#raider joel

[joelsgreys]

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🤍

[toxicanonymity]

Bodies.

7.8k, raider!Joel x f!reader

reader has no physical description, pics are for mood

raider master | playlists: raider, sweet pea (smut) SUMMARY: Uninvited guests make a nice evening devolve into disaster, but when they're gone, Joel takes a big step 💋 A/N: follows Hunger. Ty to this ask about flirting; arm anon; @gracieispunk for the B/W pic; @xdaddysprincessxx, @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog, and others who've discussed his name, @javier-penas-wifexx420 for asks, @milla-frenchy for listening, everyone for your patience and support. @toxicfics for notifications, @toxicrecs for fic recs. WARNINGS: I8+ canon typical violence, tension, possessive/aggressive reader, angst, self-harm scare, references to skin carving scars, hurt/comfort, Joel is a little grumpy, exhibitionism, grinding, dacryphilia, leather choker, bj with ball sucking, unsafe P in V, creampie, obsessive unhealthy toxic dynamic, Joel can hold reader, reader can hang onto Joel.

Raider POV of smut.

The dog has stuck around for more than 24 hours now. He's a good dog. He’s working on a duck foot while you, Joel, and Carter eat by the fire. The evening air is cool but mild. The sky is clear. 

Joel and his men spent most of the day working on the van and looking for parts.  The dog sat with you while you read a book. You made a wildflower crown and put it around the dog’s neck. When one of the men walked in your direction on his way to the woods, the dog jumped in front of you and growled. Joel looked impressed. 

-

Now the fire is keeping you toasty as the sky fades from blue to black. 

“Tommy!” you call out to the dog to see if he reacts. 

Carter chokes on his food, but quickly recovers. His eyes are wide.

“What’d you say?” Joel asks, ominously quiet. When you don’t respond, he reaches over to gently turn your head toward him.  The look on his face makes your stomach turn. 

“I thought you’d like that one since it’s a type of gun,” you explain.

“No.” He shakes his head, “I don't like it.” He lets go of your face. “Namin’ the goddamn dog,” he grumbles under his breath. He puts down his plate and stands up.

You’re afraid to ask, but when Joel silently walks off toward the woods, you look at Carter. He asks, “He tell ya anything about his family? His brother?”

Your face is hot and your tummy feels dizzy. “He said he didn’t have any family.” 

Carter raises his eyebrows, then he's quiet for a moment and stares at the ground.  His face becomes studious. 

“What,” you ask. 

“Ain't my place,” Carter looks down apologetically.  

A few seconds later, watching your face, Carter adds the obvious: “I wouldn't go there.”

"Yeah," you whisper.  Anything about his family. The question weighs on you. You really don't know Joel, do you? 

Carter changes the subject. “He’ll come around on the dog.”

You perk up. “You think?” 

Carter nods, then adds, “Sorry ‘bout Daisy,” squinting solemnly. 

“Thanks,” you nod, then can’t resist asking, “Joel wasn’t. . .married, was he?”

Carter shakes his head and doesn’t elaborate. At least there’s that. But still. His family. 

You're unsettled, and you try to distract yourself with other dog names, mentally going through a list. Bullet. Clover. Duck. Joel doesn’t have to know he has a name. 

Apparently, Carter is thinking about the same thing. He tries to cheer you up. “Gun names, huh? Pistol, Rifle--”

“--Rifle??” You crack a smile. 

“Hey, there's no bad ideas,” Carter laughs, and you giggle. 

“What about Bullet–”

“--Shh,” Carter nods toward the tree line. Joel is on his way back. 

As you finish eating, Carter tries to make small talk with Joel to break the tension. Joel doesn't say much. You ask Carter how he makes his jerky, and he walks you through it. It doesn't sound hard. You could probably do it yourself. 

—--Carter—--

The three of you are sitting outside by the fire after dinner. You’re on Joel’s knee, and Joel slides his hand up your dress a little bit. Carter averts his eyes and watches the dog work on his duck foot, making happy little growls and wagging his tail. Hard to say whether you and Joel are about to go inside and fuck, or if Joel’s just copping a feel like he does twenty times a day. 

You have Joel wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even know it. You wouldn’t know Joel’s never been like this before. You wouldn’t know Joel’s never made a girl his in the years Carter’s known him. Joel’s always been a man of focus. He’s always been a tough guy. He’s always had a temper, but at this point, he’d tear a man to shreds just for looking at you wrong. It’s scary, and it’s a lot of mess to clean up. Carter’s seen Joel do some crazy shit, but never as crazy as turning one of his own men into a scarecrow for an off-hand comment. Carter knows Joel better than anyone, and it’s clear to him that Joel is crazy about you.

The dog drops the duck foot, growls and barks, then takes off and runs toward the back of the trailer. You get off Joel’s knee to go after the dog, and Joel’s arm around your middle stops you. As Carter stands up and puts on his rifle, a high-pitched shriek comes from behind the trailer. Joel grabs his rifle off the log, and Carter says, “it’s cool,” holding his hand out. He won’t hesitate to yell if he needs Joel. “Go inside, sweet pea,” Joel tells you. You take your time going. 

Carter goes around the back of the trailer and trains his rifle on two figures cresting the hill. The dog has stopped short of them and is keeping his distance, but he’s still barking and looks ready to pounce, like he’s holding himself back. 

“DON’T MOVE,” Carter booms, then keeps his rifle fixed on the pair and slowly approaches them. When Carter reaches the dog, the dog’s barking fades into a low growl. 

They drop their backpacks and put their hands up. 

“What’re ya doin’ here?” Carter asks. 

The woman clears her throat and follows it with a demure smile.  “Went huntin’, came back ’n our house was taken.” 

Carter nods and looks back and forth between the two of them. They’re both decent looking. Some resemblance, maybe siblings. 

“What do y’all want,” Carter asks, then spits over his shoulder. 

“Nothin’,” the man claims. “Just cuttin’ through on our way to the road.” His eyes pan down Carter’s shoulders and arms. Carter squares his shoulders and adjusts his grip on the gun. 

Carter nods hesitantly. “Can ya hang tight for me? Don’t want ya walkin’ into gunfire.” 

They nod in agreement with a hint of fear. They shouldn’t be trouble. They aren’t carrying much. 

Carter walks backwards for a few slow steps, then nods and turns around toward the trailer. Carter sees you spying in the kitchen window and gives you a reassuring nod as he goes around the trailer to talk to Joel. 

-

"They're alright, I think," Carter tells Joel. 

"What do they want," Joel grumbles.

"Nothin'. . . Cuttin' through on their way to the road."

Joel nods. 

“Lost their house, didn’t say who took it.” 

Joel’s brow furrows and he nods. “Armed?” 

“Not heavily,” Carter answers. 

“Bring’em around. Let’s find out who took their house.”

“You got it,” Carter says. 

—---- 🌸you 🌸 —---

You move to the window facing the yard and the fire pit with logs around it. As they walk around the trailer, you overhear that they’ve been traveling most of the day.  When they stop by the fire, you wait a few minutes, thinking they’ll leave. Then they take a seat, and the woman sits on the log next to Joel’s, on the end of the log closest to him. Your chest tightens. When she smiles at him, you scoff out loud to yourself. You start to go out the front door, then stop and go to the bathroom. You look in the mirror and open the flannel. You run your finger over the faint, healed letters on your skin, and you leave your chest exposed. You adjust your thigh holster, then go outside. 

When the door opens, Carter looks over his shoulder and announces, “There she is.”

Joel introduces you. “This is, uh. . .” 

“Jill,” she pipes in. 

“Ron,” the man nods at you. 

A couple. They must be a couple. They look a little alike, but not enough to be siblings. Joel leans forward with his elbows braced on his knees, hands clasped, connecting with your eyes for a moment, sharing something near a smile before his eyes fade back to serious. 

Joel doesn’t make room for you in his lap, but he doesn’t tell you to go back inside either. He looks alert and on guard. There are four logs and five of you. You sit on Joel’s log and feel satisfied when he doesn’t scoot toward Jill to make more room. He doesn’t mind you being right up against him. Carter’s on the log to your left. Jill talks about their house and what was going on when they got back from their hunting trip. Ron is quieter. He glances at Carter a few times. Jill keeps looking at Joel. She talks too much.

Jill says they saw Infected behind the trailer park. Joel and Carter look at each other. Your stomach twists, but you study her face, and you don’t trust her. Attention. She wants attention. She wants Joel’s attention. Joel is better than Ron – bigger, stronger, better looking. There were no Infected. She’s making it up for attention. 

Everyone is quiet for what feels like a full minute. You look her dead in the eye and break the silence with a soft, matter-of-fact, “No you didn’t.”  Joel gives you a cautionary look, and you add, “We would’ve seen'em. We were there yesterday.” 

Jill raises her eyebrows, bemused.  “Just one,” she admits with a little smile. “My brother took care of it.” She nods to Ron, and the fact that they’re siblings makes you hate her.  

“Where,” Joel asks flatly. You wish he wouldn’t speak to her at all. 

“Woods behind the junkyard,” she answers. “Thought ya’d wanna know,” she shrugs. It’s quiet again. Nothing but the fire crackling and the dog growling happily. 

“Thanks,” Carter mumbles. 

Jill’s gaze lingers on Joel. She seems pleased with herself. Joel looks away, sits back, and crosses his arms. Now she’s checking out his arms as they bulge out with his hands under them. Your heart races. Anger simmers under your ribs. 

"Bet ya could handle anything that comes over that hill," she purrs at Joel. Your nostrils flare. Your eyes are glued to her. You don’t blink. She looks at Joel’s pants and wets her lips. Your heart skips a beat. It feels like a personal attack. You pop up from the log. 

Joel makes room in his lap and looks at you as he replies, "Carter here could handle'em, too,” with a nod to his left. 

Joel must have expected you to sit on his knee like you were before they showed up.  He clears his throat as it becomes clear you’re going to fully straddle him. His nose twitches and his eyes sparkle. He puts his arms around you loosely. His hands rest on your back to help you balance. You scoot closer and he helps you settle in so your crotch rests on his. Your head is in the crook of his neck, facing toward Jill to keep an eye on her. It doesn’t take long for a familiar bulge to twitch under you.  

Your arms are around Joel. Your hand runs over the handgun in the back of his pants, and he tenses. 

Jill has the nerve to speak again. “That can’t be comfortable,” she laughs.

“You can’t be serious,” you snap back. 

“Shhhh,” Joel whispers into your hair. “‘S’okay, baby.”  

“I’m comfortable,” you tell Joel.

“I know, sweet pea.” He nuzzles his nose at the top of your ear. “‘s’okay, baby,” he whispers. You rock your hips into him, feeling him grow harder. He pulls you tight, adjusting your weight. He moves one hand to your thigh. You grind yourself into him and he lets out a little “mm.” 

“Um, okay,” she mumbles in disgust. 

You snarl and turn your head away from her, back toward Joel. Then you turn your head toward Carter. Carter is absentmindedly examining the bite on his hand. Ron is spaced out, watching Carter’s face. Then, his eyes fall down to Carter’s lap. 

“You’re bit,” Jill announces. “Ron, he’s bit!” 

Ron snaps out of his daze, sits up self-consciously, and when his eyes fall on Carter’s hand, his face hardens.

Carter protests, “It’s not–” 

“--It was the dog,” your head snaps back toward Jill. “It doesn’t look anything like Infected.” She just wants attention. She wants drama. 

“It was the dog,” Joel repeats, unamused. It sounds like a warning. Joel’s hand on your thigh nudges the gun loose from your holster. Your hand wraps around the handle of the gun in the back of Joel’s pants. 

“Lemme see it,” Ron demands.  He stands up and points his gun at Carter.  He snarls with a look of disgust. His face has completely transformed since a moment ago.

“SIT DOWN,” Joel booms and grabs the gun out of your holster. 

Carter starts to offer, “I’ll show-”

“No ya won’t,” Joel snaps as he stands up with you still wrapped around him. Joel points the gun at Ron. “Come into my yard, orderin’ us around?” Joel’s deep voice vibrates in your ear, then he whispers, “Go inside,” as he tries to let you down. You take the gun out of the back of his pants. “Inside, now.” You put your feet on the ground. 

“Nobody owns this land,” Ron laughs. 

“C’mon, man, y’all know how it works,” Carter seems to try to de-escalate. “Show some respect.” 

You slowly, carefully recede into the shadows, but you don’t go inside.  

Jill points her gun at Carter and demands, “Show us.” With everyone else’s eyes fixed tensely on each other, you can approach her from behind, undetected.  Two guns are pointed at Carter and one at Ron. Carter reaches for his rifle, and Ron braces his own gun with both hands. Ron cocks the hammer, and you quietly approach Jill from behind. 

Ron adjusts his finger on the trigger, and Joel shoots him in the head.  Jill screams. 

It all happens in an instant: You lunge forward, tackling her to the ground, making her drop her gun.  You could shoot her in the head, but something makes you toss your gun aside. You can't stop yourself from putting your hands around her throat.  She claws at your chest and breasts. She slaps you, and it stings.  You elbow her in the face, keeping one hand on her neck. She keeps clawing at you. “Stupid whore,” she spits. 

“I'm only his,” you snap back. She laughs. “And he’s mine,” you pant and put your palm over her face, covering as much of it as you can, putting all your weight on her.  Before she can bite you, Joel’s massive hands are firm around your arms, pulling you off. You resist, and he wraps an arm around your middle. 

“‘S’okay,” he repeats as he pulls you off, and lifts you into standing.  “Go inside.”

You hesitate and he firmly adds, “Now. I'll handle this.” He gives you a look that says he means it.  Then he turns his attention to Jill.  She coughs as you walk away. She whimpers and plays up how injured she is. Pathetic. 

“Hey,” Joel’s voice softens for her.  “You’ll be alright,” he tells her. You glance back and he’s what? He’s straddling her. He has his hands on her face. Is he . . .stroking her hair? You can’t see well enough. Your chest burns, and you start to turn around completely, wanting to approach them.  

But Carter whispers, “C’mon, let’s go,” and gently takes your elbow. 

Maybe it’s for the best. You walk with Carter in a daze. Maybe you were seeing things. No, Joel is comforting her. Your Joel is straddling and comforting the woman who just slapped you and called you a whore. 

“It's okay,” Joel reassures Jill again, then you hear the loud crack of her neck snapping. 

You feel a lot of things. Joy, relief, guilt–not for being happy, but for doubting Joel. 

Carter opens the trailer door and you go inside. 

-

For a few minutes, you just sit at the table. Your relief at Jill’s demise quickly fades when you realize she died thinking Joel liked her. Joel acting sweet with her even for a few seconds was more than she deserved. 

Now you can't calm down. All your muscles are tense. You start to cry, then you go to get a glass of water. Your hand is shaking and you can hardly hold the glass. You want to throw it, but you put it down, still empty, on the counter. You take a deep breath, bury your mouth in your shoulder, then scream as loud as you can, until you're out of air and your throat is sore. You cough and spit over the sink, nauseous from the effort. Then you slump down onto the kitchen floor in tears. 

Almost as soon as you hit the floor, the front door opens. It's not Joel, it's Carter. 

“What happened?” Carter rushes over to you.

“Where's Joel?”

“Haulin’ a body.” 

“Which body? Don't let him touch her!”

He looks at you, stunned for a second, then says, “Not hers.” 

“You promise?” you try to choke back tears. 

“God damn, you're both losin’ it,” Carter mutters to himself. Then he hesitantly reaches for your shoulder. “Shhh, it's okay.” 

You lunge toward him on your knees and let yourself fall onto his chest.  He looks over his shoulder then hesitantly hugs you. “Okay,” he whispers with his hands very lightly touching your back but not resting their full weight. He gives you a moment, then clears his throat. “I've gotta. . . ” He lets go, stands up, and fills the glass of water.  “Here.” He puts it on the table, then comes back to you. 

“Been a long day, huh?” Carter asks. He squats down and takes your elbow in his hand. “C’mon.” You wipe your eyes on your flannel and stand up. He guides you to the table with his hand on your back and pulls out a chair for you. He leaves you at the table with your water. 

—--

You sit there for a minute, sipping your water. Then go to the bathroom to splash your face. You stop crying. You fix your hair. But your eyes are still misty.  You look at your chest in the mirror. She scratched you. You can see a couple of her scratch marks better than Joel’s name. Your chest heats up as you stare at it, and your heart beats faster. You take calming breaths. You want her to go away. You don’t want anyone on your skin but Joel. You dab your chest with a cold washcloth. The worst scratch is right over the ‘J’.  

You open the medicine cabinet, don’t find anything useful, and close it. You go to the kitchen and find a pocket knife in one of the drawers. You bring it back to the bathroom and open the sharpest blade. What if you just. . .if you make the ‘J’ a little better, maybe. It’s like she goes away.  How should you do it? You look down at yourself. You can’t really see. You look in the mirror and bring the knife to your chest. The hand-eye coordination is hard in the mirror.

