#mean joel miller Tumblr posts

[penvisions]

gone to the dogs {chapter one}

Pairing: Boston QZ! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: Bared teeth and instincts are all you have to defend yourself while out beyond the walls of the zone. And sometimes, you have Joel Miller, though he's just as apt to turn on you as anyone else.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, canon typical gore, outbreak fic, age gap (only by about ten years), dark fic, dark joel miller, mean joel miller, joel miller is uptight, degrading language, sexual language, sexual proposition, violence, heated interactions, adult language, fighting, references to injuries, blood, one (1) instance of joel miller bashing someone's head in, gun use, gun violence, reader chokes someone out, reader is snarky, reader meets joel toe-to-toe with insults and it's amazing both reader and joel pov, lemme know if there are any i missed!

A/N: this is different by far than anything else i've written and shared. dark joel miller content tends to be so controversial sometimes but i've been wanting to explore this part of his character for quite a while. the reader insert is also far more...robust than any i've written but it's all so exciting! please lemme know what y'all think?

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The tracks are faint, you’re barely able to make them out yourself as you crouch low to the ground and move your hand in the direction they look like they’re headed in.

“Hey, you missed somethin’.”

“The hell you talking about, there ain’t nothin’ to miss.” He’s suddenly hovering over you, his own footfalls silent despite the pain you know he carries in his back and the swagger he has to adapt to not irritate it. He’s shining his flashlight on the imprint you had managed to find among all the dirt and rubble, a barely there scrape in the dirt that could be mistaken for anything. His voice is harsh, degrading in tone as he scoffs at your find. “You didn’t find shit, stop trying to make somethin’ outta nothin’.”

“Yeah and I suppose the marks that look about the same depth and span out in an even trail heading north ain’t shit either, huh?” You ignore the heat of his legs clad in faded and dirt smeared denim far too close for comfort. It would be easy to brush against them if you turned just slightly. Straitening back up to your full height, you don’t step back as you aim your own light over the similar marks that lead down a narrow path between the scattered and broken bricks. “It’s someone’s staggered gait, would bet they twisted their ankle or knee and it’s dragging enough to leave ‘em behind for us. Need to trust the younger pair of eyes we’ve got out here.”

“Don’t mean it’s our guy.” Joel doesn’t budge, ignoring the double whammy insult, head turning back at the hush of wind sweeping between the crumbling buildings. He turns his light off, securing it between his belt and waistband on the back of his hip. You know he knows there’s some truth to your words with how he ignores them. A habit of his you picked up, silence in the wake of begrudging agreement. Never voiced lest someone overhear that he had his moments of amenable tendencies, even if they were very rare and far between.

“Could be.” You insist, you knew what you were doing. You knew how to get the damn job done and if he heeded your words even once, he would realize it could make the situation go a whole lot smoother than it had been. But of course he doesn’t, he’s as stubborn as you are. Something you loathe about the man who had become one of your partners. It was hard to trust him when he didn’t trust you, constantly at odds with the gruff way he insisted he knew better. It was beginning to get on your nerves, the days harder when you had to interact with him in such close proximity.

“Could be isn’t good enough.”

“Do you need a blowjob or something?” You turn slightly to face him, his strong profile highlighted by the dark golden hues of the setting sun.

“Excuse me?" He pinned you with a dark glare, not taking kindly to your question. He’s chest to chest with you now, hard expression aimed down at you as you don’t move an inch. You wouldn’t back down, never had before and wouldn’t now. He may be intimidating, but you were too in your own ways. Hell, the first encounter you had with the man ended up with your knife at his throat and your knee over his crotch.

Him and Tess had been in your apartment, staking out the smuggling ‘competition’ once they had arrived in the Boston zone. Coming home from a rather painful migraine after shoveling ashes of deceased people had been one of the highlights of the day, if such a thing could even be considered that, only to find two strange people rummaging around through your things. Joel hadn’t been prepared for you to turn on him first, thinking he had hidden himself well in the shadow of your door and following it as you slowly closed it behind you.

A warning shot fired off at Tess had her scrambling behind the beat-up couch in the middle of the room while you turned on him. Only after demanding answers from them and getting them from the woman as she crouched behind the furniture, had you backed down from a stoic Joel.  

“You heard me. You're pent up and snapping at everyone, need some relief?" Tilting your chin up, you meet his dark gaze head on, smirk pulling your lips up on one side. His eyes dilate just the slightest bit before narrowing, but you caught it and he knows you did. His voice is the deepest you’ve ever heard as he slowly responds with only one syllable.

“No."

"I think you do. Don't think I haven't seen the way your eyes drag down my body when you're walking behind me.” A bold statement, but a true one nonetheless. His eyes were a heavy and heady weight whenever they did exactly what you taunted. The thrill of the older man merely looking at you when he thought you wouldn’t see it perked up your self-esteem in a way you weren’t completely immune to, even in the shambles of what the world had turned into.

"Delusional. you're a delusional little-“

"I’m not a little girl, and you damn well know that." You punch the tip of your pointer finger into his chest, the dirty denim warm from his body heat. He’s a big man with a big reputation and it’s hard not to feel powerful as you obviously found one of the weak spots of his soft underbelly. An attack dog, a guard dog, a rabid dog, they all had one thing in common. They were only as strongest as their weakest point.

And you think you just found his.

The mischief of the unexpected discovery must glint in your eyes because his brows furrow impossibly deeper. The frown lines around his mouth pulling his thick mustache down, though it does nothing to shield the pale pink of his full lips.

He scoffs again, a harsh sound from the depths of his chest. Smacking your hand away from him, he takes off to follow the trail he can see a little better now that you’ve pointed it out.

“Coulda fooled me.”

“Act like you’re hot shit around the zone, only reason people don’t mess with you is cause of me.”

“I was doin’ just fine on my own. Remind me again, who staked out who to scope out the competition?”

“Wouldn't let you touch me if I was at the end of a barrel, and it was my saving grace."

“Fuck off, Miller.” You spit back, unable to rise to his taunt even as you fall in line beside him. That one stung, you had to admit. It was your own stupid fault, for finding him so attractive. From his dark hair threaded with silver to the way he carried a lifetime on his shoulders.

But his attitude muddied it, he was no better than a lot of the men you had run into before reuniting with your brother. The end of the world bringing out the worst in people, just like you had never one to sling insults so harshly or tease people easily a decade older than yourself who could snap your neck with a well-placed grip. Just like you assumed the man Joel had been before all this wouldn’t have even dared to think of talking to a woman with such spite and malice, if his faded accent told you more than he ever would.

The trail ends just at the shattered glass of what was once a revolving door entrance to a skyscraper looms ahead. There’s fresh blood splatter and the bag of supplies stolen from where they had been hidden for you and Joel to pick up. Two shells from a gun lay on the ground beside it, and you quickly grip your handgun to survey the area for the culprit who fired the shots.

Joel holds up two fingers, your attention going to him almost instinctively as he motions for you to crouch and round the left side of what remains of the door and into the building after the drops of blood. His eyes are focused, his full lips a hard line as he nods once to make sure you understand him.

Only looking away once you return the gesture. He turns so his back is to yours and makes sure there’s enough coverage for you both with his own gun at the ready. As quietly as you can manage with what’s still hopefully inside the pack, you pick it up with your free hand and avoid as much glass as possible.

No shots ring out, no bullets lodge themselves into your shoulder or Joel’s, everything is eerily still as you both move in tandem to seek the protection of the building. It seems to be blocked off inside, large pieces of plywood secured over the doors that had once been for elevators. The emergency exit off the right barricaded with all the furniture that once filled the ground floor waiting area.

“Fuckin’ told you it was a trail.” You mumble as the conflict seems to be over, the body of the man who had taken off with your hidden pack behind the front desk. Fresh blood seeping from a gunshot wound to his neck and the bandage wrapped thick around his ankle. You don’t flinch when Joel brushes past you harshly to stomp the bottom of his worn boots into the man’s head or the sick crunch that echoes slightly in the open space. Ensuring he doesn’t turn if he had been infected.

He rounds on you quickly enough to stir your instincts, the fleeting fear of him doing the same to you flaring up and making you take a half step back at the fierce look in his eye. The words he practically growls at you making your heart stutter painfully in your chest, suddenly breathless at the combination.

“Would you shut your fuckin’ mouth before I shut it for you? Tired of hearing that shrill voice all the god damn time.”

You huff, trying to play off the fear as indifference, shoving the bag of supplies at him. He doesn’t move to catch it, allowing it to hit him square in the chest, the pills and bullets contained inside rattling as the entire thing fell to the ground with a thunk.

Joel could only watch as you stalked off without another word, shoulders tense and hands shoved deep in the pockets of your jacket. He had seen the dilation of your eyes, the way your chest had risen with a quick inhale at his intensity. He had scared you.

That was new and he wasn’t sure if he liked it any better than you teasing him about being uptight and needing a little bit of pleasure in his life. An unpleasant lump rises in his throat and he tries to swallow it down.

Frowning, he bends to pick up the fallen pack, shoving it into his own nearly empty one before following after you. The silence that had fallen allows him to pick up the faint sound of labored breathing. But it isn’t coming from you up ahead.

It must’ve registered as a third person in the same instant for you because you’re turning to him with a finger pressed to your lips as you crouch behind a chunk of blasted concrete, gun already in hand. He mirrors you, reflections of each other as you each move around the barrier and take an assessing peak around respective corners.

Another man is laid out a few yards away, upper body slumped heavily on against the tire of a rusted car.

He’s barely alive, his breath rattling in his chest at a timbre that could only signal his impending death. A stark sound he recalls from a time long ago, both painfully fresh and numbed by years of oppression. He blinks the sound away, eyes closed for barely a second before you’re closing the distance with quick and quiet movements. A lunging dog at the sight of a threat. Constantly poised to take out anything that challenged the life you clung to.

It’s a reminder of why he willingly works with you, the way your smaller hands close around the man’s neck and clench. Shoulders displaying the strength you possess even with rationed food and improper amenities for life. If he wasn’t on your side, you would turn those same hands on him without a second thought. You had the first time you had met, when he had willingly gone into the den you had created for yourself in search of answers. In search of the name people gave when asked about who had the most knowledge on how to sneak out of the zone he now resides in.

He watches as you pick the man’s corpse clean, ration cards going in your pocket that he doesn’t think to demand a fair share of. Of the gun you hold out to him in silent offer.

No words are exchanged as you lead him back to the perimeter of the zone as the sun dips completely below the horizon. Moonlight illuminating your body effortlessly slinking and squeezing into places you had picked out that would allow for him to do the same with little trouble. You knew the operations of the zone, hell you probably were the reason some of them were orchestrated the way they were. The fear he had seen in you may have been fleeting, a response that allowed you to recognize the threat he could pose to you as well, but the way he admired your will to survive was not.

You only stay at his side long enough to relay the run to Tess, who had stayed behind and worked to ensure an alibi for you both. Signing your names and hers with one of the soldiers who traded with you on the roster in a perfect imitation of keeping up appearances for the demanded duties of all that reside in the zone. The ration cards slid into your back pocket are handed off to the older woman, no words or sounds coming from you before you slink out the door to their shared excuse of an apartment and down the hall to yours.

But he knew better than to think it was with wounded pride and your tail tucked between your legs, because he could hear the way you moved about your own space through the thin walls as if it had just been another day. Tess is watching him as his head tilts where he slumps on the couch, ears following the shuffle of your steps and the sound of clinking as you go about your own business. When he turns to meet her gaze, it’s unreadable but she doesn’t ask the reason for his short run down of what happened or the silence you had fallen into.

next chapter

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[hauntedhowlett-writes]

Title: crimson red paint on my lips | part 1

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairing: Mean Smuggler!Joel Miller/Smuggler! Female Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Join the tag list

Summary:

Joel Miller is an asshole.

You should have known better than to show up at his door with your lips painted red.

Author’s Note: This is a considerably darker characterization than my other Joel fics. I’d be open to writing more like it, so let me know your thoughts! I’m also open to other requests 💕

Content Warnings/Additional Tags: explicit sexual content (18+), explicit language, mean mean mean Joel Miller, considerable age gap (25F and 56M), degradation, pet names (but mean), rough oral sex (m and f receiving), spitting, choking, crying, v fingering, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, begging, did i mention MEAN???, alcohol use, no aftercare. Let me know if any are missing!

You’ve been searching for more pills in a drugstore that had been well picked over, a wall blown out with glass and rubble everywhere, when you saw the little gold tube on the ground. At first, you thought it was a bullet casing. You’d seen plenty of those before.

But picking it up and dusting it off revealed a seam on the tube and when you pulled it, the top popped off to reveal the creamy red makeup inside.

At twenty-five, you spent most of your life in a QZ, but there are some things you have a hazy memory of from better days. Your mom, sitting at her makeup vanity as a five-year-old version of you looked up at her in awe as she swiped lipstick across her lips. Glossy magazine ads where the women had their mouths painted in a rainbow of shades.

You pocket the tube and continue on, eyes scanning every crevice for missed treasure. You do manage to find one bottle of oxycodone, a pretty big score.

You hear your name being called from the front of the store and you make your way back to the exit.

Joel Miller stands amongst the rubble, arms crossed and face frozen in his permanent scowl. Just the sight of him makes your heart skip a beat, and you know it shouldn’t. He’s much too old for you and just thinks of you as some dumb kid. He told Tess as much when she argued that you should come with them.

When you’re within arms reach, he wraps his broad hand around your bicep in a punishing grip. “Been callin’ for you. You need to pay attention.”

“Was just in the back, sorry,” you reply, wincing at the pinch of his fingers. “What’s wrong?”

“FEDRA agents, we gotta clear out.” He pokes his head around the corner of the building before slamming you back against the brick with his body, his hand slapping over your mouth to cut off your sound of surprise.

The front of his body is pressed tightly to yours and you stare up at him, eyes wide with fear. Heavy booted footsteps echo nearby, the tell tale sound of overconfident FEDRA agents that play gods amongst men. Joel brings a finger to his lips, a command to be quiet even though you can’t make a sound with his broad palm over your mouth.

His forehead tilts to yours as he reigns in his own labored breaths, his eyes falling shut. You shift against him, just slightly, surprised to feel a tell tale hardness pressing into your tummy. Your heart rate kicks up even higher, and it has nothing to do with your fear.

Joel’s jaw clenches and his eyes snap open, piercing you with a stare so cold it sends a shiver down your spine.

When Joel deems the area safe again, he rips his hand from your mouth, eyes dropping briefly to your lips before he turns and stomps away without another word, not bothering to make sure you’re following.

When the two of you meet up with Tess, you hand her the bottle of oxycodone.

“Excellent job, kiddo,” she says with a smile. “See, Joel? Told you she’d be worth it.”

He only grunts in reply, eyes fixed on the ground, and you feel your shoulders drop. You don’t know why, but you’re desperate to prove to him that you’re worthy.

Of what, you’re not sure.

You decide to keep the lipstick for yourself.

________

Joel nearly wanted to strangle Tess when she showed up with you standing at her shoulder. He knew the older woman had a soft spot for taking care of you and making sure you knew how to fend for yourself, ever since you’d turned up at the QZ as a transfer from another city five years ago, twenty-years old with the same haunted stare he recognizes in himself.

But all he can think about when he sees you is getting you on your knees or pressed beneath his body, the scent of sex and sound of your moans drowning out the atrocities beyond the walls of his shitty apartment.

He breaks out the whiskey he keeps for quieting the noise in his head, slamming back two shots of it in quick succession. There’s a tentative knock at his door and he stands with a groan.

Nothing could have prepared him to find you on the other side of the door, a low cut shirt and tight ass jeans holding in your curves. But perhaps the worst part is the crimson red paint on your lips.

He reaches out and grabs you by the shoulder, yanking you inside the apartment and slamming the door. You stumble slightly, surprised at the sudden rough movement, but Joel can’t find it in him to care.

“Are you fuckin’ stupid?” He snaps.

Your mouth drops open in surprise, your eyes wide as you struggle to find words to reply. He steps closer.

“You do know there’s monsters out there, right? Worse than runners, worse than clickers,” he snaps. “And don’t think any low life FEDRA agent would come runnin’ for help if you were screamin’ for it.”

“I-I don’t…I didn’t—“

He’s toe to toe with you now, like he can’t help but be sucked into your orbit. Your eyes are watery as you blink up at him and, god help his soul, he’s dying to see those tears run down your cheeks so he can chase their salty taste with his tongue.

“You didn’t what, sweetheart? Use that fuckin’ brain in your head to make a better decision than showin’ up on my doorstep painted like a goddamn whore?”

Your hand shoots up, aiming to land a slap across his cheek, but he sees it coming. He grabs your wrist, yanking at your arm until he’s got it pinned behind your back. He forces you forward until your cheek is pressed against the discolored wallpaper.

