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toxicanonymity · 5 months

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5.7k words, Joel x f!reader x Tommy | sequel here! A/N: ONE SHOT. I had to get this out of my system after that one Uncle Tommy line I wrote in september lol. Shoutouts to: @bonezone44 for being an Uncle Tommy stan, @walkintotheriveranddisappear for running the center for dvp excellence, and everyone who's been supportive. 🖤 Fic recs at the bottom. WARNINGS: I8+, big girthy age gap, darkish miller bros, dubcon (coaxing/pressure, you aren't sure what Joel allows), use of "daddy," sharing, unsafe p in v (individually and together), oral, jacking off, creampies, cucking, MFM, DP (double vag), light degradation, praise, pet names, foot massage. AU where you don't overthink this fic. You’re happy with Joel, but it’s not a healthy relationship with clear communication and boundaries. Joel carries reader. TW: incidental incest via MFM/DVP - If this isn't for you, please quietly move along.

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Joel squats down with one hand on the back of your chair. He admires your face then cups your cheek. “Gotta do somethin’, baby. Won’t be back tonight.” The casual announcement makes your heart race. He kisses you on the forehead, then stands up.

“What do you mean you won’t be back tonight?”

“It’s okay, baby. Uncle Tommy’s gonna stay with ya.”

Your face gets hot. Tommy tilts his head down and smiles at you from across the breakfast table. He raises his glass of juice in acknowledgement, but you don’t look at him. You look squarely at Joel, caught off guard by his plans.

“Daddy,” you whine. “Just lemme come with you.”

“Ain’t that kinda trip, darlin’.”

“Why can’t he do it?”

Tommy laughs silently and his voice goes up an octave. “What’sa matter, sweetheart? Don’t wanna hang out?” He tilts his head and smiles, then his normal voice returns. “That’s okay.” There's a glimmer in his eye.

Joel grabs his jacket and kisses you goodbye, then says, “Don’t have too much fun without me,” and winks at Tommy. Then Joel's gone, just like that. Your tummy feels nervous as his truck starts, then drives away.

It's Thanksgiving week. You have a lot to be thankful for. Joel loves you and takes good care of you. You have solar power and a nice farm with a secure perimeter. Tommy is visiting for the holiday. You met Tommy in passing long ago, but his girl at the time was with him, and that was before you were Joel’s. You were just the girl down the street. This week is the first time you've really spent time together.

Joel would kill any other man for touching you, but apparently he's different about Tommy. You're still figuring out how that works. Joel doesn't seem to mind what Tommy sees–or feels–when the three of you are together. But what about when you're alone?

Does Joel know Tommy walked by the bedroom window and saw you undressing? Does he know Tommy came to apologize for that when you were fresh out of the shower, and saw you in a towel? Or that he looked you up and down, asked if Joel was treating you right, then gave a low whistle and adjusted himself before he left? Or that you touched yourself almost as soon as he closed the door?

*******

Last night, Joel put you in Tommy's lap in the armchair to give you a foot massage, and you tried not to react when Tommy got hard. “It's ok,” Tommy whispered with his hands on your hips. He pulled you back against his hard bulge with a soft grunt and it gave you a shock of desire.

“It's ok, darlin,” Joel echoed, kneeling at your feet. Joel placed your heel on his own hardening package as he worked on the ball of your foot.

Tommy's hand cupped your breast and you tensed.

Joel glanced up. “Relax, baby. It's just Uncle Tommy.”

“It's ok,” Tommy whispered again into your hair as his other hand crept up your thigh, higher and higher, until his thumb grazed your panties. Joel continued massaging you, unbothered, then switched to the other foot.

Tommy's thick fingers glided over your panties and you twitched as he felt the dampness. He lifted his hips with a soft grunt, then cleared his throat. “gonna take care of your girl tonight, Joel? She's drippin’ like a faucet.” Your cheeks burned, and Tommy ran his hand down your thigh.

Joel smiled with half his mouth as he glanced up. “makin’ a mess already?” Joel shook his head. “Close your legs, darlin'.”

Your stomach dropped and you stammered, “sorry, uh . . .”

But as soon as you closed your legs, Tommy lifted your dress up, making your whole body tingle with goosebumps. Joel’s face gave away nothing as he looked past you at Tommy. For a moment, you thought Tommy had gone too far. Then Joel hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, and Tommy held you back against his chest as Joel slid them off. Joel spread your knees, and Tommy's, and knelt between them, closer.

With his armpits resting over your thighs, Joel looked at your cunt hungrily and spread you open with his thumbs. You tilted your hips for him, feeling yourself gush. “Good girl,” he murmured, then planted his right forearm on your lower belly. With his right fingers pointing down, he ran them through your dripping folds, then drew in a deep breath through his nose before bringing his mouth between your legs.

Joel lapped at your weeping hole and sucked your clit. He fingered you and made out with your cunt like it was just another night, like he was getting ready to fuck you. Meanwhile, Tommy lightly grinded into your ass, breathing warm and wet into your hair and holding you gently in his strong arms as Joel devoured your pussy. Tommy rocked you gently on his lap, rocking you into Joel’s mouth. Joel ate you out at the same rhythm. When you came, Tommy’s arousal pressed harder against you and he grabbed your breast. He cooed, “good girl.”

Joel didn't seem to mind, and it felt really good, but you got self conscious after you finished. Tommy caressed your arm as Joel wiped his mouth off. “I'm sleepy, daddy,” you looked at him with big eyes.

Joel looked at you fondly, squeezed your thigh, and said, “I know, darlin’. Give Uncle Tommy a kiss goodnight.” You turned around and kissed him on the cheek, then mumbled “goodnight” without meeting his eyes.

—

Joel scooped you up in his arms. You went to bed with Joel and only Joel. As soon as he laid you down, you asked, “you're not mad about Tommy touching me?”

“Felt good, didn't it?”

You gave a small nod.

“Nice havin’ four hands.” Joel raised his eyebrows and left it at that.

You eyed the protrusion in his jeans. “I'm comin’, baby,” he reassured you as he unzipped them. He pulled his jeans and boxers down together and his massive erection sprang free. He prowled across the bed, settled between your legs, and you raised your knees, tilting your hips for him. “Good girl,” he whispered as he got himself into place.

“God damn, even wetter now,” he muttered as he gathered your slick on his fingers and wiped it on his stiff cock. His tip prodded your dripping hole, then he pushed inside with a sigh, making you moan as he split you open. Joel bottomed out, and the sound that came out of his chest was somewhere between a grunt and a groan, “Uungghh.” You whimpered in pleasure. Then, through the thin wall, you heard Tommy cum with a deep moan. Joel chuckled, then bowed his head and kissed you, pausing all the way inside.

Joel kissed you softly as he buried his length in you, and your lips broke away only to whimper, “Daddy.”

“Yeah, baby doll,” he whispered into the pillow, right by your ear. “Daddy’s here.” You wrapped your legs around him as he fucked you deep and slow. You imagined Tommy lying behind you, grinding against you, whispering “good girl,” copping a feel as Joel fucked you. You moaned and whimpered under Joel as he brought you to the brink again. Then, as your wet little pussy fluttered around his cock, he groaned and bottomed out to fill you with his seed.

**********

Now it’s morning, Joel's gone, and you're left alone with his brother. His brother with the sweet smile, soft voice, and big dick that felt so hard against you. Don't have too much fun without me, Joel said. . . With a wink. Unsure what to do with that, you avoid Tommy for most of the day, and he doesn't make you hang out with him. He works in the yard and you catch a few glimpses. He gets hot and takes off his flannel, exposing his wifebeater and oversized belt buckle. As he dabs his forehead with his shirt, his bicep swells and the veins on his hand bulge.

Tommy comes in and takes a shower in the other bathroom. There’s a knock on your bedroom door, then it opens. You’re not sure why you didn’t lock it. Tommy’s wearing jeans, boxers, and nothing else. Your eyes linger on his strong chest. He leans with his hand against the door frame. “Think Joel would let me borrow a shirt? Wasn’t plannin’ to work up a sweat,” he chuckles.

Tommy crosses his muscular arms over his thick, bare chest as you get a white t-shirt out of Joel's dresser and toss it to him. Tommy’s jeans ride down as he lifts his arms and puts the shirt on in front of you. He catches you looking as his head comes through the hole, then he rakes his fingers through his curls. A subtle smile forms, his eyes twinkle, and he gives you a little nod before he walks away.

—

Later, you're taking a bath. You sigh as you sink into the water. Then there's a click as the doorknob lock is effortlessly picked. The door opens and Tommy smiles at you with his eyes, biting his bottom lip. He closes the door behind him. The tub squeaks as you quickly pull up your knees to cover your breasts.

“Musta been touchin’ yourself, huh?” he chuckles as he approaches the tub. “Don't stop on my account.” He winks and his eyes fall on your legs. You scooch them closer together in case he can see through the bathwater.

Your chest feels warm. You look down and away.

Tommy takes a seat on the tiled floor in front of the garden tub. “C’mon sweetheart, don't be shy.” his arm moves out of view, unbuttoning his jeans. Your nipples harden. He tilts his head to peek from the side and smiles.

“What do you want?” you ask softly and a low squeak echoes as you shift in the tub.

“Wanna see ya do it. Go on, finish what ya started.”

“I wasn't.”

“There's no shame in it, sweetheart”

You swallow and look down.

He studies your face and repeats, “Nothin' to be ‘shamed of. You know that. Right?”

“Tell your brother that,” you whisper and instantly regret it. You pinch your eyes shut and add, “No, don't. . .Please.”

“Oh shit,” Tommy whispers. “Ya can’t, can ya?”

You barely shake your head, eyes still closed.

Tommy chuckles. “Controlling fucker, ain't he?”

You look at Tommy and your eyes widen with some defiant glimmer of hope. “God damn,” he whispers. “keepin’ his girl from touchin’ herself.” He looks down and shakes his head in disapproval.

He smiles apologetically. “Guess Daddy knows best, huh?” He tugs his jeans off, and you watch unabashed. As his pants come off, his boxers ride down, exposing his short, dark pubic hair. You can’t help but admire the way his thigh muscles swell out from his boxers.

He palms himself over the fabric and raises his eyebrows. “Wanna see it, don’t ya?” He smiles knowingly at you.

You don’t answer. He shows you anyway, pulling the waistband down under his balls. He's neatly trimmed and his balls are big. He's engorged but not fully hard.

“Do me a favor and spit in my hand, sweetheart.” He holds it out in front of you. You look back and forth between his eyes, then his freckles. He's a handsome man. His hand stays there, waiting patiently. You gather saliva in your mouth, tilt your head forward, and let it drop into his palm.

“Good girl,” he murmurs.

He wraps his hand around his cock and You look into the bath water as his eyes devour your body. In the corner of your eye, you can see him at full mast. He breathes heavier, then moves positions. He sits with his right side against the tub, facing you. He strokes himself with his left hand and dips his right hand into the water. You flinch away then try to relax. The backs of Tommy’s fingers graze your calf under the water. You squeeze your thighs together.

“Don't get shy on me now, cupcake.” He reaches behind your calf and touches the back of your leg, near your ass. Your legs involuntarily part. He wouldn't do anything Joel wouldn't like. Would he? Somehow the tension of the situation is only making you want it more. His fingers creep between your legs and caress your inner thigh crease. He sucks in a chest full of air, then gets on his knees. He brings his left hand to your mouth again for lube.

“Good girl.” The squelch of his hand around his cock echoes with the new moisture. He searches your face as half his mouth breaks into a smile. He holds your inner thigh as he jacks off. Then he straightens your leg so he can see your body better. “God damn,” he murmurs, and the sound of his voice is sharpened by the tile. He rubs your thigh, spits into his other hand, keeps tugging at his cock, then when he's close, he gets up and sits on the edge of the tub. It’s impossible not to look at his stiff, angry cock, glistening with your combined saliva. You still have one knee bent above the water–the knee furthest from him.

He pumps himself and stands up to face you. “You wanna know how I taste?” He asks.

You hesitantly shake your head no, unsure if it would be crossing a line. “Okay, sweetheart. Don't have to.” He aims his cock at the water over your lap, then closes his eyes and groans. “Ohh, God. ohhhh,” it lands sharply in your ears as he erupts. Silky ropes of cum dance in the water, some of it wrapping around your thigh. When he's finished, he pulls his boxers back up, then his jeans, but doesn't zip them up. He sits on the edge of the tub again, leans over it, and kisses you on the forehead. Then he whispers in your ear, “I'll make dinner.”

—-

You eat together at the kitchen table. There's a cornucopia centerpiece. The scant conversation is about winter and gardening, until he reaches under the table and squeezes your thigh. You want him so bad, you blurt out, “what’s happening?”

He replies, “Huh?” with his hand still on your thigh.

You search Tommy’s face. “You said it yourself, he’s controlling.” You shift in your chair and he takes his hand back. You continue, “Why doesn’t he care if you. . .”

“Ah,” Tommy smiles down at his plate. “Well. . .” He turns his chair to face you instead of the table. He sits back and manspreads, and his hands rest on his thighs. “I’m just another body to love ya with, sugar.” His eyes drift to the cornucopia. “And I sure am thankful for it.”

His eyes return to you, and your heart flutters.

“He can love on ya when he ain’t here, even.” One of his hands slides up his own thigh to rest closer to his groin. He takes in a deep breath through his nose and nods, admiring you as he slowly exhales. His eyes are darker.

A desperate want is stirring in your belly. It seems too good to be true. You abruptly announce, “I’m tired. I’m gonna go to bed.”

“Okay, cupcake. C’mere,” Tommy opens his arms.

You stand between his legs, bend forward, put your arms around his neck and kiss him on the cheek. As you pull your head back, his hands on your hips pull you into sitting on his thigh. He brings a hand to your cheek, and it melts you. “I wouldn’t do nothin’ he wouldn’t want,” he reassures you.

You nod.

“End up on the wrong side of the dirt,” he chuckles. When you don’t laugh, he clarifies, “Me, not you. He’d never hurt ya, cupcake.”

Then he cradles your head with both hands, studying your eyes and lips. He wets his lips, and your lips part, watching him. Half his mouth twitches. You’re warm all over. He leans in and looks at your mouth again, getting closer. When you can practically feel the heat of his lips on yours, you close the gap and feel a rush of need when your mouths come together. His lips are soft, and the kiss is tender. You pull away after two seconds.

“Goodnight,” you whisper.

—---

You lie in bed missing Joel, wishing he would come home. You feel more at ease with the two of them. Your mind drifts to Tommy. At this rate, you wish he would stay. You’re almost asleep when the bedroom door creaks open.

“Daddy?” When you turn over, the moonlit silhouette is Tommy's. He's only wearing boxers and there's already a tent in them. He lifts the covers, and the mattress dips under his weight.

You ask, “What are you doing?”

“'S’okay, cupcake, I told ya. Promise he won’t be mad.”

“How do you know for sure?”

“Your daddy and I been sharin’ our toys for fifty years.”

Your stomach turns, but Tommy adds, “You're the most special of all, ya know.” He scoots closer. “Never seen him in love before.”

You feel your body warming and opening up for him.

“He wants ya to get what ya need, baby,” Tommy whispers.

Your heart pounds.

“Even told me your secret word,” Tommy adds.

“He did?”

“If ya really want me to stop, all ya gotta say is Appleseed.” How would he know that unless Joel told him?

You turn away from Tommy and he doesn't waste any time before spooning you. His strong arm rests over you and his hand cups a breast. He kisses your neck, soft and wet. The thick, warm rod in his boxers grazes your lower back as he tongues your delicate skin. He kisses your neck with increasing passion, and he kneads your breast. Then his arousal fully presses against you through his boxers and your nightgown.

He curves his body around you and pulls you back into him. He sighs and his engorged cock twitches against your crack, giving you a surge of desire. He slides his hand into your nightgown from the top to palm your naked breast and sighs as he grinds against you.

“God damn, sweetheart,” he whispers as your nipple hardens against his palm. He takes his hand out of your nightgown and cups your breast on top of it again, then his hand slowly slides down your sleepwear, feeling every inch of your torso before arriving at your bare thigh. He nudges his fingers under the hem of your nightgown and slides his hand up your thigh. When his hand reaches your pussy, your top leg lifts ever so slightly, spreading your thighs to make room for him. You're not wearing underwear.

“Good girl,” he whispers. You’re aching to have him inside you. “Drippin’ for me ain't ya, baby?”

He circles your clit, and you moan softly. There's a wet spot on his boxers pressing into you. “Fuck” he mutters and backs up his hips. “Damnit, I’m drippin’, too,” he chuckles. “Takin’ these off.”

After taking his boxers off, Tommy hovers over you and you’re still on your side. Tommy's hand comes back to your breast, and you turn your face toward his. Your lips meet, and after two seconds, you don’t pull away. His lips push yours open and you accept his tongue. You breathe through your nose as he licks into your mouth.

Tommy pulls back and reads your face, then gives you another soft kiss before settling in behind you, against you, curled around you again. His naked cock is smooth and warm against your ass. He grinds against you for a minute as he massages your breast and moans into your hair. Then his hand drifts down between your legs and he groans at how wet you are.

“I gotta be in ya, sugar.” Tommy backs up and wedges his rigid cock between your thighs, and it glides smoothly through your mess of arousal. His tip reaches your clit. You’re throbbing needily. Your hips tilt on their own, offering him your hole.

“Fuck,” Tommy says as his tip finds your entrance. “Fuck. That’s right, baby.” he pushes his tip into you. You're dying for it, but you're still a little tense and it's making you even tighter.

“God damn, you feel good. Can't imagine when he first–.” He pushes into you, trying to let your body relax and accommodate his girth. “Oh shit, mmm–that musta been–Fuck.” He pushes a little further. “Relax for me, baby.” He withdraws some then thrusts further into you. “Relax, sugar,” he whispers. “Just breathe.” You take a deep breath and relax. The last of him slides in and he bottoms out. “Ohh, good girl. There we go.” He palms your breast and you melt into him. “We’re right here, baby.”

He’s got you speared on his cock, spread apart by his girth. “God damn. What a good girl.”

With his cock fully sheathed, his thick fingers rub circles on your nipple. You moan, twitching around the new cock buried in the hot center of your body. “Mmm,” he growls into your hair, still not moving. You need friction. He breathes deeply. “breathe with me, baby.” You breathe with him and feel yourself relax more.

“Please,” you whine, beginning to move your hips.

His voice is husky. “God damn. Look at ya, sugar. Fuckin’ yourself on Uncle Tommy’s cock?”

“Please,” you whimper again.

“What's your daddy gonna think?”

Your walls twitch and your heart skips a beat. “You said–”

“Yeah. . .He'll be fine, sweetheart..” Tommy begins to move his hips. “He’d be proud’a ya, takin’ this cock like such a good girl.”

He begins to fuck you at a steady rhythm, breathing heavily and cursing softly. You begin to relax with his hand mapping the front of your body, and his stiff cock thrusting into you. He palms your tit again and your head tilts back against him. He kisses your neck, and your body opens for him even more. Your cunt swallows him up with every thrust.

“Ohh, Joel's a lucky man,” he pants with his dick easily sliding into you, making you whole. “Shit, I'm lucky, too–uggh.” You push back on him as he fills you with his stiff cock.

He asks, “Little harder?”

“Mm,” you nod.

He slams into you and you moan.

“Yeah, that's our girl.”

Soon, you’re lost in the pleasure of Tommy’s thick cock pounding you.

The front door unlocks and you freeze. You’re both facing away from the bedroom door. “‘S’okay,” Tommy reminds you. He slows his hips, then bottoms out and pauses. “C’mere,” he wraps his arms around you and with his cock still inside, he rolls over on his back, then sets you down on your other side, arms still wrapped around you, his cock only sliding out half way in the process.

As soon as you’re settled, he bottoms out again with a soft moan. You and Tommy are both facing the bedroom door now. The covers are down around your waist. The handle moves, then the door opens. The silhouette is Joel with his sleeves rolled up.

—---

As Joel approaches the bed, the moonlight hits him and his face is dark.

“She’s so good, Joel,” Tommy pants, with you still full of his cock.

Joel comes to the bed and crouches down. “God damn.” Joel gently takes your jaw in his hand and tilts his head. He studies your face, then his eyes land on yours affectionately. “Couldn't go one day, could ya?” He smiles with his eyes and relief washes over you.

“M’sorry daddy,” you sigh. “Are you mad?”

“No, baby.” Tommy is fucking you slowly. “I ain't mad.” Joel slowly stands up and palms himself over his jeans as he watches your body move to the slow rhythm of Tommy’s thrusts.

“Really?”

“Baby, I keep ya stuffed so full’a cock. . . can't blame ya for needin’ it.”

“Yeah,” you whimper.

“That's what Uncle Tommy's here for,” Tommy whispers.

“Now I get to see ya,” Joel says “All of ya,” Joel gently pulls the covers all the way off. Then Joel tugs up at the hem of your nightgown and kneels down to take it off you.

You try to move forward, reaching for Joel, but Joel puts his hand on your bare chest and Tommy pulls you back, bottoming out again with a moan.

“Want yours,” you whimper.

“Shhh. You're gonna get it.”

You watch Joel take off all his clothes, and as he does it, he watches you moving at a slow rhythm. When Joel’s naked, he spits in his hand. He stands by the bed watching you get fucked by his brother, taking in the view as he squeezes his cock.

“Daddy, please,” you whine.

Joel sits down on the bed. Tommy scooches back to make more room and brings you back with him, still impaled on his cock. Joel lies down and faces you. He gets right up against you, and the first thing he does is kiss you. His hard cock lays against your clit and mound, throbbing for you. You moan into his mouth as Tommy’s cock drags slowly inside you from behind.

Joel’s arm wedges between your back and Tommy’s chest, grabbing hold of you. Joel nudges you upward. Tommy takes the hint and pulls out. You wrap your leg over Joel’s hip. His eyes scan your face, marveling at your feral want. Joel’s hand, still on your back, slides down your ass and hooks under it, between your legs, feeling your sopping wet cunt from the back. “God damn, baby. This all you or did Uncle Tommy cum already?”

“Not yet,” Tommy answers.

Joel’s tip slides through your folds, then he pulls back and notches himself at your entrance. He moves his hand to your hip, and pushes into you with a sigh. You're so wet and aroused, he sinks all the way into you. “Fuck,” Joel breathes. “oh, yeah—ugghh–swallowed me right up, baby.” He marvels at how relaxed you are. With Joel’s arm out of the way, Tommy’s tummy returns flush against your back, with his hard, wet cock pressing against your ass cheek. He grabs your tit.

Joel buries his cock in you. “Oh baby, you love this, don’t ya?”

You nod. “Love your cock, daddy.”

“You’re takin’ it so good, baby. Think you’re wet enough for—ohh, darlin’.” He grinds against you, deep inside you. “You wanna ride this cock, baby?”

You nod. Joel slides out of you and you whimper at the loss as he rolls onto his back. Joel lies face up and holds his cock for you. He whispers, “C’mere baby,” but you're already on your way.

You straddle him and sink right down on him with a whimpered, “daddy,” then bend forward, putting your tits against Joel’s chest. Tommy’s slowly stroking himself and watching.

“C’mere,” Joel whispers and reaches for your head. He pulls your face into his for a passionate kiss as you grind into him with his cock buried in you. It only takes a few seconds of grinding into Joel for your walls to spasm.

“Oh god,” he mutters as you contract around him. “oh—oh, God, baby.”

As you finish coming on Joel's cock, your whole body relaxes. You’re even wetter and more open than you were before. “Now you’re–oh yeah, you’re good,” Joel whispers to himself with his hands on the backs of your thighs. You both breathe for a moment and you begin to slowly move again.

Joel licks his finger then reaches over your ass, his hand approaching your hole from behind. You stop moving as he gently wedges the thick digit into your cunt from the top so his fingernail is against his cock. “Yeah,” he whispers, moving the finger around, checking how much you'll stretch. “Yeah,” he says as his head turns and he glances at Tommy.

Joel cups your cheek and reads your face. “Can I fuck ya with two cocks, baby?”

You spasm with an aftershock. “It won't fit,” you protest, but the thought of it turns you on. Your hips begin to move again. You're taking his cock and his finger.

“Can we find out, baby doll?” Joel asks.

You slowly move on his cock and finger, with your face close to his. Your clit is throbbing. “You aren't worried to stretch me?”

“You'll snap right back, baby,” Joel pants as he wedges another finger in with his cock.

“I dunno if I can,” you whine.

“It’s okay, darlin’. Let's find out.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

Tommy gets up on his knees and gets close to Joel's shoulder, near your head.

“Get it nice and wet,” Joel tells you.

Without getting off Joel's cock, you turn your head enough to accept Tommy's cock into your mouth. You let saliva pool under your tongue, then swirl it all over his shaft until he's dripping. “alright” Tommy whispers, then you deposit the rest of the saliva from under your tongue. “Alright, don't make me cum, sweetheart.”

Tommy straddles Joel’s legs behind you while Joel hugs you close.

Tommy nudges your occupied hole. Joel slowly removes his fingers and Tommy’s tip finds its place between the first cock and the back wall of your cunt. Once Tommy's tip is nestled there, Joel’s fingers leave you and both his hands hold your sides.

“Deep breath,” Tommy whispers. You draw in a chest full of air, and when you begin to exhale, he begins to push in.

It burns for a moment as Tommy’s cockhead breaches your dripping hole, but his smooth, wet cock feels better than the fingers. “Fuck,” Tommy mutters as he pushes further.

“Daddy,” you whimper. “It's a lot.”

“I know it is, darlin’, you're doin’ so good.”

“Breathe with me, sweetheart,” Tommy whispers. You take deep breaths and try to relax. The burn fades as your body catches up. The stretch is only a little uncomfortable around their shafts at the very edge of you. Deeper inside, you feel a fullness you couldn't have imagined.

“Good,” Joel says. “doin’ real good, baby. You wanna keep goin’?”

You nod. You take deep breaths and bow your head as Tommy sinks in a little more.

“God damn, baby. Packed full of it, ain’t ya?”Joel marvels. The look on his face makes you twitch.

You lock eyes with Joel, bite your lip, and nod. Joel tilts his hips down toward the bed and you groan into Joel’s chest as Tommy pushes into you as much as he can. The burn is fading, and the sense of fullness overwhelms you in the best way. It's not just physical. You close your eyes and savor it. Joel’s hips begin to move. He slides against your front wall, nudging just the right place, making you whimper.

Tommy slides in rhythm, and his breathing is labored. “Ohhh,” he moans. “Shit-–ugggh.” He warns Joel, “I'm pretty close, brother.”

Joel looks like he's making a calculation behind his eyes. Then he reads your face. “You want double the cum, baby?”

You nod.

“That's my girl,” Joel whispers. “That’s my perfect lil girl.” His hips wiggle under you.

“Ohh-fff-uuggh” Tommy pants and pulls back.

Joel moves his hips and slides within your stuffed hole. Tommy stays still while Joel thrusts a few small strokes and you groan. Tommy pushes forward and you sigh. Joel kisses you. You push back and Tommy slides forward. Joel does another slow thrust upward, then Tommy says “fuck,” pushes another inch, then begins to cum. “Oh god,” Tommy groans. His dick pulses and pulses in your packed cunt as his warm release coats your walls and Joel's cock.

“Jesus,” Tommy sighs, then begins to pull out of you. The burn returns as the crown of his tip crests your entrance on its way out. Then you whimper in relief. There's a sense of loss as your body slowly draws itself back in, but it's a major comfort still being wrapped around Joel's cock. Tommy lies down on his back to recover.

“You did so good baby,” Joel brushes your cheek and his hips lift as your body adjusts itself back to his girth. “Ya like havin’ two cocks?” It’s the first time you haven’t felt packed full from Joel’s cock alone, and your temples feel weak.

You nod hesitantly. “Do I still feel good?”

“Oh darlin’, you feel so good,” he breathes and the tension melts away from your face.

“Yeah, I liked it,” you whisper. “But I only need one.”

He cradles your head and it feels like it's just the two of you. “Love you so much,” he whispers, and brings your face to his again, rolling his hips under you. He kisses you deeply and grinds up into you with his cock all the way inside. Your mouth breaks away with a moan, and your hips begin to move, bringing an obscene squelching sound with them.

“Oh darlin’,” Joel whispers, and he pulls you back into a kiss. He grunts into your mouth with a sharp thrust upward, and the tension boils over. You begin to clench around him. Joel breaks the kiss with a shudder, then he moans your name as you flutter around his cock. His fingers dig into your hips and he pulls you flush, then pulses with a groan. “Ohhhh, fuck—ohhh,” he sighs as he releases a massive load, more than doubling the cum inside you. The rhythm of Joel’s cock soothes you as his load combines with Tommy's.

—--

You stay on Joel’s cock for a few minutes, and he strokes your back, praising you quietly. Tommy falls asleep. Eventually you sigh and whine, "I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Ok, baby,” Joel whispers and begins to help you off his cock.

When you come back, Joel helps you into bed between them. You face Joel and he kisses you good night. You feel thankful for him as you drift off to sleep.

—-

sequel here

Thank you for reading 🖤 I know people want updates on certain Joels but I haven't been having the easiest time and sometimes writing something new is lower-pressure.

Uncle Tommy is a brain worm I've had for a couple months ever since I blurted it out in another series.

I have another recent Joel x reader ft. Tommy with a different set miller bros: leopard print

And a darker Tommy x reader here: birds of prey

-----

FIC RECS

If you like brotherly sharing, a couple of my personal favorites are

I can be your pretty girl part 4, and part 5 by (RIP) walkintotheriveranddisappear who sadly inactivated

Liquid Gold and its prequel Two Hands to Hold by @gasolinerainbowpuddles,

If you like the idea of daddy/uncle, @bonezone44 has Joel, tommy, and Ezra.

More brotherly sharing - Smack My Bitch Up, a raider AU by @milla-frenchy.

If you wanna suck Tommy's big balls, @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin has you covered.

More fic recs (and more to come) on my rec blog @toxicrecs.

Alright I tried to bring my tag list back and something went wrong so I might have to remove them from the post sorry 🥲

#joel miller x reader #tommy miller x reader #joel miller x reader x tommy miller #cw dubcon #tw dubcon #toxicanonymity ☠️#joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #tommy miller smut #uncle!tommy #uncle!tommy miller #daddy!joel miller #uncle tommy #uncle tommy miller

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joelsgreys · 3 months

Text

captive

Raider! Joel Miller x Female Reader

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

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

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS.

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

word count: 1.4k

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

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

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

Loud. Much too loud.

You roll over, settling yourself on your side.

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

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

Everybody else is forced to sleep on the hard floor.

He always gets the room with the bed.

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

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

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

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

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

Sleep doesn’t come.

His absence is starting to bother you.

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

You’re getting used to him.

The sound of his voice.

The warmth of his body.

The taste of his lips.

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

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

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

He had taken everything from you.

Your family.

Your home.

Your innocence.

He was holding you captive. He was a monster.

But a monster doesn’t keep you safe.

Doesn’t clothe you.

Doesn’t feed you.

Doesn’t protect you.

He did all of those things and more.

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

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

You fucking hated him for what he’d done.

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

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

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

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

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

You hear the sound of his pack hitting the floor.

His worn leather boots being kicked off.

His rifle being set down, propped against the wall.

“How was the hunt?”

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

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

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

There’s a swoop in your tummy.

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

He’s got such a handsome face.

Monsters aren’t supposed to have handsome faces.

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

Of course you weren’t.

Joel Miller doesn’t let you go hungry.

When food is scarce, he makes sure you eat first. If he notices you rubbing your tummy because your portion wasn’t enough, he’ll give you his own portion.

He takes care of you.

“No.” You pause and sit up. The sheets you two share fall away from your body, leaving your soft, supple breasts on full display for him. “Just wanted to know how your morning went. That’s all.”

It’s not your tits that make his cock twitch against the zipper of his jeans—it’s the sincerity that flashes across your features, the sound of it in the tone of your voice.

You’re being sweet to him.

He clears his throat lightly.

“Went real good. Brought down a deer. Female, ‘bout a hundred pounds or so. Enough to keep all of us well fed for the next couple of weeks,” he says with a nod. “Was pissin’ rain the entire time but it was worth it. Tommy’s in the shed out back right now dressin’ it so we can get a stew started.” He pauses. “You’re gonna get a proper meal tonight, babygirl. Belly’s gonna be nice and full.”

He’s not just talking about food and you know it.

You make an effort to meet his gaze, but you can’t. You can’t bring yourself to do it, not when you remembered how he’d taken you away from your family—how he had carried you over his shoulder, kicking and screaming as his people raided your camp and slaughtered every last member of your group because that’s what Joel Miller had ordered them to do.

Looking him in the eye might be the one thing you will never, ever be able to do.

“It’s cold,” you murmur after a minute. “You should get out of those wet clothes before you get sick.”

With a subtle nod, Joel turns around and starts peeling off his clothes until he’s completely naked. He uses an old rag to dry himself off as best as he can, although it doesn’t do much for him.

You can’t help yourself and stare—your gaze drags over the strong muscles of his back and shoulders, how they flex and ripple beneath his skin with every single one of his movements. Arousal pools between your thighs and all you can do is fucking hate yourself for wanting it, for wanting him.

“S’pretty early still,” he states, his back still to you as he runs the rag through his hair. “Y’should try to get some more sleep.”

The confession tumbles out of your mouth before you can even think about stopping it.

“I couldn’t sleep while you were gone.”

Surprised, he turns around.

Almost immediately, your eyes fall to his cock.

Even when he isn’t fully hard, he’s still so fucking big.

“Is that so?” Joel asks, sounding rather pleased.

“Yes,” you say, softly. “I—I missed you.”

His lips turn upwards into a subtle, faint grin.

“Yeah?” he coos. “My sweet little girl missed me while I was gone? Hm?” Slowly, he approaches the bed. It dips slightly and the frame creaks as he plants a knee on the mattress and leans over towards you. Gently, Joel takes your chin between his index finger and thumb. “Y’need Daddy by your side so you can sleep, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you whisper, warm tears glazing over your eyes.

It’s bad enough your body welcomed him so easily.

Now your heart was starting to do the same.

And then there was your mind.

What if that stopped fighting him too?

Part of you is afraid it already has.

Joel climbs into bed, joining you under the sheets.

“M’here, my pretty girl. C’mere, honey.” He coaxes you to lay on your side and pulls you back against his chest. His skin is still damp, frigid from having been out in the elements, but somehow he’s still warm. “That better?”

“Need you closer,” you mumble, wiggling against him.

Joel groans, his thick cock hard and throbbing against the small of your back. He nips at your bare shoulder as his hand drags down the length of your body and slips between your thighs. “Christ, babygirl. Pussy’s soakin’ wet for me. Looks like she missed me while I was gone too, didn’t she, sweetheart?”

He runs his finger along your slick, silky folds.

“Daddy,” you whimper, bucking into his hand.

“Don’t worry, honey. Daddy knows what you need.”

Joel pulls his hand from between your legs.

You almost cry—you’re so fucking desperate for him.

And you shouldn’t be.

He reaches in between your bodies, his hand wrapping around the base of his cock. Without warning, he slips it into your tight, aching cunt, sheathing himself in your warm, wet heat in one smooth stroke.

You choke out a sob.

It’s always overwhelming, that initial stretch.

That fullness, the feeling of him being in your belly.

“S’alright, sweetheart. S’alright. I know you can take it,” he soothes you. “You’re such a good girl for me. Always take my cock so fuckin’ well. So good for me, baby. You feel better now that Daddy’s cock is buried inside your pretty little pussy?”

He drapes an arm around you, pulling your back flush against his chest.

“Yes,” you breathe, placing your hand on top of his.

Joel feathers a kiss onto your neck.

“Go to sleep, babygirl. M’here. Ain’t goin’ nowhere,” he promises you.

That shouldn’t be a comfort to you. But it is.

You close your eyes, your fingers subconsciously lacing together with his as you start to drift.

Cunt full of his cock, you fall asleep in your captor’s arms.

divider credit to @saradika🤍

#tw dubcon #tw dubious consent #tw noncon #raider joel #raider! joel #dark!fic #dark! joel miller #dark joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller drabble #joel miller fanfiction #tw daddy kink #dark!joel x reader #fic: captive

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aurorawritestoescape · 2 months

Text

BAD BLOOD pt 4

Pairing: step uncle Joel Miller x f!reader x stepdad Tommy Miller

Tw: +18, mdni, smut, step-cest, dub con (for Tommy), big age gap (reader is 22, Joel and Tommy are in their late and mid-40s), dark!Joel, dark!reader, m/f!oral, mfm, unprotected piv (wrap it up), anal, rough sex, cum eating, degradation kink, praise kink, daddy kink, spanking (light), alcohol consumption, swearing, Tommy can pick up reader.

Summary: you finally get what you want.

Word count: 4.7k

A/n: this is filthy y’all! Enjoy💖 also in the next part it’s gonna go down so stay tuned! As always big thank you and also kisses and hugs to @milla-frenchy for the encouragement and valuable advice!😘❤️

Series Masterlist || MASTERLIST

*****

Tommy can’t believe that it’s happening. It feels like a dream. And he’s had so many about you. His sleeping mind was tortured by the images of you on your knees, your mouth open and ready to welcome his throbbing cock, or splayed on the dinner table, legs open and pussy waiting to be stuffed by him. He used to brush them off, feeling embarrassed and guilty the next morning when you’d say ‘hi’ to him in the kitchen. They subsided when you left for another year of college, only to return with a new force after you came back for the holidays.

He used to tell himself that he’d never do anything about it. He’d never do it to Jess, to you. Your youth should be carefree and not burdened by your middle aged stepfather wanting to fuck you.

But this summer it got so much worse. It seemed like you were testing him, his sanity, his loyalty to his wife, your mother. Everything you wore called for his hungry eyes, your every move, laugh, smile made his cock twitch in his pants. He took too many cold showers. It started to get ridiculous. So he decided to give himself a way out. He jerked off to the thought of you almost every day. He pumped his throbbing member in the bathroom after seeing you in a flowy summer dress. The image of you on the grass with your ass in the air, pussy glistening under the bright summer sun pushed him over the edge and after a few moments of ecstasy he felt sick. With himself, with his dick, with his life.

When Joel asked him ‘that’ question whatever wall he had built in his mind fell apart. The way you talked to him that night at the bar made it impossible to deny it. Impossible to stop it from happening. He needed to fuck you.

***

Tommy was mere minutes from his desire becoming reality. You’re on his lap, straddling him, your naked pussy pressed tightly to his bulge.

“Fuck, angel, you have a knock out ass,” Joel comments driving the three of you home through the dark streets and glancing from time to time at the way you’re grinding against your stepdad’s clothed cock.

“Thank you, uncle Joel,” you purr, parting from Tommy’s neck with a pop. A flash of a streetlight eliminates a darkening hickey on his skin that you’ve left for Jess to find.

Your bra and panties are long gone, stuffed into your purse. Tommy’s hands are kneading your ass cheeks and you pull your neckline down before pushing your naked breasts into his face. He immediately takes your nipple in his mouth and starts sucking and licking, his groans sending vibrations against your sensitive skin.

“Oh, daddy,” you whimper and he thrusts his hips into you making you jump on his crotch.

He lifts his face to you and you meet his gaze, so full of affection and need you wonder where and how he’s been hiding all that.

***

When Joel parks the car at the driveway you get off your stepdad and, after fixing your dress, jump out of the car trying not to flash the neighbors with your pussy. The night covers up his company but Tommy still tries to keep his distance out in the street. Yet as soon as you open the door and walk in he grabs you and spins you to face him. His mouth crashes on yours and he devours you like the tastiest fruit he’s ever had.

Joel enters and comes up to you two placing his big hand on your ass. You part from your stepdad and look at the men, your eyes shiny with excitement.

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” you offer while your head is spinning with possibilities of what they’re going to do to you.

Joel hums and pouts his lips seemingly chill about your invitation but his bulge is the biggest you’ve seen on him and you know that you’re the reason. You smirk and open your mouth, ready to diss him, but instead a gasp leaves your lips when Tommy bends down, presses his shoulder to your middle and lifts you off your feet. You clutch the shirt on his back scared of falling but he’s holding you tight so you start giggling.

“What the fuck? What are you doing?”

“The bed will wait”, he says and slaps your ass and pussy lips which are fully exposed in this position.

You tilt your head up gawking at Joel with wide eyes but he just chuckles following you two,

“Daddy knows best, angel.”

To your surprise Tommy takes you to the dining room. He carefully lowers you and sets you down on the dining table.

“Lie down for me, babygirl,” he mutters and manhandles you on your back along the surface and then stands between your legs, at the head of the table. You turn your head to the side and see Joel leaning against the wall with a smug smile on his face.

You lift yourself up on your elbows and look at Tommy with an eyebrow raised,

“I think a bed would be more comfortable, daddy.”

He places his big hands on your thighs and rubs them up and down making the ache in your core burn brighter. You open your thighs wider and he looks at your pussy exhaling a soft ‘yeah’.

Then he turns back, grabs a chair and sits down. You see his face between your thighs and feel your pussy clench and gush more.

Tommy pulls you closer to him and you place your feet on his thighs. He takes them in his hands and takes your shoes off one and then the other.

“Always wanted to eat your sweet pussy at this table instead of Jess’s dry turkey,” Tommy says as he puts your bare feet on the table, your knees bent and your pussy perfectly on display for him.

You moan, lowering your head back on the surface as your heart is booming in your ears.

“H-how long have you wanted me, Tommy?” you ask, trying to keep your cool but inwardly screaming with joy at his confession.

“Long enough to know exactly what I wanna do to you,” he mumbles and in the next moment you feel his warm lips on your cold wet pussy. You gasp and look up seeing him push his tongue between your folds and start making out with your cunt. You whimper and turn to Joel who’s still leaning against the wall watching your stepdad feast on your pussy nonchalantly like it’s some half decent cable porn. His eyes are dark and you know his cock wants to come out to play judging by his massive bulge but he waits, not wishing to interrupt you two. ‘Fuck,’ you think, ‘He really wants his brother back in Austin’.

You return your eyes to your stepdad whose curly hair is tickling the insides of your thighs now as his tongue circles around your clit and then slides down finding your dripping hole before he starts fucking his hot muscle into you.

You moan loudly with every thrust, your legs trembling and stomach heaving with an upcoming orgasm. You run your fingers through his hair and he growls against your flesh. The vibrations make you arch your back with pleasure as you tilt your head back whimpering,

“Fuck… daddy.”

Suddenly you hear Joel’s voice, gruff and calm, as he walks to the wet bar,

“Want some whiskey with your pussy, Tommy?”

Tommy smiles against your folds and parts from them for a second to reply, “Nah, she’s fucking juicy. Might need a napkin.”

He looks up at you and winks as you smile back at him biting your lip. Then he dives back and starts gently sucking on your clit. You’re about to unravel when you see Joel coming up to the table with a glass of whiskey in one hand and his cock in the other. You curse through your whimpers seeing his huge member pulsating and throbbing, his dark pink head glistening with smeared pre cum. You know you did it to him and pride blooms in your heart.

“Mind if I play with her mouth, ‘daddy’?” Joel asks, making his voice higher to parody you when he says the last word.

Tommy seems to be lost in the process of eating you out and just hums. Joel takes it as a ‘yes’ and after grabbing your shoulders pulls you closer to the end of the table and to his cock.

“Open wide, tongue out,” he commands after taking a sip of the liquor and placing the glass on the table above your head. You watch his cock bob over your face and your mouth waters.

You do what he’s told you - open your mouth and stick your tongue out.

“Good girl,” Joel praises you while Tommy is making out with your cunt. You buck your hips into his mouth looking for an increase of pace but he’s meticulous and slow in pleasuring you.

Suddenly Joel slaps your cheek with his cock leaving a wet precum spot on your skin.

“Focus, angel,” he says as he rubs the tip against your lips. You chase it with your tongue and reach up but he takes your cheeks between his fingers and squeezes with a groan,

“Suck on my balls first, then I’ll see if you deserve my cock, little slut.”

You glare up at him but your anger subsides when Tommy’s fingers enter your wet hole. You feel the ache of a stretch so it must be two or three digits.

“Give some love to your uncle, babygirl,” Tommy says as he’s watching your cunt suck in his thick fingers.

“Yes, daddy,” you mewl and both men sneer at your obedience.

Joel manhandles your head under his cock and after cupping his sack places it in your open mouth. You lick and suck on his balls which are smooth and warm while Joel is stroking himself lazily. With a free hand he tugs down your neckline and starts playing with your breasts, twisting your nipples, kneading your flesh which adds to your pleasure.

You focus on one of his balls, suck and roll it gently with your tongue. You moan and hear Joel’s voice join you. The sound makes your pussy flutter around Tommy’s fingers and when you switch your attention to the other ball, your stepdad pushes on your soft spot a couple of times and ecstasy overtakes every cell of your body. Your cries are muffled by Joel’s balls lying heavy on your tongue.

“Fuck yeah, sweetheart,” Tommy breathes out as you’re clenching his fingers hard and then lowers his face to lick off your cum.

Joel takes his balls away and leans down watching your face twist with ecstasy.

“Just like that, angel. Good little slut.”

Your eyes lock before he leans lower and kisses you plunging his tongue into your mouth. The taste of whiskey and Joel invades all your senses and you answer his kiss hungrily grasping his shoulders.

You part from your step uncle when you hear Tommy’s voice and see him standing next to Joel now.

“Daddy’s turn, babygirl.”

Joel steps away grabbing his glass and emptying it in one go, his cock hard in his hand.

Tommy helps you to sit up on the edge of the table and lifts you up. You kiss him, wrapping your legs around his waist. He smells and tastes like you.

“Let’s take the slut to bed, Tommy,” Joel rasps and you feel his hand engulf the back of your head.

Tommy’s lips leave you and he looks into your eyes,

“Where do you want us to fuck you, sweetheart?”

