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murdockjonescagerand · 7 months

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Midnight Snack.

3.4k slasher!Joel x f!reader

slasher Joel master list | spotify slaylist SUMMARY: Joel has dinner at his Mom’s house, then pays you a visit. A/N: Shoutout to @iamasaddie for the master list mood board magnets, @gasolinerainbowpuddles for the.edit, fridge magnet anon ask, @thesummerpetrichor , anyone I'm forgetting? WARNINGS: I8+ dubcon unsafe p in v, creampie, light somnophilia, choking, degradation, home intrusion, manual restraint, spitting, toxic parental issues, angst/insecurity, changes POV, NO Y/N.

. . .you’re just lying there, staring up at him, your chest getting sore under his arm. “What are you doing here?” you ask. .He doesn’t answer, just breathes heavily. He’s scowling down at you with a fine mist of perspiration along his hairline. . . Over a long moment of silence, a charge passes between your eyes and his. He tilts his head, wets his lips, and looks at your mouth. You reach for the back of his neck and feel the cold sweat under your palm. . .

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midnight snack

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“I said I’m good, Ma,” Joel grumbles as his mom puts another heaping spatula of casserole on his plate anyway. He sighs and pushes it around with his fork.

“What’s got ya down, hun?”

“Nothin’.”

“It’s a girl, ain’t it?” She smiles. “Knew it. Last time you were here, ya had that glow," she nods, then registers his sullen face again. "It's okay, hun. Whatever it is, you'll work it out.".

He hasn't stopped thinking about you since he was there. When he drives, when he showers, when he goes to bed, when he jacks off—he sees the desire in your eyes when you’re pinned against the counter. He sees your dripping hole stretched around his fist. He thinks about you every time he uses his wrench. Still smells like your filthy cunt.

"Tell me 'bout her,” his mom urges.

“Can't,” Joel mumbles. “Don’t got a girl.”

His mom looks at him knowingly. She always sees right through him. He doesn’t like how close they are, but in a way, she’s his only friend. He fails to suppress a little smile, then looks down shyly at his plate and finally takes a bite.

She asks, “How’d ya meet?”

Joel gives her a half-serious cautionary look and keeps chewing.

“Work?” his mom prods.

Joel swallows, nods, and takes a sip of milk. “Gave'r a ride.” Two rides, really. Although you took the second one all on your own. And damn, it was good. He shifts in his seat.

“Well, great,” his mom lights up. “When ya gonna see her again?” She dabs her mouth with a cloth napkin and stands up.

“I dunno, Ma. . .She’s too good for me.”

She huffs, adjusts her glasses, then walks over. She playfully whips him on the shoulder with the fabric napkin, then puts her finger in his face. “Don’t you ever say that. No one’s too good for my boy.” She takes his glass to the kitchen and pours him some more milk, then sits back down at the table.

“already left me once,” Joel grumbles.

His Mom’s face falls, then sours.

“Then she’s not worth your time." She scoffs. Or anyone else’s."

“She’s different, Ma," he mutters deadpan, then quieter, he adds, "Sometimes I think she likes me," with the slightest lift of his brow.

Mrs. Miller's eyebrows shoot all the way up. "Well, she should!"

"'mixed signals." He’s saying too much, but he can’t stop. It’s not like he has anyone else to talk to.

"Bring'er for dinner," she suggests.

"Ain't like that," he sulks. "We don't-" He cuts himself off and sighs, sitting back in his chair. He puts his napkin on his plate. "Shouldn't'a mentioned it," he mumbles.

His mom reaches across the table for his hand, and he gives it to her. He looks at the delicate, paper-thin skin covering the veins on her hand. It makes him sad. He wants to bring a girl home. He wants to make his Mom happy. He doesn't come by enough. She must be so lonely. And he's the one who. . .no, his father deserved it, he reminds himself for the millionth time in his life. He didn’t love them, his mom said. Resentment begins to overtake his guilt. He doesn’t want to feel sorry for her. He steels himself and decides to feel nothing.

"Look at me, Joel." She looks him in the eye. "You're not gonna get a wife like this, honey." Joel swallows and looks down. She continues, "Don't be a quitter. She's yours if you want her." Don’t be a quitter.

The buzzer for the laundry goes off. Mrs. Miller starts to head to the laundry room, but Joel stops her. "Feel like a loser when ya do my laundry."

She shakes her head in disapproval and starts clearing the table instead. "My son. . .” she picks up both their plates. ". . .Is not a loser."

Joel finishes his laundry, watches some tv with her while she knits, then pulls himself away. His Mom sends him on his way with an old tupperware of casserole. "Go get her," she tells him with a wink.

—-

He wants to make a move. He wants to fuck you again, but he isn’t sure how. How do people do it? He doesn't know how to ask you out, or what you'd do together. Every time he thinks about it, he feels stupid, but he does wanna see you. He wants to be inside you. He wants to make you purr, little sex kitten.

At this hour, you’re probably out whoring, but he might as well drive by while he’s close. All your lights are off, but your car is there. Hmm. He can't bring himself to go home. Don’t be a quitter. He sits in his car at the end of your street. Last time he came over, it went pretty well. You wanted him to fuck you, and he did. You wanted more, and he gave you more. Then he left before you could leave him.

He feels like you’re special, but he really only knows a few things about you. Most importantly, you like the danger, you want the thrill, you want his dick, and you sure can take a cock.

The only thing he can think to do is give you more of what he knows you want. Even if you're asleep, you'll be purring for it as soon as he drags you out of bed and pins you on the floor. He pictures a knife at your throat. Not a big one, just his switchblade.

He gets out of his car and adjusts his balls, spreading his feet for a moment. Then he starts walking to your house. After a few seconds, he goes back to his car for the casserole. Maybe you'll have a midnight snack after he stuffs you full of his cock. He rolls his eyes at himself. That’s stupid.

—-

There's a lamp with a dying bulb barely flickering on your back patio with a couple of moths fluttering wildly around it. Joel looks into your dark kitchen and scowls at his reflection in the glass. He holds the Tupperware under his elbow and picks the lock with ease. After stepping into your kitchen, he quietly slides the door shut behind him. His boots thud stickily as he takes his first steps on the linoleum. Do you ever mop? He holds his switchblade open in the air. He’s headed toward the hall where he expects your bedroom is. He inches through the kitchen--between the counter on his left and the stove on his right, until he gets to your fridge.

The surface of the fridge is peppered with magnets--souvenirs, letters of the alphabet, bottle openers. It's silly. But a piece of paper catches his eye and he stops dead in his tracks. It's pinned to the fridge by a "J," and an "X" and an "O." He blinks and squints, but his eyes don't deceive him. It's his drawing of you, legs spread wide open. His chest flutters looking at his sketch of your cunt hung proudly on your fridge. His dick twitches, and he inhales sharply. His mouth is watering. He dips the tip of his thick pinky between his lips and dribbles a string of saliva on the paper, right between your legs. He tilts his head and admires the way your graphite cunt glistens.

You want him. You really want him. His body relaxes. He closes and pockets his switchblade. He opens the fridge as quietly as possible and puts the casserole on the top shelf, pausing to survey the scant contents. Mostly condiments. Takeout containers. Beer. Expired orange juice. He closes the fridge.

The microwave is hanging down from a cabinet to his left. He steps in front of it and bends his knees enough to push back his hair in the reflection. He stands up again, squares his shoulders, then prowls in silence to your bedroom.

---

The door is open. Of course it is. You want him. His boots are quieter on your carpet. He approaches the foot of your bed but doesn't get closer. You're occupying less than half the bed. You're just as pretty in your sleep. All bundled up. He knew that already. He gets harder, recalling the time he woke you up with his cock inside you. God, you're sexy. How'd he get so lucky that a hot little slut like you wants him so bad?

He goes to the other side of your bed. His side. There’s a chair full of dirty clothes. He sits down on them and takes off his boots. He stands up again and lowers the zipper of his jumpsuit, pressing down on his bulge to get the zipper over it without snagging. Then he peels the sleeves off and brings it down over his ass and meaty thighs. He lets it pool at his feet and steps out of it.

He's left wearing a blue soft wash t-shirt, lighter blue striped boxers, and white socks with holes. He takes those socks off too. He approaches your bed, lifts the covers with care, and sees what you're wearing. You're wearing the shirt–he recognizes its condition. God damn, you really do want him.

Joel gradually lets his weight onto your mattress as he slips under the covers. His heart races and his forehead is damp. His cock is so hard just from being close to you. He lies there perfectly still on his side for a moment, watching your back as you breathe. Then he scoots forward, inch by inch, until his leg hair brushes your bare legs and you jerk in your sleep.

"Shhh. It's just me," he whispers as he wraps his hulking arm over you. He spoons you and lightly presses his hard cock against your ass. You moan in your sleep and push back, then he moans.

You jerk in your sleep again, but this time you don't relax. You startle awake. You gasp and whimper. Your limbs thrash, and his arm tightens around you. You squeal, and his massive hand covers your mouth. He wasn't expecting your feisty side, kitten. He came to give you what you want.

Why don’t you want him anymore?

-----you-----

Pure instinct kicks in when you wake up with someone in your bed. Your heart is pounding, you thrash and kick with all your might trying to get away. He covers your mouth and repeats “It’s me, sweetheart. God damn.” He sounds confused and irritated at your reaction. His voice is familiar, but it takes you a moment to place it, despite thinking about him all the time in waking life. It's like your subconscious hasn't caught up with reality, and can you blame it?

"Would you stop? Damn," he pants, getting more irritated as you continue to struggle and his arm tightens more, compressing your chest. What did he expect breaking into your house and getting into your bed?

You feel his hard dick press against your loose sleep shorts and get butterflies in your core, even as you continue struggling. He backs up for a moment and the pull of his arm forces you onto your back. He pins you with his left forearm on your chest and aggressively yanks down your shorts then kicks them all the way off before getting between your legs. His hard cock lays against your clit, separated only by his boxers, and you're throbbing. Your efforts to free yourself get weaker and weaker until you’re just lying there, staring up at him, your chest getting sore under his arm.

“What are you doing here?” you ask. He doesn’t answer, just breathes heavily.

He’s scowling down at you with a fine mist of perspiration along his hairline. He presses his cock against your mound again. Over a long moment of silence, an electric charge passes between your eyes and his. He slightly tilts his head and looks at your mouth. You reach for the back of his neck and feel the cold sweat under your palm as you pull him down, drawing his face to yours.

Your mouths meet but don't seal, and you find your lips reaching for his, wanting something to hold, something to suck–but he devours you without granting you any bit of control. You whimper as he kisses you hungrily, hard cock throbbing against your aching clit. He kisses you sloppily, biting your lower lip, dragging his tongue across it to the corner where he pauses and presses his teeth into your cheek and grunts with a slow thrust against you. Then he drags his lips and tongue down your jaw as you tilt your chin up.

He latches onto your neck with an "mm" and his hips begin to grind his thick erection against you at a slow rhythm. He grunts and his breath is humid with a moan against your neck before he latches onto it again. You feel the delicate skin bruising under his mouth while your pussy is gushing wet. You tilt your hips and wrap a leg around him. He groans at your slick, throbbing cunt against his cock.

He murmurs into your neck, “God damn, you’re a slut for my cock,” then chuckles. “Aren’t ya, kitten?”

He lifts his pelvis off you to massage your cunt aggressively with his hand. You whine and he gives a low whistle. Then he urgently takes his boxers down and you help him, curling a toe into the waistband once his boxers get down to his thighs. You drag your foot down between his legs to his feet, taking his boxers with you. . He kicks them off the rest of the way. Before he lays his hips back into you, you reach for his balls, longing to feel the heft of them. It sends a bolt of desire through you. Fuck.

"What's wrong with you?" You ask, but you're really asking yourself. You’re asking yourself why you've got this sicko in your bed, someone unhinged enough to break into your house not once but twice and all you want is his cock.

"Me?" He asks. "the fuck is wrong with you?" He wraps a hand around your throat. “Playin’ games with me,” he growls bitterly. “Ya want it, ya don't, ya want it–” you cough under his grip as he reads your eyes, then he whispers, "want it" with a small nod, and takes his hand away.

He notches his tip at your entrance then breathes, "don't ya?--uggghh" As he shoves into you. “Want it, you’ll get it,” he pants as his cock parts your walls. His cock spreads you wide open as he gives you his full length, and you gasp as he bottoms out. He withdraws a few inches and hangs his head to watch you swallow him back up.

"God damn," he murmurs. "Forgot how tight ya were before." Your clit twitches at the thought of the wrench.

Then his eyes come to your chest and the ripped shirt he gave you. He moans at the sight of your nipple poking through one of the slashes and he covers it with his mouth as he fucks you. His wide tongue drags under your nipple and wets the curled edges of the slash in the shirt before his lips seal around your nipple. He brings his hips back and pushes into you again, sucking and moaning into your tit. Your eyes fixate on his triceps nearly bursting out of his sleeves and that’s the first time it hits you that he was already in sleepwear. He undressed and got in bed with you. God, he’s weird. And you. You're. . . You don't know, but your hands are gliding on their own over his muscular back, feeling him flex as he pounds you.

You find your fingers curling under the bottom hem of his shirt and he reaches one hand behind his back to help you remove it. You can't see much, but when the angle shifts, the moonlight catches enough to tell you his body has really been through it. When his head dips to your neck again you watch his hulking back muscles and see lines whiter than his skin. At least a dozen, overlapping lashes. You run your hand over it and the slight change in texture makes you wince with the confirmation. No telling how old they are.

On his front, there’s a short straight line near his shoulder and a longer, thinner one on his side, curving around near his v muscle. Your thumb drifts to that one. Joel shivers at the touch, then slams his hips into you harder. You quickly abandon it, sliding your hand up his side, then to his pec. A wicked smile spreads across half his face as your hand runs across his chest. "Y'ain't scared, are ya?" He asks, breathing heavily with his cock dragging heavily in your dripping wet cunt.

“No.” You thumb his nipple.

He lowers himself and lets the weight of his middle onto you with a sigh, still railing his length into you. You wrap both legs around him, and he breathes "yeah, mmmgg baby, yeah" as he fucks you deeper.

Your nipples go fully erect. "Fuck," he breathes when he feels them. He grinds against your clit as he fucks you, and you feel a climax looming. The thought crosses your mind whether he's going to kill you one of these days and your chest erupts in goosebumps. Your face feels cold.

As though reading your mind, he says, “don’t whore around on me” He reads your eyes then adds, "n' you'll be fine," with a small nod, a brief smile, and harsh thrust.

You can't help but crack a smile at the absurdity of it. The implied monogamy–on your side, at least. When he registers your amusement, his smile fades into a scowl and his eyes turn black. He grabs your jaw, squeezes it open, and spits in your mouth. He grabs your hand off his chest and pins both your wrists harshly above you, holding them there with one massive hand as he fucks you harder, angrier. He looks down where your bodies meet, and he watches you take his cock again, breathing heavily, sighing and moaning.

Eventually his sour mood subsides, replaced by renewed marvel at your body. "Sure can take a dick." Your hips lift into him, seeking more pressure for your clit, near the edge. "Didn't bring my wrench." He glances around your bedroom. You moan at the thought of him shoving something inside you. Your walls twitch, and the deep groan that leaves his mouth is too much. You grab his ass and pull him deeper using your hands and your legs.

"Fuck, Joel," you breathe, and a new softness spreads across his face.

His mouth falls open and he whispers, "yeah, sweetheart." You bite your lip and groan as a huge orgasm seizes you. "Yeah," he whispers and his eyes map your face as your walls clench around him. "oh fuck," he pants as you cum on his cock. "Fuck," he breathes again, "fuckin love this cunt," he looks you in the eye. "Ohhhh," he groans and begins to pulse inside you. He lowers his face to your neck again and you keep cumming, your body jerking into his. "Yeah, fuck," he manages into your neck as his balls empty into you. "Mmmmm" he thrusts slowly one more time like he can hardly stand the pleasure.

He pushes himself back up to look at you and shudders as you squeeze him with an aftershock.

"'s'okay," he whispers and brushes your temple with his thumb. “ruin ya in the mornin'” In the morning? He wants to stay over? "God you're hot," he chuckles, cock still inside you. After a long moment of silence, he slides his cock out of you and you wince at the void. He lays on his stomach and drapes his arm over you. Your heart races and you can only hope he doesn’t feel it. You don’t want him in your bed right now. He's a novelty and he has to stay that way. Yeah it was fun, it’s been fun. It’s fun. You have his stupid drawing on your fridge, like a wild memory, a souvenir. But this. . . this is unsettling.

You can't get attached to this sicko. But you know better than to try to make him leave. He gets that look in his eye sometimes, and you just don’t know. You take deep breaths and try to plot how you’ll get out of this in the morning. You can say you have to work. Yeah, you’ll say you have to work. Eventually, you drift off under the weight of his arm.

------

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murdockjonescagerand · 8 months

Text

No One But Me

previous chapter

masterlist

Ellie had spent a solid 15 minutes during dinner detailing the new comic she was in the process of illustrating. Her eyes were bright with excitement as she babbled on and gestured animatedly with her small hands. You listened dutifully, adding comments and asking questions where appropriate, trying to appear sincere in your interest. It was difficult to focus when the anxiety was still churning in her stomach and the welts on your flesh were throbbing.

Seeing Joel in the mess hall had rattled you. The pressure from Ellie, as well as the fact that your thoughts had been so convoluted all day, meant you hadn't even considered the possibility of Joel being there at the same time. The way he had stomped out of the mess hall soon after your arrival made you even more uneasy. You wondered where he was going, what he was thinking. You were too consumed with thoughts of Joel to notice Ellie's eyes narrow on you like a snake watching it's prey.

"What's this?" Ellie suddenly blurted.

She grabbed hold of one of your hands and yanked your blouse sleeve up your arm. You squeaked and pulled away from her but it was too late - Ellie had already seen the faint red rope marks on your wrist. You batted her away gently and she let go of your hand.

"The fuck happened to your wrist?" She frowned, her big eyes flickering from your hand to your face.

"Nothing, El," you lied cooly, tugging your sleeves down to properly cover the marks. "The cuffs on this shirt are a bit too tight, I think."

You would never hurt Ellie by telling her the truth. You cared about her far too much to purposely expose her to Joel's darker side and jeopardise her happiness. Or Joel's.

"Anyway, so the main character of this story is going to be like, really fuckin' smart..." Ellie continued rambling.

She searched your face for a moment, scrutinising your features for some indication of dishonesty. You mirrored her sober glower playfully, then stuck out your tongue. It was an attempt to break the tension and distract her, and it seemed to work. Ellie giggled a little, uncertainty still evident in the crease of her brows, but she let the moment pass without any more dispute. She changed the subject back to her comic idea, fortunately for you.

After another ten minutes, Ellie had only eaten half her plate of vegetables and venison before abandoning you in favour of a party she had been invited to. You didn't mind. Infact, you were relieved. It was the perfect opportunity for you to bolt back home and retreat under the covers of your bed. But just as Ellie was walking out the door, Kate, Rhi and Jess almost collided with her as they came strolling in.

Kate spotted you instantly and called out your name, waving to you enthusiastically. You sighed to yourself and waved back half heartedly. It looks like your plans would have to wait.

******

Joel was dozing on the couch later that evening when there came a succession of loud knocks on his front door. He groaned as he got up, his back stiff and aching, and made his way to the door in a only a few large strides. He thought it must be Ellie coming home early from the party - but deep down he hoped it was you coming over to collapse into his arms and beg for his touch.

When he opened up the door he was greeted by Tommy. Tommy stood on the doorstep with his hands on his hips, his mouth downturned in grim sobriety. His expression made Joel stand to attention instantly.

"Tommy? Whatsa matter?" Joel asked straight away. "Ellie alright?"

"Ellie's fine. But Carl spotted raiders North West of the mountain this evenin'," Tommy explained with calm urgency, his voice low despite no one else being nearby. "We need to get a group out there and scoutin' by day break at the latest."

Raiders were not a common threat but they posed a serious danger to the safety of the community. They usually consisted of groups of more than a dozen men, all of them armed somehow, searching for any place or any people to strip of supplies. With its agricultural vitality, amenities and abundance of resources, Jackson would be a prime target for raiders.

"Fuck," Joel muttered, shifting his eyes up and sighing.

They had to gather some patrolmen and venture outside to find them.

Joel and Tommy knew first hand how ruthless raiders could be. It pissed Joel off to think of a bunch of strangers trying to bust their way into his town, wanting to steal what did not belong to them, thinking they were some big bad gang. Joel would gladly execute them all on the spot.

Joel's eyes flickered back to Tommy, who was staring back at him with a steely resolve that signalled he was ready to hunt and slaughter these assholes right this minute. Joel's jaw ticked.

"Round up Harry and Troy, meet me at the gate at 4o'clock," Joel ordered in a low voice. "Don't tell no one what's goin' on. Only Maria."

He had to do it. He had to go. There was no way he wouldn't. Joel gave his brother a decisive nod, indicating he was prepared to join him.

Joel ran a hand over his face and sighed heavily. There would be a slight change of plans tonight, but it would still work out. He had been on a few of these missions before, special patrols where the more experienced men tracked and hunted groups of raiders and infected and eliminated them. Such operations could take anywhere from a couple of days to a month, depending on the weather conditions and the expanse of area that was being compromised.

Tommy nodded in agreement then spun around on his heel, stalking away from the house and into the darkness of the night.

It was impossible to tell how long Joel would be away for this time. He couldn't risk leaving without seeing you first. He needed to be certain that you wouldn't forget that it was he who took care of you, his hands your heart was cradled in, he who owned you. You were definitely frightened of him right now, so he planned to assuage that fear with something more pleasurable.

Joel glanced at the clock hanging in the loungeroom wall and took note of the time. 9.20pm. There was still time to have a drink and visit you before he had to leave for this expedition.

Joel started up the stairs to begin packing his bag.

******

You pushed the peas and mashed potato around your plate with your fork, only partly paying attention to the conversation happening around you.

You randomly wondered if any of them had been in a situation like yours before, if they too had loved someone who hurt them but were too ashamed to confine in anyone. Probably not, you deduced. They were so much braver and stronger than you. They weren't fucked up like you were.

"Are we having a party at the Bison for Cassie, a big final hurrah before she gets married to one dick for the rest of her life?" Rhi asked, earning a round of giggles from your friends. You were too preoccupied with your thoughts to join in.

Jess snapped her fingers infront of your face. "Hello? We need your input here!"

You jolted upright, accidentally irritating the marks on your backside and briefly wincing from the pain. You looked around at your friends' amused faces. "Yeah, sure, sounds fun."

"You okay?" Kate asked tentatively. She wasn't entirely oblivious to your mood, it seemed.

"Yeah," you replied casually, forcing a tight smile. "Just thinking of Cassie's gift and the design for her glory box."

Rhi clapped her hands together and squealed. "Oh! I forgot to tell you guys! I spoke to Sheila at the haberdashery and she said she has a panel of satin that would be perfect for Cassie's present. It looks alot like her dress, too."

"The wedding is in a month, so we better get working on it," you said confidently.

You made a more conscious effort to engage in the conversation, not wanting any more attention on you.

"How about tomorrow night?" Jess suggested.

You and your friends remained in the dining hall for the next half an hour going over your plans for Cassie's gift and the preparations for her hens night. It ended up being a welcome distraction for you and by the time you all finished dinner and agreed to go hang out at Kate's house, you felt a little less on edge.

******

By the time dusk crept over the town and the specks of stars appeared across the canvas of the evening sky, Oscar knew he was going to have a difficult time falling asleep that night.

His day hadn't been particularly stressful or challenging - infact it had been quite easy going - but from time to time he would wake up with a heaviness in his chest, and today was one of those days.

From this morning up until now, he felt an underlying anxiety inside him, a sorrowful clawing at his heart that he hadn't wanted to acknowledge. Unconsciously he knew why it was there. He had sort of been expecting it. But despite the years of enduring this burden of melancholy, Oscar had never quite gotten used to it.

And so instead of wallowing in his room with only the dark shadows of his memory for company, he decided to go to the Tipsy Bison and have a drink. He rarely drank to get drunk, but just enough to feel something close to happiness, a balm to soothe his unspoken hurt and make him forget for a little while. It helped with the nightmares.

When Oscar stepped out onto the street to begin the walk to the bar, he was struck by how beautiful and clear the night sky was, how the stars twinkled so prettily against the backdrop of black and deep blue. He marvelled at the heavens above him as he walked, welcoming the distraction from the dull ache in his ankle.

It was almost healed now. He would be back to patrolling soon. But right now he was enjoying the library shifts alot. It was different. It was new. And you were there.

The atmosphere of the main street was quiet and lonesome at this time of night. The cool air nipped at the nape of his neck, a timely reminder of the impending change of season, he thought to himself.

Oscar wished he could see you right now. Just to say hello. Ask if you were really alright. You looked sad today at the school and it worried him. Although he hadn't known you for very long, he found himself caring about you quite alot. There was something about you that attracted him. Not necessarily physically - although you were certainly beautiful - but emotionally and intellectually. He enjoyed the way you spoke and described things, how you listened to what he said with genuine interest, how your quiet company relaxed him and soothed the unrest in his heart.

But you were probably busy with your friends. Oscar supposed you must be popular in the community. How could you not be? You probably had a boyfriend, too; but he hadn't been daring enough to ask you about that. It didn't matter, though. He was content to be your friend. He just hoped you wanted his friendship, too.

When Oscar reached the Tipsy Bison he pushed open the saloon style doors and relished the hallmark ambience of the bar rush over him; the twang of the country music coming from the battered jukebox in the corner, the voices of the patrons talking and arguing, the yellowing glow of the lights pouring through the light haze of cigarette smoke. The Tipsy Bison was a little less than half full but was by no means subdued.

Oscar didn't stop to survey his surroundings before approaching the bar and ordering a beer. He took a seat on one of the stools and leaned his elbows on the counter, then ran a hand through his black curls. The anxiety was slowly consuming his thoughts, to the point that he hadn't even realised that Joel was sitting two spaces away from him.

Always vigilant of what was going on around him, Joel had noticed Oscar as soon as he sat down. He watched Oscar through his periphery, noting the defeated sag of his shoulders and the nervous way he raked his hand through his hair. Joel, being no stranger to self hatred and internal conflict, was adept at recognising when someone was struggling with something personal, and he could see something was bothering Oscar. Admittedly, he was curious. Especially now he knew you were working together at the library.

"Somethin' on your mind, Estrada?" Joel asked without turning to face Oscar.

Joel had spent many hours patrolling with Oscar over the last few years and they shared a mutual respect of one another, not a friendship as such but a kind of comradery that only the patrolmen of Jackson shared. While Joel didn't care for cultivating friendships, he was comfortable enough initiating conversation with people when he was interested enough. And right now his interest was piqued.

"Oh, hey Miller," Oscar offered Joel a small grin, then shifted off the stool and onto the next one to sit beside Joel.

His question startled Oscar out of his thoughts, forcing him to straighten his back and look over to Joel.

Joel hummed in response and toyed with the neck of his bottle, his thumb smoothing over the condensation that had formed over the glass. A comfortable minute of silence passed as they both savoured the beer Tommy had spent countless hours crafting and perfecting.

"Just the usual shit," he mumbled before taking a a swig of his beer. He let out a noise of satisfaction after swallowing it. "Goddamn, that hits the spot."

Oscar was a good man. He was friendly, talkative, and well liked by everyone. He didn't indulge in crude jokes or talk about sex, which Joel was grateful for (he fucking hated listening to crass banter almost as much as he hated someone talking unnecessarily). Oscar was never disrespectful towards anyone and he was a responsible patrolman.

But he didn't exude overtly masculine energy. He wasn't argumentative or had a bad temper, like alot of the other guys. He wasn't bloodthirsty or quick to prove his capabilities. To Joel, these traits automatically made Oscar weaker than him. And a little bit of a pussy.

It was because of these attributes that Joel did not perceive Oscar to be much of a threat regarding you. He had believed you when you said there was nothing going on with Oscar. Joel knew you well enough to know you were telling the truth. You were never good at lying, anyway. And you were always so open for him, so willing to please - you were such a good girl.

Joel recognised that a large part of your attraction to him was his own strength, his protective virility complimenting your soft, feminine nature so well. He too found it very appealing. So ofcourse you wouldn't be attracted to Oscar. You needed someone who could take care of you properly, and Joel was that man.

But Joel had to be honest with himself; witnessing the fear in your eyes had aroused him with such an unexpected ferocity that it was all he could think about tonight. Your innocent doe eyes wide with panic as you pleaded and begged, fuck, it filled Joel with a primal desire to devour you completely, body and soul. He couldn't wait to extract that reaction from you again.

But he knew he had to be careful with you. Scare you or hurt you too much and too quickly and you might tell Tommy or Maria on him, get him kicked out of Jackson, make Ellie hate him forever.

"Look like somethin's eatin' ya," Joel said casually, finally turning his head to look directly at Oscar. "Bad dreams again?"

No, Joel had to be a little bit tender, especially now. You'd learnt your lesson after he punished you, solidifying the fact that you only belonged to him. Joel could afford to be gentle right now and coax you back to feeling safe and satisfied with what you two had. Show you how kind and caring he could be if you stayed a good girl. Without the sappy relationship bullshit that your bitch girlfriends no doubt planted in your head.

Joel nodded knowingly. He was no stranger to being startled awake, gasping for air, disturbed by the horrors projected in his mind in nightmares of the past. They still plagued Joel often enough for him to want to get drunk or fuck away his feelings every night. He wondered if Oscar had any secret vices.

Oscar gave a small shrug of his shoulders and sighed. "Most nights. Some are worse than others."

Joel cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck, unable to hide the awkwardness he was feeling.

"Ya got no family here," Joel stated matter of factly. "That's part of your problem. You need somethin' to live for, needa have some roots."

Oscar chewed his bottom lip, listening reverently to what Joel was saying. Joel was uncomfortable speaking so candidly but it was necessary. He needed to in order to gain some insight into Oscar's intentions.

"Me...I got my kid and my brother," Joel said with an offhanded shrug. He sounded gruff but earnest. "They keep me goin'."

Oscar was silent. Joel glanced back up at him.

"You been in Jackson a while now. You got yourself a woman?" Joel asked, trying to come across as casual rather than inquisitive.

Oscar looked down and gave a tight shake of his head, then took a long chug of his beer. Joel raised an eyebrow.

"Nothin'? No girlfriend?"

"Nah, man." Oscar wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Joel looked over both of his shoulders before lowering his voice into a hushed hiss. "Not even just a once in a while fuck?"

Joel's nostrils flared as he inhaled, a mixture of relief and pride surging inside his chest. He knew you were telling the truth. Now Oscar just confirmed it. There's no way you would go behind his back. Especially not with this pussy Estrada.

Oscar barked a short laugh. "No, definitely not."

Joel hid the smug satisfaction threatening to spill across his face. Instead, he scratched the side of his face nonchalantly. "Fuck it, women ain't nothin' but trouble anyways."

Oscar exhaled a partly suppressed chuckle. Joel finished the last mouthful of his drink and set the bottle down on the countertop with a thud.

"Gotta good way to get rid of those bad dreams, ya know," Joel smirked at him.

"Yeah?" Oscar gave him a curious half smile in return. "What's your remedy, Miller?

"Let's get you hammered," Joel grinned wolfishly. "Won't be thinkin' too much about anythin' then."

Oscar chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, Miller, I don't think--"

"Hey Clyde!" Joel cut off Oscar to call out to the bartender down the other end of the bar. "Another couple of beers and some shots of whiskey this way."

Joel smacked his hand over Oscar's shoulder in a brotherly gesture of affection.

"Trust me, you'll be feelin' alot better after this."

"Okay okay, just a couple more," Oscar acquiesced genially. "Thanks, Miller."

This is too fuckin' easy, Joel thought.

"Anytime, buddy."

******

Kate had walked you back to your cottage after dinnertime and stayed for an hour curled up on your couch drinking a cup of herbal tea. When she left you tried to read through the book Oscar had given you and create notes for upcoming lessons for your class, but you were so tired that you fell asleep in bed by 10pm.

It was sometime after midnight when you sensed the dip of the mattress under your body and then the warm caresses underneath your tank top.

"Joel?" You murmured groggily, your voice thick with sleep.

The scruff of his beard tickled your face as he peppered warm kisses over you cheeks. His rough hand roamed over your body with greedy hunger, only stopping to squeeze your breasts and the soft skin of your stomach. Your brows creased as you began to rouse from slumber. Even through the drowsy haze of sleepiness you could still identify the familiarity of Joel's touch and scent.

"Yeah, babygirl, it's me," Joel whispered.

He gave you a sloppy wet kiss on your mouth, pushing his tongue past your lips. Your body was unmoving underneath his touch, still heavy with the sedative remnants of sleep. It took some time for your muddled brain to fully register the taste and smell of alcohol that enveloped your senses.

He has been drinking. Possibly drunk. And now he is in your bedroom, on-top of you.

The realisation made your body snap to attention with panic. Your eyes fluttered open and you brought your hands up to press against his chest and break away from his plush, hungry lips. Joel relented and pulled back, bracing himself on one hand above your head.

How the fuck did he get in?

You could feel the heat of his erection pressing against your thigh and you exhaled a small gasp when you realised his lower half was naked.

"What-you," you mumbled, "what're you doing?"

You shrunk back into your pillow and dared to stare up at his face to try gauge his mood. Joel's gaze met yours, his pupils blown wide with desire, the curls of his hair dishevelled as if he had been running his hands through them. There was no cruelty in his expression this time, no anger. It was such a huge contrast to his demeanour the last time he was in your bedroom and it made you feel even more disorientated.

And fuck, he looked so sexy.

"It's jus' me, baby," he whispered, his voice soft and slurred with lust. "Needed to see you."

"Joel," you whispered breathlessly, your eyes still locked.

His fingers dipped underneath the band of your sleep shorts and a lustful groan rumbled in his throat when he cupped your naked sex. You shifted your hips slightly and Joel moved his hand further down, his fingertips gliding across your lips. He found your entrance and slowly pushed one of his thick digits inside your pussy. You moaned softly at the intrusion and involuntarily parted your legs when his whole finger slid inside.

He lowered his face and kissed you once again and this time you allowed him to, accepting his tongue to roll lazily into your mouth. His thumb pressed against your clit gently and began to move to in slow circles as his finger slid out of your pussy, then back in again. Joel continued fingering you and your body slowly began responding to his touch, your pussy becoming wet with arousal. He pushed his finger all the way inside you and curled it against your g spot. The intense pleasure made your eyes roll back and pull yourself away from his lips.

"Pussy missed me, ain't that right, sugar?" Joel purred.

"Fuck," you panted, "J-Joel."

It felt so fucking good.

"So wet," Joel groaned. "See how your body wants me, babydoll?"

He was right. Your body was betraying you - your dignity, your honour. You shouldn't want this, not with Joel. Not after how he treated you these past few months, and definitely not after what he did to you with his belt.

Fuck fuck fuck, what if he is back to hurt you again?

"Joel, no," your voice cracked. "You hurt me. I don't want to do this."

You reached down and grabbed onto his thick wrist with your small hand.

Joel nuzzled his nose against your cheek tenderly then licked at the corner of your mouth. You couldn't help but let out a tiny moan.

"Ssssh," he cooed. "I ain't here to hurt you, darlin'. I wanna make you feel good. Lemme show you that I care about ya."

Why was he acting so different? Why was he being so tender now? Did he really want to show you that he cared?

The logical, rational part of your brain was being overruled by the naive softness of your heart and the yearning between your legs. Some small part of you knew that you should be wary and not trust Joel at all. But it was hopeless - you loved him. Still.

Your hand unwrapped from his wrist. A silent sign of permission. Joel removed his same hand from inside your shorts. Despite yourself, you whined at the loss of his touch at your core.

Joel sat back on his splayed knees inbetween your legs, the upper half of his body still covered by his flannel shirt. You bit your bottom lip and watched him, nervous to be so vulnerable underneath him yet excited, the arousal in your belly growing. He looked so broad and powerful.

While gazing down at you Joel began unbuttoning the buttons of his flannel with enticing dexterity. In only a few seconds he had stripped it from himself and discarded it on the floor. You drank in the sight of him naked, his bare torso dotted with scars, the muscles of his biceps flexing, how his thick cock bobbed up against his soft stomach. Saliva was pooling on-top of your tongue inside your mouth.

Joel took hold of the bottom of your shorts and tugged them down your legs. You hissed at the sting when it passed over your ass, but Joel didn't seem to notice. He slipped the shorts down your legs and threw them to the floor. You were now naked except for the thin tank top you fell asleep in.

"Pull your legs up," Joel rasped. "Wanna see that sweet pussy spread open for me. Come on, honey, show me."

He wrapped a hand around his cock and watched you obediently bend your knees and reach down to part your lips with your fingers, exposing your sensitive flesh and your hole to him. You lifted your head up off the pillow to see Joel groan and stroke his dick.

"So fuckin' pretty," he murmured. "Just waitin' for me to fuck her." His eyes flickered up to your face. "That what you want? You want me to fuck you, babydoll?"

"Yes, Joel. Please." You practically moaned.

You couldn't disguise the thrill of desire pulsing all over your body. You were mesmerised by every inch of the man infront of you, any hint of apprehension or fear having vanished now Joel was naked inbetween your legs.

Your fingers remained still as he leaned over you and spat out a warm wad of saliva onto your pussy. Joel watched intently as it slid down to your hole. You felt yourself fluttering at the sensation. Joel planted one hand on the mattress near your head to brace himself and hovered over you; his other hand notched himself at your entrance.

Joel smirked, satisfied with your willingness to submit. "Keep that pussy spread for me, sugar."

You held your breath in anticipation. Then Joel pushed himself into your tight wet heat.

"Oh my god, Joel," you breathed.

The initial stretch from the head of his dick entering you was uncomfortable and overwhelming. But Joel was mindful tonight. He slowly sheathed himself completely inside and allowed a few moments for your body to adjust to the feeling of fullness. A long soft moan escaped your lips.

His eyes were downcast, transfixed, while he rocked his hips back to slide his cock out half way, then forward to move back inside you. He did so again and again, creating a slow and steady rhythm of fucking you.

"Feels so fuckin' good, babydoll," Joel groaned.

Your hands travelled up to skim over his biceps, fingertips dancing over his muscles. Joel may have been considerably older than you but his stamina and might were impressive regardless of age. You were in awe of just how powerful his body was, how gorgeous his face was.

You wrapped your legs around his waist as his fat cock parted your insides so deliciously. It felt so natural to be underneath him again. You dug your nails into his shoulders and moaned softly with each thrust.

"That's it," Joel growled lowly, voice gravelly with passion. "There's my good girl."

He fucked you with a slow, hard momentum that made your stomach muscles contract and your inner thighs quiver. You could feel the stretch from his veiny thickness in each punch of his cock. Your body and mind were totally intoxicated by the carnal bliss Joel was enrapturing you with.

His actions were passionate but not at all rough. In fact he was being so gentle tonight, almost loving. Was this what making love is?

Joel was breathing heavily above you, his mouth slack, his eyebrows knitted in intense pleasure. Joel's hand snaked down and started rubbing your clit with two thick fingers without disrupting the pace of his hips snapping into yours. The stimulation added a whole new level of intensity. You shut your eyes tightly.

You no longer felt the sharp burn of the bruised welts on your ass as your body was being pushed into the mattress. You did not feel the tenderness on your red wrists, or the confused sadness of your heartbeat. You only felt Joel.

"Oh fuck yes, Joel," you groaned loudly without inhibition.

"Ya like that?" Joel panted. "Whose this sweet pussy belong to, baby? Whose your daddy?"

He stared down at you as he continued massaging your clit in steady circles. He angled his pelvis in a way that allowed his dick to tap into your g spot, that sweet part of your plush insides that he knew drove you crazy.