“Let me go,” you growl, struggling beneath him. “You think I’m so goddamn stupid, then let me leave, I’ll never bother you again you fuckin’ asshole.”

Joel laughs, the sound devoid of humor. “That’s where you’re wrong, darlin’. Because you’ll still be out there, lookin’ at me with those big innocent eyes of yours, beggin’ for attention.”

Your breath hitches, and he knows he’s struck a chord. He’s not dumb, he knows you’re desperate for his attention. He sees it in the way your shoulders drop when he walks by you without acknowledging you, or doesn’t include you in the conversation he’s having with Tess.

“Fuck you, Joel,” you snap.

“Oh, honey, I’d love to,” he teases. You go still beneath you. Slowly, he releases the hold he has on you, stepping back. You turn to face him. “Get on your knees. You want my attention so goddamn bad? Show me how much.”

________

Joel Miller is an asshole. You knew this, it’s been obvious in every encounter you’ve had with the older man, but you still showed up at his door.

He’s right. You are a fucking idiot.

But like the strings holding you up have been cut, you drop heavily to your knees, staring up at him for instruction. Your heart is beating out of your chest as he stares down at you with disdain.

“Take my cock out,” he commands. You bring unsteady hands to his belt, fumbling with the buckle. Finally, you free the clasp and rush to open his fly, tugging his jeans low enough to reach in and free his length from its denim confines.

You’re surprised to find it already so hard, the thick length already an angry dark red.

“Don’t just stare at it, princess. Open your mouth,” he says, hand gripping your jaw with bruising fingers as he forces your mouth open. “Tongue out.”

You stick your tongue out and he slaps the head of his cock on it, the action so lewd your face heats with a blush. He laughs, the sound cruel but your thighs clench regardless.

“Don’t get shy on me now, baby,” he says, voice low. He slides further into your mouth and you open wider to accommodate him. “Look at those pretty red lips stretched tight around my cock.”

He begins to thrust, shallow at first, before he picks up the pace, the tip hitting the back of your throat and making you gag. He only pulls back slightly, barely enough for any relief before pressing forward again.

You can feel the tears threatening to spill from the corners of your eyes. Joel withdraws from your mouth completely, allowing you the brief chance to heave in desperate gulps of air. He tilts your chin up and you look up at him from under tear filled lashes.

He drags a thumb from the corner of your eye, collecting the evidence of his harsh treatment and bringing it to his lips as his eyes stay locked with yours.

“You see that, baby?” He asks, nodding to his cock gripped in his hand. “See all that red on my cock? You did that with your little whore mouth.”

You can’t help the tiny whimper that claws its way out of your throat. He smiles, the visage wicked.

“Get on the couch.” You try to stand, but he halts your effort with a hand on your head. “I didn’t say you could stand.”

You blink at him, confused. He only lifts an eyebrow.

You shift forward, planting your hands in front of you, crawling slowly towards the couch. You can feel his eyes on your ass, the whole experience humiliating but you can feel the wetness soaking your panties.

You seat yourself on the couch, waiting for his next instruction. He kneels between your legs, hands finding the button of your jeans with a deftness you could never dream of having. He urges your hips off the cushions as he tears the denim and your panties down in one motion. Next, those confident fingers curl into the hem of your shirt and shove it up only enough to expose your breasts to his dark gaze.

He shifts closer, the broad expanse of his shoulders keeping your legs open as he uses his thumbs to spread your wet folds open to him. You can’t help but clench in anticipation.

“Look at your desperate little hole, clenchin’ around nothin’,” he teases. He purses his lips, spit landing on your heated core and making you arch in surprise, a moan leaving your lips. “Christ, you’re fuckin’ filthy.”

He drags a rough thumb over your clit in slow circles, the sensation all together too much and not enough. Then two of his fingers slide inside of you, a pinch of pain at the sudden intrusion making you whimper. He curls his fingers as he withdraws his hand.

“Joel,” you whisper, voice watery.

“Gonna have to do better than that,” he replies, repeating his motions, faster this time. Again and again his fingers slide into your body, skimming a part inside of you that turns you into a whimpering mess, writhing beneath him on the couch.

“Please, Joel,” you beg, voice louder with this plea.

“Please, what?”

“More,” you beg. A third finger, the stretch painful and glorious, slides into your heat. And as delicious as the filled feeling is, your clit is pulsing with need. “More,” you cry again.

“Don’t get greedy,” he snaps, punctuating his words with a harsh thrust of his fingers.

“Want your mouth, Joel, please?” You beg again.

“What makes you think a desperate little slut deserves my mouth?” He asks. God, he sounds so fucking mean but it just makes you tighten around him.

“I’ve been good, Joel,” you say, voice small. You whimper at another harsh thrust of his fingers. “Please.”

His lips wrap around your clit and he sucks the sensitive nub roughly. Combined with the scratch of his stubble on your inner thighs and the dark look in his eyes as he gazes up your body, the taut thread of your release snaps, you pussy fluttering around his fingers as he keeps up his rough pace until your hips are writhing from your overstimulation.

“Thought you said you were bein’ good,” Joel says as he sits back on his heels. “But good girls ask permission to cum.”

You feel your lower lip tremble slightly, eyes stinging with a fresh wave of tears. “I’m sorry.”

He stands, sitting down heavily on the couch, his cock slapping against his belly. He wraps an arm around your waist, dragging you like a rag doll until you’re in his lap, the warm heat of him sliding through your wetness making you shiver.

“Make me cum,” he says, smacking one of your ass cheeks roughly. “Now.”

You reach between your bodies, holding his cock steady as you position it at your entrance. You slide down with a gasp, the size of him still holding a bite of pain despite the way he’d worked your cunt.

“No more sittin’ still.”

________

Joel’s eyes are fixed where his body meets yours, watching the obscene slide of your tight cunt over his cock with rapt attention. You’re a goddamn mess all over, cheeks stained with tears and lipstick smudged across your lips and chin. Your slick skin slides against him when you grind down on him with a whimper.

“Faster,” he demands. Your hands grip his shoulders for stability as you pick up your pace, bouncing desperately on his dick. He slides a hand around your throat, squeezing the sides roughly. He can feel your pulse intensify against his fingers.

“That’s it, just like that,” he groans. “You sure make a pretty little toy, baby.”

He feels your moan against his hand, the sound music to his depraved mind as he begins to thrust up, meeting each of your downward movements with a harsh smack of his hips.

When he’s balancing on the edge of his release, he withdraws from your body, using that hold on your throat to keep you suspended over his lap, grabbing his cock in a punishing grip. He allows you to drop down onto his knees and you gasp, eyes wide as you look between your bodies and watch as he cums, hot and thick, across your lower belly.

You collapse against his chest, and Joel allows the brief contact while you catch your breath. After a moment, he taps your hip, urging you off of him.

When you’re sitting on the couch, he shoves himself back into his jeans before leaning down to grab your pants, tossing them to you. If you notice that your underwear is missing, you don’t say anything as you pull your pants on. He goes to the bathroom, coming back with a rag that you use to scrape his spend from your skin.

“Go fix yourself in the bathroom,” he says. Without a word, you do as he says, shutting the door with a quiet click.

While you’re in there, he finds a t-shirt of his and clutches it in a white knuckled grip while you do your business behind the closed door. When you emerge, face wiped clean and hair mostly in place, he shoves the shirt into your hands.

“Put that on.” You stare at the bundle in your hands, brow furrowed. “Now.”

You tug the large shirt over your head, slipping your arms through. It hits mid thigh and covers your tits.

Perfect.

“Get out. And don’t come back.”

________

The door shuts behind you, the click of the latch as loud as a gunshot in the hallway.

Joel Miller is an asshole.

And you shouldn’t have expected anything less.

Joel Miller tag list: @huffle-punk @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727 @whereasport @liati2000 @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfell @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @mydailyhyperfixations @ghostofjoharvelle @cutesyscreenname @morgaussy @letsgroovetonighttt

[scrambledslut]

but your honor his big wet princess puppy dog eyes cancels out all the horrors he’s committed

[gutsby]

Ruined!

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel is an old man who struggles to cum sometimes. You’ve got time to kill and a tight hole to fill.

Warnings: 18+. Peepaw brainrot + a dash of anorgasmia. Unprotected p-in-v, cockwarming, age gap, daddy kink.

Note: Finals are whooping my ass left & right. This is a quickie.

Word count: 1.2k | Part of the Waiting Game ‘verse

Surely he was hurting you now.

Joel Miller had a kink for many, many fun activities, but splitting a sweet young thing like you over his cock to the point you were almost in tears was just not one of them.

At the same time your poor, surely-bruised walls pulsed around his hardened length, he felt a pang of guilt. His balls were pressed against your ass like two lead weights, soaked with the remains of your third release, and his mind was at war with itself—keep fucking you like this? Pull out and offer his sincerest apologies for not being able to cum? A boy your age would’ve never had you waiting around like that, aching around his cock, much less begging for something as simple as a cumshot.

He decided to go straight to the source. Leaning over your prone body on the bed before him, he was careful not to rut his hips or jostle his dick around too much.

Joel pressed a hot, stubbled kiss to your cheek, then:

“‘S’it too much, baby? She need a break, maybe?”

Joel thumbed at that space where your body ended and his began and nearly lost his mind to the pearly-white slick that had accumulated with time. Two hours time, he had to remind himself while you moaned and writhed and bucked your ass back. Your cunt was choking him.

Crying, too.

Your eyes flew open the moment his words reached you.

“You kiddin’ me, Miller?! I could do this shit all day.”

Sometimes Joel forgot you were only in your twenties. Really, the thought only occasionally crossed his mind in moments like these—or when your father, his best friend, happened to bring you up—but when it did, it hit him hard. You were young. Lively. Surely far too spry and full of life to be messing around with a man as old as him.

Joel’s guilt ran almost commensurate with his pleasure when he felt you anchor your feet on the bed and start to fuck yourself back and forth over his still-throbbing dick.

Almost.

He planted a hand beside your head and grinned. He let you fuck him. Felt you pull off, crawl up the bed a little, then beckon him back to your body, where your ass was now pointing up and your back was arched in invitation.

Almost.

“You know I can’t sleep without your cum inside me.”

And you made a point to spread your knees and look behind you with a smile as sweet as Milo’s tea, fingers drumming a beat against the bedspread in anticipation.

“You do wanna fill me up, don’t you, daddy?” you teased.

Yeah, no. The guilt was gone. Joel could worry about being a depraved old man when he was done cumming.

Then he was back inside you, driving his hips until every last inch of him was wrapped snug within your wet and velvety embrace, and he sighed. A real protracted one, like the kind he was liable to exhale after climbing two flights of stairs, or else just hoisting himself off the sofa. Or lifting you in his arms and fucking you hard against the hood of his Bronco. Any time. Any place. You were kind enough to oblige him with the best cardio of his life, so the least Joel could do now was make you cum again.

He snatched your hands up in one of his own and placed your wrists at the base of your spine. With his other, free set of fingers he took to rubbing your clit gently.

“SON OF A—”

“—good girl.”

You let out a bloodcurdling scream into your pillow and secretly hoped this man’s dick would never deflate again. Not with the way he was sawing his thing back and forth and dragging you to the edge, circling your clit like you were the single most precious thing in the world to him.

“Oh, sweet pea, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Like he could feel the tears staining the cushion himself.

“Mmrooonme,” you cried into it, voice garbled by cotton.

“What’s’at, honey? Can’t hear ya.”

Joel then bent at the waist, pretending to be leaning in to hear you better, when really he knew he’d be digging in your guts with that big, bulbous head of his and making you squeal again. Hands still held captive behind you, you inched your chin back on the pillow so your moans could be heard even louder while Joel sped up.

“You— ruined me,” you repeated. Now clear as ever.

Joel tried to hide his smile and glanced down between your body and his. Then, while his ring finger joined the other two to make their tight, light circles, he returned,

“Ruined? Pussy feels just fine t’me.”

You’d kill him if he wasn’t so good at this. You turned your head more to meet his eyes from the corner of yours.

“No. Ruined me. For anyone else.”

Probably forever.

“Good.”

You knew he liked it that way.

You saw it in his eyes. Felt it in his touch. The hefty, broad, and greying Joel Miller had been loafing around on this earth long enough to know how to claim what was his. When his hips knocked yours to lay you flat on the bed, you already knew what was coming next.

First, his arms came to rest on either side of your body.

“Shit,” you whimpered.

Next, his lips went trailing down to your ear.

“Just a little more, sugar—that’s it,” he murmured while his hips sank in, and you felt that big, delicious stretch.

Then he released your hands so they were free to squeeze the sheets, and when they did, his moved over them—lacing his fingers through your own—and his lips pressed a kiss to your jaw. He held you in a tender grasp. His breath was hot on your neck, and the whole of his body was blanketing yours. Joel knew you liked it like that, which is why he made sure not to leave an inch of space in between. He was grunting, rutting, holding you close while his cock drilled a maddening pace inside you.

“You ruined me too, y’know,” he mumbled into your skin.

His nose was flush with the side of your cheek, nudging inward. Begging you to turn your head just a little more so he could kiss you. Weak as you were, you obliged.

And you moaned against that grey, stubbled chin of his when the thrusts above you had your cunt grinding the bed, rubbing that soft and helpless nub on the sheets.

“C’mon— let daddy have it,” he growled, “Let daddy have it and make it his, huh? That okay by you, baby?”

It was.

More than okay, as confirmed by the orgasm that tore through your body moments later while your teeth sank into the flesh of Joel’s lower lip and your cunt clenched and soaked over him whole. Joel wedged his tongue in your mouth and fucked you through it. His broad and callused hands were like iron around your own, holding you tight and keeping you still amidst a maelstrom of pleasure that combed over your every last nerve.

He licked into your mouth. Licked over it. Took the sick and distinct pleasure of knowing no one but him got to see you like this, with your jaw hanging slack and your eyes rolling back and your whines repeating quietly, ‘Daddydaddypleasedaddyfuckohfuckdontstop.’

Maybe ruined wasn’t such a bad thing to be at all.

[ellies-enrichment]

season 2 looks great

[a1yaaaa]

MY BELOVEDS !! MY BELOVEDS !!!!!!!!

[tightjeansjavi]

warm me up

A/N: the voices won this round! @strang3lov3 & @speckledemerald also, this was my first time writing game!joel 👀 this could also be show!joel if that's what you're into! This fic really got away from me today and I didn't think it would be nearly as long as I planned it to be..but that's just sometimes how things work out 😉 huge thank u to Bug for making me this cute lil mood board and I LOVE the deers!!🤍

~word count: 3.3k~

Summary: while on patrol, you and Joel find yourselves caught in a treacherous snowstorm.

Pairing I game!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: smut (explicit & implicit) enemies to lovers, implied age gap (non-specific) consent, cock warming, one sleeping bag trope, close proximity, using one's body warmth for survival, denial of feelings, mean!joel, grumpy!joel, reader is a spitfire and gets under Joel's skin easily, joel has a big cock! He is a big big man! teasing, banter, sexual tension, fluff, foul language, pet names: (darlin, sweetheart, and princess) reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANYTHING!

Joel is freezing, shaking like a goddamn leaf. It’s ironic, given his disposition. You should have tried to retrace your steps back to Jackson hours ago, but the winter was unforgiving, and the two of you have found yourselves in a real pickle; a frozen one.

“I told you that we were going to end up getting lost out here, Joel.” You grumble alongside him with your arms crossed over your chest. Your teeth are chattering, and it’s grinding his gears.

“We ain’t fuckin’ lost, sweetheart.” He gruffs back and adjusts his rifle strap along his shoulder. “I know where I’m goin.’”

You scoff at this because if he did know where he was going, you wouldn’t be fucking lost in a fucking blizzard right now!

“Right. I’m sure you do know where you’re going, Joel.” You mutter sarcastically under your breath.

He whips around to face you, cheeks speckled in red from the cold and even in the lowlight, you can see individual snowflakes sticking to his lashes.

“Alright, miss ‘I know everything.’ Which way do you think we should go?” He awaits your answer with a cocked brow and his lips pursed together. They’re severely cracked and on the verge of bleeding from the bitter cold.

“Not the direction we’re currently headed, that’s for damn sure! Let’s just fucking turn around and retrace our steps.” You bite back and watch the way that his jaw ticks from your tone. God, you’re a real thorn in this man’s side.

“Retrace our steps?” He laughs, shaking his head to the side and sucks in a harsh cold breath of air into his lungs. “The snow has covered up our tracks, you idiot.” He’s so fucking condescending, and you’ve just about had enough with his shit attitude for one day. Your blood is positively boiling under your thick layer of clothes, and you’d much rather succumb to Mother Nature and her wrath than spend another minute with this insufferable, annoying, mean, and painfully handsome man.