You’re looking in the mirror, holding the pocket knife in your hand, when the front door opens and slams shut. Joel’s boots thud, then stop. He says your name.  “You okay?” 

You sniffle.  He approaches the bathroom door. It's not shut. You move toward the door to shut it, but you're too late. Joel stops it from closing. He's so much stronger than you, he pushes it open with ease, then his arms wrap you in a hug and the force of it walks you backward toward the sink. 

You still have the knife open in your hand. As his arms tighten, you whisper, “Careful,” and hold your hand away. 

He pulls away, looks you over, and looks at your hand. “Hell are ya doin’,” he mutters. 

You turn back toward the mirror and stroke the ‘J’. “Making it better?” 

“Makin’ it. .  .” 

Your eyes water again as you face the mirror fully. Joel turns toward the mirror, too, standing behind you. You run your fingers over your chest with one hand and hold the knife with the other. 

Joel's face changes when he realizes what you're doing. He grabs your wrist so hard you reflexively drop the knife and it clatters into the sink. “No.”

He picks it up, closes it, and puts it behind the faucet. He looks at your face in the mirror. “Can't let ya do that.” 

“You said people can’t see it.”

“Told ya we’d figure somethin’ else out.”

“Like what?” 

Joel runs his hand over your chest, and his thumb lingers on the scratch over the J. His nostrils flare, his head tilts down, and his eyes darken under his brow. “This from her?”

You nod.

Joel sighs and steps over to the bathtub. He starts a shower. He takes his shirt off over his back. You back away toward the door, and start to give him some space.

“Whoa, nuh-uh” Joel stops you. “Did I say leave?” 

“Sorry.”

“Take your clothes off.” He sits on the toilet to untie his boots, then slips out of them and takes off his socks. 

“Ya know, ya came out there. Got her all worked up,” he grumbles. What? That’s not fair.

“I just wanted you.”

“You were starin’ right at her, sweet pea.”

“I just wanted to be on you, wanted to touch you,” you insist. 

“She wanted her grubby hands on you.”

“You think that's what she wanted?”

“And she got it, didn't she?” Joel asks rhetorically, eyes fixed on your chest again. He clenches his jaw at the sight of her touch. He nods toward the shower. “That’s yours.”

“Can I have a bath?” You know it’s a long shot. He’s not in the mood to wait for water to boil. 

“Fire's out and we’re outta gas.  Gonna be cold either way.”  

You brace yourself for the water. Joel remains seated on the closed toilet and holds your hand to help you balance as you step into the tub. You're far enough back that the water only hits from your abdomen down. It's not quite as bad as you expect, but gives you a chill all over. He scans your body as it prickles in goosebumps and your nipples pebble. He reaches behind you for the soap, then lathers a washcloth. He starts with your chest. The scrape stings. 

“She wanted you, not me,” you mutter, wincing at the echo of your own words under the light beating of the water. Joel slows down and you continue, “She was looking at you, not me.” He stops the washcloth on your clavicle. Lather pours between your breasts and trickles down your sternum. 

Joel squints at you, looks from your mouth to your tits, swallows, and refocuses on the task, adjusting the washcloth in his hand. 

“Don’t gotta worry ‘bout that, sweet pea,” he murmurs and begins to slide the cloth slowly across your skin. 

It’s nice to hear, but it’s not enough. Your eyes feel weak. “Well, I do worry about it,” you croak and feel the tears coming back. 

He adjusts himself, then sighs. “You always cry in the shower?” 

The coldness stings.

“Are you mad at me,” you ask shakily.

Joel curses himself under his breath. His brow furrows at your breasts and he braces his wet hand on his knee. “No, baby.” His eyes rise to meet yours, and he cups your cheek. “No. . .Just tired. . .” He searches your face. “Too many bodies in those woods. Gettin’ old.” You sniffle. You start mentally going through the bodies, and your head hurts at the thought. Joel says, “and ya can’t get in my shot like that, sweet pea.” You relax a little more. Your tears wane at the thought that he was already planning to kill her. 

Joel stands up, hands you the washcloth, and starts to undo his jeans. You watch his pants come down over his crotch, a sight that always makes your breath hitch. “Face the water,” he mumbles, and you obey, staying far enough back not to get your head wet. He braces his hand on the far wall of the shower and steps in, squeezing between you and the back of the tub. You inch forward to make room. His feet are spread around yours and his hands rest on your hips for a moment. He presses his lips into the crown of your head, then reaches around your front to take the washcloth from you. 

Joel presses himself up against your back, then continues to wash your chest. He soaps up your breasts again, then cradles one with his bare hand as he washes your trunk. You look down and watch the suds slide down your body. He washes your hips, your thighs. You’re grateful for the warmth of his groin against you. He turns you to the side and washes your sides, under your arms, your back, your ass, your legs. Then he tells you to rinse off while he washes himself. He steps all the way under the cold water without so much as flinching.  When he’s finished, he rinses off, turns off the water, and wraps you in a hug. The water rolls off your skin and the faucet drips as you stand there in his arms.

After a few minutes, Joel’s deep voice slices through the silence. “Carter's stayin’ tonight. Wait here.”  This unsettles you because you imagine Joel must be worried about something to have Carter stay. Did he believe her about the Infected?

Joel wraps a towel around himself and leaves you in the bathroom with your own towel.  You look in the mirror for a moment, then quickly avert your eyes from your reflection.  

Joel returns with clothes for you. He’s in plaid pj pants and a white t-shirt. Both are too small on him. His pockets are puckered.  You smile at the sliver of skin between his pants and shirt, and he asks, “What?” 

You shrug. “You’re wearing pjs.” 

“Yeah? Well I ain't wearin’em long,” he murmurs and you feel a twitch of need. “You're gonna finish what ya started out there.” He looks at you darkly. “Got it?”

You bite your lip and nod as desire throbs between your legs. 

“That means I ain't doin’ it, you are.” 

Your chest flutters with butterflies. 

He rests a flannel on his shoulder, while he holds up your nightie for you. You lift your arms and he puts it over your head.  He pulls it down and pats your butt. “Want it that bad. . .” He holds the flannel up for you and you stick your arms in. He brings his mouth to your ear. “Gonna show me how bad.” 

The front door opens and shuts. 

“All good?” Joel yells. 

“All good,” Carter answers, then exaggerates a loud yawn. 

“Blankets in the closet,” Joel yells. 

Joel brushes his teeth and leaves you to get ready for bed. 

-

Joel returns just as you're finishing up. He shoves his hand in the puckered pocket of the pj pants and pulls out something brown and strappy that looks small in his hands. It looks like a piece of your holster, but thinner, more delicate. His brow furrows at it and he swallows.  He sits on the closed toilet seat again. 

“What is it?” you ask. 

“It's. . .” He looks at your chest. “C'mere.” You step forward. He holds the object against his thigh and with his other hand, he traces the letters on your chest. “It's better than tryin’ to . . .” he trails off. He looks at your face, then back to your chest and caresses it again. “Better than this.” Your heart swells. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He doesn’t want you to hurt you. 

He looks at the object in his lap. 

“It's for me?”

He nods. He takes a deep breath and fiddles with the belt-like closure. “Can wear a sweater or whatever, and still. . .” 

“Lemme try it on.”

He searches your eyes. “Really want to?” 

You nod.

He stands up and guides you to the sink. He stands behind you as you both look in the mirror. He wraps it around your throat. Your breath hitches when you see his name in careful, bold lettering, clear but imperfect. It’s an odd sensation, having something around your neck, but the back of it is soft against your skin. It’s smoother and more delicate than the holster is on your thigh. 

“It's beautiful,” you tell him as he concentrates on putting it on you.  

He's gentle and careful. He fastens it with enough room to breathe and swallow. You look at it in the mirror, and the fact that he made it makes you emotional. “You made it,” you whisper.

He nods. “Don't gotta wear it all the time, but-”

“I love it.” 

“Yeah?” he turns you around with his hands on your hips, and his gaze devours your form from head to toe. “Well, God damn. . .Looks good on ya, too.” 

You wrap your arms around him and he hugs you close. He leans back to see you wearing the choker.  “Let's go to bed.”

—-—--

You take off the flannel and get in bed. You bury your head in your pillow. Joel wraps you in his legs and arms, muscles straining his pajamas as he holds you in the dim room. His big, warm hand strokes your back. His body is like a furnace. You take deep breaths. In his bed, in his arms, you finally feel like you can breathe. His arms feel like home in a way that nearly overwhelms you. These are the arms that took you. They hurt you and pushed you away. Would they still? These arms hold you and care for you. They comfort you and kill for you. You hope they never let go. 

It doesn't feel like you were ever really home before him, and it's impossible to imagine an after. There is no after. You're his. In the cruel, awful world, he carved out this space just for you. He kisses your forehead. You pinch your eyes shut and a tear runs down your cheek. It's a tear of relief. You press your cheek into his white t-shirt and his warm package twitches against you. He pushes his hips into you only slightly, and keeps holding you. You focus on his breathing and the beat of his heart. 

You wedge your hand between your bodies. Your knuckles slide down your abdomen, and your palm skims his tummy on its way to his pants. You cradle the warm bulge in his flannel. You press your palm into it and he grunts softly as he presses his hips forward. Then he wraps an arm over you.  He rolls onto his back, taking you with him. You're on top of him, and your heart flutters as his words from the bathroom echo. That means you’re doin' it. 

-

You come to your knees, and he watches you curiously as you straddle him. You lower yourself so your panties meet his flannel, and the warmth of his bulge sends a shock to your chest. You lightly grind against him and watch his chest rise and fall as his cock swells against your neediest place. His hips lift and his eyes gloss over as he watches you move on him. You must be a vision – swollen, misty eyes, scratched up chest – but the look on his face says you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. 

That means you're doin’ it.  

You scoot back so you’re straddling his thighs.  You bring your hand just above his waistband, and your thumb traces his happy trail up under his t-shirt to his belly button, bringing the shirt up with you. You use both hands to push it up and he asks, “Want this off?” 

“It's okay,” you shake your head. “Just like to see this. You slide your hand down his stomach, once again running your thumb through the hair leading to his groin. You run your hand slowly up and down it a few times and feel his muscles tense under the light padding of his tummy. The bulge in his pants becomes more of a tent. His tummy flexes as he rises up enough to take the shirt off anyway.

“What else ya like?” He asks. By now, he knows. Oh God, does he know.  But he must want to hear it. He must want to see it, feel it. He wets his bottom lip. You back up down his legs and take his flannel pants down. His cock bounces free, and for a moment, you dismount him entirely.  Once the pjs are down below his knees, he kicks them off the rest of the way as you take off your underwear. He sucks in air through his nose as he watches you. He's still, and he’s quiet, but the look on his face is more pain than patience. 

You straddle his legs, bend at the hips, and rest your elbows on either side of his hips. You take his cock in one hand, then bring your lips to the head. He's still not at full mast. Not for him. For another man, this might be as hard as it gets, but not Joel. You suck the tip into your mouth. A masochistic part of you imagines how many women might have sucked this cock. You have, too, of course. But you want to outdo them all. You suck as much of it into your mouth as you can, and he sucks in a shaky breath as you furrow your brows and close your eyes. You suck from the back of your mouth, and your throat gurgles obscenely as his tip nudges it, then you gag. His hand rests gently on the side of your head. “You’re okay.” 

You lock eyes with him as you slowly let his shaft out of your mouth. A string connects your lips to his tip until you wipe your mouth with the back of your wrist. You hold his shaft in a loose fist, thumbing his dorsal vein as you turn your attention to his balls. You cup his balls, then lick a stripe up the seam of his sack, and his hand grips the fitted sheet. When you look up at him, he releases the sheet. Your tongue circles his left nut and he closes his eyes. You have your free hand braced on his upper thigh, near where it meets his torso, and you can practically feel the blood rushing to his cock. His eyes meet yours again, and his brows are furrowed. 

“Can I have them in my mouth,” you ask and he nods encouragingly. 

You take one into your mouth and circle your tongue around it. You let it rest on your tongue then give it a gentle suck and he breathes, “oh God damn.” It’s fuzzy and soft and feels nice in your mouth.

You pinch your eyes shut and sigh, “Mm,” with your mouth full. You move to the other one, careful and gentle.  “Ohh,” he moans a little louder than you expect, and you pause. 

You look toward the bedroom door nervously, and take your mouth off. You’re about to remind him about Carter, but he cuts you off, “Shhh,” before you can. 

You lick all around his balls again, and his cock throbs angrily in your hand. You suck a ball into your mouth. You want both, but there’s no way you can do it without scraping him with your teeth, so you don’t. 

Instead, you return your lips to his tip and feel yourself throbbing as you suck his shaft into your mouth. When you look up, he’s shaking his head no.  

“This aint what ya wanted, baby.”

“Is it good?” you ask. 

“Yeah. It's good, sweet pea. . .The best.” His thumb brushes your temple. He moves his fingers to tilt your chin up to look at him.  “But this ain't what ya want *really* want.”

“Wanna make you feel good.”

“Yeah? You were bouncin’ on my cock out there, just to make me feel good?”

You twitch and swallow and your chest flutters with desire.  

“What’d I tell ya in the bathroom?”

“I'm gonna finish what I started”

“That’s right,” he nods. 

His cock is raging hard. You’re throbbing and gushing for it. You give the tip of it one last kiss, then get up on your knees and take your time positioning yourself over it. You press his tip against your most sensitive place for a moment and let out a whimper. The contact makes you ache for him. 

—

Joel cradles the backs of your thighs as you hold his cock. You look down as you move forward just a little more, then nestle his cockhead at your dripping hole, the very tip of it prodding just barely inside. You’re more than wet enough. You brace your hands on his tummy, near the bottom of his ribs.  Then, you begin to sink down with a whimper, letting his cock spread you open.  He growls, “God damn.”  You're biting your lip, with his big cock stretching you already. 

He nods, “go on, you can do it.” You lift yourself up and bend slightly forward, tilting your hips. He sucks in air through his teeth. He grabs your hips, and you groan as he pulls you down. “Fuck,” he breathes heavily. He loosens his hands on your hips, then moves them to your thighs. You sit still on his cock with your body angled slightly forward, your clit pressing into his pubic hair.  You savor the fullness and the way your body makes space for him. 

You brace your hands on his chest and begin to move yourself. “Good girl,” he whispers with a gentle thrust of his hips. You whimper as his length nudges deep inside, and his hips lift you. 

You lift your ass and let most of his length out, before swallowing it up again and moaning with the delicious stretch. You slowly move yourself, and when you whimper, you feel his nipples harden under your hands. You palm his pecs as you ride his cock.  His chest rises with deep breaths as you fuck him. His eyes keep drifting to his name wrapped around your neck.

You try to be quiet, biting your lip, but you still let out little moans, you can't help it.  So does he. “Ohhh, baby—ohh.” His sounds are desperate, from deep in his chest. 

“Ya do it good,” he whispers. He cradles your ass in his massive hands and begins to move you on him, a little faster than you were going. He watches your breasts move under your nightie.  He lifts up the hem of your nightie to watch your cunt swallow his length, and he groans softly. You pause and take it off, then start moving again. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, then his hands return to your ass, gently guiding your rhythm. He clenches his jaw, and you can tell he's trying not to take over entirely. 

“C’mere a minute,” he murmurs. 

His tummy pudges and wrinkles over his flexing abs, and his fingers dig into your ass cheeks as he sits up. He wraps his arms around you and turns to face the edge of the bed with his legs hanging off. “Hang on,” he murmurs. “Hang on, baby.” He holds your back with one arm, stands up slightly, and pulls at one of your thighs. You adjust your position so you’re seated instead of kneeling and your bent legs wrap loosely around him. Without the leverage of your knees on the bed, it’s up to him.

You have your arms around his neck and your face against his cheek. Your lips pull like a magnet to the skin just below the dark, curly hair on his head.  You plant a kiss on his neck and suck lightly. He exhales vocally. He hugs you into him and moves you up and down. He’s doing it all now. You both sigh and moan as his cock fills you up. 

Then, he loosens his arms and slides his hands to your shoulder blades. He hooks his thumbs under your arms and breathes, “Lemme see ya for a minute.” 

You hesitantly let him pull you away from his body, missing the heat of his chest against yours. 

“Ain't gonna drop ya, sweet pea.” 

You relax some of your weight into his hands, and he brings you all the way down so you're lying face up with your lower back on his lap. His hands under your arms hold you steady as he thrusts into you, like your body is a warm, wet sleeve for him. You let your head fall back in pleasure. He grunts as he moves you, and you look again to see him snarl. He looks down and watches his cock disappear again and again.

