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laligraves · 5 months ago

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morning run

joel miller x fem!reader

[18+] | wc: ~ 2.8k summary: Joel overhears your argument with the neighbor. masterlist | AO3

warnings: HBO Joel, TLOU AU, dubious consent (i'm so serious, don't read if it makes you uncomfortable), NSFW, pre/no outbreak, some proofreading, Joel is a tall and very strong man, older man/college-aged reader, Joel lives in a wealthy neighborhood with an HOA (homeowners association), no use of y/n or too many details on reader's appearance, somewhat public setting, breeding kink (kinda), fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, creampie

“These HOA people are vultures,” your sister mutters.

You look up from your laptop and watch out the window as the committee leaves on their golf cart, most likely on their way to torment another house on the block.

“Is it that big of a deal that my flower garden has the wrong color of roses?”

“There’s a wrong color of roses?” you ask in confusion.

“Yes! The president of the HOA, Susan,” you sister spits out in disdain, “only wants light pink roses on this block.”

She slams the written warning on the entrance table and storms off into the kitchen. “I’m not sure how her husband stands her. I guess that’s why he spends so much time at the golf course.”

You follow her into the kitchen, partly because you want a break from your assignments and also because you want to hear more gossip about her new neighborhood.

“You know she made me pay a fine because my car was left on the driveway after hours? It’s my driveway!”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise. “Suddenly, I’m not so jealous about your new place.”

She throws a sponge at your head.

“Why don’t you just say no?” you ask as you narrowly dodge the sponge.

“I’ve tried so hard to be nice to everyone here. But all Susan does is turn people against me. Everytime I walk outside to grab the mail or go to work, people give me dirty looks!”

You don’t like seeing your sister like this. It’s her home. One she worked very hard to buy in this wealthy neighborhood. No one has the right to make her feel like an outsider. So you develop a plan.

You find out Susan’s schedule fairly easily. Every morning at 8 a.m. she walks her husband to his car and kisses him goodbye before he leaves for work. She then walks back inside for her notebook and pen to then walk around the neighborhood.

She stops at every house to ensure it fits her standards and if they don’t, she leaves a written warning on the front door. During the weekends, she and her gang of friends drive around on a golf cart to give out even more citations.

So at exactly 7:55 A.M., you make your way to her house. You’re careful in the outfit you chose this morning: a tight sports bra and running shorts. She, and most importantly her husband, are definitely going to notice you.

You slow down as you round the corner, already seeing her husband place his briefcase in the backseat of his beamer. She walks right behind him with a lunch pail and kisses his cheek. You shout out a good morning and watch as they both turn to look at you.

Her right eye immediately begins to twitch and she plasters on a fake smile. His eyes do an appreciative sweep of your body as he walks to the end of the driveway.

“Good morning! Susan,” he says turning to his wife, “why didn’t you tell me we had a new neighbor?”

He grasps your hand and gives it a firm shake. His thumb caresses the back of your hand as he slowly lets go. Susan finally reaches the both of you and grabs onto her husband's arm to pull him away.

You give him a sweet smile, pushing your chest out in a calculated move so he has no choice but to look.

“I’m just visiting my sister over on Ocean Avenue. The neighborhood is so nice I thought it would be perfect for my morning runs.”

“I agree, you can run anytime you want–”

“Sweetie,” Susan interrupts in a high-pitched voice, “you’re going to be late.”

He asks for your name and what you’re studying in college, then shakes your hand again while Susan seethes next to the driver’s side door. He drives off, promising a tour of the country club later that day. You're left standing alone with Susan, just as you wanted.

“Look here, young lady,” she snarls, “this is a neighborhood full of families. Not some frat house. We do not allow blatant displays of–of–well this ,” she says as she motions to your workout attire. “I am going to write your sister a citation for this disrespectful action.”

“Well, that does make me sad. I guess I’ll have to ask your husband to cheer me up later when I visit him.”

Her face turns beet red and you wonder briefly if steam will come out of her ears. “What did you just say?”

“Your husband was so nice in inviting me to the country club, how can I say no? I really need to work on my swing–”

“You stay away from my husband,” she whispers, pointing a finger at your face, “or I will find a way to run your sister out of this neighborhood.”

“Leave my sister alone,” you say as you walk right up to her and push her finger out of the way, “or I’ll fuck your husband.”

Susan gasps, dramatically placing a hand over her mouth.

“I’ll make sure he finishes inside me, too. Maybe give him a baby.”

With that, you continue your jog down the sidewalk. You don’t notice Susan’s neighbor, who stands by his gate and watches you run off.

You continue your jogs for the next few days, waving at Susan and her husband every morning. You and Susan come to an unspoken agreement: she stops bothering your sister and you make sure to stay away from her husband.

Just as you jog past her house, you notice an envelope on the sidewalk. It’s next to a brick mailbox that has the name Miller written on a plaque. You check the envelope and sure enough you see it's made out to a Joel Miller .

You walk up to the iron gate that matches the address and call out a hello , but no one answers. There’s red roses that wrap around the expansive gate which look and smell beautiful, but block your view inside. You test the handle of the gate and luckily it opens.

“They must’ve dropped it when getting the mail this morning,” you mumble to yourself.

“Mornin’, doll,” a gruff voice calls out to your right.

You jump slightly and turn to look, finding a man crouched by the gate. He stands to his full height and you have to tilt your head up just so you can keep eye contact.

“Good morning,” you whisper.

He’s older and handsome, much more attractive than the college boys you're used to. He places his gardening shears down and takes off his gloves to shake your hand. You do your best to control the shiver that courses through your body at the touch of his warm skin.

“Joel,” he states, swiping his other hand through his salt and pepper hair.

You open your mouth to say your name, but he beats you to it.

“How did you know–”

“I heard your conversation with Susan the other day,” Joel interrupts with a slight smirk.

His hand tightens for a moment until he lets go, dragging his fingers over your palm. You feel embarrassment wash over your body and you quickly hand him the envelope.

“Right–um, how much of the conversation did you hear?”

He lets out a laugh and drops the envelope into a basket that you’ve now just noticed. It’s full of the same red roses that cover his gate.

“Just the part where you threatened to fuck her husband if she didn’t leave your sister alone,” he says, placing his hands on his hips. “Effective threat, it seems.”

His eyes sweep over your body and you become hyper aware of the workout clothes you're wearing. Once again, a sports bra and running shorts.

“She’s backed down,” you say after a few moments, crossing your arms to cover your pebbling nipples.

“So,” he continues while walking closer, “you offerin’ to fuck every man on the block or just her’s?”

His words send a shock wave through your body, landing right between your legs. You ignore the pulsing in your cunt and instead lift your hand to slap him across the face.

As if he’s able to sense what you’re about to do, he catches your wrist before your hand makes contact with his face.

“How dare you–”

“Don’t act so innocent now,” he growls, pushing your body against the gate. “You told Susan you were going to let ‘em fill you up. Put a baby inside of you.”

Your back makes contact with the gate, luckily in a place where there’s no thorns. You try to push out of his hold, confused at how much you enjoy being manhandled by an older man you just met.

“Let me go or I’ll scream–”

“Joel?” a familiar high-pitched voice interrupts you. “Are you there?”

Your body stills at the sound of Susan’s voice. Theoretically, you could use this opportunity to scream for help. Sure, you’d have to face Susan again, but you’d be able to escape.

Except, Joel manages to pick up your lower body and push his jean-covered cock right against your cunt. You wrap your legs around his waist to not fall and place one hand on the iron gate behind you.

He rocks against you, moving a finger in front of his mouth, motioning you to stay quiet. Your mouth drops open in surprise as he grabs your hips and begins to grind you down on him.

“Yes, ma’am. What can I help you with?” Joel responds.

She tries to open the gate and you press your body back so she won’t see you. You’re not quite sure why you’re trying to hide.

“Joel, honey. Your gate is locked,” she says. “Come unlock it and let me in.”

Through your daze, you faintly register her tone. Did she just call him honey?

“Sorry, Susan. It does that sometimes. I’ve got my hands full at the moment,” Joel calls out, giving you another hard thrust.

You bite your lip to stop the moan that threatens to escape.

“That’s okay, I just wanted to stop by and warn you about the young lady that’s staying with her sister over on Ocean Avenue.”

Joel raises his eyebrow and stops his movements, dropping your thighs from his hold. You're shocked again, feeling dejected that he’s stopping.

He quickly spins you around and bends you over, pushing a hand between your thighs. You grab onto the iron gate once more and slap a hand over your mouth as he begins to rub a big hand over your thin shorts.

