#joel miller knife play

[theplumsoldier]

sore loser

summary: the scales of your rivalry with joel miller tips in his favor as he calls out your mistake and you end up a loser. the classic "you hate your partner but fucks him anyway"

pairing: mean!joel miller x afab!reader

warnings: 18+ please and thank you, hate sex, rough vaginal sex, spitting, slapping, choking, fingering, squirting, sloppy/rough blow job, degradation, age-gap, begging, biting, mean!joel, forced orgasm & multiple orgasms, tasting joel's blood?? no aftercare please let me know if i missed anything!! (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)

You hated everything about him. You hated the way he looked, the way he spoke, and the way he walked. You hated how he was always confident, how he was always right, and the fact that he always knew which buttons to push. You hated how he was a better shooter than you, how he was better at finding supplies than you, and how he was better at tracking than you. You hated his salt-and-pepper beard, the curls in his hair, and his sun-kissed skin. You hated his brown eyes, his deep voice, and his large hands. You hated how he treated you like a child, how he called you "kid", and how he looked after you.

Most of all, right now, you hated that he shot the clicker before you managed to put a knife to its skull, how he made it look like you couldn't save yourself. He took the win and he got the point.

It was a game and you were losing this battle for dominance, and you hated losing to Joel Miller.

You had been biting your tongue so damn hard to keep yourself from stooping down on his level and the taste of blood lingered in your mouth for about 4 minutes before the last straw had been drawn.

Joel just couldn't stop himself from being an ass and work in yet another one of his snarky remarks.

"Get over yourself, Miller. I had it handled," you grumbled.

"Sure looked like it," he retorted sarcastically, making scattering noises as he dug through a crate in the warehouse.

The way he didn't even bother looking at you only made you more furious. "How the fuck do you think I survived this long on my own, huh? I've been—"

"Ask myself that every time I save your ass," he interrupted mockingly.

Your blood was boiling in your veins. He felt so fucking superior and it was driving you insane. You knew your worth, but for some reason, you had this crippling urge to prove yourself.

"Somebody needs to knock you off your fucking horse, Miller."

Joel chuckled grimly. "S'that right, sweetheart? Wanna give it a go?"

His infuriating words made you stand to your feet, and frankly, it excited Joel to see you acting like you might just do something about it.

With a groan he got up himself, easily towering over you. You swallowed harshly, jaw clenched.

Joel's face was set in a firm expression, dark eyes analyzing your face to predict your next move. It was a face-off.

There was a subtle smirk and you wanted to wipe it off so badly. This was entertaining to him—a challenge he joined, a game he played just for the kick of it.

You couldn't win a fight against him, you were smart enough to recognize that fact (at least for now). So you breathed out, your nervousness drawing out a shaky laugh.

"I hate you," you spat and turned around, sure you'd only dig a deeper hole for yourself if you looked at him any longer.

"That what you tell yourself when you dip your little fingers down between your legs?" he wondered aloud, not even testing the waters but diving head first into the lake of all your buttons that he planned to push: "Don't think I don't hear you moaning my name when you get off in the night."

Your eyes went wide and shame colored your cheeks pink. You hoped he wouldn't notice as your eyes shot daggers, completely dumbfounded, hoped your anger had already made your face red. You were at a loss for words, completely and utterly embarrassed.

The mixture of emotions compiled a message to your brain for you, and before you had a chance to regret it, you lashed out. Your hand stopped clenching and raised to deliver a well-deserved proper bitch-slap, but Joel caught your wrist. It all happened quickly, and it felt like you were watching on rather than being forced back against the wall, arms suspended against the cool and rough cement in his grasp.

Joel's head cocked, eyes blazing down at you. "You wanna try that again, sweetheart?"

The sudden close proximity made you involuntarily grind your hips forward.

"So that's what all this s'about, huh? You’ve been givin' me that bratty attitude 'cause ya got your panties in a twist?"

"Fuck you!" you snapped, the words seething through your grit teeth, leaving a bad aftertaste on your tongue.

"But that's what you want, innit sweetheart? Goin' around acting like I'm the devil's spawn, but really you just want a good fucking, yeah?"

You hated how he was always right.

Your arms strained in his grasp, writhing to get loose though the heat pooling between your legs protested. You enjoyed having him this close. You could smell him, see him.

"You're so fucking full of yourself, Miller," you snarled but had stopped trying to fight off his grip.

Joel chuckled down at you, tutting: "F’you wanna be full o' me, too, darlin', all you gotta do is ask nicely."

There was no fucking way he was actually offering to fuck you. It had to be a dream. A nightmare. But it wasn't. And he was offering exactly that, you realized as his head tilted. He was dead serious.

You knew it wasn't out of the good of his heart, so he must be wanting this, too. And if he needed it as much as you did, you were going to make him work for it.

You ground your hips into his again, this time very much on purpose.

"Tell me you don't want to bend me over right now, Miller," you leaned forward and whispered in his ear, letting your lips graze the soft flesh of his neck. His cock was hard against your cunt and he didn't do a thing to push you away. "Tell me you haven't just been dying to try out this tight pussy. An old man like you can't have had a proper fuck in ages."

He laughed. "Swallow your pride, sweetheart. You've never even been with a real man before, have ya? Always waltzin' around in your short skirts at the Byson, whoring yourself out for attention from those boys."

"Knew you'd been checking me out," you smirked, the movements of your hips now a consistent grind against him. "But you're right. And those boys can't help, they dunno how to handle me."

"I don't do charities, darlin'. F’you want me to fuck that shitty attitude out of ya, you're gonna have to prove yourself."

This time around, Joel pushed his clothed cock against your pussy and you knew what he wanted.

You wriggled your hands, inching closer to his face but never letting your skin touch. "Kinda difficult to get on my knees when you’re holding me like this, innit?"

Joel let go only to force you down on the ground, but you didn't protest. You had lost all filters, all of your arrogance as you were faced with his cock prodding at the zipper of his jeans.

Looking up as you eagerly undid his belt, you were pleased to see him inhaling deeply, proudly as he looked down on you. You pulled the zipper down, and your breath hitched as his cock saluted. He wasn't wearing underwear.

His cock was thicker than you had imagined, girthier than what you had felt while fingering yourself that night which he had so mockingly reminded you of. Long with a slight curve and a purple mushroom head unscathed. A drop of pre-cum covered the slit and you imagined it was crying for you.

"You gonna put that bratty little mouth to good use or do I gotta do that for you, too?"

Instinctively you glared up at him, giving him a look but it was washed away a second later as he took charge.

Grabbing a fistful of your hair, Joel forced you onto his cock, not giving you a second to wet your lips or spit on it. Harshly pushing you down on his cock, you found that it wasn't needed, there was plenty of saliva in your mouth to lubricate him. A whimper left you when his head hit the back of your mouth, your throat automatically constricting at the sudden intrusion. You felt your cunt mimic the reaction and clenched around nothing.

Joel was heavy in your mouth, the thickness making you worry the back row of your teeth would scrape him. If they did he didn't care, for when you looked up at him through teary eyes he was unconcerned.

He forcefully prodded against your throat, slipping in just enough to push further and you gagged.

Joel inhaled sharply. "S'a tight little throat you got there. Guess you haven't been whoring around as much as I thought," he chuckled, holding your face pressed firmly against him, your nose nuzzled in the patch of curls.

He held you there for a couple of seconds, allowing your throat to get adjusted despite acting seemingly careless about how you felt. A moment later he pulled you off by your hair, and you gasped hoarsely, blinking up at him through the tears slowly blurring your vision.

Hovering over you, Joel cupped your cheeks and lifted you slightly, bending down as he did. For a second you thought he was going to kiss you, but his fingers dug into your face, forcing your mouth open for him and he spat on your tongue, an obscene look on his face.

"Eyes on the price, sweetheart," he chuckled and landed you back on your knees.

With his hand holding you tightly by a makeshift ponytail, Joel pushed his cock back into your mouth and without warning, set a brutal pace sure to give you a headache. As slick gathered between your legs, a migraine was the least of your worries. You snaked a hand between your legs to relieve the tingling strain.

The breaths you were granted came in between the thrusts and you squeezed your eyes shut, feeling dizzy, prompting him to yank at your hair.

"Look at me," he grunted coarsely, voice going straight to your sex and you ground down hard on your hand, gasping for air. Joel admired your puffy lips, smeared with saliva, strings of drool connecting your mouth to the tip of his cock. "You look like a fuckin' mess, sweetheart. This what you been thinkin' about, hm? Been thinking 'bout acting like a little slut f'me, huh?"

His degrading words fueled your fire, both making you want to bite back at him and make him come down your throat. Opting for the latter, you tried to take him back in your mouth, wanting to put your adjusted throat to good use, but he yanked you back. A whimper left your lips and he slapped your cheek, forcing you to look at him.

"F'you know what's good for you, you'll answer when I ask you a question."

Wet and needy, you didn't hesitate. "Yes! Yes, Joel," you cried, one hand on his hip for purchase, the other hid between your legs, fervently toying with your clit. "Wanted you to treat me like a whore! Wa—wanted you to fuck me stupid!"

That's when he noticed your hand between your legs, eagerly seeking out friction. His brows connected in a crease of anger, and he had you on your wobbly legs one moment and hurled you onto a dirty surface the next.

"The fuck you think you're doin', huh? Touching yourself without permission?" Joel growled and for the first time his disappointment got to you.

He held you by your throat and you could feel the calluses in his palm scrape your skin.

"M'sorry—couldn't help myself," you babbled feverishly as he shoved a hand down your undone pants, feeling just what you had been so disrespectful to touch.

A guttural moan escaped him and you could have died just then, knowing you did that to him.

"Christ, sweetheart. You got this wet from chokin' on my cock, huh?" he mused absent-minded and you couldn't decide which you liked more; Joel calling you "sweetheart" or— "such a fuckin' slut.”

You were startled but thankful when he pulled down your jeans in one swift movement, exposing you to the cold air in the warehouse.

He didn't give you a warning before he plunged two fingers into your cunt, curling them against the velvety roof of your wet cave. Clawing onto his shoulder with a gasp of surprise, you instinctively tried to lift yourself and relieve the overwhelmingly intense feeling.

"Where you goin', sweetheart? This not what you wanted?" You desperately wanted to slap the grin off of his face, but he had you completely wrapped around his finger. Literally and figuratively. "Didn't you wanna be used like a little slut, hm?"

"Please," you begged, drawing the word out with a rugged moan and clutching to his shoulders. "Ff—uck!"

He fingered you at an unforgiving pace, three fingers and his palm slapping against your cunt each time. The squelches from your pussy resonated off the bare walls and if you hadn't been so focused on the pain mixing with pleasure, you would have been ashamed Joel was the one making you this wet.

"Joel!" you cried, tugging at the front of his shirt. "Plea-please! Need your cock!"

He choked you with his unoccupied hand, forcing your face inches from his. "Quit whinin' or I'll leave you 'ere," he threatened.

You looked up at him through hooded eyes, unable to comprehend your increasing lust for him from being this close. Joel's breath was hot on your face, breathing his air, you became dizzy from a mix of him and your impending orgasm.

"That's right, sweetheart, cream all o'er my fingers," he beckoned, feeling your contracting walls squeeze his fingers. Your legs were trembling, wanton moans spilling from your lips as Joel pulled an orgasm from you.

You incoherently begged him to fill you up, wanting nothing more than to milk his thick cock, but when he caught sight of your pleading eyes, he applied pressure to your clit instead. It was sore from the heel of his palm having slapped it repeatedly and it made you unable to come down from your high properly.

Your legs spasmed as his torturous fingers brutally skirted across your bundle of nerves. Before you could process what happened, a gush of pleasure sprayed from you.

Your cheeks flushed pink, realizing Joel had just made you squirt. You had never done that before, and you looked at him with an expression of surprise mixed with confusion. He looked proud.

Joel groaned as he stroked his throbbed cock, smearing the precum over the head while his other hand pushed down hard on your belly, holding you just at the edge of the table.

Stammering his name, your attempt at any sort of coherent sentence was foiled as he slid his girthy cock into your cunt.

Your eyes fluttered shut, walls clenching around him. You had never felt so full. "Joel—" you shuddered, gripping his bicep for purchase.

A string of curses left his lips, a crease knitting his brows together in concentration. "Fuckin' hell, sweetheart, s'a tight lil' hole ya got 'ere."

Joel wanted to take a moment just then, revel in the sweet clench of your pussy, catch his breath but he knew you would notice. As much as he had a hidden desire to ruin every other man for you and have you tail him like a lost puppy, he refused to acknowledge how overdue this was.

He didn't give you another second to adjust before he rocked his hips back and slammed his cock back into you. If you thought his fingers hit a spot, his cock fucking destroyed that.

You couldn't even form moans properly as his hips rutted at a bruising pace, expertly molding your cunt to fit him. His face contorted and he grumbled something under his breath, but you didn't care to ponder what as he filled you up. You were still dazed from the previous orgasms and it was like he wouldn't allow you to come down. Your ragged breaths, his grunts, and the wanton sounds of skin slapping filled your head as you soared around on cloud nine.

A large hand snuck under your shirt, the calluses on his palm rough against your skin but you loved the feeling as he squeezed your breast, thumb and index pinching your nipple.

Your knuckles turned pale from clutching down hard on his shoulders, fingernails clawing indents at the exposed skin on his neck and collar.

You hoped the crescents would outlast this moment, that Joel would curse at the sight the next time he looked in a mirror. You hoped he wouldn't be able to get this moment out of his head then, not ever, thinking back to this moment whenever he would see the scars you left on him.

A hiss escaped you and tore the thought of making your mark out of your mind. His deft fingers were rubbing your sore clit once again.

There was determination on his face and animalistic hunger in his dark eyes—he looked as if there was no getting through to him, like he was stuck in a world of his own.

Whether he insisted on drawing orgasm after orgasm out of you for your pleasure or his ego, you did not know. Joel always had something to prove—to himself or the people around him, it was another thing about him you didn't know. In this moment, as he chased every high for you, you didn't care either.

You hated him for making you feel this good. Hated him for making you moan in pleasure, hated him for making your legs shake uncontrollably. You wanted to taunt him, crack a spiteful comment about his age or something, let him know he wasn't doing as well as he thought—but he was. You could lie, but your body would betray you.

There was no snide comment left in you as Joel's hips pistoned into yours. It felt too good. He felt too good.

"S'too much," you gasped and held onto his shoulder, not pushing him away but not pulling him any closer either. "I can't."

The pressure on your clit was too much. The frantic rubbing, the harsh pads of his fingers, mixing pleasure with pain in the most unforgiving way. It hurt too good to want to stop him, though.

Joel surprised you, pressing his forehead against yours. His eyes were heavy, and his jaw was slack, the blissful expression ruined by a smug chuckle.

"You can. C'mon, sweetheart, I believe in you," he tutted like one would to a child riding a bike for the first time.

It spurred something inside you, the degradation. Your hooded, watery eyes caught sight of his plump lip through the blur and without a second thought, you lunged forward and bit it, your teeth piercing the soft skin.

It was the closest thing you would get to feeling them, you knew it, and you weren't about to beg for a taste.

A slap landed on your cheek, sharp and stinging, but he kept his hand there on the side of your face, cupping it in an almost endearing way.

Joel hissed at the taste of blood—surprised but not disgusted. The hand cupping your face in the sweetest way turned to force your mouth open, and you grinned bitterly when he spat on your tongue, tasting his blood.

His thrusts became more frantic, the pad of his thumb sloppily skipping over your clit as he draws your pleasure out. Forcing you to look into his eyes while you come around his cock, Joel's too far gone watching you to notice the way his balls tightened.

"Fuck—"

Slick with your juices Joel slips out of your clenching pussy, jerking his cock a few pumps as he hisses, strings of milky sperm decorating your abdomen.

Your heavy breaths hang in the room like thick syrup, bodies sticky, tension at a maximum as the lust turns back to hatred.

Joel moves from you with a grunt, a sly smirk on his lip as he moves his gaze from the mess on your stomach to your eyes. He leaves you to clean yourself up and tucks his softening cock into his pants, the zipper resounding comically loud through the silence. It reminds you of a secret between children, zipping your lips close as a solemn pledge.

It was over and it would never be brought up again. As you did your best to clean up, get back into your clothes, and comb your fingers through your hair, your eyes were trained on Joel's back—if eyes could kill and all that.

At once, you were back to hating one another. You hoped your nails had dug deep enough into his shoulder, hard enough to leave scars.

#theplumsoldier #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller tlou #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #the last of us #partner!joel miller

[tightjeansjavi]

𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐃𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐨 𝐌𝐫.𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫?

Joel Miller x f!reader

NSFW🔞

A/N: this is a result of my post gym ✨horny✨ thoughts. I love to think that Joel can be a whimpering mess, every now and then. You’re welcome ♡ ♡ ♡

Summary: You get jealous seeing the women in Jackson throw themselves at Joel. You decide to give him a gentle reminder of who he belongs to.

~word count : 4.3k~

Warnings: smut with no plot, established relationship, sub! joel, feral/dark! joel, soft! joel,needy! joel, possessive joel! is going to tear you apart! joel, dom/brat reader, unprotected p in v (wrap it kids) oral receiving (male) fingering, light choking, knife play, teasing, edging, light bdsm, consent, consent, consent, nicknames, praise kink, cockwarming, cream pie, cum eating, cum play, uhhh yeah a whole lot of filth! Not much else to say! (+18) MINORS DNI SERIOUSLY THIS IS STRAIGHT UP PORN.

Songs used:

“Freak” by Doja Cat (just trust me on this one y’all)

“Tear You Apart” by She Wants Revenge

“…Ready For It?” By Taylor Swift

“No Good” by KALEO

“Dinner and Diatribes” by Hozier

You never considered yourself to be a naturally jealous person. You had no reason to be. The people of Jackson knew well enough that you were Joel’s lady, and he was your man. You never had to worry about getting hit on at the Jackson bar, or while on patrol, because no one dared to even look at what belonged to Joel. The women of Jackson? They were a little more ballsy than you thought.

You knew your man was handsome. Hell, he was fucking beautiful in your eyes. You’d see some of the single women, and even some of the happily taken women, fawn over your man.

Could you really blame them? He was definitely a sight for sore eyes. You’d watch them touch his arm, laugh at something he’d say and that’s when your jealousy began to bubble deep in your gut.

Didn’t these women know Joel belonged to you? Did he remember who he belonged to? Perhaps you needed to give him a gentle reminder.

Your man had arrived home late one night after being on patrol. You could hear his heavy boots from where you stood in the kitchen, you heard him mutter under his breath about his bad back as he hung his rifle up alongside yours. Joel was currently looking forward to a well deserved, hot shower and a good cuddle with you, his lady. He knew however that something was off because you never would leave the lights off. You kept them on usually on the nights you knew he would be getting home late.

He called out your name.

“Baby? You down here? Where are you, my sweet girl?”

He heard your soft footsteps padding from the kitchen and then your face appeared soon after. He wasted no time to grab you by the waist and pull you flush against his chest. “Hi honey, I was just waiting up for you.” You softly spoke while draping your arms around his neck. “How was it out there?”

“Mmm. Hi Sugar. Why were all the lights off? You usually keep ‘em on for me. S’alright out there. Long fuckin’ shift, and all I could think about was comin’ home to you darlin’.”

You gave him a sweet kiss, gently playing with the ends of his hair through your fingers. “Yeah, baby? I’m sorry it was a long shift. Are you tired? Here, how about you sit down? You’ve been on your feet all day.”

Joel kissed you back immediately while he tightened his grip around your waist, pulling you in as close as he physically could. “S’alright. Feet and back are fuckin’ killin’ me though, sweet girl. Is Ellie home?”

You slowly pulled away from the kiss, sliding your arms down from around his neck and brought your hands down his chest. “C’mon i’ll take care of you, okay? She’s at Dina’s. They’re watching a movie so we’ll have the place to ourselves all night.”

“You had me at we’re gonna have the place to ourselves all night darlin.’” a chuckle vibrated up his chest. “Did ya have somethin’ particular in mind baby?”

You unwrapped his arms from around your waist, grabbing his hands as you brought him into the dining room. “I knew you’d love the sound of that Joel. Go on, take a seat honey.”

He raised an eyebrow in your direction as he tried to gauge just exactly what it was that you were up to. When he took too long for your liking, you placed your hand on his chest and firmly coaxed him down into the chair.

“What’re—”

He was cut off when you had climbed into his lap, straddling his hips while you brought his arms behind the chair, holding his wrists together firmly.

“Shhh. You trust me, right baby? I just wanna take care of you. Treat you real well but first, I think you need a gentle reminder of who you belong to.”

Joel’s eyes had immediately widened when you ever so casually climbed into his lap. His own frustration began to bubble when you brought his arms around the back of the chair, preventing him from touching you. “Course I trust you honey. Whad’ya mean you need to remind me who I belong to? Baby, I belong to you. You and I both know that.”

“Do the Jackson women know that you belong to me? I see the way they fawn over you Joel. You think I don’t notice? They practically fall to their knees when you’re around.”

Joel chuckled, leaning his head back against the chair with a smirk on his lips. “Do I sense a bit of jealousy in ya? I see the way they act around me sugar. I don’t pay ‘em any attention. Don’t need to when I’ve got you. By far the prettiest girl in town. Can confidently say I am one fuckin’ lucky man.”

Joel was too focused on you in his lap to notice that you had pulled a strand of thick rope from your pocket. He barely felt you tie his wrists together behind the chair, till it was too late.

“Yeah, you are one fuckin’ lucky man, Miller and you better remember it.”

He let out a strained noise from his throat when he realized you had successfully tied him to the chair and his eyes narrowed in on you. “Fuckin’ minx. You really just go and tie me to the damn chair?” He let out a low growl.

You were the one smirking now as you leaned in close to his face, your lips nearly touching his. “I did baby, I told you I’m going to take care of you. Just trust me on this okay?” You spoke in a sickly sweet tone.

Your words traveled down his neck, past his thighs and settled beneath his jeans where his cock had twitched slightly. It didn’t take much to get your man going and you were pretty proud of that.

“So you tied me to the damn chair? You gonna punish me, sweet girl? You got it in you to do that to me baby?”

You brought your fingers around his throat, tipping his chin back slightly as you brushed your lips over his, taking his lower lip between your teeth, biting down on the soft flesh as you tugged it out. Your actions elicited a low groan from his chest.

“Oh, I think you and I both know I’ve got it in me baby. You gonna be a good boy for me, or are you gonna be difficult?”

You quite literally stole the air from this man’s lungs. All the blood was draining straight down to his cock. God, you were so filthy and he loved every second of it. “I’ll be a good boy for you darlin’, only if you promise to give me your worst.”

His pupils darkened as he looked up at you, desperately wishing he could fucking touch you as he pulled against his restraints on his wrists.

“I promise you I will, baby.” You cooed and his eyes nearly rolled back into his skull.

You dragged your fingertips along the thin skin of his throat as you leaned down over him, bringing your lips to the shell of his ear, kissing the skin right below. It was the spot that you knew drove him crazy. “You let me know if it’s too much and you wanna stop. Okay honey?”

He felt a shiver run down his spine from your lips along his neck. “I know darlin’. I got you, you got me.”

Your relationship with Joel had been built around trust, and consent. It was important to you both, and no matter what the situation was between you, consent was always at the forefront.

“Good boy.” You whispered against the shell of his ear as you reached into your pocket and pulled out a blindfold.

His jaw went slack as you tied the fabric around his head, covering his eyes from your view.

“You’re about to fuckin’ ruin me, aren’t you baby?” He rasped out, feeling his senses on overdrive now that he could no longer see you.

“Gonna do a lot more than just that, honey. You just sit back and relax. I got you.” You pressed another kiss to the spot below his ear before you slowly dragged your lips down his neck, nipping and biting at the thin skin as he hissed under his breath, turning his head to the side slightly so you would have better access.

You dragged your sinful tongue down the expanse of his throat, you could feel his pulse quicken as your fingers began to expertly undo the buttons on his flannel, exposing his skin to the warm air as you let your fingertips trace down his collarbones, brushing over his nipples as they descended down over his navel.

His stomach went taut under your soft, feather light touches. He had sucked in a harsh breath as his cock twitched in his jeans once more. “Baby, please. Don’t fuckin’ keep me on edge like this honey. Please, I’ll be a good boy, just like I promised.” Your man begged you.

You popped the button off his jeans and tugged the zipper down. Offering him a brief moment of relief as you tugged his jeans down over his broad thighs, listening to the fabric fall down his ankles, and settle above his boots.

His breath hitched in his throat when your fingers lightly brushed over his growing bulge in his boxers. He was so big, so thick, the fabric was straining and could barely hold him.

What you did next? Completely through your man for a loop. You had unsecured your knife from your holster, dragging the edge of the blade down his chest, over his navel. The coolness of the metal against his hot skin was a delicious combination.

He tugged on the restraints hard, the chair scraping on the old hardwood floor when the edge of your knife dragged across his covered bulge. Your man fucking whimpered.

“Darlin’, is that your knife baby? What’re you gonna do with that, huh?”

You kept the edge of your knife lightly pressed against his bulge. You could feel his thighs quiver beneath you, and his cock twitch once more as you leaned in, and whispered against his ear, “Who do you belong to, Mr. Miller?”

He let out a string of curses past his plush lips, stuttering over his words as he was already a whimpering mess beneath you and you had barely touched him. “Yours baby. I’m all fuckin’ yours. All yours.”

“Good boy.” You hummed as you removed the blade from his covered bulge, placing it down on the table before you wasted no time to free him from his constraints. Watching his cock spring up against his stomach. The tip was leaking with precum, all thanks to you and your filthy words. Your mouth was already salivating for a taste of him.

He could no longer feel the weight of your body on his lap. He heard the chair scrape slightly as you got down on your knees in front of him. He wanted to fucking see your pretty face, your irresistible eyes on him, but the fabric on his eyes, blinded him from experiencing that pleasure.

“Gonna have a taste of you now, okay baby? Dying to have one.”

“Fu—fuckin’ hell darlin’ you tryin’ to send me to an early grave talkin’ like that—“

He lost his voice the moment your pretty lips wrapped around his aching tip. You swirled your tongue against the veiny head, collecting his precum with ease.

You dragged your lips and tongue down his thick length, feeling him twitch again as he let his whimpers flow through his lips freely.

“You taste so sweet, honey. What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue baby?”

Joel growled frustratingly as he gave the restraints another good tug but they wouldn’t budge and he was completely at your mercy.

“That’s my fuckin’ line darlin’” he groaned.

“Yeah?” You hummed against his length, letting your fingers grasp his balls, giving them a little squeeze. “Well, now it’s mine. Deal with it.”

“You little—”

You had wrapped your lips back around his tip, slowly sliding your wet, hot mouth down over him, as you slowly began to bob your head at a delicious pace.

“F-f-fuck—darlin’ that pretty little mouth of yours is gonna be the death of me. Not gonna fuckin’ last long like this.” He groaned while bucking his hips up slightly, desperately wanting more.

You brought your free hand, that wasn’t playing with his balls, around his thick thigh. You sank your nails into his skin, dragging them downwards as he let out a hiss, digging the heels of his boots into the floor.

You could feel every ridge, every vein against your tongue as you continued to suck him off, your teeth lightly scraped against his length as his tip hit the back of your throat. You knew how to take him well, but there were still tears pricking in the corner of your eyes. You fucking loved having his cock shoved down your throat like this. You loved the way he whimpered out your name, just from your mouth and tongue wrapped around him.

“Fuck—fuck baby you gotta stop soon, please! Fuck. I’m seein’ stars right now. Takin’ my cock so fuckin’ well in that pretty little mouth. S’pretty, just for me.”

Your throat tightened around him slightly as you held him there for a few moments, nearly gagging around him before you slowly lifted your head up, releasing him from your mouth with a pop. You had saliva dripping down your chin that he would have absolutely loved to see, along with your pretty swollen lips.

He heard your own jeans start to be taken off as he listened to the fabric hit the floor with a soft thud as he anticipated your next move on him.

“Where’d you go, darlin’? Can’t feel ya anymore..you better not be fuckin’ leaving me down here tied up like this—”

You had sank back down into his lap, your covered, aching cunt brushing against his swollen tip as you let out a low hiss from the friction. “Mmm. I’m right here baby. I wouldn’t be that cruel to leave you tied up like this..don’t give me any ideas though, okay? Not finished with you yet.”

He let a whine slip past his throat when he could feel your cunt rub against him, as you rolled your hips into his slowly, eliciting another frustrated groan from him, and an eager moan from you.

You reached your hand up, untying the fabric from his eyes and tossed it to the side, his eyes were immediately locked on yours, his jaw clenched so tightly, he could cut something with how sharp it was.

“You gonna fuckin’ let me touch you baby? Or not yet? Gonna keep me on the edge? Fuckin filthy little whore you are. M’so fuckin lucky.” He whimpered.

You brought your fingers through the back of his hair, gripping it tightly as you yanked his head back, rolling your hips into his once more. “Do you think you deserve to fuck me right now, baby? You think you deserve to fill me up with your cock? C’mon, answer me.” You demanded

Joel’s jaw went slack at your words as he swallowed hard. You were something fucking else entirely and he was at a loss for words.

“I’ve been a good boy, haven’t I baby? C’mon, sweet girl. Let me fill you to the fuckin’ brim. Please. Please. Please. Want to feel your warmth around me so fuckin’ bad. Give into me darlin.’ Take me however you fuckin’ want.” He rasped.

He watched as your hand slid down between your bodies, pulling your panties to the side, revealing your slick pussy to his greedy eyes as you dragged your fingers through your arousal. Swirling your fingers against your clit as you kept your eyes locked on his. “Bet you wish you were touching me right now, huh baby? I’m so fuckin’ wet for you. Don’t you wish you could have a taste? Mmm, your fingers do a much better job than mine.” You purred, wasting no time to slip two of your fingers inside, pumping them slowly on his lap. “I’m so fucking tight, Joel. Don’t you wanna feel me baby? Feel how fucking tight I am for you.”

Joel frankly had enough with your teasing. He nearly had drool dripping down his chin as he watched you with hooded eyes. He watched your fingers, slick with your own arousal, disappear inside your tight cunt. The squelching sounds of your wet pussy had his eyes rolling back as he kicked the side of the table with his boot, frustratingly.

“Goddamn you. Fuckin’ filthy. Look at you fuckin’ yourself on my lap. Fuckin’ should be my fingers filling you up right now. You little minx. Do I have to fuckin’ beg you? Your pretty little pussy is fuckin’ purring for me baby. You gotta let me out of these things, please baby. I’ll do whatever you want. Just please fuckin’ let me touch you.”

“No.” You spoke sweetly, between moans. “Keep fucking watching me Joel. Keep watching me fuck my pretty little pussy.”

“You are so goddamn lucky that you tied a fuckin’ good knot. Gonna fuckin’ ruin you when I get out of these baby. Just you fuckin’ wait.” He growled. He was unable to tear his gaze from your fingers fucking yourself, even if he tried. He was absolutely intoxicated with you.

You slipped your fingers out of your mouth slowly, they were dripping in your arousal as you brought them up to your lips, licking them clean right before his very eyes as he kicked the side of the table once more.

Your man was absolutely feral.

You grabbed the base of his cock then, dragging his tip against your slick folds, his arousal and yours mixing together. When you finally, sank down onto him, he let out the most delicious fucking sound you had ever heard. The mix between a groan, and a whimper as you sank down to the hilt, bringing your arms around his neck. “Filling me up so good already, baby. See what happens when you’re a good boy? You get rewarded.”

His breath hitched in his throat when you rolled your hips into his. He could feel every inch of you slide around his cock, and just as you started to get into a rhythm, rising and falling over his thick length as your walls gripped around him deliciously, the rope around his wrists snapped, falling to the floor.

His hands were on you before you even had the chance to open your mouth. You were positively fucked.

“Now, it’s my fuckin’ turn.” He had immediately grabbed ahold of your hips, roughly pulling your chest flushed against his as he fucked into you, his balls slapping against your ass while his nails dug into your hips harshly. “You fuckin’ like that baby? You naughty fuckin’ girl. Hope you enjoyed your fuckin’ little game while it lasted baby.”

His lips were attacking every inch of your skin, between your neck, collarbones and breasts, he was absolutely ruining you with his mouth. nipping, biting, sucking on your tender flesh as he fucked into you, drinking in your moans around him as you let him finally have control, not that you had much of a choice. You knew it was only a matter of time before the restraints would snap.

He had grabbed you from your ass, lifting you up onto the dining room table, while still buried deep inside of you. He brought your legs over his shoulders as he fucked into you, with your back firmly planted against the table.

When you had reached down to touch yourself, he smacked your hand away, grabbing both of your wrists and slammed them down above your head, holding them down with one hand. “No.” He growled.“You don’t get to fuckin’ do all of that to me and then think that you can touch yourself, baby. You’re mine now. You fuckin’ got that? All. Fucking. Mine”

“Joel—fuck! Please baby, I was only having a little fun! Please, are you going to let me cum?” You whimpered, tugging your lower lip between your teeth as you looked up at him with those eyes that would send any man’s knees buckling.

Joel let out a deep chuckle, using his free hand to close in around your throat, his thumb pressing against your windpipe as he leaned down, bringing his forehead against yours, drinking in your moans as his lips crashed into yours, your teeth and tongues clashing together. It was a rough, heated kiss. One that was absolutely scrambling your brain. “You think you fuckin’ deserve to cum? You think you deserve that?” He mumbled into your lips, holding you completely captive beneath him.

Your breath was caught in your throat as his thumb squeezed along your windpipe slightly, just enough for you to feel it. The pain, mixing with the pleasure, you fucking loved it.

“Please, Joel! Please let me cum, baby! Don’t you want me to coat your cock? You gotta let me cum otherwise I can’t—”

He slammed his hips into yours, knocking your back against the table, stealing the air from your lungs. “What was that? Sorry, sugar. Can’t hear you above the sounds of my cock tearing your pretty little pussy apart.”

You let out a choked sob when his tip had hit the spongy spot inside of you that had you seeing stars. Your body was beginning to tremble beneath him and you nearly cried when you finally felt his thumb working your clit to the very edge.

He had released your wrists just so you could wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, and sink your nails into his skin, he knew how much you loved that.

“So fucking close, Joel! So close! Thank you baby, thank you!” You praised him.

Both of your bodies were slick with sweat as his thrusts began to grow uncoordinated and sloppy but despite this, he was still working his thumb over you, stumbling over his words as he groaned out your name.

“That’s it, my pretty fuckin’ filthy girl. Gonna cum around my cock? Gonna coat me? Wanna see you leaking out on the fuckin table when I’m through with you. Think you can handle that honey? Wanna see my fuckin’ cum drippin’ out of that pretty little pussy.”

It didn’t take long for either of you to hit your impending high. It crashed around you, sending white hot pleasure up from your core and through your whole body, Joel shuddered above you, as your pussy milked him of every last fucking drop. He kissed all over your face, praising you for being such a good girl as he gave one last deep thrust, before collapsing on top of you.

This is how it always ended. Joel buried deep inside of you while he grew soft, yours and his cum leaking out of you, while you would cradle him against your chest, running your fingers through his sweat soaked hair.

The post orgasm calm was your favorite part undeniably. You loved the lazy, sex stained grin your man would give you. God, he always looked so pretty after a proper fuck. He’d kiss you slow, deep, letting his tongue slip into your mouth while your fingers would gently scrape against his beard.

“I wanna see more of that in the future.” He mumbled into your lips, kissing you languidly.

“Yeah? You liked that?”

“Fuckin’ loved havin’ you take control like that baby. Do it whenever you want, kay?”

You let out a soft giggle, pulling away from the kiss to get some air as he let out a small whine, he wasn’t ready to stop kissing you just yet. So instead, he let his lips kiss all over your face, your cheeks, chin, nose, your eyelids. He couldn’t get enough of you.

“I will definitely be taking control more often, baby. I can promise you that.”

“Good.” He hummed, pressing one more kiss to your nose, lightly nibbling on it before he slowly slipped out from your warmth.

“We made quite the mess together honey. Dripping all down the fuckin’ table.” He chuckled, dragging his finger through your cum mixed with his, before he licked his finger clean, shooting you a wink.

You sat up slowly, your heart beat had returned to normal as you watched your man with a small grin as he collapsed back into the chair, kicking his boots off along with his jeans before he gathered the pile of clothes up into his arms to take them to the laundry room.

“I fuckin’ love you, you know that?”

“I know you do, Joel. I love you too.”

He leaned down over you, kissing you sweetly once more. He left to drop the clothes off in the laundry room before he grabbed a towel. He was always big on after care so you laid there, waiting for him.

He gently wiped between your thighs, and then the table before he was scooping you up into his arms. He helped you wrap your legs around his hips as he carried you upstairs, smiling to himself when he could feel your thighs tremble, all thanks to him.

One well deserved hot shower later, and you and your man were curled up in bed together. You were the big spoon tonight because you know how much he loves to be held by you.

You were his lady, his girl. He was your man. Your fellow, your guy.

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[punkshort]

i know who you are | 5. the dinner

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Everything seems perfect until it all unravels. Emotions come to a head and the big lie is revealed.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, pining, alcohol use, eating, flirting, sad!Joel, amnesia, slow burn, minor infidelity, one use of 'daddy', big ol' emotional argument (lots of mean and hurtful things get said)

WC: 9.5K

Series Masterlist

By some miracle, you didn't end up getting sick, although it took most people in town a full week to recover from the flu. The infirmary was packed every day and Nick regularly expressed his endless gratitude that you chose to work for him. Maria and Tommy isolated as best they could in their home out of fear their daughter would get sick. When the townspeople slowly began to recover, they were itching to do something, so they decided to host a dinner.

One thing you hadn't done in ages was bake. You used to do it often, something you found rather soothing and rewarding long before the world went to shit, so you decided to make something to bring to dinner. After exploring your pantry, you discovered you had the right ingredients to make a simple pie crust, so you got to work mixing and rolling out the dough, getting so lost in your thoughts that you didn't even hear Joel walk through the front door.

When he heard you working away in the kitchen, he walked softly towards the entryway and leaned against the frame to admire you. He crossed his arms and smiled to himself when he saw the bits of flour smeared across your cheeks and your hair a little disheveled, your appearance not a concern to you as you worked.

It was the sweetest thing he had seen in a long time. He almost felt bad when you suddenly sensed his presence and looked up, disrupting your flow.

"Don't mind me," he said with a smirk before strolling over to the table to sit. "Whatcha up to?"

"Making a pie," you told him as you pinched some flour between your fingers and scattered it over the counter. You picked up the sticky ball of dough and sprinkled that with a bit of flour, as well, before grabbing the rolling pin. "Thought it would be nice to bring something with us tonight."

Joel nodded and picked up an apple from the bowl on the table. "That's nice of you," he said before taking a bite, "I'm sure they don't expect us to bring anythin'. They're just bored outta their minds and lookin' for someone to play with their kid for a while."

"Hey! I need those!" you scolded when you heard the crunch. He paused his chewing and looked down at the apple in his hand before stretching his arm out to you with a grin.

"Here you go," he said, mouth full. You laughed and shook your head before focusing on the dough once again.

"Keep it," you said, "I'll still have enough."

He leaned back in his chair and watched you diligently roll the dough out until you achieved the level of thickness you desired and then laid it gently in a buttered pie pan.

"Can you help me peel?" you asked when you came over to grab the bowl from the table, and he couldn't resist reaching out to dust away the flour from your cheek. You looked at him in surprise and he gave you a small smile.

"'Course I'll help," he said, standing up to grab two knives from the drawer. After giving yourself a moment to recover from his unexpected touch, you joined him at the counter, placing the bowl between you both as you began to peel in a comfortable silence. It had been almost two weeks since you saw Ben outside the tailor, and although you always looked for him whenever you walked to and from work, you never crossed paths with him again. You had been hoping to corner him to try to get more information before confronting Joel, but you had no such luck. So, with a deep breath, you cleared your throat and focused on your apple before speaking.

"Joel?"

"Hm?" he replied, his brows pinching together as he carefully worked his knife around the apple in the palm of his hand.

"Can I ask you a question?" you asked as your pulse began to thrum faster in your throat.

"Sure," he said, still laser focused on his task.

"Who are the Fireflies?"

His hand slipped and he dropped the apple and knife, pulling the pad of his thumb into his mouth with a hiss. You gasped when you saw a few drops of dark red blood on the cutting board and put your knife down before grabbing a somewhat clean towel and handing it to him.

"Is it bad?" you asked, taking a step forward to try and see his injury before he wrapped it in the towel. He shook his head.

"Nah, I'll live," he said, studying the cut for a second before applying pressure again.

Still, you rushed to the linen closet to grab the first aid kit and brought it downstairs. "Rinse it under the water," you instructed him before opening the bag and rifling around. He did as he was told and watched you pluck out a bandage and a small bottle of antiseptic. "Show me," you said, and he held his hand out to you so you could examine the cut. He studied you up close while your attention was focused on his thumb, taking in every feature on your perfect face and inhaling your familiar, comforting scent while you bandaged him up. If this was what it took to get you close to him, then he was ready to injure himself every damn day.

"You're good at that," he murmured, flexing his thumb when you were all done. "Learnin' a lot from Nick?"

You packed up the first aid kit, avoiding his heated gaze. "Yeah, I guess so," you said, turning back to your apples. Ever since Joel caught the flu and you helped nurse him back to health, it felt like there was a shift in the air between you. He was more brazen with his touch, like when he wiped the flour from your cheek, and while you never asked him not to touch you, your feelings for him were complicated. Until you could figure it out, you had been trying your best to not allow yourself to get caught in his orbit.

It was proving to be more difficult than you expected.

"Why don't you go sit down, I can finish these up," you said, your eyes cast down on the apples. You felt him regard you silently for a moment before he pushed off the counter and went back to his spot at the kitchen table. It was obvious what he was doing. It was the exact opposite of what you were doing. He was trying to create a charged moment, and you were trying to avoid them.

"You didn't answer my question," you said, and his energy immediately shifted.

"Where'd you hear 'bout the Fireflies? From Ellie?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. You looked up at him, confused.

"Ellie? No," you replied, shaking your head. "I ran into Ben a few days after our visit. He thought you had already told me about them and seemed a little skittish when I didn't know who they were."

You watched him closely, refusing to look away as he tried to mask his anger, but you could still see it. His jaw tensed and his uninjured hand clenched into a fist in his lap while you waited for an answer.

"So?" you prodded, cocking your head to the side. His nostrils flared for a second before he took a deep breath and turned his head away.

"The Fireflies were the group the three of you had joined before comin' to Jackson," he began. You tried to focus on peeling your apples but you were working incredibly slow, not wanting to miss a single word. "You were with 'em for a couple years. They had a decent setup, kept you all safe. Better than the QZ."

"Okay," you said slowly, picking up another apple. "So it was a community like this one?"

He huffed and shook his head, "Not exactly. More like an army. They're a revolutionary group. They rose up against the military and took over QZs with the promise of givin' control back to the people, but..." he trailed off and scratched his beard. "Wasn't all that simple. They killed alotta people in the process, and in the end, civilians still suffered. Didn't end up matterin' who was in control when both sides were just as violent."

"Oh," you said softly, setting your knife down, "so I joined because of what happened to my family? Because the military killed them? And then I ended up killing innocent people, anyway?"

Joel shrugged and stood up. "Like I said, we all made decisions the best we could with what we knew at the time. You didn't know any better. Nobody did."

"Did you join them, too?" you asked.

"No," he said, pressing both palms flat against the counter as he looked at you.

"So why did Ben seem to think telling me about the Fireflies would cause a problem with us?"

His mouth pressed into a thin line and you saw the suppressed rage flicker across his eyes again. "Fireflies ain't exactly well received by most people," he said, "lotta people here had family that was hurt or killed. Innocent bystanders caught in the middle of a war they didn't start."

You swallowed nervously, apples long forgotten as you braced yourself for your next question. "Did the Fireflies hurt someone you loved?"

Joel's gaze dropped to his hands and he clenched his jaw. He wanted to tell you. He should have just fucking spit it out and told you everything, but at the last second, he chickened out.

"No."

And you may not have known him as well as you did before the accident, but you knew him well enough now to be able to tell when he was lying. You tried to hide your disappointment by picking your knife back up and getting to work.

"Are there others?" you asked him, and he lifted his head up, "other former Fireflies who live here?"

"Aside from you three? Just Tommy."

Your jaw dropped in surprise and your eyes snapped up to him once again. "Tommy?"

"Mhmm, just for a little while. You didn't know each other before Jackson," he said, anticipating your next question. "Fireflies are a big group. Spread out all over the country."

"Oh," you said softly, looking back down at your half peeled apples which were slowly becoming brown on the edges. You began peeling again, faster now, as you thought about everything he just said while he watched you carefully from the other side of the counter. You weren't sure what else to say. It felt like he was telling you the truth, but you still had a hunch he was leaving something out.

"Y'know, it's a miracle I didn't eat half that damn pie before we got here," Joel said teasingly as you walked up the porch steps to Tommy and Maria's house. "Whole house smells like Christmas now. Drove me crazy all afternoon."

You smiled and smoothed down the blue blouse you found tucked away in your closet. It wasn't a top you could envision yourself working in, it looked a bit too nice for that, so you thought dinner would be a perfect time to wear it, combined with a dark pair of jeans that were relatively clean and only slightly frayed on the bottom. At the time, you thought it was cute when Joel came downstairs with his hair slicked back and his flannel tucked into his jeans for once, but when you walked into Tommy and Maria's and found the house to be filled with four married couples from around town, you suddenly felt uncomfortable.

"I didn't realize anyone else would be here," you murmured quietly next to Joel as you slid off your coats.

"He mentioned they may invite a few others but I didn't think this many," he told you, taking your coat and hanging it up before looking around. They had two tables covered in linen pushed together in their dining room which was alight with candles and sprigs of pine and holly spread around the middle, giving the room with a warm and romantic atmosphere. You swallowed nervously and all of the sudden, the evening felt too much like a date.

"Hey, you two!" Tommy's voice rang out from the kitchen, startling you out of your reverie. "Glad you could make it," he said, tugging Joel into a hug before giving you a chaste peck on the cheek.

"Um, here," you said, holding out the pie, "didn't want to come empty handed," you explained with a little smile. Tommy's eyes lit up when he took the pan from you and gave the pie a quick sniff.

"Damn, smells good, Sugar," he told you, his cheeks already rosy from the liquor he had been working on before you arrived. He shot Joel a playful look as he headed into the kitchen, handing Maria the dessert. "Your girl can bake, Joel. Lucky man."

The tips of your ears went hot and you looked away uncomfortably before Joel could catch your eye.

"I'll get us a couple drinks," Joel said, ignoring Tommy's comment, much to your relief. "What'dya want?"

You glanced around the room and what the other women were drinking before shrugging and suggesting wine. He followed Tommy over to the living room where they kept their liquor locked up and away from their toddler, who was gleefully playing with another woman you didn't recognize. Popping your head into the kitchen, you spotted Maria all by herself working on dinner.

"Maria," you said with a smile, and she turned around with a sigh of relief.

"Hey, I'm dying here, can you help me?"

"Of course," you said, rolling up your sleeves. "What do you need?"

She put you to work right away, chopping up vegetables and dumping them into boiling water before helping her thicken a sauce she was making for some pasta. You were just about to taste test the product when Joel and Tommy joined you in the kitchen with the drink that he promised.

"Smells so fuckin' good in here," Tommy said loudly before taking a generous sip of whiskey and giving Maria a quick peck on the lips. Joel put your wine glass near you on the counter and you shot him a thankful smile before bringing a spoon up to your lips to taste the sauce. You winced and scrunched up your nose and Joel chuckled.

"It's missing something," you explained, putting the spoon back down as you examined the spices available to you while Maria was instructing Tommy on doling out the appetizers.

"Lemme try," he said, rounding the corner to stand next to you. You handed him the spoon and he held up his whiskey. "Hands are full," he told you teasingly, and you rolled your eyes with a grin before dipping the spoon back into the sauce and lifting it to his mouth. He leaned in and wrapped his lips around the spoon, closing his eyes and making a soft noise at the taste. Your knees suddenly felt weak and your face felt hot as you struggled to compose yourself before he caught you.

He opened his eyes slowly and ran his tongue over his upper lip to capture the remnants of the sauce and you had to resist the urge to swipe your thumb over his mustache to gather the rest. It made your breath hitch in your throat and you forced yourself to look away, mentally cursing your body's reaction to him.

"Lemon," he said huskily, then took a sip from his glass while still staring down at you. Your eyes drifted up to his and you saw that look again. The one that made you feel too many things at once: nervousness, excitement, pressure, confusion. So you took a deep breath and squeezed past him, having no choice but to brush up against his chest.

"You're right. It needs lemon," you said, finding one in the mess on Maria's counter and slicing it in half before squeezing it generously over the sauce. Joel leaned against the counter, one arm caging you in from behind as you worked. You tried to ignore how close he was but you could feel his breath on your skin and it was causing your pulse to race. Fortunately, Maria came to your rescue.

"How's it going?" she asked, and Joel pushed off the counter, stepping back to give you both some room.

"Good, I think the sauce is done," you told her, and after she gave it a little taste, her eyes lit up.

"So good!" she said, clearly pleased. You felt your cheeks heat up before gesturing towards Joel.

"Thank Joel. He thought of the lemon."

Maria shot Joel a smile and thanked him as he tipped his glass in her direction before taking another sip. "Happy to help, ladies," he said.

"Go enjoy the party, I got it from here," Maria told you, shooing you away.

"Are you sure? I really don't mind-"

"Yes, I'm sure! I'm just going to plate everything and we're good to go. Help yourself to some appetizers before they're all gone," she said, turning her back on you as she started pulling down serving platters.

You picked up your wine and took a sip, hoping to quell some of your nerves as you let Joel lead you into the living room where the party was in full swing. Tommy had his daughter balancing on his shoulders as he talked to a couple men, their wives at the other end of the room in the middle of a lively conversation. You chewed your lip, glancing back and forth before you took another sip and looked up at Joel.

"Guess I'll go see what's got them all worked up," you told him, nodding your head in the direction of the other women.

"You sure?" he asked with a frown. "Don't want you feelin' uncomfortable. We can stick together if y'want."

You shook your head and stepped away. "I'm fine," you told him before forcing yourself to join the other women. As you approached, you gave the women a friendly wave to catch their attention and they beckoned you towards them with open arms. They all seemed to be around your age range, give or take, and very friendly as they took the time to re-introduce themselves to you. You politely listened to them talk about their kids or jobs while you sipped your wine and nodded along. When three of the women became engrossed in a story about their children and school, you felt yourself begin to zone out. The girl standing next to you, Hannah, caught your eye and smiled.

"Do you have any kids?" you asked her, and she shook her head.

"Not yet. I don't think we're ready, you know?" she said, glancing over your shoulder at her husband. "But one day I think we will. How about you and Joel? What are your plans?" she asked, then her eyes went wide with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry. That was a dumb question, you probably don't... ah, I'm such an idiot," she said, and you laughed.

"No, you're not, it's fine," you assured her as her cheeks began to flush.

"I guess I just keep forgetting about your accident. That was so rude of me," she said, "I see you guys together all the time and it seems so normal."

You glanced over your shoulder at Joel, watching for a moment as he laughed heartily at something one of the other men said. "Yeah," you told her, turning back around, "I can see why you'd think that."

Her gaze drifted between you and Joel for a moment before she lowered her voice and took a step further away from the other women. "So you still don't remember anything, huh?"

You shook your head sadly. "Nothing. At this point, I'm not expecting anything to come back. I'm just trying to start over."

She nodded solemnly and took a sip from her wine. "How's it going with you two?" she asked, tilting her chin in Joel's direction. You sighed and rubbed your eyes. Same old questions, different person.

"Okay, I guess. He's been incredibly patient," you said, "but I think he is still holding out hope that my memory might come back and we'll just pick up right where we left off."

Hannah gave you a sympathetic look right as Maria approached with a big smile stretched across her face. "Dinner is served!" she announced to the room before bending down and stretching her arms out for her daughter.

Everyone began to scatter as couples rejoined and headed towards the dimly lit dining room. Joel appeared by your side, his hand hovering over your lower back as you waited for the other couples to take their seats.

