I loved this so much đ The angst was so good, and the way they both yearn for one another 𼚠Your words were so beautiful and they flowed together perfectly! The fact that Joel doesnât think he deserves her, but yet she wants him so badly đ So beautiful
NEPHILIM: THE FALLEN - Jackson-era!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader
summary: fallen or damned? who's to tell when it's joel miller?
a note from Lucy: DONT HATE ME I KNOW ITS BEEN A LONG TIME!! Not entirely happy with this but it's been sitting in my docs for months now and i had to get it out there to give me some peace of mind so please be aware it may well be riddle with grammatical mistakes and typos galore. as always like, comment and reblog to save a sinners sanity!
playlist | moodboard + poem
wc: 2755
Warnings: 18+ MDNI DARK CONTENT! Jackson era!post outbreak!Joel, no use of y/n, reader is referred to as âBambiâ, verbally constipated Joel Miller, brief gore descriptions, heavy religious imagery and references to the bible, biblical lore, yearning, idiots in love, angst angst angst!!!!!!, bombastic age gap!!! yahhhhh! (reader is in her 20âs/ Joel is in his late 50âs), smut, oral sex (m! receiving), rough oral sex, possessive!joel, dom!joel/sub!reader dynamic, you know the drill with my writing, thereâs probably some form of cannibalism as a metaphor, or brutal violence as a metaphor, religious imagery as a metaphor, etc. (aka, fancy word vomit) - Lucy crying over a bloody google doc :)
series masterlist | m.list
Ephesians 2:3 Among them we too all formerly lived in the lusts of our flesh, indulging the desires of the flesh and of the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, even as the rest.
The sky was bruised. It was like Godâ or whatever resided up thereâ knew. The grey clouds, and the garish yellow of the setting sun, and the deep blue that ebbed into purpleâŚthey all knew. Your heart ached too. Bruised. It seemed to crack a little more each day. What started as nothing more than a hairline fracture had split into a gaping, weeping slice. Why? Because Joel was always quiet. For such a large man he had a ghostly habit of creeping into a room without notice. Creeping into your heart too through your hollow ribs. You could feel him behind you now though. His breath thick on the nape of your neck and it cooled the thin sheen of sweat on your skin. Soothed your burning flesh while saving it from the inferno. The tension became bearable. These little spaces of empty matter between all else. That slight awkwardness about his usual stoic yet confident demeanourâŚit was endearing now.
You were easing into the silence, content with watching the bruise darken from purple to midnight blue. The sky would turn on its bright little stars, and the moon would slice through sapphire as the early evening aged. The sun was going to rest now, the greying moon taking its post to watch over the town. You should follow the sunâs direction. Close your eyes so as to not have to witness his all too soon departure.
His fingers, so gentle, so strong, gently traced the curve and divot of your hip under the covers. It was strange to think just moments prior they had been inside you. Making you feel boneless in bed.
âBambi?â He asked, tentative and uncharacteristically uncertain. He loathed it; the change in him.
âMhm?â You hummed lazily, your hands tucked under the pillow to keep them warm, knees curled up to your chest. But no answer nor following question came. You knew what it was. He was cramming something back down his throat before he had the chance to say it for fear of being out of line. One day it shall choke him blue. He was strung so tightly. Tension in his shoulders that made them rise uncomfortably. And you noticed this when you turned to face him. Neither of you spoke for a moment, as if you were fooling yourself into believing he might continue. Your heart cracked a little more when he turned to face the wall,
âNever mind. Itâs nothinâ.â He had no reason to be weary of you. However in the past few weeks, coming up to a month, there was subtle, almost imperceptible unease that lingered. And festered. Palpable. Tangible. You could feel it when you reached out to touch his skin. So warm and gorgeous. Golden like ichor in this setting sunlight. You dared to press your lips to the wing of a shoulder blade, skin mangled with scar tissue where you liked to imagine wings once resided, and felt him flinch under your featherlight kiss. âDonât, Bambi.â
âJoel-â
âI said: No.â His voice was firm, and didnât give much leeway for convincing. âItâs not somethinâ you know how to fix.â But you were stubborn now. Youâd found your feet. You stood your ground more, imitated behaviour. Before he could turn away again you reached to right him, set him flat on his back upon the mattress and splay your hand over his soft stomach under the covers. His throat tightened when your hand ventured timidly south. Then his breath tangled in his throat when it wrapped loosely around his half hard cock. Gently stroking it until it stood to attention in your palm. âLet me helpâŚthe way I know how.â You whispered into his ear, running your tongue under his earlobe to bring it between your teeth. Voice like honey, so sweet, and smooth, and slow pouring enough to get stuck in. Jesus Fucking Christ, he hated himself for even entertaining the idea of letting you do this for him. For being the one to help you find your feet. For being the man who tarnished innocence. It seemed all he did these days was ruin what little good there was left in the world. Heâd taken an entire inkpot to a pristine sheet of paper, splattered black all over it without a care in the world until now. He felt like the space between you was stygian and reeked of his own sin. It simmered and spat and writhed and any moment now I would boil over the second you came to terms with the fact you were too good for him.
