sad, hurting dark eyes. Please stay. Please. 

   Your eyes water, fingers twisting against the faded material of your jeans as you silently pray that he’ll stay. He’s hurt, so hurt. You see it in his hazy eyes, flecks of darkness shining like fresh teardrops. He just stares at you stunned, hands flexed into tight fists as he curses himself for what he did to you. 

   “I… I…” He’s speechless, nothing but slurring sounds as he stands tongue tied in front of you. But you wish he’d say something, anything. You just need to know he’s okay. But he doesn’t say anything, nothing at all. And it hurts. It fucking hurts.

   His eyes cloud over, the anger simmering inside his empty body as he backs out of the house slowly, his eyes wide and daunting as he sees you standing there, tears starting to stream down your beautiful face. He did that. He did that.

   Fragile. You’re so fragile, so fucking special. He can’t bear to break you anymore than you already are. He doesn’t want to drag you into the pit of despair, so he runs. He runs into the thick trees, far away from you, away from something that might just be his saving grace. He runs as fast as his tired legs can carry him, bones crushing against the weight of his heavy heart as he fades away, letting the forest swallow him whole till he’s far away from you. 

   He can’t fucking ruin you, too. You’re too… precious. Little lambs don’t deserve to be slaughtered by big bad, bleeding wolves. That’s what he is… broken. That’s all he’ll ever be. 

   He runs feral through the dark forest, jumping over broken vines, dodging tangled tree limbs, and dragging his worn out leather boots through the thick mud. He ignores the distant screech of infected, could care less if a clicker came and tore his skin to shreds. What would it matter? He’s lost everything, but most importantly he lost you. Gave you up so he wouldn’t drag you down to the darkness with him. He’d rather take a gun to his head than see himself hurt you again. 

   You were his little lamb, but he laid you out to be slaughtered with the blood of the monster that was inside himself. A vicious wolf that deserved to be put to sleep. 

   He howls to the full moon, runs till he has nowhere else to go, stopping at the edge of a shimmering, dark lake under the moonlight that casts shadows over the murky water. He drops to his knees, sinks his nails deep into the dirt, burying his head in his chest as he mourns the loss of you, of Sarah, of Ellie. 

   He doesn’t deserve Ellie’s forgiveness, will never forgive himself for letting Sarah get shot instead of him, won’t ever forget how wrecked you looked watching him walk out of your house. That picture will forever burn through his mind, the sad glistening tears that pricked your beautiful eyes, the way you tried to stop him from leaving, the way you said you were his. You weren’t his. Not anymore. No. He saved you from that doomed fate, even though it shattered him completely. 

   He was a mere man in scattered pieces, his heart completely torn to shreds. He has nothing left to live for, so why doesn’t he just end it? It’d sure as hell be better than living without you in his arms. 

   He claws his nails into the dirt, sinking his head further into his chest until he becomes a part of the earth. Hollow, dirt encased, a mere existence that only coexists with the dark depths of the lake. 

   Forever doomed to be a lone wolf.

   You stand there frozen in place, your hand on your throat, wide eyes staring at the open door as darkness seeps inside. Joel. He left, he left without a goodbye, without anything. Just left you alone in this house, without him.

   He said you weren’t his with his claws wrapped around your throat, looked like a wounded puppy after he realized what he did. He looked so… lost. And that’s how you feel, standing in the chill of the room without a speck of comfort to keep you warm, without his arms, his eyes, his touch. 

   You open your mouth but no words come out, only static noise that sounds a lot like a plea to make him come back. He’s not a monster, he’s not bad like he thinks he is. He was angry, scared, pained when he pounced through your front door, and you saw that same pleading look in his eyes that reflected off yours all those long, insufferable nights he left you alone in this house.

   The clock ticks and ticks and ticks until you crack. You have to go after him, you can’t let him slip from your fingers again. So you throw on your best brave face, grab the large flashlight, and run after him into the unknown territory of the pitch black forest.

   The temperature change from the warm home turns to near frigid temperatures as the wind whips through your hair violently. You turn your face back to the light of your house, but quickly avert your gaze back to the frightening shadows that stalk the forest.

   You don’t know what’s in there, what’s stalking in the quiet of the night, but you throw the frightening thoughts out of your scattered mind. There could be bears, infected, or even deadly clickers that could rip your throat out with one bite, but you don’t fucking care. All you care is that Joel is in there somewhere, and you have to find him. If it’s the last thing you do, you won’t let him run away again. No. You’d rather die than watch him slip away from your grasp.

   You take off into the thick forest, your flashlight guiding the way as you run like the wind, following Joel’s footsteps that he’d left behind. You’re not keen on sense, not sharp enough to trace him, but you smell him. The brush of his flannel shirt on a fallen tree limb, the woodsy aroma that marks him colliding with your scent, the fear that was in his dark eyes the moment he touched you. You still feel it burning your throat like charred liquid, as hot as his skin was a week ago in your bed. And you… need him.

   You have to find him.

   You feel the sharp tree branches claw across your arms, your windblown hair getting pulled by the wisps of haunted ghosts that warn you to turn back. Get out, leave, run far away from the beast of the forest. But you shut them out and only focus on your ragged breaths as you follow the left behind footsteps that’ll lead you to him.

   You run as fast as your tired feet can carry you, letting the sting of your soles dig into your heels as if shards of glass cut straight through the bottom of your boots. Your lungs feel as if they’re on fire, the cold wind almost suffocating you as if you’ll pass out at any second.

   Keep moving. You have to find him.

   Against your better judgment, you keep running, keep trekking through the damp, dark forest as the ghosts curse you for striving after a man they call a monster. But he’s no monster to you; you belong to him. Or at least you thought you did. You’re not so sure anymore. But you won’t give up. 

   “Have to find him,” you whimper to yourself as you lose sight of his footsteps in the dirt path. Fuck. But you keep running forward, praying you’re moving in the right direction.

   You can’t bear to think he’s alone out here mourning in the night under the full moon, can’t stand to think of him out in the bitter cold as he torments himself for placing his strong hands on you. It was an accident, only an accident. Because whatever was hurting him, whatever was haunting those beautiful, teary dark eyes was pure pain. And you wonder what caused all that torment behind such a beautiful, anguished face.

   You need to get to him. Before it’s too late. Before… he’s gone again.

   Joel, Joel, Joel. The name itself makes you run faster than the wind as it tears through your messy hair.

   You take one, two more racing steps, but then something catches your ankle, like claws tethering and holding you back from where you need to be. 

   “Joel,” you whisper before you go colliding into the dirt covered ground while your flashlight slips out of your hand and nearly cracks on impact.

   The pain scorches through your body, your lungs fill with burning fire, and the breath is ripped from your body as a shattering ache runs straight through your bones. You look back and find a root entangled around your foot, and when you try to move it it ignites with blinding pain.

   You try to scream, but your voice is nothing in the howl of the wind as your lungs bleed with the sting of sharp, stabbing pain. Tears spill over in your glassy eyes as they fight to stay open, the radiating pain taking over every single limb in your body.

   You feel defeated, hear the humiliation of taunting ghosts that whisper words that make your skin crawl with rage. He’s nobody, he doesn’t deserve you, he’ll only hurt you. But again, you silence the hateful words and decide to shut them out.

   “I’m not…” you grind your teeth together in a painful scowl as you drag your body forward, “giving him up. I’m not losing him again.” You dig your nails into the dirt and grit your teeth together as you slowly lift yourself off the ground and cry out at the burning sensation that threatens to take you back to your knees, but you won’t let it. You’ll drag yourself through the thick forest until you find those large brown eyes again. You won’t give up, you’ll never give up until you’re right where you belong. Back in his arms.

   You’re not losing him. Not again, not ever. 

   You drag yourself deeper into the forest, tripping over protruding vines, carrying the weight of your scratched up legs, tears brimming to the surface as you whisper his name over and over and over again. 

   Please, come back, Joel. Where are you?

   You search for over an hour until you finally get close to the edge of the shining lake, and then you see him. Joel sits with his knees encased in the dirt and his body sagged, head down low as tousled curls fall into his beautiful, anguish filled golden brown eyes.

   You topple to the ground and whisper out his name, your body giving up as tiredness and pain take their course through your lungs. “Joel.”

   He slowly turns his head in your direction, and he looks completely defeated. “Go away.” It’s barely a breath off his lips, but a demand just the same.

   “No.” You shake your head and hold your ground, feeling like the ground might open up and swallow you whole.

   “I said go away,” he tries again, this time with a bite to his words as his jaw clenches on the last syllable.

   “Joel, no.” You push yourself out of the dirt, scuffing your boots forward until you’re almost right behind him. “Why did you run from me? Why did you…”

   He turns his head and grits his teeth together, and you see pure anger in those flash of onyx eyes. “I said LEAVE!” 

   He uses all his strength to shove you back, and you topple to the ground, your flashlight shattering against the trunk of a tree, and you land hard on your right side. You look up with tears streaming down your eyes, and his eyes go wide, fear lacing inside those pools of dark brown irises. Again, he curses himself for putting his hands on you not once, but twice tonight. And you see how beaten and torn apart that makes his shaking body.

   The air is so still, the wind barely moving as you sit there in the hollow dirt with your hands reaching for life. Cold. You're so cold, the intolerable temperature barely noticeable as your heart shatters in two.

   "Jus’ please, listen to me for once," he whispers, his defeated voice barely audible above the faint wind.

   You shift your worn out body, crawling on your hands and knees to the man that's torn apart. You inch closer, crawling and crawling until he barks back at you.

   "Go away!" His voice is demanding, final as he lashes out at you, sharp canines biting back as he snarls your way.

   Your teary eyes peel down his body, watching as he's hunched over and clawing the earth to get a hold of himself. You see the way he carries himself, jaw clenched and head down to his chest. One hand covers his eyes, the other sinks into the dirt as you watch a hot tear fall down his face and land in the shimmering lake.

   He's so broken, just like the black military watch that sits latched around his left wrist. Shattered glass, no ticking hands, no life to be found in the clear reflection.

He's broken, so very broken. Bruised, hollowed out, defeated. 

   Your heart breaks in that moment; you can barely pick yourself up. Cold, you're so cold, but it's not because of the wind. It's because you feel just how torn apart he really is, and it kills you. You want to take the pain away, want to make it all just stop. Only if he'd let you, but he won't.

   Let me in. Let me in!

   Your eyes shoot to his broken watch as the lake glitters against the glass. He sees you staring, but he has no more strength to lash out. “Joel, please. Tell me what’s wrong. Tell me what’s hurting you,” you plead, your voice cracking against the wind.

   “What’s hurting me? Everything is hurting me,” he murmurs, and you feel the pain that carries through his gravelly voice.

   “Tell me, Joel. Tell me what’s hurting you. Please, I can make it stop,” you reply heavily as you fumble over your words.

   “You can’t make it stop, little lamb. No one can,” he sighs as his face drops to his chest.

   “I can try,” you whisper out.

   His bottom lip twitches, and his fingers curl deeper into the cold dirt. His jaw ticks, and you see he’s fighting a battle within himself, but that battle breaks seconds later. “This watch, the reason I still wear it is because my daughter gave it to me before the outbreak happened.”

   You gasp, but you let him continue.

   “Her name was Sarah. And she… she died in my arms when we were tryin’ to escape Austin.” The wind dies down, and the two of you just sit in silence until he starts up again.

   “A soldier thought she was infected, and he didn’t give us the time to even try to explain ourselves. And so he shot her, right by the heart. And my little girl was gone seconds after.” Tears start streaming down his face, and his head falls down even lower as he fights to keep himself up. 