"Havin' a good time?" he murmured, and you gave him a tight smile before nodding. Joel pulled out one of the two remaining chairs for you and you whispered your thanks when you sat down, then he pushed it back in before taking his own seat. He relaxed and stretched his arm across the back of your chair while he listened with amusement to Tommy drunkenly telling a story that had carried over from the living room.

"The table is beautiful, Maria," you told her, leaning away from Joel a bit. "It's so cozy and warm, you really outdid yourself."

She smiled as she bounced her little girl on her knee. "Thanks. We were just itching to do something, you know? We got a little cabin fever, I think."

You felt Joel's thumb brush lightly against your spine, making you shiver. But when you glanced over at him, he was still caught up in listening to Tommy and you wondered if those little gestures were intentional or if it was muscle memory.

Once everyone began to eat, Joel dropped his arm from your chair and you found yourself missing the warmth that radiated from him, confusing yourself even more. Sometimes you just wanted to hit your head against the wall and rattle your memories loose so you could stop feeling so conflicted. If you were this confused, you couldn't imagine what Joel was feeling. Although, at that moment, he seemed to be perfectly content as he stood up with Tommy to get another drink.

"Y'want any more?" Joel asked, nodding to your glass but you shook your head.

"Maybe later," you said, and when he caught your eye he gave you a quick wink before following Tommy back into the living room.

"So, how's it going at the infirmary? Still like it?" Maria asked, drawing your attention back to her.

"Yeah, I do, actually. That was a good idea, I've been meaning to thank you," you said, wiping the corners of your mouth with a napkin. "It feels good to stay busy and I'm learning a lot."

"Well, Nick always speaks so highly of you. Especially after that nasty flu worked its way through town. He said you were a godsend," Maria told you while simultaneously handing her daughter a steamed carrot.

"She was. Worked her tail off all week then had to deal with me when she got home," Joel said as he sat back down with a soft grunt. You smiled at him, grateful for the compliment.

"If he's anything like his brother when he's sick then I'm sure you've earned sainthood status," Maria said to you, making everyone laugh.

"Hey, what're you sayin' 'bout me down there?" Tommy slurred with a grin from the other end of the table. You were fairly certain Maria answered him with some sharp remark which made the table laugh again, but you couldn't exactly remember because Joel dropped his hand to rest on your knee and you suddenly couldn't think straight. Your skin felt hot under his touch, even through your jeans, and you could have sworn the whole room could hear how loudly your heart was pounding in your chest, so you anxiously grabbed your wine glass and finished the rest in one gulp, hoping it would steady your nerves.

You could have asked him to move his hand. You could have made an excuse, gotten up and used the bathroom, but you didn't. You remained perfectly still, allowing his hand to rest on your leg as you tried to focus on the conversation at the table. Because although your mind was saying one thing, your body was always reacting differently.

If you had known what would have ended up happening that night, you would have done something in that moment. Maybe if you had, it would have changed everything.

Instead, you sat there and didn't say a word. You just politely listened to everyone talk with Joel's hand still on your leg while your body and mind waged a war nobody could see.

When Maria stood to hand off her daughter to Tommy and clear the table, you joined her, finally ending Joel's grip on you. The other women stood while the men attempted to help but got shooed into the living room. When all the ladies were alone in the kitchen, Maria pulled out a jar of apple flavored moonshine that she told you all quietly she was hiding from Tommy because it was her favorite before passing it around for everyone to have a taste.

It was strong. Each of you had to stifle your coughs into your hands, which erupted into giggles and eventually caught the attention of the men, so you all did your best to distract them after they curiously poked their heads into the kitchen so Maria could hide the jar once again.

In retrospect, the alcohol didn't do you any favors. Your head was swimming a little by the time dessert was served and you found yourself inadvertently leaning into Joel's shoulder as everyone complimented your pie and he watched you adoringly while you waved off the praise.

The food was amazing, but combined with the drinks, you found your eyelids growing heavy as the party moved back into the living room and Maria took her daughter to bed.

"I think I'm going to get some air," you told Joel while everyone else got comfortable.

"You alright?" he asked, examining your face closely. You nodded.

"Just getting tired," you explained as you took a step towards the door, but he immediately put his glass down.

"Why didn't you say so? We can go home."

"No, it's okay-"

"You've been workin' so hard lately. You need your rest. Go get your things and I'll tell Tommy we're headin' out," he said, refusing to hear another word. And as much as you didn't want to tear him away from the party, you had to agree with him. The past couple weeks were physically draining and it definitely seemed like the exhaustion was catching up with you.

Once Joel announced your departure and everybody bid you good night, you each grabbed your coats and slid on your boots before heading outside. The brisk night air was a shock to the system and it helped wake you up a bit on the walk home. Joel wrapped his arm around your waist as you walked, holding you close to him, enveloping you with his warmth and when you inevitably reflected on that night, you would remember that moment as one on a long list of ways you were sending him mixed signals because you didn't pull away. Because as confused as you were about your feelings for him, you couldn't deny the attraction you harbored. And maybe it was partially your fault for not being stronger because you knew, you fucking knew Joel's feelings for you were far deeper than yours that night, and yet you still didn't step away.

When you arrived home and Joel fumbled clumsily with the door, you giggled, making him grin and his eyes light up at the sound before finally shoving the door open and flicking on a light. You shrugged off your coat and kicked off your boots with a sigh, the faint smell of apple pie still lingering in the air. You were happy to be in the comfort of your own home and eager to throw on your pajamas, but Joel led you into the kitchen first and poured you some water. You couldn't help but smile at how reminiscent it was from when he was sick and you did the same thing for him, so you took it and made sure to drink the whole thing while he watched with a pleased expression on his face.

"Did I tell you how beautiful you looked tonight?"

The glass was still pressed against your mouth, the last drops of water just swallowed, and you froze. Slowly, you lowered the glass to the counter and shook your head, unable to look away from his heated stare.

"Well, you did. Lit up the whole place. Prettier than all the other women," he said, fighting to remain still and not pull you into his arms. But he was losing that battle.

"Thank you," you said softly, forcing yourself to look away. It didn't deter him.

"I mean it. Couldn't stop thinkin' 'bout you. Talkin' 'bout you," he said, watching your face heat up as he blinked slowly. "Lookin' at you," he added after a quiet moment, and you laughed softly while you crossed your arms protectively over your chest.

"Joel..." you began, not even sure what you planned to say so you opted for staring blankly out the window just so you wouldn't have to look him in the eye.

"What, baby?" he murmured, taking a bold step forward and pinching your chin with his fingers. You dragged your gaze back up to him just to find his dark brown eyes all wide and filled with hope and tenderness as he stared down at you, his gaze flicking from your eyes to your lips, clearly displaying his intention but you still didn't step away. Your body wouldn't let you move.

"We're both drunk," you told him, trying to remain rational. Trying to stay clear-headed.

"Not that drunk," he quickly countered, his eyes still roaming your face, his fingers still pressing into your chin and you could feel your heart flutter wildly. Why on earth couldn't your mind catch up with your body?

You sighed, partially from the exhaustion, partially from the inability to properly express yourself but he took it to mean something else. He heard your sigh and thought you were finally giving in. That you were finally going to let him kiss you. Because why else wouldn't you have pulled away?

He leaned forward, his eyes slid shut, and although you should have known it was coming, it still surprised you. Your eyes stayed open wide as he inched towards you and finally at the very last second, you tilted your face to the side, causing him to press his lips against your cheek instead.

You felt his reaction before you could see it. His lips immediately tensed against your skin and his breathing stalled. Then his hand dropped from your chin and he leaned back, eyes no longer warm and inviting.

You tightly pressed your lips together in shame. "Joel, I'm sorry-"

"Don't be," he said quickly, cutting you off and backing away.

The hurt was evident across his face, although he tried to hide it by averting his gaze.

"I just don't think I'm there yet," you said after a long, tense moment. "I'm trying-"

"Yeah, I know," he replied harshly, turning on his heel and marching out of the kitchen. "I know you're tryin' to force yourself to love me. It's gotta be real hard, I get it," he spat, his voice so cold it made you shudder as he shoved his boots back on.

You choked back a sob as you watched him grab his coat.

"Where are you going?"

"Don't know," was all he said before flinging the door open and storming out, leaving you all alone in the entryway with tears slowly streaking down your cheeks.

What an absolute fucking idiot he was.

What was he thinking? That you would magically find him attractive again? Love him again? That he was worthy of your time and care and attention? After everything he did?

You didn't know, of course, but what else could it be, other than fate? Or karma? Or whatever it was, coming back and erasing all your memories of him to set things right? Because did he ever really deserve you in the first place?

No, definitely not. Not after everything he did.

His legs carried him blindly to the Tipsy Bison. It was a quiet night, and maybe had he been in the right frame of mind, he would have been surprised. Most of the town was cooped up the past couple weeks, under normal circumstances he would have thought it would be busier, but at that moment in time, he didn't care. He only cared about one thing: he needed to forget.

He motioned for Seth and he nodded in acknowledgment before pouring him his usual whiskey and setting it down. Joel snatched it up and immediately downed it with a wince before pushing the empty glass towards Seth.

"Another, please," he muttered before burying his face in his hands with a groan. Seth eyed him suspiciously before pouring his second drink and setting it back down on the bar.

Joel let the glass sit there a few minutes while he stewed in his anger. He wanted to blame you, but he couldn't. Not really. He knew it wasn't your fault but, fuck, he just wanted you back. He was so goddamn lonely that it made his chest hurt. He rubbed it absentmindedly before picking up his glass and forcing himself to take a slow sip. He had already drank too much at Tommy's and if he didn't want to wake up with a massive hangover, he had to slow down.

"Hey, cowboy," a familiar, flirty voice suddenly said from beside him. He tilted his head to the side and had to fight the urge to roll his eyes.

"Angie."

She smirked and pulled up a tall barstool, scooting her way up with a little grunt that made his stomach clench as he watched her maneuver in her tight jeans.

"What's got you so blue?" she purred as she took a sip from her drink and crossed her legs, her foot coming dangerously close to touching his calf.

"Who said I was blue?" he asked gruffly before taking another swig of whiskey.

She laughed softly and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Kind of hard to miss," she said, resting her chin in her palm as she looked at him expectantly.

His eyebrows furrowed at her but she noticed the way the corner of his mouth twitched and she bit her lip playfully.

"C'mon, what's the matter? You can tell me, baby," she cooed, and he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

"Don't call me that."

Angie pouted and leaned closer, her breath tickling his ear when she whispered, "Oh, that's right. How could I forget? You prefer daddy."

"Knock it off," he growled, turning away from her and ignoring the stirring below his waist, but it wouldn't be that easy. It never was.

She rested her delicate hand on his forearm and his muscles twitched, but he didn't move. As much as he hated to admit it, he missed being touched. And in that moment, any touch would do. She smiled and slid her hand up his arm slowly, and he let her, his eyes fixed somewhere in the opposite direction as he tried with all his might to ignore it, to fight it, to stand up and fucking leave, but he couldn't do it.

"So tense," she murmured in his ear, and his eyes fluttered shut. "I can help with that, y'know." Her hand dropped from his shoulder to his lap and had Joel's eyes been open, he would have seen Seth's eyes widen in surprise before looking away. "We're real good at it, remember?" she continued, her fingers inching towards the seam of his jeans. But before she could reach between his legs, his hand grabbed her wrist.

"Stop it," he said weakly, forcing his eyes open to glare at her, but she just smiled sweetly at him and pulled her hand back.

"I need to use the restroom," she said, her voice sultry. "You remember where the ladies' room is, right?" she asked with a wink before sliding off the stool and swinging her hips as she strolled down the hall towards the bathroom. He groaned and rubbed his face roughly.

He wasn't sure how it happened. He wanted to blame the whiskey, he wanted to blame you, but at the end of the day it was all on him when he found himself shoving open the door to the women's room and crowding Angie against the sink, his mouth crashing down on hers hungrily.

It was only one tiny minute of weakness. When he realized his mistake, when he remembered her lips weren't anything compared to yours, when her noises were not the noises he wanted to hear, her touch not the touch he craved, he immediately stopped kissing her, pulling back and cursing under his breath.

Angie looked at him, her eyes dark and her cheeks flushed, then took a step forward but he held up his hand.

"No," he said a bit too loudly, the whiskey making his head swim as he stumbled backwards towards the door. She rolled her eyes and grinned.

"C'mon, Joel. When are you going to realize she's not coming back? You need to move on," Angie said sweetly. Too sweetly. "You deserve to be happy," she added, and he frowned when the enormity of what he had done dawned on him through his drunken haze.

"Stay away from me," he warned her, reaching for the door and yanking it open.

"Fine. But just remember: you followed me in here!" she shouted after him as he disappeared down the hall. He snatched his coat from his barstool and jogged towards the exit.

He had to get home.

The carpet should have been worn to the floorboards by the time Joel finally came back. You had been pacing around the living room, chewing on your fingernails nervously as you replayed the entire evening in your head. The guilt was fucking suffocating you. You couldn't help but feel like you were partially to blame, but you would have broken his heart if you let him kiss you without fully understanding how you felt first, and he didn't deserve that. Maybe once he cooled down, he would understand.

When you heard his slow, heavy footsteps walking up the porch stairs, your heart leapt into your throat. The door creaked open slowly, as if he expected you to be asleep and he was trying to be quiet, but when he closed the door and saw you standing in the middle of the living room, your arms wrapped around yourself, his face contorted into a grimace.

"You're still up," he said, voice a little raspy as he hung up his coat.

"Joel, I'm so sorry," you began, "I'm just so confused. I'm still trying to work out my feelings but I don't want to rush into something and risk hurting you."

He swallowed and hung his head in shame, unable to look at you.

"Please don't apologize," he whispered, but you kept going.

"Of course I'm going to apologize. I sent you mixed signals and I ended up hurting you anyway."

"I did somethin'," he blurted out, and you froze mid-sentence, waiting for him to elaborate. Silence filled the room, your eyes drifted around aimlessly before you sunk down onto the edge of the couch and tucked your hands under your thighs.

"What did you do?" you asked, your voice wavering when you realized he still hadn't looked you in the eye.

He took a steadying breath and propped his hands on his hips, his face still angled shamefully towards the floor. "I kissed someone else."

His words hung heavy in the air, your deep, ragged breaths the only sound filling the room as your tired mind tried to make sense of what he just said.

"What?" you finally asked, voice deathly quiet. He forced himself to look at you now, his dark eyes brimming with tears.

"It was a mistake-" he began, voice thick with emotion, tongue heavy and clumsy between his teeth, but you stopped him.

"Just now?" you asked incredulously, your stomach turning sour. Fighting the nausea back down with a harsh swallow, you spoke again. "You tried to kiss me, I shot you down and you just... went out and found someone else?"

"That's not what I left to do, it just happened-"

"Who?" you asked, your gaze stony as you continued to stare at him, anguish and regret flickering across his face.

"Does it matter?" he tried weakly, softly, but it just pissed you off even more.

"Yes," you hissed, slowly standing back up on now shaky legs. "Who, Joel?"

His throat bobbed and he shifted his weight and when he mumbled Angie's name, you saw red.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" you whispered, quickly closing the gap between you and shoving him hard against the chest, causing him to stumble back in shock. When he looked you in the eyes, all glassy and cold and distraught, his blood felt like ice in his veins.

He was losing you.

"Please, lemme just explain-"

"What could you possibly have to say?!" you exclaimed, your body growing hot with rage. Hands shaking so badly you had to cross your arms to hide the tremor. "I was taking too long to fuck you so you went out and found a sure thing?"

"I didn't fuck her, but I could've!" he yelled back, an angry vein popping out of his neck at his sudden outburst. Your eyes went wide and you took a step back in surprise. He didn't know why he was yelling. He knew it wouldn't help, but he just snapped. "I never once pressured you to sleep with me! I gave you your space an-and respected your boundaries," he was flailing now, his thoughts scattered as he desperately tried to make sense. "But I'm a human fuckin' being and I got drunk and I was lonely and I made a fuckin' mistake! And I'm sorry, alright?!"

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. "You're lonely," you repeated, the words like poison on your tongue, and he frowned. "What about me? I'm lonely, too! You know what the first question is out of everyone's mouth ever since my accident?" you asked, glaring up at him, anger rolling off both your bodies. "They ask me how you're doing. You! Like this was some tragedy that only happened to you! But I lost fucking everything in the blink of an eye!" Tears began to burn the backs of your eyes now but you pushed on. "My world literally turned upside down in an instant and everyone just kept waiting for me to get with the program, including you!"

"That's not true," he said, shaking his head angrily, "I never pressured you to do anythin'!"

"It's the way you look at me!" you cried, wiping the tears from your cheeks. "You don't even realize you're doing it but you keep looking at me, expecting to find the woman you fell in love with but she's gone, Joel!"

You both fell silent, staring at one another, shoulders heaving as you each sat with the weight of your words.

"I don't care," he finally said, lowering his voice. "I still love you. I told you that first day. What we got is rare and special and I'm not givin' up on us."

"Then how could you go kiss someone else the first time there's a bump in the road?" you asked, tone hurt and dejected, then you turned and headed up the stairs.

"I told you, it was a mistake," he pleaded, following you. "I'm so sorry... wait, what're you doin'?" he asked when he realized he had followed you into your room. You were snatching clothes from the drawers and tossing them onto your bed, and that's when he really began to panic.

"I can't stay here," you said, disappearing into the bathroom. His vision narrowed and his legs became weak as fear flooded his veins.

"No," he whispered, but you didn't hear him. You were busy gathering a few toiletries from the bathroom and tossing them on the bed along with your clothes, but when you walked past him to get a bag, he grabbed your arm.

"Don't do this," he begged. You yanked your arm out of his grip and stepped back, glaring at him and he realized in that moment he would rather have you there screaming at him for the rest of the night than not have you there at all, so he kept talking. He kept pushing.

"Y'know, for someone who says she doesn't have feelin's for me, you sure seem to be pretty pissed off," he glowered, and your eyes widened. That's it, he thought, let me have it. "If you don't want me, if you don't give a shit 'bout me, then what the hell does it matter if someone else does?"

You gasped, his words like a punch to the gut. Like a blade to your heart. Without thinking, your arm swung back and your palm cracked loudly against his cheek, stunning you both into silence.

He wanted to rub the spot, to help soothe the pain with the tips of his fingers, but he resisted. Instead, he let his cheek redden so you were forced to see what you did.

"You think I don't give a shit about you?" you seethed once you found your voice, palm stinging at your side, eyes flickering between his eyes and his cheek.

"Sure seems that way," he countered, and your jaw clenched angrily as the next round of tears began to well up.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" you yelled, your hands balling into fists at your sides. "How dare you. You made me give a shit about you, you asshole!"

You shoved past him and headed down the hall to the spare room in search of a duffel bag, but Joel was hot on your trail. If he let you leave, he would never get you back.

"The hell does that even mean?"

You whipped around, making him stumble backwards, your eyes wild and bloodshot. "You told me you would make me fall in love with you again! This whole time we've been getting to know each other, building up our relationship and you think after all that, after everything we've shared, that I don't give a shit about you?"

"Well-" he began, but you cut him off.

"I took care of you when you were sick. I sat next to your bed for a full week, waiting for you to fall asleep, making sure you had everything you needed," you said, your voice growing quiet as hot tears spilled down your cheeks. "You told me about your daughter. I told you about my brother," you whimpered, your voice cracking on the last word. Joel's face fell when he finally realized how broken you were, the full weight of his actions realized. "How could you say that to me?" you sobbed, burying your face in your hands, your cheeks hot and wet in your palms. Your head ached. Your heart ached. You needed this to end.

"Oh, god, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it," he told you, stepping forward and pulling you into his arms. You only let yourself melt against his broad chest for a moment before you sniffled and pushed him away. Turning around, you snatched the bag from the ground and stormed past him.

"Tell me how to fix it," he pleaded as he followed you back into your room.

"You can't."

His head was pounding, throat scratchy and dry as he watched you pack from the doorway, his chest tightening with each article of clothing that passed through your hands.

"Please. Stay. I-I-I won't even talk to you if that's what you want, just please stay."

You paused, your eyes squeezing shut as you silently cried over your bag. "You want me to stay, Joel?" you asked, voice trembling, and even though weren't looking, he nodded.

"I'll do anythin'," he said earnestly, and you opened your eyes. Reaching for your journal, you flipped it open to a well worn page and tossed it on the bed. He frowned at it, confused, but stepped forward and picked it up.

"Then tell me what you lied about."

His eyes scanned the page, reading the four words over and over. Joel lied to me. No context, but he didn't need any. He knew.

You could see the conflict in his face as he tried to figure out a way around it.

"The truth. Or I'm gone," you said firmly, and when his eyes flicked up to yours, you saw fear.

He slowly turned around, the journal held delicately in his massive hands, as he sat down onto the edge of your mattress.

"Okay."

The shock made your tears slow to a stop.

"Okay?"

"Yeah, okay," he repeated, his tone somber as he stared down at your journal in his lap. "What's the difference now, anyway? You already hate me."

I don't hate you, you thought, but you remained silent.

"If I tell you, you promise not to leave?" he clarified, and you thought about it for a moment. What if it was something really bad? But you knew you wouldn't get the truth out of him any other way, so you nodded. You figured if you still left and ended up becoming a liar, then at least you would be even.

"I told you 'bout the Fireflies," he began, and you got the feeling the story was going to be long so you sat down on the bed.

"Yes."

"You, Ben 'n Lisa were all part of a group out in Salt Lake City," he said, his gaze pinned on the journal. "In a hospital. Doin' research."

"Research? I don't know anything about-"

"You weren't doin' the research. The three of you were just guards. Patrolmen. There were doctors there, and they were lookin' for a cure," he continued, then took a deep breath before lifting his chin and staring at a fixed point on your wall.

"Did they find one?" you asked, remembering that first day when Joel told you about the outbreak. You had asked him at the time if there was cure and he said no. That couldn't be the lie, could it?

"Well, they were close," he said, his brow pinching together. "This next part is somethin' that's gotta stay in this house, y'hear me?" he asked, finally turning to look at you. "Y'gotta promise me that no matter what you end up thinkin' of me, you can't tell anyone 'bout this part."

You didn't want to make that promise. Why would you, after everything he had put you through? But, still, you found yourself nodding slowly, then his next sentence knocked all the air from your lungs.

"Ellie's immune."

Your lips slowly parted as the shock coursed through you, your eyes slowly drifting down to the comforter. Your mind was blank except for Ellie's immune, Ellie's immune playing on a constant loop.

"It's why you didn't write anythin' else, I reckon," he explained, holding up your journal. "Didn't want anyone to find it."

You slowly began to put the pieces together. A research hospital. Ellie's immunity. They were close to a cure.

"The Fireflies thought they could use Ellie to create a vaccine," he said after a long pause. "And I took her to 'em. Took her right into the lion's den," he said with a dry chuckle. "Didn't realize til after they took her that they would've had to... kill her to get what they needed."

Your eyes darted up to meet his again as you listened, entranced.

"Nobody knows, okay?" he said, his voice wavering a bit. "Only Tommy. No one else can know. Her life depends on it, d'you understand?"

You nodded, still unable to find your voice, so he continued.

"When I realized what they were doin', that they would have to kill her, I just..." he trailed off and scratched his chin, looking away, eyes distant. "I lost it. It's the only way to describe it."

"W-what do you mean?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

"I killed alotta people," he said, voice cold and detatched, "alotta fuckin' people. Whoever got in my way, I just... didn't think twice. 'Til you."

You inhaled sharply, almost forgetting you were somewhere in that hospital.

"Me?" you squeaked.

"You didn't see my face," he said, his voice beginning to shake. "None of you did. The three of you were together. You surrendered. Had you face down on the ground with your hands behind your head. Told me you were plannin' on ditchin' the Fireflies anyway. That you wouldn't come after me." His hand trembled in his lap and he made a fist.

"You weren't the first ones to say that to me, but you were the first ones I let live."

You pressed your palms into your face, trying to quell the ache behind your eyes as you rocked gently back and forth on the bed, heart thundering in your chest, blooding pumping too fast. The exhaustion was too much. You could hardly make sense of what he was saying.

"You almost killed me," you said, more of a statement than a question, your voice muffled through your hands.

"Yeah." He watched you carefully, trying to read you, desperately searching for some small glimmer of hope underneath all your rage and confusion.

"Then what?" you forced yourself to ask, pinching the bridge of your nose.

He ticked his jaw to the side and looked away.

"Then... Ellie 'n me came here. Started over. Tried to forget," he sniffed, pulling at a loose string on his shirt. "Then the three of you showed up couple months later. Scared the fuckin' shit outta me, but none of you seemed to recognize me."

"Because we never saw you," you said, and he nodded.

"I didn't speak to you for over a month. I was so scared you'd recognize my voice or somethin', but I just couldn't stay away from you," he said, his eyes softening now. "Then that night at the bar happened. When you came up to me and-"

"Yeah, I remember what you told me," you replied, not eager to relive that story at the moment.

"Then the rest is history. We started messin' around. You didn't know who I was for a few months, then I finally told you."

"After you were already fucking me," you said coldly, and he winced.

"After I fell in love with you."

You sat back and rubbed your eyes. You had so many questions. What was your reaction when you first learned who he was? If you stuck around, you must have seen something in Joel that made you feel safe. Why did he spare you? Was it only because you couldn't identify him? And how much did Ellie know?

"Please say somethin'," he begged after a few tense, quiet minutes.

"What do you want me to say?" you asked him, your shoulders sagging forward, limbs too heavy. "You want me to forgive you? You want me to say I understand?" He shook his head but you kept talking.

"You spared my life just to break my heart."

He turned away from you as his face crumpled. "I'm gonna fix it," he said, his throat tight and voice thick as he fought off the tears that were threatening to spill down his face. "I'm gonna make it right, if you just-"

"Can you go, please?" you asked quietly, "I have nothing else to say and I'm fucking tired."

He looked over at you but you refused to look up, your puffy eyes fixed blankly on the floor. His gaze drifted to the bag and clothes littering your bed and he asked, "Are you stayin'?"

You didn't answer. You just slowly stood up and flung your comforter back, some of your clothes falling into a heap on the floor but you didn't care as you crawled into bed and turned your back to him.

Begrudgingly, he stood. His eyes flicked around your room nervously, his fingers fidgeting at his sides while he chewed on the inside of his cheek, struggling to come up with the right words to say.

"Go!" you sobbed from underneath your blankets, hiding from him the tears that were soaking your sheets.

So, he left. Not because he wanted to, but because he caused you enough agony for one night, and as much as he wanted to stay and beg on his knees for forgiveness, it would be the selfish thing to do. Instead, he went to his bed and stared at the ceiling, barely sleeping the entire night because his body jerked awake at every little creak the old house made, wondering when he woke up, if you would be gone for good.

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A/N: Yes, there will be a happy ending 😘

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FEED ME || Joel Miller x f!reader || 2,3k

Summary: Joel is hungry but not for dinner

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, pwp, food play, object insertion, m/f!oral, swearing, cum eating, Joel is a horny menace, fingering, a bit of degradation, Joel can pick up reader, reader wears a dress, has hair that can be pulled

A/n: hugs and smooches to @iamasaddie for the gif🌸

MASTERLIST

*****

“What are we making?”

You jump hearing Joel’s gruff voice right at your ear.

“Joel! I’m holding a knife!” you exclaim, pressing your free hand to your chest. Your heart is booming under your palm as you are silently cursing your sneaky husband.

He hugs you from behind, caging you against the counter, and you breathe out your tension, feeling his warm body pressed to your back.

“What are you cooking, baby?” His scruff is rubbing your shoulder as he’s pushing the fabric of your home dress out of his way and kisses the spot at the crease of your neck.

You smile already melting from this cute gesture but don’t turn around. You focus back on the task at hand - chopping a pepper.

“Salad,” you reply.

He hums and you feel his hands glide from your waist down to your sides. While you’re working the knife, trying not to cut your finger off, he bunches up the skirt of your dress and his warm palms grab your hips.

“Nah-ah,” you slither out of his embrace and step to the sink. “I’m hungry, Joel,” you say, feeling a pang of guilt for refusing him but nonetheless enjoying the way he glares at you under his brows, hands still braced on the counter. He looks so sexy like this.

“You can wait until after the dinner, right?”

You give him a sweet smile before turning on the water. You grab a cucumber out of a big bowl and start washing it. Joel’s intent stare is focused on you while your hands are gliding around the vegetable. You forget about your audience for a second doing a thorough job cleaning the cucumber until it squeaks under your palms. Suddenly Joel curses under his breath and storms out of the room.

You furrow your brows, confused by his behavior and hoping that you haven’t offended him. But Joel is caring and always attentive to your needs, even when he’s thinking with his perfect cock.

So you dry the cucumber and return to your chopping board.

Joel doesn’t sneak up on you this time but you still jump when you hear him shout, “DON’T! Don’t cut it!”

You freeze clutching the knife in your hand, but now it’s trembling with rage rather than with fear like before.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You shrill and turn around before throwing the knife on the counter.

Joel walks to one of the cupboards, opens it and after a few seconds of consideration takes something out.

Your eyes are wide and you hope the heat of your fiery glower can burn him. It seems that he feels it, judging by the way he inches towards you with a little apologetic smile, holding out a protein bar.

“Sorry for scaring you, baby,” he coos, stepping up to you, “Here. Have a snack.”

“I don’t want a fucking snack, Joel,” you grumble looking up at the man from behind your eyebrows, “From now on you’re banned from the kitchen when I’m cooking, you hear me?

“Yeah, yeah. But after today, ‘k?” He opens the protein bar and brings it to your lips. You don’t eat it, standing immovable in front of him, still throwing daggers at his handsome face.

“C’mon, sweetheart. I really want you.” He puts the bar on the counter and his hands start gently rubbing your arms, moving up and down. He pecks your cheek, the other one, plants a kiss on your nose and forehead. His moustache tickles you and you giggle trying to dodge the kisses he’s peppering all over your face.

With your palms on his broad chest, you give up and let him embrace you. He presses his hips to yours and you feel him hard against your mound.

You whimper, blaming your weak pussy for the way you crumble only after sensing the shape of his stiff cock.

Joel licks his lips and leans down to give you a heady kiss, passionate but soft. His hands are touching you everywhere - kneading your breasts, squeezing your ass cheeks, running through your hair and pulling on it lightly.

Soon you’re moaning into his mouth, soaking your panties, and buck your hips into his.

“Oh, what is it? Thought you were hungry, baby. Guess your slutty pussy wants to swallow my cock more, huh?”

You whine nuzzling his neck while a fire starts burning inside your core. Dinner be damned, you want to be filled with his cock.

“That’s what I thought,” he smirks, pushes the board and the knife to the side and lifts you, setting you on the counter.

In a second your panties are discarded on the floor and Joel is kneeling next to them.

He grabs your ankle and pushes your leg up, placing one foot on the counter. Your glistening pussy blooms for him and you bite your lip when cold air hits your heated folds.

Not waiting for an invitation, Joel latches onto your clit and you mewl with pleasure, eyes shut, hands pulling on his hair. His hot tongue is swirling eights against your bud while his thick fingers prod your wet hole before he pushes them in and starts pumping in and out. He curves them just right and you come undone, clit twitching against his tongue, pussy clenching on his digits.

Joel pulls them out and licks them clean while you’re panting, mind and vision hazy after a bright orgasm.

Joel gets up and while you’re reveling in the post orgasmic euphoria you don’t notice his hand sneaking behind you.

Something cold touches your leg and you open your eyes seeing Joel slide a tip of the cucumber up and down your inner thigh.

"Joel, what are you doing?" you giggle nervously trying to close your legs.

"Shh... l've got an idea," he says, holding your legs open for him with his big hands on your inner thighs. "All your fault, sweetheart. When you were washing it...Damn it. The way your hands glided over this thing. My dick loved it."

"Ehm,” is the only thing you can say. You're surprised and even more so when he takes out a condom out of his pocket. You haven't used one in a while with you being on the pill and him being the biggest fan of creampies.

"I can, right, baby?" He asks before opening the package with his teeth and pulling the condom out.

"Do you... what do you..?" You mumble trying to gather your thoughts after the recent orgasm and wrap your head around whatever his intention is.

Your jaw drops when you watch him put the condom on the long thick vegetable like it's some weird sex ed class and he says,

"Gonna fuck you with this cucumber, 'k?"

“But Joel…it’s big,” you mewl, eyeing the thing and trying to imagine it in your pussy.

“My cock is big, baby, and you take it so well. And I’ll get you ready, sweetheart, don’t worry.”

You look at the cucumber, then into Joel’s pleading eyes and feel your pussy get curious and start tingling again at the promise of something long and thick stuffed inside it.

You nod and Joel beams at you and takes you in his arms.

“Let’s get you to the bed.”

***

A few moments later you’re lying on your bed, completely naked, with a couple of pillows stuffed under your back, so you could see and control what’s about to happen to your pussy.

Joel’s sitting on his heels between your legs, spotting a giant tent in his boxers but he doesn’t do anything about it. His hand is gripping your knee, and he’s holding a bottle of lube in the other, warming it up. The cucumber is on the bed next to your hip, looking thicker and longer than Joel’s cock. And Joel’s cock is huge. You swallow loudly and Joel notices your tension.

“Breathe, baby,” Joel says, giving you a warm smile. “I’ll be careful,” he murmurs and you know he will. Something warm and fuzzy moves in your stomach and you whisper back, “I trust you.”

His eyes are blown with lust, lips glistening and you feel you can come just from an image of him being so thirsty for you.

His fingers trail from your knee to your pussy until he brings them to your clit and begins gently stroking it.

Joel puts the lube on the bed and slowly pushes three fingers into your hole, palm up. They move in and out easily but apparently it’s not enough.

“Play with your tits, sweetheart. C’mon,”

He doesn’t have to repeat it, in a second you’re kneading your breasts, twitching your hardened nipples and your pussy clenches as a new wave of arousal ripples through your body. You moan and rock your hips desperate for more stimulation.

“Joel, stick it in me already!”

He chuckles as his little finger joins the other three inside your pussy.

“Attagirl. Ready?”

You nod and open your thighs wider. Joel's digits leave your stretched hole and he gets the unconventional sex toy ready, squirting some lube on it and spreading it with his fingers. Caressing your bud with one hand, he brings the cucumber to your crying hole and nudges it with the tip.

You breathe in sharply feeling something cold and hard at the softest and warmest place of your body.

You whimper when he slides the firm vegetable between your folds and then starts slowly pushing it in your wet entrance. The stretch makes your muscles tense but Joel swirls your clit between his fingers and the dull pain subsides almost instantly.

“Tell me and I’ll stop,” he says, love and affection coating his voice.

Joel doesn’t tear his eyes from the sight of him feeding this huge cucumber to your pussy. He inserts a few inches of the stiff vegetable in and pulls it out almost to the end and then pushes it in again, deeper now.

He repeats these actions a few times and you whimper, clutching the sheets with your fingers as the cucumber’s bumps are deliciously massaging your walls.

“Damn it, baby, I wanna be this thing so fucking much right now,” Joel groans and grips your thigh harder.

“Yeah?” you breathe out, fluttering your eyes shut when you feel the tip rub against your soft spot.

You love when Joel's cock ruins your little cunt but you’re experiencing such an unusual novice sensation at this moment that you don’t want it to leave your pussy yet.

“Don’t stop, Joel. Please,” You plead as your cunt clenches around the vegetable.

“Fuck, look at it.”

His hand leaves the cucumber and when your walls contract, your cunt sucks it deeper on its own. You’re both mesmerized, eyes half lidded and hazy, mouths slightly opened, watching the cucumber stick out of your hungry hole.

“She’s swallowing it on her own. Greedy little pussy. You’re really enjoying it, huh?”

You nod eagerly and he smiles.

“That’s my girl.”

“Joel?” You call when he gets a hold of the cucumber again. “Come here. Give me your cock.”

You motion to the spot next to you on the bed.

“But don’t stop fucking me with it,” you hastily add, earning a chuckle from Joel.

“At this rate you won’t need me anymore,” he complains, pouting his lips but breathing into a grin.

“Never, I love the taste of your cock too much.”

Joel gently pulls the cucumber out of your pussy and gets closer to your face.

He stands on his knees and pulls his cock out. It’s painfully hard, bobbing over your face and dripping precum everywhere.

“Oh, Joel, give it.” You lick your lips and lift yourself on your elbows.

Your mouth reaches his fat head and you lick and suck it, drinking his salty precum. His desperate moan makes you feel slightly guilty for not offering to blow him earlier.

Joel leans down a little and starts fucking you with the cucumber again. You take his length deeper in your mouth and suck on his stiff cock caressing the underside with your tongue. His soft lower belly rubs against your forehead while he’s thrusting the vegetable in and out with faster strokes. You’re a complete mess, the mixture of lube and your slick sliding down to your asshole and soaking the bedding under you.

“Fuck…won’t last, sweetheart. Your mouth is killing me…damn, wish you could see your pussy, baby…you’re talking it so fucking well…my perfect girl.”

You gasp around his cock when he leans lower and takes your throbbing clit between his lips again. He’s sloppily licking your folds, sucking on your sensitive bud and you feel the warmth of your upcoming climax turn into scorching heat. He pushes the cucumber in and out once, twice and you explode, crying and whimpering, mouth full of his cock.

Apparently Joel was waiting just for that.

He finally erupts into your throat with a loud groan and you’re swallowing his warm cum as your back arches, pussy clumps on the stiffness inside you and fireworks burst in your mind.

You drink him to the last drop, and his mouth doesn’t leave your pussy either, he’s rubbing your clit with the flat of his tongue until you push him away, being overstimulated.

You part from his softening cock and plop your back on the bed catching your breath. Joel slowly pulls the cucumber out of your soaked hole and falls next to you panting heavily.

“Thank you for letting me do this, baby,” he coos before giving you a gentle kiss. Then he takes the glistening condom off, throws it on the bed and hands you the cucumber. “Here’s your dinner back,” he chuckles and you giggle with him.

“No way, Joel. First of all, we’re ordering in tonight and second,” you press the cucumber to your chest, making heart eyes at it, “I’m not eating him.”

“Him?”

“Yep. He’s living with us now,” you say trying to contain your laughter, “I’m gonna call him Dave.”

“Little slut,” Joel growls, pins you to the bed and shuts you up with a kiss.

*****

Thank you for reading!🌸

Comments and reblogs will make me very happy and help to spread my work!💖

Masterlist

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @missannfairy @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel miller tlou #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fan fiction #pedro pascal smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller the last of us

[toxicanonymity]

Joel Miller Masterlist - NSFW

And other Pedro characters

Version 4/5/24 (new: free use masterlist)

Blog FAQ (updated 4/15/24)

⚠️ I do not give permission for any of my work to be copied, reposted*, translated, made into bots, put into AI, etc. *reblogging is encouraged, using the 🔁 in the bottom right corner.

A reblog of this post will not stay up-to-date. Follow @toxicfics if you want notifs and @toxicrecs for fic recs. If you can't decide where to start, Buzzfeed quizzes are at the bottom 😅

18+ joel x f!reader unless otherwise noted. Darkness ratings (D - Darkish to Dark, DD - Extra Dark, DDD - ultra dark) are subjective and don't automatically mean it has dubcon (DC) or noncon (NC). The NC I write is physically enjoyed by reader. DC is often situations that diminish the ability to truly consent. Like drugs, captivity, or power imbalance, but in many DC fics, reader is willing or even enthusiastic.

🍒 innocent reader | 💤 somnophilia | 👴/🧔‍♂️ explicit age gap

MASTERLISTS - AUs, Collections, and Series

Night walks (AU) 👴 D, DC (drugs). hot, older pothead neighbor who talks dirty.

Raider Joel DD. NC (at first, via implicit threat), DC (stockholm syndrome). This is a big AU with lots of lore and interaction.

Silence can never be bought (dbf, AU)👴⭐ You catch him in a compromising position.

Left in Lincoln (dbf x virgin) 👴🍒 DD Your dads trust him to look in on you while they're gone.

Stepdad 🧔‍♂️D You catch him perving on your insta and start toying with him. You seduce him.

Slasher Joel DD DC - You're DTF but end up fcking for your life when you offend him.

Vampire Joel DC - he's been waiting for you for centuries and can't let you go once he finds you.

The Raid DC - Javi and Steve find you on a drug raid and take you under their wing, so to speak.

Speakeasy (Collection, no plot) - Exhibitionist one shots and drabbles.

Thighs out (bf's dad) - Your bf strays and his hot, slutty dad makes you feel better, much better.

Brotherly Sharing - Several pairs of miller bros. including uncle tommy & leopard print.

✨Free Use - D, DC, 💤 👫

for survival (2003)

For Survival (1.4k) - Joel, a stranger, saves your life, you fuck during evacuation.

For Survival 2 (1.4k) - fucking in your sleeping bag trying to be silent.

dark mode!Joel ULTRA dark - DDD, 👫

Dark mode (knife)You activate Joel's dark mode for your own enjoyment.

Clicking (horny! joel -> dark mode) He won't stop when a clicker appears. You try to punish him.

just the tip D, DC (power imbalance) 🧔‍♂️🍒

Just the tip 🍒 he coaxes you into full piv.

surveillance (imagine) he watches you.

Just the tip (really) you've been trying not to fuck him and this time it's really just the tip.

VIRGINS

Aches, thoughts, and needs 👴🍒 outbreak

Night Talks 🧔‍♂️🍒 D, DC best friend's dad

Patrol - pt. 1; virgin patrol 👴🍒 DD, DC

Virgin sex worker (v loss) D 🍒

Ready for her ( part of Miller Bros)

See also, Lincoln series and Just the Tip above.

⬇️ ONE SHOTS, miniseries, misc⬇️

Post-outbreak

you almost die then get used D, NC, 👫

Possessive cum play D, 👫

Secret breeder!Joel Refuses to pull out D, 👫

Jealous of you/Tess (degradation) D, DC mean

Bone broth (consensual noncon) 👫

non-con while you sleep D, NC 💤

movie night (in public) 👫 Under a blanket

Caught DDD very mean Joel, ✨At the table

Lazaretto (NC. sex pollen)👴, PART 2, DC

caught masturbating (300) D

the old fashioned way (1k) D He breeds you

Pre/Non-oubreak/AUs

pawn shop (GILF Joel) ��D

canopy, pt 2 (caught) ��🧔‍♂️ dbf in your old bed

Fucking Joel at your dad's house dbf

Breeding couple ; Pregnant , 👫

in the ass like a good girl anal drabble

Window (peeping tom) pt.2 date next door D

caught Drinking ( DDDNE) 🧔‍♂️DDD, NC sarah's friend is punished

sleeping Beauty 👴💤, 👫 CNC.

that's the spot (masseur!Joel)

gas station skeeze (300) 👴

packing: butcher!Joel DD, DC

personal trainer , part 2 D, DC

daddy Joel ��🧔‍♂️, a day in the filth

miniseries: jalbird - cellmate's nephew

dark nurse!Joel (sex pollen imagines)

✨locket - DC best friends dad x dark! reader

HCs, imagines, other

Free Use / Objectification HCs - you can put Joel in different modes for your enjoyment.

Your Dirty Little Mouth - talking dirty in Spanish in public to get Joel all riled up. Reader is not a native Spanish speaker.

Therapist (Dr. Rock), pt 2 D - meta (x writer)

Brothel Reality Show

Multi-Joel Art & Misc

Lmk if yours is missing, ✨section in progress✨

Joelkémon cards by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

JOELS AS CATS by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

Joel's as cats pt. 2 not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

Dick HCs - size, appearance, and more

random hot things from HBO canon

Joelkémon astrology by @wannab-urs

Mood board of joels by @milla-frenchy

joels as texts by @iamasaddie

Buzzfeed Quizzes

by @missannfairy & @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

Which Joel are you most compatible with?

Which Joel are you?

Which Joel to spend the holidays with?

Compatability: Valentine's Edition

Other pedro characters

Javi G. - Watch you watch him fuck his wife. Nick watches. You're Javi's wife.

Ezra - Sleep time: pt. one (250), two 💤(850) D You bait Ezra pt.3 Ezra strikes back. DC

Javi P.

hunt and peck (2.7k) 6/30

THE RAID ongoing series

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #toxicanonymity ☠️ #joel miller masterlist #pedro pascal masterlist

[tremendum]

Setting the Mood ; Mr. Miller vii

[not my gif] pairing: joel miller x fem!reader (afab, some use of she/her, use of the words girl/woman) rating: explicit. [18+. mdni] word count: 10k summary:  ❝Joel's warming up to you in the way that feral cats warm up to a box with blankets in winter - cautiously, with a rigid spine and many false alarms.❞ warnings: power outage, one mention of cobwebs lol, smut - oral (f!receiving), nipple play, teasing, overstimulation, anal fingering (brief sorry), face sitting, pussy slapping!!!, tit slapping (once), begging, choking (light), fingering, rough sex, praise, dacryphilia, degradation, threats of using sex toys, Joel is less mean than normal, pussy drunk Joel!, squirting, brief mentions of guns/canon typical trauma and violence. also fairly fluffy. emotionally constipated joel and reader <3 notes: thank u all for ur patience & here's the next part! and Joel is a MUNCHHH in this one lol. special thanks to the anon who recently sent me such kind words about this series, as well as the other anon who gave me the inspiration & all the suggestions for this fic!!! this one's for u guys <3 [this is part seven of the Mr. Miller series.] [masterlist]

[important - this is the last fic that will be using my taglist. moving on, I've made a notifs blog - @tremendumnotifs - for ppl to follow for notifications. tysm!!] ★  

"'s gettin' dark out there." Joel broods, eyebrow furrowed as he stares out the window into the dreary wink of evening, a dark gray clouding the sky as sheets of rain slam onto the pavement and pelt onto the gardens lining the block. "stormy." 

you can't help but quirk your brow as you take in his worried form, the way he peels back the curtains like a wartime wife awaiting a letter or a figure appearing in the driveway. you have to fight back a laugh, instead putting on a straight face as you lean towards him, capturing his gaze. 

"she's handled worse." is all you say, giving him a shrug - one that's met with a glare. "I know." he retorts, voice soured; a clench of a jaw before he turns back out, brooding, sighing, gritting his teeth. okay then. 

you shift yourself, plopping heavily onto the couch - you're still not used to being in this house, even in its simple glory. Joel's boots, muddy by the door, Ellie's drawings littering the walls like little trophies Joel silently boasts about - none of them have frames, though you decide in a better world, they probably would. empty mugs of half-drank coffee on the counter next to the sink, a discarded hand knife on the dining table. 

it's almost a complete mirror of your current house - with a tickling thrill, you'd realized this faintly the first time Joel'd thrown you onto the ground in his foyer months ago. he's since grown gentler with the way he handles you, at least, when he wants to. 

even now - his tolerance, vastly expansive compared to months ago when a breath in his direction would cause a snarl within a second. now, he even initiates conversations - not often, but enough for you to feel like, at some point, things did change with him. Joel's warming up to you in the way that feral cats warm up to a box with blankets in winter - cautiously, with a rigid spine and many false alarms. 

you don't particularly mind, either - Ellie and Dina have been helping you with the winter garden greenhouses a lot, and even Joel has stopped by on his way back from patrols to check in, lingering with glares or stares depending on his mood. he even came over to help you try and fix your porch steps leading to the backyard - free of charge, though you sent him home with some of the biscuits you'd made earlier that day. 

you still get on each other's nerves - snide remarks, passes at the other's intelligence or capability. Joel criticizes you nearly every chance he gets, but you've come to decide it's a defense mechanism and not entirely in his full control. you, similarly, tease him every moment you can for his dramatics, but suddenly clam up and scamper away at any semblance of feelings or emotion. he always lets you come back though, without any mention of it. 

"are you seriously worried about her?" you ask, sighing gently. you see the uptick in his brow when he looks at you, but you quickly follow up - "because we can go find her." you add, softer.

his jaw loosens slightly and he sighs heavy. "no, 's fine. I know she's at Dina's. just bein' dramatic." 

you shoot him a look with your brows raised - no shit, Joel - but the withering look he gives you shuts your trap before you can go and run your mouth.

so you let him relax in his own way - pacing in near silence for several minutes before he stops, makes an internal decision to pour you and him each a finger of some amber whisky, and then drains it all in one go. you opt to sip yours.

the wind is what has you in a disturbed state - it howls louder in the basin of this valley than it ever has before in your life; screaming down the streets, blowing through the rush of firs that line the outskirts of downtown. and now, it uses its immense force to slam weeping drops of precipitation into the gardens hard enough to form bits of cold hail - a threat which, had it not been twenty years into the end of humanity, would likely still put gardeners to their beds with a curse to Demeter. 

but now, circumstances are a bit more dire. losing crops, especially at this time of year, could be fatal. 

"y'done with that?" his voice pulls you from your thoughts, looking up to see him standing above where you perch on the couch, gesturing to the towel in your lap. you blink, nodding, "-oh. yes, I am, thanks." 

you use one last handful to scrunch up your wet hair, handing him the towel expectantly - but he stays rooted just in front of you, eyes staring unblinkingly at you. a sense of warmth floods through you, starting in your face and spreading over your chest and abdomen. his eyes are softer than they usually are; you lift a brow, his dark gaze unmoving. "something on my face, Miller?" you ask, lifting a brow. it's snappy - you don't necessarily intend it to be, but you can never tell with him. 

he blinks, grabbing the towel from your hands which he'd provided for you when you'd arrived, sending you a grave look. "don't you start with me." he snaps back, turning to walk off towards the laundry room. the room, you think with foolish butterflies, where your jacket hangs up with its orange, janky stitching over the right side to dry. in some ways, a mark of Joel Miller. you smile down to yourself, staring at the spot he'd just stood. 

you swallow your thoughts. you were here for a reason - not to get distracted, but to make a cake for Ellie. Joel had asked you a few days ago to help him bake a cake - for no apparent reason, you don't think her birthday is anytime soon - you'd agreed because, aside from the fact that there's little you wouldn't do for the girl, you haven't baked one in a long time and the lavender you'd grown last summer and dried is begging to be used in a cake batter.

"we need to get started soon!" you call out, shifting slightly to try and find his concealed body somewhere in the house. a faint call of his gruff voice responds to you, but you can barely hear through the onslaught of rain outside; suddenly, and with a careless flicker, the lights all shut off. 

the whirring of heating stops, too, until everything is dark and silent.

you stare with shock, blinking in the dark - the house is silhouetted by the darkening sky, plagued already by thunderclouds. fuck. 

"Joel?" you call out, rising on your feet to find him - you remember him mentioning in one of the first rounds of patrol with him - before anything, back when he really was just Tommy's brother - that he'd been some sort of handyman pre-apocalypse and so how the fuck has he just tripped the fusebox- 

you feel him before you see him, unfortunately. 

Joel, for all the time you've spent intimately knowing what his body feels like, shocks you every time by his sheer strength, the size of his shoulders and the broadness of his chest - especially when you slam into him in the dark. 

"fuck," you both chorus at the same time, you stumbling back and him likely rubbing his shoulder. you groan as you hit a thumbtack stuck in the wall with your head, rubbing the spot sorely in the dark. 

"the power's out." he states, irritation laced through his words. you roll your eyes, knowing it's unlikely he'll even see them in this light anyways.

"hadn't noticed."

your voice is flat and the silence that follows turns your face hot, taking a breath as you rock on your heels. "well I didn't do it." he states obviously, causing your brow to lift slightly until you look out to see through the muggy windows against the downpour that the whole block is out of power. damn weather. 

"found a flashlight." he clicks it on, the light faint and dying as he brushes a few cobwebs from his hand - you realize the flashlight must have been from before the outbreak, with the original owners. but then the light is illuminating in your face; your eyes squint and you bat it away from you with a hiss, glaring at the man in front of you. 

"what are you, a vampire?" he's holding in a laugh, you can hear it in his voice. you roll your eyes, "you tried to blind me, that was a perfectly acceptable reaction. besides, I'm sure the batteries in that thing are a second away from corroding. don't put that near me." 

he sighs, setting it beside him on some half-wall and you cross your arms. "suppose a guy like you probably doesn't have many candles, do you?" you ask, rocking on the balls of your feet - you really don't wish to spend the evening alone in your freezing house - nor in one that is completely dark. 