“Your bedroom, please,” you purr with an innocent smile. You mean their bedroom on their marital bed and when he hears it, his upper lip twitches. For a second fear grips your heart when you think he’s disgusted with you, reminded of his brutal betrayal of his wife.

But in a flash his lips are caressing yours with vigor. His mouth slides to your neck and he harshly sucks in your skin there making you cry out.

“Fuckin’ dirty girl. Wanna be fucked in your mama’s bed, on her favourite sheets,” he growls into your neck and then heads to the stairs holding you in his arms.

***

When you three get into the master bedroom their hands are immediately all over you and you feel too hazy and drunk on endorphins to know who’s taking off your dress, whose lips are sucking hickies into your neck. Soon Tommy and you are sitting naked on the foot of the bed as you’re straddling him. The nightstand lamps are illuminating your bodies with dim and soft light. He’s kissing you gently as his cock nests between your bodies and you’re slowly grinding your soaked pussy against it.

Suddenly you feel a big hand wrap around the base of your throat and move up to your jaw applying pressure and tilting your head up. You don’t fight it and look up seeing Joel’s face hovering over yours.

“Are you gonna be good for us, baby?” He asks, staring into your eyes.

He doesn’t wait for an answer, but takes your chin between his fingers and opens your mouth. You widen your eyes in confusion until he leans down and spits in your mouth. You moan as the warm liquid slides down your tongue and into your throat and you swallow it. Joel hums approvingly and bends down to kiss you. It’s more gentle than the first time. Joel’s lips muffle your whimper when Tommy takes your breast in his mouth and swirls his tongue around your nipple. You cry out when he nips at the bud and part from Joel.

“Don’t be jealous, daddy,” you whine looking at your stepdad whose fingers are digging into your hips.

Joel sits on the bed next to Tommy, also naked and your eyes dart between the brothers.

They’re both gorgeous - wide shoulders, broad chests, golden skin. Tommy is thinner than Joel and his cock is not as big but their members are longer than anything you’ve taken so far. A little part of you is worried but you’ve wanted it for so long and you’re fully ready to be ruined by them.

“Daddy, uncle, please fuck me,” you plead pouting your lips.

“Her pussy is mine,” Tommy says as his fiery eyes land on Joel and then you.

“I can fuck her ass, no problem. For me. But it can be a big one for her,” he smirks and slaps your ass cheek. “Is your ass ready for uncle Joel’s visit?”

You can’t wait to be fucked so you silently get off Tommy’s lap, kneel on the bed between the men and lay down between them, sticking your ass up in the air.

“I’m not sure. Can you check?” You purr wiggling your butt and you hear Joel groan while Tommy curses.

You rest your cheek on your hand bringing the other to your ass and pull on the flesh showing off your holes to the men.

“Good little whore,” Joel praises you rubbing your ass cheek, “Do you think she’s ever taken it up her ass?”

“For her own good I hope she has, or you’ll rip her apart,” Tommy replies and the brothers laugh as your core tightens from hearing them talk about you as if you’re not in the room.

“Aw, angel, look at your pussy winking at us. Fear turns you on, huh? Good to know…dirty slut.”

You feel him spit on your tight hole and then he pushes the tip of his finger into you. You clench around it with a mewl and he slaps your ass not too hard but enough to leave a mark, “Relax, baby, need to get this ass ready.”

He tries again and inserts his digit up to the top knuckle.

While Joel is opening your asshole up like a Christmas present, Tommy climbs up the bed and rests his back against the headboard. He positions you so you’re between his legs. His cock is in his hand right in front of your face and you don’t hesitate to lift yourself on your elbows and lick a wet stripe along the underside of his length. His soft salty skin makes you salivate and you take his tip in your drooling mouth sucking on it and licking the slit. You moan swallowing his precum while Joel pushes his finger to the last knuckle and begins stretching you for his cock.

“Love the taste, sweetheart?” Tommy mumbles, closing his eyes for a second and bucking his hips up to get deeper into your hot mouth.

You start bobbing your head up and down while your hand is jerking your stepdad’s shaft as your eyes flutter shut with pleasure. Tommy's cock in your mouth feels like it belongs there and you give all of yourself blowing him until he holds your head between his hands stopping you.

“Hey, hey, babygirl, you’ll make me come like that… wanna fill up your pussy.”

You take his cock out of your mouth begrudgingly and rest your head on his inner thigh still gripping his cock.

“If you don’t fuck me soon, daddy, I’ll lick your balls and make you come all over your stomach,” you purr with a naughty smile but cold eyes, getting impatient. Tommy looks up at the ceiling, mumbling curses under his breath.

“Is she ready?” He asks Joel with a shaky voice and you hear his older brother hum as his finger leaves your asshole. You feel looser and miss Joel stuffing your tight ring.

“Get on the side, you two. I ain’t kneeling,” he roars.

Tommy manhandles you on his lap and scoots up to the edge of the bed holding you close. Joel stands behind your back.

“Maybe we can get you a cuck chair, old man?” You giggle getting comfortable straddling Tommy when suddenly Joel grabs your throat and pulls you up on your knees, your back pressed tightly to his chest.

His lips brush the shell of your ear as he hisses leaning down, “I’m about to fuck your ass, stupid slut, getting on my nerves ain’t the best idea.”

“Joel,” Tommy's voice is worried, “she’s kidding.”

To reassure your stepdad you moan and snake your hand around Joel’s neck grabbing his hair and pulling him closer.

“Don’t worry, daddy, uncle Joel and I are just playing.”

Joel growls and pushes you on Tommy’s chest.

“Plug her sloppy hole, brother, then I’ll wreck her ass. Got lube?”

Tommy nods his head at the nightstand.

You hear Joel shuffle stuff around in the drawer and then he jiggles a lube bottle in front of your face.

“Half empty, angel, your mom’s either as dry as her turkey or she loves it up her butt,” he chuckles.

“I fucking hate you,” you grunt through gritted teeth as jealousy burns your insides.

Tommy kisses the corner of your mouth trying to calm you down and then grabs your hip with one hand to guide you while the other holds his weeping cock at your wet hole.

You immediately pierce yourself on his member in one swift move moaning together with him. You feel full to the brim as your folds part for his girth and your walls snugly envelope his hardness.

“Holy fuck, babygirl, you’re tight”, he breathes out.

“My pussy is just for you, Tommy,” you whisper in his ear, tilting your hips and pushing your ass out hoping Joel will get the hint.

The older brother accepts your invitation right away and drops a generous amount of lube on the spot just above your asshole. You flinch feeling the cold liquid slide down to your tight ring and then your pussy stretched around Tommy’s cock.

Joel’s hand grips your shoulder for leverage while his fat lubed up tip presses to your asshole. The nerves churn in your stomach and your nails dig into your stepdad’s shoulders as you breathe deeply trying to calm down and relax your muscles.

Joel pushes the head into you making you half gasp-half moan as he stretches you. It aches just a bit as you’ve been wearing a butt plug in preparation for the night but you furrow your brows and open your mouth acting like an anal virgin for your unaware stepdad. ‘You’re his innocent stepdaughter’ after all.

“Daddy, he’s so big,” you whine, biting your lip and looking into his eyes.

“‘s right, angel,” Joel smirks behind you.

“Wanna stop?” Tommy asks, his voice concerned but you shake your head. No way you want to stop this!

“No, just hold me, please,” you plead and Tommy hugs you tightly, his arms over yours as you nuzzle the crease of his neck.

In this position, resting on your stepdad’s chest, your ass is sticking out perfectly for Joel who pushes his slicked hardness into you slowly while Tommy is rubbing your back whispering ‘good girl’s into your hair.

You mewl when Joel bottoms out with a growl hitting your pussy with his heavy balls.

Being completely full with the brothers’ cocks you whimper loudly when you sit up a little and feel them move inside you.

“Oh fuck, you’re both so big.”

“Move babygirl, you’ll get used to it.”

You hear Tommy’s words and grind your hips back and forth and all three of you moan in unison.

“Fuck, angel. Unclench your ass, you gonna make me cum too soon.” Joel groans and you take a deep breath trying to subside your excitement.

“Please move,” you mewl breathing deeply and they start slowly fucking you.

You’d never tell him but you’re grateful to Joel for going at it at a slow pace as your plug had nothing on the man’s girth and you feel the dull pain of the stretch as he’s pushing his cock in and out.

Tommy notices your pained expression and cups your cheek before giving you a passionate kiss. His cock twitches inside you as he’s thrusting up into your pussy with deep and slow strokes.

“You’re doing so good for us, babygirl,” he whispers as your lips brush. His hand kneads your breast, thumb and forefinger twitch your nipple as the other slithers down to your mound. He finds your hardened clit and starts rubbing it with two fingers.

Joel is panting and huffing behind you fucking your tight ass. He takes a hold of your throat and squeezes getting your attention.

“Imma fuck you hard now, slut. Ready or not.”

Tommy starts objecting but you want nothing more right now than to be ruined by their cocks.

“Yes, uncle Joel…Fuck me... Daddy please… my holes are yours.”

Joel immediately increases the pace at which his hips slap against your ass pushing his member into your asshole.

Tommy whines at your words and braces his hand on the bed before he starts power fucking your dripping cunt.

Your brain completely shuts down as your holes are being wrecked by your step uncle and stepdad. Your nails scratch Tommy’s shoulders as your core tightens, pussy and asshole clench around their fat cocks and your eyes roll back as your orgasm approaches fast.

“I told you this slut wanted it, huh?! Her holes were made for our dicks, brother. Look at her cock dumb face!” You hear Joel’s triumphant speech and see him slap Tommy’s shoulder. “Proud of you brother. You took what you wanted!”

Your stepdad smiles and looks at you with dark eyes. Joel leans over your shoulder, grabs your chin and turns your head to face him.

“You’re our fuck toy now, got it, angel? We gonna fill you up so good your belly will bloat. And we’ll do it again cos it’s all you’re good for… being fucked and suck our dicks and balls,” he growls as they’re pushing their cocks in and out. “Say it, “I’m your fuck toy, uncle” he commands shaking your head.

“I’m your fuck toy, uncle,” you repeat obediently as your eyes well up with tears. You’re moved by the immense pleasure coursing through your veins and your climax hits as you cry and moan squeezing their cocks. Tommy grabs a hold of your shaking body as you squirt and drown his member. Squelching sounds fill the room and the extra wetness sends Tommy over the edge as he shoots his cum deep into your womb.

Joel is still holding your jaw, then he curses and crashes his mouth on yours. His kiss is brutal, dominant and overwhelming, plush lips abusing yours, tongue licking into your mouth.

It takes a few strokes before he begins filling your ass with his warm seed. He parts from you moaning and your heart sings hearing them both omitting the sounds of pleasure because of you.

When they stop moving inside your body, you fall on Tommy’s chest and he holds you through the aftershocks, still buried deep inside your pussy.

Joel pulls his cock out and slaps your ass before plopping across the bed next to Tommy and you.

Tommy kisses your cheek panting and falls on his back next to Joel.

They’re looking up at you, eyes roaming your body, glistening with sweat, and smiling, Tommy with affection and Joel with his usual wolfish grin.

You must look spent and fucked out and your stepdad tells you to lay down. You get on the bed placing your head on the pillow and Tommy goes to the bathroom for a wet towel.

Joel turns on his side bracing his head on his hand, semi hard cock resting on his thigh, and watches you for a few moments before speaking,

“Show me.”

“What?”

“How good we filled your holes”.

You smirk at him and bend your legs pressing the knees to your chest. Joel scoots up closer to you and glides his middle finger against your asshole and up to your entrance and then clit making you flinch at the overstimulation.

“Squeeze it out,” he commands, opening your thighs wider.

Tommy comes back just in time to see your pussy contract and push out his cum and his cock twitches. It slides down to your asshole as Joel’s spend trickles out as well. Joel mixes the liquids with his thumb and then sits up to feed them to you. Tommy gets on the bed and watches you lick Joel’s finger clean off their warm cum.

When you’re done Tommy gently cleans you up with the wet towel while Joel gets up to light a cigarette and then lies down next to you smoking.

Tommy throws the towel away and joins you two. He turns your head and you make out for some time while Joel’s filling the room with smoke. You know Jess is going to be livid and smile internally.

Tommy parts from you and looks into your eyes, “delete the recording, babygirl, you don’t need it. This pussy is mine now”, he whispers against your lips as his hand cups your heated center. “We’ll make it work.”

You swallow loudly and look at Joel who’s watching you two like a hawk. His eyes are cold and intent. He shifts his jaw, then takes a drag of his cigarette and exhales the smoke in your face.

You turn away feeling your eyes sting and look up at the ceiling.

What the fuck are you going to do now?

*****

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macfrog · 2 months

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psyche and cupid | one shot

happy valentine's, beautiful people. i love you with all of my heart. xx shoutout to @familyvideostevie for putting joel's slutty little thigh holster into my head and, well. yeah. pairing: jackson!joel miller x fem!reader summary: valentine's day with joel doesn't go to plan. warnings: part two never happened!!!!! abby who!!!, established relationship, cursing, half joel pov, unspecified age gap, hints to reader having a sliver of ptsd, jesse is alive and well because he is my prince and i said so, reader has dark pubic hair, masturbation, somnophilia (not discussed in this fic but she is a-ok with it) and therefore dubcon, sprinkle of praise kink, oral (f!receiving), someone comes in his underwear, these two goofballs are big in love word count: 5.5k

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It’s not in his nightstand.

Not hung over the newel post, either.

He said he left it on the kitchen counter yesterday, right after he got home; said he woke up this morning and it was gone. And then he muttered something of an accusation that someone had tidied it away and forgotten where, and that started a whole new argument.

You know what, Joel? You’re following his tall figure as it sways down the hallway, his strides longer and considerably smoother than your flurrying shadow in his wake. Maybe if you weren’t going out today, we wouldn’t be having this problem.

His chin tilts upward, salt and pepper scruff angled to the ceiling with a ha slung from his throat. Yeah, he tosses a glance over his shoulder, we’d just be havin’ it tomorrow, instead.

You scoff in response, stepping where his boots lift off from, following the heavy thud thud thud like a cat at his heels until he’s rounding the corner towards your bedroom.

You pass over the messy trail of your jeans and Joel’s pajama bottoms, your underwear and his leading in a trail to the unmade bed – sheets like a rippled wave painted golden by the dawn.

The two of you split off – Joel lifts the cotton and watches it float back down over the flat of your mattress. Nothing.

You take the closet – the squeal of metal on metal harsh in your sleepy ears as you shove the hanging clothes aside, swiping around at the floor. Also, unsurprisingly, nothing.

Deflated, you straighten, stars peppering your vision and a tatty sleepshirt pinched in your fingers. Led Zeppelin – some band Joel was into before everything went to shit. You’ve listened to him out on the porch before, plucking strings in time with the record wobbling on the turntable inside.

The collar torn, sleeves pecked with holes, print lost to the years and the dryer – but each time you drape it over your shoulders, he smiles and hums some song from a world you’ll never know.

It’s sweet, when you’re in the mood to be wooed.

Which, incidentally, is not right fucking now.

His eyes flit down to the peeling, grayscale image – and that same smile attempts to bloom on his lips. That’s cute, but it ain’t my holster, pretty bird.

His smirk dampens quickly when he looks back up, snuffed by your stony expression.

You whip the tee down to the foot of the bed. You are a piece of fuckin’ work sometimes, do you know that? you growl, storming by him for the en suite.

Joel’s rough hand slips around your wrist, tugging gently but letting you drag him through to the bathroom.

Just go, Joel, you groan, the chill of the room prickling goosebumps on your naked legs. Give me some peace and quiet. ‘s not like I’m gonna be seein’ much of you today, anyways.

Is that what this is about? His voice echoes in the morning blue, round in your ears as you hang your head over the sink. Pickin’ a fight ‘cause you’re pissed I’m goin’ out?

I didn’t start the fight, you protest. You’re the one who lost his holster.

Didn’t lose it… he mumbles, lips closing around the sentence when he catches your glare in the mirror. He crosses one ankle over the other, toe of his dusty boot on the cracked tile, and sighs. What do you want me to do, baby? I gotta do my job.

On Valentine’s Day? When I worked extra to get it off, and you can’t even get your brother to swap one shift?

Joel’s expression seems to stiffen, tense with a realization that you know, and now he knows, too – he should’ve had days ago. A weighty breath falls from his nostrils, admitting some kind of defeat, and then he’s wandering carefully over to you, two hands curved over your shoulders.

He lowers his forehead onto the nape of your neck, a slow breath which flutters the loose collar of the flannel you’re wearing and sweeps down your spine. I’m sorry, pretty bird. I didn’t know it meant that much to ya.

It doesn’t, you admit, adding, usually. I just thought we could have a day to ourselves, for once.

He’s nodding, sweep of his fringe tickling the slope of your skin. It’d be a lot more romantic than spendin’ it with Jesse, that’s for sure.

Your bodies fall together with a shared laugh, a bright and charming thing in the dull bathroom light. Joel kisses the soft cushion of your shoulder and hooks his chin over, beard grazing your skin.

I’ll be back before you know it. ‘n then we can do whatever the hell you got planned for us, hm?

He’s steady behind you when you lean back, turning to place a damp kiss to the hinge of his jaw. A reply, a plea – a promise.

In the echoing dripdripdrip from the faucet, Joel pulls apart from you, two fingers pinching the hem of your shirt to pull you back into the bedroom.

You wanna walk me to the gate? he asks, pulling the zipper on his jacket.

What about your holster?

He smiles. I’m sure I’ll survive without it. C’mon. Put some pants on.

February is bitter even by Jackson’s standards – a bite of ice in the air which numbs the tip of your nose and stings the helix of your ears. The chill slips a long, sharp finger down the collar of your – Joel’s jacket, and you wrap the baggy canvas tighter around yourself.

Told you to wear som’ thicker. Joel sighs, grip light around the strap of his shotgun. His elbow nudges into yours, a wide arm wraps around your shoulder and draws you flush against his side. Head on back if you’re cold, he says, rubbing until the friction warms your upper arm.

I’m fine, you lie, eyeing the line of horses up ahead. The eager crunch of their hooves in the frozen ground, the pinkish light on their backs from the sky flooded crimson overhead – a warning from the horizon, you think.

It seems to agitate the animals as much as it does you, their heavy heads tossing nervously, ears flicking and inky eyes blinking.

Jesse meets you by the paddock, slipping Joel the reins of his horse with a curt nod, before hoisting himself atop his own.

It bleats from your lips before you can hold it back. Be careful.

Your frozen fingers claw around the zipper of his coat, tugging it upwards until it brushes against his bottom lip. The weather gets bad, you turn back. Okay?

He’s nodding, paying half his attention to your words, the other half to the little crease between your brows. Sure could use my holster against the cold, baby, he mutters, smirk lifting his cheeks and folding similar creases at the corners of his eyes.

Your eyes narrow, palms landing flat against his strong chest. Home soon?

He hums a little laugh, lips ghosting across your temple as he shifts by. Home soon, he mutters, breath steaming against your cold skin, and he leads the mare off towards the gate.

There’s a lot about Joel you admire.

Each part of him like a pebble stolen on a hike; some more jagged, a little more weathered than others, some well-rounded and smooth to the touch. Each one turned and turned and turned between your fingers until you’re fluent in every pore and vein, then dropped into your pocket alongside the others you’ve collected.

Clacking against one another until you arrive home, coat heavier with the happy burden of how much you love him. The same weight you feel behind your ribcage when you think too much about it.

He takes good care of you – has done since you first happened across one another. As if hanging his hunting jacket over your frail body was a wing over your shoulders; as if, from then on, you would never make a single move again without your grizzly bear of a man making it first.

Quiet about it, sure. Subtle. Opens the crook of his elbow for you to hook your wrist around as you wander through town together, and waits until you’re under the cover of nightfall or behind the close of your front door to do much else.

Asks with little more than a fleeting glance if you’re okay; a squeeze of your knee under the table in the dining hall. A conversation shared between closed lips and the meeting of his honey-flecked gaze, and yours. A language which lives and dies with the pair of you.

He’s guarded – and for all that he’s been through, you figure you can allow him that. Allow him his private peace. For all that he says without saying, all he does without making some big song and dance of it – there hasn’t been a second since you arrived here on the back of his horse, that you haven’t known he loves you.

It’s in him like it’s in you. A fever which broke at the first touch of his hand and yours, the first meeting of his warmth and your chill. Two opposites – cooling the painful sear in his heart, warming the barren frost in yours. Something sewn deep into your flesh, carved right through to the hollow of your bones.

And Jesus, if it doesn’t drive you fucking insane.

The front yard needs tidied up after winter, you notice, as you scuff your way up the path towards the porch. Once the last of the snow dries up, you two can get to repairing the damage done by the blizzards and the gales: fitting new shutters, planting new bulbs.

A cycle you’re still getting used to: the upkeep of a place called home. The strange feeling of having someone you call the same thing.

Your extra shifts at the stables and Joel’s long mornings out on the trails mean your home has gone neglected for a few days. Dishes and cutlery left in the sink, a pile of laundry slowly sprouting to new heights like a wild plant each time you cast a wary glance at it.

It’s not like you’ve much else to do, given Joel won’t be home for at least another couple hours. So you shuck off your jeans, letting the tail of his shirt dangle from your behind, and pick your way around each room – wiping counters and dusting corners, humming along to the crooning old records as they spin in the background.

Playing house at the end of the world. Pretending to listen for the tired exhale of a yellow school bus, mimicking the electrified babble of radio presenters between each track.

The bedroom is arguably the worst offender. Bedsheets used a few days too long, clothes strung across the floor – the relics of a late one at the Tipsy Bison. It’s no wonder you’re so fucking tired.

Echoes of stumbling footsteps and hushed, drunken giggles loop your ears, the groaning bedsprings and blunt thud of the headboard. You pluck the underwear and socks one by one, your body wincing around a satisfied ache still lingering, and shuffle over to the laundry hamper, lifting the lid to –

The dopey smile on your lips dissolves instantly. You gotta be fucking…

The buckle glints in the light, silver blinking up at you from its bed of dirty laundry. The tan strap coiled and neatly slung through its fastener; the pouch empty. Awkward and ashamed, lying there in front of you. Apologetic, almost.

Your eyes roll closed; a short, hot breath seeping past your lips. A silent promise embedding beneath your tongue to take him by the sleeve as soon as he crosses the threshold, force him to lift the lid himself. An I told you so already brewing in the pit of your stomach.

The holster’s actually pretty heavy when you lift it up in the light. Leather a little worn, stitching frayed where it should clip around his belt.

It’s the size and width of him: a thick, toned thigh slotted inside the loop of leather, fixed by fingers long void of feeling when he’s been riding to the outpost, chasing infected, plunging his knife deep into their necks.

Patrol was never your thing. Joel took you out just once – but there are cracks in your past which threaten to split you in two, it seems, the longer you spend outside the settlement walls. Phantoms which follow close behind in the form of snapping twigs, of the wind rustling in the trees overhead. Shadows living in your periphery with curled sneers and spits of filth.

You lasted twenty minutes, that first and only day, before Joel had your horses tied together and your body shelled in his own, taking you straight back home.

But the thought of this around his thigh, the thought of him adjusting it to the waistband of his jeans; his hand floating down to settle gently atop it when he’s listening for danger approaching, two fingers slipping into the trigger guard.

It…stirs something.

You pad over to the bathroom, hopping as you step into the strap. He wears it on his right leg, right? You pull it past your ankle, ball of your foot slamming clumsily back down on the tile.

Adjusting it to fit your thigh, you bunch the hem of his shirt in one fist and stare back at your reflection. Her nervous stance, hips swaying left to right as she peruses the figure opposite.

Who is she, this mirage – naked thigh decorated with her man’s leather, fingernails tracing the messy stitching and imagining the weight of his gun, keen in the pouch?

A strange aura of possession about it, like a part of him locked firm around a part of you, from however many miles away. You swear you can feel the ghost of his warmth on the inside of the strap, wrapped around your sensitive skin.

Yeah.

Stirs something, alright.

Joel’s been gone little over an hour. He’s probably at the outpost by now, logging All clear and pretending to let Jesse take the lead. Wide shoulders swaying as he wanders from room to room, a careful scope of the valley from each window, tongue tracing the bottom of his teeth.

Ridges of his knuckles white around the grip of his shotgun, squinting down the barrel. Lines drawn between his brows and at the corners of his eyes like scores on parchment, focus and concentration tight on his face.

You sink back into the cradle of your bed, that divot where his body and yours meet each night. Each part of you intertwining with a part of him: the place where you become one. His smell and your touch, your giggle and his teeth.

A sudden, powerful thing which hammers through your veins and jumps your body for a few seconds – you pull the first orgasm from between your legs within a matter of minutes. The sight of his shirt disturbed over your stomach, the feeling of blood squeezing past taut leather enough to throw you under by itself, never mind the fast snap of your fingers deep inside your body.

Another – slower, lazier, still vibrating from the first – then almost a third, but the crinkle of sheets at your ears, the pillow-soft landscape beneath your heavy body, begins to sweep you off somewhere.

And in as little time as it took to entice you into the water in the first place, you slip beneath the waves.

The house is quiet when he finally makes it home.

Jesus, Joel thinks, what a shift.

Not one infected the entire run, he can’t quite believe – but Jesse caught his palm on some warped sheet of chain link fence, then almost passed out when he looked down and saw the scarlet seeping from his shredded skin.

The pair sat for half an hour, unsheltered in the unforgiving wind, waiting for the kid’s head to stop spinning and the cold to rob the feeling from his hand.

All Joel wanted was to get home to you. You, and your hips swaying as you stand by the stove, and his hands kneading into the velvet plush of your waist, and the smell of burnt sausages and spatter of angry oil from the pan.

He’s so late. He said he’d be as quick as he could, said you’d barely know he was gone, and he’s so fucking late.

But he’s here now, at least.

He’s home.

As he kicks off his boots, snow sprinkling from the soles onto the doormat, he notices the absence of your arms around his waist. The missing weight at the back of him, no ear flat against his spine and hands interlocked above his belt. No relieved, I missed you, no nuzzle of your head under his arm.

The house is still and dim. The turntable spins in the corner, a dead crackle playing nothing for no one. Joel sniffs, eyeing the room and its new, orderly form: the books slotted neatly on their shelves, the rings of coffee wiped clean from the table.

Lifting the needle from the record, Joel calls out, Baby?

Maybe you’re in town somewhere. Maybe you’ve gone to spend the morning with the horses. But then, you would’ve been watching for his arrival. Would’ve skipped out from the stables and swung around his body, a gleeful smile and an outstretched hand. Take me home, cowboy.

And you wouldn’t have left the lights still burning, the player still turning. Your coat is still on its hook, smaller and brighter and where it belongs on the right of Joel’s. The cushions on the couch are fluffed and smooth, perched contentedly in place; the curtains draped in their tie backs.

You’re home. You’ve been home all morning.

So where the fuck are you?

Joel crosses over to the bottom of the stairs, blinking up at the painted cowboys and horses staring down from the landing. Calls your name, a faint singsong as he slowly ascends the stairs. You up there?

Down the wintery dull hallway to the bedroom door, figuring he knows the answer. And he’s right, isn’t he, when he nudges the door open and peers inside, spots the tiny lump of you in your double bed. Sunk deep into the mattress – covers you’d come in here to change, swallowing you whole.

A crooked, exhausted smile pulls across his lips; his thumb hooks around a belt loop, knee cocking.

You’re so…perfect. So heavenly, so still like this – stretched out on your front, breathing in the scent of his pillow and breathing out little puffs of air.

Joel leans over you, a heavy hand pushing into the mattress above your shoulder, and runs a featherlight knuckle over your cheek.

Pretty bird? he whispers, lighter than the long breaths from your sleep-swollen lips.

You don’t stir. No movement, save for the rise and fall of your shoulders wrapped up in his flannel.

Joel feels a pang of guilt, numbed only by the chill still through his body: he woke you this morning, before even the sun had lifted her head. Had you hunting all over the house with him, for some dumb holster that he wound up not even n–

His eyes trail down the shape of your body, draped in the sheets like white marble carved into the round shape of something beautiful, hands following the curve of your thigh. His wrist freezes when it meets the odd bulge of something, an awkward bump beneath the cotton.

He peels the sheet back, lifting it from your shoulders, your waist, your hips – until your angled thigh lies on full display for his feasting eyes.

His fucking holster…wrapped tight around your fucking thigh.

A disbelieving laugh at first – a She told me so, before he notices the indents in your skin, the stretched leather snug around your leg, riding higher than it should at the doing of your slumber.

Christ, baby, he breathes, stare glued to the folds of plaid hooked around the belt loop. Following the tatty hem down past your hip, along the underside of your ass – riding up some, right where your legs part.

And between them, all sheer and thin, twisted around itself and slipping between: your underwear. The threading of pubic hair peeking over the frilled hem of it; the sight filling Joel’s mouth with saliva.

A heavy heat forms in his jeans, an irritable weight which aches when he moves; which hardens when he pictures the image of you in his bed, his shirt, his holster wrapped around your thigh – playing with yourself while he’s been gone.

Fuck. Fuckin’…shit.

He lowers, running lips he knows are freezing cold along the burning surface of your skin, tongue slipping past his teeth to drag a wet trail along your thigh.

Your leg shifts under his touch, the startle of his chilled fingertips behind your knee, nuzzling of his nose where the holster sits smugly on your thigh. Smelling like leather and salt, the sticky sheen of sweat still glowing on your skin.

Joel takes your waist in two hands – he can’t fucking help himself, can he? – and turns you, patiently, watching as you roll onto your back so he can drag you further down the bed. Tongue flicking at the corners of his lips, thirsty for something he only wants you to feed him.

Slow, slowly. Every effort put into not waking you, to keeping you in this peachy haze between asleep and awake; your movements long and staggered, held firm against the mattress by the weight of your doze.

With a sigh, your jaw turns to one side. Joel pulls you in, kneeling at the edge of the bed with your socked feet resting on his shoulders. His shirt gathers around your waist; your hips and the thin twine of your underwear spotlighted by stripes of weakened sunlight spilling in through the blinds.

Oh, pretty bird, he groans, slipping his open palms under your ass, rough and squeezing the pillows of flesh in his hands. This all for me?

A moan wrapped in a hefty breath twists from your lips. Your knees fall limp; legs open almost eagerly, like your body inviting him in. And he accepts, takes it with eyes blown black and hungry lips parted – leans in and nestles his nose against the thrumming heartbeat pounding through your clit.

Such a good girl, he whispers, closing his lips in a kiss over your clothed mound, and your hips jolt.

You’re so fucking warm. So wet; sticky and so ready for him. He kisses your folds, suckling gently and letting his tongue dart along the inseam of your lips in flicking movements – collecting the taste of salt and feeling his cock throb against rough denim.

Off? he asks – you and the room and himself – fingers hooking around the underwear rolled on your hips.

When your back arches, body feeling the loss of his tender kiss, rolling like a wave seeking to crash against the steady rock form of his – he smirks to himself.

Joel nods. Off.

He takes his time peeling them from your body, watching as more and more of his paradise is revealed. The waves of your folds, the sheer glisten of arousal along them; the dark hair peppering either side as damp and slick as the skin beneath it.

Your panties drop from a hooked finger without a sound and he turns back, hovering over your waiting cunt with wide eyes and a slack jaw. Out front, voices call back and forth to one another – some neighborly greeting and affable conversation – but Joel doesn’t hear. Deafened to anything but the sound of your sighs and his own blood hammering through his ears.

It’s a little rushed, a tad rough, the way he presses his lips back to yours. The way his beard grazes against your most sensitive spot, and the gasp he swears he hears lift from your tongue.

But fuck, he’s missed this, the way he always does – without knowing, without actively thinking about it, without knowing it was even at home waiting for him. If his mind weren’t on an entirely different planet right now, he’d curse that goddamn chain link for holding him up, for keeping him away longer than thirty seconds from the sweet little angel resting in his bed, and the sweet little pussy between her legs.

He parts your thighs wider, tongue dipping lower and deeper as he laps at your core, almost fucking panting against it.

You squirm lazily beneath him, shoulders tensing and untensing, a half-limp wrist lifting to pet his hair and an attempt at his name between your lips. Joel, you whimper, thick with sleep and something more dangerous.

I know, baby, he’s telling you, I know, and his tongue slips inside again. His hips grind into the mattress, cock an agonizing stiff against the sturdy edge. He can feel the wet in his boxers, the precome sticking to the inside of the cotton.

Fuck, he wants to be inside you so badly, so desperately.

Another gasp sputters across your lips, cut short in your throat when his teeth bump against your clit.

Too hungry, too brash, he thinks. You’re too soft, too open for him to let it go to waste. Not like this.

He pulls back, a filthy thread of arousal and saliva between his open lips and yours, and places a sodden kiss to the inside of your thigh.

But you whine, you poor little thing – your head twisting to the other side, a second hand now blindly surfing across his shoulder, past the brush of his beard and sifting through his still-chilly hair. The loss of attention to your pussy aching between your legs; your hips lifting weakly to meet the scratch of his chin again.

And that same sound – that same Jo-oel – a sound like song, like saccharine dripping over his shoulders.

So, he lifts a hand – two middle fingers coming together to push open your cunt, instantly sliding in knuckle-deep. Sucked in by the wet mess left behind by his lips, stretching you out with slow, round movements.

You’re slowly stirring, blossoming from your sleep and turning slowly back into this world. The cold edges seeping in, the warm flush of pleasure sharpening at their meeting. He’d do anything, he thinks, to keep you here; keep you teetering on the edge, tangled up between your world and his.

J– oh, fu-uck, you whine, and he can tell you’re still blinkered by sleep. But you grind on him again – a long, languid movement which seems to spatter out at its end when the coarse hair of his beard catches against your clit.

The breath stops in your throat, punching out in a shuddered moan. Joel could come just from the sound of it.

You gonna give me one, baby girl? he pleads, forearms clamping down on the underside of your thighs. Desperate – desperate to feel you, hear you, taste you as you come undone. Just one.

You’re writhing around beneath him, as needy as he is. A winding which matches his, coiling at the bottom of your stomach; a feeling which pulls at the corners of your lips and shocks them into a smutty, half-conscious smile. Your eyes roll back, fluttering open and then snapping shut when the light floods in.

There, you say, clearest so far, movements the strongest he’s felt. Your fingers root in his hair, rough over his scalp. Keep – keep doin’ that.

Joel smiles against your mound; a cocky thing, emboldened by the sound of that little Texan twang, the curl of an accent which doesn’t belong to you. Rather, a result of your years spent with him, watching the way his mouth shapes the words, learning the low swing and swirling melody of his tongue.

As if he’s as alive within you as he is within himself; every little thing Joel knows is him, injected into your bloodstream – his dry wit, his blunt honesty, his thick fingers and his insatiable tongue.

He slips in a third, flicking them perfectly inside of you. Beckoning your release; tongue sitting in wait, a resting point for you to grind your clit against.

And he wants it as much as you do: wants to feel the clamping of your body around him, wants to taste the flood of your orgasm as it shocks through every bone in your body.

Wants to pull three soaked, pruned fingers from your pussy and slip them over your tongue, letting you clasp your fingers around his wrist; watching the half-dozing flutter of your eyelashes as you suckle on them and make those pretty little sounds for him.

Your hand knots tighter in his hair, pelvis circling steady against his suckling lips. He can smell it on you: smell the need seeping from your pores. The sleep spilling from the corners of your mouth, the happy whimpers and quiet cries for more, more, Joel, more.

And – Shit, he breathes against you, feeling a sudden rush of electricity he knows all too well between his hips. Not now, not now not before he’s been inside – Shit, baby, gotta let me go.

You whine in refusal – a petulant sound, all stubborn and greedy. ‘m so close, I –

Pretty bird, he groans, lifting his jaw. He places a messy kiss to the crease between your core and your thigh, wrist stammering with his sudden movements. You gotta – you gotta let go, you’re gonna make me come –

You’re echoing him, mumbling the words gonna, gonna come – fuck, Joel, ‘m gonna –

Shit.

Not – Fuck – not right n– Christ, baby girl, you’re gonna – you’re –

Your walls spasm, clamping and relaxing, squeezing around his huge fingers. But it’s not that – it’s not the gush of warm fluid which seeps from between your legs, coating his knuckles and dripping into his palm.

It’s not the arch of your back, the way your breasts lift to the ceiling and his shirt slips below one nipple. Not the way your head rolls back against the mattress, a broken moan tearing in shards from your throat.

No.

It’s the way your hands leave his hair in an instant, and grip around the leather on your thigh. Skin stretching thin over your knuckles, thumbs between the strap and your sticky skin; hips still riding out your high as you ground yourself, holding onto his holster.

And it makes Joel come. Hard.

Harder than he knew possible, grinding against a mattress and the inside of his fucking jeans.

He falls forward, breathing a guttural moan into the soft swell of your stomach below your navel, fingers hooking into the baggy shirt around your arms.

Shitshitshit, he pants, feeling the warm ejaculate spurt from his cock and all over the inside of his boxers. Oh, fuck, baby. Fuck me.

His hips shudder a few more times, pressing hard into the edge of the mattress before he’s coming down, slowing to a stop – still a leaden weight on your stomach. His cock almost painful, overstimulated and oversensitive.

But then – something gently tittering. A bird singing, cooing above his head. The ground beneath his temple shakes, tremors with laughter. The dust twinkles in the sunlight, now brighter, golden, streaming through the window.

You’re awake.

Joel drags his gaze upwards, bleary and glazed with sex, and catches your eye.

Feel good? you ask, sifting hair away from his damp forehead. When was the last time that happened? Fourteen?

I don’t wanna talk about it, he mumbles into your belly.

Your chest jumps, a laugh which echoes into Joel’s ear. Tastes that good, huh?

It takes a mighty effort for him to push up on his palms, slowly crawling up the length of your body until his elbows plant firm into the mattress either side of your head. He groans as he lowers his lips, parting them to let you slip your tongue inside.

The kiss is slow, tender. Your bodies melding together, teeth clacking and jaws moving in sync. A sharp taste, sweet with a singe of bitterness to it. Perfect, you think, smirking against Joel’s cool lips.

He pulls away, lips tickling the tip of your nose deliberately.

With a giggle, you push on his chest. You should shower. You smell like patrol.

Joel cocks an eyebrow. You comin’ in with me?

Nope. I got even more laundry to do now, old man.

He entertains the quip with a subtle smile, a thing which softens the creases on his face and lights a twinkle in his eyes. Quietly, genuinely, in a way which makes your heart ache a little, he whispers, Sorry I was workin’, pretty bird.

You shrug. ‘s okay. You made up for it. And – I found your holster. You lift your knee, letting the buckle shine in the sunlight.

You did that, Joel agrees, nodding and glancing down at the thing. He hooks a finger around the strap, giving it a little shake. Maybe I oughta lose it more often.

Hm, you shrug, or I can just keep it safe for ya. Looks good, don’t it?

He feigns a disappointed smile, a resigned sigh before he looks back up.

Better ‘n when I wear it, he admits, and his lips crash down to yours again.

#same universe as 'wish you were here' - if you want #joel miller #jackson!joel #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #tw somnophilia #tw dubcon

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morallyinept · 6 months

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Trick Or Treat? - A Dark!Frankie Morales x Dark!Joel Miller x Dark!Dave York Halloween One Shot 🎃

Summary: It's Halloween and you're settling in for a creepy night alone with a scary movie, when three masked intruders break in. And they have more tricks than treats in mind for you. 🎃

Pairing: Dark!Frankie Morales x Dark!Joel Miller x Dark!Dave York x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It's you, bub.)

Word Count: 10.5k ish - 'Issa long one. Better grab some spooky snacks. 👻

Scoville Smut Rating: 🌶🌶🌶 "You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here

Explicit: DARK/DDDNE/implied noncon/implied dubcon/CNC/free use/anything goes/implied forced/established relationship/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/squirting/anal play/restraint/dirty talk/derogatory/some mild degradation/some mild assault in the form of slaps, scratching, biting/jump scares/mentions of clowns & a clown mask image below the cut - eh, some people hate 'em. Dave York comes with his own warning. 🥴

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don't come at me; you've been plenty warned.

Author's Note: Happy Halloween!! 🎃 I'm fully aware that this might not be for everyone, and that's totally fine. You can just move on quietly if it's not for you. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Couldn't think of any better trio of Pedro Boys to mess with you on Halloween, other than Frankie, Joel & Dave.

Enjoy! 🖤🎃

MASTERLIST

The lounge is dimly lit.

Shadows curated from the trenches of nightmares claw across the walls as you perch on the edge of your worn-out couch, crowded with the mass invasion of mis-matched cushions.

The eerie glow from the flat screen casts an otherworldly pallor upon your face, accentuating the nervous flicker around your eyeballs that are wide with bulging scleras; watery white orbs in the dark.

The room is drenched in an unsettling silence, broken only by the haunting soundtrack of the horror movie slashing its way across your screen, from which you can’t tear away your fixed gaze.

Every creak of the house, every groan in the walls, sends fleeting shivers down your spine as you clutch one of the cushions tightly, pulled further into the chilling world of the movie.

It's Halloween night and the bowl, brimming full of sugared candy treats for the Witching Hour to begin, is resting languidly on the coffee table ready for the barrage of trick-or-treaters bound to harangue you all night long. Until you stop answering the door and devour them all for yourself. It always happens.

But, as you watch the movie, engrossed in the suspenseful carnage that is about to erupt, slowly bringing mouthfuls of warm, buttery homemade popcorn up to your mouth, you start to regret it.

You always do this to yourself; cue the manic paranoia afterwards, lying in bed and getting freaked out by strange noises rattling around in the house. Turning the light off and running up the stairs really, really fast so a crazed, masked killer - that is purely a figment of your over active imagination, whose just endured copious hours of jump scares - doesn't get you.

As the movie’s tension mounts, so too does your own. Your heart races in sync with the frantic, heavy beats of the ominous bass that vibrates in through your toes. Fear creeps up your spine with icy tendrils, constricting your chest with each suspenseful twist.

A young Jamie Lee Curtis is running for her life across the screen; a giant man in a boiler suit and waxy mask wielding a kitchen knife is chasing her, and you're yelling at her to run.

Run bitch!

You're invested wholly in the terror of the movie. Your fingernails leave crescent imprints on the fabric of the cushion you clutch, as if they could anchor you to reality amidst the growing dread that consumes you.

The room’s shadows deepen, feel heavier somehow in the darkest corners and seem to slink and shift in the periphery of your vision. Your mind plays tricks on you, conjuring grotesque shapes from the inky void to float towards you, but any sense of your own mild panic is marred by the screaming on the screen that pulls your attention away.

The rest of the house is unusually quiet around you, its existence ebbing away. Oblivious to the malevolent, unseen eyes that seem to pierce through the darkness, you continue to fill your mouth with the salty, puffed kernels.

"Run, why are you standing there, just fucking run!" You crunch to Jamie Lee; your eyes wide and the music hammering around you loudly as the killer is in the house with her, and she hasn't realised it yet.

Oh, the irony.

A figure continues to emerge from the swirly shadows, edging towards you in the dark where the light of the TV hasn't reached. It moves with a haunting grace as if it's part of the very darkness it inhabits. You feel hairs prickle up on the back of your neck as you watch the tension on the screen play out.

You know how this shit goes down; you've seen this movie millions of times, but it still gets you. Still makes you jump out of your skin at the right parts and-

"BOO!"

A maniacal laugh pierces your eardrum from behind and you screech in absolute terror.

The bowl of popcorn ends up all over the floor as you launch yourself up from the couch like you’ve been tasered, turning and screaming as you hear that sinister laugh morph into one you begin to recognise.

Big, splayed hands reach for you from within the dark and you squeal louder, backing up as the sinister marauder advances on you.

"Hey it's me, muñeca. It's me!" But he's still laughing and it's not fucking funny.

Your heart is trying to make a dash out of your throat and you swear to God some pee might’ve trickled down your leg.

"What the Hell are you trying to do, give me a heart attack?!"

You slap his hands away angrily as he reaches for your shaky ones, and the light from the TV assures you it's Frankie, still chuckling to himself from behind a cheap, neon-coloured clown mask.

"Jesus Christ," you sigh, catching your breath.

You're still trying to choke your thrashing heart back down into your chest. It's not going down without a rowdy fight apparently as you cough and splutter. "Why would you scare me like that?! What are you wearing?" You query with a shudder as he pulls off the grotesque mask.

It's a sinister, somewhat ugly clown, complete with rainbow coiffed curls, white cracked rubber for a face and peeling red nose. All your explicit, childish nightmares come true to form and are made graphically real - too real. You shiver again as you see it, now crumpled up in his hand.

"You should've seen your face!" He's laughing again and it's hard not to punch him right now. Or drop kick him in the balls.

"I fucking hate clowns." You growl, shoving him in the broad shoulder, as he tries to pull you towards him, but you resist in protest.

"Hey, it's just me." Frankie reassures, pulling you into the stack of his chest and trying to kiss your cheek in attempted fuzzy apologies, but you still repel him.

"I know," you say, rubbing your arm uneasily and pouting at him. “It’s not funny.”

"Aww, hermosa. Come here, I'm sorry. Voy a parar, lo siento. Lo siento." He pulls you closer into his strong arms wrapping you up tight for a moment, and closing your eyes you're immediately in your safe place; safe in Frankie’s arms where nothing horrific can get you.

You feel your heartbeat regain its usual steady tempo and your body melts into a heated pool of slush as he soothes you, rubbing his large hands up and down your back.

It's hard to stay mad at him when he holds you like this.

"Aren't you going to be late?" You murmur a few enraptured seconds later into his warm neck skin; your nose nuzzling into the soft, sparse scruff that roots there. You taste it as the oaky scents of his heady cologne makes your mouth water.

He groans deliciously, stirring a flurry again in your rib cage, as you run your tongue up towards his ear and suck gently on the lobe.

