#Dark!Joel miller

[dilf-docs]

Let The Lights Bleed All Over Me

dark jackson!joel x younger!reader

summary: you're known for your kindness and sunshine personality, but they make it impossible for joel to have you for himself. and one thing you know about joel miller, is he isn't a patient man.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), DDDE 🕊, age gap, dark!joel, naive!reader, virgin!reader, dubcon, toxic relationships, corruption kink, humiliation kink, dacryphilia, stalking and kidnapping themes, oral (m. receiving), fingering, power imbalance, lowkey breeding and praise kink, use of multiple pet names, what am i even doing atp ijbol

word count: 4,354 words

side note: this request made me go against my morals. yes, this blog has morals. no matter what filth is going on, consent is sexy my dear fellow citizens, don't forget it! also please forgive my first ever lousy attempt at a dark!character IJBOL

If It Feels Good, Then It Can't Be Bad

In a world ravaged by death, violence and hopelessness, you came like a ray of sun into Joel's life: a bath of sunlight to shine upon his otherwise dark life; to cast light to fight the shadows ever-present on his eyes.

The first time you said his name, even if it was just to repeat it after he introduced himself, Joel knew he was done for.

Your sweet disposition and voice dripping in honey. The soft bat of your eyelashes, and the fact you weren't aware of it, making him squirm whenever you looked in his direction with those doe eyes and best girl smile.

Joel thinks you're a force of nature, yet soft, like the wind: you'd brush past things, just enough to be noticed, but the right amount to knock someone off their feet if you wanted. Still, you seemed to wield this power with benevolence, true to your kind character.

You'd sometimes come over by his house, with a tray of fresh baked cookies or homemade meal, to repay for favors that had started to sound like excuses to be close to him and his musky scent. The way you moved at ease around, like you'd carved a space in those four walls, his home, so easily fitting into his life, akin to falling dominoes. It was also the way you trusted him, staying so close to him in a house blocks away from Jackson's populated busy streets; you could scream for help and no one would hear you. That was you: too kindhearted and innocent, always seeing the best of people.

Maybe that's why you didn't catch the dark when he looks in your way. You don't see him standing outside your house, in that empty dark alley, gaze trained to your window facing the street. After weeks, he'd come to know you only sleep with a big worn t-shirt and your underwear. Joel imagined you wearing his own, the pattern of the flannels decorating your skin. Once, while you were on patrol, he snuck into your house and took the used panties laying in the bin, later pistoning his cock to the scent of you, nose buried in the fabric.

He was obssesed with you: with your scent on the mornings (floral), your hair that fell as waves (he prefered when you used ponytails, definitely not imagining a makeshift one he would do to you), with the inviting peak of your cleavage during the summer, or in your sweet innocence that wafted through the air in an intoxicating yet alluring thick coat of cinammon, smelling as the cookies you're always making. Joel wanted to have you. To taste you. To make you his. He wanted all: your shaky breathing in winter, skin devoid of scars and hurt, your sweet smiles and naive nature.

So he persisted until you spent more time at his house than your own, until Ellie started seeing a mother in you despite your young age, until you gave him a soft kiss to his lips, and he lost himself to the fire, the flames burning until he managed to have you under him, squirming as he pumped his thick calloused fingers in and out, doing circles and then curling them, your pretty pussy gushing out liquids he'd obscenely lick afterwards. Good girl, praising. One day, I'm gon' give you the real thing. Then, Joel would remove damp strands from your face and press his soft and broader frame against your own, curves matching his edges, fitting in like pieces of a puzzle. He'd hold you and whisper I got ya', promising to protect you and never let you go, and while it made your chest flutter, it too felt a threat. Like when he'd bruise your arm for holding too tight, be it someone who talked or saw you longer than he liked. You said he was hurting you, but Joel chuckled, replying: "How can love hurt?"

It wasn't something you could stop, Joel would learn: everyone orbits around the sun, captivated by the light. You had all Jackson wrapped around your finger, him included.

You lived to love, giving and receiving that warmth you so easily carried despite the cruel and harsh word just outside the gates. Everyone wondered how broody older Miller got with young sweet you. It made no sense, but Joel made sure to rub it on their judging faces, parading you like a prize, by obliging Tommy to be your only patrol partner, since he didn't trust anyone else around you; he hated loosing sight of you. He too would suck on your skin, despite your cries of pain, so the whole town could see you were his: that he owned you and your tender fragile heart.

People didn't get that Joel's love was like a heavy blanket: warm, but suffocating.

And they too didn't get that meant Joel needed you like oxygen to breath. No, instead they went about their day making sure to bask in your warmth, relishing in your light while he was pushed to the shadows. All of Jackson was hellbent on making sure you spent time with everyone but him, whether it be helping with tasks that weren't yours because you couldn't say no, or just any excuse to spend time with you since that's how much everyone liked you.

And Joel Miller is not a patient man. He could only take so much after losing what he's lost.

So, today, when he shows up at your door, unannouced as you help take care of some neighbour's kid while their mother is out on patrol, his deep brown eyes carry a shade of dark you can't quite place.

"Joel?"

He doesn't greet you, instead, forcing his lips on yours, his tongue shoving its way inside your mouth.

"J-Joel!" you manage to squeak after he pulls out, "what are you doing? There are kids in the room!"

But he's too entraced by your swollen lips, rapid breaths and erratic heart. Your pupils are blown wide, and Joel just happens to love your big round pure eyes that stare back at him in disbelief.

"Don't care" he replies, voice gruff. Of course. "Came to remind ya' 'bout me"

You smile sweetly. "Why, Joel? How can someone forget about you?"

Your sugary tone and good heart; he can't get mad at you. But his blood boils in a feeling he knows all too well, creeping its way up his throat in a bitter taste that makes him clench his fists until they turn white. You're blissfully unaware, just as the kid that plays in your lap. His breath hitches and blood rushes to his cock.

(You. Full as he spurts his seed inside of you, dripping from your spent cunt. Big round belly carrying his child. Maybe that way, all prying eyes will learn. He'd have you all for himself, move you into his house, and you'd be too busy with your own baby to waste time with the rest of the town)

"Maybe if ya' weren't so goddamn busy with all of fucken Jackson you'd know what 'am talkin' 'bout"

Your face falls at his bitter tone. "Joel, I'm sorry-"

But he doesn't let you finish. He never does. Instead, he speaks until words wound your heart and then he'd say I'm sorry, I'm sorry until his voice drowned in your chest, where he'll hid his face. You forgave him every time.

(Knew he got mean when he was nervous, like a bad dog. That he'd bite, because he'd been too long bearing teeth to know how to be soft―but you let him try)

"Come today to my place" he says today instead.

What?

"What?" you repeat out loud.

The kid in your lap giggles, toothless grin in display, completely oblivious to the situation unraveling in front of them, the atmosphere charged.

"Later" he's turning his back, boots echoing on the floor as he reaches for the exit. "Don't forget it"

And then the door slams. You look down to the kid, who gives you a puzzled look.

"I know" you reply, stroking their head. They close their eyes, content, but all you can think of is Joel. "I know"

But the truth is you don't.

The last thing you remember is sitting on Joel's house. Ellie was with Dina, and the quietness of the house gave you a sense of peace, even if it ran deeper than other times. A single candle flickered in the table he had set, and you joked you didn't know he was capable of good things.

"Oh, sweetheart" he laughed, "I'm capable of lots of things"

He served you food he cooked, and when you questioned the odd gesture, he told you there was always a first, but his words carried an underlying tension you couldn't shake. You ate in silence, and then he gave you a cup of wine. Drink, voice a low rumble. Your body felt warm, and after a few cups, dizzy.

"Joel?" you asked, dropping the cutlery on the floor. The sound jolted you awake, but your body didn't respond.

"I think ya' need sum rest, baby" his steps drawing closer, but his frame so far away.

You think he placed you in your bed, the blankets over you.

But you're under. Drowning.

"Mornin', sweetheart" a voice draws out. You raise from the bed, a sharp pang hitting you. "Take it easy"

"W-what happened?"

"Nothin', y/n" him saying your name always brought you comfort; put you at ease. "But we've plenty of time for that. No funny bussiness from fuckin' ass Jackson"

You raise an eyebrow at that. Then, you look around, and it takes you a while to understand what's actually happening.

This isn't Joel's house. Your eyes dart to the bed, fast and panicked. This aren't your bed covers either. Or worse, neither his.

"Where are we?" your voice comes out smaller than you intended. You look at him, body trembling. "Joel?"

He doesn't answer, instead, walking in silence towards the open window.

"You cold?" he closes it, and the suffocating feeling of being trapped augments. "Your body's shakin', baby. Why don't you put the covers on again-"

"Don't touch me!" you scream, and you hate the way his face falls. But then the glimmer you love on his eyes is absent, replaced with dullness. Then, something akin to a burning rage replaces it, yet he's quick to mask it.

"No need to shout, baby" and he sits on the bed, despite on your insistence to withdraw from his presence, "no one's gonna hear ya"

You just then realize you're in the middle of nowhere, only trees being seen behind the window he's closed. How could this be the same man who tenderly kissed you before leaving you at your doorstep?

"I-I don't know what's happening" your voice wavers and you hate it, "but let me go"

"So you can go back to fuckin' ignorin' me?" Joel barks. You jump out of the bed, naked feet against cold floor. The temperature hits your bare legs. Bare legs?! You were wearing jeans. Had he-

"Joel" you seethe his name.

He chuckles, but its devoid of joy. Of any emotion, actually.

"I ain't touch ya" he knows you so well, guessing the fear in your eyes. "Not yet"

Your voice is thick and hoarse with emotion. "W-what is that supposed to mean?"

"You think I would'a sit waitin' 'till ya' had the nerve to fuckin' look at me?" he gets closer, and you start to cower and tremble in fear.

"W-what?" you shake. "Please, Joel, just tell me what's happening! I don't get it-"

You walk backwards until your back presses against the wall. He chuckles, licking his lips like a hungry wolf; Joel's got you cornered.

"What's there to not understand? Jackson's taken too much of your time. I'm gonna just take back what's rightfully mine" you start to piece the pieces together, and your stomach drops with uncertainty. You feel lightheaded and at unease. "Cuz you can't say no, can you, baby?" Joel laughs darkly, like he's making a fool out of you. "Hope you don't say no to me now"

You remain quiet, your shaky breaths and uneven sobs the only sounds in the room. What is there even to say? That you can't help what's in your nature? That you'd deny helping others? That it's okay he does this in the name of love?

"Ya' gonna play hard to get?" his boots rumble menacing as his steps draw him closer, "like you ain't beggin' for 'tis"

Joel Miller wasn't a patient man. He yanks you by your hair, and you scream at the action, his breath gracing your face.

"If ya' want things to go smooth, ya'nswer when I talk to ya', get it?" Joel roars through gritted teeth. Droplets of saliva sprinkle over your skin, and you squirm.

"O-okay" you manage to nod, whimpering.

"Aw" he coos, and it's scary how fast Joel's switched. "See? It ain't hard to be a good girl fo'me. Just like y'are in town" Joel chuckles. "Jackson's girl"

The nickname feels like a slap to your face. Tears begin to fall from your eyes before you can stop them.

"No need to cry, baby. I'm gon' treat ya' like I always do: right" Joel grabs you by your chin roughly, digits coloring your skin purple. "That if ya' cooperate"

Joel never imagined to hurt you, but as you pathetically wail and fat droplets run through your face, eyelashes adorned like snowflakes by tears, he thinks you're the prettiest thing in the world, his throbbing dick approving.

"But you know what?" his grip on your hair tightens, "don't stop. Ya' got yourself a pretty face when you cry"

"J-Joel" you beg one more time, but he can see your pupils blown wide and the faint whiff of your arousal in the air.

"Fuck, baby. You into 'tis?" you whimper. "S'fuckin' sweet but ya' can't help wettin' yourself f'r me now"

He forces you on your knees, and you shake in fear, hiding a barely concealed cry.

"That's right" Joel looks down at you, darkly chuckling. "Love how ya' look like 'tis"

You gulp as you're face to face with his hard dick, something you've always wanted to try, but now you're body feels like it's not your own and your mind's numb. You can't think straight as his free hand pulls his worn jeans down, his big hand pushing you against his clothed crotch, and you feel the pulsating dick against your cheek.

"Feel that, sunshine? That's how bad I missed ya" Joel's hand now removes his underwear, and then looks at you, carressing your cheek gently. "Will ya' be a good girl and show me ya' missed me too?"

But before you can provide an answer he shoves his half hard cock in your mouth. You try not to gag, having never done it before. In many ways, Joel had been your first: the first fingers to touch your pussy, not even your own. When you straddled his clothed dick, and he kept encouraging you with low grunts and soft moans that were like music to your ears. Or when your tiny hand wrapped around his girth, and you helped him come like he did without a helping hand. My pretty little helper, he had whispered, gotta show you how to use y'r mouth.

"Wrap y'r lips 'round me, baby" you do, but it's hard when he's so big. "Don't worry, I know you'll try y'r best. Now lick down there"

Your tongue travels through a sloppy and slick trail to his underside.

"Yes. God. Run y'r lips along it" Joel's breath hitches. "Fuckin' expert, baby. Keep goin"

You do. Saliva pools in your mouth, and you want to pull out, but he must sense it, so he grabs your hair rougher and keeps you in place.

"Not yet, baby. What's the rush?" he grabs your hand and places it in the base of his cock, stroking your shaking palm. "Ain't no one gonna interrupt us here no more"

You try licking a bit, but it isn't working anymore.

"Here, let me help ya"

Joel's voice comes out strained, but then his pushing your head with his hand by your hair, making it bob at the same time your hand does a move, all in one fluid rush. He's so big and hard, his girth slips from between your lips. Drool runs down your chin as you try to take him all, especially when Joel keeps pulling you closer, thrusting his hips at your messy minstrations, and when you almost cough his cock out, moans sounding more like gasps for air, he forces more inches in, his tip hitting the back of your throat.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't turned on by the way you sounded in the verge of suffocation, salty drops mixing with your spit and his precum, lips swollen and doe eyes wide. Chocked sobs and sucking sounds bounce off the walls, aside from his grunting and moaning.

"Needed to have ya', baby" he throws his head back, grip on your hair loosening. "Makin' me feel so good"

It gets to a point where his encouraging leaves a warm feeling in your chest, and your panties dampen as you clasp your thighs together, searching for some friction.

Maybe it's the fact that it's your first, or maybe it's him. Joel, with his closed eyes and open mouth, lips parted as needy groans and ragged moans fall from them. He's so fucking lonely and touched starved, you can't help but feel bad for neglecting him to the point he's taken you hostage in the middle of nowhere just to have you.

A particular thrust of his hips into your face makes his full cock hit the deep of your throat. Your nails dig at the skin of his thick thighs, the suffocating feeling augmenting, but all he does is moan at the burning sensation. And then it comes: the hot white ropes that make your suffocation now feel like drowning, his seed in your throat and dribbling down your chin with silver spurts of saliva. Your eyes fight to stay open, and Joel sees that.

"Sleeping, baby?" he pulls out, and you cough for air, falling to the floor with your hands. "Won't let me thank ya' for 'tis favor?"

Again without giving you room to reply, he's carrying your body like it's nothing, dropping you on the bed as you try to push him off, but his weight pins you down against the soft mattress. Joel chuckles as you squirm, pleadingly. His eyes darken with a primal all-consuming need to have you, fingers digging in your soft thighs as he pulls them apart roughly, your dripping clothed cunt exposed to him. His head dives in, giving your underwear a proud lick. Just like others time, a moan you can't stop falls from your lips, far too learned and reflexive.

"So sweet, sunshine" he whuspers lovingly, "and s'wet. I think you're ready"

Your mouth conjures something akin to a no, but your treacherous folds moisten up, and your cheeks heat up with rage and shame. He rubs his calloused pad on your clothed pussy, hard hand over your stomach.

"Will finally show ya' what'a good dick feels like"

He starts by pushing his fingers in your pussy, smearing the coat of wet slick over his fingers and your walls.

"That's enough" he decides. No sweet caring touches, no preparation and definetely no kisses because you've been a bad girl: ignoring him to favor others, like you don't know he'd die for you. Kill for you. He's devoted to your religion, holding onto you like a prayer, his faith in you the only thing keeping him sane. But maybe he isn't, Joel thinks as he aligns his cock to your puffy entrance and you whimper quietly, because this is your first and instead of taking his time he's shoving himself inside like an animal, too far gone by the possesiveness that chokes him and the pent-up frustration of weeks without your touch and pussy. Now, he'll finally make you his.

Joel throws his head back with a soft groan as his tip enters your soft folds.

"S' gonna hurt" he warns, voiced reduced to a low rumble that tickles your ear. "But you've hurt me too, baby. Hurt me when ya' preferred Jackson over me. 'S alright, we even now" he pushes in forcefully, and you choke out a sob. "I hope 'tis never happens again and you've learned y'r lesson"

His thick and big length goes through your tight walls. A scream dies in your throat, mind blank at the painful burning sensation. You can't even breath, feeling full as he slides in and you try to adjust. You're at his mercy, under him. Joel groans when droplets of blood fall to the sheets, in a more frustrating tune when he can't fully bury himself in since you're too tight, but soon enough Joel picks up a pace, starting his strokes.

"S' tight but so pliant fore'me. Maybe next time, since you such'a dick hungry whore" you whimper at his words, "slurpin' my cock first like a starved slut and now takin' it like a fucken cocksleeve"

He keeps sliding in and out, and there's a point when the burn doesn't feel like a fire but like a warm layer. He holds himself by your hips, his digits bruising the skin as he goes deeper with each thrust. The older man pounds into you, delighted at your responsive mouth, long gone the cries, now replaced by insistent muffled moans.

Your tits bounce under your shirt. Well, his. If he wanted to fuck you, he wanted you to be his. That you smelled like him. Made it clear by your marks and your clothes. You belonged to him, and when he sees your jiggling breasts under the pattern of his flannel, just like he had imagined all those times watching from outside your house, he buries himself to the hilt.

"Sorry, sunshine. Had'a make sure I was your first" but you know damn well he isn't, by the wicked gleam. "Cause you're only mine, you heard that? Gonna ruin this pussy for anyone of those fuckers in town, thinkin' they have a chance with 'cha. What have you told 'em, baby? They thinking they can come and take what's mine. Well, I'll gladly show 'em"

You gasp, pussy gushing inviting as his pelvis slaps against your ass. Joel's mouth falls open as he moans carelessly; in the middle of the forest, being heard is the least of his concerns. Your tight untouched walls wrapping around his aching cock drives him crazy, knowing he was the one taking you.

"Gon' fuck 'tis sweet untainted little cunt 'til it drips with ma' seed"

Your hands instinctively go for his shoulders, and you find yourself lost when his gaze meets yours, eyes completely gone and loosen curls sticking to his damp forehead.

"That's ma' girl" your stomach tightens at his low voice. "Hope you enjoy da' ride, sunshine"

Fuck. Your body trembles, silky walls fluttering and clenching at the new sensation, muscles tense then relaxed, your breathing hitching as a low, guttural sound erupts from Joel's throat, deep inside him as the rumble shakes his panting chest.

"Breath, baby" he removes some strands for your hair.

His cock grinds against your most sensitive spots, and when he feels your pussy clasp around his throbbing length, he knows you're done, desire coursing through his veins as his fingers find your swollen clit. He rubs the sensitive nub in tight, quick circles, his other hand slidibg to cup the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your damp hair as he pulls in for a deep, hungry kiss, swallowing your weak wails.

"Breath" Joel repeats. "I got'cha"

It's like an explosion, your release. Your pussy clenches and spasms around his cock, walls fluttering wildly as you come undone. You now quiver and tremble under him, body overwhelmed, but he doesn't stop to admire his work of art, far too enthralled in the task of coming himself.

"M gonna cum inside of 'cha" warning not question, "you'll be a good girl and take it all, yeah?"

Unexpectedly, Joel captures your lips in a desperate kiss, swallowing your scream as he fuckes you through your climax, tethering close to overestimulations. He grips your hair again, now by the back of your neck, keeping you in place as he devours your mouth, tongue delving deep to taste and feel your sweet flavor.

His orgams hits him like a train, balls tightening and cock throbbing inside your fluttering heat. He slams forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt inside your trembling cunt, finding his own release.

"That's my good girl" Joel purrs, voice a low, satisfied rumble. "Takin' my cum so well, like your pussy was made for it"

He rocks his hips gently, semi-hard cock against your sensitive walls, mixing his hot seed deeper into you. Joel loves, he's so sure of it. How else is he supoposed to describe this all-consuming feeling that forbids him from thinking straight, all reasoning be damned?

"You're mine now, sweetheart" he murmurs, breath hot against your ear. "Forever"

Joel can feel his cock soften inside, but makes no effort to pull out. Instead, he rolls your bodies to the side of the bed, that dips under your combined weight. He spoons you from behind, dick still nestled warmly inside your dripping cum-filled cunt. He drapes his strong arm around your waist, holding you close, alluding the sentiment of never wanting to let you go.

"S'much for takin' you all the way to the fucken woods" your eyes drop, dangerously close to falling. He chuckles at the sight, maybe at the though his cock had tired you this much. "Maybe I'll do it more often if those Jackson fuckers ain't learnt their place"

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @tomhiddles

[milla-frenchy]

Damn Kate, this series is so, so good 🫠🫠🫠

The Shower

18+ MDNI

Pairing : Dark!Joel Miller x f!reader (sorry no Tommy in this one).

Word Count: 1.5K

A/N: Ok so I'd like everyone to take a second to appreciate the amazing new Collared moodboard/banner (not sure of the correct terminology) that was sent to me as a gift by the completely wonderful @aurorawritestoescape/@not-a-unique-snowflake-blog. I think we can all agree that it's totally awesome!

I'm so insanely touched that she took the time out to create something so beautiful for my story and I thought as a thank you I would drop an extra little Collared chapter.

When I was writing the last chapter (before the story got away from me and derailed all my plans) I actually drafted out a version of the shower scene that Joel tells Tommy about. And as the bare bones were already drafted I have fleshed it out to be it's own chapter. So this will sit between Surrender and Uncle Tommy's Mistake. I hope you enjoy.

Please note that the moodboard is for aesthetics only, reader is never described past having boobs and a vagina. For more information on the series moodboards please refer to this post.

Warnings: Non-con, dark!Joel, kidnapping, Daddy kink, talk of squirting (Joel not really having a clue how it works), restraints, joint showering, oral (f!receiving), masturbation (m), cum eating.

Part 5 | Part 7 | Series Masterlist

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You awaken from your nap to Joel pulling out of you, your pussy aching at the prolonged stretch of having him inside you. A small whimper escapes before you’re even fully aware of what is happening.

“I know baby, I know. It’s a lotta cock for your little pussy to hold inside for so long hmm?”

You nod against his chest, still fully lying atop him “yes Daddy.”

Joel’s cock throbs at hearing that name fall from you with such ease after months of resistance. Before he can get carried away he rolls you off him onto your back on the bed and gets up with a groan.

“Need to clean us both up baby, you made a big mess,” he tells you, basking in the memory of your little pussy squirting all over him. He was surprised how arousing he’d found it. It was never something he’d given much thought in the before but fuck, how he’d enjoyed knowing he’d pushed you to the pinnacle of pleasure.

You pull your knees to your chest and tuck your head in, aiming to make yourself as small as possible, raw with vulnerability after finally surrendering yourself to Joel.

“I’m sorry Daddy, I didn’t mean to,” you whimper, worried you’re about to get in trouble, “I don’t know what happened, I’ve never wet myself before. I’m so sorry Daddy, please don’t be mad at me!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he soothes, crouching down to tug your face up to look at him. “I ain’t mad at you baby, you made Daddy so happy with what you did. C’mere,” he sits on the bed and drags you into his lap. “You didn’t wet yourself baby, you squirted, you know what that means?”

You shake your head timidly at him as he strokes your arm and you sink into his embrace. He wasn’t entirely sure on the mechanics of it himself but seeing your confused little face peering up at him the urge to soothe you burned through him, even if he had to bluff a little in order to do it.

“Well, you know how wet your little pussy gets when Daddy’s makin’ you feel good? Well some special girls, like you, when they feel especially good, their pussies can squirt out some of that wetness. That’s why it made me so happy baby, showed me how much you were enjoyin’ yourself.”

“Oh,” was all you could think to reply, not really sure what to make of what he was telling you, still unsure as to whether to be embarrassed or not. It had felt really good but you couldn’t help but feel a little betrayed by your body again. You had started to bare yourself emotionally to Joel, still a little scared and unsure but it seemed like your body was refusing to hold anything back. It would not keep any secrets from him.

He watched your face scrunch up as you contemplated his explanation. God he loved how innocent you were. You’d clearly led a very sheltered existence pre-outbreak and now he got to teach you everything you’d been missing out on. His cock throbs again at the thought.

He placed you back on the bed, getting up and disappearing into his room briefly and returning with the key to your collar.

“Come on baby, lets take a shower, get all cleaned up.”

He kept a hand tight around your bicep as he unlocked you. It’s not really necessary, there’s no way you’d attempt anything. You couldn’t beat him in a fight. And even if you were fast enough to slip away from him you wouldn’t survive long outside, naked in the freezing temperatures. And that’s without the added complication of also managing to slip past Tommy. But Joel refuses to take any risks with you after all the progress he’s made so his grip remains tight and bruising.

Guiding you into the bathroom he sits you down on the toilet, closing and locking the door behind him before turning on the shower head and waiting for the water to heat up. Once it was warm enough he guides you under the stream before climbing in after you.

You relax in the heat of the water, enjoying the comforting patter of it on your skin as Joel hastily washes himself behind you. Before long you feel his big soapy hands on you, making sure he captures every inch of skin on your back half before pulling you back into his chest to reach around you and repeat the process over your front. His hands linger on your breasts, squeezing and massaging softly before tweaking the nipples. You moan at his ministrations, pangs of arousal shooting to your core, so pleasurable despite your poor, abused pussy aching with every pulse and throb. You feel Joel harden behind you as his hands drop lower. He pushes your top half against the wall, bending you slightly at the waist and takes the shower head from the bracket to rinse off your seam. This is typically the point of your shower that whichever brother has the job of washing you would fuck you hard against the tiles. You brace yourself for it but instead Joel replaces the shower head and kneels behind you, planting a kiss on each ass cheek before spreading them to inspect your pussy.

“She’s all red and swollen baby. She sore?”

You sniffle out a quiet “yes,” hoping he’ll take pity on you. And he does in a way.

“Don’ worry baby, Daddy’s goin’ to kiss this all better.”

Before you can even question what he means he starts placing soft little kisses on your pussy. You startle at the contact, a shocked little cry escaping you.

“Daddy what are you doing?!” you gasp, unable to fathom why he would want to put his mouth on you there.

“Mmm baby, Daddy needs a taste of you,” he mumbles into your folds, continuing to leave kisses around your entrance and over your lips.

“Daddy it’s dirty!”

“Ain’t dirty baby, bet you taste so fuckin’ sweet. It’ll feel good baby I promise, just trust Daddy k?”

He doesn’t wait for a response before slowly easing his fat tongue inside you, swirling it around before retreating and pressing in again. You can’t deny it feels incredible but you can’t help but feel uneasy at this new form of debauchery you’re being introduced to. Your head spins, the pleasure and the anxiety at war within you.

“I was right baby, you are fuckin’ delicious,” he babbles before pushing into you again.  

He slowly tongue fucks you for a few minutes and in the recesses of your brain you register how tender he’s being, how careful he is not to worsen the ache caused by his cock. He’s being kind to you. That thought alone has your heartrate soaring.

He withdraws his tongue from inside you and kisses his way down to your clit. You moan at the sensation of his tongue gently laving over it, swirling around it in ever decreasing circles before starting the maddening circuit again.

When he feels your clit start to throb under his tongue he starts alternating his little licks with softly sucking the swollen nub between his lips. It doesn’t take long for the pressure to build within you. He can see your poor little pussy clenching around nothing and with a shudder and a cry you come for him. His tongue abandons your little bundle of nerves when he sees your arousal starting to leak out of you. He gently circuits your entrance before easing the hot, wet muscle back inside of you, careful not to waste a drop of your sweetness.

With a groan and a final kiss to your clit Joel detaches himself from your pussy. Standing he turns you to face him and pushes you to your knees. Gripping his angry, leaking cock in his massive hand and stroking it with urgency.

“Open your mouth and stick your tongue out baby.”