His nostrils flared with the thought but with a twist of your wrist he melted. Because at the base of it all, the very depth of his humanity, he was a selfish, selfish man. You watched a swallow pass down the thick column of his throat and rested your head on his shoulder while your hand dragged up his thick, full shaft, thumb smearing a bead of precome over the delicate flushed skin of its head. Joel watched the ceiling and wallowed in pathetic self pity as you kissed your way down his navel, lips moving in a mumbling of words he couldn't quite hear. He let out a breathy moan when you wrapped your lips around the tip, pressing your tongue flat to the underside to let the taste seep onto your tongue. He then closed his eyes trying to imagine anyone other than you between his legs. Another mouth. Another tongue. Someone else's voice.
It was no use because it seemed your eyes, the shade, the shape, were printed to the back of his lids. He gave up. He was too old to try to partake in sisyphean tasks.
Joel sat up and you moved between his legs as he threw the covers off to watch you. His back to the headboard, your warm mouth inviting him deeper, he hesitated to press a hand to the crown of your head, but when you pulled off to lick a flat tongued strip from base to tip, he found himself taking a fist of your hair and righting you over the head completely, pushing down so he slipped into your mouth. Muscle memory had the twitch of a smirk forming at the corner of his lips. The sight of you was enough to have his hips begging to buck, chasing the back of your throat, attempting to find that reaction again.
What you couldn't take of him you wrapped loosely in one hand and the other cupped his balls, adding the slightest pressure that had a dirty cuss passing his chapped lips. Deep inhales billowed in his nose, nostrils flared slightly as he dragged your open, salivating mouth up and down on his length. What he would never understand is how much you hungered for this every time. There was a pain in wanting him like no other, and a reward this great sowed the seed of pleading. You didnât mind yearning for him because, to you, being hungry was quite a satisfying feeling. It feels nice to want something. To yearn. To have a purpose. You imagined he felt quite the same with the way he could hardly keep his hands from your cunt or your mouth when you passed his front doorâs threshold.
âLook at me, Bambi.â He grunted, and your eyes fluttered slightly before the hue of them locked on his through your tear clumped lashes. âIâd like this mouth a whole lot more if it didnât say such pretty things to me.â He almost lamented, and you felt a tug at your heartstrings. âMakinâ a man hope again.â
Joel sighed, eyes closing for the briefest second. His large hand was still pushing your head with the gentlest of force back down, then his fingers gripped at your hair, dragging you again so the warm, silken touch of your lips and tongue made the fire in his belly start to burn. It was aching, and deep rooted, and had a slow simmer to it. One he begged to hurry along. Joel wanted nothing more than his release so he could set you free again. Set the bird free of its cage. So he threw caution to the wind, and soon you felt the tip of his thick cock reach the back of your mouth again, your throat constricting. âWhy wonât you hate me, huh Bambi? What did I do to deserve this?â He asked. If you knew no better youâd have thought his tone implied he hated it. His teeth gritted, words seethed between them. He spat it out in a way that made him seem unworthy of your attentionâ or the very taste of the thought disgusted him and made his stomach pull up in a wretch. Joel bit down so violently on nothing he swore his molars might turn to dust and clag in spit with the way he was salivating over the sight of you; Puffy lips, bloodshot watering eyes, messy hair. Bent over him and sucking on his cock like it was your only goddamned purpose in life.
You wanted to reply, splutter out the words, but he silenced you. The tip of his cock brushing the back of your throat, and causing your stomach to recoil, tensing as you gagged. Retching slightly as he grimaced at the sound. âYou know I canât love yââ he stopped mid sentence as the ache bloomed into a deep burn. You were oh so grateful because it meant you wouldnât have to hear what you yearned not to. What you buried deep beneath your stomach and above your diaphragmâ that slow, blooming ache. The feeling would never see the light of day. Youâd rather die than come to terms with the fact that Joel would not be yours. He belonged to the world. The mass of nature that befell you. That which kept you human and incompetent. He was large, untamable, and oh so delectable in all ways other than matters of love. Joel Miller could not love you.
âFuck- gonna come, Bambi.â He choked out, head falling back. You looked up at the sight of him through your lashes, lips parted, his brows creased gently in the space between them. Just as you yearned for him to love you, you yearned to be destroyed by him. Coated in him, broken down to pieces by him. Joel Miller could quite literally break you in half, then half again, and againâ to the point where nothing was discernibleâ and you'd get on your knees to thank him for it all. Maybe loving him and being destroyed by him were two in the same?
In the months youâd known him youâd grown to learn that this was as close to a purpose as youâd get. The world robbed you of one, so you searched for it. Selfish enough to keep digging to find one. Only it had no purpose. It has a pattern now, and patterns trick and deceive people into believing in divine intervention. Joel was your divine right. Your purpose. That was what you believed. What you thought about each night. What you thought about now as you took his cock down to the base, the head of him brushing the back of your throat and folds soakedâ drenched in the essence of your own arousal. All of which was emphasised by the ache you felt between your thighs that ebbed a little deeper with wanting. A ghost of the pleasure you felt when he was inside you. You entertained it with two fingers slipping between your thighs, teasing your clit. âGodâ BambiâŚâ He groaned, eyes rolling back in his head as he let go. Hot ropes of his release flooding your mouth with their heady, salty taste.
