#outlaw!joel miller

[baronessvonglitter]

Blue Hour

outlaw!Joel Miller x runaway hitchhiker!f!Reader

Word count: 2.8K

Summary: hitchhiking in the cruel Texas desert, you're picked up by a handsome stranger

WARNINGS: outlaw!Joel (not mentioned exactly what criminal activity he's involved in, but he does bear scars and looks as if he's been in a fight recently), also he's on the run, brief mentions of parental abuse and alcoholism, strangers to lovers, loss of virginity, unprotected p in v sex (birth control is briefly discussed), soft!Joel (he's respectful of boundaries)

Author's Note: I had initially wanted to do a trucker story, but thought that the criminal element fit better here. I would absolutely love to see a trucker!Joel fic if it doesn't already exist. Please do tag me if it does! Also this is lightly edited but the love is there..

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

You're both running from something; that's how you find each other.

On a lonely stretch of highway in West Texas, Joel Miller picks you up on the side of the road, his mindset one of penance. If he does a good thing by saving someone maybe he can save himself. You're just glad to get away, as far away as possible from a mom who drank all the time, berated you, beat you, and was only at her most peaceful when she was passed out cold.

It's a danger in and of itself to get into Joel's truck, and a danger to come into his motel room, but to you, any other place is safer than where you grew up. The little roadside motel is brightly lit, welcoming, the sign neon against the cerulean summer evening sky.

By the fluorescent glow of the cheap TV screen with its staticky channels you exchange your stories. Joel doesn't tell you much apart from the fact that he's headed to New Mexico, and the scar on his nose, the way he's healing from a black eye you surmise is probably from a couple weeks ago. He carries a gun and his wallet is thick with cash. You can tell he's bad news but you don't care. You're just happy to have a roof over your head for the night and a plan of some sort of future taking shape in your mind.

With only one bed he offers to take the floor, but you insist it's fine to share. He's been a gentleman so far, despite the obvious flirtatious vibes you've been giving. It's impossible to keep to yourself as you both settle down to sleep. Your new life started the day you walked away from your home. You're a different person in this bed, laying on a cheap mattress with a handsome stranger. And, though you've never gone much farther than kissing, the newness of desire tugs at you from deep within.

"Joel.." his back is turned to you and he barely catches you calling for him. You press your hands to his back, which immediately gets his attention. He looks at you with slight confusion, as if he'd forgotten you were there, and when he sees the meaningful look in your eyes he knows what it is you want, and you don't stop him when he pulls you close.

Joel's fingers tangle in your hair, his other hand roaming over your waist and hip, caressing and claiming you with a hungry and desperate fervor. You moan softly, your tongues dancing against each other, and you melt under the sweet shared pleasure. Your fingers slip beneath his shirt, feeling the broad smooth expanse of his back.

His senses are afire as your fingers trace along his bare skin, and his own hands continue to wander, skimming along your sides, gently caressing the curve of your hip. He pulls back just enough to take a breath, his forehead coming to rest against yours, breathing in short, shallow gasps.

"I like the way you taste," you tell him, your confession soft and simple in the twilight glow of the room, your words caressing his lips. Joel's eyes darken with desire as he gazes at you in the semi-darkness.

"Yeah? And how do I taste, darlin'?" There's an edge of a growl to his words, his fingers stroking softly along your cheek, a fusion of longing and restraint etched into his expression.

"Like cinnamon, and whiskey," you whisper. "You taste like pleasure.."

He pulls you closer, nudging his nose against yours as a low, possessive growl rumbles in his chest. "You taste like sunshine and sweetness, sugar.." He dips his head back down to capture your lips in another searing kiss, his tongue slipping between your lips, swallowing your moans. Every sound, every gasp you make, fuels the fire burning within him, igniting an intoxicating blend of desire and hunger.

One arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand slides down your back, trailing fire along your skin as he moves lower, gently cupping your ass and pulling you against the heated length of his body. You gasp at the intimate touch. The way he presses you to his hardness awakens and excites something in you. "Joel!" you gasp.

The sound of his name, breathed out so sweetly from your lips, sends a shiver down his spine. "That's it. darlin'.. say my name.."

You whimper at the sweet friction as he continues to deliberately press you to his hardened arousal, kneading your cheeks. "Joel.." you say obediently, whispered in innocent pleasure.

He groans softly. "That's my good girl.." He presses you against him once more, allowing you to feel the full extent of his arousal, the heat and weight of it grinding against your core. Desire floods your veins and you slowly undulate your hips, finding little comfort in merely rubbing against him. "Fuck, you drive me crazy, darlin'," his voice is husky and raw with need.

"I want you.. please don't make me wait.." you tell him.

"Yeah? You want me.. like this? Is this how you want me to fuck you?" Joel's voice drips with primal need as he grinds against you, feeling the heat and wetness, his own arousal painfully hard at this point.

You nod, your breath catching in your throat. "I can't think about anything else right now. Just you.. with me."

"Darlin', I can't hold back anymore.." he warns, but he takes time to ask about birth control, and you assure him you are covered.

You reach up to kiss him, before breaking apart a moment to take off your top and help him remove his own. The feel of his warm flesh against yours is heavenly. He bears scars and old wounds upon his flesh, evidence of a life lived in danger. But right now you only think about how warm he feels, how strong he is. "I just want to feel your skin against mine for a little bit.."

Joel's touch is almost reverent as his large, calloused hands roam your bare skin, learning the contours of your soft supple flesh, cupping each breast. "My sweet girl.." he whispers in awe.

Likewise, you trace every little scar, thinking on how each of those fights, those deadly interactions, brought him one step closer to you. "I need you," he whispers, feeling more alive, brand new under the heat of your palms on his chest. His fingers find the waistband of your panties and his eyes quickly flick to yours, seeking permission. "Is this all right?" You nod eagerly, "Lift up your hips for me," comes his quiet command, and he gently tugs at the elastic, slowly pulling your panties down your thighs. He sees you laid bare before him, your inner thighs moist with desire, the curls on your mound dewy with want. "God damn.. you're so beautiful.. I wanna taste you.." he groans, pressing a heated kiss against the sensitive skin just beneath your hipbone.

You sigh at his kiss, his beard pleasantly scratching your skin. "Yes.. please.."

Joel's tongue flicks out to taste the heated flesh between your thighs, groaning softly at the flavor of you on his tongue before he begins to lick through your slick, puffy folds. He smiles as you gasp, your eyes wide and mouth parted in an O. "Joel!" you moan, panting as his tongue explores you. When he said he wanted to taste you, you assumed he meant more kissing. You hadn't expected this, hadn't known this was possible. Your fingers fist in his hair as he continues. He groans against you, the sound vibrating deliciously against your cunt. "Taste so sweet,.. like heaven.. my sweet girl.." he whispers between long, languid licks, his arms wrapping around your trembling thighs, holding you open for him as he feasts. His tongue flicks and dances over your clit, swirling and teasing, wanting to learn every inch of you, what makes you scream and what makes you whimper, getting drunk on your taste like a thirsty man lost in the desert.

Your hips arch up to meet each lick, each worshiping swipe as his pace becomes more insistent, following the sound of your moans and sighs, feeling the shivering in your body, his tongue flicking and circling in a hungry rhythm, determined to bring you to the brink.

Your thighs start to quake but he expertly keeps them spread open, feasting on you. "God! Joel, I'm coming!" Pleasure uncoils from the very center of you, radiating outward, controlling every other sense and thought. His hands grip your shaking thighs, lapping up all your sweet nectar. "That's it, darlin', let go for me.. I got you.." he whispers. He gently eases you through your orgasm, tongue slowing, savoring every drop he can. "God damn, sweetheart.. you taste so damn good.. you doing okay?"

"Yes," you pant, a light sheen of sweat forming on your skin. "Oh, Joel," you moan, bringing him to you for a kiss and tasting your flavor on his lips and tongue. He rises, crawling up your body until his weight is draped over you, his arms caging you in as you kiss, sharing your taste with you. He gazes down at you, the way you trust him implicitly ignites a mix of feelings: a raging, possessive need, a deep sense of responsibility, and a swelling of unbridled affection and adoration. He lifts a hand to gently caress your cheek, his thumb tracing soft patterns against your skin. You can see his heart and soul bared to you in that simple touch. Your skin is flushed, hair mussed, eyes bright. You've never looked more beautiful.

Joel shifts his weight, pressing closer against you, the pressure of his hard length against your hip undeniable as your eyes meet. You take him gently into your hands, grasping and feeling him. He groans at the softness of your hands wrapping around his arousal, eyes glazing over with pleasure. "God.. I want you.. need to feel you around me, sweetheart.."

You sense now that you have the power. Slowly you run your hands over his rigid cock, swiping your thumb across the tip, wiping away a bead of moisture. "Is it going to fit?" you ask, feeling the heft of it, both length and girth.

A guttural groan rumbles from his chest and his head bows down to bury his face against your neck. "It'll fit, sugar, I promise. Just take your time."

Your heart skips a beat. This is the ultimate thing that can bring you together, and will forever change what you mean to each other. "I'm ready for you.."

Joel's hands gently grip your thighs, guiding you to move and open further as he positions himself between your legs, the head of his cock resting against your entrance. His heart pounds as he looks down at you. "You sure, darlin'? I promise I'll go slow."

"I'm sure. I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

"Okay, just tell me if you need me to stop. I don't wanna hurt you." He presses to you a little more, eager to fill you but waiting on your word.

"Kiss me," you whisper.

He pours all his love and need into the kiss, swallowing your gasp as he presses forward, his thick cockhead just barely breaching you, his groan joining with yours at the feel of your tight heat around him. You break the kiss, resting your hands on his shoulders as he enters you, a little at a time. His fingers dig into your thighs, his expression a cross between pleasure and concern as he pauses, giving you a chance to adjust to him. "How is that, sweetheart? Am I hurtin' you at all?"

"Wait." You press your hands to his chest. "Wait a little bit," you pant, forcing yourself to relax around him in order to accommodate him.

Joel nods. "Take your time, sweetheart. I ain't goin' anywhere." He stills himself, using every inch of willpower in his possession, "Just breathe, darlin', you're doin' so good," he coos. "You feel so damn good... touch yourself, darlin'," he growls.

Your breath falters as you acquiesce, fingers flitting lightly over your distended clit, adding pressure, circling the cluster of nerve endings, making yourself wetter, letting him slide in a little bit more. Joel fights to maintain his control. "Fuck, you feel so good, so tight."

Despite his willingness to take it slow, your hormones are asking for something else. "Take what's yours," you whisper. "I want you to."

A deep groan rips loose from his chest at your words, the sound thick with need and desire, his control fraying at the thought of claiming you with a hard and deep thrust. "Take a deep breath, darlin'." He takes your hand, lacing your fingers together, his grip reassuring. "I love you, my sweet girl, my sunshine.." He pulls out slightly, his body tensing as he prepares, and his eyes lock with yours as he thrusts forward, hard and deep. You cry out in surprise and pain, which is little more than a brief shock before you become acclimated, leaving you with a lingering dull throb.

"Hey, shh, it's okay, it's okay darlin', breathe for me. You did so good, you took me all, such a good girl," comes Joel's praise as he cups your cheek with one hand and stroking your belly, easing the pressure there from his length taking up room so deep inside you. When you inadvertently squeeze around him, stretching to fit him, it sends a shock of pleasure spiraling through him. "Damn.. if you keep squeezin' me like that I ain't gonna last long, darlin'," he warns. He takes a deep breath, slowly pulling out, savoring the drag of it, before slowly pushing back in, starting a gentle, deliberate rhythm. "You're perfect, sugar."

Soon the friction begins to cancel out the dull ache, more so with each thrust. "Feels good," you sigh.

Joel's eyes flutter closed, his rhythm remaining slow and gentle, the feel of you surrounding him, the feel of being buried inside your warmth as the most perfect sort of pleasure, his breath coming in short pants. "Sweetheart.. oh sweetheart.. oh god.. damn you feel so right, like you were made for me."

"You were right," you smile, "you do fit."

"Yeah darlin', I'm right where I'm meant to be, buried so deep inside my sweet girl." He keeps moving against you, spine tingling with delight as he feels you moving with him, naturally, your bodies in sync with one another. "Yes, just like that.. move with me, sweetheart."

Your brows furrow in pleasure, heart swelling at his praise. "Joel.. give me more.."

He groans, his eyes darkening as his pace quickens, hips rolling forward with a little more determination, the sounds of your flesh slapping together filling the air. "Like this, sugar?"

"Yes! Fuck!" you groan, lightning filling your veins as you move quicker together. Your words shoot straight to his soul, heat pooling and coiling in his gut. "God, Joel, I'm so close!" you whimper. His breath comes in sharp pants as he drives you closer to the edge, his rhythm growing rougher, less controlled. "Me too, sugar. I'm right there with you.. wanna feel you come around me, wanna hear you say my name. Say it, darlin', come for me and say my name."

"God!!" Eyes scrunched tight you let go, coming hard as your cunt clenches around him, fluttering hard and fast. "Oh!! Joel!!" you scream. Joel's pushed over the edge, giving a few jerky thrusts before you feel him twitching and pulsing inside you, filling you with his cum, his thighs shaking from the force of his pleasure. "Oh, fuuuucckk," he groans, burying his face in the crook of your neck, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths, heart pounding wildly.

You feel his heart racing next to yours, almost as if beating with the same cadence, both of you trembling, spent, satisfied. He raises himself on his arms to look down at you. "You're so damn gorgeous, you know that? Especially when you're all breathless and flushed, still quakin' from comin' so hard."

Despite the breathtaking passion you'd just shared, you still blush. "Came hard thanks to you," you give him a soft kiss.

Joel grins, a cocky, proud smirk tugging at his lips, feeling a warm glow in his chest. He gently brushes back a strand of your hair. "How you feelin', sugar?"

"A little sore," you admit. "But I think, considering what we're working with, a little pressure was to be expected," you smirk, still feeling him inside you.

He chuckles, the sound of it making your heart thrum, as he slowly pulls out, knowing your still sensitive. "You took me like a goddamn champ, sweetheart."

You whimper at the loss of him, feeling his cum dribble out of you, and your eyes light up at his praise. "Really?"

"Really." He gazes down at you, his eyes a mixture of speculation and resourcefulness. "You wanna come with me to New Mexico, darlin'?"

divider by @saradika-graphics 👑

[mothandpidgeon]

The Outlaws (outlaw!Joel Miller x f!reader) Masterlist

pairing: Outlaw!Joel Miller x f!reader rating: E 18+ MDNI

summary: Wanted for murder with a bounty on your head, your only hope of escaping the Pinkerton detectives is an outlaw named Joel Miller and his sidekick Ellie. But Joel has other plans for you. series contents : old west au, train robberies, enemies to lovers, grumpy Joel, handcuffed together, forced proximity, smut, period/genre/canon typical violence, alcohol, morally grey characters, assuming Ellie’s gender, reader has backstory, only one bed, no use of y/n. [check chapter warnings…I’ll update here]

about the reader: Reader is able bodied, bisexual, and has hair. She is an outlaw in her own right– a criminal and killer and frankly slightly unhinged (affectionate). She hails from Missouri and has a tragic backstory but, as always, I try not to include physical descriptors. Her age isn’t explicitly mentioned but she is an adult woman.

Moth's Masterlist - follow @mothandpidgeon-updates an turn on notifications so stay updated with my fics!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

MORE

Playlist

Moodboard by @ezrasbirdie

[cuntdestroyer3000]

Godless

moodboard not meant to be a physical description of reader, just her vibes/clothes

western au! dark!outlaw!Joel Miller x f!prostitute!reader playlist part two here

My contribution to dead dove December hehehe. I love dead doves so I'm very happy to participate! @romana-after-dark

Summary: You work at a brothel that operates above a saloon in your town. Joel is the leader of a group of outlaws that come periodically to collect payment and wreak havoc. One visit, you catch Joel’s eye and he decides he has to have you.

word count: ~5.6k

DARK, dead dove: minors dni!! rough smut, prostitution, reader gets called a whore, sexual slavery, being bought/sold, angst, being owned and considered property, descriptions of men being violent with each other, Joel is possessive and very dominant, reader is very submissive, stockholm syndrome. dubcon, reader obeys but she doesn't have a choice. It's only gonna get darker from here mamas. Unprotected sex, STDs don’t exist in this universe, yeehaw. No use of y/n

A/N: Prepare for light old timey language. Yeehaw shit, in my heart I am a wild west man. Also I have no fucking idea what kind of money they used in the wild west so I just wrote gold coins lmao. Reader doesn't necessarily have a specific accent but she talks like an old timey western person, reader is just a girl in the world, god bless her. set in old west California LAWLESS LAND CALI WAS CRAZY BACK THEN BRUH

-

You tried to even your breathing as you hurriedly did your makeup, slapping your powder onto your face frantically. The other girls scurried around you, the collective energy was tense and you all shared a feeling of anxiety that was rising as the minutes ticked on.

The bar always went into a frenzy whenever Joel Miller and his men rode through town. You hadn’t been working here for that long but you’d already been here long enough for their visits. His men were animals, every girl dreaded it when they came to the brothel.

Joel and his men are shameless, getting drunk in the saloon and picking fights, riding through town and plundering all the folks living there, demanding "payments" in the form of money, food, jewelry, anything they could find that was worth taking. Payments that the people of your town made so that he would let them keep living there. He made it clear that we could wipe out the whole town if he wanted to, leaving you a people without anything. And that's if he left you all alive.

-

You hadn’t been living in the town that long. After your father died, you set off west with a man who you thought had loved you. Things had fallen out with him when you finally reached California, and he had left you all alone in this scary new world.

Luckily the people of the town had taken you in, but your shelter and safety came at a price. When you arrived, you had nowhere to live, no money, nothing.

The town brothel seemed like the only solution. You had a place to live, a job, a community. You made peace with having to let men defile you. Most of them were nice enough and your pimp took good care of all of you.

This world was cruel, you did what you needed to do to get by.

-

You adjusted your breasts where they sat in your low cut dress, pushed up by your corset. You fixed your hair and adjusted the garter on your stockings.

“Well at least we look nice.” A voice snapped you out of your deep thoughts.

You turned and tried to muster a smile for your friend, Anna-Leigh, who was pinning up her blonde curls.

She clocked your fear and reached out her hand to take yours. You couldn’t look at her because if you did you’d cry, and you couldn’t afford to smudge the black pigment you’d put on your eyelashes.

“I know you don’t want to, honey.” She said softly, “But we’ve gone through this before.” Her southern accent never failed to soothe you.

You nodded,

“Yeah.” You sniffled.

“They’re gonna do what they always do, we just gotta deal with it and then they leave.” She said firmly.

“And if they really give us trouble, Mr. Polk will put a stop to it right quick.” 

You nodded a little more confidently, remembering that your pimp, Mr. Polk kept a gun on his hip every hour of the day.

No longer able to delay the inevitable, you took a deep breath, and followed your friend and the other girls out of the vanity area and down to the saloon.

-

Walking down the stairs, you analyze the chaotic scene. You’ve managed to understand how to navigate it so as to not cause any trouble. Keep your head down, be a good girl, let them do what they want and then they leave. Your pimp paid you all extra whenever Joel's men came through. Sometimes he’d give you all new dresses, it does make you feel better but it does little to ease the aching between your legs that persists whenever he and his men visit.

You all disperse and walk among the crowd. Usually most girls will immediately go and talk a man up but now you all just stand around awkwardly, letting men approach you and take you upstairs, or just take you right down here.

You’re taken upstairs a few times by a few different men. And later on, you’re sitting in a very drunk man’s lap down in the saloon with your breasts out, smoking a cigarette. He's playing a poker game and slowly losing everything.

Your eyes scan your surroundings: men brawling, naked women bent over, their legs splayed open. The usual.

Through the clamor around you, you can feel his eyes on you.

Joel Miller.

You'd seen him before, and his cold gaze had made your skin crawl.

You knew he was dangerous and you’d heard the stories about him. You’d never talked to him, only seen him when he came by. After making his rounds through the town, he’d just sit at the bar and drink as his men ran wild. To your knowledge, he didn’t even have sex with any of the girls.

You tried to avoid his gaze but you could feel his eyes on you through the thick haze of smoke. It wasn't fair that he was so handsome, weathered from the desert sun. His soft brown hair was laced with gray, just like his short scruffy beard. He looked like could've been a man that was kind, if it wasn't for the dead stare in his eyes. Meeting his eyes you could see how cold blooded he was, how merciless.

After a while, Joel instructed his men to gather everything up. The barkeep and your pimp seemed like they couldn’t wait to get rid of them, their regulars bloodied and slumped over, the bar a mess.

You were pulling the top of your dress back over your breasts when you spotted Joel speaking to your pimp, who was looking distressed. Your stomach churned. That couldn’t be good.

You were on your way up the stairs when you heard your name being called, panic flooded your system.

You turned, frozen. Your heart was pounding as the other girls ran by you.

Anna-Leigh tugged your arm, "C'mon!"

You turned and the only thing you could do was shake your head.

"What's wrong?" She asked, confused.

Your pimp, growing impatient, walked up the stairs and grabbed your elbow, dragging you down.

"I know y'don't want to." He grumbled, "But I'm not bein' given much of'a choice."

Your feet dragged on the wood as you struggled to catch your footing. Did Joel suddenly decide he wanted to fuck you? Mr. Polk yanked you over to him.

Joel's broad form towered over you as you approached. You felt small under his gaze, you'd never been this close to him before. You took in his scent of desert dirt and sweat. His broad shoulders, hulking biceps and soft stomach stretched his stained white button down. The fringe on his cowhide jacket swayed as he took his hat off his head and ran a hand through his graying curls.