“Fuck you, Joel. I’m retracing my steps whether you have a say in it or not!” You snap and turn on your heel before you feel a rough, gloved-clad hand grasp your upper arm and yank you back towards a hard and very solid presence at your back.

“Quit your fuckin’ yappin!’” He barks against the shell of your ear. His voice is rasped, crackling like a roaring fire. “You ain’t goin’ anywhere without me, you got that?!” His grip around your arm only tightens when you tried to shove him away, but he’s built like a fucking steel fridge, and you’re no match for him.

“Then stop being a fucking asshole, Joel! I’d rather freeze to death out here than spend another minute with you!”

You mean every word. Well, you think that you do.

He sneers at your attempt to wound him with your words, as if a man with a heart made out of pure concrete can possibly be affected by the means of your figurative little daggers. They ricochet off his body and fall to the snow, disappearing under a sheet of white. “I wouldn’t have to be an asshole if you would just fuckin’ listen for once in your life! God, when we get back, and we will, I’m tellin’ Tommy that I ain’t ever goin’ on patrol with your ass again.”

His steel-like grip loosens when you don’t immediately bite back like he expects you too. He wants you to fight back, to call him names and send his own blood boiling because at least then he feels alive.

“Fine. We’ll do it your way.” You nearly whisper and bite down on the inside of your cheek, tasting harsh copper on your tongue.

“Fine.” He agrees and finally releases your arm. “We’re gonna wait out this damn storm for the night, and then tomorrow we’ll retrace our steps home. Who knows, sweetheart. Tommy might have already sent out a search party for us.”

“Let’s fucking hope that’s the case. The sooner this storm lets up, the better.” You think you’re going to cry, but you push your tears down as far as you possibly can. You have to conserve your energy, after all. Besides, Joel Miller isn’t worth your precious tears. Not even close.

He begins to survey the surrounding area. The woods offered some reliable cover with the thick evergreens acting as a shield from the treacherous wind. The snow is still falling in large flakes, but he might be able to get a fire going if he’s lucky.

“We should..probably y’know, share a sleepin’ bag for extra heat.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, feeling kinda silly in the moment because what did he have to be nervous for? His reasoning for sharing warmth was logical. It was just his survival instincts kicking in, right?

You, on the other hand, were unfazed by his request. Sure, it made perfect sense to share body heat with this man. Why the hell did he look so distraught over it - weirdo.

“Did Bear Grylls teach you that, Miller?” You look at him with a smirk playing on your lips. “If that’s the case, then we should probably sleep naked.”

That feeling that had laid dormant for so long, was beginning to reawaken and defrost at the thought of your warm, pliant, soft body being tucked up around him in close proximity. You were annoying, sure, and he could hardly tolerate your presence, but he couldn’t deny that you were a thing of beauty, and neither could his cock.

“No. Some reality TV star didn’t teach me the survival skills that I know, sweetheart. I’m jus’ that good.” He sounds cocky, full of himself and perhaps there’s a bit of eagerness detected in his tone? Maybe the dead giveaway is the way his cheeks flush, and this time it isn’t because of the cold.

You shrug and drop your pack and sleeping bag at your boots. “Whatever you say, Joel.”

He clears his throat and drops his hand from where it was resting against the back of his neck. He stares at you for a second longer than he would have liked to, and then announces that he’s going to go find some wood for a fire, and for you to stay put.

You wave him off and unroll your sleeping bag with a huff and begin to mentally question how the hell is this grizzly of a man going to fit inside of your sleeping bag? Oh well! Time to defy all the odds that have been stacked against you.

When Joel returns, he finds you already tucked away under the sleeping bag with your clothes neatly folded on top of your backpack. He managed to find a few fallen tree branches that would make good kindling, and some thicker logs for the base of the fire.

He avoids making direct eye contact with you as he crouches down and constructs a fire that he hopes to god will keep the two of you warm throughout the cold night ahead.

You already have taken notice of his suddenly quiet and almost docile demeanor with just your head visible and peeking out of the sleeping bag

“Are you sure that fire is going to last the night, Joel?”

His shoulders and back immediately tense from your question and you can already picture him clenching his jaw and muttering under his breath.

“Ain’t no tellin’ if it will last the night, sweetheart.” He stokes at the ember glowing logs with the end of a spare stick before looking over his shoulder at you. “Y’comfy in there?” His voice rasps, dipping down an octave and sounding much, much, lower.

“Yep.” You chirp. “Nice and cozy in here, Joel. Did I mention it’s very, very warm?”

He snorts under his breath, tearing his gaze away from you and focuses back on the fire. “Yeah. I bet it is.”

What you really want to say is: and it would be even warmer if you were here with me. But you refrain, and instead bury your face further into the contained warmth emitting from the sleeping bag.

Joel is hesitating, and that part couldn’t be anymore obvious based on his tense stature. Maybe he could just accept losing feeling in his fingers and toes instead of crossing that boundary with you. Or, he could man up and deal with the immediate feelings that would come as soon as his hands would inevitably touch your warm skin.

“Joel?”

Your voice tears him away from his thoughts briefly. “Hm?”

“Aren’t you..cold?”

Freezing. My cock and balls are about to fuckin’ fall off.

“M’fine.” He insists.

“So goddamn stubborn.” He hears you mutter under your breath followed by the sound of the sleeping bag zipper being pulled down. “Get in here before you freeze to death. I’m serious, Joel.”

“Fuck off. I said m’fine.” He grumbles and turns over his shoulder to look at you once more. His eyes catch a sliver of skin, a nipple peeking out from under the fabric as you were sitting up. His head whips around so fast he swears that his brain just got rattled around in his skull.

“Would you just be a fucking man and take your clothes off and get in here?”

So impatient, he thinks.

“You jus’ wanna see me naked.” He quips back.

“For fuck sakes, Joel. I just don’t want you to freeze out here. Is that so hard to believe?”

Yes.

“Jus’..don’t peek. Alright?” He slowly stands up from his place alongside the fire as he starts to shuck his heavy coat off his shoulders.

“Fine. I won’t peek, okay? Scouts honor.” You promise him and bring your hand over your eyes to cover them.

He’s grumbling to himself the whole time as he begins to undress. He bitches about the cold, his cock, and his nearly frozen toes as you listen quietly to the sound of his belt buckle being undone. He does not fold his clothes neatly like you did and instead they are left in a pile near the fire. He dashes for your sleeping bag, yanking the zipper down in a fury and climbs inside.

It’s a tight fit indeed with barely any room for him to squeeze in but he makes it work.

“Fuck!” His yell is muffled as he struggles to make himself comfortable in what little space he has. “Fuckin’ cannot believe I actually listened to you.” He rubs his hands together, blowing hot air between them.

“Oh, shut up, you big baby.” You stifle a laugh which earns you a displeased glare. “We wouldn’t be in this mess if you just would have—”

“Do not start with me, sweetheart. Don’t you fuckin’ dare.” His brows furrow and his jaw is clenched so tightly, you’re shocked that it hasn’t shattered.

“You’re all bark and no bite, Joel.” You mutter back and roll over onto your side so your back is facing him. You close your eyes and fully intend to get some much needed and deserved sleep, but the man beside you is squirming and making a big fuss.

“Darlin’ I know you ain’t want anythin’ to do with a man like me, but it was your idea for us to get naked under here..so all I’m askin’ is—”

“Just do whatever it is you need to do, Joel. Can you just be quiet about it? All I want to do right now is sleep, and your fussing about is making that really fucking difficult for me to achieve.” You snap.

“Are you givin’ me permission, sweetheart? Cus’ the last thing I want is for you to bite my damn fingers off if I touch you. So as long as it’s alright with you..” he trails off and you take matters into your own hands by reaching behind you and finding his cold hands and yanking them around your body. You couldn’t help but yelp from the stark difference of temperature from your body heat to his hands.

“You’re fucking freezing, Joel.” You state the obvious and he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. I didn’t exactly have time to warm them up, sweetheart. My apologies that my hands aren’t at the right temperature for ya.” You think you hear him snicker under his breath, but maybe it’s just his close proximity that makes you hear things.

“Whatever. It’s fine.” You reassure him.

His hands are big, huge, and the skin on his palms and fingers are rough. The feeling overall is quite pleasant, and soon enough his hands don’t feel like an ice block - quite the opposite actually.

He grunts softly as attempts to make himself comfortable without pressing himself into your back. It’s proving to be a challenge as it is, and he has this feeling deep in the pit of his stomach, that this challenge is going to get the best of him.

“What’s wrong now, Joel?” You try to ignore the way his thumbs are gently stroking the space between the curve of your breasts and under your rib cage, and how his touch on your skin is beginning to light a fire in your belly, and between your thighs. His touch is gentle and it’s making your head spin with need and desire.

“I jus’—I don’t wanna make y’feel uncomfortable s’all.” He admits, voice rasping deeply. “I’m fuckin’ freezin’, darlin’ but I don’t wanna—”

“Just shut up and stick your dick in me, Joel. You’ll be warmer then.” You surprise both yourself and him.

His meaty palms squeeze you gently, fingertips kneading the flesh as he inhales a shaky, yet audible breath. The tight confines of your shared sleeping bag suddenly feel ten times tighter, and hotter. It’s suffocating in a delicious sense that you and Joel are stuck here together in this rather..unfortunate situation. You hate him, and he hates you, yet the thought of his thick cock nestling between your thighs sounds like absolute heaven on a plate right now.

Joel thinks he’s on the verge of passing out from your vulgar statement. It’s been god knows how long since he’s felt the warmth of a woman’s body around his cock. It’s been too goddamn long, he thinks.

“..well, if you’re askin.’” He whispers as his hands maneuver your body to press back against him. One strong arm anchors itself around your waist, engaging you in a warm hold when you feel his hard, broad chest pressing against your back. You haven’t even seen his cock, yet you already can tell that he’s big. The word big might not even be able to describe the massive size that is Joel Miller.

“This doesn’t mean anything. Right, Joel?” You ask through the thick growing tension that coils itself around you and the burly man beside you like a snake.

“Doesn’t mean nothin’ at all, sweetheart. Jus’ sharin’ body heat for survival, like you said.” He rasps and blows a hot puff of air against the back of your neck as his strong thighs wrap around your own. Even this man’s feet are fucking huge in every sense.

Y’know what they say about big feet? An even bigger—heart. I was going to say heart.

“Okay.” You squeak out as you relax further into his hold around you.

“Can you jus’ let me know if you’re uncomfortable at any point? Cus’ if that’s the case, I’ll slip right out. No questions asked, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his apparent nervousness. It was sweet, in a Joel-like fashion. Hell must have frozen over right then and there because the Joel you had grown so accustomed to, was anything but sweet.

“Wow. You sure know how to romance a lady up, Miller. Did Tommy teach you how to do that?” You couldn’t help but wiggle your ass back against him. The thought of reaching down between your thighs and touching yourself crossed your mind, but you refrained.

He laughed, and it sent a wave of arousal gushing like a river because his laugh was beautiful. It was music to your fucking ears.

“Shut the fuck up.” His teeth grazed at the spot where your neck meets your jaw. He bit down, drawing blood to the surface of his indentation in your skin. “I taught Tommy everythin’ he needs to know on romancin’ a woman. Don’t get it twisted, sweetheart.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say, big boy.” You nearly purred. Your back arched towards him, a suppressed moan desperate to be set free when his teeth marked you.

“I think someone is a bit too eager over this whole arrangement that we have found ourselves in.” He comments in a low rasp and his hand drifts down from your hip and nudges your thighs apart with a practiced ease. His heavy cock pressed firmly against your lower back as he let out another praising grunt from between his lips.

“Stop playing with me, Joel. I don’t want to be played with.” You hiss under your breath when you feel the backside of his knuckles slowly drag through the seam of your cunt.

“Y’sure about that, sweetheart? If you don’t wanna be played with, then what do you want?”

Frankly, he’s taking too long for your liking and you decided then and there to take matters into your own hands; literally. You reach between your bodies before he even has a chance to protest as you blindly search for his cock. Your warm palm barely fits around the girth of him.

“I want you to take your cock and stretch me open, Joel. Think you can handle that? Best not keep a lady waiting. It’s awfully rude.” You tsk under your breath.

He growls as his hips buck upwards into your hand like he’s never felt the touch of a woman’s palm before in his life.

“Fine. I like a woman that knows exactly what she wants, anyway. Won’t keep ya waitin’ any longer, princess.”

Joel Miller is a man of his word and just when you think he’s bluffing, you feel the thick press of the head of his cock sliding through your slick folds and notching at your entrance.

He groans against your ear, jaw clenching, and teeth grinding because you’re tight and hugging him like a fucking fist.

“Jesus fuck. That’s a tight cunt if I’ve ever felt one.” He rasps as you slowly pull him in further at the rate that he pushes his hips. Soon, he’s bottomed out with his hips firmly pressed into your ass. His legs stay tangled through yours as his arms come to wrap you up in his hold once more.

“Fuck.” You breathe, lashes fluttering as he stretches you open. He fits snuggly, almost as if your pussy was making a home for his cock to stay there awhile, all cozy and warm with you. “See? Was that so fucking difficult?”

He shakes his head and you swear you can feel him grinning against your skin. “Nope. It wasn’t difficult at all, sweetheart. In fact, I think I’ll stay here awhile.” Yeah, he’s definitely enjoying this.

You smile at this, burying your face into the solid muscle of his bicep, pressing the lightest kiss there. Maybe you even nibbled on it, and maybe he chuckled and pulled you in even closer.

“Stay as long as you’d please, Joel.” You whisper softly.

Come morning the embers from the fire had long since died out, and the storm had since passed. You and Joel were still a bunch of tangled limbs and connected warmth by the time Tommy and the rest of patrol had found you.

Joel had since grown soft with his cock still buried deep within your warmth and his face was buried in your neck with peaceful snores slipping past his plush lips. His eyes barely peeked open when he heard familiar voices muffled, yet nearby. Tommy had just brushed a bit of snow off the top of the sleeping bag and pulled the zipper down when he was met with a sight that he wasn’t expecting.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” He chuckled and shot his big brother a cheeky wink.

Banners made by the lovely @saradika 🤍

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[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Mean!Dom!Joel Miller x Reader | Joel tames Reader’s bratty, bitchy attitude with a good hard FUCK | make-up sex but meaner 😈 | rough, rough sex | includes fingering, vaginal sex, Joel holds Reader’s throat (no choking) implied age gap, some butt stuff, use of ‘little girl,’ and ‘bitch,’ as demeaning terms, oral sex, spanking, degrading language used by both Joel & Reader

Joel’s eyes pierce through you, his voice simmering with anger. “If you run that little brat mouth of yours one more time, I swear to god-.”

“-What??” you taunt him. “What’re you gonna do, old man??” He doesn’t respond immediately, so you aggressively shove at his chest with both hands. “Tough guy??” you sneer. Joel clenches his fists in restraint. Your smile is intentionally cruel in an effort to provoke him. “You gonna hurt me, you fucking asshole??”

For a moment, a softness passes over his eyes; it never occurred to Joel that you’d imagine him capable of being violent toward you. He feels…heartbroken by your lack of trust in him, but refuses to let it show.

“Is that what you want?” Joel asks instead, forcing a coldness into his tone. “You want me to hurt you?” When you try to shove at his chest again, Joel is prepared for it this time. His big hands clamp around your wrists, his lips pressed into a hard line as he holds back your assault. You both grunt as he presses your hands back against your own chest, pinning them to you.

“You’re not doin’ shit to me, little girl,” Joel growls. “No matter how big you want to try ‘n make yourself-.” He removes one of his hands, proving that he can keep you restrained using only one. “-I’m still in charge…”

You glare at him, jutting your head forward so your spit lands directly on his mouth. Joel jerks at the sudden contact of your saliva hitting him, before scoffing and running his tongue over his lip to taste it. “That supposed to piss me off-?” Joel tugs one of your hands downward and rubs his erection against it. “-Or turn me on?” he asks. “Because to be fuckin’ honest-.” Joel grinds himself against the palm of your hand. “-It’s doin’ a bit of both…”

Your bitchy defenses are crumbling further by the second. At this point, you can’t even remember what prompted the fight you started with Joel. It began this morning, gradually building in intensity till it reached a boiling point five minutes ago. “…Joel,” you utter, your voice suddenly soft, and he sure as hell notices.

“Oh, now I’m Joel again?” he asks. “What happened to all those colorful names you were calling me, huh?” He smirks condescendingly, but his cock throbs against your hand. “Am I not an old man anymore? A fuckin’ asshole? Or-.” His eyebrow lifts, as if a sudden clarity has come over him. “Maybe what you meant to say-.” Joel reaches behind you and grips a handful of your ass, squeezing so hard you wince. “-Is that you want your asshole fucked?” His eyes are so dark, it’s almost frightening. “Does that sound about right?” Joel releases your ass, followed by a spanking so hard, tears form in your eyes.

