Dark!joel Miller - Tumblr Posts

SO MUCH TO LOSE MASTERLIST - ONGOING

So Much to Lose - ONGOING

For readers 18+ only please!

summary:

Newly settled into Jackson city and forced to go on patrols with the miserable Joel Miller sets off a chain of events and encounters that have you questioning everything, including your own heart.note: Featuring Dark!Joel

story trailer

note: the gal in this is just a stand in, because the Reader is YOU in it.

Chapter 1 : Patrols

Chapter 2: The Doe

Chapter 3: You Make the Rules, Remember?

Chapter 4: Early Riser

Chapter 5: You still want this?

Chapter 6: Trapped Inside

Chapter 7: Spoiled

Chapter 8: Shoulder to Shoulder

Chapter 9: Repairs

Chapter 10: Rancher Street

Chapter 11: Snow

Chapter 12: Town Meeting

Chapter 13: Family Dinner

Chapter 14: Coffee Flavored Kisses

Chapter 15: Going Quiet

Chapter 16 : Will you tell me?

Chapter 17 : Pockets of Beauty - coming January 2025

Chapter 18: Useless

Chapter 19: Footprints in the snow

Chapter 20 - Looking Forward

Chapter 21 - Epilogue

EXTRAS

"Chapter 7 Joel" by @loveIvyxxx

Story MoodBoard by @angelbabysblog

Joel Miller Moodboard by @angelbabysblog

SMTL meme

So Much to Lose Chapter 18 PART 2

PLEASE READ: This is PART 2 of 2 for this chapter because apparently Tumblr wants to make my life a nightmare and won't let me post the whole thing in one. So please don't panic, PART ONE IS HERE.

Also important: TAGS AND WARNINGS FOR THE WHOLE CHAPTER ARE FOUND AT THE BOTTOM OF THE CHAPTER UNDER THE JOEL GIF. SCROLL THERE TO SEE ANY WARNINGS OR TAGS.

RATED 18+

And lastly... please review. This chapter is over 30K. It was re-written after laptopgate 2024. It is blood, sweat and tears. Please review, reblog, and COMMENT. Even if you're mad at me.

Chapter 18: Useless - Part 2

The day begins like any other.

You’re shivering with Charlotte slept against you, her tinier body snuggled as close to you as possible, her dirty hair pressed against your cheek. The two of you are chained to the large metal radiator in the corner. It clinks when you shift a bit. 

She's warm, which is a boon considering how cold it's been. You gaze down at her still slumbering face. You see the length of her lashes, the slack of her mouth. You notice the way her normally full cheeks have started to go hollow and the dark bruises under her eyes. You haven't seen your reflection in months but you can only assume you look similar. 

Muffled laughter begins behind the door and this startles her into waking. She yawns softly before raising her head. 

"S'early," she offers, seeing the sky outside the window is still dark. 

"Must be hunting today."  

The bedroom doors open and Red steps out, still talking to his wife Freckles. You never learned their names, never wanted to, but in your mind they're categorized by features. Beard and Ponytail arrive moments later, followed then by Smokey, the Raider who never stops smoking even when the air becomes acrid and you choke on it.

The entire group is suited up in their hunting gear, large guns strapped to their backs. Smokey goes to unlock the chains around both sets of wrists before tugging you both to a stand. You both learned early on that compliance was the only way to stay alive, although some days you don't know why you bother. 

Freckles helps you both into heavy jackets and your boots. You both stand, slightly wobbling.

"Toilet?"

You both nod. 

They aren't cruel to you in the traditional way. They take you to the bathroom. They give you water and feed you both an apple and slice of cheese while they drink their coffee and eat their toast and muffins. They let you sit in the chairs and sometimes if there are leftovers they shove their plates towards you. You always make sure Charlotte has first dibs. 

"Gonna be a long one today," Red, the de-facto leader tells the group, sucking at his back teeth. "Grant on the CB says there's a big house half a day by truck. He'll meet us at his place first."

"What's so great about it?" Ponytail is always challenging Red, glaring at him from behind her taped glasses. 

"Big place, nicer’n this. Old lady that's there is a hoarder. Never leaves unless it's to get medicine or food. She's got chickens out back too." 

Freckles whistles lowly in appreciation. Fresh eggs sound good. 

"Why doesn't Grant try on his own if he knows about it? S'just some old lady."

"Says too much noise coming from the house to be just one person," Red confirms. "Doesn't wanna go unarmed. Needs one of the Searchers."

"Which one?"

The Group slowly turns to scan between you and Charlotte huddled close together. You feel their greedy eyes bouncing between the two of you, trying to decide who is better for this mission. 

"Might as well bring 'em both, 'n Grant can choose."  

///

The ride is long and cold. You and Charlotte bump in the back of the truck, your bodies huddled together for warmth. Despite the heavy clothes and jackets you're both still freezing in the crisp air. 

Grant's compound is dirty with high chain link fencing; vicious looking dogs that pace back and forth as you arrive. They've been trained only to bark if infected come near, but they growl lowly when the Group and you and Charlotte approach. 

Grant pops his bearded head out from the shack he calls a home. Despite everything happening in the world he remains portly, well fed and ruddy-cheeked. 

"Up the road a ways," he tells Red before spitting a line of brown chewing tobacco into the dirt. “Place called Rock River. Used to belong to the real hoity toities before everything went down.”

He and Red chat a moment longer before Red motions your way. Grant scratches his ratty beard with a thoughtful look on his face before deciding. 

"We can bring 'em both. Place is big." 

"If there's nothin’ there you know it costs to use 'em," Red warns. "So you better come through."

"Don't you worry about that. Old lady's got lots of space in that big house. She'll have plenty worth trading for." 

The group chats amongst themselves quietly before Ponytail breaks from them, stalking over to you with a frown. 

"Here," she says handing you a large bowie knife from her belt. "You see anything you start stabbing and screaming."

If you were more naive you could think of this as a kindness. But you know better. This is a protection of assets, the privilege that comes with being a good and dependable pet. 

You turn the gleaming knife around in your palm, eyes tracing the serrated edge. The errant thought of jabbing it through her throat crosses your mind. But even if you stabbed one of them the others would gun you and your sister down within seconds.  

You grip the knife in your hand, motioning to Charlotte behind you. 

"What about my sister?"

Ponytail sneers. 

"Share."

She stalks off and you glare after her.

“Here," you tell her Charlotte after handing her the knife. "Make sure you have a strong grip on it."

"What about you?"

"Take care of yourself Charlie." 

///

Grant takes you and your sister in his truck, citing that the open back of a truck is no place for two ladies. Grant affords you more kindness than the others, but you know his intentions aren’t philanthropic. You’ve seen how he eyes your sister when the two of you are brought out to him.

“Got you two something.”

Grant’s meaty hand grabs something from the front of his rattling truck, handing it back to Charlotte. It’s a chocolate bar, old and white from age but she tears into it happily, breaking it in half. The two of you eat quickly, starving most if not all days.

“Thank you.”

Grant’s dog Lady, beside him in the cab of the truck, resting on the blanket afforded her regarding you both with an intense glare in the backseat. She’s an old dog, Grant’s most loyal companion and he brings her everywhere he goes. She’s too old to hunt, too old to do much of anything except shoot nasty looks at everyone.

“Here we are.”

Grant helps you both down from the truck, his hand lingering on Charlotte’s a little too long. You wince, grabbing her and tugging her out of his grip. The Group pulls up alongside Grant’s truck and all of you take a look at the large estate.  

The house is dilapidated, wood hammered over windows, the lawn yellowed and withered. If it weren’t for the faint clucking of the chickens in the backyard you would think it abandoned. A large tree sits in front of the house, a tire swing attached to it, an obscene mockery of old fashioned family life. 

Freckles passes you one of the flashlights and you take it.

“Alright you two,” Red says sucking his teeth. “Go on.”

You and Charlotte link hands, taking a deep breath and making your way towards the home. The rest of The Group hangs back inside the vehicles. If there’s a horde of infected they’ll get away easily.

This is the panic that always overtakes you at the start, the hurdle you have to overcome. The infected. You do it because if you don’t you’ll be killed. Your sister will be killed. And so you trudge with terrified steps up splintered wood steps, pushing the creaking door open.

You swallow thickly, listening for anything. Charlotte does the same, her head tilted to the side. When nothing but silence greets you the two of you exchange nods and step inside.

You’ve developed a silent shorthand for when you’re together, a way of communicating with barely imperceptible movements. Wide eyes: I hear something. Squinting eyes: Careful. Nods: Safe. There are dozens more, but those three are the most commonly used.

You stand back to back, arm linked as you move through the first room. Creaking floorboards and old furniture rest inside. There is no dust, no debris. This house is lived in. That means there’s a chance there’s someone here. But they’re a human someone.

You move through the bowels of the house, flashlight raised in front of you. Charlotte is silent, her eyes scanning the space around you both. You move through the hallway, flashlight scanning the empty bathroom.

You move to the kitchen, eyes on the muffins that sit on the table. Your mouth waters and you look at your sister. She’s seen the same thing. Without words the two of you scramble over to the table, gripping the muffins and hungrily shoving them into your mouths. The sugar makes your jaw ache, the taste of it so sweet on your tongue. Charlotte has her eyes closed, chewing quickly, savoring it all.

You wonder if the place has anything to drink. What if she has milk? You haven’t had milk in years. The thought makes the food thicken in your mouth. You swallow before turning, preparing to see what’s inside the fridge.

A flash of movement starts in front of you and a blinding flash of pain rips into your abdomen that drops you to your knees. The flashlight goes rolling under the cupboards and you grip your stomach, knelt over.

Charlotte hears your groan of surprised pain, whipping around to see an old woman with a shaky hand holding a bloodied knife.  The woman looks terrified, her frizzled hair in a loose bun and her hands gnarled. She looks at you in horror at what she’s done.

“I’m so sorry,” she gasps.

She doesn’t finish. You watch as you baby sister takes the knife and slices it brutally across the woman’s neck. Red spurts like rubies along the edge, flying over the floor.

“Charlie, no!”

The woman drops to the floor beside you, her hand around her throat as she tries to staunch the blood flow. You look to see she’s fallen on her knife, the handle digging into her spine. Your breathing is labored as you try to assess the situation. You fall back on your training.

“Is there anyone else in the house?”

She shakes as the blood pours from her, the sticky warmth spreading. She stares up at you with saddled brows, regret apparent on her face. Charlotte is sniffling; rubbing at her eyes as the knife she was holding clatters to the ground. She’s never killed anyone before, not anyone human.

"Only m-my grandson," the old woman whispers, her gnarled hand coming to grip your jacket. "Please.... P-l-lease take care of him. He's -"

You watch as the light fades from her eyes and she slumps back. Her fingers fall limply from your jacket to land on her abdomen. You glance up to see Charlotte’s eyes spilling tears, her face paling and her entire body shaking. She’s going into shock.

“I didn’t mean to-“

“You did what you had to do,” you tell her honestly, your voice dead as you hold her, warming her up by rubbing her arms. “And now we have to scan the house. We have to do our job. C'mon." 

It takes a few moments of this before the life comes back to her eyes.

“Your stomach.”

“Its fine,” you insist, groaning as you stand. “It hurts but she didn’t get me too bad.”

You’re lying of course. The pain is there, but adrenaline is overtaking you for the time being. You take a nearby tea towel and press it to your stomach to stop the blood flow. You dig around in the kitchen drawers, frustrated before moving to the bathroom. You pull out the drawers in there, thankful to find several packed bandages.

With Charlotte’s help she winds it around your abdomen several times, keeping the tea towel snug to your body, securing it around your ribs.

“Great, thanks,” you insist with a wheeze. “Let’s go.”

You go back to the kitchen, both sets of your sneakers and the bottom of your jeans drenched in her blood. You can’t find the flashlight and none of the lights seem to be working. The boarded up windows make the place dark and murky.

“Grab your knife,” you instruct Charlotte. She does so, attempting to dislodge the one under the woman but giving up when it won’t budge.

You glance around the kitchen, disappointed to see nothing that will help aside from a butter knife. She must store her weaponry elsewhere. That will be something to report back to Red; that will earn you both extra rations tonight.

You take Charlotte’s hand in yours, guiding her through the rooms a bit more at ease knowing that there’s only one other person in the house. You make your way up the stairs, marveling at how well-maintained the home is.

The first room holds a bed with plush looking sheets. You have the strangest urge to touch them, but you don’t. You know The Group will take them for themselves, you best not get attached. Maybe you could talk them into giving you one of the pillows to share though.

Next you come upon an office, your eyes scanning the various books held on sagging shelves. The Grey’s Anatomy textbook propped up on the large desk. Yellowed pages full of script and drawings catch your eyes and you step into the room.

One is of a human brain, different labels on each section. You were never good at biology, but you can see that she was working on something to do with brain and serums. You take a look at the journal with hastily written in script. It dates back four months.

Charlotte takes a look around the room, pocketing a small pencil as you read. 

You however are coming to realize something as you look at the beakers and different plants and herbs before thumbing through more of the entries. She’s written it there in plain English, and you feel your stomach tighten at the realization.

"She was trying to make a cure," you murmur to yourself, looking at the sheets of paper and notes.

Charlotte draws over, her eyes wide as she scans the pages, her hands trembling in ancitipation.

“Did she? Did it work?”

You look at the book half opened in your grip, flipping to the latest entry. A single sentence stares back at you, ugly and short.

“Subject remains infected.”

Disappointment floods the both of you, shoulders sagging. There is nothing quite like the pain of lost hope. 

“I don’t know why I thought for one second it was possible,” Charlotte scoffs angrily.

You start when she rips the journal from your hand and flings it against the wall. You can see the furious tears in her eyes, the curve of her mouth as she pushes more of the papers off the desk.

“I don’t know why we even bother! We’re never escaping this fucking nightmare!”

Glass beakers go crashing to the floor as she kicks over the desk and you grip her around the elbows, tightening so that you’re bear-hugging her. It sends a searing pain through your abdomen, fresh blood starting to seep through the bandage.

“I’m going to get us out of this,” you promise her, your forehead against her spine. “I promise.”

It’s a hollow oath and you both know it. It’s been years of this and you’re no closer to saving her, no closer to escaping. She just goes limp in your arms, silently sobbing. You let your sister cry, her sobs wrung from her tiny body. And then you release her, gripping her face in yours.

“Trust me Charlie. I’m going to protect you.”

She opens her mouth to say something when a thump sounds out from down the hall.

The two of you start, Charlotte gripping the knife from her jean pocket. She raises it, eyes going to you and narrowing. You nod, the two of you slowly making your way down towards the hallway.

Thump…thump…

You stand outside a door at the end of the corridor, your eyes going to the pale blue sign on the door. It’s got whimsical cartoon dinosaurs all over it, hand painted.

Ryan’s Room. No girls allowed.

"Her grandson," Charlotte says with sad eyes, her voice a whisper. "He’s just a kid."

Your stomach sinks as you realize the same thing. Charlotte lowers the knife to her side, looking at you with an imploring gaze. The thumping has ceased.

"We could take care of him," Charlotte reasons. "He could be like our little brother. We could tell them that he'll be a searcher like us." 

You shake your head, frustrated. The Group would never go for it, not another mouth to feed. And not a young child. They would see no use in it. And you don’t need another person to look out for.

"Charlotte we have to do our job. We scan the house and report back. It's not up to us to rescue anyone."

“After what I did to his grandma,” she says with a trembling lower lip, “I can’t leave him here. I just can’t.”

You see the toll that today has taken on your sister. Her first kill of an innocent, the guilt of that and leaving a child behind would break her further. You can’t have that happen. With a frustrated exhale you grip her shoulder.

"We can help him escape the house but that's it, Charlotte," you tell her in a whisper. "Give him time to pack a bag and run to the nearest QZ. Tell him how to avoid Raiders, but that's it. He cannot come with us." 

Charlotte nods and you hate to disappoint her. What if this kid is really young? Can you really turn your back on a frightened toddler in peril? You can only pray Ryan is old enough to get to a QZ on his own.

Charlotte breaks into a relieved smile, giving you a tight hug. The door is creaked open and you wait at the doorframe. You don’t want to scare the kid. He likely heard the noise from the office, likely taught to hide if he hears something.

“Hi Ryan,” Charlotte coos into the darkness. “We’re not here to hurt you.”

She steps into the room, fumbling for the light switch. But something feels off, something that makes you grab her shoulder and tug her towards you out of the room. You both stumble back further, horrified when a snarling sound emits from the dark room.

"Oh fuck!"

Your sister whimpers as the rotting corpse of a young boy leaps towards you both at the door, gnarled fingers outstretched. Half his face is covered in the fungus, his teeth ground down to points.

You both fall back onto the rotting wood in shock. In terror Charlotte loses her grip and the knife clatters to the floor. You stare at the boy, seeing the thick rope tied around his waist and secured to the heavy bed. He can go no further than the door. Despite this he swipes at your both fruitlessly. 

You begin to grope around on the floor for the fallen knife, your eyes wide with fearful adrenaline. The boy makes a chilling clicking noise and you hear the groaning of wood. 

Your fingers finally grip the knife and your sister shrieks again as you scrabble to a stand, pulling her back by the shoulder. The boy is halfway out the door, dragging the bed behind him. You hear the wood splintering 

"HELP!"

You hold your knife in front of you as you drag Charlotte backwards to the stairs. You hear the sound of the Group coming up the stairs with Grant leading them. They have their weapons raised, and Red barks at you from the bottom step. 

"How many?"

"O-one infected up here," you shout at him. "One dead woman in the kitchen." 

Red sprints up past the rest of the group and takes the knife from you. His glare is narrowed on the boy stuck by the width of the bed and the doorframe. He snarls at the Group, swinging his arms wildly. 

You pull your sister along with you as you hear the wet sound of a knife being thrust into flesh. Red has often remarked that he doesn't like to waste bullets when a knife will do just fine. There's a wet thunk and then finally a silence. Charlotte has tears streaming down her face and you go to wipe them.

"It's okay," you tell her, wrapping her in your arms. "You're safe. I've got you."

“Fucker took my knife,” Red snarls as he stalks back. “Can’t get it out of his fuckin’ skull.”

You and Charlotte make your way out of the house, followed by Grant.

“You stay here,” he instructs. “We’re gonna load up.”

The two of you sit in the back of the truck, Charlotte shivering as you attempt to comfort her. She doesn’t speak, just keeps whimpering and whining. The Group goes through the house, pilfering useful items, weapons and foodstuff before loading them into the vehicles. They all make jokes and smile as they tally up their goods.

“You both did good,” Grant says with a smile as he finishes up. His round face is sweaty from excursion. “Let’s head back. Hop up front.”

You nod, crawling eagerly from the back of the truck bed. You wait for your sister to join you, confused when she stays there, holding onto one of the mattresses that Grant took from the house. 

“I’ll stay here,” she mutters.

“Charlotte, its freezing,” you say, urging her to stand by grabbing her by the shoulder of her jacket. “C’mon.”

“Alright,” Red calls from his truck on the other side of you. “Let’s head back.”

“Charlotte, c’mon.”

Charlotte remains crouched, shaking her head as Grant comes alongside you. 

“I’ll hold the furniture,” she insists. “Make sure it doesn’t fall out.”

“Nah, don’t need that,” Grant insists. He’s big and strong and before she can deny him he’s holding her under the armpits and lifting her unwilling form out of the back of the truck bed. He settles her down on the ground, smiling at her patiently. “Besides, I don’t get your company often. I wanna take advantage.”

Charlotte doesn’t smile back; she just stands there until you take her hand, cajoling her into joining you. You open the door, urging her in before you. You see the blood around her sneakers and the bottom of her jeans. It matches yours, left from the old woman in the kitchen. You wince.

Charlotte is withdrawn as Grant brings the truck to life. The previously sleeping Lady awakens at the sound, giving a little sniff as she licks Grant’s face. He smiles lovingly at her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Lady sniffs the air again, her bleary eyes scanning the truck bed. She fixes her gaze on Charlotte, who stares back balefully. You both start when Lady begins to growl and then bark.

“Hey now,” Grant soothes, patting her belly. “Enough ‘a that, Lady.”

But Lady isn’t stopping. The old bitch is up on all fours, trying to leap into the back seat. Her eyes are fixed on Charlotte and you can see how the blood has drained from your sister’s face. Grant’s bemusement suddenly shifts and his eyes go to the rearview mirror, his eyes lingering on Charlotte before going back to the snarling Lady and then back to Charlotte.

Grant stares at her for a long moment before sighing. You watch his pudgy fingers go to the ignition, slowly turning the key to stop the truck from running. You stare at him, confused when he opens the door of the cab with another sigh, grabbing Lady by the collar and dragging her out of the cab. He closes the door, leaving your sister and you sitting in anxious silence.

You reach over and grab her hand, tightening yours around it. She gives you a watery smile.

“I love you.”

“Love you too.”

You turn to watch Grant out the window talking to Red in the truck. They look serious. Red keeps shaking his head and throwing up his hands before he and Ponytail shove open the doors and follow Grant back to the truck.

You’re startled when the door is yanked open and Red grabs Charlotte by the back of the neck, dragging her out of the truck. She shrieks and you clamor down, held back by Freckles as you attempt to intervene.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Red holds Charlotte by the upper arm in front of him, nodding at Grant. Grant, looking devastated grips Lady by the collar, guiding her slowly towards Charlotte. Lady immediately goes crazy, barking madly and almost foaming at the mouth as she nears your sisters ankle. Charlotte whimpers, looking at you fearfully. 

“Leg,” Ponytail says pointing at Charlotte’s blood-smeared jeans and sneakers. Freckles holds tight to you as you try to wrench out of her grip, shaking your head. They think she’s infected? Are they stupid?

“It’s not her blood! It’s from the woman we killed in the kitchen!”

Grant guides Lady backwards, watching as Smokey comes over, yanking up Charlotte’s jeans to show everyone a faint bite mark above her ankle. Everyone circling around lets out a groan of disappointment. Your stomach drops and then your world collapses on top of you. You fall to the ground onto your knees, unable to comprehend what you’re seeing.

“Musta’ got snagged by the kid upstairs before we got there,” Red remarks. “Fuck.”

He shakes his head as if he’s more irritated than anything. He looks your way, anger in his eyes.

“And you?”

You don’t answer him, you can barely hear anything. Everything is muted, like you’re under water. This can’t be happening. You just stare at her as Lady is brought over to you by a wet-eyed Grant. You don’t even acknowledge the dog sniffing at you; you just shake your head with wet eyes as you gaze at your sister.

“Charlie it’s not from the kid, right?” you ask with a trembling voice. “It’s a mistake, right?”

Charlotte doesn’t answer you.

She just looks at you with heartbreak in her eyes before she’s thrown to the ground by Red. She cries out as the cold ground bites into her hands and knees. A scream sounds out from you, ripped from your lungs at the sight of your sister in pain. Red looks at the rest of The Group before nodding at you with his head.

“Load her in the back.”

You’re halfway to your sister, jogging with your outstretched fingers almost touching hers when you feel arms around your middle, tugging you back brutally.

“No!” you shout as they begin to drag you over to the truck. “You can’t do this! CHARLOTTE!”

Smokey and Ponytail grab Charlotte by the wrists, tugging her screaming body back to the large  tree outside the front of the house. You watch in despair as they begin to wind rope around her body, tying her to the tree. She screams your name, her face crumpled in terror.

“Just one moment,” you beg as they hold you, “I just want to say goodbye.”

“Too dangerous,” Red announces. “Only got one ‘a you left now. Can’t take any chances.”

You scream and struggle and when you won’t stop Freckles decks you across the face. Blood goes spurting from your split lip and you immediately silence. Terror is there in you, knowledge that if you make more screaming noises you’ll be hurt further.

You’re thrown into the back of Red’s truck, just as you were that morning when it was you and Charlotte huddled together. Your ankles are tied together, attached to one of the heavy dressers brought from the home.  You lean over, your frantic eyes able to make out your sister’s trembling frame and Smokey and Ponytail headed back towards you.

Charlotte continues to scream your name, shouting for you. You can’t understand why they’re leaving her tied up like that. You look over when Red is about to get into the driver’s seat, your heart in your throat.

“You can’t leave her out here,” you beg him, tears falling down your cheeks. “Please. You can’t.”

Red takes a look at Charlotte tied to the tree, shrugging at you before clamoring into the front seat.

“She’s as good as dead. And I ain’t in the business of wastin’ bullets.”

///

Joel is holding you, as he has been the entire time you’ve been speaking. You know he’s looking at you in the dark, seeing the tears that stream down your cheeks as you cling to him. But your eyes are a blur of tears and blue-black night.

“I never understood if they did it to punish me or if they really just didn’t want to waste bullets,” you say in a voice so detached it doesn’t actually sound like you.

 “The last thing I remember is she was screaming for me. And all I could do was sit there, holding my hand out, useless, crying and watching her get smaller and smaller…”

Joel shifts to a seated position, you half in his lap, his fingers trailing soothingly up and down your spine once more.

 “I left my sister out there to turn by herself because I was too weak to fight back,” you say through clenched teeth. “I should have forced them to take me to her. I should have grabbed Red’s gun. I should have done something, but I was so scared.”

“You woulda been killed.”

“And my sister wouldn’t have had to die alone,” you whisper, tears slipping onto the pillow under your head. “I was her big sister. Her hero.”

Joel must sense that there’s no use trying to rationalize how you feel. It’s no different than how his emotions get the better of him when he talks about the night Sarah died. Sometimes in grief there is no logic, only pain.

“And I was never able to go back,” you tell him, swallowing. “Chiyo and I were so far from it by the time we started for Jackson City. We didn’t have enough to get us back to Rock River. So I don’t know if she’s still out there, wandering around, trapped in an infected body. I don’t know if she was killed. I’ll never know.”

Joel clings to you, holding you tighter than he ever has as your face moves to his shoulder and the sobs begin anew.  He seems to know that nothing he says will help in this moment, nothing he tells you will change the past. Instead he holds you in both and spirit, the compassion flooding from him into you as he rocks you in his arms. There are tears on your temple but not from you.

“I’m sorry,” he says in a thick voice. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

You’re not sure what he’s apologizing for.

///

Joel holds you until you fall back asleep and he’s there when you wake up, fingers trailing over your cheek. You lick your dry lips, eyes crusty from sleep as you peer up at him in the early morning light.

"Did you watch me sleep all night?"

His lower lip sticks out slightly, a shoulder brought to his ear in a noncommittal shrug. 

"Wasn't really that tired."

You see the way he sleepily squints down at you, watching as he poorly swallows a yawn. You could ask him why he did it but you know why. 

"Liar."

Joel chuckles rich and soft before kissing your cheek. With a pout you let him extricate himself from your limbs. You yawn, listening to him using the shower before exiting dressed a few minutes later, damp hair curling at the ends. 

He crouches down beside your bed, his broad hand coming to push back the hair from your forehead. He kisses your face over and over, soft, feather-light kisses, warm from his plush lips and you melt into them.

"I got a lot to do today. Helping Tommy with building some shit, meeting with Hank about the fencing and then guitar with Ellie."

You're disappointed of course, but there's not a part of you that's resentful. You had an entire night with him; he has a life outside you and you him. Your hand goes to loosely wrap around the wrist of the hand he has against your forehead, ready to tell him as such.

"But I can cancel the stuff with Tommy and Hank if you need me to," he murmurs, mouth against your forehead. "Just say the word. I could even reschedule with Ellie, she’d understand." 

You gaze at him from your pillow, taking time to memorize the wrinkles around his eyes, the plush of his lower lip, the gray creeping into his beard and hair. You are in awe of the way his dark eyes seem so soulful, so open as he looks to you like you bring out the sun.

You lift your head just to kiss him gently, citing that it’s fine, that you actually need some time to yourself, that you’ll see him tomorrow for patrols and eventually after many kisses and ‘you sure?s’ he leaves you, looking concerned until you throw a pillow at him and tell him to get lost.

Left alone in the quiet of your home, in the bed still warmed from Joel’s body, you stare up at the ceiling. Contrary to what you expected there is a lightness about today, of sharing everything with another person. There is freedom in telling Joel everything, even the parts you kept from Chiyo. It makes you feel strangely reborn in a way.  

You’d expected darkness and depression, but instead you’re met with a strange sense of calm. You know however that the ugly thoughts may resurface, muddling your thoughts. On days when your brain feels crowded it helps to go for a walk, to clear your head and make sense of the world. So you pull on your boots and you make your way to the old farmhouse.  

Buckley is there at the end of the street wagging his tail merrily as you give a scratch behind his ear. You pass him and begin to wander down the quiet path leading to the farmhouse. As you do your mind is cluttered with emotion and feelings you have to sift through. 

You still can't believe you shared all of that about Charlotte with Joel. Further yet to can't believe he didn't try to give advice or press you for more details. He just held you, shed a tear and watched over you until you woke the next morning. 

Your heart feels achy but in the best way. Like there's so much love inside your meagre body can't contain it all. 

You enter into the old farmhouse but take your time, scanning the space through fresh eyes as you recall Joel's assessment of the place the last time you were both here. 

Place has good bones.

It's the kind of thing someone says when they want to buy a place, isn't it? When they envision starting a life with someone else and-

Stop it. 

You walk up the stairs, making sure to note every scuff mark, every chipped baseboard, every threadbare carpet in the bedrooms. You wonder about the family here before. No knickknacks were left behind, no personal effects. 

It's a blank slate in some ways, the walls even more bare than yours at home. But the small bits of furniture that remain speak to a family. 

You pause, glancing into the first bedroom. The narrow bed, the faded pink stars of the wallpaper. You can imagine that a young girl one resided in this room, she did her homework under the window, read books in a chair by the corner.

You move to the bigger room with no bed, but one rickety end table. The walls are a faded taupe color, attached to a large bathroom with a rusty toilet and a shower with a missing door and broken shower tiles. 

But the longer you stare, the more this visage fades from view and morphs into something out of a dream. You can imagine everything repaired, the windows washed and casting warm light in every room. 

You can envision a working claw foot tub and Joel's handyman skills working at refinishing the broken tiles, making a mosaic in colors of your choosing. 

You imagine nights walking wrapped in a towel, slick and warm from the tub into Joel's waiting arms. Of nights taking turns bringing each other to toe-curling orgasms as you cling to the sleigh bed from his bedroom back on Rancher Street. You're not shocked when you feel your cunt throb in your jeans. 

You go to the next bedroom, looking at the large boarded up window and thinking it would be perfect as an art room for Ellie once it was spruced up. You could even do some crafts in here when you felt like it. 

The next room is at the far end of the hall. It's got it's own private bathroom, a large bedroom. It's not as independent as Ellie having her own space in the garage, but maybe she'd like it anyway. 

You can almost hear her girlish laughter as you sit on her bed and brush her hair, whispering about Dina and first kisses. In that same fantasy you can imagine Joel poking his head around the frame and saying something about interrupting girls day. 

You can easily envision mornings laughing over coffee with Joel in the kitchen, of Ellie rolling her eyes but unable to keep the grin from her face as you and Joel press your lips together gently. 

A family. 

Nothing like the one you envisioned as a young girl, but perfect to you in this world.

You catch your reflection in the busted mirror above the sink. You're beaming, actually fucking beaming at this imagined scenario. At the sight of it you flush, eyes averted to the ground. 

"Stop it," you murmur to yourself out loud, frowning. "You fucking loser."

It's too early to be thinking like this, to have such domestic fantasies of moving in together and becoming some little family. You're being silly, delusional. 

You had such little romantic experience before outbreak day and then after that you felt stunted. Dating in the QZ wasn't the same, romance was odd and rushed. Even without a wider context of relationships you know that you're thinking too far ahead, wanting to move too fast. 

But one thing is clear as you walk along the uneven wood towards the front door, you are thinking of a future with Joel Miller. 

///

Patrols arrive the next morning and as you get dressed that morning you're strangely giddy. You pull on your socks smiling. You hold back the urge to skip into town, swallowing the excitement of seeing him.

You want to talk with him about Ellie and Jennifer and see what he thinks. He asked you to the dance, obviously he knows what that means. But maybe he doesn't want anyone knowing until then. But you need to tell him Jennifer needs to know now, the minute you get back from patrols. 

Joel isn't there yet and Hank tells you that you're early, smiling when you hand him the bag of apple tarts. 

"What're these for?"

"Practice," you smile, taking some of the peels from a separate bag and bringing them over to Chestnut. 

"Hello beautiful boy," you say, pressing a soft kiss to Chestnuts soft nose. "Did you miss me?"

You hold out some of the apple peelings, grinning when he huffs his warm breath along your palm before indulging. Midnight stands nearby, the two of them secured to the fence in anticipation of patrols. 

"Here you go," you offer almost shyly, your palm flat and your eyes on the ground. There's a shuffling and then you feel his warm breath on your palm. Your eyes peek up to see Midnight surveying you warily even as he munches on the snack. 

You're gradually aware of a warmth behind you. You glance over your shoulder to see Joel standing there. He's smiling subtly, his voice dropped for only your ears. 

"Told ya you'd win him over."

That same warm arousal builds in your lower belly as you tell yourself to look away from him, knowing that the longer you stare the harder it is not to kiss him. His eyes flick to yours, the pull clearly strong in him as well. 

"There you are Joel," Hank says cheerfully coming up behind him. "The horses are all ready for ya both." 

Joel's expression immediately drops and he turns to face Hank, wearing his customary scowl. 

"Good." He glances down at the bag in Hanks hand curiously. "S'that?"

"I'd offer you one of these tarts but your partner there only made enough for me."

He shoots you a playful wink as you giggle. The look Joel shoots Hank could wither fruit on the vine. He looks over at you. 

"Are you ready to go or not?" 

There's something about Joel pretending to be stern in front of everyone that amuses you, and if you're honest, turns you on a tiny bit. You muse that it rests in the knowledge that Joel is so sweet and soft but only with you, away from the prying eyes of Jackson City inhabitants.  

It makes you try very hard to swallow a giggle when he looks at you dismissively before throwing his leg up over the saddle. You and Chesnut follow him out, the gates closing behind you.

"I liked your apple tarts, you know." 

Joel is watching you out of the corner of his eyes. You glance over, seeing his face looking solemn. 

"Huh?"

"Those ones you gave Hank. I liked ‘em."

"Oh good."

You ride beside him, lost in thought. Why is he bringing up your baking? Was he hungry? Joel is never hungry on patrols like he's trained his body to only feel hunger during the lunch break. Realization slowly dawns on you. 

"Joel are you upset I didn't bring you baking?" 

"No," Joel says quickly, frowning at the empty space in front of him. "Just that if you're goin' around givin’ out baking I wouldn't mind some." 

He looks over sharply when you start laughing to yourself, your cheeks sore by the time you're done. 

"Joel, I just figured you'd have some when you came over next."

You don’t miss the pink at his cheeks as he nods almost shyly.

“Okay. Good.”

You and Joel are quiet the next little bit, knowing that silence is paramount on patrols. It doesn't stop you from watching him out the corner of your eye. Doesn't still your heartbeat when he randomly glances over at you and smiles. 

You give Chestnut a gentle pat behind the ears, looking down at your beloved horse with affection. He moves at a steady clip, his movements smooth and focused. 

"Hey."

Joel's whisper draws your attention to see he's looking at you not with warmth but instead heavy concern. 

"It’s our turn to check the traps," Joel offers with a gentle tone. "You okay with that?" 

What a difference Joel's kindness makes. When he asks you to do this instead of commanding it. You nod, following him dutifully atop Chestnut. 

"We'll be fast," he tells you as the two of you jump off and tie up your horses on the outskirts of the forest. The same one you ventured into before. Both horses huff at each other, their breath caught by the chilled air and frozen. 

You fumble with Chestnuts reign, distracted by the way Joel's arms bulge in his jacket. Filthy images of him in bed are invading your mind as you half-heartedly tie Chestnut to the nearby tree by Midnight. 

You feel your heart pound delightedly when Joel catches your gaze and gives you a smirk and a wink. 

"Let's go."

He reaches a hand towards you and you take it with a grin up at him. This all feels so natural, so easy. He seems so comfortable walking with you through the snow, a faint look of contentment on his features.

You make your way through the forest quietly. Got the first time since you took his hand you feel anxious, despite having him at your side, gun always ready. You still hate the forest, still haven't gotten used to the thin fingers if branches that strain forwards you.  

Joel must notices this because he gently urges you into one arm, dropping your have so that he can band an arm around your shoulders, holding you. You both survey the traps quietly, seeing nothing of note. 

"Jennifer is making me a dress for the dance," you say out of nowhere as you circle them twice, just to make conversation. "It's blue." 

"Yeah?" Joel's eyes flick down your body, likely imagining it. "I'm gonna enjoy seein' you in that."

"Why do I feel like you'll enjoy taking it off me more?"

Joel bursts into a laugh before he catches himself, remembering you both have to be quiet out here. 

"Damn, I remember when you were a shy thing offerin' me cookies. Now look at you, getting’ me hard in the middle of patrols."

Oh.

Your face feels warm and you have to look away from him, suddenly shy. That familiar thrum begins between your legs and you try to change the subject. 

“I’ve been practicing my shooting,” you offer with a creak in your throat. “You might be surprised at how good I’ve gotten. I hit four cans at practice the other day."

You walk behind him with your shoulder’s back, feeling cocky.

"Four cans huh?" Joel says lightly. You glance over to see him suppressing a wry grin. 

"Oh shut the fuck up," you say with a laugh and playful shove at his shoulder. "I'm so sorry I didn't grow up in Texas with a shotgun next to my pacifier."

Joel chuckles loudly at this, the rich sound bouncing off the trees. You grin at the sound, your heart thumping delightedly. Again he remembers himself, smirking at the ground and shaking his head in amusement.

He seems to think of something before reaching into his pocket. He produces one of his knives, a thin thing he barely ever takes out. He places it in the center of your palm, urging your fingers to wrap around the handle.

"Let’s see how good you are at aimin’," Joel says with a crooked grin. "Stay here." 

He walks over to one of the fallen trees, placing his flask atop it. Much like when you and Luke and Jenny practice shooting the tin cans. His boots crunch over the snow as he comes to stand in front of you once more, his face coming into view as you gaze up.

His dark eyes are like liquid heat, bright and hypnotizing. It makes you feel like you're in the calm before the storm. He eyes you slowly, gaze drifting over every inch of you, his hand coming to readjust himself in his jeans. 

"You look good like that," he muses, his voice low and rumbling. He takes a step forward, disbelief and lust making his speech sound slurred. "Holdin’ my knife.”

You roll your eyes, secretly pleased.  

“I haven’t practiced throwing knives, Joel.”

“Then this is your first lesson,” he offers cheekily. "Hit the flask."

"I'll wreck it."

"I barely use it," Joel reasons before his mouth hitches on one side as he looks meaningfully at you. "Plus I don't think I have much to be worried about."

“Hey!”

"Prove me wrong, darlin'," Joel says, coming to stand behind you. 

Darlin'. It sounds so good coming from him in that low, husky twang. You wonder if he said it on purpose to throw you off. 

"I'll even give you a pointer to start you off," he continues. "Step one is actually raising your arm up."

"Okay, get outta here," you grumble, trying not to smile as you shake off his hand on your shoulder.  A knife can’t be that hard to throw.

You breathe slowly, your chest rising, holding. You remember what Jennifer said about thinking of something safe. Your something safe is standing behind you. 

"That’s my girl," Joel murmurs behind you, breaking your concentration just as you throw. Not shockingly the knife goes wide, sinking into the snow. 

"Just jitters," you tell him as he goes to retrieve it. "I'll get the next one." 

"Mhm."

You take the cool blade into your hand once more, feeling him standing there behind you. You tell yourself to ignore him and that this is the shot you’ll make. You balance the knife in your fingers, trying to find the best spot to grip it.

"Are you aimin'?" Joel croons in your ear as his hands start to slide up under your jacket. Cold air hits your skin, causing goosbumps to rise. You twist your head to look at him, seeing the merriment that dances in his eyes.

"What're you-"

Your breathing hitches when his large palms slide up under your sweater and then under the band of your bra until your breasts rest heavy in his eager hands. 

"So soft," he murmurs, kissing the back of your neck as his thumbs trace your nipple. 

His voice is low, seductive and it drips between your legs like warm honey. His large hands begin to knead your breasts, his greedy fingers locating your nipples with ease. They immediately pucker under his touch, mercifully warm from being in his gloves. He tugs at them, making you moan, knife wavering.

"C'mon, baby," Joel murmurs with a grin, his hands sliding down your skin, coming to slide down the front of your jeans, rubbing your swollen clit through the denim. "Concentrate." 

Baby. He's definitely doing this to fuck with you. Your ass rolls against his front, not immune to the erection pressing into your lower back.

"Hit it and I'll fuck you," Joel promises his breath hot against your cold cheek. "Right against that tree there." 

You follow his finger pointing at the large trunk a few feet away. You're swaying in his arms, unable to concentrate but you raise the knife anyway. It's held tightly in your grip, but Joel isn't stopping the fingers that rub between your legs, making you arch. 

"You're so fuckin' soft," Joel rumbles against your hair. "But I know just where you're the softest."

You gasp when you feel him unclasp the button of your jeans. Your body breaks into goose bumps as his greedy fingers find their way underneath the waist of your panties. 

"C'mon and aim," he urges you in a rough whisper, the tone teasing. "Show me how good you are."  

"I can't," you mutter, already giving over to the sensation, your hips rolling as his fingers slide between your slick folds. His thumb circles your clit and you cry out, nerve endings already strained.  

"You were just braggin'," Joel reminds you. "Four cans was it?" 

"Only the one time," you tell him breathlessly, ass rolling against his hardened front, feeling his long fingers starting to thrust up into your velvet clutch. "Just once. And that was with a gun." 

Joel's wet mouth is sponging along your neck as your eyes shut, your back leaning against his front. He's holding you upright, your legs turned to jelly as his thumb comes to tap and circle your clit, his second and third finger curling within you.   

"I wanna watch how good you are with a knife," he says softly, moving the hair sticking to your heated cheek and kissing there. 

You look over your shoulder at him, your free hand gripping him by the back of his neck as you feel his fingers thrusting deep. 

"Joel, please."

Joel gives you a quick peck and now he removes his fingers from your panties. You feel his hands going on either side of your hips, positioning you. 

"C'mon sharpshooter," he teases. "Let's see." 

You raise the knife shakily, swallowing. 

Focus. 

You want to impress him. You want to show him that you're better than he thinks. But his hands are still at your hips, holding. You inhale slowly, forcing all other thoughts to leave you. You raise your gun, looking through the scope.

The flask. The tiny silver square that glints at you in the sunlight, teasing you. It becomes the only thing you can see, the rest of the world going fuzzy and quiet. Throw it on the exhale.

You throw it. 

You see the flask wobble as the blade whizzes by, the rush of air upsetting it slightly but it remains standing. Your shoulders sag in disappointment.  Joel grabs you, gently spinning you around to face him. You're surprised to see he's grinning as he hoists you into his arms with a grunt. 

"Close enough."

You laugh at that, holding onto him like a horny koala, your legs wrapping around his waist. You kiss his neck, desperate to feel him as he carries you to the tree. He pins you against it, his mouth and hands hungry for you.

He sucks your tongue into his mouth, groaning lowly as your thighs squeeze around his waist. Your hips begin to jerk, chasing the friction that builds between you and its only seconds before your jeans are shucked down and your panties are pulled to the side before he’s plunging into you, a condom over his cock.

He pushes your sweater up and tugs your bra down, exposing your breasts to him in the chilled air. You keen as his mouth sucks at your nipples, tongue flicking as you arch. His mouth kisses your collar, tasting you everywhere with your back biting into the bark of the tree. He raises his head back up, eyes on your face.

There's something about Joel's warm body and the frigid air that makes you feel so awake. The dueling sensations make everything feel more acute, sharper. The bristles of his facial hair rough on your neck as he kisses you there, the softness of his thick curls in between your fingers. He sinks deeper into you, his soft groans muffled against your neck. 

You feel safe with him, you feel alive for the first time in years. You urge him deeper; as if by doing that he can physically feel the adoration you carry for him. 

He moves you both in rhythmic undulations against the tree, hurried in desire but gentle in execution. He wants you to feel good and you want the same for him. You grip your arms around his neck, murmuring softly between kisses about how good he makes you feel.

"Anyone else make you feel this good?"

"No," you gasp, hips rutting against his. Your hand is on the back of his neck, your face inches from him as you bounce against him, thighs spread wide to accommodate him, the rasp of the bark against your tailbone. 

"Only need my cock," Joel grunts, thrusting himself to the hilt with a rumbling groan.   "Only need me."

You stay gripping his neck, eyes on him as he buries himself in you over and over, grinding his hips to yours, his mouth chasing yours as welcome him deeper. You rise and fall like the waves of an ocean, bodies in a dance as old as time, in a rhythm as ancient as time itself.

"Not just because of that," you whisper, your body still moving in time with his. You're gaze is still stuck on him, soft. 

"No?"

Joel's cheeks are red circles, his body increasing in tempo as he pins you against the tree. You can see the question in his dark eyes, the almost hopeful expression. 

"You make everything good."

It comes out in a whimpered rush. It escapes you so quick you don't even have time to think about it because you're cresting, falling over the edge into bliss as Joel continues to fuck you through it against the tree. 

He kisses you, urging your thighs to part further. He pivots his hips, circling them and your eyes begin rolling back at the sensation. Your fingers grip him by the shoulders, bouncing against him, your back rasping against the bark of the tree at your back. 

"Joel I don't wanna stop," 

"We ain't gonna." 

"I d-don't just mean now," you groan as he starts to withdraw and thrust into you with relish. "I-I mean-n-n..."

You can't say anymore, your words are gone, lost in the trees that shake with the approaching wind.

"I know what you meant, baby," Joel says as his mouth covers yours again. "I know." 

A thrill goes through you at his words and you kiss him back ardently, neck tilting back when he hits the perfect spot deep within you. Your spine lengthens as you arch violently. 

"Fuck! Right there!"

His forehead presses to yours, his eyes inches from your own. He's staring at you, unblinking as his hips continue to rhythmically jerk. 

"Come for me," he rasps, eyes not blinking. "Come on my cock right now. Gimme what’s mine." 

Joel moves his face to your shoulder, his growls feral and loud against your jaw. It's the kind of noise that makes you keen and come harshly on his still pistoning cock, coating him. 

"That's it," he praises as his hips start an even faster rhythm, making every part of you bounce for him. And then your entire body shudders as you come for him, offering desperate little whines as he continues to pound into you.

“Fuck, I can feel you flutterin’.”

He releases with a growl at your neck, making you moan as you continue to come down from your high. His hands come to your face, the end of his sharp nose grazing yours. He’s panting, his face flushed and his stare intense.

 "I wanna give you everythin'."

You grin, feeling completely wrung out. You kiss him softly, everything inside you blooming. Then your head is against his chest, hearing the staccato of his heartbeat as you catch your breath. 

I love you, Joel. 

The words rest behind your teeth, gnashed down by nerves. You can't say them out loud. Not yet. But they exist and in your mind you can scream them over and over. 

You drag his mouth to yours, sighing when he shows no hesitation. He's never said it, but you can feel it on his side. The warmth he casts over you with his smile, his words. A Joel you found by digging in his shadow.  

He moves you both in rhythmic waves against the tree, hurried in desire but gentle in execution. He wants you to feel good and you want the same for him. You grip your arms around his neck, murmuring softly between kisses about how good he makes you feel. 

You love him. 

In this moment with him, in so many moments the words bubble up inside you. Like a still corked bottle of champagne, waiting to be popped. The words rest behind your teeth, gnashed down by nerves. You can't say the words out loud. Not yet. But they exist. In your mind you can scream them over and over. 

"Well ain't this cute."

Your blood runs immediately cold as your eyes blow open. Joel's motions immediately stop, his grip on you tightening. He's facing you against the tree so you can see the moment his eyes widen in horror. 

"Caught myself two little lovebirds.”

The voice is a low growl from behind Joel. You lift your head up to see a man with oily hair standing, watching you both. He wears a thick jacket, gloves with holes and his face is drawn thin and malnourished. 

A raider. 

Your blood runs cold, that familiar fear cloying in your throat. 

"Might wanna get dressed," the man says amused. 

Joel's eyes meet yours briefly as he tucks himself away and you pull up your jeans, both buttoning in a hurry. He's trying to gauge your reaction. Your eyes are blown wide in terror and Joel murmurs something that sounds like stay behind me, but the blood is roaring in your ears. 

The raider holds a gun in his right hand and a smile stretches over his thin lips. He cocks it when Joel reaches for his shotgun resting against the base of the tree. 

"Ah ah, I don't think so, friend." 

Joel grits his teeth and continues to stand in front of you, shielding you from the man. You tremble behind him. 

"Sorry to interrupt love birds. But I think you might have something of mine." The man eyes you both. "A shipment of medicine? I was delayed a bit and rumor is you folks helped yourselves." 

"We don't have it," Joel tells the man flatly. "We just came to check the traps."

"C'mon now," the man laughs, the gun still aimed at you both. "You think I don't know a liar when I see one?"

 He comes closer; his eyes glancing over at you huddled behind Joel. 

"I told you we don't fucking have it," Joel repeats. 

The humor flees from the older man's face. 

"Now I've been polite but you're really starting to piss me off. I know you have my shit and I want it back." The man sniffs angrily. "We heard about a guy fittin' your description. Came by with a few others last week."

"We did come looking for it last week but we didn't find anything," Joel relents. 

"Now why would you go and do that?" The man asks as if he's actually offended. "Stealin' another man's property?"

"Didn't know it was yours."

"Well it sure as shit wasn't yours, now was it?"

Joel says nothing, but you feel his breathing hitch. His broad shoulders that you stand behind seem to slump. You don't have any way out of this.

You peek your head out the side of Joel, eyes fixed on the grungy raider glaring at Joel. You want to help in some way. 

"P-please," you whisper in a stammer. "We don't have your things. I swear." 

The man's eyes slide over to you, his face a sneer. 

"Like I'm gonna believe the words of a whore," the man spits out with a cruel smile. 

"Watch your fuckin' mouth," You hear Joel growl. His hands are balled fists at his sides. 

"You wanna try that again?" The man asks, pressing the gun to Joel's forehead. You feel your body shaking when you feel Joel's body tighten up. His back is to you but there's no mistaking the way he holds himself terrified. 

"The others will come lookin’ for us," Joel warns the man. "Leave us be and we'll pretend this never happened."

“Ain't no one gonna find you out here."

"You wanna bet?" 

The man's eyes narrow.  "Even if they go come lookin' after ya I'll be long gone."

"Your tracks won't be." Joel motions to the man's heavy boots. "We got bloodhounds that'll sniff you out in under an hour."

Joel is still stiff but his voice is cold and menacing. You see the man in front of him falter slightly before his yellowed eyes flick your way. They rove your body hungrily, sucking at his back teeth before he speaks. 

"In that case I better get my kicks in while I can." He gives a gap toothed grin your way. "Girlie it's been a while, so be polite for me. Get on your knees and show me why your friend here keeps you around." 

When you don't move he reaches around to aim his gun at your head. Your stare at the barrel pressed between your eyes.

This is how you die. 

You whimper, eyes wet with terror. You finally found something to live for outside of your own survival and this is how it ends? Dead in the snow at the hands of some stranger? Before anything more can happen Joel pushes in front of you, the barrel now aimed at his chest. 

"Get the fuck away from h-"

Joel doesn't finish the sentence before the man hits him harshly with the butt of his gun. Joel hisses and he folds at the waist, his face cracking to the side. You shriek, your voice carrying through the forest.

“Joel!”

"I don't wanna repeat myself, girlie." 

The injustice of all of this makes furious tears roll down your cheeks. This bastard is going to take everything from you after all you've been through. Images of Charlotte flood your mind, the sound of her screams, the sight of Maria covered in her own blood, the way Penny held you as you sobbed for your dead family. All of this pain, this horror, its never-ending.

A scream comes from you, an unholy terrified thing from the bottom of your toes as you glare at the raider, your eyes wild. The man looks momentarily taken aback at the sight and sound of it, gun faltering. 

And then it all happens so fast.   

A loud whinny echoes through the trees shocking all of you. You turn to see Chestnut comes hurtling towards the group of you through the trees. His gallops are slick in the icy snow, his breath coming out in white clouds as he streaks towards you. 

"The fuck?"

The man is confused. He might be wondering if there are more of you about to surround him. 

Joel whirls around to face you, half his face covered in sticky blood. He bear hugs you to him, tackling you to the ground. He cushions your fall but you let out a grunt as your spine hits the snow. The air is punched out of your lungs. 

Instinctively the man raises his weapon, his gun aimed and with a terrifying finality he pulls the trigger. It’s like slow motion, watching as Chestnut’s eyes widen so much you see the whites. Red blooms at the side of his head and you scream.

"No!"

Chestnut goes stumbling and then crashing to the ground, a strangled whinny of pain going through the forest before a hideous silence settles. 

It's a split second but it's enough, Joel's hand is already on the butt of the shotgun. It's in his grip within seconds and before the raider can do anything Joel's aiming it at the man and pulling the trigger. 

A spray of red shoots from the man's shoulder, dotting the snow and causing his gun to drop, but not before shooting widely. He turns on Joel with a snarl. 

"Fucker!"

You can't see Joel's face from where lay in the snow but he moves as if he's on autopilot. A force to be reckoned with. His shoulders are tight and he raises the gun to his eyes. 

Joel blasts the raider again and you watch the spray of red that explodes from his head. This one sends the man crumpling onto the ground, blood pouring from the half of his face that's now missing. He lands forward in the snow, the red of his blood seeping into the white earth like ink on paper. 

There's a throbbing in your leg that you're noticing as Joel is urges you to stand, pulling you onto his arm, his face a contortion of anxiety and frustration.

"C'mon, get up. We gotta go."

He hauls you towards the entrance of the trees without thought, one arm around your waist, the other hand aiming his gun at anyone who you may meet along the way. 

Your eyes however land on the frozen body of Chestnut. You sweet, darling savior. A creature that heard your scream and came running. His ribs don't expand and he lies with eyes wide open, unblinking. He's not moving.

You go to step towards him but Joel continues hauling you away, his eyes fixed in front of him. 

"We have to go."

Your hand reaches fruitlessly for Chestnut as Joel drags you from the clearing. Tears slide down your cheeks and your voice is cracked. 

"We can't leave him out here, Joel. We have to bury him or something."

Joel's face betrays a shadow of regret. 

"We don't know if this guy had friends who just heard a bunch of gunshots. We gotta go." 

His breathing is rapid, but his focus is clear. He knows what to do in this situation whereas you’re blind with panic and regret. 

"I didn't tie him properly," you sob, your cries cracked in the cold air. Each inward breath feels like a stabbing behind your ribs.

"You did," Joel insists distractedly, guiding you both through the trees. 

"No, I was just so excited to touch you," you spill out, not caring that it's embarrassing to admit this. Your heart aches too painfully to care. "I was distracted and ... He's dead because of me."

Your feet fumble, tripping up as you hold onto him as you beg him to do something with Chestnut. He grunts, righting you and urging you to keep going. 

"I know you're scared and sad and I can't take that away, but we gotta go," Joel says pulling you more aggressively. 

You choke down another sob, finding your footing and running back alongside Joel until you make it out of the clearing and back to an anxious looking Midnight, still tied to the tree. The horse watches warily as the two of you approach. 

You're trying to muffle your sobs as Joel kneels, motioning for you to stand on his thigh to climb onto Midnight's back. You're halfway onto the horse when his dark eyes widen and you stop climbing confused at his expression. 

"You're shot."

You look down at your leg to see a bloom of red starting under the denim. 

"It's not mine," you insist, swiping at the denim. You hiss when you realize in fact you did get hit. The stray bullet must have grazed you. You were so focused on that was happening around you that you didn't even notice. 

You raise your eyes to his terrified face. "I don't feel anything."

"It's shock." 

You should be crying. You should be feeling something, but nothing is happening. You just feel cold all over. 

Joel looks like he's going to be sick. 

"I'm fine," you insist with a tremor in your voice. 

You're shaking, body going cold. Joel is pushing you onto the horse, urging you to wrap your arms around his waist when he climbs in front of you. 

"Hold tight."

He takes off like a bat out of hell, the trees whipping by you all as Midnight gallops back to Jackson City. 

You fade in and out of awareness. The pain in your calf keeps you awake, but what just happened has you feeling absolutely drained. You could cry when the familiar sight of Jackson's walls come into view. Midnight huffs exhausted, clopping quickly to the entrance. Joel’s spine straightens, his voice a gruff boom.

"Open up!"

You see Hank climbing down from the watchtower, calling for Fred and others. Joel throws himself off the horse.  

"She's hurt!" Joel shouts, his voice cracked. "Bullet to the calf."

The doors remain closed. Your body tightens, anxiety holding you. You hear Hank's voice through the heavy wood. 

"Grab the dog."

"No time for the dog!" Joel roars. He bashes his gloved fist against the closed door until Hank opens it a crack, his face just visible through the thin slit.  

"Joel you know the rules," Hank says quietly eyeing you both. "Someone comes back injured from patrols, we gotta test 'em."

"S' fucking ridiculous,” Joel pants, motioning to you. “She's bleedin' out."

"We've already sent for the doctor. Just sit tight." 

You're whimpering from the pain as Joel paces back and forth in front of you, looking increasingly agitated with every moment that passes by. Finally Melody from the dog kennels jogs over with a bloodhound, followed by the town medic, Lily. 

Melody raises her hand in front of the dog that eyes you. Joel helps you down from the horse, murmuring something to you that you can’t hear.

"Boba...check."

Melody gives a snap and the dog takes off trotting towards you. Boba sniffs you as you try to remain standing. After a moment the dog rubs his face against your kneecap, accepting the scratch behind his ears. 

Boba moves to Joel, sniffing at his boots before he moves back to Melody, unimpressed at having found nothing of note. 

"All clear."

You see Hank visibly relax. Lily, the medic on shift for the evening urges you both inside the gates. Lily is a ruddy faced woman of about fifty. Her strawberry blonde hair is cut just at her jaw.

She always has a sense of no-nonsense, a professionalism that makes you feel safe. She was a nurse back before the world went to shit. She doesn't ask you much outside of what occurred out there.

"You're both gonna come to the infirmary," Lily informs you after a quick rundown of what happened. Joel says nothing, but he urges you onto his shoulder, helping you limp after the woman to the nearby hospital bay. 

She puts you in the first room, usually saved for things like surgery. Lily’s eyes flick between the two of you briefly as Joel helps walk you to the bed, his face grave.

"You stay out there," Lily instructs Joel when she enters with her medical bag. He looks about to contest this but the door is closed in his face and you’re too tired to fight for him to remain. 

She helps you slip off your jeans. You wince as the denim peels away from the dried blood of your wound and Joel peers from over her shoulder. 

"Just a graze," she says sounding relieved. 

She helps you into the bed, tugging off your jacket before you lay down. Sweat is drenching your hairline, you're body sweaty but cold. Lily keeps insisting you drink water even after you've swallowed the pain pills. 

She patches you up slowly, cleaning the wound on your calf carefully to avoid infection. You lay tensed up; eyes scrunched shut as she works on you. It hurts, despite the painkillers she gave you. 

"Joel, I can't work if you're breathing down my neck. And I thought I told you to wait outside."

Your eyes crack open and you shakily raise your head to see Joel in the room beside the bed, gazing down at your leg with what looks like anguish. You follow his eyes and glance down to see the puckered flesh of your calf being sewn together. 

A wave of nausea goes through you and you lay your head back down on the pillow. 

"I'm okay," you tell him quietly, as if Lily isn't in the room with you. He drags his eyes from your leg to your face. 

"This never shoulda happened." 

He looks angry, but not at you. His eyes have that haunted, distant look to them. A look you've grown to fear when you see it in the eyes of people you care about. Without thinking you reach for him, but he stays standing with his arms hung at his sides. It's like he's a million miles away even as he stares at you. 

You stretch your arm further, fingers aching to come into contact with any part of him. In your desperation you begin shifting in the bed. 

Lily sighs, irritated at your movement as she attempts to work on your injury. 

"Joel, go wait in the other room. I'll be there in a sec to get you stitched up." 

Your hand lowers to the bed despondent when Joel says nothing. He takes one lingering last look at you and then he's stalking away from the bed, slamming the door behind him. 

///

Lily doesn't let you leave the infirmary until late the next afternoon with a bandaged leg and a few pain pills in a bag. She gives you crutches to use, citing you probably won't need them long. 

She sends you home with specific care instructions that include finding her the second the site begins to swell. 

You attempt to use the crutches but find them more cumbersome than helpful. You make your way home stiffly, trying to focus on not slipping with your psyched leg, ignoring the looks that the others give you on your journey. 

You settle in on the couch, napping and taking pain pills when necessary. The sky darkens and your mind goes to Joel. You hope he got patched up okay. You don't remember hearing him after Lily left your room. 

You're a little surprised he hasn't been by to check on you today. A part of you thought that he'd want to be after everything that happened. You know you wish you were in his strong arms right now, feeling protected. 

I wanna give you everythin'.

There was something about the emotion in how he said that, his large hands holding your cheeks. Something that makes you think that perhaps he was thinking the same as you were. 

That you love him. It snuck up on you or maybe it just feels like that. One second he was an asshole you couldn't stand and now he's the one person you want to see more than anything. 

There's a knock on your door just as you think about putting yourself to bed. Relief spreads over your features as you glance at the locked door.

Joel is finally here. 

Delight floods through you, combating the sting that goes along with standing and hobbling over to the door. You tug it open, surprised to see that it's Tommy on your porch. 

"I come bearing food," he says, raising a crochet bag to eye level. Whatever's inside smells amazing and your stomach rumbles. You give him an appreciative grin, pushing the door open. 

"Come in." 

Tommy enters the home, closing the door behind him. He places the bag on the coffee table where you have your leg propped up. He looks at the injury, his lips thinning before he forces a weak smile.  

"So how's the patient?"

"The patient is doing okay," you shrug, yawning from both fatigue and the pills. "What's in the bag?"

"Stew and Maria sent over cookies," he tells you pointing at the bag. "She says there nowhere as good as yours but that she hopes you like ‘em anyway." 

You give a soft chuckle at that while Tommy looks around your home, observing the small pieces of yourself that you've started decorating with. The framed photo of your parents on the mantle of the fireplace, the paper flowers on your dining table. The space is far from homey, but it's getting there. 

"You need anything ‘side from food?"

"Nah."

You shake your head. Tommy exhales slowly, coming to sit on the coffee table, facing you with his hands folded between his legs. He looks serious. 

"Joel told me what happened to y'all out there." 

You wince, not wanting to think about what occurred. Tommy seems to understand this and so he speaks softer, more gently. 

"I know it's askin' a lot, but you got enough energy to answer a few questions about it?"

You swallow. "Sure." 

"Joel tells me the fella was older, early sixties."

"Yeah."

"He look well fed?" 

"No, pretty thin from what I remember." 

"Any distinguishing features?"

"Not really. Just old." 

Tommy swipes a hand down his face in thought. "Did he say if there were more of ‘em?"

You take a moment to think about what happened. 

"I can't remember," you answer honestly after a beat. "I don't think so."

"S'what Joel said," Tommy sighs, looking grim. "Was hoping you mighta heard somethin' more."

"Honestly I don't remember much. I was hiding behind Joel for most of it."

There's a shame that comes with that admittance, embarrassed that while Joel stood between you and a loaded gun all you did was cower pathetically behind him. 

Everything is so tinted with panic and fear that it's hard to hold onto any details outside your own terror.  You attempt to hide a yawn but Tommy sees it, giving you a smile that doesn't touch his eyes. 

"I should let you rest. I'll stop by tomorrow to see if you need anything else."

He stands, heading towards the door. 

"I'll be fine, Tommy you don't have to do that."

"Maria'll kill me if I don't," Tommy grins and this one seems sincere. You grin back, brows raised when he stops mid-step. 

"If you have the energy tomorrow night we're playin' a movie in town," Tommy suggests brightly. "Curtis and Viper. Thomas found it on the last patrol."

"That sounds fun," you acknowledge, pressing your thumb into your forefinger, distractedly. 

Despite everything, this visit has warmed you, touched by your friend's care for you. When his hand is on the doorknob you add:

"Tell Maria thanks for the cookies."

Tommy grins, giving you a little mock salute before closing the door behind him. 

"Will do." 

///

The medicine does its job and you fall into a fairly dreamless sleep. You wake bleary-eyed with cotton mouth to see it's after eleven. And like most mornings as of late, your thoughts turn to Joel; the tingles that go through you when his beard grazes your neck, the sweet way he exhales when he's inside of you. 

And it's not just the tactile, it's everything. It's him sharing his deepest pains and accepting yours. It's his smile when you say something funny. It's the softness of his eyes

I wanna give you everythin'. 

You want to give him the same. You want nights and days with him, dances and card games, dinners with he and Ellie. A family. 

Images of Jennifer and Ellie go through your mind, going through an imaginary list of their potential responses. In the end you realize it doesn't matter. You're going to tell them tomorrow, you tell yourself. No more waiting.

Jennifer will understand, you're sure of it. She may be hurt at first but she's an understanding woman, she's your best friend. As for Ellie... That may be up to Joel. But either way the truth is coming out. 

The dance is in less than two weeks and you want to go feeling happy and beautiful on Joel's arm. You want people to smile and greet you. You want both of you laughing with Jennifer and Luke, you want to dance with Maria and Tommy there cheering you on.

With this fantasy in mind you shower and dress in fresh clothes, wrapping your red scarf around your neck and tugging on your gloves. 

Your leg is still sore, but you can walk just fine on it, only limping slightly. The pain is nothing to you though because you're buoyed by the promise of Joel's face bleeding into a smile when he sees you, the warmth of his eyes when he opens the door.

You make it there quickly, thankful you don't run into anyone you know on the way. Your heart pounds in anticipation as you rap your knuckles on his door. There's a shuffling and then the door creaks open. Joel stands there dressed in his customary flannel and jeans. His hair is damp from a shower. He blinks at you slowly.

"What're you doin' here?"

The response is colder than anticipated, but you chalk it up to him being in pain. You can see the stitches running over his cheekbone, subtle but there. Another scar, another horrible memory. You reach a hand out to touch him, confused when he steps back further into his home, tilting his face from you. 

Silence falls and he doesn't invite you in. Indecision starts to creep into your belly; making your body feel colder the longer you stand there staring at him. He remains half in the shadow of his dark home. He doesn't look welcoming or even relieved to see you. He seems hard and unmoving. 

"Is Ellie home?"

"School."

“Oh. Good."

He raises a brow at that, a flash of movement on an otherwise stoic face. He doesn't look away from you, but he doesn't beckon you closer. You think perhaps he's feeling a bit out of sorts from what happened and you think perhaps this is a good time to brighten his day. 

“I thought we could talk?”

He turns away from you, walking into the house but leaving the door open. Confused you trail in after him, following him to a room you haven’t seen before. This one is neat and organized. It’s got tables holding papers with scribbled notes, pieces of wood and hammers hung on shelving. Joel is digging around in one of the drawers.

“I’ve never been in here,” you observe. “It’s so organized.”

“Have to be organized if you’re in construction.”

“Guess old habits die hard,” you offer brightly, coming to stand behind him. Your hands trail over the wood table, noticing the carved dog in wood. It looks like Buckley.

“Yep,” Joel mutters to the bolts he sorts through. 

You thought that hanging with Joel at his place would be a good idea, a chance to talk and hold one another. But judging by his tense shoulders and the way he won’t look at you, you decide perhaps an outing might be better.

"So there's a movie on tonight. A Curtis Viper one. You were saying that you and Sarah watched those movies right? You wanna go and-"

Joel sighs, throwing the last of the bolts into the drawer. He slams it, turning to face you. He crosses his arms, his lower spine balanced against the table. An ugly darkness has settled over Joel's features. Something you recognize as one recognizes the sound of distant thunder; a warning. It makes the rest of your question die in your throat. 

"I'm not goin' to the movies," Joel says quietly.

There's something about the way he's looking at you, this quietly intense stare that makes you shift the weight from one foot to another. 

"Oh, are you busy?"

"No."

You give an awkward huff of a laugh at his truncated response. A breathless, insecure thing borne of the building gravity in his face. 

"Then, why-"

"Because I'm not your fuckin' boyfriend."

And just like that the cold, cruel Joel is back. 

You thought he'd been cast aside, slain like some mythological creature. But no, he's here in the flesh standing with his painfully beautiful eyes and disdainful curl of his mouth. You feel uneasy, a creeping insecurity flirting across your features. 

"I never said you were, Joel."

No, the words had never been spoken aloud. But hadn't they been there, seeping through the cracks? Hadn't it been whispered in the touch of his fingers on your skin? Hadn't it been huffed over your heart when you told him about your sister and he told you about Sarah? Hadn't the two of you morphed from something more than just patrol partners? 

Apparently to Joel that's all you two remain. He stands with his feet planted, dragging his muscled arms into a tight cross over his chest. You wish he'd look away from you with that ugly expression, but at the same time you long to look at his face. 

"I’m not fuckin' you anymore," Joel says stiffly. "I'm done with all that." 

You feel the way your eyes well at the cut of his tone. You swallow thickly and as your do you see it - the flash of soft that creeps into his gaze. The brows that almost saddle before forcing themselves into a knot. He turns angrily, facing away from you to busy himself with his tools. 

"Joel, please," you say barely above a whisper, blinking back the tears that threaten to spill over your lash line. 

"Please what?"

You exhale softly before wiping your damp eyes with the back of your sleeve.

"Please don't do whatever it is you're doing."

You watch his shoulders sag, head facing down. 

"What am I doin'?"

"Pushing me away." You blink at his back. "What I don't understand is why you're doing it."

"You're actin' like we were in some kind of relationship," Joel says, the sneer evident in his tone. "We were just fuckin’ each other because we were bored."

"That's not true," you tell his shoes.

"It is true," Joel says, voice dead. He starts busying himself with putting away his tools.

You stare at his broad shoulders a moment, wanting to pull him harshly to face you. Insist with a scream that he tell you the truth.

"We wouldn't share the things we've shared with each other if this was just sex," you insist, chin wobbling. "You... You wouldn't ask me to go to the holiday party."

He falters for only a moment, his broad hand sweeping a few screws into a drawer.

"I would if I wanted to get you in bed," Joel says over his shoulder and you don't miss the ugly curl of his mouth as he says it. 

 "Joel, you can't-"

"You're a good lay," Joel cuts you off. "But I'm bored of it so I'm done. You’re gonna have to find a new fuck buddy." 

You let out a soft sound halfway between a whimper and a gasp. It physically hurts to hear this coming from Joel, to hear the words that you secretly feared. That you pinned all this affection on a man who saw you as nothing more than ready sex. 

But you don't want to believe him.

"Joel you can't... You don't mean that."

He balances the base of his spine against the table before launching off of it. He comes to tower over you, tilting his neck down, forcing you to look into his face. His eyes are fierce.

"I'm only sayin’ this once and then I want you outta my house." His voice has dropped to a menacing baritone. "I don't wanna see you anymore."

You physically recoil at this statement, not just from the words but from the dark pitch of his eyes. 

"I don't need some useless patrol partner who can't even shoot straight clinging to me like some needy little-"

He stops abruptly when he sees your shaky hand rise between the two of you. It's like you're holding him off from physically attacking. 

"Stop," you all but beg, cringing away from him. "Just... Stop."

Joel's mouth closes slowly, jaw clenched so tightly it tics. It’s almost like he catches himself and you’re half convinced you see regret in his gaze.

Useless. 

The world is tilting, growing hazy as you try to steady yourself. You take a moment to breathe deeply, trying to organize the thoughts racing in your mind.

Joel doesn't care for you at all. You're a fucking idiot to have thought he could. You built up this vision in your head of some tragic romantic figure when he's been clear all along. He never promised you anything, never claimed he liked you outside of your time fucking together. You pieced that together with your own delusion, taking snippets of moments and trying to give them deeper meaning. 

"I'll leave you alone," you tell him in a shaky voice. You blink rapidly, refusing to cry in front of him. "I... I'll... I'll go. Just please stop talking."

You twist around, swallowing the sob in your chest. You grope for the doorframe, the world becoming a watercolor blur. You move into the cold of the night and it stings the tears on your cheeks. 

You think you hear his footsteps coming towards you, creaking over the wood porch and you hold your breath. Seconds pass and you realize it's your imagination. 

You're alone. 

As you walk back to your home in a daze you think of the doe that first day on patrol. The empty look in its eyes after Joel killed it. At the time you'd only been able to think of Chiyo, about how his eyes had that same glazed look when you killed him. 

But now you realize you were the doe all along, just waiting for Joel Miller to strike.

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

WARNINGS/TAGS/DO NOT READ FURTHER UNLESS YOU WANT SHIT TO BE POTENTIALLY SPOILED.

tags/warnings: romance, love, soft!Joel, ANGST, gore, blood, Animal death, human death, mentions of guns, P in V (protected), oral (m and f receiving), dirty talk, trauma, clickers, horror. I think that's it.

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

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SMTL Chapter 18 PART 1

I couldn't wait to post...

PLEASE READ: This is PART 1 of 2 for this chapter because apparently Tumblr wants to make my life a nightmare and won't let me post the whole thing in one. So please don't panic, PART TWO IS HERE.

Also important: TAGS AND WARNINGS FOR THE WHOLE CHAPTER ARE FOUND AT THE BOTTOM OF THE CHAPTER UNDER THE JOEL GIF. SCROLL THERE TO SEE ANY WARNINGS OR TAGS.

And lastly... please review. This chapter is over 30K. It was re-written after laptopgate 2024. It is blood, sweat and tears. Please review, reblog, and COMMENT. Even if you're mad at me.

Daylight bleeds into the bedroom, waking you with a gentle stir. Delight rests heavily in your belly making the world tinge a pink and yellow glow. Joel asking you to the dance. Holding your hand until the two of you made it back to town. But then just as quickly as you glow from the inside regret creeps in, darkening the moment.

Jennifer.

You have to tell Jennifer.

You’re desperate to get this ugliness out of the way. You want the party to be fun. You want the two of you to dance with your men without having to hide it. You want to giggle with her about Joel, to confess to her how you feel about him like girlfriends do. 

So an hour later you head over to her place with a coffee for her, surprised to see her still in her pajamas when she opens the door, her eyes red -rimmed.  She always looks beautiful, but today she appears to have been crying.

"Hey," you chirp happily extending the coffee to her. "Up for a visit and some shooting?" 

"Visit yes, shooting no." 

Your smile drops as she gives a sniffle. She takes the coffee from you before indicating that you should enter. You follow her to her couch, noticing that even up close she looks a bit drawn. You feel a twinge of panic.

"Jenny, what's going on?" 

Jennifer sighs, scrubbing her hand down her face.  

"It's Oliver," she says quietly. "He uh, he and his girlfriend got back together last night. He just came by this morning to tell me face to face. Said he felt like he owed it to me." 

Fuck.  

"I'm so sorry," you say, your hand going to her shoulder. 

"It's not your fault," she says taking a sip of coffee. 

Isn't it? 

You pushed her into Oliver's arms without knowing anything about him. You encouraged the romance for your own selfish gain. And now look at what happened, Jennifer, the sweetest woman alive feels like shit. 

"The worst part is I thought I really liked him," she says scoffing to herself. "But I don't know if I liked him or I just liked not being alone."

Jennifer was always one of those women that you saw surrounded by men and women. People clamored to be around her, to exist in her orbit. They still do, but something has changed. You see it when she's in a crowd, her smile not as bright. 

"I used to like the flirting and the sex and all that distraction," she explains. "But now, I dunno." 

She's quiet and you don’t like the downcast expression in her face. Guilt consumes you when you see how devastated she looks. And you know it’s because of your own selfishness that she’s like this.

"Is there anything I can do?"

She gives you a weak smile.

"Can we take a break from talking about men?" She laughs, rolling her eyes. "I'm sick of ‘em."

You swallow. So much for sharing about Joel. Bringing that up right now would only hurt her further. You force a smile to your face. 

"Yeah, of course."

///

"Let's go for a walk.”

“I dunno…”

You’re at Maria’s house on her front porch, your mind whirring about Jennifer. You thought that a visit to Maria might help. She’s answered the door dressed, but her hair is askew. Stains litter the front of her shirt. Tommy comes up behind her, gazing at the back of her head. He holds a grunting Douglas in his arms, smiling at you.

“What’s goin’ on?”

“Trying to convince your wife to go for a walk with me,” you chirp merrily waving a bag in the air. “I even brought a carrot to feet Chestnut if you want.”

Maria still looks tentative; it's if she wants to turn down this idea. But you know how much she loves the animals. You know she’s been hiding herself indoors and you just know some fresh air would do her good.

“Go on, honey,” Tommy encourages gently. “Me and Douglas are just goin’ for breakfast anyway.”

“Make sure he-“

“Has his thick socks,” Tommy finishes for her with a gentle nod. “I know, Maria.”

Maria relents with a small smile in his direction. She presses a small kiss to Douglas’ forehead and Tommy’s cheek. You watch her pull on her boots and her thick winter jacket and the two of you make your way towards the stables. 

Maria has that distant look you associate with folks you've run across in your years since the outbreak. Eyes that have the life sucked out of them, cold and blurry like they're somewhere else. 

She walks next to you in silence, her hands shoved deep in her heavy coat pockets. For once it's you who needs to chatter away, still uneasy about how to speak with her when she's so withdrawn. You don't want to push her further into herself, but you also don't want to trudge beside her in silence. 

You smile at this. Maria looks up ahead to the stable and barn where several sections of the livestock are held. 

"When I first got here I used to come here all the time," you explain as you walk beside her. "I liked watching the chickens. When I first got here there were tons of chicks. So cute and fuzzy." 

Maria hums a response and any further comments you might have made fall into the snow, forgotten. 

Eventually the two of you come to the entrance of the barn. You unlatch it, tugging it open with a creak. Maria enters first, kicking the snow from her boots on the cement floor. You follow after her, closing the door with a thump. 

The barn inside is quiet, peaceful even in the early hour of the morning. The chickens are in this section, clucking madly as you pass. 

"Sorry folks, not breakfast for you yet." 

Maria smiles and you feel relief that her mood already rising. Goats bleet quietly on the other side of the barn, some of the kids kicking up hay. You and Maria take your time here, walking and watching the animals play. Some nuzzle your hand when you reach into the pen. 

You spot a light grey nanny goat at the far corner of the pen, lying in the straw. Two little ones with similar coloring nestle against her plump belly sleeping soundly. 

Maria runs her hand along the wood fencing that keeps them penned in. She sighs heavily. The Nanny goat raises her head sleepily at Maria, watching her with marble eyes before going back to resting. 

You feel rather than see Maria shake her head. 

"You know what's funny? I helped make this barn. I helped fix up the old houses and man the dam and build these very pens." She clicks her tongue, as if amazed. "And until Douglas I never really slowed down enough to really see it, you know?"

You don't say anything; you just stand next to her, shoulders almost touching as you stare at the goat. Maria needs to talk and you need to listen, it's as simple as that. 

"When you move fast it's real easy to overlook stuff. Like, that my baby is gonna grow up in this place, probably gonna run things if he's anything like me or Tommy... Or me." She smiles. "But that's a real uncertain future. What if the dam stops working? What if things get worse?" 

She looks at you now and you turn to face her, your arm resting on the fence. 

"We were so damn selfish bringing a baby into this shit."

Her eyes are filled with tears, fresh ones and you watch her chin tremble. She looks away from you, back at the goat and her kids. One of the kids has woken up, stretching. Maria folds her arms on the fence before lowering her head to bury her face in them. She's so broken that it actually hurts you to watch it. 

Your hand goes between her shoulder blades, rubbing gentle circles. She allows this, not tensing under your touch. 

The kid makes its way over to you both across the straw, giving soft little bleets. You cast a smile, watching as it attempts to nibble at the bottom of Maria's pants. 

"It's nature, Maria," you offer softly. "It's natural for some people to have the desire to create new life with someone they love." 

"You wouldn't," Maria says sharply. She's prickly now, exposed and hurt. She waits for your response with the look of someone waiting for a slip up. Or maybe hope that she's wrong. She deserves more than a lie.

"No," you admit truthfully with a slow shake of your head. "I probably wouldn't." 

Maria looks at the goat by her feet. 

"But you're so good with Douglas and you get along so well with Ellie."

You grin. 

"Well Douglas is an angel and Ellie, yeah, she's a cool kid. I probably like them so much because I don't have any of my own. Love surplus."

Maria seems to find this amusing because she looks at you with a small smile. 

"A love surplus. I like that." 

The two of you go back to looking at the animals, watching the Nanny goat who has just now realized that one of her babies is missing. She rises shakily before moving over to the quietly bleeting kid by you. 

"She doesn't know about tomorrow," you tell Maria, pointing at the mother goat. "She just knows she has a kid that she brought into this world and needs to protect it. That's all she can do. That's all she can control." 

Maria is quiet for a moment, absorbing what you’ve said. 

"Are you really comparing me to a fucking goat?'

You hear the levity in Maria's voice and it brings a smile to your face. 

"Yeah, I guess I am." 

She gives you a playful shove with her shoulder. You grin before urging her to follow you to the closed barn door leading to the stables. You open the adjoining door to the stalls and feel your chest tighten when a familiar broad shouldered figure is seen standing by the pens. 

He's murmuring something to Chestnut, patting his nuzzle. But when the door creaks open he glances over quickly in the direction of the sound. When he sees you and Maria his brows rise in surprise. Maria walks towards him with a wave. 

"What are you doing here, Miller?"  

"Needed a break from Ellie. She’s found a new CD and she won’t stop fucking playin’ it. Givin’ me a headache."

He shakes his head good naturedly, as if to say some people’s kids.  But there’s no anger in it, no resentment, just gentle amusement.

“How about you two?”

"This one insisted I get out of the house," she says with a thumb pointed over her shoulder at you. 

Joel's eyes slide over to you, the depths of the dark brown color warm and sweet.

"Good." 

You feel your cheeks heating as he gazes at you before he drags his eyes back to a whinnying Chestnut.  

"I know, I know, your favorite girl's here," he murmurs to the horse. Something about the way he says it makes your heart flutter.  

"I thought we could come give Chestnut a snack," you explain holding up the carrots in front of you.  

"Only if you brought enough for the rest of the class," Joel teases. 

"We have enough." 

You hand Maria a few of the carrots from the bundle. You step towards Chestnut in his paddock walking back and forth eagerly as you approach. 

"I'll feed these guys," Maria says leaning over the opposite paddock to run her hand over Glimmers muzzle. Midnight stands in the corner, looking with uncertainty between you and Maria. 

Joel moves a little closer to you at the fence of the paddock, his eyes scanning the horses before you feel them coming back to land on your face. 

You can't look at him though; you know you'll give everything away if you do. It's getting impossible not to gaze at Joel these days, your eyes heavy with longing. Instead you keep your attention on the horse, your face warm. 

"Hello handsome boy," you croon at Chestnut. "Did you have a good sleep?"

Chestnut comes trotting over to see you, his downy muzzle coming to rub your cheek. You giggle at the sensation before raising the carrot in his direction.

"Okay charmer, relax. You're getting one." 

Maria feeds Glimmer and a few of the other horses as Chestnut chomps away on his treat, the chewing noises loud and pleasant. You place a kiss to the center of his forehead before rubbing his flicking ears. 

You hear Maria's entreating voice. 

"C'mon boy. Just a nibble." 

Maria holds out a carrot to Midnight who still stands off to the side looking petulant as the rest of the horses enjoy their morning treat.  

"He's a toughie," Maria says in amusement, holding the remaining carrot outstretched towards you. "You try." 

"I think Joel'll have better luck," you tell her, unable to look at the man as you say it. "Midnight likes him best." 

You feel Joel shuffle a little closer beside you, his forearms resting on the wood fence. He scratches his beard absently while he looks to the Midnight staring balefully at everyone. 

"You should do it," Joel says to the back of your head. "He's gotta learn to be less stubborn if he wants somethin'." 

You smirk at that before giving a shrug. "Sure, I'll try." 

You take the carrot from Maria, going to stand closer to Midnight's section of the pen. You hear Joel following you close behind. 

"He's picky," Joel informs you. "He only eats from the palm 'a your hand. Small pieces." 

You nod, cracking the carrot into several bite sized pieces before cupping them in your palm. You tilt over the paddock, clicking your tongue. 

Joel waves off the other horses who linger, waiting for a chance to get extra. 

Midnight watches Joel standing behind you before taking a wary step forward. You flinch when Joel's hand goes to your waist, holding you against him. His mouth is at your ear. 

"Stay real still or you'll spook him."

His hand squeezes your waist gently and your body trembles in response at being so close to him in front of someone else. 

You sneak a glance to see Maria's eyes fixed on Chestnut. She kisses the horse between the eyes, gently murmuring to him. You look back to see Midnight keeping his eyes on Joel as he ambles over, his nose twitching, catching the scent of the carrots. 

"Palm flat," Joel says huskily in your ear. You suppress a shiver at the sensation of his warm breath huffing against your earlobe. 

You know how to feed a horse from your hand safely. You're about to tell him as much when you feel his wide hand going to yours. He stands behind you, cupping the back of your hand in his and rising it towards the waiting horse.

You watch his arm under yours, lifting your hand and flattening. Your palm goes flat, the carrot pieces bunched together. Your breathing is unsteady, and you should be looking at Midnight but all you can focus on is how Joel's thumb strokes the side of your wrist. 

"Just let him take it."

You swallow at this, trying not to observe how silky Joel's voice has gotten. How it's dripping, sinfully sweet in your ear like honey. 

One hand stays on your hip, squeezing slightly. The other still holds your own hand under Midnight's mouth. Midnight still waits, looking at you with large, shiny eyes. 

"Go on," you say softly. 

You watch the distrustful animal bend forward, huffs of warm air falling over your palm. Then with gentle precision you feel him take the first piece of carrot into his mouth, crunching quickly. 

Joel's warm mouth is at your ear, his voice dropping an octave. 

"Good girl." 

It's murmured quietly. Your face feels like it has a heartbeat, throbbing in time with your pulse. You don't even mean to, but you let out a shudder exhale.  You hear Joel's breathing hitch before he steps back from you, clearing his throat. 

"Tommy up with the baby?"

Maria nods, staring at Glimmer.

"Yeah, when we left they were heading for breakfast."

"Might join him. I'll see ya later." 

You watch as Joel gives you both a short wave before ducking out the side door of the barn, closing it behind him. 

You cling to the fencing, feeling like you're going to pass out. There's something about Joel that gets you so wound up. You wanted nothing more than go home with him right now, to force him into bed and to ride him until his eyes roll back in his head. 

"We should head back too," Maria announces before shooting you a smile. "This was a good idea. Thanks." 

You grin; delight blooming behind your ribs. Maria already looks much more at ease, her countenance relaxed as the two of you walk back to her house. You can see the fresh tracks left by Joel in the snow, a trail leading you both home. 

"I like the two of you together."

Maria says this suddenly, breaking you from your thoughts. You fight to keep your face and voice neutral. 

"Who?"

"You and Joel."

Your head jerks back to face her, your eyes wide. You physically come to a stop, sliding in the icy patch of wet snow. 

"Excuse me?" 

Maria's eyes bounce between yours, trying to read your expression. 

"We're not …. That's not..." You stammer further when Maria stares at you, a playful smirk crossing her lips. 

"I’m not blind," she states sagely and you can see in her eyes that there's a relief in her knowing this part of you. Like she isn't the only one being vulnerable in this friendship. You feel the walls start to come down.

"It's new. I don't exactly know what it is." 

"But you're happy?"

A flush crawls up your neck as you suppress a small smile.  "Yeah." 

"I always thought there might be something there," Maria says tilting her head after the direction he left in. "You're a good match. Always thought so."

"Yeah, well, like I said it's still new. Nothing's official." 

Maria opens her mouth to say something but then thinks better of it. She settles for walking quietly with you towards her place. 

"I don't want people knowing," you say quietly. "Not until I've figured some stuff out. I'm pretty sure Joel feels the same." 

"Your secret's safe with me," she assures you with a pat on the back of your arm. "I won't say a word to anyone, not even Tommy. Not until you're both ready."

You don't speak anymore on it, but there's a lightness in you at having shared this. A strange relief that bubbles up in your chest at the realization that someone else knows about you and Joel. And that there was no recrimination or judgment involved. 

When you approach her house you see one of Maria's neighbors, Bethany, there with a pie, waving at you both. 

"I was hoping to have a visit," she tells Maria as the two of you approach. Your friend holds in a grimace, forcing a weak looking smile 

"That's so kind, Beth but I'm a little tired."

"Well that's fine by me. I'll just come read by the fire while you nap."

The woman's face is sweet and you can see the anxiety there in her eyes. Maria sighs before nodding, realization hitting you both. Tommy set this up in case he wasn't home yet. A babysitter. 

You and Maria bid each other a goodbye with a quick hug and then your feet are hurriedly making their way towards the dining hall. 

You're hoping to catch up with Joel. 

You feel like you're turning into a bloodhound because you're certain you can smell the leather of his jacket in the air. You round the corner of Magnolia Street and see his broad figure walking slowly down the sidewalk. 

Some folks wave a hello to him as they pass and you fight the urge to call out his name. Instead you walk quicker, watching his long legs carrying him to the dining hall. 

You watch as he comes to a stop in front of one of the shops, peering in and glancing around in the display window. 

You walk casually towards him, your boots crunching snow underfoot. Joel must hear you approaching because his dark eyes dart up to catch yours in the windows' reflection. Something about the sight makes your stomach flip. 

You walk up to him casually, aware that there could be eyes on you. You keep your eyes on his reflection, your heart loud in your ears. 

"You wanna come over for coffee?" 

Joel’s brow furrows.

"Thought you didn't drink coffee."

"Wasn't really talking about coffee."

You can't help the little smirk that crosses your mouth when you say this, surprised at even yourself. You don't miss the grin Joel hides behind his palm. 

"Yeah, okay."

He follows you home and then upstairs to your bedroom and fucks you so hard that your headboard chips some of the plaster off your wall. You laugh about it after when he remarks that he's "too strong for my own good” after coming so hard your body twitches well into the afterglow. You feel drowsy, facing Joel, his hand over yours. Your eyes are closed but you feel him staring at you.

“What was Tommy talkin’ about that night in the Bison?”

“Huh?”

“You were with your friends talkin’ about repairs he said somethin’ about  rememberin’ you and the stables.”

You cheeks flush with embarrassment at the memory. The day Joel sat next to you in the pub while Tommy brought up your embarrassing lack of carpentry skills and you go to pull the sheet further up your body.

“When I got here I volunteered to help with rebuilding the stables. Only I’m just as shit at repairs as I am with patrols.”

“You’re not shit with patrols.”

“Oh no?” you roll onto your side, grinning at him. “I feel like you may only be saying that considering what we’ve done on them.”

“Nah,” Joel says softly. “You got good eyes and good ears, and I’m a good shot. We make a good team.”

You snuggle closer to him in the bed, head resting on his chest and the two of you fall into a drowsy mid-day nap. You can hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat underneath, lulling you into a comfortable half-slumber and before long you wake still in his arms. A moment of concern hits you when you see the sky is starting to darken and you glance up to see Joel is already awake, looking at you.  

“Will Ellie be waiting for you?”

“Nah, she’s visitin’ her friend.”

“So you can stay a little longer?”

You feel Joel’s smile on the top of your head. “Yeah.”

Thoughts of Ellie bubble up in your mind, her sweet smile and the way she talks about Joel like he’s the most wonderful man she knows. There’s a familial feeling despite their lack of blood relation.

“Ellie doesn’t really talk about how you two know each other,” you tell him, gazing up his shoulder. “She’s private like you.”

Joel exhales gently, his dark eyes unfocussed as he stares off into middle distance.

“I was takin’ her to the Fireflies. Tess and I were, actually.”

Tess, his not-quite-girlfriend if you recall correctly. The Fireflies that radical group your dad told you about.

“I didn’t wanna do it, but Tess had that way of persuadin’ me.” Joel rubs at the back of his neck. He speaks slowly, deliberately. “Tess got infected pretty early on, but she made me promise to take Ellie all the way to the Fireflies. It was the least I could do for her.”

Joel takes a deep breath, thinking back.

“S’funny, I couldn’t stand the kid when I first met her. Thought she was annoyin’ and reckless. But, you know Ellie, she has a way of makin’ you come around to her.”

You smile. Yes, she certainly does.

“Anyway, took us a while to get there and when we got there to the hospital, they. . . “ Joel blinks rapidly, his chest rising. “They wanted to operate on her. Cut open her brain and see if they could find the cure that way.”

“What the fuck?” It comes out of you in a rush, your eyes widening in disgust. You push up in the bed, clutching the blanket over your bare chest. “She was okay with it?”

“She didn’t know.”

Anger flashes in your eyes, unmistakable.

“How…Was it guaranteed? This cure?”

Joel shakes his head slowly. Your mind races, trying to understand how Ellie went from being with the Fireflies in the hospital, her life at stake, to living with Joel in blissful youth. It doesn’t add up.

“But, how did she get out?”

Joel sweeps his eyes to you, seeing your hand raised to your mouth and you almost wish he hadn’t. His big, dark eyes are so fucking broken that it literally takes your breath away. It’s like you can see the hurt living in him.

“I couldn’t save Sarah, but I could save Ellie.”

It feels like a gut punch and you go still, your eyes searching his.

“You got her out?”

“Yes.”

He stares you down, almost daring you to force him to justify his actions. It’s like he wants your ire or your disgust. You give him neither, instead you take his hand, nodding. You understand. You picture sweet, childish Ellie in a hospital gown; knocked out and unknowing her short life was at an end.

You can’t say you wouldn’t have done the same if you had the same tactical skill set.

“I’m done having the people I love taken from me,” Joel murmurs.

“Same here.”

There’s a heavy emotion in the air, something sweet that lingers. But it makes you feel strange, almost anxious. Despite this you take his face in yours and press a kiss to his pouty lips. You don’t miss the sheen to his eyes as he kisses you back, lowering you onto the mattress and making love to you slow and deep.

Help me forget, his body whispers, each groan and thrust a silent beg for you to take him away from that darkness. To repay him for all the times he’s made it go quiet for you. And you do, body drawing him closer, soft exhalations of his name again his neck.

You both continue to lay in the bed afterwards, sex warmed and intimate. You hear Joel begin to hum under his breath, a twangy tune you half remember. You let it twist lazily through the air, the deep notes spinning slowly in your mind. You prop your cheek up with one hand so you can grin at him. 

"Have you always been musical?"

"Since I could afford an instrument," Joel says with a far-off in his eyes. "Wanted to be a famous singer when I was a kid." 

"Yeah? Johnny Cash?"

"The man in black himself." Joel chuckles softly at your amused grin. "But I'm not a suit guy."

You watch his chest rise and fall in the following quiet. Your free hand twitches before it goes to rest gently over his sternum. You feel the smooth of his chest and the strength of his heartbeat thumping steadily under your touch. He covers your hand there with his own heavy palm, keeping it there, keeping you close. 

"Sarah always got embarrassed when I sang in the car with her," Joel grins, eyes unfocused. "I'd be drivin' her to soccer practice and Elvis or somethin' would come on. I'd start singing and she'd cover her ears moaning that I was embarrassin' her." 

You grin at the remembrance of being a teenager girl with an embarrassing dad. Before everything went to shit you were a teenage girl who loved riding horses, going to the mall, reading, flirting with the guy that worked at the movie theatre. Anything to be considered cool. 

When your own father threatened to take you to school in his pyjamas and walk you to class if you skipped out of math again it had felt like the end of the world. 

How strange that the end of the world would happen not long after. 

"Did you ever want to be anything else?"

"Oh sure," Joel shrugs. "When my dad was teachin' me n' Tommy how to shoot I was convinced I was gonna be a hunter and that I'd live off the land, have my own farm. Then when I played highschool football I figured I'd do that professionally until Sarah came along."

You watch him speak, your mouth slightly agape as you take in every word he says. Every time he takes a breath you're worried that he's finished, that no more stories will be told. 

Suddenly you understand why Ellie sits and stares at you when you talk about the past, why she urges you to tell her more and more. 

This is an insight into a world you don't know, a world where Joel played guitar and dreamt about being a singer. A world where he went to Sarah's soccer matches. You want to learn more, to hear more. 

"What was Sarah like?"

It slips out of you before you can help yourself. It spills over your lips before you can realize how personal a question it is. Joel's dark eyes grow glossy in the moonlight and you mentally kick yourself.

"She was funny," Joel says, surprising you. He inhales slowly, eyes distant. "She was so damn funny without even tryin' to be. And she loved goin' to museums. I think I took her to every single one in Texas by the time she was twelve. She loved watching bad movies with me. I remember our favorites were the Curtis and Viper ones. You know those?"

"Action movie?"

"Yeah."

"Then no. I was strictly a rom-com girl back then," you smile as you jiggle your hand against his sternum, prompting him. "What else?"

Joel gives a grin. 

"She was beautiful, had the most beautiful smile and she was so loving. To animals, to other people. That was my girl, all heart."

You close your eyes, imagining this girl with a bright smile and gentle disposition. You wish you could have seen more than the one photo of her you got from Maria.  

"She was smart as hell too, smarter than I ever was." He sniffs softly. "N' so responsible... Too responsible, maybe. I think she felt like she had to take care of me sometimes." 

"Take care of you?" You hope the shock isn't too evident in your features. The thought The Joel Miller would need someone taking care of him of all people surprises you. 

"Yeah, I think because..." Joel looks puzzled, as if explaining is impossible. "I think she saw me single, workin' all the time at a job I didn't really love, takin' care of Tommy, no social life, and she felt like I needed to be taken care of too. Was just in her nature to think of other people." 

You both fall silent as the words settle in your mind. 

"She sounds like an amazing kid," you finally whisper. "You were lucky to have her."

Joel's head slowly tilts until he's facing you, his gaze fixed and gentle. 

"Yeah. I was." 

You nod, lowering your cheek back to your pillow now. Your palm is still flat on Joel's sternum, his big hand over yours. You watch them rise and fall as he breathes, slow and steady. You chance a look up at his expression even though tears are prickling the back of your eyes. He's got a wet look to his gaze, the kind that turns his dark eyes into glassy marbles. 

You shuffle up the bed slightly, sliding your hand to his neck before kissing him slowly. His hand finds itself cupping your jaw as your lips move against one another. Joel sees you about to nod off, wrapping his arms around you and settling against you in the bed. You shift until he's curled around you, his mouth at your shoulder. 

"Sleep." 

Immediately you feel yourself dropping off. You think he says something but you can't be sure and you can't reply. You're asleep, nestled in the safe harbor of Joel Miller's arms. 

///

"What are you signing up to bring?"

It's later that week and you and Jennifer are crowded around the notice board in town. You've both been reading the potluck list for the winter party. You can't help but feel your stomach do a little jump when a familiar name pops up on the list in familiar sharp script.

Joel Miller - drinks

You hide your smirk. How Joel Miller. 

A pencil tied to string is pinned into the cork next to the brightly colored paper. You take it in your hand, hunching over. 

"I think I'll bring brownies," you say as you write your name and the dessert onto the potluck list. "I've got a good recipe for it at home." 

"Oh that's a good idea," Jennifer nods, looking at the list with scrutiny. Many names are already on the list along with items. Soup, bread, fruit preserves, casserole, vegetables. 

"I think I'll bring... Apples."

You turn around and laugh sharply at your friend. 

"Everyone loves apples," Jennifer laughs back. "They keep the doctor away."

"Jenny, you can't be serious," you say giggling still. 

"I can't bake very well! You know that!"

Jennifer is laughing but you can sense a bit of insecurity there as well. She's good at so much in the world, but not this. You give her a half smile, shaking your head in amusement. You go back to the list and add Jennifer's name before writing "apple tarts" next to it. 

"Hey I -"

"I'll be making them for you," you tell her, holding a hand up before she can deny this. "You're making me a whole dress, Jenny. Let me make you some fucking tarts." 

Arm in arm the two of you laugh all the way to the dining hall, breaking apart when you see an anxious-looking Ellie waving you over. Jennifer sees a few of her friends at the far side and mentions she’s going to catch up with them.

You sit across from Ellie, taking in the girl’s frantic features.

“I need your advice.”

You nod, attempting to listen but all you can think about is how you’re going to tell both she and Jennifer about you and Joel. You’ve both been so busy you haven’t seen much of each other to talk. It seems whenever the two of you do find time, most of it is spent with him between your legs and you falling asleep in his arms. Part of you doesn’t want to bring up the potential awkwardness of what’s to come. You don’t want to think of Jennifer hating you or Ellie being disgusted.

“….on Thursday?”

You're completely distracted, your eyes glazed as Ellie sits across from you. She repeats the question twice before snapping and calling your name. You blink, coming to attention. 

"Huh? What?"

The sounds of the dining hall come flooding back, reminding you where you are.

"I said Dina is coming over for dinner Thursday night," Ellie explains patiently. "And I wanna make it special. So could you help me make something good for dessert?"

"Sure, of course." You pause as you think about it. "I could actually use some practice baking apple tarts. How about I come over Wednesday after your school is done?"

"Great," Ellie says, satisfied.  

"So," you offer gently, not wanting to come off as annoying. "Is it like a date?"

"Don't know how much of a date it can be if Joel is sitting there scowling at the other end of the table," Ellie says with a frown. 

"I don't think he'd do that," you offer. "He'd give you privacy." 

"You don't know Joel," Ellie laughs into her porridge.

Her reply eases your mind. She clearly doesn't even suspect about you and Joel. You both need to talk about how you're going to explain it to Ellie. Something tells you it's got to be handled delicately and it should come from Joel. You don’t want to step on anyone’s toes.

///

"Damn, you're getting really good!"

You flush at the praise from Luke at the side of the target, giggling when Jennifer claps wildly for you. 

"It's just a lucky shot."

"One is lucky," Jennifer assures you, taking the gun from your hand. "Four is a talent."

You feel delight at this. Jennifer is a really good shot so to have her praising your skills makes it feel like you might sincerely be improving. 

You're glad to see her out here pink-cheeked and looking happy. She's even wearing a new jacket she made with embroidered roses along the collar. 

You went to her this morning and after a bit of gentle prodding she decided she was tired of being miserable and that she needed to get out and forget all about Oliver. 

So with Jennifer's gun slung over your shoulder you both knocked on Luke's door and the three of you make your way to the target practice site. 

You've all been taking turns with Jenny's gun, practicing your shots. It's at the range and no one is around. Tin cans and targets are set up far away. 

You watch as Luke sets up the tin cans you knocked over along the log before jogging back, his air huffing in front of him in the chilly air. 

Jennifer focuses her light eyes, lips thinning as she hones in on the targets. Her lean finger wraps around the trigger and then a crack sounds out and you see the first can shoot up into the sky. 

1, 2, 3, 4, 5... All of them go up into the air, knocked perfectly out of the way of the others. 

She readjusts her stance.

... 6,7,8,9,10. 

And on the tenth when the can flies up she shoots again, spearing it out of midair. Your jaw drops as it slams into the snow with finality. 

Just when you were feeling good about your four shots she goes and pulls off a perfect ten. Luke bounces up and down whistling

"Damn, Jenny!" 

You can't help but cheer loudly because that's some remarkably impressive shooting. You feel a tiny stab of jealousy at how easy she makes it look, watching her hand the gun to Luke. 

You take your turn setting up and jog over to the log, uprighting the cans along it for Luke before making your way back through the snow coming to stand next to Jennifer. 

Luke shakes out his arms before raising the weapon and aiming with intense focus. You and Jennifer watch, cheering when he hits most. 

You take a sip of hot chocolate from your Thermos, watching Luke's stance. You make a mental note to square your shoulders more. 

"Hey, come by the shop next week," Jennifer tells you as you both clap at Luke's next shot. "Gotta do the final touches on your dress."

"Sounds great."

Your pulse and heart flutter as you think about yourself in that dress. The graceful way you'll move into the dance, floating between the couples until Joel greets you by bringing you into his arms. You imagine him dipping you, kissing you with gusto, making you swoon inwardly. 

"Your turn."

Luke breaks you from this daydream by handing you the gun with an encouraging smile. You blink before thanking him and taking his spot. 

You raise the gun to your shoulder, bracing it there as Your eyes lower to the scope. The old empty bean can sits there just asking to be knocked over. 

Focus. Go quiet. 

Sometimes it comes to you, that ability to make things go a little quieter. You try to shut out all the noise surrounding you right now but you can't help but catch Luke's low murmur to Jennifer just as you pull the trigger. 

"Have you noticed Joel Miller lately?"

Your gun falters and the shot goes wild, burying itself into the log the cans perch on. You fight to keep your breath even. 

They don't notice your wild shot, both are chatting back and forth, focused on the topic at hand. 

"What do you mean?'

"He's different." Luke's voice is amused as you raise the gun back to your shoulder. "Not as miserable."

"I hadn't really noticed." 

"Bastard must be getting laid."

He and Jennifer share a laugh and you fight to swallow the grin that threatens to spill across your features as you pull the trigger.

///

"We start with the crust because that needs to be refrigerated for thirty minutes.”

It's Wednesday afternoon and you've arrived with all the components needed for apple tarts.

Joel answered the door the second before you knocked, his dark eyes dancing as you smiled at him. You hadn't seen him since Sunday and even though only three days had elapsed you felt yourself hold in a sigh at the sight of him. 

He glanced over his shoulder to ensure Ellie was in the kitchen before sliding a forefinger through the empty belt loop of your jeans. With a gentle tug he pulled you into the house, capturing your lips with his as he closed the door. Then as if everything was normal he gave your ass a pat, nudging you in the direction of the kitchen.

Now you're in the kitchen next to Ellie, vibrating with your desire for him as you pull on your apron, trying very hard to concentrate on the recipe you found in one of the old library books you keep at your house. 

"Will you stay until they're out of the oven?" 

"Sure," you say, trying really hard not to think about Joel in the next room. The two of you begin working on the crust, mixing bowls in hand, butter softening and the sound of faint guitar playing in the background. Joel is playing his guitar and right now you’re dying to listen to him. But you’re here for Ellie and she deserves your undivided attention.

“So, this is all for Dina?”

Ellie flushes to her roots before shrugging; giving a half-smile that is so Joel-coded it makes your chest tighten.

“She uh, she’s good. She gave me a book for me to use when I sketch.”

She awkwardly brushes some of the hair from her face and you’re amused when she leaves behind a swipe of batter along her cheek. You grab a cloth and gently take her chin between your fingers.

“You’re a messy baker,” you tell her with affection, “just like Charlie.”

“Who’s Charlie?”

“My sister.”

Ellie goes quiet at that, allowing you to rub the batter from her face. You work quietly, allowing the dough to rise before starting on the next step, peeling apples. As you do this Ellie brings a chair to sit at next to you at the sink.

“Tell me about Dina and the book.”

"We went for a walk to see the horses and uh, yeah, well she knows I like to draw and stuff so she got me this drawing book. So I can get the proportions right and stuff." 

"Ah, hence the dinner,” you say with a sly wink. “A little payback.”

"Yeah, I wanted to do something nice back and I found some of these old magazines at the library," Ellie tells you. "There was a lot of stupid shit in there and ugly clothes but there was this thing where people write questions to someone?"

"An advice column?"

"Sure. Anyway, it was this girl asking what counted as a date because she wasn't sure if this guy she liked was dating her or just being her friend."

"Oh yeah?" You try to hide the amusement from your face, especially when Ellie looks so serious about the topic. She raises her fingers, counting off what facts she's learned.

"Yeah so the other person says that a romantic date has just the two people on it, and the people dress up nice and they eat together and do an activity. So I'm getting dinner and then we're gonna have dessert and then I dunno, I'll think of an activity." 

Your mouth twitches as you fight back a grin at the innocence of Ellie. Despite everything she must have seen, there is a sweetness and naivety that charms you. 

 "You're really going all out, huh?"

"I want it to be special," Ellie explains, brows furrowed as she looks over the recipe you've written. 

"Trust me Ellie, this is special." 

Ellie doesn't look at you, but you see the blush under her dusting of freckles. The two of you begin adding the dry ingredients to the wet, swirling the mixture until it's ready to be formed. 

"Do you remember your first real date?" 

You take a moment from kneading, trying to recall and then you breathe out a small chuckle, nodding. 

"I do. I was twelve, it was Michael Ramos. He had tons of freckles and his hair was really curly. He asked me to the movies and when he showed up to my house he had these beautiful flowers for me." You smile fondly at the memory. "The movie was terrible and Michael was obnoxious, but I'd never gotten flowers before. I kept them until well after they died in the vase." 

Ellie laughs, imagining such a time. It’s hard for her; she’ll never know what it is to go to the movie theatres, waiting anxiously outside for your date in a new outfit as cars drive by. She’ll never experience the plush seats and dimming lights and the scent of popcorn in the air. She’ll  never see trailers for new movies or sing along to the dancing hot dog telling her to go to the lobby for snacks.

All Ellie will know is a crowded old building with a makeshift screen. She’ll know crowded bench seats and popcorn with no butter. She’ll be happy and content with this, but your heart aches for the traditions she’ll never experience like you did.

"Hey, I got paper," Ellie tells you after a beat. "We could make some of those paper flowers! Then I could give them to Dina!"

“Great idea.”

She scampers off, returning almost immediately with the supplies. The two of you take a seat around the kitchen table and she watches you intently as you fold. The two of you chat about the upcoming dance and target practice. Things are going swimmingly until a creak of wood sounds behind you and you force yourself not to tense.

Ellie glances up from her folded abomination, scowling at Joel as he enters the space.

"Just getting a water," Joel says holding up his hands in mock surrender before retrieving a glass from the cupboard. "Don't lemme ruin girl’s day."

He pours the water into the glass as Ellie wrinkles her nose. 

"Ew, don't call it that," Ellie says as she struggles to fold one of the stems. You smirk, murmuring to Ellie how to double fold the leaf. 

“It’s tricky but the folds need to be really precise,” you explain. “The sharp creases make it possible to fold back.”

You glance up to see Joel watching the two of you, his eyes stuck on the rose you're folding to show Ellie. He must feel your gaze because his eyes drift up to meet yours. He winks at you and you look away, flushing.

“Can you show me that part again?” Ellie asks, frustration lacing her tone. She’s intent on watching your fingers. You fight to keep them from trembling when Joel moves to stand behind your chair. 

You feel the warmth of him there behind you and you're shocked at how turned on you are just having him in the same room. You know you can't look at him too long, can't touch him as he passes. The inability somehow makes it arousing. 

"Those look nice," Joel murmurs in that deep, sexy voice of his. 

"They're fuckin’ hard to fold," Ellie grunts. She's completely consumed with the task at hand, her nose inches from the paper. 

You hold in a giggle when you feel Joel's fingers go to the bottom of your hair, winding a piece around his finger and tugging it gently, playfully. 

"I give up," Ellie sighs and you feel Joel's hand drop from you. He leaves the room and you feel your heartbeat slow a fraction. 

"Don't give up," you say, bringing her a new sheet of paper. "We'll go slow. Step by step." 

When Joel is gone from the room Ellie leans forward, dropping her voice to a whisper meant only for you.

"See what I mean? He's gonna hang around me and Dina and make it weird."

You hold in a laugh. 

"Why don't you just send him over to Tommy's? Tell him you want him out of your hair for the evening. I bet Tommy'll keep him busy doing dishes or changing Douglas's diaper or something."

Ellie laughs at that. "That's a good idea." 

///

You begin the following day by wandering into town to get some groceries, just small staples like fruit and jerky for the days you sleep too late for breakfast or just feel like keeping to yourself.

You clean your house from top to bottom and strangely invested in having your space more colorful, you begin to hang more things on the walls. Paintings given to you during your move here, knick knacks you’ve gathered are put onto the coffee table. Books that rested in boxes are brought out and shoved onto bookshelves.

You stare at your belongings, lingering on the mantle before your feet carry you to Maria’s, your mind fixated on something. Tommy answers the door and encourages you to come in, citing that he’ll take Douglas for a walk while you two visit. The fire roars pleasantly and Maria looks more upbeat than when you saw her last. This encourages you. 

“You look different,” she says as she walks back into the room with two steaming cups of tea. She hands you one before settling on the opposite side of the couch, surveying you.

“Oh?”

“Lighter,” she says, scanning your eyes. “I can’t explain it.”

You give a soft giggle and not want to say much about that you change the subject.

"The party sure looks fun," you say through a sip of your tea.  "I'm making brownies and apple tarts for it."

"Oh yeah?" Maria gives a little half smile at this. "I haven't had apple tarts in years."

"Hopefully mine are decent."

"All your baking is good," she assures you with another sip from her teacup. "Ellie still brags about the pop tarts."  

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Maria smiles. “As for me, I think the turkey is gonna be a nightmare this year.”

"You want help?"

"Nah, apple tarts are more than enough as long as everyone remembers to bring their share. Last year Monica over on Trestle Ave said she was bringing cookies and she showed up empty handed, saying she forgot." Maria rolls her eyes and you giggle. “Except the year before she forgot mashed potatoes too.”

You both giggle over this, talking companionably about decorations (Yes, you and Jennifer have been planning on what to do) and the tree (Joel and you found a great one) and setting up (All three of you are planning to cut it down next week, closer to the event).

And not once does she mention the romance of you and Joel. Not once does she wink and nudge you with an elbow and pry for details and for that you are so grateful. You’re not at a place where you feel really comfortable talking about that yet. You think it’s because you still haven’t told Jennifer.

“Oh, I almost forgot, come with me,” Maria says out of nowhere, gripping your wrist and dragging you to her bedroom.

She pulls you beside the dresser and begins digging around in the top drawer. As she does this you notice the real photograph next to the bed, one you’d never noticed before. It’s of a young Tommy from his army days dressed in fatigues, a cigarette hanging out the corner of his mouth.

“He and Joel look so alike and yet so different,” you mumble, looking at the photo.

“I wish I had more photos,” she frowns glancing at it. “I have a few of my family, but I’m greedy, I want more.”

You smile.

"Hey can I borrow that photo of Sarah for a day?" You ask. "I'll bring it back tomorrow."

"Of course," Maria shrugs. "It's not going anywhere."

She moves to one side of the room, plucking the photo of Sarah from where it sits and hands it to you. You thank her before shoving it into your pocket. Maria digs in the desk under the window before giving a crow of delight.

“There it is!”

She turns back with a delicate gold chain holding a sweet dark blue sapphire. Or it could be a fancy blue rock; you’d never know the difference.

“That’s beautiful Maria,” you said admiring it. “Are you wearing it to the party?”

“No, you are.”

You look at her confused. She’s smiling broadly.

“I wanted to give you this,” Maria says, slipping the necklace into your palm. “I’ve had it for years and I think you’ll look beautiful in it.”

“Maria I can’t-“

“You can and you will. I want to give it to you. You said the dress Jennifer made you is blue. This’ll go perfect with it.”

You take it, your heart bursting. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever owned. You take it and gingerly place it in your pocket. You can’t wait to put it away in the drawer back home. You might just hang somewhere in the house so you can look at it all day.

“This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned.”

Maria smiles, pulling you into a crushing hug before releasing you. The front door creaks open and you hear Tommy call out.

“Hey honey, Dougie and I are back. Brought you a coffee!”

Maria smiles indulgently before rolling her eyes.

“You know since the… you know,” she drops her voice and winces, “Tommy hasn’t left me alone for more than three minutes. Either its him or one of his babysitters.”

“He’s just worried, I guess.”

“I know,” she says with a small sigh. “I just feel like such a burden at times.”

You grow serious, hand on her shoulder. “Maria, no. Please don’t say that. I don’t know how I would have survived in this place without you.”

Maria isn’t close to crying, instead she has a strangely eerie calm about her. A resilience you don’t remember seeing before. She hugs you again, thanking you and citing that she’ll come to your place for coffee next time.

You bound home with a spring in your step, breathing deeply as the crisp air of the day invigorates you. You make a small detour to see Arthur and Penny before heading home with your groceries from earlier, thoughts on what to make for dinner. Perhaps you’ll have Jennifer over for dinner and talk to her then.

///

You’re in your kitchen later that evening thinking of how you’ll admit everything to Jennifer. Perhaps over dinner tonight you could soften her up? Remind her of how wonderful and understanding she is. Then the two of you could take a walk tomorrow and chat about it further, you could tell her then? Then it might be more palatable.

You’re still mulling this over when a knock sounds. You’re confused, walking over and pulling open the door.

Joel stands there, looking as handsome as ever. He smells different, like he’s wearing cologne or something. It’s heady and masculine and it makes you blink rapidly as you open the door wider.

"Joel. Hi. C’mon in."

You step back, allowing him to enter despite your confusion at his presence.  

"Told Ellie I was goin' out to give her privacy for her date," Joel says, stepping into your house. "You mind if I stay here for a bit?"

You close the door behind him. 

"Of course, c'mon in. I was just about to start dinner," you tell him, pleased.

"No need."

From behind his back he produces the bag in his left hand, the scent of chicken and potatoes emitting from it. He gives you a shy smile. 

"Stopped by the dining hall on my way here." 

"Amazing," you say grinning widely. "Follow me and I'll grab you a drink and we can dig into this."  

"Sure, thanks," he says clearing his throat. 

Before you can move he's brought his hand out from behind his back, thrusting a bouquet of wilted red paper roses towards you. Many have been folded over and re-creased. 

"I made some after you left the other day," he explains. "Ellie was right. They're hard to do." 

You feel a smile breaking out over your features. You take the bouquet from him, holding them as dearly as if they were real. 

"At least these ones won't die on ya." 

He quickly turns pink as you smile dreamily at him. 

"But only if you wanna keep em, I mean." Joel looks flustered. "You don't have to. I know they're kinda ugly but I remember you said red was your favorite color so-"

You wrap your arms around his middle before standing on tiptoes to kiss him. He melts into it and you feel him relax in your arms. You can’t believe that big tough Joel Miller spent time hunched over his table, folding and re-folding paper just so he’d have flowers to give to you.

"I love them, Joel."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you nod. "Thank you." 

"You're welcome," he replies, ducking to kiss you again. 

You quickly place them into the vase along with your yellow flowers from weeks ago. You blink back the tears that are sitting there, just waiting to fall. To distract yourself you bring out a few apple tarts from your ice box, placing them in the oven. You set it to warm, wanting them to brown slowly. You don't want to rush this dinner. You want to take your time having Joel in your home.

"Can I help?" 

"Nah, just relax." 

Joel nods, fingers drumming anxiously on the table. 

"I like baking but I don't really enjoy cooking," you admit as you slice up the chicken and plate it, quickly followed by the potatoes and green beans. 

"I don't mind it," Joel says, taking a sip of his sweet tea. "Can't say it's my favorite thing to do."

You nod, passing him his plate and sitting next to him. The two of you begin to eat and you catch Joel glancing at the flowers in the center of the table. 

It's strange sitting across from Joel in your own home, digging into a dinner that smells delicious. It feels strangely domestic to have this man sitting across from you, eyes raising to yours between bites. 

"This is nice," you say without thinking. Embarrassment creeps up your neck the second the comment hits the air. But Joel surprises you by smiling and nodding. 

"Yeah," Joel says warmly. "It is." 

You go back to your dinner, taking slow bites and trying not to stare at Joel. 

Is this a date?

You can't ask that out loud, that would be humiliating. But it sure feels like a date. Flowers, dinner, being together one on one. All that's missing is an activity, according to the article Ellie read. 

If he suggests an activity this is definitely a date, you tell yourself. You can't help but observe that you really want this to be a date. 

"So Ellie and Dina," Joel says between bites. "Who saw that one coming?"

"Me."

 Joel raises his brows at you, amused. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. She was always complaining about Dina," you offer with a smile around your fork. "But I saw the looks she shot her."

"Really?"

You nod. Joel looks stumped. "I thought she hated her."

"That's how I knew she liked her," you say. "How does the saying go? It's a thin line between love and hate? Passion is passion."

Joel blinks, letting your words register. 

"It reminded me of Charlotte and this guy in her algebra class. He teased her all the time, for months. She hated him and I mean hated him," you push your peas around your plate as you reminisce. "Then Valentine's Day rolls around and who do you think got her chocolates and a card confessing he had a huge crush on her?"

Joel's fork is beside his empty plate, his focus rapt on this story.  "Really?"

"Yeah."

"What did she say?"

You giggle. 

"She smashed the chocolates and told him that next time he liked a girl he should try being nice to her."

Joel laughs loudly, the rich sound ringing through the air as you grin. You like that sound, it fills your small home and makes it feel cozy. 

"Damn, she and Ellie would have gotten along."

"You know, they actually would have," you acknowledge with a laugh. "Charlie didn't take shit."

"You called her Charlie?"

"Ever since we were kids."

And then out of nowhere it's there on the tip of your tongue. Desire to tell Joel everything. About Rock River, about the scar you wear. But the moment is so peaceful, this evening so beautiful and you want it to stay that way. You have so few truly happy memories, you want to cherish it. You want to file it away, a movie you can return to and watch over and over if things get grim. 

Joel must notice something in your face that betrays your mixed emotions because he glances over your shoulder, breaking the tension. 

"Damn, those tarts smell good."

Then he stands, taking his empty plate and yours over to the sink. You watch him, belatedly springing into action. 

"You don't have to-"

"S'okay," Joel insists gently, kissing the top of your head as he walks by. “You did enough.”

You feel your heart swelling as you watch Joel carry the plates and cutlery to the sink, pouring in soap. Joel's rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, humming gently to himself as the sink fills up, bubbles dotting the water. 

You launch yourself off the chair and go to your cupboard. You crouch down to pull out the red coffee tin from your low cupboard before straightening. You set the kettle on the stove, already half full from this morning's tea. 

Joel glances over, intrigued at what you're doing. 

"Thought you might want coffee with dessert,” you explain. “Interested?”

"Yeah, I'd love some."

You smile, pleased with yourself before scooping the coffee out of the tin. The smell is divine, rich and calming. You pour it into the paper filter, shoved in a homemade drip system you made out of an old sugar lid. 

Joel is drying the dishes by the time the kettle squeals. He turns, wiping his hands on the towel as he finishes, watching you pour the water over the coffee system. 

"Clever."

"Necessity is the mother of invention," you quote as you pour the remaining water over your teabag in the mug placed next to his. Joel puts the plates and cutlery away as you set the kettle back onto the stove and seal the plastic lid over the coffee canister. 

"You can take it with you if you want," you offer to Joel, holding the tin in his direction. 

Joel shakes his head, coming to take the coffee mug instead. 

"Nah, keep it. That way I'll have it to drink when I'm here." 

Something about the casual way he says it makes your heart flutter. Like he's planning on being here at your place often enough to need it.  The thought pleases you immensely as you watch him come back to the table. 

You bring out the apple tarts, inhaling the rich aroma of cinnamon. It takes you right back to fall nights with your family. Joel is wandering around your living room with his coffee mug, sipping slowly as he takes in the portrait over the hearth. 

"You got it framed," he observes. His voice sounds strangely unimpressed. 

"Yeah, the woodshop guys whipped it up for me," you say over your shoulder as you plate the warm tarts. 

Joel hums, but you think you can hear judgment in it. You have no idea why. You hear his footfalls as he moves around your space. You watch him peer at the bookshelf and table before he turns to you.

"You got playing cards?" 

"Uh, yeah I think so," you say absently motioning towards the cupboard by the door. "Top drawer." 

You watch Joel dig around inside the drawer before finding them next to a few old pencils and a collection of dust. He brings them back, his eyes on you as you place the plate of tarts in the center of the table before you sit back down with your tea. 

"You wanna play Texas hold ‘em?" Joel asks as he takes his seat. 

"How cliché, Texas," you muse, taking one of the tarts off the plate. "How about crazy eights instead?"

"Damn haven't played that one in a while," Joel says shuffling the cards. You watch how smoothly he does it, fingers snapping the cards together, loosely shuffling. He deals you both eight cards and as you lift them to read you realize something. 

Playing cards together is an activity.

This is a date. You're on a real date with Joel Miller. Your cheeks heat as you glance at your cards, smiling widely. 

"So what are we playing for?"

"What d'ya mean?"

"Whenever I played cards with friends or my sister the winner got something as a prize." 

Joel's brow raises, a smirk crossing his plush lips. He tilts back in his chair slightly, pressing his lips together in thought. 

"What were you hopin' for?"

"I dunno," you shrug, distracted as you parse through the cards in your hands. "Winner picks I guess. Anyway, I think I go first."

Forty minutes later, six tarts, two drained mugs and the two of you are both on three. You watch as Joel lays down the remainder of his cards. 

"Two."

"You're cheating," you huff, knowing he's not. Joel breaks out into a soft chuckle, amused at your poor sportsmanship. 

"Don't need to cheat when I'm this good." 

You roll your eyes good-naturedly and the game continues. You crow when you pick up a six of spades on your following turn, matching the remaining six of hearts in your hand. You slap it onto the discard pile in the center of the table. 

"I'm on two!"

Joel just smiles patiently at you, holding his growing collection. You can tell he thought he'd be out by now. You pick up the two cards at the top of the deck, your heart leaping. It's the two of clubs and the two of hearts. 

Joel scowls, looking at his hand before picking up another card from the deck. You slap down your pair, eyes bright with delight. 

"One!" 

You reach for the top of the deck, sliding the top card face down towards you. Joel watches this, his dark eyes tracking your card. Joel and you look across the table from one another, cards in your hands. You're playing for something, you just don't know what. 

He places down a jack of hearts, quickly followed by the five of hearts and the five of clubs. He still has two cards in his wide fingers. Tension is now palpable in the room. It wasn't there for the majority of the game, but you feel it pounding between you now, so strong you can almost taste it. 

Joel's eyes dip to your chest and then your mouth and then finally back up to your eyes. It's clear what Joel is going to demand if he wins this game and it makes you swallow nervously. It wasn't where your head was at previously but now that's all you can think about. Demanding a prize from Joel Miller, anything you want. Now your eyes drop to roam his body, your thighs pressing together. 

"Go on," Joel encourages softly. "Let's see what you've got." 

You glance down at your card, licking your lips nervously. You feel a broad grin stretch across your face as you slap the card down on the pair of fives.

An ace of hearts. 

"I win!" You pump your hands in the air dramatically. "And the crowd goes wild!"

You raise your hands to cup around your mouth as you make fake group cheering noises. Joel watches all of this with a soft little smile on his face. You lower your hands, unsure of what to make of his expression. 

"What?" 

"Nothin'," Joel says with eyes butter soft and a voice to match. "Just like seein’ you happy is all." 

He must realize how sincere and sweet that sounds because he clears his throat and tosses his remaining cards onto the table. 

"Guess I should let you win all the time."

"Yeah right," you laugh, taking the cards and shuffling them together before placing them into the card sleeve. "You just can't accept that I'm finally better than you at something."

Joel looks like he wants to say something but decides better. He just watches you, dark eyes scanning your features as you place the cards to the side. The undercurrent of tension is still there, a gentle thrumming that tightens your nipples under your sweater. 

You rise from your chair slowly, noting that its only Joel's eyes follow sharply as you approach him, the rest of him remains still. You come to stand next to him seated in the chair, your pulse ticking. 

"I won," you murmur.

Joel remains sitting, but he swivels around to face you. You watch him reach around your legs and you feel his wide hands come to land on the back of your thighs. Your stomach jumps when you feel his palms slowly sliding up. 

"Yeah, you did."

His big hands are warm through your jeans, fingers tightening as they curve around your ass.

"So I think it's time for my prize," you whisper, almost embarrassed to say it out loud. 

His cock lengthens in his jeans, straining against the zipper and Joel tugs you to come stand between his parted legs. Your pelvis tilts towards him when he begins to knead your ass, lust clear in his expression, but his eyes never leave your face. 

"Whatever you want it's yours," Joel murmurs eyes like bright coals as he waits for you to decide. 

"Anything?"

Joel tilts his head, amused. "Within reason."

You smile back, eyes disappearing into crescent moons before you nod. His smile fades slowly when you begin to kneel between his legs, your jeans hitting the floor gently as you grip his thighs on the descent. 

His breathing is elevated as he watches you smile up at him from your position. He tenses, flinching away when your fingers go to his belt. 

"Hey," be rasps, hands coming to cover yours. "What're you-"

"I'm collecting my prize," you remind him firmly, pushing away his hands. "Anything I wanted, yeah?"