“God damn you feel good,” he whispers. His eyes roam from your eyes to your lips, to your choker, to your tits. He watches where your bodies are joined as he keeps thrusting into you, making you feel like no one ever has. Then his eyes drift up your body again. He slows down. His hands tighten, and he grunts as he brings your body upright again. Your breasts meet his chest. Your arms wrap around his neck again as he hugs you.  Your cheek rests against his jaw, and his scuff scratches you pleasantly. “Always so good,” he breathes, moving you on his cock. His breath is warm against your ear. “Ohh baby,“ he sighs. 

He tilts his chin to look up at the ceiling, and you latch onto his neck. He braces a hand on the bed and his hips lift under yours as you grind your body into his. “Yeah,” he sighs. “Oh, God, baby. You're–you’re so good for me,” he pants, barely above a whisper. “Ohhh–so good, sweet pea.” 

You release his neck with a whimper. He cradles your head with one hand, and his cheek returns to yours. 

As you ride him, his head slowly drifts back, so his breath is on your cheek instead of your ear. Your lips are dangerously close, and Joel doesn't pull away. Your mouths get closer while your bodies move as one. Soon, the corners of your lips are touching. You breathe and moan against each other's mouths. Your lips tingle at the closeness, and all you want is his mouth on yours. It feels so close. The sides of your mouths move against each other. It’s enough, just feeling his lips. You want more, but it’s enough, for now. He pulls his head back, and your heart barely has time to sink before he leans his forehead against yours and cradles the back of your head. Your mouths loosely connect, with his lower lip hitching on your upper lip every time you slide down his cock. You breathe each other’s breath. Your noses touch. His bottom lip tenses, and his mouth follows yours, not letting your lips slip away. You moan softly against his mouth, pinching your eyes shut, resisting the urge, resisting it.  

Then, Joel presses his open lips against yours. His lips drag lightly, clockwise, then they truly embrace you. As your mouths seal together, you half-moan, half-whine, “Mmm.” His lips are strong and desperate, pulling on yours like a hug. You can feel him taking your air and your spit. He sucks it right out of you, replacing it with an even more desperate need for him. You’re having him, you’re having all of him, but you can never have enough. Arousal floods your body. It gathers deep in your gut and bubbles up to your chest.  You take a deep breath through your nose as his tongue slowly thrusts into your mouth and finds yours. His cock is in your tight, wet cunt, and his tongue is in your soft little mouth. You throb and twitch on his cock, and you're nearly overcome. Your whole body simmers. He wraps his arm tighter around you, and your tits smush against him as he kisses you hungrily, and you kiss back.  It’s real, it’s really–it’s real. His hand slides down to grip the back of your neck as your mouths move together, drawing each other in, deeper and deeper, like you need it to live.  

“Mmmm,” you whine at your imminent peak. 

“Mm,” he grunts into your mouth as you twitch again on his cock.  His tongue slides against yours, and the tension boils over violently, erupting from your core out to every inch of your body. Your walls clench, and you don't want to let go of his mouth, but your body jerks. Your lips begin to break away with a moan as you spasm on his cock. He holds you there by your neck. Your mouths stay half connected, and you breathe and moan against each other. Time freezes and waves of pleasure ripple through your core. Then, Joel’s thick cock twitches in the embrace of your spasming cunt. “Ugghh,” grunts, then his lips take yours again. “Mmmm.” He erupts, and you're still not finished. He holds you still, holds you tight. His hips lift slowly into you as his cock pulses. Massive bursts of warmth flood your core, and he kisses you slowly but needily as he comes. The kiss becomes sloppy. You both breathe through your noses, but your mouths still disconnect for split seconds, breathing each other’s humid breath.

When Joel finishes emptying his load into you, he gently pulls his lips from yours to take a deeper breath. He leans back and collapses on the bed. You sit there on his cock, still twitching, and your hand drifts to your tingling lips. His hands rest on your thighs. You watch his chest expand with air, and you watch his face. He opens his eyes, then silently motions c’mere with both hands. You fold at your hips and hug him. As you settle in, he strokes the nape of your neck. His chest rises and falls under your cheek. He unfastens the leather choker for you. You were planning to sleep in it, but now that he’s kissed you–and it was more than that, it felt like more–you don't feel quite as desperate for the tangible reminder that he wants you. You have it. Your lips are buzzing. Your whole body is. You can feel it in your bones. 

-

After a few minutes of caressing you, Joel murmurs, “Let's get some sleep.” 

You both get under the covers. He lies on his back. You’ve never seen his face so peaceful. You rest your head and half your body on him. You rest your hand on his chest.  He strokes your back. Then, he lays his other hand on top of yours.  

Soon, you drift off to the sound of him lightly snoring. 

----

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Raider POV: The Kiss

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So, I was writing this one when I took the detour to let Carter jack off lmao: He's only human.

Thank you so much for reading and engaging. I really appreciate your support and patience and love for these characters. Out of all my characters, it means so much to me when you engage with raider Joel because I pour a lot of myself into this one and have been writing it for >8 months.

Love you all so much! I can't respond to everything without spamming but I appreciate all of your commentary so much and often revisit it when I need inspo.

I hear you about notifs not working, i hear you about tags not working (i'm not getting a lot of my tags either). consider checking my fic notifs blog @toxicfics or the "latest fics" on my profile header once in a while to see what you might have missed.

Raider: @randomhoe @princessloveweird @mugshotqueen @anas-dreamer @eggnox @dindjarins-brown-eyed-girl @tulipsatmidnight @imaginary98 @neobanguniverse@quietlyignoringyou @gab-thelamb-onthemoon

: @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname   @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @may-machin @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

[sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts]

𝙎𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙧𝙢...

*vision bored doesn't describe readers' looks it describes the vibes of the story*

screencaps: @din-jarring they are amazing, the best most amazing person. I definitely recommend you check them out 🫶🏻

Pairing: dark!Raider!Joel Miller x fem!virgin!reader

Summary: Seven years after the outbreak and with two days of starvation looming, desperation drives you to attempt stealing from your own assailant. But in this dire bid for survival, what unforeseen consequences await?

Warnings/tags: MDNI 18+, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, BLOOD, VIRGIN READER, breaking and entering, bondage (belt), groping, spit, fear, non/dub-con, guns, toxic people, degradation, praise, (maybe kind of), fingering kinda, biting, male moaning, breeding kink, kissing, kidnapping, mean joel, daze, kinda inexperienced reader, UNprotected sex wrap it before you tap it, kids. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION, YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME

WC: 2.5K

Your pulse quickened as a looming silhouette tore through the door of your family's cabin, a formidable rifle in hand. The once serene sanctuary of your family retreat had morphed into something ominous during the seven years since the outbreak. Time had shrouded the cabin in secrecy, but now it felt like it held more secrets than safety. With no one around to offer aid and your provisions dwindling, a sense of foreboding gripped you. Who was this intruder, and what did they want?

Huddled behind the worn fabric of the couch, you trembled, trying to decipher the intruder's intentions. The eerie silence of the cabin was only broken by the sound of your racing heartbeat and the slam of the empty cupboards. The emptiness of the cupboards, devoid of sustenance for two long days, added to the dread coiling in your stomach.

Your father's departure had cast the first shadow of unease. Taking the only means of protection—a small pistol—he left behind a void filled with questions and fear. When days stretched into weeks without his return, your mother embarked on a desperate quest to find him, leaving you alone to wrestle with gnawing uncertainty.

Peering cautiously from your hiding place, you observed the intruder ransacking the kitchen. Panic surged as you spotted the cabin door ajar, a white van parked conspicuously outside. Desperation prompted a daring idea – if there was nothing left to steal, why not take whatever the intruder possessed? With knowledge of the terrain on your side, you calculated a plan to hide in the woods until the coast was clear.

You watched the intruder's every move, hoping for the perfect moment to act. When he cautiously ventured into the bathroom, likely searching for supplies you lacked, you seized the chance to make your move. With a deep breath to steady your nerves, you slipped out the door and tiptoed toward the van, determined to reclaim control of the situation.

Peering into the dim interior, you scanned for any signs of danger before cautiously stepping inside. The van's interior was a jumble of crates and boxes, their contents obscured by shadows. Time was of the essence, so you swiftly lifted the tarp covering the crates, revealing precious bottles of water. With careful precision, you gathered as many as you could carry, ensuring not to drop any or create any disturbance.

Exiting the van, you concealed the bottles in a nearby bush, intending to wait there until the intruder departed. Once the water was safely stashed, you returned to the van, continuing your search. As you reached for a few cans of canned food, you suddenly found yourself confronted by a terrifying sight: a tall, muscular man with a rifle pointed directly at your face.

The sound of the cans dropping from your hands seemed to fade away as you stood there frozen in fear, unable to move or even think. The man had a heavy, muscular build, with dark hair and an incoming beard that made him look even more menacing. It was clear that he had been watching you, and that he had no intention of letting you leave without a fight.

As you struggled to comprehend the situation unfolding before you, the man's voice shattered the eerie silence, causing a shiver to run down your spine. "Caught red-handed, are we? Thought you could just waltz in and help yourself to my supplies?" His words were like a cold slap in the face, jolting you into a state of panic.

Before you could utter a word in response, he roughly pushed you onto your back, the barrel of the gun pressing into your chest. Fear gripped you tightly as you found yourself unable to move, your mind racing with thoughts of imminent danger.

"Please, I didn't mean any harm. I'll put everything back, just please don't hurt me," you pleaded, your voice quivering with desperation. But your words seemed to fall on deaf ears as he grabbed your arm with force, pushing your chest against the center console. Your heart sank as the cold metal of the gun dug into your back, a sense of hopelessness washing over you.

In that moment of vulnerability, you couldn't help but curse yourself for choosing to wear a dress today. The fabric rode up your thighs, leaving you feeling exposed and defenseless. It served as a harsh reminder of how unready you were for the predicament unfolding before you. While you weren't naive, you'd had discussions before, even received "the talk" about the delicate subject of virginity. But contemplating the act itself was a realm you never envisioned venturing into, especially not now. The weight of such responsibilities loomed heavy on your mind, intertwining with the immediate danger at hand, creating a tangled web of fear and uncertainty.

He knelt behind you, his rough, calloused hand replacing the gun at your back. "You want to leave here in one piece? Then you better be prepared to compensate me for what you were trying to steal," he demanded, his grip firm as he lifted the hem of your dress.

As panic surged through you, you attempted to break free, but his hold only tightened. He swiftly changed tactics, his unfamiliar touch gripping your waist just above where your panties ended. With a rough tug, he pulled down your panties, his words and actions leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

"Now that's a pretty lookin' pussy," he taunted, his fingers tracing over your folds. You squirmed uncomfortably under his touch, his chuckle sending shivers down your spine.

Feeling trapped and afraid, you remained frozen, unable to escape his looming presence.

He started to palm your bare clit, making sure to rub the wet spit onto your pussy. You were starting to become wet at his actions, he rubbed his middle finger around your damp pussy teasing you, making you squirm again. “I like it when you squirm. Makes things more interesting," he chuckled, his words sending a shiver down your spine. In a desperate attempt to escape his unsettling presence, you jolted forward, scrambling towards the front of the van, hoping to create some distance between yourself and the menacing figure behind you. He pulled you back and firmly grasped your shoulders, preventing you from escaping further. Then, he cupped your face with his hands, his touch possessive yet tender, his eyebrows lifting in a silent question as his husky voice filled the space between you.

"I'm never—" he began, his lips pressing against yours briefly before he lowered his voice, his gaze locking onto yours, "gonna let you go." His thumb traced gentle circles on your temple, a stark contrast to the intensity of his words.

But then his touch shifted, his lips leaving yours to trail along the curve of your neck and shoulders, igniting a tingling sensation that sent shivers down your spine. It was as if he was trying to seduce you, drawing you in with each caress.

Returning to your lips, he initiated another kiss, and you found yourself torn between conflicting emotions. Part of you felt trapped and scared, but another part couldn't deny the thrill coursing through you. As he deepened the kiss, you found yourself responding, losing yourself in the moment.

Finally pulling back, a small smile played on his lips as he shook his head in disbelief. His voice dropped to a whisper as he repeated his vow, "Never."

As one of his hands traveled down your stomach, a shiver ran down your spine, and he began planting kisses along your neck. For a moment, you closed your eyes, lost in the sensation, feeling a sense of serenity wash over you. But reality crashed back down as he suddenly shoved you forcefully onto the center console. Your head collided with something hard, causing a sharp pain to shoot through you, and blood began to gush from your nose.

Shocked and a little dizzy from the sudden impact, you struggled to gather your bearings, your head throbbing as blood continued to trickle from your nose. Blinking rapidly, you tried to focus, but the dizziness made it difficult to think clearly. Panic began to rise within you as you realized the severity of the situation, your heart pounding in your chest.

One of his hands held you down harshly against the console keeping you trapped once again sanity has left you, his other hand swiftly unbuckled his belt, the sounds of his movements echoing in the tense silence of the van you felt hopeless and dazed as you felt his dick rub against your pussy still wet from the desire of his kiss.

He leaned closer to you, his entire body weight pressing down on yours, his chest now firmly against your back as he roughly pushed his dick into you. he was big you let out a loud shriek as a burning sensation cascaded through your body, causing your eyes to squeeze shut in pain. Desperately, you reached for his thighs, trying to push him off you.

"Quiet." He groans as he pushes deeper into your cunt you felt his pubes brush against your clit, he was so big so overwhelming you could feel him in your stomach even as he was still. He gripped your hands and grabbed his belt from beside him before tying your hands together behind your back. you could feel every movement making you let out small sounds of discomfort as his dick rested inside of you.

"Suckin' me right in." He lifted your dress higher taking a moment to stand and bask in the view of his dick being swallowed by your pussy. he started groping your ass taking his time as he started he's penetrating your soul. he began to thrust setting a slow but harsh pace. "You're gonna be achin' for days.” you let out a few broken moans at his movements your daze and confusion were replaced with a sense of pleasure and warmth as he continued thrusting in and out of you.

He shifted his hands to grip the makeshift restraints around your wrists, then began pushing you towards him so that you met his thrusts. As the new sensation overwhelmed you, you started to squirm again, unable to contain the mix of pleasure and discomfort. "I said squirming makes it interesting, I didn't say be difficult," he murmured, his voice low and filled with amusement. With a swift movement, he hooked you up so you were pressed against him, your struggles futile against his strength. He noticed the blood from your nose and chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine as you whimpered in fear.

He started to thrust up into you harder. more primal for his desire, he moved one of his hands to play with your breast. you let out a loud moan as one of his thrusts hit just where it was needed for his movements to feel like he was heaven. He pushed you back onto the console, this time skillfully avoiding the sharp object, sparing you from any further facial damage.

His weight presses you down onto your back again, forcing you to stay still as he pounds deep into you over and over again. His power and speed never slow down as he bites down hard on your shoulder to muffle his moans, he hits that sweet spot inside of you with every thrust making it impossible to hide your obvious pleasure from his actions making sure to move your hips back to meet him every time it makes you feel so dirty, "You tried to take from me, but now you're learning your place. Beneath me, where you belong, like a whore".He stopped biting your shoulder and whispered, letting out a soft moan

"Don't call me that," you manage to mumble, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and defiance, though you still push back into him, your back arching involuntarily making you press into his chest. "I-I can call you whatever I want when... when..." Your words falter as you struggle to find your voice, the pleasure taking over you. As he continues to pound into you.

But he cuts you off sharply, he pinched your side hard, causing you to whimper in pain. "Shut the fuck up," he commands, his voice harsh and threatening. "I'm tired of your mouth. Keep it up, and I'll find another way to shut you up."

His thrusts grew more erratic, his grip tightening as he abandoned any pretense of restraint, his small moans and grunts escaping him freely. "Shit, I'm gonna need Viagra or something to keep up with this pussy," he muttered, his words punctuated by the force of his pistoning movements. "Gosh... feels like you're gonna swallow me whole."

Suddenly, he stopped hitting that spot that had pleased you, and a sense of disappointment washed over you. As his thrusts became sloppy, you ceased meeting him halfway, hoping he would find that sweet spot again. But he didn't.

With a final, desperate thrust, he let out a guttural groan, his body shuddering as he reached his climax. As he withdrew, leaving you feeling empty and unsatisfied, a wave of sadness and confusion washed over you.

Your walls were slick, not with your arousal, but with his, milky ropes of his release making an obscene set of sounds as he pulled out of you. Still restrained, you watched silently as he got dressed and exited the van, leaving you feeling abandoned and exposed.

Minutes passed, the silence heavy and suffocating, before he returned with a few papers and items you recognized from your cabin. "Hey, those are mine!" you protested, your voice tinged with a mix of anger and desperation.

He ignored your protest, tossing the items into a bag without a second glance. "They're mine now," he replied coldly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

As he released you from your restraints, you felt a surge of defiance rising within you. "You can't just take everything!" you exclaimed, trying to assert some semblance of control over the situation.