"Mmm," he smiles blissfully, crushing your bones into his. You feel his hands now sliding down further, past the small of your back, and pawing at the pliable meat of your ass.

You tug hard on his ear with your teeth and he hisses as you clamp down.

"Ow!" He whines. You snicker up at him.

"Revenge." You titter.

“Eso duele,” he gripes, pouting.

"Look at this mess." Your bare feet are crunching into the popcorn that’s all over the floor as if an Arctic blast has just hit.

"I'll help you clean up." Frankie offers, tossing the clown mask onto the couch. You make a mental note to throw the ghastly thing in the trash once he’s gone.

"No, you go. The guys are waiting for you."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." You nod with a soft smile, and watch as Frankie retrieves his favourite blue cap from his back pocket, unfolds and fixes it back into its rightful place on his tufty curls.

"I'll just be a few hours. Beers and some cards..." He smiles with cocoa eyes.

"Take as long as you want. I'll probably be asleep when you get back anyway." You say grimacing down at the mess.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Just gonna finish up the movie then climb into bed early."

"Hardcore." He teases, pulling you towards him again.

You kiss him on the lips gently. He wraps his hands around the small of your back and you can feel him. Feel that mounting swell of him against your belly as he stiffens in his stonewash Levi’s.

The kiss between you intensifies, his tongue slipping slowly into the hungry void of your mouth. A polluting convergence of wanton desire and longing as he murmurs into your wet gums. It sizzles in your bloodstream, warming you from the inside out.

"Might have to wake you up…" Frankie purrs as you pull away, breathless; your heart thudding, as well as your clit that feels like it’s growing in size and weighing you down.

You grin, clenching internally at the thought of how Frankie specialises in waking you up.

You pull on the lapels of his jacket, twisting the artichoke corduroy, working through the mental images of tossing him on the couch, straddling his face and sending him to the guys with your slick drying in his facial scruff.

"Go on, get going, you jackass." You warn, bending down to pick up the popcorn bowl. You feel a gentle swat on your butt.

"Enjoy the movie, baby." He says.

You smile standing upright. "Say hi to Joel and Dave for me."

Frankie turns back to you, his eyes appearing like black shiny marbles in the dark shadows, and smiles sinisterly at you.

An hour or so later - the clown mask successfully dumped in the trash ceasing to haunt you - and you’ve already given up answering the door to demanding, greedy little witches, hobgoblins and mummies wrapped up in cheap ply toilet paper.

The bowl of candy is now nestled snugly in your lap; the floor clear of the discarded popcorn. Your eyes are glued back to the flat screen as you finish the remainder of the movie, sinking down further into the couch so that you’re almost horizontal, as you chew and suck the candy corn clacking around your teeth.

A knock on the door a little while later makes you jump, but you ignore it, deciding the kids in your neighbourhood have had their fill. You reach for your phone - the light illuminating your face in the dark with Frankie’s beaming grin whilst he noogies you set as your wallpaper - to see it’s a little past nine PM.

You toss it on the couch beside you, absorbing in the movie, reaching into the candy bowl for more as Michael Myers terrorises Jamie Lee to no end.

The door knocks again, this time a thudding hammering.

What the hell?

You pause the movie and get up with the candy bowl, padding over to the hall and towards the front door. The knocks grow louder, more insistent, making you flinch.

“Alright, Jesus!” You call out as you open the door, expecting to see a cluster of snarky little demons holding out their treat bags gluttonously.

But as you wrench the door open, you’re met with only the stark emptiness of the dense night. Frowning, you poke your head out further and see there's only vacant spaces hidden in the shadows of the porch.

You shut the door, convincing yourself it’s a harmless prank from bored teenagers that you’ve become a victim to.

You run your hand around a niggling crick in your neck from slumping on the couch for so long and head back towards the lounge.

Before you reach the end of the hall, another barrage of hammering rattles through your body. Turning, you march towards the front door and pull it open again.

“This isn’t funny, you little dipshits!” You holler out determined to catch them in the act.

Again, there’s nobody there; the street is empty, devoid of any life or wily children making the rounds for poison candied apples. You hesitate, torn between curiosity and a faint bleed of fear haemorrhaging somewhere within your muscles.

“The fuck…?” You query as a cold breeze nips at the tops of your shoulders as you step out onto the porch.

“Hello?” You call out, nerves already frayed as they're going to get this evening; your patience is running thin.

The eerie silence of the night that greets you back seems deafening as it plugs up all your senses. The breeze restlessly pulls the goose bumps out of your pores and you instantly feel foolish, if but a little rattled.

Sighing, you retreat back inside. You wait for a few moments, listening, waiting again for the sound of the phantom knocker. You shake your head listlessly and with a stupefied mirth to yourself, even though the lingering sense of unease remains, trying to claw at your ankles.

You bolt the chain across the door before you finally walk away, convincing yourself that it’s nothing more than your paranoid mind left to its jangled devices.

Of all the nights to play fucking pranks.

Once the movie is over, you climb the stairs up to bed; washing up in the bathroom, now dressed in your matching shorts and shirt pyjama set, and brushing out the candy now cemented in your molars.

Once you're sunk into the softness of your mattress, you roll over onto Frankie’s side, missing his shape wrapped around your body and the feel of his breath warming the back of your neck as he snores lightly.

The musky scents of him linger in the sheets and you inhale deeply, reminding yourself that you live in reality and not some torrid nightmare with crazed, masked killers.

As you drift off, you smile at the thought of him losing at poker to Joel and Dave, and how much shit you’ll know they’ll both give him for it too.

It wakes you, bleeding into your chromatic unconsciousness and interrupting your stunted, dreamless sleep.

A sense of unease washes over you, amplified by the eerie stillness that still hangs in the air as you glance the time on the alarm clock. It sears its menacing red vitriol into your sleepy retinas brightly.

It's just past midnight and Frankie’s side of the bed is still empty.

You lay still and clammy in the sheets, straining your ears to hear what had interrupted your sleep, trying to discern whether it’s real or if your mind had yelled at you from somewhere in the void, pulling you out with a jolt instead.

You close your eyes and roll over again, your arm tingling numb from sleeping on it, when you hear it again.

At first you dismiss it as a product of your overactive imagination, still haunted by the spooky shenanigans of the night, or the creaks in the house coming out to taunt you further for shits and giggles. But it’s there, unmistakably. A faint sound ruminating from downstairs.

“Frankie? That you?” You call softly, sitting up.

You listen out, the waves of your heartbeat rolling and crashing into the tide of your eardrums, disturbed only by a siren passing in the night.

You slip out of the sheets and pad over to the bedroom door that’s ajar. You're certain you'd shut it when you came up.

“Frankie?” You call over the landing and wait.

There’s a loud clanging noise that startles you and you step backwards.

Nope!

Dashing into the bedroom, you reach into the closet for Frankie’s old college baseball bat that’s beaten up and splintered to hell, but it’ll serve as some protection.

You grab your phone with the intent to call Frankie to come and kick some ass. You swipe across the screen and dial Frankie’s number. It rings off as your battery dies.

“What?” You murmur as you fiddle around with the wire, certain you had plugged it in to charge, trailing it down to the socket and find it’s unplugged and left loose on the floor. Shit!

The noise from downstairs stirs your attention, making you jump, and you’re more than convinced there is someone in the house.

“Frankie, if you’re fucking with me again, I swear to God, I’m gonna kill you!” You mumble to yourself, standing up and tiptoeing towards the door.

It falls quiet and you step closer to the top of the stairs.

“Frankie!” You hiss out, assuming he’s probably drunk and rattling around down in the kitchen and making a mess, but you also don’t want to take the chance in case it’s not.

You descend down the stairs slowly, quietly as you can muster; the bat firmly in your hand and poised ready to swing. You convince yourself that you’ll be able to take them. Frankie’s shown you a thing or two about how to carry yourself.

Yeah. Come on, you fucker.

With your pulse rising in your ears, you step into the hall, glancing at the front door. It's still chained up and the dread fully overtakes you.

You raise the bat and round the corner into the lounge. You reach for the light switch and flick it up, but the lights don’t come on at all. You flick it up and down a few times, but you remain in the swamping dark.

Fuck!

You hear the sound again, and it’s indeed coming from the kitchen. Loud and rustling.

“Frankie?” You call out gently. The sound stops and you’re certain you hear footsteps. Perhaps, realising that you'd locked him out, he's come home through the back door.

"Frankie, answer me."

You head towards the kitchen, the orange light pooling in from the lamp post outside illuminates the trash can that's now overturned on the floor. You look down and kick it warily with your foot. You think you can see a shadow moving to your left.

The air shifts heavily against the back of your neck, and you yelp, swinging the bat with conviction.

“Uh-ho, we gotta live one!” A thick voice booms as a giant hand catches the bat mid swing.

The voice comes from underneath a creepy vampire mask, complete with fangs and a bloodstained cleft. He wrenches the bat from you, in easily the biggest hands you’ve ever seen, and you hear it clatter away across the tiled floor.

You scramble backwards. A leather gloved hand clamps over your mouth, as your arms are crushed behind your back, muffling out your panicked screams.

You struggle and recoil against the body that holds you in a vice-like grip, despite your legs thrashing like you’re fighting against the tide.

You glance up behind you and see another mask, this time a ghoul with pieces of skin missing, greets you. It's too dark to see the eyes through the slits. But you can hear his laugh; a cold mist of breathy chuckles as you struggle and fight against him.

His gloved hand presses harder over your mouth drowning out your squeaks into frantic inhalations as you struggle to breathe around it. All you can think of is Frankie. Doing some desperate Jedi Mind Trick shit to conjure him here to beat the crap out of these intruding assholes.

The Vampire steps towards you, cocking his head and his hulking frame immediately intimidates you, terrifies you even.

But a flood of adrenaline makes you kick out and your foot collides with his kneecap.

He growls as he jolts. “Hey now! There’ll be none of that, darlin’,” he warns sinisterly.

In a nanosecond, that voice registers somewhere familiar in the back of your skull, but before you have time to churn and process it into coherent thought, your arm is twisted further up your spine making you cry out around the gloved hand pressing against your teeth; the pressure making them ache.

“Grab her legs.” The Ghoul instructs as The Vampire reaches for them and clamps tightly around your ankles as you try to repl against him.

They manoeuvre you into the lounge where another figure emerges from the shadows, now illuminated by a couple of gloaming candles flickering on the coffee table.

Your eyes widen as you recognise the gnarly clown mask from the trash, shaking the lit match in his fingers until it's extinguished.

You’re tossed face down into the couch and you scramble, gasping and yelling out as they pin you quickly.

"Get off of meeee!"

The Ghoul on your right, The Vampire on your left. Their auspicious, maniacal laughter ringing in your ears; their tight grip cementing you in place, pinching painfully against your skin.

The Clown steps closer peering down at you through the mask; his chest rising and falling, steadily puffed out in his menacing stance.

Your eyes widen as he advances closer, his hands moving towards his belt; thick, long fingers slowly unbuckling it.

You yell out, struggling, but it’s futile. “No, NO!” You kick and scream, the dread poisoning your bloodstream, and they all laugh.

"Help! Hel-pffh!"

The gloved hand of The Ghoul wraps around your throat murdering your yells into dying croaks that choke out of you like sloppy hiccups.

"Ain't no-one gonna hear ya, darlin'." The Vampire mocks. "S'just you n’ us, pretty girl. All night."

The Clown kicks at your ankles separating them as The Vampire yanks your left leg towards him. The Ghoul follows with your right leg and it feels like he pulls it out of the joint.

You're completely opened up, your shorts riding tight up against your centre, and locked into place unable to move. You focus on The Clown and the sinister way in which he moves, head slightly cocked and revelling in your plight; a sadistic voyeur in this cruel fate.

Your breathing is frantic, sucking in too much oxygen making you a little light headed.

The Clown edges closer, his horrifically masked face craning closer towards yours and you can see those dark eyes staring back at you, unblinking and unflinching.

“Trick or treat?” He simply taunts.

You’re frozen, paralysed.

The fear has gripped you tight in a vice so binding that you’re unable to process basic motor functions. Both your fight or flight senses have left you, fled screaming into the night.

You can hear them. All around you. Their rabid voices hitching through the masks; verbal plotting laced with undulating horrors of menace. All the ways they want to feast on you rattles tinny in between your ears.

Their hands paw at you, tear at your supple flesh like a pack of ravenous wolves; groping, scratching, pinching. Tugging lewdly at the light cotton of your pyjama shorts and shirt.

The monsters harangue your every sense, flood your synapses with their ill intent. Their white noise deafens you.

Then, like you've been dunked head first under ice cold water, the sudden awareness of your predicament shakes you with alarm. It's enough to pump fast adrenaline through you like Popeye's spinach as you twist, screech and fight back with all you’ve got.

You’re not sure how you manage it - it's one for your brain to calculate the physics later - but you’re up on your feet, shoving The Clown backwards as he unzips his flies, leaving The Vampire growling.

But The Ghoul is up just as fast and chasing you down as you make a daring dash towards the front door.

Your fingers rattle clumsily around the chain, cursing yourself that you attached it earlier, unable to get a steady grip on it, when you feel The Ghoul slam into you from behind.

Your face is crushed hard into the wood as he pestles against you, stars flooding your eyes. You hear him snarling fistules of lava in your ear. He grabs your arms and drags you back. “No you don’t, bitch!” He seethes.

Now begins the physical struggle that you’re bound to lose. You might have torn at him with your nails, but it barely marks him. Your desperate imploring of him to stop, that he's hurting you, has no effect either. His need is too desperate now for him to even hear you.

You feel his urgency, and realising there’s nothing further you can do or say, your body submits to him as he drags you along with ease - he’s simply too strong for you to fight off - they all are.

He slams you down, bent forward, over the dining table; your temple and cheek slapping against it, dazing you for a second.

You feel hands on your body, one hand slipping easily around your throat, the other slipping around the front of your belly pulling you back tight against him.

You feel him, feel the excitement of your helplessness goading him on. Feel that hardness of his twisted desire. Your wrists are restrained at your back, held in place as he easily and quickly manoeuvres them despite your struggles.

“Please!” You cry out louder.

His voice is rough sounding in your ear. "Don't you dare scream, or I'll snap your pretty little neck!" Foul menace is hissed into you insidiously from The Ghoul. And you know he's not messing around.

Through the commotion, you hear a chair being pulled out, creaky scrapes, and The Clown takes a seat at the opposite end of the table. He tosses a couple of black cable ties across the polished wood to The Ghoul.

The Ghoul secures your wrists together, sharp and snapping, and you whine with tears pooling in your eyes for them to let you go. To not do this. To please just stop.

The Clown, drawing one denim clad knee up, sitting back in the chair, watches darkly.

You jut your leg out backwards in a last ditch attempt to not go down without a fight, clocking it into The Ghoul’s thigh and he growls and slams his fist on the table mere inches from your face.

He’s had enough now.

He tears off his mask and presses his body over yours, suffocating you with his crushing strength. He grips round your chin and turns your head. The face that is presented back to you, smirking with dark brown eyes burning into you like hot embers, renders you useless as he twists your face to meet yours. You can hear your neck crack.

Oh fuck.

“D-Dave?” You query confused. He grits his teeth, mouth pursed out as he stares you into a weak submission. He's pissed, livid.

You see movement over his shoulder as The Vampire emerges.

“Cat’s outta the bag, hmm?” The Vampire says to Dave, a hefty hand resting on his shoulder.

You watch in shock, and with something else starting to flare over your body, as The Vampire removes his own mask, crushing it in his large palm to reveal soft, greying curls slick with sweat in the chocolaty roots.

“Joel?" You gasp.

“In the flesh, darlin’.” He sneers through a smile that’s more unnerving than Dave’s fury somehow, completing this picture of terrifying machismo.

“What is this, w-what’s going on?" You pant, your wrists burning as they struggle around the plastic snare keeping them together and tingling your fingers with numbness.

Dave’s gloved hand squeezes around your jaw popping your lips open.

“Ssshh.” His leathered index finger pushes tightly to your mouth. Black butterflies dance over Dave’s features. You're tempted to bite down, but sensing this, he pushes another finger in and you heave as it tickles the back of your throat.

Joel chuckles softly at your plight as he watches you choke around Dave's invading leather digits.

"So this is what you look like sucking on Frankie's cock, hmm?" Dave taunts.

"Real fuckin' nice." Joel agrees, licking his lips. You catch him palming himself over his jeans and you feel a heavy flutter start to rustle from the grave in your core.

You try to swallow but your mouth is stuffed so full of the padded leather that your saliva pools out the corner of your mouth and runs down your chin.

Dave grips the side of your face with his other hand, his hips pushing you against the table. Joel lurches behind him like a stacked shadow, sealing off any gap for a potential escape.

You want to be furious, you want to push him off you as he pushes his fingers into the furthest reaches of your throat and becomes mesmerised by it as you gag and retch.

Instead, and in some fucked up depravity stirring from the pits, you melt under his force; enjoying the feel of it and nuzzling into his hand with your eyes closed, until he yanks your hair backwards and holds you still and taut.

You gasp out as he sniffs all over your neck and face like a dog. "Oh, you want this don't you, slut?"

Dave's sudden change in demeanour again does something to you; something wonderfully perverted and untamed. Something unexpected and he picks up on it immediately like a Bloodhound.

He pulls his hand out of the glove, but leaves it in your mouth, pressing it in further until you gag more and your cheeks fill with it.

"I can smell your cunt," Dave says in a voice you don't recognise. It's sinister and deep, yet with a jaunty bounce of a little chuckle on the end of it.

His macabre smile does nothing to appease the angst simmering away inside your stomach. Instead, it seems to intensify it to boiling point and it begins to ache in your gut like a heavy pull.

But then, a surge of devious pleasure swills in your bloodstream, seemingly from out of nowhere; you're aroused by becoming aroused at such a thing. A blooming in between your legs, the slickness of your pussy waking up to join this fucked up tea party. And the feel of your body becoming heated for him makes you sweat.

“Ain’t she pretty, hmm?” Joel taunts.

Dave runs his mouth over your cheeks; he becomes possessed, animalistic almost as he glides it back and forth, back and forth. You feel his lips drag against yours but he doesn't kiss you, even though you're suddenly desperate to latch onto his lips - to feast on them like you're starved, despite the glove stuffed so unceremoniously into your mouth.

It sends shivers down your body and tingles inside your hair follicles that he’s pulling on tightly. The smoothness of his marble-like jaw, the plumpness of his bottom lip; a kaleidoscopic wonder of him that you've never really paid attention to before.

Somewhere, deep inside of you, you realise you’d always thought Dave was attractive, handsome. And now whilst he’s terrifying and rough, that attraction rears its ugly head and dives haphazardly into wanton lust.

The electric sparks zap down your spine and surges through your nipples that are tightening inside your pyjama shirt. You’re unconsciously squeezing your thighs together as your clit throbs.

He's right. You do want this.

"You know, I've always wanted to fuck you." Dave's hand reaches for his belt.

You see Joel kneel down to your level as your eyes widen. You feel Dave yank down your pyjama shorts as he practically tears them from your legs.

You sound your resistance out around the glove, but all that comes out is incomprehensible moans.

He swipes between your legs, and his fingers slip over your puffy cunt lips, and it's a dead giveaway at how drenched you are.

You feel Joel pat your shoulder. “S’okay, darlin’,” he soothes with maddening eyes. “We’re gonna take real care of ya.”

"Yeah. Feel that tight cunt that Frankie says you've got squeeze round me." Dave snorts. "Fuck, you're so wet…"

You hear yourself audibly whimper as his fingers find you soaking and wanting. He runs them up and down your fleshy seam and pushes two of them into your folds with a loud, undignified squelch.

He slides further up and knocks against your clit that aches and your thighs judder uncontrollably as he circles it.

Joel reaches between your legs and takes a swipe for himself. You watch as he sucks your slick from his fingers and smirks.

“Someone’s ready to be fucked, aren’t ya, darlin’?” Joel says to you.

You shake your head and it clatters against the tabletop.

Dave moans into your ear, "what a little slut. Wet for me already. What would your boyfriend think?"

You whine as he increases the pressure on your clit, your legs already buckling underneath you.

"Why don't we ask him, hmm? Hey Frank. What do you think about that?"

Your eyes dart to The Clown, watching you silently with tented fingers.

"Frank!" Dave grunts again through gritted teeth. "Take that thing off and watch me fuck your girl.”

A hand goes to The Clown's face and you recognise Frankie's features as they're revealed to you from under it. Your heart surges, feeling heavier in your chest. But Frankie doesn't look how you expect him to.

He doesn't look aghast or in disgust, or furious with Dave and Joel. No. He looks positively delighted and smirks darkly at you as Dave lines himself up against your oozing slit.

Frankie tosses the mask across the table. "Fuck her until she screams, Dave." He says casually cold.

You watch helplessly as Frankie's lips twist up into a chilling smirk that ices right through your blood.

You whimper helplessly. Your body is shattered with an agonising realisation as Frankie teases and encourages your plight rather than halting it.

You can feel your heartbeat hammering wildly in your chest cavity - pumping courage into your veins, preparing you for what is about to happen.

He’s not helping you, he’s not stopping this. You realise that he’s heinously a part of it. Tears well in your eyes, threatening to blind you and it feels like every bone in your body has snapped.

Dave shunts his cock into you so hard, that the table screeches and jostles forward against the floor. Frankie slaps his palms down so that he isn't crushed in the gut by it.

"Shit! Never knew ya had it in ya, Yorkie-boy." Joel remarks with an impressed grin.

"Fuck you, Joel." Dave pants from behind you.

He’s not gentle as he drills in, pushing himself into the deepest parts of you he can reach as he fucks you. Your pussy welcomes him in, sucking around him, despite your body clenching initially.

Slowly, you’re unfurling, you’re taking it, taking him, whether you want to or not. Your mind is still trying to figure that part out.

He’s packing you out and filling you to the brim as he surges into a vile, hypnotic rhythm. You’re gasping around the glove; groaning and moaning as your body performs the ultimate betrayal against you, and starts to unwillingly peak.

“Mmph, nufffph…” You lament helplessly around the suffocating glove.

"Look at this slut, coming already. Barely fucked you, sweetheart and you're coming all over me!" Dave cajoles as though he's unimpressed.

"His cock feel too good in ya, honey?" Joel asks, stroking at your sweat laden face.

You whine, unable to speak with the glove still stuffed in your orifice.

"Oh, I know, darlin'. Let's get that out, shall we?" Joel reaches for the leather and slowly pulls it out of your stretched, dry mouth. "That better?"

You nod, licking around your taut gums. "Uh-huuuah…" You groan as your back tenses and your body arches.

Dave pistons in deep, grabbing a hold of the meat of your hips with sharp, tight fingers. You can already feel the bruises forming as he squeezes around your malleable flesh.

Joel smiles, grabbing at your jaw, squeezing it tightly in a binding crush of his fingers and stubby thumb. "Tell me how good it feels with Dave’s cock in ya cunt."

"G-goo-ood." You whimper, snottily. You say it to appease him; it’s what he wants to hear, but Dave’s hitting those spots inside you that creep up your shoulders and whisper in your ear that it does, in fact, feel good.

Your muscles are tense all over your body making you feel like lead, but that building heat is melting it all away until you’re a boiling, metallic liquid running off the table to melt Joel’s boots.

"Just good?” Joel frowns. “Ya can do better than that. He’s giving it to ya hard, honey n’ you’re telling me it’s just good?” He shakes his head disapprovingly.

"S-so goo-ood…" you stutter, your words being forced out of your larynx with every brutal thrust Dave gives you as he riles and growls behind you.

"Tell him it's the best fucking cock ya've ever had." Joel prompts with a controlled voice.

"It's t-the best cock… I've ever ha-haad." You hiccup through your wails.

Dave continues to pummell you. You can't take it anymore, it begins to hurt as he nudges against your cervix like a battering ram. It begins to charge and stew. It begins to turn you out, kicking and screaming by the ankles as your fingertips fizz and your eyes roll back into your skull as though possessed by the emergence of another haunting orgasm, only this time stronger than the last.

It's burning, licking all over your skin and melting you. He's taking from you, owning you.

And it feels oh so fucking good.

"Oh God, oh fuck!" You cry. “Please! Fuck, yes!” You’re babbling; possessed by the inucubus-like demons that twist and trick and convince you that you want this as they lick at your ear. That somewhere, in the back of your mind, this has always been a dark fantasy that you’ve been reluctant to walk the path of.

You can feel the drool from your mouth pool on the table under you, sticking to your cheek like syrup.

Joel slaps your face and it stings you back to reality for a second. "Louder darlin'!"

"It's the… aaah-ha! Oh God! The-best-fucking-cock-I've-ever-fucking-had! Aaahh! Fuuuuuck!" You wail as Dave snaps his hips into you and you fold completely in half.

You're shaking and can't seem to stop, Dave's dastardly grunts filling your ears as you squeeze and flood him. "That's it baby, soak my cock. Just like that you little slut."

"Ohh. Frankie. Man. That's gotta hurt." Joel snorts as he lets your face go and it falls back against the table with a heavy thunk. You've no energy to keep it up right now as you succumb to Dave’s cock tearing you open whilst your bones dissolve.

Frankie purses his lips as Joel stands up with a smirk tossed at him. The two men watching you as Dave brutally gives you a pounding that feels like it’ll never let up.

And you kinda don’t want it to.

“Enjoying the show, boys?” Dave pants around a wheezed laugh.

He reaches forward and pulls at your hair again, snapping your neck up, your spine bending backwards on itself like a screwed up question mark, as he holds you there in a warped contortion and your body can only take it.

It shouldn’t feel like this, it shouldn’t feel good and devouring. You should be repulsed, you should be frightened with how he's invaded you. You should be doing everything you can to fight him off.

But you don’t want to.

You want him to snap your spine in half and eat your insides. You want Dave to annihilate you and pulverise your body into ashy dust. You want him to make you come again.

“Watch me break your girl in half, Frank.” Dave croons evilly, as if able to read your thoughts.

“Oh god... fuck... please!" Even your mouth betrays you now, begging him for more. "Dave! Pleasepleaseplease…"

But somehow your cries and begging him only make your orgasm that much more intense. And while he laughs, while they all laugh at you being railed on the dining table, deep derisive chuckles at your utter humiliation by Dave’s hands, you come again right on top of the other; your entire body shaking and trembling as you’re being exorcised of any reluctant demons left inside you.

You want this. You want them all to have their fill and to fill you up. You want to be tossed around and shared by them all. Left muddied and stained.

"Daaaaaave!" You wail.

“That’s it, scream for me! I fucking love it when little sluts scream. Little sluts who scream like they don't want this cock buried in their cunt." Dave grunts into your scalp and he’s all teeth.

You’re completely out of breath. Your body is caving into him as he ruts and fucks you harder, deeper and without any intention of stopping soon.

You’re starting to believe it when he said he’d always wanted to do this, always wanted to fuck you. And now that he his, it's more terrifying and wonderful than what you could have imagined.

You can feel him speed up, really giving you his all, as his breathing starts to wane. His thighs are constant thuds against your ass cheeks, so much so that you imagine the skin between you is now one.

“Fuck!” He yells out.

When Dave comes, it’s like he’s howling at the moon; turning himself around his bones and sinew as he pants and wheezes like an animal with bloodied carcass strings hanging around his teeth.

You feel him pump into you, his thighs buckling and his hands releasing your hair from around his grip; you feel like you’ve been scalped.

He lets go of you completely, tossing your used body onto the tabletop like garbage, as his cock slips out and you can feel his come pooling at your entrance. You inadvertently squeeze to stop it sluicing down your thighs as your panting subsides.

You’re dizzy, you’re seeing spots in your vision as you try to remember how to breathe.

You’re given no remission; Joel’s there immediately as Dave steps back, catching you before you slide off the table into a heap as your legs finally give way.

“I got ya, darlin’.” He scoops you up into his strong arms with ease, and carries you through to the lounge.

Joel makes his way with you in his arms; his heavy boots crunching in some of the popcorn spilt on the floor in your earlier fright from Frankie that you'd missed clearing up.

He sits on the sofa, cradling you in his wide lap and stroking through your hair gently. Your arms are aching, feeling like they're on fire as your wrists are still lashed together tightly behind your back.

You look up, in a heady stupor, to see Frankie still watching from the dining table with a blank, unreadable face and dark eyes, and Dave pouring a glass of water and gulping it back, clearing his throat, naked from the waist down and puffing out his cheeks that are pink with the exertion. His face shines with sweat.

“Let’s get these off ya, darlin’,” Joel says.

He pulls a switchblade from his back pocket and you flinch as the blade flicks open. He waves it under your eyelashes and you tense.

“M’gonna cut ya free. Ya try anythin’ and I’ll slide this into your belly, y’hear me?” He pinches the fat of your stomach under the flaps of your pyjama shirt to emphasise the point.

You nod frantically as he cuts the cable ties from your wrists.

Tucking the knife away, he brings your hands around to your front and massages the feeling slowly back into them. They have purple rings around them that itch and weep from raw blisters.

He brings your wrists to his lips and presses gentle kisses over the broken skin whilst holding eye contact with you.

An urge surges through your fingertips; you feel compelled to stroke through his curls, feel him nuzzle into you at his gentle nature. Run your nose over his facial scruff and see if it smells different from Frankie’s.

But you don’t, he keeps your twitching hands firmly in his own as he kisses delicately, runs his soothing tongue around the welts.

“Better?” Joel asks you after a few minutes.

You nod as he pushes your knotted hair behind your ears.

“Alright, darlin’. Lay back. M’gonna fuck ya now.”

"Please-" you start in a weak protest. Your body isn;t ready for another pounding yet.

"Shut up. Ya gonna take what I give ya like a good girl." He menaces in the same gentle tone, which is unnerving as it is heated. “In fact, let’s get you down here. Can splay ya out. S’better.”

Joel picks you up like you weigh nothing and lays you on the wooden floor, pushing the coffee table out of the way with his other hand effortlessly. It creaks across the wooden floor.

His foreboding, giant hands grip either side of your pyjama shirt lapels and wrenches it open with a quick yank; the buttons tearing and popping off, some never to be found again.

"Fuck," Joel groans as your breasts spill out at him. He leans forward over you, taking a nipple between his lips and sucking on it, pulling on it with his teeth and making you hiss.

"Such a nice pair, darlin'. Jesus." He gruffs tonguing around your nipple as it hardens in his mouth. He runs his mouth across the valley and peaks of your breasts, his tongue lavishing attention around those stiff nipples that he teases.

You feel him bite down on the meat of the left one and you hiss as he sucks the skin in around his teeth ferociously. He rises up when he’s left a purple mark. “Something for ya to remember me by,” he says.

Your eyes water, yet you groan in response to his biting, and shut them as he leaves another mark on your sternum. You feel a sharp sting across your cheeks; you open them again in shock.

"Eyes on me." Joel warns. "Want you to watch me turn ya out."

“Please, Joel…” You whine, trying to resist him and the way he can simply knead and spread you about with ease like you’re a pliable plasticine doll. But your body is too strung out from Dave’s gruelling punishment. It has no fight left in it.

You try to close your legs, but Joel’s too strong. He wrenches them apart with a simple shove of his hands making your thigh bones crack: his stocky body filling the gap and stopping you from shutting them again as he slots in between like a giant cinder block.

"Don't act like ya don't want me inside ya. I know you've been thinkin' 'bout me doing this to ya. You're a fuckin' tease."

Joel's always been big. With his broad shoulders and biceps that often strain under his plaid shirts, he's the quieter one of the three of them, the softer one.

A gentle giant that would always come to your aid if you needed him. And he knows how to grill a mean steak when he invites you and Frankie over for barbecues and he makes for the perfect, gracious host.

But tonight, he's showing you a side of him you never thought could exist. A side of him that's turning you on explicitly, despite the creeping exhaustion and pursed reluctance.

Joel's a Texan gentleman through and through. But tonight, he's a wild fucking animal.

“Y'gonna hold ya girl steady for me, Frankie? Squirmy lil' thing ain’t she?" Joel grunts as he unbuckles his belt.

Momentarily, you feel Frankie lifting your head into his lap and securing your arms above your head as you wriggle and headbutt against his thighs. “Don’t fight it, hermosa.” He warns.

"Gon' make a mess of ya, darlin'," Joel smirks as he shuffles his jeans off and you spy his ominous cock; massively hard and dripping. It's huge, almost comically so, and you gulp.

Fuck!

"Ya ever had a cock this big before? Gon' break ya open." Joel spits into his palm and smears it all around his fat head as he pumps himself.

You gasp; a deep guttural howl transmorphing into a silent scream as Joel pushes the head of his engorged cock against your hole and begins stretching you out.

"Oh God… so fuckin’ tight. Ya didn't tell me how good this would be, Frankie." Joel groans through a slack jaw. "Ya can't be keeping this pussy to yourself. That ain't fair."

You hear Dave snicker in agreement above you as he repositions himself on the couch to get a better view of your plight.

“Oh fuck…” You cry out as Joel continues to push in further.

Frankie's cock was big, he often left a delicious ache deep inside you for days after. Even Dave's cock you'd feel bruising around your insides in the morning. But Joel? Fuck, Joel wasn't joking when he said he'd break you open.

It burns and sears and you feel so full despite him not being all the way in yet.

"Fuck Joel, you're… it's too much. I can't-" You protest, shaking your head and screwing up your eyes.

"Suck it up." He grunts as he pushes his hips further into yours.

"Take it," Frankie grizzles, as you try to thrash against his hands, pinning your arms down. Your whole body feels full of Joel as he finally stills; his full, fat length buried inside you and you can feel yourself rib and pulse around him, already on the cusp of falling apart. You're whimpering and shaking already.

"Well look at that, seems ya can take me after all, sweetheart." Joel smirks, the crest of his hips now pressed flush against yours. The weight of him crushing you somewhat. He looms over you, his gigantic palms flat on the floor by your head.

"Please move," you whimper around grinding your teeth. “Oh God, Joel, you’re too fucking big-”

"What's that, darlin'? Ya begging me to fuck ya now?" Joel chuckles. "Ya girl's really greedy for cock, Frankie."

“Fuck her,” Dave encourages.

Joel pulls backwards and slams forward into you with a hard shunt. "There we go."

"FUCK!" You wail, water blinding your eyes as they mist over. You feel him; one quick, hard shunt of his cock inside of you and you gasp at the full invading breach as he bottoms out.

Although it feels like he’s ripped right through your back.

He does it again and your breath is pumped out of your lungs into the air above you as you flounder, trying to suck it all back in.

Joel's large paws grab at your hips as he kneels up and steadies himself into a brutal pace, rattling your bones with each powerful thrust.

Your hands squeeze into fists and you glance up at Frankie; a poised smirk over his upside down features, a few renegade curls falling into his face, watching Joel's thick cock hammer into you.

Joel's grunts fill your senses, mesmerised by the way he looks down to see himself pull back and admire how wet his cock is with you before he raises his eyebrow up and smirks accomplished. “Greasin’ me up good, darlin’.”

“Joel!” You wail as he slams on in again. You’re just a body for him to fuck, a toy for him to twist out of shape and break apart. “Oh fuck, please, nuuaaaahhh!"

Your gasps and cries are soon silenced by Dave straddling your face and planting his heavy balls into your mouth. "Shut up and suck." He commands.

He strokes his now hard cock again, and groans as you’re forced to suck whilst Joel continues to annihilate your cunt.

Dave smirks at Frankie who’s still pinning your wrists in place.

You look up at them both, staring into one another as Dave jerks his cock and Frankie holds his eye contact with flared nostrils.

Dave grips onto Frankie's shoulder with a heavy clap. He growls whilst you suck on his balls that have completely filled your mouth, squeaking around them as Joel forcefully pulls another orgasm from you.

Frankie rests his forehead against Dave's as he groans, fucking into his own fist.

You see Frankie's lips twitch, whispering to him, but you can't hear anything over your own muffled squeaks and Joel's rabid panting.

You think you lipread Frankie telling Dave to come. To come for him, and that thought alone makes you surge and cry out as you release all over Joel's cock uncontrollably.

Meanwhile, Joel is destroying your cunt as he thrusts deep and with intent on making you feel it; feel him with every shunt that leaves you gasping for oxygen as it's pushed out of you by his dick. There's simply no room in your body for both.

Your squeaking around Dave's balls reaches a fever pitch and the humming against them only makes him grunt and growl heavier.

His grip on Frankie's shoulder tightens, screwing up his t-shirt as he pumps his cock faster. He tenses and you feel his balls lurch in your mouth as he spurts ropes of thick ejaculate all over Frankie's denim clad thighs.

He hoists himself off of you, panting and sitting back on the couch. "Clean him up," Dave instructs you with a click of his fingers.

Joel pulls out of you and flips you over onto all fours and ploughs back in as you shakily get to licking Dave's come off of Frankie's jeans.

"Good slut," Dave praises as he sits back on the couch, his arm slung over his face and breathes deeply.

You feel Joel pry apart your ass cheeks. You feel a wet globule of his spit on your ass and you flinch at it, feeling it cool and sloppy as he rubs his thick fingers around it, teasing your puckered hole.

You then feel Joel's thumb stretch through your rim. You instinctively clench and he growls.

"Clench and it's gon' hurt. I'll make sure of it." He smacks your ass as you yelp from the sting.

"Relax, hermosa," Frankie instructs, grabbing hold of your face and focusing your attention on him.

You shake your head frantically; the thought of Joel’s cock ploughing in your ass fills you with utter dread and horror. “No,” you implore Frankie with wide eyes.

“I said, relax.” Frankie says squeezing your cheek bones tightly. You can feel Joel twisting his thumb deeply in your hole.

A dewdrop of Dave’s come is smeared on your cheek and Frankie scoops it onto his finger and holds it out to you. He hisses, biting his lip as you suck it off, eyeing him the whole time.

"You're such a good fucking whore for us, aren't you, baby? Quieres esto tan mala, ¿verdad?" Frankie nods encouragingly as you fall under his dark spell. You feel his own thumbs stroke at the sides of your face now as you pant and whine.

"Yeah…" you nod too, straining not to clench as Joel's thick thumb hooks fully into your ass.

"There we go, snug as a bug, darlin'." He emits a chuckle that seems to grab at you and shake you with its eerie, sadistic violence.

“Does ya girl squirt Frankie?” Joel asks as you inadvertently start pushing back against him as he fucks you more laboured now.

Frankie chuckles and nods. “Just gotta know the right place to stroke.” He looks back at your face in his hands, sweaty and panting. “Isn’t that right, baby?”

Joel nods in agreement. “I reckon you can squirt for me, darlin’.”

“She can. Let me get some of that pussy.” Frankie says, highly enthused at the prospect.

Joel pulls out and rolls you on your back as you collapse into the floor. You can see Dave sitting forward, elbows on his knees and watching you intently with those dark eyes. You reach around his ankle and tug gently and whine and he responds to your wanting.

He slips down and slides behind you, propping you up, groping and massaging your breasts.

You catch the glimmer of his wedding band as his hands work your tits and you can only wonder at what Carol is assuming he’s doing this evening.

Those thoughts are cut short as Joel kneels up, slipping his thick cock back inside you, and Frankie lays down beside him on his stomach and starts sucking on your clit.

You whine, watching intently as Joel’s hand comes down on the back of Frankie’s head, sifting through his curls and groans. His mouth is practically on Joel's cock too, and it does something to you as your body fizzes in response to the delicious sight of it.

“Fuck!” You cry out, biting down on your lip.

The pressure on your clit and the way Joel hits that spot deep inside you just right starts to build in your body. It all centres, gathering deep in the pit of your core as the warmth starts to choke you up.

You feel it tightening, bunching. Your toes start to curl, your fingers crack. Your back lifts and arches of its own volition and your thighs shake and stiffen.

You feel a pull, a heavy sensation as you bear down. The pressure mounting, pushing… You see those phosphenes glimmer at you as you close your eyes.

You can hear Dave’s snarls close to your ear, feel his fingers tugging on your nipples. Feel Frankie’s skilled tongue drawing those fast, dizzying circles on your clit. Feel Joel hitting that spot again and again that’s going to annihilate you imminently.

They're everywhere, they're all over you.

Your climax is almost violent; you buck and shudder as you release the pressure, always feeling for a split second like you'll pee, but don't.

You're gushing loudly, and uncontrollably, over Joel’s cock and Frankie’s lips. It bears down again, that weight inside of you erupting as you release. Frankie laps it up like a starving animal as it soaks his scruff. It feels like you’ll never stop.

“Holy shit!” Dave remarks with a smirk watching you squirt. He squeezes your tits together as you place your hands over his and giggle deliriously. He squeezes your fingers around his.

The combination of having Joel’s thick cock in your pussy, while receiving a tongue fucking from Frankie makes for a most lewd and unabashed scene whilst your head thrashes against’s Dave chest as he chuckles just as bewildered by it as you are.

You can’t believe it, your cunt is absolutely gushing as the three of them work in tandem to completely destroy you. And you’re loving it.

Frankie licks his lips that are dripping as he rises up, the collar of his t-shirt is soaked, and Joel grabs a hold of you and fucks harder, quicker. More determined as he nears his own release.

“Joel!” You wail as you squeeze against Dave’s fingers, feeling like you could crush them.

Finally, Joel comes roaring like an animal, and pumps himself liberally inside of you.

"Fill her up now, Frankie.” Joel nods with a puff as he pulls out.

The mess that is over the wooden floor between your legs is obscene.

Frankie pulls off his Levi’s, runs a hand through his messy hair, and crawls over you.

"Who's pussy is this?" He asks slipping a finger side of you and feeling the spend of both his friends in there, warm and silken.

"Yours," you whimper.

"Really? I think you need reminding, hermosa. Seeing as you've been such a fucking slut tonight, hmm?"

"Frankie..." you whine as he pulls you forward towards him. He lines himself up with your pussy, pushing in.

"Aah!" You groan.

“Fuck, Joel stretched you nice and good, baby. Shit. You feel loosened up.” He growls thrusting hard and fast. You can only clutch onto him, only whine and groan as Frankie gives you his all.

"My pussy. My fucking pussy." Frankie seethes at you, hips snapping furiously into you. He pants, growls. Garbled Spanish and English flows from his lips as he pummels you.

He finishes inside of you quickly, too riled up from this whole scene to not bust a nut quickly.

“Got all three of us in that slutty pussy now, don't you?" Dave taunts.

“Which one of our kids ya gon’ have?” Joel smirks as he pats your tummy gently. “Cunt’s filled to the brim.”

The three of them dazzle you, utterly fucking you up. Working together like a team; a gang of insidious spectres dominating and taking their turns with you.

And you fucking love every single second of it.

After Frankie fills you, Joel pulls apart your legs to watch the cream pie spilling out of you.

He runs his fingers through it, pushing it back inside you. He then brings them to your face, Dave holding onto your jaw and bringing it forward towards Joel's drenched digits. He rubs them over your lips. "Lick ‘em clean. Taste all of us."

They all watch with praise and smirks as your tongue moves out tentatively, licking the salty cream from Joel’s fingers until he finally pushes them in your mouth.

Your lips wrap around them tightly as you suck them like you would Frankie's cock.

“Mmm,” you whine, giggling. "You all taste good."

Dave chuckles behind you and Frankie laughs, his chin leaning on Joel’s broad shoulder.

“Good slut,” Dave praises in your ear.

You lay there in a crumpled heap, gradually gathering your thoughts; striving to understand and come to terms with what has happened this spooky evening.

But initially you’re still too confused, still swimming in a blissed out fracture of reality bobbing along the surface of a choppy existence.

Baffling questions bloom and wilt quickly as you have no answers to appease the turmoil of embarrassment, shame… of pure unadulterated pleasure.

You can hear the shrill echoes of the guys in the hall, dressed and murmuring with Frankie. You can't hear much, the ringing in your ears from your body being mauled and torn at still hums, but you think you can make out Joel saying something.

She’s a good sport… Hope she liked it.

Take care of her tonight. Dave adds.

Ya still coming over Sunday, for the game? Joel checks.

You feel like you zone out for a while, only coming to when Frankie stands above you, towering and looming; his presence breaking the barriers of your heavy consciousness.

The look on his face is unreadable, impenetrable.

You peep up at him from behind the scraggy mess of your knotted hair, your scalp still aching from how hard Dave had tugged on it.

"I can't believe you did it." You grin, the concealed violence of this night escaping through your teeth into blissed satisfaction.

Frankie’s cool look instantly melts into a warm sunbeam. "Was it what you wanted, querida?" He asks, crouching down, knuckles running against your leg affectionately.

You nod. "It was better than I could have imagined. Creepy. But so fucking good." You smirk dreamily. "I really got into it."

He smiles accomplished, a faint blush of pink creeping under his eyes and in the crinkles there as he grins. "Good. How are you feeling, you a little sore?"

"My whole body feels like I've been tackled. I think Joel broke me." You start laughing as your pussy flinches in horror at the recall of him stretching you wider than you've ever been.

"He's a big guy." Frankie chortles.

"You're telling me. Jesus." You reach down and cup your battered pussy.

"Come on. I'll run you a bath." Frankie scoops you up in his arms and carries you up to the bathroom.

You plant a delicate smooch on the side of his golden neck. “Thank you for this,” you murmur.

“Cualquier cosa por ti, mi amor.” He runs his soft scruff against your cheek as he navigates the stairs. You can smell your cunt in it and you smile.

He gets in the bath with you, pulling you back against his soft belly and soaping your body down with a hot washcloth. Your wrists are still purple; he smiles insidiously, feeling a rush through his cock at the decay of them.

"Did you enjoy it?" You query as his soapy fingers interlock with yours and you feel his breath cool against the shell of your ear.

"I loved every second of it," he assures.

"No jealousy?"

"None at all. I trust them. We discussed it in length. I told them anything goes, but no kissing you on the mouth and they respected that. It's all good."