   Oh, Joel.

   His fingers push harder into the dirt, and his body starts to shake uncontrollably as his grief slips away, carrying over the silvery lake and crashing right into your heart. You feel just how broken Joel really is.

   “It should’ve been me! Sarah was jus’ twelve years old. She was too young, she was my only child, my only baby girl. And she…” His words cut off as tears start falling against the backs of his rough hands.

   “Joel…” you whisper, your words being silenced by his gravelly voice.

   “And then I got another chance with Ellie. Ellie was the one reason, the closest thing I had to a daughter again. And now… now she fuckin’ hates me after what I did. After I lied to her about the fireflies. She can’t even stand the sight of me…” 

   You shift your weight on the ground, your eyes glossy from tears that fill your eyes. You try to reach your hand out, but he cringes and backs away. You feel a cold teardrop streak across your cheek, and you just feel completely hopeless knowing he’s in this much pain, and he won’t let you even try to comfort him.

   “Give her some time, maybe she’ll…”

   “She won’t even fuckin’ look at me when I’m in the same room as her!” His voice comes out strong, but it’s still cracked with flecks of sadness and remorse. “She’ll never forgive me…”

   You swallow a whine in the back of your throat, and you stay staring at the man you’ve come to care for so deeply. You hate seeing him in this much pain, you fucking hate it.

   “And then there’s Tommy. Most days he can’t even stand the sight of me. And then you…” His voice cracks, and you see a silent tear fall to the ground. “I… hurt you. And I’ll never forgive myself for that. I’m a… a bad man. I should’ve never put my hands on you…” His face falls into his hands as he lets the tears rain down, and that shatters you completely.

   His words are so sad, so very defeated. And you feel as if you’ve been hit with a truck by how unbearably awful you feel in this moment. He’s not a bad man. He was never a bad man.

   You crawl on your hands and knees, carefully watching yourself so you don’t scare him off, and freeze when you hear him whispering to himself. "Make it stop, please. Make the pain stop. I'm not good... I'm not good for anyone. I’m not good for you. But you’re the only thing I want…" he whispers like it’s only meant for his own ears, and it crushes you to pieces.

   Oh, Joel.

   You feel a tear slide down your cheek, feel your eyesight become blurry with the stained tears in your eyes. He thinks he's not good, but that's not true. He's good. You think he's good.

   Without wasting another moment, you rush over to him and crash your body into the back of him, wrapping your arms so tight around his broad chest as you drop to the ground and put your entire weight into him.

   "I told you to go away..." Joel whispers, a tortured plea that sounds a lot like a cry for help low in his voice. It comes off raspy, choking the words out as you feel another tear fall from his eyes.

   He needs you. He needs you.

   "I know, but l'm not leaving you, Joel. You need me just as I need you. Let me stay, please. Let me stay. I... I want to stay," you choke out, stuttering the words as your teeth chatter together. It's so cold, so very cold. But he's warm, and this is where you choose to stay.

   "You... want to stay..." he breathes out, barely above a whisper as you feel his eyes go wide, a somber look feeding his broken mind.

   Broken. He's so completely broken.

   "Yes, let me stay with you. Please, don't run from me again. I... I can't lose you. I thought you weren't coming back. I thought you…”

   You feel a warm palm flatten against the back of your hand hesitantly. He stays like that for a few seconds as you listen to his deep breaths and muted cries. And then calloused fingers entwine with yours slowly, a clear response he's not running off again.

   He stays. He stays.

   He’s so fucking broken, just like the shattered watch that sits clasped around his wrist, just like the broken skin of his knees that drag against the dirt. He’s so broken that it makes you hold on to him tighter, makes you want to never ever let go, makes you want to scream to the sky that he deserves love, deserves someone that’ll show him he’s not alone. And you suddenly realize that someone is you. You care about him so deeply, and you love… you love him.

   “I love you…” you whisper into the shell of his ear, afraid of what he’ll do when he hears.

   “You… what?” he asks as he turns slowly, his eyes as wide as the bright full moon that hangs in the dark night sky.

   “I love you,” you repeat, eyes flicking to his as he stares you down with unbelieving eyes.

   “Why?” His voice is pained like he can’t believe what he’s hearing, that you’re the one saying it to him. 

   “Why? Because… because I see you. The real you. Through all the gnashing teeth, through all the pain, all the brokenness, the loneliness. I see you, Joel. You’re not all sharp bites and harsh words. I see a light in you. You’re… gentle underneath it all. You’re warm. You’re worth fighting for. You’re worth loving. You don’t deserve to be alone, Joel. You never did…” 

   You hold a little tighter to him, let your fingers meld to the sides of his face, let your hands softly graze against his silvery scruff until he’s looking at you so intensely and wide-eyed that you can see how bright his glossy chocolate eyes are.

   He freezes, just sits there blinking down at you, like he still can’t believe his ears. He seems conflicted, wide eyes just staring and staring as the words don’t quite touch his lips. He can’t believe it, doesn’t want to believe someone could actually love him. But then his eyes soften when he looks at you again, his eyes so clear, misty pools of honey staring back at you, and he finally moves, finally does something.

   He removes your hands slowly from his face and places them back in your lap as gentle as a lamb. And then he strokes your face so softly, almost like a feather glides over the surface of your skin. His thumb traces along the edge of your lower lip, slowly slipping a strand of hair behind your ear. And he just stares, searching your eyes for any response that you could’ve been lying, but he finds no lie, only finds soft love, something deep down that he’s always wanted. Someone like you. 

   He dips his head and places it against your forehead, blowing his cinnamon breath along your skin, your lips, and his fingertips linger like fire against your jawline as he sets your heart ablaze.

   “Fuck. I love you, little lamb. I love you with every fiber of my beating chest,” he whispers before he collides his lips with yours.

   He pulls you against his broad chest and brushes his fingers through your hair as you melt into his touch, his coffee flavored taste, and you part your lips to allow him access to your tongue. He takes long strokes, licking inside your mouth as you moan at the taste of him on your tongue.

   You push your fingers through his tousled curls and hear him groan against your mouth, and then you feel him dragging both of you to the ground.

   You’re both naked in seconds as he rips through the clothes and lays you on your back as he splays you open as he takes in the view of you, and it’s like he’s fallen in love all over again as his eyes burn vibrant amber.

   “Christ. You’re so fuckin’ beautiful. You’re so… mine,” he claims, making your heart jolt as the words rip from his lips.

   He takes his time with you, brushing his calloused fingers over your delicate skin, slowly licking up the heat of your core until you’re nothing but liquid beneath his touch. He’s so soft, so slow as he laps up your sticky slick, colliding his tongue with your puffy clit, curling his fingers up inside you until he reaches your spongy spot, and then you lose it, releasing all over his thick fingers, his tongue until you’re panting his name in a chorus of ecstasy under the lit full moon.

   He flips you over, straddles you against his hips, and then you ride him slowly as his large hands grasp your hips, assisting you as you take every inch of his large cock inside your dripping core, squeezing him with every rut and stroke he gives you of his large length. 

   The world slips into nothingness, both of your bodies become the shimmering water of the lake, your ragged breaths transforming into the whimsical howls of the wind, your love confessions tangling to every single root in the ground, claiming the entire forest as your own as Joel continues the soft strokes of his thick fingers up your delicate skin. 

   You and Joel tumble to the ground until he’s claiming every single part of you again and again and again until every single soul in the forest knows you’re his.

   He laces his fingers through yours, holding your hands  high above your head as your legs wrap around his strong hips, and then you’re lost to the night as he slowly makes love to you time and time again, an endless tumble of ecstasy, lust, hungry need, and love spilling through every nerve in your body.

   “Say you’re mine, little lamb,” he murmurs softly as his lips trace over yours.

   “I’m yours, Joel. I’ve always been yours,” you whisper as his lips fall down to yours, laying claim to every inch of your needy mouth.

   “Mine,” he repeats, his tongue dancing against yours as he takes the kiss deeper, his hands clinging to the back of your head as his fingers thread through your hair. 

   He kisses you like no one has ever done before, licking and stroking his tongue over every single crevice of your mouth, acting as if he’ll die if he doesn’t get his lips on yours right this very moment.

   It’s like nothing you’ve experienced before. His sharp demands that he usually barks are replaced with gentle kisses, sweet words, and sensations that make you fall apart over and over again beneath his body. It’s like you’re floating over water as your bodies entwine, his arms never letting you fall as he rocks against your hips and whispers how much he loves you against the shell of your ear.

   He tips his head back and howls into the moonlight every single time you arch your back and feel the white hot heat take control of your body, spilling over him, giving him everything you have as “I love you” tumbles out of each of your mouths over and over again. 

   You’ll never get enough of him, will never be able to let him go now because you’re his, just as much as he is yours.

   You swear you fall more and more in love with him with  every touch he slides over your skin, every stroke of his hard length inside of you, every breathtaking kiss he sets to your lips, every single breath he breathes out of his beautiful body, and every soft word he traces off his lips for you. He’s it for you, your future, your love of your life, your everything. And he feels the exact same way about you.

   Your back arches one last time as you spill everything for him, letting him take you to the edge as he gives you one last thrust to your spongy walls. You fade into ecstasy, your body burning like fire as his forehead falls against yours while he falls apart right after you.

   It’s all quiet, the forest silent. The only sounds are you and Joel’s ragged breaths as they collide against one another. 

   He strokes your jawline, looks at you with bright syrupy eyes, and you swear you see forever in those magnificent sets of gorgeous eyes. He kisses you softly, setting you ablaze once more as the ground burns hot against your tangled bodies. 

   “You stayed,” he says with swimming eyes, his calloused palm caressing you softly as if he can’t believe you’re still here with him.

   “I’ll always stay, Joel. Yours,” you confirm as you place your hand against his.

   “Mine,” he whispers as he smothers you in an earth shattering kiss that collides your hearts together. 

   He lifts you up minutes later and wraps you in his warm flannel, his jeans and boots the only thing on his skin as he cradles you flush against his chest and carries you back home where he chooses to stay with you, forever.

   And when his lips press against your forehead and he hugs you tight against his body that night in bed, you know he’s yours. That little lamb inside of you never found the big bad wolf scary like everyone else did. You only found home in his big, loving eyes. 

[chaotic-iguana]

🚨 sneak peek at a dark! joel smut wip: 🚨

18+ ahead!

EDIT: HERE IT IS ALL DONE

Four hours. You’d been tied to the bed spreadeagle for four fucking hours. Your wrists and ankles had chafed, you’d nearly lost your voice, and you couldn’t seem to stop trembling.

Joel had one hand on your stomach, pressing down, and another between your legs, bringing you to orgasm after orgasm only to pull away at the last second to watch you buck your hips into thin air, chasing friction, as your high ebbed away again. And then he would start again. And again. And again…

theres more but im cruel and need to rush rn so this is all u get. for now. love u all promise

[thatmrmiller]

What if I was working on something…

Joel is a creepy stalker who pretends to be all charismatic and sweet to neighbour!reader, she has him doing work on her house and he’s just violating her constantly in secret…

Hmmmmm

[vvitchesh3x]

Baby I can you luv for free <333

This is my edit :)

[pedrospatch]

captive

Raider! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: You find yourself missing your captor while he’s out on an early morning hunt with the rest of the group.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. RAIDER ERA. DARK!JOEL. DUBCON. IMPLIED PREVIOUS NONCON. UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 50). READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION. mentions of Joel’s group murdering reader’s group, it’s implied her family members were also killed, Joel pretty much kidnaps reader and keeps her as his own, stockholm syndrome, reader deals with a lot of very distressing and conflicting feelings, Joel isn’t too creepy or extremely dark, but he is still not a good person, mentions of Tommy. VERY BRIEF SMUT in the form of cockwarming, daddy kink but i didn’t go overboard this time, pet names (honey, baby, babygirl, sweetheart) if i missed anything, you can POLITELY let me know because if i missed anything, it was purely accidental. minimal editing.