You pulled off his shaft, now wet and slick in your own saliva, swallowing a mouthful of his release. His eyes never left you, honing in on the ripple of your delicate throat as you swallowed his come down. Joel couldn't help but hook a thumb into your mouth to unhinge your jawâ to see if anything was left. Nothing was. There never was. Like him, you were too selfish to leave anything.
He should have known better. You never disappoint. âBambi, youâre too damn good for me.â he panted, skin sweat slick and flushed.
âI promise I'm not.â you whispered to the skin of his lips before he wrapped a large, steadying hand around your arm and pulled you up to his chest. His face met yours and when you looked into those hickory eyes you could have melted on the spot; For the hue of them was nothing like you'd ever seen before, and could command nations to their knees. And if not nations then it could certainly do so to you. âIâm just as damaged as you.`â
The words had his gut in knots because they were akin to holding up a mirror to his visage. And holding his head in place. Holding it still so he was forced to look himself in the eyes and reflect. Reflecting on the monster heâd become. The monster he would always be.
âIâm not asking you to love me, Joel.â You spoke, your voice quiet, slight and timid. Uncertain of his reaction. The way your eyes met his was proof of that. Wide like a foal, wide enough to register the unjust curl of a lip. â Iâm just asking you to stayâŚâ
The words had been burning the tip of your tongue red raw. Each night as he lay beside you, the same questionsâ words made up of nothing but consonants that had a profound effect on youâ would hardly let you rest in his arms. They tortured you instead; Mocked you. It was the equivalent of hanging. You could feel the ghost of a noose around your neck. It might as well have been His hands. It was as rough as them after all.
What is wrong with you? What is so repulsive about you that warrants his departure? Was it the curve of your hipsâ their dips? Or even the bump on your noseâ how dare it not have the perfect influxing curve! The slant of your eyes? The jagged stretch marks on the inside of your thighs! Not only had they the nerve to exist in their silver, shining mockery, posing as a diamond, but they had the fucking nerve to sit where others could see. Fuck them entirely and their very existance. Were those very thighs plump enough? Too plump? Why was there no gap between? Was there too much of a sag to your breasts? The colour of your nipplesâ why did they have to be that colour? Were the lines on your forehead marring your skin? What on youâ about youâ detested him? Because if you knew you'd cut it off. You'd change it. You take a knife to your nose and cut it off even if it was just to spite your own face. Now, laying here with him, you wish to be anyone but yourself. Yourself was the woman that disgusted you. It would always be the woman that disgusted you if he didnât fall in love.
âThat's jusâ the thing, Bambi.â He sighed, his mouth moving in a slow hushed mumble. His wind chapped, weathered lips grazed the shell of your ear, âI already do.â Followed by silence, and then: âAnâ I ainât no good at it, Iâm afraid.â
That was the problem. Joel thought it had to be a life lived in an entirety of carolling laughter for you. A warm, joyous time. The kind of peace the world seldom granted anyone anymore. Not bound to him by the twine of his selfish nature. In the wrong manâs bed. If the world had told him anything before it was that he deserved to be alone. First Sarah. Then Tess. Ellie too. It was only a matter of time before you left too. He had no clue that what you wanted was just to be held. To be kept. He didnât have to carve out a hole in himself to accommodate you. Nor give an arm or a limb. He just had to stay. Exactly where he was now. Exactly as he is. But selfish men believe in selfish things. And Joel Miller was a selfish man.
Maybe he wasn't. Humans are, after all, selfish creatures. If we are innately selfish does that make us selfish, or just human. Regardlessâ Joel was selfish. Yes. But more importantly: He was the damned, the scrutinised, the beggar. All of the above.
Joel Miller was, and forever will be, the fallen.
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Mothman Fever
Mothman!Joel Miller x F!Reader
Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist
Authorâs note: Shout out to @nostalxgic for making this killer graphic for me!! Also the kick ass banners and !!Mothman!! dividers are by @saradika!! This was my first time writing any sort of monster fucking so let me know how I did!!
Summary: You and your friends head to Point Pleasant, West Virginia in late September for the Mothman Festival. And thatâs where you meet Joel Miller, a fellow Mothman enthusiast. But once you spend some time alone with him you realize that heâs not who he says he is.
Word count: 5.6k
Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, no outbreak, drinking, semi public sex, use of pet names (luna lol), oral sex (F receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, sex pollen, dub con, monsterfucking, no use of y/n
âDonât you think Mothman is kinda hot?â
You glance at your friend Tara in the rear view mirror and raise your eyebrow.Â
âHow can a moth be hot?â
âOh, come on! You know heâs not a normal moth⌠heâs got like⌠muscular legs,â Janelle, your other friend, chimes in from the passenger's seat.Â
âYou donât wanna fuck Mothman?â Tara asks.Â
â... No? And you do?â
âHow can you be a Mothmanner and not wanna fuck him?â she continues.
âMothmanner?â you snort.
âMothman enthusiast, whatever you wanna call it.â
âNot really. Iâm more interested in him for scientific purposes.â
âThat just leaves more of him for us, Tara,â Janelle says.
âYeah, after you examine him for research weâll tag team him.â
âYou guys are gross,â you say, rolling your eyes.Â
Janelle grabs your phone connected to your car through the aux and opens Spotify, searching for a song.
âWhatcha playinâ?â you ask.