“Warn me?” he calls out. “What’s this young lady been up to?”

“Well, that–that– tramp ,” Susan spits out, “is acting in ways that she shouldn’t. I know you’re a hardworking man who has done so much for our community and the last thing I want is this girl making you uncomfortable.”

Joel yanks down your shorts and plunges a thick finger inside of you. You’d roll your eyes at her words but instead they're rolling into the back of your skull. He thrusts his finger a few times and calls out a is that right to Susan.

Joel adds another finger and you almost fall at the stretch. If those are just his fingers, you wonder how big his cock is. He uses his other hand to keep you steady and continues to fuck you with his thick fingers while talking to her.

“I just,” Susan continues, “I don’t know what to do. Maybe we can find a way for the sister to leave? If we all band together?”

Joel removes his hand from between your legs and places it on your back to keep you in place. This time you actually struggle in his hold, wanting to face Susan and give her a piece of your mind.

“Now, Susan,” Joel admonishes, “don’t go blaming the sister for the younger one’s actions. There’s no need to be spiteful to our new neighbor. There’s more than enough room in this neighborhood for everyone.”

You stop, surprised that Joel is standing up for your sister. He presses against you and you feel the roughness of his jeans on your bare skin. He brings you in close, gently rubbing his crotch on your slick cunt.

“Oh, you’re so right, Joel. I just get so caught up in the politics of the HOA. I want this community to be perfect.”

A wet glob of spit lands on your asshole and you clench in surprise. Joel quietly unzips his jeans and takes out his cock.

“Fucking perfect little asshole,” he whispers, pushing the tip of his cock right on your hole. “Not today, baby. Today is that juicy, little cunt.”

You arch your back and barely manage to stifle a whimper when he teases the tip of your entrance.

“What was that, Joel?” Susan calls out.

“That the community is already perfect, Susan.”

His voice sounds annoyed at this point.

“You think so, Joel? Thank you, I–”

Joel uses that moment to plunge inside of you, bumping your g-spot and reaching so deep that you choke on your own spit.

“I’m getting a call, Susan,” Joel says through gritted teeth, “I’ll speak to you later.”

Susan gives a sad goodbye while you bite on your hand to stop your moans. Joel is big, much bigger than any of the boys in your past. Your pussy spasms and flutters over his length and you breathe in deep to adjust to the size.

“S’tight,” he mutters, ”keep quiet f’me, doll. Too many people on the sidewalk at this time of mornin’.”

You hum in response, wanting him to fuck you, to stretch you and make you come on his cock. He starts a rhythm, keeping one hand on your waist so you match his thrusts and the other slips between your thighs.

Sticky wetness drips down your inner thighs and he swipes two fingers through the mess to bring them up to your clit. Joel pistons faster, rubbing harsh circles on your clit that have you accidently whimpering in pleasure.

“I know, baby,” he coos, “feels so good, doesn’t it?”

“ Y–yes ,” you whisper.

“Showing off that pretty body when runnin’ around the neighborhood,” he groans. “Picking fights and trespassing. Just needed someone to fuck some manners into you.”

Your fingers curl into the iron gate and your back arches even deeper. He speeds up, becomes harsher in his thrusts once he notices your pussy become softer, wetter, gripping his cock with each plunge.

“Little cunt can barely take my cock,” Joel groans, “fuck, doll. You’re choking me.”

You wish you could bite his neck, leave red hickeys on his tan skin that you imagine tastes like salt and roses and spearmint. Your head spins from lust and you feel the coil in your belly, ready to burst at any moment.

You hear voices, people walking past on the sidewalk for some early morning exercise. Joel lands a quick slap, slap to your clit and your cumming, clenching hard on his length while you fall apart.

Your vision blurs and you faintly hear him say there you go, make a fuckin’ mess on me . Wetness spills from your cunt, only making it easier for Joel. You bite hard on your bottom lip to stop the whimpers and your fingers curl into the iron gate.

“Gonna cum inside this pussy, put a baby in there,” he whispers.

“ Please, Joel,” you whine.

He brings your back to his chest, molds his lips to your neck and bites down, moving you like his personal fleshlight. Joel groans in your shoulder and then you feel it, hot pulses of cum, filling you up.

You hold onto his arm that's branded across your chest and squeeze down on him, milking every drop from his body, wanting it to mark you deep inside.

Joel's body trembles from the exertion and he stumbles as he finishes, turning his body to lean on the iron gate with you still attached to his cock.

He keeps you pressed to him for a few moments, keeping his nose pressed to your neck as he breathes deep. Your own breathing regulates and you become aware of the sensitivity all over your body.

Joel stands straight and gently pulls out. He reaches into his jeans pocket to reach for a clean handkerchief that he uses to clean up between your thighs.

"Same time tomorrow?" he asks.

You manage a rough fuck off and lightly push at his shoulders. He laughs and helps you fix your clothes. He swipes your phone that fell on the ground the moment he pushed you to the gate, having you unlock it so he can put in his phone number.

You make it back home a few minutes later, sore but for the most part, satiated . Your sister gets home hours later, once you've relaxed in her ginormous bathtub and washed away the evidence of your morning run.

"Are you seeing someone?" she teases as she walks in.

"What? No, why?"

"Someone left a giant bouquet of red roses on the porch."

Sure enough, you find a bouquet of familiar red roses on the front doorstep. You don’t need a notecard to know who they're from.

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

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mssalo · 20 days ago

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dirty old man - the doctor’s office

When the doctor steps out, Joel wastes no time pulling you onto his face, turning the check-up into a filthy game of control and desire.

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, age gap, caretaker f!reader, Joel is a perverted old man (imagined age 60-70), reader in her 20s, DDLG dynamic, daddy kink, exhibitionism, oral (female receiving), public setting (doctor’s office), risk of being caught, degradation, size difference, explicit sexual content, perverted/dirty talk.

more dirty old man in masterlist

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The sterile smell of the doctor's office felt like the most routine part of your day—a place you and Joel had visited plenty of times for his regular check-ups.

But underneath the fluorescent lights and the ordinary medical examination, there was a palpable tension, one that had nothing to do with Joel's health and everything to do with the dynamic you’d built together.

Joel lay back on the examination table, his shirt off as the doctor began his usual routine, prodding and listening to his chest, but Joel's attention was far from the doctor’s hands.

“Gotta say, Joel,” the doctor began, flipping through his notes. “Your physical condition has improved since your last few visits. I can tell you're in much better shape—more flexibility, blood pressure’s stabilizing. Whatever routine you've been following, it’s working wonders.”

Joel’s eyes darted over to you, and that familiar, mischievous smirk curled at the edges of his mouth.

“Well, doc,” he drawled slowly, “that’s all thanks to my new caretaker here.” His eyes locked onto yours, the look in them full of filthy innuendo. “She’s been keepin' me on my toes.”

Your face flushed instantly, heat rushing to your cheeks as the doctor glanced over at you, completely unaware of the real reason behind Joel’s improved health.

You gave a nervous, awkward laugh, trying to hide the growing embarrassment bubbling up inside you.

"Yeah, well... I try to help as much as I can," you stammered, your voice shaky under the weight of Joel’s smoldering gaze.

The doctor smiled, oblivious, and nodded. "Well, it shows. You’ve done a great job," he said. “It’s rare for someone Joel’s age to make such improvements so quickly. Whatever you're doing, keep it up.”

You forced a smile, trying to maintain professionalism, but Joel’s smirk was growing, his eyes gleaming with that dark satisfaction, fully enjoying the way you squirmed.

"Yeah," Joel muttered, his voice low and teasing. "She’s been real good to me, doc. Keeps me movin’, keeps me... motivated." His eyes lingered on you as he said it, making your heart pound even harder.

You bit your lip, trying to avoid eye contact, but the flush on your cheeks deepened. You knew exactly what Joel was hinting at, and so did he.

The doctor was completely unaware of the layers behind Joel’s words, but you could feel the tension building between you, the silent promises in Joel's gaze making it impossible for you to focus.

“Well, whatever it is, it’s clearly working,” the doctor continued, glancing down at his clipboard. “Your heart rate’s better, blood pressure is steady, and your muscle tone has improved. Honestly Joel, for your age, you’re in remarkable shape.”

Joel chuckled low in his throat, the sound sending a ripple of heat through your body.

The doctor glanced at his clipboard, then gave Joel a brief smile. “I’ll need to step out for a moment to check something with the nurse,” he said casually, already turning toward the door.