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS.

if this isn’t your thing, that’s fine, just scroll on by.

word count: 1.4k

a/n: i might actually throw up idk. i’ve had this itch to try dark joel and seeing as i have major writer’s block with all my other wips i decided to just scratch the itch. this is a little out of my comfort zone but i actually ended up feeling pleased with what i wrote. this is my personal take on dark/raider joel, i’m sure it is very out of character but it’s fanfiction so…yeah. here it is.

It’s the rain that rouses you from your sleep.

It beats down heavily on the remote cabin’s tin roof.

Loud. Much too loud.

You roll over, settling yourself on your side.

The mattress is old, worn, rotting beneath the sheets.

You can’t complain, though. At least you have a bed.

Everybody else is forced to sleep on the hard floor.

He always gets the room with the bed.

As his special girl, that means you always get the room with the bed too.

It’s not quite as flattering as one would believe.

He only ever wants the bedroom for one reason—to keep you behind a locked door so you can’t run.

You sigh softly and stare out the window. He’d secured that too, made certain that it couldn’t be opened from the inside.

Closing your eyes, you try and go back to sleep.

Sleep doesn’t come.

His absence is starting to bother you.

You’ve been with him for an entire season now.

You’re getting used to him.

The sound of his voice. 

The warmth of his body.

The taste of his lips.

You can’t even sleep without him next to you.

“Fuck,” you whisper, clutching the stale sheets, balling them in your fists out of frustration.

How was it possible? How could you be missing him?

He had taken everything from you.

Your family.

Your home. 

Your innocence.

He was holding you captive. He was a monster.

But a monster doesn’t keep you safe.

Doesn’t clothe you.

Doesn’t feed you.

Doesn’t protect you.

He did all of those things and more. 

Is that why you feel so empty without him beside you?

Is that why you’re no longer so certain you would run if you were given the chance to escape him?

You fucking hated him for what he’d done.

Yet here you are, aching for him to come back to you.

It’s another hour before you hear the lock clicking. 

Joel pushes through the door, quietly closing it behind him.

“Y’awake?” he asks, slipping his pack off his shoulders.

“Mhm,” you answer with your back to him. “I am.”

You hear the sound of his pack hitting the floor.

His worn leather boots being kicked off. 

His rifle being set down, propped against the wall.

“How was the hunt?”

You can feel him freeze as he’s taking off his jacket.

Getting you to willingly speak to him had always been a lot like pulling teeth. Difficult, almost impossible.

When he doesn’t respond, you roll over to face him.

There’s a swoop in your tummy.

Joel is drenched from head to toe. His blue denim shirt clings to his broad frame and his dark, graying curls are slicked back away from his face.

He’s got such a handsome face.

Monsters aren’t supposed to have handsome faces.

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re really askin’ me how the hunt went?” Suspicion laces his tone. “Why? Y’worried you won’t eat tonight?”

Of course you weren’t.

Joel Miller doesn’t let you go hungry.

When food is scarce, he makes sure you eat first. If he notices you rubbing your tummy because your portion wasn’t enough, he’ll give you his own portion.

He takes care of you.

“No.” You pause and sit up. The sheets you two share fall away from your body, leaving your soft, supple breasts on full display for him. “Just wanted to know how your morning went. That’s all.”

It’s not your tits that make his cock twitch against the zipper of his jeans—it’s the sincerity that flashes across your features, the sound of it in the tone of your voice.

You’re being sweet to him.

He clears his throat lightly.

“Went real good. Brought down a deer. Female, ‘bout a hundred pounds or so. Enough to keep all of us well fed for the next couple of weeks,” he says with a nod. “Was pissin’ rain the entire time but it was worth it. Tommy’s in the shed out back right now dressin’ it so we can get a stew started.” He pauses. “You’re gonna get a proper meal tonight, babygirl. Belly’s gonna be nice and full.”

He’s not just talking about food and you know it.

You make an effort to meet his gaze, but you can’t. You can’t bring yourself to do it, not when you remembered how he’d taken you away from your family—how he had carried you over his shoulder, kicking and screaming as his people raided your camp and slaughtered every last member of your group because that’s what Joel Miller had ordered them to do.

Looking him in the eye might be the one thing you will never, ever be able to do.

“It’s cold,” you murmur after a minute. “You should get out of those wet clothes before you get sick.”

With a subtle nod, Joel turns around and starts peeling off his clothes until he’s completely naked. He uses an old rag to dry himself off as best as he can, although it doesn’t do much for him.

You can’t help yourself and stare—your gaze drags over the strong muscles of his back and shoulders, how they flex and ripple beneath his skin with every single one of his movements. Arousal pools between your thighs and all you can do is fucking hate yourself for wanting it, for wanting him.

“S’pretty early still,” he states, his back still to you as he runs the rag through his hair. “Y’should try to get some more sleep.”

The confession tumbles out of your mouth before you can even think about stopping it.

“I couldn’t sleep while you were gone.”

Surprised, he turns around.

Almost immediately, your eyes fall to his cock.

Even when he isn’t fully hard, he’s still so fucking big.

“Is that so?” Joel asks, sounding rather pleased. 

“Yes,” you say, softly. “I—I missed you.”

His lips turn upwards into a subtle, faint grin.

“Yeah?” he coos. “My sweet little girl missed me while I was gone? Hm?” Slowly, he approaches the bed. It dips slightly and the frame creaks as he plants a knee on the mattress and leans over towards you. Gently, Joel takes your chin between his index finger and thumb. “Y’need Daddy by your side so you can sleep, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you whisper, warm tears glazing over your eyes.

It’s bad enough your body welcomed him so easily.

Now your heart was starting to do the same.

And then there was your mind.

What if that stopped fighting him too?

Part of you is afraid it already has.

Joel climbs into bed, joining you under the sheets.

“M’here, my pretty girl. C’mere, honey.” He coaxes you to lay on your side and pulls you back against his chest. His skin is still damp, frigid from having been out in the elements, but somehow he’s still warm. “That better?”

“Need you closer,” you mumble, wiggling against him.

Joel groans, his thick cock hard and throbbing against the small of your back. He nips at your bare shoulder as his hand drags down the length of your body and slips between your thighs. “Christ, babygirl. Pussy’s soakin’ wet for me. Looks like she missed me while I was gone too, didn’t she, sweetheart?”

He runs his finger along your slick, silky folds.

“Daddy,” you whimper, bucking into his hand.

“Don’t worry, honey. Daddy knows what you need.”

Joel pulls his hand from between your legs.

You almost cry—you’re so fucking desperate for him. 

And you shouldn’t be. 

He reaches in between your bodies, his hand wrapping around the base of his cock. Without warning, he slips it into your tight, aching cunt, sheathing himself in your warm, wet heat in one smooth stroke.

You choke out a sob.

It’s always overwhelming, that initial stretch.

That fullness, the feeling of him being in your belly.

“S’alright, sweetheart. S’alright. I know you can take it,” he soothes you. “You’re such a good girl for me. Always take my cock so fuckin’ well. So good for me, baby. You feel better now that Daddy’s cock is buried inside your pretty little pussy?”

He drapes an arm around you, pulling your back flush against his chest.

“Yes,” you breathe, placing your hand on top of his.

Joel feathers a kiss onto your neck.

“Go to sleep, babygirl. M’here. Ain’t goin’ nowhere,” he promises you.

That shouldn’t be a comfort to you. But it is.

You close your eyes, your fingers subconsciously lacing together with his as you start to drift.

Cunt full of his cock, you fall asleep in your captor’s arms.

divider credit to @saradika🤍

[pedrosyouknowwhat]

A glimpse of us

A trilogy where Joel Miller won't take care of his mistakes.

Pairing: Dark! Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: Dead dove do not eat, noncon, dubcon, manipulation, pregnancy, big age gap (Reader is 20 and Joel is 55), further warnings in each chapter

Catching fireflies

Apocalyptic winter

Reborn Again

[koshkamartell]

summary: DDDNE one shot AU. No outbreak. You had a mind blowing encounter with Joel one night after meeting at a club. When you evade him, he decides to track you down and teach you a lesson.

warnings: noncon PIV, stalker!Joel, perverted!Joel, reader is feminine, slut shaming, unspecified age gap, degradation.

word count: 2,600

notes: please interact and leave comments if you enjoy my work. It really does encourage me to keep writing.

Joel wasn't going to let you get away this time. He was going to make sure you couldn't up and run like you did the first time - that night two weeks ago, when you had taunted him and tantalised him and even let him taste you, for fucks sake, just to have you disappear into thin air. You had robbed him of pleasure that was rightfully his to take. Tonight, he was going to prove a point.

Joel was going to make you his bitch.

He parks his truck across the street from your apartment and turns off the engine. Your street is shroud in shadows, the dull street lamps doing little to illuminate the area - he doesn't need to worry too much about keeping concealed.

He taps the back of his knuckles on the steering wheel, his eyes vigilantly surveying up and down the sidewalk. He would wait as long as he had to for you to eventually traipse home from a long night out of doing whatever the fuck you and your whore friends do on a Saturday night. He was a patient man. Persistent.

You show up sometime after 2 am. When the taxi pulls up outside your apartment and Joel sees you emerge from the backseat, his hands grip tightly around the steering wheel and he sucks in a sharp breath of air. There you are, finally.

His eyes stay trained on you, transfixed like a predator stalking it's prey. The taxi drives away and you are left alone to totter unsteadily in your highheels up the pathway to your shitty little apartment. He wonders how drunk you are. Your dress is so short that he can almost see your asscheeks. Typical fuckin' slut. His cock thickens in his jeans as he watches you rifle around in your handbag for your housekeys, totally oblivious.

Joel gets out of his truck and swiftly stalks over to you on his long legs, his movements agile and panther like. You don't hear him approach you, too busy concentrating on pushing the key into the lock. Just as you turn the door knob and open the front door Joel clamps his large hand over your mouth and wraps his other arm around your waist. Before you can instinctively scream and fight back he manhandles you into the apartment and slams the door shut behind him with a kick of his boot.

Your keys and handbag fall to the floor. Your body wriggles futilely in his grip as Joel drags you down the hallway to your bedroom, where a lamps brightens the otherwise dark apartment - smart girl, you never know who could be hiding in the shadows. Your hands scratch desperately at his forearms and you squeal into the calloused palm of his hand, your chest heaving as you try to suck in air through your nose. Your back is pressed against his broad chest, his clothed erection jabbing into your ass.

"Quiet," Joel growls. He digs his fingers into the flesh of your cheek and gives your head a shake. "Don't make a fuckin' sound or I'll make you regret it, you hear me?"

You are sobbing in fear now, your body shaking and shuddering. He can feel your heart pounding in your chest. You're so fucking scared - good, you should be, you deserve to feel like this after the shit you pulled last time.

"Nod your head," Joel whispers in the shell of your ear. "Show me you understand."

You nod your head quickly to demonstrate your compliance. He slowly removes his hand from your mouth, your breath hot and shaky as you gasp in a lungful of air. He keeps his arm wrapped securely around your waist, pinning you to his front.

