#monster!joel miller x you | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

goldenlikedayl1ght · 9 months

Text

season of the witch - j. miller

a/n: first joel fic! got super into this one, and it's super long. uhhhh hope you enjoy and happy october! also want to give a huge shoutout to @luveline for her au writing and her luna lovegood!reader which was a huge inspiration to this fic. love you jade!! warnings: spooky themes, kissing, mentions of yearning, don't think too deeply about the dialogue sometimes i kind of hate this ok, ellie and reader being best friends, dana struggling, like kind of horror stuff, some angst, burns, mentions of murder word count: 5.1k summary: you've lived in the small town of everbrook for a while now, and you thought nothing could shock you anymore. you're wrong. paring: monsterhunter!joel x witch!reader now playing: season of the witch - donavan "you've got to pick up every stich/oh no, must be the season of the witch"

Ever since you moved to Everbrook, you could tell everyone around you thought of you as odd. You were twenty-two, what were you doing living in a small old cabin outside of town? Didn’t you want to go to parties, do drugs, whatever it was that kids did these days?

Maybe that’s why you loved Everbrook, it felt like time had stood still even now, years after you had visited as a small child. There was something charming about it, as if you had stepped into a fairytale. Only fairytales had less gossip than Everbrook did.

You had frequented Everbrook every Halloween as a kid. Your grandmother had lived in your cabin once, and much like you, she had a house and a mind full of secrets and spells. Your grandfather died before you were born, and that was when your grandmother hauled all her things to buy this cozy nook of Everbrook.

And every Halloween, she would whisk you and your siblings away to celebrate. The town loved Halloween and was known for its fairs and parades. And it’s dark corners.

To tourists, just like you were as a kid, whispers of vampires, ghosts and witches were just silly ways to get them to buy merchandise.

But your grandmother swore by these stories, telling you to be careful of how you spoke ill of the supernatural. And it was only on your fourteenth birthday did you truly find out why.

You could never describe it, why your grandmother showed up on the dark and stormy night that was the eve of your birthday. It was like she knew something was going on, something bigger than just turning fourteen.

When you woke up the next morning, you couldn’t control anything. Things flew off your shelves before you could fully grab them, candles lit with nothing but a gentle blow of wind from your mouth, and when you went to school that day, an infamous bully had decided to pick on you the wrong day. You just glared at her, telling her to “eat frogs.”

As the first frog hopped out of her mouth, you stood horrified. Then the next one came. And the next one.

You didn’t stop running until you got home, where your grandmother sat, swirling her spoon in her cup of tea. Her hand didn’t touch the spoon. She told you that day of the truth. That every other generation, a child is chosen to become a witch in your family. Your father missed it. And she told you the story of your grandfather, a monster hunter sent to kill her. But something had happened on that mission, something no one could explain. They had fallen in love.

And for years, your grandfather was able to tell the entire hunting community that she was off limits. When he died, he told her to move to Everbrook.

“Why Everbrook?” You had asked, and she looked at you, with this mischievous smile.

“Surely you understand, my dear.” When you said nothing, she chuckled. “There’s magic there. Magic that keeps hunters from going anywhere near the place. That’s why there are so many monsters there today. Witches, like me and you, we’re harder to find. But vampires, ghosts, demons. They’re all real. And a lot of them live on sacred land like Everbrook.” She explained. “That’s why we must go, and I must teach you how to control your gifts—”

You stood up, seemingly horrified by this idea. You weren’t some kind of freak; you were totally normal. You had no reason to go with her.

“I’m not going with you! I’m nothing like you!” You stormed off to your room, inclining her to drop the topic for now.

Time and time again, your grandmother would encourage you to let her teach you. Instead, you sheltered yourself away from the world, focusing on maintaining the abilities you had. They terrified you. You were just a kid, how could you be a scary witch, something that was made up to scare small children into behaving?

So, you never went to your grandma’s house again. And you didn’t celebrate Halloween, and for a long time, you pretended. Pretended you were normal, when you went to college, in your relationships.

But the past eventually caught up with you when your grandmother passed away. She had left you her house in Everbrook, as well as a small sum of money. She had written you a letter, begging you to move there, to read her old books and to embrace who you were.

It took you almost a year, but you did.

That was a long time ago, and yet, it was also yesterday.

You lived a peaceful life in Everbrook. You learned how to at least properly manage your magic, not yet totally mastering it. You planted a garden and made sure your vegetables and herbs were always taken care of.

You made friends with various groups of monsters, your favorite being a ghost that haunted your favorite coffee shop in town. You live a good life, one devoid of people chasing you and trying to kill you for what you could do. You were simple the village crazy person, always on the outskirts of town in your own little world.

Sure, Everbrook was a small, quaint town. A little too small at times, but you loved your small crazy time. Nothing went exceptionally wrong here.

That is, until you meet a monster hunter named Joel.

• • •

Okay, you don’t know he’s a monster hunter when you meet him. He doesn’t know you’re a witch, so what did it matter?

He had moved to Everbrook with a kid, Ellie. You wondered why. Why a man in his late forties, early fifties, would adopt a teenager, and why they would move to this strange little town, away from everything.

You meet him in the bookstore. You, in between tending to your garden and learning spells, are determined to learn how to bake. You’re a good cook, but baking doesn’t come nearly as easily to you.

He’s shopping for comic books when you see him. You note everything about him, letting your head tilt to the side as you examine him. He wears this green and black flannel, appropriate for this time of year. His jeans are this dark blue, and his boots have leaves sticking to the bottom of them. The roots of his hair, and small pieces of his beard, are gray.

You bite your tongue.

You’re suddenly seventeen years old, with your first real crush on a guy. He was your older brother’s best friend. You suppose you’ve always had a thing for older guys, then. It was just a habit you’ve picked up on. Not that you weren’t of an appropriate age, but there was still a gap.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you it was rude to stare?” He asks, not looking up from the comic he’s inspecting. Your head turns, trying to tell if he’s talking to you or someone else. Besides the bored employee at the front counter, you’re the only two people in the store.

“How’d you know I was staring?” He chuckles, looking up to you for the first time, and he’s struck by your appearance. You’re wearing these dangly crystal earrings, with lavender flowers sticking out of your belt. You wear boots too, although they’re much less dirty than his, and sticking out of them are bunched up woolly socks. You’re holding a basket, with a loaf of bread inside, as well as a jar of jam and some chocolates. Your shirt is this deep purple, and the sleeves become nice and flowy after your elbows.

“Just had this feelin’, darling.” Your cheeks flush at the nickname.

“This feeling?” You mutter to yourself, not really asking for clarification. You take a few steps forward, flipping through the comic books. You don’t look at him. “Looking for anything specific?”

“Comics for my... for a friend. Turnin’ fourteen, figured I should get her something.” He tells you. You cringe at the age, remembering your horrible fourteenth birthday.

“You have a friend that’s a fourteen-year-old girl?” You question, a light teasing tone to your voice. He gives you this look, one of sarcasm and disbelief, without a touch of annoyance or anger.

“Will you just give me a suggestion, or are you going to keep asking questions?” He asks.

“Touche.” You say, before pulling out a cool sci-fi one that had been recommended to you. “Here, get her this one.” You hand it to him, and he examines it for a few minutes, seemingly trying to get a grip on what it is and what the plot was. But, he figures his friend will enjoy it, so he glances back at you and smiles.

“Thank you,” He pauses, asking you for your name without asking for it. You tell him, and he still has this small smile on his face. “I’m Joel. Joel Miller. Am I gonna be seein’ you around?” He asks. You shrug.

“I live on the outskirts of town, in this little cottage. I only come into town every so often.”

“The old brick one with the overgrown garden?” You frown. “I live in that area, in the cabin with the blue mailbox.”

“My garden is not overgrown, Mr. Miller, it’s just full!” You defend. But it perplexes you, no one except introverts and people who want to stay hidden live in that area. You wonder what Joel Miller could possibly be hiding but convince yourself for the moment that Joel Miller is just an introvert. After all, that’s what you tell people when they ask about you. He chuckles, shaking his head.

“Then I’ll see you around, Darlin’.” He hums, and nods to you, “Thanks for the help.” Then he goes to the counter to pay for the gift, and then he’s gone. You must have this perplexed look on your face, because the woman at the counter, Angela, just smirks as she rings you up.

“He’s handsome, huh?”

“What?”

“The guy you were talking to.”

“Well, I can’t say he’s not handsome.” Your face flushes. She laughs, although not maliciously. \

“Even fairies who live on the outskirts of town like you deserve love.”

“’m not a fairy...” You mumble as you make your way out of the shop, head turning down the sidewalks to see if you can spot Joel. When you can’t, you begin your long walk home, disappointment stabbing at you the whole time.

• • •

The next time you see Joel, you go to his house.

You don’t go to see Joel, but you made these homemade chocolate chip cookies, and they turned out a lot better than you expected. You want to share your creation with someone, so you head to the cabin with the blue mailbox in hopes of finding the young girl he lives with and giving her them as a birthday present.

You decide, on the off chance that you do see Joel, to wear this cute dark green jumper, with a black layered skirt, as well as your standard black boots. You put your hair up with a bandana and head over to your destination. It’s colder than it was the other day when you met him, but it’s nice.

In your basket, you keep the cookies, as well as a bundle of flowers from your garden. You knock on the door, and a young girl answers, her hair pulled back. She wears ripped jeans, an Adventure Time tee shirt and a long-sleeved black shirt under it.

“Uh... Can I help you?” She asks.

“Hi! Does Joel live here?” You’re sure he does, but you want to make sure just in case. The girl gets this smirk on her face, and you feel your ears go red.

“You’re the one from the bookstore.”

“…He told you about me?”

“Won’t shut up about you. I’m Ellie.” She smiles, and opens the door further, inviting you to come in. “He’s upstairs, I can grab him for you—”

“Uh, I’m actually here to see you.” She stops and looks at you. “He told me it was your birthday, and I decided to give you these.” You pull out the cookies and the flowers and hand them to her. She gasps at the sight of the cookies, delicately putting the flowers down before grabbing a cookie. She hums, looking to you.

“These are amazing! I haven’t had good cookies in so long, Joel isn’t much of a baker,”

“Neither am I, honestly. I’m still learning, but I figured it was your birthday and you deserve some.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” She hums, finishing her cookie.

From the top of the stairs, you hear a familiar voice yell out, “Ellie, who was at the door?”

“Come down here and find out, old man!” You laugh, but quickly stop laughing when he comes down the stairs. His hair is wet from the shower. You want to scream at how good he looks. He just stares at you, and neither of you says anything until you decide to go first.

“Uhm, I brought cookies.” You say, “I’m sorry for the intrusion.”

“No, no, you didn’t intrude... I just, wasn’t expecting you is all.” He says honestly. You begin to look around a bit at your surroundings and realize that Joel and Ellie have been living the bachelor life, and there aren’t many boxes. You wonder if they had any boxes to begin with, since it seems they’re close but there’s something off about the whole dynamic. You can’t put your finger on it, but you see that Ellie clearly isn’t here against her will.

But who are you to judge? You live a witch’s life, and that isn’t something you share on a first date.

“Well, help yourself to a cookie,”

“Hey! You said these were my birthday cookies!”

“Ellie!” Joel scolds, looking back at you. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“Sure, that would be nice.” You smile, and he gets you one. “Would you like to go outside to talk?” You ask softly, and he just smiles and nods, grabbing a cookie before going out with you and your coffee. You lean against the porch railing, sipping your coffee. You wait for him to begin the conversation, suddenly quite nervous.

“So…How long have you lived in Everbrook?”

“A while. Are you gonna be here for a while?” You ask.

“I think so. I like it here, nice, and quiet.”

“Yeah, it’s nice.” You hum. “How’d you wind up with Ellie?”

“I uhm… I adopted her. Knew her folks.”

“Oh, I’m sorry...”

“’s alright...” He smiles gently and sips his coffee. “She liked that comic book you recommended, so thanks...”

“No problem. She’s a nice kid.” You smile.

“So, what’s your deal, Darlin’?”

“My deal?”

“You’re always dressed in these crazy outfits, and you have this dazed look about you. Like a little bunny.” Your face flushes, and you laugh.

“I just like living the simple life. So, what if I dress a little eccentrically? You dress like a lumberjack all the time, am I gonna see you chopping trees?” You tease, smiling gently. He laughs and it makes you all warm inside. Maybe he really likes you.

“No, no chopping trees for me.” he said gently, leaning against the banister.

“Well, what do you do for work?” He pauses and stares out into the forest ahead of him.

“I used to be a hunter.”

A chill runs down your spine, and you begin to think. It would make sense, his sudden showing up in Everbrook, his interest in you. But how does that connect back to Ellie? Why would he adopt a teenager in his line of work?

Why hasn’t he killed you, then?

“Yeah. My grandfather was a hunter. Until he met my grandmother, then he couldn’t do it anymore.”

Joel stays silent, sipping his coffee.

• • •

About a week goes by, and Joel shows up at your door. The top part of your door is swung open and you’re cooking dinner when he walks up the path through your garden. He calls your name into the open door, and you quickly appear. You grin at him, and then you notice the bouquet of wildflowers he holds in his hands.

“These are for you.” he says softly, and you take them, a large grin on your face.

“Thank you. They’re gorgeous.” You tell him.

“Pretty girl like you deserves pretty flowers.” He says, and your cheeks flush.

“Please, come in.” You tell him, opening the bottom of the Dutch door. He steps inside, and notices how warm it is. Not temperature wise, but there’s this feeling to it. Warm yellow lights, plants everywhere, the smell of dinner cooking on the stove. Somewhere from deeper in the house, music plays.

“What’re you cookin’?”

“Oh, I’m making chicken parm…Do you want to stay for dinner?” You’ve never asked anyone to stay for dinner, it’s a bizarre feeling.

“I’d like that.”

“Alright, good. Then set the table, and then we can eat.” You tell him. He hums and goes to do as he is told. Eventually, you manage to plate and serve dinner, sitting across from him. You watch him for his reaction to the food, and after a few bites he just hums lowly, and looks at you, pointing to the dish with his fork, not saying anything. You grin. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Thank you for having me for dinner. I came over to apologize, really.”

“Apologize?”

“I didn’t mean to tell you I was a hunter. I know how off putting that could be for someone, to hear I hunted animals.”

You can’t confirm your suspicions that he was hunting more than just animals. So you let it go, in favor for him not pushing you and finding out that you were a witch.

“It’s alright, Joel. Everyone has to make a living somehow, right?” You hum. He smiles and nods. “So, where’s Ellie tonight?”

“Eh, I wanted to give her some time to herself.”

“Good man.” You smile, continuing to eat your food.

“Where’d you happen to come upon this little cottage?” He asks you, tilting his head.

“I inherited it from my grandmother.” You told him, a soft smile on your face, as there always was when you thought of her. “She was a good woman. She passed away when I was twenty-one.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He tells you, and you can tell by this look in his eyes that there’s something more to his sentiment. That this is a man who has known grief well and is haunted by it. You wonder if he toured the country killing people like you before or after he became good friends with grief.

“It’s okay. I got to move here and live a good life.” You confess, and this makes him smile again. Then, you can’t help but ask. “Why’d you move to Everbrook, Joel?” He tenses at your questions. You can tell he’s contemplating what to tell you. You know whatever he tells you will only be a half truth no matter what.

“Ellie got into some trouble where I used to live. Figured a place like this would be good for her. Safe.” You can tell it’s not a lie, but you aren’t satisfied with it. That’s when you realize you have to know. You do know that all hunters have the same tattoo, right above their inner elbow on their biceps. It’s always a bow and arrow, with the hunter’s initials incorporated into the arrow. You also know the tattoo is protected by some sort of seal that burns most creatures to the touch. You have to know. So, with a wave of your hand, subtly, the glass of wine Joel drinks from spills all over his flannel, and he huffs.

“Oh my god, here,” You start handing him napkins as he attempts to clean up the mess. He glances up at you, and his eyes have this look about them. Like he knows you were the reason it spilt. Then, he starts to unbutton and pull off his flannel before he suddenly remembers that you would see his Hunter’s mark. You realize he knows your plan and stand, going over to him and dabbing his flannel with your napkin.

“C’mon Joel, take the flannel off.” You sigh, and he says nothing. He slowly begins to pull off the flannel, but before you can really look for a tattoo, his hands are on your waist, pulling you between his legs.

He leans up and kisses you before you can see the tattoo. You put your hands on his cheeks and kiss back, bringing yourself closer to him. He hums into the kiss, standing up and walking, so that you’re up against your counter tops.

His hands are roaming your sides, and you groan softly into the kiss. The desperation you’ve had since you met him, it all comes to a head. Your hands first go to his hair, where they play with his hair, including the grays that threaten to push you over the edge.

Despite your suspicions that he wants to kill you, you want him desperately. You groan as he bites your lip, tugging it a bit, and you just moan. Your hand runs down his arm, because just for a moment, you forget the context of the kiss.

You pull away when your hand starts to burn, letting out a yell.

He looks terrified that you’ve found him out. Tears prick your eyes.

“I knew it..” You whisper softly, turning to run your hand under cold water. Joel’s tattoo glows, as it always did when anything supernatural touched it. “I think you should go.”

“Darlin’, I—”

“Go, Joel! I don’t want you here, just fucking kill me when I’m walking home from the market! Don’t kiss me like you want me when you’re here to kill me!” You snap, tears running down your face. He doesn’t say anything after that. He steps forward and kisses your shoulder gently.

He turns and leaves, and even though you tell him to leave, you turn back hoping to see him.

The worst part is that nothing makes sense anymore. He’s stronger than you. If he wanted to kill you, he could have. And how does Ellie fit into the situation, why would he move to a magical town with a teenage girl?

You’re frustrated, and your hand is burning. You cry some more as you attempt to clean the spilt wine, frustrated that it stains the rug that the table stands on. You were such an idiot, why would you let him kiss you? Why would you kick him out after?

You decide a cup of tea will help clear your mind, but you don’t stop crying all night.

• • •

The full moon looks beautiful tonight. You’ve charged your crystals and have done your monthly rituals to enable a prosperous month ahead. So, at around midnight, you go for a walk through the woods. Even though you know how dangerous it is. The woods, on nights like tonight, are full of werewolves. But most of them live in their own woods across town, so you don’t expect to have any problems.

As you’re walking, you’re thinking about Joel. You can’t help it, your kiss has you yearning for more, and you’re just desperate for him. You’re too deep in your thoughts to hear footsteps behind you, until someone grabs your arm and you’re pulled behind a tree.

And when you see Joel, you’re even more mad at him.

“What’re you doin’ here?!” He whisper-yells, and you glare.

“What are you doing here?! I’m allowed to go for walks whenever I want, you aren’t the boss of me!”

“Always so damn in your own mind, could you consider for a moment that I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay?!”

“You’re here to kill me!”

“I’m here to make sure Ellie doesn’t kill anyone or get herself killed!”

You stop.

“What...?” That’s when you hear it, a howl. It sends a shiver down your spine. And that’s when it all clicks. Joel isn’t hunting you; he isn’t here to kill you. Ellie isn’t a kid he adopted from a friend, she’s someone he’s assigned to protect. He used to hunt, but not anymore. “She’s a werewolf.” You look at him.

“And you’re a witch, are we all caught up now?”

“How’d you know?’

“Before the mark burnt you and you spilled my wine? I just knew. I hunted people for years, but you witches, you always have these cabins in the woods, and you’re always baking, and you always have flowers. It’s like y’all are one big stereotype—” He’s cut off by your lips on his, and his hands are on your hips again, pushing you against a nearby tree. You hum before he pulls away, starting to kiss down your neck.

“Joel...” You say softly, your hands in his hair.

“I’ve got you, sweet thing...” He mutters, biting down on your neck, leaving a mark.

Ellie howls again, closer now. It snaps you both out of your trance and you look to each other. He grabs your hand, and you make your way through the woods, back to your cabin. He’ll make sure you get home safe, and then he’ll continue to look after Ellie. But he hears it before you—Panting, pattering steps behind you.

“Run!” He tells you and you both take off. Twigs scrape the bottoms of your legs and your arms as you run, never letting go of Joel’s hand. Your skirt catches on one of these branches and you topple over, letting go of Joel’s hand. Before he can reach you, Ellie is on top of you—She’s smaller than other werewolves you’ve encountered but the weight of her fur is too much. She has you caged in, and she has this snarl on her face.

Then, the strangest thing happens. She starts to sniff your skin, as if trying to figure out who you are.

“It’s me, Ellie. It’s just me, ‘m not gonna hurt you, honey.” You tell her. And it’s as if a lightbulb switches inside of her head, and suddenly she’s licking your face, happy you’re here. You groan at the slober, and gently push her head away from you.

She backs off, letting you get up. You kneel back down to scratch her head.

“Why were we running if we knew she wouldn’t kill me?” You ask.

“Didn’t know that. She doesn’t attack me, but she’s attacked others.” He tells you. You hum, picking up a stick and waving it in front of her face, before throwing it as far as you can. She runs off to get the stick. It makes you laugh.

You stand fully now, glancing back to Joel.

“So…”

“I gotta finish looking after her. She’s my mission now.” You nod, stepping closer to him.

“Well..” You start, your hands on his shoulders. “You could at least kiss me again.” He grins and leans down, kissing you softly before pulling away.

“Like that?”

“Hmm, I was thinking something with a little more passion...” You shrug. “It was okay, I guess.” You tease, and he smiles, then brings you in for a longer, deeper kiss.

You spend all night with Joel, looking after Ellie and kissing until dawn. When the morning comes, you go out in search of Ellie on your own, a blanket and some pajamas in hand. Joel’s searching the other way. You find her, cold and alone, huddled up by herself. You frown.

You crouch beside her and wrap the blanket around her, frowning softly.

“Sorry I licked you.” She says softly. You recognize the tone of her voice. Her shame in who she is. You empathize with it, remembering how horrible it was to be fourteen. You smile and hand her the clothes.

“Don’t worry about it.” You turn so she can get dressed, but the blanket remains wrapped around her shoulders. You realize she doesn’t have shoes on. You frown and pull off your boots, kneeling in front of her. You gently put your socks on her feet, and then your boots. You lace them up, and make sure they’re nice and tight. “There. Nice and warm.”

You glance back up to her, and you see tears running down her face. You frown and bring a hand to cup her cheek. She doesn’t have to say anything, you know she feels ashamed and embarrassed of her newfound abilities.

“Oh, honey… You don’t have to apologize. I was bitter and angry when I became a witch, and it destroyed me. You come from a very long line of werewolves, and—”

“I’m the first one. I got bit six months ago.” You frown. That’s why this wasn’t Joel’s first time watching over her on a full moon. And you’ve heard of werewolves biting kids before they’re fourteen and starting a new line of the creature.

“Then I’ll teach you. How to live this life, how to be happy in your own skin. It won’t be easier, but embracing who you are is so much easier than ignoring it. I’ll be here every step of the way, and so will Joel. We’re not gonna leave you to deal with this on your own.” You tell her, and when you stand up finally, she hugs you tightly. You smile to yourself and hug back.

“You two okay?” Joel asks when he finally finds you two. Ellie wipes her tears and smiles at him.

“Yeah, let’s go home. I’m sick of these woods, and I want breakfast!” she declares. You laugh, rubbing her back and beginning your walk to their cabin.

This is it, you decide. This man and this girl, they’re it for you. They are your happy ending, your family. Sure, it’s not the most conventional family, what, with a werewolf, a witch, and a monster hunter. But it’s yours, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t thrilled to have them.

You have spent so many years longing for someone to see who you are and love you despite your freakish abilities. But all along, you were meant to be around freaks who are just like you. You are designed to be each other’s family, and you were always destined for the fate of your grandmother—To fall in love with a monster hunter and live a quiet life in Everbrook as you perfect your spells.

Joel looks back at you for a moment with this perplexed look on his face.

“Darlin’, where the hell are your shoes?”

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #joel miller fic #joel miller au #ellie williams #ellie williams x platonic reader #ellie williams werewolf au #joel miller monster hunter au #halloween fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #i hate this #i hate doing tags #not proofread

82 notes · View notes

violetbranwen · 10 months

Text

Dark Fic Masterlist

Joel Miller

Creep Dark!Creepy Neighbour!Joel x F!Reader Prompts: Urban Legend(s), “I’m so close, can you feel it?”, fate worse than death, mirror sex, the creepy neighbour is too hot to be insane, right? [AO3 Link]

Haunted Vampire!Joel x F!Reader x Vampire!Tommy [Teaser here] Mythology / Monster; theatre phantom (went for monster haunting the murder mansion; shotgunning / swallowing / facial; you just inherited this creepy mansion where people where murdered what could go wrong? [AO3 Link]

Miguel O'Hara

Bleed Vampire!Miguel x AI F!Reader Day 4 Haunted Hoedown Prompt artificial intelligence au + "here, you are. you tiny thing." - No Spiderman Miguel, Miguel is a Vampire. [AO3 Link]

61 notes · View notes

misspearly1 · 2 years

Text

Day Thirty: Hunter/Prey - Werewolf!Joel Miller

Kinktober22 List

WC: 3.3K

(Please read) Warnings: 18+ Content. Minors DNI. Werewolf Joel Miller. Part of The Wolf and The Moon Universe. Established Relationship. Hunter/Prey. Elements of Fear. Smut. Unprotected PIV. Monster Sex. Multiple rounds. Oral (both F and M receiving). Knotting. Supernatural Abilities (telepathy, effect generation, mind reading). Fluff.

AN: Oh, this was a last-minute decision to write for Werewolf Joel, forgive me for that. I wanted some more monster sex in this storyline lmao. Some of you already know that I use a separate taglist for werewolf Joel, so if you aren't tagged for this update that is the reason why, my loves. I hope you enjoy the read.

A taste is all you had of the werewolf before growing an insatiable lust for more. The monstrous werewolf within Joel - you wanted to meet that side of him again and feel that supernatural loving touch you’ve longed for ever since that night in the ski-lodge.

It’s no secret to you and Joel that it was an enjoyable first-time experience, but you’ve come a long way since then, come a long way with helping him control the shift during each and every full moon. The man doesn’t even need the chains anymore. He can just spend the night up at the cabin and fight the animalistic urges with the help of you keeping him occupied.

Lately however, you have talked with him about the monster he was once so afraid of letting loose. You talked about how much you enjoyed the sex and wanted to experience it again. It will be exhausting, and you’ll feel the ache for days, just like you did last time, but you want to feel that level of sexual exhaustion. And Joel does too.

This is what brings you both up to the cabin this weekend. You’ve spent the last month talking it over, planning and prepping for a night of supernatural passion. This is the first time Joel is willingly going to shift back into the monster and you want to take it easy, for his sake and for yours. The urge to fully transform never leaves him, it’s always been there, but it’s always been you that could help him. You are his moon goddess after all.

Sitting on the edge of the table with your legs between his as he sits on the edge of the sofa, you hand him a small glass of scotch and raise yours. “To take the edge off, babe. I can feel that you’re a little nervous.”

“You and those powers.” He chuckles, clinking his glass against yours before lifting it to his lips. You mirror his actions, lifting your drink and gulping back the malty flavoured substance while watching his Adam’s apple bob up and down. The man is already growing a boner because you sat before him in your bra and panties, ready to bolt out the door and tempt the monster within to give chase. That’s the plan: to run like you are his prey.

Lowering your glasses to the table, you lean forward and cup his cheek with your hand, delicately dragging your thumb across his lip and feeling the deep sighing breath that escapes him. It was laden with arousal and excitement, the sound euphonious and reassuring to your ears. Not only can you tell that he’s comfortable and looks forward to going ahead with this, but you can feel it too. The supernatural bond between moon and wolf conveys that message clearly.

“Ready to have your world rocked?” Joel winks, parting his lips slightly to take your thumb inside his mouth and sucking seductively. You bite your lip with a blushing smile, always succumbing to the effects of his sexual charms with pleasure. His eyes dart down your body with a soft growl. “I can smell how wet you are right now darlin’, and I can’t wait any longer. Ten-minute head start, whaddaya say?”

“Oh, how generous of you, Joel.” You tease. Removing your thumb from his lips and leaning in to kiss him gently, he tilted his head to the side, and you broke off to drag your soft lips along his jawline. You felt another sighing breath fan across your face, deep and heavily aroused, before you whisper directly into his ear. “I can’t wait any longer either. Five minutes instead-” You kiss his jaw quickly “-Starting now.”

Pushing him back playfully, you stand and move towards the door, smiling at the sound of his hearty laughter. “Run, run as fast as you can.” You hear Joel say as you dart across the front porch and down the steps, breaking out into a quick sprint across the field. The big bad wolf’s comin, he whispers in your mind, and you fight the urge to giggle otherwise the cramp will slow you down.

Once you reach the treeline, you keep going as fast as you humanly can while keeping your supernaturality out of this. Your abilities can help you get a huge lead on him, and if you really wanted to, you could disappear, blinding all of his senses to track you but that just takes the fun out of the hunt. You want the monster to hunt you down.

Exhilaration courses through your veins and lights up your nerve endings with passion. The clock is ticking with anticipation as you wait for the first sign of his presence. That’s if he even makes his presence known. Joel can be sneaky; you’ve seen it with your own eyes before when he hunts in regular wolf form. It’s something he does quite often as it helps tame the beast inside, as if feeding his inner animalistic urges. But tonight, he’s hunting you instead and feeding the inner animalistic urge from the pretty little sounds you make with as many rounds of pleasure you can take. You look forward to the treatment, dream of it.

Before you first brought it up with Joel, you were worried and unsure if he would even be okay with the idea of this, but you barely got the words out of your mouth before the man said yes. He didn’t need to read your mind to know what you wanted. He knows you inside and out by now, sometimes even better than yourself.