"do I seem like I'd have any candles?" he asks, equally as exasperated as you. you let out a frustrated groan, leaning against a wall and jumping when you poke your hip into a table you hadn't expected to be there. you ruminate for less than a second before perking up, gasping in a sharp way that has his hand finding your elbow in alarm.

you ignore the flip of your heart at the gesture, tilting your head instead. "I have some. at mine." you say, shifting on your feet. it looks borderline dangerous to go outside right now - as you look out, it must occur to Joel that he's still holding your elbow because he jerks as if to remove it, but instead slides his hand up to hold your shoulder. it makes your heart skip a beat and you scarcely move a muscle. 

Joel huffs a long-suffered sigh, before nodding. "let me get my boots." 

getting to your house was less of a disaster than it should have been; Joel had the foresight to stuff a change of clothing into a bag after a brief argument about him not owning any umbrellas ('you don't have a fucking umbrella?' 'well pardon me for not havin' a Wal-Mart to stock up at during a fucking apocalypse.') and had held the lid of a trash bin above your heads as you ran, avoiding as much pelting hail as possible, to your front porch. you knew he was irritated - with the weather, with the fact that Ellie wasn't home, maybe even that you didn't get to make the cake - enough so that he wouldn't even make eye contact with you as you fumbled, fingers frozen and wet, for your key.

to your embarrassment, it's too stuck in the keyhole and your door wouldn't budge. it'd grown sticky and misshapen after the heat and sudden cold of winter, the frame wholly unfit to keep a functioning front door on its hinges.  

"for god's sakes, give me them." he snapped, pushing into the frame and snatching the keychain from you, tinkering until he was able to slam into the doorframe with a grunt and burst it open.

"we needa fix that." he observes, ridding himself of his boots as you slink into the dark house after him, your face hot at his automatic assumption that he would help you fix your doorframe. he hadn't been particularly happy about fixing the steps for you, but he'd done it without being asked.  

once you're rid of your wet coat and boots, you grab Joel's arm in the cold, dark space of your entry way and start to lead the two of you rather quickly up to your bathroom.  "where the hell do you keep these things?" he grumbles until you've fumbles your way into the master bath, feeling around in the dark under the cabinets and avoiding stray screws sticking out near the drainpipes; it occurs to you that perhaps you should saw them off. maybe you could bribe Joel into doing it for you when he comes round to fix the doorframe. 

seconds later you spin, holding up thick candles triumphantly, smirking as you shove three of them into his surprised arms. the lighting in your house is interrupted by the flash of lightning, flickering brightness over the dark porcelain tiles. "good thing we like to share, right Miller?" you smirk, grabbing the rest of the candles, eyeing the Epsom salt in a mason jar in the fading light, mentally noting to use that next time you take a bath.

he grunts at your words and you grin, shrugging. "what's mine is yours, right?" you ask sweetly.

 he gives you a look as you make your way to the main bedroom to grope around for a lighter or matches - you can feel his irritation starting to wane away, slowly trickling like the beginning of a stream. "when did I ever say somethin' like that?" 

you shrug with one shoulder, sending him a dark grin, "well you sure must've thought it that night when you invited yourself in to my bathroom." 

it's quiet aside from the storm - your stomach broils in anticipation, heat and some kind of arousal tickling at your guts. there's nothing you love more than irritating him.

you tilt your head, desperately wanting to add more, but not in the particular mood to start a real fight. 

Joel, at your words, doesn't get mad - instead he just stares on at you, much too silent, brooding.

his eyes swirl seductively, as if reliving that night in his head. you sure are - his stare, the way his eyes had trailed over your body, the soap slipping over your pert tits and just begging him to join you. in your mind, you leave out the blood and the wound from your stomach, the yelling from Joel and... well, everything that happened after that. 

his eyes trail over your body, getting stuck on the curves of your hips and breasts, before meeting you again. when he opens his mouth, the words are not what you'd expected. 

"this is too many candles for one woman to have in her bathroom." he grunts, shooting you a stern look that seems nearly sinister in the dark moonlight. the rain pours relentlessly on the roof and onto the windows, streaks in the reflection sliding down his broad chest. 

bending over to reach the matchbook on your dresser, you toss him a little grin, "never said they were just for me. believe it or not, I tend to enjoy setting the mood." 

his brows raise, setting the candles on the surfaces around him - two on the nightstand, one on the bench at the foot of the bed. you light each of them gently.

"set the mood." his voice is flat, twinging slightly with a hard jealousy that nearly has you floating. 

"that's right." you nod, lighting the candles with a gentle smirk. he hums, crossing his arms as you cross to his side, lighting the candles and avoiding his eyes, suddenly very aware of the central piece of furniture in the room - your bed - and the lack of any chairs or couches. 

"did you bring a lotta men into this room t'set the mood?" he asks suddenly, sending a wave of arousal through you. you hide your smirk as you turn back to him, illuminated by the flicker of candlelight. the implication of his words - did you - like he knows that you're only sleeping with him now. that he likes it that way. 

you nod, "only the nice ones." your voice is nearly a purr; his eyes are dark pools, widening in the abyss of desire that threatens to swallow you both whole. his hands find purchase on your hips as you tilt your head. 

"Ian?" he counters - both of you know the answer - but you don't mind leaning in to that curling, angry monster of jealousy that hides itself as indifference.

"maybe." you retort, leaning closer to him, tilting your head to keep eye contact. "it's always so much better when it seems romantic. they're not as selfish. less rough-" you see his eyes flicker when your hand coming to trail over his broad chest. "let me cum as much as I want." 

of course, this was a fib. there were scarce numbers of people you let into your bed as is - even fewer who ever made you cum at all. Joel surely knows this - but his hands tighten around you all the same. "s'that right?" he asks, head tilting down to stare deep into you. you swallow, nodding with a grin. "it was much more civilized. and they weren't afraid to ask me to drinks or to come have dinner." 

his smirk drops and, for a moment, a pang of guilt hits you; you hadn't meant to bring that up, in fact the prospect of going on a date with Joel scares you more than most things in the world - but he moves on quite quick. 

"how many times?" he says instead, cutting off your spiraling thoughts. your confusion must show on your visage; Joel tilts his head, staring at you sternly, expectantly. "how many times did he make you cum?" 

you blink, trying your best to continue your little white lie, but instead, your voice shakes out, "th-three." you admit. the smirk that curls under his stubble sends a flicker of dread through your gut - he's seeing straight through you.

you've cum three times with only one man - he's standing right in front of you, and he certainly knows it.

but he likes to play the game. so he nods, "okay, baby. three. I can beat three." he says simply, thumbs starting to rub slow circles into the skin exposed above your waistband. your cheeks heat, "wh-what?" you ask dumbly, watching the twitch of a grin that flickers across his skin in the dewy glow of the candlelight. 

he shrugs, "been dreamin' about tasting that pretty little cunt all week." 

your eyes widen - a hot coil of arousal swirls in your core as you stare up at him, wishing you'd swigged that whisky that lies over at Joel's in the dark like he had, if only for the courage. 

because mutely, you've realized this is the first time anything has been initiated between you without an argument - and by Joel, nonetheless. he seems almost bashful when you look back at him.

"why'd you wait this long, then?" you ask, trying to sound coy but instead sounding very aroused, out of breath. 

he lifts a coy brow. "waitin' for you to set the mood, I guess." 

you stare at him for a moment.

his eyes flicker in some foreign kind of shyness, and then it occurs to you; you nearly burst out in laughter. "-was that a joke?" 

your heart skips a beat when Joel lets out a small smile.

it's warm, syrupy - full of light. you nearly forget why you're laughing. "maybe. don't matter." 

he seems so soft, so shy - as if embarrassed that he's admitting how bad he's wanted you all week. like you haven't been the same way.

but you can't seem to let it go - "a joke, from crabby old Mr. Miller?" 

but you knew it'd come, using his name like that.

his hand is strong when he grabs your jaw, gentle but stern, and fighting his own smile - the smile lines around his eyes glowing and beautiful. you wish you got to see them more. 

"doll, I thought we've talked about bein' respectful." he lifts a brow and you nod, swallowing your laughs quickly as his hand squeezes on your cheeks. "now, we've made it look real nice in here, haven't we?" 

you take a moment before realizing he's waiting for an answer - you stand taller, nodding, "yes, sir." you agree, fighting the growing heat within you. 

he nods, "'s right. so I'll treat you real nice, just like the boys you talk about." he sneers, weakening your knees. he moves you both slowly toward the mattress, tilting his head, "do you want that?" 

does he even have to ask?

"yes, please, I want it." you agree, the desire to have him between your thighs growing unbearable. "we need'ya to come three times. you're going to count for me, aren't you?" 

you wish more than anything you could defy such saccharine, sweet condescension from the man in front of you - but you've always been weak for him and his cruel mouth. you nod, staring up at his dark eyes, letting him push you onto the mattress gently. you faintly wish you'd taken the time to make your bead neatly this morning - but the thought is pulled from you as you note Joel's sudden hesitation. you tilt your head, about to ask if he's okay, when he abruptly speaks. 

"you're so fuckin' pretty, darlin'." he says suddenly, looking at you with that exact stare from earlier on his couch; your heart flips as you stare up at him, swallowing. his hands come to your shoulders, moving until he's standing flush against the edge of the mattress, your thighs spread open for him to caress your neck gently. your heart pounds at the stark honesty of his words. 

"beautiful." he whispers, feather-light touches over your neck, your chest shuddering and breaths short, staring in silence. "d'you know that?" 

he's being uncharacteristically soft, and an inkling in your mind wonders if it's all a show - never would Joel Miller willingly be kind in such a manner. so giving, so... loving. 

that panic that often finds you in the more tender moments flares up. you swallow thickly, "are you gonna get to it, or just stand there and stare at me?" you snap, the panic rising at his words. 

his slow movements upon you stop, his eyes meeting yours sharply. something changes in him, a shift that is foreign and also familiar; as if snapping out of some trance and back into his original state.

"I'll do whatever the hell I want to." he snaps, "and you're gonna take it because I'm choosing to be nice to you." his voice is unforgiving - the cold tone with which you're used to. where you're safe, unafraid of what lies beneath tender caresses or words. "you hear me?" 

you swallow down heat, a pool leaking into your panties - you're unsure if it's the way he was softly caressing you or the roughness of his words - probably both. "yes, Joel." 

he lifts a brow, correcting you. "sir." 

you swallow, nodding. "yes, sir." he leans over, kissing the crown of your head gently. "that's good. now I don't want to hear another fucking word out of you unless you're counting for me." he stares down out you, skin glowing under the scruff of his facial hair light up by the glow of the candles. he nods at your silence, a small smirk. "always liked you better when you're fucked so stupid you can't get a word out, anyways." 

you don't dare speak, but you shoot him a withering glare, one that has him chuckling. "y'always act like such a brat, but you always end up doing what I tell you, don't you?" 

you stare at him, your heartbeat in your throat, sat below him with your neck craned up. he raises his brows, hand coming to caress your jaw, "yeah, you do." he nods, "pussy can't get enough, huh?" 

he's speaking in rhetorical, but you still want to slap him across the cheek.

you press your thighs closer but any kind of relief is prevented by his own legs as he stands between them. he leans forward, then, one hand pushing your jaw back until you're forced to look up to the ceiling; his other, snaking around your hips to thumb at the hem of your top. 

his breath is hot as it hits your earlobe. "s'okay, I can't get enough of this pussy, either." he whispers, teeth nipping at your soft skin.

you sharply exhale as his hands tug on your top, releasing the looser buttons until it's held by only two of them, near your collarbones. he hums lowly, fingers rising to undo them himself. your skin is a wasteland of goosebumps, anxiously waiting for his touch. 

he groans when you let the top slide off of you, your bare chest glowing alight by the candles. his eyes swallow you whole, amiring every part of you; your face burns warm, even as his hand trails one light finger down, over the swell of your left breast and brushing against your perked nipple. 

"knew you weren't wearin' a bra." he grunts, his teeth scraping over your throat, "saw it the moment y'walked through my door. sat all pretty on my couch, teasin' me in this top." he growls, hands sliding over your shoulders to grope at your breasts. 

you let out a sudden sigh - you hadn't noticed the baited breath that'd been held in your lungs the moment Joel'd pushed you onto the bed - you feel about to burst with need, your eyes pleading up at him. "sounds like you were just lookin' for it." you snap, eyes narrowing as you grow unwilling to play such games with Joel. 

he wastes no precious moment; the smack is delivered light and playful to your right breast, stinging in pleasure as you gasp in a breath. his hand soothes over it even as he sneers in your face, leaning into your space, "did I tell you you could speak?" 

you glare defiantly, "I thought we'd established by now that you always let me get what I want. you might even want it more than I do." 

his hand finds its old home against your throat; holding you towards him, not restricting your airway but claiming you anyways. you feel another gush of arousal at the move, his eyes glaring into you. "oh, you'll get what you want, sweetheart." he says, voice holding no kindness, but an ominous amount of sincerity. "gonna be real nice to ya. all you're gonna do is sit here and look pretty. can you count to three?" he asks, voice rude. you glare back at him, "obviously." 

he smirks, "we'll see." 

and then he starts. 

you aren't sure what you expected, but Joel wasn't lying when he said he was going to treat you nice. caresses over your skin, growing clammier by the minute- his clothes, still on and still wet from the downpour, sticking to his broad shoulders and expanse of his chest. his lips pepper over your neck, your jawline, teasing the corners of your mouth and releasing a cacophony of butterflies before dipping back down to your chest. 

his hands are so large, gentle and intentional as they slide over the warmth of your skin. "pretty girl." he mutters, leaning so that one knee corners you, pushing you backwards until you're laying back on the mattress. you shutter a gasp as his thumbs and forefingers find your nipples, thumbing over them and sending currents of pleasure through you. 

your whimpers and soft gasps are swallowed up by the sound of the storm against the roof, the cold house warming up by the second. he watches with lidded eyelids as his fingers twist your nipple, eliciting a sharp gasp of pain from you, pleasure blossoming through your body. you squirm, but he soon grows impatient, standing back and grabbing onto your ankles, tugging you towards the edge of the bed. 

"keepin' all these slutty candles around, huh? how long you've been wanting to use these with me?" he asks gently, his fingers fumbling with your waistband. you help him, shoving them down your legs along with your panties, tossing them to his left. 

"the candles aren't the ones that are slutty." you gasp as he pulls you closer to his hips, lifting you slightly of the mattress. his hard cock, separated from your yearning cunt by his denim, presses deliciously into you. he actually laughs at this; a shake of his head and a flutter of his eyelashes. "y'got that right." 

he doesn't tease you like you'd expected - no, instead one finger circles your slit, gathering the sopping slick that leaks from you before gently sliding into your desperate heat. 

you mewl loudly, eyes scrunching shut in pleasure. his finger is thick, warm; curling slightly as he slowly thrusts it into you. he hums lowly, one hand lowering you to the mattress then sliding up your skin to palm at your tits - they're stained with a few lovebites, brazen and still lined with excess of Joel's spit. it makes you shiver in pleasure. "that's it, baby." he growls lowly, "tight, real tight for me." sweat lines your brow as a low coil grows in your abdomen. 

you nearly speak out of sheer habit several times, jolting when he hits your sweet spot repeatedly, hand flying to his hair and holding tight; he groans at that, deep and sweet. your eyes fall to his bulge and your hands move to palm him eagerly; he hisses in pleasure but the fingers not inside you catch your hands.

"not right now, sweetheart. not gon' be selfish, right? 's all about you." 

when he adds a second finger, you're already squirming, regretting your doubt that he'd tease you. he's excruciatingly slow, gentle - his hand slides up to hold you by the throat, pushing you against your mattress as he starts to curl his fingers, thrusting harder. 

you moan deeply as he finds your spot; your clit aches, neglected and throbbing, and your hand almost moves to relieve yourself before you second guess yourself and remain with your hands on his bicep.

you sigh, eyes rolling back as he fucks his fingers into you, wishing more than anything that his mouth was on you. or his cock in you.

his hand is a steady warmth against your throat and you know he can likely feel all the failed words and moans as they die out in your throat. he grins, fucking you steady with two fingers, "is there somethin' you wanna say, baby?" he asks, feigning genuine concern. 

you groan out in frustration, that hot simmer growing as pleasure streaks through you. you glare at him, surely an amusing sight with the tears of frustration in your eyes. he tuts, pouting lightly. "c'mon, you can say it." 

you swallow thickly at his permission, his hand peeling away from your throat momentarily to caress your jawline with his thumb. "use- use your mouth. please," you gasp, desperate as you move your hips against his fingers. he hums, "what, y'can't cum like this?" he asks, his fingers starting to pick up their pace. you grip his forearm and neck, gasping as your back arches from the mattress. 

his fingers drag over your slick channels, the noise of your pleasure echoing as you nod, face crumpling in ecstasy. "fuck," you whimper, tugging on the nape of his neck. 

he smiles, a dark thing in the dim light. "bet you can. let's see it, sweetheart." 

you groan as the pad of his thumb finds your swollen clit; explosions of light appear behind your eyelids as he adds a third finger, his thumb rubbing circles around your sensitive bud. 

his hand leaves your throat to press against your stomach; "y'feel that, darlin'?"

the pressure nearly pushes you over the edge, your thighs shaking as you grab for the bedsheets, hands leaving Joel in the shock of your nearing orgasm.

the noises echo in your ears as his pace picks up impressively; your knees shake as they start to close, your muscles seizing in pleasure. your whine is higher than normal as you squeeze around his fingers, white hot pleasure spreading. 

you cum with your head tossed back, legs closing tightly as one of his hands tries to pry them open, fingers fucking you through your high.

you pulse, riding your high with stuttered breaths, fingers twisted into the sheets as he pumps his own into you languidly. 

you remember wryly what Joel had asked of you, and you croak through a dry throat, "o-one."

you feel a huff of breath against your cheek before he hums. "that's good, baby." he murmurs, watching your cunt twitch, your arousal leaking out of you around his fingers.

you moan lowly as his fingers leave you, rising to his own lips to taste you; his eyes stay on yours as he palms himself lightly. you eagerly swallow, shifting your hips towards where he stands. yes, you need him in you-

he shakes his head at you as throws your legs away from him - you watch in shock as he starts to move. he pulls himself onto the mattress, laying upon your pillows, looking at you expectantly. "c'mere, baby." he mutters.

you blink at him, seeing his expression and slowly crawling to straddle him. your clit bumps against the denim of his crotch as you slowly rolls your hips over his, his straining cock delicious against you. 

his hands find your hips and force your movements to halt with a strong grip. you stare at him, feeling embarrassed and confused, unsure what he wants. 

he shoots you a look when you try to press yourself against him again, his fingers digging into your hips- "if y'think I'm fucking you tonight, you've clearly misunderstood."

your face must drain of blood as you stare at him, heartbeat pounding in your chest as you squirm. he moves down slightly, nodding upwards towards the top of your bedframe. "c'mere. and hold onto the edge if you can't handle it." 

with a shaky breath and butterflies in your chest, you let him guide you upwards, until you're hovering over his face. 

you let out a breath of desire, already throbbing in need; he stares up at you, "thought you needed my mouth on you?" he sneers. "play with your tits, baby, and ride my face." your fingers rise to your breasts, teasing your nipples gently as you whimper. 

"now." he growls, hands pulling your hips down onto his face.

you gasp in shock, forehead and hands hitting the wall behind the bedframe as you jolt to stare at him. his tongue drives a fat lick through your soaked cunt, tasting your spend as your hips buck. your clit brushes against his nose- fuck, his nose; strong and slanted, beautiful as you press against it once again. pleasure shoots through you, curling your toes as you press against him. 

all you can feel is Joel - your hands return to your breasts, if anything so that you have something to hold on to as ecstasy courses through you. his tongue circles your entrance lightly before sliding into you. you groan out, head falling back as you grind against his face; his groan reverberates in your cunt as a jolt of satisfaction causes your legs to weaken. "feels so good," you whimper, breathlessly; you don't even care that Joel told you not to speak, all you can think of is his tongue on you. the heat of your second crest starts to bubble over already; you let out a long moan. 

you feel one of his thick fingers slide over the globe of you ass, gathering your slick before prodding gently at the tight ring of muscle below your cunt.

you gasp in shock, desire flooding you as need spurs you on, "fuck- please, sir, yes." you gasp, hoping the honorific will inspire him to give you what you really want.

he does. his finger breaches your hole slowly as you keen forward, gripping onto the headboard. he moans into your pussy as gushes of pleasure gather from the sensation and you whimper lowly, the feeling of his nose against your clit mixing deliciously as he slides his finger deeper into your ass.

if there's a better thing than having Joel's mouth on your cunt, it's that he can't speak like this; you start to move your hips, riding over his nose and fucking back onto his digit as he groans lowly.

"fuck- fuck." you groan, legs quivering, threatening to give out. he hums, leaning to chase your pussy as you move up, starting to move his finger inside your tight channel, his eyes staring up at you; you lock eyes as you thumb a nipple and your eyes roll back at the wide-blown pupils that meet you. 

his hands, large and strong, pull you back against him, cementing you as he laps at your pussy, fucking his finger into you quicker and bringing you so close to your orgasm that you fall back slightly; your hand stabilizes yourself on his clothed chest; rolling your hips, the new angle sets your cunt into a wild frenzy of clenching, feeling incredibly close and chest stuttering as you near your high. 

his finger leaves you suddenly as he pulls you towards him again - you barely have time to whimper at the loss of feeling before his tongue is flicking over your clit again, sending streaks of hot pleasure through you.

he's delving into you once again, his nose rubbing against you, your hips sliding over his face and finally pushing you over the edge. 

your yelp of pleasure tails into a moan as you roll your hips, cumming on his face as you ride it out once again, legs shaking impossibly. you're muttering swears mixed in with his name as you ride out your second orgasm, shaking in desire.

"two," you whimper, sweat breaking on your forehead as one of his hands slides over your thigh, raking blunt nails over your skin. but he continues, your cunt sensitive as you jolt away from him as you catch your breath; you slide off of his chest to the mattress, your whole body tremoring with pleasure.

his face is flushed, chin glistening with your juices as he sits up, muttering, "don't you move." 

you stop your movements, staring with hot cheeks and a swollen cunt as he turns, hands finding one of your pillows. 

he leans forward to prop your head upon it; you gape at him in confusion, still pleased at the relief of strain in your neck but knowing you'll cum one more time before he's satisfied.

your body already yearns for it - you realize with a hot flash of arousal his intentions as he slinks backwards then, sliding to his knees. 

your legs, despite yourself, spread for him. he smirks, "look at you, sweetheart, so willing for me."

you bite your lip, "just make me cum again," you say breathlessly, finding your strength again. 

he raises his brows, "you sure you can handle it?" he asks, his palm sliding to cup your puffy cunt, the stimulation making you gasp. and then he slaps you, landing a harsh pressure on your clit that has you yelping, knees closing.

his other hand parts your legs, smacking you repeatedly until you yelp out, "yes!" 

he stops his ministrations, instead rubbing your mess of juices all around you, causing you to sigh a gentle moan. he presses a kiss to your inner knee as he hums. 

"I want eyes on me, sweetheart. can you do that?" 

your eyes flick down to him as he settles between your quivering legs with a grin. a gentle kiss above your mound that has your eyes fluttering. "yes," you say breathlessly. 

he rewards you with his lips against your cunt once again; it's immediately sending you over in stimulation, your legs tightening around his head before you gasp at the feeling, his tongue flattening over your swollen clit and plunging again into your entrance. 

it's not long - your body is buzzing with electric desire, throbbing and jolting every time Joel's hands spread your legs open wider; your ankles curl and press into his back as his tongue alternates between flicking your clit and stroking as far into you as he can.

he's groaning into you, using his fingers to spread you further open for him; eating you out like it's his favorite meal. you're not sure if you'll stay conscious after your next high - you feel it creeping towards you and you whimper to Joel, starting to feel too sensitive. 

"Joel- it's-" you whimper, pulling back and starting to crawl away on your hands, your legs tremoring with pleasure, moving up the mattress. he growls, hands grabbing you and pulling you back to him.

"not done with you yet." he murmurs, lips attaching back to your cunt. you buck your hips at the pleasure of overstimulation, hips moving away. 

his hand grabs your ass, pulling you once again towards him, "stop fuckin' squirming. thought you wanted to get to three." 

"I do," you whimper, gasping as his tongue traces around your pussy lips, tasting you and groaning into you. his face glistens with your juices and it's everything you can do to keep staring at him; he glares at you, "then don't complain." 

his tongue licks a stripe up you again, swirling and sucking on your clit, and within moments you're nearing your high.

then suddenly everything - your fingers twist painfully as your body goes rigid, hitting your orgasm with a scream, your legs shutting around him and muscles spasming.

"that's right, sweetheart, ride it out." he mutters into you as you shutter, unable to form words but babbling his name incessantly as you push yourself up the mattress, away from the stimulation again as pain and pleasure swirl around your body.

fuck, you almost- you felt something different about that last one. he pulls himself until he's leaning over you, "think you're forgetting somethin'." he teases, his hands running up until they palm your tits.

you groan, hands shaking as they push against the mattress, the warmth of his body delicious. your eyes are fluttered shut, "two." you realize your miscalculation as it leaves your mouth -"n-no-" your eyes widen at your slip-up and you shake your head, embarrassed; your mind too consumed by Joel to fully function.

you wish he would just fuck you - his cock is unbelievably hard straining against his jeans and you urge to take him in any way you can. you'd let him have anything. 

Joel sneers at you, amused by your flustered state. "d'they teach kids to count in these fuckin' FEDRA schools anymore?" he growls, slapping your pussy once more and making you yelp.

if you'd been paying more attention to his words, you'd have snarled that you learned how to count in public school, before the outbreak - and that he's a fucking idiot; you can't, however, as you're slapped on your sensitive clit once again.

fuck - a streak of euphoria through you at the jolt has your back arching. 

"shut up, Joel." you whimper, "can you just- please, can you fuck me?" you ask, brows knitting together. he sighs, pulling back to stare at you with a stern stare. "just a little bit?" you beg, a ravenous force spurring in your blood. you need him.

"god damn it." he snaps, "I'm bein' so good to you, and all you can do is bitch and moan about my cock. got you so fuckin' obsessed, don't I?"

you groan in frustration, half of your body screaming to let yourself rest and half of you searing with desire and frustration. his words fluster you; even more so as he leans forward, hand spreading you apart to roll his clothed hips against your bare ones gently.

you let out a mewl, hips jerking back at the directness of the denim on your clit, the sharp sensitivity hitching in your throat. you ache and clench around nothing, your cunt begging to be filled by him. "please, Joel. I'll do anything." you insist smally, eyes fluttering shut. his lips ghost over your hairline and then peck your cheek in a shocking show of kindness. 

"you can take it?" he murmurs against your lips. hope sparks in your heart and your bare ankles wrap around his his, pressing him against you, "yes, yes." you promise, nodding eagerly. he hums in thought.

"I'll fuck you with my fingers, then." 

you gasp, hips jolting when his fingers spread your sopping lips, his eyes intent on your face as he circles your entrance. the tip of a finger notches against you and you flutter around him; your hands grasp onto his forearm and shoulder, staring up with a gasp. you're aching - you need him, any of him. 

"Jesus, look at'you." he groans, muttering as his head dips to watch your pussy suck his fingers in with ease. he slowly pushes until he's knuckle-deep, groaning, "greedy little thing." 

but his eyes stare and he doesn't move; you take it upon yourself to rock your hips, gasping at the pleasure you find as you take him even deeper.

he looks desperate, with his eyes wide, curls wet, mussed, and peppered on his head. "baby, I've gotta taste you." he grunts, suddenly sliding back down to lay between your legs; you mewl in shock as his mouth attaches to your clit in moments.

his fingers, then, start to thrust. gentle, at first, but you're so stimulated you shake your head, "can't-I can't." you whimper.

he shakes his head, the action notching his nose once again against your clit and sending shots of euphoria through you. you feel numb and on fire, eyes rolling back.

"you can, and you will." he mutters into your pussy, tongue sliding across the sopping plane of you as his fingers pick up their pace; your thighs clench shut around his head and squeeze - you can't help it - and he moans a genuine sound of pleasure at the feeling. 

"you were so ready to when it was my cock. maybe I should use some of your toys you love tellin' strangers at bars about so much." he grunts, "make this little pussy cream even more."

your face burns as your eyes snap to him; a shiver of interest is soon overcome with the knowledge that you couldn't handle that; you glare at his words, anyways. that was one time, to him. when you were drunk. sure, not the best first impression, but- look where it got you. 

you shake your head as you writhe below him, his lips returning to your sensitive mound to suck harshly as his fingers start to pump harder into you. he decides for himself with a hum, pulling away slightly, "no, you taste too fuckin' good. gonna stay here all night." 

you believe him. 

he tears you apart, tongue lapping you up, twisting his fingers, curling them as he slides them into you; the noise of your cunt wetly taking Joel's fingers and mouth make your eyes roll back.

he's everywhere - your fingers twist once again into the bedsheets, your toes curling as all of your muscles tense. 

his fingers leave you suddenly, the feeling leaving you to suck a gasp into your lungs as he trails his hand over the valley of your breasts and into your mouth; you suck your juices off of his fingers eagerly, your mouth falling open in a yelp when he nips gently at your clit. 

you jerk away, knowing you're sharply close to your next orgasm, your body tremoring and tears forming in your eyes.

the overwhelming pleasure is building immensely and you squirm away from him with a gasp hands coming to cover your pussy as it spasms, aching and leaking arousal.

"J-Joel- I can't," you wail. 

he tuts, "c'mon, taste fuckin' amazing. love this little pussy." his arms snake around your hips, dragging you back and smacking your own hands away from your core. you sigh at the gentle swirl of his tongue through your swollen folds, hands carding into his hair and gripping tight. he mutters it quietly, "jus' one more, sweetheart, you can do it." 

you whimper, a tear streaming down your cheek and onto your neck, "I can't, it feels so good, I can't-" you whimper, a direct contradiction to the shaking quiver of your thighs as you roll your hips, savoring the feel of Joel's thick tongue against you. 

he hums lowly at your hip's movements and it makes you scream; the vibration and the nudge of his nose on your clit too much- 

it hits you all at once. 

you can't see anything; your hand flies to the sheets as one hand pushes Joel hard away, euphoria slamming into you harder than you ever have.

you feel the pads of his fingers, swirling over your clit as your hips buck wildly. you're sobbing, a state of bliss you've never felt before. your orgasm lasts much longer than you'd expected, euphoria rolling in waves that keep coming to shore.

when you come to, pussy still clenching in residual flutters, you have to suck in a deep breath.

through your tears, you see Joel's face; the bottom half is soaked in your juices, even the mattress is damp from your high - oh. you didn't know you could do that. 

he presses a kiss to your thigh - you jolt, whimpering lightly. he shushes you, hands finding your hips as you shake, trying to come down from that high. "four." he mutters, smirking as you groan, your head falling back. "fuck." you hiss, throat raw. 

"that wasn't so hard, was it sweetheart?" he snarks, still not moving from between your thighs, though you're sure they're dead weight on top of his shoulders. says him.

"fuck you, Joel-" but your words stop short and you gasp, hands flying as you feel Joel's tongue lick up the side of your cunt; "I can't Joel-" you sob, shaking your head, "'s too much."

you're so overstimulated you feel like you're floating -  but after your shock you realize he's avoiding the sensitive areas, gently swirling his tongue in your wetness. tasting you just for the sake of it. he just shushes you once again- "hey, hey," he soothes, hand petting your hip gently, "just tastin' it. gotta clean you up." you shouldn't, but you feel a hot flood of arousal just at his words. your hands relax in his hair as he slowly moves his mouth around you, avoiding your oversensitive clit mercifully. 

"you just rest. did real good, sweetheart. was so fuckin' sexy." you can't rest, though your body slumps and your eyes shut - his tongue runs lazy, thick circles around your pussy, gentle. you can tell - it's not for you, and maybe it never really was; Joel's loving it, and he's not planning on stopping anytime soon. 

and you stay like that - eyes closed, catching your breath and calming your tears, as Joel's hands run soothing shapes over your side and thighs, his mouth not leaving you for a second.

it was minutes, could have been almost an hour, and you slowly fell from your teetering edge of unraveling; instead, a slow burn was once again ignited in your stomach as Joel lapped away at you, eating you out gently and devotedly.

occasionally there was a groan or a moan from him, gentle - or a mutter into you about how good you tasted. you'd move your hips gently when something fluttered deliciously and you chased that feeling, thinking of all Joel's words tonight which have made you flush - and most of them praise. 

he's like a man starved. 

and by the time you start to climb that hill again, your muscles aching but pussy fluttering in desire, you're burning up. you cry again, gently.

he brings you to orgasm a fifth time with a moan into your pussy and your hand gripping his own for dear life.

he laps everything that spills from your weeping cunt as you let out a scream of his name, swallowed by the noise of the outside thunder. you shake and tremor, blissed beyond anything you've felt, tired and spent.

he holds himself to you and you have to twist, crawling away from the devilish mouth that calls your name, his hands gentle as he lets you go; finally having mercy on your destroyed body.

you feel like you're floating, unable to stop shaking. 

it's then that he chooses to strip down to his boxers; you watch him with shock as he does so, unsure if he's going to propose you take his cock now - you don't know if you could.

instead, he drops a kiss to your forehead. "I'll be back." 

he's in there long enough for you to deduce that he's decided to take care of himself on his own, in the shower - a decision that disappoints you but also seems very thoughtful. there's that flicker of selflessness you see sometimes in Joel - the things he tries to hide.

you hear the faucet running in the bathroom and when he comes back, there's a washcloth and a cup of water for you.

he doesn't wipe between your legs until you're done shaking - and after, you sit there, your hand curled around his bicep, while he soothes over a few strands of your hair.

"gonna need new candles." you mutter, nodding to where they all sit, dripped down to within an inch, wax splattered atop your table and over the side of the foot chest. 

"I'll get you a million candles 'f you let me taste you like that again." his chest rumbles as he speaks. a flicker of butterflies once again appear in your chest and you shrug, "I know I said I like when it isn't rough..." you trail off, face burning, "-but none of them ever did... any of that. and I really liked that." 

besides, you both knew the moment it left your mouth that your words weren't true - in honesty, Joel has done nothing but rough you up and you always crawl back for more. you wouldn't have it any other way.

he scoffs, "good thing you're mine now." he mutters, "taste like fuckin' heaven. could watch you squirm all day." he drops a kiss to your temple and your eyes bore down at your lap; his words hold a semblance of possessiveness - not unfamiliar to this thing that you have with him, but now much more meaningful to you. why is your heart fluttering so fast, a grin growing on your face? 

he clears his throat after a moment, shifting to sit up. in the process, your arm falls from his and you turn to look at him. 

"do you remember last time I was in here?" he asks suddenly and you have to snort. "was dying of infection, yes I remember." 

he sends you a look. "you were not dyin'. don't be dramatic." he counters, eyes narrowed.

you grin, rolling your eyes, "you were the one who was acting like it was such a big deal." you defend with a shake of your head. he sighs, "well I-" he stops short and it occurs to you that he's having trouble getting words out.

you look into his eyes gently, and he's searching yours. you're not sure what he's looking for. "shit," he mumbles, looking slightly lost - you've seen him like this, before - once. 

"I'm tryin' to be less...mean. when it counts." he says intently, looking at you. "y'know, after we talked, and I..." 

he trails off but you wait patiently for him to find his words.

he finds them eventually. "-well, that time I was here, when I helped you with your bandage..." he stutters his way through it and takes a deep breath. "I said something, that night." he starts again, running his hand over his face.

"you tend to say a lot of things when we're together." you supplement, your heartrate picking up. you're starting to feel your fight or flight kick in. 

he rolls his eyes. "yeah, well. I said... that you were probably hopin' I would want t'make you my girl." oh. yes, you remember that. "-and I said that it was pathetic you'd think that." he says, not looking at you.

you too look away; yes, he's said many cruel things to you - that one, in particular, has haunted you many nights after waking up from dreams of warmth and sunshine and Joel's hand in yours. 

"one of your best lines yet." you say, unsure what else to do. your gut twists in rejection at just the memory - then, it'd been in the heat of an argument and you'd just used it as kindling to fuel your fire, but it has since become a more prevalent proof every time you start to think too much about the what ifs. 

Joel isn't amused by your words. "I'm just saying, if you did ever want somethin' like that - not that you would, but...it wouldn't be pathetic." he finally finishes. "it was a stupid thing to say." he mumbles quickly, still looking away - through the dim glow of the dying candles, you can see the red on his cheeks. 

you feel hot, the implications of his words. he wouldn't mind if you wanted him to be yours. if you wanted to be his. your stomach flips.

grazing your hand over his back, you brush your lips to his shoulder. "you didn't mean it. we say a lot of things we don't mean. both of us." you answer softly, your lips caressing his bare shoulder. you feel the goosebumps under you across his skin at the touch and fight a small smile.

“remember when I tried to hit you?” you ask, thinking back to that disastrous dinner and the delicious aftermath on his foyer floor.

he smirks, finding the courage to look down at you. “think ‘bout it a lot.”

you hit his shoulder playfully, shaking your head with your own wry grin. of course he does.

he looks at you faintly, a hint of a smile flickering over his face. "we've been through a lot of shit together." he murmurs. he eyes the dresser across from you, lit up by a candle; you don't know how, but somehow he pinpoints exactly where you've hidden your gun, in your sock drawer. and he probably knows exactly why it's hidden.

"-don’t get me wrong, I like this thing we got goin’ for us, with the teasing and fighting - but I just want you to know I trust you. and I care about you." he says just as gently, his face flustered. your face heats at his words, a gust of affection blowing through you at his bashfulness.

you smile, leaning in to him; your hands snake around his neck as you gently pull his face to you. he finds more words, "sometimes you're a pain in my ass-" he raises a brow before you can snap back at him- "-but nothing you could do is... pathetic. 'specially not thinking something like that."

his eyes are large and hold none of the desire that they did thirty minutes ago; instead they hold something much deeper, more vulnerable. you don't feel scared by it.

you smile, "I trust you, Joel." his eyes stare into yours unafraid. "thank you. I care about you too."

and you're not ready to say everything else to him - no, not yet, even though your heart's known it for a while and so have you, somewhere in the back of your mind. 

you do want something like that. you want exactly that. 

"-and," he starts, "since this was your idea of something more civilized," he sends you a look through the corner of his eye; you know this isn't the worst of your sins committed with Joel, but you recognize his sentiment with a smirk, thinking back to your earlier words. you hide your growing smile as he adds:

"-maybe we could get drinks sometime." 

taglist closed - this is the last fic that will be using my taglist. moving on, I've made a notifs blog - @tremendumnotifs - for ppl to follow for notifications. tysm!!]

@elissaaa @satansgoatt @queerponcho @bbyanarchist @lapricot @umavvitch @asreadbyaj @dinsbaby @cottoncandytomu @silencesscreams @silkiers @switchbladedreamz @missannwinchester @abs-2020 @afandomidiot @cosm1c-babe @rogersbarnesxx @carleenphillips-blog @bonnibuckets @nightlovechild @jazzyspams @girlboybug @cannolighost @pastelnap  @userpedros @feministfanboi @buckyhoney @frogers @grhowls @daddy-din @gothoppered @notsosecretspy @okyeeaaahhhh @thirdoffive @totallynotastanacc @robbatlover @cutesyscreenname  @wannab-urs  @soooooyesbutactually-no @redhotkitchen @omlwhatamidoinghere @joelapologist2001 @leeeesahhh @bitchyikes   @bigboiseason123 @furseal1986 @mumma-moonchild @kamcrazy123 @pseudonymist @xyz32   @xlengueterax @suzmagine @sushiwriterhere @yourwinchesterbros @littlesuckyducky @worhols @hearthrooob @thatgingefromtheinternet @grhowls @letterstopedrito @those-late-night-feels @trashmuseum @holeforjoel @charismatic-writer @nervous-plant @sushiumex​  @undrthelights  @tarcinblue​ @fleursdecherise @alltheseperfectimperfections @whorror-s @thecasualnope @scarletthefierce

#let’s chat abt mr miller #joel miller smut #joel tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us (tv) #the last of us smut #joel the last of us #joel x reader smut #joel x reader #joel smut

[devilmademewriteit]

Ultraviolence

pairing: raider!joel miller x fem!afab!reader

summary: thank god—a handsome stranger saves you from the grips of a pack of cruel, cruel men. unfortunately, said stranger, joel miller, is cut from the exact same cloth as the rest of them.

warnings: oh. boy. rough sex/smut (fem penetration, fingering, cum play if you squint) so 18+ only content; fem!afab!reader; raider!joel; canon typical violence; mentions of hair pulling/reader having long hair; light dacryphilia; age gap; pet names (baby, darlin’, sweetheart, girl); slapping, spanking, choking; !!!NONCON!!! (sexual violence/assault, coercion, allusions to more sexual abuse—Dead Dove, Do Not Eat y’all, protect yourselves).

word count: 4k+

no use of y/n in this fic

alright y’all!!! here is the non-con raider!joel fic!! stay tuned for the version coming out soon wherein Joel actually rescues the reader LOL join the taglist to be notified when I post it!!! y’all’s requests will quite legit be the death of me BUT this was fun to write so im not mad. this version is just purely depraved & Joel ‘Big Dick’ Miller is a mean mean man. wrote it pretty fast too so b nice 2 me.

love u all, sorry for searing your eyeballs:)

-em<3

—

The stucco prickles and tears at the flushed skin of your cheek, a reminder that it’ll be winter soon. The birds are sure of it, and most of them managed to get away before the frost stood a chance of nipping them.

You didn’t.

After a few years of non-stop struggle, losing everything but your own life, you figured there were worse ways to go. At least you would be… well—you, in the end.

In whatever shape this man and his leering group of accomplices left you in.

“Against the wall,” and his voice had been the crack of a whip, snapping by your ear as electricity shot up and down your spine, as the tingling realization that the chase was over—the jig, up—settled into your bones. “Spread your fuckin’ legs.”

There were more hounds around… waiting.

Always waiting.

They’d already gotten to your old, tattered clothes. The brisk air bites at your exposed skin, but at least the cold would account for the violent shivers wracking your limbs. Even as the beast pins you to the side of the decrepit house, forces himself between your knees, your primary preoccupation is to stifle your fear.

They’d get everything else on display—but they would never get to see that.

When the screaming starts, those confused grunts, huffs, and squelches of a blade carving into flesh, you mostly commend your own imagination:

“I did it. I’m in my happy place. This will be quick, then.”

But then a rough, unfamiliar hand grabs hold of your naked waist, flipping you around, slamming your spine against the frosty stucco.

This is real.

And you bear witness to his carnage.

He painted the side of the house into a mosaic of inter-mingling blood, splattered like a Pollock against the grass, the wrinkled clothes and the rugged face of your salvation.

His eyes rake over your still-trembling body before he wrenches a red-coated knife—never breaking eye-contact—from the throat of the man you’d been at the mercy of just a few seconds ago.

Blood gushes up from the fatal wound, and you both watch the cruel scene, mesmerized. The attacker’s eyes dull, all evil dissipating from that once-ferocious gaze. The rescuer’s big, wide hands flip him over, stripping him of his stained beige jacket. Then, he carelessly kicks the lifeless form face-down onto the yellowing grass.

“Put it on.”

You uncross your arms, snatching the coat from the stranger’s extended hands. It doesn’t bother you, its belonging to him.

He’s dead; you get his coat.

A fair exchange.

He keeps an eye on you as he sorts through the pickings: a few strips of dried meat here, a loaded gun there (two bullets in the clip—you watch as he checks), and a few good blades, stashed inside pockets, bags, and down shirt-fronts.

The man straightens up.

Tall.

“Get in front of me,” his low baritone strikes you, causing your knees to concede to a slight wobble. “You run, you die. Got it?”

Texan.

Slowly, you nod, and a firm grip circles your wrist, tearing you from the wall.

“Walk.”

Your heart hammers—near deafening in your ears—as the stranger stalks behind you, directing your trembling movements with brusque, snapped commands.

Finally, the scattered orangey-red leaves begin to multiply, the domestic remnants of a past civilization thinning. The neighborhood opens into a field; large oaks and slouching willows shiver under the weak glare of the afternoon sun.

There’s a house up there. It seems to be in alright shape (some things are built tougher than others) and it’s certainly a step up from a few of the more… unsavory places the outbreak had led you to.

Nearing it, you take not of how much it resembles a barn-house. Red, pentagonal roof, and a big, wide, brown front door.

Gingerly stepping a foot on the cracked wood of the porch, you turn to face your rescuer, uncertainty tying slippery knots in your tummy.

Because there’s clamour coming from inside. There’s people in there.

The momentary hesitation allows you to get a good look at your rescuer: he’s greying and dark—mixed, likely, or just disposed to a stubborn tan—and probably in his mid forties. Probably handsome, too, if it weren’t for the resident cruel scowl deepening his apathetic expression, or the violence dancing in his eyes.

A raise of his eyebrows.

“I tell you to stop?” He nods towards the looming house. “Move.”

But… you don’t.

“Are you gonna kill me?” and you’re downright shocked by the strength—the resignation—of your tone, the way the question comes out so matter-of-fact.

That sparse mustache crinkles in the corners, teasing into something wicked. “You want me to?”

“No.”

“So get movin’, then.”

That left little room for debate.

So, you turn, fingers and knees shaking with anxious anticipation. He cuts in front of you at the last minute, shoving the front door open with his knife at his side—for you or for something else, you’re not entirely certain.

He pulls you into the foyer by your forearm; to your great dismay, you’re faced with an entire group of middle-aged men. Killers—for sure—leering at you with that same starved, animalistic look your rescuer had fixed you with.

Then, he tosses the bag on the floor.

“Found ‘em by the school. Decent haul.”

Their eyes tilt to your shuddering frame, dwarfed by the jacket weighing down your shoulders. One of them looks strangely familiar, proud features reminding you of something else you were afraid of. “No shit, huh,” he commends, “Nice work, Joel.”

Joel.

As the shaggy-haired man speaks, his voice strikes familial resemblance, and it dawns on you. Your rescuer’s brother, or at the very least a cousin.

And what he says is a clearly marked taunt. That much is clear. Uttered with the kind of cruel camaraderie which collected on the tongues of men who committed acts of violence together.

Who hunted together.

And it’s obvious you’re not being rescued. Just… reclaimed. Redistributed.

Fuck.

Another voice joins the mix. “How much you think y’could get for her?”

Joel’s profile turns, harsh, brutal lines forming as he assesses you. “Depends,” and then—ohmothermary—he smirks.

“Gonna have to test her out first.”

A few snickers.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

You’re trapped with nowhere to go, once again surrounded by a gaggle of soulless monsters. Fear grips you, but thankfully, it’s muted, now, having been mostly expended during the harrowing events of the morning.

Just an hour ago, pressed to the side of an abandoned house, you’d allowed yourself to give up.

So, it feels easy—natural—settling back into that rhythm.

To submit to your inevitable, violent fate.

Joel’s voice cuts through the clamour of your racing thoughts. “Upstairs, the room with the open door. Go.”

Eyes glued to the floor, you put one foot in front of the other, your insides twisting and turning inside your core. Fuck, you can feel the pairs of eyes following you with every step you take. The stairs creak as your weight presses into them, squealing like wounded prey.

“N’ take that fuckin’ jacket off,” Joel calls after you, the echoes of his booming voice and the group’s degrading laughter chasing you all the way up into the room—the one with the open door.

And it’s nice, surprisingly. Dusty, admittedly, and clearly having belonged to someone else—a long, long time ago—but the bed is made, the window lets the light in, and the walls remind you of cinnamon.

No, this wouldn’t be the worst prison. Or the worst place to die. It’s a sure-fire step up from the gutter between two dilapidated houses.

You keep the jacket on, shivering under its weight. Even as you hear footsteps climbing the stairs, even as the more rational, civilized side of your mind urges you to accede to your (non)rescuer’s every command.

The conversation downstairs dies off just as Joel rounds the corner, appearing in the doorway—a giant. Though your stomach lurches, and though your legs feel like putty, you hold your ground.

“I’ll fight, you know,” you hiss, watching him seal off the entrance to the room behind him. His flannel has droplets of blood on the collar—reminders of your previous captor—would your other attacker have been a better option? Who’d be more merciful to your quivering body?

You charge your voice with every last modicum of strength at your disposal. “I’ll fight.”

He turns, smirking softly at your clenched fists. “S’good, sweetheart. I like a little fight.” He stalks towards you, swiping his thumb along the plushness of his bottom lip, his intimidating presence forcing your back to meet the flat hardness of the wall behind you.

So much for fighting.

There’s nothing living in his eyes as he says it—nothing save the roiling flames of hunger: “You see those guys downstairs?”

You glare up at him, trying not to notice the alluring hook of his nose, or the way your body works against you, responding to the earthy smell of him.

Then, you nod, wordlessly.

“Did you count ‘em?” He splays a hand beside your head, using one hand to pry your arms uncrossed.

Again, you nod. “How many?” He asks, his voice deceptively soft.

“Five.” Breathless.

“S’right, sweetheart. Ever had your lil’ holes stuffed by five guys at once?”

A swallow, and your voice cracks when you’re finally able to put it to use. “No.”

He pries your elbows to your sides, pulling the beige fabric open, revealing the torn remains of your underwear.

It’s almost a croon, feigned concern underpinning his low tone. “You wanna see what it’s like?” He drinks in the sight of your bare chest, almost groaning at the sight of your naked front.

It’s not cold anymore; no, suddenly you’re very hot.

“No, please, no.”

He slips the coat off of your shoulders, letting it fall in a heap to the ground. He assesses you once more: studying every square inch of your skin under his shadowed eyes.

“M’only gonna say this once, sweetheart.” All that fake-gentleness fades from his tone, replaced by the sadistic, authoritative timbre he’d first greeted you with. “I need you to be very careful.”

You’re frozen—all that fight, it drains out of you, captivated by the raider’s looming form, his mesmerizing speech.

“You’re alone, yeah?” A nod, which he acknowledges, trailing a hand up the length of your waist. “S’what I thought. N’ the way I found you today? That’s a best-case-scenario for a girl like you, out here on your own.”

He drags a finger up the centre of your breast, skilled fingertips just barely brushing the peaked nipple. You lean into his touch—the near imperceptible arch of your back doesn’t go unnoticed, and you kick yourself internally as the corners of his lips twitch up.

Still, the raider ignores your trembling.

“You’re mine, now,” he continues, egged on by your involuntary movement. “Means you’re gonna be a good girl n’ do as I say, n’ I’ll make sure I’m the only man who touches you.” His big hand drops to his heavy silver buckle, and the clearly defined, bulging lines underneath it have your heart clawing out of your chest. Joel senses your fear—and it only makes him harder. “I don’t like sharin’ what’s mine, y’know? But you try anything—you step outta line—I’ll throw you to my guys downstairs.”

His hand finds your throat, hunger and warning beating to the same rhythm in his gaze. “I have no problem watching.” He gives your larynx a squeeze, multitasking as he pulls the strap of his belt through the worn loops of his denim. “Understood?”

You have no words left, shaking from head to toe as the reality of the situation finally settles in.

As he works the intimidating weight of his cock out of his jeans.

A huff. Joel flips you over, impatient, pressing your scraped up cheek to the cinnamon-brown of the wall.

Déjà vù.

Your knees are separated by his own, and his weight flattens you. He wastes no time: lining himself up, his tip separates your folds. Resistance is futile—with one hand, he holds your thighs open—even as they try to press themselves closed, even as you whimper at the rough, male knuckles pressed to bruise on the insides of your legs.

Leaving his mark.

It’s not an option to simply take it. Joel forces you to participate in the sinful act: “I asked you a fuckin’ question,” he growls, gripping your chin indelicately. “You understand me, girl?”

A swallow and a flinch as you feel the head of his cock poke at your entrance. “Yes. Okay. Yes.”

“Yes, Joel,” he corrects. “Use my name. You’re mine now. Use my fuckin’ name.”

Tears prick the corners of your eyes at the promised savagery in his tone. Holding back a sob, you respond: “Yes, Joel.”

You watch his hand, large and capable, splaying out a mere inch away from the tip of your nose. “Good,” he commends. “Z’are the only fuckin’ words you know, from now on.”

His free hand slaps against your hip, yanking you down onto his hard length. Your hips buck up against his abdomen, responding to the pull of his fingertips, even as you cry out at the sting, the stretch. The raider tries to force himself between your walls—muttering a grunted “shit”—and thrusting up against your ass.