You dug your nails into the skin of his shoulders and tilted your head back, a guttural moan rising from your throat. Your head was swimming, unable to formulate a thought or a verbalise an answer except for his name.

Joel's movements stilled as he shifted to sit upright on his knees. You whined and opened your eyes. He was watching you, his eyebrows raised.

"P-please," you whispered weakly. "Dont stop."

"Ya didn't answer me," he muttered.

You were too distracted to perceive the underlying hint of danger and annoyance in his words. His cock was resting thick and heavy inside you. It was tortuous. You tried to grind yourself against him, desperate for friction to relieve the tension built deep in your core.

"Joooel," you whimpered. "I'm sorry, you just feel so good, so amazing, please, please keep going "

Joel wrapped a hand around your throat and squeezed lightly, causing your pussy to clench around him.

"I'm gonna ask you again," he drawled calmly. He rocked his hips back and forth once teasingly. "Who owns this fuckin' pussy?"

"You do, Joel," you moaned, arching your back.

"Whose your fuckin' daddy?" Joel snarled, flexing his hand on your throat, a telltale gesture that he was holding back and close to snapping.

"You," you mewled pathetically, running your hands over his chest with fervor. "it's you, Joel."

He suddenly thrust all the way into you until his hips were flush against yours, his pubic bone slamming into yours. You cried out in shock. You were totally full of his girth with his heavy balls resting against your ass. The stretch at the opening of your vagina was actually painful. You could feel yourself tearing slightly.

"Ow, fuck, fuck! Joel," you whimpered, pressing your palms into his chest reflexively. "No, it's t-too much, too deep."

"Babygirl, this is my pussy and I'll go as deep as I fuckin' like," Joel growled. "So you're gonna shut the fuck up and take it."

The hand around your neck squeezed down, cutting off your air supply. Your mouth fell open in a silent cry, your eyes wide, your hands now limp by your sides. Joel started moving once again and was soon fucking you in deep, fast thrusts that hit your g spot each time, the action punctuated by Joel's heavy panting and the sound of the bed frame knocking against the wall.

Your mind was starting to go fuzzy, your vision blurry. The fiery pressure in your belly was growing and when Joel swiped the rough pad of his thumb over your clit your muscles squeezed around his shaft.

"You're gonna come on my cock," Joel ordered through ragged breaths. "And you're gonna thank me for it. You hear me, little slut?"

He relinquished his hold on your throat and you choked as your body gasped in a rush of air. You moaned and your eyelids fluttered when he then gave your cheek a few light rapid slaps.

"Gonna thank me for splittin' you open," Joel murmured, the drawl of his accent low and rich, pouring over your ears like thick honey. "For givin' this needy pussy what she's been beggin' for."

All you could do was moan as Joel relentlessly pummeled his cock into you, his thumb still rubbing your clit. It didn't take much longer for your orgasm to hit. The feverish climax flooded over your entire body and left you whimpering breathlessly and without any energy to move. Joel fucked you through your orgasm and allowed you a minute to recover before he ripped away from your body. You cried out from the sudden withdrawal.

Joel crawled up the bed so that he was straddling your torso. He grabbed a handful of your hair and lifted your head up from the pillow so that the fat head of his cock was directly infront of you, close to touching your lips.

"Thank me," he growled.

Joel began to pump his cock with his other hand. His dark hooded eyes narrowed on you. You licked your lips and stared back up at Joel. You felt the familiar desperate need to please him, to hear his praise reign over you.

"Thank you Joel," you purred. "Thank you for letting me come."

Joel groaned. His grip on your hair tightened. "Keep goin'."

"Thank you for splitting me open."

He fisted his cock faster, his hips rocking slightly as he chased his pleasure. You batted your eyelashes and moaned softly.

"Thank you for fucking my needy pussy."

Joel growled through heaving breaths as he came, thick ropes of cum shooting onto your face. You shut your eyes while his hand tangled in your hair held you still while. He continued to pump his cock and empty his load all over you.

"That's right," he panted, "take it. Good fucking girl."

When Joel had finished he let go of your hair and shifted to stand up from the bed. You blindly lifted the bottom of your tank top and gingerly wiped his cum from around your eyes, then the rest of your face. When you were able to open your eyes again you saw Joel already getting dressed.

Your heart sank. Was he really just going to leave straight away?

Joel looked at you as he hitched his jeans up.

"Raiders been spotted near Jackson. We got to get a patrol group out there tonight."

You felt your heart crack. He just fucked you and now he is going away?

You couldn't help the tears pooling in your eyes. "You're going?" You asked in a small voice.

Joel looked away from you as he zipped and buttoned his jeans. To your relief he wasn't wearing a belt.

"I gotta," he replied gruffly. "Don't know how long I'll be."

"Joel," you whispered.

You bowed your head and cried. You knew how dangerous this kind of mission was and despite the hurt you had endured at his hands, the possibility of him being injured or dying was devastating. You felt the warmth of his large hand stroke your head gently.

"Comin' back for you, sugar. Be good for me while I'm gone, ya hear me?"

"Yes Joel," you croaked.

Joel pressed your face into his naked belly, your cheeks still sticky from his cum. You wrapped your arms around his middle and sobbed. He allowed you to cry, smoothing your hair in soothing strokes until you calmed down.

******

Joel had stayed just long enough for you to fall asleep cuddled into the crook of his arm. Your features were slightly strained as you slept, as if your worry and sadness of real life had seeped into your dreams. Your cheeks were still stained with a mixture of dried tears and his cum. Joel checked his watch. It wasn't long now. He managed to extract himself from the bed without waking you and finished getting dressed. He watched you silently for a few moments before leaving to find Ellie.

However, neither of you could have foreseen the significance of events that were to develop during Joel's absence, nor the catastrophic repercussions of his return.

Joel knew your body craved him just as much as your heart did. You were so easy to placate. Now he could go with Tommy and hunt down those piece of shit raiders without needing to worry about you getting stupid ideas in your head.

What did you all think of this chapter? How do we feel about Joel? How about our main character?

Things are going to ramp up in the next installment.

taglist - @sofiparallel @harriedandharassed @kewwrites @romanarose

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murdockjonescagerand · 8 months

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3.8k, slasher!Joel x f!reader

Ty @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog for the slasher joel edit and movie poster. And @iamasaddie for the big girthy wrench and the mood board on the master list.

slasher Joel master list | spotify playlist

SUMMARY: Joel fixes and returns your car, pays you a visit, and stuffs you full of his cock and more. WARNINGS: I8+ unsafe dubcon P in V, creampie, m masturbation, crude language and degradation, knifeplay, superficial injury (cut), incidental pussy slap, fisting (be the change you want to see in the world), penetration with wrench A/N: If something sounds unappealing to you, please quietly skip the fic. This blog is kink-positive. Comments that could have a kink shaming effect may be removed, regardless of intent. Asks: @xdaddysprincessxx and 🔧 anon, ty

“Not here to make love to ya, sweetheart.” His cock twitches against your hand. ”That what ya want?” You can hear the smile in his voice.

You shake your head no, catching his scruff against your cheek. “want ya to fuck me.”

He chuckles, then puts on an air of sympathy. “Shame. . .that’d be nice. . .” His breath hot on your ear. “Shouldn’t’a left me.” You try to move and he pins you by your wrists.

------------

Joel is in his garage, under your car, finishing up. Yeah, he didn’t just tow it, he fixed it. Bet you're an ungrateful bitch about it. You're a brat, but god damn, you can take a dick. He’s never had anyone sink right down and ride him like that. He vividly recalls the sensation of being swallowed up. As blood rushes south, his cock strains his jumpsuit, still crusty with your combined juices. Every time he sees or smells it he thinks of how it all leaked out of your used up hole. He wipes his bicep on his forehead, then palms his growing bulge. He manages to ignore it while he finishes the repair, then rolls out from under your car.

He sits up on the roller, holding his big, heavy wrench against his thigh. He looks down at his arousal. He wonders if he's getting a beer belly as he sucks in his stomach to better see his engorged bulge. He unzips his jumpsuit all the way and pulls his T-shirt out from sticking under his pecs. Then he stands up with a groan and adjusts himself.

He sets his wrench aside and goes to the dingy old bathroom. His mom tried to make it nice, so there's soap and lotion and a little candle, but it hasn't been cleaned in forever. In the filthy mirror, he has motor oil all over his hands, and some on the side of his face. He takes his sleeves off and presses the hardness in his jumpsuit against the low sink as he washes up, then he takes his cock out and holds it in his hand. It's so fat he can barely get his own massive hand around it if he squeezes. You took it like a cock taking queen. He imagines that's what you are as he pumps the lotion into his hand.

He begins to stroke his raging erection and stares at himself in the mirror as he does it. The mirror lets him see a lot. His jumpsuit is hanging down, mostly out of the picture, the hems of his sleeves skimming the nasty floor as he strokes his cock. His hair is messed up. He rakes his free hand back through it. His forehead is sweating again as he runs his fist up and down his length. Cheeks are flushed, lips slightly parted, head tilted back as he's beginning to grunt softly with the stroke of his hand. His white t-shirt, stained with oil, stretches over his strong chest and little belly with a little dip of looser fabric in between, under his pecs. His sleeves barely contain his arms and his forearm flexes as he jerks it.

With his other hand, he takes his boxers under his massive balls so he can see those too. He tilts his head down, casting a shadow over his eyes, mouth hanging open, breathing heavily. He wets his lips and moans approaching the finish. He looks at his cock in the mirror and pictures you sucking his balls. Nasty little sex kitten sucking them so good. For a moment, picturing you between his knees, he feels like you want him. . . until his thoughts are jolted back to how you left him. His jaw clenches and he wonders what to do with you. When you're only good for one thing, you better be real good at it. Cunt. He jerks himself thinking about how you probably take so many cocks. He wonders how much you could take.

He takes a deep breath, his cock twitches in his hand, and he groans as he cums into the sink. As he finishes coming, he makes eye contact with himself in the mirror. Under his weathered face, for a moment he sees a younger, sadder man before his nose twitches into a snarl and he rinses the cum down the sink.

As he goes to leave the bathroom, half his footsteps are clicking. Something is stuck in the bottom of his work boot. He lifts his foot to look at the sole, and he pries a tooth from between the rubber ridges. He tosses it in the toilet on his way out.

. . .

Joel changes out of his uniform, showers, and puts on jeans and a tight t-shirt. It’s dusk when he gets in your driver's seat and starts your car. Empty coke bottles, goody's pain relief, fast food receipts, empty packets of gum. There’s plenty of personal information about you, too. He could take you tonight, if he felt like it. Fuck you and dump you. Oh, not figuratively, literally. If he feels like it. If only you hadn’t left him. . . he would’ve let you go.

He pulls up google maps and types in your address. It’s a long ass drive, an hour and a half, but might be worth it, he thinks. “What the hell were ya doin’ out here,” he mutters to himself. He knows the answer– whoring. Of course your gas tank is empty. He’ll fill it up on your dime. He hasn’t decided what to do with you when he puts the car in reverse. He'll figure it out on the way. As he's driving off, the heavy wrench slides off the roof of your car. "God damnit," he mutters and stops to pick it up. Before he gets back in the car, he pats his pocket and makes sure he has his switchblade. He calls his mom on the way to your house and tells her he needs to swing by for his extra key to the car. She asks him to stay for dinner.

—---------------

It’s only been a few days. You’ve been driving Joel’s car. You know he’ll come for it eventually, and that’s okay, you think. Depending on how pissed he is about you leaving him handcuffed on his bed and stealing his car. You think about him constantly, and it always turns you on. It’s making you irritable, living in a constant state of arousal. What’s wrong with you? He could kill you. He might still. And yet, you have half a mind to drive all the way back to his sad little camper just to chain him up and ride him again.

You’re home alone, watching TV when you hear a car park outside, then a car door closes. You look out the window and it’s your car. Your heart flutters. Then you hear another car door open and shut–Joel’s car–and the engine starts. He drives away in his car without so much as a glance toward your house. Your heart sinks and you’re disgusted with yourself.

You go out to your car and there’s a piece of paper under your windshield wiper. You unfold it and it says, “Take care, sweetheart.” There’s something on the other side. You turn it over. It’s a drawing. You can’t tell what it is until you turn it to the side and a chill runs down your spine–not just from the content, but the quality. It looks like a kid could have drawn it, but it’s so crude. The focal point is a detailed vagina, clit, hole, labia, and all, liquid leaking out of it. In much less detail, there are two legs spread with knees up, tits, and behind the tits, a picasso type face you presume is supposed to be you, based on the hair. Uneven eyes.

Something’s wrong with him. And, of course, something’s wrong with you–Because your heart sank when he drove away, but it sank more when you read, “take care.”

—

You think about him even more after that. Non-stop. You convince yourself he was never going to kill you. He was trying to scare you. It was a fucked up game. You wash the grisly t-shirt he gave you–rendered pointless with slashes through the front, and stains. You wear it and wash it and wear it and wash it, and it’s so fucked up.

A week or two later, you’re taking a walk in leggings and a tank top. You’re walking by some woods in an undeveloped stretch of your neighborhood, right before a big, vacant lot when you get an unsettling feeling. You jog the rest of the way home. When you’re standing in front of your fridge cooling off with a cold glass of water, you hear metal on metal and look over to see your sliding glass door being pried open. Joel’s imposing form pauses in the doorway. Then he turns and tosses the crowbar outside. He shuts the door behind him. He’s holding a huge wrench and his other hand is flexing around nothing, fingers slightly wiggling. He’s wearing his mechanic jumpsuit and a scowl.

His voice is deep and gravely. “Miss me, sweetheart?” he asks.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you ask as his boots thud ominously toward you. He’s so imposing, muscles begging for more room in his uniform. His nose twitches one side of his mouth into a smile, then he tilts his head and wets his lips. He lifts the wrench and lets the end of it fall heavily into his other massive hand. You stand frozen against the kitchen counter. You let him pin you to it. He puts the wrench down with a loud clunk on the faux granite. Then he plants his massive hands on either side of you, caging you to the counter. He presses his hips into you and the warmth of his semi-hard bulge makes you tingle. His belly presses into your middle. Your heart races. You wedge your hand between you and palm his bulge. He laughs, nearly silently, then brings his mouth to your ear.

“M’not here to make love to ya, sweetheart.” His cock twitches against your hand. ”That what ya want?”

You shake your head no and say “want ya to fuck me.”

He chuckles, then puts on an air of sympathy. “Shame. . .that’d be nice. . .” His breath hot on your ear. “Shouldn’t’a left me.” You try to move and he pins you by your wrists. You knee his groin and when he falls backward, you run around the counter. He comes after you with the wrench. You trip over a pair of shoes and he grabs a fistful of your shirt on your way to the floor, lessening your impact. You’re face-down on the carpet.

“Stop fuckin’ playin’,” he growls. He doesn’t let go of your shirt. He stabs through the fabric and slices all the way down to the bottom hem, then turns the blade upward and cuts the collar in one quick snap. You squirm under him. He puts all his weight on you, pushing his hard bulge against your ass. Then he lifts his pelvis off you, straddles your thigh, and shoves his hand between your legs, digging between your mound and the carpet to feel you through your leggings. You know they’re already damp. Joel opens and shuts his hand over your cunt, plucking the stretchy fabric out from your body and snapping it back against your pussy. Then he gets up on his knees, pulls the spandex out one last time, and stabs through it. He rips a big hole in the crotch. And he keeps stabbing and slicing at the fabric between your legs and then he nicks your inner thigh and you yelp.

“sorry, sweetheart.” he backs down your leg and gives the booboo a kiss. He slices the seat of your leggings more carefully, ripping them all the way open, then he presses the flat of the knife against one buttcheek, separating your crack more.

“Stop playin’,” he reminds you.

“Okay,” you whimper and stop fighting.

He puts his weight back on top of you, with his belly on your back and his knees straddling your thighs and his cock hard against your ass. He cups your exposed cunt and growls when he feels how wet you are. “There’s my sex kitten,” he murmurs. “Pussy’s dyin’ for it, ain’t she.”

“Just fuck me already,” you whine, disturbed by what a lack of sexual interest could possibly mean for you. Then you taunt, “Unless you can’t.”

He runs his thick fingers through your wet folds, then pushes one, then two, then three fat digits into you. He slowly pumps them and his cock swells against you. You twitch around him.

He sighs and says, “Course I can” and unzips his jumpsuit. “Only ‘cause I feel like it.” He spits loudly, then notches at your entrance and he’s even wider than you remember. He shoves himself into you, parting your core with his absurd girth.

“Mmmfuck,” he grunts. He retreats slightly then plunges in and you gasp as he bottoms out. “That what ya want?”

You get wetter around his cock and he begins to fuck you at a steady rhythm with your face pressed into the carpet. His hand engulfs the back of one knee to nudge it on the carpet, spreading your legs open more. He grunts as he pounds into you with the thickest cock you’ve ever had, even thicker than you remember.

“Nasty girl,” he rasps as the heft of his cock splits you open. “Take it like a real cockslut, don’t ya?”

Your nipples harden at his words and you whimper.

“But damn you can ride it, too,” he pants.

He grunts and moans as he buries his girth in you.

“More,” you whine, unsure why you have the constant urge to provoke him.

He pounds you harder and faster, grunting like an animal with his broad cock stabbing into you, massive balls slapping your skin through the tatters of your torn leggings.

“More,” you beg.

“Careful,” he warns. “Cause I’ll give ya more.”

His hips snap into you, stuffing you so full of cock, rearranging your guts.

“More,” you pant and his hips slow. He thrusts his fat cock into you slower then takes it out entirely. The void he leaves is jolting and the air is cold on your dripping cunt.

“Fuckin’ warned ya,” he bites. “Turn over and keep your mouth shut.” He forces you onto your back so you can see him. He slices through your sleeves and collars and you flinch with the knife near your neck. He tears your shirt off. “Give ya more,” he mutters. He straddles your right leg so his right hand is closest to your cunt. He slaps your pussy and rubs his flattened fingers around in your ample slick. Then he wipes it on his cock. He repeats the action until he’s satisfied with his lube. Then he spits on his cock again and slowly strokes himself with his left hand.

He pumps his cock with his left hand, and with his right hand, he puts three fingers in a triangular formation and wedges them into your cunt while it’s still stretched from his cock. He pushes his three fingers in and out, curling them, moving them side to side, stretching you slowly. Your body catches up with him, and your cunt gets even wetter. You’ll probably shrivel his fingertips at this rate. He pulls his fingers almost all the way out, then adds his pinky to the others and begins to wedge all four of them into you, clustered together barely inside your entrance. He puts his thumb on your clit. All four of his fat digits push into you and you moan.

“Ooh she likes it,” he coos. “Ever had your gash this full?” You spasm at his crudeness. “Mm?” He thumbs your clit and keeps stroking himself with his left hand.

You shake your head no. His four move in and out of you, and his eyes glue to your cunt, watching you take them. He thumbs your clit faster and your back arches. Your cunt relaxes more, like you want to swallow him whole.

He scowls, sliding all four of his fingers in and out of you as your body keeps you moist. Then he slides them out and pauses. He spits on his thumb, despite how sopping wet you are. He wedges his thumb between his fingers, so his thumb and pinky are touching each other, clustered with the three middle digits. Then he begins to push his hand into you. You groan at the stretch. His hand is massive, and gorgeous. You look at the other hand wrapped around his cock. It’s veiny–they both are, the hand and his cock. He adjusts his position and his massive balls rest on your thigh.

“Wanted more, didn’t ya?” he asks. He’s only buried his fingers to the second knuckle, with the bottom half of each digit still outside your cunt. He subtly twists his hand from side to side wriggling it into you. “Yeah, you can take it,” he says. Thank god you’re so shamefully wet for this psycho. “That’s my sex kitten.” He lets go of his cock and plants his hand on the floor for leverage, leaning over you. His hand pushes further into you, and you feel his major knuckles prodding at your poor, stretched hole. He pauses as though taking in the sight. He moans and his eyelids are half shut watching your dripping cunt stretch obscenely around his hand. “Fuck that’s hot,” he breathes, then he pushes the rest of his hand into you.

The stretch burns when his major knuckles crest your hole, with the heel of his palm still outside you. You whimper and he keeps going. He pushes his hand in, making your hole grow even wider. Your cunt stretches and swallows his hand—his whole hand. The heel of his palm nudges your g-spot, and his knuckles push against your walls. He’s buried to the wrist now. “Fuck, yeah,” he breathes. “God damn. . .hungry, ain’t she?” He pushes in a little further. Your walls hug his massive hand and don’t want to let go. You’re shocked by the moisture just pouring into your core, like your body wants more, more, more.

“What’s wrong with ya, huh?” You wish you knew. “Lemme ruin your clothes, ruin your hole.” He breathes heavier, grinds his cock against your thigh, and keeps the hand inside you mostly still. He clenches the hand inside you and his breathing falters. He slightly twists his hand. He starts to withdraw it, then pushes it back in before the knuckles emerge from your hole. He does this a few times, partly out and back in, and your walls squeeze him. You writhe under him. Then, he begins to wriggle his hand out of you. “Fuck, you should see this, baby.” He sits up straighter and takes his cock in his left hand again. “Ohh, fuck,” he breathes. “Spread wide open around my hand.” his thumb slips out first and he puts it back on your clit. You whimper.

“Yeah, ya like that?” he rubs you with his thumb, four fingers still inside you. Your hips lift into him. “Good girl,” he whispers, rubbing you rhythmically. You look at his fat cock in his hand, leaking precum, and you want it back so bad. “Not yet,” he shakes his head. He moves his four fingers inside you and thumbs your clit, watching between your legs with his mouth hanging open, saliva pooling at the corners of his lips. The tension builds and builds with his thumb on your clit until you begin to clench around his hand and he groans as your walls clamp down on him. “Ohhh,” he moans. “Good girl, oh fuck.” When you’ve finished spasming around his hand, he slides it out the rest of the way. When it’s out, he gives a low whistle and lightly taps your cunt with the backs of his fingers. “Don’t worry,” he reassures you. “Ain’t gonna leave ya empty.” He picks up his massive wrench and admires the wide end of it, a little bigger than his fist.

You’re dumbstruck. It’s nasty, it’s gross, but your body wants it, really bad. It’s like a dream where you can’t make yourself talk. You don’t move. You just look at it, clit throbbing as he brings the fat end of the wrench to your deflated, weeping cunt. He uses his left hand to spread you open and hold you open, then the cold metal makes you wince and your whole body erupts in goosebumps. His left hand helps, sticking his fingers in with the wrench and using them to tug your entrance around it as he wriggles the wrench into you. He’s gentler than you expect. He works the wide end of the tool all the way into you. It feels so dangerous and crude, but at least it’s smooth. It doesn’t scratch, thank god. It’s a little awkward, the way parts of it jut out, but at least the metal is smooth. And having it inside you is somehow exhilerating

“And just like that,” he marvels, “ya took it.” He raises his eyebrows. “Damn.”

“It’s fucking cold,” you complain.

He begins to fuck you with it in short little thrusts, watching your cunt take it. You’re stretched around the metal. The danger, the obscenity of it turns you on, but you find yourself staring at his cock, wanting it back. He lazily strokes himself with his left fist. He follows your eyes and says, “Had enough, huh?”

You nod.

“Want my big fat cock back?”

You nod.

“Alright, kitten.” He carefully wedges the wrench out of you and inhales sharply watching it emerge obscenely from your stretched out hole. He watches your body begin to pull itself back together as he puts the wrench down and gets between your legs. He lines up and shoves all the way into you, sliding easily to the hilt. He begins to rail you unrestrained. “Not too bad,” he pants, sliding in and out of you easily. This time, he feels like an average sized man. “Fuck,” he breathes, already close. “Don’t worry. Won’t leave ya empty.” He slows down a little and seems to be holding his breath. “fill ya up now,” he pants. “Much as this cumsock can take.” Your cunt twitches. “That’s right.”

He slams into you and erupts, pulsing massively into your worn-out hole, and a second climax sneaks up on you. Your hips lift into his and he groans. He hovers over you as he cums, and you admire his face, barely keeping your eyes open with waves of pleasure crashing through your core.

When his balls are empty. He hovers over you for a moment, gives a subtle but demented smile, eyes sparkling. Then he pulls out.

“Whew.” He sits back on his heels, and tucks his massive cock back into his jumpsuit. Your legs are still spread. He brings his face close to your cunt and says “all fucked out.” He gives it a pat with the backs of his fingers again. “Mmm.” He zips up his suit and braces his hands on his thighs. He stands up with a groan.

“Why did you come here?” you ask him.

He ignores the question, picks up the wrench, leaves you on the floor, and leaves.

----

Thank you so much for reading and interacting!! Love you guys. Happy Friday the 13th, and Happy Halloween.

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murdockjonescagerand · 8 months

Text

Love Me Back, Ch VI: The Nudibranch

Joel Miller x f!reader

Series masterlist

Series summary: Who catches you when you let go of your comforts and chase what you fear is out of reach?

Warnings: Smut, no outbreak AU, angst, age gap (Joel is 40, reader is 27), size kink, semi-protected PIV, oral sex (f, m receiving), therapy, self esteem issues, abandonment issues, rejection, trauma responses, self destructive tendencies, face sitting, breath play, masturbation (m), daddy kink, the dad/daddy phenomenon is still going ham.

Word count: 8.3k Rating: 18+ AO3

“I don’t understand how I ended up here,” you say, picking at the armrest on the couch.

“In therapy, you mean?”, Jen says with a bit of a laugh.

You laugh too, as you answer, “No, in my degree program, in this.. Relationship, I guess, with Joel.. I don’t really feel like I deserve any of it, like, why am I getting this and not someone who’s better than me? Why do I have people contacting me, wanting to hire me after graduation, why does Joel text me and ask me to have dinner or sleep over or go somewhere with Sarah or go for a drive? Why me, you know?”

“Well, why not you?”

“Cause I’m just this random person.. I’m not a scholarly genius, I’m not the world's most interesting or smart or hardworking or pretty person.. I’m just a girl with weird aquatic interests, you know? I’ve always been that. I’m, like, the average Joe, non-playable character walking down the street who just so happens to know about, like, types of plankton.”

Jen gives you a look you’ve seen too many times, of disbelief, doubt, a little bit scolding in its expression.

“I know, I know.. I have to stop saying that shit about myself, but I just..”, you shake your head, “I like to forget that everyone has different tastes and they’re looking for different things.. Maybe this research facility is looking for someone who knows about fucking plankton, maybe there is a whole group of men out there looking for.. All of this.” You gesture broadly at yourself as you say it.

“Now we’re making progress,” she winks, and you feel a bit better, but only for a moment, before your own words catch up to you.

“See, now I feel like an idiot for calling it a relationship even though he still hasn't asked me to be his girlfriend.”

“Why is that label so important? If you’re spending so much time together, that’s a relationship, is it not?”

“Shouldn’t he want to be, like, official?”

“I don’t know him like you do,” she shrugs, “Maybe it means something different to him.”

“But all girls want that,” you sigh exasperatedly, “I asked about his ex-wife and he said he didn't have anything serious since then.”

“Well, maybe those experiences after his divorce didn't mean much to him? Maybe they didn’t last very long or there wasn’t a very deep connection?”

“What if he's just lying?”

“Why would he lie about it?”

“I don't know.. Even if he didnt, I can't stop picturing him and these other women, Val mostly cause she’s the most recent and I guess she lasted the longest.. And I hate thinking about it, it makes my stomach turn but it festers in my mind and I can’t stop. Then I start comparing myself to all of them sexually, wondering what they must’ve been like.. And then after that I inevitably start freaking out cause we’re not formally in a relationship so, like, what distinguishes me from all of those women?”

“What if he asked you to be his girlfriend right now? Would everything be solved?”

“No.”

“Well, if it’s not the label that’s the issue here, what is it that eats at you so much? That makes you compare yourself in that way?”

“He’s just so good to me and I- I can’t accept it, I just get fucking stressed out cause how am I supposed to accept it, or return it? Don’t you have to love yourself before you can love someone else?”

“Not necessarily, I don't think.. I believe that, in order to accept that love, you have to believe that you deserve it, otherwise you'll just find reasons to dismiss it and not accept it fully, you see what I mean? So if Joel is giving you one hundred percent of his love, you'll only accept fifty if you don't really think you deserve that hundred.”

“Shit.. ”

“Mhmm. So it’s about self acceptance, and feeling like you’re worth someone investing their time and energy, and love, into. And a lot of these self love concepts are very materialistic, it's about buying stuff to feel better about yourself, not accepting you for you, does that make sense? These companies don’t give a rat’s ass if you have high self esteem, they want you to feel bad so you believe buying their product will make you feel deserving of a better life, or love, or a job, anything.”

“You’re right.”

“And honestly, maybe those labels don't mean as much to Joel? People value different things when it comes to relationships, some people don’t think in those terms.”

“They probably don’t.. And I know labels shouldn’t be so important to me either, but.. It just feels like such a free-for-all for shitty men, you know? I just feel like every time I get into something with a guy, he relegates me to, like, a slampiece or a fuck buddy and then I never even get the chance to tell him how it feels, how much it hurts me, cause we never actually have a conversation about what’s going on. I just have to sit there and watch him get a new girlfriend, a real one, right? And it hurts every time, it makes me so angry at them and at myself for never demanding anything. From never advocating for myself and saying that it's fucked up that they just used me for sex. So I have all this- this pent up anger, again towards both, at them for using me and at myself for never telling them that either they have to commit or I’m done. It's always them being done and me being blindsided. I walk around with this constant fear of Joel doing that to me, of finding out he’s been using me while he waits for someone better to come along.”

You pause for a second.

“What scares me is that, if he found someone else, I wouldn't even see it, you know? He’s so offline, he has a phone number and an email address and that's it. At least when the others got a girlfriend, I had a reason for why they went MIA on me, I saw it on their social media, but with Joel, he would just disappear one day. I don’t know, I- I feel like I’m counting down the days until that happens, till the day Lana tells me he's-”, your voice breaks, fuck, I’m sorry, and you sniffle as you continue, “Engaged or something.”

Jen looks at you softly, brows furrowing in a show of empathy, pushing the box of tissues towards you on the table.

“It fucking hurts to even imagine, I- I’ve never felt this way about anyone.. If he dumped me or just ghosted me, I wouldn’t be able to handle it, I'd probably just become a hermit and never show my face again. He’s, like, ruined me somehow, I can’t live normally after this.” You close your eyes and wipe the tears away with the back of your hands. “I’ll never feel this way again, for anyone, I don't want to feel this way for anyone else, I just want him, and it- it scares me how much I want him, I need him. I don’t know if he needs me, I try not to think about that.”

“Sounds like that makes it difficult to enjoy the time you spend together,” she suggests, “If you’re always worried that it’s the last time or that he’s suddenly not gonna want to see you anymore.”

“Yeah,” you huff a self-deprecating laugh as you nod, “I cried after we had sex the first time and I couldn’t figure out why.. Then I realized it was because I was convinced it would never happen again.”

“But then it did- it did happen again, right?”

“Many times, and now all that fear has, like, morphed into another one, you know? Now that I’m not afraid of him ditching me after having sex, I’m worried about him finding out who I really am, and then ditching me cause I’m too much to handle, or finding out but just keeping me around as some sort of sex toy.”

“Well, maybe if he sees who you really are then he has an opportunity to prove to you that he really does want to be with you, don’t you think?”

“I guess… I just- I don’t want him to have to see it, I don’t want to give him the opportunity to break things off with me, and I know that sounds insane but I just want it to be secure and, like, I don’t know.. I don’t want him to see me like that, having a hard time.”

“How do you know a relationship is secure with no evidence? If there’s never been an opportunity for you to prove that you’ll make it through stuff?”

“There shouldn’t be any problems, I guess.”

“That’s impossible,” she laughs softly.

“But isn’t that how it’s supposed to be if you’re with the right person.”

“Is it?”

“I don’t know..”

“What do you gain from it being linear?”

“Security, maybe?”

“Okay.. But how will you know it’s secure if it’s never been shaken?”

You sigh, realizing how stupid your thoughts sound out loud, “Cause he’s perfect and I’m perfect in this scenario.”

“Do you expect your friends to be perfect? To never make mistakes, not have any faults or negative qualities?

“No.”

“But you expect yourself to be?”

“Yes.”

“And your significant other?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“I guess I sort of see my boyfriends as an extension of myself and I need to be perfect, so-”

“And what if you're not?”

“Then I’m a fraud.”

“Val.. Is she perfect?”

“I guess.”

“Why isn't Joel with her then?”

“What if he just ditched her cause she won't commit, and then she finds out he's met someone else, she decides she's ready and contacts him again?”

“That doesn’t mean he wants her back.”

“He probably knows her much closer than he knows me, though, I mean it lasted for a year and a half for God’s sake, that has to count for something or- or be the foundation of something.”

“Even so, he still ended it.”

“Yeah, and it sounds an awful lot like he broke it off with her for me and I just- I don't understand why.. And I can't ask him cause then he’ll know that I knew about Val before he told me about her and I’m gonna seem like some sort of stalker.”

“Why don't you just say your sister mentioned it when you asked for his number?”

“I just can't.. I feel like I'm always this close to him finding out I'm a fraud.”

“What do you mean by fraud?”

“That I’m not this person I’m trying to be, I’m not the person he thinks I am.”

When you walk in the door at Joel’s house, the extra copy of his house key in hand, still not given back since you were on Pitbull feeding duty, you hear him and Sarah in the kitchen, making dinner. You hear his gentle encouragement as you quietly walk in, stopping in the doorway to the dining room to observe them just a little longer. His broad back, his curls, his side profile when he looks at Sarah and spots you from the corner of his eye, the smile on his face as he catches your eye.

“Hey,” you say carefully, walking in and putting your hands on Sarah’s shoulders, giving Joel a kiss as he stirs the pan, “Are you the sous chef today?”

She shrugs as she looks up at her father and giggles, “I didn’t do much, I just taste tested.”

“How was soccer?”, you ask as the three of you start to eat, and you look at Joel after the first bite, mouthing what the fuck and pointing at your plate, equally astounded at his abilities in the kitchen every time.

“So my friend, Ellie, on my team,” Sarah starts to say, stopping to breathe between words, “We were talking about hornworms, like Pitbull’s dessert worms.” Jesus Christ, Joel mutters just as Sarah starts coughing, and he rolls his eyes.

“Sarah, baby, you gotta start slowin’ down,” he scolds gently, “You’re gonna choke one of these days.”

“Daddy,” she huffs, “I was telling a story.”

Another cough, and you try not to laugh as you encourage her, “What was it about the hornworms?”

She takes another bite, forcing you and Joel to simply sit and wait as she chews, stabbing another ravioli with her fork before she continues. “Okay, so,” she starts to say, followed by the smacking sound of her biting off half the filled pasta, “She told me why they're blue.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, she said that- that,” you glance over at Joel as Sarah pauses again to chew, and watch him as he blinks, spinning his fork around in his hand, waiting for this story to go absolutely anywhere, “That oxygen goes in their blood with this chemical and that- and it looks blue, because of their blood.” You nod in contemplation as she inhales her food.

“That's pretty interesting,” you say, “What kinda chemical is it?”

“Mmmm, copper?”, she seems a little unsure.

“Wow.”

“And then she said hornworm caterpillars,” her eyes flash open, “They turn into moths. That’s crazy.”

You and Sarah settle in on the couch after dinner, clicking through documentary titles while Joel cleans up the kitchen. She picks one about axolotls, one you haven’t seen in a long time, and Joel comes over to join only a few minutes later, with Sarah shouting over the narrator to catch him up on what he missed.

He puts Sarah on his lap so he can scoot closer to you, and you notice after only ten minutes that she’s asleep with her face buried in his neck, his arms around her, his nails lightly scratching her back over her t-shirt. He looks at you, then at her, before he whispers, “Stay here, I’ll put her to bed real quick,” and carries her through the living room and up the staircase, disappearing for a little while you hear the sounds of teeth being brushed upstairs and him making her bed.

Then he comes back down, settles into the couch with you again, and only a few minutes go by before you’re mouthing at his neck, straddling one of his thighs and starting to pull his hard cock out of his sweatpants. He groans when you gently run your thumb back and forth across his head, waiting for another dribble of precome to leak through the slit before your spread it around as your mouth reaches his, and you suck his bottom lip in, giving it a nibble before he licks your tongue and moans into you.

“How does it feel?”, you purr, and he starts to thrust his hips slightly, into your hand, as the arousal pools deep inside you from his movements, feeling his cock in your hand, the ridges and swells of it, knowing how good every curve feels inside you, how insatiable you’ve been for him since the first time you took him inside you.

“Good,” he murmurs, kissing you before he can utter another word, “Everything you do feels good.” You bite your lip as you bend over, licking up the precome from his tip and pressing wet kisses all the way down the underside of his length.

He groans, a deep exhale in the very bottom of his chest, as you take his cockhead between your lips, teasing the sensitive underside with your tongue, flicking it carefully and taking a little more every time you slide him into your mouth, hot and wet and slobbering down his shaft, making him tilt his head back and tense the muscles in his stomach. He tries to be quiet, tries to stifle the moans and curses that threaten to tumble from his lips, needing you to know how fucking good your lips feel on his cock, how your tongue slides along the veins bulging out of his skin.

You take him in to the very back of your throat, swallow around him and let him gather your hair in his fist, placing his other hand on the back of your neck, and allow him to slowly fuck your mouth. He saws his length in and out, and you become painfully aware of the ache between your legs, the need for something inside you, and you slip your hand down into your panties, beginning to rub your clit. He growls when he notices, his eyes intensely focused on how your wrist moves, softly grunting when he hears the sound of your muffled moans.

“Stand up, baby,” he whispers, firmly, with no opportunity for backtalk, and you do as he says, releasing him from your mouth and letting his cock slap against his pelvis as you get on your feet. He grabs your hips and slides your leggings off, along with your panties, throwing them on the side of the couch and motioning for you to sit on his lap while he holds the base of his cock. You step over to him, planting one knee on the left of his one thigh and one the right of his other, holding his broad shoulders to stabilize yourself as you feel his fat tip at your entrance, both of you wet from arousal, and you start to sink down.

The sensation of how he fills you is so deliciously overwhelming, and he rubs your back while your inner muscles work to make space for him, allowing you to sit down on him completely while he pushes into his spot inside of you, the spot that belongs to only him, that he is welcome to own for as long as he wants. “You’re so fucking big,” you whisper into the shell of his ear, “Nobody’s ever filled me like this, ah- fuck, or fucked me like you do.”

A hum of approval vibrates in his chest and he splays a hand over your lower back, the other sliding up to your throat to wrap around it, and he lightly presses on either side of your neck as he pushes you towards him.

You grind your hips on him, wind them back and forth at just the right angle, rubbing your clit over his pubic bone every time he thrusts into you and you feel the blood rushing in your head when he tightens his grip. He looks at you so intensely, steadily thrusting upwards and into you, cursing under his breath. “Just like that, babygirl, just grind on it,” his whispers making your eyes slide back, while you tighten up, digging your fingers into his muscle, sliding your clit along his coarse hair when you fully take him, whimpering with your lip between your teeth.

“Now look me in the eyes, sweetheart,” his pinky and thumb come up under your jaw and he angles your face forward to look at him, “And come on my cock, you know you can.”

Everything inside you tightens while you stare into his eyes, then turn into putty while your orgasm throbs in your lower belly, his dick still sliding in and out of you, stretching you out and making your insides so tender that every thrust threatens to make you come again. “Good girl,” he says, “Let’s go upstairs so I can fuck you right.”

You find yourself in his bedroom, all of your clothes taken off now, and you laying naked on his bed as he massages and kisses all over your body while his hard cock hangs free, precome starting to dribble out as he touches your body, committing every curve and swell and bump to his memory. He flips you over onto your stomach and lands a swat to the meat of your ass, grabs it and bites your other asscheek, soothing the bite mark with his tongue.