At the sound of a twig snapping, you stop running and turn to locate the source, seeing the flicker of a shadow dart behind a tree stump. Instantly, you feel your heartbeat start to pick up. Even though you aren’t afraid, and you know you’re safe, it was still a spooky sight to see, especially in the dead of night with the full moon beaming down from the dark skies above.

“Hello, Mr. Wolf.” You whisper and hear the faintest contented growl in return. He’s here, but he’s deliberately hiding himself and circling around your position, stalking you. Just out of curiosity, you stop blocking your abilities and let his presence seep into your body. It was extraordinary, feeling the predatory aura burning your skin with a thousand alarm bells ringing in your mind, century year old instincts telling you to run from your enemy. But you don’t. That’s the beauty of your bond with Joel. Wolf and Moon. Natural enemies to each other, but an unstoppable force of nature when together in alliance - especially when in love.

As much as you aren’t afraid and love the thrill that he provides, one thing you weren’t prepared for was the eerie and chilling image of his monstrous face peering around a tree. Only his face, nothing else. You saw the fire in his eyes, the white glint of his canines and the human-like features highlighted under the moon's glow. The monster. You saw the monster, and it’s been too damn long since you have. It was scary. Not terrifying, just scary.

And that little ounce of fear from you fuelled his instincts to take over. “Oh.” You gasp when he disappears behind the tree again, bushes rustling as he darts across far too quick for you to lock onto him. He’s quicker in this form, always has been. Quicker, stronger and bigger in every way. Joel’s messing around, just having some harmless fun, but the monster is teasing his target, toying with you.

A quick burst of air swooshes past your back and you turn quickly to see his mighty tall dark figure dashing behind another tree. His face ominously peeping around the corner just a little before hiding once again. He’s really having some fun and is clearly enjoying himself. “Two can play that game, wolf.” You whisper before making a run for it in the opposite direction of him, continuing the hunt. Only this time, you couldn’t stop the fearful giggles from erupting when he growled deeply and took chase.

Running with little effort to evade him, you grow more and more startled as his pounding footsteps get closer. It was an exciting type of fear hearing him right behind you and gaining ground but as much as you loved the game of chase, you pine for the pleasurable treatment he will deliver when capturing you.

You came to an abrupt halt yet again, but that didn’t stop Joel’s antics to have some fun as he swept you off the floor with ease and kept running. He skilfully threw you over his shoulder and your eyes widened at the distance of the ground below. You don’t remember him being so tall, it was so long ago when he held you above his head and tongue fucked your cunt. The memory of it flooding your mind makes you squeeze your thighs together and sigh breathily, needily.

Wondering where he was taking you as the terrain below begins to change from dirt to grass, you tilt your head with an intrigued smile as flowers come into your field of vision. All sorts of pretty flowers. It’s a whole summer blossom, bright and plentiful, rich with rays of sunlight from the daytime. And it smells heavenly too. The sound of trickling water reaches your ears, and you furrow your brows with confusion, not knowing this area as well as you thought you did.

Gradually, he slows down and kneels to the floor before gently lowering you to your feet. The breath escapes you as you look at the monster directly in its eyes. In Joel’s eyes. They’re brown, not red. His expression softens as you reach out and hold your hands on either side of his face, your thumbs lightly grazing along his canines. It’s been too long, too long since you’ve seen this side of him, but the memories of that night in the ski-lodge come back flooding back tenfold. The human ears with pointy tips, the human nose and eyes, curled greying hair fading into thick black fur all over his body. The wide expanse of his chest, muscled pecs and biceps, veins in his neck and forearms, with long fingers and sharp talons. It’s been too long indeed, and you’ve missed the monster dearly.

“Hey,” You smile. Leaning in to press your forehead against his, you plant a kiss on his cheek and watch as his eyes close with yet another deep exhaling sigh, laden with arousal and love. His big arms snake around your back, making you feel tiny as he crowds you into his chest and slowly lays on his back. The heat emitting from his body was so cosy and snug, it could lull you to sleep right here, right now, but the direction of his hands kept you awake with sexual need.

Groping careful handfuls of your flesh, he hooks his talons inside your panties and tears them straight off your skin. You giggle as he moves you up his body, placing your sex directly over his face, but before he could have the chance to slither his tongue where you want it most, you pat on his hands. “Let me turn around, I want to take care of you too.” You offer, and he doesn’t refuse.

Standing up and looking down with a smirk on your lips, you watch his eyes crinkle with his own smile, Joel shining through from the inside. You turn around and carefully position your knees onto his chest, gasping audibly at the sight of his supernatural cock staring back at you, already hard and leaking at the tip with pre-cum. You didn’t need to lean forward to take him in hand, he is so long and girthy, it was practically in your face already.

The tip, round and bulbous just like you remembered, was an angry red and the rest of his length was pink, the bulb surprisingly a little larger than last time. You clench around nothing at the thought of him knotting you, remembering the sensation of it squeezing inside was making you even more wet than what you already are. Joel could see this right before his eyes as you hovered over his face and wasted no time in helping you out.

“Oh, Joel.” You whine breathily upon feeling his tongue darting out to lick up your slit, as if gathering a taste of your desire before drinking it from the source. Wiggling your hips with request, you lean in to take the take of him inside your mouth, humming with the salty taste his spend leaking out onto your tongue. Even his pre-cum is plentiful. “Fuuuck.” You release him with a soft pop to mewl as his tongue slides inside of you. It felt like his cock, his human cock and it was so fucking good, breathaking even.

While he fucks your pussy with his tongue, you take him back insde your mouth and continue to take as much as you can before it became too much. Which, shamefully, was not a lot. You wrapped both hands around the rest of his length and stroked while sucking him off, occasionally dropping down to caress his bulb and furry balls.

The sound of him grunting beneath you was delectable, praising, and you moaned when he buried his tongue deeper, as if rewarding your efforts. Your peak was nearing quicker than you expected, you could feel the tension forming in your lower abdomen as he kept touching your g-spot with the tip of his tongue. There, you call to him telepathically and moan around his length, right there, don’t stop.

He listens to your pleas carefully, giving you exactly what you asked for and continues to prod at your g-spot, drawing out the dirtiest noises you could produce. Rocking your hips over his face, you feel and hear his tongue sliding in and out of your cunt as he grabs your thighs so hard it’s bound to leave a mark later. Another bead of salt leaks out onto your tongue, signs that he’s nearing his peak too, and you stroke him a little faster while suckling the tip of his softly.

“Joeel!” You break off momentarily to cry, your climax washing over your body and mind. Keeping your mouth open as you whine for him, your vision blurs with lust and ecstasy before creamy white ropes of his seed shoot out onto your tongue. It’s warm, so fucking warm and generous.

Moaning together as you ride out the peak of your highs, you keep stroking him as he keeps swirling his tongue inside of you before he suddenly surges forward. Your hands darting out to stabilise yourself on the earth below, he removes his tongue and pulls away from your body. You look up and find what that source of trickling water was from earlier. It’s a little waterfall, and it was glowing with wisps of blue streaks in the water. The sight is beautiful to the eyes, distracting actually as he notches the bulbous tip of his cock at your entrance.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” You yell out with each inch he buries. It burns and when you pulse around him, there’s barely any room left. He is filling you up that much. It aches, but your slick eases him inside. He stops halfway, waiting a few moments for you to adjust around him before thrusting forward, his bulb pressed firmly against your tight hole.

“Oh God,” You croak, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you rest your cheek to the grass. He’s in your stomach. His cock is so deep that it feels like he’s in your stomach. Slipping your hand down your body, you palm your lower abdomen and feel the growth inside of you, feel how much he is filling you up and probably breaching your cervix. He waits again, as if savouring your warmth tightly wrapped around him before making a move until he feels you squeezing hard.

“S-so good,” You whimper. Cheeks tuning a crimson peak as your eyes haze over with bliss, you rub nameless shapes on your swollen clit and feel another orgasm nearing quicker than the first. He holds a tight grip on your sides, nails digging into your flesh as he remains still and just watches you get yourself off on his dick, audibly enjoying it as he growls. “I-” You gasp, moving your hips back and forth a little for added pleasure. “I’m g-gonna c-cum.”

Whether it be impatience or to make you feel out of your mind, Joel pulls out halfway and slams forward, his balls slapping your fingers on your clit. His actions knocked the breath out of your lungs and all you managed to utter was a pathetic little squeak. You brought both hands up beside your head, gripping handfuls of the grass to brace yourself as you nod for him to do it again. One, two and thrice more thrusts later, you brought to the brink of your orgasm before he set a slow and deep pace.

“Joel...Nghh! Joel.” You pant heavily and close your eyes, feeling your cunt opening around him as he pushes forward and pulls your hips back, forcing his bulb inside. Sobbing whimpers escape your lips plenty until you feel it pop in and your eyes spring open with release, sending you over the edge into the pools of euphoria. The heat explodes in your cervix, his cum filling you up with so much cum that it oozes out of you, leaving a messy trail down your legs.

“Holy shit.” You breathe through your climax, reaching an intense level of pleasure mixed with pain. He’s so deep, too deep, but you want every last ounce of his spend. The sounds he made from behind you were rich with satisfaction, guttural grunts and growling groans escaping his lips with closed eyes while enjoying the intoxicating feeling of knotting you.

A few moments pass by before he carefully pulls out, watches his cum spilling out of you before sliding back inside again, his bulb slipping in as well with ease. Over and over again, he did this until you came again for him. You were steadily approaching exhaustion, feeling the ache already settling into your muscles but you wanted more, needed more. It was as if you couldn’t get enough.

“Joel,” You whimper his name, the sound of your voice resonating your needs to him. He pulls out and you reach around your back for his arm, to which he gives and helps you up off the ground before turning you around to face him. “I’m cold.” You whisper tiredly before burying your face into his neck and basking in his warmth. Using your abilities, you form a blanket and pillows out of thin air, making a bed for you and him to lay on.

Once he lays back and pulls the blanket over you, the heat is too strong to fight against. You were so tired, but wanted to feel him inside of you, to sleep with his fullness buried to the hilt in your cunt. “Oh,” You moan softly upon feeling him notch at your entrance and ease his way inside. There wasn’t a need to tell him, he heard you loud and clear. It was paradise. You were in paradise. His fur felt like an extra padded blanket, keeping you so incredibly warm that it was homey and snug.

Rising and falling over his chest gently with each breath he took, seconds is all it took for you to fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat directly against your ear and hours passed by like minutes before you felt him moving beneath you, disturbing your slumber with his slow-grinding movements. Little grunts awoke you, and the sensation of his bulb popping inside your cunt once more with another plentiful creamy white load brought you to orgasm.

And once you had come down from your high, he would fill you up again.

Werewolf!Joel taglist:@kirsteng42 @marydjarin @extraneous-trip @dins-cyare @supernaturalgirl20 @supernaturalgirl @joelsflannel @luvmeijii @hb8301 @squidwell @hb8301 @superawesomegeek @trickstersp8 @scorpio-marionette @formulafun @tanzthompson

145 notes · View notes

proxima-writes · 8 months

Text

hello, lovelies

as i continue to finish up the spooky specials, i’m curious as to what route i should take for what i refer to as monster!joel

the spooky, scary route - where joel is a demon who lives in the woods and the reader is a hiker that he’s tricked and trapped

the silly, goofy route - where joel is a werewolf that becomes infatuated with the reader and tries to woo her in his werewolf ways (think leaving dead animals as gifts, protecting her when she’s out in the woods, etc)

so! tell me

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #wip poll #monster!joel

9 notes · View notes

ohworm-writes · 10 months

Text

Just remembered that I haven't posted anything in months and I have so many drafts right now (like- ... fourteen) so... uhm... haha-

I HAVE A LOT THAT I'M WORKING ON BTS! My monster AU, a Miguel O'Hara fic (I'm not normal), an Shota Aizawa fic, my Joel Miller fic (I'm very much not normal), like- ... seven Schlatt fics, a John Price fic (I'm extremely unwell) and an absolute ton more.

You're welcome to ask me about them all btw, because idk- ... it might give me more motivation to complete them?

Though, forewarning, I did just start college, so it might take a while (worm, why would you say that- ... you don't even post) but YEAH! LOL!

#John Price x reader #Jschlatt x reader #Schlatt x reader #Shota Aizawa x reader #Shouta Aizawa x reader #Miguel O'Hara x reader #Spider-Man 2099 x reader #Spiderman 2099 x reader #Eraser Head x reader #Eraserhead x reader #Captain Price x reader #Captain John Price x reader #Joel Miller x reader #worm's monster au #OMG you should so ask me about all my OCs for all of these different universes too (I don't have one for TLOU) but I would love to talk

17 notes · View notes

gutsby · 3 months

Text

Abstaining Game

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: The only thing worse than an anti-sex retreat is an anti-sex retreat with your former fuckbuddy and dad’s best friend. Especially when sharing one cabin.

Warnings: 18+. IF HE AIN’T GRAYIN’ I AIN’T STAYIN’ 🗣️ [Age gap]. Unprotected p-in-v. Forced proximity. Joel making you fuck just his middle finger when he’s mad. Daddy kink. Overstimulation. First-time squirting. Angst.

Translations: ‘Don’t piss down my back & tell me it’s raining’ is a fun Southern phrase for, ‘Cut the bullshit’ or ‘Don’t lie.’

Sequel to Waiting Game & Hating Game (last rhyme I swear)

October 26, 2024

Dear Joel,

Roses are red,

We’re a couple of sluts,

Abstinence camp is awful,

I miss you rearranging my guts.

You were just about to put your pen back down to paper and add the finishing touch, signing an equally lascivious farewell, when the letter was snatched out of your hands. A tyrant in khaki capris and an artichoke-colored polo eyed over your words with a pointed look and frowned.

“Letters to the boyfriend have to be G-rated,” Marlene said, crumpling the thing in her fist before chucking it.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you returned shortly. Then, “That was actually meant for my dad’s friend.”

You sat tight a moment as the dots came to connect in the woman’s parochial and prudish mind—waiting for the wince of disgust to twitch at the corners of her eyes when she put two and two together. Once it did, you grinned. Even when she plucked the pen out of your hand and told you to sit outside, if you can’t participate in this one simple activity, you smiled bigger and strolled at a comfortable pace out the canteen door.

Anti-sex ‘summer camp’ wasn’t bad at all when you didn’t give a fuck what your counselors told you to do.

It was ridiculous, really. Absurd. Tommy Miller catching you sucking his brother’s dick under the table at your father’s birthday dinner, losing his shit with you both, then threatening to tell your dad everything if you didn’t agree to this stupid retreat and stop seeing each other. You’d barely been trapped in the shithole for twenty-four hours, and you already knew this angle wouldn’t work.

What many of your fellow campers affectionately called the ‘Firefly Fuck-Free Zone’ or the ‘Federal Dickriding Response Agency’ (F.E.D.R.A.) was in fact a secluded enclave south of Austin where khaki-clad monsters forced you to reckon with your sexual urges like one might treat a mutated strain of the Cordyceps fungus. You weren’t meant to keep them for long, and if you did, someone like Marlene would surely shame you for it.

Frankly, Tommy was dumb as shit if he thought this anti-boinking boot camp would have an effect on either one of you—Joel wouldn’t ever bang you again after what happened that night, but it wouldn’t be because of some arts and crafts bullshit he did out on a FEDRA ranch.

He just didn’t want your dad to find out and kill him.

That was a fair concern to have. You didn’t blame him.

Presently, you kicked your feet up on the porch outside the cafeteria, where the rest of the group was finishing up letters to their loved ones—this latest activity was meant to be ‘making amends’ to the people in your life—and you tipped your head back to survey the landscape.

Nothing but sweetgrass and gently rolling hills as far as the eye could see. Somewhere across the plains there was another cluster of cabins, though you couldn’t quite see it, and someplace within that minuscule cluster, you knew there was a middle-aged man. Dark grey eyebrows furrowed in concentration and chest heaving gently. Likely hunched over an old oak desk about five sizes too small for his frame as he gripped a pen and scribbled:

Dear Tommy,

Fuck you, you fucking fuck.

Sincerely,

Joel

You grinned again just thinking about it.

If anyone had a reason to be ticked off and terrified, it was Joel. And you, you guessed. You still hadn’t gotten your period—but that wasn’t due for another few days.

For now, you’d settled on worrying yourself over what would happen after the retreat had ended; what would you and Joel do once you went back to school? What would become of his life back in Austin with a supremely pissed off brother and a best friend who didn’t know his kid had been fooling around with a man twice her age?

Silently, you thanked your lucky stars Joel’s part of the camp was kept separate from yours, because you didn’t think you’d be able to keep a straight face if you saw him.

The whole thing was sickening, if not slightly funny.

You slipped Joel’s old pack of American Spirits out of your boot and fished in your back pocket for a lighter.

Then you crammed both back when you heard a boom:

“LAKESIDE GUIDED MEDITATION STARTS IN FIVE.”

The tinny intercom rang a deafening pitch in your ears. You clamped a palm over the left side of your head and winced, having forgotten this exercise in mindfulness was supposed to be the last event to wrap up your day. You just wanted to slink back up to your cabin and sleep. Or eat. Or slip your fingers between your aching legs and indulge in some much-needed Joel Miller reminiscing.

Then you recalled how masturbation was also off limits to all would-be sexaholic campers—if there was any time to sneak off and get busy by yourself while your counselors were otherwise occupied, now would be it.

Just as you cast a glance over your shoulder to see if a stealthy exit was even possible, a voice trilled overhead.

“On your feet, skank.”

You looked back fast, and damn did Tess look smug.

Your bunkmate crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorframe, seeming to feel your thoughts before they’d even been fully processed.

“If you skip meditation, I think Marlene’s gonna take you behind the rec and shoot you in the head,” she added.

“How kind.”

“Yeah? Certain death?”

“Better than the dick deprivation,” you grumbled, only half-kidding as you dragged yourself back to your feet.

Theresa Servopoulos was no avid fan of penis herself—she much preferred women when she had her pick of it—but she grinned all the same and clapped a comforting hand over your shoulder before the two of you started walking down the mess hall’s front steps. Then she only laughed a little bit when you almost ate shit treading down the winding rocky trail to the lake and cursed your present lack of intercourse for causing your clumsiness.

“You realize it’s only been, like…a day, right?” she said.

“Might as well be a million,” you muttered, “I feel like I’m never getting laid again.”

“Oh?”

Tess gripped your elbow when a root protruding from the path nearly sent you flying again. She tried not to smile.

“Well…my fake brother’s mad at me for going behind his back and fucking his brother,” you explained, coolly.

Stupidly.

“Wait—you fucked your brother?!”

That stopped Tess in her tracks. The two of you were approaching the cusp of a clearing, just feet away from where the forest gave way to the shoreline of the lake. Folks were already congregating at the water’s edge.

“Any day now, ladies,” Marlene called through cupped hands. Tess was still regarding you with eyes the size of saucers as you traipsed across the way to that voice.

“Not my brother,” you hissed.

“You said your brother’s brother. That makes this guy your brother, too,” Tess whispered—still far too loud.

“Not my actual brother, he’s just— fuck—”

Suddenly, two scraps of red fabric were catapulted in your direction. Tess caught one. You caught the other.

“Tie ‘em over your eyes.” Marlene ordered.

“The fuck?” you mumbled, but ventured nothing more as you were ushered to join the group sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of you. Everyone else was tying bandanas around their eyes like all of this was normal.

“Another trust exercise,” Tess’s voice was low as you dropped your asses one after the other on the sand. Speaking like a seasoned veteran of the anti-sex retreat, she helped you get yours on and shot you one last ‘You-better-not-have-actually-fucked-your-sibling’ look before letting you help her secure her blindfold, too.

Just as Marlene began describing in great detail what this blind, guided meditation in self-love and elemental trust was meant to look like, your friend opted to give voice to her concerns the second the opportunity arose.

Still seated side-by-side, still blind, Tess leaned over.

“Please tell me you’re not here for bangin’ your brother.”

You had to stifle a laugh.

“I am not.”

“Then explain, Cersei!”

Just then, a throat cleared behind you. Evidently another camp counselor at your rear was telling you, wordlessly, to shut the fuck up and listen to the instructions. You and Tess just scooted closer and lowered your voices.

“So this guy, Tommy…he’s been like a big brother to me for years. Worked with my dad and always had my back for the wild shit I did back in high school,” you began.

“Uh-huh.”

“His big brother, Joel, is like…old as shit, but wildly hot.”

“Dangerous combo.”

“And Joel’s my dad’s best friend. Drove me back from college over fall break when he was visiting Boston, we took a little motel detour on the road trip home, and bam—” You snapped your fingers for effect, “We fuck, right?”

“Right.”

“—imagine you’re standing at the edge of a waterfall—”

Marlene couldn’t be serious with this hippy dippy shit. You tuned out the rest of what she said and continued:

“It’s incredible. But the condom busts open at the end—”

“Oh shit.”

“—deep breath in…and release…and again, we—”

“Freak the fuck out, right? I’m poppin’ Plan B like candy.”

“As you should.”

“—hold that breath in right there—”

“A week later, me and Joel hook up at my dad’s birthday party. Only we fuck up, ‘cause Tommy catches us, and—”

This time, the counselor who’d cleared their throat to shut you up took to nudging you both in the back with the toe of their shoe. You straightened up, tilted your head back, and scowled at them through your blindfold.

“Do you mind?” you said, turning in place but unable to see anything behind you. You imagined whoever had just butted in on your conversation was probably frowning. They said nothing in return, just huffed like a child.

“Anyway.” You pivoted back to Tess, “Tommy flips his lid, tells us he’s gonna snitch on us to my dad if we keep fucking around like that, and then he…sends us here.”

You heard your friend fight back a chuckle beside you.

“And abstinence camp is supposed to cure you of this awful disease? Wanting to fuck daddy’s best friend?”

Oddly, you wanted to giggle too. You weren’t sure what was so funny, or why Tess’s tone made you want to say something equally out of pocket and lewd, but then you were leaning over before you could even think twice:

“That old man’s dick is like a fuckin’ drug, dude.”

You wished you could’ve seen her face when you said it. But you didn’t need to catch a single glimpse to know she was grinning big and dumb when she whispered,

“Prehistoric cock must’ve been pretty nice, huh?”

You choked. She snorted. You returned, next, shortly,

“Best senior citizen schlong I’ve had in my life.”

You weren’t sure which one of you burst out laughing first. Maybe Tess. Probably you. Either way, both of your sides were splitting in seconds, as the ridiculous and just marginally offensive descriptors for Joel’s dick trembled at the tips of your tongues. You felt like a teenager again, telling your friend your filthiest desires for the DILF-next-door—except this time, you’d actually fucked him. Small perks to seeking out middle-aged men in your twenties. You had to clamp your hand over your mouth to rein in the peals of laughter as Tess wheezed quietly beside you.

Then you felt hands.

Two palms under your armpits, yanking you up.

You stumbled back, graceless and still staving off half a laugh as your back struck the counselor’s chest.

“Just…take her back up.” You heard a female’s voice to your left, low and not sounding particularly amused.

Take you where? Was this the part where Marlene dragged you behind the rec and shot you in the head?

About damn time.

Whoever had grabbed you grunted in acknowledgment. You swayed in their arms, trying to regain better footing, but the grip tightened up in a second and thrust you sideways. You staggered, cursing your captor.

“Fucker,” you hissed.

Fucker said nothing.

Their hands slipped from your pits to one of your wrists, leading you away from the lake in long strides. You were moving so fast you scarcely had the chance to pull the blindfold back, so you just kept walking. Marching.

“Can you slow the fuck down, please?”

You imagined the face of the person leading you forward might’ve twisted in a scowl. Their lips didn’t stir, though.

In a matter of minutes, your feet were crunching on the flat, gravelly terrain you knew to lay under the cabins. This person was leading you back. Likely to throw you off to your room in the next several moments—but not before ripping you a new one for disrupting the peace back down at the lake. You weren’t stoked to hear it.

“Alright, just—” You tripped as you were led up the rickety steps, cursing again, “—just leave me right here.”

A set of knuckles at your spine thrust you forward.

“No? Okay. Fine. Whatever.”

You shook your head as you entered the cabin and heard footsteps follow you in. It occurred to you then that now was probably a good time to take off the blindfold.

Before you could, though, it was ripped off for you.

“Pack your shit.”

Dude.

You spun on your heels.

“DUDE!”

Your eyes moved up the very khaki shorts you despised, the puke-colored polo, the neatly embroidered camp logo, and a nametag strangely labeled ‘Lucien Flores.’ Everything in the ensemble screamed ‘camp counselor.’ But the face above it—it wasn’t one of their own at all.

It was far too lax. Fresh with an easy, shit-eating grin.

“Sweetheart—”

He started to speak, only to get the wind knocked out of his chest when you threw your arms around him.

The barrage of kisses came without you ever really intending to place them at all. You were just so stunned, practically overcome with joy to see Joel Miller in all his ruggedly handsome glory, then confused. What was he doing here, and why was he dressed head-to-toe as a counselor? And why were you so into that on him?

You doubted you could even ask the questions, and he was barely more able to answer the longer you stayed latched to his neck, kissing him everywhere your mouth could get to. You’d just stood on tip-toes to press your lips to his when you realized he wasn’t reaching back.

His hands hung limply at his sides. Still, he smiled.

“Abstinence camp ain’t taught ya much, has it?”

You parted your lips to drag your teeth along the grey-spattered scruff on his cheek—biting but not quite. Begging him to kiss you back, grab your ass, anything to quell this anguish twisting low in your stomach at the lack of contact. Joel didn’t seem keen on answering to it.

“I’ve learned plenty, Miller,” you panted against his jaw, before moving below it to sink into the skin of his neck, “Lemme show you all the stuff FEDRA told us not to do.”

Yes, you sounded desperate. No, you didn’t really care. You were much too busy fiddling with the front of Joel’s shorts to concern yourself with anything but his cock. It made it all the more gut-wrenchingly horrific and disconcerting when you felt his hands push yours away.

“No,” Joel said, simply. Then, nodding to your luggage at the foot of your bunk, “Pack your stuff, sweets. C’mon.”

He was seriously trying to break you out?

You admired the cojones on the man, but you wanted to fuck real quick to get it out of your system. Needed it.

“Joel, I—” You swallowed thickly, shaking your head.

What your mouth couldn’t finish, your eyes said clear as day: I want you to take me right here. Quick and dirty. But, again, Joel seemed completely impervious to your pleas. Almost callous in the face of such a desperate request made from your eyes to his. He moved over toward your suitcase when you didn’t want to budge.

Luckily for you, you’d never unpacked. All that was left were the clothes on your back and a water bottle on the nightstand. Joel grabbed the latter and turned around to snag the suitcase on his way to the door, when he was met with you. Obstructing his path and frowning a little.

“Joel?” You raised a brow.

“Mm?”

The man in front of you straightened up, rolling a nonexistent kink from his neck before regarding you.

His gaze was alarmingly sedate.

“Y’know, you’ve got quite the knack for makin’ shit difficult—”

“Just a quickie, Miller—”

“I ain’t fuckin’ you here!”

The sudden boom of his voice should’ve startled you. But then a broad, warm palm came to rest on your shoulder, and Joel’s expression dropped immediately. There was still a tightness to it, somewhere deep within, and you couldn’t quite work out why he seemed so…off.

Then you caught sight of something steely in his gaze.

It just might’ve clicked if Joel didn’t reach for your face and elucidate things for you himself, eyes narrowing.

“I know my old man dick is like a fuckin’ drug and all…”

Shit.

Cheeks squished between his two big hands, you had only to stare. And blink. And silently regret being so loud when you were talking to Tess before. It didn’t look good.

“Joel—”

“No, no, my senile brain must be mistaken—it was actually that prehistoric cock that did it for ya.”

Your face heated with shame. You blinked again.

But just as you tried to shake your head between Joel’s hands, he pressed his palms tighter and drew you closer.

“Senior. citizen. schlong?” he intoned, painfully slow.

“Joel, I just—”

“Need to fuck someone your own age, it sounds like.”

The man in front of you released your face just as fast as he’d grabbed it, and when he stepped back, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of desperation. That wasn’t what you’d meant! It sounded so puerile and cruel coming out of his lips like this, but you had to tell him it was a joke.

“It was a joke.”

No time to mince words now.

“Real fuckin’ comedic genius,” Joel snorted.

He rolled his eyes and tried to sidestep you, but you mirrored the movement. When your hands flew to his chest to keep him from moving, please, just listen to me, Joel, he pretended not to hear it, or feel it, against him.

“Alright. Enough,” he muttered, “‘S’time to go home.”

“No!”

“No?”

“No.”

For the first time, you saw Joel’s nostrils flare. You pressed into his sternum again, hoping to hold him in place so you could explain yourself, but it seemed he wasn’t planning on staying stationary. Joel dropped to your bunk—or Tess’s, technically—and situated himself comfortably on the bed before shooting you a look. You barely had had a moment’s time to contemplate your next move when he yanked you onto the cot with him.

Joel didn’t try to kiss you. He didn’t attempt to remove one article of clothing from your body or his. He just sat there, staring, while you straddled his hips staring back.

“If you wanna fuck me so bad, go right ahead,” he said, motioning indistinctly in front of him, “Be my guest.”

When you stilled, he added, “That is all y’want, right?”

With your palms laying flat on his chest and a head full of conflicting thoughts—you did want to bang him, obviously, but not before you’d gotten a chance to set things straight, not when he was looking at you like this—you chewed your bottom lip. Certainly you couldn’t continue while Joel still believed you were embarrassed by his age, his lips downturned and humorless as ever.