As soon as the doctor stepped out, the door clicking shut behind him, Joel wasted no time. His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with that familiar possessive grip.

His smirk was wicked, curling at the corners of his lips as he yanked you closer, pulling you between his legs.

“Come here,” he growled, his voice low and rough, already thick with need. His eyes raked over your body, his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing your skirt up with rough urgency.

“No fuckin' panties, just like I told ya. Good girl. Now get up here and sit that sweet pussy on my face.”

Your breath hitched, and you glanced nervously at the door, your heart racing.

“Joel… we’re in a doctor’s office,” you whispered, trying to sound logical, but the heat between your legs was already giving you away.

“Don’t give a damn,” he muttered, his hands tightening on your hips, pulling you closer until you were standing right in front of him. “I’ve been thinkin’ about your cunt all fuckin' day. Now, I’m gonna have it.”

The way he talked to you—filthy, raw, unapologetically possessive—set your body alight with anticipation.

You hesitated for just a moment longer before finally giving in, climbing up onto the examination table. Your hands shook slightly as you straddled his chest, your bare folds hovering over his face, already slick with arousal.

“Fuckin' look at you,” Joel growled as he pulled you down, his breath hot against your dripping core.

“You’re so wet, baby. This pussy’s fuckin' soaked for me.” He slid his hands around your hips, gripping them tight as he positioned you just where he wanted you.

“I wanna see every part of you, darlin’. Spread those legs nice and wide for me.”

Your legs trembled as you obeyed, spreading yourself open for him, your wet, swollen clit exposed to his hungry eyes. He groaned, his breath ragged with lust as he looked at you, his lips parting slightly.

“Goddamn, baby,” he muttered, his voice thick and rough. “Look at how swollen that little clit is. You’ve been waitin' for this, haven’t ya?”

Without waiting for a response, Joel’s tongue flicked out, the first slow, deliberate stroke dragging over your clit.

You gasped, your fingers gripping the edge of the exam table as your body jolted with pleasure. He wasn’t gentle—his mouth latched onto you, sucking hard, his tongue swirling over your clit with rough, practiced strokes.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, your voice shaky as you tried to stay quiet.

The obscene sounds of his mouth on you filled the small room, wet and slick, and you had to bite your lip to keep from moaning too loudly.

Joel groaned against you, the vibrations sending a shiver through your entire body. “This fuckin' pussy,” he growled between licks, his words muffled as he sucked your clit into his mouth, his tongue lapping greedily over you.

“Tastes so goddamn good. I could fuckin' drown in it.”

You moaned softly, your thighs trembling as his tongue flicked over your swollen clit again, faster this time, more insistent. He sucked hard, drawing your sensitive bud into his mouth, then flicked his tongue over it in rapid, merciless strokes.

You could feel your pulse pounding between your legs, your body already trembling with the need to come.

“Fuck, Joel… we have to—” you gasped, but he cut you off with a growl, his hands tightening on your hips as he pulled you down harder onto his face.

“Shut the fuck up and ride my face,” he growled, his voice thick with need. “I don’t care if we’re in a fuckin’ doctor’s office. I’m gonna make you come all over my mouth.”

You could barely think straight. The filthy heat of his words, the way his mouth moved on you, the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body—it was too much.

Your hips started to rock against him, grinding down on his face as his tongue slid in and out of you, his rough hands guiding your movements.

“That’s it, baby,” Joel muttered between licks, his voice thick with hunger as his tongue dragged slowly up and down your folds, swirling around your swollen clit before dipping back down to tease your entrance.

“Fuck my face. Show me how much you need it. How much you love when daddy eats this sweet little cunt.”

His hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling you down even harder against his mouth. His tongue was everywhere—messy, desperate, like he couldn’t get enough.

He flicked your clit with his tongue again, but then he shifted lower, dragging his tongue along your slit, tasting every inch of you. The heat between your legs was unbearable, and Joel could feel how badly you wanted it, how soaked you already were.

He groaned, the sound vibrating through you as his face pressed further into your slick heat, his nose brushing your clit as his tongue explored every part of you.

He wasn't satisfied with just licking—he wanted to bury himself in you, use his whole face to make you come. And that’s exactly what he did.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he growled, his breath hot against your sensitive skin.

His tongue moved lower, teasing the edges of your entrance before plunging inside, fucking you with slow, deep strokes.

You moaned loudly, your hands gripping the sides of the exam table as your hips rocked against his face. Joel’s grip on your hips tightened, keeping you in place as he lapped at your pussy like a man starved.

But it wasn’t enough for him. He wanted more. He pulled his tongue out of your hole, dragging it back up to your clit, where he sucked hard before letting go, only to press his entire face against your folds, rubbing it all over your pussy.

His nose nudged your clit, his lips sucking at your wetness, and his tongue slipping everywhere—flicking your clit, sliding between your folds, teasing your hole again and again.

He was relentless, his whole face working against you, his stubble rubbing against your sensitive skin, adding a rough, delicious friction.

You gasped, your body trembling from the intensity of it, and Joel only groaned louder, his tongue darting in and out of your hole before sliding back up to your clit, flicking it in rapid strokes.

“You love this, don’t ya?” he rasped, his voice muffled as he pressed his mouth back to your pussy, his tongue swirling over your clit, his nose bumping against it as he ground his face into you.

“Love when daddy uses his whole fuckin’ face on this pretty little cunt. You’re fuckin’ dripping for me, baby. I’m gonna make you come all over my face.”

Your breath hitched, your hips bucking against him, the pressure building inside you as his face moved everywhere—tongue fucking you deep one second, then sucking on your clit the next. He loved every part of you, and he made sure you knew it.

His mouth, his nose, his whole face was slick with your arousal as he devoured you, using everything he had to make you come.

Joel pulled his tongue out of your hole, dragging it up your slit again, swirling it around your clit before pressing his mouth down hard.

He sucked, his lips closing tightly around your clit as he flicked his tongue over it in quick, teasing strokes. You whimpered, your body trembling as you tried to stay quiet, but it was impossible with how good he was making you feel.

“Fuck, Joel…” you gasped, your voice shaking as the pleasure grew, every nerve in your body on fire from the way his mouth moved over you, claiming you. “I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he growled, his voice low and commanding, his tongue never stopping. “Come on my fuckin’ face, baby. I want it all. I wanna taste every drop.”

His words sent a shiver through you, and with one final flick of his tongue over your clit, you came hard.

Your thighs clenched around his head as your orgasm crashed through you, and Joel groaned in satisfaction, his hands holding you firmly in place as he continued licking, drinking in every bit of your release.

“That’s it, good girl,” he muttered, his lips still pressed to your pussy, his tongue slowly dragging through your folds, savoring the taste of you. “You come so fuckin’ sweet for me.”

Your body trembled, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps, but Joel wasn’t done.

His hands slid up your thighs, squeezing them gently as his mouth moved over you again, slower this time, but just as hungry.

He rubbed his whole face into your slick folds, his nose brushing your clit while his tongue teased your entrance. He wanted to make you come again, and he was determined to get it.

“Fuck, I could eat you all day,” he groaned, pulling back just long enough to look up at you with dark, lust-filled eyes before diving back in, his tongue sliding deep inside you again.

He fucked you with his tongue, his nose pressing against your clit, his mouth wet and messy as he devoured you, completely lost in the taste of you.

“You’re mine,” he growled between licks, his voice low and possessive as he slid his tongue out of you, flicking it over your clit again.

“This pussy is fuckin’ mine.”

You were barely holding on, your body trembling as another orgasm built inside you, the sensation of his face rubbing against your wet heat sending you over the edge.

Joel could feel it—could feel the way your body tightened, the way your breath hitched, and he sucked your clit into his mouth again, his tongue swirling over it in quick, dirty strokes.

"Come again," Joel growled, his voice dark and full of filthy satisfaction. "Come all over my fuckin' face again, baby. Don’t hold back."

You couldn’t. The pleasure hit you like a tidal wave, and you came again, harder this time, your hips grinding down onto his face as your body shook with the intensity of it.

Joel groaned beneath you, his tongue still lapping at your pussy, his whole face drenched in your slick as he continued fucking you with his mouth until you couldn’t take it anymore.

"Look at you," he rasped, his voice hoarse but smug, pulling back just enough to smirk up at you. His face was soaked, his lips shiny with your release, and the sight of him like that—dark eyes, glistening mouth—made your stomach tighten all over again.

"Can’t fuckin’ get enough, can ya? Rubbing that sweet little pussy all over an old man’s face."