âJust a silly little diddy. Perfect driving song.â
The sound of a creaking door and a bubbling sound comes through your car speakers. You know exactly what she chose. As the drums kick in you ask, âReally? The Monster Mash?â
âItâs festive,â she shrugs.
âOh yeah, turn that shit up,â Tara adds.
You roll your eyes and turn up the volume. You take the Point Pleasant exit off the highway and the anticipation brews in your stomach. Youâre into all sorts of cryptids but thereâs something different and intriguing about Mothman specifically that you canât put your finger on. Youâve been picturing this moment for a long time but⌠not with Monster Mash playing in the background.Â
Janelle turns down the music and says, âLook what I found on Facebook! Thereâs a group Mothman stakeout tomorrow night at the McClintic Wildlife Area. We should go!â
She hands Tara her phone and lets her look at the event details.Â
âSounds like fun. You down?â Tara asks, handing the phone back to Janelle.
âI mean, why not?â you say, entering the residential streets of Point Pleasant.Â
To say the city of Point Pleasant is enthusiastic about the Mothman Festival would be an understatement. The city is decked out in decorations and the streets are littered with people in costumes. As you get closer to 4th Street, where the Mothman Museum and the famed Mothman Statue are located, it gets even busier. A black banner hung between two telephone poles reads âWelcome to the 20th Annual Mothman Festivalâ in white block letters. You drive down the street slowly, careful not to hit any festival goers on your way to your hotel, passing the Mothman Statue before turning onto the street your hotel is on.Â
You park your car and hastily grab your bags before heading into the lobby to check in. A hotel like this in Point Pleasant, West Virginia wouldnât normally cost a lot but itâs Mothman Festival weekend and hotels across the area have jacked up their prices.Â
You get your room keys from the desk and head to the room to change quickly before hitting the town. Itâs still quite early in the day, only around two in the afternoon and thereâs plenty of festivities to be had. You change into a black t-shirt that says âMothman ate my entire ass at a Dennyâsâ, a pair of ripped jeans and a pair of converse before heading out with your friends.Â
You walk down the street and head to your first stop; the Mothman Statue who is unreasonably buff, complete with a six pack and a tight ass. Each of you take pictures slapping his ass before taking a ânormalâ group photo standing beside it.Â
The next stop is Village Pizza where they have a pizza with toppings arranged to look like Mothman. On the way there you stop and take pictures with other festival goers who are dressed as Mothman, just having a grand ole time.Â
You arrive at the pizzeria and get a booth, waiting for a server to come take your order. And thatâs when you see him. No, not Mothman but an attractive human man sitting at another booth across the restaurant. You make contact and look away out of shyness. But something about you tells you to look at him again. And when you do you find heâs looking at you still, mouth curving into a smirk when you lock eyes again. This time you notice his features; graying hair, deep brown eyes, and a strong nose. Heâs wearing a flannel and leaning forward on the table, resting his elbows on it. He gives you a small wave and you wave back without thinking, prompting Tara to ask, âWho are you waving at?â
âNo one,â you say quickly, looking away from the man.Â
âNah, youâre lying. Iâm gonna look,â Tara says, starting to turn around.Â
âDonât-â you start but itâs too late. She turns around and spots the man, who also shoots her a wave.Â
âHim?â she says, turning back to face you. Janelle turns around, too. And just like with Tara, the man waves to her.Â
âAnd what about it?â you ask.Â
âOh, heâs hot. Go over there and talk to him,â Janelle says.Â
âI canât.â
âWhy not?â Tara asks.Â
âIâm⌠not that forward.â
âItâs the Mothman Festival, go fucking wild,â Janelle shrugs.Â
âAgreed,â Tara nods.Â
âOkay, fine. Fine! Iâll go,â you say, sliding out of the boot, legs already feeling like jelly.Â
You walk over to him and watch his smirk turn into a full smile. You stand by his table and feel stupid. What kind of person makes eye contact with someone in a restaurant and just decides to boldly introduce themself? What if heâs here with another girl?
âHi, um, Iâm here with my friends and I saw you across the restaurant and I, uh, thought Iâd say hello,â you say nervously, feeling even stupider by the end of your pathetic introduction.Â
âHey there. Iâm Joel. Would you like to join me?â
âAre you here with anyone?â
âNo, just me. My brother was supposed to come but he bailed on me to go to New Jersey.â
You sit down across from him, continuing the conversation.