But his gaze was icy as he looked at you, his expression unreadable. "Watch me," he muttered, before turning and striding away, leaving you feeling small and powerless once again.

"Get comfortable," he called over his shoulder as he headed towards the driver's seat, his voice devoid of any warmth or compassion.

You watched him go, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. As you sat alone in the van, surrounded by the remnants of your life that he had taken from you, the reality of your situation began to sink in.

He wasn't just taking your belongings. He was taking you.

With a heavy heart, you realized that you were now at his mercy, trapped in a situation you couldn't escape. And as he started the engine and pulled away from the cabin, leaving everything you knew behind, he turned to you with a chilling smile.

"You're mine now," he said quietly, his words sending a shiver down your spine. "And you're not going anywhere."

[romana-after-dark]

Cry Harder

Dark!Joel Miller x fem!reader

Masterlist : Taglist (NEW TAG LIST)

A follow up to Keep Cry'n, but you don't need to read it to read this. But you do need to read the warnings lol.

For my event, Dead Dove December which is still open until January 1st, and there's no sign up! Plenty of time to join <3

Summery: While keeping you captive, Joel's sex drive is insatiable, and the sex seemed to be never ending. You tried to warm him you needed to use the bathroom... he didn't listen.

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. Non con. Piss kink. Dacryphilia. PIV sex, oral f!recieving. Smoothing via pillow. Threat of murder, threat of necrophilia (Joel's just trying to scare her.) little smacking. Degredation, daddy kink.

Immersabilty: Reader is fem.

1k works

A/N: I'M BACK!!! I'll chat a lil more in the notes at the bottom and be sure to read the housekeeping but thanks for sticking around <3

You don't have to like piss kink but don't make fun of me okay lol

Support writers! Reblog and comment

******************************

“That’s it baby, cry harder”

As if you had much of a choice. Joel had you here for 2 days by this point, and the man was fucking insatiable. He had explained to you, not that you asked, that he goes in and out of “shifts”, essentially. For a few weeks, he raids and stocks up on all he needs. Then, if he’s got somewhere decent to stay, he’ll take a pretty girl for a week or so and just go insane on sex, food, and any drugs or booze he could get. You were well fed at least, and sometimes Joel let you take a few hits of weed or sips of alcohol to numb you, but other than that he wasn’t giving many mercies.

It had been hours at this point, no refractory period except sometimes to go have a smoke, but 5 minutes later he came back hard and thrusting into your swollen lips.

You were exhausted, spread out naked on your back as Joel knelt before you, thrusting. You just wanted it to be over, sobbing into the pillow you pulled over your face.

“Awwww, little babies embarrassed? Wassamatter, little baby, don’t want me to hear you moaning again?” Joel taunted you with a laugh. He liked laughing at you. He did make you moan, that was the embarrassing part. Joel wasn’t necessarily trying to make you cum, but he did get giddy and gleeful when the stretch of his cock was enough to make you orgasm.

You weren’t entirely sure that’s what was happening right now, but something was off. “Joel…” You whine into your pillow. “My stomach hurts…”

“Why -thrust- the fuck -thrust- do I care?”

“It feels funny…” You hoped maybe he’d stop if you were sick. Not that he cared about your well being, but rather he wouldn’t want you getting sick all over him. Or maybe he was into that. 

“Just shut the fuck up and -mmmph- just fuck’n take it. Always fuck’n whining like you got a hard job.” Joel smacked a tit, making you whimper and clench down.

Then you realized what the feeling was. “Joel, I gotta- MPH!”

Joel shoved the pillow into your face. “Tired of your fucking voice. ‘Joel I need this, Joel I need that!’” He mocked you in a high pitched voice. “Just shut the fuck up before I smoother you and use your cold pussy instead. Bet the rigor would tight’n you up a bit.”

Fresh tears wet your pillow as you wriggle, trying to keep quiet. You needed to pee. Or maybe you were going to cum. Joel had gotten you pretty drunk this time and his dick jamming into your cervix made everything a little hazy, but you needed to pee, and you needed to pee BAD. Still, the struggle to breath was the first concern. It wasn't cutting off all your hair, but it was getting difficult.

You tried to warn him, but Joel simply kept the pillow over your mouth and he filled you up again and again, thick cock stretching you so far you weren’t sure how you were supposed to be any tighter, but men were never satisfied. The pressure continued to build and suddenly you were very confused; was this an orgasm, pee, or both?

Joel was growing erratic above you, and you wondered if he got off, if this would be it for today. You tried to hold it back, never wanting Joel to have the satisfaction, but the combination of the feeling and Joel in your stomach were too much. Unconsciously, you let go.

Joel stops, not pulling back enough to pull out but enough to see you and you release the warm liquid onto him as you cum. “Oh shit” He chuckles. “Did you squirt?” You remove the pillow the your face to catch him looking at your sore cunt as the liquid isn’t stopping and he realizes what was happening. “Ohhhh fuck!” He says gleefully, thrusting into you with renewed vigor.

“That’s it baby, piss on my cock, ooooooh yes, fuck yes, pee on daddy’s fuck’n cock, mmmmm god, gonna- fuuuuck, gonna cum, gonna cum in daddy’s little piss baby.”

You cover your face with your arms as you cry, sensitive as all hell from cumming hard as you relieve yourself, humiliated but knowing he’s close. Just gotta power through.

Huffing, Joel pressed his hand down on your lower stomach, pushing out more pee as you yelped.

“Goooood DAYUM!” Joel shouts loud in your ear as he cums inside you, filling your tired pussy with his cum.

Joel falls on top of you, laughing, his heavy weight nearly as suffocating as the pillow was. A light chuckle turned louder as he laughed harder and pulled away. As Joel pulled his cock out of your soaked folds, he was all but cackling, derangement in his eyes as he looked at the disaster that was the shitty bed you slept on.

“Such a messy girl…” He eyed your cunt, and you whimper. Joel didn’t go down on you. This was for him to get his dick wet, nothing else…

But soon, his mouth was between your legs, lapping at the mix of cum and piss and sweat between you two, his beard a rubbing irritant against your puffy skin. “Such a pathetic little girl” He muttered between breaths, rutting himself against the bed, and you knew he was hard again. “Fuck’n weird, can’t even keep from making a mess of yourself” He growls, licking you clean. “Fuck’n- ohmygod- fucking disgusting little piss Wh-who-oooooremmmm.” Joel came against the bed, just as you were about to come again, and pulled away.

You can’t help the way your body wriggles as the “Nooo” You whine, ever so quiet. You hated how much he made you want him sometimes. 

Joel giggles, awfully pleased with himself. “Nah, baby, I’m done with you for now. Maybe next time you’ll learn to appreciate when I give you this cock.” 

Butt naked, Joel exited the room, telling you to clean yourself up. “You smell.”

*************************

TW depression, skip to the bold for romana housekeeping

I havn't posted much outside an occasional Blessed Be the Fruit and if you follow my main, you kno why. This semester has been incredibly hard on me, a genuine deep depression i han't experienced in a long, long time. It was awful. I nearly hospitalized myself a few times and I should have but I am american and not insured. I was not safe, and was a danger to myself.

Yet, somehow, I managed to get my course work done and I finished the semmester on friday ;-; now i have 2 weeks approximately off from work which isnt ideal but hey, traveling and shit. Then for about a month I'll be working back at day care again before coming back for second semmester soooooo im hoping this free time will allow me to catch up on writing and reading

Housekeeping

As linked above, this is for my event dead dove December! It's for the Oscar Isaac/ Pedro Pascal fandom, and we got so many fun entries including lots of Joel, some triple frontier (santi AND frankie) William tell, and soon some Jack from mojave, rydall keener and more!! Would love for you to join me! if you dont wanna write but like dead dove, search #deaddovedecember2023 I didn't realize at the time there was a similar event for the bucky barnes fandom but they have the same hastag, so if you like bucky, check them out too!

Also, i'm gonna be working on a new series once Blessed be the Fruit and a few on my main end, a dark!triple frontier. Check out the coming soon info, and comment if you'd like a tag!

Be sure to join the new tag list, as i changed my tag options just a little!

@m0nster-fvcker @miraclesabound @fandxmslxt69

[milla-frenchy]

Firestarter (SMBU part 3)

4k7 | Joel Miller x fem reader x Tommy Miller x Veracruz Chapt summary: a guard you don't know comes to visit you Warnings: 18+ mdni. dark. dubcon (captivity, threats), dirty talk, dvp, gangbang, degradation, knife play, praise kink, oral (f/f, m receiving), violence, a little blood, ass play, light rimming, slapping, spanking, unprotected piv, creampies Writer chose not to use all warnings. If you need to know before you read, DM me a/n: Thank you Kate @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog for the ideas, and for beta-ing me as always 💕🫶🫶 The Prodigy - Firestarter | playlist | ao3 | series masterlist

Main masterlist | Part 2

****************

“That’s it baby. Fuck her with your tongue” Joel said, as he was thrusting into you from behind.

He had been fucking both of you since the beginning of the evening, and you had already cum several times. Sometimes he would pause to watch you two kiss, touch, lick each other, while he was lazily jerking off, before starting to fuck one of you again.

She was lying in front of you, her thighs open and her pussy dripping, and you were never tired of pleasuring her, whether with your fingers or your tongue.

She was holding her breasts and moaning. Sometimes her fingers would squeeze your hair, before going back to caress her breasts. You knew she was playing with her body and mind, making her orgasm approach and then slow it down, and you couldn't help but smile as your tongue delved into her as deep as possible. You lapped at her hole, from which little wetness flowed, you were so greedy to lick everything from her. 

Sometimes you lingered on her clit with the tip of your tongue. And sometimes you lapped all the way to her ass, lingering on her tight ring. Very quickly, you had wanted to lick and caress every inch of her body, and you couldn't get enough of it.

You often slept together, and regularly Joel, Tommy or one of the guards would wake you up at night. Her presence reassured you, and made things easier. Although overall, everything was going “well”. According to Joel's rules.

Joel’s hands were clinging to your hips and you heard him moan louder and louder. He slid his hand up to your clit and stroked you.

“I want you to come. Both of you.”

You slipped two fingers into her pussy, fingering her the way she liked it. Night after night, you got to know her body, her sensitive places, the ones she didn't react to. You learnt how to do it, wanting to please her when both of you had sex.

Your lips hovered over her clit before you sucked it gently. Then your tongue played with it, swirling it under your tip. Without realizing it, you were applying the same rhythm with your tongue that Joel was applying with his fingers, on your clit.

You did your best to still concentrate and make her cum. She was moaning, and said “Fuck me with your tongue, honey.”

You stuck your tongue in her pussy and she started to caress her clit with her fingers. You looked at them, the way they moved, and you were captivated by her gestures.

You felt her pussy tighten around your fingers.

“I’m gonna come baby… I… Fuck… fuck yeah.”

You came to lap at her clit, mixing your tongue with her fingers, then, one last time, you pushed your tongue into her pussy to drink it all, taking everything from her. Her spasms became less frequent and you let your pleasure rise. Two minutes later you were cuming under Joel's fingers, your eyes still fixed on her pussy and on her stomach which rose and fell to the rhythm of her breathing.

“Lie down,” Joel said, pulling out of you.

You lay down and couldn't help but turn towards her and kiss her before rolling back onto your back. Joel looked at both of you, standing against the bed and jerking off quickly, hand clenching his shaft tightly. He looked from one to the other, and came, his jaw clenched, the ropes of cum hitting your two bodies.

Before leaving, he told her that the next evening she was going to the usual house, and that she would meet Tommy, two other guards, and him there.

The next evening, after she left, you heard the door open and then footsteps on the stairs. A guard you didn't know came into your room. Thirties, brown hair, very light beard. Piercing gaze. He was wearing tactical clothes.

“I’m Veracruz. Ever heard of me?”

“No I haven’t. Should I have?”

He didn’t answer.

You stared at each other without saying another word for a few moments before he asked, “What are you waiting for? Get on your knees.”

Ok, you weren't in a 5 stars brothel, but his attitude was different from what you had dealt with so far.

“Um…Joel isn’t with you?”

He pointed his arm at the bedroom door, turning to face it, as if your stupid question required no other answer.

You got down on your knees. He moved closer until his crotch was a few inches from your face and with a nod he motioned you to unbutton it. You did as he wanted and pulled his cock out of his pants. It was thick, long. Two big veins on the same side.

“Why are you staring? Suck it.”

Given his attitude, there was no point in taking your time, you dropped your saliva on his cock and started to suck him, while jerking him off with one hand.

Quickly, he placed his hands on either side of your head and fucked your mouth. Not so much that you would choke on his cock, but quite roughly. You looked up at him, trying to catch his eyes, but his head was tilted back and his eyes were closed. Suddenly he stopped his movement, holding you against him and pushing his cock further into your throat.

“Keep it in”, he said, his eyes on you this time.

He released you and you coughed, trying to catch your breath while holding your throat. When you glanced up, he was smiling, looking at you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you asked him.

“You’re just a slut who’s here to get fucked, did you forget or something?”

“Not… not like that. There are rules.”

“Mmmm sure. And deep throats aren’t allowed?”

“Yes… yes they are. Of course but…”

“Okay so stop whining, and take it once again. Stick out your tongue.”

You obeyed, and he placed the tip of his cock on your tongue, enjoying its movements towards your mouth, then pulling it back. He leaned down and spat on his cock, stopping to watch his saliva drip into your mouth.

Despite his unpleasant demeanour, you found him hot.

“Get on all fours, now.”

You got yourself on your hands and knees. Veracruz did pulled your panties aside and spread the folds of your pussy.

“Are you acting prude while you're wet como una puta?”

Before you had time to respond, you heard metal brush against fabric. By the time you were wondering if he was holding a knife, he grabbed your panties with one hand and cut the fabric with the blade.

You tried to get up but he grabbed your hip. “It’s just a knife, baby. I like things a little… spicy.” He threw the knife on the bed.

​He grabbed his cock in his hand, rubbing the tip against your folds, soaking it with your wetness. He stroked his cock several times and you felt that you were getting even wetter, with his head rubbing your clit. Finally, he rested his cock against your entrance and pushed. He grunted as he thrusted into you. He placed both his hands on your hips and began to fuck you.

“That’s good. So good. Your pussy’s good.”

He was fucking you thoroughly, and you forgot about the knife.

He was giving it to you so well, actually, that you accompanied his movements and began to fuck yourself on his cock, stretching your ass back to hit against his hips.

“What a slut… you like it, huh?”

You moaned without responding, and he pulled your hair.

“Fucking answer me when I ask you a question.”

“Yes! Yes I like it.”

He released you and started fucking you harder.

“Fuck! Such a whore. You take it good, damn.”

His attitude and the way he fucked you made you melt. You couldn't help but moan, louder and louder. You liked his roughness, the way he spoke to you.

Each stroke threw you forward, and with each stroke he squeezed your hips again so that you impaled yourself on his cock, and you followed his movements with pleasure.

He pulled out of you, and commanded, “Turn around now. On your back."

You did as he said, and he jerked off, looking at you, kneeling on the bed, before grabbing the knife again.

“Let’s play a little bit, okay?”

"What do you mean?" You tried to keep your voice steady.

“Just to test your sensitivity.”

He lay on top of you and placed the blade against your throat. You tensed up and he said “Stop fidgeting. I know the rules. Do you think I'd do something to piss Joel off?”

You relaxed. He was right. He was probably just a little more “playful” than the other guards.

He ran the blade from one side of your throat to the other, before moving up to one of your ears, without taking his eyes off you. He smiled when your hairs stood up.

He then slid the blade down to one of your breasts and then your nipple. You looked at him, transfixed, when he put his mouth on your nipple and sucked it. He was doing it well and you moaned. He stood up and picked up his knife again, placed it at your sternum, and slid the blade down. He placed the tip of the blade on your navel, cutting you slightly. A bead of blood appeared and he leaned down to lick it off.

“Sorry, baby,” he said.

His behavior excited you and the adrenaline drove you crazy. You squirmed on the bed, waiting for what was going to happen next.

“You want my cock?”

You nodded.

“Ask for it then, slut.”

“Give me your cock. Fuck me.”

He smiled and said “Joel found a damn bitch….”

He placed the knife on the nightstand, took off his shirt, keeping his pants on, and lay on top of you, pushing his cock into your pussy in one stroke.

“Fuck!”, you said.

He licked your skin from your collarbone and your ear, before coming to bite on your earlobe.

He whispered in your ear, “Fuck… it feels good to fuck a pussy that doesn’t smell like piss.”

You froze, and he grabbed his gun from the back of his pants. He pointed it at your temple.

“Who… who are you?”

“I’m one of the guards of the shithouse. And I'm tired of always fucking the same two bitches. So from time to time, I'm gonna come here and fuck you. And you’re not gonna say anything to Joel, or anyone, because I guarantee if you do I’ll open your smile from one ear to the other.”