You hesitate for a beat before following his instruction. He growls at the sight of you on your knees for him, mouth ready and waiting. He can’t wait for the day he can sink into the wet heat of it. But he’d promised Tommy. Promised that Tommy’s cock would be the first in your mouth. This would have to be enough for now.

With a moan his balls tighten and ropes of his hot seed spurt over your face and tongue. You try to flinch away but Joel catches you with his free hand keeping you in place

“Keep that tongue out baby, be a good girl, stay right there.”

With a grunt he finishes emptying his balls on your tongue.

“Ya look so pretty all painted baby,” he tells you as he gently rubs his thumb over your cheekbone, smearing his cum over your skin.

“Now, swallow.”

⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️

Please let me know if you’d like to be removed from the tag list.

@aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @oldloganslittleslut @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @axshadows @justajoelsreader @ahintofkiwistrawberry @guelyury @rosebuds-and-moonlight @koshkaj-blog @shivispunk @ivoryandflame @tammythr @magpiepills @megjohnston23 @ad23900

[millersgrrl]

idk but this pic reminded me of pervy stepdad! joel when he gets home from a rough day at work. 🎀

__________________________________

just him letting out a big sigh while plopping down on the couch beside you. the delicious musky smell of sweat and dirt radiating off of him as he grips your hips and pulls you onto his lap without a word and starts rocking your pantie clad pussy over the throbbing bulge in his jeans.

shushing you and gripping your hips tighter when you start to whine and push away from him, telling you through gritted teeth that he had a shit day and that he needed this.

“c’mon kid, be good and let daddy have this.” he’d groan out breathlessly, his head dropping down against the back of the couch as he ignores your whimpers and quiet moans for him to stop.

[wintrwinchestr]

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

read this chapter on ao3

part 3

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!!)

[strang3lov3]

Lie to Me

Joel catches you red handed (3.7k)

Tags- dark!joel, i think we should call him darkdaddy!joel all in favor say aye, one shot, smut, dubcon, just the tip, oral sex (f! receiving) fingering, come shot, comeplay, overstim, handjob, coercion, masturbation, daddy kink, innocence kink, inexperienced/virgin!reader, biiiig girthy yet unspecified (legal☝️) age gap, weird feelings and some good ol' fashioned shame, hitting, implied abuse, Joel is fatherly in a hot and disgusting way, calls himself 'your old man', gratuitous use of the nicknames kiddo and pumpkin, Depeche Mode references because you can’t stop me. Balanced mix of Joel being mean and tender.

A/N - been a while since we’ve seen this guy, huh? Everyone give him your warmest welcome <3 i wanted to warm up with him before getting started on this joel's whole story so, here it is. and I am FINALLY done with this semester, so for about a month you’re gonna get a heavy fucking dose of strang3lov3. Apologies in advance. @endlessthxxghts, you know what you did you sick fuck. thank youuuuuu ♡ and thank you @beefrobeefcal for your eyes!

The warm bath Joel gives you each night is your favorite part of the day. Always. Washing it all away, both the good and the bad. All that dirt swirling down the drain. The delicate soap, the tingling when the water is a little too hot. Bath time is quiet. Joel doesn’t talk much, and neither do you. And he’s gentle, gentle as he washes you. Tender hands rubbing your skin, mindful of the bruises and contusions and the scratches and scrapes he leaves you. He tells you he doesn’t like to hurt you, but that you leave him no choice when you disobey the way you do. 

After helping you out of the tub, Joel thoroughly dries you off with a clean yellow towel. He’s a little rough as he does it, rubbing your skin too hard, tugging at your hair as he squeezes out the water. “Joel,” you whine. 

“I know, I know. M’tryin’ to be gentle,” he says. “You’re tender-headed. Makes my job difficult.”

“You always call me difficult.”

“‘Cause you are difficult, pumpkin. Challenging. Got my work cut out with you.”

You shiver when Joel hangs your towel back up. He unscrews the lid of a container of lotion, scooping out a generous amount. He rubs the cold cream into your skin, up and down your arms and legs. You’re not such a big fan of this part. “It’s cold, Daddy.”

“Sorry, kid. Nothin’ much I can do about that,” Joel replies.  

“Could warm it in your hands.”

Joel eyes you, brow raised. You’re testing him. He knows to expect it, you pushing his buttons. “And you could grow some thicker skin.” 

After moisturizing your skin, Joel reaches in the cabinet for a tube antibiotic cream and dabs a bit on each of your wounds, rubbing the ointment in. “Yeah…they’re healin’ up good,” he murmurs. “Be gone in no time. Alright now, sweetheart. Bedtime.”

Joel lightly swats your ass and sends you to your room, following closely behind you. His knees crack more frequently with his steps, fuck, he’s getting old. 

You bounce on the bed as Joel opens a drawer of your dresser, pulling out different pajama sets. “Let’s see what we got here,” Joel says, more to himself than to you. He shows you both options, “Blue stripes or green plaid.”

“That’s not green,” you point out, “That’s teal.”

“Mm. Clever, smartass. Now pick.”

“Neither. I wanna wear one of your shirts.”

Trouble. You know exactly which strings to pull with Joel wrapped around your finger. He rolls his eyes, biting down on a smile as he puts both pajama sets in your dresser and leaves to fetch you one of his t-shirts. “Arms up,” he tells you as he returns. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

Joel pulls the shirt over your head, the fabric covering just enough of your body to keep you decent. You pull back the quilt on your bed and slip under it, and wrap a plush blanket around your shoulders. 

“Scoot.” Joel sits right next to you, the springs of the bed groaning and creaking with his weight. “God dammit,” he hisses, adjusting for his sore back. Joel reaches into his shirt pocket and pulls out his slightly crooked reading glasses to put them on, annoyed at the way they never sit quite right on his face. He runs a hand through his graying curls, then turns on your lamp and reaches for the book he’s been reading you. He uses the dog-eared page to find his place in the book, something that makes you cringe. “I don’t like when you do that,” you tell him. 

“Do what?”

“Fold the pages.”

“You sound like the librarian,” Joel jokes. “Why don’t I find you some paints or somethin’ and you make me a pretty bookmark then, deal?”

“Deal.”

“Whatcha gonna paint for me?” Joel waits for your response, peering down at you as he pushes a bit of hair out of your face. “Don’t know yet?”

“Mm-mm.”

“S’okay. You got time to decide.”

Joel begins reading to you, making sure you’re following along with him. You rest your head on his strong bicep, your hands wrapped around his forearm. You trace the veins there, counting the scars and marks on his skin. His hands are so weathered and large. 

When Joel finishes the chapter, he closes the book, this time putting a penny between the pages to hold his place instead of folding the corners down. “We’ll read more tomorrow. Maybe watch a movie instead,” he offers. Joel puts his massive, warm hand against your cheek and pulls your head towards him, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then both of your cheeks, then the tip of your nose. “Get some sleep, pumpkin.”

Joel leaves then, shutting your door but not before turning on your nightlight. You miss his warmth immediately, the weight of him on the bed with you. He didn’t make you finish tonight, either. You’re sort of…itching for it, like you didn’t know how much you need it until now that it’s out of reach. 

You’re not supposed to do it on your own. Joel says you don’t know what you’re doing, that only he can touch you there, be it his fingers or his tongue. But you’ve touched yourself there on your own before, and it felt good. Not as good when Joel does it, but almost the same. 

You spread your legs wide, your hand going straight for your clit only for a moment, then bringing your fingers to your mouth to spit on them, just how Joel does. You reach for your pussy again, rubbing tight circles into your clit. 

It feels okay. Fine. You close your eyes, focusing on the small amount of pleasure you feel. Picturing things you find erotic, like the romance books you read in without Joel’s knowledge or Uncle Tommy, Joel’s brother. It makes you feel a little guilty to fantasize about him like this, but it feels thrilling, too. A special, private secret only you know about. 

You hold your breath as you work yourself, alternating between clockwise and counterclockwise circles in an attempt to determine which way feels better. Which direction does Joel do it? You spread your legs wider, testing out bigger and smaller circles. It’s been maybe five minutes maximum, and you’re feeling impatient. That’s another thing Joel tells you that you are, along with being difficult. Impatient. Stubborn, too. 

Joel pushes his fingers inside you when he makes you come, so you try doing that to yourself. Nothing much happens when you do it, sort of like when you try to tickle yourself. Your fingers aren’t as thick, as long, as deft as Joel’s are. But you try all the same. 

Whining, whimpering Joel’s name, the squeaking of the bed while you rock your hips into your own hand, Joel hears it all on the baby monitor hidden in your room. Broken moans in the crackling static. 

He’s only curious, wanting to measure your self control, if you even have any. You know you’re not supposed to be doing this and yet, you’re doing it anyway. Defiant. He gives you an inch and you take a mile, every single time. Always touching what’s forbidden to you, be it the handle of a door left unlocked or your own cunt. 

Maybe he’s gone soft. Maybe Joel’s too easy on you. He doesn’t like to punish you, but what else can he do when you leave him no choice? 

In truth, Joel likes this about you. It’s the thrill of the hunt, the game. And when his fingers are inside you, despite all that whimpering and crying, what’s really there? Arousal pooled at your entrance, twitching thighs and moans you do your very best to swallow. You’re all bark, no bite. You like it this way. His way. You just need a little guidance. 

Joel listens to you fuck yourself on your fingers for a little while longer, palm pressed against his bulge as your frustrated noises pour in through that tinny speaker. He understands, truly. Can’t sleep without orgasming - he can’t either, for fuck’s sake. He’ll be listening to you all night if he doesn’t make you come soon. And therein lies the problem - Joel gives in too much. He’s spoiled you rotten. 

Joel gets up and out of bed, takes heavy steps toward your bedroom. He can practically see you behind that oak door even before opening it - legs spread beneath the quilt, brow pinched together as you huff and pant in both frustration and focus. 

Joel twists your door knob slowly, and silently pushes the door in. He takes the quietest of steps toward your bed, standing above you with his arms crossed over his chest as he stares down at you. You look just as wrecked as he predicted. 

“Psst.” 

You freeze, eyelids flying open to see Joel glaring at you in the dark, his features harsh under the lack of light. You quickly move your hand-

“Nuh-uh, don’t you move,” Joel interrupts. “What’re you doin’ up so late? S’well fuckin’ past your bedtime, young lady.” 

“I’m not-”

“Think it through. You really wanna lie to me? Even after what happened to ya the last time you pulled that shit?”

Your cheeks heat up, your hands shaking. “I’m…uh…” your voice wobbles, you swallow thickly. 

“Spit it out.” 

“I’m touching myself.”

“I see that,” is all Joel replies. A silence hangs as you wait for him to continue. The ticking clock sounds louder, the groaning wind against your window. “But you know you ain’t s’posed to be doin’ yourself, kiddo. We talked about this. S’the rules, right?”

“Right,” you whisper. 

Joel nods, biting his inner cheek as he sits down on your bed, holding one of your feet through the quilt. “You’ve got quite the tendency of disobeying your daddy, you know. What’m I gonna do with you?”

You shrug and turn away from him to avoid his disappointed expression. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I just thought you forgot to make me come tonight, daddy, but I needed it. Please don’t be mad at me right now. I’m really sorry.” 

Your apology tugs at Joel’s heartstrings. “Got me wrapped around your fuckin’ finger,” he groans, rubbing his large hand up and down your leg. “You win, kid. I’ll let it slide. But you promise me it won’t happen again, ‘cause I don’t like havin’ to punish you.”   

“I promise.”

“Attagirl,” Joel whispers, smiling at you. He leans forward to press a kiss against your forehead, his wiry facial hair both scratches and tickles your skin. “Alright, now. Let’s see what you’re workin’ with,” he says, folding your quilt down your torso, and bunching it at the end of your bed. “Sounded like you were havin’ trouble, hm? S’that right?”

Joel doesn’t have to wait for your answer to know the truth. He pulls your hands away from your center, fingertips pruned and slick with your arousal. “Oh, pumpkin,” he tsks. “Look at the mess you made.” 

He spreads your legs far apart and sits between them, then licks one of his thumbs and brings it to your core. He slides the digit up and down your folds, circling your clit here and there. “Joel,” you whine breathlessly. 

“I know, I know, I know. Poor thing. You’re all outta sorts, huh?” he coos. “Gimme your hand. You don’t know what you’re doin’ at all.”

You hold your hand in front of yourself. Joel takes it, sucking on your fingers, growling at the taste of your wet before lowering it to your pussy. “Gotta give her a bit of finesse,” Joel instructs, dragging your fingers up and down your folds, just how he did with his own fingers. “Can’t dive right in. Gotta work up to it. See?” 

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Am I doing it right? Like?”

“Yeah, jus’ like that. Give her a lil’ more, now. Rub that clit. Gentle, steady,” he directs, helping you to touch yourself. It fills him with a primal sort of power, being able to instruct you how to best touch yourself, knowing you’ll never be able to replicate his perfection. “Nice an’ slow, now. That’s it. Nope, slow it down,” he reminds you. 

You whine his name, frustrated with how long this is taking. “It’s not - it’s not working.”

“Easy, sweetheart, I know you’re hurtin’. M’only tryin’ to help,” he says. “Gotta work on that attitude.”

You speed up your ministrations, frantically chasing a release that is painfully out of reach. Joel swats your bare thigh, a warning. “Gotta breathe,” Joel advises you. “Can’t force it. Let it come to ya.”

“I’m try-”

“I know you’re tryin’.”

Your tummy rises and falls with your uneven breaths, fingers slipping on your wet heat. You can’t seem to find the right pace to rock your hips at, and you’re biting your lips raw to conceal the words threatening to spill that Joel doesn’t let you speak. 

“Alright, enough of that.” Joel pushes your hand away, and you cry in frustration. “You’re hurtin’ her. Daddy’s gonna take care of this now,” he whispers more to himself than to you, lowering his body. His hot breath fans over your slick cunt as he puts both of his wide, meaty hands on the backs of your thighs, opening you up wide for him. Poor fucking pussy, all swollen and throbbing and aching. Joel swallows hard and presses his lips against your folds, mumbling, “Gonna kiss her all better,” he says.

He begins with kisses, kissing your lips, nipping at your inner thighs. You’re dripping, leaving a puddle of arousal on the sheets. Joel can feel the heat radiating from your sex, how you vibrate with a need only Joel can satisfy. He squeezes the generous flesh of your thighs with his fingertips harshly, just shy of bruising you. Though he could, if he wanted to. But he is curious what your skin looks like unblemished by his violence. 

With a flattened tongue, Joel licks a long stripe from the bottom of your slit right to the top, rounding your clit before repeating the action. The room is quiet, save for the way Joel breathes steadily in and out of his nose that’s pressed against you, teasing you. And your quiet moans, sweet little whimpering noises spilling from your lips with every exhale. 

Joel circles your entrance all wet and sloppily, taking care to press a couple of more kisses against your folds before dipping his tongue inside you, tasting your arousal from the hole it drips from. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whisper. 

“Hey.” he swats your ass cheek. “Is that how good girls are s’posed to use their mouths? Hm?”

“No, daddy.”

“Uh-huh. ‘Cause those pretty lips of yours are for kissin’ daddy’s cock. Right?” 

“R- yeah. M’sorry.”

After chastising you for swearing, Joel dives right back in. Your hands find Joel’s scalp so you can tug on his hair, twirling your fingers around those silvery curls. The action makes Joel smile. God, your innocence. 

He licks at your slick folds, sucking one into your mouth and then the other, neglecting the little part of you that needs him the most. He savors you like this, the scent of your musk, your arousal like honey on his tongue. When you’ve soaked his face, when your thighs are twitching under his wide palms, only then does Joel circle your clit. You shake and shudder, muscles straining under Joel’s grip as he forces you to stay wide open to eat the most sensitive piece of you. You’re dripping wet, clit throbbing and pulsing under his tongue. “Focus right here, pumpkin,” he murmurs, reaching up to grab your chin and tilt your face down. “Daddy wants to see his favorite eyes.” 

Once you nod, Joel lets his hand trail back down your body. Instead of using it to hold you open, he turns his head to the side and brings two calloused fingers to his mouth, soaking them in his saliva before pushing them into your entrance. He curls them against the spongy spot inside you, its location is committed to his memory. You dance on his tongue, squirming and whining and writhing as he works you with his fingers. Joel pulling your strings, watching how you move. You’ll do anything.

“Yeah, daddy’s fingers do it better, huh?” he taunts. “Poor girl.”

God, it’s hard for Joel to eat you in the way he knows he should. It’s meant to be an act of love and it certainly is in some ways, sure it is. But really, it’s all for Joel. It’s all selfish, voraciously consuming you like you’re the first meal he’s seen in days, biting at your flesh like he means to tear it off the bone. His tongue laves over your sex, wiry beard rubbing your inner thighs raw - he’ll put ointment on your skin there, too, to calm down the irritation. 

He strokes that sweet spot inside of you with his fingers, pleasure building quickly. It blooms deep in your gut, roiling up your spine and down your legs. “Oh, Joel,” you moan, babbling incoherently. “Oh, f- oh…” 

The wet, sticky noises as you’re kissed, licked, sucked, lapped at, teased, stroked. The quiet as release approaches - holding your breath, muscles tightening, a pressure building. And then oh, there it is, there you are. Coming on Joel’s tongue, gushing into his hand. 

Joel licks his palm, then sits back up. He sets your feet back down on the bed, mindful of your achy thighs. Your moans have quieted, replaced with peaceful breaths as you lie with your eyes closed. “Nuh-uh, I ain’t finished with you quite yet,” Joel says, lightly smacking your cheek to wake you up. “You know the drill. You get yours and daddy gets his.”

Slotted between your legs, Joel kneels then, knees cracking as they press into the plush of your mattress. He pulls the string of his worn-out pajama pants and pushes the waistband down, and his hard cock lands against his tummy with a smack. “Gimme a hand, pumpkin,” he says, and you hold out your hand for him. He spits into your palm, then wraps your fingers around his thick shaft. “All the way up an’ all the down,” he reminds you. “Jus’ like I showed ya.”

Joel leans over you as you begin stroking him, gliding your palm up and down his length. 

“Tighter,” he says, reaching between your bodies to squeeze your hand tight. He keeps his hand there as you work him, keeping the pressure to his liking. “Attagirl.”

He works a twist into the motion now, bucking his hips into your hand. You admire the look of his soft tummy, the gray and white hairs smattered around the base of his cock. Joel’s cock pulses under your touch, in time with his beating heart. Tip red and swollen, aching for more, more…

Joel presses his forehead against yours and drops lower, taking control of the moment. With your hand still under his and holding his stiff length, Joel guides the tip of himself to your slit. He groans when the head meets your pussy, the warmth and the wetness. He lowers himself, the end of his cock prodding right at your entrance. “I think you’re ready for it,” he tells you, notching the tip inside. 

Your heart pounds, and you put a hand against Joel’s chest. “N-no, not yet, daddy.” 

“Toughen up, kid,” he urges, pushing in a little bit further, then pulling it out again. “Gotta rip that bandaid off sometime. Gonna let me do it?” Joel taunts you with the threat of fully penetrating you, dragging the tip of his cock up and down your folds, fitting it inside your tight entrance before pulling it out again. “On three. One, two…”

You shake your head.

Joel sighs deeply. “You’re breakin’ your daddy’s heart, pumpkin. I hope you know that.”

But it doesn’t change your mind. Joel tsks, then goes right back to fucking the head of his cock on your vulva. He focuses less on getting himself off, but rather getting you off again. Rubbing the blunt head of his cock against your still-sensitive clit, tapping it momentarily before rubbing it in the opposite direction. 

You breathe heavily and shakily, “T-too much,” you say. 

“Y’wanted to come bad enough you broke the rules for it,” Joel replies in a calm voice. “You’re givin’ me another, jus’ like this, and you’re gonna say ‘thank you, daddy’ when it’s over.”

He pushes his pelvis forward and resumes teasing your clit, moving the head of his cock in circles around your clit, causing you to twitch at the sensation. A quick dip inside your cunt and then he’s doing it again, but rubbing left to right. Like the good girl you are, you rock your hips in time with his movements, moaning as the pleasure builds once more. Joel coaxes one last orgasm from you, leaving you a twitching, throbbing mess. “What do you say?”

“Thank you, daddy,” you whisper. 

Joel kisses your forehead and allows you to relax on the pillows as he works himself, still using your hand. He breathes heavily, grunting and groaning as he quickens the way he pumps himself, thumb swiping over the head and the underside of his cock where he’s most sensitive. The pressure builds deep in his gut, just as it did yours, and his balls tighten. His brows knit together and he grits his teeth as he comes, growling as he paints his spend onto your sex. “Oh, Christ. Goddamn, fuck. Yeah,” he breathes, gathering his come onto the tip of his cock, then pushes it inside you before he softens. “You’re a good kid,” he tells you. “Good girl. Good girl, pumpkin.”

-

more dark daddy!joel here

If you enjoyed, please reblog with kind thoughts and consider sending an ask 🩷💜 your sweet words go so far in keeping me motivated and I love when you help this blog feel like a community

Kitty gifs instead of pics for you today I hope that’s allowed 🥹

[thehydraethereal]

still available! ♡♡

⋆⁎✽๛ 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 --- for requests

෴ 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑: This content is dark and very triggering. Minors and easily triggered people, do not interact. Your mental health matters. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

෴ 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: MY CONTENT IS DARK AND DARK ONLY. My requests are now OPENED. You can request as many fictions as you want, but you have to check out my CHARACTERS LIST and my WARNINGS first. IF YOU ARE ANON, USE AN EMOJI, SO WE CAN TALK MORE <3. Request via my INBOX. Please, also write a short summary of your ideas, do not just send in the number of the promp and the character. Thank you.

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 I will use for these: Choking; chasing kink; Dacryphilia (tear kink); fear kink; dv + heavy violence; restraints; manhanding and others. Please choose a few in your request.

"You flinch like that again in public, and I’ll give you a real reason to." (1)

"I don’t remember asking what you wanted, sweetheart." (2)

"You can cry if you want. Won’t change a damn thing." (3)

"That’s the problem with you. You never fucking listen." (4)

"Go ahead. Tell me no again." (5)

"You move, and I promise it’ll be worse." (6)

"I told you to sit down. Don’t make me say it twice." (7)

"You think I give a fuck if you’re scared?" (8)

"I liked you better when you knew your place." (9)

"You’re only still breathing because I let you." (10)

"See how quiet you can be after I slap you around?" (11)

"You can beg if you want. Doesn’t mean I’ll stop." (12)

"Do I look like a man who’s gonna change his mind?" (13)

"At least make yourself useful, baby." (14)

"You act like I haven’t done this before." (15)

"If you were strong enough to stop me, angel, you would have by now." (16)

"C'mon, baby, don't cry...we haven't even started." (17)

"I'll destroy your pretty face of yours if you do that again." (18)

"Come here. Now." (19)

"I'd suggest you returned because if I catch you...you won't like what I'll do to you." (20)

[pedroscurls]

stranded (one-shot)

summary: your car breaks down on the side of the road and a stranger decides to help you out... and you have no choice but to accept his help.

pairing: no outbreak/dark!joel miller x fem!reader content warnings: EXPLICIT CONTENT (18+ ONLY MDNI), DUBCON - please read at own risk / heed warnings!, stockholm syndrome, unprotected p in v, rough sex, manhandling, oral sex (m receiving), orgasm denial, begging, creampie, joel ties you up, spanking, light choking, fingering, age gap (reader is in 30s, joel is in 50s), no use of y/n. word count: 5.1k a/n: and here's yet another story where i'm stepping out of my comfort zone. i've always wanted to write dark!joel, but felt like i couldn't do it justice... but then ali's (@pedgito) hosting a writing challenge (spring fever) and i figured... why not? i chose backwoods horror #1 STRANDED/SIDE OF THE ROAD. please heed the warnings, y'all. this is gonna be very dark and filthy, so if you're not into that sort of thing, that's ok!

You had no idea what you were thinking—taking a solo cross country road trip after quitting your job. Maybe you thought that you’d find yourself, find some kind of purpose that was lacking in your life, but instead, you’re stranded on the side of the road. Gas empty, no cell service, and phone already on its last battery. 

This is where you’re going to die—you’re sure of it. It’s how all horror movies start and despite the sun still high in the sky, you’re increasingly getting worried about what could happen when night falls. You scream at the top of your lungs, the sound echoing through the vast empty void. 

God, no one would hear you scream for help if you were in real danger and that thought simply frightens you. Your friends had all but praised you for this trip—this journey to self-discovery and reflection. Your parents, on the other hand, had already been concerned when you said you would be alone on this trip. A woman, traveling the world by herself? Well, that’s just asking for trouble, they said. 

And now you understand their concern. You understand their fear about you traveling all alone because of where you are now—in the middle of fucking nowhere. You should have refilled your gas when you had the chance, should have charged your phone while you were driving. Should have, should have, should have. 

10%—your phone reads. You try to send a text to your parents, to send them your location, but every attempted text just comes back with the message in red text and an exclamation point next to it: NOT DELIVERED! You raise your phone in the sky, hoping that maybe you’ll get one bar of service, but no luck. 

The trip had been successful, up until this point. You were in Texas, that you were sure of. But where in Texas? You had no fucking clue. 

You lean against the side of your car—the sun glaring down at you and you can feel a thin sheet of sweat on the side of your neck. Why did you think this was even a good idea? Traveling cross country without a plan—how fucking naive. 

Your battery drains fast and your phone finally shuts off. You let out a quiet sigh of frustration and open the passenger door of your car to toss your useless phone inside. Just as you’re about to climb in, you hear a faint noise of a car engine. Suddenly, you feel hopeful—maybe you won’t die here after all.

The sudden excitement that you feel overpowers the possibility that what you’re doing is absolutely dangerous. You’re waving your arms in the air, trying to track down the person in the car who’s making their way in your direction. It’s possible that this person whose truck is slowing down as it nears you could very well be a serial killer, but what choice did you have? 

The truck pulls up behind your car and quickly, you run over to your savior. Your hero. 

“Hi. My car’s dead, my phone’s dead, and I just need a lift to the next gas station... Or any place where I can use a phone to give someone a call,” you blurt out, breathing heavily. 

He turns his head slightly in your direction—eyes gazing at your face, then down to your shoulders and the rest of your body that he can see from the driver’s side. You’re leaning against the opened window of the passenger side of the truck. You don’t belong here, he knows that for sure. 

“Next gas station is in the next town over,” he finally answers. 

“Could you give me a lift there? I can pay you. Let me just grab my things and—”

“No need,” he interrupts, voice low. “I’m headin’ in that direction anyway. Get in.”

You grin and Joel’s jaw ticks briefly. God, you’re beautiful and it’s truly been a long time since he’s been with—

“Promise you won’t kill me?” you laugh, climbing into his truck and interrupting his thoughts. 

Joel finally takes in the rest of your frame and can immediately feel his length stirring beneath his dark jeans. His hands grip the steering wheel to ease some pressure, but you’re still talking and you’re laughing and it shoots straight to the center of his pants. It must be his lucky day. 

“If I were to kill you, I don’t think I’d be confessing that, darlin’,” he answers—the corners of his lips lift slightly. Oh, you had no idea what you just got into by climbing into his truck. 

“Right,” you reply. “That’s a good point.” You look at him—taking note of his damp hair that’s slicked away from his face, his broad frame, salt and pepper patchy beard. You realize that he must be in his fifties, but you can’t help but notice how handsome he is. That’s a good sign, you think. He won’t hurt you. He’s going to drop you off in the next town and hopefully, you’ll be able to head back home in the morning. 

“I’m guessing you live around here?” you ask, feeling the truck move back onto the main street. You glance out the window, watching your car become smaller and smaller as Joel drives further away from it. 

“Yeah,” he answers. “Guessin’ you ain’t from around here.”

“That obvious?” 

He just nods. Joel needs to focus on the road ahead of him. He has to make it seem like he’s not a threat, like he’s not just about to take you directly to his home. His secluded home. 

You introduce yourself formally, telling him your name and turning your body to face him. “What’s your name?”

“Joel.”

“You’re a man of few words, aren’t you?” you smile in his direction and Joel glances at you from the corner of his eyes. 

“Not much to say.”

“Well, how long is the drive to the next town? If you don’t have music, I’m gonna end up talking. I don’t usually like it when it’s too quiet on a drive and—”

“It’s about fifteen minutes,” he interrupts. “Radio is busted.” 

“So talking it is then.”

“No use in talkin’ if we ain’t gonna be seein’ each other after this.” 