But you’re too tight, too tense, and your stubborn body refuses to open up for him. Finally listening to you.

“Relax,” he orders, surprisingly softly. He moves his hand from your hip to the apex of your thighs, rubbing rough circles against your clit. Fuck, how’d he find it so fast? You gasp at the feel of his fingertips against your most sensitive, touch-starved spot, hating yourself for the way his pressure makes you feel.

Because…

Because—fuck.

It feels… good. The man knows exactly what he’s doing—methodical in his ministrations, prepping you only enough to ensure his own eventual pleasure. “S’too tight, baby,” he breathes against your neck, “Need to loosen up for me, yeah?”

He’s not gentle. No part of it is gentle. Nonetheless, pleasure ripples through your centre and down your thighs as he effectively turns you on.

“Thaaaaaa’s right,” and his voice is mocking and taunting and degrading as he drags his digits away, grabbing and pulling at your breasts, instead. Feeling the involuntary release of your cunt, Joel finally pushes himself in, sheathing the long, thick length of his cock inside you.

“Need to show this pussy what it’s fuckin’ made for.”

A current of pain flutters up your cunt just as he fills it up to the brim. You can’t help it—your stoicism crumbles to dust—and a soft, scared, pained whimper tumbles from your lips.

And he groans at it, thrusting roughly, over and over again. And again. “Hurts, does it?”

His breath is hot against your ear, and despite the fear, the ancient instincts gripping your bones, telling you to run, run, run, fight, fight, fight—it’s… enticing.

Hot.

“It hurts.”

He laughs, low and dark, bringing his hands to circle your hips, steadying you as you stumble on your tip-toes.

“Cry about it.”

And he keeps on going, tearing you open. The way his girth touches every starved part of your insides leaves you wanting, even despite the sting of his fingernails biting into your hips, the tears and cuts stinging at your opening.

You hate yourself for it.

But you clench around him, stifling a pathetic moan.

God, no—I am not enjoying this.

He breathes another laugh. “Feelin’ full, baby? Tell me how good it feels, c’mon,” and your inhalations come in heaves as he pounds into you, delivering a harsh slap to the side of your hip, hard enough for your skin to ripple from the contact. “Do as I say.”

When you refuse to sate him, swallowing all of your little noises, Joel grips your throat, bringing your head slamming against his shoulder. Your back arches into a perfect crescent, spine contorting at his will. A gasped cry fans out against his salt-and-pepper jaw.

A sob—of fear, of frustration, of reluctant pleasure. “You’re evil.”

The grip on your throat tightens, and he looses another laugh, squeezing your skin, muscles, and tendons oh-so-tight.

You’d be wrecked, bruised—branded—come sunrise.

“Yeah?” He groans, cock slamming up into your very guts.

“M-mhmm—” and the saltwater tears start pouring, trailing glistening slopes down your cheeks in long, long lines. Distantly, you hear his answer—“Yeah, well, you’re wet”—as those silver droplets keep on falling. Where they come from, you aren’t certain; of course, the terror, the physical torture, and the frustration at your entrapment contribute to the mess under your eyes.

But that warmth… the unbridled desire radiating between your thighs… that wasn’t helping, either.

“Fuuuuck,” he groans, muttering another “S’it—s’right,” and releasing your throat to tilt your head up to face him. He drinks in his creation, the ruined sight of your tear-stricken face, and his cock swells between your beaten walls. “God, you look so fuckin’ pretty takin’ it from me—cryin’ like your lil’ pussy ain’t desperate for this.”

Joel smiles when you sob.

It goes on for a while. He doesn’t tire quickly, bringing you right up to the edge of reluctant ecstasy before you remind yourself of the hatred you owed the man fucking into you. You get used to the sound of his hips snapping against your skin, your cries mingling with his gravelly, low grunts. It’s a dirty, depraved symphony—orchestrated by the monster between your thighs.

You can’t help the moan that escapes your lips when he finally, finally brings his fingers back down between your legs. He grunts in approval, barely grazing the length of your folds, pressing his thumb into the delicate flesh of your thigh, instead. “Dirty lil’ girl—fuckin’ dyin’ to be an old man’s whore, z’that it?” and he doesn’t even touch you, focussed on his own pleasure, but the proximity alone is enough to have you wrecked.

And you just can’t help it: “J-joel—”

“Y’know,” he chuckles, slightly out of breath, slowing his strokes to address your wanton whine, “You’re gonna make such a good lil’ fuck-toy, baby, f’you keep makin’ those pretty lil’ noises for me.”

The reality of the situation comes barrelling down on you as he acknowledges—praises—your enjoyment of his torture.

This man… this man was cruel. He was hurting you, and enjoying it.

You struggle against him, a pathetic show of weakness. Joel holds you in place effortlessly, arching your back further, keeping your hips preened back to receive the harsh thrusts he delivers to your torn, ruined cunt. “Where you goin’?” He laughs at your pathetic attempt at resistance, grips tightening. “Thought we were havin’ fun, baby—don’t it feel good?”

And he quickens again, slamming into every needy spot inside you. His breaths grow shallow, as rough as his hands and the ferocity of this punishment.

“No,” you manage, fingernails digging into his forearm.

He tuts, the vocal click constricted with lust, and his hand travels the length of you, settling against that aching bud between your thighs. “Fuckin’ liar.”

He presses down, proving his point. Your entire body tenses as pleasure ripples through you—despite your best efforts, climax crests through your core, threatening to implode within you. Joel hums, smirking when he feels your legs parting even wider.

“S’mine now, alright? You’re mine now.” He crams every inch of his cock up inside you, pulling you flush against his chest. “S’okay to come for me—s’okay, baby, I want you to—s’fuckin’ right, let go for me, baby—” and his crooning takes you over the edge.

Christ, it feels so good.

You clench around him, high-pitched pleas and moans tumbling from your lips, his own pair dragging down the swoop of your ear. In that split second, Joel—the devil at your back—is your favourite thing in the world: your hero, your haven, your God. Fuck, you could just kiss him, marry him, fuck him over and over and over and over—

A hand clamps over your mouth during those brief, blissful moments; the man practically bounces you up and down the length of him, muffling the cries of pain and pleasure tearing from your sore throat against the rough skin of his palm. He groans inside your ear—a stammered, sinful “fuuuck”—and then he’s spilling his seed inside you, shoving it impossibly deep as those quick, harsh strokes stutter and slow.

You come to, waking up from your pleasure-drunk daze. Before you get the opportunity to wriggle away from him, the monster flips you over again, slamming your shoulders to the wall. With his forearm barring your chest, and despite your fear and ire—somehow, all you can think about is the fact that he’s not as out of breath as he really should be (given his age and, of course, what he’d just done to you).

Joel leaks out of you. His cum paints masterpieces down your legs.

He slides his free hand down the length of his cock, collecting the last bits of slick clinging to him and not dripping out of you. The intermingling juices are brought to the roundness of your breasts—the raider slathers your sore peaks with his own spend.

“Nobody’s gonna fuck with you—but that means you’re Joel’s girl. Hear me?” With your head bowed, you glare up at him through silver-lined spider lashes, shame beating at your cheeks. When you hum your acknowledging “uh-huh,” the stranger continues on, gripping your jaw to angle your gaze up: “Means you listen—you-you don’t fuckin’ try me—n’ you take everything I give you, every fuckin’ time. Understand?” He tucks his softening length back in his pants, dark eyes dancing with satisfaction as he leers at your destroyed form.

When you don’t respond, he brings the back of his punishing hand colliding with the side of your face.

Something between a squeal and a gasp tumbles from your lips; Joel catches it, placing the pad of his thumb to your bottom lip, pressing down. Your cheek stings from his harsh slap, delivered on top of the scrapes and wounds a different cruel man had left upon your skin.

“I don’t wanna hurt you, baby, but I will f’I have to,” and he’s earnest, commanding and pleading at once. “You gotta answer me.”

Slowly, you croak out a timid, “Yes,” and an “I understand,” followed by a final “Joel.”

Nodding, he straightens, the violence in his gaze fading just minutely. When he lets go, you stagger—the raider senses the instability of your knees, reflexively snaking a steadying arm around your waist.

You’re not sure where the impulse comes from. Perhaps it’s exhaustion, the aftermath of your orgasm, or maybe it’s just a sick, twisted desire to sink into something beyond your body—either way, you respond to Joel’s support by throwing your arms around his neck.

And he responds by lifting you, walking you over to the bed, and tossing you down on the sheets. Awakening into reality, you scamper back, grabbing and yanking at the surrounding bedding in a desperate attempt to cover yourself.

But Joel pays you no mind.

Having had his way, he’s through with you—for now. Nonchalantly, apathetically, he runs a hand through his hair, tracing heavy steps towards the door.

“Lock the door when I leave,” he instructs, but his tone is soft… possessive and commanding, yes, but… caring. “Don’t open it for anyone but me.”

He waits for your show of understanding, your near imperceptible nod.

Then, he sighs, yanking on the handle and giving you his final address over a pair of creaky, squeaky, rusted hinges. “Try to sleep, sweetheart—got a long night ahead of you.” Chuckling to himself, he leaves the sanctuary of the room.

All you can hear as your body grows heavy and warm, travelling somewhere far, far beyond this violent world are the echoes of male laughter down the hall, and a familiar, satisfied, gravelly voice:

“Not worth much, now. Might just fuckin’ keep her.”

And you slip away, dreaming of belt buckles, blood-stained collars, and the lung-squeezing heat of the setting Texan sun.

—

He used to call me DN

That stood for deadly nightshade

'Cause I was filled with poison

But blessed with beauty and rage

Jim told me that

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

Jim brought me back

Reminding me of when we were kids

With his ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

I can hear sirens, sirens

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

I can hear violins, violins

Give me all of that ultraviolence

He used to call me poison

Like I was poison ivy

I could've died right then

'Cause he was right beside me

Jim raised me up

He hurt me but it felt like true love

Jim taught me that

Loving him was never enough

With his ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

I can hear sirens, sirens

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

I can hear violins, violins

Give me all of that ultraviolence

We can go back to New York

Loving you was really hard

We could go back to Woodstock

Where they don't know who we are

Heaven is on earth

I would do anything for you, babe

Blessed is this union

Crying tears of gold, like lemonade

I love you the first time

I love you the last time

Yo soy la princesa, comprende mis white lines

'Cause I'm your jazz singer

And you're my cult leader

I love you forever

I love you forever

With his ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

I can hear sirens, sirens

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

I can hear violins, violins

Give me all of that ultraviolence

—

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TAGS WILL CONTINUE IN A REBLOG (there are simply too many of you & I don’t want this post to crash <3)

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #raider!joel miller #raider!joel #tlou #the last of us #joel miller the last of us #Joel miller fanfiction #Pedro pascal #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #tlou fanfiction #joel the last of us #joel miller tlou

[joels-shitty-puns]

I'm gonna make a request again (sorry your last one was too good for me not to ask again) but this time for a jealous Joel! Maybe the reader and him have been friends for a while and she's oblivious to his flirting and she finally lands a date? How it goes from there can be up to you! I just love the jealous and possessive trope.