You’ve gone uncharacteristically quiet after being humbled by Joel’s strength. “Now you’ve got nothin’ to say?” he snaps. Joel cups your hand over his erection and grinds against it. “About damn time you stopped fuckin’ disrespecting me,” he growls. “I can think of better uses for your dirty mouth, anyway.”

Joel’s hands go to your shoulders, pushing you down to your knees. Without a second thought, you reach for his belt, and he smacks your hand away, shaking his head at you. “Jesus,” he mutters. “This is how I know you were bein’ a bitch on purpose.” He unbuckles his belt and pulls it through the loops of his jeans, tossing it aside. “You wanna make it up to me bad, don’t you little girl?” He unzips his jeans and pulls his cock out, watching the shadow it casts over your hungry expression. Joel scoffs as if disgusted by your eagerness, but really, he’s getting off on it. “Quit embarrassing yourself and just start suckin’ it already,” he mutters down at you.

Joel’s cock points toward your lips, a dot of precum blossoming on its fat, ruddy tip. You swipe your tongue across it, collecting the pearly liquid. He takes his cock by the base and smacks it heavy against your cheek. “I said suck it,” he scolds. “Not give it a fuckin’ kiss.” Joel grabs you by the hair and pulls your lips over his cock, thrusting back and forth inside your mouth. “Have to do everything myself,” he grunts as you struggle to take him, spit bubbling around your lips and dripping to the floor. Joel’s body is curved forward, his stomach tensed as he fucks down your throat. He feels your muscles constrict quickly, telling him you’re about to vomit. Joel pulls out long enough for you to swallow back the vomit and catch your breath, his hand still locked in your hair, then immediately pulls you back over his cock and continues to selfishly use your throat.

When he feels the threat of vomit approaching again, Joel decides you’ve had enough. He wipes away the bubbly spit and mucus smeared over your face and neck. “On your back,” Joel orders, tugging his shirt over his head. “Panties off, NOW.” He nestles between your legs, spitting on two of his fingers before abruptly forcing them inside your cunt. Your eyes go wide, your back arching into a crescent as the sudden penetration overwhelms you. “You can take it,” Joel assures you, resting his cheek against your inner thigh, occasionally kissing the soft skin there while he fingers you. “Been smellin’ this little pussy all day, y’know that?” Joel smirks. “All the time we were goin’ back and forth at each other, I knew you were makin’ a mess all over your panties…”

Joel yanks his fingers from inside you and spanks your pussy, making you cry out. He doesn’t give you any time to recover before shoving his fingers back inside, pumping your guts like he’s angry at them. “You need an attitude adjustment,” Joel mutters darkly. “And probably a back adjustment too, by the time I’m done with you.” He flips you onto your stomach with his fingers still inside you. There’s a pressure against your asshole as Joel pushes his thumb just past its puckering barrier, penetrating you there as well. “Look at that,” he says, admiring the way you wiggle your hips to encourage him. “Keep pushin’ back on me like that ‘n I’ll put another finger inside you. Wear you like a fuckin’ puppet.” Joel chuckles darkly, his fingers toying inside your holes. “Guess that’d be one way to fix your brat mouth, wouldn’t it? Make you my little puppet so you can’t talk shit anymore.”

He pulls his fingers from your pussy and pops them in his mouth, sucking your arousal off of them with a groan. “Fuckin’ heaven,” he murmurs. “There’s nothin’ I’d rather do more than to bury my face in your sweet little cunt and lick you till you’re beggin’ me to quit,” Joel adds. “But that’d be a treat, and you don’t deserve it after the way you bitched at me all afternoon.”

He’s kneeling between your legs, his eyes coasting over your back and ass, admiring the pretty marks his hand left on it. He spits into his palm and takes hold of his cock, pressing his tip just against your asshole. He feels you tense, and smirks behind you. “Don’t worry sweetheart,” Joel teases, guiding his tip lower. “I’m not gonna put it in your ass.” He spanks you with his cock, your lips quivering around his tip. “God knows if I did, you’d make a mess all over the place and have to spend the night cleaning shit and cum out of the carpet.” Joel bucks into your pussy without warning, your lips parting in a low groan. “This way,” he breathes against your neck, his body curved over yours. “All you’ll be cleaning up is cum.”

Joel closes his hand around your throat, holding you in place with your back in an arch. He forces his cock as deeply inside you as possible, pulling back a little when he feels your cervix against his tip. “Hold still,” he gruffly orders. “You want to make things right between us, don’t you?”

You nod as best you can with Joel’s hand around your throat.

“Then be a good girl and lay here while I use you, understand?”

He lets you answer definitively, just to check in and make sure you’re alright. Joel may have been hurt and pissed off by your antics earlier this afternoon, but under no circumstances would he ever abuse you. He needs to know you’re alright with the kind of language he’s using, and the easiest way to do that while remaining somewhat threatening is to ask, “You think you’re ready to take what I’m about to give you?”

“Yes,” you reply without hesitation, knowing full well that if you said no, Joel would immediately stop. “I’ve been such a bad girl.” You feel his cock twitch inside you, so you keep going. “Need you to teach me a lesson…”

…And Joel does. He beats your pussy into submission, fucking you like he hates you when in reality, Joel doesn’t think he could love you more without his heart bursting open. He’s laying across your back, his body almost flush with yours, hands pinning your wrists to the ground beside your head. He rests his forehead against the back of your hair, panting hot and wet over your neck. With his big hand still closed around your throat, Joel pistons into you so hard your tits are smacking against his forearm with every thrust.

Your ass bounces off his stomach each time they collide, his cock punching frenetically between your warm, moist walls. Joel feels himself getting close, and prays he has the self control to pull out in time. You’re fluttering around him in a way that tells him you’re on the edge as well, so he continues to fuck you at the same pace that’s brought you both to this point.

When you start to come, Joel has to pull out. He knows you don’t want to get pregnant right now and as deeply as he’s fucking you, there’s no way his cum would end up anywhere other than all over your cervix if he stayed inside you.

As soon as Joel pulls out, he stuffs two fingers back inside of you and keeps up the same pace as his cock before. You ride out your orgasm on his fingers, while Joel uses his other hand to stroke himself. “That’s a good fuckin’ girl,” he pants over your back, letting go of his cock just long enough to give your ass two hard swats. “Keep squeezin’ my fingers, just like that, fuck…” Joel closes his eyes and lets out a string of curses, his cock spilling warm and white all over his lap.

Your cheek is resting against the floor, a contented smile on your lips when Joel catches you watching him. “So,” he pants, trying to catch his breath. “Are we good, little girl?”

You bite your lip, nodding affirmatively. “Yeah,” you reply, your eyes getting heavy. “We’re definitely good.”

[penvisions]

gone to the dogs {chapter 2}

Pairing: Boston QZ! Joel Miller x F! Reader, brief mention of Joel Miller x Tess Servopoulos

Summary: You set off to scout for a meeting with the man Tess has been in contact with over the radio. Only to find out it’s two men and you know one of them.

Word Count: 7.5k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, canon typical gore, outbreak fic, age gap (only by about ten years), dark fic, dark joel miller, mean joel miller, joel miller is uptight, degrading language, sexual language, sexual proposition, violence, heated interactions, adult language, fighting, argumentative language, mutual disdain, sexual content, implication of sex work, unprotected piv (mentioned), sexual acts, choking, oral (m and f receiving), dom/sub dynamics if you squint, joel is bossy, some 69 action (idk don't look at me), anal play, reader is snarky, reader meets joel toe-to-toe with insults and it's amazing both reader and joel pov, lemme know if there are any i missed!

*we have a nickname reveal, in reference to one of the most known guard dog breeds (cause i think i'm funny lol)

A/N: something possessed me and the next thing i know this chapter was on the word document. don't look at me, i have no clue what i'm doing 🫣okay, bye

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

It was dark, curfew for the zone only an hour off. The sparse streetlights illuminating the rather humiliating display of the street, outlined with bodies hidden in the shadows of stoops, of power lines chaotically spread out above, of the dirt and grime that seemed to coat every fucking inch of what the world had become. Despite the strict regulations of cleanliness, trash and debris from the ravage of bombs dropped on the larger cities lingered about. The roads barely maintained and only for the vehicles controlled by FEDRA.

It wasn’t the most sanitary of places to live, but you made it work for you. Clinging to life, even if it was a shadow of what that once meant. You tried not to dwell on that line of thinking for too long.

But you hummed a little as you felt the weight of a thick stack of ration cards tucked into your back pocket. This particular part of the zone was known for its more…salacious activity and trade. A place you knew would be ripe with rewards for very little work on your part. The feeling of drying spend wasn’t a comfortable one, as it stuck and hardened on the skin of your stomach and back. But it was a small price to pay for a months’ worth of food and the small smirk from Joel and Tess once you handed over some of the cards.

Earn your keep, that had been the only rule barked at you when first hashing out understands for your partnership with them both. Joel had seemed to stare into your very soul to get the point across, while Tess had been far more cordial, seeking you out after finding you to be one of the best scouts whose services were fought after. Before they had shown up in the dingy zone, you had been a free agent. A rather successful one on your own. Hopping from one smuggler to the next if their offers were good enough, but with those two it had all stopped. You were loyal to them now.  Circumstance and mild comfortability in favor of constantly watching out for deals gone bad or men who thought you were a part of them.

And you agreed to an even split if it meant they would watch your back. They had come to you after all, you needed a little more from the deal if you were willingly work with only two people as opposed to those who sought you out and who you knew would trade what you asked for. The timing of their arrival one of the few good things you believed to be whatever higher power existed smiling down on you with pity. The loss of your brother had been harsh, hung in front of a crowd and practically announcing to the zone you no longer had protection.

You could hold your own as well as needed, but the world was cruel. You had been offered less than satisfactory terms since his death, cajoled into doing jobs under threat of report and even the barrel of a gun or two. It had been a tough two years of trying to maintain your reputation, a few lives lost in the endeavor when you had been challenged in ways you refused to put up with.

The first had been a man who had taken it upon himself to be your new ‘alpha’, to watch over you and ensure you were safe under his vigilant eye. But his name hadn’t carried the same weight at your own, the nickname ascribed to you accurate for a once well-known breed of guard dog. When he had tried to force you to submit to him, you had torn into his neck with nothing but your teeth, hands tied behind your back as you woke to the man in your apartment once news of your brother’s passing had spread to every corner of the zone.

Another had been a woman who attempted to sell you out to the very soldiers who relied on you for narcotics. She had found herself thrown into a cell and once released she had come at you with a knife while you worked a job around the city under the guise of falling in line with every other citizen. The exchange had ended with her clutching to the knife imbedded in thigh and you with a long red marks from her nails as she had screamed at your resistance to be taken out.

People had been willing to work with you, knowing the knowledge you had was abundant and the things you offered for trade were scarce. But as with everything, things had begun to dry up. The longer time went on, the harder it was to maintain the abundance of items deemed contraband or frivolous. But the stash you had hidden held on for quite a while. Posing as another version of yourself, you had stolen entire collections from people who were new to the zone and decided to try and work around you or shoulder you out of the scene. Not knowing it was you people were referring to when the name Cane was spoken until they took their last breath or mysteriously disappeared as soon as they had arrived.

Until Joel and Tess.

They had staked you out, gone into your apartment to get a feel for who you were but when faced with the consequences of their actions, they had been willing to talk it out. Someone must’ve warned them that newcomers who weren’t willing to play along with how things operated here disappeared or were found dead, a warning in and of itself for them. They had expected to just do recon, to see what you had going on with the aid of Tommy Miller down the hall as a lookout. A scout.

But they hadn’t known that’s what you were above all. Aware of your surroundings at all times, never caught without your guard down. Tommy had been taken out long before you had entered your apartment that night. The first signal that something was different. The younger Miller brother had gotten flustered at your approach, offering the man a night of pleasure since he was new and deserved to see what the zone had to offer. He had been knocked out cold before he could even answer your feigned advance. He often stayed behind, letting his two companions work alongside you while he tried to keep his head down and do as FEDRA asked. Something Joel said he was a fool to do, but didn’t dissuade him from.

He had revealed that his longer absences from the apartment they had been assigned, right beside yours, were because of his work with the group known as the Fireflies. Some members of which you used to do work with. Warning him of their willingness to cause chaos in ways they though were liberating but ended up being destructive and damning. But he hadn’t heeded your genuine words born of concern. Not wanting him to face the same fate as your bother. Joel had been even more difficult to work with when Tommy had disappeared one day with nothing but a note saying he was with a group of them assigned for relocation. He had been even more brutal since then not even a year after they had arrived, the sting of betrayal and abandonment needing to be let out somehow. And Joel Miller was capable of great brutality.

He also happened to be stepping out from a shadowed awning just across the street. An ununiformed officer slinking away with a tight grip on something in his hand.

The satisfaction of having just duped some poor suckers out of their cards shifted to something else, something akin to shame at being caught with muzzle in something that wasn’t yours to be had. You had hidden the…visits you made here from your brother, something you had done with you both first arrived in the desolate excuse of a zone. Lectured and pleaded with once he had found out, begging you to stop because it wasn’t what he wanted for you, what he didn’t want you to feel like you had to do. But you did and that was the stark truth. It was always something you could fall back on.

“What the hell are you doing?” Joel’s words were sharp, his chocolate curls tousled in the wind you had to shake the urge to reach up and tangle your hands in them.

“Conducting business. Same as you.” The words are spit from your twisted mouth, not liking the tone he approached you with or the hard glare that molded his features. What you were doing was none of his concern, you didn’t belong to him. You didn’t like how your body was responding to him lately, and you idly wondered if your finicky cycle was about to make a rare resurgence.

“The only business here is…” His eyes flick to the crumbling building behind you, a well-known house of pleasure. The man who had just been inside you exited and jaunted down the steps, pausing as he noticed the two of you staring each other down. When Joel’s eyes focused on him, he took off at a brisk pace.

“Yup.” You turned and started walking back toward the center of the zone.

“Didn’t take you for a whore.” Steps not faltering as he falls in line beside you, it’s easy to shrug off his slight judgement. It had only been a year of working with him, but you knew him well enough to know that if he really didn’t like something he would just silently brood over it. Whatever he was trying to do now, was simply get a rise out of you just for the sake of doing it. He was cheeky in his own way, even if it was always at your expense. But the same could be said of you, you always berated him for not listening completely to things you and Tess discussed.

“Well, this whore just earned all three of us a month’s worth of cards. Each.”

“And you’re proud of that, aren’t ya? Whorin’ yourself out for a little food.” He digs his claws in deeper, when he doesn’t get the reaction he was expecting. But it was late and you truly weren’t bothered by his words. He was right, you had just sold your body. It was your right as a woman to do with your body as you pleased and if it earned you something then, what? Shame wasn’t something you let yourself feel, not for this. The only negative thing about spending your time at the pleasure house was that you never left with the same satisfaction of your clients. The men weren’t there for that, they went for themselves and themselves alone.

“You took all the pills for your trades. Didn’t leave me much to trade with.” You throw back at him with only a slight uptick of volume, but your words held the truth. Tess had given him all of the pills from yesterdays’ foray into what remained of the city around the zone. You had been given the firearms, opting to keep them as part of your stash for the time being instead of trading them.

“You could’ve asked for some.” He’s looking straight ahead when you turn to see him a little more clearly in your periphery. His profile is strong, the hook of his nose and the fullness of his lips obvious against the streetlights.

“I don’t ask for things I can’t afford. Not from anyone and certainly not from you.” You can’t help the bite in your words, as if the idea of him willingly giving you a part of what he intended to trade was even fathomable. He may be the muscle of the group, the attack dog people kept their eyes on and ears on alert for. But even so, he also did nearly as much legwork as you did, if not more at this point. You and Tess working together to orchestrate the trades and caches of contraband to steal or loot.

“Fine.” He grunts, hands shoved in his front pockets.

“Fine.” You parrot, not willing to let him have the last word.

When you turned at the entrance of an alley, he didn’t see the shadow of the person lying in wait until they shifted. But you seemed to have known they were going to be there, because you were suddenly ducking beneath the person’s reaching arms and slamming their front to into the brick. The woman shouted out as her forehead thudded harshly against the wall, her arms twisted behind her back and tight in your grip.

“I told you last time, no payment no pills.” Your voice is threateningly low as you crowd against the woman who had tried to ambush you. Joel only watches, his gaze heavy on your back as you hold your own. Showing no mercy to the woman whose position you easily could’ve fallen into yourself. But you had stopped the excessive use, opting to trade nearly everything you could and only keeping a minor stash for yourself should you need to make a run for it.

“He-he told me to!”

“Don’t care, you come at me again, either of you and I’ll cut you in your sleep.”

“You would-wouldn’t!”

“Wanna try me?” You pull her away from the wall, the dull streetlights illuminating her bloodied and tear-stained face. “Go home. Find me when you have what I want.”