You watched him telling you this, as he thrusted in you again. He put the gun down and gripped your throat with his hand, stopping his hips movement.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?”

You nodded and he grabbed your chin.

“Fuckin answer me.”

“Yes! Yes I understand.”

“That’s better. Now I’m gonna fuck you, like I wanna fuck you. I'm afraid I'm not gonna be very gentle. And you're gonna shut up, okay? I like when bitches scream, but unfortunately I can't attract too much attention with you. You understand?"

“Yes,” you replied.

"Good."

He thrusted into you suddenly and you screamed.

“You’re cute,” he said, chuckling.

His cock was sinking into you and despite the situation you couldn't help but feel pleasure. He knew exactly how to fuck you. He asked you to get on all fours again, plunged into you, and spat on your ass, dragging saliva with his thumb.

“No! No please…”

“Mmmm…  It’s sad, but I can't fuck your ass today. I don't have time for that and I can’t hurt you. Now come on, you remember what Joel wants, don't you? He wants you to cum. I don’t really care, but we have to respect the rules, right?”

He pressed a little more on your ass with his thumb, and you had a hard time relaxing.

“I won't stop until you cum. So if you want it to end, you know what to do.”

You bent your elbows to rest on your forearms, and you began rubbing yourself. He slowed his movements and went less deeply. You focused on your body, and he felt your pussy starting to contract and said “what a slut. You’re gonna cum on my cock after I threatened you with my gun 5 minutes ago.”

Your pussy clenched, and you came hearing his words.

“Yeah… just like that. What a fucking whore. It’d be cool if you joined the shithouse. You know that's what's gonna happen if Joel finds out you let me fuck you, right?”

You froze when you heard him.

He kept pounding you, his cock going deep with each stroke.

“Maybe he'll beat the shit out of me as an example, but you'll end up covered in piss and cum from morning to night.”

“No please… don’t tell him…”

He grabbed one of your breasts and pulled you up against him, continuing to fuck you as harder as ever.

“Then I guess you’ll have to let me fuck you, each time I want to, and how I want to.” He released your breast and pushed you forward again, forcing you to support yourself on your hands. He slammed into you with one hard thrust, bottoming out, and staying buried inside you for a few moments.

He grabbed the gun and slid its barrel down your spine, up to your ass. He pressed the muzzle against your ring, his left hand still clinging to your hip.

“I’m gonna cum… fuck…”

He pulled out and spread your ass cheeks, placing his tip against your ass. He jerked off and came against your ring, and said “mmmmm…next time.”

He stood up and you collapsed against the mattress.

Before leaving, he told you “Remember, if you don’t want to end up in the shithouse, you keep your mouth shut.”

That night, you slept with the sheets tight against you, hoping no one would come. Nobody came. You didn't know what to do after what he told you. The next day at breakfast, she tried to talk to you but you had difficulty maintaining the conversation. A few days passed without anyone coming. You and her slept together a few times, but you didn’t fuck. Several times she looked at you thoughtfully, but you said nothing to her.

A guard came to pick you up a week later, to take you to the house. Joel and Tommy were there when you arrived.

“It’s been a while baby, I missed you”, Tommy said, holding you close against him, his hands gripping your ass. You felt better, his body against yours. You were used to him, to Joel, and their familiar presence reassured you.

“We’ll wait for him before we start, Tommy,” Joel said.

“Yeah I know, I know. But I wanna fuck that pretty pussy, man”, he said smiling and spanking you lightly before releasing you.

The door opened, and Veracruz entered. You turned to Joel, trying to keep your surprise to yourself.

“Who… who is it?”

“A shithouse guard. He's getting a little impatient there. He’s a good guard, so I figure he deserves a little reward.”

“Are you and Tommy gonna stay?”

"Yeah. Veracruz is the nervous type. I don’t want him to damage you”, he laughed.

Veracruz smiled as he looked at you and you felt panic overcome you. You were afraid that Joel would find out what happened and send you to the shithouse.

“Are you ok? You look a little pale”, Veracruz smirked.

Joel looked at you and asked if you were okay.

"Yes, yes. Sorry. I didn’t know the shithouse guards could… fuck us.”

“You have to give rewards from time to time, baby. Now go get undressed and lie down.”

You began to undress, trying to stop the anxiety that kept building. You felt your heart beating quickly. Way too fast. You were afraid that Joel and Tommy would realize something was wrong, that you already knew Veracruz.

You felt the tears welling up and you narrowed your eyes to stop them, as you unbuttoned your blouse then took off your pants. You grabbed the hem of your panties but Veracruz said “no, keep them. Go lie down.”

You realized that your eyes were glued to the floor as he spoke, and you forced yourself to look at him before going to lay down on the bed. Veracruz followed you and took out his knife. The same he had already used on you. You looked at Joel, scared. He just nodded, looking at you.

“Spread your thighs”, Veracruz ordered.

He dragged the blade against the hem of your panties, just below your belly button, and yanked upwards, tearing the fabric in one swipe. Your thighs clenched, as your stomach shook with fear. Not scared that he would hurt you per se. Scared that you could no longer contain yourself, no longer pretend that it was the first time you met him. And then what Joel would do with you.

He slid the blade under the fabric again, and tore it a second time, almost all the way to your clit.

“Ok that’s enough. Put the knife aside now”, Joel said.

“Sure boss”, he replied. 

He grabbed your panties and tore them in half with his hands, then he unbuttoned his pants and spat into his hand. He jerked off quickly and laid on top of you, thrusting in without waiting for you to get used to his girth. You held back a cry as you bit your lip, your fingers clenching on his biceps, trying in vain to stop him from sinking too far into you.

“Ah, fuck, that’s good.” 

He started to thrust into you, his cock hitting your cervix painfully. 

“This pussy’s not too stretched. Not like the ones I usually fuck. We really damaged those”, he laughed.

“This pussy’s perfect, man. And she’s such a slut, always ready to take it, right baby?” said Tommy, who had come closer. He didn't wait for you to respond, and slipped his cock straight into your mouth.

“Yeah, just like that. You’re a natural born sucker baby.”

Veracruz was leaning on his forearms, thrusting into you and watching Tommy’s cock slip in and out of your mouth.

“Yeah, such a whore, ready to take any cock, in any hole. Aren’t ya?”

You didn’t answer, trying to concentrate on Tommy’s member. Trying to think about something else rather than Veracruz’s length deep in your core. Tommy placed his hand on your cheek and said: “that’s it baby, keep going. You’re so good for my cock. Love your mouth. You know I do, right?”

You nodded and let Tommy impose his rhythm, he was using your mouth the way you liked it, and his praise was turning you on, as always. You were getting wetter and wetter, and the sounds of Veracruz's cock in your pussy couldn’t hide it.

“I wanna assfuck her, Joel”, said Veracruz, and you came back to reality, suddenly pulling your mouth away from Tommy. Your legs tightened beneath Veracruz without you being able to help it, and you looked at Joel, then at Tommy. You couldn’t make out what Joel was thinking, but Tommy was clearly surprised by your reaction. He turned to his brother, while Veracruz continued to pound you.

“Nah. Wanna try something new with her”, said Joel. “Get on all fours, and ride Tommy.”

Veracruz pulled out and stood up from the bed, visibly annoyed, as Tommy slid under you. Joel unzipped his pants, and you started to relax again. You have been used to both of them for several weeks now, and even though they were rough, your brain and body have accepted it.

Tommy grabbed his cock with one hand and rubbed it against your folds. He pressed his dick against your entrance, put his hands on your hips and thrusted into you. Veracruz started jerking off while looking at you. You threw your head back at the sensations of Tommy’s cock spreading your pussy, as you impaled yourself on it. You loved feeling it inside you, feeling that cock you knew well by now. Joel moved closer to the bed and Tommy grabbed your neck. “Suck my brother’s cock,” he said, as he turned your face towards Joel’s dick. You took it into your mouth, letting him sink in. He growled and pinched one of your nipples. You looked up at Joel as he fucked your mouth, one hand resting on the back of your neck. Tommy lay almost motionless, and you rolled your hips on his cock.

“That’s it baby. Fuck yourself on my dick. You’re so pretty, your mouth full of my brother’s cock.” Once again, Tommy’s praise was turning you on, and you tilted your pelvis slightly to rub your clit against his lower abdomen while continuing to suck Joel.

“You’re gonna make yourself cum baby? Look at that, Tommy, she’s using your cock like a perfect whore.”

“She always does, huh? Such a good slut for these cocks. And this time, she has three real cocks for her, capable of fucking her for more than 2 minutes.” You moaned, hearing them talking about you as if you weren’t even there. Both brothers laughed thinking about the guard who always had fucked you badly, while Veracruz continued to jerk off. You felt your arousal rising even higher and you kept grinding yourself against Tommy. Your moans were increasing, and Joel withdrew from your mouth.

“That’s it, baby. Come on my brother’s cock. You’re doing great. Soak his dick with your juice.”

As you were cuming, you let yourself go forward on Tommy's torso, and Joel knelt behind you, positioning himself at your entrance, against Tommy's cock already buried inside your cunt. You felt him push and you said “Joel no, that’s too much!” Tommy held you against him, preventing you from turning around.

“Shut up, you’re drippin’. You’re gonna take us both, relax”, said Joel.

He placed his hand on your back to press you completely against Tommy’s torso and he thrusted in slowly, gripping his cock firmly with his hand. You felt your pussy spreading apart around this second cock sinking inside you, tears in the corners of your eyes.

“You’re gonna do it, baby. You’re the best slut we’ve ever fucked,” Tommy said in your ear. You didn't know if he said that because he thought so, or because he knew it would make it less painful. Joel had his eyes fixed on his cock, as he thrusted into you, inch by inch.

​“Breath baby… It’s ok. Oh fuck that’s good”, added Tommy.

Joel reached all the way down and grabbed your hips, holding you completely down on those two cocks deep inside you. The feeling was so strong that you wondered if you were going to pass out. You felt your eyes roll and Tommy slapped you lightly so you could come to your senses.

“Hey, baby, what’s goin’ on? These two fat cocks are too much for you?” He and Joel laughed and Veracruz added “damn…you’re tearing that bitch apart.”

Joel started to pull back and you groaned. Tommy grabbed your chin to force you to look at him.

“The best pussy I’ve ever fucked. And we fucked a lot of them.”

Joel thrusted in again, faster. He said “Veracruz, come get your dick sucked.” Veracruz immediately moved closer, pushing his cock into your mouth.

Both brothers were thrusting into you, Tommy moving slowly, while Joel held back less and less. You were trying to suck Veracruz off as best you could, considering your pussy being spread wide by the two members.

“Ready to take my place Veracruz?" asked Joel. "Ain’t gonna last, that pussy’s squeezin’ me so fuckin’ hard. I’m gonna fill her up.”

“Who are you askin’, man”, the guard replied.

Joel grunted, thrusting in 3, 4 more times, and he came deep inside your pussy, his fingers digging into your hips. He finally pulled out and you moaned. You felt the mattress rise, with Joel's weight off, then lowering again as Veracruz settled in behind you. He grabbed your neck with one hand, and guided his cock into your pussy with his other hand in one go, helped by Joel's cum leaking out.

“Can’t believe you can fuck that bitch day and night”, said Veracruz, pounding in you.

“I’m gonna cum baby. I’m gonna shoot my cum in your fuckin’ pussy,” said Tommy.

He turned your head to the side, to make you look at Joel, and said “every time I fuck you, it makes me even harder when I think about the cocks your holes can take.” He gave you a hard hip thrust, and came deep in your pussy, mixing his cum with Joel's.

Veracruz pulled back slightly to let Tommy get up off the bed, before thrusting in again, roughly this time.

Joel said “Tommy, let’s go.”

You shouted “NO!”, afraid that Veracruz might hurt you, without Joel and Tommy.

He grabbed your hips, as all three stopped when they heard you.

“Why don’t you want to stay with him?”

“I…I don’t know. I’m not comfortable with the idea of being alone with him… He doesn’t have the same rules.”

"Sure he does know the rules well. Right, Veracruz?”

“Of course, Joel.”

“See? No problem.”

“Please, Joel…” you pleaded. Veracruz started fucking you again, oblivious to your worry, and Joel and Tommy left, leaving the door open.

“My turn, bitch.”

He spanked you, and sank in, his hand fixed on your neck, forcing you to keep your ass up. Grunting at each thrust.

“You’re so full of cum, fuck, it turns me on.”

He grabbed his knife and pressed the blade to your throat, still pounding you hard.

“What are you gonna do, now that you’re alone with me?”

“You can’t hurt me. They’d know.”

“Yeah, but I can still have a little fun with you.”

He thrusted in you slower, and moved the knife lightly from under your chin to your ear.

“I can’t wait to come fuck you in your bed.”

You were paralyzed, already afraid of the moment he would come into your bedroom. Afraid that Joel would  know.

He dropped his knife, pulled your hair, and added, “I really can’t wait to fuck your ass, baby.”

You heard his breathing speed up, until he came deep inside your pussy as well. He spanked you one last time, pulled out and buttoned his pants. Before leaving, he whispered in your ear, “See you next time, baby. I can’t wait.”

You got dressed, trying not to cry. 

When you came out of the house a few minutes later, all the guards were in the yard. Veracruz had blood running down his chin, and Joel was standing in front of him.

He shouted “shithouse guards, fuck shithouse girls. Unless I allow them to fuck one of the other girls.”

He pulled a revolver from the back of his pants, pressed the muzzle to the guard’s forehead and shot Veracruz with no warning. You covered your mouth with your hand, horrified, scared of what would happen to you.

“At least, he got laid before he took that bullet”, he laughed, looking at Tommy.

“My women, my rules!”

The guards left, and Tommy told you to go back to your bedroom.

A few minutes later, Joel joined you and leant against the door.

You murmured, “How did you know?”

“Your girlfriend said you didn’t wanna fuck her. That you seemed sad and tense, she was worried. I talked to some guys. Someone said Veracruz was smug, a few days ago. Your attitude earlier confirmed what happened.”

“Why did you let him fuck me today?”

“To teach you a lesson. You should’ve told me.”

“When I understood he was one of those guys, he said…” you stopped talking.

“What did he say?”

“He said if you knew I had let him fuck me, you’d put me in the shithouse as a punishment.”

“Well obviously that was bullshit. Don’t ever hide something from me anymore. Got it?”

You nodded.

“This pussy’s mine. I allow some guys to fuck it, but it’s mine. All the pussies are mine, here. If a guy doesn’t respect that, he’s dead.”

He left.

Part 4

**********************

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[tommysversion]

Beastly: Raider Era Joel Miller x Reader (Part 1)

Summary: you live in a small commune protected by a strong force of raiders. Every season, your people pay tribute for their protection. After lapsing in payment, your abusive father offers you as a human sacrifice. What you don't expect is for the leader of the gang, Joel, to not be as much of a beastly man as first thought.

A Raider Era Joel fic, loosely inspired by Beauty & The Beast.

CWs: references to abuse (physical), implied fear of SA, canon typical violence, implied age gap, sexual references, coarse language, smut for later chapters. (List will update with chapters)

Chapter Word Count: 3k

Thanks to @gab-thelamb-onthemoon & @joelsgirl for being beta readers & allowing me to infodump about this idea, ILY

Index: Part 2

It’s amazing, how long it took society to peak, in comparison to how easily it fell apart. Rome wasn’t built in a day, but it sure burned in one. In a short fifteen years, since Cordyceps first spread globally, society has all but collapsed. 

Oh, sure, there are the QZs, where FEDRA rules with an iron fist. There are smaller settlements where people try to strive for a semblance of ‘normality’. 

But mostly? The world outside the military strict QZs has become lawless. It’s kill or be killed, serve or rule, protect or intimidate. 

Whereas some people have banded together for the greater good of humanity, for the continued survival of the species? Others have taken advantage of the new order of things, are only out for themselves and those they hold dear. 

Joel Miller falls into the latter category. 

Maybe once, before the outbreak, he had been a good man. Had had a strong moral compass, a good ethic. He’d been a family man, loved his daughter and his brother more than anything or anyone in the world. 

Then the world had gone to hell, taken his daughter from him, and something inside him had broken. It was as though a light had gone out inside him, turning his humanity off. 

Gone was the man who had made jokes and smiled easily. In his place was a man scarred and traumatised, who was capable of enormous acts of violence and brutality, who would survive at any and all cost, not for his sake, not really, but for his brother. The only family he had left. 

Joel had always been a natural leader, if somewhat reluctant. It had come easily to him, before the outbreak. He was always the damn union rep on site. Always the one people came to for advice, looked to for leadership. Not just Tommy, or colleagues he’d known for years either. He always ended up with an apprentice following him round like a chained puppy, asking questions, looking for guidance. 