“C’mon,” he tried again, a touch more venom laced in his words as he spoke, “Show me how much ya want it.”

You needed time to think.

“Why are you…dressed like this?” you said, stalling.

But Joel wouldn’t be kind enough to give you that time.

“Stole the uniform so I could sneak out and over here and get you out. Are we gonna fuck now or what?”

His hands moved over your own to guide them to his lower half, just above where your clothed core was touching his. Your fingers moved mechanically, almost reluctantly, to undo the button and zip of his shorts.

Was that a flash of hurt you saw in his eyes?

You’d never been good at this communication bullshit. Neither had Joel. The two of you would probably just have sex now to hash out your feelings, as was par for the course for a pair of emotionally stunted individuals. It still pained you to see him look at you like that, though.

“Tess and me were just kidding, baby.”

You palmed the bulge in his boxers and heard him grunt. When you nudged his cock out of the fabric to stroke him, his eyes fluttered shut and he sucked in a breath.

“I would never say those things to hurt you,” you added.

“Didn’t hurt me none,” Joel returned instantly. Then, feeling you flick the pad of your thumb over the head of his cock, he exhaled and held his face firm in place. Like he didn’t want you to see the effect you had on him.

You let go of his cock to take off your socks and shoes. Then your top. Then your shorts. Then you slid down his body a little, unsure if this was the time to be trying something new. Or even doing this kind of stuff at all.

At first, you just sort of lowered yourself to Joel’s groin, his dick resting comfortably between your tits. Then you started to move, and your hands were cupping either side of your breasts to push inward on his member. Before you even fully knew what you were doing, you were squeezing Joel’s dick with the soft, supple flesh and stroking him gently. Gaze glued to him all the while.

His eyes cracked open to catch you watching him. Evidently, Joel couldn’t contain all of his reactions, because he audibly groaned when you got going.

Sliding your tits up and down his shaft, feeling him pulse between them. Sensing a warmth pool in your own lower half but being too focused, and slightly ashamed, to act. You just wanted to make Joel feel good, even if your words weren’t able to do the trick with apologizing.

“Come here,” you beckoned him with just one finger as you slid off the bed, to the floor. Joel sat up, and you kneeled obediently between his legs. The two of you shared a tense, sexless look for a second before you lowered yourself back down and resumed the position.

This time, Joel could—and did—stir his hips to create some friction between your tits. His brow pinched inward with a muted concentration, and you wanted to say it looked handsome on him, that you were sorry for saying those stupid things to Tess and making him doubt your affection for him, but you kept your mouth shut. You had to remind yourself that emotions had no place between two needy, unfeeling people who just wanted to fuck.

Maybe that was how it should’ve been from the start.

But watching Joel��s face twist and contort in pleasure nearly wiped the thought clean out of your brain forever.

You felt many things for him, whether you liked it or not.

You really wished you hadn’t said the things you’d said.

Joel braced his hands at the edge of the bed on either side of him, hips working a steady pace to fuck your tits. He was staring mostly at the spot where the head of his cock was poking up through your cleavage with each thrust, entranced by the sight, and in a second, a full-throated moan was fighting its way out of his chest. He spit in his hand and paused to smear the stuff on his shaft, on your tits. Spit again and rubbed even harder.

Seeing him so cold and detached, you wanted to apologize again. Maybe beg him to say something kind.

Instead, you mumbled, “I love it when you fuck my tits.”

Joel scarcely acknowledged the remark, just letting you work yourself over him, meet his shallow thrusts, look sweet and wait patiently for him to cum all over you. When it seemed he might be ready to do it, though, Joel withdrew from you the next second and moved back on the bed. He pulled you into his lap, straddling again, but this time situated over the side of the bed—him sitting up, you perched on the flat, sturdy expanse of his thighs facing him. In the space between your bodies, Joel slid a quiet and almost careless hand to your heat, flicking the sheer fabric of your panties to the side in one go.

The moment his fingers made contact, you flinched.

It wasn’t that you were opposed to his touch, you just felt unfairly balanced in this situation. Joel appeared so stoic; you, a complete and utter wreck. Fighting fifteen different emotions at once and feeling unusually vulnerable spread open to him now, you almost didn’t register what he was doing—or what his hand might find.

Joel’s groan brought you back, though. When he rubbed his knuckles over the seam of your cunt and practically choked out twice his lung’s capacity, you had to look.

Aloof as he tried to be, the man’s desire was painted all over his expression. And his crotch. And his hand.

Well, actually, that last bit of arousal was yours.

“Fuckin’ soakin’ me, sweetie,” Joel breathed.

You perked up at the term of endearment. Watching one glistening fist of his make its way back and forth against your body, smearing sticky wet pleasure all over your mound and your folds, you found yourself gnawing your lip once more, this time for entirely different reasons.

Joel seemed to soften—even if only for a glaring carnal need, you didn’t care. You sank into this gentler touch.

“Khakis kinda suit you, Miller,” you said, off-handed.

Really, Joel looked almost as comical as he was sexy in that camp counselor getup: tan shorts stretched tight over even tanner legs, polyester top sitting pretty on wide, hulking shoulders, that silly stitched logo for the camp emblazoned over his left pec, and, of course, the nametag that didn’t belong to him but to Lucien. The whole thing was so alien to his lumberjack-chic demeanor that he nearly seemed boyish. Endearing. Some spearmint-scented hottie you might’ve had a crush on at camp years ago. You couldn’t help but smile.

Joel tried not to hold your gaze for too long.

“Don’t go pissin’ down my back and tell me it’s rainin’.”

When he slid one finger to your entrance, you tensed again, but smiled just the same and let out a breath. You felt him prod at the warm, wet skin and thumb at your clit, and something told you that he’d wanted to grin too.

“I’m serious,” you said, “Scout’s hon—ohfuckfuckfuck.”

Joel pushed one finger inside you. In spite of the ease with which he slipped between your walls, that gentle sensation made it wonderfully snug. He gripped your hip and started moving his single digit in and out, and in spite of yourself, you squirmed a bit. Joel never failed to call you out for doing that; today would be no different.

“Easy, sweet pea,” he hummed when you jumped again.

But you couldn’t help it. Your hands quickly anchored themselves to Joel’s shoulders, your legs spread wider, and your hips started stirring—bucking, really—against each teasing touch. It was still just one thick finger of his.

You glanced down and saw that it was his middle finger, in particular. The double meaning wasn’t lost on you.

“Another,” you pleaded.

“Nuh-uh.”

“You’re a mean ol— mean man.” You tried to correct course when you felt a mention of ‘old’ slip back into your vernacular, and inwardly, you cringed at your words.

Joel had already heard it. He cocked one eyebrow.

“Mean ol’ man?” he scoffed, still fingerfucking you softly. When you bucked against it, he nodded as if to say ‘fair enough.’

Then, before you could chime in, he nodded some more.

His expression was hard.

“Fuck my hand,” he said.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

You weren’t quite sure what he meant for you to do. When he nodded a third time, the gesture was accompanied by a quick dart of his eyes to the place where your cunt was being penetrated by his one finger. He curled the finger inward, and when you twitched at the hot throb of pleasure that followed, he grunted.

Fuck my hand.

Nails still searing tiny half-moons into his shoulders, you acted more out of impulse than by command. The look from Joel sure didn’t hurt, though. The second you started rolling your hips, he nodded again. Holding onto his praises for now and simply showing approbation.

“Like that,” he murmured.

All you were doing was rocking back and forth over his finger, whimpers percolating quietly in your chest, but the act alone made you feel desperate. And Joel smug.

It was like he wanted to see you getting off to this one, comparatively smaller part of him without being filled. Bucking plaintively to find that fullness and coming back empty every time. Your whimpers turned into whines.

“Need more,” you keened.

“Yeah?” Joel replied gently.

“Yeah.”

A beat, then:

“Tough shit.”

But he said it so goddamn sweet you had to do a double take to make sure you’d heard him correctly. When you met Joel’s eyes, you saw a hint of amusement lingering behind them. Then he squeezed your hip again and started helping you move into his hand, up and down.

“Only givin’ more fingers to good girls, y’hear?” he said.

“What about your cock?” You couldn’t help it.

Joel just breathed out through his nose. In a second, he went from camp counselor to disapproving father figure.

“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?”

That was all he needed to say, but the firm plunge of his middle finger certainly put a finer point on it. He curled the digit again and, upon grazing that spongy surface inside you, saw another desperate plea in your eyes.

And pleasure.

The pleasure ran almost as intense as the desperation.

Your head fell back when Joel got to making those ‘come hither’ motions again and again, thumb circling your clit, eyes trained on your figure with a marked concern. Like the prospect of not drawing an orgasm out of you in the next two minutes might very well ruin the man’s night.

“‘S’alright, honey,” Joel said quietly.

Then, finding your gaze when your head tilted back,

“Be a good girl and let go for me. Let go for daddy, hm?”

Fortunately for him, that one low hum and another flick of his middle finger and thumb were all you needed to find your release. You came on his hand with a sharp, pitiful cry and a ‘Fuckthatfeelssogooddaddyplease,’ hips working feverishly against his hand as you rode out your high. The sight of you bouncing up and down on his open palm and the way your eyes rolled back, begging him to fuck you full of his cock next, felt wildly obscene.

Joel loved obscene. Needed obscene. Hot. Febrile. Raw.

He nodded again.

Before you’d even descended fully from those staggering heights, his finger was moving too—joined by two more. Joel stuffed his index and ring fingers inside your still-pulsing hole and pretended not to hear your soft cry.

After all, you’d asked for more before. Joel was just sating your desire; your overwrought body would be fine.

“Joel,” you hissed, seizing his wrist.

“Too much?” he returned.

You tried to verbalize some answer but were cut short by a punishing stretch—all three fingers plunging in and out of your sensitive, drooling cunt and making it full of him.

“Too soon?” he tried again.

“I—”

“Too fast?”

“N—”

“Too…old?” Joel pressed after a beat.

There was an air of feigned condescension in his tone as he took on a faster pace gliding his thick, calloused fingers between your walls. You might’ve screamed if you hadn’t found your forehead pressed to his and the warmth of his irises boring into yours while he did it all. At this distance, you could discern a trace of hurt again. Something needing to be soothed inside Joel Miller.

You rutted your hips and shook your head, skull still stuck to his as you did so. Whimpers coming low.

“I didn’t…mean it,” you managed at length.

“What? That I’m ‘old as shit but wildly hot’?”

Joel wedged his fingers straight down to the knuckle and nearly tore a shriek out of your body. His eyes were surprisingly soft. Making sure your pleasure was all there.

“Hyperbole,” you choked, voice hoarse.

Then your jaw grew lax when a hand cupped your chin. All you wanted to do was melt into Joel, but you sensed something brewing again behind those honeyed eyes. Blinking was all you could do to keep your composure.

“You’re right, darlin’,” Joel said, “I am too old for you.”

Right after a clench in your tummy, a hurried word leapt up to your tongue, ‘NO!’ and you had to swallow a moan to keep from succumbing to the pleasure Joel was bringing with his fingers. Sandwiched between two orgasms was no time for a serious argument to take place, but there you were, fighting against it anyway.

“N-No,” you stammered. Stupid.

“I am.” His voice came softer somehow, more resigned.

When outright rejection of the claim seemed futile, you tried to pivot. Climax still closing in as fast as ever.

“I don’t care about that,” you hissed, exhaling hard when the first ripples of bliss crept up toward your stomach.

Joel watched you with careful eyes.

“Yeah? And Tess?”

“Joel—”

“Or Tommy.”

“I don’t—”

“Everyone else?”

Almost against your will, those minuscule ripples turned to waves of full-blown euphoria, and then you were clenching again on Joel’s hand and crying out in climax. You willed your gaze not to stray from his, but it was tough. Especially when the eyes beneath your own seemed so fucking morose and removed from you.

Don’t do this to me, Miller. Don’t do it, don’t do it.

In the wake of what should’ve been consummate satisfaction, you found yourself retreating to a place more akin to starvation—suddenly eager to get your mouth over his and start kissing, tonguing, and scraping your teeth like you’d missed out on a full week’s worth of meals. Feeling selfish but also uncertain how else to proceed—was Joel Miller breaking up with you here?

You couldn’t be sure, because he kissed you back. Joel kissed you and cupped your cheeks, then chased your frame all the way down to the coarse, scratchy sheets of the bed, where he was quick to climb on top of you.

Hell, it seemed breathing was too tough to accomplish with your frenzied pace and the continuous stream of open-mouthed kisses placed anywhere and everywhere. A groan from Joel trembled between your lips as you helped him get his shorts and boxers the rest of the way down his legs—all but dragging them with your heels—and he tightened a fist in your hair when they were off.

“I shouldn’t’a come here,” he mumbled.

“But you did,” you panted.

Both of you got lost in another onslaught of kisses, and you tried not to sigh. Joel was still battling something.

Even as he peeled your panties off and lined himself up with your entrance, he seemed resolved to stay quiet. Holding your gaze and not saying what had to be said.

He was a lot like you in that way.

You kept kissing him anyway.

The events that followed seemed to you little more than fleeting, happy scenes from a film you’d always wanted to see—an eager Joel, a caring Joel, an I-don’t-think-I’m-physically-capable-of-holding-you-any-closer Joel. The weight of his cock a welcome friend and the kisses somehow far too intimate to be considered friendly at all. You’d almost forgotten you were at a camp designed to prevent this very thing from happening between two stupid, impulsive people like you, and you didn’t care.

All you knew was a yawning stretch—that aching, empty void filled to perfection by Joel’s member—and the shockwaves of pleasure that vibrated in bands all the way down to the balls of your feet. You felt safe and secure caged between two muscular arms, and you reveled in a warmth that spanned every inch of your body touching his. The weight suffocating and somehow not oppressive; Joel cradled your head to make sure of it.

“Ain’t…hurtin’ ya, am I?” he said when you winced.

You shook your head against his sweaty palms to say that he wasn’t; you were just adjusting. He scanned your face for any trace of insincerity but found nothing.

In this tender position, your brain was ready to burst—whether from guilt, shame, ruthless self-loathing, or a sobering sense of closeness, you weren’t sure. All four seemed to form the impetus for the words that came next, which were soft, repeated apologies against Joel’s mouth. He swallowed each one without a second thought.

“Quit sayin’ it,” he rasped, low.

“I’m sorry, Joel, I’m sorr—”

Soft lips again. ‘S’okay, honey.’

You weren’t sure why, but your face felt extra hot.

Joel pressed his thumbs on either side of it while he kissed you and went deeper. Then he squeezed even more, and your breath hitched quietly in your throat.

Aw, shit, he could probably feel your heart running amok in your chest and thrumming like crazy right now.

“Ain’t nothin’—” Joel paused to send one measured thrust along your cervix, “—to be sorry for. Nothin’.”

Your legs tightened at his sides when his hips started to snap in quick, stuttered motions, desperate for more friction and depth. He got both, and he groaned feeling you tighten around him as he filled your cunt to the brim. The silky warmth of your walls drawing him in was almost too much, and every now and then he’d have to slow to mutter some, ‘’S’fuckin’ chokin’ me, honey, ya feel that?’ or ‘This pussy’s just made to take me, huh?’

Joel asked like he actually needed the reassurance. As if the slick, dripping arousal coating his length and the sounds of your whimpers mixed in with those wet slaps weren’t enough—as if he had to have deeper consolation.

He was splitting you open and looked guilty as he did it.

Still shaking with each thrust, you helped him slide his shirt over his head and bring him bare, chest-to-chest with you. You couldn’t ignore the tension any longer.

“Joel, I fuckin’ love— I need you inside,” you managed.

“You do?”

“Uh-huh.”

His face softened.

“‘S’mine, isn’t it?”

He said it so fast you couldn’t make out if it were really a question or a simple statement of fact. His balls routinely smacking your ass, eyes searching yours, always gentle.

“Say that you’re mine.”

No, Joel—don’t do that, don’t say it like that.

Your visceral reaction was to recoil. You couldn’t because he had you pinned, but damn did you want to—not him, not this, not now, Joel, why would you fucking say that?

The look in his eyes now surpassed the hurt from before. It was open and aching, even as he drilled your body in two at a near-ruthless pace. Asking you so sincerely.

The obstinacy inside you was almost laughable. Damn near sent your head spinning in a fit of hysterics at how much you wanted to say but wouldn’t; how much you sensed lay waiting to fly off Joel’s tongue but couldn’t. If you were any more emotionally pent-up you might’ve ruptured a blood vessel and lost all ability to think.

It didn’t help that you were both about to cum.

Or that Joel’s right hand was fumbling for your clit.

His expression was steady as ever when you jumped, made a whining noise below him, and grabbed his wrist. You looked down to where your bodies were joined and got a dizzying glimpse of that sight: cunt swallowing Joel’s cock repeatedly, pleasure pooling between your two bodies, then a digit at that little bundle of nerves.

He kissed your hairline and hummed.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Whose pussy is this?”

His thrusts sped up, along with his thumb.

“Don’t.” Not an answer but a warning: tread lightly, Joel.

He kissed your forehead again. And again. For a second you thought he might stay that way until you both came, but then his lips were finding yours, mumbling softly,

“Say no one’s gonna fuck you but me.”

“But—”

“None of those pencil-dick douchebag Delta Sigma whatever-the-fuck ya call ‘ems—” Joel continued, unfazed, “—not your lab partner, not your hallmate—”

His cock was gliding in and out of you at a punishing pace now. Wonderfully slick with sounds obscenely piercing to your ears. You could feel Joel digging in the depths of your tight, throbbing cunt, could see his expression contort with much the same pleasure you were experiencing yourself, and could very well smell the faint aroma of American Spirits still staining his breath. Joel Miller was a sick fuck for what he was doing to you, and he knew it. You nipped at his lower lip in between tender kisses and quietly-spoken words, and whimpered.

“—not your TAs, not your professors—” he pressed on.

You opened your mouth to let a lewd moan escape when Joel lifted his hand to shove a thumb inside. Instinctively, you sucked the whole thing straight down to the knuckle.

“Nobody but me, y’hear that?” Afforded better leverage with his finger wedged between your teeth, he shook your head a little as he fucked you. Watched you bob and nod a wordless ‘yes’ in doe-eyed complaisance while his cock drove shockwaves of pleasure straight through you.

He rubbed his thumb back and forth, and you let him.

You drooled all over that man’s finger like it might’ve been supplying oxygen to your lungs, and when Joel leaned in and said, ‘Ya like that, sweet pea?’, you answered in the affirmative. Or at least as close as you could get while Joel was filling up his two favorite holes.

Your orgasm was maybe two strokes away from shattering bones, it seemed. Now was his chance.

Swiftly, Joel retracted his touch just far enough to drag a string of saliva out of your mouth—then deliver a taut but gentle slap to your cheek. The soft thwack, combined with the sounds your bodies were making down below, served only to elevate the pornographic pitch of your moan:

“Joel!”

“That’s right.”

Joel’s mouth hovered an inch over yours, half-smirking, as if waiting to suck the words clean off of your lips. You whined when his thrusts got quicker and the mouth that was grinning got to kissing your own again. Talking dirty, too.

“Show me who this cunt belongs to. Say it,” he grunted.

You clenched, kissed him back, were just barely aware of the words you were trying to form when you stuttered some unintelligible, ‘Y-Y—ohfuckdaddyjustlikethatoh—’

Oh.

Your eyes widened to Joel’s, and before you could even begin to process what was happening to your body, his name just snapped off your tongue like a shot. A shriek. Some blissfully half-strangled moan that Joel captured between his teeth as he fucked you into the mattress and held your body tight to his own. His palm was wet.

Your legs were wet.

The soft, heaving juncture between your bodies was wet.

You were only dimly aware of the sensation as you dug your heels in Joel’s back and let out a series of cries and moans, but then that fluttering feeling inside made you flinch. A pulsing between your thighs and a…warmth.

You were still blinking through a post-euphoric haze when you felt a soft heat simmer and sink within you.

Did Joel just…cum inside you? Again?

“You dumb motherfucker,” you hissed without hesitation.

You’d just managed to shove him away—not far, but away—when you scrambled into a sitting position and slapped a hand over your stomach. Expecting to feel a churning and an awful pinch as you came to make out some vague sensation of Joel’s seed painting your insides, you were surprised when you didn’t get it at all.

In point of fact, Joel had just sprayed a full Jackson Pollock onto your stomach and was blinking, still fisting his cock as you quickly made your way back to your feet.

Where was that wetness coming from?

You stood and stared down at your stomach. Your legs. The translucent, trickling something that had paved a clear path between your thighs and all over Joel’s front. It didn’t make sense, unless—

“You fuckin’ squirted!” Joel cheered.

Your first instinct was to make a face.

That shit only happened in poorly produced pornos and movies based on books by Colleen Hoover, not real-life human beings. What the hell was this man on about?

“Be fucking serious,” you scowled, reaching for a stray shirt on the floor. Before realizing it was even yours, you hastily swiped several big globs of Joel’s cum with it. Your face grew even more enflamed, and yourself, oddly…ashamed. You couldn’t quite make sense of why Joel was grinning so big, or why you felt so embarrassed by what appeared to be a natural bodily function, but you suspected it probably had something to do with the state of sex education in Texas. Those fuckers definitely skipped squirting in favor of abstinence-only rhetoric.

Still weird. Still gross. You wished Joel would stop smiling.

“Lose the look or I’ll slap that fuckin’ grey off your head.”

Admittedly, neither aftercare nor communication was your métier. You started throwing on clothes, annoyed.

Meanwhile, Joel was swiping moisture off his abdomen three thick fingers at a time and wiggling the residue up for you to see—‘All it is is a sign of good lovin’, sweets, ain’t nothin’a be ashamed of!’—and you gave him just one finger in return. You were sliding your shorts up your legs and attempting to scrap the jizz off your FEDRA top when Joel started shrugging on his stolen clothes, too.

Your back was turned to him, eyes scanning the almost too-calm outdoors through the window a minute later, when you felt an arm snake close around your waist.

“Tastes a little like honey,” Joel crooned in your ear, doubtlessly smirking as he swayed you, “Only sweeter.”

You rolled your eyes. No cunt tasted like a honeycomb.

And you tried to say as much when he stroked over the strip of exposed skin between your shorts and the hem of your shirt, squeezing you tighter, but Joel was too good. He spidered a teasing touch over your tummy and yanked you back into his chest when you squealed and tried to break free. Then your sides, your ribcage, your shoulder blades—anyplace Joel could tickle, he tried to—and most spots, you were squeamish as hell. You clamped a hand over your half-open, giggling mouth, and when you felt him flip you around, you didn’t protest.

Suddenly, Joel’s hands were on either side of your face. He wasn’t smiling quite so big anymore but nevertheless maintained a kind glint behind his eyes. They were soft.

“‘M’sorry,” he said.

Then, pausing as if to consider his words, he said,

“You did great.”

He stopped again to press a kiss on the tip of your nose.

“So good.”

When he saw another smile twitch at the corners of your lips, as though asking him for more, he kissed those too.

“If that was your first time with…that…I’m, uh…”

“What?”

Another beat. Another stupid, stubbled grin.

“The luckiest…senior citizen sonovabitch, I guess.”

At the tail end of that, and once Joel had punctuated his sentence with another tender peck, you met his gaze again. Somehow, it had only gotten softer. His thumbs were searing the gentlest of imprints in the apples of your cheeks, his breaths were even and warm, and if you hadn’t known any better, you might’ve thought the man was contemplating saying something else to you then.

He didn’t.

The bridge to an old Billy Joel song made sure of that.

“And when she’s walkin’, she’s lookin’ so f-i-i-i-ine.”

You heard gravel crunch outside the cabin.

“And when she’s talkin’, she’ll say that she’s m-i-i-i-ine.”

Footsteps bounding up the half-rotted, cedar steps.

“She’ll say I’m not so tough just because I’m in love wi—SHIT.”

Tess’s face went blank the second the door swung open.

Thankfully, both of you were clothed. You and Joel leapt apart like she’d just caught you in doggy, though. And Tess looked like she might’ve seen an asscheek or two with the way she was staring at you both, letting the screen door slam shut, and a wordless ‘what-the-fuck’ caught somewhere in the tepid air between you three.

You stared at Tess, and Tess stared at you. Joel peered over her shoulder for the arrival of any more onlookers or folks just wanting to sing ‘Uptown Girl’ in your general vicinity. Fortunately, no one else appeared behind her.

But Tess looked awestruck enough for fifty people. She blinked and visibly swallowed as her gaze shifted to Joel.

“So FEDRA does dick appointments now?” she hissed.

“No!”

“I’m not—”

“He’s from the other camp.”

“You’re shitting me. Absolutely shitting me right now.”

You brought both hands to your face in a stifling, quiet desperation, unsure what to do. Joel just blinked back.

“I’m—we’re—” he started.

“Fucking!” Tess bit back, “You are so fucking. Raw.”

She wasn’t wrong. Her sixth sense for knowing who was having clandestine sex in her bed was kind of insane.

But, where you expected a look of horror to crawl into those taut, too-smart-for-her-own-good features, you found your bunkmate starting to raise her eyebrows.

Then laugh.

Tess threw her head back and laughed because she thought you were boinking a FEDRA camp counselor.

Joel shared a similar look of surprise but didn’t laugh.

“Yeah, I’m uh…J—” Again, he made as if to speak, to introduce himself, but Tess cut him off. About to wheeze.

“Lucien Flores, you dirty dog!” she cackled.

Joel glanced down at his nametag, started to shake his head, and probably didn’t anticipate Tess smacking him on the shoulder in a semi-congratulatory sort of way. Given a little more muscle to the playful punch, she just might’ve knocked him over. Joel was then trying to pry the pin off his polo just as you stepped closer to her.

“Tess, he’s…” You considered spilling the beans en masse but quickly decided against it. You’d have to stick to the barest of bones if you had any hope of escaping this place. So, resuming, you squeezed her arm and just said:

“Flores is gonna bust us out. Get your shit and we’ll go.”

Theresa Servopoulos didn’t need to be told twice.

And when she scrambled over to her sex-stricken bunk, inquired with a hurried but patently grossed out expression about who the fuck had wet the bed while she was gone, Joel didn’t hesitate—he said it was him.

“FEDRA man with a piss kink. I like you already, Lucien.”

#ONE CABIN 🏚️#ONE BAND #ONE DREAM #ONE DIRECTION #IF YOU THOUGHT I WAS GONNA BE NORMAL ABOUT THIS YOU WOULD BE MISTAKEN HAHAHAHA #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fic #joel miller x you #dbf!joel

2K notes · View notes

studioghibelli · 5 months

Text

the end of the world- a joel miller x reader

summary: you had a strict relationship with joel that stuck to the rules. fuck, leave, repeat. it was only a matter of time until feelings were dragged into the mix. when joel leaves at the first sign of love, you're left wondering what you had done wrong. (rated explicit, 18+, mdni)

warnings: post outbreak!joel, jackson!era, implied fwb relationship, heavy handed on the angst, a whole lot of pining, a lot of flashbacks, and smut. (unprotected piv sex, fingering, clit rubbing, masturbation?, dirty talk, pet names, allusions to slapping/rougher sex, brief biting, a tiny bit of daddy kink.) ended with a bit of fluff

note: i think this is my favorite thing i have ever written. i guess i was in some sort of mood or sumfin. also i absolutely hate spell checking so sorry for any errors. enjoy!!

Joel used to be rough.

He used to imprint his name upon your skin through heavy handed grips and crescent shaped nail marks, left deep into the supple skin of your thighs. Like hieroglyphs on a wall of sandstone, he made sure the world would see what beauty he had left etched into your skin, like a canvas that only he had the privilege of painting.

He used to take you by the throat and kiss you with biblical fervor. He would kiss you so hard the taste of his spit lingered on your tongue for the days following, reminding you who you belonged to, if only for a few hours.

He used to sink his incisors into your neck, suckling at your skin like a vampire in search of an artery. He would leave deep patches of purple beneath your ear, the mark of a man who knew just what you wanted, the mark of a man who was more primal, more animalistic, than he was human.

Then, something changed.

Soft was he, on one fateful night, where his rough palms dragged across the side of your body, gentle waves of pleasure heaving, heaving, heaving, washing over you until you were a shell drowning in an ocean tide, consumed only by thoughts of him.

Joel, Joel, Joel.

A mantra, a promise, a prayer.

Soft was he, his lips molding to yours like cement stuck in the cracks of sidewalks, unwavering and unbreaking, filling you up to the hilt.

Soft was he, as he slipped his cock deep into your pussy, deep and gentle, hitting against every inch, every spot, that made your legs quiver just for him.

Soft was he, as he cradled your face in his rough hands, eyes boring in to your own, the curved bridge of his nose pressing into your rounded cheek, coaxing you, asking you, begging you, to cum for him.

Only ever him.

His hand's had done irreversible damage, taken many lives, and he pushed back the guilt for those crimes long ago, but Joel figured that perhaps holding your face in his hands was worth all the blood, the sweat, the grime and decay. Perhaps touching the skin of an angel was enough to bathe him clean from his past sins, enough to purify the monster which lurked within.

And then one day, he swore you off.

"Can't be around you anymore." He snarled, hand dragging down his face, heavy and hot with the burning poker of shame.

"Says who?" Your voice was cracking, the angry prick of tears stabbing at your eyes, like daggers dripping with bitter venom.

"Me. This ain't.... right. We should never have done this."

"Why isn't it right?" You were begging, trying your hardest to coax put a semblance of an answer from him.

"You're too young for this. For-for me. I ain't good for you."