"You remember me, don't you?" He murmers into your ear. His hand trails down to your neck and comes to rest lightly on one of your breasts. "I'm the man who ate that slutty little pussy and gave you the best orgasm of your life."

Your breath hitches briefly, your body stilling momentarily. Yes, you remembered.

How could you not? The chemistry between you that night had been insane, the flirting more thrilling than anything Joel had experienced in a long while. And when Joel had cornered you in a secluded corner of the bar rooftop garden and gone down on you, it was clear that your body had wanted him just as much as he wanted you; your juice gushed in his mouth as you came, barely able to stifle your squeals with your fingers tightly threaded through his salt and pepper curls.

"Ain't gonna run from me now, are ya?" Joel purrs. You shake your head, seemingly too frightened to speak. "Good girl."

He buries his nose in your hair and inhales the sweet scent of your perfume. You smell so fucking good, just as he remembered.

His hand squeezes your breast and kneads it, groaning at the feeling of your soft flesh in his grip. He ruts his hard cock against you, the friction from his jeans causing it to throb and leak.

He needs to feel you. Now.

Joel slides his other hand over your belly and dips it down underneath your dress and inbetween your thighs. The pads of his fingers caress the top of your mound before moving to press on your clit. He feels the scant crotch of your panties sticking to the warmth of your core. You're probably wet, too.

He rubs circles over your clit and you squeal and try to shut your legs to push him away, prompting him to deliver a harsh smack over your pussy. You jolt forward and whine loudly.

"Nuh-huh," Joel tuts. "You're mine tonight, baby. I'll do whatever I want with ya."

He presses his fingers back onto your clit possessively and resumes massaging it in tight swirls. Your thighs tremble and you gasp and mewl, overcome with conflicted pleasure.

Joel smirks to himself - he knew you'd be unable to resist. His other hand continues groping your breast, his thumb swiping back and forth over your hardening nipple.

"Oh my god," you half whisper, half sob. Joel chuckles and grinds his hips against your ass, using his firm grasp on your body to pull you back into his crotch.

"Yeah, honey," he cooes into your ear. "Knew you'd want this, can't help how desperate your little pussy is, huh?"

It would be easy for Joel to get lost in the moment, to drop to his knees and worship your body until you come undone, screaming and moaning his name. He's naturally a giver. He would love to make you cum again - on his tongue, with his fingers, with his cock.

But he has to stop to remind himself why he's here. He needs to remember that tonight isn't about your pleasure. It's about his. It's his fucking turn now.

Without warning Joel abruptly seizes the band of your thong and tears it apart, then flips you around and shoves you forcefully onto the bed. You squeal when your back thuds against the mattress. Within a couple of seconds he's kneeling inbetween your legs and briskly unbuckling his belt, his dark brown eyes looking possessed as he stares at you with intense carnal hunger.

"Thought you could run away," Joel grunts. He hurriedly unzips his jeans and wrangles his thick cock out from his underwear.  "Leave me high and dry, like a goddamn asshole, huh?"

He feels a smug sense of pride when he clocks the way your eyes widen in panic at the size of his dick. You shake your head frantically and cover your the area between your thighs with your hands, desperately trying to protect yourself from the inevitable destruction Joel is intent on unleashing upon you.

"N-no, I s-swear," you babble pathetically.

Joel huffs a mirthless laugh. "Thought I'd be like all them other losers at the bar, didn't ya? Let ya play those little tricks to get what you want, then fuck off?"

He grabs both of your wrists in one of his paws and wrenches them above your head. He spreads his knees wide between your thighs and peers down at your sweet pussy. The mere sight of your puffy lips and glistening hole makes his cock weep with precum.

You're all Joel has been dreaming and fantasising about for the past week; it had been impossible for him to focus on work when his brain was constantly envisioning your bewitching body and angelic face, the taste of your juicy goddamn pussy on his tongue.

And now here you were in the flesh, the luscious object of his degenerate desires, trapped right underneath him.

Joel strokes the small tuft of hair on your mound before using his forefinger and middle to spread open your pussy lips. His tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip. He knows he should finger you first and make you cum atleast once before he fucks you with his cock; he knows he's big and that it'll hurt you, especially if you're unprepared. But fuck it, it's your punishment for being a teasing whore. He'll make it fit, whether you're ready or not.

Joel grips his cock and gives it a few pumps before shuffling a little closer to your crotch. He angles the blunt head against your slit and slowly begins to push inside you. You quiver and sob below him, fresh tears leaking from your eyes as you beg him to stop. He's only just inched the tip of himself inside your tight heat when you snap and begin to fight.

"No! Fuck off!" You scream and writhe, trying in vain to kick at him with your heeled shoes and wriggle away. Joel let's go of your wrists but quickly collapses ontop of you, the weight of his much larger body instantly restraining you. He hurriedly slaps his hand over your mouth to silence you.

"None'a that, now," he hisses, his nose nuzzling against your cheek. He propels his hips to further push into your cunt, earning a stifled shreik from you. "You're gonna take this fuckin' dick, right here and right now."

You dig your nails into the flannel of his shirt as he rocks his hips back and forth slowly, gradually feeding more and more of his length. You are crying and struggling to breathe through your nose underneath his palm but he doesn't care. He continues the shallow sawing motion for a minute, only allowing half his cock to enter you, mercifully granting your walls a short time to adjust. His hand comes up to stroke over your hair soothingly.

"You're tight, baby. Relax, let me in."

Joel gives one final stuttering push and buries himself all the way to the hilt, his heavy balls pressing against your ass. He lets out a rumbling moan, luxuriating in how your walls contract around him while you struggle to accomodate the entirety of his thick length. Your body wracks with shudders and your thighs quake against the solid flanks of his body, your muscles no doubt straining from the weight of him slotted between your legs.

Joel withdraws his hips until his cock pulls almost completely out of you, momentarily granting you reprieve, only to suddenly slam back inside. You choke out a scream as your eyes roll back into your head. He repeats the motion again and again, over and over, parting your insides and carving a space so deep that you swear you feel him in the pit of your stomach.

His deviant hunger is growing more fervent with every second, his wicked desire to claim you burning to a fever pitch. He had wanted to go slow, to savour the experience, but his conviction is rapidly dissipating.

Joel's movements soon escalate into a rhythmic assault, his cock plunging into your pussy with brutal, deepseated strokes. He presses his nose against your cheek.

"Feel so good, baby," he moans between panting breaths, "knew this pussy would feel like fuckin' heaven."

He maintains the savage pace of his hips crashing against yours for several minutes, reveling in the euphoric pleasure your body grants him. How dare you deny him such bliss, leaving him wounded and unfulfilled and fucking pissed off. Why hadn't you just given him a chance? Was he too old? Was it all just a funny game to you?

A firey flame of indignation and rage rips through his ribcage and guts, urging him to punish you. He wants to ruin you, to show you just how utterly he can break you.

Joel smushes his palm harder against your mouth as he fucks his cock in and out of your abused hole; you wail with every thrust but it comes out as nothing more than a muffled whine.

"Yeah, you feel that?" Joel growls into your ear. "Feel that cock rippin' you apart, ya bitch? Can't run from me now, can ya?"

He pounds into you with fervour, panting and grunting with animalistic voracity, drowning out the noises of your stifled sobs. The bed squeaks against the bedroom wall from the momentum of Joel's unrelenting barrage. He's so lost in his own depravity that he doesn't realise just how quickly his orgasm has approached.

"Gonna cum in this slutty pussy," Joel groans, delirious from the intense pleasure of your cunt squeezing around his dick. "Fill you up til you're fuckin' burstin'. Won't ever forget me now."

Your body goes lax underneath Joel's weight as he jack hammers into you, chasing his climax. Less than ten seconds later he's coming undone, his orgasm reaching its peak. The pace of his hips falter and warm ropes of his cum paint the insides of your tortured body. He pants wildly, nose crushed against the side of your face, his face damp from your tears and the sweat of his exertion. He removes his hand from your mouth and strokes your cheek with his thumb, unbothered by the deep inhale and subsequent weep you cough out from your throat.

Joel stays like that ontop of you for some time, catching his breath and coming down from his high. When the cloud dissipates from his mind and his cock begins to soften inside your walls, he presses a chaste kiss to your temple and carefully pulls out.

He stands up from the bed and groans, his body now worn and weary. You remain exactly where you are, staring up at the ceiling with your body trembling.

Joel hitches his underwear and jeans up and glances up at you as he buckles his belt. He smirks at the sight of your parted legs and ruined cunt, the trickle of cum leaking out and staining your bed sheets.

"Learned your lesson now, didn't you, baby?" He sneers smugly. "Gonna stop and think before teasin' an old man like me ever again, ain't that right?"

All you do is sob and roll over onto your side, facing away from Joel. He chuckles to himself and shakes his head, as if the whole scenario were a joke. "Don't got to worry too much anyway, honey. Ain't no man is gonna want that sloppy pussy now."

He crouches down and picks up the torn scrap of your underwear and shoves it into the pocket of his jeans. "You stay safe now, sweetheart."

Joel doesn't bother to give you one last look before he swaggers out of your bedroom, his ego satisfied and satiated, leaving you alone to wallow in the shattered remains of your soul.

credit to @saradika-graphics for the border used.

[mannaima]

Small thirst bc I’m watching lectures and my brain can’t focus.

(pre outbreak! Joel miller x reader)

tw stalking, noncon, exhibitionism, scumbag Joel

You were hunched over your yard, picking out the weeds. It was a warmer Texas day, still hot, but the best day out of the weak to get some yard work done without having a heat stroke. You wore a pretty sundress, little flowers spread all over, a cute design. You, of course, wore shorts under your dress, much to your watching neighbors’ dismay.

Joel was watching you through his window, curtains pulled away just slightly. He had the first day off in a while, Sarah was at school and he was enjoying the free show he got. His cock was incredibly hard in his jeans, how he wished you took off those shorts and showed him your pretty pussy. You wiped the sweat from your forehead, god, you were gorgeous. He unbuttoned his jeans and let out his cock, throbbing for any stimulation. He shook his head, allowing a rational thought to pop in.

Why would he jerk off to you, when he could just have you?

He quickly put his cock away, making sure he looked presentable before he left his house and walked over to you.

“Hey neighbor!” His southern drawl made you turn over, a smile forming on your face.

“Oh hello Joel! Nice to see you! What brings ya’ here?” You bent back up, smiling as you smacked the dirt off your gloves.

“Was just gonna ask if you needed any help.” Joel has a small smile on his face, arms crossing.

“Oh thank you Joel, but I’m alright! Just gotta finish gettin’ all the weeds out the way, then gotta fix up the shrubs.”

“Let me help you with that, please? Feel bad watching a pretty thing like you work in this heat.” You smiled and playful waved him off.

“I’m a big girl Joel, don’t worry ‘bout me!” Joel gave you a look though, one that basically said “really?” You rolled your eyes, a grin still on your face.

“Oh, alright! You can help me with the shrubs. Follow me, I’ll get you the hedge clippers from the shed.” You went around the side of your home, Joel following behind you. His cock grew once again watching the way your ass moved under the thin material of the dress, with every step. He muttered a small ‘fuck’ as he watched you moved. Now or never.

You had begun to open the shed door, but it was quickly shut by Joel’s large hand reaching over you. You didn’t get much reaction time before Joel’s hand covered your mouth, making you yell against his hand slightly.

“Fuckin’ teasing me all day. Showing off your body in that tiny little dress. You wanted this, didn’t you?” As much as you shook your head, Joel didn’t seem to care. He started to quickly remove your shorts under your dress, removing your panties in the process. You kept squirming against him, trying to get him off you, but he was so strong compared to you.