“I guess you’re right,” you answer with a sigh. You try to remain quiet, fidgeting with your hands as you stare out the window. Every few seconds or so, you glance over at him and you can’t fully read his expression. He’s so stoic that there’s a part of you that feels like an inconvenience to him. Maybe he should have just kept on driving. 

“How long were you stranded for?” Joel asks. 

“About a couple of hours. Couldn’t get reception to call someone.”

“Yeah, phones don’t work out here.” Joel shrugs. “You eat anythin’ yet?” 

You shake your head. “Skipped breakfast this morning to get on the road.”

“My place is just a couple of minutes away,” Joel says. “I need to grab a few things. Got some food and water for you,” he offers. 

You smile and reach out to rest a hand on his forearm. It’s an innocent gesture, but it makes Joel shift in the driver’s seat. Your touch is so soft, so gentle and he flexes his arm underneath your fingertips. “You’re sweet, Joel. That sounds great. I am starving.” 

Joel bites back a smirk. He’s got you right where he wants you. 

Your hand drops from his arm and there’s a subtle frown that settles on his lips before he pulls off the main road. Within minutes, Joel pulls up to his secluded home. When he shuts off the car, he looks over at you and you’re still smiling. 

“This is a cute place, Joel,” you tell him, climbing out of the truck. 

He follows you and rounds the truck until he’s standing behind you. His fingers itch to reach out to touch you—especially when you raise your arms over your head to stretch, the ends of your shirt lifting just above the waistband of your denim shorts. He wants to touch every inch of you and he lets out a quiet grunt when you accidentally fall back against him. 

“Sorry,” you say, looking over at him from over your shoulder. 

“S’fine,” Joel mumbles and then walks past you to walk towards his front door. He unlocks it and opens it for you, watching you step across the threshold as you look around with curiosity. 

“It’s very dark in here,” you point out, walking further into his home. You see a light switch on the wall and flip it on, illuminating his entire home. Surprisingly, Joel’s large hand encompasses your wrist in a tight grip. You let out a quiet gasp and turn around to look up at him—eyes wide, lips slightly parted. 

“You always like to make yourself comfortable in a stranger’s home?” he asks with a threatening tone. 

“S–sorry,” you whisper, trying to pull your wrist away from his grip but he doesn’t budge. His grip just tightens. “Joel, you’re hurting me.”

“Pretty little thing,” he mumbles, stepping closer to you. “It’s like you were waitin’ f’me out there,” Joel says quietly. 

“Joel—”

“Shh.” Joel brings a finger up to your lips and his eyes drift down, moving his thumb to brush against you. “Shh, baby.” 

“I think I want to leave now,” you answer. “I think I just want to head into town and—”

“Oh darlin’,” he grins. “Ain’t no town for at least another fifty or some miles.” 

“B–But you said—”

“Guilty,” Joel interrupts, turning you so that your back presses against the wall. He cages you in, hand still gripping your wrist as the other comes up to rest gently over your throat. “M’sorry I lied to ya.” 

Your eyes widen in horror, the realization finally hitting you like a freight train. You had spent most of the drive admiring him—his broad frame, his quiet and mysterious nature, his large hands that gripped the steering wheel, his husky southern accent—that you ignored the feeling in the pit of your stomach. 

This was a bad idea. 

Getting into his truck was a bad fucking idea. 

“I just want to go home,” you whisper. “Please just let me go home and—”

“Shh,” he repeats. Joel steps closer to you, his nose brushing against your own. “Gonna keep you here all to myself. Been a while since I had a little plaything like yourself.” 

You shake your head. “Please, I’ll give you all the money I have back in my car.”

“Don’t want your money. Want you.” 

“Joel—”

“Love the way my name comes out of your mouth, darlin’. Say it again.”

You shake your head, closing your mouth shut. You know you’re in danger, but you’re not sure why you feel a familiar wetness pool between your legs. Your body is responding to him—to this stranger… this handsome fucking stranger who can easily strangle you if he wanted to. 

“Say. It. Again,” he repeats.

“Joel,” you whisper. 

“Good girl,” Joel grins proudly. He drops his hand from your throat and releases his grip around your wrist. He stares into your eyes, searching for any hesitation or any inclination that you’re going to run and leave. He sees your eyes flicker to the front door and he narrows his eyes—his large hand once more coming up to splay against your throat. Joel applies just a bit of pressure and he watches your eyes go wide again. “Wouldn’t think about it, if I were you.” 

You beg with your eyes—apologetic and pleading for him to just let you go. “I’ll be good,” you mumble against his grip. “I promise. I–I’ll be good.”

“We’re gonna have a lot of fun,” Joel nods, releasing his grip around your throat. “And I bet if I were to reach between your legs, I’d feel just how fuckin’ wet you are f’me, won’t I?”

You shake your head in defiance. “N–No…” 

Joel lets out a chuckle. “Mmm, that so?” He tugs on the waistband of your denim shorts and pulls you to him. He’s so rough and there’s an excitement that courses through your veins. He tugs down your shorts and panties down your legs, looking down at your white lacy thong with a grin. He can see a blotch of wetness and brings it to his nose, inhaling deeply as he lets out a contented sigh. “I bet you taste fuckin’ good too,” he whispers. 

You suddenly feel self-conscious and your hands immediately move to try and tug down the end of your shirt to cover your lower half. Joel just shakes his head and grabs your wrists to pin them above your head against the wall. You squirm against his grip and he kicks your legs apart, stepping in front of you to keep them spread open. His free hand comes down and immediately runs the pads of his fingers across the length of your sex—your body betrays you because you let out a quiet whimper as you arch your back against his touch. 

“Wet,” he points out. “You like this, don’t you?” 

You shake your head. 

“Liar,” he chuckles. Joel wastes no time in sliding two of his thick fingers past your folds—your warm, tight, and so fucking wet that a large grin spreads across his lips. 

You squirm against him at the sudden and rough intrusion, eyes gazing up at him. His eyes are dark, filled with lust and more than likely sinister thoughts, but you can’t help but notice his grin and the cute fucking dimple that appears on his cheek. You shouldn’t like this, but your body is yearning for more. Yearning for him. 

Joel’s thick fingers plunge into you repeatedly—his other hand gripping your wrists so tight above your head that you’re sure there’s going to be bruises. You shut your eyes tightly, keeping your lips in a thin line and forcing yourself to stay quiet because you know that if you make a sound, it’s only going to fuel him further. 

His eyes stare deeply at you and you’re so wet that Joel’s fingers pump into you with ease. He can see you struggling against his grip and he leans closer, lips near your ear as he whispers huskily. “Lemme hear you, baby.” 

You shake your head in defiance, pulling your lower lip between your teeth. You suck in a breath when his thumb brushes against your clit and a quiet—almost inaudible—moan escapes your lips. 

“Ah, darlin’,” Joel grins, gently nipping at your earlobe. His grip around your wrists loosen just slightly and he’s distracted, yearning to pull more sounds out of you and it gives you just the right moment to push him away. You miss his fingers immediately, a loud squelch echoing the walls when his fingers slip out of you. 

With as much strength as you can muster, you shove him so hard that he stumbles backwards with a grunt. You look around haphazardly, eyes wide, heart beating out of your chest. You’re very well aware that your lower half is bare, but you think maybe you can make a run for it—you just need to grab his keys, run out the door into his truck and drive away. 

You glance over your shoulder and Joel chuckles. He fucking laughs at your poor attempt at running away because he takes three strides in your direction and takes a fistful of your hair. You let out a loud yelp and he’s already quick to bend you over the back of his couch—the edge of it digging into your lower abdomen.

You’re already trying to squirm away, but his grip in your hair tightens and pain rushes through you. You’re about to beg him to stop, to beg him to let you go, but you feel his free hand connect with your backside. The slap reverberates through your entire being and the sound of his hand coming in contact with your ass echoes through his quiet home. 

“You just got here, baby,” he growls—he doesn’t let up, your skin already reddening with each spank. “You can’t leave me yet.”

“I–I–” you mumble and your body reacts automatically, pushing back into him. “Please!” 

“M’gonna have to tie you up, I think,” Joel grins. “Just to make sure you don’t pull that shit again.”

Your ass is beginning to sting and you try to scramble away, but Joel pulls you upright against him. His large hands move to your hips, fingertips digging into you as he uses your body to rub his bulge against you. 

“I think you’re gonna feel real good around me,” he whispers into your hair, hand sliding over your abdomen and down between your legs. “You’re actin’ like you ain’t enjoyin’ this, but you’re so fuckin’ wet f’me.” 

He begins to circle your clit with the pads of his fingers and it causes your back to arch against him, hands darting out to rest on the edge of the couch. A loud moan finally escapes your lips and Joel lets out a low growl at the sound—he wants to hear more of it, craves more of it. 

“From the way you’re squirmin’,” he continues, “Makes me wonder if you’ve been neglected.” 

You shake your head—lying.  

“Oh? Got a boyfriend back home, hm?” 

You shake your head again.

“Poor little thing,” Joel mumbles, head dipping down to the side of your neck as he presses his soft lips against you. It causes a shiver to run through you—his soft lips and his rough beard. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m here now. I’ll take care of ya.”

You’re an absolute mess by the time Joel’s done with you. You’re lying on his mattress, hands bound by rope and attached to the headboard. You’re completely bare for him and he’s brought you to the edge of orgasm too many times to count that you’re practically begging for some release. 

His hands are surprisingly gentle when he settles himself back between your legs and it causes you to flinch. His fingertips brush against your hardened nipples, dark bruises already forming around it from his love bites—he liked to call it. 

“You’re soakin’ my sheets, honey,” he grins. 

“Then let me fucking come!” you retaliate with a huff. Your eyes go wide the minute it leaves your mouth and you’re already trying to scramble away from him, despite being all tied up. 

Joel laughs again. “You’re cute when you’re angry, baby… but let’s not forget who’s in charge here.” 

He finally pulls the ends of his shirt over his head and you lift your own head off the pillow to get a good look at him. There’s no way this fucking man is in his fifties—you shake your head of the thoughts that begin to fill your mind. He has you here held captive and you’re sure that he’s going to kill you once he’s gotten what he needed. 

But you can’t help it. 

Joel’s fucking gorgeous. 

Is this what Stockholm syndrome is? Attracted to your captor? Whatever the fuck it is, you’re squirming impatiently. There’s a dull throb between your legs, an ache, a need for him to give you what you need. 

And he smiles. The same fucking dimple that appeared earlier that day is now in full display because Joel knows he’s got you right where he wants you. 

“Gonna be a good girl f’me? No more fightin’ back?” Joel begins, reaching down to tug his boxers down his strong legs. Once the fabric is gone from his body, your eyes widen once more at the sheer size of him. Girthy. Leaking at the tip. You’re not sure if it’d fit inside of you and Joel notices a flicker of uncertainty flash across your features. “We’ll make it fit, baby. Don’t you worry.”

You whimper quietly in response, feeling him brush his rounded tip against your opening. You try to wiggle your hips down, yearning for more, but he just pulls back and shakes his head. 

“Please,” you plead. You bat your eyes at him, gazing at him under the rim of your eyelashes. It’s a poor attempt at begging, at looking innocent because you look anything but that. 

Joel just lets a small smile line his lips before he pulls away and mounts your upper half. You clear your throat—the size of him this close almost threatening. 

“Don’t be gettin’ shy on me now,” he growls lowly. “Been pleasuring you for a while now, so it’s only fair that you return the favor.” 

“I–I haven’t come yet. Please just let me come and I’ll do anything—”

Joel clicks his tongue and runs the tip of his manhood across your mouth, smirking at the sight of his precome now on your lips. “You ain’t the one in charge here.” He pushes his tip past your lips and lets out a low groan. One hand moves to grip the headboard ahead of him as his other hand keeps a steady grip around the base of his length. “Open wider f’me,” he whispers. 

You have no choice but to obey—parting your lips wider and feeling more of his manhood slide into your mouth. You can feel the corners of your mouth stretch due to his girth. It isn’t long before he pushes further into your mouth, feeling him hit the back of your throat and you gag almost instantly. Tears sting your eyes and he only gives you a few seconds to breathe before he pushes back into you. 

You squeeze your legs together, trying to alleviate some pressure that has been building and building between your legs and the pit of your stomach. You glance up in his direction only to see Joel with his head tilted back, chest and neck exposed, and his eyes completely shut. A quiet groan escapes his lips as he begins to move his hips forward and backward—you swirl your tongue around him, hollow your cheeks and it causes him to moan loudly. 

And fuck, it’s a beautiful sound to come out of him. 

He’s moaning. He’s deep in his own pleasure. 

And it’s all because of you. 

By the time he pulls out of your mouth, Joel’s eyes snap open to look down at you. Lips swollen, tears streaking down the corner of your eyes. You’re so distracted by your desire to come that you don’t realize what could possibly happen once he’s done with you. 

You’re going to die. 

Joel is going to fucking kill you. 

And this cross country road trip you had originally planned was a stupid fucking idea. 

Joel sees a look of fear flash across your features and it only makes him smile, makes his cock jerk at the sight of you. He moves down your body and settles himself between your legs again. 

“Gonna fill you up now,” Joel nods. “And you’re gonna lie there and take it like a good girl.” 

You nod. 

His hand comes up to grip your chin roughly, staring into your eyes. “Say it.” 

“I–I’ll be good. I’ll take it like a good girl and—”

Without warning, Joel pushes fully into you in one stroke. You feel your body jerk upwards at the sudden intrusion and you’re lucky that you’re so wet because while he slides in so easily, you can’t help but feel the painful stretch to give way to his size. Your hands try to wiggle out of the bondage, but the rope just digs further into your skin—it’s like he expertly tied you in a way that the more you struggle, the tighter it gets. 

Joel’s hand moves from your chin to cup your breast, thumb brushing against your nipple as he remains still for a moment. “Feel so good,” he whispers, head dipping lower to brush his nose against yours. He can hear you panting heavily, lips parted slightly. “Like you were made f’me.” 

Then, Joel pulls out to his tip only to slam himself back into you. He repeats this movement multiple times and your moans—the ones that you’ve tried so desperately to hold back—finally escape your lips and mix in with the sounds of his skin slapping against yours. 

The bed rocks against the wall—his thrusts are so rough and you’re sure that your entire body is going to ache for the next few days. 

That is if you’re still alive by then.  

One hand moves to your hip as the other moves to wrap around your neck. He applies a bit of pressure to cut off your oxygen and you gasp, eyes wide as you stare up at him. 

Begging. 

Pleading. 

Not for him to stop… 

…but for more. 

Joel grins at that and continues his thrusts, the sensation of your walls sliding along his length only urging him closer and closer to release. He can feel the tightness in the pit of his stomach begin to unravel and he pulls out, not yet wanting to be done with you. 

When Joel does pull out of you, he releases his grip around your throat and hears you take one deep breath. You’re breathing heavily and he looks between your legs—so fucking wet, so swollen and he taps your clit gently with the tip of his manhood only to see you squirm. 

You’re sensitive, he thinks to himself with a grin. 

“Joel,” you whisper. At this rate, you don’t care if you die. Having him bring you on the edge of an orgasm only to stop is worse, you’re sure of it. 

“Gonna keep you here forever,” Joel says with a dark gaze. “You’re mine now. You understand?” 

You clear your throat and nod slowly—anything to get him to make you come. “Y–Yes, yours.” 

“Doesn’t sound too convincing.” 

“Fuck, Joel! Please,” you beg. “I don’t care what you do to me, please just let me come…” 

Joel chuckles—dark, sinister. He leans down and lightly pecks your lips before he climbs off the bed to look at you from top to bottom. “Like I said, you ain’t the one in charge here.” 

Your eyes stare at him and you notice the way his manhood stands fully erect, glistening with your arousal. He follows your gaze and smirks, reaching down to tug on it. “This what you want?” 

You nod. “Please.” 

“So if I untie you, you gonna be a good girl and obey?” Joel contemplates, still stroking the base of his length. His hand doesn’t feel as good as being inside of you and he almost loses his resolve. 

But he doesn’t. 

Joel’s patient. 

“Y–Yes, please,” you plead once more. 

“Love hearin’ you beg, darlin’,” he grins. Joel slowly reaches over and begins to untie the rope around your wrists but he makes sure that his attention is focused on you. He needs to make sure that you’re not going to run again. 

Once the rope is finally undone, you roll your wrists and touch the bruises around it. You flinch and then look up at him—eyes still pleading. 

“One wrong move and I’m tyin’ you up again. You hear me?” Joel growls, seeing you move to sit up. You nod in agreement and he tugs on your ankle, pulling you to the edge of the bed with such force that you let you a quiet yelp. 

Joel flips you onto your abdomen and grabs your hips, lifting you up so that you’re now on all fours on his mattress. He comes up behind you and slides into you with warning—again. 

A loud moan escapes your lips and you fall forwards—cheek resting against his mattress, eyes fully shut tight, and your hands gripping the sheets so tightly that your knuckles turn white. 

“Feel even tighter this way,” Joel points out with a grunt. 

Your toes curl at his rough assault against you. It’s like he’s possessed, so territorial and so animalistic that his thrusts drive you further into the mattress. You wanted this, but you can’t help the pain that shoots through you at his size. Joel’s by far the biggest you’ve ever had and it wasn’t like you had a healthy sex life before this. 

“Fuck!” You scream, now trying to scramble away from him because it’s too much. He’s edged you for too long that you’re sure you can’t even get there—your body is humming and you can feel the familiar sensation in the pit of your stomach. You’re close and Joel knows. 

He laughs and grips your hips, pulling back onto him with such force that you arch your back. Joel grabs your arms and pins them at your lower back as he pulls your body forward and backward against him. He glances down and sees just how wet you are—the hair at his base completely damp from your arousal. 

“You wanted to come… then fuckin’ come,” Joel groans, pulling you up against his chest. He grunts into your ear as he keeps your arms pinned at your lower back. His other hand reaches around and dips lower to begin circling your clit against the pads of his fingertips. 

You moan so loud that it echoes throughout his home. Your head tilts back against his shoulder and he drags his teeth across the side of your neck—both your bodies now covered in a thin sheet of sweat. 

“J–Joel, I–,” a loud sob escapes your lips when you finally reach your orgasm. Your body shakes against his own and his thrusts don’t let up—still hammering into you from behind and using your slickness and tightened walls to bring himself closer to his own release. 

“Fuck,” he groans against you, releasing your arms and pinning you back onto the mattress. His hips sling against your own—Joel is literally fucking you into the mattress and you’re already so fucking sensitive that you try to move away. 

Fuck him. If he wanted to deny you of your orgasm, you can do the same to him. 

But it’s no use. Joel’s so much stronger and his large hands grip your hips so tightly that you feel pain from it. 

“S’cute,” he says in between thrusts. “Thinkin’ you can run away.” Joel grunts lowly, chasing his own orgasm. “Can promise you one thing, baby…” He slams into you once more and releases his warm seed into you—paints your tight and wet walls with his come. He leans forward, pushing further into you as his tip kisses your cervix. “You ain’t ever leavin’ me.” 

He presses soft kisses along your shoulder before he pulls out, watching with a smirk to see his come trickle out of you and down your legs. 

“You’re stranded, darlin’. Ain’t no one comin’ to save you,” Joel grins. “And I ain’t even done with you yet.”

[koshkamartell]

Kept Woman

summary: AU one shot. Your older boyfriend Joel knows what's best for you, even if you don't agree.

warnings: unspecified age gap, possessive!Joel, low key abusive!Joel, toxic behaviour, gaslighting, reader has poor self esteem, degradation, dubcon PIV, unprotected PIV, creampie, dirty talk, daddy kink, slut shaming, breeding kink, mild dissociation.

"You woke up with a fuckin' attitude today," Joel grumbles as he heaves himself into the driver's seat of his truck. He doesn't look your way as he slams the door shut and starts the ignition.

"You'd have an attitude too, if someone else kept you up half the night with their snoring," you snipe from the front passenger seat.

Joel's loud snoring has been a point of contention in your relationship for quite some time. He always snores, although it has never been as bad as it was last night. Most of the time you can subdue the snoring with a couple jabs of your elbow into his side, or a few light smacks on his shoulder, but last night nothing seemed to rouse him. The maddening snoring was unrelenting as it sawed through your eardrums, each inhale and exhale of Joel's breath bringing you closer to a fit of rage.

You ended up seeking refuge on the couch around midnight, angry at having to abandon your luxurious king bed for the far inferior comfortability of the living room sofa. As a result you are understandably irritable this morning.

You have noticed a pattern to Joel's noisy nocturnal breathing; it seems the nights of heavy, obnoxious snoring come after a long day at work, when he returns home extra tired and ready to collapse in bed. You know he's been putting in overtime at the latest project for his contracting company. You appreciate that he works hard. But if you have to deal with another round of cacophonous snorting then you will surely go crazy.

You see Joel scoff and rolls his eyes in your peripheral vision but choose to ignore it. He always thinks you're being dramatic or complaining about nothing. You flip the sun visor down to use the mirror before rifling through your handbag for your lipstick.

"For fuck sake," Joel growls suddenly, slamming the visor shut. He glares at you and jerks the gear stick into reverse. "How many goddamn times have I told you? I can't fuckin' see that side when I'm reversin' and you got that thing down."

"Maybe you need to get some glasses if you can't see," you quip nonchalantly while twisting off the lid of your lipstick from its tube. "Old man," you add half under your breath before applying your make up.

"Oh yeah, you're so funny," Joel snaps sarcastically. The engine revs and the tires squeal as he quickly reverses out of the driveway. He grips the top of the steering wheel with one of his large hands, the other resting tense on the gear stick. He usually lays that one on your thigh while he drives, for he's always eager to touch you, to reassure himself that what he owns is close by.

But today neither of you touch. There is no air of affection between you. The atmosphere in the truck is thick with tension and punctuated by sour, fractious silence. It lasts for five gruelling minutes before you decide that you can't take it any longer.

You reach over and push the button on the stereo and the radio comes crackling to life with a crooning, old fashioned country song. You make a small noise of disgust in the back of your throat and press another button to scan through the different stations. You are trying to search for something more palatable, something more upbeat to lift you out of this shitty mood.

"The fuck are you doin'?" Joel mutters, his eyes glued to the road ahead of him. "Quit messin' around with my radio. I like the station it was on."

"Come on, Joel. I don't want to listen to that crap." You huff. When you jump over to the next channel the speakers trumpet out a fast paced, beat driven track. Yes!

"Too bad. Ain't your truck, now is it, sweetheart?" Joel's thick fingers reach out and click the radio off without so much as a glance your way. You stare at him, half in surprise and half in rage. There is a self satisfied manner to his posture now, his shoulders a little more relaxed, his brow no longer pulled into a frown. There is even a hint of smug smirk on his mouth. He's cocky, the way he asserts his dominance over you, even through such small gestures. Sometimes you wonder if he does these things to antagonise you.

"Yeah, well, maybe I'll get my own car so I can play my own music," you snap, crossing your arms and glaring out the passenger window.

"Oh yeah?" Joel chuckles and shakes his head. "And just how are you gonna do that, baby? With the measly pay you get from waitressin' at that hokey little diner?"

He grins to himself, like the conversation is an amusing joke. You hate it when he is so condescending. His atittude acts as a reminder that he's so much older than you, exceedingly more financially stable, and undeniably more wise and savvy than you could ever be.

Your cheeks heat with embarrassment. It isn't the first time Joel has ridiculed your job. He's often pestering you to quit the diner to get a cushy receptionist position at his company instead. He says it's more respectable for your resume, although you suspect it is more so Joel can keep a closer eye on you than anything else.

"I like my job," you retort quietly, staring at the passing scenery outside your window. You hear Joel hum an acknowledgement before he clears his throat.

"I know, honey. I just don't get why," he says, tone considerably softer now. He glances over to you and you can feel the weight of his gaze, you but you don't meet it. "You could be earnin' atleast double what you make if you came to work with me."

The truth is that you genuinely do enjoy your job. You like keeping busy and being a part of the close knit team that operate the place. You cherish the rapport you've built with the regular costumers and you thrive on the praise they give you. Leaving your position would be giving up your safe space, somewhere where you belong and feel valued. It would be forfeiting your only remaining slice of independence.

You don't share any of this with Joel.

"They need me," you say in a small voice. "That's what Lenny always says."

Lenny is your boss, a funny and kind older gentleman who acts like a surrogate uncle to you. He often jokes that he has been managing the diner longer than you've been alive. He has always been a source of support for you, as have the other waitresses and line cooks.

Joel snorts derisively. "They don't need you, honey. They just use ya. Lenny wouldn't think twice about replacin' you if he had to."

"That's not true," you mumble weakly. You know what Joel says is not true but there is still a tiny niggling doubt in your mind that perhaps Joel is right. He usually is, after all.

He puts his large palm over your knee where your skirt has ridden up and strokes the bare skin there. The touch of his thick, calloused hand feels possessive. "Trust me darlin', some other girl would be fillin' your shoes before you even step foot outta that shithole."

His tone isn't cruel; he sounds matter of fact and concerned, paternal in his conviction. You sigh softly and don't bother to argue back. You don't speak for the rest of the few minutes drive to your work. The tension in the truck lingers, a sense of unease that makes you feel on edge, but Joel seems totally unaffected by it. He hums, carefree and seemingly oblivious, one hand on the top of the wheel and the other still on your knee. Always so in control, always so confident.

You stare out the window with a vacant expression, a myriad of thoughts passing through your mind.

How much money have I saved now? Will Joel be angry if I work the double shift on Saturday? I need the money. Should I tell him about the invite to Paul's party now or later? My sister texted again but I just ignored it - Joel would say I keep inviting drama into my life if I text back, but I feel bad.

You don't realise how quickly the drive passes until the rundown Lenny's sign comes into view and bursts your train of thought like a bubble. As Joel pulls into the parking lot you realise just how eager you are to don your little apron and turn off all the thoughts and emotions you don't want to deal with. Joel parks the truck and you have to fight the urge to jump out and scurry straight through the diner door.

"I'll see ya tonight, baby," he murmers, leaning over to plant a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth, the scruff of his moustache tickling your lips. You flash him a little smile and slip out of the truck.

The diner was busier than usual today. The steady trickles of people meandering through to get a bite to eat or something to quench their thirst make it impossible for you to even get a decent lunch break. You and Teresa bustled around the tables serving endless cups of coffee and milkshakes alongside stacks of plates laden with burgers, fries, sandwiches and all day breakfast specials. The lunch time rush was so chaotic that you thought the line cook would have a heart attack.

You didn't mind being run off your feet - it made the noise in your head turn into low level static, a kind of vibration that silenced the anxiety and allowed you to simply exist. Working as a team, being surrounded by friends, helped you to breathe more clearly, and by the end of the day you felt a pleasant ache in your cheeks from smiling so much.

The flow of patrons only began to dwindle once the end of your shift rolled around. The sun was beginning to set, pretty pink and orange hues splashed over the western horizon, signalling the end of the day. You stand outside the diner around the side of the building and share a smoke with Tony, one of the linecooks. He's an older man around Joel's age, with a charming smile and eyes that seem to twinkle. He's always affable and chatty, a perfect gentleman.

"You goin' to Paul's party?" He asks as he takes an inhale of his cigarette. He leans against the brick wall and passes the rolled cigarette to you. You accept it and take a drag.

"I dunno," you reply with a shrug of your shoulder, exhaling a winding curl of smoke from your nose. "Not sure what I'm doing that night."

Tony's mouth quirks into a half smile and he nods, something playful and knowing in his expression. You raise an eyebrow at him and cock your head to the side curiously.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Tony holds his hand out and you pass the cigarette back to him. "Nothing," he replies casually. "Just wondering if it's that or if it's because that boyfriend of yours won't let you."

You wrap an arm around your middle and scoff, but the noise comes out sounding more defensive than you would have liked. "He's got nothing to do with it," you mutter, kicking at the pavement with the toe of your shoe.

Tony nods sagely and pops the smoke inbetween his lips. "Uh-huh," he dismisses smoothly, "well anyway, me and Teresa are goin', if you wanna hitch a lift with us."

"Thanks. I'll let you know."

Less than a minute later you spy Joel's truck cruise down the road and turn into the parking lot, the engine rumbling loudly amidst the muffled sound of country music vibrating through the windows. The arrival of his vehicle acts as an unspoken cue to end your conversation with Tony. Tony seems to understand; he flicks the butt of the cigarette onto the ground and crushes it with the toe of his boot before shooting you a smile.