“I want you to ride my face,” you hear him whisper behind you as he spreads you open, kissing down the back of your thigh, “Want you to suffocate me while you come. Can you do that for me?” He flips you back over and spreads your legs, starting to lick and kiss your clit as his eyebrows knit, waiting for a response.

You nod, biting down on your tongue. Yes, daddy.

He shifts you on top of him as he lays down, positioning your pussy right above his face as you sit on your knees, hovering over him with your stomach and chest in full view. “If you feel me do this,” he says and taps your leg three times, “Then I need to come up for air for a second, then I’m goin’ back in.” You nod again, smiling, and he continues. “Until then,” he kisses your clit, gives it a light suckle and makes your eyes roll, “I don’t wanna feel any tension in your thighs, I want you to relax for me.”

He wraps his hands around the front of your thighs and pulls you down, squeezing your flesh until you relax your weight onto him and he starts to lick, pulling your clit with his lips and sucking on it lightly. You start to roll your hips and lean back on your hands, planted on his hips and digging your fingers into his skin as you lean your head back, riding his tongue. He hums while he makes out with your sex, and you feel the vibrations of his voice as he lets go of your one thigh and reaches down to start stroking his cock.

You glance down at his bicep, watching how it flexes and hearing him grunt as he jacks himself, turning your head to watch for a moment. A jolt of arousal shoots through your core at the sight of how he thrusts into his own hand, at the sound of him grunting when his palm passes over the thick head, how he licks you faster when he picks up speed. Your hips maintain a steady pace as you grind against his mouth, and you suddenly hear him whispering beneath you, “Baby, breathe.”

“Sorry,” you whisper back, then relax your stomach and take a deep breath while he kisses along your folds, then runs his tongue up from your opening again, focusing back on your clit. You find your rhythm again, moaning and breathing heavily at the feel of his tongue. He looks up at you, at the softness of your stomach and fullness of your chest, needing to glide his hands over every inch of your skin, to massage your ass, rub your nipples, and choke you a little, just the way you like.

He jacks his cock faster while he tastes you, starting to suck on your clit so intensely your entire body tenses and you arch your back, barely getting to whisper that you’re gonna come before it starts to take over your body, and your orgasm pulses through you right as you feel the warm ropes of his come hit your ass and hear him grunt and groan.

The two of you stay right where you are for a minute, trying to regulate your breathing, before you lift off of him and flop down onto your stomach, and he cleans you up with a towel before laying down next to you and pulling you into him. You play with his hair as you lay flush with his body, kissing him and giggling, rubbing your nose with his and feeling his hand over your back, your hip, your ass and your thigh. It’s so big and warm, his touch so gentle and loving despite his rough skin.

You feel a bit of a deranged urge, at this moment, to tell him that you love him, that he’s everything you want in a man, that you’re afraid of how strongly you feel for him. It’s not possible to feel as strongly for anyone, as you do for him, it shouldn’t be humanly possible to feel any stronger than this. You’re in love with him, so painfully in love with him you don’t know what to do with yourself other than miss him every day and hope that he thinks about you half as much as you think about him.

“You wanna go again?”, you ask, and he looks at your lips as he smiles. Always, he says, hooking your leg over his hip so you can grind onto him, onto his already hard cock sitting in between you. He starts to kiss you again, angling your head back with his thumb under your jaw, and he licks into your mouth, hot, wet, growling when you grind your entrance onto his tip and it starts to slide into you. You let the head of him glide into your pussy and you massage it with your walls, clenching and sucking him in, listening to him groan as he holds himself back from brutally shoving the entirety all the way in.

Stop teasing, he whispers as you dig your face into the crook of his neck, licking and kissing his skin, slowly winding your hips, before he grabs onto your ass, gets you onto your back with him between your legs, and thrusts once, hitting your cervix and grinding there. You keen and giggle at the sensation, at how he hits you right where you’re so sensitive, so soft and tender, just for him, for his fingers, for his cock.

His hands are tight on your hips as he moves backwards, staying buried inside you and dragging you with him until you reach the end of the mattress and he steps onto the floor, giving your hips a last pull to the edge before throwing your one ankle onto his shoulder. He leans over, planting his palms on either side of you and thrusting in even, deep strokes as he looks at you, bringing his hand to your chin to tilt your face up when you start to stare, a little bit mortified, at where he fucks you. “Yeah, this is what you needed, huh, baby?”, he coos, and you furrow your brows as you look back at him, letting out a weak, submissive mhmmm.

Daddy. Daddy. Daddy.

He grabs the backs of your thighs, pushing them onto your chest and folding you into a mating press, drilling into you, watching you squirm with your forearms over your eyes, unable to handle how intensely he looks at you. You’re getting ravaged by him, pushed into the mattress and fucked relentlessly, not moving a muscle, just letting him give you what he needs to give you, fucking you like he needs to fuck you. And you can tell he needs it, you can feel and taste how much he needs to give it to you like this, to get as deeply into you as possible and see what it does to you, see how you attempt to contort yourself until you realize there’s no use and then relax into being entirely pliable for him.

“Fuck, I’m about to come like this,” he grits through his teeth, then rips himself from you quickly, still holding your thighs with a steel grip, “Have to hit that from the back too, baby, you need me deep inside you, huh?” He takes a breath, and you watch his cock bobbing for up and down slightly, covered in your slick, creamy arousal, his tip flushed red, just like his chest. He flips you around swiftly, and you’re on all fours again, arching your back to present him with your holes, letting him fill whichever one he chooses.

Your eyes slide back when he enters your pussy from behind, when you feel every slick inch gliding into you until your ass hits his skin and you wind your hips, fucking yourself on him for a few moments while he stands still, grunting and kneading your ass with his palm, landing a few swats to the side, soothing his hand over your flesh as it jiggles.

“I gotta fuck you, just like this,” he breathes as his hands grab your waist again and he pulls hard, backing you onto him harshly before he fucks you faster, grunting louder as he pounds you and you moan into the sheets, fisting your hands in his duvet to stabilize yourself so you can bounce back onto him and hear the slap of your skin against his.

“You know how badly I wanna fuck your little asshole?”, he asks, he’s so fucking dirty and you love it, you love him. You know he’s powerless to the sight of his cock disappearing into you, your asscheeks shaking, your asshole fluttering when you come. You nod into the sheets, tightening at the thought of having him in your ass and-.

“Daddy?”, you suddenly hear from Sarah’s room.

Joel immediately pauses as he half-shouts to her, “What is it, baby? You need me?”

It’s quiet for a second, and then, “I had a nightmare, I can’t sleep.”

He pulls out of you carefully, whispers an apology, gives you a kiss on your shoulder blade and gets out of bed, calling to her, “Alright, Sarah, I’ll be there in a second.” He puts on his boxers, pajama pants and a t-shirt laying on the ground, before going to the bathroom to wash his hands, then comes back out to have some water and apologize once again before you cut him off, insisting it’s okay.

“I’ll be right back, five minutes and she’s out like a light,” he says, kisses you again, opens the door and heads out of the room.

“What was the nightmare about, huh?”, you hear from across the hall, followed by some little murmurs, some soft coos, the creaking of her bed as she raises up to receive a hug, and then Joel’s voice again, “Of course, which book? The one from last night?” You hear a groan as he gets up from her bed, a real dad-groan, and then him clearing his throat as he finds the right page.

You listen to him reading to Sarah, to his low, soft voice, and, based on how slowly he turns the pages, you’re willing to bet that he's gently scratching her back with his other hand as he reads, the same way he always does when you all watch movies together and she inevitably ends up falling asleep on him.

“Klaus turned and saw one of the members of Count Olaf’s theater troupe, the one with hooks for hands, standin’ in the doorway. “What are you doin’ in this musty old room, anyway?” he asked in his croak of a voice, walking over to where Klaus was sitting.”

You recognize, after only a few sentences, that he’s reading to her from a book you used to love as a child, one you can’t remember the name of but know is definitely from A Series of Unfortunate Events, the only books you ever made it through at her age, and you figure you might as well lay there and listen to him reading as you wait for him to come back, never passing up an opportunity to witness how good he is with Sarah, what a gentle and caring father he is, perhaps the thing about him you love and admire the most.

“Narrowing his beady eyes, he read the title of one of the books. “Inheritance Law and Its Implications?”, he said sharply. “Why are you readin’ that?”

Joel doesn’t get much further before you fall asleep to the soothing sound of his voice, the smell of him covering the pillow under your cheek and the duvet you’re tucked into, pulled up all the way to your jaw. You feel so safe with him, in his house, in his bedroom, regardless of whether he’s in the same room or on a different floor. There is nothing that could possibly hurt you when you’re in his arms, and you understand why Sarah seems to be a much more secure child than you were at her age.

You fall into a deep sleep, but only stay there for a little while before he comes back into the room and gently folds the duvet open to wake you up. “Let's get you up and ready for bed, baby,” you hear him whisper, sliding a hand under your back and reaching up to your neck, the other slipping under your knees, “You have to pee before you fall asleep again, don’t want you gettin’ a UTI, alright?” You murmur a sleepy sort of hum, and let him pick you up, carry you into the bathroom and set you down on the toilet before brushing his teeth.

He hands you your own toothbrush after you’ve washed your hands, with toothpaste squeezed on already, and douses a cotton pad in your makeup remover as he sits down on the edge of the tub. He chuckles as he watches you brushing, swaying like you’re drunk and looking like you’re about to fall over, before you come to sit down on his lap with both legs swung over the side of his thigh.

He carefully removes your makeup as you keep your eyes closed, half asleep as you sit there with his other arm holding you up. Then he reaches over to the sink to turn it on, grabs a washcloth from the shelf and your cleanser from your toiletry bag, and cleanses your face just as gently, wiping it all off with the soft, warm cloth, before moving on to your products, carefully smoothing them into your skin just like he has watched you do, too many times to count by now.

All done, he says softly, kisses your shoulder and lifts you up again, then carries you into the bedroom and tucks you in next to him, with your head on his chest and an arm laying across his stomach. He turns on the dim lamp on his bedside table, and reads until he can no longer keep his eyes open, giving you a kiss to the top of your head and pulling you in a little closer in the dark as he switches the light off.

The booming thunder is what wakes you up the next morning, and it must have drowned out the sound of both of your alarms, because when you turn your head and open your eyes, you see that it’s already eight forty five, only fifteen minutes before Joel is supposed to be at work and Sarah should already be at school. You shake him awake, and he immediately looks at the time, his eyes widening as jumps up. He reaches over to grab his phone off the nightstand as he runs a hand through his hair and rubs his eyes with his palm. You sit up a little as he reads a text, getting up and pulling his clothes off the floor as he listens to a voicemail, and you can vaguely hear Tommy’s voice on the other end.

He gets dressed in a panic and grabs his phone as he sits back on the bed, starting to type a message as you carefully ask him what’s going on. “My dad’s gotta go to the fuckin’ hospital, fell of a goddamn ladder,” he says with a sigh, as you get up and start to get dressed, “I have to call outta work and take Sarah, I- fuck, I gotta wake her up and feed her before we go.” You hear the swoosh of his text sending before he tosses his phone on the bed and heads to Sarah’s room.

You’ve never seen him stressed out like this, barely acknowledging your existence aside from answering your question, and figure you should probably get out of his hair, assuming he’ll have to stay the weekend away. You desperately wish you could help, but can’t find the words as you start to collect your stuff, dumping your clothes and toiletries in your duffel and listening to the rain beating down against the windows while he takes longer than usual to wake Sarah.

Joel comes back into his bedroom in silence as you stand there, and sits down at the edge of the bed, pinching the bridge of his nose and breathing heavily, clearly trying to think. “Sarah’s sick,” he whispers, and you can hear the frustration in his voice already, the stress of being stretched thin between Sarah, his dad, his work, and you, “And I should be going to San Antonio cause my parents are there.. Tommy said they need me, Lana ain’t even home cause she’s on a work trip and Tommy’s freakin’ out, calling me like he’s incapable of driving my dad to the ER, fuckin’ idiot.”

It is as if a bubble suddenly popped, an illusion ruined, as he has to sit there and show you, in a crisis and a vulnerable state, exactly why all the women before you never wanted any more from him, why they never wanted all of this, as he had told you before, almost as a warning when he thinks back on it. Now you have to see the reality of what entering into a relationship with a single parent is like, the reality Val avoided, and he cannot for the life of him understand why any woman in her right mind would want this, especially with a child who isn’t even her own, with in-laws she’s never met, someone young, with enough on her plate. He feels like a walking minefield as he sits there, feeling foolish for knowing that a situation like this could occur and still making no effort to shield you from it.

You sit down next to him and put your hand on his back, trying not to breathe too loud as you stay there. “I’ll ditch class and call out of work, it’s fine,” you say softly, “Go see your dad, I'll stay here with Sarah.”

He winces a little, shrugging your hand off his shirt, barely holding his hand up towards you with his eyes closed, “Don’t- don’t do that for me, okay? Please - you’re not her mom, just- don't worry.” You shift back, trying not to feel hurt by the subtle rejection, knowing it’s not you he’s frustrated with but finding yourself unable to not take it personally, to not take it as him not trusting you or not wanting you around when it really matters, to not take it as you being nothing but a burden in this moment.

As much as he wants to accept your help, he can’t find it in himself, the thought of someone else taking care of Sarah. It makes him feel like a failure of a parent, one who can’t take care of their own child in a crisis. He doesn’t even know how to delegate that task to someone else, even to the person he trusts so deeply with Sarah and with absolutely everything else, having been solely responsible for her for so long, the memories of what coparenting is even like, completely gone with time.

He has to think about something else, has to shake the feeling of where your relationship is in all of this, and grabs his phone, reading a new message from Tommy, and starts to type a response with trembling hands.

“It’s fine, Joel, really-”, you start to say, but he interrupts you quickly as he takes his face in his hands, and you see his back rising quickly as he breathes.

”Don’t ditch your plans, it’s fine, baby, you're not my wife, I don't expect you to- just- please, go to class, go to work, I’ll- I’ll deal with this.”

His words feel like a spear through your chest for some reason, a black on white statement that you are not the person he goes to when he needs someone, that you are not the person he trusts Sarah with, that you are, apparently, not someone he finds very useful in a crisis. And in this moment, when he needs you to stay calm, insist on helping, maybe be a little firm with him and tell him that you're staying and you don't care what he thinks, you can’t stop that vault of anger and hurt, built up from years of rejection and heartbreak, from exploding open, making Joel the undeserving target of all the pent up hurt and vengefulness you’ve bottled up for so long.

“Yeah, you're right,” you say with a shaky voice and even shakier hands as you stand up, “I’m not your wife, I’m- I’m not even your girlfriend.” You take a step back from him, and he doesn’t seem to have noticed that you got off the bed, still typing as he shakes his head.

“Yeah, wife, girlfriend- whatever,” he sighs and waves dismissively, rubbing his forehead and tapping away, flipping between the text conversation and map directions for how to get to Tommy’s house.

Suddenly, the man in front of you turns into a stranger, into yet another man who has forgotten about your existence, who has gotten what he wanted from you and tossed you aside when you haven’t been useful, when you’ve been too much or not enough.

“Cause you’ve never committed,” your breath hitches as you speak, your eyes flared open and a fight or flight reaction happening inside of you, an adrenaline rush making you want to run away from him as far as possible, “Y-you’ve never claimed me, never asked me to be your girlfriend even though we’ve been fucking around for so long-”.

“That’s not what I meant,'' he interjects, still looking down, paying half-attention, but you can’t stop, all your thoughts pouring out like word vomit as you stand against the wall, trying to disappear into it.

You start to hyperventilate, your legs frozen when you want to run away, still hoping he’ll look up for a second to notice you. “You’ve been fucking me for weeks and weeks and haven't committed, oh my god,” you start to feel faint all of a sudden, “I - I fucking let it happen again, I let it happen again and now you’re gonna keep fucking me until-”.

He puts his phone down on the bed and looks up at you as he interrupts your spiral. “That's not what I-, please, don't-”, is all he gets to say before you hear Sarah calling for him from her bedroom. He looks up at the ceiling, the wrinkle between his eyebrows looking deeper than ever, a mix of pain and exhaustion on his face as he calls back to her, “I’ll be there in a second, baby.”

“What’s the matter with you?”, he asks as he looks up at you, and in the state you find yourself in, you can’t tell if he’s concerned or angry, all of his words turning into a blur as you see him slipping through your fingers, you having torpedoed another potential relationship.

“What's the matter with me?”, you snap, unable to control your tone as all your muscles tremble, “You think I’m fucking insane cause I finally realized what’s going on here?” He grimaces and looks at you with pure confusion, blinking a few times as his mouth hangs half open. “What are you keeping me around for, Joel? Someone to keep your dick warm while you wait for someone better to come along or- or someone more fit to be a stepmom-”.

You know it's misplaced, misdirected, and unfairly taken out on him, but you can't stop the words flying out of your mouth, suddenly remembering, so viscerally, all the times you've been told that you’re not relationship material, wife material, coming back to haunt you, all the times you saw that someone else was given the title of a girlfriend after a man told you they weren't looking for anything serious.

His shoulders sink, and he says your name so softly, a little bit exasperatedly, furrowing his brows, as if he’s finally seeing you, like he’s himself again, observant, in tune with you, noticing how hurt you are.

And then, just when you think he might ask you to sit on his lap, when you think he might hug you and tell you that you can talk later, that Sarah can stay here with you and that he trusts you to take care of her, his phone rings, and when you look at the caller ID, you feel like you might throw up.

VAL B.

It only rings for a few seconds, but when Joel sees your eyes widening and your jaw dropping as you look at his phone, he glances over and rolls his eyes.

“That is not-”, he starts to say as he rejects the call, but you can almost hear something inside of you snap as the air is knocked out of your lungs, and what little hope you had of salvaging this situation goes down the drain as you start to cry.

“You’re still fucking talking to Val?”, you don’t mean to raise your voice, but your anger is the only thing keeping the nausea at bay, with thoughts of him fucking both you and her on the low festering in your brain, “Are you kidding me?”

He sighs, and you can tell he’s on his last leg, but at this point, you want to hurt him. “Of course I’m not,” he says, before he closes his eyes and rubs his temple, clearly frustrated with you now.

“Then why the fuck is she calling you?”, you can see your hands shaking as you hold them out to your sides, and you feel your blood draining from your head, going to your arms and legs, starting to twitch in preparation to get you out of here and far, far away.

“I don’t know why, it’s eight in the fuckin’ morning,” he’s angry now, his voice restrained, jaw clenched as he holds back but his breathing is heavy and you wonder how far away he is from snapping too, “She never called me at work, I haven’t even spoken to her since-”.

You cut him off again, “I don't wanna hear it, I’m done, I’m done with you,” your words have a strange taste to them, a mix of pain from the one relationship you truly hoped for, crumbling in front of your eyes, a sort of sick satisfaction from finally getting to be the one who calls the shots, and your salty tears streaming into your mouth, “I thought this was different, can't believe I ended up in this shit again.”

He stands up as you turn to leave, grabbing your arm before he’s even halfway up and yanking you backwards to stand in front of him. His grip is firm around your elbow and he’s towering over you, forcing you to look up at him as he grits through his teeth, his eyes dark and stern, “Baby, stop this.”

You want, so desperately, to collapse into his chest when you’re standing so close that you can smell him, but you can’t let the opportunity slip away to stand up for yourself, like you didn’t all those times in the past.

And before you know it, it all comes tumbling out, in a choked up frenzy, vulnerable and humiliating as you rip your arm out of his grasp. “Why won't you date Val when she's so perfect and h-here I am having more issues than- than a fucking Trivial Pursuit game,” you stop to take a heaving breath, your eyes widening and your tone turning a little manic, “And- and you don’t even know the half of it, you have no idea how fucked up I am, Joel.”

He glances at the hallway as puts his hand on the back of his neck, then looks back at you, trying to hold onto you while you squirm away, shaking. “I am nothing compared to Val. She’s- she’s- I’m worthless compared to her, and to everyone else you might’ve fucked or dated or- or-, I’m bound to disappoint you one day.”

Jesus Christ, he whispers, and it only spurs you on further as he starts to ask, “What are you-”.

Once again, you interrupt, not listening to a word he says, “Did you call her, hm? Are you gonna catch up today? Are you gonna fuck her? Is that why you want me out of here?” He closes his eyes and shakes his head, saying your name with a sigh you’ve never heard from him and you hate yourself even more for it, knowing you’ve passed the point of no return, knowing you’ve outed yourself as the ticking time bomb you are.

“I’m fucking done, Joel,” you hiss, pushing him away with a flat hand against his sternum, “I’m doing being your slampiece or whatever the fuck you see me as.” He sits down on the bed, takes his face in his hands and doesn’t watch you as you turn in the door.

“I never wanna fucking see you again,” you whisper, and you choke on your tears as you run down the stairs, unable to even think about Sarah in this moment, so beyond embarrassed about your complete freakout but high off the adrenaline, grabbing your keys and slamming the door shut behind you, running out into the wet driveway with no shoes on. The rain is still pouring down as you get to your car, mumbling to yourself, why the fuck are you like this? Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Your vision blurs with tears and your hands shake so severely you can barely separate your car key from the rest as you fumble with your keychain, trying to get the hell out of here before you have to face Joel again.

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murdockjonescagerand · 8 months

Text

No One But Me

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previous chapter

You stared at the drain, watching the swirls of water and soap suds circle around its rim before disappearing down into darkness. You stood under the shower head and let the warm water cascade over your back. It was soothing, comforting. Until the water hit the throbbing and raw skin of your ass and your wrists.

You bit your lip and grimaced in pain. You had to endure it if you wanted to be clean, to wash away the physical evidence of the shame and degradation of what Joel forced upon you. Using a washcloth you gingerly wiped away the cum that had dried on your backside. You had not been brave enough to assess the damage in the mirror just yet, but when you grazed your fingertips over the area you had an idea of just how bad it was.

Your body felt so weak, so tired. When you were finished washing away Joel's cum you moved the washcloth down to your vulva. You whimpered as you carefully cleaned yourself, the minute tears at the entrance of your vagina stinging. Your walls ached.

When you were done you leaned your forehead against the tiled wall with your eyes closed. You were sure you could fall asleep standing where you were - and you probably would - if not for the shower gradually turning more and more cold. You turned off the taps and stepped out of the shower to dry yourself with a towel, mindful of the angry raised welts on the cheeks of your ass.

Instead of dressing into a new set of pyjamas, you slipped naked into your bed and under the blanket. You positioned yourself on your side so that nothing was touching your back, scared to aggravate your injuries. You pulled your pillow into your stomach and curled up like a ball around it and cried. Eventually you succumbed to the fatigue and fell into a heavy sleep.

******

The following morning you somehow managed to wake up on time, get dressed, eat an apple for breakfast, and then arrive for your teaching lesson five minutes early. You appeared fresh faced and energetic, but inwardly you felt as though you were close to dissociating, teetering between numbness and hysteria.

In the classroom you avoided sitting down. You stood for the whole lesson as you taught the children about the lifecycles of insects, utilising the chalkboard and the book Maude had found you at the library. And even though the cuffs of your blouse were rubbing against your hidden wrists and irritating the skin there, you tried hard to focus on the lesson and be present, to adopt the calm, nurturing persona that the children knew you by. It wouldn't be fair to them if you cracked now, if you showed them a chink in the amour, not when they trusted you and loved you as their caretaker and teacher. This job gave you a purpose and sense of stability and you were adamant not to let Joel ruin that for you now.

When it was time for lunch and the school bell rang in the corridor, the children all scrambled out of the classroom to go eat their lunches and play outside. As soon as you were alone in the room you let out a heavy sigh of relief, grateful for the opportunity to unmask.

You tried to sit down in the chair at your desk, gingerly positioning yourself on the edge, half off the seat. You hissed at the dull pain thrumming in the meat of your ass and gripped onto the desk for support. Fuck, you wouldn't be surprised if you were bleeding right now.

You hesitantly leaned forward to rest your elbows on the desk, then cradled your head in your hands. You sighed again and let the muscles in your body sag a little.

You were unable to fully relax as your mind began to project flashbacks of last night; images of Joel's face, the sensations of his body, the sounds of the whip cracking your flash, of his hips smacking against yours, all burned into your memory.

The depth of pain you felt, both physically and emotionally, was unprecedented in your relationship with Joel. Yes, he had always been rough, at times uncaring of your comfort, but the hurt he had inflicted upon you last night was the first time he had ever genuinely frightened you.

You were well aware that he could be ruthless, that he was capable of great cruelty - you'd heard the rumours of his past as an infamous raider. And although Joel never talked about his past you quickly surmised that he had committed some acts of unspeakable violence.

You had heard the snippets of gossip about his barbaric pragmatism as a patrolman, too. The ways he would execute raiders and kill infected without a sliver of hesitation, the sniper like precision of his marksmanship, his ability to kill someone with his bare hands.

His violent reputation was justified and had earned him the respect (and even a bit of fear) of every person in Jackson, including yours. Perhaps the foreboding mystique surrounding Joel added to the allure you felt for him. Maybe you were even drawn to the sense of danger he exuded.

But despite this attraction, you couldn't ever have imagined him directing an ounce of rage or hostility towards you. You had never witnessed the extent of his dark side first hand. Not until you were confronted with his icy glare in your bedroom and the subsequent punishment of his belt. The depraved rage you saw in his eyes last night was now seared into your very core. Your splintered heart was wounded and fearful.

Joel had never been overtly considerate or encouraging of your emotions. He never really asked you what you were feeling or what you wanted (unless he was fucking you in that moment). Early on in the relationship, or whatever it was that you and Joel shared, you had accepted that he was not as expressive or emotionally open as you wished. But you understood it was just who he was, either through natural temperament or from the years of struggle and survival in this world, or both.

There were times when Joel had been tender and affectionate, though, especially in the beginning. Sacred moments that you both dare not openly acknowledge. Like in the middle of the night when you were both snuggled under the sheets and he would pull you close to his chest, wrap you in his strong arms, and kiss the top of your head. The blissful pockets of physical affection were enough to placate you for a while, until your heart could no longer repress it's hunger for more. The yearning for unconditional love, a family of your own, someone to share your life with.

You didn't know if he ever loved you or truly cared about you. But if he had not, why was he so possessive?

You had discovered the jealous streak of his personality quite quickly. The subtle displays of displeasure - the flare of his nostrils, the hard set of his jaw, the flash of anger in his eyes, whenever a man even looked your way. You used to find it sort of endearing. It made you feel wanted.

In a public setting no one would guess that Joel would be stealthily watching you and taking note of who you were interacting with and your body language. No one seemed to realise that Joel was an expert at appearing nonchalant while observing and absorbing every thing in his surrounding environment, constantly vigilant. Protecting what was his.

If he saw a man, regardless of age, had struck up conversation with you at the Tipsy Bison or the cafeteria, Joel would be sure to chastise you later on. It didn't matter that you weren't interested in anyone but him. It didn't matter that you only politely responded in a way that indicated you weren't interested. That wasn't enough for Joel.

As you became more attached to Joel and more expressive with your affection, it seemed Joel became more aggressive with your body. What started as light dirty talk during sex progressed into an exercise of control and sacrifice, with Joel fucking you mercilessly and covering your body with hickies and bruises with an almost obsessive need to stake his claim.

He hated anyone being too close to you. He would have preferred you to be completely isolated from everyone else, focused only on tending to he and Ellie. He dislikes your dedication to your duties and your preoccupation with your friends, who he disapproved of. Joel criticised them for being too loud or opinionated, accusing them of being too promiscuous. You knew he genuinely considered a couple of them to be bad influences just because they talked about sex and dating.

But how could Joel be so jealous when he didn't want to make your relationship official? Was it just sex to him? Why did he want to control you so much yet refuse to publicly assert his ownership? His greed only reinforced the validity of that tiny niggling belief that had been buried inside your heart since the day you lost your family. The notion that you would always be alone. That you did not deserve to be happy. That you were worthless.

And what was worse....you still loved Joel. Despite the agony he had inflicted, you still fucking wanted him.

Maybe you were just fucking broken. Irretrievably broken.

The flurry of thoughts and questions circulating in your mind was making you feel dizzy. You groaned and dug your palms into your eye sockets. You willed yourself not to start crying again.

Fuck fuck fuck I feel like I'm going crazy.

Then a knock at the wooden classroom door suddenly shattered your thoughts. Your head snapped up, startled to find Oscar standing at the door. He was wearing jeans and a slightly tattered dark blue sweater, a hand clutching the strap of a satchel slung over one shoulder. His eyes peered at you behind his round spectacles with a curious concern, his thick eyebrows knitted together.

"Hey," he cooed. "Mind if I come in?"

"Hi," you nodded and cleared your throat. "Yes, ofcourse."

You winced slightly at the croakiness of your voice and hoped Oscar didn't notice how fragile you sounded. You looked away and smoothed your hands over your blouse before sitting up straighter in an attempt to appear more composed. Oscar approached your desk with cautious slow steps, one leg limping slightly, the soles of his boots thudding across the floor.

You braced your hands on the desk and rose up from your chair, your lips pursed with anticipation of the painful sting of your flesh. You saw him open his mouth but you spoke before he could.

"Why are you here? How can I help you?"

"Well," Oscar came to stand at the desk but stayed a few steps away from you, a clear attempt to respect your space. He swung his satchel off of his shoulder and plonked it ontop of your desk. "I found something for you, actually."

You looked at him with an eyebrow raised quizzically. He looked back and grinned, his brown eyes shining with warmth. Your eyes flickered down to the bag as Oscar flipped open the satchel and reached in. From it's confines he retrieved a hard cover book. You instantly recognised the tiny pictures of different insects decorating the spine of the book, and your mouth fell open in surprise.

"Oscar, is that--"

"Kids Bug Science Volume III," Oscar announced proudly with a chuckle, holding up the book with both hands for you to see the cover. It was the next installment of the insect series you had been using to teach with, a resource you hadn't thought you'd ever be lucky enough to find.

"Oh my gosh, no way!" You laughed, a hand shooting up to cover the large smile you were unable to hold back. Your eyes looked from the book to Oscar in wonderment. "Where did you find it?"

"Well, I was rummaging around the storeroom crawl space, trying to fix a wire, and I found a bunch of books up there." Oscar held the book out for you to take. "This was one of 'em."

You accepted the book and held it in your hands, your thumbs tracing over the cover. "I can't believe it,' you whispered.

"I'm sorry I couldn't wait until your next shift at the library," Oscar said, sounding slightly sheepish. "Got excited when I saw it and wanted to give it to you straight away."

You looked up from the book and met his gaze. There was a gentle expression in his beautiful brown eyes now, a mix of shy affection and sadness.

"Thank you," you said softly as you clutched the book to your chest. "Really. I appreciate this so much."

Oscar nodded once and looked down before adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

"You're welcome." He collected his satchel and hitched it back over his shoulder. "I know it means alot to you. And for the kids."

You put the book down on your desk and chewed your bottom lip, unsure what to say next. You were worried that he could somehow detect what had happened with Joel, like there was some visible sign on your face that announced how much of a slut you were, how Joel made you cum so hard after abusing you, how disgusting you were to still have feelings for a man who degraded you. Your cheeks blushed involuntarily.

Suddenly the thought of Joel somehow seeing you right now, alone with Oscar in your classroom, pierced through your mind and filled your stomach with dread. You tried to swallow but your throat felt so dry. Oscar noticed the change in your expression and leaned in closer towards you immediately.

"Hey, are you okay?" He asked, his tone soft but serious.

"Yeah, I'm okay," you replied in a small voice, avoiding his gaze. "I'm just a bit tired."

Oscar placed a tentative hand on your shoulder. The unexpected contact made you stiffen a little and your face turned up to look at him. He was looking down at you, his hooded brown eyes studying your face, both his orbs shifting between yours, as if searching for something. The tender concern in his expression made you feel like lunging into his arms to feel him hold you and comfort you.

"You can tell me anything, like if something's bothering you," he said quietly. "Only if you want to, ofcourse. I'm here, if you would like to talk."

"Okay," you whispered. "Thank you, Oscar."

You remained staring at one another with Oscar's warm hand on your shoulder, the silence between you feeling increasingly intimate as each second passed. You were sure Oscar felt it too; it was evident in the way his eyes bored into yours, how his mouth opened slightly and his tongue darted over his bottom lip.

Without warning a loud knock at the classroom door came crashing through the private bubble surrounding you and Oscar, making you both step back from one another with instinctive haste. It was one of your students, a little boy, who suddenly began to ramble loudly about one of the soccer balls deflating again.

"Whoa, slow down little man. I'll be there in a minute with the pump," you replied.

He nodded enthusiastically and then ran back outside to the yard. You and Oscar glanced back at each other and breathed a small laugh together, the tension relieved between you.

"I better go," he ran a hand through his curly black hair. "Sorry for interrupting your day."

"Why are you saying sorry?" You turned your body to face him and smiled. "Thank you. For thinking of me and coming by and to give me the book. It'll be so useful in my next few lessons."

Oscar returned your smile. "Anytime. Well then...I guess I'll see you at the library sometime?"

His thick eyebrows raised and there was a slight inquisitive lilt to his voice, as if he was wanting confirmation that he would actually see you again.

"Yeah, ofcourse. My next shift is in two days," you replied, reaching up to tuck a stray hair behind your ear.

"Great," Oscar said, his eyes roaming over your face and hair for a brief moment, his own features unreadable to you. "I'll see ya then."

He turned on his heel and you watched him walk back to the door, his limp slightly more prominent now because he stood taller, his posture more straight, prouder. When he disappeared through the threshold you looked down at the book and traced the cover with your fingertips. Although you had only spent a short time with Oscar, you had never known a man to be so considerate, so caring.

It was new. And it felt good.

It was only when he was gone that you realised you could still smell the faint cinnamon scent around you, the smell that you would eventually come to associate with Oscar.

******

After finishing at the school that afternoon you walked across the townships to visit Maude at her cottage. You sunk into the cushion of an armchair in her loungeroom while her housemate, another elderly lady, served you cups of tea. You spent an hour listening to them detail Maude's sickness and the type of medicine the doctor prescribed her, how her housemate tended to her day and night, and how caring Tommy and Maria had been. It was close to dinner time when you said goodbye and left to go home.

You tucked the science book into the crook of your arm as you strolled through the back streets toward your cottage, consciously avoiding the busier sections of the streets in order to reach home quicker.

You weren't in the mood to eat dinner in the mess hall this evening. You did not feel energetic enough to socialise with anyone or to continue masking the force of emotions plaguing your insides. You had no appetite, anyway. The girls would probably wonder where you were but that didn't matter. They knew you were more introverted, more content with retreating into your own world than socialising unnecessarily, especially at meal times.

You could visualise yourself curled up in bed under the comforting weight of your blanket with a favourite book in your hand. It was exactly what you needed.

When you arrived at your home you were surprised to see Ellie sitting on your porch, her legs crossed. She was tossing a pocketknife into the air and catching it in one hand with practiced ease. You always secretly enjoyed seeing her relaxed like this, so carefree and youthful. When her face was pulled into her large, charming smile and her eyes sparkled mischievously.

Her heart flooded with great affection for Ellie when you were reminded of just how soft she was inside. She could always make you laugh with some silly joke or her vulgar humour. You were always pleased to see her, except today was different. She reminded you too much of Joel.

"Hey," you greeted her, trying your best to sound upbeat as you trudged up to the porch. "What're you doing on my property, kiddo?"

"Hey!" Ellie grinned at you. She scrambled to stand up and jammed the knife back in her jeans pocket. "Wanted to know if you wanna get dinner together. I needa pick your brain about some comic ideas I got going on."

You pinched your eyes shut and sighed.

"Oh El," you murmured quietly. "I'm not really up for hanging out tonight, I'm sorry."

You swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat immediately after the words left your mouth. You should've known this was coming. The inevitable first time you would disappoint Ellie because you couldn't face being reminded of Joel.

"Oh," Ellie mumbled. "You okay? You look kinda pale."

You looked at her and mustered a weak smile.

"Yeah, I'm just super tired. Busy day at school."

Ellie puffed her cheeks and exhaled a breath of air then looked down. Her disappointment was evident.

"'Kay," she kicked at some sawdust on your porch. "Maybe next time, I guess."

Seeing Ellie look so dejected made you feel even worse. You knew she had struggled for so long - struggled to fit into the community, to adjust to life outside the QZ, to grow into a young woman without the guidance of a mother. You understood that she craved connection and acceptance more than she would ever willingly admit. Ellie had come to trust you and respect you enough to let her vulnerability occasionally peek through. You couldn't let her down like this, not when she wanted to share something or part of herself with you.

You sighed and reached out to grab her hand. Her eyes shifted up to meet yours.

"El," you squeezed her small hand gently. "I'd love to. Just let me put this book inside first."

Ellie's face instantly lit up.

"Cool." She glanced at the science book you were holding and scrunched her nose. "The fuck is bug science?"

******

As you walked side by side through the mess hall doors, you were attentively listening to Ellie describe the new character she had created for the comic book she was working on. It was only after collecting a meal tray from the serving counter that you noticed the group of rangers already seated across the hall.

Their loud conversation, which was occasionally punctuated with booming laughter, compelled you and Ellie to turn and look in their direction.

"Geez, who the fuck is being so loud?" She muttered in annoyance.

You spotted the five men sitting at a round table near the back of the hall, their broad shoulders and thick arms occupying the space with You recognised them as being the senior patrolmen of Jackson, including Troy, Tommy and Joel.

Joel.

When your eyes found Joel you saw he was already watching you and Ellie, chewing the inside of his cheek, the expression in his eyes unreadable. He was the only one of them not talking or joking as he absentmindedly poked at his food with a fork.

Your pulse began to race and your cheeks flushed. You gripped your fingers around the dinner tray tightly and quickly lowered your gaze in submissive humility, the depressing mixture of shame and fear once again engulfing you whole. You wanted so badly to run away and hide. But you knew you couldn't. You felt frozen, like a deer in the headlights. You shouldn't have given into Ellie so easily, you should've just run inside the house and--

"Ugh, nevermind, it's just Joel and his girlfriends." Ellie said with a roll of her eyes. She jerked her head towards a free table nearby. "Come on, let's sit."

When you didn't move, Ellie bumped your hip with hers playfully. "Hey, hurry up, before someone steals our table."

You suppressed the panic induced bile rising in your throat and followed Ellie to a table, the cutlery on your tray clanking from the jittery shaking of your hands.

******

Goddamn, you look pretty today.

Joel watched you take a seat at one of the tables with careful deliberation. You were positioned sideways from his line of vision, your face obscured by a section of hair that had fallen loose from the purple ribbon you had tied around it. He could see how your body tensed up, your back stiff, as if bracing for pain.

Well, you must be in pain, after what he did to you last night.

A sense of pride then bloomed in his chest and he wished he could see your face clearly. The memory of you positioned on your knees below him, your wrists bound, your whipped ass jiggling as he assaulted you, flashed through his mind. It made Joel's cock twitch in his jeans.

Fuck, he wanted to have you again, right now.

Troy leaned forward into the table and clicked his fingers quickly to get the attention of the other men. Joel and the others looked at Troy.

"Hey," he hissed, "see that pretty little mouse with Joel's daughter, over there?"

Troy nodded his head toward where you sat with Ellie. The other rangers, including Joel, shifted their gaze over to you. You toyed with your fork, your head nodding at something Ellie was saying. You were totally oblivious to their stares.

Always so innocent.

"Estrada was eatin' with her the other day." Troy murmured slyly. "Ya think he might be screwin' her?"

The lewd question caught Joel off guard, making his breath catch in his throat. Hearing someone talk about you in such a crude way provoked a boiling rage to course through his veins. He clenched his jaw and flexed his fist under the table discreetly. He was ready to punch Troy in his stupid fucking face.