You nod and mull it over, enjoying the hot water soothing the embryonic bruises you know will gestate overnight on your skin. You glance down at the purple bites Joel left on you. You press on one enjoying the masochistic flare for a few moments.

You think back to so many things, but then you remember Dave and Frankie and that intimate moment you witnessed where Frankie was whispering to him.

"Have you guys… ever done stuff together?"

"No. No, never." He says. “First time. For all of us actually.”

You nod, admittedly feeling a little swell of disappointment. But it’s washed away by the thought that perhaps they’ll be up for it again, one day.

"Well, this is going to make poker nights interesting now, hmm?"

You feel his chest vibrate against your back as he laughs. "Yeah."

"Dave is just… an animal!" You exclaim chuckling.

"Poor Carol." Frankie says, and you both start laughing and find you can't stop for a little while.

You both stay in the water until it starts to cool and the bubbles have all gone, just enjoying Frankie noodling and fussing over you, and relishing how lucky you are as he wraps his wet arms around you, and you could happily drown in the bath water.

It's late; the dawn is on the cusp of rising on the first day in November and you watch as Frankie climbs into the sheets, naked as the day God created him with golden tan skin, pulling you back against his body that moulds itself around yours like warm putty.

His thumb draws gentle circles on your navel as he buries his face into the nape of your neck. You reach for your phone, previously plugging the charger back into the wall.

“Did you do something to the power?” You query.

He chuckles. “Yeah. I switched off the breaker. Joel must’ve reset it when they left.” He yawns.

“You guys thought of everything.” You smile.

"We were in the house for a while. You were asleep." You hear him smirk into you skin.

You smile. You see a message that had come through whilst your phone was off, from Frankie, and click it open.

It's a selfie of Frankie, Joel and Dave outside on the porch with the Halloween masks on, possibly taken moments before they stormed the house.

Underneath is a message typed out:

You smirk as Frankie stirs behind you, rubbing your back, and you put your phone back on the table and rollover into his arms.

The light from your phone stays illuminated on your previous message thread with Frankie:

“I love you,” you murmur into his skin as you settle, closing your eyes. You plant a couple of small kisses on his chest.

"Yo tambien te amo, hermosa." Frankie whispers, his fingers dancing slowly in your hair as you finally drift off into an exhausted sleep inside of the Devil’s arms.

I really hope you got a spooky kick out this story. I'd love to know your thoughts and I hope you enjoyed reading it on this Halloween Fright Night. 🖤🎃

🎃 Re-blogs & comments fuel me! TY!💀

MASTERLIST

547 notes · View notes

proxima-writes · 6 months

Text

pairing: cult leader!joel miller x virgin!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 8.6k

summary:

You think you’re as good as dead when a band of raiders find you. In what you think are your final moments, an angel appears.

His name is Joel Miller, and he is here to deliver you from evil.

author's note: a huge thank you to my fellow cultist @atinylittlepain for listening to me scream about this. without them, we'd probably be on version 5 of this story. and to everyone who has been excited about this, i hope you enjoy!

warnings: DARK CONTENT - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, dub-con: power dynamics, dub-con: cult mentality, age difference - 60M and 27F, explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), no use of y/n, dual POV, post-outbreak, canon divergence, canon typical violence (knife wounds, gun shot wounds, numerous mentions of blood), minor character death(s), blood cult ceremonies, religious themes, possessive behavior, emotional manipulation, loss of virginity, oral sex - f receiving, vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v, cum play, dirty talk, pet names, praise, joel really has a loose screw ok? if there are any tags missing, please let me know!

“I don’t think you should go out there by yourself,” you say, watching as your dad inspects his gun. He looks up at you with a pained expression.

“I gotta see where we should head next. I don’t want to lead you out in the wrong direction, accidentally get you in a bad spot,” he says. “I’ll be fine, buttercup.”

There’s a heaviness that settles in your stomach at his words. He sounds confident enough, but his eyes tell a different story, expose his fear. He stands with a sigh, a wince of pain washing over his face.

“Maybe I should—“

“No,” he interrupts. “I’m going. I won’t be gone long, okay? We can’t stay here forever. Who knows what’s out there in the forest.”

That’s exactly what you’re afraid of. At least inside the rotted cabin you stumbled across you could pretend you were safe. The forest is alive in a way you’ve never experienced growing up in a QZ surrounded with barbed wire and steel. You hear the snap of twigs and the howl of wolves, or the flutter of wings and the call of birds, and sometimes you think you feel the weight of eyes watching you if you venture out too far in your exploration.

“We’ve made it this far. We got out of Denver and that was half the battle,” your dad says. “You got your knife, right? And enough rations.”

You nod, swallowing around the lump in your throat. He kisses your forehead, dry lips lingering on your skin. You have an aching feeling this is a goodbye, some sinking intuition that he’s making a mistake that you can’t correct.

“Be back soon. I love you.”

Joel’s been keeping an eye on the people in the woods for the last three days. There was chatter on one of the radio stations that the Denver QZ was facing an uprising and he knows that once those walls come down, the survivors that venture out are bound to stumble across his town.

The cabin door opens and the man steps out, venturing into the forest. Joel waits to see if his female companion follows, but the door remains shut. He longs to see you, the girl who’s image has been burned into his brain since his first glimpse, but he has a duty to fulfill first.

He walks quickly and quietly through the forest, sure feet catching up with the man less than a mile from where he’d started. Joel clears his throat.

The man turns, fumbling with a gun that he clearly has no experience using, pointing it at Joel with shaking hands and shouting, “Move and I’ll shoot!”

“You lost?” Joel asks, holding his hands up and keeping his face trained in a mask of concern. “Lookin’ for somethin’?”

After a pause, the man seeming to have concluded that Joel isn't a threat, he says, “My daughter and I…we escaped the Denver QZ."

"That must've been difficult."

"We....we're running out of food," he continues, dropping his arms, limbs hanging heavy at his sides. "I-I don't know what else to do, man."

Gun no longer pointed at his face, Joel approaches the man, stopping when he's within arms reach. Up close, he can see the dismal state the guy is in -- sunken cheeks and bloodshot eyes, tattered clothing hanging on a thin frame. Joel places a hand on his bony shoulder.

"I can help you," he says. The man looks up, a brief glimmer of hope flashing in his eyes. Joel watches the slow realization, the way his brain catches up to what's just happened, a choked noise spilling from his dry lips.

Joel tugs his knife from the man's gut and steps back, watching as he collapses to the ground. Desperate hands smear the blooming red stain across his abdomen. Joel circles the man, positioning himself at his back, and pulls him close with a hand slapped over his mouth.

"I'll take good care of her," he whispers before dragging his knife across his neck in one clean slice. The man twitches once before growing limp and Joel releases him, body hitting the forest floor with a dull thud. Not one to waste, Joel gathers anything of use from his person.

Something catches the light against his neck. Curious, Joel tugs the bloodstained neck of his t-shirt to the side, finding a silver chain. He pulls, revealing the length of it.

A cross.

The clasp snaps with a sharp tug and Joel stuffs it in his pocket. Standing and shouldering his bag once more, he begins his walk back towards the cabin.

You're running as fast as your legs will carry you, lungs and limbs burning with the effort. You made the mistake of not listening to your dad when he'd told you stay where you were, to stay hidden, that he'd come back. Your nerves had gotten the best of you and you decided that you would catch up with him, but you didn't know which direction he'd gone. You figured you would travel a little ways and see if you could find him and if you didn't do so quickly, you'd rush back to the cabin and wait, just as he told you.

That's when the men saw you, two large figures with rifles that reminded you of FEDRA soldiers slung across their backs.

You duck behind a thick tree to catch your breath. You can hear voices calling out through the forest above the rush of blood in your ears, taunting tones carrying through the air.

"C'mon out, pretty girl!"

You chance a peek out from your hiding spot, only catching a brief glimpse of one man through the trees.

"Where ya hidin', sweet thing?"

His voice sounds far away and that gives you the courage to move forward, a tentative dash for another tree.

“I might be nicer to ya if you just come on out, but if I have to hunt ya down…well…you know what a hunter does to its prey, don’tcha?”

You press your hand over your mouth, muffling the cry that claws its way up your throat. You start to run again, faster, not caring if he can hear you so long as you're able to maintain that distance, hoping that if you can outrun them for long enough, he'll just give up and then maybe you can find your--

You crash into something, the world sliding out from under you and the breath rushing from your lungs as you land on your back with a pained shout. A hand wraps around your ankle, pulling you across the rough ground before you have the chance to recover.

"Gotcha," a man says, the voice different from the one that had been taunting you before. A figure stands over you, a foot on either side of your hips, looking down at you with a sinister smile. "Pretty little prize, huh?"

You twist your body, scrambling away from him. He laughs, following after you with unhurried strides.

“Now, don’t play hard to get,” he admonishes. A hand wraps around your ankle and he drags you toward him, kicking and screaming. Your foot connects with some fleshy part of him and he curses.

“You little fuckin’ cunt,” he hisses, dropping your foot. He kicks you, heavy boot colliding with soft flesh and bone, a sharp pain blossoming in your side, shooting down to your very marrow. You curl in on yourself, wounded prey trying to protect its most vulnerable parts.

A shot rings out, the sound startling in the relative quiet of the forest. You sit up, sudden movement making you light headed, and it takes you a long moment to register the scene before you.

The man that had been chasing you, the one that had caught you, the one that had hurt you on the surface but planned to do far worse, lies on the ground, eyes wide open but unseeing. Above him stands your savior, an older man with gray streaked dark curls and tan skin, broad shoulders and hard brown eyes. He reminds you of a painting you saw once in a book your dad owned, long before the outbreak.

“Death On A Pale Horse,” he explained when you showed him the painting that caught your eye. “Based on the Book of Revelations. You remember that one, right?”

“Yeah.”

“This one,” — he pointed to the central figure, a dark creature on a white horse — “is Death. And this one” — he pointed to a figure on the right that rides a dark brown horse, the dark colors making him blend among the horrors breaking from the sky behind him — “would be famine. You can see the emaciated man below him.”

“What about the other two?” You asked.

“The one of the red horse would be war.”

You pointed to the remaining figure, a man with dark curls and a determined expression. “And the white horse?”

Your dad paused. “Conquest. Pestilence. The Antichrist. The first horseman of the apocalypse.”

The man before you today looks like that figure on the white horse and despite his choice to rescue you from one horror, you fear he may be something far worse.

The man kneels and you flinch away from him. He sighs and says, “I ain’t goin’ to hurt you.”

“Who are you?” You ask, voice weak, throat on fire.

“My name is Joel,” he says. “I want to help you.”

“How do I know you weren’t with those other guys?” Your eyes grow wide and you rush to stand on shaky legs. “Wait, there’s another—“

“He won’t be an issue,” Joel assures you, wrapping a steadying arm around your waist. “C’mon.”

“I can’t—“

“Men like those two ain’t the only things in the forest to worry about, and I’m afraid we can’t sit around and find out. That gun shot could send a horde runnin’.”

“Wait!” You snap, pulling out of his grasp. He holds his hands up, as if in surrender, or maybe like he’s approaching a wounded animal. You’re not sure which. “My dad is out there. H-he went to figure out where to go from here. We were in a cabin…” Your voice trails off. “I told him I would wait for him.”

Joel’s eyes are soft as he says, “We need to get ourselves to safety. I can send someone out to look for your dad first thing in the mornin’.”

“Send someone?”

“There’s a group of us, down in the valley. Survivors, like you.”

“Really?” Relief washes over you, eclipsing even the ache in your belly and the burn in your throat and the pain in your muscles. “How far?”

“With the state you’re in, probably about a two hour hike.”

You don’t have much choice but to go with him, do you?

“Okay.”

“Where’re you comin’ from?” Joel asks, glancing over his shoulder at you. You’ve been following quietly behind him, head down and eyes fixed on the ground.

“Denver,” is all you offer in response. He knew that much already. He wants to know more.

Maybe he has to give more first.

“‘M from Texas, originally. Was in a QZ in Boston for a while before makin’ my way out here.”

“Why’d you come out here?” You ask.

“Had a friend once tell me, ‘Save who you can save’,” he says.

“What does that mean?” You ask.

“You’ll see.”

Joel had mentioned survivors, but you're shocked to discover that just past a wooden sign proclaiming WELCOME TO CRESTONE in chipped yellow paint, a whole town is tucked away, surrounded by a wooden gate that opens for you as you approach. You feel the weight of curious eyes as you walk through a town square, Joel's palm between your shoulder blades steering you towards a more residential area until you reach a two story adobe home.

Once inside, you’re led upstairs to a sparsely decorated bedroom, a large bed in the center with a faded quilt tucked around the mattress with precision and a dresser against one wall covered in yellowed wallpaper. Joel gestures for you to sit, kneeling on the wood floor in front of you to work on the laces of your sneakers.

“What—“

“You need rest,” he says, removing your shoes. He looks up at you, brown eyes full of concern. Your stomach flips.

“But—“

“No,” he says sternly. He stands and walks to the side of the bed, tugging the quilt free and folding it down. “I have duties to return to, but you’ll be safe here.”

You don’t have it in you to continue arguing. You haven’t seen a comfortable bed in more than two days and the exhaustion catches up to you in one fell swoop, eyes halfway to shut as you crawl into the space Joel’s made for you between the sheets. He pulls the covers over you, the warmth of a hand smoothing across your cheek the last thing you feel before falling asleep.

You wake to the sun high in the sky, streaming through the open window of a room that you don't recognize. You push yourself to sitting, your ribs protesting the movement and your head pulsing just behind your eyes. Your mouth is unbearably dry, so much so that you start coughing, further aggravating your bruised ribs.

"There's water on the nightstand," a voice says, startling you.

You look to your left, finding a young girl sitting in a wooden chair by your bed. Her dark hair is pulled back from her face, wayward pieces falling across pale skin. Her sharp brown eyes watch you with an intensity that makes your skin crawl.

“I’m Ellie,” she says. You mumble your own name.

“Did Joel save you?” Ellie asks.

“Uh—“

“He must have. That’s what he does,” she continues, cutting you off.

“Ellie!” A familiar deep voice calls out. Her eyes go wide and she scrambles from her seat, rushing for the door. Heavy footsteps climb the stairs, Joel appearing in the open doorway. He looks at her with a stern expression, mouth pressed in a thin line. “Thought I told you not to come up here.”

The look on her face isn’t fear, like her reaction would have led you to believe. No, she looks up at Joel with reverence as she says, “Sorry. Wanted to see her.”

Joel nods. “Head to the mess hall. I’ll bring her down shortly.”

Ellie casts a lingering look in your direction before disappearing through the doorway.

“Sorry about her,” Joel says. He takes a seat on the edge of the mattress. “How’re you feelin’?”

“Could be better,” you say honestly. “How long was I asleep for?”

“A little more than a day.”

Your eyes go wide. “My dad—“

“We’ve sent out a search party. No luck yet, I’m afraid,” he says. You curl into yourself a bit at the news, shoulders tight with worry. He reaches forward and places a hand on top of your own where it rests on the sheets. “You should get some food. I brought you some new clothes, too. I’ll let you get dressed and we can go down to the mess hall.“

He leaves the room before you respond and you drag the pile of clothes closer to you, finding a neatly folded t-shirt, jeans, underwear, and socks. It takes you a long moment to work your way out of your dirty clothes, your movements slow to not aggravate your injuries. You keep your bra on, pulling the clean shirt over your head, followed by the jeans. You're thrilled to be wearing something that's not caked with dirt and sweat.

You're working on putting your socks on when there's a knock at the door, Joel entering when you call out for him to come in. He smiles at you.

"There, that's better," he says. "C'mon. Let's get down to dinner."

You follow him out of the room and down the stairs. The first floor of the home has a kitchen that opens up to a living and dining area, the space filled with worn mismatched furniture. The walls are wood paneled and there's a massive stone fireplace with elk antlers mounted above it.

The sun is setting as you step outside and get your first real look at the town as its bathed in gold. Narrow residential streets give way to wider roads once you reach the town center, where commercial buildings are pressed together advertising long forgotten businesses, their windows dark.

"That's the butcher up there," Joel says, pointing to one of the wooden buildings. "He gets the meat from the traps prepped for us." He points to another building with a sign that says RESTAURANT. "That's the bakery."

"A butcher and a bakery?" You ask. "Do you have electricity here?"

"Sure do. Solar panels, just outside the gate."

You continue walking through the town until you come up on a large white building, people entering and exiting through a set of thick double doors. The shadow of a cross remains above the door, perhaps scorched by the sun where a crucifix once sat. People welcome Joel as he enters, heads turning in their curiosity. You press a little closer to Joel's side.

The large room is bursting with noise and activity -- a flurry of conversations, the clink of cutlery, and laughter. You've not seen anything like it before, the mentality in the QZ not conducive to camaraderie. You can count on one hand the number of people you would have considered friends within those walls, and even that was a stretch. You and Joel join a line of people retrieving plates of food from a single window.

"How long has all of this been here?" You ask, gesturing to the room. He looks around proudly.

"Ellie and I came across this town on accident after we went through hell leavin' Boston. The folks here set up their own quarantine zone and with bigger fish to fry, FEDRA sort of left ‘em alone. They were kind enough to take us in," he says. "After that, more people started showin' up lookin' for safety. Lots of people who escaped the QZs or had been on their own for a while and were tired of runnin'."

"Ellie says you save people," you comment, taking a step forward as the line moves. "What's that mean?"

"Every flock needs a shepherd."

You’re at the front of the line now, standing in front of the window. A woman appears, her face lighting up when she sees Joel.

“Joel! How are you?” She asks, leaning onto the ledge. Behind her you can see people moving quickly and efficiently around a stainless steel kitchen, large pots of food simmering on the stovetop.

“Well enough,” he says. He places a hand on your shoulder. “We have a new guest. Make her plate nice and full for me?”

“Of course.”

She gathers a plate from a precarious stack, loading it with a heaping pile of food ranging from mashed potatoes and stew to colorful vegetables that you haven’t seen in ages, not since before the outbreak when you were seven and your dad would make dinner rather than pass you a ration package. You’re speechless as she hands you the plate with a kind smile, a mumbled thank you the best you can manage to show your gratitude.

Joel is handed a plate as well and you follow him to a table where Ellie sits next to a man with white hair, her plate already empty in front of her. The man looks up at Joel as you approach, his expression closed off and wary.

“Michael,” Joel says in greeting, jaw ticking. You take a seat beside Ellie, who to your surprise moves closer to you, arm brushing yours. “You botherin’ Ellie?”

The man, Michael, shakes his head. “No, sir. We were just having a little talk.”

“What about?” Joel sits on the opposite side of the table. He rips his bread roll in half.

“Just some concerns I was having.”

“You bring your concerns to me. Not to her.”

The two men stare at each other, the tension thick and impossible to ignore. Finally, Michael gets up, leaving the table without another word. Ellie’s shoulder’s lose their tension and Joel catches her eye, the two of them seeming to have an entire conversation in just a look.

The moment passes and Joel’s features relax, a smile tilting the corners of his lips as he returns his attention to you and gestures to your plate.

“Dig in,” he says.

Joel walks you back to his home after dinner, the sky now dark. Ellie’s already closed herself in her room by the time the two of you return, having left the mess hall before you had finished eating.

“Tired again?” Joel asks when you yawn, mouth open wide as you stretch your arms above your head.

Your expression is sheepish as you say, “A little bit.”

“That’s to be expected,” he assures you. “You fought a hard fight. It’s okay to relax now. I’ve got you.”

“Thank you.” Your fingers tangle in the hem of the t-shirt he’d given you earlier. “I don’t know if I’ve said that already.”

“You’re welcome. Come on, let’s get you back upstairs. You can use the shower and get to bed.”

“Oh my god, a shower sounds amazing.”

He shows you the bathroom and helps you get the water running. Once he shows you where to find a towel, you smile gratefully before shutting the door on him.

Dismissed, Joel makes his way to Ellie’s room, knocking on the door. She answers quickly, opening up only enough for him to see her face.

“Yeah?” She asks.

“Can I come in?”

She rolls her eyes but opens the door further, allowing him inside. Her room is smaller than his but far more decorated, pages ripped out of old magazines and comic books tacked to the wall. She takes a seat on her single bed, folding her legs beneath her.

“What did Michael talk to you about?” He asks. She shrugs her shoulders. Joel bites back a sigh. Sometimes he forgets what it was like to reason with a teenage girl. “Ellie.”

“He said” — she pauses, scratching at her wrist in the way that she will when she’s anxious — “he said that you were full of shit. That your fucked up ceremony isn’t helping any of them.”

Joel’s teeth grind together. “That all?”

“Called me a stupid kid for following what you say,” she mumbles. “Said everyone in town was stupid for believing you.”

“Thank you for tellin’ me,” he says. Rage burns in his veins as he turns to leave.

“What are you gonna do?” Ellie asks as he reaches the door.

“I’m goin’ to teach him a lesson.”

He pulls the door shut behind him, tilting his head against the wood with a sigh. The click of a latch down the hall precedes your quiet, “Joel?”

Joel turns to face you, surprised to find you standing just outside the bathroom door with a towel tucked around your body. Water glistens on your skin in the low light, drawing his eyes down your neck and across your chest. He clears his throat.

“Everythin’ alright?” He asks.

“Yeah, everything is fine,” you murmur. “I…could I get some new clothes?”

“Of course, should’a given you some before you showered. Sorry about that.”

Joel walks past you, entering his bedroom and approaching the dresser. He tugs the top drawer open, full of clothing he’d gathered while you’d been asleep for more than a day. He piles together another t-shirt, sleep pants, and underwear, setting them on the bed for you.

You’re standing in the doorway when he finishes and he fights the urge to go to you, to pull you close, to run his wretched hands over your body like he’s wanted to since he first saw you in the forest.

He doesn’t, though. Not yet. You still have much to learn.

“Here you go,” he says. “Some more stuff in the drawers for you if you need it.”

Joel leaves you to get ready for bed, shutting the door behind him. He heads downstairs to grab what he’ll need, essentials shoved in a bag thrown over his shoulder before venturing off into the night.

Only a few lights continue to illuminate windows as Joel walks through the residential area. The house he approaches at the end of a street is already dark, quiet beyond the wood door that he knocks on three times. The door opens slowly, Michael appearing in the small space.

“What?” He grunts.

“Come take a walk,” Joel says. Michael rolls his eyes, moving to shut the door but Joel’s boot blocks his effort. “I ain’t askin’, Michael.”

“Oh, yeah? What are you going to do?” He challenges. Joel throws his weight against the door, catching Michael by surprise enough for him to step into the house.

Joel throws an elbow into the man’s gut, making him double over with a groan. He circles behind him, kicking the back of his knee to send him to the ground. He pulls a length of chain from his pocket, looping it around Michael’s neck and pulling the ends.

Michael struggles, clawing at the garotte and thrashing wildly, but Joel holds strong. He tightens his grip further until Michael’s fight becomes sluggish, lack of oxygen finally causing him to go limp.

Joel releases the chain and Michael’s body slumps to the ground. He removes his backpack, digging through the contents until he finds a rusted pair of handcuffs that he uses to bind Michael’s arms behind his back. Next, he places a strip of duct tape over his mouth.

When he wakes, Joel will lead him out past the gate. He will find an unassuming home that rests outside the boundary of Crestone. He will open the hidden doors of the cellar, the ones covered in a layer of leaves and grass. From the darkness he will hear the echo of desperate groans and the rattle of chains and the angry attempts to break free from bindings. He will lead Michael down the dirt steps, the smell of rot and fear and death clawing at his olfactory nerves.

He will place a burlap bag over a struggling Michael’s head and the man will beg and plead in words muffled by tape. Then, Joel will offer him for judgment.

A hand on you shoulder shakes you awake, the room still mostly dark when you manage to open your eyes. You groan, pulling the quilt up over your head.

“C’mon, we gotta get to breakfast,” Ellie says. The cover gets yanked down and she gives you a mischievous grin.

“Where’s Joel?” You ask, sitting up slowly. She shrugs.

“Probably there already.”

You swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand, stretching your arms up. You grab the same jeans and socks from the day before, changing into them quickly and sitting down on the floor to pull your sneakers on. Ellie watches you, her foot tapping impatiently.

“You can go without me if you’re in a rush,” you offer. She shakes her head.

“I’m fine,” she says quickly. “You ready?”

“Sure.”

You follow her out of the house, her clipped pace difficult to keep up with due to your lingering pain. As the sun starts to rise and you pass by more of the houses, you notice something peculiar about some of them.

“What’s that?” You ask, pausing in front of one the houses. There’s a streak of what looks like dark red paint across the top of the door. Ellie doubles back and stands beside you.

“Protection,” she says.

“From what?”

She shifts her weight from foot to foot, uncomfortable with your line of questioning. Rather than answer, she walks away, leaving you to catch up to her or be left behind.

As the two of you start to walk through the square, there’s a rush of people around you. Shouting can be heard up ahead as a crowd comes into view, gathered around the front of the mess hall building. People press in close together, craning their necks to see over each other and catch a glimpse of whatever spectacle has their attention.

Ellie pushes through the crowd and you follow close on her heels until she manages to break through the other side of the wall of people. You catch glimpses of something writhing on the ground, something animal but not quite, something failed and fetid and foul. Another peek affords you a view of an arm littered with bite marks shaped by blunt teeth, deep gouges into their skin that shine red with blood and fester with disease.

Joel appears, stepping around the side of the building. The whispers cease, the crunch of Joel’s boots and pained groans the only noise to be heard in the stale air.

His dark eyes scan the crowd. People shrink back from his gaze, pressing closer to each other for relief. He reaches down, curling his fingers into the burlap material and yanking it off to reveal a man, familiar and yet not recognizable. Unseeing eyes, ashen skin, and dark red veins now the hallmark characteristics of the man you now remember as the one who had been talking to Ellie in the dining hall.

Joel draws a gun from his back, aiming it at Michael’s head. “Let this be a lesson,” he says, pulling the trigger.

The shot rings out, making you jump. The agonized sounds come to abrupt halt and his body goes limp, eyes still open as blood blooms on the ground around him.

“No blood spilled. No blood saved,” Joel says. You look up from the horrible scene and meet his hard gaze. You step back, turning and shoving your way through the crowd.

Then, you run.

You’re frantically shoving clothing into your bag when a door slams downstairs and heavy footsteps climb the stairs at a quick pace. You can feel the burn of Joel's eyes on your back, his presence in the room thick and cloying as you refuse to turn around, even when he murmurs your name.

He moves closer, a hand on your shoulder prompting you to turn to break the connection. He holds his hands up in surrender, taking a step back as he says, "Let me explain."

"Explain? Explain?! How the fuck do you explain that?!" You snap.

"If you'll just listen--"

"There's nothing you could possibly say that will--"

"Ellie is immune!" He shouts. Your words die on the tip of your tongue, lost to ether as you stare at Joel.

"W-what do you mean? Immune?" You ask.

He takes a deep breath. "I told you what my friend said. 'Save who you can save'. The first person I saved was Ellie."

"I helped her out of Boston, kept her safe, nearly lost my life if it meant keepin' her alive," He continues. "That's what I offer here."

"So you think you're....what? Some kind of god? That you can grant immunity?"

He huffs a laugh, the noise devoid of any humor. "God abandoned his worst experiment in their time of need. There is no god anymore, just the poor creatures he left behind. Someone had to take up the mantle."

"But how?"

"The ceremony," he says.

"That’s not a fucking answer, Joel!” You shout. “What fucking ceremony?!”

“Blood spilled for blood saved. You can’t make it in this world without givin’ your everythin’ first.” He lifts the bottom of his shirt, just enough to reveal a jagged scar to the right of his belly button, shiny scar tissue disrupting smooth tan skin. “I did this for Ellie. Now everyone else has to do it for themselves.”

“I don’t…I don’t understand.” You take a small step closer to inspect the wound, raising your hand and reaching out with a tentative touch. Joel inhales sharply as you run your fingers across the puckered flesh.

His hand wraps around your wrist, pulling your hand up and holding it against his chest. “It’ll be easier to show you, okay? There’s a ceremony in a couple days.”

“I don’t—“

“You’re just afraid because this is somethin’ new, but I promise you that you got nothin’ to be scared of. I’ll take care of you.” He lifts a hand to your face, tilting your chin with his thumb. “I just need you to trust me.”

His eyes are honest, earnest, pleading with you to believe him and the longer you search them, the more truth you seem to find. He will take care of you. You just know it.

“Okay.”

Dinner is served early on the day of the ceremony, the room buzzing with excited conversation. You haven’t seen Joel much the last few days, just passing glimpses, and Ellie says it’s because he has a lot to prepare for. Tonight there’s a woman at his side wearing a white dress that flows to the floor, black hair braided down her back. She smiles at Joel, hanging on every word you can’t hear. It makes your stomach clench in a weird way when her hand curls around his bicep and her head leans against his shoulder.

“That’s Marcy. She’s volunteered for the ceremony,” Ellie says. She’s sitting across from you, a smirk on her lips. “S’why she’s been hanging around Joel the last few days. Joel’s gotta prepare her.”

“Oh,” is all you manage to reply, picking at the vegetables on your plate. “What does…what does he do? To prepare her.”

She shrugs. “Dunno.”

You glance at the pair. Joel leans in close to the woman, whispering into her ear. Your fingernails dig into the meat of your palm, your hands curled into tight fists beneath the table. He stands, a hand on the woman’s shoulder as he calls the people to attention, voices fading until silence envelops the room.

“Tonight,” Joel says, “another is to be saved. And we will all bear witness to the gift of deliverance that only self-sacrifice can grant.”

It’s only a few words, but the power in them is palpable as you glance around the room at the entire town watching him with rapt attention. His eyes meet yours.

“Save who you can save,” he intones. A chill runs down your spine.

“Save who you can save,” the town echoes back.

The sun is already low on the horizon, twilight casting a soft glow on the scene. You stand at the back of the crowd, watching as Joel leads Marcy onto a raised wooden platform. Another man joins them, passing something wrapped in cloth into Joel’s outstretched hands.

“The thing about the world today,” Joel says, unwrapping the cloth to reveal a large knife, “is that there ain’t a single guarantee.” He looks out over the crowd. “Except here, within these walls. Why? Because here you’ll make the greatest sacrifice and earn the greatest reward.”

He begins to pace the length of the platform, knife in hand. “Givin’ your blood in exchange for your safety? That doesn’t sound so bad, right?” The people around you nod their heads in agreement. “You’ve seen what that sacrifice can do. I did it for Ellie. I did it for myself. And tonight—“ he places a hand on Marcy’s shoulder “—another has made the choice to earn that gift of protection.”

A cheer erupts, spreading through the crowd through shouts and applause. You find yourself joining them, clapping your hands together as you continue to watch Joel.

“Marcy,” Joel says. “What brings you here today?”

“No blood spilled, no blood saved,” she recites dutifully.

“Are you afraid?” He asks.

“No,” she says.

“Why?”

“Because I trust in your protection.”

Joel smiles at her, beaming with pride, and that knot in your stomach from earlier returns with a vengeance. You want him to look at you like that.

He stands in front of her, blocking her from view with his body. A hush falls over the crowd and from the silence erupts an anguished scream. You flinch, the sound piercing and painful and petrifying, though it seems to have taken nobody else by surprise.

Another scream as he jerks his arm back, the knife in his hand now stained with red that slides down the blade, dripping to the wood beneath his feet. He steps to the side and you can see the woman now, her hands pressed to her belly. Crimson blooms beneath her hands, marring her pretty white dress and leaching the color and vitality from her face. She drops to her knees and so does Joel, who wraps an arm around her shoulders and gently guides her until she’s lying on her back. He holds her hand and smooths her hair from her face as she just repeats, “Thank you.”

Slowly, the strength in her voice fades. Her arm goes limp in his grasp, dropping to the floor with a dull thud as her eyes flutter shut. Joel whistles sharply, three men rushing up the platform and lifting the girl into their arms, careful not to jostle her too much. Joel remains kneeling, his head turning to scan the crowd.

“We are born covered in blood,” he says. “It gives you protection from the outside world when you’re wrenched from the womb. And it will protect you now as it is wrenched from you.”

He steps off the platform and walks past the crowd, heading for the residential street. Everyone shuffles forward, moving en masse like sheep following their shepherd or cattle to the slaughter. You’re led to one of the smaller homes and you watch as Joel smooths the flat of the blade across his hand, gathering blood in his palm.

He places his palm on the door, smearing the blood across the faded blue paint. When he’s done, he turns to face the crowd.

“Marcy has earned her protection. Those of you among us that have not yet made your sacrifice, may you return home this evenin’ and realize that each passin’ day is a wasted opportunity for your salvation.” His serious expression softens as he smiles. “No blood spilled.”

“No blood saved,” the crowd says.

To your surprise, the words fall easily from your lips.

Joel shuts the door quietly behind him. He’s just finished checking on Marcy and was pleased to find that her wound has been dressed and she’s recovering well. At the kitchen sink he runs the water as hot as he can tolerate and scrubs his hands clean.

He can hear faint footsteps upstairs, the sound of your pacing back and forth in his bedroom. He’s pleased that you stayed through the entire ceremony, didn’t run away filled with fear or disgust like you had watching him make an example out of Michael.

There’s hope for you yet.

Joel dries his hands on a towel and heads upstairs. He glances at Ellie’s room out of habit, though he knows it’s empty. She likes to help out after the ceremony, usually sticking beside the town nurse, Shelly, as she monitors the person who participated in the ceremony over night.

The door to his bedroom is shut but he can see that the light is on, the glow of it seeping out from the gap beneath the door. He knocks, three sharp raps of his knuckles, and waits.

You pull the door open, and Joel is once again struck by how much he wants you, how much he’s craved you since the first time he saw you. You look up at him with wide eyes but he doesn’t sense any fear as you pull the door open further and step back to let him enter.

“You doin’ okay?” He asks, shutting the door quietly behind him. You’re standing with your arms wrapped around yourself, nodding quietly. Joel moves closer, tentatively reaching out to tilt your chin up so that he’s looking into your eyes. “Talk to me.”

“I….,” your voice trails off. You take a breath. “I want that protection.”

He was hoping you would say that. Relief floods through him.

“I can’t do that,” he says. Your brows pinch together, hurt flashing across your features. “I won’t have your blood on my hands.”

“But—“

“Listen to me—“ his hands frame your face, thumbs smoothing over the high points of your cheeks “—you’re meant for somethin’ different here.”

“Something different?” You repeat. You shake your head slightly. “I don’t understand.”

“From the moment I saw you, I knew I couldn’t let you lose a drop,” he whispers. “You don’t need to bleed, sweetheart. Not like them. I’ll protect you myself.”

Your mouth drops open the slightest bit, drawing Joel’s gaze. He slides his thumb across your bottom lip, mesmerized by the softness of it. There’s not much about his life the last twenty or so years that he would call soft.

There was his brother, Tommy, even though they couldn’t see eye to eye and had to part ways. His daughter, Sarah, before the outbreak. She took care of him, made sure he took his vitamins and packed his lunch and didn’t miss a parent-teacher conference. She was light and joy, his heart outside of his body, and she was ripped from his grasp.

There was Tess, who was not a soft person but was a soft place to land among the carnage. Bill, ornery though he was, and Frank, arguably his better half. They were a breath of normalcy, even when Bill had a gun trained on him. Ellie, once she quit being a pain in the ass and wormed her way into his heart with her promise to follow him wherever he went.

And now there was you.

“Will you let me do that?” Joel asks. “Protect you?”

You lift your hands, delicate fingers wrapping around his wrists. He wonders if you can feel the rapid beat of his heart, his pulse pounding beneath your grip. Finally, after a long moment, you whisper, “Yes.”

Joel captures your lips with his, swallowing your gasp of surprise. You’re tentative, a bit clumsy with your movements as you kiss back and he pulls away, leaning his forehead to yours.

“I-I’m sorry,” you murmur. “I’ve never—“

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

While his words don’t stop your pulse from racing, they do calm your nerves the slightest bit. It’s not that you’ve never been interested in sex, there was just never a good opportunity. Going through puberty in an apocalypse where a militant government faction monitors your every move in exchange for basic necessities wasn’t exactly conducive to forming intimate relationships.

While you’re lost in your thoughts, Joel moves you backwards until your legs hit the mattress and he urges you to sit down. He kneels in front of you, working on the laces of your sneakers, removing them and setting them to the side. He looks up at you as he removes your socks and you’re not sure if you're supposed to find the sight of him kneeling at your feet as sexy as you do, but a rush of warmth rolls through you all the same.

He runs his palms up your legs, across your thighs, until his fingertips find the waist of your jeans, popping the button of the fly and pulling the zipper down.

“Lift your hips a bit, sweetheart,” he says, working the denim down and off your legs, tossing them aside. His hands return to your thighs, goosebumps erupting along their path to your hips.

“No one’s touched you here?” He asks, here being the soft skin of your inner thigh that his thumbs sweep across. You shake your head. He moves higher, a featherlight touch over the elastic of your underwear that makes you gasp. “What about here?”

“N-no,” you manage to whisper. He smiles at you, the same proud smile he’d given Marcy that you were so desperate to have for yourself.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. He kisses the inside of your knee quickly before sitting up higher, reaching up to lift your shirt up, tugging it over your head and dropping it onto the growing pile of your clothing.

“Lie back for me,” Joel commands. You shift up the mattress and follow his instruction, bringing your arms up to cover your exposed breasts. He makes a dissatisfied click with his tongue, pulling your arms away as he crawls up the mattress to settle between your legs.

“None of that,” he admonishes, planting your hands by your head. He kisses your lips again, butterflies erupting in your stomach when his tongue tangles with yours, hot and demanding. He palms one of your breasts, hands rough on the delicate skin. “This is mine, do you understand?”

Joel brings his mouth to your breast, tongue swirling over your stiff nipple. You cry out, the foreign sensation making more heat rush through you, leaving you throbbing between your thighs. He looks up at you through his lashes as he sucks your nipple between his lips, releasing it with a lewd pop.

“Mine to touch,” he says, leaning on one arm to trail his fingers down your stomach. “Mine to kiss.” His lips trace the same heated path. “Mine to protect.”

When he reaches your underwear, he pulls back. “Look at that,” he murmurs, thumb rubbing across the gusset, making you whimper and squirm. “You’ve soaked your panties, sweetheart.”

Your face feels hot with embarrassment. “‘M sorry,” you mumble.

“Sorry? Ain’t nothin’ you need to be sorry about,” he says with a chuckle. He sits up, working your only remaining barrier between you down your legs. He spreads your legs with his hands on your thighs. “Goddamn, you look so pretty, baby.”

“Really?” You ask. His answering grin is wolfish.

“So pretty,” he repeats. He settles on his belly, face so close to your pussy you can feel the warmth of his breath against your heated flesh. “Gotta get you ready.”

Your response to the question is cut off with a high pitched moan as Joel runs his tongue through your folds, circling your clit with broad strokes. You try to close your legs against the sensation but his strong hands keep your thighs pinned down near the mattress.

He groans as he sets a slow and measured pace, alternating attention to your clit with dipping his tongue inside of you, dragging your essence from the source. Your hands clench in the sheets, chasing and retreating from the overwhelming sensation in equal measure.

There’s a blunt pressure that turns into a slight pinch as Joel slips a finger into your tight heat. Your head tilts back with a high keening noise and you’re panting, desperate for breath as he moves his hand in tandem with his tongue.

One finger becomes two that thrust and curl and part inside of you, stretching you in unfamiliar ways. It feels good, and all you want is more, more, more.

Joel’s hand moves quickly and he sucks on your clit, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bundle of nerves until that flood of relief that you’ve only accomplished a handful of times on your own washes over you, your back arching sharply off the mattress as you shout his name like a prayer to the heavens.

His motions slow to a stop and he leaves the bed. You hear the clink of a belt and the rustle of clothing being removed before his weight returns between your legs, a new heat to be felt against your flushed skin with his clothes no longer in the way. With shaky hands you reach up to touch him, starting at his shoulders.

You trail your hands across his warm tan skin, down his hard chest and softer belly. That scar, the one that frightened you before, leaves you breathless as you run your fingers over it now. He’s so strong, so powerful, and he wants you. Wants to protect you so that you don’t know that same pain.

“Joel,” you whisper. He leans forward, hands on the mattress beside your head. He kisses you, slow and all encompassing. You can feel the hard length of his sliding through the mess he’s made of you and you gasp.

“Let me make one thing clear,” he says, face serious, “there ain’t any goin’ back from this. You’re mine. You got that?”

“I trust you,” you reply. Your response earns you a deep groan from the man, a kiss to your forehead that precedes the blunt head of his cock pressing to your soaked entrance.

His cock is thicker, much thicker, than his fingers were and you whine at the intrusion. His shushes you, peppering your face with soothing kisses.

“I don’t think—“

“You’re doin’ so good, sweetheart, I know you can handle it,” Joel says. “Take a deep breath, just a little more.”

Tension gives way, a sharp pinch that turns into an ache as Joel presses his hips firmly against yours. He kisses your neck and trails his nose across your sweat damp skin, holding still as you adjust to his girth.

You shift your hips the slightest bit and Joel’s moan echoes your gasp. “Tell me I can move,” he begs, another desperate kiss pressed to your lips. “Please, baby.”

There’s something heady about the power you have in this brief moment, a man like Joel begging you for something when he’s used to having everything. You nod and that’s all the encouragement he needs to draw back slowly, that fullness leaving you inch by inch, before thrusting sharply.

It’s unlike any experience you’ve had before — the way his body moves with yours, the flex of his muscles above you, the intense look in his eyes each time he presses inside of you.

“Made for me,” he murmurs. “Mine.”

“Yours,” you agree, moaning as each drag of his cock presses against a tender spot inside of you that has your stomach tightening rapidly.

His effort doubles, hips slamming hard enough to make the headboard bang against the wall. You dig your nails into his back, watch the clench of his jaw against the sting, and moan his name as you succumb to the feeling of free falling into bliss, clenching around his cock.

“That’s it, sweetheart, fuck,” he growls, hips stilling against yours as warmth pulses inside of you, his mouth dropped open on a groan of your name.

Joel takes a moment to catch his breath before withdrawing from you. He reaches his hand between your legs, pressing his fingers into your swollen pussy as you gasp.

He holds those fingers up, the light catching on the red staining them.

Perhaps you’d spilled blood for your safety after all.

You wake to the early morning light filtering through the window, a noticeable ache between your legs as you begin to stir. You’re naked, having fallen asleep in Joel’s arms last night, his lips caressing your neck until you’d drifted off and dreamt of blood and wolves. You stretch your limbs, encountering only cold sheets as you do.

As you sit up, you realize the sound of rushing water is the shower and surmise that Joel must be in there. With stiff movements you leave the warmth of the bed and approach the dresser, tugging open the top drawer to find clothing for the day.

You’re reaching for underwear when your fingers catch on something cold, metal in a sea of fabric. You pull on the object, unearthing it from its hiding spot and holding it up for inspection.

A cross, hanging from a silver chain. A chain you would tangle your fingers in as a child, a cross that a thumb would rub across as a deep, familiar voice muttered prayers.

The shower turns off and you take one last look at the crucifix before setting it back into the dark corner you’d unearthed it from.

Then, you shut the drawer.

Joel Miller masterlist

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel tlou #no use of y/n #joel x reader #dark content #cult leader!joel miller #cw age gap #cw dubcon #cw age difference #dark!joel miller #dark!joel x reader #dark joel miller

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hellishjoel · 6 months

Text

scream queen

6.6k / pairing: ghostface!joel miller x f!reader

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summary: A stalker outside your window at night forces you to beg for your life in more ways than one. You do what it takes because you're a survivor. And you kind of like the mask on. A/N: please heed these warnings, as they can be triggering for some individuals. No one is forcing you to read this, and if it sounds unappealing, please keep scrolling. This is far different from what I usually post, but I’m feeling spooky and have rewatched the entire Scream franchise in 72 hours. Indented chat means ghostface’s voice changer is on. Thank you to Emmie @hyzer34 for the FREAKING AMAZING ghostface!joel edits!

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), horror, dark ghostface!joel, dubious consent (dubcon via manipulation/guilt/survival), reader has a boyfriend (what a drag) so I guess cheating/infidelity, swearing, taunting/stalker behavior, masked anonymous individual, strip show to save a life, male masturbation, threat of violence/death, begging for life, manhandling, spanking, rough oral (face fucking)(m!receiving), pet names, praise kink, degradation kink, clit smacking (?), life-threatening knifeplay, unprotected sex (p in v), the mask stays on ladies, plot twist ending? very barely edited heads-up

You gasp shakily as his hand carefully caresses your tit, thumb featherlight over your nipple, before he cups and lightly squeezes your juicy flesh. You swallow down a lump and cower before him. You’re afraid for when he goes lower what he might find, how your slick is dampening your thighs, and your clit is pulsating for him. You need him. It’s sick, gross, disgusting, but you need him. “Please, Mr.,” you trail off, unsure of what to call him. “Ghostface.” He aids, and you quickly nod as your lips part. Your worst fear is coming true as his calloused hand and rough fingertips guide themselves further down the soft skin of your stomach and to your panties. “Please, Mr. Ghostface, I’ll do whatever you want me to do.” You can’t help but feel tears welling in your eyes once more. The masked man sighs and slowly shakes his head in shame. “I don’t think it’s about what I want to do to you. But what you want me to do to you.”

It was a quiet fall evening. You sat on your boyfriend’s couch, ankles crossed along the extent of the cushions as you leafed through what was available on different streaming services. You wanted something spooky for Halloween but not something that would over-excite your imagination while alone. You’re wearing the same thing he left you in, red panties and an oversized black tee you had snagged from his closet.

You figure your boyfriend should be home soon, so you start a bag of popcorn in the microwave. You sit up on the counter and kick your feet gently against the cabinets as you watch the time tick down, listening to each pop as it slowly rattles up its pace.