"G'night," he murmers. He wipes his palms on his apron and steps around you to walk back into the diner. Joel pulls up a few parking spaces from where you stand, further toward the back of the building and away from the diner entrance. You stroll over to the truck and smile when he opens the driver side door. The twangy music reverberates from the speakers inside the truck and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

"Hey baby," Joel greets you with his smooth Texan drawl. He switches off the engine before unclicking his seat belt, then hauls himself out of the truck.

"Why are you getting out?" You ask with a frown. "I've clocked off, let's go home."

He smirks and snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you close against his front. He presses a kiss to the top of your head. "Couldn't wait to have you in my arms, that's all," he murmurs. "Missed ya today."

You wrap your arms around his middle and lean your head against his chest. "Missed you too."

Joel tucks a stand of stray hair behind your ear and then strokes his thumb along your jawline. "Yeah?" He purrs. "You missed your daddy?"

You nod your head and nuzzle your nose into the soft, comforting material of his flannel. He chuckles softy and cups the side of your jaw in his palm. "How about we get goin' home and you can show me just how much you missed me, hmm?"

"Mmhmm," you whisper, letting your body relax into his embrace. You feel your eyes drifting closed. You are so tired and your feet ache. The thought of going home with Joel sounds perfect; he'll choose a movie and pick up some takeout and you two will snuggle up on the couch and retreat away from the world.

Joel slowly spins around so that your back presses against the side of his truck. You giggle softly and tilt your head to look up at him. He gazes down at you intently, a glint of hunger swirling in his brown eyes as he scans your face.

His large hand slides from your jaw back to the nape of your neck. "You're so pretty, baby," he cooes. His fingers thread through the strands of hair at the base of your skull, gently at first, before he closes his fist and pulls your hair taut in his grip. You wince at the sting of your scalp. "So pretty. And just for me, right?"

Joel suddenly captures your mouth in an impassioned kiss, pushing his tongue past your lips with a dominanting force that almost feels desperate, as if he wants to consume you. You feel overwhelmed by the intensity but you let it happen, allowing your mouth to be claimed by him. You can taste the coffee and mint on his breath, while the faint mix of his cologne, sweat and cigarette smoke fills your nostrils - it intoxicates your senses, making you slightly dizzy, and you sag back against the car.

Joel's other hand squeezes your hip possessively. You're pinned between him and the truck and it makes you feel small and vulnerable, more or less trapped by his solid frame. He slots his thigh inbetween your legs and you feel the buckle of his belt dig into your stomach.

You wait until you are struggling to breath before you finally press your palms against his broad chest and push, although you're far too weak to actually get him to stop. He eventually relents and breaks the kiss, though he keeps his face close to yours.

"Make it so fuckin' hard to keep my hands off you," he mutters, nuzzling his aquiline nose against yours. You let out a breathless giggle and fiddle with the collar of his shirt.

"Let's go home, it's been a long day," you offer. Joel presses a light kiss on the tip of your nose and grins, his warm breath beating over your cheeks.

"Not yet," he whispers, "can't stop myself, baby. You already got me so fuckin' hard." He grinds his erection against your crotch, his hardened cock straining the material of his jeans. "Feel that, honey? Feel how fuckin' crazy you make me?"

You feel a tug of panic within your tummy. He has that telltale tone in his voice; gravelly with lust, but with something dangerous simmering below the insistent ardor of his affection. It is how he sounds when he wants something.

And Joel always gets what he wants.

"Joel...," you murmer hesitantly, trying to keep the nervousness from cracking through your voice. "Not here, please not now. Let's go home first."

You're grateful that Joel has collected you from the back corner of the parking lot, just far enough to be partly secluded from traffic and other people walking around. But you are still less than sixty feet from the inside of the diner where your coworkers and boss are currently still working.  

"Just for a minute, baby, just need to feel you real quick." Joel reaches down and hitches up the hem of your skirt to dip his hand underneath. The caress of his calloused hand gliding up to the apex of your thighs causes a shiver to crawl up your spine. His touch always feels so good, so enticing, and when his fingers find the crotch of your panties a gasp escapes your lips.

"Joel," you whisper anxiously, clutching to the lapel of his jacket. He presses his fingers to your clit, groaning with pained lust when he feels the damp material of your panties.

"Fuck," he breathes. He fingertips begin to draw light circles over the bud, immediately eliciting a spark of pleasure to flood through your lower belly. "Just needed to feel you, sweetheart. Been thinkin' of you all day."

Joel leans down and kisses you once again, tongue slipping into your mouth and lapping at yours with fervid hunger. You feel your hips buck involuntarily, your body suddenly craving his touch, greedy for him to continue his minstrations.

He rubs your clothed clit with expert dexterity, the pressure steady but just light enough that your climax builds quite quickly. You hate how quickly he can unravel you, how effortlessly he seems to command your pleasure; but the blossoming ecstasy seems to rob you of your shame, making you forget just where you are.

All you can focus on is Joel.

Your heartbeat thrums in your chest and your breath comes in short, heavy exhalations through your nose. You feel your pussy flutter with electric pulses - you're close.

So fucking close.

Then it stops.

Joel withdraws his hand from your heat and loosens his other from your hair at the same time. He breaks away from the kiss and shuffles his boots backward a step, pulling out of your grasp.

What the fuck?

You lean forward in an embarrassing attempt to chase his lips, and whine in frustrated confusion.

"Joel what are you doing?" You pout, scowling at him.

He ignores you, glancing down as he hurriedly unbuckles his belt and unbuttons his jeans. You watch as he takes hold of his hard cock and pulls it out from his underwear, foreskin retracting to reveal the fat head already wet with precum.

Your eyes widen in shock and your head swivels from side to side, nervously scanning for any sign of someone walking by. "Joel!" You hiss. "Are you insane?!

"Sssh," Joel croons, not bothering to look up at you. "Can't help it, baby, you're driving me crazy." He gives a lazy pump of his cock and steps between your legs again, his heavy boots nudging your feet apart to widen your stance. "Come on honey, be good for me."

"No, Joel, not here, please," you protest hurriedly, but he isn't listening to you. His massive hand tugs your skirt upwards, exposing your legs to the cool evening air and the warm metal of the truck behind you. Joel forcefully slots his body inbetween your thighs and impatiently yanks your underwear to the side, your slick arousal smearing over your lips. Your panic increases when you feel the heat of his cock press against the opening of your pussy.

He won't actually fuck you here, will he?

"Joel!" You plead, smacking your hands against his chest helplessly. You've got to get him to stop, to wake him out of this horny stupor. Someone could pass by any second and see what's happening. You'll be humiliated if anyone finds you in such a compromising position, but you will surely die from mortification if someone from work spies you. "Please."

A low growl of annoyance rumbles from Joel's chest and his hand comes to squeeze your hip, not tight enough to hurt you but firm enough to make you stop moving. He glares at you now, his pupils blown wide with predatory desire, his jaw ticking. You whimper and let your hands fall to your sides.

"I ain't askin'," Joel warns in a husky whisper. "Open up, little girl."

There's no use fighting it.

You basically agreed to it anyway, letting him touch you like that just a moment ago.

You stay silent as you acquiesce, spreading your legs further and hitching one up to sit over his hip. "That's it," he purrs lowly, "let me in."

The stretch of the crown of his cock breaching your hole makes you grimace in discomfort. He is big - the biggest you've ever had - and it always hurts when he first ruts into you. You're wet but no where near enough to facilitate a smooth entry, especially because he hasn't worked you open on his fingers beforehand either.

He groans with satisfaction when he slides into your pussy in short stuttering bursts, hand on your hip gripping you tight in place. You scrunch your eyes shut and bite down on your bottom lip to try repress the pained moans threatening to spill out from you.

"You're tight, honey," Joel murmers. "You gotta relax." His other hand comes up to cup your cheek in his large palm tenderly. "Breathe through it, come on."

He tilts his head down to press a light kiss to your hairline and the scratch of his scruffy beard prickles your skin. He is only halfway inside of you and the sting of intrusion seems to only intensify; maybe your body is rejecting Joel, so conscious of your shame and unwillingness that your insides are refusing to adjust.

You remember the first time you and Joel had fooled around, how intimidated you were when you had discovered just how well endowed he was. *"Don't worry, baby, I'll make it fit," he had said with a chuckle.

And that's what he was going to do now - make it fit, whether or not you were ready for it.

You don't even get the chance to regulate your breathing before Joel drives his hips forward and feeds his length all the way inside you. Your mouth falls open and a choked whine claws its way up your throat, and on reflex your hands ball the flannel of his shirt into your fists.

You're so unbelievably full.

"Good girl," Joel praises you in a velvety mumble that makes your clit unexpectedly throb. "Knew you could take it."

You can't help but preen on the inside at the tiny scrap of approval. You feel your pussy clench and unclench around him. You whimper and flutter your eyelids open, your dizzying vision settling on the tanned skin of Joel's strong neck, the veins by his jugular. You fight the urge to latch onto the spot and sink your teeth into him, to do something to bite back at him.

His hips start to saw back and forth with steady momentum, slowly punching his fat girth in and out of you. The burning sensation eventually dulls but the feeling of your insides parting continues to bombard you, bordering on unbearable, and it makes you mewl pathetically.

"Never get sick of splittin' this pussy open. Love seein' you cry on my cock." Joel plants a sloppy kiss on the side of your temple, seeming to relish the taste of the salty sweat of your skin.

Joel's appetite for sex has always been pretty voracious; it isn't uncommon for him to sneak up on you in the kitchen and bend you over the counter to fuck you while you're trying to cook, or for you to wake up in the mornings with his tongue lapping at your cunt. It still surprises you that a man his age has such insatiable desire, but you really can't complain, not when he's able to coax orgasm after orgasm from your body so effortlessly.

But right now you're desperately wishing he would atleast try to control himself, that he wouldn't let his animalistic compulsion cloud his sense of rationality and make him so reckless. Joel is usually a conservative kind of man, no nonsense and a tad grumpy in temperament, who would probably sneer in disgust at the idea of a man fucking his woman outside the privacy of their home. Those who know him would never in their wildest dreams guess that Joel would do such a thing - such debauchery is far more characteristic of his younger brother, Tommy.

But with you it seems Joel loses all sense of conventionalism.

You wouldn't have ever imagined him doing this, either, considering how possessive and protective he is. But you've learnt that Joel seems to foresake his self righteous attitude whenever it suits him, and more often than not when it benefits him.

Maybe you should've tried harder to persuade him to stop, to take you home instead.

"You daddy's little cock slut?" Joel rumbles in your ear. His hand leaves its bruising hold on your hip to slide over your mound. You feel the rough pad of his thumb press on your clit and your legs twitch at the contact.

He starts to swipe deft circles over the bud and soon a buzzing wave of bliss reignites once more throughout your belly. You can't help but moan, the uncomfortable sensation of being forced open finally dissipating enough to allow you to feel a degree of pleasure.

He maintains the momentum of his hips rolling against yours as he rubs your clit; soon your body is overtaken with the barrage of Joel's movements and the ecstasy he imposes upon you, and you find yourself going slack against the truck panel. The shame and anxiety you felt begins to fade as you surrender to Joel.

Your legs tremble and he senses your strength draining, always so attuned to your body and the telltale signs of your approaching orgasm. He gives your cheek a light slap.

"Stay with me, baby," Joel commands."Hold on to me, I got you."

You obey, your hands feebly grabbing at the meat on his flanks to help keep you steady. He nods down at you, his fat cock still plunging in and out of your pussy, all while he massages your clit. He plays your body so expertly, like an instrument, like he knows you inside and out, knows that he's the only man who can take you apart so deliciously. Your mind starts to feel like it's floating the closer your orgasm creeps up.

"That's it, honey. You love this cock so fuckin' much, don't you? Joel grits, nuzzling his nose against your forehead. His accent is like honey to your ears, thick and dripping with lust as he whispers filth. "Greedy little pussy can't ever say no to gettin' fucked, can she?"

You whine brokenly in response, breaths coming out in short pants. You're so close, the residual pressure of your previously unfulfilled orgasm heightening every punch of Joel's cock, every circle of his digit on your clit. He continues to speak, praising you with a silky string of adoration, good girl and the best pussy I ever had dripping from his mouth.

Your orgasm reaches its peak and a swell of intense bliss blossoms from the depths of your loins to surge all throughout your body. Your pussy contracts and spasms, a trickle of juice squirting down Joel's shaft and over his balls. You have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from crying out, causing a drop of blood to bloom out over your tongue. Your fingernails are close to tearing Joel's shirt, surely leaving indents on his skin even through the material.

"Yeah, that's it baby, cum on this cock," Joel rumbles with satisfaction.

He fucks you through your orgasm to prolong your high, but you quickly reach the point of overstimulation; you plead for him to stop, your voice hoarse and tired, devoid of strength. He continues for a few seconds longer, just to tease you and make you squirm on his dick, but then he stops.

"Good girl, so good for me," he whispers, planting another wet open kiss against your temple, his mouth hot and slobbering.

You're exhausted now and just want to sleep, the post orgasm delirium settling over your mind and body like a thick cloud.

But Joel isn't finished with you yet.

He sets both his massive hands on your hips and begins to fuck into you with renewed vigor. It rips you from the alluring pull of drowsiness and you squeal at the unexpected brutish pace he sets, the force and tempo verging on bestial, like he's purposely punishing you. The edge of your underwear grinds uncomfortably against your labia and chafes the sensitive skin there.

Joel uses his grip to pull you up and down on his cock like a ragdoll, a toy whose sole purpose is to be used for his pleasure. The euphoria from your orgasm has completely disappeared now, replaced with sharp stabs of pain from where the head of his cock kisses your cervix. You grit your teeth and claw at his sides, desperately wishing it was over.

He's so deep inside you that you swear he's stabbing into your stomach. Each stroke squeezes an involuntary guttural moan from the bottom of your lungs.

"Yeah, that's right," Joel growls. "Let everybody hear you whinin' like a bitch on my cock."

You are suddenly flooded with the mortifying remembrance of your surroundings. You aren't in your cosy bed in the house you share with Joel - you're still in the public parking lot by your work place, being screwed by your much older boyfriend. Burning shame and humiliation pour over you like liquid flames, saturating and scorching every inch of your skin.

You feel dirty. Cheap.

Like he's reading your mind, Joel leans down to whisper in your ear with chilling comtemptuousness. "Lettin' me rail you in a fuckin' parking lot, like some kinda whore."

You're caught off guard by the venom of his words; a tiny gasp escapes your mouth and your fingers instinctively loosen their grasp on his back. He doesn't seem fazed by the change in your body language, too engrossed in chasing his own high to perceive how deflated you've abruptly become.

Or maybe he just doesn't care.

"Yeah. Gotta be a real shameless slut to get fucked like this. Surprised you ain't got a load stuffed in you already."

You stare at the tanned expanse of his neck once more, your eyes unblinking like you're in a trance. The prickling of tears sting at the back of your eyeballs. You'd never cheat on Joel, would never have sex with someone else. Why is he saying these things?

Your stomach feels sick. You hadn't wanted to do this in the first place - it was Joel who seduced you to. But still, he's right, isn't he? You are letting him fuck you against his truck and you aren't even telling him to stop.

Like it's just part of your job.

"'S what you are," Joel croons harshly, "aint nothin' but a dirty whore cummin' on her daddy's cock. A real brainless bitch only good for spreadin' her legs."

Joel has always been the more dominant partner during sex with you. It comes so naturally to him, slipping into an authoritative role in the bedroom as easily as he does in day to day life as a manager of his own construction company. He does not relinquish control in any area of his life.

But this feels different. There is something prowling right below the surface of this whole situation that makes you feel uneasy; it is in the barbed edge to his speech, the uncaring movements of his hips, the animalistic heaving of his breaths. A feeling that he wants to hurt you.

"Bet you'd let me fuck your ass right now too." Joel pants in your ear, words slurring slightly from the fervid of his own gratification, like he's drunk. "Bet you'd fuckin' love that, lettin' me bust a nut in your little asshole."

You feel your heart crack a little at the cruelty of his tongue, how easily they seem to slither from his mouth like a serpent. You don't speak back.

"I'm gonna keep all your holes filled," he mutters. "Make sure you're drippin' all the time. That what you want, baby?"

Through the haze of your pain you can detect the telltale throb of his cock, the way his hips move in a more frenzied, sloppy rhythm. You know his body just as well as he knows yours; he's about to cum, and when you feel the momentary swelling of his girth you brace yourself for his climax. His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips painfully.

"Take it, bitch, take it all."

Joel slams his cock deep inside your pussy one last time before his cum erupts over your walls and cervix, filling you to the brink with his milky spend. He moans and grunts in your ear, his chest heaving against your frame, crushing you further into the panel of the truck, crumpling your far more delicate and smaller body.

He pulls out of you swiftly and you are immediately hit by the aching emptiness left inside you. You scramble to adjust your panties and to pull your skirt down, and your balance teeters dangerously. Joel is quick to catch you from falling to the ground, wrapping his hands around your upper arms to keep you upright.

"Whoa, honey, easy." He soothes, soulful coffee brown eyes darting all over your face with concern. His expression is so soft, a complete juxtaposition to the predatory scowl he wore just minutes ago, like he's transformed into a totally different man. "You okay?"

You nod your head, eyes fluttering open and shut as your brain fights against the foggy film of dissociation permeating your thought process. Are you okay? You aren't really sure.

"Mhm," you murmer anyway, almost inaudibly.

"Oh, my perfect girl," he whispers softly, so reverent and loving. "I love you so much." He tilts your chin up with his thumb and plants a tender kiss on your lips; you can't help but melt into it, like a kitten desperate for warmth and affection. The mist surrounding your senses abates quickly, leaving you staring up at Joel with mirrored adoration in your eyes. He strokes your hair and gives you a small smile, the dimple in his side visible for a second.

"I love you too." You preen and reach up to stroke at the patchy beard along his jaw, marvelling at just how handsome he looks. You want to savour this moment, wishing to memorise just how beautiful the intimacy between you and Joel feels right now.

He loves you. You love him. That's all you need. It's all you want.

"Come on honey, let's go home and get somethin' to eat," he tells you, stepping away and making quick work of buckling his belt back up.

You nod in agreement, getting ready to haul yourself up into the truck when your mind suddenly snaps alert to the lack of weight on your shoulder. You whine in annoyance as you realise the mistake you made. "Shit! I forgot my purse inside. Ugh."

"Well go on and get it," Joel drawls, laidback and unbothered. "I'll wait for ya." He gives your ass an encouraging pat. "Hurry along."

You sigh dramatically and turn around to go back inside. He folds his arms and leans back against the truck, eyeing the sway of your ass while he tries to conceal the conceited triumph radiating through his chest. Yeah, he knows what he pulled was an asshole move, but it had to be done. You've been getting a little too mouthy for his liking, a little too friendly with your coworkers. And once he knocks you up you won't have any more excuses to keep working at this shitty diner. You will be at home, barefoot and pregnant, with no where else to go and no one else to rely on. You'll be marked for life. A kept woman.

He smiles a little to himself, content with the knowledge that as you make the walk back to the diner the slow gush of his semen will be creeping into the gusset of your panties.

credit to @saradika-graphics for the divider

[aurorawritestoescape]

A STEP INTO HELL

Stepdad!Joel Miller x f!reader || Word count: 3k

Summary: after you move into his house, Joel finds himself possessed by the idea of having you. Trying to quench his lustful thirst he decides to get his hands on your nudes. To his surprise he finds something even better.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, step-cest, Joel’s pov, dub con but reader’s into it, legal age gap, dark!Joel, perv!Joel, obsessed!joel, darkish!reader, unprotected piv/dvp (wrap it up), sex toy usage, blackmail, sex audio recording, creampie, degradation, slutshaming, praise kink, daddy kink, mention of f/m masturbation/f!oral/anal/food play, slapping (1), cum eating, swearing.

A/n: huge thank you to @megangovier for this ask and the idea!💖 I had a blast working on this story. Hope you’ll like it, lovely!🌸 Kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing😘 Dividers by @/enchanthings and @/saradika-graphics 💕

MASTERLIST || SERIES MASTERLIST || more step family naughtiness

Joel wasn’t a good man. He wasn’t moral, ethical or rational. The only thing Joel seemed to be recently was horny. Horny for his stepdaughter.

It wasn’t a gradual obsession. Not at all. It took over him suddenly and overwhelmingly. You had lived with your dad after your parents’ divorce, but then moved into Joel’s house to stay closer to your college. He had barely seen you before and then you were in his house all the fucking time.

Was his attraction out of the blue? Not really. You were a hot young woman. Every man’s dream. But the maddening desire took Joel by surprise. Like a tsunami it put his life upside down, taking away any sense he might have had before. The lust for you was like a poison, coursing through his veins, pumping blood to his big cock more often than it was expected for a man of his age.

In hopes of getting rid of the toxic passion, Joel jerked off regularly like a horny teenager. He watched tons of porn, choosing the ones with women that looked like you. To his distress, it seemed to entice him even more. Like a dog he couldn’t stop salivating every time he saw you.

Joel would often get lost in his thoughts at the breakfast table, sitting right in front of you and thinking about the shape of your pussy. ‘Did you have a little clit hidden behind your lips or could he see it right away if he took your shorts and panties off at that moment? Did you shave your cunt or could he tug you lightly by your soft pubes?’ He’d be happy with anything, a pussy was a pussy, especially if it belonged to a sweet thing like you. He couldn’t help but daydream of eating you out on the table right next to the pancakes your mother had made, your sweet pussy served with maple syrup on top, or melted butter all over your folds. He’d slurp it happily with your slick and cum and chase it with his black coffee. Breakfast of champions!

Joel ground his teeth. He had to keep himself from acting on his desires. Not because of your mom, fuck that nagging bitch! His dick barely reacted to her anymore. Divorce was what really terrified Joel. He’d hate to deal with all of that— too much paperwork, too much hustle. That was the last thing Joel needed.

The first thing was you. After a month of pumping his cock after every encounter with his stepdaughter, Joel got really frustrated and decided to act. He worked out a plan. Surely you had some juicy selfies on your laptop, he thought, so one day he knocked on your bedroom door with a secret motive to get his big paws on them.

You sweet voice let him in.

Joel stepped into your bedroom, his brows furrowed, the shoulders square, trying to intimidate you with his steel gaze and dominant tone so you’d agree faster.

“I need your laptop. Mine broke.”

You were lying on your bed with your phone in your hands, wearing your tiny shorts and a crop top and his dirty mind immediately drew him a picture of your naked body splayed and offered to him, head hanging off the side of the bed with his cock plunging in and out of your mouth. He could bet he’d be able to feel his shlong inside your tight throat. He’d probably come so fast like that and discharge his cum right into your belly. Bon appetite, baby!

“Hmm,” you hummed, blinking at him. You seemed hesitant and it made Joel even more excited—you definitely had something to hide. His jeans got strained with the might of his growing dick.

“C’mon. I’ll just pay the bills and give it back to ya.”

“Oh. I don’t know. Ehm—ok.”

As soon as you agreed Joel snatched the laptop off your desk and went to the master bedroom. His wife was working late that night so it was a perfect opportunity to find your nudes and jerk off to his heart's content.

Joel plunged on the bed and began his horny search. Let’s help Joel find his stepdaughter’s nudes!

Are they in this folder? — No!

That one? — Look better!

Here? — Fuck, no!

He was growing hopeless. No way a girl with an ass like yours wouldn’t want to have it in a photo. Your perfect tits were asking to be jerked off to. So where the hell were the goods?

He was searching everywhere until he stumbled upon a folder with a few tracks. He didn’t care about them at first but his thick finger accidentally double clicked one of them and to his surprise he heard his voice.

“No, wait— fuck—spread wider—yes—yeahhh.“

He increased the volume and his jaw dropped. Yes, he was sure now. It was his voice.

‘When was it recorded?’ Joel asked himself, listening to his groans. Suddenly it dawned on him. It was a couple of weeks ago when he was fucking his wife. His grunts and growls were the only audible noises, which was not surprising -your mother was always silent like a corpse when he was fucking her.

Yet Joel’s voice could be heard clearly. He listened to a few tracks and all of them were recordings of his voice— him talking to his clients on the phone, him discussing the last game with Tommy.

‘What a dirty slut!’ flashed in Joel’s mind. He wasn’t thinking anymore. With his cock already hard, Joel knew what to do and acted immediately.

He rushed back into your bedroom.

“Done?” you asked when he barged in. With your arm stretched, you were waiting for him to return your laptop, but he was still holding it.

“Fuckin’ slut.” Joel’s smirk was dark and triumphant.

Your face fell and you looked like you’d seen a ghost.

“Yeah, exactly! I found your little spy audios, baby! Why were you recording me and your mom having sex, little perv, huh?”

You pulled your knees to your chest, squeezing into yourself, and mumbled,

“I’m not— I—no—please—I wasn’t recording her.”

“Oh? But you recorded me! Wanted to hear your stepdad’s groans, dirty slut?”

You were quiet, with your gaze downcast, looking scared to death. That was exactly what Joel needed.

“Imma tell your mom.”

“No! No, please, Joel, no! I’m begging!”

“Unless—“, he mused.

“Yes! Anything! Please!”

Here we go. He had you where he wanted. Finally.

“Unless you become my fuck toy.”

You looked gobsmacked.

“What?”

“Don’t act shocked, babydoll. Bet you want it more than anythin’. What were you doin’ with those tracks, sweetie? Listenin’ and thinkin’ of our lord and savior? Fuck no! Were probably fuckin’ yourself silly, moanin’ my name. Your stepdad's name, little slut!”

He shook his head and tutted at you while you were shaking like a leaf.

”I’m givin’ you a way out, baby. But only if! If I can have my way in. In all your holes.”

“All?” Your voice was so small and trembling, it made his cock twitch.

“All, babydoll! I wanna fuck your mouth - yes, please, Joel! Wanna fuck your ass? you’ll let me! Pussy right after? Of course, sir! That’s what antibiotics are for.”

You sniffed loudly and burst into tears.

“Please Joel— I can’t—we shouldn’t!”

Joel smirked and walked to the bed, stopping right in front of you. He cupped your wet cheek and cooed, “I know we shouldn’t, babydoll. That’s why it’s so damn hot.”

You sniffed and leaned into his touch, your big teary eyes looking up at him.

Joel couldn’t believe his luck. The little slut was melting. He was going to have so much fun!

“Get undressed, sweetie. Let’s get right to it.”

Joel didn’t believe in God. But right at that moment he swore that someone above had blessed him. Or someone below for that matter. You were taking off your shorts, top and then panties, wiping tears off your pretty face with the back of your hand. He immediately snatched your underwear and shoved it in his jean pocket.

“On your back. Spread your legs. Let me see what daddy’s gonna play with.”

You widened your eyes at what he called himself but did what he told you. You lay down and slightly parted your bent legs.

“Don’t shake. I won’t hurt ya,” Joel growled, rolling your chair to the bed and making it squeak under his weight when he got comfortable ready to enjoy the view.

Your pussy was hotter than anything he’d seen or imagined and his cock was thumping hard in the confines of his jeans. Joel unzipped them and pulled his boxers down. Your glossy eyes immediately snapped to his bobbing stiff manhood.

“Yeah, sweetie, take a good look. Ya gonna learn every rim and vein of this dick pretty soon. Its taste too,” Joel added and shook it in his hand. He wasn’t leaking yet but when he pushed your legs wider apart and your folds opened up to his view, his slit began crying happy tears.

“Fuck, babydoll. She’s even better than I imagined. And believe me, I thought about your snatch a lot.”

Your breath hitched when Joel leaned closer and his thick fingers spread your lips.

“Look at this hole. Tight. We need to get ya ready first. This bad boy—“ he jiggled his cock again- “can damage you and we don’t want that, yeah?”

You shook your head and Joel’s hand glided over your mound, his digits slipped between your folds in a perverted examination.

“Ya have a dick?”

You were blinking up at him, confusion swimming in your blown out eyes.

“Rubber cock? Dildo? Jesus, ya slow.”

“Ohh… yeah,” you nodded and averted your eyes in shame.

“Aww, don’t act shy and shit. I think we’re past that, little slut.”

He got up with a smirk on his lips and, after following your line of vision, opened your nightstand drawer.

“Where is it? Ah!”

It wasn’t long until Joel found your toy - a pink dildo.

“Damn, sweetie, I see you’re not adventurous at all! Look!”

With a chuckle Joel lined the dildo up with his own cock which was longer and girthier than the toy and shot his brows up at you.