âAh so youâre not from around here?â
âNo, just here for the festival, like Iâm assuming you are,â he says, gesturing to your shirt.Â
And now you feel self conscious of what youâre wearing but stupid shirts like this are literally all you fucking packed.Â
âDonât be embarrassed. I think itâs funny.â
âThanks,â you say awkwardly, feeling your cheeks heat up.Â
âYou doing anything tonight?â
âNothing in particular tonight. But tomorrow night my friends and I are going to that group Mothman stakeout at the McClintic Wildlife Area.â
âOh nice. Iâm going to that, too.â
âIt sounds like fun!â
âWell if youâre not doing anything tonight maybe I can take you out to the bars tonight. I think some alcohol would loosen you up and make you less shy, Luna.â
âS-sure that sounds like fun. What time?â you ask, heart fluttering at the nickname.Â
âAround eight. You staying in the area? I can meet you at your hotel.â
âSounds good!âÂ
You tell him the name of your hotel and get up to go back to your friends.Â
âAnd by the way,â he says, stopping you, âIâm Joel.â
You tell him your name but he still chooses to say, âSee you tonight, Luna.â
You walk back to your friends and sit in the booth, finding that they already ordered the Mothman pizza and were waiting for you before they started eating. But they didnât mind.Â
âSo who is he? Whatâs his deal?â Tara asks.Â
âUh, his name is Joel and heâs here for the festival.â
âAlone?â Janelle asks.Â
âHis brother bailed on him to go to Jersey.â
âWho bails on the Mothman Festival to go to New Jersey of all places?â Janelle says.Â
âNot sure about that but he asked me to go out tonight.â
âYou said yes, right?â Tara questions.Â
âI did⌠Was I not supposed to?â
âNo! No, you need to go. Right, Janelle?â
âAgreed.â
âThanks, guys⌠Heâs also going to McClintic tomorrow night, too.â
âOooh,â they both say in unison.Â
âItâll be fun,â you say, âBut letâs eat and get the other stuff on our list done. I feel bad Iâm leaving you guys tonight.â
âDonât feel bad. Heâs hot,â Tara says, taking a bite of her slice of pizza.
âAnd older,â Janelle says.
âYeah, yeah, whatever. Weâll see if it even works out.â
âYou sell yourself short. You went over and made the first move. And then he asked you out. Heâs gotta be interested,â Janelle continues.
âI guess youâre right.â
âI always am,â she laughs.
You finish your pizza and head to the next stop on your list; a local coffee shop called The Coffee Grinder, where they have Mothman shaped cookies complete with red eyes. You eat your cookies and finish up at the coffee shop before heading back to the hotel, weaving in and out of the festival crowds. You get to your room and go to change, looking to wear something less embarrassing but⌠thatâs not possible with the clothes you packed. You decide to put on a shirt thatâs a little bit better; one that reads âI kissed Mothman in the lamp section of Home Depotâ and opting for a skirt with the same pair of converse.Â
Tara and Janelle wish you good luck on your date before you leave. You go down to the lobby a little bit before eight and wait for Joel, anxiously pacing back and forth. You feel a hand on your shoulder, startling you. You turn around to find Joel, greeting you with a smile.Â
âOh, itâs just you.â
âJust me. Didnât mean to startle ya.â
âNo worries. Where are we going?â
âJust one of the local spots downtown. Thereâs a band playing there tonight.â
âSounds like fun!âÂ
And with that youâre walking side by side to the bar. The streets are even more lively than they were earlier in the day. You try not to notice the way he puts a protective hand on the small of your back whenever you walk through a crowd.
He leads you off the crowded street and into a bar thatâs also just as busy. Luckily, he spots some empty stools at the bar and leads you over there. Itâs pretty loud so getting to know him here might not be in the cards for tonight but at least youâll have the alcohol to loosen you up a bit like Joel said. Joel orders a beer and you order a special blood orange margarita, complete with a gummy butterfly on topâ how festive.
âYou must be pretty into Mothman, huh? I guess ya gotta be if youâre coming here,â he says, half shouting over the loud music.Â
âHaha, yeah! My friends think heâs hot.â
âReally?â he says, eyes widening as he takes a sip of his drink.Â
âYeah, I donât really get it! I just think heâs interesting but if he were real theyâd probably try to fuck him or something.â
âYou wouldnât, Luna?â he asks, a playful grin spreading across his face. There it is, that nickname again. Â
âYou would?â you counter.Â
âMaybe if he bought me dinner first,â he laughs.Â
After a few more laughs and another round of drinks, you feel yourself loosening up a bit and enjoying the night more. From what you can tell, Joel seems like a nice, southern guy whoâs a fellow cryptid enthusiast, no red flags so far.Â
âI have to ask, Luna⌠Do you have a boyfriend?â he asks after the third round of drinks. Heâs definitely a little tipsy by now.Â
âNo, sir,â you say, immediately regretting the sir that slipped out.Â
He inches a little closer to you, eyes looking you up and down, and says, âWhat do ya say we get out of here?âÂ
Is it a stupid idea to leave a bar and go somewhere with a man you just met earlier that day? Probably. But do you care? Not really, especially in your slightly inebriated state.Â
You nod and he flags down the bartender to pay the tab, before grabbing your hand and walking you out of the bar.Â
âWhere are we going?â you ask when you step back out onto the street.Â
âWherever,â he says nonchalantly, âBut tell me Luna, are you a dirty girl?â his large hand grabbing your waist as you walk, pulling you closer into him.Â
You canât deny you want him. And youâre feeling a bit more confident than usual.Â
âFor you? Sure am.â
âDirty enough to do it in an alley?â
âOh fuck yeah,â you drunkenly say, excitement building up between your legs.Â
He turns a corner, leading you down a small, dimly lit alleyway. You ignore all of the red flags practically screaming at you. Between your undeniable attraction to Joel and the alcohol, your judgment is heavily impaired to say the least.