You stood looking up at him, eyes wide. He looked down at you without a hint of warmth and grabbed your arm roughly, spinning you around.

You gasped at his touch and anticipated to be bent over and have your skirt hiked up. Instead he just looked at you and turned you back to face him. He made an approving grunt and nodded his head.

"Yeah." His voice was deep and gruff, "This one."

He reached into his bag on the bar and pulled out a sack that he let fall open, gold coins falling out all over the counter.

You started to feel sick.

"Give you this for her." He said casually.

A spike of fear bolted through you.

"W-what?"

Your pimp sighed and turned to you,

"Go get y'things honey."

"What?" That felt like all you could say, "N-no."

You turned to see Anna-Leigh and the other girls staring at you. Your friend looked just as terrified as you felt. Tears freed themselves from your eyes.

"God damnit girl I said go get your fucking things." Mr. Polk yelled and gave you a shake. You looked at Joel who simply nodded his head up, as if telling you to go upstairs.

You sniffled and ran up the stairs, your sobs breaking through as you graced the landing and echoing as you flung yourself into your room.

-

You hiccuped as you threw your few belongings into a suitcase, everything blurred as you cried.

You were only able to get a few items packed before you broke down and sobbed uncontrollably.

You suddenly felt the arms of your friend wrapping around you as other girls gathered around you, all stroking and hugging you.

You blinked back tears and tried to speak but you couldn’t. They just held you as you all cried. There wasn’t really anything they could say to make things better anyway.

You gasped and shuddered, trying to catch your breath. Anna-Leigh took your face in her hands,

“It’s okay, baby, breathe.” She said, tears falling down her face as well. You shook your head and kept crying.

Your pimp appeared in the doorway, looking mournful as he held his hat in his hands.

“How dare you!” Anna-Leigh screamed at him from where she held you.

“I’m sorry.” He said, looking down, “It’s either her or they take all a’you. Destroy the bar, hell maybe even the whole town.”

You cried harder, realizing that there was truly no way out of this. If you didn’t go with Joel, you’d be damning your sisters. You let out a final anguished cry before you got up shakily and continued to pack your things. You went down to the bar which was quiet, the men all watching with bated breath.

Mr. Polk escorted you down and you walked over to Joel again, whose smirk made you nauseous. You looked down at the floor as one of his men took your bag from you.

“Alright sweetheart.” Your pimp murmured, “You be good for Mr. Miller now.”

You nodded as tears ran down your face silently.

“Move out.” Joel addressed his men.

It hit you again that you were really leaving and you started sobbing again.

“No please!” You begged your pimp, “Don’t let him take me please!”

Joel reached out and grabbed your arm,

“I ain’t got time for this girl!” He sneered and ripped you away.

“No…” you cried as he dragged you along.

Anna-Leigh ran up and hugged you one last time. Joel let her, but made an irritated noise and squeezed you painfully when she took too long.

She pulled away and grabbed your face in her hands.

“You can do this.” She said, her voice breaking, “You’re gonna be strong.”

You hiccuped and shook your head,

“Be strong ok?” She nodded at you as Joel finally wrenched you away.

“That’s enough!” He barked, “I’ve already been mighty patient with you folks. Stop fuckin’ testing me!”

Everyone stared at him, silent and full of fear.

You could only cry harder as he dragged you outside. He picked you up and set you on his horse, untying its reigns from the post. 

“Hey!” You heard a voice call out and turned on the horse to see one of your drunken regulars, stumbling towards you,

“Thas’ my favorite whore!” He slurred, “My favorite fuckin’ whore, y’can’t-“ he hiccuped and stumbled. The people of the town shuffled out of their houses to watch the action.

Joel smiled at the man coldly,

“That’s your favorite whore, huh?” He asked, standing over him. He rolled him over with the toe of his boot.

“M-my whore.” The man warbled.

Joel didn’t really know why but white hot rage shot through him. He inhaled sharply and stomped on the man’s face, hard. He heard you gasp from the back of his horse which only ignited him further.

“She’s my fuckin’ whore now!” He yelled and spat in his face.

Fueled by rage and power, he turned to his right hand with an idea.

“Get me the rope, John.”

The man writhed on the ground, moaning and clutching his face. Joel approached the back of his horse with the rope, making you shuffle back in fear.

“Relax darlin’ this ain’t for you.” He breathed and tied the end of it to the saddle. Then, he turned to the man and bent down, tying the rope around his hands above his head.

You watched in shock and heard people around you, whispering.

“Alright!” Joel said after he was done. He got up onto the horse in front of you.

“Hold on baby.” He said softly and you reluctantly wrapped your arms around his middle.

Adrenaline coursed through him at the thought of the freedom of the mountains, of riding out of this stupid town with a pretty girl on his horse and a worthless drunk at his mercy. He turned to see John, who was giving him a knowing smile, the one he always gave him before they rode.

“Let’s ride.” Joel said, his voice gravelly like the desert sand. Before you could blink, they urged their horses onward and took off at high speed. You couldn’t help but let out a little scream as you startled and grabbed at him.

Your noise of shock was substituted by the agonized screams of the man being pulled by Joel’s horse. Begging and crying just like you had earlier.

You turned and watched the town get smaller, Anna-Leigh stood at the front of the crowd and gave you a pitiful wave. You looked down and saw the bloody body of the man.

You squeezed your eyes shut and turned back around, whimpering as you buried your face in Joel’s broad back.

Your tears stained his jacket as you rode away from the place that you had made your home. Towards a terrifying, shackled future.

-

As you journeyed on, you sat behind Joel on his horse, your hands clinging to his weathered leather jacket. His silence only made you more uneasy.

You feared for what the future held, gone was the stability of the brothel, the protection of your pimp. You were in a lawless land with a man who answered to no one. You’d heard the stories about Joel Miller, about the things he’d done.

You didn’t know how he’d treat a woman, if he’d be rough or gentle. Or if he’d throw you to his men. That was what you were the most afraid of.

You traveled for hours, eventually setting up camp as the sun began to set. As the air grew colder, Joel passed you a thick blanket to wrap around yourself. You sat in front of the fire with him as his men kept themselves occupied.

You brooded as you stared into the fire. You were still kind of in shock. This man had taken you away from everything, your life was gone. You didn't know if you were ever going to see your friends again.

You didn't realize, when you'd started spreading your legs for men, that this could happen. That you could be bought and sold like cattle.

You were scared for life with this godless outlaw. You didn't even know where you'd be living. Would you just sleep out in the desert like this? Would you spend the rest of your days being pounded by vicious men into the hard, dry earth?

"Want ‘sum meat?" Joel's gruff voice broke you from your thoughts. You turned to him apprehensively. He held out a piece of dried meat, offering it to you.

"Go on."

You slowly took it from him and took a bite like a scared wild animal. It was pretty good.

"Thank you." You said softly.

Joel looked satisfied with your response, you were both quiet for a while longer until you finally couldn't help yourself.

“Is this uh…” You spoke and he looked over to you, the fire casting sharp shadows across his handsome features.

“Is this how you normally live?” You finally asked, hoping you weren’t being disrespectful.

Joel shook his head after a moment.

“We’re travelin’ now.” He said, “but we got a place, nice and comfortable for a lady.”

You smiled a little bit at that last part.

“Thank you sir.” You wished you didn’t sound so scared, “I was just curious.”

“S’alright.” He grumbled out and began focusing on whittling a piece of wood.

-

The journey was hard but you tried your best to keep up. Joel never raised his voice at you, he didn’t really talk to you all that much in general. He hadn’t even touched you yet either. It seemed he was focused on getting everyone home.

His strength and capability drew you to him, but he still scared you.

After days of traveling, you finally reached where he and his men lived; a small grouping of cabins a mile or so away from a small village. It was just as well, since the sun was beginning to set over the horizon.

You still weren't sure what to think. Joel has been gentlemanly towards you so far. He still scared you though. His smoldering silence made you more uneasy than any unsavory man you'd ever encountered. He kept all his cards concealed, barely spoke, only when he needed to. His calm felt like that which preceded a storm, he commanded respect.

You didn't know what to expect from him.

You entered one of the larger cabins with Joel. It was nice, modest, and smelled of carpentry and tobacco. He set down his lantern on one of the wooden tables and dropped your things down with a slight groan.

His men unloaded everything, then they all nodded at each other and all left, closing the door and leaving you with Joel.

He moved purposefully, picking up wood from a corner and moving to the fireplace.

"Need to get a fire goin'." You heard his deep voice in the near darkness. The shadows thrown on his broad back made him seem even larger than he already was.

You didn't move, unsure of what to do, not wanting to make him mad.

After a fire was crackling he moved towards you silently, the wood creaking under his heavy footsteps. You resisted the urge to shrink away from him.

He was so close to you now, right in front of you.

"You were a real good girl on that trip." He said, his gravelly voice soft, the sound immediately went to your cunt and you were shocked at how aroused you suddenly became. 

You weren't sure what to say, you kept your eyes down, your hands behind your back.

He held your jaw and tilted your face up to look at him.

"You need to keep bein' good." He said, his tone a warning, "You don't cause any fuckin' trouble, you do what I say."

You felt breathless, the feeling of his hand on your face setting you on fire.

"Yes sir." You said quickly.

He smiled softly, "Good girl." He said gently and, to your shock, leaned forward and kissed your forehead. You gasped a little.

"Remember," His voice was still soft and velvety, "I own you now." He gripped the back of your neck tightly, "That means you're mine and I decide what to do with you."

You swallowed the dry lump in your throat. You wanted to cry. You never liked being a prostitute, but at least at the brothel you were free, not a man's property. At least, you thought you'd been.

But Joel had paid for you fair and square. You were his now.

You whimpered a little at the thought and he grabbed your hair, yanking your head back,

"Answer me when I talk to you girl." He spat.

"Yes sir, I'm sorry!" you choked out.

Seeming satisfied, he let go and patted your cheek, then moved away. It felt like you could finally breathe.

"I'm gonna get us some supper ," He said, "You stay here, make yourself at home."

With that he was gone. You stood in the single room cabin, your heart rate finally slowing down.

You looked around, the place was big enough, it felt cozy. There were some old chairs by the fire with a small handcrafted table in front of them.

The other side of the room had a big soft looking bed, then there was an area to the right with pots, pans and other things for cooking. Besides a small room off to the side with a basin of water and a cracked mirror, that was it.

It wasn't much, but it was nice. It felt normal. There were blankets everywhere. Cotton, knitted, animal hide, what have you.

It all made you feel a little better, but not by that much.

Joel came back in and gathered fixings for dinner. He had you both sit in front of the fire outside along with his other men. You all sat on logs gathered round. His men were boisterous and shameless as usual, but they only did so much as leer at you.

The food was pretty good, and you appreciated the hot meal.

When you shivered a little bit, Joel slipped off his fringe jacket and put it around your shoulders. You looked up at him and couldn't help but smile a little. How sweet, how...considerate.

He looked down at you, and smiled back. The wrinkles around his brown eyes became more pronounced, making his normally dead piercing gaze softer, kinder. A warmth bloomed in your chest.

-

After dinner was done, you both returned to his cabin. He cleaned up as you got comfortable, changing into a long, off the shoulder white cotton dress that held your breasts nicely.

You settled into his bed. It smelled like wood, tobacco, whiskey, him. The blankets and pillows were soft and you tucked your legs up, opening your diary. Beginning a new entry, you didn't even know where to start. Your entries were definitely going to get more interesting.

You wrote for a while before you heard a man enter the cabin. Looking up, you saw Joel and began to stand up but he put up a hand, stopping you.

You watched him walk over to the fire, his knees creaking a little as he bent down and threw a fresh log in. 

He sighed and slumped back in one of the chairs, kicking off his boots, unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his shirt.

You observed him for a while, his beautiful hooked nose illuminated by the firelight, his hair looked soft, his tough expression relaxed a bit.

You finally lost interest and returned to your diary, desperately trying to explain to it how you came to be in this situation.

Joel took swigs from his flask and worked on his whittling as you wrote. He liked the peacefulness, he liked that there was a pretty girl in his bed. You had come with him so easily, been so obedient. Sure, you'd been upset initially, but he hadn’t expected you not to be.

You'd been good, so far. You followed his orders and you were thankful for all the things that he gave you.

Compliant little thing.

He suddenly got an idea.

-

You had already covered two pages in writing when he called your name.

You sat up quickly and set your diary on his bed, slid off and walked across the wooden floor until you were in front of him.

“Yes sir?” You asked, your heart pounding slightly.

“Take off your dress.” He said quietly.

The command caught you off guard and you froze for a moment.

“I-what?”

“Take off. Your dress.” He repeated flatly, “Wanna take a look at what’s mine.”

His words both made your stomach hurt and your pussy ache. It felt like your feet and hands were going numb.

You took him in, his hard stare, the yearning and darkness in his eyes. You realized you had been fooled earlier tonight by his chivalry.

You swallowed and nodded, you were used to this business. You took a deep breath and untied the top of your dress, letting the bodice fall loosely around your chest. You gathered the fabric and pulled it over your head. You weren't wearing any undergarments so as your white dress billowed to the ground, you were left completely naked for him.

You heard him make a noise of approval and he nodded, smiling.

"Knew you were a good girl."

He eyed you up and down. His gaze made goosebumps erupt on your skin, causing your nipples to harden as he examined you. He stayed in his chair, his legs spread. You could see his bulge straining against his jeans.

You could feel your heartbeat pounding in your cunt...maybe Joel Miller would be gentle with you?

He finally stood up. Looming over you, he ran his large, rough hands over your arms, then your stomach and finally, up to cup and squeeze your breasts.

You couldn't help but let out a soft moan, Joel chuckled softly,

"I know baby," He rasped, "You've been waitin’ so long, been so patient."

You nodded quickly, your eyes wide as you looked up at him. Your complete submissiveness to him was due to his power, but you couldn't help but feel a little excited for this strong, terrifying man to take you.

"Go get on the bed for me."

"Yes sir." You said softly and he let out an almost inaudible groan. You walked over to the bed and laid on your back, immediately spreading your legs.

Joel laughed a little and shook his head as though in disbelief,

"Damn, I picked the right fuckin’ girl didn't I?"

-

He sat on the bed beside you as you lay, your pussy still on display for him, your arms on either side of your head.

Completely his, ready to be taken by him. It kind of shocked you that you had surrendered and accepted this role so quickly. But then again, you didn't have much of a choice, this was the easy way.

"Damn." He sighed as he let his eyes fall over you. He took his time touching you, slowly playing with you. You let your eyes flutter shut as you let him explore you, taking in his newest possession.

He touched you everywhere, except where you needed him most. You squirmed and whimpered, moving your hips to get his fingers anywhere near your wet cunt.

Joel quickly landed a harsh spank on your pussy and you cried out.

"Cut that shit out." He growled, "You're gonn' take what I give you and be a grateful little whore."

You nodded quickly.

"Say it."

"I'm-I'm gonna be a grateful little whore."

"Thas' right."

His thick fingers dragged through your dripping cunt and you let out a moan. He drew closer to you, inhaling the dizzying scent of your arousal and spreading your slickness up to your clit.

"Joel..." You whined and rolled your hips against his fingers.

"Good girl," He said huskily, "Jus like that."

He moved his fingers faster and you moaned and arched your back. No man had ever taken his time with you in this way.

You felt the pleasure wash over you and you let your moans echo around the cabin freely. You'd learned it wasn't a bad thing to be loud, your old pimp had always told you it was good advertising.

After taking in your reaction to that, Joel shifted his focus and curiously buried two thick fingers into your cunt. You moaned and gasped at the way he stretched you, it felt fucking amazing.

"Joel!" You cried out and rocked your hips in time with his hand. Following his movements and somehow doing exactly what he wanted.

He liked how responsive you were, how obedient.

He pulled his fingers out of you without warning and you whined at the sudden emptiness.

Joel got on his knees on the bed, towering over you. He pulled his shirt off and undid his jeans, pulling them down just enough to free his cock.

You audibly gasped when you took in the sight of it and he laughed a little.

"What? Not expectin’ me to be this big?"

"I-no-sir I didn't-I mean-" You stuttered.

"S'alright sweetheart." He murmured, "You wanna touch me?"

You stared at his thick manhood. You had no idea how fucking big it was, you reached your hand out and wrapped it around him, your fingers just meeting each other around his girth.

Oh fuck.

You whined and pumped his length, spitting on it and letting it spread over him.

His cock was beautiful, powerful and imposing, resting rock hard and heavy between his strong thighs. His balls hung heavy, his dark hair running wild up to his round stomach.

You sighed, contentedly.

Joel smirked, his large hand resting on the side of your head, cradling you as your hand worked him.

You looked up at him submissively, your eyelashes fluttering. Joel moaned at the way you pleaded for him without even saying anything. You were like a siren. He'd known you were the one the minute he saw you down in that saloon.

He suddenly pushed you back, roughly. Making you yelp out in surprise as your head hit the soft pillows. He looked at you hungrily and grabbed your hips, flipping you over so you landed on your stomach, bouncing up off the bed a little.

He yanked your hips up so you were on your knees, grunting and breathing heavily. You moaned and arched your back, spreading yourself for him.

You felt the head of his cock swipe through your folds and your heart raced with anticipation. He took a sharp inhale before slamming into your cunt with a snarl.

"FUCK!" You cried out, not expecting the sudden burn or stretch. Even with how wet you were, his massive cock split you open.

You gasped and whined as Joel kept himself buried in your pussy, groaning as he rocked his hips, getting harder and more forceful.

You let yourself become undone by him and he started sliding out and slamming into you more, getting faster and more enthusiastic.

He grunted and breathed heavily through gritted teeth as he pounded into you. He threw his head back, using his grip on your hips to move you and fuck your pussy. The way you moaned and screamed for him only spurred him further, abusing your cunt.

He was in control. He bought you, he owned you, you were his whore. Forever.

"Oh fuck!" He groaned, gasping as those thoughts brought him even closer, along with the squeeze of your cunt.

You couldn't even speak, your face was pressed into the pillow as you cried and drooled. You'd lost track of how many times you'd come, just letting yourself be used by him at this point. You couldn't deny that it felt amazing.

Joel leaned over and put a paw-like hand over the back of your head, crushing your face into the bed as he leaned over. Putting his weight on you, he used that to fuck you even harder.

Your cries were muffled and you almost couldn't breathe. Joel's thrusts became sloppier and you heard his breathing turn into desperate moaning. He finally came, thick ropes of cum shooting directly into you making you gasp and moan. The men at the brothel were never allowed to cum in you. If a girl got pregnant, she either got it taken care of or she was out.

But you were Joel's now. And Joel was the one who decided what happened to you.

He fucked his cum into you more, causing it to spurt out. Then he pulled back, you took a deep breath and relaxed onto the bed, his cock still keeping you plugged up.

"That's right baby." He murmured, "Good girl."

You let out a beautiful whine, your cunt tightening around his cock as he stroked your hair away from your face.

He sighed as he knelt over your limp form, his cock still keeping his seed in you.

You didn't move, When he finally eased out of you gently, you winced and cried out at the loss.

"I know, I know." He said softly, petting your hair.

He grabbed a cloth and wiped at your cunt, getting most of the mess cleaned up. When he decided that was good, he eased your hips down and turned you over.

You wriggled into a comfortable position, tucking your hair behind your ear and smiling up at him shyly.

He smiled at you again, the same one he'd given you at dinner. His normally cold eyes looked warm and safe.

You slipped your hands up around his neck, your eyes falling down to his lips under his scruffy beard.

He ran the rough pad of his thumb over your cheekbone,

"Such a good little whore." He said softly, then he leaned down and kissed you.

His lips weren't pressed against yours for that long but it still sparked electricity through you.

He pulled away and breathed out a laugh, "Alright, let's try an' get some sleep now."

"Yes sir." You said softly.

He put out the fire and the lantern and stripped off his pants before getting under the covers with you. His strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you into him, his softening cock pressing against your ass.

He buried his nose in your hair, each hand covering your tits, keeping them warm.

You nuzzled into his hold, you couldn't remember the last time you'd been held like this. You turned around and buried your face in his hairy chest. 

You had…liked that. You really liked it. You knew how wrong this all was. You knew that to him you were just a whore, his property, but…maybe you could make peace with that? Maybe Joel Miller would be a good owner.

You hated that you were even thinking that.

His large hand rested on your back, holding you close to him as your exhausted mind finally succumbed to sleep.

-

THANK YOU FOR READING I LOVE YOU

This is my first Joel fic AND my first dead dove fic which I didn’t think I’d be able to write but I had sm fun writing this!! Thank you to @toxicanonymity and @romana-after-dark and all the girlies with their scary Joels who inspired me🖤

YEEHAW LETS RIDE🐎🐎🐎

[annasinterests]

10 characters/10 fandoms/10 tags

thank you @daydreamingmiller for the tag 🩷

diane pemberley - the outlaws

hughie campbell - the boys

percy de rolo - the legend of vox machina

nami - one piece

arthur morgan - red dead redemption 2

joel miller - the last of us

rhaenyra targaryen - house of the dragon

din djarin - the mandalorian

castiel - supernatural

tony stark - marvel cinematic universe

+ bonus! owen grady - jurassic world

npt: @tinygarbage @katiexpunk @morning-star-joy @agaritas @photo1030 @sickvictorianangel @lumoverheaven @bastardmandennis @forgetminot @nostalxgic (sorry if you've already been tagged i just love you so much!!!!)