“Y-yes, I’m so sorry, Cane.”

When you turn your back on the alley, the woman running through the narrow space and out the other side, Joel is merely standing there with his arms crossed. Denim pulled taut over his broad shoulders and biceps at the stance. His lips are upturned a bit, his eyes dark in the fallen night, but it isn’t until you glance down at his waist are you sure of what he was really thinking.

The hard outline of him through the denim of his jeans is obvious. He had gotten turned on, aroused, and it sends a thrill of proud excitement through your own body. Whether it was from either seeing you walk out of a well-known pleasure house, beat up an empty-handed solicitor, or both you weren’t sure.

But you tilted your head back as you sauntered up to him as close as you could. Apparently, that was more than okay with him because you pushed your chest against his crossed arms, the soft give of them pressed to his forearms while you trailed a finger lightly over his zipper. The hinge of his jaw jumped, the muscle there twitching from the barely there touch, his brow furrowing as he looked down to catch your glittering eyes.

“Wanna take up that offer for relief?”

“Thought you didn’t ask for things you couldn’t afford.” His words are hard, though you see through them, through him. He wasn’t going to outright ask you, he never would.

“I could certainly afford to lose an evening spent prying open a can of too-old green beans if it means you’d calm the hell down a bit.”

“What makes you think I need you for that?” He cocks his head to the side slightly, mirth dancing behind his eyes as he notices he one upped you. Because damn if he hadn’t. You knew him and Tess were…whatever it was they were. The way he listened to her and made sure she had what she needed was first on his priorities from day one, it was obvious. A man like him seemed to need someone to look after, his purpose was her livelihood. And she was his. Even if they weren’t obvious about it, the signs were there.

The every so often thuds of their bed against the wall, the moans and panting breath that sounded as if it was in your own apartment and not theirs next door, the way Joel walked a little straighter the next day and Tess was a little more willing to go along with plans that didn’t have great payoffs with the argument that it was at least something.

It was something that was unspoken between all three of you, something Tommy had only brought up twice with you when you were both alone. He hadn’t been jealous, at least not in the way that made you feel sorry for him. It was because he didn’t see a point to it if it wasn’t genuine and if he had learned anything in the collapse of the world, it was that his older brother was all the things he never thought he would be. That he knew it was a way for Joel to feel wanted and useful, something he was jealous of only because he had once been someone who relied on his brother. Still had until the second he left, unable to handle the decline of the person he had grown up with and cared for.

You couldn’t fault him for that. Sibling relationships and dynamics were hard even when the world was good. The demise of someone wasn’t always of bloodshed, infection, or the quieting of their heart. It was sometimes the inability to recognize and the horror of realization that it had been a long time since you had been able to see them as they were. It had been too much for Tommy, you didn’t fault him for running. But it left you with the obviously bonded pair he had left behind and for that you cursed him.

Your own loneliness apparent when the only person you could call a ‘friend’ had left you behind too.

“Didn’t wanna fuckin’ touch you anyway.” Voice level, you realize you weren’t in the mood to play with him now his harsh denial floats in the thick air between you.

The combination of your melancholy thoughts and Joel’s words stings and you turn away from him, boots barely guiding you away before your arm is in the man’s grip and he’s turning you back to face him with a harsh jerk.

“Hey, that wasn’t a no.”

“Sure as hell sounded like it to me.” You try to yank your arm back from him, to put as much distance between you as possible, only he tightens his grip.

“Don’t offer shit if you’re not gonna follow up.” He reprimands, voice low with the edge of a threat.

“Go find Tess.” You feel your lips curl around the woman’s name.

“Don’t want Tess.” His words shouldn’t have the effect on you that they do. But the dissatisfaction of not finding your own release hits you like a weight. The visits you made to that part of the zone always disappointing in that department. Your pleasure was never the goal. Your body begins to hum at the implication of them, at the implication of him wanting you.

“Too bad, you picked the wrong moment to feign disinterest and I don’t wanna play with you anymore.”

“That all it is, playin’?”

“Only thing it could be, you don’t seriously think I want you, do you?”

“I think you’re afraid to admit you do, yeah.”

“I could go straight back to that pleasure house and get what I need.”

“Yeah, but it ain’t what you want. ‘Cause I’m standing right here.”

“You’re so full of yourself,” Turning your back on him, you ascend the few steps into the main floor of the apartment building. He’s right behind you, the heat of his body only a few steps of distance away. He manages to keep up as you quickly scale the stairs up to the floor your apartments are on. The sensation of being chased prickles your skin into goosebumps, it raises the hairs on the back of your neck and makes your cunt throb in anticipation of being caught.

“Think you wanna be full a’me, otherwise you wouldn’t offer so damn much.” The thought sends a spark of arousal straight down your spine, igniting the smoldering kindling of your earlier activities as you finally step onto the flattened floor of your hall.

“Just tired of being around you when your dick is doing all the thinking. Makes it so I have to do twice as much work to keep things going smoothly.”

“Then clear my head, be a good little lap dog for me.”

“No. Told you I don’t wanna play with you anymore.”

“Too bad, cause I ain’t done with you.”

“Joel, I swear to fucking god-“

“You gotta learn to shut that god damn mouth when you’re ahead, darlin’.” Before you could blink, your back is being pressed up against his door. One of his thighs are between your legs and pressing up into your aching core, one of his hands is tight around your neck, pinning you between the hardness of the door and the strong line of his broad body. His eyes are looking between your own, his lips part to speak again but it isn’t what you were expecting.

“You scared?” He asks in a low voice, vulnerability and concern swirl in a shadow curling behind his words. He was making sure you were okay and really wanted this and the thought makes your body shiver. The thought that he wouldn’t truly engage with you this way if you didn’t want it is the bare fucking minimum but it rounds out into another full glimpse of the man he is, of who he used to be.

His other hand snakes around your waist once he’s got the door unlocked and it’s no longer holding you up.

The door is kicked shut behind him, the slam echoing through the hallway enough to insight a few shouts of dismay. But his focus is on you, only on you. His hooded eyes dark as he takes in the dilation of your pupils and the hitch of your breath as he corrals you toward the bed. Definitely not scared.

“Only part a you that listens, huh?” He sneaks a pair of thick fingers beneath the waistband and finds you already so slick. “This all you?”

“Don’t let cum in me, if that’s what you’re askin’.” His fingers are the perfect pressure as they dip between your folds, and you hear the sound he makes deep in his chest even if his lips remain shut. A chip in his usual demeanor, a small flicker of that same weakness you had stumbled on the first time you condescendingly offered to blow him.

“Good.” He rasps. “Sit down.”

“Mutual relief,” He grunts as he senses your quiet confusion, the heat of his intent rises up your chest and over the apples of your cheeks, brows furrowing as it doesn’t quite compute. Confusion gives way to a spark, that low simmering heat thrumming in your body catching fire and licking across your entire body. “That’s how we’re gonna do this, y’hear me? Won’t leave you like those other men. Now sit.”

You do, heeding the command as you attune to him, body jostling as you set yourself on the edge of his shared bed, everything else a blur around him. The apartment is barely illuminated by the streetlights trickling in through the sorry excuse of curtains still pulled back on the window. Just enough light to see him, to see how big he is as he begins to kneel before you, hands reaching for your jeans. You can only watch as he undoes them and peels them from your legs, the only pair you have that have molded to your body from years of relying on them. You’re about to ask him what he’s doing when he tilts his head up and your completely naked from the waist down.

“She’s gonna be back soon.” You don’t worry about getting caught but you’d rather not have an audience for the submission you were too weak to resist. Body responding to him with an intoxicating ease, the curiosity if what he means by mutual relief too much of a temptation. If there was anyone who was worthy of it, it was Joel, even if you loathed basically everything about him. Too similar and too rife with the same qualities and tendencies for violence, too much of a mirror of who you were at the very core of your soul.

“She’s busy setting up the meeting for tomorrow,” He’s suddenly standing, his own clothing being peeled away to land on the floor with your own. His chest is dusted with the same dark brown atop his head, his skin the same bronze of his forearms and weathered face. The rest of his body is just as beautiful as the parts you’re allowed to see. But now all of him is on display, languidly laid out atop the bed as he grips his impressive length in a fist, pumping once before he’s reaching for you.

He manhandles you to straddle his stomach, your slick shining on his hot skin as you’re suddenly face to face with his dripping cock. And it’s so beautiful you can’t help the moan that crawls it’s way up from your ribcage and past your lips as lean forward to grip him with a much smaller hand than his. He’s so thick you can barely wrap your hand around all of him, something he chuckles darkly over as you feel one of his palms land with a sharp slap along your ass. You know he’s watching the ripple of your skin, the irritation of his action spring to life on your skin, the goosebumps that chase the shiver that runs down your spine and you feel yourself flutter around nothing.

“I said,” He gripped your hips painfully tight in his large hands, blunt nails digging into your flesh and pulls you down completely. His nose bumps into your puffy clit and you can’t help but cry out at the bolt of pleasure that rips through you. “Sit the fuck down.”

You were gone before the first swipe of his tongue through your slick folds, just the hot breath from his perfectly pouty mouth was enough to make your body sing. When the wet heat of his tongue licked through your folds, your eyes flutter shut at the scintillating feeling, his palms are wide across your cheeks as he pulls them apart to see all of you and you gasp at the wet sound. You feel your skin pull and you’re keening out a pathetic sound as his nose bumps against the puckered hole previously hidden from him. The fire coursing over your body, trying to catch the air of the room outside your body to roar, it’s only spurred on by the feel of him, hungry and taking what he wanted from the most intimate part of you.

“C’mon now, use that mouth for somethin’ other than talkin’.” He takes a moment, the barest, to lean back and bark the words at you. There wasn’t anything mutual about you going limp in his grip and you feel the tug of humiliation at folding so quickly and forgetting who had started this whole exchange in the first place.

He’s teasing you. But two can play at that game, you think even as pleasure roils too hot through your veins. Gripping his proudly standing cock more firmly at the base, you lower yourself, back arching and thighs tightening around his middle and press feather light kisses to his ruddy, leaking tip.  

He’s surprisingly loud, from the rumbles you can feel vibrating deep in his chest, to the slurps of his mouth as it moves against you, to the heavy pants he breaths in an out when he dares to pull away from between your legs. He’s never this loud with her, and the thought sends a thrill through you causing you to gush around his tongue as it slips inside. You can’t help your own moan around the head of his cock as you swallow it down, swirling your tongue over him as you taste him for the first time.

The grunt that vibrates through your folds as you swallow him down is satisfaction enough. He’s heavy on your tongue, the slight curl of him as at the angle allows for the underside of his cock to nudge along the ridges of the roof of your mouth, his blunt nails digging into your skin. You feel the vein just as clearly and he throbs, causing drool to dribble down to his heavy sack.

His teeth close around your clit, nibbling there as you begin to bob up and down at a fast pace. He’s suddenly thrusting up, his hips canting at the sensation and you gag as he hits the back of your throat.

“Take it,” He husks, doing it again. You retaliate by pressing back against him, body flat atop his as you relax your throat for him to continue. The air is thick with the scent of mutual arousal, everything coated in slick and sweat, your plain shirt sticking to your skin as heat crackles in the stagnant air. The smell of him is heady, all musk and something distinctly him as your nose nestles in the thatch of coarse hairs that he doesn’t keep trimmed, the soft velvet of his sack so hot against your face.

You hum as he stills, his thighs shaking beneath your hands as you try to support yourself. He slips from your mouth and the heft of him slaps into your cheek as you cry out at the intrusion of a slick thumb. You feel his grin as he nudges the digit further into your puckered hole, a sensation you hadn’t felt before.

“Never had anyone in here.” He boldly preens, reading the way your own body begins to tremble as you gush, there’s no way he missed it being buried in your cunt. Your only response is to grip him with one hand and resume a brutal pace, breath barely squeezing through your nostrils as you take him as deep as you can again and again. It’s loud, it’s lewd, it’s intoxicating the way he slurps and licks, nibbles and presses. The scratch of his facial hair against your inner thighs lighting you up, building up heat and pleasure in your lower abdomen. He’s twitching, from his fingers to his cock, to the thick thighs beneath you.

It's brutal the way you’re pushed to the edge, the fire taking your body for its own, brought on by unforgiving pace matched by unforgiving pace. Two people still playing for dominance even as you both relish in the tantalizing pleasure of the game. He seems determined to get you there before he finds his own release, and you clench around him he pushes you over the edge, his tongue lapping up everything you’ve given him as you feel his own muscles tense, before he’s spilling hot down your throat at the feeling of your suppressed moan all around him.

Panting, you release him from your mouth, swallowing down everything he had given you in return. The tart taste of him something you never anticipated getting a taste of. Your thighs burn as you push yourself up, the overwhelming dribble of his saliva and the remnants of your release are obvious as your cunt presses to his chest. You’re sure he can see the small bubbles of it as your folds close together, hiding from him where he had just buried his face. He seems to disagree with the shift in position because you’re suddenly face down on the covers of the bed, ass up in the air as he drapes himself over your back.

His thick fingers effortlessly trace your slit, fingers sparking another crest as he plunges two deep into your still fluttering core. You can’t bite back the guttural sound that claws its way from your chest as he curls them and begins to press them against a spot that most men ignore. You feel the length of him soft against the back of your thighs, unable to get it up again so soon after his own release, but it’s like he knows he could pull another orgasm from your willing body.

You hear the crack of his wrist as he pounds his fingers into you, straightening them out for the tips to kiss that spot deep inside and you cry out when he finds it. Head shooting up from the bed as your back arches in a silent plea for more.

“There it is, feels good don’t it, darlin’?” His words are gravel in your ear, the burn of his scruff against your neck welcome as he pushes you over the edge again far too quickly. The moan that rips from you is loud, nearly a wail in its intensity. Something he’s guaranteed to comment on. But he surprises you when he buries his nose into your hair as you clench and gush around his fingers. Nothing but an answering moan of his own floats into the air.

As suddenly as he had been on you, he’s no longer pressed against you. The heat of his body gone in the slow blink of an eye and shuddering pull of breath.

He’s across the room with a creak of the mattress and a shift of the floorboards under his weight. The sound of the shower being turned on is the only clue as to where he’s gone when you turn your head in search of him. Your body is shaky as you move into a normal position, the one you started in, perched at the edge of his shared bed. You quickly pull on your socks, your jeans, stuff your feet into the boots he had unlaced and shucked from you in his haste. Your underwear is nowhere to be found and you don’t linger on what that could mean as you exit the apartment.

An hour later you’re slinking through the space beneath a stretch of chain link fence, pulling the board of plywood that settles over it as another pair of hands disperses dirt over it to hide the hole. Your mind is calm, but your chest feels like an overinflated balloon as you seem to hold your breath for far too long.

Only once the lights of the zone are a mile behind you, do you stop and let it all out in a heavy exhale.

“We leavin’ before the sun or after?” Joel breaths the words out on a heavy exhale, his heart beating fast in beneath his ribs. Tess takes a moment to catch her own breath before she grants him an answer, reaching over for the water glass sweating on the floor beside the bed. Her eyes trail over the naked expanse of his chest, fingers reaching to comb through the hair beginning to show the same threading of silver as the hair atop his head. He doesn’t feel anything when she does, his body satiated from the shared pleasure he had initiated in his half-asleep state after hearing people begin to stir all along the hall in the early hour.

Her breasts catch his eye, the way the jiggle and sway with her motions to slump back against the collection of flat pillows at the head of the bed. He idly wonders what you’ve got hidden beneath your own clothing and as soon as the thought crosses his mind, he frowns. She turns to him, after her own eyes drag up his body, from the knee he props up to relieve his back a little, the softening bulge of him hidden beneath the sheet, to the way he watches her with something behind his eyes.

“Before. Cane’s already left. We don’t have the advantage of her helping guide us in person.”

“What?” He sits up, the sheet falling to hide his lap as his knee flattens.

“She left hours ago. Weren’t you paying attention?” Tess doesn’t budge, though it’s obvious that his reaction is unusual and he knows she’s thinking it.

“Stupid girl,” He mutters as he stands, the sheet falling from him completely as he reaches to pull on his discarded jeans. The belt clinks as he fastens it, but Tess doesn’t move at all.

“She can handle her own, Joel. You’ve seen it firsthand.”

“That’s all fine and dandy but this is a new trade partner. And you’ve been the only one in contact with them. Through the radio. Could be a trap.”

“You think I’m stupid enough to send out our scout into a potential trap?”

“Think we shoulda all left together, is all.”

“Why are you worried about her?”

“I’m not, don’t put words in my mouth.” He balks, unable to tame his anger at being scrutinized. He knows he’s acting out of character, but the possibility of there being a threat is real. If you’re really out beyond the parameters of the zone and well past the city limits there’s no where for you to seek cover.