The Jealousy Bug

Pairing: Jealous!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Hi!! I'm so sorry this took me so long to write, but thank you for the request!! I hope you like it!! I got a lil carried away... hope its not too much smut.

~~~~~

(Reader and Joel live in Jackson, amid the apocalypse)

Word count: 6.8K (oof)

Warnings: 18+ only, MDNI!! Smut smut smut. P in V sex (likely unprotected but not specified. Its an apocalypse, yo.), masturbation (m and f), sort of dubcon? voyeurism?? sorta?, kissing, talk of genitals and arousal, horny behavior. Explicit language and mean names. Alcohol. Violence: infected, guns, punching, mention of a knife. Joel is kind of a jerk sometimes. Possessive. Mentions of loss and grief (all within S.1 of TLOU). I haven't played part II yet so we're just gonna ignore what we know happens there. Joel and Ellie are happy in Jackson. Joel and Reader are friends and sort of neighbors. Clueless idiots in love. A total asshole of a guy in the town. Lil bit of fluff/romance? Mention of bugs (pill bugs), but not in a gross way. If I missed anything, please let me know, and I apologize!

Other Stuff: Avoidance of reader descriptors, other than reader is AFAB. Mentions of having hair on the noggin. She/her pronouns. Reader is clueless and also clumsy as hell. Reader also drinks coffee and alcohol. Italics indicate thoughts.

__________

It was around 4PM when you filed into the community center for another mandatory patrol meeting. It may be an apocalypse, but even now, you wished this meeting could have been an email instead. Alas, that was a thing of the past, and you were unfortunately stuck listening to the usual spiel about necessary vs. unnecessary items to raid… The importance of remembering to ABC, “Always Be Cautious,” plants that can and can't be eaten, etc.

You sat in your usual spot, the back row next to Joel Miller. A year ago when you first moved to this town, first started patrol, you came into this very room not knowing anyone. Friend groups stuck together, each of the two front rows filled, yet a few empty spaces here and there. Instead, you walked towards the back of the room. A handsome man, who you soon learned was named Joel, sat by himself, three rows back, behind the last full aisle. He was alone. The whole aisle of chairs was empty. He sat with his arms crossed, and you could tell based on his posing that he was not the social type. 

You were feeling a bit nervous, having finally found a sort of civilization in this mess, and hoping the people of Jackson accept you and not just shoot you, like most camps do when they see unknown faces. Unsure where to sit, you continued to head towards the back, slightly drawn to the gorgeous gray-haired man in the last row. Not wanting to intrude, you sat at the far end from Joel. You could feel his eyes on you as you sat, but you didn't dare look over and make eye contact. Years of survival instincts have told you that, especially when someone doesn't want to be bothered.

_____

When you first walked into the room, Joel looked up. He sat in the back row, as usual, not wanting to get close to anyone. However, even if he did, nobody gave him the time of day. They have heard stories of what he’s done, they have seen him around town, often grumbling about something. They could tell he wanted to be left alone and they had no interest in testing how badly he wanted to be left alone.

Joel found it easier to not form connections. Tommy kept telling him to make friends, come around more, socialize in the town. But Joel had learned over the years why making connections never ends well. All he has is Tommy and Ellie, and neither of those were his initial decision, but Tommy is his only family, and somehow he let himself care for Ellie.

But when Joel saw you… there was a flash of longing. He saw you smile gently at Tommy with a small wave. He could see you shrink walking to your seat past the cliques. You were beautiful, and if it were pre-pandemic, you'd be the exact type he'd probably take interest to.

But those days are over.

Or… so he thought.

He set his eyes back down on his hands in his lap, avoiding eye contact with you when you sat down at the end of the row from him.

Why did she sit so far away? Am I that horrible to be around? His heart questioned.

You don't want to be near people anyway. Good she sat far away. Leave me alone. His brain tried to argue.

Tommy droned on and on, the meeting nearing an hour by now, and you could feel Joel’s eyes on the side of your face every few minutes. You don't know why he kept staring, but it made you feel nervous. Did you have something on your face or clothes? Did you smell bad?

Tommy knew his brother well, sometimes more than Joel likes to admit out loud, and as he talked, he took note of Joel’s staring. At first his expression looked confused, maybe irritated or disgusted. Then it looked slightly… disappointed. But he kept stealing glances your direction, and so with a smirk, Tommy assigned the two of you to be on patrol together. Joel questioned his reasoning afterward, but he knew there was no point arguing with his brother.

After that day, you patrolled together. You both went to the bar with the group after meetings. You sat closer and closer to Joel. You managed to get some words out of him, and he listened to you chatter on. But it was when you brought him a cup of coffee before patrol one morning that he finally let down his guard. His heart had betrayed his defenses.

“What's this?” He asked, gruffly.

“Coffee, Joel…” you replied with a joking eye roll. “It's black. I know you don't like anything in it.”

He took a sip, shocked to taste that you actually knew how he took his coffee. “How did you know that?”

“I notice things Joel.” You patted his shoulder, walking towards the group.

_____

Now, a year later, the two of you were very close friends. You still surprised him with things you remembered or noticed, but much to his chagrin, the one thing you didn't pick up on were his advances. He'd call you pet names, be sweet to you, treat you like a gentleman, flirt a little, and it was like talking to a robot. You were clueless.

Tonight's meeting finally ended, the large group heading outside to the chill fall air. “You wanna get drinks with the patrol squad?” you asked Joel. 

“Wouldn't miss it,” he winked at you, putting his leather jacket on his shoulders.

Although you went as a group, ultimately you and Joel spent most of the nights in your own little bubble, occasionally making space in your circle for Tommy, or Maria if she joined.

Tonight, the two of you sat at the bar, the patrol group spread throughout the room at different tables. Joel excused himself to use the restroom, and while he was gone, Jimmy, one of the other patrol members approached you. Hurrying before Joel returned, he flirted and asked you out on a date. You told him you'd think about it, that you weren't sure if you were ready for a relationship after years of caution.

Not technically a lie, you thought. Although you really just weren't ready for a relationship because your heart was already taken by your handsome best friend. 

Joel returned just in time to see Jimmy walking away. “What did he want?” Joel grumbled. “Ah nothin, just wanted to say hi while getting a drink,” you lied. Joel accepted this answer and the two of you drank into the night. At the end of the evening, you seemed pretty drunk. Jimmy offered to walk you home, but before you had a chance to reply, Joel replied for you.

“I'll take her home, thanks.” He bit, turning you away from Jimmy. “I don't like the idea of that boy walkin’ you home. Don't trust ‘im. ‘Specially not when you're in this condition,” he wrapped an arm around you, shuffling you toward the door.

“You don't think I can handle myself, Joel?” You asked him, pulling away, a little bit irritated at him treating you like a weakling. “I seem to do just fine on patrol,” you argued.

“I know that, sugar. I didn't mean it like that. I just don't trust that guy. Heard how he goes through women. Don't want him trying’ anything with you,” he brushed his hand over your hair, causing you to soften at his words and actions.

You gasped lightly. “Is THE Joel Miller… jealous?” You knew he wasn't, but why not test the waters?

“What? Jealous? Of what? No ‘m not.” he balked. “Just lookin’ out for you…”

“Mmhm… you just wanna be the only big strong man walking me home, huh?” You teased, tripping over your own feet. 

Joel caught you in his arms. “Big strong man, huh? ‘S that what you think of me?” 

Shit… did I say that? You panicked. Maybe I'm more drunk than I thought…

Deciding to tease it off, you replied, “well you do always seem to catch me when I fall…” with a wink.

Falling in more ways than one… you thought, frustrated.

He rubbed his neck with the hand not holding you upright. You could almost see a pink tinge to his cheeks.

No, that has to be the lights playing tricks on my eyes… you thought. No way Joel Miller was blushing at your words.

“I kinda have to, ya big klutz. Practically a liability. I oughta tell Tommy to add a safety section on patrolling with you,” he bantered.

“Ah, shut up” you laughed with a push, causing yourself to lose balance instead of Joel. He just gave a knowing look, causing you both to laugh as you continued walking, now side by side instead of him holding you up.

After a few moments of silence, you spoke up. “You know, I could've walked myself home, Joel,” you stumbled, giggling.  

“Whoa there, sweetheart.” He wrapped his arms around you again, propping you up. “Don't worry about it. Let's just get you home. You've had way too much to drink.”

“You're so sweet Joel,” you pouted at him, booping his nose. “Joelly Joel.” You giggled. “Jolly Joelly.” Another giggle. “I dunno why people think you're so grumpy. I think you're just a big teddy bear,” you closed your eyes, leaning your head on his shoulder while he stumbled forward, trying to keep you upright.

“Who says I'm grumpy, darlin’?” He tilted his head towards you, smirking. “The whole town, silly. Silly Joelly. Joely-poly.” You gasped abruptly, causing Joel to jerk and turn to face you. “What? What is it?” His hand reached for his knife on his hip. Old habits die hard.

“Joely-poly!!” You squealed. “Awe! Roly-polies. Remember those!? I used to love them when I was little.” You pouted. “Before this whole world went to shit.”

Joel thought back to the little pill bugs, playing in the dirt with them when he was younger. Teaching his own daughter about them. His heart aches for what he lost, but he also thinks of Ellie. He bets she would love the little bugs too.

“That's a cute nickname for you,” you smiled. “They're so cute. Just,” you booped his nose. “Like.” Boop. “You,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him tight. Another gasp from your lips.

He flinched again. “Darlin’, if you don't quit that I swear-”

“Joeeeel!” You pouted. “Do you think the roly-polies all died off with the infection!?” Your eyes welled up.

“Oh, sweetheart, don't cry. There's probably still some out there. Bugs could get cordyceps long before the fungus attacked humans, and they were still alive back then.” You looked up into his deep brown eyes through your fluttering lashes. “You really think so?” You leaned in, placing both your hands on his cheeks. His breath caught in his chest. “Darlin’, you drank a lot tonight-” you cut off his sentence, running your hands down his neck, resting your palms on his chest. His heart was beating a mile a minute. If he didn't know better, he'd worry his heart would leap out and fly away. 

Your eyes lit up and you slid off his chest, lowering clumsily to the ground and gripping his sides for balance. You were now on your knees, eye level with his crotch, hands on his hips. His breath was ragged and his stomach full of twirling butterflies. “Wh-what do you think you're doin’?” He asked nervously. You looked up at him with big eyes, your hands slowly falling down from his hips to his thighs as you tried to balance yourself in your drunken state. He couldn't help but feel his pants begin to tent at the position you were in. He would never take advantage of you in your current state, but trying to ignore the desire brewing in his body after so many months of unrequited feelings was challenging. Did you finally see his advances for what they were? Feelings instead of friendliness?

You grinned up at him, finally regaining balance. “I'm gonna go look for ‘em!” you turned and waddled away on your knees, heading a couple feet away, towards a patch of flowers off the path.

She just needed to use me as a ladder, or what…? Joel thought to himself with a sigh and shaking his head in disappointment, his sexual frustration at its breaking point.

You crawled forward, falling onto your hands and knees in the soft dirt. Joel quickly stepped forward to try and grab you but realized, despite your lack of grace, you meant to do that. “Ugh… darlin', it's dark out here. It's cold. You're drunk. Let's get you home.”

“I'm looking for buggies, Joel!!” You leaned towards a leaf, arching downward so that your face was closer to the ground, ass up. 

“Oh, have mercy…” Joel groaned under his breath, his eyes drifting downward. Your ass was up in the air, facing him, the fabric of your dress having fallen forward towards your front. Your light pink panties were on full display for Joel, leaving little to his imagination in this position. Joel subtly adjusted his pants, looking up to the sky and shaking his head in a silent plea. 

You whined. “Joel, I don't see any.” You leaned farther forward, wiggling your butt somehow higher. Joel looked around, panicked at the thought that someone else might see you in this position. But luckily, you were close to your house and it was just the two of you out here. He turned back to you again. “I think it's time you get up and we go in-” you moved further forward, the streetlight shining above you and illuminating your ass. Joel tried to be a gentleman, but his eyes betrayed him. As he snuck another glance, he couldn't help but notice a little wet spot over the crotch of your panties. “In-inside…” he finished his sentence, words catching in his throat. He gulped, trying to divert his eyes. 

Taking a shaky breath and stepping forward, trying to ignore the throbbing need in his pants, he lightly grabbed your arm. “It's time to go sweetheart. The bugs are sleepin’ I think.” 

You looked at him and smiled mischievously. “I know, Joel,” you winked. Jumping up, you scampered towards your house, leaving Joel to wonder what the hell just happened.

“Woman's gonna be the death of me,” Joel muttered under his breath to himself. He caught up to you, just as you both approached your house. “Joel, I don't wanna go home. Can't I stay with you? And Ellie?” you batted your eyelashes at him. He rubbed his neck. “Ellie's with a friend tonight. But, you do have a point. You probably shouldn't be left by yourself in this state. Don't want you gettin’ hurt, or sick, and bein’ all alone.”

“Such a gentleman, Joel.” You touched his bicep, the two of you walking towards Joel's house across the street.

Hardly, he thought, grimacing at the reason he was aching in his trousers, feeling like an old creep, and a terrible excuse for a friend.

Once inside Joel's house, he gave you a baggy sleep shirt and a glass of water with some crackers to help with the alcohol. You changed, brushed your teeth with a spare toothbrush, and used the restroom. He let you have his bed, while he took the couch down the hall, scrunching his legs up to barely fit.

_____

Joel tried his hardest to ignore what he saw earlier and just go to bed, but the aching only continued, making it impossible to sleep. Sure that you must have fallen asleep by now, tucked away in his bed down the hall, he quietly reached into his pajama bottoms and boxers, pulling out his rock-hard penis. Even the mere touch of removing himself from his pants caused him to hiss, so worked up he could have cum just watching you bent over earlier.

He was a gentleman, but he was still a man, and one that hadn't been with a woman in a very long time. With as many people as he'd lost by one means or another, he'd told himself he wouldn't get close to anyone else. Sarah's mom. Sarah. Tess. Bill and Frank. Sam and Henry. He almost thought he had lost Tommy before Jackson, too. It was against his wishes that Ellie crawled her way into his heart, and then he almost lost her as well. He was beginning to think maybe it was him. He was cursed, doomed to have anyone he loved ripped away from him.

Which is why when you came to Jackson, he tried his best to ignore you. But you always greeted him, cheerful and sweet, like a little ball of sunshine that was somehow untarnished by the storm clouds of an apocalypse.

He was irritated to realize that he had made room in his heart for you. You caused an ache in his heart that yearned to be filled. A missing piece in his soul. A place for him to someday fit, tangled between sheets and loving words. It had been about a year since you moved to Jackson, and he still feared getting too close to you, yet he would try his hardest to woo you the way a gentleman should. Sweet nicknames, flirting, gentle touches. You never picked up on it. Whether or not you felt the same, he stupidly fell in love. Unsure if it was mutual, yet pretty sure it wasn't after all this time, he tried to ignore the dirty thoughts revolving around you when the late-night urges would hit him. Somehow it felt wrong.

But tonight, it was hard to avoid. Having you touch him. His face, his neck, his chest, his hips, his thighs. Kneeling eye level with his crotch. Slinking away, sticking your barely covered ass in the air, letting your wet panties be shown to him and only him. He couldn't get you out of his head as he stroked himself. First slowly, but then harder and faster, trying to reach his climax with the thought of him burying himself in that sweet spot underneath your wet underwear. How he longed to see you with his own eyes, begging for him.

He tried to be quiet, to keep himself hidden from you down the hall, but the noise of skin on skin grew slightly louder with each of his quiet moans and panting breaths that managed to slip from his lips. Imagining himself buried deep inside you, taking you from behind in the same position he saw you in earlier, imagining the tight grip around him and the slick noises he could only fantasize about. He could practically hear you moaning and sighing, the sound seeping from his subconscious to the living room. He pumped harder, swirling his thumb around the head, drooling with precum, as his climax grew closer. He could feel his strokes becoming less controlled and his balls pulling upward as he began to shoot load after load of white hot release up under his shirt onto his stomach. Stroking himself through it, he milked his last few ropes of cum out before laying back to catch his breath, slowly tucking himself back away in his pants.

Coming back to his senses, he realized the sounds of your moans and whimpers that he was imagining were still happening. Taken out of his fantasies when he finished, there was no reason for the sounds to still be in his head. Needing to grab a cloth from the linen closet down the hall anyway, he walked, nearing his bedroom door, and heard the unmistakable sound of you pleasuring yourself. Quietly, he padded down the hallway, closer to the door. He could tell you were trying to be quiet, but could still hear you, soft whimpers and pants, surrounded by wet schlick noises.

Fuck, he thought. He could feel himself already getting excited again, despite having just released a few minutes ago. He desperately wanted to join you in his bed, or at the least, stand by the door and listen to your sounds while pleasuring himself, but he wasn't going to be a creep, nor scare you to death. You were still his friend. Even if he did want to move the couch across the living room to hear you better.

_____

Meanwhile in Joel's room, you had tried to sleep. You really had. But tossing and turning, each roll causing your nose to be surrounded with his scent, you were thrown into a frenzy, like an animal in heat. Each smell of his cologne, shaving cream, deodorant, and natural body scent that you picked up from his bed sent a wave of arousal directly to your core. You wondered how many times he'd pleasured himself in this bed and how frequently. You wondered if he ever thought of you while doing it, imagining himself buried deep to the hilt inside of you, each drag of his cock more perfect than the last, much like you were imagining now.

You would be lying if you didn't say there were a lot of handsome men in Jackson. Granted, you had been without romance for a very long time, but still. Many of them were single, and some of them were very sweet and friendly. Yet for some strange reason, your heart had been drawn to Joel. The first moment you saw him, with his silvery curls and his grumpy face, his shining brown eyes and his patched beard, you were smitten. You were a bit disappointed that he seemed to be a massive grump, but despite what everyone said, he was always nice to you. Granted, you were always nice to him, so why should he be anything less, right?

He was always a total gentleman, calling you names like darlin’ and sweetheart, his southern drawl pulling you in like a lasso. His care for his unofficially-adopted daughter warmed your heart, and you could see he was a real family man from both their relationship, and the one he shared with his brother. It warmed your heart, especially when you befriended Tommy and Ellie, getting to hear them talk about Joel. Seeing the love they feel, even if they give him a hard time sometimes. You didn't see how people felt Joel was cruel or heartless, even with the stories you heard. Times were rough, and people did what they had to for survival. 

You were always too chicken to make a move, and you figured he wouldn't be interested anyway. Surely him calling you those names and being sweet with you was just his Southern gentlemanly nature, right? You were nice to him, he was nice to you. 

So tonight, when Jimmy, the local heartthrob in town, asked you on a date, you told him you'd think about it and let him know. Yeah, you claimed you weren't sure how you felt about relationships after all the world had become. Truth was, you wanted a last chance with Joel before throwing in the towel and settling for Jimmy.

Sure, Jimmy was handsome. Blonde hair, blue eyes, rugged, yet boyish. Several of the women in town had crushes on him, and he had had several of the women in town. You weren't clueless to the rumors about his playboy behavior. But it had been a while and well, you weren't getting any younger. It might be nice to have a partner, even if he did only want a short little fling. 

So throwing back a few drinks, you decided you needed the liquid courage to finally make a move at Joel. One last effort to get his attention. You still didn't want to say anything to him, lest it ruin your current friendship that had grown so strong, but you could certainly use your body to entice a little. Drinking just enough to be brave, yet not so drunk that you were completely out of it, you gave an impression you were much drunker than you were, and needed Joel to help you out. Jimmy had almost been the one to walk you home, to your disappointment, before Joel stepped in, seeming slightly irritated about Jimmy's offer.

Yet after practically waving your ass in his face, showing him your panties (which you were sure looked wet), being inches from his crotch at knee height, and hanging on him all the way home, to now sleeping in his house and his bed, you were quite sure he didn't feel the same. Obviously his gestures were pure gentlemanly charm if he didn't bite after tonight's show.

So you tried to sleep, still a little drunk, but getting drunker off his scent. You tried to ignore the ache between your legs but the thought of him in this bed, groaning as his hand pumped his member to completion, made you throb. Soaked and antsy, you finally gave in and stuck your hand under the waistband of your panties. You let your imagination run wild, picturing him taking you in this bed, bringing you to bliss more than once. You could practically hear him groaning and panting, the sound seeping from your subconscious to the bedroom.

Tomorrow you would likely tell Jimmy yes. But tonight, you would try your best to get Joel out of your system, one stroke of your fingers at a time. But as you finished, coming with a whisper of Joel's name under your breath, you could still hear the groans and pants from Joel. Climbing out of bed, you moved to the door, pressing your ear against it. You could just barely hear the sounds of him panting and groaning, intermittent with the fapping of skin on skin. Delightedly surprised, you listened harder, feeling your pussy drool at the thought. How desperately you wanted to go out into the living room and climb on top of him. But he might not want that… he probably just couldn't sleep. Probably nothing to do with the scene you put on earlier. So instead, you slinked back to his bed, opting for round two.

At some point, the two of you fell asleep, panting and writhing with the self-induced pleasure, and the sound of each other through the door.

_____

The next morning, you awoke, walking down the hall to see Joel in his pajama bottoms and no shirt, making coffee. Your eyes scanned his broad shoulders and back, naked and tan. Bringing you back to last night's events, you felt your breath catching in your chest. 

“M-morning” you stuttered out, nervously.

Joel jumped, having not heard you. He turned, greeting you with a good morning. A faint blush crept across his cheeks and he quickly turned his head to pour a cup of coffee, offering you some as well. Thanking him, the two of you sipped in silence, both stealing glances at the other and thinking of the night before. Both of you felt like you had a dirty little secret the other didn't know. 

“Thanks again for taking care of me last night,” you added. In more ways than one, you thought.

“Of course, darlin’. Couldn't have you walkin’ home all alone or getting sick in the middle of the night. You're always welcome here,” he smiled.

“Well, I guess I better head to my house now,” you sighed. “See you later at patrol?”

“Course. Take care, sugar.” He brushed his hand over your arm. That's new… you thought. But still, probably friendly, unfortunately.

____

Hours later, you show up to patrol, noticing Joel hasn't arrived yet. Still a few minutes early, you look at the map, thinking over the route. You felt a tap on your shoulder, and turned around to see Jimmy. 

“Hey, Jimmy,” you greeted, feeling slightly awkward. You assumed he probably wanted (and deserved) an answer. You rubbed your arm nervously, staring at the ground, wondering what to tell him. He was handsome, you thought, and you weren't getting anywhere with Joel. 

“Did you, uh” Jimmy scratched behind his ear, “give any more thought to that date?”

Geesh. Not a lot of thinking time here…

“I did,” you replied. “I think… My answer is yes. I'll go out with you.” You felt a pang of regret in your stomach, but you wanted a connection, and you just weren't getting that from Joel, despite what you wanted to think from last night.

Jimmy grinned. “Really?” He picked up your hand, holding it in his. “That's great. I know you have patrol today, but maybe Friday? I'll meet you at your house at 6?” 

“Sure,” you gave a small fake smile. “Sounds great.” He still held your hand, warm and soft and nothing like the rugged, large, callused hands of hard-working Joel. Although Joel has never held your hand, the times he's touched your arms, or held you up on your walk from the bar, he left a trail of goosebumps and butterflies in his wake, despite being warm to the touch.

Jimmy went to kiss your hand, just as Joel walked up. “What’s goin’ on here, huh?” He asked, seeming almost… angry, looking from Jimmy, to your connected hands, over to your face. “Joel,” Jimmy dropped your hand, giving Joel a curt nod.

“Jimmy..” Joel replied, teeth clenched. 

“I'll see you Friday,” Jimmy smiled at you, touching your shoulder before walking away.

“What did that little asshole want?” Joel growled.

“Geez Joel, chill out. What's your problem? I'm not allowed to talk to people?” You crossed your arms.

“I toldja last night. I don't trust that kid. Too busy sleepin’ around with the whole town. What's he talkin’ to you for?” Joel furrowed his brow, looking over at Jimmy across the room, now talking to some of the other patrolmen.

“Gosh Joel.. seriously what is wrong with you? First of all, he's hardly a kid. He's at least in his thirties. Second of all, everyone he's been with, I'm sure has been consensual, otherwise Tommy would have kicked him out of the town. And lastly, but probably more important. What do you mean “what is he talking to you for?” You mocked in a deep voice. “Like I'm the only option he has left? Like I'm not deserving of a man talking to me? Not that it’s any of your business, friend, but for your information, Jimmy is taking me on a date on Friday. So fuck off, Joel.” You started to stomp away angrily, grabbing your pack off the desk.

“The fuck he is,” Joel muttered under his breath, so quiet you didn't hear and grabbing his pack as well.

_____

Five hours. Five hours of riding in complete silence, checking out abandoned buildings in complete silence, and taking breaks in complete silence. Even your first patrol wasn't this quiet, and you couldn't help but feel like he was somehow angry at you.

As irritated as you were with him, not talking to him somehow felt worse. This wasn't like him. Is this the grumpy side everyone talks about? Is this Joel, the asshole you have yet to meet?

Feeling confused, your eyes started to cloud, slightly teary with anger and sadness, yet also a bit of dread at going out with Jimmy. You blinked your eyes, sorting through the abandoned drug store you and Joel were in.

Finding some condoms on a shelf, you threw them in your pack. “What're you doin’?” Joel asked. “Those can't be sold, didn't you pay attention to Tommy? They're rarely effective this old.”

“Yes I paid attention, Joel. I know they can't be sold. They're for me. I figured it's better than nothing,” you replied bitterly. “I have a date in a couple days, I want to be prepared,” you scowled. Joel’s jaw clenched, but he didn't say anything, instead turning to look the other direction of the aisle.

Crouched down to search the bottom shelf for other items, Joel was still turned away from you, keeping lookout on the other end of the aisle. 

You didn't even hear the stalker leap around the corner from the shadows and pounce on you. It opened its mouth, fungal strands spreading from its mouth towards your face. Pure fear pulsed through your veins.

“Joel!!!!!” You cried out, using all your strength to try and push the infected off of your body, but it was too strong. 

You screamed and kicked, struggling to break free, when Joel fired his shotgun, shooting the enemy in the head and immediately running over to you. Throwing the infected off of your body as if it was weightless, Joel scooped you into his arms. His lips moved but you heard nothing. Your ears rang, high pitched squeals from adrenaline, fear, shock, and the bang of the shotgun.

Joel pawed over your body, roughly inspecting you for bites and wounds in a frenzy. When he didn't find any, he held you in his arms again. “It's okay baby, it's okay. You're alright sweetheart. Come back to me, it's okay. You're okay.” Your hearing must have returned. He rocked you, tears welling from your eyes and his. “You're okay. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.” He kissed your ear and the side of your head, still rocking you in a hug, sitting on the floor, inches from the now-dead infected. The two of you needed to get out of here, but neither of you could move yet.

Finally you spoke. “Why are you sorry Joel?” You asked with a sniffle. You wrapped your arm around his back, the other hand finding the back of his head, gripping his curls gently.

“I'm sorry for how I've been actin’ all day. I'm sorry I didn't see that stalker before he attacked. I'm sorry for being so possessive earlier. I'm sorry,” he held you tighter.

You pulled back to look into his eyes. “Joel, you couldn't have heard or seen that stalker. That's what they do best. You saved me and that's all that matters. As for earlier, you were being an asshole, and it did really hurt my feelings. All this time people have said you're such a jerk, and I didn't see it,” you pulled away from his grip, “but today I did.” You looked at your lap. “Don't I deserve to go on a date? Don't I deserve to have someone love me?” You picked at the hem of your pants, avoiding his eye contact.

“Oh, darlin', I'm so sorry. I never meant for you to feel that way. I just - you deserve something real, not a hookup like that guy wants. I know his type. He'll sleep with you and toss you aside. You deserve to be treated like a lady.”

You snorted. “Yeah, Joel. That's how things are nowadays, too. Gentleman just waiting to sweep me off my feet. Shit, you literally just saved me from near-death, something that happens all the time today, and yet you're saying I deserve love? To find romance? Yeah, right.”

Joel didn't say anything. He just looked into your eyes, lips pursed and moving to the side in thought. His eyes drifted to your lips and back up to your sight.

You continued. “I don't even like Jimmy,” you said quietly. “I like someone else, but I just got tired of waiting and wanted some kind of connection. Even if it's just a night in bed.” At the last part of your sentence, Joel grimaced, almost in pain. And then he thought.

“Wait,” he sat back a little, scanning your face. “Who do you like?” 

You gulped. Why not a little more adrenaline? “Well, it was you, until you started acting like an asshole. But I realized you probably didn't feel the same way a while ago. Especially after I practically threw myself at you last night.”

“Threw yourself at me last night? What are you talkin’ about? You were drunk,” Joel answered.

“I wasn't that drunk, Joel. My movements were pretty planned. The placement of my touches on your body. My ass angled up in your direction. I wanted you,” you added, pointedly.

Joel looked like he was solving a complicated math problem. “So you… last night when you… I heard you, in bed, pleasurin’ yourself. Were you… thinking about me?”

You looked up at him in shock and panic. “You heard me?” You asked in a frantic whisper.

“Yeah, I uh… I did. I got up to get a towel and heard your uh… sounds” he cleared his throat.

“I guess I should tell you then that I heard you too,” you said with a smirk.

Joel swallowed, hard. “Y-ya heard me?”

“Yep” you replied, popping your lips on the p sound.

Joel had nothing to lose at this point. “I was thinking about you,” he proclaimed. “Thinkin’ bout that wet spot on your panties when you flashed your ass in the air. Wishin’ I was buried inside you.” He ran his hand across your thigh.

Your breathing picked up. “I was thinking about you too. Wishing you'd bust through that door and take me in your bed, running my nails down your back as we came together…” you mimicked the motion with your fingers down his jacket-clad back.

“Fuck,” he hissed, eyes closing. You glanced down at the noticeable bulge in his jeans. “I like you too, I just never thought you felt the same. Y’never seemed to pick up on any of my sweet talkin’ or my names for ya.”

“I just figured you were being nice,” you replied, glancing back into his eyes.

“You should know by now, I'm only nice to you,” he growled. “I'm sorry I ruined that today,” he glanced at your mouth, licking his lips. “Was just jealous. Want you all for myself,” he stroked your thigh again.

You sighed at the feeling, pulling him by his collar to kiss him deeply. The kiss was frantic and rough, both of you trying to get as much of each other as possible, a year of build-up boiling at the surface. Teeth clashed and tongues danced and you pulled each other closer, grasping at clothes and skin. 

The two of you broke the kiss, needing a gasp of air. You started to take off your shirt when Joel stopped you. “Whoa, darlin'. I want you just as bad, but not here,” he gestured to the old building. “It's dangerous, not to mention gross in here. I wasn't kidding when I said you deserve romance,” he stood, pulling you to your feet. “We're about a 20 minute ride from base, let's head home. Make your fantasy of fuckin’ in my bed come true,” he winked, giving a smack to your ass. 

_____

The 20 minute ride felt never-ending as you both stole glances at each other, your panties still wet with arousal, and him still sporting the tent in his pants, which was hard to miss. 

Finally making it back to the stables, you both quickly undressed the horses and put gear away, about to head out of the barn when Jimmy and his partner rode up. “Hey, babe,” he called to you. It sounded wrong from his mouth. Joel tensed at your side.

Dismounting his horse, Jimmy strolled over to you. “Hey Jimmy, I was thinking. I don't think I want to go on that date after all. I'm sorry, I just don't feel the same way.”

“What?” Jimmy asked in disbelief.

“I know, I'm sorry if I hurt you. I- I like someone else. I just didn't think they felt the same way,” you replied sheepishly.

“Fuck you,” he spat.

“What?” You were in disbelief.

“Fuck you, bitch. One of the few women in this town who won't fuckin’ put out. I was even gonna take you on some shitty date before I got you into bed, and now you make a fool of me? Nah, I don't think so,” he stalked towards you angrily. 

You stepped back, worried what he might do, but Joel stepped in first, nailing a punch at Jimmy's nose. “Don't you dare talk to her like that,” Joel yelled.

Tommy came running in, hearing the commotion. After hearing what happened, it was decided that Jimmy wouldn't be welcome in this town any longer.

Satisfied, you grabbed Joel's hand. “Why don't I show you who I really belong to?” You looked up at him, biting your lip.

“Lead the way, baby.” He pushed you forward, smacking your ass.

The two of you stumbled into his house, kissing with little regard for objects. Luckily, Ellie was still at a friend's house. The door slammed closed and you kissed furiously, undressing as you walked. Finally you reached his bedroom and fell onto the bed, where he made all your fantasies of the night prior come true. The two of you enjoyed the taste of each other's mouths, kissing and licking, while he pounded into you, leaving you breathless and screaming his name as you both came.

“That was even better than I imagined,” you sighed, rolling over onto his chest.

“That's my girl,” he cooed, kissing your head and rubbing your back.

“Mine,” he whispered.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #a! wrote a fic #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x afab!reader #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #jealous!joel #joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #the last of us

[palioom]

just a game

summary: you ask joel to fulfill a fantasy of yours. after some thinking, he agrees, absolutely surprising you.

pairing: joel miller x f!reader word count: 3.2k warnings:18+ content; no use of y/n (but a lot of nicknames) ; cnc (consensual non-consent); some knifeplay, oral (m receiving); fingering; unprotected p in v; some spanking; degradation & praise; aftercare; light bondage

• masterlist •

It was late when it happened. Standing at the kitchen counter, chopping some vegetables to add to the soup she was making.

The wind whirling the snow against the large windows, howling outside like the wolves in the forests.

She was too occupied to hear him, humming away to the tape he had gifted her on her birthday last year, swaying her hips from side to side as she concentrated on not cutting herself.

Just some old tunes, some she liked, some she didn’t at first but was falling more in love with as she played them over and over.

Hadn’t heard the noise of the switchblade or his heavy footsteps on the wooden floor.

Too wrapped up in her little world, thinking about how much he would love what she cooked.

Only when he stood right behind her, cold blade pressed to her neck, did she stop. Inhaling sharply as she felt him press up behind her, broad frame against her back, his other arm wrapping around her and crushing her against him.

Her kitchen knife falling out of her hand and onto the chopping board.

“Don’t scream or you’ll regret it.”

Heat already settling deep in her stomach, blood rushing through her ears.

So today was the day. 

They had discussed this beforehand, and Joel had been apprehensive at first, unsure what she meant when she had brought up the idea.

The whole idea of wanting to be violated, to feel scared, it was strange to him, his look telling her everything she needed to know.

Feeling sad that he wouldn’t do this for her, but it had been worth a try to ask.

But then he had become interested, finding himself drawn to the idea of this, surprised by himself.

She seemed so excited by this idea, he couldn’t say no.

It was worth a try.

After figuring out a timeframe, and some safety measures, as he already pretty much knew her limits, she had just waited.

Day in and day out, anticipation keeping her on edge, just waiting for him to make a move, and now it was time.

“Been watching you for a few days, pretty girl living all alone?” He whispered against her ear with a smirk. 

Adrenaline pumped through her, despite the fact she knew this was just a game, it was thrilling, feeling herself grow wet.

She struggled in his grip a little, at which his arm crushed her against his chest harder.

“You better stop resisting, darlin’, or I’ll cut your throat and fuck you while you bleed out.”

It shouldn’t excite her, but it did, struggling in his grasp and swallowing hard.

“What- What do you want?” She asked, voice shaking, trying to get a look at him.

He ground his hips into her ass and she could feel him already hard, having to bite back a moan.

“Just be a good little slut for me, think you can do that?” Voice dark and dripping with desire, but also something sinister. “Be my little whore?”

Her heart beat so fast in her chest she thought it was going to jump out of it, nodding with a shaky breath.

The knife travelled down her throat, down to her exposed collarbone, pressing the cold, flat metal against her skin.

With one swift motion, he had cut one strap of her tank top, making her gasp.

Her knees wobbled a little, scared but turned on by all of this, a whimper dying in her throat.

Joel yanked the fabric down, exposing her breast and letting the knife glide over it, goosebumps breaking out over her skin.

“Please, I’m-”

He shushed her, right in her ear, making her whimper loudly.

“Good whores don’t talk.” He said, smirking.

Eyeing the knife on the counter, she made an attempt to grab it, knowing she had no chance and it would only aggravate him, but trying nonetheless.

“Nuh-uh.” He grunted, tearing her away from the counter after slamming his own knife onto it in a swift motion, grabbing her wrists and twisting her arms behind her back so quickly she had no time to react.

Only yelping from the pain as he roughly kept them there, fishing a rag from the back pocket of his jeans.

“Good whores don’t struggle either, what do you think you’re doing, little girl?”

The rag stung her as he tied it around her wrists, pulling it tight so it cut into her skin, but not cutting off the blood flow.

She trusted him with this, even though she simultaneously didn’t trust him with anything right now, tears in her eyes as he stepped around her.

Feeling so scared, so anxious, but also safe at the same time.

It was a difficult tug of war of emotions inside of her.

The smirk on his face was downright devilish, she had rarely ever seen it on him, whimpering as he brushed his knuckles over her cheek.

Gently, like they were just back to normal.

She found herself actually recoiling from him.

“Please, don’t- I don’t- Please!” She sobbed, his hand twisting into her hair, yanking hard, making her cry out.

“I said good whores don’t talk, sweetheart. Maybe I gotta stuff that pretty mouth of yours to get you to shut the fuck up.” His dark eyes were stern, angry. “Get down on your knees.”

She knew there was no room for arguing, but she couldn’t, sobbing again, actually surprised at how easily he put her in this headspace of danger while also being incredibly aroused.

“No, please- I’ll-”

“Down!” He yelled, voice echoing in the small kitchen, pushing her down on her knees, towering over her. She wondered if the neighbours heard, what they were thinking. “It won’t get better if you’re being a fucking brat, darlin’.”

She looked up, seeing him blurry as tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Cry more, darlin’, only makes you look prettier.” He let go of her hair, hands moving to open his belt and then his jeans, pushing them down just enough to take his already hard cock out. “Told you not to talk and you did, maybe some cock in your mouth is gonna teach you how to follow some fucking orders, sweetheart.”

Wrapping one hand around the base of his cock, his other hand found the back of her head, fingers curling into her hair again. Joel guided his cock to her lips, smearing the precum all over them before giving her cheek a smack with it, chuckling.

“Gonna take it all, bet your mouth feels nice and wet.” Moving it back to her lips, he pressed against them. “Now be a good little slut and open wide.”

She refused at first, whimpering and trying to move her head away, but he kept her in an iron grip, yanking at her hair to get her to face him again.

“I said open.”

His voice was so cold and so dark that she did, feeling him slide past her lips, pushing in halfway with a deep grunt, stilling.

The salty taste already spreading over her tongue.

“Feel fucking amazing, doll. Now stay nice and relax and be a good slut for me.”

Slowly his hips rocked back and forth, forcing more of himself into her mouth with each thrust, groaning when the vibrations of her moans and whimpers went through him.

Tears still rolling down her cheeks, spit pooling at the corners of her mouth.

It was strange how she both enjoyed and hated it, keeping her jaw slack to accommodate his thick length.

“Just like that, ‘atta girl.” He grunted, enjoying the image of her on her knees and crying. “Ain’t that nice, mouth stuffed with cock? Bet you can take more.”

Forcing himself in all the way, she gagged, throat tightening around him and he groaned, having to keep himself from throwing his head back from how good it felt.

Her sounds became louder, struggling as she felt him at the back of her throat, trying to breathe through her nose, more tears stinging in her eyes.

Joel kept himself buried there all the way just a moment longer before he pulled back, letting her breathe.

She took big gulps of air between coughs, her jaw burning already, sobbing more, but also squeezing her thighs together, chasing some friction.

Joel noticed.

Grinning wider.

“Oh, someone likes that, huh?” He said, moving her head so she had to look at him, still breathing hard. “You dirty, little whore like it when I fuck your mouth? Bet you’re soaking your panties right now, wet from my cock down your throat.”

She shook her head, sputtering some words, trying to string together a sentence.

Unable to, her mind feeling like it was on a cloud, head spinning.

“If you love me fucking your mouth you’ll enjoy having my thick cock in your tight pussy.” He chuckled, his hand wandering to her throat now, gently squeezing the sides. “Tight little hole’s probably squeezing ‘round nothing right now, begging for some cock.”

She shook her head again, words stopping when he squeezed harder.

“You know you’re lyin’, sweetheart.” 

Joel pushed her back, letting her fall onto the floor with a yelp and coming to kneel over her, ripping the other strap of her tank top and pulling the fabric down to her waist.

It hurt, the way she was lying on the ground, the way he looked at her unnerving her, the air cold against her exposed breasts.

His broad hands cupped the soft flesh, squeezing harshly, rough fingers rolling and tugging on her nipples, making her moan.

“Got such pretty tits, sweetheart.” He chuckled, staring her right in the eyes.

And god, was that stare frightening.

Joel was too good at this.

She tried kicking him, thrashing her legs but he swiftly grabbed the back of her thighs and pushed them up to her chest, making her cry out in pain.

“This won’t do, pretty girl, fucking kicking me when I’m just trying to enjoy your pretty tits.” He pressed himself against her, almost folding her in half, hands moving to the button on her jeans and opening them. “Looks like someone’s gotta need to learn their lesson. Don’t worry, darlin’, I’ll teach you and your tight, little pussy just right.”

She squirmed as he worked her pants down her legs, trying to kick more but giving up soon. He was too strong and too big, pushing her panties into her mouth when she started to protest again.

“Now look at you, gushing for me, dripping onto the floor like the little whore you are.” Holding her ankles in one hand, he pushed her legs up, making her cry out again, muffled against the fabric. “And you were trying to tell me you didn’t like this. Y’know, darlin’, I don’t really like lying, little sluts.”

Whimpering, she moaned loudly when he swiped one finger through her folds, bringing it up to his mouth and tasting her.

“Fucking delicious, sweetheart. Wish I had more time to really get a taste of you.” Joel worked two fingers into her, feeling her squeeze tightly around him, her legs squirming in his grasp. 

Thrusting his fingers out rapidly, curling and scissoring them, he built her up fast, moans and grunts muffled as she squirmed.

The wet squelch of her echoed around them, feeling it drip down onto the floor.

“Listen to how wet you are, sweetheart, fucking dripping.” He chuckled, speeding up and curling his fingers into that spongy spot that made her see stars. “Gotta work you open a little, can’t have your pussy ruined the next time I visit. What a good girl you’re being when your mouth is full.”

Her orgasm took her by surprise, eyes rolling into the back of her head as she trembled, gushing all over his fingers.

“‘Atta girl, good, little slut. Get ‘em nice and wet for me.”

Slowing down, he finally pulled his fingers out of her, sucking them clean with a hum.

He let her legs down gently before grabbing her hips, moving to turn her onto her stomach, hoisting her ass up, her cheek pressed into the cool tiles of the floor.

She groaned, the pressure finally off her arms, still trembling slightly, fully exposed to him.

Her shoulders hurt, as did her wrists, but somehow it only added to the pleasure. A strange thought, that she was getting more and more turned on by how he treated her, all while tears still stained her cheeks.

Joel wasted no time, pushing himself against her, hands holding her up by her hips as he slowly dragged the head through her folds, then moved further up and teasingly pressed against the tight ring of muscle, making her try to move forward with noises of protest.

“Don’t want me to fuck your pretty asshole?” He asked, grinning as she shook her head but moving back down, nudging the fat head of his cock against her entrance. “There’s always a next time, sweetheart.”

Then he pushed in, sinking into her with one fluid motion, all the way to the hilt.

“What a pretty, tight pussy. All dripping for me, what a good slut you are.”

She groaned, tears in her eyes as he started a rough pace, pushing her up with each thrust, having to pull her back again and again as he sank himself into her.

“You look so good, darlin’, crying with your hands tied and my cock in you, feels good, huh?”

Her mind felt hazy, nodding as she cried, feeling overwhelmed by what was happening, the cool tiles in contrast to how hot she was feeling.

Like she was burning up from the inside.

A sharp smack landed on her ass, the sting making her cry out, which only earned her another.

“D’you hear how wet you are? C’mon, little girl, soak my cock for me.” He was losing his rhythm, leaning over her and pressing her into the floor with his entire weight now, his broad chest against her back. “Can’t wait to come back and fuck you again, sweetheart.”

Joel’s hand moved below her, finding her clit as he kept fucking into her, drawing rough circles into the swollen bud.

Ripping a second orgasm from her, her body trembling even worse, cries loud even despite the makeshift gag. The pleasure of it overwhelming, a mix of desire and shame rolling over her, burning into her skin.

Soaking his cock, hearing it drip onto the floor as he kept working his fingers over her, close himself.

“Just like that, ‘atta girl, ‘atta pretty girl.” He grunted, just rambling along, losing himself. “‘Atta fucking, little whore.”

He came with a loud grunt, burying himself to the hilt, filling her up.

It was like a switch had been flipped, as he slowly found his breath on top of her, feeling her still trembling and sobbing.

“Are you alright, darlin’?” He asked, removing her panties from her mouth, sobs now freely bouncing off the cabinets and walls. “Shh, I’m here, c’mere.”

Pulling out of her slowly, he undid her restraints, rubbing over the red, sore spots.

“Joel-” Her voice was hoarse, feeling spent and exhausted and just ready to sleep.

“M’here, don’t worry, sweetheart.” He said, gently picking her up and bringing her over to the living room, setting her down on the sofa. “You did well, wait for me, I’ll be right back.”

How easily he just turned back to normal.

One second brutal and unforgiving, the next carrying her like she was the most fragile thing in the world.

She tried to make sense of her feelings while he was gone, rubbing the red marks on her wrists, clumsily wrapping a blanket around herself.

It wasn’t because she was upset or terrified. Of course, it was terrifyingly real, to be subjected to him like this, knowing he could actually be capable of violence.

But it also felt exciting, the way he just took from her without a care in the world. His degrading words made her skin burn.

There was a war of emotions inside her, trying to shake that feeling.

“C’mere, drink something.” Joel was back, sitting down next to her, pulling her close as he held a glass of water to her lips, watching her drink greedily. “‘Atta girl. My pretty girl, you’ve done really well.”

He was soft and warm, gentle hands rubbing over her exposed thighs, his lips finding her temple.

Making her feel loved and protected.

Joel wrapped his arms around her once she had finished, leaning back with her on the sofa, kissing the top of her hair.

“Was I too rough? Talk to me, sweetheart.” He was worried about her, stroking her hair and her back as she slowly calmed down.

Joel had enjoyed himself, but this wasn’t worth it if she hadn’t.

“Was good.” She said, sinking into him, the warmth and softness of his body engulfing her, calming her mind and her nerves. Getting her out of that headspace, back into the real world.

Her hands wandered over his body, feeling his firm chest through his shirt, the soft belly.

“Did good, got me spooked.”

He chucked, kissing her forehead. “Guess I did. Did you enjoy yourself?”

She nodded, the hand on his side squeezing him gently

A quiet gesture, letting him know she was alright.

Sleep was already tugging at her, but his embrace felt so good, so safe, that she didn’t want to sleep just yet.

His voice soothing as he praised her, over and over.

“Did so well for me, like the good girl you always are for me, sweetheart.” He whispered, smiling. “M’glad you enjoyed yourself.”

Joel felt her drift off, just holding her tighter.

Feeling the need to protect her as he slowly found his head back in reality too.

“Thank you, Joel.” She murmured, sighing. “Liked it, felt good.”

A hiccup shook her, making both of them laugh quietly.

She felt safe again, his hands and voice dragging her out of the headspace she had been in. Comforted in his strong arms.

“Sleep, darlin’. We’ll talk in the morning.”

Seeing her so calm helped him tremendously, knowing he did it right, he’d done something she liked. That he hadn’t hurt her.

She nodded, letting sleep pull her under, feeling just safe enough.

“Love you, Joel.” It was barely audible, so quiet and words mumbled.

But he understood, squeezing her hip as his hand rested on it.

His response came in the form of a hum, allowing himself to sit here for just a little while, hearing her soft breaths, feeling her warmth against him.

It felt good, having helped her fulfill something she had thought about for a while, and despite her tears she seemed to have enjoyed it a lot.

“Let’s go to bed.” He whispered, picking her up. Careful not to wake her, smiling softly as he looked into her face, a little puffy and red but calm.

Yeah, he’d just make sure she got cleaned up properly in the morning and then they could talk.

Who knew, maybe he would get to help her again.

Maybe she had some more ideas to share with him.

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #the last of us #the last of us hbo #the last of us imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal characters #my writing

[s-4pphics]

tag, you're it! (e.w.)

ITS PRIDE MONTH PUSSSSSSYYYYYYY 

omg this is kindaaaa…. yeah

imma lil proud LOL hope y’all like it 

wc;cw: 14.2k, ceosdaughter!ellie, tagger/artist!oc, ANGST!!, mentions of depression and suicidal ideation, illness, parental death & brief mentions of funerals, descriptions of foster care/homeless shelters and poverty, both oc n ellie have daddy issues, MOMMY ISSUES!!, brief mentions of drug addiction(coke), homophobia DURING PRIDE MONTH🤨🤨, internalized homophobia and misogyny, ellie is a horny touch starved loser n kinda stalkerish?, mentions of criminal injustice(police, prisons, etc.) i hate it here, rich ppl being demons, SMUT!!!!! MDNI!!!!, light descriptions of masturbation, potential dubcon!!, sexual tension😟, bratty subbottom!ellie, mean domtop!oc she carries her dick on her like a glock lol, slight fearplay, KNIFE PLAY/BLOOD, DIRTY TALK, finger and strap sucking, fingering, pussy eating, MOMMY KINK!!, nipple play, squirting <333 n creaming <333, riding, reverse cowgirl, slapping(FACE!!! ass titties), hitting it from the bbbbback, loss of virginity, masochism LOL, a lil ass play LOL, pretty taboo themes catch it

“She’s… I genuinely believe she’s deranged, your honor! She’s… uncontrollable! Look at what she’s done to our city! Civilians can see her tracks everywhere they go, and it’s disgusting! Not to mention she’s a pervert!” 

You rolled your eyes as you listened to the high-pitched, ongoing shrieks of one of the wealthiest women in the state as she spat belittlements of you to the judge. 

You were… fucked. 

You adjusted in your uncomfortable chair, leaning back and crossing your arms over your chest, turning your head to eye your lawyer, arching a brow at him as you waited for his defenses for you. He looked… scared shitless, to say the least. 

Yeah. You were definitely going to fucking jail. 

Were these pieces of shit really going to treat you like Satan himself for pulling a measly, little prank? Has April Fools truly lost all meaning?

A couple of days ago, on April 1st, you took it upon yourself to spray paint ♡GIRLDICK♡ across the largest building in the city, which just so happened to be owned by the Miller family, if anyone even bothered to call their cultist bond that. Their wealth swiftly accumulated when the now deceased founder of the organization, Joel Miller, discovered some new form of AI technology… or whatever the elders at the shelter told you. His death shook your city years ago; You weren’t sure why it was so moving for people, but R.I.P, you guess. 

You assumed they were just another group of elitist fuckers, but he must’ve been decent at the most; You still remember his memorial broadcasting on the small TV at the shelter as the other residents mourned in solace. 

Regardless, you hope all their institutions across the nation collapse one day, preferably with the rest of them inside. 

The broad in the black, silk suit kept pointing her finger at you, and it took everything in your spirit to not get up out of your seat and rip it clean off her hand and shove it down her throat. 

Not every tag you’ve done around the city has been rooted in “perversion”. There’s nothing perverse about… loving girldick. It’s a way of life!

Fuck security cameras. 

Unbeknownst to them, you’ve already been coined as a hidden talent in the city, at least according to some people you know at the shelter. You’re faceless in the eye of the public, but that separation doesn’t negate their appreciation for your artwork. You even went viral for the mural you painted of your father for his birthday two years ago, even though the fucker that posted it on Instagram hadn’t included your signature. You could bet millions of people have seen it by now, and you gained absolutely nothing from it. 

But, of course, your form of creative expression was being reduced to a jizzing penis. You've created countless mosaics around the city that represent the purest forms of love and sex, and now you are being blasted for being some sort of corrupt sicko. You only drew what came natural to you, and if people felt a way about it, they could choke on the fattest girldick known to humanity. You hate rich people.

Your father didn’t sacrifice everything he had to teach you the complexities of sketching for your name to be attached to outlines of dicks. You didn’t grow up watching your father skip meals so he could get you a new water paint set for your birthday every year for your art to be lawfully ridiculed. The only comfort this situation brought was that you knew he would’ve found the sloppily drawn cock hysterical. You still remember his laugh after all this time. 

You miss him dearly. You probably could’ve been just as rich, if not more, as the bitch at the other table if he was still here with you. He would’ve ensured you didn’t stray off into the life you live now. 

Being in foster care was the dissipation of your joy. You were considered a problem child very early on: fighting the caretakers when they tried to calm you, cursing at them, stealing, and nobody wanted to adopt you because of that, regardless of your talents. You were set up to fail too early, and you despised the world because of it. 

Your record was horrendous, and you were going to jail. You fucking hate rich people.

… Except the Miller's eldest daughter. She gets a pass. 

And she keeps staring at you. 

Every time you caught her sparkly eyes, she blushed and looked forward, her freckles surrounded by a deep red that rushed down her neck. She was dressed much less… sophisticated than her mother: her hair tied back in a low bun and littered with black bobby-pins, a dark-blue sweater, rings on her thumb, black pants, and clean Vanz. 

You knew a lesbian when you saw one. You could barely hide your knowing smirk. 

“My child doesn’t need to be exposed to such… nauseating ideologies! Think of the children of the city and what they’re forced to see because of vile people like that,” she pointed at you again. You were this fucking close to stabbing her with that pen in front of you. 

Your daughter’s gay, Mrs. Miller. 

“With all due respect, ma’am,” the judge started. What kind of backwards shit was this; Wasn’t she supposed to be respecting him? “It’s important that we stay on track. You’re specifically suing her for vandalism— “

“Ongoing, unchecked vandalism! This is not her first charge, your honor, it’s her seventh! She’s… she’s— “

You tried to tune her out, looking around the congested space of the courtroom, and you caught eyes—shiny, green eyes— on you. Again. 

She was fiddling with her hands in her lap, her teeth picking at the dry skin on her bottom lip. But she didn’t look away this time. You watched her eyes trail over your face, down to your jaw, your neck, your chest, only to come back up to your eyes. 

You did the same, taking in the dots on her soft cheeks, her eyes, her pretty nose, and mouth, looking her up and down, biting your lip, letting her know you were gauging her. She was cute, you had to admit. 

“—sentenced to three years in federal prison— “

You looked up in shock, feeling like your body had been dunked into a tub of ice water and left to die, instantly stiffening at the announcement of your sentence, the sound of the slamming gavel nearly putting you six feet under. 

You couldn’t do anything but stare at the judge in disbelief as he organized his papers emotionlessly, your lawyer putting his hand on your shoulder. You knocked it off and glared at him. You looked over to the table, the family already up and taking their leave, Mrs. Miller’s hand tightly enclosed around her daughter’s wrist as she dragged her out the wooden doors.

Two security guards were already walking towards you with cuffs, gripping your arms too roughly to pull you up out of your seat and latching the metal around your skin. You started to panic as they walked you towards another set of doors.

“Wait, wait, my backpack, I need my— “

“You aren’t allowed to have anything on you. Your property will be held by the court until further notice.” 

“But— “

“No buts, and don’t resist,” you felt the security grip your arm harder, and your anxiety peaked, your panting breaths hardly leaving your body.

You didn’t resist. You couldn’t. Your life was shattering around you in slow motion, loose shards slicing through you with intent to kill. 

You allowed the brawly men to drag you… anywhere. You didn’t care anymore; You were tired, and no longer had the urge to fight left in your heart. 

Ellie was brought up in isolation. 

Homeschooled, no friends, no purpose outside of being the vessel to represent her family name, creating the next line of heirs for her father’s company. 

The benefits of his successes had simply… appeared when she was fifteen. 

She remembered how he went from being present, gave her the utmost attention, played sports with her, taught her how to sing and self-defense with his past down switchblade, to not, completely cut off from society as he barricaded himself in his study and worked relentlessly on new forms of technology. Being an only child brought nothing but loneliness for her after a while. 

But then they were rich. They moved to an affluent neighborhood and into a two-story house in a matter of months, driving Porches and buying out stores. Wealth appeared, but the relationship with her family suffered because of it. 

Her father fell ill, and after a multitude of hospital visits, teary farewells, and a memorial, he was gone. Merely a memory that hardly seemed real. Her and her mother’s relationship became even more unsteady after his passing. 

Ellie’s mother swiftly took over the company in an almost authoritarian way. She interacted with society in a robotic, rehearsed manner. Mechanical, soulless, the only proof of her humanity exposing itself when she snorted white powder. 

Her mother had brought up the idea of marriage the second she turned eighteen, a year before her father’s passing, saying that there were multiple well-off men that were eager to be with her, willing to give her children. Multiple. 

Men…. children… having children with men. Money. The empire. Her mother.

It all made her nauseous. 

… But art didn’t. 

She’d always kept her journals secret. Left in a box on the highest shelf of her walk-in closet where the maids couldn’t find them.

She expressed everything that she couldn’t to her mother on paper. Her depression, her insomnia, her desire for death, her mourning, the need for sex with non-men, any form of physical connection, something—anything that made her feel human, normal.

She needed a fucking hug. A kiss. Sex. She wanted to fuck.

The first time she saw your artwork on an abandoned building as she chauffeured to the museum, she’d nearly fainted. 

It’d been two women on top of each other, the most intimate parts of their body covered with the other’s hands and skin. One had her head between the other’s legs atop blankets and flowers as the other… apparently in the middle of an orgasm. Her mother always made the point of sex sound so… stiff. Lifeless. Merely a factor of procreation.

But your art was so erotic. Sensual. So full of pleasure and softness and care. 

She’d almost jumped out of the car and onto oncoming traffic to get a closer look at every detail, but the car was too quick. She couldn’t even get a fucking picture. 

And she was soaking. How the fuck was she going to explore a museum when she was dripping like this?! 

You’d given her one of the strongest orgasms she’d ever had in her life when she returned home that day, and she didn’t even know who you were. She’d spent hours with her hand between her legs as she thought of your creation while her mother was out working, moaning and crying out as loud as she wanted, and she wasn’t even embarrassed. 

She would sneak out in the darkest clothes she had when her mother passed out on the couch, and just walk. Specifically in search for anything with your signature that she’d memorized like it was her own. She’d taken pictures of your content, memorized them, got off to the suggestive ones in secret, and appreciated your love and passion for your craft. 

She’d even started recreating her own depictions of eroticism. All with women. They never looked the same: different heights, all skin tones and body types, anything that she could think of, she drew it. She’d tried to envision what you looked like after only a few weeks, and she prayed her envisions were at least somewhat accurate. 

She never could draw self-portraits with precision, but she knew it was her. She was always in the middle of the raunchiness that she conjured up in her mind, being touched everywhere, tied up, beaten, completely ripped apart and forced to forget the suffocating world around her. Her reimagining's of herself would be drowned in pleasure, sometimes by you, by herself, by faceless strangers. Anything she wanted. 

When she saw you for the first time, she almost couldn’t control herself. 

She’d felt like a fucking creep as she ducked behind parked cars to watch you paint all over an abandoned freight train behind a trashed building. The streets had been silent as she watched you decorate the metal cart in floral interpretations of pussy, her heart in her throat. 

You looked gorgeous and focused and tired. So, so tired, only in sweats and a tank top with a hefty bag strapped to your back. She assumed you kept your art supplies in there.

Ellie couldn’t keep her eyes off you when she’d seen you during your court hearing. 

You were just as gorgeous as the first time she saw you, but, somehow, even more exhausted. Far away, not really present, but she couldn’t blame you. And she couldn’t stop staring, enthralled by you. Even in your grayest moments, you made her feel vibrant. And that brought her guilt.

But it also made her lustful. Hungry. 

And she couldn’t stop staring. 

When her mother dragged her out of the hearing, she was enraged, even more so when she degraded you on the way back to the car. 

You fucking stared at that whore the whole time!

Don’t ever, in your life, embarrass me again. 

I’ll throw you in the gutter with that rat if you ever disrespect me like you just did in there. Do you understand?

Ellie didn’t even know what she did to garner a response this aggressive, but she was used to it. And, for the first time in her life, she didn’t care. She didn’t give a fuck. 

At that moment, she knew what she had to do.

It was your fifth day in prison, and you felt nothing. 

You didn’t cry, you didn’t plead, you simply succumbed to your destiny in silence. Your father would be so disappointed if he were alive. 

I raised a fighter, so you fucking fight!

But you couldn’t. You were tired, and you wished you could stay asleep, never to wake up again.

You’ve been working like a dog since you got here, and you accepted it. This was your life, and you felt nothing. 

Until your cell unlocked. These fuckers were probably here to shit talk you again. 

They cuffed your wrists and led you somewhere. You didn’t care where, keeping your head down as they encased your arms in a calloused grasp. You hoped this location would be your last forever. 

They led you into an empty room and uncuffed you. You saw the old sweatsuit that you’d received from the shelter, and your heartbeat sped up. You looked at the security in confusion. What the fuck were they doing? What were they about to do?

You could barely hear what the officers were saying, jumbled words of bail bond and cash payments molding together and sounding like a foreign language to you. They undid your handcuffs and pointed towards the clothes, murmuring for you to change so they could transport you back to the courthouse to retrieve your belongings. 

What the fuck is going on?

When you returned to the shelter, you inspected your bag. After nearly scrubbing your skin off while showering. 

The contents were all in their original condition, each individual item wrapped in plastic with small notes attached to them. Except for your dick. You assumed the court had no comments. 

Your paint, your brushes, random hairpins, your notebooks. They were all there in their original condition. Thank god. 

What you didn’t expect to see was a new jacket, sweatsuit, and small note wrapped in the same plastic from inspection. 

You ripped the plastic open and retrieved the note, unfolding it and… confusion, arousal, and fear rushed through you, shocking your body as all your feelings shot down your spine. 

It was a sketch of… you. And a girl bent over with her hands bound behind her back as you fucked her. An… incredibly familiar looking girl. 

A freckled girl. A rosy-cheeked girl. The rosy-cheeked girl from a week ago with the psychotic, sadistic mother.

Her expression in the sketch was pure ecstasy. It looked like she was screaming, her cheeks shaded dark with water-paint and her hair a reddish-brown, thrown in all sorts of directions. Her eyes wild and erotic. Yearning. Teary. Her pleasure seemed dream-like.

And you looked just as gone. Head tossed back, sweaty with your dick shoved inside her pussy, your nails digging into the soft skin on her hips, small, but deep, bloody scratches following the painful glide of your fingertips that make the red blotches on her backside. There were small doodles of strap-ons and pussies smudged, erased, fixed to perfection that seemed almost manic. Obsessive. 