A few of them sniggered before they all turned their attention back to their trays of food.

"Estrada?" One of the patrolmen, Harry, scoffed. "I thought he was gay."

"He ain't gay," Tommy interjected, rolling his eyes. "Fuck sake, man."

"Since when does Estrada get pussy like that?" Harry grumbled.

Joel listened closely to what was being said while stabbing his food with his fork, feigning disinterest. The muscle in his jaw ticked. Tommy glanced at him.

"Since he stopped workin' patrol, I guess. He must have more time to waste chasin' tail now," another of them guffawed.

"Hey now, enough of that talk," Tommy ordered firmly. "They just work together, is all. So give it a rest."

Troy held up his hands in front of him in a pose of surrender. "Alright, alright, el capitan, just shootin' the shit is all."

Joel couldn't take it anymore. He dropped his fork down onto the tray with a clang, then pushed his chair away from the table and stood up unceremoniously.

"Hey, where you--" Tommy began.

"Finished," Joel grunted.

He stalked out of the mess hall without another word, shoving the door open and stepping out into the starry night. Joel shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and trudged down the street away from the mess hall. His senses felt heightened, as if he were close to imploding, as the fury seethed throughout his body.

He fucking hated anyone talking about you like they did. Like you were some piece of meat. Like you could ever belong to anyone but him. It pissed Joel off so much that he had to leave; he couldn't trust himself not to beat the shit out of Troy or Harry or any of the others. Tommy would kill him. Joel stormed on towards his house with his chest heaving from impotent rage.

Fuck what anyone else thought. You were his. He knew it, and you knew it. He had made sure of that. That's all that mattered.

And he was giving you time to come back to him on your own accord, to get over this little phase of insolence. You would learn your lesson and realise where your rightful place was. You would come crawling back to him - willingly.

Wouldn't you?

Yes. Ofcourse. You needed him. Just as you needed Ellie and she needed you.

You couldn't just leave. No fucking way.

He was almost home when Joel became aware that his heart was pounding and his breathing was becoming more rapid. His throat felt dry and his chest felt constricted. He managed to make it to his house in time to lurch against his front door and let his weight stabilise against it. His eyes screwed shut and he pressed his forehead against the wood. He inhaled a deep breath, then exhaled, then repeated the step, all the while waiting for the panic to dissipate. He was grateful for the dark of the night, the privacy it allowed.

After a few minutes Joel was able to regulate his breathing and calm down. The tightness in his chest loosened. He calmly unlocked the door and ambled inside the living room. He had already decided he was getting drunk tonight. And he would be paying you another visit.

taglist - @sofiparallel @harriedandharassed

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murdockjonescagerand · 8 months

Text

𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒.

DAY SEVEN OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: cosmic horror au + western au + "you're a fucking nightmare. kiss me."

pairing: jack daniels x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, soft enemies to lovers

summary: with celestial dancers ensnaring victims with entrancing performances that lead innocents away from their homes. Jack and you, cowboy sheriffs with a history of discord, leave town in search of the missing people.

word count: 3.5k

warnings: daddy kink, mirror sex (kinda there's a mist that imitates your desires and copies your movements so technically it's like a mirror but without a reflective surface), outdoor sex, piv, hint of horror imagery, dirty talk, size kink (jack is a big boy in every universe fight me)

a/n: sorry y'all this is unedited but hopefully i didn't make too many mistakes! enjoy xx

“I still don’t understand why we need to go together. I’m completely capable on my own.”

On cue, Starlight whinnies and shakes her head, her disagreement apparent. You frown at the horse, “You’re supposed to be on my side,” you quip, refusing to look at Jack whose laughter rings out.

The lanterns you have on each horse illuminate the road ahead but do little in actually illuminating your surroundings. Shadows linger in every corner. The sky, despite still having the sun up, is a dusty copper, dark clouds swirling and forming shape of all watching eyes. The world had become an odd place. Humans were mere ants now, easy to crush beneath the forces out of your control. Distance between towns had become wide, each town having deputies to protect the innocents within. Dangerous weapons had been forged to fight against the evil and given to every sherrif in town.

Lately people have been gone missing. In the dead of night celestial dancers would just stand at the edge of town, ensnaring victims with entrancing performances to take them far away from their homes. You didn’t ask what these dancers did to the ones they captured, you assumed it wasn’t anything pleasant.

You and Jack being the more talented sheriffs of the town had been picked to locate said missing people. The further you two traversed away from town, the more menacing and confusing the world around you became. The darkness moves. Creatures of all kinds snarling and drooling within the deep forests.

“I know you’re capable, sugar,” Jack remarks, he expertly guides his horse, bringing the two of you into closer proximity. The rhythmic sound of hooves fills the air as you draw near. “But you must admit, this is a dangerous job.”

You only shrug, “Beats being here with you.”

“You hate me that much that you’d be willin’ to die?” he says with a lazy grin. “That’s a bit extreme, even for you.”

“I doubt this is going to be that hard. You just like teasing me.”

“Hmmm maybe. . . but I blame you for that, sugar. You’re too fun to tease.”

A loud sigh parts your lips and you shake your head. Jack was and always will be insufferable. In all honesty, Jack wasn’t so bad. He just had a talent for getting under your skin. But you had to admit, your frustrations with him had been shifting into something else, something like desire, for a while now.

Your fingers tighten around the reins. You’ve been trying really hard to ignore the flutter in your stomach whenever he was around, you’d never hear the end of it if he figured it out.

“Shut up,” you grumble, lowering the front of your hat. “You’re incorrigible.” You glance over at Jack, who's trying to stifle his laughter but failing miserably. Your frown deepens.

“Incorrigible?” he snorts. “So sophisticated with your insults today, should I be flattered?”

“I’m just running out of words to insult you with.”

His smile falters slightly, annoyance creasing between his brows, “Funny.”

Jack’s annoyance brings a smile to your face. You’re about to say more, eager to get under his skin just like he does yours, but suddenly he lifts a hand and halts his horse. You do the same, tightening the reins until Starlight comes to a full stop.

He presses his forefinger slowly to his lips and points ahead with the other. Goosebumps raising across your skin, your gaze turns to the dirt road.

There’s nothing.

Until there’s something.

The first thing you notice is the eyes; they’re red dots, gleaming and staring into your soul.

Then you notice the antlers sprouting from behind the skull of the long figure. Two of them curling around its jaw. It's wearing a long cloak, the type similar to what you and Jack wear when the weather is turning cold. The light of your lanterns reflects on the figure,

Panic flaring in your gut, your eyes snap to Jack. He’s only staring. Calm and steady. “Look down,” he mouths without looking at you.

The silence is deafening. You look at the eerie figure again, its hand now stretched towards you both as if beckoning you to come closer. It’s a bony hand, a sickly grayish-green. You hold your breath and lower your gaze. Your lids flutter in surprise as you notice the sheep at the figure's feet. They have horns just like him, and have the same glowing red eyes. The animals stare at you, not a sound coming from them.

Shepard of the Voidborne, your mind whispers to you. You were told that he was once human and after being driven out of his mind, became one of the cosmic horrors that lurked all around. He had his sheep and that was pretty much it. He only came out during the night. The shepard was harmless for the most part but if you made a sound or attacked, your death was immediate.

The tricky part was that you had to sense him before he came. You had to catch the stillness of the wind, the sudden silence that befell, and the scent of the dead.

You didn’t notice any of that.

But Jack had.

The Shepard and his sheep stare at you long enough that it feels like forever. He never lowers his hand, the invite always there if you were stupid enough to take it.

You fight against letting out a breath of relief when he finally turns away, the sheep mimicking him. Fear coating your tongue, you close your eyes and focus on your heartbeat instead, willing it to become silent.

He doesn’t make a sound as he leaves and you only realize that when Jack gently touches your cheek, pulling you back to reality.

“He’s gone, darlin’,” he says surprisingly soft. “You’re safe.”

His fingers curl towards the back of your ear, palm cradling the side of your face, warmth spreads. Your breath hitches and you quickly avert your gaze, “I see that,” you say sharply. “Let’s go.”

“Lead the way, ma’am,” Jack muses as you do exactly that, his gaze glinting with mischief.

You try not to think about the lingering warmth left on your cheek.

The horses are tethered nearby, and the lanterns cast a warm glow around your small circle of safety. You set up a modest fire, its crackling flames pushing back the encroaching darkness.

Jack produces a bottle of whiskey from his saddlebag. He uncorks it and offers it to you with a grin. "Care for a drink, sugar? I figure we've earned."

You accept the offer, taking the bottle and taking a long, deep swig before passing it back. The warm burn of the whiskey helps chase away the lingering chill of fear from your encounter with the Shepard.

Jack settles down beside you, close enough that your shoulders brush. He gazes into the flames, lost in thought for a moment. Then, he turns his attention to you, his eyes softening with concern. "You okay, sugar?"

“I guess,” you mutter. “I didn’t notice him.”

“Who? The Shepard?”

You nod and he shrugs, “He’s a hard bastard to notice. It ain’t your fault.”

“That’s not an excuse. I should’ve sensed him. . . somehow.”

He chuckles softly, his fingers idly tracing patterns in the dirt. "Well, you know, I've got the devil's luck. Besides, I've got you to watch my back. When I’m with you I’m more alert, darlin’."

“So you really do think I’m incompetent?”

Sitting by the fire, you both share the bottle, taking turns. You can't help but notice how the flickering firelight plays across Jack's features, casting his rugged face in a warm, inviting glow. You feel slightly ashamed for how you’re acting. Deep down you know this has nothing to do with Jack thinking you’re not good enough, but with the growing knot in your stomach, you need to divert your emotions into something more violent.

“The only thing I know is that I wanna protect you more than I want to do myself.”

Your heart skips a beat, your breath suddenly coming in short and fast. You swallow around the knot quickly forming in your throat.

"Well, aren't you just a regular knight in shining armor?" you huff in mock annoyance, attempting to lighten the weight of his words.

But Jack doesn't take the bait this time. Instead, he surprises you with a genuine, soft smile. "You're strong, no doubt about it. But even the strongest folks deserve a bit of pampering now and then, don't they?"

You're momentarily taken aback by his sincerity, the hint of vulnerability. Jack reaches out and gently brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch feather-light.

"Jack, you don't have to treat me like I'm made of glass," you murmur, your irritation fading as you meet his warm gaze.

He leans in a little closer, his voice barely above a whisper. Your eyes drop to his lips and move back to meet his gaze again."I know you're tough as nails, but that doesn't mean I can't be here for you. We all need someone to lean on, sugar."

You find yourself lost in his eyes, the flickering firelight dancing in them, and for a moment, you let your guard down.

"You're a fucking nightmare,” you smile, heart rapid in your chest. “Kiss me."

The chaos, the darkness, the shadows—all of it stands still. Jack closes the distance, soft lips covering yours, his tongue traces the seam of your lips. He’s not at all how you imagined. He’s not rushing you. Instead, he’s taking his sweet time memorizing the curve of your lips with the tip of his tongue.

Only when you moan does he slip his tongue between your swollen lips, licking himself further into your mouth. He cradles your face with both hands, thumbs moving down as if tracing tear streaks down your cheeks.

Neither of you notices the thick fog starting to accumulate around you. A sinister whisper crackling within the gray. It settles around you. Listening to your needy whimpers and Jack’s groans—it observes, takes in the desire reflected in your features, and shapes begin to form.

The fire goes out with a loud sizzle.

“Fuck—” Jack hisses, pulling away, hand moving to grab his gun. He pulls you close. You’re still tasting him on your lips, dazed and confused as to what’s happening. There’s a moment of silence between you two, your surroundings illuminated only by the lanterns.

The fog is unnaturally thick. You hear sounds; breathy and intoxicating. The voices grow louder, a tingle spreads over the back of your neck, and you notice that they’re oddly familiar—

Your cheeks burn when you notice they’re the sound of your moans. Both Jack’s and yours. The shapes are still forming, only mere silhouettes of two people perched on top of a log, their poses the same as yours.

“Eidolon Veil,” you mumble, drawing Jack’s attention to you. “I heard of it, never actually saw it before.”

“What is it?” he grunts a response, hand still on your waist. “And why the hell is it moanin’?”

“It’s harmless,” you answer. “It’s a reflective fog that takes the shape of those within its circle and mimics their desires as well.”

Jack snorts, lowering his gun, “So what, you’re tellin’ me this mist is gonna show us fuckin’ like rabbits soon?”

You turn to him, a hint of mischief in your eyes, “If that’s what you desire, then yes,” you grin. “Though the image becomes vivid only if the people actually go through with it. If not it’ll only show a preview and move on to its next target,” you raise an eyebrow at him. “You really don’t know what it is?”

“I don’t research the creepy crawlies as much as you do,” he croaks. “Are you sure it’s harmless? In this world nothin’ is.”

“I think it has to do with substance,” you say. “Desire keeps it from dissolving entirely. So it’s basically looking for food.”

An especially sharp moan echoes from the mist and you involuntarily press your thighs together, arousal growing between your legs. Jack also shudders at the sound. He palms himself through his pants, your eyes dropping to where his cock strains against the thick fabric.

“Let's give it something to choke on then.”

Throwing all caution into the wind, you two strip down eagerly, your mouths always a breath away. The figures within the fog become more tangible, you can see yourself clearly now, your face painted with want and arousal. You get on all fours and the mirage does the same, Jack is on his knees right behind you, hand slipping between your legs. He traces his fingers up and down soaked folds, circling your clit, you feel the heft of him over the curve of your ass.

Your breath hitches as he pushes two fingers into you, electricity crackles over your skin, a moan parting your lips further. The mirage mimics every sound and movement, and watching it turns you on in a way you didn’t think was possible.

“Fuck, look at you,” Jack coos. “Such a sight—and so darn wet.”

He fucks his fingers deeper into you and pulls them out slowly. Jack leans over to kiss the skin between your shoulder blades, the movement of his fingers slow as he works you open. Your head falls and you arch your back, wanting more. He doesn’t stop until you’re a sopping, trembling mess. Slick drips down his fingers and all the way down to his wrists.

When you look at the mirage, the Jack within the fog makes you taste yourself on his fingers.

Your Jack hums pleasantly, pulling out, he traces the plush of your lips with wet fingers before slipping them into your mouth. You suck eagerly, your cunt fluttering at the lewdness of it.

He cups your neck and pulls you up so that you’re flush against his chest, your pulse quickens as he presses his lips against your ear, “You think you can take me, darlin’?” he asks and kisses your cheek.

“Y–Yeah,” you whimper, the fog echoing your answer.

You haven’t gotten a good look at him yet but you do feel him. He’s thick and hard, dragging his cock up and down your slit. You shudder as the head catches against your clit, making you gasp. “You’re drippin’ sweetheart,” he says with a grin, breath tickling your neck. “And you’re shakin’, worried I’m too big?”

His voice drips with sarcasm and glee, he teases your entrance with the head, smearing precome over the sensitive skin. You gasp and feel your nipples tighten, without thinking you spread your legs further.

“Yes!” your mirage echoes your thoughts. You let out a deep exhale, blood rushing to your cheeks. “You’re so big, Jack—It won’t fit. . .”

“Is that right now?” he murmurs, dragging the curve of his nose down your neck. “You say it. I want to hear your voice.”

You clear your throat. Beads of sweat gather at your tailbone, “Y–You’re big,” you whimper and as a reward he cups both your breasts, playing with your nipples. “I don’t know if it’ll fit. It’s been a while.”

He takes a sharp inhale, “I’ll make it fit,” he growls, exhaling his breath simultaneously.

With that, Jack sinks into you.

He sucks on your neck and continues to gently pinch your nipples, waiting for your to adjust to his size. “That’s it,” he purrs, licking the salt from your skin. “You feel so good around me, sugar. Look at how fucked out you look already.”

He holds your jaw and tilts your head up, you clench as you see yourself. He was right. You look utterly fucked out; kiss-swollen lips parted, chest heaving and glistening with sweat.

“Jack,” you whimper. “Move, please.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” he soothes you, lips pressing against your neck before letting you go. Your palms fall to the ground. “You’re made for me, pretty girl, don’t you forget it.”

Before you can say anything, he pulls back his hips and slams into you with force. Your fingers dig into the soil, your body going rigid before becoming loose again. Jack fucks you thoroughly, slowing down while pulling out only to snap forward. He’s loud. Growls and grunts bouncing off of his clenched teeth, he holds on to your waist and the mirage echoes it.

With every thrust, he knocks the air from your lungs. Pleasure swirls in your stomach, shirt circuits your brain. Your lips part wide with a series of moans, your breasts tingling. Your senses narrow on the way his cock fills you, how deep he is inside, and how you just want to scream—not his name necessarily, but something you can address him as.

With both your and your mirage's moans getting louder and louder, your mind whirls. You’re gushing with every thrust, your orgasm rapidly building.

Daddy, your mind suddenly shouts. Your body tenses, your cunt squeezing around him in away that it forces the slows of his thrust. Jack groans at the overwhelming tightness, his cock pulsing. You watch the mirrored reflection, see the veins popping in his neck, see the debauched look of his face.

Daddy.

“F-Fuck—” you rasp when Jack resumes his thrust, faster and harder than before. He smacks your ass, pain blossoming over the skin.

Then suddenly you hear it.

It’s your voice but not your lips that moves.

“Again—Daddy—” the voice is strained, as if your replica is equally as embarrassed as you are.

He stops and you see his confusion in the fog. “W-What?” he murmurs. You shake your head, your frustration growing as you press your lips tight together. Jack smoothes his palm over your back. “What did you just call me, sugar?”

You clear your throat, “Technically it wasn’t me,” you say weakly. Jack smiles as he drags blunt nails down your skin, your body reacts and arches towards him. You sigh. “It was a mistake.”

“Not it wasn’t,” he quips. “You said so remember? The thing about the veil mimicking our desires?” he doesn’t wait for your answer as he bends over, covering your body with his. He whispers, “You can call me, daddy, if you want to. I don’t mind, darlin’. In fact, I like it.”

You nod and he slowly drags himself out, and equally slowly pushes back in, “Use your words.”

“Yes, d-daddy,” you gasp, the word hits your tongue just right.

Jack draws back again, satisfaction pooling in his eyes. He grins and a part of you can’t help but feel flustered. “That’s what I want to hear,” he kisses the back of your shoulder and continue to move inside of you.

The sensation of his thick cock sliding in and out of you sends shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body. You moan in pleasure as your orgasm builds with each thrust. He grips your hips, thrusting harder and faster as your orgasm nears its peak. You can barely keep your balance as the waves of pleasure wash over you in a glorious chorus of bliss.

“Oh—daddy—” you sigh, your tongue loose. The fog picks up your moan, echoing your words. You bite your lip as his hands move from your hips to your chest, massaging your breast with each thrust.

“Look at that face,” he says with a moan, forcing your gaze up. “Gonna come for me, pretty girl?” he teases. You nod helplessly, your body burning from the inside out. “Then ask for it, sugar.”

“P-Please, daddy, make me come,” you moan, you’re pleasantly helpless under him. “Pleasepleaseplease—”

With one final thrust, you tip over the edge; your orgasm rattles through your body accompanied by a series of groans and daddy’s. Adrenaline rushes through your system—your toes curl, your neck arches and your eyes roll back as pleasure washes through you.

The mirage echoes every sound as Jack pumps his cum into you. He lifts you by the shoulder, forcing your head towards him as he claims your lips in a heated kiss. He swallows your moans, your whimpers and sucks your tongue until you’re compeltly pliant against him.

Once he’s finished, the fog starts to dissipate until it’s only the two of you, lying in the dirt, panting, the fire alive once again. Jack kisses the top of your head before pulling out, and you look away, his spend drips from you, making a mess between your thighs, your face heats up.

He tenderly cradles the side of your. Jack smiles and you can’t help but smile as well, burying your face into his palm.

“That was—damn,” you manage to say. You blink and sit up, looking around you. There’s nothing but darkness and the sound of crickets.

“Seems like your daddy took care of you,” Jack purrs, pecking your lips before pulling you into an embrace. You glare at him as he nuzzles your neck.

“If you mention that to anyone else I’ll kill you.”

He laughs whole heatedly, “I don’t kiss and tell, sweetheart. Don’t you worry that pretty head of yours.”

“So the Eidolon Veil moved on,” you say, changing the subject. “I guess it was well fed.”

“It seems like it,” he responds, kissing your forehead. Your heart flutters. “C’mere, let’s get you dressed before you catch a cold. We still have a whole lot of investigatin’ to do tomorrow.”

“Can’t we just stay like this? A little longer?”

He kisses your temple this time, his warmth seeping into your back. “‘Course we can, darlin’.”

You lean into his embrace and he manages to pull one of the blankets from his pack, covering you. Your eyes trail the stars in the sky.

Little moments of peace like this are worth savoring just a bit longer.

376 notes · View notes

murdockjonescagerand · 8 months

Text

Hunger.

7k, raider!Joel x f!reader

Raider master list ⭐ Joel master

raider playlist 🖤sweet pea (smutty)

His voice is low and husky. "Ever feel like ya just. . ." He meets your gaze with hungry eyes, then looks at your lips. "gotta have your mouth on somethin’?". . .his eyes fall down your body. You whisper "yeah," and begin to scoot off the table, but his hands on your hips hold you firmly in place. "Ain't talkin' 'bout you."

SUMMARY: Joel takes you on an eventful trek, and at the end of the day, he's hungry. WARNINGS: I8+ oral f receiving 🎉, unsafe P in V, creampie, brief violence maybe a little beyond canon-typical (og raider typical?), reader meltdown (pre-joel flashback, implied pet death) and comfort, discovery of neglected animal (he's ok), angst, dark fluff, emotional tension, POV changes. A/N: About 1/3 smut. Can read alone - Carter is Joel's right-hand man. Jack was your bf Joel killed.

—You 🌸🫛—

You're reading in a clover patch at one end of the trailer while Joel chops wood. Two of his men come up the hill, and Joel tells you to stay put while he talks to them. Even when Joel addresses you, they don't look in your direction. They stay in the doorway of the trailer. You put your book face down and start looking at the clovers while you try to eavesdrop. You can't hear what they're saying, but it sounds like someone might have tampered with one of the vans. You brush your hand through the leaves, and one catches your eye. Without plucking it, you gently separate it from the others to make sure it's not an illusion. There really are four leaves. You smile and get down on your stomach to look at it. You think about leaving it so it can grow more. That's what you did when you found one earlier in the week, but you pluck this one.

The men go back down the hill, and Joel goes inside for a moment before emerging again. You're laying the clover leaves flat between the pages of your book when Joel calls you inside. Then he leans against the trailer with an arm above his head, the side of his wrist resting near the top of the door frame as he waits for you. He's wearing a body holster now. "C'mon, let's go," he shouts so you can hear him.

"Ok," you call.

You just want to finish pressing the clover into the page, but he rushes you: "Now."

"What for," you ask.

"Cause I said." He disappears inside, and his back looks so broad, framed by the holster straps.

You come in and pout in the window nook with your book closed, waiting for him to explain. There's a belt on the kitchen table. Joel emerges from the bedroom and tells you he's going down the hill to help fix the van, and you're coming.

“Sure you’re good in that?” he asks. You nod. You like the dresses he gave you, and it’s still warm enough, you think. He confirms, “Sure ya won’t be too cold?” and you nod. He seems glad.

He approaches the kitchen table holding something strappy and leather. He pulls out a chair and faces you in the window nook.

"C'mere," he says. "Gonna carry your gun today."

"Oh," you put down the book. Sounds exciting. Sounds like he trusts you. "Yeah, sure," you try to play it cool. He takes your knees and swings your legs toward him.

"Gonna see if this piece'a shit's worth anything. If not, ya wear mine okay?" He thumbs the shoulder strap of his holster.

You frown and mutter, "I like when you wear it," eyeing the muscles straining his white shirt. He suppresses a smile, but you see it in his eyes.

"Gimme your leg," he commands. You give him your leg on your shooting side. You watch his face. He has a toothpick behind his ear. He bends your knee and puts your foot on his thigh. He lets the skirt of your dress fall all the way down your raised leg, exposing your panties. His eyes linger there, and he draws in a slow breath as he unbuckles the strap of the holster. He wraps the strap around your thigh and mutters, "good." He slides the strap into the buckle, then tightens it. "Too tight?" He asks.

"No." He fastens the buckle on your inner thigh, and grazes your skin with his fingers as he examines the fit, getting much closer to your panties than necessary.

There's a long ribbon dangling from the other end of the holster where another strap should be. He laces it through two hand made grommets on each side. There are two more empty holes on the top of each side.

"Here," you offer and take both ends of the ribbon from him. You tie it in a bow on the outside of your thigh.

"That gonna hold?" He asks.

You shrug. "Feels ok, what do you think?"

He's not listening. His eyes have returned between your legs. You spread them a little more, and innocently widen your eyes. He wets his lips, and his gaze remains for another inhale, then he pries his eyes away, sticks the toothpick in his mouth, and lets your foot down. You stand up and he hands you your gun, then adjusts himself, quickly cupping his crotch through his pants as you slide the gun into the holster.

"Walk," he mumbles.

You walk the length of the kitchen.

It's a weird sensation, having one of your legs burdened by a weight while the other one is free. But aside from that, it's fine.

"Alright?" He asks.

"Yeah."

He nods, "Good. C'mere." You stand right in front of him, between his knees. "Hold your dress up for me."

You hold it up over the holster.

"Higher. Belly button."

He grabs the belt from the table and when he picks it up, ribbons are dangling from its holes. The ribbons have their ends burned and melted like a shoelace for threading. He fastens the belt securely around your bare middle, then threads the loose ribbons through the empty grommets on the top of the holster and secures them.

He turns you to the side, tugs at the ribbon, and mutters, "good." Then he can't help but grab a handful of ass, and your bottom lip creeps under your teeth.

As he turns you to face him again, he takes the toothpick out of his mouth and gives you a serious look. "Comin' with me today, sweet pea. Ya do what I say, understand?"

You nod.

"I say get outta here, ya run. I say stay put, ya don't fuckin' move."

"Got it."

—-

He puts the toothpick behind his ear and picks up a few pieces of jerky off the counter as he stands up. He hands you a piece.

You take a bite and chew it as you walk down the hill. You watch his jaw flex when he chews. You tell him, "This one's good."

"Cause Carter made it," Joel notes. You cringe at yourself,but he doesn't seem offended. "Turkey," he adds.

Turkey, that's why. Much better than venison. You haven't had poultry in a while, not even grouse. Traps have been empty.

"I love yours," you tell him.

Joel gives you an appreciative pat on the back of your head, then his hand trails down your back, over the swell of your ass. He slides his hand under your dress and palms your butt cheek. He lifts it, then lets it drop.

Joel brings you around the front of the stash house where the vans are normally parked and tells you to wait. There’s only one van. One of the other guys took the second van to get gas and isn’t back yet.

You reach under your dress and adjust the holster as you sit down on a patch of grass to watch. Joel's muscles glisten and flex as he lifts the hood of the van and props it open. He looks around the inside of the van and dabs his head with a bandana that he tucks back into his pocket . He looks under the van while you pick tall blades of grass and braid them together.

When he's done, he tells you they need a part. Need to go to the junkyard and see if they can find one. You’re going with him and Carter on foot.

—

The junkyard is a few miles on the other side of Joel’s trailer. You go down that side of the hill and walk through the abandoned mobile home park to get there. It’s the first time you’ve seen most of it close-up, aside from through the scope of Joel’s rifle. The rest of the journey is mostly on a dirt road, and you have to climb through a fence to get into the junkyard.

It feels like you’re there for a long time. You hear the weak bark of a dog in the distance. Joel thinks it’s coming from the woods. It stops. There’s a house that looks abandoned, but Joel thinks there might be junkies in it. He says they gather around there. He’s even found one sleeping in a car. When Carter finds a part they think will work, they have trouble taking it off the truck. They don’t have the right tools. Brute force isn’t an option because it could easily break.

The three of you cautiously approach the house and the barking starts again. The structure is run down, and the windows are busted out. It’s small, can’t be more than a couple of rooms.

—--

As Carter sweeps the house, you go around back with Joel, and there's the dog. He's skinny and his bark is weak and strained. He's chained to a pipe on the side of the house. The pipe has been pulled a little bit outward so it's leaning, but he wasn't strong enough to free himself. He's a scrappy little mutt with a floppy ear. Probably less than 20 lbs (9 kg). You and Joel both stare at the dog, then Carter calls from inside, “Miller!”

Joel looks around to make sure you’ll be alright for a minute. “Don’t move. Stay alert. Hand on your gun.”

As Joel goes inside, Carter says, “Think he’s alive.”

“Infected?”Joel asks.

“Nah, see the track marks?”

“Piece’a shit left his dog to die.”

Outside, the dog watches you. He sits attentively with his head down. You put on a soothing voice for him. "Hey, buddy. Whatcha doin'?" He lowers his head almost to the ground as he slowly stretches his arms out, then his tail starts to wag hesitantly, staying close to the ground. He begins to whine. There are a couple of bones behind him with no meat left on them at all.

Carter comes out to watch you. There's a metal bowl upside down out of the dog's reach. "He needs water," you say. Carter looks around then reaches into his backpack and hands you his water. You pour some into the dish for the dog, and his tail begins to wag with more pep. When you reach out to touch the dog, he flinches and backs away, then cautiously returns and gets closer to you than he was.

Carter gets closer, and when he reaches out for the dog, it growls and barks ferociously. Carter isn't afraid–it's too small to be afraid of. He reaches for the dog's collar and the dog chomps his hand with a vicious growl, high pitched from his throat. He doesn't want to let go.

"DAMN!" Carter yells. "SHIT," he shakes his hand.

"No," you firmly tell the dog. The dog lowers his stomach onto the ground and raises his brows pathetically with a whine.

"He's just scared," you tell Carter as he rinses the wound with the rest of his water.

"I know, I know," Carter nods. He puts his water back in his backpack. "Feisty little fucker." He spits on the ground.

“We’ve gotta get him out of this,” you mutter.

Carter tries to stop you. “Don’t touch–”

You hold your hand out to the dog, and Carter sighs in resignation. The dog reaches his neck out to sniff you, then licks you. He lets you touch him. Then you touch his collar and he growls, but not as bad. The collar has inner spikes that must be hurting him. It's too big and has some slack hanging down from where it's been tightened.

Joel comes outside with a bag of tools clinking heavily against each other.

"What the hell's goin' on out here?" You give Carter a hopeful glance and he doesn't snitch on the dog for biting him.

You look at Joel. "He's gonna die if we don't get him free," you explain. Joel lunges toward the dog and you try to warn him, "WAIT-" Joel stops short of bending over and instead looks at you. The dog goes after his ankle, bearing his teeth and going nuts. Joel shakes his leg free. You tell the dog, “No" and he submits on the ground with a whine. Joel looks at the dog and raises his gun.

"You wouldn't," you whine. "He's protecting me."

“Course i wouldn’t. Damn.”

Joel steps closer and aims at the drain pipe behind the dog, shooting the chain to break it. It hurts your ears but it works. The dog yelps and skips out from the building, chain dragging behind him. Joel takes the bag of tools back to the truck where they found the part, leaving Carter with you while you try to free the dog.

"C'mere," you sit back on your knees and open your arms for the dog. With the freedom of movement, you can work the collar off him. The dog whimpers and paws at the collar with you. When he lets out a sharper, high pitched whimper, you freeze as it triggers a memory. Your chest feels hollow and long-buried grief stabs at the backs of your eyes. You push it away. You don't want to cry. You want to be tough and whatever else you need to be for Joel to always take you with him. The dog whimpers again and you return to the task. You free him from the collar and he trots away from the house.

— Joel ⛓️ —

When he gets back, the dog is playfully pawing at your knees. You scratch behind his ears and he rolls over. One look at your face and Joel knows what you want.

"Alright, let's go," Joel says and looks at the ground next to you. He steps forward and the dog growls. "It's ok," you tell the dog and you reach for Joel's hand.

“Maybe he wants to come with us,” you say as casually as you can.

Joel clenches his jaw and shakes his head.

"I can take care of him," you plead, your eyes big and watery. "He's not big, he doesn't need much."

Joel shifts his weight as he looks at you for a moment. "I know ya get bored-"

"Not because I'm bored," you protest. "He's hungry."

"No," Joel tells you firmly and your tears overflow. God damnit, not here. He's hungry because he was chained. He'll be fine now.

Joel doesn't want to share resources, doesn’t want the barking to attract attention, and doesn’t want someone to come after the dog–after you–if there’s anyone left to come. The junkie inside is as good as dead, but they run in packs and they’re dangerous.

"It's for your own good, sweet pea.” Joel really thinks it is.

You shake your head no. "I had one," you sniffle. "Before."

Joel’s nostrils flare at the shake of your head, then his stomach drops. He doesn't want to know about before. He does, but he really doesn't. He covers his mouth with the crook of his thumb as he rubs both sides of his beard. Before. It gets harder and harder to avoid. He shakes it off. All he can do is keep you safe and take care of you the best he can, which means taking care of only you. He shakes his head no again, then reaches into his backpack. He throws a piece of jerky as far as he can. “He’s fed, Gonna be fine.” He throws another piece.

You watch the dog run off for the jerky, but you're in a trance, thinking about something else.

“Let’s go, baby,” Joel steps forward, wraps a hand around the inside of your bicep, and gently pulls. You try to resist walking, and his grip gets firmer. You stand there watching the dog, feet planted on the ground, muscle tensing under Joel's grip.

Joel faces you and cups your face with both hands, making you look at him. He gets a few inches from your face and lowers his voice. “Ain’t gonna spank ya in front’a Carter, but ya better move.” He means it. Non-negotiable.

He grabs your arm again, and as he starts dragging you away, you blurt out, "Her name was Daisy. She saved my life."

Joel ignores it. “Move. Now. Or I’m pickin’ ya up.” You relent and stop resisting. Smart. He wouldn't want to regret bringing you with them.

Joel squints into the ground as the two of you walk. Carter walks ahead, not wanting to get in the middle of it. “Maybe this one could save me, too," you suggest. "if you’re gone.”

Damnit sweet pea, you sure are smart. Nice try, but that's what Carter is for.

"Dog that size?” Joel laughs. You compose yourself. You walk in silence for a few minutes, but Joel is still thinking about it. “How,” Joel asks, and adjusts his backpack. “How’d she save you? Must’a been bigger, right? meaner?”

Carter looks over his shoulder with a side-eye at the word “meaner,” but doesn’t reveal his injury.

You don’t answer Joel. You're checked out. He notices you keep eyeing the tree line, but you wouldn’t. . . There's no way you’d run, right?

You look at him with your eyes red. “You don’t wanna hear it.”

The vacant look on your face makes Joel stop in his tracks to face you. “Tell me,” he demands.

You sniffle and look toward the tree line again. “Can I go pee?”

Joel can’t read you right now, which disturbs him. “Yeah,” he mutters and puts his massive hand on your back, guiding you to the edge of the forest.

He starts to come in behind you, and you ask him, “Do you mind if I go?”

He swallows and furrows his brow as he looks at you. You must read his concern, because you hand him your bag. He nods. He steps into the woods, but tries to give you some space, without losing track of you. He doesn't wanna have to chase you down, but damnit he'll tackle you if he has to, to save you from yourself. His stomach is uneasy.

There’s a hollow, rusted truck about 30 paces away. You go on the other side of it. Joel knows you’re not just pouting about leaving the dog. There's more to this. But you’re right, he’s not sure if he wants to know.

Until he hears you sniffling, and it's not just sad, it's scared, painful.

Ah, fuck it. He moves as quietly as he can.

“Sweet pea,” he says softly as he walks around the old hollowed-out car. You’re squatting–not peeing, just hugging your knees, facing the abandoned car. You're shaking and your cheeks are wet. There's not much space, but Joel gets between you and the car. He takes his backpack off and drops it to the side.

“She wasn’t afraid like me, Daisy,” you choke out and wipe your cheeks with the heel of one palm. “They,” you croak. You pause and try again. “He had a gun-” you close your eyes. “Pointed at, pointed at me," you take a deep breath and keep your eyes pinched shut. "He was, he was gonna—but she wouldn’t," you choke on a breath. "She wouldn't stop barking.”

"Shhhhh, it's ok." Joel cuts you off. It's too hard to see you re-living this. He doesn't want you to get to the details. He squats down. His head is full of pressure, and his heart is full of rage. You take shaky, shallow breaths.

He puts a hand on your shoulder and lets his knees into the ground. “Breathe,” he says. “Breathe, sweet pea.” You lean forward, letting your weight into his arms, and he holds you for a minute as you regain your breath. He cradles your head. "Yeah, you're okay, I got ya." He buries his mouth in your hair. "I got ya, baby," he whispers. You wipe your eyes on his shoulder and your cheek catches on the holster. When you lift your head, you apologize and he shakes his head no. He brushes a fresh tear off your cheek, and arousal stirs in his pants.

“Who did it,” he asks, unable to mask the darkness in his question.

“Just a guy,” you tell him. A guy like himself, Joel assumes with disdain.

“What kinda guy”

You sigh and he hates making you think about this, but he needs the answer. “Mean. Had a gold tooth.”

Joel takes a deep breath and nods.

"FEDRA," you add, and Joel's face goes cold. His mind goes blank. For a moment, he doesn't even breathe as the life is sucked out of him and replaced by ice cold rage. FEDRA. Not a guy like him.

“How’d ya get away?” Joel asks.

You look at him for a second, doing a double take at his face. You shake your head. “You don’t wanna hear it." You bury your head in his neck again. You’re right, he doesn’t want to, but he insists.

“Tell me.”

“Jah–” you stop and look at Joel’s face. His jaw clenches. He knows what's coming, but the thought of FEDRA has fortified him with numbness.

“S’okay, sweet pea.”

“Jack shot’m.”

Joel takes a deep breath and looks up at the forest canopy, then bows his head and looks at your knees, bracketed by his own. For a moment, Joel is filled with an uncomfortable appreciation for Jack. But that fades into, no, it should have been Joel, he should’ve had you all along, he should’ve been there to save you *and* your dog.

“He take good care of ya?” Joel asks in self-loathing.

You shrug.

“Better than. . .now?” He can take it.

“No,” you shake your head. “He didn’t shoot him dead.”

Jackass fucking moron cuck. He left that motherfucker breathing? Suddenly Joel is glad he killed Jack.

Joel nods, “I see.” He keeps nodding slowly, looking to his right at the moss on a far off tree, clenching his jaw.

"And I didn't have a gun," you add. "Cause I killed a guy Jack said not to." Joel scoffs. You could've killed the guy yourself if not for Jack.

You continue, “and. . . Jack didn’t cook.” Joel chuckles, caught off guard -- he'd forgetten his original question. You keep going, “And he didn’t–I didn’t–I didn’t feel the same,” you wipe your eyes. This has gone far enough, and Joel knows it's his own fault. His stupid question. He takes the toothpick from behind his ear.

You look at him with your eyes all watery, and Joel's cock twitches. The next thing he knows, his massive hand is wrapped gently around your jaw. You put your hands on his shoulders, then straddle him. You wrap your arms around his neck.

"Mmm," he sighs as your warm crotch meets the bulge in his jeans, and he swells harder against you. He holds your face about two inches from his, looking down at your mouth, then your nose, and your eyes again. He puts his toothpick in his mouth and looks past you as he lets go of your jaw. You bury your head in his neck, blinking warm tears into his skin, making him harder. He whispers your name. He relaxes and takes the toothpick out of his mouth just in time for a branch to fall on the car with a loud clang.

"All good?" Carter yells from the treeline.

“Shouldn’t stay here long,” Joel mumbles as he puts it back behind his ear. ”Bad area.” He eases you off his lap back onto your feet, as you both stand up. He brushes dead leaves off his pants and your knees. He adjusts himself, puts his backpack over one shoulder, then reaches down and you take his hand. You walk a few steps together and he looks back at you slightly behind him. He realizes you’re shaking. He drops your hand, goes in his backpack, and pulls out a flannel that he packed even though you said you were fine. He unfolds it, holds it out, and helps you put it on.