Maybe it shouldn’t be a surprise at all that he had ended up the leader of this band of people, either. Some were misfits, those who were too anxious to try and venture to the nearest QZ and survive under FEDRA. Some were miscreants who preferred the more lawless lifestyle, who needed a leader so they didn’t venture into abject cruelty. Then there were those like him, who just wanted to survive. Keep going for whatever or whoever they had left. 

Joel didn’t necessarily want to live, but he was fucking good at it. 

Without his humanity, it made him a damn good leader. His group protected several small settlements, in exchange for supplies. Weapons. Whatever the fuck they wanted. 

It was a good deal… for his people. The infected didn’t venture this far out anymore, but the good people in those settlements didn’t need to know that, did they? Their living in fear was his bonus. It kept them in line, and it kept his people alive. 

Recently, one of the settlements fell to disease. Leaving just the one small community under his group’s thumb. The occupants aren’t particularly tough, or particularly smart, just ordinary people who have had the luck to survive behind moderately well constructed walls, the wits to bow to those stronger than them for protection. 

Only, their resources are running out, spread thin with the approaching winter…

Which is where you come in. 

--

You’re old enough to remember the world before. Maybe you hadn’t been an adult, so you hadn’t had to deal with things the older folks in your community grumble on occasion about missing - work, taxes (mostly something called a tax return), good liquor, supermarkets… 

But you do remember. 

You remember the world changing overnight. Remember years of struggling, clawing for survival, until this commune had finally put its walls up and hoped for the best. 

Then the infected had come, and you’d lost half your numbers. The raiders had taken advantage of the weakness in your people, taken out the infected… for a price. 

Now each quarter, your people paid ‘tribute’ to the group of men and women who kept the infected at bay. Really, it was a bribe to keep them from taking over your settlement. Every three months the same half dozen men would show up, fill their truck with supplies and weapons your people had gathered, desperately needed, and promise another three months protection for it. 

Nobody’s been attacked since the deal was struck. You guess that’s a good thing. Or there’s something they aren’t telling you. 

Your father is the closest thing to a mayor your community has. There aren’t enough of you to need a proper governing body beyond a handful of people, but somehow the task of leadership has fallen to him. Perhaps because nobody else wants to be labeled as the one who bows to the raiders. Or maybe it’s because the last mayor your town had was beaten to death by said raiders for non-compliance, and your father was the only one brave (stupid) enough to volunteer for the job after.

You aren’t stupid. You know a bribe for what it is. Only this quarter, you aren’t sure what the plan is. 

The crop yield has been relatively scarce this season. With winter approaching, the settlement doesn’t have much to offer. You’re not stupid, but you know it won’t be enough. 

Usually, you stay home when the raiders come for their tribute. Stay inside with the few children of the commune. 

This time is different. Your father is lacing his boots, throwing on his threadbare coat, when he springs it on you. 

“You’re coming too, this time. We need to show our numbers.” 

It doesn’t occur to you until you’re halfway to what passes as the town square that that’s the precise opposite of what your father usually says. That a show of strength is what got his predecessor killed. But you know better than to question him; he won’t shout at you, he’ll just be condescending, or more likely, won’t answer you at all.

You suppose your curiosity will have to wait, and hope he doesn’t get you all killed.

--

Joel usually sends half a dozen of his people to collect the tribute from the settlement they ‘protect’. It’s a thinly veiled intimidation, closer to extortion than anything else, but it keeps his people fed and lets them bully others, which some of his people need. 

But the last two seasons, their offerings have been slim at best, pissing the most restless of his people off. Joel has no issue with violence. No issue with killing people, or intimidation. But he also knows that starting a bloodbath in their supply settlement is a stupid idea, even if some of his men don’t. 

Which has led him to here. Two men sit in the truck, shoulder to shoulder. One sits in the tray, gripping the roof bar with one hand, a rifle dangling lazily from the other. 

Two others ride beside him, a little behind, in an arrow formation. It didn’t bother Owen to stay behind with the rest of the group. There’s better things he could be doing. If anyone was surprised at Joel deciding to go with them on this run? He hasn’t heard a word of it. 

If anything, they probably think it means he’s planning some sort of punishment for their friends in the settlement. Hell, if they don’t pay up? He’s not against it. 

It never ceases to amaze him just how pathetic these people are. He hasn’t visited the settlement personally in a year or so, but the occupants are still just as miserable. Just as downtrodden and fearful, hiding behind their shitty tin walls and the hope that his folks will protect them. It’s that fear that keeps his people fed, keeps these townspeople in line.

They don’t need to know that there are so few infected out here now, that Joel and his group are probably the biggest - if not only – threat remaining to them. Fear keeps them in line, and if they step out of line? Well, he and his gang aren’t above beating a reminder into them. It’s happened before.

The truck rolls to a stop behind him as they make their way to the centre of the settlement. He dismounts his horse, steps forward to greet the leader of the place. He’s met this man once before, the season after he took out the old mayor for trying to defy him. Beating a man to death isn’t pleasant to witness, but Joel had no problem with committing the act.

His replacement is a small, round man who always wears the same threadbare overcoat, the same twitchy air of nervousness around him, the same oily obedience.

How a man like that became what passes for mayor, Joel has no idea. He’s just as spineless as the rest, just as cowardly, eager to snivel and beg for protection, offering up whatever it takes to save his own skin. It’s a way to live, Joel supposes, but he would never stoop so low.

“Morris.” Joel greets the other man with a cold nod of his head, reaches out a gloved hand for him to shake. All formality. All pleasantries. As if the six men he’s brought with him aren’t capable of gunning down this entire settlement, if he so chooses. Hell, he could probably do it by himself. 

“I’m surprised to see you.” Morris admits as he steps forward from the small group of townsfolk. Joel’s gaze sweeps over them all; a few new faces, his eyes boring into each unfamiliar one. One bears a resemblance to the mayor. Interesting.

His gaze leaves the crowd, returns to the man in front of him.

“We need to have a little chat.”

--

“You don’t say a word. Nobody will benefit from your attempts at being a diplomat.” Your father cautions you as you reach the centre of town. It’s not a long walk. The settlement is barely big enough to call a commune, but still.

You don’t dignify him with an answer, just nod. There’s no point in trying to argue with him, try and prove that you’re an asset. He’s too set in his ways, too firm in the belief that women – especially young ones- should be seen and not heard.

So instead you keep your mouth shut, take your place. Watch the convoy come in. It’s different, being out on the street rather than peeking out a window when they roll in.

The usual truck, two men in the cab, one in the tray, slapping the roof to signal to stop. You’re not familiar enough with their faces, but you assume they’re the same men who come every quarter. Two men on horses, flanking a third.

It’s the third man who interests you, only slightly. Mostly because of the way your father tenses, the way some of the others shift nervously. You vaguely recognise this man; the leader of the group of raiders. The one who had no problem with violence, with getting rid of the old mayor when he didn’t want to play ball.

He’s older, maybe late forties, broad shouldered and has a sort of deadened glint to his dark eyes. Vaguely, you catch yourself wondering what he did, or what happened to him, to put that look in his gaze.

Those cold dark eyes take stock of the place, sweep across each member of your community. His gaze pauses on you, very briefly, flickers to your father then back, recognition. Then he looks away, back to your father.

“We need to have a little chat,” the unknown man says, “your quota has been low, Morris.”

Even in the cold, you can see your father start to sweat. He’s no great hero; his leadership perches precariously on his willingness to bow to whatever this gang of raiders wants. There’s no way of fighting them, and quite frankly? There are worse things out there.

“We’ve had a hard few seasons… Maybe we can make it up in spring?” Your father suggests, trying to sound complacent, apologetic. Mostly, it just sounds desperate.

You wonder if the leader of the gang thinks so, too.

“Now, Morris, you’re already short. Have been for the last two seasons. Maybe if we’d had this little chat earlier, I’d be more inclined to accept the request, but, well… winter’s on its way. It’s hard out there, and these walls you have are so flimsy… anything could happen.”

Your father’s face blanches, clearly aware he’s stepping on toes that shouldn’t be stepped on.

“We have… some supplies in reserve. You can take from there.”

It shouldn’t even surprise you, that he offers up the town’s emergency stockpile to save his own skin, probably thinking of his predecessor. It bothers you, though, makes your skin crawl to see the men from the gang open the barn where the supplies are kept, start hauling them into the back of the truck. Those supplies are for emergencies. For the children, the elderly, the sick. Maybe that’s why you open your mouth.

“Those supplies are for our elderly. Our children.”

The look your father gives you is piercing, promising violence, a sharp retribution later, but you don’t care.

“Excuse my daughter, Joel. She doesn’t understand the way things work, likes to talk when the men are talking.”

You expect the gang leader – Joel – to agree, to ignore you. Instead, he turns that depthless gaze onto you.

“What would you have me do, hm? We have a deal, you know that.” It’s unspoken what he’s implying – he has people relying on him, too.

You’re smart enough to know that it’s a rhetorical question.

“Besides.” Joel turns his attention to the truck, shakes his head. “Even with your stockpile, you’re short. Considerably so. Maybe we should stick around. See why your productivity is so low.”

The threat is implicit. Maybe it’s the threat. Maybe it’s anger at you for speaking out. Or maybe it’s the simple fact that your father is a piece of shit. Still, you don’t expect what happens next.

--

Joel doesn’t want to stick around this small town, with its cowed population and snivelling misogynist of a mayor. He’d rather take what they are owed and go, but they’re up short once again. Not by much, but it’s the principle of the matter. Of making sure Morris knows his place, knows that he and Joel are in no way equals.

He projects the very image of an alpha male, broad and cocky, one hand resting on the pistol at his hip. Casually threatening, and he knows Morris is thinking of the idiot before him. Maybe he should just shoot him, see whether someone smarter replaces him. Smarter and less irritating.

Maybe the other man can see how easily he’s contemplating his death.

“Wait. Wait. I have another offer.”

Joel raises an eyebrow.

“And what could you possibly have, Morris? As you’ve said, you’ve had a difficult harvest, you’ve had to break into your emergency supplies. What do you possibly have to trade to save your own skin?” He makes zero effort to hide his disgust.

“Her.” Morris jerks a shaky thumb to the younger woman beside him, the one who’s clearly his daughter, the one who spoke up.

Joel is so startled by the suggestion that he almost outright refuses.

“What?” It comes out blunter than he planned, as if he’s misheard. Because there’s no way that this idiot is offering up his own daughter as some sort of human sacrifice.

“Take her. I don’t care what you do with her, she’s a complete disappointment. Maybe you can teach her some manners, beat her into submission, God knows I’ve tried. Take her and give us immunity until next fall. Let us rebuild our crops.”

Joel looks past Morris to you, small and nondescript. Then again, everyone is small to him. You look like someone’s just pulled the ground out from under you. Shocked. Horrified. He knows then what you’re thinking, what you’re assuming will happen to you. But he also knows now what happens to you if he leaves you here.

Joel Miller may have lost his humanity, but he was a father once. And he can’t imagine ever, ever offering his own child up as a human sacrifice to save his own skin.

And suddenly, it doesn’t matter about making a quota. What matters is getting you as far away from this place as possible. Away from sharp words and balled fists. Because somewhere, somewhere, buried deep down, a portion of the man he once was is stirring.

“The end of next fall. A year.” Joel agrees, tries not to watch the way Morris shoves you forward to what could well be your doom.

You’re shaking. Can’t even form a protest, for all the good it would do.

Sacrifice. Tribute. Offering. As if you’re no more than another object to be traded. Your father doesn’t even flinch as Joel seizes your wrist, pulls you towards his horse.

“Get on.” His voice is low, but not menacing. If anything he sounds almost sorry. It has to be some sort of trap; you’re certain that when you’re back at their base camp, he’ll have no problem with cruelty, with putting his hands on you. Forcing you, if the mood takes him. Maybe it’s better to just do as he demands.

Shakily, you climb up onto the horse, sit awkward and uncomfortable, tensing when he swings himself up behind you, broad arms keeping you in place as he seizes the reins, gives a nod to his men, who finish loading up and pile back into the truck, onto their own horses.

He throws a final derisive look to your father. The man who sold you.

“One year, Morris. Better get your shit together.” Then he nudges the horse, and rides you both out of the only home you’ve known for years.

[anama-cara]

The Healer: Bargaining finale (part 5/5)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4. Joel Masterlist

Raider!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: You finally reach the doctor's house with Joel and your sick little brother and you show Joel your appreciation. Reader's thoughts in italics. Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: 18+ mdni, sickness/fever, age gap, unprotected PIV

a/n: I wasn't sure how to end this. At first I had a much darker ending but I decided that I liked these characters too much so I added some *feelings*. Please let me know what you think

You had awoken to the sounds of birds chirping and soft breathing. Joel’s arm was draped over your waist and his hand rested on your stomach. It was pleasantly warm. In your mind you pretended that you were sleeping next to someone who actually cared. You imagined it was real. That you could have a companion that loved and protected you, that you could wake up like this next to them in the mornings. It was a nice daydream, but just that. That kind of dream didn’t exist in this new world, nothing good survived. And you certainly had no hope of finding a good man like that to love you.

Joel’s arm twitched in his sleep and you were pulled from your daydream and into your memories from the night before. How his lips felt on your neck, how his hands felt on your body, how his voice sounded as he said your name, how his fingers felt inside you.

For a moment you keep your eyes closed to the world and sink into the comforting feeling. Listening to the songbirds, letting the first rays of sunlight filtering through the tree dance over your closed lids, feeling Joel’s chest rise and fall against your back. You draink it all in, you hadn’t experienced a moment this peaceful in a long time.

There’s a rustle from the sleeping bag across the fire and you jump. Shit. What are you thinking?

You remind yourself that this is Joel, the leader of the band of raiders that terrorizes your countryside. He is not a good man, even if he is helping you, which he really isn’t, this is on just his way.  Suddenly you feel shame, you can’t believe that you let him make you cum, let him hold you, sleep beside you. You curse yourself for being so foolish and letting yourself go last night.

Sleeping beside a fucking criminal, a bully, a killer. A fucking menace. What the hell were you thinking?

You wriggle out of the bag and jump to your feet. To your relief your little brother just rolls over, still sounds asleep. You let out a breath.

“Scared of getting caught?” Joel’s voice is rough with sleep but you can hear the smile on his lips.

“Come on get up,” you kick him in his sleeping bag. “The sun is up we gotta go.”

“Ok bossy,” he grumbles as he rubs his palms over his eyes with an exaggerated yawn.

You wake up your brother as Joel packs up the camp and you’re heading out for the last leg of your journey before the sun is fully risen.

---

You’d been diligently following a few yards behind Joel, carrying your brother in your arms. He seems to get weaker with every step. In the last mile he doesn’t even respond to you when you call his name. He’s just limp in your arms and you can feel his fever burning through his clothing. You make a desperate sound as you try to shake him awake.

Joel’s head whips back. “What’s wrong?” He turns and retreats back to you.

“He won’t wake up,” your voice trembles as you’re trying not to panic. You hold back the tears that threaten to brim over.

“Jesus sweetheart why didn’t you say somethin.” He moves to take the boy from your arms but your grip tightens.

“What are you doing?” There’s fear in your accusation.

His eyes rack over your face, reading your expression. “You don’t trust me,” he says flatly but his expression almost looks hurt. He takes a breath and a hard expression returns to his face. “We gotta move a whole lot faster. If you don’t want him to die we gotta get to the house and get this fever to break.” Joel takes your brother from your arms and you don’t fight him this time. He takes off in a jog and you run after him, trying to keep up.

--

The house looks similar to yours, farmhouse style with a big front porch. Its white paint is peeling and there are a few cracked windows on the top floor but in all its still in good condition. As you come up the dirt drive you see a thin man in his late 60s watching from the window. After he sees the boy Joel is carrying, he disappears from the window only to reappear in the doorway. He sets his rifle down on the table and comes out onto the porch to meet you.

“Joel,” the man gives a stiff nod in greeting. His eyes dart to you then back to Joel.

“Doc,” Joel gives a nod. There’s respect but no friendliness there. Joel dips his head in your direction, “This here’s one of your neighbors, and this is her little brother. He’s got a bad fever and needs your help.” The doctor narrows his eyes at you and Joel, but when he looks down at the child in Joel’s arms his expression softens. “Of course, bring him in.”

You follow the him inside and Joel sets the boy down on the couch. The old man looks at you, “I’ll require a payment of course. What supplies have you brought to offer?”

“What I don’t, I-“ you stammer in a panic but Joel interrupts you.

“You and I will discuss payment later. You help him first.”

The man’s gaze shifts from you to Joel, he pauses a moment then nods in agreement. “Very well. But if he needs antibiotics the price will be doubled. Upstairs.”

