joelswhcre

[joelswhcre]

LOVE your vampire Joel piece, was wondering if you've seen bloodsucking bastards? Pedro playing a vampire with a definite power kink lmaooo

────۶ৎ red-handed

joel doesn’t just run the office—he owns it. and when you wander into his lair after hours, you learn the hard way what happens when you tempt a vampire with a power kink. he fucks, bites, and claims in the same breath.

warnings: smut, vampire!joel miller, power imbalance, office setting, rough sex, blood drinking, biting during orgasm, choking (light), dom!joel, begging, marking, possessiveness.

ᐟᐟ ⟢ a/n: i haven’t actually seen bloodsucking bastards but i did a bit of poking around (research, i swear) and i hope this is deliciously unholy and fitting to what you had in mind.

ᖭ༏ᖫ

you’re not supposed to be in his office this late.

but the door’s open, and the lights are low, and you’re weak. not because you’re scared—because of how he looks, sitting there behind that desk, tie loosened, eyes glowing like they’re dipped in blood and sin.

“you lost, sweetheart?” he asks, voice rough like gravel and velvet. doesn’t even look up from the folder in his hand. your thighs clench. “or you finally ready to let me taste you?”

and it’s not a question.

you step in, shut the door. the click echoes like a gunshot. his nostrils flare. you know he can smell you—your nerves, your want.

he’s in front of you in a blink, the air warping with his speed. one hand tilts your chin, the other trails down your front, slow, possessive. “gonna let me fuck you right here on this desk,” he murmurs, fangs brushing your skin. “let me fill that pretty cunt while you beg for my bite.”

your knees wobble. he catches you. grins. cocky bastard.

then he’s got you bent over the desk, cheek to cold wood, skirt rucked up. you hear the clink of his belt. feel the blunt tip of his cock drag through your slick.

��this what you wanted, baby?” a thick push, slow stretch—you gasp. “you like bein’ filled up by a monster?”

you moan, and he chuckles, mean and sweet. starts thrusting, hips snapping into you hard enough to make your breath stutter.

“gonna cum,” you gasp.

“not yet,” he growls.

his hand snakes around your front, thumb finding your clit, and you shatter like glass—but he doesn’t stop. keeps fucking you through it. “good girl. now take it. all of it.”

you feel him throb, hear the snarl in his throat. then warmth floods you, thick and hot, as he cums, cock buried deep. “mine,” he rasps, but still hasn’t bitten you.

you’re gasping, body still twitching, when he leans in close again. his breath hits your neck, cool and smelling like iron and musk.

“say it,” he murmurs, tongue tracing the skin just below your ear. “say what you want.”

you whimper, arching back into him. “bite me.”

“what was that?” he grinds into you, the tip still twitching inside, dragging against oversensitive walls. “use your words, sweetheart.”

“joel—please,” you choke. “want your fangs. want you to bite me when you—when you cum again—”

he growls. the sound goes straight to your cunt, and he pulls out only to flip you over, hoist you onto the desk like you weigh nothing.

“you want that?” he hisses, cock dragging along your soaked folds again. “you want me to fuck you and sink my teeth in at the same time?”

you nod, desperate. aching. “yes—yes—please, joel—”

he thrusts back in hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs. starts moving fast, brutal. his hand clamps around your throat, not tight, just enough.

“gonna cum with my cock deep in this pussy,” he growls. “and i’m gonna fucking mark you.”

you’re close again, everything pulsing and hot—and right when it hits—when your cunt clenches and your vision whites out—his mouth finds your neck.

bite.

pain and pleasure crash together, blinding. you scream, body writhing, milking his cock as he cums again, thick and endless and yours.

his fangs stay in as he drinks, slow and reverent. you’re shaking, spent and stained. but you’ve never felt more alive.

ᖭ༏ᖫ

thank you for reading. reblogs & feedback appreciated.

[joelswhcre]

so I absolutely LOVE your writing…could I have Joel with a virgin reader? 🥰

────۶ৎ just the tip

you tell joel you’ve never done it before. he takes it real slow… real deep.

warnings: smut, virgin!reader, fingering, praise + filthy talk, possessive!joel, mention of creampie, overstimulation, size kink, mild pain/pleasure, begging, pet names (baby, darlin’, good girl), no protection, soft dom vibes.

ᐟᐟ ⟢ a/n: thank you so much for the ask & the sweet words!! hope u enjoy it baby!!

ᖭ༏ᖫ

you tell him you’ve never done it before and his eyes darken. not in a scary way—nah. in a way that says he's gonna take his time.

“never?” he rasps, thumb stroking your cheek. “fuck, darlin’. you sure?”

you nod, biting your lip, already soaked just from his voice alone. the way he towers over you, all broad chest and rough hands, makes your tummy flip.

he kisses you slow first. hands cradling your jaw, thumbs brushing your cheeks like you’re somethin’ precious. he lays you back on the bed and undresses you one piece at a time, like he’s unwrappin’ a gift he’s been waitin’ for.

when he finally gets between your thighs, he spreads them open with gentle fingers. his gaze drops, and he lets out a low groan.

“fuckin’ perfect,” he mutters. “so wet already… she’s ready for me, ain’t she?”

you gasp when he drags his fingers through your slick, teasing your entrance with the tip of his thick middle finger. he doesn’t push in. not yet. just circles you, nice and slow, till you’re squirming under him.

“joel—please.”

“what, baby?” he smirks, lips brushing your ear. “need me to stretch this tight little cunt open for ya?”

you nod desperately. your thighs tremble as he finally slips one finger inside, careful and slow. then another. curling them, stretching you, watching your face twist with every sweet sting of pressure.

“s’okay,” he murmurs. “you’re doin’ so good. gonna take my cock so fuckin’ pretty.”

when he finally lines himself up, you feel him—the tip—hot and heavy against your entrance. he holds himself there, making sure you’re lookin’ at him, eyes locked on yours.

“breathe, baby.”

he pushes in slow, inch by inch, grunting low in his throat as your walls squeeze around him.

“jesus christ,” he pants. “so fuckin’ tight. this pussy’s never gonna let me go.”

you cry out—pain, yes, but also something else. the stretch, the fullness. the way he keeps kissing your neck, whisperin’ how good you are for him. and when he bottoms out?

“fuck,” he groans, hips flush against yours. “look at that. takin’ all of me like a good girl.”

he moves slow at first. deep, grinding strokes that have your eyes rollin’ back. your name’s on his lips like a prayer. and when you start clenching around him, trembling under him—

“you gonna cum for me, baby?”

you nod, sobbing, clinging to his shoulders. he growls, hips snapping harder now.

“cum on my cock,” he snarls. “let me feel that virgin pussy fuckin’ milk me.”

you shatter. all heat and white noise and slick between your thighs. he follows seconds later, thick ropes of cum spilling deep inside, stuffing you full.

he stays there a while. lets you feel all of it. kisses your shoulder. whispers, “gonna take care of you, sweet girl.”