“Thought you were a big girl, huh? Fight back baby, c’mon.” You kept thrashing against him, but his hand that removed your panties began rubbing against your entrance from behind. You stopped all movement in shock, you felt so scared. You kept yelling for him to stop, the cries muffled behind his hand.

“I can’t wait to fuck your pretty pussy. Been dreaming about this since the day you moved in.” He started to rustle around behind you, and when you heard a belt click, it wasn’t hard to guess what he was doing. You shook your head and tried moving away, but his hand was firm on your hip, the other arm was holding you close to him.

He slowly began to insert his cock, a burning sensation filling you up. You cried out, the pain too much to take in at once. He shushed you, head leaning into your body as he kept furthering his cock inside you.

“You’re so fucking tight baby. Tight little slut.” With the last word, he had bottomed out. You felt so full, twitching slightly at the way he made your walls feel. His cock was clamped around your tight walls, he could feel you tighten up with every sniffle, every sob you let out. He was addicted to the way your pussy felt. He pulled out slightly, and pushed back in. He swore he could already cum by how nice you felt around his cock.

“You like my big fat dick? You like the way I fuck you?” He whispered in your ear, kissing the shell of it in the process, his hips thrusting harshly into you. You kept saying muffled words into his hand, a small amount of drool forming. Joel looked down to see your eyes rolled back— you were enjoying this.

He loved seeing you fucked out, his body pinning yours to the wall of the shed, cock disappearing in and out of you at a fast pace. You started to make sounds of pleasure under his hand. As much as he wanted to hear them clearly, he didn’t want to risk you screaming if he moved his hand. So he kept fucking you at such a pace, he was already close. He gave you a few more sloppy thrusts before bottoming out, cumming deep inside you. You let out a broken moan, squeezing your pussy around his throbbing cock. After about a minute, Joel pulled out of you. He moved his hand away as well.

“You liked that baby?” He kissed your cheek, which was wet with tears. He smirked and kissed you again.

“C’mon, let’s go to my place, Sarah won’t be back for a few hours. Let’s get to know each other, neighbor.”

[lunitawrites]

Both Sides of the Moon - part two

pairing: biker!Joel Miller x fem!reader rating: explicit word count: 4.8k summary: After your first encounter with Joel you finally learn the truth about your family. a/n: hey! I am back with part two of this story, hope you will like it. Thanks for the edit and beta @papipascalispunk ! Please read the warnings carefully on this one!

Want to read a biker Joel story that's not depressing? Check out twin peaks by @toxicanonymity! More fic recs on part 1 of this series. TW: no-outbreak AU, age gap (reader mid-twenties, Joel is late forties), loss of parents, gun, knife, alcohol consumption, Joel being violent towards reader, injury caused by Joel, blood, minor blood play, masturbation (f), oral sex (f receiving), petnames, no physical description of reader, no use of y/n part 1 | masterlist

“I’m okay,” you whisper, “it's fine,” as your fingers smear the fog on the outside of the glass you are holding. “I just want to go home.” you say.

“Of course,” Sam answers, putting a hand on your shoulder, softly nudging you to stand up, “I’ll drive you.” 

“No, it's okay, I’ll be fine,” you insist after finishing the glass of water and putting it down on the diner table next to you.

“No, I’ll drive you home and stay with you tonight. Don't argue with me on this one,” he says as he stands up and starts walking towards the kitchen. “I’m going to grab a change of clothes and then we can go,” he calls back to you. ”Arlene, stay with her.”

“He treats me like a child,” you complain to Arlene as soon as he is out of sight.

“He cares about you,” she says softly, “we care about you.”

“I guess I'm just not used to that,” you confess. 

“Yeah,” she sighs, “that you are not.”  She stands up too then, reaching for your hand, ”Come on, let's get you something stronger than water.”

“You should go back home to your actual kids, Arlene, just let me wait for Sam here,” you laugh, but still follow her to the bar.

“Will you stop with that?”, she laughs too and reaches for a bottle behind the bar. “So, tequila?”, she asks.

“Only if you want to kill me,” you say, but the smile quickly disappears from your face as your voice falls flatly, “I’d rather have a whiskey.”

“Darlin’”, Arlene says, putting a glass in front of you, “Sam will tell you everything, I wasn’t living here when it happened – only heard rumors.”

“When what happened?”, you ask, “I feel like everyone is trying to keep me in the dark.”

“We’re just trying to protect you,” she says.

“Well, that didn't work out so well out there, did it?”, you say and down your drink in one go.

“Let's go!”, Sam says from the kitchen door, “Could you please close up, Arlene? You can come in later tomorrow if you want.”

“It's fine, it's fine,” she says, “Just go!”

You climb down from the bar stool and follow Sam out to the parking lot. He helps you up in the passenger seat of the truck and closes the door behind you.

You drive home in complete silence. Rolling down the window and letting the night air blow in your face, you still feel numb. You catch a glimpse of Sam looking over to you, but you don't say anything, you just lean against the door and watch the trees go by, attempting to process the utter confusion of the emotions you are experiencing.

The moment you saw Joel, you were shaken alive from your usual apathy. It was as if the muscle memory of your heart recognized something it knew from long ago, making it beat rapidly. Like suddenly your body remembered how to feel; a strange gravity in his presence waking a long-forgotten need inside you. A need to belong? You’re not sure. How can you feel like you belong to someone when you know you should be deadly afraid of them?

–

Sam takes a right turn driving up your driveway. He stops the car and rushes to your side to open the door for you and help you out. “What a gentleman,” you tease, and you see him slightly blush as he reaches for you. 

Feeling his blush, he clears his throat, “Let me get my bag, don’t walk without me.” 

“Okay, boss,” you say, leaning on the side of his truck.

“Hungry?”, he asks, grabbing his bag from the back.

“No, I just want to take a shower,” you say quietly while you walk up to your porch. You open the front door and gesture to the living room, “I’ll just shower quickly, but make yourself at home. Kitchen’s that way,” you cock your head to the left.

Sam looks at you with concern, as if even being alone upstairs is a threat to your safety. You can sense his hesitancy, reassuring, “I’ll be fine,” as you nod and run up the stairs. You quickly grab your shorts and t-shirt from the bedroom and head to the bathroom. You take a shower with what feels like nearly-boiling water; an attempt to wash away the fear and confusion of the night. You feel lighter after; walking down the stairs with your wet hair still dripping on your t-shirt. You look for Sam to find him in the kitchen, making a pot of coffee.

“I thought we might need it,” he says, gesturing to the steaming pot, “I suspect we have a long night ahead.” You feel a strange sense of domesticity, seeing him in your kitchen, a place where you don’t even usually host guests, let alone invite a man to stay over.

“Thanks,” you say, “But again, I think I need something stronger,” you say as you reach for the cupboard to pull a bottle of whiskey, pouring a fair amount in two glasses and leading the way to the living room. “Thank you for doing this, Sam,” you start as you extend one of the glasses to him, “I know I can be difficult sometimes, but I appreciate you caring enough to do this.”

He laughs as he takes the glass and makes himself comfortable on the couch. You eye the place next to him, but choose to sit on the armchair instead. You take a sip from your glass and lean back. “So, where do we start?”, you ask, getting the courage from the warming liquor in your stomach.

Sam sits up on the couch a bit more, setting his glass on the coffee table, running his thumb around the edge of it as his face becomes more serious. “How much do you know about your father’s death?” he asks.

“All I have are assumptions,” you say and take another sip from your glass, “I know he was in a gang and that they were smugglers. And that it was drugs.”

“Yeah,” he confirms with a sigh, “They started off small – just helping the cocaine pass the border. But falling into a world like that never stays so simple. It starts with trafficking, but then you gain enemies and rivals, so you have to handle that threat to your business. The town had a difficult time back then. Everything existed and operated around smuggling. Nothing was sacred, nothing was safe.”

You nod slowly. You knew your father wasn't a good man. But it's not something you dwell on now, it’s a fact you buried within yourself long ago, and have not allowed to surface since.

“So what did my dad do in all of this?”, you ask quietly.

“Well, he was the leader of the club along with Joel, his best friend. They started out young, both growing up in this hick town and didn’t see a way out. They felt like they had nothing to lose, and that might have been true at the beginning, but then life happened. Both your dad and Joel got married and had kids, and that’s when everything changed,” Sam says, voice turning raspy.

“Kids? Joel has kids?”, you ask.

“Kid. And had. He had a kid. Sarah,” he almost whispers at the end.

“What happened to Sarah?”, you ask in a hushed voice.

“She died. She was killed,” he says solemnly as he turns to look out the window. You can feel your stomach twisting into a knot. “I’m still not sure I know the full story, honey. I don’t think anyone except Joel really does, but I’ll tell you everything I know.” He turns his face back at you, “What I do know is that Sarah was kidnapped. They say she was kidnapped by a rival gang to force your dad and Joel to give up their territory over the border. Your dad didn’t want to let it go, so they tried to rescue Sarah instead, but– but she didn’t survive ”

“Fuck,” you whisper.

“I told you, nothing was sacred; not friends, not even family,” he says.

“So Joel…”, you start, “Did– did he kill my dad?”

“Yes, but they never found his body, so it’s never been proven,” he answers as his eyes flicker to your face, checking your reaction, but you’re determined to not give any. “They charged him,” Sam continues, “but the prosecution didn’t have enough evidence. Everything was circumstantial.”

“So where has he been since? Why did he only come back now?”, you ask.

“He was serving time for trafficking. I assume he just got out and headed back here – I guess it's still his home, right?”, he asks with a bitter smile.

Slightly dazed as you stare blankly at your empty glass, you reluctantly answer, “Yeah,” you say as you stand up and go to the kitchen again. But this time, you take the whole whiskey bottle and place it on the coffee table after refilling both your glasses. 

“So,” you say contemplatively, “Joel blames me for my father’s mistake and wants to take revenge on me now? Like he hasn't already taken everything from me?” you ask. “He didn't just take my dad, Sam. He robbed me of my childhood, my home,” you say, emptying your glass. 

Sam takes the glass from your hands and places it on the table, his palms brushing over yours; soft, gentle. “Slow down with that,” he says at last, “I don't think we can understand what he wants. I doubt that he came back here planning to find you and taking revenge. I just think seeing you woke up something in him, you being here, alive and–”

“And Sarah being dead,” you finish. “But it's still not my fault, Sam. I’m just as miserable and alone in this world as he is,” you say, tears blurring your vision.

“Come on,” Sam says, taking you by your elbow and leading you up to the bedroom. You watch as a tear drops down on the wooden stairs. You sniff your nose. You see how Sam´s hand twitches next to his body, starting a move he never finishes. Probably reaching to wipe your tears. You are glad he didn't do it. He waits until you slip in the sheets and stands there for a second, not sure what he should do.

“There are some extra pillows and blankets in the wardrobe,” you say at last.

“Thank you,” he says and heads to get them.

“No, thank you for doing this,” you look at him with a faint smile, tears still shedding from your eyes, “Goodnight, Sam.”

“Sleep tight,” he says and closes the door behind him. 

Then you find yourself alone with your thoughts for the first time today. Your head is dizzy, and the room seems to spin around you. Despite the fatigue, sleep eludes you. The encounter with Joel replays in your mind, with the memory of his raw anger and the way his touch ignited a fire within you.