[abharties]

Jolted awake muttering “TLOU cowboy AU”

[clynrx]

just read the most perfect fanfic of all time and i find out it's not a like 15 chapter series it's a ONE-SHOT. now i'll never know if miss sugar went to see mr miller 😔💔

[macfrog]

homesick

a cowboy like me one shot

oh, i missed these two. here's a little check-in on my favorite morally irresponsible outlaws.

pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you spend the weekend back home in austin with joel.

warnings: age gap (early 20s/late 40s), twinge of angst, piv sex in the shower (beware of slippage). you know the drill with these two. part of the cowboy like me universe, but can probably be enjoyed as a standalone.

word count: 6.3k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🧡

“This is Joel Miller. I can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to ya.”

You wait for the beep, pacing along a wall of steel cylinders. The laundromat is stifling, the machines’ drumming deafening. It’s eighty-something degrees out, and it’s only six o’clock.

“Pick up, Miller. Hello? Hello? I know you’re there. Can’t come to the –” you clear your throat, strum the twang in your vocal cords, “– Can’t come to the ph-owww-ne right n–”

The line clicks as he picks the handset up.

“Did you call just to make fun of me, kid?”

You halt, spinning on your heel. “So you were screening me?”

He scoffs. “Didn’t notice the time. I’ve been out back with Tommy.”

“Oh,” you mellow, tongue curling around your ice cream, “We don’t have to call right now, you know. I’m just doing laundry.”

“It is six there, right?”

“Yeah, but don’t let me keep you. Go hang with your brother.”

Joel sighs as he sinks back into his couch. “Keep me. He knows you were calling tonight. He’s probably outside fraternizing with the neighbor, anyway. Won’t even notice I’m gone. Laundry, huh?”

“Mhm.” You suckle on the lip of the waffle cone. “It’s a beautiful night, and I’m stuck being force-fed Mötley Crüe and watching a steel drum shred my panties.”

“Sounds like a good time to me.”

“Enough, cowboy.”

“I like Mötley Crüe,” he chuckles. “They got some hits under their belt.”

“Name five.”

“Five,” he says. “You’re asking a lot there, darlin’.”

“Of Mötley Crüe or of your memory, old man?”

Joel hums. “Should’ve seen that one coming, baby.”

You boost yourself up onto one of the dryers, swinging your legs. If there were anyone else in the laundromat, you’d care to hide your fluster – but you’re here on your own, and the man just melts you. All girlish and giggly, you feel his words swirl around your stomach like sweet honey.

“Tell me about your day,” you say, covering the flutter in your voice with another mouthful of ice cream.

“Well,” Joel says, “weather’s fine, work’s fine. Almost done with that renovation for your favorite clients.”

You gasp. “The old couple with the cats?”

He grumbles. “That’s them. They still hate me, by the way.”

“The couple, or the cats?”

“…Jury’s out.”

You snicker.

“Then, uh, I called Sarah, had some dinner, and now here I am talkin’ to you.”

“Hm. I’m your favorite part, right? I’m your favorite part of today?”

Joel pauses, breathing for a moment. Slow, quiet, but sure, he says: “You’re my favorite part of every day.”

The smile on your face cracks, crumbles into something more pained. Your heart sinks.

It’s been three months since you were last home. Technically, it’s been seven weeks since you were in Austin – but Joel was out of town for the weekend, and you spent four days cleaning your dad’s gutter and watching westerns.

It’s been three months since you were last in Joel’s arms. In his house, in his clothes, in his bed. Three months since you heard his voice not through the crackle of a thousand miles apart; since you smelled him on your skin, not on the flannels you’ve stolen from him.

Three long, tough months.

And it means nothing, anyway. All this missing each other. So you tell yourselves, and so you tell everyone else. You’re not together, you’re not committed. You’ve been seeing other people, so has Joel – even if he’s only been on two dates in the nine months since you moved away.

Spending a casual weekend together here and there is enough to get you by. It’s easier this way, right? It’s cleaner. There are no crossed wires, no strings at risk of becoming tangled.

Only – your entire relationship is woven in tangled strings. Messy, knotted, twisted around your fingers and threaded through your ribs. A summer’s worth of weaving yourselves closer and closer together, only to be pulled apart come fall.

It didn’t take long to prove that when a knot is pulled, it only binds tighter.

It only binds sorer.

“Anyway,” Joel says, “your turn. How was your day?”

You gulp, slipping down from the dryer to check on your wash. If you speak, you’ll break, and if you break, you’ll sob.

“Baby? You still there?”

“Yep,” you croak. You wipe your eyes with your sleeve and shake your head. “I – uh…Yeah, my day was fine.”

The line quietens.

“You sure? Everything okay at work?”

Your reflection blinks back at you in the window of the machine, warped and molten. She opens her mouth and replies, “All good.”

He can read you even three states apart. “Let me call you back. Hold on.”

The call disconnects before you can protest. Over your shoulder, another regular shuffles into the laundromat.

She smiles, skin supple and sun-spotted, looking but not looking you in the eye. She slides her full basket over one of the machines on the other side of the room, and tosses her clothes into the drum.

When your phone vibrates again, you pass by her and out onto the street.

Joel’s pixelated living room stretches across your screen.

“Joel,” you sniff, “Joel, it’s –”

“Can you see me?”

“No, you gotta flip your –”

“…never know why the damn thing don’t –”

“The button with the arrows. The camera button, Joel, it’s –”

His coffee table flips, and in place – straight, dark brows drawn tight in a frown. Crows feet, scar across the bridge of his nose. Peppered hair a little longer than the last time you called, beard a little thicker.

The only person in the world who can weaken your knees and splinter your chest, in one fleeting glance.

“Hi, baby girl,” he whispers, expression softening. “Look at you.”

You slump against the warm wall, sliding down. One sight of him, and your knees give. “Oh, my God, I miss you today.”

Joel laughs. His head cocks, smirk tugging at his lips. “I miss you every day.”

“Yeah, that’s – that’s what I…” you sigh, “…That’s what I meant. It’s just – some days, you feel a little further away.”

“Today one of those days?”

You nod. A car soars by, whipping hot air from the road which pours over your bare legs. “It’s just…been a day. That’s all.”

“We can talk about it, if you want. You’re hell of a lot smarter than me, darlin’, but I’ve had my share of bad days before. Never does any harm to get it off your chest.”

He smiles. It breaks your heart.

He works ten hours straight, some days. Out at the crack of dawn, home with only enough time and energy to nuke something in the microwave. Somewhere amongst that, he fits in beers with Tommy and ridiculous DIY jobs your dad elicits his help for.

And still – he sets aside an hour or two every few nights, specially for you. He collapses into his couch, decaf in his mug, and puts the world to rights with you on the other end of the phone.

The meaningless work dramas, the paper building up on your desk. The commute, for the love of God – the traffic jams you swear will one day be the death of you. The last thing Joel needs is to listen to your problems on end, and you tell him so.

“Bullshit,” he replies. He shakes his head, takes a sip of his beer. “I asked, didn’t I? Talk to me. Tell me what’s goin’ on.”

You groan. “I just…I wish I could turn my brain off. Just for a little while. No meetings, no call times. No helping my dad trim the trees in the yard when I’m home for the weekend.”

He laughs. “He rope you into that one too, huh?”

“Sure did.” You tense your fist, wince at the memory of splinters you were still plucking from your palm even weeks later.

“I got nothing to complain about,” you tell Joel, “I know that. This job is…it’s right where I want to be. Just – sometimes, I miss being back in Austin, following you around Costco and hiding from my dad. It’s like life was simpler then.”

Joel chokes. “I guarantee you,” he coughs, thumping his chest clear of beer, “life was not simpler. Not by a long shot. Goddamn.”

He swings to his feet and wanders across the room to his kitchen. Past his armchair, past the guitar mounted on the wall. Past the dining chair he always hangs his coat from. You know the anatomy of his home better than your own, it feels like.

You sure as hell miss it more than your own.

“Lemme see…” Joel squints over his phone. He leans over his kitchen counter. “What’s next weekend look like for you?”

You shrug. “My weekend off.”

“Nothing planned?”

“Nothing yet.”

He nods. “I’m meeting a supplier on Saturday afternoon, but if you can stand to be without me for a few hours, then…”

His eyebrows lift.

So do yours. “Then…?”

“I can look at flights,” Joel says, “get you booked tonight. Pick you up Friday, drop you off Sunday. Spend the whole weekend with your brain shut off, if that’s what you’re lookin’ for.”

A wave of warmth floods through your chest. Relief, maybe – or simple adoration for the man on the other end of the phone. Most likely, the way it always seems with Joel, it’s both at once.

He loves you. Enough to break every rule in the book. To go behind his best friend’s back for an entire summer. He loves you enough to let you go, watch you follow your wildest dreams, and then be the safety net at the end of each long day, each hard night.

He loves you enough to scratch everything off his calendar for a few days, just to make sure you’re okay. Just to hold you in his arms, heart beating a rhythm he knows better than his own. Just to sing you to sleep, and wake you up with burnt toast and runny eggs.

You pull the collar of your shirt over your nose and weep into the material. “I ever tell you how much I love you?”

He smiles. “Not half as much as I love you.”

“Gross.”

“I know.”

The laundromat door flings open.

Face now flushed and hair scraped back, the woman clocks you immediately and throws a pointed finger in your direction. “Are you coming to get your panties or what, little girl?”

She clicks her teeth and disappears again. The blind hanging over the door rattles with the force it slams closed.

“Guess that’s my cue,” you whisper, heaving to your feet. “Better go get my panties.”

“Why?” Joel’s making his way back outside. “Ain’t like you’re gonna need ‘em.”

You scoff. “Talk later, cowboy.”

Austin welcomes you back with a delayed flight, a screaming seatmate, and a raging headache.

The airport is busy. Loud busy. All chittering couples, hordes of kids with nauseatingly bright backpacks. You drag your suitcase through to arrivals, careful not to trip over the wheels of the stroller ahead.

When you spot his tall, dark figure weaving between bodies, the gate hushes. You move towards him by instinct, parting the crowd as you go. The magnet in your chest senses its partner drawing nearer, and nearer, and nearer.

And nearer, until he’s reaching out. He’s close enough that his hands land on your waist, and it’s the first time in three months that you’ve felt this weight – his weight, the way only he feels – all around you.

Joel pulls you in to his chest. He locks you in, resting his chin on your head.

“Hi, honey.”

You inhale his scent, breathe in the comfort of him. “Hi,” you exhale.

Tears prickle at your eyes. It feels stupid. He looks down at you, thumb swiping across your cheek, and a salty droplet spills.

“How was the flight?” he asks.

“Good.”

“You okay?”

“Perfect, now.”

“You look perfect,” Joel grins, “Look like the sun.”

And you could swat him away, could shrug him and his flirting off. The sun sure as hell doesn’t look stewed in three-hour plane, too tired to move and too clingy to unhook from her dad’s best friend’s arm.

But that’s not what he’s saying, is it?

You do look different. You feel different. You feel brand new. Golden – just like the sun.

These days, it feels like there are two versions of you. One, you’ve spent the better part of a year polishing off – electric and vibrant, eyes wide and head spinning, moving through her day like gliding on air and then collapsing in a heap come nightfall. Chaos with a clipboard and call sheet.

And the other – slower. Steadier. Surer on her feet, simpler in her ways. Dust under her heels and a Texan shine in her smile. Honeylike; moving where her body tells her to go, drinking up the world as she pleases.

There’s a moment, stood under the fluorescent lights of the terminal, where you feel the first give way to the second. Safe now, in Joel’s arms, to slip back into her old, worn boots and shutter her mind – even just for this weekend.

“Come on,” he whispers, wrapping his hand around yours. “Let’s get you home.”

And there never seemed like a better idea than that.

He keeps your things in his shower caddy.

Bottom basket, strictly yours. Shampoo and conditioner and bodywash and a loofah, all exactly where you left them last time you were here. He says it as he cranks the handle, holds his palm under the flow until it’s just right.

“The strawberry stuff…?” Joel nods to the bottle, face screwed.

You gasp. “You don’t like it?”

He shakes his head. “Like it on you. I smelled like a fruit farm for a week, baby.”

“Makes a change from wood trimmings,” you mutter, peeling the shirt from your chest.

Joel glares over his shoulder. “You wanna say that a little louder?”

“No, sir,” you whisper, and step into the cubicle.

The water pours over your head and down your spine, breathing life back into your body. You close your eyes and let it wash down your face. LA feels so distant, so lost to the steam and serenity in Joel’s ensuite.

He lingers in the doorway, watching as you turn under the shower. He smiles when you hold your hand out and flick your fingers.

“Soap, please.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, dropping it in your palm.

You slip the velvety bar over your skin. The soap lathers in thick, milky bubbles, cascading over your chest down to your hips. Your hands lift from your navel to cup your breasts, pinching your nipples between soft fingers.

Joel’s jaw ticks. He crosses his arms, shoulders tensing. “Easy, darlin’. Dancing with the devil here.”

It burns low in your stomach.

You pass him the bar back. “Maybe I want to dance,” you murmur. “Maybe he does, too.”

His eyebrows lift. “Maybe he does,” he agrees. He trades the soap for shampoo, tapping the bottle against your hip.

The heat grows under your skin. Having him watch, his close eye on you as you wash the suds from your hair and slick bodywash over your skin.

His eyes drift from your chest to your waist, looping up to your soaked eyelashes and dripping bottom lip, diving again between your legs.

Hungry. Starved, even.

Three months of secret photos and sexy phone calls to get you both by. Three months of imagining you, fist around his cock in the dead of night, coating his stomach just with the thought of you.

And right here, right now, in his shower: the real thing. The forbidden fruit. Body hot and skin soaked, just as desperate as he is. Just as needy.

You step forward, reaching for his shoulders. Arms around his neck, dampening the collar of his shirt, you pull him closer.

“Dance with me,” you whisper against his lips, stealing a kiss.

Joel’s gaze darkens. He takes your jaw and tilts your head back. Voice like thunder rolling over you, he warns, “I told someone we’d be somewhere.”

You smile, tugging on the hem of his shirt. “We’re running late. Something’s come up.”

His arms lift and you pull the cotton over his head, tossing it to the floor. He’s the same solid sculpture as always. Strong and wide, torso scattered with hair which thickens across the span of his chest.

He rids himself of his boots and jeans, kicks his underwear off, and joins you under the water. So big that he corners you, so tall that he has to adjust the showerhead.

Pressed up against your body; warm, manly scent raining over you. He’s hard, tucked right by your hip, rutting gently as he steals kiss after kiss.

He’s addicted to it. To you. Has been ever since that first night, the first taste of poison. Has been, probably, since that first glimpse of you last summer. For all the wrong reasons and in all the wrong ways, for better or worse –

You break him open. You make him weak.

Joel groans when you wrap your hand around him. That familiar weight in your grasp. He glances down to watch your slow strokes, fighting back a filthy smile.

“Missed you,” he breathes, voice lost to the patter of the shower. He slips a hand between your legs. “Ain’t gonna last long, are you?”

“Fuck,” you hiss, grinding into his palm. You toy with his bottom lip, nipping at the edges of his smirk. “We got all weekend. Just – just fuck me.”

He hikes your leg over his hip and lines up. A blooming ache when he notches at your hole, tip teasing your entrance.

Your back curls. You wrap your arms around Joel’s neck, whimpering into his chest.

“’s alright,” he kisses your neck, “Just take it nice ‘n slow. Get her used to me again, baby.”

He pushes inside, two heavy hands on your waist. Always in control, always easing you in. He holds you delicately, moving inch by inch, watching the twist of your brow and bite of your lip before sinking in further.

He reaches up and tilts the downpour to the wall. Lifts your fragile body, split in two on his cock, and pushes you against the tile.

Your cunt aches as he slides out. She clamps around his tip. It hurts – but you don’t want to let him go.

“Stay,” you cry, nails digging into his shoulders. “Stay inside me.”

He hums and presses his lips to the hinge of your jaw. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere, baby. I’m right here.”

His hips move forward. Your cunt opens for him the deeper he moves. Like welcoming him home, remembering the way it feels to be this full. The stretch of taking him, the air stolen from your lungs. The love you can never find the beginning nor the end of.

And then he’s moving quicker, sharper, one arm wrapped around your neck to cradle your head. Hips snapping against yours, slowing to a roll when you yelp.

Whispering sweet nothings in your ear – how good you’re taking him, how tight she is. How much he’s missed this, missed her, missed you. Never wants to let you go, never wants to be anywhere except right here, feeding you his cock and watching you come undone.

“Made for me, huh?” Joel grunts. He presses his forehead to yours and slips the words across your tongue. “All mine.”

“All yours,” you echo, weeping under him. The flame catches and curls around your stomach.

The missing piece to the last nine months. The dead-end dates, the hazy hookups. Awkward good mornings, and goodbyes that never seem to come quick enough. Sneaking off home to shower the scent of it away, to replace it with something sweeter.

Him.

Because none of them are him.

They don’t make you laugh and they don’t make you come. They don’t see you, don’t hang on your every word. They don’t – they can’t break your world apart and paint it something new. They don’t know your every move, don’t understand the most fleeting glances.

You could spend forever circling every bar and every diner; what do you do for work and where did you grow up. You could chase the tail of every flannel shirt, search all over for that twinkle in his eye.

They’re not him. They’ll never be him.

Joel coaxes you where he needs you. He fucks you until you’re quivering in his arms, head rolling across his shoulder. His thrusts begin to stall, breathing turns to panting, teeth sink into any part of your skin he can find.

He moans into your neck. The sound nudges you towards the edge.

“I’m close, baby,” he grits, “’m so close.”

You look up at him through tear-soaked eyes.

Three months. Since the last time he touched you, kissed you, fucked you like this. Since the last time he lost control, came deeper inside than anyone before, or anyone since.

Three months since the last time you held him in your hands, lined your lips with his, and begged him to stay in you.

Joel laughs. “Dangerous little game, darlin’.”

But he’s fading. He’s falling under, same as you are.

You want it. You need it. Need to be full of him – that ache when you walk, the warmth leaking down the inseam of your thighs. The feeling of being his, all his; ruined and wrecked in the sweetest way.

“Stay – inside,” you plead. “I want you to – want it so bad.”

“Keep begging, honey. Sound so cute when you’re desperate.”

“Please, Joel,” it’s getting harder to hold, “Just wanna feel you in me –”

“I know, I know,” he shushes.

You tense in his arms, gasping. “I’m gonna – come –”

“So,” Joel smirks, “come.”

And it snaps.

You scream into his chest. Your climax pulls you under, drowns you in a heavy wave of pleasure. Your hips lock, legs clamp around his waist as you cry out.

He plants a hand flat against the tile to steady himself. He holds you still as his own orgasm rolls through, pumping your swollen cunt with each rush of warm release.

You collapse against his body, bubbling and mumbling something incoherent.

He hears you, though.

He shuts the water off and rocks you back and forth. His cock slips from between your legs. “Shh, shh,” lips to your temple, “’s my girl. Such a good girl, baby. So good for me.”

You hum in response and pull yourself upright. You trace the shape of his beard, soaking wet and soft under your touch, following the droplets of water to his chin.

He kisses the tips of your fingers. “I love you,” he says. Chants it like a prayer, leaning closer and closer until his lips are against yours. “Love you more ‘n anything.”

You giggle. “You’re tickling me.”

Joel nuzzles his nose into your neck. He wriggles his fingers under your ribcage. “Can’t get enough of you,” his tongue swipes across your hot skin, “Swear to God, baby, you’re killing me.”

“Joel,” your head falls back with a clap of laughter, “Joel, stop – oh, my God, you have to stop, please – Joel!”

He hoists you onto his hips and turns. Hands still exploring, still pinching and squeezing everywhere they shouldn’t be, he carries you out to his bedroom and drops you onto the mattress.

“Here,” he chuckles, wrapping a towel around your body. He knots it over your chest and rubs your waist, before flopping down onto the bed with a sigh.

You roll over on top of him and fix the dripping hair from his forehead. “Missed you,” you whisper, trailing kisses along his collarbone.

He smiles. His heart flutters beneath yours. “Missed you more,” he says.

His semen drips between your legs. He’s softening against the inside of your thigh. The bed is soaked, sheets that’ll need changed before you sleep tonight. You’re tired, spent, pussy throbbing from the loss of him – and it’s all so perfect.

Being here, with him. Seeing him, feeling him on your body. In your body, for crying out loud. Holding him, kissing him, loving him up close.

It’s fucking perfect.

“What are we running late for?” you ask.

Joel’s eyes flutter open. He cocks his head, frowning.

“You said we had somewhere to be,” you clarify.

“Oh,” he winces, “Uh, your dad’s. He’s havin’ us for dinner.”

“Oh,” you echo. “When is he expecting –?”

He glances at the clock. “Half hour ago.”

“Nice.” You push yourself up, slipping from his grasp. “Well, this is about to be awkward.”

Joel folds his arms behind his head. He tracks your flurried movements: lugging your bag across the floor, tearing through it for an outfit that doesn’t scream, Your best friend just fucked me senseless in his shower.

When you straighten and lift your arms, eyes wide, his lips turn.

“You said you wanted to dance, baby. I was just following orders.”

The sun filters through the leaves, breathing back and forth with the sway of the trees.

You’re horizontal in a deckchair, feet in Joel’s lap, blanket around your shoulders. Full on burgers and baseball talk; if it weren’t for your dad’s riveting conversation about his new lawnmower, you’d probably be asleep.

“Ride-on,” he tells Joel, nodding. It makes gardening a real thrill, apparently. He flicks a hand over the span of the yard. “Whole thing done in less than twenty minutes. Hank says he’s half a mind to make an investment himself.”

Joel purses his lips. He strokes your ankles soothingly. “Sounds like a good buy,” he placates.