ᖭ༏ᖫ

thank you for reading. reblogs & feedback appreciated.

[joelswhcre]

your writing is so incredibly scrumptious I loveeee!

if I may… thigh riding Joel? 🫣

────۶ৎ desperate little thing

joel’s got you riding his thigh, desperate and soaked, and he’s loving every second of it. you, on the other hand, are barely holding it together.

warnings: smut, thigh riding, dirty talk, overstimulation, teasing, pet names.

ᐟᐟ ⟢ a/n: scrumptious?! you’ve got me kicking my feet. i hope you enjoy this.

ᖭ༏ᖫ

joel’s got you right where he wants you—straddling his thigh, desperate and aching, your slick making a mess on his jeans. he’s leaning back, arms stretched over the back of the couch like he’s got all the time in the world, watching you grind down, your breath coming in soft, needy little pants.

‘that’s it, darlin’,’ he murmurs, voice thick with heat, ‘so fuckin’ needy. you gonna cum just from rubbin’ your little cunt on my thigh?’

your hands are gripping his shoulders, nails biting into him, but he doesn’t care. all he cares about is the way you’re losing yourself, chasing the friction like you’ve got no shame, dragging your soaked folds against the coarse denim, your clit catching just right with every roll of your hips.

‘joel,’ you whimper, voice high and breathless, ‘s’good… feels so good…’

his hands finally move, sliding up your waist, thumbs pressing into your ribs before they travel lower, fingertips teasing the band of your knickers. ‘reckon you can do better than that, sweetheart,’ he drawls, dragging his lips over your jaw, stubble scraping over your sensitive skin. ‘wanna hear you, wanna feel you soak me.’

your thighs are trembling, pace stuttering, and he can tell you’re right on the edge.

‘s’what you want, huh? want me to make a fuckin’ mess of you?’

one of his hands slides between your bodies, fingers pressing against your soaked folds, and he groans at the heat of you.

‘fuckin’ hell, you’re drippin’… all this just from ridin’ my thigh?’

you nod, unable to speak, and then he does it—slides two fingers through your slick, finds your clit, rubs slow, tight circles.

you sob his name, thighs squeezing, body locking up as pleasure crashes over you, your hips jerking erratically as you cum, soaking through your panties and all over his thigh.

joel groans, low and rough.

‘fuckin’ hell, baby,’ he mutters, pulling you down into a deep, filthy kiss, ‘next time, you’re gonna ride my cock instead.’

ᖭ༏ᖫ

thank you for reading. reblogs & feedback appreciated.

[joelswhcre]

────۶ৎ take it

joel fucks you rough, mean, like he’s got something to prove. like he wants to ruin you for anyone else. and you? you fucking love it.

warnings: smut, size kink, overstimulation, dirty talk, praise, breeding kink if you squint.

ᐟᐟ ⟢ a/n: listen. i have no excuses. joel miller is a menace and i am simply documenting it. don’t look at me.

more

ᖭ༏ᖫ

it’s fucked, the way he’s got you. bent over the mattress, face buried in the sheets, hips arched up because he told you to stay just like that. hasn’t touched you yet, not properly, just drags the tip of his cock through the mess between your thighs, watching you twitch every time he gets close.

“needy little thing, ain’t ya?” voice thick, lazy with want. his big hands push your hips down, hold you there when you try to roll back onto him. his chuckle is mean. “patience, sweetheart. i’ll give it to ya when i feel like it.”

you whine, fisting the sheets, and he clicks his tongue. one rough hand comes down on the small of your back, holding you still. the other slides up your spine, tangles in your hair, pulls your head back just enough so you can hear the gravel in his voice when he murmurs—

“that’s what you want, ain’t it? want me to ruin you?”

he sinks in slow, stretching you open inch by thick inch, and your mouth falls open. you think maybe you say his name, maybe you moan, but all you can focus on is the burn, the perfect fucking ache of him splitting you in half. he’s too big, too much, and he knows it.

“fuck,” he hisses, jaw clenched tight, pulling your hips back onto him. “tight little cunt—grippin’ me like you’re made for this.”

he fucks you rough. mean. sets a pace that’s got you gasping, barely able to keep yourself up on shaky arms. harder, deeper, like he’s trying to carve himself into your body, like he wants you wrecked for anyone else.

“this what you wanted, huh? needed me to fuck the sense outta you?” a sharp thrust, knocking the breath from your lungs. his hand twists in your hair, yanks your head back just to hear you sob for him.

“c’mon, sweetheart,” he growls, voice thick with something dark, something dangerous. he bends over you, chest flush to your back, breath hot against your ear.

“take it.”

his other hand slides under you, rough fingers finding your clit, and you jerk at the contact. but there’s nowhere to go—not when he’s pressed so fucking deep, not when he’s got you pinned, writhing, trapped between the heat of his body and the weight of his hand on your back.

“there we go,” he grits out, voice all low and wrecked. “feel that? feel how deep i am, baby? s’what you wanted, wasn’t it? needed me to fuck you stupid?”

your moan is high, shaky, and his fingers rub slow, teasing, not giving you enough. not yet.

“shit, listen to you. so fuckin’ gone for me.” his breath is hot against your ear, lips dragging down the side of your throat, teeth scraping—biting. his hips snap forward and he stays there, stuffed impossibly deep, grinding in slow, deep circles that have you clawing at the sheets.

“jesus, baby,” he rasps, voice all ragged and needy now, and fuck if that doesn’t make you even wetter. “gonna make me come so fuckin’ deep—fuck, you’ll still feel me tomorrow.”

his fingers press down harder, rubbing rough, fast, working you right to the edge—

“come for me, sweetheart,” he growls, fucking you through it when you do, when your whole body shakes under him.

“that’s it. good girl.”

ᖭ༏ᖫ

thank you for reading. reblogs & feedback appreciated.

[joelswhcre]

────۶ৎ where there’s smoke

you should’ve stayed away from joel miller the first time. but instead, you let him have you—once, then again, and again. you swore each time would be the last. but joel? he was never going to let you go that easily. and now, standing in a dark supply closet with his hands on your body and his cock buried deep inside you—whilst your boyfriend watches from the doorway—you’re finally realising what he meant when he said, "you’re mine."

warnings: smut, cheating, degradation, toxic.

ᐟᐟ ⟢ a/n: this is a work of fiction and not a moral guide to relationships. if cheating fics aren't your thing, that’s totally fine, just hit the back button and read something else.