“Joel-“

“Drop it, Tess.” He barks, unable to hide his frustration, to tame it as it flares as quickly and rapidly as a wildfire.

“Alright.” She pushes up from the bed, padding through their shared space bare as she gathers a clean pair of clothes and shuts the bathroom door behind her. Joel knows the scent of sex lingered in the stagnant air of the apartment, that she would be able to tell if was different from times before. Because it hadn’t been just him taking seeking pleasure, he had been doing so with you. As frustrating and bullheaded and downright petulant as you were, there was no denying the scent of you two tangled up that had encompassed the room in such a heady way.

Grunting, Joel rests on the edge of the bed. Adrenaline coursing through his veins as he recalls the night before. He had been rash in his decision to take you up on your offer, the second in as many days, for some ‘relief to calm him the hell down’ as you put it. A line had been crossed but he was like a dog after his first taste of actual food, craving and hungry for more. Willing to get it at any cost and the want burns his skin, boils his blood, consumes him. You had been his for that small bubble of time and he feels the possession sear as it brands him into a different man.

He wasn’t daft, he knew you had soft spots beneath all that rough and violent exterior. Everyone did. But he hadn’t expected to obsess over how sweet it had been for you to roll over and show him, to submit to him the way you had. The way he had with you in return, even if you weren’t aware of it. But the obsession to have rid you of the smell of the other men that had touched you, marked you, filled you had been too much. He wanted them all to smell the lingering scent of him on your skin the next time you decided to visit that pleasure house. And that was the thought that didn’t sit well with him. You weren’t his beyond the activities of the night before. And he didn’t want you any more than a dog in heat, your supple skin and taunting words just the trigger to pull the desire from him.

There was no use for desire in what the world had turned into, crumbled into during the last seven years.

The last time he desired, he wanted, he truly felt, had ended in devastation.

It’s well into the day, the sun at its apex as the two of them come into view and your mind quiets a little.

They make such a good-looking pair, you can’t help but think as they walk through the brush into the opening that houses the remains of a quickie mart. You’re sat on the hard ground, the asphalt long cracked and dried, no longer upholding the meaning of its given namesake. Nothing was secure in this world, especially the things created and molded by the hands of man. Nature had taken it all back, destroyed what it didn’t like and infected the rest it couldn’t.

“They check out?”

“Yes, two men. Just like you said.” You stand, ignoring the crackling of your joints as you do so, aware that you look far less put together than either of them. You had been rash and immediately after your time in their shared apartment, unwilling to toss and turn in your own bed with your ears on alert for signs of the woman’s return. You had nothing against her, she was good once and maybe still wanted to be beneath it all. There wasn’t some unspoken rule that they were each other’s but you still felt like you had maybe crossed a line, the minute guilt making your stomach churn as you took in the effort she had put into looking nice for today.

Your mind replayed the feeling of Joel’s mouth on you and it brought a scowl to your face as you realized even he looked rather put together. They made a good pair, and you were just on the outskirts. A lap dog indeed, even if they had come to you. Fuck, it made you feel like the weak link, even if deep down you knew you weren’t. They were both smart, strong, cunning, but they still struggled to understand the ways in which you undermined and ensured different paths in and out of the zone. How you seemed to always know who had what to trade and how to get their supply from them with just the right trade offer or threat. They were good, separately and together, but you were better adapted to the zone’s particulars. Better at reading people, even if it meant you could read into your own actions and feelings just as easily.

“They’ve got the whole town secure. Electric fence, operated by one control panel and two remotes. It’s strong, has a sensor if anything touches it. Saw a squirrel get fried. They’ve laid traps all around, some are covered pits, really well hidden. Some are spring traps, a bear trap or two, marks are nondescript and someone not looking for them wouldn’t notice them.”

“But you did.” Joel’s tone drips in disbelief, not at your ability to gather all of the information but that you had practically fled the second he left you alone on the bed the night before to do so.

“Yes.” You don’t look at him, instead keeping eye contact with Tess. “They both around the perimeter in the morning and evenings, it looks like they’re doing it to keep in shape but one of them always has his eyes on the fence. He’s constantly checking for weak points, for repairs or modifications that can be made. There also seems to be cannisters hidden a few feet beneath the main posts for the fence, every fifteen feet or so. Piping runs down to them, I didn’t dig one up but it seems like they may have some sort of fuel. For either a deterrent of an explosion, which I doubt because then it would compromise the structure of the fence, or a flame thrower of some sort to catch people off guard should they get too close and trigger it.”

“You found all that out in just a couple hours?” Tess must share in the man’s sentiment, because her eyes rove over you. Seeing the dirt sunk into your skin, the ruffled appearance of your clothes, the bags underneath your eyes, the frizz of your hair barely contained in a messy bun atop your head.

“You left last night.” It’s not a question, it’s an accurate observation. Joel’s the one to bring it to light and you only nod in agreement. The timing of this new potential trade relation and the passage of time since they had first approached the zone all coming together in their minds.

“Today is…”

“Yes.” You turn away from them, not wanting to talk about it. Never wanting to talk about it, the reason for your loneliness in a world that couldn’t care less.

You hear them exchange words quietly between themselves as you step away to gather your pack, shouldering it and beginning to lead the way to the path that had been outlined for you to approach the town on by those within in. After another mile, all three of your are on a dirt path that leads directly up to the fence. The figures of the men you had spent hours watching over are stood on the other side. But as you get closer, one of them shifts from blurry to start detail. He must recognize you at the same time, because his thick brows disappear into his hairline and his teeth glint in the sunlight as a smile takes over his face, relief and excitement colors the air. Breaking the tension that bathed every interaction in the time of now.

“Bill, she’s the one I told you about!”

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[hauntedhowlett-writes]

okay consider this:

dark smuggler!joel using his knife to cut your panties off and turn them into hand ties

no? just me? i’m writing it anyways

[tojisloft]

"i can fix him" well i can take him as he is. unhinged and dangerous.

[gutsby]

Cry, Baby

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel fucks you to the point of tears. That’s all.

Warnings: 18+. Dacryphilia (kinda). Unprotected p-in-v. Girthy, unspecified age gap. Daddy kink. Jealous Joel.

Notes: Sorry for using pussy pronouns. It will happen again.

Joel Miller was a man of few words in most every place except the one where he found himself about to beat the brakes off your pussy. Then he never shut the fuck up.

“Uh-huh…just a little more…I know, sweet girl, I know.”

You had your hands at 10 and 2 on the steering wheel of his ‘71 Ford F-100, but rather than driving anywhere, your ass was comfortably parked on the front of his jeans—straddling his lap backwards while you rubbed your half-clad cunt over stonewashed denim. It was hell.

You’d been grinding against the bulge beneath those jeans so hard, and for so long, your white cotton undies had parted to the side, and your pleasure was nearly stretched commensurate with just how pathetic you felt.

Your head dropped between your two hands on the black molded plastic of the wheel, and you let out a whine.

“Joel—”

“Keep goin’.”

“This ain’t fair!”

Without hesitation, the hands that were holding your hips tightened their grip, and now Joel was raking your lower half over his. Rutting your core back and forth.

“You wanna know what ain’t fair?” he seethed.

He didn’t wait for you to answer.

“How much she’s been droolin’ over me all night.”

‘She’ meaning your unfucked cunt, of course.

Joel then punctuated his sentence with a particularly hard press of his palm—forcing you to lay flat on the steering wheel, hips tilted back to him. With just one callused finger of his other hand, he found you soaked between your folds. He dragged it from your clit to your aching hole, and you heard him sigh, as though sad.

“It’s a cryin’ shame,” Joel said. Lamenting.

You were almost lost to the sensation of his finger rubbing you up and down, but somehow, you managed, ‘W-W-What is, Joel?’ in between soft, plaintive sounds.

Sometimes you forgot how much older he was than you. Sometimes you said he was just like the boys your age. Other times he had you pinned like this, breaths calm and cruelly measured while you damn near came apart beneath his hand, and then you remembered everything.

“You just couldn’t wait ‘til we got home,” he grumbled.

Using the same hand he’d been stroking you with, Joel laid a quick slap to your cunt, and you jumped. Your head narrowly missed the roof of his truck; still, you groaned.

“‘M’sorry, Joel,” you keened.

You weren’t. The old man knew you weren’t.

The hand that had been splayed over your back sank in. The force of that push pressed your belly to the chipped Ford logo at the center of the steering wheel, and with the added pressure went the blare of the car’s horn.

The sound might’ve lasted two seconds before you scrambled back, desperate, into Joel’s broad chest. A couple old-timers making their way from the bar to their cars in the parking lot cocked their heads curiously in your direction a couple yards away. Seeing nothing of note, they lost interest just as quick and kept walking.

“Sorry for what?” Joel said.

At the moment, he didn’t seem to notice, or care, that his truck was parked a mere stone’s throw away from the Tipsy Bison, and bar-goers were milling freely between the building and the cars all around you. His belt unbuckled all the same, zip came down in a blink, and his thick, veiny, throbbing, and angry cock came to rest between your cheeks. He started to push you forward.

“Sorry for— for flirtin’ with Tommy,” you stammered, sucking in a breath when you felt him run the head of his cock between your lips. You could hear a soft squelch.

“And Lucien?”

“And Lucien.”

“And—”

“And Dieter, and Frankie, and Javi, and Marcus.”

Rattling off the names of all the men you’d been flirting with at the bar to make Joel jealous and take you back home to fuck you became an embarrassing chant.

“And?”

“…and Mayor Garcia,” you completed, sheepishly.

Back in there, you hadn’t been too proud to stoop to a politician’s level, even. That was how needy you’d been to get attention, and now Joel was giving it to you.

As hard as he could—he didn’t wait for the ‘OK’ before seating you on his cock. You were simply pulled back from the wheel and into his lap, onto his stiff erection, and before you could steady yourself, he started drilling.

“Even through these panties—” Joel tugged at the cream-colored cotton he’d easily slipped past, “—even through that slutty little skirt, I could feel how wet she was.”

Your eyes squeezed shut, and your hands found purchase in the torn-up leather of the seat, fisting strings and patches of fabric in a helpless sort of plea as Joel took over. With the buttons of his dark green flannel searing a stripe down your spine and his grey-speckled chin coming to nudge between your neck and your shoulder as he fucked you, you felt content. Secure.

Spilling more for him, then. Seeping rivers down the length of his shaft as he breached your walls and made you his all over again. And again. Leaving trails of arousal with every thrust, and rolling your head, limply, into his.

“She cryin’ for me?” Joel breathed, “Or somebody else?”

As if on cue, his cock hit the most sensitive ridge inside you, and you felt yourself gush even more. Dripping now.

“You.” Your voice was raw.

“Me?” Joel’s degradingly sweet.

Before you could answer ‘you’ once more, the driver’s door cracked open beside you both. For one panicked, terrifying second, you thought someone from the bar might’ve caught you two—then you were stunned to look over and see it was Joel’s own tough, steel-toed boot that had propped the door open to the cool night air.

The truck was facing the bar’s front door, shielded only by some foliage and a hatchback car about half its size. Other than that, you were exposed to whoever happened to pass by the big, bay window and take a look inside.

Joel felt you tense, and he pressed a kiss to you neck. Then he slid you carefully, almost tenderly, to the left until you were perched over the side of the seat with your legs dangling out of the truck—still filled to the hilt with his cock and pressed tight to the front of his chest.

“Cry a little more,” he urged.

Then, when your pussy gave an involuntary clench and drenched him some more, he slipped a hand around your front and started toying with your clit. Your gaze was wide, almost frightened as you stared ahead at the bar and saw patrons making rounds about the tiny place, fearing one might see you and Joel, but it felt so good. And wrong. And reckless, having this man who was easily decades your senior bouncing you up and down on his cock and letting you soil the front of his Wranglers.

“Pussy’s fuckin’ soakin’ me, pretty girl,” Joel let out a chuckle and gave your shoulder a playful bite when you pulsed around him again, “Squeezin’ me real tight, too.”

It was like your body was beyond your own control. You scarcely even realized your cunt had him gripped with such force, much less made a mess of his old denim. He just held you to him and kept pressing rough, stubbled kisses to your shoulder, reminding you over and over how sweet you were, how well you were taking him, how nice and tight and goddamn pretty that pussy must’ve looked gushing around daddy’s cock—maybe we can fuck in front’a the mirror so we can see it later, huh, baby?

You would’ve said yes to anything he said, you reckoned.

Especially when his arms moved over your front and you felt him grin, and he hugged you while he fucked you—nobody made you feel quite as special while they were splitting you open. Nobody’s balls felt quite as heavy and firm and full while hitting your ass by turns, and certainly no one but Joel could make you cum just as quick when he leaned into your ear and said, ‘Let go for me, darlin’.’

You did, and you felt his warmth follow inside you with the friction of just two more thrusts. Your head fell back on his shoulder, a moan clawed out of your throat, and the warm, euphoric feeling of release washed over your senses in waves, one trembling sensation after the next. Joel’s groans were quick to spill into your own, and, likewise emptying himself, he held your hips to his and made sure every drop stayed right where he wanted it.

His spend was always heavy, but this load felt larger than usual—like he’d been aching to fuck you full of his cum. Just as you both were coming down from your highs, you couldn’t help but key in on that soft, sticky warmth, likely to come oozing as soon as Joel pulled out of you.

In fact, you got to be so focused that you jumped when you felt something press to your cheek a second later.

It took another moment to register it as a kiss from Joel.

Then his tongue, dragging softly up the side of your face.

You started to laugh, about to ask him what the hell he was doing, when you felt a tear slip out of your other eye. With the sudden, sharp influx of pleasure, the moisture had leaked out without you even feeling it. Joel grinned.

He gave your cheek a light squeeze, wiped the other tear with the pad of his thumb, and kissed you again before mumbling in your ear, almost teasing as he said it:

“Crybaby.”

[colleenispunk]

i want him to squeeze me.

[chaotic-mystery]

I have something for a request.

So Joel promised your father he would protect you from the Clickers and other people.

So you and Joel are walking through the forest and you start to annoy him. Because you are constantly asking how long does it take to get to the destination.

Joel had enough so he takes your virginity and your ass virginity roughly. So you shut up.

pairing: Post Outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

content warnings: DARK CONTENT AHEAD, PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+ only. Non-consensual that turns consensual. You are responsible for what you read. Daddy kink, rough sex, assplay if you close an eye, pet names galore (little one, pet, playtoy, baby girl, Joel refers to himself as daddy, you get the picture.) mean!Joel, Dark!Joel, choking, reader has hair long enough to pull, dirty talk, unprotected p in v, dacryphilia, pull out game strong, this is post outbreak but before Ellie so you know he got that stamina, Joel takes your virginity. LET ME KNOW IF I'VE MISSED ANYTHING. ||word count: 1.9k || follow @chaoticnotifs so you don't miss anything!||

authors note: This is so out of my normal and honestly I hope I did it justice! I know this isn't everyone's thing and that's okay! I personally pictured game Joel but that's just my preference. As always I love you all 🖤

“Will you please shut the fuck up?! All that goddamn talkin’ you’re doin, you’re gonna get us killed, Jesus Christ.” Joel barked as he turned on his heel, his rifle in hand. Joel promised your dad to keep you safe and while he has for a few years, it hasn’t been the easiest thing to do. You talked way too much for Joel’s liking but a promise was a promise.

“I’m just asking how much longer until we get to the tower…fuck me.” You grumble, annoyed at him for being so moody today. You were sweaty and tired, wanting to go back to the QZ in your little apartment you shared with Joel. He was over all your bullshit for today, sick of your smartass mouth just running and running without any repercussions.

“What’d you say t’me, little girl?” He snaps, the rifle falling to his side as his hand wraps around your throat and he pushes you into a tree trunk. The bark was hard against your back and scratched you, but it was nothing compared to the feeling you were having on your windpipe.

“N-nothing, Joel- nothing!” The words barely choked out of you, just enough for him to hear you beg.

“All you’ve been doin’ since we’ve been out here is talkin’ your pretty head off. What did I tell ya not even five minutes ago? Use that big girl voice since you wanna be big and bad.” Joels lips ghosted over the shell of your ear before he presses a rough sloppy kiss on your cheek. This was all so sudden, so new to you. No one has ever touched you like this, especially an older man like Joel. He was aggressive and mean, didn’t care about the fact his grip on your throat was tightening. He wasn’t in the mood to ask if any of this was okay with you, where his hands were quickly traveling to, none of it. Joel wanted to take what he wanted from you without you running your mouth.

A deep grumble erupts from Joel against your face, another sloppy kiss on your cheek while his tongue licks against your flesh. “Say it again, now.”

“I was just asking if we were close to the tower and-d that I was s-sorry-y!” You cried out, squirming under his touch trying to free yourself. With your back squished against the tree, there was nowhere to go. All you could do was plead and beg for him to let go and leave you be.