"Where is this coming from? Just two nights ago you were making love-"

"That's the problem." Joel hissed. "Makin' love." He scoffed spitefully, shaking his head firmly. "It's the end of the fuckin' world and I'm worried about makin' a woman cum, makin' your eyes roll. I should be out fightin', I should be out makin' rounds and doin' my work. Ain't thought of anything like that since I've been with you. I have duties. Responsibilities. I'm too old to be sleeping around like some teenager."

You hated yourself for allowing a tear to slip, hated yourself for showing weakness in his presence. "What about your duty to me?" You cried out, hands tangling into tight fists. You felt your veins pumping with venomous resentment, wondering how you could have been so stupid to allow him respite behind the walls of your soul, sanctuary from the world around the two of you.

"I don't have no duty to you. You're not my wife, not my girl. You're just somebody I was fuckin'."

That was two months ago. Two long, grueling months.

This winter in Jackson was particularly brutal. Perhaps nature had been in tune with your heart, rocking and shaking and screaming in unison with your thoughts, angry and vengeful. Like Poseidon wreaking havoc on the ocean, like Zeus bringing hailstorms of lightning, like Zephyrus playing his hand in an assailing wind; you felt your rage through the soil, the packed snow, the shaking pine needles.

Everyday you would trek to your shop, sit behind the counter, and patiently wait for someone to stop by, wait for someone to ask how your day was (which you would inevitably lie about, tell them how good you were), and wait for someone to barter or trade with you.

A dozen chicken eggs for a woven blanket, a few sprigs of rosemary for some pencils, a handful of sheep's wool for some freshly pressed paper.

It was the same every day.

Rise, work, sit, cry, sleep, repeat.

For the past two months you had lurked around the corners of Jackson with a heavy gray cloud hanging over your head, and each day for the past two months you despised yourself for being so caught up with Joel fucking Miller, for being so upset he left you.

You lived in the smallest house in Jackson. There was no reason for you to take up a big one, no reason for you to have two stories, no reason for you to have a big open kitchen or spacious living room. What was the point? No husband, no children, no nothing.

You had tried to make it yours, and you had tried to make it happier since that horrible, awful, nasty thing happened between you and Joel.

You had bought a thick and oversized crocheted blanket the color of sand with a harvest worth of kale, thrown it over a soft and lived-in suede couch to curl up under. You had bartered a basketful of gourds for two knitted pillows, a brown dachshund stitched into one, and a ginger cat stitched into the other. You had picked up a backpack full of books on a run into the nearest town, settling on classics that you used to read as a young girl, in hopes you could feel that golden peace so often felt during childhood, when the only pressing matters on your mind were untied shoelaces and what mom was cooking for dinner.

A life long ago. A life you could barely remember. You were a small child when the world went to shit, barely starting school, with gaps between your teeth and messy, unruly hair. Still growing out of your sneakers, still biting your nails, still picking up worms from the rich soil with amazement and wonder bubbling in your eyes.

When everything happened, when the buildings were bombed and fields burnt, you were forced to grow up. Forced to toughen up, to be someone you never planned on being at such a young age. You ditched the sparkly backpacks and trips to the library for switch blades and look out towers, for uneasy silence and stale dinners.

Then you met Joel, many years after it first began, and everything seemed a little bit better. It started fast and rough, as though you both thought the world would implode the following morning. And then, when the realization that this was life, that nobody was going anywhere, things grew gentler, softer, more meaningful.

Joel's kisses grew deeper, his touches dragged out for longer, his mouth imprinted upon your soft and lithe skin like droplets of dew on blades of morning grass, gentle and ethereal. His words became breathless, sweet, full of desire and thick with honeyed praise.

"Look at you, such a pretty little thing. Shakin' like this, all for me. Who's makin' you feel like this, sweet girl?" Joel's middle finger was buried to the knuckle in your tight pussy, thumb gently tapping at your clit. A string of saliva strung from your nipple to his lips, where his plush mouth had been covering your hardening bud in gentle bites, sucking like a man on a mission.

"You." Your voice came out as a mewl, quiet and shaking. "You, daddy."

Joel grunted a primordial, brutish grunt that rumbled through the sturdiness of his chest, adding a second finger as his head ducked down to your neck, where his kissing resumed upon the blades of your collarbone. "Good fuckin' girl. Good girl. So fuckin' good, a god damn dream. You know that?"

The wall in front of you was covered in framed images you had found on your travels around Jackson. Some original art you scored in the back of a desolate thrift store, some vintage movie posters you found huddled in the dusty corners of a theatre, some polaroid photos you had taken with old friends.

You blinked the memories of him away.

With each day, you tried to convince yourself it was for the best. With each day, you tried to make yourself understand where he was coming from, why he did the things he did.

"You're just somebody I was fuckin'." You remembered his words like sandpaper grinding against the track of your throat, burning their fiery syllables into your tongue. How true his statement actually was, you weren't so sure.

Joel's forehead was pressed to yours, eyes fluttering open and shut with each deep thrust, hands entwined into your own. Your palms were pressed rigid and unyielding into his, Joel's thick fingers wrapping and molding into your smaller ones, chest rubbing against yours with each masterful movement of his hips.

His hot breath, soaked with the sweet smell of whiskey, fanned across your face, coating you with the ache he felt for you, the love he knew he had growing deep inside for you. Each breath he took was a promise. He was never going to leave you. How could he?

"Joel." You chanted, head thrown back in ecstasy, eyes full of stars.

"What do you want from me, darlin'? Say the word and its yours." Joel's voice was breathless and throaty, coating you in the sweet nectar of his affection, seeping deep into your pores until it filled your soul with yearning,

His cock, thick and veined, was slowly pumping as deep is it possibly could within your walls. You fluttered and ached and wept against him, bodies meshing into one, tight and close yet flowing and gentle, like the Bernini sculptures you saw in an art encyclopedia, a long time ago in Boston. Joel filled you to the brim with his length. You felt full of him, wrapped and wanting and wanton. For his eyes only. Only ever him, always.

"Right there." You begged, nails dragging down the length of his wide, sturdy, strong back, marking him with the love caked beneath your fingernails. That unspoken love that weighed heavy on your shoulders, like a wool blanket in the dead of winter.

When Joel's eyes met yours, hitting against the spot you begged him to touch, he had that gaze glossed over his irises, that heavy, awfully gentle look threaded within the chocolate umber of his orbs, the stare that only a man in love ever carried with him.

The memory stuck to your mind like glue on a school project, drying there with no hopes of ever coming loose.

That night, with Joel so heavy on your mind, you treaded heavily to your record player, sifting through the record's you had collected over the years.

"That'll do." You mumbled with dejected finality, putting the vinyl on the player as you lowered the needle.

Why does the sun keep on shining?

Why does the sea rush to shore?

Don't they know it's the end of the world,

Cause you don't love me, anymore?

As you listened to the sweet voice of Julie London, you looked around your kitchen, the pile of dishes only stacking up, higher and higher. With your hands on your hips you walked over, forcing yourself to do something with your night. You couldn't sit and mope, you had already spent too long doing that anyways.

You let the hot water fall upon the backs of your dainty hands, watching with glass eyes as it fell and dribbled off your fingers, the soapy suds filling the porcelain bowls. You cupped them in your hands, breathing in the citrusy scent, closing your eyes.

Think. You begged yourself. About anything else but him. Think.

Why do the birds go on singing?

Why do the stars glow above?

Don't they know it's the end of the world,

it ended when I lost your love.

You pricked the tip of your finger with the sharp point of the butcher knife, gently twisting it soft enough to only make the hint of an imprint, thinking to yourself. You had lived your entire life fighting, fleeing, hiding, escaping, yet it only ever felt like the end of the world once you lost him.

"Damn you Julie London!" You shouted, voice mellow dramatic and emotive, face planting into your arm which rested on the wooden counter.

"What'd Julie London ever do to you?"

The voice, raw and rough, startled you, awakening you from your trance. Before you could catch it, a puppy like yelp escaped your mouth, sharp and nasty against the ears.

You knew who that voice belonged to. The voice that lulled you to sleep, the voice that whispered sweet nothings as you lay naked and bare on linen sheets, the voice that called you good girl and sweet angel and pretty princess whilst crammed deep into your cunt.

Joel.

Turning so hard you nearly snapped your own neck, you saw him standing in the doorway of your home, tall and brooding, filling the heavy air with the familiar scent of pine needles and bergamot. He held a basket in his arms. A basket he had bought from your shop, many moons ago.

“Ever heard of knocking?” Your voice was nastier than you meant it to be, but you couldn’t help the emotion rising within the confines of your chest, beating at your ribcage like a wild animal locked in a zoo.

“I did knock. You didn’t answer. Took the liberty to walk on in and check on you.” He shrugged, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world, and slowly shut the door behind him.

“To check on me?” You scoffed bitterly, turning your back to him again as you resumed your cleaning. You heard the vinyl come to a stop, the air silent and palpable, moulding to your rage. You took in a deep breath, looking down at the sponge you were grasping ahold of a little too tight. “Two months go by, and suddenly today- of all days- you decide to take the liberty to come and…. check on me?”

Joel’s sigh, burdened with what felt like guilt, swirled through your ears. “Yes.” Was all he said, simple and plain.

Oh, you had a lot more to say than one meager word.

You were too nervous to meet his gaze, too worried your tears would come flooding, soaking through your skin and deteriorating until you were nothing more than a puddle of nothing on the wooden floorboards.

“I….” You struggled for a long moment, tongue twisted and stuck in your own throat. “I don’t know what to say to you anymore.”

You heard the sound of dense boots against the ground, felt the weight of the air behind you shift. He was close. His scent was coated around the inside of your nostrils, fogging your mind with past memories you swore you’d never ponder on again.

“I know what you want to say.” Joel’s voice was quiet, barely a whisper in the wind. “That you hate me. That you never want to see me again. That you hope I’m ripped limb from limb by clickers. Gunned down by raiders.”

Tears welled within your eyes. You didn’t speak for a long beat, sniffling as quietly as you could possibly muster. “After everything, you know I-…. even after you broke me. I-I don’t wish for that. Never even thought of that.” You admitted your terrible secret with a shaking voice, hand tightening so deeply around the sponge, your middle finger sunk straight through the material.

Joel’s fingers gently traced down the small of your back. An offer. You heard a gentle thump as he set the basket down, followed by his other hand pressing flat into your side.

“I’m scared.” His voice was full of emotion you had never once heard from him. “That’s why I left.”

“What?”

“I’ve lost everyone, ‘cept Ellie. Tess, Bill, Frank, Sarah.” His voice cracked, trailing off. “I couldn’t lose you, too. I can’t watch you…. can’t watch you fall victim to this world.”

You shook your head, dropping the sponge against the metal sink, tilting your head to look out the window which stood in front of you. The night sky was sparkling with millions of stars before you, snow flaking down from the heavens, coating the glass window pane with a copious layer of delicate snowflakes, each so different and unique. It was beautiful.

Joel’s left arm slowly wrapped around you. You wanted to fight him off, wanted to scream and banish him from your home, wanted to promise if you ever saw him again you’d kill him on the spot. But you couldn’t. Not when he was so vulnerable, so warm, so willing.

You shifted against him, leaning back until your bodies were close together. His hand rested taut against your belly, his other arm soon finding solace beneath your shirt, pulling you even closer.

“I’m sorry.” He finally broke the dizzying silence, chin nuzzling into the blade of your shoulder. “I didn’t know what else to do. I- I still don’t know what to do.”

You blinked away new forming tears, taking in a deep breath. “You could start by warming me up.” You were so meek, you were unsure if he heard your words.

Joel’s hands slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, pressing gently into the skin of your tummy, fingers massaging into the supple skin of your waist, your love handles, drawing circles into the line of skin right above the hem of your pants. Your back fell deeper into his chest as he touched you, felt you, as if he had never known your body before.

You could stand there and argue with him, cry and rage and scream at the universe, or you could let him apologize the best way he knew, let him make it all up to you.

“After this,” you managed to choke out, “am I still going to be somebody you just fuck?”

He wasted no time shaking his head. “You never were. You were, are, the light of my life. I don’t know what I was thinking.” His breath was hot against your neck, his lips pressing kisses, scattered like constellations, into your skin.

“You weren’t thinking.” You moaned a breathless laugh, head tilting to allow him access.

“No, I wasn’t.” Joel’s fingers slipped into your pants, palm cupping your pussy, hot and wet with the promise of his touches. “Damn baby, this horny already?”

“Haven’t been touched in two months. Sure you understand.”

He chuckled a deep, endearing chuckle, nudging his nose into your cheek. “Think I should do somethin’ about this?”

You nodded quickly.

“Words, pretty baby. Use your words.”

“Yes. Please, do… do something about it.”

“That’s my good girl. I’ll give you what you want, I promise.”

You felt butterflies brewing within your belly as his middle finger traced the middle of your green cotton underwear, rubbing where you swollen clit gently poked against. He knew you like the back of his hand, like a map he had spent years memorizing. Giving you pleasure, knowing where and how to make you cum, had become second nature for Joel.

“Don’t be ‘fraid to lean against me. Let daddy take care of you.”You groaned softly at his words, falling back into his body. His strong arms wrapped around you, keeping you up, bicep thick and muscled against you. “Push those down for me.”

You wiggled out of your pants and underwear, bottom half open and exposed for him. His fingers dragged across your mound, brushing against the outside of your pussy that cried out for his touch.

Joel slipped his index finger between your outer lips, finding your clit, slowly drawing circles around your aching bud. You sighed out, once again meshing in to his chest as he touched you, feeling the silkiness of your pink, throbbing cunt.

“I missed this pussy. So wet for me, so needy. You like it when I touch you? Like it when I make you feel good?” His words were hot in your ear, melting into your senses like dripping candle wax.

“Oh, I love it. I love it so much. I love you so much.” You were too caught up in pleasure to understand the weight of what you just said, head rolling against his shoulder as he teased your pussy.

Joel let out a quiet moan at what you just admitted, his hold on you tightening. He was never going to let you go. He sunk his middle finger into your tight opening, slowly hooking it against you G-spot, thrusting it up and down the way he knew made you cry for him.

Your knees were shaking, yet you had no fear of falling. As foolish as it may have been, you had complete trust in Joel Miller. You knew he wouldn’t let you drop. Your walls fluttered around his finger, clit begging to be touched once more. You lowered your hand, gently flicking at your swelling button, moaning out as he added his ring finger to your cunt.

“That’s it baby. Rub that pretty pussy. Cum on my fingers.” Joel whispered m, gently biting down on your ear lobe.

You felt your thighs quivering, belly tightening as your orgasm drew closer. Joel watched you with hawk like vision, relishing in the way your fingers traced and danced across your clit. Before you had the chance to announce your climax, you found yourself cumming on his digits, coating them in you sweet, slick arousal, screaming his name as thought it was the only word you ever had the chance to memorize.

When you came down from your high, Joel slowly removed his fingers, bringing them to your soft lips. “Suck.” He commanded gently. You did, wrapping your mouth around them as you gingerly took them in, all the way to the hilt, sucking them clean and dry, free from any of your cum. “That’s my good girl, my pretty darlin’.”

You shivered against him, your head falling back. Joel gently tapped the counter. “Jump up there.” He whispered.

You did as you were told, grabbing the collar of his flannel, pulling him closer.

“Kiss me, Joel Miller.”

And kiss you he did.

His lips found yours with the passion of ten thousand soldiers, sickly sweet and supple against your mouth. Joel was consuming you with this kiss, torridly leaving his mark into the soft ridges of your pouted lips, blanketing you with the desire he had for you that he so often tried to push down. Your fingers found his graying hair, legs wrapping around his waist until the bulge breaking at his jeans was pressed right into your bare pussy.

You grinded against him, clit still sensitive and aching from the power of your last orgasm. Still, you dropped your hands to his zipper, tugging them down swiftly.

“Want you to fuck me.” You whispered against his mouth, tongue sliding across his. “Want you to cum inside me. Make me yours.”

“You’ve always been mine.” Joel muttered, hand slipping down to remove his boxers. “I was just bein’ an idiot.”

“Then make it up to me.”

The tip of his cock found the slick lips of your pussy, and he slowly pushed himself in through on graceful movement, filling you to the top until your clit was pressed against his stomach. Joel felt your pussy clench against him, and he groaned, letting his head fall to your shoulder. He sat there for a moment, relishing in the warmth being inside of you provided, arms wrapped around you like a belt, pressing you hard into his chest.

You gently placed your hands on the back of his head, pulling away to look at him. Tracing over his features, you took every inch of him in. That Aquiline nose you had grown to love so much, the patchy beard littered with charming speckles of silver, that stray curl in the middle of his forehead that never stayed put. Joel Miller was beautiful. He was an enigma of a man. Stoic, masculine, tender, intuitive, full of emotions and worlds unknown to everyone. Everyone but you. He was a crazy, deep, beautiful paradox of a human, and he was all for you.

Joel slowly pushed out from you, before pumping himself back in. He did this a few more times, his eyes never straying from your own. His fingers slipped to your clit, gently rubbing the pad of his thumb against it.

“Think you can cum on my cock?”

You nodded.

A smile lifted the right corner of his mouth. “Tha’s what I like to hear.” He leaned down, kissing you again as he began fucking you, deep and slow, each move methodical and well planned, as if he knew just what he wanted to do to your body.

Your hands fell to his broad shoulders. His broad shoulders. That alone could have made you cum. The tanned slope of his beautiful, beautiful shoulders, collarbones thick and jutted out just right, followed by patchy chest hair, down to his soft belly that pressed into yours so perfectly. He was beautiful. You traced your fingers down the trail of his biceps, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch, straight to his wrists, lacing with his long, skilled, well worked fingers, palm rough and calloused, tough as leather against the softness of your sweet, smooth hands.

You drunk his figure in like a lovesick fool. Oh, you were, weren't you? So full of love and affection for this brute of a man, well aware he struggled with his emotions. You watched the crows feet by his eyes crinkle as he clamped his eyes shut, watched the line of his neck pulse as he threw his neck back in pleasure.

He was a Baroque portrait of lust standing before you, dark and brooding, thrusting into your cunt as if it were the sweetest thing in the world for him. He growled into the air with each pump of his hips, nails digging into your skin as he held you close, never to let go.

"Joel." You whispered softly, burying your face in his chest as your second orgasm fast approached. You weren't sure why you said his name, not sure what you wanted exactly, but Joel knew. He always knew. He just cradled the back of your head with his right hand, his other gripping ahold of your waist, pounding faster, deeper, harder, hungrier. You were all he wanted, all he ever wanted, all he ever needed.

Joel bit down onto your shoulder softly as he twitched inside you, and you knew his orgasm was soon to come. He kept the same pace on your clit until you were putty in his hands, legs tightening as pleasure washed over you. You both came in harmony, moans mixing and melding into the air which surrounded you. His cock painted your walls with thick, hot ropes of white, and your tightening walls milked every last lick of it out as your came hard, head dizzy with thoughts of him.

He whispered your name softly as he slowed to a stop, pillowing you against his body. "God, I missed you."

You nodded in agreement, sticky skin pressed together like two puzzle pieces. "I missed you." You pulled away, holding on to him for support as you slowly stepped off the counter. You gently pressed your palm into his chest, feeling his cum dribbling down your thigh. You smiled softly at the feeling before glancing up at him. "More than you know."

Joel gently ran his palm down your back as you slipped your underwear on, quickly following suit.

"What's in the basket?" You asked, pointing to the item he left alone on the living room rug.

"Oh. It was s'posed to be a peace offerin'. Makin' up with you was easier than I thought." Joel joked, and you gently slapped his shoulder.

"Whatever." You giggled, walking over to the present.

Inside were some paintings Ellie had made you that Joel never had the courage to send before, some sprigs of dried herbs they were growing in their back yard, some handmade goats soap from a lady down the street, and a long, narrow velvet box. You picked it up slowly, turning to look at him.

"Now if you don't like that I might as well go out and die in the woods. Took me fuckin' weeks to find." Joel admitted, rubbing his neck nervously. "I remember you sayin' you wanted one of them."

You slowly opened it, met with a shimmering string of pearls. A necklace. A necklace you had spent your whole life yearning for. Your lips parted with surprise. "I-I've never seen one in person. Only in those old magazines they had back at QZ."

Joel walked towards you, nodding a bit. "Spent a whole weekend with Tommy, all the way in Cheyenne. Almost got me killed." He chuckled, hands falling to your hips.

"Oh, Joel. It's beautiful. It's.... I've never seen something like this before." You whispered earnestly, gently sweeping your hair up. "Put it on me?"

He smiled a soft, rare smile, gingerly clipping it around your neck. He took a step back, admiring you, soaking you in, memorizing the way it looked on you. "Yeah, that was worth the trouble."

You smiled happily, falling into his arms. He held you tightly to his chest, fingers sweeping through your locks of hair. "By the way..." Joel murmured into your head, pulling away slowly as his fingers found your chin. Your eyes met in a searing gaze, full of summertime warmth that fell over you like golden sunlight. He stared at you long and hard, and you saw something like tears gloss over his gaze.

And when he spoke, his voice was calm, steady, devout:

"I love you, too."

3K notes · View notes

joelsgreys · 4 months

Text

captive

Raider! Joel Miller x Female Reader

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

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

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS.

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

word count: 1.4k

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

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

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

Loud. Much too loud.

You roll over, settling yourself on your side.

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

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

Everybody else is forced to sleep on the hard floor.

He always gets the room with the bed.

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

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

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

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

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

Sleep doesn’t come.

His absence is starting to bother you.

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

You’re getting used to him.

The sound of his voice.

The warmth of his body.

The taste of his lips.

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

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

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

He had taken everything from you.

Your family.

Your home.

Your innocence.

He was holding you captive. He was a monster.

But a monster doesn’t keep you safe.

Doesn’t clothe you.

Doesn’t feed you.

Doesn’t protect you.

He did all of those things and more.

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

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

You fucking hated him for what he’d done.

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

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

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

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

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

You hear the sound of his pack hitting the floor.

His worn leather boots being kicked off.

His rifle being set down, propped against the wall.

“How was the hunt?”

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

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

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

There’s a swoop in your tummy.

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

He’s got such a handsome face.

Monsters aren’t supposed to have handsome faces.

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

Of course you weren’t.

Joel Miller doesn’t let you go hungry.

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

He takes care of you.

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

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

You’re being sweet to him.

He clears his throat lightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Surprised, he turns around.

Almost immediately, your eyes fall to his cock.

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

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

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

His lips turn upwards into a subtle, faint grin.

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

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

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

Now your heart was starting to do the same.

And then there was your mind.

What if that stopped fighting him too?

Part of you is afraid it already has.

Joel climbs into bed, joining you under the sheets.

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

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

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

He runs his finger along your slick, silky folds.

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

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

Joel pulls his hand from between your legs.

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

And you shouldn’t be.

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

You choke out a sob.

It’s always overwhelming, that initial stretch.

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

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

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

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

Joel feathers a kiss onto your neck.

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

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

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

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

divider credit to @saradika🤍

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

2K notes · View notes

laligraves · 15 days

Text

a wedding in june

cult leader!joel miller x virgin fem!reader

[18+] | wc: ~3.2k summary: You run from Joel on your wedding day. masterlist | AO3

warnings: HBO Joel, TLOU AU, dubious consent (i'm so serious don't read if it makes you uncomfortable), some proofreading, post-outbreak, commune/cult vibes, arranged marriage, mentions of infected/gore/violence, no use of y/n or too many details on reader's appearance, some face slapping, loss of virginity (and some pain associated to that but only a few sentences), outdoors sex, oral (f! receiving), squirting, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n: i promise i have other ideas rattling in my brain besides dubious consent 😭 i have a whole wip chart with tons of ideas that i hope i can write

You run faster at the sound of shouts behind you. Sweat drips down your temples and fear makes your heart beat erratically, but you don’t dare stop.

The outer gates are only a few more hundred feet away. All you need to do is get past the trees and you’ll be able to escape. You don’t have time to think about how this will be your first time venturing outside of the commune.

Everything you were taught about the outside, about the orphaned souls and monsters that lurk, none of that matters. Not when you’re more terrified at what your future will bring.

Joel Miller. The man who in just a few months, cleared away the hundreds of infected in the nearby valley. Joel, who in the commune’s monthly hunting trips, manages to find everything from venison to medication.

The times you’ve been close enough to Joel, to feel the heat emanating off his body, you can almost taste the violence that simmers beneath his skin. Instead of it scaring you, like it would any sane person, it excites you.

The longing in his gaze whenever he looks at you makes you dizzy. There’s a pulse of heat between your thighs each and every time, one that will only go away after you ride your pillow until exhaustion. Whenever you face him again, after you’ve dreamed of him taking you, you wonder if he knows what you do in the privacy of your room.

There’s no denying that he’s saved this commune from the brink of starvation. Of course everyone, including you, is grateful for the kindness of a stranger. But in the months he’s been here, their gratitude has turned into pure devotion.

Your parents practically pushed you into his arms the moment Joel asked about you. Normally quite level headed, your parents have begun to treat Joel like a God. You thought Joel would find their insistence of marriage off putting, that he would be an honorable man and let you choose your own path in this place.

You were wrong.

Your parents saw it as an honor that out of all the women in the commune, Joel chose you. The books and pretty dresses he finds on his trips are only a sign of how devoted a husband he will be, at least that’s what your mother tried to tell you.

And the times you tried to speak to Joel and get him to rethink this marriage? Don’t worry about it, pretty girl, was all he would say before he’d send you off.

You can imagine him in your bed and fantasize about him in your dreams, but to be his wife? Especially now that he’s been chosen to lead the commune—you want nothing to do with that.

A denser path to your right has you changing directions, wishing to throw them off your trail. You can still make it if you run through here.

Except it’s too late. Strong arms grab and push you into the lush grass.

“No,” you scream, “let me go!”

“What’s wrong with you,” Joel snaps, “don’t you know what’s out there?”

“I don’t care,” you scream out childishly, “I’d rather be out there than be with you!”

He climbs on top of you, grabbing your wrists in one hand and pressing them above your head into the grass. He leans on your thighs to keep you still and grabs your chin with the other hand.

“Listen to me,” he insists, “you don’t know what you’re sayin’. You know nothin’ of what life is like outside these walls.”

He digs his fingers into your cheeks and shakes your head slightly since you refuse to look at him.

“Joel, did you find her?” your father calls out from a distance.

“Yeah, I got ‘er.”

“Great, let’s go back and finish the celebration–”

“No,” Joel calls out.

“Joel–”

“Leave,” Joel interrupts.

He continues sitting on you, putting most of his weight on your trembling body. The white dress you're wearing, a satin piece that he found on their last hunting trip into the town, rides up dangerously close to your panties.

“I need to teach you a lesson in respect, wife,” Joel growls.

He stands and just when you think you can escape again, he yanks you up with him. Joel holds your arm tight with one hand while taking off his belt with the other. He spins you around and brings your wrists behind your back, using the belt to bind them together.

“You wanna see what’s out there? Since you think you’re so tough?” Joel asks, not waiting for an answer and instead dragging you to the gate. “I do everything to make this place safe for you, darlin’. But this is how you repay me? Runnin’ off at the first chance you get?”

You’re surprised at his words and the sincerity of his voice. He sounds almost… sad.

“Practically beggin’ to be out there with those fuckers instead of me?” he continues, “The only man who can truly protect you?”

You reach the gate and your heartbeat picks up again. You’ve never been out this far. In fact, you’re acres away from the actual commune. While the gates are secure and regularly enforced, you can’t help but feel truly terrified that something will grab you just outside these barriers.

“I’m sorry, Joel–”

He stops, spinning you around and landing a hard slap, slap, slap on your ass.

“You address me as sir.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you cry out, “I learned my lesson. Let’s–let’s go back.”

Joel ignores you, choosing instead to march you right to the gate. He keeps one hand on your arm and uses the other to maneuver the many locks and wires on the barrier door until it finally opens.

“No, please! I said I was sorry! I wasn’t thinking!”

He drags you out and for the first time in your life, you’ve left the commune. Despite only a metal gate separating both sides, this area seems devoid of life.

He walks and walks until you wonder if you’ll pass out from the panic. You fall to your knees and Joel crouches right in front of you.

“Your daddy ever tell you about the infected?” Joel whispers, tilting your chin up with his index finger. “How they’ll bite and rip into any part of your flesh.”

“No, please,” you whimper.

He drags a finger down your neck and over your exposed collarbones, leaving goosebumps in his wake. Your nipples tighten as he glides his finger over one breast and then the other.

“Once they’re done with you, if there’s anything left, then you become just as mindless and violent as them. Forever lost–”

“Sir–”

His hand tightens around your neck, cutting off your words.

“It’s not just one, babydoll. They like to travel in hordes. Makes it easier to find their victims.”

Your air supply thins and blood rushes to your ears. You squeeze your thighs unconsciously as the pulsing between them only grows. Joel ghosts his lips over yours and your eyes flutter closed without thinking.

“But it’s not just them,” he whispers over your lips, “there’s non-infected out there. People who won’t think twice about hurtin’ a pretty girl like you. Killin’ ya’ just for fun.”

You’re not sure who kisses who first. It’s not the chaste kiss the two of you shared at the altar. It’s rough and has you pressing your body close to his so you can take every swipe of his tongue or bite from his teeth. He continues holding your neck, lightly squeezing so you have no other choice than to gasp for air.

You fall back at the push of his hand on your chest. He flips you on your side to untie his belt from your wrists. You attack the moment your hands are free, sliding your hands through his salt and pepper hair and tugging him down.

Joel hisses but returns each of your kisses and bites with his own. You hear the squawk of a crow from above and you're immediately reminded of where you are.

“Wait, sir,” you gasp, “not here. Take me back to your–our house–”

He drags his teeth down your neck, rubbing his beard into your soft skin and biting down.