ᖭ༏ᖫ

you last one week.

one week of pretending. one week of smiling at your boyfriend, of acting like your body isn’t still marked by someone else. one week of lying in bed next to him, staring at the ceiling, knowing exactly who you’re really thinking about.

but then—joel shows up.

it’s your boyfriend’s event. something formal, something important. you’re dressed up, playing the role of the doting girlfriend, standing at his side as he shakes hands and makes connections.

then you feel it.

eyes on you.

and when you glance across the room, your stomach drops.

joel is there.

he’s leaning against the bar, one hand wrapped around a glass of whiskey, the other tucked in his pocket. dark eyes, dark hair, a few strands of grey at his temples, looking at you like he already knows exactly how this night’s going to go.

your chest tightens. you shake your head, as if telling him don’t do this.

but he just raises a brow, takes a slow sip of his drink, and mouths:

“come here.”

your pulse spikes.

"i need the bathroom," you murmur to your boyfriend, forcing a smile, slipping away before he can question you.

but the second you step into the dimly lit hallway—joel is already there.

"you’re outta your damn mind," you hiss, gripping his arm, dragging him into a quiet corner.

he smirks, that lazy, cocky smirk that makes your stomach flip. "ain’t tellin’ me nothin’ i don’t already know, sweetheart."

"joel, my boyfriend is—"

"don’t care."

his fingers slip around your wrist, grip firm, pulling you closer.

"look at you," he murmurs, voice slow, deep, drawing out each word like he’s savouring them. "all dolled up for him. y’know what i’m thinkin’?"

you swallow hard. "what?"

he leans in, lips brushing against your ear.

"bet you’re still sore from last time."

heat floods your body.

"fuck you," you whisper.

"nah, darlin’," he chuckles, all low and rough, "you love fuckin’ me."

his fingers trail down your arm, slow, teasing. "c’mon, let’s go."

"joel, i can’t—"

"yeah, you can."

and maybe it’s the way he says it. maybe it’s the way his fingers ghost over your skin, the way his eyes burn into you, the way your entire body betrays you, craving him more than it should.

because you follow him.

again.

—

it’s a supply cupboard.

dark, small, barely enough space to breathe.

"you’re going to ruin everything," you whisper against his lips as he presses you against the shelves, his hands already sliding up your dress.

"good," he mutters, "wanna ruin you too."

his mouth crashes against yours, all hunger and frustration. his fingers push aside your panties, slipping between your folds, smirking when he feels how wet you are for him.

"knew it," he murmurs, dragging his fingers up and down, teasing. "knew you still wanted me."

"fuck you," you gasp, hips twitching.

"mm," he hums, "’bout to."

he’s unbuckling his belt, pulling his cock free, pressing the thick, heavy tip against your cunt.

"tell me to stop," he challenges, voice tight, teasing, but there’s something else underneath—something desperate.

you don’t.

so he fucks you.

it’s quick, messy, rushed. he grips your thigh, lifts you against him, buries himself deep in one hard thrust.

"joel—fuck—"

"shh," he hisses, hand clamping over your mouth, thrusts slow but deep, hitting that spot that makes your legs tremble.

your nails dig into his shoulders. your whole body is pressed against him, surrounded by him, his scent, his heat, the way he owns you in these moments.

"you think of me when he fucks you?" he taunts, voice a little strained, like the thought kills him.

you nod.

his grip tightens.

"say it."

"i think of you," you whisper, breathless, "every time."

his eyes darken.

"yeah?"

his thrusts get rougher, sharper, his fingers slipping between your legs, rubbing slow, deliberate circles against your clit.

"then cum for me," he orders. "cum for the man you really want."

you break.

your orgasm crashes through you, sharp and overwhelming, your walls squeezing around him, dragging him with you. he groans, burying his face against your throat, spilling inside you, hands shaking as he grips you tight, as if he doesn’t want to let go.

for a moment, there’s only silence.

then you hear it.

"what the fuck?"

your stomach drops.

your boyfriend is standing in the doorway.

frozen.

staring.

rage, disbelief, heartbreak—his expression shifts, his fists clenched, his whole body tense.

joel doesn’t move.

doesn’t pull out.

doesn’t let go.

instead, he smirks.

"ah," he murmurs, voice deep and slow. "shit."

ᖭ༏ᖫ

thank you for reading. reblogs & feedback appreciated.

[joelswhcre]

────۶ৎ dream scape

it’s just a dream—you’re sure of it. because there’s no way joel, your best friend’s dad, is actually between your legs, making you fall apart on his tongue. right?

warnings: smut, best friend’s dad!joel, age gap, oral (f!receiving), fingering, dirty talk, teasing, slight humiliation, slight somnophilia (consensual), praise + possessive joel, overstimulation, ellie’s asleep in the house but don’t worry abt it x

more

ᖭ༏ᖫ

you’re half-asleep when you feel it, the slow drag of something wet and warm between your thighs. it’s lazy, deliberate, like whoever it is knows exactly how to pull the sweetest noises from you. you hum, shifting slightly, but your body feels heavy, weighed down by the delicious pleasure curling in your belly.

it’s a dream. it has to be.

because it’s joel.

ellie’s dad.

the man you’ve been secretly, shamefully wanting for years.

you can hear the low groan he lets out against your skin, can feel the scratch of his beard as his tongue flicks against your clit. it’s obscene, the way he’s sucking you into his mouth, like he’s starving, like he needs you to survive.

your fingers curl in his hair, dragging, tugging. he grunts, hands tightening around your thighs as he presses them open wider.

‘fuck, baby, that’s it—keep makin’ those pretty little noises for me.’

his voice—god, it’s deep, rough, dripping with something possessive, something desperate. you shudder, back arching off the bed as he pushes his tongue inside you.

‘jesus, joel—’

his fingers dig into your thighs, pressing bruises into your soft skin. ‘ain’t jesus, sweetheart.’

he licks up through your folds, catching your clit between his lips again, and you swear you see white. the pleasure rolls through you like a wave, crashing, wrecking, leaving you gasping.

‘thought you were dreamin’, huh?’ his voice is thick with amusement, with lust.

your eyes flutter open, barely able to focus in the dark, but you can just make out the broad silhouette of him between your legs, the way his shoulders tense, the way his head tilts.

he’s real.

joel miller is between your legs, eating you out like a man possessed, like he’s been wanting to do this for a long fucking time.

and you—fuck, you let him.

‘should’ve known better, baby.’ his voice is low, teasing, but there’s something dangerous about it, something that makes your stomach tighten. ‘been sneakin’ looks at me for too long. wearin’ those little shorts round the house—makin’ it so fuckin’ hard to be good.’

your breath catches.

‘ellie could’ve seen—’

‘ellie’s sleepin’,’ he murmurs, dragging his tongue up your slit, groaning at the taste of you. ‘but you like that, don’t you? sneakin’ around like this—spreadin’ your legs for your best friend’s old man.’

your face burns, shame curling in your gut, but it only makes you wetter, makes your hips buck up against his mouth.

he slides a finger inside you, thick and slow, stretching you out in a way that makes your breath hitch.