You close your eyes and imagine his hand grabbing your hair, his jeans scratching your bare skin. This is wrong, so wrong, but you place your hand on your stomach, moving it slowly under the waistband of your shorts, further and further until you find your center. You squeeze your eyes closed, as if you don't see it, it's not real and start circling your clit. You dip your fingers to your entrance and find yourself already soaked. “Fuck,” you murmur and keep pleasuring yourself until you are on the edge of your orgasm. You imagine it's not your fingers that curl deeper and deeper inside of you, it's not your palm that pushes down on your clit. “Christ,” you mutter and curve your back starting to shake from the pleasure finally spilling over inside of you.

You can feel tears running down your cheeks as you are coming down from your high. You turn onto your side and sob into the pillow. Your salty tears mix with salty residue on your fingers. You cry until there is nothing else, but the always forgiving darkness around you.

–

The next morning, your life begins to get back to its normal rhythm, the only difference now being that Sam has basically moved in with you.

You don't mind it at first, you’re glad someone cares enough to do this. He gives you the weekend off, so you spend it together. He fixes some things around the house while you read on the porch. You eat your meals together and, at night, you both curl up on opposite ends of the couch to dissociate in front of the flickering fluorescent lights of the TV.

You can't fail to notice how he looks at you, how comfortable he is in your presence, how seamlessly he fits into your home and your life. You recognize how he could become a part of it, if only you would let him. Yet, in your own twisted way, the more he cares, the less you want him around.

As Saturday melts into Sunday you start to feel suffocated. You tell him you want to go back to work. He agrees, maybe getting your minds occupied would help. So he drives you to work on Monday and drives you back home after your shift. You spend the rest of the week on the same schedule.

On Friday you tell him that it is fine, you will be safe, you will just drive home with your own car after your shift. He insists that he needs to protect you, that your life is still in danger. You explain that he cannot do this forever, that you can protect yourself. He walks you to your car, he hands you his gun, asking if you can shoot. You can, so you take it and hide it in your glove compartment while reassuring him for the hundredth time that everything will be alright. You turn on the engine and drive home, finally alone.

–

As you take the right turn to your house, you clearly see Joel’s bike is parked in your driveway, no attempt by him to even try to hide that he is there. You could turn around, go back to the diner, or call Sam, but you don’t. You know Joel isn’t at your house to talk, but your need to know the truth, the full story, pushes you to ignore the more rational, safe response to such a threat. So, you reach for the glove compartment and fish out the gun that Sam gave you.

You get out of the car and stuff it in the back of the waistband of your skirt. As you walk up the stairs to your porch and quietly unlock the front door, you see the house is still dark, but you don’t turn on the lights. Instead you begin making a sweep of the house, walking the ground floor to check the kitchen and living room, but he’s nowhere to be found. You make your way up the stairs, checking the bathroom first, followed by the master bedroom. When you finally reach the end of the hallway, the only door remaining is the one that leads to your childhood bedroom. You haven’t gone inside since you moved in, but the door is slightly ajar.

You place your palm on the door and push it open gently and he’s there, looking at the things on top of your dresser. Everything is covered in dust, your bedding, once bright pink, now faded into a muted rose color. He appears even bigger than you remembered, but maybe it’s the children's furniture in the room, making him look like a giant. You look around, but you can't recall the memories of you being there. Dolls and toys stuffed into baskets in one corner, books of fairytales stacked on the shelves along with framed family photos. It feels strange that once it was your home, that once you even had a home. That you had a family.

He sets down a framed photo on top of your old dresser. It's a photo of you and a dog, you can tell that much in the dark, but you have no idea where it was taken. He turns to look at you.

“His name was Mercy,” he says with a faint smile on his face, “He belonged to an old couple, who lived next door when–”

“When Sarah was still alive?”, you ask. You don't quite meet his eyes, you look at the soft leather of his jacket instead.

“Yes, when Sarah was still alive,” he repeats and takes a step closer, “Before your dad murdered her,” he adds, voice turning cold as ice.

“That's not how–”, you start, but he interrupts.

“Oh, please!”, he laughs, “You are not a child anymore to believe every tale you are told. He murdered her in cold blood and he was planning to murder me too – all for his business to make more money.”

This is the first time your eyes linger on him. He is handsome, very handsome. His side profile is lit by the moon, making him look like a Greek god. His graying curls disheveled on the top of his head that he probably ruffled it after taking off his helmet. He has a permanent scowl frozen to his face, you wonder if the deep line ever disappears from in between his brows.

“I understand your pain,” you say simply, “I've lost people too, you know?” You chuckle darkly, “Killing me would bring you nothing. If you kill me, what would you have left in this world?”

“You understand nothing,” he says, voice laced with anger. He moves fast then, grabbing the knife tucked in his belt and he’s towering over you in an instant.

“Then explain it to me,” you whisper.

“Explain,” he repeats, “I wish I could explain sweetheart, but your father did the unexplainable.” 

“Sam said she was kidnapped by another gang,” you say.

“Kidnapped, yes, but not by another gang. She was kidnapped by your dad, because I didn’t want to follow his orders. I wanted out, but he wouldn’t let me. So he took the only thing that mattered to me,” he says bitterly.

The truth hits you like a slap on the face. You cast your eyes down on the dusty wood below your feet, trying to stop your tears from falling. You look at his left hand still holding the knife. Your head feels dizzy. You lean on the wall behind you, the gun in the back of your skirt squishing into your flesh. You reach behind to take it out and place it on the desk next to you.

“Do it,” you say. You grab his hand that clutches the knife and point it just above your heart. His calloused hands are warm in your palms, you squeeze them harder. “Do it,” you whisper again, “If this is what we need to leave this all behind then do it.

He stares at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of fear. But you are not afraid anymore. If this is the end, so be it.

“I'm not afraid of dying," you say, your voice steady, "But killing me won't undo the past. It won't bring back Sarah, and it won't erase the pain." You close your eyes, waiting for the sharp pain that never comes. You pull your hand away from his, the knife slipping from his fingers and clattering onto the floor.

He is fast then, squatting down to grab the knife as long fingers curl around the handle, but he doesn’t stand up. He stays on his knees, pointing the knife to your left thigh as his other hand grips the flesh of your right thigh.

As if you are looking at yourselves from the outside, you see his hand move, the blade penetrating your skin as blood bubbles up to the surface. The cut is not deep, you don't feel pain just yet. You stay frozen in place, and you do nothing to stop him.

He pulls his hand away then, dropping the knife to the floor and places his hand over the wound; your blood seeping through his fingers. 

“Fuck,” he breathes. He presses on your thigh, trying to stop the bleeding, but he just smears it across your skin as it soaks the skirt of your uniform, pink fabric turning crimson.

He grabs your thigh with his other hand as well. You feel hot, but it has nothing to do with the injury. He leans his head on your stomach and you can hear his deep breaths, feel the warmth of them through your blouse.

“I'm sorry, baby,” he breathes, ”I'm so sorry.” 

Your hands move of their own volition, your fingers tangling in his graying curls. He lets out a deep breath at that, like someone who hasn't been touched for a long time, and you think that's most probably the case. He turns his head and places a kiss on your stomach through your uniform. Something twists in your stomach at the feeling, something that you have buried deep inside, something you have never even dared to feel. Not through your teenage years or after when you lived in Austin, working in Red Rose. You want Joel. You need him, right then and there, leaned upon your childhood bedroom wall.

“I'm so sorry,” he whispers again, but you are not sure anymore why he is apologizing. He moves his head placing small kisses along your torso down to your left thigh, where he cut you.

He places kisses around the cut, it's almost stopped bleeding now, but his scruff is painted with your blood.

He slides his hands on the side of your thighs, smearing blood there too, lifting up your skirt. His mouth never leaves your left thigh, now peppering kisses closer to your center, murmuring sorries after every kiss.

“Stop,” you say.

He lifts his head to look at you, “You want me to stop?”, he asks, still grabbing your thighs.

“I want you to stop saying sorry,” you say, voice breathy.

“So you want me to keep going?”, he asks, still looking up at you. You nod.

He moves his mouth back on your thigh, but he doesn't do anything more. “Let me hear it, okay, baby girl? Tell me.”

“Keep going. Please,” you whisper, almost pleading.

“Okay, baby,” he says and moves his fingers to the crease of your underwear, caressing the sensitive skin there. You feel your arousal dripping out of you, wetting the soft fabric of your underwear. His mouth starts moving on your thigh again, licking up your drying blood, smearing it all over your skin and his. His teeth scraping your thighs, dull fingernails digging into your flesh. 

You let out a whine as his teeth touch your cut, but it's more from pleasure than pain. Your hips move on their own, chasing more of his touch. You want him to have all of you. His fingers move to slide your underwear away, long fingers stroking soft curls. He pulls his head back then, and you try to pull him back towards your center where you need him most.

“I wanna see you,” he whispers, and your grip in his hair loosens. 

He looks at you with burning intensity, taking in all he can in the dim light of the night. “Beautiful,” he groans, almost pained, as he digs his nose into your curls, “Smells perfect too,” opening his mouth over your mound as if he’s trying to devour all of you.

“Mhm, can’t wait to have a taste,” he murmurs into your skin.

“Please Joel,” you say and try to open your legs wider for him, “Please.”

“So impatient,” he chuckles and moves his fingers over your folds. “So ready for me. Is this all for me, darlin’?”, he asks and lifts his fingers to show you your arousal mixed with your blood. The sight of it makes something in your stomach pull tighter.

“Yeah,” you say in a breathy voice, “It’s all for you, I’m all for you, you can have all of me.” You want to feel him even closer, you want him to make you his. You need to feel him want you. All of you.

He moves his fingers back to your folds, teasing the soft skin again. His fingers stop over your entrance and you can feel him slowly insert a finger into you while he locks eyes with you. Your lips fall open and you let out a soft moan.

“That's it baby,” he says and uses his other hand to lift your thigh over his shoulder. He does not move his finger in you, but as you open up for him he uses his other fingers to spread you wider. “You need another,” he whispers and inserts another one of his fingers next to the first one. He grunts watching his fingers spread you open.

“Now a taste,” he says and licks up from your opening up to your clit, flattening his tongue as he reaches your aching bundle, drawing circles, making your walls tighten around his fingers. He moves back to your hole then, lapping up all the arousal that trickles out of you around his fingers, and you can feel his soft groans vibrating against your pussy. He returns to your clit, licking and sucking, but his fingers still don't move, it’s like he’s keeping them still inside you just to observe all your reactions to his lips and tongue more closely. 

The room fills with the lewd sounds emitting from your chest and his occasional grunts. You feel yourself hovering on the edge of the ultimate pleasure, but Joel is in no rush. He’s devouring you just to enjoy your taste in his mouth, to feel the grip of your walls, to hear your sounds of pleasure, as you grind on his fingers, trying to chase your own pleasure.

“Not yet, baby, let me enjoy you,” he says, placing his other hand on your stomach, pinning you to the wall. Your muscles are tense in your whole body, but you feel completely weak at the same time. You are so close to your climax, but each time you near the edge, he pulls back, moving his mouth to pepper small kisses over your mound and on the crease of your thighs.

“Please, Joel, can’t anymore,” you whine, trying to move his head back to your aching core. “Please,” you plead again.

“Okay, baby girl, cum for me,” he murmurs as he returns to your clit, sucking it in his mouth while he curls his fingers inside you, having no trouble finding your most sensitive spot, sending you over the edge in an instant. Hot white pleasure blurring your vision, you feel yourself gushing all over his fingers, your walls gripping him and pulling him deeper. You can hear your blood rushing in your veins, his voice muffled from below; that's it, beautiful, you are doing so good baby. You can feel your knees weaken, your whole body going limp as the tension releases. 