Your dad drums on his armrests, admiring his yard some more. He mumbles something about raking the leaves, painting the fence, then – with a vigor that makes you jump, he taps your arm.

“How’s work, kiddo? Still rockin’ ‘n rollin’?”

Your eyes flash across Joel’s. The hell does that even mean?

The corner of his lip twitches. Your guess is as good as mine.

“Yep,” you lie. “Living the dream, Dad.”

Joel says nothing. He hasn’t told your dad why you came home – hasn’t even mentioned the tears outside the laundromat. Your secret is safe with him, you know that. Some puzzles are easier to figure out, the less eyes that are on them.

He hasn’t even brought it up with you yet. Granted, you’ve been home all of four hours, and a solid quarter of that time has been spent naked with him back at his place – but he’s waiting for you to make the first move.

This weekend doesn’t have to be about work. Hell, it doesn’t even have to be about you feeling homesick. It can be as simple as you hadn’t seen your dad for a few weeks, or you heard the news about the damn lawnmower and just had to pay a visit.

It’s what you’ve always loved so much about Joel. It’s what reeled you into him in the first place.

He just lets you be. No questions, no pressure, no worries. He knows you’ll figure it out – you always do. And if he knows that, then it makes you believe in it, too.

Dad sinks back into his chair with a sigh. “What’s on the cards this weekend, then?”

“Joel’s down San Antonio way tomorrow,” you yawn, “Some supplier meeting.”

“You don’t feel like a road trip?”

Your eyes roll to Joel. He’s already staring back. You cock an eyebrow, smirking into your glass.

His shoulder rolls in a shrug. “Your call, chief,” he says, tipping his drink to you.

The minute he mentioned the meeting last week, you knew you’d be tagging along. Two hours each way and an hour in between is too big a chunk of your weekend together to miss out on.

That – and you’ve missed Joel’s front-seat singing.

It doesn’t matter what you planned on doing – rolling around his bed for three days straight, driving to San Antonio and back. Hell, trimming your dad’s trees and cleaning his guttering.

As long as you’re doing it with Joel, it’s enough.

It’s what you came home for in the first place.

The drive passes quickly enough. Joel’s truck doesn’t have Bluetooth, and he only keeps three discs in his glove compartment: Don McLean’s American Pie, a Guitar Classics compilation album, and a blank disc with SARAH MILLER, SECOND GRADE scrawled in Sharpie.

He whips it from your hands when you fish it out of the compartment.

“Listen, listen to this,” Joel says, slotting it in the tray. “Found it a couple weeks ago. I listen to it when I’m drivin’ to work.”

Her squeaky, seven-year-old voice punches through the cabin. “Welcome to my presentation –” she roars into the mic, pausing when a voice picks up in the background. “Huh?” Sarah asks.

“You’re holdin’ the mic too close,” Joel murmurs, almost fourteen years younger. “Farther. Farther,” he says, and then – “Alright. Go.”

“Welcome to my presentation on Amelia E-Earhart,” she resumes, clearing her throat. “She…Oh, Daddy, we gotta restart. I forgot to tell ‘em my name.”

Joel covers his laughter with his fist, reciting it line for line. “Tommy said he’s gonna make her a copy for her birthday,” he says.

“Oh, my God. She’s gonna hate you guys, you know that, right?”

He nods. “I’m countin’ on it.”

Sarah rounds off a few facts about twentieth century air travel before Joel swaps her for the radio. He hands you the disc and you place it safely back in the glove compartment.

You curl up in the passenger seat, swinging your legs over to his lap.

He rubs your calves and glances over, smiling. “You okay over there?”

“I’m more tired than I was when I landed,” you reply, and he laughs.

You haven’t had much of a chance to catch up on sleep. The second you made it home last night, your dress was on the floor at the foot of Joel’s bed. He woke you this morning with his lips on your thighs, your underwear around your ankles.

He was midway through cooking breakfast when you floated into the kitchen to return the favor. The toast burned, the eggs shriveled to a crisp, and your knees bruised.

Fuck it, right? You’ll miss him when you’re gone. When all that’s left are the memories, and the sound of his climax through speakerphone.

An afternoon spent on the road is good recovery time, then, for all that’s waiting for you when you make it back to Joel’s tonight.

A few off-key covers of fifty number ones from the last fifty years later, you’re pulling into a barren lot headered by a beige trailer. The supplier springs out – a beefy guy with a full head of thick, white hair. He crosses the lot as Joel parks up.

Joel rounds the truck, pausing when he spots you lingering at the tailgate. He curves a hand around your neck, thumb circling over your pulse point. “You comin’?”

You twist the hem of your tee around your finger. “Maybe I’ll stay out here and wait. It’s a nice night, and you ain’t gonna be too long, right?”

He shakes his head. “Be as fast as I can. If it gets dark out, you come inside, alright?”

You shuffle into his embrace. “Promise.”

He kisses your head and steps back. “Here,” he slips the flannel from his shoulders, “If you’re sittin’ out. Got my phone if you need me.”

He disappears inside and the door falls closed. A cluster of moths twirls around the light on the trailer’s side. You hop up on the bed of the truck, crossing Joel’s shirt around your frame, and nestle against the back window.

The sun pulls down towards the horizon, sending dregs of daytime in ripples to the stars. She’s still alight just beyond the trees, still burning a hole in the sky. She winks at you from a distance.

The world looks different from Austin. Bigger, like the view from your bedroom window. There’s always more, just beyond the horizon. There has to be more, right? More than four pink walls and a chest of drawers. More than Sal’s store, more than Rita’s cross stitch.

You chased that more halfway across the country – only to realize it was in your hands the whole time.

Him and his lazy smile, sarcasm as thick as the accent he speaks it in. Rolled up sleeves and messy collar; a half-empty cup of coffee and a cracked watch face.

He’s all the more you could ever need.

You’re still perched on the tailgate, staring skyward, when Joel finishes up.

He swaggers across the lot, tan arms speckled with dry dirt, boots kicking up dust. He tosses a fistful of papers in the front seat, then drifts around to settle between your knees.

“Hi,” he whispers, tucking his nose under your jaw.

“Hi.”

He plants his hands either side of your hips and kisses your neck. “Home time, sweet girl.”

You glance over your shoulder.

This time tomorrow, you’ll be on your flight back. Row twelve, seat C. Joel’s flannel over your shoulders, slowly forgetting the scent of him, mile by mile. You’ll sleep with it tucked under your chin until it no longer smells like oak or pine, or the mint bodywash he uses.

You’ll miss it the way you’ll miss him. Holding onto every last moment. Deep morning voice, warm, safe embrace. The rumble of a laugh in his chest, the glimmer or mischief in his eye. The touches he saves just for you; the words he whispers when the lights turn out.

You wrap your arms around his neck.

“Can we go watch the sunset somewhere?”

Joel glances off behind you. His eyes flit back to yours, sunlight catching their ochre and setting him ablaze.

“Get in,” he pulls you down, “I know just the spot.”

It’s almost dusk by the time you reach the outlook.

A twisty dirt road which opens up between some trees, halfway out of the city. Joel reverses the truck and parks in the clearing. The two of you slide onto the tailgate, sharing a bag of fruit gums he had stored alongside Sarah’s CD.

The stars turn one by one, dotted across deep indigo. The last of the day’s blush still lingers where the city meets the sky. Tucked between trees and twilight, it feels as though you’re the only two in the world.

Joel holds the bag out, and you pinch a couple pieces of candy. “How you feelin’?” he asks, looking out to the skyline.

“Okay, I guess,” you mutter. “This has been a nice reset. I wish I could take you back with me.”

Joel laughs. “I don’t.”

“No?” you suckle on the sweet fruit, “I think you’d fit right in.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” He shakes his head, pinching your chin. “Naw, LA is yours. It’s something you did, all by yourself. I am so proud of you, honey, do you know that? I mean, I miss you like hell, I really do…”

He glances back down, rustling the bag in his hands. He’s hiding, you know him well enough. Staring at his lap instead of in your eye. When he looks back up, there’s a glimmer along his waterline.

“…But the way I feel any time you call, and I know…I know you’re out there doin’ something you actually give a shit about. You ain’t stuck here, too big for your own bedroom, too comfortable for anywhere else.”

He slips a hand over your knee and squeezes.

It’s infuriating, how right he always is. You’re working your fucking ass off, and for good reason. Austin was always too small for the world inside your head. Missing each other is a price you’re both willing to pay, for the luxury of not missing out on every dream you’ve ever had.

But –

“What if it keeps getting harder?” you sniff, “What if I need you more?”

Joel clicks his teeth. “’s always gonna get harder. That’s life, darlin’. But the hard times won’t last forever. And when it feels real tough, and you feel like you can’t do it no more, you call me. You jump on the next flight. You switch your brain off, and you let me take care of you for a little while.”

You shake your head. Tears break loose, rolling down your cheeks. “I can’t ask that of you, Joel, you got your own shit to worry about –”

“Baby.” He sighs. “I’m old. I’ve done everything I think I oughta do. You know, the days I know you’re gonna be callin’ at eight o’clock – it’s all I can think about. I’m at work checking my watch every five minutes.”

You giggle, turning into the crook of his arm.

“It’s true,” Joel snickers, “I’m like a goddamn teenager. That’s what you do to me.”

He catches you and pulls you against his chest.

“What I’m saying is – there ain’t nothing that matters more to me in the world than you. My own shit to worry about? You mean – you?”

“Shut up,” you scoff, spitting tears into his shirt.

“You call,” he says, resolute, “and I’ll be there.”

“I’m calling,” you whisper. “I’m always calling.”

“Then I’m always here.”

You sit back, bracing yourself on Joel’s thighs. He wipes the wet from your cheeks and fixes his shirt over your shoulders.

“You know, one day,” you tell him, “you’re gonna get a call, and it’s not just gonna be for the weekend.”

He smiles. “I know.”

“One day, I’m gonna come home forever, Joel.”

“I know,” he repeats. “And I’ll be on the front porch waitin’.”

[romana-after-dark]

Dead Dove December 2023 Masterlist

Hello everyone!

So sorry it took forever to get this out, but it took me 5ever to read through these fics bc I was expresso depresso and working a lot LMFAOOOOOOO

Anyway, THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH FOR EVERYONE ENTRIES!!! I adore you so so so so much. I am SO HAPPY with how this worked out and the amount of response! I hope to hold another event this March with @for-a-longlongtime at @triplefrontier-anniversary for the TF anniversary over at my main account @romanarose, and an event in June for pride, so if those interest you, follow my main page or this one, or @romana-updates

NOTE: I was unorganized so if I forgot someone's fic, IT WAS NOT ON PURPOSE. I know right now there discourse right now the Pedro fandom specifically, about different people not liking others or small writers or big writers ETC, but I want you to know no one was left out on purpose!

Note 2: If I put your fic here but forgot to reblog LET ME KNOW! I want to make sure everyone gets a chance to shine.

Without further ado, the fics and art!

ALL OF THESE ARE DARK SO SOME DEGREE FROM CNC, DUB CON, TO VIOLENT NON CON! HEAD WARNINGS!

The Last of Us

The Burglary by @aurorawritestoescape and @milla-frenchy: Two men break into your house and take more than just your valuables.

Fight Club by @anama-cara : Post outbreak set in the Boston QZ. You decide to go against Joel in an underground QZ fight club for some extra coin. Joel doesn't take kindly to the competition and decides to punish you in his own special way.

Deja Vu by @milla-frenchy : After a bad experience with a former boyfriend, you meet Joel who makes you trust him fully in the bedroom

Silent Night by @kewwrites : Despite the way he always acted around you, you find it hard to say no to Sarah when she invites you home to her dad's house for the holidays. Surely nothing would happen while she's with you.

Training Day by @koshkamartell : Set in AU, no outbreak. You get more than you bargained for after trying to make Joel jealous.

Code Broken by @auteurdelabre : You only wanted to pull a silly prank on your neighbor, Joel. Who could have seen it ending up like this?

The Art of Breaking by @corazondebeskar-reads : Your meeting is happenstance, but everything that follows? Well, that’s all Joel. He just knows you’re going to be his perfect little toy. He just has to show you how.

Cry Harder by @romana-after-dark : While keeping you captive, Joel's sex drive is insatiable, and the sex seemed to be never ending. You tried to warm him you needed to use the bathroom... he didn't listen.

Nightmare Before Christmas by @katiexpunk : As an escort, you’ve found yourself in some pretty fucked up situations before. Years of experience have taught you to navigate such situations with a combination of tact and assertiveness. Most of the time the men who exude an air of sleaze shrivel back into the corner, embarrassed and limp dicked.  Most of the time.  Tonight is not one of those times.

Locket by @toxicanonymity : Dark!Reader dugs her friends hot dad Joel

Run, Rabbit by @justagalwhowrites : It was just over a year after the world ended that you were captured by Joel and Tommy Miller. They're harsh, they're cold and they're killers. But, as a nurse, you're a valuable person to have around and they're not the worst thing wandering the wasteland that was the United States. And there might be more to these men than meets the eye.

Godless by @javier-penas-wifexx420 : You work at a brothel that operates above a saloon in your town. Joel is the leader of a group of outlaws that come periodically to collect payment and wreak havoc. One visit, you catch Joel’s eye and he decides he has to have you.

Across the Spiderverse

After Dark by @runa-falls : He wants you. and he knows you need him.

Triple Frontier

Deep Seeded Issues by @djarinmuse: Summary: At an N.A (narcotics anonymous) meeting you recall a dark and embarrassing memory, not knowing the connection in the room.

My Blood Would Teach Me How to Love by @winniethewife : Santi finds you self harming, blood kink ensues.

Room's on Fire by @romana-after-dark : Cult AU, Pope, Frankie, Will and Ben are cult leaders and need a virgin to breed who will birth the savior: the Madonna. Initially honored to find redemption, the Madonna has to learn how to navigate all four men and a circle of other people at the house.

Goodnight, Princess by @melodygatesauthor : Your dad's best friend accidentally discovers that you're a sex worker. He tries to let it go, but it eats away at him until things go way too far.

The Card Counter

Bad Bet by @boredzillenial and art by @lunar-ghoulie4art : William beats you in a poker tournament, but you just can’t accept defeat, not yet…

Getting Whats Mine by @winniethewife

Lightening Face

Puppy by @darkuselesssomebody : In which the reader is a manipulative bitch - and basil snaps because of it

Mojave

Cruel Intentions by @hon3yboy : You're on a soul seeking journey, just another young, pretty, thing. All alone and stranded in the desert, ripe for the picking and ol' Jack has his eyes set on you.

Moon Kight

Death to Dignity by @juneknight : An intruder (Marc) breaks in to your apartment.

*************

I cannot thank you enough for your support and interaction for htis series!!!!! I had SUCH a good time reading all these, you are all so talented!!!

I hope to do more events soon as it's really helped me make some friends and get to know people here!!!!

Please remember to reblog these authors, and if you're tagged here, be sure to check out more! Lots of great content here!

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

open your fucking mouth

kinktober, day fourteen

a/n: this one admittedly isn't for everyone, but it's for some (sdfghjklæø you could say that about everything. copy paste and add to everything i've ever written because we all like different things)

warnings: dark!cowboy!joel miller x innocent!reader, smut, dubcon/noncon, wild west au, historical au, gun kink, blowjob, hair pulling

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023

“Suck it,” the outlaw demanded in a gruff voice, stroking his length mere inches from your wide eyes. It had been just days ago that he had forced his way into you and your daddy’s home, saying that you were to provide him a place to hide and if you didn’t comply with his every wish then he’d kill you both.

“I-I-,” you blinked up at him from your position on the floorboards, not even comprehending what it was he was asking you to do, “you want me you what?”

Sucking in an impatient breath, he rephrased, enunciating every syllable as if you were an idiot, “put my cock in your mouth,” but when the furrow didn’t disappear from your brow, his fingers then instead pulled the gun from his leather belt. Instinctively crawling back at the threat, he swiftly grabbed onto your hair before you could escape any further, the cold barrel pressing into your cheek as he then hissed, “I said suck it.” 

Heart thumping all the way in your throat, you slowly lowered your lips to the tip of his dick, “yes, that’s it…” he groaned as you timidly enveloped the bulbous head, “you sure you’ve never done this before? That dirty old sheriff has never gotten you to crack?” he slightly lowered the weapon as you nervously shook your head, eyes fluttering up at him as he filled your mouth, “well, well, aren’t I lucky…”

Suddenly, his hand found the back of your head and he roughly pulled you down, “there you go,” forcing his girth all the way down your throat and causing you to gag around him, “fuck…” 

But eventually, his firm hold did falter as he let you reel back, coughing as you wiped the lewd slobber off your lips. 

Hearing his thumb cock the gun, you found his glare, “open your fucking mouth,” and when you did, the cool barrel of the firearm swiftly slid across your tongue. Could it be loaded? That you didn’t know. But what you were aware of was the way the harsh metal made you feel, the indescribable sensation it shot down between your thighs. 

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[baronessvonglitter]

Series:

Cherry, Cherry (no-outbreak AU!Joel x f!Reader) ~ complete!

One-shots:

America's Favorite Pastime (dbf!Joel x f!Reader)

Bad Santa (sleazy mall Santa!Joel x fem!Reader)

Blue Hour (outlaw!Joel x f!Reader)

Daddy Can Fix It (handyman!Joel x fem!plus size!Reader)

Daddy Does Drilling (handyman!Joel x fem!plus size!Reader) -- based on an ask about "Daddy Can Fix It"

Halftime Show (Joel Miller, Javier Pena, Dave York, Frankie Morales, Marcus Moreno x sex worker! f!Reader)

Like a Good Girl Should (mom's sleazy bf!Joel x f!Reader)

Pretty Please (QZ!Joel x f!Reader)

Sweet Summer Peach (dbf!Joel x f!Reader)

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

[mothandpidgeon]

The Outlaws (outlaw!Joel Miller x f!reader) - Chapter 4

Moth's Masterlist - follow @mothandpidgeon-updates an turn on notifications so stay updated with my fics!

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: Outlaw!Joel Miller x f!reader

rating: E (18+ MDNI)

wc: 3.2k

summary: Wanted for murder with a bounty on your head, your only hope of escaping the Pinkerton detectives is an outlaw named Joel Miller and his sidekick Ellie. But Joel has other plans for you.

tags: old west au, enemies to lovers, grumpy Joel, handcuffed together, only one bed, Tommy and Maria, morally grey characters, reader has backstory, masturbation, hand job, spitting, the Confederacy?, moth never uses y/n

authors note: I'm very happy to be coming back to these two after a long break. I have the rest of this fic outlined so maybe there will be more soon? Big big thanks for @moonlitbirdie and @schnarfer for betaing and letting me yap about this way more than is necessary. And thank you to YOU for reading. If you're enjoying it, I'd love to hear from you because I know this isn't super popular but it's my favorite.

Joel barely sleeps that night. 

The two of you manage not to cuddle up in the small bed but the chain between you means you move in tandem. Every so often, you pull Joel’s wrist towards you, inviting his fingers to brush your plush thighs. When he pulls back and your arm is yanked in his direction, you roll over with a sleepy moan and his mind is sent reeling. 

You’re doing it purposely, he’s sure of it, trying to get a rise out of him even as you sleep. Well, you’ve succeeded, he supposes. The sun begins to illuminate the room in the early hours of the morning and he’s painfully hard. 

He hasn’t been with a woman since Tess. With Ellie in tow, there’s no opportunity to visit the brothels in Jackson. He knows he wouldn’t even if he were on his own. A man like him doesn’t deserve such luxuries as pleasure. 

He punches his pillow for the hundredth time then tugs on his hair until the roots sting. Sleep eludes him as he spends half the night with one eye open, the other half badgered by dreams— your eyes, the weight of you against him, that little strip tease you gave him. Joel palms at the stiff bulge over the wooly fabric of his union suit. He resents you for driving him to it. The combination of the insistent need and his frustration has his mind racing with lewd fantasies, all the ways he’d ruin you. On your knees putting that mouth to good use.  He wants you to fight, to claw at him and pound your fists against his chest. Wants you to call him a rotten bastard as he spears into you with his cock.

You’re still snoring beside him but he glances in your direction to make sure you’re still deep asleep. The sight that greets him has him throbbing. The thin light of dawn touches your skin, highlighting the crests of your curves. Arranged as you are, the neckline of your chemise gapes away from your chest revealing your breast and pebbled nipple. His breath catches, hand reflexively squeezing at his length. 

He doesn’t dare to breathe again until he’s freed himself from his underclothes and spit into his fist. His lower belly tightens as he works at his cock with careful strokes. It's torturously slow but if he moves faster, he might rattle the chain and wake you. The teasing pulls are enough, though. He doesn’t need much more than that with the desperation he’s endured all night. 

He fists his other hand in the sheets, willing it not to cup your breast. It’s so tantalizingly close he can practically feel the warmth coming off of your skin. Instead, he closes his eyes and imagines the feel of it— the supple give of your flesh, the bud of your nipple. 

The pace of his strokes increases as he sinks deeper into the fantasy. Raking your delicate skin with his teeth, sucking on your neck. Leaving marks. Giving you no mercy like the brute he is.  

Just as he’s beginning to twitch, thighs trembling, his wrist is snapped away. He snarls at the loss of pressure, the slap of his leaking cock against his belly as it springs from his grasp. His eyes snap open and you’re there, the chain in your grip, holding him at bay.

He stares at you in shock, his face flushing with shame and fear. It’s bad enough to be caught, quite literally, with his dick in his hand, but this is a decidedly vulnerable position. There’s no telling what you’ll do to get your freedom. Frozen, Joel waits for you to make a move, cursing himself for letting his desire get the best of him.