Joel carries your brother upstairs and sets him in the bathtub. “Out,” the doc instructs him then turns to you. “You, undress him and fill the bath. Lukewarm. We’ll try to bring his temperature down. I’ll go get him a glass of water, we need to keep him well hydrated.” You tend to your brother for hour before the fever finally breaks. You help dress him and carry him to a bed in one of the guest bedrooms on the top floor. You go to sit beside him but the doc shoos you from the room. “No, he needs rest, out, out.” Exhausted you return downstairs and plop down onto the couch.

You must have been drifting off because you’re startled when the cushion sinks as a weight sits down next to you.  

“Doc is gonna give him some medicine, says he’s got pneumonia. You didn’t hear him coughing?”

You blink, quickly trying to gather your thoughts. “Umm, yeah, I did, I just thought it was part of a cold, you know cause its winter, I mean he always starts coughing when it gets colder. I didn’t think much of it, I was just thinking of his fever. I should have paid more attention.” Your voice tightens.

“No, sweetheart that’s not what I meant,” he trails of looking frustrated then leans back into the couch. “Doesn’t matter, it’s gonna be fine, he’ll get better now.”

“Joel, how much did he ask for? He said the medicines were expensive.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“But-“

“I said don’t worry about it. I took care of it.”

You swallow, “thank you.”

His head turns to look at you, and eyebrow raised in surprise.

Tentatively you reach out and lay a hand on top of his, trying to express your appreciation. “I’m serious Joel. Thank you.”

The corner of his mouth twitches and he turns to face forward again. He lets out a sigh and leans his head back into the couch, closing his eyes and casually relaxing. You’ve never seen him like this. “Doc also said the boy needs rest so we’re gonna stay the night and leave tomorrow. Said we can sleep upstairs in the other guest room down the hall. I think he likes ya’ never seen him so generous before.”

You blink. We? “What about your mission? I thought you were supposed to meet up with your men today for a job?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “They’ll assume I got held up. They can do it without me.”

“Joel if you need to leave-“

He opens one eye to look at you. “There’s no place I’d rather be right now sweetheart.”

You swallow and gather some courage. “Joel,” you say hesitantly. “Why are you helping me? Why tell us about the doctor, why escort us, why pay for the medicine, why be… nice to me?”

He turns to face you fully now, his hand strokes your cheek then returns to grip your hand. You instinctively tense and go to pull your hand away but you stop as his eyes lock on yours. “Don’t you get it sweetheart?”

“What?” you reply a bit breathlessly. His eyes are making you nervous.

“I care for ya.”

You feel your heartbeat quicken and you’re silent for a moment as you let his words sink in. What the fuck?

“I know, I’m sorry for how we first met, I shouldn’ta done that, but-“

“Y-you care for me?” You can barely get the words out.

Joel shakes his head. “I shouldn’ta said nothin.” He moves his hand from yours. “No, wait-“ you reach out and grip his retreating hand. Why are you holding his hand? Why is your heart aching? Why do you want him to stay?

But despite the thoughts running through your head your body is acting. You shift closer to him and your hand that reached out to hold his is now slowly moving up his forearm in a gentle caress. Joel closes his eyes for a moment at your touch. You silently urge him to continue.

“Sweetheart I know I fucked up. You were so good to me and I didn’t treat you right. I know I don’t deserve ya.” He is looking into your eyes now, desperation in his eyes. “But I swear I wanna do right by ya. I wanna be there for you, protect you, be with you.”

You don’t break away from his gaze as you move closer still. You’re just inches away from him, almost touching his chest as he stares down at you.

“I want you” he whispers.

And finally you speak the truth that you know is in your heart. “You already have me Joel.”

Your hand glides up his arm and presses against his hard chest as you lean forward to press a gentle kiss to his lips. It’s tender and sweet and like nothing either thought you’d ever experience again in this fucked up world.

You lift your body from the couch to move fully into his lap now, straddling him. Your hands wrap around his face and you lean into him, deepening the kiss and pushing him back against the couch. His hands grip at your hips and you can feel his bulge underneath you. Instinctually you rock your hips into him and he groans in your mouth. You break the kiss and nip at his neck before sliding out of his lap and onto the floor between his feet. You kneel between his legs and look up at him, one hand rubbing circles over his knee. He’s looking down at you, slumped in the couch. You smirk as you watch his tummy rise and fall with each heavy breath. He spreads his legs more and you shuffle closer to him on your knees.

A wicked smile curves on his lips, “You gonna show me just how grateful you are now? This how ya thank me?”

You nod vigorously and reach out for his belt just as you hear the floor creak upstairs. You jump up and throw yourself onto the couch, lounge back and trying to act casual. Joel lets out a barking laugh at the panic in your eyes. “I didn’t know anyone could move that fast sweetheart,” he laughs as he pats your knee. Your heart is beating fast, you completely forgot there was someone else in this house. You were about to suck Joel off in the middle of someone else’s living room while they were just a few rooms away and could walk in at any moment.

Joel smirks and grabs your hand, pulling you up. “Come on.”  He leads you up the stairs and down the hall to the guest bedroom. “Goodnight doc, see you tomorrow,” he calls out loudly then winks at you as he shuts the door and pulls you towards the bed.

He pushes you down with his hands on your shoulders. He stands before you, tall and strong, dark eyes looking down at you and you feel yourself start to get wet. He reaches for his back and grabs his flannel, pulling it off over his head. Quickly he undoes his belt and drops his boxers and jeans in one go. He steps out of his pants and stands before you, completely naked, looking like a freaking god. You’ve never seen his body before, usually he tells you to strip and he remains fully clothed. This new imbalance has your blood pumping and your core clenching. You gulp as he closes the gap between you and scoops his hands under your arms to lift you and push you all the way up onto the bed. He lays over your body, face just a few inches above yours, dark eyes scanning yours. His hand reaches down between you to undo your pants and he pulls back for just a moment to pull your pants and underwear from your body. You take this opportunity to quickly shed your shirt before he’s back over your again. He rests on his elbows and his hands come up to cradle your face, fingers intertwining in your hair as his lips crash into yours, desperate and needy and hot. You whimper against him and he pulls back after a moment.

“Joel I need you, now.”

“Sweetheart I don’t wanna hurt you again. Lemme help stretch you first, get ya ready to take me.” His hand reaches down, trailing over your skin as he moves down your body.

“Joel, I’m ready now.”

His hand moves between your legs and he grins as his fingers reach your wetness. He rubs against your clit with two fingers. “Yeah you are. So wet for me already, fuck.” He plants a kiss to your neck, sucking at your soft skin as his other hands wraps around his cock and guides it to your entrance. You suck in a breath, tensing as you brace for the pain and the stretch, used to Joel shoving into you. But this time he doesn’t. He takes his time, slowly pushing into you inch by inch, letting your body adjust. He groans, fully inside you and you can’t help looking down between you. You watch as he moves his hips and slides in and out of you easily. He catches you staring and smirks, “like that? Want it faster sweetheart?” You nod, unable to speak, and he jerks his hips, hitting something deep inside you causing your head to fall back into the pillows. Your back arches as he sets his new pace and you groan. It doesn’t take long for you to feel your orgasm building. Your hands are gripping the sheets and you’re shaking your head and moaning as it takes over you. Your body spasms under Joel’s and he holds you down with his forearm across your chest. “Fucking bronco, hang on sweetheart I’m almost there.” He continues thrusting into you as you come down from your high and after a few more deep movements he’s spilling inside you, warmth spreading through your core. His breathing is ragged and he collapses on top of you, bodies flush against each other. He tucks you in his arms then rolls both of you to the side so he’s lying behind you, cradling you in his arms.

He kisses your hair from behind. “So fucking good.” He murmurs.

You lay together like that for a long time until your both starting to drift off.

“Joel, I-, I”

“I know sweetheart, everything will be just fine now.”

You smile to yourself as you drift off, comforted by the idea that for the first time since the world fell apart you think the next day will be a better one.

[picassopedro]

Not me just finding out jrrmint deactivated :(

So upsetting as she was one of my favorite writers on this app.

If anyone knows her personally, I hope they can pass on how much she will be missed and maybe let us know that she’s doing okay as that’s the most important thing <3

[toxicbrothel]

I often think about this scene 😵‍💫

Joel is quiet for a few seconds, then asks, "What if I told ya to suck his dick?

"No!"

"You'd say no to me?"

"I'd ask if I really have to."

I'm sure it will never happen but what if Sweet pea dreams about it👀

500 words, dark!Joel x you x dark!Carter

Kate, you menace 😫🫶 Thank you for enabling me. I think about this too. Source of quote. Technically, it's a bit of a nightmare. CW dark

You don't wanna think about Carter that way, but you can't help it after Joel mused about you sucking his dick. It was a test, just a test, but he put the image in your mind and it's what you're thinking of when you drift off to sleep. . .

😴💤💤 You're sitting in Joel's lap, facing Carter across the breakfast table. You're in a dress with no panties, impaled on Joel's cock. He’s slowly moving you with his massive hands on your hips. “mm,” he sighs as you lean back. He nibbles at your neck.

Carter quietly sips his coffee. There's something different about Carter. Not just his black eye. Joel pulls you back hard, nudging your cervix and you gasp. You brace your hands on the table. Carter winks at you.

Joel brings his lips to your ear. “Whatcha think, sweet pea?” His hips lift you. “Wanna suck his dick?”

Your face catches fire and your heart races. “No,” you claim.

Carter puts down his coffee, chuckles, and stands up, revealing a massive bulge in his sweatpants. He palms himself as he comes around the table, and your walls twitch around Joel at the sight.

“Don't lie to me, baby,” Joel murmurs. He grabs your tits and pulls you back against him.

Carter squeezes between you and the table. He pulls down his waistband. You're full of Joel’s cock, staring at Carter's gorgeous length as Joel’s hips move under you.

“Just a little kiss,” Carter whispers. “If ya want,” he winks.

You shake your head no but your walls squeeze around Joel’s cock again.

“Don't say no to him,” Joel cautions you. “You wanna, don't ya?”

It's a trap with no way out.

Precum is beading at Carter’s tip until he swipes it away with his thumb. He brings his thumb to your lips and you kiss the salty liquid off.

“Good girl,” Joel whispers. “Just a lil kiss that's all.”

Joel’s chest nudges you forward. Carter sits on the table and spreads his knees. His balls are big, too. His pubic hair is soft looking. Just a tad redder than his scruff. Joel scoots the chair forward and you moan at the jolt of his cock.

“It's ok,” Carter whispers.

You brace your hands on his thighs and he holds his cock for you. Another pearl of precum is forming. Before he can wipe it away, you lean forward and kiss it off. Your lips gently seal around the top half of his tip and your tongue darts out against the slit.

Carter groans.

Joel pulls you back by the hair and your heart skips a beat. He holds you against his chest with one arm while he reaches into the waistband of his pj pants and pulls out a pistol. Carter is sitting calmly with his cock in his hand like he knew it was gonna happen. “Sorry, sweet pea,” Carter mutters apologetically. Joel cocks the hammer, and you wake up.

[limerence4u]

these are giving hunter joel…. the outbreak started a few months ago and joel has resorted to doing anything to survive…. 👀

📸: @ / gabedoesvp on tw*tter

[lumoverheaven]

Here are some doodles I made for @toxicanonymity ‘s raider! (I depicted myself as Sweet Pea)

Pt. 2

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

[toxicanonymity]

Pre-tlou Joel being part of a raiding group, coming across reader, and Joel claiming her for himself. Possessive non con 🥵

Raider (Original)

800 words, dark!Joel Miller x f!Reader

RAIDER MASTER LIST | joel master

WARNINGS - NSFW I8+ Noncon (via implicit threat) unsafe PIV, pet names and praise, oral m, dark, posessive. Joel can pick reader up. Obviously do not condone these things irl.

"Drop her," he booms at the men who are dragging you kicking and screaming as they bicker about who goes first. "Now."

"Relax Miller, there's plenty to go around," one of the guys says and beckons him to join. "Ain't that right, sweetie?" The man adds, lifting your chin with the butt of his rifle.

Miller raises his gun. "I said drop her." They don't. Miller fires a warning shot and they finally do. "Tired of you rookies," Miller says. "Show some respect."

"Yes sir." The men compose themselves and disperse.

Relief washes over you. He's saving you. You're going to get out of this unscathed. You stand up and begin to hobble away, sore from being smacked around.

Miller trains his gun on you. "Don't you fuckin' dare."

You raise your hands in surrender.

"Good girl, now c'mere."

You hesitantly approach him and he throws you over his shoulder. He carries you back inside, into a bedroom, and throws you down on an old mattress. Another man approaches and stands in the doorway. He tells Miller "Oooh, nice find." The man starts unbuckling his own belt.

"Did I say I was sharin'? Go do your goddamn job." He aims his gun at the man. The man gulps, buckles his belt, and scurries away. Joel closes the door behind him and locks it.

-

"Alright now, sweet pea." Miller unbuckles his belt. The blood drains from your face.

"Be a good girl and this'll be over quick, okay?"

You nod. At least there's only one of him.

He palms himself over his tactical pants then takes out his raging erection. It's imposing. You're afraid.

His boots thud as he approaches the mattress. He looms over you. "Now, you're gonna suck this cock and you're gonna like it, understand?" He strokes himself and his brow furrows as he looks at you.

You nod.

"Cause you don't want me passin' you to those guys, trust me."

You nod as tears prickle your eyes. You get up on your knees and take him into your mouth - not all of him, it's impossible, but you try. He puts his hands on the back of your head and fucks your face.

This can’t be over soon enough, but you also can’t deny a feeling growing between your legs. Having his cock in your mouth makes you tingle. It’s so hard, and his precum tastes nice and salty.

“Look at me,” he demands. You don’t want to look him in the eye, so you focus on his messy brown hair. It’s nice.

“Doin' great, sweet pea. Now do me a favor and pull down your pants.”

You take him out of your mouth and wipe the slobber off your lips. He half-smiles with a twinkle in his eye and strokes himself as you pull down your pants.

“Where do you want it, sweet pea?” He squats down and fingers you. Your cheeks burn when he smiles at your wetness. “This one?” he asks and enters you with two fingers.

You nod. It’s preferable to the alternative.

“Alright, you want it like this or you wanna turn around?”

You still don’t want to look him in the eye, so you turn around on all fours. He yanks your pants off to make room for himself between your legs.

“Good girl,” he says. He kneels behind you, then you feel the smooth head of his cock at your entrance. He plunges into you about half way with a grunt, pulls back a little, then plunges forward again, bottoming out with a throaty sigh. Your eyes well up in tears, but your body welcomes the intrusion.

“Damn, you’re tight,” he says as he fucks you, hands on your hips, pulling you back with each thrust. “Good thing I kept ya all for myself. They would’ve ruined this pretty little hole.” The tip of his cock pushes a special button inside you with each thrust, and you begin to unravel.

He’s quiet for a minute, save for his grunts. His grunts turn into moans, then you feel him twitch inside you.

He pulses violently, his large hands jerking you back into him as he pumps you full of hot cum. His pulsations send you and you groan as your own climax is pulled from your depths, contracting on his cock.

“Well damn,” he says when you’re both finished. “It’s a good day for both of us.”

He pulls out and you collapse onto the mattress. He comes around and looks you in the face and you look up at him with watery eyes. He cups your cheek affectionately and reassures you he’ll guard the room for you until everyone’s loading up to leave.

-

6 month note: Thank you so much for reading! I know this is old by now, but I still really appreciate your reblogs and comments. 🥹🖤 when I start to recognize raider superfans I try to follow.

You can follow @toxicfics and subscribe to notifications.

[survivingandenduring]

Every time I listen to this song I think of @toxicanonymity Raider Joel considering his feelings for sweetpea so I made this.

The track is Lose Control by Teddy Swims

[romana-after-dark]

Then and Now

For my dearest @toxicanonymity and her Raider Joel, the piece that inspired my most popular series to date.

Then. Right after Joel carved his name on her skin after she tried to escape. She’s still scared and confused a lot of the time, unsure if she’s making the right move. Joel is emotionally closed off, but as he sleeps, he looks at the exposed cuts and wonders if he did the right thing. It was for her own good, wasn’t it?

Now. Sweet Pea is happy, collared, taken care of. She has friendship with Carter, and even though Joel still holds a lot of secrets, he’s opening up bit by bit. Here, Joel is buckling her shoes after dressing her (and maybe fucking her on the table 👀) and Carter watches (after the fuckening is over), happy that she’s happy now.

(Used the Boyd Holbrook faceclaim instead of Garrett Hedlund lol sorry Garrett stans)

Toxi, thank you so much for this amazing series!!! And for being my friend *cue golden girls theme music*

Hope it’s not too shit ass of a drawing I literally used crayola pencils 😂😂 also I cannot for the life of me draw Joel properly even in my silly doodles so enjoy just some scruffy looking nerf herder meant to be him okay 😂 also I can’t draw hands or feet so I usually tuck them away or draw circles shhhhhsh

[joelmillersblog]

Can somebody help me find a Joel miller fic?