You closed your eyes, probably not believing what was happening in your bedroom, but then snapped them open when you felt a cold tip of the toy prod your tight hole.

”Joel! Lube!” you exclaimed, trying to push away the dildo. Your stepdad was looming over you, standing by the bed, his smile devilish.

“Of course. A little slut like you deserves the best lube. Daddy’s spit.”

He leaned down and gathered some saliva in his mouth before opening his lips and letting it drop right on your slit. You jerked.

”More?” Joel asked and not waiting for your response spit on it again, with force now. You moaned when a glob of liquid hit your clit and Joel’s fiery gaze found yours.

”You want it, yeah? That’s why you recorded me. Do you want me?”

He didn’t know why he was asking that. You were already lying in front of him on the bed, pussy out and ready to be fucked. But a possessive part of him wished for you to want him back.

You tried to avert your eyes but he leaned closer and took your cheeks between his fingers, keeping you facing him.

“Tell me!”

Your quiet, shaky ’yes’ rang loud in the bedroom and in his head. After your confession Joel’s flannel covered chest expanded with pride and triumph. He still got it. He had blackmailed you but he totally could have gotten you all by himself.

Drunk on the ego boost he kissed you with vigor and hunger, swallowing your mewls and whimpers. Then he ripped his mouth off and hovered over you, watching your eyes roll back when he pushed the dildo between your saliva-coated folds and inserted it into your hole. You moaned his name and Joel started leaking like a faucet.

He began fucking you with the toy, groaning and drinking in your sweet sounds.

“Ya love it, little slut? Bet you were dreaming of this. Your stepdad fuckin’ this pink cock into your hungry hole. Listenin’ to my voice.”

He leaned closer and growled right into your ear,

“Daddy’s here now and he’s gonna claim all your holes, sweetie.”

When he changed the angle of the dildo, you tilted your head back into the mattress with a loud whimper, biting your lower lip. Your pleasure drove Joel insane.

”You’ll be my fuckdoll in no time. I’ll train your pussy, your ass, your mouth. Ya gonna take me. Take me so good. Gonna tity-fuck you. Bathe you in my cum. You won’t need anything except my huge cock. And my voice. Give it to me now, baby! Come!”

“Daddy!” you cried out and your body began shaking and trembling under Joel. He didn’t stop moving the toy inside you until your limbs fell weakly on the bed and your face relaxed. Your eyes closed by themselves, body and mind spent after an emotional and physical climax.

Joel’s poor dick was engorged and leaking, demanding the warmth of your wet cunt. And he was absolutely sure that you were drenched.

He threw your legs wider apart with his knee and with a wolfish smirk stared at your clear juices sliding from under the pink cock, which was still sticking out of your cunt.

Suddenly Joel got an idea. His horny mind wanted nothing else but to spear you with his manhood. But he felt generous that day. You deserved so much more than just his cock!

Not tearing his dark gaze off you lying with your eyes closed and breathing fast, he took his jeans and flannel off. He was still wearing his white undershirt when his eager lips latched onto your exposed tits, his hot tongue swirled around your hardened nipples, one after the other. Joel’s hands were roaming your body, squeezing and pinching it lightly. Like a starving animal he couldn’t get enough of your submission, your skin, your curves and crevices. He was pulling little moans out of you and, with your eyelids still closed, you looked inebriated, drunk on his touch and your ecstasy, until Joel slightly slapped your cheek.

Your eyes fluttered open and you mewled, looking up at him, gaze foggy.

“My dick’s achin’, baby. Get ready to take it,” he warned and then got another bright idea. “Let’s record our first time. I’ll share it with you, baby, don’t worry. I know how much you love hearing daddy’s voice.” Joel laughed and took his phone out of his jeans lying on the floor.

“Smile, sweetie,” he commanded but you covered your face with your hands when he took a few nudes. It was good enough for him.

He started recording and threw the phone on the bed. Your sweet moans were enough for him too.

When Joel brough his tip to your already stuffed hole, your eyes widened.

“Joel, the toy—“

“Yeah, I know —I know — lemme do it.”

“Are you recording us?”

”Yeah, baby. Daddy needs something to jerk off to when you’re away.”

“Oh—ok, I guess.”

“Ya being such a good girl for me. Ain’t I lucky?”

“Joel, it won’t fit.”

“It will, babydoll. Tilt your hips a little. Yeah, damn. I’ll use my thumb to push it in. Jus’ a tip’ll do for today.”

“Ahhh—oh my god—your cock’s so big.”

“I know, right? But—Ya jus’ need to relax. Lemme stroke you—fuck, you’re wet, my hand’s soaked. Ya like it when I rub your clit like that?”

“Ahhhh—yeahh–yeahh—“

“Good little slut. It’s already in, baby. Lookit! My tip’s in.”

“Oh, fuck, Joel. I feel so full—ahhh.“

“Don’t curse, baby, or I’ll spank you.”

“Joellllll—”

“That’s better. Moan my name when I’m fuckin’ you. Your hole’s stretched so good right now. Taking both cocks. Wish you could see what I see. Greedy little cunt.”

“Ohhhh, Joel. I’m gonna—“

“Call me ‘daddy’ if ya want. i know you do—hngggg”

“Daddyyyy!”

“Fuck— fuck—aahhhhh.”

Joel was shooting his hot cum into you, rope after rope. He didn’t plan on coming inside but the lust clouded his mind. He wanted you full with his load, his cock and the dildo. The sight of your pussy swallowing everything he gave you, stretched to the limit, pushed him over the edge and into the pits of hell. He didn’t care. He was growling, his head down, watching his balls twitch, pumping his jeez into your core. They were resting on the toy, which was half pushed out of your hole by his own cock and your pulsating walls. He could believe that he made his stepdaughter come on his dick while she was moaning like a whore, accepting his cum like the greatest gift. What a perfect little slut!

When the last drop of his load was discarded into your sloppy cunt, Joel pulled his cock and the pink toy out. Both were glistening with his and your cum.

“Clean us up,” he growled and made you get up on shaky legs. You immediately fell on your knees and Joel grinned.

“Good girl. Now get to work.”

He brought the toy to his still hard manhood and watched you lick the cocks clean. At one point you took both dicks in your whimpering mouth.

“Fuck, ya hot! All your holes are hungry for two dicks, huh? Your pussy, now your mouth. Ya know what hole’s next, yeah?”

You pulled away with a scared expression and Joel barked a laugh.

”Don’t fret, sweetie. All in its time.”

He pulled you up by your arm and held your body tight when his lips crashed against yours. The taste of you and him made his cock twitch. He kissed you hard and you welcomed it. Perfect little slut indeed.

”Get some sleep,” he ordered, tucking you into bed. You looked fucked out of your mind and your tired smile made him smirk. “You need rest. So daddy could have lots of fun with you later.”

He turned the lights off on his way out.

Joel wasn’t a good man. But he was a happy one.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!<3

MASTERLIST || SERIES MASTERLIST || more step family naughtiness

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @pascaltesfaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40

Special tag @toxicanonymity

[cinnamongorll]

Wildflower - masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC Synopsis: Joel Miller is an infuriating constant in Alex’s life. As her dad’s best friend and smuggling partner, she can’t seem to avoid him no matter how hard she tries.  When a weapons trade off goes wrong and Alex becomes the next target in a dangerous revenge vendetta, Joel is forced to uphold the promise he made to his friend to protect his daughter from the dangers of the post-apocalyptic world. But when Alex and Joel reluctantly grow closer, and she starts to peel back the layers of animosity between them, Alex realises that nothing is what it seems and that trusting Joel might be more dangerous than anything outside the QZ walls. Series tags: dbf!Joel, age gap (Joel is late 49, FMC is 26), older man/younger woman, slow burn, enemies to lovers, mean Joel, protective Joel, dark Joel, sexual tension, smut, mutual pining, feral Joel, first person, angst, more tags to be added, ultraviolence Joel.

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"I can fix him... woah maybe I can't" - taylor swift 🤍

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read chapter one here and on ao3

read chapter two here and on ao3

read chapter three here and on ao3

read chapter four here and on ao3

read chapter five here and on ao3

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[lilyinmysoul]

When The Night Ends

DarkJackson!Joel x F Reader

WC: 2k

Warnings: Smut, unprotected piv, somno (sorry not sorry), dubcon, dark Joel like I said, Joel is dominant, breeding kink, kinda forced breeding but she's into it, Joel palming himself

Note: This is based on a request I got, reblogs help so much. If you like it, tell me, so I can write more. If it's not your thing, shoot me a request so I know what is.

Joel isn’t sure how Jackson has so much damn alcohol, or where it all comes from, really. That hardly matters, though—all that matters is that it’s there, and he will drink it.

Regretfully, he couldn’t overdo it. He had patrols to go on, responsibilities to attend to—but nearly every Friday, without fail, he would take to the Tipsy Bison. Whether it be alone, with his brother, or the occasional patrol partner, he would be there.

You are, of course, aware of this. And even if you did have a say in the matter, it wouldn’t bother you much. There was a complete absence of a label regarding yours and Joel’s relationship; maybe it was because you both knew that he wasn’t cut out for such a role, or possibly how you knew that to bring it up would be to run the risk of disturbing a very concise system—his temper. Really, it appeared that you took what he gave you, and it seemed to be enough.

In any case, it is yet another Friday night. The double doors of the Tipsy Bison swing open, and the cool air on his skin mixes with the alcohol’s hazy embrace of his conscience, and Joel wants to see you. The winds are rough, hence why he is nearly the only man in the streets (paired with the time—it’s the dead of night). His brow furrows a bit harder when a man passes by with his son, and he begins his trek back to… wherever he finds himself. He’s too inebriated to make much sense of it. 

It had been too long, it appeared, since he’d seen you. You had noticed this too, and frankly, it seemed to be the nature of involving yourself with Joel Miller. As of late, he had increasingly withdrawn himself from your company; but tonight, he seemed emboldened in his sense of longing for you.

Although it is cold, the winter snow has since cleared, leaving only the occasional melting puddle of slush under his feet. Those same feet lead Joel all across town. He passes rows of closed up shops and blocks full of houses. Warm houses, he assumes. Houses occupied by families, maybe. Husbands, wives, children… alcohol makes him sentimental. Angry, even. He continues to trudge.

What’s interesting is that drinks seem to both aid and worsen the hole in Joel’s chest. They deliver some sort of tranquility, and also, a comparable and equally as intense sense of abhorrence. This isn’t something he contemplates as he nears his house, and when he sees it, he doesn’t slow. He continues to walk. After all, there isn’t much for him there; and so, his home is going, going, gone to a sea of other, almost identical ones. Ones with more to offer than a few half-built and boring guitars.

And when he arrives on your doorstep, it’s like second nature. He’s been here enough to know where you keep your spare key, but never long enough to find the one that opens the back door. Tiredly, he kneels and his hip pops as he reaches underneath the flower pot (he believes he gave this to you, but he really can’t remember) and slides from under it the key.

He turns the knob—not slowly or carefully, but rushedly—and it twists and opens. You had left it unlocked—God, he hates when you do that.

The door creaks open and gives way to Joel’s figure—you weren’t around to notice; it couldn’t be any earlier than midnight, and you had long since gone to bed. He fishes around on the wall in the pitch blackness for the light switch.  It takes him a moment, but he flicks it on. The kitchen is illuminated by a few twenty-year-old lightbulbs and cluttered by everything you couldn’t bother to put away. Each item thrown upon your table was a fragment of your life—not enough of which included him, which fueled his irritation.

His shoes don’t come off, and instead he climbs the stairs, his heavy boots leaving wet footprints on each step and 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 on the wood but not loud enough to wake you. His every pace is slightly swayed, his balance influenced by many glasses of whiskey, downed alone in a corner of the bar.

Your door is slightly askew, and its hinges squeal as he pushes it open. Joel’s eyes fall upon your sleeping figure, your limbs lost among the sea of blankets tossed atop your bed. Your work clothes had been haphazardly strewn across the floor, and you wore only a bra and panties. This was a spectacle of your everyday life, he realized; one that he didn’t know much about. Another pang of displeasure gnaws at his heart—he isn’t sure of its origin, but he knows that it’s disturbing him.

The way he kicks off his boots is slightly more hostile; a loud, dull noise that rings through the room. The old, hollow walls reverberate the sound, and you stir—but don’t wake. Once his old and beaten shoes rest against the wall, his feet carry him to the edge of your bed. As he takes in your sleeping face, your head resting in your hands and legs stretched wildly on the mattress, he feels almost proprietorial of you.

Only you know that Joel’s vexation often turns to arousal in your presence, and the two often blend. There is something about your still and sleeping face, the plush curves of your body made visible by your clothing (or, lack thereof)—or, it may simply be the fact that Joel is frustrated and he needs it taken care of. As he stands above you, his hand—as if on its own—snakes down to the bulge protruding from his worn jeans. His fingers rub and squeeze, his eyes running over you as you twitch and stir unconsciously. You seem to mesmerize him momentarily as he stands, his roving eyes concluding that they want more.

Soon enough, his drunkenly clumsy fingers are fumbling with his belt, pulling at its leather and clanking its buckle, pulling open the suddenly complex contraption. Next, the silver button of his jeans is popped and the zipper undone as your firm mattress dips under his weight when he sits. For a few moments, he looks at you. And with an almost uncharacteristic gentleness, his fingers reach out to touch you. The graze is tender as it glides along your side, your stomach, your chest—though maybe only an effort to adjourn your waking.

His calloused fingers reach the band of your underwear—a faded blue pair from however long ago. They roam over the soft fabric, cruising over its front and halting when they skim over the spot you like so much—it makes you tense; but your eyes don’t open. Two of Joel’s fingers trace circles for a moment. He watches your still face and glances down when your thighs squeeze. With a few more circlings, his patience has run dry and his captivation with you has turned to necessity.

He does as he can to be gradual with his movements as he lays over you on the bed, his hair tousled and his jeans halfway down. An elbow props him up, his face adjacent to yours as his glazed eyes search your closed ones. His free hand hastily frees himself from the confines of his boxers and rubs fumblingly over the damp fabric of your panties again before pushing aside its material.

His mind is slightly empty from the alcohol, and his head a bit achey, but he knows what he is doing. For no more than a split second, he looks down, aligning himself with you. He pumps his cock a few times before finally notching himself in—a hiss leaves his mouth, and as his hips begin pushing into yours, he looks back up. Your eyes are open.

Your eyes widen, surprised as sleepiness refuses you any sense of understanding.

“Shh,” Joel insists. “Baby, it’s me.” His voice tapers off when he says this, his head slouching to rest on your shoulder.

“Joel…” when his voice registers with you, familiar and low, your muscles relax a bit. “What… are you doing here?” You ask, and as soon as the question leaves your mouth, you understand its stupidity. His hips are moving now, in and out… ‘Why else would he be here?’ and you’re half asleep.

“This okay…?” he asks, but it doesn’t seem like he cares greatly about your answer; he is very much out of it. You smell it on him. On his skin, on his breath. Everywhere.

“Um, I…” His eyes are glassy and focused on yours, and his hips are getting faster. The room is black, and you’re not sure what to think, but you’re glad that he’s finally here again. The only sounds in your ears are the old radiator and the wet sound of skin on skin. “Yeah.”

His head dips to your neck, nipping and biting in a way that’s a little too primal. You wrap an arm around him, your hand resting on his back and when Joel begins to grunt, you let sounds escape your mouth, too.

“Shit…” his voice wavers, and he might be even more drunk than you thought he was. But as sloppy as his movements are, they are persistent. 

“Joel.” His name passes your lips. As a question, or as a statement, you aren’t sure. You don't get an answer. The moon outside is the only thing allowing you to see him, the accentuated lines across his face and the greys littering his hair. Your legs wrap around his hips now, seeking some sort of comfort, or reassurance.

He wasn’t ever particularly chatty during sex, but he is even quieter now. His energy, it seems, has been dedicated to pushing his hips as firmly and deeply into you as possible. He looks almost focused, determined. Or maybe distracted.

Joel is clearly working himself up. His movements rougher, his voice louder, and he’s close. You always know, with the way he tenses, the way he speaks. This is the only fact that registers in your mind; everything else is lost on you. So, when he says; “I’m not stoppin’,” you blink.

“What?”

“I’m gonna cum,” a thrust. “And I’m not pullin’ out, I’m not stoppin’.”

“Wh…” you start. A groan on both of your ends sounds when he hits a particularly good spot. You yourself are getting close now, your back arching slightly off the bed, your mind still cloudy as you try to make sense of Joel’s words.

A few of his fingers come down to rub your clit, circling onto you your own wetness before coming to rest on your stomach. His hand caresses the skin on your tummy. “Imagine that…” he mutters in an almost slurred tone. “Just imagine that.”

You look down at his hand, and then back up again. You meet his eyes, and you understand very clearly what he means. You don’t have the will to fight it–at least, you don’t think you do–so, you hold him tighter and closer, letting each thought fade from your mind as he continues to bliss you out. How he holds you so possessively, how he looks at you so rapaciously… you don’t mind at all.

A few more erratic thrusts, and you’re coming. A few more, and Joel is, too.

You hear it—a low grunt and a groan from Joel—and then you feel it; a deep, warm sensation— a release and movement of liquid that you’ve never felt before. He’s never done that. You can’t help but, in all your weariness, think about the weight of what has just taken place.

To claim you had never mulled over the thought of a child—Joel’s child—would be a lie. The thought was welcoming, sweet… but Joel was not. He was neither. What he had just made was either some kind of commitment, or a grave mistake.

“You’re mine, y’know.” He grumbles into your hair.

“Am I?” You ask.

“Y’are.”

“Okay. I believe you.”

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Thanks for reading! Lmk if you like

[tateypots]

The Gift

18+ MDNI

Pairing: Dark!Joel Miller x f!reader, Dark!Tommy Miller x f!reader

Word count: 5.2k (oops)

A/N: Part 9 of Collared. Same as before, it's dark so please heed the warnings and skip if it's not for you.

Moodboard is for aesthetics only, reader is not described beyond having boobs and a vagina. Please refer to this post for more info on the series mooboards.

Summary: Joel is jealous of your growing relationship with Tommy and hatches a plan to rectify the situation.

Warnings: Non-Con, dark Joel, dark Tommy, kidnapping, daddy kink, uncle kink, restraints, stockhom syndrome, oral (m!receiving), praise kink, fingering, unprotected piv, manipulation. Let me know if I missed anything.

Part 8 | Series Masterlist

You had dived into the book straight away, not even bothering to read the blurb on the back to find out what it was about. You didn’t care, you were just thrilled to have it. That Tommy had listened to you and gotten you something you’d asked for. Not something that you needed for your survival, something to make you more comfortable. Something to make you happy. Something that meant that he cared.

You were already 3 chapters in when the door opened and the man himself entered. You launched yourself off the bed and threw yourself at him, arms wrapping tightly around his neck as your face smooshed into his shoulder.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you chant as his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in tight to him.

“Did my princess like her gift?”

“Yes, thank you so much Uncle Tommy.”

“This mean I’m forgiven for the other day?”

“I already forgave you for that,” you giggle, turning your face to look at him. He boops you on the nose and responds, “you’re a good girl princess. Sorry it ain’t the type of book you really like, the last owners don’ seem to have been big on reading, it was the only one I was able to find so far.”

“That’s ok Uncle Tommy, it’s actually pretty good and I’m grateful to have it.”

He kisses your forehead, his hands tracing patterns up and down your back. “Yeah? You maybe want to show your Uncle Tommy how grateful you are?”

You bite your lip and nod. And for the first time since you got here you think you might actually mean it.

“Good girl, on your knees then.”

You slide your way down to your knees, your hands trailing his body as you go. He likes that, groaning and shuddering beneath your touch as his eyes devour you the whole way down.

You’ve just settled on your knees, hands braced on his thighs as the door opens again, Joel meandering in, halting when he sees you there. He doesn’t say anything, just grunts and walks to the fridge, pulling things out to start making lunch.

It feels like a slight. A rejection. He’d enjoyed watching this morning, why doesn’t he want to now? Your body burns with it. You feel the prickle of tears behind your eyes and you take a deep breath, willing them away. This isn’t about Joel. This is for Tommy. Sweet Tommy who has done something kind for you. You try to reclaim the feeling of wanting this, how good you had felt moments ago but it slips through your fingers, evading all your efforts as you listen to Joel shuffle around behind you, unable to shake the sting of his indifference.

“Go on and take him out princess,” Tommy breathes out above you. You follow his commands, struggling with the buckle of his belt, out of practice with such things now. They normally undress themselves and you haven’t had to bother with clothes since you got here. You pop open the button of his jeans and pull the zipper down, hands shaking as you reach in to grab hold of his already hard cock.

He moans at the contact, head tipping back in pleasure. You pull him out and watch as it bobs in front of you as you pull his pants and underwear further down below his balls.

He tips your head up with a finger under your chin, his thumb gently stoking over your cheek, “just wanna see what you remember from this mornin’, take it steady and I’ll guide you if you need it ok?” he instructs.

“Ok,” you whisper, nodding your head in case he didn’t hear. You take a deep breath before leaning forward and placing a kiss on the tip of his dick and swiping your tongue around the head. A little firmer, more sure this time. Less afraid of it. Less afraid of hurting him. You revelled in his groans of pleasure, chest heaving as you took the head fully into your mouth.

“That’s it good girl, doin’ such a good job.”

You started to bob up and down, taking more and more into your mouth each time. You belatedly remembered to bring your hand up to grip the base of him, remembering his hand wrapped around yours and trying to replicate the pressure. It still didn’t feel right though. And then it hit you. It was too dry, your movements not as smooth without the aid of lubrication. You didn’t really want to spit into your hand. So you hesitantly withdrew from his cock and moved your head round to the side of it before wrapping your lips around it at the root as best you could from this angle, running your tongue along the base, salivating over his dick and running your mouth upwards towards the tip, careful not to catch his sensitive member with your teeth. You placed another kiss on the tip and repeated what you had done on the other side.

“Goddamn princess,” he grunted as you wrapped your lips and hand back around him and got back to your steady bobbing movements, going further than you had managed that morning but still only taking about half of his length in your mouth, “you’re a fuckin’ natural.”

You bloomed at his praise, your confidence soaring. His hand wrapped around your head, not pushing or forcing, just there. You tried to remember back to the morning. Your memories were somewhat cloudy, taken up by the pounding that Joel had given you. The memory of that has your pussy clenching and you moan around Tommy’s cock.

“Fuck,” he hisses as his hips buck forward as the vibrations wash over him, shoving another inch of his cock into your already stuffed mouth. You gag and panic, pushing back on his thighs. He retracts fully as you cough and splutter. He bends down and holds your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him, his eyes big and apologetic, but before he can say anything a gruff voice sounds from behind.

“You ok baby?”

You cough a little again, and nod slightly at Tommy who visibly relaxes. You turn your head towards Joel, “I’m ok Daddy, just panicked a little is all.”

“You want to stop?”

You shake your head, “No, I -,” you turn back to Tommy, “I want to keep going.”

Tommy positively beams at you. He’s so handsome when he smiles, it steals your breath a little bit. He leans in and kisses the tip of your nose gently, and again in the centre of your forehead. You give him a little smile in return and settle back on your knees and wrap your lips back around his cock. You bob your head, hollowing your cheeks and matching the rhythm with your hand.

You notice Joel now, hovering just behind Tommy and it makes you want to explode, knowing his eyes are on you. You feel your arousal build, feel it start to drip own your thighs. You put in more effort now, knowing he is watching. You’re unsure whether you’re trying to show off or trying to make him jealous. Maybe it’s both.

You try to remember back to the morning once again. What was happening when Tommy had reached his peak… you fight through the fog in your brain and remember; his hand was on his balls.

So you summon your courage and reach your free hand up to fondle his balls. They feel strange in your hands. Squishier than you thought they’d be. It strikes you how vulnerable he is like this. You could hurt him. Bite down hard while squeezing the life out of his balls. You remembered from school how boys would crumple if they were hit in the testicles. You’d never do that to Tommy but you filed the information away for future reference and hoped you never needed it.

You run your fingertips over his balls oh so gently and pick up the pace of your bobbing head, drawing a litany of curses out of Tommy, who is visibly straining from the effort of not thrusting into you.

“Holy shit princess, you’re gona make me come,” he rasps out, panting now as his climax builds. “You’re gona take it in your mouth. You ready for your first taste of cum, sugar?”

Your eyes flit to Joel who raises a finger to his mouth, silently shushing you. You don’t know why he doesn’t want Tommy to know that he’s already fed you his cum but you simply flick your eyes back to Tommy and mumble an “mmmhmmm,” around his cock, preparing for another buck of his hips that with monumental effort he manages to control this time.

He pants and grunts as he floods your mouth with his salty spend. You don’t know what to do so you still, dropping your hand from his balls but leaving the one wrapped around his dick as you swallow around his cock.

He sits in your mouth for a moment after the final spurt, his breathing heavy and letting out content little hums.

“Did such a good job princess, learning so fast for me,” he praises as he finally pulls out of your mouth. He leans down and kisses you on the crown of your head “Don’ know what we did to deserve you princess, I really don’t.”

He smiles at you and helps you to your feet. “I’m gona go clean up.” He wanders off to the bathroom as Joel approaches with a damp cloth and wipes the remnants of spit and cum off your face and chest. He throws the cloth into the sink and then cups your face in his huge bear paw.

“You’re a good girl baby,” you know he’s not referring to your blowjob skills, “our little secret ok?”

“Ok Daddy,” you agree and he smiles at you, gently rubbing your cheek and it’s so tender you think your heart might burst. You don’t care why anymore, all you care about is that keeping this little secret makes him happy. And you know you’d do anything to make him happy. So when he sits at the table and hauls you into his lap without warning you simply giggle and snuggle into him, always content to be in his arms.

///

Joel kept a watchful eye on your training over the next few days. Watched as you learned to take Tommy's cock further and further down your throat. You were such a good girl, listening to his instructions and never complaining. And Tommy was displaying more patience than Joel had ever thought possible. He'd expected by now that his brothers resolve would have broken and he'd have rammed himself in to the hilt and fucked your face whether you were ready to take him or not.

But he'd seen the shift in the both of you ever since Tommy gave you that damn book. You still preferred his touch, of that Joel was certain, never giving yourself over to Tommy the way you did to him. But outside of the sexual you had become much freer with Tommy, conversation flowing easily, your laughter filling the cabin as he teased you. And Tommy lapped it up, always eager for your attention. Joel hated it. You were his.

“Fuck, her mouth man. It’s fuckin’ heaven,” Tommy tells him for the umpteenth time. “She’s learnin’ so quick. Ain’t gona be long until it’s time for you to eat your words, once she’s given you the best damn blow job of your life, few more days and I think she’ll have it.”

Joel just grunted in acknowledgement and carried on mucking out the goats. He was inclined to agree with Tommy and that was souring his mood further. This morning when he’d come into the main room he’d found you on your back, head hanging off the side of the bed with Tommy’s cock down your throat. Tommy was slowly pumping into you, moaning and groaning like he was in ecstasy, his hands groping and kneading your tits. He could see the outline of Tommy’s cock moving in your stretched throat. The thought of how much more prominent that bulge would be when it was his cock in your mouth was nearly enough to have him jizzing into his boxers.

He had to do something. Had to stop this getting any worse. Going 24 hours without you was unthinkable, never mind needing to make sure you two didn’t use that time to further build up your bond. He wasn’t supposed to be the one on the outside.

He pondered on it while he worked. This had all started with that damn book. Well Joel could give you gifts too. Another book was the obvious choice but that seemed lazy to him. He didn’t want to just jump on Tommy’s bandwagon. And he hadn’t come across anymore books anyhow. He thought back to all the conversations he’d had with you over the last few weeks, filtering through all the things he’d learned about you. And suddenly it hit him.

Trying to suppress the grin that was itching to break out over his face he told Tommy he was going in for a break. Tommy waved is acknowledgement and carried on with his task. When he entered the cabin, you were lying on your front on your bed, nose in that book. Seeing you in that position immediately put ideas in his head. But that had to wait.

You looked over to him, face puzzled as he headed to his room rather than over to you.

“I’ll be out in just a minute baby,” he told you as his bedroom door closed behind him. He got down on his knees and reached under his bed to pull out a box. It had in the contents of the room that he’d haphazardly thrown in when he and Tommy had claimed the cabin for themselves.

Once he’d retrieved his treasures, he opened his door and walked over to you. You looked up at him confused as he stretched out his hand towards you. You took it and climbed off the bed. He led you into the centre of the room and stood you by the dining table.