Joel hesitates, dark eyes bouncing between your mouth and your gaze. He's throbbing under his jeans; you can feel it through the denim. Finally he relents, leaning back in his seat with a creak of the old wood at his back. 

"Yeah." 

You nod satisfied before tugging down the zipper through the teeth of his fly. He watches you smiling, nibbling your lower lip in anticipation as you pull him from his boxers. 

He's hard of course, the weeping tip a rosy blush that has you aching between your own legs. You are momentarily snapped from your trance when you feel Joel's palm curving around your cheek. 

"You don't have to do this," he murmurs down at you, concern marking his features. 

"I know," you answer back honestly. "If I thought I had to I'd never do it."

Joel chuckles at your honesty. Then he watches as you lower your mouth to his waiting cock. You keep your eyes on him as your tongue gives a gentle drag around the tip. Joel swallows, grunting at the sight.

You swallow him shortly after, finding yourself desperate to have him in your mouth again. When all you can taste and breathe and feel is him in your mouth you sigh happily, eyes glazed as you stare up at him.

"You sure you like doin' this?' Joel murmurs, the indecision clear in his eyes. "Still?"

"Mhm," you offer, your mouth stuffed full of him. You don't just like it, you love it. 

And unlike all the times before, Joel is so gentle. He barely moves his hips and his eyes are on you the entire time. When in your eagerness you take too much of him and gag, he presses his bottom into the chair, trying to inch out of your mouth. 

"Hey, hey, you really don't have to do this." 

His hand comes to cup your cheek, thumb slowly rubbing as he pulls you off of him. It's tender and sweet. 

"I want to," you whisper. "Please, Joel."

He’s breathing heavily through his nose, his eyes flitting between yours and then finally, he nods.

Your mouth circles the head, tongue flicking the underside of the mushroom shape until you feel his legs start to twitch. Then you take all of him, tonguing him as you go. 

"Fuck, you look so good like that," he rumbles, his mouth parted. You preen under the compliment, smiling around his cock.   

You and Joel never look away from one another and you revel in the rumbled helpless sounds he makes as he watches. You continue like this, taking your time, enjoying the intimacy of the act in a completely new way. 

"You take what's yours," Joel murmurs, echoing his words of days earlier. 

He comes hard, but instead of it being done with cruelty it feels intimate, like he's letting you see a private part of him as he gasps, his eyes never leaving yours as he floods your mouth. You swallow him down, savoring the taste of him. Joel's cheeks are blotchy pink and he's breathing heavily. You smile up at him, blinking slowly like a satisfied cat. 

You squeal when he launches forward, gripping you around the middle and bringing you into his lap. He grips your jaw, kissing you fiercely as you squirm along his softening length. You feel heady and powerful making a man like Joel come apart like that. His taste still lingers in your mouth as your tongue dabs his. 

Your arms circle his neck, holding onto him as he grips your thighs tightly. You roll your hips against his, unable to stop the whimpering that escapes you at the pleasure it brings. 

"Those sounds," Joel groans against your mouth. "Those fuckin' sounds you make." 

His hands are curving around your ass, holding tightly, urging your core against his pelvis. You rut against him, sitting on his lap, kissing him lazily. You can't get over how natural it feels to hold him to you, to have him in your home like he belongs there. 

"You're so fuckin' sexy," Joel murmurs between kisses, nudging your nose with his, urging you to tilt your head. You move your head back, his mouth nibbling down your jaw as you moan at the sensation. No one has ever called you sexy, you don’t even think the word fits you. But Joel is rutting against you and you believe he believes it.

"Joel," you breathe when his teeth scrape your pulse point gently. Joel groans into your neck at the sound of his name on your lips. 

You feel him twitch to life between your thighs and you can barely hold in your pout when he urges you off his lap. But it's replaced by a grin when he herds you in the direction of your bedroom, swatting your bottom playfully, citing:

"Now it's time for the runner up prize." 

You can only laugh at that until his mouth meets your core and then all you can do is moan. He works quickly and it's only a matter of time before your hips are rolling against his mouth as his wide palms pin you in place. 

Your hands are fisted in the sheets as he pulls pleasured noises from you. He holds your thighs in position over his shoulder as he sucks your clit into his mouth, flicking with his tongue. You let out a sharp cry.

"Joel, I'm so close!" 

You watch his eyes slowly crack open, pussy drunk as he looks up the length of your undulating body. The sight causes you to arch your spine, and when you release you can only hear the sound of Joel's delirious pleasure as he feasts between your legs. Then just as you feel you’re going to pass out from the bliss he tugs on a condom and lines himself up with your core.

"Gonna take me now," he tells you, hips gently rutting against yours. "Gonna take it all, yeah?" 

You nod, already feeling so loose limbed and relaxed. He smiles down at you, his cock circling your entrance before with aching slowness, he sinks into you. The sensation causes both of you to groan in unison, eyes locked. 

"Look at that," Joel whispers, groaning as your cunt starts to milk him, eyes trained on where you join. He feeds his cock into you until your clit rasps against the curls at the base of his cock. "Look at you takin' me so well." 

He moves slowly against you, his body curling over yours; protector, leader. Your mouth is open in a silent scream, body jerking under his as the pleasure floods you. 

“That's my good fuckin' girl," he grunts before his mouth comes crashing against yours again.

Then it's frantic, his hips rutting against yours, his arms holding you to him and you feel him release deep within you through the condom before you're tumbling quickly into a second pleasured release. Sweaty and smiling in the afterglow you snuggle together.

“I liked your prize.”

“Me too.”

///

A short while later you exit the shower in your sleep clothes to find Joel still lying in the bed, under the sheets. He looks like he's contemplating something. You turn off the bedside light. 

"Can you stay the night?" you whisper, climbing under the covers and snuggling up to him. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah." You feel Joel smile at the crown of your head. "I can stay."

The room is dark, the moon low in the sky this evening. Everything feels quiet and calm. Joel’s arms are around your, holding you to his side. Your fingertips trail along his sternum, feeling the warm flesh there. Joel’s finger begins tracing the scar under your ribs. The one you know he’s curious about.

“It was an old woman that did it,” you whisper in the darkness. “She attacked me when we broke into her house. She wasn't evil or anything. Just a scared woman who thought I was there to hurt her."

You don’t miss the way Joel’s arms tighten around you. You lapse into silence, the soft tick of your alarm clock the only sound aside from your breathing.

“You never said what happened to your sister.”

His voice is soft, softer than the way he holds you, softer than the way his breath feels huffing against your neck. You don’t answer him. He feels your hesitation and so he changes tracks.

"What's your favorite memory with her?”

The question floods your eyes and brings a shaky smile to your face. Your favorite memory? How can you pick just one? In all the years of sisterhood there were so many to choose from. And yet as you lay here in the quiet of night one comes to mind immediately.

"Easter, I was in the fourth grade, she was in the third. We always had to wear these stupid matching dresses and frilly socks and bows in our hair for the family pictures and then this big family dinner my mom would host. We looked fucking ridiculous. I wish I had the photos to show you.”

You hear Joel’s soft chuckle.  

“Anyway, the dress that year was really itchy. I mean I don't know what the fabric was, but it was awful. The tag drove me nuts and all I wanted was to be rid of it. I was almost in tears with how much I hated it and I told Charlotte as much.” You shift in the bed, your memory carrying you away. “ So we're starting the hunt for eggs, mom's got the camcorder following us around while dad is giving hints where to look. And all of a sudden I feel these hands come up from behind me and shove hard. I go flying, the eggs go flying out of my basket, I slide into the biggest mud puddle, I'm drenched, the skirt part of the dress is torn, and it’s done for.”

“Oh shit,” Joel chuckles again.

“Yeah, and I turn around and there's Charlotte with a strange little smile on her face. And you have to understand that Charlotte was the good daughter. Never did anything wrong. And I'm crying because it hurt and my knees sting and my eggs are gone. But Charlotte is just smiling down at me until my mom marches over all furious, she saw everything. Charlotte is immediately sent inside after a swat on her butt and I have to inside and change into some old dress from Christmas. A lot more comfortable.”

“Less ruffles?”

“Ruffle-free,” you tell him giggling. “Charlotte and I shared a room and I remember going to change and she was on the bed, all teary from being grounded. I remember asking her why she did it because she was never a violent kid. And she looks at me all serious and goes, ‘Now you don’t have to wear the itchy dress.’”

Joel makes a sound halfway between a chuckle and an ‘awww’.

“So I brought her my chocolate basket and thanked her. And The thing is I remember confessing to my mom that Charlotte and I hated the dresses and my mom telling me "Charlotte doesn't mind." And I told her "Sure she does. She hates it just as much as me." My mom had this little smile on her face. "You know why Charlotte never complains that I get you the same matching dresses every year? Because she thinks the two of you look like twins. You're her hero." I've never forgotten that. Her hero."

The smile dies along with the warmth in your eyes as the last sentence is uttered.

And then the fire is extinguished, the flame snuffed out. 

///

Jennifer and you walk quietly through the snow, darkness encroaching. Your feet feel heavy, your body hollow. You look at her, heart sinking when you see she’s not even attempting to make eye contact with you.

"Please say something, Jenny." 

She looks upset, her beautiful face crumpled. She winces away from you as the two of you come to a stop. Snow whirls around you, the world around you both grey. This is not going how you wanted it to. Jennifer looks devastated.

"You knew I liked him."

Tears run down her face. You wish you could hug her but your arms won't move from where they hang at your sides. 

"You lied to me." 

"I didn't mean to, Jennifer." 

Your eyes go to the ground, watching the flakes circle your ankles.

"He's going to break your heart." 

You look up from the snow in just enough time to see the knife raised above Jennifer's head in her shaking hand. The blade is brought down brutally, stabbed into the center of your chest with a wet thunk. Red blooms under the wound and your eyes fly from the injury to Jennifer. 

But it's not Jennifer anymore, it's Charlotte. Red runs from the deep sockets where her eyes once were, her nails black and broken. When she bares her teeth they're rotted, many missing. She leans forward and her stringy hair clings to her sagging flesh. She bares her teeth again. 

"Where were you?"

"I'm sorry!" You cry out, the injury forgotten. You reach for Charlotte, trying to grip her but she's floating back from you, her hands outstretched. 

"Don't leave me!" 

You scream out, running after your little sister but your feet won't move fast enough. She's being pulled by an unseen force, disappearing into the ether. You scream again, ragged and desperate. 

"Wake up!" 

Someone is shaking your shoulders and you jerk awake mid-sob, your entire body trembling. Your legs are tangled in the sheets and your hair is soaked with anxious sweat. You blink in the darkness, taking a moment to register where you are. All you know is that you're crying and you're terrified. 

You feel strong arms envelop you, pulling up into a strong, firm body that begins rocking you gently.

"Hey, you're safe, you're safe." 

Joel’s voice is thick with sleep and it rumbles against your ear. 

"Shhh, shhh, you're okay," Joel soothes, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You're okay."

You cling to his sleep-warmed body as tears wet the front of his t-shirt. Your fingers are claws, digging into him like you'll never let go. His mouth is at the curve of your ear. 

"What happened?" 

His softness, his strength, his gentle way of sitting there and holding you gives you the ability to find words. 

"N-nightmare," you hiccup. 

You blink away the damp to see Joel peering at you in the darkness. He brushes the hair from your eyes. 

"Wanna tell me about it?"

You shake your head, feeling your face fall again as you think of the pain and the hurt in dream Jennifer's eyes. Of Charlotte’s screams. You sniffle, bowing your head into the crook of his neck and continuing to cry softly. 

Joel holds you, waiting for you to catch your breath. The tears and whimpering cries soon ebb, leaving you sagging against him. Your face is hot, the tears brushed away by the back of your arm. 

"You wanna glass of water or somethin'?"

His fingers skate up and down your spine, his voice a rumble against your ear. If you hold your breath you can hear his heartbeat slow and steady. 

"No. I'm okay."

You gently extricate yourself from him, lowering yourself back onto your pillow. Joel does the same, rolled onto his side, gazing at you. 

Joel is a man that's often hard to read and you think it's the wall he presents to the world, a way of guarding the softness in him. But half asleep and with you there's nothing flinty in the way he looks at you. 

Your palm rests between your bodies on the mattress. His hand covers it, thumb brushing your knuckles. You welcome his touch, eyes locked on his. His even breathing and his touch are comforting to you as the dream fades in its terror.  

"It was my sister," you say quietly. "Charlotte."

Joel nods, his beard rasping against the covers. He doesn't push you for any further information; he just lays there with quiet calm radiating from him.  There's something about the way he holds your silence and your pain that makes you feel safe. You know that you could pretend to go back to sleep, that you could just ignore what happened. But something compels you to tell him. Something no one else in the entire world knows.

"Joel, I want to tell you about Rock River."

WARNINGS/TAGS/DO NOT READ FURTHER UNLESS YOU WANT SHIT TO BE POTENTIALLY SPOILED.

tags/warnings: romance, love, soft!Joel, ANGST, gore, blood, Animal death. Human death, mentions of guns, P in V (protected), dirty talk, trauma, clickers. I think that's it.

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

TAGLIST

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strangers | part 1

summary: following in the footsteps of a girl you once knew, you decide to up and leave home one morning without looking back. when you find yourself to be tired, hungry, and alone in the middle of nowhere, you're thankful when a kind stranger offers you a ride, a warm meal, and a place to sleep for the night. he only tells you about himself in bits and pieces, but he seems trustworthy enough, and what you don't know can't hurt you, right?

!!PLEASE READ WARNINGS, THIS IS A VERY DARK FIC!!

I've tried to label this fic as detailed and as boldly as possible. I will not be held responsible or bullied off the internet if you choose to read this potentially upsetting/triggering work of fiction anyway.

warnings: joel miller x f!reader, 18+, smut, age gap (reader is college-aged, joel is mid-50s), no outbreak au, serial killer!joel, dark!joel, talk of death/murder and blood, mommy & daddy issues, brief talk of domestic violence, lying/gaslighting, manipulation, f-receiving non-con somnophilia (no sex, but groping, fingering, dry humping, kissing, and choking), degrading language toward victims, pet names (baby, darlin', sweetheart), some joel pov, no ellie/sarah but tommy has an unnamed daughter, somewhat inspired by "strangers" by ethel cain, takes place in illinois/ohio/indiana, vaguely set in the 70s/80s, this part is mostly introduction/storytelling/yapping, please respectfully let me know if i missed anything and i will rectify the tags

word count: 9.8k

a/n: i started this as a oneshot way back in november, and then it sat abandoned for a very long time. thank you to my lovely friends @polaroidpascal and @chippedowlmug for encouraging me to finish it, and also bestie kiers who never hesitates to match my freak. also thank you to the many writers who made me feel inspired to write something dark and not give a fuck what people think about it. i hope you enjoy this joel he's a freak and i love him and if you say anything mean about him i'll send him after you <3

divider by @saradika

series masterlist/moodboard

part 2

Ruby Carpenter.

You had spent all day trying to remember her name without really knowing why. Maybe it’s because as the sun sets on what would be the first day of your junior year at the nearby state school, you wonder if she ever made it to one of the fancy ivy leagues she had always aspired to attend. You wonder if she’s even still alive.

Ruby had disappeared a few years ago now, the summer after your senior year of high school. For nearly a year afterwards, her missing posters remained stapled onto every telephone pole and stuck onto every store window around town, until the paper began to disintegrate and the ink began to fade. In that time, you couldn’t even make a quick run to the grocery store without being confronted by dozens of replicas of her yearbook photo printed onto the sides of all the milk cartons. Despite all of the efforts to find her, including several search parties and a decent amount of statewide media coverage, everyone had just stopped looking for her, eventually. Even the police. Even her parents.

It was decided that she had probably just run away, and you can’t entirely blame her, but you can’t imagine why she would, either. You remember her perfect head of blonde ringlet curls that shone a yellow gold in the sun, and her bright blue eyes that turned fiery in her more passionate moments during classroom debates. She had every boy in your grade wrapped around her finger, was the teacher’s pet in every class, and it wasn’t even a question whether she would win prom queen your senior year. She was always sweet to you, always complimented your outfits or your makeup or your art projects with a genuine lilt in her voice and a kind smile, so you could never bring yourself to hate her even though it would’ve been so easy to. You figured she was going to cure cancer or become the president after you had all graduated, which is why you never really stopped wondering whatever happened to her that summer. She was beautiful, with boundless potential and a bright future ahead of her, why would she have just given it all up?

Everyone around town knew Ruby, or at least it seemed that way. But maybe nobody ever really knew her as well as they thought. Maybe she’d had a secret boyfriend all that time who whisked her away that summer, maybe she had decided to try drugs and fell down a rabbit hole that she couldn’t claw her way out of, maybe she had finally figured out that the only thing this town would ever be good for is holding people back. Maybe she did just wake up one day and decide to run without ever looking behind her.

Maybe you should do the same.

With your dad long gone now and your step-father doing a piss poor job of filling in the hole he left, following in Ruby’s footsteps has sounded like a better idea with each passing day. Rob isn’t even really your step-father, anyway, just your mom’s sorry fucking excuse for a boyfriend. The guy’s already been married upwards of three times before, why try for another one? He’s a lazy son of a bitch who can’t hold down a job at a fast food joint for more than a couple of weeks at a time, who sleeps every second of the day that he’s not chugging through a six pack, and who leaves marks on your mother uglier than his fucking face. 

She doesn’t deserve to be treated that way, of course, but it’s not like she’s winning the “mom of the year” award any time soon, either. She’s never even been nominated. She’s forgotten just about every one of your birthdays, been the reason you’ve never had any friends come over, and in her most recent offense, blew all the savings you had put away for your last two years of college. Which is why you’re not spending tonight celebrating being one year closer to at least having an official-looking piece of paper to show for yourself. Instead, you’re using the rattling of your bedroom window unit and the booming bass of your radio to drown out yet another drunken screaming match between your mother and the guy she lets live in your house now, watching the world outside pass you by and knowing that if you don’t do anything about it now, you’ll never make it out of here. You’re thinking about Ruby Carpenter, hoping she found somewhere greener and more promising and was able to make something of herself, far away from here. And you’re thinking that this rusted orange sunset is the last one you’ll ever see from your bedroom window.

It’s decided, then. You’re leaving, first thing tomorrow.

—

You’ve only gotten a few hours of sleep by the time your alarm clock chimes to life at five o’clock on the dot. You’re quick to silence the shrill beeping with a swift swat of your hand, careful not to wake anyone else in the house. The sun has just barely begun to stream in through the blinds of your bedroom window, but it illuminates the room just enough for your eyes to land on the backpack you had stuffed full of a few changes of clothes last night, waiting for you by the door. 

You don’t waste any time stripping off your pajamas and pulling on just about the only clothes left in your room that aren’t in your bag. You’ve got your teeth brushed, face washed, and hair tamed in all of about ten minutes, too anxious to spend even one more unnecessary second in this house. You swing your backpack over your shoulder, pull your bedroom door open at just the right speed so that the hinges don’t squeak too loud, and tiptoe delicately down the stairs, careful to avoid the creaky floorboards that you know like the back of your hand—the one three steps from the top, the one at the landing about halfway down, and the very bottom one.

You land softly when you leap over that tattletale bottom step, successful in the most difficult part of your escape plan so far. Rob is passed out on the living room couch in typical fashion, his mouth full of crooked teeth hanging open as his grating snores permeate the calm morning air. He’s still got a death grip around an empty beer can, even in his sleep, and your mother will likely be the one to toss it into the trash for him, useless fucker that he is. You aren’t going to miss either of them, and you imagine they’ll just skip trying to replicate the first half of the aftermath of Ruby’s disappearance altogether—no posters, no search parties, no police. You’ll just be gone, one less mouth for your mother to feed. Though, you’d been mostly feeding yourself since you were tall enough to slide a couple of bills across the counter at the corner store down the street, anyway. You’re ready to disappear, the same as candle wax when it burns, the same as the end of a rainbow, the same as Ruby Carpenter.

You don’t bother looking back when you shut the door behind you, content to leave it all behind just as the sun begins to rise and set the sky ablaze. By the time it sets again tonight, you hope to be in a different county, in a different state, anywhere that isn’t here. The rest, you’ll just have to figure out when you get there, wherever “there” may be.

—

You had only realized about an hour ago that you’d forgotten your cheap digital watch in the drawer of your bedside table, where it’s laid unused for the past couple of months, because who needs to tell time during the summer? You never had anywhere to be, never had to get to class or turn in a paper by a certain time, so it’s just been collecting dust since you had unclipped it from your wrist on the last day of spring semester. It sure would have come in handy right about now, when you have no fucking clue what time it is. The sun had disappeared behind the hills several mile markers back, so it must be… eight o’clock? Ten o’clock? Fucking midnight? You have no idea. What you do know is that you’re exhausted, hungry, and your feet hurt like hell. You aren’t really sure what you expected, the reality only just now setting in that you don’t even have ten bucks to your name anymore, thanks to your narcissist of a mother. The crumpled up bills you do have in your pocket are hardly enough for a goddamn sandwich, let alone a motel room. The cool night breeze raises goosebumps on your skin, and you swear you can see your fucking breath, even in the middle of August. You wrap your arms around yourself just as tears begin to prick at your waterlines, and you let them fall as you collapse onto the scratchy patch of dead grass on the side of the freeway, not a park bench or a bus stop or even a gas station in sight for God knows how many more miles.

You sit cross-legged, elbows propped up on your knees so that your hands can support your weary head, the skin of your palms becoming slippery with salty tears as your crying just doesn’t seem to stop. The road you’ve found yourself on seems relatively low-trafficked, the heaving sounds of your sobs accompanied by more cricket chirps and rustling wheat than rumbling tires. But a few high beams do streak across your vision every once in a while, coloring the backs of your eyelids a flaming scarlet.

After several minutes, your tears seem to dry up on their own, your body likely too dehydrated now to produce any more. You wipe the moisture from under your eyes with the back of your hand, sniffling as you gnaw at the skin of your bottom lip and debate if you should just turn back now, give up on your stupid little plan (or lack thereof) and just call the whole thing a loss, pretend it never even happened. Your mother and Rob won’t have even noticed you’d left.

Just as you pull yourself back up to your feet, set on at least finding somewhere that isn’t the hard ground to sleep on tonight before you make your way back home tomorrow, the warm headlights of an old pickup truck are shining bright in your eyes. You put your arm up to block them as the truck slowly squeals to a halt in front of where you’re standing, and you squint your eyes at the driver as your vision adjusts.

“You need a ride, sweetheart?” A man asks in a gravelly voice, and you can still hardly make out what he looks like. Based on the southern accent you pick up on, he doesn’t sound like he’s from around here. 

“N-no, thank you. I’m okay,” you respond shakily, taking a nervous step back from the stranger and his rusted pickup.

“You sure? Looked like you were cryin’ over here, like you might be lost or somethin’.”

“‘M not lost, I know where I’m going.”

“Oh yeah? Where’s that?”

Shit. 

You take a guess.

“Um… the motel down the road,” you reply, tilting your head in the direction you had been walking in.

“There ain’t a motel down there, sweetheart. Ain’t nothin’ in either direction for miles, ‘s all just farmland out here. Reckon you’ve already figured that out, though.”

You pause, unsure of what your next move should be. He knows you’re lying, knows you’re alone with no fucking idea where you are or where you’re going. You could run, but even that shitty truck of his could catch up to you in a matter of seconds. You take another step back, swiveling your head around to look up and down the road as you try to figure your best way out of this.

“Just lemme give you a ride somewhere, darlin’. There’s a diner just off the exit, ‘bout twenty miles up ahead. Could take you that far, at least, get you somethin’ to eat,” he offers. A warm meal does sound pretty good right now, and you suppose you aren’t exactly in a position to refuse his help.

You think on it for a second. “What’s it called? The diner.”

The stranger huffs. “Moody’s.”

“What do they have?” you challenge.

He sighs. “It’s a fuckin’ diner off the side of the freeway, darlin’. They got greasy food and black coffee, ‘s about all you need.”

You don’t say anything.

Then, after a beat—“They got some kinda sloppy mess they call the Thunder Burger. ‘S got onion rings and shit on it. Ain’t half bad.”

You have to admit, he’s passing your pop quiz with flying colors. His answers have been too quick, too specific for him to be lying to you. There’s a pretty solid chance this diner does exist, and that he’s been there before. The man hasn’t said anything that’s indicated he wants more to do with you than to offer you a ride and some dinner. He’s probably just somebody’s harmless grandfather, anyway, judging by his motheaten flannel and gray-stricken beard you can see now that you’ve approached his truck a few paces closer.

“Okay,” you concede, your stomach growling loudly as the man leans over the bench seat to pop open the passenger side door for you. You shrug off your backpack and climb into the cabin, clicking your seatbelt into place as you situate yourself on the cracked leather seat. 

“All set?” the stranger asks.

“Mhm,” you hum, finally getting a better look at the man you might just owe the rest of your life to after tonight. For being somebody’s grandfather, he’s… kinda handsome. Really fucking handsome, actually, in a rugged sort of way. He’s got warm amber eyes that sparkle even in the dark of night, a kind smile that completely disarms you in an instant, and a splintering scar across the bridge of his nose that somehow only adds to his good looks. You try to suppress your own grin as you look away from him quickly, opting to focus on fidgeting with one of the fraying edges of your denim shorts instead. Even in your peripheral vision, you don’t miss how his eyes shift from your own to the exposed skin of your thighs. He doesn’t say anything, just clears his throat as he shifts gears and steers his truck back onto the road again. 

He lets the next few minutes pass in comfortable silence before asking, “You got a name, sweetheart?”

You tell him, and he flashes another charming smile at you. “I like that, ‘s pretty… Well, I’m Joel. Sure you were wonderin’. Now you ain’t gettin’ a ride from a stranger no more, are ya?”

“Yeah, I guess I’m not,” you giggle, and you’re surprised at how comfortable you feel with him. “So… you’ve been to Moody’s before?”

“Handful of times, yeah. When I’m passin’ through.”

You nod. “So you come up here, like… for work or somethin’?”

Joel chuckles. “Or somethin’. You never even heard of the damn place, so… reckon you don’t find yourself out here very often, do ya?”

“No… ‘M not even really sure where ‘here’ is, to be honest. I just kinda… started walking.”

“Ah… a runaway, then, are ya?” Joel asks, with an appreciated amount of understanding in his tone rather than judgment. “‘M sure your folks are missin’ ya right about now, must have your boyfriend worried sick.”

You scoff at that. “Fuck no. They probably don’t even know I’m gone, won’t even bother trying to come look for me. And I don’t have a boyfriend, so…”

“Damn shame. ‘M sorry about that, sweetheart,” Joel comforts, placing a large calloused hand on your thigh. It makes your breath hitch, but his touch isn’t entirely unwelcome. You let him squeeze once at the plush of your leg before he replaces his hand on the wheel, and your cunt spasms out a little fluttering pulse against the seam of your shorts, despite yourself.

The rest of the drive to Moody’s is relatively quiet, save for the gentle crooning of an old country singer emanating from the cassette player on the dash. The soft singing and steady strumming of a banjo combined with the muffled chugging of the truck’s engine is enough to lull you to sleep, especially after the day you’ve had. You know that just about every mental alarm bell you have should be screaming at you to jump out of the car, to run, that sleeping alone in the dirt would’ve been a better decision than getting into this strange man’s—Joel’s—truck, but you’re too tired to hear them. He smells good, like woodsmoke and pine and cinnamon, and if he wanted to do something awful to you, he probably would’ve done it by now. So you trust him, for now at least, and let your lashes fan out against your cheeks as your head falls back against the cushioned headrest, coaxed into sleep by the lullaby of tires against pavement and fingertips against guitar strings.

—

You only rouse when you feel the truck come to a stop about half an hour or so later, slowly blinking your eyes open against the bright neon sign that reads “MOODY’S” in bold capital letters. Your jaw stretches wide as a yawn overtakes the muscles, and you hear Joel’s southern drawl replace the one from the cassette as he shuts the engine off.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead. Not too tired to eat somethin’ now, are ya?”

Another unpleasant-sounding rumble from your empty stomach answers for you, loud enough for both of you to hear this time. The air puffing out of the diner’s kitchen smells strongly of fatty bacon and rich coffee, just like Joel had promised you the place would offer. Although the digital clock on the dash read just after 10:30 before you fell asleep, you’ve never craved breakfast quite like you do right now. You absentmindedly lick your lips as you imagine the sweet and savory—and more importantly free—meal that could be waiting for you beyond that blinding beacon of a sign.

“Well, alright then. Let’s get some food in ya before you keel over, hm?” Joel says as he exits the truck, landing on his feet in the dirt parking lot with a soft groan. He waits by the hood for you to meet up with him, and you walk up the couple of steps to the entrance together. He holds the door open for you, and you offer him a shy ‘thank you’, to which he responds with a soft spoken ‘welcome, sweetheart’. You stand shyly behind his broad form as he asks the hostess for a table for two, and she leads you to a green leather booth tucked into the corner of the diner. She hands each of you a sticky laminated menu, the pages a charming mess of clashing colors and faded pictures and retro-looking fonts, then departs with a promise that your waitress will bring the two of you some water as you take your time deciding on what you might like. 

You light up upon reading that Moody’s serves breakfast all day, and that they can make you exactly what you were hoping for—a stack of chocolate chip pancakes with sides of bacon and hashbrowns. You can’t help but smile to yourself as you wiggle in your seat, excitedly anticipating the waitress to come back around so you can order.

“Whatcha so excited about over there?” Joel asks, eyeing you from across the table as he glances up from his own menu.

“Nothin’, I was just hoping I could get some pancakes, and they have ‘em on the menu,” you explain giddily. “I’ll probably get some coffee, too, really complete the whole ‘breakfast for dinner’ thing.”

Joel huffs through his nose. “Decaf, I hope. ‘S the middle of the goddamn night, sweetheart. Gonna be bouncin’ off the walls in the room later, hardly get any sleep.”

He’s right, you suppose. But wait—“What room?”

Joel shrugs casually. “There’s a decent motel another exit or two down, figured they could probably get us a couple o’ beds for the night. But, ‘m sorry, shouldn’t have assumed—”

“No! No, it’s okay.”

Is it? You only met the man less than an hour ago, and you already agreed to let him give you a ride before you even knew his name. You suppose you hadn’t really thought about what would happen after he bought you dinner, but not thinking ahead seems to have been a theme today, hasn’t it? You remind yourself that he’s only been kind and respectful to you so far, save for that placement of his hand on your upper thigh soon after he picked you up. But that could’ve just been a friendly, paternal gesture, right? And he said a couple of beds, when he mentioned the motel, which seemed to imply that he plans on the two of you sleeping in separate beds, maybe even separate rooms. You’ve found yourself having to make yet another somewhat reckless decision tonight, but one that would be in your best interest to say ‘yes’ to, at this point. What other option would you have if you declined his offer?

“Don’t really have anywhere else to go, so… yeah, okay. Motel sounds good. And decaf it is, I guess.”

Joel’s apologetic expression quickly morphs into a satisfied smirk. “Good girl,” he praises. You like how the words sound coated in his thick drawl, even though you probably shouldn’t. You shift where you sit as that familiar fluttering sensation returns to the seat of your panties, just for a moment. You’re grateful that the waitress arrives at the booth not a second later, cheerily introducing herself as she sets down a glass of water for each of you. When she asks if you’re ready to order, Joel gestures to you as if to say ‘ladies first’, and you politely prattle off your request. You make sure to emphasize that you’d like your coffee decaf, and ask if she could please bring some more of the little cups of vanilla creamer to the table. “Not a problem, honey,” she replies, and Joel winks at you as she asks what she can get for him. He orders the Thunder Burger he had told you about earlier, and a black coffee, which he doesn’t request to be decaf. The waitress leaves the two of you alone again with an ‘I’ll have that right out for ya,’ and you let your eyes follow the calming baby blue color of her dress as she glides her way back to the kitchen. When she disappears around the corner of the bar, you take the opportunity to study Moody’s other patrons. There isn’t another young person in sight, mostly just men around Joel’s age with similarly heavy bags under their eyes, likely truck drivers indulging in their first hot meal of the day within the diner’s comforting wood-paneled walls. You wonder if that’s how Joel knows about this place, because he “passes through” this area on long hauls across the midwest. You open your mouth to ask him if your assumption is correct, but he cuts you off before you can say anything.

“I gotta admit, sweetheart, I’m curious… The hell was a pretty thing like you doin’ out in the middle of goddamn nowhere tonight? I mean, I know you’re a runaway ‘n all, but… shouldn’t you be one o’ those college party girls or somethin’? ‘M sure you got plenty of friends wonderin’ where you are.”

You sigh, shaking your head as you distractedly pick at a splintered piece of wood at the edge of the table.

“I was in college. Was supposed to be going back again this year, but… my mom spent all the fucking savings I had left for the rest of it on fixing up her dumb boyfriend’s car. It’s just been sitting in the fucking lawn all summer, sure as hell not being used for something useful like going to the job he doesn’t have. That bastard…” You say the last part under your breath through gritted teeth.

“Shit… Tha’s a tough deal, baby, ‘m real sorry to hear that,” Joel comforts. “But y’know, everybody’s got mommy ‘n daddy issues, don’t mean you just up and start walkin’ all by your lonesome, not even have any idea where you’re goin’.”

“Well, it wasn’t just that. There was… nevermind, it’s stupid.” You slump into the cushioned booth, silently cursing yourself for even bringing it up.

“What is it?” Joel pushes, sitting up straighter to show you that he wants to listen, wants to get to know you. And God dammit, he might be the first person you’ve met in a long time who actually seems to care about what you have to say, as strange as it is. You flick your eyes up to his face, and he’s wearing a sincere gaze that convinces you to continue.

“There was this girl I went to high school with. She disappeared a couple of years ago, nobody ever found out what happened to her. People figured she probably just ran away, and I thought… I dunno. That maybe she had the right idea, leaving that place behind. I always held onto this hope that maybe she was still out there somewhere actually doing something with her life, that maybe she just changed her name or something and disappeared on purpose.” You pause. “I guess I just thought I might be able to do the same, if I left.”

“I see…” Joel muses sympathetically. “Maybe I oughta give you a lil’ more credit, then. Must’a been tough losin’ a friend like that, not knowin’ where she ended up.”

“I mean, Ruby wasn’t really my friend. She just—”

“Hang on. Ruby, you said?” Joel interrupts, his eyes suddenly looking a little wild.

“...Yeah. Her name was Ruby. Ruby Carpenter.”

—

Fuck.

Joel has to adjust himself under the table, his dick now hardening uncomfortably in his jeans at just the mention of her name. He remembers Ruby, remembers chuckling to himself when he realized the irony of her name matching the color of her blood, remembers watching the news coverage of her disappearance in this very same diner, those handful of years ago. She was a sweet thing, he remembers this, too. It was a shame she had ended up being such a fighter, that she had to get put down the way she did. But she shouldn’t have thrown that fucking rock at his face, called him a sick fuck and a freak as she made her pitiful little escape attempt. Joel is lucky that all he came away from it with is that ugly little scar that mars the bridge of his nose. He can’t say the same for her.

“Why? You heard her name before?” You ask him, an unfortunate little twinkle of hope in your eyes.

“Maybe.” Yes. “Sounds a lil’ familiar, might remember hearin’ about it on the news or somethin’.”

That goddamn news coverage sure as hell taught him a lesson. Joel had spent months trying to keep the cops off his fucking tail after he had dumped her body on some forgettable patch of land behind an old decaying barn. He had even gotten pulled in for a fucking interview at the station in what he now presumes to be your hometown, where they had questioned him for an hour or so about her disappearance. He still isn’t sure how he talked his way out of that one. Ruby might not have been good for much else, other than pissing him the hell off with all of her pathetic crying and begging to just please, please let me go back home, but she did help him perfect his craft, he can give her that much. It’s because of her that Joel makes certain now that any girl he picks up doesn’t have anybody who will miss her or plaster her face on every local channel or send out goddamn search parties to find her. Girls like you.

You’re just so perfect, it would be so fucking easy for him to make you disappear for good, it’s almost comical. It had hardly taken any convincing at all to get you to climb into his truck, had taken even less to get you to agree to go to some seedy ass motel with him that might not even exist, for all you know. It does, but you didn’t even try to test him about it this time, just put all of your trust in him like a stray puppy would to the first person to pick it up off the street. That is just about what you are, he supposes. So far, you seem like the perfect candidate to become his little captive pet. If you keep it up, maybe you won’t meet the same fate as the rest of them. He’d told himself he’d be done after the last one, anyway, his body too old and achy and slow now to chase after the ones who put up a little more fight, like she had. She’d nearly escaped, made it a decent way through the woods and almost reached the main road before tripping on an exposed root and snapping her ankle. He remembers how weak and scared she’d looked before he’d used his knife to put her out of her misery, and it makes his dick twitch. Joel doesn’t plan on snuffing you out, not right now at least, since you haven’t given him a reason to. But his fingers still twitch where they rest on the table, moving out of instinct as he can’t help but imagine what they’d look like wrapped so tightly around your little throat. Would you cry? Would you beg? Would you pray? Would he have to glide his blade across your vocal chords just to get you to stop screaming so fucking loud? He wonders.

“Oh… Was that one of the times you were just ‘passin’ through’ for whatever reason you haven’t told me yet?”

Joel hadn’t realized that his eyes had been unfocused for so long, or that he’d been holding his breath, or that his hand had been squeezing his glass of water so hard he’s glad it hadn’t shattered. The airy sound of your voice brings him back to reality, and he huffs a light chuckle as he fixes his face into a more pleasant expression. 

“Yeah, ‘spose it was.” 

You roll your eyes at him playfully. “Come on, Joel. I just told you, like, my whole sob story. I feel like I deserve to know at least one thing about you now.”

You have a point.

He gives in. “Fine. I got a brother, used to come through this area when I’d pay him a visit. That good enough for ya?”

You cross your arms. “No. What’s his name?”

“Tommy.”

“What’s he look like?”

“Like me. Little younger. Little uglier.”

You laugh at that.

It makes Joel smile.

Maybe you could be the one he’s been looking for all this time. Too bad he had to waste so many others before he finally got to you.

—

The waitress comes back to your table soon after that, with your steaming plates of delicious-smelling food and hot mugs of coffee balanced expertly on a large plastic tray. She sets them down in front of the pair of you with a cheery smile, and you thank her happily when she doesn’t forget the extra sickeningly sweet cups of creamer you had requested. Joel doesn’t take his eyes off you once during the interaction, not even to feast his eyes upon the monstrous burger now sitting before him, not even as he thanks the waitress for delivering it to him. His lingering gaze makes you feel a little warm, but it could just be from the heat radiating off of your plates.

“What? You’re not getting a bite of mine, if that’s why you’re looking at me,” you tease, already getting to work putting the sugary creamer to good use.

Joel just shakes his head, his caramel colored eyes still never leaving you as your coffee begins to resemble their hue. “No, ‘s not why.”

“Whatever,” you reply through a giggle, making a poor attempt to hide your girlish grin behind the lip of your white ceramic mug. 

The two of you eat your meals in relative silence, mostly enjoying each other’s company and basking in the relaxing ambience created by silverware tapping against porcelain, hushed conversations, and the local country station playing through the old radio sitting on the counter. The reception is a little spotty way out here in wherever the hell you are, so you can’t quite tell what song it is. But Joel seems to know, judging by the rhythmic bouncing of his knee under the table that creates little circular ripples in your coffee. Maybe you’ll ask him what it is later, how he knows it, if you can listen to it again in the truck together. He doesn’t seem to be as much of an open book as you’ve already given yourself away to be, and you respect that about him. It doesn’t make you any less curious, but you resign yourself to getting to know him better in the small doses he’s willing to offer you. 

You decide to begin a mental list of all the things you want to ask him later, knowing that by the time you make it to the motel tonight, you’ll be far too exhausted to do anything more than just collapse onto the springy mattress and sleep until you get kicked out of the room the next morning. You almost wish you hadn’t listened to Joel’s request for you to take your coffee decaffeinated tonight, and you still aren’t quite sure why you did. It just feels so strangely easy to give into him, to trust him, to let him make decisions for you. You suppose that’s what you’ve been needing all this time, someone to guide you and understand you and at least pretend like they care about you. Joel has shown you more concern and care and protection in the last hour or so than either of your parents have pretty much your whole life. And he’s good at this, making you feel wanted, making you feel like somebody, even in subtle ways, just by looking at you.

“A’right, why don’t you finish up, darlin’, ‘n we’ll hit the road again. Practically usin’ your pancakes as a pillow over there.”

“Oh, sorry,” you apologize sleepily, waking yourself up enough to make quick work finishing off your plate and your last few sips of coffee. 

“Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout, sweetheart. Lord knows you need some rest, won’t be too much longer now,” Joel assures, fishing a few tens out of his faded leather wallet and placing them on the table. He slides to the edge of the booth and stands himself up with only a few pained noises as he straightens out his back, then offers his hand for you to take. You use it as leverage to pull yourself upright, and your hands linger in each other’s hold for a few seconds longer than they need to. The hostess thanks the two of you for stopping in when you pass her by, and Joel opens the door for you again as you leave Moody’s. He opens the truck door for you, too, and promises you that the motel is just another couple of minutes down the freeway. You make an effort to stay awake in your seat this time as Joel begins the drive, opting to gaze out the window and focus on trying to make out the sparkling constellations above the treeline. You smile privately at the moon when you find that she’s following closely behind you just as she always does, bright and full. 

She doesn’t leave your side until you reach the unassuming little roadside motel, which to your gratitude, proudly displays their vacancy on the flickering sign in the parking lot. It doesn’t look like a five star joint by any means, but you know it will serve its purpose just fine. Joel instructs you to stay in the truck while he goes about getting a room for the two of you, and you don’t object. He’d insisted that you didn’t need to be on your feet any longer than you already had been today, and you were too tired to argue with him even if you wanted to. When he returns, he taps lightly on the passenger side window so as not to startle you from the half-asleep, half-awake state you’ve found yourself in, and swings your backpack over his shoulder as he helps you out of the truck. He leads you to the room at the end of the row, and the door takes some finessing of the key and a shove of his shoulder to open. Joel flicks on the light, and you let out a disappointed-sounding ‘oh…’ when it reveals your accommodations.

There aren’t two beds like you had assumed Joel was going to request. There’s only one.

Joel catches your reaction. “‘S this gonna be alright? I know it ain’t the Ritz Carlton, but—”

“No, the room’s fine, it’s not that. I just thought… I just assumed that… I didn’t know it was gonna be, like… just the one bed.” You try to explain your discomfort as gently as possible, without seeming ungrateful for everything Joel has done for you tonight.

He looks at you sympathetically. “I know, I ain’t tryin’ anythin’, I swear. Guy told me it was the last room they had, jus’ figured it was better than nothin’.” 

You offer him a soft smile, but your eyes must still look a little wide as you begin to nervously pick at your fingernails. Joel continues, “I can take the chair if you want, darlin’. Get the bed all to yourself, how’s that sound?”

You visibly relax at that, your shoulders deflating as your smile becomes a little more genuine. “Okay, that’s good. Thank you.”

“‘Course, sweetheart. How’s about you take a nice hot shower, rinse off some o’ that dirt you picked up from walkin’ all day… Don’t suppose you got some suitable clothes in here for sleepin’ in?” Joel asks, handing your backpack off to you.

You shake your head. “Just some jeans and t-shirts, and another pair of shoes. And… y’know, some underwear, and stuff.”

Joel pinches the bridge of his nose, then rubs his fingers across his forehead exasperatedly. “I swear… it’s like you didn’t think there’d be a tomorrow or somethin’, girl. Christ.” Joel looks out the window to his truck parked just outside. “Tell you what, think I got somethin’ in the truck you can wear. Why don’t you see if they got anythin’ on the TV tha’s worth a damn, ‘n I’ll be back, alright?”

You nod, “Okay,” then set your backpack down on the drab carpet in favor of picking up the remote perched in front of the small square television. You sit yourself down on the edge of the bed as Joel leaves the room, and begin to flick through the few channels that aren’t just a screen full of snowy static.

Local news. Commercial. Game show. Commercial. Documentary. Commercial. 

Eventually, you land on what seems to be one of those old black-and-white western shows that you can never remember the name of. You only know that the reruns used to play on Sundays around lunchtime, because Rob would always be half paying attention to it with a beer in his hand when you and your mom would get home from church. For how adamant she was that you attend every weekend, she sure never called him a harlot and a sinner for not wanting to go with her. You’re not sure she had ever even tried to get him to go, but he probably didn’t own anything decent enough to wear, anyway. Whatever, fuck them. The show seems like the kind of thing Joel would like, so you let it keep playing. 

He comes back a moment later with a small stack of folded up clothes, tossing them over to where you sit on the bed. You unfold what he’s given you and examine them—a pair of simple pink cotton shorts, and a white tank top with a ditsy floral pattern scattered across the fabric. The clothing is a little more revealing than you’d like, but you figure you’d be a hell of a lot more comfortable wearing them to sleep than the denim shorts you have on now.

“These are… great. Thank you, Joel. But…” you snicker. “Should I be concerned that you have a very convenient supply of girls’ clothes in your truck?” Joel scoffs. “‘S for when I got Tommy’s kid with me, smartass. He’s got a daughter, few years younger ‘n you.”

“Okay, well, I dunno how I was supposed to know that, but… as long as you don’t have a girlfriend who’s gonna come after me for wearing her clothes.”

Joel only chuckles in response, his attention suddenly pulled to the TV.

“Gunsmoke, huh? ‘S a good choice, definitely what I’d classify as ‘worth a damn’.”

You smile to yourself, and his approval makes that warm fluttery feeling return to your belly. “I didn’t even know what it was called, just seemed like something you’d like.”

He turns back to you. “That obvious, huh? ‘S just ‘cause I’m old and southern, ain’t it?”

“Maybe a little,” you admit, making a pinching gesture with your hand.

Joel nods as he makes his way over to the armchair on the corner of the room, collapsing onto it with a groan. “Well, why don’t you go ‘n get yourself all changed and cleaned up, ‘n if you’re quick enough maybe we can finish the episode together and then get some shuteye, hm?”

You swiftly unzip your backpack to retrieve one of your clean pairs of underwear, then bound over to the small bathroom with them and your new change of clothes in hand. It’s not the most spotless one you’ve ever had to use, but you’ve honestly seen much worse. You rinse off quickly in the steaming shower, using the scratchy motel-provided washcloth to scrub the dirt from your legs, stuck to you with the sweat you worked up from God knows how many miles of walking today. 

Today. You can hardly believe it hasn’t even been a full 24 hours since you left home yet. It seems like you’ve already known Joel for days, maybe even years, as silly as it sounds. You wonder if he might just take you in after this, or if he’ll have had enough of providing for you after just one night. He seems like a man of limited means, and he’s already given you so much. If you’re brave enough, maybe you’ll ask him tomorrow, when you get to the ‘so… what now?’ part of your time together.

For now, you step out of the shower and dry yourself off with an impossibly scratchier towel, then pull on your panties and the tank top and shorts Joel provided you with.

Jesus, how much younger is Tommy’s daughter?

The shorts just barely cover your ass, and there’s a sizable gap between their waistband and the bottom hem of your top. The thin, white material of the shirt only serves to accentuate the way your nipples poke through the fabric, but you suppose there isn’t anything you can do about that.

You quietly crack open the bathroom door, and are somewhat relieved to find that Joel’s already fallen asleep in the chair. You do wish you could’ve finished the episode of Gunsmoke with him, but the end credits seem to be rolling already anyway, and you’d rather avoid being seen in your very ill-fitting pajamas. Although, you do wonder if he’d say anything, or if he’d just let his hungry gaze linger in silence again, holding himself back from touching you beyond a comforting pat on the thigh.

You pick the remote up off the bed and use it to make the TV screen sizzle to black, then tip toe over to the lightswitch by the door and turn it off, the room now completely shrouded in darkness. Joel snores softly from the chair as you blindly feel your way back over to the bed, pulling the covers back and nestling yourself underneath them. The bed is surprisingly comfortable, considering, and it doesn’t take long for your exhaustion to catch up with you. Your thoughts become slower and slower along with your breathing, and you’re asleep not even five minutes after your head hits the pillow.

—

The last room they had, yeah, right. You’re just the most pathetic little thing, aren’t you? You’ll believe just about anything that comes out of his mouth if he turns up the ‘southern charm’ dial a few ticks, throws in a feigned apologetic-looking expression for good measure. It’s sad, really. For you, anyway.

Joel fakes his snoring for another thirty minutes or so, until he’s certain you’re sound asleep. He had heard your breath even out almost immediately after you had tucked yourself in, but he had chosen to lay in wait for a little while longer, just to make sure you wouldn’t put up too much of a fight when he made his move. You don’t seem like the type, considering how you’d hardly argued with him at all tonight, like when he had convinced you to forgo the caffeine with your dinner. There’s a reason he wanted you sleepy and subdued tonight, but you didn’t know that. Joel likes how well you listen to him, how easily you do as he asks.

He also likes how warm you are, how small your body is compared to his own, the difference in size especially prominent now that he’s laying snugly against you, his front pressing firmly into the back of you. You don’t wake from his lumbering movement, only coming to slightly when you feel his arm slide underneath your body, his warm hand snaking its way beneath your tiny shirt to squeeze at your plush tits. 

You mumble out a little “Hm?”, which he’s quick to quiet with, “Sorry, darlin’. Chair was too hard on my damn back. Just go back to sleep, ‘kay?” That chair felt like laying on a goddamn cloud compared to some of the other surfaces he’s found himself having to sleep on before, but again, you don’t know that, and what you don’t know won’t hurt you. You probably won’t even remember this in the morning, how his hard cock is slotted so perfectly against your ass, especially without the confines of his thick jeans holding him back. They’re discarded onto the floor now in front of the armchair, along with his flannel shirt and jacket. Joel holds you tightly against his bare, hairy chest as he circles a roughened pad of his finger around one of your nipples, smirking to himself at how quickly the bud hardens from his touch. He knew you wanted this, and the wet spot that the fingers of his other hand are teasing in the gusset of your panties is proof of it. How long have you been leaking for him like this? Had you been soaking the seat of his truck earlier today? Filthy thing.

You still don’t rouse when he pulls your panties aside and slips a finger inside your slick cunt, or when his grip on your tit loosens in favor of sliding up higher under your tank top, his hand coming to a rest around the base of your throat as he pumps his finger in and out of your tight heat. It would be so fucking easy…

But he can’t, he won’t, because you’re not like the others. You want to get to know him, you let him take care of you, you seem to like his company, and you don’t leap out of bed and call him a fucking perv and a dirty old man for what he’s doing to you. That’s what the others would have done. It’s what they have done. And they faced the consequences.

But you’re different. You’re not like them. You’re like him. A lost soul, that’s what you are. Nowhere to call home, no one who misses you or loves you or gives a damn what happens to you. Joel’s mouth had tasted bitter when he had told you about Tommy, or rather, lied about him. Joel hasn’t seen the fucker in years, certainly doesn’t pay him any visits or watch his brat, not since Tommy had learned the truth. You better not show your goddamn face around here ever again, you understand me? Tommy had spat at him. You’re fuckin’ sick. Only reason I don’t turn your ass in myself is ‘cause you’re my goddamn brother. But if I ever fuckin’ see you again, I won’t hesitate. Better make yourself pretty fuckin’ scarce ‘fore I change my mind. That might’ve been about the only time Joel had ever taken orders from his little brother. 

That bitter flavor is cut by the sweet tang of you that he tastes on his finger now, so young and eager and fresh. The hand around your throat squeezes a little tighter, and Joel’s hips begin to move against your ass as he allows himself to suck wet kisses onto the skin under the hinge of your jaw. Softly, gently, so as not to wake you. He could come just like this, using your pliant body in your sleep, rutting himself against your still form with the taste of your pussy on his tongue and his fingers pressed against your pulse points.

He’s close when you stir again, making broken hiccuping sounds as you choke on your breath.

“Shh, shh,” Joel soothes. “You’re alright, sweetheart. ‘S just me. Just—fuck—hold still, go back to sleep, baby.” You let out a quiet whimper, squirming against him just a little bit, but return to your unmoving and silent state a second later. Joel finishes himself off quickly with another couple of shallow thrusts against you, his large hand still gripped around the column of your neck, trying to stifle his groans as he spills into his briefs. He removes his suffocating hand and keeps you pressed tightly against him for a while after that, tanned arms wrapped around your waist and breathing in your scent as he waits for you to settle back down. 

When he’s sure he won’t disturb you again, Joel releases you from his hold and pads quietly back over to the armchair, redressing himself and resuming the position you had left him in. In the morning, if you do remember any of it, you’ll just chalk it up to a very strange dream, one fueled by the desire he knows you’ve felt towards him since he picked you up. You’ll be left with a strange assuredness that he feels the same way about you, without really knowing why. 

But Joel will always know.

—

The digital clock on the nightstand only reads around 8:00 when you’re awoken by a beam of sunlight shining brightly against the backs of your eyelids, streaming in from the window’s lopsided blinds. You had gone to sleep with your back to Joel, but you find yourself facing him now. He looks kind of peaceful when he’s asleep, that permanent furrow etched between his brows finally smoothed out as he dozes. A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips, but they fall quickly when you adjust your legs and feel the cool dampness against your core, the sensation bringing back the memory of the dream you’d had last night. 

It had felt so real, but it couldn’t have been, could it? There’s no evidence that Joel had really laid next to you last night, that he’d really touched you like that, that you’d wanted him to keep going. It must just be some kind of strange side effect of the affection you feel toward the man who had rescued you, more or less. You’ll likely just part ways after today, anyway, so it’s probably best to just try and forget about the whole thing, put on a fresh pair of underwear and pretend it never happened. 

Joel is awake by the time you’re done freshening up in the bathroom, and he greets you with a raspy ‘Mornin’, sweetheart’ as you retrieve your backpack from next to the bed and shove your ruined underwear into the bottom of it. “You get some good sleep last night?” He asks, rubbing a hand over his eye.

“Mhm, the bed was nice, more comfortable than the one I had at home, honestly.” You finish zipping your backpack closed and sit back down on the bed, pulling on some socks and the lace up sneakers you had been wearing yesterday. “I hope the chair was okay, like, for your back and everything.”

“What makes you say that, baby?”

You pause in the middle of tying one of your shoelaces, turning to look at him with a confused pout. “Didn’t you…? I thought you had told me something about how the chair would be hard on your back. Like, last night.”

Joel frowns, shaking his head. “Don’t think so, darlin’. Chair was just fine.”

“Oh… Well, that’s good.”

Maybe it had just been a dream, then.

Joel hands you a few bills from his wallet, and tasks you with getting the two of you some breakfast from the gas station across the street while he cleans himself up. He tells you that he doesn’t eat much in the mornings, but that you can get yourself whatever you want, as long as you bring him back a carton of cigarettes and a black coffee. You obey eagerly, retrieving what he asked for and getting a pack of miniature powdered donuts and an equally as sugary coffee for yourself.

He’s just stepped out of the bathroom when you return to the room, and your face feels hot when you see him with his dark hair slicked back and wet from the shower. The few strands that fall onto his forehead as he laces up his boots almost make him look a little boyish, despite his whitened temples. 

“Such a good girl, thank you,” Joel praises when you hand him his items. 

You respond with a shy ‘You’re welcome’, but he doesn’t miss how you seem to light up at his words. You plop yourself down onto the worn-in chair that Joel had used as a bed last night, happily munching on your gas station donuts and sipping on your coffee. It all makes you feel warm from the inside out.

But you figure you should find out what the rest of today might look like before you let yourself enjoy the beginnings of it too much.

“So, um… We’re just gonna check out this morning and then… what?” 

“Whaddya mean, baby?”

“I mean… are you just gonna, like… take me to the nearest bus station or something?”

Joel’s confusion is written all over his face, embedded deep into those lines between his brows. You could swear he almost looks a little hurt. “Why would I do that? ‘S that what you want?” He asks softly.

You try to backpedal a little, afraid you might’ve offended him or seemed ungrateful in your question. “I just thought it might be what you want. That you probably have somewhere else you need to be, like Tommy’s or—”

“No, I don’t,” Joel says definitively.

You pause. “Okay, so—”

“You ever been to California?”

His question stumps you for a moment, seeming so random in its nature. “No.”

“You want to?”

You shrug. “I mean… sure. Maybe someday—”

“Why don’t you come with me then, baby?”

You let out an awkward giggle. “...Come with you where?”

“To California. Come with me.” Joel’s tone is genuine but firm.

“Like, today? Are you sure?”

“I mean, we ain’t gettin’ there today, darlin’. But yeah, I’m sure. We both got nowhere else to be, do we? So let’s just go, we’ll see it together.”

You beam up at him, realizing that he’s being serious. Joel does want you, wants you to be his companion, maybe even something more that you’ll discover on familiar-looking back roads and in cities you’ve only ever seen pictures of. 

“Okay,” you agree excitedly. 

Joel nods. “Okay, then. Lemme go check us out ‘n we’ll get back on the road again. Burnin’ daylight already,” he jokes. He carries your backpack out to the truck for you, setting it down between your feet after he opens the door and helps you inside with a stable hand. It only takes a few minutes for Joel to hand in the room key and pay for the night, and then he’s back at your side. You begin to feel like that’s where you always want him to stay. 

“So, where to first, baby? California ain’t goin’ anywhere, can take as long to get there as we wanna. We’ll go wherever you like, take your pick.” Joel leans across your body to dig a folded up map out of the glove compartment, handing it to you. 

You examine it, your eyes darting across the dozens of dots with the names of cities next to them, some you’ve never even heard of. You point to one that you have heard of, but have never been to, because you’ve never even left the state you grew up in before.

“Um… how about Detroit? I’ve heard it’s nice, I think.”

Joel belly laughs at that. “It ain’t, but sure. You wanna go to Detroit, that’s where we’ll go. Buckle up, baby,” he instructs, patting your thigh. You oblige, and it feels good to finally know where you’re going, and that you’re going there with someone who cares about you, who feels safe, who wants you around. You also feel a little hopeful that maybe you were right about Ruby, after all. That you didn’t start walking for nothing, that you weren’t following some childish delusion, that if something as good as Joel had happened to you when you left, that maybe she had found herself on a similar path, ran into somebody good who took her wherever she wanted to go and helped her find someplace she belonged. Maybe she found her way out to California, eventually. What you are certain of is that neither of you ever have to go back to that town ever again, and that feels good, too.

And if it feels good, then it can’t be bad.

tag list: tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg @alex-does-art-things @evolnoomym @annoyingmarvelreader @k1l4ni @joelsdagger (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

strangers | part 2

summary: nearly a month has passed since you agreed to go to california with joel, and you think you might love him. you trust him, and he makes you feel cared for and safe, but he hasn't been telling you the whole truth. eventually, you make a shocking discovery that makes him feel like a stranger to you all over again.

!!PLEASE READ WARNINGS, THIS IS A VERY DARK FIC!!

I've tried to label this fic as detailed and as boldly as possible. I will not be held responsible or bullied off the internet if you choose to read this potentially upsetting/triggering work of fiction anyway.

warnings: joel miller x f!reader, 18+, smut, age gap (reader is college-aged, joel is mid-50s), no outbreak au, serial killer!joel, dark!joel, DDDNE (graphic descriptions of blood, murder, and of captive/dead girls, non-con p-in-v sex (i'll say rape just in case but reader does not explicitly express non-consent), being held captive, degrading language toward victims/victim blaming, joel is implied to fantasize that you're dead while fucking you, kind of stockholm syndrome), non-con breathplay/choking, mommy & daddy issues, lying, gaslighting, coercion, manipulation, pet names (baby, darlin', sweetheart, babydoll, etc), no ellie/sarah but tommy has an unnamed daughter, somewhat inspired by "strangers" by ethel cain, vaguely set in the 70s/80s, please respectfully let me know if i missed anything and i will rectify the tags

word count: 8.1k

a/n: this is the second part. if the tags deter you from reading that's okay, just pretend joel and reader made it to california and they lived happily ever after. i understand i've written something dark and heavy and it isn't for everyone, you are welcome on my blog whether it's for you or not as long as everyone is respectful of each other <3

divider by @saradika

series masterlist/moodboard

part 3 (coming soon)

As the breeze begins to carry a chill that bites without the protection of a jacket or one of Joel’s flannels, the two of you have been spending the last month or so trying to outrun Autumn altogether as you make your way to California. You’ve crossed more state lines now than you ever could’ve imagined you would, and you and Joel have even made a game out of trying to spot the license plate of the farthest state away from wherever you are. He was impressed when you had recently managed to spot an Alaska plate in fucking Kansas, of all places. 

You spend your days visiting cheesy tourist traps and collecting cheap souvenirs from their gift shops, and your nights in motels or in his truck or in goddamn gas station bathrooms tangled up in each other’s bodies, unable to keep your hands off each other. The seal had finally broken just a few days after you had agreed to go to California with him, when he had laid his hand on your knee while he was driving, and you didn’t stop him from sliding it higher and higher, his fingers eventually making their way between your thighs and gently rubbing your clit through your shorts. Joel would’ve been content to play with your pussy just like that, pinching at your little nub and dipping his fingers into your drooling hole as he drove, but the noises you were making were driving him fucking insane. He had pulled off into a wooded area and instructed you to climb into the backseat, where he had shoved himself inside of you for the first time and fucked you until you saw stars. You never made it to wherever it was you were headed to that afternoon, deciding instead to just call it a day and spend the rest of it covered in each other’s sweat and come and breathing heavily into each other’s necks. 

You’ve seen new parts of Joel in other ways, too, in the time that you’ve been traveling with him. He’s been opening up to you, slowly but surely, as the weeks go on. You did eventually remember to ask him about that song you couldn’t quite make out at Moody’s, humming the bit of the chorus you could remember for him in hopes that he’d recognize it.

“I think I know the one, darlin’. Should have it on cassette somewhere here, ‘s called Alone and Forsaken, think it’s by Hank Williams. Hadn’t heard that one in a while, ‘s a winner, though,” he’d said.

You’d rifled through the contents of the glove box and pulled it out, excitedly swapping the tape with the one in the player and pressing the button on the dash to start the song. Joel’s fingers had begun to tap against the wheel immediately, and he seemed to relax at the sound of the guitar’s steady strumming. You had just watched him as the song played, admiring the subtle movements of the muscles in his face as he’d hummed along.

But he’d noticed your staring, after a while, and teased, “Y’know, really shouldn’t look at a man like that, babydoll. Might give ‘im some ideas.”

Babydoll. That was new, too. It had become his new favorite pet name for you, bestowed upon you when he had offered you another dress to wear from the stash of clothing belonging to Tommy’s daughter that he keeps under his backseat. Joel had told you eventually that he’d fibbed about his relationship with Tommy, just a little bit, and that he hasn’t actually seen him or his kid in quite some time. “Just kinda grew apart after a while, stopped keepin’ up with each other,” Joel had explained. “Jus’ never quite got around to gettin’ rid of all that stuff, I guess.”

You certainly didn’t mind having something new to wear, especially something as pretty as the little pink dress that got you your new name. Joel had looked at you hungrily when you’d first tried it on, raking his eyes up and down your form as you twirled for him.

“So pretty, sweetheart. Look just like a lil’ babydoll in that, don’t you?” Joel had complimented.

You’d giggled at the nickname, becoming shy as he’d stalked towards you and used a hooked finger to lift up your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his own. “Like that one, do ya? Like bein’ my babydoll, all mine?”

You’d sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, your brows peaked with need as your eyes had begun to glaze over from his gentle dominance. It had never taken much from him to make you start feeling a little floaty, even early on, ready to fall into his arms so he could make you gush onto his fingers or his cock or his tongue.

You’d nodded your head all syrupy and slow, making a little whimpering sound in affirmation.

“Say it,” he’d whispered, the hand propping up your chin slowly finding its way down to your neck, where it always seemed to land in your moments of intimacy. Joel had never really asked you if you liked it there or not, if you liked it when he squeezed your throat just right until your vision became spotty and your breath came out pinched and raspy, but you had learned to like it, to crave that guidance and control from him. He’d never taken it too far, just brought you teetering over the edge of unconsciousness, then allowed you to fill your lungs with air again. 

“I like it, Joel, like being yours…”

“Yeah… ‘n you’re gonna be mine forever, huh? Never gonna leave my side, always gonna belong to me, ain’t that right?” His grip on your windpipe had begun to tighten as he questioned you.

“Forever… ‘m yours, Joel…” you’d promised through a hoarse whisper.

A growl had rumbled from deep in Joel’s chest at your choked words, and he’d quickly let go of your throat to spin you around and shove you face-first into the creaking motel mattress, flipping up the skirt of your little babydoll dress and showing you just how pretty he thought you looked in it. “Mine, mine, mine,” he’d chanted as he caged you in with his heavy form, slamming inside of your aching cunt until you cried out, shuddering around him as he spilled inside of you. 

He calls you babydoll almost exclusively now, like it’s your actual name. Your everyday clothing consists almost entirely of frilly dresses and tiny tops and tight shorts from the supply in Joel’s truck, with maybe a few items he picks out for you at the occasional Goodwill mixed in. He’s made it so that you never have to think for yourself ever again, taking care of everything for you from picking out your outfits to ordering for you at the diners. All you have to worry about is being good, being his, his perfect little doll, and he says that you deserve a life as easy as this, that it’s the least he can do for you in exchange for your company, for being so good for him.

Joel does allow you to use your brain for some things, still, like bombarding him with the questions you’d begun stashing away in your mind all those weeks ago. Some of them he still answers vaguely, like where the scar on his nose came from, or if he’d been married before, or what his life was like before he met you. But sometimes you can get a story out of him, and it always feels like you’ve won the lottery when you’re able to get him talking. After the Hank Williams cassette had finished playing that day, you’d decided to ask him what he’d wanted to be when he grew up. 

He’d thought about it for a second, and then laughed at himself. “‘F I tell you, I don’t wanna hear any gigglin’ outta you over there, ‘s that clear?”

“I can’t promise you that if I don’t know what you’re gonna tell me. If you say, like, a rodeo clown or something, I’m gonna laugh.”

Joel had just glared at you, and you’d rolled your eyes.

“Fine, I won’t laugh, I promise. Just tell me.”

“Alright…” Joel had sighed. “I wanted to be a singer, actually. Believe it or not.”

You had almost started crying right then, the visual of a little Joel all those years ago wanting to grow up and become a singer being almost too much to bear. 

“Awe, Joel… You can sing? Can you—”

“No, I ain’t gonna sing for you. Don’t even ask, babydoll.”

Joel had seemed adamant about that at the time, but just a few days later when a violent thunderstorm was blowing through the town you’d stopped in for the night, you’d woken him up when you couldn’t fall asleep, and asked him in a trembling voice if he would sing for you. He’d just grunted and rolled back over at first, but you’d kept quietly begging him, and he eventually gave in to your little frightened sounding pleas. You’d rested your head against his chest as he stroked your hair and sang Alone and Forsaken for you a few times over, until the soothing sound of his voice and the quiet thumping of his heartbeat had lulled you back to sleep. The thunder had eventually retreated when it realized you weren’t scared of it anymore, now feeling safe and protected in Joel’s arms. 

He could only take so much more questioning from you after a while, though, until he decided it was about time for you to reveal more of yourself to him, and you’d thought that was fair. You’d spent a whole afternoon in the truck one day telling him about how your dad had passed away when you were still in high school, and how you’d always wished he could’ve seen you walk across the stage at graduation and go off to college. How he was the one who’d even encouraged you to go in the first place, when you hadn’t felt smart enough or good enough at anything to ever find the pursuit worthwhile. But he’d always been supportive of your artistic endeavors, the ones your mom had always called ‘useless’ and ‘a waste of time’ and ‘nothing that could ever amount to a real job’. Your dad had tried his best to make you believe otherwise, always proudly displaying your work around the house when your mother would allow it, and even framing some of it for his office. It was devastating when he had passed, but at least you felt you could make him proud in some way, by deciding to pursue a degree in art at the nearby state school. But then your mother had ruined your chances of ever finishing the program, and, well… here you are now. 

After you’d finished your story, Joel had comforted you just like he always did, promising to find you a sketchbook and some pencils at the next town you came across so you could keep nurturing your talents. He’d made good on his word, and now your time on the road is often spent sketching Joel, his cassettes, the mountains, anything you see that sparks inspiration and demands to be committed to paper.

Today, the two of you are on your way to see the world’s largest something or other in New Mexico, and you’ve become determined to etch a drawing onto every page of your book by the time you reach California. You’ve sketched just about everything in the truck at this point, and different tries at capturing Joel’s handsome side profile already take up more than half of the pages that you’ve filled out so far. You begin scouring the cabin of the truck, searching for something new you can draw. You eventually try bending forward to look under the bench seat, just in case you can find a crumpled up candy wrapper or something, but an even more interesting object catches your eye, tucked just behind Joel’s legs. It looks like an old shoebox, maybe containing some more tapes or things belonging to Tommy’s kid. You try to reach over to Joel’s side of the bench seat to grab it, and he almost swerves the truck off the road when he notices what you’re doing.

“What’re you…? Don’t touch that, babydoll, jus’ leave it alone,” he scolds.

You sit up straight again, taken aback by his tone. “Why? I was just looking for something new to draw, thought there might be something in there.”

“It’s just junk in there, baby, nothin’ you’d much be interested in,” Joel says, his grip on the steering wheel becoming more white-knuckled.

“So? I can’t draw some old junk?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Joel sighs in frustration. “‘Cause I said so, babydoll, Christ. Just leave it be, I’ll throw it out next time we stop. Find somethin’ else to draw.”

“Okay… ‘M sorry,” you respond timidly.

“‘S alright, sweet girl. ‘M sorry too, shouldn’ta yelled at you like that. Just… tryin’ to drive here, don’t want you reachin’ behind my legs and shit, ain’t safe.”

You just nod, popping open the glove compartment for the hundredth time in hopes that there could be something in there that you’d missed before. There isn’t, so you decide to pluck out that Hank Williams tape and sketch it again, humming the song to yourself in an attempt at self-soothing as you begin to outline the shape of it. It seems like a bad time to ask Joel to sing it for you again, but if you’re good for the rest of the day and make up for your earlier mistake, maybe you could hear it again tonight.

—

You’re just finishing up your sketch a half hour or so later, when Joel decides it’s time to stop for gas. You glance over at the fuel gauge on the dash, and it looks like the truck still has half a tank left, but you decide not to say anything about it. Just like he’d said when you had first reached for the shoebox, Joel swipes it from underneath the seat as he exits the truck, tossing it haphazardly into the trash can by the gas pump. 

“Dammit,” you hear him curse to himself, and you look out the window to see him staring angrily at the empty pocket inside of his wallet where cash should be. Joel opens up the passenger side door to explain, “Forgot I used up the last o’ my cash on dinner last night. Just… stay here, babydoll, gotta head inside ‘n use the ATM quick, alright?”

You nod obediently, and watch him take long strides toward the convenience store before disappearing inside. 

He’ll only be gone for a few minutes at the most, so you know that you have to make your move now. You’ve never had Joel bark at you before like he’d done when you had reached for that beat up cardboard box, and you still feel a little rattled by it. What could possibly have been in there that he didn’t want you to see? For the first time, you feel like you might not be able to trust him, and it makes you feel a little sick. You’ve started to feel like you might love Joel, and you think he probably feels the same way, even if you haven’t said those exact three words to each other yet. Someone who loves you wouldn’t hide things from you, would they? Especially not after you’ve already bared so much of your souls to each other, after you’ve decided that you belong to each other.

There’s only one way to find out, you decide.

You exit the truck quietly, swiftly closing the short distance between you and the trash can and peering into the black plastic bag that lines it. You fish out the shoebox from where it lays on top of other garbage, and crouch down in front of the gas pump to hide yourself from view. Taking a steadying breath, you carefully remove the weathered lid from the box and begin to examine its contents. At first glance, it seems to just be full of washed-out polaroids and a few random objects—a tarnished charm bracelet, a fraying ribbon, and a cracked pair of glasses among them. What is all this stuff? You think to yourself, Keepsakes from his former life, more of Tommy’s daughter’s things that he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of yet?

You pick up a photo laying face down on top of the pile and turn it over, almost immediately dropping it back into the box in favor of clapping your hand over your open mouth. You shut your eyes tightly as they begin to water, hoping that when you open them again, you’ll find that you were wrong about what you had just seen. That it was just a trick of the light, that it wasn’t what it seemed, that you had just imagined it.

But you aren’t so fortunate.

Your heart plummets into your stomach as you peer inside the box again, a sickly feeling of dread beginning to claw its way up the back of your neck. You examine the photo more closely, and it appears to be of a girl who looks about your age, bound at the hands, gagged, and naked. She’s kneeling on the damp forest floor, staring up at the photographer with a defeated, glazed-over expression. She’s bruised, bleeding from her nose, and filthy, with her hair tangled in knots and mascara-stained tears running down her cheeks. The photo looks to have captured her last moments alive. 

One by one, you quickly examine a dozen or so more photos as your pulse hammers hard in your throat. Each of them are nearly identical, all depicting a pretty early twenty-something, either restrained and begging for her life or already dead. They all have dates scribbled on the front that are spaced out a mere couple of weeks from each other, with the names of the girls written on the backs of them. To your horror, you notice that some of the polaroids even have bloody fingerprints staining their white frames. It seems impossible that Joel could be the one who took these photos, that he could be the one to reduce these young girls to nothing more than weak puddles of tears and blood. You begin desperately trying to convince yourself that this is all part of a fucked-up nightmare you’re moments away from waking up from, until a photo containing a bright flash of white catches your eye. You can’t help how your face contorts into a grimace when you examine the photo closer, your stomach lurching at the sight of the amount of blood spilling from the back of the girl’s head as she lays lifeless on a wooden floor. All that she’s wearing are her underwear and a white tank top, the ditsy floral pattern of which you could swear you’ve seen before.

You don’t understand why it looks so familiar to you until you spread around more of the polaroids in the box, and spot one capturing a girl tied up and gagged on a motel bed, wearing a baby pink dress that grotesquely juxtaposes the depravity of her situation. She has wide, pleading doe eyes and ribbons finishing the ends of each of her braids that kind of make her look like… a doll.

The realization hits you all at once, that nearly all of the clothes Joel has given you since the day you met him had never belonged to Tommy’s daughter at all, if he even has one, if Tommy even really exists. You’d been wearing Anna’s white tank top with the delicate floral print. Elizabeth’s pink babydoll dress. Even the clothes you have on now probably belonged to some of Joel’s victims, but you don’t think you can stand to find out which ones. 

Your thoughts begin to spiral out of control, an irrational part of your brain working overtime to come up with a million reasons why this can’t be true, that there has to be some other explanation for what you’re seeing, until you pick up a final photo, where the sleeve of Joel’s drab olive flannel is clearly visible in the corner. The shirt is tattered at the cuffs in the exact way that Joel’s is, and it has the same terracotta striping woven through the plaid pattern. Emerging from the bottom of the sleeve is a tanned, thick hand, wrapped tightly around a pale, fragile neck, with some of the girl’s blonde ringlet curls poking through the gaps between his fingers. When you flip over the photo, your blood runs cold when you read the name inscribed on the back—Ruby.

Your tears begin to fall then. How strange, how cruel, that fate has led you here, lured you straight to him. Someone that you thought you knew, trusted, loved, who’s suddenly a stranger to you all over again. You’ve just been doomed from the start, haven’t you? All along, it was Joel who had been responsible for building the trap you’ve found yourself ensnared in now. Ruby hadn’t run away at all that summer, hadn’t found a place she belonged, a place to start a real life for herself, a place to see her unlimited potential finally fulfilled. She’d met Joel, and he’d restricted her existence to nothing more than a polaroid that he keeps in a fucking shoebox under the seat of his truck. All along, this is where she’d been. 

You feel like throwing up. You’re reeling, completely horrified and sick to your stomach, your life as you had just come to know it having come crashing down around you in an instant. You quickly replace the lid on the box and throw it back into the trash can, hopefully never to be seen again. You scramble back inside the truck just in time for the convenience store door to swing open again, the little bell accompanying the movement sounding sharp and sinister as it announces Joel’s imminent arrival. Your pulse pounds erratically against your ribcage as you try to act as naturally as possible, forcing your shaking hands to look like they’re busy adding the finishing touches to your latest sketch. 

You don’t look at Joel as he approaches the truck, and he doesn’t seem to pay you much attention, either. He leans against the hood casually once he feeds the bills into the pump, letting the tank fill the rest of the way up with gas. You have to come up with an escape plan now, before your poorly disguised agitation gives you away and he figures out what you’ve seen. 

When his task is finished, Joel climbs back into the driver’s seat exhales a deep breath, like he feels relieved to have finally discarded the evidence so you’d never find out the truth about him. You’re determined to keep him clueless for as long as you can.

“Ready to keep goin’, babydoll? Should only be another hour or so ‘fore we get to the next stop,” he asks, reaching over to you to gently tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. You flinch away from his touch instinctually, then silently curse yourself for already doing such a shitty job at keeping up your facade.

“A-actually, um…” You swallow hard. “I’m kinda g-getting a headache, it really hurts. And I feel really s-sick. Is it okay if we just… go straight to a motel? I just wanna… lay down,” you lie, screwing up your face into a pained wince and wrapping your arms around your stomach in an effort to make it all more convincing.

“Oh, you poor thing…” Joel coos, placing the back of his hand against your forehead. “Y’ do feel kinda hot… Sure, darlin’. Think there’s a place not too much further down the road here, jus’ hang tight.”

“T-thank you,” you reply weakly. Your voice is coming out a little uneven, but you hope it just adds to the believability of your act instead of raising suspicion. You try to cover it up with a cough and a little pained groan, just for good measure.

Joel doesn’t waste any more time getting back on the road, and you stay quiet for the short ride to the nearest motel, doing your best to hold back your tears and even out your breathing. You’ll need to be calm and clear-headed in order to have any chance at escape, lest you want to meet the same fate as the dozens of other girls who were probably also blinded by Joel’s southern charm and good looks, who were manipulated by his lies and tricked into believing that he could give them a happy ending. Was he ever going to let you see California? Or had he been leading you to your death all along?

You’re going to be the one who lives. For Ruby, you have to be. For all of them.

—

Just like the first night you’d spent with him, Joel has you wait in the truck while he checks in at the counter and retrieves the keys to your room before coming back to get you. You fake a stumble when you step down from the truck, and Joel mumbles a ‘Jesus, babydoll’ before hoisting you into his arms and carrying you across the room’s threshold, setting you down softly onto the bed.

“Whaddya need, sweet girl? Water? Some crackers, or somethin’? Bet I could ask the front desk if they got some medicine or anythin’ like that,” Joel asks, sitting on the edge of the bed while you curl up and turn away from him. You do your best not to flinch this time when he decides to comfortingly massage the back of your neck.

“Can you ask, please? It hurts so bad,” you whine, unable to tamp down your shuddering sobs any longer.

“Sure I will, my poor lil’ girl… I’ll be right back, alright?”

Joel pets your hair for a moment, and the gesture would normally flood your belly with lovesick butterflies, but it only feels predatorial now, like a lion trying to convince its prey that it only wants to play, that it won’t be torn to pieces and eaten alive. 

Your body finally relaxes when Joel leaves the room, and you count out thirty seconds to hopefully allow him to reach the front office before you make your break. When you whisper the final ‘thirty’ to yourself, you spring out of bed and sprint out the door, almost tripping over your own feet in your race to reach the payphone you’d spotted earlier in the parking lot. You figured that trying to call for help would be a smarter move than running, and you’d never make it far on foot, anyway, not in the flimsy little dress and cheap canvas sneakers you’re wearing. You’d stolen a few quarters out of the truck’s center console while Joel was letting the gas pump, and you shakily deposit them into the slot, nearly dropping them. You punch the numbers 9-1-1 into the keypad, nearly ripping the phone clean off the hook as you bring it up to your ear.

“Come on, come on, come on…” You mutter to yourself, drumming your bitten fingernails against the hard plastic handset as the mocking dial tone trills in your ear.

“911, what is your emergency?” comes a voice on the other line, female. 

“Please, I need hel–” but before you can even finish the word, he’s on you, one large hand clapped over your mouth while the other rips the phone out of your hand and slams it back into the receiver. You kick and bite and thrash, but your pitiful attempts at escape do nothing to deter him. After all, his pickup is the only car in the lot, and your room is the only one with a light on. The clerk who checked him in could have never existed at all, for all you know. There’s not a soul around to hear you cry or beg or scream, except for him. You should have known that he would see straight through you, that he would’ve anticipated you getting curious and made sure he was always one step ahead of you. Joel drags you back to the room with a two-handed grasp on your upper arm, gripped onto you hard enough you’re sure his fingertips will leave bruises.

“No, no, no, please! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Joel!” You plead, using his first name in a pathetic effort to try to appeal to whatever morality he might have left.

“You stupid fuckin’ bitch…” he spits.

Joel kicks open the door to your room and flings it shut behind him so hard you’re surprised the wood doesn’t shatter, splintering into a million sharp little pieces. He throws you down onto the stained double bed you’ll be sharing tonight, if he doesn’t decide to use the yellowed comforter to wrap your lifeless corpse in later instead. You push yourself up into a sitting position and brace yourself for whatever he’ll do to you for disobeying him, for trying to escape. You’ve never seen this side of him before, never even come close to upsetting him like this in the time that you’ve known him. 

“Don’t know who the fuck you were tryin’ to call, but you better get it through that dumb fuckin’ brain of yours that nobody gives a fuck about you anymore except for me, you got that? Cops ain’t gonna do nothin’ about some fuckin’ runaway slut, ‘specially not one who’s got nobody to miss her in the first place. ‘S why you ran away, ‘s why I picked you up… ‘Cause we both know ain’t nobody gonna come lookin’ for you. Wouldn’t be able to find your body even if they did,” he barks at you, a huge paw wrapped in the hair at the base of your skull to keep your gaze trained on him.

“Please, please don’t hurt me! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I won’t ever do it again, I promise–”

“Y’ know… I saved you from that hell hole, I gave you everything, and this is the fuckin’ thanks I get?!” The low gravel of his voice seems to be coming from somewhere deep and cavernous inside of him. It fills the entire room with a black smoke that penetrates your eardrums and fills your mouth with something bitter.

“I know, I know, I don’t know what I was thinking, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you–”

“Yeah, I know you weren’t fuckin thinkin’. Dumb fuckin’ cunt.” Joel releases your hair and you collapse in on yourself, beginning to sob all over again. You know it probably makes you look weak in front of him, but you can’t help it as the dread washes over you. You’re on the verge of hyperventilating, wondering if this will be the one mistake that seals your fate, if he’ll let you live long enough to see those aching little imprints on your arm from where he grabbed you bloom into purple-red blotches in the morning. With your eyes shut tight and hot tears streaming down your cheeks, you’re heaving, trying to catch your breath as you release broken little noises that sound like sorry, sorry, sorry. The repeated apology almost resembles some kind of prayer, as if that could save you now.

He lets you run the gamut of your terror for a minute before pinching the bridge of his nose, the calloused pads of his fingers squeezing that angry red scar that adorns it. He expels a heavy sigh and sits beside you on the bed, the springs of the old mattress screeching as they dip with his weight.

“C’mere, babydoll,” he says, quietly now, and you feel too weak to fight him as he pulls you into his lap and helps you to straddle your legs across his thick waist. You can feel his hardening bulge against your core through the thin material of your panties, exposed now by the skirt of your dress riding up and pooling at the creases of your thighs. 

“‘S okay, darlin’ I forgive you.” He lets you cry into his shoulder as he shushes you, rocking you side to side and petting the top of your head as if he were soothing a spooked little dog. When you’re able to take deep breaths again, your senses are flooded with his familiar comforting scent. The combination of his natural cologne and the softness of his voice reaches inside some deep corner of your brain that isn’t completely terrorized and disgusted by him, and it’s enough for you to lift your head up to face him again.

“Y-you do?” You squeak out as you sniffle, and Joel wipes away the last of your salty tears with one of his rough thumbs, sucking it into his mouth afterwards. He lets out a soft groan before gripping your jaw so that the fat of your cheeks makes your lips pucker.

“Yeah, babydoll… But why would you try to go off runnin’ like that, hm? Thought you were mine, my girl, thought we understood each other.”

His tone, the furrow in his brows and the slight pout of his lips make you feel guilty, somehow, upset with yourself for making him feel this way, for trying to run from his care and affection. “I-I thought so, too. But then… then I…” you stutter, finding it impossible to speak coherently anymore.

“Then what, babydoll?” Joel prompts calmly, stroking his thumb along your cheek as he squeezes it.

“T-the box… I saw—”

“Yeah… You saw my girls, didn’t you, baby? That’s why you tried to run, ain’t it? Look at me, babydoll.”

Joel jostles your face in his grip, and you obey his command, nodding slowly. When you look into his eyes, you finally notice how dark they’ve become, their usual warm amber color now appearing more red.

“You… you killed her. I-it was you.”

“Which one’re you talkin’ about, baby? Collected a lotta girls over the years, lose track of ‘em after a while.”

Your stomach churns at his callousness. “R-Ruby… I saw h-her. Y-you… you were…” You can’t bring yourself to finish your sentence, your words interrupted by your hiccuping breaths.

“Oh, Ruby…” Joel shifts his hips into yours, a growl rumbling from deep in his chest as he closes his eyes for a moment, turning over her name on his tongue. “Yeah… She was a pretty thing, wasn’t she? Feisty one, though. ‘Bout broke my goddamn nose. Wasn’t gonna be so rough with her, but… she practically asked for it.” He brushes his finger across the scar on his face, and your eyes well up again when you make the connection. “What else did you see, hm? Talk t’ me about it, babydoll.” Even through his jeans, you can feel that he’s fully hard now, turned on at the prospect of reliving those gruesome scenes.

Nauseating visions of the polaroids flash across your memory—the girl bleeding from the back of her head, the one with the cut throat, the one with her neck bent at an unnatural angle. “No, please don’t make me…” you shake your head at him, your bottom lip trembling as you fight back more stinging tears. 

Joel releases his hold on your face in favor of giving your cheek a harsh smack. “Wasn’t a fuckin’ question, girl.”

You use his loosened grip as an opportunity to try to scramble out of his lap, hitting your hands against his chest as you try to push off the bed and get back onto your feet.

“Nuh-uh, I don’t think so. Quit fuckin’ strugglin’.” 

He’s got you flipped onto your back in a second, with your legs dangling off the edge of the bed. He stands between your parted thighs, and you look up at him through blurred vision, one of his strong hands now attempting to cut off the blood supply to your brain as he uses the other to free his thick cock from his jeans. His teeth are bared, and the look in his eyes is faraway, as if the Joel you thought you knew is somewhere else entirely, miles away from this dingy motel room off the side of the freeway. He’s long gone now, replaced by this monstrous version of him that you don’t recognize.

“Keep fightin’, see what fuckin’ happens… I’d take the prettiest photos of you, y’ know that? Add you to my lil’ collection, have no choice but to be mine forever… You’d fit right in, babydoll, this perfect fuckin’ body.”

He slides a hand up and down his leaking shaft as he rambles, and it’s impossible to deny how much it excites him, talking about his killing, his ritual. 

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it, promised myself I’d be done after the last one but—fuck—just can’t fuckin’ stop myself. ‘S just so goddamn easy,” Joel hisses through his teeth. His hand never leaves your neck as he flips up the skirt of your dress and yanks your ashamedly damp panties down your trembling legs. He flings them haphazardly onto a discolored patch of carpet in the corner of the room, and it makes you wince, imagining how he must’ve disposed of so many other girls before you in the same careless manner.  

As hopeless as it seems now, you won’t be one of them. You don’t have any other choice, you have to make it out of this alive, you have to do something.

“W-what… what is?” You manage to choke out.

Joel looks down at you, almost startled, as if you’re an inanimate object speaking to him, like he didn’t expect you to have a voice.

“Huh?”

“Y-you said… it’s so easy. What’s easy?”

He licks his lips as he thinks on his response, a sickly smile tugging at the corners. “Pickin’ up a pretty slut nobody’s gonna miss, takin’ her home with me and turnin’ her fuckin’ lights out. They practically do it to themselves with all their strugglin’ and bitin’ and scratchin’, just want ‘em to fuckin’—unh—behave.”

You whine as he pushes his tip inside your little hole, but try to maintain your composure. You think you understand now, why he’s acting this way. He wants you to want to be with him, and it triggers some kind of deepset anger inside of him when you fight, when you run, when you throw his affection back in his face. Killing the girls might not even be his end goal, at least not when he first takes them, more like an inevitable side effect of what happens when they try to escape his captivity and he feels rejected, hurt, tossed aside. And then he lashes out. And then they die. And then the cycle repeats. You’d lasted this long because you’d been the first to not reject his advances, because he’d seen himself in you.

If you don’t fight, if you can keep him talking, if you can convince him that this is what you want, you might have a chance at survival. It’s not much of a strategy, but it’s something, and it’s better than giving up.

“How… how do you d-do it?” you ask, a little less rasp in your voice as his grip on your throat begins to loosen, but his hand never leaves it entirely. He slides the rest of his cock inside you as you stutter out your question, and he laughs.

“You sure you wanna hear it, babydoll? Might be a bit much for you.” He’s fully seated inside you now, and the stretch of him burns. Even though the two of you have been fucking like bunnies practically every day since you’ve met, you can only fight against your body so much, and the fear you’re trying desperately not to clue him into is making every one of your muscles tighten around him.

“No! No, I-I wanna know. Tell me, please…” You bat your eyelashes up at him for good measure, and his canine grin widens some more.

“God, y’ really are just as fucked up as I am, huh? ‘S why I kept you around, ‘cause you’re like me…” He begins to piston his thick length in and out of you, affectionately tucking a lock of hair behind your ear with his free hand as he does. The other one constricts your airflow once again, and you stifle a whimper, suppressing the urge to argue and spit back that you’re not like him. “Usually strangle ‘em, little throats always fit so perfectly in my hands, jus’ like this…”

His voice trails off as he shoves into you harder, picking up his pace. Your breathing becomes broken and frantic as you claw through the black cloud closing in on your vision in your effort to keep him talking. “And then what?” you squeak out.

“Squeeze ‘em, real hard and slow,” Joel growls. “Try not to come in my jeans just from the pathetic lil’ sounds they make when they’re prayin’ to God to save ‘em. Ain’t so gentle with ‘em if they put up too much of a fight, though. Jus’ gotta cut the shit sometimes, slice ‘em open or split their fuckin’ skulls just to make ‘em stop. God, you’d never believe the amount of blood a lil’ girl like you’s got in ‘em.” He’s slamming his hips into your sore cunt now, both hands wrapped tightly around your neck as he uses it for leverage. You feel your muscles begin to slacken, either from the lack of oxygen or from his just-right strokes against that little spot deep inside, you can’t be sure. It was just a survival instinct, you’ll tell yourself in the morning.

“Yeah? It’s… it’s a lot?” you prompt, skin feeling tingly and voice coming out hoarse, sounding like it had come from somewhere else other than your own body. It could’ve just been the wind, a tractor-trailer whistling by outside.

“Yeah, ‘s a lot. Bleed so fuckin’ much, y’ think it might never stop. Just keeps—fuck—comin’...”

Joel’s voice breaks on the telltale word, his thrusts becoming frenzied and disjointed as he nears his release. A few high-pitched moans manage to squeeze past your compressed vocal chords, and they’re half-genuine, half-forced as a means to spur him on and speed up the process. The stretches of skin between his thumbs and forefingers are pressing down, down, down against your windpipe, and you plead with him as coherently as possible in your race against that darkness threatening to swallow you whole. 

“C-come, Joel, p-please, want you to—”

“Shut up, babydoll. Fuck… Eyes on me, c’mon,” he orders, shaking you by the neck to wake you up a bit, prevent your eyes from closing all the way. “Look at me. Just… lay fuckin’ still, don’t make a sound. Hold your goddamn breath, okay? Don’t even fuckin’ blink.”

He’s never demanded something like this before, but you aren’t exactly in a position to disobey. You do as he asks, and some of it comes involuntarily, anyway. With your hands laid at your sides, eyes looking into Joel’s own but somehow past them, unblinking, your mouth slack and lungs paralyzed, you almost feel like…

Like one of them. 

“Tha’s it, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants to himself, rutting into your limp body with abandon as he chases his high. You can’t help but let another tear slip past your lashes, and he doesn’t wipe it away this time. 

A few more bruising pulses of his cock later, and all the blood rushes back into your head at once as Joel lets go of his vice grip around your neck, collapsing on top of your still form and breathing heavily into the damp skin of your neck where your wet tears have collected. He stays like that for a while, still slotted inside you, and you let him come back into himself for as long as he needs, not daring to move a muscle until he permits you to do so. 

Joel slides himself out of your leaking hole when he’s finally caught his breath, grunting as he pushes himself up off the bed and runs a hand through his sweat-damp hair. He studies your abused form, then tuts when he notices the marks he left around your throat.

“Better make sure you wear your hair down tomorrow, I reckon. Got a decent record of keepin’ the law off my ass, I’d rather keep it that way.” 

Tomorrow. He plans on letting you live. Until then, anyway. 

“Okay,” you agree quietly.

Joel doesn’t let you out of his sight again for the rest of the evening. He’d helped you up off the bed and into the shower, where he’d cleaned both of your bodies and scrubbed the dried tears and sweat from your skin. He’d sunk his claws into your scalp as he washed your hair under the scalding water, and you wondered if the suds could carry even the intangible filth down the drain with it—the guilt, the fear, the defeat, the violation. You almost wish you hadn’t looked in the box at all. What difference would it have made, if you’d stayed with him in ignorance? Those girls are still dead. It’s not like you can save them now. You couldn’t even save yourself.

Joel changes you into one of his large t-shirts for you to sleep in tonight, instead of a frilly nightgown or something else short and revealing that he’d usually pick out for you. You suppose that the choice of clothing acts as a more visible representation of his ownership over you. He’s marking his territory, scenting you like a dog. Like you’re his bitch.

Joel holds you suffocatingly close to him in bed that night, his arms wrapped around you so tightly that it’s difficult for your ribs to expand. He keeps one hand possessively wrapped around the column of your neck, not squeezing, just to remind you what he’s capable of. As if you could ever forget. 

“Y’know what, babydoll? I think we could be partners, you and I,” Joel says in a slow, gravelly voice, right next to your ear.

“W-what do you mean?” You whisper back into the darkness.

“I just… I tried to quit, y’ know, but I don’t think I can. I don’t want to. Too damn old and slow to keep chasin’ after ‘em anymore, but… ‘f I keep you around, you’d just make the perfect bait, wouldn’t you? That pretty face, sweet lil’ smile, you could lure ‘em straight to me, they’d never see it comin’.”

“See… what coming?”

“My hands. The knife. A fuckin’ rock. Whatever, ‘s up to them.”

His words linger in the air, and you know you should say something, but how could you possibly respond to what he’s asking of you?

“You want me to… to kill—”

“No, no, ‘course not, babydoll. Wouldn’t even have to be in the room while it’s happenin’, would never ask my sweet girl to get her hands dirty like that. Jus’ gotta bring ‘em to me, tha’s all. Maybe go after ‘em if they try to run. I mean… you’d rather it be them than you, wouldn’t you sweetheart?” Joel’s hand closes in around your throat, and you understand now what he’s offering you—a deal. Your life in exchange for helping him grow his collection of victims, helping him satisfy his urges. He’s made you feel indebted to him, like you owe him something in exchange for letting you live tonight. He thinks he’s found something special in you, a victim who finally can’t run away from him, who won’t, now. There’s enough of a connection still here, although held together by fear, that he knows you won’t try escaping again. Because he saved you, the first time from starving on the side of the road, the second time from himself. And you owe him your life, now, in some form or another. 

You only nod against the pillow, but it seems to be enough for him.

Joel kisses the back of your head, breathing in the smell of your hair. “I love you, babydoll.”

His fingers press harder against your arteries, making it clear that you have no choice but to respond with what he wants to hear.

“I love you too, Joel.”

The words are still true, you think, somehow. But it just feels like you’re saying them to a stranger now.

You wish you would’ve listened to the one useful thing your mother had ever told you—not to talk to strangers, or you might fall in love.

tag list: tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg @alex-does-art-things @evolnoomym @annoyingmarvelreader @k1l4ni @joelsdagger @hjzghi-blog @natalieispunk (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

smother - part i: deliverance

dark!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: starving. lost. desperate. you find a cabin in the woods, and to your dismay, it's occupied. a plan to have a quick bite of food with an intense, intriguing stranger turns into more than you'd bargained for when he makes you realize everything you've been missing out on. 8.6k words chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI! noncon, nonconsensual touching, dubcon - reader eventually enthusiastically consents but the syndrome is stockholming so its dubcon, reader is a virgin, big juicy age gap (reader is 19, joel is 55) manipulation/lying/gaslighting, slow burn and tension building chapter, joel is kind of a creepy menace ngl a/n: i'm so so very excited to share the first chapter of my new series! (if this flops after how much i got hyped for it i will be logging off forever) the themes in this story are dark so if the tags aren’t for you it’s understandable & just keep scrollin on by! this will end up being nasty and smutty, but only after a wee bit of buildup so don't fear. comments and reblogs are always beyond appreciated!

Save me. Please, anyone…

Another wave of desolate, crying desperation tears through you as you trudge along, tripping yet again - maybe over your own two feet, a root, the very ground you walk on, something. You’re much too hazy and burnt out to even care what you stumbled on as you just press on, press on, press on.

A wave of pain rolls through your stomach again as it burns cavernously empty. You move as a ghost, a shell of yourself now, using passing trees as support. Your hands touch the cold wood reluctantly, a painful little hiss through your teeth as your fingers practically cramp up from the cold. You’d lost your gloves somewhere along the way, days ago now, what feels like a lifetime. You need to stop and rest desperately now, your body close to giving out. Your heart hammers in fear, wondering if you’d even be able to get up again.

A cabin comes into view in the distance, tucked nicely in a clearing of trees. You think your eyes are deceiving you, that you’ve finally succumbed to the madness that comes with such hunger and loneliness, your brain conjuring up images to comfort you. You see smoke coming out of a chimney on the roof, and your heart equally swells and drops at the discovery - it’s not a shelter for you alone, no. Not a lucky discovery, somewhere to lay your head tonight that’s dry and warm without disturbance. Someone already lives here, has a home here, and they might not take too kindly to strangers. If there’s anything you’ve learned in the last few weeks of your own personal hell, it’s to tread carefully. Always.

You keep your footsteps light and quiet, trying to approach with some semblance of caution. Your empty stomach is pushing you along, begging for any scrap of food that might be inside, hopefully offered up to you by the kindness of a stranger. Berries and the occasional rabbit or lucky can of food found were not enough to live off of anymore - you could feel the way your body faded away by the day, losing any bit of strength you’d had in the first place.

You pause, hitching your breath and then barely daring to breathe at all when you get close enough to hear a sound - a low, throaty grunting followed by the crack of wood. Your eyes scan the area as you sneak closer and then land upon him. He’s broad and muscled, you can see that much from back here. Messy, dark hair that curls all around his head and down his neck. When his body turns enough that you see his face a little bit more, you notice he looks older and has dark, piercing eyes. They send a shudder through you, even from afar, only making you feel colder out in this frosty afternoon.

You wrap your coat a little tighter and decide to get closer, assess the situation, see if he seems friendly enough to give you something to eat and send you on your merry way. He swings an ax high up in the air and brings it down swiftly onto a large piece of wood, splitting it before tossing the logs into a pile already full of more firewood. You press your lips together, noticing how strong he is, betting there are well built up muscles underneath that flannel shirt of his. That makes him a threat, a big one, you quickly assess. 

You’re too distracted, not watching your step, when a large branch cracks underneath your boot. You wince and squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, holding perfectly still, your breath coming out in quick, staccato exhales.

“H-hey!” you hear a gruff voice, sounding out of breath. You peek your eyes open slowly to see the man looking in your direction and silently curse yourself. “C’mon out!” he yells, and you see him reach to his waist, hands grazing a shining revolver holstered there.

Your stomach pulls into tight knots and you stand frozen for a few moments. Your brain quickly assesses everything, weighing the options. Running away, with no possibility of eating a single thing is one option, but the likelihood this stranger will shoot you seems high no matter what, so you decide to take your chances.

You put your hands in front of you, palms out, and slowly emerge from behind the trees. You walk gingerly along the crisp, frosty grass, crunching under your feet every step of the way. Your anxious breaths come out in little puffs in front of you as the cold air enters and exits your lungs.

The man falters, his fist closing and then opening again, pulling away from the revolver on his hip a bit. He blinks hard, staring at you in this silent showdown. “W-well shit, you’re just a girl…” he finally says quietly to himself, his posture relaxing a little. You stand perfectly still, choked up now that you’re confronted with the idea of speaking to him, such a large, imposing wall of a man, and those eyes, god, those eyes.

“I’m not gonna hurt you if you don’t give me a reason to, now, girl.” His voice is the tiniest bit softer, and you pick up on his Southern drawl, an accent you’ve heard a few times before. “Do ya need help?” He wipes his forehead with the back of his arm, a gleam of sweat having built up from chopping wood and his large chest still heaving. He takes a step closer to you, and you don’t step back, but feel every muscle coil up tightly as your mind screams at you that this was a mistake, a huge fucking mistake. Your feet tingle, toes flexing and getting ready to run, but you can’t make yourself do it, to take that first step.

Instead, you nod. “I- y-yes…” you say quietly. You’ll never understand why you say it, other than the fact that you’re drawn in by him, by his chestnut hair flecked with gray, his patchy beard that he’s currently scratching. By his build that looks so… safe yet dangerous, but you get the feeling that no, he’d never hurt you. You envision those arms wrapping around you, holding you tightly, shielding you from the world and everything you’ve been through. You never thought much about relationships or boys before - just a few simple and innocent crushes, but it hadn’t been on your radar as such a shy kid and teenager. But this… this was what people talked about - attraction. It nearly stole your breath the closer you got to him, threatening to suck you into what felt like an endless void. 

“Alright,” the man replies, trying to match your quieter demeanor. He glances around, eyes narrowed and scanning the woods beyond you. “You with anyone? Or all alone out here?”

You know why he’s asking, you’ve seen what people can do - sending someone innocent and unimposing out to lay a trap, but you don’t lie when you shake your head. “A-alone. I’m alone, swear, sir.”

His jaw seems to tick, noticeable even from the distance you’re at before he answers you. “Okay, then. C’mon a little closer, I won’t bite, okay?” he says, and he’s so convincing that you do believe him, despite your instincts telling you otherwise. The world is cruel and unrelenting, taking away most of the trust you’ve ever had in humanity the second you place it into anything or anyone. 

You move a little closer, small, gentle steps, and he nods encouragingly. 

“Now there ya go. Look at ya…” he marvels with a click of his tongue, shaking his head once you’re just a few feet away from him. 

He takes in your messy hair, slightly matted from wearing a winter hat on and off the last few weeks and sleeping on the ground. Your clothes have seen better days too, your skin smudged with dirt no matter how many water sources you found to try and rinse off a little bit. Even despite all of that, he gazes at you with a curiosity, with that look of interest that you felt like you’d given him without trying to. It’s quiet for another moment, the both of you sizing each other up, until Joel’s look turns a little more pitiful when you shiver as a sudden gust of wind whips past you, your threadbare coat doing little to protect you from the chill in the air here. You can’t be sure if your shuddering has less to do with the wind and more with the way that this man’s eyes are digging into what feels like your very soul.

“We gotta get you inside, okay? You’re shakin’, and you look like you ain’t had a proper meal in… too long…” He continues to eye you up and down, taking in your weak frame. 

You stay silent for another moment, swallowing hard and then shuddering again. “I - I don’t know…” you breathe out. You might have some sudden, fantastical dream that this man is your savior, but it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be cautious - the mind is a tricky, deceiving thing.

“I ain’t gonna ask again, ain’t gonna beg ya, girl. C’mon,” he says a little more roughly, a hand shooting out quickly and grabbing you by the wrist and tugging. “Just want to get a good meal in you, alright?”

You wince at the grasp on your wrist, the roughness and hardness he’s starting to show you, but you let him pull, starting to move your feet and trail after him. 

“T-thank you…sir,” you murmur quietly, and he swings his head to look back at you, his eyes softening. 

“You’re welcome. Now get inside and get warm. I’ve got a fire goin’.” He lets go of your wrist, trusting you to follow him as his heavy boots clunk up the few steps leading to the front door of his cabin. It’s modest, beautifully constructed, all dark wood around the outside and a small porch. You start to wonder if this man built it himself, or just found it as it is. Your initial impression of him leads you to believe that he does seem like the type to build a whole god damn cabin. He half looks like a lumberjack already in the plaid flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. 

“Found this place ‘bout five years ago,” he says as if he could read your mind while he swings the door open. “Real nice and private, so don’t worry.”

Your eyes narrow slightly at his last comment, but you try to brush it off as you enter inside with him. The warm air hits your body, an immediate balm to your frayed nerves and chilled skin, a slightly smoky smell from the fire hits your nostrils and you immediately hear the crackle and pop of the logs in the little fireplace. The cabin is mainly one big room, a kitchen tucked into the corner right to the left of the door, and the living room beyond that with cozy couches and chairs, even a TV that you doubt is working but find yourself hopeful for some reason. It’s been a long time since you were able to watch a movie, flashing back to childhood memories when you’d lived in a more stable, thriving community that had power. 

Stairs beyond that lead to what you assume are bedrooms or a bathroom, and your eyes curiously take in all the little details and decor - the man’s jackets hanging along the wall near the entrance, his rifle propped next to the door and several different pairs of worn boots. 

You realize you’re just standing right near the doorway, silently looking around in a daze while your new acquaintance has been trying to get your attention. 

“Hey, girl, I’m talkin’ t’ya…” his voice says, the noise fading back into your consciousness.

You shake your head. “S-sorry,” you say quietly, a shy little squeak. “I was just -“

“S’alright. I got some stew goin’, that okay? I mean y’don’t have much of a choice, but I’ll ask anyhow,” he says with a wry chuckle. You simply nod in response. 

“Now go on, put your things down and sit ‘n get comfortable,” he waves towards the general direction of the kitchen table and the couch before turning back to the stove to stir the pot simmering there. You stand, feeling frozen still, panic threatening to climb up through your insides and completely take over. You still don’t feel safe, despite this man offering to warm you and feed you. How could you, you think, when you’ve been running for several weeks, trying to get away from the carnage that became your life. 

He eyes you, unmoving and frightened looking and sighs heavily. “I said,” he says, tension thickening in the air around you, “Sit.”

You clear your throat, desert dry and scratchy, and set your backpack by the door, slowly creeping over to the couch, not wanting to make this mystery man any angrier. You settle yourself down and the cushions feel like heaven, your legs and body achy from the lack of comfort you’ve had for weeks. You try not to show just how good it feels to settle into the soft, plush fabric, letting the cushions mold to your body.

“Good,” Joel coos as he glances at you from the stove. “Now that we’ve got you settled in, you got a name?”

You weakly tell him your name and he shows you the first little smile you’ve seen from him, nodding. “Gotcha. I’m Joel, okay?”

“O-okay.” You push the words out while you watch him stir the pot on the stove. You sit in silence for a few moments, thankful for the time to just catch your breath and think. Just one bowl of stew, and you’ll be out of here. You’ll ask if there’s a community nearby, somewhere that could take you in, then grab that information and run, not bother this man any more than you need to.

Joel walks over, handing you a cup of water that you shamelessly start to gulp down before he goes back and ladles some of the delicious smelling stew into a bowl. The second the scent hits you, your stomach rumbles loudly. Joel cracks a smile as he hears it and continues ladling, a brow quirked. 

“Hungry, huh?” he asks, walking the steaming bowl over to you with a spoon. You gingerly take it from his hands, being careful not to brush your still chilled fingers against his. You swear his eyes flash at you when he notices how avoidant you’re being, but he turns and walks back to the stove, getting himself a bowl as well. Joel settles down into a chair across from the couch where you sit with a weathered groan, just watching you for a few quiet moments. It does everything but put you at ease, your stomach twisting a little. You blow on a spoonful of stew before taking a bite, your mouth an explosion as it waters and takes in the delicious, rich, food. 

“Mmm,” you whine out, unable to help it. Your body wants to lunge forward, lap the stew up until every single drop is in your starved body and you can finally feel a sense of fullness again. You quickly take another spoonful, much too hot, and wince a little as it hits your tongue. 

“Slow on down, girl,” Joel says. “Let’s talk a little and it’ll slow down your eating.”

You just stare, noticing your body is trembling a little bit, and has been since you met Joel outside. You try to take a deep breath to settle your nerves, your legs so tensely pressed together that it's starting to hurt.

“You feelin’ afraid of me, that it?” he asks you, looking a little too self satisfied at the observation as he crosses his arms and leans towards you. His biceps bulge and stretch with the motion and you can’t help but find your eyes drawn to them, the way they pull at the soft flannel of his shirt. You feel your face heat up all the way to your ears and you blink hard, averting your eyes. 

“I- I mean… I don’t know you…” you mutter, trying to sound more confident than you feel.

“I know,” he says, sounding more sympathetic. “Done some bad things in my time, so hell, maybe you should be scared of me. I ain’t a nice guy. But I won’t hurt someone like you, promise ya that.” His words are enough of a reason for you to hightail it out of here the first second you can, but why do you believe them? Why do you believe him?

“How d-do you know I’m not bad too? That I don’t deserve it?” His eyes narrow and his lip twitches into a smirk before he lets out a mocking little chuckle in your direction.

“Oh sweetheart, a man jus’ knows these things. You never hurt even a fly, now have you?” That smirk stays plastered on Joel’s face as he asks and it frustrates you how little of a threat he sees in you, how little fight you have left to give. Yet you can’t find yourself blaming him, you think. If you were facing yourself in his position you’re sure you’d look like as much of a feeble joke as you feel.

You frown, still unable to look him in the eyes for longer than a few seconds, and shake your head. “No… just for hunting…” you admit.

“Alright then. Y’don’t need to act tough in front of me, girl, got it?” Joel concludes, going back to eating his stew.

“Got it,” you respond quietly, letting yourself sink further into the couch as you feel your muscles slowly relaxing.

“Now tell me... what’s this all about? What’s a little young thing like you doin’ out here by herself?”

You bite your lip and sip slowly on another spoonful of stew. “I’m… uh…” you stutter nervously. 

“Spit it out now, there’s nothin’ to be afraid of here, hm?” Joel tries reassuring you, but his words keep coming out so gruffly, doing little to make you feel much better. 

You inhale a deep breath. “Okay…” You swallow. “I was in a… community. I lived there a long time. T-they’re all gone now, I think. We got completely overrun and so I ran.” You sniffle as your nose starts to run from the warmth of the house opposing the cold you’d gotten accustomed to. 

Joel leans forward a bit in his chair, taking a hearty bite of stew, mulling your words over. “Overrun how?” he asks simply, glancing at you, studying your movements, your body language, everything. 

“U-uh, hunters, raiders, whatever they are. Bad.. b-bad people…” You look down at your bowl, not wanting to meet the intensity of his gaze, afraid to fall into his strange, hard warmth. 

“Hm… awful fuckers, ain’t they,” he says, scratching a hand down his beard. “You got away, then?”

You nod and bite inside of your lip, taking another spoonful of stew to keep yourself occupied. “Y-yeah. I ran and ran… just kept… going. They took everything, took over all of our homes…”

Joel sighs, his eyes finally going a little softer. “‘M sorry to hear that, darlin’. You know if anyone is still alive?”

You shrug. “No…”

“Your family? They with ya at this community?”

“Oh.” You shake your head. “No. They… all, uh, passed a long time ago.” Why the hell are you being so open with this stranger? You don’t owe him your story, your secrets, any of it. But you sense the urge to share it, anyhow. Maybe you’re just that desperate for human connection right now. 

“Mm, sorry to hear it again. We all know that feelin’ in a world like this,” he replies thoughtfully. Your eyes widen a bit at the softness he’s showing you right now and you give him a tight lipped smile to show your own sympathy for his losses. 

“You feel up for tellin’ me a little more about the attack? S’okay if it’s too much,” Joel adds on, still studying you with an odd gaze, almost like he’s drinking you in, quenching some thirst he had. His hand twitches, almost as if to reach out to you, but he’s much too far from where he sits right now. 

“I’m not sure if t-there’s much to tell…” you start, but then you find yourself spilling out more details, feeling the freeing sensation of unloading your burdens onto someone else. You tell Joel your community was small but well taken care of, plenty of supplies and food, in an abundant time in its history the last few months. One evening everything changed, when an armed group of mostly men came in, a few women and children in tow, looking absolutely miserable, and they aimed their guns in the air and shot off a few rounds to get everyone’s attention. People came flooding out of their homes, trying to run, only to be tackled or shot down, forced to give up our food and belongings. You tried to hide for as long as you could before slipping out of the home you shared with an older couple who had been taking care of you since you were a teenager, Harry and Josephine. They’d urged you to run, run, run, so you did. Then came your lost days, where you had no clue where you were, when you’d find your next semblance of humanity. Just trying to head west, further and further from the bitter memories you’d now have to leave behind. Barren towns and wilderness passed you over the days, hardly seeing another soul as you hid from infected, spending your nights crying yourself to sleep when you had the energy. 

And now… here you were, sitting on Joel’s couch and eating stew. Unsure of what the hell you’d do next or where you had to go. You had been an orphan for a long time, but this felt deeper, like you were an orphan to the entire world, almost, like you had nothing to even call your own now. 

Joel sits patiently, watching you stumble on words as you tell your story to him, trying not to get too choked up as all the emotions resurface. How empty things had been, how desolate the landscapes to match your faintly beating heart.

He’s leaned fully forward now in his seat, stew somewhat forgotten in his lap as you finish your recounting of the last few weeks. He breathes in and out, a large, heavy sigh that fills the room. It’s still now, fully quiet for a moment. 

“You’re a strong girl for goin’ through all of that, you know that?” he says finally, eyes softer than you’ve seen them yet. 

You just look down, returning to your stew, taking a few bites now that it’s at the perfect temperature. You’ve stopped shaking now, your body warmed up and starting to recognize that you’re getting full. You can’t eat much, your stomach unable to handle more just yet, so you push the stew away, setting it on the coffee table in front of you.

“Yeah…” you say, not really believing it as you glance out the window to watch the late afternoon sun, glaring off the ground outside, light filtering through the trees. 

“You got somewhere to go? After you’re fed and looked over, of course,” Joel asks, his eyebrow shooting up.

You consider lying, just to avoid what you’re afraid he’ll ask you. What you’re afraid you’ll say yes to. You still end up shaking your head silently, clearing your throat. You feel a sting of tears behind your eyes, your whole body going hot with the need to cry, but a deep desire to not show that weakness to him holds you back. You sniffle and blink, studying the knots in the old wood floors.

“Hey,” Joel says, trying to get your attention, to make you show him your vulnerability. “Look at me, c’mon now.” You hear him shift in his seat, a small movement born of irritation as you refuse to do as he says.

You sniffle again and clear your throat, a shake of your head making your hair fall forward, covering and hiding you further. 

“I said look at me.” That stern tone of his is back, sending a shudder through you and fear rippling deep inside your chest. You flick your red rimmed, shining eyes up to his, meeting the dark brown stare, lines permanently etched in between his eyes from all his years of worry.

“Atta girl,” he coos, completely pleasant now. “I got you, okay? You can stay, if ya need. I got food, a home, a warm bed for ya. If you have nowhere else.”

One more blink sends the tears falling down your cheeks, fat and overdue as they slide down your dirty skin, leaving tracks. You sniffle and nod, suddenly feeling a rush of gratitude towards Joel. He may be a stranger, but he fed you, got you warm, and is offering just about the kindest thing he can right now - an invasion on his space, his personal sanctuary, all for a girl he hardly even knows. 

“Y-you’d really do that?” you ask, a little incredulously, like this is a dream you’re about to wake up from any time now. 

He nods, a half smile pulling at the corner of his lips. Satisfaction plastered there now that he’s swayed you in his direction. “I would. Now I don’t wanna hear another word about it. You need to rest, you’ve been through a lot.”

“T-thank you. B-but-”

“Not. Another. Word,” he practically hisses, flashing his eyes angrily before it fizzles out quickly. You can see him practically having to reign in his impulsiveness in the moment. “There ain’t anywhere else to go that’ll keep you as safe as here, I’m tellin’ you that now. You’d be fuckin’ lost out there.” He sits back with his arms crossed now, and you’re worried that you’ve truly upset him now, that unsettling look in his eye glinting again. He wants you to stay… nearly seems to need it. It scares you, yet you feel a tug, a pull, some form of intrigue wanting you to explore that need, understand just what he could see in you.

“I’m s-sorry… I just - you’ve already done a lot for me, and I’d hate to, well, impose, or something,” you say, trying to appease him. It’s mostly true, anyhow, that you do hate to take Joel’s food and time away from him. 

He stands up and silently walks the few steps over to the couch, sitting down next to you, turning himself towards you. It feels like every muscle in your body tenses at his proximity - it makes him seem even bigger the way he takes up his cushion on the couch, body sinking in deeply, his wide shoulders practically a shield to you right now to everything behind him. Something about seeing him up this close is sending you reeling, able to study the lines in his face, his strong, wiry beard streaked with a few gray spots. You flick your eyes over his face, hoping to not be too obvious, but needing to drink him in, learn his features.

“I’m gonna have you listen to me right now, okay? Make sure you’re listenin’ real good, sweetheart.” He pauses for a moment to catch your eye, reaching a hand towards you but resting it right next to your thigh on the couch. “I’m offerin’ somethin’ mighty nice to you, ain’t I? You were ‘bout to die out there, if I’m honest. Much longer and you’d be a goner, I think. Don’t you?”

He’s waiting for a real answer from you, you realize, so you nod, eyes practically unblinking as you hang on his words, a hot coil burning in your stomach as you feel uneasiness eat at you.

“Right.” He sighs quietly. “I’m not tryin’ to be mean, sweetheart. In fact, I care a lot, that’s why I’m tellin’ the truth to ya like this. You ain’t built to be on your own, can see that clear as day. So I’ll have ya stay here and get fed and get your bearings. And I don’t want to hear anymore about it.” 

Of all the things Joel has just said to you, the thing that is stuck in your mind as you turn it over, is the way he’d said he cares. He cares about you. Would that be such a bad thing to be cared for, even if just for a little bit?

You give him a small dip of your head, a shaky smile coming to your lips. “Thank you. I’m uh, grateful.” You’re not sure what else to say, feeling like you’re signing yourself away to something you don’t feel sure about. 

“Ah look at that - a smile,” he says, clearly feeling much more light hearted now that you’ve agreed to accept his help. 

You sit back a little, your muscles finally losing some of their tension and start to eye Joel a little more curiously. “S-so you just live here all by yourself?” you ask, wishing you weren’t still such a stuttering mess. The fact was, this man made you nervous, in a way that you weren’t used to. He scared you, but in a way that it drew you in, a magnetic pull you couldn’t quite explain yet. Something in him commanded respect, reverence, almost, without trying. It was mesmerizing to witness, completely scrambling your mind if you started to think on it too hard. 

“Mhm,” Joel nods languidly, finishing off his stew and then sitting back with a satisfied sigh. He eyes your bowl that’s only half empty and then flicks them back to your face. “Ain’t gonna finish?” he asks, sounding a little irritated before his face softens. “Probably can’t fit much in your little belly right now, huh? Shrunk right up when you didn’t eat much these last few weeks.”

You nod. “I-it was good, I just… I couldn’t finish. It started to hurt…”

His eyes flash with concern. “We’ll take it slow, then,” he says, a little smile creeping onto his face.

You had noticed his avoidance to say much more about himself, so you decide to try your luck and press him again. You clear your throat, trying to turn towards him a little more as well. “You live alone. Don’t you… do you ever talk to other people?”

Joel chuckles, almost condescendingly. “‘Course I do. Town not too far from here - Jackson. I go once and a while to stock up, trade ‘em for some stuff and they’re mighty hospitable to me.”

You nod, trying not to let his snide laugh and tone get to you too much, blinking away the sensitive little tears that threaten to fall again. Joel cocks his head suddenly, seeming to notice. “T-that sounds pretty nice,” you choke out quickly.

“Sorry if I upset ya. Guess you’re right, don’t get enough practice talkin’ to people,” he says a little lighter now, smiling softly again. Joel’s version of a smile seems to only be a soft upturn of his lips, not friendly by nature. It puts you at ease and unease at the same time, that smile of his, but you’d rather see that than the scowl he was sporting at you earlier today. He pats your thigh a few times, showing his apology, and you watch his large hands move on you, noticing they’re scratched and rough. A man’s hands.

“W-wait… Jackson… this town. It’s close by?” you ask, glancing back up at him, the wheels in your head starting to turn. 

Joel’s face falls in an almost dramatic fashion, the lines between his eyes and around his cheeks getting deeper. “Why d’ya ask?” he says, his tone short and frayed sounding, leaning forward again, practically glaring at you from under his eyebrows.

Your own face falls, jaw slack for a moment before it tightens back up. “I just… I want to get out of your hair as quickly as possible, I-I don’t want to be a bother. Could find a new community there, or something…” You feel quiet as a mouse, unsure of how to assert yourself in front of Joel - it feels like there isn’t space for it when you share a room with him.

Joel’s expression becomes more stern. “Didn’t I already tell you, girl, that I’d take care of everythin’?” he spits out, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. You’re visibility tense now, your hands pressing into the cushions of the couch, ready to get up at any moment and bolt. “Y’don’t want to go to a place like that, so big, you’d be lost there, darlin’. Nobody to take care of you…”

He sits back a little, hands falling into his lap and an eyebrow cocked at you. “‘Sides,” he says, glancing out the window for a moment before studying you again. “Too far to go on your own. Can’t have you gettin’ lost in these woods again… look what happened last time, yeah?”

Maybe he’s right. You barely survived these last few weeks without completely losing your mind, and then your life, as he’s been so apt to tell you several times now. Joel… he saved you, and is offering you a place to stay, so the least you could do is be grateful for now. You could always convince him tomorrow, after you’ve had time to think and reset, to take you there, show you the way, and you can see for yourself if it’s a good fit for you or not.

“Y-yeah…” you stutter out, nodding. The look he shoots you has you choking out the next word before you can even think about it. “Yes,” you say more definitively.

“It’s settled then,” he says matter-of-factly, breathing in deeply, his burly chest rising, and then letting it out in a long, slow breath. “You probably wanna get some rest, yeah? I can set up the bed for ya.” Joel says, standing up and grabbing your bowl, taking it to the kitchen along with his empty one. 

“Do y-“ you start, standing up off the couch. 

“Yeah, I got two bedrooms, don’t worry.” His smile grows, liking that he found you predictable enough to know what you were about to ask. Your shoulders sag a little in relief and you give Joel more of a proper smile now, nodding your thanks.

“That would be great, then, yeah. And if it’s not too much…” you voice trails off and you stare at the ground, focusing your eyes on the pattern of the well worn rug underneath your feet. “Maybe a shower, bath, whatever you’ve got.”

Joel turns to face you and then walks back into the living area. He has a calm, serene expression, slightly lit up. “I’ll do ya one better. Get you some clean clothes to wear after that shower, too.”

Nothing in the entire world sounds better than what he’s offering right now.

You hiss loudly as the hot, steaming water hits your leg when you step in. Within moments, you’re basking under it, watching the dirt and dried blood from your various scrapes and scratches swirl down the drain for what feels like ages, finally seeing the water run clear as you lather up the threadbare washcloth Joel had left out for you and scrub yourself down. Every nook, every cranny, your scalp, face, everywhere you could get three times over. You can’t remember the last time you’d felt so clean, even when you’d lived back with your community. You hum happily for a few moments, letting the water soothe you for just a while longer. You hoped Joel could forgive you for taking a little bit of extra hot water today given the circumstances.

Joel hears the water running from downstairs, his fists balling up and relaxing over and over as he sits on his favorite chair, his gaze facing the stairs leading to the spare bedroom and attached bathroom. He feels tense, rolling his neck, continuing to pump his fists open and closed. A feeling in the back of his neck, traveling down his spine and legs that he couldn’t ignore - an urge. He stands up an instant later, not bothering with his well-ignored conscience, and walks upstairs and through the bedroom door with careful steps as he still has on his boots. He presses a hand onto the brass doorknob, turning it slowly, ever so slowly, pushing the door open just an inch, just… enough.

His eyes fall on the shower curtain, a white cloth that perfectly shows your silhouette through it. The valleys and curves of your body move around, arms scrubbing yourself. Joel can smell the evergreen scented soap drifting through the steamy, thick air, watching your body move fluidly as you start to hum quietly to yourself and rinse off.

He wishes he could lie to himself, deny that he felt the blood rush straight to his cock at this little show he was watching. So content, so sweet, so vulnerable right now. Need consumes his every cell - the need to show you just how good you could have it here, to take every bit of you for himself. He grins, a hungry little twitch of his mouth, moving to shut the door when a floorboard creaks under his heavy boot, and he freezes, shuffling out of the way quickly.

You’re humming quietly when you hear it, just a distant sound, but enough to catch your ear. A creak of a floorboard, something you figure isn’t unusual for an old cabin like this, but you feel a shiver run down your spine and rush to turn the water off. You throw the curtain open, water dripping down into your eyes. You quickly rub your fingers over them and glance around the spacious bathroom to find… nothing. You sigh, shaking your head, nearly laughing at the relief you feel. You’re just being paranoid, you chastise yourself as you grab the towel off the hook, squeezing the extra water out of your hair and wrapping it around yourself, snuggling into the simple comfort of a fluffy towel as you dry yourself off. 

Your fingers freeze, running cold when you reach the door, noticing a few inches of space that has the door cracked open. You swore up and down that you’d shut the door behind you, giving you that extra layer of privacy in a stranger's home. It wasn’t possible that… no, you think quickly, shaking your head again. You have to stop being so damn paranoid - your brain is just in survival mode still, looking for threats that aren’t there. 

You step into the bedroom, surveying the heavy wood furniture - an extremely cozy, country feel to the room with large logs comprising the bed frame and a patchwork quilt draped over the top. You peer around, feeling somewhat squirmy at the realization you don’t have any clothing. Joel seemingly came in and took your dirty clothes while you were in the shower, failing to leave you anything clean. It made you feel that strange swirl deep in your stomach again, the one you kept brushing off.

This is a kind man. A kind man, got it? Positive thinking.

You decide to pull it together and head out and down the stairs to the living room. You feel your cheeks heat up, a hot heat creeping all over your body as you feel so exposed, standing in your tiny towel as you descend the stairs. Joel’s eyes follow you down, watching your glowing skin, so fresh and clean, hair dripping errantly, leaving water droplets on the floor in your wake. You see a flash of something a little cloudy and hungry in his gaze before it disappears just as quickly as he showed it. 

He isn’t saying a word, isn’t offering anything, so you swallow down your discomfort and clear your throat a little. “Er… I noticed there weren’t any… clothes… for me…”

Joel sits up a little straighter, putting down the book he’s been looking at. He offers you a smile devoid of much emotion and stands up, his eyes locking on your hips for a few extra seconds. “Shucks, sorry about that, sweetheart. Let’s get you something right now. Got your old clothes ready to be done next time I do the washin’.”

You nod, fighting the urge to chuckle nervously as he walks over and passes you, his arm brushing your damp, bare one before he heads up the stairs. You’re grateful you get to trail him, afraid of just how skimpy this towel is if he’d have insisted on following behind you. You follow him into the other bedroom, his bedroom, and it’s a little more decorated, some books and little wooden carvings on the surfaces, dirty laundry scattered throughout. He opens up a drawer and tugs out a tee shirt, handing it to you, then a pair of gray sweatpants and warm, thick socks. 

“These should fit alright for ya, honey. We’ll get you some more proper fittin’ stuff soon, just gotta have a look around this place. This’ll be nice and warm for ya f’now.” He seems more chipper now, clearly much more talkative than before, and you suppose you don’t mind the change too much. It’s only proving that your paranoia was completely unfounded, just a symptom of your current circumstances. You typically find yourself a pretty trusting person, enough to have gotten you in trouble before, but the events of the last few weeks have broken that for you, leaving you feeling like a shell of who you once were. 