You looked at the bottom of the crumpled piece of paper, a small signature across the bottom of it. 

♡GIRLDICK♡

Come back home. Five days.

E.M.

… Come back home? You don’t have a fucking home. And who the fuck is E.M? Your heart was beating against your chest, climbing up your throat in an attempt to escape your body entirely. You couldn’t stop your eyes from flying across the sloppy penmanship. 

… ♡GIRLDICK♡

E.M.

M. 

♡GIRLDICK♡

M.

… Miller Enterprise. 

Miller. 

… Freckles. 

…. What in the fuck. 

It was almost dark, and you were shivering as the wind blew past you. 

It had been five days. 

You were eyeing the large building in front of you from across the street, a giant M slapped across the top of it, windows galore, hoodie on your head and trembling hands shoved in your pockets. 

You could see the last bit of employees trickling out of the building, clad in suits and tight pencil skirts, heavy briefcases and clicking heels. 

You could also see the fresh white and black paint covering where your spray-painted dick used to be, and it made you chuckle to yourself. You were almost tempted to recreate it with your new snagged bottle of acrylic. It supposedly glowed in the dark. 

But then you saw a dark shadow in the corner of your eye, hurriedly moving past the glass of the entrance. 

Your heart raced instantly at the thought of being discovered, and you followed the body's movement. You could see it was Ellie the closer she got to the glass, dressed in a black sweater and comfortable pants, and her same shoes from the court hearing. She looked antsy, a bit on edge, but curious. She was anticipating seeing you. 

You could see her messing with the keypad on the door, the loud sounds of locks clicking over the bustling streets. Flashes of red, swiftly replaced with flashes of green shined through the maxi-glass, and she looked around at all the doors. What was she checking for?

She seemed satisfied with her job, and she slid the entry door open, leaving it slightly ajar so she could slip something between it. 

She gave one last glance at the system before bolting back inside and down the lengthy hallway before all the hall lights shut off. 

Did she… did she just disable all the alarms for you? 

Now, you were the one anticipating meeting her. 

You ran across the street the second you got a chance, hurdling through traffic before running up onto the sidewalk and treading the stairs. 

You looked down and noticed two pens taped together, holding the door open. You picked them up and inspected them, a glossy, silver M near the gel tip. 

You stepped inside before anyone noticed, the door automatically shutting behind you before the same green lights came on, a robotic voice confirming that the doors were locked.

You were inside the Miller Enterprise, and you were terrified.

Ellie was so nervous. 

She’d been checking her Chanel watch all day, obsessively monitoring the windows to see if anyone that resembled your form had arrived, but she was disappointed every time she looked. No sign of you, yet.

The later it got, the more anxious she became. Did you see the note she left in your bag? Was it too forward? Did you think she was fucking crazy? Did you hate her for what her mother did? She prayed not. 

She was currently pacing around her mother’s—father’s—dark office, every step of her shoes echoing in the nearly empty room. She hasn’t been in here since she was seventeen, and it brought just as much anxiety as it did the first time. 

This will all be yours when I’m gone, don’t fucking ruin it. 

She hated everything about this space. Every aspect of her dad was completely gone. All his pictures, his vinyl, his pens and pencils, his nameplate. Everything. All of it, completely void of emotion. 

She hated it, she hated it. 

But then she heard a clang in the hallway, and her anxiety picked up even more before she could process it. 

She quickly made her way over to the exit, peeking her head through the doorframe and examining the hallway, searching for you. The noise had to be you! You really came! She could feel her nipples getting hard already.

But she saw no one. No one was in the dark hallway. 

… Fuck.

Why did she shut the system off? The lights wouldn’t come on!

Her hands instantly got clammy, her heart racing, and her knees shook. She hadn't felt like this since she was a kid, and she was horrified.

Someone’s here to hurt you, someone’s going to come in and hurt you!

You never leave doors unlocked! He always said to lock your doors, never, never, never—

She couldn’t stop the intrusive thoughts from taking over her entire body, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her father’s switchblade, pressing its latch down to expose the blade. She slammed the door shut and walked over to the large window and tried to steady her breathing. She looked out of the glass and inhaled harshly. 

Keep your grip tight when you strike! 

Calm down calm down calm down—

“Boo.” 

You saw Ellie jump with a hard gasp before spinning to face you, a fearful look on her face and her switchblade in hand, pointed edge towards you. 

You could see her chest rise up and down with every shaky breath she took, her body trembling and cheeks flushed. You felt like your body was going to burst into flames, but you hid it, grinning slyly at her as you stepped forward. 

Deep breath. 

“Hi, Ellie.”

Another step forward. She took two back, nearly pressed against the glass. 

“Y-You,” she stuttered as her eyes darted around nervously, and you could see her cheeks flushing in the darkness, “How’d you get in here?” 

“I think you know how.” 

You shrugged, the contents of your bag shuffling on your back. You pointed towards the large, stretched windows behind her that oversaw the entire city, the hustling streets and lights beaming into the dimly lit room from the last bits of sunset. 

“View’s incredible,” your mockery littered in sarcasm. Don’t let her know you’re scared. 

She took a bold step forward as her brows furrowed, anger twisting on her doll-like face. You took two, as well. You saw her eyes dart to your feet before meeting your gaze to hiss at you.

“There’re cameras on every floor of this fucking building! I press that button,” She darted her small knife towards the enclosed, red button on the side of the wall, a large print of EMERGENCIES ONLY directly above it. “And every cop in this city’ll show up and take your ass back to the fucking gutter where you’re supposed to be.” 

… How the fuck was she going to threaten you when she told you to come here?! What was she playing at?

She pointed her weapon back at you. You ignored your confusion and raised an impressed brow before walking forward without pause, pulling her mother’s chair out from under the desk, the wheels squeaking against the marbled tile. You saw the grip she had on her knife tighten. 

You smiled at her. “You’re pretty good with a knife, honey.” 

“Fuck you. Don’t fucking call me that.”

“I dunno,” you scoffed, twirling on your heels as you took in the luxurious space around you. “I can bet my bottom ass dollar that you like it.” 

Her glare hardened, and your smile brightened. You finally moved to sit in the chair, the plush leather molding against your body and stuffed backpack. You scooted back under the desk and rested your elbows on the hand-carved rosewood, completely calm. At least outwardly. Your insides were jittery from adrenaline. 

You quickly inspected the contents of the desk: her mother’s matching rosewood nameplate, some loose paperwork with large sums of money scattered on them, dark pens and markers, and a signed restraining order. With your name on it. 

You’re apparently not allowed a hundred feet within the perimeter of the building. 

… Funny. 

“Press it.” 

Her scowl hardened, “What?” 

You pointed a lax finger towards the button as you looked up from the document, “I said press it. You want me gone so bad, right?” 

She didn’t reply, her fingers fidgeting around the knife as she adjusted her grip. Her eyes nervously flitted across the room, all over the white floors, back on you. 

“You’re not gonna press the fucking button.” You spat with a devilish smile. “And I know why.” 

“Fuck you, you don’t know sh— “

“You paid my bail.” 

You heard her release a shaky exhale when you sliced through her words, her eyes widening in shock like she saw through you, and you knew you had her. Your smile widened as your nails pattered where you tapped on the desk. 

“Uh huh. Why’d you do it?” 

Her throat moved as she swallowed, and you almost laughed. 

You reached into your jacket pocket and pulled out the piece of paper that kept you company in your small cot during your restless nights, unfolding it and holding up the explicit depiction that she left in your bag days ago. You pressed her as you swung the chair with your foot, “Think somebody’s got a little crush. Mommy’s gonna be so upset with you.” 

“FUCK YOU!” She marched towards you until she was in front of the desk, her scent enclosing around you before you felt the incredibly sharp blade against the side of your neck, and you stiffened in terror. You looked at her in shock, studying her expression. She looked pissed, but you saw… something in her eyes that made your core squeeze tight. 

It was vulgar, needy, and you hoped she missed your body’s excited shudder at her crude rage. 

She didn’t. Curiosity shone behind her lust and fiery, her enraged shrieks shook your eardrums. 

“You’re fucking worthless! You really think anyone’s gonna care about you rotting in a fucking cell?! You’re… you’re nothing! You’re a low life! You’re… you’re! —“

You deadened your own eyes as you slowly moved to stand, but she pressed the knife deeper into your skin as she leaned over the desk, your faces closer together. You stiffened and felt a sting on your skin, and a drop of wetness. Your pussy squeezed, and you could feel sweat looking under your jacket. 

“Gonna kill me, Ellie?” You glared at her, your heart pounding with fear and exhilaration. 

Say you want me. Say it, sayitsayitsayit!

Her eyes were vengeful as she scanned your face, but you saw that glint grow behind the harsh overcast. Something you craved just as badly as she did. 

“Really want mommy to see her precious girl killing somebody on camera? Hm?” 

“She,” her breath shuddered. “wouldn’t give a fuck if it were you, I promise.” 

You barely whispered your reply as you leaned even closer, your nipples hardening under your sports bra and your underwear clinging to your wetness. 

“Then do it.”

The heavy breaths she released hit your face in a burning wind, and your core tightened once more. You could see the aggression on her face slowly dissipate, that giddy sparkle in her eye overtaking her pupils as they darkened. 

You felt the cold steel pull away from you slowly, her hand coming down on the desk, — unfortunate— and it threw you into action.

Your hand flew up to her throat and squeezed the sides, and you heard the clatter of the object as it hit the wood. You heard her suck in a choked breath as her eyes glossed over, suddenly desperate and wanton and scared like you’d been seconds before. She looked like a neglected kitten, and it made you hold her neck in tighter constriction. 

She whimpered aloud as she attempted to gasp, her hand coming up to grab your wrist, but you snatched it away with your free hand, and it limply dropped to the desk, her body submitting. 

You leaned in closer to her, and her eyes squeezed shut, lips puckered, silently begging for you to kiss her. You snickered. 

You let her neck go and slammed your palm across her blushing cheek, a loud crack! filling the room. 

She cried aloud, looking like she was about to burst into tears as she jumped off the desk and backed away from you, her hand pressed against her searing cheek. You rose to your feet and circled around the desk, rushing towards her until she was pressed up against the window. Tears were running down her face. You shoved her closer against the glass, grabbing her cheeks to force her to look at you. 

“You’ve been watching me, haven’t you? I got a little fan, is that it?” 

“N-No— “

“Yeah, I do. Fuckin’ stalker. Probably gotta whole shrine t’me in your fucking room. Does mommy know that you worship me? The lowlife who fucked up her building?” You snapped at her.

She flinched at your tone before she choked out a gasped sob, “I j-just liked what you m-made.”

“Stop crying, Ellie.”

She nodded as she sniffled, wiping the tears off her cheeks. You grasp loosened on her cheeks as you cupped her face, your thumb brushing away the wetness on her already bruising skin. You noticed how she leaned into your caress. It made your heart jolt.

“Look at me,” you whispered. 

She hesitantly met your eyes. 

“You wanna kiss me?”

She looked down at her shuffling feet, and you saw her fist clench. 

“Answer me.” 

“Y-Yes, wanna kiss. Just… just one?”

You hummed in satisfaction, inching closer towards her like you did previously. She stiffened but shut her eyes tightly, her plush lips poking out in a pucker once more as your noses touched. You chuckled and whispered, your lips brushing against hers as you spoke. 

“You ever kissed anyone, baby?”

She sighed out an uneven nuh uh, her mouth chasing yours. You grinned wider.

“Oh? M’gonna be your first kiss?” 

She whined out a needy uh huuuh! 

You stuck your tongue out, slowly running the wet muscle over her lower lip, and you felt her whole body tremble against yours. She brainlessly stuck her tongue out to lick yours, but you pulled back. She tried to follow you, but you yanked her head back by the small bun at the back of her head, the soft strands curling around your fist. 

She let out a moan, and your tongue licked up her exposed throat, leaving a trail of spit up her chin, all the way to her mouth. 

You relented and connected your mouths, and she let out a shocked noise into your mouth. You slipped your tongue in her gaping mouth, wet, smacking noises filling the room as you kissed her hotly. She couldn’t keep up with your quick movements, her lips and tongue moving sloppily against yours. Her spit was all over the outside of your mouth. 

You felt her hands come up to your hips to grip your jacket in a tight fist as she moaned into your mouth. 

The noises she let out were so sweet: little, excited gasps and whiny keens as she tried to pull you closer. 

You released her hair and grabbed her chin to move her head to the side. You kissed down her neck, and she jerked against you. Her breaths increased in pace as you pecked her sweaty skin, lapping your tongue all over the side.

You sucked into the skin under her ear, right under her jaw, pulling her sweater down to mark her collarbone. 

“Pleeease, pleaseplease, ah— “

You mumbled in between gentle sucks, “What, Ellie? Talk.” 

You felt her hands grab your hips tighter, but she said nothing. You pushed her hands off you roughly and looked at her with piercing eyes. She shrunk into herself when she met them. 

“When I tell you to do something, you do it. You understand?” 

She nodded quickly. 

“So fucking talk,” you gritted out. 

“Want,” she whispered with a sharp gasp. “Want you.” 

You smirked, “You want me?”

“Mmhm!”

You shoved your backpack off your shoulders, the thud echoing when it hit the floor. 

“Want me to do what?”

She paused before looking down at her feet again, twiddling and picking at her fingers as her face burned red. 

“Um…” 

You rolled your eyes and turned away from her, but you felt her hand grab your wrist and you stopped. You looked at her in annoyance. 

She looked at you tentatively, her breathing shaky. 

But then she slowly brought your hand in between her legs. 

She shivered as she placed her hand on top of yours, making you rub her cunt back and forth. She released pleased sighs as her lashes fluttered, her head falling back against the window as she looked at you up and down. 

“P-Please?” She licked her lips. “Wan’you here.”

You scoffed in shock, and her thighs squeezed down on both your hands. You pressed your palm closer against her, and her hips bucked into you. 

You moved closer to her, your clothed chests pressed together. 

“Move your hand,” you spoke quietly, just for her to hear even though you were alone.

She dropped it limply. You pressed your palm into her covered clit, and she moaned. 

You leaned in, your lips brushing her cheek as you spoke.

“Baby just wanted her pussy touched? That’s why you acted out earlier?”

She didn’t speak as she panted heavily. You brought your hand up to slap her cheek again, and she released a pained cry as her hips twitched. 

“Talk!”

“Yes! Needa… need t’be touched!”

“Tell me where.” You brought your hand back down to her pussy as fresh tears slid down her cheeks. 

She sobbed. “A-Anywhere!”

You leered at her soft face. “Yeah? I get t’choose?” 

She nodded quickly, her eyes screaming touch me, please! Make me cum!

“Open your mouth, honey. Stick your tongue out.”

She mewled softly, but did what you asked, her shiny, pink muscle glistening under the beaming city lights. 

You brought your hand up, rubbing your index and middle finger on her soft tongue. 

“Get ‘em wet.”

She hummed as she sucked them into her mouth with no hesitation. You felt her tongue messily swirl around your digits as she sighed contently, and you pressed an encouraging peck on her cheek. 

You slowly fucked your fingers in, pulling them out, only to push them back in again. You almost awwed aloud when she chased your digits every time you pulled out. She was already drooling for them. 

You pressed her tongue down as you fucked in, and she gagged on them. Her eyes shot open and they instantly watered, her throat tightening around you. 

“Bet you suck a mean dick,” you muttered before you could stop yourself. 

She moaned loudly as you fucked deeper into her mouth, pressing down on the back of her tongue. 

“Oh, yeah? Want mine down that pretty throat?”

She garbled and nodded as much as she could with your fast thrusts in her mouth. You couldn’t wait to fuck it open. 

“Snooped through my shit, didn’t you? Saw my fucking cock and creamed yourself? That’s why you bought me new shit?”

You saw her bring a hand down to touch her pussy, her hips bucking into her own hand, chasing any stimulation. You grabbed her wrist and pulled it away from her. 

You finally eased up on her throat and pulled out completely, lines of slobber connecting your fingers and her mouth together. You cut them with your own tongue, her spit clinging to the edges of your mouth. 

You planted a smacking kiss on her lips before you shoved your hand down her dark, flared pants and into her boxers. 

She squealed when you immediately found her clit with your spit covered fingers, the slippery bud sliding between your already drippy fingers. You watched her hand fly to the white windowsill for balance as your hand went wild on her cunt. 

“Such a wet fucking pussy. Feels good, baby?”

Her brows creased as she nodded, her body rocking with your movements. “A-Ah! —“ 

“Uh huh. You touch yourself like this when mommy’s at work? Hm?”

Her head shamefully jerked in confirmation. You could see her now: her pretty legs spread on her plush bed, her sopping pussy squeezing at the thought of you fucking her just how she needed. She’d be grabbing at her tits as she flicked her clit, desperate to cum all over her blankets for you. Your pussy was so wet. 

“You think about me when you do it?” You knew the answer, but you needed her to say it. Confirm that she thought about you just as much as you thought about her. 

“Yes! Yes, yes!”

“Fucking whore, no wonder she hates your guts.”

She moaned louder at your degradation. “S’c—coming! “

Your fingers were practically vibrating on her cunt, her clit thumping as her orgasm built. “Get my fingers nice’n sloppy, angel, c’mon— “

She reached down to grab your wrist as she jumped on your fingers, but before you could slap her, her body tensed, and her eyes rolled into her skull. You felt her clit pulsate under your touch, and you knew she was cumming.

“Fuckmemommy!”

You couldn’t stop the shock that appeared on your face as you watched her thrash on your hand, gasping out, asking you to please fuck me, mommy! Need you to fuck me!

You just massaged her through it, pressing your hips up against hers so she couldn’t run from your touch. 

“Wan’mommy to fuck you, angel?” you mumbled in your daze as your pussy dripped, your brain barely registering what you just said.

“Yespleasepleaseplease, gimme— “

“Fuck, baby, need mommy inside you?” Your heart was pounding in your ears. 

“M-Mhhm!—“

“Gimme your leg,” You lifted it up with your free hand, bringing it up so it came around your waist.

You slid your fingers down to her twitchy entrance and slipped the tip of your pointer finger inside. You almost moaned at how her walls clung to you, sucking you in deeper, milking you.

“Tightest fuckin’ pussy,” you mumbled to her, and she whimpered when your finger arched inside her. You prodded around until she slumped against you, pushing her hips down on your finger. You leaned in, your lips brushing her ear as you cooed right there? yeah? feels fuckin’ good?

She couldn’t even speak. She just plopped her head onto your shoulder and sloppily kissed your neck. Your cunt clenched and you flinched when her soft tongue licked into the small slit she made earlier. You heard her hum as her tongue swiped a line from your collarbone to your cut; She was licking your blood up like a fucking dog!

It made you punch that spot in her harder, and she cried out against your skin, her nails digging into your forearm. 

You slowly pushed your middle finger in, and she sobbed as she stretched around you. You arched your thumb out to rub her clit as you poked that spongy spot in her pussy; She was so loud for you. 

“Like when I touch you there?” 

“I like it, like it s’much!” You felt her nodding mindlessly against you.

“Gonna cum on me again?” you spat at her. 

“Fuck yes!” 

“Know you’re gonna cum hard, can’t even fuck you like I wanna, squeezing me so tight.”

You dug your fingers as deep and fast into her as her cunt would allow. Her walls were choking the fuck out of you, practically screaming for them to stay where you were pressed inside her. How the fuck was she going to take you fully?!

The thought of breaking her open made you shake, “Gonna make this pussy take me. Can’t wait t’give you this fucking dick.”

Then she started screaming out for you, trying to get you closer, wrapping her arms around you, her leg dropping onto the floor. “Ohgodohgodohgod, m’cumming, mommy, I’mcu—AH!”

You almost fell back when she went limp on you, her knees buckling as her slick coated your fingers, your palm, her panties. You used your weight to push her back against the window, her head thudding against the glass like before, but she seemed too engulfed in her desire to care. You almost brought your hand up to comfort her sore spot, anyway, but you stopped yourself. 

You took her in: practically dangling off you as she wailed from orgasm, her face beat red, the bun at the back of her head almost loose, her eyelids fluttering. You sneered at her, a nasty grin on your face. 

“Atta girl, so excited for cock, ain’t she?”

She could only grind out yesyesyes between her teeth, her fingers still squeezing down on you as you rubbed her clit, her orgasm slowing down. 

“You gotta make me cum first, m’kay?” 

“W’na make… mommy cum!” she nodded like a bobblehead as she slurred. 

“Yeah? Want mommy’s cum in your mouth?”

She wept desperately, “Yes, please, need it!”

You grinned, catching a glimpse of your desperate reflection in the mirror. You’re so glad she was too fucked out to notice.

“C’mon, honey.” 

Ellie stood in front of you as you sat in her mother’s chair, her shoes kicked off. 

Your bag was tossed next to you as you stared at her, noting her fidgeting stance. She wasn’t looking at you, at all. She was looking down, specifically at your occupied hands. 

You’d picked up her discarded knife from the table, inspecting its rusty, scratched design, slightly bloody blade, retraction. You couldn’t stop fiddling with it. 

“W-What’re gonna do with that?” You heard her ask. 

You ignored it. “Where’d you get it?”

“It was my dad’s.” Her voice went sharp. 

“What kinda father lets his baby play with such sharp objects?” You said in between sarcastic snickers. 

“He’s fucking dead, who cares.” 

You finally looked up at her sharp tone, examining her tense face, and your playful smile slowly dropped. She tried to appear as if mentioning it didn’t bother her, but you recognized that look in her eye from anywhere. Grief fucking sucks, no matter how much time passed.

“… Hm.” 

You looked down at the blade again, then back up at her, “He taught you how to… handle it?” 

She shrugged, her brows raising as her arms crossed over her chest. You nodded. 

Your arm was suddenly incredibly itchy. “Mine taught me how to… draw n’stuff.” 

You looked off to the side awkwardly as you reminisced on the first pack of colored pencils he’d bought you. You remembered how particular he was about the art utensils and their conditions. You didn’t realize that he was trying to ensure their quality because he couldn’t afford another pack until you got older.

Always make sure these bastards are sharpened! That’s true precision!

“… Cool,” you heard her say, and you looked at her, “Were you guys, uh, close?” 

“Mhm,” You nodded stiffly, and silence surrounded the two of you. Ellie awkwardly nodded as she stared at the floor, and your lips twitched before you turned to stare out the window.

Some time passed in pure silence before you heard her speak. 

“… Still wanna, uh… D’you still wanna fuck?” 

You looked at her as she fumblingly scratched the back of her head. Her eyes met yours as her ears burned. You grinned as your shoulders rose.

“Up to you.” 

“Like… I still wanna if you do,” She nibbled on her bottom lip. 

You leaned back in her mom’s seat. 

“Ellie.” 

The deep tone of your voice made her look up, her eyes shining like crystals as her arms dropped to her sides. 

“Yes?” 

“… C’mere.” 

She moved, her sock-covered feet padding on the floor until she was in front of you. 

You looked up at her, your hand coming up to play with the hem of her sweater. 

You spoke softly, “Off. C’mon.” 

She grabbed the back of her top and lifted it over her head, her bare chest jiggling with her movements. She tossed the fabric to the floor. 

You eyed her chest like you were going to swallow her whole, her perky nipples urging you to reach out and pull on them. Her pussy is so fucking sensitive; Were her nipples just as bad? Worse? Could she cum just from you touching them? Fuck, she probably could—

“Are they… Do you like them?” 

Her soft whisper cut through your gawking. You met her eyes through your lashes as she squirmed in front of you. 

Your hands came up to grab her hips, massaging them gently. 

“Yeah, baby. They’re so pretty, fit you perfectly.” 

She sighed in content, “T-Thank you.” 

You planted a soft kiss to her tummy as you looked at your thumb around the elastic of her pants to pull them down. 

Her stomach jerked with every sharp breath as your lips moved on her bare skin. You felt her hand come up to your shoulder to grasp it as she stepped out of her pants. 

Your hands traveled upward to grab both her tits in a rough squeeze. She wheezed and arched her back so you could get closer. You heard her murmur a quiet fuckme, and you looked up. She was watching your every move with wide, curious eyes. You held her gaze as you licked up her torso, and she whimpered. 

You brought your hands back down to grab the back of her thighs, moving her closer to your lap. She placed her hands on your shoulders as she climbed on top of you, and you sucked her nipple into your mouth. 

She grinded down onto you and moaned, and your eyes fluttered shut. Your tongue made circular movements on the pert bud, and you hummed at the taste of her soft skin. Her head fell forward as she gasped right in your ear, and it made you suck on her hard. 

Her hips were jerking on top of you, trying to fuck down onto your clothed thigh as her nails plunged into your back. 

“Feels so… mmh!”

You brought your hand back up to her other tit and played with her nipple with your fingers. 

And then you slapped it. Hard. 

She let out a sharp squeak and mindlessly bounced on top of your leg; You could feel a slight dampness building on your jeans, and you scoffed at her, sneering when you pulled away. You hit her other tit just as hard, your spit transferring onto your palm. 

“Ah! Fuckfuckfu— “

Smack!

“Yes!”

SMACK!

She squealed. “M’gonna cum!”

You reached up to slap her face before pulling her hair to the side with a tight fist. 

You quickly grabbed her switchblade off the desk and unlatched the blade, the sharp edge popping up. You instantly pressed it to her neck, and she choked on a ragged pant. 

The lust in her eyes was accompanied by fear, and you grinned. 

“Don’t get scared now. You were waving it around earlier. So ready to fight, huh?” 

She shuddered, rutting down on your leg again, and you pressed the sharp edge into her skin harder. Her eyes shut tight, and two fat tears fell down her cheeks. She nearly bounced on you. 

“I could fuck you up right here, you know that, right?” 

“Please, mommy, needa cu—!”

You moved the knife away and released her hair, slapping her in the face again. “Shut the fuck up, you nearly slit my fuckin’ throat and now you wanna fuck. I should leave right now, fucking brat.”

She sobbed, “Nonono, please don’t leave, mommy don’t go, m’sorryI’m— “

“Mommy, don’t go!” you mocked. “Get on your fuckin’ knees.” 

You kept the blade pressed against her jugular as she clumsily shuffled to the floor, her cries shaking her body. 

“You wanna apologize?” She nodded jerkily, minding the silver edge on her vein.

“Yeah? Wanna make mommy feel better?” You said with a mean pout. 

“Mhm!”

You sloppily kicked your boots off and shoved them under the desk. 

“Take m’pants off, baby. C’mon.”

She moved quickly, unbuttoning and tugging your jeans and underwear down your legs as she sniffled. She yanked them off with a hard tug, and her eagerness made you giggle as you lifted your hips. You unzipped your jacket and pulled it off your shoulders, tossing it to the floor, leaving you in your black tank top. You could’ve sworn you saw a glimpse of a grin on her face as she eyed your breasts before she dived towards your cunt. 

You shoved the knife closer against her, and you saw blood pool at the edge of the blade. She looked up at you with an anxious expression. 

“I didn’t say you could touch me. Ask nicely.” 

She looked confused as she mumbled brokenly, “Ask you what?”

Your brows furrowed at her, “My mistake. You probably never had to ask for shit in your life.” 

Her bruised cheeks glowed red as she looked down in embarrassment. 

You grinned slyly. “Say, mommy, may I eat your pussy, please?” 

Shock overtook her expression before she rolled her eyes at you and looked to the side.

“You’re fucking cra— “

You yanked her dark hair back and pointed the end of the blade against her bruised jaw. Her ragged breaths hit your face.

“Say it.” 

“Y-You're not gonna hurt me,” she stated unsteadily. 

“You don’t know shit about me, and even if I did hurt you, you’d want it. Admit it.” 

She avoided your gaze and her lips quivered. 

You continued. “You’d let me do anything I want because you’re disgusting. A filthy fucking slut with a silver spoon in her mouth.”

You huffed at her with a frown. “And you like girls. You’d be just as worthless as I am in her eyes if she found out.” 

You nodded over to her mother’s nameplate, and her eyes shut like she was a child getting scolded for stealing candy at the store. 

“I’m right, baby? You don’t want a husband? Don’t wanna get bred for the empire like she wants?”

She shamefully shook her head as tears fell down her face. You didn’t even know if she was in that circumstance or not, but by her reaction, it seemed to cut her deep. You ignored the searing pain in your chest.

“Mhm, so,” you turned her head so she could look at you, her red eyes burning through yours. “Something you wanna ask me?” 

Her mouth dropped open in submission.

“M-Mommy, may I… May I eat your pussy, please?” 

You smiled in satisfaction, placing a gentle kiss on her wet forehead. 

“Yes, baby, you may.” 

You pulled the knife away from her and set it on the desk, grabbing her chin to plant a kiss to her mouth. She whined happily into yours. 

You pulled back and adjusted your position, leaning back with your legs spread, the underside of your knees hooked into the armrests of the seat, your cunt on full display for her. Your sopping pussy was right next to her face, and you saw her eyes flutter in delight. 

“Want me t’show you how?” 

She nodded intensely. 

You brushed away the flyaway hairs on her forehead, your hand planted on the back of her head. 

“Spit on my clit, babe. Get it nice n’wet.” 

She released a glob of spit right onto your pulsing bud,

and you sighed as it dribbled down to your hole. You tilted her head back, remnants of slobber collecting on her chin. You gathered spit in your mouth and pulled her lower lip down, her mouth falling open. You spat onto her tongue, and she moaned, tilting her head down to spit it out all over your pussy. You bit your lip so hard; you almost drew blood.

You reached down and spread your lips, your throbbing clit poking through. You could see her trembling as she eyed you. 

“Wanna taste, Ellie?”

“Yeah, please, mommy,” she choked out. 

“Lick me, then, honey.” 

She wasted no time, the tip of her tongue circling around the nub instantly. Your mouth fell open at the sensation. The pink muscle was so soft, the licks slow and gentle, barely there. 

“Doing so good, baby, take your time,” you sighed out. 

She keened at your praise; her lashes flitted like butterfly wings in Spring as she rubbed your clit in deep licks. 

“Fuck, Ellie, s’so sensitive,” she whined against you, eyes begging for your approval as she watched your expression. You caressed her burning cheek with your pointer finger, and she licked deeper.

“Fuck, baby, that’s it, making me so happy,” her eyes rolled shut as she tongued you, sliding her tongue all over your pussy in slow strokes. 

You moaned out every time she came up to lap at your clit. You guided her head down to your hole, and her tongue slipped inside, slurping up all your slick. You were gasping her name out as her tongue wiggled inside you, swirling all over your walls. 

“Such a good girl, fuck, El!” you groaned out as wet sounds filled the room. “Wanna make mommy cum?”

She hummed excitedly and nodded, her tongue moving back up to massage your clit. You tightened her grip on her head, forcing it to move back and forth her hums shaking your clit. 

She moved her head faster against you when she sucked your clit into her mouth, and your head fell back against the chair as your eyes rolled back. Your thighs were shaking, toes curled as you squealed out encouragement. You needed to cum, she was going to make you cum!

“Get me there, pretty, m’— gonna make me fuckin’ cum— “

“Wan’mommy’s cum, please?” she sloppily murmured against you. 

“Gonna get it, baby, m’right there! —“

She was fully moaning all over your clit, “Gonna fuck you so good, angel, fuck yes!”

You peeled your eyes open and looked back down at her when she released your clit to moan aloud. Her drool and your pussy juice were all over her pink lips as she sighed and whimpered in pleasure. You couldn’t see what she was doing, but her forearm was moving frantically as quiet shhlcks filled the room. 

“Ellie.”

“Mommym’gonnacum— “

“I swear to g— “

“S’so wet, oh god, please!” 

SMACK!

Her head flew onto your thigh at your hard slap to her face, and she screamed out as her body tensed up. You watched her with a scowl as she squealed out m’cummimgsohardmommy against your skin, a puddle of drool forming on your skin. 

You yanked her hand out of her boxers, and she whined in protest as her orgasmed died, her hips bucking back into the air. You stood up, pulling her up by her waist and bending her over the desk, holding her down by her neck. 

“Stop fucking with me, Ellie.” You pulled her boxers down under her ass, taking in the sight of her still pulsating cunt and her twitchy ass. 

She spat at you over her shoulder, “Or wha— “

SMACK!

She groaned out in pain against the wood when your hand connected with her asscheek in a fiery slap, your hand burning. 

“Motherfuc— “

SMACK! 

You hit her and hit her. And hit her again. And again. Until she was jerking away from you, her hips bucking against the desk and your handprints covering her ass in a cherry-red tint. 

You don’t even remember how many times you slapped her, but she was sobbing out apologies against the desk, asking for your forgiveness over her tears.

“You done fucking around?” Your hand felt like it was in flames when you dropped it on the desk.

“Yesyes, mommy, I won’t—sob— won’t fuck up again!” 

“I was actually gonna eat your pussy out,” you scoffed out nastily, and she only cried harder at the insinuation that you weren’t anymore. “You don’t want that, you don’t want me fucking nice.” 

You pulled away and walked towards your discarded

bag on the floor, digging through it and pulling your dick out, stepping into and adjusting the straps as you watched her bruised ass jiggle with each wail. 

Your dick stood up as you walked back over to her. You gave her one last hard slap on her marked ass and pulled her up by her arm, shoving her onto her knees in front of you so she was trapped between you and the desk. 

You could see her wiping away tears, but you grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at you. 

“You want dick so bad? Get it wet so I can fuck you.” 

Shock appeared on her face.

“Y-You’re gonna fuck me with that?” You watched her inspect the size of you. The length, the girth, all the ridges. Her breathing got heavier the longer she stared.

“Now you’re fucking scared, really, Ellie?”

“I’m not sca— “

“Talk back again, and I’m leaving. You’re getting on my fucking nerves.” 

She glared at you, but looked down, straight at your tip, then back at you. 

And then she spit on it, a fat glob of saliva dribbling down the sides of your cock. Her hand came up to wrap around the base, rubbing her spit into the silicone. She held eye contact with you as she stuck her tongue out. You reached down and placed your hand on top of hers, slapping your tip on her slobbery muscle. 

“Good fucking whore, good n’sloppy,” you let go to pat her still-red cheek with a heavy hand, and her pretty eyes hardened, her blush deepening. She dropped her mouth open, her lips curling on the tip as she sucked on it. You bit your lip as you watched her tongue swirl around you.

She moaned around the silicone, her eyes filthy. Her hand spread her spit up all over you as she took in your inches slowly, jerking you off and slobbering on you at the same time. She looked like a fucking pornstar, like she practiced for this, like she wanted to impress you, and you shook like you could actually feel her mouth. Your pussy was desperate to cum, but you pushed it aside and watched her. 

She released you with a wet pop, her tongue flicking around your tip like she was lapping at your cum, and you couldn’t stop the moan that left your mouth. 

“Nasty slut, goddamn— “

She smiled like you just called her the prettiest girl in the world before sucking you back in, her head bobbing up and down as she slurped you up. There was so much spit on your length that it started dripping onto the floor.

You bucked forward, your hips moving on autopilot, and she choked on you, her hand coming up to your thigh to squeeze it. You ignored her grasp and fucked into her mouth harder, pinning both her arms above her head on the desk. She gargled around your dick, and you could only imagine the tightness of her throat with each gag. 

“What, baby? Don’t like it? Want me t’stop?” You gritted out. And you thrusted deeper. She moaned and her mouth opened wider.

She was making wet noises around you, her head thudding against the top drawer of the desk when you fucked in. You fucked your entire cock down her throat, and she gagged hard. 

You pulled out and let her go.

She fell forward and coughed hard, her drool pooling down on the eggshell floors as she choked. You watched in irritation as she heaved.

“Get up,” her gasps slowed as she breathed in deeply, and she lifted her head to glare at you from her hunched position. 

“Get up.” 

“Fuck you,” she spluttered.

“I’m gonna. Get up.”

Despite her bitterness, she slowly stood and instantly bent over the desk with her scarred ass poked out towards you. You chuckled when you saw both her holes pulse in excitement.

“That’s how it is?” you slapped her asscheek, and her hips bucked back against your hand. 

“Uh huh,” you heard her crackly mumble dazedly. “Need you t’make me cum.”

“Seemed alright doing it yourself a few minutes ago.”

She ignored you, and you smirked, “Need your cock, mommy, pleeease, please— “

You reached out, running two fingers over her drenched slit, and she pressed back on them as she sighed in pleasure. You slowly slid your fingers down to her clit, and she moaned aloud, her thighs jerking. 

“Look at this fucking pussy, jesus.” 

“I-It’s pretty?”

“Yeah, baby, fuck,” your mouth watered when you saw her walls clench. “Can’t even be mad, you’re so fucking hot.”

“Then fuck me,” she whined out sweetly, looking at you over her shoulder. 

You leaned down until you were eye level with her pussy, her walls squelching and squeezing repeatedly. You bit your lip and kitty-licked her cunt, her slick painting your taste buds as her smell surrounded you, and she jumped at the feeling. 

“Taste like fucking honey.” 

“So do you, made me so wet,” she exhaled as she shivered in anticipation. 

“S’gonna hurt,” you whispered, more to yourself as you eyed her tightness. 

“Don’t care.” She pushed back on your face.

“Put your hands behind your back. Don’t move them.” 

She shuddered and obeyed instantly, her hands overlapping at the wrists at the small of her back. 

You pressed one last kiss to her pussy before standing upright, “You move your hands, I stop.”

“Not gonna move, mommy,” she whispered in between unsteady breaths. “Make me feel good, please. Please, please.”

“Shh. Got you, baby. Open your legs,” you caressed her back and she squirmed. You felt goosebumps rise all over her skin, and you smirked.

The gap between her thighs widened even more for you, her cunt on full display. You could hear her beckoning you to pop the tip inside her in tiny, desperate whispers, and it made your core clench. 

You inched closer to her until the back of her thighs pressed against the front of yours. You wrapped a hand around your wet dick and brought it up to her slit, soaking it in her gooey slick and sliding it between her silky lips. Her cunt was already soaking your entire length and you didn’t even fuck her yet. She was subtly pushing back on you, trying to get you inside her. 

You heard the enthusiasm in her voice when she keened, “Mommy, please, it’s right there!”

“Mhm, I know, I see it,” you mumbled wetly, her gooey cunt looked so pretty under the light of the city, shining like glitter.

“Making mommy so wet baby, such a pretty girl,” you brought your cock back up to her slit and pushed forward, slowly popping the tip in her snug opening. She squealed loudly, and you saw her fists clench at the end of her spine as her walls clung to you, pulling you in.

“Yesyesyes, oh god, mommy, fuck, uh huh!”

“Yeah, baby? It hurts?” 

“Nooo, feels s’good, oh shit! —“

You slowly pushed in another inch, gauging her reaction for any discomfort, your thumb moving on her hip softly. She tried to push back to take you deeper, but you held her hips down.

“Fuck mefuckmefuckme— “

“Gonna be my good girl, baby? Gonna take it nice’n deep?” 

“Yeah, mommy!”

You pushed in even deeper, and you could feel the resistance of her cunt the more you slid in. You couldn’t stop the moan you released when she said your name. 

“Y-You’re splitting me open, ffuck— “

You pressed in the last bit of your dick, her ass resting at the top of your thighs, your hands propping you up on the desk as you leaned above her, placed on either side of her head. She was sighing heavily in satisfaction, and you could see her glossy eyes rolling. 

“Feelin’ good?”

She nodded slowly, “U-Use me, mommy, please use me t’cum, fuck.”

“Gotta take care of my girl first,” you fucked out of her slowly before snapping your hips, fucking all your inches back into her, and she screamed. “Such a tight pussy.”

You bent down to kiss her pretty back, down her spine as you stroked her deeply. You’d barely completed your fourth stroke before you felt Ellie tense up under you, her body shuddering as she moaned quietly to herself. You snickered at her. 

“Baby’s cumming?” you licked up her spine again. 

You could only see her nod in jerky headshakes from where you stood, her cheek pressed against the desk. You looked down at where you were connected, and you could see how her walls struggled to choke your dick. You grabbed her wrists in one hand and fucked her through her orgasm, your free hand sneaking under her hips to rub her clit. 

The second her body relaxed, you saw the muscles in her back flex again, the arch in her back deepening, “Mommy, think—m’cumming again, oh god, motherfu— “

“How many are you gonna give me, angel?” you rubbed her clit faster, fucking in harder. 

“I feel it, I feel it, fuck!” She wasn’t listening to anything you were saying as she yelled in her pleasure. You could see how much she was wetting your cock, lines of her slick forming every time you pulled out of her. You angled your hips downward when you fucked back in, and she shouted your name out, her warnings of her orgasm echoing in your ears. You released her clit and pinned her down by her neck again. 

“Like it right there, baby? That’s the spot?” You could feel your core squeezing with every cry she let out, her voice completely broken, her squeals scratchy. 

She was babbling about something, but you weren’t listening, the squelchy sounds of her cunt increasing in volumes as you forced your dick in her, stirring her guts up. 

You looked down and saw her ass squeezing with every quiver of her cunt, and you licked your lips. You let her wrists go and brought a hand to your mouth, sucking your thumb in to wet it before rubbing her ass with it. 

She let out a loud slew of ah ah ahs before you felt a burst of wetness on your thighs, dripping down onto the floor. Her entire body was jerking back onto your, her rosy ass jiggling every time she hit your hips. 

But then you heard a slam above her shouts of pleasure and mommy!

You looked up to check on her unsteady form as she continued to drench your lap, her hand resting on the back of her mother’s nameplate, her fingertips digging into the wood as she screamed in her euphoria. 

It made you fuck her harder and pull her hand away from the dog tag. You didn’t even care about punishing her anymore, you needed to cum. You’d been riding that edge since you got here, and you knew you were going to cum so hard.

You leaned over her body and grinded into her, moving her hand away from the plate and sitting back up in its position. You grabbed her by her spit-coated chin so she could look dead at her mother’s name. She whimpered and tried to look away from it, but you tightened the grip on her face to keep her still. 

“Look at it, baby— “

She sobbed, murmuring how hard she was about to cum again, her eyes fluttering as she stared at it, her cheeks glowing like apples.

You bent down to her ear, “You embarrassed, angel? Huh? Wanna close your eyes? Gonna squirt on me again?”

She was looking dead at the plate, “You’re so deep, mommy, fuck yes, m’gonna!—“

“Nasty fucking slut, taking it so good,” You looked up at the clear window as your thrusts picked up pace again, the entire city shining through the glass in all its glory. Every light of every building, people roaming, honking, noises of construction. It was all beneath you, and it was all theirs. The strap was bumping on your clit with each thrust. 

“Look at your city, baby,” you lifted her weightless head by her wild, knotted hair and made her look into the distance as you groaned in pleasure. “Gonna be all yours one day, can do whatever you want with it soon.”

“Fuuuck— “

“Uh huh, you like having that power? You can get whatever the fuck you want— “

“M-Mommy!”

“Just need a baby, right? Gonna g-give her what she wants? Gonna give her that precious heir, that golden child?”

“Yesyesyes! Wan’your baby, ge’me fucking pregnant!”

You moaned at her begging as you babbled mindlessly to her, “Gonna cum in you, fuck, need it… t’catch— “

She was screaming about how your seed was going to catch in her womb, how hard she was going to squirt again, begging you to fuck her harder, hurt her, make her bleed, make her scream. You could feel your senses leaving as your orgasm built as she pushed back on you, and you moaned her name in her ear. 

“Fuuuck, Ellie,” your clit jerked, and you let her go, her head falling onto her arm in front of her as she yelled in euphoria. “Gonna make that bitch raise my fuckin’ kid while I’m gone? Huh?”

She didn’t even react to your slip of your departure, “Yeahyesyesyes! Fuck, I’m cumming!”

You felt another spray of liquid drip down your legs as you drilled her, and it triggered your own orgasm. Your clit jerked as your release rushed through you, your walls clenching as your body shook on top of hers, grinding against her to ride it out. You could almost feel the sensation of filling her up, her cunt sucking your cum deep inside her. 

She was still moaning above you, wringing the last bits of her orgasm out on your cock. You whined against her sweaty skin, the aftershocks moving through you. 

You felt her go completely lax underneath you, heavy sighs leaving her parted lips. 

You both caught your breaths in soothing silence. 

After Ellie asked you to show her how to kiss properly, the pounding of your heart refused to slow down. 

You were seated in her mother’s chair once more, her wetness still coating you in stickiness as she straddled your lap, her arms around your neck as she gazed at you nervously.

“We just fucked, why do you look like that?”

Her brows creased, “Like what?”

“Like you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared,” she whispered, her eyes flickering down to your lips before looking back up at you. 

You only hummed at her, brushing your noses together before leaning forward, grabbing the back of her neck to pull her down to you. Her eyes shut tightly, and her lips puckered in front of yours, and you pulled back, grabbing her face to stop her.

“Stop doing that, just relax.” 

“… What’d I do?”

You mimicked her, poking your lips out stiffly before breaking out into a grin. She huffed with a tiny smile, shaking her head, “Sorry.”

You shrugged, uncaring. She looked down, “Where do I put my tongue?” 

You snorted, “Nowhere yet.”

You craned your neck up slowly and connected your mouth with hers gently, your lips molding against hers. She sighed and leaned closer into you, her arms tightening around the back of your neck. You felt a sharp sting in your chest at her delicate touch, and you pulled away. A soft smack filled the room when you separated. She smiled softly, “That was cute.” 

You nodded stiffly, murmuring a mhm, before looking down. Out the window. Behind her. Anywhere but her eyes. 

You felt her nuzzle against your cheek, kissing it gently, “Are we… uh, fucking again?” 

“You want to?” The pounding in your ears was giving you a headache. 

You felt her nod. Another kiss to your cheek. Another pull in your heart. 

Your hands planted on her hips, lifting them so she could sit on you, but she grabbed your wrists to stop you. 

Her hands latched onto the hem of your shirt, attempting to pull it up and over your head, but your hand caught her wrist. Not harshly, but stern.

Her eyes softened at your masked expression, releasing the gentle grip on your shirt, “I’m, uh… I’m sorr— “

“It’s fine. Ready?” you grabbed the base of your dick in your hand, and she mumbled a quiet yes. 

You felt her hand come on top of yours as she helped you guide it to her entrance, and your breath shook as you exhaled.

Her hips came down on you at her own pace, your free hand resting on her hip. She gasped when it slipped inside, her hands coming to support herself on each armrest. 

“Feels different like this,” she whispered huskily.

You smirked, “I know, take your time.” 

She nodded, slowly sinking down on you. You saw her eyelids get heavy as her walls caught on every ridge of you, her head falling back in her pleasure. Her soft locks disheveled all over her head, her bun nonexistent as her bobby pins stuck out from every direction. 

She slid in too deep, though. She let out a pained gasp as she caught herself on the chair, her brows furrowing. 

“Okay?” you checked in.

She nodded, her lip in between her teeth, “So deep like this, fuck… don’t know if I can go all the way down.”

“It’s fine, babe, make yourself feel good.” 

“H-Help me?” her breathing was picking up as her hips bucked. 

Your other hand flew to her hips, digging into her soft skin as you guided her hips on you. You eased her into a deep grind, and her hands flew behind you, landing on the headrest behind you. 

Her head rested in the crook of your neck as she followed your movements, her wet moans hitting the side of your neck. The sensation of her breath on your skin made your pussy clench. 

“Am I—gasp—doing good, m-mommy?” 

“Fucking me so good, baby, shit,” you whispered in her ear, and she moaned aloud in yours. She sped up on you, the harness digging into your clit with each swivel of her hips. 

Your hands moved down to grab her ass, spreading her cheeks before slapping them, grabbing the plush of them in your hands. She fucked you harder, and you felt her spit drip on your neck as she wailed into your skin. You threw your head back on the headrest when she sucked on your neck, right on your open scar.

She lifted her head up and looked at you with gentle eyes, her hands moving down from the headrest to grab your cheeks in a soft touch. She was panting on your mouth, her lips brushing against yours with every jump on you. She was so close and she smelled so good, her lips soft. 

She whispered dreamily, “Can’t stop cumming— “

Your eyelids fluttered, “Then don’t. Give it to me, m’so close— “

She grinded harder as she leaned down to connect your lips in a honey-sweet kiss. You reciprocated against your brain's desires. 

Push her away. She’ll never be yours! This is all she wants from you!

Tears built in your eyes as your peak approached, her moans increasing in urgency against your mouth. You sucked on her bottom lip, biting it hard. This is the most eager you’ve felt since you touched her. 

“Cum with me, pleasepleaseplease— “

“I’m gonna, baby, fuck me hard!”

She was going crazy on your dick, full-on bouncing on you, taking it all despite her protests earlier, and you felt yourself tipping. Your pussy squeezed and soaked the harness as your orgasm pulled in your gut. You looked down at your cock, and it was drenched in her white, sticky substance. She was creaming all over your cock as she used you. It made your eyes cross in your skull as your euphoria hit you. 

You were so loud as your nails tore into her skin, your moans matching hers in volume. You felt another splash of fluid on you, and you came harder, another wave crashing through you. You would’ve curled in on yourself if she wasn’t on top of you. 

You felt her tongue slide into your hungry mouth, swirling around yours as you shouted through your high. She was making you feel so good, and you couldn’t fucking think. 

You felt like you were cumming for minutes before the harsh pulses slowed into soft twitches, her hips slowing, and she bent down to kiss you. The touch was soft, sweet, undeserved. You stiffened, on guard immediately. 

She was close, she was too close. Her soft caresses on your face snapped you out of your intoxication, pulling away from her mouth and grabbing her hips to pull her off your dick. 

“T-Turn around, Ellie.”

“Huh?” she asked softly, her eyes teary and delicate. 

“T-Turn around,” your voice trembled.

“O-Okay.”

She was too fucking close. 

She lifted off you, planting her feet on the ground and you spun her. You pulled her down on your lap, her ass in front of your cock. You grabbed your tip, pushing it past her entrance, and she mewled. She took it with ease, mewling out as her back arched into you, swallowing you whole as she sunk down again. 

She planted her hands on your knees and immediately bounced on you, her toned ass meeting the base of your harness with every jump on your cock. 

You could see her pussy suck on your inches, suffocating your girth, her walls clinging to you. 

You grabbed her neck and pushed her forward slightly, and she cried out in painful pleasure. You planted your feet on the floor and fucked up into her. 

“Fuck! Your dick feels so fucking good! Oh my—agh!”

You saw even move cream spread over your dick with every fuck inside her squishy walls. You were moaning with her, fucking her harder, faster, the hand on her neck moving up to pull her hair hard. The sound of wet skin slapping accompanied the sounds you both made in your pleasured state. 

You were going to cum so fucking quick, “Fuck, Ellie, shit— “

“I’m gonna cum so hard, mommy!” your hand in her hair flew down to her hip, grinding her down harder on you. You moaned at the feeling.

“Yeah? Already?” You were right behind her, those euphoric waves pulling in your gut.

“Fuck—fuckyes!”

“Want it so bad, get it all over this fucking dick, baby— “

Her hand that'd been playing with her tits flew down on top of yours on her waist, her fingers lacing with yours tightly as she shouted, screaming your name. She met your harsh thrusts as she bounced, and she squirted on you again, and you watched it gush out of her, wetting your stomach and harness and the chair beneath her, the sound of splattering liquid on the floor making you cum the hardest you ever had. Your vision whitened as your orgasm crushed you. 

She kept cumming on you, and you kept cumming for her. The pleasure didn’t stop, and all you could do was scream her name out like she did yours, hold her hand tighter as your brain melted. She rocked back and forth on you, prolonging your orgasm, making you cum harder. It just kept building in intensity, the aggressive pulses wracking through you, your toes curling as she milked you, and all you could do was take it.

You blacked out in her mom’s chair, the last thing you remember seeing was her pulsing, squirting pussy, pulsing ass, and the auburn stars that painted her entire back. 

Some time passed, your lashes fluttering open as you felt soft touches on your face. 

You were met with delicate, green eyes, Ellie looking at you with a softness you hadn’t seen in years. It felt foreign, deep, and it made your heart pick up in panic. 

You pulled away from her touches and looked around unsteadily. 

She was too close. Too fucking close.

The office was a mess: clothes everywhere, the floor was soaked, the whole room smelled like sex and pussy, desk askew, its contents thrown everywhere, Ellie’s tears and puddles of spit all over the surface. You could even see splatters of… her on her mother’s restraining order against you. 

You were suddenly terrified, moving into action and guiding her off your lap so you could stand. You undid the straps of your dick and stepped out of it, cringing at the drying stickiness, and throwing it into your backpack.

You heard her speak from behind you, “Hey, hey, you okay? What’s wr— ‘

“Nothing’s wrong, I’m fine, I gotta go,” you said tensely. Unwelcoming. Guarded.

“Did… did I do something?” She sounded too soft, too gentle. 

“No, Ellie, I just, I gotta go,” You dressed erratically, pulling your underwear up and jeans on, wincing at your cum sticking to your garments. 

You could hear the crack in her voice, “Can I… do you need help or— “

“Ellie, I’m fucking fine. I’m fine, okay? Forget it.” You spat over your shoulder as you repacked. Don’t look at her, don’t fucking look at her. 

She sounded just as anxious as you did, “W-Why are you so upset with me all of a sudden? What’d I do— “

“You didn't do shit! Can you fucking drop it please!”

Her breath shuddered, “I thought… I thought we were… okay?” 

You whipped around to face her, an incredulous look on your face. Your heart shattered when she flinched, but you yelled at her anyway. Why the hell did you look at her?

“Why the fuck would we be okay?! Did you forget how we fucking met in the first place!” You pointed behind her to the soiled court order, “We’re never going to be fucking okay! Get that through your fucking head.” 

You reached down to grab your heavy bag, throwing it over your shoulder in a hurry. You felt like you were going to suffocate. You needed to go. Right now. You turned towards the door. You hadn’t even shut it all the way when you came in. 

“I’m never going to see you again, am I?” 

Your own tears fell at the dejected acceptance in her voice. She sounded so broken, and it was all your fault. 

But you knew this was for the best. The two of you could never exist together in bliss, even though meeting her was the most human you’ve felt since you were a child. Since your father was alive. 

But you were too different, too damaged. All you would do is hurt each other, you would resent each other, grow to hate, to regret. The world was too cruel, and she was not prepared for its harshness. You were barely prepared, and you lived it every day. And you promised yourself to never go through the despair of loss again. You walked towards the door and heard her release a quiet sob. 

“No,” you pulled the knob, the spacious hallway being another reminder that you didn’t belong. Not here, not anywhere. Her mother was right. 

You were worthless. Held no value in this society. 

In another life, you could’ve been something great. Your cards could’ve been different, better. You could’ve made your father proud. The two of you could’ve been happy.

“You won’t.” 

You left the same way you came, moving in urgency before her sobs lured you back to take her in your arms, against your will. 

Maybe in another life. 

hi lol OOOOOOWEEEEE 

this was heavy sorry gworlies i love sad shit 

don’t hate me too much? 

omg tell me what y’all thought or whatever *looks away shyly 

thank u 4 reading if u did :3

hi taglist love yall @cherriessxinthespring @ellieswifee @elliespookie @belovednanami @sevikasimp @saturnsellie

#ellie williams smut #ellie williams au #ellie williams #ellie williams angst #ceosdaughter!ellie #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #lesbian #ellie williams x you #works 𖧧࣪

[sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts]

𝐀 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬

*vision bored doesn't describe readers' looks it describes the vibes of the story*

Pairing: dark!stalker!Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: Life takes a sinister turn once you begin renovations on your old, eerie house. Strange occurrences start piling up—like missing security camera footage and mysterious messages from an unknown stalker. The tension really amps up when you stumble upon red roses, serving as a chilling reminder of the stalker's presence and danger. Despite trying to brush off the threats, the situation escalates when the stalker directly reaches out to you, leaving you fearing for your life and bracing for a potential confrontation.

IMPORTANT: This fic is based on haunting/hunting Adeline i do not claim or own any characters from the series I only used it as inspiration, all the credit to H.D Carlton for being an amazing inspiration and writer.

Warnings/tags: MDNI 18+, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, stalking, breaking and entering, bondage (rope and tape), groping, grinding, fear, non/dub-con, rope burns, toxic people, degradation, praise, feet kink? (maybe kind of), pussy eating, fingering, spit, biting, clit biting, breeding kink, kissing, protected sex wrap it before you tap it, kids. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION, YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME

WC: 6.5k

Small things, it all started small. Ever since renovations started on the house, life has gotten strange. The old dark house didn't help much, but it was cheap to buy such a run-down place when you originally got it. It's worth more now that you've fixed up parts of it, but you still feel like it's dark once those cobweb-covered walls are watching you like you're something to be hunted, or like you're in a horror movie and aren't noticing the obvious hints of a killer.

And you weren't entirely sure you weren't avoiding a killer with how many small changes you saw around the house. Glasses were left on the counter, seemingly freshly poured, even if you didn't remember pouring any. Your nice scotch bottle had less fluid in it every time you checked it, yet whenever you wanted to check the cameras your friend Daphne suggested you put up for your safety, there was missing footage from certain hours of the day even during the night, whatever or whoever was doing these things was smart and calculated with every move. You don't even feel safe showering, Over a month of weird stuff, no face no answers just fear

The more you tried to be rational about how you couldn't have a stalker, the weirder things got. Like he wanted you to know he was there. You started picking up on little changes, the stuff you initially brushed off as maybe just your mind playing tricks on you. But then it became crystal clear when you kept finding those red roses laid out for you, no thorns in sight. Every time a red rose without thorns appeared, it felt sinister. You'd thought how considerate it was of the stalker to avoid using the thorns, but it felt more like a taunt like the person responsible wanted to remind you of their presence with every rose and to show you that they could easily hurt you, but chose not to.

Tonight wasn't any different. You came home from some grocery shopping to see three red roses sitting on your kitchen counter, trimmed and tied together. You groaned and put down the bags of groceries before tossing the roses completely, trying not to pay it any mind. You'd done that the past five times, hoping giving him no attention would make him go away. Your phone buzzed, interrupting your unpacking. You read the text message, and a chill ran down your spine when you realized it was from an unknown number.

Unknown: Do you not like roses?

You saw the message and dropped your phone, immediately scrambling to find something to defend yourself with. You ran to the knife block, grabbing a large, semi-sharp knife. You could worry about the melting ice cream tomorrow, not when your life was at stake. A stalker's murder attempt was imminent, and you weren't going down without a fight. Your phone buzzed again, indicating a new message from your stalker. Your muscles tensed as you carefully picked up your phone to check the message, feeling a sense of dread wash over you when you read it.

Unknown: I see you're taking precautions. But trust me, violence won't solve anything. Let's have a civilized conversation, shall we?

The audacity of the message sent shivers down your spine. How could this person be so calm, so composed, while installing such terror in your life? The thought of engaging in conversation with them made your skin crawl, but you knew ignoring them wasn't an option either.

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your courage. You replied with the knife still in hand, determined to stand your ground.

You: I don't want to talk. Leave me alone.

The response was almost immediate.

Unknown: Ignoring won't make me disappear. You can't escape me.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and the gravity of the situation intensified. The stalker's persistence was chilling, and you knew you needed to involve the authorities. As you dialed 911, another message flashed on your screen.

Unknown: Calling for help? It won't make a difference. I'm always one step ahead.

Fear tightened its grip on you, but you continued with the call, silently praying that law enforcement could indeed intervene in this sinister game. As you spoke with the emergency operator, your stalker's messages continued to flood in.

Unknown: You can't hide forever. I'll be watching, waiting.

Each message felt like a dagger, cutting through your sense of security. The operator assured you that help was on the way, but that didn't stop the ominous texts.

Unknown: The sirens won't save you.

The final message came through, short and ominous, making you block the number.

Unknown: Tick-tock.

You waited almost the whole night, but no one came. The silence was deafening, making you doubt that your stalker would make a move on you. Perhaps your fear has gotten the better of you, making you panic unnecessarily. Either way, you couldn't shake the feeling that danger was just around the corner, leaving you a bit on edge.

As days turned into weeks, the quiet dragged on, and you started second-guessing yourself. The fear kind of faded, replaced by this sort of 'what now?' feeling. A whole week passed, and you didn't spot a single red rose anywhere. The absence of any signs from your stalker had lulled you into a false sense of security, the fear becoming a distant memory. The red roses that once haunted your thoughts had blurred into the background, and life had cautiously resumed a semblance of normalcy.

Just when you thought the nightmare had ended, he resurfaced. On an ordinary day, as you hesitated at the threshold of your home, a cold shiver ran down your spine and you saw something on the ground. You squinted at it for a moment before realizing what it was; a few red roses, perfectly trimmed and tied together with string. Your phone buzzed. You gasped, your heart racing as you realized that the rose had to be from your stalker.

Unknown: "A week is a long time to go without hearing from me, don't you think?”

Your fear grew as you considered possible reasons for your stalker's sudden absence. They'd been relentless with the red roses until now, constantly reminding you of their presence through the ominous messages tied to them. So why would they wait an entire week before finally breaking the silence? Was it a psychological game meant to make you believe you were safe long enough to let your guard down? Perhaps they'd been watching your house, waiting for a good opportunity to strike. Your mind was reeling with possibilities, yet the uncertainty only added to your mounting anxiety.

You quickly walked inside the house and blocked that number as well, not bothering to bring in the roses. You left them on your doormat to rot, as you had no desire to let the flowers remain in your home. Soon after, you heard a buzzing sound coming from your phone and instinctively answered.

"Hello," you said, hoping to hear a familiar voice on the other end. There was no reply for a second. Then suddenly, a deep, gravelly voice infused with a Southern twang unexpectedly responded, sending shivers down your spine. You froze for a moment, pondering the uncanny timing of the call. What gave it away wasn't just the voice, but the chilling familiarity of the situation. The sudden appearance of the roses, the ominous messages, and now this call from "Daphne 💕" at the most unsettling moment – it all clicked into place. It couldn't be a random coincidence. Your gut twisted with certainty; it had to be the stalker, cunningly using the guise of your friend's name to unnerve you further.

The voice spoke again, "I missed our little game, I'm glad you blocked my last number, as it made our game much more interesting," the voice taunted, sending shivers coursing down your spine.

"Why are you doing this? Is Daphne okay?" You shouted into the phone, your thoughts running wild with a million questions and concerns. The stalker's laughter sent chills down your spine and increased your frustration. "Why would I hurt Daphne if you're the one I want?" the stalker laughed again as if your worry was a joke to them. It seemed clear that the stalker had little to no compassion for your best friend's safety.

You desperately needed a way to get to the point, so you chose not to waste any more time. "If you're after me, then why are you pretending to be my best friend? Wouldn't it be easier to just text me with your number?”

"Well, that doesn't seem to work. You've blocked every number I've tried," the stalker replied, their tone oozing with smugness. It dawned on you that they'd been meticulously keeping track of every number you blocked, instead of simply moving on like a normal person would.

"Touche," you responded evenly, sensing the stalker's growing frustration as you stood your ground. Their voice took on a darker edge as they acknowledged your resistance. "Blocking my numbers isn't cutting it. Looks like we need to switch up the game," they declared, sending a chill down your spine. You couldn't shake the feeling that their next move would be far more sinister than merely sending flowers.

"So, what do you propose we do now that blocking your numbers isn't working?" you asked calmly. The stalker laughed, a menacing sound that only added to the tension between the two of you. "I have a few ideas," the stalker replied, their tone of voice hinting at something sinister. "Let's hear them," you replied, keeping your tone of voice as calm as possible to disguise the fear growing inside of you. The stalker paused for a moment before speaking, as if they were plotting their next move.

You walked into your kitchen and grabbed a knife like you did a week prior. The stalker's dismissive response sent a chill down your spine. "And a flimsy kitchen knife is a solution... sweetpea, those knives in that block of yours aren't as sharp as you think," the stalker responded, making you look around nervously. The stalker had made it clear that they could see you, which raised several new questions. How much could they see? Could they see you right now? Were they hiding nearby?

"Like that would deter me. In my hands, this knife can and will kill you," you spoke with false confidence as you walked to your bedroom. The stalker's dismissive attitude frustrated you, and you were tired of being the one who was afraid. You wanted to gain the upper hand in this situation, and you were prepared to do whatever it took to protect yourself.