Your phone’s ring catches your attention back in the living room. You assume it’s your boyfriend as you hop off the counter and swipe it from the arm of the chair.

Unknown Caller

With a roll of your eyes, your tongue rutting out against your cheek, you deny the call. Probably a wrong number or an asshole troll since Halloween was nearing. You’re about to turn back to the kitchen, hearing the popcorn bag rattling with intensity when your phone goes off again.

Stopped in your tracks, you watch your phone buzz with uncertainty as the screen flashes with the Unknown Caller tag once more.

All of a sudden, the air is tight in your lungs, and your body is riddled with goosebumps. Now you were annoyed. You slid across the call button and pushed the phone to your ear.

“You have the wrong number. Stop fucking calling me.” You jam the blaring red end call button before huffing and returning to your popcorn.

The timer slowly counts down, but each pop from the bag makes you jump. 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

Your body jolts as you hear something pound against the windows, throwing yourself back against the counter with wide eyes.

“What the fuck!” You gasp as you rotate your head, searching from open window to open window where the banging was coming from. But there was nothing. No one. Your heart rate is slowly increasing, you can feel it jumping in your wrist and your neck.

Your feet quickly skid across the room, locking the house’s back door before running back towards the front entrance, flicking the lock in place. Even if it was nothing, at least you were safe.

Standing still in the entryway, you observed the home to be dead quiet. Your fears were still nesting on your shoulders, that you weren’t alone.

Your phone rings again, causing you to jump from the silence you had grown used to. With a distasteful grimace, you glance around as you walk towards your phone. You accept the call with hesitancy.

“Who is this?” You ask, already maneuvering around the house and shutting all the curtains and blinds in your wake. “Whoever the hell you are, just stop fucking calling me.” You try not to let the panic that’s sitting in your throat be exposed over the phone. Whoever has called you hasn’t spoken yet.

“Hello?” You ask, pausing in the kitchen as you finish your rounds around the first floor.

“Now that is how you answer a phone call.” The voice isn’t familiar, it’s almost… animatronic? It didn’t sound like a person, but the languidness of their voice was all too human. It was low, primal.

Now, you’ve seen these movies before, you weren’t an idiot, and you weren’t going to be one tonight.

“What are you going to ask me? What’s my favorite scary movie?” You taunt, yanking the microwave door open and retrieving the piping hot bag of popcorn from inside, sucking in a harsh breath as your fingertips branded red from the heat.

The voice on the line laughs. It’s almost sinister, not at all comforting. You’re not even sure why you’re entertaining this jackass who’s calling you when all they’ve done so far is giggle at your expense.

“How did you even get this number, you fucking troll?” You probe, frowning as you squeeze your phone between your cheek and shoulder as you pry open the popcorn bag. Of course, it bursts, sending a few pieces scattered around the kitchen. You simply roll your eyes and sigh at the inconvenience.

“Why don’t you be a good girl and clean up the mess you made?”

You squat down to pick up the kernels you dropped, only realizing the extent of what the voice said a moment later. Your eyes widen, and your chest surges with panic. You look around, but all the windows are closed and covered. Was that just a lucky guess, or is someone watching you?

Out of instinct, you reach for the knife block on the kitchen counter and yank out the biggest one. The blade gleams silver in the light, and you realize how exposed you are.

You set down the knife on the counter and quickly move around the house, shutting off the lights and concealing you in a dim darkness.

“What happened to the show? Why did the curtain close?” The low, sinister voice asks, and you whimper quietly in your hand to conceal your fear. “I liked watching you walk around,” he pauses, and all you can hear is your heart pounding, “in those red little panties.”

You hate to admit that this flicks a nasty switch in you, chased and taunted, talked down to by an unknown figure. As much as you’re scared, a small churning begins low in your tummy, and you clench your thighs tighter together.

With a shaky breath, you nibble on your lower lip and slowly move towards the front windows. You slowly peek them open, seeing nothing but your reflection and darkness.

“Can you see me?” You ask nervously, licking at your lower lip.

“Ahhh, there she is.” The voice praises, forcing you to swallow a lump down your throat. “Push those curtains open all the way. Want to see all of you.” You shiver, and the pooling in your panties only becomes more urgent. Someone’s watching you, and they like what they see.

Following the anonymous caller’s instructions, you slowly push open the curtains, your body backlist by a dim light still on in the kitchen. The voice hums in appreciation.

You blame it on your state of panic for not thinking clearly or logically for that manner. This creep wanted you, you could hear the slight desperation clinging to their voice.

“Promise me you won’t fuckin’ harm me, and I-I’ll put on a show for you. Isn’t that what you want? You said you liked my panties.” You breathily point out, opting to put the phone on speakerphone and setting it down on the bench in front of the now curtain-drawn windows.

The voice on the other line hums, pondering your offer. A shiver rolls over your spine as you subconsciously cross your arms in front of your body, scared and nerve-wracked.

“You have a gorgeous body. Let me see it. All of it.” The voice echoes within the quiet home, and you blink back the fear that is resting heavily on your chest. You take in a shaky breath and do as you are told.

Your hands go to the hem of your top, about to lazily toss it off when you are tsk tsk-ed at. You frown and quickly pull the t-shirt back down.

“Not like that!” The voice barks, angry and condescending, making you whimper. The voice pauses and takes a breath. “Slower.”

“Slower..” you whisper back, hearing the voice hum. You still couldn’t see outside, merely darkness and your reflection. You were fucking terrified, but if this was what they wanted, just maybe they’d let you be.

You try again. Your hands slowly start at the sides of your neck, pretty and dainty fingers cascading down to your clavicle. You push one hand into the hair at the back of your neck, lightly ruffling the strands while the other skims lower to more dangerous territory.

The heel of your palm skirts down the front of your shirt until your fingers flitter over the hem of your panties.

It feels stupid what you’re doing, but it makes you feel alive. Your heart has never beat faster. You’ve never turned on a complete stranger, stalker, even. You were in control of the show here.

You’re not exactly sure what to look at in the window, so you admire the reflection. You hum sweetly as you hook your thumbs into the tops of your panties. You loop them around, from front to back, stopping at the sides and lightly pushing down to show glimpses of your hips.

The breathing on the other end shuffles. It almost makes you stop.

“This turn you on?” You ask. “Does this make you have your hand around your cock?” You ask into the phone, smiling lightly as you turn around, lifting up the shirt from covering your ass, giving them a peek-a-boo of you from the back.

The evil voice echoes a laugh. “How did you know?”

Being correct makes you all the more turned on. “How could you not?”

I mean, look at you. You looked gorgeous and confident, silhouetted by the light, awed by a strange man. You can hear them jerking it on the line, murmuring little grunts to try and not get ahead of themselves. The show had just begun.

With your back turned to the window still, you cross your arms over your threshold, retrieve your shirt, and lift it up and off of you. Your hair cascades and dances around your back and shoulders. You felt bare, cold. Part of you wished they would come inside and warm you up.

You peer over your shoulder, hearing the approving grunt on speakerphone. You bit on your thumbnail, looking through the glass with big doe eyes.

“You’re not so innocent, pretty girl. Let me see you.”

Now, with your body to show, you felt a bit more nervous. Your fingertips twitched, and you felt shaky on your legs. You did as the voice asked, turning to face the window. Your arms are crossed, covering your bare breasts meekly.

That’s when you see him. A masked man standing a fair distance away out your window. It quickens your pulse and surges you with adrenaline.

Yet you don’t run. You don’t hide.

Your eyes flitter down to their hand shuffling up and down the extent of their cock. The sight alone, even in the dark, being able to see his impressive length was enough to make you let out a needy whimper.

“I-I don’t know about this,” you whimper, your head falling a bit shamefully. It’s like your head caught up with your foolish actions.

“I’m warning you. Put down your fucking arms.”

You let out a shaky breath and wince at the voice, tears simmering on your waterline. You put yourself in this position, you can’t believe you thought this would work.

You slowly drop your hands to your sides, exposing your breasts. And how embarrassing they were, taut and at peaks. They were flush with color, begging for attention. You interlocked your fingers behind your back and chewed on your bottom lip, shyly looking down at the floor as you clamped your thighs tightly together.

“You’re a real beautiful girl,” the voice grunted, flattering you with attention. “Why don’t you let me in.”

The demand didn’t frighten you like maybe it should have. Frankly, you were turned on to the point where it nearly hurt. You didn’t know who this mystery person was or what their intentions were, but they were getting off to seeing you exposed, scared, and alone.

“Come on,” the voice continues. You hear shuffling, and when you look up, the masked man outside your window is gone. You move closer and peer outside, but it’s quiet. Empty.

“Let me take care of you, sweet girl.”

Breaths fans out hastily from your nostrils, panicked as you looked around slowly from the front entrance to the back.

The doorbell rings, and it makes you jump nonetheless.

You bite down on your bottom lip as you retrieve your phone and slowly cross to the door in just your socks and underwear. Your forearm covers your breasts. Your hand rests on the handle, but you have a hard time willing yourself to open it.

The doorbell rings again, another jump through your bones, but this time, it implores you to swing the door open. And there he was.

He was tall, you had to crane your neck to look up. Your lips part, doe eyes taking in how close he is, stepping back in shock at his appearance. Broad shoulders cloaked by a black hooded robe. It was tattered, lined with rips and tears at the seams that draped from his arms. He also wore large, black, combat boots. The scariest thing of all was the mask. It was white with black eyes and a sloped open black mouth.

Whoever was behind the mask was fit. Their toned body could be discovered even behind the robust black robe. He wore black gloves, too. You don’t realize that as you’re taking him in, the protective arm you had concealing your breasts has since lowered.

“Scary night to be alone, isn’t it?” The voice is still animatronic as the masked man’s head tilts and observes you through the black cloth eye holes.

You nod your head, its pace quick.

“Invite me in. Don’t want you to catch a chill.”

It was disturbing to admit how stupid you felt letting this freakshow stalker into your boyfriend’s home, but in a really weird and taboo way, you found the anonymity of the man attractive. You saw his cock while he stood outside, his large hand stroking over himself at the sight of your body. You figure he must have put the gloves back on once he wanted to come inside.

As if he could read your mind, the masked man stepped inside with his tall stature looming over yours. He slowly plucked off one of his gloves, and you see his flesh.

You watch him carefully as he brings his hand to cup your cheek. You flinch at first, but there is truly nothing to be frightened of. He strokes away a dry, panicked tear from earlier. You can’t help but let out a shaky, wavering whimper. He touches you with such delicacy but hides behind a mask that scares you to your core.

“Just as I thought,” His animatronic voice echoed, his hand dropping to your hair that fell around your face and sweeping it behind your shoulder. “You’re beautiful.”

Your hair was no longer concealing your breasts. You gasp shakily as his hand carefully caresses your tit, thumb featherlight over your nipple, before he cups and lightly squeezes your juicy flesh.

You swallow down a lump and cower before him. You’re afraid for when he goes lower what he might find, how your slick is dampening your thighs, and your clit is pulsating for him. You need him. It’s sick, gross, disgusting, but you need him.

“Please, Mr.,” you trail off, unsure of what to call him.

“Ghostface.” He aids, and you quickly nod as your lips part. Your worst fear is coming true as his calloused hand and rough fingertips guide themselves further down the soft skin of your stomach and to your panties.

“Please, Mr. Ghostface, I’ll do whatever you want me to do.” You can’t help but feel tears welling in your eyes once more.

The masked man sighs and slowly shakes his head in shame.

“I don’t think it’s about what I want to do to you. But what you want me to do to you.” He aggressively cups your sex, feeling his fingers squish with the soaked material of your red panties. You whimper and clutch his arm, biting back whimpery moans that you’re so desperate to let out. You were secretly begging to be touched. Your thighs clamp around the man’s hand.

He deviously chuckles. “This is all for me, sweet girl?”

The man walks you backward until your back is flushed to the wall. You’re still holding his arm in place between your thighs. His fingers add pressure to your bundle of nerves. You lightly grind your hips down into his fingers and let out an embarrassed little moan.

“Y-Yes.” Admitting in defeat made your stomach churn. “But I want to hear your voice.” You whisper, unsure if you can even make demands in your position right now.

Ghostface sighs weakly but plucks something out from under his mask. It looks sort of like a smaller walkie-talkie. It was a voice changer. Your eyes flitter to the eyes of his mask. It was black, empty. Finally, you would hear his true voice, and you prayed it was as sexy as he looked.

“Is this what you wanted to hear, darlin’?”

You lightly gasp at the southern drawl, deep and guttural, musk-filled and leaving you in a tailspin. His voice was hot, causing a pool of your white-hot heat to leak once more into your panties. You finally nod to his question and let your hands skim across the man’s front. He was toned, like you imagined, with hardened plains and a toughened, thick torso under his black cloak.

“You’re comin’ with me.” The voice growls. He leans down and scoops you up, throwing you over his shoulder as you gasp and whimper, feeling him trail you up the stairs. His black combat boots echo loudly through the stairwell. He’s so strong. How he knows the layout of the house scares you and implores you. It’s like he knows you, and you may know him.

He takes you to the master bedroom, the one you share with your boyfriend. Fuck, your boyfriend. A naughty sin to cheat, a naughty sin to like it. It’s hard to picture him right now with the man above you captivating your full attention.

Your breasts jiggle when he throws you back onto the mattress. You scramble further up it, putting a safe distance between you and Ghostface. He grips you at your ankles and pulls you to him in an eager yank. A cry escapes your throat, but it’s just because you’re nervous. You saw how big he was in his hand outside, and now, soon, you’d hope he would be inside of you.

“Please,” you whimper, and Ghostface tilts his head. “I-I..” you trail off and shake your head, embarrassment and shame pumping through your veins.

“You, what? Spit it out, pretty girl.” The voice says as he slowly takes off the hooded robe. He wears black pants and a black t-shirt under it but keeps the mask on. You like the mask on.

“I… I need you, Mr. Ghostface, please,” you whimper. Since he pulled you by your ankles back to the edge of the bed, your centers lightly graze one another. You make it a point to grind your hips eagerly into his, smearing the front of his pants with your slick.

The masked man hums in appreciation. You feel his hardened length concealed by his pants. Whimpers leave your mouth as you sit up and reach forward, unbuttoning the black pants with shaky hands. You unzip him and yank him free of his confines. You nearly freeze at his length, prominent veins lining up and down his cock from his pink tip to his swollen balls.

“You wanna live tonight, baby girl?” The low southern voice asks. You quickly nod, big, desperate eyes wanting to fill his every carnal need.

“Then get on your fucking knees, m’gonna fuck your throat.”

He’s aggressive as he pulls you down onto the floor by your hair. You scream out of instinct, but the heat on your scalp brings needy relief.

You quickly scramble properly to your knees and shuffle your hand over him. One hand isn’t enough, so you add your second. He’s so large and girthy. Fucking your mouth would hurt so good. You hope you’re a slobbering mess for him once he’s done with you.

“Did I say your hands?” You frown and slowly stop, shaking your head. “I said your throat, want your fucking throat, you little slut.”

You whimper and force yourself to put your hands behind your back, your breasts perking out more as you spit over him, watching it glide down his shaft and spill onto your shaking thighs. You lick your lips and wrap your mouth around his sensitive tip.

The masked man seethes through his teeth. He takes off both gloves and knots his fingers into your hair. You’re intimidated by his size, anyone would be, so you try to relax your throat and let him sink further and further in.

Your eyes go wide as he rams himself down your throat impatiently. Your hands instinctively fly up to his thighs, smacking at them and clutching desperately, trying to explain with a lack of words that you’re choking on him. You cry out, but his cock muffles you.

“M’not a patient man, I’m warning you now.”

You clench your teary eyes closed and sniffle, trying your best to swallow around him and breathe through your nose. Your black mascara tears turns him on, and he twitches in your mouth.

With a shaky breath, you try again. You have to start slow at first, but you remember how impatient he is. You slick his cock with your spit, trying to work up his shaft inch by inch.

“Open your mouth up, nice and wide for me.” The sight of his mask makes you twitch, but you do as he says and drop your jaw for him. You even go as far as to stick out your tongue for him.

“Wow,” he admires, as both of his hands wind up into your hair and carve out sections of your hair to create ponytails in his fists. “Such a good girl f’me.”

His praise makes you purr, bringing your hands up to your front as you massage over the squishy flesh of your tits.

You let out a low mewl as he stuffs your mouth again, stuffing your face with his cock. It takes a few moments, but you gradually learn how to accommodate him. He hits the back of your throat repeatedly, and he likes it when you choke around him. You try to see him through your teary eyes, whimpering around his cock.

The masked man’s grip on your hair tightens as he pulls you into his cock and holds you there, balls flushed to your mouth as they smack against your chin. He groans, long and low, holding you down as his cock suffocates your throat. You swallow around him, tasting drops of precum, whimpering around him as you struggle to breathe. Despite it causing you to choke even more around him, you stick out as much of your tongue as you can and teasingly lick at his balls.

He sucks in harshly through his teeth and moans, gripping the ponytails even tighter, making your scalp sear in pain. But it was all worth it because he was so goddamn big in your throat. You hoped he would split your pussy.

With a harsh yank, the masked man rips you from his cock. You instantly cough and gag, trying to swallow around the excessive puddles of saliva grouping in the back of your throat and now dripping out of your mouth. You looked like a disgusting mess.

You plant your hands on the floor and drop your head, looking like a dog as you shakily regain your breathing. You slowly look up, seeing his hardened cock slap up against his toned stomach, dripping with your slobber.

You meekly wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and stand up, your legs shaking beneath you. With as much courage as you can muster, you reach for Ghostface’s hand and slowly pull it to your center as you sit on the edge of the bed.

“Please,” you beg in a meek whisper, swallowing the messy amount of existing saliva and precum down your throat as you blink through black, mucky, mascara tears. Your eyes flutter as his long, meaty fingers slowly circle around your clit through your panties. It’s jaw-dropping, stomach-fluttering madness. It’s like he knows you like the back of your hand. “Please, fuck me.” You whisper desperately, pulling him slowly towards the direction of the bed. Towards you.

You don’t feel any more safe with him, but you like the excitement of feeling on the fence. Would he be rough or gentle with you? Call you his sweet girl or his little slut? The edging of unsureness and torrid manipulation has forced white hot heat to pool into your core, and you sure as hell spoiled these red panties enough.

The masked man drops his gaze to your mound. His hands reach up to the sides of your hips.

It’s slow and desperate at first, he almost fools you. Ghostface weakly chuckles before he begins to rip the measly material from your lower half. You yelp out as it causes your body to get tugged around. Your panties are now a mess of threads on the floor. You whimper desperately, clamping your thighs closed on instinct despite wanting the opposite.

Ghostface grabs your ankles and forcibly parts your legs, turning his head slowly as he watches your glistening core.

“Y-You could have a taste, y’know, if you take off the mask.” You offer, your heart pounding in your chest. You loosely hook your leg around his hip and pull him closer. Ghostface plants his hands on either side of your head, hovering over you as his heavy breath puffs through the mask.

Ghostface pulls one hand away to his side and shucks something off his belt. You gasp and flinch your eyes closed as a large knife glimmers in the moon’s light.

“You think I’m going to show you my face, you stupid bitch? Huh?” He taunts you, wielding the knife closer and closer to your throat as you cry out, but clamp your legs tighter around his waist and pull your centers together. You can feel his fat cock sliding up and down your exposed folds. You’re so needy, and it’s repulsive.

He sickeningly laughs, jutting the tip of his knife against the underside of your chin. It hurts, it stings, and you hope it leaves a mark from him so you can look at it later when you replay this night in your mind. You hope he spares you so you can think endlessly about him.

“I-I want you to keep the mask on.” You purr nervously, your hand drifting down your stomach towards your exposed mound.

Ghostface chuckles, low and demonic. “You want me to fuck you with the mask on?” He asks slowly, trilled with curiosity.

It fills you with a pit of guilt and shame in your stomach. But you slowly nod. You were willing to risk everything, your boyfriend, your safety, your life, just to ensure this man filled you to the brim like you know he could.

“Please do. Fuck me, Mr. Ghostface.” You beg. Though you can’t see, you imagine him smirking behind his mask, looking at you with a sense of intrigue and disgust. How could you be so twisted?

“My pleasure.” He says goadingly, ripping the hold you had on the sheets and yanking you closer to the edge of the bed. You cry out as he forcibly spreads your legs with his body and slaps his cock against your aching center. You’re so sensitive from waiting, you needed to have him this very second.

A smirk twitched on your lips, but you forced yourself to bite it down, shakily moaning as Ghostface tucks away his knife and wraps his large hand around his cock, lining up his tip to your dripping center. You flinch every time he purposely flicks your anxious bundle of nerves.

“Fuck,” you whisper, your hand clutching his bicep greedily. “Please, need to feel you inside of me.” You whimper.

Ghostface reaches up and smears his hand down your face, your cheeks smudged with your mucky tears as you whine like a little brat. For your insolence, he strikes you across the face before nastily grabbing you by your cheeks and forcing you to look at him.

“Bein’ a real fuckin’ brat for a stranger’s dick, such a fucking hungry cock slut, aren’t you?” He degraded you to your very core, soiling his cock in your gushing slick. You were pretty sure that if he even just breathed over your mound, you would come.

Ghostface enjoys your desperate whimpers for his dick. He’s more than happy to deliver. He angles his tip to your entrance and notches himself inside. Your gasp surges his adrenaline as he parts you egregiously.

You hook your hands on the underside of your legs, keeping yourself wide and spread for the masked man above you. Inch by inch, you feel your head lose focus, your mind floating as you see stars that consume your vision.

The moans you give him are heavenly, he thinks he’s never heard a more beautiful thing. He’s a sadist watching you take his cock, knowing it hurts, knowing you’re forcing yourself open for him, knowing how much you’re drunk off it. He just can’t help himself to wait.

Air is knocked from your lungs when Ghostface decides he’s, again, not a patient man. He fucks the last few inches into you and hard, pushing you to your limits and filling you to the brim.

Your head is thrown back as you scream in shock, never having been fucked by someone who feels so good. You sob as your walls flutter around him, attempting to accommodate the size in such a short amount of time.

“Yes! Jesus Christ- Fuck!” You moan out, to which Ghostface chuckles lowly.

“Take me so well,” he’s trying to breathe through being squeezed so tightly by your walls, even he finds it difficult. “Such a pretty girl, just needs to be fucked to keep her- shit - her goddamn mouth shut.” The man growls behind the mask and starts to fuck you at an earth-shattering pace.

You cry out in shock, gripping Ghostface at his biceps and whimpering at how strong he is. He pulls himself nearly all the way out of you before he flushes his hips right back to you, slapping your ass cheeks with his clothed thighs. That’s when he really begins to rail you.

You see stars, still adjusting to his size, your slick pooling around him with excitement. You hazily smile, fucked dumb by a stranger, filled to the brim as you stare at the ceiling. Your visions jumps up and down as Ghostface pounds you senselessly. The bedframe rattles and the legs skirt against the hardwood floors.

Impatient whines from you fill the room as he pulls himself from your pussy, moaning out for him needily. He manhandles you, grabbing your hips forcefully and flipping you over onto your stomach.

“Ass up, let’s go.” He commands.

You were still in a funk, head wiped empty of any palpable information. You whimpered as you tried to move but at the pace of a snail.

His impatient hands grip you tightly at your hips, forcing a broken yelp from your throat as he pulls you up to bend over, shoving your face into the mattress and angling your ass up for him to use.

“Yes, please use me,” you whimper desperately, reaching your hands back and parting your ass cheeks for him. “Finish inside me, use me as your cum dumpster.” Where was this language coming from?! This wasn’t you, you didn’t sound or look like you. He was turning you into someone new, someone satisfied by his anonymity. You’d never know who was fucking you senseless, and it might drive you mad until you find out, if you ever will, that is.

Your thoughts are squashed from your mind as a harsh slap followed by a greedy grip is splayed across your ass. A yelp is pulled from your throat, instincts telling you to flinch away and protect yourself.

“Ah-ah,” the man teases, his angry fingers creating bruises on your hips as he pulls you back to the edge of the bed to be his little sex servant. “Good girls take what they are given, so take it,” Ghostface says as he smacks your other cheek, reddening them both, jiggling the flesh much to his appeal.

His large palms seared his prints into your ass, gripping your ass and pulling you to his cock. He lines himself up, and you take him again.

You don’t understand unless it’s happening to you, how it feels like you’re floating in space, fucked numb but also feeling like you’re on pins and needles. It’s indescribable to enjoy being fucked by a stranger, but it’s happening, and it’s happening to you.

He penetrates you, parting your walls, making himself a home inside you. You squeeze around him, and he moans. It satisfies you so intensely.

“Beg for me,” he mutters through the mask, grunting with each thrust. He must be close.

“P-Please, keep fucking me so good, please Mr. Ghostface-”

“No!” He strikes your pretty ass again, hard, and your warm flesh singes with heat. You whimper, imagining how red, angry, and large his handprint looks stamped on your ass.

“Want you to beg... for your life.” His voice had turned as cold as stone, ridged with a sadist tone that left goosebumps bubbling on the surface of your skin. A scared feeling sunk into the pit of your stomach. You swallowed a lump down your throat and shyly peeked around your shoulder to take him in.

“P-Please… I want to live,” you whimper, your hands fisting the sheets as Ghostface slowly picks back up the paces of his thrusts. He’s turned on by this.

“Oh my- please, I know you d-don’t know me, but I’m good, l-look how good I’m being for you,” you begin to cry as he fucks you harder, your ass clapping aggressively against his thighs and the grip he has on your hips intensifies.

He loves fucking you until you cry. Such a sadist.

Ghostface gives a few last gut-twisting thrusts, and his tip kisses your cervix repeatedly. He’s so large you can feel him in your tummy. His hand reaches around your hip, and the other stays gripping your ass while he spanks your clit lightly with his fingers.

“Fuck!” You cry out, beginning to throw your ass back into him, creating your own unique rhythm together. You’re so sensitive, and you’re coming before you can even fully register it.

“Mr. Ghostface, please,” you whimper. “I-I’m coming so fu-ucking hard,” you mewl for him, your thighs twitching along with your walls that squeeze around him, begging to milk him for his seed.

Ghostface’s thick and angry cock twitches inside of you, desperate to fill your needy hole with his sperm. He grunts and pants into the mask, filling his own body with a heat that makes him sweat. He pounds himself into you until you’re flattened against the mattress, begging for release, begging to live.

There’s something about your obedience that he gives into, his cock twitching deep inside the warm comfort of your walls and between your beautiful ass cheeks. He pulls out and pants, handling his cock as he paints your ass white.

The warm droplets of come make you twitch, but it’s so hot to be painted white by the man who praised you and degraded you all night long.

You’re a heap of nothing strewn about the mattress. You can’t seem to calm your shaky breath. You lay there limp, unable to move, unable to think. All you can think about is the man behind the mask and how irate and perverted he is. And how much you fell into his trap.

Shame twisted your guts enough, forcing you to get up and turn around and face your stalker. But when you turned back, he was gone. How long were you not paying attention?

You quickly retrieved your robe, forcing yourself to walk despite your legs feeling like liquid gelatin. Checking room to room, you survey your boyfriend's home and are left empty-handed. It’s like he was never here.

From the top of the stairs, you hear the door open and close.

“Honey?” Your heart sinks, hearing your boyfriend kick off his shoes on the mat.

Rushing down the stairs, you collapse into his arms and cry out of guilt. You tell him everything. Everything besides the show in front of the windows and getting fucked by Ghostface in his own bed. There’s more to leave out than to leave in, but the short story is that you were taunted over the phone by a masked man, scared to death, and begged for your life.

His first reaction was to call the police, and despite how much you hesitated, you let him. Two nice offers responded to the call. They sat you two down separately and asked you what had happened. You were wrapped in a blanket and your robe, shaking in disappointment.

It was scary, lying to the cops, withholding all of the truth. Making sure not to overshare any details. You also didn’t want to give away that you liked it. To the bone, you liked it.

You were hunted like prey tonight, used, fucked hard until you couldn’t breathe. Left in the dark, feeling a little crazy if it even happened in the first place. But you could feel him still inside of you, stretched and still leaking between your thighs. You tugged your robe tighter, smiling weakly at the officer as he closed his notebook.

“We’ll figure out what we can ma’am. For now, keep everything locked up. I wouldn’t leave the house alone.” You wipe away the mucky mascara on your cheeks and sigh, nodding as you walk with the officer to the door.

His badge read J. Miller. He was older, stippled with grey hair within his dark curly locks. He had an aquiline nose and plumish-rose lips. His broad chest strikes something somewhat familiar to you. He glances behind you at the officer who is still asking your boyfriend a few questions.

Officer Miller sighed, looking over the door frame curiously.

“Said you locked the doors?”

You hesitate but nod compliantly.

His pointer finger shapes over the lock, then the entry metal hinge. “No forced entry.” He notes, looking at you curiously.

You evade his eye contact and conceal yourself tighter in your blanket and robe. “I.. I don’t know how he got in.” Your eyes find the floor, planting themselves there as you stare at Officer Miller’s familiar black police boots.

He hums curiously, looking over you slowly.

“You’re tellin’ me everythin’ that happen to you tonight?”

Your doe eyes go wide, your head snapping up to Officer Miller’s. “I-I promise, please, Officer Miller-”

He holds up a hand to cut you off, and you weakly stand there with your lips parted. Then he starts to nod and slowly smile. “That’s a good girl.”

It strikes you like a bolt of lightning, fear and curiosity consume you. You hear footsteps behind you, the other officer, and your boyfriend, who collects his arm around your shoulders.

Officer Miller watches you with a glint of intrigue but nothing more. His eyes shift to your boyfriend’s arm protectively wrapped around you. It makes him twitch up a stomach-twisting smile before he turns to his fellow officer.

“Got everything you need?” Officer Miller asks, tucking his thumbs into the front of his belt while he observes the other officer’s notepad. The officer nods and places his small notebook and pen in his breast pocket.

“Got everything we need. You two stay safe.”

The other officer ducks out first and nods curtly, Officer J. Miller stands there a moment longer.

“Happy Halloween.” He said with a sickening smile. “Be sure to lock the door behind me.”

You gulp as you look over Officer Miller meekly before he disappears outside and into the night. Where he belonged.

---

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tightjeansjavi · 6 months

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common tongue of your loving me

A/N: so, I first just wanted to say that I am not responsible for the content that you choose to engage with. This is a very dark fic with triggering themes that may be disturbing for some readers. This is dead dove do not eat. Please heed the warnings with caution. I understand that this won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, but for my first truly dark fic, I feel pretty good about it. It’s taken months of personal healing for me to become comfortable with writing/engaging with these kinds of fics. That being said, it is important to remember that SA survivors often use dark fic to cope from their own traumatic experiences, but also, dark fics can be enjoyed by anyone and no explanation for enjoying them is needed! Reading and writing dark fic does not mean that you condone this type of behavior. Please be kind.

~word count: 9.1k~

Summary: Joel finds you wandering through his territory and decides that he’ll take you in to be his little lamb. You don’t go with him so willingly.

pairing | raider!Joel x f!reader

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!

Dubcon/noncon, the lines are blurred regarding to what the reader consents too, Joel is sick in the head, coercion, manipulation from both Joel and the reader, Stockholm syndrome vibes, he can kill easily you if he wanted to but he won’t, dom/sub, dark! Joel, feral! Joel, raider! Joel, rough unprotected sex, possession, degradation, age gap: Joel is 40 the reader is early 30’s, power imbalance, fear tactics, mind games, praise kink, pet names: little lamb and sir, rough unprotected piv, choking/breath play, knife kink, blood kink, voyeurism, hand job, mutual masturbation, cock warming, oral (male and female receiving) cum play, mutilation of a body part (not done to the reader) misogyny from Joel’s men, implied rape as threat/coercion, Joel is not a morally good person, touch deprivation, humiliation, graphic depictions of violence, submission on the means of survival, foul language, +18 minors dni!

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The Cordyceps Outbreak changed you in a plethora of ways. Survivor turned cold-blooded murderer; not of your own doing. Desperate times call for desperate measures after all. Your saving grace happened to be a man. Brooding in strength, a quick tongue, and an even quicker aim. Calculated movements built up over years of tireless days and nights enduring whatever hell-scape the world had to offer. Grit, stubbornness, chapped lips, aliquine nose, paired with a wicked grin.

“Y’lost?” Gruff, gravelly, never ending pit of deepness. Joel Miller was crouched down between what you believed was an inconspicuous hiding space. You caught wind days out that a group of raiders had been silently stalking you. You were alone, with a limited supply of weapons in your reach.

“No.” Your voice trembled as you clutched your precious pocket knife to your chest.

“That so? What’re you doin’ hidin’ back there?” His head cocked curiously as his boot scraped along the tattered floor of the long since abandoned gas station.

“None of your goddamn business.” You hissed, teeth gritted as your eyes squeezed shut.

“Cute.” He mused. “Take it that you’re alone then? Y’got anythin’ on ya?”

“Are you going to kill me, or not? Cause if so, just get on with us for both our sakes.” You nearly pleaded.

He tsked, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “Ain’t gonna do that. Woulda dragged you outta there myself if that was the case. Besides, I enjoy it more when they run.” He spoke so casually you could feel your blood quickly turn to ice from his tone alone.

“What the hell do you want then? I have nothing to offer. Just some measly scraps, and a dull pocket knife.”

I’m gonna die. That’s it. It’s all over. All that fighting for fucking nothing.

“Ain’t that a shame.” You could feel the smirk rise on his face as bile tried to force its way up your throat. “You’re in luck, my dear. Feelin’ a bit generous. Been lookin’ for a pet. Someone to keep my bed warm at night. Clean my gun. Be at my side. The offer stands, but expires in approximately..” He looked around as if there was a working clock in sight, “one minute.”

“Wait, wait! Are you saying you want me to be your slave?! Fuck no! I’d–”

“Temper, I see. My slave? Not at all, darlin.’ You’ve got it all wrong. Ain’t gonna force ya, although, you were the one to stupidly go waltzing into raider territory. More specifically, my territory. So, you either swallow that fuckin’ tongue of yours and accept your fate, or i’ll let my men have their way with ya. N’trust me, doll. They’ll tear you apart the second they get their hands on you.”

“You sick fuck! I’m not going anywhere with you!” You pushed your body further between the two aisle shelves that had collapsed over.

“Ten.”

“You’re insane!”

“Nine.”

“Eight.” He droned with mock enthusiasm.

“C’mon, you ain’t got anywhere else to go. I won’t touch you unless you want me to. Don’t make this fuckin’ harder for yourself than it needs to be. My patience is runnin’ thin, and the clock is tickin’ away, little lamb.”

“I am not your little lamb, you fuckin’ monster!”

His eyes rolled in pure annoyance as you listened intently to the unmistakable clicking sound of his gun cocking.

“Seven.”

“Six.”

What other choice did you really have? Allow yourself to be violated, and god knows what else by this man’s men, or accept your fate and become his ‘pet.’ Just the thought alone sent a wave of nausea knocking through your system.

“Wait, wait! Please!” You nearly begged as you pulled yourself free from your hiding spot. You dropped your pocket knife to the floor with a clink as you held your hands above your head.

His smirk was nothing short of menacing as he took immediate notice to the terrified glassy look in your eyes.

“Don’t be frightened, little lamb.” He crooned

“You’re safe, and no harm will be done to you. However, my men will be deeply disappointed to hear that I have decided to take you as my own.”

God, this man was sick, but there was no turning back now. No escape route. No plan. No hope. Maybe he was just bluffing. Maybe his plan was to kill you when you’d least expect it. Maybe this was all just a game of cat and mouse for him; you being the helpless little mouse.

“You swear that you’re not going to touch me?” You eyed his outstretched hand warily.

“My darlin’ little lamb, you have my word. Although, I will have to pat you down. Y’know, to make sure you ain’t have anythin’ on ya. Oh, and don’t think I'm playin’ stupid either. Cus’ if you try’n kill me? I’ll make you wish that you had never been born. You have no idea what I am capable of, and my token of kindness only can stretch so far. Jus’ be good, and I won’t have to send a pretty thing like you six feet under. Got it?” His tone was sharp and straight to the point as his brow raised in your direction. You couldn’t even begin to fathom what this man was capable of.

You reluctantly took his hand as he hoisted you up from the grime infested floor. Not a second later did he have your back pinned securely against his broad chest as he held the sharp tip of your knife expertly against your jugular. All he would have to do was apply a tad bit of pressure in order to make a fatal incision. You could feel his lips ghosting against the shell of your ear. His voice dropped an octave as he whispered, “Oh, and if you even think about tryn’ to run from me? I will hunt you down. Do I make myself crystal fuckin’ clear, little lamb?”

You struggled considerably in his constricting grip. A hiss slipped past your lips when the tip of the blade pricked your skin, blood beaded along the surface before slowly trickling down the column of your throat. “Fuck you, asshole.” You nearly whimpered when the blunt ends of his fingernails dug fiercely into your hips. He was unmoving like a mountain, or a slab of concrete. (whichever you prefer)

“That ain’t my name, little lamb.” He tuts before dipping his head down along the clavicle of your neck. His curls gently tickle your chin before you feel his hot tongue poke out and lick up the droplets of blood from your skin. You involuntarily inhaled a harsh breath as his lips harshly sucked on the entry wound. You heard a tiny grunt rumble up his chest before he uttered, tone thick and raspy, “It’s Joel.”

Joel fucking Miller.

His teeth nipped and scraped at your torn skin as his grip around you tightened. “Silly, silly, little lamb. You’ve gone and nicked yourself. Be good, and I’ll let you breathe.”

“Please, please let go of me, Joel. Please. You’re hurting me.” Your voice came out strained as you ultimately gave up on struggling in his steel-like grasp.

“There ya go. That’s a good little lamb.” He cooed as he loosened his grip around you. He had forgotten all about needing to pat you down as he slowly lowered your knife from its present position on your neck. He tucked it away in his own backpack for safe keeping. You were dumb to think that he’d let you have it back.

“Now that we’ve gotten the painfully hard stuff outta the way, y’can relax. So stiff.” He tsked as he nudged you forward. “You’ll be pleased to hear that I’m not a complete barbarian. Got a cabin with workin’ plumbing! Imagine that.” He chuckled amusedly.

You were far from amused as you crossed your arms over your chest protectively as he nudged you forward. Your feet worked on autopilot as his domineering presence was close behind you. “That’s nice, Joel. I could frankly fucking care less where you live.” You snapped in a sharp quick tone.

“Oh? Well, perhaps you’d rather fuckin’ sleep outside, chained to a tree like a goddamn dog.” he snapped back, quicker than you had expected.

“Yeah?” You scoffed. “Well, maybe I would much rather be chained to a fucking tree than breathe the same disgusting air as you.” So much for not pushing this man's buttons.

He laughed, and you could feel his hot breath tickling the hair along the back of your neck.

“As tempting as that sounds, how am I supposed to protect you if you’re chained to a tree?” He was smirking rather sadistically. You couldn’t see his face, but you just knew he was grinning through his teeth. “Besides, wouldn’t you much rather sleep in a warm, cozy bed, little lamb? I bet it’s been awhile since you’ve experienced that kinda comfort, hmm?” He knew he was toying with you and it was becoming increasingly difficult to not stand your ground.

“I don’t need your protection. I don’t want anything to do with it, and for the love of God, would you stop fucking calling me little lamb?”

“Y’know, the more you fight this, the worse it’s going to be. You oughta be thankin’ me. Y’know why? I could fuckin’ take you right here, right now. I can shove you to the ground and have my way with you, little lamb. You can scream and cry all you want, but there’s not a goddamn thing you could do to stop me. You’re defenseless, and apparently missing quite a few marbles in that brain of yours. I suggest you shut the fuck up, and keep movin.’” In the midst of your quarrel, he had silently removed his gun from the holster around his hips, and you could feel the cool metal of the barrel pressing into the back of your neck.

You froze purely out of fear as your mouth went dry. No words fell from your once confident tongue as he nudged you forward once more.

“Yeah, that’s what I fuckin’ thought.” He hissed.

You were in fact shocked to see that Joel and his men didn’t live in filth and grime like you expected. Even moreso, it didn’t appear that they had stowed away any prisoners in their camp. This newfound knowledge was both comforting, and unsettling. Joel’s cabin was the furthest from the rest of the group. Tucked away in a grouping of evergreens. If you hadn’t known any better, you’d think he was just some lone survivor too. You surveyed the surrounding area silently as he unlocked the front door. You could run..but how far would you manage to get? He’d hunt you down no doubt. Your body was already running off pure adrenaline. It had been weeks since you had a proper meal.

“Home sweet home.” He chimed as he gave you a rough jolt forward. Your legs nearly buckled from the surprised movement as you stumbled inside. The heavy wooden door swung shut as he locked it behind him.

“I imagine you must be starvin’ huh?”

“Nope.”

He rolled his eyes as he slung his backpack along one of the hooks on the wall. “Uh-huh. You ain’t all that of a liar, little lamb. Look, if I were in your situation, i’d suck it the fuck up and be grateful for my generous hospitality. Y’wanna starve? Be my fuckin’ guest, but don’t say I didn’t try to feed ya.” He huffed as he strode past you, shoulder brushing yours roughly as he disappeared into the kitchen.

You stood there dumbly in the middle of the entryway as you subconsciously scratched at your arm. “Hey..uh, Joel?” You sounded timid and unsure of yourself but given the present circumstances, that was to be expected.

His head peeked around the corner as he made eye contact with you. “Yes, little lamb?”

Can he fucking quit it with that nickname already?

“So, I was wondering if it was possible for me to uh–shower? I’ve been traveling for weeks and I just figured you probably wouldn’t want me stinking up your bed? Just want to make sure I'm being a good pet for you.” You nearly gagged from your compliant words, but if you played your cards right, maybe you’d make it out of this alive.

His slow growing smirk was a tell-tale sign that he was buying your faux submission. Ruthless or not, he was still a man at the end of the day.

“Sure. S’not a problem at all. Y’need help findin’ your way? Jus’ down the hall n’to the left. I’ll leave some clothes out for ya as well. Think you’ve worn those things to ruin.” He casually gestured to your tattered clothing.

“Yeah, well..beggars can’t be choosers now can they?”

“No, they can’t.” He agreed.

You stared at one another a moment longer before you padded off down the hall. You could feel his eyes burning into the back of your head until you turned the corner. You paused momentarily to listen for his footsteps. Only when you were convinced he didn’t follow you, did you finally release a shaky breath. Just be good, and you’ll get out of this one way or another.

Joel’s bathroom was insipid in decor, but that came as to no surprise. It’s not like he had any reason to embellish the space with flowers or any other domestic shit. At least the towels looked fairly clean, and the shower head looked durable. You could have shed tears of joy when you turned the faucet handle and a steady stream flowed through the shower head. The water had a slightly oxidized odor from the well, but it wasn’t ice cold; more like room temperature. You wasted no time to shred your thin layers of clothing and discard them to the cool tile beneath your feet. Your nipples pebbled and grew taught under the cooling stream of water along your skin. You feel the filth and grime slowly wash away and stain the water a murky brown color from the debris. You were pleasantly surprised to find a bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo that was undoubtedly expired, but it would suffice.

The towel you wrapped around your body was a bit coarse and itchy from being utilized so many times. You kept your hand firmly wrapped around the front of the towel to prevent it from slipping down your still damp body. As you reached for the door handle you found shortly after that there was something blocking your ability to open it all the way. You took a deep breath as you prepared yourself for the inevitable..clothes? There just outside of the door, folded nicely in a pile, was a shirt and pants waiting for you.

Joel was busy putzing around the kitchen as he prepared a well-deserved meal for the two of you. He was already convinced that you were warming up to him (finally). Or, perhaps you were just too exhausted to put up a solid fight. Either way, he was going to continue to use his generous hospitality to his advantage. Match point.

“Well, don’t you clean up nice.” He mused from where he was standing as you appeared from down the hall.

“Shower was pretty decent.” You mumbled in response.

“Go on and make yourself at home.” He gestured to the small kitchen table with two handcrafted wooden chairs. “Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes.”

“I already told you, I'm not hungry.”

“Still playin’ the stubborn game, are we? What happened to the whole ‘I want to be a good pet for you, Joel?’” he dropped the kitchen knife he was presently holding onto the countertop as he made air quotes with his fingers.

“Why the hell would you think for a second that I'm going to trust you all of a sudden? I don’t want shit to do with your food.”

“Mmm. I see. S’you jus’ thought oh, i’ll just use his shower and shit will be all peachy keen? Sit your fuckin’ ass down at that table right now.” He wasn’t asking, he was demanding.

“Oh, gee. You’re too kind! Giving me somewhere to finally rest my fucking feet.” You muttered sarcastically under your breath as you plopped down onto the chair finally.

Seconds later a plate was placed down in front of you. The smell was absolutely mouthwatering. Seared venison, potatoes, gravy and bread. This was a real hearty meal that you could only dream of having. It reminded you of Sunday dinner’s back at your parents when you were struggling to pay your rent off every month. You’d have leftovers for days thanks to them.

You suspiciously eyed your captor as he took the seat across from you and began to indulge in the meal he had prepared. You remained skeptical as your arms crossed over your chest defiantly.

“It ain’t poisoned if that’s what you’re thinkin.’ Why the hell would I be eating poisoned food? Besides, how are you supposed to keep my bed warm if you’re fuckin’ dead, little lamb?” He grumbled as he pointed his fork in your direction.

“I don’t know. Maybe a sick fuck like you is into that sorta thing. You don’t actually expect me to believe that you have a moral compass, do you?”

“Oh, you’re right on the head with that one. Just below your feet I have bodies stashed for safekeeping. Oh, and some are buried out back in the woods. You’ll find bones scattered about the property.” he stated nonchalantly as he leaned over the table with his eyes locked on yours. “Y’know what I love most? I love it when they scream and beg for their pathetic little lives to be spared. They all try to escape, but they never get very far. I give them all a fair head start jus’ to give them that false hope that they’re going to make it out of this alive.” He stabbed a piece of venison with his fork before popping it into his mouth.