“Hands over your eyes baby, no peeking, Daddy has a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” you ask with a little smile, picking up on his excitement.

“Yep, cover those eyes baby.”

You do as you’re told placing your hands over your eyes and closing them for good measure. You hear him go back into his room and return. You hear him deposit some items onto the table and you bubble with excitement.

He comes back over to you, places a soft little kiss on the back of each hand before pulling them down. He chuckles a little when he sees your eyes were closed behind them.

“Always such a good girl for me. Open up those pretty eyes for me baby.”

You do as you’re told, only to be met with a view of his solid, flannel clad chest. You look up at him and he smirks before stepping out of your way. Your eyes fall to the items on the table and you squeal with excitement. A boombox, some headphones and little pouch full of CDs.

You fling yourself at Joel, wrapping your arms around his neck and he uses your momentum to pick you up and spin you round in a circle, getting you both tangled in your chain in the process.

“Thank you Daddy, thank you so much,” you pepper kisses all along his cheek and jaw as he manages to untangle you both.

“You like it?”

“I love it Daddy, thank you,” you murmur into his skin, “but what’s the occasion?”

“No occasion baby. Just remembered you tellin’ me how much you used to love listenin’ to music and dance in your room and then I remembered that I had this stashed away. Thought you might like it.”

Tears are falling from your eyes before you even know what’s happening. You cling to him once more and bury your face into his flannel, so overwhelmed.

“Hey now, what’s all this?”

“J-just, s-s-so h-happy Daddy,” you sniffle into his chest, the fact that he’d remembered that stupid conversation and wanted to give you something to remind you of happier times knocking the breath clean out of you.  

“Oh baby, you are the sweetest, most precious girl,” he tells you, wrapping you up and holding you close to him, swaying you gently. “I want you to be happy baby,” he whispers in your ear, “I want that so much.”

You squeeze him tighter before looking up at him. You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, so close to his lips it sends a zing of pleasure right through him.

“Can we try it Daddy, can we listen to something?”

“Course we can baby, you gona dance with me?”

“Can we Daddy, really?” you ask him, bouncing on the balls of your feet with excitement.

He chuckles and smiles at you, swept up in your enthusiasm. “Yeah baby, we really can. I’ll get it set up, you choose a CD. Might not exactly be your taste but there’s plenty to choose from.”

You flick through the little pouch as Joel plugs the boombox in by your bed.

“Whitney Houston!” you declare pulling the CD out of the pouch. “My mom loved her, we used to listen to her CDs in the car! Can we have this one Daddy?”

“Course baby, good choice.”

You put the CD in and the first few beats of ‘I Wanna Dance With Somebody’ resound from the dusty speakers of the boom box. Joel rushes into his room and returns with the key to your collar, carefully removing it and throwing it on the bed before pulling you into him and spinning you round. You laugh and sing along as he spins and twirls you, always pulling you back into him and swaying you right to left before going again.

It’s the most fun you’ve had in years and by the time the song ends you’re out of breath, giddy and feeling lighter than you have since your mom died.

You take a moment to really admire Joel’s face, his eyes are twinkling and his smile softens his face so beautifully. You trace your fingers over his lips, wanting to feel his smile beneath them, eager to drink it in and commit this moment to memory as best you can. He kisses your fingertips as they ghost over his mouth and suddenly you’re feeling breathless for another reason.

His pupils dilate and you feel him start to harden against you.

“On the bed baby, lie on your tummy.”

You kiss his cheek then rush to obey, lying on your front, propped up on your elbows so you can watch him undress. He shucks his clothes as quickly as he can and turns off the boombox as he climbs onto the bed. You look over your shoulder at him as he spreads your legs and settles between them. He’s never taken you like this before and you’re not sure what to expect.

He takes a moment to admire you, running his hands over your body, gently squeezing your ass cheeks as he goes. He directs you to fold one of your arms and rest your head on it before slipping his hand between your legs, groaning at how wet you already are for him.

He drops a finger to your clit and starts to rub it drawing soft moans from you. He slips a finger inside you and gently starts to pump. He loves the way you squeeze his finger so tight, how your pussy always rebounds no matter how much he stretches it out.

“That’s it, good girl. You like my fingers baby?”

“Yes Daddy,” you tell him breathily, already drowning in pleasure, “feels so good.”

He slips another finger in and you gasp at the stretch. His fingers speed up, pumping and rubbing you faster. Your hips buck and you grind back onto his hand.

“That’s it baby, fuck yourself on Daddy’s fingers, take what you need, so fucking good for me.”

You groan at his words and grunt when he adds a third finger. You’re grinding back on him fully now, no shame in your movements as your hips roll against his hand. You feel it building within you, that unbeatable pleasure and you chase it with all you have.

You don’t expect the swift slap to your ass, the sting quickly receding to pleasure that has your pussy clenching around his fingers and the coil snaps as you come with a shout of “Daddy!!” It’s the sweetest thing Joel has ever heard. He works you through your orgasm until he feels your body slump.

He gently removes his fingers from you and hear the smacking sound of him sucking them clean.

“So fuckin’ sweet baby. Taste so delicious.”

You offer him an agreeable hum in response, too boneless for anything more.

He pushes your thighs further apart with his knees and settles between them. He leans over you, in almost full contact, propping his weight on one forearm to avoid completely crushing you. You feel the heat of his body radiate against yours, skin on skin and you fucking love it. It feels so intimate to have this much contact with his body as he slowly sinks his dick into your pussy.

You’re both moaning as he slips further and further inside you. His free hand grabs yours and links your fingers together. He lets out a little huff as he finally bottoms out.

“Perfect. My perfect fuckin’ girl with a perfect fuckin’ pussy,” he rambles as he slowly thrusts in and out of you. “Always take my cock and my fingers so good. Fuckin’ flawless for me ain’t you baby? Huh? Tell me.”

“Yes Daddy, I’ll always be good for you, ohhh, f-fuck!” you moan.

He continues his rhythm, thrusting slow and deep. It’s so fucking sensual and erotic as he kisses you softly on your face and neck and shoulders and squeezes your hand every time he plunges into you, groaning in your ear. You can already feel yourself on edge. He’d never taken you like this before and it felt unreal.

“Oh fuck, your little pussy feels so fuckin’ good wrapped around me, s’like heaven baby. Can feel her flutterin’, she gettin’ close? This sweet little pussy gona cream all over my cock?”

“Ugh, yes Daddy,” you manage to grunt out, straining under the weight of the pleasure you feel.

“Yeah she is, gona milk me dry ain’t she baby. She wants my cum don’t she, she’s hungry for it.”

“Ooooooh Daddy,” you cry out as his thrusts get more forceful but still in that slow, languid pace. His sweet gift, the way he danced with you and now the tender way he’s fucking you has your whole body pulsating with pleasure. Your feelings for him swell to something almost uncomfortable, like they’re too big for your body to contain. All your doubts and hesitations are forgotten in the moment, all you can think of is him. Pleasing him, making him feel good.

You start to grind your hips back into him, meeting his thrusts and you choke with how good it feels.

“Oh fuck baby, that’s it. Just like that,” he praises as he starts to pick up the pace a little, his balls catching on your clit with every thrust, making stars dance behind your eyes. “Cum for me baby, come all over my cock.”

And you do, your body seizes, your pussy clenching and pulsing around him, a gush of arousal coating his dick and balls. Your thighs try to close, squeezing around him. He doesn’t try to push them back open, just enjoys the softness rubbing against him as he continues to move against you.

You make little mewling sounds as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. He fucking loves those noises and his dick twitches deep within you.

He squeezes your hand a little harder as he starts to chase his own orgasm, his hips now moving with fury against yours. You choke as you feel him slump onto you fully, his body now wholly connected with yours, the only gap when he retracts his hips before slamming back into you.

“Oh God baby, takin’ it so good for me, gona make me come. You want it baby? Tell me you want it.”

 “Want it Daddy,” you slur out, wholly drunk on the pleasure coursing through you.

“What do you want baby? Tell me, beg for it.”

“Hnnnnhhh, your cum Daddy, want your cum, please, Daddy please!”

And that does it, he rams himself deep and starts to pulsate with a growl as he empties himself inside you. You feel the sticky warmth spreading within you and your pussy clenches around him again as you cum once more.

“Oh yeah, there she goes, this little pussy loves my cum don’t she, can’t get enough.” He lazily pumps into you, pushing the final few spurts of his cum as deep as he can while you moan in response.

He pulls out and rolls off you, rolling you onto your back and presses a long kiss to your cheek before nuzzling in the crook of your neck. You bring your hand up to lazily card through his hair and he hums against your skin.

You lie there for a few minutes, content in the quiet aftermath. He brings his hand up to your breast and idly starts playing with it. There’s no intention behind it, he just wants to feel them. Taking you from behind was a rush but he missed playing with your sweet tits. He thinks next time he’ll get you to ride him so he can see them bouncing in his face.

As you lie there you begin to build the courage to ask him something that’s been on your mind the last few days. He’s been so sweet to you so you don’t think he’ll mind your curiosity.

“Daddy can I ask you something?”

“Of course baby, what’s on your mind?” Joel replied.

“How come you don’t use my mouth like Uncle Tommy does?”

“Oh, does my good little girl want Daddy’s cock in her mouth? You like it baby?” he asks, now trailing kisses along your collarbone, the press of his plush lips against your skin leaving you breathless. You loved it when he was like this but it made it hard to concentrate on anything else.

A soft moan escaped you when you opened your mouth to reply, “oooh, I-I do like it Daddy. L-like seeing how much Uncle Tommy enjoys it. Don’t you think you’d like it Daddy?”

“Oh baby,” he said, propping himself up on his forearm so he was hovering over you, his hand abandoning your breast to swipe his thumb across your lips, “you got no idea how much I’d love to sink into this beautiful mouth, but I can’t baby.”

He pressed his thumb against your lips and they instinctively parted for him, taking it into your mouth and wrapping your tongue around it like Tommy had trained you to do with his cock earning you a groan from Joel.

“Why Daddy?” The question came out garbled around his thick thumb but he picked it up nonetheless.

“Daddy promised Uncle Tommy that he could teach you all about it. And he thinks he can teach you how to be the best cock sucker there ever was. He’s got so much faith in you baby and he says you’re doing so well.” You preen at the praise, hearing that Tommy is pleased with you making you tingle with excitement as you continue suckling on Joel’s thumb.

“And well Tommy made me a bet that when he thinks you’re ready, you’ll give me the best blow job of my life baby. And watching your progress, I think he might be right.”

It’s your turn to groan this time, praise from Joel never failing to make you body sing and your clit throb.

Knowing full well what he does to you, he pulls his thumb from your mouth and moves it to your clit, rubbing soft circles into it, knowing you’ll still be sensitive. You moan and groan and chase his thumb with your hips until you’re coming, clenching around nothing.

“Hmmm good job baby,” he tells you, sinking his head to rest on your chest, holding you close like he knows you like.

Your chest heaves beneath him as you recover from yet another orgasm, his head moving up and down with every breath you take and he listens to your heartbeat begin to steady. Your skin is so soft against his, warm and soothing. He could stay like this all day, wrenching orgasm after orgasm out of you. But he has work to do and he’s already been gone too long. Reluctantly he peels himself off you and climbs off the bed.

He takes it slow getting redressed, waiting to see if the seed he planted takes root. Once he’s finished buttoning his flannel he can’t resist sitting back on the bed for one last snuggle. He lies his top half over you and nuzzles into your neck again, bringing his hands up to caress your sides.

“Hmm. Always so hard to leave you baby.”

“I don’t like it when you go Daddy.”

He sighs. “I know baby. But I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

You squeeze him a little tighter before letting go and he sits up and puts your collar back on before getting up and moving towards the door.

“Daddy, what did you mean when you said Uncle Tommy made you a bet?”

Bingo.

He turns back around to you. “Well like I said he bet me that if I let him do all the teachin’ that the first time you blow me it’ll be the best blow job I’ve ever had.”

“Oh,” you replied, head reeling as it so often is these days, torn between pride that Tommy has so much faith in you and an uncomfortable feeling in your stomach about how they can be so blasé about something like that. That no matter all the progress you think you’ve made, they still view you as nothing more than their plaything.

He can almost see the cogs turning as you contemplate what he’s just said.

“What were the terms?” You ask quietly.

He’s donning his coat as he replies, “whoever wins gets you to themselves for 24 hours. I’ll be honest baby, I really wanted to win, wanted it more than anythin’ but you’re doin’ so good with your trainin’ I think I’m cooked. Gona be so hard not to be with you for that long baby but I know you’ll have fun with Uncle Tommy.” And with that he walks out the door, savouring the stunned look on your face.

///

@aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @old-logan-and-old-joels-slut @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @axshadows @justajoelsreader @ahintofkiwistrawberry @guelyury @rosebuds-and-moonlight @koshkaj-blog @shivispunk @ivoryandflame @tammythr @magpiepills @deviscave @megjohnston23 @pedrosgrogu @pedge-page @guelyury @lamartell @thejoywillburnoutthepain @xoxabs88xox @teapartydreams

[mssalo]

debt

Joel saved you - since that day, you’ve stuck to him, unable to survive on your own. But another mistake pushes him over the edge—this time, his patience snaps. Now, he wants you to pay him back for every time he’s saved you, using your body as the price.

After all, you owe him, and he’s come to collect.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Dark themes, dubious consent/non-consensual themes, explicit sexual content (penetrative sex, oral sex - female receiving), graphic violence, psychological manipulation, dark Joel (possessive, dominant), 5k.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

You had been traveling with Joel for what felt like an eternity.

Time had lost all meaning in this world; days bled into nights, and weeks into months, marked only by the changing light in the sky and the constant push to keep moving, to survive.

Everything blurred into one long, desperate journey, and the only constant was Joel. You and Joel had fallen into an unspoken rhythm—walking, scavenging, finding shelter when the sun dipped below the horizon. He was your protector, the reason you were still alive. You wouldn’t have made it this far without him. In fact, you wouldn’t have lasted a week.

Joel was unlike anyone you’d ever met. He was older, rougher, with edges worn sharp by years of survival. He didn’t talk much, and when he did, his words were clipped and to the point, always with the hint of a warning behind them.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but fill the silences, rambling on nervously, hoping to break the tension that seemed to follow you both like a shadow. You knew you weren’t the smartest, or the strongest. You weren’t a fighter, and your instincts weren’t sharp like his. But Joel had kept you alive despite all of that, and for reasons you didn’t quite understand, he hadn’t left you behind.

That’s why you stuck close to him—because, deep down, you knew that without him, you were as good as dead.

It had all started when Joel saved you for the first time. You hadn’t been prepared for the kind of dangers that came with living outside the walls, beyond the safety of any remaining settlements. You were clueless, naïve—wandering off into the wilderness with nothing more than a backpack and a vague hope of finding food. You hadn’t thought it through. You never did. The moment you left, you were as good as lost.

You didn’t even hear them coming, the raiders. They crept out of nowhere, brutal and fast. By the time you realized what was happening, it was too late. You were surrounded, their eyes filled with malice as they circled you like predators closing in on prey. You were frozen, paralyzed with fear, your mind spinning as you tried to come up with some way out. But there was no way out. They were going to take everything from you—your supplies, your life—and you could feel their intentions burning into your skin, the dark edge of something even worse.

And then Joel appeared.

He moved through them like a shadow, silent and efficient. You barely had time to register what was happening before one of the men fell to the ground, Joel’s knife buried deep in his chest.

The others turned on him, but it didn’t matter. Joel was faster, stronger, and brutal in a way that made your stomach turn. You watched in shock as he killed them all, one after another, without hesitation, without mercy. He didn’t flinch, didn’t waver—his face a mask of cold focus as he wiped the blood from his knife.

When the last of the raiders fell, Joel looked at you, his dark eyes unreadable. You had been trembling, still too stunned to speak, too scared to move. You were supposed to thank him, but the words wouldn’t come. All you could do was stare, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to make sense of the man standing in front of you.

“Come on,” he’d said, his voice low and rough, as if saving you had been an inconvenience. “You’re not safe out here on your own.”

And just like that, you followed him. You didn’t even think about it. You just knew that Joel was your best chance, maybe your only chance, at survival. He was dangerous, but that danger was your shield. He was protection in its most brutal form.

Since then, you hadn’t left his side. Traveling with Joel was a balancing act—one that required you to keep up and stay out of trouble, though you often failed at both. He kept a tight pace, his long strides carrying him forward with purpose, while you struggled to match his speed, constantly lagging behind.

He never said it, but you could feel his frustration simmering beneath the surface, especially when you slowed him down.

Joel was patient, to a point. You could see it in the way his jaw clenched when you talked too much, filling the silence with nervous chatter.

He never asked for details about your past, and you had learned quickly that asking him about his wasn’t wise either. You were opposites in so many ways. Where Joel was quiet and calculating, you were naive, overly optimistic at times, always hoping things would get better.

You talked to fill the space between you, trying to ignore the constant danger that lurked just beyond the edges of your awareness.

But Joel wasn’t one for talking. He had no time for distractions, no tolerance for mistakes. His patience had limits, and you had pushed those limits more times than you could count.

You saw it in his eyes—how they darkened when you slowed him down or when you clumsily fumbled with your supplies. There was a tension between you that you didn’t fully understand, but you could feel it simmering like a storm about to break.

Sometimes, you’d catch Joel watching you. His gaze would linger longer than it should, his expression unreadable. There was something in the way he looked at you that made your heart race—not just from fear, but from something else. Something you didn’t dare name. Joel was magnetic in a way that frightened you, in a way that made it impossible to pull away.

You knew you weren’t the smartest or the most capable, and that knowledge left you vulnerable. You tried to make up for it by being helpful, offering to do the little things—fetching water, setting up camp—but more often than not, you were in Joel’s way.

You relied on him for everything—your safety, your survival—and he knew it. But something was shifting. There was a heat between you that you didn’t fully understand, a simmering undercurrent that felt like it was building toward something inevitable.

You weren’t sure what it was, but every time you caught Joel’s eyes on you, lingering just a little too long, you felt it. The storm was coming. And you didn’t know if you were ready for it.

· · ───

It had been a long day. Hours of walking left your legs aching, the sun had long since dipped below the horizon, and exhaustion weighed heavy on your shoulders. The two of you had made it through the outskirts of a city, avoiding trouble as best you could. But trouble always seemed to find you.

You’d been scavenging through a dusty old shop, wandering farther than you should have. That’s when you heard it. The unmistakable clicking noise that sent a spike of terror through your veins.

Your body froze, breath caught in your throat as the sound drew nearer. It was the wet, choking clicker sound—a noise you’d come to know all too well.

Before you could react, it was on you—a grotesque, twisted figure lurching toward you with inhuman speed. Your body refused to move, fear locking you in place.

Then, just as the creature lunged for you, Joel’s hand yanked you back. His knife flashed, slicing clean through the clicker’s neck, and it collapsed to the ground, twitching and gurgling before going still.

The silence that followed was deafening.

You gasped, your body trembling from the adrenaline, your heart pounding in your chest as you looked up at Joel. 

His face was hard, jaw clenched, and his eyes burned with fury—fury directed entirely at you.

“What the fuck were you thinkin’?” he snapped, his voice a low, dangerous growl.

His hand was still wrapped around your arm, tight and unyielding, pulling you closer to him. “You tryin’ to get yourself killed?”

“I—I wasn’t—” you stammered, but your voice was barely a whisper.

“Shut up,” Joel barked, cutting you off. His grip tightened painfully, his face inches from yours, his voice seething with anger. “You don’t listen. You never fuckin’ listen.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, his words cutting deep. You knew he was right.

You’d messed up—again. You’d wandered off like he told you not to, and it had almost cost you everything.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, but Joel wasn’t having it.

“Sorry ain’t good enough,” he muttered darkly, his voice a low, menacing growl.

His eyes bored into yours, filled with a fury that made your heart race. “Do you even understand how close you were to dyin’?”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for the first time, you saw it clearly—the tension that had been building between you for weeks, months. It wasn’t just anger.

There was something darker, something raw and primal in the way Joel looked at you now. His breathing was heavy, his jaw tight, and his eyes… His eyes were filled with something dangerous.

“You wanna keep playin’ games?” Joel’s voice dropped lower, almost a growl, as he stepped closer, his grip on your arm pulling you toward him until your bodies were nearly touching. “You think I’ll just keep savin’ you every damn time?”

“Joel, I—” you began, but his hand shot up, gripping your chin roughly, forcing you to look into his dark, burning eyes.

“Shut up,” he snarled, his voice tight with barely contained rage. “You don’t get to speak right now. I’m talkin’.”

The world around you seemed to narrow, the only thing you could focus on was Joel—the heat of his body, the tension radiating off him, the way his breath brushed against your skin.

You felt your pulse race, fear and something else tangling together in your chest.

He didn’t let go as he dragged you out of the store, his hand still tight around your wrist, practically pulling you through the darkened streets.

The sun had disappeared behind the horizon, and the air had turned cool, but the heat from Joel’s anger burned hot between you. He moved fast, his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed straight ahead, and you stumbled to keep up with his brutal pace.

Eventually, after what felt like hours, he led you into the trees. The abandoned streets gave way to a dense forest, and hidden within the thick canopy of trees was a small, dilapidated cottage.

It was old and crumbling, but it was shelter. Joel didn’t hesitate as he shoved open the door, dragging you inside with him.

The moment the door slammed shut, the air between you shifted. The tension thickened, suffocating and inescapable. Joel let go of your arm, but you could feel the heat of his gaze on your back, and when you turned to face him, his expression had darkened even more.

His eyes were wild now, filled with something you didn’t recognize—something that made your stomach twist in knots. He stepped toward you, slow and deliberate, his presence looming and suffocating.

“You think this is a fuckin’ joke?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “I keep you alive, I protect you, and you don’t even listen.”

You swallowed hard, backing up instinctively, but Joel followed, his body closing the distance between you in an instant. His hand shot out, grabbing your arm again, yanking you toward him until your chest collided with his. The force of it made you gasp, but you didn’t pull away.

“Do you understand what it’s like for me?” he hissed, his breath hot against your ear, his grip unrelenting. “Every goddamn day, I’m watching over you, makin’ sure you don’t get yourself killed. And for what?”

His fingers dug into your skin, but it wasn’t the pain that made your heart race—it was the raw intensity in his voice, the way he looked at you as if you were both a burden and something he couldn’t let go of.

His breathing was ragged, and his body was so close that you could feel the heat radiating off him.

“You’re mine to protect,” Joel muttered darkly, his voice tight with barely controlled emotion. 

“And you don’t get to fuck around like this is a game. You don’t get to make mistakes.”

Joel’s eyes flashed, and before you could react, he pulled you closer, his hand sliding up your arm, gripping your waist.

His touch was rough, possessive, and it sent a jolt of something through you—something that made your heart race even faster. His gaze was intense, his breathing ragged, and you could feel the tension radiating off him like a heatwave.

Joel’s grip on you was firm, his hand pressing against your waist, keeping you pinned close to him. 

You could feel the tension radiating off him, his body tight with barely-contained anger and something else—something darker, more possessive. His eyes were dark, his jaw clenched as he stared down at you, his fingers digging into your skin like he was trying to hold himself back.

But he wasn’t holding back anymore.

“You have no idea, do you?” Joel muttered, his voice rough and low as his eyes raked over you. “ Walkin’ around, gettin’ too close, thinkin’ I’m just gonna keep savin’ your ass without takin’ anything in return.”

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest as his words sunk in.

You’d always known Joel was different, but this… this was something else entirely. His eyes were burning with an intensity you hadn’t seen before, and the way he looked at you, the way he held you, sent a shiver down your spine.

“I can’t fuckin’ hold back no more,” Joel growled, his hand sliding up your side, rough and possessive as his fingers traced your skin under your shirt. “Every time I save you, every damn time, you get closer. You think I don’t notice?”

You blinked up at him, your pulse racing. “I didn’t—”

“Shut up,” Joel snapped, his hand moving to grip your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “You’ve been pushin’ me. You’ve been drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy, actin’ all innocent, like you don’t know what you’re doin’.” His thumb brushed over your lips, rough and demanding.

“You owe me, darlin’. You owe me for every time I’ve kept you alive.”

Your breath came in shaky gasps, your body trembling under his touch as you stared up at him, wide-eyed.

“You’re mine now - my responsibility,” Joel growled, his voice low and rough as his hand slipped lower, his fingers trailing down your body with deliberate intent.

“You understand that? You owe me, and it’s time you start payin’ me back.”

You swallowed hard, your mind spinning as Joel’s words sank in. The way he spoke, the way his body pressed against yours, left no room for doubt. Joel wasn’t asking anymore.

He was taking, and there was nothing you could do to stop him.

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your neck as his fingers tightened around your waist, his voice a low, dangerous murmur.

“You’re too fuckin’ pretty and sweet to keep walkin’ around like you don’t know what you do to me. You need to learn, and I’m gonna teach you.”

His words sent a jolt through you, your heart racing as his hands moved over your body. 

You could feel the heat of him, the raw power in the way he held you, and it made your head spin. You didn’t know what to do—didn’t know if you should fight him or let him take what he wanted. But the way he touched you, the way he looked at you like you were his, made it impossible to resist.

“You’ve been drivin’ me crazy,” Joel growled, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a low rasp. “I’ve been watchin’ you, waitin’, but I ain’t waitin’ anymore. You’re mine now, and you’re gonna thank me the way I deserve.”

Your breath hitched as his hand moved lower, his grip tightening as he held you against him, his voice dark and commanding. “You’re gonna give me what I want, and you’re gonna like it.”

His words hung in the air, thick with tension and promise, and you felt a shiver run down your spine as Joel’s hand slid down to your hips, fingers gripping you tightly.

“You don’t even know how long I’ve been wanting this,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck, sending waves of heat through your body. “Every time I save you, I think about what I could do to you. What I want to take from you.”

You swallowed hard, the way he spoke igniting something deep within you. “Joel, I—” but he silenced you with a fierce kiss, his mouth capturing yours with a possessiveness that made your head spin.

You melted against him, feeling the heat radiating off his body, the raw intensity of his desire overwhelming your senses.

“You feel my cock, baby?” he growled, pressing his hard bulge against you, his hands roaming over your skin, exploring every curve and contour.

“That’s what you do to me. You think I can just keep saving your ass without gettin’ something in return? I need something to stay motivated.”

His fingers found the waistband of your pants again, tugging them down your legs with a firm yank. You gasped, a rush of air escaping your lips as he tossed them aside, leaving you exposed and vulnerable before him.

“You owe me for every damn time,” he said, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of you, bare and trembling. “And I’m gonna collect.”

He knelt before you, his gaze locked onto your slick folds - all spread open with your little clit twitching - and you felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks.

“Finally gettin’ to see this sweet little pussy up close,” he growled, his voice low and dripping with desire. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to taste you.”

Before you could utter a word, his mouth was on you, devouring you with a fervor that made your body jerk in response.

His tongue slid over your folds with slow, deliberate strokes, dragging across your wetness, tasting you as if he had been starved for this moment. 

The pressure of his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking gently at first, before increasing his intensity, pulling a helpless gasp from your lips.

"Shh," he murmured against you, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. "Just take it. This is what you’re here for. This is my payment."

His tongue began to circle your clit, his movements slow and purposeful, as if savoring every second. The wet heat of his mouth sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, and the rough texture of his tongue made your legs tremble uncontrollably.

His lips closed around your swollen bud again, sucking harder now, each pull dragging you deeper into the haze of pleasure he was building within you.

“Look at you,” he muttered darkly, his voice a growl vibrating against your core. “This little cunt… soaking for me. My good little girl - can’t think for herself, hm?”

His fingers joined the rhythm, sliding through your wet folds, teasing your entrance but never giving you exactly what you craved.

He kept you on edge, his fingers barely entering, only to pull back, his tongue working in perfect sync as he sucked harder on your clit, then flicked it mercilessly. You could feel the pressure building inside you, every nerve alight with need, but he was in no rush. He wanted to enjoy this, to savor the control he had over you.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice filled with satisfaction as he pulled back just enough to speak. “This is my pussy. Look at how wet you are for me. I’m the only one who gets to do this to you, the only one who’s gonna make you fall apart like this.”

Without warning, he sucked your clit hard, his teeth grazing over it ever so slightly, biting your sweet pulsing clit - making your body jolt with a mix of pleasure and pain that left you gasping.