“Thanks,” you whisper and rub your nose. He keeps his hand on the back of your neck as you walk.

Joel stews and broods as you leave the forest together. He wants to go back in time and kill everyone who’s ever hurt you, anyone who let you get hurt, and anyone who failed to hurt the people who hurt you. His muscles are all tense, and his veins are throbbing.

When you get to the treeline, Joel asks Carter, "Can ya gimme five?"

"Sure thing, boss.".

“No ones gonna miss that asshole," Joel mutters as he checks his gun then sets his sights on the house.

Joel can’t go back in time, but by God, he’s got to kill someone. He drops his backpack then hurries back to the abandoned house, rifle in both hands. When he gets there, he puts the rifle around his back and grabs the dog chain off the ground on his way in.

—---You 🌸🫛-—

You and Carter look at each other. “How’s your hand?” you ask him.

“It’ll be fine,” he reassures you. “I dunno where the little bugger went,” he looks around for the dog.

You both ignore the sound of the chain thrashing around until you hear grunting and look toward the house. Punches are landing. Carter puts a hand on his rifle but doesn’t move yet. Joel grunts and yells between punches. A minute later, Joel steps out of the house, walking backwards, with the chain pulled taught, and a bloody man dragging behind him. Joel kicks him up against the wall, hits him in the face with the butt of his rifle, then wraps the chain around the drain pipe where the dog was tied up. Joel hits the man again, then aims the rifle and calmly shoots him. Even if you never see the dog again, you're certain the dog is better off without that man. Joel wipes blood splatter off his brow and scowls at the ground as he walks back to you and Carter.

“Ya good?” Carter asks him.

Joel nods. He’s sweaty, chest heaving. You try not to let your eyes linger on the remaining blood. You observe his throbbing veins instead. The whole scene has you clenching your thighs.

You walk mostly in silence. When you stop for water, you realize you're being followed. Joel doesn’t notice, but you see the dog duck behind an old car when you turn around. You keep a straight face.

You hear something in the distance. Dust is kicked up down the road. Carter says, “Finally.” It’s the van that still works, picking you up. You didn't know it was coming and wish the dog could follow you the rest of the way home, but you don’t say anything. You're glad he's unchained.

—–

When you get back to the stash house, Joel works on the broken down van. When he’s done for the day, he takes you back to the trailer and washes the grease off. When he comes out of the bathroom, you're sitting in the window nook looking at your book, but thinking about the dog. He comes over, wiping his hands off on a towel. "Wanna go out 'n' shoot?" He seems to want to cheer you up.

Joel goes first. He looks through the scope at the trailer park. Ever since those guys showed up one night, he's looking for other raiders or troublemakers. Then he lines up a shot at the usual target. Your eyes are on his biceps. When Joel is about to take aim, the rare sound of ducks honking startles you. They should’ve already flown South. Joel gets up on his knees and aims toward the front of the flock. He hits one, shifts ahead of the flock, and hits another. It gives you butterflies. You hear a thud as the second one hits the ground.

“Nice!” you tell him. He winks at you and puts the gun strap over his shoulder. You smooth your dress under your butt as you stand up, then adjust the thigh holster. Joel groans as he stands up. You peer down toward where the birds fell, and something is moving up the hill. A bird, moving strangely. A dead bird, in a little dog's mouth.

You gasp. Joel looks at you, then follows your eyes. The bird is as big as the dog. His mouth is open wide to fit the neck. He crests the hill and drops the bird. "Good boy!" You praise. He does a happy circle and trots back down the hill.

You look at Joel and try not to smile. Joel puts his hand on his hip and shifts his weight to one leg. He looks down at the ground and rubs brow with the flat of his index finger, squinting. When the dog returns with the second bird, Joel mutters, "alright, big guy," and squats down to accept the bird from his mouth. Then you barely hear him mutter, "good boy." The dog does another circle and trots around the other side of the trailer.

"How'd he find us, all this way?" You marvel.

"Must have some hound in’m," Joel shakes his head. “Guess ya made an impression.”

Joel starts a fire and boils two big pots of water. The dog keeps a respectful distance, lounging in the same clover patch where you were sitting earlier. Joel chops the heads and feet off the birds, and tosses them on the ground. The dog scurries over, wagging his tail. He drags one of the duck heads over to the grass to chew on with his butt in the air and his tail wagging furiously, all the way upright now.

Joel beckons you back inside to wash up and change. He takes a quick shower while you take off the flannel and wash your hands in the kitchen sink. You take off the belt, untethering the ribbons, but you leave the holster on. You sit back down in the window nook.

—-

When Joel comes out from the bathroom, he sits down, manspreads, and pats the kitchen table in front of him, looking at the skirt of your dress as you get up from your seat. You unholster your gun and set it down, then use your hands to help yourself onto the surface, sitting on your dress so your thighs won't stick. Joel spreads your knees so he can be between them, and grabs your ass to scoot you closer.

He lifts the dress to look at the holster, and he puts his toothpick in his mouth.

"s'prised it worked," he mutters. He eyes your legs and runs his hands all the way up your thighs with a deep breath. "Looks good on ya, too," he murmurs. He thumbs the ribbon of the holster, then unties it. He unbuckles the real strap, too. Then he lifts your knee, slides the holster out from under you, and sets it aside with the gun. He runs his hand over the indentation in your skin from the buckle. "that hurt?" He asks.

"No."

He puts his elbows down on either side of your hips, and his biceps rest against your thighs. He looks back and forth between your breasts and takes the toothpick out of his mouth. Without taking his eyes off you, he throws it into the kitchen sink and it hits the metal with a light plink.

He furrows his brow and looks at your body, then puts his cheek flat against your breast at the lace neckline of your cotton dress while he palms the opposite tit. He turns his face to nose your nipple, and it hardens through the fabric of your dress. He dampens the cotton with his mouth as he flattens his tongue against it. One hand holds your back, near your shoulder blade for leverage, with his thumb hooked under your arm.

He kisses wetly at your breast through your dress, then glances up at you. His hands slide up to the straps of your dress. He gently nudges the straps off your shoulder. His fingers skim your nipples as he curls his thick fingers into the lace neckline, then pulls the dress down below your tits. He presses his wide tongue onto your nipple and closes his eyes as he latches onto it. Then he lets go with a soft pop and sucks below the nipple as he massages the other breast. You're gushing arousal with your legs wide open. He inhales through his nose and his stomach growls.

"Joel," you sigh, resting your hands on his muscular back. You watch his vein

His only response is "Mmm," into your nipple. You're throbbing, and the more attention he pays to your tits, the more your cunt aches to be filled. You want to let him explore your body, it's not something he normally does, but it also makes you want his cock so bad. You want him to slide you off the table and sink you onto his massive erection. He's really taking his time. You take a deep breath and try to relax. Your clit twitches.

Joel pulls down the dress a little more, exposing an inch or two below your breasts. He switches sides, dragging his mouth to his right, your left. With your left nipple in his mouth, he looks up at you and makes sleepy eye contact. His pupils are blown wide.

"Joel, I want it," you plead.

His tongue trails as he moves his mouth an inch to the right of your nipple, then he closes his eyes again. He licks and sucks the outer curve of your breast, massaging the other one with a thumb lightly brushing the nipple, then the heel of his palm flattening it into your breast. His eyes open to watch his massive hand moving languidly on your breast.

You whine his name again and slot your fingers into his dark, curly hair. He doesn't look up. You finger his curls and the pads of your fingers lightly caress his scalp. He pulls his mouth off your breast and backs his head away enough to look at your body. You let your fingers fall out of his hair and rest back on his shoulders. One of his hands moves to rest on your hip, his fingers curling around your flesh and his thumb brushing the hem of your dress.

His voice is low and husky. "Ever feel like ya just. . ." He meets your gaze with hungry eyes, then looks at your lips. "gotta have your mouth on somethin’?"

His eyes fall down your body as he sits back and palms himself through his jeans. You whisper "yeah," with a smile and begin to scoot off the table so you can suck him off. He abruptly leans forward and stops you with both hands firmly on your hips. He doesn't let you move. His brow furrows. He looks back and forth between your breasts and noses a nipple again. He murmurs low and gruff into your supple skin, "Ain't talkin' 'bout you."

Your chest erupts in goosebumps. He drags his hands down your dress to the bare skin of your legs, then slides his massive palms back up your thighs, slipping his fingers under your dress, leaving his thumbs hooked on top. You brace your hands on the table to lift your butt for him. His hands keep moving up, reaching your hips. The fabric of your dress bunches above your ass, then he curls his fingers under the waistband of your panties and begins to take them down. You let yourself back down on the table as he slides the underwear down your legs. It dangles between his fingers as he brings his hand to your neck and caresses the side of your throat with his thumb.

You feel the damp cotton against your throat and smell your own arousal as he grips your jaw. He locks eyes with you for less than a second before his gaze drifts downward. He returns his other palm to your breast, fingers slotting under your arm to hold you steady as he pushes you down until your back is flat on the table. He nudges your thighs farther apart. He sucks in a sharp breath through his nose and hums "Mmm."

He drops the panties on the table and plants his elbows on either side of your thighs again. He spreads you open and thumbs your folds, bringing the moisture up to your clit. He hunches over to bring his face between your legs and his left hand reaches up to fondle a breast. He drags his nose through your slick and inhales, then moans at your scent. He plants his mouth on the crease of your thigh. He sucks the skin into your mouth, then let's go. He runs two knuckles through your folds, then turns his hand palm-up and gently nudges his middle finger inside. Your walls spasm around the intrusion and he breathes, "god damn."

He pumps his finger once and adds a second digit. You moan, and he hums a deep "Mmm," in response. He takes his fingers out and sucks one, then both into his mouth. "Fuck," he breathes.

He doesn't waste any more time, spreading you wide open with his thumbs and burying his face in your cunt. He starts at your entrance where your wetness pools and licks up from there, punctuating the first lick with a kiss on the clit that makes your thighs tremble. Then he laps at you more selfishly, like he's thirsty, like he needs to drink you. His tongue starts flat and stiffens as he digs for more and explores each crevasse. He moans into your folds. You've never felt anything as powerful and precise as his tongue. It's stronger than his fingers. It makes you tingle in one swipe, then presses into the tingle for relief. He holds you gently until you wriggle in pleasure and he holds you down firmer with one forearm across your lower belly.

He breathes through his nose and moans as he devours you. When he pauses, he draws in a deeper breath through his mouth then exhales vocally against your wet cunt.

"Feel good?" He asks with a glance to your face, then plants his mouth on your clit.

He slides one then two fingers into your core again and you gasp then answer "y-yeah," as he sucks your clit while he pumps them.

He takes his arm off your abdomen to unbutton his pants and take his stiff cock out. He pulls his face away from your pussy. You're throbbing, and your body races to replenish all the moisture he's sucked up. He gathers some on his fingers then also spits into his hand and wraps it around his length. You want it inside you so, so bad. You hear the squelching as his hand moves up and down his shaft.

He brings his face back between your legs and puts his arm back on top of you to hold you still, angling his elbow so his thumb is planted at your clit. He laps at you again, moaning into your throbbing, swollen lips. He firmly licks between your clit and hole, then thrusts his tongue into your entrance and you whimper. He tilts his head and jabs his sharpened tongue into you again and again, pumping his cock all the while. He noses your clit as he sucks and laps, then fucks you with his tongue again.

You writhe under his arm. "Yeah," he whispers before planting his mouth again. He works your clit with his thumb as he thrusts his tongue into you, dragging it against the top wall, and your desperate cunt twitches against him. You let out a long whine, and his thumb gently rubs the top of your clit, over your hood.

"Joel," you whimper and it turns into a moan.

His thumb slows down, and he gathers more slick on his fingers. He wipes it on his shaft, then pulls you by the thighs closer to the edge, unsticking your bare ass from the table. You sit up on your elbows and whimper, "want you. . ."

He's holding his cock, chest heaving. "Want this?"

"Yeah-yes," you whimper. "Please."

He gazes darkly at your cunt and decides, "Ain't done yet."

You whine his name as he puts his face between your legs again. He sucks your clit for a few seconds until you're whimpering, then he plants his mouth a little lower. He flattens two fingers to rubs your clit while he fucks you with his tongue. You moan his name as your climax seizes you, and you clench around his tongue. He moves his hand from your clit to your mound to hold you steady as you come. He withdraws his tongue from your hole and laps up and down your folds for a few seconds as you continue to twitch.

Then he stands up, holding his stiff, wet cock. His face is flushed, and he's shiny from the nose down. He braces a hand on the table and teases your clit with his swollen tip. You flinch in pleasure, still reeling from your first orgasm. He notches his tip at your wet little hole, holds onto your thighs,.and shoves himself into you with a groan. He stays in for a moment, sighing “Ohh, fuck,” admiring your body as it rushes to accommodate him. You spasm around his cock, still twitching with aftershocks. He backs up then slams into you with a low growl from his chest. It's a lot to take, but god it feels good. He puts his arms under your knees, wrapping his hands over to hold your thighs as he buries his length in you, grunting and sighing. His balls slap against your ass. His biceps flex, and It isn't long before you begin to moan and writhe, and squeeze his cock.

"Good girl," he breathes. "Good, sweet pea."

He closes his eyes and fucks you through it. He breathes deep and slow, like he's trying not to come yet. He slows way down, moans, then bottoms out and begins to pulse. He brings his hands to either side of your body and hovers over you while he thrusts slowly with each warm burst he releases. You milk his cock until his balls are empty, then your contractions fade.

Joel hovers there, admiring your body. Then he slides out and sits down on the chair between your legs again. His armpits are warm and humid on your thighs. He puts one hand on each breast and lowers his head to rest his cheek on your lower abdomen, tickling you with his beard. He wipes his mouth on your belly and a spot of drool from the corner of his mouth hits your skin. He stares off at the front door of the trailer in a trance, gently cupping your breasts. He mumbles, "Taste so good, sweet pea."

You reach for his hair and he doesn't stop you from fingering his curls. His eyelids droop, and after a few seconds, he closes his eyes. You lightly massage his scalp again.

He only allows himself a minute or two before he tenses and clears his throat. He lifts his head and slides his hands under your arms, helping you sit up straight.

“I'll check the birds,” he says as he tucks his cock away. He squeezes your thigh and gives you a wink before he stands up to go outside.

Thank you for reading and engaging 🖤 It means the world to me when you show him your love! Every comment and reblog means a lot to me, no matter how small your blog, no matter whether this post i's new or old. I also love when people throw me a comment when they re-read. It's like adding coals to the fire that keeps me warm and writing lol.

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happy six month anniversary to the original raider Joel fic. 💕

My tag lists are being phased out. . . please subscribe to notifications on @toxicfics.

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All Joel minus ones i'm pretty sure already saw it or are on toxic notifs or don't read joel anymore? . . : @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading

Raider: @randomhoe @princessloveweird @mugshotqueen @anas-dreamer @eggnox @dindjarins-brown-eyed-girl @tulipsatmidnight @imaginary98 @neobanguniverse@quietlyignoringyou

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murdockjonescagerand · 8 months

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Meet Me in the Back (joel miller x fem!reader) (18+) | oneshot

pairing: sleazy gas station clerk!joel miller x fem!reader summary: When the gas station clerk refuses to sell you alcohol after a shitty day, you need to get creative warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] age gap (reader is 21+, Joel is 50s-ish), one-sided daddy!kink, bribery, light exhibitionism, flashing tits, VERY light dubcon (ignored discomfort), size!kink (Joel is massive as per usual), protected piv (an atticrissfinch first, folks. i’m different now, surely), mentions of alcohol and smoking, Joel using some cringey dirty talk but he’s old and creepy so it’s hot word count: ~3.8K | ao3 a/n: don’t know where this shit came from but god am I a sucker for a sleazy joel, so here you go friends ❤️❤️

The sickly fluorescents buzz overhead as the equally pitiful chime of the door chirps your entrance. This isn’t your favorite gas station to frequent, but it’s the closest to your apartment and it’s fucking late. You’re exhausted and your brain is whirring from the past week of work. Oh, yeah, and your shitass boyfriend of five months—now ex-boyfriend—forgot to lock his stupid phone tonight to hide the midnight “u up?” texts coming in from his “just friends, I swear” coworker while he was taking what would be his last piss in your bathroom.

Fuck him. You’re getting drunk.

The clerk, a grimy-looking fifty-something-year-old in an undone patterned short-sleeve button-up and a cheap generic white tank top underneath, sits on a stool behind the register. You somehow doubt the tacky gold cross around his neck has seen the inside of a church in quite some time. He grunts in greeting, eyes glancing up briefly from the Playboy open between his spread legs. You don’t miss the small double-take he does when he sees a pretty young thing in a skimpy sundress entering his store alone, but you let it slide off. He can look if he wants; you could not give less of a fuck tonight.

Your flip flops clack against the dingy linoleum as you troll the empty aisles aimlessly, a force of habit despite knowing exactly what you’re here for. You stop at the refrigerated section at the back and scan the options, settling quickly on a pack of Trulys. You hoist it off the shelf and let the door snick shut, a burst of cool air ruffling your dress and igniting a wave of goosebumps on your legs.

You plop down the case on the front counter and rifle through your purse for your wallet.

“No can do, sweetheart.”

Your hands freeze in your purse as you look up at the clerk, still perched on his stool but sans the naked centerfold, having left it sloughed open on the counter turned to a busty topless swimsuit model with her tits pressed together between her arms.

“I’m sorry?” You inquire, pulling your hand out of your bag slowly. “I’m over 21. I have my ID with me.”

The clerk—Joel, you gather from his name badge—nods toward the 12-pack on the counter. “Can’t sell booze after midnight.”

“The fuck? Says who?” You bite back, your irritation from the day seeping into your tone in a way it typically wouldn’t. You’re not usually a bitch to strangers, least of all customer service workers, but it feels like this is some sort of cosmic joke.

It doesn’t phase Joel in the slightest. He just shrugs off your bitchiness and clarifies, “Says state law, sweetheart.”

“That’s the stupidest fucking law I’ve ever heard,” You deadpan, crossing your arms across your chest.

The man is not exactly subtle when his eyes sink down to drink in the way the motion props up your tits in your low-cut dress. Like you’re his own real-life Playboy model. Whatever. Maybe a little show will get him to bypass the stupid rule.

Joel makes a little tch sound with his tongue against his teeth. “Sorry, darlin’. Law’s the law.”

You huff, leaning forward on the counter and gifting him a very nice view down your dress. “Well I still think it’s stupid. Can’t you just give me a pass? Just this once? I’ve had an unbelievably shitty night,” You pout, mimicking the model discarded next to your elbow and using your arms to enhance your cleavage.

His jaw ticks as he overtly ogles what you’re serving him. When his eyes flick back up to yours, he’s donning a shallow smirk. “You find that that works for you often?” He quips, gesturing to your chest.

You shrug a shoulder with a smirk of your own. “Use what you’ve got, right?”

Joel leans back on his stool, scratching the back of his head as if in thought, his eyes darting back to your chest as he considers his options.

“Not so sure, sweetheart. Could get in heaps of trouble for shit like this.”

“What if…” You start off, a hand drifting up to your neckline and curling around it just above your right breast, pulling it down just a smidge. Not revealing anything yet, only an indication that you might. “What if I give you something a little better than that picture,” You proposition, luring his eyes down to the dirty magazine with your gaze, and then heading right back to him.

You see his tongue run over his top teeth behind his lip as he studies the topless model on the page, and then glances back up at you through his eyelashes with a skeevy tilt to his mouth. “Go on, then.”

You give him a sexy little smirk, checking the front door with a cursory glance. When you confirm the coast is clear, you bite your lip and start to lower your top.

Joel bows forward with his forearms against his thighs, eyes transfixed on every inch of skin being unveiled.

You bring your collar down coquettishly, your mouth popping in faux surprise when one hardened nipple slips free. “Oops,” You say with a cheeky smile.

A veiny hand comes up to stroke at his beard as he wets his lips. “Don’t be shy now. Give her sister a little breather too.”

“Greedy,” You scold with mock offense. But you’re already this far and you might as fucking well. You do a swift check of the door again as your other hand tugs your dress down on the other side.

“Go-lly,” Joel rasps accompanied by a low whistle. “Put that damn model to shame, sweetheart.” He adjusts himself in his jeans and you see a sizeable bulge at his crotch, plain as day.

His fingers twitch where they rest on his knee like they’re itching to touch.

“Thank you,” You purr, giving them both a single squeeze in your palms and pressing them together for good measure with your nipples peeking through your fingers before sliding your dress back in place. “And thank you for your sacrifice,” You tease, wrapping your hand around the handle of the seltzers.

“Now, hold on there, sweetheart,” Joel protests with a furrowed brow, slipping off his seat and slamming a hand down over yours on the case. “I didn’t say I’d let you have it for that.”

Your face drops. “Excuse me? You said—”

“I didn’t say jack shit,” Joel corrects. “You flashed your tits at me of your own accord. Not my fault you assumed.”

“That’s fucked up, dude!” You shout back. “I just gave you Girls Gone Wild Live, is that really not enough for you?”

Joel snorts a laugh.“ Shit, maybe for a fuckin’ tallboy or two, but not a whole goddamn case.” Joel cocks a hip and balances his arm across the seltzer. “Gonna need more’n a little peep show to haggle for a twelver.”

You’re absolutely positive you’re going to regret it, but you ask, “And what exactly would that entail?”

A filthy grin bleeds across his face, and he half-heartedly masks it with a hand over his mouth, wiping at the corners with the pads of his pudgy fingers. With his stemmed smile, he drops his palm to the counter, raking his eyes salaciously up the lines of your body. “How’s about you slip into the back with me and find out?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “I don’t think so, dude.”

The tip of his tongue creeps out to lick the corner of his mouth. “Throw in a pack o’ smokes too, ‘f that’s up your alley.”

You shift your weight and pout your lips to the side, crossing your arms again. “Marlboros?”

You don’t know why you’re asking. There’s no way you’re going anywhere with him. Right? You wouldn’t do that. No matter how…unexpectedly sexy this sleazy guy is. No matter how the sleeves of his shirt are straining around his biceps. Or how the little gold cross dangles in that unexplainably trashy-hot kind of way. Or how he is—no question—packing a fucking missile in his pants.

Shit.

“Whatever kind you want, for the right price, darlin’,” He winks.

You nibble your lower lip, weighing the situation. You know you’re being stupid. But you’re pissed off, maybe a little heartbroken, sufficiently horny, and newly bereft of your dick-on-demand as of a couple hours ago.

And Jesus, could you really fucking use a drink and a smoke right now. For free, nonetheless. Or, at least, not at the cost of anything you’d lament losing. Surely your dignity can withstand a meaningless fuck in a back room for your personal benefit, right?

Fuck it.

“Alright, fine,” You relent, leaning onto the counter again. “But let me spell things out this time. I let you take me in the back and fuck me—pussy only,” You dictate with a pointed finger, “And I leave with this case of seltzer and two packs of Marlboros, no charge.”

“I didn’t say two, I said—”

“Two packs of Marlboros,” You repeat with emphasis, jabbing your finger towards the back wall of tobacco products. “And we never fucking mention this again.”

“Jesus, bleedin’ me fuckin’ dry over here,” Joel mutters, his eyes dipping to the counter and then up to your tits. “Better be a sweet fuckin’ pussy.”

“Sweetest you’ll have till you kick the bucket next week, old man.”

“You got some fuckin’ spirit, I’ll give ya that,” Joel chuckles. He holds a hand out and you eye it tentatively for a brief moment before clasping it and giving it a solid shake. “We got a deal, sweetheart.”

Joel pushes himself off the counter and lifts the hinged countertop to pass through. He sticks his head out the door, looking left then right, and shuts it. He flips a sign on the glass to read “Be back in 10!” and bolts the lock, testing the door to ensure it holds.

“Come on then, darlin’. Better make it quick.”

He guides you to the back of the store and through a locked door labeled “Employees Only”, rushing you in with a hand on your lower back. The room is bursting with boxes, stacked near the ceiling in some places. Unsettling stains are splattered on nearly all visible floor space, some looking stickier than others. You gingerly set your purse down on a box by the door.

“Leave the dress on, but take those beautiful titties back out, sweetheart,” Joel directs, already working on unfastening his pants.

You roll your eyes a little, but oblige, dipping your dress down underneath your tits again. You back up against the door and toy with them absentmindedly as you watch Joel’s cock spring free from his boxers and holy shit.

“Woah,” is all you manage to vocalize.

Joel looks at you with a smirk, his wide hand stroking down the full length of him and dipping a thumb into the wet slit. “Biggest cock you’re gonna take ‘til you kick your own bucket, darlin’,” He chides, stepping toward you. “‘N you’ve got a hell of a lot longer to go than I do.”

“Yeah, no shit,” You breathe out, feeling your pussy gush into your panties at the thought of that inside of you. You idly reach between your legs and ruck up your dress, pulling your panties to the side and running a finger through your already-soaked folds.

“That’s a pretty little cunt, sweetheart,” Joel says with a voracious look in his eyes, laying a palm against the door level with your head. He’s so fucking large when he’s up this close, it makes your breath hitch. Even with your hips apart, you feel the tip of his cock graze the backs of your fingers where they’re playing with your pussy. Joel’s head dips down between your tits, nose tracing the curves before he sucks a nipple into his mouth.

You press your eyes shut for a moment to clear your head with a steadying breath. “Condom,” You order as the raised bud pops out of his mouth and he locks eyes with you.

“Ah, fresh out. Sorry, darlin’,” Joel says with a tone and expression that belies his complete lack of real remorse.

“You literally sell them. Right outside this door. Probably even have some in this room,” You argue back.

“I can’t be givin’ you any more of my stock, kid. You’re already cleanin’ me out.”

You roll your eyes and push off from the door, ducking under his arm and digging through the inner zipper pocket of your purse. You spin back around to him, holding a condom packet between your fingers with raised brows.

“Well, aren’t you a regular fuckin’ Girl Scout,” He mumbles with a tinge of irritation in his voice, snatching it from you. “Not a chance in hell this is gonna fit.”

“Oh fuck off with that bullshit,” You scoff. “You’ll be just fine.”

He rips the packet with his teeth and spits the strip onto the floor, the remainder of the foil following a moment later. He winces as he pinches the tip of the condom and rolls it down. “Fuckin’ hate these things.”

“You wanna fuck me or not?” You ask, your ass leaning against a smaller stack of boxes. “That’s my stipulation. Clock’s ticking, old man. Someone’s gonna be banging on that glass door sooner or later.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel mutters, pulling on his cock lewdly, “Bend over, little bitch. Let Daddy Joel take what he’s owed.”

“Jesus Christ,” You say under your breath incredulously, actively fighting the urge to roll your eyes again. You turn around and bend over the boxes, tucking your cheek into the loop of your arms and sticking your ass out.

“That’a girl,” He croons, pushing the hem of your dress up over your hips. He whistles at you for a second time, palming your ass with both hands and landing a sudden smack to your flesh that makes you jump. “That’s an ass fit for Playboy for sure.”

His thumb traces the strap of your thong down the crack of your ass, stopping at your blooming wet spot. “Look at that pussy. All drenched and waitin’ for me.”

You feel his hands slide into the gusset of your panties, and they tear apart under his fists with nothing more than a grunt and a tug. “There we go.”

“Hey!” You shout back, your head whipping around. “What the fuck, dude? Those aren’t cheap.”

Joel just shrugs, pressing a hand between your shoulder blades to bend you back over. “Should’ve taken ‘em off.”

Another tug at your waist and your panties fall from your body completely.

Joel’s hand nestles between your shoulders again as the other guides the fat head of his cock through your slick pussy. Your hips jolt when he catches on your clit, and he gives a satisfied breathy laugh.

“Oh, she’s creamin’ for it, ain’t she?”

You cringe internally at his phrasing—so fucking unsexy, but somehow making you wetter at the same time.

“God, just fuck me,” You moan, flexing onto your tiptoes to try and guide him where you want him.

“Mmm, needy little thing,” He rumbles, but sits his cock at your entrance. Joel flattens himself against your spine and nuzzles into the back of your neck as he rolls his hips into you, the head of his cock stretching you open.

You gasp out a pained whine, biting into the flesh of your arm as Joel continues to push his way through.

“Shit, this little pussy fucks right open, don’t it,” He grunts, securing a hand onto your hip as he slides all the way inside. His panting breaths waft over your skin, tickling the hairs at the nape of your neck. His other hand comes up to grope at your breast, tweaking the nipple between his pointer and middle knuckles.

It feels like he’s ripping you open from the inside, like he’s shifting your organs as he makes room for himself inside your body. You squeak out a quiet, “Ow,” as his hips collide flush with your ass and his length bottoms out, stretching you more than you could even fathom before.

“Yeah,” Joel moans in your ear, pulling out a few inches and slamming back in as you cry out. “Bet you like it when it hurts, don’t ya, sweetheart.”

You squeal when he pulls out further and fills you completely again, setting a languid pace as he retreats slowly and then rams all of him back inside you at once. The sting of him fades into the background, but the overwhelming size of him, the all-encompassing fullness that you feel just gets more intense.

You muffle your cries into your arm as he whispers filth into your ear.

“Splittin’ you open just right, isn’t it, sweetheart? Daddy Joel knows just how to give it to you. Make you scream for it. Make them legs shake. That’s right, baby, take it good for Daddy.”

And you can’t do anything but take it. Take his huge cock pounding into you, take his disgusting words spilling in your ear, take the sound of slapping reverberating around the stockroom as your ass crashes against his hips.

“Yeah, you like Daddy Joel’s big cock, don’t ya?” His voice rasps over the crude slap of his skin against yours. Your brain feels scrambled, only spluttering out a strained whimper in response.

A hand slides down your thigh and hooks around the back of your knee, hauling it up onto the top of the box and spreading you wide open for him as your sandal clatters to the ground.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Joel groans obscenely loud in the small, crowded space as he sinks even deeper into you, pulling a noise from you that’s so foreign you’re not entirely sure you’ve ever made it before. Somewhere between a moan, a scream, and a gasp shredding your throat at the impossibility of him filling you any more than he already had.

“Fuck, I can’t—I can’t—” You cry out, tears welling in your eyes, hands scratching for purchase on the edges of the box.

“Yes you can, darlin’. Takin’ it so good,” He grunts, gripping your shoulder for leverage as his relentless thrusts devastate your very core and lick at your cervix.

“Too—too fucking big, please. Please hurry,” You whimper, your hand flying back to push back against his hips. He slaps your hand away and grabs at your wrist, bending your arm and locking it at your back as he ceaselessly fucks into your clenching hole.

“Daddy’s too fucking big, huh?” He teases with laughter in his voice. “‘F it’s too big, why’s your pussy takin’ it so easy? It’s fuckin’ squeezin’ me, darlin’. It don’t want me to leave.”

You sob into your arm as your one leg remaining on the floor starts to quiver beneath you.

“Mmm, fuck, that’s right. Want you shiverin’ and shakin’ on Daddy’s cock. Fuckin’ you so wide open, y’could probably fit one of them seltzer cans up your snatch after this no problem,” Joel grits out.

Your eyes threaten to roll back in your head as sweat gathers at your temples and your body feels like it’s buzzing. “I fuck—I fucking can’t—t-t-too much, too big,” You stutter, feeling your pussy shuddering around him in what you think is an orgasm but you can’t even fucking tell from how foggy your brain is, how overstimulated every cell in your body feels.

Joel grunts loudly as your cunt pulses around him, jerking his hips faster into you as you constantly strain to catch your breath. “Fuckin’ take it, bitch. Fuck your Daddy for your booze, and he’ll let you have it,” He growls out, before you distinctly hear him spit, and then feel a splash of saliva hit the crack of your ass and drip down between your cheeks.

“Goddamn, wish I could coat this fuckin’ pussy with my load. Pump you full of my come, watch it drip outta ya,” He moans, his voice becoming increasingly unsteady as his hips snap into you faster and faster. “Gonna bust inside this little cunt, darlin’. Fuck, take it, take it, take it, bitch,” He grunts with one last obliterating thrust inside you, and then he’s coming with a guttural moan. You can feel his cock pulse with how tight your walls are choking it out of him, even with the condom.

Your mouth is dry and your thighs are soaked as Joel pulls out of you gingerly. You startle when he smacks your ass with a heavy hand again.

“Some good fuckin’ pussy,” He pants out, making quiet little noises of sensitivity as he slips the condom off his softening cock and ties it off, tossing it in a nearby trash can.

You lower your leg back down to the ground carefully, and you somehow become less balanced, your legs collapsing out from under you as you crumple to the floor onto your hands and knees.

You hear Joel chuckle in time with the zipper on his jeans. “Take your time. Gotta open back up.”

You hear the door shut after him, and you just breathe, limbs still vibrating as you kneel on the tacky floor.

What the fuck just happened to you, You think.

You just got fucked within an inch of your life by a sleazy gas station clerk, that’s what happened. And you have no fucking idea how to process it.

When you’re pretty sure you can tolerate it, you muscle yourself up off the ground and stuff your tits back into your dress. The panties are a lost cause, so you leave them littering the floor. Fuck, he can have the souvenir. He deserves it.

You ruffle your hair, slip your lost flip flop back on, grab your purse, and stumble out into the store. A couple haggard souls browse the aisles with glazed eyes as you make your way to the front, oblivious to your presence or from where you just exited from. You approach the counter where your case of Truly still sits. Joel is back up on his perch with his ragged boots propped on the bottom rung of the stool, the Playboy suitably stashed away from sight.

“Get everything you need?” He asks coolly, a coy smile playing at his lips.

“Um, two packs of Marlboro Reds, please,” You answer softly, your voice cracking slightly and prompting you to clear your throat.

Joel nods with that grin still in place, spinning on his seat and snagging the cigarettes. He tilts the cartons to and from his head in some semblance of a saluting gesture and places them on top of the seltzers. “Pleasure doin’ business with ya, darlin’. Come back anytime.”

Your eyes involuntarily flit toward his crotch and back up. A spark lights back up in your chest and you grant him a playful smirk. “I just might.”

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murdockjonescagerand · 9 months

Note

Hi!! Pls point me in the right direction if there’s been a similar ask already, but I’m recently obsessed with raider and also started my period today :// so I’m wondering how Joel would treat sweet pea on her period? Does he think it’s gross, does he still touch her on her period, does he let her have painkillers if she asks nicely, etc? Do you imagine her not even getting her period at all anymore from stress or malnourishment? Just a random thought I had :)

Raider Joel if you got your period

900 words, raider!Joel x f!reader.

SUMMARY/WARNINGS: this is mostly headcanon/kinda fluff I guess but brief angst and smut (period sex, oral m receiving), talk of sterility. Featuring Carter!

A/N: yeah, she doesn't have her period, from malnourishment or general conditions, like you mentioned, so if she got it I think it'd be a surprise to both of them. If this gets canonized I'll let y'all know but rn I don't wanna deal with tracking a period lol.

Early one morning, when the sun is still rising, Joel has an arm wrapped over you and his hand creeps between your legs. He pulls you back into him, and his fingers slip between your thighs. You’re even wetter than usual, making him press his arousal into you with a quiet growl, and then, he can’t resist, he brings his finger to his mouth. Before he can taste it, he smells the familiar copper and his heart skips a beat. This all happens really fast: He throws the covers off you and sees a dark blotch smeared from when he pulled you into him. He backs up and lets you down onto your back. He says your name urgently, shakes your shoulder and hovers his cheek over your mouth to feel your breath. Normal, thank God.

As you begin to wake up, he finally remembers about periods and feels bad for making a big deal of it if that’s what’s going on. He cups your face and breathes a sigh of relief, but he still has to ask, “Are you hurt?”

You begin to stir awake. "You okay?" He asks. As you gain consciousness you register his wet finger on your cheek and put your hand over it. You feel how wet you are and squirm, then when you turn over to face him, you look down to reach down for the sheet and you see blood. It startles you, too. Then you register the familiar ache in your abdomen, and you never thought you’d *want* cramps but for some reason it makes you emotional to have it back.

You reflexively apologize, “Sorry, I think it’s just. . .it must be back,” you whisper. “My cycle.”

“It’s okay, you’re okay, right?” His heart rate is still elevated but he’s starting to calm down.

“Yeah,” you nod. “I’m sorry, it’s been gone for so-”

“It’s okay, you’re okay.”

–

I think he’d do his best to take care of you but would need some guidance. He’d probably ask you what you need. As much of a big tough guy as he is he does take his role seriously in taking care of you so I imagine he’d run you a bath and tell you to wait there. Maybe he’d send Carter to try to find some pads lmao.

Joel would jog down the hill to the stash house to get Carter. Joel would almost rather Carter just stay with you guys, but someone's still gotta keep an eye on things. Carter would still be waking up when Joel barges in asking for help. Carter's like, "easy, what's goin' on?"

"She's bleedin', I need you to-"

"What happened, is she okay??"

"No, yeah, she's got," Joel awkwardly gesticulate as he explains, "She's got her cycle"

"Her period?" Carter breathes a sigh of relief and chuckles. "made it sound like life or death, man. Ya know they're s'posed to get it every month right?"

"Can ya find her somethin'?"

“Joel, I dunno anything about-”

“Carter, please–can ya figure it out?”

Carter swallows and looks around. “Yeah. Sure, boss.”

(I guess this falls under "other duties as assigned" - taking down human scarecrows, finding menstrual products)

–

And yes, Joel has the drug connections and might offer you pills if you feel bad, or even if you don't. He might even try to help by washing the sheets while you're in the bath and Carter is out trying to find supplies.

–

Sexually, Joel has no aversion to your period. But maybe you’re still self conscious of the mess at first. He’s pounding you from behind, and you’ve just finished coming. He moans deeply as you squeeze him with an aftershock.

“Joel,” you look back at him.

He grunts and sighs as he buries his length in you, a mess spreading in his pubic hair and between your legs. He pants, “yeah sweet pea”

“Can i swallow it”

“Can ya —”

“Please?"

He sighs, wanting to slam into you and spill it already, but thinking, ok whatever. He pulls out, lays back on the bed, and you lick him clean before he cums and you swallow. Seeing you do it is such a turn-on, it might become a thing he wants you to do.

–

And then after, you suggest, “maybe I should swallow all the time from now on.”

His brow furrows “Why?”

“If I can get my period, i can probably get pregnant." It goes without saying neither of you would consider that a good things in this world.

“oh,” he mutters, then he’s pensive for a moment. “that ain’t gonna happen, sweet pea.”

“how do you know? are you ... fixed?”

He's short, but his tone is gentle. “yeah, it just ain’t gonna happen okay?” You feel bad for accidentally stumbling onto something from his past, but feel relieved at the revelation.

“okay,” you whisper as you put your head on his chest. “sorry.”

“It’s okay, baby. 's'a good thing, ain't it."

"Yeah," you sigh. "really good. thanks for telling me."

—

We don't know exactly why she doesn't have it, either malnourishment and/or stress conditions could be viable, I've tended to HC malnutrition but if she were to get it, maybe that'd be a sign of kind of settling into a (relative to the situation) normal-ish life there. At least she started picking dandelion leaves and stuff and foraging for mushrooms, and maybe they found some produce like with the apples and pumpkins HC.

—-

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️

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murdockjonescagerand · 9 months

Text

Hook, Line, Sucker

Prologue

You didn't think anything would ever be as dangerous in Jackson as what was beyond it's walls but your proven wrong one night and it changes everything.

Dark!Joel Miller

Dead Dove: Do not Eat

It was snowing that day, you’ll never forget it.

You’ve never been one to be bothered by the cold, not even the harsh winters of Jackson bring you discomfort. You always joked it was due to being born in December, that you were born in the cold, your body knew how to survive it.