Your blood curdled like rotten milk as you went to push your chair back. You were startled from the sound of his knife being embedded into the wood with a harsh thud. “Don’t you even fuckin’ think about it.” He hissed.

“Are you fucking serious?! You have dead bodies under the fucking floorboards?! So, this was your plan all along?! Make me play house with you till you get bored and decide to butcher me?!”

“No.” he deadpanned. “I was not bein’ serious. But, since you think i’m some sick fuckin’ monster that stashes women away to murder them, I decided to play into your little scenario. Now, fuckin’ eat your goddamn food. Or by God I will fucking pin you down and shove it down your throat.”

You truly could not tell if he was bluffing or not, but by the darkened appearance of his pupils, your brain was literally screaming at you to just pick the fucking fork up and eat. So, that’s exactly what you did. Fuck, this was the best thing you tasted in a long time.

When the sun began to set and cast a soft orange glow through the cabin windows, your nerves were on high alert when you faced the realization that you’d have to sleep in the same bed as this man. Your plate was nearly licked clean as he removed it from in front of you. He could sense your unease from a mile away. It was as if he could smell the fear leaking from your pores.

“Go on and get some rest, little lamb. I’ll be there in a few. Oh, and by the way, I prefer to sleep naked. I hope that doesn’t pose a problem for you.” He shot a flirty wink in your direction before you were immediately pushing your chair back.

Fucking peachy.

It wasn’t difficult to find his bedroom as it was the only other room in the mid size cabin. You would have much rather have slept on the uncomfortable hardwood floor than to share a bed with him. However, based on how he acted at the dinner table..you really didn’t want to stretch your luck, if you’d even call it that, any further.

The semi-comfortable mattress brought instant relief to your aching back and shoulders. A comfort short lived as you listened attentively to the faint footsteps approaching the door. Joel was surprisingly quiet as he slipped into the room like a shadow in the night. He barely acknowledged your presence as he shuffled to the unoccupied side of the bed. The mattress creaked beneath his weight as he sank down along it.

You laid there unmoving, quiet like a mouse as your eyes squeezed shut from the familiar shrill sound of the metal clasp of his belt clinking. His jeans hit the floor with a soft thud as a silent tear slowly rolled down your cheek. He yanked his shirt over his head in one swift movement before he kicked his boxers down his ankles. You heard him let out a faint sigh as he scrubbed his hand down his patchy beard. You waited for the moment that he would pounce..but it never came as he slowly swung his legs onto the mattress with a soft grunt as he settled back into the pillows. His cock hung heavy between his thighs as he shifted positions ever so slightly. “G’night, little lamb. Sleep tight.” He crooned softly.

Wait..that’s it? No no. What the hell was going on? Didn’t he say he would–

“Goodnight, Joel.” You whispered as you rolled over so your back was facing him. You were on the very edge of the mattress, as far away as you possibly could be from him.

Joel was more than willing to play the long game with you. He was in no rush, and toying with your already fragile mind was part of the fun. He did swear that he wouldn’t touch you without your consent, but he never said anything about not touching himself. He was, after all, a lonely man in some capacity. Perhaps that’s why he had no shame to slowly wrap his fist around the base of his cock while you were laying just a few feet away. He trapped his lower lip between his teeth as he dragged his thumb across the ruddy head, collecting a bead of precum that had weeped from the narrow slit. He twisted his hand slowly as a grunt bubbled up his throat. He pulled his hand back only to filthily spit on it in order to create some lubrication. His head tilted back against the pillows as his mind ran rampant through his filthy desires. “Fuck, that’s it little, lamb.” He hissed between his teeth, digging his heels into the mattress as his cock grew hard and swollen in his grasp.

You could vaguely hear the rustling of the sheets through your light slumber. You thought maybe you were experiencing some vivid dream when you detected Joel’s soft grunt and the unmistakable sound of him spitting into his hand. It felt like your body was betraying you and riding off into the deep end as your thighs subconsciously clenched together. His sounds of gratification only seemed to spur your now awake body to relieve itself in some capacity as your hand slowly snaked down between your thighs. It had been longer than you could remember since you last shared a bed with someone. Perhaps this was all based purely on animalistic instincts as your fingers dipped beneath your panties. Your clit was throbbing for attention as your fingertips skated across it. You bit down on the inside of your cheek hard to suppress a whimper from slipping out, but it was audible enough for Joel to hear it. Once you started, there was no going back as your fingers worked your clit in slow circular motions.

Joel was shocked to say the least. So much so, that his hand had stilled around his cock as he listened to your pathetic little whimpers that you were desperately trying to suppress. You being so unpredictable to him was an absolute turn on. He couldn’t believe that his dirty little lamb was shamelessly playing with herself. Maybe you and him weren’t so different after all. His cock twitched against his stomach as he imagined just how tight your little pussy would hug him, and that’s all it took for him to shred his remaining morale. “What’re you doin’ over there, little lamb?” He whispered through the pale moonlight that casted shadows across the bed frame.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You scrambled to remove your hand from between your thighs as a sense of embarrassment and dread washed over you. You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks from the excitement and adrenaline rush of being caught.

“Don’t stop on my account, dirty little lamb. You sounded so desperate to come. Why deprive yourself of that pleasure?” He hummed through his teeth as he gave the base of his cock a firm relieving squeeze. “Or are you seekin’ some assistance? I’d be happy to help..can’t leave your pussy hanging on the edge for that long, little lamb. She deserves better treatment than that.” He tsked disapprovingly.

it was as if a lightbulb had suddenly flashed in your brain. Yes, use this to your advantage. This is what he wants, right? Give it to him. Make him think that you’re submissive. Fuck him stupid and leave when he’s sleeping. Play his game better than he is.

“It hurts.” You pouted as tears of frustration began to slowly drip down the corners of your eyes. You did have to sell the part after all.

“Oh, baby. Don’t cry. I know it hurts..bet it’s been so long since your cunt has been properly taken care of, hmm? When’s the last time she’s been stretched out by a cock?” He asked softly as you felt the mattress dip down from him slowly roll over onto his elbow so he was facing you.

“It’s been too long, sir. I can’t even remember the last time I was properly filled up by a cock. I miss that feeling so much. Will you help me, please? I want you to take care of me, Joel.” You nearly moaned out a plea as your thighs rubbed together beneath the sheets.

Joel’s rough exterior had seemingly melted into a puddle of liquid as you nearly begged him. Who was he to say no to a person in need? Here you were, so willing, so compliant, so submissive, and right where he wanted you to be. “Oh, my poor little lamb. It’s been that long for you? Perhaps I’ll just have to remind your cunt just how good it feels to be properly filled up by a cock, hmm? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Please, Joel. Please remind me how good it feels to be filled up by a cock. I want you to stretch me out..I want to feel you everywhere..think you can handle that, sir?” You were already reaching for his hand as he scooted closer to where your body was laying. You guided his hand between your thighs so he could feel just how wet you were for him. “Please, can’t you feel how wet I am? Please make me feel good, sir.”

His eyes nearly rolled back into his skull from your desperation and neediness as his fingers lightly traced the seam of your panties where he could feel the wetness pooling through the fabric. “I’ll take real good care of you, little lamb. You’re in good hands. We’ll have to take these off so I can get a good look at ya. Bet she’s so fuckin’ pretty. Dyin’ to have a peek.”

He’s a goner.

She’s a goner.

“Take them off, please.” You whimpered as his hands grasped the hem of your panties and slowly pulled them down your thighs. His pupils dilated from the sight of the fabric sticking to your puffy wet pussy. His mouth watered from the sight alone as he discarded your ruined panties to the floor. You felt the warm embrace of his hand wrap around the inside of your thigh as he coaxed it across his lap so he could spread you nice and wide. “Oh, fuck. Look at how swollen she is. Must hurt so much.” He pouted with furrowed brows. “Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy. I cannot wait to ruin her, my little lamb.” At this angle you were entirely exposed to his greedy eyes as you watched his hand travel southward once more. He used his middle and forefinger to spread your folds open so he could get a better view of your swollen little clit. He appeared to be mesmerized as your tight wet little hole involuntary clenched inwards.

Your moans were anything but fake as his thumb slowly worked your clit into tight circles. He wasn’t lying about the fact that you certainly were in good hands. You were wet enough as it is, but he felt that extra lubrication couldn’t hurt as he spat a glob of saliva between his fingers and rubbed it in. He soon had two fingers knuckle deep inside of you as he slowly curled them inwards. “Gotta get you nice and relaxed for me, baby. I don’t wanna hurt ya, and you’re being such a good little lamb for me. I think I’ll just have to reward you for that. How does that sound?” His eyes drifted upwards so he could see your face twist with pleasure as your toes curled inwards.

“Oh, sir.” You moaned wantonly. “That feels so fucking good. Please don’t stop. I promise I’ll keep being your good little lamb. Can you show me your cock, Joel? I want to see it. I bet it’s so big..what if it doesn’t fit?”

He shifted his hips upwards so you could get a good look at his dick. He watched your eyes widen the slightest at the sight of him. Heavy set balls, dark coarse hair, and by far the thickest cock you had ever feasted your eyes upon. “Shh, we’ll make it fit. It’ll feel so fuckin’ good once I’m stretching you out, little lamb. You just gotta trust me. Can you do that for me, baby? Can you trust me?”

“Mhmm. I can trust you, sir. I know you’ll take extra good care of me. Please don’t make me wait much longer..please be good to me.”

He pressed a reassuring kiss to your temple as he felt the walls of your pussy clench down around his thick digits. The squelching sound sent blood quickly flowing southwards as his cock twitched against his thigh. As soon as he slipped his fingers out of you, he knelt between your thighs with one hand wrapped firmly around the base of his cock as he twisted his wrist a couple times. His freehand was wrapped around the underside of your thigh as he brought it around his shoulder with your heel resting along his firm shoulder blade. “Good little lamb. I’m goin’ fill this pretty little pussy up just the way that she deserves, okay? See, I told you that bein’ my pet wasn’t gonna be so bad. I knew you’d warm up to me eventually.” He mumbled under his breath as he slowly dragged his tip between your folds, rutting his hips forward slowly. The tip of his cock bumped against your already sensitive clit with each gentle thrust.

Your brain felt like a scrambled egg that was being mentally toyed and fucked with. This sick man could have easily fucked you like a rag doll into his mattress, and instead he was choosing to take things slow. Why? You couldn’t wrap your head around his reasoning, or if this was truly just another piece to his game, but Jesus fuck, there was no denying that it felt fucking incredible.

Your words came out like slurred jarble as your mouth slowly felt open when you felt him slowly start to sink inside of you, stretching you open, filling you up just like his promise. It felt like his cock was splitting you in two the further he pressed into you. He coaxed you gently when you clawed at his forearms. Shushing you with featherlight kisses to your cheekbones when he had bottomed out. Your leg fell limp around his shoulder when he had slowly pulled his hips back before jutting them forward.

He was fucking you deliciously deep as the matress squeaked from the movement. He was watching your face for any signs of discomfort as you struggled to figure out where he started, and where he ended. Your pussy hugged him tight as it drew him in deeper with each thrust. His hand nearly engulfed your hip as his thumb lightly pressed down along your lower abdomen where he could feel the tip of his cock just barely kissing your cervix. “Can you feel me right there, little lamb? You’re doing so good for me. So fuckin’ good. Tightest little pussy I’ve ever had. She’s huggin’ me so good.” His grunts mixed with your sharp moans as you struggled to not completely throw your plan out the window. In this position it was hard to gain any sense of control; it was time to switch things up.

“Joel, baby.” You mewled softly as your hips rolled forward to meet his thrusts. “I wanna try something that I think you’ll really like..I wanna be on top. You must be so exhausted from dealing with me all day..why don’t you lay back and I’ll do all the work?” You suggested with a harsh breath as he leaned down over you. You could feel the broad weight of his chest pressing down against you as his lips brushed across the shell of your ear, “that’s the best idea you’ve had all goddamn day, little lamb.”

Even after your handsome offering, he wasn’t quite ready to slip out of your warmth just yet. Now that he had a taste, there was no way in hell that he was about to let you go from his grasp. He had consumed you completely to the point where it felt like you were being suffocated by his sheer mass and the way he managed to hit that spongy spot inside of you with every profound intense induced thrust. His wiry patchy beard scraped at the soft skin of your cheek as he drove himself further. “Jus’ gimme a little more time with ya like this. You feel so fuckin’ good around me. Jus’ a little longer.” He stuttered between harsh jagged breaths that fluttered across the shell of your ear. His teeth nipped, scraped at the skin as the musty scent of his sweat melded into yours. Skin on skin: with no point of relief.

When he finally began to slowly slip out of your tight wet walls, it appeared that your body was reluctant to let go of him based on the way your pussy clenched around him tightly like a fist. He chuckled low and deep as he watched a mixture of your release and his own leak out of your tight fucked out hole. It glistened along the apex of your thighs, trailing down your skin, dripping along the once unsoiled comforter.

“My my, little lamb. You’ve gone and made quite the mess of yourself hmm?” He teased as he slowly dragged his pointer finger through the mixture of fluids as if he was creating an erotic painting, and his finger was the steady brush.

Focus. Focus. Focus. Your brain chanted at you relentlessly.

“Hnngh..mhm..i’ve made such a mess of myself, sir. Will you please clean me up?”

He smirked cruelly through the pale moonlight that danced across your skin as he scooted himself back on his knees, his cock brushing against the comforter and creating just enough stimulation for him to be satisfied for the time being. “Well, since you asked so nicely, I suppose I can give you an itty-bitty reward.” He mused as his eyes locked in on your glistening pussy just begging to be kissed. Your lashes fluttered when you felt his hot breath fan your core. Might as well get all the use out of him that you could get.

He pressed open mouth kisses to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Sucking, licking, kissing around where you craved him most. The second those sinful lips latched onto your swollen clit, a carnal need washed over both of you as he devoured you whole. His tongue worked you in languid strokes as he made sure to lick up every last drop. Your orgasm was steadfast approaching as the coil in your stomach tightened. Your thighs clamped firmly around his head like a stubborn shell. If it were any other situation, you’d let him eat you for hours, days even, but you had to stick to your plan.

He wasn’t letting up easily as you used all your strength to push his head from between your thighs. His beard and lips were coated in your slick as he finally released you from his death grip. There was no time to catch your breath as his strong arms were already hosting you into his lap as he lazily rolled over onto his back with a soft grunt.

“Keep bein’ my good little lamb, and you’ll wake up every mornin’ with my head between your thighs.” He nearly purred as his hands anchored themselves around your hips. You could feel the head of his cock notching at your entrance as you slowly sank down against his bulky strong thighs. It took a mere moment for you to snap back into character and keep up with your charades as you wrapped your hand firmly around the base of his cock. “I’m going to take care of you now okay, Joel? You’ve been so good to me. I’m so grateful for your generous hospitality and your cock. I just want you to sit back and relax..can you do that for me, baby?” You held all the control in the palm of your hand as you slowly slid his tip between your slit. Your little noises of appreciation had his head spinning in circles as he squeezed your hips firmly.

“M’gonna keep you forever, just like this. Stuffed full of my cock. Filled to the fuckin’ brim.” He hissed between his teeth as you slowly inched yourself around him till he had filled you to the hilt. “M’so lucky to have a good little lamb like you, baby. My good little cockslut. It ain’t so bad, is it? Mmm..maybe you and I are more alike than you think.” He murmured with a lazy grin etched on his face as he gazed up at you through thick lashes.

“Of course i’ll be your good little lamb forever and ever, sir.” You played along as you slowly rolled your hips forward. “I’ll be so good to you just like you have been to me.” Now you had him right where you wanted him and it was only a matter of time. You affectionately played with his sweat stained curls, licked the musk from his neck as you inhaled his masculine aroma that seeped from his pores. You nipped at his flesh and left little love bites speckled across his skin. You fucked him the best way that you could, spending what was left of your dwindling energy to convince this man that you were submitting to him entirely. Each roll of your hips, and smack of your skin transported him to a new state of pure ecstasy. He didn’t last very long considering he was fairly spent himself. He let out a deep guttural animalistic grunt that ruptured from deep within his chest as he spilled his seed into you. He could feel both yours and his release drip down between where your bodies were connected. He praised in a soft tone, mumbling about how he was going to fall asleep just like this. “Y’stay right there, little lamb. Gonna keep you stuffed full of my cock all night.” He rasped as his lashes fluttered shut.

By all means, sir. Keep me stuffed full of your cock, because come morning, you’ll be waking up to an empty, cold, miserable bed. You fucking idiot.

He dozed off, still buried deep inside of your cunt as you sat there obediently. You listened to the sound of his breathing return to a normal rate as soft snores slipped past his parted lips. Only when you were certain that he wouldn’t awake from his sex induced slumber, did you finally slip off of his lap. You could feel the sticky residue of his come latching onto your thighs as his cock went soft. You gathered up the clothes he had given you as you rushed to dress and get the hell out of there. You were as quiet as a mouse as you crept out of his room. Your eyes zoned in on the rifle hanging along the hook next to the door.

You were so close to freedom you could almost taste it as you unlatched the door and began to slowly push the handle down–

“Where are you runnin’ off to, little lamb?” His tone was low and menacing as you felt the hardness of his chest press against your back. In one swift movement he had pulled the door shut with a heavy slam that rattled your bones to the core. You went to reach for his rifle but he was on you in a flash as he twisted your arms painfully behind your back. He knocked you forward against the wooden door with your cheek pressed firmly into the rough texture of the wood. When you didn’t respond to his original question, he asked again, but a lot less nicer.

“I said, where the fuck do you think you’re runnin’ off to, little lamb? Y’think you can play me for a goddamn fool?!” He bellowed. His harsh words bounced off the walls of the cabin as you struggled in his painful grip. “After I fed you, put clothes on your back and fucked you dumb, you think you can jus’ fuckin’ leave?!”

“Sir, I'm so sorry! You have it all wrong! I—just wanted to get some fresh air! I was going to come right back, I swear!” You took the pleading route in hopes that maybe he’d show you just a smidge of mercy. “I’d never leave you!”

He laughed darkly as he shoved you further into the door, creating little to no space for you to breathe. “Fuckin’ save it. You’re a goddamn filthy liar, little lamb! You were leavin’ me! What a fuckin’ shame too because you were being so so good. Pity, because I was actually thinking of letting you go myself.” He lied straight through his teeth as he forced his knee between your thighs and spread them apart. His hand that wasn’t holding your wrists painfully together wrapped around your middle as he yanked you roughly against his chest. His lips were right at your ear now. “You were being such a good little lamb for me, that I was beginning to feel sorry for taking you away..I was going to let you go first thing in the morning, but you just had to go and fuckin’ ruin it for yourself, huh?” He tsked

Fresh tears began to cascade down your face as you continued to try and break free. Your hope was quickly diminishing like a candle being blown out as he twisted your wrists at an unnatural angle. “PLEASE!” You begged, “I’m so sorry, sir! Please don’t kill me! I–I–can make it up to you, I swear!”

“Kill you? Oh, my dear sweet little lamb, you really haven’t been payin’ attention, have you? I’m not going to kill you. You’re far too pretty to be feasted on by some critters. That simply won’t do.” His hand that was securely wrapped around your middle snaked upwards as he roughly groped your breast through the fabric of your shirt. “Quit your fuckin’ squirming. You ain’t gettin’ yourself outta this one, little lamb.”

“Please, please let me go! I’m–I'm sorry for not being a good pet! I can do better! Please, Joel! You’re hurting me!” You cried out for mercy.

“Now, you’re gonna sit still and be a good little lamb, or I'll feed you to the wolves just outside my door.” He whispered harshly as he dropped his hand from around your breast only to then find the button on your pants before he yanked them down your thighs. Your pussy was sore and overstimulated when he pressed the ruddy head of his cock between your thighs. “Can’t you hear ‘em howlin?’ Bet they’re fistin’ their cocks right now thinkin’ about how your pretty little cunt would hug them so tight. S’only for me, right? This cunt belongs to me. Don’t fuckn’ gimme a reason to share.” He hissed as he harshly thrusted up into you, knocking the air from your lungs as his hand wrapped around your throat.

Your words came out as strangled cries as he continued to ram into you. “Can’tcha hear ‘em now? Beggin’ for this cunt. C’mon, little lamb. Scream for me. Let them know just how good daddy is treatin’ ya. Don’t you fuckin’ hold back.” His thumb and forefinger pressed firmly against your trachea making it harder for oxygen to reach your brain as your body went into distress mode. The more you fought, the tighter he held you. When you could begin to see stars dancing behind your eyelids, and your breath came out in a weak wheezing sound, he finally released you from his death grip.

You buckled over, gasping for air as your knees hit the floor with a sickening thud.

“Don’t you ever try to outsmart me again, little lamb.” He was standing over you like an ominous shadow as choked sobs raked through your body.

“Now, get the fuck back to bed, or i’ll drag you there myself.”

You took his threat seriously as you scrambled to your feet and scurried back to his room.

You never crossed him again, and for good reason. He apologized for his actions the next morning over breakfast. You weren’t very hungry, but forced yourself to eat for your own sake. Now you were his broken and submissive little lamb.

He did keep his promise of keeping you safe from all harm. Once enough trust was instilled, he allowed you to accompany him outside. He taught you all that he knew during those months. You found it hard to not begin to fall for him when he showed you his gentler side. It felt wrong, but right at the same time to love a man who was so cruel. He stripped you of your autonomy, and then stitched it right back together with his own needle and thread. You adapted to his lifestyle as if it was the back of your hand. Accompanying him on raids, torturing helpless individuals for the sheer thrill it felt to hold another person’s life in the palm of your hands.

Maybe you were sicker than he was.

This winter was proving to be unforgiving. Supplies and rations were low, and Joel’s men were growing antsy. Their leader was spending too much time tucked away in his cabin with you, and it was only a matter of time before someone would lash out. You were still fast asleep tucked away cozily in Joel’s warm bed while he called a meeting with the rest of the group.

“I say we head west. There ain’t nothin’ left here for us.” One of his men stated, and heads began to slowly nod in agreement.

“West? Why the hell would we go and do that? We got a decent territory here, and I'm this close to gettin’ us into the QZ. Jus’ have to twist a few more fingers to get us there. This ain’t the worst winter we’ve had. Don’t go and act like a bunch of fuckin’ pussies just because you’re afraid that your dicks are gonna freeze off.” He snapped.

“Easy enough for you to say, Miller. You’re the one who’s got a cockslut keepin’ you warm on the cold nights. What about the rest of us, huh? Can’t be bothered to share your prize?”

Joel could feel his blood begin to simmer as he slowly turned his head to the side. His eyes were narrowed into slits as his fists clenched tightly at his sides. “What the fuck did you jus’ call her?” His tone was eerily calm as he did his best to keep his temper at bay. You were off limits; end of story.

“You heard me. Bet that cockslut of yours was the one who suggested we stay here. That’s why it ain’t good to keep women around for long. They talk and talk and think that they have the answer for everything! Well, you know what I gotta say to that? Keep ‘em around to keep your cock warm and toss ‘em when they grow smart. That’s all they’re good for anyway. Jus’ a tight wet hole to fuck.”

The prominent veins in Joel’s neck bulged to the surface of his neck. His skin was so hot that the swirling flurries that landed on him immediately melted. His face grew red with rage. You were far more than just a hole to fuck. You were his little lamb, and god help any motherfuckers that dare disrespect his little lamb.

“I should fuckin’ carve your tongue out for that. She is not my cockslut.” If Joel’s men were smart, they’d back off while they still had the chance, but men will be men after all.

“Oh, please! Is her pussy really all that? Look at how soft you’ve gone, Miller! I say you dispose of her while you still have the chance. Oh, but before you do that, bring her out for a spin. We’ve been dyin’ to see what her cunt is all about.”

It was as if something inside of Joel had suddenly snapped and he found his hands constricted around the man’s neck. Joel had him pinned to the snow covered ground as the man thrashed around violently. No one dared to try and stop their leader until they heard the crunching of snow beneath boots as your voice drifted through the brewing blizzard like a rumbling echo

Joel’s head snapped in the direction of your voice as he loosened his grip around the man’s neck slightly. “Baby, what the fuck are you doin’ out here? It’s freezing! Get back inside–”

You were quick to cut him off as you approached the scene that was laid out in front of you. You ignored his present concern for your wellbeing as you crossed your arms over your chest. “What the fuck is going on here, Joel?”

“Seth said some shit that he really oughta have kept to himself. S’alright. I got this one handled. Why don’t you go on back home where it’s warm.”

“No. I want you to tell me what he said.” You stood firm

Joel eyed the rest of his men who were all looking much like sheep themselves. “He called you a cockslut, and that all a woman is good for is a tight wet hole to fuck.” He deadpanned.

You appeared unfazed sans the slight arch of your brow. “Really?” You scoffed. “How original. Don’t you think that strangling him is a bit too merciful?”

“Well, before you came out here, I threatened to carve his tongue out.”

“Oh?” You asked with a lopsided grin. “Now that is more your style, baby. Wanna use my knife? I just sharpened it the other day.”

Seth was nervously looking between yours and Joel’s sadistic grins as he struggled to escape. All Joel had to do was snap his fingers once for two of his men to then force Seth down by his shoulders, and physically pry his jaw open as he thrashed wildly on the ground.

“My little lamb, you’re so sick..y’know that?” He was already reaching for your outstretched knife before his hand encased around your wrist and gently tugged you down into the snow. “Front row seat jus’ for you, baby. Don’t worry, he’ll never say another word about you again.” he sealed his promise to you against your lips before he was pulling away to finish off the job.

“S’matter, Seth? Cat got your tongue?” Joel crooned as grabbed the back of his head and yanked it forward. “This oughta teach ya to respect women.”

“Joel–wait! Please don’t do this! I’m sorry! I’m–” Seth’s pleas were violently cut off when Joel sliced right through his tongue. Blood spattered and squirted from the gushing wound as his once attached muscle now laid limp in the snow.

“Oh, what was that? You’re sorry? It’s a bit too late for that, pal.” Joel spat before he picked up the chunk of Seth’s mutilated tongue and tossed it right into the nearby fire pit.

“Get him outta my sight before I decide to rip his throat out too. Tie him up to a tree a few miles from here. Leave him to the wolves. They’ll finish him off.” He demanded his men as he wiped the blood from your knife along Seth’s shirt.

His hand reached for yours to help you up from the ground. You held no shame to admit that watching Joel mutilate someone in front of you so willingly sent a wave of arousal gushing between your clenched thighs, and you probably would have fucked him right then and there and let his men watch because none of that really mattered anymore. You opted to pull him behind a cluster of trees instead as you dropped to your knees ceremoniously in the bitter cold snow that instantly bit at your exposed bare skin. Your hands clawed for his belt as you desperately unlatched it and shoved his jeans down his thighs swiftly. Your cheeks felt cold to the touch as Joel’s hand affectionately held your face in his warm palm as you pulled his stiff cock free. His heart swelled with pure pride for his good little lamb.

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 8 months

Text

Creep - Dark!Joel/Creepy Neighbour!Joel x Reader Dark fic.

Taking part in the Haunted Hoedown - I did a randomised one so here we goooo:

Prompts: Urban Legend(s), “I’m so close, can you feel it?”, fate worse than death, mirror sex, the creepy neighbour is too hot to be insane, right? Thank you @psychedelic-ink and @inklore for setting this up! [Extra thanks to @beefrobeefcal and @patti7dc for beta reading this to let me know if it hit right!] [Read on Ao3]

Part 2 of 3 here:

General Warnings: 18+, as is the whole of my blog, I will mark anything specific but be aware this is predominantly a smutty blog with plot. DNI if you are a minor. By reading further you have taken the responsibility to do so with the warnings I have given.

Specific warnings: This is a dark fic, it’s twisted af, Joel is a creep, Joel is mean and fucking nasty in this, drug use, dubcon(reader is high AF), coercion, mouth fucking, unprotected PiV, Creampie, breeding kink, degredation(lots of Joel calling Reader a slut/whore etc.), (heavy)stalker vibes, let me know if I missed anything! Enjoy you beautiful THOTs.

Creep.

You’d heard the stories, of the creepy neighbour down the hall, the one Jenny said to avoid like the plague. But she also thought that pot smoking was the work of the devil, and that sex before marriage was a fate worse than death. But you didn’t listen too hard, especially when you realised just how hot Mr Miller was. You’d bumped into him a few times when collecting your mail, or when you’d snuck up onto the roof to smoke.

Tonight is one of the latter. The fire escape rattles as you hear the tell-tale groan of Mr Miller, it’s weird how a pained groan could make your stomach flutter as heat rises on your cheekbones. You take a long drag, the tickling burn of pot threatening to make you cough but you stay quiet, waiting for him to make it up to the roof.

“Damned knee,” He grumbles to himself, cresting over the roof of the building like a bed-headed angel, fuck the pot is already affecting you as you giggle quietly at your own train of thought. The sound makes Joel perk up, dark eyes locking onto yours as he realises he’s not alone, “Hey there gorgeous.” He says with his syrupy Texan drawl dripping from every word.

“Evening Mr Miller.” You say as you take another hit, flicking the ash over the side of the building. Your legs dangle over the edge, feet bare in the oppressive New York summer air.

“Please, sweetheart call me Joel.” He says with an exasperated sigh, as he trudges over to you, his equally bare feet slapping softly on the flat rooftop.

“Mind if I join you?” He asks, sitting just far enough away from you to give you some space.

“Never,” You say as you offer him your blunt, which he willingly accepts, “Always a riveting conversation with you Mr-, I mean Joel.” You giggle to yourself, the high already making you feel light and airy as you can’t help the stream of giggles that erupt from your lips as Joel eyes you with a look you can’t quite perceive.

“You been up here long sweetheart?” He asks and you swear he inches closer to you, but you either don’t care, or the weed is just making you horny and hopeful. Maybe it’s all of the above.

“Not long, just been a long week.” You say airily as you watch the older man purse his lips around the tip of the joint, you feel the ache between your legs build as you watch the tendrils of smoke escape from his mouth as he exhales.

“It’s Tuesday sweetheart.” He chuckles, handing you back the joint and for a second your fingers brush against one another and you find yourself chasing his touch. His eyes sparkle in the darkness as he notices your parted lips, knees clamped together as you try and relieve some of the ache in your soaked cunt.

“Don’t remind me.” You grumble as you lie back on the rooftop, a heavy sigh leaving you as you try not to think about how hot Joel is, how his grey sweatpants leave nothing to the imagination. You also try very hard not to get caught staring as you realise his dark eyes are glued to you.

“You ok there babygirl?” The new nickname makes your cunt throb and you know your eyes are wide and glassy as you try to make up an excuse.

“Sorry just-,” You start but Joel lies down next to you stretching his arms above his head, the hem of his t-shirt pulling up far enough that you get a glimpse of the stretch of tan skin, dappled with curls leading down to the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Just what babygirl? You checking out this old dog?” He grumbles but you can hear the humour in his tone.

“Maybe,” You say with yet another string of giggles as you, “What of it?”

“Just surprised such a beautiful girl like you would be interested in someone like me.” He says with a shrug as a chuckle escapes his lips.

“Whaddaya mean? Like you?” You ask, already noting how slurred your speech has become.

“Creepy old neighbour, sniffin’ up all the girls skirts, and so on.” He says with a sigh, as if it actually pained him to say the words.

“Don’t think you’re creepy, pretty hot for an old man.” You say with a giggle, trying to lighten the mood, and it seems to work as he barks out a short laugh.

“Don’t tease babygirl, not nice to kick a man when he’s down.” He grumbles but you can hear the levity in his tone.

“Not teasing, not unless you want me to.” You say as you roll onto your side, looking at him as he mirrors your actions, rolling on his side, you’re almost nose to nose now, the tension between you is palpable as you wet your lips in anticipation.

“You’re high babygirl, don’t go makin’ decisions you’ll regret in the mornin’.” He grumbles but you can hear the strain in his voice. You throw caution to the wind and palm the growing bulge straining against his sweatpants. The moan that escapes him tells you all you need to know as you press your lips softly against his. They’re chapped, warm, plush.

“Take me to bed Joel.” You say softly as you pull back, his eyes are glassy, pupils saucers as he bites down on his lip as he considers it.

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” He growls and brushes his lips against yours once more before pulling away to roll onto his feet, offering his hand out to you, muscles rippling as he hoists you up.

He helps you down the fire escape, steadying you on the gantries as you try your hardest not to fall helplessly to your demise. Once you’re back at your floor you’re crawling through the window to the hall, stumbling against the wall as your legs wobble.

“Easy there,” Joel coos as he grips your elbow, steading you as he pulls you close, “Your place or mine?” He says softly as he rubs his thumbs back and forth against your biceps.

“Yours, mine’s a dump, don’t want to scare you off.” You admit with a giggle and he rolls his eyes at you as he steers you to his apartment, you note that the door is unlocked as he pushes you into the dimly lit living room.

Immediately his mouth is on yours, a large hand grips your hip, pinning you to him, the other fisted in your hair as he pushes you further into his apartment. Your hands claw at one another’s bodies, stripping you both bare to the humid air as you crash into the unmade bed. All you can smell is Joel, the musk on his bedsheets, the waft of his detergent. It’s all consuming.

“Look at you.” He says darkly as he stands at the end of the bed, bare for you, one hand rubbing the patchy stubble on his chin as the other pumps his length slowly. And length is the right word for it, he’s so big you shudder.

“Mr Miller please.” You whine as you clench around nothing.

“Such a needy brat, c’mere.” He beckons and you scamper up onto your knees to look at him. He smirks and pushes down on your shoulder with one hand, the other still secure on his cock. You’re forced to sit back on your ankles as he pulls your head towards his angry, red tip, beading with precome already.

“Please Mr Miller, fuck me.” You whine as you eye his dick hungrily. You expect him to become bashful, disheartened, but there’s a darkness that settles over his eyes, his posture shifts.

“Suck.” He says with a grunt as he fists his hand in your hair, tugging painfully but you groan at the sensation as your lips are forced against his tip. You whimper as you take the tip into your mouth, suckling gently as your tongue flattens along the underside.

“Fuck, dirty little mouth, knew you were just fucking begging for it, seen the way you look at me babygirl.” He grunts as he rocks his hips slowly, pushing further and further into your mouth. You’ve only got about half of him in your mouth and you’re already struggling. He laughs at you, a cold, condescending sound.

“Shouldn’t pretend to be such a slut if you’re not willing to take my cock babygirl.” He growls as he pulls your head back, opening your throat up for him so he can force the rest of his brutal length into you. His balls rest heavy on your chin as you choke and splutter around him, saliva dripping down your cheeks as you cry at the stretch.

“Fuck, come with me.” He grunts as he unsheathes himself from your mouth, yanking you up with such force your shoulder hurts. He pushes you into his bathroom, bending you over the sink so hard you almost hit the mirror with your head.

“Mr Miller, please, I’m sorry.” You whimper, the anticipation of him fucking you with such a big dick making you shake. But you’re excited at the same time, a sick and twisted desire leaking from you as your arousal coats your thighs.

“Too fuckin’ late sweetheart,” He growls as he notches himself at your entrance, “You wanna act like a slut, gonna treat you like one.”

You cry out as he stretches you out, squirming under him as he bottoms out. You’re so full, raw and split open but it feels so damned good. He fists your hair again and pulls you off the sink to look at him in the mirror. His face is contorted in a sick snarl, you can’t help but whine at how he looks. Dominant and brutal as he uses you.

“Look at you, all fucked out on my thick cock, spearing you like the good little slut you are.” He growls as he fucks into you at pace, not giving you a moment to adjust but it feels too good. You’re drooling, blissed out as a hand comes to your clit, thick, calloused fingers swiping furiously against your swollen bundle of nerves.

“Wanna feel you milk this cock dry little fucking slut.” He growls as he pistons into you as he expertly plays you like a fucking instrument. You feel your release slide down your spine, making your whole body shudder as your clit twitches painfully. You scream as his dick slams into you, your orgasm blurring the edges of fantasy and reality as you fall apart around him.

“Fu-fuuuuck.” Joel groans as he snaps his hips into you a few more times.

“Joel I’m not on birth control.” You babble, the realisation finally hitting you that he isn’t going to pull out.

“Too fuckin’ late you dumb slut, going to fill you up, ‘m so close, can you feel it?” He taunts as you feel him stutter inside you, the sensation of his cum filling you has you whining. It feels so fucking good.

“Fuck.” He grunts as he pulls out of you, immediately walking away, you stagger upright only to have your clothes thrown at you.

“Get dressed and get the fuck out of my apartment you fucking whore.” He snaps and you do as your told, trembling as you dress before scurrying across the hall. You fumble with your keys, as you unlock the door and quickly slip inside, locking the door from within as you slump to a heap against the door.

Your smile is so broad it hurts as you make yourself get up and head to bed, not bothering to shower. You flop down onto the pristinely made bed and laugh to yourself as you prop a pillow under your tailbone, staring up at the ceiling as you hope it takes. You’re ovulating after all.

You smile to yourself as you look up at the collage above you. Blown up photos of Joel from his social media, snaps you took on the sly on nights like tonight on the rooftop, that one time you caught him jacking off on the roof while high on god knows what. Your secret shrine on full display as you pray his seed will take. He thought he was in control, fucking you like he was the one pulling the strings but he was wrong, so very wrong.

“You’re going to be mine Miller, all fucking mine,” You groan as you play with your clit, arching your hips up so no more of his spend leaves you, “All fucking mine.”

Part 2 of 3 here:

Tagging for interest: @beefrobeefcal @cool-iguana @gracieispunk @toxicanonymity

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mannaima · 1 year

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My Best Friend Joel (part three)

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

(part 1) (part 2)

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

Word count: 2.5K (yes short i know)

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

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

He wanted to leave.

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

He just wasn’t gonna tell you.

----------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He had to deal with it.

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

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

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

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

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

“D-Do you wanna have… S-Sex?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----------

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

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

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

And every single time, he came inside you.

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

----------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You two were going to be parents.

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

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #dark! joel miller x reader #joel miller dark fic #dark!joel miller x reader #dark! joel miller #tlou #tw dubcon #tw babytrapping #tw pregnancy #joel the last of us #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut

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toxicanonymity · 6 months

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leopard print.

4.5k, joel x f!reader; special guest in tags

SUMMARY: Depraved one shot based on this. Joel mistakes you for a sex worker, offers you a ride, Fs you, shares you and is mildly possessive about it.

WARNINGS: I8+ strangers, drugs, talk of sex work, unsafe public P in V, dubcon (drugs/alc, not noticeably intoxicated), cockwarming, degradation, pantygagging, creampies, car stuff, orgasm delay m, vaginal plugging, voyeurism, sharing. Unedited.

A/N: Night walks vibes, but different too. You'll see. New fantasy for myself 😫

"And if I was workin'?" You ask. He gives a low whistle. "Wouldn't know where to start," he murmurs. "But I can tell ya how it'd end." He looks at your skirt. . . "She'd be wrecked n' beggin' for more, baby." Your fingers absentmindedly graze your chest. . . He sticks the joint in his mouth and shamelessly adjusts himself with both hands, tucking it into his waistband.

You pull into the gas station on the back of your friend's motorcycle. "When I fuel up, I'm outta here," he warns you. Oh well. If you have to walk back to your friend's condo, it's only two blocks. He's grumpy – You and your girlfriends have been a hot mess at the pool all day playing floating beer pong and licking alcoholic whipped cream off each other. He didn't wanna take you with him in the first place. No helmet, no reasonable shoes, not even a shirt.

You swing your leg off the motorcycle and as you step down onto the ground with your red wedges, you adjust your cheap, stretchy leopard print miniskirt. It matches, or clashes, with your leopard print bikini. You leave your sunglasses on as you enter the gas station with a chime. You fish a damp $20 out of your bikini top and survey the snacks.

You feel someone lurking nearby, but ignore it until you hear a deep, smooth voice. "Nice rosettes."

"s’cuse me?"

You turn only slightly toward the man. Maybe homeless. Good looking like a washed up rockstar. He gestures toward your bikini top. "That's a nice set'a rosettes." You look down at your tits spilling out of your push-up bikini top, then you look back at his face. Handsome man, really. Salt and pepper beard. Full head of dark hair with a little gray. Sunkissed skin. His eyes are kind and glassy. His nose twitches. "Oh, that's what leopards call their spots. Rosettes."

You laugh uncomfortably.

“Yeah, the ones on your top, those are pretty good.” His eyes drift down your body. “Skirt doesn’t really have’em right. Still nice though.”

"Thanks." You politely nod and return to looking at the snacks, ignoring him in the corner of your eye.

He doesn’t leave. He only gets closer. He looks you up and down and steps into your personal space. He lowers his voice. "You, uh, workin'?"

No, you don't work there. Do you look like you work at the gas station? Your stomach turns as you realize what he means, and your face goes cold. You stare at him, and your eyes drift to a hole in his shirt right below the collar. "Am I WHAT?" You ask incredulously, but trying to be quiet. Your whole body feels hot at the implication. You're humiliated, but for some reason it makes you warm between the thighs, too.

His eyes go wide, and he puts his hands up in surrender. "Sorry," he mumbles, then adds, "A man can dream,” as he backs away.

Your heart races and flutters and you scold yourself for being flattered. You end up in line behind the guy. And the line takes forever, giving you plenty of time to fume and also wonder about him. It's nothing against sex work – Work is work. But you'd like to think you wouldn't be picking up a rough looking guy in a gas station. Your friend's motorcycle revs outside. You look out the window and he's there by the curb waiting for you. You could drop the snacks on the closest rack and get the heck out. But for some reason, you stay in line, and not because you’re that hungry.

Someone needs to scoot behind you and you're forced to step into the sleazy man's personal space. He smells far better than you would have imagined. Woodsy and fresh. Somehow that makes all the difference, like he's not a filthy vagrant after all. He just had the aesthetic. Which is kinda hot. Your friend on the motorcycle shakes his head, revs his engine again, then drives away.

"Asshole," you mutter.

The man in front of you (your aspiring john) glances back and again mutters, "sorry." He scratches the back of his neck and exposes a chain under his ratty t-shirt. He really does have a nice head of hair, and now you see there’s a joint behind his ear, too. Maybe he’s just a hippy.

"Not you," you mumble. Well, not only him. Both of them.

He turns to face you. "I know. Saw ya roll in." Great, so he thought that was your pimp. "Want a ride?"

"Nah, I’m close," you mutter without looking right at him, then mumble, “thanks.”

He wets his lips and stares at your chest for a moment before adding, "ya sure?" And now that you know this man smells good, wears a chain, and has a ride, you're throbbing. You cross your arms and bite your lip looking at his handsome nose while his kind eyes search yours in anticipation.

"Okay," you whisper.

"Hell yeah," he whispers back with half a smile, getting a little closer, like the two of you are plotting something.

"But I'm not workin'," you remind him.

"Heard ya the first time, gorgeous." He winks at you.

He tries to buy your food for you. When you don't let him, he nods with a smirk. He crosses his big arms, plastic bag that reads “thank you” hanging from one of them, and waits for you. Then he holds the door open on your way out.

He checks you out as you pass through the door frame. You take your sunglasses off and put them in the bag with your snacks.

"Name's Joel." When you don't tell him yours, there’s a new smirk in his voice when he says, "don't gotta tell me your real name, if ya got a street name or somethin'. . ."

"Jerk." You punch his arm and mostly suppress a laugh.

He smiles and brings a massive hand to his bicep to pretend like it hurts, and for the first time it hits you how muscular he is.

"Truck's around back." He nods toward the back of the store. He walks slightly behind you. You feel his eyes boring a hole in your ass. Then you feel the warmth of his massive palm on the small of your back and he gets closer to you as he curves his hand around your side. "Too damn hot, baby. Had me thinkin' with my dick is all." Your face heats up and you glance at him. “I’ll carry that for ya.” He takes your bag.

He's parked around a corner out of view. Between some bushes and a closed library for some reason. His truck is nice, and it's big. Tinted windows. The back window of the cab says Miller Brothers. It's sunset, so you're grateful for the ride, lest any other low lifes make the same mistake on your walk back. When y'all get to his truck, he lets his hand slide down your hip. He opens the driver’s seat and puts the bags inside. Then he leans against his truck and adjusts himself. He's wearing pinstripe lounge pants. "Can't really blame me, can ya?" He raises his eyebrows. He scans you top to bottom again. "God damn, baby."

You laugh and look down shyly, unsure whether to thank him. His eyes don't leave your body at all. "To be fair, I thought you were homeless," you admit.

He exhales a laugh and shrugs. "Where ya headed?"

"Back to my friend’s pool."

"Hungry?"

"Nah."

"Smoke?" So that’s why you’re still outside the truck. You shouldn't, but you hesitate curiously.

You lean against the bed of his truck with your elbow resting on its edge, facing him.

"Fuck you're sexy," he mutters to himself. "Helluva rack but I'm an ass man, c'mere."

He turns toward you so he's leaning with his left side on the driver's side of the truck. He puts his right hand on your hip, rotating you so you're facing the truck. "Mmmmm." He puts his hand on the small of your back again, then slides it down–slowly, experimentally, cautiously enough for you to stop him. You don't. You're throbbing. He grabs your ass–his palm is huge. You glance at him and watch his eyes study the curve of your body. Deep down in your body, you know you're gonna fuck him. You both know it. With his left hand he retrieves the joint from behind his ear and puts it in his mouth unlit.

He sucks in a breath around the joint and lifts the flesh of your closest ass cheek. When he lets it drop, a growl escapes his chest.