You study him with an inscrutable expression. Amusement ticks at the corner of your lips but your pupils are blown wide and your chest moves with shallow breaths. You keep the chain pulled tight but the fingers of your other hand close around his cock. It jumps as he hisses at your touch. You squeeze and give a stroke so long and slow, it forces all the air from Joel’s lungs.The sight of the tip of your tongue darting over your bottom lip nearly breaks him and then you release a thick froth of spit. It rolls down his length, warm and slick, pooling at your fist, an obscene vision.

He tells himself he’s powerless, trapped by the chain and pinned down by your stare, but he doesn’t want you to stop. It’s too good to fight. He melts under your touch, his eyes falling shut as you work at him. 

You’re silent the entire time, the room quiet save for his sharp breaths and the sound of flesh against slick flesh. His helpless hand clenches into a fist as you coil him into madness, the bite of the cuff around his wrist an exquisite pain. 

It builds quickly to an explosion of need and bliss as violent as a gunshot. His hips jump and toes curl and you keep milking him until he’s completely spent. 

Regaining his breath, Joel opens his eyes to find he’s coated your hand with his spend. The sight, a salacious mark on you, makes his softening length twinge. You lean forward, a smug smile on your lips. 

“You still gonna turn me over to the sheriff?” you taunt.

Your tongue runs over the length of your index finger, swiping up the pearlescent release. Joel fights to keep a groan contained.

“You gonna let me hang?”

You put your middle finger between your lips and hollow your cheeks as you suck. The wet squelch of your swallow makes him dizzy. Intrigued by your unabashed filth, he fights an urge to kiss you, to taste himself in your mouth and claim even more of you but the haze begins to lift. 

He remembers himself, realizes where he is and why he’s here in bed with you, that he’s let you get the upper hand. Suddenly, you feel too close. The room is too small, the smell of lavender choking him. He pulls his wrist back into his chest and sits up, turning away. You scoff quietly as he fixes the buttons on his underclothes.

You’re all contradictions. Sharp tongue, soft curves. Quick witted, patiently waiting for your chance to bolt. Infuriating, intoxicating. You’re not afraid of him, either. Most people are. Even grown men shake in their boots around him. It throws Joel kilter. 

He glances back in your direction, to see you wiping the remnants of him onto the bed sheet. Guilt and disgust tangle in his chest. He’s denied himself for so long, only to lose his senses over a pretty girl. One that’s all too happy to make him squirm, to use his desire against him. 

He has to get out of this room before the walls close in on him.

The first floor of The Boot smells like bacon and coffee. In the parlor, the passengers of the stage coach finish their meal, nothing but biscuit crumbs left on their plates. Tommy carries a copper kettle to the table Ellie’s claimed as she wipes sleep from her eyes.

“I’m so hungry I could eat a whole stack of flapjacks,” you say, seating yourself beside her on the bench. “How ‘bout you?” 

Joel ignores you, looking everywhere but your direction.

“I’m always hungry,” Ellie tells you, already clutching her knife and fork in her fists.

“No flapjacks but we got eggs,” Tommy says. 

“How about that,” you say. “I got woken up by an old rooster.”

Joel grinds his molars. He can feel you radiating with glee across the table. 

”That right?” Tommy asks. He’s got a confused half-smile on his face. “I didn’t hear him.”

When the food is served, you take each bite of food into your mouth slowly, wrapping your lips around your fork suggestively and moaning at the taste. All the while, you keep your eyes on Joel. It’s an absolutely silly little performance and yet it makes the back of his neck hot. His mind conjures up the way you licked your fingers clean of him and he’s practically throbbing again. 

He stands up while he still can.  

“Keep your eye on her,” he instructs Ellie and shuffles off across the room to where Tommy wipes down the stage party’s abandoned table. 

“So, what? You’re a bounty hunter now?” Tommy asks. He puts an enamel mug in front of his brother and pours him a fresh cup of coffee.

“Course not,” Joel says, watching the dark liquid. Coffee always gets him back to rights.

“Then what’re you doing with her?” Tommy nods towards you. 

Joel can’t help but follow his gaze and finds that you’re looking right at him. Your eyes strike him, one brow arched, and it feels like you’ve caught him all over again. He pulls his eyes away as quickly as he can. 

“Making ten thousand dollars,” Joel says. He’s not sure why it sounds like he’s lying but it does.“Place is shaping up nice,” he changes the subject. He looks around the room, trying to make the ratty armchair and rusty spittoon feel as captivating as your face.

“Yeah. Think it is. The stairs could use a little work and the roof was leaking something awful when the rain came through. But we’re getting on,” Tommy explains. Pride beams from his face. 

Joel never blamed his brother for leaving the life but that didn’t mean he thought it would end well. He looked after Tommy most of his life in one way or another– after their father died, giving him a job on the ranch. He’d even tried to talk him out of joining up and going off to war. Tommy was hardworking and strong and genuine. One thing he wasn’t– independent. 

That’s why he’d gone along with Joel when he turned to crime. It had started out of desperation. Joel needed money and he needed it fast. But then he’d lost everything– his home, his livelihood, Sarah. It didn’t feel like there was much point in doing anything other than stealing. He didn’t give a damn about the money, would rather set a match to it before he let those train men have a cent.

They’d been good at robbing trains and stagecoaches. The two of them had stashed away enough that Joel could’ve bought two ranches by now but he didn’t see the point in settling down now that he was alone.

Joel figured it was just a matter of time before Tommy came back to him but he’d made a nice little life for himself. He’d never say that out loud, give Tommy a big head, but, begrudgingly he’s happy for him.

“Listen, I ain’t just here for your hospitality. I’ve got something I’m working on,” Joel says, shifting his weight awkwardly. 

Tommy’s smile fades. 

“C’mon. Don’t ask me to do that,” he says. 

Joel sighs. 

“I’ve told you. I don’t want to do anymore robbing and stealing.”

“Look I ain’t asking you to do anything but listen,” he says. 

Tommy shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

“It’s Cartwright,” Joel tells him. The name makes his chest ache, his mouth coated with bitterness at the words. He’s forced to envision the face the man that he hates. The only other time he feels as much disgust is when he’s looking in a mirror. 

His brother’s lips part and he exhales slowly, the meaning of Joel’s words hitting him heavily. Joel’s wasn’t the only life rocked by David Cartwright. “You sure?”

Joel nods. Tommy drags a hand over his mouth and Joel can see that his mind is racing.

“Alright,” he finally says in a hushed tone. “Not now. Maria’ll be doing laundry tomorrow. She’ll be out back all day. We’ll talk then.”

It’s too difficult to thank Tommy with the lump that’s formed in his throat so he gives a curt nod. He tries to erase Cartwright’s image from his mind but all he sees is Sarah and it cut even deeper.

Ellie scrapes the remnants of Joel’s breakfast onto her own plate.

She and Joel make an odd pair. For all of Joel’s stoicism, Ellie’s a firebrand, full of energy and enthusiasm. Considering the way he grumbles at just about every word that comes out of your mouth, why he chooses to keep this kid around is a mystery.

He’s not entirely obscure, though. He’s just a man when it comes down to it. You crack a smile at the memory of him crumbling beneath your touch.

You’ve done worse for lesser rewards. Life’s been about survival for you, doing what you needed to to get by. Men, oftentimes, were the easiest way to get those things.

You’d awoken to the sound of Joel’s jagged breaths, the soft clinking of the iron chain. You knew he was thinking about you as he fisted his cock. You’d seen that hungry look in his eye as you undressed for him. 

This was your chance to grab him by the balls and demand your freedom but waking up after being surrounded by him, the musky scent and his big arms cradling you all night, your curiosity got the best of you. He’d become a man rendered wild. Neck taught, teeth bared, nostrils flaring. Completely unaware of anything but his own pleasure. You needed to know what it would look like when he fell apart. 

What you hadn’t expected was how it would change him. How it smoothed the lines in his forehead when he finished. And you had no idea that the choked sound he made would wash you with heat. You didn’t think you’d be pressing your thighs together. That hadn’t happened before. 

“So what did you do to get that bounty? I won’t tell him,” Ellie says. 

You tear your thoughts away from that morning. It’s not helping your cause getting all hot and bothered for your captor. 

“Welp, my brother stole a hundred dollars from me. So I killed him,” you tell her. 

“That’s bullshit,” she says. 

You smile. She’s a smart kid and she’s got a mouth on her. Reminds you a bit of yourself back in the day. Except, of course, you were busy batting your eyes at boys. You got into your fair share of trouble but that was amateur compared to what Ellie’s accomplished. 

She’s a kindred spirit so you’d like to tell her. Problem is, it hurts too much. And you don't think you can adequately describe just how green Nell’s eyes were. And if she doesn’t know that, then how could the rest of it make any sense? 

“Listen,” you offer, “how’s about I tell you if you’ll tell me something?”

She nods eagerly. 

You look at Joel, deep in conversation with his brother. He’s well out of earshot and preoccupied. You lean forward on the table, eyes sliding to Ellie. 

“Who’s Sarah?” you ask. 

You’ve been wondering about her. She must be something special if she haunts Joel’s dreams and that might give you some clue to what makes him tick. 

Ellie’s face changes. Her eyes dart over to him and then away. The past three days she’s filled every moment with chatter and suddenly she’s tongue tied. 

“Joel doesn’t like to talk about her,” she says.  

You don’t say anything, just give her silence to fill with an answer. Her lips twist, brow knit in thought. You’ve got ideas about who this Sarah might be. A lover, a wife. You’re dying to know if you’re on the mark. Ellie swallows and you think she’s just about ready to tell you.

“I could use your help in the kitchen,” you hear Maria say. You’re in such focused suspense it’s as if she’s appeared as if out of thin air. 

You almost swear aloud but you plaster a big smile on your face while you think about throttling Maria for snatching this delicate moment away.

“Why certainly,” you say. You stand from your seat. As much as you want to unlock the mysteries of Joel Miller, getting out of this parlor and into Maria’s good graces is probably an easier route to escape. 

“I’m watching her,” Ellie announces. 

Maria sighs at Ellie. “Then you can come too. ‘Bout time you lend a hand here.”

The only kitchen work Maria entrusts to you is doing the washing up. When you said you knew how to cook, that wasn’t entirely true. Nell taught you how to cook one or two dishes but you’d never been practiced in the kitchen. Dishes, though, you’ve had plenty of experience with.

Ellie sits on a table, legs wide as she peels potatoes with her knife, sighing periodically so that everyone knows she’s bored. Maria ignores this and hums to herself as she chops carrots.

She’s wearing a simple brooch at her collar, a golden hoop embossed with flowers. It reminds you of another brooch, the emerald one you stole out of Mrs. Coxcombe’s jewelry box. You try to recall Nell’s face when you presented it to her. She’d laughed and said “You’re bold as brass,” and the words danced in her pretty accent. That’s when you realized the stone really didn’t shimmer the same as her eyes. 

It’s hard to remember her the way she was before that last time, when she looked at you with horror and disgust. That’s all you see anymore. You pull yourself from the thought before it stings. 

“Now, Miss Maria, I’m mighty curious how a genteel lady such as yourself ended up married to a member of an outlaw gang,” you say, dunking one of the breakfast plates into the hot water. 

Ellie guffaws when you refer to Maria as ‘genteel.’ Maybe you’re laying it on a little thick. 

“Now I can understand,” you continue. “He’s a good looker. But you strike me as sensible enough not to get swept off your feet by a pretty face.” 

Maria smiles softly.

“He’s a good man,” she says, pushing the onions aside and starting on a big, orange yam. “He’s loyal and brave. And he makes me laugh. He’s just been a little misled.” 

Ellie scoffs angrily.

“Joel never made him do anything,” she says. “I would know.” 

Maria sighs. “Joel’s his older brother. Tommy looks up to him.” 

“Did Joel make him join up with the rebels?” Ellie snipes. 

Your eyebrows raise. With his affable smile, it’s hard to imagine Tommy as a soldier let alone in a Confederate uniform.

“Don’t that make the two of you even more peculiar,” you say. 

Maria schools her expression and wipes her hands on her linen apron.

“Tommy’s made mistakes in his time,” she says evenly. “When you get older, you begin to have regrets.” 

You have a feeling these two have clashed over this before— Ellie with the sweet arrogance of youth, Maria understanding all the shades of gray the world presents. Their little squabble doesn’t really interest you. You keep them sniping at each other as you take a fork out of the wash basin’s murky water. The two of them are so busy with their argument, neither notice you drop it to the floor and tuck it under your skirts.

”We’ve all made mistakes,” you say. “I’ve made plenty myself. But we all deserve a second chance, don’t we?”

It seems neither of them can argue with that. Ellie tilts her head to the side, allowing her agreement. Maria nods along sagely. 

You’ve gone through a hundred second chances but right now, you just need one more.

-

Chapter 5

Thanks for reading! My asks are always open!

[cuntdestroyer3000]

The hand that feeds

moodboard just for vibes, not a physical description of reader, dividers by @cg1rl

Godless pt 2: dark!outlaw!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: It's your first morning at Joel's camp. You try to adapt to your new life and struggle with who to trust. However, you can't help but enjoy the way Joel provides for you, or the way he fucks you. Dual POVs, part one here, playlist

Word count: 8.4k

Warnings: dark, dead dove, dubcon, noncon (reader doesn't have any other choice), stockholm syndrome, reader is captive and considered to be Joel's property, unprotected piv sex, voyeurism, light somnophlia. HELLA SMUT, smut all around. dom/sub dynamics, praise/degradation kink, sir kink, no physical description of reader, No use of y/n.

A/N: I'm FINALLY DONE. I fr thought I'd never finish but I'm glad to finally get this posted. Thanks for being patient and pls use tags if u reblog <3

As dawn light filtered through the thin curtains on the windows, Joel stirred. Rising with the sun did, as always. There was a lot that needed to be done and he found that laying in bed for too long led to unwanted rumination. The dark thoughts he fought constantly began threatening his mind the minute he awoke.

This morning however, he let himself linger. It had been a very long time since he'd woken up feeling the warmth of a woman in his bed. You were cuddled into him, your chest rising and falling rhythmically. He took in your peaceful expression, eventually letting his eyes fall to your bare breasts.

He pulled back to better see you, running a thumb over one of your nipples, watching it harden.

He cupped a breast and squeezed it gently. You shifted a little and he massaged you, his eyes falling over you hungrily. His hand moved, following the curve of your waist up and down. He played with you for a while; he stroked your side, ran his rough fingertips over your soft stomach, and snaked his hand around to squeeze your ass. He let his fingers drift down to your pussy and smirked when he felt how wet you were. He wondered what you'd dreamt about, if it had been about him. He played with your clit a little, making you moan softly in your sleep.

It took everything in his power not to lose control and ravage you right this moment. He'd really been keeping himself in check since he'd acquired you but the mere sight of you drove him crazy.

He had felt the same way when he'd seen you at the saloon, he'd tried to ignore it but he had already started talking himself into finding a way to take you back with him.

He figured you were used to being fucked often, but he was still holding back. You were just such an exciting new toy, there felt like endless possibilities for what he could do to you. But he didn't want to break you in all at once. He was a calculated man, always careful with how he handled you. But there was a yearning he constantly kept at bay. It had taken everything in him not to rip your clothes off the minute he saw you.

He savored you for as long as he could, before finally tearing himself away. You were hard to resist but there were things that needed his attention urgently.

He sat up in bed, rubbed a hand down his face and stretched, trying to ease the aching in his joints.

He pulled up his jeans but left them undone. Donning nothing else but his boots and jacket, he headed outside with his rifle.

The morning air was misty, a thick fog hung over the trees like a blanket. Joel imagined it would make one feel at peace. He wouldn’t know, he’s never felt at peace, well maybe once…a long time ago.

Some men were up and milling about. Two guys were sitting at the fire pit, smoking and taking periodic swigs from their flasks.

“Mornin’ Joel.” One of them greeted him and he nodded in return.

He surveyed the grounds once more and, deciding everything was normal, headed off in a direction he hadn't been in in awhile.

-

The crisp dawn air made his cheeks cold and he shivered slightly as his nipples hardened. He trekked through the chaparral terrain, looking for game.

He liked hunting, he never felt more in control than he did when he was out in the woods with his gun. Although being between your legs might start coming close.

Joel was able to catch some rabbits but he still wasn't satisfied. Besides, the sun had just started warming his skin. He decided he wouldn't leave until he caught something worthy of bringing back. He had a new mouth to feed after all.

After some time, he finally caught something, a buck. Impressing himself- though he'd never admit that to anyone.

He slung the beast over his broad shoulders, his jacket hanging from its antlers and the dead rabbits swinging from where they were tied to his hips.

-

It was later in the morning when you finally awoke. You opened your eyes blearily as light filled the cabin. Stretching out in Joel's bed, you couldn't help but feel comfortable under all the soft blankets. The cabin looked nice in the daylight and you could make out the dust particles in the rays of sun coming in.

You weren't sure how to feel. You were still upset about being taken away, but you were glad you were living in a house with a warm bed. Then there was the way Joel had fucked you last night. You couldn't help but shiver at the memory, him pummeling your cunt in a way you'd never experienced before.

You pulled on a thin slip and wrapped a shawl around your shoulders. You hesitantly made your way out the door, the sparse grass poking your bare feet.

-

Squinting in the bright sunlight, you saw Joel emerging from the tree line with a dead animal slung over his bare shoulders. You gasped softly at the display of strength and prowess as he walked past his cabin, making eye contact with you.

The sight of him rendered you breathless. A familiar aching bloomed between your legs as you took in his pumped up muscles, his bare torso slick with sweat and blood from the animal. He looked so wild, almost as if he himself was a predator of the unforgiving wilderness. The dark look in his eyes awakened something primal within you.

You shivered despite the warm air and pulled your shawl tighter around you. Your knees felt weak and you leaned against the doorframe for support. Picking up on his obvious effect on you, Joel gave you the faintest smirk and hoisted the dead buck up over his shoulders with ease, his hungry gaze lingering on you as he passed by.

You stared after him, watching his muscular back as he moved towards a nearby shed. You watched from afar as he dropped the heavy carcass behind him, rolling out his neck and shoulders.

His men were in jubilation at his catch but Joel remained stoic, providing merely a nod to the man thumping his shoulder.

As he turned around, his eyes fixed on you hungrily and he set off purposefully in your direction. You stumbled backwards from the doorframe, not expecting this reaction, worried you had somehow done something wrong.

He appeared in the doorway shortly after, startling you even though you knew he was coming. Blood streaked down his bare chest and stomach. Your gaze traveled down to his ample package, threatening to escape from his undone jeans. His eyes were wild and he was breathing heavily.

You were simultaneously terrified and aroused by him. You backed into the wall and looked around with uncertainty as he slowly made his way over to you with heavy footsteps. He got close to you, crowding your space, causing your nose to wrinkle at the smell of the blood still on him.

"Joel..." You mumbled.

"Look at me." he said softly.

You forced your eyes up to meet his. His gaze was dark and piercing, you weren't sure what he was going to do. You wanted him but the blood and stench of dead deer was disgusting you.

He reached out for your face with a bloody hand and you flinched back instinctively. Irritation flashed across his face and you felt a bolt of fear go through you. You'd actively disobeyed him.

He looked down at himself and scoffed,

"You afraid of a little blood?" He taunted you.

You shrugged and looked at the floor.

"You don't like it when I catch food for you?" He pressed, causing your stomach to turn over.

You quickly shook your head,

"N-no sir-"

He got closer, towering over you and crowding your space. You winced as you pressed yourself against the wall, struggling to breathe due to the odor.

You tried to even your breathing as you looked up at him, his dark eyes bored into you. It frightened you how you could never gauge what he was thinking. His expression was always hard and unreadable. He hadn’t explicitly done anything to you yet to make you fear him so, but the stories you’d heard about him while living in the brothel were enough to chill you to the bone.

After a few tense seconds he scoffed,

"Guess that whorehouse was awful fancy." He moved back towards the door, but you remained frozen.

"Get on the bed." He said flatly, "I'll be back."

-

While Joel cleaned up, you situated yourself on the bed, unsure of what position to be in. Your heart pounded as you anticipated his return.

You knew what he wanted, he had probably been out in the woods for hours. He was no doubt exhausted and craved a release. It was typical of the men you spent your time around. Tired and tense, craving control.

You couldn't help but crave Joel too. You couldn't get the way he had mounted you last night out of your head. The way that dark hunger had filled his eyes, thrilling and frightening you at the same time. You also thought about how wrong and fucked up it all was. He had taken you away from your home, and was keeping you as his own personal whore. The brothel wasn't much better, but at least there you’d had your friends.

You tried to calm yourself down by thinking about how he's been caring for you, providing for you. You remembered how he had made you feel last night. You'd laid with much worse than him, men who didn't know how to truly please a woman.

Joel did.

You're lost in your thoughts when you notice him standing in the doorway, his torso glistening from washing himself off. You look down coyly with your hands in your lap.

He slowly made his way over, his bulge at your eye level, his still unzipped jeans accentuating his rock hard cock. A wave of arousal rolled through you, your nipples hardening and pussy growing wet in anticipation of what he was going to do to you.

You slowly looked up to him, his stare intense and his soft brown hair unkempt. He held you gently by your chin with a rough hand as you gazed up at him submissively. With his other hand, he tugged on the strap of your dress.

"Take this off." His voice was low and gravelly, making your head spin.

You weren't sure why, but the command sent a thrill through you. To be fair, it wasn't like you had a choice anyway.