You snap back to reality and take the clothing in your arms, nodding in gratitude. “Thank you. I’ll go, um, change.”

Before you turn, Joel’s voice booms through the air again. “Need anythin’ else to eat? Anythin’ I can get you?” He almost sounds hopeful, like he wants you to need something from him. His eyes linger on your body, leaving you feeling just as naked as if you didn’t have the towel over you at all. 

You shake your head nervously. “Er, if it’s alright with you, I think I just want to rest… A full night’s sleep in a bed sounds like heaven right now.” 

“Let’s get you on off to heaven, then.” He grins, letting you leave the room before trailing after you, waiting outside your door while you change into your clothes. You discover some women’s underwear in the drawers inside of your bedroom, gratefully putting on a clean pair before throwing on everything Joel gave you. It’s comfortable and dry, so you won’t complain about the fit or the style - you’d still be in your dirty, worn down clothes if it weren’t for him. 

You creak the door open to find Joel and thank him again for hosting you, only to see him waiting right outside in the hall. You nearly jump, your face completely giving away your tense surprise.

“Jus’ wanted to make sure you got to bed alright,” he says gently, explaining himself. 

“Oh…” You bite your lip. “I, uh, I think I’m all set. Thank you again, Joel, really, for everything.”

His smile brightens as much as you’ve seen it and his eyes look much kinder as he nods, a dip of his head. His hand reaches forward and takes yours through the frame of the door and squeezes it. You freeze at the sudden touch, his hand so warm and rough, calloused fingertips grazing over the softer skin of your hands. It sends your entire body into a fuzzy flash of heat for just a moment before it dissipates. He squeezes once more, thumb swiping gently over the back of your hand before he releases it. Your lips sit parted in shock, eyes a little wider and hand starting to tremble a little. 

“Anytime,” Joel replies simply, his face falling before he turns to walk away, leaving you standing breathless for several moments before clicking the bedroom door shut behind you. 

You jolt out of your sleep, a gasp of breath catching in your throat and dying out as you go to yell, finding your mouth tightly clasped by a large, warm palm pressing in.

“Shh, shh,” the voice comes, right near your right ear. You shudder involuntarily from the hot breath fanning on such a sensitive spot  and try to yell again, letting it die out as a whimper against the skin pressing on your mouth.

“Shh, it’s alright. I got you,” Joel coos, his voice coming out hoarse. “No yellin’.”

You squirm helplessly against his hold, realizing another arm is draped across your abdomen, holding you in place. Your body exhausts quickly, still half asleep as you feel your struggle die out. Joel’s hand across your mouth loosens slowly, relieving the pressure.

“You were havin’ a nightmare, darlin’. Shh… c’mon now…” His hand that had been against your lips ghosts up to your head, landing in gentle strokes against your hair. You blink a few times, heavy breaths through your nostrils now as you try to steady your mind and body. Your chest struggles against his heavy arm as it heaves, your body fully taut and mind trying to play catch up.

“W-what…” you murmur groggily, laying stiffly as Joel holds your waist, fingers brushing against your curves, pressing you close as his other hand still works tender strokes along your hair.

“Oh, sweetheart, glad I heard you, hm?” he practically whispers, his face nuzzling close to the skin right under your ear. You feel the tickle of his breath and facial fair, prickly and rough against such delicate skin. You squirm gently, trying to signal that everything is too tight, too much, too… confusing. Joel is lost in his own world, absorbed in the softness of the places he begins to touch, hand grazing from your waist to your bare arms, fingertips exploring hungrily under the guise of being caring. 

All he’d needed, alone and laying awake tonight, his body burning and resolve thin, was a simple touch. A chance to show you all that you needed, all he could provide for you. Only to help you, to take care of someone who couldn’t care for herself. You’d proved that much to him - you needed his guidance, his protection, his experience.

“What’re you…”

“Jus’ comforting you, darlin’. C’mon now,” he whispers, never once pulling back or stopping the exploring he’s doing with his hands. 

He runs through his list of reasons to convince himself why everything he’s doing is perfectly necessary before losing sight of all of it entirely when he strikes that sliver of bare skin where your tee shirt has hiked up a bit off your waist, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. His hand travels a bit higher, pushing the shirt up and grazing famished fingers across your ribcage and stomach. A small groan ripples across his chest, the vibration felt by where your body meets his. He surprises you next by tugging your shirt back down, covering the bare skin before returning his hand to your hip, pulling you closer. He’s a wall of pure mass, muscle underneath his soft belly and chest, a man who’s strong but still showing a bit of his age. You nearly whimper and shake, feeling a sickly heat coursing through your veins now.

“Mmm…” he mumbles in your ear, your own voice caught in a trap of fear lodged right in your throat. Equally afraid of the way you don’t know how this night is about to end and that you’re not sure you mind where it’s going. You’ve never understood men or their intentions, and never had anyone bother to teach you, no worked up teenage boys offer to show you when you were at that age. No, you were left to guess, giggled at by other girls when you couldn’t pick up on their meanings as they discussed their own secret rendezvous. This had to be everything they talked about, didn’t it? The way you could feel heat and energy practically pulsating off of Joel’s body, his noises anything but natural sounding as he hummed little groans in your ear.

“Y’just needed someone, sweetheart. Y’need someone to take care of you, don’t you?” he finally says, fingers still running their way across your hair, nails scratching against your scalp. You whimper quietly at the feel of it, how damn good it all feels. You don’t move, don’t speak as he goes on.

“Need a man like me, darlin’, y’do. I can see it - need me to take care of everything…” He mumbles similar sentiments repeatedly in your ear before bringing his lips right to your neck, just letting them graze, the wet but chapped skin of his lips pressing in gently on your pulse point. You try not to gasp, the feeling as pleasing as it is terrifying, finding yourself gripping the sheet tighter to try not to give yourself away, give him any kind of response. 

“Don’t you, honey? Need me to take care of you?” He sounds a little more desperate now, needy for the answer he’s searching for from you.

He’s broken you down to the point you feel tears stinging at your eyes, the long awaited emotional release you’ve needed sitting right there on the precipice, a small crack waiting to fully rupture. You can’t be sure if you nod, just imperceptibly, you think, but Joel’s body language relaxes against you as he leans his entire chest and torso into you even more, giving you a squeeze. You know then that he got his answer, just what he was looking for. You let the tears slip out, rolling down your cheeks, onto the pillow on one side, likely falling right onto Joel’s face or in his hair on the other. He seems to barely notice, just swiping them quickly off your cheeks before resuming his position wrapping himself tightly around you.

“Good, sweetheart… good girl, I got you…” 

You hear his breathing start to even out shortly after, steady rise and fall of his chest against your body, and you realize he’s dozed off. Like he got what he wanted and decided he could rest now. Your entire body relaxes, a careful breath whooshing out that you hadn’t even been aware you were holding in. His hand is still tangled in your hair, other one possessively on your hip, giving you absolutely no room to move. You’re not sure you want to anymore, anyways, never having had such strength covering you, cloaking you from all of the dark, sinister things that the nighttime holds for you.

If you’re going insane, feeling safe with this man who forced his way around your body tonight, then so be it. Why shouldn’t you let yourself feel safe for once? Let yourself feel less of that burden, turn it over to Joel? Your own turning wheel of thoughts starts to scare you, the little voice in the back of your head telling you what you already know and have been trying to ignore. The one little thing that you immediately put your finger on but were too scared afterwards to lift it back up and observe it closer.

You weren’t having a nightmare, no, not at all. You knew when you woke from one, as sure as the god damned sky was blue and the grass was green. It wasn’t a foreign concept to you by any means after what you’d been through in your life. And tonight… tonight hadn’t been one of those nights. 

dividers by @/saradika!

thank you @jupiter-soups and @huffle-punk for always beta-ing my shit and talking inspo with me. love you to the moon and back &lt;3

smother - part ii: resistance

dark!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: joel knows how to break you just right, to get you feeling helpless enough to accept what he believes you need. somewhere deep inside of you, you think you might like it. 10.9k words (sorry) chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI! noncon, nonconsensual touching, dubcon - reader eventually enthusiastically consents but the syndrome is stockholming so its dubcon, reader is a virgin, big juicy age gap (reader is 19, joel is 55) masturbation (m), nipple play/groping, manipulation, joel def has a corruption kink, joel gets a bit violent in this chapter, y'all get a lot of touching and (kissing), if these darker tags aren't your cup of tea please keep scrolling! a/n: okay i'm even more nervous about this chapter than the first, idk how it got so long but i really hope its tense and enticing for you all! i love writing dark joel, this has been such a thrill so far tbh! get buckled in for heavy duty smut next chapter too ✌️

Light spills in around the thick, heavy curtains, drawn tightly shut. Just a glowing sliver on the edges and underneath, telling you it’s at least well into the morning, that you’ve been asleep for longer than you’d expected to. Your brain is a scrambled, hazy mess from the way you’d finally been able to pass out, still encumbered by Joel’s grasp holding you down. After a while his heaviness had a calming effect, the opposite of what you’d ever thought would happen when he first came into your bed last night. But now, he was nowhere to be found, the other side of your bed cold and empty, such a stark difference that you start to wonder if maybe you’d imagined it, dreamed it all last night. 

You get up to let some light from the day in, your eyes burning as they adjust and you see that it looks to be late afternoon already. How many hours had you been out for? 

Recollections of the night before flood your brain - Joel’s warmth pressed so close to you, his hard body molding softly into yours like he knew how to keep you safe, take care of you, just like he’d said. Yet there’s still an unease surrounding the thoughts, that he’d made the decision for you, came into your bed and lied. It sends a shiver up your spine, half thrill and half fear as you contemplate what you should do next. Maybe plotting a way to Jackson is the right move, but something about Joel was keeping you here, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on yet. It was more of a feeling, something indescribable that came over you when thinking about him. 

Could he really save you, like he said? Or was he just a sick old man with a fantasy? One he’d fulfill before tossing you out just as easily as he’d taken you in.

You sigh heavily and sit on the edge of the bed for a few moments, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. You finally decide you have to leave this bedroom sometime and face Joel again to see if those same confusing feelings from last night persist, or even to clear the air between you two. You freshen up a bit with a toothbrush and homemade toothpaste that Joel had left out for you before fixing your hair to an acceptable enough level. You creep out of the bedroom, soft and quiet movements with socks padding your feet as you listen to hear what Joel is up to downstairs. No sounds of cookware or silverware clinking on plates, no rustling on the pages of a book, no distant sound of him chopping wood outside again. Until you do hear something. 

A sound almost in between a whimper and a groan, and it’s right there, the door diagonally down the hall from yours. You freeze, brows knit together as you wait to try to hear it again. The next time you hear it, it’s more urgent, more gruff, a loud exhale. Was it a pained sound? You couldn’t quite tell as you walked closer, noticing the light spilling from a crack in Joel’s door out into the dim, windowless hallway. 

One peek through the opening in his door has your eyes widening. A gasp sticks itself in your throat but you clap your hand over your mouth when you take in the sight before you. Shit…

All your eyes immediately focus on is Joel’s cock, heavy and thick, hanging out of his pants in a tight grasp in his hand. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, practically in perfect view through this open sliver in the doorway. His eyes are closed, lost in the moment as he grunts a little bit more. You avert your eyes almost immediately, standing frozen with your cheeks burning. You’re not completely unaware, and you do have an idea of what he’s doing. You can’t help but flick your eyes back to him as another strained exhale leaves his lips, your eyes drifting down to where he’s sliding his hand in quick jerks. His cock is pink and slick as he runs his hand along it, and you start to tune into the lewd, sloppy sounds that it's all making as flesh hits flesh over and over again. You squirm in place, feeling your knees go a bit weak before you finally notice it. 

Your underwear. 

It feels like something screeches to a halt inside of you, everything moving in slower motion for a few seconds as this information sinks in. Joel’s face, turning more red and eyes rolling back as he pumps his cock with your underwear from yesterday in his other hand, a fist tightly wrapped around the material. You shudder, but find the little zing traveling further to a spot right between your legs, making you clench your thighs together tighter.

It’s all so… so… a feeling you can’t quite explain that starts to make your skin hot, and a scene you don’t know if you want to stop watching. You are just curious after all, you lie to yourself in those few seconds of continued peeking on Joel’s private moment.

You sense a difference in his movements, flashing your sight up to his face where his eyes are open now, gaze locked on yours, heavy lidded as a smile plays on his lips. He doesn’t stop, though, like you thought he would, and it practically steals the breath from your lungs. 

“Oh… sh- sorry,” you blurt out, panicky and quiet before you can think about it, covering your eyes with your palm and hastily pulling the door shut. 

Joel can’t stop smiling, a wry, devilish thing as he continues in fast, long strokes on his cock. You knowing exactly what he’s doing in here is only urging him on even more, the look in your eyes as he’d caught your stare on his glistening, ruddy cock making him harder. 

His smile grows when he realizes you haven’t stopped enjoying the show, not at all, despite your appearances of shutting the door behind you. What he realizes you don’t know, is that he can see the shadow of your feet underneath the door, tiny, anxious movements that catch the light and cast shadows. 

If you want to listen, he’s surely not going to disappoint you, another little groan slipping past his lips and he tightens his grip and speeds up, picturing you in his mind. He can practically see it now, one of your perfect little hands clasped over your mouth outside his door, trying not to make a peep, your body rigid as you lean closer to listen. Those perfect little hands that should never have to lift a finger, should always be taken care of. A pulse of pleasure wracks his body at the thought of him being the one to do that for you. 

“Fuck,” he whispers hoarsely. “Fuuuuck…”

A few more swift tugs on his length and he’s stuffing your underwear right at the head of his cock, thrusting once and cumming hard into the fabric with a loud moan, the only thing on his mind the mental image of you in nothing but these. 

He’s not too weak to admit he’s already completely addicted to you. Your pretty face, the way you’d finally given him those few little smiles yesterday. How you fit so wonderfully in his arms last night once you’d decided that you needed him. Joel knows he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you as his, to make sure you understand just what you need, how you need him. He sighs as he leans back a moment, then stares down at your underwear, his creamy release staining it now looking like one of the most beautiful sights. To paint you with it himself would nearly kill him, send him into a point of no turning back. No, there’s no doubt now that he’s addicted to this… And god help anyone who tries to take it from him, even you.

The moment you hear Joel’s longer, drawn out groan you scurry away, light as can be on your feet and tiptoe down the stairs in a hurry. The mortification you’d feel if he opened the door to you standing there listening in is more than you can bear. You wish you hadn't been curious, hadn’t wanted to stop and stare just to watch just a bit longer. It wasn’t your fault that you felt completely embarrassingly lost when it came to… sex, but you know it was wrong to invade Joel’s privacy like that. He had left the door cracked, hadn’t he, though? Your brain devours the information, barely able to latch onto that train of thought before the next one comes barreling in. 

You pace back and forth in the kitchen, hands wrung anxiously over and over again in front of you. You gaze at the staircase practically every millisecond, waiting for Joel to come down, wondering if he will. You two have to confront this, right? He knows what you saw, and you certainly know what you saw, the image burned into your mind now. All the details seem hazy in your panic, but all you can think about is your underwear in his hands, and how your current pair feel damp now against your own will. You’d felt this before - attraction and arousal - but not like this. You had been so close to everything this time, not just hearing stories or thinking about kissing a boy you thought was good looking. This was a full fledged man, pleasuring himself right in the next room to you. It makes you break out in a sweat, your body hot and breathing shallow as the floorboards creak under your rushing movements. 

You sigh and continue pacing for another moment before trying to make yourself busy by putting on the kettle, maybe to make some tea, something to calm your frayed nerves. If Joel didn’t wind up kicking you straight back out into the wilderness after that debacle, you’d be surprised. Maybe you should think about kicking yourself out to avoid any of this awkwardness. You make a split second decision to grab your things and go, your first steps out of the kitchen interrupted by heavy footfall upstairs, lazily making its way down to you.

You stand frozen, your plan quickly forgotten when you see Joel, moving with confidence, his steps nonchalant and unhurried as he approaches with a satisfied look on his face. Not angry, not embarrassed, just a casual, almost smug look plastered on his features. You look at a spot past him before dipping your eyes to the floor, your face already heated and flushed. He’s wearing jeans again but this time with a plain, moss green henley shirt rolled halfway up his forearms. Another shirt showing off his strong, muscular form, and it’s killing you inside, especially now that you’ve seen just that much more of him. 

“Sit,” he says plainly, finishing his walk to the kitchen table where he pulls out a chair, settling himself down. When you dare to glance in his direction, he’s giving you a look that sends a shudder up your spine, already knowing he’s about to ask much less nicely if you don’t heed his words. Your shaky hand pulls out a chair, perching yourself on the edge, hands holding on to one another for dear life in your lap. You feel like a child about to be scolded for doing something naughty, and you suppose in many ways that’s exactly what’s happening right now. 

“J-“ you start, with Joel cutting you off before you can even get a syllable out. 

“You enjoy listenin’ to that little show? Gettin’ a little peek?” Joel asks smoothly, a hint of irritation but also gratification in his tone. He leans forward onto the table with his forearms pressed against the wood. 

“N-no I didn’t… I mean I didn’t see much. I didn’t hear… I swear. I’m really sorry, that just made things so… uncomfortable…” you ramble on, feeling like a bumbling idiot as you’re sure your body is about to catch fire. 

“Did it?” Joel asks, eyebrow lifted in casual questioning. It makes you stop, your lips sitting parted with words you can’t express, clouded by confusion. 

“Well… didn’t it? I’m - I don’t know what’s… normal… That didn’t feel…” Your eyes search his face wildly, and you know he can see you, trembling like a fawn stood in the clearing of a forest just before it bolts. 

Joel sighs out a long exhale. “Seems like you enjoyed it, standin’ outside my door.” He states it as a fact, not a guess, and your stomach twists as it sinks. How he knows is beyond you, and you can only sit in your shame now, eyes fixed downwards on the table. You’ve never found knots in wood so interesting before as you stay transfixed by the glossy surface.

“Nothin’ to be ashamed of. Just curious, weren’t ya?” he says, his voice rumbling softly. His hand inches towards you across the table and you finally get the nerve to look up at his eyes. They’ve gone gentler, full of understanding. You’re sure your expression gives everything away, your shock, your intrigue at what you’d witnessed. “Weren’t you?” he asks again, and you finally give him a little nod.

His lips twitch upwards in a wry grin just as the kettle starts to whistle, the sound ramping up rapidly into the silent room. You both stare at each other for a few moments, still processing your answer to him. The screeching reaches a fever pitch, making your skin start to crawl, so you push your chair out in a hurry to grab it off the stove. Joel’s hand shoots out, his large hand snatching your thigh, fingers wrapping around and digging into the flesh through your sweatpants. You halt, your ass plopping right back into the chair as Joel stares at you through narrowed eyes.

“I’ve got it,” he says sternly. He waits a moment longer, making sure you’re fully seated and about to heed his words before standing up. The kettle is at a deafening scream, but Joel seems in no hurry, sauntering over to the stove. You breathe out a sigh of relief as the sound tapers off, Joel setting the kettle to the side while he busies himself with reaching up to some open shelving along the wall where you see several jars full of different types of tea leaves. He’s silent, moving slowly, as if to make you sweat it out, and you admit that his plan is working. You don’t know the last time you felt such an odd, burning fear inside of you. Different than facing infected, than being so hungry without knowing where your next meal is coming from. It’s primal, deep down inside of you, meek little claws in a vice grip at the core of you, a burning that travels downward repeatedly, right between your legs. You notice you’ve started trembling without even realizing it.

He brings a steaming mug over, setting it on the table in front of you. It smells mainly of chamomile, maybe some lavender - you see Joel read your mind on wanting something for your nerves. Instead of retaking his seat across from you, he walks around the table, doing a slow, deliberate lap. His feet, although shoe-less, make an impact along the floor, and you feel like each one sounds like a drum along with the way your heart is beating in your ears. He circles back and pauses behind your chair, sliding his forearm across your chest, tucking it close to your neck.

You really were trapped now. Not just by your own mental doing, unable to make yourself leave at the first sign of trouble with this man for god knows what reason, but truly, physically ensnared by his embrace. His arm wraps tighter across the top of your chest, his hand squeezing on the shoulder where it snakes around.

“Tell me…” he leans closer, lips coming to your ear, a hint of a smirk in his tone although you can’t see his face now. “That the first cock you ever seen? Or just the first time you seen one like mine?” 

Your head swims, unsure of how to answer. He has you trapped with this question, either answer damning to you. You sputter and scoff out a chuckle, shaking your head. 

“No, you say? Which one, honey, c’mon it’s a simple question.” His arm tightens, fingers digging in along your shoulder. “No judgement here, just a curious man, thas’ all.” He says the words as if he’s expectant of a certain answer for you, following a hunch and looking to confirm it for himself. He knows, he knows, he knows. He knows you so effortlessly, reads your mind like it’s the simplest thing in the world. You worry he sees right through you right down to your debased thoughts, the ones where you give in to him and these foreign feelings you want to chase.

You shake your head again. “I haven’t…” Your cheeks burn with the confession, hoping he won’t make you actually say the words. You struggle uncomfortably in his grip, his scent invading your senses now as well, mint and leftover coffee from this morning and your stomach burns so hot you think you might be sick now. He responds with a tighter grasp, his arm starting to press a bit on your windpipe.

Joel blows out a breath, the sound nearly grating next to your ear. “Never seen a cock before till today? Till you saw mine the way you did? That so, darlin’?” He sounds amazed, excitement creeping into his voice. 

You swallow hard, fighting back tears, but you nod for him. “Y-yes…” you admit with a shaky voice, willing yourself not to cry again in front of Joel. 

“Oh, hey, hey, that’s okay. Must be an awful lot to see it jus’ like that, no context for any of it…” he murmurs, his voice oozing a sick sympathy as you sense his excitement building. “Shouldn’t have had to see it as a surprise. If it were up to me, darlin’, I’d have made sure it was perfect. Y’would’ve been amazed by the things a cock like mine can do for ya.”

He tuts quietly, his lips grazing along the shell of your ear. You squirm a little, your breathing picking up as you strain against him. You remember how much you’d liked his lips right under your ear last night, how badly you’d wanted to hate it, but here you were yet again, enjoying it. 

“Now I’m gonna ask you somethin’, honey, and I want you to be honest with me, mkay?” Joel says. Your options feel limited so you motion with a nod for him to go on, his arm digging into your throat further when your head bobs down.

“Be honest, now, remember.” He squeezes your shoulder hard. “How old are ya, honey?” His lips graze your ear again and your legs tense, thighs pressing together. You nearly have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop the little moan that wants to slip out of you. 

You chew your lip, telling him the truth before you can even think about it too hard. “I’m nineteen.” You don’t know why you tell him the truth, why you give him any part of you, but you do. 

“Hmm,” he murmurs in a low little groan. His fingers brush along your shoulder, across your chest a bit, loosening his tight grip. “Thank you for tellin’ me the truth, sweetheart. I appreciate that.”

“H-how old are you?” you ask in return, getting a haughty chuckle from Joel. 

“Older’n you,” he says simply, a little growl caught in the back of his throat as his nose buries itself in your hair, taking in a deep breath.  

“B-but I told you…” you whimper a little as he tightens his hold again, leaning further to press his head into your shoulder and neck. 

“Why d’ya wanna know? Wonderin’ why an old man like me is gettin’ your panties wet?” he asks, amused at your expense, knocking you down just one more peg. 

You blink hard and feel yourself flushing again, warmth radiating throughout your body all the way down to your fingertips. You’re angry that he seems to know every damn thing about you, and you feel like you know nothing about what he’s thinking. “I don’t understand… any of it. Why -“

“It’s all natural, sweetheart. Happens when you find yourself likin’ what I’m doin’,” Joel tells you, voice starting to sweeten like honey. His hand strokes your hair, smoothing the sides. 

“I know…” you bite back, only to feel Joel move his forearm closer to your neck. Your breath hitches. “I just mean… I - I want to know how old you are.”

“You persistent little thing…” He smirks again, looking impressed by you. “I’m in my fifties, that’s all y’need to know.” He pauses for a brief second, not wasting a second to keep contact with your skin, his calloused fingertips stroking along the hollow of your neck. They trickle down, gentle and fluid as water as he ghosts along your chest and over your stomach. You shudder and try to keep your eyes open, succumbing to the pleasure of it all - nobody has ever touched you like this, taken their time to feel you out and seem interested in every part of you. It’s a slow, tortuous movement while his arms reach down over you, thick muscles on display, until his fingertips brush along your waistband. They trace back and forth along the crimped edges of the band, tied tightly. He plays with the strings, a clear contemplation to untie them any second. It makes you start to tremble even more, the way you feel powerless and know you couldn’t stop him even if you wanted to.

Joel abruptly stops, pulling his arms back before he starts to walk around the chair, standing in front of you now. He doesn’t crouch to your height, standing tall and proud as he towers over where you sit. His fingers reach forward slowly and gently, thumb and forefinger taking your chin delicately, holding it like something he might break. You can finally see his expression, look into his eyes, and they’re a dark abyss full of mystery and that hungry look he’d flashed at you a few times yesterday. 

“Get the sense you’re feelin’ a bit scared right now, hm?” he suddenly asks.

You swallow and then nod for him, eyes barely blinking as you try to keep track of every single movement he makes. His grip on your chin flashes tighter for just a moment before he lets it go, leaving a little red mark in his wake.

“Good girl.”

Your stomach turns as you realize he wants this, wants your fear to permeate the room so he can devour it, to know that he has this hold on you. Joel leans forward, one hand planted on the table next to you, the other coming down to rest on your thigh. He’s tender in his touch, letting his hand soothingly find its way up your leg.

Joel’s eyes bore into you, trying to capture your attention and hold it, but you can barely summon the courage to look into those dark pools, worried they’ll draw you in forever. Instead, you squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on your shaky inhales and exhales as Joel’s hand rubs your thigh.

“Don’t you like it, sweetheart? Feels good to be touched here, doesn’t it?” You don’t answer him, eyes squeezed shut even tighter, a quiver starting on your lips. You try to ignore the way your body responds to the touch, skin blazing right where he’s touching and that pooling of heat starting between your legs.

“Now c’mon, open your eyes f’me. I want to take care of you, honey. Jus’ like we agreed to last night. You need me to take care of everythin’ for ya, never make you have to worry or lift a pretty little finger again. I can show you everything.” Joel pauses, waiting to see if you’ll heed his command. His hand wraps a little tighter around your thigh, fingers squeezing.

“I said… look at me. Open your eyes. Nothin’ to be afraid of.” His voice has a shake to it from trying to keep it even amongst his building frustration, his desire to have you under his thumb already. You finally brave it, your eyes opening slowly to find a softer smile playing on Joel’s lips as his face comes into focus, just a few inches from yours now.

“I want you all to myself… d’you understand what I’m sayin’?”

You nod. His smile grows, much more foreboding now.

“That’s a good girl,” he says, fingers squeezing your thigh again, brushing his thumb along the inner part, sending a set of sparks hurtling up your spine. “And you’ll stay? Won’t try to get away from me, will you?” he asks, a wicked raise of his eyebrow telling you there’s only one correct answer here.

Your face falls a little bit. “Wh- what would you do if did?” you dare to ask.

He laughs, a mirthless chuckle before he can even stop himself. “Oh, honey, what’re you gonna do? Where’ll you go? You wouldn’t get barely ten steps outside this door ‘fore I got to ya.” His eyes pierce yours before studying your face for a few moments, challenging you. “Best that you don’t even try, yeah?”

You don’t reply, hoping that the fear in your eyes and trembling lips are answer enough for him.

“Come and sit w’me, how about that? I’ve got a few more questions for you.” Joel offers you his hand and you pause, eyes fixed on his tan, rough skin - hands that have worked hard for an entire lifetime. He takes the initiative to grasp your hand instead, giving you a quick tug that has you standing up to start following him. He completely dwarfs you in every way, his hand practically enveloping your entire fist as he pulls you along towards the couch.

You don’t know what otherworldly urge possesses you so suddenly, but you glance over towards the door, then back at Joel before you muster up everything you have and shove him square in the back, yanking your captured hand back in the process. He stumbles forward, your hand slipping from his and you quickly gain your balance and bolt. You reach the front door, fumbling with the lock and knob as you hear Joel grunt loudly behind you. 

“Don’t you understand? There’s nowhere to go, sweetheart,” he calls after you angrily. You don’t dare turn around as you fling the door open with a strength you didn’t even know you possessed, feet moving of their own accord as you sprint down the stairs and towards the oncoming woods. You can hear Joel’s huffs behind you, both of your shoe-less feet pounding on the frozen earth. It hurts, the cold ground combined with all types of brush and wood littering the forest floor that are now jabbing into your feet with every step. This was stupid, this was a mistake, you’re going to die out here if he doesn’t do it first.

“God… damn… it…” you hear Joel pant behind you, knowing he’s close, that it’s almost over now. You’re weak and frail still, much too slow to outrun a towering powerhouse like Joel. He was right - there’s no fighting it, no escape from here unless he allows it. Maybe it won’t be so bad… maybe you do enjoy the way he speaks to you, the way he’s been touching you… maybe it’ll all be just what you’ve needed. You’ve always wanted more than what you had, wishing for someone to care just a little more, to have a family again.

You lose yourself to an almost transcendent train of thought, letting it wash over you. As if the universe was trying to tell you the right decision, you feel your foot collide with something sharp and you stumble, a sure way to get you back into Joel’s arms. He catches you as you go down, upper arm squeezed into his grasp as his other wraps around and yanks you by the front of your collar, tearing your shirt all the way down to the middle of your chest as he tugs. You’re pulled into his chest with a hard thud before you both go down with the momentum of it all, his body landing on top of yours on the hard, frozen earth.

“God damn it, girl, what the hell you think you’re doin’, huh?” Joel huffs out, arms pinning you down by the wrists as he breathes heavily right in your face. You grunt and struggle, squirming against the ground, but it only serves to help Joel push you into the frosty dirt even harder, his own grunts slipping out of his lips. 

“Like it when you struggle…” he says closer to your ear, leaning down. His lips turn into a chilling leer as he bares his teeth down at you. “But too bad we can't play a little longer, you’ll freeze out here. Get up,” he demands, pulling back and then fluidly plucking your body up off the ground as he stands. He hooks one of his arms through yours and begins drags you, your feet scrambling to keep up with how quickly he’s moving. 

You’d barely gotten far, just like he said you would - it’s only a short distance back to the cabin where he slams you against the wall, clutching one hand around your throat, not hard enough to put much pressure, just to show you he could, if he really wanted to. His body crowds closer as your back presses against the hard, unrelenting wooden logs adorning the outer frame of the cabin. The chill of the air settles in and you shiver, feet throbbing and chest prickling with goosebumps from the frozen air entering your lungs in large heaves. 

“Told ya, girl. You don’t need to go anywhere. All y’need is right here. I can do anythin’ I want with ya, can’t I?” He spits his words out angrily, eyes blazing. His head is cocked, looking down on you with scornful, yet hopeful eyes. His gaze travels to your chest, the way your shirt is torn to almost reveal everything there, eyes flickering hotly on the sight. Both of you stand with huffing breaths, chests heaving and letting out little cloudy puffs of air as your exhales hit the air. 

You nod, whimpering as his grip gets slightly tighter around your throat when you don’t answer right away. Your entire body trembles against him, afraid you’ll collapse any second as your knees buckle. His entire frame is pressed against you, keeping you upright, the warmth of him the only thing keeping you grounded and afloat right now.

“Thas’ right, it’s just me ‘n you out here. I’ll take real good care of ya, never let anyone hurt ya again. Ever.” A hand snakes around to your hair, smoothing it as he pulls your head off the wall, tracing his palm down as he pets you. “Now c’mon.” He yanks your entire body by the waist, holding you close as he hauls you back inside, pulling the door shut behind you two and locking it.

Joel brings you to his original destination before you’d run - the couch - and sits back, pulling you down with him, maneuvering you to settle on his lap so that you’re straddling him. His hands wrap around your back in a possessive, tight hold. You squirm a little bit, the feeling of him enveloping you like this making you hot, a sheen of sweat breaking out over your entire body.

“S-stop…” you mumble as you continue to struggle, his hands only seeming to get stronger the more effort you put in. You start to shove and push at his chest and one of his arms comes from around your back to catch your wrists in one fell swoop, pinning them against his chest. 

“Better knock that shit off quick,” he commands, grunting as he continues to hold your squirming body. “You got me offerin’ you everything I know you want, and all I ask is you do what I want, sweet girl. Be here w’me.” His tone is somehow cruel and hard but soft and caring at once, like he really believes that he needs to act this way to care for you right now.

“N-no, you’re hurting me,” you cry out. “You said you wouldn’t let anyone hurt me…” You think that maybe your reasoning will have any kind of effect on him, and he only smiles softly. It disarms you a little, your struggle starting to die out as you look at the hidden anger behind the smile, the desire to let out the hidden beast within him. 

“Let’s get one thing clear,” he says, letting go of your wrists to grip your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, squishing them together. Your hands fall limply to your sides, skin burning on your cheeks where he’s pressing in harder. “Only I can make you feel pain. Nobody else. Nobody’s gonna hurt you when I’m around. And I’m the only one who can make y’feel good too, understand? But if you’re not gonna be a good girl ‘n pull this shit, I can’t help what I’ve gotta do to get you back to bein’ good, hm?” His eyes track across your face, awaiting a response. 

You shake your head in small movements, squeezing your eyes shut and squirming one final time to try to slide off his lap. He sees your desperate eyes and his blood rushes a little hotter through him, tugging you harshly to situate you back perfectly centered on his lap.

“Please…” you whimper quietly, unsure of what you’re asking for now. To be let go? To be held tighter? For someone to just make it all okay?

Joel drops your cheeks from his tight grip and looks at you a little more sympathetically. “Okay, okay, c’mon, no more strugglin’ sweet girl. I’ve got you. Not gonna hurt ya. I just wanna help ya.” 

He leans forward and his lips find your neck, peppering wet, urgent kisses from just underneath your chin all the way down to your collarbone. It’s all too much, the emotions bubbling up as the adrenaline leaves your body. You shake a little, feeling the now all too familiar sting of tears behind your eyes that quickly manifest as tears that roll down your cheeks. Joel must sense a heave in your chest as you try to hold back your sob because he pulls his lips off of you and looks up to see your eyes shining as tears start to fall at a more rapid pace. 

“Shh, shh,” he coos. Both of his arms wrap around your back and pull you in so that your chest is flush with his. Your head drops instinctively to his body and you find yourself wrapping your arms tightly around his neck before burying your face in his chest. 

“Oh, c’mere, sweetheart. Let it all out… shh…” Joel says quietly, his palms splayed along your back, rubbing up and down in a soothing pattern. You finally break completely, finally let yourself sob. Your entire body is wracked with shaking heaves of breath each time you start another wave of tears. You bury yourself deeper into Joel’s chest, your face burning red hot with embarrassment, but unable to stop nonetheless. He’s warm and soft against you, the comforting fabric of his shirt soaking up the tears you pour out. 

Joel continues his soothing ministrations, his hands uncharacteristically kind and sweet, holding the back of your head against him now, like he’s encouraging this, even, this release of emotion from you. It makes you sob even harder to realize the only person you have in this world to comfort you is a man you met yesterday, one who hasn’t shown you a consistent side to himself since then. You don’t know how long you cry for, the last two weeks of pure desperation and the flood of emotions since meeting Joel have all collided into this one meltdown, Joel’s chest taking the brunt of it as you continue sobbing.

“Oh, that’s it, there we go…” he hums calmly, his chin resting on the top of your head as he keeps stroking along your back. You finally start to let up, choking back little sobs as they climb their way up your throat. 

“Jus’ breathe… there ya go, honey. Take some deep breaths for me now, okay?” Joel says calmly, continuing to chant little encouragements in your ear. You turn your face to lay the side of your cheek along Joel’s chest for a moment, a few remaining hiccups shaking your body as you sniffle. Your entire face feels puffy, like everything is two sizes too big for you now, cheeks wet and sticky as your tears start to dry. You slowly lift your head up and Joel quickly catches your face between his hands, thumbs going to work wiping your tears.

“Beautiful…” he murmurs as his eyes scan your flushed, glowing face. His lips turn into a gentle, small smile while he continues to wipe down your cheeks for a moment longer. “Now don’t that feel better?” Joel looks at you with concern now, his head tilting as his fingers continue to stroke along your face. You look so broken and fragile right now - the thought exciting him, sending a twitch beneath his jeans that he doesn't even have the mind to be ashamed of. You're close... so close to being his.

“I g-guess…” you murmur, unable to say if it really does feel much better. You feel lighter now, unburdened of the pent up emotions that had been weighing you down the last few weeks, but you still had to grapple with the fact that you were here now, with a dangerous man who seemed intent on keeping you here no matter what.

“Listen, darlin’...” Joel starts, a heavy sigh escaping him. “You’re too sweet for this world, you deserve to be protected… That’s all I’m tryin’ to say here, to do here. You wanna know what I thought when I first saw ya?”

Your eyes widen in curiosity, letting him go on.

“Thought that the universe sent me a gift. One look at ya and I knew you had to be all mine. Like y’were made for me, I swear it…” he gushes before his eyes go more serious. “I can show you how good it all feels, sweetheart, d’you understand?”

You shake your head slowly. “S-show me how good what feels?” you ask tentatively.

Joel leans forward, his lips brushing along your jawline then ghosting to that sensitive spot under your ear. His breath tickles you in just the right way and you shudder, hating that he seems to have pinpointed your weakness.

“Show you… just how good it feels… to submit to me.” His lips press onto your neck gently, his tongue poking out to taste the salt of your skin. “Show you what your place is here.” He sucks a little harder on your neck, eliciting a tiny sound from the back of your throat. “I’ll give you everything, you’ll see. I can see you want it, sweet girl. I can see how badly you need it.” His hips thrust upwards into yours on his last words, grinding against you slightly. Your eyes flutter shut when his lips kiss your neck again, rough but gentle, as Joel always seems to be. You squirm, your body and mind still mixing signals with each other, unsure if you’re fleeing or giving in. 

You consider his words heavily, the weight of them pressing down on your chest, nearly choking you. It makes your entire body tingle, the way he’d said the word submit, not even fully understanding all of what that would entail. But he’s right, you do need someone, you need something in your life that won’t fail you or run or disappear. You’re desperate for it at this point, needing it like you need air and water. You’ve seen nothing but loss and sadness and lived with a desperation to just be loved and cared for in the deepest ways. 

Maybe it was fate, like he said. Maybe you were meant to stumble into that clearing just at the right time, just when you so fiercely needed everything he’s offering to you. 

He pulls back and stares into your eyes, trying to read the look behind them, trying to gauge how you’ll respond as you sit silently. You feel tears building on the rims of your eyes again, quickly wiping them away before they can fall. 

“Let me show you, hm? How I’ll take care of you.” He thumbs your chin as he stares at you, a look of wonder in his eyes. “We need to get some more food in you, darlin’. Barely ate a thing yesterday.” His bargains immediately begin to work as you notice your stomach rumbling and empty again as if on cue. You nod slightly and he gives you a half smile.

“That’s a good girl,” he coos. “Now hold on tight.” Before you can question him further on why, he’s lifting you up off the couch, and your arms scramble to fling around his neck so you don’t fall backwards. Your legs wrap around his middle for extra support as he carries you to the kitchen table, settling you down on top of it now, legs dangling off the side as he lets go of his grip under your thighs. You find yourself reluctant to untangle your arms and legs from his warm, safe body, but he begins to pull away, heading for the fridge. You watch him with a frown as he bends down, shuffling a bit in the fridge before pulling out an item wrapped in a thin cloth. He opens a breadbox on the counter and reaches in, tearing off a chunk of bread before plating it and unwrapping the block, revealing some type of cheese.

“Sheeps cheese from Jackson. And some bread I made. Should tide y’over till dinner time, don’t you think?” he asks, bringing the plate over. He nudges your legs apart with his knee, a silent command that you follow mindlessly before he steps in between your thighs. One hand brushes along your thigh as he gets closer to you, eyes pasted right onto yours. His near glare is nearly too much to keep focused on as he grabs the piece of bread and brings it up to your lips. You pause, gaze faltering as you scan his face, a little stunned.

“Y’need some food, darlin’. Now eat.” Another command, another test to see how pliant you are, how willing you are to accept the entire package he offered you. You crane your neck forward enough to bite down on the piece, tearing some off as he holds it for you, never breaking eye contact with him. His eyes quickly flash back to a satisfied, pleasant look from the darkness that had threatened them moments ago.

“Good girl.” The words burrow in a little more, your thighs tightening against his, sending Joel gazing down with a smirk pulling at his lips. “Another,” he says quietly, holding the bread up to your lips again. You don’t falter this time, taking a quick bite and chewing as Joel smiles down at you, letting his thumb brush across your lips.

“You’re bein’ so good f’me now, what happened?” he says smugly, picking up the cheese and feeding you again. Each time he does it, you take the food more eagerly, Joel stepping closer until he’s pressed against the table, his hips as close as they can be to the apex of your thighs. You can sense the excitement radiating off of him now, the pure satisfaction that you’re not putting up a fight, accepting the care he’s pouring out onto you.

“Now you see how I can take care of you, darlin’? That’s just a small thing, honey, makin’ sure you get fed. Now tell me how much you appreciate it, hm?”

You feel your cheeks warming up at the blatant coaxing from Joel, the way the heat of his body presses so close to you now as his finger lingers on your lip after the last scrap of bread goes in.

“T-thank you, Joel,” you say, quiet and mousy as you avert your eyes downward.

“Oh, such a good girl.” He pets the top of your head down the side, stroking a gentle, long path down to your shoulder. “Feel better now that we got you full?”

You nod, swallowing hard. “Y-yes, thank you.” Mousy. Quiet. The way Joel seems to like, the way that you can’t help but be when he questions you like this, when his eyes search your depths so intensely. Your heart clenches at just how quickly he’s already worked his way in, has you saying just what you know he wants to hear. 

“Not bad for an old man baking bread, huh?” he asks, winking as he caresses your cheek. You tilt your head down, failing to conceal your little smile in time as a breathy chuckle makes its way out of you. You can sense the lightness fill Joel and the entire room as he notices, cocking his head and leaning closer to you.

“That a smile I see, darlin’? You think it’s funny to call me an old man?”

You shake your head, pulling your lips tight to suppress your smile. “N-no, you’re n-not…” 

“Oh, too sweet, ain’t you.” He wraps his arms around your middle, drawing you close again. “Y’know, you’re so pretty when you smile. This old man’d like to see more of that, y’know.”

Your smile falls quickly as discomfort settles in again at the way he’d cracked through your façade just now.  “Why haven’t you just… hurt me yet? Or done what you want with me and tossed me out?” you ask suddenly, blurting the words out before you can think twice about the possible consequences. 

Joel clicks his tongue and lets his lips part slightly, showing his surprise - a rare moment from such a guarded man. 

“That what you think this is?” he asks quietly, forebodingly. The pure control in his voice is a skill that you can tell he’s exercised many times. “Just want to squeeze the life outta you and toss your body out for the damn animals? Or fuck you senseless then turn you to the cold? You really think that little of me after I fed you, clothed you, helped you?”

He doesn’t sound quite angry, but something deeper that takes a minute for you to register - you’ve hurt him. Wounded his ego, made a dent in this brick wall of a man. A power you suddenly wish you didn't have over him.

“I don’t… I don’t know…” you admit. “You scare me.”

He leans forward, his dark irises going icy as he captures your rapt attention with this one single glance. 

“I should,” he spits out with a twitch of his lip. “But only if you give yourself reason to, yeah? I never want to hurt you, sweetness, never.” He goes softer, brushing a finger along your cheek, sending you trembling with a quivering lip. “Jus’ want you to be here w’me, lettin’ me take good care of you, and you do the same f’me. Somethin’ so beautiful here, you ‘n I…”

You sigh heavily, your body slumping in defeat. You’re exhausted, your nerves frayed and mind overstimulated from all of the inconsistencies, the back and forth with him. If what he says is true, if he wants to treat you kindly, give you all he’s promised, you know what he expects in response. You can feel it in the undertone of every word he says, every tiny movement when he touches you. He wants you to belong to him, to have you sucked so completely into his world there’s no going back. To have you fear him and look in wonder at him and worship at his feet and let him touch you and feel you and be completely yours and you be completely his. Your head spins, a dizzy sickness overtaking you at how utterly lost you feel right now. How badly you crave it and are equally repulsed by it. 

You dip your head down, eyes on your lap as you let the wave of churning fear wash over you.

“Eyes up, darlin’,” Joel reminds you, fingers tracing on your thigh to get your attention. 

“I… believe you,” you say, turning your gaze to him again. It’s not an answer yet, not a yes or no or anything at all. A fact.

“I know you do,” he says, a serious expression curling into a smile. “Only say what I mean. Are we clear, then?”

Joel’s face inches closer to yours, leaving just a few inches between you, now. “Y-yes,” you mutter, rapidly scanning over his eyes to try to read anything there but the inky darkness that seems to permeate above all else.

“Good,” he says proudly. “Now gimme a smile, darlin’. Need to see you lookin’ happier ‘round here.”

You pull your lips into a tight smile that seems to suffice for Joel as he carries on, moving until his lips hover just above yours. You notice yourself starting to tremble a little bit, shoulders tightening up, and Joel holds you close as his brows come together.

“You ever kiss a man like me, darlin’?” he whispers, licking his lips.

Your lips part, words failing you for a moment as you contemplate him. Your throat is suddenly dry and itchy as you glance down at Joel’s lips. “N-no…” You shake your head. “I haven’t… haven’t been with… anyone…”

Joel stills completely for what feels like minutes, his lips twisted to the side in a wry smile now. “You sayin’ you’re a virgin?” he asks bluntly, his hands naturally tightening their grip on your back, fingers digging in as they slide a little lower towards your waist.

Your face burns first, then your entire body is set aflame as embarrassment sets in. You know you shouldn’t be embarrassed, but you can sense Joel’s experience, almost having some strange need to impress him with your own, coming up empty. Your eyes look down, staring at the middle of his shirt before you nod once, blinking away a quick sting of tears at your sudden humiliation. 

“Christ,” Joel bites back all the things he wants to say for a moment and tuts as he notices your glassy eyes, scraping his fingers along your back. He tightens his hold on your waist and tugs you even closer so that your hips are flush with his. He moves his lips right next to your ear, making you shudder as they brush close enough to touch for a moment. “Had a feelin’. You have no idea… how turned on that makes me, sweet girl.”

Joel’s crude words have you gasping a little, a breath caught in your throat as you stutter out a sound to try to answer him. His lips press on your neck again, kissing a little more fervently down to your collarbone and then he pulls back, one hand going to your face to cup your cheek. 

“Such an innocent little thing… so sweet…” he murmurs. “‘S okay to touch me, y’know.” Your hands tingle with anticipation as he says that, but you don’t know how to move them, where to move them to, or if you want to touch him.

“I - I don’t…” You shake your head, and Joel captures one of your hands in his, holding it gently and rubbing his fingers along yours. 

“I got ya, I’ll show y’everythin’ you need to know, how’s that sound?” he says, gazing down at you intently, waiting with baited breath to hear your response. 

“You mean…” you ask, cheeks flushing as you’re unable to finish your sentence. Joel places your hand on his chest, spreading your fingers out to splay across the space between his pecs. He nods softly and you wiggle your fingers a little, feeling the planes of his chest, hard but warm underneath your palm. He glances down to where your hand explores a little more, running your fingers gently over to the right side of his pecs, then the left, and smirks. 

“I mean all of it, you sweet little thing. You don’t know how good y’could feel, do you?” Joel breathes a little heavier, his expression losing a bit of its controlled façade, that vague look of craving revealing itself in his eyes again. “I could give you so much… oh, you pretty thing, you need it.” He shakes his head in disbelief of everything he’s learned about you. “Untouched… so innocent…” he says more quietly, his hands finding their way back to your waist, thumbs hooking under the waistband at the back of your pants.

“I’m n-not sure… I-I don’t know -” you stutter as you feel his thumbs touch bare skin before one of his hands trails under your shirt, moving upwards. Your eyes blink a little slower, a flutter of your lashes as his calloused pads scrape along your skin, leaving a blazing trail that tingles all the way to the base of your spine. It pools quickly there, your core starting to heat up as his hand travels higher, the other playing at the hem of your shirt, starting to lift it. Your breath hitches, eyes going wider as your shirt moves, but you don’t squirm, don’t try to stop him.

“Y’do know. I can see you want it, sweetheart, look at how you respond to me…” He breathes in and out a little shakily. “Respond to a man takin’ good care of you…”

“W-what are you doing?” you ask, feeling your back almost halfway exposed to the air.

“Think you know what I’m doin,” Joel huffs a stony hearted chuckle. “Just wanna see how pretty y’are, take a peek, thas’ all.”

You shrink back a little, eyebrows pulled close together, shaking your head in small movements. “I’m scared…” you whimper finally, showing Joel the fear that’s been building deep inside of you. You don’t know how to want this, when to know your body is telling you it’s okay. You’ve somehow lost complete trust in any of your instincts, unsure of where along the way that happened. 

“I know, I know,” he purrs, still pulling your shirt higher. His lips dart down to your stomach, where your bare skin is starting to show, kissing sloppily along all the fresh skin he hasn’t seen yet. He starts speaking against your body, kissing in between his words. “Nothin’ to be scared of when you got me though, y’understand? You let me take care of you, and you’ll never worry a day in your life. Be my good girl, my everything. Just gotta trust me.” His nails dig into your back, a sweet, welcome pain, bringing you to the present. It’s too easy to lose yourself to his lips, his touch, his words. Your hand stays steadily placed on his chest, barely daring to move now.

You stare with your mouth open, and at your silence Joel drags his mouth up your chest and to your neck before looking at you expectantly.

“I don’t… know…” you murmur, less convincingly than the other times, an observation that Joel doesn’t fail to notice. He gathers the fabric of your shirt and tugs on the front hem of your shirt, pulling it taut along your back, drawing you closer to him as his lips sit merely an inch from yours.

“Think y’do know,” he says, greedy hands under the front of your shirt now, pulling the hem up. “I’ll be so gentle, honey…” He pulls your shirt up further and you drop your hand from his chest, allowing him the freedom of movement he needs to finish the job. 

“Okay…” you whisper, unsure if the two syllables even resonate far enough to reach Joel’s ears. You start to feel your legs trembling as you see his face registering your one word, the only thing he’d needed to hear. 

“Good girl,” he breathes out, exuding pure elation. “Oh, I’m gonna make you so happy, darlin’, gonna give y’everythin’.” He practically snarls as his hands get back to work on your shirt, lifting each of your arms to tug them through the sleeves, then tossing your shirt aside after it's over your head.

A growl tumbles out of his throat when he takes in your breasts, and you hunch your shoulders up a little more, your arm flying up to cover your chest now that it's exposed. Joel’s hand grabs your wrist, strongly wrapped around it as he tugs it away.

“Don’t have to hide ‘em from me, nothin’ to hide from me now,” he snaps, tossing your arm back to your side. His hands reach up to tease at the swell of your breasts, and you sit half in shock, letting his fingers send tingles across your skin as he explores your chest. He runs errant fingers down along the curves as he stares downwards. Your breath catches when he rubs his thumbs over your pebbled nipples, you back arching towards him as you gasp. 

“So soft ‘n pretty…” He grins, continuing to watch the way his hands work along your skin, a little more rough as he gropes your tits, rolling your nipples just to observe your reaction. The little pinch sends waves of arousal through your body, pooling deep inside of you, making you feel your underwear get damp again. You’re already panting, the sensations he’s bringing out in you so strong that you can hardly contain the little noises slipping out of you as he continues touching your chest.

“I - I’m…” you pant. “Joel…”

He pauses for just a moment, leaning closer and brushing his lips across your cheek. “Know you’re feelin’ good, aren’t ya?”

You nod dumbly, completely awestruck as he pinches your nipples again, sending your back arching and hips pressing into his. It’s maddening and confusing all in one, the way he’s able to work your body like this and make you feel a hot burning starting to blaze across your skin. 

“Pretty girl never had her tits touched, has she?”

You shake your head urgently, a breathy moan pulled out of your throat as he pinches and tugs a little harder on the hard buds. “P-please… stop… it’s too…” you whine, scrunching your face, unsure if you actually want him to stop. You feel wild, feral almost, the strangest sensation pulling at your insides as he tugs one more time.

Joel smirks in satisfaction, going back to caressing you more lightly, giving you some relief. One hand travels down to rest on your hip, the other up to your face to cradle your cheek in his palm. 

“You’re fun to play with, jus’ like I thought you’d be…” Joel muses as he touches your face. “You’re bein’ so good f’me, too, honey. Lettin’ me see you ‘n touch you.” He looks at you almost curiously now, like he’s studying you. 

“Think you deserve a little reward for bein’ so good for me, finally seein’ some sense.” He pauses, watching your face morph into a soft, intrigued look. “How’s that sound, hm?” he asks, pinching your cheek. 

You tilt your head at him. “A reward? Wh-“

“Exactly. If you act like a good girl, gotta reward ya for it.” Your heart beats a little faster as you take in his words, your thighs clamped as his voice comes out low and teasing. “C’mere, sweetheart,” he says, wrapping his fingers around your cheek and pulling you closer as he leans in. “You deserve to feel good, do you realize that? You’ve been denyin’ yourself somethin’ so good, but turns out it was so that I could show ya.”

“I - Joel - I don’t know…” you blurt out, your stomach twisting. The fact you can barely say anything but those same three words over and over is starting to frustrate you. 

“Don’t go gettin’ shy on me now,” Joel replies, his hand now cradling the back of your head. “You’ll enjoy this.”

He leans forward again, completely closing the gap between the two of you as he presses his lips to yours. It’s soft at first, testing you, and you blink once in surprise, not able to force yourself to press your lips back into his at first. But your body naturally starts to melt into him a little, his hand stroking against the back of your head calming you into submission. Your hands twitch forward, gently touching the bottom hem of his shirt and holding onto it just slightly. The feel of the fabric grounds you as you feel your lips press back into Joel’s, sending a wave of heat over your body. Your cheeks burn and your skin prickles as he groans quietly and pushes his lips a little more aggressively against yours before pulling back slightly. 

He looks down at you with a smirk. His hand digs into your waist a little harder, the possession he’s feeling clearly evident. 

“Tastes sweet, darlin’,” he says quietly before leaning back in, kissing you again. Your hand tugs a little harder on the bottom of his shirt and you feel yourself cracking under the pressure, like you’re about to burst into a million little parts like a piece of dropped china.  

His mouth opens and invites you to do the same, so you follow his lead. You’re frustrated, unsure of yourself, not understanding the way your body just moves with his, mirroring his motions. 

Maybe this is how it’s supposed to be. Maybe your first kiss is supposed to feel just like this. Maybe you’re supposed to be afraid and unsure and terrified yet intrigued in a way you can’t ignore. You wouldn’t know any different, after all, and your body already yearns for Joel to keep going, to press his lips harder onto yours, to feel his warm, soft lips all over you. You don’t even quite understand where the thoughts come from, it’s like your body is telling you without your mind having to get involved. 

You open your mouth the tiniest bit, allowing Joel to kiss you deeper. He pulls back just enough to suck a little on your bottom lip and you whimper and your brows scrunch. How… how could it feel so good?

As if to send you asking that question a hundred more times, one of his hands skates his fingers up your spine and you shudder, falling apart just as his tongue swipes across your bottom lip. You nearly gasp but find your own tongue hesitantly brushing against his. He hums quietly in satisfaction, continuing the motions of his tongue with small variations - darting into your mouth, licking your lip. 

You feel your entire being aching and warm now with the way Joel is pressed as close as he can, hips flush with yours. You want to move your own hips, to push them further and further, your body urging you on again without telling you quite what it’s doing. 

You yank your head back, completely breathless. Joel’s hand scrambles to the back of your head, holding it in place as he devours your lips again, not letting up just yet. 

“Wasn’t done w’you yet…” he mumbles before kissing you again, his tongue and lips more aggressive now as his hand slides to the back of your neck, gripping tightly. When he’s had his fill he tucks his head back enough to get a read on your expression, smirking. He sees the wonder in your eyes, the confusion, the struggle, but he welcomes it all, now. He knows he has you - his prize, his to keep, his to take. He can practically feel the ache of want oozing out of your pores now as you sit trembling slightly on the table, your soul and tits bared to him, equally enticing. A perfect paradox, he thinks.

You look so perfect - like a pure, innocent angel sent just for him. He knows you can be exactly what he’s looking for - someone to call his own, to protect and guide and keep close to him. His perfect girl.

He buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent and musk like it’s the last time he’ll ever get a chance to before his lips rumble against you. 

“Lemme take you upstairs, show you how to be mine," he offers, in a way that's not an offer at all, but an instruction, a test.

He’s quiet and seductive with his words, a low, gravelly lilt to his voice that makes your head swim. You’re hazy, a practically drunk feeling coming over you now - cloudy and out of control of your own body. 

Before you can stop yourself, body buzzing and lips puffy and parted in need, you nod for him.

reminder i have no taglist now! follow @beardedjoel-updates and turn on notifs!

smother - part iii: compliance

dark!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: the deeper you fall into his trap, the further you start to lose a sense of what you really want. 10.4k words chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI! noncon, nonconsensual touching, dubcon - reader eventually enthusiastically consents but the syndrome is stockholming so its dubcon, coercion, reader is a virgin, big juicy age gap (reader is 19, joel is 55), ddlg (no infantilization of reader) daddy!dom joel is coming out to play this chapter, fingering, handjob, joel's corruption kink confirmed here, joel is both mean (hurts reader briefly) and sweet once again, if these darker tags aren't your cup of tea please keep scrolling! a/n: oh we're SO back with some smut this chapter! this story has me pushing my own limits on creativity and stuff and that has really been rewarding so far, i love it and i love dark!joel. anyhoooo please enjoy my lovelies 🤍 reminder i have no taglist anymore! follow @beardedjoel-updates and turn on notifs for when i post there!

It’s okay it’s okay it’s okay…

Joel’s words echo in your ear from where they were whispered moments ago as he pressed himself into you from behind, urging you up the stairs towards his bedroom. One hand gripped firmly on your upper arm, the other on the small of your back, fingers exploring along your bare skin. You turn back once more with worried, widened eyes as you reach the top of the steps and he presses against you again, nearly pushing you. 

“I got ya, sugar” he says quietly, stopping for a moment to nuzzle into your neck before pushing you along. The new pet name he’s trying out makes you blink a few times, half liking the sweet implication. His deep breath in and out tickles your skin and you suddenly feel itchy from his facial hair scratching there. Panic claws its way up from your stomach, suddenly unsure of everything, like you’re just snapping out of the stupor you were in from Joel’s lips. 

Joel had made you feel good downstairs just moments ago, giving you that first, unforgettable kiss. It was so much more hungry and wet and passionate than you’d ever envisioned a kiss being, and it made you feel even more anxious that you truly were out of your depth here. 

You’ve managed in your fog to pad your way to Joel’s bedroom with him close behind you, his heat seeping into your skin, his body close enough to morph right into yours. He spins you immediately to face him and starts to kiss you again the moment you’re inside his bedroom. After just a moment of surprise, you fall right back into it, his tongue dancing a perfect rhythm against yours and you whimper and moan quietly. You find your body wanting to be closer closer closer to him so you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers grazing right against the curls at the base of his neck. 

Joel pulls back to smile down at you, a wicked thing as his eyes glint before he dives back in. He’s devouring you, hands all over your body as if he doesn’t know which spot to get enough of next. He’s suddenly lifting you up, large palms spread underneath your thighs as he hoists you up against him, carrying you so that you don’t have a chance to stop him from bringing you to his bed. 

That same bed you’d seen him just hours earlier, the moment that had started this fucked up chain of events you’d fallen into.

“There we go, jus’ relax,” Joel coos as he lays you down flat, your head right against the mattress. He climbs on top of you, trapping you completely before his lips smash into yours again. He’s taking now, giving you no room to push back or speak as his tongue laps into your mouth over and over, hearty groans escaping him. Sounds that a famished man makes eating his favorite meal. It makes you shudder, the way you’ve started to feel like his meal, like something he could just enjoy and toss away the scraps he leaves afterwards. 

“Christ, so fuckin’ innocent, sugar. I’ll teach you so many things to do w’that tongue,” he comments slyly after you hesitantly try to use your tongue in the same way as he was. Joel’s lips drag down your chin to your neck and start to suck on various spots, a little soft at first to test you but more hurried and rough the longer he goes. His body grinds against yours a bit and you lay back, feeling breathless. Your body burns and burns as he marks you and moves against you, your thighs aching all the way to the apex. 

You squirm a little bit, a foreign discomfort completely taking over, and Joel pulls back to look down at you. He strokes the side of your head from your forehead all the way back, looking at you with warmer eyes. 

“Gonna be okay, I’ll show ya how good you can feel…” he murmurs as his fingers start to trace along your bottom lip. “Now I’m gonna peek at a little more of ya,” he announces before sliding down your tense body, straddling your legs before hooking his fingers in your sweatpants. They’re down and shoved off your legs before you can even process it, leaving you in just a pair of plain white panties. His eyes roam up every inch of your body, white heat flickering low in your belly at the way Joel looks at you. 

“Now that’s a sight…” He smirks, sliding his hands up your thighs to rest on your hips, treating each spot he touches with a new reverence. You’ve started to tremble a little, the chilly air biting at you along with this vulnerable feeling, being so exposed. 

“Y-you like the way I look?” you ask tentatively, having to clear your throat from lack of use. Your sudden urge for validation from him strikes you hard and you silently curse yourself. 

Joel smiles at the unexpected question from you and gives you a singular nod. “‘Course I do. You’re real beautiful, sweetheart. ‘Specially like this.” His eyes land between your legs as he says the last words, licking his lips out of habit. He slinks up next to you, laying close to you and wrapping an arm around you, enveloping you in everything Joel.

“Now don’t ya feel safe here like this? Got me right here holdin’ you, gonna make it all okay.”

You just nod, swallowing the anxious lump in your throat. “I’m… just scared…” you admit, willing your cheeks to stop burning hot with all the emotions swirling around inside of you. Desire, embarrassment, discomfort, doubt - all mixing up to create a disastrous thundering of your heart inside of your chest. 

“Baby, nothin’ to be scared of…” Joel coos, kissing your shoulder and peppering them across the top of your chest as he leans over your body. 

“You’re not gonna hurt me?” you wonder aloud. You’d heard stories through the grapevine of other girls - fearful stories of pain or blood that had nearly revolted you at the time, made you almost glad there were no men paying that type of attention to you just yet. You’d always hoped they were just exaggerated tales, and you suppose you’re finally about to find out for yourself. 

“I’ll be honest, sweet girl. This might hurt a little bit. Just ‘cause it’s your first time.” His lips suckle at the swell of your breast and you squirm a little, back arching into it as your breath hitches. You try to focus back on his words as his lips move an inch and do the same motion, a gentle sucking so close to your nipple now that you nearly puff your chest in his direction, hoping his mouth will land there next. 

“But it’s such a special kind of love a man can show ya on your first time, darlin’. Get to have all of you…” he muses, his warped excitement becoming more palpable by the second, filling the room and stifling the air. “I’ll be gentle,” he adds on as he sees another spark of fear on your face. 

“You’ll be gentle…” you repeat quietly, squeezing your eyes shut in some type of silent prayer. You feel the needle-like prickle of tears behind your eyes again, begging yourself to do anything but cry right now. You dig your nails deep into your palms, squeezing your fists tight to keep the pain there instead of burning deep in your stomach where it’s settled. 

How can you be this close to all of it and still so unsure? Would you ever be sure? Or is this how everyone feels during their first time?

Joel finally pops one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking harder while his hand plays with your free nipple, rolling it between his fingers. You cry out at the unexpected sensation and wriggle your body, only to be held down a little harder by Joel. 

“Mm-mm,” he hums, “No squirmin’ away.” His mouth quickly finds a home on your breasts again as you try to still your body, not wanting to make him upset. You’d seen how he behaved when he was upset with you, and it was not something you found yourself wanting to repeat. 

”Pretty little nipples, sweetheart,” Joel says, talking at your chest while he flicks his tongue on the hard bud, unrelenting in his tasting of your sweet, supple skin. “Look at ‘em all day if I could. Half a mind to have you walk ‘round w’your tits out all the time.” He chuckles dryly before he sucks again, a little harder and you bite back the gasp that sticks in your throat at the jolt of pleasure it sends rocking through your body. “You’d do that f’me, wouldn’t you? Jus’ to get a little of ‘ol Joel’s attention?”

His words make you itchy, almost, in a strange, foreign way, one that’s hard to explain even to yourself. Like you want to crawl out of your skin, yet want to hear his words over and over, hear more of the things he sees in you, would want from you. You’d never found yourself to be someone with much to offer anyone, really, and hearing Joel already find so much to dote on is inflicting you with the most unexpected addiction you could have imagined.

You feel Joel’s fingers squeeze your chin suddenly, your eyes flicking open to glance down at him. “Answer me when I’m speakin’ to you,” Joel says softly despite the commanding tone of his words. 

“I - yes,” you answer, tripping over the single word as you push it out in a hurry. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs in response, leaning up to peck a kiss on the spot on your chin he’d been gripping. “Now you’re gonna let me make you feel good, ain’t ya? Let me treat you like a princess, show you what all the other men shoulda done but were too dumb. Chance with a pretty girl like you,” he rambles with a little scoff. “All meant f’me, anyways.” His conclusion seems to satisfy him as he grins, taking in your body with a hot gaze, lingering at the base of your stomach where his hands are itching to go. He doesn’t wait for your answer this time, sliding his hand right down, skillfully touching your soft skin the entire way.

Joel’s fingers start to trace the band of your panties, that satisfied grin still plastered on his face as he watches your reactions - your little sharp inhales and small twitches of your face as you feel him exploring your body. His eyes can’t help but drift down to watch your chest heave, pert tits on display and abused, hard nipples poking out into the air. He has a tempting thought to spend his entire night with his face buried right there, but he has more pressing matters to get to, he reminds himself as he feels his cock twitch inside his jeans. 

He suddenly sighs as he pads the outside of your underwear, his face nearly pained looking in his ecstasy. “You’re soaked f’me, sugar,” Joel says, breathless. You feel yourself flush hot, your cheeks burning, thinking this has to be something to be embarrassed about, something that shows your lack of experience and your fear.

“‘S not a bad thing,” Joel tells you quickly, seeming to read your mind yet again. He doesn’t stop, his fingers teasing the fabric that starts to seep onto his digits. “Means you like all this, means your body is tellin’ us you’re ready.”

“Oh,” you say flatly, feeling dumb for not having much better to say. “I- uh, are you going to do it now, then?”

Joel chuckles, a genuine sound ringing through the quiet room, like he’s amused. “Christ,” he breathes out, swirling his fingers along the fabric, making your hips jump as he brushes your bundle of nerves. “You’re too cute, so perfect f’me. I get to teach you everythin’.”

Your brain can barely register his words, too focused on that little spasm that had just rocked its way through your body when Joel’s fingers touched along that sensitive spot. You blink, biting your lip as his fingers tease everywhere but there, silently urging him to brush there again.

Joel huffs another laugh watching your contorted, concentrated face. “Already fucked out, can’t think about nothin’ but these fingers, huh?” he teases you, amusement lacing his voice. His fingers make a tight circle over your clothed clit and you inhale sharply through your teeth, stifling a little noise from deep in your chest. “That what you wanted? Jus’ desperate f’me to touch your clit, sugar?”

You shake your head, completely overwhelmed by the absurdity of this feeling. “I don’t - I don’t…” you murmur, trying to convince yourself for what feels like the final time that you don’t want any of this. That you don’t feel an amoral, wicked pull towards this man that you shouldn’t - this man who has treated you like prey, is far too old to be interested in you, who by all accounts should be sending you fighting and running. A man you know likely has debased plans for you that you can barely even conjure up in your own mind, but plans that you are slowly realizing you want to be a part of, are curious about. 

His care, his touch, his infatuation. They could all be yours, if you’d let him.

“Think you do… look at you, innocent little thing. Wrestlin’ w’yourself. Nothin’ wrong happening here, honey.”

You look to his dark eyes, seeking guidance, reassurance. “I-it’s not? I feel so…” You can’t put any of it into words for him, how intense the feeling is, how badly your body is craving something that you don’t know anything about yet. How dirty you feel for wanting it with him.

He shakes his head slowly to try and convince you. “Mm-mm. I feel it too, sugar. ‘S jus’ attraction, desire. Makes you burn all hot in here, don’t it?” he asks, cupping your aching, wet cunt through your panties. You gasp at the fullness of his hand against your throbbing folds while you nod fervently, taking in a deep breath to steady yourself as his fingers curl and then drag up your clothed slit. Your head arches back a little and you let out a tiny mewling sound through closed lips. Your mind muddles instantly, eyes rolling back as he repeats the motion, this time letting his fingers trail off to the edge of your panties, teasing the hem there.

“Thas’ it, let yourself enjoy it, princess. Let daddy take care of you.”

He’s barely controlling himself now, his breath heavy against your neck as he starts to move with more urgency, teeth scraping against your delicate skin. Your brow furrows quickly at the new reference to himself but his teeth sink into your flesh with a soft nip, pulling your mind back to the present. 

“You’re gonna like this,” he murmurs quietly into your skin as his fingers fiddle one final time at your waistband before wiggling under, diving deep and sliding his fingers right into your wet slit. 

“Oh… m-my, g-“ you whimper as quietly as you can when he slips them back and forth a few times, brushing your clit on each one, gathering up a lewd amount of slickness on his fingers. He spreads your wet folds delicately, feeling his way around almost respectfully, desperate breaths puffing out of his nose.

“Poor baby… soakin’ yourself this whole time… never even knowin’ how good you could feel, how much y’need a cock in here,” Joel says, sounding truly devastated for you. His brazen language makes your head spin and your cheeks flourish with warmth. And then it finally happens - his fingers swirl over your clit again. 

You cry out loud this time, unable to hold it back when his circling tightens and he puts more pressure down on the aching little bud. The heat from between your legs starts to spread to your lower belly, pulling taut and warm as it settles there.

“Oh…” you murmur, back arching when Joel adds a second finger to the motion. Your legs shake a little as they lay flat on the bed, knees starting to bend of their own volition to help your hips start to wriggle closer to his touch. You stutter out another moan when his fingers press harder, the feeling shooting what feels like sparks through your entire bloodstream, straight to your head. You’re foggy, thoughts clouded over as everything else starts to fade out. Your mind pinpoints on Joel’s touch, practically seeing just his fingers in your mind's eye and the sensation that’s quickly boiling in your core, tightening with each movement he makes. 

“Yeah, feelin’ so good ain’t you princess?” Joel coos with a grin, making his movements a little faster. “First one to touch this little clit, first one to see ya like this, writhin’ around like an animal in heat. God…” He marvels at your microexpressions, the contortions of your body, the way he can see you’re holding back, not wanting to seem too eager. 

“Let go, sweetheart. Be loud f’me. Be loud f’daddy,” Joel urges you, eyes practically bugging out of his head as he sees you start to sheen a little with sweat, your body hot and tingling next to him. He smirks as he slips a finger down, eliciting a desperate cry from you when it leaves your clit to tease your entrance. 

“D-daddy…” you start, meaning it as more of a question, wanting to understand what he’s getting at, but it trails off into a pathetic little cry when the tip of his index finger pushes into you unexpectedly.

Joel has died and gone to heaven, if his expression is any indication as he breathes out shakily, hardly in control of his actions at this point. “Thas’ right, thas’ right, princess. Call out f’me while I’m inside ya.”

“F-fuck,” you let slip out. “Y-you’re inside?” you ask him in slight disbelief that it’s really happening. You go completely breathless as he starts to play with your clit again, using his thumb to flick urgently there while he lets his finger settle inside of you. 

Joel wriggles his finger deeper, burying his index finger almost to the hilt as he nods, turning your head with his free hand to make sure you’re looking at him. 

“Naughty little thing, cursin’ cause daddy made you feel that good.” He smirks, letting you sweat it out for another moment before answering your question in a softer voice, almost sweet and caring. “‘M inside, sugar. Feels so fuckin’ good, too. Perfect, tight little hole all f’me.”

You’ve become a trembling mess, the fullness from Joel’s finger overwhelming you. The tingling warmth spreads to your belly from where he starts to move his finger, slowly at first.

“Yeah, there we go, takin’ me so well,” Joel mumbles as you relax around his finger, pressing in and out in sloppier motions. You gasp when his finger presses in to the hilt, then he repeats it over and over, filling you up. Your hips twitch and grind a little into him, into the feeling of his thumb flicking carefully at your clit.

“O-oh…” you whimper out, gushes of warmth coating Joel’s finger, running down onto his hand. He grunts an approving noise as he feels the way your body pours out slickness for him. This is pure heaven, he concludes to himself, nothing in the world could be sweeter than the feeling of taking this from you and getting so much in return.

“Christ, you are perfect,” he says near your ear. “This okay, princess?”

You just give him a nod, barely able to speak as your entire body starts to feel warmer and drawn tight, Joel’s finger on your clit moving at an achingly slow pace.

“Gonna feel somethin’ for just a second, mkay?” he says quietly, not bothering to clue you in any further before retreating his index finger and snuggling his middle finger right next to it, inserting them both into your weeping entrance.

Joel breathes a sigh, the air fanning across your bare chest. “Mmm, so tight, baby. Thas’ it, just focus right on me,” he says as your eyes open wide and look right into his. You feel the burn from his second finger, so thick and wide in comparison, your body adjusting to the new sensation.

“J-joel…” you whimper quietly when he starts to move them with more force, your brow furrowing with the strange mixture of pain and pleasure. 

“Y’need to relax, c’mon,” he urges, using his free hand to rub gentle circles on your shoulder. “Promise we’ll get you feelin’ real good, sweetheart. We gotta get you all stretched out to fit all ‘f me.” He rubs a soothing hand on your shoulder with his free one, shushing you when he sees the look of worry on your face. 

“Jus’ enjoy it.”

His words echo in your mind as you start to fully embrace all the sensations. You feel a burning heat in your core start to radiate, pulling tight, so tight it’s nearly maddening before your hips shift the tiniest bit and find your release, the tightness completely snapping from one moment to the next. 

“Oh my god… oh my god… oh…” you cry out, feeling yourself starting to shake, your entire body ravaged by oncoming waves and waves of pleasure. 

“Look at me when you come, princess,” Joel says sternly as he grasps your face, turning your head in his direction. You slowly creep your eyes open and see his dark pools full of a sense of smugness and wonder. “God, fuck, that’s good, keep comin’ f’me,” he breathes out, feeling your slick pouring out onto his hand as you come. 

You’ve never felt so amazing in your entire life, the only thought you can think is more more more as you moan loudly, any shame in doing so long gone when you feel this incredible. White heat envelops you, sending your vision speckled and your back arching off the bed completely, your hips spasming down to where Joel sloppily yet expertly fucks you with his fingers. You grip at the sheets with one hand, Joel’s shirt with the other, squeezing them both to try to hang on to reality. 

“Good girl, good little girl… god you’re pretty when you come,” Joel says, talking you through it. His fingers are merciless until the last second, when your hips drop to the bed with a sudden thud, your entire body limp, only your hips jumping with a need to get away from the overstimulation. 

“Oh, that was a big one, now, wasn’t it?” Joel asks softly, pulling his hand from between your legs and resting it on your thigh, his other still soothing on your cheek. Your eyes flutter and roll back as you catch your breath, trying to wrap your mind around what just happened. 

“Uh-huh…” you murmur dazedly, your hand still resting on Joel’s chest after letting go of his shirt. 

Joel peppers your face with soft, loving kisses, finally reaching your lips and kissing you deeper. You’re lost, somewhere in another dimension completely, kissing him back without any knowledge of doing so. The warmth of his lips starts to bring you back and you flutter your eyes open as he pulls back. 

“Y’did real good. How’d that feel, huh, sugar?” Joel inquires, looking down at you expectantly. 

“S-so… good… I can’t explain…”

“Mhm, I know what ya mean,” he replies sweetly, “Hard to explain, jus’ all that pleasure. Loved makin’ you feel that good, honey.” Joel leans in to kiss your cheek, using his hand to tilt you towards him and plants another kiss on your lips. You moan quietly, body overstimulated and exhausted, the now empty space between your legs aching and tingling for him.

You roll your head back onto the pillow, unable to respond. Joel places a hand over the one of yours that rests on his chest and rubs his thumb over the back. 

“Gonna make you feel like that all the time,” he says with an oddly devoted, sweet tone, leaning down and surprising you with another kiss. Your eyes open again and he’s looking at you with that look again. “So much more we could do,” he adds, shifting his smile into something more hungry again. 

“Wh-“ you start to ask, and Joel’s finger touches your lip gently. You can taste the remnants of yourself on it - such a strange, foreign flavor that makes you smack your lips a little. Joel’s amusement at your response shows quickly on his face as he traces his finger along your lips with a soft smile.

He starts to sit up and lean back on the bed, sending your hand dropping from his chest, a quick bounce on the mattress before it stills. His hands reach to his waist, fingers working at his belt. You stare, eyes transfixed on his every move as your heart starts to beat more quickly, anxiety flooding your system as you toil over what comes next. 

“Ain’t done with you yet, sweet girl,” he mumbles, belt now hanging loose and open while he palms himself outside of his jeans. Your mind races at the prospect of seeing what you saw from afar this morning just this much closer. Joel reads your deer in the headlights expression and smirks, head cocked as he looks down at you, sitting next to you on the bed, knees pushed into the mattress. 

You swallow hard, the apparent lump sliding down your throat and it makes your cheeks burn how openly nervous you are. Joel strokes a hand gently down the side of your head before pushing off the mattress and standing next to the edge of the bed. 

“Time f’you to see a real man, in all his glory,” Joel says, teasingly, like he knows something you don’t. And he does, you suppose, know a lot of things that you don’t in this regard.

He starts to peel off his jeans, letting them pool by his ankles, belt buckle clanging all the way down before he steps out of them. He has on a pair of dark boxer briefs, hard to tell if they’re black or navy in the fading evening light of his bedroom. All you can focus on is the apparent bulge there, knowing what’s underneath, that shockingly large part of him he’d stroked earlier because of you.

He wastes little time pulling his shirt over his head, revealing his hulking, muscular form, soft yet hard, toned and strong but fleshy and dusted with salt and pepper curls of hair, leading right down to the waistband of his briefs.

Your eyes flick from between his thighs to his face, searching his eyes for any kind of assurance, any kind of assistance in how to act, what to do next. He just remains as cocky as ever, hand grazing the outside of the tented fabric as he stares down at you with hooded eyes.

“You wanna see it, babygirl? Wanna touch daddy’s cock?” He rubs himself a little faster, a tiny growl suppressed in his chest while he awaits your answer. “Know you do, know you’re such a curious girl.”

You unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth and nod, swallowing hard again. “Y-yes, I want to see,” you finally say, meek and shaky, shrinking in on yourself like you’re preparing for a bomb to go off, afraid of what you’re about to witness. In what feels like a flash, his briefs are down on the ground, Joel’s cock springing free almost violently as it slaps against him. You stare for a moment, taking in the way it juts out from his body - rock hard, shiny pink head dripping and veins running along the length of him. You feel speechless, unsure if there’s something you’re supposed to say when a man shows you his penis.

“C’mon a little closer, princess, you can look, s’okay,” Joel says, calm and quiet. “Crawl over here.”

You hesitate a moment and push yourself up on the bed to get on your hands and knees. While it’s not a far distance, just a few paces and you’re to the side of the bed where Joel stands, he revels in the sight of you doing it, his lip caught between his teeth as he gently plays with himself. 

“Pretty girl,” Joel murmurs when you reach him, putting his hand along the back of your head and stroking once before holding on to keep you in a position to stare directly at his cock. It’s threateningly large right in your face like this, and you feel yourself shudder a bit as you watch Joel’s free hand gently touching all along the length. 

“Now, I want y’to touch it, can you do that, sweetheart?”

You hand hovers, your teeth sinking into the inside of your cheek as you peer at his member with a lack of confidence. 

“C’mon now,” Joel says, grabbing your wrist, moving your stalled, floating hand to his cock, settling your fingers on the head. Your stomach turns with the strangeness of all of this - the way you had given in to him and now felt like it was impossible to go back. Joel is gently nudging your hand, trying to urge you to move, and it brings you back to the present moment where you blink hard and focus on him again. 

“Sh-should I do this…?” you ask quietly, letting your fingers graze the head in a swirling motion, unintentionally picking up the beads of precum leaking out and you nearly pull back. Joel chuckles at your brief reaction to the liquid, then nods. 

“That’s good, real nice,” he says softly. “Touch it all over now, no need to be shy with me, okay?”

You press your lips together, unable to even look him in the eye due to your strange combination of being flustered and mortified. You can only find yourself staying focused on what you’re doing with your hands, making sure it’s right for him.

“What did I say about answerin’ me when I’m speaking to you?” Joel says a moment later, tugging on your hair to lift your gaze up to his. You wince, wishing he’d be a little more gentle with your scalp, and he sees your expression and only tightens his grip.

“I-I’m s-sorry. Um…” you take a deep breath, trying to calm your quaking hands. “Like this?” you ask him, using your fingertips to glide down the length of his cock, all the way to the base where a patch of thick curls sits. That seems to please him, a kinder smile on his face now when he nods in approval.

“Lean forward and spit right on there f’me,” he says, looking down at you and gesturing between his thighs. “Need to get it nice and wet f’daddy to feel good, okay?”

Your mouth hangs open in a stunted silence, your body unable to move without his assistance right now as he drags your hand along his dry cock. He grunts in exasperation before tugging back on your haIr again, forcing your face into a contorted wince.

“I don’t wanna hurt you, you know that, right? Y’jus’ need a firm hand, baby, helpin’ you figure all this stuff out. So why don’t ya go on ahead and do as I say, sweetheart, hm? It’d make me real happy.” His words are silken, laced with his country accent and that hidden malice he carries within him, every step, every word showing it to you, drawing you in further.

You bow your head a little as he loosens his grip, letting you decide for yourself now. “I-I’m sorry, you’re right, I- uh, d-do need your help,” you whine obediently, feeling your scalp starting to throb a tiny bit. 

Joel scratches at your head for a moment, watching you lean down closer to his cock. “Good girl, there ya go.” You can hear him smirking as you tentatively spit on his cock, watching the saliva settled on the top before dripping around the side. “Don’t be afraid, want ya to drool on it, baby, don’t worry ‘bout gettin’ messy.” He nudges your head forward and you breathe out a shaky breath before trying to desperately gather up any amount of saliva your drying mouth will offer you. You open your mouth, letting your tongue hang down before forcing yourself to spit watching more dribble onto the center of his cock.

“Fuck,” Joel grits through his teeth, feeling the sudden warm wetness of your saliva on him. “Thas’ it - f-fuck, now wrap your hand ‘round it,” he commands urgently, immediately negating any need for the words by wrapping his own hand more firmly around yours, sending your fingers curling around his length. 

“Look at that, sugar, barely even fit that little hand around me,” he says with an arrogant grin, starting to move your hand in strokes, gathering up all the slickness you’d just provided. The sound starts to reverberate through the room, that same noise you’d heard outside his door earlier.

You’re starting to feel like merely a passenger as he jerks on himself quicker using your hand, sitting in front of him almost completely naked, the real version of what he was picturing this morning as he pleasured himself. Joel smiles even more at the fantasy coming to life right before his eyes, your little panties the only thing he has left to remove before he’s seen all of you. And by god, does he want to see all of you. See what he has no doubt looks just as perfect as it felt around his fingers while he buried them inside of you.

“Take ‘em off,” Joel says as the thought pops into his head, staring down between your legs, his eyes practically glimmering.

“D-do I have to…?” you stammer out, suddenly wishing you could put back on every piece of clothing that’s now scattered between here and the kitchen downstairs.

“Now c’mon darlin’,” Joel snips, frowning a little. His hand continues to jerk yours along a little more aggressively as his breathing picks up. “Jus’ want to see your pretty body, baby girl, thas’ all. It’ll help me feel extra good right here,” he says, squeezing your hand as it moves along his cock.

You reach down and start pulling on the waistband of your panties, a little awkwardly as Joel holds your other hand hostage. You shimmy them down and sit closer to the edge of the bed, where Joel suddenly wraps his arm around your back and pulls you to the edge, leaving your legs dangling off on either side of his knees.

Joel’s hand grips at the side of your face, cupping your cheek less than delicately as he pants out, your hand moving quicker and quicker along his cock. You feel a rush of heat in your body similar to when Joel had been touching you earlier. That arousal cropping up low and deep in your belly, that feeling you want to ignore when it comes to Joel. But looking at him - sheening with sweat, his enticingly soft yet muscular belly right in your face, his face turning a shade more red with effort as he puffs out his quick breaths has you nearly squirming where you sit. It’s intimate, it’s sexual, you realize, something he’s giving to you just as much as you are him. 

“Fuck,” he spits out, tugging your hand off his cock and pushing you down with a swift shove to your chest. You fall back to the bed, nearly emotionally wounded when you notice his eyes still raking all over your body. 

“Lemme jus’ look at ya, fuck, put your legs up, show me that pretty cunt,” he demands, his hand flying back to his cock to continue stroking it as you prop your legs up on the bed, giving him the view he’s asking for. He groans loudly, deep and guttural as his eyes are glued to your glistening sex, a new slickness dripping out from the way he’s looking at you. You’ve never felt sexy before, desired, and even though the circumstances are never what you’d envisioned, you’re completely enamored with the feeling of it. Already craving more of it.

“Can’t wait to sink my cock into that tight little pussy,” he murmurs to himself, but you feel your entire body tensing at his words, taken by surprise that it might be happening right now.

Joel’s mouth curls in that devious but handsome way to the side as he sees your change in demeanor. “Shh, shh, not yet, sweetheart. Wanna keep you pure jus’ a little bit longer f’me,” he breathes out with a wink in your direction. 

Less controlled smacks of his fist against his skin fill the air of the room. You’re practically holding your breath, watching everything unfold as his cock throbs and twitches in his hold. He just watches your innocent, fascinated expressions move over your face and continues smirking down at you. 

“One thing at a time for my princess. Take you piece by piece, won’t I?” He seems so pleased to be the decider here, to say what you get, and don’t get. How he controls how he uses your body. It makes his cock throb achingly in his hand, just the thought of it alone. His to use. His to show all the pleasure. His to keep. 

He watches your lips, waiting for them to move, to answer his question. “Y-yes…” you whisper meekly. Joel groans at your compliance and his eyes flutter for a moment. He’s so close now. You understand that same feeling that had come over you for the first time not very long ago. 

“Yeah, princess, daddy’s gonna come all over you now. Tell me, say it. Say you want daddy to come all over you.” He breathes heavily, little groaning whimpers as he goes harder, his cock angry and red from the way he’s tugging on it. “Say it,” Joel booms out, and you start at the intensity of his voice, curling in on yourself for a moment. 

“I- I want daddy to come o-on me… a-all over me,” you say, hoping it’s loud enough for him to hear, that you won’t have to repeat it again. The name slides awkwardly off your tongue, wishing to understand it, make sense of why it made your core tingle for just a moment when you said the words. 

“God, bet you do, yes, fuck, daddy’s gonna come now, paint that perfect body with it,” Joel punches out before his hips stutter forward, his hand giving a few jerks as he starts to come hard, the white stickiness splattering onto you - your stomach, your breasts, even where your legs lay open for him to look at as his own personal little show. He heaves as the final bits spill out and he leans his head back, sighing. 

“God damn, so good, baby girl. You did amazing,” he coos, climbing onto the bed next to you. He sits while you lay motionless, nearly stunned from what you’d witnessed, the constant reminder of it in the form of his warm liquid dripping along your body. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says more softly, picking up your discarded panties and carefully swiping his mess off of you with them, curling his body close to yours. 

“That’s better,” he announces, holding the white cotton up to inspect the way his cum stains them now with a wry smirk. He sets them aside on his nightstand before his hands slip underneath your back and your legs to cradle you, pulling you into his lap. He sits back on the bed, nestling the both of you against the headboard as he settles you across his thighs. “This okay?” he asks, stroking your back. 

“Mhm.” You nod quietly and thread an arm around his torso, intertwined under where his arm reaches up to meet you. The movement comes naturally, more than you’d care to admit, wanting to feel loved and cared for right now. You hate the tears that sting your eyes again, like you’re not strong enough to handle something like this, something that adults do. 

“S-sorry,” you say, swiping your eyes quickly and trying to avoid any tears falling. 

“Shh, don’t be sorry. Y’did such a good job, y’know that? Normal to get emotional if it’s your first time.”

You chew on your lip and then look up at Joel, his features already strangely comforting and familiar. The speckled, tan skin that you want to touch more of, his dark lashes that fall over his eyes when he looks down at you like this.

“B-but it wasn’t… my first time…”

“Sure it was. First time doin’ somethin’ like that. It’s a lot for a sweet girl like you. But you’ll feel good again, just like tonight, I promise ya that.”

You nod, slightly more encouraged by Joel’s words as you relax a little more into his embrace. “That… release… it’s an orgasm, right?” You nearly choke on the words, shame flooding you for even having to ask. 

Joel blows out a teasing breath through his nostrils. “God damn, nobody out there teachin’ you anythin’, were they?” He ruffles the back of your head playfully. “Yes, darlin’ that was an orgasm, what both of us experienced.”

You crack a small smile at his teasing and brush your fingers along where they’re resting along his back. “People acted like it was… bad to teach about. My parents, people that looked after me, all of them.” You pause, feeling your face warm with the embarrassment of sharing so much “S-sorry I’m so clueless…”

“No, honey, not clueless. You’re learnin’, and I wanna be the one to teach you everythin’. It…” he inhales deeply, and you see that hunger in his eyes when you glance his way. “It excites me.”

“It does?”

“It’s so sexy, takin’ care of you and lettin’ you learn w’me. You like bein’ sexy, don’t you?” Joel teases, bringing a hand to your chin, tilting it just slightly. Your lips look the most inviting they have as they curve into the most delicate smile, one finally full of lust and confidence. 

“I do…” you murmur in response, averting your eyes as you flush yet again. Your body feels warm, bare and pressed against Joel’s naked flesh, his words instantly having an effect on you. 

“An’ you should,” Joel says, leaning forward to press his lips to your neck, smattering kisses down the length of it. “Already got me wrapped around your little finger.”

His lips tickle you as his facial hair brushes along you in his fast movements, and you nearly giggle, holding back at the last moment, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of hearing your laugh just yet. You sigh contentedly and lean back into him, fighting a sudden yawn.

“You all tired out?” Joel asks quietly, lips pressed close to your ear. You shiver at the vibrations of his rich timbre and inadvertently snuggle a little closer as goosebumps creep along your skin. Joel rubs your back in response, pulling you in tighter.

You nod, mumbling out a yes and Joel responds by gently rolling you over onto the bed, laying your head on the pillow. He’s curled up to you in an instant, arm thrown over your chest all the way to your arm on the other side, letting his fingers rub there.

“You get some rest, it’s been a big day, huh?”

“It has…” you mumble in reply, hesitantly resting your hand on his arm that covers your chest. It starts to feel like some semblance of normal, cuddling with Joel. You’d never experienced something like this, this closeness. 

“G’night,” he mumbles into your skin, kissing it one more time before you notice him going more slack, starting to settle into that dazed, half sleepy state. You look over at him, blinking slowly with a deep tiredness, just watching his face in this calm, non-threatening state. He looks handsome like this, a little vulnerable and sweet, someone you could pretend is holding you right now just so you feel taken care of and cared for. You wish you could read him, trace the weathered lines on his face and find out just who he really is, which version of the many different Joel’s he’s shown you he truly is.

You fall asleep trying to figure it out.

Your eyes flutter open, finding the room still dark. You imagine it has only been a few hours since you fell asleep, but you woke with your stomach aching, hunger tearing through you. You realize the only thing you’ve eaten is the bread and cheese Joel fed you, and it makes your stomach growl again.

Joel has mostly rolled off of you, just an errant hand laid across your upper arm as he sleeps, body sprawled out on the bed. You lay as still as can be for a few moments, checking just how deep he’s sleeping before you slip out of bed, on the prowl for a midnight snack. You don’t think Joel would mind, would he? He’d fed you earlier, promised that part of what he’d do to help you here is to share his provisions with you, keep you full. You spot a knit blanket on the back of a wooden chair in the corner of the bedroom and throw it around your shoulders, shivering as you snuggle your naked body underneath it and relish in the warmth.

It’s dark in the kitchen, but you don’t dare flick on the light, happy to scavenge by way of the small glow from the open refrigerator. You end up tearing off some more of the bread, careful to not take too much from Joel’s provisions. Your eyes drift around the room as you chew happily, taking it in now that you’re here alone, gaze free to roam without any questions from Joel. You stop when you land on your backpack, slumped near the door, and your boots, tucked right where you’d left them when you’d arrived. How was that only yesterday? It feels like an entire lifetime has passed since then. Like you’re a different person than when you’d first entered the threshold of that door, shaking and terrified, barely hanging on. Now… you still weren’t sure where you landed, but you were certainly changed.

Your threadbare coat hangs where Joel must have decided to leave it when you’d taken your shower. All of your things calling out to you, screaming red, like a test that he’d left for you. To test your loyalty, to see your obedience. Everything you’d need to disappear from this cabin, all in one little space. Your heart starts to race, your mouth dry as the bread seems to go sour on your tongue. 

You could leave right now, if you wanted. Take your chances. Let fate decide if you’d starve on your own or lead you to a new community - those people in Jackson - who might take care of you. You could learn. You were capable of survival, you knew you were. You could learn to hunt and fish and start fires on your own, to live off the land and not be scared of the hidden horrors of the world. Yes, you could leave right now, escape the uncertainty of Joel’s moods and promises, and learn.

You bite your lip anxiously, eyes in a trance as you stare at your backpack, with it holding the memories of those two weeks on your own where you fought and scraped by and nearly froze to death. You blink and turn your head back towards the fridge. Maybe you aren’t cut out for life on the road. Maybe you’re too soft for it. And maybe some more of that sheep’s cheese doesn’t sound so bad right now.

You open the fridge back up, peering inside to look for that little wrapped package you’d seen Joel pull from earlier. You nearly jump out of your skin when Joel’s voice cuts into the silent room - you’d been too absorbed in your own thoughts to even hear the creak of the old floorboards announcing his movements upstairs.

“The hell’re you doin?” his voice booms out in that controlled, stern tone that makes you want to listen. You whip your head around from where you’re crouched at the fridge, rummaging through it and see Joel stepping off the bottom of the staircase and into the main room. He hasn’t bothered to put anything on, like he was in a rush to see if you were down here, if you’d snuck off in the night. His naked body moves powerfully, muscles on display, and yet all you can focus on is what’s between his legs - his soft cock swinging almost tauntingly as he approaches you with such an angry aura. 

“I - I was hungry… starving. I thought I’d -“ you start, teeth clicking together in a fearful grimace as he cuts you off. 

“Yeah? Sure you’re not tryna run off again? Ransack my fridge and leave?” He’s already questioning you heatedly, reaching where you stand and slamming the fridge shut behind you and pressing you close to the door. 

You scramble in your mind to find the words to make him understand, shrinking in, afraid of what he’s capable of doing to you. “Wh - no, no I was… look at me, I have nothing on, I wouldn’t be running out like this, right?” You gesture down to your body, only draped in the small knit blanket. 

“Poor excuse, darlin’,” he sneers, looking down at you. The moonlight spilling in through the kitchen window casts menacing shadows across his rugged face. He narrows his eyes as he waits for you to further dig yourself out of this hole. 

“I - I swear it, I haven’t eaten much, remember? J-just that bread and cheese, and I woke up hungry.” You plead and see him soften just enough to want to let up a little bit, but his face hardens again at the last second. You realize he’s scared, the hint of it behind his wild eyes showing for just a moment. He’d really run down here thinking he’d find you gone for good and that had scared him, an emotion you wouldn’t have expected from Joel. He has weaknesses and fears after all. 

He steps a little closer and you can feel his cock, now half hard pressing between your legs. You fight the urge to wince, afraid he’s about to press it further.

“Hard to believe w’the way you were runnin’ off earlier. Not desperate to get away from me anymore now that I fucked that little pussy so good w’my fingers? Didn’t jus’ get what you want from me and wanna split?” You can tell he doesn’t even fully believe what he’s saying, he just wants to taunt you, remind you that he’s more powerful, that he holds all of the cards. He grips your cheeks, squishing them together and holding your head steady, inspecting you for another moment, as if he can get the truth out of you just by reading your face. His head leans forward and he holds you in place as he sucks on your neck, pulling your skin between his lips harder and harder. He lets go and keeps himself nuzzled tight to your neck as he speaks.

“Y’don’t do anythin’ like this again without wakin’ me up.” He squeezes your cheeks a little harder before releasing it, keeping his face buried against your neck. “‘S my job to take care of you, remember? Don’t wanna catch you like this again, yeah?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter, breathing a sigh of relief. One that’s short lived when Joel pulls another patch of skin into his mouth, using his teeth this time - you feel the slight nibble as he scrapes his teeth on your soft skin and you whimper quietly when it starts to hurt. 

“J-joel…” you whine, shifting uncomfortably, the heat of his body so close making you squirm and break out in a sweat.

“No,” he cuts you off, wrapping a hand around your arm and another around your waist, holding you in place. “If you’re here,” he says, stopping to flick his tongue along his recent mark, “You’re gonna refer to me as a few special names goin’ forward, okay? Teach you a little respect towards me.”

“I- I respect you,” you blurt out desperately, your eyes wide and searching the room for anything that might help you get out of this. Joel’s hold is absolute, as you’ve learned several times now. You’re suddenly unsure once again, his frightening behavior reminding you just who you’re living with now. You don’t dare to call him a monster, even in your thoughts, because that would be admitting what you’ve been desperately avoiding. You’re attracted to a monster, inexplicably fixated by him, lured in with his sweet offerings and chance at a new life. Worst of all, you’ve already given yourself over to him, let him drag you further into his clutches.

“You’ve been s-so kind and helpful, you fed me, everything…” you add on in a soft lilt, hoping he takes mercy on you.

He stays silent for a moment, his lips hovering above your skin, only his hot breath fanning across it. “Then show it,” he says in a deep rumble. “You’re gonna call me daddy, sweetheart. ‘Cause I’m here to take care of you. And a good girl always listens to her daddy, doesn’t she?”

He sucks again. Harder this time, the burn and sting shooting out from where he abuses your delicate skin. 

“She does…” you choke out.

“That’s right. I’m gonna be your everything, sweetheart. Your daddy, your sir, your master. And when you address me, you’ll address me as such, yeah? Show that you’re mine… show me respect.”

“M-mhm…” you whimper, swallowing with your lips pressed tightly together, the pain of him sucking on your neck after each little speech becoming more and more unbearable. It hurts, but something about the way he’s speaking, the concept of his domination over you, the way you can tell it comes from some completely twisted place of care, sends a warm skittering down your spine. Maybe you’re just as sick as he is if any part of you enjoys this, even the small, deeply hidden bit that seems to be growing with each encounter you have with Joel.

“And when I’m done w’you here tonight,” he murmurs, bringing up a hand to trace his fingers gently along your quickly bruising skin, “You won’t be able to see yourself in the mirror without knowin’ who you belong to. Show everyone who dares lay eyes on my girl that I’ve got you, that I’m the one keepin’ you safe and fed and fucked.”

“Yes… you are…” you whimper out complicitly into a soft cry when he bites your neck again, his hot mouth attaching like his life depends on it. 

“So you’re gonna be a good girl, yeah? Behave and listen to daddy’s rules?” He speaks breathlessly, his cock fully hard as he feels the power coursing through his veins, the evidence of it pressing firmly against your thighs. He feels you nod against where he rests his lips, but it’s not enough. 

“Say it, princess. Say ‘I’m a good girl, and I’ll behave and listen to daddy’s rules.’”

You gasp as his teeth sink into your flesh, as hard as they’ve gone yet, feeling nearly like they may have drawn blood. “I- I-“ you breathe out, clutching at his arm, digging your nails in. It only spurs him on, his lips dragging back just to suck the spot relentlessly. It brings tears to your eyes immediately, your mind only focused on the pain now. 

“Say. It.” Joel’s voice cuts through and your eyes flash open after a few tears roll down your cheeks. 

“I’m a good girl…” you whimper, voice cutting out into another cry as he assaults another spot on your neck.

“And?”

“I’m a good girl a-and I’ll behave and l-listen to daddy’s rules…” Your breath whooshes out as he stops, relief flooding your body when he places a light kiss on one of the sore, bruised spots. A few tears roll down your cheeks, spilling over from the plethora of them along your lower lids.

“Mmm, good girl,” he says more gently, pulling back to look over your face. He frowns, and it nearly startles you to see him have a look that isn’t that one of sick satisfaction that he’s worn so often. 

“When you’re daddy’s girl, you’re gonna be so well taken care of, I promise ya. I know you’re scared, and it ain’t easy when I’m bein’ so firm w’you. Just want you to understand…” he pauses, dragging a finger along your cheek, swiping a tear and glancing down at it glistening on his finger. His body is still close, pressed right against yours. 

“That I’m doin’ it for your own good. So you know I mean it all. I won’t hurt ya unless you disobey me, yeah? If you’re not a good girl, you’re gonna have some punishments. Do you understand?”

You nod hesitantly, your brows furrowed and trying to process all of the information he’s throwing at you. 

“Y’need some sleep, look at you,” he says with a shake of his head, taking in your disheveled state, swaying where you stand as a few more tears roll down your cheeks. He feels a pang spearing his heart at your weary, dejected stance, body trembling openly at his proximity. He knows he did this to you, made you this broken little bird he could grasp in his hands and crush with his words alone, but he did it for your own good. He tells himself this sentence for what feels like the millionth time, absolving his guilt in a single second. You need him, deserve the unrelenting care he’ll pour out once you fully give yourself over to him. Anytime now… with your cracks showing more and more, your desperation to please him not as well hidden as you might think.

 “You’ll feel better in the mornin’, hm?” Joel says when you don’t answer him.

You shrug slightly, keeping your shoulders rolled up, feeling defensive as Joel rests his fingers on your arm more gently now. “We’ll talk more then,” he says decidedly, making the decision for the both of you as he sidles up next to you and puts an arm around you, his hand resting on the small of your back.

You begin to walk nearly catatonically back towards the stairs with Joel’s guidance. His hands slide to your hips and squeeze as you move up the stairs in a daze, exhaustion overtaking you. You swear you’re tired down to your very cells, every piece of your being sapped and scraped thin right now. 

“Thank you,” you murmur in a whisper when Joel helps you shrug the blanket off of your shoulders, laying it tidily back on the chair where you’d found it. 

“You’re welcome,” he responds, kissing the top of your head. You’re moved to the bed, body soft and yielding for him to place you where he wishes, finding you a place wrapped right in his arms just as you were earlier.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” he whispers, lips flitting against your hair and cheek when he senses your tension. “Jus’ be good, don’t do that again, okay? Don’t wanna have to chain you to the bed while we sleep, would we?”

Your mouth sags open, chest pulling tight at his threat, the way it had rolled off his tongue like it was nothing, no humor or jesting behind it. When he’d said the word punishment he’d meant it in the most serious sense. Things like chaining you up, biting your neck until it was bruised, bleeding, and throbbing, and the likely long list of things he had lined up that you couldn’t even envision if you tried.

“N-no, you’ll never need to do that, I w-won’t…” you reply after composing yourself for a brief moment.

“Never say never,” Joel whispers with a conceited smirk. “You may find yourself askin’ me to do it someday, princess. Beggin’ me…”

You let out a breathy scoff of a laugh, mostly out of discomfort, but Joel hardly notices, busy tucking you into the crook of his neck as he puts an arm behind your head.

“You’ll see someday, babygirl, you’ll see… now let’s get some sleep.”

You stare into the dark of the room, head rising and falling with the movements of Joel’s chest while he falls back asleep. You hate that he smells good right now, that the hair of his chest feels so gorgeous and manly under your fingertips. You hate that you feel comfortable right now, safe, despite everything he’s done to you. You hate everything about all of it, but you don’t hate… him. It makes you sick, your stomach turning as you fight the urge to cry yet again. 

You start to think back to your backpack and boots, waiting for you by the door. Their enticing siren call is louder than ever, beckoning you away from here. 

You could learn to survive out there. You know you could. 

You peek up at Joel’s face again, willing yourself to read him, the same thoughts swirling through your head from earlier tonight. You slowly reach your hand up and touch the lines on his face with your fingertips - around his eyes, his forehead, his cheeks. Ever so gently you move along his face, and Joel’s mouth twitches as he sleeps, morphing into a soft smile. 

There he is. That is Joel. That has to be him. That soft smile, a sweet man who wants to care about you. That wants a companion, someone to spend his life with, not someone to hurt. 

You sigh and close your eyes, dropping your hand and shifting your body to mold even closer to his, finding comfort in his large, imposing form rather than fear right now.

Yes, you think as your eyes flutter and you drift off, you could learn. Maybe it would just be an entirely different set of lessons.

smother - part iv: surrender

dark!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: your education continues as joel tests more of your limits. 13.2k words (??? idek how that happened) chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI! noncon, dubcon - reader is consenting (or lack of saying no) but the syndrome is stockholming so its dubcon, coercion, reader is a virgin, big juicy age gap (reader is 19, joel is 55), ddlg (no infantilization of reader) daddy dom! joel, fingering, oral (f receiving), dick between the thighs sex but no penetration (lmfao idk what the hell to call that), use of chains to restrain reader, corruption kink, joel is just... not a nice guy even when he is acting sweet, if these darker tags aren't your cup of tea please keep scrolling! a/n: i know this was much longer between chapters than usual, we can thank seasonal depression for that one. and we can thank the same depression that this is a bit less combed through/edited than normal so i hope it turned out okay! thank you all for your patience as i work through this dark time of year, i'll be a bit slower on the next chapter as well but hopefully get it done soon! ❤️

You pick at your fingernails, hands held restlessly in front of your belly as you peer down from the top of the stairs. You’ve waited long enough in the bedroom after tossing and turning for the last hour in the empty bed, Joel long gone downstairs where you’ve been listening to his rustling around as he begins his day. You feel exposed in the light of day without any clothes on, trying to hide as much of yourself as possible as you wrap that same knit blanket from last night around your shoulders. 

“U-uh, Jo- sir? Excuse me?” you call out, stumbling along your words with the uncertainty of if they’re correct, if they’ll please Joel. “M-may I come downstairs?”

Joel appears at the bottom of the steps, dressed in a cozy green flannel and gray sweatpants. He looks brighter today, his face full of flushed color and his hair mussed, the few streaks of gray on display in the morning light spilling into the downstairs.

“Hey, sweetheart, ‘course. Come on down,” he says with a gesture of his hand towards the main living room. “Y’can put some clothes on too, ‘s a bit chilly today. We got a little snowfall last night.”

You try your damndest not to narrow your eyes at him and show your suspicion at his positive attitude, afraid he might still have any lingering feelings about last night. 

“Actually, left you somethin’ on the dresser, go on and throw that on f’me,” he adds on before turning away and heading out of sight, back to the kitchen. You can hear the sizzle of something on the stove in the distance, smell the aroma of coffee drifting towards you and your mouth waters. You pad back to the bedroom and see the choice of outfit Joel left out for you, and your lips part in shock.

You hold it up and gently run your hands along the delicate fabric - it’s a sheer, white nightgown with lace detailing towards the bottom. He was generous enough to leave you a pair of white panties much like the ones you had on yesterday, but you know even those will be on full display through the thin material. It slides through your fingertips as you tilt your head and inspect it, wondering how it would feel to wear something like this for Joel. Something… sexy. 

You realize that by wearing this, showing Joel that you’ll acquiesce to a new whim of his, you’re giving him that next taste of power, another tiny piece of you. 

But the soft femininity of the nightgown draws you in, never having owned or even seen anything like it before. You’re sliding it over your head and pulling the cotton panties up your legs before you can think about it any more, then daring to gaze at yourself in the mirror above the dresser. 

You look… pretty.

You inspect yourself closer with an inquisitive tilt of your head, taking it all in and smoothing your hands down the sides of where the dress meets you mid-thigh. Your nipples are erect, poking through the gown, nothing there to hide the curves of your breasts and hips - everything on display. You find a soft smile pulling at your lips before you can stop it until your eyes catch on your neck. Your gaze hardens and your face falls while you step closer to the mirror. You stretch your neck to the side, opening up your view to the myriad of red marks, some turned deep purple along with a hard, crusted spot where Joel had drawn blood and let it dry there overnight. The movement sends a pang of soreness through your neck and you delicately touch there, feeling the marks he’d left. 

Were they deserved? Had you needed to be punished? You’re not sure anymore, really. Joel has started to show you that the world has only been the small universe you’ve known, one where you were shielded, in a sense, from the world. Sure, you knew about the infected, about dangerous groups of people who wanted to hurt, kill, and steal, but there was so much more. So many nuances, all the little things. Like taking food in the middle of the night from a man’s fridge. Was it a crime punishable by… pain like this?

You avert your eyes from your neck, trying to get back the feeling you’d had when you initially saw yourself in this outfit, running your hand along the scoop neck collar and down your chest. You find yourself wondering if Joel will like it, if it’ll turn out like he’d envisioned when he chose it for you to wear. The thought travels down and settles in your belly - a warm, flourishing feeling.

When you enter the living room, Joel’s eyes are on you from the stove, a lingering, all-consuming gaze while he sweeps his eyes over the entirety of your body.

“Look at you,” he says, a smug smile curling his lips before he lazily pushes his spatula along the pan. “C’mere, princess,” Joel says, and you hesitate for only a moment, deciding to make your way over to him. He immediately wraps an arm around you, keeping the other stirring what you can now see are scrambled eggs in a skillet. Another one crackles on the next burner with nearly done bacon, brown and crispy, the smell alone nearly sending you to your knees. 

“Give me a kiss, darlin’,” Joel says, his eyes only showing signs of calm, both heavy-lidded and relaxed. Your lips part in surprise but you don’t move, surprised that he’s treating you so kindly after last night. You’d surely thought maybe he would punish you longer, have something more to say about your late night snacking antics. But he doesn’t, his hand only tightens on your shoulder as a warning, pulling you back to reality. You flutter your lashes and give him a soft smile before tilting your head up and lifting yourself on the balls of your feet to kiss him. His lips press into yours and he groans quietly to himself before pulling back and staring down at you, eyes fixated on where your breasts sit so visibly through your gown. 

“Like what I picked out for you?” he asks with a hopeful air, seeming unable to get enough of his current view. 

“Oh… yeah, it’s pretty,” you mumble. “Never worn something like this before. Or really seen clothes like this.”

“That so?” Joel asks curiously, glancing back at the eggs, still runny as he stirs them along. “Never owned any pretty things just for yourself?”

“We didn’t… er, we didn’t have clothes like this.” Modest was a word that you’d found used more often than not to describe the necessary clothing for a young woman like yourself. You recalled specific instructions being given out as you overheard the conversation when a small group went out on a supply run, getting some more summer clothing for the community. Modest. The word had stuck out to you, even if you’d never truly understood what it had to do with what any of you wore. You didn’t see the point when all you’d wanted was to just have clothing to wear, anything that made you comfortable. There had been a lot of things you failed to understand in all those days spent with them, and you found yourself missing your group less and less the more time you spent at Joel’s. As oxymoronic as it sounded, things felt free here. 

“Huh,” Joel huffs out, giving you a strange look, deep in thought for a moment. “Well, you feel good in it? Feel sexy for me?”

You flush warm and bite the inside of your lip. “Kind of…” you murmur, anxiously fidgeting your hands. 

“‘S’okay to feel sexy sometimes, y’know. You look pretty as a picture right now,” he says with a little appreciative click of his tongue, looking you over once more as you . “Alright, sit on down, sweetheart, breakfast is almost ready.”

You quietly sit at the table, observing him while he finishes cooking, watching him season the eggs and pull the bacon off onto plates for the two of you. 

“How’d you sleep, pretty girl?” Joel calls over his shoulder. You find yourself unable to answer as memories of last night flood you. Your hands sit folded timidly in your lap, your body rigid. He quirks a brow at your silence, clearly displeased with it as he walks over with a plate for each of you. A sense of dread fills you, your body gearing up for some form of pain he’ll inflict on you for not answering him. He gently sets the plate in front of you, food steaming hot and the aroma having you nearly need to catch your breath as your stomach rumbles.

Joel stands in front of you, tall and towering, searching eyes looking over your uneasy expression. He tips your head up to look at you better, a single finger curling under your chin. You can tell you look just as sullen as you feel, afraid of where this interaction may go, worried about saying or doing the wrong thing.

“Know I was a little rough last night, sweetheart. I got… worried, an’ even a guy like me gets scared sometimes. I thought you’d ran off when you weren’t next to me in bed. Now can you imagine how much that worried me?” 

You contemplate it for a moment, putting yourself in his shoes. Waking up in an empty bed expecting the girl who’d happened to try to run from you earlier that day to be there. You understand where Joel made the connection, felt that immediate panic that something precious to him had been lost. You are something precious to him, and for whatever reason that may be, you haven’t quite figured it out yet. 

“I- I can, I didn’t even think -“

“I know ya didn’t,” he says gently with an air of understanding. “Just guided by your hungry stomach, weren’t ya? It’s on me for lettin’ you go to bed without dinner, an’ I won’t be letting that happen again.” He speaks more softly, less of a gravel to his Southern twang this way as he strokes the side of your head, petting you lovingly. 

You feel a bit of ease wash over you, letting yourself relax a little at his touch. He understands, he didn’t mean to hurt you like that last night. He was just afraid. The thought comforts you and you let out a long breath, then give him a soft, close lipped smile and nod. 

“I won’t go looking for any middle of the night snacks again, promise.”

“Good girl,” Joel praises, returning your smile. “Still gonna make it up to ya. Can I hold you for a bit, explain some more? I know it was all a lot, my little sweet girl.” He caresses your cheek, his free hand grasping yours and guiding you up out of your chair. You’re tugged onto him as he sits down, your ass and thighs spread across his lap as he supports your back with his hand and forearm. 

“Now,” he starts, his dark eyes finding your still worried, tired ones. “I meant a lot of what I said last night, ‘bout there bein’ things you’ll have to do around here w’me. Bein’ good for me, or havin’ me punish you if you don’t behave. I wanna have a… special kinda relationship with you, sweetheart.” He pauses for a moment to gauge your reaction and you keep your eyes widened and curious, seeking more information in a world that is completely new to you. 

“Like… being your girlfriend, or something? That kind of special?” you ask timidly, feeling so embarrassingly and vastly out of the loop once again.

Joel surprises you with a soft chuckle, his chest shaking where you lean against it. “Kind of, darlin’. But it’s more than that. You’re my girl, not a girlfriend. I… would…” he takes a breath, clearly deciding exactly how to word what he wants to say. “You’d… belong to me. Be mine.”

You give a tilt of your head, trying to comprehend his desires for a quiet moment. 

“I’ll start simple for you - you call me those three names I mentioned, and I’ll be happy. You remember what they were?” 

“D-daddy, sir, and… master…” 

You can practically feel Joel’s cock twitch beneath you through his sweatpants and you notice his lips curl up devilishly. “Mhm.” He squeezes your back. “Do you want to call me those things? Does it make you feel good to hear yourself say it?”

“I don’t… know…” you admit. You felt it last night, the entire time Joel had referred to himself that way, the way it made your insides stir, something strange and primal deep inside of you feeling like it was waking up. 

“Try it out another time, see how it feels.” He smiles as he waits, his head lolled to the side with a soft grin. 

“Um… daddy…” you say quietly, almost cringing at how awkward it feels on your tongue. His brows go up a little, urging you on in an encouraging, non-judgemental way.  “I’m… I’m sitting on daddy’s lap…?” You suddenly feel so small, so vulnerable as the words spill out more naturally, finding them sitting comfortably in the room with the two of you. 

Joel’s face lights up a bit, his eyes swirling with excitement and pride. “That’s right - you are, princess,” he says, as enthusiastic as you’ve ever heard him. “Good job.”

“It was a little easier that time, b-but I’m not sure if I like it.” 

“That’s okay, we’ll work on it,” Joel says, giving your cheek a loving pinch. “You’re gonna love it - love the way it makes you feel to be daddy’s girl, be proud to do everything your daddy wants you to.” He snuggles you closer with excitement as he speaks, clearly lost in thought about the day those words become true.

Your face immediately shows off your apprehension. You just blink contemplatively, and choose your next words carefully. “H-how do you know?” you ask, swallowing the warning lump in your throat that tells you not to question him.

Joel smiles vacantly, but his eyes start to show a hint of care behind them. “I know girls like you. You’re one of the special ones. You’re meant for this, sweetheart. Meant to jus’ be taken care of, meant to… be a good girl. Can tell you’re meant for that, that you crave it. That it gives you a funny feelin’ to think of callin’ me sir or master. Right in here…” Joel says, tracing a teasing finger down your stomach to the waistband of your panties, swirling it on your mound. You feel a flare of anger quickly pulse through you that he’s right, that it does make you feel special, makes your body tingly in the same way it had last night when Joel touched you there.

You simply feel your body flush warm at his speech, wanting to deny it, but finding that you’re not able to, that something about him having you completely disarmed right now. 

“I- I don’t know… maybe…”

He shakes his head calmly. “No maybes, sweetheart. I can see it. You want it. It’s okay, nothin’ to be ashamed of, now. Some girls just need a guide, someone to claim ‘em and keep ‘em. Need a master and a daddy to answer to, and that’s jus’ fine and normal that you’re one of ‘em.”

You search the depths of your mind for an answer, to begin to understand how he knows that. How he seems so damn sure of it as he prattles on. Is there some sign? Something that practically screams that you’re that type of girl?

“Why? Why do I need that and other girls don’t?”

“So many questions, baby,” Joel says with another little smile. “You’re jus’ a little lost in life, honey, and I’ve got experience for the both of us. I want to help you.”

“I never had…” you start, biting your lip in trepidation. “Nobody ever tried to help me like this before, really. Not teaching me real things.”

He nods in understanding. “I’ll teach you everythin’ you want honey, but keep you safe. Some things you’re better off lettin’ a man do, so I don’t have to worry about you, mkay?” He thumbs your cheek quickly with a small pinch and you nod for him in response. 

“O-okay, yeah,” you say, not necessarily feeling committal about it, but starting to wonder if Joel does have a point. You need what he’s offering - shelter and food - and want all the rest - love, affection, intimacy, and more of however the hell that orgasm worked last night. You definitely want more of that.

“Wh-what else do I need to know?” you ask, feeling a bit more bold. Joel’s look is one of surprise and satisfaction, a glow of pride on his face as he sees you becoming increasingly curious on how to be his perfect little girl. 

“First of all, use those names. Always. Call me Joel and we’ll have trouble, unless I tell ya it’s okay. Secondly, what I say goes. You’re here to do as I please, so if you second guess daddy, he’s not going to be very happy, right? I always know what’s right and best for you.”

Your mind spins, trying to create a mental list based on what he’s saying so far. “I- can I… I can’t question it, even if it feels wrong?”

Joel gives you a contemplative look while his eyes harden a bit. “Know it might be hard, but I don’t wanna feel like you don’t trust me or y’don’t think I know how to take care of you. It’ll hurt daddy’s feelings, see? And I don’t wanna have to punish you.”

You cast your eyes down, feeling sullen all over again, your heart starting to beat a more sickly feeling pace inside your chest. What the hell were you getting into, and why did it sound even mildly appealing? Something about his tone, so smooth and caring right now, drew you right in and felt like a soft caress all over your entire body. You feel… held, cared for, looked out for. 

“I- I don’t want to be punished, please…” You beg quickly as you wince a little, recalling the previous night of Joel’s relentless, hot mouth all over your neck. He rubs your back in pacifying circles, trying to immediately calm you.

“And you won’t, so long as you’re a good girl. You be a good pet f’me and I shouldn’t need to. But sometimes it’s gonna happen, baby, you’ll talk back or do somethin’ and daddy will have to remind you how to be good.”

“A… pet…” you mumble with furrowed brows, unable to focus on much else he said other than that one word. 

“Yes, sugar, my pet,” he replies matter-of-factly. “It’s a thing of love ‘n care, not a bad thing. ‘Cause you’re gonna be obedient, and I’ll take good care of you. Ain’t that right?”

The inside of your cheek starts to feel raw from the way you’ve been chewing on the skin there this entire time, trying to dispel the anxious energy that relentlessly surges through you. You know Joel is expecting an answer, a confirmation, and you would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want to give it to him. A resounding yes, just to see what it would feel like. To give in and feel your worries melt away, to learn under his hand, to live in this world he’s describing to you.

“Th-that’s right.” 

Joel’s eyebrow shoots up even further, and you realize that maybe you’ve surprised more than yourself with the way you’d answered him. That you are finally giving in, opening yourself up a little bit more. Joel just blinks at you a moment, then draws his attention to your neck, reaching up to gingerly touch the marks he’d left there. 

“Mm… beautiful…” he says appreciatively, ignoring the way you wince and inhale sharply at the pain. “I know I was rough, but you look so beautiful as mine, all marked up like this. Ain’t a person out there wouldn’t know who you belong to…” Joel muses on, lost in his own world for a moment. When his eyes drift to yours again, he finds them watery, the fearful tears having made their way back. 

“‘S’okay, sweetheart.” He moves his fingers from your neck to brush along your hair. “Let’s just eat. Then I’ve got somethin’ to show you.”

Joel kept you in your thin gown, but stuffed you into one of his large winter coats and had you don thick wool socks and your boots before heading outside. He pulled a beanie over your head, looking at you with a look of satisfaction, muttering something about how you should be warm enough now. You wrap the jacket tightly around yourself, the thick, flannel lining a godsend on this particularly cold morning. Joel had been right - a new layer of snow glistened and gleamed in the bright, clear, winter sun.

“Your hand, sweetheart,” Joel commanded, reaching out his own, palm open to you. You reach forward and let his warm hand envelop yours before he trudges along, rounding towards the back of the cabin. You realize you haven’t been back here yet, or even thought much about the yard, never saw it from the windows. You suppose you had been preoccupied the last few days.

Joel leads you to a patch of land free from trees. There are wooden boxes, mostly empty or patchy at best with the promise of growth once the weather changes. You’d recognize this setup anywhere, and you’re taking a moment to process it when Joel speaks first.

“My garden.”

“Y-you have a garden?” you ask, surprised. You hadn’t really seen Joel as the type to tend a garden, to work delicately like this with his hands. Those fists have seen far too many fights, have too many calluses and aches to be thought of as delicate.

“Mhm,” he says. He moves to stand behind you, his hands snaking around your torso and under your jacket, landing on your lower stomach where he threads his fingers together and holds on tightly. You’re pulled against him, your back flush with his chest, and above all the other reasons, you don’t mind one bit as his warmth radiates onto you, keeping your teeth from chattering. “Keeps me provided for in between visits to town. Also trade some of my things I grow here w’ those folks.”

“Hmm,” you murmur, looking out at the expansive garden and the view beyond. It’s beautiful here, breathtaking even. The backyard of the cabin is clear of the surrounding forest, giving way to gorgeous mountain views in the distance. Covered in snow and pines as far as the eye can see, you truly are all alone up here. All alone with Joel. 

“You like to garden, sweetheart?” he asks, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. 

You shrug but can feel your eyes starting to sparkle the tiniest bit, a life behind them you’d maybe thought was gone. You’ve always loved growing things, especially in your last community, you’d gardened frequently and relished in all the provisions you’d been able to gather for the group. It was one of the few things you'd ever felt accomplished at, and you craved the usefulness of providing from things you had a hand in growing. You had to admit to yourself that the idea of having your own personal garden here didn’t sound like the worst thing.

“Yeah, it’s nice. Always liked growing stuff,” you answer him, throwing him a soft smile over your shoulder. He wraps his arms a little bit tighter and brings his mouth closer to your ear. His stubble brushes your neck and you shudder, flashing back to the way it had felt last night, both the good and the bad. The pleasure and the pain his mouth had given you.

Joel hums pleasantly behind you. “This is all mine, and all yours too. Got everything we need right here. Want ya to help out if you want to, only if you want to. Don’t have to lift a finger if you don’t want, I’m the one takin’ care of you, sugar.”

“N-no…” you murmur quickly. “I like gardening. I don’t want to just… do nothing,” you tell Joel.

“Promise y’won’t be doin’ nothin’. Be busy bein’ my perfect little pet,” he teases, his fingers flirting with the waistband of your panties through the thin dress. You shudder as your skin tingles there, your body suddenly hot despite the way the cold air has been biting at you since you’d stepped outside. You can feel that he’s getting hard behind you, pressing his hips right into your ass as his fingers start to gather your dress up from the bottom enough to slip his hand underneath. He runs up your thigh, burying his hand between your legs and cupping your sex, letting out a sigh. His other hand stays firmly on your stomach, keeping you pressed to him.

“Oh,” he tuts, his hand feeling that you’re already obviously damp. “Jus’ bein’ around me makes you wet, does it? Can’t help but remember how daddy took care of you last night? Want some more, my little pet?”

Your eyes squeeze shut for a moment when his fingers deftly work in soft strokes, trying to break you down, make you answer him. They travel up your clothed slit, relishing in how you already start to weep for him at just the slightest touch.

“I know you do, tell daddy you wanna feel good, c‘mon.”

Your breathing quickens as he shows no sign of letting up. His fingers start to push the fabric aside, burying themselves underneath your panties and getting his calloused pads right onto your clit. You sigh, that heavenly sense of warmth you’d been craving again already spreading from where he’s touching. 

“Yes,” you whisper quietly, your head falling back the slightest bit. “I do…”

“Say it loud, daddy needs to hear you.”

“Want… to feel good…” Your breathing hitches as he puts more pressure, circling your now throbbing clit. 

“Who do you want to make you feel good?” Joel asks impatiently, his voice still keeping its usual control as he speaks into your ear. 

“Daddy…” you breathe out, back arching, sending your ass rutting into his hard cock. 

“Fuck,” Joel mumbles under his breath. “That’s right. And daddy is the only one who can make you feel good, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, eyes rolling back as he rubs on your sensitive bundle of nerves a little faster. A tiny whimper slips out as Joel slips his fingers down through your slickness and then back to your clit, and you feel all the warmth you’re pouring out for him. You’d say anything he wanted you to in the moment when everything he does feels this incredible. You don’t know how he does it, fills you up with that tingling sensation so quickly, pulling taut and pleasant in your core. “You are.”

Joel uses his free hand to spin you around to face him, his other hand tugging your underwear down in a sudden urgency. His eyes have changed their shade, ferocious and primitive as he licks his lips. His body slinks down in front of you, getting onto his knees, the only sounds in the still winter air are his legs crunching into the snow along with both of your panting breaths. 

He groans out a hungry sound, finishing shimmying your underwear down your legs, letting them pool at your ankles, stretched wide by your stance and your heavy, lace-up boots. His head is under your nightgown in an instant, the view from your angle just his dark curls pressing against the sheer fabric, the only thing you can feel is his hot, needy breath puffing against your bare cunt. 

“J- What’re you doing? We- we’re outside…”

You hear a small sound of annoyance from under your chemise. “Nobody around to see us, darlin’, ‘n I told you not to question me, didn’t I? Know you’re learnin’, but your first lesson is that I’ll take you whenever I damn well please. Now daddy’s hungry, sugar, he wants to taste you and you’re gonna let him,” Joel snips, glaring up at you, his face thinly veiled but you can see the displeasure in his tightly drawn expression, lines more on display when he’s irritated like this.

“You’re going to… down there?” you ask in shock, realizing his mouth is so close to your most intimate area, that he was about to… put it there. Your lips sit parted in equal surprise and anticipation, his breath alone tickling along your wetness and sending you shuddering already.

Joel laughs, a hand wrapping around the back of your thigh and squeezing. “God,” he chuckles, “Can’t believe you’ve never had your pretty little pussy eaten before, sweet girl. What a fuckin’ treat f’me.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Jus’ enjoy… let me make you feel good, let me show you…” Joel murmurs, turning his face back down and pressing it between your legs, his nose nudging right into your folds. You gasp a little, body stiff and tightening up in shock. 