He removes your leg from his shoulder and steadies you with his hands over your hips. He stands up and takes your hand walking you out to the bathroom. “Sit,” he says, pointing to the edge of the bathtub. You sit, needing to grab the edge of the tub to steady yourself, still dizzy from your orgasm.

He washes his face first and hands first. Your eyes follow the crimson streaks disappearing into the drain. He takes a cloth, wets it in the sink then kneels in front of you and slowly cleans the blood from you. Your eyes follow his hands, moving slowly and carefully over your soft skin. Your gaze darts at his pants then, his arousal evident, the hard shape of his length clearly visible through his jeans. You swallow, feeling the blood rush to your face. He notices and looks at you questioningly, but then continues to clean you.

Once he is satisfied, he stands again, opening some drawers, checking your cabinet, collecting a bottle of antiseptic and some gauze. He carefully applies the antiseptic and then dresses your wound, applying the gaze around your thigh and tucking in the end once he is finished.

He stands up then offers you his hand. You reach your hand, but instead of placing it in his palm, you stroke the front of his jeans, over his bulge.

“Let me–”, you whisper, but he brushes your hand away.

“No,” he says, voice cold and distant again. He looks at you, and you can’t find the man in his eyes you just saw minutes ago. “You should go to sleep,” he says, turning on his heels, leaving you in the bathroom with tears collecting in your eyes.

You are not sure how long you sit there, but you can hear his bike’s engine revving to life outside, leaving you alone with your heavy thoughts.

--

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are much appreciated.

the lovelies who asked to be tagged: @spacecatbowtie, @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog, @joeldjarin

@pedrostories

[cuntdestroyer3000]

AHHHHHHH IMMA GET EMOTIONALLLL I CANT😭😭😭 the angst and emotional depth of the raider Joel series is my favorite. I love how not only has she developed feelings for him but he’s also developed them for her :3

what do you think would happen if sweet pea found out from carter that joel's birthday is coming up? <3

raider!Joel x f! reader. angst and fluff

He would tell her Joel doesn't like to celebrate. It being outbreak day, she doesn't wonder if there's more to it. She wants to honor him. She tries really hard to think of something, find something. Nothing seems special enough. She never gets anything, and she feels awful about it.

You wake up on Joel's birthday, empty-handed. You're sniffling in his arms, little spoon as usual, and soon a tear is running down your cheek and onto his bicep. "Mm," he grunts in his sleep. You keep sniffling. "Sweet pea," he mumbles and pulls you closer.

By the time he really wakes up, you're ugly crying into his arm. It turns him on. He touches your face, catches your tears and thumbs your lips, then slowly ruts into you. You wipe your face and get up to move. He turns over on his back to watch you. You straddle his knees, bend forward, and you're just about to suck him when he lays a hand on your head and asks, "you okay, baby?" You start crying again, harder. "C'mere." He pats his chest. You settle in with your head on his chest, tears in his chest hair.

Your voice is broken. "I know it's your birthday." His chest slowly expands under your cheek. "I didn't get you anything. I really wanted to. I couldn't think of anything good enough, I wanted to give you something really special." Your crying becomes more vocal. "And I don't have anything for you."

He pets your head and allows some silence, then answers, "that's cause I got everything I need." He kisses the crown of your head. After some time of soothing you and thinking, he starts, "you," and his voice is tighter. He clears his throat. You pull back to so look up at him. It's a face you're not sure you've ever seen on him. His brows are furrowed, and there's the slightest fogginess in his eyes. He swallows, looks away for a moment, takes a deep breath through his nose, then locks in on your eyes. His deep voice is barely above a whisper. "you've given me a lot, sweet pea."

[strang3lov3]

Lie to Me

Joel catches you red handed (3.7k)

Tags- dark!joel, i think we should call him darkdaddy!joel all in favor say aye, one shot, smut, dubcon, just the tip, oral sex (f! receiving) fingering, come shot, comeplay, overstim, handjob, coercion, masturbation, daddy kink, innocence kink, inexperienced/virgin!reader, biiiig girthy yet unspecified (legal☝️) age gap, weird feelings and some good ol' fashioned shame, hitting, implied abuse, Joel is fatherly in a hot and disgusting way, calls himself 'your old man', gratuitous use of the nicknames kiddo and pumpkin, Depeche Mode references because you can’t stop me. Balanced mix of Joel being mean and tender.

A/N - been a while since we’ve seen this guy, huh? Everyone give him your warmest welcome <3 i wanted to warm up with him before getting started on this joel's whole story so, here it is. and I am FINALLY done with this semester, so for about a month you’re gonna get a heavy fucking dose of strang3lov3. Apologies in advance. @endlessthxxghts, you know what you did you sick fuck. thank youuuuuu ♡ and thank you @beefrobeefcal for your eyes!

The warm bath Joel gives you each night is your favorite part of the day. Always. Washing it all away, both the good and the bad. All that dirt swirling down the drain. The delicate soap, the tingling when the water is a little too hot. Bath time is quiet. Joel doesn’t talk much, and neither do you. And he’s gentle, gentle as he washes you. Tender hands rubbing your skin, mindful of the bruises and contusions and the scratches and scrapes he leaves you. He tells you he doesn’t like to hurt you, but that you leave him no choice when you disobey the way you do. 

After helping you out of the tub, Joel thoroughly dries you off with a clean yellow towel. He’s a little rough as he does it, rubbing your skin too hard, tugging at your hair as he squeezes out the water. “Joel,” you whine. 

“I know, I know. M’tryin’ to be gentle,” he says. “You’re tender-headed. Makes my job difficult.”

“You always call me difficult.”

“‘Cause you are difficult, pumpkin. Challenging. Got my work cut out with you.”

You shiver when Joel hangs your towel back up. He unscrews the lid of a container of lotion, scooping out a generous amount. He rubs the cold cream into your skin, up and down your arms and legs. You’re not such a big fan of this part. “It’s cold, Daddy.”

“Sorry, kid. Nothin’ much I can do about that,” Joel replies.  

“Could warm it in your hands.”

Joel eyes you, brow raised. You’re testing him. He knows to expect it, you pushing his buttons. “And you could grow some thicker skin.” 

After moisturizing your skin, Joel reaches in the cabinet for a tube antibiotic cream and dabs a bit on each of your wounds, rubbing the ointment in. “Yeah…they’re healin’ up good,” he murmurs. “Be gone in no time. Alright now, sweetheart. Bedtime.”

Joel lightly swats your ass and sends you to your room, following closely behind you. His knees crack more frequently with his steps, fuck, he’s getting old. 

You bounce on the bed as Joel opens a drawer of your dresser, pulling out different pajama sets. “Let’s see what we got here,” Joel says, more to himself than to you. He shows you both options, “Blue stripes or green plaid.”

“That’s not green,” you point out, “That’s teal.”

“Mm. Clever, smartass. Now pick.”

“Neither. I wanna wear one of your shirts.”

Trouble. You know exactly which strings to pull with Joel wrapped around your finger. He rolls his eyes, biting down on a smile as he puts both pajama sets in your dresser and leaves to fetch you one of his t-shirts. “Arms up,” he tells you as he returns. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

Joel pulls the shirt over your head, the fabric covering just enough of your body to keep you decent. You pull back the quilt on your bed and slip under it, and wrap a plush blanket around your shoulders. 

“Scoot.” Joel sits right next to you, the springs of the bed groaning and creaking with his weight. “God dammit,” he hisses, adjusting for his sore back. Joel reaches into his shirt pocket and pulls out his slightly crooked reading glasses to put them on, annoyed at the way they never sit quite right on his face. He runs a hand through his graying curls, then turns on your lamp and reaches for the book he’s been reading you. He uses the dog-eared page to find his place in the book, something that makes you cringe. “I don’t like when you do that,” you tell him. 

“Do what?”

“Fold the pages.”

“You sound like the librarian,” Joel jokes. “Why don’t I find you some paints or somethin’ and you make me a pretty bookmark then, deal?”

“Deal.”

“Whatcha gonna paint for me?” Joel waits for your response, peering down at you as he pushes a bit of hair out of your face. “Don’t know yet?”

“Mm-mm.”

“S’okay. You got time to decide.”

Joel begins reading to you, making sure you’re following along with him. You rest your head on his strong bicep, your hands wrapped around his forearm. You trace the veins there, counting the scars and marks on his skin. His hands are so weathered and large. 

When Joel finishes the chapter, he closes the book, this time putting a penny between the pages to hold his place instead of folding the corners down. “We’ll read more tomorrow. Maybe watch a movie instead,” he offers. Joel puts his massive, warm hand against your cheek and pulls your head towards him, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then both of your cheeks, then the tip of your nose. “Get some sleep, pumpkin.”

Joel leaves then, shutting your door but not before turning on your nightlight. You miss his warmth immediately, the weight of him on the bed with you. He didn’t make you finish tonight, either. You’re sort of…itching for it, like you didn’t know how much you need it until now that it’s out of reach. 

You’re not supposed to do it on your own. Joel says you don’t know what you’re doing, that only he can touch you there, be it his fingers or his tongue. But you’ve touched yourself there on your own before, and it felt good. Not as good when Joel does it, but almost the same. 

You spread your legs wide, your hand going straight for your clit only for a moment, then bringing your fingers to your mouth to spit on them, just how Joel does. You reach for your pussy again, rubbing tight circles into your clit. 

It feels okay. Fine. You close your eyes, focusing on the small amount of pleasure you feel. Picturing things you find erotic, like the romance books you read in without Joel’s knowledge or Uncle Tommy, Joel’s brother. It makes you feel a little guilty to fantasize about him like this, but it feels thrilling, too. A special, private secret only you know about. 

You hold your breath as you work yourself, alternating between clockwise and counterclockwise circles in an attempt to determine which way feels better. Which direction does Joel do it? You spread your legs wider, testing out bigger and smaller circles. It’s been maybe five minutes maximum, and you’re feeling impatient. That’s another thing Joel tells you that you are, along with being difficult. Impatient. Stubborn, too. 

Joel pushes his fingers inside you when he makes you come, so you try doing that to yourself. Nothing much happens when you do it, sort of like when you try to tickle yourself. Your fingers aren’t as thick, as long, as deft as Joel’s are. But you try all the same. 

Whining, whimpering Joel’s name, the squeaking of the bed while you rock your hips into your own hand, Joel hears it all on the baby monitor hidden in your room. Broken moans in the crackling static. 

He’s only curious, wanting to measure your self control, if you even have any. You know you’re not supposed to be doing this and yet, you’re doing it anyway. Defiant. He gives you an inch and you take a mile, every single time. Always touching what’s forbidden to you, be it the handle of a door left unlocked or your own cunt. 

Maybe he’s gone soft. Maybe Joel’s too easy on you. He doesn’t like to punish you, but what else can he do when you leave him no choice? 

In truth, Joel likes this about you. It’s the thrill of the hunt, the game. And when his fingers are inside you, despite all that whimpering and crying, what’s really there? Arousal pooled at your entrance, twitching thighs and moans you do your very best to swallow. You’re all bark, no bite. You like it this way. His way. You just need a little guidance. 

Joel listens to you fuck yourself on your fingers for a little while longer, palm pressed against his bulge as your frustrated noises pour in through that tinny speaker. He understands, truly. Can’t sleep without orgasming - he can’t either, for fuck’s sake. He’ll be listening to you all night if he doesn’t make you come soon. And therein lies the problem - Joel gives in too much. He’s spoiled you rotten. 