"Yes sir." You said quietly, trying to push down how eager you were to obey him. In truth, your core lit up with excitement as you lifted your dress over your head.

His hand cupped your cheek as you sat, completely bare for him, the illusion of sweetness made you melt and without thinking you leaned your head forward against his soft stomach.

Joel chuckled softly at the gesture, running a large hand over your head, holding you against him. He was surprised at how easy it all was, how easily you obeyed him. You'd seemed to have fallen into your role of a submissive whore quickly, and it was hard for him to tell if you were just playing the part or if you really wanted him. Your cunt felt good squeezing him either way though.

He quickly slid a hand into his pants, freeing his aching cock. You had your eyes closed so you didn't even realize what was happening until it bumped against your cheek.

Your eyes fluttered open and you stared up at him, knowing what he wanted. He stared down at you with anticipation, his eyes blown out with lust. His hand tightened around your hair, pulling you closer to him.

You couldn't help the fear that rose within you. Sure men had used your mouth before at the brothel, but Joel's cock was much bigger than any of theirs. You were worried about being able to take it all.

Joel clocked your hesitation and inhaled sharply, yanking your hair harder.

"The fuck are you waiting for?" He sneered.

His harshness shocked you, especially compared to the way he'd held you last night.

"I-" you started before you were interrupted by Joel shoving his cock into your open mouth, making you gag.

You choked on his thick length as he ruthlessly fucked your face.

You tried your best to breathe through your nose as you choked and drooled on his cock. You stared up at him through teary eyes. His muscles flexed as he thrust into your mouth, his beefy chest heaving. 

His brow furrowed as he moaned, gasping and throwing his head back. You couldn't help but notice how beautiful he looked like this, both in control and a slave to his desires.

Your admiration of him was cut short as you gagged especially hard. The feeling sent a bolt through your pussy and you moaned around him.

"Ohhh yeah baby." Joel laughed as he watched you drool around him, spit dripping down onto your tits, "You like chokin' on this cock don't you."

Your moan turned into a gag as he grazed the back of your throat again. You'd become accustomed to having men use your mouth, you'd liked to think you developed some skill in the area. But Joel was not like the men in your town. He was longer, thicker, rougher. He held your head in place as he fucked your mouth, not seeming to care when you gagged especially loud.

You felt fear rise within you whenever your stomach turned over and it felt as though bile would rise in your throat. Whenever you would gag especially hard, Joel would ease you off of him, but only a little bit so that you could breathe before fucking into you again.

Unhinged and fueled with adrenaline from his hunt, he fucked you until he came. He was so pent up, all he could focus on was his impending release. Even when you started to make desperate noises and fought to pull your head off of him.

His grip on your hair only tightened as he forced you down, finally coming deep down your throat. You coughed and sputtered around him and gasped for air when he eventually let you go, his come dribbling messily down your chin where you'd failed to swallow it.

You panted as he sighed and released you, tucking himself back into his jeans but still leaving them open. You looked up to see that he hadn't shut the door, and several of his men were watching you. You weren't sure how long they had been there for and your face grew hot with embarrassment as you quickly looked down and wiped your mouth.

Joel huffed out a laugh,

"No use bein' all shy about it now, girl."

You didn't respond, still trying to clean up your face. He grabbed your chin roughly and made you look up at him.

"Answer me when I talk to you." He spat.

"I-I'm sorry." You scrambled to please him. Despite your past experience in the brothel, you still found yourself feeling exposed and vulnerable in front of his men.

Joel followed your gaze to the doorway and then looked back at you.

"Don't mind them sweetheart. They just like watching."

You nodded shakily.

"You're used to bein' watched' aren't you?" His voice dropped lower, the rasp of it making your pussy even wetter.

You hesitated for a moment too long and his hand reached down to grab your neck forcefully.

"I asked you a fucking question!" He shook you causing you whimper as his grip got tighter, your head starting to feel fuzzy.

"Yes sir!" You gasped.

He let go of you and stepped back with a smirk.

"Tell me what you like, baby." He murmured as his men began to trickle into the room.

You couldn't ignore the way your pussy bloomed with arousal. You could feel yourself slipping away into this role, it was already starting to feel natural. You hated the excitement you felt at the thought of being put on display by Joel. But then again, if you were going to be doing this no matter what, you might as well enjoy yourself. You told yourself that this was no different than the brothel, where you serviced multiple men a day and were often watched during it.

"I-" You bit your lip and let your eyes travel over his men's hungry stares before finally settling on Joel. You told him what he wanted to hear, but figured it wouldn't hurt to tell him what felt good for you as well.

"I like being watched." You mumbled, and after a pause you gained a little more confidence, "I like being watched when my cunt gets used." You said softly, locked in an intense stare with Joel.

You swore you could see his breath hitch, his gaze grew even hungrier, spurring you on.

"I like it when you give me orders." You continued, "I like it when...when you tell me I'm good." You finished the last sentence even softer. That one held the most truth, all you had ever really wanted was to be good.

Joel walked up and ran his hand over your head, cupping the side of your cheek in the way that made your heart flutter. He smiled down at you like he had when he'd given you his jacket at the campfire last night.

"You are good." He murmured.

He pushed you back uncharacteristically gently unlike he had the night before and you laid back, spreading your legs open compliantly for him. You couldn't deny how eager you were to give in to him, especially after the events of this morning. Watching him provide for you like that, catching such impressive game all by himself. He smirked as he viewed your cunt, glistening with the evidence of his effect on you.

He stepped aside and turned to his men.

"Prettiest little pussy in the whorehouse, n' it's all mine."

You throbbed sickeningly in response. You were trying to let go, you kept telling yourself that this was the same as the brothel. But you knew it wasn't. There was no Mr. Polk around here to make sure you didn't get too roughed up, or too humiliated. These were outlaws, they could do whatever the fuck they wanted.

"I love fucking her little whore pussy." One of the younger men piped up.

Joel turned to him,

"You loved fucking her little whore pussy, Beans. You ain't gettin' any more of it."

The man, apparently named Beans, frowned and a few of the other men grumbled, obviously disgruntled at the news that they didn't get to play with Joel's new toy.

He turned back to you,

"She's all mine." He nearly growled. You felt a twisted sort of relief flood through you. At least Joel was the only man who would be fucking you, and he did it so well. If you were his property, wouldn't he do anything to protect you?

You rapidly rationalized being on display like a piece of meat and watched with heavy lidded eyes as Joel reached forwards and slowly circled your clit with his thumb. You sighed and arched your back as he moved down to your opening, spreading your wetness all over. He applied more pressure onto your clit, watching you closely as you started to fall apart.

The pleasure dulled the constant grief that you had been feeling since you'd left home, at least it was a bit of a distraction. You let yourself get lost in it and writhed under the eyes of all his men. Moaning loudly, you gave them the show they were all so desperate for as Joel easily drew an orgasm from you.

You heard him laugh before he landed a spank to your pussy making you cry out and spread your legs even wider.

The men in the small cabin murmured in amazement. Your cheeks heated up as you realized how enthralled they all were with you, how you were the sole subject of their attention, and their desires.

You looked up at Joel, your chest heaving. He smirked down at you, seemingly satisfied with your performance.

"Good girl." He stroked the top of your head before sitting down, pulling you onto his lap and squeezing your ass in one of his massive hands.

"Get the fuck out." He barked at his men.

-

In the days that followed, you ate the venison Joel had caught and kept your head down.

You tried to learn what Joel liked and what he didn't, but it was hard. He didn't speak to you all that much besides when he gave you orders or fucked you. The initial shock had started to wear off, and it was starting to become clear to you that this was it, this was your life.

Whenever that particularly terrifying thought crossed your mind, you looked for ways to distract yourself, you usually just trailed after Joel wherever he went. He mostly liked to sit in silence by the fire, outside when it was warm. He'd whittle, drink, or just sit and stare into the flames. You couldn't guess what he was thinking about.

One night you came out to join him, sitting in front of his legs on the ground.

"What are you doin' out here?" He asked after a while, his eyes still boring into the campfire.

You shrugged,

"Just...wanted to keep you company."

He looked down at you, his face cold and tinged with what looked like a profound sadness, something that went so deep you weren't sure you could ever figure it out.

"I don't like being alone." You mumbled out, looking down at the grass.

He didn't respond, just stared back up at the fire.

Your heart sank and you laid your head on the inside of his thigh, strangely finding yourself wishing for a shred of affection from him.

He didn't move, didn't acknowledge you further but didn't make you leave either. You began spending nights like this with him often, where he'd sit and stare into the fire and you'd sit between his legs on the ground, your head on his thigh, gazing up at him.

It usually ended with him hauling you up into his lap, taking you into his cabin and fucking you.

It was only after he'd brutally pounded your cunt, his cum still leaking out of you, when he’d pull you into his arms and hold you fiercely. The rush you felt in those moments was indescribable, you hadn't felt so warm, so cared for, so held in such a long time.

You saw a different side of him when you both laid tangled in his blankets. When he stroked your back, running his fingertips over you lazily. It was as though he allowed a softer side of him to show through, just for a little bit.

You began to crave these intimate moments with him, the high from your multiple orgasms still washing over you. Feeling the closest thing you could to contentment. You began to enjoy night time a lot more overall. The main reason being that you didn't have to be conscious. You liked your rituals with Joel though, how safe you felt laying with him in those moments.

The rest of the time, he was hard and distant, making you want him even more. It drove you crazy, how you felt so connected with him yet he was still a total stranger to you.

He also couldn't keep his hands off of you. Whether it was simply a hand on the back of your neck or pulling you in front of him, cupping your pussy and grinding his hard cock into your ass no matter who was around, reminding you and everyone else exactly who you belonged to.

It was strange to you, how this man could simultaneously be so cold and distant but still hold you so close at night. You wished you could talk to him, you wished you could talk to anyone. The only people who could understand were miles away.

In the days that followed, you grew to feel more and more alone. You felt like you couldn't trust anyone here.

-

When you weren't being fucked, you tried to find ways to spend your time. You mostly read, wrote in your diary, or drew. You also explored the camp as much as you could, making sure you never ventured too far, lest he and his men think you were trying to run away.

Running away had crossed your mind, but you didn't even know where you would go. You had traveled for so long after Joel had bought you, the desert landscapes you had seen out there all looked the same.

Besides, you were sure you'd run into trouble out there. You had never traveled for long distances alone, you didn't know how to hunt, you could barely build a fire.

Not to mention what people could do to you out there, a pretty woman all alone. You were better off with Joel, whether you liked it or not.

One afternoon you decided to sit outside and read. You'd grabbed your Bible, only keeping it at this point because it reminded you of your father.

You were beginning to feel slightly comforted as you read, being brought back to sitting in church, Sundays that felt like a lifetime ago, before you heard a chuckle and an unfamiliar voice.

"Never thought I'd see a whore readin' a Bible."

You looked up from where you laid on the grass to see a handsome man, younger than Joel, looking down at you with a smirk on his face.

You had no idea how to respond to him, you sat up in the grass and looked around but there was only one other man milling about in the distance.

"I-I like reading it." You forced out, your voice small.

"You a good little Christian girl?" He teased and you felt your face grow hot. You looked up at him, his brown skin gleamed in the golden sunlight and his deep brown eyes looked kinder than most of the men at this camp. Still, he made you uneasy.

"I don't know." You shrugged and looked down, yanking at the dry grass, "It just...feels nice...readin' it."

He was quiet and you looked up out of the corner of your eye. He stepped closer so that you were at eye level with his covered cock, just a few inches away.

"You believe in God?"

You were quiet.

You looked up at him where he seemed to tower over you, his head cocked to the side and his hands in his pockets.

"I-I don't know." You mumbled.

He just nodded.

"Shit you been through, I ain't surprised."

"I-" You started and took a breath, realizing how meek you sounded.

"Sometimes I think He's there watching over me but...it’s gettin’ harder to think like that." You stared straight ahead into the tree line, wondering how close Joel was.

"No shit." He breathed out, "After all, what kinda god would let a nice little girl like you end up like this?"

The words hit you like a brick and your stomach churned with nausea because you knew it was true.

This man had no doubt seen you on display multiple times at the brothel, seen you debase yourself along with all the other girls there. Now, things have gotten even worse for you.

You couldn't find it in you to respond because you knew you would agree with him, and you couldn't bear to speak the words aloud. You stared at the ground as your fingers clenched at the grass, yanking the blades out in a nervous fidget you'd picked up a few days since coming here.

He crouched down and stroked your cheek with a finger, causing you to flinch away.

"Relax baby," He breathed, "I ain't gonna hurt you."

You tensed up but let him touch your cheek again, your eyes darting around nervously as if Joel would suddenly appear, full of rage at the sight of another man touching you.

"Hmm" He chuckled, "Shame I never got to try out your pretty little cunt before Joel took you all to himself."

You gasped softly.

"I'd take good care of you." He smirked and swept your hair out of your eyes, he leaned in closer, "I wouldn't have been able to keep my mouth off of you." He breathed, "Can't stop thinking about how juicy your cunt looked when he was showin' it off to all of us."

You shuddered as he ran a thumb over your cheekbone before turning your face to look at him. You stared at him, willing your expression to neutrality, trying not to let any of your emotions show.

You stared at each other for a while, the tension between you palpable. He huffed out a light laugh.

"Who knows," He murmured, "Maybe I'll get my chance someday." He pulled your bottom lip down slightly with his thumb. You stared him down, refusing to give him anything.

"Well, we got some supper on the fire." He said, suddenly casual as he stood up and began to walk away, "Joel's aimin' to be home by sunset." Then he stalked away, his walk smooth and alluring.

You didn't know what to make of the interaction, or of the way your pussy throbbed and wetness pooled between your legs.

-

Joel made it home as the golden light began to disappear and the sky deepened to a dark blue.

Your spine stiffened as you saw his silhouette breach the horizon. You had relaxed somewhat throughout the day, with Joel gone. He'd left at dawn, the bed cold by the time you woke up, and you found a part of yourself wishing he’d been around but also relishing his absence. He could be so terrifying and unpredictable and it had been nice to get time by yourself. Still, you had felt a strange yearning for him to return, yet now that he was here...you weren’t really sure how you felt.

Adrenaline flooded your system as he came closer and closer, dismounting his horse and bringing it into a small paddock a ways away. You got the sudden urge to run to him.

Your fear and hatred along with arousal and attachment towards him made you feel sick. You opted to sit on his bed, pretending to read one of your books.

Your heart pounded as you heard him walking up to the door. It slowly swings open, the creak of the hinges sending a bolt through you. Joel trudged in, his body heavy with tiredness. He leaned against the wall, sighing as he closed the door and toed off his boots; shedding his outer layers, he laid down his rifle.

You stared at each other a moment before he slowly made his way over to one of his chairs and flopped down.

You kept your eyes trained on him over the edge of the book and his dark gaze bored into you. Every muscle in your body was tensed and ready, you knew what was coming.

Joel jerked his head in a motion for you to come over and you stood up almost too quickly. He registered it with a small smirk on his face, making your core ache.

You approached him slowly, pulling your nightgown over your head and discarding it on the floor somewhere. You let your hips sway as you walked towards him, his eyes transfixed on your bare breasts and the curls that sat between your thighs. He licked his lips and you knew he was desperate to taste you.

"C'mere" His voice was deep, almost a growl.

He pulled you into his lap, having you straddle him in his chair. You expected him to pull his cock out and sink you down on it right away but instead he sighed and leaned back, letting his eyes run over you.

Your cheeks warmed and you forced yourself to keep eye contact, trying not to shrink under his searing gaze.

"Where-um, How was your day?" You stumble over your words, unsure of the right thing to say. You found yourself wanting to talk to him about anything. The only conversation you'd had with a person today had been the mysterious man who had approached you a few hours ago.

"Was alright." He muttered absentmindedly as he ran a hand over your head, letting his fingers trail down to your chest.

"Oh..."

You couldn't bear to let the conversion die before it even began so you tried again.

"What did yall do?"

He ran the tips of his fingers over your breasts, making you shiver. He looked up again, his eyes cold.

"It ain't right for a lady to hear."

You kind of liked it when he said things like that, made you feel like a respectable woman instead of the whore that he knew you were.

You couldn't help but huff out a laugh at the thought.

"I think I can handle it," You gave him a small smile that he did not return, "I've seen all sorts of things at the brothel."

Joel's expression grew harder,

"I ain't nothin like the sad pieces of shit that go to that place." He spat and you flinched.

"I-I'm sorry." You said quickly, you tried to duck your head down but Joel grabbed your chin roughly and made you look at him.

"I was out providing for you." He sneered, "You wanna hear about all the fucked up shit I've done? You wanna hear about my fuckin' day?"

His words shocked you and you squirmed in his hold,

"I-"

"If I tell you about all the people I killed today, is it gonna make your cunt wet?" He spoke, his voice deeper, huskier and you gasped.

"Today?" You couldn't stop yourself from recoiling as you looked at him in horror. He stared right back, his face a cold hard mask.

Your blood ran cold as he circled your breast with his finger, getting closer and closer to your nipple.

"What'd I tell you?" He scoffed, "Y'don't need to be hearin' about all that."

"I just...wanted to know..." You trailed off, unsure of what you had even been trying to do by starting this conversation.

"Well I don't wanna fuckin' talk about it." Joel rolled his eyes, "Look at how scared you're already gettin'."

"I'm not scared." Your tone betrayed you completely.

Joel huffed out a laugh, you weren't fooling him.

"It's okay darlin'" He purred in your ear, "I like it when you're scared."

His voice made you shiver with arousal.

"Makes your cunt get so tight." His voice took on an edge of desperation as he sunk two fingers into you.

You let out a sharp moan as you clenched around him, squeezing his forearm.

Joel just laughed softly, huskily.

"Yeah that's right. Ride my hand like the good little whore you are."

The way he spoke to you made you feel so dirty, it felt so wrong to find any semblance of enjoyment in this. But it was the fact that it was so wrong, so twisted, that filled you with a strange feral desire.

You tried to shove your conflicting thoughts away, focusing instead on how he was making you feel, how good he thought you were for him. You moaned as you rode his hand.

Joel suddenly pulled his fingers out of you making you whine at the loss of contact. He laughed at you, how desperate you must seem, how pathetic; a sad little whore he found and took home with him.

He stuck those same fingers in your mouth, making you jerk back at the bitter taste. Joel grunted and held the back of your head in place, keeping his fingers in your mouth.

"Clean 'em off for me." He commanded.

You tentatively closed your mouth around them and sucked, a spike of arousal shooting down to your pussy. No man had ever had you do this before, made you taste yourself.

"Yeah..." He whispered as you sucked on his fingers harder, whimpering.

He pulled them out and ran his wet fingers over one of your nipples, pinching and making you cry out.

"Couldn't stop thinkin' about this." His voice was still soft as he trailed his fingers down your stomach, "bout you..."

He rubbed painstakingly small circles on your clit, making you moan even louder.

"Couldn't stop thinkin' about your soft little cunt, all wet and grippin' my fucking cock."

His words had you in a tailspin, the fact that he was this infatuated with you, all he could think about was your cunt. Not just any whore's cunt, yours.

You knew it was fucked up but some part of you reveled in how wanted you were by this man, how prized.

"I thought about you too." You confessed softly.

"Mmm did you?" Joel murmured and moved a lock of your hair away from your face.

"Yes" You whispered and hid your face in his neck, his large frame engulfing you as he reached around you and dragged a finger from the front of your pussy all the way up to your asshole.

You moaned and shivered, rolling your hips against him shamelessly. This wasn't like working at the brothel, where the men you serviced so often became a blur. You were lucky if the encounter was half pleasurable. Most of the time you would pretend you were enjoying it, it was all just a performance for you.

But this...this was real, raw. Joel made you feel weak, like you couldn't resist him.

"I know" He whispered in your ear as he began rubbing circles on your clit once more, "I know"

"Joel" you whined and pawed at his chest as your orgasm rose within you. In the soft light of the cabin, you let it all melt away, everything except this, this feeling.

You gasped as he moved his fingers faster, moaning into his neck as you came, your release coating his fingers and dripping down into his lap. You looked down in shock, then looked back up at him.

You just stared at him, you weren't sure what to say. That had never happened to you before. After a while Joel smirked and moved his fingers back up to your lips. You opened your mouth immediately and sucked on his fingers again, it made your sensitive cunt throb with arousal and you whimpered around him.

"Mmm fuck" Joel murmured, "You made a mess baby."

You froze with his fingers in your mouth. Was he mad? You hadn't meant to.

Joel seemed to sense the shift and withdrew his hand.

"I'm sorry..." You swallowed, your face burning.

Joel, to your surprise, laughed.

"You poor thing, they didn't take very good care of your little cunt down at that whorehouse did they?"

"No man there ever did what you do to me."

"And what's that?" He asked, his tone laced with arrogance and a hint of playfulness, it spurred you on.

"No man down there looked at me the way you do." You said softly, and you knew that it was true, from the moment you had locked eyes.

You ran a hand down his shirt, unbuttoning as you went. Your conflicting feelings about him earlier were far away in the back of your mind. Because he was right, none of the men back at the brothel had ever been capable enough to take care of you, not like him.

"No man there touched me the way you do." You continue, kissing up his jaw making him moan.

"No man there has ever made me orgasm like that." You let out a squeal right after as he spanks your ass.

"I know" He growled, his forehead pressed into yours, "I could see it in your eyes. Knew you needed a real fuckin' man."

You whimpered and nodded,

"Joel please..." Your hands clawed at his belt as his hands enveloped your breasts, you arched your back as he massaged them.

"You fucking want it don't you?" He panted, and you nodded feverishly, "You little fuckin' whore."