“Thought you’d rather be out here than with me?” he says, repeating your words from earlier.

“No,” you whimper, trying to push him off, “not here. I–”

He reaches your chest and sucks your nipple into his mouth right over your dress. Your words are cut off and you're arching your back, trying to push more into his mouth.

Joel makes room between your thighs and grinds down as you twist his wavy strands of hair between your fingers. His hard bulge rubs over your pussy and your whimper at the roughness.

He pinches your other nipple between two fingers then leans back to tug down the straps of your dress. Warm, summer wind glides over your now naked breasts and you shiver.

“Look at these pretty tits,” he groans, “all mine.”

Joel yanks the skirt of the dress over your tummy and runs a finger up and down your panty-covered pussy. You shamelessly grind down on his hand and cry out the moment he lands a harsh slap.

“Please,” you beg with what's left of your sanity, “take me home.”

With the same technique as before, Joel holds both wrists in one hand and uses the other to rip your panties off. You try to close your thighs from the sting of the elastic, but he’s quick to stop you.

“Christ,” he whispers, “now ain’t that a beauty.”

With two fingers, Joel swipes through your slick folds and brings them up to his mouth.

“Mmm, sweet girl. Needa taste of this pussy.”

“What do you mean—“

You try to remind Joel of just where the two of you are, but he fits his broad shoulders between your thighs and fuses his mouth to your pussy.

You’re surprised, stunned silent by the heat of his mouth on your most intimate parts. You’re by no means ignorant of what a husband does to his wife—you’ve read enough of the romance books your mother keeps hidden in her bedside table and heard enough stories from your friends to have an idea of what happens on a wedding night.

But never did you imagine it would feel like this. His beard and mustache only heighten the sensitivity between your thighs. The setting sun and the dense forest that surrounds the two of you should add to your terror, but Joel manages to put your attention elsewhere.

His tongue lashes repeatedly over your clit and down to tease your entrance. You throw your head back onto the grass and stare through blurred vision at the purple sky, uncaring of where you are and of what creeps in the dark.

He’s greedy, eating away at you like you're the last meal he’ll ever have. You’re slick and sticky, painting his face with your juices, making it easy for him to push a thick finger into your entrance.

The stretch burns, but he calms you with a swipe of his tongue on your clit and the vibrations of his moans on your skin.

“Your parents were right, you are a virgin,” he groans, pushing on the little piece of thin flesh that separates the rest of you. “Gonna be a tight fit, baby.”

You have no time to think about when your parents had that conversation with him. Instead, you're dumbfounded at the size of his fingers. You whine, unsure of what exactly you're asking, but nonetheless chanting more, more, more into the air.

Joel manages to slide a second finger, curving them and pressing on something bumpy that makes you twitch and see black dots in your vision.

He stretches and scissors his fingers in your tightness, opening you up more and sucking your swollen button between his lips. Just when the heat is about to consume every inch of your body, he stops.

“No,” you whine, trying to yank his head back to your thighs.

Joel dodges your hands and laughs at the desperation written all over your face. He leans down, pressing his wet face to yours in a sloppy kiss, forcing you to suck on his tongue. Riding your pillow doesn’t compare to this.

Just as before, Joel rips away and catches your wrist right when you reach for him.

“If you woulda been a good girl, I woulda eaten this virgin pussy till mornin’,” he says while unbuttoning his jeans. “Made you ride my face and cum as many times as you wanted.”

You barely understand how someone could ride a face, and yet you clench and gush around nothing, wanting his mouth or fingers back. You see the dark, curly hair at his base before he pulls out his length.

“But for bein’ a brat, I’m gonna make you come on my cock instead.”

The tip is swollen and leaking a white-ish liquid that makes your mouth water at the sight. He lets go of your wrist and gently slaps your face.

“Are you listenin’ to me, girl? I won’t fuck you if you ain’t payin’ attention.”

“Y-yes, sir. I’m listening.”

Joel laughs once again, noticing the dazed look in your eyes.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make it fit.”

There’s a craving inside of you, one that has you suddenly feeling so empty, that if he doesn’t fill you with his cock you think you’ll die. You repeat the word over and over in your head.

You’ve read it more than enough times and heard it through hushed giggles from your friends, yet the way Joel says the word, the way he squeezes and twists his hand over his cock, you finally understand what the word truly means.

Your fingers and the handle of your hairbrush were never able to give you what you so desperately seeked. You always stopped before you went in too deep, never able to take that final push inside.

He spreads open your thighs and you lean up on your elbows to try to catch a glance at what he’s doing. You see your sticky fluids stuck on your inner thighs and over the tip of his cock. He pushes in just an inch, and you gasp at the thickness.

“Fuck, tight little thing,” Joel moans. “Need you to beg f’me, baby.”

“Please, please, sir,” you answer quickly, “please, I–I want it!”

He sinks in another inch, his face pinching in barely controlled restraint.

“Say–fuck, say ‘I need your cock, sir’.”

The words are caught in your throat as you try to adjust to his size. Joel doesn’t like that you take too long to answer and slaps your cheek.

“Answer me.”

“I need your–your cock, sir,” you whine.

“Again, fu–again,” he demands.

You try your best to repeat his words, except he’s too far gone now. There’s a pinch, a rip of thin flesh and suddenly he’s sliding all the way in. You claw at his arms and at the grass to get away but he’s gripping your thighs, pressing deeper and whispering take it, pretty girl and you ain’t getting away from me.

You feel full, so incredibly full. You’re split open, ripped apart just for him.

“I know, baby. I know,” Joel coos, “it’ll hurt only for a minute.”

His thumb rubs tiny circles on your clit and he leans over to press kisses on your eyelids and cheeks, licking away the tears that fall.

The stretch burns, but his groans of pleasure and his gentle kisses have a warm glow spreading through your body. Joel notices the change in you and glances down to watch your hips move in small circles.

“There we go, baby,” he moans, “knew you’d like it.”

He pulls out slowly, keeping eye contact with you and watching each pinch of your brow and flutter of your eyelids.

“Saved this pretty cunt just f’me, yeah?”

“Yes, sir,” you whisper, pushing away the sweaty curls from Joel’s forehead.

He picks up the pace, curling his hand behind your knee and pushing it into your chest, arranging you like a doll. The pain now completely gone, you lay there, running hands over his arms and watching the sweat drip down his temples.

Every slide of his cock kisses the very end of you. Your hips move and twist on their own accord and you have no choice but to cry out into the night sky.

“Takin’ this–this big cock like a good girl, yeah?” Joel groans, watching his cock plunge in and out of your little hole. “Need you–fuck, need you to say you’re mine, baby.”

“I–I’m yours, sir,” you whine, feeling a twinge in your core, “yours, yours, yours.”

You dig your fingers in his neck and drag him down for a kiss. He grunts as you bite deep enough to draw blood.

The thoughts from earlier, about running away from him, leave your mind. Even if it hurts a little, even if you aren’t prepared to be a wife, this is exactly what you need. And you won’t let anyone else have him.

“You gonna cum, girl? Gonna cum on your husband’s big cock?”

This time he doesn’t stop you. His hand squeezes your neck and he traps you into the ground, pistoning his hips into your slick cunt. Your oxygen lessens and your cumming, numbness and white heat spreading throughout your body.

“Just like that, baby,” Joel growls, “soak my cock.”

You're gushing on him, painting the hair at his base with sticky juices. You tremble in his arms and claw at the hand that squeezes your neck. Joel doesn’t let up, fucking into your limp body, loving the way you mewl underneath him.

He moves in short thrusts, stiffening and letting out an animalistic grunt into the night sky. He presses his head into your neck, sucking and biting into your soft skin while he spills his seed inside of you.

"Take my cum, baby. Take it, take it," Joel moans.

You clench around him, massage his cock with your inner muscles. Every drop of his cum belongs deep inside of you.

With the little strength left in your body, you run your fingers through his hair. Joel's hands move to grip your thighs and he grinds down, spilling the last of his cum into your cunt.

"You belong to me," Joel whispers. "Don’t ever run again."

You lay there in the grass, breasts bare and pussy full of your husband's cock.

"I won’t," you promise.

Joel leans back and slowly slips out. There’s a twinge of red mixed with his cum that he wipes up with your ripped panties. He lays down next to you and brings you in close so that your head is placed on his chest. You listen to his heartbeat and the sounds of crickets around you.

You think about the long way back to Joel's–well now your house too–and then you remember exactly where the two of you are.

"Sir, we're outside of the gates what if something or someone comes–we don't have any weapons–"

“There’s another gate a few miles out," he interrupts, "I installed it for extra protection around this place.”

You drop your head on his chest from relief and exhaustion. Joel rubs a hand down your back and squeezes your arm.

“I’d never put you in harm's way, pretty girl.”

general taglist: iloved1lfs0

ps: i know that there has been other cult leader!joel fics but in no way shape or form have i copied those works for this. if there is something major in my work that sounds similar to someone else's, it's purely by coincidence. i respect each person who takes time out of their day to write FREE content and the last thing i'd do is steal their storylines 🤍🤍🤍

#joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #hbo joel miller x reader #dark joel miller #dark fic

1K notes · View notes

lincolndjarin · 6 months

Text

Oh Honey. ✩ Chapter 4

chapter four : painting the roses red

series masterlist ao3 kofi main masterlist

a/n : omfg im so sorry for how long this took to get out, with finishing another a fic and the holidays ive been swamped and this chapter was a bit of a monster (haha) so it took a lot of writing and rewriting but i'm relatively pleased with how it turned out. i hope y'all enjoy the penultimate chapter of oh honey!!

pairing : monster!joel miller x mortician!reader

rating : 18+ mdni - explicit content, read all warnings

word count : 11.7k

summary : feeling are hard, especially when your boyfriend is a blood thirsty monster and you’re supernaturally attracted to him.

warnings, etc. : dead dove do not eat, angst, graphic violence, language, smut, joel and reader are both not in good headspaces, dubcon (reader & joel are compelled to be together, all sexual acts are consensual but there is a uncontrolled attraction between the two characters), fingering in every sense of the word, joel is real beastly in this, spit kink (so much spit guys), oral m&f receiving, monster sex, vaginal&anal penetration, double penetration, body horror, rough sex, tit fucking, thigh fucking, cock warming, cum eating, size kink, period sex, blood drinking, gore, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, you know how joel has a big dick in every fic? what if he was literally 8 feet tall and an actual monster? that's how big his dick is in this, somnophilia, spit as lube, i'm making a lot of stuff up regarding vaginal&anal elasticity, biting, marking, death, readers hair is long enough to pull, i'm probably missing tags cause this chapter is a lot but tldr - joel is a monster with a monster cock and he's putting it in all sorts of places. this is a monster fucker fic - proceed accordingly

“Joel…” You give him a wary look as he bares his teeth at you, a low rumble starting in his throat as your instincts kick in. “Joel!” You yell like you would if you were scolding a dog and he freezes in place.

Your head is fuzzy and you can only hope that his is as well. That supernatural attraction you have for him suddenly feels as if it’s increased tenfold.

He doesn’t just smell good anymore. He has an aura now, the air around him is heavy, like you’re breathing in water. The scent of it is thick with lavender and peppermint, it’s a fresh and earthy smell that makes you want to inhale deeper.

You want to touch him, taste him. His skin looks so smooth like this, pulled taut and tight, you have to fight the urge to run your fingers across it just to see if it’s as silky as it looks. You want to grab him by the antlers and hold him in place so you can just breathe in the floral smell of his breath.

He hovers above you, unmoving as if waiting for a command. His large glassy eyes give you a curious look and you take the opportunity to sit up a bit straighter.

He’s scratching the hardwood.

It’s the silliest detail to focus on but Joel clearly loves his home, he takes such good care of it and the last thing you want is for him to accidentally destroy it in this state. So you do the only thing you can think to do on such short notice.

“Let’s go to bed Joel. I’m tired.” You get to your feet extremely slowly, he backs up enough to let you stand. Practically purring when you hold your hand out, he reaches his out to meet yours. Your entire hand fits in his palm so you just take one of his fingers, wrapping your hand around it as you lead him down the hall. When you open his bedroom door he rushes in excitedly, curling up on the mattress in the middle of the room.

You reach up, turning the overhead light on but he immediately flinches, snarling as you quickly turn it off.

“I’ll- umm, go get a lamp.” You turn to leave but a large hand grips your waist. You put your hands over it, carefully peeling his fingers off of you. “I’m just going to the living room… I’ll be right back.” He huffs. You feel his exhale on your back as you hurry out into the hall. Your stomach churns instantly.

It’s hard to be away from him under normal circumstances but just being in a different room now makes you want to hurl.

You move swiftly. Unplugging the first lamp you find.

You should run.

The smart thing to do right now would be to grab his keys off the counter, get in the truck, and call Tommy.

But is that what you really want?

You’re trying to think of any reasons you have to not be with Joel but your mind is so cloudy, you can’t recall a single thing.

So you take the lamp back to his room. Plugging it in, dimly illuminating the room before shutting the door.

Your body isn’t sure what to do.

You’re afraid. More afraid than you’ve ever been. But also disturbingly aroused. He sits on the bed. If he had a tail you’re certain it'd be wagging. He looks so excited. How much of him is still Joel? Certainly not all of it, it seems like him but… beastly? He doesn’t seem to understand boundaries or human etiquette in general.

But his eyes are Joel’s.

It’s all of Joel’s personality traits with absolutely zero inhibitions.

Once the lamp is plugged in and on he makes his way to the edge of the bed before reaching forward, one talon hooks onto your shirt collar. He tears through it, dragging you forward as you stumble into his lap.

“You’re sleepy?” He grumbles. You nod frantically and he tosses you down onto the mattress. You land with a soft thud. You can add ‘not aware of his own strength’ onto the list of things you know about Joel in this form.

He’s got a single pillow and a thin sheet. You lay your head on the pillow but have no time to grab the blanket as he lays down beside you, his entire body curled around you.

Your face is pressed into his chest and you get a chance to inhale his sweet scent.

It goes straight to your core.

It feels like you must be gushing at this point.

You decide to turn around. It doesn’t cross your mind to not turn your back on him until it’s too late. He grabs you, pulling you flush against him. His talons scrape across your clothes. Every slice has you wincing, you’re waiting to see blood but he’s careful.

He never so much as nicks you.

You remain unmoving through the process only watching until he begins to peel your clothes off of you until you’re in your underwear which he immediately makes quick work of.

Okay.

You're naked in bed with your monster boyfriend, what could go wrong?

“Pretty.” He speaks in a low bellowing tone.

“Thank you, Joel.” You whisper back. “You’re pretty too.” He only exhales sharply in response. You go ridgid immediately when he slowly traces a claw up and down your stomach. When his hand begins dipping lower you instinctively recoil, thin scratch lines follow his movements, but he’s careful to not ever break the skin. “Not there-” He holds a hand in front of your face, letting you watch as he retracts it back into the skin, his maw nuzzling into the back of your neck as he does. You take his hand in both of yours, inspecting his fingers, seemingly no longer sharp but you’re still apprehensive. You hold him close to your face in an attempt to keep him away from your most sensitive bits, not wanting to take the risk of having your insides torn to shreds. He bumps an uncoordinated finger against your chin instead, poking at you until you apprehensively open your mouth a bit. Immediately he takes the opportunity to push a thick, gangly finger past your lips.

You inhale sharply but you can’t help yourself as you run your tongue along the digit, his skin tastes like sugar cookies and before you’re even aware of what’s happening you’re completely lost in the taste.

His fingers have practically tripled in size and as he tries to push another finger into your mouth your jaw aches at the stretch.

“Ole-” Is all you can mumble out as he scrunches up tighter around you, your throat constricting around him as he probes deeper. Could he break your jaw like this? He definitely could, you’ve seen first hand what kind of violence he’s capable of yet for some reason you don’t push him away, he’s being careful eith you.

Slow and methodical as he rests his head atop of yours he moves his fingers in and out of your mouth. It’s sort of like a blowjob. If you were blowing two boney dicks. It’s only a matter of seconds before you’re salivating wildly at the taste, your chin slick with drool as he watches each motion intently, slowing when your eyes begin to water.

“So, so pretty.” He withdrawals his fingers, sucking them into his own mouth before languidly letting his tongue drop out of his maw, licking up the spit from your chin. You’re gasping faintly, his tongue is hot silk on your lips as he slides the appendage into you. The sound is obscene as he runs his tongue along the inside of your cheeks and across your teeth, tasting every single inch of you that he can reach, and he reaches pretty far. You gag when he pushes in deeper, his jaw practically wrapped around yours as delves deeper. Finally you retch when his tongue slides into your throat and he withdrawals, licking any remnants of your saliva from your lips before staring at you with a satisfied look.

“Sleep?” Even when he whispers it feels like he’s shaking the very foundation of the house.

“Yes Joel, we should sleep.” Your voice is already raspy from the brief interaction. He picks the blanket up between two talons, pulling it up over you before wrapping himself around you entirely, caging you against his chest and between his arms.

You should be afraid, you should be absolutely appalled by everything that’s just happened but you’re tired. You’re so, so, tired and Joel is warm. And he’s safe, no one and nothing can hurt you here with him.

You haven’t slept well in ages.

And he smells so nice.

When his breathing slows and the large expanse of his chest heaves you shut your eyes, unable to find the energy to do anything else.

You wake with a start when Joel bumps his face against yours, when you open your eyes he’s staring at you rather nervously, a slight anxiety behind the darkness of his eyes.

“Are you hungry?” He mumbles, knocking a few items towards you on the bed. You stare at the bottle of water and poorly constructed sandwich, the bread squished and torn. You can’t help but smile at the gesture.

“Thank you.” You sip at the water before eating the messy sandwich, it isn’t terrible, and he clearly made an effort. You stifle a laugh at the thought of him in this state maneuvering around the kitchen. He sits patiently beside you, occasionally scratching at his antlers until you’re finished. Once you’re taken care of in that regard he makes a hushed whining noise that has your head turning in an instant. “Are you okay?” It almost sounds like he’s in pain as you scoot towards him, keeping the blanket held up against your chest to maintain some sense of your modesty. He nods, almost looking bashful as the parts of his face that are still intact blush red.

“Can you sit with me?” He motions towards his lap as you nod, moving to sit between his legs with your back to his chest. His hands go to touch you but he stops himself hovering above you until you nod.

“It’s okay, you can touch.” You’re less nervous now that you’ve had him in your mouth, certain he isn’t going to tear into you. And with that his hands pull down the blanket. He tosses it aside as he pushes your legs up onto his, spreading you wide open as he rests his head on your shoulder, inhaling deeply. He makes sure you can watch him retract his claws before he tilts his head forward before letting a thick line of saliva fall down his tongue onto your breasts, watching with heavy breaths as it falls down your body until it crests above your mound. With a sharp inhale you can feel him drip along your seam. Once it’s where he wants it he happily glides his fingers across your core, rubbing his spit in, before you’re even a little ready for it he your entrance, pushing a finger into you as the air is punched out of your stomach by the suddenness. He leans forward to get a better view as your pussy sucks him in.

You’re dizzy. Drunk purely off of his touch as you lean back to rest against him as he pushes further till you’ve taken his entire finger. Delicately, like you might break, he fucks you with the digit, it isn’t until he begins moving in and out that you see the mixture of slick that pouts out of you like a fountain. Some of it’s his spit but the rest is an intricate design of reds, pinks, and whites. You hadn’t even remembered you were on your period, everything has been such a whirlwind.

He doesn’t seem to mind getting his hands dirty. If anything the sight of blood seems to egg him on as he speeds up, opting to curl his finger every so often to press the spongy nerves there that make your ankles dig into the mattress and your back arch off of him. Your stomach tightens with every press of the tip of his finger against your insides.

“Joel- oh my god, Joel please.” You ramble a messy chant of his name as his other hand glides down your torso. He barely even has to ghost his fingers over your clit to make you lurch forward, seeing stars as he holds you tight. Your walls tighten around him as you come with a choked up cry.

The second you come you don’t even have a second to breathe before he’s lifting you up by your hips, squeezing to maneuver you so you’re flat on your back and held up by your ankles

“Joel!” You yelp in surprise but you're silent the second he reaches up to put his finger into your mouth, your tongue melting against his skin, reveling in the taste of the mixture. The sharp tang of your own fluids is present but they’re overpowered by the traces of his saliva. Your eyes shut as your hands grab his wrist, sucking him clean in the process. It’s warm, like how scotch would go down but it tastes like maple syrup and you just can’t stop.

You want more. More Joel, as much as he’ll give you. You grip his finger with your lips as he removes it with a faint pop, settling down by your legs. His crooked spine curls up even when he lays on his stomach like this. In any other instance you’d feel self conscious of the way he examines your most intimate areas in the lamp light but you’re too blissed out to care. You start to prop yourself up to look down at him but just as you do he starts touching you again. You collapse down onto the mattress with a filthy moan as he pushes his finger back into you, with much more ease this time around. As his pointer finger twitches and wiggles around within you you feel his middle finger drifting lower. You’re so slick between your legs because of everything that he doesn’t need any sort of lubricant to press into your other hole. You’re thankful for how slow he goes. Alternating between soft nudges against your g-spot to deeper presses into your ass as he tries to fill you as much as possible.

The sound of flesh slapping together fills the room as he begins moving rapidly, in and out, and in and out, and in and out. Until you can’t think straight. You don’t make a sound, only able to open your mouth in a silent scream accompanied by gasps.

You aren’t entirely sure what his intentions were with how long he fucks you on his hand until he finally pulls it away, his breath hot as he salivates at the sight of your twitching, puffy holes.

He was warming you up to take his tongue.

Once his mouth latches onto you he can’t control himself. Immediately he delves into the soaking wet heat between your thighs, poking and prodding every nerve and sensitive spot within you. You watch with morbid fascination as he unhinges his jaw enough to fully envelop your pussy. His teeth graze the plush skin of your mound as he pushes further into you, the tip of his tongue pokes at your cervix but he just keeps pushing.

“Ah-” You gasp, hands darting downwards to grab at his curls, holding tight as he flattens the base of his tongue against your clit. In one fluid moment he pulls himself out of you, sliding down, prodding at your asshole. It’s a foreign sensation as he licks up and down, from your puckered hole back up to your clit. It leaves you buzzing and craving more. He teases between your clit and hole, slurping and humming, as if he were eating a delicious meal.

You don’t do anything but stare at the ceiling trying to stay conscious as he pulls orgasm after orgasm from your weeping cunt. When your legs begin to shake and go limp on either side of his head he grunts in discontent, simply picking up each of your ankles and setting them on his antlers as if they were stirrups. He seems to prefer you in that position and you do too, you don’t have to worry about anything other than remembering how to inhale and exhale, and he has all the access he could possibly want to the home he finds between your legs.

Funnily enough he’s more human than ever when his face is pressed into your folds. He certainly talks more, constantly mumbling into your tender flesh.

“S’ so sweet.” It isn’t the first time he’s said that, you can’t help but wonder what you taste like to him. His mouth is a bloody mess as his lips wrap around your hole as best they can, trying to pull more blood from you. When he briefly pulls away he exhales, satisfied, before returning to his work. “So- so fuckin’ sweet.” He growls, the vibrations pulling an almost painful orgasm out of you. “Fuckin’ made for me.”

He’s relentless and endless.

When he knows you can’t take anymore he gives you small breaks. Nipping at your thighs and chest to satisfy himself instead. He doesn’t break the skin, just scraping his teeth against you while trailing the faint sting with his tongue. You come to your senses briefly as he’s dragging his teeth over your pebbled nipple. There’s no more shame or hesitation, you can’t control yourself as you grab him by the antlers, bringing up to your face as you hungrily open your mouth. He obliges immediately, spitting onto your waiting tongue before going back to his work.

It doesn’t take much after that for you to be completely gone. Melting into his eager maw, letting him have you entirely.

Are you still conscious? If your eyes are open they aren’t seeing anything. You’re pretty sure you’re asleep. If you are, it isn't slowing him down in the slightest but you can’t complain, you couldn’t form a sentence if you tried.

You just let yourself sleep.

And you don’t dream.

His head is using your stomach as a pillow as he snores softly. There’s a bottle of water thrown down beside you that you gratefully take, drinking the entirety down in one go.

The sound of your drinking makes him stir.

When he wakes he crawls upwards, he presses something sort of like a kiss to your lips before adjusting you both.

He lifts you into his lap, cradling you between his thighs as he rubs you down against the tent in his pants. As far as you can tell he hasn’t sought any relief of his own these last couple days but it certainly feels like that’s what’s about to happen. You can feel his monstrous cock against your legs, you hadn’t even considered until just now that it would have gotten bigger along with the rest of him, too distracted by everything else, but you’re suddenly aware of how just massive the thing pressed against you is, a small tree trunk nestled between your thighs as his fingers pull your ankles apart to further rub himself into you.

One large hand holds you in place as the other tears at the pants you still can’t believe survived his transformation, they don’t survive the small razors of his talons though as he slices through the flimsy fabric and your mouth falls open in disbelief.

He slaps his length down onto your stomach, pulling you down so you’re essentially sitting with it between your legs. His breath is hot and heavy against your face.

It’s as if he’s sizing himself up, trying to figure out just how far into your stomach he’d go. Your fear is apparent as you stare down at the sheer size of him.

A tree trunk was definitely an exaggeration.

It’s closer to a baseball bat.

To accomplish his size his foreskin has pulled back a bit, now giving you a perfect view of his leaking tip, angry and red.

You gulp, almost comically.

How the fuck are you supposed to fit something the size of your forearm into your vagina? The simple answer is you aren’t, at least not now. He lays you back down on the bed, your heart rate picks up at the thought of him trying to squeeze himself into you but thankfully he moves upwards instead.

He sets his dick down onto your sternum. His massive hands come down to push your chest up, trying to wrap your tits around his length roughly as you gasp.

“Joel- Joel let me do it, hon.” You gently lift your own hands to remove his, carefully avoiding his extended claws as you do so. He grunts but relents, placing his hands on either side of your head as he lets a thick line of spit fall off of his tongue onto your tits. Without missing a beat he begins to rock himself between them.

Slow and steady at first but quickly he picks up his pace, grunting and clawing at the mattress around you as he tilts his head back. You can’t help yourself as you open your mouth, letting his cock head slide in and out of your mouth. It’s the closest you’re gonna get to blowing him when he’s this size.

If you thought he’d tasted good before you’d been sorely mistaken. He tastes comfortable and familiar now, like hot chocolate and marshmallows.

Sweet and sticky as he leaks onto your tongue.

He doesn’t last very long at the speed he’s going, needy and desperate to paint your face.

With a few more quick thrusts he falls forward, his body arching over yours as he comes with a snarl, tearing into the mattress, as your face is coated in his cum, more than you’ve ever seen before. Enough to completely cover the bottom half of your face as your mouth falls open. You’re ravenous in your efforts to lick it up. When he calms down a bit he leans back to help you, scooping up his spend with his fingers and pressing it onto your tongue. With greedy little sounds you swallow every last bit.

“You’re okay?” He mumbles as you sit up.

“I’m good.” You smile, when was the last time you thought clearly? Your head is spinning, everything about him is too good to be true. It’s as if you never feared him at all.

He gives you a few minutes to recover before he’s raring to go again. You watch as his cock slaps up against his stomach as he stares at you.

“Already?” You give him a skeptical look as he nods. He picks you up once more, spreading your legs apart as he settles himself between them.

Grabbing you by your hips he begins to move you up and down. The only effort you have to make is squeezing your thighs around him, he does the rest for you, stroking you up and down his length as if you were his own personal fleshlight. Your tits bounce with each slam downward, you cunt aching from the friction. Eventually he spits again, watching as the string falls down to his cock, effectively coating him and making it easy to move you quicker. When he leans down, licking the pulse points on your neck you wrap your fingers around his antlers in an attempt to steady yourself.

He’s not touching you enough.

He ghosts over your clit with every thrust but it just isn’t enough contact as you whine. After a few more agonizing seconds you feel a sharp pinch as he finishes across your chest. When he pulls away his front teeth are slick with blood. Your hand flies to your neck and you quickly find the source of your brief pain. He looks ashamed as you shake your head.

“It’s okay, you just got excited.” You whisper, he doesn’t shy away as you pull yourself up to wrap your arms around his neck. “It’s okay.” He hums softly and you feel him continuing to lap at the wound.

He doesn’t give you a break this time around.

Holding his hand in his lap as you ride his fingers, keeping your arms around his neck as you use him as leverage to help you lift up and off of him only to slam back down. You struggle to catch your breath as you chase that satisfaction you aren’t sure you’re ever going to reach. Will it ever be enough? Or will you always feel this painful hunger for him?

You don’t get a chance to linger on your worries as he grinds his palm upwards into your clit, pulling an orgasm from your exhausted body. You’re so full, almost too full as you lay limply against him. Two monstrous fingers pressed into your weary cunt and one in your ass as you let out a sob of pleasure.

“Joel- Joel I can’t do it anymore, I-I’m too tired.” You sniffle in his lap as he runs a hand through your hair.

“Can I- can I put it in while you sleep?” He mumbles. In any other circumstance you’d be furious at that kind of question but the idea’s too appealing. He’s too appealing. You nod and that’s all he needs. He lays back on the shredded mattress as you straddle his lap. His cock stands stiff in front of you as you trace a finger through the coarse hair at the base, lightly scraping your fingernails across the prominent vein running along the underside of his shaft before finally sitting up, trying to line him up at your entrance before taking a deep breath.