“What was that last part you’re leavin’ out, sweetheart?” The smirk on his face is so present in his tone you don’t even need to look at him. Joel’s freehand comes up your side, brushing against the bare skin peaking above your jeans. He could feel you trembling with fear and excitement. Joel knew you were still a virgin, he never let you out of his sight and always took the same work shifts as you so he could keep you close.

“I-ah shit- I said fuck me but I didn’t mean it like th-” Joels hand creeps up to your jaw and grabs it roughly, squishing your cheeks together and your eyes met his.

“Don’t care how you meant it sweetheart, planned on doin’ that anyway.” His smirk never faded and he without warning rips your jeans down, your panties tangled in them as the fabric bunches around your knees. The whimper that escaped your lips didn’t phase Joel as his hands wandered up your thighs to your slick covered cunt.

The guttural groan he let out rattled through your bones enough to make a chill run down your spine.

“Fuck are you so wet for, huh little one? Couldn’t control yourself could ya? Probably love the idea of being my playtoy while I take what I want and you’re beggin’ me to quit..but you know daddy won’t do that.” With his hand covering your mouth and squeezing tightly, your pleads were so muffled he could barely make out what you were saying.

Joel unbuckles his belt and pushes his pants to his ankles before he grabs you by the back of your neck and spins you around, forcing you against the tree once more as his hand pushes against the small of your back to make you arch for him. His hand reaches around your hips to dip down between your folds, rubbing harshly on your clit as the head of his cock nudged against your ass cheek.

You tried everything to pry his hand away from your mouth but he only squeezed tighter, growling at your attempts. “Might as well give up now, it’ll go over a lot better for you if you quit fightin’ me, sweet girl.” He mutters in your ear as he starts to ram his cock inside your entrance. He doesn’t let you get adjusted to him at all and the tears fall immediately down your cheeks. You cry out in pain, shoving his hips away from you but he doesn’t stumble back at all.

“Joel ple-ase it h-hurts” you murmur against his palm and he just chuckles as he begins to thrust inside you.

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth before I fill it for you, am I clear? S’okay, you’re just a little virgin, don’t know what you like. I’ll teach you what you like, baby; trust me.” He scolded. It felt as if you were being shredded and ripped apart from the inside out with the way he was carving away at you.

The only manageable response you gave him was a distressed “yes d-addy” which was just enough to make his head toss back while his hips slam into yours so harshly, the faint slapping of your skins echoed around you.

He lets go of the grip he has on your mouth, a string of saliva following from your lips to his palm and he grabs onto your shoulders to keep himself steady. Joel doesn’t dare let you see how much he’s enjoying this; ruining you and taking every bit of last innocence you had. His jaw was clenched tightly to keep his grunts at bay but it was still audible how much he loved feeling you clench around him so tightly, hugging his cock for dear life. Soon enough your pain turned to pleasure and you were fucked out of your mind, gripping onto the tree truck and begging for him not to stop as the pressure built up in your tummy.

“I knew you’d be a tight little virgin but damn sweetheart..” he leans in close and his hand finds its way around your throat once more, yanking you against him, “..you’re gonna be so dickdumb by the time I’m through with you-ughh- you’ll be beggin’ for me to fill you full every goddamn second you’re awake.” Joel’s other hand cups your tit through your thin shirt, kneading away mercilessly as your nipples get stiffer against your bra.

“J-joel please..I..I’m gonna come..” you whine out, body trembling and making it harder to stand up on your wobbling legs. Suddenly your head is being yanked backwards by your hair and Joel’s lustful eyes meet yours, his jaw still clenched tightly.

“Don’t you dare come until I say so. Be a good pet for daddy, mkay? Stay jus’ like that f’me, right there. Oh fuck, baby..” He stops thrusting long enough to put you down on the ground and him right behind you, shoving your face into the dirt with your ass in the air. In no time he finds his rhythm again and gives your ass a firm smack with a chuckle following behind it.

Joel slips the tip of his thumb in his mouth, covering it in spit before he traces over your asshole and goes inside you, groaning loudly as he can feel his cock pumping in and out of you just from having his thumb in your ass.

It’s taking every ounce of control not to come on his cock and disappoint him even more than you already have tonight. With your legs squeezed together as hard as you can, it wasn’t enough to keep your mind off of having the best orgasm you have ever had.

Sure, you touched yourself all the time while Joel was asleep in the next room over back in the apartment, squirming and whimpering like a kitten as your mind wandered to Joel and ran images over your eyes that just made it so easy to come for yourself. This however was not what you imagined Joel would be like. You imagined he’d be sweet, wanting to make your first time feel special and all that stuff you watched in movies before the outbreak. He was none of that.

“You want me to break you in two and just make your world crumble, huh? You filthy little one. You’re my toy now, no one can save you from me.” He spat as his thrusts got sloppy and his grip on your hips got tighter, nails digging into your flesh.

With your body fighting itself to not orgasm, your tears spilled out of your eyes once more, breaths so deep you squeak every time you inhale.

“Cry all you want, brat. They don’t mean shit t’me.”

“Daddy, ple-ease let me come-oh, fuckkk- I- I can’t hold off m-much longer, plea-se I’ll be good, pleaseee.” Trying to speak through gritted teeth, you begged and pleaded trying to reason with him so you could finally release.

“Come on then, let that fuckin’ pussy come all over me. Let me feel what it's like to have a virgin fall apart on my cock and beg me not to fill them up.”

The evil tone was enough to send you reeling and your eyes rolled back tightly as you finally released that pressure you had to put off.

“What a good fuckin’ pet you are for Daddy. That’s ittt.” He purrs, slamming into your hips as he panted loudly.

Your body felt numb and you were still seeing stars, your ears ringing and his moans were so muffled you couldn’t do anything but jolt as the waves of your orgasm washes over you. Soon enough he rips is cock out of your entrance and you feel empty, already missing him inside you.

Joel grunts and cusses loudly as he paints a pretty picture on your asscheek with his cum.

You fall to your side and catch your breath while Joel goes soft in his hand, watching you as he tries to manage his own breathing.

“Maybe next time you’ll listen to me, won’t you baby?”

[soft-cryptids]

They are just so father & daughter, your honor. 

[kedsandtubesocks]

seasons of you (year 1 - spring)

Farmer!Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: it’s your very first spring living in the valley & you’re very sure Joel Miller already wants you leave

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, stardew valley AU, reader is a new farmer & has a family but no physical description, mentions of unspecified age gap (reader’s age is not mentioned but Joel is older & in his 50’s) very light use of gendered language, handyman & farmer!Joel, grumpy!Joel, wound tending & blood imagery, discussion of family loss with light navigation of grief, Ellie being Joel’s daughter, secret softie!Joel, alcohol consumption mention, use of nickname, budding romance

word count: 5.4k

a/n: our first ‘Joel’ fic for our stardew AU series! Here’s to starting this new aventure with y’all! I couldn’t have the strength to post this without @swiftispunk @lowlights @ahauntedcowboy @burntheedges @perotovar you angels don’t know how much I appreciate y’all and am so grateful for you babes…and to you, if you read this - I’m so thankful for you too ♡

No one in Pelican Town hates you more than Joel Miller does. George, the crabby older elderly man in town, might be a close second, but Joel has him beat by miles.

For someone so incredibly handsome, almost beautiful in a rugged wilderness way with his misty mountain gray hair and sharp lovely nose, his glare could wither your entire family farm’s field.

“He’s just an ass sometimes.” Your Dad had told you with a sigh over the phone. “Been that way even when your gramps was around.”

At first you didn’t want to fully admit it but yeah, Joel is a prickly cactus of a man.

He owns a farm further down the path from yours. You love walking by it when you take the long way home and getting to spot all the sheep roaming around his fields. He’s also the town’s handyman.

“A jack of all trades, more like it.” Pierre, the main store owner, snickered that to you while Joel was in the store fixing a light fixture.

After that Joel helped you set up your first fencing gate. Then he fixed your sink. And then your water heater.

It’s been a lot and you know it. You feel guilty at how bad you can’t seem to get a hang of this new life yet. Your grandpa did it, thrived even. You can too, or you hope you can.

Until Joel glares at you like you’re a bug ready to squash, then you feel incredibly small.

Once you physically and accidentally ran into him walking out of the blacksmith’s shop when he was heading in. You sputtered out an apology, but without a single word Joel walked past you as if you weren’t even worth his time.

One night you went to the town’s saloon hoping to maybe mingle and get to know everyone better. But simply seeing him sitting inside made you turn on your heels and scramble out.

From that point on you’ve been avoiding him.

But now unfortunately, a few paces away from Joel Miller’s farm, your hand bleeds out a bit aggressively.

“Shit.” You hiss, slipping off your backpack to search for your mini first aid kit.

Yesterday you stubbornly tried fixing your fence and accidentally scrapped your hand pretty bad against the wood. Earlier you believed you wrapped it good enough but now the blood soaking through the bandaid mocks you.

“You alright?!”

The sharp accented drawl rings out loud in the early morning and fear collides into you.

Of course Joel hadn’t left for the morning.

You yell back that you’re fine but scramble frantic now trying to find the damn first aid kit.

“Is that blood?” Joel snaps, sounding closer, as his boots rush against the dirt.

“No, I spilled paint.” You grumble to yourself annoyed.

“M’old but I fuckin’ heard that.” Damn.

He’s much closer now, so close his shadow falls over you but you refuse to look at him.

“What happened!?” He barks confused.

Sighing, you give up hope on finding the poor elusive first aid kit.

“Just cut my hand, that's all. It isn’t deep. I’m fine.” You reassure him.

Joel sighs angrily.

“Come on.”

Now you turn and discover his soil eyes stare at you with such a steeled intensity you almost want to scurry away.

“Fixin’ this up inside.” He doesn’t even ask or let you leave. With one yank Joel Miller pulls you towards his farmhouse.

“I’m fine.” You snap back.

“What? Just wanna let it bleed ‘n get everywhere?” An edge in Joel’s voice silences you.

Any argument you wanted to hiss out immediately floats away the moment you cross the threshold into his house. Your eyes go wide. You never once thought you’d ever see the inside of Joel Miller’s place.

It’s larger than your grandpa's.

Joel deposits you into his kitchen. The lingering smell of breakfast, possibly oatmeal with its warm cinnamon notes, hangs in the air. Yet you feel like a caught feral cat that doesn’t know how to react being inside a house for the first time.

So you let your eyes wander.

Beautiful wood cupboards line the walls. A fridge is covered with various papers held up by sweet colorful cartoonish magnets you never would’ve expected from him. A worn cozy, well loved, couch peeks out from the slight view of the living room you spot being inside the kitchen.

Joel’s house seems knitted together by a rustic weathered comfort. Yet, there’s a hollowness to the house, like it’s waiting for more spirit to fill the halls. You can’t pinpoint or describe the stillness here in this place, but you sense it.

After rustling around a drawer, Joel yanks out a rather impressive medical kit. Largely bulky and intimidating, like him, it’s no surprise a handyman and farmer has such a first aid kit.

“How’d it happen?” Joel asks gruff and quiet as he rummages around the bag.

You tell him and his seasoned face scrunches up frustrated.

“Why didn’t ya call and have me go fix it?”

You thought about that. But you couldn’t handle the thought of asking him to help again, to deal with his frustrated sighs and gruff annoyance. He barely said a word to you last weekend when he went to check your sink again.

“Don’t need you to fix everything.” You tell him composed while Joel pulls out various things to wrap your wound.

“Besides, I can fix things on my own.” You add firm.

“Not all the time.” He replies.

You stay quiet and watch his hands, large and callous, gingerly dab away all the crimson from your cut.

He’s never been this close to you. You catch the faintest smell of wood and of something clean crisp, his laundry detergent maybe. It threatens to fog your senses knowing he smells this lovely.

“Y’dont ask for help and shit like this happens.”

Your face hardens at Joel’s words. You even childishly want to yank away your hand and storm off.

“Look I get it, you barely tolerate me and think I can’t do shit. I know I’m still new, but this was an accident. It happens.” Your words come out harsher than you intended, sharpened scythes that cut through the room, and Joel freezes.

“I don’t think that.” He replies clear as a spring blue sky.

You want to bark a laugh of disbelief, but instead you simply stay silent.

Joel sighs, keeping his eyes on the medic tape he readies.

“And I… tolerate you.” He sputters like he’s trying to muster the words out.

A moment passes. Then Joel sighs, ancient and heavy.

“Don’t mind me. M’just some grumpy old fuck-”

“Hey you’re not old. You’re just grumpy.” You interrupt trying to ease the mood and your heart jumps hearing him snort.

“M’old.” He clarifies. He is older, older than you, and that fact creates a strange flutter in your chest you don’t want to explore just yet.

“And…don’t want ya feelin’ like shit.” He continues with a curt softness.

You never knew his voice could sound this layered, so tough but tender.

“Just tryin’ to look out for ya like your gramps asked me too.”

There’s a strange apology shaded in his words but you manage to catch it. A rush of emotions drown you in their current.

“You were close with my grandpa.” You comment with a curious question lingering below the surface.

“Yeah,” Joel answers low now tenderly moving to wrap your hand. “His ol’ ass used to keep me in place.”

You smirk fondly. That sounds like your gramps.

“Miss seein’ him walk by this place and hearin’ him complain that he likes the sheep more than me.”

Joel’s fond and aching voice digs its hooks into your soul. You miss gramps too, so much.

“Used to fish a lot together out by the lake.” He adds.

This is the most Joel Miller has ever spoken to you and you worry the sun might fall out of the sky soon.

“I bet he out fished you.” You tease soft.

Joel snorts. “Damn right he did.”

You can almost picture it clearly, your gramps and Joel laughing together, having a friendship.

“He’d be proud of ya.” Joel mutters but his words chime clear.

Your attention flickers to Joel. He keeps his focus steady on your hand. However his words crystallize deep in your heart and you blink away tears. You ever expected Joel Miller to almost make you cry like this.

“Thanks…means a lot.” You truthfully tell him while you swallow back the heartache and love threatening to spill over.

“He’d also say you’re a fuckin’ stubborn thing for not askin’ for help.”

You snort at that.

“Well you knew the old guy, it runs in the family.” You reply.

Joel chuckles.

It’s small - like the faint flash of seeing a cardinal in the trees. But you heard it, his amusement, and it’s lovely for a man quietly layered as him.

“Alright, all fixed up.”

The wrap is tight, secure, and speaks of his many times previously doing this before.

“Thank you Joel, appreciate it.” You do.

“Can't be a handyman if I can’t fix up people sometimes.” He shrugs but there’s a deadpan charm to his words you’re slowly catching now.

“Doctor and a handyman, no wonder the town keeps you around.” So you dryly joke back.

This moment isn’t much. Yet it feels like gaining a good step in the direction of something right and solid.

Gathering your things, you decide to head out. Even though curiosity claws at you to take in a few more moments being inside Joel Miller’s home, you have seeds to buy.

“Where ya headin’’ to?” Joel asks.

“Pierre’s.” You huff. “Need more parsnips.”

He hums a noise of acknowledgment.

Back outside the mid morning sun’s warmth soaks you in its gaze. Maybe you could fish for a bit before you head to the store. After all, the weather is so nice.

“Hey.” Joel barks out and before heading back on the road, you turn to him.

He’s a sight on his porch. You think of the typical romance movies of the handsome farmer trying to woo the newcomer in town and how right now he puts them all to shame.

Hands crossed over his chest, his broad shoulders seem like mountains against the doorway, so striking and large taking up the entire focus.

“Don’t hesitate to call y’hear? Don’t fuckin’ care what it is or what it’s for, call me.” Joel’s face is hardened and serious, reflecting the unwavering tone in his voice.

Something heated crawls up your throat and makes you dizzy. You blame it on the blood loss.

“Besides, s’what neighbors are for, right?” He adds a bit awkwardly.

It hits you. He’s the closest homestead to you. You are neighbors with him.

“Alright will do, promise.” You nod and mean your words.

“Thanks again neighbor.” Those words tingle on your lips.

Joel nods and with that you head out.

You’re on such a strange high you simply float straight to the pier and fish. It’s comforting being among the crashing waves, the sea breeze, and the wonderful weather. You also think of your gramps and Joel here.

But by the time the sky starts to turn into a ripe tangerine you realize in horror you forget to buy more seeds.

You almost scream in anguish when you find Pierre’s doors locked. Accepting momentary defeat, you head home.

When you reach your porch, there against the steps a bundle of parsnip seeds and a small pack of bandaids sit waiting for you.

- ☼ -

Your hope to quietly enjoy the egg festival, your true first event here in the valley, is diminished when Mayor Lewis practically drags you into the egg hunt saying it’s a rite of passage.

His deadly polite politician smile said there was no way you could worm your way out of participating. So you simply start the hunt thinking of the strawberry seeds you can’t wait to plant once this is over.