You moaned at his words and he spanked you again,

"Thought I told you to answer me when I talk to you."

"Fuck I want it." You moaned, "Please Joel, please I want your cock."

"Go 'head and take it then."

Your stomach fluttered and you reached for his belt buckle before you could talk yourself out of it. Because all you wanted in this moment was him inside of you.

You deftly pulled out his cock and sat up, letting him align himself with your cunt before he grabbed your hips and pulled you down. You cried out at the stretch, at how fucking good it felt to be full of him.

"Oh fuck" Joel sighed and leaned his head back in his chair, closing his eyes as he let out a slow deep breath. You felt his whole body relax, tension he'd been carrying with him throughout the whole day finally leaving him with every squeeze of your cunt.

You just sat there for a moment, watching his chest rise up and down and his eyes flutter. He slowly brought his head back up to face you. Sighing again as he began running his hands over your body, playing with you languidly.

This was something you had begun to learn about Joel; when he could, he liked to take his time with you. It was almost tantalizing.

He ran his fingertips ever so lightly up your sides, making you shiver and clench his cock. He groaned and gripped your side as he leaned in and kissed you bruisingly, licking into your mouth and claiming you all over again. You moaned against him as he held the back of your head.

You let him take you, consume you, carve a space for himself deep inside of you. This was nothing like anything you'd had back at the brothel.

Joel broke the kiss and leaned down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking gently as he held your breast in place. The sensation sent an electric current through you and you gasped, your hips beginning to grind on him of their own volition. He moaned against you and wrapped his arms around your back, pulling you even closer. His tongue swirled around your nipple as he sucked and bit you, driving you over the edge.

You began grinding your hips on him faster, chasing your high with a deft precision that came with being a whore. Joel pulled his mouth off of you, gasping and moaning. His eyes wide and face contorted in pleasure.

You rarely saw him like this, saw his carefully placed mask slip and got a peek at the feral, crazed man underneath.

Your cunt spasmed around his cock as your pleasure built within you. You chased it desperately, the day had been so dull and empty; suddenly you needed this.

“Mmmm Joel” you whine, your voice getting more and more high pitched as you grabbed at his hair and leaned forward, using your hold on him to drive his cock deeper into you.

“Fuck wait-“ Joel’s gruff voice in your ear was cut off as he moaned depravedly. He struggled to keep quiet, his hold on your hips tightening.

He was coming undone, unraveling at the intense and feverish pace of your hips, snapping forward over and over again, riding him like you would a horse.

He rolled his hips up to meet yours desperately, his eyes locked on the way your tits bounced as you rode him.

Your moans got more and more high pitched as you neared closer and you dug your fingernails into his shoulders as you chased your high.

Joel tried to move you off of him but you were so close. Without thinking you pushed him back in his seat with all your strength and ground on his cock, letting it move and massage that special place inside of you.

Your pussy spasmed around him as you soaked him, shuddering and moaning. The pleasure felt unreal and you moaned and panted, letting your head fall onto his chest as your hips slowed; feeling like you’d been sent to another world.

Suddenly you felt Joel’s hands on you, pulling you off of him in a vice grip and throwing you down onto the bed.

“Who the fuck told you that you were in charge?” He seethed, his face flushed, hair wild and cock rock hard, glistening with your cum where it jutted out of his jeans.

You couldn’t help but let your eyes fall down to it.

Joel scoffed and got down on the bed. He got between your legs and pulled you by your knees so that his hardness bumped your cunt.

“I’m sorry,” you moaned as his tip brushed against your clit, “you just felt so good.” It was a weak apology and Joel knew it.

He shoved his cock into you, hard. He set a brutal pace immediately, snapping his hips against you over and over. You cried out at how sensitive you were.

“You wanna use me to get your little cunt all satisfied?”

“No…” you managed to gasp out as you clutched onto the bedding for dear life.

“That ain’t how it’s gon’ work around here sweetheart.” He spat, “You don’t get to fucking disobey me.” His voice rose as he fucked you even harder than before. His cock was hitting so deep inside you it began to hurt.

“I won't, I wont I promise!” You cried out.

Joel growled as he wrapped a huge hand around your throat,

“Just gotta put you in your place don’t I?” He rasped and drove his cock inside of you.

His hold on your throat caused your head to spin and your pussy to throb. Thankfully the pain you had felt earlier was beginning to turn into pleasure and you could feel another orgasm rising within you.

You were too sensitive though, every stroke of his cock was too much. You whined as you hurtled towards the edge, not even feeling like you were ready to fall off of it.

Your release hit you like a train and you screamed and shuddered as you clung to him, crying out his name over and over again as if it were a prayer.

You panted as you came down but Joel didn’t let up the pace. You sucked in a breath and tried to move off of him but he held you in place.

“I ain’t done yet sweetheart.”

“Joel please I-I can’t…”

“Can’t imagine a whores cunt could ever get tired.” He smirked and you knew he was punishing you for how you’d used his cock earlier.

“None of them were like you.” You choked out, “None of them had your cock.”

Joel moaned and seemed to lose himself in the rhythm. You continued to tell him what you knew he wanted to hear.

“I-I’m sorry, I just couldn’t resist you��your cock Joel…it-“ you whined as he hit deep inside.

“What?” He panted, his eyes crazed and his hips rhythm getting uneven, he was close.

“It’s perfect.” You breathe and realize that you’re not lying, at all.

Joel lets out a string of moans as he comes deep inside of you. You sigh as the warmth fills you, soothing your abused pussy.

Your cunt flutters around him as he lies on top of you, catching his breath for a moment before he gets up, pulling out of you.

He clears his throat as he steps away and you reach out for him, only to have him ignore you.

“Joel?” You ask tentatively as he sits back down in the chair.

“Spread your legs.” He commands.

Your stomach flares with arousal and you feel your puffy and used cunt throb all over again.

You slowly spread your legs for him, showing him what he’s done to you. The cold air felt somewhat soothing on your swollen cunt and you moaned softly as you clenched around nothing.

You feel his cum leaking out of your hole slowly. Joel watches it, his eyes transfixed on your cunt.

“Good girl.” He murmurs

-

He couldn’t tear his eyes away, mesmerized by the mess between your thighs. The way your pussy would sometimes clench and spasm, forcing more of his spend out. He wondered if you even knew you were doing that.

He began loading up his pipe with tobacco when you shifted.

“Keep ‘em open.” He grumbled and settled back, sparking up. He breathed deep, letting the smoke fill his lungs.

“Sorry.” You propped a pillow between your back and the wall, making sure to keep your legs spread for him.

“Yeah…” he breathed, “should be used to it, keepin’ your legs spread all the time.”

He watched as your eyes widened and how you sucked in a breath. Your cunt spasmed and he smirked. It was a great idea to have you spread open like this for him; he could see exactly how his words affected you, because he knew they did.

“Men at the brothel never wanted to just look at me like this.” You cut through the silence, your voice soft and breathy in a way that made him want to fuck you all over again. 

Joel’s eyes flitted up from your cunt up to your face.

Your expression was a mix of apprehension and wild desire. 

“None of them ever really looked at me.”

He smiled, you were coming along so well.

“I like seein’ what’s mine. Seein’ you like this...” He took another puff, “Can’t hide nothin’ from me when you’re like this sweetheart.”

Your eyes darted around and you tensed, your cunt clenching around nothing.

You still didn’t close your legs. Joel couldn’t help but laugh softly, you were coming along very well indeed.

@pedge-page just remembered that u asked to be tagged in pt 2 lol thanks for the support❤️

[jolalibrary]

i read a lot on AO3 now, and don't always get to scream about them in my fic recs library on here, so welcome to "the peppered pages", pull up a chair!

*some of these works might be on tumblr, but my aim is to shout about what I've read on AO3. please read the warnings on fics.

tumblr fic recs | AO3 writers database | my AO3

stick buddies by @auteurdelabre francisco morales x f!reader | series enemies to friends to lovers / fake dating

dark heart by @almostfoxglove javier peña x f!reader | multi-chap/open series friends to lovers / dual pov

tool time by @covetyou joel miller x f!reader | oneshot cock worship, smut.

crazy on you by @goodwithcheese joel miller x f!reader | series smut, no outbreak, sneaking around

neighbourhood watch by @joelalorian francisco morales x f!reader | oneshot flirting, fluff and humourrrrr

thunder (only happens when it's raining) by @wheresarizona javier peña x f!reader | part of series, can be read as standalone husband!javi, comfort

see you at three by @almostfoxglove joel miller x f!reader | series no outbreak, slow burn, sweet/flirting

whatever my wife wants by @javierpena-inatacvest javier peña x f!reader | oneshot newly married, smut, chain wearing javi

landslide by @dancingtotuyo joel miller x f!reader | part of collection no outbreak, lil' something something wink wink

strike by @secretelephanttattoo joel miller x f!reader | complete no outbreak, bowling owner!joel miller, fluff

the outlaws by @mothandpidgeon joel miller x f!reader | series old west au, grumpy joel

whatever we left unspoken and... @flightlessangelwings din djarin x reader | oneshot protectiveness, smut

if you wish to have your work removed, just drop me a dm! otherwise see you in a week or so for the next round up.

[animasolaoriginal]

I n n o c e n c e L o s t 🟪 1

After a successful little heist, Ben finds himself in a brothel, where he comes across a girl he hasn't expected. Overwhelmed by her innocence (and a strange wave of long forgotten memories), he makes a decision that will change his life - and hers - forever, as he takes her away, unknowingly pulling her out of the clutches of an enemy he had no intention of ever confronting again.

lonely cowboy/outlaw ✖️ prostitute who's so much more than that

Chapter 1◻️2◻️3◻️4◻️5◻️6◻️7◻️8◻️9◻️10◻️11◻️12◻️13 ...

GENERAL TAGS: NSFW! Explicit! Size difference, age gap, slow burn romance. Cowboys, outlaws, prostitutes. Historical inaccuracy. Horses, guns, violence.

WORDS: 5.9k 🟪 READ ON AO3

A/N: This is a repost of the first chapter of my original story Innocence Lost. I decided to re-work the existing posts to fit my theme a bit better, so I needed a proper introduction post, I guess. Also: Ben may be an OC, but he is heavily inspired by both Arthur Morgan (and RDR2 in general) and Joel Miller, and somehow also fits the other guys I tagged. I know this is not about your favorite character, but I'd really appreciate it, if you'd give Ben's story a try!

1 🟪 2

Bourbon, rum, whiskey, anything that burns on his tongue, spilling liquid fire down his throat. It all blurs in the end. There's laughter, slurs, hands slapping backs, stumbling, murmurs, more laughter. That post-heist-haze sinking into his bones. Everything whirls inside his head as he makes it up the stairs. “Gimme your best...newest,” he hears himself mumble.

Last door on the right. Somehow he makes it there, leans heavy on the door knob, twists it, almost falls as the door swings open. There he stiffens, blinks slowly, his motions so heavy, frozen in time, slow as molasses. The door closes behind him, he stares ahead, blinks again, eyelids almost stuck to his eyeballs.

And yet he sees her.

The room is dark, small, a large bathtub in one corner, a four-poster bed in the other. An old armchair next to a fireplace, the fire roaring within, the only light source. And in front of it, between the flames and the chair, kneels a girl, pale legs illuminated by the orange glow next to her, skin, so much skin, not everywhere though. Her slender torso is covered by a loose blouse, unbuttoned in the front, falling off one slim shoulder, held together by a tight corset that pushes up her small breasts, creating a cleavage that doesn't suit her. Thin arms in wide cotton, or satin, he can't be sure, it doesn't matter.

He's fixated on her bare legs. The blouse barely covers the hint of hair between her legs, peeking out despite her kneeling position, thighs pressed tightly together as she sits on the heels of her feet. Her hands rest folded on her lap, the chest is moving up and down, and his eyes wander again, to her face. Pale. Soft edges on the jaw, high cheekbones, a small straight nose, lips... full lips, pink and shiny, a tongue darting out and wetting the bottom one.

And those eyes. Big eyes, glowing in the dim light, greenish, blue maybe, like the deep sea at midnight, a wave illuminated by the moon. They look both surprised and eager, but the flutter of her nostrils tells him she is more surprised and shocked by his sudden entrance, by the unsteadiness of his large body.

She looks so young.

Something stirs within him, and not just the strain in his pants, but something more like a knot in his stomach. This is wrong. He stumbles further anyway, watching her closely. She flinches when he comes closer, but doesn't move. Somehow he makes it to the armchair, flops down in it with a heavy grunt, his belt tilting even more on his hips. He shifts his holster away. Her eyes follow him.

He stares at the girl in front of him, immobile, waiting, patient and yet anxious. What is she waiting for? Why isn't she moving? Why is she here? When she eventually moves, only slightly, a little shift on her knees to face him, he lets out a groan, and she stops, eyes wide.

“How old are you?” he slurs, tongue heavy in his mouth.

She tilts her head, long brown waves falling over her shoulder, some strands gathering in the cleft between her pushed-up breasts. “Old enough to please you, mister,” she replies, her voice feeble and quiet, but there's a fire behind those words, uttered in confidence as if she's done it before, many times.

“Age,” he grunts again, staring at her. She holds his gaze, jaw clenching slightly.

“Eighteen,” she says quietly, her chin tilted up a bit.

He narrows his eyes, he's noticed the twitch in her folded hands, the tension in her slim shoulders. “Really?”

“Yes, sir,” she whispers, tilting her head. “Why does it matter?” she then asks, a little louder, batting those long eyelashes. “You're here to have some fun, aren't you?”

“You're young,” he simply states. Not too young, maybe, but young... young enough to make him think despite his drunken state. This is wrong. She shouldn't be here. “How long have you been here?” Done this?

“All my life, mister,” she answers, and he frowns, deep creases on his forehead that hurt inside his temples. “I was born here.” The ache grows. His head thumbs to the beat of his thundering heart, mirroring the throbbing behind stiff fabric.

He leans forwards then, causing her to flinch once more, as he rests his elbows on his thighs and stares at her, scrutinizing her, takes in her young face. Pretty, no, beautiful, in spite (or because) of the rounded edges of her face. She's slender, sharp collarbones visible in the wide opening of her blouse. Those soft mounds tease him, urge him to release them from their unnaturally squished state.

His hand twitches, itches to touch her, but something holds him back. She's young. And... weirdly familiar. His eyes narrow even further as he squints at her, her small frame dark in front of the crackling fire. She shifts under his intense gaze, body stiff, hands wringing in her lap.

“Sir?” she whispers, lips moving slightly, a sweet voice like honey falling from them. Lips... full, shiny, wet, and a sudden image presses into his hazy mind. Lips parted, closed around –

He clears his throat and leans back with a grunt, wiping at his face, the scrape of his beard against his calloused palm a rough noise in the quiet of the room. He sighs deeply, lowering his hand, resting it on his upper thigh as he watches the girl.

“You shouldn't be here,” he huffs out, wetting his dry lips.

“It's my job, mister,” she says, tilting her head to the other side.

He shakes his head. “This shouldn't be a job... not for a young girl like you...”

“I'm eighteen –”

“You're a child!” he grunts, louder, rougher than intended.

She flinches, inhaling sharply, lowering her big eyes. “Do you want somebody else?” she whispers quietly, almost disappointed.

Suddenly he is aware of the noises around them, bleeding through the walls from the other rooms. Moans and cries and squeaking wood and metal. They crawl over his spine like ants, making him shiver as he stares at the small figure in front of him. Why is he here?

She is still sitting on her knees, stiff and immobile, waiting. For what? Her eyes look up at him, chin tilted, the slender column of her neck visible between her silky hair, soft skin, untouched (really?), innocent. Why is she naked below the waist?

He waves a hand at her, his arm stiff, heavy, the alcohol making everything harder to do. “Shouldn't be here,” he growls, tongue twice its size in his mouth. Does he mean her? Or him? Or both? He doesn't know. His mind is fuzzy, spinning out of control. His cock strains against his tight jeans. But his heart is protesting.

“Sir?” she asks again, blinking slowly, dark lashes batting against pale skin.

He leans back into the chair, inhaling deeply, closing his eyes, relaxing. Big mistake. Suddenly there is a warm hand on his knee, a touch like a pistol shot. He jerks awake, stares down at the girl, who has shifted, kneeling between his spread legs now, the same position, just closer, frozen in time with her other hand hanging in mid-air, ready to touch his other knee.

“What are you doing?” he grunts.

“Giving you a good time,” she replies quietly, and a shy smile curves her full lips. Lips around – He groans, rubbing his face again, his tired eyes. “You paid for this, mister. You should get something for your money.”

He shakes his head, hands back on his thighs, staring down at her. She is closer in her new position, backlit by the fire behind her, features blurring. Both hands are on his knees now, warm and small, hesitant but eager. Her pushed-up breasts nearer, the cleft between them deeper. His hands itch.

“Do you like doing this?” he utters, the words spilling without being processed in his muddled brain.

There is a flinch, a wince, a visible reaction in her tense shoulders. She swallows, her throat moves, but the smile on her lips is there, the lie tangible. “Of course, sir,” she whispers. “Let me show you how much...”

She leans up then, lifting from her knees, her hands sliding up his thighs, almost brushing against his. Actress, he thinks. Nothing more. He can't imagine –

But then he does: full lips around a variety of different – He clenches one hand into a fist, presses it to his upper thigh, straining, ignoring the tension in his stomach. The image stays. Lips, a wide mouth, bulging cheeks, closed eyes, tears streaming down a pale face, slurping sounds, helpless gurgles, muffled gasps, rough hands in her hair as her head is pushed deeper onto –

A groan escapes him. “Fuck,” he growls, shaking his head. His eyes find hers, his breath heavy, his body on edge, the strain in his pants almost unbearable, and yet...

She is settled between his legs, shoulders pressed against his thighs, hands inching closer to his belt. “Don't,” he hisses, and his hands grab hers, making her gasp, her lips parting, eyes widening. His long fingers curl around her smaller ones, holding her, inches from the tent in his pants. She looks startled, then confused.

“But mister...” she whispers, letting him hold her hands, her wrists. His hands are large enough to wrap around it all. Lashes flutter, the tip of her tongue sliding over her upper lip. She trembles slightly.

And then he lets go, and his hands grab her face instead, careful, as careful as he can in his dazed state. She lets out a surprised yelp but stays perfectly still as he cups her cheeks with his big hands, his fingers slipping into her soft hair, his thumbs wiping at the corners of her mouth. She holds his gaze, holds her breath.

“You look like...” he starts, quiet, a low rumble in his chest as he stares at her, his mind spinning, new and old images whirling together.

Soft lips, wet, full, strained around –

Green eyes, sparkling in the sun, a smile, a laugh like honey on his scarred soul.

“Her,” he mumbles, tilting his head, leaning closer until his nose brushes against hers. She stiffens, but doesn't move, can't move with how he holds her face. She swallows slightly, lips trembling against his thumbs.

“Who, sir?” she breathes softly, warm and cautious against his dry lips. Her eyes are on his face, taking in every detail with how close he is. Scars, wrinkles, creases, his rough beard stretching along his jaw, up his cheeks, around his lips, fluttering slightly as he breathes through his nose.

“Keira,” he finally utters, the image clear in his dazed mind. The same woman. No, not the same, similar, and a woman, not a girl. The same hair, the same small nose, the same eyes. “You look like Keira.”

And that's why it feels wrong to use her like he wanted to when he first entered the room, to be here, in this house of moans and grunts and creaking wood and metal.

The girl stares at him, lips parted, face warming under his palms. There's recognition in her deep eyes, darkened by the fire glowing behind her, the only light source. “You... knew my mother?” she whispers, barely audible, shifting back onto her knees, bare legs folded beneath her, her hands straining against his thighs.

His heart sinks and swells at the same time. Mother. Her mother. She looks like her. Like Keira. But what is she doing here? I was born here, she has said. Bound to a life of... servitude. Pleasure for others. A slave, a body to use, for money. The moans and grunts of the other rooms flood his ears, louder than before as his mind clears up, as the shock settles in.

“No,” he says apprehensively, a low hum over his dry lips, and his hands tighten around her delicate face. The girl frowns, he notices his mistake. “I mean, yes, I knew her,” he utters quietly, staring at her, gently caressing the corners of her lips with his thumbs. “I didn't know... about you...”

She blinks slowly, watching him, curiosity in her big eyes. Her lips part, a flood of questions ready to spill over them, but he lets go of her face and leans back, shaking his head.

“What happened to her?” he asks, already afraid of the answer as he drives a big hand through his messy hair.

The small figure between his legs shrinks as she sits down further on her knees, her hands leaving his thighs, resting on her lap. She lowers her eyes, inhales sharply. “I don't know,” she whispers. “She... left me here.” There's a hint of resentment in her soft voice, and he can't blame her. Anger rises in his throat like bile.

“She did what?” he hisses, leaning closer again.

She flinches, looks up. “Madam Claire said she worked here, got pregnant from a customer, gave birth to me, and then left, ran away, without me...” Her voice breaks as she retells her story, and his gut clenches.

The tiny frame in front of him shrinks even more, falls into herself, and he can't stand it. He leans in, brings his hands under her arms and lifts her up, easy, as if she was a doll, her wavy hair bouncing slightly. She struggles in his grip, but then she's sitting sideways on his lap, her very bare bottom warm against the fabric of his jeans. She stiffens when he pulls his arms around her shoulders and her against his broad chest.

“I'm sorry,” he slurs, his tongue heavier than ever.

“What for?” she breathes against his collarbone, where the buttons of his black shirt are open, revealing weathered skin.