“Shh, be a good girl and open these legs f’me,” he coos, physically pushing on your thigh, sending you stumbling a little, your stance widening. Joel dives in immediately, licking a fat stripe up your cunt, and you choke on air, a loud gasp echoing off into the trees.

“Oh my god.” You start to pant as Joel’s tongue works on you, the tip of it working slow ministrations through your slit before he starts to move more eagerly, lapping at you with the sounds of a ravenous man. His hands grip tight to the backs of your thighs now, squeezing tightly, tight enough to bruise, you think, as he pulls your hips into his mouth.

“Thas’ it, princess, gimme all those nasty little juices, god, you’re fuckin’ soaked,” Joel says between your thighs, licking and sucking deeper into your folds, the noises so lewd and filthy that it turns you on even more. It all feels so wrong to hear them, to feel the things you’re feeling with this man.

The warmth of his mouth mixed with the cold air that breezes through your open jacket, right to where Joel relentlessly fucks you with his tongue sends your nipples hardening against your dress. You feel like you’re going insane - your body hot and cold, sweat breaking out and instantly drying, your knees starting to shake as pleasure rocks through you. 

“I- I can’t- stand… it’s too…” you cry out through your moans and whimpers. Joel’s hold only tightens, his shoulders start to press against your knees, letting them buckle slightly on top of his broad form.

“Soak my fuckin’ face, c’mon, and say my name, say my fuckin’ name,” Joel blurts out, feeling how tense and tight you are, feeling how you’re falling apart by the second, so close to giving it all to him. He sucks hard on your clit, sending you yelling out, the hot coil inside of you unfurling in a powerful snap, your body collapsing downwards, digging your knees into Joel’s shoulders as your moans turn into a pathetic, keening sound, loud and sharp.

“Ohhhhh…” you cry out, “Daaaaaddy, please, daddy…” You find your mind blinded by the pleasure, his new title tumbling from your lips without a second thought. Joel grunts his loud approval, rocking your hips into his face as you ride out your high. Your obscene moans and cries continue to echo off, giving them a strange power in the vastness of the wilderness, only serving to urge you on. Your body shakes and sweats as you reach your highest high, vision white and limbs tingling while you relish in every millisecond of it. 

Your entire body slumps a moment later, Joel’s face pulling away just enough to let you stumble into the snow, knees hitting the cold powder and bringing you back to reality as much as is possible in your current state. You gulp in air as you come down, and Joel’s arms immediately wrap around you, pulling your bare knees off the cold earth and onto his lap.

“There we go, there we go… that was real good, sweetheart,” Joel praises as he holds you, letting you close your eyes for a moment and steady your thundering heartbeat. You rest your head on his shoulder until you’ve gained a grip on your surroundings, slowly opening your eyes and looking at Joel. His face shows pride above all else as he smiles at you before his lips find your chilled cheek and plant a kiss there.

“Such a naughty girl for me, ain’t you?” he teases, gripping the back of your neck with his hand, wrapping his fingers around it possessively, squeezing just enough to remind you who’s in control.

“What? I- was I?” you ask hurriedly, eyes going a little wide with concern. Was that a good thing? Was it how loud you were? Was it something you did wrong?

Joel huffs a little laugh as he reads your spiraling panic and squeezes the back of your neck. “Jus’ teasin’ you, darlin’. But you should be naughty, only f’me though. A girl who’s naughty when we’re alone like this, but a good, sweet girl ‘round everyone else.”

Another lesson. Another mental note to add to the list of things you need to do to stay in Joel’s favor. You pray this comes easier to you than you think it might, that you can avoid his wrath, that you can… be good for him. You find yourself caught by the thought, realizing that it’s exactly what he wants from you, everything he’s been asking of you.

You simply nod and give him the first quick and agreeable answer that pops into your mind. “Yes… sir.”

“Christ are you learnin’ quick…” Joel marvels. “Good girl.” He shifts and helps you to your feet, drawing you close again, like he can’t stand to have even a few inches of space between the two of you. He dusts the snow off of you and pulls your panties back up, settling them snugly on your waist again.

“Now, you ready to see the stable?”

“Stable?!” you blurt out, eyes dancing suddenly with excitement. “You have a horse?”

Joel grins more sweetly at you, loving the innocent pleasure you find in the little things. “‘Course. How else ‘m I supposed to get there and back from town? Come ‘n see for yourself,” he says, grabbing your hand again and leading you to a wooden structure along the outskirts of the property, but not far from the garden. It’s tucked away, and you hadn’t quite noticed it at first, too busy taking in all the possibilities the garden had held for you. He brings you inside and you hear the immediate quiet but unmistakable whinnies of a horse. 

“Oh, she’s gorgeous…” you exclaim quietly as you lay your eyes on a mostly white horse, speckled with gray-ish brown patches and spots. Her maine is a dirty cream color, and she looks at you with her dark, beady eyes as you approach. She gives off a gentle but powerful energy, something you’ve always loved about horses ever since you could remember. You walk a few more steps into the barn, approaching her with reverence and caution.

Joel hands back, standing with his arms crossed, observing you. “This is Willow,” he tells you.

“Can I - er, touch her?” you ask shyly, looking over your shoulder at Joel as you ask him. Your hands itch with the urge to reach forward towards the gorgeous mare.

“‘Course. She’s all yours now, too, princess. Thought you might like helpin’ take care of her.”

“Really?” you ask, immediately regretting showing him such a sliver of your excitement, but you’re unable to hold back as your hand reaches out for Willow and gives her a testing pat on the side of her neck, running your hands in strokes as soon as she responds well to it. She’s a sweet girl, you can see, a gentle horse, and you can’t help but think that it seems to be the perfect companion for Joel’s travels based on what he wants from you. 

Willow’s mouth tickles along your hand when you bring it close and you let out a giggle. “She’s real sweet,” you say, peering over at Joel. He gives an affirming mhm and nods, keeping his eyes on you with that soft smile he only seems to have when he’s watching you like this. It’s a look of half wonder and half greediness, the hint of hunger behind the smile always unsettling you the tiniest bit even in a nice moment.

“We’ll take her for a ride together another day, when it warms up a bit,” Joel tells you, stepping over to give Willow a pat with you. The horse cozies up to Joel’s hand, showing her long built up trust for him and his care. 

You can’t help but picture yourself, one day hopefully having that same level of trust for Joel, snuggling up to him without a care in the world, letting him fulfill his promise to take care of you. You envy Willow so much in this moment, so unaware of the inner turmoil you’ve been facing, the push and pull to trust in this hand the universe dealt you. 

“Let’s head back, don’t want y’to catch cold, sweetheart,” Joel says, interrupting the way you’re thoughtfully petting along Willow’s neck. You look at him and nod, letting him take your hand for the third time now, letting him be exactly what he wants for that moment - your protector and your guide.

“Got to talk to you about somethin’, princess,” Joel says once you two are back inside. He’s got you unrobed back down to just your gown, telling you to leave the thick socks on while you warm up. He tosses a few fresh logs into the wood burning fireplace and then sits you down on the couch next to him, tightly gripping your hands in between his. 

“I’ve got to go out huntin’ today. Normally wouldn’t want to leave you so soon, but I’d planned on it ‘fore you even blessed me by showin’ up.” The heavy pause he leaves in the wake of his explanation has your stomach starting to sink.

“Way I see it, is I got two options here. Cause one of ‘em ain’t you comin’ with me. It’s too dangerous out there, and my sweet girl still needs her rest after all you been through. Either gonna leave you to it, trustin’ you enough that you won’t try’n sneak off while I’m gone, which…” He takes a deep breath. “If I’m honest with ya, sweetheart, I don’t. Not yet, at least.”

“N-n-no… you c-can! I won-” you spout off quickly, and Joel squeezes your hands before bringing a finger to your lips, cutting you off.

“Don’t interrupt me when I’m speakin’, now, have some manners,” Joel says sternly, tapping your cheek twice before bringing his hand down to your thigh. You sit frozen by his tone now, feeling your body wanting to tremble at the flash of darkness in his eyes.

“The other option is I’ve got a special setup for my girl to keep her safe and sound while I’m gone.” He starts to smile, lips spreading into a devious grin, sending your heart bottoming out into your stomach. You sit completely stiff with fear as he slides off the couch and pads over to a nearby closet behind the couch. He rummages for only a moment before you hear the clink of metal on metal as he walks back over holding what he’s feeling so smug about.

A chain. You start to feel dizzy, your brain suddenly feeling stuffed full of fuzz as you shake your head in protest.

“No… no… you don’t have to… Jo- daddy, please…” You cry out the words, feeling bile rising up in your stomach. Did he really think he was going to chain you up for hours while he was out hunting? Did he actually think that was a good way to keep you safe? 

“My sweet princess,” Joel coos, swiping the back of his knuckles along your cheek in a loving manner. You flinch and he clicks his tongue at your sudden unwillingness and disobedience. “It’s not a punishment. You haven’t done anythin’ wrong. Just can’t take the risk now that I’ve got you, honey. Think of it this way - this is for your own good. Can’t have you gettin’ any ideas while I’m gone and makin’ a choice you’ll regret, like runnin’ off from here, yeah?”

You shake your head again, tears pricking at your eyes and starting to fall rapidly. “I… please… you don’t have to.”

“Baby, baby, baby…” Joel says softly, bending down to bring himself to eye level with you. “I do, though. You know I do.” 

You feel yourself losing resistance, a tiredness sweeping over your body, one that runs deep to your bones. You bow your head away from Joel’s gaze, holding your wrists out in front of you in a sign of submission, as if to say slap the handcuffs on already. Before you lose any more of your dignity, before you lose your entire mind. Joel chuckles, and you flash your eyes up to him, a surly gaze from underneath your eyebrows.

“Not gonna handcuff you, darlin’. That wouldn’t be very comfortable, would it?” he says, sounding too jovial for the current situation. He slowly pushes your wrists back down to your lap. “No, no, none of that.”

You just blink, waiting for him to go on. He pulls to the end of the chain and holds up a singular cuff, black leather with a lock on it. “Your ankle, sweets. Not gonna leave you unable to do what y’need to do.”

The sight of the ankle cuff makes you sick all over again, a sob bursting out of you as your chest heaves and body shakes a little with it. “Please…”

“Now, I’m not gonna have you keep questionin’ me. We both know why I’m doin’ this, and when you fight me, makes me want to trust even less that I can leave the house without you chained to the damn floor. Don’t you think?” He sighs out a staccato breath in irritation, running a tired hand through his beard. “Maybe you should be grateful daddy ain’t makin’ you come out to trudge through the cold with infected ‘n worse out there jus’ to put dinner on the damn table for us.” His hand wraps around the back of your head and threads tightly through your hair, tugging hard. He brings his face close, smashing his nose into yours with a tame snarl, but a snarl nonetheless. “You know it’s for the best, don’t you? That I don’t wanna hurt you?”

You close your eyes for a moment, the last of your tears sliding by before you nod. “I know…” you mumble. And you do know. You know that Joel is all about protection, no matter what it takes, no matter the cost. He will keep what’s his, he will cover it with his own life and protect it. You are that to him now, what he has to pour this innate ability he has into. 

“I know, who?”

“I know… master…” You feel your pulse in every nook and cranny of your body, the thumping leading right between your legs where Joel’s face had been buried not even an hour before. You’d let him do that again right now if he was willing, the thought of belonging to your master sending a little throb to your clit that you wanted to deny so badly, but couldn’t. You found yourself turned on despite your tears, despite the emotional and physical pain you were being subjected to right now. You’d still let Joel have his way with you, chained to the floor, chained to anywhere in this house. The realization makes you sick, biting back a gag that instantly swallows down into desire, your thighs clenching to try to hide the way you weep for him right now.

The relieved whoosh of air out of Joel’s mouth hits you and he tugs your head back, staring at you with a satisfied glow to his face now. “That’s a good girl, knew you’d see it like I do. Now, I gotta get movin’, so up we go.”

He tugs you onto your feet, bending down to strap the leather cuff around your ankle now, and you look down to see him locking it in place, a tiny key in his hand that you can only assume he’ll be taking along with him. 

“Not too tight?” he asks, and you shake your head. 

“Words, please, darlin’,” he chastises you, tugging on the cuff to test it without glancing up at you. 

“N-no, sir.”

“Good. Now jus’ got to bolt it in over here, ‘n you’re all set,” Joel explains, walking across the living room to a spot next to the television stand you hadn’t even noticed before. There’s a small metal outcropping, just a simple loop that’s built into the floor, something you’d likely miss if you weren’t looking for it. Joel clips and locks the other end of the chain into it, fastened with the same key that locks your cuff. He slips the tiny key into his pocket and pats the spot in his pants, looking up to smile at you. 

“Safe and sound,” he says, and you assume he’s referring to both you and the key. You feel such indescribable, raw emotions coursing through you right now as you take a step and feel the heaviness of the chain, hear the clink of it along the floor while you start to move, tracking Joel as he begins to flit around the room.

“Now, ‘s long enough to reach the little bathroom down here, and the kitchen. So you’ll be able to do everythin’ you need while I’m gone.” Joel speaks to you as he throws his coat and boots on before going back to that same closet and pulling out a bow and arrow. He sets it by the door next to his rifle and backpack, completing his hunting setup.

“Shouldn’t be too long, but y’know how huntin’ goes.” He speaks so casually, like he’s forgotten just what he did to you moments ago. But you figure this gave him a sense of calm, knowing you can’t leave him behind now, even if you wanted to. He steps into the kitchen and you slink over his way, wincing at the metallic noise you make in your wake. He pulls a glass out from the cabinetry and fills it with water, then opens another cabinet with stores of food. He sets a mason jar with what looks like strips of jerky in it on the table along with the glass and looks to you with his hands folded across his chest. 

“Only have two rules while I’m gone, nice ‘n easy for you.” He steps closer, starting to close the gap between the two of you. “One. You drink this water while I’m gone, eat some of this. Gotta take care of yourself.”

“O-okay,” you reply with a nod, thinking it sounds easy enough. Joel is right in front of you now, hovering above as he slips a possessive, tight hand around your waist. 

“An’ two… You’re on your knees when I get back. On your knees to welcome me home, welcome daddy back.” His haughty smile makes you ache in places you hadn’t even realized existed deep inside of you, the surety he has behind that grin that you’ll do exactly as he’s asking.

You simply stare back at him with pouting, parted lips, not sure how Joel continues to surprise you with his requests and rules at this point. It isn’t a difficult rule to follow, no, but it seems to serve to strip away a tiny bit more of your dignity, something already hanging on by a thread. 

“Got it?” Joel asks, leaning closer as a hand plants itself along your cheek. 

“Yes,” you say, swallowing hard. “Yes, daddy,” you add,  quickly correcting yourself. 

“That’s a good girl,” Joel says pleasantly with a softer smile. “Now I’ll need a big ol’ kiss to keep me goin’ out there, so c’mere.” Joel pulls you in, warmth against warmth as he tucks his head down and captures your lips. His kiss is greedy and lustful as his tongue delves into your mouth. He groans and licks along your lower lip, sending you groaning as well. Your arms reach up slowly and touch his waist, wanting to feel closer to him. Something about the way Joel kisses you makes you

Your tongue mimics Joel’s, lapping into his mouth with more precision than you’d had last night, slowly feeling your way along his tongue with yours as you two kiss over and over again, open mouthed and needy. Joel tears himself back, panting with dark eyes boring into you. His hands are squeezing tightly onto you, unable to let you go just yet. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, “Can’t wait to get back t’you.” 

Joel is going insane. Not like it was news to him, but he can barely focus as his feet pound down into the snow with each of his steps, his bow and arrow held in both hands as he trudges along. Two misses already, two fuck ups, completely his own fault as both rabbits he’d spotted got away from him. Shit aim and shit focus seemed to be following him today, and he knew the reason why. You. Just the simple thought of you, standing with a subtle pout on your perfect lips as he’d closed the door behind him, taking one last look at the way his cuff latched onto your ankle was making him feel almost too much. Like a man unhinged, willing to do anything to keep his prize. 

Knowing that you were waiting safe and sound, bound to the floor of his cabin both set him both at ease and ablaze with the dirty, depraved thoughts soon outweighing the sweeter ones. He pictures how you’ll look when he gets back - on your knees for him, wearing nothing but the see through fabric calling itself a dress. He nearly snorts to himself as he thinks it, how easy it was to get you to wear it this morning, how you’d seemed to enjoy wearing something sexy. He knew he had to find more, dress you up in every similar style he could find, never tiring of the task. 

Joel’s cock is becoming painfully hard now, finding in his mind your innocent little face dressed in the sexiest outfits, spread out willingly on his bed, maybe chained up for good measure anyways. Just because he can. Because you’d do it, and try to ignore the way it made you feel deep inside to have a man like Joel doing it to you. He smirks to himself as he comes across one of his traps, saying silent praises to himself that he’d set these up in the woods surrounding his cabin. He takes out the poor rabbit that had met its end in the trap and resets it before moving on. 

He has to focus. One rabbit was good for another round of stew tonight, maybe, but you deserved everything. You deserved a man bringing you home an entire deer, a feast to be had after he made you come so hard you saw stars. After he treats you like the princess you are and makes you feel so good and safe in his arms. Then he’d cook for you, filling your belly and getting you strong again, making you trust him even more. His mind is clawing at him with the thoughts, a renewed sense of purpose and focus as the daydreams invade his mind and swarm around completely unchecked. 

You could be his purpose, his reason to fight this hard for food and all the nice things that this shit world still had to offer. He’d do it for you. Everything for you. 

He’s managed to pass the time with thought after thought of you, finally landing a deer on top of the rabbit he’d found in the trap, dragging them both back with him to start doing the dressing and bring home his prizes to you. Where you waited for him. Chained up, likely anticipating him with baited breath, not knowing what awaited you when he arrived home. He liked keeping you on your toes for now, making you understand who calls the shots, who needs to be obeyed. Until you did it completely on your own, which Joel felt a surge of confidence flow through him knowing that someday you would. That day felt sooner than he’d expected, the way you’d already seemed to be caving to his whims, calling him his special names. It made his heart beat a little quicker, soar with an unexpected lightness and care.

He hums pleasantly to himself as he dresses the deer in another smaller shed he’d constructed in a spot near where the cabin’s yard met the woods. He found it best to keep the more dirty parts of hunting separate from home, and he smiles to himself to think you’d likely appreciate that too. 

He can see the cabin now in the near distance, smoke coming out of the chimney, warm and inviting. Home. A place he hadn’t always referred to as such, but now with you there, with someone to come home to, it felt much more like it.

Joel’s boots thump up the steps, knocking snow off of them as he goes. You hear the noise from inside, your heart suddenly racing at his approach. You glance around, as if you’ve left something askew that he might notice and chastise you for when he comes in. You rush as close as you can to the door, making sure you’re in sight before you sink to your knees as the doorknob turns. You cast your eyes downward in a split decision hunch that Joel would prefer that, and his haughty huff of breath sounds pleased at the sight as he enters. Relief floods you before you hear his booming voice. 

“Look at me, sweetheart. Let me see those pretty eyes.”

When you look up, the sight of Joel is surprisingly a welcome one to you. He looks a bit windswept as he shuts the front door behind him, his cheeks and nose colored a bit rosier from the cold air, his graying hair a little less tame than usual. You smile genuinely at him before you can realize it, and he returns the look with a cocked eyebrow. He’s stopped in the doorway, further away from where you can reach, practically already pushing the chain to its limit with where you’re kneeled right now. 

You pray silently to yourself that he’s noticed everything - how you drank the entire glass of water and ate just as he’d requested, how you’ve fallen to the floor so quickly that your knees already ache. He doesn’t need to know that you’d pulled and yanked the chain for a good thirty minutes after he’d left, testing its endurance until you’d exhausted yourself. You can see him taking in those details, his lip twitching upwards when he sees the evidence of your obedience on the kitchen table.

“Crawl to me, baby, ‘n say hello,” he finally says after a few tense, silent beats.

You falter for a quick moment before placing your hands on the floor and crawling. The chain goes taut after only a few paces, tugging you back by your ankle. You pause and glance at him with pleading eyes, but Joel just remains standing in the same spot with his arms folded.

“Keep tryin’, daddy wants to see how bad you want to greet him,” he says smugly, tucking his arms across his chest a little tighter. You pull forward, the chain rattling and straining as you scratch your fingers along the floor, trying to wrench yourself forward even a tiny bit more to do as he’s asking. You’re practically laying on the floor now, writhing forward and stretching yourself out to show him how close you can get. It makes you feel completely demeaned, the way Joel continues to watch you expectantly and then lets out a chuckle at your wasted efforts. “Desperate looks good on you, darlin’,” he says coldly before taking the steps forward to reach your outstretched hands. 

Joel then surprises you by crouching down, knees popping on the way before he’s squatting in front of you. His fingers tilt your head up by the chin before he leans in to kiss you. You catch the smell of the cold air on him mixed with his heady, manly musk and the unmistakable scent of hunting, of blood and death. You notice his fingers are dirty, speckled with blood as they wrap around your face and bring you in to kiss him. He hums pleasantly into your mouth before noticing your hesitation.

“I know, daddy’s all dirty, ain’t he. Should get cleaned up ‘fore I do all the things I wanna do to you,” Joel says, leaning his forehead on yours.

“T-thank you,” you murmur, for a reason unbeknownst to yourself. You’re thanking him for showering for you, for allowing you to sit on your knees in front of him, begging for attention like a dog who is tired of its leash. And yet, the words came out naturally, like you owed them to him.

“Let’s conserve water today, y’can hop in with me,” he says airily with a wink, fishing in his pocket for the key to your freedom before moving behind you and unlocking the ankle cuff. It comes free and you feel a rush of air enter you, like you’d been holding your breath this entire time, just seeing if you could make it through this test in one piece. You feel your entire body sag a little bit in response, your hands planted firmly on the floor as you stay on all fours. 

“Thank you,” you say again, just as quiet and mousy, making sure he sees your appreciation for taking the cuff off, for keeping you safe while he was gone. Joel steps in front of your view again, looking down on you from his towering position.

“This ol' setup knocked some manners into you, I see. Polite little princess,” Joel teases with a humored raise of his eyebrows. “No funny business while I was gone?”

You shake your head, hoping it wasn’t too quickly to raise suspicion. “No sir,” you reply, thinking about the fact that Joel doesn’t need to know you were too scared to even try screaming. You were desperate for it, desperate to let some of this pent up emotion out of your system. But you had no idea how far he’d gone, how much the sound may travel, and had instead settled on whimpering quietly to yourself the minute he’d left the cabin. 

Joel helps lift you to your feet, cradling you against his chest for a moment. “Get a reward for how good you were today.” He smiles, stepping away to the freezer to deposit his spoils before grabbing your hand and leading you upstairs. You trail behind mindlessly, in a fog as Joel starts the shower, commands you to lift your arms and slips your dress over your head, then gets to work on your panties before stripping himself down.

You try not to stare, to take in his fully naked form in much better light than you’d seen it last night. Joel notices your curious, roaming eyes but doesn’t say anything as he gets into the tub. 

You step into the shower behind him, steam from the hot water surrounding the two of you in little clouds. Joel has a contented yet unfulfilled look on his face as he turns you to put you under the steaming water. His eyes take it all in - the droplets falling down your soft skin, the way your bare flesh looks so plump and inviting already in the heat of the water. Your body flourishes with need when your bodies start to mold together when he pulls himself close, his quickly hardening cock pressing against your thigh. 

Joel smiles before pulling back a bit, reaching around you for a bar of soap and washcloth that hang below the shower head. He smirks as he sees how he’s left you breathless and wanting already while he lathers up the washcloth. 

“Gotta be a good girl and wash up first,” Joel says smoothly, his voice a deep rumble above the sounds of the water hitting the tub. You half expect him to hand you the washcloth now, but Joel reaches forward and starts to make suds along your shoulders and chest. You gasp when he runs the cloth down over your breasts, moving tantalizingly slow as he makes his way over each one, swirling movements while the fabric grazes your nipples. His movements are delicate and calculated, and when he reaches your neck, he’s gentle and caring while he carefully rinses off the dried blood still staining your skin from last night. He frowns when you wince, your flesh sore and aching when he touches it. He leans down towards your neck and your body visibly tenses with fear, eyes squeezing shut and bracing yourself for impact. 

“Shh, wanna show you I can be gentle,” Joel says quietly, reaching around you to rub your back. He brushes his lips over an unmarked patch before kissing it. His lips move so softly, his tongue poking out the tiniest bit to lick at your skin in between his kisses. “See?” he adds on, moving the washcloth down your body as he continues to soothe your hurts and heal that fear from last night, never letting his lips go past the most gentle sucking. 

You feel your body starting to respond to him, melting as he sends your skin burning and tingling from your neck downwards. He dips the washcloth to your thighs, rubbing around to your ass where he lands a soft slap to one of the cheeks, making you giggle quietly in delight. You can feel Joel smile against your skin at such an unexpected reaction from you. 

“Oh yeah? You like that, princess? Daddy turnin’ you on again?” Your head falls back a little bit towards the water and you nod. He grips one of the globes of your ass and squeezes before another soft smack hits it and Joel relishes in the way your plush skin jiggles for him. 

“Perfect ass,” he says with another smirk against your neck. Your hips press forward as he continues to massage your asscheeks, your body unconsciously seeking what’s between his legs. It drives you forward, seeming to know better than you do what you need to help the pulsing throb in the core of your body. 

“Almost done, be a good girl and control yourself a little longer, yeah?” Joel says as he notices the way your body squirms towards him, the hooded look in your eye as you become more mesmerized by his movements. Joel sinks down in front of you, cleaning your legs in long strokes, his free hand anchored on your thigh but moving slowly inward before it slides between your legs. 

You let out a soft mewl when his finger finds your folds, hips bearing down into the touch a little bit. Joel just continues on, cleaning your legs and feet, taking extra time to practically worship them as his fingers continue to pleasure you, rubbing your clit in slow, lazy circles. You’re losing yourself again, that feeling from last night, from outside earlier today, the one you can’t ignore when you give your body over to Joel. It happens slowly and then all at once, a slow fade until you slip away, ready to let him do anything to help you reach that beautiful explosion of pleasure you found yourself learning more about each time. 

“P-please…” you whisper quietly, needing more, feeling the achingly beautiful build up starting to pull at your core. Joel stands up, not missing a beat with his hand as he coaxes your pleasure out of you. 

“Ask nicely, little one, use your words,” Joel says smugly, and you could swear he moves his fingers even slower just to spite you. Your breathing sounds shaky when you inhale, trying to get air and focus your mind. 

“Please, daddy…” you whine, “Make me feel good.” Your voice hardly sounds your own, and you fight the urge to shove Joel away and run again, hoping to escape whoever the hell he’s turning you into. But his hand grips your shoulder and turns you, pushing your back into the wall of the shower before he crowds you, making you forget the thought completely. 

“Daddy’s here, princess,” Joel coos, bringing his face to yours and kissing you. “He’s gonna make you feel good.”

Joel comes even closer, and you feel his cock slip between your legs, replacing his hand, and your breath shudders, mouth popping open in a half forgotten gasp. You feel the thick head of him sliding over your clit, and you stare at him wide eyed and overwhelmed already. His entire length follows, gliding through your slit, nestling perfectly between your thighs before he pulls back in an unhurried movement, keeping a close eye on your reaction to his every move. He’s mesmerized, watching your eyes start to flutter when he slides back in, then out again, your pussy slickening in anticipation for him. You feel your tiny hole fluttering, clenching around nothing, and the feeling intrigues you more than anything, the thought that your body knows and wants Joel there. 

You stutter on your words, wanting to tell him it feels good, that he’s so unexpectedly big between your legs and it’s making you want to lose your mind. You know you felt it in your hand last night, but this was different, feeling the fullness of him in your most sensitive spots, a spot you’d been wondering how any of it was going to fit when the time came. If this was it, then you were glad it wasn’t as much as you’d expected, that it only felt good. 

“Look at ya, can’t even speak cause daddy’s cock got your tongue tied,” Joel clicks his tongue and shakes his head playfully as he moves in and out from between your thighs once again. 

“I- this - is this, you know?” you ask, knowing that it can’t be that simple, that you’re about to be shown just how frustratingly innocent you are again. 

Joel chuckles, throwing his head back a little. You watch his body ripple with the laughter, admiring his solid chest for a moment when your eyes drift down. 

“Close,” he says sweetly, stroking your cheek, “Daddy’s gotta be inside for that.”

Your cheeks burn and you go to answer, but his cock slides past your clit again and you shudder. “Th-that’s what I thought…” you murmur out weakly, the words trailing into a soft moan as Joel starts to move a little faster. 

“Poor thing wants daddy’s cock splitting her open, doesn’t she?” Joel asks in a patronizing tone, pushing one of his palms on the shower wall next to your head and the other wrapped around your hip, anchoring the both of you for him to start fucking himself more eagerly between your thighs. 

You breathe out a moan, finding your body limply falling back and using the shower wall to support you as your legs start to shake. Joel’s words have the final effect on you, barely even knowing what that would mean for you to be split open by him. It’s alluring and frightening at once, the concept that your body could accommodate something that large where he’d only used his fingers before. 

Joel brings his lips to yours and kisses you sloppily, an open mouthed, ravishing act as his tongue forces entry into your mouth, licking along your bottom lip. “Can’t hold back much longer from your sweet little pussy, princess,” he says in a daze. “C’mon, do daddy a favor and tighten those thighs around my cock f’me.”

You squeeze your thighs together a little tighter, looking up at him with puffy, assaulted lips, eyes glistening in the haze of your pleasure. “L-like this, daddy?” you ask quietly, moaning as your eyes roll back when his cock brushes so perfectly over your now overly-sensitive clit. It slips through with a little more effort now, Joel groaning in pleasure and nodding.

“There ya go, good girl,” Joel answers in a breathier tone, a little rasp taking over as he starts to lose himself. He grunts a little with the exertion, both of you unsure now what is sweat and what is water from the steaming shower. You can feel that beyond the water, your cunt is shamelessly weeping for him, dripping out onto his cock each time it passes through your slit, not bothering to be delicate with you anymore anymore. His wet curls fall forward onto his forehead as he tilts his head down over top of yours. You’re panting, the heat of the bathroom nearly choking you as your heart picks up speed. 

Joel’s lips latch to yours again, swallowing all of the little whimpers and cries you make as you start to tremble against him. Your hands claw up to Joel’s shoulders for support, drawing yourself even closer as your insides burn for him, burn for that one movement to send you over the edge. Joel’s hips roll forward again as his pace quickens and you can hear the slap of your hips together, hear only the way he grunts and moans for you above the rushing of blood through your ears. His praises reach your ears while he continues to devastate the bundle of nerves between your legs - good girl, fuck you’re perfect, so wet, so so wet, let go for me - and then you do.

Everything else seems to fade as a crashing wave of pleasure rolls out from your core, enveloping every inch of you. The head of Joel’s cock rubs furiously over your clit as he pumps his hips faster for you to ride out your high. You whimper and cry out for him, his hand catching the back of your head at the last moment as it quickly dips back, stopping you from clunking into the wall of the shower. He draws you near, tucking your head into his chest where you collapse, a final moan slipping out as you come back to him. 

Joel moves his cock lazily, sending your hips shuddering with oversensitivity for a few moments before he stops, tilting your head down and holding it there with a firm hand on the back of your hair.

“Want y’to look at what y’did to me,” he says, sliding his cock from between your raw, tingling thighs, revealing the creamy slickness coating his cock, his broad body blocking the water from washing it away just yet. He smirks as he continues to force your head down, showing you the proof of how much you want him, of how badly you’ve fallen into his hold now. “Pretty girl made such a mess on daddy’s cock,” he coos, wrapping a hand around the base of it with his free hand, starting to tug on it a few times. You’re mesmerized by the way he moves with such precision, his large, long fingers able to take so much more than you can as they wrap around his shaft.

“Only fair I make a mess on her too, ain’t it?” Joel questions, the smirk evident in his voice as his hand begins to move, gathering up your slickness and mixing it with the precum leaking out of his tip. You feel like you can barely blink, barely breathe, as you take it all in. The slick, squelching sounds that soon fill the shower stall, the redness of his cock as it begs for release, the way his hand moves so deftly that it makes your clit start to ache all over again. You tremble, still completely rocked from your recent orgasm, trying to focus on his pleasure now.

“Gonna look so pretty covered in my come again, princess,” Joel grunts out, and you try to lift your eyes to his, to search for comfort behind his eyes, desiring a closeness with him. “Nuh-uh, want you to see my cock spill all over your pretty body, baby,” he quickly chastises you, keeping your gaze downward with a small shove on your head.

He’s moving in sped-up strokes now, groaning quietly, grumbling praises to you again as his hips stutter forward a bit into his hand. He suddenly lets go, angling his body before ropes of come spurt out and land all over your stomach and right between your legs, dripping down immediately. The milky whiteness coats your skin and you watch all of it in awe, finding that you want to see it again and again and again. It makes you feel special, to see Joel lose control for just that brief moment as his eyes flutter and he releases it all… because of you.

“God,” Joel murmurs, stepping right up to you and wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close. “Good job, honey, y’did good today.” His lips find the top of your head, his breathing heavy as he plants a kiss there and then pulls back to look at you. “You like your reward, hm?”

You nod a bit more eagerly than you’ve reacted towards him yet and smile softly. “Yes sir,” you say proudly, Joel’s face mimicking the look with his own pleased smirk.

“Good girl,” he replies, patting your head and turning your body to the sprinkling water to rinse you off. He gently cleans you once more, making sure he gets every last bit of his come, continuing his praises of you as he does it. He turns off the shower and reaches for a towel, wrapping the fluffy fabric around your shoulders and taking another proud look at you. 

Joel proceeds to make you dinner, having you relax back on the sofa as you watch him, sprawled out and exhausted. How you’re so worn out from doing practically nothing today has you almost laughing at yourself. You suppose that the mental gymnastics that Joel puts you through take enough of a toll to leave you this tired at the end of the day.

You eyeball him at the stove, the warmth of the shower coupled with the crackling fire has your eyes drooping more by the second. He put you in one of his flannel shirts and nothing else, the fabric cozy and smelling like him, and you find you’re enjoying it more than you wish. Joel looks over at you and smiles at the sight while he stirs what looks like some kind of rice dish with some of the venison he’d gotten today. 

“Somethin’ on your mind?” he asks with another glance your way, seeing the more contemplative look on your face. You had been thinking about something, a tickle in the back of your mind since last night. You’re not sure if it’s the tiredness getting to you, or you’re actually starting to feel more comfortable around Joel, but you sit up a little and bite your lip, ready to ask him. 

“H-how… how come you haven’t… y’know… done all of it with me yet? Isn’t - isn’t that what men want? I’ve heard st-“

Joel cuts off your rambling with a raise of his hand, but his eyes shine with surprise beneath their cold exterior.  

“Now, a real man can get pleasure in lots of different ways. Don’t group daddy with people who just wanna stick their dick in anythin’ warm ‘n wet then move on, okay?” 

His tone scolds you and you sit wide eyed at his lewd imagery, nodding hastily. He stirs the pan on the stove once over before walking over to you, stopping and grasping at your chin, a movement that seems to make your knees feel weak every time. You find your body nearly limp at the way he touches you there, your mind willing you to submit to his power. 

“And as for why…” Joel starts with a cocky smile. “I want y’to beg for it, princess. An’ you will be. Be beggin’ for my cock inside of you ‘fore long.”

You blink back your shock at his answer, and shake your head a little before you can think about it. “I don’t - no - I -“ you sputter out, never imagining yourself in a scenario where you’d beg Joel for much else other than your freedom. Even that was a thought becoming lost to the recesses of your mind, having found yourself experiencing more and more small comforts here. 

“You will. Way I see it you’re already halfway there, darlin’. Beggin’ for daddy to make you feel good twice jus’ today, weren’t ya? Hm?”

Your lips sit parted with your lost words, realizing he’s right. You’d asked him for it today, asked to feel good at his hand, his mouth, his cock.

“Yes, daddy, that was me,” you respond, your eyes glancing down demurely before he squeezes your chin.

“So. I’m gonna make you want it so bad I’ve got no choice but to fuck that tight little virgin pussy of yours, jus’ to quiet your beggin’. That’s why.”

You’re quiet now, words failing you again as you sit silently in Joel’s hold. You feel sick with desire and disgust and anticipation all at once, everything overwhelming your senses. Joel’s touch, the smell of the stove, the scratch of his shirt on your skin.

Maybe. Your stomach turns as the thought crosses your mind. Maybe you would… maybe Joel was right as usual, that you’d be begging for him to fuck you by the end of all this. And maybe you didn’t mind coming to terms with that. 

“Dinner’s ready, c‘mon,” Joel says, ignoring the stricken expression on your face as he walks back over to the stove. You sit up, moving to follow his command without a second thought.

“Yes, sir.”

reminder i have no taglist anymore! follow @beardedjoel-updatesand turn on notifs for when i post there!

smother - part v: penitence

dark!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: it's just another day learning to live in joel's cabin, until it isn't. things reach a breaking point, leading to a new discovery of just what joel wants from you. 11.3k words. chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI! noncon, dubcon - reader is consenting but the syndrome is stockholming so its dubcon, noncon somnophilia, almost nonconsensual piv, coercion, reader is a virgin, big juicy age gap (reader is 19, joel is 55), ddlg/daddy dom! joel, fingering, thigh riding (yeehaw), briefest knife play, corruption kink, pet names for reader, reader is lifted by joel but that's mostly it on description, if these darker tags aren't your cup of tea please keep scrolling! a/n: i know this chapter gets a little darker and intense there towards the end, but i had to remember that joel is our crazy sexy cabin man and return to his roots. i hope you all enjoy reading as always! s/o to my babies @jupiter-soups and @huffle-punk for always bouncing ideas and dealing with my ass in general reminder i have no taglist anymore, follow @beardedjoel-updates to hear about my new fics!

Please please oh please please please…

The begging whimpers fall from your lips in a near feral state, your entire body hot, sweat gleaming from what feels like every pore as you writhe around on the bed. Joel’s gaze is hard and his smile a devilish smirk as he shakes his head. 

“Nope… not good enough…” he tells you. 

His fingers move in absurdly slow strokes in and out of you, practically just dragging along your walls at the most painstaking pace. You cry out again, tears welling in the corners of your eyes, ready to drip down your youthful cheeks. He sits in between your legs, one hand wrapped around his cock to tease you, giving you a full view as he touches himself and barely gives anything in return. 

“Daddy please, I need it, I need it…” you whine in a voice that doesn’t sound much like yours. It’s too high, too convinced that she needs what she’s begging for. 

Joel’s free hand strokes his cock more sensually and he grins with a toothy smile, feeling cocky. “This what you want? Go on, touch it and I’ll let you have it.”

Your teeth grind together as you push out a grunting noise, your wrists pulling on the two restraints holding your wrists up above your head and to the headboard. You strain against them, tugging hard to try to reach Joel, glancing up to see the two chains locking your arms where they are. 

“No… fair…” you cry, lip trembling and pouting. The ache inside of you is all screaming heat now, a void that can only be filled by one thing. The one thing you physically can not reach for. 

“Life ain’t fair,” Joel replies casually, moving himself so that he’s straddling your hips. He’s all heat and sweat and bare skin against you when his chest comes down closer to yours and you roll your hips into him, a whimpering, blubbering mess. You can almost feel him, the thickness of his cock against you as it juts out. It lands unsatisfactorily on your thigh, inching its way closer to your center. 

Please… You think the words leave your mouth again but you aren’t sure. You’re lost, deluded beyond repair, your mind a hazy cavern that only echoes Joel’s name over and over. 

“Lucky I’m in a giving mood today,” Joel says with another smirk. He suddenly presses his hips forward, crashing them into yours with force. 

You gasp, your eyes flying open as you awaken to the darkness of Joel’s bedroom. Your heart thuds in your chest as you gather yourself for a quick moment and take in your surroundings. You remind yourself as you have had to for the last several days that you’re in Joel’s cabin. You live here now, your purpose is to warm his bed and be subject to his whims. 

The space between your legs is warm and achy from the dream - it had all felt so real and tangible in the moment. As you come to, you notice, or feel, rather, Joel’s thick fingers swirling inside of you. You gasp again, your hips twitching into the touch when your body and mind catch up to one another. He presses his finger deeper, touching the spongy part deep inside of you before retracting it with a wet squelch. 

“You poor thing,” Joel murmurs, his face burying in your neck to kiss the skin there and suckle a fresh mark on you. You wince at the sensitivity of the skin there, wondering just how many marks he’s made at this point. “Makin’ all kinds of noises, baby. Noises that mean y’need daddy to help you out.”

“Wh-” you murmur in a haze, blinking a few times to finish getting the sleep out of your eyes, hips arching instinctually as Joel dips a knuckle back into your tight hole. “Mmm…” you moan out before you can help it. Your body is craving it, the dream having you on edge already, cunt dripping out sticky and wet onto your thighs before Joel had even been woken up by your lewd noises and put a hand there. 

The satisfaction he’d felt at finding you slick, dripping and muttering his name had him feeling bold, rushing to get inside of you as quickly as possible. He hadn’t even minded that you’d called him Joel instead, knowing that someday soon you’d only have that one word in your mind at all times. Daddy. Your world would revolve around your daddy soon, he thought eagerly as he’d carefully slid his fingers into you, making sure not to wake you at first. It almost made it better, he thought, how unaware you were in the moment of just how much he was helping you out, how good he was being. He could have you fully in this state, feel you tighten around his fingers as you dreamed about whatever filthy things were in that innocent mind of yours. 

He couldn’t ignore the aching of his stiff cock the more he felt your cunt flutter and tighten around his fingers, gushing as he touched you. Joel’s hand slipped over to his cock, covered in your slick as he listened to your little whimpers and watched you toss and turn, burning up with need. He’d furiously stroked his cock until it was red and throbbing, spilling himself across his bare belly before returning to your needy little pussy. The sloppier he got, the less he’d cared if you woke up, and when you finally gasped your way back into reality, he’d thought it was about time. He had been starting to feel impatient to see your pretty lips part in moans for him as you came, watched your eyes lock on his as he brought you the pleasure. 

“Y’need this so bad, don’t you, sweetheart?” he asks you in a patronizing tone, words running thick, hot, and sweet off his tongue and right to your cunt, sending a throb deep inside of you. 

You nod quickly, your breathing heavy as you chase your hips further onto his finger. “Please…” you whine, eerily reminiscent of the dream that got you here in the first place. 

Joel’s free hand grabs your wrist, dragging your hand to his belly. Your eyes widen when your fingers are suddenly coated in something wet and sticky, and you turn your head to look, seeing the mess of Joel’s cum now sticking to your digits. Joel smiles, satisfied at your cute as sin look of surprise and confusion, guiding your hand back to your own body, bringing it lower between your legs. 

“I- I-“ you try to stutter out something, anything in protest, afraid of what you’ll feel. You’re too ashamed to admit to Joel you’ve never really touched yourself there, never done much exploring between your legs, and the idea still scares you a little at this point. 

“I know, I know, baby. You don’t know what you’re doin’ down there. You want daddy to help make you come? Let me show you how to do it?” he asks eagerly. 

You nod hesitantly, your eyes fluttering a bit as your breath catches when your fingers brush your clit at his urging. He gently wraps a hand around the back of yours and smears his spend all over the lips of your pussy, your eyes widening again with the newness of everything. You burn with shame of never having explored yourself like this, that Joel has to show you just what to do right now. 

“Mm… look at that… gonna stuff daddy’s cum right up that tight little thing,” Joel murmurs, his eyes dancing with delight as he keeps them locked between your legs, watching his creaminess mix with yours. He has you writhing within seconds, moving your fingers and then slipping his own into the mix, getting you to a sweaty, panting state. 

“I’ll let you come, ‘f you tell me about your dream.” Joel lets up on the movements and glances over at you with a wry smile, his lips twisted to the side. Your cheeks heat up at the prospect of sharing that with him, telling him the details your brain had conjured up to just how badly your subconscious wants him. You shake your head a little, pressing your lips together before biting the inside of your cheek. 

“N-no, it’s… I’m embarrassed,” you admit to him. 

Joel shakes his head. “Nothin’ to be embarrassed ‘bout. You gotta share this stuff w’me, princess. Daddy needs to know everythin’ about you if this is gonna work.” You contemplate his words for a moment and feel a fresh burning of fear settle in your belly at the idea of upsetting him or disobeying him. Especially in such a vulnerable position right now, so much of you on display for him to hurt, your mind fragile and full of need, making it easier for him to break down.

“You won’t laugh at me?” you ask quietly, shuddering when Joel forces your fingers to swipe up your velvety slit. He shakes his head slowly, an intent look on his face as he locks eyes with you. 

“I’d bet anythin’ this won’t make me laugh. Gonna make me hard all over again, sugar,” he tells you, swirling your fingers around your clit in the slowest, painstaking circles. You gulp and then nod, having made your decision. 

“It was… about you. Doing this kind of stuff to me.”

Joel smiles at the confirmation despite already having figured as much, and urges you to go on. “Yeah? And I was makin’ you feel good in the dream? Go on, then,” he replies. 

“Y-you…” Your cheeks are burning hotter now, the heat traveling outward to your neck and ears, a sheen of sweat forming as you fight to bring the words out. “You wouldn’t… um, you know. Have sex with me.”

Joel speeds up the movements of your own hand on your clit enough to send your mind a little fuzzy as you try to focus on his face. “No? Doesn’t sound much like me,” he teases, satisfaction written on his face. 

You shake your head a little bit, and then pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you quietly moan. “I was trying to, er, b-beg… and you said… no…” You breathe the words out between your whimpers as Joel keeps the speed up, making your fingers slip around in circles on your clit. Your legs are shaking now as you hear him chuckle, feel his body move closer to you. 

“Maybe you should try askin’ again. Beg a little harder.”

Your head shakes only slightly while your core warms and tightens. You’re too close now, all you need is to chase this one release that’s right within your grasp. “I w-want to but daddy… I’m so… close… please…” You pant and your eyes flutter shut and roll back, hips arching into your joint touch. 

Joel yanks your hand off of yourself and you whine loudly, your clit throbbing, heartbeat wild and pounding inside of your aching cunt. “N-no!” you cry out, feeling yourself tremble. 

Joel is sitting forward in a flash, strong hands grasping either side of your hip and yanking you. Your body rolls towards him as he lifts up, settling your hips to straddle one of his thighs. He holds on tightly, keeping you hovering just above his leg as you whimper, hips urging you to grind downward and find some relief. 

“Please, J- daddy, please…” Your entire body burns and feels like you’re breaking out in a sweat, every inch of you heating up by the second as you struggle downward, chasing any kind of friction. Joel squeezes tighter and you feel the pain searing your flesh, his fingers digging harshly into the plushness of your hips. 

“You ain’t gonna get nothin’ till you apologize…” Joel spits out, “You ain’t gonna beg when daddy asks you to? Lemme remind you: what I say goes. Now, you gonna beg daddy for his cock now like he asked? Hm?”

Your breathing labors further, eyes flying open and searching his, finding that wild, dark look in his irises. He doesn’t want to hurt you, you remind yourself. He just wants you to be good. 

“Daddy, I’m s-sorry,” you whimper. “It felt so good, I wanted to… keep feeling it…” You try to apologize, to explain yourself. You hadn’t even thought of it as disobeying him at the time, your mind clouded and hazy with pleasure. 

Joel dares to release one of his hands and reaches up, using it to grip around your chin now, squeezing hard before he puts his hand along your throat, feeling all the marks he’d left the last few days as he marvels at them for a moment. His fingers only brush there but it distinctly lets you know he would squeeze there if he wanted to. 

“No excuses. Beg me. Now. Don’t make me punish you for real this time, princess. Daddy doesn’t want a brat right now,” Joel instructs, both of his hands digging in so hard that your eyes start to sting with tears, hot as they brim your eyes. “Now beg me for my cock, like I know you want to.”

“I’m s-s-sorry, daddy,” you blubber, “Please g-give me your cock, please… I need it…”

Joel’s eyes narrow and he tilts your head in his grip, staring as the tears start to fall down your cheeks. “More,” he demands casually, throwing the word out like the situation is hardly affecting him. 

“Please… please please please… daddy, I’ll be good, just give me your… c-cock…” The word tastes foreign and dirty, awkward as it falls out of your mouth again at Joel’s instruction. 

“No,” Joel says harshly, releasing your face and using both hands to force your hips down onto his thigh. You nearly lose your balance and your hands fall forward to catch yourself, gripping into the comforter.

“Fuck my thigh like the bad little thing you are. All you get if you’re not gonna listen to me. Desperate little girl just wants to come, doesn’t she…” Your cunt touches the hot skin of his thigh, your overly-sensitive clit brushing the coarse hair there and you sigh in relief, giving him what you imagine is one of the most sad, pathetic looks you’ve ever had. Joel doesn’t fail to notice any of it, and he feels his cock twitch at the sight of so you broken down and degraded for him. Face shiny with sweat and tears, the skin around your eyes starting to get puffy, your lips pouting as you cry for him. It’s beautiful. 

He swipes his fingers through the remaining cum splattered across his round belly and shoves it between your legs, smearing it along his thigh. 

“Ride on daddy’s cum now, give ya somethin’ to get off on,” he says coldly, one hand reaching around to squeeze your ass, a silent urging to do as he says. You start to shift your hips, finding they roll naturally, your body chasing what it needs despite your inexperience. You moan and bite down inside your lip at the amount of pleasure already flooding you, the relief you feel on the ache between your thighs. 

Joel slaps your ass and grins darkly as he watches you. “You like bein’ talked down to, huh? That what gettin’ you off right now? Want daddy to be a lil’ mean sometimes?”

His words pulse right to your pussy, sending it fluttering around nothing and you gasp at the sensation. It all clicks, suddenly. This is the kind of moment he wants - the ones where you need him, where your body screams at you to be filled up, split open. And you can’t have it. The thought sends you whimpering as you chase what you and Joel both know will be less satisfying now. 

“Yes, daddy, oh my g-god…” you whimper as your insides pull tight, red hot and aching for that release. Your hips move more quickly, slipping along his thigh as you leak out your own arousal on top of his and hear the loud squelching sounds as you unashamedly continue to roll your hips along him. 

“Yeah? Want me to call you daddy’s pathetic little whore? That make you wanna come?” Joel asks with venom, and like with most questions he asks you now, you just nod obediently, a moan slipping past your lips. “Fuck… you’re one of them filthy little virgins ain’t you? So desperate they’ll do anythin,” Joel spits out, gripping onto both sides of your hips and rutting them forward and back, upping the pace of your grinding on his thigh. Your breathing is caught in your throat as you try to pant, whimpering and moaning, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as his words affect you. You want it all to stop but you can’t help yourself, you feel like you’re chasing his attention in whatever way he’ll give it in this moment. 

You feel your belly warm and tingling all the way down to where you’re wildly sliding along his slick skin.“I-I’m close daddy, is it okay - c-can -“

Joel’s hand lovingly strokes your cheek as his other stays planted on your ass. “Go on, princess. Feel good, baby,” Joel says, continuing to help you move your hips forward as you rock them frantically. His words send you over the edge, your legs shaking underneath you as you struggle to keep up your tempo. 

“Ohhhh… my god, daddy, I’m coming…” you whine, feeling the pleasure bursting through you as you ride your high, throwing your head back and moaning wildly. When you hear yourself moaning those words, they sound so foreign, like you’re outside of your body listening in. Where the hell did you even learn to speak like that? You guess Joel’s influence is already seeping in more than you realized.

“Oh, good girl… look at you…” Joel praises as you climax, gently guiding your head down towards his chest as you start to come down. You’re panting, heartbeat in every nook and cranny of your body as you collapse onto Joel and try to catch your breath. 

“Shh, shh, you did a good job, sweetheart,” Joel says softly, stroking the back of your head and rubbing gentle circles along your round ass cheek. 

“I was bad…” you whine dejectedly, feeling your eyes fill with tears again, shame for displeasing him washing over you like a wave, threatening to drown you. Even bigger than that, is the shame that you liked it, used his harshness and pain to lead you on towards that glorious high. 

“You were, honey. But daddy isn’t mad, no. I think you learned your lesson, mkay?” His hand works soothingly along your head, gentle fingers trailing to your neck and down your back. You nod against his chest, still finding the urge to cry not leaving you as a few of the tears spill out and onto his patches of curly hair. 

“Promise you’ll learn how to be daddy’s good girl, ‘n you won’t feel like this anymore,” Joel says sweetly, his voice quiet and calm now. 

You feel the lump in your throat growing as you face the question bubbling up deep inside of you. “W-why do I like i-it…?” you sob out quietly, wishing Joel could just make everything better, that his soft touches along your hair and back could fix everything, that his promises could make you stop questioning everything. 

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Joel says with concern, his hands flying up to either side of your face, lifting you up to look him in the eyes. “You like it ‘cause y’do. An’ there don’t need to be any reason more. Feels good, right?” 

You nod with your lips pouted, sniffling. 

“Promise you’re perfect the way y’are, princess. I’ll never judge that y’like anythin’ I do or say to you. Daddy likes it all too,” he explains, and you feel the weight on your shoulders starting to lift the tiniest bit.

“You like being… well, mean, I guess, like that?”

Joel’s lip turns up a bit and he nods. “I like makin’ sure you stay good f’me. And you like bein’ good, whatever it takes to get there. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say more confidently. “B-but I don’t want you to be mad at me. Or punish me.”

Joel’s expression shifts, showing an amused concern, looking at you like the most precious treasure as he holds you close. “Never mad, never. Not unless you disobey daddy real bad. It hurts me, y’see, when you don’t listen.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll be good,” you say with a sigh, dropping your head back down when Joel loosens his grip. His warm chest greets your cheek and you revel in the sound of his heartbeat in your ear. 

Joel’s hand finds the back of your head again, petting as he strokes along your hair. 

“I know y’will.”

Joel lets you doze for a while, contently stroking your body everywhere he can reach as he rests his own eyes. Once the sunlight starts spilling in around the curtains, he has you get up not much longer after that, helping you get cleaned up and dressed for the day. You watch as he digs through one of the closets in the bedroom, landing on a similar gown to the one you wore yesterday, only shorter and with a sweetheart neckline. He pulls it over your head and admires his choice for several long moments, spinning you around to take in every angle. 

“Our first order of business today is gettin’ your wardrobe sorted. How’s that sound, hm?” Joel says. 

You can feel your eyes light up, your interest piqued at the idea of new clothing. It made you especially grateful after wearing your already threadbare outfit down as you’d struggled out on your own.

“Sit down there,” Joel says, throwing a hand towards the wooden chair arranged in the corner nearest to the dresser. “Be good for daddy and stay nice ‘n quiet unless I speak to you, okay?”

“O-oh - okay,” you mumble, feeling slightly disappointed, not understanding where in his mind Joel decides these things. When he doesn’t want you to speak, what he wants you to do, say, or wear. It all seems like so much to keep track of for another person other than yourself, but you find yourself sitting back into the chair, folding your hands into your lap as Joel gets to work, pulling clothing from the dresser.

He holds each item up, sometimes in your direction, seemingly testing how he feels about it in relation to you. It makes you curious, your brain turning with thoughts since you’re not distracted by much conversation. 

He holds up several more similar gowns to the ones you’ve been wearing - clearly Joel has a preference. Your cheeks warm when he pulls out lingerie, smiling to himself before holding it up for you to see too. Your smile is shy, eyes glancing at the sexy pieces of fabric before averting them. 

“You’d look so pretty in this, sweetheart,” Joel comments on a floral cotton slip, the material clearly thin enough to leave little to the imagination. He folds it up and puts it into the pile he’s been building of approved clothing. 

“Thank you,” you reply in barely a whisper, having to clear your throat a little from the lack of use. “Uh- um…” you stutter out, desperately wanting to ask what you’ve been thinking about, but worried more about breaking the rules. Joel looks over at you expectantly but otherwise unreadable, unclear if you speaking right now will upset him. 

“C-can I ask you something?” you finally manage to spit out. 

Joel holds your gaze but then smiles softly, tilting his head a little bit. He absentmindedly folds the flannel shirt he was holding and sets it onto the pile he’s been making on top of the dresser. “Since you asked so polite-like, sure thing sweetheart.”

You feel your mouth go a little dry and catch your hands wringing anxiously your lap before you try to still them. “I was just wondering… uh, why… or where you got all these clothes? G-girl clothes?”

Joel studies you for an extra moment, watching your eyes, your wary expression as you await what type of reaction he’ll have. “Well, princess,” he starts, scratching his chin as he thinks, quickly placing the wording together in his head in a way for you to digest. “Some things were jus’ here when I found the place. Ol’ clothes from whoever stayed here ‘fore the world went to shit. But I also collected some things I like in all different sizes jus’ in case I ever got lucky enough to find someone like you. That way I’d be ready ‘f them, have all the things I like for my special girl to wear.”

You feel the surprised look showing on your face before you can help it, and you stare at Joel, doe-eyed, mouth slightly agape. “You just… took clothes like that even though you didn’t have anyone to give them to?”

Joel smiles a little wider, clearly amused by you. “Sure did. Call it uh, manifestin’,” he says jovially, giving you a suave wink before turning his attention to the drawers again. He holds up a flimsy looking tank top and nods to himself, mumbling about a summer wardrobe before adding it to the growing pile. “Look what it brought me. An’ now I have lots of pretty stuff for my princess to wear, right?”

You nod. “Right,” you say. 

“Don’t you think that makes daddy pretty smart?”

In some weird, twisted way, you think it does. If there was one thing Joel certainly was, it was prepared. For what you’d wear, what he needed to say to you - knowing every perfect answer and thing to say to make you trust him and want him and crave him. It was driving you insane, watching him as you sat still as he’d asked, being his good little companion while he dictated every piece of clothing you were allowed to wear going forward. And you were just letting him. Because for some reason, he’s already started to gain your trust, to burrow himself into the very fabric of your being. 

“Yes, sir, it does,” you reply without a beat, making sure there’s no room for error or doubt on his part. Your prompt agreement has Joel continuing to smile in your direction for a few seconds before he goes back to organizing the drawers. 

Joel finally has several stacks of clothing he seems pleased with set on top of the dresser, the rest of the rejected clothes ready to be tucked away somewhere - nowhere that matters, since you won’t be allowed to wear them, anyways. Joel neatly places everything in empty drawers for you and then walks over to where you sit, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. You lean into it, eyes fluttering with a sigh escaping your lips at the warmth of him, the way his lips feel on your skin and his calloused hand now perched on your shoulder. 

“Thank you for bein’ so good for me while I did that. C’mon over ‘n see,” he says, helping you up and keeping his grip on your hand as he leads you to the dresser. You see all kinds of different colors and fabrics, most of the things you see you remember from when Joel held them up in your direction.

His arm snakes around you, pulling you in close as you rest against his body. “Now all this is yours, sugar. Anythin’ in here is approved by me to wear, okay? Daddy may ask for somethin’ specific some days, but this is all for you to choose from otherwise, yeah?”

You nod as his grip tightens slightly in excitement. “Yes,” you breathe out quietly.

Joel tuts quickly, fingers digging into the small of your back slightly. “Yes, who?” he demands sternly, and your eyes widen as you stare down at the stacks of folded clothing, realizing your mistake. 

“Yes, daddy,” you say, correcting yourself. Your voice wavers but you relax once you feel Joel’s body lose some tension, meaning it was only a minor offense. He slides his hand down and pats your ass in one swift motion. 

“Good girl,” he coos, spinning you to face him now. “You like all your clothes, princess?” He looks so human to you right now, so hopeful and eager to see if you like his choices and trust that he knows what he’s doing to help you. 

“Yes, of course. Thank you, sir… for getting them all for me,” you reply dutifully, dipping your chin downwards.

Joel shoots you a pleased look before shutting the drawer with an air of finality. “Let’s get a move on, then. Got a busy day ahead of us.”

Joel has you as his shadow the entire rest of the day, requesting your presence at every moment. Watching him fold his own laundry. Cleaning his guns. Sweeping up the kitchen. Deciding during each task if he wants you quiet or talkative, sitting like a thing to gaze at or answering his questions to get to know you more. Did you have siblings? Yes. How many? One brother. No other family to take care of you after they all passed? No. Nobody gonna come looking for you, then? No, sir. Tell me more about what you like to do. Gardening, sir. Reading, walking in nature when it’s a safe area, always wanted to try archery but wasn’t allowed. Why’s that? It’s a man’s job, they said. Unladylike. 

You find yourself in the middle of one of these interrogations after he bundles you up again to sit outside and watch him chop wood in the front yard. Joel is gleaming with sweat, each powerful swing of his ax and grunt putting him a little more out of breath. He shrugs off his flannel, using it to wipe the sweat off of his forehead, leaving him in a tight long sleeved tee shirt, a worn and faded navy color. You find yourself unable to stop staring at him like this, his show of strength seeming less threatening than before and more… attractive. Joel looks undeniably handsome and your mind dares to throw the word sexy into your thoughts as you take in his wind blown hair, reddened cheeks, and muscles on display. You feel your cheeks wanting to heat up when you realize that in all your gaping stares you’ve started to get wet, your underwear sticking uncomfortably to you where you sit. 

Joel slices cleanly through one more log before he settles the end of the ax into the snow, leaning down on it as he peers at you curiously. 

“Is it now? A man’s job, huh,” Joel says with a lifted brow, inspecting you where you sit on a nearby stump, swinging your legs as you kick up snow while you two converse. 

“My dad let me when I was little, just sometimes as a secret. But after… he, well, you know, and Harry and Josephine took me in, I wasn’t allowed, I guess.” You shrug, brushing the memories off your shoulders as you’d learned to do when it came to your family and all of the things you hadn’t been allowed to do. Your entire life, you’d been pushed to accept certain things and never had much of the spirit to question any of it or push back.

Joel contemplates your words for a moment. “Now, there are some things a man should do f’you,” Joel’s hand splays on his chest, indicating himself as that specific man to you. “Just ‘cause you’re my delicate girl, and I don’t want you gettin’ hurt. But I’ll teach ya, get y’to know your way around a bow if you’re good f’me, how’s that sound?”

You beam at him, sitting up straighter in your excitement and squinting in the afternoon sun as you look in his direction. “You’d really do it? It’s not t-too much? Or…”

“Not too much.” Joel shakes his head, clearly pleased with how excited you are about his offer. He lets the ax drop into the quickly melting layer of snow on the ground and walks over to you. “Make you into a tough girl yet, hm?” he teases, sliding his arms under your jacket and wrapping them around you, tickling your sides as he moves. You can’t help but giggle and squirm, prompting Joel to double down, tickling you more purposefully this time. 

“S-stop!” you squeal, a fit of giggles as your body flails further into his grip. “Daddy!” you cry out as he tickles you one last time, tugging you in as he stops and smashing his lips into yours. His tongue slips past your lips and into your mouth, and you melt into the kiss, hands snaking upwards to wrap around his neck. Your fingers brush through his scruff and feel the overgrown hair curling on the nape of his neck. You want to grasp it and hold on, never letting go of how good this moment feels. It’s the first time in days you think you’ve truly felt at ease, the little flash of hope burning bright inside your chest, making you feel some semblance of excitement for the future. You aren’t sure the last time you’d felt anything remotely close to that.  

Joel pulls back, breathless, looking at you with his pupils dilated and eyes practically on fire, their stare burning a hole into you. “God, love it when you call me that,” he murmurs, diving in for a few more hungry kisses, leaving your body quickly burning up underneath your layers as you start to pulse with need. “Ain’t hard to do now, is it?”

You shake your head as your lips barely part from one another. “N-no, it’s easier now…” you say equally as quiet. You admit shyly to yourself that you think you might even like it, the confession embarrassing you when you’d been adamant to yourself just last night that you were more than skeptical about all of this. 

But as usual, Joel had a point. This all felt kind of… good… as much as you hated to admit it. You felt safe and comfortable with Joel taking care of things - your belly was full, body warm underneath all your new clothing, and Joel seemed intent on making sure you were always satisfied in other ways, too. 

“Told ya it would get easier. Remember…” Joel kisses you lightly before pulling back. “I know best, know everythin’ you need.”

You nod as he kisses you again, hands starting to roam freely inside your jacket. Joel can feel the heat radiating through all the fabric, and he starts to slowly pull your jacket off of you. He tugs it down your arms and discards it, the fresh, cool air a relief as it hits your quickly warming skin.

“Say it,” Joel says quietly against your mouth, his lips catching on the corner of yours and pressing in gently. “Tell me, baby.”

Your lips search for his desperately, eyes fluttering shut as you find yourself more and more caught up in the moment. “You know best,” you say, your voice barely a breathy whisper as your body gravitates closer to him. He towers over you, straightening up from where he’s been leaning down to kiss you, leaving your head right at his torso. He wraps his arms around your head, pulling your cheek flush against his belt line, skin digging into the waistband of his jeans. He holds you tightly there, making it so that you’re unable to move your head. Joel’s fresh arousal starts to become more and more apparently as it presses against you. 

“I can tell you’re startin’ to mean that,” Joel says, “Say it again.”

“You know best,” you murmur into the crook of his elbow. 

“Tell daddy he knows everything you need.”

“Daddy knows everything I need,” you whine out quietly feeling his cock getting harder right near your face. You squirm your hips as a rush of arousal floods you at your proximity to his bulge and hearing the commanding way he’s speaking to you. 

“And you’d let daddy do anything he wants to you, wouldn’t you?”

“Y-yes, sir, I would. Please…” You find yourself whining, Joel’s ability to get you riled up so quickly starting to frustrate you. You’re not sure what you’re begging for - him to continue or for it to all stop. 

Joel sighs, long and deep as he just holds you there for a few quiet moments, head tilted back to the sky. His hips grind forwards, pressing his hardened cock further against you and you feel a lump forming in your throat, your mouth feeling equally like it’s salivating and drying. Your need is growing by the second, thighs clamped together as you scoot closer to him. 

“Good girl,” he says, releasing your head and tossing it back from his body, dusting his hands off as he starts to walk away. “Gettin’ to be about dinner time. Come on inside,” Joel adds on casually, and your mouth drops. You can’t help but hesitate, stunned by his ability to walk away from the situation, to hold back his own obvious desires in the moment. You’re panting, trying to catch your breath as you press your palms down into the sides of the stump you were using as a chair. You let the cool surface of the wood try to ground you while you wrap your mind around the sudden pivot in Joel’s direction. You’d been so ready to have him touch you again, make you feel all those amazing things, only to have it stop so suddenly. Your head spins and you turn around to see Joel already halfway across the yard. 

He’s nearly up the stairs to the porch by the time you scurry off your seat, snatching your coat up in a hurry as trailing after him once you get your head back on straight. He seems unfazed as you rush up behind him out of breath, simply trudging inside and taking off his boots and jacket, depositing them in their homes near the front door. 

He bends down wordlessly, crouching in front of you and starting to untie your shoelaces. He taps the side of your right boot as a silent command and you lift your foot, palm pressed against the wall to support you as Joel shimmies your shoe off, then starts on the other. He stands up afterwards, all the while silent, staring down at you with a dark gaze. He leans forward to press a kiss to the top of your head and you shudder at his proximity, recalling the intimacy of the moment you’d just shared outside, wondering if he was still aroused or if he was able to seemingly switch it off more easily than you could. Your cunt is still aching under your dress, panties likely soaked by now with the way they feel clinging to your skin. 

“J-“ you start, swallowing hard as you catch yourself again almost using his real name. “Daddy?” you ask quietly, sending your eyes innocent and blinking up at him. 

He touches your cheek softly and you melt a little. “What is it, princess?”

You chicken out at the last second, not even sure exactly which question you’d wanted to ask of the myriad of them running through your mind. If he was still turned on, if you’d done something wrong, if something was upsetting him, or even just begging him to touch you where it ached so badly for him. 

“I- I’m cold,” you say in a mousy tone, shying your eyes down, instead of any of the number of questions you truly had for him. 

Joel’s face softens a bit and he takes your jacket from you, hanging it up next to his on the hooks near the front door. His hand strokes your cheek again and he tilts his head a bit, studying you. 

“Let’s get you inside then,” he says, sliding his hand down your arm to your hand, pulling you along towards the living room. “You hungry?” he asks. You nod for him. “I’ll warm us some dinner, then. Come on ‘n keep me company.” Joel places you in front of the kitchen counters while he scans the open fridge, pulling out the stew from the other day to warm it up for you two. Once it’s in a pot on the stove, he walks back over and pulls you close to him, spinning your body to face away and then leading you to the stove where he stands with his broad torso pressed up against your back as he stirs the pot of stew.

He’s quiet again, letting his body do the talking as he ruts his crotch into your ass. You fight the urge to moan out, the sensitive area suddenly alight with desire all over again. He keeps you trapped between himself and the stove, his long arms reaching around you, bracketing you in. You don’t mind at all though, the feeling of claustrophobia you’d had around Joel the last few days seeming to dissipate more with each time he draws you near, touches you. You lean back, pressing your weight into him a little bit more and feeling that he is still hard, his cock straining against the rough denim that presses into the delicate fabric of your chemise. You bite the inside of your lip, watching Joel’s hand stir the pot as steam starts to waft off of it, the rich, savory smell enticing you and only adding to your complete emotional overhaul. Your body is overtaken by all the sensations, the tiny pleasures of this moment and you lean your head back a little, letting it fall against Joel’s chest and shoulder with a soft sigh.

Joel’s free hand wraps around your body and pulls you in tighter, his breath hot right next to your ear as he leans into you, head coming over your shoulder. Your skin tingles where you can feel his stubble brush along the sensitive areas of your neck, nuzzling you for a moment. A long inhale fills the air as he takes in your scent and then sighs out slowly.

Your body tenses and you let out the tiniest sound from your throat, a quiet whimper. Joel’s lips crack a wry smile as he hears it. He’s enjoying this, testing your limits, pushing you into begging for him like he wants you to.

“Looks ready,” he says quietly. “Let’s get you fed.” Joel pulls back, leaving you stunned once again, standing breathless and wanting. You lean your hands against the rim of the stove for a moment, steadying yourself. This game he’s playing is completely new to you, leaving you reeling - so far Joel has taken everything he’s wanted from you, so why isn’t he now?

“Sit down,” Joel says sternly, quickly eyeing you where you stand with a dazed, searching look in your eyes, head bent down towards the stove.

“Y-yes, sir,” you mumble out, spinning yourself around and marching over to the table, taking a seat and crossing your arms across your chest, trying not to look too huffy, but you almost can’t help it. You observe Joel as he doles out the stew into two bowls, then checks if the bread he’d made is too stale to eat, deciding to tear off a few pieces to have with dinner. 

You know you’re staring daggers into his back, starting to get annoyed with his change in behavior. You finally thought you’d started to figure him out, predict his moods and desires, enough to keep you in his good graces and safe from any punishments. Now that was all turned on its head. It left you scared but also frustrated, knowing that Joel knows how little you understand relationships and what’s normal, what to expect when you’re intimate with someone. You sit there, brooding over the racing thoughts, thinking about how he probably likes getting you all worked up like this, just to see what you’ll do, how you’ll react. 

Joel places the bowl in front of you and then settles into his own chair, giving you a soft smile, not quite reaching his eyes to change the hardened, mischievous look there. You stare back, and Joel reaches underneath the table to grip your thigh.

“What do you say, princess?” he asks, his voice low and strict, squeezing your leg a little harder, fingers indenting the skin and close to bruising you.

“I- thank you, daddy,” you reply quietly, your mouth dry and stomach turning. 

Joel lets go of your thigh and begins to eat, flashing his eyes to you every so often. Even with all of your frustration, that pesky aching between your legs hasn’t stopped for even a moment. It’s building, warm and tingly, each time you catch Joel’s dark, handsome eyes has a new throb popping up right there. You still want him, despite, or maybe in spite of, the exasperation you feel right now.

You eat slowly and unenthusiastically, distracted by your equal irritation and arousal towards Joel right now. He seems to be unaffected, only glancing at you every so often while he enjoys his meal. Your free hand lands softly on your lap and it stirs something within you, a desire you almost can’t ignore. You’re squirming in your seat, you can tell it’s obvious, that Joel’s attention will be caught any moment. And deep down, you know that’s the point. 

“Need somethin’, princess?” he asks in a low gravel. The sound sends sparks across your skin. You’re paralyzed by desire, your mouth opening to speak but having no clue how to say what it is your body is asking for. You don’t have the language, the vocabulary, for any of this yet, having let Joel guide your way thus far. In fact, Joel seemed to have predicted each time your body needed this until now, and you’re at a complete loss. 

“I- I -“ you finally stutter out, your hand slipping between where your thighs are squeezed tightly together, dragging upwards. You can feel the heat from your skin and the dampness as you get closer to the apex of your thighs, praying Joel can’t see the way your hand moves underneath the table. You slowly keep going, chasing any bit of relief when your hand gently starts to cup the outside of your underwear, finding them soaked. You try not to react, but know your eyes widened for just that split second, unable to help it as you marveled at the newness of this ability your body has that you’d hardly been aware of until two days ago. 

Joel eyes you with that unreadable expression of his and flicks his gaze to your arm, noticing the way it sits under the table, catching that tiny, surprised glint in your eyes a moment ago. 

“What’re you doin’?” he snips, his features darkening. 

You tear your hand from between your legs and let it hang next to your chair, shaking your head. He’s caught you off guard with his harsh tone, the way the words cut into the silence and you stutter again. You wanted to show him what you couldn’t say out loud, what you needed from him.

“No-nothing- I wasn’t doing anything,” you retort quickly, feeling your heart climbing up your throat while simultaneously beating faster and harder. 

Joel twists his lips a little and stares you down for several quiet moments. You sit in a silent showdown of staring at one another until he pushes his chair back from the table and stands up, slowly and carefully. 

He reaches down and gathers up both of your bowls and silverware. You start to make the tiniest noise of protest but hold back, watching him with a slack jaw as he clears the table like it’s any other meal, like there isn’t some imminent storm coming. 

You sit perfectly still, your stomach churning and sick, bile wanting to rise up as you anticipate his next moves. You don’t know how much he knows - not that you thought you were doing anything that wrong, but Joel may not see it that way. You’ve learned that his rules seem to carry so much weight with him for things you’d never have thought were something to think twice about. Clearly you still had a lot to learn.

He lets out a soft sigh as he deposits everything in the sink, turning back to you and walking over in thudding, deliberate steps. He looks down at you from where he stands next to your chair with no trace of pleasure on his lined, scruffy face. 

“Do you want to try that again?” he asks, quiet and controlled. 

Your head shakes in protest, not sure which part he’s even referring to. You’re terrified, unable to speak, but still feeling that pounding, aching feeling between your legs that just won’t fucking stop. 

“Daddy-“ you start, cut off when Joel throws a hand around your upper arm, yanking you out of your chair. You gasp and cry out as he whips you around and pushes you back until you hit the table, stumbling backwards onto it. 

Joel yanks you by the collar of your dress, tearing it, and you whimper at the loss and your own fear of him right now. He hauls you up onto the table, shoving you with a hard push to the shoulders with both hands, pinning you back onto the smooth wood. You struggle, your body caught in fight mode, unable to process that you know the more you fight him, the more angry he’ll get. 

“Plea-“

“Shut up,” Joel spits out. “I know you’re lyin’, and daddy doesn’t tolerate lyin’. Add that to your rule book, sweetheart.” He says the pet name with a hint of disdain behind it that starts tears pricking at the back of your eyes. 

Before you can stop it, the tears spill over onto your cheeks, running down along the sides of your head and into your hair. Joel makes hurried movements, a permanent snarl on his lips as he shoves you down again for good measure and starts hiking up your dress. You squirm and struggle again, only to have one of Joel’s hands stop moving along your hem and pressing down into your thigh, stopping the way your hips had been moving. 

“Stop. Struggling,” he says with a bite, continuing on with your dress, tearing it up to reveal what was already able to be seen through the sheer fabric. 

He smirks now, drinking in your helpless body below him, panties with a huge, wet stain just for him. He leans down over your body, and you can feel his bulge, hard and wanting, press against you when he does. His face is close to yours now, hovering above so menacingly. 

“I told you, my pet, I’m the only one who can make you feel good, and the only one who can hurt you,” he starts, clicking his tongue. “An’ you didn’t think I was serious, did you? That only I make you come, make your pretty pussy feel good. Not even your god damn self unless daddy says so.” He huffs out a quick sigh. “Really thought we were gettin’ somewhere, that I’d finally gotten through that pretty little head of yours, hm? Haven’t I? That all you think about is this cock, is gettin’ your little pussy wet f’me now, like a good little pet?”

You swallow hard, breathing heavily through your nose and looking up at him with wide, bleary eyes. He ruts his clothed cock into your center and you whine, half disgusted and half aroused. His words cut deep, making your body shake harder and the throb between your legs pulse. 

“Don’t move a fuckin’ muscle,” he commands, stepping away for only a second as you hear rummaging noises of a drawer opening and closing. When he appears back in your field of view you sob, tears streaming down your cheeks as you see a knife in his hand. He drags the blunt side of the cold blade over your thigh, sending goosebumps all along your flesh as you shake your head. 

“Daddy,” you cry out, “I didn’t - you made me feel so… I didn’t know how t-to tell you. And you seemed m-mad at me… s-so…” you blubber, trying to explain, and Joel meets your eyes and smirks. 

“Well I sure am mad now, ain’t I?” he replies bitingly.

The knife goes higher and your entire body starts to shake, thinking maybe somehow you’ve underestimated what Joel is capable of despite every terrifying moment you’ve already had with him. You know he’s unpredictable, that he isn’t a good man, but you would never think that he’d hurt you like this. Your heart squeezes in your chest in sorrow, wishing to get back the Joel from earlier today, the one who’d grazed your sides with tickling fingers and laughed with you before showing how much he cared with that sweet, deep kiss.

Joel slips the blade underneath the side of your panties where they sit snug in your hips and starts to turn the knife outward, tugging as you hear the sound of splitting fabric. Then you feel it, the fabric loosening and then falling away, Joel cutting clean through your panties. The knife clangs to the floor with a loud, ringing sound and you feel the tiniest bit of relief coursing through you. 

His belt starts to jangle and you stare straight up at the ceiling, unable to stop the way you’re shaking and crying now. You peer down just in time to see his cock being pulled out of his pants, hard and throbbing for you. He yanks your hips to the edge of the table, breathing heavily, his eyes crazed and distant. You whine when you feel the hard length against your thigh as he presses closer, cocking a brow as he looks down at you. He leans forward, pinning your wrists to the table with each of his hands, staring down at you. 

“Was gonna wait for you to beg me for this, but f’I’m honest sweetheart, you pissed me off back there. Deliberately did somethin’ you knew was wrong,” Joel starts.

“I didn-” you cry out, interrupting him, and he squeezes your wrists hard, fingers bruising and tough on your skin. 

“Yes you did, princess. Instead of trusting me, askin’ me, you jus’ went on ahead and touched what’s mine under my fuckin’ table. Mine. This is all mine, y’understand?” Joel delivers a swift slap to your bare pussy and you flinch, scooting back on the table as much as you’re able to.

“Do. You. Understand?” he repeats and you start to nod, squeezing your eyes shut, afraid to meet his gaze right now, afraid of what you’ll uncover there. 

“Yes… y-yes, master,” you whimper, using what you’ve been silently considering the name for him with the most respect behind it, hoping he’ll let up. His hold stays strong, his energy fearsome and radiating anger into the room with you two. 

“Good girl.”

You tremble, your eyes leaking a never ending flow of tears as you wait in agony. “Please d-don’t hurt me… please…” Your voice is as small as ever, barely leaving your lips. 

“Not tryna hurt you, princess. This oughta feel real good,” Joel says, his tone cocky as ever. It feels like a punch to the gut while Joel presses forward and you feel something large resting at your tiny entrance. You shake your head violently. This isn’t right, isn’t how this is supposed to go. He wouldn’t… would he? He wouldn’t take this from you right here, when it seemed like he had promised a good experience for you. When he’d been so adamantly taking care of you in every aspect so far, gentle enough for your inexperienced body but making you feel so, so good. Not like this. When you’re a terrified, shaking mess, unsure if you even want it right now. 

“N-no please, I- I don’t want my f-first time-“

You’re cut off by a swift yelp when you feel a burning sensation, Joel’s thick head starting to enter you. It’s not much, you can tell, but you stretch and burn, yelling out at the pain.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, “Wet little pussy for me, princess.” He speaks like he can’t hear you, like you’re barely even here right now and you cry out again at the pain, this time louder. 

“Please!” you scream, kicking your legs as much as you’re able to. “It hurts! Stop!” You squirm with all of your might, one last ditch effort to stop him. “Daddy!” you scream, eyes squeezed tightly, fists curled into painful balls as your nails dig into your hands. “Daddy…. Please…” Quieter now, your voice giving up on you as you whimper out his name, the one only you get to call him.

Something about your last whimper has Joel stopping, going completely still. A reminder that he’s supposed to take care of you, be your daddy. You dare to open your eyes to look at him now and see his face is stone-like until his eyes land on yours. He frowns, his hands loosening their grip on your wrists a tiny bit. 

“Shit…” he murmurs, his face falling completely, like he’s been broken out of a trance. He looks angry, more with himself than with you as he releases one of your wrists and runs a hand down his face. “God damn it… got me goin’ fuckin’ soft,” he mutters quietly, sighing.

Your chest heaves, waiting quietly as you watch Joel work through something and then pull back his hips from yours. The relief is instant and you let out a shaky breath. 

“I’m s-sorr-“

“No. No no, stop.” Joel shakes his head, hanging it low for a second. He lets go of your other wrist and reaches forward, scooping you up to sit against his body. “Daddy’s sorry…” he murmurs in your ear, and your body sits stiffly against him. You try to hold back your whimpering sobs that sit in your throat like a lump, not wanting to give him that power yet again to comfort you like this. 

“Shh, shh, daddy is sorry…” he repeats, smoothing your hair and holding you close. You tremble, your entire body screaming at you to get away, adrenaline pumping through your veins. But his scent has become more comfortingly familiar to you, and as it hits your nose you relax the tiniest bit.

His hands slide to your cheeks and hold them lovingly, much more gentle than he’s been the last few minutes. His brown eyes look sad, large, and weary as they peer into yours. You wonder what he sees there - if he can read the terror, the confusion, the heartbreak you feel right now. 

“Oh, sugar, when you look at me like that…” Joel muses, heartstrings pulled by your desperate expression. “I was so angry… I wanted you to learn, baby, but I know that wasn’t… it wasn’t helpin’.” He sighs, thumbs stroking your wet cheeks, and you barely dare to blink or even breathe as you take in his words. “It’s been a long time since I’ve…” he trails off, lost in thought for a moment. “God damn it, sweetheart you just…”

Your lips sit open in shock now at the change in his behavior, and you start to find your little voice climbing back up out of the depths it had been scared to. 

“I j-just what…?” you ask quietly, a small whisper. Joel’s eyes flick to yours in surprise, clearly not having expected you to speak just yet. 

“You make me crazy, precious girl. Jus’ want you all to m’self, it makes me feel out of my god damn mind. When you disobeyed me, didn’t trust me to… tell me what you were feelin’ I got so fuckin’…” He sucks in a calming breath. “It don’t matter. M’point is I need you to trust me, trust your daddy, tell him what you are feelin’, what you want, even if you’re worried ‘bout if I’m upset about it. That’s an order, mkay?”

You chew the inside of your lip as you listen, and then sniffle, your tears finally subsiding. “I don’t w-want you to hurt me if I tell you s-something…” you admit to him. 

He breathes out a sigh, flipping his hand to use the back of it to stroke your puffy, tear soaked cheeks. “I- I know I ain’t given you a reason to think I wouldn’t. But honey, look at me.” He pauses, angling your face towards him. You meet his eyes but it's painful right now to be searching for comfort there when you know you’ll begrudgingly find it.

“I won’t hurt you,” Joel says with conviction. “I’m takin’ care of you. If it hurts, it’s ‘cause it’s meant to help you. I’ve told ya that sometimes daddy will have to do that. Sometimes… I need to be hard on you ‘cause I care so much. But tell you what…” he pauses, a hand stroking the back of your hair, down to your neck, sweaty and damp. “We’ll come up w’ some punishments for when you’re not behavin’ for me together, that way daddy doesn’t lose control again, how about that?”

You nod in a shallow dip of your head and wait for him to go on. Your mind is so exhausted you can barely think or even process his words right now, let alone respond. The thought of coming up with your own punishments is just too much to bear right now.

“Good girl,” he says softly, his eyes boring into you, trying to get a read on your current thoughts. “I know daddy could do better, jus’ like you could do better to be a good girl. That make sense?”

Another nod. You feel defeated, the fact that you can’t seem to be the good girl he’s looking for starts to weigh heavier on you. It seems like you’ve done nothing but anger him and disappoint him, your mind starting to block out any of the positive moments from the last few days, spiraling as you focus on all the negative. Your body sags, your mind finally agreeing that the immediate threat Joel had posed seems to be over. You try to hold back the tears that want to spill out with the comedown and the assault of your racing thoughts on your psyche.

“Sweetheart,” Joel insists, feeling how you’ve gone slack in his hold, your eyes glassy and far away. He nudges underneath your chin again, being careful to stay gentle with you, tilting you to look up towards his searching eyes another time.

“You…” you manage to whimper out, trying to not allow fear to hold you back. “You…” you try again, your voice angrier this time. You want to yell and kick and scream, throw Joel off of you and give him a piece of your mind, tell him to get the hell away from you. The comedown from your fear is leaving you angry with regret coursing through you, finding you wish you’d never even put your hand on your stupid leg at the table, that none of this had happened. You start to cry again instead of unleashing your anger, cursing yourself as you twist your head away in shame.

He hugs you close and you fight the urge to throw your arms around him and let his huge, broad body cover yours and soothe you until it all feels better, just like you know he’s capable of. You know you’re only fighting the inevitable, your fists clenching and unclenching where they hang down, itching to feel his warmth. You let go, your spirit exhausted, and slowly slink your arms around his middle, feeling the muscles on his back move when he goes to hold you tighter.

“That’s it, that’s my girl…” he soothes, rubbing your back. “Hold on t’me.”

You sniffle into his chest, a few stray tears falling, but finding that you do feel a bit better now that you’ve let him comfort you. You do want to trust him and what he says. Joel is your best chance at survival right now, and considering he doesn’t seem intent on letting you go, it’s your only chance. If his rules are that you’re punished when you’re bad, you’re the one agreeing to them, aren’t you? Some part deep inside of you doesn't mind the idea of him putting you back in your place if you’ve broken his rules or upset him, but tonight was different. He was unhinged, someone you barely recognize, the worst you’d ever seen Joel - even more angry than when you’d tried to run from him. He said he didn’t want it to happen again, and maybe you were stupid for believing him, but you did. 

“Now, baby, will you trust me?” Joel says into your sniffling silence. “I wanna show you somethin’. Somethin’ you can do to show you trust me, ‘n somethin’ I can do to show how you’re mine, how I’ll take care of you.”

Your heart picks up a little, mind racing with what it could be. You don’t think you have it in you for any more surprises tonight. “Y-yes, daddy,” you murmur, turning your head to blink up at him for a beat.

“Hang on then, princess.” His smile is soft as he gingerly moves your wrists around his neck, draping them around himself. He lifts from your ass, his hands sliding down to settle on your upper thighs. You have no choice but to tuck yourself close and wrap your legs around him for support as he starts to carry you. 

He journeys with you up the stairs to the bedroom, setting you down onto your feet in front of the dresser. You cling to him for a moment, and he stops you when you try to pull away with a firm hand on your back. 

Joel opens one of the top drawers, pausing for a moment with the tiniest smirk as he looks upon what’s inside, that same drawer you had noticed him having a coy look at earlier. Your curiosity bites at you as you try to peek, but you don’t have to wait much longer before he turns towards you and looks at you with a serious expression. 

“Now, sugar, this is somethin’ special I’m gonna give you. Been waitin’ a long time f’this, for a special girl to give this to. Y’understand?”

You give him a hurried nod with your eyes wide and inquisitive. You feel a nervous pull in your stomach, something in that treacherous space between fear and arousal again, and wait for him.

“Good girl. Promise you’ll love it, showin’ daddy jus’ how much you trust him,” he says with a bit more energy back in his voice. You can feel his excitement growing palpably in the room with the two of you, his blunder downstairs seeming to be fading from his mind. He flashes you a quick, sinful smile before he turns away, reaching inside of the drawer. You wait with bated breath as he turns around, gripping something in his hands. He holds it up for you to get a better look, opening his large palms to let it sit flat.

Your mouth is agape as you try to form words, brows furrowing together as you process it, flashing your eyes back and forth from his hands to his face, unable to speak just yet. It hits you right in the gut, sending it twisting and you gasping quietly when you finally realize exactly what he wants to do with the leather piece he holds out for you. For his special girl… his pet.

dividers by @saradika-graphics!

smother - part vi: sanctification

dark!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: whether you're ready or not, joel is keen to take your virginity and your freedom. 9.7k words. chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI! noncon, dubcon - lack of enthusiastic consent & stockholm syndrome, coercion, reader is a virgin (not for long 🤪), big juicy age gap (reader is 19, joel is 55), ddlg/daddy dom! joel, sub!reader, fingering, squirting, unprotected piv, the v card is leaving the building, mild choking, corruption kink, pet names for reader (including a new favorite one), dirty talk, joel is just NAASTY y'all, reader has hair that can be grabbed onto, the start of some feelings??? if these darker tags aren't your cup of tea please keep scrolling! a/n: i'm in a hate literally every word i write phase right now but i poured over this chapter countless times and just have to get it out into the world. not very reassuring lmfao but i really hope it's living up to everyone's expectations and desires for the story and this big moment! sending love to everyone who has been commenting and encouraging me during my writing of this story ❤️

reminder i have no taglist anymore, follow @beardedjoel-updates to hear about my new fics!

“Kneel.”

Joel speaks the one word, eyes glued to you with that hungry glare of his. It’s beyond ravenous now, his body taut and buzzing as he grips the leather in his hands. 

His hand holds onto your hair and tilts your head upwards and far back to look straight up at where he dominates above you. Your breathing shakes, neck aching already. The moment is so serious, so tense that the air seems to go stale around you. Joel had taken your silent staring moments ago as a chance to explain, tell you exactly what he was holding and why. A collar, he’d said, starting the conversation. The word rendered you speechless all over again, your stomach twisting and turning, the space between your legs feeling that familiar throbbing again. You didn’t know why you felt turned on, and it just silenced you further, only leaving you the mental space to sink down to your knees when he’d asked you to. Let it all go.

“Let’s make things real clear, now, m’little sugar,” Joel says smoothly, bringing the collar down and letting it brush along your cheeks, dragging it across your face. You shudder, starting to tremble a bit, knees throbbing already as they press into the floor. “You wearin’ this is more ‘n somethin’ daddy likes, it means everythin’. It means… you belong to me, you got that?”

“Yes, sir,” you spit out quickly with a slight rasp, finding your voice. Joel gives a harsh tug on your hair before he drops it to kindly caress your other cheek, continuing to drag the leather along your face, shoulders and neck. Almost as if he can’t help himself, the movement descends into him gripping your chin, then your neck, squeezing lightly. 

“It means…” he continues, his eyes merely shadows in the quickly darkening room as the sun sets outside. He pulls both hands back, situating the collar in his hands, bringing it down to the correct position across your neck. You start to tremble harder without realizing it, your body frozen as you feel the leather touch the column of your throat, Joel’s hands wrapping it around you. He then stops, not quite clasping it yet, just holding it tight around your neck. “I own you, princess. You are mine. Every little piece. It’s mine.”

You just pant softly as his hold stays steady on the column of your throat, unable to speak. Why can’t you speak? Why can’t you move? Why does Joel paralyze you every single time into obedience with just his words?

“Now don’t go quiet on me. Repeat it back for daddy, sweetie, so I know you want this,” Joel commands, pulling the collar a little more taut. You inhale a strained breath and look at him from underneath your lashes.

“Y-you…” you choke out, feeling him go slightly tighter in warning. “You own me. I’m y-yours.” Your stomach flips again at the admission, knowing you’re getting further and further from a point of no return now. Ownership sounded pretty far gone already, you figure, and here you were, openly letting Joel claim that over you. You feel sickness rise up at the words coming out of your mouth, violent against that part of you that wants this, that feels hot anticipation at the thought of it. 

“Oh, good girl, that’s right, princess. You’re all mine.” Joel’s voice is full of eagerness, stuffed down and hidden in his controlled tone, but you can feel it. You whimper a little, terrified by the permanence of all of this, of just how much more you’re giving up to him. But you’d also be lying if you said this didn’t make you feel wild inside, that little part of you screaming out to be completely taken care of like this by Joel. To live an easy life, have everything you need, feel the freedom that he offered here. As ridiculous as it felt to say to yourself, he was offering you freedom from the constraints of your past life, it was just a new set of rules.

Joel catches your wandering gaze, the hesitancy in your expression. He tugs the collar harder against your flesh, his hands still wrapped around, waiting to complete the ritual. 

“This just shows the world you belong t’me. Shows me you’ll trust daddy to do what’s right. It’s a good thing, princess. I think…” A dramatic pause as he sighs softly. “That you’re ready f’this. Don’t you trust me?”

Your eyes lock on his. Do you? Joel hasn’t always been kind or perfect, but you suppose he’s never tried to hide exactly who he is from you. “Yes,” you whisper, casting your eyes downward before you can torture yourself further on it. Joel’s smirk spreads across his face, and he pulls the collar as tight as it’ll go, watching the quick flash of fear across your face before he lets up, softening the touch. 

“Eyes up here while I do this,” Joel says with an upward nod of his head and nudge to your chin. “Wanna see those pretty eyes while I make you mine.” You try to keep your gaze steady, studying Joel’s face, his lips parted greedily and eyes narrowed and wild looking. You think he just might be handsome like this, when he’s so enraptured by you and the current moment. His fingers work to start clasping the collar closed, moving with a slow reverence for the process, almost giving a feeling of respect for you. You wait with baited breath until he’s finished, leaving it tight but with enough room to breathe comfortably. You carefully continue to watch his face as he keeps his eyes trained on the new accessory around your neck, securing it and then tucking a finger between the leather and your skin, humming out a contented noise at what he feels.

“Fuck…” he grunts out softly. “So perfect… made for my baby…” He gives a little disbelieving shake of his head while he stares straight at your neck, drinking the sight in like he’s been parched for days and you’re the only balm he needs. 

“Not too tight?” he asks quietly, and you feel your eyes grow wider when he glances up to them, catching your gaze. You shake your head, your skin tingling where the collar is touching, burning up with a strange, animalistic fever for him right now. You just sit, knees pressed hard into the rug that surrounds Joel’s bed, staying silent with your mouth slightly ajar.

“What’s that look for, hm, sugar?” Joel asks, arching a brow. His face morphs into a lighter, teasing expression, clearly beyond pleased with himself and you right now.

“I- I don’t know…” you stutter out. Your eyes drop, scanning the room with a sightless stare, your mind reeling as you travel deep into your thoughts. “I’m just…” You try again, sighing out in frustration at your lack of vocabulary, lack of being able to even understand what you’re feeling right now. 

“Can I see it?” you finally ask with a little more determination. Joel continues to smirk, tilting his head at you, a flash of surprise in his eyes but he blinks it away, acting as if he’d expected you to ask that question. 

“Of course, princess,” he replies softly, offering you his hand. You grip onto it tightly and Joel helps to pull you up from where you kneel, swiftly sliding a hand around you with the motion, guiding you with it pressed against the small of your back. He leads you to the large mirror above the dresser, just across the room from where you two had been, and as you approach, the sight that greets you turns your stomach and sends a skitter of sparks up your spine. Joel’s arm, protectively, possessively wrapped tightly around you, his body crowding close. Your face looks… different than usual, you think, but maybe it’s just your mind playing tricks on you. You step closer, Joel following like he’s glued to you, the smirk on his face not fading in the least. His eyes roam over your scantily clad body through your reflection, landing once again on your neck. It makes you shiver, the way you can see what he sees right now, what his eyes are hungry for. You realize now you’ve never seen you and Joel together like this.

“Go on, look at it,” Joel insists, pressing you forward until the front of your body is against the dresser, as close as you can get to the mirror. You lean forward, inspecting the collar - a relatively thin, dainty black band, nothing so thick it takes up your whole neck. It’s almost tasteful in its sleekness, complete with an o-ring hanging off of the front. You’re afraid to question what it might be for, already having a hunch, but you find yourself slowly bringing your hand up to toy with the ring anyhow. Joel’s watchful eyes follow your hands to where you hold the ring between your fingers, inspecting the entire collar, the way it only covers a fraction of the still fading marks Joel had left on your neck the other night. 

“What do you think, my little blossom?” Joel asks, leaning over slightly to kiss the side of your head. Your brows twitch inward, your sight tearing away from the collar to find him in the mirror. “What? You like the new nickname, baby?” Joel questions in that cocky tone of his he uses when he already knows the answer. He kisses the side of your head again, planting several more on your hair while he watches you in the mirror. Your open mouth twitches to a small smile as you breathe out the tiniest chuckle. 

“It’s cute…” you say with a sudden shyness, feeling your face burning at his special attention.

“Mm, jus’ like you,” Joel teases, his lips trailing downwards, craning his head towards your neck. “My cute little blossom. All mine, ain’t she?”

You nod silently as Joel’s lips brush the sensitive skin near your ear and you shudder. His fingers quickly slip underneath the collar at the back of your neck and tug hard, yanking your neck back with a choked gasp flying out of your mouth.

“Use. Your. Words.” Joel reminds you, using the collar to maneuver your head further back towards him.

“Y-yes, daddy. All yours,” you quickly spit out, shaking as your body responds to the beginning of what it's perceiving as a threat. But you aren’t sure anymore if your mind can discern the difference, if you truly feel threatened by him anymore. Maybe this was Joel’s way of cherishing you, of keeping you, reminding you where you belong now.

“That’s right. Good girl,” Joel replies, giving the collar another tug, softer and more loving this time. 

“Now you’re gonna be good ‘n watch while daddy makes you feel good, yeah? Watch how much y’want it,” Joel says, wrapping a hand around you, landing right under your breasts. His eyes dart there at your hardened nipples pressing against the fabric before they flick back to your face.

You find a soft, curious grin pulling at your mouth, letting yourself give him the satisfaction of making you smile. “W-watch it?” you ask warily, feeling your face warming at the idea.

Joel nods, nuzzling his nose into your hair and breathing in. “Mhm, that’s right. Help you learn, babygirl - why it’s all so wonderful, all the things you’ve been missin’.”

“O-okay…” you mumble hesitantly, trying to learn to trust him. You watch as Joel’s hand snakes over your belly, fingers splayed out as his large hand roams downward, ending between your legs. He bunches the thin fabric of your nightgown as he moves, bringing it between your legs where he cups your bare pussy, your underwear long gone down in the kitchen from where he’d cut them off. You whimper quietly, the anticipation of what's to come already building up, your body seeming to pick up where you’d left off earlier before Joel’s outburst. 

You breathe out a soft moan as his whole hand rubs your cunt, the fabric gathering up your desperately poured out slick as he goes, watching your face intently as your eyes start to mist over with desire. His dark eyes look so handsome as you meet them, slightly narrowed, his sharp glare so knowing, so confident in what he’s doing to you.

“Daddy…” you whimper quietly, your body pressing backwards, ass grinding into his crotch, hips bearing down onto his hand slightly. “Please…”

“Beggin’ for daddy…” he chortles, “And to think y’were tryna’ run from me, run from this…” Joel’s hand starts to force aside the bottom hem of your dress, slipping underneath so that his calloused fingers brush along your bare thighs. Your spine feels alight with the shiver that travels upwards as his warm hands find your chilled skin. Joel’s lips find your neck once again, nipping lightly above the new collar. He finds himself attaching his mouth to the skin, sucking another fresh mark on you. He trains his eyes on your face as he does it, watching you watch him. Your breathing is ragged, the view you have so sexual and intimate, beyond anything you’d ever have imagined seeing in your life. You’d never known you were missing something so divine yet so dirty, it’s own form of worship that you’d never been clued in on. That’s what Joel is doing, you realize, as his fingers find your slit, gently skimming the outside of your lips while his mouth tickles your neck - he’s worshiping you. Worshiping our body, what you give to him, what he can take from you.

“An’ you wouldn’t even think of doin’ that now, would you? Not after you’ve seen what daddy can give you, hm?” His fingers inch closer and closer to where you need them, your vision cloudy and mind vacant of anything but this feeling.

“N-no, sir, never…” you say, thinking it might be half a lie, but you can’t imagine wanting to leave when you’re well on your way to heaven right this second. Joel’s hand holds steady on the back of your collar, forcefully bringing your head further back, allowing him to admire the column of your throat as the new symbol of his ownership rests tightly against it.

“Not when I own you now… a man’s property can’t ever really get away from him, can it… ‘Cause if it did, he’d find it,” he murmurs close to your ear, threatening and quiet. You look on at your mouth popping open in the mirror as two of his deliciously thick fingers slide inside of you, easily guided along as your fluttering pussy eagerly accepts them. “This is mine. Whenever I please. Whenever I want, whatever I want.”

“Oh…” you moan out quietly, feeling tears sting at your eyes, unsure of why they’re even there in the first place. It feels so good, such a welcome relief, contrasted by his words that threaten to crush your very existence down into a hole for him to fill whenever he desires. But half of you wants that, wants to please him, to make him want you and keep you so that you’ll be taken care of. Joel says those things because that’s how he can be good to you, you realize. That is what he has to give, maybe all he has - that role where you’re under his thumb, where he owns every bit of you.

“You like that, hm? Desperate to be used up by daddy, aren’t you? To watch in this mirror while I fuck you with my fingers? Make my little girl feel good?” Joel grits out, his fingers retreating and then entering you again, tortuously slow. He smirks, his cheek pressed against the side of your head while your eyes are transfixed between your legs where his fingers disappear inside of you over and over again. You whimper fearfully when he tightens the hold on the collar again, stealing your breath away for a brief second as your trachea adjusts to the new level of pressure.

“Shh, shh,” Joel coos quietly. “Feels good, baby, I know.”

You strain out a tiny sound, somewhere between a cry and a moan when his fingers curl inside of you, touching the spot that makes your knees start to wobble. 

“Wh-wh-” you stutter out in a rasp, trying to understand. Your breathing labors further as Joel’s smirk grows more sinister, his hold more absolute on the collar.

“You wonderin’ ‘bout this special spot, aren’t you, blossom?” 

You nod, the motion only serving to cut your air off further, and you still your head back against his shoulder, trying to catch your breath. Joel responds first with another devastating curl of his fingers, sending your eyes rolling back, losing focus.

“See, you’ve got this special spot that feels extra good inside here, and only daddy can reach it f’you. Bet those little fingers of yours couldn’t do it even if you tried.” He tuts mournfully for you at that fact before he smirks again. “Only me,” he clarifies, tyrannical as ever with his brows crinkled together. You stare on with your mouth agape, your knees going more unsteady as he presses against it again, moving his fingers in and out of you harder each time. You cry out, your belly warm and taut each time he does the motion, building up tension as it starts threatening to release.

“I… it…” you whimper. “So good…” you mumble in between breathy moans, unable to control your body now as it wobbles and grinds down into his hand. His fingers squelch and slip through all of the slickness, and your mind reels with the way you react to him, unable to even understand how your body just knows, how it responds so willingly and abundantly for such a dangerous, sick man. 

Joel picks up his pace at your praising words, pressing hard on that spot and keeping the same rigid hold on your neck. Your hands fly up to clutch at the collar, your body starting to go into some kind of fight or flight mode, desperate for just a little more air after going without it.

“Pl-” you start to beg in a croaking voice, but Joel swiftly cuts you off.

“Not ‘till you come, my pretty girl,” he announces, kissing the side of your cheek and moving to your neck, the sensation overwhelming on top of everything else. Your whole body starts to sweat, heat sweeping over your skin, the spot right where he’s touching deep inside of you radiating outwards in a tingling sensation as you feel yourself start to get lost in it.

“Daddy…” you mumble, the word cutting off into a moan as your core tightens, spasms starting to rock through you. “Daddy,” you cry more urgently, eyes fluttering shut.

“Eyes open,” Joel barks sharply, giving the collar a tug, and you snap your eyes back open to watch, and see your body convulsing in his hold as your climax washes over you. Joel stuffs you so hard it almost starts to hurt, pumping his fingers rapidly before shoving them so far in you nearly scream out with the pleasure it brings when he stretches you and pushes on the spongy bit inside of you with all that he’s got. “Fuck…” he mumbles, feeling your slick pouring out in plenty, a never ending well of how badly you want him.

“Oh… it’s so…” you cry out loudly in a panic, hands clawing backwards to reach for Joel, gripping onto anything you can find - the fabric of his shirt, his hip. The sensation builds to a desperate level, then something more you’ve never felt before as it tears through you. “Daddy!” you yell loudly, nearly scared of the reaction your body is having as you feel a sudden gush spilling out of you at the tail end of your climax. You watch in horror at the way your dress gets soaked, the fabric going more translucent with the wetness, eyes wide and urgently searching for answers.

“God damn! Fuck,” Joel punches out eagerly, his breathing hot and heavy right against the shell of your ear while he frantically continues to pump his fingers. “Who woulda thought… first time tryin’, too…” Joel muses to himself, eyes fixated on the same stain on your dress.

You whimper as tears roll down your cheeks, your entire body quaking with the spasms while you come down. Joel’s fingers start to idle, staying inside of you while he looks on in amazement. His hand releases at the back of your neck and you suck in a greedy, shaky breath, chest heaving.

“That’s a very good girl for daddy, y’know that? Daddy’s messy little girl,” he says pleasingly, pecking the side of your head with a few sloppy kisses while he pulls his now shining fingers out of you, absentmindedly bringing them to his mouth and sucking on them. You shake your head in response, finding his gaze with your watery eyes.

Joel reads your lost, alarmed expression and starts to stroke the back of your head. “Shh, it’s okay, sweetheart, you did a good job. That jus’ means you really liked what daddy did to ya, okay? Nothin’ bad, nothin’ scary, promise.”

You feel a slight twinge of relief pass through you and nod wordlessly, letting your body start to settle, your heart rate calming. Joel grips you by the shoulders, spinning you to face him, looking down at you with a satisfied smile.

“You’ve made daddy real happy jus’ now,” he says, stroking along your hairline, fingers curling behind your ears. His eyes bounce around your face, taking in the way you’re glowing a bit, a thin layer of sweat on your forehead. “I wanna reward you.”

You furrow your brow, looking with expectation as you wait for him to continue. “A r-reward?” Your heart jumps a little at the idea, finding the urge to be rewarded by him stronger than you’d realized. The idea is so appealing - pleasing him to the point where he wants to give back in return - it makes your stomach flutter suddenly. You blink up at him, allowing yourself to get a little lost in his dark brown eyes for just a beat. He presses closer, completely closing you in against the dresser and you can feel how hard he is, his cock straining against his jeans when they brush against your center.

“Mhm,” Joel replies. “I think you’re ready, baby,” Joel says tenderly, bringing a gentle hand up to trace along your cheekbone. 

“Ready…?” you repeat back meekly, feeling your gut swirl with an unhealthy thrill countered by a quick flash of fear. “I don’t… I-” you mumble, shaking your head, knowing your anxiety at the idea is showing clearly on your face. One of Joel’s hands interlocks with yours, and he starts walking backwards as he pulls you along to the bed.

“Y’wanna know why…” he starts, reaching the end of the bed with you, maneuvering your body and gently, silently demanding you downwards, your ass falling to the bed with a small bounce in your wake. You try to catch your breath, caught in your now swollen feeling throat, your body starting to shake as you see his obvious bulge inside the denim come face to face with you. “...I started to call you my little blossom?” 

You tear your eyes away from his crotch to meet his eyes, dark chocolate swirling with the voracious need to feast on you, take this last part of your soul away. You nod, licking your dry lips before worrying on the inside skin of them.

“W-why…?” you ask timidly.

Joel’s body moves, starting to crowd in on you, sending you scampering back on the bed a bit to accommodate him. He climbs up, crawling over top of your body, his hulking form lurking above you in a way that makes you feel hot all over. One arm keeps him balanced while the other cups your face, his eyes softening as he gazes down at your worry stricken face “‘Cause you’re delicate, baby, so precious t’me. An’ I’m about to watch you blossom, help you become a woman. Show you what your body was meant to do.”

You let out a shaky breath as he gives you a keen look, hands reaching for his waistband, unzipping and starting to wriggle his way out of his jeans. He pauses to lean down and kiss you, his lips eagerly meeting yours, trying to soothe the look of concern on your face.

“Shh, shh, I’m gonna make sure it’s proper for you, baby, my sweet little thing. You’re gonna be so happy you gave this special moment to daddy, promise ya.”

You swallow hard and nod, knowing that the surety isn’t reaching your eyes, that Joel can still see the fear in them. You can see it practically spur him on - the more your fear increases, the more turned on he gets. He likes knowing you’re so nervous, that you don’t know what to expect. Your inexperience is his power, his way of keeping you right where he wants you. You don’t know what you want anymore, all of it feeling like some figment of Joel’s desires that are nestled inside of you now, taking over. Do you want Joel to do this right now? Are you ready to give this part of you over to him yet? You’d been taught so much in the opposite vein that it’s messing with your head, the way you crave exactly what you’re not supposed to have yet.

You don’t know how to get your thoughts straight, your mind trying to push through what feels like a swirling cloud of thick fog, unable to see clearly through it all. You lay motionless, though, as Joel’s hands explore your body, running down your arms and landing on your thighs, bunching your gown up in his hands.

“Your dress now, honey,” Joel coos, starting to lift from the bottom, easily sliding it off of you, leaving your body fully exposed to him in mere seconds. The one protection you had is off and tossed to the side before you can even think to protest. You body curls in on itself slightly as Joel moves off of you, quickly standing off the bed to start shucking off his jeans. As he’s pulling his flannel down his arms, he narrows his eyes in your direction.

“Don’t hide yourself, sweetheart. Straighten out, now, lemme see you. Nothin’ to be embarrassed ‘bout.” Your cheeks burn at the way he’s called you out, and you try to unfurl yourself, letting your legs fall open, spread for him, and put your arms at your sides. Your heart thunders in your chest, the reality of it all crashing down and hitting you when Joel starts to strip down his briefs, revealing everything to you. His cock is massive, bigger than you’d remembered in your mind's eye, and you fight the urge to wince at its angry, dripping head, oh so desperate to fill you up. Or, at least you think that’s where it's going.

He starts climbing back onto the bed, crawling over you like a predator, his eyes flickering quickly in the warm, dusk light that streams in through the windows.

“Mmm,” he murmurs sensually, sending a wave of heat over your skin at the primal sound, the way you can feel his bare flesh starting to come together with yours. “Fuck, so pretty, aren’t you? Gonna look so good w’my cock between your legs.” He’s becoming more vulgar by the second, the conqueror in him swelling with excitement, overtaking Joel’s rational brain. You wince audibly when he brings himself down, and you feel the head of his cock brush your leg, squeezing your eyes shut for a brief second.

“I-it’s going… in there?” You swallow down the lump in your throat when his greedy smile answers for you. “P-promise it won’t hurt?” you ask through watery eyes, finding yourself tearing up and trembling as you try to keep still to not upset him.

Joel simpers, cocking his head at you. “Oh, my sweet girl. Sweet as honey…” he marvels, leaning down to kiss your tear stained cheeks. “Your body is made for this, sugar. But I can’t promise this might not hurt some. I’ll just do a little bit, mkay?”

“I d-don’t think…” you start, shaking your head violently as you glance down in between your bodies, seeing the monstrosity of his cock eagerly making its way towards the apex of your thighs. “It w-won’t…”

Joel’s hands move to pin your wrists down, making your breath pick up in a panic, fighting every urge to struggle against the hold - you know what happens when you upset him. “C’mon, sugar, it’ll just be a little bit f’now. You’re ready for this, babygirl.” Joel says with an impatient air as he repositions himself over top of you, his weight pressing down on your body. It makes you feel even more breathless to have him crowding you like this, his thick cock terrifying the hell out of you as you picture any part of it entering you.

“I- it’s not gonna fit,” you cry out, shaking your head desperately, hoping he sees the fear in your eyes and it slows him down, makes him reconsider.

His hand comes to your cheek, the back of it stroking down one time before tracing a finger along your lip, before shoving two of them inside your mouth, effectively gagging you. “Shh, s’okay. Promise it’ll just be a little bit. Only hurt for a second,” he tells you, and you consider his words, having nothing else to go on but his promises. You suck instinctively on his fingers as you brace yourself, eliciting a tiny groan from Joel before he pops them back out.

He doesn’t wait, doesn’t seem to care about hearing any response or protestations as he sinks his hips down, the head of his cock bursting into your tight hole. He keeps his word for now, just pushing in the slightest bit but you feel like you’re being split open already, your walls pulsating around him as a burning sensation takes over. You blanch and whine, ragged breaths ringing out into the room.

“Fuck…” he moans loudly, pressing his hips down a little more. You wince again, drawing a sharp breath in through your teeth as you grimace. A quiet ow leaves your lips and Joel shushes you, pushing himself further into your tight heat. You try to keep yourself quiet, terrified of what’s happening to you, and the wrath you could endure if things don’t go Joel’s way. The burn is becoming unbearable though, your body unable to accommodate his size just yet as he inches in.

“Doin’ so good, such a good girl,” he says with a quiet whimper, finally meeting your eyes for a brief second, finding them wet and glistening, seeming to ignore it. “God, oh, god, fuck,” he groans into your shoulder, burying his face further. He bites down on your skin, teeth sinking right into your shoulder as he groans louder, more animalistic this time. You hold back a sob as he bites harder before pulling back and sucking hard, surely leaving a new, memorable mark. 

“Jesus Christ, fuckin’ perfect little cunt. God it’s all mine…” His breathing is erratic, all over the place now, breathy little curses flying out of him as he slips himself further inside of you.

“It h-hurts, daddy…” you whine, but immediately feel it fall on deaf ears as Joel zealously nibbles at your neck as he pulls the little bit of his cock out and pushes right back in, starting a slow rhythm with his hips. After a few pulses he thrusts in a little deeper, releasing an untamed, broken sound from deep in his chest before pulling the skin of your neck between his lips again. 

“Daddy, please…”

“Shh, shh, y’just gotta adjust,” Joel says in between marking you, his teeth and tongue scraping along your fragile skin around your pulse point. You whimper quietly, hoping he’s right, that the burning sensation will stop soon. You’ve lost him completely now, though, you realize, as he moves with more vigor, each time his cock slides in more until he’s pushing past your tightness, your pain, and you cry out. Your hands flash up to his shoulder, grabbing on tightly, fingers digging into his skin as you squeeze it through the pain.

“C’mon sweets, daddy needs this, he’s been waitin’ too long f’this. Shush now. Don’t act like y’don’t want this,” Joel mumbles with a few more gentle kisses along your neck down to your collarbone. His hips snap a little quicker, starting to jostle you and you whimper and whine to no avail. He’s so big, your tightness working quickly to try to accommodate his quickening intrusions.

“Okay, baby,” Joel says with a sigh, finally seeming to see some reason as his voice changes to a softer tone from the needy, detached one he’d had just moments ago. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, honey.” He catches your eye, seeing your tears on the verge of spilling out and smiles more kindly at you, stopping his hips completely. “Got carried away w’ya, it jus’ feels so good for daddy.”

You nod, brows furrowing together with worry as you welcome the stillness of his hips. Joel’s hands come to your face, gripping your cheeks, letting his thumbs rub soothing circles along your jawline. “Now jus’ take a deep breath, breathe w’me, I’m gonna go a little more.” Joel imitates a deep breath and you try to follow his lead, your own breath coming out shaky as hell while your body continues holding every last shred of tension it’s hanging on to.

“Breathe…” he reminds you, seeing how tense you’re holding yourself, how tight your chest looks as you keep your breath in. “Jus’ relax…”

“I-I can’t… it’s too much already.” You shake your head as you feel Joel bearing his hips down, the sting of his cock inside of you starting all over again You feel fat, fearful tears trickle down onto Joel’s large hands, little rivulets sneaking through by his knuckles.

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head, curls of hair falling down onto his forehead where he balances above you. “It’s not too much, you were made to take daddy’s cock, thas’ what your body was made for. Jus’ breathe…”

You start to let go on your next breath out, your entire body relaxing as you slump down into the mattress. “There ya go…” he coos, leaning down to capture your lips. Need blossoms in your core at the wet warmth meeting your own and you moan quietly, starting to bask more in the feeling of fullness now. Joel lets his tongue dance into your mouth and you accept it hungrily, starting to feel more confident in the way you’re kissing him when he lets out a pleasured sigh. 

Joel reaches down to hoist your hips up slowly, angling them upwards as he presses in again. He nudges your calves, coaxing you to wrap them around him. “C’mon now, put your legs ‘round me,” he instructs you right against your lips, and you pull your trembling legs around his waist, trying to support yourself against his body. His hips start to move ever so slowly, so that you almost don’t notice that it’s happening yet, too caught up in how incredible it feels to kiss him, feel his needy lips devour you. You shudder when you feel his thick girth slide further now, but Joel keeps his lips on yours, other hand buried back against your head, cradling it.

“Mmm.” Joel pulls back with a groan, “Feel ya, sweetheart. Can feel you feelin’ good now,” he comments, looking down at you with a curious gaze. “‘M right, aren’t I?” he asks with a cocky air, hips grinding slow and steady. It makes your breath hitch when he reaches a new depth and you nod with a more perky livelihood about you. You’re finally starting to understand everything, how it feels to fit together with a man like this, how it can feel good, just like you’d heard people say.

“Mhm…” you whimper quietly in reply, your hips twitching into his. It sends Joel’s own hips rolling forward and your back arches automatically when you feel his depth reach further than you could have dreamed of. Your insides nearly want to burst, the pleasant pulse of your cunt wrapping around his cock making you squirm in pleasure. While it still burns, you’re finding more bliss in the pain, excitement at the way you can feel so much of him.

“Guess what, princess?” Joel asks amusedly, peppering a few kisses along your chin before catching the corner of your mouth. Your desperate lips try to meet his, just missing as he pulls away.

“Hmm?”

“‘M all the way inside you now. Did such a good job.” The look of pride and satisfaction on his face stirs your heart in a foreign way, making your gut tingle pleasantly.

You blink in surprise, hardly able to believe the entirety of the massive appendage you’d laid eyes on earlier could fit… down there. “R-really?” you ask shyly.

You want to glance down but your heart beats out of your chest, afraid to see something so… intimate… so nearly pornographic. Even after what you’d witnessed in the mirror earlier it still makes your cheeks burn hot to even think about, so you keep your eyes on Joel’s, but he’s already looking down, watching his body connect with yours as he starts to move again, a bit faster than he has yet.

“Go on and see f’yourself. It’s fuckin’ gorgeous, sugar.” He notices your hesitation, the way your mouth goes dry and how you bite the inside of your lip. “Don’t be shy, c’mon now, it’s beautiful ‘n natural, what we’re doin.” 

He places his hand on top of your head, gathering a bit of your hair in his hand as he forcefully tilts your head downward. Your jaw falls slack and your eyes barely blink as you stare at the sight below - Joel’s girth sliding in and out of your spread pussy, disappearing over and over. The both of you slick and shiny, something you can see and hear as his quicker movements start to fill the room with wet, sloppy sounds. You feel him kiss something deep inside of your body each time he fully thrusts himself in and your mouth starts to water at the lewd sight, unable to take your eyes off of it. Eyes sparkling in complete wonder and curiosity, mouth agape as you stare. 

“Thas’ right, ain’t it beautiful? Look how good you’re takin’ me, little blossom.” 

You just nod in disbelief before Joel pulls your head back to his level, making eye contact with you. He rolls his hips more quickly now, snapping into you with a power that starts to take your breath away and he watches carefully as your face twitches into a contorted look of pleasure.

He hasn’t let go of your hair yet, tugging it to pull your head back and expose your neck. Joel licks his lips before diving down, licking a stripe up your neck to your jawline, tongue passing over the rough leather of your collar. His lips find a spot and suck hard before pulling away, glancing up at you to see your eyes rolling back at all the sensations you’re experiencing. He continues to press himself up to the hilt with each bounce of his hips, and it’s starting to build a steady warmth deep inside, spreading from where the tip of his cock presses and upwards, filling your entire core. The little whimper you let out has Joel reeling, moving himself more urgently, losing himself to you.

“Yeah? Like the way daddy’s cock fills you up after all, huh?” he grits out as his breathing picks up with the effort. You moan when he hikes your hips up slightly and his length presses in on something amazing with each thrust, that spongy part deep inside once again. You choke on air, eyes flying open wider and staring at him. Your hands scramble up to clutch onto his neck as the feeling intensifies with the speed of his rhythm. 

“Daddy…?” you pant out, feeling completely overwhelmed but unable to stop chasing the feeling, your hands gripping tighter around his neck and your back arching. A familiar fire burns inside your belly, growing with each thrust, blooming outward.

“Shh, let it happen, baby, squeeze daddy’s cock for the first time, s’gonna feel so good.” He kisses you again, now knowing it's something that seems to make you feel safer and you gladly accept his mouth another time, kissing him back as you try to breathe in between the meetings of your mouths. You resolve yourself to moaning against him, the sound becoming more uncontrollable as you feel the white heat licking at your lower belly, all other senses starting to fade out.

“Oh… oh my god….” you cry out. “Daddy… please… you….”

“I know, c’mon princess.” Joel urges you on, hands reaching to grasp at the plush flesh of your hips, anchoring you in place to pound into you. You whimper and cry, soreness and pleasure mixing in beautiful harmony while you’re stretched to new limits. Finally, you feel yourself diving off that cliff, the edge giving way and you fall into beautiful bliss, clenching powerfully around Joel’s cock, spasming while you whimper louder and moan, barely able to catch your breath. It’s unlike anything else, unlike the way he’s touched you so far, the other ways he’s made you feel good. It hooks into you so much deeper, the high so much more full and round as your vision explodes with stars and then goes white while you ride your climax, barely aware of the way Joel is moving now. 

“Good fuckin’ girl, god damn it, good girl, good good girl…” Joel murmurs a string of praises, intently watching your face go through the range of new emotions while you come hard all over his aching cock. He can barely contain himself, pumping frantically while your hold tightens around his shoulders even further, urging him to bring himself closer to you. His body is slick with sweat as it connects with yours, merely a limp form laying on the mattress now, trying to find a grip on reality. Joel continues to use you, jacking himself towards completion with your spent cunt, grunting out expletives.

“Ain’t gonna last, baby, not w’the way your tight little virgin pussy is squeezin’ me, god damn it,” Joel tells you, grunting louder. “Fuck, gonna fuck my cum into you, aren’t I? Make you all mine, finally…”

“Y-yours…” you murmur quietly with a wanton moan, brain fried while his cock is still hitting the deepest, now overstimulated parts of you. You have the urge to skitter away, your body hot and sore, every nerve lit up and on edge. Your head lolls to the side, then back straight, finally opening your eyes again to look at Joel. He’s gone red, veins on his forehead protruding with the strain, the effort of even holding out this long, knowing he’s gotten everything he wanted now. He’s shining with sweat, his curls bouncing along in front of his face where they hang down and you marvel at him, the most vulnerable you may have ever seen him. It makes you smile, for some reason, and Joel loses it completely at your willful smile, stuttering out something incoherent before his head is thrown back and he groans loudly, his hips stalling deep inside of you. You watch the veins of his neck pulse while you feel his cock twitch, spilling everything he has. You take in the moment, breathing heavily along with Joel as he trembles, trying to hold himself above you. 

“Christ,” he rumbles, nearly collapsing before rolling off, exiting you with a loud squelch that makes your mind reel a bit. Your breath catches for a moment while you feel Joel’s spend leaking out of you, hand silently reaching down between your legs to investigate. Your hand is met with so much… wetness that it makes your eyes pop open wider for a moment. Joel is lounging with his eyes shut, gathering himself until he hears a quiet squelch, peeking his eyes open to see you in a mystified state, hand between your legs, but little pleasure written on your face.

“I-is that…?” you question in a hushed tone. You’d seen Joel’s cum before, even felt it the other morning when he’d forced your hand, but this was so different now, the fact that it had been inside of you like that made you shiver for some reason.

Joel chuckles, his arms curling around you protectively, sliding himself close as he brings you against his broad chest, all warmth and strength radiating off of him. 

“Thas’ both of us, right there,” he tells you proudly, chest puffed out, riding the high of his dominance, his claim over you. “Means we did it right. Made a fuckin’ mess of you.”

“Huh,” you whisper quietly, pulling your hand away and wiping it on your thigh, leaving a streak of slickness there. You lay quietly now as you process everything, letting Joel hold onto you. The reality of this night is still sinking in, the fact that something you’ve been told your entire life is wrong outside of their set confines just happened like it was no big deal. It was already over. And you were still… you. Nothing had changed, apart from the aching soreness that now tore through you between your legs. Joel peers over at you, eyes glued to the ceiling, hands laying firm at your sides, chest gently rising and falling. 

“Hey little one,” he says softly, turning to face you. “What’s goin’ on in that pretty head, hm?” 

You shake said pretty head, unsure of what to say, how to articulate it.

“Talk to daddy,” he insists, curling you even closer. You slowly find your hand wrapping around him and landing up by his shoulder, seeking comfort.

“I… I’m the same…” you murmur, knowing it sounds stupid, nearly incoherent. You’re surprised that Joel catches your vague meaning, his eyebrows raising the tiniest bit as he listens.

“No, baby, you’re not,” Joel replies, his voice soft as ever as he thumbs your chin. “Means you’re all daddy’s now, that I’ve got a special part of you. That don’t mean anythin’ to you?” His tone sounds hurt, and you quickly backtrack in your thinking, trying to figure out how to soothe him.

“N-no… it’s not that,” you reply quickly, flashing him a cramped smile. “I… think all of that is t-true. I just mean…” You stumble on your words, thinking for a second. “It wasn’t… bad. I’m not bad for it.” 

Joel smiles a little, letting out a chuckle. “‘Course you’re not - you’re my sweet little girl. This is the most beautiful, natural thing in the world f’us to do, my lil’ blossom. So good…” His lips find the top of your head and kiss you. You feel relief, almost like this weight lifted off of your shoulders now that this mysterious, unknown universe has been revealed to you. You’re lighter for it, a more real grin grazing your lips while you look at Joel with hope. 

Your cheeks burn hot as you consider your next question to him. “S-so it’s okay? We can do that more?”

“Christ,” Joel chuckles out. “We can do that all the time, sweetheart. Plannin’ on it, in fact.”

“Hmm,” you murmur, pressing your lips together at the pleasant thought of that. While it hadn’t started out like you’d imagined, by the end of it all Joel had left you a satisfied, shaking mess. And you think you’d like to explore those feelings more despite how conflicted you are about all of it.

“You liked it, didn’t you, sweetheart?” Joel flirts. “S’okay to admit you want to be sexual to daddy, you know that, right? Ain’t a thing wrong with it.”

You nod shyly, finding your cheeks warming up all the to your ears, though, still not quite sure if you’re ready to go that far. “W-was…” You clear your throat, swallowing. “Was I good at that? At doing… it?”

Joel laughs, a little chuckle that feels genuine as it echoes across the room. “God, baby, you’re too precious. Almost wanna keep you like this forever, so sweet ‘n innocent.” He squeezes you tightly for a second, squishing you against his chest. “Yes, honey, yes, you did such a good job f’me. You’ll get used to it some more soon an’ it’ll be more fun, sugar.”

You chew on your lip, thinking silently for too long. Joel notices, angling his head to look down at your face. 

“Y’seem unlike yourself, darlin’. See those wheels turnin’ in there,” he says, giving you a soft, playful tap on the center of your forehead. 

“Daddy,” you mumble, shifting uncomfortably. You steel yourself, unsure of how your blatant question could be perceived, if it’ll rock the boat too much, send Joel into a fury.  “I just - why do you want me here? Is it just… for that stuff?”

Joel sighs, his body going a little slack underneath you as you glance at his stricken expression, his lips pressed into a thin line. “My sweet princess…” he starts with another long sigh. “I’m gonna answer this, but I want you to never ask me somethin’ like this again. You got that? Consider it talkin’ back, which, well, daddy doesn’t like.”