You’re not overly competitive, but these eggs are getting harder to find. You want to finish at least with some dignity.

Besides the area around Stardrop Saloon you scan every inch like a hawk. Someone coughs, clearing their throat, and it catches your attention.

Under the shade of the building, nursing a cold drink, Joel slightly turns towards you.

Now instead of a hawk you feel like a surprised field mouse caught in his gaze.

Without saying anything Joel flickers his eyes a couple of times towards the corner of the building. Is he giving you a hint?

Heading to the spot his eyes vaguely guided you to, you discover a colorful egg.

You almost want to keep it as proof this happened. Joel helped you.

By the time the egg hunt ends everyone already seems to be packing up and the mysterious Mr. Miller has vanished from the commotion.

Abigail wins the egg hunt and you aren’t even upset. In fact you walk home feeling like a champion.

The next morning on the help wanted and errands bulletin board in town you spot Joel’s name. Below it is a request asking for a small pack of wood.

You readily answer it and drop off the bundle eagerly, a way to help pay him back for everything.

The pretty decent payment he gives you is nice but the crooked soft hint of a grin on his face when you arrive to deliver the request is worth iridium.

A few days after that he mails you a recipe. The letter is so simply Joel - a straightforward recipe then a scribbled JM below it. You hang the letter up proudly on your fridge.

Spring blooms more and more before your eyes.

You decide to take advantage of it by foraging for the day.

“Where y’heading?”

You’ve been taking the long way to the forest these past few weeks in hopes of seeing him again. Now that you’re not actively avoiding him, you discover, small town or not, Joel is a surprisingly busy man.

When you catch glimpses of him, instead of glares being thrown your way, Joel Miller simply nods acknowledging you. Comforting as it is to know he doesn’t outright detest, you don’t like how much you hope to run into him more.

Now he’s here sliding on his backpack while moving to lock his gate.

“Just heading to the forest, gonna forage and walk around for the day.” You answer him.

“Works out, hafta head that way myself.” Joel explains falling into step besides you.

Alone with Joel Miller once again.

The small talk comes - asking each other how your days have been, anything new or interesting happening. The heat is starting to pick up announcing summer’s close arrival. Thankfully it’s still not unbearably hot as you and him fully enter the woods.

Cindersap forest is tranquil. A beautiful glimmering evergreen haven you enjoy simply strolling through. You never thought you’d ever be here with Joel.

“No new crops coming in?”

“Nothing exciting.” You shrug. “I’m more upset that I didn't plant any tulips this season.”

“Those your favorite?” Joel asks, surprisingly curious.

“Not mine, my gramps.” Your memories of the farm might be hazy, but you always remembered fresh tulips in the kitchen.

“They’re for the fairies.” Gramps would tell you with a wink.

You were bummed after realizing Pierre had flower seeds and it was too late to see them bloom in your kitchen.

“Damn,” Joel sighs. “Ain't your fault. Pierre’s an ass and hides all the good shit, flower seeds included.”

You’re almost positive Pierre doesn’t do that, but you burst out laughing.

A giddy twinkling glee consumes you and fills you buoyant. He’s trying to comfort you in his own Joel way. And it’s dangerous how fast you’re growing to enjoy the company of this grumpy cactus of a man.

You move to snag a few dandelions and wild horseradishes. You make a face at one that smells a bit ripe and decide to leave it for the forest.

“You can eat those y’know.” Joel comments.

“Yeah so I’ve heard.” You tried your first ever daffodil this month. “A wild horseradish might be a bit too much right now though, but who knows. Maybe one day I’ll try ‘em.”

“My kid used to eat these all the damn time. Never took a likin’ to ‘em myself.” Joel grumbles kicking the disposed horseradish.

Kid.

“You have a kid?” You ask curiously.

Joel blinks to you and there’s a gleam in his earth eyes of something reserved slowly revealing itself.

“Uh… yeah. A daughter. Ellie.”

A daughter. He’s a dad.

It fits him in a way that you never would have expected.

“She doesn’t live here?” You ask but then quickly apologize for pressing the subject. Joel waves you off, casual and unbothered.

“She did, just graduated highschool this year. Wanted to do the whole college deal. She lives out west now.”

So he’s an empty nester.

Delicately, wanting to know more about him and his daughter, you ask about her.

Joel inhales deep then exhales slowly, as if an immovable weight on his shoulders rattles deep to his bones.

“She’s a headache, my Ellie.” Fondness trickles out of Joel a steady stream.

“Stubborn, damn near impossible to argue with cause she’s so fuckin’ smart. Got a good heart. Good head on her shoulders too, wants to be an astronaut.”

“An astronaut?! That’s incredible!” You exclaim in brilliant excitement.

Like the proud dad he is, adoration tugs at Joel’s lips.

“Yeah, been wantin’ to be one for years. That’s why she’s going to school.”

“She sounds incredible, Joel. You must be proud.” You earnestly tell him.

“I am…” His voice is thick, and you don’t miss the way his eyes gloss over distant and misty.

You decide not to press the subject any further. He instead does it for you.

“She loved livin’ here until the damn flower festival rolled around. Then she’d swear up ‘n down about how much she hated this town and was gonna leave the second she could.”

The flower festival is just days away. The town swirls in a controlled chaos for its arrival.

You laugh warm. “I’m guessing she’s not a fan of dancing.”

“Takes after me.” Joel nods.

“Ahh…so guess that means you’re not asking anyone to dance this year.” You comment lightly and Joel snorts.

“Ain’t danced with anyone in a very long time.”

A wistful ace now twists your heart thinking of Joel alone in his home, alone watching the others in town pair off.

“You gonna ask anyone?” Joel turns the question around to you and you almost choke on an inhale.

Not wanting to get flustered or react wildly you focus on the wild springs among the lush forest.

“Uh no. Don’t think anyone wants to dance with the newbie in town. Which is fine.” You answer.

There are lovely and gorgeous people in town. Some have caught your eye. However, you didn’t feel brave or interested enough to ask anyone to dance. And no one seemed intended to ask for your hand in the dance, and you find you’re not too upset about that.

Joel hums low, a sign you’re catching on means he’s listening without having to reply much.

“Hopin’ someone will ask ya to dance?” That question takes you by surprise.

You shrug not wanting to fully answer the question either.

Someone suddenly calls out to Joel from behind. At the edge of the forest leading back into town stands Maria, the town’s legal counsel and assistant mayor.

“Caught playing hooky, busted.” You snicker and Joel scoffs.

Maria yells out Joel’s name again.

“Can you come back to town and help us with something? Thought you’d be at home seeing how it’s your day off today. I’ve been trying to call ya but nothing went through.” She yells.

The service here in the forest was awful compared to the town, a hard lesson you’ve learned quickly.

But you also don’t miss Maria’s comment.

Joel had today off. Yet he decided to stay a bit with you. That thought has teeth and you can’t stop their bite from sinking into your heart.

Joel groans but doesn't hesitate to head towards where the assistant mayor stands. Maria of course spots you and a wonderful grin lights up lovely her face.

“It’s good to see you.” She calls out.

“You too!” You reply back thankful your voice is level.

Joel glances over his shoulder to catch your eye.

“Good luck foragin’. Don’t eat any weird shit.”

You sputter out a squawk at his casual comment.

“Next time I see you, I’m giving you a wild horseradish!” You playfully snap the ridiculous reply before you can even stop yourself, but Joel thankfully rolls his eyes unbothered.

Maria’s eyes however flicker curiously between you and Joel. Too many emotions heat up your skin now. So bidding Joel and Maria a quick goodbye you stomp back into the forest to continue foraging.

Now along in the woods, your thoughts still think of Joel. The bag of parsnip seeds, the bandages, and the recipe, come to mind. You never once discussed any of it with him or him with you. It’s something you keep locked in your heart, just like today will be.

Soon the day melts into early twilight. You snag a couple of dandelions and a few other forageables before deciding to head home.

Joel’s farm house looms quietly still with no lights. You can’t bring yourself to open the gate to his farm and walk up to the house.

So instead you place a few dandelions along with a nice fresh large wild horseradish on top of the mailbox by his gate then head home.

Even when you unwind for the night, you mind still feels like it’s snagged on Joel Miller, still there with him foraging in the forest.

- ☼ -

The flower dance, as strange of a custom as it is, is rather ethereal. So many vivid floral arrangements decorate the space with dynamic colors and the air even smells fresh.

The flower dance honors the legacy of celebrating the final days of spring. But it also is a celebration of love blooming.

“It has roots dating back to fertility rituals.” Demetrius, ever the town scientist, told you while you were chatting with him and his wife.

He was right of course. The flower dance is the opportunity for someone to extend a hand of romantic feelings towards another. Those who hope to participate in the couples dance, or possibly win the crown of Flower Queen, are dressed in glorious attire. Soft light fabrics and flowers woven into crowns create a scene conjured out of a fairy’s kingdom.

Compared to the others in lovely attire with flowers in their hair, you didn’t even dress up or change out of your messy dirt covered jeans. And the only flowers in your hair are actually twigs and leaves from cleaning up more of your property.

With no need to worry about someone asking you to dance, you instead simply enjoy the various foods prepared for the occasion.

“Be careful, the salsa actually has a pretty good kick.” You’re about to go in for a second helping when a gentle accented voice floats out to you.

Besides you is a man with the kindest eyes you’ve seen. Faintly you recognize his face and can recall seeing him around town.

“Tommy Miller.” He reintroduces himself seeing your slight hesitation and your eyes go big.

“Oh, Maria’s husband!” You fully remember her introducing him to you. But now something else clicks.

He’s Joel’s brother.

“Yup.” He grins proud at his wife’s mention.

You apologize profusely for not remembering him sooner and with a kind understanding smile Tommy reassures you it’s fine.

“Been a busy first month for ya, I get it. You’re a tough cookie handlin’ it all.”

Even though his twang mirrors his brother’s, Tommy already radiates a much different energy than Joel. He’s warm in a way that reminds you of a soft summer day welcoming everyone with his vibrant energy.

You thank him earnestly. “The town’s been good to me.”

A part of you wants to add Joel has been good to you. Weeks ago, you would’ve laughed at just the idea of Joel Miller showing you an emotion other than annoyance. But now you and him seem to slowly be warming up to each other.

“Don’t go stealin’ all the good stuff, y’little shit.” Joel arrives with a gruff grumble of a voice and quickly nudges Tommy.

Yet his eyes remained glued on you.

You also seem to notice how striking Joel looks in the crisp light jean button up shirt he wears.

“Speak of the devil… was just about to ask our new farmer here if ya haven’t scared her away yet.” Tommy jokes.

Joel’s face flickers with a scowl fighting to form but he keeps himself surprisingly composed.

Guilt sinks in your gut. You know he’s hard to read and you even feel bad for thinking he’s mean. Because you’re learning fast Joel is earnest in his own way.

“Nah,” you tell Tommy, answering for yourself and Joel almost. “His sheep are actually scarier than he is.”

Tommy busts out laughing and you grin. Your eyes flicker to Joel but see he isn’t grinning. Instead Joel’s handsome aged face stares at you guarded and you can’t read the emotions shimmering in his eyes.

Shit.

You might have overstepped and upset him. So to physically stop yourself from saying anything else you take a bite out of the delicious cornbread on your plate, wave a weak goodbye to the Miller brothers, and scurry away.

Now alone under the shadow of one of the lovely cherry trees, you’re aware of how new you still are, a fresh bud still trying to foster roots in this new ground. You wonder how your gramps dealt with this every year.

Soon enough, the music starts and Mayor Lewis claps excited ready to begin the dance.

At least this will be over soon.

The couples slowly sway to the soft melody then rustling arrives at your side. Gently your eyes turn to the source and you almost collapse seeing Joel move in besides you.

His eyes though stay on the couples dancing among the blooms.

“Could’ve at least picked better music to dance to.” He mumbles bored.

Your lips press hard trying not to smile ridiculous and wide.

“Could you imagine if someone played the wrong song?” You whisper back. “Like, some heavy metal rock song suddenly started screaming out?”

Joel snorts, masks it with a few coughs, but you did it. You made him laugh.

Golden soaked triumph fills you and it feels like the first morning you woke up and found a sprout peeking up from the dark tilled soil.

He’s a complex man and you’re barely even scratching the surface of him. But it’s a tender start you want to continue kindling.

For all the commotion and production given to the festival, the dance only lasts a few moments. It’s over thankfully fast.

“Bit anticlimactic.” You mutter under your breath.

“Yeah it’s dumb.” Joel deadpans.

Your lips fight from letting out a laugh.

Everyone claps joyously at the couples concluding their dance. You wonder, even as silly as this is, if one day maybe you’ll dance with flowers in your hair. But you don’t give that thought too much attention. Just imaging yourself next spring already seems so far away.

“Headin’ home?” Joel asks, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You hum, narrowing your eyes at the gorgeous meadow.

“I’m kind of tempted to maybe see if I can steal some of the leftovers but yeah, I’m heading back.” You reply.

“Tell me which food you’re eyein’ and I’ll grab it. No one will tell me no.” He offers and you laugh.

“Tempting as that is, I’m just gonna go home.” You wish Joel a warm good night.

He continues walking alongside you.

Your heart jumps until you realize he lives in the same direction. The chatter from the festival still lingers in the air even while you walk further away from the meadow.

“How do you deal with that every year?” You ask with a sigh.

“Alcohol.” Joel dully answers and you snicker at his reply.

“Maybe one day you’ll be dancin’ out there.” Joel comments like he’s trying to continue the small talk. But the suggestion makes you skin itch for a reason you can’t pinpoint.

You only reply with a simple ‘maybe’ and a shrug.

“I’d pay a hundred bucks to see you dance though.” You joke, but also quickly imagine Joel a picture of softness with a flower behind his ear resting beautifully among his silver curls and it makes your knees weak.

Joel however rolls his eyes.

“Next year we’ll just sneak in and take over the music. See what happens.” You offer.

“Now that sounds like a plan.” Joel agrees gruffly.

It sounds like a promise.

You bid him good night until his eyebrows crinkle so classily grumpy Joel.

“Whadya doin’? Ain’t lettin’ ya walk home alone, sprout. Now come on.”

He continues walking as if nothing while your mind tries to recover being tilted on its axis for a bit.

Joel is walking you home.

And he called you sprout.

You want to cradle this new nickname so tenderly in your hands.

Joel quietly asks about your plans for the upcoming season, almost as if he’s trying to keep you focused.

To settle your flutter heart, you manage to ramble about the new incoming seeds you’ve heard about. You talk about your hopes of going to the beach more, not just to fish but to simply enjoy the ocean.

Among all that discussion, in a blink you’re back at your farm.

Instead of Joel rushing home, he lingers.

He checks your porch almost like he’s making sure the thing still stands.

“Hope one day to see that dang greenhouse up ‘n runnin.” He points to the broken greenhouse and you can’t help but sigh at the sight. You hope so too.

Then Joel moves to stand next to you on the land.

It feels different seeing him here.

Just a few weeks ago he was shouting every profanity known to man trying to fix your ancient water heater. He also glared at you the entire time.

Now he stands next to you suggesting on what to grow for the upcoming season.

“You could plant the tomatoes over on this side, give ‘em more shade to grow.”

Joel already reminds you of a back alley cat, one that hisses and refuses to let others near until he decides when to warm up to others. And, like a fresh new sprout, you want to soak up this warmth of him up.

“Also… Don’t forget to plant flowers.” He adds with a soft grumble.

“I won’t.” You grin impressed he remembered.

When you bid him goodnight and thank him again, you almost want to promise you’ll stop by with coffee tomorrow morning.

However that feels too much, like you might make the wrong move and spook him. But you do want to know if he makes it home okay. You can’t even bring yourself to ask him for his phone number.

So you watch Joel leave until your thoughts move fast and you blurt them out.

“Wait how will I know you made it back?”

Joel suddenly stops then glances back to you.

A very soft twinkle comes over his face and he gives you a crooked grin. It colors him with such a boyish expression. This new face of Joel feels sacred, special, and it steals your breath away.

“Hang outside for a bit. I’ll give ya sign, don’t worry.” He nods then melts into the darkness.

You stay frozen on the spot, not wanting to miss whatever it is. You wait, hoping he makes it back safe. Then out from the darkness, far down the path, you see it.

A light from Joel’s house blazes alive.

Then it flickers on and off, like someone flipping the switch a few times. The movement of it against the darkness even feels like a wave of some sorts.

You wish so badly to wave back.

Reassured that he’s home, you head back feeling as light as a feather.

Stepping onto your porch, something catches your eye.

Resting on the main railing barrier are a batch of tulips that were not there when you left.

Your heart jumps into your throat. You didn’t even see Joel place them there.

Delicately placed, the tulips so brilliantly colored sit warm and bright for you - the most beautiful end to your spring.

Though, in your heart, these blooms feel like something closer to a beginning.