His words dripped with possessiveness, but there was a teasing warmth behind them. Joel wasn’t disgusted by how much you needed him—no, he was fucking proud.

Proud of how you responded to him, how desperate and soaked you became under his tongue.

You whimpered softly, still trembling, the shame and arousal mixing together in a heady cocktail of need.

"Joel, we’re gonna get caught," you murmured, your breath still shaky.

He chuckled, low and dirty, his hands never leaving your hips as he kept you pinned down.

"Let ‘em catch us," he growled, his voice rough with lust. "Let ‘em see how fuckin’ perfect you look sittin’ on daddy’s face. Maybe they’ll wanna take a fuckin' picture—show everyone how much this sweet young thing needs me.”

Your breath hitched at his words, the risk, the dirtiness of it all making your heart race.

You were already drenched, but hearing him talk like that—pushing the boundary between pleasure and danger—made you even wetter, your body responding before your mind could catch up.

“They’d love to see you like this, wouldn’t they?” Joel muttered, his tongue darting out to swipe at your swollen folds, sending a fresh jolt of pleasure through your already sensitive body.

"Bet they’d be jealous. Bet they’d wanna taste you too, but you’re mine, hm, baby?"

You nodded, your voice catching in your throat as his hands squeezed your hips, forcing you to grind harder against his mouth.

His nose brushed your clit, sending sparks of pleasure through your body as his tongue teased your entrance again, slipping in and out with slow, deliberate strokes.

"You’re all mine," Joel groaned, his words muffled as he pressed his face deeper into your wetness.

“Fuckin’ made for daddy, pretty one. Look how fuckin' soaked you are, baby. Ridin' this old man’s face like you need it to breathe."

Your whole body shuddered as his tongue pushed deeper inside you, fucking you with slow, sensual strokes.

He wasn’t just eating you out—he was worshiping you, using every part of his face to drive you crazy.

His nose bumped against your clit as he flicked his tongue in and out of your tight entrance, his lips wrapping around your folds, sucking and licking like he couldn’t get enough of you.

"God, Joel..." you gasped, your hips moving of their own accord, grinding against him, desperate for more.

The idea of someone walking in, seeing you like this—spread wide, riding Joel’s face while he devoured you—it sent a thrill through you that made your heart race even faster.

"That's it," he muttered, his voice rough and dirty as his hands guided your movements.

"You like this, sweet girl? You love letting daddy take care of you, love how I make you feel. Doesn’t matter where we are—you’ll always be fuckin' mine."

But Joel wasn’t finished. His hands stayed firmly on your hips, his mouth still teasing your swollen, oversensitive clit with slow, lazy licks, as if he couldn’t bear to let you go.

"Joel, I..." you whimpered, your voice weak and breathless. "I can’t—"

"You can and you fuckin' will," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "One more, baby. Come one more time for daddy. Show me how much you love ridin' this old man’s face.”

His filthy words sent another shock of heat straight to your core, and before you could stop yourself, you were grinding harder, your slick pussy rubbing all over his face.

Joel groaned, the sound vibrating through you as he sucked your clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it in quick, tight circles that had you seeing stars.

“Good girl,” he murmured between licks, his voice full of pride and lust.

“You’re so fuckin' perfect, baby. So tight, so full of energy for me. Daddy loves it when you let me eat this pussy like it’s the last thing I’ll ever taste.”

His tongue flicked over your clit faster, his hands keeping you steady as your thighs trembled around his head.

You were so close again, the pressure building inside you, threatening to overwhelm you. Joel’s mouth moved with expert precision, teasing, sucking, licking—his entire face covered in your slick, his stubble rubbing against your sensitive skin in the most delicious way.

"Come for me again," Joel growled, his tone shifting to something more commanding. "I wanna feel it. I wanna taste it all. Don’t fuckin' hold back, baby."

You moaned, your hips rocking harder against his mouth as the pleasure built higher, higher, until you couldn’t take it anymore.

The tension snapped, and your third orgasm crashed through you, even harder than the last. Your thighs squeezed around Joel’s head, your hands gripping the edges of the exam table for support as your body shook with the intensity of your release.

Joel groaned beneath you, his tongue still working over your clit, licking up every last drop as you came all over his face.

His grip on your hips was unrelenting, making sure you couldn’t move, couldn’t escape the pleasure he was giving you.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Joel muttered, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You come so fuckin’ pretty for me, baby. Just like that. Give daddy everything.”

You collapsed forward, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps, your body trembling as the last waves of your orgasm pulsed through you.

Joel groaned beneath you, drinking in every last drop of your release, his hands gripping you tightly as he licked you through your climax, his tongue unrelenting.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, finally pulling back, his face a mess of your slick, his eyes dark with satisfaction. “You’re fuckin’ perfect, baby. We ain’t done, though. When we get home, I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll be beggin' for more."

Your body trembled, still coming down from the intensity of your orgasms, but the look in Joel’s eyes told you he wasn’t lying.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, a smirk playing on his wet, glistening lips as he watched you try to gather yourself.

But before either of you could speak, there was a sudden knock on the door.

Your heart leaped into your throat, and you scrambled off Joel’s chest, yanking your skirt down as quickly as possible.

Panic coursed through you as you hurried to adjust yourself, smoothing your hair, trying to catch your breath.

Joel, of course, was far too amused. He wiped his face lazily, still leaning back on the exam table, that smug smirk never leaving his face as you frantically tried to make it look like nothing had happened.

His eyes twinkled with mischief as he glanced at the door, clearly not concerned in the slightest.

"Come in," Joel called out casually, his voice hoarse but steady, as if he hadn’t just been buried between your legs moments ago.

The doctor walked back in, clipboard in hand, giving Joel a quick glance. "Sorry about the wait, Mr. Miller," he said, then paused as he noticed Joel’s flushed face, the sheen of wetness still visible despite his attempt to wipe it away.

The doctor blinked, clearly taken aback but too polite to say anything directly.

"Must be gettin' hot in here, huh?" the doctor remarked with a chuckle, trying to laugh off the awkwardness.

"This age, it’s making us all feel a bit warmer, huh? Happens to the best of us."

Joel, the devilish smirk never leaving his face, tilted his head slightly, catching your eye for just a second before replying, "Oh, you could say that, doc. It definitely gets me feelin’... hotter than usual."

His tone was thick with double meaning, so much so that you had to suppress a smile.

The doctor, oblivious to the real reason behind Joel’s flustered state, simply nodded and made some notes on his clipboard.

"Well, let’s make sure everything’s looking good. Just a quick check-up, and you’ll be out of here."

Joel shot you a look as the doctor moved to his side, leaning in to examine him.

His eyes twinkled with filthy satisfaction, his lips twitching as though he was barely holding back another comment.

"Yeah," Joel said quietly, just loud enough for you to hear. "Feelin’ better already."

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

…..I dont know what to tell y’all 😭

I’m glad some of you like older!Joel 🫶🏼 I love reading your comments and reblog notes - thank you so much!!

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strang3lov3 · 9 days ago

Text

Clean

Joel makes a mess on you, then keeps you in the bathtub until the water goes cold. (3k)

Tags - dark!joel, one shot, smut, fingering, come shot, manspreading, masturbation, overstimulation, forced orgasms, dubconnnnnn, daddy kink, innocence kink, inexperienced reader, biiiig girthy yet unspecified age gap, weird feelings and some good ol' fashioned shame, hitting, Joel is fatherly in a hot and disgusting way, calls himself 'your old man', gratuitous use of the nickname 'kiddo'. Say the affirmation with me: The ickier it is, the harder I nut.#bushnation, MORE DEPECHE MODE REFERENCES. TRY AND STOP ME. Like car sex, I write bathtub sex uniquely in that I’m not bound by bullshit ass physics or logic so yes, both people fit in the tub and everything is fine. Reader is bathed by Joel, her hair is washed and finger-combed by him too, but length and texture are not described. This was a decroded fic for me to make i can't lie Fic help - @endlessthxxghts, thank you for always seeing my disgusting visions and giving me your eyeballs A/N - thank you for all the birthday wishes, dear friends in my phone! I celebrated with you all last year when I was writing Mall Rats and it’s special that a lot of you are still with me today, but some I have new friends too ❤️ I love you. Having readers like you in my corner all this time has been beyond special and so rewarding and I hope you know I mean it when I say that I love you.

You’re washing the dishes tonight, your least favorite of the chores Joel makes you do. You prefer doing laundry or plucking the weeds with him, because he lets you collect flowers and put them in vases. He even taught you how to press them between heavy books, and how to frame them nicely.