The bite was just enough to send a shock through you, but before you could fully react, his tongue was back, flicking fast over your sensitive bud, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice low and full of dark possessiveness. “This little pussy is mine to use whenever I want. You’re gonna take it and keep quiet.”

His fingers slid inside you then, filling you with a firm, confident thrust. He moved them in and out slowly, deliberately, matching the rhythm of his tongue as it continued its assault on your clit. The combined sensation of his fingers stretching you and his mouth working your swollen bud had your body trembling, the tension building impossibly high.

He sucked hard again, his lips sealing around your clit, tongue swirling over it as he thrust his fingers deeper. His possessive growls vibrated against your skin, adding to the overwhelming sensations flooding your body. He bit down gently once more, his teeth grazing your sensitive clit, and the shock of it sent a jolt of electricity through you.

“Take it,” he commanded, his voice rough, his breath hot against your core. “I’m not letting up until I’ve gotten everything.”

Your body was on fire, the relentless teasing and flicking of his tongue pushing you higher, the pressure in your core coiling tighter with every thrust of his fingers.

You were close—so close—but he wasn’t going to let you have it easily. He pulled back for a moment, admiring the way you writhed, utterly helpless against the pleasure he was giving you.

“You’re not gonna forget this,” he murmured, his eyes locked on yours with a dark intensity. “Every time you take a step, you’re gonna remember who this fuckin’ pussy belongs to.”

Then, without warning, his mouth was back on you, sucking hard, his fingers moving faster, more demanding.

He thrust them deeper inside you, curling them just right as his tongue flicked over your clit again and again, the relentless pressure pushing you right to the edge.

Your body tensed, every muscle tight as the wave built inside you, ready to break. “Cum for me, little girl,” he growled against your skin, his voice thick with dominance. “Cum for me, and don’t you dare hold back.”

And with one last powerful flick of his tongue, you shattered, the wave crashing over you as your body convulsed under the intensity of your orgasm.

The pleasure hit you in crashing waves, your body trembling uncontrollably as he continued to lick and suck, drawing out every last bit of your release. His fingers didn’t stop, thrusting slowly as your walls clenched around him, your cries filling the room as he took everything from you.

He pulled back, his lips glistening with your wetness as he looked up at you, his eyes filled with dark satisfaction. “That’s it,” he said softly, his voice still rough. “You’re mine. This pussy is mine.”

As you were there, breathless, your body still trembling from the aftershocks, he leaned down again, his lips grazing over your inner thigh - his voice low and possessive. “I’m not done with you yet.”

He loomed over you, every inch of him radiating raw, unrestrained control. His hands slid over your thighs, spreading you wide beneath him as his gaze locked on your slick folds, his eyes filled with possessive hunger. 

He moved up - his cock pressed against you, thick and hard, teasing your entrance but not giving you what you so desperately craved.

His control over you was absolute, and he loved every second of it.

“My sweet little girl,” he growled, his voice low and full of dark intent. His fingers traced along your wetness, teasing your sensitive skin, the heat of him pressing harder against your entrance, but still not pushing inside. 

“You don’t even know how much you need me, do you? You think you can take care of yourself? No, baby. I do that for you. I keep you safe, I protect you, and you’ll give me what I deserve in return.”

He thrust forward suddenly, filling you with one hard stroke, making you gasp as he stretched you to the limit.

His cock pulsed inside you, thick and unrelenting, and your body tightened around him instinctively. “That’s it,” he growled, his hips grinding against yours. “You feel that? That’s me taking what’s mine.”

His pace was slow at first, each thrust deliberate, as if he was savoring the feeling of you wrapped around him. 

His hands gripped your hips, pulling you harder against him as he began to move faster, driving into you with more force. “This pussy belongs to me, and I’ll keep you safe, baby. You’ll never have to worry about anything… as long as you let me take care of you like this. As long as you give me this tight cunt to fuck.”

He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as his hips moved against yours, his voice low and rough. His cock now pushing deeper into your gripping cunt.

“You don’t have to think, baby. I’ve got you. You don’t need to worry about a thing. I make the decisions now, you just let me take what I need from you. Yeah?”

Each word sent a shiver through you, the possessiveness in his tone making the heat between you burn even hotter. His cock drove into you harder now, each thrust hitting deeper, as if he was determined to claim every part of you. 

His hand slid up to your throat, gripping lightly, just enough to remind you who was in control. “You don’t need to think. You don’t need to decide. I do that for you. I keep you safe, baby. That’s what I’m here for.”

His pace quickened, each thrust harder and more demanding, the sound of your bodies meeting filling the room.

His grip tightened on your throat, his thumb pressing gently on your pulse as his hips slammed into yours with relentless force. “You like that?” he growled, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Me taking care of you? You’ll never feel pain, never be unsafe, as long as you’re mine.”

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your neck, his breath hot and ragged as he whispered against your skin.

“You couldn’t survive without me. You need me to protect you… and this is what you give me in return. This sweet fuckin’ pussy, all mine. I can feel how much she needs me, how tight she’s squeezing me.”

His thrusts became erratic, more desperate as the pleasure built between you. His cock filled you perfectly, his hands gripping you tightly as he pounded into you, the force of his thrusts pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“I’m the only one who gets to fuck you like this,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “The only one who makes you come. You don’t need to think, baby. I do that for you.”

The pressure inside you built higher, your body tightening around him as he drove you toward the breaking point. His hands moved down your body, gripping your hips harder, pulling you against him with each powerful thrust. “You’re mine to protect, mine to fuck, mine to keep safe. And I’ll keep doing it as long as you keep giving me this pussy.”

His words were pushing you closer and closer, the raw intensity of his voice mixing with the physical sensation of him inside you.

His hips moved faster, harder, as he took you completely, the rhythm of his thrusts relentless and commanding.

“Come for me, baby,” he growled, his voice thick with dominance.

“I want to feel this cunt squeeze my cock. I want to feel you give me everything. That’s what you’re here for, hm? To make me feel good. To keep me happy.”

His words sent you over the edge, your body tightening around him as the wave of pleasure crashed through you. You cried out, your voice breaking as your orgasm tore through you, your body trembling beneath him as he kept thrusting, driving you through every wave of release.

“That’s it,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased his own release. “You’re perfect for me. I’m the only one who gets this, the only one who makes you feel like this.”

His body trembled as he came, his groans mixing with your gasps, his cock pulsing deep inside you as he filled you completely.

The weight of him stayed pressed against you, his breath heavy and ragged, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he stayed right there, still buried deep inside you, his cock warm and hard within you, as though he couldn’t bear to lose the connection between your bodies.

For a long, quiet moment, the world seemed to stop. His chest rose and fell against yours, your heartbeats gradually slowing, but his cock remained where it was, still throbbing slightly, refusing to let go. His hands moved down your sides, gentle but possessive, his touch tracing over your skin as though reminding you exactly who you belonged to.

“Imma stay inside you,” he murmured, his voice low and rough in your ear. His lips brushed against your neck, planting soft, possessive kisses along your skin. “You feel too good, baby. I’m not ready to leave yet.”

He shifted slightly, his body still pressed firmly against yours, his cock still resting deep within you, a steady warmth radiating between your bodies.

His fingers moved slowly, lazily, slipping between your legs to where you were still slick with your combined release. His fingertips grazed your swollen clit, making your body jolt, even in the soft afterglow of what had just happened. 

“You’re still so sensitive,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear as his fingers continued their slow, teasing exploration. 

He barely touched you, just enough to keep the sensation alive, his cock twitching slightly inside you as he shifted his hips ever so gently. “But you can handle it, can’t you, baby? Just let me stay right here, let me keep feeling you.”

The slow circling of his fingers, combined with the fullness of him still inside you, kept your senses buzzing, every nerve in your body still on edge. His hand moved with the lightest touch, but it was enough to keep the heat simmering just beneath the surface.

You felt the weight of his possessiveness in his every movement, his control over you still present, even in the gentleness of his touch.

He lifted his head slightly, his lips brushing your cheek, his voice softer but still filled with that dark promise.

“You don’t need to worry about anything. I’ve got you. You just stay right here… under me, with my cock still inside you. This is where you belong. Can’t do nothin’ wrong here.”

His words made your body shiver, even as his fingers continued their lazy circling, barely touching but enough to keep you sensitive, aware of him.

Your breath hitched, your mind spinning with the intensity of the connection you shared. The control he had over you, even in this moment of softness, was undeniable, and a question formed on your lips—tentative, but needing to be asked.

“So you’ll keep me safe?” you whispered, your voice breathless, a mix of need and vulnerability. “You won’t leave me now… and ever?”

For the first time, you spoke, and the words seemed to hang in the air between you. His gaze softened slightly as he looked down at you, but the possessiveness in his eyes remained.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, slow kiss, his hand still resting on your thigh, fingers still gently teasing you.

“I’ll never leave you,” he murmured against your lips, his voice warm but full of that same commanding promise. “You’re mine, baby. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll protect you from everything. You’ll never have to think for yourself again… not when I’m here to take care of you.”

His fingers slowed, his touch even lighter now, more like a reminder of the control he held over your body.

His cock was still inside you, the warmth of him filling you completely as he spoke, each word laced with dark satisfaction. “This is where you belong, with me inside you. I’m the only one who can keep you safe… the only one who gets to touch you like this.”

He kissed you again, slower this time, his lips soft but possessive. His hand moved up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin as if to reassure you of the promise he was making.

“You don’t have to worry about anything,” he whispered, his breath mingling with yours. “I’ll always protect you… as long as you keep giving me everything.”

He stayed there, his body still pressed against yours, his cock still warm inside you, the closeness between you tangible and intense. His kisses grew softer, lingering, his fingers still gently teasing at your oversensitive skin, keeping you connected, keeping you grounded in the possessive warmth of his embrace.

“And remember,” he said softly, a hint of menace in his tone, “there’s no turning back now.”

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

[toxicanonymity]

I am humbly crawling to your page to confess my latest obsession: serial breeder!Joel.

no outbreak!universe Joel without Sarah, an old creep who lives in a lone house where every woman goes to get bred.

basement breeder

joel miller x f!reader, 1k words

Ty for this delicious thot. Almost sounds like you know who 🍃 in another life where he has them coming and going at all hours as gossip says. Standalone. WARNINGS: 18+ PWP imagine, break-in, manhandling, breeding piv, degradation, praise, mating press, carries you, pet names.

Imagine going there to get bred while you're consciously on birth control, and he gets obsessed with impregnating you specifically. You show him a positive fertility test, and he gets more aggressive. God damn, he's gonna make this work. Meanwhile, you don't seek him out the next time you (would) ovulate, and he notices, wonders if you're giving up or letting some other guy take a shot. That ain't gonna fly. . .

He quietly breaks into your dim basement while you're folding laundry on your dryer, wearing earbuds. From behind, a hand clamps over the lower half of your face. You scream into his massive palm while his other arm wraps around you, biceps bulging, stretching his white tee. He pins you against the dryer, and the warm, hard shape you feel through his pj pants sends a rush of need to your core.

With you pinned there by his clothed arousal, the arm around you falls away. His free hand brushes the shell of your ear then nudges your earbud out. He reaches to repeat this on the other side, then wraps his arm around you again and gives your breast a squeeze. He brings his mouth close to your ear, and his voice is deep and low. "Stayin' home like it ain't the most important day'a the month."

Oooh, is he mad? God, he's hot like this.

When you struggle, he adds, "Or *did ya* stay home? ... You some kinda cumslut now?"

You subtly shake your head 'no', with your nostrils brushing against the edge of his hand.

"Nah," his hips push forward, "you want this cum," he grinds.

You go quiet and relax your body. He thrusts against you at a slow rhythm, and you're getting wet. A little "Mm?" slips from your lips into his palm.

"Yeahh, that's right," he continues, "Want it bad, don't ya, pumpkin?"

"Mm," you just barely nod.

"Good girl," he says and takes his hand away from your mouth.

You clear your throat. "I was just tired."

"Tired," he laughs. "That's a good one."

He's normally good about foreplay--with you, at least - your body and your scent turns him on so bad. His hands are incredible, and he touches you just how you like it. He's even been known to bury his face between your legs. But this time, he's fully on a mission.

He hikes up your skirt and pulls your panties aside, then spits on his hand and pats the saliva between your legs.

"Ooh," he reacts to your warm, wet cunt against his lingering hand. "Didn't needa do all that, did i? Shit, you're always ready for me." He tugs down his pj pants, then his warm, smooth cockhead prods at your cunt, smearing precum into his saliva and your desire. You bend forward and rest your forearms on the clean laundry abandoned in front of you, then scoot your feet back to give him a better angle.

"Good girl," he whispers.

He buries his length in you with a groan, and your insides spread around his girth. "I'll knock ya'up, baby." He holds your waist, and with a punch of his cock he bottoms out, "Ahh." When he withdraws a few inches, you spread your feet, tilt your hips, and push back on him. "Hell yeah." He bottoms out again, then grabs your hips with both hands and pounds you.

He's on a mission - he's not trying to make it last. And he's been aching hard ever since he got it in his mind to do this. He was palming himself over his pants for relief as he walked up to your basement door.

He's giving it to you hard and stiff, weeping precum into your poor stretched hole with every powerful thrust. "Yeah, take it, baby," he breathes, and promises, "put a baby in ya," making you twitch and throb, close to bliss. When he picks up the pace, pummeling you near jackhammer speed, his words are broken by his rhythm, "ahhh, yeahhh--- cum on this cock." When you whine he says, "yeahhh, you want this cum," and you see stars.

You unravel and moan his name, feeling your face heat up after it slips out.

"Fuck yeah," he breathes, pounding you through it.

He abruptly pulls out, and you whimper at the loss. You start to protest, but he takes your panties all the way down, leaving your twitching pussy bare. He forces you around to face him, then bends his knees and you put your arms around him as he lifts you. You wrap your legs around him, and he sinks you onto his stiff cock, letting out a grunt as he bottoms out. After adjusting your weight, he walks you to your nearby bed. With each step, your clit rubs against him.

He lays you down and folds you into a mating press. His thrusts are hard and deep. "ungh," he grunts, "yeah," another thrust, "ohh fuck, " he bottoms out and throbs, warmth gushing into your depths. "God damn, baby." With another hot burst, he deepens the mating press, determined for his seed to take. Your thighs feel a deep stretch. He hovers over your face, and a drop of sweat hits your cheek.

Breathing heavily, he inches back then thrusts forward again, repeating this action a few times as his balls empty. The last thrust ends with a sigh. With his work done–for now–he stays inside and keeps you in the mating press. He wets his lips, admiring your face. “God damn, you look hot like this.”

"yeah?" You reply.

Nodding slowly, he dips his head and scans your body with hungry eyes. He can't help but pull his hips back an inch to admire the sight of your cunt spread around his fat cock. And God damn, what a sight. Not planning on pulling out any time soon, he fully sheathes himself with a low, soft grunt.

"shit, I oughta clear my schedule," he muses, glancing up from where your bodies are joined. He subtly nods and shifts his eyes around as though thinking it over, rocking his hips absent-mindedly. "Yeah," he concludes, "if this don't take ... take ya to my place 'til it does."

--

--

--

Basement Breeder Adjacent

Night walks Joel has breeder energy but only with reader.

For breaking into your basement, Sleeping Beauty - CNC home invasion / somnophilia with another night walks doppelganger.

For serial breeding, a post-outbreak one shot, the old fashioned way, a different Joel and he's a real professional, not a creep.

TYSM for reading, friends. And truly, thank you for your engagement and support. You're a light in my life when it's in shambles lol. Love y'all 🫶🏼

[strang3lov3]

Better or Worse

“So,” Joel says, wrapping his arm around your side and pulling you against his bare torso, “Daddy’s gonna stuff ya full and slow the bleed. That way you’re not soakin’ through the mattress all night. S’that make sense, Pumpkin?”

Tags - dark daddy!joel, one shot, dubcon, smut, unprotected piv, daddy kink/ddlg dynamics, kinda icky/invasive at times, girthy legal age gap, diminutive nicknames, period sex, liiitle bit of blood kink, cockwarming, big dick joelie makes it fit, blood as lube, the cramps that hurt you feel good for joel lmao, fingering, somno, dark fluff, implied captivity, pms symptoms - reader is described as feeling/looking bloated and having some acne, was previously malnourished and missing her period. Joel's not so scarydaddy here, guys. Pretty gentle and sweet in this one if I do say so myself. 5k words A/N - hey gamers :) told yall I didn’t forget about dark daddy!! Thank you for your patience, and I hope it hits the spot. Love y'all.

You’ve been reading the same sentence over and over in your book for what feels like hours, maybe. Can’t remember the last time you turned a page and at this point, and you can’t remember what’s going on in the story. All you feel is an awful, nagging throb in your skull, pulsing in your fucking ear. It’s like TV fuzz in your brain. 

You get up with a stretch, pausing to sit back down because you stood up too fast, and all that blood rushing back to your brain makes your head pound even worse. At least it’s overcast out, right? God, the thought of sunlight makes you want to puke. You have no clue why you feel so bad right now. You’re not sick. 

When you’re ready, you head to the kitchen and open the cabinet where Joel keeps some odds and ends. A basket full of old, loose bandaids that have long since turned yellow. Petroleum jelly. Allen wrenches and Flintstone vitamins that are all melted together and stuck at the bottom of the bottle. Just shit that should’ve been thrown away long ago, or made its way down from the medicine cabinet upstairs and never returned home. 

Tylenol. It’s right on the top shelf, just out of reach. You stand on your toes to reach it, using your fingertips to nudge it closer to the edge. You try to catch it before it falls, but a larger hand beats you to it. “Nuh-uh,” Joel says, snatching the bottle right up. “You save that for your old man, hm? My back’s thirty goddamn years older’n yours, kid.” 

“So?” 

“So,” Joel drawls, “You leave ‘em be. Them pills are in short supply, too.” And old, and losing potency. Joel idly wonders if they even do anything anymore, if they’re just placebos at this point. Placebo or not, they’re his. “Whatcha even need Tylenol for, honey?” 

“I have a headache,” you answer, mentally cursing yourself as soon as the words slip from your lips. “Fuck.” 

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up at the swear; a simple, wordless warning is all the acknowledgment he gives it. “I know you didn’t just say a headache. What am I gonna tell ya?” 

“I don’t knowwww,” you murmur, avoiding Joel’s gaze. 

“Yes, y’do. What’m I gonna say?”

That you’re probably dehydrated. But you don’t answer Joel. You just slide past him and reach for the knob of a different cabinet door, picking out your favorite glass - it’s decorated in images of a little black cat, the paint faded and scratched and gray. Joel says the cat’s name is Felix. Was a cartoon he used to watch as a kid.

You fill your glass with water and drink it, eyeing Joel the whole time. He stands with his arms crossed, biceps bulging in his t-shirt as he wears his stupid, knowing grin, a grin that you can’t help but smile back at. Joel chuckles fondly at you smiling into the glass. 

You sigh as you set your glass down, refreshed by the cool water. “Attagirl,” Joel praises, then takes a couple of strides across the kitchen and meets you at the sink and fills your glass right back up. “Again.” 

“Again?”

“Mhm.”

You drink the second glass, glaring at him the whole time. Making a little show of it, just to rub his nose in your irritation a little. “Oh, I know. It’s so terrible, havin’ clean water to drink. I torture ya, don’t I?”

“You do, though.”

You take your place back on the couch, opening up your book again. Joel follows you, then gently removes the book from your hands. “Hey–” He finds your bookmark and places it between the pages, remembering when you told him, “I don’t like when you do that.”

“Do what?” he’d asked.

“Fold the pages.”

He hasn’t dog-eared a page of yours since. Joel places the book on the end table, then takes your head between both of his large palms, and tilts it back, back, resting you against the plush upholstery of the couch. And then, oh. Joel’s rubbing your temples with his calloused thumbs, watching as those favorite eyes of his slide shut. “Mmm…” you sigh, melting under his warm hands. 

“That helpin’ a little?”

A lazy nod of your head has Joel chuckling. You’re just like a kitten, happily purring like he’s scratching your fuzzy little chin with those big fingers of his, all curled up and blissed out. 

“What’s got your head achin’, Pumpkin?”

You shrug. Joel looks out the window at the blooming flowers you’ve been watering on his porch, taking very special care of. God, you. Your innocence. Joel’s sweet, tender-hearted girl. It really does drive him fucking nuts that you leave food on the porch, attracting raccoons all sorts of other critters late at night. Chipmunks in the morning, chipmunks you’ve named and fattened up and giggle at. Joel sighs, “Maybe it’s the weather changin’. Or allergies, or somethin’ like that.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “Maybe.”

Hours later, Joel finds you in the hallway, standing just inches away from the big, dusty mirror. You’re pulling the fabric of your shirt taught over your stomach, frowning at the reflected image before lifting the shirt’s hem and poking at yourself experimentally. 

He stands behind you, putting his two, large palms on your shoulders. “Whatcha poutin’ about now, sweetheart?” he asks, rubbing you with his thumbs. He kisses the top of your head to see if you’ll smile, but you don’t. “Thought we fixed that achy head’a yours.” 

“I’m like…bloated or something,” you mumble, pinching and prodding at your soft stomach. You turn to the side and then suck in your gut, and frown harder. 

Joel hates the look on your face. Your brows pinched together, eyes narrowed at your reflection as you visually pick yourself apart, scrutinizing every little detail of yourself that Joel loves. Trying to fix a problem that’s not there. “Hey, knock it off, kiddo. S’enough.” Joel pushes your hand away. “A lil’ tummy never hurt no one. S’okay,” he urges softly, rubbing your arm. What’s going on with you?

“No, Joel. Lookl–” 

“Listen, Pumpkin,” Joel jokes, patting his own stomach, “Your old man ain’t exactly model-thin, either. See?” hoping it’ll make you laugh, but it doesn’t. Instead, you’re ignoring him and onto the next thing, focusing on a tiny little blemish on your chin. He exhales through his nose, “I said, enough, sweetheart. Quit pickin’ at yourself.” 

“But I have a zit.” 

Joel spins you around, looking at the little mark himself. He frowns and furrows his brows, chewing on his lip as he examines your face. “Daddy, please,” you whine, pulling away from him. “Don’t look at me. I look horrible.” 

Joel wonders where a comment like that came from. He’s saddened by it, honestly, and confused. You don’t look horrible. Just the opposite, in fact. 

“M’your daddy, an’ I’ll look at that beautiful face if I wanna.” He holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger as he turns your face slowly to the left and then to the right, admiring every detail on your skin - including that little zit. 

After pausing, Joel clicks his tongue. “Ah, shit. Y’know what, I think you’re right,” he mutters solemnly. “God. This is just terrible, honey.” 

Your face drops, and your eyes go wide at his words. “What?”

“Mhm. Reckon we’re gonna have to amputate.” Joel tsks then, a smile playing at the corner of his lip. “Damn, what a shame. I kinda liked ya, kid. Ooohhhhh welllll…” 

Now that earns him a smile. And an eye roll, of course, and you gently shoving him away. But Joel catches your arm and pulls you in for a hug, kissing the top of your head again. 

“You’re not funny, Daddy.” 

“Eh. Maybe so. Think I’ll live,” Joel shoots back. 

“You don’t get it. I look…I don’t know. It’s like - like–” you stutter, trying to find the words. Everything is wrong. Your face, your body, your hair. Your mood. You. You almost feel claustrophobic, surrounded by your own upset. There’s this constant, nagging storm cloud that follows you around, and it’s raging inside you too. Inescapable.

“Daddy sure as hell ain’t ever won a beauty pageant in his whole life, darlin’. See all these wrinkles? Y’got my ugly mug beat by a landslide, honey.”

“But those are wrinkles,” you argue. “Not a fat fu…” you stop yourself before you swear again, “Zit,” you say.

“What if I told you I had a face full’a zits when I was your age?”

“It wouldn’t matter. That was forever ago.” 

Joel scoffs. Always have an answer for everything, don’t you? “Watch it. Wasn’t forever ago.” Joel’s brows briefly pinch together as he quickly does the mental math - it kind of was forever ago, actually. “‘Sides. There’s always gonna be somethin’ on ya that you don’t like. Gotta learn to live with it, right?”

“I guess,” you mumble.

“Sweetheart, y’look fine,” Joel whispers, holding your cheeks in his palms. “You’re beautiful. Ain’t no two ways about it.” He rubs your soft skin with his thumbs, so profoundly tender and gentle. “What’s gotten ya feelin’ so blue today?” 

“I don’t know,” you tell Joel, initiating a hug on your own. You don’t always do that, and it catches Joel off guard a little. He just hugs you back, watching the two of you in the mirror. Your face buried in his chest, looking so…down. Joel cups the bottom of your skull in his large hand, kisses the top of your head, and then trails his fingers down your spine. 

You’re squirmy on the couch. Constantly shifting as you shove handful after handful of popcorn into your mouth. Joel hasn’t seen you eat so voraciously since he found you all those months ago, and returned to you the second day with a warm thermos of chicken and noodles. Not like he minds, though. Eat him out of house and home, that’s what he’s there for. Joel makes no comment on your appetite. 

“My stomach hurts,” you mumble through a mouthful of popcorn. 

But he does have an inkling of what may be going on. 

“Maybe y’need to go potty,” Joel offers. 

“No,” you shake your head. “Not like that. It’s like…I don’t know.”

It’d make sense, right? You’ve been in his care for months now, healthy again. No longer malnourished, eating proteins and fats and vegetables on the regular. And if he is right, it’d explain the bloating, and the acne - again, not that he gives a shit. And it’d explain your mood, too. Or not. You’ve always been a little testy with him, a little bratty. To be expected. Joel’s given you boundaries, and it’s natural for you to want to push on them. Find out how serious he is. You’ve learned many times, though it never seems to stick. Persistent, persistent girl...

Joel guesses that he’ll see. 

You sit up and peel off your blanket, dropping it on Joel’s lap. “Where are you off to?” Joel asks. 

“I think I’m ready for bed,” you yawn, holding a hand on your lower stomach. 

“Yeah?” Joel stands up, the blanket falls to the floor. “Okay. Well, lemme tuck ya in and kiss ya goodnight, honey.”

You take his hand as you lead Joel up the stairs, dragging him by two of his fingers. His knees pop with every step he takes, god. He’s getting so old. Joel follows you into your bedroom, watches as you lie on the bed, then turn onto your side and clutch your tummy. You’re all curled up, like you’re attempting to hide from the pain. Poor thing. 

The dresser groans as Joel opens the drawer second from the top. He’ll have to grease those wheels inside soon. He picks out a nice pajama set - flowy white shorts and a shirt with little ducks on them. Joel turns around, then hovers over you on your bed. He pulls off your pants and panties with ease, then tosses the garments into your laundry basket and wriggles the pajama shorts up your legs. “Lift up for me,” he says, and you moan as you lift your hips. He takes you by the hand and lifts your torso up next, shushing your cries of discomfort. “Arms up, baby girl. Real quick.”

Joel takes your shirt off and dresses you in the pajama top next, and smoothes out the fabric over your curves with his wide hands. “I always liked these on ya,” Joel murmurs. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. They’re my favorite, I think. I like those ducks.” 

Joel smiles warmly. You smile back. You’re not feeling so good, but it’s been a good day with Joel. Tender, easy. You don’t always get to have good days with him. So often, it’s the push and pull; the tide meeting the shore, crashing together and pulling apart. You’re too similar for your own good, and sometimes, too different. But the good days are good. 

Joel kisses you on the forehead, then on the nose, and finally on your lips. Soft, gentle. “G’night, kiddo.” Joel gives your hand a comforting squeeze. “I love ya. M’always thinkin’ of ya,” he rhymes, tucking you in under your covers. With one last kiss, he bids you goodbye, and turns out the overhead light and takes care to turn on your nightlight. He shuts your door, hoping you’ll feel yourself in the morning.

When you wake up hours later, there’s still a dull, pulsing ache in your abdomen. Like a fist is groping at your insides, and then - a long, firm squeeze, or more of a pinch, rather. It’s so extremely painful that it has you squirming and twisting, crying out in agony. 

And there it is - the sticky feeling between your thighs. You’re utterly soaked, inner thighs slick and warm with, with…blood. You turn on your lamp and your eyes widen at the sight in front of you. 

It’s everywhere. Shades of crimson and brown soaking through your sheets, staining those patterned pretty stars all red. The fabric is shiny with your blood, as are your pajamas. It’s all between your thighs and running up your back. Fucking everywhere. 