‘so fuckin’ wet for me,’ he mutters, pumping in and out, curling just right. ‘knew you’d feel like this, darlin’.’

you’re whining now, hips rolling against his mouth as he adds another finger, fucking into you with slow, steady strokes.

‘gonna make you come on my tongue, baby. wanna taste you—wanna feel you.’

you’re nodding, begging, lost in the haze of it all. his tongue flicks against your clit again, relentless, filthy, and that’s all it takes for you to shatter. your thighs tremble, your body shakes, and all you can do is cry out his name, over and over again, like a prayer.

he doesn’t stop. not even when you’re shuddering through the aftershocks, not even when your legs twitch from the overstimulation.

joel miller is greedy.

he wants all of you.

‘can feel you drippin’, baby—’ he lifts his head slightly, his voice wrecked, soaked in hunger. ‘bet you can take my cock now, yeah?’

your breath stutters.

‘joel—’

he slides up your body, pressing his mouth to yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. his fingers stroke through the mess between your legs, slow and teasing.

‘tell me you want it, baby.’ his cock is heavy against your stomach, hot and thick, leaking at the tip.

you whimper, arching into him. ‘please—’

he grins. ‘that’s my good fuckin’ girl.’

ᖭ༏ᖫ

thank you for reading. reblogs & feedback appreciated.

[joelswhcre]

────۶ৎ extra credit

professor miller always said you were his best student—so why not prove it?

warnings: smut, professor/student, oral (m!receiving), dirty talk, praise, slight degradation, age gap.

ᐟᐟ ⟢ a/n: i saw the pic of pedro in f4 and my brain short-circuited. enjoy professor miller in his full, devastating glory.

more

ᖭ༏ᖫ

you knew you shouldn’t be here.

his office door was closed, the soft glow of his desk lamp casting long, lazy shadows against the wall, illuminating stacks of ungraded papers, half-filled coffee cups, and books worn at the spine. professor miller sat there, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, eyes flicking over the words in front of him like he wasn’t already aware of the way you lingered in the doorway.

he didn’t look up immediately, just hummed low in his throat.

‘somethin’ you need, sweetheart?’

your stomach clenched.

‘was just wonderin’ if you had a minute to talk,’ you murmured, stepping in, deliberately closing the door behind you.

that got his attention. his dark eyes dragged from the paper to you, slow and deliberate. his gaze made heat crawl across your skin, made you hyper-aware of every inch of your own body, of the way your thighs pressed together beneath your skirt, the way your breath hitched when he finally leaned back in his chair.

‘talkin’s free,’ he said, tilting his head slightly. ‘but i got a feelin’ that ain’t all you want.’

you swallowed, fingers curling into the fabric of your skirt.

‘you said it yourself, professor. i’m your best student,’ you said, voice barely above a whisper. ‘don’t you think i deserve a little extra credit?’

his lips parted, exhaling slow through his nose. his fingers tapped against the armrest of his chair, deliberate, considering.

then he shifted, legs spreading just a little wider, the bulge at the front of his trousers already telling you he was just as affected by this as you were.

‘c’mere,’ he said, voice rougher now. ‘let’s see if you can really earn that grade, darlin’.’

you moved before he could change his mind, settling yourself between his legs, nails tracing up his thighs, eyes locked onto his as you palmed the thick ridge of his cock through his slacks.

‘that’s it,’ he murmured, fingers brushing through your hair as you unbuckled his belt, popped the button, pulled the zipper down, freeing his cock from the confines of his boxers. he was hot, heavy in your hand, the tip already slick with pre-cum.

‘been wantin’ this for a while, haven’t you, sweetheart?’

you flicked your gaze up, tongue slipping out to circle his tip, tasting salt, feeling the twitch of his cock against your lips. ‘you’ve got no idea.’

his breath came out sharp, fingers tightening in your hair as he guided you down, down, letting you take him deeper, groaning when your throat fluttered around him.

‘fuck, baby. such a good girl, takin’ your professor’s cock like this.’

heat pooled low in your stomach, thighs pressing together as you hollowed your cheeks, eager to hear him break apart under your touch.

and oh, you’d make him fall apart.

one way or another.

his thighs tensed beneath your palms, a shudder running through him as you swallowed him deeper, tongue dragging along the thick vein at the underside of his cock. his fingers curled tighter in your hair, a sharp tug making your scalp prickle, his groan vibrating through the air, dark and wrecked.

‘shit, sweetheart, you tryna kill me?’

his hips jerked, the tip of his cock nudging the back of your throat, and you moaned around him, fingers pressing into the muscle of his thighs as you let him take control, let him use you the way you knew he wanted to. his breathing grew uneven, heavy exhales mingling with the wet sounds echoing in the office, filthy and desperate.

‘so fuckin’ pretty like this,’ he murmured, voice strained. ‘mouth stretched around my cock, takin’ it so well. knew you’d be a good girl for me.’

you felt the warmth of praise flood through you, making your own arousal throb between your thighs. you shifted slightly, rubbing them together for friction, whimpering as his grip tightened, forcing you to stay focused, to keep sucking him down like it was the only thing you were meant to do.

‘look at you,’ he gritted out. ‘so eager. fuckin’ made for this, huh?’

you hummed in agreement, the vibration making him curse under his breath. his free hand found your cheek, thumb swiping at the tear that had slipped free as he nudged in deeper, making you choke, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation of him filling your mouth so completely.

‘m’gonna cum,’ he warned, voice ragged. ‘you gonna take it for me, baby? swallow every fuckin’ drop?’

you moaned your agreement, hollowing your cheeks one last time, sucking him hard, desperate for the taste of him. his hips stuttered, breath catching, and then he was spilling down your throat, his groan breaking into a rasped-out ‘fuck’ as he held you there, making sure you took it all.

you swallowed greedily, tongue flicking over his sensitive tip as you pulled back, watching the way his chest rose and fell, the way his dark eyes burned into yours, still half-lidded, still hungry.

‘good girl,’ he murmured, voice hoarse, fingers brushing your swollen lips. ‘think you just earned yourself an A.’

but oh, you weren’t done yet.

not even close.

ᖭ༏ᖫ

thank you for reading. reblogs & feedback appreciated.