Joel calls your name from upstairs. You quickly wash and dry your hands, then scurry up the steps. His door is closed almost all of the way, just a small sliver of light peeks from his room into the dark hallway. “Joel?”

“In here, sweetheart. Need ya for somethin’.”

You push open the door the rest of the way, and Joel’s naked and sitting upright on the edge of his bed, cock in hand with his bare thighs spread wide. He’s grunting as he squeezes the base, the tip all flushed and swollen. “C’mere. Switch me spots.”

You don’t yet obey his order. You’ve seen Joel’s cock before, seen him masturbate before, too. Despite that, it still makes you feel nervous to see him and be with him like this. It gives you that icky feeling in your gut and makes you breathe funny.

“C’mon. You know it ain’t gonna bite ya, kiddo.” Joel stands up and pats the spot on the bed. “Sit,” he says, his tone sharper than before. “Need somethin’ pretty to come on.”

Joel doesn’t like repeating himself. You won’t make him ask a third time.

You sit on the bed, the covers warmed and slightly damp by Joel’s body heat don’t comfort you. He stands in front of you, rock-hard cock bouncing in his loose grip. “Why don’t you give me a hand this time,” he says, reaching for your wrist. He pulls it up to waist level, then wraps your palm around his member, closing your fingers tightly. “Ohhh, fuck,” Joel groans from deep in his chest. Loudly, he breathes in and out through his nose as he twists your hand up and down his shaft. “Jus’ like this. That’s a good girl.”

This is, however, the first time you’ve ever felt his cock. All of your firsts with Joel have never gone the way you thought they would. The first time he saw you naked, touched you, or that you saw him - it was all surreal and rather abrupt. Joel tells you things like this are always a little new and funny at first.

His cock feels heavy in your palm. You think about the things you like about it - the warmth, all of his veins and ridges, how smooth and soft the head is. But it’s a little sticky, too, which is unexpected to you.

“Alright, alright. S’enough,” Joel says, pulling your hand away. “Lift up your shirt.”

You lift your shirt, pushing it up your torso until it’s bunched just beneath your breasts. “Nuh-uh. Like this,” Joel murmurs, pushing the garment up above your chest, exposing yourself entirely to him. He rubs his thumb in circles over both of your nipples so that they pebble under his touch, then gropes and squeezes your flesh. “Lie back,” Joel says, pushing you down on the bed. “Attagirl.”

You watch as Joel pumps his cock above you, the end of his fist slapping against his softened belly repeatedly. He breathes heavily, and his dark eyes are wild like an animal as his gaze is fixed on your naked form. Joel breathes quicker as he approaches his release, grunting a slew of swears he doesn’t allow you to say. “Fuck, goddamn. Oh, goddamn,” he hisses as ropes of his hot come spurt onto your body. He covers you like a canvas; his favorite painting, and for his eyes only.

Joel collects a bit of his spend up with his first two fingers. “Give it a taste,” he says. “Want you to try it.”

You open your mouth, and Joel pushes his calloused digits inside, painting your tongue with his come. “Suck,” he says, and you do. You furrow your brows at the salty, bitter flavor, how it tastes dissimilar from its scent. “Don’t like it?”

You shake your head. “I don’t think so.”

Joel chuckles, cupping your jaw and rubbing his thumb along your cheekbone. “S’okay. Y’don’t have to.” Joel yawns then, patting your cheek gently with his weathered hand. “C’mon, kiddo. Bath time. Daddy made a mess a’ ya, didn’t he?”

Joel walks you to the bathroom with him, holding your hand the whole time. He puts the little rubber stopper in the drain of the bathtub, then turns the water on. “Warmer, pl-”

“Don’t need a reminder, sweetheart. Know you like it hot. Daddy won’t let you freeze.”

“And bubbles.”

“I know, baby girl. I won’t forget your bubbles.”

As the bathtub fills, Joel opens the oak cabinet under the sink and pulls out the old bottle of bubble bath, the one he’s been refilling just for you. He pours a capful under the water, bubbles immediately building. It smells mostly of nothing, but a bit of that original bubblegum scent remains. Your image reflected in the mirror begins to blur as steam fills the bathroom, and when the tub is full, Joel shuts off the water. He helps you undress and then gets in the tub first, carefully lowering himself until he’s sat with his back against the wall. “Jesus, s’hot. Gonna turn us both into soup,” Joel laughs. You smile shyly.

He spreads his legs, then outstretches his arm to you. “C’mon. Hop in.” You take Joel’s hand, squeezing it while wobbling a little on your one foot as you step into the bath. “I gotcha, kiddo,” he says.

The water is warm on your feet, nearly burning you but you enjoy the tingle. Joel helps you down, lowering you until you’re submerged in the water, your back against his warm chest, his thick package pressing against your ass.

Joel fills an old, plastic measuring cup with the soapy bath water and brings a hand to your chin, tilting your head back so he can rinse your hair. The hot water feels soothing on your scalp, and Joel repeats the action until your hair is soaked all the way through and dripping down your back.

You giggle at the noise the bottle of shampoo makes when Joel squirts a bit into his hand. He lathers it between his palms, then scrubs your scalp. “Eyes closed, kiddo. Don’t wanna hurt ya,” he whispers.

Your eyes flutter shut as Joel works the soap into your hair, scrubbing your scalp all over. He alternates between scratching you gently with his dull nails, to massaging you with the tips of his fingers. He uses his thumbs to rub the base of your skull in circles, the other four fingers of each hand drawing lines up and down and all over. Once Joel’s built a thick lather, he uses the same plastic cup to rinse out the shampoo.

He conditions your hair next, working the cream into the strands. He uses his fingers to loosely detangle, “Ow, daddy,” you complain as he tugs on a knot.

“I know, I know. M’sorry, baby girl.” Joel presses a kiss to your forehead. “Was an’ accident. M’tryin’ to be gentle.” He rinses out the conditioner next, “Grab me that bar of soap, will ya?” he asks.

“Mhm.” You lean forward and reach for the orangish, rectangular bar of soap in front of you on the shower niche, then grab it and hold it over your shoulder.

Joel takes the soap, “Thank ya kindly, darlin’.” He dips it in the soapy bathwater before lathering it between his palms that are already beginning to prune. Gently, he pushes you forward to scrub your back and your neck, then pulls you right back into himself. “Gimme an arm,” he says, a slight rasp in his voice. You raise your arm for him and he washes you with the lather, “An’ the other,” Joel adds, now washing your other arm, massaging you with his strong hands. “Here-” Joel taps your shoulder with the soap. “Your daddy’s gettin’ old,” he grumbles. “Can’t bend like he used to. Wash your legs f’me, sweetheart.”

“Okay,” you murmur, taking the soap back from him. You lather the soap just like Joel did, then wash your legs one at a time, bending them at the knees. When done, Joel reaches over you to take the soap back. He pulls you back against his soft middle and puts his soapy hands on your torso, sliding them up and down your skin, washing off his now dried spend. He groans quietly as he washes your breasts, kneading the flesh there and circling your nipples with his slippery fingers. You feel his cock twitch against you.

Joel washes down, down your stomach. “Spread ‘em,” he says, and you part your legs wider. Your stomach jumps when his hands rub past your pubic hair and he washes your folds, that soft, private place between your thighs. You whimper when his thumb catches your clit.

“That feel nice, kiddo?”

Your breath hitches in your throat as you search for an answer.

“I-”

“You can tell your old man. I know it does,” Joel coos, rubbing his thumb left and right over your clit. You lean your head back and turn your head to the side, burying yourself in his bicep as you whine. “You don’t take much at all, do ya, sweetheart?”

Joel’s made you come before. It’s one of the first things he did when he brought you home, actually. But you amaze him every time, how quickly and easily you fall apart on his fingertips. He thinks about tasting you for the first time, how sweet you’ll be on his tongue. Or his cock, down your throat or between your thighs and splitting you in two. God, you’ve so much to learn, and Joel gets to walk you through it all. His favorite innocence.

Joel adjusts you both so that you’re sitting more upright and he can reach around you with both hands. “Rest on me,” he says, pressing the side of your head against his so that his scruff is tickling you, but not scratching you. It’s too long for that.

Joel peers over your shoulder to watch what he’s doing, and to watch how you react. Your soft tummy rising and falling with big breaths, thighs twitching. Joel circles your clit with his middle and ring fingers, patiently working you up. “How’s that feelin’?” he asks, “Can you tell daddy?”