Joel gets up and out of bed, takes heavy steps toward your bedroom. He can practically see you behind that oak door even before opening it - legs spread beneath the quilt, brow pinched together as you huff and pant in both frustration and focus. 

Joel twists your door knob slowly, and silently pushes the door in. He takes the quietest of steps toward your bed, standing above you with his arms crossed over his chest as he stares down at you. You look just as wrecked as he predicted. 

“Psst.” 

You freeze, eyelids flying open to see Joel glaring at you in the dark, his features harsh under the lack of light. You quickly move your hand-

“Nuh-uh, don’t you move,” Joel interrupts. “What’re you doin’ up so late? S’well fuckin’ past your bedtime, young lady.” 

“I’m not-”

“Think it through. You really wanna lie to me? Even after what happened to ya the last time you pulled that shit?”

Your cheeks heat up, your hands shaking. “I’m…uh…” your voice wobbles, you swallow thickly. 

“Spit it out.” 

“I’m touching myself.”

“I see that,” is all Joel replies. A silence hangs as you wait for him to continue. The ticking clock sounds louder, the groaning wind against your window. “But you know you ain’t s’posed to be doin’ yourself, kiddo. We talked about this. S’the rules, right?”

“Right,” you whisper. 

Joel nods, biting his inner cheek as he sits down on your bed, holding one of your feet through the quilt. “You’ve got quite the tendency of disobeying your daddy, you know. What’m I gonna do with you?”

You shrug and turn away from him to avoid his disappointed expression. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I just thought you forgot to make me come tonight, daddy, but I needed it. Please don’t be mad at me right now. I’m really sorry.” 

Your apology tugs at Joel’s heartstrings. “Got me wrapped around your fuckin’ finger,” he groans, rubbing his large hand up and down your leg. “You win, kid. I’ll let it slide. But you promise me it won’t happen again, ‘cause I don’t like havin’ to punish you.”   

“I promise.”

“Attagirl,” Joel whispers, smiling at you. He leans forward to press a kiss against your forehead, his wiry facial hair both scratches and tickles your skin. “Alright, now. Let’s see what you’re workin’ with,” he says, folding your quilt down your torso, and bunching it at the end of your bed. “Sounded like you were havin’ trouble, hm? S’that right?”

Joel doesn’t have to wait for your answer to know the truth. He pulls your hands away from your center, fingertips pruned and slick with your arousal. “Oh, pumpkin,” he tsks. “Look at the mess you made.” 

He spreads your legs far apart and sits between them, then licks one of his thumbs and brings it to your core. He slides the digit up and down your folds, circling your clit here and there. “Joel,” you whine breathlessly. 

“I know, I know, I know. Poor thing. You’re all outta sorts, huh?” he coos. “Gimme your hand. You don’t know what you’re doin’ at all.”

You hold your hand in front of yourself. Joel takes it, sucking on your fingers, growling at the taste of your wet before lowering it to your pussy. “Gotta give her a bit of finesse,” Joel instructs, dragging your fingers up and down your folds, just how he did with his own fingers. “Can’t dive right in. Gotta work up to it. See?” 

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Am I doing it right? Like?”

“Yeah, jus’ like that. Give her a lil’ more, now. Rub that clit. Gentle, steady,” he directs, helping you to touch yourself. It fills him with a primal sort of power, being able to instruct you how to best touch yourself, knowing you’ll never be able to replicate his perfection. “Nice an’ slow, now. That’s it. Nope, slow it down,” he reminds you. 

You whine his name, frustrated with how long this is taking. “It’s not - it’s not working.”

“Easy, sweetheart, I know you’re hurtin’. M’only tryin’ to help,” he says. “Gotta work on that attitude.”

You speed up your ministrations, frantically chasing a release that is painfully out of reach. Joel swats your bare thigh, a warning. “Gotta breathe,” Joel advises you. “Can’t force it. Let it come to ya.”

“I’m try-”

“I know you’re tryin’.”

Your tummy rises and falls with your uneven breaths, fingers slipping on your wet heat. You can’t seem to find the right pace to rock your hips at, and you’re biting your lips raw to conceal the words threatening to spill that Joel doesn’t let you speak. 

“Alright, enough of that.” Joel pushes your hand away, and you cry in frustration. “You’re hurtin’ her. Daddy’s gonna take care of this now,” he whispers more to himself than to you, lowering his body. His hot breath fans over your slick cunt as he puts both of his wide, meaty hands on the backs of your thighs, opening you up wide for him. Poor fucking pussy, all swollen and throbbing and aching. Joel swallows hard and presses his lips against your folds, mumbling, “Gonna kiss her all better,” he says.

He begins with kisses, kissing your lips, nipping at your inner thighs. You’re dripping, leaving a puddle of arousal on the sheets. Joel can feel the heat radiating from your sex, how you vibrate with a need only Joel can satisfy. He squeezes the generous flesh of your thighs with his fingertips harshly, just shy of bruising you. Though he could, if he wanted to. But he is curious what your skin looks like unblemished by his violence. 

With a flattened tongue, Joel licks a long stripe from the bottom of your slit right to the top, rounding your clit before repeating the action. The room is quiet, save for the way Joel breathes steadily in and out of his nose that’s pressed against you, teasing you. And your quiet moans, sweet little whimpering noises spilling from your lips with every exhale. 

Joel circles your entrance all wet and sloppily, taking care to press a couple of more kisses against your folds before dipping his tongue inside you, tasting your arousal from the hole it drips from. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whisper. 

“Hey.” he swats your ass cheek. “Is that how good girls are s’posed to use their mouths? Hm?”

“No, daddy.”

“Uh-huh. ‘Cause those pretty lips of yours are for kissin’ daddy’s cock. Right?” 

“R- yeah. M’sorry.”

After chastising you for swearing, Joel dives right back in. Your hands find Joel’s scalp so you can tug on his hair, twirling your fingers around those silvery curls. The action makes Joel smile. God, your innocence. 

He licks at your slick folds, sucking one into your mouth and then the other, neglecting the little part of you that needs him the most. He savors you like this, the scent of your musk, your arousal like honey on his tongue. When you’ve soaked his face, when your thighs are twitching under his wide palms, only then does Joel circle your clit. You shake and shudder, muscles straining under Joel’s grip as he forces you to stay wide open to eat the most sensitive piece of you. You’re dripping wet, clit throbbing and pulsing under his tongue. “Focus right here, pumpkin,” he murmurs, reaching up to grab your chin and tilt your face down. “Daddy wants to see his favorite eyes.” 

Once you nod, Joel lets his hand trail back down your body. Instead of using it to hold you open, he turns his head to the side and brings two calloused fingers to his mouth, soaking them in his saliva before pushing them into your entrance. He curls them against the spongy spot inside you, its location is committed to his memory. You dance on his tongue, squirming and whining and writhing as he works you with his fingers. Joel pulling your strings, watching how you move. You’ll do anything.

“Yeah, daddy’s fingers do it better, huh?” he taunts. “Poor girl.”

God, it’s hard for Joel to eat you in the way he knows he should. It’s meant to be an act of love and it certainly is in some ways, sure it is. But really, it’s all for Joel. It’s all selfish, voraciously consuming you like you’re the first meal he’s seen in days, biting at your flesh like he means to tear it off the bone. His tongue laves over your sex, wiry beard rubbing your inner thighs raw - he’ll put ointment on your skin there, too, to calm down the irritation. 

He strokes that sweet spot inside of you with his fingers, pleasure building quickly. It blooms deep in your gut, roiling up your spine and down your legs. “Oh, Joel,” you moan, babbling incoherently. “Oh, f- oh…” 

The wet, sticky noises as you’re kissed, licked, sucked, lapped at, teased, stroked. The quiet as release approaches - holding your breath, muscles tightening, a pressure building. And then oh, there it is, there you are. Coming on Joel’s tongue, gushing into his hand. 

Joel licks his palm, then sits back up. He sets your feet back down on the bed, mindful of your achy thighs. Your moans have quieted, replaced with peaceful breaths as you lie with your eyes closed. “Nuh-uh, I ain’t finished with you quite yet,” Joel says, lightly smacking your cheek to wake you up. “You know the drill. You get yours and daddy gets his.”

Slotted between your legs, Joel kneels then, knees cracking as they press into the plush of your mattress. He pulls the string of his worn-out pajama pants and pushes the waistband down, and his hard cock lands against his tummy with a smack. “Gimme a hand, pumpkin,” he says, and you hold out your hand for him. He spits into your palm, then wraps your fingers around his thick shaft. “All the way up an’ all the down,” he reminds you. “Jus’ like I showed ya.”

Joel leans over you as you begin stroking him, gliding your palm up and down his length. 

“Tighter,” he says, reaching between your bodies to squeeze your hand tight. He keeps his hand there as you work him, keeping the pressure to his liking. “Attagirl.”

He works a twist into the motion now, bucking his hips into your hand. You admire the look of his soft tummy, the gray and white hairs smattered around the base of his cock. Joel’s cock pulses under your touch, in time with his beating heart. Tip red and swollen, aching for more, more…

Joel presses his forehead against yours and drops lower, taking control of the moment. With your hand still under his and holding his stiff length, Joel guides the tip of himself to your slit. He groans when the head meets your pussy, the warmth and the wetness. He lowers himself, the end of his cock prodding right at your entrance. “I think you’re ready for it,” he tells you, notching the tip inside. 

Your heart pounds, and you put a hand against Joel’s chest. “N-no, not yet, daddy.” 

“Toughen up, kid,” he urges, pushing in a little bit further, then pulling it out again. “Gotta rip that bandaid off sometime. Gonna let me do it?” Joel taunts you with the threat of fully penetrating you, dragging the tip of his cock up and down your folds, fitting it inside your tight entrance before pulling it out again. “On three. One, two…”

You shake your head.

Joel sighs deeply. “You’re breakin’ your daddy’s heart, pumpkin. I hope you know that.”

But it doesn’t change your mind. Joel tsks, then goes right back to fucking the head of his cock on your vulva. He focuses less on getting himself off, but rather getting you off again. Rubbing the blunt head of his cock against your still-sensitive clit, tapping it momentarily before rubbing it in the opposite direction. 

You breathe heavily and shakily, “T-too much,” you say. 

“Y’wanted to come bad enough you broke the rules for it,” Joel replies in a calm voice. “You’re givin’ me another, jus’ like this, and you’re gonna say ‘thank you, daddy’ when it’s over.”

He pushes his pelvis forward and resumes teasing your clit, moving the head of his cock in circles around your clit, causing you to twitch at the sensation. A quick dip inside your cunt and then he’s doing it again, but rubbing left to right. Like the good girl you are, you rock your hips in time with his movements, moaning as the pleasure builds once more. Joel coaxes one last orgasm from you, leaving you a twitching, throbbing mess. “What do you say?”

“Thank you, daddy,” you whisper. 

Joel kisses your forehead and allows you to relax on the pillows as he works himself, still using your hand. He breathes heavily, grunting and groaning as he quickens the way he pumps himself, thumb swiping over the head and the underside of his cock where he’s most sensitive. The pressure builds deep in his gut, just as it did yours, and his balls tighten. His brows knit together and he grits his teeth as he comes, growling as he paints his spend onto your sex. “Oh, Christ. Goddamn, fuck. Yeah,” he breathes, gathering his come onto the tip of his cock, then pushes it inside you before he softens. “You’re a good kid,” he tells you. “Good girl. Good girl, pumpkin.”

-

more dark daddy!joel here

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Kitty gifs instead of pics for you today I hope that’s allowed 🥹