[joelswhcre]

°˖➴ rules

requests: opened for drabbles only

i. i appreciate every single one of you who takes the time to interact with my writing. reblogs, comments, and feedback genuinely make my day. knowing that someone enjoyed what i wrote means more than i can put into words, so never hesitate to share your thoughts

ii. when sending an ask, please be kind. i’m just a person writing for fun. please don’t send demands or spam me. a little kindness goes a long way

iii. i write for any tlou characters. i also have a harry potter blog where i write for hp characters! feel free to check that out if you're into it

topics i won’t write about:

anything involving minors in inappropriate situations, incest, (stepcest is fine), self-harm, eating disorders, or suicide. pet play. no specifics that exclude readers. anything that makes me uncomfortable

if it’s not on this list, feel free to ask! i’m pretty open and will consider most things

you’re always welcome to send asks outside of requests! i love talking and sharing thoughts, just keep the space kind and respectful. at the end of the day, this is meant to be fun. let’s keep it that way <3

[joelswhcre]

────۶ৎ hunger

you wake to the weight of joel miller between your thighs, hungry and aching to claim you. he’s been patient, but now? now he’s going to take.

warnings: smut, vampire!joel, bloodplay/feeding, fangs sunk deep while he fucks you senseless, pain/pleasure, overstimulation, cockwarming after he’s wrecked you, praise & degradation, possessive/obsessive joel, breeding kink undertones, dirty talk.

more

ᖭ༏ᖫ

you wake to pressure.

heavy, solid, sinking into you like you’re already his.

joel.

he’s draped over you, broad and immovable, one thick thigh slotted between yours, pressing firm against the soaked heat of your panties. his weight pins you to the mattress, the warmth of him at odds with the unnatural chill of his skin.

you don’t move—can’t move—his arms wrapped tight around your waist, his face buried in your neck.

and he’s breathing you in.

“knew it,” he murmurs against your skin, voice thick with hunger, with something darker. his lips brush over your pulse, and you shudder, heat pooling deep in your belly.

“knew you’d smell this sweet.”

you whimper when he grinds against you, slow and teasing, dragging the hard, thick press of his cock over your cunt.

“been watchin’ you, darlin” he sighs, nipping at your throat, not biting—not yet.

his fingers ghost under the hem of your nightshirt, slow, deliberate, thumbs pressing into your waist.

“could hear that pretty little heartbeat even when you were sleepin’.”

his voice is so deep, dripping with want, laced with something that feels like possession.

you let out a shaky breath. “joel—”

“shhh,” he soothes, palm sliding over your stomach, fingers tracing the soft curve of your hip. his other hand finds your throat, tilting your head to the side, baring it for him.

“let me have you, baby.”

and then he’s sinking his fangs in.

pain bursts, sharp and blinding, but the way he moans against your skin makes you clench, makes your pussy ache.

he drinks, slow and deep, savoring, and you feel it everywhere—in your veins, in your core, pooling in the slick heat between your thighs.

his hand drifts lower, slipping beneath your panties, fingers sliding through the mess he’s made of you.

“fuck, baby,” he groans against your throat, lapping at the bite, his fingers pressing into your soaking cunt.

he shoves your panties down, kicks his sweats off, the heavy weight of his cock pressing hot against your dripping slit.

“gonna fill you up,” he rasps, voice wrecked, desperate. “make you mine.”

he presses in, the thick, aching stretch punching the air from your lungs.

you’re so full, so stuffed, the brutal drag of his cock pulling a sob from your throat.

“look at that,” he pants, pulling back just enough to watch himself sink in again, your cunt stretching, taking all of him.

“made for me, baby. made to be fucked like this.”

he’s deep, his body flush against yours, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with every harsh, hungry thrust.

his tongue drags over the open wound at your throat, lapping at his claim.

his hips slam into yours, pace relentless, dragging a wrecked, broken moan from your lips.

“shhh, baby,” he soothes, even as he fucks you harder, deeper. “know it’s too much. know you can take it.”

you’re shaking, sobbing, pleasure so sharp it feels like pain, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer.

his hand finds your clit, rubbing tight, lazy circles, just enough to make your thighs shake, to push you over the edge.

you cum with a cry, walls fluttering, squeezing him tight, and he groans, thrusts jerky, erratic—

“that’s it, baby, take it—take all of it.”

he buries himself deep, spilling inside you, hips grinding slow, making sure you feel it.

his weight presses you down, his cock still hard, still twitching, keeping you full.

he licks at your throat, lips brushing over the bite mark, soothing, worshipping.

and then he stays there, cock warming inside you, keeping you plugged up, his.

“shhh, doll,” he murmurs, voice like syrup, thick with satisfaction. “you ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

ᖭ༏ᖫ

thank you for reading. reblogs & feedback appreciated.

[joelswhcre]

────۶ৎ shaping you

joel miller teaches you pottery, but his hands are more interested in molding you than the clay. slow, teasing, and messy in all the best ways.

warnings: smut, fingering, dirty talk, teasing, body worship.

more

ᖭ༏ᖫ

you never expected to be here, like this, with him.

joel miller, broad, rugged, warm. sat behind you at the pottery wheel, his chest pressed against your back, arms bracketing yours as he guides your hands through the soft, wet clay. his breath is warm against your neck, and every little shift of his fingers sends a shiver down your spine.

"relax, darlin'," he murmurs, his voice all gravel and honey, thick with something deeper. "feels better when you let it happen."

he means the clay, but it doesn’t feel like that’s all he means. not when his fingers slide over yours, slow, teasing, pressing just right. not when his legs spread just a little wider, bracing you between them. not when the heat of him seeps into your skin, into your bones, into that place between your thighs that's aching for more.

his hands leave yours and you’re about to protest, but then they’re on your hips, squeezing, dragging you further into him. you can feel him now, thick and hard, pressed right against your ass, and fuck—you let out a soft, breathy whimper, fingers clenching in the slick mess of clay.

"joel—"

his name’s barely past your lips before he’s got one hand slipping beneath your shirt, rough fingers skimming over your belly, up to your chest, rolling a nipple between his fingers. the other hand? lower. dragging over your stomach, dipping past the waistband of your leggings. he groans when he feels how wet you are, thick fingers sliding through your slick folds, teasing at your clit, before pushing in, just enough to make you whine.

"knew you’d be drippin’ for me, sweetheart," he mutters, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the side of your neck, his teeth scraping over sensitive skin. "sit still. lemme take care of you."

his fingers are slow, deliberate, fucking into you as he works your clit, all while you’re still sat at the wheel, still feeling the clay cool and wet beneath your hands. the contrast is dizzying—the heat of him, the chill of the pottery, the way his voice sounds in your ear, low and hungry, talking you through it.

"that’s it, just like that. takin’ me so good, baby."

your head falls back against his shoulder, and he takes the opportunity to kiss you, tongue slipping into your mouth as his fingers curl just right, pressing into that spot that makes your whole body tighten. you moan against his lips, hips rocking into his touch, chasing that feeling, that sharp, electric pleasure building deep in your belly.

"cum for me, darlin'," he urges, voice rough, needy. "wanna feel you."

and you do. your body tenses, thighs trembling as pleasure crashes through you, spilling over his fingers, soaking his hand. he groans, pulling you tighter against him, holding you through it, whispering praises into your skin.

when you come back to yourself, breathless and boneless in his arms, he chuckles, pressing one last kiss to your temple.