“Mm,” you hum, “Yeah…”

Joel chuckles, dragging the tip of his aquiline nose along the side of your face. “Use your words, baby girl,” he instructs. “Good girls use their words, hm?”

“Feels g- feels good,” you whimper, voice breaking as Joel works you. He rubs your clit faster now, and you’re rocking against his palm, splashing the water a little.

Joel brings his other hand to your core and lines two fingers up with your entrance, slowly pushing in while he massages your clit. You wince in pain, squeezing his bicep as he pushes them in further.

Joel hums in sympathy. Being in the bath means you’re not a slick, slippery mess like usual. “Know it hurts, kiddo, but you gotta get used to it.” Joel’s fingers are all the way inside you now, and he pulls them back out. “You’ll get used to it,” he drawls, now pumping those fingers in and out of you, slowly. “You’re bein’ so brave for me, baby girl.”

The ache of Joel’s fingers stretching you out dissipates eventually, and he changes the action - instead of drawing his fingers in and out of your cunt, he curls them repeatedly inside of you - Joel knows you love when he does this to you.

You moan freely, relishing in the pleasure. Joel’s right, he’s always right. You’re used to him now, and he feels so good. Swirling his fingers around your clit, stroking that sweet spot inside you with the other hand - it takes no more than five minutes until your breathing turns ragged and you feel that hot, sticky feeling in your gut, the one that feels both bad and good all at the same time.

“Ask for it,” Joel mumbles, reminding you of your manners as he senses how close you are. “Be polite.”

“Please,” you say, “Can I come?”

“‘Course you can, sweetheart. Of course.”

The orgasm washes over you quickly. You come with a symphony of breathy moans, saccharine in nature. Joel’s never heard anything like it, and he’s grateful he has enough of his hearing left to be able to.

With his weathered, wrinkled fingers, Joel fucks you through your climax until the last of it courses through you. You come down, but Joel doesn’t stop touching you.

Maybe he thinks it’s not yet over. Joel keeps doing those same tight circles on your clit, and you start to squirm. “Joel–” you wrap your hands around his forearm and attempt to move him, but his strength is far too great for your efforts to mean anything at all.

“Sit still. You’re givin’ me another one.”

Joel keeps your back pinned tightly against his hairy chest, your legs spread wide with his hand in between them, patiently swirling his middle and ring fingers around your swollen and over-sensitive clit. Your hips are starting to ache and the sensation of Joel pleasuring you has turned uncomfortable, downright painful.

“I wanna be done, Joel. I can’t do another one,” you whimper, voice shaking as tears well up in your eyes. There’s nowhere to run, and you know you just have to take it. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he whispers soothingly, his ministrations on your pussy unfaltering. Joel’s holding you back. You’re not supposed to tell him no. “Know you can.”

His words serve more to frustrate you than encourage you. “I. Can’t,” you huff as you try to pull away from him and close your legs shut in the now lukewarm and soapy water, but Joel keeps you in position in his vice grip.

“Knock it off,” he growls. Joel has to hide his amusement. You’re quick to anger, just like he is. Just like your daddy. “Jus’ relax.”

You’re close, and whether you realize it or not, Joel does. Your twitching legs, the way you’re breathing. Release is right around the corner if you’d just calm yourself down. Poor thing. You always did struggle with regulating yourself.

“Get - I told you-“ you interrupt yourself to groan, “You’re not listening to me, daddy. I said I c-can’t fucking—” you don’t finish the sentence and instead seethe in frustration, jerking and splashing bath water onto the floor. “F-”

Joel slaps your cheek, hard. “Easy,” he scolds, “I didn’t raise you to speak to me like that.” Joel his nose against the side of your head and bites your ear, the way a dog does with a pup. A warning. “An’ I don’t have to listen to you. You listen to me,” he adds. “Adjust the fuckin’ attitude and try it again before you piss me off.”

Your voice cracks as you whimper Joel’s name, a sob then escaping your chest. Your cheek stings and tingles, like you never stopped feeling the impact of Joel’s hand meeting your skin.

“Don’t start cryin’, just breathe. Breathe. Go slow,” Joel instructs, pleased when you inhale steadily. On your exhale, Joel whispers, “You need me to talk you through it?”

You nod against him, sniffling. “Then I’ll talk you through it. Focus on my voice, focus right here, kiddo,” he tells you. “Relax, just a minute. Calm yourself.”

You rest against Joel, and he pauses his ministrations on your clit. “I can’t do it again, Joel,” you plead. “I don’t think I can.”

“I know what you think. It don’t matter, ‘cause it ain’t up to you, sweetheart. We’re tryin’ it again.”

Joel restarts, circling and massaging your clit with that same pressure from before. And just like before, it’s uncomfortable. It hurts, and you don’t like it.

“Lean into it, sweetheart. Let it ride.”

Frustrated, you shake your head. “Daddy–”

“You need to let it happen. Got all night, sweetheart. Water’s gettin’ cold.”

“Joel.” Your voice cracks.

Joel ignores you. He pumps his fingers, focusing specifically on your g-spot as he knows how sensitive you are there. Your protests begin to quiet, replaced by soft noises of pleasure. “There it is,” Joel purrs. “Make those pretty noises for me. You’re doin’ good.”

Pleasure begins to build, just like Joel said it would. It almost makes you mad, mad that he’s right. Always right. Mad that Joel knows your body like the back of his hand, better than you do. The stubborn part of you wants to stave off release, but a bigger part of you doesn’t wanna fight Joel on this. You don’t like to fight with him anyway. You always lose. So, you allow yourself to bask in the pleasure Joel knew you’d feel.

“You gonna come one more time? You gonna come on daddy’s fingers?”

“Yeah,” you nod. Your eyes squeeze shut as the feeling builds, almost exponentially. Your gasps and moans halt and there it is - Joel’s pulled another orgasm from your body. More powerful than before, the feeling washes over you like the tide, waves of warmth and electricity flowing over your body with each movement of Joel’s fingers. “Yeah, attagirl,” he breathes. “Manners, sweetheart. What do you say?”

“Thank you,” you whisper, out of breath.

Joel rinses you with the water as you come down from your second orgasm of the evening. He taps you twice on the hip, “Up,” he says, and you stand up on shaky legs.

Joel reaches for an old, floral-patterned towel and dries himself off first, then wraps it around his waist, thick belly bulging over the edge of the fabric. He grabs another towel for you next, drying your legs and arms one at a time before wrapping the towel snugly around your shoulders.

“You finish those dishes?” Joel asks, pulling the drain stopper out of the tub.

“Not all of them,” you answer. “I’m sorry.”

“Nah, don’t you worry ‘bout it. I’ll do the rest, hm?”

You wear a small smile, “Okay.”

“An’ I was thinkin’ that I could make us popcorn, like you like. Put on a movie. One of those girly ones I picked out for you, huh?”

Your smile grows. “Yeah,” you answer.

Joel smiles too. “Good. Let’s get you dressed, then.”

thank you for reading! please consider engaging by reblogging, hopping in my inbox, and/or commenting. your words go so far in keeping me motivated to write ♡

More dark!joel

#joel miller x reader #Joel miller smut #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller/reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #joel miller tlou #Joel miller #joel the last of us #dark!joel miller x reader #dark!joel miller #dark!joel #pedro pascal characters

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pedrospatch · 3 months ago

Text

run

Raider! Joel Miller x Female Reader

*moodboard is for aesthetic purposes only. no mention of reader’s race or skin tone.

summary: When you’re given the chance to run from your captor, you don’t take it.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. RAIDER ERA. DARK!JOEL. DUBCON. MENTIONS PREVIOUS NONCON. UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 50). reader is described washing her hair (the exact length is not specified) and she wears a dress. she is also shorter than Joel. violence, kidnapping, reader has major stockholm syndrome, Joel is fairly soft for her but HE IS STILL NOT A GOOD MAN, brief mention of Tess and Joel being involved with each other, Tess seems like the villain but she might actually be the only one of these three who is not totally fucked up in the head. SMUT. daddy kink. size difference (no description of reader’s body type, Joel is just a big guy with a big dick, enjoy it). oral sex (female receiving), super risky unprotected p in v sex (mention of reader ovulating, Joel pulls out, don’t be be like these two, practice safe sex), creampie (yeah he doesn’t give a fuck the second time around). many, many pet names (baby, baby girl, honey, angel, sweetheart, little girl). um i think that’s it. oh, and they fuck in the dirt.