Your body could never survive him though.

That first day is so hard to look back on because all it does is force you to think about everything that happened, about how you could have done anything else and maybe your life wouldn’t be what it is today.

The snow flakes had been falling, your eyes entranced by the way the street lights caught them, you’d just been walking home from the mess hall. You were in no hurry, all that awaited you when you went home was your bed and hopefully a good night's sleep. However you weren’t particularly tired and you wanted to enjoy the wonder of winter.

The main street hadn’t been busy, a few figures joining you along the sides of the road though they kept to themselves as you did. It was Jackson, you had no reason to be nervous, besides what was possibly scarier than what lived beyond the walls? It’s the only reason why you didn’t think anything of it when you hear heavy footsteps following you – you simply figured it was another resident trying to make their way to dinner or to the bar. Not much else to do at this time.

You continued to ignore the footsteps as you moved around the buildings on the street.

You think a lot about how that was your first mistake, that you should have seeked out refuge in one of the buildings or maybe broken out into a sprint. You should have turned around, maybe confronted him – shown him you weren’t any easy target.

Why hadn’t you?

You can’t even remember if you had screamed or not.

He cornered you so easily, shoving you into the alley between two buildings, his massive frame coming to dwarf over yours. His hand comes up to cover your mouth. It was almost impossible to see who he was, the lack of lighting in the alleyway only serving to add to your fear. You whimpered weakly behind his hand, terrified of what this man meant to do to you.

The stranger leans his head down, putting his lips to your ears, a shiver wracking through you. “Shh…” He coaxes gently. “Your little heart is going to explode and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

You try to plead against his hand but your sounds only come out muffled.

“Easy now. I’m not going to hurt you, not right now.” He murmurs absently, his free hand starts to trace its way down your form. It’s easy to figure out what it is he’s after, you’re not that naive.

You could have fought, struggled harder, maybe even bite his palm to allow you to scream.

You didn’t.

You try to mutter a ‘please’ behind his hand when his hand starts to unbutton the top of your jeans. You were too frozen in fear, any flight having left you the second you were caught off guard.

The snow flakes kissed your nose as his hand finally slid its way into your pants and beneath your underwear. You looked up, watching the snowfall as his fingers quickly found their way to your entrance. There was no preamble, no warning as he shoved them inside you.

It could have been the snow landing on your face, it could have been tears, you still aren’t sure which. The pain was violent, the burning stretch of his fingers in your dry entrance causing you to let out a muffled cry.

“I’d love to hear all your pretty noises, but you really gotta stay quiet for me right now.” The man's voice gruffed in your ear.

There was something vaguely familiar to it but it was distant, a vague recollection. His fingers were rough in their movements as his teeth nipped at your ear. His thumb finds its way to your clit, starting to rub small circles into it drawing a high pitched whine from your throat. You throw your head back against the wall, your whole body doing it’s best to get away from his touch.

Your face heats with embarrassment as you feel a sense of moisture gather between your thighs. You want to turn your head in shame but the man’s grip holds you in place.

“Stop strugglin’, be easier if you just fucking take it.” It’s a low growl that echoes in the small space you two are in. “You know you like it. Parading around like a perfect princess when I’m sure deep inside you're just a desperate whore.”

For a moment you believed him, maybe he was right with how you were getting slick from his ministrations, even the burning feeling of an orgasm was building in the pits of your stomach.

You try shaking your head, trying to get him even just a little bit further from you. He was pressed so tightly against you you could feel the bulge in his jeans, a terrifying reminder of just how perilous this situation was.

You remember the feeling of your hair coming free from your scalp. A terrible ripping pain that pulled at your follicles. “I’d suggest you sit still honey, this could be much much worse for you.”

At some point you had become slick enough for him to push another digit into you, the burning not having been as bad but it was still present the same. You could feel yourself clenching onto his fingers involuntarily, the pressure building was becoming too much. With little else to do than take what was given you come hard causing your vision to white out. You pant heavily into the hand covering your mouth, trying to suck in enough air.

“Just a desperate whore like the rest of them. Coming on a stranger's hand like that, you can’t tell me that doesn’t spell slut.” He licks the side of your face lewdly.

You almost cry in relief when his hand retreats from your pants and his form takes a step away from yours, though his hand still rests over your mouth.

“I’ll be seeing you, darlin’.” You think you catch a glimpse of his eyes in the distant light but it just proves too dark to see. “Keep out of trouble.”

He left you just as quick as he had come, a terrible specter stomping off into the night. You had slumped to the ground as soon as he was no longer holding you up, the snow bitterly nipping at your exposed skin.

The snow was so beautiful as it fell.

Now, you hated it.

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murdockjonescagerand · 9 months

Note

Alo!

I've got a request for a touch starved fem!reader x Joel. Where Joel doesn't like the readers touch (because he isn't into his emotions) so she starts trying to deal with it by using pillows or holding her own hand or snuggling with the heat of the sun. Once Joel finally craves the readers touch he starts to see how lonely she must feel. Hurt/comfort kinda!!

Thank youus

AN | We’ve got some hurt but a whole lotta comfort 💕

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Mild Language

Word Count | 2.8k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel Miller had never been a man to easily show his emotion. After having lost so much throughout the years, he was always ready for something else to be ripped. And he hated that about himself; he hated that he always seemed to keep a bit of a wall between himself and everyone else.

Then there was you - you'd managed to break down his walls more than he'd ever thought possible. You were such a light in his life, pure and sweet sunshine, that sometimes he was convinced you were much too good for him. But you were always there, always refusing to give up on him. And that was one of the many things he loved about you.

And you loved him too, despite the sea of differences. But there were times when you just wanted a little more. You desperately craved his touch and warmth to feel him more than what he was giving you. But you didn't know how to ask him for that. Didn't know how to break it to him and admit that you wanted more.

Instead you remained silent, you learned to depend on yourself for the touch and comfort you needed. But there were still times when you reached out to him, when you tried to push in order to see what you could pull from him. And it was never much, it still left you yearning. But you loved Joel and that was what mattered. You were sure that eventually…things would work themselves out.

They had to, right? Right?

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Joel?” you sat up in bed and looked around, trying to blink away the last bits of the nightmare that had woken you up. Joel’s back was to you and he was snoring softly, completely unbothered and unphased by your little outburst. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you contemplated whether or not to wake him up. After wiping away the tears that had rolled down your cheeks you laid back down. You turned towards your lover and wrapped an arm around his waist, trying to cuddle up to him.

After a few moments he felt him stiffen before squirming out of your touch. You sighed softly before rolling onto your back and staring at the ceiling. Despite him being right next to you, you felt so incredibly lonely and sad. All you wanted was a warm and comforting touch…but it didn’t look like you were getting that tonight. You slid out of bed and padded over to the closet, opening it and pulling a big stuffed bear that you had. You brought it back over to over to the bed and slid back in, clutching it tightly against your chest.

As much as you would have loved Joel’s touch, this would have to do for now.

When you woke up in the morning, the other side of the bed was already empty again. With a heavy heart, you reached over and brushed your arm across the bed and found that it was cold. He’d been gone for some time. You laid there for a while before managing to get up and take a shower.

The water felt so hot and perfect against your skin that you stood there for a while, much longer than it would take to wash and condition your hair and scrub your body. You just craved the warmth right now.

Eventually you made your way downstairs to the kitchen, the delicious smell of food hitting you all at once. Your stomach started to rumble as you walked in and found Ellie sitting at the table, nose buried in a book and Joel stood at the counter, cutting up some fresh fruit. It was little domestic moments like this that made it all worth it, even if your heart was sometimes left longing for a little more.

“Hello baby,” Joel offered you a soft smile before moving to get you a cup of coffee without you even needing to ask. He didn’t even remember last night, which made the silent rejection sting a little bit less, “how’d you sleep?”

You took the coffee he offered you, sipping on it for a moment before shrugging lightly, “fine. Just fine.”

He took a sip of his own black coffee, watching you closely. He clearly didn’t believe you, “is everything alright?”

“Of course-”

“You’ve never been a good liar,” Ellie looked up for a moment and looked between the two of you, “don’t know why you even bother trying.”

“Ellie,” Joel tried to sound serious, but you both knew that he didn’t mean it. You couldn’t help the small smile that pulled up the corner of your mouth, “mind your business, girl.”

“I’m just sayin’,” she snorted in amusement as she closed her book and grabbed the last bit of toast off her plate, “I’m gonna go over to Dina’s. I’ll be back later, parentals.”

You gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze as she walked by, “have fun, Ellie Bean.”

“You too,” she threw a wave over her shoulder before running out of the house.

That left just the two of you, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. Eddie wasn’t one to just let things go easily.

“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” you took an overly long sip of your coffee before setting the cup on the counter and taking Ellie’s abandoned seat at the table. Joel made a small before scooping all the fresh fruit he’d cut up into a bowl and bringing it over to you. He took a seat across from you before setting two forks down, “baby.”

“Jus’ had a nightmare, that’s all,” you dug into the bowl and popped a few berries into your mouth. Joel frowned but followed suit, “couldn’t sleep well.”

You hated how your voice cracked and gave you away. Joel knew that there was more that you weren’t telling him but he wasn’t sure how to get it out of you. He wasn’t exactly a man of many words and you were worried that your concerns were trivial. Besides, you would feel so stupid admitting to a man that you knew from the get wasn’t openly emotional that you craved his touch and tenderness. How were you ever supposed to admit that?

“You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?” he asked softly, nudging your foot under the table with yours. You mustered up a tight lipped smile and nodded, “okay. Listen, I have to go out for a few days with Tommy. Are you goin’ be okay by yourself with Ellie?”

“I think we can manage a few days without you, Miller,” this time you gave him a genuine smile that him relax slightly, “it’ll basically be a vacation.”

“Hey now,” he reached across the table and gave your hand a gentle squeeze, “no need to be cruel, baby. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll be missing you too,” his eyes lit up at that confession, “so I guess that means you have to come back, huh?”

“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” and yeah. Maybe he wasn’t the most overtly sensitive man, but he was the man you loved so fully and completely. He was a good and loving person underneath the hardened exterior.

“Me neither,” you promised softly, “me neither.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel had been gone for close to five days and you were missing him so much. More than you had anticipated. Ellie had been flitting back and forth between your house and Dina’s, asking sheepishly every time if she could go over. She didn’t want to leave you alone too much, but you couldn’t say no to her. She was just a teenager going through her first bout of puppy love - even if she denied it vehemently - and you wanted her to enjoy this time.

You promised her you were fine on your own, even though it was with a heavy heart.

Joel should have been home by now but you knew that these things often didn’t go according to plan. You were trying not to worry about him, and he always insisted you didn’t need to, but that never worked. You’d always worry about your loved ones.

When Joel did get home, it was late in the cool fall afternoon. Ellie was off doing something or other, but you were home. He’d expected that you would be up and about, not necessarily welcoming him with open arms, but…not curled up in the arm near the window. He dropped his bag by the front door and slowly made his way over to you, keeping his tread light and quiet.

A frown crossed his features as kneeled down to study you. You were curled up like a cat, laying in the brightest spot of sunshine that you had managed to find. The stuffed bear was cuddled in your arms and clutched to your chest, a blanket draped over your legs. The corners of your mouth were tugged down and for some reason, he knew exactly what was going on. You were searching for the comfort and warmth that you so desperately craved.

Tender touches that he never offered you. He grimaced at himself and scrubbed a hand over his tired face. You asked for so little and the thing you wanted most, he couldn’t even give you that much.

Joel hadn’t realized just how much you yearned for him until the places were swapped. His trip with Tommy had been the longest he’d been away from you since you’d gotten together. He hated being away from you and from Ellie, but he knew that sometimes it had to be done. Usually it just served to remind him how much he loved and needed you. He was okay on his own, but he was better with you.

He reached down and gently stroked your cheek, trying his best not to wake you up. Joel headed to put his bag away and shower and change into clean clothes. When he got back downstairs, you were still fast asleep but snoring softly, which brought a small smile to his face. He made his way into the kitchen and looked through everything, gathering ingredients to make dinner and dessert. It wasn’t much, he reckoned, but it was something.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the time you woke up, the sun had set and you were surrounded by the soft glow of the living room lamp. A delicious cacophony of smells hit you, and you sat up, rubbing the remaining bits of sleep from your eyes. You heard some soft humming coming from the kitchen and slowly stood up, setting down your bear and blanket down in the chair.

“Joel?” you called out his name softly as peeked into the kitchen. You found him at the stove, mixing away but as soon as he saw you, he turned around and stopped what he was doing, a giant smile on his face. You couldn’t help but match his smile as you took a few steps closer. He mirrored your actions and it was only a few moments before he pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in a tight, warm hug. It felt so good to feel his warmth and touch.

“Hi baby,” he pressed a few kisses to the side of your head; you could almost feel him physically melting and preening into your touch. He pulled back and took your face in his hands, looking you over before gently pressing a few kisses to your lips, “I missed you so much.”

“Oh,” that was enough to almost bring tears to your eyes. He missed you like you missed him, “I missed you too, Joel. A lot. ‘m glad you’re home, love.”

“Me too,” he pressed his forehead against yours and let out a soft sigh. You could tell that was on his mind, but didn’t want to press him. He usually always ended up telling you exactly what was wrong, “baby…I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” you chirped back at him and he nodded slowly, taking a step back and leaning against the counter. You could see his shoulders slumped as he hung his head, “whatever are you sorry for?”

“For how I’ve been treating you,” he peeked up and caught your eye, only to find a confused expression on your face. You were so sweet, so kind and selfless that you didn’t even know.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you reached over and gently touched his cheek, brushing your knuckles over the warm skin, “tell me.”

“You…I know I’m not a touchy, warm feelings type of man,” a surprised look flickered across your features as you swallowed thickly. You thought you had hid and masked your disappointment so well, but apparently you hadn’t been as subtle as you thought, “I never really have been, and that has ever had anything to do with you. It’s been me.”

“Joel, I-”

“Hold on baby, please,” he gently put his arms on your biceps and gently squeezed them, “let me finish, or else I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get all of this out there. Okay?”

“Okay,” your lip twitched up in a small little half smile, “go on then, love.”

“I know there were times when you’d come closer to me or I could feel that you were wanting more, the touch and love I wasn’t giving you. It hurt me too sometimes because it made me feel like I wasn’t good enough for you. But, I’m a lot of things, probably including an ass, but I’m also selfish. And I never wanted to let you go.”

You wanted to interrupt, but decided against it, nudging him gently to go on.

“But I could tell that it’s - I’ve - been letting you. Not giving you what you need or deserve,” he let out a nervous exhale and the room grew so quiet that you could hear the soft ticking of the clock and children laughing and screaming in the distance. It seemed like such a long time before he said anything, “I didn’t realize how much it could have affected you. But then, while I was off with Tommy, I realized…how much I missed you.”

“Me?”

“You, of course you,” he reached up and put his hand on the back of your neck, this thumb stroking gently against your skin, “I realized just how much I missed your touch and love a-and everything. I wanted nothing more than your touch and warmth. I realized that if I missed it that much, I can’t even imagine how much you were missing it. So, I’m sorry for never realizing, and sorry for never giving it back to you.”

“Oh,” you looked at him with wide eyes, opening and closing your mouth a few times. You hadn’t expected him to ever get to that realization and the fact that he was so cognizant about it made your heart swell a few sizes, “oh. Joel, that’s…..wow. I, umm…I never wanted to ask for more. I didn’t want to push you or make you uncomfortable.”

“Why didn’t you leave?” he asked softly and you couldn’t help the scoff that escaped your lips. Breaking things off with Joel had never even crossed your mind…it might have been one of the very last things on your mind truthfully.

“Joel, I love you - I’m in love with you,” it was like you had said some sort of magic words because his entire face lit up. His big brown eyes grew softer and a tired smile crossed his lips, “just because we have different things we need and crave doesn’t mean we need to break up. We love each other, and that’s what matters. Everything else works itself out.”

“I want to do better,” he whispered as you shook your head at him, “l’m going to try and do better. Just…you know I’m slow with things sometimes. I might need you to help me out for a bit and tell me what you need. I’m a fast learner though so…”

“Okay,” you were smiling now, a pretty thing that made Joel’s tummy flip and made him want to pepper your face in kisses, “I can do that. Promise me you’ll do the same thing?”

“Of course,” he agreed softly, “of course. I promise.”

“Good,” you put your hand on his chest and leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek, “now c’mon. Let’s finish dinner and dessert. Ellie should be home soon and I know she’s been missing you too.”

“Considering how much I missed my girls, I’d hoped she missed me,” the two of you were grinning at each other like fools - but you wouldn’t have it any other way, “I love you so much, baby.”

“I love you too, Joel. Lots and lots.”

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murdockjonescagerand · 9 months

Text

wakeup

1k, raider!Joel x f!reader

Raider master list ⭐ Joel master

reader-curated playlist | sweet pea (smut songs)

SUMMARY: PWP, really, all in bed. He comes, you go to the bathroom and fall asleep when you return, then you wake up stuffed full of it again for another round. A/N: it's not much but it's longer than the original raider "one shot" lol. can read alone, or for max smut the whole sequence is ✨night air, then the asleep inside blurb then this (ask). WARNINGS: No plot, somnophilia, unsafe p in v, creampies

Joel's arms are wrapped around you, his little spoon. Your bodies have been glued together for hours, both asleep and awake. He's grunting and sighing into your hair now, and his sounds make it easy to picture the snarl on his face. The softer Joel from hours ago is gone, but even as he gives it to you hard--and god, it gives it to you good--the buzz lingers on your neck from the tender brush of his lips.

You've been plugged up by his cock all night, and he’s about to double the load inside you. His breath falters and he adjusts his grip, palming a breast. His arms squeeze around you, his hips slam into you, an he pulses massively with a long sigh, releasing a fresh, warm load. You sigh as you're filled beyond full. Each pulse of his cock is a burst of warmth in your core and your chest. His arms loosen only slightly. He plants his lips on your neck and sucks the tender skin into his mouth before releasing it, then relaxing his head again on your pillow.

"Good girl," he pants, catching his breath.

You lie like that until you nearly fall back asleep again. You don’t want to get up, but you finally have to go to the bathroom. As you shift to move toward the edge of the bed, his cock slides out. He hums a small, dissatisfied, half-asleep, "mm?" In the bathroom, you mourn the cum that trickles out of you. When you get back in bed, he’s snoring softly. You curve yourself into him as a small spoon and he reflexively pulls you in against him. His softening cock is sticky against your back.

You reach behind you for it, wanting it back inside. You whisper "Joel."

He slurs, “jus'a minute,” but falls fast asleep and doesn't budge. You fall asleep, too.

—---

At some point, he sleepily nestles his cock between your thighs, and it gets hard again. He slides it in small pulses against your slippery seam. You sigh in your sleep and get really wet, adding to the mess of cum between your legs. He does it until it seems like you're about to wake up. Then, before you do, he presses on your mound, middle finger on your clit, to tilt your hips toward him. He aligns his tip and pushes it just inside you.

He has his right arm under your neck. He holds a breast with that hand as his left holds your mound for leverage. He begins to push into you, and when he’s far enough in to be sure the angle is just right, he plunges into your tight, moist hole, parting your insides with a sigh. Your back arches reflexively with a sweet little sigh. Oh, sweet pea. Your sweet little sounds get him every time. He pulls back a few inches then buries his length in you again, bottoming out with a moan, then your name in a whisper.

He’s back where he belongs.

—

You wake up just before dawn wrapped in his embrace, stuffed full of his cock, with his breath hot and humid in your hair, his body curved around yours. You sigh and cover his hand on your breast with yours, a sweet little good morning gesture. He thrusts again, feeding your drooling cunt more of his dick. “Ya like this, sweet pea? Gettin’ it all night?”

You sigh, “yeah,” as his cock stuffs you full again. His hand on your mound tenses and his fingers move against your clit. You twitch and moan.

He responds, "Mmm," repeating the motion.

He sheathes himself in you at a steady rhythm, breathing heavily and occasionally whispering. “Want it all the time, don't ya?” You really wouldn’t mind doing it all day. If only he would stay home with you. “Feel so good, baby.” It feels so good you can't form words. “Take it so good.”

It’s daybreak outside. If only you could freeze everything so the night never ends.

His chest is dewy against your back. He’s curved around you for as much of your skin against his as he can get. His breathing gets heavier. Your insides are so swollen with tension, you could come any minute. He fucks you faster, keeping his hand planted on your mound for leverage, wriggling it a little lower, dipping his fingers between your legs, nudging your clit, breathing heavily. You push back on him, whimpering.

“Good girl,” he breathes into your hair. His fingers begin to move in rhythm.

“Joel,” you whine. It feels like you’re on the edge forever. Your nipples harden and he covers one with his palm and a low moan. Your hair is getting sticky and tickles with the perspiration. A sharp thrust sends you up on the pillow and he pulls you closer, tighter.

He fucks you and works his fingers and it swells inside you, closer and closer, until the tension bursts and overwhelms you with pleasure. You whimper as your body jerks and your cum-coated walls choke his cock.

"Good girl," he whispers, and you keep pulsing. "Yeah, that's good, baby,” he's slowly fucking you through it til his voice becomes uneven. "That's good, sweet pea," he murmurs shakily.

“Joel,” you whimper again, still squeezing his cock with your climax. You sigh and whimper, your body pressing into his with each wave of pleasure.

“Fuck,” Joel's massive hand engulfs your hip, he grabs on and holds you still. He slams into you, bottoms out, and erupts with a deep "mmmm." The warmth of his release fills you as he draws in a long breath, then sighs. "Ohhh,” he pumps inside you, “Mmm,” filling you more, “oh baby," topping off his prior loads, some of it leaking out with his slow thrusts. “Sweet pea,” His voice fades out into your hair as he finishes.

He nuzzles his nose in your hair and you fall sleep for the last time this morning.

Joel doesn't. He doesn't fall back asleep, but he lies there with you anyway, his arm wrapped over you. He just lies there, eyes closed, feeling your body, feeling you breathe, feeling soothed. Eventually, his thoughts wander to his brutality with the man the night before, and he's more sure than ever that anyone who even thinks about touching you has it coming. His heart rate spikes, and his arms tighten--you're his.

Thank you so much for reading and interacting. It means so much to me when you show raider joel your love!!! I notice and love y'all 🖤🖤🖤 raider joel's 6 month birthday is this month, BOLO for a special moment or two. . . to the long haulers, tysm for being so invested and loyal. to the newcomers, welcome!! buckle up, lots more to come.

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friendly reminder that he was snipped pre outbreak, no babies on the horizon.

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All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading

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murdockjonescagerand · 9 months

Text

Love Me Back, Ch III: The Moon Jelly

Joel Miller x f!reader

Series masterlist

Series summary: Who catches you when you let go of your comforts and chase what you fear is out of reach?

Warnings: Smut (Joel and MC!!!), no outbreak AU, angst, age gap (Joel is 40, reader is 27), mutual pining, size kink, no use of y/n, fingering, handjob, dirty talk, therapy session, insecurity, self destructive tendencies, so many jellyfish.

Word count: 8.3k Rating: 18+ AO3

“I met a.. a guy,” you say, scratching at the fabric of the armrest as you sit on the couch across from Jen, seeing her smile a little, “And I made such an ass out of myself”. She looks at you with a hint of doubt, “Oh?”. You sigh, looking at the ceiling and noticing how much you’re slouching. “We met at my work, actually, and I thought he was so hot but I never got his name or anything. Then I met him again at Lana’s birthday party this weekend and it turns out he’s, like, my brother-in-law's older brother. He has a daughter, who's ten and also into marine biology, so I hung out with her... Anyway, me and this guy, Joel, sat and talked forever and it was so fun and then I- I came home and just felt so fucking bad about myself. And the next day I invited him and Sarah to this thing at the university like some sort of lunatic and- Jesus Christ”.

“You had fun, you met an attractive man you enjoyed talking to, you got along with his daughter.. What’s the problem here?” she asks with a wink, all too familiar with how you catastrophize. “I don’t know, I- I felt like he saw me, like the real me, you know? Nobody should be subjected to that shit” you say, exasperated, with your face in your hands. “What should they be subjected to?” she asks. “Me when I’m super productive and hot and like-”. She cuts you off gently, “Perfect?”, and you look up at her. “In an ideal world.. Yeah. Then I’d feel like I deserve someone like him”.

There’s already a bit of a crowd gathering outside the auditorium as you walk in the door, with Sarah having gone on about the life cycle of a moon jelly since she jumped out of her father’s truck. She talks and talks, and even though you already know everything she’s telling you, you act as shocked as you possibly can and ask questions to spur her on. You watch Joel out of the corner of your eye, looking at the two of you with his arms folded and a subtle smile he can’t hide, and notice a softness in his face or, perhaps, just a lack of stress and concern.

You ask Sarah a follow-up question and, when she starts talking again, you glance up at Joel, taking in how his shoulders look in his green button down shirt, how fluffy his hair looks, just like the day you met, and how the muscles in neck move as he swallows. He looks back at you, breathing calmly, smiling a little more and letting his eyes stay locked to yours until you break away. You look at his hands, how his thick fingers wrap around one of his biceps. His gaze is fixated on your eyes, initially shifting back and forth between you and Sarah but eventually staying on you.

You start to head in, Sarah grabbing your hand to lead the way and you looking back at Joel with a shrug and a giggle. He holds the door open as Sarah drags you inside the lecture hall, and you feel Joel’s palm on your back for just a second before it disappears again. You take your seats, Sarah sitting between you two, beaming and clapping as the jellyfish expert shows up, staying engaged and excited throughout, holding your hand the whole time and shaking it a little when something is particularly engaging. Even Joel is immersed, his hand coming up to cover his mouth as he nods and his brows scrunch at certain moments. You want to giggle, seeing this big muscular man sitting in deep concentration as he learns about different types of jellies, watching his chest expand calmly, and catching him occasionally looking over at Sarah, who pays him no attention at all.

Sarah tells you a story while you wait for Joel to order takeout for the three of you, forcing the words out as she’s taken over by a case of the giggles so severe she’s stuttering and stumbling over her words. “So this one time, me and my dad were at the beach,” she starts to say, already erupting into laughter, “And I saw these two teenage boys, right? And one of them picked up this huge jellyfish, it was like this big”. She holds her hands up to create an image of a jellyfish the size of a small plate. “And then- and-”, another round of giggles, holding around her stomach, “The- the one guy took the jellyfish and- and threw it in his- in his- in his friend’s face!”. She bursts into laughter again, twisting and turning where she stands, and you can’t help but laugh with her as she tries to mimic the slapping sound of the massive jellyfish covering this poor boy’s face.

Joel comes back with a bag full of containers, watching the two of you with a look of confusion as you’re both in stitches. You laugh even harder, to the point of tears, as she starts to retell it on the way to the truck. “Do you- do you remember when- when”, is all she gets out in a span of ten seconds, succumbing to laughter and barely getting into the backseat of the truck without falling over. “When we- we were at the beach and- and”, you can see Joel rolling his eyes, chuckling a little as he pulls out of the parking lot and glances at Sarah in the mirror, trying to figure out where this story is going. It clearly is one of many times that he’s had to sit through rounds and rounds of giggling and laughing before she gets to the point, but he’s patient as can be, letting her spend the entire ride home getting to said point and reminding him of the incident he never even saw with his own eyes.

You arrive at their house and Sarah quickly drags you upstairs while Joel sets the table, so eager to show you something very special in her room. “Ta da!” she says and throws her arms up as you walk in, and you look around for a second before spotting the wall to your right. “My dad painted it for me” she says, and runs her hands over the light blue wall covered in all different types of little painted fish. Oh my god, you whisper, genuinely impressed by this artwork, having never guessed that Joel would’ve created something like this. He’d build her an entire house without thinking twice, you’re sure, but meticulously painting a bunch of fish is something you can’t imagine anyone having the patience for.

It seems like there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for his little girl, based on the stories you’ve heard from Lana about Sarah and her dad, and the things you’ve seen for yourself. You’re pretty sure she has been gifted the best dad that exists out there, so loving and patient and safe, raising her to be enthusiastic and kind and confident. It makes your heart swell, and you hope so desperately that nobody gets in her way, that no teachers ever give up when she’s struggling, that nobody tries to dismiss her when she cares about something.

You sit down on the floor in front of the wall and listen as she tells you what each type of fish is, and it makes you, at once, very happy and very sad. Happy for Sarah, happy for a little girl whose interests are encouraged and taken seriously, who can flourish and feel that she’s good at something, who has people around her cheering her on, like Joel and Lana and Tommy, even you as well, now, giving her the unconditional love and support that every little girl needs. And it makes you unbearably sad for your younger self, who didn’t even dare to dream of knowing as much as Sarah does now, who wasn’t given the space and support so early in life to discover her passions, who didn’t dare think of herself as good at much of anything until turning twenty five.

“Food’s ready”, you hear Joel’s booming voice from downstairs, and Sarah jumps up, taking your hand again and dragging you down the stairs, to where the dining table is set and Joel is pouring your glass of water. “That wall in Sarah’s room” you say and look at him in awe, slowly sitting down and seeing as he gets a little shy, waving a dismissive hand at you, “Eh, it was a fun project when I had a week off last year, Sarah helped a lot”. “No, I didn’t” she objects, muffled by a mouth full of chicken. “I told him-” she says, interrupting herself to swallow as Joel cuts in, “Baby, you are gonna choke on your goddamn food if you don't slow down”. She doesn’t seem to care as she continues, “I told him that he missed a spot, and he just looked at me like-”. She makes a face, imitating her father. “Like that!” she says and points at his resting scowl.

The three of you finish eating and Sarah gives you both a hug goodnight before disappearing up the stairs, and you both listen in silence for the sounds of her brushing her teeth and closing her door before Joel gets up, holding a finger to his lips, careful not to make any noise as he quietly goes into the kitchen and opens the fridge. He looks over his shoulder as he pulls out a small box, then carefully opens a drawer to pick out two small forks and comes back to the table, setting it down and padding over to the staircase, pausing for a moment before he comes back.

“Sarah has one of those ocean sound machines on at night to help her sleep” he says as he sits down adjacent to you and hands you a fork, “Had to make sure she’s out so she doesn’t catch us eating this”. He glances behind you for a second before he opens the box to reveal a slice of cake, and you try your best to contain your excitement. “Why do they sell Cheesecake Factory at a Portuguese restaurant?” you whisper as he nods for you to take the first bite, and you give him a wide eyed thumbs up as he watches you taste it.

“I don’t know”, he shrugs as he stabs the cake with his fork, “Would you prefer if they didn’t?”. You grimace, “No? It would ruin my life”. He chuckles a little before the room fills with silence and you both alternate taking bites. The entire ground floor of his house is dark, only illuminated by the lights under the kitchen cupboards ever since the sun went down. It’s just the two of you there, looking around, at each other intermittently, as you share the cake, with your knees touching under the table.

“So, um, when are we going to Puerto Rico?” you ask as he pushes the last bite towards you. “Good question.. Are you free in-”, he checks his watch, “Half an hour? Just gotta put all my belongings in a sheet and tie it around a stick”. You snort a little, careful not to choke on frosting, “You travel light?”. “Yeah”, he says and looks up and down your face, “Unlike you with your hundred crabs”. You roll your eyes, shaking your head at your unhinged attempt at humor the last time you saw him. “What an insane thing to say to somebody you’ve met once… Jesus”.

He smiles at you as he spins the fork around in his hand, “Well, what are you bringing then, if not the crabs?”. You think on it for a second, mull it over and look at his eyes, his nose, his mustache, his beard, then his eyes again, staying there as they draw you in. “I thought I’d just throw a toothbrush and a pair of underwear in the suitcase and call it a day”, you shrug, and he hums a little. “That's literally how my mom packs for vacation” you say then. “For real?” he asks with amusement. “Yeah,” you sigh, “We would go visit family when I was growing up and that's all she’d pack, I have this very vivid mental image of it.. And you know what my dad would do?”.

“He really liked the salsa from this one specific restaurant in his hometown,” you say, recognizing Joel's smile from Lana’s party when you talked about the blue beach, “And they sold it in jars, and both of my parents really like this one jeans store as well, okay?”. Mhm, he nods and puts both elbows on the table, subtly leaning in towards you. “So he would buy all this salsa, wrap the jars in the jeans, and then check a whole suitcase with these jeans-salsa-rolls” you say with a straight face.

“It was that good, huh?” he asks, chuckling again. “Yeah, apparently…”, you shake your head and blink a few times, looking at the crumbs on the table, “Dads, am I right? Or maybe mine just has a strange affliction of some sort and this story should go on his file”. He laughs, a deep rumble coming from his chest and little creases forming below his eyes. “Don’t laugh,” you tease, pushing his forearm then leaving your hand close to his on the table, “One day it'll be you wrapping salsa in jeans”. He nods, “And you packing nothin’ but underwear and a toothbrush?”. “Yeah, but those are my jeans you're using as salsa padding, so I'll have stuff to wear” you argue, trying to sound serious. “What about shirts?” he asks then.

“I’ll just take your sheet and wrap it around myself” you snark, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “So now it's a toga party?”, his brows knit in confusion. Fuck off you mutter, and the two of you are silent for a little while, both chuckling under your breath, eventually making eye contact. His expression grows serious as he looks at you, as if he’s deep in thought, studying your eyes. You blink slowly, not wanting to miss a second of taking him in, relishing in his undivided attention, the feel of his knee against yours and the scent of his cologne from across the corner of the table.

“I’m so into you” he says, breathlessly, gazing at you so intensely you feel like a deer in headlights. You feel your eyes widen as your breathing speeds up, the muscles in your hands going slack, almost shaking. Your reaction seems to worry him a little, his eyebrows raising as if he’s snapped out of a trance, “And I’m sorry if that's abrupt or out of the blue but I just- I can't help it, I’m sorry. I’m so attracted to you, I-”. His eyes shift between yours, trying to find the right words as you notice the slight tremble of his big, warm hand, “I don’t- You've probably noticed it too, I- I’m not nearly as subtle as I try to be”. He lets out a bit of a laugh, and you’re not quite sure if it's meant to sound self-deprecating.

“I’m really into you too” you say, overwhelmed by the intense eye contact and glancing around a while, biting the inside of your cheek to stop smiling. He looks down for a moment, and when he looks back up, his eyes are fixated on you. You feel self conscious all of a sudden, flustered and somehow exposed, and the heat creeps up your neck, already making your underarms perspire as it makes its way to your face. You’re probably so hunched over, but all of your muscles are frozen and you can’t move. His dark eyes trace down along your features and settle on your lips for a beat before he asks, “Can I kiss you?”.

You nod, whispering a breathless and needy yeah, and he leans over the corner of the table, his hand coming up to cradle your jaw. You feel the heat of his palm radiate in your skin, and watch as his face comes closer, your eyes not closing until his lips meet yours and you hold your breath as he kisses you. You open up a little more and he shifts the angle of your face, letting his tongue sweep into your mouth, slick and warm, forcing the air out of your lungs. You nibble on his lower lip, and he sucks yours into his mouth, spreading his fingers to wrap around the back of your neck as his thumb keeps your face tilted up. You’re certain he can feel your rapid pulse under his skin, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

With your hand in his hair, you carefully stand up, and he sinks a little deeper in his chair, spreading his thighs as he pulls you in, his hands wrapping around your waist. He grabs you by the back of your thighs and hoists you onto him, letting you settle onto his lap while your tongue sweeps along his, a little whimper escaping your throat as your heart pounds in your chest. He breaks the kiss, pulling away to run his nose up and down the side of your neck, and leave a single kiss under the corner of your jaw. “Couch is a little more comfortable” he whispers, and kisses your neck again before he picks you up, wraps your legs around him and carries you to the living room.

He sits down with you wrapped around him like a koala, and he lets his hands drag down your sides, glide over your ass and squeeze your flesh firmly while you tighten the grip of your arms around the back of his neck. He groans deep, deep in his chest and licks the inside of your mouth even deeper, becoming sloppy as you give him more of your tongue.

You start to wind your hips, only making the effort a few times before you feel his hands guiding you, pressing you down onto the hard bulge in his jeans, feeling his forced exhale against your skin every time you grind down. The feeling of his hardness against you makes you whimper a little, unable to stifle the sign of your arousal, and the soft grunt you hear in return makes you clench and tighten, straddling his hips tighter with your thighs as you lick into him ravenously.

Your nails scratch back and forth along the top of his back, right below the collar of his shirt, up along his neck and onto the back of his head, and his head tilts back ever so slightly, a shudder passing through him when your hand slips further down. You pull back from his face to press kisses down along the side of his throat, feeling the thick hair of his beard tickling your cheek as you whisper, “Take off your shirt”. Then you sit back, letting your hands fall to his chest and watching the subtle contortions of his face as he rocks you back and forth, his hands firmly holding your waist, your chest and stomach following the movement like a wave running through your body.

“We shouldn’t do this so soon” he murmurs, and there’s not an ounce of conviction in his voice. He could’ve done this the day you met and gotten down on one knee the day of Lana’s party, but something tells him to be careful, to handle you with care, to take it slow with you, to not rush you and scare you off. Holding back, however, is not his strong suit. I know, you whisper in response, running your hand through his hair.

"We’ve met three times,” he says then, wracking his brain for reasons why he shouldn’t rip your clothes off and take you right there on this couch, some sort of tangible barrier between the two of you. I know, again, this time with a smile and your hand wrapped around the column of his throat as you kiss at his jaw.

“Tommy told me not to fuck you” he says, almost teasing and a last ditch effort at slamming the breaks before he gets a taste of you and can never go back to living without you again. “Okay, well,” you purr as you start unbuttoning his shirt slowly, “You don’t have to fuck me.. He didn’t say you couldn’t do anything else, did he?”.

He shakes his head, watching your body as you move, looking up at your eyes and noticing the point at which your breath hitches a little, keeping you right there and grinding you into him. You feel the wet fabric of your panties rubbing against your clit, and you stand no chance at fighting your eyelids getting heavy and lips parting, giving away how desperately you want him, how he’s making you feel. “How about this,” he says, low and breathy and coaxing, as his one hand slips down onto the top of your thigh, his thumb gently sweeping over your clit outside the fabric of your leggings, “I’ll make you come with just my hands, okay?”.

He pushes a little and rubs up and down for a second, right where you want him, and he watches as you shudder, trying to hide your reaction. “We’ll- we’ll get rid of the tension,” he says then, “And we can talk about our feelings later, and-”. “Yeah,” you interrupt while nodding, “Hand stuff doesn't count, so, we’re- we’re good”. Okay, he whispers with amusement, and pulls you in with his free hand to sweep his tongue into your mouth, as his thumb circles your clit again and you start to squirm, whimpering into his lips.

"Let’s go upstairs, baby” he says, wrapping both arms around your waist and holding you as he stands up, gently setting you down to the floor as he takes your hand in his and guides you to his bedroom, both of you running carefully up the staircase like two sixteen year olds who are home alone and realize they can make out.

Carefully, he closes and locks the door behind him as you step inside, and gently takes your face in his hands, leaning down to kiss you slowly, with all the patience in the world, as you start to unbutton his shirt, pushing it over his shoulders as it loosens and dragging your palm over the hair on his chest, feeling how warm he is, how sturdy and muscular he is underneath his clothes. And when he finally shucks it off, he pulls you in by your waist, grabs the hem of your shirt and pulls it over your head and your arms, sliding a hand along your jaw to tilt you open and hold your neck while the other unhooks your bra and slips it off, then moving onto your leggings, holding your hand as you step out of them.