“Jesus- fuck Joel.” You’re unable to form any sort of coherent sentence as you lower yourself down onto him. You’re thankful for whatever mysterious force makes you crave him so dearly because you’re certain that without it you’d be in immense pain, the ruddy head of his cock feels like a fucking grapefruit being squeezed into your vagina. It’s a slow, arduous process. He makes no effort to rush you, remaining quiet outside of his whimpers as you struggle to push him in deeper. It becomes clear at one point that he isn’t going to fit any deeper unless he wants to poke your lungs. You’re slick with sweat, panting as you look at him for approval. His eyes stare in awe at you, a finger tracing the vague bulge in your stomach where he rests inside of you.

You’re so weary you just fall forward onto him. Laying your head on his chest, his cock pulsing within your walls, straining to adjust to him as both moan in unison. You want to stay awake, you want to ride him and watch his face as you take more and more of him but you’re so fucking tired you can’t even keep your eyes open. Trying to get just a bit of rest.

He doesn’t seem to care what part of you he’s fucking as long as he gets to stick himself somewhere. At one point he tries to put it in your belly button and you have to swat him away.

You don’t get much sleep, he doesn’t seem to need much of it so you don’t get any either.

“Wake up.” You feel his maw rifling through your hair, his teeth softly scrape against the back of your neck. “Please.”

You hum, half asleep, and reaching around in the darkness to gently push his face away as he huffs with indignation.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” You massage the tense flesh of his jaw as he tilts himself down, nudging his nose against your face.

“Missed you.”

“Oh, honey, I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.” You murmur, a pang of sympathy fills your chest. “I’m just tired.”

You’re always tired.

You weren’t sleeping well before your monster boyfriend was spending every waking moment fucking you senseless and you definitely aren’t now.

He whines, high pitched from the back of his throat.

“You feel a lot of big emotions when you’re like this, don’t you hon.” Your voice is soft and raspy as you reach for him.

“Got bored without ya.” He grumbles, leaning into your touch as you struggle to find his eyes in the darkness.

You want to enjoy his praises more but you still aren’t l sure if it’s him at this, how conscious is the Joel you know in there?

“Joel?”

“Hmm?” His tongue pokes at your jaw as he hums.

“How much of this is really you? Do you remember our dates? Our fights?”

“S’all me. M’just bigger.”

“Mhmm. Is it a little fuzzy for you? Being near me?”

“S’warm.” It is. He’s like a goddamn furnace but you don’t care if you get burnt as long as you stay warm.

“Yeah?”

“And fuzzy, I s’pose.” He inhales deeply, snout buried in your hair. “I like bein’ near you.”

“I like being near you too Joel.” You’re almost certain you don’t. A nagging feeling in the back of your mind tells you that something is horribly wrong here. Any of those thoughts vanish though as you realize he’s still nestled deep within you, something that you’ve been waking up to more and more often. Your cunt flutters around him as you cautiously slide him out of you. A flood of relief washing over your sore muscles as you do so but the reprieve is short.

He twists you around so you’re on your hands and knees, briefly thrusting haphazardly between your thighs before grunting in frustration, slapping himself down on your back. After a brief pause you feel the familiar sensation of his saliva on your lower back, his cock sliding through the mess as he plays with the meat of your ass. Eventually he moves, you’re a little worried he might try and fuck your ass like this but thankfully he seems more than content just rocking his hips against the swell of your cheeks, watching your holes twitch eagerly until he can’t help himself, sliding back into your still puffy cunt.

“Christ Joel!” You squeal as he presses up into your cervix in one hasty motion.

You can practically feel him in your throat as he snarls, once again taking complete control over your body as he holds your hips, pulling you back onto his length. He’s so thick, splitting you open, pressing into every soft spot within you until you’re seeing spots in your vision. He’s hell bent on trying to squeeze himself into you entirely despite the fact that it simply isn’t going to happen.

How long have you been here?

As your mind wanders he seemingly senses your mood shift as a large hand begins rubbing soft circles into your clit until you forget any of your concerns.

It’s easy to lose your train of thought when you’re coming your brains out.

“Joel, Joel, Joel.” You gasp out as his grip on your hips tenses.

“Fuck- I fuckin’- bunny-” He unravels, face buried in your hair as he rambles.

He isn’t far behind you, when you come he pulls out quickly. His cum coats your spine, a few flecks settling in your hair as you collapse, already tired again, now with a satisfied Joel laying on top of you.

“Love you so fuckin’ much.” He mumbles, barely audible.

You pretend not to hear it.

It’s a never ending cycle.

Wake up, fuck, drink water if it’s there, sleep, repeat.

You don’t say anything but Joel as he wrenches the word from your throat over, and over, and over again.

Until you wake up with his head between your legs, the moment you smiled down at him he pulled off of you with a grunt.

He stumbles back and away from you, groaning in pain, your instinct is to immediately go to him but he holds his hands up in front of himself to stop you.

“Joel?”

Your hands fly to your ears, your palms trying to block out the sound of his wailing. It’s somehow worse, watching it in reverse. The way his bones break so suddenly, his skin ripples and does its best to adjust but it looks like agony as it tries to push itself back into its proper shape despite the fact that there’s simply too much blood in his body. He’s leaking out the excess. Eyes, ears, nose and mouth, the blood just has nowhere else to go. You want to help him, to hold him but you can’t seem to move, you’re a captivated audience to the macabre display.

His mouth is the worst of it. His jaw retreats back into its proper place before the skin has time to mend and the teeth have time to retract, making a gruesome mess of the bottom half of his face as his mouth does it’s best to hold too many teeth that are too big and too sharp as the push his tongue back into his throat while butchering his lips, reducing them to bloody shreds.

Finally your brain manages to move your limbs as you rush forward, taking his face in your hands, trying to calm him down as he roars, pained and frightened. You press your forehead to his, whispering to him.

“Hey- hey you’re okay. You’re okay.” His antlers begin to retreat back into his skull with a wet crunching. Each inch further has him wincing and crying out as you rub the tender skin of his cheeks as the holes in the flesh splice back together.

Until it’s finally over and everything is quiet.

Then it happens.

It’s like waking up.

Like you’ve been trapped in a dense, dense, fog. A salt and peppered, vanilla flavored, pine scented fog, and when the mist clears you see the truth that was hiding from you these past few days.

And you see the monster.

It doesn’t matter that he stayed here with you and didn’t hurt anyone during this cycle. It doesn’t matter that you’re ‘destined’ to be with him. And it doesn’t matter that he loves you.

You’re looking at a monster.

And that fact has nothing to do with the creature he turned into. He killed people, good people, innocent people. How the hell are you supposed to love him like this?

You don’t love him.

You can’t. He’s sick, he’s a murderer.

And you haven’t even addressed Darlene in the slightest.

He’s a monster, and a killer.

And currently he’s sat across from you with a rather stunned look on his face, holding the blanket up over his waist, blood still slick on his skin.

You do the only logical thing that comes to mind and you stand, walking out of the room, grateful that he doesn’t try to stop you. You search his laundry room for clothes, eventually finding a stretched out Fleetwood Mac shirt in the dryer and some basketball shorts that fit you well enough.

You’re trying to recall the events of the last few days but it’s all so blurry it makes your head hurt as you walk back into the kitchen, desperate to just get out of here.

Your phone is on the counter, dead, you don’t have a way out of here so with a sigh you unravel your charger, plugging it in on the counter. You listen for any signs of Joel but you hear nothing, a part of you wants to go check on him but you can’t bring yourself to face him.

He’s a murderer.

Why can’t you seem to remember that?

Your stomach growls as your phone buzzes to life, your hunger taking priority as you start looking through his cupboards until you find a cereal box, not bothering to find a bowl you simply reach in. The generic sugary flavor coats your tongue as you try to remember the last time you ate anything. You certainly ate at some point, you’re pretty sure Joel didn’t eat, he’s probably hungry. You shove one last handful of cereal into your mouth before setting the box aside for him. As your phone slowly powers on you’re met with an ambush of notifications, you quickly grab the device, silencing it as you watch your screen fill with messages. The majority are from Maria but you have a few from an unknown number, you scroll through those ones first.

[ hey are you good? Marias worried sick about you ]

[ this is tommy btw ]

[ i’m sorry ]

He certainly knows what happened. Does he think you’re dead? His last message is from two days ago, Maria sent you about a dozen messages a day, some are still coming in.

[ Are you okay? ]

[ Please text me back. ]

[ I’m gonna send Tommy over. ]

[ I wanted to tell you. I’m sorry. ]

Lot’s of apologies, you aren’t sure you forgive them. You text Maria back regardless.

[ can you send tommy to pick me up? ]

You don’t bother telling her where you are, you know she knows. She’s typing for quite some time based on the little bubble you stare at until you finally get a one word response.

[ Okay. ]

You don’t bother collecting your things, a mess of restraints and tools still scattered around the room, when the truck pulls up outside you grab your phone, for the first time since you left him in his room you hear noise from the end of the hall. As the door creaks open you rush to the door, not even bothering with your boots as you run out barefoot across the grass to the truck.

“Christ, you look like shit.” He jogs across the front of the hood to open your door, taking your hand as he helps you up and into the truck.

“Thanks, Tommy.” You grumble to yourself, you haven’t actually looked in a mirror in about a week and considering everything you probably do look a little unpleasant. He makes his way back around the truck, immediately defending himself as he gets back into the driver's seat.

“I’m just sayin’, could be worse. Maria and I were worried he might have-” Both your heads tilt up as you see Joel on the porch, holding up the stretched elastic of his barely held together pajama bottoms with one hand, a profound sadness in his eyes as he meets your gaze.

“I’d like to go home now.” You murmur, thankfully Tommy makes no effort to talk to his brother, simply putting the truck in reverse and pulling out of the driveway.

It’s painfully quiet.

He doesn’t turn on the radio as the two of you drive in the silence. A silence that remains until you’re pulling into the driveway that leads up to your camper. You’re tired, confused and not in the mood for conversation as you mumble a ‘thank you’ and open the door, before you can even get the door halfway open he reaches across you, pulling it shut.

“Wait.”

“Tommy-”

“I’m not gonna make excuses.” He gives you a look that can only be described as pure desperation so you take your hand off the handle.

“Fine.”

“I just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

You aren’t sure.

“I know how Joel is when he’s like that, he’s got no self control.”

“I’m okay, Tommy.” Are you?

“You can always call me, or Maria, if ya ever need anything.” He says it in earnest as you nod. “And don’t worry about… everything, Maria always recovers within a few hours.” He gestures with his hands and you nod once more. There’s a brief moment of silence until you open the door again, this time without any resistance. “If we don’t hear from you Maria’s gonna come knockin’ on your door.” He tries to lift the mood as he laughs halfheartedly, you muster up a smile as you turn towards him.

“Thanks, Tommy.” You whisper before closing the truck door, not looking back as you twist the door knob.

You take a long shower.

Standing under the scalding water until it runs cold. Tommy was right, you do look like shit. Your skin is bruised in several places, especially your waist, despite the lack of pain. There are dark bags under your eyes as you run your fingers across the skin, and your hair is an entirely separate problem, tangled with dried spit and other fluids in certain parts. It takes ages to comb through it all with your fingers, you’re hopelessly trying to wash yourself clean of his scent. No matter how hard you try you can’t seem to be rid of the scent of pine that lingers on your skin.

Eventually your fingers dip lower. You’re not sure what you’ll find but you’re genuinely surprised to find everything to be normal, you’re a little sore and tender in some spots but other than that you’re completely fine, once again Tommy was right. You step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around yourself before darting out into the kitchen, not bothering to change as you dial the name of the takeout place. You order a pizza, feeling absolutely famished as you search around for some clothes. You put a pair of thin pajama pants on, careful to not put too much pressure on your sore bits before grabbing Joel's shirt, pushing down the twinge of shame as you stare at the Fleetwood Mac logo in your mirror.

You can’t help it.

It isn’t your fault he’s so easy to want.

What had you been doing before you got distracted by Joel for…

You check your phone,

Six days.

Jesus.

You shake the feeling of horror off. You were trying to find justice for your aunt. You’ve got a bit until the pizza’s delivered so you sit at your table, plugging her laptop in and opening a random folder, desperate to think about something other than those five days.

Focus on Darlene.

Do right by her.

Sleeping with the guy that killed her probably wasn’t the best way to do that but you shake the thought off.

There’s more video files than you even know what to do with, as you flip through them you realize she was basically doing video diaries on a daily basis.

“Fuck.” You grumble to yourself. It’ll take literal months to get through everything. After a few more minutes of trying to sort things out you find a video that is specifically named, standing out in a crowd of default files. When you scroll further you find a few more, you sort them into a separate folder until you have five files in total.

Benni.mp4

Benita&Darlene.mp4

Eulogy.mp4

TrailCam18.mp4

JMiller.mp4

You stare at the list blankly before turning your gaze to the treeline outside. The sun is setting, Joel never came for you. You set the laptop on your bed, with trembling fingers you close the curtains around the camper before pouring yourself a glass of water. You take small sips, hoping the nerves that have plagued you all day might subside but you know they won’t.

The pizza gets delivered. You eat slowly, putting off your task until you can’t any longer.

Finally, when you can’t put it off anymore you go to your bed, sitting with your back to the wall as you open the first file. You’re mentally trying to recall how old Darlene was when she passed, the video is from nearly twelve years ago and you had thought she was significantly older, but the face you’re met with is startlingly similar to your own. There are a few glaring differences but she is no doubt related to you. Chewing your lip you press play.

Benni.mp4

The camera shakes as your aunt takes a few steps back, an unseen spectator holds the camera, Darlene pushes up her boxy thick rimmed glasses as she laughs.

“This, ladies and gentleman, is the new headquarters of the Mothman Maidens!” She takes a step to the side revealing the camper, brand new, with the for sale sign still on the window.

“When did we agree on that name?” The voice behind the camera speaks.

“You don’t like it?”

“Eh.” The camera shifts as the voice shrugs.

“Always so negative, bunny.”

“That’s even worse, I hate that.”

“But you’re my bunny!”

“Your Benni. You know I hate that bunny shit.”

“Same difference.”

“Oh stop, hold this, let me do it.” She passes the camera to Darlene and now you’re watching a woman with bright red dyed hair and warm brown skin take her place. “Why are we doing this again?” The camera shakes as Darlene continues to laugh.

“Because someday when we’re famous it’ll be good for us to have videos of our humble beginnings.”

“Clearly extremely humble.” She nods sarcastically before gesturing behind her. “I’m Benita Rivera and I’m joined by the incomparable Darlene Wilson in our newly purchased first home.”

“Monster hunting headquarters.” Benita ignores her entirely, grinning from ear to ear as she begins walking backwards towards the camper.

“My lovely lady here has insisted we move to the middle of nowhere so she can finally prove once and for all that she’s absolutely fucking bonkers.”

“Ha ha.” Darlene mumbles, lighthearted and sarcastic.

“Let me show you the rest, it’s way bigger on the inside.” With an exaggerated raise of her eyebrows she swings the door open, reaching for Darlene’s hand as she pulls her up into the camper, the familiar steps that you’re used to aren’t yet built. The camper looks extremely different. The interior is painted bright colors, the furniture is mostly metal and vinyl as they walk through the space, boxes scattered about the home until Darlene sets the camera on the counter to show off the two of them. Laughing as they dance around the kitchen.

And then the video cuts.

Benita&Darlene.mp4

The camera is being held by neither one of them now, an outside force films your aunt and Benita standing at what appears to be an informal wedding ceremony. Darlene dressed in navy blue dress pants with a clean white shirt standing across from Benita in a knee length eggshell sundress. Both of them grinning from ear to ear. You don’t recognize the man behind them who’s speaking, telling a story about the first time he met Darlene.

“I now pronounce you wife and wife.” With a small chuckle he takes a step back, Darlene and Benita holding each other close as they kiss each other, people off camera cheering as they walk back down the aisle with each other.

There’s a cut to the first dance.

The two of them spinning around the small room, arm in arm. Adoration in each of their eyes as they laugh, Darlene pulling her close for another kiss.

The rest of the video is spliced together clips of the wedding.

The rest of the guests dancing, a toast where Benita calls her “my darling Darlene.” The cutting of the cake, and many, many kisses between the happy couple.

And the video ends.

Eulogy.mp4

The vibes have changed significantly, the camera now appears to be set up on a tripod, Darlene sits alone at the table in the camper. Her eyes are rimmed with red and her hair is falling out of a chaotic mess of an updo. Some time has to have passed based on the grays that now decorate her scalp.

You have to check several times to make sure the video is playing, the screen seemingly frozen until she finally blinks.

“They wouldn’t let me attend the service.” She whispers, a hint of malice lingers on every word. “Said I’d just cause a scene.” Her jaw twitches as her expression of sorrow turns to rage. “I’m her wife. How could they not let me see her? They said it’d only upset me further, I know what that actually means, it means that that thing really did a number on her. They don’t want me connecting the dots.” She sniffles.

She takes a deep breath.

“Benita Isabella Wilson.” Her voice is already trembling. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I moved us here, and that you were involved in any of this. I don’t want to do this without you, yet here I am. Lost in the woods without my compass. I just don’t understand how this is fair. You were kind, you were good.” You watch as she gets more and more upset. “You didn’t even believe in any of this bullshit, you just wanted to be a part of my life. It should’ve been me, not you.”

She takes a deep breath, looking directly into the camera lens.

“I’ll find the thing that took you.”

The video ends.

TrailCam18.mp4

The footage is grainy and extremely dark. Poor quality night vision of the woods, you don’t recognize the area but how could you, it all looks the same when you’re out there. Nothing happens for quite some time, just motionless green until in the corner you see a flash of movement followed by a disheveled man running into view, taking center stage as he trips over a tree root. He lands face first in the dirt, he can’t be much older than you as he rolls over to sit up and stare at something that hasn’t yet come into view, shaking and screaming.

The trail camera doesn’t have audio and you’re forced to watch the slaughter in harrowing silence.

You know what’s coming but it makes your stomach churn regardless.

Joel.

In all his glory.

He has the appearance of a beast but even with the terrible camera quality you can see clear as day that it’s him.

Emerging from the trees, shoulder hunched forward as you watch the muscles of his neck twitch, knowing the tell tale sign of his snarl. His victim unfortunately can’t seem to find his footing, of course it wouldn’t matter if he did, he’d never outrun Joel.

Turns out knowing he’s killed and actually seeing it are very different things. You feel sick as he grabs the struggling man by the back of the neck, slamming him into a nearby tree until the spastic movement of his legs and arms stops completely.

You feel sick.

Your lip trembles as you watch him feast. Tearing into the split open flesh as you look away from the sheer brutality of it.

Thankfully the video cuts to Darlene sitting in the dark of the camper, the only light source appears to be coming from the laptop screen in front of her.

“I fucking knew it.” She lets out a harrowing squeal of laughter. “Joel fucking Miller.”

There’s a manic look in her eyes as she swallows.

“Joel Miller.” She repeats, sadder, this time.

The video ends.

JMiller.mp4

The video opens with a somehow worse looking Darlene setting up the camera seemingly above the fridge. She doesn’t bother brushing the tangles that fall in front of her face away, her hair now streaked with gray. She looks up at the camera, opening her mouth to speak but a knock at the door has her turning, immediately swinging it open to welcome Joel into her home. They exchange pleasantries like old friends as she pours him a mug of coffee and he sets down his toolbox. They talk for a few minutes before Darlene goes quiet, it’s barely noticeable but you catch the brief silence before she speaks once more.

“Where were you this past week?” She sips her coffee. “It’s not like you to not answer the phone.” He shrugs, leaning back against the counter.

“Contractor job out of state.” He responds with his usual seamless excuse as she nods.

“Really? I drove past your place and your work truck was still there.” With another sip of her coffee the energy in the video changes drastically. A tension bubbling up between the two of them.

“Tommy drove.” His answer is short and clipped as he sets his mug down behind him.

“I went to visit Maria and Tommy was there. With your little one.” The conversation has a blatant hostility to it now as they stare at each other, a pause before Joel speaks again.

“I meant to say I took Tommy’s truck.”

“Tommy’s truck was parked outside of the house.”

Silence.

Joel’s foot taps nervously on the tile as she stares at him, waiting for an answer.

“Where were you Joel?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Why not just say that instead of lying?”

“Why am I suddenly bein’ interrogated?”

“What was so important that you had to be gone for a week and leave your young child behind?” If her goal was to make him snap it works.

“I will not have my ability to parent her questioned.” It almost sounds like a snarl, looks like it too with how he straightens up. He realizes his mistake quickly though, pinching the bridge of his nose as Darlene doesn’t so much as flinch. “What’s this about?” His voice has softened significantly.

Her expression is conflicted

“I know what you did.” Is all she whispers as she turns to stare at him, the vibes going from upsetting to downright unbearable as you watch with bated breath.

“Darlene…” For a fleeting moment you think he might actually confess. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.

“Get out.”

“Please, I’m worried about you. You clearly aren’t in a good state of mind-”

“I want you to get out.”

The footage cuts to black.

You shut the laptop the second the video ends. The date had been a two weeks before Darlene died.

Joel killed Benita.

He probably killed Darlene.

You don’t want to move. You don’t want to do anything but you stand regardless, crawling into bed, clutching your phone in your hands.

You’ve got a few missed calls from Joel but no texts. You’re too tired and too upset to deal with him right now, you’ll take care of it in the morning. You know what you want and you’re going to get it.

No more lying and dancing around things.

You want answers and you aren’t taking no for an answer.

Your head hurts. All the time. Time moves too slowly and too quickly and you can’t ever really seem to find your footing after seeing the videos.

[ are you working? ]

[ everything okay? i can be there in ten ]

You don’t want to be alone with him. You’re worried you won’t be able to control yourself.

[ can we meet somewhere? ]

[ of course ] [ whatever you want to do ] [ i can pick you up after work ]

[ i’ll meet you there. see you at six. ]

You send him to the place and turn your phone off, your nausea lets up a bit, as if your body knows you’ll see him soon. The smell of him that wafts off of his shirt helps a bit but you’re still aching for him despite how badly you wish you weren’t. You roll back over in bed, still exhausted as you set an alarm for later tonight.

That’s how you end up in an empty Applebees.

Just you and two waitresses who you watch play on their phones as you sit in the dimly lit booth. Your leg bounces up and down wildly as your eyes dart to the door.

Joel fucking Miller. You ignore the way your heart skips a beat at the sight of him in jeans and his green jacket. His eyes light up when he sees you but immediately shift to shame when he sees your expression. Brushing past the waitress he quickly rushes over to you, sitting across from you in the booth.

He starts to speak but you silence him with a glare.

“Here’s how this is gonna work. I’m going to ask you some questions and you’re going to tell me the truth. You aren’t going to make shit up, or tell me I’m crazy, you’re just going to answer.” You look up at him expectantly, his expression is riddled with guilt as he nods.

“Okay-” He begins to start but you stop him once more.

“If you lie to me even once I swear to god I will leave and I will call the police. Are we understood?”

“Police aren’t gonna do anything…” He starts mumbling but the look on your face shuts him up. “I understand.”

“I want the truth. The whole truth, with no tricks or left out information, you’re going to tell me everything.” Your leg continues to bounce as one of the waitresses sets two waters down on the table, when she asks if she can get you something else to drink you both say no in unison. Watching as she scurries away.

“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. No more lies.” He reaches across the table, trying to hold your hand but you quickly pull away. The smell of him is strong enough as is, you don’t need to feel his skin on yours, it’ll make you too vulnerable.

“What are you?” Might as well start off with your most pressing questions. He chews his lip, as if he’s trying to figure out how to phrase it.

“I’ve looked for answers, never found a proper name for it, Tommy seems to think we’re something adjacent to a wendigo.” You’re floored by the blatant honesty, a part of you assumed he was going to make things up again but it’s nice to know he isn’t hiding it anymore. Like a weight has been lifted off of you.

“How long have you, you know, been like that.”

“My whole life. Hard to predict when I’d lash out, it wasn't until you started your cycle that I would have found a strict schedule.”

“Did you know who I was?”

“No. I just knew you were out there, that’s how it is for the males, it’s easier for the women.” Women? You hadn’t considered there were others outside of the Miller brothers.

“Is it just you and Tommy?”

“It’s genetic. My grandfather passed it to my mother, who passed it to Tommy and I.” He’s never spoken about his mother before but the way he scowls when he mentions her makes you want to avoid the subject.

“So Sarah…?”

“It’s always been easier for her, she’s got the temper for it.”

“When does she… transform?”

“Whenever she wants, she’s not linked to anyone else the way we are, if she ever really lost her temper she might pop but she’s more mellow than the rest of us. Better than my mother ever was.”

“Do you have control over it? Could you transform right now if you wanted to?”

“Probably, I’ve never tried to do it on purpose, it doesn’t exactly feel great.” The sound of his bones popping in and out of place rings in your ears as you shudder.

“So Sarah doesn’t ever do it?”

“She did when she was younger. Usually when I did she would too, just so she could stay with me. Once she became a teenager she stopped, I can’t remember the last time she changed.” He takes a sip of his water, clearly gauging your reaction to the onslaught of information he’s giving you.

“Do you all eat the same thing?” He sits up a little straighter when you ask.

“No. Sarah never hurt anyone, ever. I made sure of it. Tommy doesn’t hurt anyone either.”

But Joel does.

“How am I supposed to forgive you, Joel?” The cold professional tone you’ve been managing to hold up is slipping as you lean closer to him and whisper.

“Please-” He reaches for you again and you continue to move away.

“You killed Darlene.” You’re losing your composure quickly.

“I didn’t.”

“You killed her wife.”

“It was an accident.” He sounds like he’s in pain. Like the mere reminder of his actions is hurting him but you can’t stop.

“How many accidents have you had?”

With that he goes silent and you can’t help but assume the worst.

“It was less before you moved here.” He mumbles, the statement makes bile rise in your throat.

“So it’s my fault?” Your voice pitches up causing the waitress who’s headed in your direction to make a sharp turn in the other direction.

“That’s not what I’m saying.” He whispers, clearly trying to calm you down but it isn’t working in the slightest.

“It sure sounds like it is.”

“It used to be only one or two every cycle-”

“Only?” Your eyes are wide at the ruthlessness of the statement. “Is that supposed to make me feel better? That you only killed one or two people? Those people had families, they had lives.”

“You think that doesn’t bother me?” He’s starting to lose his nerve as well the silverware clinking as he slams his hand down on the table.

“Clearly it doesn’t since it was only one or two.” His anger doesn’t scare you anymore. You’ve seen him at his worst, nothing scares you anymore.

“Stop putting words in my mouth.” He begs, voice getting softer as you watch the waitresses staring at you from across the restaurant.

“I’m only repeating what you just said.” You hiss, trying to make your conversation look less confrontational. “What about Tommy? He only eats animals. Why can’t you just do that?.”

“I’m not Tommy.”

“Have you tried?”

“I can’t try anything, I’m not in control.”

“You listened to me, what if I told you to only eat animals?”

“You don’t want to see me eat.” Sure, it’s upsetting but you could learn to live with it. The image of the man he smashed against the tree flashes through your mind and you move on.

“What did you mean when you said you didn’t kill Darlene?”

“I- I couldn’t do it, couldn’t bring myself to hurt her. Tommy did it for me.” In a disturbing sort of way you almost find peace in that fact.

“I thought Tommy didn’t hurt people?” As your conversation quiets the two girls thankfully turn back to their phones.

“Only a few over the course of his life, mostly when he was younger or if a hiker was unfortunate enough to stumble across him when he was already feeding.”

You open your mouth to ask more questions only to realize you don’t have any more. At least not any you can think of in this state.

You thought this would take longer but he’s been open and honest and you don’t know where to go from here. You have your answers. Even if you don’t like them, now you’re in a weird state of limbo.

You stand up, unable to stand how stuffy it is in here, thick with his scent as you walk towards the door. He hurries after you, throwing a tip down on the table despite the two of you never ordering.

It’s cold but easier to breathe outside, he can’t fill the entire world with his smell and the breeze helps you think clearer as you stare at him hopelessly.

“So what do we do?” You finally ask, unable to avoid the inevitable.

“I’ll do whatever you decide, whatever you want.”

That’s the problem. You don’t know what you want, nothing makes sense and you hate him for what he’s done but as much as it bothers you you don’t want to lose him.

“I could leave, move back to the city.” You offer up, unsure of any other possible options.

“If your goal is to keep people from dying, that's the last thing you want to do.” There’s a beat as you glare at him, waiting for some sort of elaboration. “I’ll find you. Even if I don’t want to, the minute I lose control I will come after you and I seriously doubt that you want me running around a heavily populated area like that.”

Great.

“So I’ll stay and we’ll break up.”

“You really believe you’ll be able to stay away if I’m just down the street? You think I’ll be able to control myself when the time comes again? Now that I know your- your taste? I won’t stay away.”

“Fine, fine…” Your mind is desperately racing for some sort of conclusion to this nightmare. “Maybe we should invest in some sort of tranquilizer? We could keep you docile when you’re-”

“Tommy and I have already tried that, doesn’t matter. He shot me up with five doses of bear tranquilizer and I didn’t so much as yawn.”

“So I can’t move away, I can’t break up with you, and we can’t calm you down in the slightest. This is perfect Joel, what the fuck am I supposed to do? Let you keep killing people and pretend I don’t see the massacred state of every body that comes across my table?” A few stray tears start falling as you hastily wipe them away with your sleeve.

“You could kill me.” He mumbles as you scoff.

“Be serious.” You shoot him a glare but his expression doesn’t change.

“I am.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“Why not? No one else gets hurt, and you’re free to go.” He can’t seriously be suggesting this.

“What about Ellie?”

“I’ll talk to Tommy, he can take her.”

“Don’t.” You stand up straighter. trying to look stern as you scowl at him, unfortunately it ends up feeling more like a pout.

“What?” He looks tired too. Does being away from you cause him the same distress that you feel?