PLEASE HEED ALL WARNINGS.

word count: 8.6k

a/n: one thing about me is i WILL soften up EVERY version of Joel Miller to my little heart’s content. HUGE HUGE thank you to @endlessthxxghts and @joelsdagger for lending me their eyes and beta-ing this fic for me last night. <33 i love and appreciate you guys SO MUCH. i loved seeing you both in the doc at the same exact time lmao. this can be read as a standalone, but it is considered part of the captive universe.

Everyone in the group has a job. Except for you.

Or at least, that’s what you hear them say.

That bitch doesn’t do shit.

She never has to lift a fucking finger.

She should work for her meal—just like the rest of us.

Bitterness laces their tones when they talk about you.

Insults grow a little bolder when he’s not around.

Useless.

Freeloader.

Leech.

You might not be out there with a rifle in hand hunting game or invading camps and spilling blood for supplies—but you do in fact have a job, and that job is to make Joel Miller happy. It is your responsibility, your duty, to please him, and to keep him satisfied. Because keeping him satisfied keeps him in a good mood, and one thing you’ve come to learn about your captor is, where there is a good mood, often there is mercy.

Hell, you’re doing them a favor by keeping their violent, fearsome leader in a good mood. Because you’ve seen what he does to them when he’s not. He can be just as brutal towards his own people as he is to strangers.

It doesn’t make a difference, though. They still see you as nothing more than his coddled little whore.

“Fuck, that’s it.”

He groans, his thick, callused fingers digging harshly into the softness of your flesh as he holds you firmly in place underneath him. “Oh fuck, baby girl,” Joel curses through gritted teeth, his hands gripping your hips as he uses his own weight against you, pressing you down into the old mattress until you feel every uncomfortable lump, each creaking spring.

While he isn’t fucking you as roughly as he has on other occasions, he’s hardly being gentle. It’s hard, fast.

Loud.

Joel couldn’t care less about the rest of the group, the men and women on the other side of the wall, forced to listen to the sounds coming from the single bedroom of the cabin he decided they would hunker down in for the remainder of the summer season. Strings of curses and brutish grunts that came rumbling from deep within his chest, pleading gasps and whimpers that fell from your swollen, bitten lips. If anything, knowing they were listening only spurred him on—it didn’t hurt to remind them, especially the men with wandering eyes, that you were his special girl.

His good girl.

You certainly did your job, and you did it so, so well.

“Christ, sweetheart. M’so fuckin’ close—” Joel picks up speed, his hips snapping even harder, faster, the front of his thighs slapping against the backs of yours. Each thrust causes the bed’s rusted, iron headboard to slam violently against the wood panel wall.

You clutch fistfuls of the single, stale, yellowing sheet beneath you, each stroke he delivers knocking the wind out of your lungs, making it harder to breathe. He is so heavy on top of you, this big, broad, bulk of a man who makes you feel swallowed, smothered, and small. Joel takes up so much room inside of you, and it’s a wonder how you could possibly have any space left to spare.

It’s a fullness you can’t seem to get enough of.

It’s a craving, a need.

Worst of all, it’s slowly becoming a want.

“Daddy,” you choke out, fisting the sheet tighter, your skin stretching taut over your knuckles. Can the others also hear the squelch of your drenched cunt around his cock as it begs him for more?

“Fuck. You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me, baby,” Joel croons his praise. His hands abandon your hips and he hunches over you, his thrusts momentarily ceasing. He crushes his chest against your sweaty, quivering back and leans forward even further, bracing his large hands on either side of you. Then, his lips move to the shell of your ear and he speaks, his breath blazing hot on your skin. “Y’take me so well, honey. Y’take Daddy’s cock so fuckin’ well. This pretty little pussy was fuckin’ made for me. She was made jus’ for me—ain’t that right, angel?”

He’s right.

Oh, how you fucking hated that he was right.

It was made for him. Your cunt. Your body. You.

Every part of you was made for him, and only for him.

All you can do is nod dumbly in agreement.

“Say it,” Joel whispers his firm command. “Wanna hear you say it. Be a good girl and use your words. Say it, say this pussy is made for me.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you moan obediently, prompting him to grin against your ear. “My pussy is made for you, just—just for you. No one—no one else. Only you.” Could this really be the same voice that would break, grow hoarse from screaming for him to stop? The same voice that would beg and plead for him to set you free?

Jutting his hips forward, Joel buries himself to the hilt, eliciting a noise from you, something caught between a pained whimper and a contented sigh. His balls, heavy and full for you, rest on your clit, which is still sensitive to the touch after he’d spent a majority of the morning with his head buried in between your legs. Desiring yet another release, you try wriggling around beneath him in a silent plea for more. More, more, more.

Please, Daddy. More.

Joel’s grin widens. He places one of his hands on your soft lower belly, fingers dragging down the slope of it until he finds the slick swell of your seam between your legs where his girth splits you open. “Ready, baby?”

Nodding, you open your mouth to answer him, but the sound of your own groan cuts you off when his fingers firmly circle around your throbbing, swollen bud. “Oh,” you breathe, instantly sinking right into his touch. Your eyes screw shut tightly in pleasure, and you throw your head back onto his shoulder. The scruff of his beard is rough on your cheek, and it burns, the same way it had burned the tender flesh of your inner thighs.

His hips find their rhythm as you rub against his hand—you’re almost there. He knows this, you can tell by the chuckle that thunders in his chest and against your back. But you’re too busy chasing your pleasure to be embarrassed.

He’s made you a needy, greedy girl.

“Daddy,” you mewl, trying your hardest to move under him, to work your cunt up and down on his cock. “I’m gonna come—” You gasp, back arching as Joel strokes in and out, his fingers rubbing your clit with urgency.

Joel plants a sloppy, wet kiss on your cheek. “Give it to me, baby,” he grunts. “C’mon. Lemme feel her squeeze me.”

Feeling how close he is too, you try to hold on for just a little bit longer, at least long enough to finish with him, but Joel’s relentless, and you’re forced off of the ledge you’re both standing on first.

Crying out, your walls spasm around him, asking to be filled until he’s made a complete mess out of you, until white leaks, and it slowly dribbles down the insides of your trembling thighs.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel rasps. He lifts himself off you and he pulls out, taking his throbbing cock in his hand. His chest heaves as he fists himself, the wet sound of your slick in his palm filling the room. “Down,” he grits, and you obey him, lowering down yourself on the mattress until you’re lying almost completely flat before him. He gives himself one final stroke just as you look over your shoulder at him, the gentle flutter of your eyelashes the last push he needs. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck—” Joel spills his load, shooting thick ropes of warm cum along the soft curve of your spine.

You rest your cheek on your folded arms, biting back a small sigh.

He’s left behind an ache—you feel painfully empty.

But it was Tess, who had been given the task of helping you track your menstrual cycle, that had given him the warning earlier that morning. “She’s ovulating. Don’t be a fucking idiot, Joel. Last thing we need is for her to—”

“Relax,” he’d gruffed in response. “I fuckin’ know.”

Spent, Joel hunches over you once more and he lightly kisses the top of your head before burying his nose into your hair. “Good girl,” he murmurs. Affection that once was unwelcome and unwanted, that once made you feel sick to your fucking stomach, now makes you feel something else entirely. You’re not quite sure what it is, only that it’s warm. Comforting. “Y’did so well for me, sweetheart. Always do.”

Your lips curl into a faint, tired smile he doesn’t see.

A while later, you find yourself perched on the bed with the sheet wrapped around you, quietly watching as he gets dressed. “Daddy?” you say tentatively as he drops into a nearby chair to pull on his boots.

“What is it, baby girl?”

“Do you—do you think we can go to the creek today?”

Joel finishes lacing his boots and looks up at you.

“I’d really like to wash up,” you admit, softly. That, and you would like to see the light of day. He’d boarded up the windows with slabs of wood—sometimes, if you’re lucky, you get some decent light seeping through the teeny gaps.

“Not today, honey. I’ve got some things to take care of. Supplies are low, we gotta do a run. Don’t have the time to take you.” He stands and picks up his rifle, slinging the strap of it over his shoulder. Noticing the crestfallen expression on your face, Joel’s eyes soften. He walks over and gingerly cups the side of your face in his palm. His thumb strokes your cheek. “Promise I’ll take you to the creek tomorrow, sweetheart. First thing. Alright?”

Nodding, your eyes fall to your hands in your lap.

“Okay.”

Joel kisses your forehead, then leaves the room.

He makes sure to lock the door from the outside, and you can’t help but wonder if he knows locking you in is no longer necessary.

“I can take her.”