You huff out a breath before you can stop yourself. “I don’t know what you like, ‘cause you won’t just tell me,” you snip with irritation. “Not until it’s too late and you’re hurting me.” You cast your eyes away, finding the frustration bubbling inside of you leading to another set of embarrassing tears. 

“Oh, honey,” Joel says quietly. “You’re right… I ain’t been clear enough, have I? You have so, so much to learn…” His hand wraps around the back of your head, stroking gently. “An’ I get ahead of myself. I’ll lay things out real clear in some rules, how’s that sound?”

“Yes, please, sir. I- I don’t want to be scared of doing something wrong anymore. I feel so… tired… of being scared.” Your voice cracks a little on your final words, eyes burning with the threat of tears for a countless time since you’d arrived here and you curse yourself, clenching your teeth. You’re surprised at his reaction, though, grateful it seems to be leading to something productive instead of his teeth or hands or worse drawing blood from you.

“Shh, okay, my sweetheart.” Joel’s hand traces soothingly along your scalp. “I got you. You won’t have to worry. Tomorrow we’ll lay out all the rules, hm? Get you to write them down like the good girl you are. Like I’m your teacher in a class, an’ you wanna be my top student. How’s that sound?” He teases, his voice lifting with a sweeter, humorous quality, one of his hands skating along your side to send you twitching as he tickles you. You giggle, swatting his hand away without much effort, allowing him to feel whenever he desires. You finally turn your eyes back to his face and give him a small, more hopeful smile. 

“You really will?” you ask. Joel nods sincerely. “Yes, please then… uh, sir.” 

“Polite,” Joel whispers the small praise before his lips find yours and he kisses you deeply, a soft groan slipping out against your lips. You melt at the feel of his expert, plush lips and his strong body pressed against yours, so warm and inviting in the chill of the bedroom. Just when you feel that primal need for him start to pull at you again, which mesmerizes you that it’s so soon after you’d just finished, Joel pulls back, his breathing a little heavy while his fingers trace up and down your bare arms.  

“The answer is no, blossom,” he announces. You’ve heard his tone like this before - kind, understanding, and so in contrast to his other side you feel you’ve seen equally as often. “It’s not just for sex. ‘M gonna need all that from you, sweets, but you give me so much more’n that, you understand? Don’t ever doubt it again, neither. Daddy would never use you jus’ for that - you’re my everythin’ now, my special girl to take care of and keep close t’me. You make daddy so much less lonely.”

You feel your lips parting in wonder during his small speech, the words more tender than what you’ve heard from him so far. It sends your heartbeat picking up a few paces wondering if he could be telling you the truth right now. Did he really see all of that in you? Someone like you - ordinary, never called out to be special in any way before. Even in your community, at home with your parents, then Harry and Josie, you’d always felt you were kept more in the dark than anyone else. You’d started wondering if it was because Harry, Josephine, and the rest of the group hadn’t deemed you important enough, didn’t really see you. 

But Joel. Oh, he saw you. He saw deeper than anyone had bothered to in your entire life. He’d seen your cries for help and tended to you. He’d seen your inexperience and taught you. He’d seen your weakness and accepted you. He was committed to you, your safety, your livelihood. It made your head spin the longer you laid curled up to him, thinking on it. Thinking on how much your life had changed in a matter of days - whether for the worse of the better, you weren’t entirely sure yet. 

“Thank you,” you finally mumble, a timid, small voice squeaking out, arm squeezing Joel a little tighter. 

He seems amused, chest puffed with a tiny chuckle. “What for, huh? It’s jus’ the truth, sweet girl.”

“You… you see me, I think. Don’t you?”

Joel cups your cheek, his heart nearly bursting out of his chest with self-satisfaction. Your words felt like magic as they landed on his starved ears. He licks his lips, his brain latching onto the idea of him seeing you, really seeing what you need. It was clear you were starved for attention, for knowledge, for anything in life before you’d arrived on his doorstep. You’d needed this, needed the way a man like him could see you as you were and guide you. Joel’s suspicions about your group had long been growing with your naivety and lack of experience in every facet of life being shown to him more by the day. He hadn’t wanted to say the word to you yet, keep things sensitive for now, but he knew what they were, what they’d done to you. They’d kept a sweet, perfect thing so pulled away from the real world, so tucked away and hidden, almost taking away this chance to have you under his care. He feels no remorse as he silently thanks the group that raided your community - they’d sent you running right into his arms. Whatever it took to get you here with him, to keep you here with him was alright in Joel’s book, no matter the casualties along the way.

“I see everythin’ you need, everythin’ my little blossom could ever need. I know you, sweetheart, know what you need. You need someone to put you front and center, make you everythin’. That’s all you’ve ever wanted, ain’t it?” Joel asks confidently, and you watch as his lip twitches in the hint of a smile, the kind he wore when he’d read right through you.  

You feel your chest get tight at his honesty and the way he seems to have uncovered your truth so easily, one of the deepest hidden parts of you. It makes you emotional, the endless well of tears you seem to have pouring out a few more. “Yes…” you admit in a whisper. “Nobody ever…” 

You turn your face, burying it into Joel’s chest, warm with embarrassment and not willing to show him your shameful face. Wanting attention in the way you had been fantasizing about for years was wrong, you’d learned. All of it drilled into your head, and you’d believed every bit of it, to some degree. It was half the reason you’d never even tried to think about anything of this nature. But it lingered deep inside of you - the hunger to be wanted, to belong, for this attention and reverence placed on you. The proper thing was to wait for it, wait for your appointed marriage to only possibly receive any of the attention you’d been seeking. But it was never going to be enough, no. Too much else in the world to share that attention with, too many other factors at play, distractions. It was never going to satisfy you. 

You’d needed… this.

“Until…” you add on in a hushed purr, lips whispering as if it was a prayer, right against the curls of hair on Joel’s chest. You can’t commit to the sentence, commit to locking yourself in even further, a ridiculous thought considering the events of this evening. You’d all but sold yourself over to the devil tonight, became his tamed pet, his property, yet you couldn’t spare him the satisfaction of simply saying it. 

“Until…” Joel repeats, his eyes alight with that vulturine stare as he watches your naked body curl further into him, your eyes cast downward like the good little girl you are. A kiss placed on the side of your head, putting his lips right near your ear, where his next words send a shudder through your fraught, vulnerable frame. “Until… me.”

smother - part vii: convert

dark!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: you're entangled deeper into joel's web with a test to your submission, and he brings you a revelation that shocks your entire known world. 13.1k words (literally what the fuck) chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI! dubcon - stockholm syndrome, general coercion, innocent reader, big juicy age gap (reader is 19, joel is 55), ddlg/daddy dom! joel, sub!reader, reader wears a collar, unprotected piv, corruption kink, pet names for reader, dirty talk, lap sitting and straddling, discussion/descriptions of religious beliefs and cults, yeaaah i learned i'm working through some religious trauma with this one, reader has hair that can be grabbed onto, reader gets her period, reader cries A LOT and i'm not sorry about it, if these darker tags aren't your cup of tea please keep scrolling! a/n: i had such a solid, general idea for this chapter and then she took me in so many directions against my own will but it was a fun ride. so i guess i just hope to hell this is coherent?? and not just a slog. also sorry for dumping my religious trauma on you all but it had to be done 😇

reminder i have no taglist anymore, follow @beardedjoel-updates to hear about my new fics!

If any of these rules are broken, daddy will punish me:

Daddy owns me. What daddy says goes. Always. 

Always use the titles ‘daddy’, ‘sir’, or ‘master’.

Daddy knows best. Do NOT question him.

‘Yes.’ ‘Please.’ ‘Thank you.’ ‘Sorry.’ Use my manners.

Never remove my collar. Only daddy can do that.

Always be honest with daddy.

You’ve been scribbling furiously for the last thirty minutes, curled on the floor in front of the couch as you use the ground as your table, writing whenever and whatever Joel dictates. That was one of the first rules he’d iterated to you - sit at daddy’s feet when commanded. 

Joel sits on the couch right next to where you’re situated, periodically sipping on a mug of steaming coffee. A delicacy, one of his guilty pleasures that he practically sells his soul for over in Jackson just to get a bag of it, he tells you. He’s dressed casually, having thrown on a pair of gray sweatpants and he’d forgone a shirt when you two rolled out of bed this morning. The outfit only does favors for him, you notice - the hair trailing down the planes of his chest to the waistband of his sweatpants leaving little to the imagination in terms of what’s underneath them. That glorious thing that had made you feel so much… pleasure. You try to hide your shiver at the memories of last night, but circle back to it over and over in your mind. You can still feel it, feel him as you shift your weight and a soreness hits you yet again between your legs. 

You practically have to tear your gaze off of him, trying to focus back on the lesson as heat floods your cheeks from how easily you were distracted. It’s not supposed to be like this, you think angrily, you shouldn’t be having these feelings. You’re… captive, a prize to him, nothing more, you remind yourself, despite recalling the way he’d looked at you this morning when you two woke up - his eyes a little softer and starry after your special night together. 

Your knees burn again as the bare skin scrapes against the wooden floorboards when you bend down to write the next thing Joel had spoken out,  gently stroking your head as he did so.

Wear only what daddy approves for me. 

This one feels apt to be next as you try to avoid wincing at the discomfort growing in your knees. Joel had tested you this morning, seeing what you’d grab from the drawer, what you’d put together to please him. When you’d pulled out jeans, he shook his head as you hesitantly held them up towards him.

“No. No pants when you’re home with daddy. Jus’ the sweater an’ your little panties,” Joel had snipped with irritated and hurried footsteps to the dresser drawer where he pulled out a knit top. “Arms up,” he commanded, sliding the oversized sweater over your head, not bothering with any type of bra. He rationalized it was just more for him to have to get through later, anyways. “Grab some tall socks. Can’t have those feet gettin’ cold, little one,” he’d added on cooly, tossing his hand in the air as if he couldn’t care less which socks you chose. But still, his eyes had lingered, hawk-like while your fingers hovered over the drawer until you decided on a pair of slightly dingy pink cable knit ones that came up onto your shins.

You feel the soft, warm material of the sweater hugging your skin now as you hunch over to start writing the next rule.

Do not come without permission.

You lift your head, glancing at Joel with your eyes wide and curious, pencil hovering above the page, leaving the sentence half written.

“Y’heard me,” he says airily. “Don’t want teacher getting mad, do you? Thinkin’ y’don’t wanna write that one down, hm?”

“N-no, sir. Sorry, sir.” Your head shakes quickly, a rush of fear pulsing through you. You hunch your back over once again, pencil meeting paper as you write out each word carefully for him to see. 

“Mm,” Joel murmurs, leaning forward to look as you hunch over. He keeps a hand resting on top of your head, petting you soothingly. It makes you ache inside, your body responding so pliantly when he touches you like this. “That’s a good girl, then.”

“I just -” you start, eyes glancing back up at him. Joel’s eyes are now narrowed in warning as his brow pinches together. 

“You just what?” he punches out gruffly. “Hm, princess? What did we say to do if you have a question for teacher today?”

Your eyes cast back down. “R-raise my hand, sir,” you say carefully, slowly raising your hand from where it rests on the floor, letting it hover above your head.

“There we go…” Joel coos. “Yes, blossom?”

You sit back on your legs and fold your hands in your lap, looking downwards - the exact position he’d requested if you had any questions for him.

“With t-the coming… rule…” you start, feeling a burn in your cheeks as you practically whisper the dirty word. You wish you could be so bold and open like Joel, talk about these kinds of things like they’re nothing. “I- I’ve done that before and you didn’t get… upset.”

Joel leans back, spreading his arms along the back of the couch, your eyes catching quickly on the way his biceps flex as you glance up. “See, that’s where you’re wrong, sweets. First time, eh, maybe, but I’ve always been in control, darlin’. No time you came since then I didn’t say so.” He lounges back further, arms crossing over his chest now, looking beyond satisfied as he sees you start to wrack your brain.

Hazy memories of Joel, urging you on in those intimate moments start to come to mind. ‘Let go’, he’d say, ‘Go on and feel good’ - all permissions you suppose that you had missed in the heat of the moment. It always just happened when he told you to, like he knew how close you were to that edge already and wanted to own that, too. 

“I guess that’s true…” you admit, twisting your lips to the side as you bite the skin inside. “So… that means… I should wait for you to say, like before…?”

“Or ask,” Joel interrupts. “Nice and polite for daddy, f’course.”

You nod slowly, taking the information in like a sponge, glancing at your hands fiddling in your lap. Anxiety looms overhead, a question you’re afraid to ask but terrified more of what could happen if the rule is broken. “What if -”

“You won’t,” Joel interrupts again, his voice stern, certain. “You’ll learn. You can control it, and be a good girl and wait for daddy’s permission. Thas’ why it’s on the paper, sweetheart.”

You swallow hard, just giving him a dutiful nod for a few quiet beats. “Yes, sir,” you finally reply submissively, voice tiny and mousy under his command.

“Enough questions. Let’s take a break, hm?” Joel cocks his head, giving you a half smile. You nod and gather up your paper and pencil into your lap, wondering if the rule to being on your knees for Joel also applied to standing up off of them.

“Up, darlin’,” he commands, seeing your tense, watchful expression. “Daddy’s missin’ you, wants to feel his favorite girl in his lap for a bit.”

You press your lips together, trying to hide a coy smile but let it slip through, anyhow, glancing at Joel as you stand up and smooth your sweater. You gingerly set your list on the side table and Joel pats his lap eagerly when you turn back to face him. His eyes only devour devour devour as they drag over your entire body. The pretty pink socks you’d chosen next to all that negative space under the hem of the long sweater were such a god damned tease on those legs of yours. Such an innocent display, yet knowing more than well just what it would do to him. 

You surprise yourself by how assured you feel in your movements as you climb onto the couch, seating yourself on Joel’s lap, legs stretched off to the side over his thighs with your ass planted right next to his. Joel’s arms wrap you up, pulling your top half into him. You rest your head down onto his shoulder, savoring the quiet of the moment. You can hear Joel’s calm breathing, the chirping of birds outside and the way snow drips off of the rooftop as it melts - spring is well on its way now. Fresh starts, new beginnings, it all starts to swell in your heart as you think of moving away from this bleak winter and into new beginnings. 

With Joel. 

Joel breathes you in, a nose to your hair. “Blossom, I’ve got some bad news f’you,” Joel states, protective hands roaming your body wherever he pleases. One lands firmly on your ass as it protrudes outward, patting it softly a few times, almost absentminded in his movements. 

“Oh…” you reply, feeling your face fall, awaiting further explanation. 

“I’ve got to head to Jackson soon. Long overdue for a restock, now that the weather broke some. An’ they’ll be waitin’ on me over there.” He locks concerned eyes with you, carefully gauging your reaction.

“Oh…” you say another time, frowning. “A-and… alone?” you squeak out, already knowing the answer.

Joel nods sorrowfully, bringing a preemptively soothing hand to cup your cheek. “It ain’t safe out there for my sugar. You jus’ got out of the mess out there, right? Need to keep you safe right here.” Joel knows that you’re lonely, oh so lonely, and this timing couldn’t be worse, but it’s a good test - he’ll get to see your resolve, your dedication to him. 

“B-but…” you start, the words drifting away into the empty space around you. Joel’s eyes glance past you to the paper you’d been working on all morning, sitting on the side table, the words you know he’s simmering about right now ringing through your head.

Do NOT question him.

So you don’t. “Okay, daddy,” you say with resignation, sighing and letting your head fall back past his shoulder and onto the back of the couch with a sigh. 

Joel rubs your back in soothing circles. “I know, I know. Jus’ a few days, though. I got plans to keep you safe. An’ I’ll be bringin’ back plenty of good stuff for us, sweetheart.”

You nod, knowing the sad look is permeating your energy, a frown stuck on your lips. You’re not even sure what it is about Joel leaving that makes you feel this way - you’re certainly not opposed to having some space after having your world flipped upside down by Joel this past week, but you’ll miss the way he makes you feel safe, seems to anticipate your needs before you even think about it. You already find yourself feeling somewhat lost at the thought of being without him, and it scares the hell out of you.

Joel pinches one of your cheeks as you stare up at the ceiling from where your head rests back, contemplating. “You gonna miss me, hm? Miss your ol’ daddy while he’s gone?” Joel pinches your cheek several more times, clearly trying to get you to smile. You lift your head and look over at him, finally cracking a soft grin.

“I will, daddy. Of course,” you reply sweetly. 

Joel looks more satisfied, his eyes drifting down your body and falling at your knees before he frowns a little. “Aw, baby,” he tuts, reaching a hand to stroke along your scuffed, dry kneecaps. “So good for daddy, aren’t you? Didn’t complain once about this.”

You shake your head, going a little sullen. You hadn’t dared complain, not when kneeling was one of the rules. “N-no, sir.”

“They hurtin’? Need a little kiss from daddy?” Joel strokes the side of your head gently, gazing at you with his eyes softened as much as it seems Joel is capable of. There’s still a hardness there, something dark that always looms, swirls deep in the dark brown of his eyes and continues to draw you into him.  

You find his tone makes you start to pout naturally, letting your lips push out and into a frown. You nod, just a dip down of your head. “Yes, please…” you mutter, almost embarrassed that you do want that from him. The offer of this little gesture of care makes your heart squeeze tight while you watch him lean down, lips connecting to your knee. Joel just barely flutters his lips on your right knee before doing the same to your left. He gives you a wily grin when he pulls back, cupping your cheek.

“Gonna kiss y’somewhere else now, too,” he teases, his voice lower. His lips find yours and he kisses you deeply, rubbing his hands along your hurting knees. You wince a little but let him continue the touch, trying to ignore how sensitive they feel right now. Joel’s mouth invites you in, opening for a deeper kiss, his tongue starting a dance with yours. You gladly accept, your body quickly melding into one with his, nerves starting to light up with desire. 

“Daddy wants to show ya how much he’ll miss you when he’s gone,” Joel says, a little breathless against your lips before kissing you again. You start to feel the now familiar warmth spreading across your skin and lean into him, letting more of your weight press against his chest. Joel’s hands find your legs, gripping one of your calves to drag it across his lap, turning your body so that you’re straddling him. All the while he never stops the eager way his lips continue to meet yours, like he couldn’t possibly get enough of it. You’re enjoying the slowness of it all, despite need throbbing at your center already, wishing he’d help you in the way only Joel knows how, that almost shameful part of you that you’re still coming to grips with.

You whimper quietly into his mouth when Joel moves your hips for you, forcing you to rock forward on his lap. His arousal bulges through the material of the sweatpants, immediately meeting your damp center as he brushes the head of his clothed cock against your panties. Your little moans grow louder when Joel repeats the motion several times, the friction becoming heavenly as you lose yourself to it. 

“Mmm, good girl, you like that, don’t ya?” Joel asks in a low, coarse rumble, his hands sliding tighter around your back to pull you close. You feel yourself press against his bare chest, his skin hot, felt even through the fabric of your shirt. You find yourself shy to answer, just a minute nod as you bury your head against his shoulder with a muffled mhm.

“Say ‘yes, daddy,’” Joel snips, his hand splaying across the back of your head before his fingers curl in, fisting your hair. His other hand stays on the small of your back, urging your hips to continue grinding on him. You shudder as your clit brushes harder against him.

“Y-yes, daddy,” you force out, your face warming against his bare skin. Your head is yanked back suddenly before Joel’s hand slides forward, one of his thick fingers hooking into the o-ring on your collar to hold you steady. 

“Now say ‘please fuck me, daddy’,” Joel continues, his brows knit closely as he watches you, a gentle, steady pull of your collar felt against your neck. 

“I’m not supposed to say stuff like t-that…” You shake your head a little, recalling the way you’d been brutally scolded around age thirteen after learning a few new curse words from a girl that Josephine had dubbed an awful, terrible influence on you. You hadn’t been allowed to see her after that. Despite your community's rules against cursing or using the Lord’s name in vain, you still heard each and every curse word under the sun over the years you lived there from people in a weak moment, a brief slip up, quietly filing each one into your brain purely out of curiosity. 

“Heard one slip before princess,” Joel huffs, eyes starting to heat up as they bore into you. “An’ whose rules are those, hm? Are those daddy’s rules?” Joel shoots his free hand up to your chin, a tight grip that makes you wince. “Is that on that paper over there?” he spits out with a little more venom. You tremble a little, trying to shake your head as much as you can in his grasp. 

“No s-sir. That’s not your rules…” you whimper. 

“Thas’ right. So what do you say?”

“Please f-fuck… me, daddy…” You speak quietly, that curse word heavy on your tongue after having been mostly said only inside the confines of your own head before. Just because you’d been banned from saying them, you’d liked having the little secret in your head where you said them anyways, trying to see if anyone would know, be able to tell your guilty pleasure. 

“Think you could do better than that. Daddy ain’t sure he believes you, now.” Joel smirks, amused. He can tell you liked saying fuck despite the way your sullen eyes casted down when you’d spoken, still getting used to the feel of curse words on your tongue. Joel is still slowly helping your hips grind against him, light and slow, just enough to work you up and have you starting to soak through your cotton panties. 

You bite your lip nervously, and then meet his heavy lidded gaze, trying to appear more confident even though your heart is ready to thump right out of your chest, eyes burning with the sting of tears. Joel catches your clit on the clothed head of his dick and you whine quietly, starting to feel desperation clawing at you for some kind of relief from your aching sex. 

“Please fuck me, daddy,” you say, and Joel’s hips involuntarily buck up into yours, sending you gasping and him groaning. His eyebrows shoot up in the moment, surprised at just how much you’d committed that time. You have to fight the urge to clamp your hand over your mouth in shock, in penance, willing the words to disappear from the air, that God himself might come down and punish you. You can’t decide whose punishment would be worse, in the end. 

Joel’s face is lit up, activated, while he reaches between your bodies, his movements a little frenzied as he finds the waistband of his sweatpants and tugs it down just enough to pull his cock out. It springs free almost violently in his haste, and he grunts as his breathing picks up. 

“Eager little girl for daddy today, aren’t ya? One taste of my cock and you can’t get enough, yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” you choke out obediently, feeling his cock pressing hastily against your panties, just the thin bit of fabric separating you two now. You think you’d say yes to anything right now, barely able to focus on anything but that large appendage trying to press through your underwear. 

You can scarcely breathe properly at the anticipation you’re feeling, a nervous fluttering low in your belly at the idea of being stretched the way you were last night. Joel had promised you’d get more used to it, that this would become even more fun for you, and you try to place your faith in his words as fear creeps in. 

“Now don’t you dare ever say those words to anyone else. Be a good, proper girl, and don’t curse unless I say so,” Joel demands softly, his hand scratching along the back of your head, fingers massaging into your scalp. 

“Yes, daddy,” you murmur quietly before he brings his lips to yours, hands moving quickly to adjust your hips upwards to position himself, fingers tugging your panties to the side. He keeps his eyes locked on yours before scanning your face, watching your mouth pop open in a stunned, shaky inhale when he starts to slide himself in, the bulbous head burning at your entrance just like it did last night. You’re almost holding your breath, sparks exploding across your skin as your cunt starts to eagerly take him in despite the pain, desperate for him. Like it doesn’t know how to live without Joel now.

“Shh…” he coos, watching in amazement as your brows twitch together, mouth still hanging slightly agape while he brings you down further, your entire body tensing up. “She still sore, sugar?”

You nod, tears pricking at your eyes now but you breathe in and out slowly, starting to relish in everything you’re feeling. Something so wrong feeling so right, and for the first time, you start to just let yourself enjoy it with no strings attached.

“It hurts…” You try to remember the breathing from last night, the way you’d finally been able to relax your body enough for it to start feeling good. Bring me back to that, you plead with your aching body. 

Joel presses his forehead to yours. already sticky with sweat and shushes you quietly again. “I know… gonna take some time to get used to daddy’s fat cock, baby,” Joel sympathizes, his lips finding your nose and giving it a few tender kisses as he continues to pull your hips down. You feel on the verge of something like passing out, the most overwhelmingly full sensation filling your belly, your eyes wanting to roll back as you cling to Joel. Your forehead presses harder into his and your breathing shakes as your fingers move to his hair, gripping onto the curls at the base of his neck. 

“I c-can’t d-do more…”

“No, no, none of that… almost there…” Joel coos sweetly as he forces your hips the tiniest bit more, and you whine, gritting your teeth. “She’s so full, huh? Mmm…” Joel starts to lose himself again, just like last night, and you try to tug a little on his hair to keep him present in hopes he wouldn’t hurt you as much as he did before. 

“Okay, okay… f-fuck, sweetheart. Fits like a damn glove though, so perfect.” Joel tilts his head to kiss your lips, and you eagerly meet them despite your labored breathing, hoping to calm your nerves. 

He starts to slowly drag out, the friction heavenly and sending you groaning quietly into Joel’s mouth. He pushes back in, starting a tiny rhythm with it and you nearly choke, pain bursting through your core as you adjust. 

“Goooood girl…” he rumbles, a long, contented sigh pushing out of his nostrils. “So good… Made for me… made for this cock, honey. Look at ya…” Joel praises you with a few more kisses, keeping the steady pace in and out of you. You’re starting to pant, that desperate heat taking over and pulling your body down onto Joel’s lap with each thrust of his. You throw your arms around his neck, clinging on as your head tucks into his shoulder, whimpering. It’s still on the verge of too much, Joel’s size now reaching an entirely new depth inside of you - a feeling you can’t quite describe and never could have imagined.

“No, no, sugar, look at me when you’re full’a me… eyes right here,” Joel says, tugging your head back by the collar, keeping it held there with his fingers curled around the leather strap. Your worried, dazed eyes find his, comforted by the dark brown irises that look at you with such admiration and zeal right now. 

“Y’can do it, help daddy ride this cock,” Joel purrs, both hands on either side of your hips now, keeping a slow, steady rhythm. You feel fat tears squeezing out of the corners of your eyes, your body starting to melt for him but the pain never truly subsiding. “That’s it, blossom, oh you’re a good girl for daddy today ain’t you?” Joel smirks, satisfied as a little moan slips out of you, cunt starting to weep around his cock, only easing his way in and out of you.

“Y-yes, daddy,” you whimper on the tail end of a breathy moan. Joel’s eyes are narrow, transfixed on your features, loving the way you react to each movement with a renewed sense of wonder and eagerness. That tiny hint of fear he sees mixed in with everything else is what urges him on, is what he’s decided he lives for.  

The slow pace, his cock brushing against every part of you with each movement has you struggling to keep your eyes open for him, the pleasure sending them fluttering shut as you clutch onto the couch cushion on either side of Joel’s head. Your body seems to be thinking for you again, your inexperienced mind barely even able to comprehend the way it moves, angles itself as you perch above Joel’s lap and grind your way down. Your mouth hangs open, stunned as you find your clit stimulated just enough by the friction between your two bodies to start filling your lower belly with that tingling warmth. 

“D-daddy?” you ask desperately, the feeling ramping up quicker than you’d intended, a sudden fear gripping your heart in a chokehold that you’ll let go before it’s okay, that you’ll break your new set of rules so quickly. Please, please, you quickly beg yourself, hold on for him. 

“Hang on t’ the feelin’, sweetheart, I know you can,” Joel coaches you, one hand still on your collar and the other brushing along the side of your head to comfort you. “C’mon…” he urges, a little more excited as he grins devilishly at you. You bite the inside of your cheek, choking back the moans, trying to slow your movements on top of him and shake your head. 

“Please…” you whisper quietly, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to focus on anything else. You try old prayers, the feel of the cold ground when you’d been out on your own, your least favorite foods, but come up short. Nothing can compare, can overtake the fiery feeling burning its way through you. 

“One more…” Joel smirks, gently slapping a hand to your asscheek as you hesitantly chase your high, your face the most beautiful mixture of worry and pleasure he’s ever seen. He loves to hear you beg, pretty pleases falling from your lips for him and nobody else - never again for anybody else.

“P-please,” you beg with a little more gusto, leaving Joel smiling at you as his cock hardens more inside of you, aching for release when he hears you beg for him. 

“Come, baby. Come for daddy,” he says, his voice now losing it’s cool facade and sounding more urgent, excitement sweeping his features as he watches you start to moan louder and shudder. 

It’s too much, Joel doesn’t have the control he wishes for yet - it’s all too new, too many years wasting in longing for a moment just like this, for his perfect little pet to come along. You. You are going to be everything and more, and he has no resolve, no control over himself when it comes to you and your inexperienced little cunt that you have no idea how to use yet. He’ll be completely wrecked when that day comes, he thinks cheekily to himself as you continue whimpering, face slick with a sheen of sweat while you bear down on him and shake, moaning quieter than he’d like to hear. But he lets it slide for now, knowing that someday he’ll have you shaking the walls of this damn cabin with your cries and moans and pitiful screams of his name. 

Joel fucks his hips up into you a few more times as he runs away with his thoughts before quickly slipping out, just in time for his cum to splatter upwards onto his belly and chest as he breathes heavily with a loud grunt. 

“Shit, babygirl…” he moans quietly as his head flops towards the back of the couch, and you stare down between your bodies with your lips parted, trying to catch your breath. You can’t help but notice the mess he’s made on you too - your sweater marked with the evidence of what you two have done in white splotches. Weirdly, it makes you smile, a coy little turn of your lips that makes you feel proud to have affected him so much that he’s still taking his time to recoup. You slide off of Joel’s lap and snuggle up to him, Joel quickly and greedily accepting the way you press into him, his arms snaking around you while you curl into him and put your own arms around his shoulders. 

“When?” you ask quietly, your cheek tight against his bare, slightly damp chest. 

Joel’s fingers start to run patterns along your back, so gentle for a man oh so rough, and your eyes flutter closed. “Today.”

You frown and then nod against him so he can feel it, know you’ve acknowledged his answer in some way. But you suddenly feel like pouting, like this is completely unfair of him to spring on you so suddenly, just when you were starting to adjust to things with him.

“C’mon then, let’s get up, yeah? Daddy’s gotta get goin’.”

Hmph. You make the tiny noise and snake your arms tighter around his neck, squishing your face down so that your cheek is crushed, clinging to him. 

Joel chuckles goodnaturedly, starting to rub your back a little harder. “Only three days, sweetheart. You’ll be safe here.”

You squeeze tighter, and Joel’s hand quickly slides to the back of your neck, fingers under the collar in warning, the other hand tightening against your back.

Joel makes a quiet noise, a tiny grunt of disapproval as he shifts underneath you, trying to move you off of him. “Knock it off. Don’t make this harder than it has to be f’me. You think I like leavin’ you?”

“Idunno,” you mumble, mouth crushed against his skin. You know Joel doesn’t like this any more than you do, that he’s likely terrified to leave you alone, break this strange attachment you’re starting to have to him in the few days he’ll be away. But you can’t help but feel hurt, irritation surging through you in an unfair burst towards Joel.

“Think you’ll want to try that again, princess,” he says sternly, his muscles taut underneath you. A warning, a last chance before you may face your first real, deliberate punishment from him.

You sigh dejectedly, loosening your grip on him some, and he wriggles a little at the freedom, situating himself below you as his gaze narrows a little. “Of course not, daddy, no,” you say quietly, sighing again.

“That’s right. So let’s get me goin’ so it’ll be sooner I’ll come back, yeah?” Joel watches you tenderly, hating the fact that he has to leave you, too. But he can’t show it, can’t let you rope him into staying somehow - this is for the both of you, for him to provide for this precious thing he’s lucky enough to have under his wing. 

You nod with a few small bounces of your head, glassy eyes looking into his. “Y-yes… sir…”

You stand, fingertips gingerly placed on the glass of the window as you reach across the sink, leaned forward to get a better look. Your eyes scan the empty forest surrounding you, bright sun shining down as grass starts to peek through the now thinning layer of snow. 

Come see me off Joel had said, uncharacteristically sweet, as he placed you by the window you now stand in front of, telling you to wait until he’d passed to walk away. You frown, recalling how you’d followed him sulkily around the cabin, watching as he got dressed and gathered his things with a pout etched on your lips that Joel purposefully ignored. You’d broken away at his lack of attention and traipsed to that closet near the entryway, grabbing the chain and hauling it out, looking at Joel with sad, expectant eyes.

He’d only shook his head, a calloused hand meeting yours where it gripped the cold metal and using his thumb to stroke along the back of your hand, sweet like he was doing you a favor. 

Not this time he’d whispered, face merely inches from yours. You won’t leave. You’d nearly cried, holding it back with lips pressed tight, knowing he was right. Knowing you wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

Leaving - the option felt far away now, hard to grasp, like your mind couldn’t quite imagine going back to the horrors that the outside world offered. You had a world here - a warm world where you were fed and no harm could befall you if Joel could help it. Your vicious protector. They’d been wrong about Paradise before, you thought to yourself, because this felt like the closest thing you could get in this diseased, hopeless world.

While he didn’t chain you up, Joel had been keen to let you know that the front door was going to be specially locked from the outside before showing you the shiny key and slipping it into his pocket. Windows were off limits, too, unless you decided to open them just a crack. It wasn’t worth it to risk breaking through a window to sneak off, anyways, you thought with a hopeless pang to your heart.

Try anythin’, you know I’ll find you… he’d warned, cold and calculated as his lips pressed against yours a final time before slinging his backpack over his back.

Joel comes into view a few moments later, riding on Willow, his saddle packed with pouches and rucksack softly bouncing along his back. A small cart rolls behind Willow, a risky move to travel back from Jackson with so much supply, such an easy target, but you can’t imagine anyone that would dare go up against Joel. You frown even deeper, seeing the finality of it all now laid out in front of you. Three days of silence. Three days of a cold bed. Three days of no Joel.

You should have felt free, any form of relief to see him go, to gain back a piece of your life for even a few days, but all you could muster up was your heart clenching, an all encompassing anxiety you didn’t know how to shake. 

It was like watching paint dry, waiting for Joel to come home. And you may as well have been, the way you’d stared on aimlessly, considering your situation while he was gone. It was lonely but had its freedoms at the same time - you’d tried to think about it practically when you ached to have him near again. Reminding yourself there was nobody here to worry over your every move, yet you found yourself missing the discipline. It was an area you were comfortable living in, the harshness of it all, the constant discipline, eyes watching your every decision. Your entire life had really been about that one word, and now you had a whole quiet home to yourself, unable to really enjoy it. 

You filled your time admiring the world out the windows, practically measuring just how much snow was left with your eyes, watching it melt down to the soggy, off color grass underneath. You tried to prepare yourself meals, creating new dishes and warming up the things Joel had left for you, but you found little interest in eating any of it, thinking of the way you’d shared this table with him in more ways than one. Eating meals, his hands all over you, that first, hesitant kiss, the way he’d made you fear him and revere him right in this very spot, you recall as you stare down at the grain of the wood with unseeing eyes. But you’d promised Joel that you’d take care of yourself, fill your belly with his spoils while he was gone, keeping you strong and healthy for him. He wanted his girl strong and healthy, he’d insisted as he showed you around the kitchen, making sure you were briefed on everything he had for you to eat while he was gone.

Each time you empty your plate, you wish you could show Joel, have him look proudly at you, pet your head and whisper how good you are for him in that gravelly accent of his. You shudder at the thought, that feeling in between your legs aching for him more and more with each hour that passes. Joel hardly had to warn you what would happen if you dared to touch yourself while he was gone - the memory of that night with the knife had seared into your mind enough to solidify the fact that you don’t think you’d even dare, despite his watchful eyes being miles away. It’s not like you’d know how to make yourself feel the way Joel does, anyway.

You garner enough courage to snoop around the cabin when you feel bored, but don’t disturb anything of importance, too afraid, keeping your fingers nimble and quiet, as if Joel could sense your movements even from afar. Wherever he is right now, you wonder throughout the day with wistful sighs. You don’t find much - mostly junk that was left in the home, none of it really seeming like Joel’s. The most interesting thing was an old grocery list, worn with age but otherwise well intact - you’d bet that Joel had found this place mostly untouched despite the years passing with how remote it seems. You held the list in your hands, a tiny connection to the old world, everything checked off except for radishes, and you wonder to yourself what it must have been like, carrying this little list through a crowded shop, unable to find your radishes but it didn’t matter, none of it mattered when life was a breeze, when you didn’t have to worry about the fact that the entire world had burned to the ground. 

You later discover a few more chains in that front closet, different lengths and cuffs and even one that looks like it could clip onto your collar - you touch the o-ring on the front of your adornment while your stomach does flips, an eerie feeling washing over you as you wonder how and when Joel would even use that. It sinks low, that pesky feeling between your thighs ramping up again and you slam the closet shut in frustration. You want to scream, but find you just can’t, your throat not up to the task, still too afraid that this is all some sick test, that Joel is perched right outside in the woods right now, watching and listening.

Instead, you stomp away, breathing heavily out of your nostrils, until you spot a door you’d hardly noticed on the first floor until now, always sealed shut. It’s down the hallway next to the staircase, hidden away a bit in the shadows past the powder room.

You approach with caution, swallowing a fearful lump in your throat as you dance forward on tiptoes, starting to tremble. This feels wrong - Joel had never taken to showing you this space, maybe for a reason. Who knows what horrors lay beyond the wooden door, what you could discover that you’ll never be able to turn back from. Your mind spins, going to the most wild of places when your fingers curl around the old crystal and brass doorknob and turn.

Your jaw drops at the normalcy of it all after building it up in your mind. Warm late evening light streams in through the singular window, a simple square room with a desk along the wall right underneath the window. You frown, moving forward a bit and taking in the smell - distinctly wood, fresh as you breathe it in and savor it. The room looks like it's otherwise used for some storage - nothing interesting seeming enough to go through it, but the desk. That’s Joel’s space - a large wooden slab covered with smaller pieces of wood to work with, shavings still spread across the desk along with some small tools. Everything is arranged neatly, however, much like the rest of the cabin, but you can feel that this place is cared for above the rest, a place for him to get away, lose himself for a while.

“W-woodworking…?” you murmur in a whisper, almost a question to yourself. You gape a little as you get closer, seeing what looks like the beginnings of a new project - something resembling a human shape in the works. You wonder when he's been working on this, or if he has at all since you’d arrived here, perplexed as to when he would have found the time. You feel your heart hammering, like you’re seeing something you aren’t supposed to. Something… soft, kind about Joel, a part of himself that he was keeping secret from you. He has hobbies, something he gives his time to that isn’t malicious or bad or monstrous. No, you decided too long ago now that Joel is not a monster, but just a man in need of something. 

Something you’ve seemingly been able to fill. 

You feel your face fall further, realizing the humanity of Joel laid out in front of you in such a small thing. Shavings of wood on a desk. It could be so much easier if you just hated him for it all - if you fought and clawed with each interaction instead of giving in. If you hadn’t had his spend staining your sweater that you’d refused to change when he left, savoring the lingering smell of him on it. If you didn’t feel your heart reaching out to him in his absence right now, wanting to ask daddy, what are you working on in here? as you stand in the doorway of this very room, a vision clear as day to you as Joel invites you by his side while he works. Whittling away on his project and looking at you contentedly, petting you softly, your body chained to the floor by your collar. And you loving it. 

You gasp, sucking in a hefty breath, choking back on the sob that wracks you as you pull yourself from the daydream that may as well be a prediction of your future. You hunch over, clutching your stomach, knees unable to fully hold you up as you start to cry. You sink to the middle of the floor, a woven rug cushioning your frame as you curl up, staining this house with another batch of your pathetic tears. And you can’t decide if you hate yourself more for it than you do Joel. 

On the third day, you wake up slow, rolling over in bed and remembering that the other side of it has been empty for days now. You feel completely exhausted, dried up after the way you’d cried last night before stripping your clothing and crawling into bed. Naked, just in case Joel came home in the night. Just the way he’d asked you to sleep every night since arriving here, and every one going forward. 

You stretch your arms above your head as you groan, finding despite it all, you feel a little lighter knowing that Joel is supposed to be back today - three days, he’d said like a promise, and you got the feeling he was the type of man intent on keeping it. 

Once you blink a few more times, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you feel it. Something… off, your inner thighs feeling a bit wet and sticky underneath the covers. Your stomach twists a little in pain and that’s when you know. 

“O-oh… no… s-shoot…” you mumble to yourself, practically jumping out of bed and grasping at the side of it, throwing the comforter down towards the foot of the bed. You peer down at the sheets, red permeating the green checked pattern of the flannel and shake your head. 

“No…” you whimper, glancing down to see red between your thighs, just starting to smear them the tiniest bit. You bite your lip, panicking for a moment, wondering what Joel will think of all of this - the mess you’ve made on his bed, his sheets stained to hell. You rush to the dresser, tearing open the drawers in search of anything you can use, settling on a plain white tank top of Joel’s to stuff between your thighs as you wriggle a pair of underwear and comfortable pants over top of it, your fingers shaking along the way. A haphazard grab of a tee shirt sends you rushing back to the bed as you pull it over your head and start to strip the sheets, trying to breathe through the oncoming wave of pain and nausea you’re feeling in your abdomen. 

You toss the sheets in the bath, stumbling along the way in your dazed panic and cramping midsection, terrified of Joel coming home to a mess. Leave you for three days an’ this is what you do? Trash my place, hm? You hear versions of Joel’s scolding run through your head at lightning speed, imagining all the ways he could punish you, could hurt you with just his words alone, taking away your status as a good girl for him being the one that starts the tears falling. Your throat tightens and you scrub and scrub, the red stain fading but in no way disappearing. You’re frenzied, scrubbing as you cry loudly to your harsh, imaginary reprimands from Joel, so distracted you don’t hear the sound of bootfall, the worried call of ‘Blossom? Sugar…?’ over the roaring rush of the water coming out of the tap. 

Joel stops short in the doorway to the bathroom, even his shadow looming not enough to pull you out of your crazed trance, desperate to fix everything, to avoid what you’re certain is coming. “What in the hell?” Joel spits out loudly, “Is goin’ on in here?”

You gasp, hands dropping the soaking wet sheets, a loud plop into the bathtub ringing through the now otherwise silent, tense room. You scramble to stand up, hands dripping water as you try to wipe them off on your clothing. Joel’s eyes flash down to the water, slightly discolored before noticing the large red spot on the sheets, then your panicked face, a complete mess as you stand disheveled in front of him. You’re frozen in fear, unable to explain, barely even able to process that Joel is back home, that he’s in the room with you right now. 

You head bows down, fat tears dripping off your cheeks and splattering onto the tile. “P-please, d-daddy,” you whimper, choking back a sob. “D-don’t punish me please please please! I’m sorry, it was an accident,” you pant out, already on the verge of losing it. You feel like you’re about to break down, knees wobbly, threatening to give out on you any moment. You don’t understand it, the way your emotions are pulling so heavily on you right now - you know your nerves are fraught after the last few days but you wonder if you look as pitiful as you feel right now, begging for forgiveness for something you haven’t even been chastised for yet.

“Darlin’, Christ, what in the hell -” Joel starts to murmur at the absolute state of you, eyes catching again on that stain you’d been trying to scrub out of the sheets. His face falls with the full realization, eyes glancing between your legs for a moment as if he’ll find further proof of his suspicion there, only to find you clad in your sweatpants.

You’re unrelenting, head bowed deeply, tears never ending, and Joel finds himself torn between being irritated by the completely misplaced blubbering and his compulsion to care for you, comfort you.

“Jesus…” he sighs. “Out. Now. Go wait in the bedroom f’me while I take care of it.”

“B-but -” you protest.

“What’d we say about fuckin’ questionin’ me, princess?” he snips, pinching the bridge of his nose quickly before letting the hand drop dramatically to his side. “Out. Bedroom. Now.” he speaks each word with a renewed vigor, voice full of a rich gravel, deadly serious and sending a chill up your spine. You whimper but go to rush past him, not able to bear meeting his eyeline as your shoulder brushes against his. He swings around in a flash and grabs your wrist, jerking you back from where you’d already stepped past him. You cry out, flinching in preparation for the impact but Joel’s hand only darts under the waistband of your pants (a rule broken to even have them on in the first place, you realize grimly) and slides into your underwear. He quickly cups your bare cunt and starts to rub a few circles on your clit, making you cry out again desperately. You don’t want this, not in your current state, not with the way things are down there right now, messy and impure for him. A man will want nothing to do with you this time of the month, you’d always been told, Josephine’s voice ringing clear in your head. It was even best to avoid them altogether at that special womanly time if you could.

“D-daddy… I’m - no don’t… it’s not… you won’t like it,” you stutter out desperately, praying he won’t be completely repulsed by the sight of you now and throw you out for the wolves and clickers to make quick work of what remained of you.

Joel huffs, fingers prodding at your tight entrance, slipping a knuckle inside. You clench and grit through your teeth when his grasp digs into your wrist hard. He starts to finger you at a faster pace, pushing past your discomfort until you start to moan quietly, eyes still trained on the floor, only able to catch a glimpse of the way his hand is moving inside of your panties out of the corner of your eye.

Joel yanks his hand out, smeared red and you squeeze your eyes shut, holding back another sob. “Don’t ever tell daddy what he likes and doesn’t like again, got it?” You nod dutifully and his hand is gone as quickly as it had grabbed you moments ago. “Now, let me do what I gotta do in here,” he says, a hint softer, shooing you away. You don’t bother to look back, surprised Joel hadn’t even made you meet his eyeline at some point during this entire interaction. But the entirety of you is burning with embarrassment, shame, hot all the way from your cheeks and ears down to your churning belly. You pace back and forth in the bedroom, holding back loud sobs as you choke into your hand before completely breaking down, sinking to the floor next to the bed and leaning your back onto the frame.

You don’t know how long you cry for, how long your head is buried down in your arms in your miserable, curled up state. You hardly start to feel anything at all after a while, finally resigning yourself to whatever form of punishment or worse for what you’ve done. Between this and last night, you’re feeling like a shell, nothing left to offer up to Joel other than whimpered apologies and promises. 

You don’t quite register the sound of his boots on the hardwood, stepping over towards you before you feel him on you, thick, strong arms wrapping around your shoulders. Here to love, here to comfort, not punish you, your mind taking a few moments to process it. 

“Shh… my little blossom… it’s okay…” Joel murmurs when he hears you sniffle, your body twitching as you come down from the wracking sobs you’d been wailing out. “Can you look at daddy, please?”

You whine quietly, shaking your head in defiance but still picking it up, looking at him with your face puffy and cheeks wet, bloodshot eyes making Joel feel a pang of pity in his heart.

And yet, he smiles at the sight of you. 

“There’s my girl. I missed you, baby, d’ya know that?” His fingers brush your cheeks, hot and soaked with tears as he brushes some of the wetness away. You just frown, mouth slightly ajar as you stare at him, feeling almost numb after the way you’d cried your poor heart out two days in a row now. 

“Hey now, it’s okay.  This is all natural, sweetheart, now how could daddy be mad about your body doin’ what it’s gotta do?” 

You shake your head in disbelief, finding your world turned on its head yet another time by Joel. How could it be possible that he felt so differently than everyone you’ve known, everything you’ve been taught? Who was even in the right here? What was the truth?

“I- I -“ you stutter, blinking a few times in a daze before another hiccup rolls through you. “I thought men didn’t like that…”

Joel breathes out a small laugh, breaking the tension. “Some, I guess. Now who taught you that?”

Your cheeks warm again and you glance down, shying away. You know Joel already knows the answer, that he wants to hear you say it, admit another thing you’ve been in the dark about. 

“M-my group… my community…” You realize you’re sniffling again, tears welling in your eyes as you’re hit with a strange sense of homesickness. You don’t know that you want to go back, necessarily, but your heart squeezes a little at the thought of the life you’d led for so long that was too suddenly ripped out from underneath you to really process it. 

“Well, they gave you more than one piece of bogus information, haven’t they sweetheart?”

“I… I- suppose so,” you admit tentatively, “B-but the sheets… I’m sorry, daddy, I really am…” you start, feeling yourself about to spiral out of control again but Joel quickly reigns it in with a tight squeeze of your cheeks between his hands. 

“Enough,” he says sternly but with an edge of care. “I took care of it. You can’t get so worked up ‘bout things like this, honey, thas’ why we made the rules, remember?” Joel fully sits next to you on the floor you now, gently tilting your head to keep your watery eyes on his. 

“Y-yes…”

“Nothin’ on there ‘bout makin’ a mess, right?” A curt nod from you. “Daddy’s more upset about how upset you are right now. I’m not gonna punish y’for gettin’ your damn period, sugar. I…” he sighs, a small ache of sadness apparent on his features for just a beat. “I ain’t a monster.” Words he isn’t sure he believes about himself, but ones he hopes that you do.

You feel your eyes widen a little at his choice of words, ones that had gone through your head not even twenty four hours prior. You reach up, gently touch the hand cradling your face, and nod again. 

“Y-you’re not…” you assure him, still a stuttering mess, but the both of you seem to relax in an instant, Joel content to just hold onto you for a few silent moments as he helps you breathe in and out, urging you to relax into him. 

“I’ve got somethin’ f’you,” Joel says softly as you lean on him, head melting into his shoulder as you continue to hiccup and tremble, your body fighting to calm down after such an upheaval.

“Yeah?” you ask, lifting your head to peer up at him. Joel scoots forward, pushing himself off of the floor with a loud, strained grunt before offering you his hand. You take it, letting him help you up and show you over towards the dresser, where he pulls over the rickety wooden chair that adorns the corner of the room. You’re eager now as he reaches into his pocket and presents you with something small. You take it tenderly into your palm, afraid of the sudden weight of the tiny glass vial.

“Wh-” you murmur out, face furrowed in concentration as you peer down at it.

“Nail polish. Know someone who knows someone who well, kinda makes the stuff. Or rehabs old ones, or somethin’,”  Joel quickly explains, and your eyes blink rapidly as you bite the inside of your lip, hiding the elation building up inside of you, pressing against your very being.

“R-really?” you ask excitedly, eyes glued to the bottle filled with a pink, thick liquid. “I was, uh, never allowed to have this stuff,” you say more quietly, shy to admit it.

Joel’s face hardens and he presses his lips together. “That so? Why don’t that surprise me…”

“Hm?” you ask absently, still completely transfixed, rotating the tiny glass bottle in your hands. Joel lets his mumble hang in the air, not bothering to repeat it. 

“Why don’t you try it out?” he suggests, and you look up at him, quickly seeking permission. They were already hard to find on supply runs, but any beauty products were frowned upon anyways - a distraction of the modern world, taking away from what we should really be focusing on. Any discovery of such items had them removed immediately from the home in question and a generous slap on the wrist was given. 

You forget all of that history now, eagerly twisting open the bottle, immediately scrunching your nose at the strange scent that wafts out. 

“Yeah, shit stinks, babygirl. Never understood why women wanted to go ‘round smellin’ that just for some beauty,” Joel says, chuckling, sounding so strangely normal now as he rambles on. You pull the brush out, admiring the pretty pink color with a soft smile. “Can’t complain though. Good set of nails looked damn sexy ‘f I’m honest,” Joel adds more lightheartedly. You feel yourself getting warm at the idea of doing something sexy for Joel, being alluring. A foreign concept you weren’t sure you could ever find yourself used to. He stands, leaning against the wall while you awkwardly hold your hand in the air, trying to stroke the brush on your nail. It looks streaky, already getting onto the sides of your finger and you frown - it’s not quite the glamour you’d expected. You hunch over a little more as a small wave of cramps hits and try to steady yourself. Your hands are still shaky from the rush of fear and adrenaline you’d had coursing through you as Joel had arrived home to your mess. 

“Gotta do it like this, honey,” Joel says, gripping your wrist and placing your hand down flat on the dresser. You try again, brows knit in concentration but coming up with a similarly disappointing product.

“Alright, alright,” Joel interrupts. “You’re too worked up still sweetheart. Look at you shakin’.” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head a little. “I ran you a bath while I was in there. C’mon now, ‘fore it gets cold.”

“Yes, daddy…” you say quietly, still looking down at your nails in disappointment.

“I’ll do ‘em for you, make you all pretty, mkay?” he says reassuringly, his eyes focused on where he’s still gently holding onto your hand but you watch them, wanting to see the look in his eyes when he says something so sweet and generous. These moments are the ones you hold and treasure - these glimpses of a man who you know cares, who wants everything good for you. 

The hot water soothes you instantly, Joel taking a moment to clean your nails of the first attempt at polishing them with a wet washcloth before having you soak them in the water. He’s quiet, contemplative as you two linger in the steamy, cramped room with Joel sat on the floor next to the tub. It’s an odd look for him, something so… servile, submissive to you, the way his hulking form hardly seems to fit in here, his outdoor clothing still clung to his muscles. He seems to be paying less mind to your body than usual despite it being fully naked, on display through the bathwater. You thought something like this would make you feel safe, but it’s doing quite the opposite.

“Up.” Joel says, breaking the silence as he taps your left forearm and you lift your hand out of the bath, laying it on the towel that Joel has draped along the edge of the tub. He dries your fingers and then takes your hand gingerly in his, rubbing his thumb along your knuckles. He unscrews the polish and gets to work, carefully stroking it along your nail, and you watch in wonder as he gets it looking much better than you had. He uses his own fingernail to scrape along the edge, picking up any of the polish that ran onto your nail beds.

“Weren’t allowed to use this stuff before, then?” Joel asks casually, breaking the silence. He’s been more than ready to dig into your past, find those pieces of you that made you who you are today, made you so vulnerable and weak when you’d showed up on his doorstep. Pieces that he fully intends on putting back together, making you whole, wholly his. 

“Y-yeah. Nothing like this. Makeup, too. Just… the rules, I guess.” Your casual reply suggests much more underneath the surface, but you just stare on at Joel’s fingers slightly clumsily painting along your fingernails.

“Y’all had a lot of rules in that community, blossom.” A statement. Fact. One you can’t deny or defend, a skill you’ve developed to rationalize your entire life in the confines of your mind over the years.

You shrug your free shoulder and twist your lips. “I guess… What about here, I have lots of rules,” you dare to say, quickly biting your lip to silence yourself. 

Joel pauses and glances up, unreadable as always. “Y’do. But you’re allowed to do what you want, baby. I jus’ want you to respect me and know who you belong to. S’all, not these crazy rules like those folks had.”

You nod slowly, pondering his words - he had a point, you suppose, when he puts it like that. 

“An’ your group, there was a leader there?” Joel questions, getting back to work on your nails, carefully dipping the polish and tracing it along your fingernails. 

“Y-yeah… how’d you know that?”

Joel ignores your question, continuing on with more urgency, and you’re not quite sure what he’s getting at with all of these questions. “Tell me more. Did he… mm, enforce the rules? Talk to ya privately at all?”

“You knew it was a he…”

“‘Course it was a he, this is a cu-“ Joel pauses in the midst of his irritated snap. His free hand slides along the back of his neck in one swipe before it comes back to the edge of the tub. “Yeah, baby, I jus’ figured.”

“Why are you asking so many questions?” you spill out anxiously, your voice dimming to a quiet whisper, the air becoming too thick to breathe, like you can sense an oncoming storm. 

“Jus’ tell me more,” Joel demands. “Please, darlin’,” he adds on a little more patiently, softening for you. 

“W-well yeah. Callum was who we all looked to. Rules and preaching and stuff. And he would come over sometimes, sit and like… talk to me and stuff.” You shrug again, not sure what else Joel is looking for you to say.  

Joel’s jaw ticks slightly and his eyes narrow. His hand freezes above yours, polish brush looking so small in his huge hand. “This Callum, he ever touch you? Lay a hand on you? Do anything like what we do together?”

“N-no!” you cry out, nearly pulling your hand back from him as you sit up straighter. “Daddy I swear, I wasn’t lying when I said I’ve never…” You feel your face warm, recalling the innocence you’d arrived here with just last week. Wondering how much of it would be gone by the end of all of this. 

Joel’s free hand cups your cheek in a flash. “Okay, baby, I know all that, I believe ya. I just needed to check if this man was takin’ advantage of ya.”

You shake your head almost violently, hoping to convince Joel you aren’t lying, because you aren’t. He’s just not always been the most rational when it comes to you, it’s seemed, and you don’t want to give him any reason to get worked up. “I d-don’t think so. I know Harry and Josie, they really liked him, and I think they wanted him to like them back… and like me…”

Joel’s eyes narrow, scouring your words for any hint of hidden meaning behind them. “They ever hurt you? Any of ‘em?”

You’re silent, lips tucked tightly together. Memories flash through your mind and you feel your body tense. Josie’s tight grip on your arm as she dragged you home after you missed your youth class to pet the horses. Harry laying into you after a similar incident. A hazy memory of Callum gripping you by the face a little too hard and inspecting you, like he was sizing you up for something. Your parents scolding you for not believing enough, your father slapping you across the face for questioning why it mattered so much to say a prayer before eating. All you’d ever wanted… was for it to all make sense. To feel like you were being told the honest truth for once. But instead, you felt that the more you asked, the more you questioned, tried to understand things, the further in the dark they’d all shoved you. Claiming it was for the best, the less you knew, the more pure you could be, and you’d never gotten the chance to understand why before it all went to hell. 

“Y-yes… just a little…” you practically whisper, ashamed to admit it. That you’d let yourself be treated that way by all of them, and now by Joel, too. 

Joel is quiet for a few moments, his hulking frame tensing up. He taps your right arm and starts the same painting process on that hand. He’s lost in thought and you can see his lines furrowing deeper on his forehead as his wheels turn. 

Joel suddenly says your name, your real name, not one of his special pet names for you and your eyes go wide, stomach sinking. You want to tell him to stop, to not say what he’s planning to, to keep his secrets and let you live on in ignorance as you have for so much of your life. “I’m gonna tell you somethin’, and I don’t know how you’re gonna like it. But you’ve gotta listen to daddy now, okay?”

Your stomach twists, the bathwater suddenly feeling too hot around you and you squirm. “O-okay…” you mumble, trying to keep yourself steady. 

“I don’t think that your group were good people, baby. You’ve told me all these rules they had, the way they treated you, treated women. An’ I don’t like the thought of how they jus’… kept you in the dark, darlin’. You deserve to be happy.”

“Uh-huh…” you nod, unable to formulate a response beyond that, eyes unblinking as you gape at Joel. 

Joel sighs, licking his lips. “Why d’you think they did that?”

“I-I don’t know. Harry and Josephine were always… trying to make me… more like them. They just… wanted a daughter like them, maybe? They c-can’t have kids…”

“Hmm.” Joel finishes your right hand, capping the nail polish and setting it aside. “They were pretty hard on you?”

You nod, eyes finally looking up to Joel’s face, seeing sympathy for you written there. “They wanted me to be a good member of the community… real badly. Prayers every day and recitations and rules and… all of it. Like I was harder to get through to, more bad than the other girls…” You shake your head, remembering the droll afternoons you’d spent staring out the window of their home as Josephine urged you to do just one more lesson, never letting up even when you’d begged to give your mind a much needed break. “Was gonna be the best girl there when they were done with me, they said…” Your voice cracks and you sniffle suddenly, not even realizing you’d started tearing up. 

“Okay, little one, it’s okay. No more memories of that right now. Just…” Joel pauses, his mouth hanging open slightly as he debates his next words. With a sigh, he gives up, opting to just blurt out his next words. “They’re a cult, baby.”

“Cult?” you ask, perplexed, voice still shaky.

“Yeah, didn’t think you’d have heard that word before if they could help it,” he mutters in reply. Joel’s eyes almost look crazed, and he grabs you by the cheeks, keeping your attention fully focused on him with a sudden resolve across his features. “They’re bad folks, that’s all. That man, that Callum, all he wants is power, in whatever way he can get it. Y’understand? Gettin’ folks to be desperate enough to look to him, give them somethin’ to believe in. False… hope. Easier in times like these even, with the world as shit as it is, than in the old days.”

You just stare at Joel, trying to understand exactly what he’s saying, what all of it means for you. “They’re not good people? They seemed so… charitable… that was… they always wanted to help people. They helped me…” you trail off, eyes drifting away from Joel’s face, fixating on the faded and worn tiles along the wall of the bathtub as your mind races. 

“Helped you by lettin’ you live, feedin’ you, puttin’ their false purposes and beliefs onto you. But they held you back. All people like them want is to keep their power or gain more of it. An’ take it from sweet little ones like you, jus’ use you as a pawn in their game, not let you express yourself like daddy would.”

You glance back at Joel feeling heavier, knowing there’s a concerned frown plastered on your face. You shake your head a little, tears gathering on the rims of your eyes. These people you’d trusted, known for almost your whole life, and yet… If what Joel said was true they were all just manipulators, power hungry, looking out for their own meals. Joel uses his thumbs to wipe your cheeks, picking up the streaks of tears trailing downwards.

“P-please, daddy… I don’t wanna hear any more…” you say, pouting, your voice starting to waver. “It’s hard…. to believe. I j-just thought I knew them… thought that they were what the world was… I’m s-so…” You lose your words in the moment, just feeling an overwhelming, profound sadness washing over you at the loss. You’d already accepted the way you’d lost your community in the physical sense after the attack, after finding Joel’s cabin and realizing you were more likely stuck here for the foreseeable future. But realizing that you possibly couldn’t bring yourself to go back there knowing what you know now, it makes your chest tighten with a pang of despair and homesickness for a home you’d never really had. You almost refuse to believe it, want to chalk it up to another one of Joel’s games, that he must be over exaggerating just how bad they really were.

Joel’s hands cradle your head again, his body moving forward to crush his forehead against yours. “S’okay to be sad, you know that? It’s a hard truth but one you gotta hear, my sweet one. I’m sorry it had to be this way. Daddy’s real sorry.”

You nod, letting Joel’s large palms warm your cheeks in the comforting embrace, the smell of him permeating at such a close distance right now. One large inhale of his musk, an intimate scent to you now, brings you back to earth, tames you.

“All I’m ever gonna ask ‘f you is to show me respect w’those rules, mkay? Nothin’ more. They might seem tough sometimes, I know. Hell, they might even seem jus’ as bad as their rules to you, but they ain’t, and you’ll come to learn that. You know what the difference is, hm?”

You shake your head, curious eyes on Joel’s as your tears start to dry. “W-what is it?”

“I care about you. I do it ‘cause it’s what you need, what you really want. An’ for good reasons. Not all that bullshit. You want to be a good girl for daddy, make me happy, make us happy, don’t you?”

“I do, swear, sir…” you reply breathlessly, nodding. “I don’t want…” You swallow hard, realizing you were about to admit that you don’t want to see them again, but you aren’t sure you can promise something that big just yet. It hurts, wondering if it would be the right decision, or if Joel is just as bad as them, just as likely to use you as a pawn in his own game. You feel a surge of heat rush over you, your skin lava hot for a flash as if Joel could read your mind, catch the doubt that flashes through it.

“I like being safe here with you,” you settle on instead, smiling softly at Joel.

Joel smiles back, clasping the palms of your hands in his, careful not to touch your still drying nails. “An’ you always will be. I got you, baby. You don’t think I’m like them, now, do you?”

You feel sick, stomach clenched and turning while your head spins. Maybe Joel is right. You have the freedom here to find yourself. The freedom to believe what you want, as long as you believe in him above all else. To do as you please, even if it’s within those small guidelines he’d laid out for you. It’s nothing like the long lists of ways to behave and act that you were used to - the endless prayers, passages on how to be the most virtuous girl, followed by the guilt and shame of being unsure of how you could ever live up to it. Here, it’s just one piece of paper - ways to make the both of you happy, allow you to rest your weary mind and show Joel that you’re thankful for the way he’s saved you. You quickly shake your head no before you take too long of a pause to answer. 

“No, daddy. You’re not,” you say decidedly, believing it. You have to, if you’re going to get through this.

“Good.” Joel’s lips turn up a little and he picks up your left hand, starting to blow softly on the nails. “Here, blow.” He nods to your right hand for you to do the same thing, so you bring it to your lips and blow softly. 

“You never have to see them again, blossom. You’re all mine now, remember?” Joel’s voice has a hint of teasing, like he wants to lighten the mood for you, and you’re more than willing to take him up on it right now. Your mind feels fried, wrecked beyond return for the day already, and you want to fall into Joel’s comforts, the way he takes away the way your mind races too much, swirling with enough worries to fill a lifetime.

“Yeah.” Soft and quiet, confirming it with a coy little smile as you drop your head towards your shoulder, giving him a wanton look and relaxing your body, stretching your legs out a little underneath the water, sending ripples across the surface. “I’m all yours.” The words feel better on your tongue than they ever have after this revelation. Only Joel, you think, only he would have the guts to tell you like it was like that, to share the truth with you. It showed some kind of respect, didn’t it? That he didn’t just hide this to spare your fragile, broken feelings. He knows how vulnerable you are, how green you’ve been raised to be, yet he thought you could handle it, that you deserved to hear what you’d been in the dark about your entire life. 

Joel’s eyes narrow a bit and he looks at you with a curiosity you haven’t quite seen from him before. “You mean that,” he says with that same curiosity in his voice, and you don’t know how he can tell, but he’s right. You had meant what you said - ready to start this new chapter of your life despite the reservations you had about Joel’s methods at times, you were ready to try. With Joel seeming unwilling to let you go anyways, you figure your best chance is to learn from him, maybe even enjoy the time you spend together, the pleasure he gives you. You like it when he sees you as good, his good girl, your skin tingling at just the thought of it. 

“I do,” you reply a little coyly, flashing him a tight lipped smile. You’re suddenly very aware of your body, the nakedness of it now as the water gently laps at you, your nipples hardening slightly as Joel’s eyes slip down towards them with a hunger in his gaze.

“Is my blossom comin’ onto me?” Joel teases, craning his neck forwards to kiss you. You giggle into his lips, kissing him back.

“N-no. I’m a good girl, remember?” You feel your heart beating wildly, testing even your own limits with how sensual you can be without losing confidence. You fight the urge to laugh, wanting, craving, to be something sexy for once in your life. More than a number, a shapeless thing to be conquered into virtuousness.

Joel bites his lip. “Where’d you learn to become a little fuckin’ tease like that?” he responds incredulously, inching his hand over the side of the tub and into the water. You clock it immediately, your thighs tightening in anticipation at the coming pleasure. Your body screams for it now after days apart, your mind equally eager to learn more from him. For once in your life, a lesson that actually intrigues you, an education that may feel worth experiencing, may make you feel valued, right. 

If being removed from it all for just a few short weeks was enough to change your way of thinking like this, to stop the daily prayers and the virtuous desperation from pouring out of you, was it ever really you?

The minute Joel’s fingers part your soft, velvet folds, completely unaware of the battle inside of your warring head, the chaos fades away, disappearing completely. 

Just like you seem to be. 

smother - part viii: punishment, peace

dark!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: your first punishment comes after being tested by joel, and it changes something in you, letting you easily fall into a routine with a man you should not be this comfortable with. 13.5k words (LMFAO THEY KEEP GETTING LONGER) chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI! dubcon - stockholm syndrome, general coercion, innocent reader, big juicy age gap (reader is 19, joel is 55), ddlg/daddy dom! joel, sub!reader, spanking as punishment (reader is in agreement to it but again coercion and all that), joel is rough and manipulative with reader, but also some more soft joel, reader wears a collar, use of a leash this chapter, fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, period sex, corruption kink, pet names for reader, dirty talk, food consumption, discussion of pregnancy, reader gets her period, brief description of reader's clothing (see through nightgown), if these darker tags aren't your cup of tea please keep scrolling! a/n: holy fucking shit you guys 😭 i don't know why i literally have too much to say about these two and can't shut the fuck up-itis but here's another thick ass chapter for you all! i'm ready to get into some meaty stuff after next chapter as well so bear with me! thank you for the love on this story so far. and thank you to @janaispunk for being there for me and reading over this for me and helping calm my fears 🤍

reminder i have no taglist anymore, follow @beardedjoel-updates to hear about my new fics!

Joel’s sweet streak doesn’t last very long.

You stand, trembling a little, naked as the bathwater drains below your feet, and Joel wraps a towel around your shoulders. You shiver and he pulls it tight, starting to help you dry off, and you let him do most of the work. You’re exhausted, eyes a bit heavy from your meltdown, but Joel had used his fingers to make you come, soft and gentle until you were whimpering for him in the bath, and you found yourself feeling a bit better now. Smitten, in fact, towards the man who kept promising you so much. You didn’t realize that it would take him leaving for you to consider how badly you’d wanted to stay here with him.

“Oh, sweet girl,” Joel says suddenly, reaching forward and tugging you into him, the rim of the bathtub still separating the two of you. “I missed you s’much, daddy was worried sick about you while he was gone.” His hands rub along your back over the scratchy towel, keeping you pressed close, and the warmth radiating from him helps stop your shaking. You aren’t sure what it is - the cold of the air after the hot bath, still coming down from the way you’d trembled in Joel’s hold while you came only minutes ago, or the general fear you find tingling in your gut when you’re around him. 

“Finish dryin’ off,” he orders, taking your hand in his and helping you out of the bath, where errant droplets of water fling off of you and onto the thick wooden planks that make up the floor. “Don’t leave this room ‘till I come back f’you.”

You only follow the order silently, eyes heavy, not finding the energy to speak back as you rub the towel over your damp skin and watch him go, only for him to return just a few moments later and wrap an arm around you, landing it on your lower back and guiding you out of the room. Your heart starts to thump a little faster, his silence practically deafening - it was harder when you didn’t know what Joel was thinking, what his next moves were. 

“Lay down,” he commands when you two enter the bedroom, and your breathing picks up a little. You open your mouth to reply, to protest at all, worried about the fact that you still had much more to come with your period, how Joel would react to it all. “Lay down,” he says again, his words clipped and strained. You fight a whimper and walk towards the bed, where you see Joel had just placed a fresh set of sheets on, a pretty powder blue that you knew would become stained by you immediately. You flash him a look of concern, of doubt, and only see furrowed brows hiding his narrow, dark eyes as he juts a hand out towards the bed impatiently.

“Drop the towel.” Another demand, so you do, and Joel grabs it as it’s falling off of your naked form and lays it down along your usual side of the bed. You situate yourself, hesitantly placing your bottom on the towel then continue to watch him warily as he moves about the room, making his way back to the dresser, that same drawer he’d gotten the collar from the other night.

He turns around, holding a new piece of leather, looking similar to what you already have around your neck, but it’s much longer and the reality sinks in, remembering the chain that you’d discovered in the front closet. You wince quietly, praying Joel couldn’t hear the depraved little noise, and feel your thighs tense and tighten a little, completely unable to understand why.

Joel’s lips turn to a small smirk, satisfied when he sees you squirm a little while he approaches. “My little sugar likes the look of this, don’t she?” he rumbles out, leaning forward along the edge of the bed closest to you, just enough to brush his nose along yours, lips tempting you before pulling away. He slides the leather through his hands, a contemplative look on his face. 

“Say ‘yes daddy’,” Joel says, folding the leather and snapping it absentmindedly. He leans towards you, a finger hooking in the o-ring of your collar, barely tugging, but enough that the back of the collar pulls tighter against your neck, making your breath hitch at the sudden change.

“Yes… daddy…” you reply faintly, feeling completely sapped but on edge at the same time, your nerves frayed and sensitive, eyes burning and sore from pouring out tears for such a long time over the last twenty four hours.

“That’s my girl,” Joel says. His fingers drop the collar and reach behind you, looping the leather around the post of the bed, making a show of it as he runs his fingers up the length of it to the small clip at the other end. His eyes flash to your face over and over, gauging your reaction, but you try to sit still, the only indication of your feelings is your chest heaving as you try to get your mind to wrap around yet another new expectation from Joel. “Oh, you’ll look mighty pretty all safe in this bed, won’t you? Daddy won’t have to worry about a thing.” he murmurs as he clasps the leash to the o-ring, and you feel tears sting your eyes.

It starts to hit you that this isn’t just for a few minutes while Joel has his way with you, he means to leave you like this. “D-daddy… no…  you don’t have to… what’re you -”

“Shh, princess, daddy jus’ needs this. He’s feelin’ a little protective of you after bein’ away, worryin’ sick about you. Don’t you think that’s fair I have a little time to know you’re safe ‘n sound? Hm?” His head cocks and he grips the leash, presenting a tiny lock from his palm that you can hear him clip on, securing the leash to the collar, no way for you to unclip it without the key, which Joel will undoubtedly keep on him.

“I- I- can come with you, downstairs, uh, wherever you want…” you plead, knowing you’re pushing your luck, toeing the line of the clearly set boundaries he’s given you. But the thought of staying in this room all alone, wondering when Joel would make his next appearance, decide when you were allowed to eat, speak, and fuck made your stomach tighten with anxiety. “Please…” you add on quietly, squeezing your eyes shut to try and hold back your tears. Your eyes are tired of it, burning and blurred but you feel them watering, anyways.

“Right here’s juuuust fine, daddy’ll picture you waitin’ for me, all ready f’me whenever I need you.” He lets out a tiny growl from the very back of his throat at the thought alone, picturing you spread eagle, glistening, in need for him every moment he’s away, and unable to get enough in the ones he isn’t. “Jus’ missed you so much, my perfect little girl, that’s all this is - daddy wants to protect you, protect that pretty neck,” he rambles, eyes falling to your throat, adorned with the leather strap and then further down, raking over your naked body. “An’ all of this…” he adds on with more hunger in his eyes, a lustful gaze hovering along your chest and then between your thighs.

He dips forward as he stands next to the bed, hands on either side of you to support himself, his lips finding yours in a soft kiss - his attempt at reassurance. “Don’t cry, baby, you’ve had enough tears,” he says softly, one hand coming up to thumb off a few tears before he kisses you again.

“You think of me, think of how good I’ll make you feel next time I come up ‘n see you, feel yourself get all tingly right here,” he says, that same hand moving between your thighs to cup where you already know you’ve gotten a little wet. The second you saw the leash your stomach had churned, but you found your pussy pulsing a little at the thought of it. Joel owning you. He’d made that clear nights ago, that he owned every bit of you, that you were his to move and use and do as he sees fit, the leash only an extension of that, a symbol for the both of you.

Joel chuckles, his fingers spreading slightly to move along your pussy, feeling the bit of slick already waiting for him. He clicks his tongue, pulling back to meet your eyes with his in a slight daze. “Already wet…” he mumbles, kissing you again, teasing you with his fingers for a few moments, a shaky breath leaving your nose as you sigh a quiet moan into his mouth. 

“I’ve got a few things to take care of,” he says suddenly before pulling away fully, stepping back from the bed. You sit forward and start to crawl down the bed, reaching for him, a soft grunt exhaling when you’re tugged back by the leash. Your hands go to your neck, clutching at it, begging for relief.

“Daddy…” you whine, frowning as he moves further away. “Daddy,” you cry again, your voice a little hoarse as you strain against the collar pulling taught against your throat.

Joel turns back and watches quietly for a few beats, his head cocked and expression unreadable. Almost like he looks unimpressed, yet satisfied at the same time to be watching the little show you’re putting on for him - just what he wants, you begging for him, you needing him.

“Be good, blossom.” He turns around and walks out, shutting the door to the bedroom behind him with a soft click.

You don’t know how long he’s gone for. Time passes differently in this room. Since you’ve arrived at this cabin, really. Each day is a laze, stretching on for what feels like ages, yet flying by in a blink, your mind unable to comprehend that you’ve been here a week already.

At first you sit nearly catatonic right where you’d been when Joel left, completely devastated by your new predicament, thoughts racing out of control as you wonder just how long you’ll be alone and restricted like this. You’re not usually quick to anger, but you feel frustrated he left you here to rot, naked at that, especially while you’re on your period. You’re supposed to just lay here and bleed all over this towel? This is the same Joel who had painted your nails and been so loving not even thirty minutes ago, and you find it hard to believe. You wipe away the few tears that slip by, hardening and deciding to move around and start testing your limits. You can’t get far, can only stand up along your side of the bed, and there’s enough leeway that you can pretty much sit up or rest on either side of the bed. You find that you can lay down relatively comfortably, meaning you could get some much needed sleep if your now restless brain would give you enough of a break to try.

You shake your head to yourself, doubting you can turn off the way Joel has set you off now, when before you’d been so relaxed from your bath that you’d prayed for a nap. Yet when your head hits the pillow with a sigh, you doze within minutes.

The door cracks and you start to stir, blinking a few times to reorient yourself, rolling over only to be reminded of the leash as you feel the burden of it on your neck, the extra weight being tugged along. Joel creeps in, seeing you looking peaceful, trying to be quiet until he notices you rustling under the comforter, already awake. 

“There’s my girl,” he whispers hoarsely with a coy smile, approaching the bed. He looks more comfortable than before, having stripped off some of his layers, only in a tee shirt now with his jeans, boots kicked off likely by the front door. You give him a soft smile in return, just glad he came back for you. 

“Daddy…” you whisper as you turn your head over your shoulder, voice a little hoarse with sleep. You feel desperate for his contact, for any kind of touch, reaching a hand behind you as you lay on your side, willing for it to touch him, to reach him. 

“Thas’ right, I’m here,” Joel replies, crawling into bed and quickly spooning behind you, immediately flush with your body and the first thing you notice is a hard lump pressing into your back. He’d come for that, not to rescue you. But he starts to take his time - his fingers brush delicately along your cheek, down your neck, then on to your arm and you shudder, your body responding instantly to the soft, tender touch. He strokes little patterns on every bit of skin he can, finally working his way inward towards your breasts, testing your nipples between his fingers with a tiny roll. You gasp softly, a quiet little whimper following when he continues touching the hard buds, working them between the pads of his fingers. 

“Did my little pet stay wet for me?” he whispers next to your ear, his lips brushing the shell of it with a soft kiss. 

You nod, feeling the familiar Joel-induced trembling starting inside of you. “I tried, daddy… but I fell asleep.” His fingers work on your nipples for a few quiet moments, just listening to the little noises you make, desperate ones, ones he’d been dying to hear from you.

“Hmm…” he murmurs, moving from your nipples to snake the hand between your legs. “Think you could do better next time,” he decides, feeling that you’ve only started to get wet again. “But that’s okay, need my baby well rested f’me, don’t I?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” you concur, nodding again. “W-was just wanting you back here, so I went to sleep hoping it’d come faster,” you add on with a little whine, realizing how lonely you’d felt when Joel was in Jackson had only tripled knowing he was right here in the house, just willfully ignoring you.

Your words make Joel groan, a deep, sensual noise that reverberates in your ear. “So sweet f’ missin’ daddy like that,” he growls, his hips rutting into your ass a little bit more, grinding against you.

Joel’s lips attach to your bare shoulder, kissing and sucking, then harder, and it makes your breath catch on the inhale. He does another, then another, moving his way to your neck, where fading marks need to be freshened up, the space on your body reclaimed by him. Joel peers down at your now swollen skin, already discoloring and smiles. 

“So beautiful when everyone can see you’re mine…”

You know his words are useless, nobody will come within miles of this place to even see his special marks, but you whine quietly anyways as his twang rumbles so close to your ear. It sends your thighs clenching a little before your body rolls back towards him, pressing your ass into the hard bulge in his jeans. 

“What is it? What’s my little blossom tryna say?” Joel teases, when he notices your mouth trying to stutter out the only thing your brain can focus on: Joel’s touch. 

“I… w-want you… there…” you say, breathlessly, feeling your skin burn hot at the allusion to something so intimate.

“Oh, you missed daddy’s cock, that it? Missed me fuckin’ you full’a me?” Joel slides a hand underneath the side of you that’s against the bed, snaking it around the front of your throat. He grasps where the leash meets the collar and tugs you back into him, your neck straining as you try to nod and answer his question. 

“Y-yes… sir,” you whimper with a slight crack in your voice. 

Without any further warning, he slowly slides a finger inside of you, pressing it deep. You squirm, inhaling a sharp breath at the tiny stretch he’s giving you before he slips a second finger in quickly. Your whines grow louder, that feeling of fullness so good but not enough, not like you’d felt when you were on his lap before he left for Jackson. That was impossibly full, the sensation burning right through you, so complete with him that deep inside of you.

“D-daddy…” you moan, “Please… I -” You try to get the words out, your chest tightening at the thought of begging him for his cock of your own volition - it just didn’t seem lady like to you, like something you should be doing. You try to remind yourself of Joel’s words, that everything you’d learned had been from bad people doing a bad thing, meaning you couldn’t be wrong for enjoying this, right? If that was true, you couldn’t be wrong for dreaming about the way he slid into you, picturing exactly the way he’s holding you by the collar right now, making sure you know how much of a pet you are to him. Your cunt aches at the thought now as his fingers fuck you, your clit pulsing and needy at something you wish felt more wrong to you. But it just… doesn’t. 

“She’s so empty, ain’t she? Tell me how much you thought about this cock while I was gone, baby. All day, hm? You wanna touch yourself while I was gone?” Joel grits out in your ear, his breathing picking up.

“U-uh-huh, all day, all day, daddy,” you say with a shaky voice as his fingers pump a little faster, gathering speed as slick, lewd sounds start to fill the room. “I wanted to…”

“But you didn’t,” Joel states, so assured in his words, like he has some extra sense, some way to know just by looking at you. The thought of him reading you that well, knowing all your innermost thoughts and secrets makes you shudder as his thumb presses to your clit. “Did you?” You shake your head fervently, mutter a string of no’s, showing him you mean it. “I know y’didn’t, you know how I know that?”

You shake your head, barely able to think straight as your eyes flutter shut and your legs fall open even more for Joel’s touch.

“‘Cause you’re a good girl. You understand…” he trails off, his fingers moving sloppily, yet precisely curling up into your g-spot and pushing on that deep part of you. You’re going limp, half hearing his words but still soaking up the praise as a flicker of heat lights up in your lower belly. “You understand what your place is here, sugar. Daddy’s little pet…” 

You moan loudly at his words, the way he tugs hard on the leash when he says the word pet. You feel your mind fight you, sickened at how much you love what’s happening to you right now, the way you’re utterly at Joel’s mercy, unable to move with both of his arms around you. You twitch as his thumb flicks at your sensitive clit, toying with it just enough to make you consider begging him to go harder, to let you reach that sweet, glorious release you’ve started to crave, to need like the air you breathe.

“Little pet…” you echo with a choked whisper, and Joel’s lips turn into a sneer, his entire body hot against yours as he brings you in as close as he possibly can. 

“Fuck…” Joel groans, the strength with which he’s tugging the leash seeming to be an afterthought, his mouth and nose pressed up against your neck as he breathes heavily against you. He’s intoxicated by it, your scent, the way he can feel your body responding, opening up for his fingers as he scissors them inside of you. “Say it again.”

“Your l-little pet…” you croak out in a moan as his fingers brush your g-spot again. Your legs start to shake and need claws at your insides, growing warm and tingly inside of you.

“God damn it, that’s fuckin’ right. Probably glad to be tied to this bed so I can come fuck you whenever I want, ain’t that right? Like the good little pet you are?” Joel says, his voice gruff as he degrades you, and it sends tears rolling down your cheeks as you nod with the tiny range of motion your head is given. Your pussy throbs, your insides alight and ready to burst at any minute. 

“I…” you choke out, moaning louder and louder. “Your pet…” you mumble out in a daze, hearing Joel grunt in response, grinding himself against you as his fingers work faster, his thumb giving your clit just what it needs 

“Be a good little girl and come for me now. Squeeze daddy’s fingers,” Joel whispers harshly in your ear before sloppily kissing the side of your face, lips tasting you as they move along your cheek to your neck. You feel so close, his words fueling the fire as you get there, just one more movement, one more flick of his fingers and you’ll -

“I- I’m coming! D-daaaaddy…” you whimper suddenly, shaking uncontrollably in his hold, your pussy pulsing and clenching as you sweat, reaching that glorious high. Your vision starts to speckle as you moan, sucking in breaths as they go higher and higher, until you can’t make any noise at all, choked by the pleasure and Joel’s hold on your collar. 

Joel praises you through it all, good girl, so pretty when you come, give it all to me, baby, but the fever pitch lasts for one sweet moment before you slump, just a doll in Joel’s arms now to play with as you catch your breath. 

Joel reaches between your bodies, hand shaking with anticipation, hardly able to even get his jeans unfastened in his state, rushing to pull his cock free as if any moment this could disappear from him, vanish like all the others in the confines of his memory. You’re half aware of the feel of his bare cock slapping against your ass, knowing that this is all far from over, that Joel won’t leave until he gets exactly what he came here for. 

“Fuck, pretty girl, let me fuck you like my little pet, then,” he says breathlessly, tucking his hips at the right angle before jamming through your thighs to your tight entrance, immediately slamming himself in. You scream, a pained yelp when you’re split open without warning, without the care and tenderness that Joel has given you before. Your eyes shoot open, hand trying to reach behind you to clutch at him, get his attention, but he slaps it away just as quickly as you’d moved it there. 

You can’t speak, can only gasp in a few breaths, your mouth opening and closing to greedily suck in air as you feel his hold on your leash tightening even more, angling your head to lean back onto his shoulder, no freedom left to move your neck or your entire body. Hot tears run down your face, your mouth tasting them as it’s opened in a perpetual oh now as he starts to move, leaving you squeaking out choked moans and shuddering breaths.

A cry breaks free from you when he pulls out, leaving you feeling empty just when you’d started to get used to the stretch and burn of his cock. His strong hands grip your fleshy hips, most of his hands on your ass as he rolls you flat on your stomach, keeping the leash held tightly in his hand. He’s back on you in a second, coming up behind you to straddle your legs and you feel his cock, still wet from you, slapping onto your ass. 

“Stay down,” he says harshly when you try to pop your hips up, then angle your head to peer back at him. His free hand presses into your back and you start to heave, the breath turning into a loud moan when you feel him breach you again, slamming in at full force. 

“Daddy…” you whimper quietly, the sound muffled by where your face presses into the towel Joel had laid out. The scratchy feel of it on your cheek reminds you of your current predicament and you start to panic a little, wondering if it’s okay to have him inside of you while you’re bleeding. Too late to be worrying about it now, though.

Joel slams in and out of your tight hole, seemingly harder each time, and you’re jostled against the mattress with each one, taking it all. He pulls out nearly completely with each one before pushing in as much of his length as he can on the thrust, and you realize you’ve been crying the entire time, the pain so delicate and balanced, nearly pleasurable with each time he re-enters you. It’s such a feeling of fullness, making your insides warm and bursting with pure heaven. You groan at the buildup of pleasure inside of you, your hips rocking against the towel while the material starts to catch on your swollen, sensitive clit. You’re crying so pretty for him, whimpers growing louder as he fucks you senseless, clearly built up over the last few days he was away.

“Look at you, takin’ it all so good, ain’t you. See? This is what you were meant for, blossom Look at this body takin’ all of me like the good girl you are,” Joel marvels while he looks between your bodies, watching his cock disappear over and over into your slick, dripping pussy. He tugs on the collar, forcing your neck up and back to arch and you cry out louder, fingers clutching at the sheets for dear life. 

This is so different from the other ways he’s been with you - he’s so rough, so careless today, and you thought this kind of thing might scare you, but you’re gushing for him as he does it, hearing the sloppy sounds telling you that you’ve gotten even more wet. 

“Yeah, baby…” Joel stutters out more raggedly, hips pounding and pounding so fast you can hardly keep up, your mind feeling like it’s unable to focus as his cock keeps splitting you open. “You’re so fuckin’ wet for me… you love bein’ a little pet for daddy.” He’s grinning like the devil above you, cheeks ruddy and forehead gleaming with sweat while he chases his high with more and more vigor.

You try to croak out a sound of affirmation, but a smack to your ass leaves you stunned, the noise dying off in your throat as you yelp instead. Joel’s hips snap into you carelessly now, sloppy thrusts until he stalls, groaning loudly, and your eyes flutter as you clench at his erotic sounds, feeling like you could finish just from hearing it, feeling that tiny power trip. His breathing is so loud as he groans again, and you realize he’s coming, that you feel him painting you from the inside, readying yourself to feel that slickness start dripping out of you any moment.

Joel drops everything - his hold on your ass, the leash, and rolls over next to you on the bed, his head facing away from you as he puffs out heavy breaths. Your neck feels a rush of relief as you can breathe without that tightness there, and your hands clutch at it gently to keep it off of your trachea. You watch Joel, see his cock going flaccid where it still hangs out of his jeans, all the rest of his clothing still on, and feel self conscious at how naked you are in comparison. It’s bloody, you realize, stained red, and you dare to roll over and peek down between your own legs, seeing the mess he’d made there too - his cum, your slick, your period, all dripping out, the towel stained underneath you. It makes you feel uneasy, for some reason, like you two shouldn’t have done that during this time of the month, but it had felt good… better, even, than it maybe had before.

“Mmm…” Joel finally murmurs, rolling towards you, slapping a hand onto your thigh a few times. “Good job, blossom, very good girl…” he mumbles before tucking himself back into his jeans and sitting up. Your mouth opens to speak, but he’s already halfway to the door, and you see him hang a left to go towards the bathroom before he shuts the door behind him. 

Watching him go, using you up and rushing out so quickly, you can’t help but cry again.

This feels like it's a punishment. For what, you don’t know. Maybe you hadn’t been good enough while he was gone, maybe he knows you snuck into that special room of his that smelled of fresh wood where you saw his humanity. Maybe you hadn’t performed well enough when he’d fucked you. You can’t think of a single rule you’d broken, but you felt that if you saw his face again any time soon you just might. 

Your mind starts to go numb. You don’t know how long you wait, maybe thirty minutes, maybe hours, but the next time Joel re-enters the room, he looks like a new man, refreshed. You’re angry with him, eyes narrowed as you watch him approach the bed, looking quite satisfied with himself. The lack of fairness he’s treated you with today has your blood boiling - the lack of answers, of telling you where he’ll be or when he’ll be back, it makes you feel… sad when it comes down to it.

“Alright, princess. Daddy wants to bring you downstairs for somethin’ to eat,” Joel says distractedly, acting as if nothing had happened, and it only makes you more angry. 

You grumble, not bothering to answer as you keep your eyes trained down at the sheets, focusing on the little wrinkles in the material from the way you’d been laying. Joel cocks his head, lifting a brow as he makes his way to your side of the bed, where you see him reach towards the headboard in your periphery, untying the leash. He tugs on it a little, urging you up, then tuts when his eyes fall between your legs, smeared and stained from when he was in here last.

“Didn’t even clean yourself up w’ the towel?” he asks, his tone a little biting. You don’t know why he would have any reason to be snippy and upset with you after how well behaved you’d been this afternoon, and it makes you feel even more indignant. 

“No. Why bother,” you snip back, clenching your teeth. “Thought you’d come back and do it again.”

Joel starts to smile to himself, a spiteful, devilish thing on his lips as he tugs the leash again, sending you jerking forward with a grunt.

“Yeah? That what you want? Me to use you like a little fuck toy again?” Joel picks up on your careless attitude right away, deciding to play with it, see how far he can push you. 

“Whatever you want, right?” you snip back harshly, baring your teeth but still unable to look him in the eye.

“Are you gettin’ a lil’ ornery in here, blossom? Grumpy with daddy?” Joel’s eyes light up a little, fingers tingling as his blood courses hot through him. He’s been itching for this, for a reason to give that perfect ass of yours a little lesson.

“Just… leave me alone…” you say with a little less gusto, feeling that sadness welling up in your heart again, that feeling of betrayal. Joel had promised to take care of you, and it felt like he’d been breaking that promise today. 

Joel stiffens, his fist clenching around the leash as he moves closer to the edge of the bed. “Oh, yeah? You want me to leave you up here for days? Shades closed, no sunlight, not even seein’ my face, let alone gettin’ any of this cock you love so much. That really what you want?”

You huff, feeling yourself shaking as you hold back tears. “I don’t care,” you reply stiffly, knowing it’s not the truth, that you’re desperate for him to treat you well, give you all the special treatment that you’ve had before. That sweet side of Joel that you know is in there, buried deep but able to be brought out by you, it seems.

“‘Cause I will do it, sweetheart. I don’t call bluffs, I don’t play around. I will. Fucking. Do. It.”

You bite down your whimper, starting to feel the fight kicking in within you, wanting to hurt him like he’s hurt you. But you don’t answer, can’t find it in you to truly fight back, say something meaningful and hurtful that you know will only hurt you, in the end.

“Fuck. You disobedient little thing…” Joel growls angrily, swinging his body so that he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, tugging harder than he has yet on the leash, forcing you to jolt towards him. He yanks you by the shoulders, dragging your body over his lap, belly down, ass upwards. Your heart starts to race, knowing what’s coming - punishment. A list of things explicitly spelled out by Joel that he could do to you if you misbehaved, if you deliberately broke the rules, and spanking was number one on the list. 

“Now…” Joel starts, squeezing one of your ass cheeks with his hand, jiggling it harshly. “Remember what we talked about? You don’t stop counting.”

Through a scratchy throat and bleary eyes you manage to get out a yes, daddy before he starts. The sting is harsh, more than you’d expected. This isn’t the kind of smack he’s done while you two were intimate, no, this is deliberate, meant to hurt.

“O-one…” you say, before Joel quickly brings his hand down over the same spot again, and you wince, feeling your eyes water.

“Two,” you choke out, your lip quivering. “I-it hurts…” you whine out as Joel has his hand in the air for the next comedown.

“This ain’t supposed to feel good, baby. It’s a punishment. ‘Sposed to remind you to be good,” he says, not letting you reply before his hand is back on you, spanking that same raw spot on your ass again. 

“T-t-three…” Your flesh burns, fire radiating off the spot, and you’re not sure how many more you can take. It makes you cry out a little louder, and you think you whisper a pathetic sorry under your breath.

“Four!” you nearly scream out when you feel the hardest one yet, the pain radiating across your backside and you can hardly breathe for a split second. You whimper louder and louder, hoping that it slows Joel down. 

“You sorry, baby? For disobeyin’ the rules? Bein’ a little brat to daddy?” Joel asks, his hand rubbing the raw skin, adding insult to injury.

“Y-yes, please, sir… I’m sorry…” you say, and while you don’t really have a choice if you want to save yourself pain, you truly are sorry. You wish that you’d have been honest with Joel, told him how hurt you felt, instead of whatever pouting you had ended up doing. Something about Joel makes you want to fall into that, though, making you feel as vulnerable as a child again. “I’m sorry,” you whimper once more for effect, fearful of where his hand is, if it’s readying itself to come down onto you again.

“Who do you belong to?” Joel asks harshly, his other hand tugging on the leash.

“Y-you…”

His fingers come down and gently touch your soft, round ass and you flinch. “And what am I?”

You whimper, lip quivering as you try to get the words out, fearful of another smack on your aching asscheek. “M-my master… my sir…”

Joel sneers, letting his grip on your body and the collar go a little more limp. “Oh, that was good, darlin’,” he chides condescendingly. “You sorry you tried to disobey me, disobey your master?”

“Y-yes, I really am, daddy…” you manage to get out before the tears fall.

“Okay, princess, that’s enough then,” Joel says, much softer now, his fingers starting to gently touch where he can see your skin rising already into a small welt, inflamed and angry at him. He lets you curl up as you start crying a little harder before helping you shift your body to lay back on the bed. He sits next to you, your face screwed up and eyes shut tightly as the pain washes over you, tears streaming sideways down your face. His hand reaches out, gentle strokes along the side of your head to calm you.

“It’s okay, baby… you’re okay…” Joel soothes you, his other free hand stroking your arm. “You did a good job, honey, took your punishment like a good girl.”

You just nod, sniffling. “I’m sorry, daddy. Y-you just hurt my feelings really bad. I wanted… I wanted… to hurt you back.”

Joel’s lips press together, a sympathetic line as he nods. “I know, baby. Daddy wanted you to be safe, but you were confused, weren’t you?”

You just nod, using the back of your hand to wipe at your nose.

“It was a lot, huh? Daddy needed to keep you safe, and it made me feel real good knowing you were in here. You’re jus’... gonna have to be okay with me needin’ that when I come back from a long trip.”

Your stomach sinks, thinking of having to relive this again. You don’t mind the leash, really, or the fact that he wants to have you ready and waiting for whenever his cock gets hard, but it’s the loneliness that gets to you. You’ve been lonely your entire life, mostly, never feeling like you could fit in or be good enough for the life presented to you. You’d just wanted Joel to care, to show you that you didn’t have to be lonely if he could help it, but then he stuck you in this room like an afterthought. 

“O-okay, daddy,” you say, instead deciding to resign yourself to his whims again. “C-can you… can I ask…?” you stutter out, glancing up at him finally to see his dark brown eyes worrying for you.

“Go ‘head,” he says softly, fingers dancing along the side of your face.

“C-can you not leave me alone for too long, though?” you squeak out, and Joel’s lips pull into a small smile, his heart squeezing at the fact you’d missed him that much.

“I can try,” he replies, smile growing with sick satisfaction.

“Thank you,” you practically whisper, and Joel’s arms wrap around you, pulling you into him. 

“C’mon, give daddy some love,” he says, and you slip your arms around him, just content to lay in his hold, let him comfort you and take away the pain. “Can we go get you cleaned up now, get you fed?” he asks with his fingers tightly pressed against your back.

“Yes, sir.”

Joel makes you lunch, working on a pan fried chicken breast to split, trying to make his Jackson haul last, and you marvel at the smell coming from the kitchen as you sit at the kitchen table and watch him in action. Joel tells you and shows you all of the things he’s brought back from Jackson while you two wait for the food to cook. Fresh eggs, meat, bread, new seeds for the garden now that spring is on your doorstep - you’re going to have zucchini this year, he tells you with an innocent excitement in his voice that you don’t hear often. And workin’ on hopefully a chicken of our own someday for these eggs, he adds on with just as much enthusiasm. 

You’d thought the nail polish was the only extra gift, but he holds up a new dress for you with a small smile, the fabric a little faded but the soft floral pattern still coming through. Joel tells you he couldn’t have walked away without it, imagining how perfect it would look on you. It makes you smile, starting to feel a little better as you hold the fabric, looking at it while Joel goes back to the stove. Things are moving back to normal - Joel is doting on you and you’re sitting quietly in admiration, just the way he likes it.

“Gonna be nice ‘n full after this, princess,” Joel throws over his shoulder, giving the vegetables in his second pan a stir. A few moments later he plates and presents it to you as usual, bringing over a steaming cup of tea, something you hadn’t asked for. It smells strange, your nose scrunching a little as you peer down at it with concern. 

“Drink up, sweetheart,” Joel urges upon seeing your hesitation, and you take a sip, smacking your lips at the odd combination of flavors. 

“What is it?” you ask curiously, staring down at the light brown liquid.

“Daddy wants you to drink this every day, okay? It’ll be good for your health.”

“But…” you hesitate, the inside of your lip starting to get worn down with the way you’ve been worrying at it since you got here. “I’ll try, daddy,” you acquiesce, taking another sip. It’s not terrible, you’ve just never tasted a tea like this in your life - it almost tastes medicinal, bitter.

“That’s my girl,” Joel says, his face softening as he catches you stopping yourself from questioning him. “You know what daddy says, goes, now, don’t you?” He reaches over and ruffles your hair as you nod obediently. The way your ass cheek stings at it presses against the hard wood of the chair is confirmation enough to you that yes, what he says goes. 

You can’t help but feel a bit hesitant, not understanding the sudden push for this new addition to your diet, but you need to think, to find a way around the rules, to ask him about it without seeming too disobedient. You want to be curious still, not shoved in a box just because you’re worried about Joel’s rules and getting another spanking.

“Now, eat up,” Joel urges, and you don’t fight him on it, digging into your meal as your stomach rumbles. Once you’d come downstairs, the scents had sent your stomach practically cramping with hunger. You hadn’t had anything since your relatively early dinner last night and this morning breakfast was the last thing on your mind with how worked up you’d been feeling.

Joel chews, seeming pleasantly lost in thought as he keeps glancing your way, checking in on how well you’re eating. “Least I didn’t knock y’up yet, considering…” he says suddenly, casually waving his hand downwards towards your thighs.

“Knock… me up?” you ask, tilting your head as your fork hovers above your plate. 

Joel licks his lips. “Pregnant,” he says quickly, seeming to have to remind himself that a good amount of slang is going to be lost on you. “You ain’t pregnant yet. ‘Cause of all that, your period ‘n everythin’,” he explains further and your brows twitch a little, still uncomfortable with just how comfortable he is with all of it after being told the polar opposite for so long. Joel had cleaned you up, figured out some things you could use as pads, considering he had none - something he silently cursed himself for not thinking of while he was in Jackson, but there was always the next trip. He’d even helped you set up a system to keep things clean - a rotation of cloths you could wash and use regularly for this kind of thing, if it made you more comfortable to take care of it in private. And it did, although you appreciated Joel’s strangely caring effort towards the entire thing. 

“P-pregnant, right…” you murmur, scratching your chin absentmindedly as your gears turn. You feel warm, embarrassed by the topic of conversation, realizing all what it could be implying for the two of you. You muster up the courage to look up when you find Joel’s eyes already ready to meet yours, a little smirk on his face. 

“If you got your period, you ain’t pregnant,” he says simply, assuming that you likely barely knew anything about how your own body worked. A fact that pisses him off more than he can explain, but at the least, it gives him a chance to be the one to feed you the information, be someone to rely on and guide you. A thought that made his cock half hard as he reflects on just how innocent you really are. And he can keep you this way, if he wants, feed you just enough to feel some semblance of maturity and control, but still shielded enough from that world that you’ll keep that spark, that purity about you. 

“I know that,” you say, a little snippy. “I’m not completely… clueless…” you add on, defending yourself. At the least you had been taught that once you got married, if you were having your monthlies, you weren’t having your husband’s child yet. Your fork scrapes your plate while you get lost in thought and you remember to take a bite to appease Joel, who has been watching you eat your vegetables with more scrutiny than seems necessary. 

“D-do you want… that?” you ask into the silence, eyes averted quickly downward, heat flooding your face. You knew that husbands were more than keen to make sure their wives were pregnant, you’d also been told that much - men expect to produce, to further their bloodline. 

Joel looks at you with that look of intrigue he loves to throw your way. “Do you want that?” he throws back at you, teasing with his tone. 

You hadn’t expected him to ask you, to even potentially weigh your opinion on it with his. The truth was, you’d resigned yourself to having children years ago, knowing that unless you were unable to get pregnant, it wasn’t a choice that you would get. Decided practically from your birth, you were there as a vessel to please, to reproduce, to serve. 

“I- uh, I - “ you stutter, blinking down at your half eaten plate of food. “I never had a choice, so…”

“So… what, then?” 

You think Joel might be goading you, but you want to be honest with him, especially knowing now all of the hard truths he’d shared with you about the cult. You feel a little choked up just thinking about it, remembering the constricted feeling of their lives, the way what you’re about to say to him was your everyday truth. “I never had the option before. I always knew I was gonna have kids, that I was supposed to. So I don’t know… jus’ sort of got used to it.”

Joel sits with your words for a few quiet beats, having expected as much based on what he knew about where you’d been raised. “Well, sweet girl, I bet you’d make a great mother.” He pauses, licking his lips before chewing another bite. “An’ you will.”

Your face falls a little, realizing despite his question, you still never stood a chance, never had the choice. You don’t know why Joel even bothered to ask if he was just going to decide for you the next moment. It was cruel. You can see him, feel him reading your expression for anything to disapprove of before his eyes dip to your plate, a silent signal to not make him have to ask to finish your food. You use the opportunity to look downwards at your plate to hide your upset expression and clear your throat quietly. 

“Oh,” you say softly, trying to think of how to respond. “You mean with - with you, right?”

“Sweetest thing…” Joel tries to hold back his smile, unable to believe just how sweet you are sometimes, how clueless. “Of course, blossom, it’s me ‘n you here for, well,” He breathes out a little chuckle, devious grin spreading, “Ever, darlin’. Did you not understand that before?”

Your stomach sinks further, the meal you’d nearly finished now quickly turning sour. It’s not that you didn’t understand it, but you hadn’t quite gotten the chance to face it yet, to process that it was going to really be as long as Joel demanded it be. Maybe time would change things, you wonder silently. Maybe someday you’d be… truly free. Whatever that might mean for you. 

“N-no, daddy, of course I did. I know you’re keeping me safe forever,” you say with a sweet lilt, hoping it doesn’t sound too forced. You’re just disappointed at the way reality is crushing in on you right now, trying to hide it as best you can. 

“Thas’ right, pretty girl. So yes, baby, me n’ you and all our babies. Jus’ not yet…” he says, pushing the cup of tea he’d made a little closer to you. “Want you all to myself for a while longer. So drink up.” 

Your eyes widen, bringing the cup to your lips and drinking, your mind spinning. What was in here? What the hell were you drinking?

“Go on, ask me,” Joel says, sitting back in his chair, his now empty plate moved a few inches away from him. 

“This will…” you start, glancing down at the mug you still grip with both hands, the warmth almost too much on your palms with how uncomfortable you’re feeling. “Make me… not pregnant?”

“Close. Jus’ helps things along. Best chance we got right now, since we don’t have all the fun stuff we used to in the old days.” Joel decided he’d be damned if he couldn’t come inside of what belonged to him, mark you deeply in every way possible every single time he pleased. Asking around Jackson had been a cinch, a naturopath there guiding him to the right herbs they had on hand and natural remedies that weren't necessarily a guarantee, but could give you a chance at avoiding pregnancy. It wasn’t like there were many other options with birth control and a steady, consistent supply of condoms off the table. Joel recognized the futility of it, knowing he should just fucking pull out, you idiot, but anyone who would say that to him hadn’t felt the sweet embrace of you wrapped around his cock before.

“Okay, then,” you say, unable to think of much else to contribute. It’s not like you had any idea what people used to do to avoid pregnancy, or that it was even something people wanted, having grown up around women with constantly swollen bellies, babies and children always seeming to crop up in the community, every couple churning out kids for the good of the group.

“So drink up, babygirl. Finish that or you don’t leave the table.” Joel’s command sticks to your skin, a tingle of fear washing over your delicate skin as you start to down the bitter liquid, trying not to scrunch your nose up too much at it. 

“Good girl, all you needed was a little encouragement from daddy, huh?” he coos at you as you finish drinking every last drop, standing up to lean over and kiss the top of your head before starting to clear the table. 

You smile at him, a genuine thing as a spark of happiness lights up warm and achy inside of you at his praise, and you suppose that it was all you needed. 

You fall into a routine with Joel now that he’s back home and settled in, the punishment in the bedroom put behind the two of you. You find yourself wanting to be on your best behavior, have him look at you with that lightness in his eyes, like you’re everything good in his world, and hear him praise you for it. Not even because you want to avoid that pain again, but because you like the feeling of being good, letting Joel take the weight off your mind with a set way to behave that you know will make the both of you happy. The more you practice, the more relaxed you feel around him. It all starts to feel rather natural, really. 

He brings you your special tea every morning, whether it’s in bed as he gently shakes you awake or downstairs in the kitchen if you’re up early enough. Joel doesn’t mind you sleeping in though - he’s not disciplined like that. He likes to rise early himself, but he likes the thought of you being well rested and healthy. He only tries to make sure he’s always there when you open your eyes for the day, making sure he’s the first thing you see in the morning and the last in the evening. 

You start to notice things about Joel as the days go by. He likes hard work, but likes it even more when you’re around to watch it. He knows your eyes drift when he chops wood, intrigued to watch his strength move, ogle his muscles and the way he grunts and sweats, showing off for you. He’s usually able to make quick work of you afterwards, fingers jammed inside of you and making you come faster than most other times, sometimes right there on the little stump you’ve made into your seat outside as you watch him. Joel loves to hear the echoes of your moans bounce around in the open space, traveling through the trees, nobody else to hear them for miles but the two of you. 

He likes to cook, do laundry, work on keeping his guns clean and repaired, and keep the cabin tidy, always telling you he feels hard work like that is rewarded when he can just relax at the end of the day feeling like he earned it. When you ask what about you, that you don’t feel like you work very hard, he only laughs. Hard work lookin’ that pretty and bein’ daddy’s perfect little pet all the time. The answer satisfies you, makes your cheeks warm in happiness that he thinks you’re pretty enough that it’s considered a full day's work. You giggle about it to yourself that night as you fall asleep, catching yourself wondering when it had gotten this easy to feel comfortable around Joel.

But by far your favorite routine with Joel is the evenings, when your bellies are full and Joel calls you over to read with him. The first night he’d picked up a book and told you he wanted to read together, you’d been elated. You had eyed the bookshelves in the house but never delved into them, still finding your footing in what you were and weren’t allowed to do with your time, or where you were allowed to poke your nose. You’d gone to sit on the couch to listen while Joel read, but he just shook his head with that wry smile pulling up on the right side of his mouth. 

“No no, baby, right here,” he’d said, glancing down at the floor in front of where he sat on his soft, puffy chair next to the fireplace. You’d cast your eyes down, starting to walk over towards him. Joel’s head tilted as he watched your subservient little walk and he shook it again. “Crawl, please, blossom,” he’d punched out before you could take another step. 

You’d sunk to your hands and knees and crawled like it was second nature, the burn of his eyes on you making your tummy feel that strange but all too familiar tingling again at the look of pride in Joel’s eyes. The moment you’d reached him, his big, calloused hand was already out, ready to pet your head softly. Good girl, so pretty when you crawl to daddy, he’d whispered before opening the book in his lap.

It quickly became just as much part of the routine, you crawling to him from wherever you were in the room every time he sat down with his latest novel and a small glass of scotch that he had every so often as he read. Helps end the day right he’d said when you asked him about it, curious at the strange brown drink that smelled funny on his breath later that night as he kissed you. Unsurprisingly to Joel, alcohol was a huge resounding no for all of your life, but he held back from giving you any just yet. Daddy’s special drink. It nearly made your eyes roll, but he’d looked so handsome when he’d leaned forward and said it, swirling the drink inside the glass that you could only smile up at him from where you kneeled. 

Tonight, you’re working your way through more of White Fang, and it’s not been holding your attention very well, but you like listening to Joel’s voice as he reads it to you, getting comfortable on the pillow underneath your knees. Joel brings your head down to his lap with a guiding hand, the side of your face resting on his warm thigh clad in a pair of plaid pajama pants. The material is soft, the expanse of his thigh the perfect place to rest your cheek while his hand traces loving strokes and patterns all along your cheeks and head. You feel your eyes blinking slower and slower, a common occurrence with this specific book, and Joel’s thigh shitly slightly underneath you jolts you awake. You tap his thigh a few times with your index finger, barely a flutter, just the way Joel had instructed if you wanted to get his attention while he was focused on the page. 

Joel peers at you over the book, one brow going up when he looks down at you, cheek pressed to his thigh, pretty eyes so heavy and mild. He goes soft, cracking a small smile and giving your head a pat. 

“Yes, blossom?” he asks, the words you’d been waiting to hear. Wait until I address you, then you speak.

“Daddy, this one is boring…” you say, your voice whinier than you’d intended but you feel so passionately bored by this novel tonight that even Joel’s charming twang is not enough to stop the words from grating on you.

Joel’s face falls a little, a fake wounded expression covering his features. “Darlin’... this is a classic. We’re tryna get you well read, ain’t we?”

“Well, yes…” you start, twisting your lips, recalling how Joel had been on a mission to fill in some gaps in your education. “But can we just try something else for a little bit? Please please? I don’t wanna fall asleep yet, it’s so early...” you complain, peering past Joel to the window, where a sliver of deep orange still sits in the sky, the sun not even fully set yet.

Joel sighs, unable to resist the way your mouth pouts so convincingly without even trying. Those same lips making him more sentimental by the day, he silently curses himself. Another long sigh falls from his lips as he battles it out with you, silently staring into your pleading eyes. “Yes, okay, okay, for tonight,” he acquiesces, “Only tonight.”

You sit up straight with a new fire in your blood, a bright smile on your face as you clap your hands together a few times. “Yay! Really, daddy?” you ask, so innocent and truly thrilled about this small victory that it makes Joel’s heart do a quick squeeze as he watches you from above.

“Yes really, now you go pick somethin’ ‘fore I change my mind,” Joel snips at you playfully, chuckling as he watches you stand up and bound over to the bookshelves that line the wall near the staircase. Your sheer white gown flows as you move, Joel’s eyes catching on the way he can see your curves through it, the lines of your light pink panties hugging your ass just visible in the low light of the room, the small lamp behind Joel’s chair and the fireplace giving the room a warm, cozy glow. He smirks at the little show he gets as you browse, bending over, crouching, and pondering while you scan the spines of the books, looking for anything that sticks out.

“Oh, this? I like the cover,” you call out, tugging a book out and brushing your fingers along the cover - it’s cloth bound, a bit dusty but Joel can still see the delicate flower pattern gracing the front. “W-wuthering Heights?” you ask, turning to look at him and holding it up. “Maybe this one…” you say, tucking it into your arm for safekeeping while you continue your search.

“No no, we are not doin’ that. Don’t got all night,” Joel calls over to you impatiently. “Next book you pick better be the one.”

The shelves are mostly filled from whoever owned this place pre-outbreak, such a stark difference in genres leading Joel to believe it was at least two different people. Joel had included a few of his own finds and personal favorites over the years he lived here, but it had hardly made a dent in making the collection feel more like his own. Among the dozens of books many of the strong standing classics lined the shelves, but a myriad of mystery books (Joel’s guilty pleasure), self help, and an entire shelf of those corny romance novels were also left behind by the previous tenants. 

As soon as your finger hovered over that particular shelf, scanning the titles he knew your eyes had to be wide, reading the spines at a slower pace. He caught your body tensing a little, more careful as you pluck one and stare at the cover. A windswept woman in a tight corset, her bosom heaving while she swoons into a man’s bare chest stares back at you and you blink a few times.

“The… Forbidden Lady?” you say quietly, nearly mesmerized by the erotic depiction on the cover, the picture alone making a dull tingling start in your core. “This one!” you suddenly call out with more gusto, putting Wuthering Heights back in its spot and clutching the new choice close to your chest.

Joel swipes his hand down his forehead before pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s… trashy romance, darlin’. We… don’t need to be readin’ that. It’s er, no good.” Joel had one of the dirtiest mouths he’d ever heard, especially compared to his past lovers, but even he felt a little apprehensive about the things he’d have to read aloud, not to mention he’d always heard of that type of book having a less than favorable reputation as real, readable literature.

“It looks good, though! Doesn’t it?” you ask excitedly, turning the cover to face him as you step closer, jamming your pointer finger onto the couple a few times for effect. “You said… you said I could pick!” You nearly start to bounce on the balls of your feet, your energy seeming to come right back to you after your dozing state not even minutes ago. 

“Darlin’ I-” Joel starts, grimacing, but you press on.

“Just a little. Please! Just… look through it and see if we’d like it,” you beg, shoving the book in his direction. Joel takes it tentatively, his expression less than thrilled but he starts to inspect the cover, scoffing to himself. 

“Don’t go thinkin’ you run the place now, sweetheart, just ‘cause daddy reads your pick, okay?” he chides, looking over at you. 

You nod eagerly, your eyes glued on the book, where Joel has his fingers wedged in, refusing to open it until you respond. 

“Yes, yes daddy of course. You do, I know.” You bounce a little impatiently. “I just really want to know what this is like… reading something romantic,” you say, biting your lip and stilling yourself, tucking your hands behind your back as your cheeks go a bit warm at the admission. You can’t help but feel antsy, wanting to know what Joel is seeing as he flips through the pages with no rhyme or reason. His eyes widen, face lighting up and then screwing up before he chuckles. 

“Are you sure you can handle this? You know what kind of stuff is in these books?”

You certainly think you might have a few guesses judging by the cover. You’d never really seen, let alone read books like The Forbidden Lady, but just the idea of romance had always tugged at your heart, wishing so deeply to feel anything like that with someone. “Well, yes, I mean… no. Romance? And couples and stuff, right? And…” you feel your face go even warmer as you try to push out the next word. “Sex?”

“You want there to be?” Joel asks, leaning forward and peering up at where you stand through his lashes. “You’re a dirtier girl than you’d let on, blossom, y’know that?”

Your cheeks are burning burning burning, skin hot all over at his accusation. He’s not wrong, you suppose - you’re a far cry from the values you’d been raised with these days, but truly you’re only curious. The thought of reading about another relationship, all their intimate moments, everything just mass produced and on the shelves for people to buy pulls you in, wondering what it’s like. You want to hear what other people, even if they’re only fictional characters, do in a relationship, how they behave. 

“N-no! I’m not. I just want to… hear about someone else. I only know the stuff we do…” you admit shyly, tucking your hands behind your back, one hand grabbing on to the wrist of your other arm, your body swinging a little with nerves. 

Joel looks amused, laughing with his chest shaking a bit. “There’s a lot more we ain’t done yet, babygirl, if that’s what you want. I can show you…” Joel lunges forward, a hand swiftly wrapping around your body to land on your ass cheek, trying to pull you close. His move takes you by surprise and you stumble forward, giggling as he squeezes your round asscheek and pulls you again, making you nearly fall into his lap. 

“No, no! I -“ you try to speak, laughing when Joel tugs you between his legs, both hands now firmly planted on each ass cheek. He gives a look of warning, as if to say ‘choose your next words carefully, sweetheart’.  “I do want to! I just really want to read it first, please daddy. Don’t you think it’ll be fun? More than that other boring old book,” you tell him, trying to make your eyes pleading and soft for him, practically about to beg. This will be the most interesting entertainment you’ve gotten in weeks, aside from the entire whirlwind that is Joel. 

“Already said I would, but I like you beggin’ me anyway,” Joel replies, smirking with a quick wink. “Alright, down then, blossom, back on your knees for daddy.”

You slink down, putting your hands on both of his thighs and you disappear between his legs, situating the pillow under your knees. 

“All the way,” he urges, and you start to lay your head on his thigh, always preferring the left one, laying your right cheek on it and blinking up at him. 

“Very good,” he says distractedly as he opens the book back up, doing a quick scan of a few sections before you see his eyes darken. They flick to you over the novel and then back to the page, and his smile grows. 

“This’ll do,” he announces before clears his throat a little. His fingers curl onto your crown, starting his soothing ministrations that make you want to start purring like the tamed little kitten you’ve become. You fight the tiny sound of pleasure that pulls at the back of your throat, trying to focus on Joel and the book you’d been so excited to hear him read.

“‘My - my lady,’ Mr. Buxton gasps out in earnest, looking down at the fair maiden in front of him -‘“ Joel starts, and you fight your own gasp as the excitement builds. Joel sounds less than enthusiastic so far, but you don’t care, you’re already eating it up, ready to be transported into another world.

Her bosom heaves out of the top of her silken purple corset, so ripe and ready for the taking. Mr. Buxton tears his eyes away at the shame of it all. “We - you should not. We cannot,” he says decidedly. 

Lady Georgina’s desperation only grows like flowers after a good Spring’s rain - bursting forth brilliantly. Her hands go to Mr. Buxton’s waist, a daring move, she knows. He wants this just as bad, she begins to understand by the way his eyes glance downwards at where her delicate hands sit. It’s unspoken, yet burning at her deep inside, a need she’s not known before. Certainly not with her betrothed, the insufferable Mr. Wickly.

“Mr. Buxton… my… Henry…” the Lady says in reply, a plea to Mr. Buxton to address him so informally. 

Your eyes are wide and unblinking as Joel reads, a breath caught in your throat that you don’t even realize you’re holding. Your thighs squeeze together, anticipation heating between them as you realize what the scene is setting up for, all the tension between the characters so thick and palpable.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel sighs quietly, interrupting the flow. Your hand grasps onto his shin from where you kneel before him, a silent urging for him to continue reading.

“Please…” you whisper back as he looks at you, eyes desperate and glimmering, beyond ready to hear what happens next to Lady Georgina. You see him fight a roll of his eyes, hating the way your sweet face makes him soft, willing to do what you want, when it should be the other way around.

The couple is so close to her bed, the private sanctuary of her chambers never so glady infiltrated as it is now with the man she truly loves, the one she feels bound to forever against all logic. How can one marry a man she does not love when passion burning in such a way exists in one Mr. Buxton?

Lips suddenly clash in this losing battle of love, the pair unable to hold it, hide it any longer. Mr. Buxton is mesmerized by his Lady’s plush lips tentatively pushing into his before the kiss deepens, her hands tightening around his waist. 

“Henry,” Lady Georgina mewls to her love, her eyes sparkling with the head spinning kiss they’d shared. 

Joel leans forward, reaching for the hand of yours that’s been gently toying with your chin and bottom lip as your mouth sits parted in pure wonder at what you’re hearing. He drags your hand by the wrist to the top of his thigh, starting to force your hand to rub over his crotch. He hardly misses a beat of the story as he reads on, Lady Georgina suddenly working on undoing Mr. Buxton’s trousers, and you gasp. Joel cracks the tiniest smile that comes through in his voice as he reads. 

Buxton’s quivering member is a sight to behold, Georgina’s eyes hardly able to shy away from it despite knowing she should, that a Lady should not stare. But she can not tear her eyes away, her gaze steady upon him, the way he wants for only her while she begins to  drop herself down to her knees in front of him. 

You feel your entire body tense up, thighs wriggling slightly on the pillow beneath you as your legs clench tighter. You’re mesmerized at the thought that Lady Georgina - even a Lady, someone this important - is on her knees for the man she cares for. It makes your heart flutter thinking that you two are the same in that way. The fluttering starts to turn to a heavy thudding in your chest as Joel continues on, describing Lady Georgina grabbing at Mr. Buxton’s cock with her hands, just as you’ve done before, too, you think with a warm face and awestruck eyes. 

Your hand moves absentmindedly along Joel’s bulging crotch as he’d silently instructed you to do, and he’s even wavering or batting an eye at the sensation, simply enjoying the slow buildup of it all. Joel is simply smirking wider with every word he reads, ready to see your reaction to what he knows is coming. 

Her mouth hovers closer, Mr. Buxton’s manhood a salty taste as her tongue envelops him -

Your hand that isn’t stroking him starts to tap at his leg rapidly, vying for his attention. Your eyes dart around his face and then down to the cover of the book and back up, your mouth hanging open as you try to understand. 

“Daddy… ?” you interrupt him, knowing it's wrong, against his rules, but you’re desperate to understand. “Wh-“ you try to stutter out, only to have Joel ignore you for the moment. 

Her warm mouth takes him in, the pleasure overwhelming the both of them as Mr. Buxton gasps out his Lady’s name in ecstasy -

“Sir?” You tap again, repeated little flits of your fingers against his solid thigh. Joel’s smirk turns a little sinister as he continues reading, Lady Georgina’s head starting to bob rapidly on Mr. Buxton’s ‘member’, and that’s when you call out again, making Joel stop. 

“Somethin’ the matter, sweetheart?” he asks with an innocent tilt of his head, knowing damn well exactly what you want. Joel has been holding on to a little secret, one he hadn’t quite figured out the right timing for revealing yet. He’d dreamt repeatedly of your perfect lips wrapped around his thick cock for weeks now, practically since the moment he’d met you. But it was a… delicate situation, he knew, that doing what he wanted to do to your sweet little face and mouth may have scared the hell out of you if he’d pushed it too early. He typically wasn’t too worried about scaring you, but it was just that he’d wanted this to be… perfect. The moment he was dreaming of. What he’d waited all this time for - his perfect girl gagged by his cock, her face open and ready for him to fuck it, choking all over him and watching her love it. By your recent good behavior, the way you moan and quiver every time he touches you now with no resistance anymore, he had a feeling you would in fact, love it. 

The opportunity that fell into his lap - hopefully quite literally - tonight had been too good to pass up. He figured you’d be expecting the characters to kiss or even fuck, concepts he knew you’d become much more acquainted with thanks to him. But to surprise you with this, get you all worked up and curious, was absolutely priceless. And just happened to make his cock painfully hard.

“What, baby?” he asks, a rush of amusement filling him at your scrunched up brows, your mouth hanging open just the tiniest bit while you sit up ramrod straight on your knees now. 

“Daddy they’re…? Is she putting her mouth down there?” you ask with urgency, flitting your eyes to where your now stilled hand rests on top of his aching cock. You’d had to get used to the idea of Joel’s lips in your most intimate areas, but the thought of that? Your mind boggled at it. Joel was so large, so wide, that you’d never even thought of him being in your mouth, now wondering if there could even be room in there. You thought maybe the way he enjoyed lapping and sucking at your cunt was special, that maybe people didn’t always do that - you’d certainly never heard of any kind of fornicating like that. Although you supposed you hadn’t heard much at all besides hushed whispers until Joel. 

He gives you a curt nod. “Mhm, she is, baby. What, you didn’t know about suckin’ cock?” he asks like it would have been an everyday occurrence for you, leaning forward in the chair with a coy smirk. 

Your brows pinch. “‘Course not, you know that,” you snip a little more harshly than you’d intended at his pointed jesting. You hate this constant feeling of embarrassment even though Joel has given you no reason to feel that way. In fact, he’s always supportive, he’s talked you through everything, almost seeming excited by how little you’d known. He’d even told you as much, but you still can’t shake the frustration that you feel so far behind him.

Joel bristles a little at your tone. “Watch your mouth, little one, or this won’t be as fun for you as it could be,” he says, tone now lower and giving some of that bite that settles fear deep in your stomach.

“W-what… won’t be…” you ask after swallowing hard, folding your hands in your lap, trying to look the picture of subservience for him.

Joel gives you a conceited grin, closing the book and setting it aside. “Think you know damn well what,” he replies, leaning forward a little more, his rough hand grazing your blazing cheeks. You’re shrinking under the intensity of his stare, now, barely able to keep your eyes on his. “Gonna get this pretty mouth on my cock tonight, aren’t we?” Joel’s finger’s slip down to your mouth, toying with your bottom lip. “Open up,” he demands, pressing his index finger to the center of your lip.

You crack your lips open the slightest bit only to feel Joel’s finger slip inside, the tiniest huff escaping him as he feels how wet and silky your tongue is as it laps at his finger. “Close. And suck,” he commands next, and you do, wrapping your lips around it, trying to suck a little bit. 

“Good girl, look at this mouth,” Joel coos, using his free hand to start undoing the tie on his pajama bottoms, tugging the waistband down slightly, revealing the curls of hair that travel downward. You feel nerves pool in your belly, your entire body on fire at how erotic it feels to have his finger slipping in and out of your mouth, how wet and warm everything is. “Know you’re curious, sugar, my curious little girl never had a cock in her mouth, did she?”

You shake your head, a quiet mm-mm around his finger as he shoves a second one in, pushing them further back down your throat. With his other hand he finishes tugging his pajama pants down, his hard cock slapping out, the hard length of it so imposing, especially from this angle. It makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, goosebumps cropping up along your flesh. You’re simultaneously hot and cold with nerves, not understanding how any of this could possibly work.  

“No, she hasn’t,” he says, a sorrowful, condescending tone to it. “But she’s gonna be a good girl for daddy and take it down her throat, ain’t she?”

You stutter around his fingers, your heart hammering hard against your rib cage. Joel’s brow quirks at your lack of enthusiastic nodding to his question, what he had come to expect with how well trained you had become these days. 

He shoves his two fingers in a little further, sliding them in and out, just short of making you gag, and he smiles when he sees your eyes tear up. “Don’t think you should be nodding right now? Sayin’ ‘yes, daddy’ while drool falls out ‘f your mouth? Hm?” His fingers slip out with a wet pop and he smears your lips with saliva. Despite the words, the rough, degrading treatment, his eyes shine for you. They’re so caring, that dark, dark brown looking back at your terrified expression. 

“Will I like it?” you ask as you look up at Joel through your lashes, your voice a strained whisper. Joel cups your cheek in his hand, gentle fingers attempting to sooth you. 

“I really think you’ll like it a lot, sweetheart,” Joel says honestly, already picturing the entire scene so vividly in his head. Whether you like it or not, or even notice it, you get off on being submissive to him, and with the plans he has for you… he nearly shudders at the soon to come image of you choked and fucked out on his cock. 

You nod, a tiny act of submission, agreement. Your hand on his thigh slides up slightly, just grazing the underside of his cock and Joel inhales a sharp breath. The tip leaks a bead of precum, begging for your mouth to be on it. “Daddy… I don’t know if it will… it’s big…” you sputter out finally, fearing any consequences for even trying to question him, especially on a topic he knows much more about than you do. 

Joel isn’t deterred in the slightest though, his lips turning up at your sweet demeanor, your futile concerns that he already knows will be irrelevant in just a few mere seconds. 