"think you’re ready to shape some clay now?"

but you can feel him, still hard, still pressing against you, and you know damn well this isn't over yet.

not even close.

ᖭ༏ᖫ

thank you for reading. reblogs & feedback appreciated.

[joelswhcre]

────۶ৎ keeps you up all night

joel wakes up hard, again. and there’s no way he’s letting you sleep through it.

warnings: smut, cnc, somnophilia, rough sex, overstimulation, choking, breeding kink, praise & degradation, dirty talk.

more

ᖭ༏ᖫ

joel doesn’t let you sleep for long.

maybe an hour. maybe two.

just long enough for his cock to get hard again, already twitching against your ass before his brain even catches up. it’s instinct, now—his body waking up just from the feel of you against him, his cock already aching for another taste of your pussy, already desperate to fill you up all over again.

you’re still out, soft little breaths puffing against the pillow, your body warm and relaxed in his arms.

but your thighs are sticky, his cum still dripping from where he fucked it deep inside you not too long ago.

he groans softly, hand smoothing over your stomach, down to your hip, pulling you just a little closer, just enough for his cock to nestle right between your thighs, pressing up against your slick folds.

you let out a sleepy little sigh, shifting in his arms, and his grip tightens.

fuck, he can’t wait.

he fists his cock, rubbing the leaking tip through your folds, smearing the mess of his cum and your slick all over your cunt. he groans at the feel of it, at how fucking wet you still are for him.

he lines himself up and thrusts, pushing inside in one long, deep stroke, stretching you open all over again.

you whimper, your body stiffening as you’re jolted from sleep, your breath hitching in your throat.

“shh, baby,” joel rasps against your ear, his voice thick with sleep and lust. “just me, sweetheart. just need you again.”

you let out a soft little moan, your body relaxing, melting back against him, letting him take what he needs.

he groans, snapping his hips forward, slamming into you, deeper and rougher than before.

he’s not going slow this time.

no more teasing, no more lazy thrusts.

just fucking.

deep, hard, desperate.

his cock hits that sweet, sensitive spot inside you with every brutal thrust, making you whimper and squirm, your thighs trembling as he ruins you all over again.

“fuck—joel,” you gasp, fingers curling into the sheets, clinging onto anything as he pounds into you.

“jesus, baby,” he groans, his arm wrapping tight around your middle, holding you in place as he fucks you deeper, harder, filling you up over and over. “you feel so fuckin’ good—so fucking tight, baby—jesus christ—”

his breath is hot against your neck, rough and ragged as he fucks into you, each thrust driving his cock so deep you can feel him in your stomach. the lewd, wet sounds of your slick cunt taking him over and over mix with the steady rhythm of the rain outside, drowning out everything else.

he grips your hip, yanking you back against him, making sure you feel every thick inch, making sure you know exactly how fucking deep he is. his other hand slides up, pressing against your throat, just enough to tilt your head back, just enough to make you gasp.

“this what you wanted, huh?” he rasps against your ear, his voice wrecked, fucked-out. his fingers tighten just slightly, just enough to make your pulse jump beneath his grip. “wanted me to wake you up like this? take this sweet little pussy while you’re still all sleepy and soft for me?”

you whimper, your thighs trembling, your body already teetering on the edge, pleasure winding so tight it hurts.

“fuck, baby—” he groans, snapping his hips harder, chasing his own high, dragging you right to the edge with him. “gonna make you come, sweetheart. gonna make you squeeze my cock so fuckin’ tight—gonna fill you up again, yeah?”

his fingers slip down between your thighs, rubbing tight, desperate circles over your clit, and you snap, your whole body tensing as pleasure crashes over you in waves.

your pussy clamps down so tight he growls, hips stuttering, his cock throbbing deep inside you.

“fuck—fuck—” his breath shudders, and then he’s spilling inside you, hot and thick, his cum flooding your pussy, dripping down your thighs as he keeps grinding into you, making sure you take every drop.

his forehead drops against the back of your neck, his breath hot against your skin, his fingers splaying over your belly, holding you close.

you’re trembling, still dazed, still breathless, and he smirks, pressing a lazy kiss against your shoulder.

“you ain’t done, sweetheart,” he murmurs, rolling his hips slow and deep, still so fucking hard inside you. “you can take it, can’t you?”

his teeth scrape against your skin, his grip tightening.

“gonna fuck you all night, baby.”

ᖭ༏ᖫ

[joelswhcre]

────۶ৎ class dismissed

tommy’s camp set up combat training for young adults, and joel miller got stuck teaching it. you, with your bratty attitude and reckless mouth, decided to push him too far. now, you’re gonna learn a lesson.

warnings: smut, age gap (reader is 18+), teacher/student, spanking, choking, size kink, breeding kink, dirty talk, degradation, praise, overstimulation.

more

ᖭ༏ᖫ

tommy’s camp had rules.

one of them? never fuck with joel miller.

he was brutal, sharp-edged, a man who had lived long enough to carve his own way into the world and leave bodies in his wake. so when they set up training classes for young adults—how to handle a knife, how to fire a gun—he was the first name on the list.

and when you walked into his class, all big eyes and soft skin and a mouth that didn’t know when to quit, he knew he was fucked.

but he had discipline.

he ignored the way you looked at him, like you wanted something you shouldn’t. he kept his hands to himself when you pressed too close, when your fingers lingered on his forearm as he adjusted your grip on a gun.

he ignored it all—until he couldn’t.

until you pushed him too far.

—

"you’re not takin’ this seriously," joel muttered, arms crossed as he watched you struggle with your knife stance.

you huffed, rolling your eyes. "it’s just a knife, miller. not that hard."

he exhaled through his nose. if there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was attitude. especially from you.

"come here," he ordered.

you obeyed, stepping closer, holding out the knife.

joel grabbed your wrist, flipping it with ease, and suddenly, the blade was against your throat, the sharp edge kissing your skin.

your breath hitched.

"not that hard, huh?" his voice was low, gritted. he pressed just enough for you to feel it, for you to understand how easily he could cut you.

your pupils blew wide. you swallowed, throat bobbing against the blade.

"careful," joel murmured.

your tongue darted out, wetting your lips. he followed the motion, jaw flexing.

"you gonna teach me or what?" you whispered.

joel knew that tone. knew exactly what you were doing. pushing him. testing him.

"fuckin’ brat," he muttered, letting you go.

you stumbled back, gripping the knife tight.

"again," he ordered, stepping behind you, his chest pressed firm against your back.

his breath was hot against your ear. his hands—big, warm—rested on your hips, pressing you into place.

"hold it like this," he murmured, fingers wrapping over yours, tightening your grip.

you exhaled, your body sinking against him.