You give him a long look as you work at his belt, then his zipper, taking in the wide expanse of his chest, his impossibly broad shoulders, the tan covering his skin from spending time outside with Sarah over the last few months. A few threads of silver peak through his chest hair, and you leave his zipper open to play with those strands before touching the softness of his stomach, looking up into his eyes the entire time, unable to see anything past where he’s standing, towering over you and circling your waist with his hands. “Jesus, you look so fucking good” he whispers, as his eyes rove over your body, and you thank him shyly, as he leans down to kiss you. Your hand slides down from his chest, all the way until it hits the fabric and you dip your fingertips into his waistband. You trace along his skin, and there's not even a sliver of resistance when they dip a little further, creating a faint scratching sound from the drag of your nails on the hair there.

He walks you over to the bed as more of your hand slips in and you feel a twitch at the base of his cock against your skin. He groans, deep and strained, as his hands come under your arms and he lifts you onto his pillows, laying you down gently, shucking off his jeans and sitting back on his heels in between your legs. His hands run over your thighs, your hips, your stomach, and up to your chest, where he traces his thumbs over your nipples, and leans down to take one into his mouth, lick around it and gently flick it with his tongue, rubbing the other with two fingers.

“These stay on, alright?” he says between heavy breaths, gesturing towards his boxers, “We’ll need.. Some sort of barrier here, or else I’ll, uh-”. “Yes, yeah, good idea” you interrupt. He hovers over you, your head caged in by his bulging arms on either side, his body pushing your legs open as he sinks down on to you and you wrap your legs around his thick waist, digging your heels into his spine as you pull him down to taste him again. He grinds his erection into you, up your clothed seam, and you follow his rhythm, rolling your cunt down the length of him, feeling the contours of his hard cock.

His scent fills your nostrils, his cologne having developed on his skin all day and emanating from his chest, the smell of his sweat from under his arms, so intoxicating it makes you break away from his lips and dig your face into his neck. You listen to his heavy breaths and soft grunts while he tries to fuck you through those two thin layers of clothing still separating you, feeling how he tenses up to hold back, to remain calm and not toss you around and fuck you senseless. You wonder if he would fuck you raw, if he would come inside you and mark you, if he would let himself.

“Look at you.. Stunning” he murmurs as he starts to kiss down your neck, along the fullness of your chest and softness of your stomach, with his big, warm hands following him to glide down your sides, planning to cover every inch of you with his lips and tongue if you let him. He looks up at you, “Can I take these off?”, and you smile as he slips a single finger on each hand into the strappy little waistband of your panties and drags them down, whispering, a quiet fuck me, when he spreads your knees and reveals your naked sex, puffy and flushed and glistening with need for him.

You try to control the full body trembles that threaten to rip through you as you lay there and watch him pull your lacy little thong over your ankles and toss it aside, an excuse of a piece of clothing, then look at the obscene bulge in his sage green boxers, the dark, soaked through marks running up his length from you, and one at his tip, revealing right where his precome has dripped through. Your core tightens at the sight, at the mere idea of having his wet, sticky spend inside you and on you.

Then he pushes your legs apart, and guides them down to the bed before he settles between your thighs, supporting himself on his elbows and holding you open with the breadth of his shoulders. A warm, comforting palm soothes across your stomach as he watches your shaky breathing, your chest barely rising and falling until he whispers, “None of that, angel.. Just relax, I’ll take good care of you”. Your breaths even out a little and he nods, still monitoring you, not moving an inch until you sink deeper to the mattress and rest your read on the pillow. The feel of his tongue running up your seam makes your back pull together, arching high as a moan falls from your lips, and he’s gone. “Fuck, just hands, sorry” he murmurs, more to himself than to you, get it together.

He sits back on his heels and takes a deep breath, looks up at the ceiling, presumably looking for some sort of self control, then exhales as he shakes his head and gazes down at you. You watch a swallow pass through his throat, his chest expanding with another inhale, and he leans forward, supported on his knuckles, as you reach up to tangle your fingers in his hair. “Lean back on me, okay?” he asks, slipping a hand under your back, “I’ll make you feel good, let me in behind you”. And you do as he says, sitting up to let him settle against the headboard with you between his legs.

“Spread your legs for me,” he coaxes, gently lifting your thighs and placing them over his own to open you up, “There you go, are you comfortable?”. His care and attention are almost overwhelming, making you want to lay there like a floppy starfish and let him do absolutely anything he wants to you. His palm finds your jaw and tilts your face towards him, looking for your assurance, given with a nod and a careful smile, very comfortable, before he kisses you deeply, letting his free hand roam your body, run along the inside of your thigh, the outside, up the soft curve of your tummy, and brushing lightly over your mound, letting his hand cup you and the tips of his fingers ghost up your slit, turning the ache in your clit into a desperate throb, verging on painful.

“I’ll make it better, don't worry” he coos, and leans your head onto him, “So wet.. Is that all for me?”. Yeah, you breathe, the word coming out as little more than a whimper when you feel his cock throbbing against your lower back and your core contracts with a shudder. “You’re tense,” he whispers, “Stretch your back for me”. He places a flat hand right below your sternum as you lift your arms, and he pushes between your shoulder blades with the other until he hears a few little pops and cracks, followed by his soft chuckle. “I’ll rub your back later, don't worry” he murmurs into the nape of your neck, and settles you back into his chest with your head leaning into his neck, your face tilted to feel the scruff of his beard along the tip of your nose.

“Can you touch your nipples for me?” he asks, and you oblige with no hesitation, bringing your hands up to roll them between your fingers. "Good girl" you hear, groaning a little at the sensation, at how it sends another wave of arousal through you, going right to your pussy, already fluttering and desperately needing something inside. His hands trace down your body, up and down your sides, across the width of your thighs, hooking under your knees to spread you open just a little more, then back up as he presses kisses to your neck. The column of your throat lengthens when your ear hits his shoulder and he licks a long stripe up the side, and finally, when you’ve arched your back and pushed your ass into the wet fabric of his boxers, you feel the pad of his finger at your entrance, coated with slick after merely a moment, spreading it over your clit as he begins to rub.

The slow, soft circles around your bundle of nerves make it swell even more, your blood flow going directly between your legs and making you moan as he applies just a little bit of pressure, starting to rub more firmly as his other hand massages the inside of your thigh. You moan, low and needy and guttural, feeling the calmness of his chest rising against your back, and yourself relaxing, becoming pliant and boneless under his touch. The hand on your thigh moves to your entrance and his middle finger teases your opening for a few excruciatingly long seconds before he glides it in, all the way to the knuckle, soaking it completely with your slick and sucking him in when retracts to add his ring finger. They sink in, and you mold around him, your walls tightening to keep him right where he is and your body refusing to let him go when he slowly slides them halfway out to rub along your tender, fleshy insides.

He immediately finds your most tender spot and curls his fingers to pet at it, making you involuntarily stretch your back again and start rocking your hips, feeling the stimulation inside you, on your clit and on your nipples pushing you into a state of bliss so deeply you that can barely think coherently, only responding with a string of mumbled moans and whimpers when he asks, softly, “Does that feel good for you?”. You think you might manage to nod, eyes closed and mouth open, exerting all of your energy on keeping your thumbs rubbing your nipples, pushing you closer to the edge with every press into your opening and every circle drawn on your little nub by the pad of his finger.

And when you think you could not possibly handle another degree of arousal, you hear his voice in your ear again, deep, breathy, and smooth like honey, “Keep playing with yourself, baby, fuck, you look so beautiful”. You swear you hear a grunt as his hard cock rubs up against your lower back and he digs his face into your neck, rubbing your clit faster and feeling you shudder. You whine, “Too- too much, Joel, I- can’t-”, feeling every nerve in your body setting on fire as you try to buck your hips, held down in place by his forearms. “You can do it, sweetheart, just come, it’s okay” he coos, and your entire body goes rigid at his words.

Your walls pulse around him as you come, and the sensation spreads up from where he’s working you, through your core, up your chest and down your thighs. You barely register when you gush into his empty palm, hearing him talk you through the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had, “Just like that, keep coming for me”. He gently lets go of your clit and slides his hand under you to squeeze a handful of your ass while he continues to curl his fingers inside you. “Feels so good, doesn't it?” he whispers into your neck, and you muster up the energy to nod, mhmm. He smiles and kisses at the base of your skull, still whispering, “I could just keep going forever, huh?”. Another exhausted nod from you, and then his calm voice, “Yeah, you’d like that”.

He lets you come down, stroking the skin of your legs and your tummy, holding you close to him, scattering kisses all over your shoulder, until you turn around to face him and he helps you up, around, and into his lap. You settle onto him, your naked folds spread over the thickness of his clothed cock, and his hands massaging your hips, slowly rocking you back and forth as he looks into your eyes. He is mesmerizing, his thick chest flushed with red and the heft of his cock pushing against the fabric of his boxers with enough force to lift the waistband away from his skin. It’s nearly impossible to comprehend that this man just made you come, that someone of his beauty and physicality and skill wanted to give all of that to you of all people. You wonder what you possibly could have done to deserve being in bed with this man. To be touched by him so affectionately, paid attention to so closely and responded to as if he’d known your body for years.

“You’re so stunning, babygirl.. Gorgeous” he murmurs, his eyes raking over your body with a look that can only be described as awe. “Coming from you?” you snort, pshhh, pushing at his thick shoulder, watching how his muscles move under his skin. He smiles, rolls his eyes lovingly and shifts his hands around to splay over your lower back, pulling you closer to him so he can press kisses to your chest and neck. “What are you like in bed?” you ask, trying to sound somewhat innocent, rubbing your nose against his thick, curly hair. He shrugs a little, the subtle movement making your entire body raise with the breadth of him. “Hard to say” he chuckles against your skin, pulling back to look at you while the tips of his fingers massage the tension out of your back, “Depends on the situation, I guess.. And the person I’m with”.

“Well,” you prod, tilting your head to sweeten the forward nature of your inquiry, “What do you like?”. His eyes shift around a little before he looks back at you, “I like it when the woman I’m with is vocal, when she tells me what she likes or when I’m doing somethin’ that ain't working”. He pushes your hair over your shoulder, tracing it as it falls down onto your back, and he continues, “This might sound strange but… With you, I- I can feel it, somehow, you’re very responsive when I touch you. I like that”. You giggle, feeling vulnerable suddenly, but equally safe, under his gaze and in his capable hands, and you slip into a deep state of relaxation as he gently scratches up and down your spine.

“What do you want me to do.. To you?” you say then, sounding innocent as can be and rubbing your thumbs over his stomach. “I want you to tell me if you’ve ever asked someone for something and they didn't give you what you needed, if you have a fantasy you haven’t fulfilled yet, something you think you might like but you feel worried or embarrassed about” he says, “Then I wanna do those things, wanna make you feel good.. The harder you come, the harder I’ll come, you understand?”. You crack up a little at the change in his tone, “Yeah, I understand”, and he smiles back. You notice that little throb again, your core suddenly tightening deep within you, close to where you’re sinking your weight onto him.

“What if- what if I told you that you could do anything to me?” you ask, provoking, “What would you do then?”. He starts rocking you over his bulge again, pulling you up a little closer so your clit rubs against his shaft at every roll of your hips, tilting his chin up in acknowledgement every time you clench at the sensation. The front of his boxers are covered in dark marks and sticky spots of arousal from the two of you, getting soaked as he drags you up and down and your wetness seeps out of you. “I’d wanna watch you bouncing on my cock, make you come till you beg me to stop” he says, fire blazing in his dark eyes at the thought of you giving yourself over to him.

“Wanna fuck you till you can’t stand up straight and I gotta carry you outta here and then put you to bed”, he rocks you faster, harder, “Watch you fall apart, and then put you back together”. You whimper, his hardness against your clit and the intensity of his eyes sending a shock through you. “How does that sound?” he asks, his tone lightened now. “Good, really good” you whisper, breathing fast and shallow, “Are you gonna fuck me soon?”. You sound almost concerned, brows knitting and your lips forming an unintentional pout. “Soon” he nods, “I want to, but I’m gonna take it slow with you, okay?”. You give him a careful okay, promising to be patient.

Curiosity gets the best of you as you trace your fingers down his length, rock hard under the fabric, “How big is it?”. His brows furrow upwards and his voice takes on a tone of disbelief, “You can't tell?”. You exhale a bit of a laugh, looking at how his underwear stretches over his thickness. “I wanna know specifics.. I wanna be prepared, okay?” you giggle. “Take it out,” he says then, somewhere between a suggestion and a challenge, “See for yourself”.

You look up at him for approval as you dip your fingers into his waistband, then lift it over his tip and pull it down his thighs. “Holy fuck” you mutter as you look directly at his cock and he shucks his boxers further down, playfully shushing you. You don’t mean to stare, but the naked sight of him is somehow even more arousing than you imagined, as you trace your eyes along the even coverage of dark, trimmed hair covering his pelvis, that you want to dig your nose into, and onto his wide shaft and even wider head, gently prodding at the thick veins running along the ridiculous length of him. “Can I?” you ask as you circle your hand around him, unable to touch your fingertips together.

Mhm, he nods, and a little groan escapes his chest as you bring your thumb up along one of his bulging veins, all the way to the tip, where you smear the bead of precome around his skin. He’s huge in your hand, so big you worry a little for your future self, somehow expected to fit the whole thing within you. Too big, way too big, the thought makes you clench around nothing. He spreads his thighs slightly, stretching out your hips to give his hand space to slip under your sex, then pushes two fingers into you and finds that little spot again, that he curls into as you arch for him and momentarily let go of his throbbing length before you realize his warmth is missing in your hands.

You start to stroke him then, spreading the wetness down his length, matching the slow rhythm of his fingers sliding in and out of you, listening to the sounds of your little moans and his heavy exhales filling the room. “You like that?” you ask, breathy and fighting the urge to moan from how he rubs at just the right spot. “Feels so good, angel,” he murmurs as you swivel your hand around his thickness and hear him whimper when you reach the tip to collect more of his spend, seeping out of the slit, “Just like that, baby, that’s- that’s perfect”.

Precome dribbles out as you jack his head gently a few times, leaning in to sweep your tongue into his mouth, and feel the vibrations of his groans, his breath hitching when your hand passes over the length of him and you moan, all the way back in your throat, from how he fucks you with his fingers. Still sensitive from your orgasm, you rapidly get closer to your second, letting your mouth hang open on his lips when you moan for him, squeezing around him more frequently and starting to rock your hips.

You start to stroke faster and faster, hearing him moan and murmur, “Not gonna last much longer, honey”, before you start to come again. You don’t blame him, sitting here rock hard for what feels like an eternity with your ass rubbing against him and his hands constantly on your naked body. Riding his fingers as if they were his dick, you throw your head back as your let your orgasm course through you, and squeeze your hand around him, furiously jacking his cockhead until you hear a broken, rumbling moan, looking down to watch the thick, white ropes of his come spurt out and cover your hand as well as his stomach.

His chest heaves as he lets his head fall back against the wall, waiting until he looks back at you to carefully slide his fingers out and give your clit one last swirl, resting his hand on your lower back and tracing your spine. “Sorry,” you whisper, a little shyly, as you look over at the time, “I know it’s a school night and you have work tom-”. He shushes you with his thumb, smiling and shaking his head, “You’re worth a night of too little sleep, wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else than right here”.

He drives you home, a seven minute drive that you wish would never end as you sit with your hand in his. You thank him for tonight as he gives you a kiss, then you jump out of his truck and run to your door. He doesn’t leave your driveway until you turn on the light in the living room and he sees you from the window, picking up a ball of fluff he assumes to be Lizzy and swaying a little side to side.

You feel fizzy and warm inside when you sit down at your dining table to have a snack before bed, feeling like all of your muscles have had their tension melted away. Your skin still smells like him, and you refuse to shower until tomorrow morning when you absolutely have to, wanting to inhale his scent all night.

He’s so good, so, so good. Unlike any other man you’ve ever met. So gorgeous and kind and thoughtful and sexy and good with his hands and-

Then it hits you, that nagging feeling and annoying voice in your head reminding you that you haven't shaved in two weeks, that you didn’t check for microscopic pieces of toilet paper stuck in any given crevice he may have touched, that you hadn’t showered since this morning and that he probably tasted your marinated coochie sweat when he licked you for that single second. The entire night starts rewinding in your head, every weird sound you might’ve made or stupid expression you might’ve contorted your face into when you came. What if that was the worst handjob he’d ever gotten in his life? Maybe he just pity came, you think, what a fucking tragedy, and here you were having the time of your life. Why did you give him a handjob in the first place? Probably should’ve sucked his dick and established some dominance. Maybe that’s why he didn’t ask you out or make any further plans when he drove you home instead of asking you to stay over.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

But then another explanation crystallizes in your head, one that makes you sick to your stomach as you chew on your ramen but cannot possibly ignore now that you’ve crossed a bunch of lines with Joel. Lana’s voice rings in your head.

“He’s in this miserable situationship with this stuck up lawyer"

"You have to dump Val”

Lawyer.

Val.

You vaguely remember her saying that all he wants is marriage and kids, so he has to be the miserable party in this relationship. What if he's just messing around with you while he waits for her to commit?

He mentioned his ex wife.. Where's she in all this? Is Val his ex-wife?

Your phone is laying face down on the table, just within reach, and your foot bounces on the floor as you try to hold back. You feel an uncontrollable itch to look her up, to feed that morbid curiosity you know will only serve to hurt you once the itch has been scratched. You tap your nails on the table, one by one, pinky to index finger, don’t do it, don’t do it, over and over until you think that maybe it would help to know, to check out her social media, just to make sure there are no photos of Joel, showing that you’re some sort of homewrecker, or, situation wrecker.

You pick up your phone and promise yourself that you’ll only look for signs of him this one time and then let it go, and trust that he’s broken things off with her sometime in the last week, or that he at least plans to.

Several minutes go by of trying to narrow down all the lawyers named Val in the greater Austin area, Googling incessantly and involuntarily learning the names of so many law firms you start recognizing them. You start to get sleepy, eyes drooping until you find the only possible person it could be, and click through until you’re on her Instagram. You roll your eyes at yourself and start scrolling, your hands so sweaty your phone could slip right out.

Her on a hike.. Her in Vegas.. Her in Monaco - you look a little closer, that's a lot of yachts, Jesus… A thirst trap, good for her… Her and her equally hot friends.. Great.. Fucking great. Rich and smart and beautiful and reminiscent of every girl you feel like a cheap, shitty copy of whenever you try to dress in anything other than jeans and a t-shirt. Her at hot yoga, of course.. Someone’s little dog..

Joel is nowhere to be seen on her page at least, not in her photos, her followers or her following, and you don’t find Lana there either, the social butterfly she is. A good sign, promising, if you think about it, but the mental image of him fucking her makes your head spin as you sit there, convinced he probably called her over right when he got home. You wonder when they last had sex, wonder what they did, if he touched her the way he touched you, if she came faster, if he was harder with her, if he said the same things to her that he said to you.

You clear your search history and put your phone face down on the table again, trying not to cry at the prospect of Joel stringing you along until you one day hear from Lana that he's engaged to this Val woman. That you weren't good enough this time either.

I have ditched my taglists and created a notifications blog instead. Follow Angelic Notifs and turn your notifications on if you want my new fics served directly to you!

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murdockjonescagerand · 9 months

Text

Seams drabble: Patch

{ Part IV: Notch | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: None

Summary: Ellie finds a Pride-themed sew on patch that leads to revelations.

Warnings: Pure fluff and love for this girl, some angst, coming out, total disregard of canon because I don't know how it goes in the game.

Word count: 1.3k

Notes: This idea struck me out of the blue many months ago, and I was waiting for 'the right place' in the series, until I mentioned it to a dear friend in passing conversation and then I just started writing it. Very lightly edited. Set at unspecified time frame after Part IV.

Ellie hums to herself from her spot in a cosy corner of the Outfitters, one watchful eye on the door. It’s an uncharacteristically slow Saturday, but she’s not complaining - she has her hands full.

A big canvas sack lies empty on the floor, its contents strewn haphazardly all over the wooden floor. The mess drives you up the wall, but you know better than to question her (very questionable) methods, so you’re ensconced in the safety of your studio while she sorts through the clothes and odds and ends that the patrollers brought back from their most recent outing.

Though infrequent - most settlements around Jackson have been painstakingly pilfered for anything useful over the years - it’s her favourite duty at the shop. Lucy is looser with the rules, but sometimes, you let Ellie keep little knick knacks that won’t sell.

The teenager goes through the pile thoroughly. Shirts go in one stack, jeans in another, followed by shoes, hats and scarves. Turning to the heap of smaller loose trinkets, she separates mismatched buttons, safety pins, shoelaces and zippers (as Maria always says, every little help), when something colourful piques her attention.

Plucking the piece of fabric out of the jumble, Ellie recognises it as a decorative patch that she’s seen sewn onto bags and shirts. It’s the size of her palm, cut in the shape of a rainbow, the colours still bright. Over the arches, bold white text outlined in black spells out NYC PRIDE 2003.

Tucking it into her pocket for now, she quickly finishes the rest of the sorting. Clothes go into the bin to be collected by the laundry, shoes for the cobbler’s, and accessories into a box to be priced and shelved.

Ambling into the back of the shop where you’re busy hemming a pair of jeans, Ellie plops into one of the rolling chairs, straddling the back of it, and the wheels screech as she careens across the floor to your sewing station.

Your lips quirk as you look up briefly at her. ‘Find anything interesting?’

‘Just this,’ she replies, flashing you the patch and reading aloud, ‘NYC Pride 2003. What does that mean?’

‘There used to be a big pride parade for the LGBT community every year in New York City,’ you explain. ‘They used to close down the streets and everything for it, it was a huge event.’

Ellie blinks, your answer taking her by surprise. She clears her throat, a distant buzzing at the back of her head as she turns the patch over pensively in her hand. ‘What - do you know what it was like?’

‘I’ve never been to one, but it always looked incredible. People used to line the streets in support, and everyone dressed up. There’d be rainbow flags everywhere, floats, dancing, music, and of course, it was an important way for the community to highlight and push for LGBT rights.’

‘You mean -’ she pauses, the unfamiliar feeling of stumbling over her words making her hands sweat. ‘You mean, people would just be out in public, like, being themselves?’

‘More than that - they were celebrating themselves.’

Ellie doesn’t realise she’s fallen quiet until you speak, ‘You can keep it if you want.’

Her head snaps up, disoriented. ‘Keep what?’

‘That.’ You nod towards the patch she’s clinging onto so tightly that her knuckles have gone white.

Panic prickles the back of her neck, an embarrassed heat suddenly making her want to pull at the collar of her flannel. But then you shrug and say, almost flippantly, ‘It’s pretty.’

‘Yes,’ she blurts out in hasty agreement, letting out a breath she’s been unconsciously holding. ‘It’s very pretty.’

Ellie is relieved when you turn back to the sewing machine, leaving her to retrace her steps to the front of the shop. The patch sits on the counter, where she leaves it, as she goes about her business for the rest of her shift.

Her eyes travel to the rainbow, and she thinks of how she wasn’t like the other girls at school, who fawned over dogeared photos of singers and actors long dead. She thinks of how she’s always known she’s different, but didn’t have the vocabulary to express it.

She thinks of Riley.

Riley.

For Riley.

When half three rolls around, you spot the teenager lingering by the studio doorway out of the corner of your eye, her backpack dangling from her fingers. Any other Saturday, you’d be lucky to catch the blurry shape of her shadow when she gallops out of the shop, throwing a see ya over her shoulder.

Thrown by her silence, you prompt, ‘Yes, Ellie?’

Scruffing the tips of her well-worn sneakers on the floorboards, she bites her lip in an atypical display of hesitance. ‘Pin, could you help me sew the patch onto my backpack? Please?’

You smile, eyes soft. ‘I’d love to. C’mon.’

‘You don’t have to do it now,’ she protests, feigning nonchalance, but her twitchy hands give her away. ‘Like, whatever, it’s no big deal.’

Wanting to put her at ease, you shrug. ‘No time like the present. Where do you want it?’

Putting her bag on your work surface, she points. ‘Guess right here under the wings.’

‘Perfect. Can you unzip the bag for me?’

You have Ellie hold the rainbow exactly where she wants it while you thread the needle, and you start sewing it in by hand, stitch by tidy stitch. It barely takes a couple of minutes, but time is of the essence - you haven’t heard the girl take a single breath of air since the anchor stitch.

Snipping off the thread with a flourish and giving it a once over, you grin. ‘There, all done.’

Ellie ducks her head, quiet as she takes the bag from your hands, running a thumb over the arches of the rainbow. Without a word, she suddenly throws her arms around you, hugging you tight.

‘Thanks, Pin,’ she mumbles into your hair.

Your heart swells, and you squeeze her back even tighter. ‘Anything for you, kiddo.’

On Monday morning, Ellie hovers in the hallway outside the kitchen, observing.

Joel is at the table, oblivious with his back to the door, her breakfast of two fried eggs over and easy and toast waiting at her usual spot at the table. Taking a deep breath, she bites the bullet and walks in, backpack in her hand.

‘Mornin’,’ grunts Joel, almost done with his own eggs, sunny side up.

‘Morning,’ she parrots back as she makes herself comfortable.

She usually just dumps her bag on the floor, but today, she pulls out the chair next to her and drops it into the seat. The unusual movement catches Joel’s eye, and he takes a good long look at the backpack.

Eventually, he points vaguely in what she assumes is the direction of the rainbow patch, and says, ‘That looks new.’

‘Yup, Pin helped me sew it on.’

He purses his lips, asking around a mouthful of egg. ‘You know what Pride is?’

She swallows thickly, and it takes a beat to unstick her tongue from the roof of her mouth. ‘Yeah, Pin told me.’

He nods, then turns his attention back to his plate with no fanfare.

Not entirely sure if he caught the nuance but her mind too in knots to care, Ellie picks up her fork and doesn’t think twice when he gets up to put his dish in the sink.

She nearly chokes on eggs when strong arms close around her shoulders in a vice-like grip, scratchy beard on her temple, Joel’s voice so thick that it makes her think if she turns around, she’ll see tears in his eyes.

‘Proud of you, baby girl.’

Later that afternoon, Joel finds you alone in the shop, restocking the women’s outerwear rack.

You toss him a smile over your shoulder. ‘Hey, what are you doing here?’

‘Lucy ‘round?’ he asks.

‘When is she ever?’ you quip with no bite.

Three steps and he’s spun you around by the waist, soft lips latching onto yours in a sweet kiss with just a hint of heated aftertaste that has you swaying on your feet when he pulls back.

A breathless laugh bubbles in your throat as you palm his whiskered jawline. ‘Why, thank you for that, Mr. Miller.’

The corners of his eyes crinkle, and he brushes his nose tenderly against your cheek. ‘No, thank you, sweetheart.’

Notes: I hope I wrote Ellie's coming out as sensitively as I hoped to. As I mentioned, I have no idea how or if she comes out in the game, but despite being such a chatty teenager, I think she'd find it difficult to broach the subject with Joel in conversation. For me, this was a fun way of weaving in her part-time job at the Outfitters and Pin into her coming out story that stays true to Ellie's character. I hope you enjoyed this - comments and reblogs appreciated as always!

P.S. I am not 'back' back, so I don't know when I will next update Seams. Thank you for your patience while I try to navigate my way back to some semblence of writing regularly, whenever that may be.

Thank you @firefly-graphics for the dividers ❤️

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murdockjonescagerand · 9 months

Text

No One But Me

masterlist

previous chapter

When Joel saw you sitting with Oscar in the cafeteria at lunch time he couldn't automatically decipher just what was happening before his eyes. In the time Joel had known you, you never socialised so openly with men, and certainly not with any men like Oscar. To witness you sitting and eating lunch with an older patrolman - one of his colleagues, no less - had bewildered Joel. It took a few seconds for the shock to dissipate.

Then the heat of anger ignited in his stomach and instantly engulfed his whole being. It travelled up his spine and licked at his neck, causing his skin to prickle in agitation. It surged through his arms and into his fists. It took a great deal of restraint for Joel not to stride over to the table and punch Oscar in the face, then drag you out of the place by your hair.

He knew you wanted more from him. Things he just wasn't capable of giving you. Joel figured your little tantrum would pass - you'd realised how dramatic and ridiculous you were being and nestle right back underneath him, where you belonged. But this was completely unexpected. Joel had never really believed you would have the confidence or desire to actually leave him, or find someone else.

Joel was good at hiding his feelings. He had been practicing it for many years now. His patrol partner had no inkling of the storm raging inside Joel when he said he'd wait outside. No one could've guessed. Except perhaps you.

You'd known Joel well enough by now to know when he was displeased. You also knew that your actions would have consequences. But your audacity was what shocked and angered him right now. What the fuck did you think you were doing? How dare you sit with a man in public like that, let alone someone older than you? And another fucking patrolman, at that.

When he walked outside and eventually regulated his breathing, when he successfully constrained the rage threatening to spill from his mouth and hands, and he could think clearly once again, he knew what he needed to do. You just needed a little punishment, some kind of reminder of who you belonged to. Who owned you.

******

After lunch you and Oscar returned to the library and resumed working on your individual tasks, although the fullness in your belly had dulled your productivity and gusto. Oscar continued to paint the wall beside the front door, humming quietly to himself whenever conversation between you lulled. There were gaps of comfortable silence as you both worked, neither of you finding it necessary to fill the quiet, instead just basking in the peaceful afternoon of the library.

You tried not to let your mind wander back to Joel and the way he looked at you and Oscar. You could never be completely sure of exactly what he was thinking or feeling, although it was safe to say he was not pleased. Not pleased at all.

But that shouldn't matter, you told yourself, we aren't together. I shouldn't care what he thinks.

Anyway, Joel was on the late patrol today so he would just have to deal with it. For now.

It was just after 3.30pm when you finished the last of the cataloguing and shelving. You leaned against a book shelf and tried to stifle a yawn unsuccessfully. You heard Oscar chuckle.

You looked over to see him watching you from his position by the wall, his hands on his hips. He had taken off his sweater and was now wearing a crumpled grey tshirt with daubs of paint here and there. You could see the curve of his biceps peeking out from under the sleeves of his shirt, displaying his smooth olive skin.

"Bit sleepy over there?" He grinned.

You smiled bashfully and just nodded, then stretched your arms out to your sides and sighed wearily. Oscar turned back to the wall and looked it up and down.

"Well, I think that's enough for today. Gotta let these walls dry."

He packed up the tin of paint and went to the small sink in the storeroom to wash the paintbrush. You walked over to the freshly painted walls by the counter and appraised Oscar's work. He had done very well considering he had no paint roller and only a simple large wooden handled paint brush. Such a task required quite a bit of patience and dedication, you mused.

"What do ya think?" Oscar asked when he reappeared from the storeroom, wiping his hands clean with a rag.

"It looks great," you said with sincerity. "It already makes the library look so much brighter."

Oscar tossed the rag onto the counter and came to stand beside you. He was so close you could smell the natural scent of his skin intermingled with his sweat and a faint hint of something you thought was like cinnamon.

"Mm," he murmured softly, his eyes wandering over the expanse of the wall. "It does. You don't think the colour is too much, do you?"

You studied his face for a brief moment, taking in his features; the prominent shape of his nose, the distinct thickness of his eyebrows, the pensive downturn of his lips. He was so unassumingly beautiful. The sober expression of his face coupled with the tone of genuine concern in his voice was quite endearing.

"I think Light Summer Blue is perfect," you replied with a playful little smile.

Oscar glanced at you and huffed a breathless chuckle of mirth. You and Oscar surveyed his handiwork for a few more moments before he gave a soft sigh.

"Ready to call it a day?" He asked gently.

"Yep," you replied quietly.

Oscar gestured to the front door with his hand and you both ambled toward it. There was a palpable shift of energy in the air now, a reserved shyness between you two, as if you both wanted to linger yet neither knew what to say. Neither of you spoke as you and Oscar stepped outside, or as he shut the door closed behind him and locked it with the key. He pocketed the key, turned to face you, and then cleared his throat.

"Thank you." Oscar said quietly. His eyes wandered from the ground up to your face. "For today. For being such good company, I mean. I haven't...I hope you had a good day."

"I did," you replied truthfully. "Thank you, Oscar. I'm glad we could work together."

Oscar gave you a small smile and you were sure you could detect a slight glimmer of hope in his expression. It was a kind of yearning you were sure mirrored the one you kept locked in your own heart - a desire for friendship, for understanding and companionship, for affection.

When you said farewell for the day and parted ways, turning to walk in the opposite directions of your homes, you wondered what was going through Oscar's mind at that moment.

******

Joel's POV

From the beginning of the end of the world, after Sarah had died, Joel was a broken man. The agony of losing his only child, the only shining light of happiness in his life, had planted a seed of hate inside his soul that rooted itself and festered. The sorrow never eased, not even with time to dull the sharpness of memories. Instead, the deeply entrenched hatred spurred him to tear things and people apart, to destroy them. He wanted everyone left in this fucked up world to hurt just as he did - irrevocably. Simply, Joel lost his sense of humanity.

He survived through the years by using brutality and violence, carving out a widespread infamy as a raider that incited fear in the neighbouring settlements and QZs. Joel repressed any emotion he felt would make him weak or unfocused. He abused pills and alcohol to quell the nightmares of Sarah and help numb himself from the hellish reality of surviving the end of the world.

Ellie had been the only person to penetrate Joel's exterior and piece back together some of the shattered remains of his heart. She had been the only person Joel showed any kind of vulnerability to and the depth of his love for her was immeasurable. It was partly this relationship that had convinced the townsfolk of Jackson that they could accept and trust Joel. The fact that he was a caring and attentive father to Ellie, in addition to Tommy Miller's older brother, made his entry into Jackson relatively smooth.

Joel was not a good man. He knew that. He never pretended to be anything otherwise, but he did keep his true nature just barely hidden under a facade; one that allowed him to assimilate without being asked too many questions. In a very short time he had proved himself as a valuable asset with his intellect and exemplary hunting and survival skills. He quickly became one of the lead patrolmen, alongside Tommy and two other men.

The boys and men in the town aspired to be like Joel and he effortlessly commanded respect from them. Tommy had begged him to accept the role as a sort of teacher to the younger men and boys, which Joel agreed to after much grumbling and complaining. He taught them self defence tactics, helped them perfect their shooting skills, and trained them how to properly skin a deer.

The women admired Joel's good looks and the doting father role he played to Ellie. When he first came to Jackson some of the women asked Tommy and Maria to play matchmaker and set them up on dates with Joel, but he wasn't interested. Some of them still flirted with him unashamedly, despite his lack of interest or reciprocation. He was never rude to any of them though, always the polite Southern gentleman who just didn't talk much or socialise with anyone (except occasionally his patrol buddies). Tommy would just shrug his shoulders in bewilderment.

Joel could admit to himself that there were several attractive women in the town, some pretty faces who would giggle and wave to him across the bar, some shapely bodies that sashayed around the town centre begging for the attention of a rugged macho patrolman. However, none of them sparked anything more than a sexual desire in him, a need that he could easily fulfill by jerking himself off in the privacy of his own home.

At the QZ Joel had semi frequent encounters with sex workers. Most of them were desperate women addicted to the pills he smuggled, something he used to his advantage. He enjoyed seeing them fall on their knees begging for a fix in exchange for a blowjob or a fuck. The power and control he yielded over them was thrilling to Joel. He did not mistreat the women but he felt nothing for them, only viewing them as warm holes he could fuck his frustrations into.

He still retained this mentality towards women to some degree when he arrived in Jackson. He had given up on the idea of having a woman in his life, even just as a sexual partner.

Until he met you.

The first time he saw you, he and Ellie had only arrived in Jackson two days prior. He was standing with Tommy, Maria and Ellie in the main street near the cafeteria, only half listening to them discuss the layout of the town and the movie screening that night in the town hall.

You were walking down the street with one of your girlfriends, chatting and laughing with a carefree kind of joy that Joel had thought no longer existed in this world. You wore a yellow sundress and a matching ribbon in your hair, a baby blue cardigan pulled modestly around your chest. Your smile was so beautiful, so pure. When he saw your face he felt his breath catch in his throat and the coil of primal hunger twist in his stomach. It hit him like a thunderbolt. Joel was so caught off guard by his own reaction that he froze in place and continued to stare at you as you passed by.

You had glimpsed at him as you and your girlfriend pranced past, and locked eyes on his briefly. He knew you felt something too when your cheeks blushed pink immediately and you lowered your gaze bashfully, that smile never leaving your face. Joel felt his dick hardened in his jeans as he watched the swell of your ass and the curve of your hips while you walked away.

Joel was thankful that Ellie and Maria were too preoccupied with their conversation and had not noticed the interaction between you two. But when he finally tore his eyes away from you Tommy was already watching him, his expression unreadable.

In the following months he spied you around town when he was out with Ellie or Tommy. You were either alone or with your girlfriends, never with any boys (an observation that satisfied him greatly). He noted how well liked you were by others, particularly the children and elderly ladies. He collected bits and pieces of information about you from Ellie and conversations he overheard on patrol and at the Tipsy Bison or the mess hall. You were not outspoken or loud like some of your friends, you helped out at the school as a teacher's assistant, you had no family with you in Jackson.

He never allowed himself to really analyse just why he was so attracted to you. You were pretty, that's for sure. But there was a vulnerable sweetness about you that he found tantalising, a softness that made him want to consume you while and break you down until you were nothing. Nothing without him to rebuild you, to take you in his hands, so pliant and docile, and mould you however he wished.

But Joel had no reason to approach you or talk to you. You were so much younger than he, after all. So for the next four years he repressed his hunger for you, the quiet but obsessive infatuation he felt. Until one day Ellie came bounding over to him, a grin plastered on her face. She was so excited to tell him about a comic she scored from the teacher at the school. When she said your name his heart skipped a beat, but he kept his face as impassive as ever. Ellie wanted to introduce you to Joel, and although he protested, she managed to drag him to the school to formally meet you.

Ellie was enthralled by your knowledge of books and comics, and your passion for baking and the random bits of animals facts you'd accumulated over the years. She quickly developed an affection for you, Joel suspecting she viewed you as a sort of surrogate older sister.

You were so shy you could hardly make eye contact with him when you talked. His cock twitched in his pants when you said his name for the first time. Joel was never a big talker and inwardly he was so nervous to finally be in your presence, but he attempted conversation with you for Ellie's sake.

After that initial meeting you began to visit their home occasionally, always with one of your home made cakes or biscuits or banana bread. You were so generous and sweet and fucking domesticated, already a little housewife in the making. It was so fucking difficult for Joel to remain calm and casual during these visits. If not for Ellie's presence, Joel probably would have held you down on the floor and fucked the shit out of you the very first time you showed up on his doorstep. But instead he repressed his true desires under a pretence of polite detachment whenever he saw you, offering a gruff greeting and a few words of conversation while covertly undressing you with his eyes.

After only a handful of these encounters Joel could discern that you had developed feelings for him. He noticed the lingering glances you would give when you thought he wasn't looking, how you'd blush whenever your eyes met his for more than a second, the way you'd stare at his hands as if mesmerised. Joel managed to control his urges for three months after that first meeting.

Then one evening you stopped by when Ellie was out, a basket of muffins on your hip, your dress clinging to your body from the sticky summer humidity, a hopeful and hungry look in your eyes. Joel had seduced you in his kitchen that night, and ever since you had both been addicted to each other.

It all started out as passionate but soft. You were both insatiable but Joel needed to be somewhat gentle, atleast in the beginning. He had to be charming enough that you'd fall for him and become too invested in whatever it was you shared together to leave. The mere thought of him losing you made his pulse quicken and his head buzz with panic. But he couldn't let you know. Admitting feelings for you would be acknowledging he was capable of emotions, and therefore of weakness. It would also be tempting fate - surely something would go wrong, like you dying somehow.

Little by little, Joel sunk his teeth deeper into your flesh and tightened his hold on your heart. He would make excuses as to why he wasn't ready to make your relationship public, relishing the crestfallen expression on your face before fucking you senseless. Joel would placate you with a mind blowing orgasm and then you wouldn't mind so much that your heart was slowly being chipped away. It worked. Until recently.