He sighs, his hand wide on her back as he holds her, his breath making strands of her hair fly before he presses his dry lips to her warm forehead. She lets out a strangled gasp, tenses in his embrace, her hands squished between his chest and her own. “If I'd known about you – I... wouldn't have left you to this – to endure this fate...” he mutters, his heart as heavy as his tongue.

“Why do you care?” she asks, her voice quiet but curious.

“I loved your mother once, many moons ago, twenty years it must be by now,” he says into her hair, his own voice a deep thrum in her ears. “She left me, one day, and I made the mistake of letting her go. Maybe I pushed her to end up here, maybe she wanted to work like this... she's always been a free spirit, couldn't stay long at one place. I guess... I learned that from her.”

He feels her fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as she slowly relaxes on his lap, leaning against him, warm and tiny and frail. “What do you mean?”

“I travel a lot,” he says simply, sudden images of tents and horses and wagons filling his mind. But also of masks and guns and blood and shouts, and comically large bags filled with money, cowering people, screaming women, the rattle of a train, the silent squeak of metal doors, splintering wood. And pictures of him, drawn, some more flattering than others, and his name printed all over them. Dead or alive.

She tilts her chin up, big eyes looking at him, her lips parted slightly, long lashes grazing pale skin. He sees her better now, in the orange glow of the fire. She looks like Keira. But she's alone, left to her own devices, forced to work a profession she was born into, that she didn't choose. “What's your name, mister?”

He frowns at her innocent question, trying to forget the Wanted posters. “Ben,” he growls, a deep thrum in his throat. “And yours?”

“Nebbia,” she replies quietly, her eyes wandering over his face, her small body molded into him, warm on his lap, pointy bones digging into his thigh, pressing on his erection. Nebbia like Neigh-bee-ah, long e, more like ehh, short i, like an e, and the little ah at the end, like a soft moan. Rolls off her tongue like honey.

“Nebbia,” he repeats, her name rumbling out of him as he tries to figure out why Keira would name her daughter this. But then a smile crosses his lips. “Fog in Italian,” he whispers and watches how she nods, the same kind of smile curving her lips. He wonders if Keira has made it over the pond, finally seeing the country she always wanted to visit. But why did she leave her kid?

Free spirits can't have children pulling them down, grounding them to the earth, binding them to one place. The poor girl... If Keira knows what happened to her? What she has to do?

Full lips around –

He clears his throat, his big hands resting on her small waist. She still looks at him, somewhat hopeful, big eyes, there's innocence in them, but also something else. A shadow in her green irises. A stain.

“Why aren't you wearing any bottoms, Nebbia?” he asks quietly, his fingers teasing at the curve of her rear.

He sees her blushing, red spots dancing over her pale cheeks. She looks away, a shy smile tugging at her lips. “I figured it'd be easier for you...”

“Easier for me?”

“I heard you were drunk, very drunk,” she whispers into his neck, her fingers fidgeting with the buttons of his shirt. “And I thought –”

He stares at her. In his mind, he can see her lips straining around a variety of cocks, but he can't see her lying on her back with her legs wide open, taking any of those wretched members into her sweet little – “Have you ever...” he starts, furrowing his eyebrows. “Am I your first? Would I be your first?”

She licks her lips, then chews on them. A nod, short and jerky. Eyes dancing over his chest. The sigh that escapes his throat is both filled with anger and relief. She is young. Inexperienced, has never learned the reason why those women in the other rooms cry out in pleasure. She (her mouth) has only been used for the pleasure of others, and that fact only spurs his anger, makes the vein on his forehead pulse.

Why did they choose her to satisfy him? Gimme your best...newest, he hears himself mumble. Newest. Freshly eighteen, huh? Just come of age, open for business. (To think this filthy little brothel has actual rules and has given her time to develop is almost absurd.) He closes his eyes for a moment, relieved it was him who found her without bottoms.

Because he knows he will not soil her innocence.

“I'm gonna take you with me,” he mutters as he closes his arms a little tighter around her, holding her safely on his lap.

“What?” she breathes, trying to look up despite his bear hug.

“I can give you a better life,” he says softly, tilting his head to meet her gaze.

“Why?” Despite her innocent tone, there's doubt in her voice. Disbelief. Why would anyone want to be nice to her?

He laughs darkly. “Because you deserve it?” One of his hands moves up, caresses her warm cheek. “Unless you actually want to keep sucking dicks.”

His lewd words make her flinch, her face flushed as she looks away, takes a sharp breath, her fingers clawing at his shirt. She shifts on his thigh, her body tense. “I... don't...” she mutters under her breath.

“Do you want to come with me?” he asks, pressing his thumb under her chin to make her look up. Her eyes are wet, glistening, her lips trembling.

“Can I?” she whispers, a tiny flicker of hope in the green pools that stare at him.

He smiles, a genuine smile that lights up his rough face, deepening the dimple on his cheek. “If you want to. I can get you out of here, no one will notice anything...” he tells her quietly, watching her closely.

There's turmoil behind her eyes, shivers running down her body, her throat moves when she swallows hard. “They'll be angry with me,” she breathes, blinking, looking away, her eyebrows furrowed. “The women...”

“You don't owe them anything,” he says, the hand on her lower back applying soft pressure, fingers playing with the laces of her corset. “They may have raised you here, but they made you do heinous things that no girl your age should do! No respectable woman without her consent...”

“And the men? Some of them come here only for me...” He stiffens at her words, imagining those sleazy men, salivating at the thought of shoving their cocks down this poor girl's throat. “I bring good money...” He scoffs at that, shaking his head.

“And how much of that do you see, hm?” he asks her, tilting her chin back up so she looks at him. She inhales deeply, avoiding his gaze once more. “Yeah, that's what I thought...”

“I have a comfortable life –”

His hand closes around her throat, long fingers pressing into her skin. She stares at him, gasps, eyes wide. “Sweetheart, you're eighteen now, you're fair game. Men will do anything to you now, fill every single hole you have!” She gasps again, cheeks flushing at his blunt words. “You might have gotten used to sucking dick, but believe me, opening your legs will be a whole other ordeal.”

She frowns at that. “Is sex really that bad?” she whispers, voice feeble, bashful, he's surprised she is able to get these words out at all.

A laugh rumbles through him as he eases his grip on her neck. “No, sex can be amazing, but with the wrong person, there can be a lot of pain and discomfort, and the consequences...” He looks at her, holds her nervous gaze. “You're so young, you deserve better than a drunken guy forcing his cock into your hole, leaving you either completely soiled and sore, or sick, or pregnant...”

She cringes and pulls a breath through her teeth, averting her eyes once more. “You talk so obscenely, mister,” she mumbles.

He breathes out another deep laugh. “It's the harsh truth, darling. That's how the world works, get used to it,” he says matter-of-factly.

“And you want me to go out into that world?” she whispers quietly.

“Trust me, out there you'll be better off than here, if you stay with the right people. I'd worry about your current world,” he mutters, listening to the noises from the other rooms, remembering, despite his haze, how run-down this building is, its clientele, and the state of the whole town.

She can't stay here. He won't leave her, now that he knows of her existence. She's Keira's kid, and unlike her mother, he will never abandon her.

Sighing deeply, he moves his hands along her body, encircling her waist, gripping her gently, before he picks her up and puts her on her feet next to the armchair. She stares at him startled, her hands immediately going down to cover her modesty. He grunts and stands up too, towering over her. She takes a cautious step back as he starts swaying, the alcohol still buzzing inside his head.

“I could really use a bath,” he growls, wiping at his eyes, trying to dispel the dizziness. The girl stands next to him, so tiny and frail, the gentle curves of her legs backlit by the fire, her soft face tilted up to look at him, her long hair cascading down her shoulders. For a moment he is mesmerized by the sight, by how naturally beautiful she is – how out of place she feels.

When he feels the strain in his jeans, he sighs again and turns away, stumbling past her towards the tub in the corner. There's already water in it, a thick layer of soapy foam even, and when he dips a few fingers into it, he notices that it's still a little warm. He can't remember it, but he must have left a good penny in this establishment, for booze, a hot bath, and the best...newest –

He turns back to her. She is still watching him, standing behind the armchair, her hands on the backrest, biting her lip. “Hey kid, you wanna join me?” he calls to her, his fingers already at the buttons of his shirt.

She inhales sharply, then walks around the armchair, her naked legs catching his eye for a moment. “I'm not a kid, mister.”

“Ben,” he corrects with a smirk, now working on undoing his belt. It creates a thud when it falls to the wooden floor, his holster and the heavy pistol pulling it down. Her eyes follow his movements as he undresses, kicks off his boots, steps out of his jeans, shrugs off his shirt. Then her feet tap over the ground as she rounds the tub and stands on the other side.

“Not a kid, Ben,” she whispers, chewing on her lips, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her blouse as she drags it lower to cover the hint of hair between her legs.

She doesn't look away once he is completely naked in front of her, his clothes, gun and bags discarded on a chair, but he can see the red in her cheeks when her eyes flick down to his hard cock, bouncing slightly when he raises a leg and steps into the tub. The semi-warm water lulls his muscles as he sinks into it with a groan, stretching his long legs, leaning back, placing his arms on the edge, before he looks up at her.

“I meant it, Nebbia,” he says softly, tilting his head. “Come join me. I promise you don't have to do anything but sit with me.”

“I... shouldn't...” she whispers, her eyes trailing over his naked chest, half-submerged in the tub, before she looks towards the door. “We're not allowed...”

“I paid for you, didn't I?” She looks back, meeting his gaze, and he smiles at her. “Technically I can do anything to you. But I just want you to enjoy a semi-hot bath. There's still enough room,” he adds and spreads his legs, creating a space between them on the other side of the tub.

She hesitates, and he wonders why. Moments ago she seemed content to give him a good time, as she has called it, but now she is strangely coy for a prostitute who's had her throat fucked countless times before. The image of her lips strained around a cock – his cock maybe? – comes back into his mind, and he has to clench his jaw tightly to fight the urge to grab her and pull her close, do all those things to her that he has warned her about. That he's promised not to do to her.

Eventually she turns around, presenting her well-formed rear to him, those plump little cheeks, well-rounded, squeezable, the cleft between them guiding his eyes between her legs, but when her hands move up to the string holding her corset, he sighs, nodding to himself when he sees her predicament. He reaches out and tugs on the bow with one finger, loosening the tight laces slowly, carefully, and she lets him do so.

The stiff thing falls down her hips once it's loose enough, and she steps out of it, slowly turning back to him as she unbuttons the rest of her blouse and shrugs it off her slender shoulders. He can't help himself, he stares at her naked form.

Keira's kid. Half his age. He's promised her a better life.

And still he can't look away, taking in every detail of her body. How her small breasts perk, nipples hard already, the gentle slope of those mounds he wants to weigh in his big hands. How her hair falls over her shoulders, soft springy waves, silky, the same color as her mother's. His eyes trail down her chest, over the shimmer of ribs under thin skin, the flat stomach and little indent of her belly button. And that small waist, the swell of her hips, soft pale legs, cushioned thighs, and between them, the hint of hair above her sex.

Her skin is pristine, pale like alabaster, unmarked, pure.

There's a blush on her face that slowly spreads down her shoulders and between her breasts, and he has to force himself to close his eyes as she steps closer and lifts a leg to step into the tub – even though he wants nothing more than to take a peek at her sweet little cunt. Unused and innocent. He has to keep it that way.

Water splashes against his stomach when she sits down opposite him, knees bent and pulled against her chest as she settles between his outstretched legs. He looks at her with a gentle smile, and she smiles back, her eyelids fluttering.

“Not bad, eh?” he laughs quietly, moving a fluff of foam towards him with his big hands, then lathers his arms with it. She just sits there on the other side of the tub, watching him.

“Do you really mean it?” she whispers after a moment of both of them just soaking in the water.

“What?” he grunts, leaning his head against the edge of the tub as he slides a little lower, using the space she's left to fully stretch his body.

“That you're going to take me with you,” she replies, her eyes scanning his face.

He sighs, his breath blowing a tuft of foam towards her. “Yes, I mean it. I won't let you stay here, objected to all these... things,” he says. “You're Keira's daughter, and even if she might not have wanted you, I will take care of you.”

She frowns, trying to ignore the sting in her heart, the flinch of her tense shoulders at his words. “But why? You don't know me! And I don't know you! Why should I go with you?”

“You wanna stay here? Rot away and die in ten years or sooner?” His voice is harsh, his eyes dark, his jaw tense. “There's no money to be made if you stay under your Madam's thumb. You'll just be another body with a bunch of holes, destined to take it all, if you want to or not. How is this a life you'd want to continue?”

She licks her lips, her arms hugging her knees tighter. “I have food and a roof above my head...” she says quietly, averting her eyes.

He scoffs. “If that's your standard, then I can assure you that you will never go hungry, always have a comfortable bed, be safe from the elements, when you come with me.”

“But why?” she asks again, finally looking back at him. “Why are you so... nice to me?” She takes a shuddering breath. “Just because I'm the kid of a love lost?”

“I thought you weren't a kid,” he teases, and she groans with a slightly exasperated smirk. “I know it's a rare thing for people to just be nice nowadays, but you can trust me. I'm a good guy,” he lies through his teeth, a glint in his eyes.

“And you expect me to believe that?” she says, shifting in the tub, extending her legs slightly, her feet brushing against his inner thighs. “I might not know how the world works, but I see the men coming here. I've seen all types. And you look like the type I might encounter on a Wanted poster.”

He raises his eyebrows, his lips twitching. “Interesting assessment, missy. And you can tell by just looking at a man's cock?”

She grunts in indignation and splashes water towards him. He laughs and shields his face with one arm. “A fine gentleman would never talk like that...” she mumbles.

His laughter gets even louder. “And you expect a fine gentleman to walk into this establishment? Do you know where you are?” She scoffs and crosses her arms in front of her chest, slowly stretching out her legs until he can feel the soles of her feet pressing right against his groin. “Careful now,” he warns.

Her cheeks are flushed, but that doesn't stop her from rubbing her foot upwards and along his hard shaft, pressing it into his lower stomach. He watches her closely, holding in a groan. And she looks right back, green eyes hard and a dark smile on her full lips. Lips around his cock. He leans back and lets out the noise he has been suppressing. Her toes curl around his tip, his breath hitches in his throat.

And he savors the moment, just a moment, a few seconds, because it feels good. She is good, doing what she does. Would be a shame to stop her now, hm? But then he leans in and lowers his hands into the water, grabbing her ankle, stopping her after all. She yelps quietly as he pulls her leg towards him, causing her to slip. Her hands squeak along the edge of the tub as she tries to hold onto it, but before her head submerges, he lets go of her, letting her leg rest on top of his thigh.

She scrambles back into a sitting position, her eyes on him, her lips parted. “I don't have a choice, do I?” she then whispers, allowing him to put his big hand on her shin, holding her there.

He smiles at her, his eyes twinkling. “Correct, sweetheart. I will force you to have a better life, no matter what,” he says quietly, rubbing his hand up her leg.

She inhales deeply and leans back, her arms resting on the edge, hands hanging off, as she relaxes in the water, under his touch, with her bare chest exposed to him. Trusting. “You're a strange man, mister... Ben,” she whispers, smiling softly as she watches him.

He grips her thigh gently, winking at her. The buzz from the alcohol is as good as gone, replaced with a different kind of vertigo. Ignoring the twitching of his cock under the water surface, he keeps his eyes on the girl in front of him, taking in her features, a strange warmth gathering in his stomach.

He came here to celebrate the successful heist, drink himself stupid and have a good fuck afterwards. He hasn't expected to meet Keira's kid here, to be this attracted to her, to tell her he wants to take her with him. But he has, is, does, all of it, he wants her by his side, wants to give her a chance at a different life, away from pleasuring strangers every night of the week.

Does he want her for himself? Maybe. But he still also genuinely wants her to be happier, be herself, have the freedom that he has. She deserves it. And he does too, selfishly so, to have her.

1 🟪 2

End notes: Welcome (and welcome back) to my first original story with real original characters who keep pestering me to continue their story.

Please note that I am no expert on anything wild west/western/horses/cowboys/brothels/etc. - I write silly little love/smut stories. This story, even though it's not mentioned, is set at the end of the 1800s somewhere in the west, I'm keeping it vague on purpose, this is about Ben and Nebbia.

Thank you for reading!

AO3 🟪 MASTERLIST 🟪 INSPIRATION POSTS

[guess-my-next-obsession]

pairing: cowboy/frontier!joel miller x oc / unrequited tommy miller

rating: Explicit (Minors DNI)

summary: set in the early 1900’s in Texas, Joel Miller, a young, single father who just hung up his outlaw hat, meets Dorothea Mackey, a headstrong farmer’s daughter who instantly earns the attention of Joel’s younger, wilder brother, Tommy. Only issue is, she doesn’t want wild. She wants Joel.

joel masterlist | series playlist

Chapter One

Chapter Two*

Chapter Three (coming soon)

[bumblepony]

Tess Lives Fic Rec (No Outbreak Version)

Here are my Tess Lives fic recs in no particular order! These are all fics where no outbreak happens. I have a separate list of Tess in the QZ fics coming in the next couple of days.

Making Mirrors, a Tess/Joel Modern AU by @hypnotisedfireflies - A parallel universe to Drifters - the life lived had Cordyceps not conquered the world. - Mature

Tin Star, a Tess/Joel Western AU by @hypnotisedfireflies - The Sheriff and the Outlaw: sweethearts, bandits, soulmates. Magic horses. - Mature

Night Fever, a Tess/Joel 1970s AU by @hypnotisedfireflies - 1970s Bodyguard/Boss AU. - Mature

Of Artists and Architects by @emilylawsons - A Cordyceps-Free Tessjoel AU. - Mature

littlest digit, you've got the world by the handle by @ketchupchipsaregross - Ellie turns one surrounded by family.

smoke, ash, and strays by @ketchupchipsaregross - Joel (a firefighter) just wants to do his job and go home smelling like a campfire, it'd be great if the raccoon child from the alley would let him do that in peace.

dodors (and other birds) by @ketchupchipsaregross - How Tess and Joel accidentally restarted parenting in their 40s.

put it down in the pleasure of your company by Nyxierose on AO3 - "Normal functional people who live in mid-ring suburbs occasionally ask favors from people nearby and it’s not weird at all." Or, in which Tess gets into a lot more than she plans, but what else is new. - Mature

sweeter than sin by @raffinit - MODERN AU: Joel is a single dad of tweeny bopper Sarah. Tess is a single mom of teeny bopper Ellie. They've established a pretty comfy routine of being strictly fuck buddies. Until they're not. - Mature

the conjuring by @bradfordchens - Married demonologists Joel and Tess Miller hunt the supernatural together, all while raising two daughters.

we could walk forever, walkin' on the moon by @boopernatural - The one where Joel, Tess and Ellie take a family road trip to see a shuttle launch.

If I Had To Stay In A Haunted House With Anyone, It Would Always Be You by Steph_Puppet on AO3 - If someone had told Joel a few years back that he would end up traveling across the country with a self-proclaimed medium, sending ghosts back to where they belonged, he would not have believed them.

This section includes stories in which Tess is a Part of the story, but the story revolves more around a different pair's dynamic. So, Tess is more of a supporting cast member. These are still great stories, but Tess is just not a primary player.

a light in the dark of this danger (bookshop!au) by @two-birds-alone-together - The Bookshop AU! Joel Miller owns The Back Shelf, a bookstore located in Back Bay. He has no idea that his life is going to change when a girl walks into the store on an oppressively hot Boston day.

Ellie Williams' Guide to Teenage Rebellion by @simoncowellstits - Ellie is the president's Daughter, and Joel is her secret service agent.

Right Where We Belong by cauldron_zeta on AO3 - Frank has upheaved his life to move to almost the middle of nowhere. His closest neighbour isn't really a people person but Frank has always liked a challenge. - Mature

Compassionate Friends by @mildredellie - Ellie & Joel meet at a grief support group they were both forced to attend.

move so quickly (it can't catch me) by @howtotrainyourdoofus - Ellie navigating her first job as a professional ballet dancer and all the joys and strife that come with it.

Stubborn Love by @renegadeknight - Your favorite feral father-daughter duo repackaged, now with 95% less zombies and 99% more modern problems (golfing isn’t one of them)

world around you by @boopernatural - Joel's first date in two decades gets interrupted when his kid needs him.

To Have Loved Someone by Joels_revolver on AO3 - On her way back to Jackson, Ellie is teleport into a world where the cordyceps doesn't exist and Joel is very much alive.

At the end here, I am adding a few authors who have written so many good Tess Lives stories it's best to just go pursue their AO3 pages.

tessaservopoulos - @bradfordchens on Tumblr - Mature

Glitter_Gecko - @seethesunny on Tumblr - Mature

sillylily07 - Mature

Last, I am going to add my Tess Lives fics under the cut because I really am not trying to toot my own horn, but I want to have them on the list so I can have them all in one place.

Fate Makes Fools of Us All - Tess is Ellie's foster mom AU. - Mature

A Soul For Sale Or Rent - Ellie is a Ghost, and Joel is the only one who can see her. She needs his help to figure out what happened to her before it's too late.

In Another Time and Another Place - Joel and Tess meet at a bar in an Alternate Universe where the Cordyceps Outbreak never happens. - Mature

Ashes denote that Fire was - Behind Closed Doors - The Firefighter Joel Miller AU that only a few people asked for and I just had to write it. - Mature

Construction Corner with Joel Miller - Joel has his own TV Show on HGTV and Ellie is a foster kid who comes on as a helper and things progress from there.

And Baby Boy Makes Four - An AU where no apocalypse happens, and Joel has two kids with his ex-wife, Sarah, and a son called Junior.