"good girl."

it escalated quickly after that.

stolen glances in class. accidental touches that weren’t accidental at all.

until you showed up at his cabin one night, wet from the rain, looking at him like he was the only thing you needed.

he let you in.

"you know this is wrong," joel said, voice rough as you straddled his lap.

"don’t care," you whispered.

he groaned when you rolled your hips, feeling just how much bigger he was, how much stronger.

"’course you don’t," he muttered, gripping your waist.

his fingers dug into your skin, bruising, claiming.

"fuckin’ spoiled," he murmured, dragging his mouth along your neck, nipping at the skin until you whimpered. "needy little thing."

you gasped when he lifted you effortlessly, pressing you into the bed.

"gonna take what i give you, yeah?" he rasped, his weight heavy over you.

"yeah," you breathed, fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him closer.

"gonna let me fuck you proper?"

"please."

his eyes darkened.

"that’s my girl."

he took his time, teasing, dragging his fingers through your slick folds, groaning when he felt how wet you were.

"fuck," he muttered, spreading you open. "s’ all for me?"

"yes, joel—"

"you call me sir when i’m between your legs," he ordered. his hands made quick work of his belt, shoving both his trousers and boxers down just enough to free his cock.

you whimpered. "yes, sir."

he smirked, pressing his cock against your cunt, letting you feel just how thick he was.

"gonna stretch you good," he murmured, pushing in slow.

you gasped, body arching as he filled you, the stretch just shy of too much.

"fuckin’ tight," he groaned, gripping your hips, forcing himself deeper.

"so big," you whimpered, nails dragging down his arms.

he exhaled sharply, rolling his hips, letting you feel every inch.

"yeah," he muttered. "and you’re takin’ it like a good fuckin’ girl."

his hand wrapped around your throat, pressing just enough to make your breath hitch.

"this what you wanted?" he murmured, eyes locked onto yours.

"yes, sir," you gasped.

"gonna fill you up," he muttered, pace picking up, fucking into you hard, deep, every thrust knocking the air from your lungs.

"gonna breed this pretty little cunt," he rasped, his grip tightening.

your body trembled, pleasure curling deep in your stomach.

"please," you whimpered, legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper.

"fuck," joel growled, his pace turning desperate, brutal, his hips slamming into yours.

"gonna make you mine," he muttered. "gonna fuckin’ own you."

and when you came, legs shaking, body clenching around him, he followed right after, burying himself to the hilt, spilling into you with a deep, guttural groan.

he stayed there, breathing heavy, pressing a rough kiss to your jaw.

"you keep pushin’ me, sweetheart," he murmured. "see what happens next time."

and you did.

you kept pushing him.

the next day in class, you acted like nothing happened. like joel miller hadn’t spent the night fucking you into his mattress, his hands wrapped around your throat, his cum dripping down your thighs.

but joel wasn’t stupid.

he saw the way you shifted in your seat, the way your legs pressed together when he walked past, the way you bit your lip when he barked orders at the class.

he saw everything.

"today, we’re practicin’ close-quarters combat," he announced, arms crossed, eyes sweeping the room.

then—

"you."

your head snapped up.

joel motioned you forward.

"since you think you got this all figured out, why don’t you show everyone what you learned?"

you swallowed, heat curling in your stomach at his tone—low, firm, full of unspoken warning.

"yes, sir," you murmured.

a muscle in his jaw twitched.

you knew what you were doing.

he moved first, grabbing your wrist, twisting it with ease, spinning you until your back hit his chest.

his breath was hot against your ear.

"y’think i won’t put you on your knees in front of everyone?" he muttered, low enough that only you could hear.

your breath hitched.

"you wouldn’t."

his grip tightened.

"try me."

later. his cabin.

"you think that was funny?" joel growled, pushing you back against the table.

you smirked. "maybe."

his eyes darkened.

"gonna have to teach you some fuckin’ respect," he muttered, grabbing your waist, flipping you onto your stomach.

you barely had time to brace yourself before his palm came down, sharp and stinging, right against the curve of your ass.

you gasped, body jolting forward from the impact, your fingers curling against the wood.

"count," he ordered, voice low, rough.

"one," you breathed.

another slap. harder.

"two."

his other hand slid up your back, pressing you down, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

"you keep testin’ me," he muttered, kneeling behind you, his mouth hot against the back of your thigh.

his teeth grazed the skin, soothing the sting with his tongue.

"gonna fuckin’ ruin you."

his fingers slid between your thighs, teasing, barely pressing where you needed him most.

"so fuckin’ wet," he muttered, his breath hot against your skin.

you whimpered. "joel—"

his hand came down again, another sharp slap that had your body jolting.

"what’d i tell you?"

"yes, sir," you corrected, voice shaking.

"that’s my girl," he murmured, fingers slipping inside you, slow, deep.

your breath hitched, legs trembling as he fucked you with them, his other hand kneading the soft flesh of your ass.

"gonna take me like this?" he rasped, his cock pressing against you, thick and hard.

"yes, sir," you whimpered, pushing back against him.

he groaned, dragging the head of his cock through your slick folds before pressing in, stretching you open inch by inch.

"jesus," he muttered, gripping your hips, holding you still as he buried himself to the hilt.

you whimpered at the stretch, body clenching around him.

"fuck," joel gritted, pulling back before slamming in again, deep and deliberate.

his pace was slow at first, making you feel every inch, every pulse.

"so fuckin’ tight," he rasped, fingers digging into your hips.

"more," you gasped, body aching for him, needing more.

"greedy fuckin’ girl," he muttered, but he gave it to you.

his thrusts turned rough, hard, every snap of his hips sending a shockwave through your body.

one of his hands tangled in your hair, yanking your head back, his lips brushing your ear.

"gonna fuckin’ fill you up," he growled, his other hand slipping between your legs, rubbing tight circles against your clit.

your legs trembled. pleasure coiled deep in your stomach, white-hot, sharp, consuming.

"c’mon, sweetheart," joel murmured, voice thick. "give it to me."

your body clenched around him, and he groaned, his thrusts turning frantic, sloppy, chasing his own high.

"fuck, baby—"

he shuddered, burying himself deep, spilling into you with a deep, guttural groan.

he stayed there, breathing heavy, pressing kisses along your shoulder, his hands smoothing over your thighs, your waist, your sore ass.

"gonna behave now?" he murmured, voice smug.

you smirked, glancing back at him.

"probably not."

joel exhaled a laugh, shaking his head.

"brat," he muttered, pressing one last kiss to the back of your neck.

joel didn't move right away. his body was heavy against yours, breath still ragged, fingers still splayed over the bruises he'd left on your hips.

he pressed one last kiss to your shoulder before pulling back, watching the way his cum dripped from your sore, swollen cunt.