He walks you to the end of the alley, to a spot where you hopefully wonât get caught. With a brick wall pressed up against your back, he starts placing wet, open mouthed kisses along your neck, hands greedily pawing your breasts over your shirt. A small gasp escapes your lips when he nips at the soft skin on your neck, hard enough to leave a mark that your friends are definitely going to question later.Â
His hand slips under your skirt, toying with the fabric of your underwear; your damp underwear. He pulls it to the side, running his fingers along your entrance, collecting whatever wetness is there and bringing his hand in front of your face to show you.Â
âThis,â he says, rubbing his thumb against his index and middle finger, pulling them apart and watching your wetness stretch with it, âis all the evidence I needed,â he finishes.Â
The deranged and devious look in his eyes as he looks at the physical evidence of how bad you want him makes your knees weak. He brings his fingers to his mouth, tasting your juices and sucking them clean, closing his eyes at the taste. He replaces fingers back on your cunt, stroking it lightly and nipping your neck again.Â
âYou taste so fucking good, Luna. So sweet,â he says, coming out as a low growl.Â
Without warning, he pushes two fingers in, not letting you warm up with a single one first. He curls them against your walls and youâre so drunk you forget youâre in public, letting out a moan thatâs just a bit too loud.Â
âShh,â he whispers against your neck and you try your best to keep quietâŚ
Until you hear a stern âHEY!â causing you to gasp.Â
He pulls his fingers from you quickly and you both look to your right to see a police officer with a flashlight, pointed directly at you. The officerâs eyes trail down to your skirt and then back up to your neck; to the marks on your neck. He sighs.Â
âReally guys? Trying to fuck in an alley like a couple of teenagers?â
You stand up straight and smooth your skirt down, unsure of what to do next.Â
He sighs again and says, âGet outta here before I arrest you for public indecency! Damn festival goersâŚâ
You blink a few times, in disbelief that heâs letting you go. But Joel grabs your hand and leads you out of the alley, with you holding your breath the whole time. The cop mutters something about how he thought he caught a drug deal as you walk past him. When you hit the sidewalk you exhale, letting the tension leave you. As for Joel he starts hysterically laughing, a stark contrast to the embarrassment youâre feeling.Â
He notices the look on your face and asks, âWhat? You didnât think that was funny?â while trying to hold back more laughter.Â
âNot really!â you say, lightly slapping him on the arm.Â
âAw come on, Luna. He just blamed it on the festival and let us off with a warning. It couldâve been a lot worse but it wasnât!â he reassures you.Â
âI guess youâre right,â you sigh.Â
Your phone vibrates in your bag so you pull it out. Your friends are texting you, asking you when youâll be back. The time on the screen says two in the morning but how is that even possible? Joel met you at eight and you only went to one bar, only had three rounds of drinks and you didnât go all the way in the alley just now. Chalking it up to being drunk and losing track of time, you put your phone back in your bag and say to Joel, âI think I should get back to my friends.â
âOf course,â he says, âIâll take you back now.â
The walk back to your hotel is somewhat quiet. The festival goers on the streets are mostly cleared up by now. You assume the quietness is due to the embarrassment from earlier and you wonder if Joel is mad at you for getting worked up. You shake your head and try to put that thought out of your mind, still trying to salvage what you have with him, if anything at all.Â
âI had a lot of fun tonight,â you start just as you turn onto the block your hotel is located on, âAnd Iâm excited to see you tomorrow at the Mothman stakeout.â
âMe, too, Luna,â he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, âTrust me, weâll have lots of fun tomorrow night.âÂ
You stop at the entrance to your hotel and begin to part ways. He pulls you in for a kiss and wishes you goodnight. But before he leaves he exchanges phone numbers with you, just in case itâs hard to find each other at the stakeout tomorrow night. You type your name into his phone followed by a butterfly emoji. He chuckles when he sees it, saying, âSee you tomorrow, Luna.â And with that, he turns and walks down the street, disappearing into the night.Â
Heading back up to the room, you replay the nightâs events, trying to get a read on Joel and determine your feelings for him. You decide that youâre definitely interested in him⌠but you need to know more. Upon entering the door, Tara and Janelle are standing within just a few feet of the entrance, side by side and arms folded.Â
âWhat?â you ask, reading the expression on their faces.Â
âAn update wouldâve been nice,â Tara says.Â
âI lost track of time!â you reply.Â
âI get that but you were with some mystery man you just met today. You donât know his intentions!â Janelle adds.Â
âYouâre right,â you sigh, âNothing crazy happened. I just forgot to look at my phone.â
âWeâre just glad that youâre okay! âŚAnd that we can finally go to bed now,â Tara says, yawning and moving over to the bed.Â
âSorry to keep you guys up! But thanks for being concerned for me. Iâm just gonna be in the bathroom,â you say.Â
They nod and get into bed, while you go to the bathroom to inspect the marks on your neck under better lighting. And sure enough, thereâs several marks and there they are but thereâs also⌠a gold film? Perhaps sheen is the right word? Whatever is it thereâs flecks of gold peppered along the hickeys. Maybe itâs something from the bar? Thatâs the most logical explanation you can think of. You complete your nighttime routine and head off to bed, head filled with dreams of Joel, filling in the gaps of information about him.Â
-
The next day is a blur, a myriad of events strewn together haphazardly. Your friends can tell youâre in a sort of daze; you can tell by the way they look at you, but they choose to say nothing. First, you went back to The Coffee Grinder because after your late night, you desperately need caffeine. After that, you hit up the Mothman Museum, taking advantage of some special exhibits and talks for the festival. And finally, itâs time to get ready for what youâre most excited for; the group Mothman stakeout at the McClintic Wildlife Area. But you havenât heard from Joel at all throughout the day. And youâre starting to worry. Maybe he doesnât actually like you, maybe he decided that after you guys got caught in the alley you werenât worth his time. But he did say he was going tonight and you hope he keeps his word.Â
You head to the hotel to change, opting for another one of your stupid fucking t-shirts, leggings and a pair of sneakers. This time your t-shirt reads; âMothman is real and he sells me weed in the Waffle House parking lotâ because why wouldnât it?Â
You pack up your camping supplies; a sleeping bag, a backpack, some snacks along with a bear canister to store them in, a canteen full of water, and a lighter.Â
The sun is just starting to set now and itâs about time to go. Before you leave the hotel you decide to text Joel:Â
Hey, will I see you tonight?