You forgot all about your period, as it’s been so long since you’ve had one. You knew it’d come back when Joel brought you to his home, but it still takes you by surprise. The bleed is so fucking heavy you can feel it dripping from you, that slippery, awful, visceral feeling. Your face burns as you rip your sheets off of your bed in a panic, swallowing nervously when you see that your mattress is stained, too. 

You drag everything to the bathroom and toss it into the tub, frantically rubbing a bar of soap on the stains as water pours over it. You take off your pajamas too, crying at the image of those blood-stained ducks. Joel’s favorite set. Oh god, he’s gonna be so upset with you. He’ll, he’ll - fuck. You brace yourself for the inevitable, for the rage.

Joel wakes up to the noise of the tub, the loud stream of water drumming against the sheets. There’s rattling and commotion coming from the bathroom, quiet sniffling and crying. He’s all but completely sure he knows what’s wrong as he gets out of bed and takes heavy steps towards the hall and - his intuition was correct. Drops of blood on the floor, a large stain on your mattress. Joel sighs deeply and taps his knuckles against the door, its frame outlined in the warm, yellow light coming from inside. 

“Open up, Pumpkin.” 

“Fuck,” you curse, eyes blurry with tears. “Joel - I can’t, Daddy.” Your voice is thick with tears. Joel’s heart aches at the way you choke on your own sobs. 

“Yes, y’can. Open this door,” Joel repeats, and his voice is measured, patient. 

“I really - I can’t,” you tell him, hands on either side of your head as you panic. The blood isn’t washing out much, and you - fuck. You’re covered in it yourself. As is the bathroom. 

“M’not gonna be mad at ya, kiddo. Whatever it is.” 

Joel listens to you take a couple of deep, shuddering breaths. “P-promise?”

“On my life.”

There’s a couple of footsteps, and then the door opens about an inch. Joel’s brows furrow as he takes in what he can of you - eyes stained by tears, blood dripping between your thighs. You nudge the door open just a little more, then fit your hand through the crack and offer Joel your pinkie. Joel raises his own hand, loops his pinkie around yours, and kisses your knuckles. He raises his eyebrows, silently asking again that you let him in. Those dark eyes are soft and patient. Warm. 

You open the door the rest of the way, allowing Joel to take it all in. The mess in the bathtub and on the floor, and you standing before him, dripping a vermillion mess. “Oh, Pumpkin.” 

Joel pulls you into a tight hug, hushing your sobs as you tell him over and over, you’re so sorry. You’re so sorry, Daddy. 

“What the hell are you sorry for, sweet girl?”

“F-for the sheets, and for ruining the mattress. And m-my-m–”

“Deep breaths, hon.”

“--My pajamas,” you continue, without stopping to breathe. 

Joel nods, understanding. “Nothin’ t’be sorry about. It’s a natural part’a life, right?”

“Y-yeah, but–”

“But nothin’. It ain’t your fault, sweetheart.”

“Please don’t be angry,” you whimper. “I really tried.”

Joel feels a pressure building behind his own eyes. He’s getting so soft as he ages, and he knows what he’s done to you. The fear he’s instilled. The guilt eats him alive, sometimes. 

“Ohhh, I’m not mad at you a bit, sweet girl. Not a bit.” Joel gently pushes you an inch back, pinching at your hair that’s stuck to your sticky cheeks. He clicks his tongue as more tears fall, wiping them away with his rough fingertips. It hurts a little, the skin under your eyes so sensitive and raw and puffy right now. “Let’s get this mess cleaned up, huh?” You nod. “Go wash your face in the sink,” Joel tells you, crouching by the tub. 

He grabs the sheets and chuckles as he squeezes the water out of them. “Well, ya can’t use warm water, knucklehead. Stain ain’t gonna budge an inch f’ya do that.” 

Joel’s eyes widen as you let out a sob at the comment, crying hard once again. Jesus, your emotions are all over the place. Poor girl. “Heeey, enough. Enough with the waterworks, alright? I’m gonna take care of it.” 

“B-”

Joel bunches up the wet sheets and stands up, holding your chin between the fingers of his free hand. “I need you to calm down, kiddo. It’s okay. Y’understand me? It’s all gonna be okay.”

“Okay,” you sniffle. “Okay.” 

Joel leaves the water on. “Gonna clean this up and see if I can’t find ya somethin’ for your monthly,” he says. “You get in the tub and rinse yourself off a little, alright? An’ the water’ll feel good on your achin’ tummy, too,” he advises.

Joel’s right. You sit in the tub and put the rubber stopper in the drain, letting the water fill up and soothe your cramps as Joel takes care of everything else. He scrubs your mattress and the sheets with peroxide, watching the bloodstains bubble up in shades of red and orange. It’s not perfect, but nothing is. It’ll do.

He tosses the sheets in a laundry bag, and will probably end up dropping it off at the laundromat tomorrow morning. He checks his supply closet for some old tampons or pads or something, but there’s nothing. Unless he wanted to get creative with some washrags, but…

…In truth, Joel’s been waiting for this. Maybe even planned it. He knew one day or another you’d get your period, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make his cock twitch to think about it. Sinking inside that warm, wet, bleeding cunt…

Joel comes back into the bathroom, running a hand through his graying hair as he checks behind the mirror and under the sink. “Got bad news for ya, kiddo,” he sighs, shutting the cabinets. “I’m empty.”

“So I just have to sit here until it’s over?”

“Nah, ‘course not. Gimme a minute and I’ll show ya what’m gonna do with ya.” Joel bends over and touches your scalp, then presses a kiss against your forehead. “Empty the tub an’ dry off. Come to my room when you’re done.” 

Joel leaves you and leaves the bathroom door open. You listen to him grab a couple of things from the closet, and the sound of rustling fabric and blankets coming from his bedroom. The drain gurgles as you let the water out and dry yourself off, cringing at the blood staining the towel, too. You tiptoe to Joel’s room.

His bed is made neatly with layers of old blankets and towels, and he has you sit on them. You squirm, uncomfortable with the idea of bleeding freely. “But I’m gonna ruin these, too.”

“Nah, don’t fuss over it. They’ve all seen better days,” Joel laughs. “Get comfy. Lie down.” 

You lie on the bed, shivering as Joel joins you. He removes his clothes and his cock is standing at half attention already, bouncing between his thighs as he adjusts his pillows. “You’re bleedin’ too heavy to go bare,” Joel explains, pumping his cock with his fist. 

“Okay…”

“So,” Joel continues, wrapping his arm around your side and pulling you against his bare torso, “Daddy’s gonna stuff ya full and slow the bleed. That way you’re not soakin’ through the mattress all night. S’that make sense, Pumpkin?”

It does. You turn your head and nod, but Joel can see in your eyes how nervous you are with the idea. That, coupled with your bleed. Of course you’re anxious, insecure. 

“We’ll go slow,” he promises. “An’ in the morning I’ll fetch ya some supplies when I drop your sheets off. Sound good?”

“Okay, Daddy.” 

Joel kisses you on the lips, then adjusts the way you lay on his bed, pulling you onto your back. “M’gonna give ya my fingers first, alright? Get ya ready for it.” He parts your legs, smiling as you take your place. You bury your head into his neck, same as you always do. The eye contact is hard for you sometimes, not that Joel minds. He finds it endearing how bashful you get. 

He licks his fingers - force of habit - and drags them up and down the seam of your wet, bleeding center, smiling at your sigh of relief. Poor thing, you’re all pent up, too. And your cunt aches, and simply needs a loving touch. 

Joel circles your clit, waiting for your body to relax into him. It’ll take a minute, sure. He whispers to you how beautiful you are, how much he loves to make you feel like this. How special that is, sweetheart. It’s Daddy’s favorite thing. 

He’s quiet as he dips one thick finger inside you, then two. Slipping them slowly inside, palm pressed against your mound. Joel pumps them in and out of you, acclimating you to the intrusion. And then, he curls them. Curls them, pulses them rhythmically up towards that special, spongy spot deep inside you. Joel feels your body warm as he fucks you on his fingers, listens to the quiet, breathy whimpers of your pleasure. 

Joel pulls his fingers from you, and notices the frown on your face as you see your own mess on his hands. “Don’t look,” he tells you, and wipes them on a towel. Blood remains caked around his fingernails, though. “Eyes on me.” 

You nod, and Joel turns you so your back is faced to him. He pushes your legs apart, then poises his cock at your entrance. “I’m goin’ easy on ya,” he promises. “Nice an’ slow.” 

“Yeah,” you murmur, reaching for his forearm as he presses against you. 

“An’ I know it ain’t - fuck - ideal,” Joel grunts, notching his tip inside your aching, bleeding cunt, hushing your cries of pain as his length starts to fill you. “But we gotta make do. Just can’t have ya bleedin’ everywhere, honey.” 

“I - I know, but it hurts, Daddy,” you warn, squirming at the intrusion. “It’s - yeah. It’s hurting.” 

“Oh, I know it hurts, pumpkin.” Joel licks his fingers and reaches between your legs for your clit, rubbing the sensitive part of you as he eases his way inside. “You’re bein’ a real trooper. Deep breath,” he instructs, “Do it with me. In–” and sucks in a breath, motioning for you to follow. “And out.” 

On your exhale, Joel pushes all the way in, bottoming out with a grunt, and a whimper follows from your own lips. “There it is. Piece’a cake,” he pants through a grin, throbbing inside of you. 

You squeeze your eyes shut at the painful pinch, focusing instead on the way Joel rubs your sore, cramping abdomen with his warm palm. “M’so sorry you’re not feelin’ good. But you’re bein’ so good f’me,” he coos, his cock twitching. “My sweet fuckin’ girl.” 

Joel holds you against him as he reaches for his lamp, then pulls the chain and shuts the light off. He drops against you, sighing deeply as you squirm on his cock. 

The pain of the stretch dissipates as the minutes pass, and Joel’s breathing steadies. The ache is replaced by a different pain, a squeezing, aching cramp that overtakes your whole body. You groan in discomfort, clenching tightly around Joel, and it makes his breath catch in his throat. 

“It’s - it’s hurting, still,” you grimace. 

“What hurts, Pumpkin? Where?”

“It’s not you,” you answer. “My - fuck, I’m sorry. My cramps.” 

Joel rubs your belly harder, though it doesn’t do so much to soothe your pain. You whimper as another particularly bad cramp washes over you, balling your hands into fists around Joel’s fingers. “Oh, honey. M’so sorry,” he whispers. “Aint’ fair what you girls gotta go through.” 

Joel thinks for a minute, considering your pain and his own discomfort. Fuck, you are tight. And every horrible cramp that plagues your body only serves to pleasure him, what with the way you squeeze and pulse around him through the pain. “M’gonna try somethin’, sweetheart,” he whispers, shifting on the bed. 

Joel pulls out of you slowly, then thrusts back inside. Not hard, not fast. Gentle and steady, nice and slow. He does it again, conscious to rub that sweet place inside you, and not to bruise your cervix with his head. 

“S’that better or worse?” he asks softly. 

Joel does it again. A slow draw out, that gradual push back in. The cramping fades into the background as that special, satisfying feeling takes over instead. 

“Hurtin’ or helpin’?”

“Y– Oh, Daddy,” you coo, your grip softening around his fingers. 

Joel smiles, satisfied. “Ohh, s’helpin’, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s helping.” 

Joel keeps fucking you slowly, dropping your hand to reach for your clit. He noses your ear and presses kisses against your neck, feeling your heartbeat pulse under his lips. The way he rolls his hips against you has you biting your lip and moaning his name, though it all comes out in little half-syllables. “Daddy’s here,” Joel whispers. “I gotcha.” 

He builds the speed a little, focusing only on your pleasure at the moment. The head of his cock rubs exactly where you need it to as he massages your clit with practiced circles that have you sighing in pleasure, inching closer and closer to your release. “Go ‘head and cum for me,” Joel rasps, “Let go, Pumpkin.” 

It’s not immediate, but it’s close enough. Just one, two, three more strokes and you’re cumming hard on Joel’s length, pulsing and clenching around him in non-rhythm. Joel fucks you through your climax until your quiet moaning subsides, and all that’s left is heavy breathing. 

…But the groans of pain return. Such a sour ending to something so sweet. It’s how it always seems to go with you, though.

Joel winces, sucking in a breath through his teeth. “Goddamn, kid. Cramps still ain’t lettin’ up, are they?”

“Guess not,” you murmur. 

“Want me to whoop ‘em?”

You laugh, and the motion of your body on his cock has Joel humming. “M’serious. Let me give ya one more, baby. You need’a get your rest.” 

Joel fucks you again, just as he did before. He’s a patient, patient man. Achingly hard and focused on your pleasure, focused on easing your hurt. When you cum again, when Joel’s drawn out every bit of pleasure from you that he could, he waits with bated breath for your whine of pain to follow - and it never does. 

What he does hear, however, is your gentle snoring. Joel exhales in relief, and begins fucking you for the third time. This time, for himself. 

He does so slowly but still at his own pace, focusing on his pleasure. Just a steady rocking of his hips, a consistent drawing in and out of your wet, bleeding pussy. Joel holds you tightly against his chest, breathing in that comforting, familiar scent of the top of your head. He savors the specific heat coming off of your body - you’re a little warmer than usual - and the feeling of his bare skin against yours. 

Joel’s so hard and rigid, and there’s a pressure quickly building in his balls and deep in his gut. He pulls you flush against his chest as he cums with a deep, guttural groan that escapes through his teeth, moaning while he paints your insides, all those muscles tensing and relaxing. 

He relaxes against you, kissing your ear as he settles into the soft mattress, cock going soft inside your body, still pulsing with every beat of his heart. 

Joel loves you so much. He tells you this as he drifts off to sleep, as that pretty, pinkish mixture of his spend and your blood drips down, down your thighs, seeping into the old towel underneath you. 

-

More dark daddy!joel here

Aaaaand kitty pics, cuz it’s been a while. If you enjoyed, please reblog with something sweet and horny or hop in my inbox and dirty talk me there :) your kind words keep me so motivated to write.

[sweetpascal]

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 — 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞

gif by @iamasaddie

pairing: perv!stepdad!joel x fem!reader

summary: it's the first day under your stepdad's care, and boredom hasn't crept in at all. you suggest having a movie night, and to your surprise, he agrees immediately.

warnings: MINORS DNI. age gap [18/52], pervy thoughts, joel is condescending, sweet nicknames (sweetheart, babydoll), joel calls himself 'daddy', overprotective joel (in a bad way), innocence kink, DUB-CON, NON-CON, sloppy thigh fucking, somnophilia, we're starting out soft

wc: 2.9k

notes: DON'T LOOK AT ME.

series masterlist | next chapter

Waving at your mom from atop the porch, you couldn't help but feel the giddiness bubbling up inside. At last, the house would be peaceful without her snide remarks about what you're, how you're speaking, how you're sitting, and so on. The comfort of relaxing in your own sanctuary was something you've eagerly anticipated since she announced her week-long departure. Although it meant seven days of serenity, your stepdad, Joel, would still be around, which was fine by you. Compared to your mom, Joel was the cool, calm, and collected one, making him the favored parent in your eyes.

As her car disappeared around the corner, you dashed back inside and inadvertently slammed the door with too much force. You winced and clenched your jaw, hastily covering your mouth with your hands as Joel stomped around the corner, his deep frown evident, and large hands planted on his hips in a wide stance.

"What have I told you about slamming doors in this house?" he asks, eyebrows raised, head tilted, waiting for your response. He gestures impatiently when you hesitate. His tone is stern, and his expression suggests he is not in the mood for games.

"Sorry, Joel," you say meekly, your lips curving into a small pout, your heart pounding in your chest while his stern expression remains unchanged. Tears begin to fall before you can hold them back. With a soft sniffle, you turn away, embarrassed, to wipe them off.

You hear him let out a deep sigh from as you try to hold in your little cries. You hear his slow, heavy footsteps as he approaches. Then, you feel his big hands rubbing up and down your arms before turning you around to pull you into his chest. He hushes you softly, tutting quietly when your cries turn into whimpers.

"Oh, sweetheart," he murmurs, bending down to kiss your head softly. "No need for tears. I ain't mad at you, silly girl." With a curled forefinger, he gently lifts your chin. He dabs at your tears and plants another kiss on your forehead, the sensation of his scruff against your skin causing you to close your eyes.

"You're not?" you ask shyly, sniffling quietly as you begin to calm down. "But you seemed angry at me, Joel. It was very scary." Fidgeting with the buttons on his flannel shirt, you remain too nervous to meet his gaze, especially given the close proximity.

Joel's lips form into a grin as he realizes the storm of emotions that you're feeling. Now that the two of you will be alone for one whole week, he finally has enough time on his hands to break you down and put you back together repeatedly. He's finally going to be able to mold you into his perfect little dream girl.

"What can Daddy do to help you feel better?" Hm? Tell me," he says softly, urging you to gaze into his eyes, which you did. Hearing what he called himself made you laugh, which made his grin grow wider. "What's so funny, huh?" Poking you in your side, he laughs when you squirm.

"Mom said I shouldn't call you that," you say, releasing a soft sigh and returning to your button fidgeting. "She says that I'm old enough to use your name, and she thinks it's weird." Your voice carries a touch of sadness that Joel picks up on. He clenches his jaw at the thought of your mother's judgment over something so inconsequential to her.

Joel lifts your head gently, placing his finger under your chin. He gazes into your shining eyes, your eyelashes stuck together from the heavy tears that are beginning to dry. His other hand grips your hip, causing you to make a small noise. Being this close to him, looking up like this, felt so wrong. It was an uncomfortable closeness, especially from an outsider's perspective.

"Alright," Joel says with a playful sigh, bringing a smile to your face. "Fortunately, we have the entire house to ourselves for a whole week. I might not be as young as I used to be, but I'll do my best to keep up with whatever you want to do. Does that sound good?"

You hum loudly, swaying your hips from side to side in Joel's embrace while resting your chin on his head and jutting your backside out to gaze up at him more comfortably. He swallows hard, stifling a strained groan. You remain unaware, preoccupied with thoughts about how to kick off your week. Suddenly, as if an invisible light bulb shined brightly atop your head, your expression lights up.

"Movie night! With snacks! Oh, please, Daddy? Pleeeaaase," you whine, stretching out the last word as you pout and make puppy-like noises. Joel rolls his eyes and gives your backside a gentle pat, a familiar gesture from your private moments together. Now, he can express his affection openly, without hiding it from your mother in the same house.

"Get your butt upstairs and get ready," he motions with his head, signaling you to hurry. With a delighted squeal, you leap up, press a kiss on his stubbled cheek, and scamper up the stairs, slamming your bedroom door shut. A muffled apology comes through the door, and he chuckles, shaking his head.

The market was unexpectedly bustling. Each cash register featured a lengthy queue of customers eager to check out. Amidst the commotion, you found yourself drawing nearer to Joel, clutching the back of his shirt as you attempted to match his brisk pace.

"Make sure to stay close to me, sweetheart. We don't want you to get lost, okay?" Joel had repeatedly told you during the drive and now.

You nearly regret wearing such a pretty outfit on a hectic day. Dressed in a simple summer dress with delicate straps, sheer thigh-highs, and petite wedges, you find yourself wishing you had planned more wisely. But Joel's constant compliments, calling you pretty and ain't you a peach made it worth it.

As minutes passed, you inadvertently drifted away from Joel. You had both wandered through the candy aisle when the array of lollipops, gummy bears, and jellybeans captured your gaze. Standing there, like a child in a candy store, you were practically quivering with excitement at the thought of your stepdad purchasing anything you desired. While reaching for a small bag of gummy worms, you were jostled by someone, prompting a gasp to escape your lips as the bag slipped from your grasp.

A hand reaches down, picks it up, and extends towards you, presenting the bag. You tentatively accept it from the man, turning to face him and feeling a wave of discomfort at his unkempt appearance. He gives you a once-over as he licks his bottom lip. The sight of his thinning hair and prominent belly does little to ease your unease.

"I apologize for that, sweetheart," the term makes you recoil as it feels off when he utters it. When Joel says it, it elicits a sensation of floating and tingling. "I wasn't paying attention where I was going, but you certainly are a pretty sight. Are you here by yourself?" His unsettling stare compels you to want to shield your skin and escape to a distant place.

You sweep the aisle with your eyes, searching desperately for Joel's familiar broad form. Your heart and thoughts are calling out to him, wishing he could sense your distress telepathically and come to your aid against this nasty man. Gripping the candy bag closer to your chest, you watch as he edges nearer, feigning interest in a label just over your shoulder.

"My, uh, my stepdad... he... he, uh..." You couldn't bring yourself to form words as the man's fingers adjusted the fallen strap of your dress. Whimpering quietly, you pressed yourself harder into the shelf, closing your eyes tightly and silently hoping that this man would just go away.

Before the man could approach further, a large shadow loomed over your closed eyelids. As you opened your eyes, you were confronted with Joel's broad back, his masculine scent overwhelming your senses. His hands were balled into fists. Peering around him, you caught sight of the man's eyes, wide with fear, his expression betraying his predatory intentions. As your gazes locked, Joel once again shielded you with his frame.

"I suggest you walk away right now before you find yourself picking up your teeth from the ground," Joel warns in a low, menacing tone that you've never heard before—not even with your mother or step-uncle. It's terrifying to hear him like this, yet there's comfort in knowing he can protect you should things turn violent.

The man dashes out of the aisle, abandoning his basket of groceries without hesitation. Joel remains in front of you briefly, ensuring the man doesn't come back to check if you're alone again. As he turns to face you, the anger in his eyes and the scowl on his face grow more pronounced. He presses you against the shelf, invading your space in an intimidating manner.

"What the hell did I just tell you before we came here?!" he exclaims, almost shouting, his brows furrowed and his voice booming. "I ain't the one you should be playin' games with, little girl." He points a finger at your face, leaning in until his breath skims across your skin. "Repeat it," he commands in a deep, rough voice.

"I… I…" Overwhelmed by the situation, you burst into tears and cling to Joel, burying your face in his chest once more, sobbing uncontrollably. "I'm so sorry, Daddy! I didn't mean to get distracted! And then that man, he wouldn't leave me alone!" Joel struggles to understand you through your sobs, but he hushes you gently, enveloping you in his strong arms and softly patting your back.

Joel pinches the bridge of his nose, a gesture of exasperation at your naivety, so oblivious and innocent to the world around you. As your cries subside to hiccups and faint squeaks, he gently eases you away from his chest, indifferent to the tear stains on his shirt.

"Listen to me, and listen well," he says, his tone stern yet his large palms gently cupping your cheeks. "Men like that are the ones that wanna take you away from me. They wanna keep you locked away and keep you for their own. You're not smart enough to be left alone, sweetheart, because you get put into these situations and you don't know how to act. That's why when Daddy tells you to do something, you do it. Is that understood? Nod your head." He notices your eyes glazing over as you listen to him speak. Mimicking a nod, you snap out of your trance and return the gesture.

"I don't want anyone to take me away from you, Daddy," you whisper, the thought of being separated from Joel filling you with terror, and tears swiftly gather at the edge of your eyes once more. "It's scary."

Joel tuts at you, lowering his head to kiss your tear-stained cheeks. The salty taste of your tears on his tongue had a warmth spreading throughout his lower half. "I know, babydoll. I know," he murmurs, giving your butt a series of gentle pats as he kisses your forehead. "Daddy's here now. Get your snacks so we can leave."

That evening, you change into your sheep-patterned sleep shorts, a light white camisole, and cozy thigh-high socks. As you spin in front of the mirror, Joel's voice faintly calls you downstairs to start the movie. Laughing with excitement at the prospect of a movie night free from your mother's watchful eye, you clutch your beloved stuffed plushie and head out of your room.

Joel lounges on the couch, clad in sweatpants and a casual t-shirt. A bowl of buttered popcorn and assorted snacks are spread out on the coffee table. Beside him, a beer for himself and, thoughtfully, your preferred strawberry kiwi juice. The sound of your footsteps hurrying down the stairs reaches him. He contemplates reprimanding you, yet as you appear, the words dissipate unspoken.

The cool air made your nipples turn into peaks that poke through your thin top. The thigh-highs squeeze your thighs and makes them look extra plushy and grabbable. He takes a deep swallow and sips his beer, his gaze fixed on your appearance. You extend your hands, silently inquiring about your look. Joel scans you from head to toe once more, giving a nod of approval as his jaw tightens.

"You look very pretty, baby doll," he tells you in a strained voice, motioning for you to come closer as he lays out across the couch, his back against it. "Come cuddle so we can start the movie."

Approaching, he could detect the uncertainty in your body language and facial expressions. "Are… Are you sure we should cuddle? Will my mom be upset?" The naive inquiry prompted a rough chuckle from Joel. Your embarrassment was palpable as he laughed openly at your question.

"Oh, honey," he mocks sympathy and stares at you from his sprawled position on the couch. "You seem to keep forgetting in that little head of yours that I'm in charge of this house, and whatever I say, goes. Now, when I tell you to come over here, I expect you to do it without questioning me."

The commanding tone of his voice brooked no argument. To enjoy the week with Joel, you had to push your doubts and hesitations away, instead of fretting over your mother's opinion on the closeness between you two. Joel seemed to understand better; he knew what was best for you, and as he put it, his word was final.

As you approached where he lay, you could just make out him whispering, "That's my girl." The praise made you blush, cherishing the moments when you're told you're doing well and being a good girl for it. Joel consistently offered such verbal reassurance, never hesitating, even in your mother's presence. She, however, often showed her irritation with his way of praising you.

For god's sake, Joel. She's a woman, not a little girl anymore.

You eagerly lay beside him, your back pressed against his chest, as Joel draped a blanket over both of you and started the movie, "The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent." It was a moment you had anticipated ever since you mentioned to Joel how much the character Javi resembled him. Trembling with excitement, you snuggled closer to Joel, your smile buried in the stuffed animal you held, while his arm drew you in even tighter. A pleasant hum vibrated from his chest against your back.

Only thirty minutes into the movie, Joel heard a soft snore beside him. With furrowed brows, he leaned over and saw your closed eyes and parted lips, your arms clutching your stuffed animal to your chest as you hummed sleepily. Shaking his head, he lay back and pulled you closer, smiling to himself as you unconsciously snuggled into him. When Joel makes sure that you're fully asleep, he inches hips back and lowers the blanket off your body. Your sleep shorts had ridden up your thighs, further exposing your lower cheeks and giving him a glimpse of your panties.

"Fuck," he breathes out, feeling his cock beginning to harden and thicken in his sweatpants. With one hand holding onto your hip to keep you steady, Joel begins to grind his cock against your ass, slotting his covered thickness between your cheeks and breathing heavily into the back of your neck. "Goddamn."

You never once stir as you're so deep in your slumber, unaware of the world around you and what Joel is doing to your unconscious body. He can practically feel his tip leaking in his sweats, the gray color darkening as precum stains the fabric. Erratically, but careful enough to not wake you, he lowers his sweatpants and guides his thick cock between your thighs, the tightness of them closed creating a delicious friction that had his mouth dropping. Joel hikes your shorts higher up your waist, forcing the fabric tighter against the shape of your virgin pussy.

He fucks his hips forward and back, sliding his cock deeper between your thighs and further against your covered cunt. Sweat dots at his hairline and the back of his neck as the warmth in his gut coils tighter and tighter. He hears the distinct slick of his precum staining your inner thighs as he abuses them without your knowledge.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he grunts low in his throat, his hand tightening on your hip to position your body in a better way for him to fuck your thighs. "Daddy is such a dirty man, ain't he?" He fucks your thighs faster and faster, his thighs slapping against the back of your own gently. Surprisingly, the movement and noise doesn't wake you.

As he continues muttering to himself, Joel doesn't realize just how close he was. His balls were heavy with cum, waiting to be exploded onto your unexpected skin. The tip of his cock was throbbing with need and dribbling with more precum. His abdomen tightens when you shift and arch your back in your sleep, briefly tightening your thighs and rubbing them together.

The sudden friction had Joel choking on air before he hunches over your body and watches his cum shoot out of his engorged tip and onto the couch. He's biting down on the pillow as his thighs shake. He just won't stop cumming.

"Holy shit," he grunts quietly, falling back against the couch and swiping a hand down his sweaty face. He breathes heavily, wincing and tucking himself back into his sweatpants. He glances over at the tv, and Javi comes onto screen. He scoffs and shakes his head to himself. He doesn't see the resemblance.

taglist:

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @blueberrypancakesworld @heyhihello-4771 @codenamekitten @chamepagnessimo @idioticcatss @takochansugoi @zjasminelouvre3

!! let me know if you wanna be added to the next chapter !!