Joel knew your body so well. How you would feel so eager and needy and overcome with yearning to be full of him. Joel himself was so intoxicated by your own body and the control you allowed him that he was often overzealous in his actions. He would be so consumed by lust and the need to dominate you that the movement of his hips quickly became punishing, and the grip of his large hands became rougher and more careless. He pushed through your boundaries with no remorse or care for your comfort. He forced you to forfeit your autonomy again and again. But it didn't matter. He always made you come, always assuaged the hurt with intense pleasure. The exchange of pleasure and pain was what you craved; you would have let him do just about anything to you.

The thought of you allowing anyone else that privilege made him feel demented with jealousy and rage. He shook his head, clearing away the thought. You just needed a reminder, that's all.

******

After having dinner at Kate's house and spending some time with her and her brother, you went home to do some reading and get a good night's sleep. You had a shower and got dressed into a sweater and a skimpy pair of sleep shorts. You walked into your room and were about to slip under your blanket when you heard a creaking sound behind you.

When you turned around you were shocked to find Joel standing at your bedroom door.

"Joel," you squeaked in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

The glow from your bedside lamp highlighted his hawkish scowl amongst the shadows of the room. He advanced toward you with slow deliberate strides, his eyes piercing into you with a dark intensity that caused your stomach to flutter with dread. You shuffled backwards blindly, unable to tear your eyes away from him. His hands were clenched by his sides and his broad chest expanded with each deep breath he took.

"Why aren't you on patrol?" You asked in a small, shaky voice.

Joel scoffed and shook his head. "You expectin' someone else?"

"No," you mumbled breathlessly.

You retreated back until your legs hit your bedframe and you plopped down on the mattress. You suddenly felt very small and naked in your skimpy pyjama bottoms and your legs bare. You shrunk away from his intimidating figure and scrambled against the wall that your bed rested against.

"What the fuck were you doin' with Estrada?" Joel growled. You knew who he meant.

You pursed your lips in fearful silence as your wide eyes stared up at him. When you didn't respond, Joel's large hand shot out and grabbed onto one of your ankles and roughly dragged you across the bed towards him. You gasped.

"Answer me when I ask you a goddamn question!" Joel barked loudly.

He leaned down and grasped a handful of your hair close to your scalp and used his grip to pull you up on your knees. You winced at the searing pain, your own hand reaching up to futilely try wrench his grip away, tears pricking your eyes. He glared at you now kneeling on the bed before him, not a trance of mercy on his face.

"He...we-we work together," you whined, "we just got lunch on our b-break."

Joel's eyebrows knitted together in a confused frown. "Workin' together?" He spat. "At the school?"

You didn't want to tell Joel about your new work assignment. You didn't want him to know any details about what you were up to or any changes in your life. But his imposing stance above you and the menacing glint in his eyes were terrifying enough to compel you to surrender to him.

"Nuh. At the library."

Joel was silent for a few seconds as the information sunk in. Then his lips curled into a snarl.

"Alone?" He gave your head a rough shake. "You alone with him in that fuckin' library?"

A small, strangled sob escaped your throat and you stared at him, the tears now falling from your eyes. "Joel, please, you're hurting m-me," you whimpered pathetically.

"Why the fuck you workin' there with him?" Joel growled, ignoring your plea. His other hand landed a sharp slap across your face, making you cry out. "He your new daddy? You let him fuck you?"

"No," you croaked, tears streaming down your cheeks freely as you stared up at Joel. "J-just friends. That's it. I swear."

Joel's dark gaze flickered back and forth to each of your eyes, as if searching for the truth in your words. His jaw ticked. You hiccuped, your chest heaving shallowly, your eyes willing him to believe you. He relinquished his hold on your hair with an uncaring shove, knocking you onto your ass. You wiped the tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand, sniffing.

Joel crouched down and picked something up from the ground beside the bed. When he stood up straight you saw a length of thin rope in his hand. Your stomach began to swirl with panic.

"Joel, what are you--"

"Hold out your hands." Joel commanded you, his tone calm and firm. You quickly shook your head, simultaneously frightened of refusing him yet so desperate to avoid whatever it was he had planned.

Then Joel suddenly backhanded you. The force of the smack made your ear ring and the side of your face go numb instantly. While you were stunned by the impact Joel kneeled on the bed beside you and then grabbed your wrists. He hurriedly began to bind them with the rope.

"Sayin' no to me?" He growled as his hands worked expertly. "Stupid little bitch, who the fuck you think you are?"

All you could do was sob in response, a fresh wave of tears falling from your eyes. Joel could be rough at times, but never this cruel. The anxiety of not knowing what he was going to do next made your skin break out in goosebumps and your legs tremble.

When Joel had finished winding the rope tightly around your wrists he shifted up the bed to secure the remaining length to the frame of the bed head. You could hear his heavy breathing.

"J-j-joel?" You stammered weakly.

Joel remained silent as he finished restraining you to the bedframe. You were now trapped. He stood up off the bed and then grabbed your sleep shorts with both hands. He ripped them down and off your legs in one swift motion, then threw them onto the floor. Your bottom half was now exposed to Joel. You felt shame burn your cheeks as his eyes wandered up your legs and settled on your naked cunt. You clamped your thighs shut. His eyes flickered up to your face.

"With the shit you pulled today, seems to me you need a little reminder of who you belong to." Joel murmured. He took hold of your thigh and effortlessly flipped you over onto your stomach.

"Joel!" You cried. "Stop!"

You knew it was hopeless. You dared to look back to Joel. His dark eyes were fixed on your face as his large hands unbuckled and unlooped his belt from his jeans. His jaw ticked. He folded his thick leather belt in half and held the ends together in one hand. Your eyes went wide in understanding.

"Please, no!" Your legs writhed in a futile effort to escape. The rope pulled taut on your wrists.

Joel pulled his arm back and threw it forward to land a blow onto your bare buttocks with the strap. The blinding sting made your skin sizzle. You screamed in pain.

"Shut up and hold still now," Joel commanded gruffly.

He thrashed you again, the leather cracking loud on your flesh and filling the room along with your unrestrained cries. Joel repeated the action again. And again. And again. Stars flashed in your eyes as the pain electrified your whole body. Hot tears leaked from the corners of your eyes. Your legs shook and your hips rocked. You were sure the belt had broken through your skin and was making you bleed.

You were too consumed by the agony to realise Joel had stopped beating you and discarded his belt on the floor. His chest expanded with his heaving breathes, his nostrils flared. You buried your face into the mattress and your body wracked with sobs. Your flesh throbbed unbearably.

A few moments later the bed creaked under Joel's weight and you vaguely registered that he had settled behind you on his knees. His calloused hands dug into your hips as he lifted your bottom half up so you were positioned on your knees. Then you felt the warm, wet head of his cock pressing against your pussy.

All you could muster was a whine when he started to push his cock into your entrance, his grip on your hips pulling you back at the same time. The pleasurable stretch made you moan.

"That's it, babydoll," Joel drawled, his voice dripping with lust. "Take it."

His fingertips squeezed into your flesh as he buried his entire cock into you. He only allowed you a moment to adjust before he pulled out then rocked back into you. You moaned again at the sensation of his fat cock parting your insides.

Despite wanting so much more than this game of submission and dominance, you couldn't deny the animalistic arousal beginning to stir in your belly. Your body had become conditioned to crave his fingers and his cock and his mouth. You were becoming wet now.

God you're so fucked up.

Joel's pace increased and he was soon pummeling into your pussy. The thickness of his thighs had your legs spread wide. One of his hands grasped a handful of your hair and yanked your head back, making your back bow, letting him hit that sweet soft deep inside you. Your moans became guttural.

"My whore," Joel panted. His other hand reached down infront and rubbed your clit in circles.

"Oh my god," you whimpered.

He maintained the brutal pace, snapping his hips into yours from behind, still massaging your clit. Your walls constricted around his cock. Your orgasm was building. Fuck, you hated yourself.

"Come for me, bitch," Joel groaned.

It took less than a minute for your climax to hit. You moaned loudly as the warm pleasure exploded inside you, blackness momentarily clouding your vision. Joel fucked you through your orgasm, your muscles clenching and milking his cock. When you were gasping and recovering from your high he pulled out and shot thick ropes of cum over your ass, growling and panting with exertion.

You flopped down on your stomach, weak with exhaustion. You shut your eyes, silent while the adrenaline rush began to slowly fade from your body. Joel said nothing as he tucked himself back into his jeans and retrieved his belt. He sliced through the rope tied to the bed efficiently with his jagged pocket knife. Your hands fell onto the mattress.

"Do anything like that again, little girl, and I'll fuckin' ruin you." Joel said. The next thing you heard was your bedroom door slamming shut behind him.

153 notes · View notes

murdockjonescagerand · 9 months

Text

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Just a few drinks: A Joel miller x reader (18+)

Summary: A complicated Joel gets tipsy at the same bar you're at. And when you try to leave, he's not keen to let you leave alone.

Tags to note: brief enemies to lovers, dom!Joel, petnames (tame), age gap (a given), uncharacteristic drunk

A/N: my first work for Joel, hello TLOU readers :)! leave me a message if you have any ideas for anything else I could write about <3 enjoy

word count: 3.3k

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Another clash of wood and hardened glass echoes throughout the small bar as you look over to see another shot downed by him.

There was some sort of drinking game, transpiring between him and his brother, though you’re one to care less. The sound of the noise, the groans that escaped him, and the slurred words that you heard coming from his companion were enough to anger you enough to want to shut them out at all costs. But, that was difficult since there wasn't really heavy pickings of what could constitute a bar in the state of things. They make do, they supply liquor, and it's too good an offer for you to let up.

You and Joel, have a bit of history, to say the least. Having worked side by side begrudgingly at certain points, all you’ve discerned from him is that he's good for nothing, at least when it doesn't involve his own self-interest. And sure, that's been a while ago since now but I doubt he's got any change in him. He's not the kind of man to change, and the entire time you’ve known him he's been an asshole to you, and right back to him have you been an asshole right back.

Another loud clunk interrupts your thoughts once more, and as it does you say the first thing that comes to mind. Raising yourself from your seat exclaim;

“Do you mind shutting the fuck up? Some people don't want to hear you getting drunk the whole night.”

It escapes your mouth without another thought. Quiet murmurs are shared around the room as all eyes are on you, including the dark brown ones that now meet your gaze.

Joel is a rough-looking man, about 30 years your senior, with salt and pepper hair slightly overgrown upon a tan face, littered with scars and an omnipresent pout upon his face coated with a layer of hair for his beard. His body is quite muscular, in a way that tells many stories with every muscle group providing a specific purpose to his very private, lone adventures or so you’ve come to learn. Covered only with a weathered plaid shirt rolled to his elbows, and equally worn jeans with shoes that have seen miles before your conception it was safe to say that he was decently experienced. You could tell just by looking at him.

But as he looked at you, you felt increasingly vulnerable at the sight of him eyeing you. Studying you. The seconds seem to pass like hours as he musters something to say in reply,

“How’s bout you make me then, sweetheart?”

Words that slur slightly from the mouth of a man clearly tipsy renders you speechless. A smirk upon his face that was uncharacteristic for his usual brood, you were flushed at the sight of it. This bold flirting wasn't something you were used to, and discerned it was a way to catch you off guard, and nothing more. You decide not to give him any more attention that he seems to want, and with a sucking of your teeth, you sit back down in your chair to have your back partially face him once more.

The night drags on as they seem to listen, but only partially. The clinks were still able to be heard, and if you tried hard enough you could tell which one was drunker. Not ideal, but it seems your words did at least a little bit of damage. Though ever since that moment, you felt as though eyes were on you most of the night's end. But as you gaze up at the moonlight shining from the window of the bar, it's decided that it's more than time enough to head back to your apartment. You didn't have anywhere to be the next morning, but you also didn't have the idea of listening to their nonsense for the next unknowable hours haunt your mind as you tried to think otherwise.

Lifting yourself up from your seat once more you casually walk out of the bar expecting nothing more than a simple walk home, but clearly, why would that ever happen to you? You make it a meer 12 paces out from the bar before you hear a raspy voice yell to you;

“Where’rya goin hm? We already miss our audience.”

“Home, Joel. And you should too. You’re making an embarrassment of yourself.”

“Aww but where's the fun in that hm?”

You hear shuffled legs grow louder along the dirt as they make their way closer to you.

“Just shut up and leave me alone. I don't care where you go.”

Your responses were short and crass. Just like he was to you every time but what seems to be this exact night.

“I already told ya, sweetheart, you’re gonna have to make me shut up. Haven’t so far yet have’ya?”

He purrs in a voice you can tell is laced with a smirk just by how he said it.

“You’re sick, Joel. What the hell do you want from me?”

You pivot your feet by the end of that question and turn around to watch him close the few feets gap between you two.

“Kiss me”

“What.”

“I said kiss me. Sure that'll make me shut up”

You stood shocked for a moment. This wasn't the Joel you knew, this wasn't the man who would bump into you during patrols because he didn't think you were awake enough. This wasn't the Joel that would work for whoever gave him the cash, and this especially wasn't the Joel who barely ever spoke. Especially to you. This was a man you did not recognize standing in front of you, intoxication peppering his cheeks red and he looked upon you, and an unrecognizable gaze in his eyes fixated on you. When you looked at him during this moment, he was almost handsome. Alluring. You'd never looked at him this way before, never given him the time of day but as you stood there. Basking in the moonlight and allowing its glow to reflect off of his skin there was something enticing about it. A yearning to feel the muscles coating his arms, a craving to feel his calloused hands around your body and above all-- an unshakeable desire to do exactly what he just asked of you. But you couldn't, not so easily, not so simply you can't just disregard everything that's happened between you two you don't like him god damn it! Why is he acting like this, why;

“Why the fuck would you want me to do that hm? Is this some bet for you and your buddy inside? Well, consider me not interested. Go kiss some other bitch.”

You were proud of your rebuttal, repressing your urges wasn't hard for you, but for something like this, it seemed especially difficult. Though, without skipping a beat a Joel who seems to have only heard the first half of the question states through persisting smirk;

“Well why wouldnt’I want to, darling? Just look at you. You're close to one of the finest things I've seen here in a real long time. Ain't nothin’ wrong with askin now is there?”

The way his eyes dug into yours, the way he seemed to pierce yours with the unshakeable gaze only a drunkard full of liquid courage could attain. You were at a crossroads. You felt in your heart you weren't to be made a fool of if you did do this, from the pure hunger in his eyes you’re sure a kiss would be more than covered by that, but another part of you didn't want to give him this satisfaction. The flattery of his attraction to you was one thing, but to allow him to indulge in it on some one-off drunken night isn't really the reputation you want to have. You

Before you can process your next move, you watch him start walking away from you, and into the bar.

“Well, I’ll be seein you then.”

Lowly uttered with that raspy voice of his was about it for you. You couldn't be logical anymore, you wanted him and that was final. Before he can move another step you pull him towards you in a kiss. Tasting what you'd craved for what seems like your whole life between your lips you feel his smirk grow into a larger smile as he embraces you for more than a single kiss.

Soon a kiss turns into two, then six, then every other number that falls between the start and the first gasp of air between you two. And as you gasped for air you heard that same rugged voice whispered within your ear;

“Sure did shut the both of us right up, didn't you? Good girl.”

At this point, you were nothing but a flurry of emotions, all for him, all about him, all craving him. And as his hands trailed from your waist to your jaw, holding your soft skin within his calloused fingers as he yearned for more of your kiss like he'd been needing it his whole life. He was rough, sloppy, and needy with how he held you. Strands of your hair caught in his fingers as he gripped your face, all you could do in return was lay your arms over his shoulders and grip at his hair all the same. You were desperate for him, passionate to say the least.

You wanted more, and you could tell he did too. And as this fact was exchanged between dilated, impassioned eyes he offers, no, tells you;

“My places about a block up the street. Follow me.”

Butterflies invade your stomach at the prospect of what he just said. His demand, even to bring you home implies things that can't be done just steps away from an open bar. And as every heavy step of his boot trails ahead of you, it feels as though thousands of miles are between you, and the door to his apartment. You felt like you couldn't walk straight, as though the taste of whiskey on his lips had seeped deep into yours, that you could barely think straight anymore.

Though before you knew it there laid the door marked with his name, a sign it was his. Keys jingle as he fumbles with them all, finding the proper one after a moment's search and you hear the sound of an unlocked door parallel the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard, as your desperation grows incessantly.

Before you can process it, Joel has you pinned against the wall adjacent to his front door, moving it closed with his foot as he begins his assault on your lips again. His hands trace all over your body now, from your hair, holding clumps of it in his hand as he kisses you roughly, or his hands finding their way on your waist, but beneath the layer of fabric that covered your stomach from sight. His calloused hands gripping onto your bare waist, feeling every groove between your body did you simultaneously learn the indents on every finger's unique callous.

Sticking his tongue inside your mouth elicits a moan from you, and with that does he lift you from your legs as though you were nothing but a small toy. Without letting up for a moment, his hands wrap around your thighs, hoist you up and carry you to the top of his bed, where he swiftly drops you as a means to crawl on top of you.

At this point, he groans at every slight movement you do, a bite to his lip, a tug to his hair, and most especially a quick deviation from his lips to trace his neck with kisses and bites was enough to buck his head back in frenzy. But as he straddles on top of you, arms and legs caging you in as his hands hold your wrists onto the mattress and his legs, much stronger than yours keep you inside his space he makes it clear that he wants much more.

“God I can't fucking stand you darlin, you know that?”

Words groaned almost into your mouth as you let up from another myriad of kisses, he steadies himself on top of you on his knees now, glancing down at you through uneven breaths.

“You’re even better than id’ve hoped for eh? You don't fucking know how long it's been, you don't wanna know honey.”

As he speaks his belt is undone by his hands, hearing the clank of metal drop on the floor next to his bed.

“What do ya want from me now hm? I wanna hear it from’ya”

He looks down on you with a much more purposeful, sadistic smirk as he awaits your words. Your beg, for him to fuck you. He knows what you want, he knows what he wants and he especially knows it's the same damn thing. But he gets off on having you say it, asking for his cock that you can feel throbbing right above you as he loosens his pants.

“I,”

You’re getting choked up on words, barely having caught your breath from what he’d just done to you, and even more choked on the words you have to say.

“Be a good girl, and spit it out wontcha?”

You buck your hips at that simple phrase, feeling his heat press against yours in the process are you even more dizzied by the simple touch of it through the fabric, the friction alone could drive you insane.

“P, please Joel..”

“Please fuck me.”

The words almost moaned out of your voice as you take another chance to grind on his cock, taking in the friction, the pure size of it to get you off feels so easy and so intense. He chuckles slightly,

“I can't say no to a lady when she asks nicely now can I?”

A voice even deeper than his usual is what utters that sentence, something deeply sexual has overtaken him. Bits seen in the way he treated you before but you feel like now that with a simple tonal shift, you’re being exposed to a well-versed, since-forgotten part of Joel. and as he takes his jeans off with ease, and yours with even greater-- letting them slide down your hips slowly as he takes in the unveiling of the rest of your body beneath him, you could tell that fact was more true than you could ever imagine.

So there you two were, in but underwear to control how tense he was, and to withhold how wet you were. However that didn't last for long as he felt his fingers past the lining of your underwear to your heat;

“God, sweetheart. All this for me hm?”

And as he moves close to your ear, with a dark rugged tone,

“You want me cock so fucking bad don't you?”

Lifting himself back up again to look down on you, his posture slightly bent to keep his hands feeling you up you can't do anything but moan and whimper over it. Grinding on his fingers that barely touch your clit you desperately ride him for any speck of sensation to overtake you.

“I can't wait any fucking longer. God, you’re a sight don't ya’know that? When you're not talking up my ear, when you’re obedient, I can't fucking resist you darling.”

He takes his fingers away from where they once were to your disapproving whines and begging with your body. Though soon after you feel something much larger than a finger feel your heat. His hands find your body once more but only to slide your underwear past your hip, and give his cock more room to feel the mess you made for it.

Sliding it up and down your clit carefully, between your folds did you find the teasing unbearable. Feeling him twitching against you, hearing his groans at the slightest traction his cock would find between the wetness in between you, you couldn't do anything but moan his name. Asking him to please fuck you.

After a few more pulses outside you, he lifts your legs to be upon his shoulders before going inside of you. His head knocked back in a deep groan as he slowly entered you, A bite to his lip and a feeling of tight grip around your legs was almost simultaneous as he finally gave himself exactly what he’d been throbbing for the moment he stepped out of that bar. Your legs shake at mere impact, feeling them suppressed by the grip of his rough hands around you, There's no more that you can do but grip the sheets covering the bed for some semblance of support through neverending moans as he goes out as slowly as he went in.

“Fuck you’re perfect for me arent’ya”

Escapes him through groans as he holds back as much as he can as he goes in and out of you. Savoring every inch of you by the pace of every pulse. Though as he reaches to a certain point, he stops flush against you, entirely inside of you. In the seconds he spent like that you could feel him absolutely fill you. He was perfect, just enough to hit the exact spots you never could yourself. But as he almost exits you once again he enters with a great deal more intensity. Quickness. He can't hold himself back anymore, and as the thrusts get more uneven and his groans become louder; clashing with moans that go in unison with every move inside of you you feel your whole body move with his cock. As he gripped you by your thighs and held your body to thrust into him, you felt every inch of himself through every nerve in your body. Every part of your body was coated with pleasure at the sight of him almost manhandling you like this. Sweating, groaning, panting, and cursing over how fucking good you felt made you feel like you were going to cum.

And almost like he read your mind, he moves one of his arms to your clit, and places his thumb right on top of it;

“I'm going to make you finish the same time as me, think you can do that darling?”

He was close too, and you didn't care where he did it.

As his words grow jumbled under mutters and covered groans of pleasure as his breath became unsteady at the feeling of you wrapped around him more and more as his fingers pleasured you even more than you can imagine, you feel yourself climaxing right on his cock, feeling your walls contract over him that felt so hard inside of you it made it feel even better to finish on.

That was more than enough for him, as your screams for his name echoed through his walls he hammered straight into you, sweat coating his peppered hair as he watches you orgasm right below him, he groans your name with a final shove deep inside of you, letting his cum drip down every part of you.

Slowly he removed himself from you, leaving behind a trail of white to seep down from inside of you, to the mattress you lay on.

“You were such a good girl, I'll get us some stuff to clean up. Why don't you stay here a while.”

Is whispered into the only ear uncovered as your head tilts to lay on the mattress in exhaustion, as gruff as ever but with a softness to his voice that bore kindness that felt so needed after a night like that.

You stay lying there for a bit, as Joel goes to clean himself up then you, and then to gather some blankets for the two of you as you dip in and out of slumber.

That night, of course, was the first of many nights thereafter. All underlying with the screams for his pleasure, and ended with his body wrapped around yours til night's end. And through that, he slowly warmed up to you.

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murdockjonescagerand · 9 months

Text

Needs.

3.3k, joel miller x virgin f!reader | joel master

Summary: Joel wants to find a bed before you go all the way, but neither of you can wait that long.

A/N: Follows Aches (900) and Thoughts (1.6), but can read alone.

WARNINGS: I8+, big girthy age gap (20/50s), still only one sleeping bag, pining, c*ck hunger, fingering, grinding, masturbation, oral m receiving, cum eating, unsafe P in V, reluctantly pulling out, loss of virginity, pet names, praise, POV alternates, NO Y/N.

“God have mercy,” he mutters to himself.

He's gonna give it to ya good one day, but not yet. Not in a sleeping bag on the forest floor. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet, he tells himself . . . Your first time shouldn’t be like this. Shouldn’t be here. But god damn . . .

-------

It’s all over your face. He’s never seen anything like it, the way you crave his cock. You shamelessly stare at his pants. His whole body, really. You were bad enough before you touched it, and it’s only gotten worse. You can’t focus, you can’t listen. It’s dangerous. He should put a stop to this, take it away cold turkey. Sleep back-to-back. But you both have needs, and he's not gonna do that.

Joel feels like he might as well be a virgin himself, it's been so long for him. Frankly, he’s dying to put it in you just as much as you long to have it. He’s been trying to wait until Jackson so he can do it somewhere safe, somewhere a little nicer, more comfortable.

He wants to wait and make sure it's nice and special for you, but good lord, you’re makin' it hard. You make the sweetest little sounds when he touches you, and even when he doesn’t, like in your sleep. You ask him things like, “doesn’t sex feel better than hands?” He tells you half-truths, like “not always.” Of course it would with you. Of course it would.

You’re in the forest. With dusk approaching, you're just about to set up camp while there's still light. Joel is taking a leak at the edge of a small clearing, calculating mileage in his head, counting down the days ‘til you should get there. His back could use a real bed, too. He's shaking his dick dry and a twig snaps behind him. His head whips around and he reaches for his gun.

It’s you. God damnit, he could’ve killed you.

“Can I see it?” you ask.

“What the hell are ya doin’ over here?”

“I just wanna see it.” You look down toward his jeans. “Can I?”

It’s fair that you’re curious, he knows that. You mentioned it the night before with your hand wrapped around it, I wanna see it, really see it, I bet it’s good looking. You’ve only felt it at night and caught glimpses in the moonlight. At the time, he mindlessly reassured you, you’ll see it, baby, you'll see my cock, and he should’ve known you’d spring this on him.

“Not now,” he mutters, trying to calm his heart rate. “Can ya gimme a second, honey?”

“Okay.” He can hear the sadness, practically see the disappointment on your face. God damnit. He tucks himself away and zips up. You're only about eight feet away. “Now?”

“No. Ain’t nothin’ to see right now.” You probably don’t realize what a big difference it can make.

“What do you mean”

“Just trust me, it’s not how you wanna see it.”

“Why?"

“Cause it ain’t as. . .”

“Ain’t as what?”

“Nothin’, baby. Just not the right time.”

“Better if we’re close together, right?” You step closer.

He closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, and takes a deep breath. “This ain’t the time or the place, honey.”

When he looks at you again, your face has fallen, and you mumble, “K.”

He puts a big, comforting hand on your shoulder and walks you back to where y'all are setting up camp. “When we find a bed, I’ll show ya. . .”

"And when we find a bed," you repeat. Don't say it, don't say it, he prays to God you don't say it. "We can do it, right?" He doesn't answer. "You can put your cock inside me, right?"

Fuck, you're gonna drive this old man crazy. At least one of you needs your wits about you if you'll ever make it to Jackson. "We'll see," he sighs.

After a moment of silence, your voice trembles as you ask, "We'll see? Why not yes?"

"Cause we ain't gonna make it there at this rate," he complains, then sighs with instant regret. "I'm sorry, honey. But you gotta try to knock it off with this stuff."

You swallow and your eyes glimmer. "Sorry," you whisper.

He turns away to adjust himself, then sits down on the ground, leaning back against a log and extends an arm for you. "S'okay, c'mere."

You sit on the ground next to him. He squeezes your shoulder and changes the topic to twenty questions.

——

He’s nicer at night. He’s nice in the day, too, mostly. Once in a while, you can tell you’re annoying him, and you feel bad. If only he knew how many times you thought about it and didn't say something, he’d appreciate your efforts. It’s practically all you think about. It’s even worse now that you feel it in your hand every night, but the last thing you want is for that to stop.

You had been thinking about it all day when you finally asked what you thought was an easy request – if you could just see it, just a glimpse while he already had it out anyway.

Even if you don’t get to see it, at least it’s easy enough to recall what it feels like. Smooth, warm, and stiff. Soft veins, tiny wrinkles. A leaking slit.

—--

“Can I taste it?” you ask one night with your little fist wrapped around his shaft.

He groans quietly. “Yeah, you wanna taste it?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, your hand sticky with the lube of your own slick, a bead of precum under your thumb. You smear the precum and let go of his hard cock, making it slap against his stomach. You take your thumb into your mouth and hum, “Mmm,” at the salty taste.

“Whatcha think,” he whispers breathily.

“Can I have your cock in my mouth?”

“Oh, baby, ‘course ya can.” The zipper of the sleeping bag jingles, then you hear the satisfying zzz as it unzips. He folds it down and you get up on your knees. You bend at the hip and don't waste a second. You wrap your thumb and forefinger around the base, trying and failing to make your digits touch.

Then, your lips wrap around the head. He inhales sharply through his teeth.

“Did I hurt you?” you ask.

“God no, honey. Go ‘head, taste it all ya want.”

You curiously tongue the slit and suck for more.

“Oh god damn,” he breathes.

You lick around it under the crown and you’re salivating.

He wraps his hand around yours and moves it up and down, then leaves you be. “Use your spit, honey.” You let it dribble out of your mouth and onto his tip and catch it in your fist. You kitten lick the shaft, tasting your own tang, and letting your saliva fall out of your mouth as it accumulates, occasionally sliding the open ring of your finger and thumb up and down but mostly forgetting because you’re so focused on it in your mouth.

“Ya like that, sweetie? ya like how we taste?” You take a couple inches into your mouth then suck a little more of it in. It twitches against your tongue. The biggest vein throbs.

“Alright, baby,” he pants and takes it from you. He urgently pulls up his own shirt, slides his hand a few times, then comes with a groan, his voice and pulsing manhood making you ache with need, even though he already made you come. You stay there on your knees. In the dim moonlight, you watch his tummy rise and fall with the shiny trail leading to, and pooling in, his navel.

“Can I taste that, too?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he nods.

You dip your tongue in the trail below his navel. It’s thicker, headier, saltier than the precum. It’s not every day you get to taste something new. It’s not often at all. It's delicious.

“Like it,” you whisper.

“Yeah? take all ya want.”

You lick and seal your lips as you suck it up. You pause to pluck a hair from your teeth, then continue to his navel. You dip your tongue in and his stomach flexes abruptly. You take your mouth off and pause. “Sorry,” you whisper.

“Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout.”

You tongue his navel, then suck, and he inhales a chest full of air as you do it, his stomach rising into your lips. You lick up every drop.

“Good girl,” he sighs and cups your cheek. “Such a good girl," he sighs.

—

All day you think about it in your mouth, in your hand, resting hard against your back, between your thighs. You imagine it all over your body. Doesn’t matter if he’s pressing it up against your hip or resting it in the crook of your elbow, God, you just want to feel it somewhere. You try not to think about it inside you too much because that makes you want it so bad, you could cry. Like really cry.

It’s not a want. It's a need. You see it happening everywhere you look. You see a tree, and you imagine him sitting on the forest floor against it, holding his cock at attention, ready for you to sit on it. You see another tree and he’s pinning you up against it with your legs wrapped around him, jeans pulled down under his ass as he rails you. You see a patch of moss and cluster of ferns that would be a nice pillow with him on top of you.

You think about it, and you dream about it, too. You can’t help that. He starts wearing jeans to sleep, and you can’t feel the shape of him quite as well against you, but it doesn’t matter. The fact that it’s there and it’s hard is enough to drive you mad. Even after he gets you off, it's bound to come back at some point in the night. Worst case scenario, you lose sleep over it. Best case, it works its way into your dreams.

----

One night, you're moaning in your sleep again, and Joel can hardly take it. His cock is painfully stiff and the strain against his jeans makes him ache. His hips press into you on their own; he can't stop them. All he can do is take off his jeans in hopes that being free of the rigid confines will lend some relief. He was wearing them as an extra layer between the two of you for this exact scenario, but he can no longer bear it.

On one hand, he’s taking precautions, like keeping his jeans on. But on the other hand, in the heat of the moment, when he’s touching you, he’s taking measures to prepare you, and to see how ready you are. Lately, he scissors his fingers, inserts three to see how you take it. “Good girl, that’s real good, honey.” He curls them inside you, “Ohhh, baby, you’re takin’ this real good.”

God, he wants a bed for this. You deserve a fuckin' mattress at the very least. He’s gotta wait. And yet now he finds himself taking off his jeans. He carefully removes them without waking you up. He lies there with his fist around his cock for a minute, still in his boxers, doing nothing but softly squeezing, as if that’ll make it go away. Then he resigns himself to the magnetism of your body. He curves his form around yours again and silently sighs as the hardness in his boxers rests against you and he wraps you in a hug. He manages not to thrust against your ass, but in no time, you're pushing yourself back against him. "Joel," you mumble in your sleep.

"God have mercy," he mutters to himself.

He's gonna give it to ya good one day, but not yet. Not in a sleeping bag on the forest floor. Not yet. . . not yet. . . not yet, he tells himself, taking deep calming breaths. Your first time shouldn’t be like this. Shouldn’t be here. But god damn he wants to take that tight little hole.

"Joel,” you whine and push back on him again. He can't stand it. He really can't. He has to wake you up.

He whispers, "Whatcha dreamin 'bout, sweetie?" then feels your breathing change.

When you blink awake, your hips are slowly moving, pushing your ass back into Joel's hard cock until you stop yourself.

"Sorry," you mumble. "Did I wake you up?" The sweet sound of your voice isn’t helping.

"Don't be sorry, baby," he murmurs into your hair.

"I dunno how to stop it," you whisper. "I'm sorry."

"Nothin' to be sorry 'bout, baby doll." He hugs you tight. “Don’t be embarrassed.” His cock swells harder against you. He whispers in your ear, "They want each other real bad, that's all."

"I know."

"Have a good dream?"

You sigh. “Yeah.”

“‘bout what?”

“I dunno if you wanna hear it,” you tell him. Fair enough, he's told you to knock it off, after all.

“Sure I do, honey. Was it you and me?”

“Yeah,” you wedge your hand between your legs.

"You want a hand?"

“Yeah.”

“What’d ya dream?” he asks as he reaches into your panties. "God damn," he whispers. You're soaked, swollen, and your clit is throbbing against his hand. "Poor thing." He thrusts his hardness against your ass. "No wonder you're tryin' to get at this, huh?"

You're quiet.

"No wonder ya can't stop thinkin' ‘bout it." He thrusts against you again and moans softly. "What'd ya dream, baby?"

“It was. . .” you can hardly form words thinking about it. It was so vivid, so real. “We were right here, like this.”

“Yeah?” He uses your ample moisture to lightly rub your clit.

He begins to make peace with himself that this might happen before he wants. He hooks his fingers into your panties. “Let’s take these off for a lil bit, hmm? Let her breathe.”

“Okay.” You bend your knees as he pulls your soaked panties down.

—-

"We were right here like this, in the dream?" He repeats.

“You took it out of your pants,” you whisper. He moans softly, takes his hand away, and jostles behind you. Then you feel his naked cock against your skin. Your breath hitches and you whimper at the contact. He returns his hand between your legs and lazily circles your clit, pressing his naked dick against you.

"Took it out like this?" He asks soft and deep.

"Yeah,"

He thrusts against you and whispers in your ear, "Then what?"

"You put it between my legs."

He inhales sharply then wedges his cock between your thighs, shuddering as he slides it forward along your dripping seam and the head meets his fingers on your clit.

You tilt your hips and he whispers, "Oh, baby. Like this?"

"No, you put it inside," you whisper.

Joel's breath hitches and he twitches against your heat. You moan. He slides slowly through your folds to your clit and back. He tries to slow down and think it over, but there are no thoughts, just his stiff, aching cock and your tight little pussy begging for it.

——

“Will you do that,” you ask, looking over your shoulder but not enough to meet his eyes.

Joel takes a deep breath. “You think I should? Don’t wanna wait for a bed?” He thrusts in small pulses. “Just a few days, baby.”

“They wanna be together real bad,” you whisper. “how they’re meant to be," you remind him.

Joel groans at your words. “I know, baby doll.” He takes a deep breath. “How’d it feel in your dream?”

“Full, really full,” you tell him, then sigh. “Felt so big.’

“Ohh, fuck,” Joel breathes into your hair and slides his cock against you, wet and stiff.

“It was like I was hugging you with my, um,” you say, then swallow and tilt your hips. "Hugging it."

“God damn,” he sighs. He pulls his cock back, and as he slides it forward again, it catches at your entrance. You spread your thighs ever so slightly. “You sure ‘bout this,” he confirms, and uses the hand between your legs to nestle his tip just inside. You gasp.

“Yeah,” you nod. “Yes, please. Joel, please,” you whine. You push back on him with a small grunt, stretching yourself open on his tip.

“Oh god, baby,” he sighs, then he holds you still and slowly pushes himself inside with a quiet groan muffled by your hair. “Fuck, you’re–ohh, you’re tight.” You gasp as his girth parts your walls and your body makes room for him. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod urgently, and he twitches inside you.

You shiver with pleasure as he pushes further and sighs, “Oh, baby.”

“Joel,” you whine, “its so big”

“Too big?”

“No,” you reassure him. “I want it.”

He pushes the rest of himself in until his pelvis is flush. He breathes heavily and mutters, “fuck.”

You moan and push back on him. “s’perfect,” you whine.

“you like havin’ me in here?”

“I love it,” you say.

“As much as the dream?”

“More than the dream.”

“What happened next?” he asks

“Then you it moved like you do in my hand.”

“Yeah,” he begins to rock his hips, his thick cock dragging inside you. “Like this?”

“nnngghh–yeah,” you nod then gasp as you're filled by his length again. “ohhh,” you moan. "And then you came inside—”

He groans, then pants as he’s moving inside you, “Ohh fuck, sweetie I can’t—ohh, I can’t do that, uggghh–god damn.”

“Felt so good, like a massage”

“Ohh, baby, please don’t–”

“And warm”

“Fuck,” he breathes and covers your mouth with his free hand, bicep flexing under your neck as he does it. No way he’s gonna last with you talking like that.

He begins to slowly move again and you whimper. You’re right, it is like you’re hugging him. You’re so tight and wet for him, taking his cock so good.

"Good girl," he whispers, burying his length in you every second or so, only pulling back halfway each time.

"Such a good girl, wantin' my cock so bad." He moans. "Waitin' all this time—uggh." You push your hips back to meet his thrusts. "That's my girl, takin' me so good," his next thrust is harder and you moan. "Yeah, just like that," he breathes. His hand teases your clit as he fucks you. You whimper and he repeats, "just like that," his voice shakier, his breath heavier on your ear, “yeah.”

You moan into his hand, and his fingers circle your clit. “C’mon, baby,” he pants. “Gonna come on my cock?” You nod and hum your agreement. “Better do it now, then, you can do it.”

You let go and your clit pulses madly, your walls clench down on him. It feels so good, your eyes well up in tears.

“Ohh, baby,” he sighs, and suddenly pulls out. He replaces his cock with two fingers that your cunt begins to hug. “Such a good girl, squeezin’ my fingers.”

His aching arousal presses against your ass, and he humps against you as he fingers you. “Ohh, yea--ohhhh.” His cock begins to pulse, spreading a silky warmth across your skin. He moans and sighs as you finish coming on his fingers and his balls empty.

—-

He uses a shirt of his to clean you up. As his breathing calms down, he hears you sniffling. “Hey, hey, you okay, sweetie?”

You’re fine, more than fine, but you can’t talk.

“Shit,” he mutters to himself when you don’t answer. He peeks over your side, gently stroking your arm. “Hey, c’mere, talk to me, sweetie.” You turn around and face him. “You okay, honey?”

You nod and smile at him with watery eyes.

His brows knit as he finishes catching his breath. He kisses you on the forehead and wraps you in a hug. You sniffle again and he speaks into your hair. “I know that was a big deal for you, baby.” He pulls his head back and tilts your chin up. “It was big for me too, okay?” You nod. He reads your eyes, then presses his lips into yours. He reads your face again, then repeats the kiss and you kiss him back. He kisses you on the forehead and holds you, stroking your head. You fall asleep holding each other face-to-face.

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Thank you so much for reading and engaging! Your comments and reblogs go a long way in motivation so if you liked it plz consider saying something 🫶. There's a virgin section on my joel master list right above the one shots. Left in Lincoln is a pretty similar Joel, in terms of how he is with you sexually. For more Joel POV, the most recent raider, Night Air, has a lot.

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