“Don’t talk about this like I’d ever seriously consider such a thing.”

“There aren’t any other options. You don’t want to be with me, what else are we supposed to do?”

“What about this last week? When I stayed with you you didn’t hurt anybody.” He fed on you, that much is clear now.

“You really want to do that every month for the rest of our lives? That lust filled state for five days straight with no end in sight? You barely survived one week of it.” He’s got a point but what are your other options?

“I was fine.”

“You barely ate, you were dehydrated.” He steps towards you but you don’t flinch this time.

“What if we just lock you up? With iron chains or something.” Your voice is dripping with despair now, there’s barely any fire left behind your words.

“If I don’t eat something I die.”

“There has to be another option.”

“You don’t want us to be together and we can’t be apart. I just don’t see any other ways for this to work.” He sighs, rubbing his temples as he stares at the pavement.

“I never said I didn’t want to be together.” You whisper and he immediately looks back up at you.

“Do you?”

You do.

“I don’t know.” You’re on the verge of tears again as you stare at him. Joel. Your Joel. Made for you and waiting for your decision Joel. Joel who was honest with you, so you should be honest with him. “Everything hurts without you and it hurts with you and I want to forgive you. I really believe that someday I could but not if you keep killing.”

He stares at you, never looking away, pity in his eyes.

“I love you.” He murmurs. It’s the last thing you need to hear right now.

“Don’t say that.”

“I do. And I know that that means less because I am genetically predisposed to unconditionally loving someone, and I’m sorry that it’s you.”

“Stop it. We barely even know each other. We’ve been dating for a few months.” You’re going to lose it completely if he doesn’t stop, your mind feels so fragile, if he isn’t careful you’ll shatter completely.

“I know that. And I love you.”

“Don’t do this.” You’re begging now but he refuses to let up.

“I’m sorry that you have to be loved by me.”

“Joel. Stop it.”

“And we both know why you won’t kill me.”

“I don’t need a reason to not want someone dead.” You wipe the endless stream of tears that now flow.

“Just say it, it’s easier to just say it.” He looks so soft right now. So harmless as he speaks with that low drawl.

“It’s not true.” You whisper, willing it not to be.

“You love me.” He says it like it’s some universal truth, it makes you want to slap him.

“I don’t, I’ve only known you a few months, and you’re a terrible boyfriend.”

“I could be a good boyfriend. If you let me. Let me try, let me earn your forgiveness, please.” He looks as upset as you feel now. His eyes, big and sad.

“You killed people. You’re going to keep killing people.” If you don’t remind yourself of that you’ll forget. Being near him will make you forget.

“Do you think that’s the life that I wanted for myself?” His voice cracks and when you don't respond he just keeps going. “I didn’t want someone to be forced to want me, I didn’t want to turn into a fucking monster once a month, and I never wanted anyone to get hurt!”

You both stare at each other for a beat of silence before you burst into sobs. It’s too much. Every single thing right now is just too much. What are you supposed to do now as you stare at him? A man who loves you, willing to do anything he can to make you happy, even if it means dying.

“Joel.” Your lip quivers as you stare at him, a suffocating despair clouding over both of you as he steps forward, his gaze softening as he pulls you into his arms.

“We’ll figure it out, bunny. I promise, we’ll be okay.”

It certainly doesn’t feel that way.

He takes your face in his hands, staring at you with an intensity you’ve grown accustomed to.

“Let me make this right. Please, bunny, just let me fix this for you.” He whispers, kissing your forehead.

You’re so tired.

You just don’t want anyone else to get hurt, Joel included.

You’re tired of being afraid. You’re tired of being confused. You’re tired of feeling like you’re crazy.

You've been tired since you moved here.

So you nod.

“Let me love you.” He mumbles as he wraps his arms around you again, both of you reflexively inhaling the scent of the other.

“Okay.”

want to know what monster joel looks like? you can find out here because there is now wonderful art of him -> monster!joel art

want updates on chapters? follow @lincolndjarinnotifs !!

#lincolndjarin #joel miller #tlou #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #tlou hbo #joel tlou #the last of us hbo #monster fucker #monster lover #monster romance #oh honey #fic : oh honey #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal

303 notes · View notes

jksprincess10 · 5 months

Text

Something in the shadows || 1. Awakening

Summary: When a girl is found by Ellie just outside of Jackson, covered in what seems to be scratches from a beast, the community realizes that the infected might not be the only monsters out there.

CWs: Dark!Joel, monster!Joel, werewolf!Joel, NOT an omegaverse fic, fated mates, DUBCON, murders, gore, dark and horror themes, overprotective!joel, explicit smut, FMC without a name and a physical description (it's you baby), unspecified age gap, no y/n.

(3600 wordS)

Dividers by @saradika

Fic masterlist

Notification blog

Divider by @saradika

“Are you fucking kidding me! Joel, Joel, come here!”

The girl’s yell tore the morning peace. She was going on her morning errands when a trail of blood, so clear on the white snow, lead her to an unconscious woman. She was just out of Jackson, so close to survival, yet so far. She saw from the shallow movements of her chest that she was still breathing, even though she was probably freezing, her face covered in a fresh coat of snow. Ellie knelt beside the unnamed woman and with the help of her warm glove, brushed away the snow from her face. Her lips were blue and trembling, and a deep scratch was formed on her face; the blood half dried already. Her features were soft besides the ugly cut.

“Come on old man, fucking hurry up!” Ellie yelled from the top of her lungs as Joel ran as fast as he could towards the clearing. While she waited for him, she peeled the superficial layers on her body to envelop the dying stranger. “Don’t worry, we got you.” She whispered to the woman, who was probably too far away in her mind to hear her.

Joel’s heavy boots crushed the snow as he ran as fast as his tired bones let him. His coat was barely on; an old leather jacket thrown over a green flannel before Ellie dragged him outside. He didn’t get much sleep, as usual. His jeans, like his bones, were worn, originally a dark blue that became whiter at the knees. His boots held together with tape and prayers, like his whole life.

When he got closer, he saw the crimson tainting the snow, like roses on a white bed. He thought that maybe it was already too late. But when he knelt beside Ellie and held a hand over the woman’s mouth, he felt her weak breathing. She wore the appropriate clothing to walk in the snow, but that wasn’t enough to last her through the night under the stars. When he searched her face for a sign of life, something akin to fear took over the tiredness of his gaze. It didn’t look human or like anything he had ever dealt with before.

Joel slid his arms around the injured woman’s body to get her up. She’s dead weight, but he would make it.

“Go back first Ellie, ask for help.”

The girl flew back to camp at his demand, trying to gather everyone and anyone that could help. Joel’s walk was heavy as he carried her back to safety. He passed the metal fence that separated Jackson from the rest of the cruel world, passed a few houses built by the community until he got to the makeshift hospital, where people already gathered under Ellie’s pleads for help.

A woman was already waiting for them, olive skin, dark hair, and full lips. She wore a handmade nurse uniform, even though uniforms didn’t really matter anymore.

Differentiating people mattered, though.

Discerning who could help you and who could kill you mattered.

Joel let her down on the bed. He heard the door close behind him, trapping the cold behind.

“My name is Amelia.” Said the nurse as she gathered her supplies. “Who is this?”

Ellie, who was there the whole time, responded. “We don’t know. I just found her outside of Jackson. Can you help her?!” Joel stood in the corner of the room, watching like a hawk. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t want to touch the woman again.

“I’ll do my best.” She assured, a reassuring smile on her lips. She seemed kind and perfect for her job, hiding behind lies and reassurances.

When the woman got undressed and put under blankets to warm her up rapidly, Joel looked away. He saw enough, between the wounds on her face and under her coat, that got torn in some places; like they were hit by giant claws. The thought made him shudder.

“She infected?” Joel asked as the nurse examined her when she was stable enough.

“There are no bite marks.” Amelia responded matter-of-factly. “Except those… scratch marks.”

He didn’t know why the thought consoled him. Ellie let out an exclamation of relief.

“We should let ‘er rest. C’mon, Ellie. Let’s go. We’ll tell my brother about her.”

Ellie knew better than to protest. Being in Joel’s life for as long as she was, she knew he was stubborn as a rock. And that she was still technically under his protection. He was the closest thing to a father she ever had, but she would never tell him that.

Tommy didn’t expect to see his brother so early. His baby in his arms, he opened the door and hushed him inside. Joel told Ellie that it would be better to talk “between adults” and sent her on some errands that they were supposed to do before they found the body.

“What’s goin’ on, brother?” Tommy asked in a low voice, worry tinting his expression. He was alone. Maria was probably resting.

“Ain’t gonna take much of your time. Just wanted to say that we found someone outside of the barrier. Injured pretty badly, with scratch marks, like she was attacked by a wolf or somethin’. She has no bitemarks. She was still alive and she’s with Amelia now. Was just wonderin’ what to do with her…”

“Hmmm. I see.” Tommy seemed pensive; his mind stuck on the scratch marks. Everything in Jackson was so peaceful before. He soothed his baby, rocking him slightly. “Let me visit her at the end of the day and see if she’s awake. We don’t have… much space left, though, and we want to prioritize families. You think you can take her in? Y’have an extra room.”

Joel’s blood ran cold at the suggestion. He was afraid to be close to her, and now she would possibly live with him. Tommy saw how he resisted the idea.

“She was found alone?”

“Yeah…”

“Think about it, yeah? I’ll catch ya later.”

Joel nodded and looked down at the baby for a brief instant; he still wasn’t sure how to act around his nephew. He wanted to love him and be happy for Tommy, truly, but Sarah’s loss still burned, like it didn’t happen 20 years ago, but yesterday. Sure, Ellie helped a little, but as she got older, he was scared she would leave him too. The signs were already there; she had found new friends, she was out all the time, she didn’t need him as much as she did before. He needed someone to need him, it was his whole life purpose.

Dinner set in front of them, Joel and Ellie ate in a comfortable silence. When Ellie finished her errands, she went to check on the mysterious girl, but she was still in a deep coma.

“What’s on your mind, old man?”

After approximately a year of traveling together and then living together, Ellie could decipher any change in the already grumpy man; like when his scowl deepened or when his fingers tapped nervously on every surface available. Joel cleared his throat and adjusted himself in his seat, the old chair creaking under the shift of his weight. He kept a mental note of that; he would have to fix it later.

“Told Tommy about the girl… If she wants to stay, we prioritize families, so…”

“So, she’d have to stay here?” Ellie suggested.

Joel nodded and got up to clear the emptied plates off the table.

“Can she stay here, please? We can’t leave her…” Ellie pleaded.

“We don’t take any strays.” He responded abruptly.

“You took me in. What’s another stray?” The girl shrugged in response. She knew she could pull on the right strings, and Joel would accept. Despite his harsh shell, Joel had a good heart. She saw it, when he took care of her, when he helped everyone around him without a word. “What are you scared of, Joel?”

Joel’s only response was silence, and the sound of water running down the sink. When it was full of soapy water, he plunged his hands in it, scrubbing the dishes with too much intensity. His hands were roughened by the age and his years of work. His fingers were thick, prominent veins decorated the back of his hand. His nails were short, sometimes blackened by the odd jobs he did for the community, but for now, they were clean.

He felt Ellie’s presence, the intensity of her pleading gaze burning a hole through his head. He let out a long sigh and set the dishes aside to dry, before turning around to look at his first stray. “Okay.” He simply said, not answering her questions.

What was he afraid of?

When he had taken her to the hospital, her body in his arms, he felt like she was burning him. He was afraid of…her. And in the back of his mind, he was afraid of what he could do to her.

Ellie was fast asleep in her room, while Joel relaxed in the living room. He was enjoying his usual drink; a dark, strong scotch produced in the community. It was the only way he could fall asleep. Even though when he did… he never felt rested. Maybe he sleepwalked? Although, Ellie would’ve told him. Still, something was going on. He didn’t remember having dreams or nightmares.

His lids closed slowly when he heard a knock at the door. He looked through the window, before opening, his brother on the porch. Tommy was the spitting image of their mother, the same dark hair, the same freckles. Joel thought that he inherited all the shitty genes in the family.

“She awake?” Joel asked, leaning against the door frame.

“No, but Amelia said she’s stable. But I’m gonna need your answer, Joel.”

Relief settled in his stomach. The girl would be fine.

“We’ll take her in. Would be cruel to kick her out.”

“Alright. I’ll see ya tomorrow at patrol.”

They punctuated their goodbyes with a manly and friendly slap on the shoulder. When the door closed behind Tommy, Joel climbed the stairs and fell into his bed.

A new routine took form in the next few days; Ellie would check on the girl in the mornings, and Joel in the evenings. During the day, they also gathered things their new roommate would need; like clothes and the essentials to decorate her room.

No signs of life, until a week later. Her fingers started moving, and her eyelids opened abruptly, like she was awakening from a violent nightmare. The first person she saw was the nice nurse, who took care of her day and night until her arrival. Amelia jumped to her side, so she wouldn’t get up too fast.

“You’re fine, you’re fine.” The nurse assured, and she believed her.

Amelia checked her vitals, everything seemed normal. “Do you remember what happened?” She asked as she busied herself with her work.

She tried to dig in the depths of her mind, but everything was a blur. The only word that came to mind was something that looked like a name. Her name. What happened? Where did she land? She had no idea.

“I don’t.” Her voice was quiet, scared. She looked down, she had a feeling the clothes weren’t hers; a hospital cotton gown covered her body. Her arms were wrapped in bandages, and she could vaguely feel something taped to her face, almost obstructing the view from her left eye.

“Do you remember your name?” Amelia asked in a soft voice, like she was trying to tame a savage animal.

The woman responded with her name.

“That’s a start.” She encouraged her, as she checked on her wounds.

“Am I hurt?” The patient asked, worrying her lip between her teeth.

“A few bad scratches, but you’re fine. You’re healing very well. You might get a few scars…” She sat on a stool next to the makeshift hospital bed. “It’s a miracle you’re alive. We found you out in the cold.”

Even with the nurse’s words, she didn’t remember anything. As she was talking, people entered the room. A tall man and a girl, probably in her teenage years.

“Ellie and Joel, she just woke up. It’s good you both came.”

The girl – Ellie looked happy to see her. Did she know her? She tried to smile to “Ellie”, like a friend would, soft, with barely any teeth. Ellie approached her with a big smile. The man stayed behind, big arms crossed on his chest.

“Hi! I’m the one who found you.”

“Oh… thank you.” That’s all she could say, really. So, she didn’t know them.

“Do you remember what attacked you?” The man – Joel – asked from his corner. His voice was rough, like the beard he wore.

“Attacked? No… I’m sorry, I don’t remember anything.”

“Don’t apologize, darlin’. I’m sure it’ll come back.” Joel looked at the nurse then. “She good to go?”

“Yes, she almost is.” Amelia crouched and took a fabric bag that contained new clothes, that she gave her. “Joel and Ellie brought this for you, I hope it fits.”

“C’mon Ellie, we’ll wait outside.”

After they had left the small hospital, the woman got up, her legs still numb from the lack of use. She undid her hospital gown, before shimmying on the dark jeans. She then slipped on the other piece of clothing – a thick, light blue wool shirt over her head. It was soft and comfortable. She zipped her boots and also grabbed a coat that was left for her.

“Thank you… ” She told the nurse, insure of what was next for her.

“No problem. Welcome to Jackson, honey. I hope you will like it here.”

She smiled, like she knew what Jackson was, then left. The man and the teenager were waiting for her outside. It seemed like she was in some sort of Christmas village – the houses were close together, there was snow on the ground and on the mountains in the distance. The trees were lit up with beautiful lights, keeping the village in view in the dark night. She couldn’t believe this place was real.

She heard the man clear her throat, then she turned to him, her cheeks heating up.

“So… we guessed you had nowhere to go. If you want, we have a guest room. ‘Til you figure things out.”

“Oh – thank you.” She responded, embarrassed. “I… you didn’t have to.” But in truth, where would she go? She didn’t remember how she ended up here.

“Come on! We love helping people, don’t we, Joel?” Ellie exclaimed as she hit Joel’s side with her elbow. “Oh by the way this is Joel, I’m Ellie. What’s your name?”

She gave them her name ; she had no reason not to. They walked, and she followed closely, still in awe as she observed the trees and the lights lighting up the road. They stopped in front of a house, it was beige with a wooden porch at the front. They entered and she followed, taking in her surroundings.

There was a fire still burning in the living room; like they knew they wouldn’t be gone for too long. The house was simply decorated, and it resembled a country home. She half expected to see farm animals at the back.

“I’ll show you your room.” Ellie offered, putting her arm around her waist. “And then, maybe we could get you something to eat.”

She flinched a bit at the touch, but she followed Ellie upstairs. The house was big, but not too much, to the point where it was still cozy. The old wood floors and the vintage décor really helped with the overall ambiance. Upstairs, there was four doors leading to four different rooms.

“This is Joel’s room, don’t go in there if you don’t want to get murdered.” Ellie explained, but in a humorous tone that hid any murderous intentions. “Bathroom, my room, then yours at the end of the hallway.”

“Thank you.”

“Take the time to get settled, and when you’re ready, you should eat something.”

She nodded in agreement. For what seemed to be a teenager, Ellie was very caring. She waited until she heard Ellie’s footsteps fading to open the door to what would be her bedroom. It was simply decorated; the walls were a yellowy beige, the double bed was covered with a beautiful quilt – mixed with floral fabrics and soft, pastel colors. The room also contained a dark-wooden shelf and a small wardrobe under a big window that brought in some natural light. She opened the drawers and discovered that they were already filled with essentials for every season – pants, t-shirts, cardigans, thick wool shirts, socks, and underwear. She felt her cheeks heating up at the thought of that man – Joel – finding underwear for her, before pushing the thought away. She also discovered some basic toiletries and a menstrual cup in a bottom drawer - taking the strange object between her fingers and squished it. She could guess what it was for – but from her distant memories, she could remember using cloth to contain the blood. She put it aside and let her hand trail against the pleasant grain of the wood, before going back downstairs, recounting what she remembered as she stepped down.

Her name.

Her menstruations.

The fact that the world had somehow stopped before she found herself here – an apocalypse, yeah, that was probably the right word.

She heard activity in the kitchen, so she followed the sound. Ellie was sat at the table and Joel was making a plate of leftovers – meat and some sort of purée.

“Ellie, you know, you could give the woman some space.” Joel sighed as she saw Ellie eyeing the girl she saved with curiosity. “Besides, you already had dinner. Go away.” There was no bite in his tone, but she obeyed with an elongated sigh, before wishing the woman she saved a good night.

She sat down at the table and gawked at the plate that Joel deposited in front of her – her stomach already growling in anticipation. Joel cleared his throat as he looked through the cupboards for a glass. “You want anything to drink? We have… water.”

“Water sounds good.” She tried to smile at him, but he didn’t return the attention as he left the glass in front of her and sat across from her at the table. “Thank you.”

Joel crossed his arms on his chest as she started eating. The food was so fresh, the meat melted on her tongue. She let out a sound that resembled a moan. “This is incredible.”

The man looked away, the tip of ears getting red. He readjusted his jeans that had suddenly gotten uncomfortable as he thought Come on Miller, keep it together.

“So, what’s this place?” She asked curiously between a few bites.

“We are in Jackson, Wyoming. It’s a secluded village where people are safe, away from the horrors out there. Do you… remember the apocalypse?”

“Well, that was long ago, was it? I was pretty young.”

“Oh.” She was much younger than him, then. She was probably a kid, while he was already a single dad. “Yeah, guess that makes sense.” Joel agreed as he scratched the back of his neck.

“Are you from here, Joel?” She asked, tasting the name on her tongue like she was tasting the meat he cooked.

“No. Was born and raised in Texas.”

“Hmm. So, this is where that accent comes from.” She said, her fork pointing in his direction. Talking to Joel was easier than she thought. She felt a pull towards him, she wanted to know him.

“Do you remember where you’re from?”

Complete silence as she searched her mind for answers, but they seemed so far out of reach. “No. Guess… we’ll figure it out.” She smiled through the sadness. “Is Ellie your daughter?”

“She’s… adopted.” He said simply. He would skip the long story for now, until he knew he could trust her. Even Ellie didn’t know the real story. “C’mon now, you should finish your meal and you may want to take a bath.”

“Oh no! Do I smell bad?” She asked innocently, as she attempted to subtly smell her own armpit. Joel chuckled softly and assured her that she didn’t. “Thank you for the meal, Joel.” She added as the man left the room.

After she left her, Joel climbed directly to his bedroom. Ellie’s door was closed – she was probably drawing or sleeping. He shut the door behind himself and got rid of his clothes to wear clean pajamas – grey loose pants and a black t-shirt. He sighed as he noticed that he was still half-hard. He sat on his bed to get rid of the problem, pulling down his bottoms and letting them rest under his heavy balls. At the thought of her, his body burned, begged for more. He wrapped his big hand around his girth and stroked slowly, careful not to make any noise. He got lost in his euphoria for a bit, before he heard some splashing sounds – maybe, maybe he should check on her and make sure she didn’t need anything. He didn’t let himself come, and pushed his cock back in place as he pulled up his pants to get out of his room.

The bathroom door was a little open. How could she be so… naïve. The beast clawed at him, it wanted to see, to feel. Maybe a little peek wouldn’t hurt. He hid against the wall, his eyes peeking inside the bathroom. Her body was laid in the tub, and her eyes were closed. He could get a glimpse of her breasts when she breathed. She looked almost asleep. The beast growled more, more, more. He pushed it away, deep inside of him, as he stroked his clothed cock. It wouldn’t take too long for him to come. And when he did and when she moved ; he disappeared fast in his room and locked the door, afraid of what he could do to her.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #something in the shadows #monster!joel #monster!joel miller #werewolf!joel miller #werewolf!joel #joel miller smut #joel miller story #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x yn #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x foc #joel miller x f!oc

146 notes · View notes

fettuccin-e · 8 months

Text

Something Bad

Kinktober Day 20: Corruption

Tags: Joel Miller x Reader, afab!fem!reader, blowjob, face-fucking (do NOT look at me rn), corruption, slightly innocent!reader, age gap mention, Joel is simply not prepared for how filthy his girl is (w/c: 1.4K)

A/N: I believe in filthy old man Joel and younger even filthier girl okay!!! This may have gotten a little out of hand but idk I can't help but ramble about sucking Joel's dick alright?? (I have been using these prompts by flightlessangelwings for Kinktober!)

Joel Miller is a bad man. A bad fuckin’ man.

He knows it, has known it for years. He has too much blood on his hands, too many skeletons in his closet, to be a good man.

But fuck, this has got to be the worst.

You’re supposed to be off-limits, the pretty little nurse that floats around Jackson, tending to the sick and injured. You, the sweet little thing who's never seen the outside of the town walls, who wears pretty dresses you make yourself and brings fucking baked goods to the patrol groups after they get back.

You, who asks him how he’s been, who traces a gentle hand down his forearm, sending goosebumps across his body. You, thirty fuckin’ years younger than him, and so angelic you practically glow.

You, on your knees on his kitchen floor, sucking his dick like you’re fucking starving for it.

You’d started off so delicate, so innocent, when he’d started this... thing with you. This dirty, nasty secret he has to keep from his own brother, from the entire town.

It had started with a gentle kiss when you’d patched him up after a patrol gone wrong. You’d fashioned a bandage over his chest, and God, when you looked up at him with those pretty doe eyes, he was a fuckin’ goner. He wasn’t sure who moved first, you or him, all he had known was that your lips against his were soft. So soft, softer than anything he’d experienced in twenty fucking years.

“Don’t know how to do this,” you’d breathed against his mouth, your fingers clutching into his shirt, “just know that I want you.”

Joel pulled back, looking down at you with a hard gaze, ready to pull back, tell you this was a mistake, “Darlin’-”

“I know you want me too, Joel,” you’d said, firmer than he’d ever thought you could be. “I just need-” you’d stuttered, and leaned your forehead against his as you collected yourself, “I just need you to teach me.”

It had spiraled from there.

He’d tried to be gentle with you, but fuck, it’s so hard when you’re so soft beneath him, whining his name and tangling your fingers in his hair. You’d been so nervous the first few times you’d done this, nervous enough that Joel had pulled back, night after night, just to make sure you were still alright with him seeing you like this.

“You can say no anytime you want, sweet girl,” he’d mutter, “I won’t mind.”

But you’d always shake your head, eager to learn, eager to please. And fuck, Joel can’t help it when he fucks his fingers into you a little too hard, treats you a little too rough. He’d a bad fuckin’ man, God, he shouldn’t even be near you.

When you’d both started this, you’d been quiet and uncertain about what you wanted, leaving Joel to ease it out of you with soft touches across your body and licks of his tongue into your mouth.

Now, though. Now Joel thinks he’s made a fuckin’ monster.

You crave him in ways he’d never thought you capable of, dragging him to your bedroom when he gets home and stripping him down before he’s had a chance to say hello. You beg him to fuck you, use you, anytime he wants.

“Need it Joel,” you’ll whisper, pulling him with you. “Fuck, I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

You don’t even make it to the bedroom today. No, you corner him while he’s making dinner for you both, turning him until his back is pressed against the counter. You look at him with those pretty, pretty eyes, warm and gorgeous and calling to him like a goddamn siren, as you sink to your knees.

“Sweetheart, you can’t-” he stutters over his words like a virgin, and all you do is look up at him as you unbutton his jeans, pull his fly open and free his cock. It’s fucking sinful, the way it looks huge next to your pretty little mouth, the way you press it against your cheek, looking up at him with all of the fucking innocence he’s taken from you.

“What Joel?” You coo, pressing gentle kisses up his shaft before sucking the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it for one horrible, maddening moment, before pulling back again. “You don’t want me to suck your cock?”

Joel is going to fucking die here, in this kitchen, if you keep talking like that, keep licking at his cock and looking at him like that from the floor. “Darlin’, fuck ‘course I want you, but fuck, not here. We can go to bed-”

“Too far,” you whine, and Joel doesn’t have a chance to fucking breathe before you’re sucking his cock into your mouth, bobbing down as far as you can before he hits the back of your throat, and motherfucking Christ, that’s it, he’s going to die.

You suck his cock like a goddamn pro, like you hadn’t just learned to do this a few months ago. And Joel should feel bad, he should feel some modicum of guilt for making this pretty, innocent nurse into such a filthy little thing, but he can’t bring himself to when it feels so good. So fucking hot and wet, and your fingers digging into his thighs over his jeans.

“God damn it, baby,” he grunts when you hollow your cheeks, making it that much tighter and his head is spinning, fuck, he must be losing it. You fucking smile around his cock, bobbing deeper, pumping the part of his cock that can’t fit in your mouth with a slick hand. “Suckin’ me so good, that’s so fuckin’ perfect, shit-”

His hips twitch uncontrollably, shoving his cock far, too far down your throat. You choke, pulling off of him immediately, pumping him in your hand as you gasp for breath. And Joel fears he’ll pass out when a line of spit connects the tip of his cock to your bottom lip. “Shit, sorry, sweetheart-” he grunts, but you only smile up at him, pumping him quick and so overwhelmingly perfect. Joel’s knees threaten to start shaking.

“You can fuck my mouth, Joel,” you say, blinking up at him slowly, sweetly. “I promise I don’t mind.”

Joel’s vision blurs at the edges, and he sucks in a labored breath through clenched teeth as you suck him into your mouth all over again. Your hands wrap around his wrists, tugging his hands into your hair, and fuck, how can Joel resist you? He’s never been able to, and damn it, he probably never will.

He curls his hands into your hair, pumping his hips up into your mouth as far as you can take him, before pulling out again. Fuck, what would people say if they knew Joel Miller had the little nurse, with the baked goods and kind smile, on her knees in his kitchen, fucking her mouth like she’s no more than a filthy fucking whore.

His cock throbs in your mouth as he drags his hips in and out, in and out. You make obscene, sinful fucking sounds, little whines when he pulls out, loud, wet sucking noises when he pushes back in. You just kneel and fucking take it, letting him pull your mouth onto his cock with his fist gripped in your hair.

From the corner of his eye, Joel can see your hand move, subtle and silent. He nearly chokes when that pretty, delicate hand disappears between your thighs, rubbing at your clit through your pants as Joel fucks into your mouth like a goddamn madman. The sight nearly makes him black out.

His orgasm rushes into him without warning, and he can barely choke out a rough, “Fuck, gonna cum-” before he’s shooting his cum down your throat. You moan around him like you love it, the vibrations reverberating up his fucking spine.

Joel Miller is a bad fuckin’ man, but he thinks this might be what heaven feels like. It's probably as close to heaven as he's gonna get.

When he finally releases his grip on your hair, you lean back, letting his sticky cock slip from your mouth, and Joel watches as you stick your tongue out, showing him that you swallowed every drop. Joel’s spent cock twitches between his thighs.

“Take your fuckin’ clothes off,” he mutters, dark and deep and every bit the bad man everyone thinks he is. “Right now.”

You smile softly, standing up off the floor and pressing yourself against him. “Why don’t we go to bed, Joel?” you murmur in his ear, and Joel growls.

He spins you both around until you’re bent over the counter, ass out for him.

“Too far,” he murmurs, and wrenches your pants down your thighs.

#joel and his giant dick will be the death of me #love him for that #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #tlou smut #tlou fic

3K notes · View notes

huntingingoodwill · 3 days

Text

aren’t you gonna tuck me in? (j.m.)

masterlist

pairing: brat!reader x joel miller

prompt: goodnight kiss

a/n: a lil sumn for @janaispunk’s 1.5k kisses challenge!!! with a bit of a grumpy x sunshine dynamic smirk smirk... congrats babes 💕

“You crazy old motherfucker!” Your screams were tinged with laughter as Joel slung you over his shoulder, carrying you out of the Tipsy Bison.