You wait with bated breath for a response. And to your surprise it comes rather quickly.Â
Of course, Luna. Wouldnât miss it for the worldđŚ
You exhale, feeling a little bit better about things between you two and head out with your friends. You drive to the McClintic Wildlife Area and park your car in the parking lot, which is decently full. But that was to be expected. Whatâs the point of coming to the Mothman Festival if youâre not going to try and catch a glimpse of the real thing?
You grab your stuff from the trunk of your car and set off into the forest, following the other Mothman enthusiasts until you reach a clearing where others have already set out their sleeping bags. In the middle of the ring of sleeping bags thereâs a fire going, surrounded by people already drinking and socializing. Tara and Janelle spot two guys sitting by the fire and decide to head over to them. You canât blame them, you did leave them all night last night. So you set up your sleeping bag where thereâs a free spot, sit down, and wait for Joel.Â
And⌠nothing. The sun sets and you havenât heard from him. Tara and Janelle make eye contact with you periodically, shooting you looks that are supposed to ask, âAre you okay?â and you nod back to them, not wanting to ruin their fun. You lay down and look at the stars above you, just about to accept the fact that Joel stood you up when all of a sudden you feel your phone vibrate next to you.Â
You hold up your phone in front of your face and to your surprise itâs a text from Joel reading:
Hey, I just found the most convincing piece of Mothman evidence ever. Come look.Â
You sit up and look around, confusion on your face. Heâs nowhere to be found.Â
You type out:Â
I donât see you. Where are you?
He replies:Â
Look behind you.
You turn around and look at the line of trees behind you and yet again⌠nowhere to be found.Â
You go to type a response back but he beats you to it, saying:
I can see you. I donât want to leave the evidence behind⌠Just come to the trees, Luna.
You sigh and get up, making sure to take your phone with you. Tara makes eye contact with you so you pretend youâre taking a phone call, pointing to your phone and putting it by your ear. She nods and you turn to walk towards the tree line, a nervous pit forming in your stomach. This is such a bad idea. Itâs such a typical stupid girl in a horror movie trope and yet here you are, walking into a dark forest to meet a man you just met yesterday.Â
You reach the trees and take a deep breath before walking into the woods, turning on your phoneâs flashlight. You call out Joelâs name and donât hear anything. Rolling your eyes, you call him on your phone, getting a little fed up now. He doesnât pick up but you hear a ringtone in the distance. You groan and follow the sound, because if you can hear Joelâs phone but not Joel⌠whoâs to say that Mothman is actually real and he got Joel?Â
You find his phone resting on a fallen tree, the screen lit up with Incoming Call followed by your name. You pick up the phone and look around, shining the flashlight out in front of you.Â
You smell something in the air⌠something fruity⌠almost like apple cider⌠with a hint of citrus? A golden mist hangs in the air, permeating the area around you and filling your senses. Whateverâs around you smells good and inviting. Without thinking, you take a deep breath, letting the smell and the mist calm you down. A warmth brews between your legs and your skin feels hot, at first itâs comforting⌠But soon enough it becomes unbearable. Sweat beads up on your forehead and the warmth between your legs grows stronger. A presence behind you is apparent; itâs daunting. Something tells you to turn around and when you do, you canât believe your eyes.Â
Towering above you is Mothman himself. Youâre met with glowing red eyes, a muscular stature, large wings fanning out behind him, and threatening claws. Heâs tall, anywhere from seven to eight feet tall, his monstrous eyes practically burning a hole into you. You should be terrified right now, running for your life back to your friends. Or at the very least taking some pictures. Instead youâre frozen, not in fear⌠but in desire. The warmth that was brewing between your legs is unignorable.Â
âJoel?â you call out in a small voice.Â
The creature takes a step towards you almost as if it can understand. Your skin feels like itâs burning, like if someone were to touch you the heat of your skin would also burn them. Itâs like torture, one of the most agonizing sensations youâve ever felt. Without even thinking you drop your phone and his, pulling off your shirt over your head, and instantly feeling some relief, but itâs not enough. You kick off your shoes, sliding your pants down your legs, followed by your underwear. The cool forest air hits your skin, perking up your nipples and providing you with seconds of relief, but itâs still not enough. The creatureâs eyes scan your features, training up and down your naked form.