“Oh, darlin’…” he tuts softly, fingers curling underneath your chin, tipping it upwards. “We’ll make it fit.”

smother - part ix: fracture

dark!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: the new season rolling in brings changes, both in the beautiful landscape surrounding your home with joel and in both of your hearts. when did life with the man who holds you here become quite so sweet to stomach? 12.7k words chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI! dubcon - stockholm syndrome, general coercion, innocent reader, big juicy age gap (reader is 19, joel is 55), ddlg/daddy dom! joel, sub!reader, reader wears a collar and leash, oral (m receiving), cockwarming (kinda brief but still there), fingering, unprotected piv, creampie(s), somnophilia, corruption kink, reader straddles joel, joel manhandles reader, so so many pet names for reader, dirty talk, food consumption, brief description of reader's clothing, reader has hair, if these darker tags aren't your cup of tea please keep scrolling! a/n: this is kind of an insane amount of smut but joel is just a creepy horndog and i take no responsibility for his actions OKAY. also ik this is sort of... choppy? but i needed to find a way to continue passing time and yeah IDK I'M INSECURE ANYWAY thank you @janaispunk my luv for checking this shit out for me beforehand 💕

reminder i have no taglist, follow @beardedjoel-updates to hear about my new fics!

That’s it, blossom, there ya go, jus’ like that…

Joel praises you while he instructs you to hold your mouth open, making you show your tongue, stretched out and waiting for him as his hands palm the large tent in his sweatpants. Pure adoration sparkles in his eyes at your dutiful, quick obedience to his instructions. 

“Now thas’ what you’re gonna do once daddy’s ready f’you. Got it?” he asks. 

“Mhm,” you murmur, the noise coming out odd with the way your mouth still hangs wide open, tongue stuck out, making you smile.

Joel smiles softly in return, chuckling. His head tilts as he reaches down to cup your cheek. “Y’can close it f’now sugar,” he instructs, and you snap your mouth shut with more vigor than you’d meant to, teeth biting together. 

He’s being so gentle, a respite from the roughness he’s been doling out on you lately. Joel likes to fuck you hard, oftentimes bruising you with his hold, leaving fresh marks anywhere he thinks of on your body, and making your cunt ache afterwards from the way his hips rapidly slam into yours. You can’t say you mind, that you would complain about it - he hits something so deep inside of you when he does it, so unrelenting that it often leaves your world shattered until you can get your head back on straight again. Sometimes it’s minutes, sometimes it’s the rest of the night depending on how intense things get, but you love learning about your own limits, finding that whatever Joel doles out you’ve been able to take so far. He’s so good at taking care of you when he’s rough, too, just like he always promised he would. Holding you, making sure you drink water, soft, loving strokes along your skin. You feel cared for, you feel comfortable with that routine now. 

But this is so different, so new and scary, and you try to hide the way your hands shake a little as they sit at your sides. Joel can read you anyways though, despite how well you try to hide it. You always have that same scrunched up look on your face whenever something worries you, and tonight is no different. So he takes it easy on you even if the only thing he wants is to watch you gag and choke as he shoves himself into your mouth without warning. The thought alone makes his cock twitch, but he brings himself back to your sweet, innocent face with wide, scared eyes and reminds himself: patience. 

All good deeds go rewarded, or something like that. 

Joel’s hands lazily move up his bulge to the waistband of his sweatpants, but he pauses, brow slightly cocked upwards when he glances down at you. 

“Y’wanna take it out, sugar?” he asks in a way that tells you he doesn’t really mean it as a question. It’s not a choice, it’s something new he wants to teach you. Your face immediately shows your uncertainty and you blink hard, staring at where his hands rest before dragging your gaze up to his face. 

“I- “ you start, feeling anxiety bubble in your stomach. You hadn’t really handled Joel like that very much, not really at all since that night many weeks ago that he’d had you stroke it. Only a few gentle grazes, rubs of your ass on his crotch, or a quick brush of your hand over his bulge when you got needy. 

“C’mon darlin’, I know you can do it,” Joel urges sweetly with a confident nod, and you swallow hard before delicately placing your fingers on his waistband, that fine line hiding him from you. “Why don’t y’reach on in there, sweetheart, give yourself a second.”

You like his line of thinking for you to ease into it, nodding dumbly in agreement as your fingers sneak past the top of his pants, meeting warm flesh against the lower part of his belly as your hand moves further in. Bristly hairs on his soft belly that trail into curls above the base of his cock meet your fingers as they explore further down.

“Eyes here,” Joel says sternly, tapping underneath your chin as an accompanying physical reminder. You flick your eyes back to his and he smirks, a small sigh passing through his nose when your fingers start to brush along his length. You’re more nervous than you feel you should be, the room filled with a thick tension, your thighs clenched below you as you start to move down his shaft. 

“That’s it, baby, jus’ grip it jus’ like - fuck - like that -“ he stutters at the last second as your hand wraps around him, the tiny bit of pressure relief from the way he aches for you. So fucking hard, his cock so relentlessly hard for you any chance it gets. You pass a small smile off at his reaction, hearing that you’re on the right path with the way you’re touching him. Your fingers wrap around him as much as you can, tightening to a gentle squeeze and Joel groans quietly again. 

“Feel good, baby, don’t it? Like touchin’ daddy’s cock?”

You nod shyly, eyes averted for a quick second before bringing them back, knowing Joel was likely seconds away from re-instructing you to do so. 

“Yes, sir,” you reply. Your other hand moves, touching the waistband of his sweats, a questioning look in your eyes. Permission. 

Joel gives you a single nod. “Go on…”

One hand starts to tug down at the material, the other wrapped around him starts to move, but the heft of it surprises you so you slide your hand underneath to help lift it out. All at once his cock springs free and you blink in surprise at it so close to your face, reminded of where it’ll be going in just a few short moments. Even still, you can’t help but smile slightly down at it, such a mysterious thing to you, but the one source of so much pleasure for you. You never really get much of a chance to look at it like this, study it, everything always so fast paced with Joel or focused on you until he’s already inside of you, giving you hardly a chance to really see him. You feel your cheeks go warmer the longer you just stare at it, but Joel’s face says he’s more than pleased with your reaction. 

Your hand gently rubs along his length, surprised by just how smooth and silky it feels, and Joel hums in response. “Good fuckin’ girl, look at that… enamored with daddy’s cock, aren’t ya?” 

Your cheeks burn even more at the blatant way he spells it out but you nod for him. “Y-yes, daddy. I like it…”

Joel’s face goes soft, glowing with pride and satisfaction as his coy smile grows. “Oh, you’re just too sweet, ain’t you?” His hand reaches out, stroking the back of your head, nudging it closer. “Now why don’t you try ‘n lick it, babygirl, show some of that love you got for him.”

Your look of apprehension gives way to more confidence as you lean forward, Joel’s hand only a gentle guide now as you move closer and closer of your own volition, the tips of your toes pressed into the floor to give you leverage. Your tongue pokes out timidly, sight catching on the bead of precum leaking out of Joel’s tip, something of a mystery to you still. You suppose you’d learned that you get wet when you want to be intimate with Joel, so maybe it was the same for men too? You realize you’ve hesitated in your thoughts when Joel’s hand gives you a slight prod towards him.

Your tongue hits right on his head, the salty taste of the droplet hitting your tongue immediately. You’re so unsure, lost on where to go next, but you try to just let your body guide you as you have so many other times with Joel. It seemed to know what to do in most situations when your inexperienced mind had been clueless. You give the spot a few tiny licks, and Joel chuckles, looking down at the sight like it’s one of the most wonderful things he’s ever seen.

“Yeah, baby, keep on like that, little more,” Joel instructs you, and you angle your head to lick more along the side. “Try keepin’ your tongue out, jus’ lick,” he adds, seeing you opting for more kitten licks than giving his length a full stripe of your tongue. 

You try it, enamored with the way the skin feels against your tongue, getting down to the base where his hairs tickle your face, then doing it all over again. Joel groans quietly, his head thrown back for a moment as you try and speed up, licking with a little more vigor up and down his shaft. Joel had been right, you think you do like it, feeling your thighs tightening and warmth spreading across your skin as you continue the intimate strokes of your tongue.

“Christ, baby, you’re a natural…” Joel breathes out as he watches you becoming more comfortable. You glance up with your tongue stilled on his cock, and it twitches at the sight of your eyes glazed and innocent peering at him from below, his hard cock right there on your mouth.

“I-is it good, daddy?” you ask quietly, continuing to licking a few spots on the thick head in between your words.

Joel’s hand scratches at your head as he nods. “Real good so far, little blossom, real good,” he praises, smiling. “Let’s try what we practiced, yeah?”

You give him a tentative nod, fear settling in your belly. The way you’d been licking was one thing, but in the story Joel had just read to you, she had her whole mouth on it. Something you couldn’t even imagine happening with the sheer size of what was laid in front of you. 

“Okay, sweetheart, mouth open, tongue out f’me,” Joel says confidently, looking down at you. There’s a continuing softness there, like he understands how much he’d taken you by surprise with this, how you were scared that it might hurt you in some way. Joel wouldn’t lie if you asked, that it likely wasn’t going to be comfortable, but he knew you, knew his little blossom liked that rough side of him, feeling dominated, whether you had the words to express it or not.

You show him how well you’d learned, opening your mouth wide, tongue out and ready for him, and he smirks in response. So well behaved. So well trained. His mind flashes with pride at the thought and it goes straight to his already hard cock, nearly painful with how badly he craves being in your mouth right now.

Joel grabs the base of his cock with one hand, continuing his hold on the back of your head with his other, and he should ask if you’re ready, he knows, but instead in a swift movement he’s landing himself on your outstretched tongue, thick and heavy and you make a tiny whimper in surprise, trying not to shut your mouth in the process.

“Shh…” Joel soothes, “You’ll like this a lot, sweetheart. Stay nice ‘n wide f’me now.”

You don’t make any protests, simply doing as he says and letting him slide further along your tongue and into your mouth. You feel your eyes well up immediately as he pushes in, already feeling the stretch ache in your jaw. 

“Fuuuuck, yes, babygirl, that’s it, good girl, sugar.” Joel rolls the words off his tongue breathlessly as he keeps pushing, your mouth already stuffed so full and he’s nowhere near done yet. You make a tiny sound around him, the vibration practically sending Joel to the stratosphere while he groans. You’re so warm and wet, so delicate, accepting of him as he sees your mouth expanded wider and wider to accommodate him, the sight one of the most gorgeous things he’d ever seen. Nobody had ever looked this perfect wrapped around his cock, about to gag on it.

“Make a noise ‘f you’re okay, sweetheart,” Joel says quietly, nudging himself a little further in. You mumble a tiny whimper and Joel’s breath catches at the feeling of it again, and he takes it as a sign to proceed.

It’s too much, far too much, you think as your chest tightens in worry, there isn’t any way you can go further, that he can go further, and yet he does. He’s at the back of your throat now, your mind scrambled and only able to hold on to the feeling of him, the fullness of him. You hold back your gag, your mouth stretched beyond its limits and you feel fresh tears leaking down your already streaked cheeks. 

Joel tuts and swipes one of the tears away, knowing it’s useless, that many more are to come before all is said and done here. He pulls back slightly before slowly sliding his cock back again, trying to work you up to the hard thrusting he wants, knowing once again that patience is key here if he ever wants you to enjoy sucking his cock like the good little girl you are.

“Careful of those teeth now, baby,” Joel instructs, his hand still planted firmly on the back of your head, keeping it unmoving. “You’re doin’ such a nice job, sweetheart, look at you…” he murmurs as he slowly lifts his hips to move in your mouth again. You mumble, then realize it’s getting harder and harder to breathe as he goes deep and you panic, a hand climbing up to his thigh and squeezing with a frightened little whimper escaping around his girth.

“It’s okay, darlin’, you’re okay,” Joel tries to soothe you, picking up the pace only slightly. He stops at the very back of your mouth, just getting to your throat and he sighs as your warmth just envelops him, so tight and silken on his cock. “Jus’ adjust… relax…we’ll have this cock down your throat in no time,” Joel speaks confidently, and his belief in you almost feels encouraging at the moment despite the fear you still feel. 

Your eyes water at the lack of air you’re getting and you try not to panic again, letting him slide out enough to breathe in a ragged inhale through your nose, your mouth dribbling messily around him as you try to suck in air. Joel is back on you, though, faster than you’d expected, and you start to learn to hold your breath, only get the air when he’s far enough out for you to be able to. It’s tricky, the way you’re now alternating between gagging and gasping, trying to learn to control both with each thrust in and out of your mouth. Your nails have a death grip on his thigh, trying to ground yourself to the moment as you take his cock harder and harder. He’s by no means slamming into you like he usually does but you know this is different - so much more delicate and dangerous then the way he’s used you before. 

Joel is completely lost in the moment now, your vice grip on his legs not even a remote deterrent as he slips in and out of your mouth more rapidly. Your gagging and ragged, shaking breaths only urge him on, his balls tightening in need as the sight below him fills him with so much satisfaction he feels like he might die happy right in this moment. Tears streaming out of your pretty, glassy eyes, body wriggling on the floor where he knows your panties have gotten soaking wet just from this alone, mouth stretched obscenely over him, it’s all too much. He can’t stop himself though, needing more, wanting more. He needs to claim you, knowing he shouldn’t do this, he shouldn’t surprise you like this. And yet -

You suck in a deep breath as he pulls out of you with a wet pop, urgent hands reaching down to underneath your shoulders. Drool slides off your lip and chin, a complete mess as Joel hauls you up, scrambling yet controlled in his strength to pull you on top of him. You’re completely dazed, just going with Joel’s motions as he hurries to pull you to his lap, straddling wide with your legs almost on the armrests. There’s a tearing sound, and you can’t quite follow his quick movements but you feel the fabric of your panties falling away, tossed to the side as Joel forces you down onto him. 

The yelp that escapes you is more like a scream, your tight heat filled so suddenly that your vision goes black and then spotty for a few seconds. Your hips are held so powerfully that no movement is even possible as you’re pulled all the way down, Joel’s cock filling you up as he lets out an obscene, guttural moan. His hips jerk once up into you and you realize with wide eyes that’s it, that he had only wanted a vessel to come into, something even tighter than your mouth to squeeze it out of him. Your breathing is labored still, trying to get back to normal after the way he’d stolen your breath so erratically for all those minutes. You look down at him, eyes shut and chest heaving, liking to see him with a loss of control once and a while. 

His grip loosens and he lets his arms move around your back, snuggling you down into him, forcing your head onto his shoulder. Your eyes stay wide and unblinking, the last few seconds a complete whirlwind, mind still playing catchup as it still pictures your body on that floor with your lips wrapped around Joel’s length. 

“Mmm,” Joel moans quietly, so close to your ear that it sends a shiver down your spine. “That’s my girl.” Rough hands rub your back in soothing circles, fingertips scratching against the fabric of your white gown, quiet little hums of satisfaction escaping him as he feels his softening cock still planted deep inside of you. 

Joel nudges your head off his shoulder after a few quiet moments, and you hadn’t dared to speak, slightly scared by the way he’d moved, the animalistic urgency he’d displayed to you. It wasn’t necessarily new to you but something about that specific look in his eye unsettled you, scared you to think of how deep his need and obsession ran. 

His fingers swipe gently at your chin, still messy with drying saliva as he tries to clean you off. Your lips feel puffy, jaw aching and sore as you stare down at him silently, mouth parted slightly as if on the verge of saying something. 

“How’s it feel?” Joel asks you, eyes full of worry and fingers grazing your hairline in soft strokes. 

“O-okay… my throat…” you say, bringing a hand up to graze the skin above your collar. “It hurts.”

“Daddy’ll get you some water in a minute, take care of that for you, mkay?”

A nod. “Yes daddy,” you reply, frowning as your eyes suddenly cast down when you feel Joel’s spend leaking out of you, slickness coating him down onto his sweatpants. 

“What is it, baby? You don’t look happy.” 

You purse your lips to the side, contemplating. “Mmm… no it’s not that… I just wondered, um, why…” 

“Why’d I do what I did just now?” He’s back to looking a little smug, pleased with himself that he can read you so easily. You nod, feeling a bit lighter that he seemed to understand your confusion, that it wasn’t wrong to ask him about it. 

“Hard to explain, baby, but it just felt good. Wanted to feel more of ya. That’s my favorite feelin’ in the world, blossom, feelin’ you wrapped all around me like that. Makes me so happy.”

“Y-your favorite?” you ask quietly, brows lifted in surprise and an open mouthed smile pointed his way in disbelief. “In the whole world?”

“Thas’ right, sugar,” he says, softly bopping your nose with his pointer finger. “Couldn’t wait one more second to fill you up,” he says with more tease to his tone and it makes you smile a little knowing that you make him feel that way, feel so good. 

You wrap your arms around his neck and fling yourself closer to him, squeezing tightly. “Thank you, daddy,” you say, face smushed into his shoulder muffling the sound a bit. “That’s sweet.”

“No you’re the sweet one, darlin’,” Joel quips back, hands around you again to return the hug. “In fact, think I’m hankerin’ for a sweet treat…” 

You pull back, looking at Joel curiously, a glint in your eye that asks him if he means what you think he does. 

“That’s right, darlin’. Don’t think I forgot about you,” he teases before capturing your lips in a long kiss, one hand reaching down to feel how wet you are between your thighs. You gasp at the touch and then giggle as he starts to move, reversing your positions on the chair as he kneels before you, tugging your hips to the edge.  

He stares at your soaked, glimmering sex like it’s the most decadent meal he’s ever laid eyes on before diving in close. “Gonna take real good care of her…” he murmurs before you get lost in the pleasure. 

Joel leaves you again too soon. Even the solid several weeks you had in between Jackson trips pass too quickly, days flying by and melding into one another, all a blur other than the landmarks of seasonal change as Spring creeps its way further in. But it’s always a short trip, you remind yourself, he’ll be back in no time. Back to it being like he was never even gone in the first place.

Joel says it just takes him three days to get back to you. Three days. Not knowing how much of those three days is travel, how often Joel stops to rest and sleep, how long he actually spends in Jackson before heading back, who he meets there, who he talks to. A pang of jealousy shoots through you, bones aching for his undivided attention right now - that strangely terrifying yet warm sensation of having Joel’s entire efforts focused on you. You’re not sure you believe he’s with other women, but you can’t say the thought doesn’t cross your mind and make you frown while he’s out of your reach. Mostly, you’re jealous because you want interaction, to see another face and hear voices and see life happening. It’s too still here sometimes, too quiet, even though you have to say life here has been rather peaceful.

You fight the unrest much like you did the last time, wandering about the cabin, spending a lot of time in Joel’s special room at the back of the main floor. You like to see what he’s progressed on, still wondering when he finds the time to whittle and create all the little projects you see strewn about the desk. The human looking figure has started to take more of a form since the last time you saw it, a wide ring along the lower half of it making you tilt your head in confusion as to what it could be. You turn it in your hands, looking at the precision Joel has been working with and smile. He’s got a larger item, what looks to be a duck taking shape at the far end of the table, and you run your hand over it with a small giggle, almost like you’re petting the animal. You wish you could share this with him, this little secret you have, this way you know him that maybe he doesn’t realize just yet. You wouldn’t be surprised if he already knows, anyways, letting you think you have this secret to yourself. Joel was a bit cunning like that.

Days give way to nights, and you try to pass the evenings the best you can without Joel’s guidance. Luckily you’ve seen the routine enough times to replicate it, just without the satisfaction of having him there with you. Joel is a man of strict routine, not one for adventure, making each day feel a bit like the same as they pass, any deviation peaking your interest. But now, with the opportunity in front of you, you can’t help but follow that same old routine just to feel close to him. Dinner, dishes, tidying the kitchen, and then curling up to read. You’ve been working your way through another romance book after finishing The Forbidden Lady, going back to the beginning after the snippet Joel had read to you and devouring the book like it was the air you needed to breathe. Your latest, Captive by Love, was even better so far, finding the couple more enticing to read about. You realized with embarrassment that it was likely because they mirrored you and Joel more in their age difference, and although the gap wasn’t quite so large, you still felt more connected to the main character who was young and wound up betrothed after one accidental unchaperoned run in with Lord Prescott. 

You love reading something so indulgent when Joel mainly sticks to books that are nowhere near the shelf of similarly styled romance books, but you find it just isn’t the same without him here. Everything is too quiet, the romance you’re reading about less sparkling when it’s not his voice feeding it into your imagination, painting the vivid picture. He hadn’t offered to read any more of your selections just yet, but maybe he’d miss you enough while he was gone to reconsider. Your body curls in further on itself, snuggling onto his chair and you turn your head a bit to breathe in the fabric along the back, trying to gather any ounce of him you can. 

You miss him. 

A sentiment that catches you off guard as it slowly makes its way deeper into your heart with each moment he’s gone. You’re growing so soft for that rough man of yours, eyes growing heavy with sleep while you keep your nose buried to the back of his chair, letting his scent envelop you in a heartening embrace.

Joel is no stranger to the darkness, having fought his way through it more times than he can count, in more ways than he can count. He should have stopped when it started to get dark, should have waited until daybreak, but the thought of breaking that promise to you was too much to bear. Three days. He had to be back on the third day.

Dim lights twinkle in the distance, and he knows he’s close. Home. It’s been dark far too long for you to still be up, he thinks with curiosity, wondering if you’d left the lights on for him, the sweet as sugar gesture only spurring him on, ready to be with you again, feel your skin, breathe in your scent that gives him life. His hands twitch, tightening on the reigns as he pulls up and has Willow come to a stop. He rushes to stable her, make sure she’s fed and has all the loving pats she deserves for being such a great companion on these journeys, but his body is pulled towards that warm interior he sees shining through the windows. As soon as he’s at the front door, the tiny window allowing him to peek inside reveals what he was starting to suspect. You, slumped down in his chair, a book laid open where it fell down onto your stomach, head lolled to the side. Your dress is hiked up around your thighs and crinkled from the way you must have slid down in the chair. It’s that little floral slip he’d brought home for you last time, a knit cardigan draped over your arms that he knows are always getting cold. He smiles as he opens the door, slow and quiet, watching you intently to see if you stir. He fights between the urge to rush to you, open affection as he scoops you up and squeezes you tight, and something a little more sinister - seeing just how long he can play with you before you wake up. He licks his lips as he toes his boots off, shucking his jacket down his arms and hanging it up, staying as quiet as he can. 

His gaze hardens as he gets even closer, the rise and fall of your chest as your tits fall out of the somewhat skimpy top, a slightly lower cut scoop neck that hugs your chest in the most perfect way. His mouth waters, desire to feel his lips right on that soft, bare skin overwhelming him before he even notices the way your legs sit parted, as if inviting him in. He has to bite back his groan at the little wet spot on your panties, slightly faded but not getting past his sight, only growing his smirk as he stalks around the chair, taking in a good look at you. He feels the thrill course through his veins, the sick satisfaction of watching you like this, so unknowing to his advances. 

He gently lifts the book off of your chest, peeking at the pages you were last on, shaking his head as some choice words on the page jump out at him, indicating the kind of smutty scene you’d been consuming just before dozing off. His dirty, dirty girl…

He sets the book aside, leaning forward to finally get that taste of you, his lips fluttering on your chest as one finger pulls down at the neckline, exposing your cleavage, one pretty nipple poking out now. His tongue finds it, swirling delicately and you shift with a tiny, aroused cry before settling back down as he continues the movement. You only squirm slightly, but Joel keeps it soft enough to keep you dreaming, not wanting the fun to end just yet. With his tongue still keeping up on the hardened bud, his fingers trail up your thigh, a ghost of a touch, the most gentle he’s ever had to force himself to be as he gets closer to where your legs meet. His breathing is heavy, careful, long breaths as his fingers graze the outside of your panties to find them soaked. Joel bites his lip, almost hard enough to draw blood as he suppresses a guttural groan from deep inside of him.

God damn it, baby, so fucking soaked for me. He tortures himself with the endless thoughts of what he’d like to say to you right now, the dirty praises roughly whispered in your ear but he swallows them down, focusing on the way the cotton of your underwear soaks through to the pads of his finger as he rubs slow, deliberate circles over your clit. He sucks on your nipple a little harder, making you whimper and whine, body more restless by the second but he can’t help himself, he’s needy needy needy with his cock stiffening and straining against his jeans.

He pulls off your chest with a little pop, focusing entirely on watching the way his fingers dance along your clothed cunt, lips already getting puffy as the fabric sits tightly against them, the wet spot growing around his circling fingers. He can hear the obscene squelching starting  behind your panties as your breathing picks up, body fully in response now, stirring more but not quite lucid yet. He has to make you come before you wake, Joel knows that now, has found his purpose for the moment. The thought of watching you twitch and whimper, still fully unaware of what was happening to you makes him feel feral, his skin buzzing hot with electricity as he feels his own precum starting to leak through, a wet spot already forming on his jeans. The things you do to him…

Your tiny, sleepy protest when he moves his hand off of you to quickly unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans sends a pang of desire right to his aching cock, now gripped in one hand as the other gets back to work, delicately sliding past the hem of your panties. It’s almost beyond belief, how fucking slick you are for him in your sleep, how easy it is to make you weep even when unconscious, his fingers slipping so easily into your usually tight hole that he almost comes, barely a few strokes in on his own cock. 

Joel situates himself almost behind the chair with his arm draped across your front, wanting you to open your eyes to nothing, no sign of him except the feel of his expert fingers - his thumb working on your clit while he pushes two fingers in and out of you. Your hips buck and twitch when he finds your g-spot, making sure to give it all the special attention it deserves. Your head thrashes side to side, eyes starting to flutter, and it's like a race against the clock, seeing your eyelids want to creep open any second. Joel slows the movements purposefully, calming you down and lulling you back to sleep, the smile spreading across his face downright sinister as you leak and leak and leak onto his fingers, the shiny slick running down onto his hand as he pressed in hard, just putting pressure on that spongy, deep part of you while his thumb fiddles at your little bundle of nerves.

Your breathing catches over and over, high pitched cries mumbled repeatedly telling Joel you’re close. He’s moving at a languid pace, but not a careless one by any means, each movement intentional, bringing you right to that edge. Finally, you gasp, your body starting to twitch, hips tensing up and spasming as you squeeze his fingers and sputter out breathy moans for him. Joel goes a little harder towards the tail end, hoping to wake you on the come down, to realize just in time what he’s done to you, for you.

“Mmm…” you murmur at the harder pumps of his fingers, eyes starting to move under closed lids, fluttering a bit. “Daddy?” you ask with a cracking, sleepy whisper, looking perplexed, and Joel’s chest squeezes, your little voice music to his ears after the long few days he’d had. Your head tries to turn to see him, one hand reaching up to grip his thick arm that stretches across your chest and down between your legs.

“I’m here sweetheart, it’s me,” he responds in a hushed voice, leaning down to kiss your cheek, pulling his fingers out to rub the wetness onto your overstimulated clit. You twitch, hips pulling back on the chair but Joel keeps at it, making you spasm with a helpless whine.

“W-what’re you -“ you start to mumble but Joel shushes you quickly, further silencing you with more pressure on your clit.

“Shh, s’okay. I’m just makin’ you feel nice ‘n good… know you missed daddy makin’ you feel good, didn’t you?”

You nod tiredly, eyes shutting slow and lazy again, then whimper out a tiny noise as you feel the tension pulling in your core again, your legs starting to shake. You start to come to, senses returning to you as you hear how wet you are, feel the way it’s soaked through everything at this point. Then you hear the unmistakable sound of flesh on flesh, opening your eyes again to try to crane your neck and find Joel, the sight greeting you immediately making you feel more awake. He’s pumping furiously on his cock, keeping time with the way his fingers on the other hand move on your clit, hand gripped tightly and his face strained, softening into something half sinister and half sweet when he catches your eyes open, watching him. 

“Daddy…” you murmur, your hips rising off the chair when he hits just the right spot, making you wince with overstimulation. “Did you - did I…”

Joel nods for you. “Yes, baby, took care of it f’you. Saw a poor little thing in need of some attention from daddy…” He bites his lip and groans, his cock throbbing and ruddy in his palm. Your eyes stay transfixed on it, the way he so quickly and expertly moves along the length of him

“C-can you… on me…” you say tiredly, voice a little high and desperate as you turn your body towards him.

“You want daddy to come all over you? Fuck… fuck,” he blurts out, slipping his fingers more quickly on your clit. Your moans grow louder and he keeps up, holding himself off, wanting to get off on watching your pleasure once again, truly the one thing that he can never tire of, that could always get him off is those sweet sounds you make, the way your body shivers and moves and chases your high so unashamedly now as you bear down onto his hand. Your begging eyes look into his where he gives you a nod of approval, then down to his cock and you break, losing yourself to the pleasure.

“Jus’ like that, come for daddy. You’re doin’ so good, so pretty, baby,” he praises in a low tone, his eyes flashing eagerly.

“D-daddyyyy,” you whimper the moan, the sound lewd and pornographic as it’s accompanied by how loud and sloppy your cunt sounds with his furious movements, how much he’s managed to wreck you tonight. His hand pulls back, fully focused on himself now. “P-please… on me…” you stutter as your eyes barely stay open, fixated on his cock about to burst.

“Fuckin’... Christ, you are filthy, baby, say it, say you want it…” Joel says, puffing out haggard breaths as he tugs harder on his cock. It’s so slick and shiny, so absolutely spent just over what he’d done with you, and you swell with pride. 

“Want it… please come on me, sir, I want it…”

“Y-yeah… show me, show me that fuckin’ cunt, daddy’s little slut, show me how wet I made you without you even knowin’ it. Sleepin’ while daddy fucked you with his fingers.” He grunts out the string of words while you swivel on the chair breathlessly, holding back a moan, draping your legs over the armrest and opening them wide, lifting the dress fully all the way to your lower stomach, exposing everything. Joel’s breath hitches at the sight, your underwear so saturated they’re nearly dripping, his mouth hanging open in pure lust and amazement.

“Open up, open that fuckin’ mouth. Now.”

You sit forward a little, opening your mouth wide just in time for Joel to reach his high, jerking himself as ropes of cum splatter onto you, some in your open mouth, salty on your tongue, dripping down your neck and chest to your still exposed breasts, making Joel groan even louder at the sight of your nipples coated in the milky fluid. He releases himself with a sigh, hunching over slightly as he catches his breath before frantically reaching down to grab you, smashing his lips into yours with a hungry fervor just as you close your mouth to swallow. It’s messy and raw and crude, the way he sucks on your bottom lip, tasting himself all along your mouth and tongue with a quiet groan.

“I missed you,” he says gruffly, his voice hoarse as he finally comes up for air.

“Missed you,” you reply faintly, savoring the taste of him in your foggy state, still half dreaming. Joel quickly steps away to grab an old towel from the kitchen, using it to clean you off before swiping it over his own beard and mouth covered in his slick.

“Up, up,” he says, grabbing your hand and helping you to your feet, where you immediately sink down to your knees in front of him, then wrap your arms around his legs in a welcoming embrace.

“Welcome home, daddy,” you say softly into the leg of his pants, letting the warmth of him seep through to your body for a long beat. 

“Oh, princess, you remember how much daddy likes to be greeted like this, didn’t you?” Joel marvels at the vision, your hair a bit messy and face puffy and tired, but still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen as you sit on your knees. Seeing just how far you’ve come, just how much he’d dreamed of your submission, only for you to get on your knees all on your own and greet him makes him feel a pull, the feeling too strong to ignore anymore. This was more - more than all the power he’d craved, the loneliness he’d needed to quell with the presence of a warm body, the need for any kind of sexual satisfaction. You were precious to him, something to lose now, something that terrified him. He’d never thought much about being in love before, but he knew here with you, your body squeezed tightly to his legs, was the closest he could ever get to it.

“Thank you, blossom,” Joel replies with a slight crack in his voice, hand coming down to run smooth caresses along your head. You nuzzle into his leg in delight, your heart lifting, warmth spreading across your skin. “I’ve got to unload everythin’ still, but you head on up to bed, mkay? It’s late,” he tells you, leaning down to tuck a finger under your chin, making you look up at him. “Need your beauty sleep, my pretty girl,” he adds playfully, and you give him a docile smile and a nod before standing up, sliding your arms up along his body as you go, refusing to let go of the embrace, and Joel breathes out a chuckle at your harmless insolence.

“Can you promise you’ll wake me when you get into bed?” you ask, giving him pleading eyes, widened and still bleary with sleep.

“‘Course, darlin’. Will do.” Joel captures your lips in another long, lustful kiss, making up for lost time before pressing his forehead to yours and smiling softly. “Bed. Now,” he demands gently, gripping you by the shoulders and turning you to face the stairs, giving your ass a firm pat to get you moving.

You skitter into the cool sheets, desperate for warmth after having stripped off your clothes, discarding the soaked, stained panties and dress in the laundry, cracking the bedroom window to let in some cool air, only causing you to snuggle even further under the comforter. You barely even recall losing consciousness before you’re woken by a gentle shake from Joel as he slides into bed behind you. His broad form tucks up against you, spooning you, and you can feel the hot heat of his skin, so raw, so bare, such an intimate thing to share with someone, yet something that’s become so commonplace for you each night.

You can’t help but smile widely as you shiver, wriggling your body to get even closer to him. Joel’s lips are on your shoulder, still soft in their chapped state as they revere your body, respect the skin they touch. You start to smile widely, and you don’t know how you got here, but you’ve never felt more like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. 

“You came back…” you murmur quietly as Joel starts to absentmindedly play with your collar, his other arm sneaking underneath your body to tuck under your neck.

“Course I did,” he replies matter-of-factly, stubble brushing against your back as he takes a long, deep breath of your scent, that sweet goodness that he isn’t able to figure out where it came from. No shampoo, no soap in this house could possibly replicate it - it’s just… you. “God… missed this…” he mumbles quietly, almost so much that you don’t catch it fully.

“I-I mean today. You came back today. I was worried.”

You feel Joel’s head shake behind you. “Mm-mm, darlin’. Never worry. A promise is a promise. Daddy will always keep his promises to you.”

“Always? You promise?” you ask with a hopeful tone, your body melding further into his.

Tender lips find your skin again, creeping up to your cheek, making you smile as it tickles you when he passes the sensitive skin near your ears.

“Promise, baby.”

You forget to count the days, having meant to figure out just how long you have until Joel goes away again, those dreadful three days that are shrouded in mystery other than a cart full of goodies to show for it on his return. You find that instead, you’re joyfully distracted by the warmer weather, the way it seems to lighten Joel up as well and change around his well worn winter routine into something brighter. He has the two of you outside much more often, the sun seeming to scramble your brain into feeling some semblance of happiness again. 

Although it wouldn’t be Joel if he didn’t make most of his time outside something productive, but actually allowing you to step in and work on the gardening with him. It feels good, the soft, warm earth between your fingers while spring breezes blow in, puffy white clouds floating overhead against pretty blue skies. It’s invigorating, the way you actually work up a sweat doing something meaningful - growing a beautiful garden, what could be a beautiful life here with Joel. 

All of that excess energy you had gotten pent up lazing around during the winter months was long gone, spent in full each day as you two enjoyed the changing landscape together, although Joel never let you two go very far off the property. He’d get this look in his eye, fearful and stern, making it become a non-issue because you’d stopped asking, stopped trying to move beyond the bounds he had set for you. Someday, maybe, we’ll go on a hike, darlin’, he’d promised, and you hoped to hold him to it without putting too much stake in the idea. 

But you could be happy plucking wildflowers and traipsing through the tall grass and first line of trees along the edges of your confined little space, tending to the garden with Joel and taking care of sweet Willow. Laughing with him while you two take breaks underneath the shade of the massive, older than time Cottonwood in the backyard. It was all enough to fulfill you and wear you out by the end of the day for now, typically hitting the pillow with happy, heavy lidded eyes. 

But in a rare turn of events, you’re wide awake tonight after tossing and turning, that strange aura that only the middle of the night brings sitting heavily in the room with you. The sheets are too hot, twisted around your restless body as you try to grasp at any semblance of sleep, willing your eyes to go heavy, your breathing to calm. 

But the itch in your mind lingers, and you snap your eyes open again, then turn to look at Joel - he’s sleeping peacefully on his back, faint snores coming from him as you watch his broad chest move up and down. The sheet is draped over him, the man sprawled with his legs sticking out from under the fabric, bare chest on display, and you know the rest of him underneath the sheets is as well. He’d been asleep not long after pulling out of you and giving you a smattering of kisses, then breaking the news like making you come beforehand would soften the blow: another trip to Jackson tomorrow. 

You started to dread it in between the visits, the frequency of them, but you understood why. Living so remotely couldn’t provide everything even if the garden was coming in so lovely and lush this year like Joel claimed. With two of you eating, you knew Joel’s stores wouldn’t last as long as he was used to, and anything fresh could only be kept that way for so long. You thought maybe you’d grow to enjoy your alone time, and while you’ve found merit in it, you can’t ever fully relax while he’s gone. You worry for him, knowing how cruel and unrelenting the open road can be, how unexpected the dangers are, and it pulls your stomach into one huge knot each time he’s gone.

You wouldn’t dare ask him to tag along - he’d made it clear that it wasn’t an option any time it came up and he reiterated he wasn’t willing to subject you to life on the road again. Never risking your life for anything. 

Your breathing picks up slightly, but you press your lips inwards and together before huffing out a more confident breath. You roll over onto your side, scooting your body close to Joel’s, suddenly wanting his warmth despite the room feeling too stuffy only moments ago. Your lips find his shoulder, studding the perpetually warm, bare skin with kisses as your palm goes to his chest, right above his left pec. You’re soft and gentle, trying not to startle him, knowing it's selfish to be waking him right now for one silly question, but your tired, fuzzy mind isn’t thinking too clearly right now.

Joel’s lips smack a bit, a sleepy hmm buzzing on his mouth as he shifts a little on the mattress.

“Daddy?” you whisper, your lips still against his shoulder.

“Baby? What is it? Whas’ wrong?” Joel slurs slightly, his eyes fluttering but not quite opening yet.

“Daddy…” you mumble into his shoulder, suddenly wishing to hide yourself away now that you’re actually faced with asking him for what you want. Joel can be erratic, some questions responded to sweetly, some breaking the rules, and it can be hard to follow at times where your words will land with him.

“‘S the middle of the night, sweetheart…” Joel says quietly, his right arm reaching across his body towards you, trying to pull you closer. You scoot, throwing your leg over his and pressing your body close, giving his hand enough reach to cradle the back of your head now, running soothing patterns along it.

“B-but I have a question…” you mumble. “Can’t sleep.”

“My sweet girl can’t sleep?” Joel says softly as his fingers dance along your scalp, his eyes open now to look down at where you’re wedged into his body, entangling yourself more with every moment that passes.

You nod into his shoulder, and Joel suddenly moves, fast for someone asleep only moments ago, pulling your body towards his, forcing your leg to swing up and over him so that you’re straddling his hips. His hands are on your back, rough and demanding of you, pushing your top half down onto his. You feel the pull of the collar as it stretches to its limits, remembering that the leash is on tonight, locked into place and tied to the headboard. A few nights a week Joel does this, insistent on tying you up the entire night, a balm to his weary soul to know you’re safe and sound sleeping next to him, body unable to get further than a few steps from the bed. You’d wanted to protest at first, prove to him you’re not going anywhere, but you know at this point it’s not about that anymore. The way Joel looks at you with the leash on, all heavy lidded and lustful gives away his true desire - power and domination. If you had truly wanted to leave, you’d had months to do it, but you kept on crawling back into this bed every night, letting him fuck you and tie you up and use your body as his own personal toy, and never once complained.

He notices it now, the taut pull of the leather across the air towards the headboard and he smiles. His lips find yours and kiss you lazily, sloppy movements of his mouth as his tongue pokes out, begging entry into your own mouth. You let out a loose, quiet moan as you start to catch up to all of the sudden movement, your skin prickling with heat when you kiss him back. You feel Joel thicken with need beneath you, his cock growing harder against your ass and you clench around nothing as the craving kicks in. 

Joel pulls back, breathless. “What’s your question, baby, hm?” he asks, tender kisses placed along your cheeks, lips, nose, trailing little patterns over your face. Your thoughts have a sudden blur to them, fuzzy around the edges as your body takes over, hips squirming on top of Joel’s.

“Um… I…” you mumble out before Joel’s lips press against the corner of your mouth, catching you in another quick kiss. He lifts your hips for you, lining himself up like it’s second nature to him at this point before sinking you down onto his cock and you wince with a sharp inhale of breath. It’s raw, your cunt still achy and sore from the way he’d already pounded into you earlier tonight and now showing no mercy as he fully sheaths himself in your tightness.

“That’s a good girl…” he murmurs when you take him in full, groaning quietly in satisfaction. You feel short of breath as you always do when Joel fills you up like this, the angle with you above him so deep that you can hardly think of anything else.

“C’mon, blossom, you can ask daddy anything,” he teases with a rough rasp in his voice, his own body heavy with sleep, the movements of his hands skating along your bare back deliberately slow as he starts to roll his hips up into yours. You shiver, a smattering of goosebumps sending the hairs rising on your arms. You focus beyond Joel’s movements, his hips bucking up gently into yours and his kisses making their way to your neck, forcing yourself to blurt out the words you’ve been turning over in your mind.

“I want to go outside, daddy,” you rush out, and feel Joel chuckle underneath you. His hips roll sensually as he ponders your words for a beat. 

“Right now, sugar?” he asks, amused. Another kiss to your left cheek, then your right, his breathing picking up as his cock hardens even more at the way your velvet walls hug him like they were made for it. “It’s probably damn near two A.M.”

You shake your head, balling the sheets in your hands to ground yourself. “N-no,” you say more forcefully, but you’re cut short by a tiny jolt of Joel’s hips. He’s being so restrained, practically unmoving inside of you, letting you feel every inch as you flutter around him. 

“Then what, baby? Hm? What’s got you so tongue tied?” Joel asks, teasing, mocking you, knowing just what he does to your mind when he fills you up like this. 

You whimper and wriggle your hips but Joel’s hands hold you steady, only moving at his pace and giving you periodic slow, languid rolls of his hips. Your body goes hot, sweat gathering along your hairline and down your back. 

“W-while you’re gone… I want to be outside…” you finally manage to push out, gasping out a tiny moan at the tail end when Joel fully presses himself inside of you again. 

Joel stills at your words, his hands left frozen where they were gripping just above your ass. It feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room, a tense void left in its wake, and you start to hold your breath without realizing it. His head falls back onto the pillow, giving space between your faces now and you can still make out the glare in his eyes even without any light coming in. “Now what would make you want to do that?” he asks, low and serious. 

You stutter, your skin burning up as you feel fear creeping in. You cup a hand to Joel’s cheek, staring wide eyed into his stare, hoping to soften him. His brows twitch together and you feel him relax the tiniest bit, his cock twitching inside of you, begging to move. But he’s stubborn, unwilling to give you what he knows you want. Not if you’re asking silly questions like this. 

“Daddy… please listen to me…” you start desperately, your hand brushing against his stubble. “I get so cooped up in here while you’re gone. I don’t wanna - I won’t go anywhere, just the yard. Just… want to enjoy the sun.”

Joel scoffs. “Plenty of sun comin’ in those windows,” he clips, his hands tightening on your hips before rolling you over so that your positions are reversed and he buries himself to the hilt again, making up for the lost space. 

You gasp quietly at the movement, his weight pressing in on you and fullness overwhelming your belly. “I- I know… but if I could just… get some fresh air, please, sir, I’d…” you breathe out a long, shaky breath and squirm, desperate for friction on your throbbing clit. “It would help me feel less lonely. Y-you know how I miss you so much while you’re gone?” 

Your doe-like gaze and the way you feel like heaven incarnate around his achingly hard length breaks Joel down, and he sighs in sympathy. “I do know, baby, an’ you’re so sweet for that.” His hand now touches your cheek this time, stroking lovingly along your skin. “But I can’t put you in any danger.” Your mouth pops open to protest, to explain, but Joel’s fingers quickly move to your lips, pulling them shut. “Final say,” he spits out more harshly, thrusting into you. “No more.”

“But -”

“Enough.” Joel says, his voice louder than the hushed tones you two had been using. 

Your eyes fall, shoulders sagging in defeat. “Yes, sir…” you murmur, trying to be proud that you at least tried.

Joel huffs as his hips start to snap a little faster, taking out his frustration on your already abused pussy with quick strokes of his cock. He grips at your legs and throws them over his shoulders, folding you inwards, hitting you at a new angle. . 

“What was that?” he asks harshly, watching your body bounce with the movement below him, tits moving so beautifully rough in the moonlight as he thrusts into you at an unrelenting pace. 

“Y-yes… sir…” you squeak out, eyes closing and rolling back as he brushes against deeper parts of you, your walls clenching and fluttering, fighting the pleasure, wanting to hold out. 

“Can’t…fucking…” Joel spits out, his words breathy and broken, “Hear you…” He folds your body a tiny bit more and you start to pant, the spot he’s hitting deep inside of you making your entire body red hot with need, release bubbling just under the surface of it. 

“Y-yes sir!” you scream out as your back arches into the movement, knees starting to shake. “Yes sir!” you add another for good measure. It’s close, so close, your pussy screaming in that pain only Joel doles out but craving more by the second. 

“Damn fuckin’ right…” Joel says roughly, hands wrapped around your ankles, squeezing tight to hold you in place. 

“Daddy please…” you whimper, your belly starting to coil tight with that need for him. 

“Be a good girl and come for me,” he says with a kindness, not making you play any games and beg for it tonight. You feel yourself so close, whining as you try to heed his demand but you need something, something more that you can’t place as the tingling sensation teeters right on the edge with each movement of his cock into you. 

“Now.” His command is followed by a push of his finger on your clit, quick movements on the nerves sending you screaming and falling over the edge. You fall apart completely, convulsing and writhing with your wild moans and Joel watches in satisfaction as he fucks you even harder, sweat dripping from his brow with the effort. The way you squeeze and flutter and cream all over him tells Joel he’s done well this time, better than most, and you must be seeing stars right now. The pure decadence of the sight laid below him sends him to his own high, several more thrusts of his hips before he’s spilling into you for the second time tonight. 

He rolls off of you as you come down, tugging your body close as you wheeze out your breaths, truly shaken by what you’d just experienced. You’ve found that you can do this countless times with Joel, but it always ends up feeling a little different each one, always a surprise waiting at the end for you. 

“Now,” Joel says more calmly. “Go to sleep, blossom. And no more questions.”

Even if you had a choice, what he’d just done to you - leaving you all dazed and fucked out - made the choice for you as you lay limply with eyes growing heavier by the moment.  

The last thought that flits its way through your tired mind is all you have to go on: at least you tried.

Joel is packed and ready to go when you get downstairs in the morning. He sets your mug on the table as you walk in, one he knows is your favorite with a dainty, vintage floral design on it, little wafts of steam coming off the top. You drink it religiously without thinking twice, part of your morning ritual that has seemed to work well - no traces of you getting pregnant yet. You find yourself quietly relieved every time you get your period, not daring to share those feelings with Joel just yet, barely even exploring them yourself.

You’re quiet, feeling sullen for more reasons than you can count, the only sound in the room the crackle and sizzle of the pan on the stove as Joel finishes cooking you breakfast. Your typical energy in the mornings is nowhere to be seen, a bit ragged looking with your sad eyes, so he beckons you over. You slip underneath his outstretched arm, knowing that’s right where he wants you, and he kisses the top of your head as he tucks you close to his body. 

“Was daddy a little too rough last night?” he asks, keeping his eyes on the pan. You’re about to shake your head no, lie to avoid upset when he already seems to read you like an open book. “Don’t lie, no fibbing to daddy remember?” he says, turning the both of you to look at the fridge where he’s hung up your list of rules with a Wyoming themed magnet. 

“Yes, sir. It was a little… you, er, hurt my feelings.”

“Mhm,” Joel says sympathetically, leaning his head into yours. “You know how I feel about what you asked me though.”

“I know, daddy. I’m real sorry, it won’t happen again,” you acquiesce, eyes fixed on the floor. It had been a bad idea to begin with, asking him something so out of bounds like that. Of course it was best if you were safe in here, following Joel’s commands set on protecting you. They seemed to be working well enough so far.

“No it won’t,” Joel says sternly, lips brushing along your head. “‘Cause you won’t need to ask me again…” His tone lightens, a squeeze to your shoulder telling you something has shifted here. You turn your head and look at him, tentative excitement building inside of you as you question him with your eyes rapidly scanning all over his features.

“Wh-“

“I changed my mind, pretty girl,” he says with a soft smile. “You’ve been such a good girl for daddy and I want you to feel good baby, have a reward.”

You’re suddenly too enclosed for the amount of relief and joy you feel, body squirming with delight in his hold. “Daddy, really? I can?!” 

“Yes, darlin’, thas’ what I said,” he says with amused annoyance, and you barely hear it as your arms fling around his middle, embracing him tightly, your entire body pressed up against him. 

“Thank you thank you thank you daddy! Oh my -“ you push out breathlessly, practically bouncing where you stand. You pull back, even surprising yourself when you angle your head to kiss Joel hard, one hand grabbing his face in the process. You don’t often kiss him like this, preferring to let Joel initiate things just like you think he prefers as well, but you like the feel of it, giving in to the excitement of the moment. 

Joel laughs against your mouth, pulling back but unable to get your grip on his any less tight. “Watch out now, ‘fore I burn your food,” he teases, and you step back slightly before holding onto him again, unable to help yourself. 

“Thank you, daddy,” you say more sincerely, met with a ruffle of your head as Joel embraces you back. 

“You’re welcome, blossom. I know it means a lot to ya,” he says, and something in the way he says it catches you, the understanding, thoughtful tone of the words. Like he’d stayed up thinking about it last night, wanting to do something for you because it means something to you, even if he didn’t fully agree with it. How could you have ever called this man a monster? A fiend? 

You squeal, your arms in a tight lock around him still, ear pressed to his chest to hear the steady heartbeat thrumming behind the walls of muscle. You rock back and forth, holding in that infectious giggle of yours and Joel shakes his head down at you with a small chuckle.

He stiffens suddenly, as if remembering his place here as a leader, a protector, letting his fingers wander absentmindedly along the curve of your collar as he often does. “Now it’s not all fun and games. Rules, okay? We’ll go over the rules.”

You read his body language and go a little rigid as well, pulling back and reigning in some of your excitement as you stand dutifully next to Joel while he plates your breakfast.

“Yes, of course, sir. Rules.”

The sun is shining so brightly, so beautifully this morning that when you bounce around the kitchen having breakfast you practically can’t wait to get outside and bask in it. You’d slept in quite a bit today, the sun already high and bright in the sky as it streams in through the open windows. The breeze calls to you as you finish biting on a piece of toast with some berry preserves, and a pang shoots through your chest, wishing you could share the moment with Joel. But today is the third day, the one he always promises to return on, even if it’s late at night like his last homecoming. You take heart in the fact that you’ll see him today and he’ll scoop you in his arms, being so extra sweet in the way he only is when he’s missed you.

You sigh, brushing the crumbs off of the top of your dress and leaving your plate in the sink, promising yourself you’d return to it soon, but your feet itch to get outside, touch the grass and feel the warmth seep in through your toes. You’d gone out each day Joel was gone so far, roamed around to check on the garden and sit on the rocker on porch, but it had been a bit chilly both days, sending you inside to warm up a bit. Today, however, already looked like it was going to be perfect - warm enough you wouldn’t even need a sweater or jacket, weather you could spend the entire day outside in. 

Your breath catches as you turn the knob on the front door and it moves, turning slowly with your hand. Even though you knew it would, you still feel wrong, like you’re getting away with something behind Joel’s back. For all you know, he’d be back soon and come lay right down in the grass with you and nap, waking you with sleepy kisses, or watch you from the chair on the porch as you frolicked with a sugary sweet smile on your face. Your heart longed for both of those scenarios, having to remind yourself to be content with what you had right now - just you and your own company. You remember with a grin that you’ll have the entire summer to do all of those things with Joel.

You breathe in deeply, letting the sweet smell of the air fill your nostrils and bring you a flicker of life. It’s sweet, an abundance of wildflowers starting to bloom all along the grass and the slightly worn path that leads from the cabin out into the woods. Your eyes linger quickly on where Joel’s ax sits wedged into a stump of wood off to the right, then you clear your head of him before bounding off the porch steps. Steps of freedom. 

It’s balmy but breezy as you get out from the shade, the perfect Spring day to ease your soul. Joel was riding on Willow in this, you think to yourself, under this same sun and getting this same breeze right now. He had to be close enough to feel it, didn’t he?

You walk around the yard a bit aimlessly, standing back to inspect the home from the outside, never getting much of a chance to do so. Even when you are outside with Joel, you’re typically busy - in the garden, watching him work, being devoured by his lips and his touch - leaving you no time to admire the craftsmanship of your new home. How quaint and sturdy it looks, lush trees and wildflowers growing all around you. You catch the corners of laundry blowing in the breeze along the side of the house, hung up on clothespins. Maybe you could surprise Joel by taking it down for him and bringing it inside, although you’re not sure how happy he’d be that you did housework without his say so. Chores are relatively off limits, and Joel only invites your help once and a while with easy tasks when he can see that you’re feeling antsy.

You decide against it for now, a nice sunny patch in the front yard calling for you to lay down and soak in the beautiful day. You do a few twirls as you move off some excess energy, giggling to yourself before flopping down onto the grass and closing your eyes in the brightness of the sun. 

It’s pure heaven, a delight you haven’t known for years, maybe. Golden silence, the warm sun sending your skin tingling, a moment with no expectations, nothing on your agenda. You’d been shut in a lot of the time in the last few years, long before you ever found your way here to Joel’s. Harry and Josephine insisted on keeping you inside most of the time, busy with chores or prayers and lessons, or anything they could think of to make you into the most virtuous girl the community had ever seen. You aren’t too sure if it had worked, in the end.

You sigh out a contented little noise, feeling your chest rise and fall more slowly under the thin material of Joel’s favorite gown on you, hoping for him to catch you in it when he gets home. Thinking about his reaction alone makes your skin feel prickly and alive, desire pooling right between your legs with a dull throb. 

You barely notice your slow fade, the way your mind goes blank as you drift off, head lolling to the side and breathing in the mellow, musky smell of the earth. You’re so far gone in that half dream-like state that you don’t notice it. The rustling noise of grass under boots, louder and louder as it approaches you. The shadow that begins to cast itself over your body, mistaken as a cloud passing by the sun in your mind as you doze. No, you don’t notice any of it at all. Not until it’s too late.

You jump, skittering a few inches along the grass when a voice booms out. “Well, what do we have here?” it asks, and when your eyes are able to focus, all you can do is gape, pure terror written on your face. You stare upwards, your heart nearly painful with the way it hammers at your chest and take in what you fear could be your last moments depending on this man’s intentions. 

Dangerous men out there, darlin’, worse than those infected, Joel had said quietly near your ear while he held you on his way out three days ago, warning you to be alert if you went outside. How could you be so stupid? Do the complete opposite of what he’d said, falling asleep like some kind of prey, ready for the taking?

“You here all by your lonesome?” 

You inhale, finding your voice as you feel your hands tremble against the ground where they’re planted. Your head shakes quickly. “N-no. My-” Your what? What was Joel? Not your boyfriend, not a husband, he was - “My daddy is home,” you state, hoping the lie comes out more confident than you feel.

The man smiles, yellowing teeth baring down at you in a sneer as a hand runs through his unkempt hair. He’s older, too, like Joel, but maybe not quite as old, you think. He’s got a wiry build, tall and a bit lanky but you see the hidden strength there in the way his cutoff tank top shows his biceps. He’s a much bigger threat than you’d think at first glance. Sandy hair that’s cropped shorter, but it’s greasy like he hasn’t showered in days. Not anything out of the ordinary for the way of the world, especially if the man has been traveling, but it unsettles you, the way he towers above you with his unwashed hair and dirty face.

“That so? Your daddy just lets you play out here all on your own, does he?” the man asks, voice dripping with condescension. You freeze in fear, wondering if he knows, if you really are as bad of a liar as you think you are and this stranger can see right through you from miles away. You try to sit up, putting your forearms onto the grass, but the man’s boot quickly comes down to your chest, sending you back down with a loud oof as the air leaves your lungs. 

“I- I’ll scream for him,” you warn him breathlessly, balling your fists to hide the way your hands are shaking. 

“Go ahead, girl, try screaming. I’d bet your daddy isn’t anywhere near this place. Hell, maybe he doesn’t even exist.” You wonder if he’s been watching you, if that’s how he’s figured out that you’re alone. If he’d spent any time around here in the last few days, peeping at you through the windows, he would know. He’d have seen how you wouldn’t stand a chance against someone like him. He sneers down at you, boot pressed firmly against your chest, laboring your quick breaths. His darkened eyes scan over you, like they’re getting the first good look at you now that he’s close, but they catch and his brows go inward. “Although…” he mumbles, eyes trained diligently on your neck for a long beat before finding your face again.

“H-he’s here! And I’ll scream if you don’t leave right n-now,” you insist, squirming under the man’s boot as it grinds into your chest, pressing you into the earth below you. “F-final chance!” you warn, knowing it’ll all be in vain, but anything you can do to scare him off is worth the risk.

He cocks his head, the sun shining brightly around his silhouette making you squint. “Yeah? Why haven’t you done it yet, then? If your daddy is right in there?” he quips back, motioning to the cabin, a smirk growing on his lips by the second. He’s got you between the teeth, and he knows it. Prey for a starving man right here for the taking.

You send out a silent call first to Joel, out there in the wilderness, making his way back to you. The connection he shares with you could be strong enough, you desperately think, to warn him, to tell him something is amiss. Praying hard for the first time in months, a genuine plea behind it this time, you ask Joel to be close by. Close enough to hear you.

And then you scream.

divider by @/saradika-graphics!

smother - part x: hysteria

dark!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: you can only pray that joel makes it back in time to save you. 11.6k words. chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI! dubcon - stockholm syndrome, general coercion, innocent reader, big juicy age gap (reader is 19, joel is 55), ddlg/daddy dom! joel, sub!reader, reader wears a collar, fingering, unprotected piv, exhibitionism, creampie, pet names for reader, dirty talk, knife play (not from joel oop), canon typical violence, reader gets injured, reader has hair, if these darker tags aren't your cup of tea please keep scrolling! a/n: fuck bryant ross all my bitches hate bryant ross 😤 don't @ me when you get to the end, okay please do but also uhhhh *runs and hides*

Bryant Ross never considered himself a bad person. He just lived in a bad world. Twenty years old at the start of the Outbreak with a promising future in college football and on his way to becoming a star quarterback. Football was a place to put all of that rage and violence inside of himself, as safely tucked away as he could get it between matches. He’d intended on keeping it that way until one night, his entire world went to shit just like everyone else’s. His parents, his two brothers, all gone in the blink of an eye, all because of some fucking virus that he didn’t have the displeasure of meeting himself, letting him go off the face of this Earth along with them.

He fell in with the wrong groups immediately - desperately stricken with grief, needing a place for all that outrage at the way his entire life had been ripped out from under him, he joined a group of looters in Columbus within a few days after the Outbreak. They pillaged, tore everything apart that they could find, including infected and people. It was a group of similarly like minded people that put Bryant’s fears at ease. He was okay, he would be okay. Group after group, Bryant skated along amongst them over the years, once trying life in the Cincinnati QZ in those early days, and not finding it to his liking. Too confined. He preferred the life out there where he didn’t have to face the thick clouds of judgements that others seemed intent on giving him even though the world had now turned to a stinking cesspool of horror, crime, and malicious intent.

Bozeman had been his home for years with the group of raiders he’d joined that lived there, the entire town theirs after a long, drawn out battle with the previous residents. They’d tentatively taken him in before deciding he was worth it, that his history proved he’d be enough of an asset to them. From there, he got to enjoy the fruits of their labor, the years they’d spent cultivating this place into their sanctuary.

Until it wasn’t his anymore. One accidental slip of the knife - maybe on purpose - and his years of service, everything he’d given to them, gone in what felt like a second. 

She was our favorite fucking toy, Bryant! Jasper had spit in his face, veins popping and cheeks colored red. We get to do enough of that shit, killing people, you fucking asshole. You took it too far. They all say the words as if they’re clean, as if they haven’t committed some of the most horrific acts right by his side.

Bryant had watched the life drain from her eyes, and he wasn’t sure he felt sorry for it. Cuts marred her, eyes leaking fresh tears that only made him more excited by the prospect of holding the knife to her throat. She had been his favorite toy too, and he’d been warned, too many times, they said, about the concerning amounts of injuries on her body for them to be able to forgive this.

He was on his own, expelled with whatever he was able to fit in his pack, wandering the harsh wilderness and trying to clear his mind. Find his next place to call home. Maybe he was better off, he’d started to wonder, just being on his own without those assholes he’d called friends over the years.

Hope lost as days turned to nights over and over, crossing the border into Wyoming and through Yellowstone. Then a tiny cabin came into his view, salvation on the mountain, maybe a mirage in his tricked out mind that was running on little sleep these days. It wasn’t exactly what he had thought he was looking for at first, not until he’d seen movement through the windows. Just a flash of fabric, a dress swishing as you moved within eyeshot, a bit of hair, a quick peek at your face.

Hope gained when he saw you. 

The sound echoes. Loud, piecing, shrill. A noise you weren’t even sure you were capable of before trying in this desperate moment. The dense forest eats it up, the sound traveling farther away in an instant, absorbed by the brush and the leaves and your lungs burn with the effort but you don’t stop the high pitched call you’re screeching out. Not until you’re forced to.

You feel the crush, the wind knocked out of you completely, sending you choking on the rest of the air trying to push its way out in a scream. You cough, doubling up into yourself but your knees hit the mystery man’s boot that’s just made its way down onto your chest hard.

“Shut the fuck up! Shut up!” he screams, clearly panicked by just how loud you’d been able to be, and you’d even surprised yourself. You whimper softly, tears stinging at your eyes as the pain pulsates across your chest.

“G-get away, he- he’ll be coming!” you say, gasping for air, unsure of why you’re trying to keep up the lie. Maybe it’s for your own good, your own sanity to believe Joel will come lumbering out of the cabin in a rage, whipping his revolver off of his waist and scaring your new nemesis right off.

The man leans down, crushing his boot further to your chest as you rests his elbow on that knee, sneering with those yellow teeth you hate, the sight of them making your stomach start to revolt against you. 

“Ain’t shit coming out of that cabin and we both know it,” he replies coolly, his voice so low and terrifying, a horrible sound against the beauty of all the birdsong in the distance. You choose not to respond, giving him the answer he was looking for, making his nasty, coy smile grow even wider as his eyes drop to your chest, where his boot lays just above your breasts as they heave up and down. Your outfit leaves little to the imagination, most of the reason this is one of Joel’s favorites on you, and you know this man is getting a show right now, the outline of your taut nipples poking through more than obvious. It sends a shiver through you while his eyes darken, straight panic that chills you right to the bone. 

“Let’s start over, yeah?” he says without making any effort to move his boot or release any of the pressure on your poor, strained lungs. You’re staying as still as you can, wanting to give him a sense of false confidence while you think about your next moves. “I’m Bryant,” he says, putting a palm to his chest. “And all I want is a little company, a place to sleep, not to hurt you.” 

You don’t believe a word he says. Other than the fact that he has already hurt you, the air around him, his aura, feels so dark, so sinister, that you couldn’t make sense of his words even if you tried. This Bryant is not above hurting you further, and you won’t fall for his placating bullshit. You breathe in more and more shallow breaths as you stare up at him, needing air, and your fight mode kicks into gear suddenly, like your mind goes completely blank other than screaming static and the urge to move. You start to squirm, shoving his boot off of you with a sudden force to his shin, causing him to stumble to the side to regain his footing. Just enough room for you to roll out from underneath it as he has to stagger a step away from you.

“Fu-” Bryant spits out in surprise, his brows furrowing deeper as he watches you roll away and try to scramble to your feet. “You little shit,” he curses you, rushing at you, and your eyes go wider in pure panic as you struggle to get onto your two feet, your hands chasing along in the grass, trying to push you up. Bryant’s got his wits about him, though, maybe he had expected a fight here, and he’s on you too fast, the precious moment of escape not enough before the large, knobby fingers of one hand wrap around your wrist, the other precise in its snatching up of your collar. Your hands fly to the front of the leather, trying to stop the imminent choking as he tugs back, pulling you into him. His body is solid against you, strong like Joel is, but so much more unwelcome. The pungent, vile smell of him overwhelms you and makes your stomach do another turn and you feel yourself gag, throat straining against the tautness of your collar. Your most special thing, your prized possession. Joel’s gift to you that he’s trusted you with and this stranger is using it against you - it hurts your heart more than you can even comprehend in the moment that it’s aiding in your downfall. 

Bryant swings your entire body around as you gasp and try to yell out in a raspy call, kicking your feet in his direction. He tightens the hold on your neck and you feel your lungs start to burn more with each strenuous inhale, not able to get enough air in each time. “Play fucking nice, won’t you?” he strains out with the effort of keeping you controlled as you flail and struggle against him. He whips you around suddenly, sending you a little dizzy before he starts dragging you behind him towards the cabin, only increasing the pressure on your throat. 

“Let’s see if your ol’ daddy is home afterall…” Bryant says with a laugh, a cold, cruel sound that makes it feel like ice is running through your veins, strangely countered by the way you can feel your skin quickly coating with sweat, your forehead and armpits already sticky and damp as you continue to fight him. He stops suddenly, tossing you to the ground, grass staining the pure white gown, and he swiftly lands a kick to your gut and you sputter, coughing from the impact and the way your lungs beg for air now that your throat is free, the skin burning hot and prickly where the collar settles back onto you. 

What would Joel do? A useless thought, you quickly scold yourself, considering you have none of Joel’s same qualities that make him so ruthless and formidable, and you’re completely outmatched in strength here. But what would he want you to do?  The thought turns in your mind for a moment as time seems to slow down after the blow from his boot, and you roll pathetically on the ground, curling up into yourself. You don’t realize you’ve started crying until you taste the salt of your tears leaking onto your lips and into your open mouth as you suck in breaths, trying to steady yourself.

What would he want you to do?

Your hands go up to your collar before you can think about it, shaky fingers clumsily twisting it around to get to the buckle closure that’s usually at the back. You wouldn’t dare take it off normally, break such a fundamental rule and hurt Joel like that, not unless the situation was desperate like right now. You won’t let this piece of shit use your devotion to Joel as a tool to hurt you, to control you any further. You manage to get the buckle undone, tossing it off and into the grass just as the man reaches for you again, hauling you up underneath the shoulders roughly, uncaring towards the way you wince and sob as he handles you, forcing you towards the front door. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Bryant repeats as his hand clamps over your mouth, clearly tired of hearing your cries. “Before I have to make you,” he adds in warning, and you feel the tip of a blade, held in his other hand, against your throat and your heart speeds up dramatically, to the point your chest feels like it's going to burst from the anxiety. Your cries die down immediately behind his dirty palm stuck to your face, only tiny whimpers coming out now as your tears continue to fall heavily. You nod slightly, letting him know you’ll cooperate, to not hurt you, please god to not hurt you.

He sneers, an unpleasant chuckle coming out as he holds you in front of him, forcing you forward towards the cabin. Your sanctuary. Your home. The thought of it being defiled like this, of memories full of newly budding joy being replaced with fear, makes you cry harder as the man pushes you into the door, crushing you against it.

“Open it. No fucking funny business,” he demands, his breath hot against your neck, body too close and claustrophobic. You nod with a tiny cry, reaching out your hand to the knob and turning, only to be pushed inside, falling to the floor again with a loud thud. You land mostly on your hands and knees, and immediately try to crawl away but he kicks you yet again, getting you right in the side, sending you down to the floor completely. 

“Please…” you beg the man, trying to lay completely still on the floor, eyes squeezed shut, hands fisted into tight balls, grounding yourself through the pain of your fingernails digging into your palms. “What d-do you want…” you say through your tears, your voice wracked with sobs in between the words. “Just… please stop hurting me.”

Bryant seems to pay no mind to your appeal, standing in the doorway, blocking your exit as he shuts the door behind him. If he’d been less focused on you, his wild green eyes boring into you, he might have noticed all the signs of Joel’s existence - men’s jackets hanging by the door, his currently unused boots and shoes next to the entryway, your now more colorful and decorated list of Daddy’s Rules hung on the refrigerator. Joel was all over this place, his presence deeply set into the foundation of this home you shared with him, and you almost felt sorry that he didn’t notice, didn’t realize just who he was messing with by association.

He crouches down to your level, tilting his head as he examines your screwed up face. “If you stop fighting, I stop hurting you,” he says matter-of-factly, and you get the sense it’s a complete lie. Your eyes flutter, squeezing tighter and tighter shut as you feel the cool blade of his knife drag along your cheek, your body responding by picking up a violent shaking.

“I-I- will - j-just please -” you plead with him, unsure of what to even ask for at this point, your brain fuzzy as you let your body go a little limp, a show of faith that you won’t fight, that you won’t subject yourself to the hurt anymore.

“Now that wasn’t hard, was it?” Bryant asks mockingly, once again pulling you up underneath your arms, tugging you to sit up. Your body aches, screaming at you all over your chest, stomach, and sides. “Get the fuck up, and sit in that chair, r-right there,” he adds, sounding the slightest bit nervous for the first time. It’s almost like now that he’s gotten you where he wants you, he doesn’t know what to do with you. Or maybe he’ll lose his nerve, you silently pray. 

You try to stand up, staggering as you do, your legs like jelly underneath you while the pain radiates throughout your midsection. You make your way to the kitchen table and the chair he’s pulled out for you as he holds the knife out in a direct warning to meet his demands. Your head lolls down, eyes feeling puffy and tired already from crying, and you watch him pull off and unzip his backpack, pulling out a large, long bunch of rope. Your face falls even further, a fresh stream of tears snaking their way down your cheeks. You should run, you should go somewhere, anywhere else, but you freeze, unable to even think straight enough to know which direction you should go. It’s pointless, anyways, with the state you’re in right now - he’d probably catch up to you in just a few paces.

Bryant grins sinisterly over at you as he paces towards you, putting a hand on your shoulder as he circles the chair. “Nice place you’ve got here,” he says, so casually that it catches you off guard, and you only blink at the ground and furrow your brows. “Lucky for me, I was needing a place to stay when I stumbled upon your humble little abode. It’s been too too long since I’ve had a warm bed…” he says in a low voice, standing behind you and draping a strand of the rope over your chest before pulling it tight across you. Your breath hitches as he goes tighter when he starts to wrap the thick, bristly rope around you, walking around the chair as he does in slow, deliberate patterns. He stops when you’re tied down about halfway, tucking one finger under your chin to lift your face to his. You quickly twist it to the side, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, but he gives you a blunt slap across your cheek, stinging hot as the noise rings through the cabin, before he grabs your face and turns it for you. You can feel your whole entire body shaking against the restraint, your eyes devastated but hardened as he stares into them.

“...Or a woman to share it with.” You go violent, shaking against the restraints, the chair wobbling only slightly despite you giving it your all. 

“Never,” you spit out defiantly, swinging your leg in his direction to attempt a kick at him, but he dodges it smoothly as if he’d anticipated it, leaving you feeling defeated. 

Bryant only laughs, continuing his way around the chair with the rope before he finishes, securing it. Your hands try to wriggle but there’s no movement there, your feet quickly seized next as he ties your ankles together, forcing your legs apart slightly before he does it, leaving enough room, he mutters. You feel your nerve endings light up at the mention, the implications of what he’s thinking of doing to you.

“You should know, I’m not normally like this,” he says in a cold voice, one that gives you the complete opposite impression, pulling up one of the other kitchen chairs to sit across from you, so close that he’s making his knees touch yours. It makes you feel sick, utterly defeated to feel the way he’s pressing in, that ugly, satisfied smirk on his face. “I’ve seen other men take what they want, use the Outbreak as an excuse to commit some of the most sinful crimes you could imagine… Bet you’ve never seen anything like what I’ve seen, you look too innocent for all that…” he interrupts himself with a breathy chuckle, pausing for a moment to see if you’ll respond. You keep your eyes averted, rapidly blinking away tears as you shake uncontrollably, unsure of where he’s going with this.

“They said I was bad, but let me tell you, I could be so much worse. Something about you brought this out of me when I saw you,” he says, tilting his head, looking at you curiously. “You know, I watched you last night, just to make sure you were home alone. Not some crazy group of raiders shacked up in here or something. Got quite the show, by the way,” he says, letting out a whoosh of air, imitating how impressed he was. “Never saw a soul move around in here but you, sweetheart, and yet you say… you live here with your dad?” He laughs softly, and then pouts in your direction like he feels sorry for you, like he’s calling you crazy or completely delusional. You breathe heavier, nostrils flaring at the mention of Joel. 

“I-I do!” you counter him, thrashing a little in the chair, not even caring to correct that he thinks Joel is your dad. The thought of him being outside, looking in last night makes you nearly gag, wondering just what he saw, what ideas he’d gotten about you. “A-and you’ll regret this.” You finally move your eyes up to glare at him, trying to make him see it, understand what will wait for him if Joel comes back. When Joel comes back, you remind yourself.

“Not so sure I will…” he replies indifferently, ignoring your plea to him, “From what I see I’ve got the perfect situation here, don’t I? Food, a bed, you here all by yourself… what a lucky find, eh?” The man starts using the knife to brush up and down your thigh, sending an involuntary wave of goosebumps across your skin that you hate yourself for. He doesn’t deserve a response, anything from you. Your brows push together, teeth starting to chatter as you push your angry energy out into the room, grimacing at him.

“F-fuck you,” you spit at him with scorn, not caring that you’re breaking one of Joel’s rules about swearing around other people, and you start to think that maybe he wouldn’t care right now, either. It’s a tiny balm in the moment, to picture him proud of you for talking back, for fighting so hard for yourself. 

Bryant laughs again, the mirthless sound piercing you right to the core, and you feel it all falling away - your will to fight, your life force, all sapped as your body aches underneath the crushing force of these ropes. He lets the knife press in a little deeper, an indent forming on your thigh before he pierces the skin and you see a droplet of blood forming around it. You whine loudly but it only spurs him on, beaming at you with an evil sneer, brushing the sandy brown locks of his hair back quickly as his breathing picks up. He likes this, he likes hurting you, likes the blood he draws from your untouched skin, being the reason you bleed.

“You want me to go deeper? I can go deeper, pretty thing…” he says callously, his eyes flashing and wild, something sinister behind them that’s coming to the forefront.

You breathe in a ragged inhale and shake your head quickly, your gaze steady and transfixed on the spot, watching the bright red bloom on your skin as tears fill your eyes again. “N-no, please… please stop…”

He withdraws the knife and keeps his eyes on it, watching the tiny droplet of blood drip off the knife and onto the floor between the two of you. He stands, closing the gap and widening his stance, moving to straddle you. He looms, looking larger than ever as you start to shrink under his imposing form, the reality of this losing battle. The man is practically frothing at the mouth as he sinks down lower, bringing the knife to your throat eagerly, pressing softly but not enough to hurt yet or draw blood. You feel the bulge against his worn denim hit your thigh, and you finally snap in half, your body continuing to respond with shaking cries and whimpers, begging him to stop, but your mind feels… somewhere else.

Joel… you think desperately, wishing with every ounce of energy you have left that he was here with you, that this was all just a bad dream, a horrible nightmare you could jolt out of at any second. Oh, ‘s’okay, princess, c’mere… Joel would say so soft and caring before gathering you up in his arms, his bulky, warm biceps pulling you close. His scent would be so sweet, would smell like sunshine and the outdoors, or maybe a little tang of sweat like he has after a long day in the garden. He’d kiss your forehead, then your cheeks, picking up the few stray tears left with his lips, moving on to your nose, and finally, your lips. 

It would all be okay…

Joel thinks of you. For three days straight, he thinks of you, and you float through his mind like the dream that you are to him, the most precious of things that lights up everything in his life. He’s itching, eager to see you as he always is when you’ve spent time apart, his muscle memory carrying him forward on those last legs of the trip home while his mind stays distracted. That familiar, warm feeling crops up inside of his chest when home comes into view, when he’s close enough to finally allow himself to fully dream about holding you again, hearing the sweet lilt of your voice, tasting you, fucking you until you’re raw and shaking and screaming like he was meant to do. 

He follows the usual routine of stabling Willow first, his skin buzzing with anticipation as he rounds the yard to get to the front door, wondering just where you’ll be. He fights a hard on as he imagines you on your knees by the front door, having heard him coming, maybe even with the leash already on so he can pull it taut and remind you who you belong to. He shudders with a pleasant zing up his spine and adjusts himself in his jeans quickly before pressing on. 

Joel’s daydreaming is cut short when he spots it, his mind spinning with the sudden, unexpected interruption. His breath catches, heart feeling like it skipped too many beats to be natural as he stops dead in his tracks. Joel watches his hand shake, feeling like it belongs to somebody else as he sees it reach down to the grass and pick up the strip of leather. Your collar. 

Something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong, Joel thinks with a sinking stomach that quickly turns to resolve as he puts one hand on his revolver. He’s learned to track and hunt over the years, quickly noticing the way the earth has been disturbed, scuffle marks and drags of feet that jump out at him. He glances off to the woods then back to the ground, eyes narrowed, trying to discern which direction to begin looking for you. There’s no way you just… left, he thinks with a pang to the chest, picturing you walking off, dropping your collar right where he’d found it without a care in the world. The thought alone makes him mad with rage, with worry, fear, a heartbreak so complete he can barely let the thought pass through his mind before he shakes it off. 

Besides, there was a struggle here, which means -

A noise catches his attention now that he’s on high alert and he’s up from where he’s crouched in a second flat, head whipped towards the front door of the cabin. A fear he hasn’t felt in so long - buried deep, locked away, and covered in cobwebs - threatens to choke him, freeze him right where he stands. He isn’t sure if he can face it, what he may end up finding on the other side of that door. But when he remembers it’s you, who he is to you - all those protective promises, vows to take care of you - he knows he’ll do anything.

It’s all happening before you can really process it. The door flies open, banging hard against the interior wall before it’s shoved right back open as it bounces back with the sheer force of it all. You wouldn’t be surprised if it was practically slammed right off its hinges with the power behind it as Joel thrusts himself into the room, wide footsteps stomping in a full sprint. You see him through your haze, your bleary, tear filled eyes, but you can’t really see anything at all, your mind having gone too numb to understand what’s happening in front of you, to believe that he’s really here. 

Bryant turns his head, gearing up to react, but it’s too late, Joel’s animalistic yell that sends a shiver up your spine overpowering every other noise in the room as he yanks Bryant backwards by the collar of his shirt so that he’s off of your lap. You hear fabric tearing as he’s practically thrown across the room, hitting the far wall across the kitchen. The entire wall seems to shake, knocking off art and hooks full of jackets and bags hung up along the entryway wall, a dull creaking of the foundation following before he slumps down a little, stunned at the sudden interruption.

“What the -“ he starts, more to himself, but the noise is cut off into a choke as soon as Joel is on him again, pressing his forearm to Bryant’s throat, slamming him into the wall a few more times, his head bouncing off the wood siding as his eyes get that dizzy look in them. He struggles for a moment before fighting back, swinging his knife at Joel, who despite his size dodges the blow quite well, only a tiny scrape as it passes his sleeve, cutting through the fabric and leaving a small gash. Joel quickly grasps onto the wrist with the knife, putting every ounce of power into stopping Bryant’s knife from plunging into him. He’s practically yelling, a loud, long groan as he pushes powerfully back on Bryant’s arm. The bastard’s hands grip Joel’s shirt collar, trying to break free, ending in a tiny scuffle between the two men before Joel is able to get his forearm back on his throat and crush it there. He moves like he’s possessed - teeth sneering, eyes wide and unblinking almost as if they’re currently not seeing anything at all, a low growl continuing from the back of his throat. He’s a machine, his large frame and possessive personality built for moments like this. 

Joel presses in on Bryant’s throat harder for a few moments before his other hand yanks him by the collar again, tossing him to the floor. He gasps for air and his chest heaves as he seems to remember his knife again, holding it up in self defense. It hardly seems to phase Joel who immediately bears down on him with another brutal, almost inhuman yell, nearly a growl as he straddles Bryant - thick, muscular thighs trapping him down. Joel grips Bryant’s wrist and twists it in a completely unnatural direction, making him scream out in pain, the knife clattering to the floor. And that’s when it starts. 

Joel’s fist connects that first time, the noise unlike anything you’ve ever heard as it crushes bone, the man’s cheek the unfortunate victim of Joel’s strength and pure wrath. But he doesn’t stop at one, no, it’s a flurry of his fist flying over and over, that first spray of crimson not enough for the rage he feels, the punishment that needs to be doled out. 

He’s grunting with each new punch, the man’s yells and sobs slowing into nothing, and you realize that a shrill sound has entered your consciousness over the ringing in your ears -  you’ve started screaming at the gory scene before you, snapping out of your trance. Blood coats Bryant’s face, his features puffy and less recognizable now, and you see that Joel’s hand is destroyed where it hovers above now, knuckles red and stained along with his shirt that’s speckled with blood. 

“Daddy! Stop! Please!” you scream out desperately, starting to sob. It’s too much, it’s all too much, the blood and the pain and the way that man you’d been so afraid of now looks so pathetic underneath Joel. He’d been so terrifying, but when Joel came into the picture, he’d barely had any fight in him, hadn’t stood even the slightest chance against the powerhouse that is Joel. When he whips his head towards you, you notice a spattering of blood runs across his face too, his teeth still set in a firm grimace, eyes dark and activated, someone you aren’t sure you recognize in this moment. But it’s still him, deep down in there, it’s still Joel. 

Joel shakes in a frenzy as the man writhes a tiny bit on the floor, his head lolling to the side as he lazily spits out blood, letting it run out of his mouth as he groans languidly. Joel is frozen, like it’s the first time he’s really seeing you since he bulldozed in here, intent on only one thing: violence. 

“D-don’t kill him, please!” you beg. You feel sick, the contents of your stomach threatening to come up as you face the possibility of having to watch this man die a brutal, painful death. You don’t wish it on anyone, you realize, even someone with such a vile heart like Bryant had shown you. He’d continued to use the knife on you, pokes and cuts that kept getting deeper, and the way he drank in the sight of your blood is one you’re not sure you could soon forget. He looked like he was in pure ecstasy, practically edging himself each time he’d cut you, rubbing himself through his denim either with your bloody thigh or his own hand. You were aching all over, body stiff and sore beneath the ropes, completely riddled with fear and a cavernous sadness, and yet… you don’t want him to die like this. 

“Please…” you say more quietly, letting your features fall as you stare into Joel’s eyes. His fist slowly lowers, broad chest shaking with the heaving breaths he’s taking, but his eyes stay glued to yours until both of his hands are on Bryant’s collar again. He grips it tightly, knuckles going white around the now busted skin before he gives the man one more slam into the ground, sending him groaning louder again before he stills.

Then he’s up in a flash, his eyes wet as he rushes to you, grabbing you by the face, the shoulders, everywhere he can touch as his eyes rapidly sweep over your body. 

“A-are you hurt? Are you hurt?!” Joel repeats the question before you even have a chance to open your mouth. “Jesus…” he mutters, your cheeks squished between his large palms as he breathes more rapidly, his eyes softer again, more like the man you know. He’s smearing blood all over your face, but neither of you care with the relief that is coursing through the both of you.

“A-a little…” you mutter, and the second Joel sees the cuts, the tiny bits of blood still oozing out or starting to dry around them, his eyes flash frantically, his face gaining back color and going red with rage. He’s working as quickly as he can with shaking hands to undo the ropes, twisting it around your body before snatching the knife off the floor and cutting through the ones around your feet. The second you feel it all fall free, you’re in his arms, like it was all one swift motion from him. Joel tries to speak, his throat tight and choked up as he just holds you, some indeterminate amount of time passing as you two live in this little bubble of relief that it’ll be over soon.

“Don’t kill him, daddy…” you finally whimper, gaining a slightly surprised look from Joel.

“He hurt you,” Joel says more harshly, pulling back to show you the rage still simmering in his dark eyes, his skin practically burning up with the desire to crush the motherfucker’s face in.

“I know… but I c-can’t watch it…” you admit, feeling weak, wishing you were more like Joel, a little more ruthless towards someone who’d gotten so much enjoyment out of causing you pain. 

You both hear a small shuffle along the wood floor, and Joel drops you in an instant, turning towards Bryant. Your knees are more wobbly than you’d anticipated, and you fall to them on the floor, shaking as you watch Joel approach Bryant’s sluggishly moving body with grave footsteps. Your knees pull up to your chest and you squeeze your eyes shut, rocking back and forth.

You only hear rustling, a tiny groan from Bryant, before Joel’s voice booms through the room.

“Move, sweetheart,” he says, the pet name not quite able to soften the harshness of his voice right now. Your eyes fly open as you skitter out of the way, seeing Joel dragging Bryant’s body to the chair you had just been sitting in, propping him up. You watch silently, eyes wide as Joel wraps the same rope that had restrained you around Bryant, making sure it’s tight, too tight to be even remotely comfortable, you think.

Joel seems singularly focused now, your presence in the room now an afterthought as Joel’s hand comes down to slap Bryant across the cheek. Once. Twice. Three times before the man stirs and his puffy eyes glare at Joel. You tuck yourself closer against the wall, shrinking in to feel as small as possible at the sight of Bryant’s eyes again. You can’t move, can hardly breathe or think straight as you continue to watch. 

Joel grins, his blood covered face only adding to the sinister energy he’s giving off as he bends down to get closer to Bryant’s, greeting him with another harsh slap to his skin when his eyes start to droop again.

“Up an’ at ‘em, buddy,” Joel coos. His arms strain against his shirt when he turns the chair harshly, facing it towards the table where Joel leans back, resting his ass and thighs against the edge of it, looking at the tied up man expectantly. 

“F-fuck you, man,” Bryant rasps out, blood trickling down his forehead and out of his lip. Joel leans back a little more, crossing his arms over his chest and cocking his head. He’s confident - this is his zone, his sweet spot right here.

“Fuck me? Fuck me? Thas’ weird… ‘cause I thought you were tryna fuck my girl here, take somethin’ that don’t belong to you.” Joel’s eyes are narrow slits, his forehead creased with deep set lines as he closely inspects Bryant before taking the revolver off his hip and tapping him under the chin when his gaze lowers. Harder, harder, until Bryant tears his swollen eyes up to Joel’s face. 

“God, no, okay?! I don’t want to fuck your daughter, s-swear, you - you fucking psycho,” Bryant finally replies, lying through his teeth as he strains against the ropes. You know that he doesn’t notice it, only you who knows the truth sees the way Joel’s face has a flash of recognition that then turns to a wily grin. He doesn’t bother to correct Bryant’s mistake, instead holstering his gun and continuing to smirk downwards at him.

“What was that I was walkin’ in on then, hm?” Joel asks, pushing off the table and walking over to where Bryant’s knife had been discarded on the floor earlier, picking it up and looking the small blade up and down. “Hm?” Joel implores him again, making his way back. He bites his lip, starting to hold the knife in front of Bryant’s cheek, sliding the dull edge down to his throat. 

“Answer me!” Joel yells, “What the fuck were you doin’ then?”

“F-fuck man, I-I-I’m sorry, okay? I-it was just - just a bit of fun,” Bryant replies pathetically, his voice shaky and so different from how he’d sounded with you. It was nice to know that Joel seemed to have that effect on more people than just you, then. 

Joel almost laughs, an amused smirk on his face at Bryant’s blatant lie as he pokes the tip of the knife along his flesh, making him squirm. “She look like she’s having fun?” Joel says, gesturing towards you. You jump at the mention, the sudden pairs of eyes on where you sit curled up, continuing to rock your body back and forth. It’s soothed you enough, just enough to be able to focus on what’s happening even though all you want is to leave this room, forget this experience entirely as soon as possible. 

“Does she look like she’s having fun?!” Joel booms out now, whipping his body towards Bryant and putting a hand to his throat, tightening it just enough to start cutting off the air. 

“N-no, sh-she doesn’t,” he gasps out, and Joel releases him, smiling all the while, a dark, sick smirk plastered to his face. Joel turns, walking towards you, and you start to shake with all his attention focused on you now. You can’t read him when he’s like this - not that you typically could, but at least in the recent weeks you’d been learning to. But you can’t see it, can’t see him in full right now, to know if he’s upset with you in any way. You’d been so stupid to get yourself into this mess, so how could he not be?

“Shh, shh,” Joel says quietly when he picks up on your fear of his approach. You see Bryant shaking in the chair, trembling out of the corner of your eye, but your gaze is focused on Joel as he crouches down to your level with his back to the other man. “‘S’okay, babygirl, it’s okay…” he adds with a soft touch to the side of your head, fingers dancing along your hair, his voice quiet enough that you think maybe only you can hear it. His smile softens just the slightest bit, putting you at ease.

“Think we should be good hosts, shouldn’t we? Show our new friend how we like to have fun?” he asks you, loud enough for Bryant to hear now, and your eyes flit over to him, wide eyed and terrified at the suspense of what Joel is planning next. You can only give him a few quick nods in response - obedient - still silent, not even sure what you’re agreeing to, although you have an idea. Everything feels hazy, almost like you’re still trying to return to your own body as you watch from afar, just wishing for this to be over. 

Joel helps you up, seeming to be extra careful and gentle with you, treating you like a fragile object as he leads you over towards the kitchen table, Bryant’s chair placed just a foot or two away from it. Your eyes avert to the floor as you hold your hands in front of yourself, meekly skittering past where he sits.

“On the table. Down,” Joel says, pressing your body down onto the table before you can get the chance to, your entire front half laying on it, legs hanging off the edge as your tip toes try to reach the ground to no avail. You can feel your breathing, fast and panicked as Joel comes up behind you, standing in between your thighs. He immediately runs both hands up the backs of them, the entire length under his fingertips as he goes higher and higher, hands roaming underneath the hem of your dress and to your ass, squeezing it. 

“Wh-what the f-fuck, man…” Bryant interrupts incredulously, and you turn your face to look at him, resting the other cheek on the table, wide and unblinking as you watch his face screw up in horror. 

“No,” Joel snips with his eyes on you, hands shooting out from under your dress to adjust your head, picking it up and moving it to face the other direction, having you look over at the counter and refrigerator instead. “You don’t look at him anymore, sweetheart,” Joel says, returning to his strokes of your thighs, this time dancing a hand right in between your legs to graze his fingers along the outside of your panties. It’s not as wet as he’d like, but he supposes he hasn’t expected you to be. Another reason he’s going to make this piece of shit pay. 

“Y-you - f-fu-“ Bryant stutters out, and Joel turns his head to look at him as he slips a finger past the hem of your panties, groaning quietly when he feels your tight hole already getting more wet at his advances. He knows you’re not fully here, so he stays gentle for now, trying to bring you back to yourself before he goes much further. 

“I what? Hm?” Joel responds smugly, making a show of pushing a finger into you, sending your hips twitching and a tiny yelp flying out of your mouth. You can suddenly feel your blood coursing through you, growing hotter, and you breathe out a wanton sigh when Joel pumps his finger a few more times. 

“She’s - she’s your - you sick fuck,” Bryant exclaims, and you can hear the chair shaking, like he’s only just now fully realized just how much danger he’s in now, how far Joel could go to hurt him. Joel stays quiet, slipping himself out of you, and moments later you feel his fingers hooking into the sides of your panties, lifting your hips slightly to help him pull them down and completely off. 

“My. What.” Joel says, nudging your thighs apart and lifting your dress up just enough that Bryant can’t get a good view of your ass, but Joel can see everything - the crest of your asscheeks above your thighs, your cunt already getting slick and glimmering just for him just from a few touches. 

You hear Bryant sputter a moment before he spits it out. “Y-you’re fu-fucking your daughter! You fucking freak! You piece of shit!” he screams out towards the end, the words intended to be poison off his tongue aimed at Joel but landing without effect. The chair shakes louder now, and you wonder at this rate if he’s going to end up knocking himself over. 

Joel laughs, a loud chuckle this time that reverberates through the room, and you feel the heat of his body move away, almost daring to turn your head to look around but you lose your nerve at the last second, balling your fists and waiting for what you hear next.

Joel is making his way to Bryant, and he’ll be damned if he has to hear another word out of this little piece of human scum for the short rest of his miserable life. He punches him square in the jaw, the sound making you flinch, and you’re suddenly very glad you’re following Joel’s instructions of keeping your head turned. Your underwear in his hand, Joel grabs at his jaw and yanks it open, shoving them into his mouth, loud, gagged protests coming from Bryant’s throat now muffled.

“Closest you’re ever gonna get to my girl’s sweet little cunt,” Joel says with venom. “An’ don’t you dare try to spit those out.” You hear him come back over to you, the familiar sound of his belt coming undone, jeans unzipping, and you try to brace yourself, fingertips pressed tightly against the tabletop, unable to get a grip on the smooth wood. Your chest is tight as you heave against the table, but half of it is out of excitement, you realize. You feel a thrill go through you, thinking on the way Joel has remained so cool, so collected, with that rage simmering just enough to not scare you completely. And all of this… is for you. To protect you. 

Joel leans over your body, trailing kisses down your back, and you shiver, whining quietly as you feel his cock brushing against the inside of your thighs that are all splayed out and giving him the easy access he needs. You can practically feel his smile against your body as he gets lower and lower before standing straight and pushing himself between your legs. The head of his cock rests heavy at your entrance, and you’re about to suck in a sharp breath in preparation when your whole head is lifted up by his hands, strong and rough. 

You’re caught off guard, feeling something tight against your neck, the panic subsiding in a flash to be replaced by a feeling of home. You smile a little, hand sliding to your neck to touch the leather, feel it against you again as you keen with a breathless sigh. In the same movement as he tightens and then buckles your collar, Joel sheaths himself in your tight heat and you scream out. It’s a heady, whining, almost animalistic moan, long and low before you suck in air between your teeth at the stretch. 

“D-daddy…” you whimper quietly, your hips rising slightly off the table to meet him, pull him deeper. And he does, quickly pressing his hips flush and filling you completely, so much so that your eyes roll back and you can hardly catch your breath when he starts to move. 

“Thas’ right, princess, good girl. Show daddy how much you missed him,” Joel coos out, putting a rough grip on your hips with his hands, hard and deep to try and leave marks as he holds you steady. You hear sounds of protests, muffled and distant, Bryant surely trying to cuss Joel out some more despite the gag in his mouth. 

“Eyes on me!” Joel shouts in Bryant’s direction, and upon hearing protest he continues to boom out his commanding voice into the room. “You want to live? Keep them open.”

You whimper as his anger sends him pounding faster into you and his grip even tighter. You’re jostled along the table, only able to take and take and take over and over again, choked out moans coming out each time he reaches deeper and his cock brushes along your g-spot. You grind your hips down a little, seeking friction on your clit, and Joel groans as he watches your ass wriggling below him with pleasure as he continues to fuck you harder. 

“Ain’t she pretty?” Joel comments, slowing his movements enough to speak clearly, although his breath is still labored. “So obedient to me, does every damn thing I say, tight little cunt only been touched by me…” Joel rambles on, clearly trying to get Bryant riled up. And it’s working - you hear him screaming behind the gag until his voice gives out, and you can practically picture him slumped in the chair, exhausted. But you don’t want to picture him, you want to picture Joel, trying to throw your head over your shoulder enough to get a glimpse of him. He’s high above you, stilted, rough movements sending his hair down onto his sweat coated forehead, but his eyes are on Bryant, smiling deliciously with satisfaction. He sees your head move out of the corner of his eye and takes a hand to press it back down onto the table, and you gasp at the roughness of everything all at once. 

“Ain’t that right, sweetheart? Daddy’s the only one who gets to do this,” he says, punctuating the sentence by pulling out far and slamming back into you, sending you wincing as you try to catch your breath. 

You moan, barely able to get out your words as you manage out a breathy, mousy little ‘yes daddy.’

You start to lose yourself, trying to stay grounded to the feel of Joel - his warm hands on you - one on your upper back and the other still anchored tight on your hip. His cock splitting you just like you’ve grown to love, taking away everything else in the room, in the entire world as you focus fully on the feeling. It helps as you try to block out the fact that you have an audience, the negative memories associated with the man who is now watching you writhe and moan pathetically underneath Joel. It almost starts to turn you on more once you start to think about it, picturing yourself from Bryant’s view - the sick, twisted feel of him watching what he’ll never have now that Joel is here, now that you’re safe. 

“That’s right, watch this - she’s gonna come so pretty all over me,” Joel spits out with a loud tut, admiring the way your cunt is taking him repeatedly. “Shame this all belongs to me, ain’t it?” Taunting him, Bryant only responds with a gagged noise again, and you can tell he’s given up completely, resigned himself to this fate. 

Joel’s attention refocuses on you, angling your hips and sending you completely over the edge, squeezing and fluttering around his already raw cock, and you can tell by Joel’s sloppy movements as he helps you ride your high that he’s close too. You can’t help how loud you moan out, having missed this, missed Joel so much, even though a part of you feels a squeeze of guilt for enjoying it under such dire circumstances. 

“Daddy… please… oh… daddy….” you whine and whimper as you come down, feeling like you could come again already, legs trembling as Joel completely loses control, his loud grunts almost matching the volume of your flesh slapping together. 

“Such a -“ he grunts “- good girl -“ His breathing picks up faster and faster, his noises more ragged and desperate. “F-fuck… take it, baby, take daddy’s cock.”

You feel yourself quivering, desperately reaching for that second high when it barrels through you suddenly just as Joel lets out a final groan, hips pressed flush to you as he spills himself inside your spent pussy. You twitch and mewl quietly as you come down along with him while he’s still inside, going soft as he pulls out. 

Joel grins over at Bryant, putting on a final show of gathering all his cum that’s quickly running out of you and carefully shoving it back inside you, pumping his fingers deep. You yelp and try to scoot, oversensitive and sore before Joel finally pulls out, gingerly tucking your dress back down over your ass. 

“Wait for me in the bathroom.” It’s a demand, and you’re far too exhausted to even think for yourself beyond his words, knowing that they’re what’s best for you, that Joel knows best. He’s drilled the mantra into your head too many times to even count now. So you do it, moving quickly to get off the table and scurry out of the room. You don’t bother to even look at Bryant as you pass, knowing it’ll be too much to see his bruised and bloody face, the fear in his eyes, and all because of you. Because of what you do to Joel. 

You scamper up the stairs, your shaky legs giving out halfway as you stumble your way down the hall, practically crawling on your hands and knees by the time you reach the bathroom. 

“She ain’t my daughter you dumb fuckin’ piece of sh -“ you hear Joel start to say in the distance, pushing the bathroom door closed before you can hear the sentence through, not sure you want to, anyways. 

Once you’re alone, it all hits you. Hard.

It’s like you’re reliving the memories of everything from the day, moving through your mind in fast and slow motion at once, repeating over and over. Bryant’s knife to your throat, the cuts he gave you that now start to burn as your adrenaline fades, the way he’d… felt when you knew what he wanted from you. The fear you’d had reeking off your body as he took what he wanted from you that now disgusts you as you come to terms with how close you came to something terrible. This was all your fault. You’d left yourself vulnerable, pushed Joel to let you go outside, gotten too comfortable with this as a sanctuary to ever imagine that…

You cry harder, barely having realized you’d started crying at all, your cheeks already soaked and streaky as you let it all out. Muffled sounds float their way up towards you, unable to hear what either man is saying now, loud sounds following that can be mistaken as nothing but more punches from Joel. You squeeze your eyes shut, begging for it to all stop, for it to have been a bad dream, your hands flying up to your ears to cover them in a desperate attempt to block it all out. 

You flinch when you hear the singular gunshot.

Heavy silence follows, a scream climbing its way up your throat, but you make no sound at all, choked down by your sobs and the way your body starts to shut down, completely overwhelmed. You’re alone for a long time, shadows and light coming in through the small window changing, before you feel his embrace covering you. You hadn’t heard him coming, his warm arms surprising you where you sat on the floor, wrapped up in yourself and your mind far, far away. 

“It’s me, it’s me,” Joel says, attempting to reassure you when you jump and start to squirm, but your body just shakes, making Joel pull you tight against him. You slump down, and Joel lets you, hanging on as you unfurl your taut, tense muscles, sore from being locked into place in your uncomfortable position as you slide further and further down, curling yourself into his chest and lap.

“God damn it…” he murmurs against the top of your head, where he has his face buried, lips taking up residence there with gentle kisses over and over. “Could’ve lost you, princess,” he says, so quiet it’s almost like it’s just to himself, the disbelief in his voice making you start to cry all over again. Joel sits, still and patient with you just like that, hanging on for dear life, shushing you until you’re hiccuping on the way down from your sobs.

“I-I- I broke the rules, daddy…” you finally blubber out, your first words in what feels like forever, your throat scratchy and dry as the words are pushed out of your chapped lips. “I-I- the collar…”

“It’s right here, shh, my darlin’, it’s right here,” Joel says with growing sympathy, his own words sounding slightly choked up as he traces his fingers over the leather, tugging lovingly on it, hoping the movement will bring you back. Something familiar, he thinks, the way he always touches the skin right above the band, reminding you who you belong to. 

You hardly seem to hear him as you continue sniveling incoherently. “A-and I s-swore… daddy I’m sorry… I s-swore at him…” you sob, your stomach tight with nerves and anxiety, worried that your confession will only make things worse for you.

Joel’s breath of laughter rocks you to your core, your perpetually closed, tearful eyes now snapping open, blinking as you get a bleary vision of the world back - the faded pink walls of the bathroom, Joel’s knees and legs stretched out in front of you. Joel can’t help but let out the tension with his chuckle, picturing you cursing out Bryant, feisty like he’s never seen you before. “Oh, honey, honey, my sweet thing…” Joel coos with a hand starting to stroke your cheek. “Thas’ okay, that’s alright, daddy isn’t worried about it. I’m only worried about you, sweetheart.”

You sniffle, taking a quiet moment to get your bearings and process his words. “R-really…? Even t-though I - I messed up?”

“Really really,” Joel says, tucking a hand under your cheek to turn your face to look up at him. It’s the first time you’ve really seen him and it makes you gasp, inhaling sharply as you take in his weathered features - exhaustion overtaking his eyes, dark circles abounding, the dried blood smeared across his face. You well up again at the sight and Joel quickly shushes you, shaking his head.

“Daddy…” you say, your voice breaking as you reach up to touch his face, the blood already dry and flaking off onto your fingers, making you flinch back. You catch his hand on its way from your face, and start to inspect it as you look at his large fingers wrapping around yours. More blood, more pain and suffering, his knuckles already deep, dark shades of red and purple. “Y-you need help… your hands…”

“I’ll be okay, sweetheart. Daddy’ll take care of it,” he says, starting to put on his brave, practical face for you again. You start to sit up, shaking your head softly, grasping both of his hands in yours as you sit next to him.

“Please… let me help…” you say in a whisper, bringing your forehead against his, sighing when his warm skin meets yours. “Please…” 

Joel says nothing, as good of a yes as you’ll get from him right now, so you pull back, moving to stand up on your exhausted, shaky legs. A washcloth from the cabinet under the sink is soon running under warm water and being brought down to him, settling on your knees next to him as you cautiously dab at his knuckles. He barely makes a sound, a tiny twitch at the start the only indication that it phased him at all, hurt him. You bring your lips down and flutter them along each knuckle, and it makes his chest physically ache, watching you take care of him. It wasn’t supposed to be like this - it was never supposed to be so… fucking soft.

“You didn’t mess up,” Joel stutters out into the silence. “You shouldn’t say that, blossom.”

You just hang your head, focusing on his hands, watching the washcloth stain to reveal his now clean cuts and bruises. 

“You know the rules, baby: you answer when I’m speakin’ to you,” he says half heartedly with a sigh, sounding tired. His free hand runs over his eyes, wiping at his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose for a brief second. 

“I did, though,” you say softly, beginning to work on his other hand as you continue to avoid his eyeline. He quickly pulls it away and out of your grip, your hands falling to your lap before Joel grips your face, forcing you to look at him.

“Hey hey, you listen to me. He would’ve come either way, okay? You didn’t do anythin’ wrong. Cut that shit out right now,” Joel says, just the right amount of tough love to get you to snap out of it slightly, starting to believe his words. 

“O-okay, daddy,” you reply softly, leaning your cheek one way to press into his hand, almost nuzzling him. He leans forward, kissing your forehead with a gentle touch, another tiny part of your soul healed from his actions. 

“You gotta get cleaned up, c’mon,” Joel says, inspecting your body, dried cum between your legs, the blood on your skin and dirt covering your dress. When you look down to see what he sees, your eyes fill with fresh tears - Joel’s favorite dress, and subsequently your favorite as well, stained with grass and dirt and blood, a complete mess all over the once pristine, white fabric. 

“Y-your favorite…” you whimper, “It’s ruined,” you sob, not having intended to break down again as you fall into Joel’s arms. He helps you to your feet, dusting you off and looking at you with determination.

“We’ll clean it. Promise we’ll get it back to normal,” Joel says, his eyes soft with so much sympathy for you, for the little details you’re choosing to focus on, just wanting to please him, to look out for him. One arm still wrapped around you, he turns the water in the shower on, letting it warm up as he starts from the bottom hem, pulling your dress over your body. You feel so exposed but safe at the same time as he takes you in, eyes roaming your body with care, inspecting you. 

“In,” he commands, and you step over the rim of the tub. Joel isn’t far behind you, stripping down his layers and joining you under the steaming water. The discolored water circles down, and you silently pray it’ll wash all of this away, somehow make today all better by the time this shower is over. You know, you know it’s silly, it’s the wishful thinking of a child, but maybe if you two stayed in here forever, you’d never have to face the aftermath.

You look down and touch one of the cuts on your shoulders as it burns from the water, Joel’s gaze following down and brow wrinkling immediately, his breath tight in his chest as he holds it there. He’s fighting to stay calm, to give you what you need right now, knowing that his anger will be best taken out somewhere else later. He’ll find a project, wood to chop, a gun to shoot, anything but show that side to you when you least need to see it. His fists tremble as they sit tight at his sides, a shaky exhale making its way out. 

“Is it… gonna scar?” you ask in a hushed whisper. “Will I have to…remember?”

Joel’s tension falls, gathering you up in his arms again, kissing your shoulder right next to the gash. “Maybe, sweetheart. It might,” he tells you honestly. “But you don’t have to remember right now, okay?” he says next to your ear, the familiar rumble making you melt into him a bit.

“W-what did you do to him?” you finally spit out, the question having lingered heavily on your mind since he walked into the bathroom. You aren’t stupid, you aren’t clueless, you know what the gunshot had to mean, but you wanted to hear it from Joel to fulfill some sick curiosity.

“I took care of it,” Joel replies simply, a little cold in the delivery. He hadn’t told you about the blood, all the god damned blood. The floor, the chair, the table, the wall all scrubbed clean and placed neatly back into place, like nothing had ever happened. The body he’d had to haul out into the woods - far enough you’d never come across it and have to remember the piece of dirt who you owed zero of your mental space to. That knife that was wiped clean - what you deserved, not your blood coating it for all of eternity - tossed out in the woods with the body. It was over.

You just nod, seeming to pick up on any hidden meanings Joel had snuck into his sentence, leaving it at that, wondering if you’d ever even want to know the gory details. Joel kisses your cut again, finding the ones on your neck, giving them the same treatment. His eyes rake over your entire body, his face pinched in concentration as he searches for more evidence of his failure, wanting to somehow repent for each little mark you now had to live with. Your left shoulder, right shoulder, then he crouches down to your legs, water rushing over his body as he presses his lips to one thigh at a time, each of the several gashes that he’s thankful don’t seem so deep you’ll need any of his shitty stiching work. It no longer feels like worship to him, but a begging of forgiveness that he knows he can never give himself, even if you do. His desperation quickly forms to anger, his skin suddenly too hot underneath the shower, that comfortable feeling of rage for him simmering closer to a boil now. 

The sniffle brings him back, your distant, puffy eyes leaking again at his slow, reverent expression of care on a body you’re not sure you want to be inside of anymore. He gazes up, lips still plastered to your skin, blinking the water away as you just stare down at him, your expression a mixture of amazement and despondence, unsure of what you need from him.

“It’s all over,” Joel murmurs a bit robotically against your wet skin before standing to meet you again, tentatively leaning downwards, his lips inching towards yours, testing the waters. He surprises even himself, knowing he’d just been buried to the hilt inside of you not long ago under much more intense circumstances, but you look fragile, like you’re hollow now, and he can’t stand the thought of hurting you further. He doesn’t know why he’s doing it, nothing to give you but his body now when his mind is so fucked beyond repair at the only thought that keeps screaming out at him in punishment: you could have lost her. 

Unaware, your eyelids flutter shut and you tilt your head to accommodate him, a shy, apprehensive press of your lips to his. You feel butterflies bloom in your stomach, almost like you’re kissing him again for the first time before he pulls back and just holds you close, letting you listen to his heartbeat with an ear pressed close to his bare chest. It all still feels like a dream that Joel is here, and listening to his strong heartbeat only adds to your sense of wonder at him, what he was capable of today. 

It’s simply starting to burst out of you, all the feelings you have for this man with nowhere to place them, no way to fully show your appreciation to him. The words leave your lips at the same time they pass through your mind. “…I love you,” you speak out softly, shy as you’ve ever been but melding your body a little closer to his to let it do the extra talking for you. 

You expect a magical moment to follow, one where everything falls into place - your knight in shining armor who saved your life to transform into the fairy tales you’ve been reading about in these books that Joel relentlessly teases you for with rolls of his eyes. Your heart hammers in your chest, readying yourself to hear his voice reply the same to you in earnest. Everything would be good again - yes, just like the books - beautiful, shining, and colorful. Your happily ever after.

But instead, the silence that follows grows louder than anything he’s ever said, swallowing the entire room in its tense nothingness as Joel only stiffens against you, not bothering to say a word.

smother - part xi: dawning

dark!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: an onslaught of feelings in the wake of your attack may change the course of your relationship with joel forever. defeat seems imminent, but you're determined not to give up. 12.5k words. chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI! dubcon - stockholm syndrome, innocent reader, big juicy age gap (reader is 19, joel is 55), ddlg/daddy dom! joel, sub!reader, ANGST, unprotected piv, joel is not nice during sex, dacryphilia if you squint, reader is referred to as a pet, reader wears a collar, reader has hair and outfits are described. if these darker tags aren't your cup of tea please keep scrolling! a/n: oof. this one hurt you guys. but i think this may be the thing i've written i'm most proud of, at least for this story thus far. i made two people tear up who haven't even read the story just by telling them some parts and lines from this chapter. SO ANYWAY. ENJOY HA HA

F-fuck, yeah that’s it, take it, take it.

You can hardly hear the words through the rushing in your ears, uttered in grunts from above you. Your face is pressed deep into the mattress, shoved down with Joel’s thick hand pressing on top of it, so when you’re finally able to turn it just enough underneath his grasp, you suck in a deep, rasping breath, desperate for it. 

“Poor baby needs to breathe, don’t she?” he taunts as he splits you open - relentless, over and over with his thick girth that you still can’t ever seem to get used to. Your mouth lays open against the sheets, drool slipping out of the edge of your parted lips laced with moans and pooling underneath as you attempt a nod against his all encompassing hand against your head. 

“Please,” you squeak out before your head is yanked to the side, giving Joel more of a view of your side profile.

“Go on then, let daddy hear you,” Joel clips from above, his hips moving at an unrelenting pace on top of your flattened body, only your hips popped up a tiny bit at Joel’s coaxing. You can only whimper as your fingers dig into the sheets - you want nothing more than to slump down and fall asleep now, your body feeling frayed around the edges, a deep tiredness within you. Joel has made you come two times now with his relentless fucking, asking for a third before he decides to fill you. 

He’s craving the validation, the security of having your mind so transfixed and filled with nothing but him. A string of begging leaves your mouth, daddy please over and over cried out that only makes Joel harder, more determined on his mission. 

He changes the pace, rolling his hips slowly and with more purpose, the inward thrust starting to hit that perfect spot inside of you. And just as he wanted, you come for the third time, more incoherent and pathetic than the last two, barely even remembering Joel’s cock stuffing you right after and coming hard with a grunt. 

He’s gone before you even get your bearings, your eyes a drooping mess as you pass out right there, face down on the mattress. 

Joel hasn’t been the same since the incident. He’s changed, like you saw a switch flip, a man completely shift directions mid journey. He’d been so tender right after, but once the two of you stepped out of that shower, you saw it in his eyes - the panic turned to coldness, the softness turned back to stone. His touch is harder now, not sparing extra niceties even at your most intimate moments. It feels like he’s reverted to some shell of himself, more like when you’d first met him but even more reserved, somehow. He’s so rough with you, eyes barely able to meet yours anymore when he touches you, like he might have to remember what he almost lost if he glimpses your innocent stare. 

Joel doesn’t sleep much anymore, either. You wake to find the bed cold and untouched if you stir in the night, sighing as that pit of sadness grows inside of you, the one you’d tried to keep at bay, the one that Joel had succeeded at pushing away for you before him. You’ve had a few nightmares, ones that you didn’t tell Joel about, ones that he wasn’t here to witness because he never is now. He’s all hawk eyes and vigilance lately, his body tense and unable to relax despite how hard you try to help him. He’ll come fuck you to sleep most nights, making sure he pulls enough mind numbing orgasms out of you to send you passing out quickly after so he can leave again, back to his post. 

It’s quiet and dark in the room when you wake up alone tonight, and you’re starting to despise this feeling of missing someone right in the same home with you. So within reach, but so far away. He’s left you a glass of water and a washcloth, a vaguely kind gesture in lieu of the way he usually takes care of you after being so rough, but you know he wants you to drink it, so you chug it down in gulps, finding your mouth was dry, anyways. 

You hope the extra loud creak of that third step down doesn’t alarm Joel from where he is, but you see no movement from through the front door, so you continue down and through the kitchen. The burst of cool air and faint noise of crickets, so calming opposed to the war within you, hits you all at once as you step onto the front porch. Joel glances over at you with tired, hard eyes, rifle laid across his lap where he sits in the large, wooden rocker off to the side. His eyes rake over you, that knit blanket from the bedroom in your arms and another one of your sheer white gowns on that catches in the subtle breeze that blows by. 

“Hi daddy,” you say timidly, approaching him with cautious steps on your bare feet across the planks of the porch. You sink down in front of him, between his legs, peering up at him for approval that he doesn’t give you. 

“You should be in bed,” Joel says plainly, reaching a hand towards you out of habit, but it only lands on your head, barely moving. The touch sends a jolt through you still, so starved for his usual love and care, the way he would look at you like the most perfect pet when you sat between his legs like this. His eyes only look down towards you for a split second before going back to scan the dark surroundings, nothing even truly visible with the amount of pure night you get up here from such untouched land. Not a soul nearby, just the way Joel likes it. 

“I know,” you reply just as plainly, scooting and shifting until you’re in the right spot before gingerly laying your head onto Joel’s left thigh, nuzzling your cheek down and finding his usual softness taut and rigid. It smells like him, smells like home - a little dirty, that earthy, heady smell of him that clings to his clothes. “I can’t sleep either.”

“Hm,” Joel mutters, and you don’t fail to notice the way his eyes blink shut a little too long, a soft sigh coming out at the feeling of your cheek against his leg. He loves this feeling, but right now he won’t let himself, can’t let himself. “Bad dream?”

You give a small shake your head against where it lays. “Not today. Just don’t like sleeping without you.”

Joel just grumbles again, a poor excuse for why he’s forcing himself to stay up, torturing himself with tired, bloodshot eyes that are looking for something that isn’t going to show up. The threat is gone, thanks to him, and has been gone for two weeks now with no sign of anyone else coming along. Joel had been rightfully worried at first that maybe Bryant would have friends looking for him, or someone who had followed him here and wanted to have a crack at you or Joel too, vengeance for a beloved friend. But it had been full radio silence, the woods barely rustling beyond the usual wildlife. You felt fully at ease again knowing your protector was home, so why couldn’t Joel accept that?

“Daddy…” you say softly, reaching up to touch his hand, held tightly against the stock of the rifle. It doesn’t twitch, doesn’t respond and the resistance from him pulls at your already sinking heart. “Will you please come to bed?”

Joel finally lets something through, a small twitch of his lips that shows some sympathy towards you, knowing this treatment isn’t fair, that you’ve noticed how different things are now. “Not yet, maybe in a bit.” You know it’s a lie, something he’s already said before on these sleepless nights only for it to be far from the truth. “Head on inside, you’re gonna catch cold or somethin’.”

You don’t have any intention of doing what he says, though, pointedly wrapping the blanket around your shoulders, letting it cover most of your top half as you tuck yourself closer and get comfortable. “I’ll just sit with you for a minute, daddy, then I’ll go in, promise.”

He doesn’t respond at first, not even to chide you for not following an order from him - he’s let more and more small things slip while somehow being more controlling than ever. Before the attack, you’d felt more freedom to roam, to find your own ways to occupy yourself throughout the day, even if Joel wasn’t in your immediate space. But now each moment of your day is more at his mercy, as he often has you either completely glued to his side or leashed up in the bedroom, tied to the furniture, anywhere he chooses, really. But for how much he’s held you close these recent days, you’ve also been pushed away - most days Joel refuses to talk much at all, even at your endless prompting that you’d soon given up on. Every time he does speak a sentence longer than a few words, you feel your heart race, excitement flowing through your veins that maybe you’ll get the old Joel back, even if it’s in small pieces at a time.

Joel’s head shakes above you and you frown. “Inside, now.”

“Daddy, just -“ you start to beg before his hand falls off the rifle and grasps at your chin, lifting you off of his leg.

“I’m bein’ so god damned serious right now, blossom. I don’t have the patience for this,” he snips with a quick rub of his eyes as he drops your chin, landing a pinch along the bridge of his nose. His exhaustion is more than clear on his features, in his gravelly voice that barely has any energy left to give out even to scold you.

You try not to let the thoughts win, pushing them away over and over, but part of you wonders if this has more to do with your confession in the shower than Joel would let on. He hadn’t spoken a word, just directing you to leave the shower, dry off, and head to the bedroom before following behind you and holding you until you fell asleep in the bed, taking a restless, much needed nap until the evening light came in. When you woke up, he was gone, starting the series of events that led you here, to where he feels more distant than ever.

If he didn’t love you… you could live with that. You could understand that. Maybe it wasn’t ever meant to be that way - he’d never tried to hide what you were to him, making it clear over and over that he owned you, and does a man really love property in the way you’d meant it when you uttered the words to him? It didn’t change how you’d felt in that moment, so close to him, so safe and well taken care of, all of the promises by him fulfilled. The man you’d known when you said those words had been so softened, providing you with a life you found worth living for the first time, freedoms you’d never been allowed before, eyes open to the ways of the world. Having that torn away, lost and wondering how to get him back, had slowly broken your heart over the last few weeks. But just like you’d needed Joel all those months ago, he needs you now. If you’d meant what you said - if you really do love him - you could stay by his side until he came back to you. If he ever did.

“Daddy, but -“ you try to protest, your voice giving out on you into a little croak as you grasp at his legs, hauling yourself closer to him.

“Your ass in bed. Now,” he grunts back, his voice picking up as he huffs, leaning forward to move you off of where your hands cling to his upper thighs, those teary eyes of yours silently breaking his heart. He pushes it down, the lump he swallows down day after day becoming larger, more unbearable to weather. But it’s what’s best for you, after all. It was too close, too soft now, you were both too… fucking vulnerable for his liking. Love shouldn’t be like this, it should be hard and rough and a reminder not to get too close because you could lose it all the next day. 

You wipe the one tear that spills as soon as it rolls over the edge of your waterline, sniffling and squaring your shoulders. When you stand, gathering the blanket in your hands, you look down at him with a renewed determination that makes Joel’s heart sink again. You weren’t going to stop anytime soon, you weren’t going to make this easy on him. You never had, even without trying. 

“Good night daddy,” you tell him quietly before turning on your heel and softly clicking the cabin door shut behind you. 

You persevere. The next two days remain the same - Joel losing himself to his work, patrolling the area along the woods while you find a way to occupy your own restless mind. But you’re feeling more tenacious and stubborn than you have in days, seeing the tiny glimpse of hope in his eyes that made you do the exact same steps down to the porch over and over again when you awoke to an empty bed in the nights that followed. It was always the same scene - Joel, chair, rifle, tension in the air as you sit between his legs again. He always sends you away, back to bed, more weary each time he does, but tonight you’ve adamantly decided you’re not going to let him. Punishment be damned, you will break Joel, you will crack back through to his soft center. 

“We’re doin’ this again?” Joel asks with a scowl, his knuckles going white on his grip around the rifle. The only thing he hates more than your disobedience is the fact that your obvious plan to continue on until he gives in to you is working on him.

Your cheek nuzzles against his scratchy denim, feline in your movements as you practically purr against him, pointedly breathing in his scent for him to see. “Yes, daddy, we are,” you murmur as you finally rest your cheek high on his thigh, a hand coming to trace along the o-ring on your collar. “Can’t sleep well without you now, you know that.”

Joel’s dark eyes are transfixed on your gentle fingers, the way they rhythmically follow along the circle before hooking into it, repeating the pattern as you watch his jaw tick. “I know,” he says plainly, sighing. “Doesn’t mean y’should be out here.”

“Doesn’t it?” you ask pointedly, unsure of where this newfound bravery is even coming from, realizing by the narrowing of Joel’s eyes that you’re toeing a dangerous line now. What daddy says goes. Do not question him. The rules written on the paper stuck to the fridge floats through your mind before you push it away again, remembering what you’re risking to behave this way. 

“You think you’re makin’ decisions around here now?” Joel huffs, a small roll of his bloodshot eyes as they make their way back out into the darkness. “Keep dreamin’, little one,” he adds with a scoff, sending your brows furrowing with frustration. 

You know what you always have - that sass and wayward unruliness are never going to get you anywhere with Joel. He’s not interested in how much you could challenge him, he never has been. He’s only ever wanted one thing: your complete submission. But this time, you just can’t let it go, not another night alone, another day of the same distance between the two of you. 

“Just… I… miss you, daddy,” you blurt out, yielding to him as you feel your face fall, brows softening as you peer up at him with desperation.

His eyes narrow further, a long pause as you can see his gears turning, contemplating just how far he should give in. “Fine. Ten minutes,” he finally says, instantly back to staring out at his surroundings, scanning along the property. You smile slyly and wrap the blanket around yourself, hunkering down, content to just see the rise and fall of his chest, to feel the warmth of him close to you in a moment of your choosing, not his. It’s a beautiful night, the stars glittering in the sky beyond the two of you, making you feel so tiny, your problems so small in the grand scheme of things, and yet they hurt with a passion you’ve never known before.

You don’t even realize you’ve dozed off until the tender scratch of fingers on your scalp pulls you awake, your entire body stiff and aching as it’s slumped uncomfortably against Joel. You blink your bleary eyes to be met with the underside of his bearded chin, his eyes still trained on the outside world, looking lost in thought. You feel an extra weight, his jacket draped across your shoulders, and the smell is intoxicating, wishing you could carry it with you everywhere, always. You’re not even sure how he’d taken it off without waking you, making you wonder just how sleep deprived you were as well that you’d been that far gone to not have felt anything.

Joel senses your stirring, tearing his eyes off the shadowy woods beyond and down to you, where you murmur a sleepy noise against his leg, picking your head up and swapping it to the other thigh, wanting to stretch your neck the other way.

“Mm-mm,” Joel chides roughly, seeing you try to get comfortable again with your tired, heavy eyes. “Bedtime. That was more than ten minutes already.”

“Pl-” you choke out, feeling disappointment crash over you at how much this is starting to go in the same direction as it had last night.

“No, baby,” Joel interrupts with that same harsh tone, his eyes seeming to remember their place, hardening on you. “Can’t have this becomin’ a thing, you’re gonna hurt yourself layin’ on me like that.”

“Please…” you say, not wanting to have to utter it again, knowing he knows exactly what you mean. Please come to bed with me. I need you there. More than that, I just want you there. You hope your eyes convey what you can’t, blinking slow and sad in his direction. He sighs, his shoulders sagging downwards, and he looks more weary than ever, pure exhaustion on every feature. His hand moves, picking your head up off of his thigh and cupping your cheek. This may be the longest he’s held eye contact with you in weeks, and you don’t dare break it, wanting to read him, see if his thoughts are somehow discernible through his dark eyes.

“Okay,” he says in a low mutter, eyes finally breaking from yours, not getting to see the relief wash over your features, the way your mouth hangs open a little in surprise before you close it, not wanting to ruin such a delicate moment. You stand, watching as Joel starts to move past you, carrying the rifle in one hand, putting the other on the small of your back. It sends you shivering as you two step into the warmth of the house and upstairs, neither of you saying a word. You stand next to your side of the bed, eyes glued cautiously to where Joel sits on the edge of his, still not moving to lay down despite making it this far. 

You know you should strip down, one of Joel’s rules for you, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care when you crawl into bed still wearing your gown, moving on hands and knees over to where his back is facing you and hesitating for a moment, heart beating wildly in your chest. What will he think, if you comfort him now? If you touch him? Will he be angry with you for exposing his weakness?

You kneel behind his back, slipping your arms around the front of him, past his shoulders as your hands glide down and interlock together across his chest.

“You’re so tired, daddy, please…” you say weakly, begging the sudden onslaught of hot tears to stop prickling at your eyeballs. You don’t even know what you’re begging him for at this point, but the plea rises up from your swirling gut, sick with anxiety and fear for the future, for your future with Joel.

The tired grumble that follows is confirmation of his exhaustion, and when your hands move, rubbing along his chest in sweeping strokes, the hum that escapes Joel finally shows a crack in the wall he’s built up. You keep the movements feather light, afraid of breaking the moment before it’s even had a chance to truly flourish. The tension is thick in the air, your breath held in tightly as you wait for the inevitable end, for Joel to shrug you off, to push you away again. 

But it doesn’t happen.

“Feels nice, honey,” Joel murmurs instead, slightly slurring and sounding more relaxed than you’ve heard him in ages. You slowly release your breath, his pleasure spurring you on to keep doing the soothing movements, starting to circle his pecs slowly and carefully with your fingertips.

“Please…” you whisper, hands coming up to his shoulders and rubbing. You place your nose to the back of his head and breathe in deeply, filling your lungs with him, pretending this moment is in another place, different circumstances where things don’t feel so strained and stretched right now. 

Joel starts to shift, his body moving sideways to lay down, bringing you with him, a strange sense of victory coursing through you as he curls up onto his pillow. You don’t dare speak, call it out, though, not wanting to break the fragility of the moment, the brittle little thing it is. 

“Sh-should be the one… holding you…” Joel mumbles, the words coming lazily off his lips as his eyes stay shut, his body turning slightly to try to comfort you instead.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, working soothing ministrations along his chest, your arms trapped where they hold him. “I want you to sleep.” 

The tiniest noise of protest leaves his lips before they sputter out on you, his jaw going slack, the rise and fall of his chest slowly evening out until he’s snoring softly. Your eyes grow wide, watching him carefully, not daring to move before you smile softly, a rare occurrence these days. Several moments pass of the same, steady movements from his chest, his body completely limp otherwise under where you’re curled up to him. 

He’s asleep.

His eyes are the first thing you notice when you wake up. Not that they’re open, but that they’re still gently shut, fluttering softly with his dreams that you pray are treating him well. You’re almost in disbelief that last night really happened, that he’s still asleep, still… here.

You’ve moved in the night, arms free now but still snuggled up close to him, and the urge comes in swiftly to touch him, to study his face as you do on the rare occasions you actually get to watch Joel sleep. Your hand, reaching up to the spot you know he has that little dimple when he deigns to give you a smile, the lines next to it showing his age but you find that you cherish them more and more the longer you know him. You love that they have history, days of his that you can’t even dream of, lives he’s lived before this one with you. You wonder what secrets all these lines, nooks, and crannies hold of him, the person he was before the Outbreak, even before he met you - were they so different? 

When your finger lightly traces along his scruffy, rugged cheek to take him in, Joel flinches and you immediately regret it. His body jolts out of his sleep with a harsh inhale of air, his chest starting to heave slightly. “Wh-” he calls out before his blurry eyes take in his surroundings, alerting him of his safety and yours. 

“I-it’s me, I’m sorry, daddy,” you say mousily, lip caught between your teeth with a fresh wave of fear. 