You grabbed your desk chair and a pillow before taking a seat with the phone and knife still in hand. The stalker responded in a mocking tone, "Oh, what are you going to do with that knife? Stab me through the phone?" They were challenging you, and you were determined to prove that you weren't as afraid as they thought. You were determined not to let them get under your skin and decided to respond with your mocking tone. "Maybe I will," you replied, deciding to match their confidence.

"No need for hypotheticals… you smell good by the way," he responded, so casually it made you gasp audibly as you suddenly imagined how close he was. "No need to get all fussy," the stalker continued, their tone of voice a mixture of amusement and malice. The thought of the stalker's presence just inches away from you made you hot and uncomfortable in a way you hadn't felt before.

You shut the blinds in your bedroom and frantically rummaged through your closet, stabbing at clothes out of sheer terror. Opting to take a seat, you vowed not to sleep until the psycho lurking in your house was either gone or dealt with permanently. The idea of him being in such proximity sent waves of unease rippling through your body. Uncertain of his capabilities, paranoia set in, making you hyper-aware of every subtle sound or movement. It felt like only a matter of time before you'd hear him drawing closer.

The night felt like it stretched on forever, filled with nothing but anxiety and dread. You must've checked the locks on every door and window a dozen times, feeling more paranoid with each click. Even going around, peeping through the blinds and peeking under the bed, making sure nothing was lurking in the shadows before finally settling down in your desk chair for the night. You could barely stop yourself from jumping at every little sound. Around 1 am, you started to feel tired but kept yourself awake for as long as you could. However, your exhaustion soon caught up to you, and you began to yawn constantly, fighting against the urge to fall asleep.

It was 1:30 am when you decided you couldn't take it anymore. You were thirsty and tired, and the three-day-old water bottle on your nightstand didn't sound too appealing. You grabbed the knife as you made your way down the stairs, trying to stay alert while simultaneously fighting the exhaustion that was starting to take over. You finally reached the kitchen and took a deep breath, grateful for the chance to stretch your legs. You poured yourself a glass of water and gulped it down quickly as you thought of the long night you still had ahead of you.

You can feel the exhaustion slowly taking over as your eyes start to feel heavy, and the surroundings turn hazy. You can feel yourself starting to lose control as the exhaustion takes over, and it becomes harder and harder to stay alert. You feel as if you're caught in a fog, losing touch with reality more and more as time goes on.

You stumble into your room, your vision getting blurrier by the second. Exhaustion has you barely standing. Darkness starts to take over, swallowing everything up as your surroundings turn fuzzy. It feels like you're losing control, like a heavy blanket pulling you down. A fog surrounds you, making everything dark. As darkness closes in, you can feel yourself slipping away, struggling to stay upright as your vision fades to black.

You jolted awake as something rough brushed against your wrist. Your surroundings rushed back into focus as the exhaustion subsided a bit. You tried to see what had touched your wrist, only to find your hands tied securely to the headboard with rough, coarse rope. After the initial shock wore off, you started to feel the tension in your wrists as the ropes began to dig into the skin.

Your room was dark, illuminated only by the moonlight flooding in from your window. The blinds and window were now open, letting in a cool breeze. You looked around in a panic, and that's when you saw him. The contractor you hired 2 months ago to help with house renovations stood menacingly in the moonlight, his large frame and pepper-sprinkled hair glinting in the moonlight. His appearance made you feel a wave of fear and suspicion, which was only furthered as he stepped forward into the light.

You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat as you realized he had covered your mouth with tape. Panic surged within you, questions swirling in your mind like a tempest. Why was this happening? Why are you? What was the significance of the roses? And the most pressing question: How did he get into your house?

His presence loomed over you, a sinister silhouette against the moonlit backdrop. Every detail seemed amplified in the dimness—the way his eyes bore into yours, the rough texture of the tape against your skin, the faint rustle of fabric as he shifted closer. Fear pulsed through your veins, a relentless drumbeat drowning out all other thoughts.

You struggled against the bindings, the coarse rope biting into your wrists as you attempted to break free. But his gaze held you captive, a silent reminder of your vulnerability. During the chaos, a desperate longing for answers consumed you, driving you to seek clarity in the shadows that enveloped you both.

As the stalker's words filled the dimly lit room, they carried a weight of uncertainty. "I just want to keep you safe," he said, his voice oddly calm, though it sent shivers down your spine. Despite his calm demeanor, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something off about his intentions.

"I gave you those roses because they mean something to me," he explained, his tone determined yet unsettling, the twang of his accent adding an eerie quality to his words. His explanations felt like pieces of a puzzle you couldn't quite solve, leaving you with more questions than answers.

His justifications for his actions only added to the confusion. "Breakin' in, you see, it was necessary," he continued, his explanation sounding more like a feeble excuse. You couldn't help but wonder what drove him to such extremes, what twisted logic fueled his intrusive behavior.

With each passing moment, the lines between concern and obsession blurred further, leaving you to navigate the murky waters of his intentions. As he spoke of protection and affection in that Southern accent, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to his story than he let on.

"Now," he murmured, his voice taking on an eerie calmness, "I'm going to remove the tape from your mouth. I suggest you cooperate." His tone held a chilling finality, a warning wrapped in false benevolence. "Behave, and we won't have any problems."

As the words escaped his lips, a twisted narrative unfolded, stirring a disturbing sense of familiarity within you. Despite the fear gnawing at your core, there was an unsettling draw towards him, as if his words carried a hidden allure.

His voice, soft yet commanding, stirred conflicting emotions within your mind. Memories of your first encounter flickered like distant flames, igniting a spark of attraction amidst the chaos of fear and confusion.

His eyes, once unsettling, now seemed to hint at vulnerability, reflecting a mirror to your uncertainties. His determination to protect you, though shrouded in ambiguity, blurred the lines between reality and manipulation, leaving you to wonder at his true intentions.

Amidst the turmoil, a nagging sense of unease whispered warnings of danger, urging caution in the face of the unknown. The chill that ran down your spine couldn't be dismissed, as his calm demeanor masked the darkness lurking beneath the surface.

As he reached to remove the tape from your mouth, a fleeting thought crossed your mind, betraying the depths of your confusion. Despite the fear and uncertainty, an undeniable attraction lingered towards this enigmatic figure, the same one who had once breathed life into the walls of your home.

Trapped and bound, vulnerability heightened with each passing moment. The stalker's unsettling words hung in the air as he approached, his eyes now a mix of intensity and what seemed like genuine concern. The tape on your mouth held back the words you longed to shout in defiance.

As the tape peeled away, a shiver coursed through you, a mix of fear and inexplicable attraction. The dim room bore witness to the conflicting dance of emotions, a macabre waltz where danger intertwined with a bizarre sense of connection.

His fingers brushed against your skin as the tape came off, sending a jolt through you. "I suggest you behave," he murmured, his words dripping with a possessive edge that made your skin crawl. Tension thickened in the air as his touch lingered, tracing an unsettling path along your bound wrists.

His actions became increasingly invasive as he leaned closer, his eyes piercing into yours with a sinister intent. "I'll behave if you stop this madness," you retorted, your voice quivering with defiance and desperation. The stalker's eyes narrowed, a sinister smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"Ah, but this ain't madness, my dear," he drawled in a Southern twang, his voice dripping with unsettling calmness. "This is love, a love that you'll come to understand in time."

The words sent a chill down your spine, but you refused to let him see your fear. "Love doesn't involve tying someone up against their will," you shot back, determination lacing your words.

His laughter echoed in the darkness, a hollow sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Oh, but my love, you'll see," he said, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. "You'll come to realize that everything I do, I do for you."

Your heart raced as you struggled against your bindings, the stalker's presence suffocating in its intensity. "Let me go," you pleaded, your voice betraying the fear you fought so hard to hide.

But the stalker only leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear, his Southern twang adding an eerie quality to his words. "I'll let you go when you understand," he whispered, his words a haunting promise of things to come. "Until then, we're playing a game, you and I, a game of cat and mouse."

Your pulse quickened at his words, the sinister game unfolding in the darkness. "I don't want to play your game," you countered, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and defiance.

"But you've already joined, my dear," the stalker replied, his tone chillingly matter-of-fact, his Southern twang accentuating the unsettling atmosphere. "And you'll find that I'm quite skilled at it."

His words loomed in the air, casting a weighty tension that embraced the room. Each of his calculated moves and carefully chosen words served the purpose of unsettling your equilibrium.

"I won't let you win," you declared, rallying every ounce of courage within.

The stalker's grin widened, a predatory gleam sparking in his eyes. "Oh, but that's what makes it so exhilarating," he whispered, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "The chase, the uncertainty. It's what keeps us alive."

A hard swallow marked the acknowledgment of your grim reality. Trapped within the twisted game he orchestrated, you recognized the stakes were high. Refusing to play the role of a pawn in his deranged scheme, you vowed to escape, regardless of the price.

As the tension simmered between you, the air crackled with an unsettling energy. The stalker's gaze bore into yours, a magnetic pull tainted with danger and an underlying primal essence.

"I won't be a pawn in your sick game," you spat, your voice trembling with a blend of fear and defiance, yet underscored by an undeniable undercurrent of something more.

The stalker's smirk deepened, a trace of amusement flickering in his eyes. "Oh, but my dear, you already are," he purred, his voice low and seductive. "And soon enough, you'll come to relish every twist and turn."

He reached for the blanket and slowly pulled it down, revealing the t-shirt you had worn earlier. The cool breeze in the room caused your nipples to harden. "What are you doing?" you panicked, attempting to move away, but the rope still tightly bound your arms and ankles. "I said behave." Gosh, you wished you could put a name to the face; it had been so long since you'd talked to your contractor that you'd completely forgotten his name.

He removed the blanket completely, walking to the end of your bed where your ankles were tied. You felt a sense of relief when you saw him start untying your ankles. "If you do something stupid, there will be consequences," he finished untying your ankles and kissed your feet softly.

The change in move had you taken by surprise. You didn't know what to expect next, but you were suddenly aware that you were in a very vulnerable position. He planted his hands on your hips and pinned you down on the bed, his strength overwhelming. You were completely at his mercy, and you could feel the heat of his breath on your neck. A shiver ran through your body as you realized how easily he could overpower you if he wanted to.

Your body goes into survival mode, and you fight against his hold with all the strength you can muster. But it's useless. He's too big. Too heavy. Too imposing. He moves to straddle you, pinning your legs between his screams with frustration, attempting to buck him off. He laughs at the attempt, the rich sound of his amusement sending a chill down your spine,” Shh..just relax sweet pea I won't hurt you” he gently brushes some stray hairs out of my face.

"Get off me!" You shouted, kicking your feet up and down, but there was no budge in his position. He grabbed your face forcefully, drawing it closer to his own, and you could smell the mixture of liquor and mint on his breath as he spoke with a threatening tone. "Keep pissing me off, I dare you."

A panic starts to come over you, sweat starts to drip down your hair like a pulsing sensation starts to pulse between your legs, “the stalker whispered with a sickening grin. As he lifted your t-shirt, exposing some of the skin on your stomach, you felt his breath on your ear, and a shiver ran down your spine. Your body was reacting to his touch in a way that filled you with shame.

His rough calloused hands started exploring higher, slowly but surely making their way over your stomach and up towards your chest lifting your t-shirt more and more with each movement. You felt the soft touches against your skin, his fingers slowly tracing up your body, creating a sense of danger and excitement. You were frightened, and your mind went into panic mode. "What's your name? Is it Josh or Jake?" the words came spilling out suddenly as you wanted to distract him from what his hands were doing.

The stalker was caught off guard by your sudden question, and the change in your tone pulled him out of his trance for a moment. He chuckled, as his fingers continued to explore your body. "My name is not Josh or Jake," he whispered. "My name is much more interesting than that." He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin as his fingers continued to trail up toward your chest. He started to knead your breasts softly.

"My name is Joel, and I'm shocked that you don't remember," Joel said with a sadistic smirk. He sat up, allowing your legs to move freely, and you immediately rolled around to cover your exposed skin. It didn't matter whether you got rope burns on your wrists or not, as long as he wasn't able to touch you intimately. Your body was still tingling from his earlier touches, and no matter how much you tried to ignore it, the sensations were still there. 

"Maybe I should make you remember it for next time." Joel's voice had a harsher tone to it as he spoke, and there was a hint of anger in his eyes as he watched you roll around to cover up the exposed skin. Maybe he was angry that you didn't remember him, or maybe he was angry because you seemed to be resisting his advances. The reason didn't matter. What mattered was that he looked pissed.

He walked back over to your ankles and started to tug on your pants making them come off in one swift motion before grabbing one of your legs and lifting it roughly kissing your ankle and lower calf you tried to kick your legs but to no avail, it was like it didn't affect him it was kinda hot, what no? Get it together he's your stalker

You were left helpless in your t-shirt and panties scared and unsure of what to say or do as you're body was betraying your brain my pause in thinking gave him enough time to discard your panties and put them into his jeans pocket…You glanced over him swiftly, taking in his broad, fit physique, which seemed to defy his age. He carried a presence that suggested he might even be older than your father if not the same age. what had felt like 15 seconds had been long enough for him to pin your knees down to your bed

If you tried to buck and get away you would only shove your pussy closer to his face, you had an intense pink blush on your cheeks at the action he was so quick and seamless unlike any male you'd ever been with you stiffen the moonlight barely allows you to see him making you angrier feeling even more exposed to him.

He starts to kiss your upper thigh making you gasp at his actions as he slowly makes his way closer to your mound he teases you knowing that your body is betraying you as your legs shake suddenly the closer he gets to your core. He took his time kissing both your legs and even your lower stomach every so often as he switched. 

“The only sounds I want to hear out of you are praise, my name, or your moans'' he placed a kiss directly onto your clit making you arch your back in pleasure causing your hips to lift off the bed. “You smell and taste like candy” he gripped your hips and roughly brought your hips back down onto the bed “Now stay still and let me enjoy my food” 

Joel didn't hold back he kept his hands on your knees keeping your spread and ready for whatever he wanted to do to you, he didn't hold back in his movements his tongue lapped up every juice your body produced like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted you bite your lip trying not to give him and satisfaction of knowing the pleasure he was giving you. You were grateful your hands were bound if not you weren't sure you could hold off on running and tugging your hands through his hair.

You feel and smell your arousal your body is shaking and you're struggling to stay quiet he knows it and isn't making it any easier as he starts to change his technique he uses his teeth to bite your clit softly allowing his tongue to attack no mercy his movements calculated as he listened to the sweet sounds of your moans started to escape.

He pulled away making you whimper before changing the position he sat on her knees before pulling your ass off the bed and pushing your legs so they were at the side of your head he spit on your pussy before using his hand to spread the spit around your pussy making the surface even wetter. “You're not behaving you're holding back” he pauses and puts two fingers into your pussy pumping in and out slowly making your eyes roll to the back of your head and moan softly…fucking heaven. “See how much better it feels when you don't hold anything in?” he taunted you as he began to curl his fingers hitting that one spot that made you see stars.

You moaned feeling on edge you tugged on the ropes holding your hands hostage you wanted to touch him so badly. He began to bite on your clit just enough to give you pleasure but not enough to hurt. He brought the hand that wasn't fingering you so deep you were seeing stars up to your breasts moving your stupid t-shirt out the way to pinch and kneed the smooth skin.

You couldn't take it anymore. Your orgasm was coming faster than ever your moans were not contained. You were grateful for the seclusion of the woods that surround your house. It probably sounded like a murder was taking place with how loud your moans were getting.

Joel knew you were close as well. He stopped kneading your breast and used his free hand to hold one of your legs down as they began to shake rapidly, he added another finger and made his motions faster. You couldn't take it anymore you screamed out “OH GOD JOEL!!!” you started to shake as he continued to finger you and hold your legs open he moved away from your pussy to get more leverage to hold down your shaking body “JOEL…stop.., it's too much” you gasped and started to cry at the overstimulation he was giving you. 

Then he finally let go, letting your legs down. Your vision was blurry from your tears. Joel stood up at the end of your bed. The sun was beginning to rise, giving you a better look at him. God, he was just as hot as the first day you met him. “I hope you don't think we're done so soon?” he joked you were shocked for a man his age he's lasting longer than you thought possible, the started to undress himself revealing his chest he was even broader without a shirt he had a small belly but bellow it was a large raging cock it had to be as thick as a soda can and longer than any dick you'd seen in real life it was majestic .” cat got your tongue?” he climbed on top of you and met your lips with a sloppy kiss.

You both began to make out like horny teenagers. You could taste your arousal on his tongue. He ran his hands through your hair and down your body he pulled back for a second before ripping your t-shirt in half “Hey!” you protested, “it kept getting in the way of what I wanted” he started to kiss down your neck leaving bruises as he moved along your neck and collar bone. You groaned in frustration as you couldn't touch him, your wrists were becoming raw and red with pain. He noticed and kissed your wrists but didn't untie them, making you squirm to try and loosen the ropes. Joel grabbed your face roughly "When you misbehave, you don't always get what you want," Joel said, using a more stern tone. "Now be good and stop squirming around like a child who didn't get what they wanted." he let go of your face and started to stroke his cock.

He put his hand in front of your mouth “Spit” You spit into his hand and watched as he used your spit as lube for him to stroke his dick, he spread your legs open again he pushed your knees back close to your head but not far enough for your ass to be off the bed but enough to give him a good view of your pussy glistening in the morning light.

He rubbed the head of his cock up and down your folds causing you to gasp nervously for what was to come, he slowly started to insert his dick into you screaming at him and moved your hips away as he tried to insert the tip “Ah!” you kick at him “stop it doesn't fit” you plead with him for him to stop or maybe stretch you more. “Aww poor baby never had a real cock have you” he inserted the tip of his dick filling causing you to arch your back slightly you rapidly shake your head no to answer his questions “Words” his voice sounds cold and dominant as he pulls you by your hips onto his dick

It's so deep you feel it in your throat you can't help but moan out at the feeling so painful but so pleasurable “Now…” he pulls out almost completely before slamming back in “Have you never been with a real man like me?” He continues to apply slow deep thrusts as he talks to you making your eyes roll to the back of your head “god I can barely fit” he eggs you on as he begins to use his thumb to rub your clit adding just enough pressure to have you moaning out for more.

“Please…more I want more” you beg as your hips start to meet his thrusts. He begins to pump into you faster grabbing onto your hips and roughly digging your hips into the mattress as he thrusts harder and faster into you the pain has completely faded and all you feel is pure euphoria as he fucks you.

You haven't been able to stop moaning and you quickly get embarrassed as a loud shriek leaves your mouth as he hits that spot again you'd never had anyone fuck you like this you don't feel pleasure for a moment he's made you feel good over and over listened to your body and understood how a women's pleasure works. “Joel…please” You didn't Even know what you were begging for, you just longed for more for anything he was willing to give you.

“Do you wanna cum?” he taunts biting your shoulder as he continued thrusting into you, you were lying if you said you didn't want to come you wanted so too so bad and he knew it he was experienced he could tell by the way your pussy was pulsing, your breath became sloppy, the way your toes curled he knew he just wanted you to say it. “Answer me or I won't let you cum at all” he growled, applying pressure to your clit using his thumb “Yes yes god yes please make me cum” Your back arched and you moved your body into him as much as you could.

You're juices dripped down your thighs a set of continuous moans fall out your mouth “You're gonna cum with me sweet pea fill you with all my baby’s” he groans and pulls your thighs into his arms so your legs are flat against his chest allowing you to feel him in your spine the sound of the bed squeaking fills the room as his thrusts became more erratic “ready?” he groans deeply and rubs your clit faster and faster until your vision suddenly went fuzzy as your orgasm washed over one another. You felt his sticky cum flood into your pussy. The feeling was so warm it felt like it would never stop cumming thank god for IUDs. 

Joel didn't let go of your legs, instead, he pushed into you making sure as much of his cum as possible would stay inside of you, he leaned down into you making your legs right next to your ears he leaned in for a passionate kiss before pulling out of you.

A dead silence reigned over the room the morning sun shined through your bedroom window as the smell of sex overwhelmed your senses, after a few moments Joel undid the rope that had your hands tied to the headboard your wrists were red and bruised from rubbing against the rope so hard, Joel put his clothes back on as you lay in bed staring at the ceiling finally releasing what you just did you fucked your stalker and liked it?

Your thoughts raced as Joel came back into view, the last person you wanted to see at that moment. "My real number..." he muttered, tossing a business card in your direction. You glanced over the card.

‘Miller Brothers Contracting and Co….’

He hesitated at your bedroom door before exiting the room entirely.

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[katiexpunk]

The Art of Noticing | Pairing Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary:  In the hushed corners of this desolate world, where whispers of yesteryears linger among crumbling ruins, you find a peculiar kind of peace; just like you did when you fell asleep in the darkroom for the first time. Still armed with your camera, even in this new world, you try to keep your heart attuned to the silent narratives of a forsaken universe. You used to think this was your strong suit; to be able to immortalize the unnoticed, to preserve the beauty around you, even in a world of darkness. That was until it almost got you killed. And Joel Miller hates you for it.  Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Word count: ~6.1K Warnings: This one is full on corn with plot; plus lots of emotions. No specific age gap mentioned. References to loss, grief, death and sadness. Reader almost gets her throat slit, until Joel saves the day. I mean, canon-typical violence. Joel is an asshole in the beginning. Angst. Enemies to lovers. Lots of hatred towards a bird lol. Lots of film/photography references. Ellie is a gem, as per usual. Size kink. Reference to a gun/knife. Alcohol. Use of pet names (darlin', baby, good girl, sweetheart, etc.). Unprotected P in V. Oral (M and F receiving). There's a titty fuck. Grinding/dry humping. Fingering. Nipple play. There are no physical descriptions of the reader except that she has hair long enough to whip over her shoulder. Please let me know if I missed anything. A/N: This one has been in my WIPs for months. It started off as an entirely different story, but after going through and re-reading what I originally wrote, I hated it. I have all the feels about this one. Special thank you to @sydneyinacoma for being my emotional sexy support blanket and holding my balls on this one, as per usual. And to @papipascalispunk for originally editing the first version of this story, although it looks totally different now. Iris, you're a gem. Thanks for believing in me even before I did. I hope I make you proud with this one. Masterlist | Read on AO3

Tumbling at the edge Of disaster,  This is how I lived. Oh see how the chrysanthemums  Are dry now, Yet still beautiful.  ~ Noelle Kocot

In the hushed corners of this desolate world, where whispers of yesteryears linger among crumbling ruins, you find a peculiar kind of peace; just like you did when you fell asleep in the darkroom for the first time. Your mother had always told you there was beauty in capturing the poetry in the often-ignored details, and she made sure you were given the tools you needed to do so. She was kind like that. Sometimes it's as if her presence still lingers vividly in your viewfinder, her radiant smile eternally illuminating your memories.

Your film helps you to hold on to the details that no one else is around to remember anymore, details you might one day forget; details like the color of your best friend's eyes, the warm hue of orange of your grandfather’s favorite recliner, and even the nearly lime green color of the fresh green tomatoes from your garden.

In a place where the larger story has faded, you still revel in the tiny tales—the vines reclaiming forgotten streets, sunlight gently embracing relics of the past, and the murmurs of tales etched into the decay. You think about the scratches carved into the dining room table of your childhood home and often wish you could once again find your seat around it. 

But that reality is gone. 

No longer is the girl who liked to swim or play with dolls. No longer is the girl who fought with her sister for stealing clothes from her closet, or her brother for hitting too hard. 

Like many others, she’s gone. They’re gone. 

She was whisked away to make room for the woman you are today; the person you’ve had to become to survive. 

Still armed with your camera, even in this new world, you try to keep your heart attuned to the silent narratives of a forsaken universe. You used to think this was your strong suit; to be able to immortalize the unnoticed, to preserve the beauty around you, even in a world of darkness. 

That was until it almost got you killed. 

And Joel Miller hates you for it. 

++++

Months after your patrol that went wrong, you bump into Joel outside the Tipsy Bison, giving him a cursory glance before turning around. 

The idea of saying sorry crosses your mind, but for whatever reason, you don't. Your kindness, once a vibrant tapestry, is now a threadbare token. Besides, it’s his fault. He shouldn’t have been standing so close to the doorway. If anything, he should be apologizing to you.

You’re in a rather grumpy mood this evening, having wasted the last of your film only to overexpose the prints earlier in the day. Every single one – ruined. Sure, before the outbreak, this might not have bothered you as much, but now, finding film is like striking gold, and your stash is dwindling at an alarming rate. The frustration hangs over your head like a cloudy day. All you want to do is go home and sulk – forget about the mistake – at least if you were at home crying over your photographs, you wouldn’t be subject to prying eyes. 

“Watch it,” Joel says, voice low and even, a sharp hint of annoyance behind his tone. 

You stop in your tracks. You know you should walk away from this. But your temper is already on edge, sensitivity on hyperdrive, and something about the sneer of Joel’s voice gets under your skin. You spin around in a huff and toss your hair with annoyance. “Maybe next time don’t block the door,” you bark.

Joel retorts, red-hot at your audacity. “‘Scuse me? Wanna run that by me again, sweetheart?

The pet name is patronizing; you’re a real stick in his craw. 

"You heard me," you snap back, punctuating your annoyance by crossing your arms over one another across your chest.

Joel turns around and takes a large stride toward you, closing the gap between your bodies so he’s nearly chest-to-chest with yours, his imposing figure towering over you, and his eyes narrow. “What’s got your panties in a twist tonight, hmm?” Joel asks, voice dripping with sarcasm and void of any genuine concern. 

“You” you say, “you’re always so fucki–” before you can continue your sentence, Joel stops you by placing his large index finger onto your lips to hush you. "You've got one helluva smart mouth, darlin’," he says, voice low, almost menacing. 

You freeze, looking up at him unsure of what to say as he brings his face inches from yours, the scent of whiskey heavy on his breath. The flecks of amber that dance around the edges of his irises catch your attention. As you swallow, your eyes momentarily flicker down to the thin line of his lips. Abruptly, he withdraws his hand, leaving an echo of intensity lingering in the suspended moment.

He isn’t particularly nice, but you have to admit, he is fucking hot. Since his arrival in town, he's been a magnetic force, his somber aura unmistakable to even the most casual of onlookers. A silhouette of brooding intensity, with shoulders that carve the space around him and biceps that speak of strength. His voice, a rasp in the wind, adds another layer to his already large presence. 

“I’ve been told,” you pause. “Just – just get out of my way,” you say firmly, walking away as your shoulders brush against him. 

"What's got your panties in a twist?" you scoff in your best imitation of his voice. You exhale sharply, fully aware of the true reason behind the agitation. You haven’t been fucked in years, and the heat that Joel stirs low in your belly is an incredibly frustrating feeling, knowing you’ll never get to do anything about it. 

God damn infuriating man. 

++++

As you lay in bed that night, you can't help but replay your encounters with Joel, the scenes repeat like an annoying commercial that won't leave your mind. Memories of your patrol with him keep playing on a loop, embedding themselves in your thoughts, refusing to fade away in the darkness of the night. "You could’a been killed," Joel's words still ring in your ears, the weight of his tone and the intensity in his eyes seared into your memory. You remember the sounds  – the bone-crushing crunch and the grim, wet thud as Joel swiftly dealt with the raider who tried to slit your throat for your backpack, all while you were innocently looking through the lens of your camera, attempting to take a picture of a bird on a tree branch. 

“I told you to follow my instructions, to listen, and you almost got killed on my watch – f’what? A picture of a fucking bird?” he said, trying to get you to see his point of view. Of course, you’ve apologized. Profusely, even, but it falls on deaf ears. 

Ever since that moment, Joel hasn’t looked at you the same. You're certain all he sees is a stupid little girl, unable to protect herself. Nothing but a burden. Dead weight on his already sore shoulders. 

Just go to sleep and forget about it, forget about him, you think to yourself, stirring in the scratchy fabric of your sheets. 

As you drift off, you wonder what the bird saw that day. 

++++

With a grunt, Joel manages to kick off his boots in the entryway, and they land with a loud thud against the floor. The worn wooden stairs creak beneath his weight as he ascends the steps, the dim hallway leading to Ellie's room. Pushing the door ajar, he finds her peacefully asleep. A small smile tugs at his lips, grateful to see her warm and safe. 

Retreating to his room, Joel sheds the remnants of the day – his jacket, the weight of exhaustion, and the lingering sensation of your soft lips under his finger. As he settles into bed, the worn mattress groaning beneath him, he remembers the sound of your sweet voice; your puffy, teary eyes looking up at him as you apologized; and the sticky feeling of the blood on his hands from the man who tried to hurt you. 

He wishes he would have pulled you close; and held you in the safe embrace of his arms. 

He’ll never admit it, but he forgave you almost immediately, and it terrifies him more than anything in this new world ever could.

He’s already lost so much, and he’s not sure how much more he can take. 

Surely it’s easier to hate you, rather than admit the truth, rather than lose you. 

“Fuckin’ bird,” he mumbles before drifting off to sleep. 

++++

"Come on, you've gotta be there! It's gonna be a total snooze without you," Ellie pleads, practically begging you to join her at the annual community holiday gathering.

Whereas Joel mostly acts like a grade-A jerk, Ellie is like a breath of fresh air. From the moment you met her, you’ve had a connection  – you taught her the ropes of film exposure, and she's good company in a world where friends are a rare commodity. Despite your initial reluctance, you eventually cave. It’s not really your thing, but it’s a taste of normalcy, or what passes for it in this broken world, that you crave; plus, you convince yourself that you might even get a few good photos out of it. 

Standing alone at the bar, you try to relax. You fiddle with the strap of your camera that rests on the bartop as you reminisce about how before the world turned to shit, you would have been quick to capitalize on an opportunity like this – to meet a nice guy, maybe have a drink or two and then end the night between the sheets. 

You close your eyes and try to recall the last time you were touched, but it’s fruitless. It’s been so long since you’ve felt the gentle caress of a man or anyone for that matter.

You huff your residual irritation at the thought as you notice Joel talking with Tess in the distance. Tess. She’s rather new to town. You’ve only spoken once or twice, but you’ve gathered that she is a formidable woman with a no-nonsense demeanor, but still somehow kind. 

Plus she can hunt, a welcome skill around here. As she converses with Joel, you take the time to drink in the details about her that you hadn’t noticed before. You guess she’s in her mid-40s, her hair is a mousey shade of brown with small shiny threads of gray in the mix, but she wears it well. Her complexion is soft, and her smile is nice. She’s pretty. You try not to color yourself too hard in the various shades of green as you wonder if Joel thinks the same.

“Another,” you signal to the bartender, and he fills your glass with amber liquid. 

Maybe it’s the booze or the thick air from the crowded room causing your brain to go fuzzy, but you find yourself lost living out an alternate reality in your mind – one where Joel doesn’t hate you. One where he calls you a good girl, voice thick like honey, as he fucks you within an inch of your life. 

Ellie’s voice calls you back to reality as she yells your name, signaling you to join her at the other end of the room. Downing the last of your drink, appreciating the subtle warmth it brings to your insides, you carefully place the glass on the bartop, shooting a subtle nod of appreciation to the bartender as you do; you grab your camera and place the strap around your neck. As you navigate the space toward Ellie, your keen awareness catches Joel breaking from his conversation with Tess, his gaze searing into you as you walk past both of them. His face is unreadable, but that doesn’t stop your pulse from quickening under his attention. 

++++

After hours of socializing, all you crave is the comfort of your bed. Exhausted, you stumble out of the building, your balance betraying you on the gravel beneath your feet. Shit. You stand up, brushing off the lingering dirt from your knees, inadvertently smearing a small fleck of blood into your skin in the process. Of course, the one night you decide to wear a dress, the only one you own, you would end up injured. 

“Really don’t have much spatial awareness, do ya, Darlin’?” Joel says, appearing out of the darkness, his dark and husky voice rings in your ears. It comes out a little harsher than he intended. 

You shoot him a glare, half-hoping your eyes could actually launch daggers and finish him off right then and there. "Why do you always have to be such an asshole to me?" you demand, your frustration boiling over. “I’ve already apologized as much as I can, it’s fine if you don’t like me, but you could at least be cordial,” you say, voice defeated.

His mouth opens like he has something to say, but he doesn’t respond. "Right. Screw this, I'm going home,” you sigh as you walk away, thoroughly done with whatever messed-up game of cat and mouse the two of you are playing.

Joel watches you walk away, wishing he dared to go after you. 

++++

Months go by, and despite the shifting atmosphere, as the crisp embrace of autumn gradually succumbs to the biting chill of winter; the air between you and Joel remains unchanged. His indifference is as unyielding as the encroaching winter snow.

“Tommy, please don’t make me go,” you beg. “He doesn’t even like me,” you cry, hoping he’ll have some sort of mercy on you.  

“Sweetheart, he doesn’t like anyone. ‘M sorry, but it’s gotta be you two this time, ” Tommy replies, the sentiment of his voice echoing that there is no other option. 

As you’re packing your backpack, you consider taking your camera but decide against it. Joel’s words pierce through you once more, “you almost got killed on my watch – f’what? A picture of a fucking bird?” You stash it in your dresser drawer, exchange it for a beanie and gloves, and walk out of the room to head to the stables. 

Underneath the dappled morning sunlight filtering through the trees, you tread the familiar path to the barn, a soft crunch of gravel beneath your boots. The earthy scent of hay and the distant sounds of horses create a tranquil backdrop. As you approach the stables, your gaze catches Joel's silhouette – he stands, a rugged figure, in a weathered leather jacket and denim jeans with a knife sheathed at his side and a gun slung casually over his shoulder. 

"Hey," you utter, your voice a gentle cadence, drawing closer to him. His gaze assesses you with a measured scrutiny, and with a subtle nod, he responds in a low murmur, "Ready?" The acknowledgment of your greeting remains absent. 

Once inside the barn, you see the stable attendant readying your ride. 

“‘M sorry, but you two are gonna have to share a horse,” he says, matter of fact. “Good ole bessy here has a lame foot that we gotta take care of before she’s back in commission,” he adds, patting the horse on the side. “And every other horse already has a rider for the day,” he adds. You think you hear Joel groan, but you can’t be sure. 

You give the horse a friendly greeting, running your hand along its sturdy neck, a silent bond of understanding. Climbing onto its back, you settle in comfortably. Joel, without a word, positions himself behind you. The feeling of his thick chest pressed up against your back causes your breathing to hitch in your throat. Your eyes flutter closed as Joel reaches around you to grab the reins and he gently nudges the horse to go. 

The rhythmic clip-clop of hooves on the path fills the air as you and Joel ride in tandem, a shared silence enveloping the space between you. The warmth of your body pressed against him, and the faint scent of your strawberry shampoo mingled with the earthy aroma of the trail, causes Joel to stiffen behind you. He adjusts his hips, subtly pulling them back, so you don’t notice.

You ride like that for what seems like an hour or more, until Joel breaks the silence, "So what’s the deal with the camera,” he asks as the horses continue their steady pace. His question throws you off. Is he being friendly?

“Oh, uh – well, my mom gave it to me when I was a little girl,” you say. Your voice goes an octave higher as you continue, “It’s all I have left of her now. All I have left of anyone, really,” you say. You bring your gloved hand up to wipe away the bead of snot that has gathered at the tip of your nose, sensitive from the cold, as you wait for his response. 

“Hmm,” he adds, sensing the sadness, the grief behind your words; a hard truth almost everyone left alive has had to live. His heart hurts for you, hell, it hurts for him, too. 

“Must be hard, reckon there’s not much worth takin’ a photo of these days,” he says, his head scanning from right to left to look out for any potential threats. 

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” you pause. 

“When I was younger, I used to think the sound of thunder was just the sound of god rearranging the furniture,” you say, slightly angling your head back to look at him, “it’s all about perception, Joel.” 

He peers down at you, a furrow forming on his brow as he considers your words, his eyes tracking down to linger on your lips. Before you can say anything more, your attention flickers upward to the sky, the clear blue sky has been replaced by dark, ominous-looking clouds, and a raindrop falls to your cheek. 

++++

By the time you find shelter, far from the comforts of Jackson, you’re both completely drenched.

“Stay here,” Joel says, hopping off the horse and swinging the rifle over his shoulders into his thick hands. You brush away the beads of water collecting on your lashes as you watch him enter the home to make sure it’s safe. He’s gone for what feels like forever, and after he returns, the rifle is slung over his shoulder again. It’s safe.

“Alright, darlin’ – all clear, let’s get outta this mess,” he says, offering his hand to help you get off the animal. Once steady, he takes the horse by the reins to lead him into the garage for shelter. 

The rain-soaked chill clings to your skin as you and Joel step into the abandoned home, seeking refuge from the biting cold. Droplets cascade from your clothes, leaving a small puddle beneath your feet. The air inside is still, the only sound is the soft creaking of the dilapidated structure, the percussion of the raindrops falling on the roof, and the whip of the wind beating against the siding of the house. 

Without a word, you both start shedding your damp layers, your shivers becoming more pronounced in the cool silence. You stand in the dusty living room, clad in only your bra and underwear, as you hold your arms crossed over your chest partially to warm yourself but also to shield yourself from Joel’s eyes, slightly self-conscious. 

Joel briefly walks off before he returns from the bedroom off the side of the living room, having managed to find an old blanket among the remnants of the forgotten lives of the people who once lived in the home. He holds it open wide to you, an offering, and you turn your body so he can drape it around your shoulders. Once secured, you find a little bit of relief in its thick fibers. 

You turn around to face him, and he stands there, rubbing his hands together in front of him in an attempt to warm himself.

“Joel, you’re freezing,” you say, slightly taking the blanket off of your shoulders as if to offer it to him. “‘M fine, Darlin’ – I’ll be fine, keep it, you need to get warm,” he says, but you see the way his body shakes as he says it, his tender curls plastered to his forehead; weighed down by the water collecting in them. 

At that moment, you witness a fracture in Joel's stoic facade, the rugged exterior showing hairline cracks. The formidable walls he's meticulously built begin to crumble. 

"Joel, seriously, we can share – come here," you insist, extending the blanket open with one arm, inviting him into the cocoon of warmth. The gesture carries an unspoken understanding, a truce. You might hate me, but I don’t hate you. 

Joel hesitates for a second, his eyes tracing over your skin; as if he’s committing the sight of your hard nipples and damp skin to memory. 

At last, he acquiesces, closing the gap between your bodies. His hands encircle your waist, drawing you close as he wraps both arms around you. You respond by wrapping your arms around his neck, and the blanket falls around both of your bodies. With him this close, you notice the subtle scent he carries with him, a touch of rain, a dash of cinnamon, and a hint of sweat. You’re not sure how, but he smells good. 

With a long exhale, he tightens his hold on you, enfolding you against the sturdy warmth of his body. You melt into him, your cheek resting on the soft skin of his chest, and your breathing returns to a steady rhythm. You both pause there, letting the warmth swallow you up; eventually, the goosebumps that once littered both your bodies, begin to fade.  

Your stomach flips as you listen to the subtle pitter patterns of his heart and the rhythmic sounds of his breathing. You had forgotten how good it feels to just be held; to have another body pressed up against yours. You realize Joel must feel the same, your attention flickers to the hard stiffness pushing against your stomach. 

Tilting your face up to meet his, your arms still entwined around his neck, you whisper "Joel," your voice suggestive and questioning at the same time. His name hangs in the charged air.

"Darlin'," he responds in a low murmur, and before you can formulate a response, his lips claim yours in an unexpected yet tender collision. Joel groans and forces his tongue into your mouth. The intensity surges, and he begins to pull you back towards the couch. Joel pauses when the back of his calves meet the edge of the cushions, and he deepens the kiss before sitting back, pulling you with him onto his lap, the blanket falling to the floor leaving you almost bare on top of him. 

The air in the home is still cold, but you don’t care, the adrenaline pulsing through your veins and your red-hot desire for him is more than enough to keep you warm. He’s as hard as a rock under his underwear, and you hum, noting how good his cock feels beneath you. You haven’t seen it yet, but you can tell he’s big. 

 “Are you sure you want this? What about Tess?” you ask, grinding against his erection. Joel grunts as he gropes both of your breasts with his hands, his lips meeting yours once more. 

“Fuck, baby,” Joel mutters, leaning back to look at you. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more,” he says, his hands leaving your breasts to find your hips, and he pulls you down harder onto his clothed erection. “And Tess and I are just friends,” he adds, “You’re the one I haven’t been able to get outta my head.”

Joel closes his eyes, and his mouth hinges slightly open. It has been a while since you’ve been laid, but god were you glad to see you could still render a man speechless. 

Joel’s long, firm fingers find their way up your back to the clasp of your bra. He begins to unhook it. “Take this off,” he says, and you do as he says, throwing the damp lace onto the floor, leaving yourself completely topless on top of him. 

“God damn, Darlin’ –”, Joel responds to the sight of you. 

“Like what you see?” you say, feeling confident, and less intimated now that Joel is beneath you. Of course, he could overpower you in a matter of seconds, but in this moment, you have the upper hand. You grasp his chin, admiring the feel of the coarse hair on your fingertips, and lean down to kiss him hard. 

His cock throbs against you, and your pussy drips in response. You stay there, kissing him, grinding your clothed cunt into him, enjoying the desperate sounds he makes as you do. His firm body, soft tummy, and compact muscles spur you on. You grin as you trace your hands down his smooth chest, noting the scars -- from what, who, you can only imagine –  until your hands eventually make their way down to the band of his underwear.

Joel stops you, firmly gripping your chin to look at him. He pauses there and then pulls your face towards his, firmly sucking your bottom lip into his mouth with his teeth. “Mmm, Joel,” you mutter, the words leaving your lips fumbled and sloppy. Joel intensely stares into your eyes for a moment, and you stare back, eyes wide in disbelief that this is happening. 

“C’mere,” Joel says, breaking the silence with another kiss, as you rock your hips against him again, the movement sending sparks straight to your core. God, you’re so fucking wet for him – a dripping mess. 

Joel presses his face against your chest and works his way to your pebbled nipple before daring his tongue out to lick it. You push a still slightly damp curl away from his forehead, before clenching his hair in your fist. His breath is almost desperate as he laps at your tender nipples, alternating between sucking and little flicks of his tongue. “Joel,” you moan, pulling his face into your chest.

He growls softly, and sucks at your nipple harder, then rolls the other between his thumb and forefinger. You make a little noise in response. He trails the flat of his tongue up the valley of your breasts and over your exposed throat before kissing it, his hips lifting to you a bit as he does. He can’t wait to be buried inside of you. 

“Up, baby. There’s a bed in the back room,” he says, tapping your thigh. You shimmy off of him, and he rises to full height. It doesn't take long for his lips to find you again. Kissing in a way that’s almost as violent as he is, you walk backward this time, making your way to the bedroom with Joel’s guidance. 

It isn’t much, just skeletal remains of what was once a sanctuary. A duvet rests on the creaky old bed, its once vibrant pattern lost to time and dust. The room is mostly bare apart from the bed and a half-falling apart nightstand. Joel sits down on the bed and you fall to your knees in front of him. Your fingers hook under the elastic of his underwear, and his hips cant up to help you pull the fabric down and off his legs. 

The cock that springs free is thick and long. You’re intimidated only momentarily until the need to feel him overwhelms you. 

You spit into your palm and take his heavy member in your hand, before beginning to jerk him off. You slide your thumb across his swollen and red tip, your other hand gripping the thick, dark coarse hair against the base of him. 

Joel’s eyes roll back into his head at the sensation of him in your soft palms. You bend forward and place his cock in the space between your breasts, you tilt your chin down and open your mouth so a long line of drool dribbles down to the cleft of your chest for lubrication, and then you squeeze the flesh around his length, rubbing up and down the entirety of him. 

“Fuck nghh — that’s, ugh, that’s so good baby,” he grunts, his hands grabbing the nape of your neck. 

And it is good. Almost too good. 

“Darlin’, shit – ah, you gotta stop or I’m gonna come,” he says, his voice low. 

“Maybe I want you to,” you purr, torn between making him coat your tits with come, or letting him fuck you first. 

“No,” he says, voice more firm this time, “Gotta feel that perfect pussy before I do, baby girl,” he says, rising to full height, his arms wrapping under your armpits to bring you up with him. In one swift move, he has you turned and your back hits the mattress while a soft oof escapes your lungs. 

Joel has a hazy, dark look in his eye as he hovers over you. His pupils are blown open wide with lust. You think he might fuck you then, but he looks down and notices that your pussy is still covered by the thin lace of your now-soiled panties. He kisses down your chest, your tummy, and his head eventually finds its place between your thighs. He plants a soft kiss on your mound, and he mutters how sweet he thinks you’re going to taste. 

“Think we oughta find out,” he says, and he hooks his thumbs around the fabric and pulls them off your frame. Within seconds, his soft lips are on your wet folds. 

"Fuck –,” you cry out as he licks a firm stripe up your pussy. Joel moans before making his tongue flat and massaging your clit with it. It’s so fucking good. "Taste so sweet, Darlin’, knew you would," Joel breathes, his breath hot against you. 

He sinks a thick middle finger into you, and your walls clamp around the welcomed intrusion. His finger grazes against the soft spongy spot inside you that feels so good, and he works it in and out of you before adding another finger, twisting and working them both into you with precision. You’re so fucking close. You choke out a moan in response, enjoying the sensation of his long and thick fingers rubbing against your walls as his tongue makes tight circles around your sensitive clit. 

You pull at your nipple with one hand and hold on to the top of his head, his hair entangled between your fingers as you attempt to hold on to him, an anchor to keep you from floating away, and he devours you. 

His fingers thrust faster, his mouth firm on your throbbing bud, and he works to throw you over the cliff of your orgasm. You wail out, and the slurping groans that come from Joel are primal and filthy. 

“Be a good girl for me,” he demands, his words barely audible with his mouth on your puffy lips, “want you to come,” he moans. “Come on pretty girl, I’ve got you – let me taste your sweet release.”  

His dirty talk is all you need. "Yes, oh my god – Yes! Joel, fuck, I'm coming, don’t stop" you cry, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, your chest hot. Your vision goes white as you release yourself to him. Your back arches and your legs flex; your stomach feels like it’s being sucked into itself, and Joel works you through it, lapping up your come.  

He rises from between your legs, his beard slick with your release, and smiles at you. As satisfied as you are at the moment, he’s the one that looks it. “Kiss me, darlin’,” he says, and his lips find yours. You savor the way it tastes; a hint of tang, but just so. You reach your hand in between your bodies to grab his cock, and he takes the hint. 

“Gonna fuck you now,” he says, lining the entrance of his cock, the tip of it weeping with pre-cum, up against your wet and waiting hole. He presses his hips forward gently, and you begin to relax and flutter around him, feeling the subtle sting of an unfamiliar, yet not unpleasant, stretch. 

“So big, feels so full, Joel,” you cry, “I know, baby. But I know she can handle it,” he coos, pressing impossibly deeper into you, until eventually he’s buried in you to the hilt. Underneath his solid frame, skin to skin, his cock firm inside of you, you feel your skin prickle hot and blood rushes through your ears. He fucks you equisitely, his chest crowding yours, but he bears the brunt of his weight on his forearms so as not to crush you too much. 

He steadies like this for a while, before he eventually pushes himself up and grips the back of your knees. You follow his cue and pull them up, feet flat on the mattress beneath you. He folds them cross-cross onto your chest, obscenely stretching your needy hole around the girth of him. 

You can’t breathe. He’s so big you swear you can feel him in your lungs. His cock drags in and out of you, making you shudder and your toes curl. The way he fucks you is so much – hard, deep, and passionate. 

“You feel so good, Darlin’. Gripping me so fucking good, being such a good girl,” Joel moans. 

“God, don’t stop, ugh I’m so close,” you say, eyes closing. 

“Eyes open, baby. Want you to look at me while you come on my cock,” he says, as he takes your chin in his thumb and forefinger, demanding your attention. 

Something snaps inside you, and your whole body tenses, and then releases in a sweet gush. “Jesus,” his blunt nails dig into the flesh of your hips before his jaw falls slack. With one more thrust, he loses himself, buried deep inside of you, your walls coaxing his balls empty.  “Fuck, baby,” he growls as he empties everything inside you, finishing his climax with a guttural groan. 

Joel pulls out, and you sigh at the loss of being full of him. He bends forward to press a kiss to the top of your head, inhaling sharp breaths, before falling to your side on the mattress. 

You sit up onto your forearms, and a dribble of his release comes out of you. You grin down at him, surveying the damage. Joel’s complexion is pink, and his eyes are closed – he’s successfully been fucked into oblivion. 

“Cmere, darlin’,” he says, eyes still closed, opening one arm open to welcome you into the warmth of his chest. You lay there, once again listening to his heart and the sounds of the rain on the grimy window in the room. You trail your index finger down his sternum. 

“You know, I thought you hated me,” you say, your voice a little sad, but you know you need to get this off your chest. “I know you had to kill that guy because I wasn’t paying attention, and I really am sor–” Joel once again silences your sentence by placing his finger on your lips. 

“Never say sorry to me again, Darlin’,” he says “‘sides, I’m the one who should be apologizin’, I’ve been a real asshole to you,” his voice sincere. “I just – I don’t know what I would ha’ done if I didn’t get to that guy in time, I’d never forgive myself if I lost you and could have prevented it.” His head drops to the pillow and he stares at the ceiling; your head finds it’s place once again the crook of his arm, nuzzled up against his side body for warmth. 

There’s still so much more he wants to say, but he knows that he’ll have the time to do it later. He stares at the rough texture above him for a moment longer, before he quickly gets up, as if to remember something. 

“Be right back,” he says and walks into the other room. He returns with a pack and pulls from it a little black container. “Found this during a raid the other day – thought of you,” he says, handing it to you. You jiggle it up by your ear and smile. 

Film.

Joel Miller may be an asshole.

But he’s an asshole that most definitely doesn’t hate you.

END

Tagging moots and those who showed interest in the preview: @untamedheart81 @darkheartgatita @endlessthxxghts @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @bastardmandennis @dins-riduur-anthe @josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @survivingandenduring @nosesitter @pedroswife69 @morallyinept @milly-louise @toxicanonymity @javiscigarette @planet-marz1 @anavatazes @dugiioh As always, please let me know if you want to be added or removed from my tag lists.xx

#joel miller the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #The last of us #enemies to lovers #pwp fics #pedro pascal character #joel miller #pedrohub #film photography

[morallyinept]

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

#joel miller #dave york #frankie 'catfish' morales #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters #dave york x f!reader #frankie morales #frankie morales x f!reader #joel miller x f!reader #tw noncon #tw dubcon #tw dark #jett's pedro boys #jett's writing #happy halloween #fright night #joel miller tlou #dave york equalizer 2 #triple frontier frankie #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat

[frannyzooey]

Short Days, Long Nights: 12

Joel Miller x f!reader

Series Masterlist

Rating: E (pregnancy sex, description of a panic attack)

A/N: This was a beast of a chapter, and I couldn't have done it without @the-scandalorian (who is one of the most insightful, helpful readers/brainstormers I have ever met in my life) and @the-ginger-hedge-witch (my wife, who said "this chapter was a bitch, but you made it YOUR bitch" and I fell in love with her even more) ❤ enjoy!

-

Joel looks down at the dead man at his feet. 

Emaciated, clothes worn from the elements, hair matted and dirty. He eyes his boots, sizing them up with a narrowed gaze, and deciding they are probably too small for him, makes a mental note to grab them for you instead. The jacket he’s wearing is too threadbare to be of use, and it’s splattered in blood anyway. 

A clean shot square between the man’s vacant eyes, Joel’s eyes sweep over the wound as if he doesn’t even see it, and kneeling, he starts to check his pockets. With the practiced efficiency of someone who’s been scavenging for a long time, he makes no effort to be gentle in his search.

Hands tugging the clothing aside, he strips everything he can use: the boots, his gun, a small switchblade, some rope, loose bullets in his pocket. In another pocket, he finds a thick, folded piece of paper, and tossing it into the pile before shoving him over on his stomach with a sickeningly limp roll, he finds a knife strapped to his belt and takes that too.

Satisfied he’s gotten everything of value, he stands and with a grunt, starts dragging the corpse deeper into the woods. If it were just him, he would leave it. He’s seen and handled enough dead bodies that the task doesn’t faze him, but it isn’t just him anymore. When it’s sufficiently hidden in a spot where he knows you’d have no reason to walk through, he covers the body with leaves and branches.

Still thrumming with adrenaline and on his guard, his senses are hyper alert and aware. His eyes scan everything: the crisping, brittle leaves that rustle in the wind, the phantom figures that shift between the tree trunks as shadows play between them. Checking every single trap before he came back to bury the body, Joel is satisfied the man was alone, but something still pulls at him. 

Lost in what needed to be done in the moment, it finally comes to the surface. 

It starts with his heart, picking up pace until it hammers in his chest and holding his rifle in a one handed grip, he rubs at his sternum with the other. The muscle tightens instead of loosens, the pain constricting his breathing, and splaying his hand in a lean against the trunk of a tree, he temporarily gives into it. A cold sweat breaks out along the nape of his neck, the sound of his ragged breathing covering the sounds of the forest. 

A muffled white noise rises to overtake everything, his limbs weighted in their effort to keep him upright, and his coherent mind struggles against being pulled under into the depths. His eyes close tight and the bark of the tree scrapes the palm of his hand as he holds onto something as an anchor against the waves of panic. 

Again. It almost happened again. Another person he loves dead and it would have been his fault. He’s the only one here to protect you, and he almost failed. 

An image of your tear streaked face floods into his mind, and bile rises in his throat. Swallowing hard against it, he loses the battle and wretches onto the grass by his boots. The sensation burns just as much as the pressure in his chest, and lightheaded, he sways in his bend for a moment. 

Slowly, the outside world comes back: the white noise receding to give way to bird song, the bark on the tree under his hand sharp in its bite where he’s scratched himself. Rising, he spits to rid his mouth of the foul taste, and gathering himself for a moment, turns to gather up the pile of loot. 

–

You stay hidden for as long as your legs will allow it, cramping in their painful fold on the hard, wooden floor. Your fingers wrap around the grip of your gun just like he taught you, and you squeeze the metal tighter to stop the way your hands shake. The image of his back as he walks away from you plays on a loop in your mind, as your thumb worries a cool ridge along the barrel. 

A long time since you’ve used one, the gun feels both foreign in your hands and yet familiar.  Muscle memory, after ten years of using one, even though he’d always tried to shield you from having to use it if he could, both on the road and here. Tucked into the corner of the bedroom,  you feel embarrassed to admit to yourself that you had actually hoped you’d never have to use a gun again. 

Not on another human, anyway. 

Your cheeks tight with dried tear tracks and too anxious to wait for him any longer, you eventually rise and pace the length of the room, working the feeling back into your limbs. Undecided if the lack of sound outside is a good or bad thing, you bring the gun with you when you head out into the living room to begin to clean up.  

Shards of glass and couch stuffing litter the floor, fine splinters of wood everywhere. You shake the quilt on the couch out, turning your face away from the debris that flies off, and before you fold it and place it to the side, you bring the fabric to your face. The familiar scent of his skin is a reminder that this space is yours, even though it doesn’t look like it right now. The barrier that had been building during your stay has been breached, and grabbing the broom, you try to soothe yourself by setting it right again. 

No concept of time to aid your waiting, it seems as though he’s been gone longer than he should be for someone just checking the perimeter of the property, and though you haven’t heard anything beyond the gentle sweep of your broom across the floorboards and the tinkling sound of glass, the silence is eerie, ominous. Unsettling, after the loud gunshots. Like it should feel like things are back to normal, but something in the space has shifted. 

One man completely ripped away the safety you’ve come to take for granted, and you scold yourself on a loop for becoming too complacent, too dependent on a play-pretend peace that couldn’t ever be guaranteed, no matter how much you wanted it to be real. Your lack of awareness almost cost you everything. 

Not your life, not the garden: him and the child inside you. 

The stomp of his boots up the cabin stairs stops the circuit of worry, and meeting him at the front door, you take the bundle of things from his hands before pulling him in for a hug. 

“What took you so long?” Your cheek is pressed against the hollow of his shoulder, and you couldn’t care less how worried you sound.  

“I had to make sure there wasn’t anyone else,” he replies. He embraces you back, squeezing tight for a moment before letting you go. Holding you at an arms length, his eyes do a visual scan.

“You alright? You feel okay? You hide, like I said?” His questions are tight with worry, impressing upon you how important it is to him that you listened. 

You nod, and satisfied with your answer, he does another sweep over your features before pulling you back into his arms, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. 

You relax into the comforting hold of his arms for a moment, leaning into his solid frame. “Was he alone?” 

“Yea, seems like it,” he confirms. 

“That’s…good.”

He huffs, stepping back with a shake of his head. Letting himself drop onto the couch, he places his rifle near his knee and scrubs his hand over his face. “Don’t know if I would say that.”

“You know what I mean.” You speak the words softly, coming to kneel next to him on the couch, and reaching out to brush a lock of hair from his forehead, you look at him. Worry is still etched hard into his features, the lines of his frown deep and unyielding. Dragging your nails through the hair at his temple shot through with gray, you look at him for a moment. 

“Are you okay?”

He says nothing, instead letting a heavy breath out. He lets his head fall to the side, turning to face you, and you can see what he’s going to say before he even opens his mouth. His expression is apologetic yet resolute, like he’s bracing himself to say something he knows you don’t want to hear. Knowing exactly what it is, you change the subject. 

“You bring me some presents?”

He gives you a look that shows he knows what you’re up to but doesn’t push it. Sitting up with a cinch, he pats your thigh. 

“Yea, I did.”

Following him into the kitchen, you find the boots are a little big but otherwise a good fit, and sifting through the rest of the items, he plucks out the piece of paper. It unfolds to be larger than it looks, and spreading it out on the counter, you stand next to him and look down at it. 

“Is that..?” you ask quietly, and he answers right away. 

“A map.” Crudely made and hand drawn, he studies the winding trail filled with human-made landmarks and a single star labeled “Jackson”. 

“Jackson….Wyoming?” you ask, puzzled. 

“I guess,” he says, frowning, leaning in closer. He tilts his head, reading scrawled notes on the side, the words almost worn away. “This says it’s a settlement.”

“Like another QZ? I thought the closest one was Salt Lake City.”

“That one’s abandoned. This…” his voice drops lower as he thinks. “This looks like a real one, not run by the government. One off the grid.”

“Those exist?”

“I heard rumors before, but I…I thought they were just rumors.”

You fold your hands on top of your stomach, rubbing at a burning spot on your skin. “He must have been heading there.” 

He nods absentmindedly, still looking intently at the map, and then he stands straight, his hands on his hips. 

“Don’t matter where he was going,” he says with finality and a tic of his jaw. “All that matters is that he saw our place, which means other people could see it too.”

“Yea, but he’s the first in what – six months? More?”

The words make no difference to him, his face still set in a solemn frown. His stern eyes lift to yours. “It’s not safe here anymore.”

Even though you knew this conversation was coming, the words strike deep. Tangible grief stirs in your gut at the idea of having to leave it all behind.

“Joel,” you start, ready to argue with him, but he just shakes his head. 

“You know it’s not, honey.”

You do know. You do. The map is clear evidence that others might follow, and you know it would probably be in your best interest to leave. You also knew for a fact he would insist on it as soon as you saw that look on his face but you can’t bring yourself to agree. This is your home. Having worked so hard for this peace, it seems wholly unfair that it would be torn from your hands by only one man. 

“Where do we go?” you ask, knowing full well there isn’t any good answer. 

“I don’t know,” he answers. “We can grab everything we can carry –”

“I can’t carry anything.”

“I’ll carry it then.” He’s determined, the tone of his words final as he argues more with himself than anyone. “We’ll pack up what we need, get as many seeds from the pantry as possible. Got a couple of guns and some ammo to last us awhile, and –”

“Joel,” you interrupt him softly, getting his attention. “Forget what we’re gonna carry. Where are we going to go?”

He closes his mouth and with a shift of his jaw, stares down at the floor with his hands on his hips. 

“I can’t leave like this,” you press. Gesturing at your stomach, you let a hand come to rest on it. “What happens if we don’t find anything before I’m ready? Or worse, what happens if someone else finds us on the road? I can’t even defend myself. I wouldn’t even be able to help fight.”

“You don’t need to worry about that.”

“I don’t need to worry about it here. Out there, I would.”

“We do need to worry about it here. You saw –”

“I saw one man, and I saw you kill him.”

He brings his eyes to yours, and you meet his look with a fierce one of your own. “You killed him like it was nothing and I know if someone else comes, you’ll do the same.”

“You don’t know that,” he argues. “What if I’m gone? What if I’m huntin’ or somethin’, and someone else comes?”