He fishes a lighter out of his soft pants pocket and lights up. and as he inhales, once again he can't keep his eyes off your body. He takes the joint out of his mouth and turns your face toward his. You rotate toward him and he gets close, your bodies almost touching. He looks to your eyes for permission and begins to slowly exhale downward, so it's yours if you want it. You bring your mouth closer to his and he angles the smoke more toward your mouth as you suck it up. The moment seems to last forever and your lower belly is on fire.

The sunset washes everything in a pink hue. When his lungs are empty, he murmurs "good girl" and rests his hand on your hip, lightly running his palm over your stretchy little miniskirt, feeling the bump toward the top hem where your bikini tie is. He peels the top of your stretchy skirt down to expose the knot and pulls at the string. You let him untie it. The parking lot is empty and wet from an earlier rain.

"Fuck you're hot," he mutters with the strings of your bikini hanging over the miniskirt on that side. He takes another puff and passes you the joint. You take only a small inhale. "C'mere," he murmurs and his hand on your waist nudges your side off the truck and pulls you closer to him. He unties that side of your bottoms the same way.

"And if I was workin'?" You ask.

He gives a low whistle. "Wouldn't know where to start," he murmurs. "But I can tell ya how it'd end." He looks at your skirt.

You ask, "How's that?"

He doesn't take his eyes off your skirt. "She'd be wrecked n' beggin' for more, baby." Your fingers absentmindedly graze your chest, feeling where your tits spill over the cups. "Careful sugar," he chuckles. "Start me up, I won't ever stop." He sticks the joint in his mouth and shamelessly adjusts himself with both hands so his cock is upright and held in his waistband. He offers the joint again and you decline. He pinches it out and puts it back behind his ear. "Damn," he mutters, still checking you out. He rubs his hand over his cock through his soft pants. "But ya *ain’t* workin'. . . so ya got nothin' to worry 'bout," he adds with a twinkle in his eye. "''Less ya want it . . ." God, you do. You want it.

"Wrecked, huh?" You challenge him.

He sighs and his big hand on your hot skin rotates you back toward the truck. You hang your elbows over the side of the truck bed. He slinks behind you, then lets the heft of his cock against your ass crack. You gasp at how nice and hard it is. It moves against you and he sucks in a breath through his teeth then lets out a, "Mmm" as he exhales. He rolls his hips against you and uses both hands on your hips to pull your ass back into him so you're off the truck.

He holds you with one arm around your waist and his other hand slides between your legs from the front, up your skirt. "Bad girl, ain't ya?" His hand skims up your inner thigh to the crotch of your swimsuit, hanging loosely now that it's untied on both sides. "Yeah, ya are,” he answers for you. He slides two thick fingers through your folds and you sigh, tilting your head back. "Spread your legs for a stranger?." His voice is deep and gruff and makes you throb. “S’okay, not just any stranger.” His other hand grabs a tit while he runs his fingers through your dripping folds, then begins to circle your clit with his drenched digits. "Oh she's beggin' for it, baby," he murmurs.

He lets your weight against the truck again so his forearm is between you and the metal with his hand still between your legs. His cock presses against your ass at a slow rhythm, making your insides swell with need for him as he fingers your clit. You squirm and your hips rock into his hand. You whimper and he brings his mouth to your ear. "Five hundred," he whispers.

You gasp and he adds, "Not you. . .I'm workin' now, baby" as he speeds up on your clit. "I'm a penthouse boy, but that's your back alley discount."

"Fuck you," you laugh.

"First one's free if i cum inside," he murmurs into your neck. Then he grabs the crotch of your swimsuit and yanks it down, pulling it off entirely. He pins you to the truck with his cock against your ass. He shoves the swimsuit in your mouth and ties the strings behind your head. You taste the chlorine and your own arousal. You turn your head to look behind you and he reassures you no one can see.

His hand returns between your legs and he slips one, then two thick, wet fingers into you. Your cunt squelches obscenely around his digits. "Hell yeah, hear her beggin' for me?". He frees his cock from his pants and keeps fingering you. Then he slides his fingers out and your walls twitch at the loss. He wedges his cock under your skirt and it’s so big you have to spread your legs more. He runs the head through your folds and you’re gushing. As the head massages your clit, you moan into the swimsuit in your mouth. "Want the first one free, don't ya?" He taunts into your neck, dragging his lips along the delicate skin. "Want me to fill up this filthy hole?" You nod, desperate to feel him inside you. "First with this cock, then all the cum ya can hold," he murmurs and you nod. You tilt your hips and spread your legs. "Good," he breathes. "Good girl." He notches himself with the curve of his tip just inside. "Ready to swallow me whole, hot damn."

You push back on him and he says, "shit," and pushes into you. He slides right into you, spreading your cunt wide open with a groan into your neck. It's a delicious stretch and he fills you to the brim, bottoming out on the first go. "God damn, sugar." He retreats and slides his thick cock into you again, sheathing it entirely with your dripping cunt. You weren't even sure you could take this cock but it's perfect. "Fuck, you feel good," he pants and twitches inside you. If he comes early you're going to laugh but you pray he won't. He begins to roll his hips at a steady rhythm, and you moan into the swimsuit. He breathes heavily against your neck and bites and sucks you. You adjust your hips and push back on him to his rhythm.

"Take it like a pro," he pants, "an' you're tight, too. Damn." His right hand works your clit. His left hand comes to your throat, thumb on the left side of it, fingers on the right. Choke me, you think. Do it. But he doesn't. He licks and kisses at the left side of your throat, by his thumb. Then his fingers on the right of your neck tense for leverage and he plants his teeth on the left side of your neck. He sucks hard and moans into you as he sucks more, like he's thirsty for blood. Your neck aches under the grip of his mouth. He breathes through his nose, and when he finally breaks with a gasp, he fucks you harder, grunting and sighing.

You moan and he pulls your top down under your tits. A breeze and the rustling of branches nearby reminds you of the danger and you shiver. Your nipples harden under his forearm and palm and your cunt spasms. He groans behind your ear and you whimper and arch your back.

"Gonna come on this cock?"

You can only whimper again in response.

"Go 'head, baby," he breathes and reaches for your clit again, groping a breast with his other hand.

You bite down on the swimsuit and your body jerks into his as you come undone. "Oh yeah," he sighs. "Fuck yeah, ohhh baby." He thrusts into you harder and you moan as your cunt chokes his cock, and with another powerful thrust he bottoms out and begins to erupt with a long sigh, pulsing warmly inside you. Then he reaches for your face and pulls down the swimsuit gag. As you gasp for air, he turns your head toward him. He kisses you deeply with his cock still rutting deep and slow inside you, pulsing the last of his seed into your depths. He moans into your mouth. And when your lips disconnect, he looks at you softly. Your eyes lock for a few seconds, more intimately than you’d expect. Then you feel awkward, and look at the back of his truck–Miller Brothers. You say the first thing that comes to mind. "Joel Miller, huh?" You cringe at yourself.

He raises his eyebrows. "What, like the sound'a Miller?"

Your face goes hot and you make a joke to change the subject. "Your brother’a penthouse boy too?"

Joel's cock slides out of you and you feel empty. He starts to fix your swimsuit top and says, "Somethin' like that. . .I'll introduce ya," as he finishes straightening it. What are you, dating now?

You start to protest, "Oh, I dunno," then pivot to something more agreeable but noncommittal. “Sure, maybe sometime.”

—---

Joel walks you to the passenger side. What a gentleman. He opens the door for you. The seat isn't empty. There's a handsome man with longer, curly hair, a sexy smile, and his hands in his lap.

"Name’s Tommy," Joel says behind you. "My lil bro."

When Tommy lifts a hand to give you a little salute, you see his cock is out of his pj pants. "Howdy, sweetheart." He's not even shy about it. He raises his eyebrows and holds it at attention for you, thick and hard. Butterflies swarm in your stomach and you can't take your eyes off it. "Kept the seat warm for ya," Tommy beams.

"Go on, sugar," Joel nods to Tommy's lap. "’fore my cum leaks out everywhere."

Your heart races and your clit throbs. It feels like you're in a dream. This is so lewd and vile. But you just got pounded in a parking lot, and who's gonna know, and who cares. You wanna sit on that cock.

You look at Joel and he shrugs. "Don't gotta, but it's there." He leans in and gives you a kis, then murmurs "An’ she won't be leakin’ all over." He chuckles, then kisses you again. Damn, he’s a good kisser. When his head pulls back, you give him a devious, inquisitive look. and he says, "that's my girl." He helps you up and you scrunch up your skirt more. "She's hot as fuck, man," he tells his brother.

You're facing the windshield, and it's like Tommy’s just part of the seat. It's a large truck so there's enough clearance over your head. Tommy's large hands come to your thighs.

"I got her," Joel says and Tommy moves his right hand to hold his cock for you. You tilt your hips and Tommy notches himself at your hole, which is still pulsing with an occasional aftershock. Before too much of Joel's cum can trickle down Tommy's cock, they both pull you down on him and you're stuffed full once again.

"Good girl," Tommy whispers. Joel looks at you lustily and reaches his hand between your legs. He gives your clit a little rub, and you spasm on Tommy’s cock with an aftershock from Joel.

"Goddamn," Tommy mutters.

"Yeah," Joel whispers, then gives you another kiss. He shoots Tommy a serious look. "Don't fuckin' come inside her."

"I know, I know." Tommy hugs you back into his broad chest. "I’ain’t nothin' but a seat, honey. A seat and a plug." The crudeness makes you twitch.

Joel shuts the passenger door and goes back around to the driver's side. Tommy murmurs softly behind your ear. "Ya feel nice, though."

Joel buckles his seatbelt and starts the engine. Tommy rests his hands casually on your hips and his thick cock twitches inside you. He clears his throat.

"Tellin' ya, man," Joel warns.

"Nothin' to worry 'bout, brother," Tommy reassures him, playing it cool. "You used her up good."

Joel backs up the truck and asks, "Where to?"

You tell him the building. It's already in view in the distance as you approach the street to pull out from the parking lot. "There," you point to it. Joel opens his Takis and puts a few in his mouth. Your walls are hugging Tommy's cock as Joel eats his snack and drives. You bounce on Tommy's thick cock as Joel pulls onto the main street, immediately getting stuck at a red light. You moan, and Tommy stifles a grunt then whispers "shhhh," into your hair. It's not a long way. But you're stuck in traffic.

"What do you listen to?" Joel asks and turns on the radio. It's on the local classic rock station.

"That works," you mumble, laid back against Tommy's barrel chest with your eyes half closed. While Joel is focused on the road, Tommy wedges his hand under one of the push-up cups of your bikini.

Tommy sighs, then whispers into your right ear where Joel can’t see. "Sexy little thing ain't ya." His cock twitches. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying not to moan. He lightly pinches your nipple then fixes your suit again. God his cock feels good. You're almost to your friends condo, but you don't want it to be over.

"Can you, uh–can you take me to my place instead?" You ask

Joel looks at you and cocks an eyebrow. "Not back to the pool?" You shake your head sleepily. "Tuckered out, huh?” he chuckles. “That's okay baby. Where ya live?"

You tell him the apartment complex. It's a couple miles further. "Good girl," Tommy whispers, pleased to have you on his cock a little longer. As Joel drives, you feel Tommy subtly lifting his hips. The bumps in the road have you bouncing on him too. And with the slow traffic, wearing nothing but a bikini top and a miniskirt, you catch a few stares, even through the dark tinted windows. It turns you on more. It turns Joel on, too. He's hard again and rubbing himself over his pj's which are wrecked with drying drops of his cum, your juices, and a darker new spot of precum. Tommy’s cock is so thick, and it throbs, and occasionally twitches, and you can so freshly conjure the feeling of Joel pounding you too, whispering filth into your ear.

Your body’s building toward another climax, but you’re trying not to let it. Your cunt spasms, and Tommy's chest expands under your back with a deep inhale. "Shhh, it's okay," he murmurs. You’re almost there.

"Joel, i–" you reach over for him. He looks at your face and does a double take. "Shit," he peels into the closest corner. "It's okay, hold on for me sugar."

Tommy moans, trying so hard not to cum. "You better fuckin not,” Joel growls at Tommy. Joel takes off his seat belt as he parks and urgently takes his cock out. "C'mere baby," Joel reaches for you. Tommy groans and you feel a little pulse as he hoists you off his cock. Your cunt twitches, trying to hang onto Tommy, not wanting to let him go. Tommy erupts as his cock slides out of you and his cum paints your folds. He moans through it, cock in his hand, cum gurgling onto his fist, head tilted back, eyes closed.

Meanwhile Joel pulls you toward him and your cunt is beginning to flutter ever so slightly around nothing, but you’re staving off a full climax. You kneel on the empty seat between them and Joel urgently pulls you into straddling him. His cheeks are flushed and his face is serious. "yeah, I got ya baby." He wets his lips, then his mouth hangs open as his tip finds your hole and he pulls you down on his dick, even thicker than you remember. "Hell yeah," he whispers and you're packed full of cock again. "Uungghh yeah," Joel lifts his hips into you and you cum on his cock right away.

"Oh fuck," you gasp, "Joel–ugghgh," you moan unrestrained and tilt your head back. He catches it in his hand and brings your face to his. You clench around his cock and he fucks up into you slowly. Your lips break with moans from each of you as you cum on his cock and he moves you. He hugs you into him and latches onto the unmarked side of your neck. Then your clit is grinding into him as he keeps moving you on him while your climax wanes.

"So damn hot, baby. Really take it like a pro." His words make you spasm again, and Joel groans. He rocks you on his cock, biting his lip. You can tell from how quiet he is, he’s trying not to cum so fast. But he can’t help it and after a minute, he asks, "Ready for another load?" You nod, desperate to feel him pulse inside you. "Think ya can handle it?"

You nod and roll your hips into him. You could come again, too.

"Hell yeah, that's my bad girl–oh, fuck, fuck–ohhh.” He grunts from the back of his throat as his cock pulses enormously inside you, adding to his first load. As his moan wanes, his lips latch onto yours again. Your lips move together, and you begin to clench around his cock again, whimpering into his mouth with the pleasure. It seems to last forever. When your lips break, he reads your eye and mutters, "fuck, you're hot.”

He breathes heavily while his pulses continue but echo smaller and smaller, as with your aftershocks on him. He sits back against the seat for a moment catching his breath. "You're somethin' else," he whispers, then looks around outside. "What unit are you?"

You tell him your apartment number and point out the building. You stay impaled on his cock as he drives to that building. He nuzzles his nose and mouth into your neck. He parks the car, then spends another moment with you. He nibbles your neck, presses sweet kisses into your jaw, fixes your hair, then whispers, "Nice to meet ya, sugar."

Tommy gets out of the truck and walks around to the driver’s side, and opens Joel’s door. Joel kisses you goodbye, deeply, with tongue, and helps hoist you off his cock. Tommy helps you down out of the truck while Joel tucks his cock away. Tommy gives you a hug and kisses you on the cheek. Then they drive away and leave you wrecked and wanting more.

---------

thank you so much for reading and engaging! I really love and appreciate y'all.

For more Joel and Tommy, check out stuffing.

if you liked this joel... you'd like the night walks AU, If you like the sharing with a hint of dominance/possessiveness, I think walkintotheriveranddisappear has a gang bang where only Joel can cum inside. I have Tommy's hard day (established free use relationship with Joel)

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EDIT - alright I've gotten several messages this week saying notifs aren't working. I think they might be delayed for some people but idk what to do. I guess I'm temporarily bringing this back but idk if it's even the most recent list 🤡 please subscribe to notifs on toxicfics if you haven't already. If you haven't been getting notifs, you can see the most recent fics you missed on toxicfics.

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@within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading @daddy-dins-girl

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #toxicanonymity ☠️#tommy miller x reader #tommy miller smut #cw dubcon #tw dubcon #cw dub con #tw dub con #night walks!joel

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joelsgreys · 27 days

Text

conflicted

Raider! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: Your captor gives you a bath. You have some conflicting feelings when he touches you.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. RAIDER ERA. DARK!JOEL. DUBCON. also tagging elements of NONCON just to be on the safe side. UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 50). READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION. mentions of Joel’s group murdering reader’s group, Joel killed her father, mention of blood, Joel pretty much kidnaps reader and keeps her as his own. pet names (baby, babygirl, honey, pretty girl, little girl), daddy kink, very minimal editing.

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS.

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

word count: <1k

a/n: this is a bit less than a blurb. a blurb of a blurb. a blurbette, if you will. i shelled it out in like less than an hour. to me it is part of the captive universe, but can be read as a standalone! please be advised that this is not fleshed out at all, i just felt like writing something that didn’t require too much brain power.

He pours one last pail of hot water into the tub.

“How’s the water?” he asks you.

His voice is so deep. Rich, like molasses.

It’s also laced with a southern accent, you’d noticed.

Aware he’s still waiting for an answer, you shrug.

He tries again. “S’not too hot, is it?”

He had ordered one of the women in the group to start a fire and boil water collected from the stream they had stumbled upon just a mile south of the small cottage.

“Seriously, Joel?” Angela had glared at him. “I am not a fucking maid.” Hands planted on her hips, she foolishly added, “If I’m gonna haul and boil water for a bath, it’s gonna be for me, alright? Not for that little fucking brat of yours.”

His switchblade had gone straight to her throat.

“Fuckin’ say that again,” Joel hissed, the sharp edge of the blade lightly slicing into her flesh. “Call her that one more time and see what fuckin’ happens.”

She apologized and then got to work, completing the task within a couple of hours.

Finally, you answer his question.

“Water’s fine,” you mumble. It’s hot, but not scalding.

“Good.”

Joel kneels beside the tub.

Flinching, you hunch over and pull your legs up against your chest.

It doesn’t matter. He’s already seen you naked.

He’s the one who had undressed you, after all.

Dipping a washcloth into the water, Joel instructs, “Sit up straight, honey.”

Honey.

The pet name makes you feel sick to your stomach.

You’re not his honey. You’re his prisoner.

He frowns, the creases between his brows deepening.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, pretty girl.”

Obediently, you nod and the water sloshes around you as do what he says.

You saw what he was capable of. You’re terrified of him.

With a satisfied hum, he begins washing you.

It had been three days since the massacre. Joel gently scrubs away the crimson caked onto your skin and the color of the water turns to rust. You don’t know whose blood you’ve been wearing—could it be your father’s?

He had been standing in front of you when his life was taken by the very same man that knelt beside you. Had his blood splattered on you? Was it being cleaned off by the same man who had so violently spilled it?

Your stomach lurches at the thought.

He had been trying to protect you during the ambush.

Your father had been trying to fucking protect you.

And Joel Miller had killed him.

He had killed him just to get to you.

Joel runs the washcloth down your arm, his dark gaze dragging over every inch of your body. “Such a pretty, pretty little girl,” he murmurs. Dropping the washcloth into the water, he gently cups one of your breasts in his large hand. He sweeps his thumb over your nipple and lightly teases the pebbled flesh, his digit circling it until it becomes a stiff peak.

Your eyes flutter closed and you inhale sharply.

There’s a strange feeling in your lower belly.

Strange because it’s not entirely unpleasant.

He trails his hand lower, raking over your tummy.

Lower.

He rests his palm over the mound of your pussy.

Gasping, your thighs clench together.

You’d like to think it’s to keep him out, to keep him from violating you further, but the burning pressure building in between your hips seems to be saying otherwise.

Horrified, you squeeze your thighs even tighter.

No. Don’t let him in.

But what if your resistance led him to force his way in?

You shudder, unable to decide which would be worse.

Joel leans forward over the bathtub, pressing his lips to your temple. “Don’t fight it, honey. S’okay that it feels good,” he mumbles against your skin. “It’s s’pposed to feel good when I touch you, baby.”

No, it’s fucking not!

Bowing your head, quietly begin to sob.

He wraps his arms around you. “Don’t cry, babygirl,” he soothes. “Don’t cry. Daddy’s gonna take real good care of you. I promise I’ll always take good care of you.”

His vow makes you cry even harder.

divider credit @saradika 🤍

#tw dubcon #tw dubious consent #tw noncon #tw dark fic #raider!joel #raider!joel miller #dark!joel miller #dark!joel x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x afab!reader #joel miller blurb #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller drabble #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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dev1lm4n · 9 months

Text

sinful reunion

masterlist | ko-fi (help me survive college :/)

pairing: engaged!joel miller x f!reader

summary: frustrated with how things were, you left joel and jackson for a whole year. today, you decide to give him a little visit and figure out that he's indeed engaged! joel trapped you in his bathroom to make you feel better

word count: 5k

warnings: explicit (18+), extreme dubcon, mean joel miller, fingering, infidelity, again.. joel miller is a mean, mean man.

note: do COMMENT and REBLOG if you enjoyed this :) i'm so exhausted from college i'm literally gonna pass out after i post this

Spring flew swiftly by, and summer came; and if the quaint city had been beautiful at first, it was now in the full glow and luxuriance of its richness. The great trees, which you remembered looking shrunken and bare when you left, had now burst into strong life and health. Branches doubled in length and girth, mantle of bright green draped over deep browns. Masses of white flowers brought memories of the late winter. A bubbling cloud of hot steam evaporated off your exposed forearm. The rolled sleeves settling right above your elbow was damp with sweat, same thing goes for below your arms and between your thighs. You sighed. The folded porno magazine you’ve been using as a shield above your forehead didn’t help much after all.

If it’s not for that old, obscene, grouch of a man, you wouldn’t have returned in the height of summer.

Things hadn’t changed much.

People are still as hopeful as ever. Their eyes shone with a renewed brightness, as if a full stomach and a roof over their head was simply enough to keep them satiated. They still bake apple pies, shovel their walkways, go to work (even if it's not to the infamous Wall Street), return home and share a familiar tequila with a friend or fiend. People are still people. And the pretend normalcy drove you insane. It’s confining and overall suffocating.

Being safe ailed you. You couldn’t be that lady in old commercials. Plaid apron over her chest, sandwiches on the table, husband and kid smiling at her happily. You couldn’t kiss your husband goodbye or craft lunch boxes for your kid. You couldn’t live if it wasn’t on the edge of death.

You tried. For Joel, you swore you’d try.

It’s been a full year since you fled. Maxine, your dear horse being the only witness to your escape. That and the night guard you threatened with a shotgun, an unloaded one you’d argue, but it’d still have you in big trouble if it was reported. With a few old friends or two, you managed to slip back in discreetly. You disguised yourself as a patrol unit. Practical jeans, some stitches torn apart from prolonged use, and a khaki button up. Boots that’s dipped in dust and dirt tight around your calves, a bold contrast to the neat wooden boards underneath. Your eyes landed on the welcome mat in front of his door. A shrilling memory invaded your head‒ how you picked it out for him, all smiles and giggles at the corny line printed atop.

You stepped on the mat, mocking it by grinding your dirty heel atop.

Then you knocked. Precisely three times.

Maybe you shouldn’t have come. It was shameless of you to return. Cruel, even.. disgusting for you to abandon someone who’s clearly dependent on you.

He lived for you. Every morning he made sure to wake you up with a gentle kiss on your lips, or your clit if he’s being kind. Every night he’d always tell you how much you meant to him, never an I love you, but always in the lines of dangerous situations and how he’d save you from it. You made a promise to stay. A promise to accept a ring around your pretty fingers when the time comes; doesn’t have to be shiny, you said, anything will do. But then you left. While he was out, keeping the city safe from any potential threats, you buckled up and tugged on your horse’s reins. Maybe you shouldn’t have come. Maybe you should just-

You jolted, even stumbled backwards when the large door swung open in one grand movement.

In panic, your eyes oscillated. His eyes were the same shade of brown you remembered him by, though this time it was much rounder, as if he’s truly surprised. Then it came to meet his hooked nose, the one you’d poke everytime you’re laid side by side post-coitus,. And his cracked lips, oh how you remembered kissing them better.

Joel Miller hadn’t changed one bit. It freaked you out, how he looked the same as he did when he practically proposed to you or when you promised to still love him even when he’s no longer young and strong. Your breath quickened. Your heart froze, cold sweat dribbled down your temple even when the air’s hot and balmy. You clutched onto the rolled magazine. The salacious pages of nude girls in cowboy hats creased at the strength of your bare hands. Is he going to say something? Anything? You’d rather have him furious than silent.

“Who is it, honey?”

The air thinned.

“The turkey’s cooked, but it’s kinda burnt.” The voice giggled. “Oh, who is this?”

You counted to ten to ground yourself.

One.. Two..

“Just.. just an old friend,” he muttered.

There was a girl. A pretty one at that, standing on her tippy toes as she attempted to look past Joel’s broad frame to observe you. Her tanned skin glowed like a newly polished silverware under the summer sun. A cascade of glossy, ebony hair framed her round face, falling in gentle waves which closely resembled swaying palm trees in coastal beaches. You noticed that it was adorned with delicate, ornate hairpins as well. One of flowers and the other of a classic shape. Was it from him? He used to do that for you, picking up small items to gift like a bird in need of mating. The thin gold strap around your neck was from him, a gift from when the two of you were still operating high-risk jobs around Boston. A proof that you’re mine, he spoke that time.

Joel made the conscious decision to move to the side. Now you could see her more. How she’s cladded in a loose shirt with short sleeves rolled to her shoulders, how her shorts fit perfectly around her smooth thighs, how her supple breasts spilled out of the neckline. In any way you’d think of it, she was the better option. A masterpiece in the Louvre museum, a best-selling New York Times book. She’d be a model if the world wasn’t infested with flesh-eating nuisance. Your head lowered (you’re staring too much!), opting to scrutinize the details of your boots’ mud yellow strings.

This was a bad decision. You shouldn’t have come. If only you weren’t curious of whether he’d get on his knees and beg for you to stay. If only you weren’t curious of whether he’d embrace you back in his large arms. If he’d fuck you ‘til your little brain stop working.

“Well then, what are you waiting for?” The feminine voice spoke up. “Invite your friend in, Joel.”

“No- haha, no it’s alright,” you panicked.

“No,” she reached for your hand. The free one, not the one with the porn magazine. “Com’on. I cooked a big dinner tonight! The more, the merrier.”

“I really shouldn’t,” you tried to convince her.

Her soft, greasy hands ‒ probably from stuffing the turkey she’s claimed to make ‒ led you through the entrance despite your many reasons. You found it a little funny that you still memorized the layout of Joel’s house like the back of your hand, like an old corny song you couldn’t quite get out of your head. The dining room was to the left, you remembered. It was just as you left it. An old, dull rectangular table sat in the middle. It used to be only filled with bread and fruits you pick up from the market. Sometimes you’re diligent enough to create a sweet jam, but there was never a fresh meal on the table. There’s no time for that. He would often times heat up a can of Chef Boyardee when you’re sick, or when he’s ruined your little hole so much that you’re pretty much bedridden, but that’s about it/

“Your name is?” you questioned, eyes still roaming around the room.

“Summer and yours?”

You mentioned your name half-mindedly as you sat down on one of the creaky chairs. You opted for the one on the left, your favorite one as it always gave you a five-star view of the lovely trees beyond. The room was much cleaner, curtains drawn and ceilings dusted. You’d even bet money that ‘Summer’ had also dusted all the compartments of the chandelier, wiped each and every window panel, and vacuumed the rotten patterned carpet underneath. The rounds of your pupils settled back on the sight unfolding ahead of you; how the Joel Miller, the same person who needed an entire year or two to be comfortable in expressing his feelings to you, led his new lover by the waist. He then proceeded to pull her chair back to aid her, a gentle smile on his face at all times.

He changed.

He looked exactly the same, but there was just.. something off about him. Was he a doppelganger by chance? Joel Miller is never warm. He’s naturally a tough lover. Reluctant, even mean at times, but right now he’s acting like the picture-perfect husband. A righteous man, which you knew he ain’t.

“So where’d y’all know each other from?”

Her lovely, cheery voice pulled you out of your dazed state. You raised your head slightly to flash a small smile her way. The chair creaked once more at Joel’s weight as he settled on your right, heavy frame and all extremely obvious from the corner of your eyes. A man, his lover, and his sort-of-ex having dinner in the late afternoon of a warm summer day‒ how ironic! You couldn’t even look at him, because sparing him a glance meant that you had to look at those manipulative eyes of his. Those browns that could impose a certain feeling deep in your chest, whether hatred, fear, or something close to love.

“Work,” he spoke up, “used to deliver packets.”

Half the truth. Packets? Sure, but not ordinary ones.

“Mhm. We arrived at Jackson together.”

As lovers, you’d like to add.

“Long time friends then?” Summer beamed a sweet smile your way.

Guilt pooled in your stomach almost instantly.

“Yup.”

“Oh well, me and Joel met last Winter. He’s fond of the horses and I work at the stables so things worked out,” she mentioned dreamily, “the winter festival’s our first date.”

An eerie tension stood between you and him. It was thick, as thick as blood and as nasty as pus on a wound left unattended.

He stood up after a moment or two to help slice open the thick turkey and only then did you dare to look at him. To ogle at his large forearms that’s tightly gift-wrapped in a thin breathable shirt, to dig deep into where his veins start and where it ends, to finally relish in the sight of his thick, bushy hair. It’s been awhile. A long time actually since you get to properly look at a man. You continued to watch as he sliced a chunk and placed it right on top of your empty plate, the knife he’s holding reflecting his tight-lipped smile your way. The winter festival’s supposed to be your thing. The two of you’s thing, where you’d gift each other a surprise and smoke a blunt or two and maybe fuck, but you left.

“That’s nice,” you replied, albeit a little dry.

“He’s a nice man,” Summer chimed in. “Kind, caring, a true Southern gentleman that is.”

You could argue on that.

“Is he now?”

“True thing that is. Swear on my life,” she continued. “Must be nice having him as a friend.”

“Well, don’t toot my horn too much, darlin’.”

There it was. That masculine drawl. That voice that’d have you begging on your knees if he asked you to. You’d commit the greatest crime‒ no, you’ve commit notable crimes just to have him stay right by your side. Just to have him acknowledge what you’re capable of, so he’d take you under his wings in the depth of Boston’s trenches, because protection from him meant a good life. Maybe that’s all you’ll ever be to him, a little bird to protect. And maybe that’s all he’ll ever be to you, a protector in times of need.

“It’s a little warm here in Jackson,” you chuckled. “A cold beer might help a lot.”

“Oh sorry, honey, we don’t drink alcohol ‘round here.” She sounded apologetic, but you swore her almond eyes were judging you for a second.

“You don’t?”

“Nope,” Summer leaned her head to the side. “Been going to church these days. Pastor said it’s better to pray than indulge in past addictions. Ain’t that right, Joel?”

“That’s right, honey,”

Joel Miller is a church-goer now? For the first time in forever, you had the courage to look him in the eye. He was looking right back at you when you looked, though he had one of those expressions you couldn’t quite decipher. His tired eyes were hooded, enough that the top and bottom curve of his dark pupils are nowhere to be seen, along with a much obvious glint of mischief. It was either morbid curiosity, rooted hatred, or desires of past addictions as Summer puts it. The strands on your brow bone twitched ever so slightly, as if in pure disbelief that a man like him would kneel for a God. It’s not that sinners couldn’t repent. It’s him that you knew could never change. You took a bite out of the supple meat, never leaving his eyes as you do so. Maybe.. just maybe he’d crack under pressure.

“You go to church too?” Summer questioned, mouth full of boiled asparagus.

“No, not really.” You chuckled awkwardly. “There’s not a lot of churches out in the wild.”

“Ah, that’s right,” she hummed. “Why don’t you go to church with us this Sunday? A lot of fun y'know.”

You plastered on a smile, before briefly scooping some of the stringy meat up your mouth.

“I’ll consider it.”

Joel was the first one to snip the ungodly attraction‒ his eyes torn away to meet Summer’s much brighter gaze. Your gut tightened, gag reflex emphasized even more at the sight. Joel Miller was yours, that’s all you could remember despite the extent you took to avoid him, and having him give his precious attention to someone other than you brought a sense of disdain. He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn't land his eyes on anyone other than you, weren’t you the best thing he ever had? It took awhile to school your expression to a level of believable nonchalance. You found the vintage canvas hung atop of the fireplace a great help in distracting yourself. It’s easy to get lost in every stroke, every clash of colors, instead of the green man squeezing himself between your heart chambers.

“Oh, when did you-” you paused mid sentence.

A ring.

“Ah.”

Your vision blurred, splotches of red and blue tearing at the edges.

“Engaged, huh?”

A solitary engagement ring encircled her long finger, miraculously preserved by time’s embrace. A relic at times like these. You watched as it glimmered under the orange hues, jaw propped up on your palm to stop it from gaping. A small, radiant stone set in tarnished silver‒ the object mocked you silently, a red flag in front of an agitated bull, it’s purposefully making you reel into the depth of your hatred. Where the you one year ago rested in peace, where the you you’ve been trying to erase off the planet’s surface hibernated, and everything’s starting to resurface all at once. The need. The desperation. The desire to be wanted by something.. someone you couldn’t acquire entirely. You laughed. A dry one at that. Might even sound condescending if it were a tad bit shorter.

He fucking proposed to her.

Of course he did.

Of course he had to change his ways after you.

You don’t deserve being treated right. She does.

“Oh, you noticed,” she giggled, the noise shrill in your ears. “Just last month actually. We were having dinner and I-”

“Sorry, I..”

You were suffocating, chest inflated twice the size.

“Feel a little sick. Gonna go to..” you held your hand over your lips, genuinely feeling like emptying your entire stomach. “To the bathroom.”

You stared at your own reflection, pitiful, glazed with a layer of disappointment and grief. The vision you had for this visit slowly crumbled. Every unfulfilled dream, every missed opportunity, and every question left unanswered converged into a heartache‒ dull yet throbbing, coursing through every inch of your skin and crawling much deeper. The laughter and conversations you had with him seemed so.. distant, as if they were mere echoes of what once existed a million lightyears ago. You held yourself, worn down fingers clinging on your forearms, nails digging down onto the warm skin underneath. What were you expecting? For him to mourn your exit for the rest of his life? Perhaps. Joel Miller was great at making you feel like shit, but today takes the cake.

Leaving was the only thing on your mind and so you gripped the rusty door handle. A quick exit, you knew you were good at that. Though instead of a brightly lighted hallway, your chest collided with a tough chest wrapped in a flannel shirt. A sandalwood, musky flannel shirt you might add and all those plans you had in mind dwindled down like a damp paper airplane. Plan A, B, and C were quickly crossed out on the chalkboard. Frozen, your lips trembled in fear. You stumbled backwards. Boots thudding against the old tiles, you’re afraid. Chest inflated with fear, you’re terrified!

“Move, Joel.”

Silence.

“Fucking move. Get out of my way.”

You threw quick, meaningless punches on the broad of his chest. It did nothing but made him get bolder with his actions. He took a step back, which you’re grateful for, but not when you realize that it was to lean back against the bathroom’s door. You’ve come a long way from how meek and helpless you were in the QZ, managing to survive the scary outside world for a whole year and keeping all your limbs attached, but you knew that you’d never manage to budge his weight. He was heavy. Used to be a massive ball of muscles, though now slightly worn down by his age. Joel threw you a look. A dirty, demeaning one that’s always been reserved for you. Only you.

“Fuckin' hell are you deaf?”

You bubbled up.

“Fuck you and your little play house. Going to church? Should repent the many souls you took yourself,” you seethed. “You’re just a big asshole on legs y’know that? Now fuck off. It’s a fucking mistake coming to see you.”

You stormed his way. Big mistake. He took you by the shoulder. Rough fingers dug deep into where your bone sits, his knee quick to slot itself between your legs. He was quick to switch the dynamic, to be the offensive one instead as he had you pinned on the wall. The frail wooden bathroom door creaked at the contact, its hinges banging against one another. You looked like one of those dead butterfly displays, spread out forcefully to show your entire potential. Was he going to murder you? Was he going to bang your head against the mirror and leave you there to bleed? He looked like it. With those blown out pupils, you're not even sure if he’s going to keep you alive or dead. If he's going to finally end your misery at last.

“You’re gonna kill me?” You tried to shove his chest back, but it’s no use. “Gonna choke me to death?”

“No!” The grip he had on your shoulder never once loosened, even at your viscous accusations. “You really think I’d kill you?”

“I don’t know.” Your eyebrows sunken in sorrow.

“You don’t know?””

“You’re not the man I once knew, Joel.”

“I’m-”

“I don’t know you anymore! You’re not the same.” Your feet tried to tackle his legs, a move he taught, but he stayed unbudged. “You’re kind, attentive.. you’re there, Joel. You’re present in time. You’re never present with me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh fuck off, Joel. You’re not gonna gaslight me.”

That had him briefly loosening the grip around your shoulders. You were quickly met with his cold finger tips, grazing the soft skin of your cheeks, only to settle on your cracked, bloody bottom lip. In a haze, you’re unprepared for the hand slithering its way onto your throat. It squeezed tight enough to impede your airway for a brief second or two, only to loosened when your eyes grew teary. You gasped for air immediately.

“You left!”

“You proposed to her!”

His expression toughened. The Joel Miller you knew was back. The cruel one with tendencies to abandon, to be hollow of true meaningful feelings, and he was inching closer. His soft scruff brushed against the tip of your ears. Warm puffs of air made you turn your head to the side, avoiding his serpent-like hold. He's quick to guide you by your jaw when you start straying off.

“Didn’t know if you’re alive or dead.”

“Oh I bet you’d be enthralled if I were dead,” you chuckled humorlessly. “You hated me, Joel.”

“I was worried,” he continued, ignoring your comments entirely.

He placed a gentle kiss on your temple, slow and steady as if you’d vanish into dust once more if he was too rough, and proceeded to smother sloppy kisses down your cheek and onto your neck. It glided like warm butter or sunscreen on a beach day. Joel never forgot the way in which you enjoyed getting those sweet spots below your jaw sucked, a mark to show his claim over you, to show his ownership even if you had to drape a shawl over it every time you had to shop for groceries or go on patrols. You weren’t as pretty and prim today though. You were untamed, always attempting to pull yourself away from him, to avoid his rough fingers and needle-like beard.

“Went on a search team every day for a whole month,” he hummed. “What if my sweetheart’s bleeding out in the midst of winter? Low visibility and endless snowstorms. What if you’re shot dead or worse, turned into one of those creatures?”

“But you’re a smart little minx, ain’t ya?” he huffed, his fingers gentle as it slowly popped the buttons to your shirt. His musky scent infiltrated your head. You’re drunk on him. “Threw a tantrum so big you disappeared on me.”

“No, Joel, we- we can’t,” you forced those words out, even when your soft breasts were spilled out of your chest. Those sensitive peaks were already stiff, you’d lie and say it’s simply because of the cold, but there’s no such thing. “Can’t- you’re en- engaged..”

He toyed with your nipples, squeezing and tugging on the right one before giving the same attention to the left. His eyes were dark, pupils dilated as he swirled around the sensitive skin with his coarse fingers. Your breath hitched and your chest spasmed. Every inch of morality left your headspace at the twinge of pleasure, your knees grew weak and he had to prop you up against his strong shoulders to aid you.

“You’re cheatin- oh fuck..”

“I am, huh?” he chuckled lowly. “You don’t want this then? Want me to leave?”

“No! No, please please,” you begged as his fingers carefully began to undo the stiff belt around your waist. He tugged on your zippers, tortuously, slowly unraveling the pretty skin he’s been missing so goddamn much. “I need you..”

“Needy minx,” he insulted teasingly. “Shameless, aren’t ya? Didn’t ya just say ya hate me?”

You whimpered. This shouldn’t be happening. This wasn’t in any of the plans you’ve concocted, it was just pure desire. He felt sinfully good. So warm and firm against your body, so strong and dependable. His shoulder proved to be the perfect place to bury your head into, muffling out the noises you’re prone to make when he shoved his entire palm down your panties. Joel Miller didn’t tolerate the misdemeanor. The hand he had around your neck tightened ever so slightly, before he abruptly pushed you back onto the wooden door. The hard material thudded against your back, resulting in a soft, breathless whine for more. He might be a mean, mean man for afflicting such things, but you’re even more insane for tolerating it.

“Ah, look at you,” he hummed, fingers tapping slow beats onto the hood of your clitoris. “No one fucked you good enough out there.”

You shook your head no. Annoyed, Joel slid his index and middle finger down onto your slit. He cumulated the slickness gathered around your pathetic little hole, before he slid it back up to tease. Up and down. Up and down. Then a full circle. The motion left you breathless, thighs bucking up against his hand, but he’d give you a light slap on the thigh if that happens.

“Oh.. you haven’t fucked anyone else out there?” he cocked his head arrogantly. “Dunno if I can believe a pretty girl like you. After all..”

He had the audacity to slip his finger in. A whole knuckle down your entrance, which is much more than you anticipated. Almost instantly, a sticky clear substance started dribbling out, gushing all around the foreign object infiltrating your cunt. It’s been so long, far too long that you kept yourself untouched. You could basically be categorized as a virgin again at this point. It wasn’t a deliberate decision, it’s just that no one turned you on this much. No one could shove their fingers inside you without getting their head blown off. No one but him.

“You’re not the girl I once knew.”

He turned your little insults right back at you. A single tear dribbled down your warm cheeks, hot and invasive, your fragile heart torn into two and stomped on the ground. Joel retaliated by pressing his lips right onto yours. Starting out soft and smooth, gentle and reverent, as if it was his way of apologizing and professing his undying love for you, but then it grew rougher and unrecognizable. A clash of teeth, a vicious fight for dominance. You had to put up a little fight, show him the kind of girl you’ve turned into, but when he eased a second finger down the tight rings of your cunt, it’s all over. You squirmed, desperately grinding down against his rough palm.

“Fuck me!”

“What was that?”

“Fuck me, Jo-”

A knock.

Your eyes blew wide open. The soft fluorescent lights flickered above, casting an eerie shadow that danced across Joel’s expression. You let out a soft whimper, eyes pressed into a crescent shape as you felt the need to cry out of fear and guilt, a sobering shot that made you realize how wrong this was. How disgusting this is. Immoral. Even when he was still three knuckles deep inside your pussy, even when you knew you couldn’t push him away. Your knuckles grew white as it clung onto the fabric of his flannel. He didn’t pay any mind to the interruption, instead, he continued to thrust his dripping fingers in, reaching around to find that squishy spot of yours. The one that’d send stars onto your vision.

“Are you okay in there? I didn’t know why you got sick..”

The muffled voice strengthened the guess you had in your head. It’s Summer, the girl with the engagement band around her fingers, the girl who’s supposed to have his two fingers deep inside her cunt. Your heart raced like a wild stallion, thunderous beats resonating in your ears. A small moan barged its way out your lips when he pressed on your clit once more with his thumb, he quickly guided your jaw back to face him with his free hand. Joel’s expression hardened, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a tight-line, then his mouth contorted into shapes. A wordless order to stay quiet and respond accordingly. You nodded, bottom lip slotted between your teeths.

“Was it the turkey I cooked? Oh god.. it’s my first time cookin’ in. I didn’t know that it’d be terrible. I’m so sorry, do you need some help in there? I can-”

“No.. oh! No.. no.. I’m fi- aaagh- fine.”

Your eyes darted around the small space, looking for any means to escape, but the solitary window was far too small to be of any use. Panic had seized you, but Joel’s fingers brought you back where he needed you to be. On the edge of an orgasm that you knew was going to melt your brain and make you go dumb.

“Really? You don’t sound too good.. I could maybe cook you up a remedy.. Oh, or we can go to the infirmary together? Just I don’t-”

“No.. ooh. Summer, I’m- shit- Summer, I’m fine.”

“Oh.. okay then. I’ll be waiting outside. Um, do you maybe know where Joel is? Kinda wanna see if he has some meds for you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you tried to navigate your way to release. The thumb he had on your clitoris started rubbing faster, tighter circles, leaving you on the very edge of a dangerous cliff.

“Dunno- oh fuck.”

He’s in there with you for fucks sake. Her fiancé’s here fingerfucking you!

“Gonna cum,” you muttered out a little too loud.

“What was that?”

“Gonna.. mmph.. Gonna come out so- sooghn.”

Your knees buckled, for once he allowed it, and you buried your face onto the crook of his neck. His fingers continued to thrust in the perfect rhythm, fucking back in the arousal that’s slowly dripping down. You weren’t shy in grinding back down onto his palm, neither were you shy when you came all over his fingers, the remnants left in an embarrassing pool down your trousers. His thumb tickled your clitoris, making sure the sensitive nub deserved all the pleasure it could get as he watched you crumble. Everything was just how you remembered it. Sinful, warm, and helpless.

“Okay.. I’ll go look for Joel in the backyard shed!”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #joel miller #tlou x reader #tlou fic #tw dubcon

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tuesdayafterafriday · 2 months

Text

to take care of you

dark!joel miller x f!reader

joel takes you in after you arrive all alone in jackson. he gains your trust and promises to take care of you, but that ends up being more than you bargained for. (4.6k words)

tags: ddne, dark, non con, dub con, explicit content, no minors allowed, age gap, power dynamics, perverted joel, vulnerable reader, breeding kink, virginity loss, non consensual somnophila

You were all alone when you got to Jackson. Shivering, starving, and scared. You didn’t make many friends fast, staying locked up inside of your house most of the time. It was Ellie who got through to you first. You latched onto her, and she quickly became the person you trusted the most.

So, when she suggested that you move into the empty room in the house that she lived in with Joel, you were quick to accept. Joel was annoyed at first, the thought of a stranger moving in.

“Does she know that you’re barely around these days.”

Ellie had just rolled her eyes, not in the mood to dig into the complexities of their relationship at the moment. “She’s too scared to live on her own. I think she’d feel safe with you around.”

“Hasn’t she heard the rumors of my past?”

“I told her she can trust you.”

You didn’t have much of a presence around the house at first. Usually, Joel forgot you were even there, until he’d hear the creaking of steps upstairs or a stray cough. You started to spend more time in the common areas after a while, though, and Joel found himself happy to get to know you.

And the more he got to know, the more beautiful he thought you to be.