“Oh, did I - sh-shit…” he grumbles, clearly displeased that he’s fallen asleep, that there’s been a period of time that you’re awake and he’s not been there for you, stepped in as your eyes and ears.

“You got some sleep, that’s what you needed daddy,” you tell him, your sweet voice with that hint of grogginess still lacing it starting to calm him. 

Joel’s body slumps down a little, the rigid muscles quickly going back to relaxed. His hand wipes down his face, clearing the sleep from his eyes. “I…” he sighs, readying to have some retort, some complaint for you telling him what he needs. But he can’t deny the simple and true fact that you were right - he had slept better last night than he had in days, running on no rest only increasing his misery, his poor treatment of you. That same misery he’d convinced himself he deserved, that he wasn’t sure he should have lifted from him just yet until he’d been punished enough. He blinks a few times before meeting your eyes with his. “You’re right, blossom. Daddy needed that.”

The small smile that you grace him with is enough. To get him out of bed today, to show you that he can be a better man, one deserving of those soft touches, that care you’d poured out onto him last night. When he smiles back it’s just a soft twitch of his lips but it meets his eyes, some of the shadows clouding them whisked away for the moment.

“Thank you.”

You feel your cheeks heat, warmth spreading at his blatant display of gratitude that’s so out of character for him that it sends you almost stammering. “You- you’re welcome, daddy,” you say, stunned. 

He grunts, shifting to press his lips to your forehead, your entire body wanting to shudder at the recently missing tenderness suddenly being shown to you. Your eyes close, a shaky inhale cut short when Joel rolls over onto his back. You can’t help but stare and study him, wondering what version of him you’re going to get today, gazing at him with trepidation and fear. It was a good start to the day, and an even better end to the night last night, but you know it’s naïve to expect things to change this drastically overnight. 

“What?” Joel asks, instantly cringing a little at how harsh his voice comes out. You scamper back a little and quickly avert your eyes, feeling your cheeks flash hot at the way he’d caught you staring. 

“N-nothing, I don’t know,” you stumble out, busying your hands in front of your chest, then threading them together over your belly. Joel catches the fiddling movements, sighing and sitting up onto his elbows, turning to look down at where you lay. 

“What is it? Out with it,” he urges you with an impatient wave of his hand. 

“Just… well… you were being nice,” you say timidly, flicking your eyes his way and biting the inside of your lip anxiously. 

“And I’m not, usually? That what you’re saying?” Raised, tight knit brows, one of Joel’s first warning signs you’re moving towards thin ice, send your heart skipping a beat and speeding up inside your chest. 

You swallow hard, wishing to sink yourself into the mattress, away from this mess you’ve found yourself in. “Daddy…” you whimper helplessly, “You know what I mean… right? If you’re gonna be more… like you used to be today?”

He lets out a mirthless chuckle, shaking his head. “I’m doin’ what I’ve got to do to keep us safe, now. If you have a problem with it I’m not sure what to tell you, sweetheart.”

Your mouth opens and closes a few times, fists balling as you sit yourself up. “I just… want you to talk to me, daddy. Shouldn’t we…? Y’know, talk about it?”

“There’s nothin’ to talk about. I let things go too far, things were too… too comfortable,” he says, the word spat off his tongue almost like it disgusts him. You feel the bed dip with his weight moving off of it as he stands up. How could it be such a bad thing, being comfortable with each other? He rubs a hand over his sleepy face, still tired eyes looking a little less bloodshot as they gaze thoughtfully down at the floor.

“Look, ‘m sorry, baby,” he says, rubbing his hands together, remorse washing over him. “We’ll have a good day today, yeah? Just… rest, blossom. I’ll make breakfast,” Joel says, his sad eyes glued to where you lay under the blankets, curled up right as he left you, like he could still see the outline of where you fit into him so perfectly. It hurts, it fucking hurts, his mind yells as he tears his eyes away and leaves the room. He’d promised himself last night that he would try today, but the sight of you in bed this morning runs circles in his hazy head as he tries to put together something to eat. Thinking of you, looking at you, being near you brings him a pain he’s never imagined he could feel again. He’s only able to see the hurt, the way he’d failed to protect what he’d vowed to. All he’d ever been good for, and yet he failed. Again. Again. Again.

Christ, you deserved better than what he was giving you right now. All to protect himself from the pain, not thinking of you at all. Half assed comments, a lover barely able to look you in the eye while he fucks you, while you pass him in the now haunted rooms of this cabin. You deserved everything. All the things he was giving you before, the softness and domesticity, that life didn’t belong to him, it never could. The sooner you could understand that, the better. He vows to do better today though, even if it’s just budging an inch in the right direction, making it that much less hard to look at you without seeing every way he has and could ever fail. Vowing to stop pushing you away, making that dejected look flicker through your pretty eyes every time he does. Better, Joel, do better. She is yours to care for.

The right thing to do is to let you go, he’s known that for a long time, but his stomach lurches at the thought of passing you along to somewhere else. Someone else. A selfish man, proclaiming it and never denying the fact, even to himself, that while there were many ways he gave things up, sacrificed for others, you were never going to be one of those things.

So instead of further contemplating the weight of this small world the two of you live in, he just makes you oatmeal. 

“I was thinkin’...” Joel says, fingers scratching over his beard as he sets his spoon down with a tiny clink. He looks slightly contemplative, almost nervous, a rare emotion for Joel Miller to express. “There’s some things ready to harvest today, if you wanna help me out. Then Willow needs a good brushin’ an’ caring an’ all that, so…” He clears his throat, tired, dewy eyes glancing up and hoping to hold your stare. 

The spoon hauling the oats to your mouth pauses mid-air, your eyes snapping up to his and then back down to the bowl full of your beige breakfast. “O-oh…?” you question, finally taking your bite. You’re hesitant, unsure of how you feel about this sudden change in Joel’s demeanor based on the roller coaster he’s already put you on this morning. You’ve been managing your expectations, dampening your hopes for weeks, and despite the recent breakthroughs you’d had with him, you don’t want to assume anything and wind up getting hurt. You have to remind yourself to respond, to not waste this precious offer you’re receiving. “Yes, daddy, that sounds nice. I haven’t been in the garden much lately.” 

Typically you two gardened together, some of the only work around the house Joel prefers to let you help with. You have many fond memories of gabbing the days away out there with him, hearing the limited stories from his past, him getting to know more about you while you planted and tended to the sweet little seeds you’d hoped to grow, watching them over time become a bountiful harvest for your home together. As with most other aspects of your usual life lately, Joel had pushed you out, or decided to patrol the area while you gardened for a bit on your own, but you missed the carefree days in the dirt with him. This gave you a tiny bit of hope that maybe you were getting even an ounce of that back. 

He gives you a strained smile, nodding before having another bite. “Well there’s lots we can take care of out there today, so eat up.”

You feel an eagerness building, a flutter in your belly that you haven’t felt in ages, excited to spend time with Joel today, praying it wasn’t just a one off that his attitude seemed to be shifting. Maybe a good night's rest was the start of something new. 

“Daddy…?” you ask quietly as you place your dish in the sink, turning to where he’s already started to rinse them. “C-could I put on some pants before we go out? Last time I, er, hurt my knees… in the dress… and I don’t want any stains.”

Joel looks you up and down, taking in the shorter gown you’re wearing, one of the ones you typically wear at night or to throw on in the morning after rolling out of bed. It was a bad choice for gardening, he had to agree with you. “You’ve got plenty of longer dresses,” he says after a long, thoughtful beat, clearly not pleased. Something about you outside in the sunshine, wearing the pretty dresses he’d hand picked for you got to him, and selfishly he needed the boost today. 

Your face falls for a split second before you pull it back together, nodding with your lips pressed into a tight smile. “Is the yellow one okay? With the cute little flowers?” you meekly ask before you see him give an approving nod. Again, selfishly, Joel is thrilled with your pick, the chest on that particular dress dipping in a low scoop neck that made him salivate every time he saw it on you, the glimpses he’d get from watching you bent over in the garden already exciting him. 

“Thank you, sir,” you say, excusing yourself to change. 

And god, are you a vision in it, Joel thinks as you traipse down the stairs, heading to put your boots on, following him over to where the light spills in as Joel opens the back door for you two to step right out into the garden, the day welcoming you two with open, sunny arms. Spring in Wyoming truly has been a treat, and this clear day seems to instantly lift both of your spirits, Joel’s slight smile as you two get to work making your chest squeeze a little tighter with hope. 

He’s still quiet, contemplative as his hands work on auto pilot, harvesting some of your freshly grown berries while you work the watering can, but his aura shines brighter, the dark cloud hanging over him looking a little less intimidating to conquer today. It still has your stomach in knots, the lack of surety and security you have right now, feet planted on the edge of the cliff that is Joel, rocks ready to slip out from under you at any moment. You glance over to check in on him every so often, trying to read his mood, but it only serves to make him seem more tense every time he catches your stare and sees you hurriedly looking away like a scared little animal. He surprises even himself, knowing typically he’d enjoy your fear, eat it up like a starved man, but today, it’s grating on him. 

Joel stops, dropping his hands and placing one on his hip. “The hell is going on with you?” he asks, an edge in his voice that makes your cheeks flash hot. You hold the watering can in front of you and stare downwards at it. 

“Are we okay, daddy?” you ask pointedly, shoulders sagging downwards as your voice drops. “D-did I do something wrong?” you dare to ask, the question you’d already convinced yourself of the answer to - a loud and clear yes, this was all your fault, all your doing, somehow. 

Joel gapes for a moment before licking his lips and setting down the pail holding the blueberries he’d been collecting. He strides around the planter boxes to where you stand, placing both hands on your shoulders, the touch electrifying as his warm skin burns into yours. Joel knows that it can’t go on like this - you’re one to rarely drop your curiosities and you have a tendency for your thoughts to run away with you. As much as Joel could go on forever, torturing himself with the thoughts of what if until he loses himself to the madness of it, pushing you away just far enough to ease the pain, he knows he can’t run anymore. At the very least, he can give you some closure, make you understand why things can’t be the fairy tale you’ve been envisioning between you two. His stomach churns at the thought of it, but he gives you a weak, reassuring smile.

“Y’know what? Let’s do somethin’ today. This can wait. There’s a place I’ve been, uh, wantin’ to take you,” he says, tightening his grip on your shoulders, sending you looking back up with raised brows at the sudden shift. 

“U-uh-“ you stutter, setting down the watering can and getting your bearings. “S-sure, daddy…”

“Settled then. We can talk there, sweetheart,” he says, drumming his fingers on your shoulders in an air of finality, leaning down to kiss your forehead. The gesture makes your heart flutter again, and you finally feel a smile creeping up on you for the first time today. 

Joel forces you to eat more before you go, saying it’s a bit of a hike and wanting your energy up, sending you impatiently snacking at the kitchen table with your feet tapping rapidly underneath you. 

“Quit,” he hollers from where he’s grabbing his rucksack by the front door, moving to the nearby closet. 

You still your legs with a private scowl when his back is turned. “Where are we going?” you ask, allowing yourself to feel another ounce of excitement creep in as you push your chair out, moving to stand up. Joel’s eyes flick to your plate, then to the growing intrigue in your eyes, his face unimpressed.

“Nowhere if you don’t finish that,” he says plainly, causing you to plop back down into your chair and pout for a moment in a silent staredown with him. You break quickly at his raised brows, resigning yourself to the rest of your food while Joel finishes up flitting around the cabin, packing his pack for the trip - a blanket, some of the blueberries to try, and a revolver. Just what you need for the perfect day out, you think sardonically to yourself. 

“Now can you tell me where we’re going?” you ask impatiently, standing and tilting your now empty plate towards him. When he laughs at your playful insolence, your heart races, soaring high in your chest - a beautiful sight and sound that you realized you had missed more than you had ever anticipated. 

“Patience, blossom. It’s a surprise.”

You’re quickly learning that the woods surrounding the cabin are so much less menacing when Joel is with you. Thick brush, wide tree trunks that once laughed at you, mocked your impending death all those months ago now welcoming you with open arms, lush and green and smiling down upon you as the sun shines through them. Since you’d arrived, you hadn’t strayed too close to them, stepped foot inside the dense, thick line of trees as memories of your time trying to survive threatened to taunt you. But today, Joel is your rock, barreling his way through and showing you just how unafraid you should be, how beautiful the place you now call home is.

“How come we didn’t take Willow if it’s far?” you ask absentmindedly as you peer around the two of you at the scenery. It’s been a quiet walk, Joel’s eyes still leery, head whipping side to side as the noises of the woods creak and crack around you two. Every noise seems to put him more on edge, but he grits his teeth and carries on, reminding himself why he’s doing this. Joel took your hand in his as soon as you started hiking together, not daring to let go for even a moment as you trail behind him, both palms sweaty but refusing to slide out of each other’s grasp.

“It ain’t that far, princess. An’ it’s not safe for her out here, no good trails,” he explains to you in his practical voice, keeping that half step ahead of you to be on the lookout for any lurking danger.

“Hmm,” you offer simply in response, chewing the inside of your lip. It’s hard to enjoy the scenery you usually would, the way the weather seems to be cooperating perfectly with your outing today. Your chest pulses with anxiety at exactly what Joel is planning to say to you once you get there. “Is it much further?” you decide to ask instead, skirting around your own feelings.

Joel glances back at you. “Jus’ through here, actually,” he says as the trees thin slightly, a clearing up ahead that doesn't look much different than the same terrain you’d been passing for the last thirty minutes. When you step out, you see exactly why Joel wanted to bring you here. It’s an oasis buried deep in the wilderness, still shaded from the leaves high above and its own carved out space, perched near the edge of the cliff, opening up to a mountainous view is a spread of steaming water. 

At your quiet exclamation, a breathy noise of half impression and half questioning, Joel turns to you. “Hot springs. Ain’t it somethin’?” he says.

“It’s just… I’ve heard of these, I think. It’s beautiful,” you utter, still breathless as your eyes sweep over the gorgeous landscape in front of you. Joel is on you the next moment, his hand tucking around your waist and pulling you closer, blanketed in a hold against his chest. He rests his head against yours and sighs at the proximity, your warmth and scent enveloping him for the first time in far too long other than in some heat of animalistic hunger, something he’d been denying himself for too long. 

“It is,” he agrees softly. “You can go swimmin’ in there.”

“I- in… nothing?” you ask, your face warming up as you picture yourself stripping down bare somewhere so open, so public.

“As opposed to what, hm?” Joel asks with a tilted eyebrow, confirming as much for you. “Jus’ us out here, and it ain’t nothin’ I haven’t seen yet.”

You just give him a lighthearted scowl, moving out of his grasp to walk towards the water, clambering over the rocks that surround the edges, bending down to graze your fingers along the surface and letting them dip further down. When you pull it back and stand up, surprised with widened eyes, you glance over your shoulder at Joel. 

“It really is hot!” you exclaim, getting an amused half smile from Joel who stands with his arms folded over his chest. “That’s amazing… like a bath…” you murmur as you stare down at the small ripples in the water from your touch, the steam billowing off in inviting clouds. 

Joel moves behind you, fingers skimming the hem at your neckline, then bunching the skirt of your dress, pulling upwards, revealing your front to him inch by inch before it’s tossed aside. He crouches to your feet, your old, busted boots being untied next, his hand tapping each foot as he does to signal you to lift up, a steadying hand on his shoulder as he does it. It all feels so normal, too much like old times for you not to be wary, but your heart surrenders itself to him when he starts to tug on your panties, peeling them down your legs, leaving you bare in front of him. 

You tremble slightly for reasons you couldn’t tell yourself, not even a chill in the air to blame it on with the sun shining brightly above the two of you. That questioning look in your eye, that beg for permission isn’t lost on Joel as he gives you a curt nod. 

“Go on, blossom,” he says with a nudge of his head towards the water, sending you turning to step in. The hot water seeps right to your very soul as your legs submerge first, crouching down slightly to get your upper body. Your weariness melts away, wishing that Joel could come in behind you and shed away the layers of protection he’s been building up to keep you out, but things are never so easy as that. The groan that escapes your lips as he watches your curves lapped at by the water makes Joel’s jeans tighten with need around his crotch, an effect you have on him even in your most innocent meaning moments. Especially those, even. 

“C’mere, c’mere…” he murmurs, beckoning you over to where he sits along the rocks, fully clothed, the stark difference in seeing your bare skin next to his shirt sending sparks dancing across your skin in a strange, foreign way. The complete representation of the two of you so on display for all of nature to see makes your skin warm with embarrassment and that unrelenting, undesired need, your mind falling back to that old war with itself over Joel. Why do you care for him? Is it because he feeds you, clothes you, keeps you warm? Is it some instinctual thing that your brain has latched onto when you know you couldn’t make it on your own? Or is it purely visceral attachment because he showed you pleasures you would have otherwise likely never met without him? Beyond that, is it because you see glimpses past the edges of where he ends, past those parts he curates and shows to the world, to who he really is?

You drift over, standing to meet him at the edge with half your body out of the water where his hands lay open for you, instantly wrapping around your front and holding your back to him.

“Sweet girl,” he says quietly, his lips pressing to your neck. It blooms on your skin, trickling along to your chest where your skin speckles with goosebumps, your nipples turning to taut buds that Joel gazes at over your shoulder. His hands rub, massaging across your upper chest and your shoulders, sending your head lolling backwards to his pecs with a tiny, pleasured roll of your eyes. “You’ve been so patient with me,” he coos, and you’ve found heaven again at his smoother, gentler tone finally making a reappearance. 

“What is it, daddy? W-what’s going on?” you ask him, nearly begging at this point, turning your neck to blink doe-like, worried eyes at him.

“You said somethin’… that day, ‘bout love,” he begins solemnly, the change in tone sending your blood running hot and then cold at the realization that this isn’t setting you up for the romantic interaction you’d been praying for ever since that day he’s mentioning now.

“U-uh-huh…” you murmur, unsure as you shift your weight in his hold, your eyes staring straight ahead now at the endless green sprawled out across the mountains. 

“I know you think that’s what you’re s’posed to say, what daddy wants from you, isn’t it? That you’re supposed to feel that way about me?”

“N-no, no that’s n-not…” you interrupt, knowing how much Joel despises it but unable to help the words blurting out of you, wanting Joel to stop and try to understand you.

“It is, honey,” he clips back. 

“No. I felt it, daddy.” How could he not see? The love you have for him, the way you carry it with you as you trail behind him like a dog each and every day, begging for each crumb of his attention and care? The way you give him starry eyes each time you got lucky enough to be sat between his legs as he likes you, underneath him while he fucks you, locking eyes over the table during meals. Was it not enough, not clear to him the things your heart was screaming so loud inside of you?

“And you feel it now, still?” he asks, his thick hands squeezing around your shoulders before sliding down and locking in front of your chest. 

“I-“ you stutter, contemplating. The doubt he’d cast into your mind these last few weeks wasn’t enough to stop you, to take away that moment from you. Hell, it was the reason you’d even been so adamant to bring him back to you, to drag that Joel screaming and fighting out of whoever the hell this shell of him was now. This sullen, foreign lover that shared your bed, that barely seemed able to tolerate himself, let alone you. “I do,” you say meekly, defeated.

Joel tuts quietly behind you. “You don’t know it, blossom. Love. It ain’t… like what you’re readin’. You don’t… you don’t love someone like me.”

You swallow too hard, your throat hurting as it’s caught on the way down, eyes stinging when you blink, revealing a blurry mess swimming in front of your eyes. You squirm, the movement sudden enough that you wriggle in his grasp, spinning to face him. You feel hot, your body begging to run, to escape the way you feel like your entire world is beginning to crumble inwards. “That’s… you don’t know. You don’t know… what I think!” 

“I know I ain’t what you think I am,” he says, keeping his voice soft while yours wants to do nothing but the opposite. Scream. Shake him. Beg him.

You sputter for a moment, gaping at him. “Yes you are! What are you saying, daddy?” Your body starts to rebel against you, a gentle trembling at your knees that makes it hard to stand so firmly in front of him, the eye contact you’re making with him almost too much to bear in its hot intensity. 

Joel’s arms reach for you, and you want to step back, to refuse what you know you’ll fall for as you have every time. But the moment you’re in his arms and pressed close, his palm flat along the back of your head and beginning to stroke a soothing melody to your soul, you know you’re done for. 

You blink back the tears again, curling your toes into earth beneath them in anger, your fists balling along with the action and refusing to embrace him back. “S-stop…” you snip at him tearfully. When he only shushes you, continuing to stroke your head and now back, you feel furious. “You think I care that you killed… Bryant?” You spit his name, the first time you’ve dared yourself to say it since that day. “Is- is that what this is?!”

“No, baby, it’s not. It ain’t… about that. I’ve killed lots more than jus’ that piece of shit and I’d do it again,” he says. 

“What then!” you cry, squirming more violently in his grasp.

“Hey, hey,” he grunts, holding you tighter before bringing his hands up to your cheeks. “No gettin’ worked up, now, c’mon. Sweetheart, I just can’t care about you the way you want me to. The way you’re expectin’ me to when you say things like that. I ain’t that kind of man.”

Your mind feels like it’s spinning, a strange fog rolling in over it, almost like you’re hearing everything underwater as your ears start to prickle with heat. “W-what?” you finally spit out quietly, knowing your angry, screwed up face is falling, jaw going slack as the words start to sink in. 

“You know that, honey, c’mon. I’m not… It’s not what this is. I’ve told you from the start what you are to me, what I’m doin’ for you.”

“You said… you’d c-care for me. You’d… keep me and - and -“ you snivel, your eyes feeling strained from the weight you’re holding back, the dam of tears threatening to break through.

“An’ I’ve done that, haven’t I? Kept you?” Joel’s hands are thrown up before falling to his sides.

“Well… yes, daddy, bu-”

“Keepin’ ain’t love. And I never promised you that.” His words are spoken with such finality you’re not sure how to respond anymore, to convince him that you think he may love you, too. Maybe it’s delusional, maybe it’s true - you don’t know much about reality these days, you think. But the way Joel looks at you sometimes, the soft stares when you’re curled up to him, when you’re glowing with satisfaction after a night in bed together, when you catch his eye in the middle of some mundane task, it sounds like it’s out of one of your books. If you’d been mistaken then that was on you, you supposed, but Joel had never made it easy to interpret what he was feeling towards you.

You give him a weak nod, eyes falling to the water below you, stepping backwards and sinking yourself down to be met with the warmth of it on your upper body. Joel starts to kick off his shoes and socks before he lifts his t-shirt, revealing his salt and pepper chest and plush belly to you. You hate the way you’re still staring despite how angry you feel, practically salivating as you take in the body that’s done so much for you, watching him bend to strip off his jeans and briefs all in one motion, leaving him bare to you now, too. When your eyes land between his legs, you see he’s halfway to hard, and for some reason your heart sinks.

He steps into the hot spring pool with his intense gaze never leaving where you bob sullenly in the water, your lips starting to dry with how tightly pressed they are, your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth. You don’t know what to say, how to say anything to him now that you understand what you are to him. You were foolish to think he could ever feel that strongly for you, weren’t you? It had all been an obsession with control, with having you exactly as he wished, never about finding someone to be with, to love. You were doomed to a life without love before, never thinking that was what you’d find out here with Joel, too.

He wades through the water with determination, a prowling lion finding you shrinking in on yourself before he crouches down towards you, the backs of his fingernails curving up your cheek with heated eyes. 

“Say you understand,” he says in a low rumble, all consuming fire behind his stare taking you whole, and despite the way you want to shake your head and cry until your body gives out on you, you just blink, holding his gaze. 

“I-I understand,” you sputter out in a strained voice. Even if every cell in your body wants to fight it, you’re powerless against Joel’s final word. 

He devours you then, hand tight around your cheek, the other coming up to join as his lips meet yours over and over. Bodies melding, him backing you up to the nearest edge of the small pool, and once you’re against the wall of rock your leg is hoisted up around his waist, pulling you flush. Your head is slammed into his chest, bodies already slick from steam and sweat as your cheek bristles against his chest hairs. You cry out, not sure what you want, what any of this means right now if you give in so easily.

But you’re his pet. And you’ll be damned if you aren’t a good one. 

He splits you open the next moment, your hips twitching in protest as he stretches you without warning, your lip bit between your teeth, quivering as you hold back tears. He moves in you, stunted by the water working against you two as a lubricant, making you whimper even louder when all you want is to refuse to show weakness right now. He’s agonizingly slow for only a moment before picking up the pace, your fingers clawing into his forearms, little half moons imprinted in your wake that only spur Joel on, the thought of finding them later, tracing them with his calloused hands - that little reminder of you and how much you belong to him.

“Daddy, please…” you finally let go in a choked voice, your eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“It’s okay, my sweet girl, I know, I know,” he says soothingly while his cock drags in and out of you with painfully delicious sparks shooting up your spine, sending your hands slipping around to his back, digging in there instead. You can’t help the flood of tears that starts to pour out, realizing this is the closest you get to love from him, his way of expressing things he can’t say.

“Please…” you murmur, the salt of your tears spilling into your mouth when it opens. Please love me.

He’s pulling out - rough, domineering hands spinning you to put your back towards him as he wraps an arm around your midsection and slams you back into his own body. He positions his cock between your clenched thighs and wastes no time pushing into your heat again, holding you upright and tight against him as he thrusts into you. His other hand, now free, goes to your neck, wrapping tightly around it, fingers tucking themselves around your collar and tugging on it.

“Mine,” he grunts out breathlessly, making you cry harder, starting to sob, even, before you can help it. You are his, he’s made sure of that. Made you think of him as your entire world just to rip it out from underneath you, say such cruel things, deny you any love in your most vulnerable moments. Your eyes violently squeeze shut with the onslaught of tears when Joel’s hand is over your mouth, stifling your sobs. 

“Cry all you want, sweetheart, daddy’s got you,” he coos in your ear, your head pulled back by his palm and tucked back onto his shoulder where his breathing fans across your cheek as he turns to press his nose into your neck. His teeth graze your flesh, sinking in, and you yelp into his palm when he goes harder, harder, harder on both his bite and his thrusts.

“Let me make it all better, baby,” he rumbles against your newly bruised and busted skin when you gasp out a sob into his hand, his hips rutting heavily and hard into you, your body sore from the straight, rigid position he’s holding you in as he pistons himself into you. You hate that it feels any semblance of good, that his cock is any form of comfort to you right now, this pain a familiar solace you can attach yourself to.

He’s hitting every perfect spot with each press of his cock, lighting your nerves on fire and your body gives out on you as you sob through your sudden climax washing you. You’re wracked with a mixture of cries and moans that sputter out against his palm still held tightly to your mouth while you tremble against him.

“There we go… there we go… good…” Joel coos between his breathy grunts, sliding his hand from your mouth as you come down, now a snotty, half blubbering mess. All that’s left is quiet hiccupping sobs and Joel’s groans as he finishes himself off in you, quickly using your cunt to jerk himself several more times before his hips stutter and then stop completely. He clutches at your chest, tits groped tightly as you’re pressed firmly back against him while he comes. You feel him twitch, every inch he can fit buried deep inside of you as he fills you up with a heavy, pitiful sigh. 

“Jesus…” he whispers, head tilted back, breathing heavily, still not giving you an inch of room to move your body away from him. When he finally lets you go, you fall forward, splashing down into the hot water that feels far too warm now. Joel sidles up to you, wrapping an arm around your waist as he swings himself to the front of you. His sticky forehead tries to press against yours but you turn your head indignantly, eyes averted into the woods and your lips set into a firm scowl. 

“Is that not… enough? For you?” he asks quietly, and you feel the way your set brow instantly lifts a little, taken aback. It makes your newly dissipated tears pop right back up as you contemplate his words and hear the brokenness behind them.

“I f-feel like you’re punishing me, daddy, when I- I’ve been so good…” you whimper out, sucking in a breath to stop yourself from sobbing, your eyes already tired and head throbbing from the crying you’ve done today. “Sh-shouldn’t I be asking you the same thing?”

Joel’s jaw ticks and sets harder, pulling you back by the face to stare into your eyes and show you the shake of his head. “I know I’m hurtin’ you, this is my whole god damned point, sweetheart,” he huffs, composing himself for a moment. “I can’t… You have no idea what I felt when I saw you in danger, what went through my head… but it sure as hell wasn’t love. It was failure. D’you understand?” he asks the last question with desperation, almost, disappointment behind the outright anger in himself.

Your shoulders sink down, your body swaying away from him before pulling yourself up onto the rocks at the edge of the pool, sitting on them with your knees pulled up to your chest, letting the warm breeze start to dry you off. “I… don’t know. I guess so, daddy,” you shrug wearily, glancing over at where he stands up out of the water, starting to follow you. His skin drips fresh, hot droplets onto yours as he trudges past you and to his rucksack, pulling out an old patchwork blanket and laying it along the bed of grass there. He pats the fabric, calling you over to him, and you follow even though right now it’s the last thing you want to do. All you want is to be alone, to think about the absolute mess you’ve found yourself in, loving a cruel, hard man who has no intention of returning the feeling. Your heart aches so much it’s hard to even look at him, his handsome, rugged cheeks, strong, beautiful nose, his dark eyes so wide right now, begging for you to come to him.

“Right here, baby, c’mon,” Joel says, spreading his legs wide as they stretch out in front of him and planting a palm on his thigh. You crawl in between them, lying down on your side and resting your head on his upper thigh. Gentle fingers start to work along your skin, brushing any errant hairs out of your face before he traces soothing circles down your shoulders.

“Y’know this doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I care very, very much about you, blossom. That’s why I’m doin’ all of this. None of this is a punishment. I don’t want… you to be hurt,” he says quietly.

Too late.

“You said you worry you aren’t enough, but you’re everythin’ I’ve ever wanted, don’t you know that? I told you once… I thought you were a gift… didn’t I? An’ you are, you have been.”

“But you’ve been s-so… so…” you stutter out, still trying to get a handle on your emotions, the tears that never seem to want to stop coming where Joel is concerned.

“I know, I ain’t been actin’ fair to you. I’ve been… thinkin’ too much… an’ I hurt you. I ain’t been doin’ all I promised I would lately. Takin’ care of you like I’m s’posed to.”

You shake your head against his skin. “N-no, not really,” you admit, strangely finding it easy to tell him his shortcomings, unafraid of it upsetting him. “I was worried that it was me, somehow,” you add on quietly, sharing a little more of your truth with him.

Joel lets out a tsk before shaking his head again. “It’s never you, sweetheart. Daddy has his own stuff to figure out sometimes, an’ I was scared if I didn’t focus on that, I’d lose you somehow. Made me feel… insane… hell, even somewhere beyond insane that day… the thought of losin’ you. Hard to shake that after what happened,” he says distantly, his words slow and careful as if his memory is drifting backwards, his mind replaying the horrible thing you both went through.

Your face scrunches a little as you work to understand him. “So… you wanted to see me less because of all of that?”

Joel sighs, a sad sound before he folds himself over enough to kiss the top of your head. “No, I did. It jus’ hurt a lot, baby. An’ daddy doesn’t do very good with hurt. That make sense?”

You hum affirmatively, twisting your lips in a thoughtful expression. “Does it still hurt?” you ask, turning your head to rest the back of it on his thigh, staring upwards at where he looks down at you, the green trees and peeks of blue sky above framing his head.

“Yes,” he says plainly, his eyes shining and truthful. 

“Maybe someday… when it hurts less… you can… feel the same way as me,” you say, words going quieter and less sure sounding with each one, catching your lip in your teeth after the last one, hopeful eyes flashing up at him.

“Oh, honey…” Joel’s lips part, brows going soft before he promptly shuts his mouth, and you watch as he swallows hard. “Let me ask you, blossom, don’t it hurt right now? The way you think you feel about me?”

Your already misty eyes well up and you nod. “Yes, daddy, it does," you say, barely a whisper. Excruciating. Like your heart wants to fall out of your chest with the way you’d follow him anywhere, regardless of how he feels about you.

He gives you a shrug with a sympathetic, crooked upturn of his lips. “So see? It’s gonna hurt, what we have,” he tells you, sounding practical about it, yet your heart sinks, not wanting to believe him.

You sigh sadly, defeat washing over you. You had no idea it could be this complicated, this tender and raw to be with somebody the way you are with Joel. You’d never imagined in your life that you could find something so complex that it makes your head hurt to think too much on it. But you found a glimmer of hope that it didn’t always have to be this arduous in the past, the way things had been before the attack. If only you could get back to that…

“Maybe someday it won’t have to…?” you ask without much conviction, terrified to hear his answer. 

He sighs, giving you another sympathetic turn of his lips. “Yeah, maybe so,” he says with a hand stroking along the side of your head, the hint of hope in his voice giving you the strength to carry on. You turn your body, wrapping yourself around his leg, ankle thrown over his and arm wrapping tightly around his thigh as you snuggle close to it. Joel chuckles softly at your blatant display of clinginess, reaching down and unsticking you from his leg and yanking you upwards, falling backwards onto the blanket with you huddled close to him.

“You’ve been a good girl, honey, you have. Daddy will do better going forward, okay?”

“Why’d you do it?” you ask, muffled into his armpit. “Why’d you act like you don’t care about me anymore?”

Joel swallows with a shaky exhale of breath at your honesty, his chest aching far past any capacity he thought he could live with to hear you so hurt. He knows his influence on you, that every move is studied, absorbed, and interpreted by your sweet, inexperienced mind, and yet he still finds himself surprised at just how much this has affected you.

“I didn’t want either of us to feel hurt anymore, an’ I thought some distance would…” he pauses for a tiny shake of his head as he considers the futility of his next word, seeing where you two are right now, “...help.”

“Please don’t do that again. Please, daddy. It was a-awful. Just… tell me… talk next time… please,” you beg, feeling yourself getting riled up again, somehow not quite out of tears just yet. 

“Shh, shh,” he soothes you, “I won’t. I know have a bad habit of doin’ things all on my own, but I left you all alone too, didn’t I?” Joel asks with a quiet pain in his voice and you nod, sniffling.

“I w-was scared… that was so scary…” you say with a shaky voice, finally facing all the things you’d stuffed down as you’d busied yourself worrying about Joel these past two weeks. Your own trauma was left tossed to the side as you observed those gashes and cuts slowly start to heal with vacant eyes every time you saw yourself in the mirror. You hadn’t felt that it was you, the event and memories that came with it separated from the current body you had to live in, and you didn’t know what to make of it. What to do with the dull ache that filled your chest, unable to turn to anyone. 

“I was selfish to not help you more when you needed me, baby. I - I failed.” A long sigh escapes Joel, followed by a pause as you burrow yourself further into his shoulder, a gentle stream of tears passing down your cheeks. “Can you talk to me now? Am I… too late?”

Your breath catches and you give him a sincere look, shaking your head but hesitating for a moment. What if it’s not what he wants to hear? What if your sadness, your pain, is too much for him?

“Go on, tell me what you’ve been thinking, tell me everythin’ - I won’t get upset, I won’t get mad,” he reassures you, fingers dancing along your shoulder in little circles, running patterns across your skin. 

So you do. You share every thought that comes to mind in a hushed little voice among the rustling trees, recounting from the moment Joel left to the moment he found you. The way you’d tried to fight, desperately thinking of Joel and getting back to him, eventually giving up and slowly starting to assume your life to be over or worse when Bryant had pulled out that knife. Joel listens, quietly yet attentively, letting you take your time, slow to respond but quick to comfort you when it gets to be too much to continue talking. He’s a ball of energy, you can feel it sparking in the air around him, likely ready to do unspeakable things to Bryant all over again, but he keeps his promise to remain cool and just let the words flow out as you need them to. 

Sharing the burden with Joel makes you feel lighter than you’d imagined possible, the pain now dispersed into tiny little pieces between the two of you, and you lay your head across his belly, exhausted and stifling a yawn that Joel returns with an even bigger one of his own. 

“Should we head back, daddy?” you ask tiredly, sitting up, seeing his heavy eyes begging to continue catching up on his much needed rest. You give him a soft grin, relishing in the view of him so relaxed and open to you again, so vulnerable. 

Joel gives a lethargic shake of his head, his lips twitching into a smile back at you. “Let’s stay jus’ a little longer, wanna see you enjoy the water some more.”

“Are you coming too?” you ask as you stand off the blanket, stretching your lazy limbs and letting him unashamedly admire your bare form. 

“Mm-mm, I’ll jus’ watch from here, jus’ gonna… rest my eyes a minute,” he slightly slurs out with his eyes blinking slower and slower as he watches you tip toe your way to the pool again across the rocky terrain, sinking into the warmth with a smile and a relieved sigh. You float on your back, watching the leaves flutter above and send shadows down onto you as the sun starts to get low in the sky, everything becoming painted more golden by the minute. It feels like heaven, a place you feel excited to visit with Joel again and again, your own little secret oasis together. 

“Oh, daddy, I-“ you start to say, sitting yourself up in the water only to completely lose your train of thought when you see Joel sprawled out, head lolled to the side against the blanket, soft snores coming from his parted lips. It pulls a smile from you that turns to a soft giggle as you feel the rest of the weight you’d carried lifting off your sore, aching shoulders to finally see him so at peace. 

You’d be okay, you know you would.

Because you know what Joel doesn’t want to admit, and maybe never will be ready to. But he shows it more than he could ever say it, his actions speaking so loud it’s almost deafening sometimes. Bright, loud, practically written in gorgeous, scrawling letters on his forehead when he finds purpose in taking care of you, softens himself from who he was for you, gives up so much just to keep you safe and happy. Three words you may never hear from his lips, but ones you feel deeply, echoing inside of you in precious moments like these. 

He loves you. 

dividers by @/saradika-graphics !

reminder i have no taglist, follow @beardedjoel-updates to hear about my new fics!

smother - part xii: liberation

dark!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: after a haircut and some drunken nonsense, a new adventure begins for you and joel. 13.8k words. chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI! dubcon - stockholm syndrome, innocent reader, big juicy age gap (reader is 19, joel is 55), ddlg/daddy dom! joel, sub!reader, sexual punishment, smut, ass play needs it’s own warning i guess, angst, talk of past trauma (family death and suicide), consumption of alcohol, reader is referred to as a pet, reader wears a collar and leash, reader has hair and outfits are described. if these darker tags aren't your cup of tea please keep scrolling - i'm not responsible for the content you consume! a/n: what an insane time for that long haired joel photo to drop, it lines up a little too perfectly with this chapter. but damn y'all, this one really got away from me, i fear. 13.8k??? i hope you all find it enlightening to see more of why these characters are the way they are. exciting things are coming, though! also big s/o to my irl bestie victoria for help on the album choice, and @janaispunk for being my beta pal 💗

Slow and sweet. 

The way that Joel had taken you after he’d woken up next to the hot springs, cradling you in his arms before dipping between your legs. Slowly and sweetly running his tongue through your folds, slicker by the second for him as his mouth danced along your lips, suckling on your aching clit until you moaned and shuddered softly, surrendering to him. Slow and sweet as he pulled himself up, entering you with a tenderness he didn’t even afford you on your first time with a man, with him. 

You can’t help but shake underneath his closely pressed body at the intensity of his gaze, the slow, languid movements of his throbbing length while his lips press to yours in desperate, wet smacks. When you come again, pulsing around his cock, he holds you so tenderly you think you might just melt into the very ground below you. Your slow and sweet Joel, words nobody else would ever use to describe him, trying so hard to show you he cares, guilt coursing through his veins at the way he’s hurt you and will continue to do so long as you two are together. But neither one of you wants anything different, the pain now an understood bargain for a life spent together. 

Slow. Sweet. Steady. Joel’s hand clasped tightly in yours as you navigate back to the cabin in the impending darkness as the sun quickly sets. His eyes are still distracted, his hurt and anger with himself palpable in his very skin that touches yours, but you understand him now. How badly he wants only to protect you, to give his life new purpose by being able to care for you in that way - a home and safety. A provider. It gave you the sense that this was where Joel naturally fell, and as you gazed upon his back while you walked behind him, his hair curling down his neck, longer than you’d ever seen it, you found yourself on the cusp of accepting who he is. 

The days became much like they used to - slow and sweet - when you arrived home with him, only Joel had his moments where you could see that distant flash in his eyes, feel the rustle of the bed as he got up to do a quick sweep of the property. Sometimes you followed him out, sat with him on the porch for a while where he let you this time, breathing in the night air. Or you would wait right by the window in the kitchen where you could see him walk by on his full circle around the surrounding woods, ears perked and ready with a gun in his hand. Once sated that his fears were unfounded, he’d crawl back to bed with you and simply hold you or kiss you, some nights fucking you with deep, body splitting thrusts until you could both sleep again, his cock softening inside of you. The patrolling stints of his slowly started to taper over the weeks, but you knew this was something that was part of him now that your sanctuary had been breached once, the perfect, protected bubble you’d shared burst.

You spent the days together again around the cabin and in the garden with Joel in much better spirits, nights back in the living room reading, and it felt so good to find that new normal again, that thing you’d thought you had lost forever, now more precious than ever. You started frequently begging to go back to the hot springs as soon as possible, bringing it up often enough with pouting lips that Joel finally broke down, taking you on another hike out there. You spent the entire day swimming, snacking, books in hand and wild love in your heart. 

“Jus’ wait until summer. You’ll be sweatin’ in here, beggin’ to go to the river instead,” he’d said teasingly after you splashed at where he sat along the edge, catching your ears and sending you whipping your head towards him. There’s a river, too? you’d exclaimed happily, solidifying your upcoming summer plans, already imagining lazy, hot days to come in your mind with Joel. Cool swims after bodies slick with sweat from hiking or joining them together under the shade of a nearby tree, an abundance of berries filling your belly, happy, carefree days with the man you love. Love love love. You say it in your head all the time, rolling it over the grooves of your mind, trying it on for size to find that it still rings true. Maybe you don’t know what love is, like Joel said, but this feels as close as you could get. 

You get lost in the fantasy of it all, picturing just what each season will bring the two of you that you haven’t seen yet. Life is good. Life could stay good. It was safe and beautiful and calm again.

Several days ago he’d broken the news to you. Come to you with weary eyes, like he’d been toiling over the decision more heavily than was necessary. His words were unsurprising, it had been obvious - you’d actually been wondering about the same thing for a while as you watched your supplies dwindling, wondering on when he’d finally bring it up because you hadn’t dared ask. But the sting of his words was still sharp, the nerves settling in swiftly when he confirmed it for you. 

“Been havin’ to think real hard about this, an’…” he’d trailed off, frustrated hand raked through his beard. “We can’t go much longer without our usual things an’ well… can’t leave you by yourself anymore. We both know that.”

It was true, Joel hardly ever let you out of his sight anymore. He’d even taken to having you tag along on his hunting trips, something he’d always been adamant to leave you behind for in the past. But the last few times, you’d been dragged out into the surrounding woods with him, quiet as a mouse just as he ordered you to. 

“You stick to me like god damned glue unless I say so. An’ you don’t want to find out what’ll happen if you don’t, got it? Repeat it.” he’d coarsely instructed you on that first outing, you too terrified to say or do anything other than repeat it back and stand there - a silent, immovable object as he took his shots, and an obedient little pet following him when he needed to move. You suppose it had worked out, both times Joel had managed to get a deer, feeding the two of you for days off of it, but you know it wasn’t enough. Not for Joel. For himself, he could live off of deer, whatever few things he could grow in the garden, and be satisfied. But for you, he’d always wanted more. To give it all to you, to spoil you. Which was why your nearly empty fridge, fifth day of venison in a row had him looking torn, his mind distracted. 

You had both learned that you could handle being out in the woods with him, hunting or hiking to the hot springs, but what he was bringing to you was different. Your increasingly wide eyed stare after he’d sat you down and told you that he couldn’t leave you alone was questioning, seeking confirmation on what you feared he was saying, prompting him onwards. 

He sighs, deep and heavy, the words reluctant to come out but you can hear them before he even speaks. “You’ve just got to come with me.”

Your initial reaction had been worry, fear stealing the breath from your lungs, clinging to him almost violently with grasping hands that he’d pried off and shushed you. Then the excitement came, the thoughts of being out in the real world again, or maybe for the first time in your life. You couldn’t be sure if you considered where you grew up real anymore, phony people and phony tactics to keep you docile and perfect. You pondered what it would feel like to be outside of this bubble, the comfort you’d grown too used to now - it’s strange just how quickly humans adapt to things, accept certain things that maybe they shouldn’t. 

You had visions of Jackson, seeing them when your nerves and anticipation kept you awake at night, wondering which version you’d conjured in your head it would be most like. In the days that followed, you’d settled on a strange mix of all the emotions, Joel noticing you being a little more quiet than usual when he’d half expected a barrage of questions about the trip, Jackson, the people, anything really.

Your mind is half on one of these daydreams as you watch on while Joel takes his whiskey from the highest shelf in the kitchen, amber liquid sloshing against the sides of the bottle as he tips and pours it into a crystal glass, the nicest one in the house, reserved for when daddy has his special drink. He holds it so delicately for such rough fingers as he traipses over to where you lay sprawled on the couch, waiting for your nighttime routine of reading after your showers. Joel comes straight to you instead of the bookshelves, taking a long sip from his glass and leaning down to set it on the coffee table. 

“Scooch,” he says, squeezing your shin, causing you to do a dramatic lift and swing of your legs, making room for him to sit down. You plop your legs back down into his lap to teasingly trap him, quickly captured by Joel’s strong arms squeezing them together and holding them down, making you squirm with elated giggles. 

“Daddy!” you yell out playfully, trying to kick against him. “Let me go!”

He chuckles, giving your feet a quick squeeze, tickling them as you thrash wildly against his hold. When he lets go, you swing your body upwards, sliding your legs on either side of his lap to straddle him, laughing. You dive in, arms around his neck, face planted into the crook between his shoulder and neck before you kiss him over and over along the skin there, still warm and damp from his shower as it hits your lips. 

“Are you attackin’ me with… kisses?” Joel asks through his rough laughter, tugging you back by the collar to gaze into your eyes. You nod proudly, fighting against him when he suddenly lets go, your head flying towards his where he captures you in a deep kiss. 

“You better watch it,” he scolds tauntingly with his forehead against yours. Your fingers thread through his still wet hair, slicked back, unruly curls between your fingertips. 

“Your hair is so long, daddy,” you observe, getting a raise of his brows as he settles his hands on your hips. “Who cuts it normally? Just you?”

He seems a little surprised at your questioning, brows staying raised high. “Mm, usually talk someone into doin’ it in Jackson, or m’self I guess,” he answers with a little shrug. 

You slip more strands through your fingers, peering past his eyeline to watch it curl far down his neck. “Hmm. It’s too long,” you decide with an observant tilt of your head, and Joel quickly snorts out a laugh, tightening his hold on your hips.

“Oh, is that so?” he asks with another chuckle, shooting you a warning glance with a squeeze against your skin. He always gets a sparkle in his eye, an intrigued twinkle every time you show him any kind of sass, and despite the risks, it usually urges you on to keep teasing him.

You give him a shy smile, continuing to twirl his hair around your fingers, scratching against his scalp and making him hum quietly when you dig in a little. “Well, do you like it like this, daddy?”

“Seems like you don’t,” he says, rough and playful, but you shake your head. 

“N-no, I kind of do. It’s so… curly. But I figured it was shorter when I met you, a-and I hadn’t seen it cut since then…”

He gives you a small, lopsided smile. “S’ too long, I’ll give ya that,” he says, reaching one of his hands to where yours is buried in his hair, threading his fingers through yours to feel the length of his hair. “Why’re you goin’ on about this, hm? You want to cut it, princess?”

You bite your lip, pulling the top one into your mouth and giving him a timid glance before you nod. “I was hoping so, yeah. I-if you’d want me to…” you say quietly. 

“You ever cut a man’s hair before?” he asks, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to your lips, and you nod into it. 

“Yes, daddy, lots of times, I had to practice for my future… uh, husband…” you say the last word hushed with a growing heat in your cheeks, unsure of how Joel will feel about it. Both the insinuation of what he is to you if you cut his hair and the fact that you could have been promised to another just before everything had gone to shit in your community. Of the things you know about Joel, he’s never failed to be possessive of the things that belong to him. 

But he only keeps up the soft smirk, another kiss to your lips before he pulls you back, confident in knowing who you’ve pledged yourself to. “Show me what you got, then.”

You set up in the kitchen, Joel sipping from his drink as you hover behind him, circling the dining chair with nervous energy. The shears are in your hands, not in the best shape but they should do the job well enough, and yet you can’t get yourself to do the first cut. 

“Ain’t got all night, sweetheart,” Joel scolds lightly, forcing you to blink out of your nervous haze. 

“I-I’m sorry, I just wanna do it right for you, daddy,” you blurt out, repositioning yourself and fiddling with the ends of his hair. It’s so intimate, for all the times you’ve raked your fingers through it in the heat of the moment or when the two of you are cuddling, this feels different - more personal, more trusting of you, the ability to look closely at his strands and see the peppering of gray amongst his dark. 

He turns his head, enough for you to catch a glimpse of him, his dark eyes meeting yours. “I trust ya, blossom,” he says with a curt nod. “Jus’ do it if you’re gonna do it, yeah?”

You perk up a little, standing up straighter, confidence brewing in your gut. “Y-yeah,” you push out, giving him a small smile before he turns back. 

Once you start, the vision comes right back to you, getting his hair back to that length it had been all those months ago. You can picture it, picture him, outside in his flannel shirt, axe in hand, the hard yet curious look on his face. You feel your cheeks getting warm as you realize just how attractive and intriguing you’d found him even back then, unable to peel your eyes from his muscles and dark features, those critical, alluring eyes. Knowing you shouldn’t have found this older, risk laden stranger attractive had only made it that much harder to pull yourself away when you should have. 

“You like it how you had it… back then?” you ask quietly, starting to snip a small amount of length from the bottom, watching the hairs trickle down to the wood planks beneath your feet. 

“Mhm, sure, baby. I don’t really pay too much mind to it, if I’m honest,” he says as you comb your fingers through his thick strands, shaking it out a little. “Did you like it?” he asks with a teasing lilt after you snip a few more bits off the ends. You flush hot, cheeks burning all the way up to your ears as you give a small nod he can’t see behind his head. 

“Y-yes…” you say, your voice trailing off into a hushed whisper and Joel chuckles softly. 

“You always thought daddy was handsome, didn’t you? Didn’t have to train that one into you, huh?” Joel asks, clearly sounding overly pleased with himself as he calls out your hidden truth. It makes your stomach jump and lurch, face burning hotter at your inability to remain unobvious. It’s hard to know if Joel appreciates knowing these things, or if you just look pathetic in front of him. 

“Yes,” you admit quietly as you cut, the soft snip of the scissors filling the quiet tenseness around you that follows. You can feel Joel’s smirk, the cockiness permeating the air as he takes in just how much he still makes you nervous. 

“And… what was the first thing you noticed ‘bout me, princess? Hm?”

You bite your lip, willing your cheeks to stop burning so intensely hot, the sensation spreading, sending your skin tingling at his low, sensuous tone. “I- uh-“

“Was it my… hair? My eyes? What I was wearin’?”

You shake your head. “No… well your eyes, yeah, kind of…” you sputter out, steadying your trembling hand before making another expert cut, seeing Joel’s trimmed hair taking shape now. 

“But..? What?” he asks, licking his lips, feeling himself getting half hard at this teasing, his briefs going a little tighter around his cock. 

“Your… muscles,” you say, breathing out with a tiny giggle at how tense you’ve been that Joel matches with an amused huff of his own. You see him smiling as you come around to his front, shyly smirking at him as you take strands at the front of his face to begin cutting.

“An’ you like daddy’s muscles still? Like watchin’ me workin’?” You nod dumbly in response. “Cutting wood? Keepin’ this place runnin’?” Another nod. He grabs your wrist in his hand tightly, showing off said muscles in his t-shirt as he reaches around and grabs your ass with the other. “When I’m fuckin’ your tight little cunt? Like my muscles then?”

Your breath hitches, a gush of warmth between your thighs, tingling all over your entire body. Hot heat envelops you down to your very nerves and you can only nod, keeping eye contact with Joel as his lips curl up. 

“Keep on goin’,” he says, letting go, his hands falling to his sides and settling back in to let you continue. You’re frozen for a moment before breathing out a long, shaky exhale, unsure of what to do with yourself. You’re feeling desperation pulling inside your belly for Joel to fill you, make you come, but you know these things are all always on his terms. Maybe he’ll reward you for getting through this haircut without a hitch, answering all his dirty questions along the way. 

“What do you like best about daddy now, hm?” he asks as you snip along his front and sides, checking the evenness along the way with a crouch in front of him where Joel unashamedly peers down your dress as it gapes open in the front. 

“I like… hm…” you start, pausing with a bit lip and shears held upwards, your hip popping to the side as you think. “I think I like how you always take care of me,” you decide on with a delicate smile, realizing it truly is what you appreciate most about him. 

“Yeah? Thas’ sweet, honey,” Joel says sincerely, his eyes softening and lighting up while you keep cutting. “What about physically, huh? What about daddy turns you on?” he asks next, his voice starting to go gravelly with need. Your breathing comes out in a shaky flutter, thighs feeling the need to clench as you think about all the things about him that turn you on, that turn you into a begging mess, nothing but a sloppy hole for him to fuck as he pleases. 

You pause with the shears over a chunk of hair, hardly able to breathe. You overtly rake your eyes to where his legs are spread wide, to that spot between them that’s clothed with dark gray sweatpants currently starting to tent, then to his face, locking your gaze on his. “Your eyes, daddy,” you say sweetly with a honeyed smile, making Joel’s lips part into a magnificent, open mouthed smirk.

“Naughty,” he says under his breath, pulling his lip inwards and biting it before composing himself, hands gripping tightly onto his thighs, grounding himself. 

“Almost there, daddy,” you tell him, skirting around to his back again, wanting to finish cleaning it up. Joel is patient, reaching forward between snips for a long sip of his whiskey, the glass back to the table once it’s drained empty, his eyes going to the shelf again, wanting a rare refill tonight.

“Done,” you say proudly, combing his hair to check it one last time, the length trimmed back to more of where it was before. You pull the comb through from the front a few times, slicking back his hair a bit. You love when it dries like this, an errant curl tending to fall to his forehead as it does, driving you mad every time. You stand in front of him timidly, watching as he stands up, his presence so big when he’s towering right there, leaning towards you. He presses a peck to your lips, running a hand over the back of his damp hair.

“Sure it looks great, princess,” he says confidently, tilting his head at you before going around you to the shelf, deciding to pour that extra glass while you watch on with wide eyes. “You want your reward for bein’ a good little girl, doin’ a good job and answerin’ all my questions?”

You practically bounce where you stand, giving him a few nods. “Yes please, sir,” you eagerly punch out. He beckons you back to the couch, you right on his heels like the good pet you are, sinking down next to him and curling up close. 

“Your reward is sharin’ daddy’s drink with him. How’s that sound?” Joel asks, tilting the glass towards you, watching your brows twitch together in trepidation. You certainly hadn’t been expecting this - in fact, you’d expected to be half split open by his cock right now with the way he’d been teasing you. You try not to let your disappointment show, your confusion at him offering to share his whiskey after all this time of denying it to you. 

“Oh, I don’t kn - I’ve never…” 

“I know, blossom. That’s why I’m here, makin’ sure you’re okay. Just gonna make you feel a little… different.”

You chew your lip, staring into the glossy, dark liquid as your fingers clutch onto his arm, digging in nervously. “Different how? I’m nervous, daddy. I was told this is bad stuff…”

Joel chuckles quietly, his other hand resting on your thigh starting to rub it. “It ain’t. Not if you’re careful with it, yeah? You’re jus’ gonna feel relaxed and have some fun with daddy.”

You suppose that doesn’t sound too bad, after all, considering you already have fun in your own way with Joel relatively often, thinking adding to that couldn’t hurt. 

“An’ since tomorrow’s a big day, it’ll be good for your nerves,” he adds on, making you recoil slightly. 

“I’m not-“ you start, unsure of why you deny such an obvious fact - it’s not like you’re the best at keeping your emotions tucked away, not like Joel. 

“Yes you are,” he quips back sternly. “So drink.” You turn your lips up and nod more confidently for him, sending him slapping his palm on your thigh. 

“Good girl,” he coos as he pats your plush skin, turning himself and moving the hand from your thigh to grasp at your chin, fingers tucking underneath. “Head back a little, baby,” he says as he helps you tilt it, bringing the glass to your lips. “Woah, slow there, easy,” he says, watching the liquid almost spill over as it passes your lips. 

Your face instantly contorts, scrunching up in displeasure as the bitter liquid washes over your tastebuds and burns your throat the entire way down. You shake your head wildly when Joel tilts the glass to your lips again, a blur of mm-mm’s passing through them as you refuse. 

“Hey, hey, it jus’ takes some getting used to,” he says, fingers stroking your chin now, trying to soothe you. 

“C-can’t believe you like that,” you say with a tiny cough, then smacking your lips, your tongue desperate to get the flavor out of its memory. Joel gives a little shake of his head with a hearty laugh. 

“Like I said, you gotta get a taste for it, yeah? Will you try again for daddy?” he asks, tilting the glass against your lips again. You nod reluctantly, letting the awful, burning liquid slip past your lips again, swallowing it quickly with another tight scrunch of your face.

“That’s a good girl,” Joel says softly, encouraging one more sip before pulling the glass back. “Feelin’ okay?” he asks, and you give him a small nod, your head swimming a little already. The alcohol seems to be burning through you, your insides tingling a bit with a strange, light feeling washing over you. 

“I-I think so,” you tell him. “I feel a little weird.”

“One more, then we’ll take a break,” he tells you, following with the same routine of him tipping the glass to your parted and waiting lips, you sucking down a longer and longer sip each time. Your eyes flutter a little as the tingling, warm feeling spreads again, curious about all the new sensations the whiskey is bringing, your lips turning into more of a smile.

“Attagirl, can see you’re likin’ it more now,” Joel says proudly, setting the glass on the coffee table and standing up, leaving you a little slumped on the couch, starting to feel more dazed. It’s a slow build, but you know your body doesn’t know how to tolerate alcohol just yet, and soon enough you’ll be feeling its full effects.

“Got one more surprise, blossom,” he tells you, walking over to the wall near the bookshelves where a record player sits, always untouched. You assumed it was either broken or Joel disliked music enough to never use it, but it turns out that wasn’t the case at all. “Finally found a record worth a damn for playin’ on my last trip, thought we could put it on tonight, sweetheart.”

You sit up, your body suddenly alert and beaming a little. “Yeah? I-I really like music, but most of the stuff I’ve heard… well…” you trail off, your lips twisting to the side with that strange pang of shame that comes up when you talk about your past. You know Joel understands it, was even the one who brought his concerns about it to you, but you still feel so much hurt, so much confusion about all those years spent with those people you considered family. You push the thought away quickly, brows wrinkling as you shift in your seat.

“It’s hymns? That kind of thing?” Joel asks, and you give him a shy nod. 

“Y-yeah,” you say sheepishly, sitting forward and gripping the glass when Joel’s back is turned as he fiddles with the record player, taking another sip, sneakily setting the glass back down noiselessly. It burns all over again, but you want to start feeling the fun effects of it Joel had promised you. “They were only okay.”

Joel chuckles with a small shake of his head. “Yeah, I’ll bet. This ain’t nothin’ like that,” he says, holding the record up for you to see. Red Headed Stranger is in huge, Western letters printed along the bottom, the album an ornate decor of red and yellow, drawing your eye. “Willie Nelson. This right here is pure gold - old school country music.”

You smile at his rare show of enthusiasm, suddenly feeling another slight wave of pleasant dizziness, like your limbs are getting lighter, everything a bit slower around you. “You liked this one in the before times, daddy?” you ask from across the room and he gives you a curt nod, putting the record on and you hear the distant crackle as it comes through the small speaker. 

As the music starts - a slow, twangy sound - you’re reaching for the glass, bringing it to your lips when Joel turns back around, catching you in the act. You freeze, fear bubbling deep in your gut, but he only smiles, a crooked, knowing little smirk, like he’d half expected you to do this anyways. “Now what do we have here? A bad little girl sneaking her daddy’s drink?” he asks with a lifted brow, approaching you. You throw back the drink despite his eyes on you, sending Joel laughing a genuine chuckle, the sound ringing above the music for a moment.

“Sorry daddy,” you spit out shyly, staring up at him in a way you’ve learned drives him mad, your lip caught between your teeth and eyes wide and blinking.

“Oh, we both know you ain’t,” Joel chortles as he reaches down to tug you up off the couch and into his arms. His hand flies around to your ass, a stinging slap sending you yelping with a giggle. He’s not trying to hurt you, no, if this were a real punishment you’d know - Joel is playing around just as much as you are right now, enjoying the flirtation and the chase of it all. 

“Not really,” you slur out slightly, tilting the glass to your lips yet another time, unsure of how much you really should be drinking. If Joel hasn’t stopped you yet, you figure you’re still in the clear. 

His hand squeezes tight onto your asscheek, holding you so close to him, bringing you right back to the heady memories of cutting his hair earlier, the teasing that went unresolved. He suddenly plucks the glass out of your hand and brings it to his own lips, downing the little bit left and smirking as he swallows. “Enough of that for you. You’re gonna be trouble tonight otherwise.”

You’re drunk. And indeed trouble. 

Dancing in front of where Joel sits on the couch to an upbeat country tune Joel tells you is called Down Yonder with a wild, joyous laugh after you’d asked as you twirl around the living room. He’d decided to refill the glass and let you have more to drink several songs ago, your body able to take it until it wasn’t, the complete drunkenness you’d felt hitting you like a slap in the face when you stood up again. Right before that Joel had taken to sloppily marking your neck, his face a little flushed but nowhere near as far gone as you, only a pleasant buzz coursing through him that was quickly sobering up as he felt himself getting more and more turned on by you. More hungry for you. The less in control you were, the more he could be. So you’d laid back, writhing pleasantly with whining, uninhibited moans while he kissed your neck and lips, both turning raw and puffy from his efforts. 

He hadn’t even been mad at the interruption when the more upbeat song came on, you suddenly desperate to fly off the couch to show him your moves, giggling. Your somehow klutzy gracefulness as you danced, the skirt of your dress flying around you with a huge smile plastered on made him all the more crazy for you. 

“Careful, careful, blossom,” Joel suddenly chides, standing up to come to you, watching you twirling dangerously close to the furniture - the last thing he needs is a huge bruise that you’d whine and wail over.

You slip away just as he nearly grasps at your arm, bounding over to the couch with gleeful steps and flopping down. You throw your legs up over the back of the couch, hanging with your head upside down along the front of the cushions, and Joel can’t help but crack a smile despite your insolence. Your dress rides up, falling gently upwards on your thighs as you kick your legs a little, so close to the sweet pair of little white panties you have on underneath. Adorned with lace and a bow, a picture of innocence compared to the filthy things he wants to do to you tonight. 

“I like you, daddy,” you blurt out playfully, hand clapping over your mouth to suppress your surprised giggle at your open honesty. That damned alcohol. 

Joel steps towards you, smirking, his hulking form more imposing from this low angle where the world hangs upside down in your vision. “I like you too, lil’ blossom,” he says with a chuckle, pausing in front of you, your eyeline right on his legs and you crane your neck to try to look up, almost coming face to face with the growing bulge in his sweatpants. 

You whine sloppily, louder than you’d intended at the sight, fresh heat pooling between your legs. “Kiss me, daddy,” you say with a small giggle, and Joel pauses before starting to move, casually stalking around to the back of the couch. You try to sit up and meet him there with your waiting lips, but Joel’s hands are out in a flash, pinning your ankles where they hang behind the couch so that you can’t move. 

“Kiss you, huh? Where? Kiss you… right here?” he asks, voice going down lower before he presses his lips to your shin. You whimper quietly and shake your head, a strange mix of forlorn begging and laughing. 

“N-no… daddy I just…”

“Here?” Joel interrupts, his head snaking up to your thighs, kissing the top of one before placing another on your inner thigh. He grips tight to your ankles, forcing your legs further apart before he hoists you up higher , bringing your aching, swelling heat closer to his mouth. 

“D-daddy…” you quietly whine, feeling the innocent fun of moments ago fading away, replaced with a tight, dull ache in your core. Your breathing goes shallow, catching in your throat when your legs are pulled again, forcing you higher up along the back of the couch, your body completely at Joel’s mercy as his fingers dig underneath your ass, holding you up so he can get close enough to your cunt. It’s not comfortable by any means, but your attempt to say anything coherent is blocked by your brain, spinning images and words from all the alcohol.

Joel’s nose nudges at the bottom hem of your dress, pushing it up that last inch to reveal your panties, wet wet wet, the fabric clinging to your puffy lips in its soaked state. Joel inhales your arousal deeply and pointedly, sending a shudder through you. “Always my sweetest prize, ain’t you princess?” he growls from between your thighs, his hands having slid up to the plushness there, digging in hard. Everything is starting to hurt from the way you’re positioned but you don’t dare fight against him, ask him to move positions because it could be over at any moment. And your need is screaming at you to get his mouth right where you crave it. 

“You wanted a kiss… here?” Joel asks slyly, ghosting his lips along your already slick seam, pulsing with want. He presses his lips a little harder when your breathing catches into a tiny moan. “That right?”

“I-I- my lips… but… yes…” you slur out, your head getting even more dizzy and frazzled from hanging upside down for so long.

Joel’s breath skitters hot over your core and you whimper. “Yes, who?” he commands, brushing his stubble along your inner thigh, teasing.

“M-master, daddy… please…” you pant out, your hips bucking in his tight hold, pressed down harder. It’s been a while since you’ve used that word, and it has Joel’s body tensing, his blood running hot from hearing you still sharing the sentiment of his ownership all these months later. 

“Master’s little pet,” he growls out, rutting against the couch to satiate even the tiniest bit of need from his stiff cock, the most sinister smirk on his face as you try to peer up at him, your head flopping back down as a pleasant faintness washes over you again. When his tongue licks a stripe up your panties, your eyes roll back, back arching against the couch, wailing out a pathetic moan that you normally might be embarrassed about. But you find right now, whiskey coursing through your bloodstream, you couldn’t care less about much other than Joel’s lips and how much they can do for you.

His mouth closes in, sucking around your clit through your underwear, the duller sensation still enough to send a speedy shudder through you, pleases falling from your lips for him to give you more. 

“Yeah? You want more, honey?” 

Joel’s face falls when instead of an enthusiastic nod, you shake your head. “Daddy, I- it hurts… please, need t’move,” you say, your voice wobbly as it comes out, squirming to try to find a comfortable way for your hanging body. Your head is pounding with the position you’re been held in, skin burning around where his fingers have been holding you in this awkward, unnatural position. Your feet kick into the open air, on pins and needles as they start to fall asleep from the strange angle they’re at. 

You hear Joel’s displeased huff at the same time he lets you go, your body slumping down onto the couch, squirming to try to put yourself right side up. He plods around the furniture, an arm of his underneath your shoulder in a flash, dragging and then lifting you. 

“P-please, sir, I just wanted…” you sputter out when you see his eyes boring into yours, flashing with an insane need, at that point they start to become dangerous, unpredictable. Your head spins as you sit up and then are thrust to your feet by his hold, the whiskey turning a bit sour in your stomach. “K-know y’know best, daddy, ‘m sorry,” you slur as you fall into his hold, clutching onto him. He helps hold you up, letting you lean into his chest with a vice grip around your upper arm keeping you pulled tightly. 

“Ain’t gonna say thank you, daddy? Hm? For any of this?” he snips, shaking your arm a bit as his fingers curl tighter around it. Your eyes squeeze shut, a tiny cry escaping you and you bury yourself into his chest, both your comfort and your fear found in this solid wall of man that you now turn to. “Sharin’ my drink, gettin’ you all wet, halfway to fuckin’ you an’ you whine and complain,” he huffs, tugging you so that you pull away slightly from where you’ve been trying to soothe yourself against the softness of his t-shirt.

“‘M’sorry, daddy … I feel f-fuzzy… I couldn’t…” you slur, your world spinning even behind your shut eyes. “I-uh- I… thank you..” 

“Ungrateful,” he mutters under his breath at your apology, your body on the move now as he starts to back you up, your legs having no choice but to take the few steps until the back of your thighs bump the couch, feeling the armrest behind you. Your eyes fly open, blinking desperately while you look at Joel’s expression for any clues of what’s to come. It’s stony, determined, a recognizable coldness there that sends a shiver through you.

“Daddy…?” you ask quietly, your voice tiny and sweet, but his eyes narrow as he smirks, putting a hand up to your face and stroking your cheek. He continues to slowly push you with his body, giving you no choice but to plunk down onto the armrest, falling backwards a little as your hands grasp at anything, one planting in front of you and the other catching on the front of Joel’s shirt. He tears your hand off of his shirt, setting it where your other is holding you steady, settling you into a straddling position over the top of the armrest. Your chest heaves when Joel leans in closer, thumbing your chin with his free hand, teeth revealed in a sneer.

“You still want to get off, princess? Hm? Pussy still achin’ f’me?”

Your lips tremble, quivering as you hold back drunken tears, Joel’s face swimming in front of yours, unable to get a grip on really anything at the moment - unsteady in your grasp on the fabric of the sofa, mouth parted open, unable to speak.

“Need some manners knocked into you tonight, girl. Damn whiskey made you think you run this place, did it?” Joel finally says when you don’t answer him after several beats. He smiles at your trembling form - disheveled, dress wrinkled, fresh marks from earlier taking beautiful form on your neck: hickeys showing the world just whose whore you are. His perfect little whore, his little plaything, his. Joel’s mind feels on the cusp of something dark, practically vibrating as the sick little fantasy runs through his head - anyone seeing you knowing, eyes wide at the damage he’s done to your poor skin but undoubtedly knowing where you belong: at his side. “Turn the fuck around.”

You startle, seeming to gain back a tiny shred of autonomy. “S-sir… I- yes, I want it, I’m sorry,” you finally blurt out, finding your voice amid his threats.

“Then you’re gonna have to earn it, work for it,” he says bitingly, standing back with hands propped on his hips. “Turn. Around.”

Your legs shake as you nod fervently, picking yourself up and turning around, stumbling along the way as your head continues to spin from the alcohol. You perch yourself the same way on the arm rest, just with your ass facing him now. “L-like this, daddy?”

“Jus’ like that, baby. Can see your pretty ass now, can’t I?” he replies a little lighter, some of the darkness shooed away by your quick obedience. You just nod, Joel watching the back of your head bob a few times before you glance over your shoulder to him with wide, scared eyes.

“It’s okay, it’s okay…” he coos, reaching forward and running his fingers down your spine, branching off to stroke your left ass cheek. “You need to jus’ have a little lesson right now, sweetheart. Daddy will teach you not to be so ungrateful.”

“B-but, ‘m not,” you slur, shuddering as his hands pull your dress up, showing your ass clad in those white panties, the fabric only covering half of your cheeks when they’re spread across the armrest like this. His finger slides along your panties, tracing your ass crack, his finger suddenly prods your previously neglected hole and you tense up, feeling a sobering rush pass through you. “N-no! Thank you! Thank you, daddy! See?!” you cry out desperately, hoping to make up for the sin of apparently not being grateful to be eaten out in a position that had you halfway to getting sick all over yourself in your drunken state.

“Shh…” Joel prods a little harder, finger tracing circles around the hole now, not pushing inside, but enough stimulation that it sends a terrified jolt through you. “Y’know this belongs to me too, sweetheart,” he tells you, and you swallow hard, rocking your hips instinctively to move away from the touch, catching that sensitive bundle of nerves between your thighs on something incredible, something so delicious that you have to fight the urge to do it again. You try to hold back your whine, but Joel had already seen your body twitch, transfixed on it.

“That’s right, baby. Daddy wants you to work for it, honey, gonna get yourself off while daddy has his fun,” Joel says, gripping your hip with his left hand and urging you forward again, making that same rocking motion that pulls a morsel of relief from your blazing body, your cunt so achy with need it’s been driving you insane, even despite Joel’s cruel words these last few minutes.

“Harder,” he commands when he sees your hips moving too delicately, so self conscious as he watches on, palms rubbing on your ass, giving it light pats just to watch the flesh there jiggle and bounce. 

You glance back at him, picking up the pace, watching his eyes fixed on your ass, the way you move against the old, plaid fabric of the couch. You start to moan quietly, rolling your hips in just the right way to satiate your need, the relief of it overwhelming as it builds up a dull, pleasant tingling deep inside of you. Joel’s fingers hook onto your panties, trying to pull them down, your body accommodating him by lifting your hips just right for him to shimmy them down, leaving them pooling at one ankle once your legs are through.

“Need to see you makin’ a mess, blossom, there we go,” Joel says, forcefully pushing your hips back down to the armrest, your moans even louder now as you give in to it all, hips moving immodestly without shame along the couch. 

“Daaaddy…” you whimper quietly when his finger gently traces along your ass again, moving towards your tight hole. You feel fear pulse through you, not sure you understand the intention behind it, that it’s even a viable option to be something sexual, but Joel has always been more in the know than you when it comes to these things. His pointer finger dips to your slit, letting you ride his digit for a few moments as your legs go shaky, twitching slightly as he stimulates your clit along with the couch, gathering up slickness. Satisfied, he slips it backwards, gently creeping his way further towards your asshole, the wetness coating between your cheeks and he pushes his way in. 

“I- I- daddy…?” you question urgently, fearful of making him feel like you don’t trust him, a serious punishment already half looming, but in this moment, you’re not entirely sure what the hell he’s doing. Your chest goes tight, holding your breath without realizing it. 

Joel’s other hand trails relaxing movements along your ass cheek, trying to calm you. “Jus’ relax, blossom, it’ll go in easier that way. Keep on makin’ yourself feel good.”

You swallow hard and continue to grind on the arm of the couch trying to turn your shaky breaths more even as you feel his thick digit breach your tight asshole, so untouched that Joel finds it hard to control himself, remembering to keep it to one knuckle at a time. He can feel you relaxing, struggling to wrangle with your feelings and the new sensation together, but you quietly sigh as you adjust and his finger moves the slightest bit inside of you. 

“Jus’ the one finger today, daddy promises,” he speaks softly, wriggling it in a little further, sending a tiny gasp out of your mouth. “That’s right…” Joel coos, face twisting into a devious smirk when he catches the way your lips pop open from your side profile as you try to turn and look back at him. 

“How’s that, princess, hm? Daddy feels good right now, huh?”

You nod, mouth still hanging open as his finger starts to pump slowly, just the one knuckle in and out until he tries a little more, making you whimper. “F-feels good…” you moan, hips picking up the pace as you chase your high. 

“Good,” Joel says simply, retreating the finger and leaving you slumping over slightly, already missing the strange, full sensation in such a new place. He steps into your view, coming around to your front with his cock already out, pumping his fist along it for several strokes. He taps the thick, leaking head of it on your cheek, your lips already parting and waiting, not an unusual routine for the two of you when Joel wants himself in your mouth.

“Oh, you’re actin’ extra good ‘cause daddy’s upset, aren’t ya?” he coos condescendingly. “Got your mouth ready and waitin’ like daddy’s good little whore…” You nod and he drags his cock across your cheek, inwards to where he circles your lips with it, spreading his precum, your tongue desperate to dart out and taste it, taste him - the man you worship to no end, aching to just pleasure him in any way possible. “Pretty…” he murmurs as he pushes inward, your mouth starting to open wide, wider, painfully at its widest as he fills your mouth. 

It hurts like hell, but the burn makes you feel alive, something you’d never felt before Joel showed it to you. Your drool already pools around his length, dripping down, the scene so lewd you can only imagine how it looks from Joel’s angle. 

“Didn’t tell you that you could stop,” he snips as soon as he notices that your hips haven’t been moving along the armrest, the pursuit of your own high given up when Joel had begun to seek his. His hand lands on the back of your head, helping guide himself a bit further, starting the bobbing motion that helps you take him a little deeper each time, he’s noticed. It’ll always be a stretch for you, but like most things, he’s determined to train you to the best of his abilities. 

Your hips stutter along the couch, eyes rolling back as the pleasure hits you over again. You’re more shameless now, something about the depraved condition you’re in making you groan and whine pathetically around Joel’s cock as your hips rock in quicker spasms, your clit puffy and aching for release. 

“That’s it… you take this cock like such a good fuckin’ pet, blossom. Takin’ your little lesson so good…” Joel praises you as he gazes down at your lips stretched wide around him. You moan higher and higher pitched around Joel’s cock as it slides in and out of your mouth, a sure sign that you’re close. You look terrified, desperate at the thought of coming without his permission, and Joel decides to have mercy on you. 

“Come for daddy, go ahead if you need to,” he says, and sure enough, he watches the beautiful thing that is you falling apart at his words, his command sending you over the edge as you twitch and bear down on the armrest, groaning with your mouth still stuffed full. You’re limp, Joel’s hands doing all the work for you as it pushes your head up and down on his cock, your mouth only a vessel at this point before he spills down your throat, gagging you at the last moment with only pure satisfaction in his eyes. 

“Thas’ good, thas’ perfect, baby,” he concludes, petting the back of your head as he slides out of your mouth, sending you falling forward a bit, head bowed with relief. 

You’re still hazy in your tipsy state, unsure exactly how the two of you ended up on the floor, entwined with each other. Joel has laid out blankets and pillows, you closing your eyes to stop the soft spinning of the world around you as you try to sober up a bit. Joel’s fingers are sweet as honey now, more than making up for his cruel treatment. He traces lines down your arms, swirling his fingers along the top of your chest, skating over your hips, turning you into his own personal altar before he lazily slides his fingers between your legs. You don’t even feel his intention is to make you come, but just to keep you feeling a dull ache of pleasure as he gently strokes your puffy, still wet lips.

“Y’feel good, daddy,” you say groggily, peeking your eyes open to look at where he lays next to you, propped up on one arm to face you, other hand still out of sight buried deep in your thighs. The world has stopped spinning for the most part, and you’re grateful you can look at him now without feeling sick.

A tiny twitch takes over you when he thumbs your clit, then moves his hands back to your hips, starting the process all over again, letting his fingers wander to all unexplored corners of your body. “Yeah? You like when daddy is bein’ nice, don’t you?”

You give him a tired huff of laughter and nod, turning a little more to face him properly. “Yeah, but… earlier was okay, too,” you tell him shyly, eyes averted past him to the small, wood burning fireplace, too hot to be lit tonight.

Joel smirks, brows twitching upwards at your confession. He’d gathered that you got off on both things - his gentle side in moments like this, but also to his surprise, degradation. He loved to give both to you just as much as you loved to receive it. “So you like daddy bein’ mean too, that it?”

“I like… all of it,” you confess, giving him a languid half smile with lazy, slow blinks in his direction. 

“I like all of it, too, honey,” he replies, and you look into his eyes, getting the sense that he means it. He sighs suddenly, his fingers moving to your cheek, so soft beneath him that it’s his own personal form of heaven, how soft and supple you are all over, almost hard to believe sometimes that something as special as you would keen at his touch.

“Y’know, baby,” Joel starts solemnly. “Tomorrow is gonna change things.” His words are too vague, cryptic, and you just stare at him, swallowing hard as anxiety creeps in along your features, eyes filling with dread. “Do you understand what I mean?”

You shake your head softly. “I don’t know, daddy.” Your hand moves, a little shaky as it grabs onto where his still sits on your cheek.

“The world ain’t built to, well, accept people like us, yeah?” Upon giving him the same unsure look, he goes on. “I don’t expect that we’re gonna be given a warm welcome when they see us together. It’s… unusual. Surely you have to know that, blossom.”

You twist your lips to the side, your eyes suddenly feeling a pull behind them, hot, prickling tears pooling. “I don’t… I mean… I guess so, daddy. I just thought maybe the way I grew up was abnormal, after what you said about it.”

Joel shakes his head, then it turns to a shrug. “Well, in a sense, yes, darlin’. They were abnormal there, sounds like. But their wantin’ to have a good wife and husband, perfect family, everyone in their righteous places ‘n such, that’s how a lot of the world works. An’ probably a lot of people there in Jackson feel that same way.”

“So… they’ll think we’re… what? Bad? W-weird? What, daddy?” Your voice comes out slightly more urgent, shaking as you fear what he’s about to tell you. You wish you could close your ears, go back and never have to have this conversation, be confronted with things that deep down, you’d known were true, but were too caught up in wanting to make the most of things here with Joel to really reflect upon.

“Wrong. They’ll think we’re wrong, blossom.”

The words hit you heavily, your shoulders falling, feeling like you’re sinking into the floor below you as your heart races and head starts to spin a little again. “Do you? Think we’re wrong, daddy?” you ask, voice hoarse and quiet now as you barely get the words out.

“Oh, baby, I d-” he starts, pressing his lips together sympathetically. “I don’t know. No, not really. This is all I ever wanted, sweetheart. How could it be wrong when we both like it so much?”

His positive swing upwards makes you smile a little, giving him a nod. “Yeah, that’s true,” you say thoughtfully. “I like it. I like… this…” you say, reaching up to touch your collar, tracing along the curve of it. “I like being good for you.”

Joel leans over, kissing your forehead tenderly, pushing all the affection he can muster into it. “I know you do, baby. And daddy appreciates it so much. We jus’ gotta be prepared for people to not be acceptin’ of what we have, not see that it’s good for us, right?”

Your smile grows. “Right,” you say more confidently. 

“They don’t know that we got somethin’ special, do they? That daddy and his blossom are meant for each other, huh?” he asks, starting to tease, that slight bit of talking down to you, of showing your age compared to his always making you so pliant for him. You giggle a little, tucking your head closer to Joel, loving the way he describes just how special you are to him, something you don’t get to hear very often.

“Yes, daddy, they don’t know,” you confirm, nodding into his chest. They really don’t, you think confidently to yourself, and you’re prepared to show them.

Birdsong coming in through the wide open windows in the kitchen, usually a welcome delight, feels distracting and grating this morning as you stare out, watching the blooming day, early morning oranges and yellows shining through the trees. Your hands clutched around the warm mug of your tea start to itch, almost like you’re crawling out of your skin. You don’t hear him the first time, his heavy footfall coming back up the porch and inside, calling for you. 

“Did you hear me?” he asks, knocking on the wood of the table. Your gaze flies from where you’d been staring out the window at nothing in particular, lost somewhere deep in your mind. 

“S-sorry, sir,” you say, clearing your head with a quick shake. 

“Said we’re ready to go,” Joel says, repeating himself. “You finish that?” he asks, peering down at your mug. 

“No… sorry,” you say again, picking up the mug and downing the rest, the strange, medicinal taste having grown on you over the months but never something necessarily pleasant to drink. 

“Soundin’ like a broken record in here,” Joel says, brows raised as he snatches the cup out of your hand, starting a quick rinse on it. 

“Sor-“ you cut yourself off at the light glare over his shoulder, smiling softly. “I’m ready,” you say instead. 

“An’ you got everythin we talked about? Only one outfit in your bag, right? No need to pack heavier than necessary,” Joel says practically, striding to the front door and handing you your backpack, filled with only a few things. One extra piece of clothing, socks, and underwear, then the specified toiletries he allowed which were only the basics. No need to pack like you’re goin’ on a luxury vacation, sweetheart. Not that you really owned anything that would suggest that, anyways. 

He doesn’t need to know that you’d snuck in one of your hair ribbons, the special, silky ones he’d brought back from Jackson, the other one currently placed in your hair. Joel had scoffed in a way that you knew meant he thought it was completely unnecessary for such rough conditions - horseback for a day's time and camping overnight - yet he couldn’t help but admire that you looked too damn cute.

You give him a nod, and watch as he secures everything - windows shut, door locked from the outside as he’s done to you before - strange to see it from this perspective, the one thing that had kept you inside all those times he’d been gone, practically picturing yourself pacing back and forth right behind this very door. 

What he holds up next has your jaw dropping a little, eyes wide with wonder. “I thought we could try somethin’,” he explains smugly, the black leather sliding through his fingers. “To keep you safe out here, right by daddy’s side. Know we’ve only worn it in the house before, but this’ll be good. For you. An’ for me, honey.”

At your quiet, processing stare he takes it as permission - not that he’d ask for it anyways - stepping forward and clipping the leash onto your o-ring, smiling at the sight of you outside with it on. Your head cocked, docile body language with the leather adorning you is affecting him even more than he’d dreamed. He gives it a playful tug, sending you surging forward into him, and you give him a weak giggle. 

“Okay, there we go, good to see you laughin’, sweetheart,” Joel says brightly. 

“I’m sorry, daddy, I’m just nervous,” you tell him, and he puts his arm around you, guiding you down the porch with your leash in his other hand. “I don’t want people to not like me there.”

“I know,” he says, turning his head to kiss the top of yours as you approach Willow, all saddled up and ready to go, the small cart already hitched behind her. “But we don’t answer to them. You don’t answer to them.”

“Yes sir,” you say quietly. No, you think, there is only one person in this world you answer to, and he’s got you so wrapped around his finger that you’re currently leash bound.

Joel helps boost you up, taking your pack and putting it in the cart along with his own before saddling up behind you, pressing himself close, reaching around to grab the leash in his hand. It makes you feel a strange sense of calm while setting all your nerves on edge, burning hot as you feel the collar slightly strained when Joel adjusts the leash in his hand every so often. Whatever this feeling is, you crave more of it, especially now that you’re out in the open - your mind flashes through images of people seeing you like this and you can’t help but clench your thighs tightly together. You like how much you belong, how anyone who saw you would know just how much you were cared about, how well taken care of by your daddy.

Joel seems to pay no mind to your sudden change in energy, or he simply refuses to show his satisfaction at how much he can tell you’re enjoying yourself, how affected you are by the leash. He’s always known, though, that your mind holds dirtier secrets than you’d let on. So he just keeps Willow going on his well worn trail towards Jackson, watching your nervousness slowly being replaced with excitement as you two ride on into the bright and clear day. 

Joel isn’t very talkative, which isn’t anything new - most days when you two are focused on a task he isn’t the most open book you’ve ever met. You find yourself happy to just bask in the spring sunshine with him, getting lost in your own daydreams and studying the passing wildlife, once and a while pointing things out to Joel excitedly, typically only getting a smile and grunt of approval from him in return. 

You feel a slight jolt after several hours, Willow slowing down drastically as a distant sound sends a shiver down your spine. 

“Was that-“ you start, cut off when Joel slaps a hand over your mouth, his warm skin burning into your cheeks as his huge palm takes over the entire bottom half of your face, squeezing tightly.

“Shh,” he hisses in your ear, moving Willow along at a slow trot, the horse moving with whinnies and unease as his hand white knuckles around the reins. The tension in the air is thick, the sound coming once more but even more faded, further out of earshot. Your breathing is strained and shaky against his palm until he finally releases it a moment later.

“It’s far ‘nough away, we’re alright, baby,” he tells you, quickly rubbing your shoulder. “Sorry if that was a scare. Jus’ had to make sure.”

You swallow, nodding as your breath comes back to you, slowing down finally as you place a soothing hand over your chest, the other hanging on to Willow for dear life. “T-that was one of them, wasn’t it? I’ve heard that sound before,” you ask timidly, feeling your voice coming back to you.

Joel’s brows knit while he peers down at you, unsure if he’s heard you correctly, unable to believe anyone in this world could be unsure of that undeniable, spine chilling sound. The screech of danger in the vicinity, the only warning you’ll be lucky enough to receive to get the hell away from here. Even Joel himself had been surprised by it, almost never encountering infected along this route for all the years he’s been expertly traversing it back and forth. He can’t allow himself to think about the implications of infected being this far out in the wilderness, his heart was still taking it’s time slowing down, having leapt and fallen at the same time, terrified of putting you in that kind of danger.

“You say that like… you ain’t hardly heard one before, blossom.”

Your lips twist, chewing the inside of them as one of your countless nervous habits. “I mean - I have… not much, though. When I was on my own, before your place - uh, our place,” you correct yourself, something Joel had been getting on you about recently. It’s your home as much as it is mine now, he’d tell you. “I’d, uh, hear that kind of noise, then just hide… I thought it was them but wasn’t sure.” You say it like it’s a secret, like you’re ashamed, but Joel only has room to be stunned. 

His blink of surprise is missed by you sitting in front of him, staring off at the trail ahead, all dirt and brush for miles ahead. “You’ve seen ‘em… right, baby? How could you not?”

“No…” you murmur. “Well…” you hesitate, and Joel feels something shift, his curiosity piqued at the way you squirm in the saddle, watching your chest rise and fall with a long, drawn out sigh. “I’d only seen one of them once, really, before I had to leave my old community,” you say thoughtfully, your words careful and slow, tiptoeing around something Joel can’t quite put his finger on yet. 

“Yeah, that so?” Joel replies, lost in thought on just how much the opposite of you he is - the dozens and dozens of infected he’s seen, fought, and killed over the years. He can’t fathom almost never having come into contact with those monsters, a life without that worry. “Just the one?”

“Yes…” you squeak out, and Joel immediately catches the tension that radiates as you stiffen against his body, glancing down over your shoulder at the stony expression you’re wearing. He bites the inside of his lip, wondering how far to go, if he can push you just enough to satiate his curiosity, or if it’s wrong of him to even want to press you in the first place.

“It- it was my father,” you suddenly say before Joel can even respond, a little shaky like you’d forced yourself to push the words out before you lost your nerve. You let the sentence hang in the air, heavy, thick, nearly choking you. The fact that you’ve hardly even mentioned your family to Joel - your real family - not Harry and Josephine, has you feeling odd, like he doesn’t even know about such a big part of you. But they haven’t been for a long time, anyways. Nor had they ever, really, if you thought about it too hard, which always ended up making you feel sad. 

“He, uh, didn’t say anything, I guess, when he got bit out on a supply run. Wanted to see my mother one last time, or something. He didn’t say much about me, but, er,” you clear your throat, suddenly sounding hoarse. “He thought…. that he could be saved if he waited it out, since he was so - so devout. At least, that’s what he said… What they told all of us.” You feel your fists clench tight in front of you, that old, buried anger that bruised you so, so deeply rising it’s way to the surface of your skin. You half expect to look down and see your younger self, your younger body, the way you’ve taken yourself right back there for a split second.

“Christ,” Joel mutters under his breath, tightening his supporting arm around you as he steers Willow with the other. “You’re brave, honey, you really are,” he adds on with conviction, for once nearly at a loss for words with you.

“Yeah, maybe,” you sigh out. Another long silence follows - quiet rustling of trees, wind whistling past your ears that taunts you with its contrasting jauntiness. “He should have known better,” you finally say, quiet enough you aren’t sure Joel will hear it. 

“He should have, you’re right,” Joel agrees. “He hurt any of you? When he was… turnin’?”

You shake your head. “No. It woke us all up, the screaming… my mom. Then we ran. We… saw him before the neighbors got him. He was different, but all I remember is that his skin looked so odd… so…” you trail off, blinking a few times to clear your hazy eyes. “He could have had a chance to say goodbye, but instead -”

You feel Joel’s lips on the back of your head, his warmth wriggling a bit closer to you, holding you tightly. “I got you, sweetheart. I got you. I’m sorry,” he says softly, his own voice almost sounding choked up, but you’re in no good position to turn around and check for such a miracle, something that you know will remain a mystery to you. 

It’s quiet again for a long time, and you rest back onto Joel, leaning your weight into him a little. He can feel the heaviness of your soul, the way your mind turns over, likely replaying the events of the day you’d just described to him. Your pain is there, yes, but maybe not in the way Joel is assuming at how quiet you’ve gone. It’s a dull ache, and it has been for a very long time, once you’d learned to become numb to it. You spent years crying over your family in private, so much so that you lost all sense of time, of your life, as you’d been taken in by your new family, just as rotten as the rest, it turned out. Joel had told you what they were - Harry and Josephine - but despite all of that they’d taken you in when you needed someone the most, and you were thankful for that at the least. They helped you through the power of belief and prayer, and for a time you suppose it really had been the balm you needed, something to cling on to. Until it wasn’t anymore.

“We should stop for the night,” Joel says finally, squinting into the impending darkness, breaking through the depths of your thoughts back to your present self. You blink hard, giving him a nod to show that you understand, but nothing more. Joel’s heart pulls at him, an unfamiliar ache to see you drawn so tightly in on yourself, so bogged down by the past. He holds your hand, allowing you some stability as you climb down off of Willow and let him lead you to the makeshift campsite - a shaded area a bit off the trail where he rolls out the sleeping bag for you, patting it.

“You should get some rest, honey, been a long day,” he says, and you silently obey, plopping down onto the sleeping bag before pulling yourself inside, rolling up an old jacket to use as a pillow. Your eyes track Joel as he flits around for a moment, grabbing some jerky out of his pack and sitting against a nearby tree, eating it with an absent look in his eyes.

“Daddy?” you say quietly, sending his eyes over to you, brow raised slightly in response, asking you to go on. “Can… can I move closer?”

Joel’s shoulders lose an ounce of their perpetual tension, falling as he sighs out a sympathetic little hum. “Sure, baby, c’mere,” he responds, patting his thick, jean clad thighs.

You wriggle your way to him, still inside the sleeping bag, awkwardly dragging it along and laying yourself next to him. You both laugh a little at your struggle, a welcome balm to the day as Joel feels relief flood him at the flash of lightness in your eyes. Your head is down again, this time on his thigh, staring up towards him with a soft smile. 

“That better, princess? You comfy?” he asks facetiously, taunting you.

“Very, thank you,” you quip back with just as much attitude. “What about you, daddy? You don’t have a sleeping bag?”

Joel shakes his head. “I’ve jus’ had the one for all these years. I’ve gotta keep watch anyhow.”

“You’re not gonna sleep?” you ask, unsurprised - you’d expected as much. Neither of you have seen or heard a soul other than that distant screech of the infected earlier, but you know Joel doesn’t take chances like this. Ever. Not with you involved.

Another shake of his head. “Jus’... try to get some rest, yeah?” he says, a familiar tactic to try to divert your attention with a soft command from him. You know he’s right, but your mind is still spinning, turning faster than you can keep up with, like a dam that’s now burst open with water rushing past as information about your life that you suddenly feel compelled to share with Joel now that you’ve started. You pop your hands out of the sleeping back, folding them over your belly, soft breaths rising and falling.

“Don’t you want to know?” you ask. 

“Know what?”

“Well, more. About my family. You know they’re all… gone. You didn’t ask me any questions, really.”

Joel huffs, slightly amused at your uncharacteristic directness. “Didn’t feel like it was somethin’ I should push,” he says. “You really want to say more ‘bout all that?”

“I do… want you to know, even if it’s hard.”

Joel’s chest pangs, clenching tight at your words. He’s never been one for talking about the past, or dwelling on it openly, at least, which is something he’s told you repeatedly any time you tried to do any digging. Past’s the past. His broken record of a phrase always falling from his lips whenever things got too close, too painful. You’d mostly been doing that for years too, leaving the past in the past, but somehow it caught up to you, right in this vulnerable, tiny moment with Joel. Your longing to have him see this part of you, the piece that’s still buried deep in the chasmic corners of your soul and the part that's not his perfect pet, his blank slate to draw all over, makes the words start to bubble up out of your throat before Joel can even respond to you.

“They all went quick after my dad, you know. That same winter, maybe a few months after - I think it was autumn when my dad turned? My brother got sick, and kids are always getting sick around town, but this one didn’t go away, and we didn’t know how to fix it. We didn’t have enough of anything - no hospitals, nothing we had helped him, so… we all prayed. And he died,” you swallow, licking your cracked lips, wishing your mouth hadn’t dried up so much - you’re not sure you’ve talked this much at once about your past before. “I didn’t really understand, I don’t think. Until I saw my mother, her eyes… and I realized that it was like my dad, that he wasn’t coming back to play, he wasn’t waking up anymore, and -“

Joel instinctively strokes your head when your voice breaks into a tiny crackle. “Shh… you don’t have to-” he starts, but you bolt upwards, lifting your head from where it was nestled in his lap, looking into his eyes, your own turned into narrow slits. 

“No. I want you to know. You’re - you’re all I have left. I may not be all you have, but… I don’t know if I know a single other soul in this world. If anyone where I grew up is still alive, or if they were all killed when we got ambushed and I ran like a coward. My family, everyone - you’re… it.”

Joel swallows hard, staring at you, his mouth slightly hanging open in surprise before he can collect himself. Something about being outside the confines of the cabin, the stress of the unknowns you’ve faced today, has you feeling like someone else, someone you’re not sure you’re wanting to get to know more. He’s never heard you speak like this, your voice slightly foreign as it hits his ears, the desperate demanding behind it something that breaks a tiny part inside of him, too hurt to even care if you’re bordering on insolent. The only reason he was trying to silence you was for himself, to spare him the pain of facing anything resembling grief, whether it be your burden or his. He can’t… touch it. But you deserved this, at the least, for him to listen to your story. 

“I-I’m sorry, daddy…” you say more softly, realizing how much you’ve forgotten yourself. “I didn’t mean to get mad, I - I…” 

Joel’s arms are around you in the next second, hugging you close to him with a thud against his chest. “No, baby, s’alright, I know, I know,” he coos next to your ear, and you sigh softly, threading your arms around his neck and returning the embrace. “Thas’ why I knew… I needed to take care of you, that’s why. I wanted to be that for you, yeah?”

You nod into his shoulder, your eyes burning with fresh tears, an errant sniffle giving you away and prompting Joel to squeeze you. 

“You can tell me if you want,” he says quietly, putting aside his own discomfort. “I won’t stop you, okay?” You give him another nod and sniffle in reply before he decides to prompt you along. “C’mere, lay back down. Right there, thas’ it,” he says, guiding your head back to his lap, falling into the small gap between his outstretched legs. Returning to your rightful place, you’re tamed back to the girl you love being for him, letting a small silence stretch on as you gaze up at the peek of starlight coming through the treetops above. 

“Then it was my mom. She didn’t care anymore - about me, or anything. She just kind of… gave up. I mean, she never really paid much mind to me before, I was more trouble that it was worth, I think,” you laugh a tiny sound, something bitter. “But then it was like I didn’t even exist. And I think she decided she didn’t want to be around anymore… she couldn’t…” You’ve never been able to say the words, ones you don’t know how to comprehend to this day, but simultaneously have understood completely at certain moments of your life. Never enough, though, to follow in her footsteps, meet her again if what they say about life and death is true.

Joel’s breath catches in his throat, now laden with a thick lump, one he attempts to swallow down to no avail. He’s frozen, his body tingling that numb sensation when you’re hit with something so profoundly heartbreaking you have no choice but to absorb it viscerally. “Oh, sweetheart,” he breathes out, “Are you sayin’ what I think you are?”

You don’t answer him right away, searching for the words. “I-I didn’t find her, or anything, though. Nothing like that. She went… away to do it,” you say, flashing images of the nearby lake that you’d spent hours swimming in throughout your childhood, a place you never set foot near again, tainted beyond repair. 

“How old were you?” Joel asks simply, shaking his head.

“Ten.” Deadpan. Like you’ve never thought twice about the fact that you were barely along in life when you lost everything you’d ever known.

“Fuck,” he whispers, his eyes closing a beat too long, nearly rolling in frustration for you - a life too young to be so painful, to have endured such unspeakable tragedy. “That’s… baby, that’s a tough deal. I don’t know what to say ‘cept I’m sorry. Real sorry you didn’t get the life you deserve out there.”

“It’s okay… it was a long time ago now,” you tell him, your voice lightening enough that he feels more at ease, like he hasn’t completely dragged you back to depths of despair that you possibly haven’t dared to visit for years.

“Not that long ago, though.”

“Feels like it.”

Joel chuckles softly, a hand on the side of your head out of instinct, rubbing soothing patterns down your soft cheeks with his calloused fingertips. “Know what you mean, sweetheart.”

You sigh and turn onto your side, resting your cheek on his leg now, letting your eyes focus in on the blackness in front of you, just two voices in the dark now without faces. It’s more comforting this way for some reason, not being able to see Joel, to just throw your words out into the night, praying that maybe now, you’ll never have to face them again. Maybe now, they can float off into the gentle breeze that sends a tiny, cleansing shiver through you, making you burrow further down into the sleeping bag. 

“It’s not all bad, right, daddy? I made it out here with you, and - and - we’re okay, aren’t we?” you ask, sounding more like yourself with your naive words and mousy little voice.

A smile dares to pull on his lips, hearing you bring it back to him in one of your darkest moments. A testament to the fact that he brings you that comfort, he gives you that security you’ve been craving. You’ve never been more clear to him, more understood than right now, and he almost feels guilt creeping in at it all - the way he’d been able to mould you so easily, to pick at your deepest fears and needs too quickly before even knowing the depths of your story. He does almost feel remorse for how easy prey you’ve been to the predator within him, the one that was formed by his circumstances just as much as yours were. But only almost. Because just as much as you’d been lost, he’d be lost without you, now.

He looks down, barely able to make out your form below him as his eyes adjust to the dark. The fuzzy curve of your body curled into him, seeking refuge from the storm you’ve unleashed. Seeking your shelter.

“Yeah, blossom, we are.”

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

reminder i have no taglist, follow @beardedjoel-updates to hear about my new fics!

smother - part xiii: exhibition

dark!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: your time in jackson is nothing like you expect - it brings up so many more questions than answers, leaving you frustrated. 16.7k words. chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI! dubcon - stockholm syndrome, innocent reader, big juicy age gap (reader is 19, joel is 55), ddlg/daddy dom! joel, sub!reader, smut, harsh fucking, degradation, cum play, blink and miss it breeding kink, reader is referred to as a pet, reader wears a collar and leash (in public!!), reader has hair and outfits are described. if the darker tags aren't your thing please keep scrolling- i'm not responsible for the content you consume! a/n: it's been a month, thanks for sticking with me y'all. i'm very proud of the nuance of deeper emotions this chapter holds along with the pure insanity and for somehow making it almost 17k words along the way! also their shit is so fucked up and they're so codependent i'm obsessed with them! anyway! i know it's a lot but i absolutely get lost in building this world and am super thankful you all stay along for the ride. icymi there is some very delicious juicy art of these two i got commissioned here !

How could he have known?

Joel can’t help but turn over your words, the story you’d bravely shared with him that night, watching you twitch and move restlessly in your sleep while he kept watch. Poor girl. 

But he can’t think like that. He can’t let these needless sympathies pour in and distract him from protecting you, doing his solemn duty towards you. Make him feel more than he really should. But reflection is a fickle minded monster when you’re surrounded by darkness, nothing other than the softness of your breathing and the buzz of insects coming out for an early summer. 

Joel’s only respite from the swirling in his gut is when he allows himself only brief moments of sleep, the tiniest of naps when he simply can’t hold his eyes open anymore throughout the long, dark night until daybreak causes him to stir for good. He sits forward in a panic, the pressure and warmth of your closeness no longer there, sending his heart picking up for only a brief moment until he sees you, your back turned to him over by the cart containing all of your things. An old jacket, far too oversized, draped around your shoulders in the chill of the morning as you’re crouched down, digging through his backpack across the way, popping up to then give Willow a pat as she grazes on the dewy grass. 

He moves with a grunt to sit up further, his body stiff and aching, stinging eyes heavy and tired. You throw your head over your shoulder and give him a smile, the sight accompanied by your eyes shining along with it, morning light spilling in through the trees, just feels right. 

You’re over to him in a second, down on the ground, straddling his outstretched legs, throwing your arms around his neck and a soft press of your lips to his scruffy cheek. “Morning, daddy,” you coo sweetly, and Joel grumbles pleasantly, still finding his voice. “Was just gonna get a snack,” you explain, knowing that he had to be wondering why you were elbow deep in his backpack only moments ago. 

“Mornin’, sweet girl. You’re up early,” he says gruffly, finally clearing his throat. 

“Sun woke me up,” you say, nuzzling yourself against his cheek again. As much of a welcome show of affection you’re giving him, Joel feels like his mind is playing catch up with the droll version of you from last night that shared such tragedy with him and this flirty, bubbly you he’s seeing right now. 

“Hey,” Joel says, grabbing your now heated cheeks between his palms and looking you over. “You alright?”

“Mhm,” you chirp, sliding off of his lap and standing up, dusting yourself off. “I’m good, daddy.” 

“Not so fast,” Joel calls out, his vice grip on your wrist stopping you from moving any further. He tugs and you come back down to his level, crouching. “All the way. Daddy wants to talk to you.” When you oblige with the tiniest eye roll Joel decides to let it slide, only giving you a sidelong glance in warning. 

“You… shared a lot w’me yesterday… I don’t think you should be ignorin’ that,” Joel says once you settle back down into a straddling position. 

“I’m fine,” you quickly retort, suddenly leaning forward to try to kiss him again, hips grinding down enticingly. You know what you’re doing, and Joel would be an idiot to not remind you who’s in charge here. 

“Woah, blossom, easy,” he says, his hand easily finding the back of your collar and tugging, pulling you back from where your lips are heading towards his. “You’re tryna get a punishment here or something? Ignoring me when I’m talkin’ to you?”

You huff, shaking your head. “No… I’m just…” you whine, surging forward despite his hold to catch his lips on yours, planting a long peck there, trailing your nose down along his cheek to his neck after pulling off. “Just excited,” you murmur into his hot, dewy skin, promptly cut off when Joel yanks you back again, harder this time. You let out a tiny mewl, a sound caught between pain and pleasure, your blood running hot at the way he’s roughly handling you. You crave it now, need it like your own air, wanting him to show you affection in one of the only ways he knows how. 

Joel bristles, doubling down. “The hell? You want a spanking? You want daddy to have to hurt you? Hm? That what you’re after here?”

“No!” You squirm, fighting his hold now, feeling a sudden rage coursing through you, frustration that Joel can’t understand you, what you need right now. It’s overwhelming and you flare your nostrils, huffing to get out of the tight grip he has on you. “I… I want… to forget!” you spit out, your chest suddenly heaving with the weight of holding back your tears. “Again. I forgot for a long time.”

Joel softens, a sympathetic click of his tongue followed by his contorted face falling slightly, the sneer still on his lips but cracking quickly. His grip loosens on the back of your collar, threading along your scalp and then flat against your head, stroking. “Okay, honey,” he concedes. “I helped you forget all that bad stuff?”

“Mhm,” you admit simply, your voice now a hoarse little whisper. Your face burns hot from the heat of the moment, embarrassment for lashing out so severely on him, words now lost on you. 

Joel inches closer, scrutinizing eyes and his breath fanning hot, your head tilting to accommodate the incoming kiss. “You know how I feel about mhm,” he says, low and gravelly. 

“Y-yes, sir,” you squeak out, frowning with a familiar fear that creeps up on you, not knowing which way this is going to go with Joel. 

“Come here,” he growls suddenly, urgently, as his head moves forward with force, his hand splayed on the back of your head jerking you forward towards him as well. His lips clash with yours, heated and hungry, and your mind quickly empties as the tears that had been brimming burn your eyes, leaking out as you shut them and dive into the kiss. 

He laps into your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip and sliding his tongue over the tiny wounds each time, your breathing heavy as you start to whimper at the sensation. Joel’s hands glide down the curve of your spine, both planted on your ass before his right hand delivers a hard smack to one of the cheeks. You jump, whimpering with a quiet yelp as your skin stings, the hurt fading just in time for another spank to be delivered on the same raw spot. 

“D-daddy…” you whine quietly against his lips, and you can feel his curl up, a sinister smirk as he delivers a third spank, watching your mouth gape open when you inhale sharply. 

“Daddy’ll make you feel all better, s’okay,” he mutters, his hand curving around your hip, bunching up the gown you’d slept in last night and wasting no time cupping your aching sex, relief flooding you but it’s not enough - more more more, the words running through your clouded mind so quickly you can’t be sure that you aren’t chanting them out loud in a whisper. 

“Jesus,” Joel whispers, his fingers curling along your slit, making you mewl softly when he brushes over your clothed clit. “Fuckin’ wet, you dirty little girl,” he says harshly into your ear, pulling you closer, delving his fingers underneath the band of your panties, shimmying them aside. He has to physically restrain himself for a moment, unable to believe what belongs to him, the way you gush at the smallest advances, just a few simple smacks on your ass and you’re done for, putty in his hands.

“Mhm…” you moan, your head lolling forward with eyes fluttering shut, and Joel responds by slapping your left ass cheek in warning, making you jump. “Yes, sir,” you correct yourself breathlessly.

“Get this cock every god damn day, still can’t get enough though, can you?” he spits out harshly, his fingers moving deftly underneath the fabric of your panties. “Daddy’s little fuckin’ cock whore.”

You clench your weeping, tight hole at his words, the way they send a zing right through your core, still never understanding exactly why you like it when Joel talks to you this way, but starting to mind less when it makes you feel such an indescribable sensation. It’s warmth, like you know deep down the words come from some place of care, of making you feel wanted, feel good, despite the content of the words coming out of his filthy mouth. And you find that you’re dutifully nodding at them, agreeing and almost proud to be the things he’s calling you.

“Y-yes! Yes I am!” you cry out when he stuffs you full of two of his thick fingers without any warning, the stretch painfully good as he delves deep. Your hips stutter forward on top of him, a gasp flying out of your mouth when he scissors his fingers open and then pumps them slowly.

“That’s right, you are,” he says, rough and raspy as he fucks you harder with his fingers, not daring to show you any mercy - you asked for this after all, didn’t you? To forget, to be distracted, and he was delivering. “Bet this ain’t even enough, is it? Want daddy’s cock fuckin’ you like this?”

You choke out a cry when he adds a third finger, spreading them wider inside of you and moving, but you find it in you to nod with a choked out please. You’re empty in an instant with already sweaty, rough palms grabbing at you and pushing you, flipping your body off of Joel and onto the ground. You land face down in the dirt with a tiny yelp of surprise, squirming before one of Joel’s large hands presses into your back, the other shimmying your panties down to the middle of your thighs. Just enough room for what you know he’s going to do to you. You hear him fiddling with the rough fabric of his jeans as he pulls himself free, thick and heavy, dripping and wanting for you just as much as you are him.

“Gonna take this,” he says roughly, his voice devoid of any kind of warmth as he shoves your legs apart underneath where he’s straddling you, and you feel the large head of his cock slipping between your thighs. “And you’re gonna say thank you.”

You strain out a choked sound, a pathetic cry when you’re full again the next moment with so much more than Joel’s three fingers. He buries himself inside of you without care or reserve, and your fingers clutch at the earth beneath you, dirt under your nails as you try to find anything at all to cling to, to ground you as your body lurches forward when Joel starts to thrust. You’re straining to push yourself up as he gains momentum to keep your face from the dirt, but Joel reaches forward and yanks both of your hands off of where they’re clawing at the dirt. He has a vice grip on your wrists, twisting your arms to pin them behind your back, making you cry out. 

“Daddy!” you cry hoarsely, tears stinging your eyes as you’re contorted further into the position while Joel’s cock pistons into you, splitting your world wide open as that familiar border of pain and pleasure rips through you. It should feel wrong, the way your arms are pinned behind you unnaturally, entire body wriggling in the dirt, your face now forced into the ground, but it only feels like home. At his mercy is where you find yourself time and time again, a place far more familiar now than anything else, and you loosen yourself for him, letting him mold your body to his in just the way he likes. 

You’re completely trapped under him, prone as his entire weight is above you, rutting into you with more speed, his breathing rough and quick, growling when he feels you tighten around his cock. The lewd, wet sounds are a stark contrast to the chirping of the birds singing their morning songs around the two of you while your own cries become more desperate. 

“Yeah, baby? You readyin’ to cream all over daddy’s cock?” Joel grunts out, tugging on your wrists, making your back arch slightly and you whimper out into a moan. 

Your entire body twitches at the words, knowing they’re true. “Yes, daddy, f- please!” you scream. Your insides are alight, begging for the release you desperately need. Not until it’s okay, not until he says so. 

“So tight for me, so fuckin’ tight stretched all around my cock, aren’t you? Poor thing, barely fit in there, don’t I, blossom?” he taunts you, and you sob into the dirt, nodding wildly as you feel the exact sensation he’s describing. It hurts so good, the way he always does, always promises to, and your mind empties as your climax starts to creep up on you. 

“Please please, I’m gonna -“ you whimper breathlessly, filling with satisfaction knowing Joel likes the desperation dripping from your lips. He relentlessly pounds into you, still holding back the permission you crave, tugging your wrists where they’re anchored behind you to force your back to arch slightly.

Joel shakes his head, his fingertips digging bruisingly into the plush skin of your hips. “Not ‘till you say thank you, like I asked, pretty girl,” he rumbles from behind you, and you can barely focus on his words when your insides are pulled so taut, his cock feeling even bigger at the angle he’s holding you. 

“Thank you, t-thank you. Please it’s - y-you’re so big,” you cry in a sorry sounding whimper, and Joel groans loudly -  it’s a rare treat to hear you express yourself so sensually, so openly.  

“Fuck,” he grits out, barely hanging on, wanting to hold back until you’ve had a chance to squeeze his cock like it’s what you were meant to live for. “Come.”

And you do. It’s violent, wracking your body with a newly found level of trembling as you tighten around him, your entire body given over to the pleasure of it. Your heart berates your ribcage as you moan out, losing your breath, head dizzy while Joel holds your body as it sags down further, completely lost in it. You hardly hear his praises but you know they’re there - telling you how good you are, how pretty it is to hear your noises, see you come for him. You relish in the remnants of it as you come down, knowing you gave him an extra enticing show today, proving your status as his good pet isn’t in vain. 

You’re not sure if Joel has noticed, and you’ve certainly never been able to find the words to express it to him without fear of burning up from embarrassment, but you love the moments just like this one. After Joel has seen your poor, fraught body all fucked out and decides it’s time to chase after his own high. He uses you so brutally, your own body just a toy, a vessel at that point, when he knows you’re sated enough. Even if he’d like to spend the entire morning pulling climax after climax out of you, enjoying you sweating and tortured, the two of you have places to be, so he just fucks you harder until he feels his pleasure building to that beautiful release. 

“Fuck all my fuckin’ cum into you, baby, you’d like that, my little pet,” he cries in stunted grunts before he does exactly what he says, only responded to by a weak nod while you whimper at he cruel way he’s used you to get there. You feel the wetness coating you, already begging to seep out, but you know today Joel will push it right back in. When he does, a thick finger pressing into you with a squelch, you twitch and make a tiny noise of protest at the overstimulation your poor cunt is feeling. 

“Good girl, takin’ it right back in…” he says, more gentle now as he observes his work from behind. Puffy, leaking, satisfied, and spent. Your face looking the same as stray tears roll off your cheeks and into the dirt below, but your lips turn up just enough that he knows you’re okay. 

He carefully watches between your thighs, then flicking to your face as he does the same motion again when he sees his spend leaking out once more. Your face screws up a little, eyes squeezed shut, but you don’t protest any of it like the good girl you’ve become. Joel’s fingers start to have a mind of their own, pumping back into you again, making sure every drop he can manage is stuffed right back where it belongs. 

“Daddy, what’re you -“ you croak out, your hips stuttering, body still unable to move as Joel continues to hold your wrists hostage, pushing his fingers in another time. It aches, your pulsing walls screaming at you to scoot away, yet you lean into it a little, the indescribable feeling of Joel’s hands worshiping your body clouding your brain.

“It’s so beautiful, baby, the way you take it all right back, like you want t’be filled up with me. Your body is desperate for it, knows what she’s meant to do,” he grumbles dreamily, lost in the fantasy of the moment, of the beauty laid before him. He could spend hours right here, pushing himself back into you, dreaming of the way it would take to you and swell you up with his baby someday. He’s tried to ignore the itch, knowing it wasn’t time yet, that he still had so much left of you to take before you two changed your lives like that. But the visions hit him hard in a moment like this, his forbidden, lustful instinct to breed such a sweet girl like you nearly made him half hard all over again.

You feel your heart start to skip a beat at his words and the insinuation behind them, unable to speak for fear of confirming his desires out loud. He still had you drinking the tea every day, never mentioned wanting to have children since that first conversation, but you knew the day was inevitably coming, your heart not quite sure it’s up for the task yet. You squirm before he finally stops, letting up and pulling his fingers out with another wet squelch.

“Good girl,” he coos, moving to lean down and place a kiss on the side of your head, running a loving hand down your spine. It makes you shudder despite the warm morning, the sweat coating your body. “Thank you for lettin’ daddy play with you a little longer.”

You grumble out a response tiredly, slumping into the dirt when your wrists are finally released, aching and likely bruised from his tight hold. You shut your eyes, your breath steadying, making you feel the familiar haze of sleep pulling at you, so worn out even though the day has only just begun.

Joel, seeming to read your mind, lets out a grunt of protest. “Mm-mm. Time to get movin’.” 

And so you’re left leaking in the dirt, body throbbing from the inside out and watching on while Joel packs up your things and makes you a quick breakfast by the campfire. For all the unknowns ahead of you today - new people, a new town, and new sights, you cling to the familiarity of Joel doing something some banal in front of you, ready to tackle it with him by your side.

It’s another clear day - beautiful and mild - and with the shining sun rising higher and higher, it’s almost getting to be hot outside. Joel tells you that you don’t have too long of a ride today before arriving in Jackson, and as excited as you’d been this morning, the reality of it starts to settle back into a steady, thrumming anxiety in your chest.

Normally Joel might get annoyed with your endless, anxious chatter about the world around you, random stories you cook up to reminisce on, going back to as recently as the week before born out of nervousness and nothing else to say. Remember when, daddy… to which he’d give you a nod and a grunt, saying yes, darlin’, I remember… each time, holding more patience than he was aware he had. But feeling how anxious you were as you two rode closer and closer, he couldn’t help that need pulling at him to protect what was his, to take care of you in whatever way you needed in the moment.

You’re mid sentence on another ramble when suddenly you see it - large wooden gates shortly off in the distance, walling in the town of Jackson. Several townspeople stand guard, one of them silently motioning for them to open the gate when he spots Joel, his eyes locking on your companion. 

You feel your muscles tense in a flash, goosebumps rising all over your flesh as the doors swing open, guards up top staring down, burning what feels like a hole right to your center. They know. They can see how I’m different, how Joel and I are different. You start to spiral, feeling every pair of eyes on the two of you as Joel guides Willow inside the town, wondering if any of them are familiar faces to him. Your whimper quietly, an anxious little hum and you feel Joel pull back the leash the tiniest bit, getting your attention. 

“Hey. Hey,” he coos, a quiet rumble right into your ear. “Eyes on me if you need to. It’s jus’ me and you.” You turn enough in the saddle to look back at him, catching the leash going slack in your periphery as you crane your neck. “Me n’ you,” he repeats, finding your eyes, blown out with worry. You give him a nod, feeling the leash going tighter again as he picks up the slack, the mischief in his eyes growing. “They know who you belong to, don’t they, baby?” he asks quietly, and you nod again, feeling the flutter in your stomach only grow, recalling what Joel said about the negative light you two may be viewed in here.

“Who is that, then, baby, hm?” he asks, flicking his eyes ahead and then back to you, checking his path.

“Y-you, sir, you,” you reply shakily, finding the familiar directness of his possessive questioning comforting to you right now, knowing it’s working as the distraction he’s meant it to be. 

“That’s right,” he says with that proud, arrogant tone he gives when you’re being obedient. “An’ who do you still have leakin’ out of you?”

“You…” Breathlessly, you lock eyes with him again, almost disbelieving of his dirty mouth. You didn’t think much Joel could say would surprise you anymore, yet here you are. “S-sir…” you quickly add on, making Joel smirk to see you catch yourself so quickly. 

“That’s a good girl, you’re doin’ good,” Joel says quietly, not failing to notice an abundance furtive glances from those who know him from prior visits and even more so from those who don’t. They all quickly avert their eyes as soon as they see his sweeping gaze coming for them, not fast enough for Joel to be unable to catch where their vision had been glued. You. Your beautiful young face, adorned with what was likely an anxious expression, the collar and leash in such sharp contrast to your pretty, innocent features. 

You dare to be brave, glancing off to the side and taking in the buildings surrounding you more closely for the first time. Jackson is cozy, not quite how you’d imagined it but not all that different, either. You knew it couldn’t be a sprawling metropolis like you’d seen in books, but it’s surprising even you just how bustling the main street is. Different communal services, shops, and homes lining a busy sidewalk with folks glancing over at you, and you pass them a weak smile that they don’t all return. They all give either a tiny press of their lips or shove their eyes to the ground once they see your collar, or just stick with blatant stares that you don’t have the nerve to hold. It makes your heart sink, and you hope you’re just imagining it all, ideas put in your head by Joel’s warnings about this place. Your eyes continue scanning, now avoiding any eyelines as you catch a saloon style bar and then smell the mix of savory and sweet coming from the bakery before you see it as you ride along. 

“Daddy, l-look! Have you been to the bakery?” you ask him in a hushed, excited tone, suddenly forgetting all your woes as you gesture towards the quaint, wooden building with a few small groups gathered outside.

“Once or twice,” Joel says with. tiny shrug, his refusal to elaborate quickly frustrating you. You’re purely overwhelmed with the selection here in Jackson - the myriad of functioning, helpful businesses, each one having its purpose and place. Most people in your prior community simply relied on each other - Christine being an expert seamstress, Jalynn great with leather work, and Lance skilled at leading hunting parties to bring home large catches to share. People had their sets of skills, but mostly it always felt like a team effort, borrowing from neighbors and exchanging things or trying to be mostly self-sufficient. Here, though, people seem to even have their own storefronts to help out the entire community. 

“Can we go? Please? How come you never told me there’s sweets here?” you blabber on, distracted enough that you fail to notice Joel pulling off the main street onto a winding side street lined with houses. 

“Hold your horses, sweetheart, yeah? We can think about it,” he replies, smoothing a palm down the back of your head and squeezing softly at the back of your neck, what you know to be a gesture of finality on the conversation for now. He pulls Willow to a stop in front of a small, single story home with a large porch, several chairs and a swinging bench adorning it. “I’ve gotta make a stop here, okay? C‘mon, hop down with me.” 

He slides off Willow effortlessly before offering out a hand, helping you land on your feet next to him. You’re trying not to pout, but your sour first few minutes in Jackson have only been exacerbated by Joel’s lack of enthusiasm about taking you to the bakery, or showing you around at all, really. You know he has business here, and that maybe he rarely has much time to spare for all the recent times he’s been here and in a rush to get back to you to have gotten you a treat from the bakery. Yet… you can’t help but feel disappointment crawling into your bones, settling deep. 

This ain’t a luxury vacation. You remember Joel’s words, letting them ring through your head as a quick reminder to manage your expectations here. This is a supply run, if anything. He’s being quiet, slightly cagey as he glances around himself, almost as if he’s on the lookout for something or someone particular. 

“Stay right here, I’ll only be a minute,” Joel commands while pulling from the cart hitched behind Willow a bounty of furs that he’s collected, all pristinely cut - one of his specialties he’s picked up over the years, or so he’s told you. You just watch, feeling small with your eyes wide and full of curiosity as a man comes to the the door, in his 40s or so with dark, cropped hair and a stocky build. He greets Joel in a way that shows they don’t know each other very well, that this is strictly business albeit not their first time doing it. Joel presents his wares and the man’s eyes seem to notice you for the first time over Joel’s shoulder, standing timidly with your hands folded in front of you next to the horse. The stranger quirks a brow, nodding in your direction, and you get the sense the man is only trying to make small talk, but Joel’s body language fully brushes him off, returning both of their focus to the task at hand. 

Joel disappears into the house for just a moment, returning with a bottle of whiskey, stashing it in his backpack before turning back to you. “Let’s go,” he says, gesturing for you to mount Willow once again but you don’t move, hating just how out of the loop you’re feeling and even more so how indignant it’s suddenly making you. He sighs, going a little softer. “Don’t want to ask twice, yeah, honey?”

“Who was that?” you blurt out, moving to stick one foot in the stirrups, beginning to hoist yourself up with a helpful push from Joel. He’s saddled up behind you the next moment, his energy making you nervous, unsure of himself and erratic feeling as it radiates off of him. 

“That’s Marcus. Once and a while he gets me one of those bottles, and seeing as you polished off the one I had the other night, I needed a new one. That satisfy your question?”

You pout, slinking yourself lower where you sit, wishing to make yourself smaller for him and to offer some help for your own burning embarrassment at the way he’d called you out. “Yes, sir,” you reply meekly, keeping your narrowed eyes trained ahead as Joel moves back towards the main street.

“I ain’t tryin’ to be mean, blossom,” Joel explains, leaving the words there, offering nothing further, but he quickly wraps a hand around your leash and then presses his closed fist to your chest, gently pulling you closer, your head leaning back on him. He plants a forceful kiss along the side of your head, sending a daring glare to the passerby that glances at the two of you.

“I know…” you grumble simply.

“We’ll get you somethin’ fun before this is all over, okay, princess? Daddy promises.”

You turn around and give him a tiny, crooked smile, nodding. “Okay, daddy,” you quickly concede, satisfied enough with his promise for now, knowing he’s typically bound to keep them. It’s not long before you’re back to the main street and coming up to a larger building, still with that same charming, wooden exterior, almost like the entire town is just like your home - the cozy little cabin with Joel. He offers you his arms as you slide off of Willow, landing right into them and he smiles softly.

You see his eyes flash with something unsure, like he’s struggling himself with what he’s about to say to you next. “We’re gonna leave this on, okay, blossom? Can you do that f’me?” Joel asks quietly, holding the leash up to your view. You swallow hard, hesitating when you know it’s risky, that Joel is already on edge as it is. 

“Daddy, I -“ A passerby brushes past the two of you, heading up the few steps leading to a porch on the building, a label of General Store in white paint on a wooden plank right above the doorway. The stranger casts a glance at the two of you before pushing open the door, heading inside. It’s one too many people who looked, and regardless of their expression, you’ve started spiraling, assuming that every peep, glance, and stare has malicious intent behind it. “Everyone is staring,” you say with a frown. 

“And do you care what they think about you?” Joel asks harshly, leaning closer. 

“Is - is it wrong if I do?” you stutter out, fiddling your fingers together, just wishing only for his approval, as you have for months. That gnawing bit in your belly, only seeking for Joel to smile upon your actions, your beliefs, your entire being. “I just want people to like me… to understand it. Is it really that… bad?”

“I already told you most people ain’t gonna understand, so you gotta get that through your head,” Joel says, lightly tapping a finger to the side of your forehead a few times. “It ain’t… bad, but it ain’t good, neither. To put it simply, blossom,” he says, clicking his tongue as he shifts on his feet. “It’s not normal, and people don’t like things that don’t seem normal.”

Your shoulders sag a little, torn trying to figure out a way to finally accept this truth and not let Joel down. Your Joel, who’s done so much for you, taken care of you, even showed you something apparently abnormal that you rather well like, after all - and none of it would have happened without him and his guidance. But what would they call you, if you trotted around town with this leash tugging at your neck? When nobody else around you dons one? What would their eyes say? What would they think, seeing Joel, nearly three times your age, at the helm of it all? How could it be that out of the realm of possibility for their minds to comprehend when Joel had made it all seem so simple? You feel your stomach rolling, afraid to fully commit to what he’s asking you to do, to put yourself out there in this way, but the amount of debt you feel you owe him… it’s too much to try to put off something you think deep down you might truly want. 

“Never thought I was very normal, anyways,” you say, your voice lifting with the forced tease of it, trying to not show your lingering doubts. Your lips curl into a cheeky half smile as you meet his eyes again and see his own grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. 

His eyes narrow with pleased determination. “Atta girl,” he coos quietly at you, his gaze almost sparkling with pride now. He gathers the leash tighter in his hand, tugging it to close the gap between the two of you, and you ready yourself for a kiss, but he pauses, taking in the moment. “We’ll get you a big reward for this, yeah?”

You let out a breathy, soft giggle. “Y-yeah,” you say. “Please.”

“Might be hard to believe, but this is my first time doin’ this too,” he says, pausing at your surprised reaction as your brows twitch upwards. He’s right - it is hard to believe he’s never been in this situation before, for some reason. He seems confident, cool, and collected as he publicly admires where the leash clips onto your collar, and you’d think he’s done this dozens of times before. “So we’ll do it together, mkay?”

“Okay,” you say softly, trying to give him a more confident smile but faltering, and if he notices, he gives no indication, simply turning on his heel and leading you away from where you’d been standing next to Willow and up the steps to the store. A tiny bell tinkles overhead as Joel pushes open the door, bringing you into the quaint but fully stocked room. Shelves line the walls, filled with different types of produce, eggs, milk, and a plethora of other groceries. The man who had brushed past you and Joel is still inside, browsing, but he’s decided to pay no mind to the two of you and you let out a grateful sigh. There’s a counter straight ahead from the door along the back wall, and you feel your heart thudding in your chest when you see someone standing behind it.