"fuckin’ messy," he muttered, dragging his fingers through it, pushing it back inside you.

your whole body trembled.

"too much?" he murmured, voice quieter now, rough at the edges.

"no," you whispered, half delirious. "not enough."

joel groaned, running a hand down his face.

"you’re gonna kill me, sweetheart," he muttered.

he pulled you up against his chest, holding you there, big, warm hands soothing over your skin.

"but if you keep actin’ up in my class," he murmured, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear, "i’ll make sure everyone knows exactly who you fuckin’ belong to."

ᖭ༏ᖫ

thank you for reading. reblogs & feedback appreciated.

[joelswhcre]

────۶ৎ all his

your dad’s best friend has always been too much—too big, too strong, too fucking tempting. you push him, he breaks, and now? now he’s making sure you know exactly who you belong to.

warnings: smut, age gap, dbf!joel, brat!reader, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, size kink, oral (f receiving), tommy’s camp vibes. you know what you're getting into.

more

ᖭ༏ᖫ

joel shouldn’t be doing this. shouldn’t have his fingers hooked inside you, shouldn’t have his mouth right there, shouldn’t be looking up at you like that, like he’s got every fucking right to be here.

but he is. and he does. because you let him. because you’re a stupid little thing who doesn’t listen, who keeps pushing at the boundaries of what’s right and what’s fucking not.

‘this what you wanted, baby?’ he asks, low and rough, fingers crooking just right inside you, hitting that spot that has your head falling back against the wall of his cabin. ‘this why you’ve been lookin’ at me like that? runnin’ that mouth, actin’ like a little brat just beggin’ to be put in her place?’

you nod, barely, moaning as his tongue licks up over your clit, his stubble scraping against the sensitive skin of your thighs. he’s got you spread out on his bed, one of his big hands pressing your hips down so you can’t fucking move, can’t chase or run from the slow, steady flicks of his tongue. he’s mean with it. purposeful. gets you right to the edge and then pulls back, fingers still deep inside, stretching you out, keeping you open.

‘answer me,’ he mutters against you, and when you don’t—when you’re too busy whimpering and rocking your hips up, trying to get him to keep going—he pulls away completely. takes his fingers out too.

‘joel, please,’ you whine, voice high and needy. you don't care how desperate you sound. you are desperate. ‘fuck, just—just put it in already.’

he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head as he stands over you, unbuckling his belt.

‘greedy little thing,’ he mutters, watching the way you bite your lip when he pulls his cock out, thick and flushed, tip already leaking. ‘that’s all you want, huh? for me to fuck this little cunt like you don’t know any better?’

‘yes,’ you say, spreading your legs wider, giving him all the invitation he needs.

he doesn’t waste time. doesn’t make you beg for it, doesn’t tease anymore. he just grabs your thighs, holds you open, and presses the tip right up against you, pushing in slow. too slow.

‘jesus,’ he mutters, hissing through his teeth as he sinks in. ‘so fuckin’ tight. you sure you can take all of me, sweetheart?’

he’s mocking you, really. teasing. because he knows you can. knows you will. but it doesn’t stop him from being a dick about it, from making you work for it, from making you squirm and whimper as he stretches you open, inch by inch, until he’s all the way in, hips flush against yours.

‘look at that,’ he murmurs, one hand pressing down on your lower belly, right over where he’s buried deep inside you. ‘fuckin’ made for me, huh?’

you nod frantically, whining as he rocks his hips, setting a brutal, deep rhythm, like he’s trying to fuck himself into your bones.

‘gonna keep this little cunt full, yeah?’ he grits out, hands gripping your thighs tighter, keeping you in place while he fucks you just how he knows you need. ‘gonna let me ruin you for anyone else?’

‘fuck, joel, yes—’ you sob, hands gripping at his arms, his waist, anything you can reach.

he groans, hips stuttering, eyes fixed on where you're stretched wide around him.

‘that’s my girl,’ he mutters, leaning down, pressing his lips to your jaw, your neck, biting just enough to make you whimper. ‘fuckin’ mine.’

ᖭ༏ᖫ

dad’s best friend was never meant to touch you. now he’s making sure no one else ever will.

thank you for reading. reblogs & feedback appreciated. if you’d like to be tagged in future posts, let me know!

[joelswhcre]

────۶ৎ bite the hand

joel doesn’t ask, he just takes—rough and desperate, making you beg for it against the cold door.

warnings: smut, toxic-ish? hair pulling, fingering.

more

ᖭ༏ᖫ

joel doesn’t say a damn word when he shoves you up against the cabin door.

not slow, not sweet—just rough hands pushing under your shirt, the wood at your back cold, his breath warm against your neck. it’s always like this between you: fast, desperate, like neither of you have any goddamn sense.

you don’t know what the fuck this is—just that joel finds you when he’s wound too tight, when the world has been too cruel, and takes it out on you. and you let him. beg for it, even.

his fingers dig into your hips as he ruts against you, half-hard in his jeans, and you gasp against his mouth, letting him taste how much you want it.

‘tell me,’ he grits out, voice low, dangerous. his teeth scrape your jaw, his hands pulling your thighs apart. ‘tell me you need it.’

‘i need it,’ you breathe, already unbuttoning his jeans, already aching.

joel doesn’t waste time. he yanks your shorts down, drags his fingers through the heat between your thighs, groaning low at how fucking soaked you are for him. his other hand fists in your hair, pulling your head back just enough to make you whimper.

‘goddamn,’ he mutters, pushing two fingers inside you without warning, stretching you open. ‘you’re always so fuckin’—‘

‘joel,’ you gasp, thighs trembling as he curls them, hitting exactly where he knows you need it.

‘yeah, that’s it, baby,’ he coaxes, watching you unravel. his mouth is hot on your skin, sucking bruises down your throat, his free hand already working at his belt. ‘gonna let me fuck you stupid?’

you nod—needy, desperate.

and joel gives you exactly what you want.

ᖭ༏ᖫ

thank you for reading. reblogs & feedback appreciated. if you’d like to be tagged in future posts, let me know!

[joelswhcre]

⋆ masterlist⋆

"you have no idea what loss is." — joel miller

─ ୨ৎ joel miller ─ bite the hand ─ all his ─ class dismissed ─ keeps you up all night ─ shaping you ─ hunger ─ extra credit ─ dream scape ─ where there’s smoke ─ take it ─ desperate little thing ─ just the tip ─ red-handed ─

© joelswhcre 2025. please refrain from copying, translating, or claiming my work as your own.

[joelswhcre]

gold drips, wax melts, ink lingers—history never fades, only flickers.

۶ৎ mary. adult. joel's whore. smut peddler. minors dni; you're responsible for your own media consumption.

➺ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ➺ 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 ➺ 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊

main blog﹔this is my sideblog. i can’t like or follow

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