The first time you touched him was a few months after moving in. It was innocent, but it changed everything for him. He had explained to you that, on his recent trip to see the town’s seamstress, he ended up bartering for a new dress for you. It was relatively plain, but when he saw it he remembered the stray comment you had made about the heat of early summer, having only a few winter garments at your disposal.

Just seeing you in the dress would’ve been enough motivation, but the smile on your face when you saw it and realized it was yours was even better. You tried it on immediately, stepping out of your room to show Joel how it looked with a shy smile.

“You woulda been a model, if you’d been an adult back in the day.”

The comment made you smile even more, gaze still on the floor as you approached Joel and slowly pulled him into a hug. It wasn’t long, but it took Joel completely by surprise. The smell of you, the feeling of your body pressed up against his, the small noise you made against his ear. It was the first time he realized just how much he needed to fuck you.

He didn’t want to do anything too fast; he didn’t want to scare you away. But he needed you. He needed a release. So, he started when you weren’t home. He went into your bedroom and looked through your meager possessions, trying to come up with a way to get to you.

Instead, he ended up in your bed, pants pulled down to his ankles, rutting his hips against the firm mattress—precome surely leaking on the linen—while he sniffed your scent that lingered. Joel knew it was wrong to act like this, so desperate and out of control, like a feral animal who had just caught a whiff of a particularly strong pheromone.

But the thought of your body having been wrapped in these sheets only hours earlier turned him on. The thought of your body in general turned him on. He imagined you, soft and aching, underneath him. He wondered if your body would twitch as he pulled orgasm after orgasm out of you, thumb never leaving your increasingly overstimulated clit.

He would make you come so many times you’d forget your own name.

As he grasped at the sheets—hand finally beginning to stroke his cock in time with his hip movements—he found something in the sheets, near the end of the bed. He almost came right there at the sight of them: a plain light pink pair of panties.

He could tell they were dirty, still a little damp in the center and smelling of you. He knew he was really gone when, without even a second thought, he immediately brought the panties to his nose, sniffing in as much of your scent as he could get. Just like the kind of pervert he used to hear people joke about: the nasty old man panty-sniffer. That’s what he’d become.

But he was fine with pushing down his shame in favor for his insatiable arousal.

Now he could imagine what you’d look like when he’d yank down your jeans, your pretty little pussy only covered by a thin piece of pink material. He squeezed his balls roughly as he wondered if you had a matching bra, made by one of the seamstresses in town.

His thoughts only got dirtier, and soon enough he had flipped himself to be on his back again. He took a moment to spit in his palm again before returning it to his cock, enjoying the feeling of the slight wetness.

He wanted more than anything for it to be your saliva on his cock, and lots more of it. He wanted to see you on your knees for him, looking up at him with labored breaths, his cock inching further and further towards the back of your throat. He knew you’d be such a good girl, eager to take as much of him as you could.

But he wasn’t only interested in you if you were his good girl, though. He wanted to turn you bad, wanted to see you lose all your concerns about what was proper and just suck his cock like an absolute whore. He wanted to turn you into as sick and needy of an animal as he was.

It was that thought—the thought of what you would sound like when he finally lost control and let his cock hit the back of your throat with force, making you gag on his considerable length—that finally got him off. His shirt was pushed up a bit, and he came on the firm pudge of his stomach.

_________________________________________

Ellie helped you meet more people in the community, and you even ended up with some friends. Joel couldn’t help but feel jealous when she’d whisk you away with the promise of hanging out with people your own age. Deep down, he knew it was good for you.

He really saw the value of it one night, though, when he found you passed out on the sofa, clearly too inebriated to get yourself up the stairs and in your own bed. You were in a heavy sleep, arms sprawled above your head and your legs open, one foot planted on the ground and the other on the body of the sofa. He admired the sight of you in the dress, the way your breasts were squeezed by the tightness of the chest, the way your legs looked as the knee length hemline rode up, exposing the plush meat of your thighs.

As he palmed the bulge in his jeans, he decided he wasn’t going to fuck you tonight. He knelt down in front of your body, grabbing the hem of your dress to flip it open. You were wearing a pair of thin cotton panties, damp in the middle where they stretched over your cunt. He brought his face to your body, his big nose nestling between your covered folds and inhaling deeply. The scent of your arousal mixed with your sweat was intoxicating, and he had to fight himself to not go any further.

He pulled his cock out of his pants and began to stroke himself to the smell of you, just as he had in your bedroom. This time it was so much better, though. It was the real thing. Instead of just a discarded pair of panties on their own, he could see the curve of your mound, your lips covered in cotton, the way it clung to the curls of your pubic hair.

He couldn’t help himself. It was all too much. He gently pulled your panties to the side, exposing your cunt. He let out a strained groan at the sight of you before coming all over his own hand. He leaned forward and gave a small kiss to your labia before putting you back as he had found you, taking a moment to taste you on his lips.

He knew he should feel guilty, but he was too overwhelmed to manage it.

_________________________________________

It was several weeks later when he woke up to the sound of you screaming. He ran to your room, knowing just how to push on the handle to get the door open even when it was locked. You had stopped yelling by then. Instead, you cried into your hands.

“I’m sorry,” you began to repeat. “I just had a bad dream.”

Joel’s reasoning skills weren’t fully functioning. He felt awful seeing you in pain like that, and his own body was filled with adrenaline. That’s why he didn’t think to stop himself before offering you a spot in his bed.

“Or I could sleep in here on the floor… I know you don’t like to be alone, is all.”

You had stared at him in silence for nearly a minute, and Joel began to fear that he had severely miscalculated your level of trust in him.

Then, he saw a small smile.

“You’d do that for me?”

“Course.”

As you curled up under Joel’s blanket, you explained to him that you had always shared a bed with someone growing up. It felt wrong to sleep in one without someone else. Joel knew the kind of pain you were in after losing your family, your group.

“I’ll try and find a way to get over it,” you whispered. “I’m sorry for making you take care of me all the time.”

Joel’s heart broke at the sound of sadness in your voice, but his body surged with arousal at your acknowledgement of him taking care of you. He told you that he was happy to take care of you, that he’d help support you through this for as long as you needed.

“Seems like you’re carrying the grief in your body,” he told you, noticing the stiffness in your shoulders even as you lied in bed.

“What do you mean?”

He gestured for you to get up in a seated position and turn around on your side, facing the opposite direction from him. He only took a moment to admire your ass in your nightgown before placing his hands on your shoulders. You flinched at first, but he cooed at you as he held you in place.

“You can trust me, remember?”

You let out a nervous breath, and Joel began to rub your shoulders. The next sound you made was a small moan. You quickly apologized, and Joel grinned to himself.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. ‘S supposed to feel good.”

He kneaded your muscles while you sighed sweetly, your body moving gently against the bed. He wondered if the pleasure was spreading. He moved his hands down your back slightly, grasping your sides under your armpits and using his thumb to rub circles into your back muscles. He could tell you loved it.

Slowly, he moved his hands further and further to your front before eventually groping your breasts, thick fingers running past your pert nipples. You let out a strained moan before jerking your body away.

“J-Joel,” you whispered, breathless. “I don’t think I carry grief… there.”

Joel chuckled, hoping to help diffuse the tension. “I know, but it’s a good spot for relieving tension.”

You turned to look at him, and he could’ve gotten off just on the shy but aroused look on your face. Your skin felt warmer and warmer, and your mouth hung open slightly, tongue gently licking your plush lips.

The word “ripe” was stuck on Joel’s mind.

“You know I’d do anything to take care of you, right? Whatever you need.”

You stared at him with wide eyes before beginning to shake your head. “T-thank you for all the help, Joel, but I think I’ll just sleep in my own bed.”

As you began to push yourself off the mattress, Joel’s hand darted out and hooked your body in, his large hand stretching over your tummy and holding you gently in place.

“Listen… I know what everyone in town says about you, and I’m sure that can’t make it easy to feel at home here, but”

“What?” You turned to face him again, your demeanor shifting. “What do people say about me?”

Joel let out a sigh, shaking his head gently. “People just haven’t learned to trust you yet… think you’re a bit of a freeloader, is all.”

“I help out where I can…”

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” Joel cooed, using his hand to rub your side. “People said things about me when I first got here, too. Now they respect me, they listen to me. If I keep tellin’ ‘em that you’re good… they’ll believe it.”

Joel suppressed a smile as he watched tears begin to form in your eyes.

“You tell them that?”

“Of course.”

The night ended with you apologizing for trying to go back to your room. It was so sweet of you to offer me a spot here for the night, I shouldn’t have tried to say no. He waited until you were asleep to pull the straps of your nightgown down far enough to expose your breasts. He fisted his cock while he imagined coming all over your chest.

All over your face.

All over your cunt.

All over you.

_________________________________________

Nothing happened for a few days. Ellie came to visit, which helped take Joel’s mind off the situation completely until she brought you up while they were eating breakfast. She had made some confusing joke about the “real great” night you were sure to be having that day.

“What’s that ‘sposed to mean?”

Ellie just snickered, a trait she never gave up from childhood. “She’s going on a date with James.”

Joel felt his body tense up at the news, although he couldn’t feel surprised. You were a beautiful young woman, of course you’d be going on dates. It still filled him with a terrible sense of jealousy, an unearned sense of possessiveness.

“What’re the plans?” Joel asked, trying to sound as disinterested as possible.

“They’re going to ‘stargaze by the lake,’ if ya know what I mean,” Ellie replied as she shoveled down another mouthful of oatmeal.

Joel just gave her a funny face. “I do not know what ya mean. You and Dina used to love going down there to stargaze.”

Ellie’s smile immediately disappeared, a wince taking its place. “Well, uh… I’m not saying this is what Dina and I were doing down there… because, you know, we had a real passion for… the stars. But…” Ellie let out a groan and just spit it out already. “That’s where everyone goes to hook up.”

Joel made a disgusted face in light of this news, letting out a slight groan while he dropped his slice of bread.

“So that book on constellations I found for ya was just a part of some nasty little rouse?”

Instead of being too embarrassed, Ellie just laughed. “We did use that book! A lot.”

Joel let his disgruntled face begin to soften, but Ellie was quick to get the punchline in, already laughing at her own joke.

“We needed something to talk about afterwards.”

“You little shit,” Joel muttered, stifling his own laughter. “I think maybe you oughta just keep lying to me like you did when you were a kid, okay?”

His smile didn’t remain long, however, disappearing when he remembered that you would be down by the lake later that night, getting fucked by some guy who probably wasn’t even gonna get you off once.

“Ain’t she a little old for such juvenile tricks?”

Ellie shrugged. “She’s stuck living with an old man. Would you really prefer her bringing home some guy? And James’s family certainly wouldn’t appreciate him bringing her home for the night.”

Joel gave a noncommittal nod, pretending to no longer care even a little bit about you as he switched to a new topic of conversation. Ellie seemed none the wiser, happy for the change in pace.

_________________________________________

Joel told himself he was just going to keep an eye on you from a safe distance, make sure that the boy didn’t try any funny business. He was just going to hide behind some trees and ignore the sound of your moans.

That proved more to be more difficult than he had imagined, however. He stood there, peering around a big tree trunk to watch you lie on the ground as James ran his hands up and down your body, firmly placing one of your hands on his cock that was sticking out of his jeans.

He didn’t bother to touch your clit or your other less obvious erogenous zones; he just began to spread your legs, prodding his cock at your entrance. He doubted you’d even be wet for him… he wondered if James had even been considerate enough to slip on a condom.

But the sight of your exposed breasts in the moonlight and the little noises you made for him was enough to make him at least believe you were enjoying yourself.

You looked beautiful, now fully nude in the summer heat. James was busy clumsily pawing at your breasts while you rubbed your own clit. A part of Joel’s brain was ignited in anger as he watched the younger man line his bare cock up with your pussy. It was that part of his brain that he had to temper when he was in Jackson, only bringing it out when necessary while on patrol shifts or on supplies runs.

It was Joel’s duty to protect you, as an older member of the community, as the father of your close friend. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself as he finally emerged from behind the tree and began to approach you and James.

“’scuse me,” Joel muttered, with a pointed tone that was meant to convey authority and disappointment. You were too busy to mind the tone, however, as you were both scared shitless, scurrying to cover yourselves up and act like you weren’t just getting ready to have sex.

“Don’t you know how dangerous it is to be out here this time of year? In the dark? Busiest time for bears.”

James—although clearly scared based on how fast he shoved his dick back in his pants—seemed perturbed by Joel’s interference with his plans.

“Then why are you out here?”

Joel just shrugged. “Tommy wanted me to keep an eye out for horny idiots and stop ‘em from becoming a bear’s dinner.”

James didn’t laugh, just jumping to his feet and reaching out for your hand.

“Don’t worry ‘bout that,” Joel muttered. “I’ll escort her home. Think you’ve done enough for tonight, champ.”

Joel looked back to James with a dark gaze, trying to impart the message that he wanted him to fuck off already.

James just rolled his eyes, clearly not up to trying to fight with a man like Joel, especially now that you had a vested interest in going home with him instead. He said goodnight to you without much grace or sweetness and limped off, probably still dealing with a bit of an erection.

“Keep an eye out for bears, buddy!”

When Joel looked back down to you, he found you smiling at his comment.

“I-I’m really sorry,” you muttered, looking down at your lap nervously while you shifted around from underneath your blanket, probably trying to get your panties back on. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Only thing that’s embarrassin’ is your choice of company.”

You ignored the comment, but he could tell you were still uncomfortable by the entire situation. He figured you were probably too bashful about sex to have a frank discussion about it, and Joel knew how dangerous it was for a young person—especially a young woman—to try and figure out sexual intimacy with only vague ideas and generalities.

You needed his help, Joel realized. And he was already here to protect you—it wouldn’t make sense to just stop now, when you arguably needed him the most.

He kneeled down, staring at you closely while you continued to shift around under the blanket. You looked up at him in shame, shaking your head.

“Now, I told you I’d take care of you, but I don’t know if I’d be able to take care of you and some baby you let yourself get knocked up with because you weren’t bein’ careful enough.”

“I’m so sorry, Joel… I just…”

“There’s other ways to get men to like you. You don’t need to degrade yourself for the first little boy who shows you attention.”

“Joel, I…”

“This is certainly not the way to get people in town to trust you.”

“I’m sorry!”

Joel stopped, staring at your face which seemed shocked by your own outburst. Tears began to form in your eyes once again, and he wished it didn’t turn him on as much as it did.

“I was just… Joel, I was just so desperate.”

“For what?”

Your eyes left his, and you looked around with a wince. “For that… relief you were talking about. James was just the first guy who asked.”

Joel thought about taking you right there. He’d hold your arms down and clamp your mouth shut if he had to, as long as he could give you that relief that you were so desperate for. He cock was aching in his jeans just at the thought of it, of how your pussy would feel clamping down on him, how he’d stretch you open.

His grip got tighter around your arm, and he had to stop himself from hurting you.

“Get up. We’re goin’ home.”

_________________________________________

“I know you’re disappointed in me,” you whispered when you two finally got back to the privacy of the house, after a long silent walk.

“I’m not disappointed in you,” he replied sternly. “I’m hurt.”

You stared at him with a sad little look.

“Have I not given you everything? Have I not taken care of you without judgement?”

“You have… of course you have!”

“Then why would you go to some random, careless boy in your time of need.”

You let out a tiny huff, looking around the room in discomfort. “I just… I thought maybe you weren’t into that stuff anymore. You’re just so much older than me.”

It turned Joel on to hear you say it, but his blood burned at what you were insinuating.

“Think I’m just some old man with a limp dick?”

You seemed shocked at his language, beginning to slowly back away from him.

“After all I’ve done for you?”

“Joel, I’m sorry,” you whispered, taking a few more steps back. “Can we talk about this in the morning? I think you’re too upset now.”

He took a few long strides forward and grabbed your wrists before you could move, twisting your arms so you were unable to get away. He pulled your body flush against his, staring into your eyes intensely.

“Think I can’t fuck, huh? Trust me, baby: I’ve never met a pussy I couldn’t get off. Used to fuck little sluts like you… I’d pick ‘em up in bars or at parties. Fucked almost babysitter I ever hired, fucked a few of my buddy’s daughters.”

“Joel,” you whimpered, voice dripping with fear. “I’m sorry… I believe you.”

“Haven’t even gotten to tell you about all the pussy I’ve gotten since the outbreak. Fuck, there’s something about the end of the world that made girls like you hornier than ever. Can’t tell you how many girls I had coming on my cock, callin’ me daddy while they milked me dry.”

“Let me go,” you muttered, twisting your arms just to bring yourself more pain.

“The ones who were trying to fight how they felt were my favorites, though. There was just something about grabbing a bitch by her wrists and bending her over and just destroying her. And lemme tell you, sweetheart. They always came.”

Joel tried to be gentle when he tied your hands together. He didn’t need you being all bruised up and covered in evidence. He stuffed your panties in your mouth to stop you from screaming. Finally, he threw you on his bed, face first. He quickly got on top of you, his meaty thighs spread over each side of your ass while he repositioned your face against the mattress and muttered directions.

“Quit your squirmin’, baby.”

He indulged himself in a few slaps of your ass, watching your flesh jiggle before spreading your legs and letting out a low whistle.

“Look at all that wetness coverin’ your cute little pussy.”

He shoved a thick finger inside, groaning as he explored your tight, wet hole. “You really were fuckin’ desperate for it, huh?”

He took a moment to taste you off his finger, groaning in approval before working another finger in, roughly stretching you open.

“Don’t know why you’re resistin’ so much. Gonna give you better cock than that fucker James coulda.”

You made lots of noise, but it was all muffled by the gag. Drool dripped out of your mouth and down your chin, the sight of which turned Joel on even more.

“I told you, baby. I take care of you.”

With that, he lined his cock up at your entrance and pushed his reddened, leaking cock inside. He moaned as he forced himself deeper and deeper into you, grateful for how wet you were.

“Gonna make you take all of it, baby. Even if it hurts. You gotta learn your place here.”

You continued to make noise, squirming around underneath him in a way that only made his cock feel better.

“Aww, you want more? That what you’re trying to tell me?”

He began to pull his cock out, rubbing the tip against your swollen labia for a moment before slamming it back in, eliciting a sharp yell from behind the gag.

Joel continued to fuck you, hands gripping at your shoulders. He leaned in closer, beginning to mutter in your ear.

“There’s a cost to the comfort of Jackson, sweetheart.”

He grabbed the back of your head and twisted your neck around so that he could see more of your face. Tears streamed down your face, mixing with the drool on your chin.

“Keep cryin’, baby. I can feel how much you love this.”

He reached down to grope at your breasts, sharply pinching your nipples.

“Gonna learn to take what I give ya.”

Your cunt squeezed him tightly, and he thought you were close.

“Imagine what everyone in town will say when you end up pregnant, redeemed by kind old Mr. Miller helping to raise some crude man’s baby.”

He imagined you swollen with a baby, at your most vulnerable and needy. He imagined how much it’d turn him on to milk your breasts while he remembered how he knocked you up.

That was the thought that finally got him off. He groaned as he came inside of you, twisting your hair up in his hands and pulling your head back. It’d been too long since he’d come inside of a pretty little thing like you, and he couldn’t help but savor the moment when he pulled his softening cock out and watched a bit of his come cover your lips/

“Sorry you didn’t get off yet, sweetie,” Joel muttered as he watched your hole desperately contract around nothing. “But we’ve got plenty of time for that.”

#dark!joel miller #joel miller x reader #dark!joel x reader #dark!joel #tw dub con #tw noncon #cw noncon #cw dubcon #ddne #dead dove do not eat

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xanqels · 9 months

Text

For I Have Sinned.

DarkCorruptedPriest!Joel Miller x Innocent!Reader

Summary: Father Miller sets eyes on you, and decides then and there that you are to be ruined by him.

Parings: joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: SMUT!!! No outbreak au! reader is a virgin and very naive, loss of innocence, corruption kink (he’s into taking her vcard), blackmail, dubcon, virginity loss, fingering, slight humiliation(?), bit of mocking, pet names (darlin’, baby, sweet girl etc), dirty talk, using the lords name in vain, unprotected piv (wrap before you tap), power imbalance, oral (f receiving), age gap (reader is mid to late 20s, Joel is late 50s), Joel is an asshole in this, mentions of god/the bible/sinning. Conclusion: Joel should not be a priest. if there’s any i’ve misses please let me know.

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: I would like to thank @chloeangelic for inspiring me to write this and also giving me some encouragement, and I’d also like to thank @toxicanonymity for inspiring me to write dark!joel and creating the joelkemon universe. Also I do apologise if the timing of the story is a bit everywhere, this is my first fanfic!! any and all criticism is welcome with open arms.

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He still remembers the first day he met you.

You and your family had brought him a pie, a cherry one. They wanted to welcome him, congratulate him for becoming the new priest in their humble town. A sweet gesture from such a perfectly sweet girl and her devout family.

He remembered your face, he could draw it from memory if he wanted to - if he could draw, that was. The perfect mix of beauty, grace and innocence stood before him that very day and he was hooked. Hooked on your gaze, your smile, your scent, but most of all, your innocence and blind naivety to the world.

He knew then and there, that you were his to ruin.

Every Sunday from then on, his eyes were stuck on you, what you were wearing, the way your cheeks flushed when your eyes met his. Everything about you was mere perfection. A sight of innocence, of naivety that he couldn’t wait to take hold of and ruin for every other man.

He wanted his name to be the last thing on your lips at night, and the first thing to be spoken in the morning. He wanted to curse your mind with images of him, to make you worship him instead of God. And so, in his mind he curated the perfect plan to get you alone.

“Go forth, knowing that you are cherished,” His voice, a deep texan accent, talking to the congregation, “chosen and empowered by the Creator of the Universe.” But why did it feel as though he was talking to purely you? His words, so enchanting you lingered on every line he spoke. His sermons were fresh, new and slightly modern. A stark contrast from Father Rafferty’s sermons.

“May his grace be upon you. Now and forevermore.” He looks up, eyes scanning the room before landing on yours. Dark brown iris’ peering into your soul, as you feel your cheeks flush. He likes the way your cheeks blush when you look at him. You want him. You need him, he tells himself. “Amen.” He states as you look away, the rest of the congregation, including yourself muttering a simple ‘Amen.’

As you and your family stand up in preparation to leave, Father Miller approaches you, a wide smile on his lips with his Bible and rosary beads in hand. “Mr and Mrs Spencer.” He says, shaking your fathers hand. “How lovely it is to see you again.”

“Well, Father, we could never miss one of your services.” Your mother speaks as you look idly at the floor, eyes tracing over the darkened, dented wood from where people have walked over time. You tune out the conversation, feeling ashamed for dropping Father Millers eyes earlier, and feeling so stupid for blushing.

“Won’t you, honey?” Your fathers voice snaps you out from your thoughts, eyes wide as you look between the three of them. “Pardon?” You ask, heart thumping in your chest.

“Father Miller wants you to help him decorate the church for Easter Sunday. There’ll be plenty of other people there. I think it’d be an excellent idea.” Your father says, as your eyes dart to Father Millers. He smiles, a sweet smile. A comforting, pleasant smile which puts you at ease. Those dark chocolate brown eyes, soft and kind.

You nod, and he clasped his hands together in glee. “Well, perfect. It’ll take a little while, but there’ll be plenty of breaks and we’ll provide food. Hopefully you don’t mind me keeping your daughter occupied for the entire day.” Father Miller says, and your parents don’t seem to mind. Just as long as you’re being the perfect catholic girl you’ve always been. Just as long as you’re kept out of trouble, and as long as you help Father Miller with whatever he needs.

A devout catholic you were. Born and baptised, risen in a strong catholic household and desperate to please the priest. You’d do anything he’d say or ask, as long as it wasn’t a sin, and Joel knew that. He knew how desperate you were to please someone so close to God, his messenger, how you itched to be as pure and holy as one could be. He knew he’d got you wrapped around his little finger

And so, the plan was set in motion. And at 11am on the following Thursday, you were there at the church doors, pushing the solid oak open as you walk into the dim room, the only form of light being the candles Father Miller had lit and the sun shining through the stained-glass windows.

Expecting to be met with various murmurs and fellow church-goers, you find the place empty. Completely deserted, almost, until your eyes lay on him. Tall, stoic and his gaze piercing at you, taking you in. Your small frame, your long white dress, the way your hair lay against your shoulders. The image of innocence.

He smiles, that same sweet smile that he gave you the previous Sunday. “You made it.” He says, walking towards you with his arms out, almost as though he was going to envelope you in a hug.

But he didn’t. He clasped his hands together, rubbing his palms together. “Father Miller.” You exhale softly, eyes scoping the otherwise empty church. “I thought we were all meeting here at eleven. Where is everyone?” You ask, twirling a strand of long hair around your index finger.

He shrugs. “‘m afraid I don’t know. I did invite them.” He says, lying through his teeth. You wouldn’t know that, of course. Too naive to think any differently, to even have a thought that Father Miller may just lie to you. Truth is, he didn’t invite anyone else. Not a single soul. It was only you and him.

You frown, clearly unhappy with the way no one else seemed to turn up but you. The way they so blatantly chose to ignore Father Miller’s need for help. “But you asked for help, surely they should’ve come.”

“Perhaps they got busy.” He lies, looking around the church, eyes glaring at the empty walls. “Anyways, this place won’t decorate itself.” He grins, turning and walking towards the back, hand gesturing for you to follow.

And you do, obediently. Into the back room of the church, full of foldable tables and chairs, boxes of decorations and broken pews. It’s dark, and smells of dust and mildew. The smell violates your nose as you try to adjust to the light, and then Joel flicks a switch, and a singular, dim lightbulb sparks to life.

You grimace at the surroundings. Untidy, dusty and slightly damp. There’s a dark oak table in the corner of the room, covered in cardboard boxes that are filled to the brim. Obviously this room hardly gets properly taken care of, but in a small town like yours, you aren’t surprised. Most of the things that enter this room hardly come back out, unless needed. But, you aren’t here to judge, you’re here to help. Help this poor, middle-aged priest who blessed the community with his sermons and his striking good looks… wait what?

You sigh as you approach the table full of boxes, slender fingers prising open the lids and rooting through the boxes of old memories and décor.

Behind you, Joel was hungrily glaring at your figure. The way you got to work without any questions. So submissive, so silent. Oh, how he can’t wait to hear you moan his name. To cum all over his cock, to..

“Father Miller?” His thoughts are cut off by your melodic voice drifting through the air. “What exactly are we looking for?”

He chuckles, slowly approaching the table. “Sweetheart, it’s not Sunday, and we’re not in a sermon. Please, call me Joel. Let’s drop the formalities for now.” He smiles, looking down at you, and then, his hand is on your lower back. Hardly an inch above your ass. “Just some decorations. Some banners, the candles, my white robe should be in here somewhere.”

You gasp, the feeling foreign and leaving a strange feeling in your loins. You look up from the boxes of discarded mess, eyes meeting his. “Father Miller..” You start, but he glares at you, eyebrows raised. You squint your eyes shut and scrunch your face up, mentally cursing at yourself for not using the name he’d asked you to use. “I mean, Joel..” You clear your throat. “Why would your robe be in here? Surely it should be at your house, or somewhere safe atleast?” Your eyes slowly open, meeting his again.

He looks at his hand, gliding it up and down your back slowly, as though he was comforting you. “Well, William – Sorry, Father Rafferty left it in here for me. Just haven’t had chance to come rootin’ through the boxes.” He hums, a low tune, a soft one. “So, Sweetheart, tell me.. have you ever sinned?”

The abrupt question makes you freeze up, frown at the thought and straighten up slightly, eyebrows furrowed. “What sort of a question is that?” You ask. “Of course not. Well… I don’t think I have.” You say, wracking your brain for an answer. It’s normal for him to ask these sorts of questions, right? He’s just looking out for you. To make sure you’re on the right path, that you’re pure and holy. You’ve never even looked at another man in a sinful way, let alone kiss one. Sure, you might think the odd boy is cute, and maybe you’ve looked at Father Miller – Joel in a different way, and that’s made you feel sinful. You have to admit though, his scruffy salt and pepper beard, dark eyes and calloused hands are no match for any of the local boys. Joel was beautiful. Handsome, even. But he was thirty years your junior, and the priest. It’d ruin his career and his relationship with God, yours too. You couldn’t do it to yourself.

“You’ve never kissed a boy?” He asks, curiosity peaking. You knew kissing wasn’t a sin, but it’s not like you needed to worry about it. You shake your head, saying nothing. “Would you like to kiss one?” He asks, his body suddenly moving to engulf yours, his crotch right against your ass as he wraps his arms around your waist. You shudder at the movement, his breath hot against your ear.

“Father, I’m not sure this is right.” The formalities are back, you’re unsure, nervous and confused. Never once has he acted this way towards you, so flirtatious and curious. And yet you find yourself wanting more. A burning forming deep inside of you.

“Joel.” He corrects. “And it’s alright, darling. Won’t do nothing you don’t want me to do.” He grabs your hips and turns you around in his arms so you’re facing him. He places his index finger under your chin, lifting your head up to look at him, his eyes piercing yours.

You swallow thickly, eyes scanning his features. His scruffy beard is stark in contrast to his combed-back hair. The weathering on is face is showing, proving his age, showing how wise he is. He’s gorgeous, for an older man. You never would’ve assumed he was in his fifties, had he not told you. You bite your lip, weighing out the pros and cons in your mind of potentially giving your first kiss to this man.

“Just tell me what you want, Darlin’.” He speaks, “it’s not a sin. Well, it’s definitely not a sin if you kiss me. We won’t be doing anything wrong.” He urges, watching intently as your tongue pokes out and swipes against your lower lip. You nod, if anyone should know about sin it’s him. If anyone should know what’s right or wrong, it’s him.

He doesn’t waste a second, closing the space between the pair of you, his lips pressing against yours. They’re plump and warm against yours, and you’re not sure what to do. You try to copy his movements, lips moving when his do. It’s hard and confusing at first, but you manage to get the hang of it slowly. It’s innocent at first. Soft, sweet and oh, so innocent. But the more he presses against you, the more your back presses against you solid oak table. The sharp edge digging into your back, the pain making you gasp. Joel takes this opportunity to slide his tongue between your lips. A wet, warm foreign feeling in your mouth.

It’s a long kiss, deep and hungry. His tongue prodding and attacking your mouth every so often, and you could swear you feel something warm and tingly in your lower stomach. You’re stood awkwardly, hands by your sides with absolutely no sense of direction, that is until Joel takes your hands and places them around his neck. You allow it, and as you settle in, his hands find their place on your waist, calloused fingers digging through your cotton dress.

You wince as he nips your bottom lip with his teeth, and you pull away, a string of saliva still connecting the two of you. His eyes dark with a newfound fire in them, and something you can’t quite put your finger on.

“Fuck angel, you taste so good.” Joel whispers, his hand coming up and brushing through your hair as he takes your form in. Slightly plumped lips, red and glossy from your shared saliva, eyes wide and still in shock from the moments. “I can’t get enough of you.”

He leans in again, and even though you expect for him to kiss you again, his lips find a new place – on your neck. His beard tickles the sensitive skin, his lips trailing down your neck to your collarbone, which only just peaks out of your modest dress. Your breath catches in your throat, the fire in your stomach growing strangely stronger, more apparent. You sigh out as he plants a wet kiss against your collarbone, his tongue gliding from your collarbone up to your earlobe.

“Such a good girl.” He murmurs in your ear, his fists grabbing your dress and starting to pull it up. You gasp, placing your hand on top of his to stop him, shaking your head.

“No.” You state. “That’s a sin, I can’t go any further, Father. It’s not right.” You tussle in his grip. “I’m waiting until marriage like I should, like God said I should.”

“Oh, sweet girl.” He purrs, slowly shaking your hand off his. “It’s not a sin if you do it with me. It doesn’t count.” He lies, tugging your dress up so it’s just above your waist. He slips his free hand into the waistband of your panties, hissing as his fingers are met with your arousal. “Oh, baby.” He purrs, his finger skilfully prodding your clit. You whine in his arms. “You’re so wet, so desperate.” Wet? That’s what it is? You’re aroused? By this? That strange, unfamiliar feeling in your gut was caused by him?

His fingers swipe your clit, moving at different angles until your face twisted in pleasure and your mouth drops open. A strangled moan comes from the back of your throat, a noise you didn’t even know you could make. A noise you shouldn’t make, but you can’t help it. You can’t stop the chorus of moans falling from your lips, and to Joel it sounds just like a hymn sung in church. So beautiful and melodic to his ears. He loves it.

His index finger trails down, making you frown at the loss of pleasure, prodding your tight hole. You gasp, immediately itching to get out of his grip again. His grip only tightens, and he pulls his hand out of your panties. He looks at the wetness on his hand in the dim light, admiring the shine and your embarrassed face. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, Sweetheart.” He winks before popping his fingers in his mouth and sucking your juices clean off them. You at him in both shock and awe as he reaches behind you and clears the table off, boxes falling on the floor with decorations scattering around the room.

He lifts you up, your dress still hiked around your waist as he places you on the table, stepping between your thighs. “You gon’ show me all of you, pretty girl?” He asks, caressing your face with the same hand he just sucked clean. You felt sick to your stomach, but at the same time, you yearned for more.

“Forgive me, Father..” You mutter quietly to the man himself upstairs, as you nod your head and lift your arms up. Joel takes complete advantage of this, removing your dress and discarding it on the dirty floor. You know it’ll be dirty and possibly ruined when you retrieve it after, but you’re sure you’ll make something up to appease your parents.

He whistles lowly at the sight of you in your underwear, and since he asked if you would show him all of you, he doesn’t ask if he can unclasp your bra, he just does it, hardly giving you time to react. The cool air immediately makes your nipples harden, stiff peaks standing to attention, desperate to be touched. To be manhandled and played with. He discards your bra ontop of your dress, his hands coming back and cupping your boobs.

You bite your lip at the new sensation as he fondles them “Do you trust me?” He asks, what a stupid question – of course you do. You nod, and he removes his hands from your breasts, his fingers sliding into the waistband of your panties. You lift yourself off the table slightly, after a glare of expectance from Joel, and he pries your soaking wet panties from your body, the soft pink colour now darker where wet.

“Oh, Darlin’.” He groans as he fingers the damp patch, and your cheeks grow hot again. “I’ve hardly even touched you. Hardly even shown you what a good time I can give ya.” He grins, a devilish grin, as he stuffs your soiled panties into his back pocket.

You shiver in anticipation, any worries of sinning or ruining yourself for marriage being long gone. After all, Father Joel Miller said it was okay, and that it wasn’t a sin asking as you did it with him, and he wouldn’t lie to you, right?

He kneels down in between your legs, groaning as his knees click, a sign of his old age. It should snap you out of this, remind you this isn’t who you are, but it does the opposite. Makes you yearn for him, crave him. He grabs your thighs and thrusts you closer to him so your ass is just barely on the table. With one arm wrapped around your waist, he uses his free hand to gently spread your lips, your pussy shining with arousal in the dim light. Glistening, calling for him, he exhales shakily. “Gotta stay still for me, Baby, okay?”

He dives forward, your soaking cunt spread open for him still, and he places a gentle, chaste kiss on your clit. A simple movement that has you jolting, and him chuckling at your reaction. A low, monotone tune.

“God girl, you’re a nasty little thing, huh?” He doesn’t even give you time to answer before he licks a straight line from your tight hole up to your clit. Your moans have his cock rock hard, painfully stretching against his pants. If he doesn’t get to fuck you, he’ll definitely masturbate to the thought of your moans, the way your cheeks were red and eyes glossed over.

He repeats it a couple of more times, licking stripes up your pussy, purely doing it to wind you up and tease you further, as if you weren’t already a soaking mess for him. He takes pity on you and your whines, leaning forward and wrapping his plump lips around your clit, ravenously devouring your pussy as though he hadn’t eaten for days.

It’s pleasure unlike anything you’ve felt before. So intoxicating and mind numbing, you could live on this feeling. Your hands grip the edge of the table, knuckles turning white as you moan, your hips subconsciously rocking and grinding into his mouth. “Joel.” You groan, and he only hums in response, noisily lapping up your leaking juices.

He brings his hand down, the one that was spreading your lips, and gently prods his middle finger against your tight hole. He gently pushes it in, despite your slight squirming and whines, holding it still to allow your pussy to get used to this new feeling, to this intruder. Then, he’s slowly thrusting his finger into you, all the while he’s completely devouring your pussy.

The feeling burns slightly, but is quick to wear off as it soon turns to pleasure, his finger hitting a certain spot that makes you see stars, that makes you unaware of how loud you are, how pitiful you sound. You don’t even realise he’s brought his second finger into the mix until the burn returns and you feel yourself being stretched out further.

You cry out, your hand shooting to his wrist. “Stop.” You command, voice wavering. “Too full.” He pulls his head away, chuckling lowly at the command.

“Too full?” He asks, “How do you expect me to fit my cock in your pretty pussy if you won’t even let me put my second finger in?” He raises an eyebrow. “I thought you were my good girl, are you not? Look at how wet you are, how well you’re taking my fingers.” He gently pushes his fingers in further as he speaks. You look down, the sight simply sinful. Your tight pussy engulfing his large calloused fingers, your juices all over his fingers and knuckles.

“Slowly.” You demand, gently releasing his wrist, and thankfully, he does. He pushes his fingers in, and you’re full. Fuller than you were before, and you didn’t even know that was possible. To feel so filled up and yet.. good? It’s slow, the way his fingers thrust in and out of you, inching deeper every time. It’s progress when the burning subsides, and you nod at Joel.

“Better.” You confirm, and he doesn’t need to ask twice.

His fingers slowly pick up the pace, his tongue attacking your clit again, your hips grinding against him, desperate for more friction, and you don’t even realise you’re doing it.

The burning in your lower abdomen grows stronger, more apparent. Like you’re building up to something momentum, something life changing. “Joel.” You moan. “Fuck, oh God.” You curse, not caring for the moment who hears you curse, or use Gods name in vain. You’ll pray later.

He pulls his lips away from you, smirking up at you. “Gonna cum, baby?” He asks, but you’re unsure. “Let go, Sweet girl. Show me how you cum all over my fingers. Show me how bad you can do.”

Your mouth drops open as his fingers hit that special spot, eyes seemingly rolling into the back of your head as it washes over you. The best thing you’ve felt in your life, crashing over you again and again. You see white flashes, and you feel like you’re on cloud nine. You don’t even realise that you’ve grabbed Joel’s wrist again to keep him in place, your hips rocking back and forth on his fingers.

You’re sweaty, beads of sweat have fallen down your chest, your thighs, and when you come to, you feel filthy, sinful, wrong. Like you’ve just had a piece of you taken. You look down, mouth dropping open as you gently release him from your ironclad grip. “I’m so sorry.” You blubber.

He pulls his fingers out of you, grinning wide at his accomplishment. “Look at that..” He pops his fingers in his mouth, sucking them dry. “Not so innocent, huh? You naughty girl. I heard you curse Gods name.”

“Please don’t mention that to anyone. It was wrong of me. I’m sorry, that shouldn’t of happened.” You plead, the thought of what the community may do to you scares you. You’ve seen what lengths they go to in order to shun someone. “I’ll do anything, just don’t tell them.”

He smirks. “Well, you could do one of two things. You could get on your knees at home and pray to God that he’ll forgive you, although there’s a very low chance of that happening, you sinful little minx.” He chuckles at your sorrowful face. “Or, you can turn around, bend over and let me fuck the sin out of you. I’m sure he’ll forgive you if every drop of sin has been eradicated from your body. Your choice.” He stands, groaning softly as his knees crack again, that reminder of his age causing your pussy to pulse in arousal.

You sigh, wordlessly standing up on wobbly legs. You turn around, gently laying your sweaty body against the table. Your stomach covered in the wetness you’d left behind, the rest of your body being welcomed by the coolness of the wood. “I want him to forgive me.” You squeak.

A feeling of pride in his chest, he smiles. You hear the sound of his belt unbuckling, and then the rustle of his pants as he pulls his cock from out of his boxers. He holds his hand out infront of you. “Spit.”

You gather all the spit in your mouth, spitting it into the palm of his hand. You wonder what he’s going to use your saliva for. “This isn’t going to hurt more than your fingers, is it?” You can hear him stroking himself with your spit, a wet, sloppy sound. You can’t help but wonder what his cock looks like. Is it big? Is it thick? Is it tanned like his sunglowed skin?

“Different for everyone, Angel. Shouldn’t hurt for long if it does.” He says, his free hand adjusting your form slightly. He stands behind you, getting himself into position. “The fact you just came should make it so much easier, and less painful.” He gently pushes the tip of his cock into your tight hole, hissing.

You cry out, the burning sensation stronger than ever as you feel yourself being stretched out around his thick cock. Tears prick your eyes. It’s unpleasant, you feel like you’re being ripped into two, like his cock is going to break you. “Too big.” You cry out again.

He tuts. “You said that about my fingers.” He rolls his eyes. “Too big.” He mocks in a slightly girlish tone. This isn’t the Miller you know. This is someone entirely different. His whole demeanour has changed in a matter of seconds, from the second you bent over for him, he’s far more dominant. “We got my fingers in, didn’t we? Just breathe.” He reaches his freehand down, rubbing your clit in small circles to get you to ease up.

You do as he says, taking deep breaths in through your nose as he continues to stretch your tight hole out around him. It takes what seems like forever before he finally bottoms out, and you hear him sigh. He stays still for a moment, allowing you to adjust before starting to slowly thrust into you.

The burn takes a while to ease off, but when it does and you finally get to embrace the feeling of being truly full up, you’re in shock. You thought two fingers was full, you were wrong.

“This pussy is so fucking tight.” He grunts, his hips slapping against yours as his pace speeds up. “Should’ve fucked you sooner, Pretty girl.” You moan in response, table creaking as he fucks you against it.

“Deeper.” You blurt out. Your body and mouth no longer felt like it belonged to you, it belonged to your lust. Your desperation to cum all over his cock again.

He obliges. “So fucking needy.” He scoffs, but smirks as your moans turn into callings of his name and strings of curses, the tip of his cock nudging that oh so sweet spot you’ve learnt to appreciate in what feels like seconds.

The sounds of skin slapping, moans from you and grunts from him echo around the room, bouncing off the walls and right into your ears, reminding you how your innocence is gone, how you’re no longer pure. How sinful you’ve become, something you’ve lived your entire life avoiding. Something you were taught to never even think about happening, something you were taught to shun others for. And now look at you, what a hypocrite. Bent over a table, being fucked by a man, who despite being very attractive, is decades older than you.

That same feeling is forming in your stomach as he fucks you harder, faster, deeper than before. He’s chasing after his own orgasm too, he can’t help but crumble when it comes to you. You’re just too perfect, and your pussy is his own personal brand of heroin.

It comes abruptly, without any warning, attacks you and your senses. You’re blinded by stars, head dizzy and body feeling heavy.

He gasps, grunting loudly. “Oh, you dirty girl.” He moans, his thrusts becoming sloppy and shallow. Your pussy strangles his cock as you pulsate around it, and it pushes him over the edge.

You can feel him spilling his hot cum inside of you, his cock pulsating in response to your pussy pulsating around him. He collapses on you for a minute, his clothed chest against your naked, sweaty back. You stay like this for a while until you clear your throat and he gets up, his dick now soft as it slips out of you, a mixture of your juices trickling down your legs.

He steps back to admire the view. Your ruined pussy, pumped full of his cum, pulsating around nothing. He hums as he tucks himself back into his pants, tutting at the small wet patch near his zipper. “Messy girl.” He mutters.

You gently push yourself up, grimacing at the feeling of the mixture of your juices trickling down your soft, shaky thighs. You bend over slowly, picking your discarded bra up from the floor and putting it back on. “Can I have my underwear back?”

He shakes his head. “They’re mine now, Angel.” He gives you a cheeky grin. You groan and point down to the mess trickling down your legs, and his response to that is to give you an old rag from one of the boxes.

You clean yourself up the best you can with the resources you’re given, but it’s not enough. He’s pumped you full of his cum and it’s still trickling out. You just decide you’re going to have to pray for the best. You pick up your once pristine white dress, now crumpled and dirty from the floor. You pour, seeing as it was picture perfect only this morning. You sigh, placing it over your head.

“Now, come on. We’ve got a church to decorate.” He winks at you, grabbing a box of decorations and walking out of the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and feelings.

————————————————————————

Tags: @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

A/N: sorry but i think it’s absolutely ironic that I’m posting this on the day i’m actually going to church (christening).

962 notes · View notes

javier-penas-wifexx420 · 4 months

Text

Godless

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

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

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

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

word count: ~5.6k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded,

“Yeah.” You sniffled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joel Miller.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You started to feel sick.

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

A spike of fear bolted through you.

"W-what?"

Your pimp sighed and turned to you,

"Go get y'things honey."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded as tears ran down your face silently.

“Move out.” Joel addressed his men.

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

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

Joel reached out and grabbed your arm,

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

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

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

She pulled away and grabbed your face in her hands.

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

You hiccuped and shook your head,

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

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

Everyone stared at him, silent and full of fear.

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

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

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

Joel smiled at the man coldly,

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

“M-my whore.” The man warbled.

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

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

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

“Get me the rope, John.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Go on."

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

"Thank you." You said softly.

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

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

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

Joel shook his head after a moment.

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

You smiled a little bit at that last part.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn't know what to expect from him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes sir." You said quickly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Compliant little thing.

He suddenly got an idea.

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

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

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

“Take off your dress.” He said quietly.

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

“I-what?”

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

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

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

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

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

"Knew you were a good girl."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Go get on the bed for me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded quickly.

"Say it."

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

"Thas' right."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He liked how responsive you were, how obedient.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh fuck.

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

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

You sighed, contentedly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes sir." You said softly.

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

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

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

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

You hated that you were even thinking that.

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

THANK YOU FOR READING I LOVE YOU

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

YEEHAW LETS RIDE🐎🐎🐎

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