“Then I’ll hide, just like you said.”

He gives you a look and you counter it. “I can barely even run, Joel. If we leave and something happens to you, I would never make it.”

His eyes drop to your stomach, and you come closer, reaching for his hand. “You know I’m right.”

He thinks for a moment, his expression softening and when he answers, his voice is softer too. “You think I wanna leave, honey? I don’t. You know I don’t, but we knew this would happen someday.”

“Yea, but we didn’t know this would happen.” You take his hand and place it on your stomach, and his shoulders drop in acquiescence.

“It’s not ideal, I know,” you continue. “But we can set new traps and make sure the old ones are still up. We can cover the front of the cabin with branches and try to shield it from the road. We can –”

His face shifts into something argumentative and skeptical, but yet you press on. 

“We have to try Joel,” you urge him, squeezing his hand. “We can’t leave. We can’t.”

Your tearful voice brings his eyes to yours, and his expression softens around the edges. 

Your garden, your cache, your warm bed with him beside you. The heat of his body felt through the flannels he wears when he sits next to you on the porch, the cool caress of the river when you bathe. The light you’ve seen grow inside him, the dimples he shows more often than not. The space in the corner of the bedroom where you had just begun to think of as the perfect place for a cradle. The peace that you’ve both found, and the happiness. 

One man to take it all away?

You can’t leave. You can’t. 

“We have about four months,” you say, holding his gaze. “The baby will be here by the spring, and then we can go. Okay?”

Your heart set on the knowledge that you might be able to change his mind in those four months, you shove the idea of leaving down deep and lock it away. A problem for the future, if he’ll agree to the present. 

“Deal?”

Warring with himself, the turmoil clear in the depths of his brown eyes, he eventually relents. 

“Deal.”

–

He starts spending the nights on the couch in the living room. 

The first night, you don’t say anything. You understand his need to keep watch, and so you bring him a pillow and a blanket before turning in yourself. The next morning though, they appear untouched. 

The second night, you ask him to come to bed, but he declines. 

“Safer with me out here.” Consumed with defending your home, he looks tired - so tired, sleep ringing his weary eyes, and for the first time in a long time, he looks every one of his years. His hand reaches for yours, and pulling you close, he kisses the round of your stomach. 

“You can’t stay awake all night again, Joel.”

Your fingers card through his curls, and for a moment, he lets his forehead rest against you, his eyes closed. He sags into your embrace, his nose nuzzling the soft fabric of your shirt and letting out a deep sigh, sits back up and avoids your scolding. 

“Get some sleep, okay? I’ll be out here if you need me.”

Biting your lip, you leave him in the living room, the map laid out on the table in front of him. 

It’s been there since that first day he brought it home; hours discussing the possibility of it being real. He had given you a lesson in the nearby QZ’s - Salt Lake City (abandoned), San Francisco (possibly controlled by the Fireflies), Portland (unknown, since the last communication). Only one worth heading to, the idea of entering another QZ’s walls made you queasy. 

Rough, dirty, swarming with people just trying to survive a life that didn’t seem worth living anymore. Scavenging, smuggling, stealing. Working disgusting jobs to get enough rations to get you next to nothing. Shitty apartments filled with even shittier people, and the idea of bringing a baby into that world seemed abhorrent to you both after this. You could see it on his face, the clear rejection of the idea even as he argued for it, and so each time, the subject was eventually dropped; the two of you looking down at the map instead. 

On the third day, you can see the lack of sleep in his movements, sluggish and slow. You urge him to take a nap, promising that you’ll wake him if anything happens, but when he passes out in the sun drenched bedroom, you try to keep the curtains closed against the bright light that pours in through the window. Not that it makes any difference, with how deeply he sleeps.

Later that night, it’s you who can’t sleep. 

Tossing and turning in a bed that feels bigger than it has in months, you throw back the covers and pad out to the living room. 

“Joel?” you murmur, his name coming out in a hush as not to startle him. 

He turns away from the window to look at you, his rifle resting near him on the couch, and you come to stand between his knees. 

“What are you doin’ up? Should be sleepin’.” The edge of his words blur, his voice husky in the darkness. 

“I can’t without you. I miss you in bed with me.”

His face softens in the moonlight, the well of his brown eyes pitch black and endless. “I know, honey.” His eyes linger on your body, down and back up again. “You wear this out here to entice me in there?”

You shrug, lifting the edge of your mouth in a smile. One of his flannels on, you’ve taken to wearing them to bed as the nights get chillier. You want to ask how much longer he’s going to keep this up, but not wanting him to get a chance to voice a defensive reason, you try the new one he’s just given you. 

“Is it working?” You finger a button near the top, his eyes on your hand as you undo it. 

His gaze darkens, his hand curving large and warm around your hip. You think you’ve won, but then he answers. 

“I can’t, honey. You know I can’t.”

His response is tinged with apology, and knowing you’re not going to win this fight, you lean forward to rest your hands on the back of the couch on either side of his head. Lifting your leg, he watches as you straddle him. 

“Then I guess I’ll have to stay out here with you.”

He chuckles lowly, shifting down on the cushion to give you more room to sit on his thighs, and when settled, you lean into the broad expanse of his chest and tuck your face into the crook of his neck. Letting your mouth rest there for a moment, you press a kiss to the edge of his beard. 

“You gonna sleep on my lap?” he teases. 

“I didn’t say anything about sleeping,” you reply, the low tone of your voice rolling a shiver over his skin that you feel with your lips. Opening your mouth a little wider, you give him a lingering kiss on his neck. Another one lower, your bottom lip catching the edge of his collarbone. 

His hands roam lazily along your curves: his fingers splayed over your back, they slide down to palm the curve of your ass, and fiddling with the leg bands of your underwear, he pushes the thin fabric to the side, searching for your plush, soft skin. When he finds it, you roll your hips over his lap, encouraging the touch. 

“I do want you to get some sleep,” you say, flicking the lobe of his ear with your tongue. “But if you’re not going to, maybe we can do…something else.”

His hand glides up your back to cup the nape of your neck, and pulling you back with the hold, he guides your face to hover just in front of his. The grip itself implies possession; his mouth so close that you can feel his breath skim warm over your lips. 

“Yea,” he agrees, nodding. He stares back with an intense intimacy only found in the middle of the night and his lips brush against yours in a delicate tease. “Okay.”

As soon as the word leaves his mouth, he captures your lips in a fierce kiss, one that betrays the hunger he’s felt all these days for you. You match it, your fingers twisting into the cotton that rounds his shoulders, and when he deepens the kiss to slide his tongue against your own, you widen your thighs and scoot closer, fitting your center over the crotch of his pants. 

It’s rough and needy, his hand staying in place with a firm hold on the back of your neck to keep you in place as he pulls from your mouth, and when you break away with a whine and a ragged inhale, his mouth never stops. It molds tight along the curve of your jaw, his teeth scraping along your skin. 

“I’ve missed you too, honey. Goddamn, I’ve missed you.” His confession is an endearment breathed into your skin between open mouth tastes, and shoving the collar of his flannel to the side, his mouth drags a wet path across the swell of your breasts. “Comin’ out here in my clothes. Sittin’ this pretty pussy on my lap. Like you’re all mine, just for me.”

He works open the next button on the flannel, gaping the fabric until he finds your bare breast and immediately covering it with his mouth, he sucks hard on your nipple with a groan. 

“I am yours,” you whine, arching your back, seeking out the wet heat of his mouth. 

You press yourself closer, his hand coming to push the plump of your breast into his mouth as he opens up wider, and though your belly should be crammed uncomfortably between the two of you, it makes you even wetter to think about how much you are his. Marked, in the most base way possible. 

He tugs the shirt roughly to the side as he switches his attention to your other breast, the collar slipping off the round of your shoulder as he groans against your skin, and pulling him back, you guide him back up to your mouth. Your fingers thread through his curls, tightening to give them a little pull, and he responds with a lift of his hips, grinding the hard heft of his cock between your legs. 

“I need to fuck you,” he rasps between harsh kisses, and your fingers drag down his torso until you find his belt, working it open. 

Your thumb pops the button of his jeans, his grasp on your hair tugging your head back so he can devour your throat, and trying to get his zipper down proves a task too hard until he helps. Without looking down, his hand joins yours, and the two of you frantically work his jeans open, the back of his hand brushing heavy against the inside of your thigh as he pulls himself out and you shove the damp crotch of your underwear to the side. 

Lifting just enough off his lap so he can position himself into place, it’s a delicious, filling stretch as you slowly lower yourself onto him. So thick and stiff, his cock notches satisfyingly deep as you work him all the way in, and impatient for you to do so, he keeps his eyes on your face when he flexes his hips up to force himself in, in a slick slide down to the base. 

Your jaw clenches as a whine crawls out of your throat, and holding you steady with a hand braced across the middle of your back with the other one curving around your hip, he brings you closer to him. Your hips are already chasing his, already a steady rhythmic rock as you fuck yourself on his lap and burying his face between your breasts, he takes pulls of your sweet scent, his beard scraping the soft skin. 

You have missed him just as much as his own need implies: missed him in your bed, missed the carefree Joel you’ve become used to, missed his presence when he left to ensure your safety. Everything since that day and before floods into your mind, coming out in a desperate need to show him just how much you appreciate it all. Appreciate him, for all he’s ever done for you, but also how lost you would be without him. 

You used to need him for protection, for his skills, for his ruthlessness. Needed him for his sense of direction and experience, needed him to seek refuge in the shadow of his determination to stay alive. You do still need him for those things, but you also need him now for him. 

Joel Miller, the caregiver. 

Joel Miller, the provider. 

Joel Miller, the one who has opened up to you and has shown you who he really is - something he’s been doing all along through his actions, only you didn’t realize it. 

Joel Miller, the man. 

You need him. 

Your hand cups his jaw and guides his mouth to yours, and lowering your face to his, you try to convey everything you feel in a wordless, hungry kiss. He tastes so familiar, so right, his lush lips giving just enough against your own that you’re driven mad with the need to deepen the kiss, and like always, he feels your need and matches it with his own. 

Your hips never stop moving, picking up speed in their roll on his lap. Your thighs burn with effort, your hips already sore from the width of him underneath you, your mouth drinking down the grunts that he lets pour into you as he bucks his hips to match your every stroke down. 

Entwined and lost in each other, you keep going because you can’t stop. 

—

He almost lost you.

With that thought a constant reminder that drives him to desperation, he winds his arm tight around you and uses his other hand to guide your hips harder down onto his lap: again, again, your head tipping back as you cry out for him. 

Heat pools between his thighs, a heady pull that starts at the base of his spine and works its way up through his balls, and then he’s fucking up into you, clutching you tight. You’re so wet – so fucking wet – and squeezing him like a slick fist. His heart pounds just underneath yours, his eyes raking over your exposed skin where his shirt — his shirt – has slipped off your shoulder. 

You smell like a mixture of himself and you, the firm swell of your belly pressing into his, and he groans, lust overtaking him.

“Fuck me, pretty girl. Fuck me.”

“I’m so close – Joel, please. I’m gonna come.” Your begging makes him thicken inside you, his hooded eyes fixed on your face. 

Your beautiful face, mouth open in pleasure. 

The sweet sound of your begging, just for him. 

His name on your lips, in all forms: said with a teasing smile, a gentle scold, a cry for mercy. 

He almost lost it all. 

His hold on you tightens as his thumb finds your clit, nestled above where he’s stretching you open and he knows he's found the right spot when you clench around him, curling your body inwards. 

“I’m gonna make this pretty pussy come for me. Gonna make it mine.”

“It is,” you moan, your hips working faster. “It is.”

“Just like you’re mine.” 

“I am,” you confess breathlessly, looking down at his face. You close your eyes tight and chase the release he can tell is coming to a crest inside you, and the gorgeous way you let yourself fall apart on his lap with a broken cry floods his chest with the same pressure he felt in the woods, only this time it’s not dread he feels, but something else. 

“I love you.” 

The words come pouring out of his mouth before he can stop them, but once they’re out, he can’t stop saying them. Burying his face in your chest, he says the words directly over your pounding heart. “I love you, honey. Fuck, I love you.”

His unyielding hold keeps you pinned to his lap, and he comes inside you with a groan when you confess your own adoration into his sweat-damp curls.

“I love you too,” you say, breathless and pleading, your cheek pressed against the top of his head. “I love you.”

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller/you #joel miller/reader #joel miller smut

[aurorawritestoescape]

THE BURGLARY

written with @milla-frenchy

Pairing: burglar!Joel Miller x f!reader x burglar!Tommy Miller

Summary: two men break into your house and take more than just your valuables.

TW: 18+ mdni. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. NON-CON. Smut. Violence, suffocation, knife/gun play, penetration with a gun, mfm, bondage, degradation, praise, oral (male receiving), a depraved game, butt and pussy slapping, unprotected piv, creampies, cum eating, swearing.

Word count: 4,6k

A/n: @milla-frenchy and I wrote this fic as our contribution to Dead Dove December by @romana-after-dark. Romana, thank you for hosting this amazing event celebrating dark fic! @milla-frenchy I had so much fun writing with you! I love you, baby!❤️🫂Dividers by @saradika-graphics

If you’re sensitive to any of the warnings, do not read the fic! We don’t condone the actions of the characters. It is all fictional!

MILLA’S MASTERLIST | MY MASTERLIST

You’re standing in front of the bathroom mirror, the sound of water filling the tub is calming and hypnotizing. You’re wearing nothing but a pink robe, soft and warm. You untie it and open it wide before your gaze travels down to your breasts. You cup them gently and rub the nipples with your thumbs. They perk up at the touch and you flutter your eyes shut as the waves of arousal are spreading through every nerve in your body. One hand leaves your breast and glides down to caress your tummy and then mound. You dip your finger in between your folds and swirl it around your slightly wet clit. When you open your eyes, the mirror reflects your blown pupils back to you. You contemplate getting your vibrator from the drawer and using it in the bath. Your husband is away on a business trip and he won’t be back for a few more days but the idea of waiting for him to satisfy your desire excites you so you take a deep breath trying to calm down.

You take the robe off and hang it next to the sinks. You turn around, come up to the already full tub and bend over to check the water temperature. This is when he grabs you.

The iron grip of his hand is holding your wrists behind your back. His bulge is pushing in between your naked asscheeks. He’s big and strong and you’re helpless against him. He’s keeping you bent over the full bath and then pushes your torso down. Your head is submerged in the tub and you scream and thresh about but your cries are completely silenced by the water suffocating you. Your attempts to break free are fruitless. His fist is clenching your hair and it burns like hell but the pain in your burning lungs overshadows everything else. You’re trying to free yourself from his hold, to kick him and push him away but his beastly strength doesn’t let you.

You’re about to black out when he lifts your head by your hair and your mouth finally takes a life-giving breath. You cough and cry trying to get as much oxygen as he lets you and exclaim, “No, no, stop it, please!”

He growls and pulls your torso up and flush against his chest. You’re covered in water droplets, already cold and shivering but for another reason. The stranger might kill you and the thought makes you tremble and beg for mercy,

“I’ll give you everything, I’ll do anything! Pls let me go..”

You’re crying and screaming but he’s deaf to your pleas. You feel his breath on your cheek and he bites it. He doesn’t break the skin but the pain makes you wail. The man shakes your body and laughs, “Silly girl, the louder you scream the harder it’ll make me.”

Your back is pressed to his broad chest and your whole body is shaking as if electricity is going through every part of you.

“I saw you touching yourself, little slut. Made me hard like a rock,” he bucks his hips into your ass and you feel his clothed hard-on. “I coulda just taken what I wanted and left. But now I think I’ll take this pussy too.” He slaps your mound a little harder than a lover would and a whine escapes your lips.

“Started without me?”

You feel even more terrified if it’s even possible when you hear another voice.

“Nah, just gave this pretty slut a wash. Don't wanna touch her husband's crusted cum on her. We gonna leave our own.”

“Right, brother.” They laugh and you feel you might be sick. It can’t be happening. The sobs are shaking your body as you’re trying to turn your head to the side so you could see the new man.

“Please, let me go,” you plead, hoping the other intruder will be kinder to you.

The first attacker yanks your whole body to the side, turning you away from the tub so you’d face the second man. Your tears make his image blurry, resembling a dark shadow. He’s wearing all black and his face is hidden behind a balaclava. He sounds younger than the other one and is not as huge but he’s still bigger than you. He comes up close, takes your wet cheeks between his gloved fingers and pushes making your lips pout. You mewl and they both laugh. His other hand darts to your mound and he grabs your pussy squeezing your flesh with his harsh fingers. You whine and he looks at the other attacker over your shoulder, “She’s so soft and pretty. Can’t wait to use her.”

His accomplice hums in agreement, pressing his covered chin to your cheek and rubbing your delicate skin with the material of his mask, “need her to open the safe first.”

The second man agrees and steps out of the way while you’re being pushed to the door and into the master bedroom. You walk clumsily but as soon as you reach the doorframe you push all your weight to the side making your capturer crash into the door. Startled for a moment he eases his grip on you and you launch forward. The wetness of your body helps you to slip out of his hands and you’re running out of the room and along the hall crying for help as loud as you can.

Thoughts rush through your head as you realize that you need to get out of the house. So you race to the stairs but as soon as you reach them a hand grips your hair and pulls you back. It hurts and you try to break free but the man overpowers you with ease, drops his weight on you and you both fall on the floor. He grumbles and you realize that it’s the second intruder. He grabs your hands and ties your wrists behind your back with a rope.

“Stop, please, no!” you cry out, feeling pain in your scalp and body but the ache is dull as all your senses are fully focused on survival.

“Slippery bitch!” the younger man spits out and having restrained your hands, sits up on the back of your thighs panting heavily. He slaps your naked asscheek and you sob, tears soaking the carpet.

You hear steps and the first man comes up to you from the side. “Nice try, little slut,” he mocks you, pushing your shoulder lightly with the tip of his black boot. He orders to take you back to the bedroom.

You’re sitting on the floor in front of the safe in your walk-in closet. The men are towering behind you not afraid of you running away as your hands are securely restrained and you look and feel exhausted from the nerves and your attempts to break free.

The bigger man crouches next to you and his gloved fingers grasp your hair. Like a puppeteer he turns your head to him and rumbles, “Password, sweetie.” You begin saying the numbers immediately not seeing the point in protecting your valuables while your life is at stake.

“Please, take everything, just let me go… please,” you beg with a shaking voice but a carnal grin flashes in the opening of his balaclava and panic grips your heart.

“Open your pretty mouth, sweetheart,” he coos at you with a fake care as the other man chuckles and you see him bringing a knife to your face. It looks like a switchblade. You start pleading and crying again, horrifying images flooding your mind. Not waiting for you to calm down, the intruder turns the knife handle up and inserts it into your mouth.

“Hold it,” he orders, “just imagine it’s your husband’s dick. Bite it real hard, I’m sure you’re mad at him for leaving you alone now.”

He pushes your head down to the safe and you bend over awkwardly trying not to fall, knife between your teeth.

You hear the other man’s voice, “Press the buttons for us, princess, come on,” his voice is soft but it makes your hair stand up.

You sob and the knife nearly falls out of your mouth but you clench your teeth around it more tightly and bring the blade to the buttons.

“That’s our girl,” the first man mumbles, as his hand in your hair keeps you from falling.

You push the numbers with the tip of the blade and hear beeps. “You have a nice ass, baby,” the second intruder comments, apparently ogling your butt while you are bending over. You hear a click of the safe door and they push you out of the way hurrying to get their hands on the things they came for. At least you hope they came just for that.

You look up at them, wondering what they're going to do to you. You still hope they will leave, now that you've opened the safe for them.

You try not to panic and focus on your breathing. You can see their dark eyes through the openings of their balaclavas. They look at each other communicating without a word, and then the bigger one turns to you.

“How much time do we have?” he asks his accomplice, his gaze locked with yours.

“Half an hour, easy,” the other man replies.

Your hairs stand up and your breath catches in your throat. You feel that your brain is trying to convince itself that they are not going to hurt you more. You don't dare imagine what they are capable of.

The younger one grabs you by both arms and forces you to get up.

“We have plenty of time to have a little fun,” he laughs, dragging you towards your bedroom. You try to resist, but in vain. He turns around and pushes you against the wall. His hand grips your throat and you watch him in fear as he removes his balaclava. He has brown, shoulder-length wavy hair, and a mustache. The fact that he is uncovering his face terrifies you. These men don't care if you can describe them, and you wonder if you will make it out alive.

He brings his face closer to yours, to the point where your noses could touch, and leans his pelvis against you. You feel his hard cock on your lower belly and the last hope your mind was trying to cling to is now gone. He tilts his head to the side and smiles, looking at you. You hear his brother laugh behind him and say “you’re a fuckin’ psycho, Tommy.” He takes off his balaclava as well, and his face appears behind his brother. He has short, brown hair, a light beard and a mustache. You try to memorize their faces, in case you can describe them to the police. Later.

That “later” fades away when Tommy moves closer to your cheek and slowly licks his way to your cheekbone. You start shaking like a leaf and he laughs, unties your hands behind your back, and grabs your arm before tugging you after him. He pushes you onto the bed, where you fall on your back.

You try to get up, but the other man pulls a gun out of the back of his jeans and points it at you,

“You’re starting to piss me off, sweetheart, so I’m gonna set things straight. We'll fuck you and then we’ll leave. If you struggle, you'll turn us on even more. If you scream, we'll fuck you harder. Do I make myself clear?”

His icy voice, his words stop you and you lie down again. He hands the gun to Tommy and says “I’m gonna need my hands.”

You widen your eyes when he unzips his jeans and pulls out his cock. Thick. Much too big.

“Oh, sweetie, judging by your reaction, your husband has a small dick,” he says, laughing again. His brother chuckles too and adds, “She’s so not ready for our cocks, Joel.” He grabs your legs and pulls them towards him to lay you down.

Joel approaches the bed, slowly jerking off, and kneels on the bed at your side, before bringing his cock closer to your face, “Now you’re gonna suck me off, sweetheart. And after any dumb move from you, my brother will blow your brains out, ok?”

You nod. Your only hope now is that they end this quickly. You try to put aside another source of anxiety that is gnawing at your heart - their uncovered faces.

Joel taps your face with his cock twice before you part your lips slightly, and he says "Sweetie, open wide, or it ain’t gonna fit". You hold back the tears that are stinging your eyes, and you open your mouth wider. He slides the tip into your mouth, and you round your lips around it. He doesn't wait any longer, and sinks into you, holding your head in his hands.

He stops halfway down his member, then pulls back, before thrusting in with one stroke, making you choke. You hear Tommy laugh and can no longer hold back your tears as panic overtakes you and amplifies your suffocation. “Stop it, Tommy, you’re scaring the little thing!” Joel says with a chuckle.

He pulls out of your mouth and releases your head, and you feel Tommy get between your thighs. You murmur, “No, please”, but Joel adds, “Come on, sweetheart, my little brother needs to get his dick wet, too, right?”

Tommy rubs his cock against your folds, then against your clit. His tip rubs it several times, and to your horror you feel your pussy getting wet.

“Little slut is so wet for our cocks, Joel, can you believe it?”

“They always are. All fuckin’ whores.”

Tommy pulls back a little and looks at his cock, before slowly pushing it into your pussy, and growls "Fuck...she's tight, man." You wince as you feel your folds parted.

“Point your gun at her. I’m gonna fuck her throat, I don’t want her to do anything stupid.”

Tommy cocks his gun at your head and starts fucking you, thrusting deeper. Joel grabs your temples with his hands again, and his erect cock sinks in your mouth. He grips your head tighter, and quickly fucks your mouth, grunting. Your saliva pools against his member, and he is thrusting deeper and deeper, at the same pace as his brother is fucking your pussy. His cock hits the back of your throat, and he suddenly pauses, holding your nose pressed against his pubes.

“Don’t move, sweetie.”

You try to calm down, your mind in shock at what’s happening to you. In your home, where you should be safe. He finally pulls away, before thrusting in again, yet not going all the way to your throat.

“You’re taking us good, baby”, Tommy says, leaning over you and pressing his nose to your neck, the gun against your temple.

Still fucking your mouth, Joel tells his brother,“Stretch her with the gun. The handle. Let’s see if her little pussy can take it. Afraid I’ll split her in two with my cock.”

You want to scream, your mouth full of Joel’s cock, but only a vague moan leaves your mouth.

“And I’m the psycho?” Tommy laughs, pulling out and sitting up.

Joel pulls out too, and moves away from you with his hard cock in his hand, watching Tommy position the handle of the gun at your entrance with one gloved hand, and pressing your stomach with the other to hold you against the bed. He pushes gently and you cry out, “No, please stop, it won’t fit!”

“We’ll make it fit. You’re wet enough to take it.”

He keeps pushing, and the tip of the handle sinks into you.

“Say ‘thank you’ to Tommy for stretching you, sweetheart.”

You feel like you're going to pass out. You look at their faces, their eyes fixed on your pussy dilated around the gun, and you try to relax. A part of you wants to rebel and fight, but the other one takes over, knowing that you have no way out of this.

“Look, Joel, she's dripping. Good that we’re using the handle, she woulda ruined the barrel with her wetness,” Tommy comments and they laugh again degrading you.

“Ok, pull it out. She’s ready. Gonna fuck her now”, Joel says and adds, “Get on all fours.”

You don't move, too scared at the idea of what happens next, and Tommy points the muzzle at your forehead. Your tears start to fall again and you finally turn around, exposing your ass to Joel and standing on your hands and knees on the bed.

“I forgot that you had such a nice ass, sweetie!”

“Please… don’t do that”, you whimper with sobs in your voice.

“Don’t worry. I’m not gonna damage your ass. Don’t have the time for that. There’s one more thing we’ll have to do, after we’re done with you.”

You don't have time to ask or even think what they want to do next, Tommy is already on the bed pressing his cock against your mouth. Joel grabs your hips with his hands, and thrusts into you in one swift move. You suffocate under the intrusion, and Tommy pushes his cock in between your lips.

“Come on, baby, be a good girl and let me fuck this wet hole of yours,” Joel mumbles opening your thighs wider and begins fucking you with quick thrusts. Then he slides his hand down to your clit and you try to shake your head, but Tommy holds you tight, his cock buried in your mouth.

Joel coos at you, “Come on, sweetheart, wanna feel your pussy squeeze my big cock.”

You try to resist, but his finger slides against your clit perfectly. You tell yourself that it will end faster if he gets what he wants and let your mind retreat, and the emotions in your body take over. You feel your orgasm building, and your pussy begins to contract.

“Tommy… little slut is clenching my dick so hard, and she hasn't come yet”, he groans with a smile.

Tommy pulls your hair with his hand, and pushes his cock into your mouth one more time, before pulling out, gloved fingers clasped around his shaft. You moan, and cum on Joel's cock while your eyes roll back and your legs are shaking. He’s groaning, feeling your spasms around his cock, “Fuckin’ hell, little slut must be so bored with her husband.”

Tommy’s carnal gaze is sliding down your body and he looks manic when he lifts his eyes at Joel and asks with a smile, “wanna play like that time?”

Joel looks back at him, pulls out of your crying pussy and chuckles, “you’re fucking crazy, brother.”

“Why?” Tommy mumbles running his gloved hand through your messy hair. He looks right into your eyes drinking your fear and his cock twitches.

“The last one wanted it. This one looks too gentle.”

Tommy leans over you bringing his face so close you smell cigarettes on his breath and tells Joel,

“She might surprise us, brother. I’m sure she’s freaky. Aren’t you, princess?”

He grabs your pussy and you gasp. Your gaze darts to Joel who watches his brother’s fingers massage your wet folds and begins stroking his cock,

“Fuck, yeah, let’s do it. If she chokes my cock till I come… might spare her.”

You hear his words and sobs are about to break out of your chest but Tommy senses it and places his free hand over your mouth, “we’ll play one game, princess and then we’ll leave, deal?”

He’s waiting for the answer but you can’t agree without knowing what this psycho means so you just stare at him with fearful eyes.

He straightens up glancing at his brother, “Fuck, I forgot I don’t have to ask cos I have this,” he takes out a gun from his waistband and waves it at you.

“On your mark, brother,” he says to Joel and the bigger man grabs your legs and pulls you roughly on the bed towards him. His cock pushes between your folds and you moan.

“See! The whore loves it!” Tommy points at your with his gun, triumphant smile on his face and you feel a tip of a cock thrust into you. Joel’s huge member parts your folds again and you plead for him to stop but he doesn’t hold back as its head jams right into your cervix after a couple of deep and hard thrusts.

“Hey, hey, Joel. You’ll come too soon! Where’s fun in that?”

Joel pauses his movements deep inside you and you look at the men with confusion and fear twisting your face. What game are they going to play with you? And are you going to survive it?”

“Ready?” Tommy asks and you catch your breath waiting for the worst. Then Tommy leans down a little and slaps your pussy with his leathered palm, just a few inches from the place where his brother’s cock is buried deep inside you. You cry out when the pain catches you off guard and to your horror realize that it’s quickly mixing with pressure. Joel grunts shutting his eyes for a second and then opens them to glance at his brother, “Fuck, you were right. She’s squeezing me real good. Fucking chocking my cock, little slut.”

You sense your walls contract around his girthy length and you hate yourself for it. “That’s just one”, Tommy warns as he lands another blow to your tortured pussy. “Two,” he counts and you mewl, your eyes rolling back while Joel’s groaning through his teeth and plants his hands on the bed at your sides.

“What is it, brother? She’s so pretty and sweet that you’re about to come already?” Tommy mocks the man and Joel looks up at him with a pained and angry expression.

Tommy backs off with his hands in the air still chuckling and then comes back to slap your clit again.

As soon as he says, “Three” you feel warmth filling your pussy up as Joel is coming with a long growl grasping your hips leaving white marks on your soft skin. He starts thrusting into your core again pumping you full of his spend and you feel sick when your core is tightening. You won’t come. You won’t give it to him.

“Holy fuck, princess, you have a magic pussy. To make my bro bust a nut just after three slaps!” He laughs and takes your head in his hands kissing your mouth. First as a joke he pecks your lips but after parting from you for a second he comes back for more as his tongue pushes between your lips. You freeze when he’s stealing another part of you, licking into your mouth while his brother prolongs his climax with short thrusts into your swollen pussy.

Finally Tommy parts from you and straightens up grabbing his cock. “Fuck, Joel, my turn. This bitch is so hot.” He looks into your eyes while Joel pulls out his semi hard cock, and you feel his cum leaking out of your stretched hole and slide down to your asshole.

The men switch positions and now Joel is standing over you while Tommy gets on the bed between your shaking legs. He sits on his heels staring at your hole and says in a calm but stern voice, “Squeeze it out, princess.” It’s so sick that you’re blinking at him until suddenly he directs his gun at you and repeats his command a little louder, “I said squeeze out the cum, little slut!”

You swallow loudly and tighten your muscles. With a satisfied grin he’s watching a string of milky liquid flow out of your hole.

“We need to hurry up,” Joel rumbles, zipping up his pants.

“Yeah, yeah…” Tommy replies, seemingly deaf to his brother’s words, his gaze fully focused on your pussy.

Still having his gloves on he brings his hand to your folds and pushes two fingers into your hole. Then he takes them out and climbs over your body. Without a word be pushes the leathered digits between your lips,with an order, “Clean them up, princess.” You do as you’re told, tasting Joel’s bitter cum and leather on your tongue.

“Good slut,” Tommy half praises half degrades you watching your tongue swirl around his covered digits.

“Fuck, Tommy, come on!” Joel hurries up his brother and the younger man finally listens, gets between your thighs and pushes his cock in with a growl. He slides in easily, your pussy wet with Joel’s cum and stretched out well.

“Come on, baby, let’s win this thing,” he says and you mewl, knowing what’s coming next.

Joel’s hand hits your pussy harsher than Tommy’s and you jolt from the pain. The younger man is hissing through his teeth looking at your swollen reddish folds. He shivers and grips your hips tighter. “Fuck you’re choking my cock, baby!”

Joel doesn’t wait long to stroke you again and a tear slides down the side of your face. Tommy shuts his eyes tilting his head back and as another slap lands on your poor clit you moan and squeeze Tommy’s cock so well it pushes him over. His balls tighten and he shoots his cum deep inside your core. His seed mixes with Joel’s and it’s too much cum for your poor pussy so it leaks out of you in globs pushed out by Tommy’s cock still moving inside you. When he stills panting heavily, he pulls out and announces, “Three-three, bro! Guess we’re both suckers for her pussy”. He tucks his cock away hastily and when he’s ready he leans over your swollen mound and gives it a peck, whispering, “killer-pussy!”

Joel is already gathering the things they’re taking with them and you’re lying not moving a muscle wishing for them to forget about you and leave. But soon Joel comes up to the bed and you see a phone in his hand. He reaches to your face and you flinch, “Shhh, sweetheart, it’s gonna be over soon. Just wanna take a few photos, for the memories,” he mocks you with a smirk trying to fix your messy hair and wiping your face with his sleeve.

“Give me, I’ll do it,” Tommy appears from behind Joel taking the phone from his brother. He directs the camera at your face and commands, “Smile, princess, show us how happy you’re that we’re leaving.”

You smile weakly and he takes a few photos of you splayed on the bed, marks covering your skin. He makes you open your legs and takes a photo of your pussy leaking out their spend on your marital bed. Then he’s checking the photos and mumbles talking to you ,

“You’re a great fuck, princess. Can’t believe your asshole of a husband gets to have you whenever he wants…he’ll have a hard time filling your pussy after we stretched you that good,” he laughs and adds, “we might come back for more one day.” He says it in a seemingly benign manner looking into your eyes but you see a threat rooted in his words. “Keep your little mouth shut and forget our faces or these pictures of you will be everywhere. Surely your hubby will have to say bye-bye to his political career. You got me?” His gaze is serious and intent and you nod hastily.

Your heart is beating fast when you see Tommy take black bags from Joel. Will they keep their promise and leave you alive?

“Take care, princess,” you hear Tommy’s voice as he puts his balaclava back on and walks out of the door. Joel doesn’t say anything. With his face already covered he heads to the door, stops right outside and turns his head to you. He brings his gloved finger to his lips in a silent sign, and then leaves as quietly as he came.

Thank you for reading!

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!❤️

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #deaddovedecember2023 #joel miller x you #tommy miller x you #pedro pascal #dark joel miller #dark tommy miller #pedro pascal characters #joel miller #the last of us #tw noncon #tw dead dove #cw noncon #non con #dark fic

[pedgito]

𝐌𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 (AU) — Joel Miller X Fem!Reader

Summary: I made a joke about wanting to screw dirt-covered Joel even if he was deep in the trenches of hell and...well, yeah. This is pure filth and nothing else. Porn with minuscule plot, if you will | beta'd by @planet-marz1 & @beskarandblasters.

Word Count & Warnings: 6k | 18+, fem!reader, demon!joel, no specific age gap since dude is a literal demon, but reader is early 20s and I picture Joel to be his younger self (around 36), mentions of su*cidal ideations, this all a completely made up concept pls don't come for me about rituals, ect i will cry. virgin!reader, reader's father is a priest and horrible (just a total douche)/mother isn't alive, spitting, oral, unprotected piv, blood drinking, competency kink, innocence kink, mutual masturbation, if i missed anything let me know!

Heaven forbid you end up in a situation like this.

No, literally. Heaven specifically forbids it.

You’ve done the research, the hours and hours of scavenging online in search of the proper offerings, the right way to to complete this…ritual.

It’s foreign and completely out of your element.

As if anyone was familiar with this, beside the defunct group of people that completed these rituals for entertainment but were very swiftly ran out of town, though you’re sure they lay dormant somewhere.

You weren’t sure if any of them were attempting to summon demons to make deals with either, but here you were.

Standing at a dark and lonely crossroads in your hometown, on your knees, begging for anyone to answer your pleas.

Not prayers—nothing like that. 

You check and double-check the carefully drawn sigils, recounting the incantation in your head to make sure you said it right, knowing that everything you buried in the small dirt pile in the ground was what was required. Even ripped off the cross necklace your father had gifted you as a child and threw it in a nearby field, not wanting to take any chances.

Maybe this was pointless, hoping on a whim that all those stories were true, that there were other forces at play. Good or evil, it didn’t matter.

Your naivety was showing, the blade held tightly in your left hand was shaking and you thought maybe…just a small drop, maybe it would help.

And you’re almost breaking skin when there’s a solid woosh behind you, the cold draft goosebumping your bare skin, knowing this dress was a mistake, once pristine and white now matted with spatterings of dirt and filth.

“Oh my,” The voice singsongs low from over your shoulder, “now, what is this?”

The knife clatters to the ground loudly.

You chance a glimpse over your shoulder, expression meek and fearful as you take in the man before you.

That’s what he was.

All man, nothing like what you’ve been told to believe. No horns, no wings, no overtowering presence to send you running in the opposite direction. Nothing like the stories you’ve heard as a child.

And he’s rightfully beautiful—clearly defined edges to his jaw, a stature that felt both threatening and comforting, he held himself high, a proper posture that had to have been learned. Taught. Drilled and instilled into his outwardly behavior. He smiles wide, bright and shining teeth behind plush lips and a nose that screamed god-like but you knew he was anything but. 

“Speak up, now,” He taunts, voice gravelly and thick, whether it is a forced dialect or not, you hear no flaws—he sounds familiar, looks familiar, and you feel it all may be a ruse, but you don’t question it, “busy night and I’m not being paid to have my time wasted on curious little vermin like you.”

Oh, there it was.

Still, you found yourself nervous as you spoke, suddenly forgetting all rational thinking or why you were even here, scrambling before him. 

His footsteps are warning sounds against the pavement as he approaches you, tucking a stray hair behind your ear before he waits, expectantly, a sickeningly sweet smile plastered across his face. 

“Tick tock,” He warns, “why did you summon me, sweetheart?”

The endearment feels odd and misplaced, but it still has your insides turning in a way they shouldn’t.

“I—uh,” Your voice is feeble, unsure, “do you—do you think I’m pretty?”

He looks genuinely confused, eyebrows shooting up slightly at your question.

He’s seen a lot, heard just about everything, but this was new. And from a beautiful, timid specimen like you, no less. 

“If you want me to say yes, I will.” He offers.

He would’ve agreed anyways—he might not typical most of the indulgences with the human race, but he wasn’t blind. 

“But, really,” Another gentle touch that you find yourself leaning into, like he could hear your own desperate desires spinning around in your mind, plucking them out carefully and storing them in his own, “why have you called me here?”

“I…don’t remember,” You admit softly, “I—I—“

It’s his unnerving presence that has robbed all rational thinking, as if summoning a devil was a good idea to begin with. But, he’s standing before you and suddenly you have nothing to offer, nothing proposition him with.

Because, really, what were you willing to trade your soul for? A better life? It was impossible.

He cups your face firmly, thumbs pressing into soft, supple flesh, and really—who was he to waste such a beautiful opportunity?

He’s used to older men—addicts, drunks, men who were nothing good for this world and did more harm than good. Still, a job was a job, taking souls was the easy part.

What followed was…much more intense.

He enjoys the reaction of the pathetic people on their knees, begging for any alternative—aside from the few who have seemed more than willing. He would never press the agreement, just a solid—

“Well, enjoy your pathetic little life then.” And disappears, no flare or show.

His time wasn’t to be wasted.

Yet, here he was, tending to the sad sight of you.

“Why are you upset?” He ponders softly, feeling your body thrum beneath his fingertips, the pulse of your heart quickening. “You’ve called me here for a reason.”

“I—hate living like this,” You admit quietly, “my father, he has these values, rules, I don’t want to—I don’t understand them. He constantly compares me to other women, berates me and criticizes how I dress, how I look.”

He pauses for a moment, like he’s sifting through the rolodex in his brain, but even just a touch against your skin and he can absorb every precious memory stored away in your mind.

“Your daddy,” He grins, “religious type, huh?”

“He’s..a priest.” You admit.

Jackpot.

 “And—and he’s horrible. He—he cheated, back when my mom was still alive. She—she died a few years ago, drunk driver. But—I just—”

He feels a desire to make you better, ease this pain.

But, there are a few stipulations.

“Oh, sweetheart,” He coos, “I think I may be able to help.”

You close your eyes in relief, taking a deep breath through your nose.

Suddenly his lips are brushing against your ear and it ignites a fire inside your body, a feeling that was new and strange, exhilarating too.

“First, how ‘bout you call me Joel.” He offers, “I go by that up here.”

Right. Up here. Not down in hell.

You fight your curiosity and nod.

“Oh—okay, Joel?” You repeat curiously.

“Perfect.” He smiles, pulling back to look at you.

He feels he might be reprimanded for the idea brewing in his head.

Like, the king of hell might have a bone to pick with him. But, he was his best—there was no wrong that Joel could commit. Plus, he was feeling a little selfish. 

Someone so easily influenced, willing—who was he to pass on this opportunity?

“You’re unhappy with your life?” He inquires to confirm, planting the seed in your mind.

“Yes, very much.” You speak quietly, licking your lips briefly and catching the way Joel’s eyes track it, his own lips parting slightly.

It’s almost hard to believe that this was just a skin, that whatever was underneath had to be much more intimidating and terrifying, but you focus on his face, fearful that if you let your mind wander you might end up a sobbing mess. 

“And you would like me to make it…better?”

You nod subtly, a quick jerky movement that Joel would’ve missed had he not been paying apt attention to you.

You had potential. He could see it in your expression, pliable—teachable. It was the perfect concoction. 

“That’s a mighty big ask, sweetheart.” Joel counters, a hint of playfulness in his tone.

“Please…please, I don’t know what else to do—”

Joel shushes you comfortingly, one of the hands holding your cheek slowly moves to the back of your head, cradling it.

“Well, I could kill your daddy,” Joel offers, “but…really, that’s no fun.”

You stay silent. The idea wasn’t totally deranged, as much as you hated your father. But, you can feel Joel on the precipice of another offer, something you fear you won’t be able to resist.

“Or, you come with me.” Joel offers, a malicious grin growing across his face, “And I can make that pathetic little life so much better.”

Your eyes search his face frantically for any signs of deceit, but they show nothing but the truth.

He wants you. He wants to have you, tuck you under his metaphorical wings and make you one of his own—and you find yourself nodding before you allow your thoughts to wander or doubt to seep in.

“I—I will, please.” You beg, “Just—how does this…work?”

Oh, you poor thing.

“Well—”

“Just a kiss, right?” You wander curiously, hands fisting into the lapels of his suit—the gaudy uniform he was forced to wear when he was on earth, quite a shame.

His pointer finger traces the delicate lines of your face, his thumb rubbing against the tip of your nose, down the cupid’s bow of your lip, before pulling gently at your bottom lip, the plump flesh snapping back into its previous position.

“Not…exactly.” He responds, “This deal requires more. A solid connection.”

“So…” The words linger in the air like a suffocating blanket of mystery.

“Have you ever been fucked before?” Joel asks bluntly, your eyes widening in response.

“Um—” You hesitate briefly, “Not…no, not really.”

Well. That was a first.

“Not really?” Joel questions your wording, silently asking you to elaborate. 

It was his own curiosity getting the better of him. 

“Just..some touching.” You offer blandly, “Over—over the clothes, you know?”

Yeah. Of course. 

You were talking about your sexual inexperience to a demon who had half the mind to claim you where you stood, but here he was, curious. He couldn’t explain the intrigue he had for you, but the moment he set eyes on you, he’d had plans.

Joel offers a soft kiss to the tip of your nose, your eyes closing briefly as he moves in.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” Joel reassures, “When I’m finished, you won’t feel so clueless.”

And with a deft snap of his fingers, you’re plunged into darkness.

-

You’re thankful Joel is there to catch you, knees buckling as you transverse through the planes of existence—it’s the only thing you can assume as your surroundings change in an instant.

You weren’t in the middle of nowhere Texas anymore, rather a room filled with dark, leather furniture and amenities you were almost positive Joel had no use for. No chains or torture devices like you might’ve assumed. Just a low light room that could’ve doubled as an open-floor apartment.

This must be where deals are sealed, eyeing the litany of different surfaces Joel would probably plan to consume you over, suddenly feeling completely out of your mind for taking his offer.

He senses your panic, his touch an odd comfort as he whispers, “Don’t worry, you have some leverage here.”

Even if he was lying, you relaxed slightly.

“This deal is…different.” The word feels like a ruse, but he can't find another way to explain.

“It’s not just your soul, but all of it.” He runs a hand down your face, chest, stopping at the swell of your breasts before continuing his way down, calloused fingers playing with the hem of your suddenly pristine, white dress.

No dirt or grime found, it was like the old dress had been snatched away and replaced with a new one.

“You stay here, with me.” Joel explains. “You work for me, with me.”

You stay silent, listening to his offer.

“And you will be mine.”

There it was.

“So…a partnership?” You surmise, feeling his wandering fingertips splay along your thigh, squeezing the flesh in his hands.

“Mmm,” He hums thoughtfully, “more like a mentorship.”

You nod, quickly understanding.

“There’s so much I can teach you,” Joel explains, “That I will teach you.”

His hand gropes your ass suddenly, pulling a gasp from your chest. His nostrils flare at your reaction, teeth bared under his sullen expression.

“Are you ready to offer yourself over to me, sweetheart?”

“Yeah—yes.” You reply, strengthening your resolve and answer clearly.

Joel smirks devilishly—which, in retrospect, yeah. It makes sense. But, there’s a true evil behind his eyes that you’ve yet to witness and had your insides stirring with intrigue. 

Unlike most, he was planning to take his time with you.

-

You expect things to progress with intensity, but they don’t.

Joel graciously guides you toward the couch in the room, taking a seat in the middle before guiding your legs over his lap, allowing you to take a proper seat and relax, his hands exploring exposed skin, fingertips rubbing at the thin strap of your dress snug against your shoulder and drags it down slowly, tracing his fingers along the line of your shoulder.

“Can I…ask you something?” You hesitate to speak, eyes closed as you tilt your head to the side, feeling his finger tips dig into your skin as his hand wraps around the side of your neck, his other hand busy discovering what lies beneath, performing a similar action with the strap until your dress falls to your waist, exposing your breasts.

He runs a careful fingering over your nipple, the bud hardening underneath his touch, before his eyes, and he thinks it may be the most heavenly thing he’s witnessed so far, given his course of work.

“Go on.” He responds, distracted, leaning forward to latch his mouth to your clavicle, the wet heat of his tongue pressed deliciously against your skin.

“Is this—is this you?” You ask innocently, allowing yourself a bold touch to his face, delicate fingers follow the angular parts of his face until you find your hands seeking the softness of his curls, moaning softly as his mouth ravishes your skin and bites hungrily, but playfully. “Is this your…natural form?”

Curiosity was natural. And it wasn’t the first time he’s been asked if the skin he wears is his own.

The answer is fairly simple.

“No,” He responds, “but, I prefer this. It’s much more—appealing than the other. More approachable.”

“O-Oh,” You sigh, his hands disregarding your breasts to squeeze at your waist, dragging your hips forward to feel his hardening cock underneath you, confined to his slacks but very persistent. If your soul wasn’t already gone, it definitely left your body then, “um…another question?”

Joel chuckles, toothy smile shining up at you as he watches your eyes dilate with pleasure, knowing you were enjoying this. He nods again.

“The, uh, guy—how do you—”

“Are you wondering how I came to acquire this skin?” He finishes for you.

You nod slightly, hearing the faintness of his zipper as he lifts you slightly, enough to shift his slacks down his hips to relieve some of the pressure.

“I’m really not supposed to talk about deals,” Joel drones on, but he knows he’s going to tell you anyways, “but—he was a desperate man, begging me to bring his young daughter back to life. Unfortunately, the boss has a strict policy on resurrections,” He explains, like it’s all merely a simple transaction, though to him it was, “so, he begged me to kill him instead.”

“And you did?”

Joel nods, the distinct rip of fabric as he splits your dress in half and discards it, leaving you naked aside from the thin fabric of underwear that held snug on your hips.

“Sort of. Didn’t seem fair that he went to waste,” He shrugs, “and while he doesn’t occupy this body anymore and I didn’t take his soul, I do occupy the vessel for as long as I please or until I find something better.”

Though, he’s grown fond of this disguise. Taking on his likeness and name, it made deals far more easier when people were willing to approach him. His quota are up, he was rising in the ranks, it was all looking up for him.

Normally, you’d feel the urge to hide yourself away, terrified at being gawked at so openly, but there’s a hunger behind Joel’s gaze that feeds your ego and desire, unadulterated lust behind his eyelids.

“You sucked a cock before?” He asks crudely, but then he’s tipping your chin up, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb, and you can’t offer anything but the truth.

If you had lied he would’ve known in a second.

You shake your head, allowing the slow slide of his thumb past your lips, pressing down on your tongue, pulling your face forward with the leverage and your lips close around the digit instinctively.

“Sweetheart, have you even seen one before?”

There’s a lingering silence that confirms his suspicions.

“Get on your knees,” He offers, spreading his legs until he can pull his slacks off entirely, removing his jacket haphazardly, leaving him in a crisp white button up, tie still secured tightly around his neck—“Go on.”

You found yourself staring, moving obediently as he guides you to the floor, lips hung open slightly as you can feel your tastebuds yearning for a taste of him. It’s mouth-watering, really. 

His arms are spread over the back of the couch and he’s waiting, looking at you expectantly.

“Gotta lot to teach you, honey,” He tells you, “better if you learn with a hands on approach—go on and take a peek.”

You shift on wobbly knees, pulling at the waistband of his underwear—it is far from anything you’ve imagined or expected, full in girth and weight as his cock bobs heavily against his stomach, a small string of precum staining his shirt in the process. You can’t help the way your lips part, almost imagining the stretch as you’d force it to fit in your mouth.

God, would it even fit?

And the thought of it inside of you—terrifying, but still exhilarating. 

You’re doing the mental math in your head, tilting your head curiously as your brow scrunches in thought. Eight, bordering on nine inches and all thick and uncut, and well-trimmed at the base. But, the part that makes you bite your lip hard enough you can taste blood is the way he rolls his balls tenderly in his palm, almost as mouth-watering to you as the sight of his cock.

Joel knows fascination when he sees it, unrestrained and every so curious. 

He’s never encountered a virgin before, not like you. He’s dealt with inexperienced, bad etiquette, but never someone so hopelessly clueless. And yet, still so willing to learn.

You were sent to him, he thinks. Rather than he to you. There was no other way this would end.

You were his now, even without knowing.

And truthfully, that was fine with you.

Joel grins lazily, the hands fondling his balls slowly moving to his shaft, wrapping around his own girth and down his shaft in a motion that has your eyes drawing to the pink, weeping head.

“Give me your hand.” Joel instructs, extending his free hand to you and encircling his fingers around your wrist to replace his own grip, nothing in comparison to what his large hands could cover.

Testingly, you copy his motions as you squeeze your grip around his cock and mimic a slow up and down motion on his shaft, watching as the foreskin swallows the tip and then pulling back as you feel bold, pressing your tongue against the slit and lapping up the heady taste of him.

It shouldn’t feel like this. This was sinful.

“Hey, hey,” He coos, voice softening as he leans in, hand wrapping around the front of your neck and pushing you back slightly, “don’t get ahead of yourself there, darlin’.”

“I thought—”

His thumb pulls at your bottom lip, saliva spreading against the fleshy tissue and he chuckles.

“You want a taste?” He asks, earning a confirming nod from you. “Open your mouth.”

And rather than allowing you his cock, he gathers a small amount of saliva in his mouth and squeezes your own mouth open by your cheeks, spitting directly into your waiting mouth, eyes widening in disbelief. 

You were missing out on. So. Fucking. Much.

“Close and swallow,” He tells you, waiting until you listen, which doesn’t take much push on his part, noticing how obedient you were from the moment he approached you, “already listenin’ so well, sweetheart.”

He releases the tight hold on your face and slumps back into his previous position, cock held firmly in his hands as he taps them against your slack lips, nose flaring slightly as your tongue slips out, lapping at the tip gently. Swirling around the head carefully as you spread your lips, letting him feed his cock slowly into your mouth, slow enough to allow you time to adjust. Gain your bearings.

He’s being gentle, for now—he wants to push your limits. You can feel it, the way he’s restraining himself as his free hand squeezes the cushion beneath him, blunt nails scratching the fabric. 

Suddenly, you remember you have hands, feeling them lay numb and useless at your side you quickly gain your bearings and replace his hand with a soft shove and he can see your confidence grow with every solid inch you take. The soft, velvetiness of his dick so welcoming in your mouth, nudging at the back of your throat as you breath sharply pushing until it strings, eyes watering. You pull back with a soft gasp, Joel’s eyes following your movement, drawn to you with an inability to look away, and the faint string of spit that connects your lips to his head still is enough to have him cumming right there, if he wanted.

But, he wanted to savor this. To devour and take.

He gives you a subtle nod of encouragement as you return your lips to his shaft, dragging a long line from root to tip with your tongue before swirling around the tip gently and forcing him into your mouth in one go and out, again. Again. Again. Until your jaw aches with a pain that is welcomed and he seems to take notice—a solid hand cradling your jaw as he rubs at the sore spot with a gentle touch, so juxtaposed to the man he should be.

The man he was. He was holding back, for your sake.

“Can’t believe you’ve never sucked cock before,” He drones on, chin tilted down as he looked upon you, wide eyes staring back, “you wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

You shake your head honestly, mouth still stuck firmly around him as you bow your head slowly, letting him guide you further down again, stopping only when you feel the urge to gag to then trail your tongue down his sack, the heaviness of his balls weighing against your tongue, allowing the process to repeat several times until he’s satisfied, a sharp hiss through his teeth as he pulls you off roughly, hand fisting into your hair.

‘C’mere,” He mumbles, guiding you a little too harshly into his lap, groaning at the sting as he pulls you taught, lips pressing together in a messy, tireless exchange. You couldn’t even call it a kiss, just tongue and teeth and heated noises as you explore each other curiously, noting how intoxicating it felt to kiss him—the hint that maybe there was something about him that casted a spell on you, not just his charming looks and personality. It’s almost impossible to believe you were minutes away from sharing a bed with the one thing your father used to tell you to fear for your life.

And here you were, ready to toss your soul over for a fix to your life.

But, if Joel was willing to catch you, there was nothing that would stop you.

-

Joel guides you to the bed with a practiced precision, letting you fall gently as he loosens his tie, unbuttoning his shirt with quick, sharp movements, shrugging it down his shoulders—alas, allow you an unobscured view of beautiful, tan skin and imperfections. A reminder that this body was once human, that it had lived. You rise slightly, pressing up on your palms as you reach out a hesitant hand to press against his chest, the soft scratch of your nails against his stomach causing him to tense slightly, catching your wrist tightly, stalling your movements.

“Now, I could be nice about this,” Joel begins, “prep you right and let you come around my fingers first,” You perk up slightly, struggling against his hold as you felt the need to disobey, to touch him just once more, “that what you want?”

You nod hesitantly, earning an inquisitive look from Joel.

“Sweetheart, tell me you’ve touched yourself before?” 

He’d snap if you said no—it might actually break him.

“Of course.” You reply quickly, offering a fiendish smirk.

He laughs lowly at your unabashed honesty, releasing your wrist to trade for a finger under your chin, tilting your chin up slightly.

“Show me.” He purrs, “Show me how you like to touch yourself.”

His hands follow the slope of your legs as you lean back against the plush pillows, helping the spread of your thighs with the back of his hand, taking in the sight of you with fresh eyes, in all your untouched glory. Cunt glistening with a need that has been growing and growing since he first touched you, folds dripping with a slick wetness as you spread your fingers down your core and applying a gentle pressure to your clit that was welcoming, safe. It was a feeling you were familiar with. 

But, Joel doesn’t want that. 

He allows a few minutes, uninterrupted, selfishly admiring the sight of you. Head thrown back, fingers working away tirelessly as they traded between dipping inside of you for that yearned feeling of pressure, to be filled, before sliding back up to your clit, rubbing at the sensitive bundle of nerves until you were panting, threateningly his name hung at the back of your throat, unable to find the courage to look at him this deep in your own seek of pleasure and release.

His fingers trace but never stray to close, they stretch your limits by edging the seams of your thighs but never to the point where it breaks your concentration, but somewhere between the almost sigh of his name and his quick ascent onto the mattress as it dips slightly, his fingers are replacing your own with a deep, thankful moan.

“Joel,” You finally sigh, “oh—that’s—”

“Better?”

“So much,” You whine, “So much bigger, fuck—”

“Dirty,” He clicks his tongue, “kiss all the boys around town with that mouth?”

“Maybe,” You shrug innocently, “but—fuck—never let them fuck me, Joel.”

Joel nods knowingly as one finger becomes two, sensitive hole fluttering around his fingers and squeezing, greedy. He knows it is going to be a tight fit, difficult, but not impossible. You rest your full weight into the bed, giving up the attempt to stay upright and fight for some leverage here—it was useless with his fingers inside of you, working you over like he’s known your body for years, every touch overlapping the next and driving you mad, feeling your body shake as you neared the edge, ready to jump off and into his arms, knowing he would catch you.

But, he wasn’t going to allow that.

“Not yet, sweetheart.”

 He can sense it before you do, so in tune with your body. He grips your thighs suddenly, settling them over his hips as he leaned on his calves, pressing the head of his cock near your entrance teasingly, watching as you tensed around nothing, void of his fingers too. 

“Can’t waste the opportunity of your first time without my cock being stuffed inside you when you come,” There’s another gentle, teasing press as he slots himself more securely against your body, face cradled in his free hand as he rubs the apple of your cheek tenderly, “right?”

You nod, leaning into his touch as he pushes inside in one slow, persistent push of his hips, feeling your body shake underneath his touch, cunt already squeezing him needly, greedily pulling him in and begging for more. More. More.

He grunts softly when he’s fully sheathed inside you, settling his hands in the dips of your waist, thumbs pressed against your stomach as he pulls out to the tip, allowing another slow drag of his hips, mostly for show. 

He’s being kind. Too nice. And you don’t need that right now.

Joel laughs louder than you’re expecting, startled as he tosses his head back, picking up his pace slightly as he pistons his hips in a sharper, pointed roll. Snap. Snap. Snap.

Deeper and deeper each time. 

God, was he reading your fucking mind?

“You humans are a curious species,” He comments, “So greedy, so hateful, but there are—huh, special little beings like you.” The veins in his neck bulge as he switches positions suddenly, leaving you half folded under his willful, pliable hands, his arms barricading you in as the pace was nearing unbearable, just teetering on the edge. You yelped at the sudden change, quickly dissolving into a litany of moans as he could see the switch in your expression as he hit that special, spongy spot inside of you. “So fucking perfect.”

A glorious thing the human body was, indeed. 

“Think—think I might just have to ask my boss for a decade off,” He jokes half-heartedly, and given the context you could laugh, but you’re only slightly sure he’s joking, “keeping this pretty little pussy all to myself and fuck you until you don’t remember a damn thing.”

You don’t have words, sounds—not even a thought. The press of his cock at your cervix almost mind-numbing as you clawed at his skin, flawed but indestructible when he occupied it. 

“Not even that sweet name of yours,” He whispers it delicately in your ear, realizing that you had never properly introduced yourself but somehow he knew, “you were made for me, you know?”

Like a prophecy, destined to be fulfilled.

“Any path,” He stops briefly, voice shaky as he feels himself nearing his own end, “it would’ve led to this, sweetheart. To me.”

There’s a soft switch of something over your head, his face contorting slightly in pain as you watch through hazy, half-lidded eyes, before he’s bringing his bloody palm to your mouth.

“Wo-Woah, what—” You panic, the crimson liquid dripping down his palm slowly.

“Shhh, shhh,” He soothes, “Trust me.”

He knows you’ll take his word for it, already nodding with a surety as he raises his hand to your mouth, but he continues to talk, allowing you the reassuring words you crave.

“This bonds you to me,” He explains, “Seals the deal—no more shitty life, no more weak, poor soul to keep you tied there,” You feel the hot rush of liquid as it pours into your mouth, like a surge of power as it seeps into your tastebuds, like the strongest drug known to mankind as it filtered through your body, made you felt as if you could do anything, “it’s you—just me and you now.”

His eyes roll back as you suction your lips around the inside of his palm, moaning out a deep and strangled, “Fuuuuck—”

You’re greedy with the blood, fingers digging into his forearm as you drank hungrily, face messy with the thick liquid when he finally pulls away, leaving you in a state of dissociated euphoria. 

Floating. 

You feel the entire room fade, shifting behind him as he does the same to your own palm, a quicker and precise knick as he trades a small amount in favor of the copious amount you took from him, selfishly. 

It was intimate, too intimate. An intensity behind his eyes as they flashed a sudden shade of black as he consumed you, before quickly shifting back to their normal state, warm pools of dark honey, darkened with desire. He notices you staring at him, wandering eyes.

“Do I scare you?” He asks lowly, melting with your soft, pathetic whines.

“Nonono,” You mumble weakly, squeezing desperately around his cock, “never.”

He rests his forehead against your own, a few gentle rocks of his hips and it’s forcing you both over the precipice with little effort, guttural gasps into stale air, face mushed together as you clung to one another and panted, feeling the warmth flood between your legs as he came with a strong, forceful snap of his hips.

“Oh, baby,” He sighs, “that was—”

The room is still spinning, your mind running on a high.

“Your blood—I think it’s—” 

You can’t get the words out, his cock slipping out of you gently as he shifts, falling on the bed beside you. He grabs your wrist carefully, dragging slow fingertips up your arm, each touch like an electrical current against your skin.

“Powerful shit, isn’t it?” He chuckles softly.

You nod deftly, turning to look at him.

He looks so…normal. Like, had you met the real Joel back home, this was him.

Maybe it still was, you could never truly know.

“What…what happens now?” You ask hesitantly, “Am I—am I dead?”

Joel comforts you with a soft touch, fingers brushing your cheek as he turns you, pulls you into his chest as he follows suit and cuddles against you, still exploring your body with wandering touches, feeling every nerve-ending breathe a new life into your body.

So, not dead? You definitely didn’t feel like it.

“No,” Joel assures you, “‘Least, not really. Soulless, yes. But, your mind is still there.”

“O—okay.” You still weren’t sure what that meant.

“Memories will fade overtime,” Joel continues, “But here—with me, you’ll have leverage. Power.”

Joel traces his fingers along your chin and brings your eyes to his, “You’ll learn, I promise.” He assures, “Just a little bit of patience.”

You nod understandingly, leaning into the comforting touch he provides.

“But, in the meantime,” Joel’s eyes trace the length of your body, “there’s a lot more I can teach you, sweetheart. If you’re willing to learn.”

Luckily, you were more than willing. A wicked grin stretching across your face, and he knows then that he made the perfect choice, fate or not. This was forever.

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