The air moves around you, and so does the gold mist. Right before your eyes the creature shapeshifts, losing its wings and claws, returning to a normal human height, turning⌠into Joel? And yet even still he keeps the unmistakable glowing red eyes. He looks at you with a devilish grin, stepping closer towards you. Heâs completely naked, body shimmering under the pale moonlight and the flashlight on the forest floor beneath him.Â
âSo once again, Luna, are you a dirty girl?â
âY-yes,â you stutter out, your body practically calling out for him.Â
He grabs you by the waist and pushes you down so youâre lying against a flat rock behind you. The coolness of the rock is a stark contrast against the heat radiating off of your body. Joel spreads your legs apart forcefully, marveling at your cunt and how itâs already dripping for him. His red eyes flash back up at you, taking note of the desperate look in your eye before feasting on your cunt. He licks your cunt in a way that can only be described as animalistic, flicking his tongue across your clit and lapping at your entrance. You writhe against the rock and Joel has to hook his arms around your thighs to keep you steady; to keep your cunt directly on his mouth. The tension in your core builds as he continues to eat you out, tongue swirling around your sex as he drinks in your juices. With one last flick of his tongue you cum against him, one of the wettest and longest orgasms youâve ever had. The movement of your hips slows down as you come down from your high but alas⌠barely any relief.Â
Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you let out a soft whimper. His glowing eyes meet yours and he asks, âStill not enough, huh Luna?â
âNo. No, itâs not. Please, Joel, I need more.â
He lets out a dark chuckle, bringing his fingers to your cunt and stroking it lightly, gathering your wetness on his large hand and rubbing it between his fingers. He pushes two fingers inside you, knowing youâre well past needing to warm up with one first. He curls them against your walls, letting his fingers get absolutely soaked. He brings his thumb to your clit, rubbing small, fast circles around it while his fingers inside you push against your g-spot. In no time youâre coming again, your cunt fluttering around his fingers rhythmically. Your release soaks his hand all the way down to his wrist and he leaves his fingers inside you, just feeling your cunt clench and relax around him. Your body feels euphoric, tingling sensations coursing through your limbs but still⌠itâs not enough.Â
âHow you feelinâ, Luna?â
âI still⌠I still need more,â you whine.Â
âBeg,â he says, hovering over you, red eyes staring directly into yours.Â
âJoel, please. I need it,â you beg.
âHow bad?â
âSo fucking bad,â you whine, sounding completely delirious.Â
âI suppose,â he teases, spreading your wetness onto his already hard cock, whose size is intimidatingâŚ
He pushes into you in one swift motion, hooking his muscular arms around your thighs and leaning forward, folding you in half. Youâre face to face with him now, his non-human eyes locked onto yours. His cock stretches your walls, hitting the deepest angles inside you as he fucks you relentlessly; completely feral. You look up at him with the tree covered moon above him, completely in awe of whatâs happening to you. You swear his face flashes from his human form to his Mothman form, but only for a split second. He brings his mouth to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin even harder than the night before, surely enough to leave darker marks and more gold film. With one last slam of his hips youâre coming on his cock, your cunt convulsing erratically. He fucks you through it, making it last even longer. Your own release pulls his own from him, and itâs powerful. You feel his warm cum spilling inside you, strong and like itâs never ending. Youâre silently grateful youâre on birth control even though you donât know what the effects Mothman cum will have on you. Eventually your orgasm ebbs and flows as it winds down and Joel slowly comes to a halt. He stays inside you for a moment, keeping his eyes locked on you.Â
âI bet now youâre good. Completely spent, ainât that right, Luna?â
âMhm,â you say, still a little breathless.Â
Eventually he goes soft and his eyes shift back into their usual warm brown shade. He pulls out and lies down next to you. You roll over and rest against him, his own body burning up just like yours. Youâre too exhausted to even question what just happened, letting sleep quickly overtake you.Â
-
You wake up the next morning alone, the sunlight peeking through the tree cover. You sit up and rub your eyes, looking around you for any sign of Joel. But heâs gone.Â
You try to remember last night but itâs all foggy, like itâs a distant memory already. You vaguely remember the fruity scent and the gold mist in the air. You look down at your skin and thereâs still traces of it there but not much. You pull on your clothes and grab your phone, looking at the time before rushing to get back to Tara and Janelle. They must be worried sick about you. You power walk back to the group, just trying to get there quickly but also not so panicked that theyâll think something is wrong. From what you can tell, youâre fine. Just a little dazed with a soreness in your core and a stickiness running down your legs.Â
Youâre back in the clearing and coming up on the collection of sleeping bags. Tara and Janelle spot you and wave, completely cheery with wide smiles. Not the response you were expecting.Â
âSorry, I didnât think Iâd be gone that long,â you say, stopping in front of their sleeping bags.Â
âDonât be! Looks like you got lucky, too,â Tara says with a wink, looking at your disheveled state.Â
âDid you guys-â
âMhm,â Janelle says, âWith those guys you saw us talking with. Did you end up finding Joel?â
âYou bet I did. But didnât spot any signs of Mothman?â you ask. Â
They both shake their heads no and you sigh.Â
âGuess thereâs always next year,â you say, bending down to pack up your stuff; stuff that you didnât even end up using.Â
You walk back to your car after youâre all packed, feeling your phone vibrate in your bag.Â
You pull it out to find a text from Joel reading:
Until next time, LunađŚ
Looks like the Mothman Festival will be an annual tradition.Â
Part two
End note: Hope y'all liked that!!
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