Reader turns up at Jackson and Joel miller falls in love with her and she earns his trust. He helps her learn to shoot a gun but it turns out she is a raider and her boyfriend and group are going to break into Jackson but Joel finds out he’s going to shoot her but let’s her go. I read it such a long time ago and I’m not good at explaining

[tommysversion]

Beastly: Raider Era Joel Miller x Reader (Part 2)

Summary: you live in a small commune protected by a strong force of raiders. Every season, your people pay tribute for their protection. After lapsing in payment, your abusive father offers you as a human sacrifice. What you don't expect is for the leader of the gang, Joel, to not be as much of a beastly man as first thought.

A Raider Era Joel fic, loosely inspired by Beauty & The Beast.

CWs: references to abuse (physical), implied fear of SA, canon typical violence, implied age gap, sexual references, coarse language, smut for later chapters. (List will update with chapters)

Chapter Word Count: 3.3k

Tag List: @serenaxpedro @miller--trash @joelsgirl @gab-thelamb-onthemoon @mydailyhyperfixations @dreamingofdaddydin @luvrking @msecho19 @koshkaj-blog @hufflepuffriver @yunonaneko ( & anyone I've missed)

Index: Part 1 /

It’s not a terribly long ride back to the raider commune, another small town that barely counts as a town that’s been repurposed. 

Trenches surround it. A few men and women with rifles on makeshift guard towers. Honestly it’s not much different to home. Your heart jumps when you remember this is your home now. For as long as Joel decides to keep you alive. 

You still can’t get a read on him. The entire four hour ride was spent mostly in silence, but when he did speak, it was to ask your name. Ask a few questions. You wonder if he’s trying to remind himself that you’re a human being, rather than just an animal, a sacrifice. 

“Quiet as a mouse, aren’t you?” He’d said finally, then laughed softly and muttered something about that suiting you more than your actual name. 

Joel doesn’t like using your name. The idea makes you more human to him, and he already feels stupid for accepting a goddamn human sacrifice to pay the debt your home owed. Mouse it is. It gives him the sense of ownership, of control, that he needs in all manner of things. 

He’d been almost polite in helping you down off the horse before turning you over to a man who vaguely resembled him. 

“My brother, Tommy.” He’d said by way of introduction, then sloped off to oversee the unloading of the truck, leaving you standing next to the younger man with no idea what the hell to do next. 

Luckily, he doesn’t seem to know what to do with you, either, so you just stand there awkwardly together until Joel seems to notice you again, comes over. 

“Christ, Tommy, let her freeze to death? You take over the unloading, I’ll take her.” 

You follow him automatically, towards one of the houses, wondering vaguely if he means to take your fathers advice and beat you into submission. Or worse. 

Somehow, you don’t think so. He’s been cold, sure, the entire ride back, but you don’t get the feeling that he’s planning on doing anything sinister to you, which is strange. Raiders have a reputation, after all, but he doesn’t give off the violent rapist vibe that some have. 

He unlocks the door, leads you up the stairs to a small bedroom. It has a bathroom attached. Pleasant. Nondescript, though it has the air of not being lived in. 

“Make yourself at home,” Joel is aware of how monumentally stupid the sentence is, but he says it anyway. 

“Am I confined to this room?” You ask, still not daring to look at him, in case it makes him snap or something. You’re used to that sort of thing. 

“No, the entire house - minus my room, or Tommy’s, of course - is free game. I wouldn’t leave the house without one of us, for your own safety. You’re welcome to explore the house. One of us will come and get you when it’s dinner time.” 

Then he turns around and walks out, leaving you standing there feeling confused. You’d been bracing yourself for violence of some sort, and now it hasn’t come? You’re not sure what to make of it. 

You can hear his heavy boots on the stairs, the front door slam behind him, the bolt locking into place behind him. You’re not stupid enough to consider trying to make a run for it; a four hour ride is even longer on foot, and in this weather? It’s a death sentence. Besides. The retribution for trying to escape would probably not be pleasant, and while you’re not exactly eager to go back to your father, you don’t want the other people from your settlement to be punished because of you. 

So fine. You’re stuck here. 

You may as well explore your new cage. 

The bedroom isn’t too bad, actually. Double bed, the mattress not uncomfortable. Thick blanket, even if the pattern isn’t what you’d choose for yourself, the main thing is you won’t freeze to death. 

You hope there might be a change of clothes somewhere, something in the drawers of the dresser that might fit, but the drawers are empty. You hope Joel won’t make you wear the same clothes you have on down to rags, but you’re not counting on it. 

The carpet is old, but not uncomfortable under your feet. 

Then there’s the bathroom. Small, compact, but still functional. You know there’s still plenty of house to explore, but you’re also aware you’re going to be locked in here for an indefinite amount of time. Exploring can wait. You’re exhausted, and the bed is comfortable. A nap won’t hurt, surely. 

If he was going to hurt you, he’d have done so by now. It’s not very comforting, but it’s all you have, and it’s enough to lull you into an uneasy sleep. 

—

“Jesus fucking Christ, Joel, what the fuck?” 

Tommy is never usually this vocal with his older brother, and it surprises them both. Still, it’s a fair question. 

“The man’s a misogynistic piece of shit, I couldn’t just leave her there. Chances are if I’d refused, I’d go back next season and he’d have beaten her to death. Made it her fault.” 

“Oh, so we’re saving people now?” Tommy raises an eyebrow. It’s a cheap dig; he knows why Joel does what he does, why he is the way he is. 

Maybe it’s not fair to be a sarcastic bastard, but then again, he hadn’t expected Joel to come back with a human sacrifice, for fuck’s sake. 

Joel sighs. Pops open a beer. The kind one of their men makes in a keg in his garage. It’s still fucking good, because beer is beer, even after the end of the world. 

“Look, she’s harmless. I’m not gonna lay a hand on her, and neither is anyone else in this little community.” Joel says it firmly, with enough authority that Tommy believes him. 

Pretty much anything goes in their group. Violence is to be expected. But any sort of violence against women, especially sexual, is punished by death. 

“Maybe she can make something of herself here.” He continues, before he stands and checks on the food that’s cooking on the stovetop. “In the meantime, do me a favour? Try not to scare the shit out of her.”

Tommy snorts in spite of himself. 

“You’re the scary one, big brother.” 

There’s no bite to it, but there doesn’t need to be. Joel understands. Knows there’s a part of his younger brother that’s afraid of him. Maybe that’s another sacrifice he’s had to make. 

“Yeah. Well. I’m gonna go tell our new house guest that food’s done.” 

It’s his way of avoiding the conversation. Better to just leave, walk away, than open that can of worms. 

Instead he heads upstairs, towards what’s probably a completely different can of worms but still unpleasant. When he gets to the door that’s now yours, he hesitates. Should he knock? In reality, you’re his prisoner, disguised as a guest. No matter how polite he is to you, Joel is aware that you’ll probably always hate and resent him. 

Still, he isn’t sure what you’re doing in there, and there’s a part of him that’s still somewhat of a gentleman, so he knocks first. No answer. Well, he tried. 

He opens the bedroom door, finds you half asleep; the sight of him jolts you awake, and you startle, sit bolt upright. He can practically smell how afraid you are, almost hates himself for it. He has no intention of hurting you. No more than he already has by taking you from your home. 

“Dinner’s ready. Come and eat.” It’s not a request. He retreats again, stomps back down the stairs, pissed and unsure why. Maybe it’s the way you look at him. Maybe it’s the understanding of why you’re so fearful to begin with. Or maybe it’s just the fact that he’s feeling anything at all, after so long. 

—

You have two options. One, you follow the direction given and go downstairs to eat. That’s probably the smarter choice. You’re hungry, and you can smell hot food. You doubt he’ll poison you. 

The second option is you stay right here, make an attempt at defiance. That doesn’t appeal to you; you know that Joel has a temper. Has the ability to be incredibly violent at the drop of a pin. Tommy is a wild card, but you don’t like the idea of making enemies of the men you’re stuck in this house with. 

Still, you’re reluctant to drag yourself downstairs, having wanted more time to wallow in your own misery and misfortune. Unfortunately, the lure of a hot meal wins out, and you find yourself in a small dining room, seated at a plain wooden table with a few knife scrapes in the top, a bowl of stew in front of you. 

You’re almost surprised. You might have thought raiders, especially ones like him, would eat better. Steak or something. But this is simple. Carrots and potatoes and onions in gravy, with rough cut bread on the side. 

Tommy clocks your thoughts almost immediately. 

“What, you thought we ate like kings or something?” 

“I-“ you aren’t sure how to answer him; he’s a raider, sure, but there’s something about the way he avoids his older brother’s gaze that makes you warm to him a little faster. 

Maybe it’d be good to have… not a friend, but an ally? In this place. 

“It’s not poisoned. We have to eat too, you know.” Joel comments, without looking at you. 

You don’t argue, just poke at your food with your spoon until Tommy speaks again. 

“We’re just people. Even Joel, though he likes to pretend otherwise.” 

You decide to go right ahead and like Tommy, even if it’s against your better judgment. The casual way he says it is almost reassuring. Like you can breathe, your suspicions that Joel isn’t going to turn into a monster and lay hands on you reassured by the casual way Tommy banters with him. 

It’s like a small weight lifts off your chest, enough for you to stop poking at your food and actually eat it. 

Joel drinks, barely speaks the entire meal. When you’re done, Tommy collects the dishes, throws a sideways glance at Joel, who’s refilled his beer once again. 

“Go back to your cage, little mouse. I’m tired of you jumping whenever I move.” There’s a bite to his voice that wasn’t there before, fuelled by drink and whatever demons plague him. 

The way he says it unsettles you, your hands shaking slightly as you pass your empty bowl to Tommy. 

Joel is back to not looking at you, but as you leave the room, Tommy makes eye contact with you, and mouths for you to lock your door. 

—

Joel drinks. Heavily. He’s used to only having to deal with Tommy, who’s used to it by now. It doesn’t even occur to him that his intoxication, the way he’s sharper, colder in this state might scare you. 

Doesn’t even consider it until he hears you take the stairs two at a time, the sharp thud of your bedroom door closing. 

“That went well.” Tommy crosses his arms over his chest, surveying him. 

Joel doesn’t answer. He supposes he could go upstairs, unlock your bedroom door and try to apologise, but somehow he thinks breaching your privacy would make it worse. And besides. Why the hell does he care so much about scaring you? About apologies?

You’re nothing but a goddamn tribute. A human sacrifice handed over to him by a shitty excuse for a father. A mistake he shouldn’t have made, but now he has to live with the consequences. The consequences being your presence. 

—

You take Tommy’s advice and lock your door. Not because you think Joel will come upstairs and decide to hurt you, but because it makes you feel a little better. 

You can hear them arguing downstairs, at the very least, raised voices, but nobody comes up the stairs. Nobody breaks down your door. Eventually you can breathe a little easier, don’t have to consider locking yourself in the bathroom. 

Eventually you hear Joel’s heavy boots coming up the stairs, hold your breath again, but he goes right past your door, slams his own behind him. Shortly after, a softer tread that must be Tommy’s comes upstairs too, and another door closes behind him. 

Nobody’s going to hurt you. Not tonight, anyway. Nobody’s making you warm their bed, or using you as a punch bag. You’re alone, sure, but you’ve always been alone. 

At least this time you have a comfortable bed and a locked door. It isn’t much, but it’s enough to keep you from panicking, for now at least. 

— 

When you wake, winter sunlight is streaming through your window, creeping through the shutters without a singular care. 

Your clothes are a little mussed, but not dirty, so you suppose you’ll have to make do until one of the men notice and decide to find you a change. You hope to god they decide to. 

There’s no sign of either of them in the house; a few dishes in the sink, and a note on the table the only evidence that other people live here at all. 

Make yourself comfortable. Don’t try to leave the house. I will arrange new clothes for you today - J. 

“That’s friendly.” You mutter to yourself, then busy yourself for ten minutes washing the dishes. Joel might technically own you, but you still feel a bit guilty that he’s taking time out of his day to find you new clothes. The least you can do is wash some dishes. 

Hell, it won’t hurt to see what food is in the house, either, but you aren’t sure where to look, so you open pretty much every cabinet in the kitchen, taking inventory. 

There’s not much, which doesn’t surprise you. You assume whoever lived here originally left the place pristine or something, but it’s since been cleared out. The Miller brothers have done a decent job tidying the place, but it still doesn’t have that sense of being a permanent home. 

Maybe they planned on moving on at some point, but never got round to it?

You aren’t sure. Easier not to think about it, instead moving onto the next room. You can come back to the kitchen later, reheat the stew from last night. Maybe if you do little things like that, they’ll be kinder to you. 

It’s not that they’ve been cruel, or even really unkind. Joel is harsh, blunt, and seems cold and closed off, but he hasn’t been outright mean to you. Tommy’s been wary but friendly enough.

Perhaps it’s stupid, but you want them to be friendly to you. If you’re stuck with them for the foreseeable future, until you die or something… well, it’s not a crime to want to be friendly, right?

The next room holds a few more things of interest; a television, a stack of movies. Obviously there’s no live television anymore, but the Miller brothers have managed to salvage a handful of movies that you suppose they liked from before. 

Most of them are action movies, the occasional western that you presume is Tommy’s preference. Somehow it comforts you that there aren’t any slasher movies among the pile. Not that you’re naive enough to think that they aren’t killers. They’re raiders. You’ve seen Joel kill a man before. That they’re violent goes without saying, but somehow you think their brand of violence is purely to survive, not out of some psychopathic desire to inflict pain. 

At least. You hope so. 

Deciding not to dwell on that, you keep moving through the house, exploring room by room. The windows have all been reinforced, the place relatively secure. It’s surprising how easily you feel safe in this house, in spite of being a prisoner. Perhaps it’s because the house is big, compared to your old home. Maybe it’s the fact that you don’t have to jump whenever you turn a corner. 

You ignore the two bedrooms along the hallway with yours upstairs, as instructed. That’s not to say it isn’t tempting to peek; of course it is, but you’re a little afraid that they’d know somehow, and that it would make Joel angry. 

He hasn’t really given you many rules; don’t leave the house, don’t go in his room or Tommy’s room. Even if you are a prisoner, a possession, it feels rude to break those rules, so you stifle your curiosity and only open the other door. 

Bathroom. Boring. 

Heading back downstairs, you’re considering exploring the rest of the rooms off the downstairs hallway, but decide to save them for tomorrow. If you’re housebound, you may as well save yourself some excitement, or as close to it as you can get, for another day. 

—

Joel doesn’t really have anywhere to be. The group operates pretty well without him overseeing everything. If there’s a dispute, it either ends in a fight or they come to him. 

The spoils from yesterday are already being divided up, a few people out patrolling for more supplies, smaller weaker camps they can take out. 

Unpleasant, yes, but it’s survival of the fittest. 

His errand today has nothing to do with survival. Joel is well aware he’s brought you to the commune with nothing but the clothes on your back, and in spite of being, objectively, a terrible person, he feels bad for you. 

In retrospect, he should have let you at least pack a bag. But somehow, with the way your father offered you up like bait, Joel doesn’t think you probably had many possessions to begin with. 

The women in the commune are tough as nails, mostly. Survivors through and through, either by the skin on their knuckles or by giving themselves over to the men for protection. Joel doesn’t judge either way; he knows it takes a particular sort of grit to survive that way. 

While violence is rampant in the group, what with the testosterone and the high stakes of survival, nobody ever lays hands on the women. As a result, they’re kind, happy to help anyone new. 

It doesn’t take long to find clothes in roughly your size among the women. A few shirts, two new pairs of jeans. Newish boots. 

Impulsively, he trades a week’s extra firewood and a bag of jerky for a winter coat for you, too. It’s a deep purple, with a fake fur lined hood, long enough to reach your knees. 

He doesn’t know why, but it’s important to him that you’re not uncomfortable. At least, no more than to be expected. Besides, he’d rather you didn’t freeze to death. That would just be annoying to deal with. 

Or so he tells himself as he fills his pack with the clothes he’s found and traded for, before heading back towards the house. 

Usually, on trade days, he’d stop and grab a few bottles of beer, too, but he’s still a little embarrassed about how he behaved last night when intoxicated. 

It wouldn’t normally bother him, to be seen as scary and intimidating. Hell, it doesn’t. But there’s a small part of him that feels ashamed when he remembers how fast you bounded up the stairs and bolted the door. 

He’s not used to having anyone beside Tommy in the house, and frankly he doesn’t give a shit whether he scares his brother or not. Tommy knows everything he does is to keep them safe, to keep them alive. He doesn’t have to like it, just accept it. 

Having you react the way you did has brought him back to earth a little, and he doesn’t like it. The last thing he wants is a reminder that he’s human. So fine. He’ll give you the clothes, but that’ll be the first and last favour he does for you. 

Or so he tells himself.