“Who’re you calling a crazy old motherfucker?” Joel grumbled, locking his arm tight around your thigh and kicking open the door as he pointedly ignored your friends’ whoops and whistles.

You blew them a kiss before they disappeared behind the swinging door, at which point you gestured to the desolate road Joel had carried you out onto.

“Don’t see any other crazy old motherfuckers around.”

The slice of light that fell upon the road from the open door reduced into nothingness as it swung shut, leaving you and Joel awash in blue moonlight.

“If I’m crazy, it’s only ‘cause you drove me to the brink-” He paused in exasperation, landing a smack to your thigh that prompted a delicious, ticklish pain to shoot up your leg, and peals of laughter to come falling out your mouth,“will you stop wiggling up there?”

“Sure thing.” The saccharine words dripped off your tongue before you halted your movements, muscles slackening as you draped your dead weight over his shoulder.

“Jesus,” He huffed, suddenly exhausted as he had to literally shoulder the burden of your lax body. “Y’know what, just get down.” He said, quickly lowering you to the ground.

“Joel Miller, you are quite the party pooper.” You chuckled, stumbling to your feet.

He had stormed into the Tipsy Bison, locking eyes with yours as he pushed past a crush of people, causing your lips to twist into a smirk and your heartbeat to quicken in time with the beat of the warbling song blasting from the jukebox. He had barely given you time to shoot off a sly remark before he tossed you over your shoulder and whisked you away, an act much more interesting to you than the drunken conversation you were enjoying with your friends.

“I did not poop any parties.” He said, watching you stifle a laugh as you walked beside him. “Maybe you don’t recall, but we’re on patrol together tomorrow, and I am not gonna play nurse to you when you’re hungover on a horse.”

When Tommy had first put the both of you on patrol together, he had thought his brother was pulling some sick joke. He probably was. You had taken a particular interest in Joel whenever you saw him around Jackson, never failing to deliberately bump into him and engage in some teasing that would render Tommy helpless with laughter as Joel stood on, unamused.

As much as Joel hated to admit it, and as much as he felt he really was being driven crazy on his patrols with you, he had almost come around to it.

The gleam of your smile in those dark forests as you told him corny jokes around a crackling fire. Like sunlight peeking out from behind a dark cloud.

He pushed the thought away. Maybe you really were driving him to the brink.

“Please,” you rolled your eyes, gait leisurely besides his focused march down the road, “I’ve been hungover on that horse before and you never had to baby me. I just think you hate fun.”

“I do not ‘hate fun’.” He said, his monotonous drawl sounding pretty fun-hating, “...But maybe you were having too much fun. ‘Specially with that boy of yours.”

He regretted letting the words slip as soon as he said them, but he couldn’t deny the flare of heat that simmered under his skin when he entered the bar to see you laughing your head off with one of the guys that always seemed to trail after you around Jackson.

“Oh. My. God.” You said, a thin sheen of dust rising around your boots as you screeched to a halt.

“What?” Joel said, heart pounding as he whipped his head around.

“You’re jealous!”

“I am not-“ Joel spluttered, heat blooming across his collar.

“I’m walking home with a green-eyed monster!” You grabbed him by the jaw, and Joel prayed you couldn’t feel the heat from his cheeks searing the pads of your fingers. You turned his head, prompting him to look in your eyes. He had to fight off the urge to melt against your touch under the intensity of your stare, his jaw clenching beneath your fingers.

“Nope. Not green. Still shit brown.” You said, killing the moment with a grin.

Joel shook you off, quickening his pace rather unsteadily as you continued to walk beside him.

“You’re obsessed with me. First, you’re carrying me out of the Tipsy Bison, and next, you’ll be carrying me over the threshold after our wedding." You laughed.

That made even more heat blossom in his cheeks, and he tried to push that image out of his mind as he cleared his throat, biting his tongue as he let you carry on.

“Don’t be too jealous, Joel.” You purred, slipping your arm through his, nuzzling up to him in a way that made blood roar in his ears, “That guy’s not really my type. I like older guys.” You placed extra emphasis on the last phrase, making Joel’s head swim.

After making him squirm under your gaze for a couple seconds, you burst into laughter.

“As mean as you look, you get flustered so easily. It’s adorable.” You said, punctuating the sentence with a coddling pout.

“I’m glad you think it’s funny.” Joel grumbled, eyes trained straight ahead.

“It’s hilarious.”

Your footsteps trailed off as the both of you arrived in front of his house, staring at its squat silhouette in the dark.

You turned to grin at him, Joel shooting a sideways glance at you, debating whether or not to take the bait.

“What?” He mumbled, taking the bait.

“Miller, you devil. You could’ve at least bought me a drink before bringing me back to your place.”

He rolled his eyes, walking up the porch steps as you trailed behind him.

“Your place is all the way on the other side of Jackson. So you can either sleep here tonight, or we’ll spend another hour walking around in the dark.” He said, opening the door.

“Excuses, excuses.” You clucked your tongue, shaking your head with false disapproval, "As much as I'd like that long, romantic, moonlit walk, I am getting a little sleepy. I'll stay the night."

He held the door open for you, gesturing for you to head inside, a motion that you simply returned with an expectant stare.

“What?” He said, trying not to shift under your gaze.

“Aren’t you gonna carry me over the threshold?”

“Get your ass in the damn house.”

Your laughter rang, clear as a bell, through the sparse rooms of his house as you kicked off your boots, flouncing up the stairs as if you were right at home.

He heard the sound of his shower turning on and the syrupy hum of your voice over the splash of water.

He reached for your shoes, overturned and muddied, before straightening them and placing them next to his. Staring at the both of them next to each other, your voice ringing in his ears as you sang a discordant melody in the shower, a flicker of strange emotion shot through him.

The realisation he wouldn’t mind picking up after you, putting your shoes next to his. They would have a place next to each other, where they belonged, whenever you came home.

The realisation that he wouldn’t mind if your voice filled up every room in the house, where once he thought he was content with silence.

As he poured a glass of water for you and began carrying it up to his bedroom, he realised he wouldn’t mind bringing up a glass of water for you every night, and a cup of coffee every morning.

“I’m going insane.” He muttered to himself, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes.

“You decent?” He called out, knocking on his bedroom door.

“Hardly ever. Come in!” You sang.

The scent of his soap hung in the air, clinging to your skin. You grinned at him, a soft glow haloing you from his bedside lamp as you towelled water out of your hair, one of his flannels hanging off your frame.

“Is that mine?” He swallowed, the words flying out of his mouth so quickly they almost sounded accusatory.

“Yeah.” You turned to look at his furrowed brow. “What? I can give it back to you if you want.” You said, beginning to unbutton it.

He averted his eyes, that familiar heat shooting under his skin again. “Jesus- just- you can keep it on.”

You burst into laughter as Joel rubbed the back of his heated neck.

“You can sleep in my bed tonight. I’ll sleep on the couch.” He mumbled.

“Thank you, Joel.” You whispered, your sincerely grateful, soft voice sending his walls tumbling down.

He cut his eyes at you one more time, a vision in his worn, old flannel, before making a move to leave.

You cleared your throat, the noise exaggeratedly loud in the quiet room. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

He looked at you, his deep brown eyes wide in confusion, a furrow set in his brow.

“Aren’t you gonna tuck me in?”

His cheeks reddened as he stared at you, swallowing thickly.

Hiding his trepidation behind an exasperated eye roll, he crossed the room. His hand, the skin rough in contrast to the soft blanket, pulled the fabric over your body, covering you. You smiled up at him, that evil glint in your eye that drove him crazy shining up at him.

“Goodnight kiss?” You whispered with feigned innocence, glancing up at him through thick lashes.

“Christ.” He whispered, heartbeat pounding in his ears, his heart somewhere between wanting, annoyance and restraint.

“Please?” You whispered, lips turning up at the corners into the sweetest smile he’d ever seen.

He felt his resolve crumble to pieces, and he couldn’t resist. He leaned in, heartbeat kicking in his chest as he pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek.

He felt dizzy as he felt your hot breath against his ear, the soft skin of your cheek nuzzling into the scruff on his cheek.

“Oh, c’mon,” you whispered, lips ghosting his cheek, “you can do better than that, can’t you?”

He melted against your touch, barely able to formulate a smart retort before he felt your teeth digging into his cheek.

“Jesus!” He recoiled, the bite radiating with a dull pain.

“That’s for pooping my party, Miller.” Laughter bubbled from your lips as you watched him run his fingers over the grooves your teeth left in his skin.

“You’re fucking crazy.” His wounded tone just made you even more amused, your smile growing on your face.

“Don’t sulk.” You pouted, hand reaching up to skim a thumb across his cheek, and he couldn’t help leaning into your touch. “Let me kiss it better.”

He let you press a kiss to the quickly fading bite mark, his head swimming as your tongue darted out, giving him a playful lick before you laughed against his skin, breath fanning out over his cheek.

He turned his head, forehead pressed against yours as his nose brushed yours, his eyes screwed shut.

“You’re driving me crazy.” He mumbled.

“I know.”

He pressed his lips to yours, that strange, floaty feeling he had felt downstairs washing over him. You held him close, fingers entangling in the soft curls at the nape of his neck as you pulled him onto the bed.

Lying on his back, he let you press your palms against his shoulders. He stared at the ceiling, feeling barely there, as if he could have just slipped away, your hands the only thing pinning him to earth. He felt it with every kiss you pressed to his lips, when your lips ghosted the line of his jaw, his neck. You were everywhere, and he wanted to keep it that way.

“All better?” You said, voice barely audible over the roar of blood in his ears.

“Yes.”

“Y’know,” you whispered, tracing the line of his jaw with your lips, “I just realised something.“ You looked down at him, the smile that meant trouble returning to your face. “We have a really early morning tomorrow. Goodnight, Joel!”

Just like that, you had rolled off of him and turned off the light, plunging the both of you into darkness. He laid there, barely registering what had just happened, his body already missing your warmth.

He turned to look at you, your face slackened with sleep as your breath evened out, completely calm in the embrace of sleep as his heart still pounded in his chest, giddy as he turned back to stare at the ceiling.

He was definitely going crazy.

#joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagines #joel miller the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro x reader #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedrostories #pedro pascal

558 notes · View notes

misspearly1 · 2 years

Text

Chp1 || Chp2 || Chp3 || Chp4 || Chp5 || Chp6 || Chp7 || Chp8 || Chp9 ||

Pairing: WereWolf!Joel Miller x You (Female Reader)

Summary: Looking back on how your life has turned out this far, you often wonder if you got more than you bargained for when finally finding your safe haven within the walls of Jackson. They have it all; food, shelter and electricity, but what else did you come to discover that lives within this thriving community? And how did that discovery change your life?

WC: 4.3k

Warnings: 18+ Content. Minors DNI. Graphic Themes to begin with. Reader is being chased by bandits, has a near death experience. Angsty tensions. Joel is an asshole. Mythical themes. Mentions of Wolves. If I have missed anything in the warnings, please call it out for me my loves.

AN: Okay sweethearts, it's finally here. I would say this is more of an introduction to the werewolf story for Joel, next chapter is already in progress. Snippet is here if you'd like to jog your memories, my darlings. Forgive me for the quality of the images above, and they do not belong to me, but I promise to make the next image better. Thank you so much for being patient with me, and I hope you enjoy the story so far. ❤️

If someone were to ask you today in this very moment about what, when or where exactly that you knew your life had changed, your honest answer would have to be October 15th, 2034. The night you were chased through a dark forest.

The night where you really feared for your life…

Twenty years into the Cordyceps Virus where the dead no longer stay dead, your life currently depends on one thing and one thing only - fear.

Fear is what’s carrying your feet along the ground as you run with everything you’ve got. Fear courses through your veins like adrenaline, willing you on further than the enemy behind you. Your chest may be burning with each panic stricken breath and your feet may hurt from each pounding footstep against the terrain below, but over the sounds of your erratic heart beating in your ears were the sounds of the killers hot on your heels, hooting as they hunted you like prey.

Each time a whimper would slip by your lips, they would snicker as if they were mocking your terrified state. Finding sanctuary is the reason you're out here to begin with. You were seeking the place they call Jackson, a community said to have food and shelter, but now your only goal is to run faster, to beat the pursuers in the dark like your life depends on it - because your life does depend on it.

Only the rays of light from the pearly white moon above penetrating through the canopy of bushy trees provided guidance in your escape. You could barely see through the layer of fog that hung in the air in front of you, the low visibility clouded your sense of direction, leaving sound as your only form of aid. Hearing the men's footsteps told you how close they were. It told you how small that gap is between you and them, and that it’s slowly closing. You’re slowing down.

Running for God knows how long now, you worry that exhaustion is outweighing the fear, and in order to run faster than them, you need to lighten your load. Your backpack bouncing up and down on your back was the first thing that sprung to mind and it was a literal weight lifted off your shoulders as you dropped it. You felt considerably lighter now and picked up your pace, running a little faster than what they were, although they still pursued.

Focusing your attention on a beam of light up ahead, you figured it was a clearing in the trees, a big open patch of land for the moonlight to hit and you headed for that to see which way you needed to go to rid yourself of the merciless men behind you. However, just before you could reach the treeline, something wrapped itself around your ankles, causing you to tumble forward and land face down in the dirt with a heavy thump.

Slowing the momentum you had worked so hard to build, you quickly pulled yourself up as there was literally no time to waste and tried to free yourself from the confines of what appears to be a bolas. You’ve only ever seen these in western movies, never in real life and they were wrapped tightly around your legs. Too tightly for you to untie them quick enough as four shadows emerged from the fog.

The men chasing you - who were still snickering - approached slowly, tauntingly slowly as if they’re savouring every moment until they grab you and claim their victory. You aren’t ashamed to say that you’re too afraid to face your death, because in this moment right here, you know you’re going to die. Heart still beating out of your chest, your lip quivered when you saw the shiny glint of metal reflecting off the moonlight above. It was a blood covered machete, and it was for you.

Tilting your face to the side and screwing your eyes shut when the man raised his weapon, you whimpered while waiting for the strike that never came. The strike that should have ended your life in the forest, but instead, only a growl filled the air. A low and guttural growl which was quickly followed by the screams of one of the men being torn apart. The sounds were mere inches away from your feet and hearing an animal tearing into flesh made you gag.

Still keeping your eyes screwed shut, you couldn't bring yourself to look and dragged yourself along the ground into that clearing in the forest. Whatever that animal is, you don’t want to be around when it’s done with your attackers. You need to get the bolas off your ankles now. They were still screaming and trying to run away but the beast was quick, far too quick for it to be a bear or a wildcat, it literally lifted up branches and mud from the ground as it hunted them instead of you.

Focus! You yell inside, using your fear once again to prolong your life a little more. Hands shaking as you unravelled the rope around your feet, your whole body stiffened when hearing it growl again. Not only did you hear it this time, but you felt it too. You felt the vibration of it in the ground and the breath huffing against your back. It was behind you.

Not moving an inch as it sniffed your hair, you jolted slightly when feeling a cold wet sensation on your neck. A snout. A cold and wet snout was sniffing your skin before it suddenly moved away. Still not moving, you didn’t want to alarm the animal and prayed that it would just go away. A stupid whim of hope, what animal would just leave another meal untouched?

Thinking that your life is over once again, you saw your backpack being rolled along the ground on your right side and confusion now filled your state of mind. Tilting your head to look, your heart dropped to your stomach when coming face to face with a wolf. An actual wolf that was three times the size of you. With deadly looking paws the size of your hands and midnight fur dripping with blood, its red stained canines were as long as your fingers and its soul penetrating hazel brown eyes were glowing. Actually glowing.

Those eyes would be forever burned in your memory. And they were the last thing you saw before everything faded to black.

A white beam of light is the next thing you saw and it was shining brightly through your eyelids, outlining your veins and bringing you out of the state of unconsciousness. First it was the light, then it was the tingling in the tips of your fingers and toes, and lastly, it was the voices. The soft hum of deep voices penetrating your ears brings you out of your slumber but you don't open your eyes. Not just yet. You focused on their voices first, on what they were saying. Obviously talking about you and your current wellbeing, you wondered where you are and who they are.

The sensation beneath your body felt soft and plump, giving you the assumption that it was a bed. A rather comfy bed in fact. The blanket laid over your body was made of a thin scratchy material, tempting you to lift a hand and scratch your skin, but you didn’t give in to that urge just yet, not until you can figure out who these people are and what their intentions are with you considering you can also feel cold metal binds around your wrists. You’re handcuffed to the bed and you suspect that they’re your captors. However, before you could think any further, the sounds of their footsteps exiting the room and a door closing paused your investigations. Not that you could do much pretending to be asleep anyways, but maybe now that they’re gone and it’s safe, you can finally open your eyes and take in your surroundings, to map out means to escape. It has to be the men chasing you last night. Who else could it possibly be?

Turns out that bright light was a lightbulb directly above your head and it was still shining too bright, causing you to blink a couple times to adjust to it. The walls were blurry and bleak as you used your eyes to look around, but in the corner you could see a tall and bulky object. Lifting your head and focusing your vision, that ‘object’ was in fact a person, and he was staring directly at you.

This man was tall and muscular, leaning against the wall with one foot perched over the other wearing a checked shirt and dark coloured pants. Dark brown hair and greying sideburns with a beard matching the colour are the features you took note of and how he looked at you. It was either disappointment or concern, you couldn’t tell from this far away as your vision was still blurry.

After noticing that you were awake and were looking at him, he opened a door to his right and whispered to someone. That man then left the room and another entered. He had blonde hair and it was longer than the other guy's, reaching his shoulder in length. “Don’t be afraid.” He says, approaching slowly like you were the crazy one. They’re the ones who put handcuffs on you!

The closer he came into view, the more his facial features were detailed, which gave you a good look of your captor. Also sporting a greying beard, this man had soft grey eyes, visible signs of aging and a warm smile. The fact he was even trying to come across as friendly was disgusting. He took a seat by your bedside and leaned back to continue his speech. “My name is Tommy Miller, do you remember yours?”

I do, but I’m not telling you. You didn’t answer him, only convey how untrustworthy you felt of him with your eyes, yet he still held up with the friendly act as he reassures again. “Please don’t be afraid, here in Jackson we mean no harm to outsiders unless they’re a threa-”

“I’m in Jackson?” You cut him off with a question of your own. Leaning up with intrigue to know if you are where he says you are, but the clinking sounds of metal reminded you of the shackles around your wrists and you shook them vigorously to emphasize your next point to the man. “If you really mean no harm and I am in Jackson, I’ll tell you whatever you want, but you gotta untie me.”

“You won’t attack me again and scream bloody murder?” He retorts, leaning forward in his chair with the keys to your freedom in hand, but your brows furrowed with what exactly he meant about you attacking him.

“I won’t.” You nod and wait as he unlocked the handcuffs. You don’t remember attacking him and screaming bloody murder at all, the last thing you remember is the… The wolf. How did I forget that? Of all the deadly things that have happened in the last twenty four hours, how on earth did I forget about the wolf?! Is that why I attacked him? You wonder while looking in the man's eyes. You’ve already forgotten his name and had to ask again.

“Tommy Miller.” He confirms. His eyes now show hesitancy to trust you as he pockets the only thing that kept you attached to the bed. Leaning back into his chair and taking a chance on you, he jerks his chin outwards for you to hold up your side of the deal.

“Y/N, my name is Y/N.” You finally answer his original question, rubbing the red lines around your wrists. “What happened when you found me? I don’t remember anything.”

“My brother found you while doing his night watch shift around the perimeter. You were laying in the grass, passed out.” Your eyes narrowed with that, either Tommy is lying to you, or his brother was lying to him because you passed out somewhere deep in the forest, certainly not outside the gates of the very community you were searching for to begin with. “Look, it sounds unbelievable to me too.” The man defends himself from your reaction, holding his hands up. “I watched my brother leave for his shift and not even ten minutes go by before he’s calling it in for us. Are you sure you don’t remember anything? Could someone have possibly… dropped you off or something?” Tommy chuckles humourlessly, like he couldn’t even believe the words leaving his mouth as much as you were hearing them, but you had one thing in mind that could have brought you here.

“The wolf.” You mutter quietly, and too quietly for Tommy to hear, causing him to ask you to repeat it. You had to be careful with your answer. What happens to the newbie who claims that a wolf dropped them off near the wall? Would you be dubbed as the crazy new girl? Or would they turn you away, refusing entry to a safe haven from the world outside? Opening your mouth to say something about the men chasing you instead, the door opens and a man enters before the words could spill past your lips. And that man was the same one who was standing here earlier. You just know it is, he took the same position as before. In the corner, leaning against the wall with one foot perched over the other.

Sensing your discomfort by another man in the room, Tommy holds a hand out and reassures. “This is my brother, Joel. The one who found you.” He turns to his brother then, looking for help. “Tell her what happened, maybe she might remember something.”

Looking over to Joel, you took notice of how he held himself. Thumb hooked in the waistband of his jeans with his gaze low, he avoided making eye contact with you as he shrugged to his brother. “I left for my night watch like usual. It was near midnight-” That detail piques an interest with you, but you don’t why yet and continue to listen. “I didn’t even make it to the forest before I found you laying in the grass. You were covered in mud, like someone dragged you there.” The fact that he referenced the forest also piques your interest and this time you act on that interest by asking. “How far away was the forest from where you found me?”

“Not far at all, pretty much on the edge.” Tommy interjects. He too finds interest in that small, but seemingly important detail. “Why does the forest matter?”

“Because four men chased me through there last night and it was around midnight-” You look at Joel briefly when saying that before turning to Tommy again. “They threw a bolas around my ankles and were about to kill me, but something out there killed them first. I passed out before I could see what it was and I was alone when I passed out. No one could have dragged me anywhere.”

“Are you sure about being alone? What if you’re working with bandits?” Joel asks, his voice husky and deep. It almost felt as if it vibrated off the walls in the room, however your attention was directed by anger. His crazy accusation is what angered you. Neither he or Tommy actually knew how you ended up outside their community, but Joel had the fucking audacity to accuse you of working with the same people who had you fearing for your life. “Did you even bother to look in the forest?” You gave in to the anger and argued, feeling attacked by his questioning. “You were out there, didn’t you hear a fucking wild animal tearing people apart! There’s bodies out there and my backpack too.”

“I didn’t hear anything.” The man replies, matching your argumentative tone. “And yes, we looked in the forest. A group went out there this mornin’ and they found nothin’. Your story doesn't add up, girl.”

“Alright-alright, that’s enough.” Tommy held a hand in the air to stop the arguing. He looked over his shoulder and ordered Joel to leave, who said ‘my pleasure’ on his way out the door. “Don’t mind him.” Tommy shakes his head, looking back to you now. “The bandits are frequent around here and they’re getting smarter with new ways to breach our walls, but I believe you, Y/N.”

“Oh, you do. That's great.” You reply sarcastically. Lowering your gaze upon feeling the tears welling up in the corners of your eyes, you didn't want to show your weakness to the man. It was angry tears. Angry tears because you couldn’t defend yourself last night, just like you couldn’t defend yourself just now when arguing with his piece of shit brother. “I do believe you.” Tommy repeats his statement. “But there’s either something you’re not telling us or it’s gaps in your memory.”

“What if it was a wolf out there that killed those men? Would you believe that?” Still talking sarcastically while you looked up at Tommy with that, you watched as the man nodded - seriously, and it was not the reaction you were expecting. “Wolves, mountain lions and grizzly bears are all common around here. It’s plausible that a wolf could have killed those men last night.” Tommy says, shrugging his shoulders.

Of course. You sigh, shaking your head as you look away from him. Of course wolves are common here, but are really big, mean looking mythical looking wolves common here too? One’s that are only real in fiction, folklore and scary tales that you read around a campfire? No, Tommy would not believe that could be what killed those men last night, and if you shared exactly what it was that you saw, then they’d definitely think you're crazy, which right now is something that you certainly don’t need with Joel’s accusation hanging above your head.

“What happens now?” You ask with low hopes. Thinking about how just twenty four hours ago, you were excited about closing in on the location of the Jackson community before being spotted by a group of bandits and taking chase. You still seek safe haven. That community with food and shelter, providing protection from the outside world, but at this very moment, that seems like a dream.

“My wife will come say hello.” Tommy sighs heavily, rubbing a hand over his tired sunken eyes. “Maria runs this place and she’ll show you around, lay down the ground rules of how we run things around here and then-” The man shrugged with a lazy smile. “-then she’ll take you to your home.”

“W-what, just like that? What about what your brother said?” You couldn’t believe it. You expected them to kick you out over Joel’s bogus claims about you, or keep you in holding until they find out the truth - which given the fact it is a wolf, they never will.

“I told you, don’t mind him. He’s just grilling you for answers.” Tommy chuckles. A real chuckle this time with a proper smile. It was genuine and compassionate. “Joel always expects the worst in people. It’s just the way he is these days. I’m sure you understand considering the way people are out there.”

Nodding to the man, you did understand to some extent but it didn’t, under any circumstance, permit his brother to treat you the way he did. Especially in contrast to the way Tommy was treating you. Although he too was sceptical of your story and how you got here, his approach was a lot more comforting compared to Joel's. You live in this world with people who are untrustworthy too, but you’re not mean when it’s uncalled for and you show compassion where it’s necessary.

Hopefully, wherever this new life in Jackson takes you, there will be less Joel and more happy, safe and carefree living. All you want is to lay your head down at night without the need to keep one eye open. Your last home succumbed to the effects of the Cordyceps Virus. Overrun by infected, it’s now just a home of dusty spores, but your new home awaits.

Exiting the room that Tommy held you in, you followed him through the hallway, out the main door and into the main street of Jackson, where your mouth dropped with surprise. There was so much to take in that Tommy gave you a second to admire it all as you stood in a daze. Electricity was the first thing you took note of. Initially, you assumed there was a generator providing the light above your head in the clinic, but apparently not. Jackson has a running source of electricity, the whole town was lit up as if it were a bustling city. And the people acted like it too.

There were at least a hundred residents out on the street, going about their normal business, visiting all the stores that are actually available here, which was a bakery, a butchers, a workshop and a restaurant of some sort named ‘The Jackson BBQ’. Hell, they even had a pub too. A little ways up the road, you could see a group of kids - innocent, happy little kids playing like the world hasn’t gone to shit beyond the walls. And looking down the other end of the street, you could see a pen for cows as well as the stables for the horses situated at the main gates. You were standing in the centre of Jackson, seeing their town with your own eyes and how they were thriving, which you never thought was possible.

Yet it was possible, and it was now your town too.

*Knock Knock Knock*

Turning your head swiftly towards the door, cold droplets of water rolled off the ends of your wet hair and down your arm, eliciting a shiver to run through your body. Who is it? You wonder. It can only be Maria or Tommy, but why would they come here after leaving you earlier so that you can settle in? You’ve just had a shower - a rather hot shower - and you’re wearing a robe, so answering the door at this late hour when you’re not expecting company is startling and uncomfortable.

But what if it’s an emergency?

Hesitantly pulling yourself up off the sofa in your lounge, you walked over to the front door and reached for the door handle, but jolted with shock when the person on the other side knocked again. Get it together Y/N, just relax. You tell yourself before reaching for the handle again and opening the door. It was Tommy standing there with an apologetic look on his face, probably for disturbing you, but your brows pulled together in question of why he was here, until you saw why. The man had your backpack at your side. Or rather, what was left of your backpack.

“You were right.” He mutters and your gaze darts up to meet him with widened eyes. “About those men chasing you? You were right, we found the bodies.” Thank God. Releasing a relieved sigh upon hearing that, you looked down to your current attire and then back to Tommy. “Give me one second to get changed.”

After he nodded, you closed the door and raced upstairs to get properly dressed before yelling at him to enter as you made your way back downstairs. When Tommy opened your door, your eyes lowered to your backpack again, but now with the light shining directly on the item, you felt a pang of dread and anxiety in the pit of your stomach. It was shredded, damn near torn to pieces and covered in blood and dirt. The only way you can identify that it’s your backpack is because of the badges you sowed on there yourself. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” Tommy’s voice penetrates your mind, pulling your attention away from your thoughts as you look up at him again. “If this is a bad time, we can deal with it in the morning.”

“No. I’m okay.” Holding your hand out and stopping him from leaving, you shook your head. “I’d like to know what you have to tell me.”

You gestured for him to follow you into the lounge, and although you’re feeling anxious talking about what you went through again, you want to know if he has any answers as to what happened after you passed out in the forest. You want evidence to reassure yourself that you did in fact see a wolf out there. That you’re not crazy.

Sitting on the sofa with Tommy perched on the other end, he laid your backpack down on the table and began. “Our men were made aware of your story about the bandits in case they’re still out there and they uh..” Tommy clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “They found a trail out by the forest. A trail of pawprints in the mud, then some torn clothing, some blood and… and finally the bodies.” Remaining silent, you nodded for him to continue and deliver the news that you’re hoping for. “You were right, Y/N. It was wolves.”

“Wolves?” You ask, raising your brows with surprise. “I only saw one out there before passing out.” And it wasn’t a normal wolf either. You thought, but didn’t admit as Tommy nodded. He went on to explain how his men followed the trail and stumbled across a wolf den. There were five of them in total and inside their den were the human remains of the men chasing you last night. “We’ve dealt with them, but we found your backpack amongst the remains.” He says, pointing to the item laying on your table. “I just thought you’d like to know that your story checks out, but I’m sorry, I can’t give you an answer as to how you ended up outside our gates.” Oh, I have an idea what brought me here, I can remember something.

It was a human. A human that can turn into a wolf - and they're here in Jackson.

Next Chapter

184 notes · View notes