“That Joel Miller?” the middle aged woman says, peering up from the book she’d been lost in at the main counter. Long hair hangs down over her shoulders, slighting graying, a pair of reading glasses perched on her nose that she promptly folds up and hangs off the collar of her shirt as she takes Joel in. Her clothing is baggy and masculine, just a slightly tattered short sleeve button up over top of a t-shirt but her features are soft and sharp, a strange mix of coldness and warmth in her sharp cheekbones and big, toothy grin. 

“Hey, Priscilla. Been a while,” Joel hums gruffly in response, stepping inside. The woman is all bright cheeks and smiles, part of her job of keeping things at the general store running, but what she’d never admit is her soft spot for Joel. She’d read his pain the day she’d met him years back, the old saying takes one to know one always ringing through her head when it came to Joel. Her face falters slightly as you slink in behind your protector, sticking close to his back as the sights of the store gradually come to greet you. It’s a true hodgepodge of items - along with all the food, there are old partial and full bottles of shampoo and various other toiletries, what looks to be a donation pile of all kinds of interesting household items and necessities. A sign underneath it reads Give and Take - Our Community Pulls Together! 

Priscilla’s eyes are on you for a beat longer, trailing where the leash sits in Joel’s hand as it wraps around his body to where you stand behind him. She watches you attempt to link your arm in his before he absentmindedly opens his elbow to offer you room to slide your hand through the crook, stepping further into the room. She searches Joel’s face, her light, beady eyes raking over him. “And who’s this?” she coos towards you, the kind smile still lighting up her face. “Never seen you with someone else in all these years, Joel,” she adds on more practically, leaning forward on the counter as if to get a closer look at you and see the answers written on your face. You try to smile back, your face and limbs a little shaky, but you hope it’s convincing as you wait for Joel to answer for the both of you, knowing he’d likely prefer to, anyways.

“Someone I’ve been takin’ care of,” Joel responds simply, avoiding Priscilla’s gaze by moving his way towards the case with baskets of eggs, a delightful sight of brown eggs in such splendid supply that your eyes widen. You mouth a tiny wow, separating yourself from Joel to stand up next to him, wanting to feel helpful by inspecting the baskets for the best lot.

“Hmm,” she mutters softly, unclear on if she feels one way or another about Joel’s response. “Well, you’re the lucky girl who's been getting all those eggs then?” she directs towards you, and you finally muster up enough bravery to look at her, nodding with a timid smile.

“Our favorite breakfast,” you tell her, and her warm energy makes you wonder if maybe Joel had been exaggerating about how things would go here, if Priscilla was any indication. She leans forward on the counter, chin propped in her hand, as if what you’ve said is the most fascinating thing she’s ever heard.

“You’re just cute as a button too,” she gushes with a tiny laugh. Your cheeks warm heartily, eyes averted away to a spot just beyond her as you dip your head down.

“T-thanks,” you murmur, “You - you’re very kind,” you add on, remembering your manners. Out of the corner of your eye you see Joel turn from staring down at the eggs to shoot you a look of pride, his hand coming behind you to skate his fingers over the small of your back.

“Very polite,” he says, leaning in and speaking softly, quiet enough you don’t think Priscilla could hear, and you beam over at him for a moment, feeling heat rising all the way to your ears. Joel turns back, finally selecting a hearty amount of eggs, ones you know you two will space out over the next month or two. You follow closely behind while he browses the store, a jar of jam handed to you for safekeeping before he collects various items - a bar of homemade soap, a tiny sack of flour, and some oats. You watch on despite wanting to move across the store to explore the miscellaneous section, filled with different toys, beauty products, and much more exciting, shiny things. You realize the leash is more than a symbol right now, but true, full control, even dictating where you can step inside this shop. 

You start to wonder as you look down at the haul why Joel is hellbent on living this way, when this community is so close by. Scraping by, rationing food, only eating what he’s been able to grow and having to hunt consistently for years when he could have it so much easier. The answers you could find to those questions may end up revealing more than you want to know, but the curiosity starts to eat at you. 

“Think we’re set here,” Joel grumbles as he approaches the counter, hauling a crate filled with all your goods plunking onto the surface of it. “Jus’ get my exchange items,” he adds, then hesitating for a moment, his hand held up with the leash before he unclips it. “Stay right here.”

You nod once, staring on with curiosity at his decision, but unable to think long before Joel is striding across the small room and out the door. You feel your feet shuffling beneath you, hands held tight and wringing in front of your belly. Priscilla’s watchful eyes are on you, hard but still kind as she tilts her head. 

“Started to wonder why he suddenly stocked like he was feeding another mouth. Must really care about you if he’s bringing you around, you know,” she suddenly says straightforwardly, and you whip your head from where you’d been staring anxiously at the door to her face, intrigued. 

“I-I guess…” you stutter out. “He just -“ You let your words hang, unsure what it is you’re even really trying to convey, anyways. 

“Maybe you can convince him, move him back to town,” Priscilla answers with a wink, seeming unbothered by your lost thought trailing off. 

You blink hard and feel your brows twitch inwards. “He lived here? Before?”

“Didn’t tell you that, huh?” she says slyly, her lips curving upwards, clearly amused and unbothered by spilling what seems to be a secret. “Forget I said anything then, dear.”

“But -“ you croak out, interrupted when the bell above the door tinkles softly again and Joel steps back inside with one of his bags. His hand motions to you to come towards him as he shuffles over to the miscellaneous section you’d wanted to explore earlier. When you’re back at his side, he quickly clips the leash back on and you tuck yourself close. 

“Help me put these out, okay blossom?” he says quietly, leaning towards you. You nod, and he reaches into the bag, pulling out a wooden toy - a train car with what appears to be working wheels. “Find a good spot for this, yeah?”

Your mouth falls open a little, hand reaching slowly and gripping the toy, feeling the smooth wood, the sharper edges as your hand wraps around it. You’re just staring at him, wide eyed, and wondering what’s going through his head at the moment. It felt like that first afternoon you’d discovered his private woodworking room all over again - that sensation like a punch to the gut, something so brokenly human about this man that at the time, you didn’t know if you could grow to love. 

“What? Like I didn’t know you’d have found my lil’ workshop by now, darlin’?” Joel says with a raised brow, and you press your lips together, breaking your eye contact with him and looking down. 

“‘M sorry, daddy,” you mutter, fiddling with the toy before placing it on the shelves in front of you on an empty space next to some similar items, all older, beat up and scratched plastic toys that don’t hold a candle to Joel’s craftsmanship. 

“Thas’ alright, honey. Knew you’d be curious, can’t help yourself sometimes,” he says pragmatically, pulling out another toy, this time a small airplane, putting it next to where you’d set the train. Something about it continues to pull at your heartstrings, the fact that Joel gives back to this community he’s not even a part of. But one that he once was, apparently. It makes your heart sink when you think about it, such a big secret for something so relevant seeing as you’re standing here with him now. You realize all over again that you maybe don’t know anything about the man standing next to you as you gaze at the toys now sitting on the shelf together, something you’d never have expected from him.

“Hey d-“ you start, but Joel is already looking over his shoulder at Priscilla and calling out to her. 

“Got jerky too, want it in the usual spot?” he asks, getting a nod from the woman. The moment is whisked away from you as he starts walking back towards the food displays, and you have no choice but to follow, tugged along by the leather around your neck. A blur of thoughts follows you, but Joel finishes displaying his spoils for the town without another word to you. 

“‘Till next time,” he says gruffly, dismissive as ever to Priscilla who watches you as you’re stuck to Joel like glue when you move to the shop’s door. 

“Nice meeting you,” she calls out in her brusque yet warm voice, and you give her a tiny wave over your shoulder. 

“You too,” you say, knowing it was too late and far too mousy for Priscilla to likely have even heard it, but you can feel the pride radiate off of Joel for the polite interaction between the two of you. 

“Did a good job,” he says, turning to you after packing up the cart, sensing the nerves radiating off of you.

“Thank you, daddy,” you reply quietly, feeling a simmering disappointment inside of you after Priscilla’s private conversation with you had been cut short. It made your head swim, wondering what she’d have said if she was given the chance - what was Joel hiding in that tightly locked past of his?

He tsks, shaking his head. “Know it’s just us, but remember what I told you this morning, yeah? Let’s practice that.”

“Y-yeah… But I don’t want to, da-“ you pause. “Uh, I don’t want to get in trouble. It doesn’t feel right,” you whine. 

Joel lets out a huff. “You ain’t gettin’ in trouble. I’m the one who told you to do it, blossom.”

“But it’s just us…”

“An’ if someone comes along, talkin’ to us, what are you callin’ me in front of them?” he demands, hip popping as he places on hand on it.

You swallow, lashes fluttering quickly as you force your mouth to move, eyes squeezing shut. “Joel…” The word sits heavy in your mouth, unnatural even if you’ve still called him by his real name in your head. It goes against everything he’s pounded into your brain for months, practically since the first day he met you - that the titles that he’s asked you to use for him demand respect, so why stop now?

“Okay, good job, sweetheart. Jus’ remember how easy it was to learn before to call me those names, hm?” he asks, quickly thumbing your chin.

“But whyyy?” you ask, knowing you’re toeing the line once again towards aggravating Joel and earning yourself a punishment. “If we’ve already got… my special necklace and everything…”

Joel crouches a little towards you, making himself less imposing. He cups your cheeks between his hands, forcing you to look into his dark eyes, study the weathered features of his face. “Think it’ll blow all their tiny little minds too much if we use my special names in front of them,” he teases, a twinkle coming to his stare. You twist your lips into a reluctant smile and giggle softly before it turns into a fuller laugh. 

“Y-yeah, guess you’re right,” you say with another laugh.

Joel lightens up too, giving you a wink. “We’ll jus’ keep it our little secret for now, okay?” He’s so quick and easy to convince you, always sounding so sure of himself, the experience with the world you know he has. He makes it so easy to simply trust him, take his words as law and bring them into your own worldview, changing it at the drop of a hat.

You give him a more resolute look and a nod before he releases your face from his hands. “Okay,” you tell him, seeming to satisfy him. He quickly motions for you to mount Willow again, and once the two of you are seated, he starts to move through the main street once more.

“Let’s go on and get Willow to the stable. Best we do some walkin’ in town, show ya around a bit, get you your reward,” Joel says, winding the two of you through the main street, feeling even more crowded with several other people on horseback riding through and a bustle of people chirping and laughing and seeming like they belong here. Your skin crawls with a sudden self consciousness, unable to find how you could fit into a place like this, even if for only a day, just as a simple passerby. You frown, shrinking your shoulders inwards and deciding to focus downwards, instead, on the patchwork denim of your overall pants. Joel’s exception to wearing a dress, claiming he understood that wearing one on horseback for such a long ride wasn’t fair to you. Now that you were out of your usual dresses, you missed the feeling of it, glad you had one packed in your backpack to change into at some point. 

You two dismount at a large, wooden stable, surrounded by several corrals for the horses, and you saw at least a dozen horses grazing, trotting, and lazing about in the sunshine. It lifted your anxious spirit, always having felt drawn to horses, and it’s a rare treat to be in the presence of so many of the beautiful creatures at once.

Joel decides to unclip your leash, sensing your discomfort, and it’s a surprising act of mercy towards you. “Wait here,” he commands, leaving you by the outside wall of the stable as he leads Willow inside. You want to panic, for some reason, all the unknowns of this place tearing into you. You find that you can see Joel through the slats in the wood and the little windows for the horses to peek their heads and muzzles out, eyes too anxiously transfixed on his movements, when he’ll return to you, to notice the other people milling around you.

You lean your back on the wood, neck craned and you smile when you see him emerge through the large, open entrance to the stable and make a beeline towards you. His hand is nearly outstretched, ready to take yours as soon as he reaches you, the other leaving the leather leash dangling from it, begging to be re-clipped to the o-ring. “Alright, le-“

“Joel?” a male voice interjects from across the yard. 

“Shit.” The single word, expelled in a grunt under his breath, and you watch in a stomach twisting moment as his hand drops, and Joel’s entire body turns towards the voice and steps away from you. 

“Hey there, Tommy,” Joel says cooly, his southern accent thick and strong as it rolls off his tongue. 

“The hell? Weren’t gonna tell me you were in town?” the man apparently named Tommy asks, and you can hear the slight jest in his voice, mixed in with something real, like a long standing hurt is buried deep in there. He quickly moves forward, giving Joel a hearty hug with a pat on the back, you seemingly staying unnoticed flat against the stable walls. 

“This is me tellin’ you. What, am I ‘sposed to come runnin’ right to your place and announce it?” Joel asks, but the other man’s attention is now elsewhere. You’d seen the moment it happened, halfway through Joel’s sentence, when the dark, curly haired Tommy had seen you, so clearly waiting a few feet away for Joel, had put together the pieces as he realized Joel’s hand had been ready to grab yours, had seen the leash hanging from the other. Tommy’s eyes are wide at first before narrowing, raking up from your feet, where your worn boots stand with your toes pointed in towards each other, to your anxious, overall-clad body and ruffled pink tank top underneath. And then that roving gaze had stopped dead at your neck. It sent a pulse of heat all over your entire frozen, unmoving body, your blood suddenly running cold at the cruel inspection his eyes gave you, whether they meant to be or not. You feel like an organism under a microscope, scrutinized as his head slowly cocks.

“Who… is this?” the man asks, gesturing towards you, but the question isn’t meant for you, almost like you’re not even there. Joel’s face is flushed, frustration evident on his features, his mouth drawn into a tight line before he sighs quietly. This was what he’d been avoiding, why he’d been looking around so nervously since the moment you’d arrived at those gates. “Joel…” he says more quietly as his eyes fall again to the leash in Joel’s hands, the shiny metal clip catching with a glint in the sunlight. 

“This is Tommy,” Joel says simply with his head turned towards you now, a hand outstretched towards Tommy.

“Oh, that’s it? This is Tommy. His brother, did he mention?” Tommy snips, scoffing in Joel’s direction. You only shake your head for a moment, stunned beyond words. “Didn’t think so.”

“Don’t start, Tommy,” Joel says in warning. You watch on as Tommy runs a hand through his dark curls, shaking his head more quickly now, foot tapping along the ground.

“Then don’t be bringin’ fuckin’... this,” Tommy retorts, eyes flashing to you, undoubtedly getting another look at the leather wrapped around your neck. “I mean… What the hell, Joel?” You feel your heart sink to new depths, the cruelty displayed exactly what Joel had tried to warn you about - discussing you without any awareness of your presence, like you’re an object to be fought over. It’s a stark contrast to how you’d been treated by Priscilla not so long ago, but maybe she was the exception, after all. 

“What the hell is goin’ on is none of your business, that’s what,” Joel counters, his voice getting louder, his tone more dark. You can feel the air changing, the anger between the two of them rising, and you swallow hard, realizing that it’s you. You’re the cause of all of this, already stirring up more trouble than it’s worth for Joel by simply being here in Jackson with him. Your eyes are suddenly blurry, blinking fast with a prayer that your tears disappear more quickly than they’d arrived. When Tommy catches it, he pauses with his mouth open, ready to go on another rant that’s cut short into a staccato breath. 

“God damn it,” he says brusquely, staring at you, seeming to finally realize the massive blunder he’s committed when he was blinded by his rage. He lets out a long exhale, stepping forward to close some of the gap between you two. His face is now soft and kind, his lips turning up underneath his bushy mustache. “I- I’m sorry, sweetheart. That was… fuck - let me try again - I’m Tommy. And I need to have a word with my dear brother here, if you don’t mind.”

You give him a quick nod, still blinking hard, using the back of your hand to wipe at your eyes. You want to speak, to tell Tommy it’s okay, that all of this is okay, how much you care about Joel, but words fail you. Joel turns towards you with a tiny growl at the back of his throat, one you know isn’t meant to be directed towards you. 

“Just. Stay here,” he says quickly, huffing as he follows Tommy around the side of the stables, out of sight. 

“You’re scarin’ her Tommy, are you happy now?” Joel chides out as soon as they’re around the corner. As much as they’re out of your eyeline, their voices are still traveling over to you, and you want to move and tell them, unsure of just how much you actually want to hear this heated conversation between brothers that seems to be so concerned with you. But your curiosity gets the best of you, and you shuffle even closer to the corner of the stable where they’re speaking just on the other side, holding your head down towards the ground. 

“Scaring her? What, like she’s a lost little puppy? You’re bringing ‘round strays now to my doorstep?” Tommy quickly interjects with scorn lacing his tone, incredulous eyes scanning over his brother’s confidence when he should be showing any semblance of shame.

“Oh, your doorstep, really? Don’t be fuckin’ dramatic,” Joel scoffs, folding his arms across his chest with a shake of his head. “And don’t talk about her like you know her,” he adds, lower, a protective growl behind the words. 

“I’ll be dramatic all I god damn please when you’re bringin’ a fuckin’… child up here an’ actin’ like everything’s fine.”

Your cheeks burn with an intensity you’re not sure you’ve felt before, a strange dizzy sensation tearing through your head. Was that really how you looked next to him? Was that really how Tommy saw you? Saw Joel? You want to rush around to the other side of the stables, turn that corner and speak up for yourself and defend Joel, but your feet only shuffle a little more, allowing you a peek around the corner where you see them in a tense stance, facing each other. Tommy’s hands are on his hips, Joel’s crossed over his chest, both at a stubborn standstill. 

“Who is she, anyway, Joel?” Tommy says more calmly, a clearly difficult attempt to tamp down some of his anger.

“She’s…” Joel lets a long, stale pause hang in the air, leaving Tommy staring on with an expectant expression, stunned. “She’s someone I take care of,” he says, repeating the same line he’d given Priscilla earlier. “She’s… mine,” he adds on with a growl, unable to help himself.

“Yours? And just how did she come to be yours, Joel? Jesus, the fuckin’... thoughts I’m having right now. I - I can’t… please, Joel, tell me you didn’t…” Tommy pinches the bridge of his nose before letting his hand fall in exasperation. 

“I jus’ fail to see how this is any of your god damn business, Tommy.”

“Like you stay out of my business all the time, right?” Tommy snorts. “Honestly Joel, have you gone fuckin’ crazy?”

There’s another long, tense pause, and then Joel sighs. “Just… leave us the hell alone, Tommy. Thought maybe you’d be willin’ to listen at the least,” he scoffs loudly. “We’ll be on our way, get the fuck out of your hair.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. Look, I didn’t mean to be - but Joel -“ Tommy reaches out, grabbing onto Joel’s bicep, gripping on tightly. You stare, open mouthed, as Tommy’s eyes find his brother’s when he deigns to turn back towards him. He looks desperate, the dark brown wide and searching, almost pathetic. “She’s not - you have to understand how this looks, given your history.”

“Oh you’ve made it more than clear, Tommy, thanks,” Joel punches out with a scornful chuckle, tugging himself out of the other man's grip and shaking his arm off as he turns away. You move your head too late from where it was peeking out around the corner to watch the heated conversation, and you freeze as Joel and Tommy’s eyes lock on yours. 

“God damn it,” Tommy murmurs to himself, watching the hurt, confused look written all over your face.

“C’mon, baby, we’re gonna head out of Tommy’s hair now, yeah?” he says, striding over with his voice softer, determination in his eyes as he glares back at Tommy who is chasing after him. He’s reaching out to take your hand, and your fingers naturally unfurl from where they’d been clasped tightly together, letting him dwarf his hand over top of yours. 

“O-okay…” you croak out of your betraying throat, cursing it for being unable to say anything until now. Maybe things would be different if you’d been able to. Maybe neither of them would be so upset if you’d been more brave. 

“Shit, no - Joel! Wait!” Tommy calls out, catching up to where Joel has your hand tightly, leading you towards the main door of the stable. You turn back as Joel pulls you along to see Tommy’s eyes - wide and concerned, with a hint of what you wonder if you’re mistaking for fear. He catches your eyes and you only see sadness morphing quickly there, wondering just why he’s so distraught. The fight did seem pretty brutal, but the sense you get is the history between these brothers is beyond complicated. Joel had never even mentioned him to you before now, and that fact raises even more questions thrown into the swirling mess of your current mindscape. “Just - I’m sorry, alright? Please Joel. At least come by for dinner or somethin’. Stay with me ‘n Maria. Promise I’ll… talk. No yelling.”

Joel stops, you halting dutifully right at his side, putting your eyes to the ground as your cheeks continue to burn in shame and embarrassment. “Please…You owe me at least that,”  you hear Tommy say again, softer and more desperate, and you feel Joel shift his weight next to you, see the shuffle of his boots out of the corner of your eye. “

“Fuckin’ hell Tommy,” Joel grunts with an exasperated scoff. “Alright.”

You inhale sharply in surprise, whipping your head to look at his face now, trained on Tommy’s with his lines set hard, brow furrowed deep and jaded as he takes in his groveling brother who now looks ten times lighter.

“Alright, then.”

Tommy had you ride back to his home with him, saying there was plenty of room for Willow to graze and roam in his yard and a place for all your perishables in his home. Just as he was about to welcome you in to the comfortably sized, two story home with open arms, he paused, stopping you and Joel on his porch. 

“Just. Let me warn her first, yeah? She wasn’t expecting any… visitors today.” You can tell by the way Tommy says it that he doesn’t mean just any visitors - that Joel, and you, by association now you suppose, comes with its own warning.

“Yeah, fine,” Joel replies with a dismissive wave of his hand, exasperated. He’d expected as much, knowing how Tommy and his wife are. His hand immediately comes to the back of your head as soon as the screen door bounces shut behind Tommy and he disappears. 

“Alright?” he asks, looking down at you. Your lips part, surprised by the question, this type of check in from Joel. Sometimes his sweet moments are far and few between, and sometimes they come in clusters, never knowing which you’re going to get. 

You give him a weak nod, focusing instead on the distant voices you can hear from deep inside the house to attempt to hear anything at all from them. You’re starting to feel the need for a shred of hearing any kind of honesty out of the situation, what’s truly going on here, or if your collar really was enough to set off Tommy and whoever else was in that house.

“A what?” you hear a female voice say, the volume rising significantly from the far away murmurs you’d been trying to zero in on. 

“Just… we should talk to ‘em. For me, please.” You think you hear from Tommy, more hushed, but followed by approaching footsteps on the old hardwood floors. Tommy comes back into view, followed by a woman whose dark eyes flash over Joel for just a moment before finding you, flicking quickly over your features. She’s pretty and natural looking - her dark skin and long dreadlocks pulled back into a ponytail, outfit simple and utilitarian but still flattering. Her face is serious, none of the warmth you’d been hoping for, but you’re quickly learning to stop letting yourself down with these expectations.

“Joel,” she says, hard and blunt, crossing her arms. “Nice to see you.” You can’t help but feel less than convinced by her delivery as you glance between the two of their strained expressions.

Joel clears his throat next to you, and gives a curt nod. “Likewise.”

She turns to you, a soft smile finally playing on her lips. You can still see the tense way she’s holding herself, her words bit back for Tommy’s sake. “I’m Maria,” the woman says before laying a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “Tommy’s wife.”

“Hi,” you say, putting your hand up in a weak wave and giving them your name. It’s strange, saying it out loud, all the pleasantries of meeting new people you haven’t experienced in so long. You then realize neither you nor Joel had said it when Tommy discovered you two at the stables - to Joel, you have many names, but your given one isn’t necessarily one of them. 

“Well, come on in,” Maria says, yanking on the screen door and whipping it open. She’s nearly in a huff, buzzing with energy that has nowhere to go, emotions running high that you still don’t quite understand. You certainly can see Joel’s point that people generally reject the abnormal, might pass judgments on the two of you, but the strain you feel here is deeper than all of that, you’re sure of it. You and Joel are led through a cozy foyer with a coat rack and little console table on one side, and the stairs on the other. It opens on either side into other rooms, and Maria takes you all to the left into what looks like the living room. 

“Well, uh, sit on down,” Tommy says when you hesitate at Joel’s side, fighting the urge to hide behind him, cling to him and meld yourself into his skin.

“C’mon,” Joel says, settling himself in a large, puffy chair that sits adjacent to a loveseat. You feel lost since you’re unable to sit next to him, and when he catches the way you glance at his lap, the ground between his legs, he shakes his head, making a desperate pull go through your heart. You step past to the loveseat, cramming yourself as close to the armrest as you can, as close to Joel as possible. You sit forward - too stiff, you know - wanting to get your body to the edge of the couch. He shoots you a compassionate but hardened look, and you’re struggling to understand why he chose to sit separately from you. Why it’s always this bigger game at play that you’re stuck on the outside of.

“Drinks, everyone?” Tommy asks genially, a tiny nervous chuckle as he rubs the back of his neck, hovering near the couches and chairs and leaning back on the armrest of one. Maria gives him a nod, seating herself next to you and sliding back on the couch. 

“Sure they could use some water. You feeling thirsty?” she asks you, and you blink in surprise to be addressed so directly.

“J-just water,” you say, the end coming out more like a question, your wavering voice so unsure of itself. 

“Why don’t you help me grab ‘em, Joel?” Tommy says, and Joel glances between the couple with a furrowed brow and tiny shake of his head. 

“She stays with me,” Joel clips, his hand twitching towards you from where it lays on the nearest armrest. 

“You got to be k-“ Maria starts, sitting forward, exasperated, but Tommy quickly jumps in, stepping further into the room to be more of a physical interruption.  

“Can see her right from the kitchen, Joel,” he says, even tempered, gesturing towards where the living room opens right into the large kitchen, light spilling in and illuminating all the white tiles and warm wood tones. 

“Fine.” Joel shifts with a grumble, pushing himself up and leaving the room with Tommy. 

“I- I can go with him -“ you stutter, practically reaching out after him, feeling your heart picking up its pace. This feels wrong, your mind screams at you, the separation piercing at you like a knife even if like they said, you can clearly see Joel lumbering around the kitchen with his brother. 

“So,” Maria trills a little too harshly, clearing her throat. “You’ve been… staying with Joel?” You suppose you have, but you’ve hardly thought of it so much as staying there anymore. It was your home, the place you’d been making memories with him, experiencing all these new things, falling in love. She sees your anxious, bewildered expression, wide eyes wondering how to answer, or if it’s even okay to say anything. “Hey, it’s alright, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Make s-sure I’m okay? What…? Yes, I’m okay,” you say, growing a little indignant at what she’s insinuating.

“Yeah?” she says softly, giving you a nod, turning her body a little more in your direction, creating a little bubble between the two of you. “And you like Joel? You’ve been spending a lot of time together?”

“W-well yeah…” You try not to narrow your eyes at her. You know she means well, that her and Tommy seem very taken aback by your arrival, your existence, even. Like Joel said, it may not be the most normal situation, and you can feel the good natured intention behind her questions, but you’re not quite sure what kinds of answers she’s seeking. What proof does she need to decide whether it’s okay for you to be here with him?

Maria feels your hesitation, the way your answers are short and packed with as little information as possible, and she keeps pressing. “How long do you think you’ve been there?”

You chew the inside of your lip, finally deciding you want to answer her as honestly as possible. “A while, like, um, since the winter. February, maybe. I lost track.” You look to see Joel giving Maria a sidelong glance from the kitchen, half focused on what Tommy is saying as he fills four glasses with water.

“Okay… that’s okay,” she says, bringing your attention back. “You can tell me, if something is wrong, or you don’t want to stay with him anymore, honey. Tommy and I know Joel pretty well, actually, did you know that?” 

You shake your head to both things she’s said. There’s no way in hell you want to be separated from Joel, and if that’s where the conversation is going, you can feel yourself shutting down already. “Yeah, well… no, not really. I never heard about him having a brother. B-but I never asked…”

“Yeah, they fight sometimes, you know how brothers are,” Maria replies with a tiny laugh. “So you… uh… can I be direct with you?” she finally asks, getting straight to the point. You only swallow hard and nod, feeling your stomach turn.

“That’s enough,” Joel booms, crossing over into the living room with two glasses of water in his hands. “We didn’t come here for an interrogation, Maria.” 

She pats your thigh briefly, then brings her hands back to her own lap. “Later,” she whispers, giving you a wink that leaves you feeling dizzy and anxious. Joel hands you one of the glasses, an absentminded command of “drink” falling from his lips before settling back into his chair. You do as he says, both Tommy and Maria clocking the way you instantly bring the glass to your lips and sip in long, thirsty gulps before setting it on a side table. 

“Now, this the reason you haven’t been stayin’ in town for long recently, Joel?” Tommy asks, sitting down on the matching chair to Joel’s, placed across from where you sit with Maria.

“Never stayed long before,” Joel quips back, relaxing back smugly with his arms crossed over his chest. His insolence is filling the room, this brotherly side of him something so new, and for the first time you’ve learned there is someone who can truly get under Joel’s skin.

“Well, that ain’t true. You used to -”

“Enough,” Joel booms out, leaving Tommy with his mouth open before he snaps it shut. You feel a flutter in your stomach - there it was, another allusion to Joel’s past quickly snatched out from underneath you.

“Well, used to stay more ‘n half a day before, you jackass. ‘Till a few months ago…” Tommy teases, eyes shifting to you with a playful raise of his eyebrows that wavers into something judgmental for a brief beat when his eyes rake over your neck again. You know that there’s more than just the collar there, too - Joel’s marks from the other night had to still look fresh, although you hadn’t noticed them much in the mirror this morning. They were too common for you now, part of who you are to pay them as much mind as you used to. Sometimes you thought they were beautiful, strangely, the different stages of the bruising that intermingled whenever Joel decided to remind the world who you are, where you belong. 

Joel gives him a grunt of approval, rolling his eyes. “Don’t like to leave her alone,” he says practically, refusing to tease Tommy back. You can feel his bad mood permeating the air from being pushed too far earlier, starting off way too far on the wrong foot. Joel doesn’t let things go easily, you’ve learned that about him all too well.

Tommy seems to notice, but quickly brushes off Joel’s sourness and decides to press on in his attempts to lift the mood. “Can we convince you to stay longer? The summer solstice celebration is tonight, could be fun for her,” Tommy says in a gesture to you. “An’ if this is someone, er, special to you, then we want to get to know her, Joel. Get to know you,” he says the last part directly to you, seeming to realize just how much they’d been referring to you like you weren’t even in the room. For some reason it hadn’t bothered you much - you were getting too used to being property over a person at this point, you think. And in conversations like this - complex, laden with hidden meanings, difficult to weave your way through - you preferred to stay more of a fly on the wall, anyways. You can feel the strain in Tommy’s voice, the pure restraint it’s taking to do as he’s promised and keep things civil for now after his and Joel’s outburst earlier. 

“I don’t know, Tommy,” Joel starts, glancing to your wide eyed, intrigued expression. Your ears had perked up at the mention of the festival, you couldn’t deny that, but it also filled you with anxiety to think about being around so many of the townspeople, trying to blend in. “That what you want?” he asks, softer, turning towards you.

You make a nervous little hum, thinking, then shrug. “Dunno, er, maybe…” you admit, trying too hard to tell Joel what he wants to hear, to let him make the decisions as he’s always so keen to. The truth is that you did want to experience things, new things, having had your fill of them with Joel has made you eager to see more of the world beyond the cage you’d been trapped in for so much of your life.

“Think you’d like it a lot,” Maria says, giving you a smile. “Or at the least, don’t you want a good meal in you today before heading off?” she adds on. Their appeal is hard to deny, and you give Joel a tiny, encouraging smile when he looks to you again, trying to gauge your comfort level. Your eyes silently plead, if only for your own selfish reasons to stay here and learn more to help you understand Joel better through the people who have known him much longer than you. He sighs, fingertips brushing through his wiry beard.

“Yeah, fine, alright. Dinner.”

“Alright, then,” Tommy booms out, his tone light as he reaches over from his chair, clapping Joel on the shoulder. “You’ll stay the night, then? Can’t have you two leavin’ so late.”

Joel grunts, gearing up to say something about the two of you camping just fine, you can see it on the tip of his tongue, but he deflates slightly. You think that maybe he’s been wanting this too, itching for some connection with folks that he hasn’t had in a while. This is his family, you realize, maybe all that’s left of it, and you can’t blame him for giving in when you can see how staunchly defiant he still wants to be. 

“Y-yeah, we’ll stay.” You can’t help your tiny smile at his words, brushing your fingers to your mouth in an attempt to hide it, but you feel Maria’s eyes from where she sits next to you, still studying, still intrigued.

“I’ll show you upstairs, where you can put your things,” she says before standing up, leaving you to follow. You hesitate when Joel doesn’t join you two, and pause next to where he still sits in the plush armchair. 

“Go ‘head, blossom,” he says quietly, to your surprise. You silently pick up where you’d set your backpack next to the couch and give him a tiny, timid nod.

Maria leads you upstairs, your eyes fixed on where Joel still sits, the back of his head going out of view as you ascend to the second level of the house. You frown, and Maria tries to give you an encouraging look over her shoulder as she takes a sharp right at the top of the steps into an open doorway. 

“Do you want a shower? I know it’s a long way to get here. We’ve got plenty of hot water.”

“S-sure,” you say, glancing around the bedroom. It’s not spacious, just a few pieces of furniture adorning the light soaked room as the window catches the bright afternoon sun. There’s an intricate, metal framed bed right across from the doorway, a faded quilt draped over the mattress and two nightstands on either side, faded and dusty. A large wardrobe takes up most of the other wall, completing the matching set with the side tables. “Yes, please,” you say, not wanting to be rude. 

“Do you have clothes? Something to change into?” she asks, leaning against the wall.

“I-” you mutter, remembering the dress you’d worn last night and into this morning, now stained from the way Joel had pressed you into the dirt hours ago. “I can just wear this.” You look down at your overalls and brush the pockets with your fiddling fingertips.

“I’ll bring you a few things, and maybe some pajamas for tonight?” Maria insists, and despite the anxiety creeping in that it won’t be something Joel picked out for you, you give her a polite nod to not rock the boat. It feels like the least you can do, to accept her kindness, someone so clearly a caretaker.

“Thanks,” you respond mousily, letting her lead you to the bathroom, just adjacent to the room you’re staying in.

“Towels are in here,” she says, tapping a cabinet next to the doorframe, “And I’ll leave some clothes in the bedroom, okay?” She pauses at your anxious expression, softening but a look of confusion on her face, trying to pinpoint the source of your worry. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want…”

“N-no, it’s… very nice of you. I just…” you peer past her, down the stairs, where you can hear the distant rumble of Joel and Tommy’s voices. “They were fighting,” you tell Maria, lowering your voice.

“Brothers fight,” she says again with a shrug.

“Because of me, I think.” You frown, suddenly feeling self conscious, unsure of why you’re sharing so much with a stranger, but your heavy heart was beating so painfully, so full in your chest, you needed to unload some of it on somebody.

Maria steps into the bathroom further with you, leaning her hip against the counter. “They haven’t seen each other much in a while. Joel has been… distant. Tommy was probably just hurt when he saw that Joel hadn’t told him about you. That boy doesn’t always know how to handle his emotions. Well, that goes for both of them,” she says thoughtfully. Maria’s faltering voice isn’t fully convincing, but you hope that’s the reason, not the way you’d been feeling them passing judgment, sizing up the situation.

At your lack of reaction, she bores her eyes into you. “How well do you know Joel, hun?” she asks softly but laden with insinuations and you inhale sharply, tearing your eyes from where they’d been studying the baby blue floral shower curtain to her face, scanning it. You can feel the heat creeping onto your cheeks, anger flashing in your eyes. Your defense of Joel always comes so swiftly, so strongly, from a part deep down that has attached itself to him completely.

“I do. I know him. He- he’s good to me!” you say defensively, making Maria shoot you another skeptical look. She swipes her fingers over her eyes, rubbing them, and you notice she looks conflicted, tired.

“Hey, I didn’t say he wasn’t.” She touches your arm, just barely, lowering her defenses for a moment. “Just be careful - you’re a sweet girl, I can see that. But there’s some things you should know -” she starts, and you feel the breath pulled from your lungs, readying yourself to shake your head at the coming confession from her when the noise of the two men downstairs shuffling around distracts her in the tense silence.

She turns back to you, regret lining her features. “You know what? Let’s just get you clean and fed first. I- I’ll leave the clothes in the bedroom for you,” she says hastily, turning on her heel and closing the bathroom door behind her before you can say another word.

The shower is too hot, everything too much as your mind spins, your skin burning with frustration and unsaid words, ruminating on the little you got from Maria. What could you need to know? Could it have to do with what Priscilla had started to tell you in the General Store earlier, too? You slam the handle of the shower down, turning off the water and wrapping yourself in a towel, feeling the sting of tears prickling at your eyes. You hadn’t expected this newly found freedom Joel had offered you to feel so constricting, so isolating. You’d wanted to see the world, but maybe the world hadn’t wanted to see you in return. At Joel’s, you always knew your place, exactly where you belonged and how to behave. You had the information you needed, the past having no place living with you in those four walls despite your always clawing curiosity about Joel’s. 

You pad out of the bathroom in your towel to the bedroom, where Maria has left out what appears to be pajamas for you - soft shorts and a tee shirt, along with a dress. You touch the cottony fabric, the pale pink color slipping through your fingertips. Without even knowing, you think she’s picked out something that Joel may have dressed you in as well. You smile, your troubles forgotten for a brief second as you slide it on over your head, letting the light fabric fall over your body, the dress hitting you mid thigh, shorter than you’d expected. You pull your lip between your teeth as you continue to grin softly, knowing Joel will find you a vision in this dress, especially true as you fix your ribbon back into your hair. The thought of Joel seeing you and lighting up in that subtle way he does carries you forward to the stairs, ready to bound down and towards those strong, comforting arms that feel like home. 

Maybe tonight won’t be so bad after all. 

Joel’s eyes avoid his brothers as they sit at the kitchen table, drinks in hand. He’s looking out at the backyard through the window, where Willow grazes on long, untrimmed grass, basking in the sun. When he looks back to Tommy, his eyes are swirling with concern, questions, and judgment that he’s sick of dealing with already. “Quit lookin’ at me like that, jus’ say whatever the hell you need to say,” Joel snips to his brother.

Tommy sighs, rubbing anxious strokes along the back of his neck, the skin blooming red before it drops back to the glass on the table. “Just… why the… collar, Joel?”

His brother’s squirming as he pushed the words out gets a wily grin from Joel, impressed that he’d even be able to finally ask the question that was on his mind. “‘Cause I like it,” he replies simply, sending Tommy’s mouth opening and then closing, thinking heavily on his next words.

“I mean, I’ve heard about things like that before, bein’ part of people’s lives in the bedroom and whatnot, but why in public?” Tommy’s words are practically wrenched out of him, painful as he broaches the sensitive topic, and he winces.

“‘Cause… I… like… it,” Joel repeats, slower, leaning forward with daring eyes. “And she likes it.”

Tommy practically snorts, throwing his calf over the opposite knee as he sits back. ”Does she, now? Or just ‘cause she’s got you tellin’ her she does?” 

Joel almost doesn’t take the bait, latch on to the challenge Tommy has thrown his way. But he can’t help but defend you, defend what you two have, in some way. “She does,” he affirms, whether Tommy believes it or not is out of his hands. “Makes her feel safe.”

Tommy stares off, lost in thought for a moment, hardly seeming to have heard Joel’s feeble attempt to absolve himself. “You know I’m a pretty open guy,” Tommy muses slowly, “But… she’s real young. She… even legal?”

“What’s legal, anymore, hm? You see judges and juries out here putin’ infected on trial?” 

“Why d’you gotta be so fuckin’... headstrong, such a stubborn asshole, Joel? I’m just tryin’ to -” Tommy asks, clearly already flustered by his brother’s cool attitude, far too cool for the situation at hand. He looks at his kin, his dark eyes, familiar features, but recognizes him less than ever.

“She’s old enough,” Joel interrupts, taking a long swig from the glass of water before drumming his fingers on the table.

“C’mon, Joel…” Tommy pleads, his dark brown eyes soft. “I’m just… what I’ve said before still stands, you know.”

Joel snorts, rolling his eyes. “Which one? You’ve made more ‘n enough promises to me before that turned out to be utter shit.”

“T-that there’s someone in town… someone you can talk to about things. These kinds of things. Same thing I offered after everythin’ went down before. You know, help with workin’ through stuff.”

“And you think I look the type to need help workin’ through stuff, do you?” Joel snips back.

“Jesus Christ, Joel, yes, of course you fuckin’ do. You - you know that you do.” Tommy’s hands, thrown in the air, fall dramatically to his sides, looking at Joel in disbelief.

Joel’s silence stretches on as he swallows hard, biting the inside of his lip. “I don’t need it. I’m… doin’ fine. Better than before. Knew I shouldn’t have stayed – where is she –” he starts to mumble, standing up in a hurry to find you, the scooting sound from the kitchen chair grating as it rings through the room.

“Joel, you know I just care about you – you’re my fuckin’ brother. I want you… to be alright.” Tommy is persistent if nothing else, always has been. When he suddenly thinks acting like the caring, responsible eldest sibling will make up for all the years he was an immature wreck, it grates on Joel’s nerves faster than he wishes. But he sees the good buried in his words, past the condescension and judgment - he only wants to see his brother doing well. Take care of him like Joel had done for all those years. But only if “doing well” fits into his box, falls in line with his terms. Joel’s chest heaves as he stands, frozen for a moment looking down on Tommy where he still sits at the kitchen table, suddenly looking years younger, the picture of his little brother he’s always fought with, and always found a way to make up with, too. 

“I know,” he grits out, devoid of emotion and warmth, only a simple fact. “Can we jus’ go to dinner? The hell is she?” he asks, stalking towards the living room when he hears the familiar pitter patter of your feet coming down the wooden stairs. He’d likely notice the too concentrated smile on your face, the strain behind it if he wasn’t so focused on the dress you had on, the way it flowed out behind you as you came towards him like a dream. You fought to keep your shaky smile, afraid to admit that you’d staked yourself out at the top of the steps when you’d heard arguing from the kitchen, witnessing most of the bickering Joel and Tommy just had. The hurt was becoming unbearable - the war inside you telling you to continue trusting Joel fighting with the terrifying notion that there could be things out there that would change your view of him forever.

He swings a hand around your back, pulling you close, fingers splayed across the small of your back, immediately distracting you from the negativity inside your mind. “Very pretty,” he mumbles, and you giggle, smiling more genuinely at his praise. It was a welcome relief to know he liked what you were wearing, even if it wasn’t from his approved selection. You feel your heart squeezing tight as he takes your hand while Tommy comes into the room, calling out for Maria.

“No leash tonight,” he whispers as the four of you ready to leave, and you feel a sudden relief wash over you combined with a strange desire to feel the safety of it again. You can’t make sense of any of it, the way you feel torn in two on every front right now, this place messing with your mind more than you’d ever expected. 

Jackson’s main street - where the mess hall is, Tommy tells you as you walk along - is crowded, making you gratefully distracted again as you take in fresh face after face, clinging close to Joel and using him as a shield. He walks proudly with you by his side, happy to play into that role for you, to keep you sheltered as you push through the crowd gathering in the main square. You see people abuzz, putting up strings of flowers everywhere, and your eyes go a little shiny and starry, loving the spectacle and color of all the wildflowers.

“For the solstice celebration,” Maria comments to you when she catches your captivated glances around the square. You eagerly nod, showing you heard, but you remain speechless as you crane your neck to keep the sight in view when you four turn the corner to enter the large mess hall. What looks to be a cavernous, old barn, converted into a dining area with rows of picnic tables covered in gingham tablecloths, all decorated with votives for tonight’s celebration. People are still finishing stringing up extra lights and flowers in here as well, and your smile lights up further, enamored by the display of humanity at its sweetest.

“Now, you really like living with my grumpy ass of a brother? You can tell us the truth,” Tommy asks, turning his gaze to you once you’ve all sat down with your trays of food, and you stun a little, intrigued by the way the conversation has shifted from outside the stables earlier today to now. He breaks out into a spirited grin, and you find yourself unable to hold back your own smile, nodding. 

“Y-yeah, I do,” you tell him, and you catch the way Joel looks at you out of the corner of his eye, smirking, pleased. “It’s real nice there, we can see the mountains and everything. And there’s a creek, oh and hot springs!”

“That so? Be nice to see it sometime, huh?” Tommy says, reaching across the table to Joel, playfully shoving his arm. Joel only shakes his head, but you see the amusement in his eyes as he finally lightens up, his lip twitching upwards.

“Yeah, yeah. Maybe we could discuss it,” he concedes more amicably, dropping a hand below the table to your thigh, unseen by the others. His way of telling you he’s proud of you, he’s happy with the way you’re behaving, opening up to his family. He absentmindedly strokes circles with his fingers, squeezing the flesh between the movements, climbing higher and higher, teasing the hem of your dress. His fingers speak his words for him - keep eating, act normal, no moving, no reacting - and you sit still as his rough fingertips climb upwards to the inside of your thigh, putting a forkful of the roasted vegetables into your mouth, keeping your wavering face as steady as you can. 

It’s hard to follow the conversation as Joel’s fingers brush near the apex of your thighs, teasing you more intensely, only to move away at the last moment and start the process over again. You want to groan out of frustration, your cheeks hot and embarrassed at the prospect of being caught if you make a wrong move.

“What kinds of things do you like to do, then, sweetheart?” Tommy asks you, his attempt to get to know you better for Joel’s sake, and you blink hard, clearing your throat, tuning out the feel of Joel’s hand as much as you’re able to, not trusting your voice to make anything resembling a normal sound right now.

“I- uh- I -” you stutter, and Joel glances at you with a knowing smirk, brows lifted in amusement.

“Don’t go shy now, you can tell ‘em. She likes readin’ a lot, don’t you?” Joel teases, his pointer finger brushing outside your panties and you nod heartily, holding back a whimper.

“Y-yes. I like reading. Da- J-Joel and I read together a lot. And the garden, gardening together…” You find it hard to keep your focus, attempting to ignore the pleasure ramping up between your legs but split between wanting to give in to it and keep the conversation at hand.

“Yeah? Y’all bring some of your stuff along for the shop?” Tommy asks, seeming to be well aware of Joel’s trading habits here in Jackson.

“I remember the zucchini Joel brought us a few years back,” Maria chimes in, sounding a little forced, her observant eyes scanning you and Joel with scrutiny. 

“We have lots of it this year, Joel says,” you pipe up, beaming at your accomplishment with Joel. “Always turns out real good, actually when we cook it.”

“Oh, look -” Tommy interrupts, gesturing behind you and Joel to the other end of the room, where a cart is being wheeled in. It stops near the food serving station, a townsperson transferring plates from the cart to the table, and you squint to try to get a better look. “Think they’ll have some special desserts for the solstice, pull out all the stops,” Tommy says to you with a wiggle of his eyebrows, and you feel your chest tighten in excitement. 

“Did promise her somethin’ sweet, actually. Didn’t make it to the bakery earlier,” Joel says, shooting a furtive glance to Tommy, who looks down sheepishly for a beat. Joel’s fingers pull away, the comforting warmth of him now missing from between your thighs, but he shifts to stand up, and you realize that he’s put your needs ahead of his own. He’d wanted to mess with you, tease you, get in your head, but he’d made a promise earlier, and as Joel has always said, he means what he says. It makes your heart go a little soft as you watch him scoping out the plates from afar, squinting himself now, only hoping to make the night a little more special for you.

With your chocolate chip cookie in hand and a grin on your face, you head back out into the street with higher spirits, the four of you conversing genially and naturally. You wonder if the adversity of the day could really, finally be behind you all now as the air feels lighter around the group, if maybe they were starting to understand just what you and Joel had been trying to demonstrate to them. In whatever twisted way they saw you, the truth was that you made each other happy, and if they could see that, then maybe everyone would stop staring, fighting, throwing out those passive aggressive digs at each other. Maybe brothers could be brothers again, and Maria would stop giving you that wary gaze like she couldn’t wait to get you alone and tell you all the secrets she was holding onto.

The sky is glowing, ablaze with orange light from the sunset, the lights strung up along the buildings all starting to stand out more as the sun goes down. It’s truly magical - the chatter of people, laughter surrounding you - even at its best your community had never been like this. There was always such reservation in every movement, every conversation, like someone was watching at all times, ready to crack down on any uncouth behavior. Which you suppose to them, someone was.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Maria coos, nudging you. You feel a sense of normalcy washing over you, unworried about the overheard truths you’d sneakily heard earlier, just wanting this to work so badly that you’d give up your own comfort, your own curiosities, to live like this, arm wrapped in Joel’s and strolling along a street full of excited folks going about their lives. This place was a tiny paradise, hidden away, one you wanted to be a part of, even if only on these small visits with Joel. You know he lives in that cabin for a reason, away from the hustle and bustle, and you’ll gladly stay there with him, for another chance at this.

Joel pulls you closer, stopping to let you admire the scene - live music, flowers, and the general joy of it. Even if it’s not even close to something he enjoys, he sees the spark it ignites in your eyes and wants to give you this moment before taking you back to the silence you’ve become accustomed to. His hand grazes your side, bunching the dress up a little as he tickles you accidentally, hitting just the right spot. You almost don’t hear through your laughter and the music: a strange calling - your name. It’s desperate and loud, coming closer, and your heart hammers suddenly, blood running cold but your skin prickling with white hot flames. Your name. It’s too foreign, used too infrequently to sound like it belongs to you anymore. At what point is a name no longer yours, if you’ve become what you have to Joel?.

But it’s real, it still calls, panting as it reaches you and you’re thrown into thin, wiry arms you almost don’t recognize at first. It takes too long, the words stuck on your tongue as protestations and questions murmur around you from the others, hard to grasp onto anything as the world spins faster, the voices fading into a blur. You finally manage to choke out a mumble into the shoulder you’ve been pulled into, a cry that finally turns its way to speech.

“J-Josie?”

smother - part xiv: unraveled

dark!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: now faced with being torn between two lives, your questions get answered and you have to come to grips with joel's past life. 15.5k words. chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI! dubcon - stockholm syndrome, innocent reader, big juicy age gap (reader is 19, joel is 55), ddlg/daddy dom! joel, sub!reader, lots of angst, smut, piv, cock worship, slight degradation, use of the word whore in a negative sense, reader wears a collar publicly, crybaby reader and i'm not sorry!. if the darker tags aren't your thing please keep scrolling- i'm not responsible for the content you consume! a/n: i've been struggling and self conscious about the amount of yapping and conversation this chapter without as much sort of action happening? even though i felt it was necessary since there was a lot of ground to cover and oh boy do we cover it (joel is the largest menace here fr). enjoy + thanks for all your patience!

The front door swings open, the sound of rain amplified for a brief second before it shuts. A thin man in his late forties with graying, short hair shakes himself off, sending droplets onto the old plank flooring. Normally one to care, the woman waiting at the door for him can’t even scold him for the mess, her typically beady eyes wide and her breath caught in her throat.

“Was it her?” she asks breathlessly, urgently, stepping closer to him. 

A simple, solemn nod as he removes his fedora and brushes the water off, hanging it on the coat rack before shrugging his dripping jacket down his arms. 

“Oh, Harry!” Josephine cries out. “It’s just awful, isn’t it? That she felt the need to do that?!” She clutches at the cross hanging from her chest, letting her eyes shut for a long beat before looking at her husband with determination. “We have to do it, Harry.”

“Josie, dear…” he coos softly, always the less hardened one. “We should think on it.” His eyes are bloodshot and tired, the few tears he shed at the news making his eyes rimmed red and nose run. 

“And what? Let the council and the elders decide where to stick her? She needs a home and they aren’t going to wait around for placement, you know that. It’s now or never.”

“She’s… grieving. She’s not going to be easy. We don’t know what we’re getting into.” Harry shakes his head, watching as his wife takes another step closer, looking up at him without any indication she’ll waver now that her mind is set. 

“What she needs is guidance that we can provide. These other families, they have their gaggles of other kids to look after. But us?” Josephine grips at his shirt. “We have all the guidance and time in the world to give her. And you know as well as I do… it’s our chance for something bigger.”

Harry clicks his tongue. His wife had been too insistent recently, the pressure of making something of herself in this world mounting right on her shoulders. “Josie…”

“You know how Callum feels… felt… about her mother. And she’s already the spitting image of her - so beautiful. That woman never much cared for what he wanted from her, far too devoted to her own personal matters. What a wasted opportunity,” Josie spits with disgust. “But Harry… Harry…” she softens, clutching harder at the collar of his shirt. “Think of us, someday with the elders… part of them. We can offer him what he’s always wanted. Or the next best thing.”

Harry blanches as he stares at her. “What you’re proposing… she’s just a girl. Do you really think…?”

“All girls grow up to be women - good, proper women if I have anything to say about it. And then they can become the best prize of all.” A wild yet still controlled look flickers across her features, shadowy in the low light. Her husband stares at her in understanding, feeling a flutter in his chest. He knows with a heavy heart the guilt she holds onto for being unable to carry a child for them pushes her every single day to find a reason for her mere existence in this place. She has been waiting for something like this, has observed and recorded and waited for any opportunity to get them ahead. 

“And we know Callum is always searching for the next best thing to impress him,” she says vaguely, but Harry feels his shoulders sink, knowing what she’s referring to.

Harry shakes his head a little, caught between some semblance of morality he wants to pretend he’s holding onto and the life his wife is proposing to him. “Would that really be enough?” he finally asks.

“I think you underestimate just how far a favor can get you with that man,” Josephine says plainly. “Callum plays favorites, and we’ve been ignored for far too long for how devout we are, my dear. It’s time we did something for ourselves.”

Harry’s chest heaves a little as he continues to stare at his wife, her light brown hair streaked with gray pulled into a tight bun, her bright blue eyes staring into his very soul as they always have since the day he fell in love with her. He breaks eye contact with a simple nod, reaching to grab his damp hat and jacket.

“I’ll tell the elders,” he says before throwing on his outerwear and heading back out into the storm. Josephine, her hands clasped in front of her and fiddling with her cross, resumes her watch at the window, knowing it’s an awful time to have such a grin spread on her face. But she’s unable to help the satisfied smirk from taking over - her time had come.

Your name is all you can hear, like a chant over and over and over, disbelief lacing it all, until she pulls away with watery eyes and cries out.

“H-how? Oh, my girl, look at you,” Josephine murmurs, finally finding her composure and grabbing you by both shoulders, squaring them where they’ve started to slump in shock, starting to look you over, studying, inspecting. Always looking for something to correct, Josephine was.

Your entire body feels shaky, your knees hardly able to support you as you take in someone you’d long thought gone from this world. Her knobby hands dig in and bird-like eyes continue to sweep over your features, as if you’ll look that different. How long has it been since you’ve seen her? Six months? Time that feels like a lifetime away from you, a lifetime ago, no longer part of you. Detached.

“I-I don’t-” you try to speak, your mind going too fast to keep up with the thoughts, an endless cacophony of how, how, how?

“Harry! Harry! You have to come see!” she calls wildly over her shoulder, hands shaking, ignoring your attempt to speak. You see that Harry had already been running up when he saw Josie run off towards you. It’s all happening so fast as he begins his own symphony of “Oh my - we thought you were dead! All this time!”

Your tongue must be glued to the roof of your mouth, you’re sure of it, molasses covering the inside of your cheeks with the way you’re unable to speak right now. All that comes out is another stutter, wishing to explain yourself, somehow, a default that seems to come out around them that hasn’t seemed to fade since you last saw the pair. 

It seems that everyone else has been too stunned by the sudden commotion to speak, until you’re being pulled back in the other direction, familiar, rough hands on your upper arms. The jolt of it brings you back to the present, and the sudden chaotic mix of voices is almost too much with the anxiety ridden day you’ve already had. You feel your face burning, heated flames licking across your entire body at the realization of what this mixing of company could mean, what it could come to. “The hell -” Joel peters out when it all catches up to him.

“Get the hell away from her,” Joel snaps, his voice now loud and booming, yanking you further into his grip, your back landing with a thud against his solid chest. You watch with a tight throat as Harry and Josephine’s faces fall, seeming to notice the wall of a man behind you, hanging onto your arms with a protective grip. 

“Hey now,” Maria warns Joel, shifting to step in front of where the argument is starting to brew, her voice calm as if she’s trying to tame something wild. And you suppose she is.

“What is all this?” Tommy asks urgently, moving to join his wife.

Harry and Josephine’s narrowed eyes light up a little with recognition. It makes Josie’s features soften, a possibly misplaced trust in seeing two of the more well known people in town.

“Oh, Tommy and Maria right?”

Tommy dips his head in a polite nod. “We welcomed these two into town,” Tommy explains to you and Joel, his voice wavering as he glances between all of you, trying to figure out the connection. “They were with a group of refugees, an’ we got them set up here in town while they figure things out.”

“How… do you all know each other?” Maria asks curiously, her words trickling out slowly as if she’s doing the same puzzle in her head as Tommy is, her eyes narrowing in Joel’s direction.

“This is our girl, the one we’d told you about,” Josephine gushes in your direction. “Did you all find her? Is that what this is?” she asks with still teary eyes, continuing to glance at you with hurried, quick peeks, as if she can’t believe you’re standing right in front of her. You feel your heart beating wildly when you see the way her expression slowly changes as she notices more details of your appearance, catching on your neck over and over again. 

Both Tommy and Maria’s faces are screwed up in confusion, and Tommy’s eyes are suddenly drawn to where Joel’s hands grip you, his face falling. “J-Joel… this… is this that girl’s parents?” he barely mumbles out, his face completely drained of the typical rosiness coloring his cheeks. 

“No, they ain’t,” Joel asserts defensively, pushing himself closer to you, his heat all along your back.

“We may as well be,” Harry asserts with more force, color rising to his face.

“What did you do?” Tommy murmurs, the sound so quiet under his breath you aren’t sure he meant to say it out loud. His red rimmed eyes stare into nothing before they flash to Joel, who only shakes his head for a moment.

Joel huffs. “I didn’t d-“

“Then who are you?” Josephine asks accusingly, finally losing the sweet edge to her tone. Her eyes are beady, sweeping over Joel’s features, landing on his fingers curled around your arms. When they trail to your neck, you feel the breath leave you completely. There’s no doubt she’s picked up on the tension by now, but with her face transforming into something almost grotesque, you know she’s quickly putting more of the pieces together. Her hand absently reaches out, touching Harry’s arm, and he follows her eyeline, the both of them now staring like you’re some kind of attraction. How they hadn’t noticed until this moment eludes you, or maybe they hadn’t wanted to think anything of it until they started to see the connection between you and Joel.

Joel scoffs a sordid chuckle at Josephine, adding fuel to the fire. “Jus’ the person who’s been takin’ care of her since you left her for dead,” he shoots back, and Josephine’s face falters, her lips pulling tightly in on themselves. It’s an expression you’ve seen her make countless times, and it never ends well.

“Don’t speak about things you know nothing about,” Harry cuts in, protectively stepping closer to Josephine, trying to act as a barrier between her and Joel. “We’ve done nothing but c-”

“You think I don’t know?” Joel snips back, interrupting Harry carelessly. Tommy quickly grabs at Joel, sensing the escalation ramping up too quickly to get under control, knowing all too well how his brother gets once he has a reason.

“Stop,” Tommy hisses in Joel’s ear to no avail.

Joel shrugs Tommy off aggressively, his brother left with desperate eyes, watching the scene unfold. “I know what you are. And I’ve showed her what she needs since she came crawling to me. Took better care of her than y’all ever did. Taught her everythin’ she needs to know about life.” His drawl is lethal, dripping with condescension and hidden meaning that immediately pulls both Harry and Josephine into a fury.

“What… what is that supposed to mean? What have you done?! What have you done to her?” Josephine says through gritted teeth. You finally get enough feeling back in your body to notice your cheeks are wet, tears leaking out steadily. It’s too much, the overwhelming need to run, to escape, overtakes you. 

“Please…” you manage to squeak out, trying to tug yourself out of Joel’s grasp. Nobody seems to hear you, and everything feels muted, like you’re witnessing the entire thing underwater, a thick layer of fogginess clouding it all as your head spins.

“I’ve taken real good care of her, that’s what,” Joel sneers, wicked and provoking before he tugs on your collar, bringing more attention to it when you jerk backwards. He watches with pleasure as Josephine’s face twists tighter, her skin flushing with anger. 

“Joel!” Tommy tries to cut in again, but neither party seems to even notice him now, both caught in a battle that none of them want to concede on.  

“N-no,” Josephine shakes her head in denial at the realization, her eyes going a little blank before filling with rage. “No! You -” She breaks, lunging for you as if she can fix all of this, only to have Joel wrap his arms tightly around you, trying to block her bony fingers from grasping at you.

“Please! Stop!” you finally scream. “Everyone stop!” Your mouth snaps shut, regret flooding through you now that the group’s attention immediately shifts its focus on you. There’s no plan here, and nothing you think you could say to make both parties understand each other. 

Josephine’s eyes flash from Joel’s face to you, but she can only look at your neck, the evidence there that proves her worst fears are coming true. Bruises upon old bruises from Joel’s advances beyond the strip of black leather that likely makes them want to burst into flames with the discomfort and disgust of it all. You know they worked hard to raise you, to give you the life you should have had in the community, and you’re torn. Joel’s truths about them are hard to reconcile with the way they’d taken you in. Would bad people really offer to care for an orphan like you when they didn’t have to? But would good people treat you the way they had over the years?

“I-I’m sorry…” you whisper, hanging your head suddenly as words continue to fail you. You aren’t sure who you’re apologizing to - maybe mostly yourself, for feeling like you’ve failed everyone here with your complete lack of bravery. Joel’s hands slide upwards, one finding your shoulder, the other stroking the side of your head lovingly. Josephine openly cringes at the display of affection, and Harry grabs onto her shoulder, gripping tightly in support. 

“S’okay…” he sighs with his lips now close to your ear. It instantly calms you, the rumble of his twang, the heat of his body close to yours. You keep your eyes down, trying to relish in the feeling of home that Joel offers you amidst this currently raging storm.

“You have no right.” You hear Harry speak up now as he steps forward indignantly. When you dare to meet his eyes, they’re filled with equal disgust to Josephine’s, only more compassion behind the dark green of his irises. Harry always had a softer spot for you than his wife. You’d found ways to manipulate him into letting you off easier than she would when you misbehaved, or getting permission when you just wanted to leave the house and be a kid for a while instead of recitation after recitation, lesson after lesson. You always suspected that Josephine had her foot on his neck just as much as it had been on yours.

Joel’s head picks up with a cruel grimace shot their way. “I have every right,” he spits. “You let her go, knowin’ she’d die out there! Found this girl half starved and lost, not a single way to survive, nothin’ in that pretty head but the bullshit you all put th -”

“Enough, Joel! That’s enough, I’m serious,” Tommy quickly steps in, finally able to get Joel’s attention with a harsh tug, forcing him to take a step backwards. “Look at me,” he demands, shaking Joel by the shoulder, forcing you to move along with him. When Joel tears his gaze from Harry and Josephine, his sneer slowly fades at his brother’s concerned expression. “That’s. Enough. Please…”

Joel only grunts, doubling down on where he holds you, but stays silent.

“We did what we needed for her to survive. We’ve regretted it every single day. And it’s a miracle we’re still here to bring her home with us after what we went through.” Josephine’s voice cracks but goes on strong, typical for her to not allow anyone to see just how emotional she gets under the surface. She comes across as cold, but you know she has so much anger under there, having been on the receiving end of it many times.

You feel the blood drain from your face, everything going a little fuzzy again as she mentions bringing you home. This couldn’t be happening. You’d never wanted to be faced with this choice, and had convinced yourself it was out of the realm of possibility all these months later. 

“N-no, no…” you whisper, shaking your head. Your vision swims a little and you feel your knees picking back up their trembling. Joel is tense behind you, biting the hell out of his tongue when Josephine’s words suggest his worst fear coming true.

“No?” Josephine echoes, turning her attention back to you. She’s inched closer, her brows drawn tightly together. “You’re confused, my dear,” she says softly, finally speaking directly to where you stand hunched over, staring at the ground. “We’ll get you right back into shape, won’t we?” 

The strange combination of Josephine’s sudden, motherly tone and what you know is behind it, what “getting you back into shape” entails, makes you feel sick. You shake your head, blinking hard. “I don’t - I need to think,” you mumble, the words seeming to peter out on their own.

Josephine cocks her head. “You’d rather be treated like this? He took you and ruined you, can’t you see that? What we taught you meant nothing, hm? All we did for you?”

You feel Joel’s muscles strain hard behind you, holding back from unleashing everything you’ve seen that he’s capable of. 

“You don’t know… you don’t know any of it… you weren’t there,” you squeak out, thankful you gathered enough bravery to find your voice. You almost never talk back to Josephine - you’d learned that lesson long ago living under their roof. It never ended well for you, never got you your way, so you’d submitted. Eventually happily, just to avoid any of the consequences. 

Rage sinners below your skin, bubbling up at how quickly they’d gotten over their relief and made negative assumptions about Joel, and about you. 

“I know, we weren’t. And it’s our fault this happened to you,” she says, glancing at Joel with disdain.

“We just miss you, dearie,” Harry cuts in, reaching out for you. You let him touch you with a tiny protesting twitch, but his hand lays on your shoulder, and he glances to Joel with pleading eyes. “We miss her.”

“Like hell you do,” Joel mutters under his breath, threading his fingers tighter through the back of your collar. Your chest tightens with the motion, and you can’t describe the feeling that follows – the unbearable tension building inside of you to the point you start to feel lightheaded. 

They don’t seem to hear it, or they both choose to ignore Joel’s dig at them. “She’s ours to look after – it’s time to come home, honey.” They speak to the group, then directly to you, and you feel something inside of you shrivel up in fear at the idea of disappointing either party involved. How could you win in a situation like this? How were you supposed to handle this? Nobody had given you the skills, the willpower, the understanding of the world to be able to handle a conflict of this magnitude. 

“You’re coming home, that’s final,” Josephine asserts, acting as if she has any say over the powerhouse of a man Joel is. “We won’t let you turn into this… this… whore for this man. Look at you,” she spits out venomously, and you’re not sure exactly where her disdain lies - with you, Joel, or both? Your heart sinks to a new low at the derogatory term thrown at you so harshly, and you shrink further into yourself, your stomach roiling into a swirling, sick, mess.

You can feel it before you process it, your body moving into a different mode of being, one where you wriggle out of Joel’s grasp at an unsuspecting moment, pushing through the group and out into the crowd. All of them pass you by in a blur with no idea what’s actually going on, the way your entire world is falling apart right before your eyes.

You break into a run, still within ear shot to hear Josephine going off, her face likely reddening with anger as she shouts after you. She doesn’t like it when things don’t go her way. Your mind doesn’t bother to even recall the words seconds after they’re spoken. All you can focus on in your mind’s eye is her mouth forming that word: whore. It was one of the worst things you could be, according to everyone where you grew up - it was drilled into your head for too long, such a fearsome thing that you felt sick at the thought of it. It made you unwanted, impure, a disgrace to the community as a whole. You thought you’d been away from them long enough and felt safe enough with Joel for the power of the structure they’d enforced to dissipate some, but you’d been wrong.

You shake your head wildly, trying to quiet the thoughts as you move - all you know now is you need to get away. You don’t know if they’ve all followed you, you don’t care. You weave your way through the festival crowd, then on to the less busy streets, passerbys shooting you a curious glance that you quickly ignore as you feel your feet pounding against the pavement. You want nothing more than to be alone to think, to process the last ten life changing minutes, yet you find yourself at an all too familiar place - Tommy and Maria’s house. Other than the General Store, it’s the only place you actually know in town, and your feet seemed to carry you here of their own accord, seeking safety.

Harsh footfall up the steps, bursting through the screen door left unlocked, into the house, and up the stairs. You don’t even have the wherewithal to slam the door shut and signal for that privacy you so desperately crave but have almost never gotten in the last ten years. You throw yourself down on the bed, instantly curling up into the pillow and crying out a loud sob. You can’t get a grip, can’t make your mind up on how you feel. Are you angry with them, for calling you that? Or angry at yourself because deep down you knew it was true - exactly what they’d think of the way you’ve been with Joel? You don’t want to go back there, you don’t. You can’t. There isn’t a way to have the best of both worlds here. Joel will never concede to them, and Harry and Josephine believe they deserve to have you back.

But hadn’t Joel made a good point? Why had they told you to run? They’d sent you off alone with just your pack, all while chaos unraveled around you in the community as the raiders took over. Did they actually believe you were strong enough to make it on your own? Or were they taking a gamble in a seemingly hopeless situation to keep you alive?

You can’t keep up, the thoughts a swirling, tangling mess inside your head, a scream stuck in your throat that just turns into sob after sob as you feel your head throbbing in pain, threatening to split wide open. You haven’t had to think like this, think so much for yourself, in a long time.

“Jesus, there you are!” Joel’s voice booms from the doorway to the bedroom. You hear in his voice that he’s out of breath, and then his footsteps move further into the room, but don’t want to look at him. You suddenly feel ashamed now that you’re faced with the prospect of having to talk to him, look him in the eyes, simply wishing you were better for him like he’s taught you to be. 

“Y’can’t… do that. Runnin’ off like that,” Joel growls, and you still keep your head down, knowing he can see the familiar way your body shakes and heaves as you try to suppress your crying. “Look at me. I said… look at me. Do not make me ask twice after runnin’ off like that.” 

His words nearly send a chill through you as you hear the tension, the slowly bubbling rage building up. You’d scared him, you realize that - he doesn’t do well with the concept of you running away, and if you’re honest with yourself, neither do you. Clearly. You still can’t bear to face him, feeling the embarrassment of your overreaction heating your now tear streaked, puffy face.

“I don’t…” You sniffle, burying your head a little deeper in the pillow before finally lifting it up, glancing at Joel with teary, bloodshot eyes. “I don’t know anything about you.”

Joel’s stance stiffens, hardens in defense as his hands plant on his hips. It’s clear he hadn’t expected to hear you say anything even remotely like that, knowing in the past he’s always been able to quickly comfort you when you’re emotional like this. The stark difference in your tone charges the air between you, now thick with tension.

“That’s bullshit. You know everything you need to know about me. That’s… that’s jus’ them gettin’ in your head,” he growls out. “Jus’ like they wanted. Playing their games.”

“You never talk about anything - y-your past, anything about you…” You take in a deep, steadying breath, willing your voice to stop wavering enough to get the words out before you burst into tears again. “E-everybody here, they’re talking about you like I should know things. Know about how you lived here, things about your past, and I look s-so… stupid. I feel stupid.”

Joel’s jaw ticks as he considers your words, the best way to answer them. He’s always so calculated, and you wish for once he’d speak to you from his heart, a privilege you offer him more times than he ever has in return. “It’s not… relevant. Thas’ why I don’t talk about it. You only need to know what we have now, that’s it. Fuckin’... clean an’ simple.” He brushes his palms together, the rough, scratchy sound filling the room, as if to tell you it’s done and dusted, nothing more needs to be said on the matter. The empty pit inside of you widens in desperation.

You blink your watery eyes slowly, a pang pulsing through your chest as the empty pit inside of you widens in desperation. “Just tell me one thing. One piece of you. Please.”

He pauses for a long, silent beat, looking down at where you lay in the bed, pulled in on yourself, giving him an expectant, sad stare. “Yes, I lived here,” he says plainly with little emotion behind the words as he stands stiffly.

A little air rushes out. A start. Something. “Why did you leave?”

“Wasn’t a place f’me anymore.” His eyes avoid yours, arms now crossing over his chest tightly. 

That tiny piece of your chest that had loosened tightens right back up. It’s not enough, he never gives enough of himself for you to understand. “B-but why?!” you shoot back, quickly shifting yourself to sit up, trying to show him the frantic desperation written on your face.

“I- it’s not important, anymore, sweetheart. Why all these questions, huh? The sudden fuckin’ interrogation here? You were happy before all ‘f this.” Joel is quickly ramping up, you can feel it, the tension thickening in the room with his sour mood.

You slowly shake your head, unsatisfied with his avoidance, the constant way he brushes you off as soon as you try to get close to him. Tears start to fall again, and you see the fat droplets land on where you sit cross legged on the bed. Your shoulders sag, and you roll to lay back town, turning yourself away from Joel’s scornful glare. “Y-you… you ruined me, like they said. A… a whore. They wouldn’t even want me back, would they?” you ramble in a sobbing slur, curling in on yourself.

Joel scoffs, an incredulous chuckle leaving his mouth indicating he thought your words were anything but amusing. “And that’s what you want, huh? Is it?!” he spits out angrily. “You want to go runnin’ back to that shithole where they didn’t let you have anything? Made you into a fuckin’... a puppet? Took away any way to think for your damn self an-”

“Like you do?!” you interrupt him angrily, slapping a hand over your mouth immediately, regret making your insides flash hot. You didn’t mean it, you didn’t, you swear, you beg inside your head, hoping he can somehow hear it as you sit frozen, breath hitched tightly inside of you. It was just the frustration talking, the unfairness of the situation you’d been thrown right into. You cringe when you dare to peek at his steely expression, so unreadable, the anger brewing just below the surface. A shaky, long puff of air sounds through the room as he steps towards you, his boots on the old wooden floor a sure example of his power. All powerful over you, you know, as his hand flashes out and grips you by the chin, making you turn your entire body towards him, your neck straining at the sudden, quick snap.

“Pl-”

“You want to try sayin’ that again? I’d love to hear you look me in the fuckin’ eyes and tell me that I don’t let you think for your god damned self. That I don’t give you everythin’ that they never could. Freedom. A fuckin’ warm home, food, fat cock shoved up your desperate little pussy. Let me remind you: you like it now, need it, an’ that’s because of me. ‘Cause of what I do for you. Actin’ like you’ve forgotten that.”

You try to shake your head, but it’s almost useless as his grip tightens and you wince. “N-no… no, please…” you beg. “You d-do… you give me… please… everything… I just -” 

He suddenly drops his hand with a grunt, your head falling back down to the pillow and you cry, a fresh stream of hot tears running down your cheeks. “You do…” you whimper quietly, repeating yourself as you rock your body gently. “Please… I just want to be alone. For once, please…” Your chest starts to cave in, emptiness filling the space that once held warmth, a dull ache spreading there that you don’t know how to fix. 

“No,” Joel says coldly, simply, sliding into the bed behind where you’re curled up. Thick, strong biceps wrap around you, his once comforting and familiar smell takes over your senses and it suddenly seems like a prison. You feel suffocated, panic blooming hot and tight in your stomach as you weep, starting to thrash against him. He squeezes tighter, trying to use his weight to calm you, to control you, but it only makes things worse. 

“Hey, stop. Stop it,” he grits out, straining as you grunt and cry, squirming in his grasp, finally starting to kick your legs at him. You know you’ve upset him maybe beyond repair, you’ve broken more rules than you can count now from the moment you’d stormed off until now, but it’s all too much, too raw. You wish more than anything in this heated moment that he’d just leave you alone, have left you alone. 

“Get off! Get - please!” you scream out, your leg making contact with his shin, doing nothing to deter him. In fact, it only makes him wrap a leg around yours, trying to hold them down. You shake as your body wracks with uncontrolled sobs, crying those same words over and over - Get off. Get off! Get off me!

You don’t realize it’s become a deafening roar, and the room is in chaos suddenly as you hear Tommy’s yelling cut through the rushing in your ears.

“Joel! Stop! Get the hell off of her!” he booms out, and when you try to whip your head to see the commotion, your bleary eyes pick up Tommy tugging at Joel, trying to throw him off of you. Joel whips back, his palms making contact with Tommy’s chest, pushing him backwards, not having the gall to get a punch in. Tommy stumbles backwards but lunges right back at Joel, grappling onto the collar of his plaid button-up and tugging him further away from the bed.

“She says get off, so get the hell off, Joel!” Tommy yells sternly, the two brothers now battling it out for dominance as Joel tries to get out from Tommy’s grip. “Give her some space,” he tries more practically when Joel continues to fight back, his eyes flashing dangerously.

“Stay the hell out of it! I’ve already told you,” Joel retorts, finally tearing himself from his brother as Tommy lets go, shoving Joel further from the bed in the process.

“My fuckin’ house, my fuckin’ rules. Get out of this room right now.”

“N-no, Tommy, it’s okay. Please d-don’t make him go,” you whimper out, unsure if they can hear you over their rage. You regret the way this entire conversation has gone - you should have just let it go, assured Joel that you were happy with him, because you are. You know you are, but something about seeing Harry and Josephine, feeling their judgment, brought you back to a completely different time in your life. One where you could never be good enough for them, where you were the failed child they always wanted. They had always been so hard on you, and while they told you it was because you had a bigger purpose to fulfill within the community, you’d never gotten the chance to find out what that purpose is. 

You’re curled up, sitting forward on the bed, watching as Tommy continues pushing Joel towards the door, and his eyes stay trained on you, completely unreadable other than some strange desperation behind them. You try to convey your swirling emotions to him, let him know you’re sorry, but he breaks eye contact with a grunt. 

“Fine,” he spits out, staring Tommy down.

You reach out desperately as they walk away, Tommy guiding Joel out of the bedroom. No. No no no this isn’t right. He doesn’t have to go.

You hear their bickering voices grow more distant along with the creak of the stairs leaving you behind. It’s a jumbled blur of voices on edge, the back and forth between brothers all fueled by adrenaline and anger. You shake as you come down from it all, letting yourself slip away into another bout of tears, hoping it’ll wear you out enough to sleep, if only to get away from this for a while.

You’ve finally gotten your wish to be alone, but at what cost?

You’ve been lying in this bedroom long enough for the entire rest of the evening to have passed you by. The last bits of light shine brightly through the dusty, spotted windows, broken up into what feels like a million little fragments as it sparkles across the far wall where you’ve been staring aimlessly. The long summer days have recently been filling you with extra gratitude for the late sunshine, but right now it’s too much a stark contrast to your mood. It forces you up in a sudden flurry to tug the curtain closed with a rage-filled gusto, plunging you into darkness. You fall back to the bed, chest heaving as you still face the window, lost in thought. A few slivers of light come in around the dark curtains, bouncing off the fabric of your dress and illuminating the room just enough to see as your eyes adjust.

“Hey,” a soft voice calls with a faint rap on the wood from just out of your periphery, making you jump.

“Oh.” You clutch at your chest for a brief moment, turning to see Tommy wearing a sympathetic smile. He’s stiff, his typically lively eyes a little more drained as they stare at you. “Y-you scared me, sorry.”

“That’s alright, uh-” His hands wring together as he scoots into the room just an inch. “Okay if I come in? Maria said she was gonna talk to you, woman to woman and whatnot but I think… well, it’s my brother, so I think it’s my mess to clean up.”

Your head starts to shake, hating the implication that you’re some kind of mess that needs to be fixed, sparkled back to new. All the trouble you’ve caused Joel and his family… could it be worth it for him anymore? “N-no, it’s not - it’s fine… it’s fine…”

“Not fine in my house,” Tommy quickly shoots back. “If y’want me to go, that’s okay too,” he says softly, and you get the sense he means it. That he’d gladly leave you alone to process, someone he hardly knows but has extended endless kindnesses to since you’d finally started to get off on the right foot together.

Tears brew behind your fluttering eyelids, a shaky exhale sounding so loud you feel embarrassed, your cheeks hot and now wet as the tears start to slide down. “Could you stay… please?”

His already doe-like eyes soften even further to something caring, paternal even, and he nods. “Of course,” he says, coming in and gingerly sitting at the very end of the bed.

“Is he gone?” you quietly squeak out, eyes shut as you await the news you’ve been waiting for. Joel is gone, he’s left after one too many disobediences, one step too far from you. You couldn’t be worth it anymore if you’re not going to be perfect and accepting of everything with no pushback, no real feelings of your own. 

“No,” Tommy says earnestly, seeming to hear the pain in your voice from assuming Joel had left you behind. “Just sent him out for a bit, probably found his way to the woods or somethin’. Even when we was kids, that boy took to the woods any time somethin’ was going on,” Tommy says, oddly lighthearted given the nasty way today’s events unfolded.

You stop breathing, lifting your eyes to his face, but Tommy remains unnoticing as he stares down at the mattress with a nostalgic air about him. Maybe the two of you do know the same Joel, in a sense. It’s hope, hearing what Tommy said. Joel had in one way or another taken to the woods before when things went wrong, hadn’t he? After the intrusion, what had he been looking out on night after night during his vigilant guarding? Where had he taken you to hike through when he knew the two of you needed to talk? His entire life was based around those woods, really, considering the location of the cabin he’d run to so he could escape whatever secrets laid here in Jackson.

“Jus’ wanted to check in on you. I, uh, don’t really know how much I should say. Think it’s really Joel’s business to tell you most of his shit, but -“ he cuts himself short, rubbing clammy hands on his jean clad thighs before finally glancing your way again. You know you must look nearly delirious as you sit forward, letting your hand fall onto the quilted adorning the bed, reaching out with suddenly wide eyes. 

“Please… p-please, Tommy. Just tell me anything. I -“ you blurt out, quickly retreating into your shell, looking downwards with bashful eyes. “Sorry… he just… Joel never wants to. I don’t know what’s real. I thought I did, but today showed me…”

Tommy chews on the inside of his lip, nodding thoughtfully. “I know. I can see it’s been a lot f’you, but -“ He sits up a little straighter with an abrupt determination. “How about this? I’ll try to answer your questions if you answer some of mine. I’ve got a hell of a lot of them,” he says.

An inevitable, coy smile spreads across your face and you give him a weak nod, feeling a little of your energy come back. This could work. “Deal.”

“Me first, mkay?” Tommy says, taking a deep breath, waiting for your nod to give the go ahead. “How’d you find my brother? Did he… force you to do anything you don’t want to do? Like stayin’ with him or somethin’? Uh, that kind of thing. Sorry, that was a few questions. Just… got a lot of ‘em, like I said.” He’s suddenly more fidgety, clear it’s hard for him to actually get the questions out given the sensitive content, and you understand. It’s strange, an uncomfortable situation to be in, and a creeping fear crawls through you that this is completely wrong, a total betrayal to Joel. Your Joel, you remind yourself as you feel your heart skip a nervous beat. 

“Um, that’s sort of… complicated I guess,” you say, twisting your hands in your lap. “He… he found me. Well, I found him when I was really bad off, and he fed me. And then he asked me to stay, if I wanted. At first I thought maybe I didn’t, but he showed me -” You can’t help but softly smile thinking back on all the ways Joel has taken care of you. “I’d never been seen by anyone before like I am by him. He actually wants me, a-and - and nobody ever has.” You cut off your own ramble with bleary eyes and shake your head “I don’t think it’d be a good idea for me to leave, and I think that Joel wouldn’t like that idea very much either.”

Tommy shifts, nodding in understanding, and you hate that he can clearly read through the lines on your tiptoe of an answer. “I gathered that. You never tried to leave?”

“My turn,” you say sheepishly, and Tommy returns the smile as his chest rumbles when a surprised chuckle bursts out.

“Fair enough.”

You bite your lip, the words sitting on your tongue but you hesitate. Deep down, did you really want to know? Could you go back to the way things were with just the miniscule tease of the person he used to be? Could you live with yourself if you didn’t take this opportunity for fear of betraying Joel, when his behavior could be considered the very same?

“What happened when Joel lived here before?”

Tommy sighs wearily, looking as if he’d expected as big of a question from you. “Like you said, it’s complicated. I really think you should hear it from him. I don’t know if you’re gonna like what you hear, it might hurt you.”

“Please, Tommy…”

He gives a few shakes of his head, swiping his fingers over his eyes. When he meets your gaze again, you can see the regret already lining his features, but he opens his mouth to speak, anyways. “He was… with someone here in town. It was a girl not unlike yourself - a bit older, though, I’d bet. He started seeing younger girls I don’t know when. It wasn’t… He wasn’t always like this - you need to know - but my brother, he’s been through a lot. Know we all have… but somethin’ about him broke, you know? So long ago I don’t think he knew how to get it back.”

You frown hearing the pain in Tommy’s voice, wondering how it translates to the pain buried deep inside of Joel. “W-what happened, Tommy?” you press him.

“He said some things, did some things, to that girl, that I guess were too far, I don’t know all the details. He was talkin’ about goin’ off together, begging her to take her away, or somethin’. She had a family here, people she cared about, but he didn’t care. T-thought that…” Tommy clears his throat, his fists tightening. “That he should be all she needed. He was, is, possessive, but you already know that, don’t you?” You nod quickly, caught up in the story. “I didn’t know how bad it was, until this one… ‘till he just lost it, an’ she showed up here tryin’ to get me to help. Poor girl looked like she’d been cryin’ for hours, an’ I saw…” He pauses to grimace, a hand floating to his neck and trailing there as his eyes study the space around your collar. “The marks, l-like yours. My brother came trailin’ behind her, screamin’, putting up all kinds of fight. He didn’t look right, an’ that’s cause, well… he isn’t, d’you understand?”

All you can feel is the steady rise and fall of your chest with your long breaths, the rest of your body succumbing to a strange, numb sensation while the words wash over you. The colors of the quilt blend together as your eyes lose focus, but you feel your head move, nodding again for Tommy. “Yes,” you finally answer, nearly in a whisper.

“He lost it that day… never seen him like that before. The loss was jus’ too much for him to bear, but it was never about that,” Tommy says, and he looks far away, his eyes unfocused and head shaking a little. “I’m sorry you had to hear it like this.”

He gives the both of you a quiet moment of processing before softly saying, “Can I ask you another?” 

You nearly bristle, not wanting to answer any more questions after you feel your heart still sinking to new depths, but still nod - you have more questions you need answered, too.

“Do you like it? The collar? Joel says you do.”

You hook your finger in the o-ring almost instinctively, wanting to remind yourself of the power it holds, the bond it created beyond the story you’d just heard. “I do.” You know you’re holding back when Tommy has given you so much in his answers, but you can’t care right now, your mind working in overdrive to still comprehend everything. “It’s something… special between us. I know it’s weird, that people don’t like this kind of thing. Joel told me that much, but I like it. It’s… safety, whether it makes me wrong or not, I - I don’t care anymore,” you finally add on defiantly.

Tommy breathes a chuckle, impressed at your sudden strength, the boldness about you with the confession. “It ain’t a mind game, then? That he’s done to you?”

You laugh now, cold and sardonically, giving Tommy a shrug. “I wouldn’t know if it was, would I?” You let a pause hang in the air. “No. It’s my choice now,” you add on more seriously, believing the words. 

“Jesus Christ, girl, you’re more than I gave you credit for,” he snorts, shaking his head. 

You chuckle shyly, bowing your head. “What happened next? With Joel?” you ask eagerly, remembering your mission.

“Er, it was pretty bad when it all went down so he left town. Word spreads fast, and that girl’s family was, well, rightfully upset about it all. Joel had been doin’ all kinds of rough things to her, said he was trying it out, but from the things I heard… he knew what he was doin’. He’s… dangerous in his own ways, y’know?” Tommy takes a long breath before continuing. “More than leavin’, he was driven out of town, really - people didn’t take too kindly to hearin’ the nasty details. But he liked to think he made the choice, found himself that new home way out there. I’ve worried about him a lot since then, honestly. But… maybe it helps knowin’ you’re there with him in the end. God, I don’t know. I’m all mixed up here, ‘m sorry sweetheart.” Tommy puts his head in his hands, running his palms down his face and blowing out another breath, looking up at the ceiling. 

“Me too,” you offer him in solidarity, finally able to break the trance your eyes had settled into and daring to look up again. Tommy finds your eyes watery but holding strong as the information still takes its time sinking in. This felt like a fabrication, something far away from what you and Joel have. You were the only one for him. He’d told you as much, hadn’t he? You were a gift, you were the one he’d been waiting for. 

“I - I don’t understand, though. Was he hurting that girl? Was he with her l-like he is me? W-was he… did he love her?”

Tommy’s brows twitch at your last question, a curious, almost dazed expression on his face. “I, uh, I don’t know. Don’t think that looked like love. More ‘n that I think he was jus’... lonely.” The final word is thrown out in defeat, Tommy slumping down a little as his hand falls against the mattress. His eyes quickly meet yours. “Has he hurt you?”

You feel your heart sink, knowing the truth is a resounding yes. Joel has hurt you in a multitude of ways. The physical pain, once you’d realized the part it played in things, was well worth it. A chance to be his good girl, his everything, was worth the bumps along the way, the occasional punishment when you broke those carefully laid out rules. The emotional pain, however, was another story, that one never quite finding a home within you, steadily beating along with your heart. You feel your lower lip tremble when you try to open your mouth to speak. 

“Yes,” you finally manage to squeak out, seeing Tommy’s eyes widen, his body nearly lunging off the bed, as if to go and catch the bastard who did this to you before settling back down to listen. “But it’s not l-like that, Tommy, I swear! Not like he hits me or anything like that. It’s j-just that at first, things were hard. I didn’t k-know what I wanted and some things happened. Now, he doesn’t hurt me like that. He’s good to me, he really is, please believe me. I don’t know why I s-said yes-”

“Shh, hey, no that’s okay. I believe you, I do,” Tommy interrupts, reaching a hand out and landing it on your forearm, giving it a squeeze before respectfully tucking it back. “I see what you’re saying. He does care about you.”

You nod quickly, swallowing hard and letting your breathing calm for a second. You can’t seem to stop the thoughts bursting through your mind, the entire thing feeling like a jumble that you can’t make sense of, can’t untangle enough to get a grip on any part of it. “Do you think… that he loves me?” you ask with tear filled eyes, knowing it’s your final question, your heart unable to take any more tonight.

Tommy’s shoulders sag and he leans forward. “I wish I knew the answer to that for you, I really do, sweetheart. If he ain’t said it, he’s not ready, and hell… My brother ain’t one to express that. It’s not really in our blood, the way we was raised. But he cares about you somethin’ fierce, I can see that. He wants to protect you, an he’d do anything to make that happen. I know you’re thinkin’ it, wondering, and… I can see how it’s different than before, how you two are… together. The look he had when he was watchin’ you, jus’... I think maybe in some weird way you’re helping him, ‘s all I’m tryin’ to say.”

The tiniest speck of relief washes through you and you give Tommy a weak smile. “Thanks,” you tell him, “For being honest.”

“You too,” he says, standing up off the bed. “I’m gonna have Joel sleep in the other bedroom tonight. I think y’all need to cool down. I want you to have some time to think about what I said, an’ maybe if you want to talk to him about it. Not that I’m tellin’ you what to do, just… some advice.”

You quickly wave off his insecurity. “No, it’s okay. I, uh, appreciate the advice.”

He gives you another glance from the doorway, a nod as he steps half steps out of the room, seeming uncomfortable to leave it there, but a moment later he’s disappeared out of sight and you hear the creak of the stairs as he goes down. You sigh out a long held, tight breath, willing your chest to unfurl even the slightest bit. You step out to go into the bathroom, promising yourself that you’ll take Tommy’s advice and get ready for bed, putting some space between you and Joel for the evening.

“How is she?” you suddenly hear murmured from the floor below. As soon as the voices start to carry further away, you slowly creep from the bathroom, perching yourself on that same spot on the stairs where you’d heard Joel and Tommy arguing earlier, hating that this is what you’ve come to. You always did find yourself more of a fly on the wall, but this felt lower than that, deliberate snooping even after Tommy spoke so candidly with you. You squeeze your eyes shut, straining to hear from their position further away in the kitchen, trying to hush their voices.

”- an’ I don’t know what to make of it, baby, I really don’t,” Tommy says as you pick him back up from your new spot. His tone is different now, you notice. He sounds torn, distressed, finally able to put down the walls in front of his partner. “She didn’t know ‘bout any of it. Don’t know what he’s been tellin’ her, but -“ His voice strains for a moment. “She’s in deep. She’s convinced she’s in love, I think.”

You don’t hear Maria’s response, a jumbled blur of words at your distance, but Tommy starts talking again.

”Yeah, right, almost like stockholm syndrome, or somethin’…” He sighs. “Fuck.”

”Is she… hurt?”

”No… far as I know jus’ upset an’ all that. She likes things the way they are though, likes the… y’know,” he says, and you can picture Tommy touching his neck like he’d done with you. “I just can’t shake the feelin’ that we should be doin’ more to help. Poor girl is just… lost. She seems so attached, like she’s defending everything he does an-”

You don’t have the heart to listen, starting to tune it out as your heart sinks while you hear the way they’re talking about you. They think you’re crazy, don’t they? They don’t believe that you and Joel could have something real, that you’ve never felt like you had more of a place than right in Joel’s arms. It makes betraying tears well up again in your already raw, scratchy eyes and you try to ignore them, readying yourself to stand back up when their conversation catches your attention again.

“Does she know about Sarah?” Maria asks, sadness lacing her voice.

“No…” Tommy declares. “Or at least, didn’t seem to.”

Your eyes bounce around in the dimly lit staircase, the gears in your brain starting to turn again. More secrets. You think it with a slowly sinking heart, wondering if you could ever be truly satisfied with the cavernous history that Joel carries around - so heavy, yet so unwilling to let you help unload the burden.

The night continues to be unkind to you, ruminations rolling through your mind as you turn over in bed for what feels like the hundredth time. Another errant tear slips down your cheek and you wipe it away angrily, starting to feel the emotions boring a hole through you. Was this the end of everything as you knew it? Could you reconcile the version of Joel you knew with what you’d seen and heard tonight? What were you to him, if you were not the first? Not the angel that landed in his life, giving him everything he’d hoped for - he’d had it all before already. 

And yet, you crave him. You yearn for him deeply, tossing yourself over in the bed, nearly readying to scream into your pillow. His touch, his hands roaming down your back in sweet comfort, telling you it’s all okay as you apologize to him over and over. You’re burning up in shame for your behavior earlier, the heat prickling your skin getting close to unbearable. Would he still want you after completely losing yourself earlier? Forgetting your place? Could you have ruined everything?

You throw the sheets off in a huff, landing your bare feet on the cool planks of wood before making your way to the door. Trying to avoid creaking, you open it slowly, tiptoeing your way across the hall where you’d seen the other guest room earlier, praying that you’d find what you were searching for in here.

A familiar shape in the shadows, taking up one side of the bed, urges you forward until you reach it, hands out to hoist yourself onto the bed. You clamber forward, crawling over top of his body and sinking yourself down right where he lays on his back, letting your hips meet. He doesn’t react, but you know he’s awake by the tiny jolt of breath he’d let out once you put your weight on him. You can feel the energy radiating off of him, you know him well enough to sense the way his hands are twitching to touch you.

You tried to be stronger than this, you tried to hold back, but as soon as your hands find the comfort of his cushy middle, wrapping around to tuck under his body, not caring if they’re crushed against the mattress, you start to cry. Fat tears stream out as your head falls to his chest, quickly turning to a childlike weeping, uncontrollable and embarrassing. 

“I-I’m sorry, daddy, I’m sorry…” you whisper as quietly as you can, gasping in a breath before repeating yourself in pathetic whimpers. You’d grovel at his feet right now, if he asked you to, and the thought doesn’t even bother to send one trace of shame through you. “Please…” you whisper when he doesn’t move or respond, just letting you completely fall apart on top of him.

“C’mere…” Joel finally rumbles, his hands sliding up around your body, one planted on your back, the other tucking your head closer to him. “Okay, there we go…” he coos soothingly as his actions make you cry harder

“Daddy, please…” you whine, unsure what you’re asking for. You just want the pain to stop, you want it all to stop. The doubt. The anger. The terrifying notion that you may be making the entirely wrong choice right now. But you don’t care - love makes you do careless things sometimes, you’ve learned.

“Shh, shh… jus’ relax, let it all out f’me,” Joel goes on, the picture of placidity as he holds onto you, letting you cry. It’s almost as if the anger from earlier had never existed. 

“I don’t - I-I don’t like when we fight… when I’m bad.” You hiccup through your sobs, and you feel Joel’s hand stroking at the back of your head. “I j-just wanted a minute to t-think, but I was b-bad…”

“I know,” he says cooly, and you wish you could know what he’s thinking, gauge his mood after your disobedience. He starts to shift, sitting up against the headboard, and you follow, wrapping yourself around him again as you straddle his lap. You lift your head, finding his dark eyes only slightly illuminated in the dim room, and his thumb finds your cheek, swiping off some of the tears. You don’t know what compels you to do it, but you lean into him and press your lips to his. You taste the salt of your tears as they leak down to your mouth combined with the mint of his toothpaste. Joel doesn’t respond at first, his lips completely still against yours before he quickly gives in, his hand snaking around the back of your head.

”Did I hurt you today?” he asks you, gravelly and quiet, and you nod. His fingers touch your chin with a gentleness he rarely affords you, right on the spot he’d gripped earlier.

”B-but it’s okay,” you quickly pardon him, catching his lips with yours again as you start to hiccup, coming down from your sobs. Your hands start to work, desperately pulling at his waistband, only clad in a pair of briefs. He doesn’t stop you when you tug it lower and you can feel his thick, half hard length spring free to meet your belly. It’s warm, a feeling of home as it rubs against you when you shift. You moan before you can bite it back, and feel him harden against you as your noises echo so close to his ear. 

You want him so badly it starts to burn at your skin. You want to worship him and remind him you know how to be his. You lost yourself today, that’s all it is. You aren’t even angry with him for the stories you’d heard from Tommy. You don’t know if you can fault him for things that happened before he’d even met you, even if a strange jealousy bubbles deep inside of you at the thought of another girl hearing the praises that belong to you, his title falling from her lips. 

You slink away, detaching your arms from his middle, shimmying down his legs until the head of his cock meets your face - a shiny, enticing bead of precum already at the tip. You want to taste it, taste him, be so full of him that it hurts and he has no choice but to forgive you. “N-need to show you…” you mumble in an almost delirious haze, licking your lips.

His eyes are too dark to follow in the low light, but you know he’s silently watching, not uttering a single protest to your actions. You can picture his brow cocked slightly, eyes flashing at you in the way they do when he wants to see how you’ll act next, like he’s studying you. 

You keep your own gaze locked on his, hopefully illuminated enough by the moonlight, as you stick your tongue out, lapping at his thick head. He doesn’t move, doesn’t twitch a muscle but you press on, trying to swirl your tongue around it a few times. You feel an insanity grip you at the salty taste of him, grasping the base of his cock to hold it steady while you start to rub your cheek along it. The skin is so smooth against yours, all the way until you get to the bristly hairs at the base. You stick your tongue out, letting it lick a thick stripe up his cock as you slide your face back along the length. 

Joel finally breaks, a groan slipping past his lips as he watches your eagerness and starts to feel how desperate you are for him. “Jesus…” he whispers in complete awe of you, watching on as you whine against him, ramping up your movements. 

You’re cut off with a little squeak when his hands grip underneath your arms and roughly pull you upwards, settling you back on his lap. You quickly catch on, the two of you fumbling around in the dark as Joel tries to get your sleep shorts down your legs, quickly tugging your underwear to the side as soon as he can. You grind your teeth as he lines himself up and pushes in without hesitation or warning, stretching you over his cock with a guttural groan. 

“That’s it…” he utters in relief under his breath, urging you to lift your hips and slide down again, taking even more of him. 

“Daddy…” you choke out in reply, wrapping your arms around his neck, clinging to him. “I didn’t mean a-any of it. I w-won’t fight with you anymore, daddy,” you pant out, wincing as Joel starts to bounce you faster before your body is ready for it.

“No? Seemed pretty damn keen on it today, ‘fore you wanted this cock…” he grunts out angrily, yet not stopping as he keeps on harshly fucking himself into you.

You shake your head, your eyes fluttering quickly as you try to gain your composure. “J-just needed to say sorry, somehow…” you sputter out. “Please, daddy…”

Joel grunts in response as he grips your hips tighter, slamming you down onto his cock in full force now. It’s never felt quite like this in all the times he’s been rough with you. It’s nearly unhinged, wild, and he’s so deep inside of you at this angle it starts to hurt. You clutch onto his shoulders, digging your nails in before you can even realize you might be hurting him, but he makes no indication either way.

“You want daddy to forgive you, that it?” he asks with another cruel thrust down, rutting his hips upwards at the same time, making his hips meet where he’s pulling yours into him over and over. 

You can only make a tiny, squeaking sound, your body being jolted up and down too quickly to even get your head on straight. You think you’re nodding, your eyes rolling back while you try to catch your breath to no avail. 

“I know you didn’t mean it,” Joel adds on between breaths, between the relentless way he’s repeatedly pounding your body down into his. So merciful of him.

“Y-yes…” you manage to get out, desperate for him to understand what you’ve been trying to say with your body. You throw your head back to speak before tucking it close to him again, burying it in the crook of his shoulder. You suddenly taste the salt on his neck, your lips mindlessly placing sloppy, open mouthed kisses on his rough skin as you bounce on his cock. Your tongue laps at him, eyes rolled back as you feel yourself stuffed too full to even handle much longer but taking it anyways. For Joel.

Your head is yanked off his neck by the collar, a picture of subservience with your eyes fluttering, mouth still parted open, wishing you could taste his skin again. “Y-yeah, daddy forgives you, honey. How could I not with the way you’re droolin’ for me right now… look at that mouth hangin’ open. Cock dumb, that’s what y’are…” Joel grits out each word with a little venom, but the pride behind it gives you the satisfaction you were craving.  

“T-thank you…” you stutter out, feeling relief flood your chest as it loosens up. “Thank you thank you thank you,” you continue to chant under your breath until you can’t anymore, feeling the familiar building up inside your belly, pulling tighter and tighter. 

“Quiet now,” Joel warns, and you’d barely realize you’ve been making that much noise above the lewd sounds your bodies were making every time Joel slammed into you. “Wouldn’t want Tommy to hear, would we?” You try to shake your head above the haze swimming in your mind. “Or maybe you want him to see, that it? See how good I make you feel, what a little slut you are for your daddy…”

You let out an involuntary moan at his nasty words and the imagery it paints. The thought alone makes you clench around him, trying hard to keep quiet as he stuffs you full. “Y-yes, sir,” you say breathlessly, barely comprehending what you’re agreeing to as you can only think of chasing your high.

“Atta girl, ride daddy’s cock like you mean it,” Joel punches out as you start to move your hips of your own accord, desperate for the building pressure inside of you to just release. 

“Come for me, blossom.” Joel’s words pull you back to reality enough to let yourself go, finally letting the pleasure wash over you in full. It isn’t long before Joel finds himself pressing deep inside of you, giving you everything he has, and you start to feel like it’s a fresh start, a cleanse from earlier. 

Laying together, a sheen of sweat drying off the both of you in the stilted air of the room, Joel pulls you a little closer. He traces mindless shapes along your arm where his own is slung behind you, a hand meeting your shoulder. It’s peaceful now, the moments when you both come down from your highs and you feel that all is right in the world again.

“What did Tommy tell you?” he asks in a soft, gravelly voice, and you feel yourself stiffen as fear creeps into you. Your lips part, but you can’t find the right words just yet, unsure just how much you should divulge to him. “I know he talked t’you. You can tell me,” Joel urges you on, only tightening the knot growing in your stomach.

At your silence Joel squeezes your shoulder. “I want to tell you what you want to know. M’sorry I’ve been selfish, blossom. You deserved to hear more of it from me… I-I realize that. Daddy can be wrong sometimes, too. Shouldn’t have brought you here without tellin’ you what we’d run into,” Joel confesses, and you lean your head into him, staring off with wide, shocked eyes. “So c’mon, let’s talk about it.”

An instant wave of relief floods your chest, making you feel pounds lighter than you have in days. You can hardly believe his words, wondering what could have brought about such a change of heart in Joel, if Tommy really had an effect on him today.

“I - uh - he told me some stuff about when you lived here,” you say vaguely, fiddling your fingers together.

“Figured as much.”

“B-but I asked. He didn’t want to tell m-me, so please don’t be mad at him, daddy. I don’t want you and Tommy fighting anymore because of me.”

Joel sighs softly. “It ain’t because of you. There’s more to it than that, lots of history there that has nothin’ to do with you. You can’t blame y’self for that.”

You nod half heartedly. “Still… he’s upset because it’s like… like the last time…”

Joel nudges at your shoulder. “Spit it out, honey. Just say it. I want to hear you say what you know.”

“You loved someone else,” you finally throw out with frustration. “Or… you thought someone was special like me.”

Joel bites the inside of his lower lip, thinking. “I did,” he replies plainly. “But that was very different.”

You hardly hear his words, your pent up emotions spilling out as the jealousy climbs up into your chest again, making it tight. “Was I just -” you start with a wobbly voice, blinking away the annoyance of tears welling up. “Was I just a replacement for her?”

You feel Joel go a little slack next to you, and you jump to wondering what’s going through his mind. Have you finally cracked the code, seen right through him for once in your entire relationship? Your head feels dizzy awaiting his answer, already feeling the lump in your throat press at you again, readying tears for the inevitably heartbreaking reply you’re sure to receive from him.

“Jesus Christ, baby, no. No, not… never even thought of that,” Joel rushes out, his voice nothing but sincere and even a little hurt.

You tilt your head, twisting it to look up at him from where you’re nestled at his shoulder, hoping to read the truth on his face. “R-really?” you ask incredulously, seeming to have already made your mind up that you were a second rate version of what he’d really wanted all those years ago.

“Yes. You really think that of me?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore…” you say mousily, averting your eyes back down. It’s a harsh truth, one you know Joel won’t be particularly happy to hear, but you’re tired of holding back so often you’re left wondering about nearly every facet of his life.

“N-no,” Joel says sharply, grabbing at your chin to tilt your face to look at him again. “Look at me. That’s not what this is. What happened before has nothin’ to do with you. I made mistakes back then, an’ this ain’t a mistake.”

“Do you regret it?” you ask, finally starting to let the questions roll off your tongue. You’ll be damned if you don’t get more answers than you ever have tonight.

“No,” he replies bluntly. “I don’t. She an’ I both wanted what we had until she got scared an’ tried to end it. I - I made mistakes, like I said. I didn’t want to let her go, but look where it led me,” he says with his eyes softening at you, looking at your curious face peering up at him with as much admiration as you’ve ever seen. “I’m not gonna say I regret it jus’ to make you feel better. But I wouldn’t want it today.”

“You hurt her…?” Half a question, half a statement you believe to be true based on what Tommy said.

“Not any more than I’ve hurt you, if that’s what you’re wonderin’. She wasn’t like you, baby, she wasn’t… the right person f’me. You take it all so well, want to be a good girl for daddy, don’t you?”

You feel your lip quiver when you start to nod, knowing that you’re telling the entire truth. Despite the whirlwind of everything you’ve learned in Jackson, the love you feel for Joel doesn’t seem to want to wane, even when it’s this painful. You don’t want to be anything but his, really. You’ve never wanted anything the way you want this in your life. You like his rules, the collar wrapped around your neck that he helps you take on and off when needed with a reverence you’ve never been graced with before. The way he hurts you and pleasures you all in the same moment, bringing you to a place you never could have imagined. Your life revolves around him, and you both know it. But doesn’t his revolve around you just the same? How could there be any shame in two people caring about each other that much?

“Good…” Joel responds, his thumb stroking at your chin and jaw.

Your eyes look at him but can’t focus, a blur in front of you as your mind drifts further away. “Tommy made it sound like we were the same. Like I was just… a replacement. That we’d have the same ending.”

Joel listens intently to your concerned words, nodding softly. “He’s right that I have things I like a certain way. I’m not sugarcoating that. I’ve always wanted a girl to call me the things you call me, to act the way you do for me. It’s a… special relationship not everyone understands, an’ you’ve seen that already, haven’t you?” 

You feel breathless, only able to give him another nod in confirmation. 

“I’ve never been able to have it - all these things I wanted - ‘till you, sweetheart. You shouldn’t doubt that jus’ because of what Tommy told you… that all happened a long time ago now.” 

You feel your blood running hot, the intimacy hanging in his every word stunning you to the core. He doesn’t often give you this many words, this much of an explanation of anything, really. Not when it pertains to the inner workings of his mind and feelings. 

“You - you always wanted that? You wanted what you have with me? A girl to wear one of these…” You touch your collar. “And - and be with you?”

“For a long time, yeah, sweetheart. It drove me away from this place ‘cause it was too hard not havin’ it once I settled here. When life finally settled down f’me after the Outbreak, I learned just how bad I needed someone like you. It’s like… a craving… you ever crave a certain food?”

You nod delicately, your brow tightly drawn inwards.

“It’s like that, but for you.”

You shy your gaze away for a beat, a soft smile turning almost into a laugh at his imagery. “You crave me?” you ask.

“Yes, you,” he teases. “And all the things you do for me. The things you call me. Seein’ you fit right into that role like such a good girl. After I got even a little bit of it before, I couldn’t let it go, realized I needed it. Then… I jus’ thought bein’ alone would just be better in the end, I guess, after I left Jackson. It was too hard findin’ someone who didn’t… who understood me. I was givin’ up on everything when you found me.”

Joel’s words send your stomach fluttering, the thought that you really did that much for him sending a warmth skittering across your skin and blooming in your chest. You aren’t sure if you believe it in full, not sure how you could really be that manifestation of his dreams. Aren’t you too disobedient at times? Don’t you ask too many questions? Get too emotional about what he chooses to give you, instead of being happy he gives anything at all? Your mind starts to spin a little as you just stare at him.

“A-are you sure you don’t wish I was better?” you mumble out, self depreciation at the forefront of your mind despite everything he’s said.

Joel scoffs into a sneer that’s caught between amusement at your innocence and frustration that you’d think so low of what you two have built together. “I’ve never asked more of you than what I know y’can do,” he says somewhat vaguely, pausing to watch your face fall even further, but understanding washes over your features. “Don’t want you to change, honey, jus’... stay like this - my good little girl - mkay? Jus’ us against all of it.”

A pang of sadness shoots through your chest. “Why does it have to be that way, daddy?” you whimper out. There was too much complication now, too much confusion. How could you go back to the way things were when you know this place now, the livelihood it holds. When you know that the only thing you’ve had as a family for the last nine years is here? The first thing you’d done is disappoint them again, though, you realize. “Harry and Josie… they…” you try to verbalize everything you’re thinking but come up short. 

“Oh, baby,” Joel coos, kissing the top of your head. “You’ve got too much goin’ on in there. Jus’ let me take care of everythin’ for you. I’ll keep it simple, only ask you one question, and you tell me the answer. Truthfully.”

“Yes, daddy,” you respond demurely, awaiting his next words with bated breath. 

“Would you rather be with them?” It makes you sick, his question that has only one correct answer. A man’s property can never really get away from him, can it? Joel’s words echo deep inside of you, giving you a sudden smattering of goosebumps.

You hesitate, even if your gut answer climbs up your throat in an instant. “I-I don’t think so,” you start, licking your lips nervously. “But I feel bad.”

“Don’t,” Joel clips. “You know now they didn’t treat you the way you deserved.” He shifts restlessly next to you. “I do. An’ besides, you belong to me now.”

His words send a heady feeling through you, the skin of your neck suddenly prickling with awareness of the collar that sits upon it all hours of the day. “Yours…” you echo, the urge always there to reply that way any time he says it. You like to belong. Maybe a little too much for comfort - a craving at this point - and the desperation fueling it scares you when you start to realize just how deep it runs. But if Joel is true to you, you don’t have to worry about anything - you will always belong with him.

“That’s right, baby,” he says proudly, hushed in the dark of the room.

The day finally catches up to you, the safety of Joel’s arms wrapped around you unfailingly lulling you into a sleepy sense of security as you snuggle up to him. The conversation naturally fades now, just the calm sounds of both of your breathing filling the room. You try to rest, feeling your thoughts still tugging at you in multiple directions no matter how hard you try to will yourself to sleep. You can’t get that one thing out of your mind, wondering if this fresh start of Joel sharing tonight will continue, only if you dare to ask.

“Daddy…?” you ask softly, biting your lip nervously. His chest rises and falls so evenly, you wonder if he’s already asleep. A tiny hum slips past his lips, making your eyes widen while you swallow hard.

“W-who’s Sarah?”

The trailing silence is the loudest you’ve ever heard, the room suddenly devoid of anything at all other than this tense, full quiet. Even Joel’s chest stops moving for a moment, holding his breath. He sighs, then, and slides himself out from underneath you, turning onto his side and facing away from you.

“Goodnight, blossom.”

Tommy looks up from the table, spreading jam onto a golden brown piece of bread, the scraping sound loud and grating as it cuts the tension. Maria pauses at the coffee maker, holding the mug up to her lips, silently watching.

“Mornin’,” Joel says, opting to speak first as he enters the kitchen. He runs a hand across the back of his neck, stopping at the chair across from his brother and leaning his hands on it. 

“Mornin’,” Tommy grumbles in reply.

“I’ll… leave you two to talk,” Maria says, shooting a warning glance Joel’s way. He looks down sheepishly, knowing that while Maria was never his biggest fan, he hadn’t been doing anything to change things in his favor for her recently. But this morning left him feeling refreshed, your visit from the night before, the way he’d managed to open up to you, it felt like an entirely new world. He hoped he could make amends with Maria, have her see what he sees when it comes to your relationship with him.

“You cooled off?” Tommy asks sharply once Maria steps out, glancing up for only a moment before biting into his toast with a loud crunch.

Joel rubs aggressively at his eyes. “Yes, I’m cooled off,” he snips before reigning himself in. “Look, Tommy, I wasn’t expecting so much… er, conflict when we came. ‘M sorry it got out of hand.”

Tommy lifts his eyes to his brother’s, smiling softly. “A rare day to get an apology from you,” he teases before letting his face fall again. “I know it’s been intense. But y’know I vouch for you bein’ here in Jackson still to trade an all that after what went down those years back, so just... you can’t go around threatenin’ people in town. You know the community here is peaceful.”

“I know,” Joel cuts in, nodding in understanding. “Won’t happen again.” A promise he isn’t sure he can keep, but for Tommy’s sake, he can at the very least try. 

“Now get your ass some breakfast,” Tommy says, gesturing to the kitchen behind where he sits. Joel lumbers over to the island, cutting off another piece of bread from the loaf Tommy had left out, slicing a few extra with you in mind.

“She still sleepin’?” Tommy calls over his shoulder while Joel loads up the toaster.

“Mhm,” Joel murmurs. “Late night.”

“And you know that because…?” Tommy asks, clearly already knowing the answer.

“If you’re gettin’ at what I think you are… yes, she’s in my room,” Joel admits grouchily, sending Tommy rolling his eyes and sighing into his toast.

“She’s okay though?” Tommy questions with true concern in his voice. It pulls at Joel’s heart, realizing that even through one stressful, tense day together, his brother has found such care for you. 

“Doin’ better. We got to talkin’ last night. Don’t know why I never told her ‘bout any of it, jus’... didn’t feel right…” Joel sighs, lost in thought as he brings over two plates to the table piled with pieces of toast and jam.

Tommy nods contemplatively before rubbing at his tired eyes, the dark circles surrounding them more prominent than usual. “Joel…” he starts, folding his hands together and pushing his plate away. “Harry and Josephine… they came by this morning.”

“Wh-” Joel scoots out his chair, rushing to stand as if a threat is right there in the room with them, readying to take you away.

“Relax, please. Sit down,” Tommy says, watching as Joel slinks back down into his chair. “Someone had to explain jus’ what the hell is going on to them, don’t you think?” Joel only shrugs, getting another eye roll from Tommy. “Much as you think you know them, they don’t know who the hell you are, so imagine they might be a bit confused why you started some shit with them yesterday,”

“Thought you used to like starting shit,” Joel mumbles, flashing back to Tommy’s relentless days of bar fights.

“You know it ain’t like that here. I ain’t like that anymore. I’d do a lot for you, but I ain’t gonna fight those nice folks for you.”

“Nice,” Joel scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, real nice. You do realize they’re from a cult, right?”

Tommy’s lips press into a thinner line. “More or less,” he replies with a shrug. “They lost their home, Joel. Been through hell before gettin’ here to Jackson.”

“I’ve been through hell, too. Don’t mean I owe them my time. If you knew what she was like when I found her -” Joel quickly seethes, pausing to grip the sides of the wood table and take a deep breath.

“I don’t doubt it. She’s very impressionable, naive, I can see that, and she doesn’t seem to have a place in the world. I - I get it, you’re scared of losin’ her. I know that.”

“No shit I am,” Joel snaps. “I ain’t going through that ag- I just… I can’t let her go. She means more than the other stuff, than before. It ain’t like with Scarlett.” The name falls awkwardly off his tongue, a forbidden word that he almost never let cross his mind anymore, not since what happened. He’d spent a long time plagued by the scenes that day - the madness he was convinced took over his mind, the person he became that couldn’t be who he truly was. Those ruminations had faded when you came along, tucked neatly away with his focus now on protecting your future together. But yesterday, the threat that had barreled in and posed a threat to that future… Joel wasn’t sure he could hold back that beast he’d unleashed that day with Scarlett. Anything it took, anyone he had to take down in the process, he knew he wasn’t above any of it.

Tommy’s face is strained at the mention of Scarlett’s name, and Joel knows memories of those days haunt his brother as well. “I just - you did a lot of damage before, an’ I can’t have you waltzing in and doin’ the same again. Just… don’t hurt that girl.”

Joel opens his mouth to speak, to defend himself, but Tommy continues on. “Anyway, I was gettin’ to tellin’ you that Harry and Josephine want to see her again. See if she’s okay and apologize for yesterday.”

“Absolutely not,” Joel immediately shoots back, completely losing interest in the breakfast plated before him.

Tommy’s brows go up. “Could try askin’ her, couldn’t you?”

“She said she didn’t want to see them.”

“She should know they came by either way,” Tommy insists, leaning forward onto the table.

“Fine.” Arms crossed over his chest, Joel sits back and shakes his head to himself, letting a heavy silence fall between him and Tommy. Your footsteps down the stairs cause the pair to pull back the tension, watching as you appear in the living room, making your way to where you hear signs of life in the kitchen beyond. 

“Oh, mornin’ sweet girl,” Joel coos at you in a completely new tone, seeing you walk in, a vision with your still sleepy eyes and disheveled pajamas, amused knowing the reason why you were up so late last night. 

You pad over, rubbing at your eyes and smiling softly at the sight of Joel, mussed morning hair and circles under his eyes from your night together. You lean your head onto his, snuggling up to where he sits below you. 

“Morning daddy,” you say with a yawn, turning to greet Tommy as well, whose face has completely fallen. Joel realizes the blunder at the same moment you do, his face pulling in on itself, nearly a look of guilt as your own cheeks start to go blazing hot. You’ve broken another rule that Joel had set for you, just one simple thing to avoid any more trouble here in Jackson. You whip your head to look down at him, anxiety written all over your face.

“I w-wasn’t thinking, I’m s-sorry…” you stutter out, holding an anxious breath tightly in your chest. 

Joel reaches out, a gentle hand laid on your wrist. “It’s alright. We’ll talk about it later,” he says in a low voice before turning to his brother. It seems like Tommy can’t help but soften a little at seeing your anxiety stricken face. 

“Y’know what? For once in my life, I don’t wanna know more. I - I can’t take another damn thing right now,” Tommy half mumbles, putting his head in his hands. He shakes it for a moment, and then he laughs. It’s an exasperated one, but it makes Joel laugh, and soon enough you’re covering your own mouth to stifle your own giggle. The three of you laughing together, releasing the tension from the last twenty four hours, sounds like the sweetest harmony to your ears.

“I’m sorry, Tommy,” you say sheepishly, feeling Joel’s arm snake around your waist, pulling you onto his knee. He pats your thigh, giving it a squeeze before nudging you off of him. 

“Breakfast,” he utters quietly, the one word you know he means as a command as he gestures at the plate sitting on the table. Two pieces of toast, already slathered in jam for you - berry from the looks of it. 

“That’s alright, then. Don’t worry yourself sick over it, okay? I just - I need to learn to mind my god damned business one of these days,” Tommy replies lightheartedly as you plop down into the chair next to Joel’s and start poking at the toast. 

You shoot him an understanding smile. “Still. Sorry to make it, er, uncomfortable or weird.” 

“I’ve come to expect it with this one now,” Tommy teases in Joel’s direction, getting an eye roll from his brother. 

Maria breezes back in moments later with her coffee, getting a refill, and upon seeing you seated at the table, she comes over to join with a little smile aimed your way, giving Tommy a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. You like how protective she seems over you for how little she knows you. While you know it has more to do with her feelings towards Joel than it does with you, you still like it.

Joel’s hand settles onto your thigh under the table, tracing circles with his thumb, a constant reminder of his presence and devotion to you. It settles you instantly as you finally start to eat, suddenly feeling hungrier than you have in days as the stress of it all begins to melt off your shoulders with this pleasant start to the day.

Tommy stands up to get seconds, and Maria takes the opportunity to start talking about the town, telling you more of Jackson’s history, all of the things the community here does to make life fun and peaceful again. Tommy joins in enthusiastically, and when you glance over at Joel with intrigued little stars in your eyes, he’s looking at you with that soft smile you can never quite read - is it pride? Care? Love? 

Whatever it is, it feels like true warmth, filling you up as you listen intently to Tommy and Maria and eat your breakfast next to the man you still love, despite it all. For the first time in your life, something about this situation feels so real, so much like a real family, that you start to believe that maybe things could stay this way forever. Why couldn’t it?

Your contented bubble of a fantasy quickly pops as Joel’s face goes more sullen when a lull sweeps over the group, squeezing your thigh to get you to look over his way. His words make your stomach drop, seeing the accompanying darkening of his features, the way he grits the words out like it’s the last thing he wants to say right now.

“Blossom, we have to talk.”

precious - a smother drabble

dark!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: JOEL POV. a look inside of joel's head as he gets to know you and realizes you're exactly what he wants. 1.5k words.

chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI! no conversations just joel's thots, allusions and brief descriptions of sexual acts/smut, thoughts of keeping reader captive/collars/leashes/ bondage, corruption kink, innocence kink, joel is generally thinking insanely and a menace what more can i really say

a/n: prefacing this by saying joel was kink shamed but i do not support kink shaming in any way shape or form! this just flew out of my sick little head and while i now have a new respect for smother joel's insanity and commitment, i also fear him more than i ever have adghsgf

Precious.

Precious.

Precious.

The air you breathe, that first puff of air he’d witnessed bursting forth into the cold air, leaving a tiny little cloud floating above your anxious, screwed up face. Then another, another gift for him to watch you take a breath, staccato little exhales that show how nervous you are at this first meeting, and he knows, he knows you’re scared. You look so helpless, so in need of him. He needs you, too.

You tremble, shaking like a leaf in the late February chill, a month he knows could never go forgotten now, the month that brought him you. You shake in seemingly unending spasms, not even knowing how scared you look, contrasting the wary front you try to put on. Oh, to touch you, to reach out and calm you, stroke your soft, pretty cheek and make it all okay, all the horrors he can tell you’ve seen, the life you’ve lived. 

Your precious little life now in Joel’s hands as his fingers graze the revolver on his hip, an old habit that never quite died hard enough - nobody has set foot on this property in years aside from himself, but still, he still can’t give it up. Protection. Protector. Your life in his hands. His fingers twitch away, an urge to go towards you, wrap you up and make sure you know how good he can be to you. But instead, he just invites you inside. 

Although he’d never actually give you a choice if it came down to it, he’s surprised when you say yes. The second you walk through the threshold with him, Joel knows there’s no going back. For either of you. 

You quickly turn into a problem, an obsession with every word you speak, every move you make. You make yourself small when you enter the room, your spirit seems so broken, so easy for him to pick up the tiny pieces you’re scattering all over his home. Gather them in his arms and mend them back together, only in a way that he likes, that pleases him.

Joel tries to keep himself calculated, finding it hard not to get emotional with the way you want to leave so badly, like it would be the worst thing in the world to stay here with him. You’re not a prisoner here, sweet girl. You’re not. And when you see it, you’ll know what’s best for you. A place where you’d have everything - all the love he could pour out, all the affection, the care built up inside his soul with nowhere to go, no outlet for him anymore. Years of pining, missing out on what he so craved to give to a woman like you. You’re lucky, he thinks every time he meets you eyes, that he’d gone easy on you, instead of the urge he fought every single day to lock you away and chain you to the god damned foundation of this cabin. That way, you were here. That way, you were his. But nothing so good could ever come so easily, Joel knew.

So he studies, he sees the cracks in your foundation, understands the weaknesses he must appeal to if he’s to have you. It’s effortless, though, not him having to pretend to be someone he’s not, act like he’ll give you things he doesn’t have. No, it’s all true, every word uttered from his lips for your sweet ears to hear, it’s all real, raw. After one sweet taste of you, that kiss at the kitchen table, your first kiss,  he’ll be damned if you think you have a choice here. Blood running hot, boiling inside of him, skin itching for contact with yours, to ruin every inch of you with him, to make himself such a part of you that every waking thought and reason for your little life is Joel. Daddy.

Nothing has ever compared, could ever compare to the way it felt to touch you, to feel inside of you, to have your pussy tightly wrapped around his cock. He’d been searching, searching, desperately searching, for so long for this, exactly this. Willing participants, women in the QZ, in Jackson, and everywhere he’d landed in between, nothing had ever quite scratched that itch the way he’d wanted, no matter how far he would attempt to go. He’d tried to replicate it over the years - the chains, the collar, and all of these pretty offerings just to be turned down, to be told he’s too much, that they were done as soon as the leather came out and the demands were made.

Sick fuck. Freak. I’m not calling you that, I’m not wearing that, I’m not doing that. I’m leaving. You’re messed up in the head, old man. Sick fuck. Sick fuck. Sick fuck. 

The words started to cut deeper every time he heard them, carving a place in his heart until it reached his very soul, only steeling his resolve, making that living part of him die a little more each time. Sick. Fuck. Eventually he started to believe those two words, too. So why not lean into it, if it were true?

Each time he pushed it a little further, saw if he could fulfill his deepest needs, the desires he’d craved since even before the Outbreak. Back then it was just more taboo, it seemed out of reach to approach a woman and ask for what he wanted, but the urge was there. Online searches of women tied up, women serving, obediently being fucked like they were just a toy and loving it. Watching women with collars and leashes and gags on, pretty eyes tearing up as they took cock in every hole made up his late nights after Sarah went to bed, his own cock in his hand as he imagined himself one day having what he so craved. It was his deepest secret, one nobody would have gotten out of him. But with the world gone to hell, people became more depraved, more like him, just not enough, not up to the task like he needed. Not that he’d found, at least. Sure, they all drooled around his cock on their knees with tied hands, a picture of subservience, let him fuck them hard and rough, dominate them with hands around their throats, but when it came down to it, they couldn’t be you. They couldn’t commit like he knew you could - they were too hard, too scorned by the world, not the gentle little lamb he’d been presented with. He’d all but given up, barely looked at another woman for months, maybe even over a year - he’d stopped keeping track - knowing it could only disappoint him, when you showed up.

You had such promise, the way the collar wraps around your neck like it was made for you, wide, wild eyes with that look on your face he loves so much, that curiosity. His baby loves to learn, to hear all about the nasty fucking things he can do to her, the ways she can and will be his. You’re itching to be taught all the things you’ve never been shown, and Joel is itching to show you. But you’d never show it, you shy little thing, just how depraved your own thoughts about him get. But he knows, he knows, he knows you already.

He knows you’re good. Not just in the sense that Joel wants you to be, but good, a light to the world. Obedient and with that saccharine little smile and voice dripping like honey when you moan out daddy for him as his cock fills you to the brim. A sweet spirit, too, so gentle and kind, unlike him, never like him. He’d bet you even had a hard time hunting, worrying about the feelings of those little rabbits and deer out in the woods, hating that you had to do it to survive.

Late at night he meditates on those little thoughts about you, about how you came to him full of such pure virtue, a good little girl if he ever saw one, sneering as he lays next to you still dripping his cum out of your fucked out cunt.  Just enough virtue taken, just enough left.

Joel knows that he doesn’t deserve you, the gift that the universe landed on his doorstep was never meant for someone like him. Someone so damaged, someone willing to do anything to keep you wrapped around his finger. A sick fuck like him. But maybe you craved him, too, just the way he craved you. Maybe… maybe… he’d really saved you from that life, from an unhappy marriage and expectations you’d never felt you could meet. From those fuckers who acted so high and mighty, like they aren’t preying on sweet, good girls just like you to get what they want.

And if Joel was too, at least he was fucking honest with himself about it. At least he wanted to give you a good life, protect you, worship you the way you deserved. 

He knew that he could never be enough for you. But he could surely make you believe that he was.