Joel’s dark eyes remain focused on the state map laid out on the table in front of him. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about, Tess?” He sees her in his periphery, but is too busy figuring out the group’s best route to look her way.

“I heard her asking you to take her to the creek so she can bathe,” she tells him. “I can take her.”

Finally, his head snaps up and he turns to her. “What?”

Tess leans her hip against the table, crossing her arms over her chest. “You and Tommy can take the group, go and take care of what you have to take care of. I’ll stay behind and take her down to the creek,” she suggests casually, as if she’s not asking him to trust her with his most prized possession—the only damn thing on what was left of this fucking earth Joel Miller actually gives a shit about. “Once she’s washed up, I’ll bring her back to the cabin and put her back into the room. Easy.”

Joel stares at her, bewildered. “What makes you think I’d fuckin’ allow somethin’ like that?”

“Oh, come on.” She huffs and rolls her eyes. “Anytime I bitch about having to do something for that girl, you’re on my fucking case about it, and now that I’m offering to do something for her, you don’t wanna let me?”

He shakes his head and lowers his voice. “You’re talkin’ about takin’ her outside, Tess. Without me.”

“The creek’s just a mile away,” Tess reminds him. “I’m pretty sure I can handle getting her there and back with no trouble, Joel.” When he says nothing, she cocks her head to the side and scoffs. “What? You don’t trust me enough to take her under my wing for a couple hours?”

Joel’s lips pull into a tight line.

Of course he does. Tess was his right hand woman, his second in command.

He trusted her more than his own fucking brother. She had never given him any reason not to, had never given him a reason to doubt her loyalty to him. No, his lack of trust has nothing to do with Tess—but everything to do with you. He doesn’t trust you. He will never trust you.

“What if she tries to—?” He can’t even say it.

“Tries to what?” She pauses. “Run?”

His throat goes dry and he gives her a subtle nod.

Joel Miller was a bad man who did bad things, but you were his good. You’ve brought back some meaning into this wretched life of his, gave him something that felt a lot like a sense of purpose. You were something for him to take care of, to keep safe and protect.

Tess raises an eyebrow at him. “You think I’d even give her the chance? Besides, the girl’s not that stupid, Joel. She knows better than to try anything. She knows she wouldn’t get very fucking far.”

“Tess—”

“I’m just trying to do something nice for her. Besides, I think it might do her some good to be in the company of someone else for once—the company of a woman.”

Joel peers at her, taking a minute to think it over in his mind before asking, “You’ll have her back in the room before I get back to the cabin?”

“Long before then,” she swears. “All in one piece.”

He hesitates. He’s still not sure.

It’s then that he remembers that disappointed look on your sweet, pretty little face. “Alright,” he relents with a deep sigh. “I trust you, Tess.”

It always feels a bit strange to be outside.

But being outside without Joel?

It feels even stranger.

When he’d walked back into the room and told you Tess was willing to take you to the creek, the news had taken you by complete surprise. When he said he was willing to let her take you, that you almost couldn’t believe. It hadn’t even sunk in until the three of you stood outside the cabin and he was kissing your forehead sweetly in a temporary goodbye before turning to Tess.

“Never take your eyes off her,” he’d instructed her.

“She’ll behave.” She had smiled at you as she pulled her pistol from the waistband of her jeans, the gleam of the silver barrel catching your eye. “Isn’t that right?”

Swallowing dryly, you had answered with a strained, “Of course.”

She’s the last fucking person you wanted to cross. She was almost as terrifying as Joel, if not more.

“Tess? W-Where are we going?” you ask as you trudge along behind her, hoping you don’t sound as winded as you feel. Although you had no way to keep track of the time, it felt like you’d been trekking for at least an hour. Your feet are starting to hurt in your shoes—old, worn, yellow canvas sneakers that certainly weren’t made for hiking. “I don’t remember the creek being this far from the cabin.”

Tess snorts. “Don’t tell me you’re tired already.”

“It’s just—we’ve been walking for a really long time.”

She glances over her shoulder at you. “Here I thought you would be a little fucking grateful to be out getting some fresh air,” she chuckles, shaking her head before turning her attention back to the path ahead.

“I am,” you squeak, stumbling over a fallen branch.

Silence falls over the both of you.

“We’re not going to the creek,” Tess finally speaks after a minute. “I’m taking you somewhere else. Somewhere even better. Just trust me, kid. Now hurry up.”

It takes another hour before you reach your destination, and you hear it before you can even see it, a humming sound that turns into buzzing the closer you get. Then, you feel it, a vibration in the rocks beneath your feet. “Is that a—?” Stepping around her, your mouth falls open in absolute awe at the sight before you.

The waterfall is nestled right in between the trees and surges over the rocky mountain, throwing up bubbles of spray as it plunges into the lake at the bottom, and from there, it foams into a thick, white lather at the base. On the bank, where you stand, you spot different types of vegetation you couldn’t identify even if you tried—all you know is that it’s green, and it’s beautiful.

“This is incredible,” you gasp.

“Way better than some little creek, huh?” Tess tucks her pistol into the waistband of her jeans and shrugs off her pack. She digs around in the front pocket and pulls out something wrapped in a piece of crumpled brown tissue paper. She hands it to you. “Here.”

“What’s this?”

“Well, if you’d fucking open it, you would know,” Tess rolls her eyes. “It’s my last piece of soap. It’s all yours.”

Her kind generosity comes as a surprise—usually, Tess wanted nothing to do with you. But you don’t question it, and you certainly don’t turn the rare luxury down.

“Thanks,” you say, shooting her a grateful look.

Tess nods towards the body of water. “Alright, then. Go on and get to it.”

You take the piece of soap out the tissue. The scent of lavender is faint, but still very much there. Joel will like the smell of it on your skin tonight, you think.

As you start to pull the strap of your cotton blue dress down your shoulder, you feel her gaze fixed intently on you. Heat rushes to your cheeks. “Uh, aren’t you going to turn around?”

“For fuck’s sake,” she scoffs. “I’ve got what you’ve got. Now hurry up, we don’t have all fucking day.”

Nodding, you peel off your dress and underwear, your face on fire as the older woman’s eyes slowly drag over your naked body. Carefully, you step off the bank and wade into the water. It’s so clear that you can count the pebbles underneath your feet.

Leaning against a nearby tree, Tess calls out, “You have ten minutes! And stay out of the waterfall! Last thing I need is for you to fucking drown.”

As she lights a cigarette, you can’t help but stare at her. Her features, though worn down after the hell she had been through trying to survive the post outbreak world, are beautiful. Big, dark green eyes, a perfect nose, and full, pouty lips. There’s never been a doubt in your mind that she and Joel have been involved with one another, and lately, the mere thought of anything between them made you uncomfortable.

It’s an odd sensation deep in your gut—jealousy?

But what were you jealous of? Her having had him first?

It shouldn’t matter to you, but it does. Insecurities you have never in your life felt before seep into your bones.

“Anyone ever tell you it’s fucking rude to stare?” Tess quips, raising an eyebrow at you. She shoves her lighter into the back pocket of her jeans.

Nervously, you sink lower into the water, nibbling the inside of your cheek. “Tess? Can I ask you something?”

“What could you possibly fucking want to ask me?”

You hesitate.

“How—how long have you known each other?”

“Who?” Tess plucks the cigarette from between her lips and flicks the ashes. “Me and Joel?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

She shrugs. “Don’t know. Six, seven years?”

“How did you two meet?”

“Long story that’s none of your fucking business.”

You ask your next question before you lose your nerve. “Have you two ever—?” Unsure of how to phrase it, you stop and clamp your mouth shut in instant regret.

“Have we ever what?” Tess studies your face, and she quickly realizes what you’re trying to ask her. “You’re seriously asking me if me and Joel have ever fucked?”

Biting your bottom lip, you glance down into the water at your feet. You honestly don’t expect her to answer, so when she does, you look back up at her in surprise.

“Yeah.” She takes a long drag from her cigarette, then adds, “Few times.”

Something unpleasant claws at your insides. “You two were together? Like a couple?”

“Something like that,” Tess mutters, flicking her ashes once more.

“What happened?”

She looks at you, pausing before answering, “You.”

Oh.

Before you can utter another word, Tess snaps, “Quit asking so many goddamn fucking questions and finish up washing. You’ve got eight minutes left.”

Not wanting to push your luck further than you already have, you do as she tells you in complete silence.

You lather up the soap in your hands, washing your hair first, and then your face and body, using your hands to scrub yourself as best as you can. Between the calming scent of the soap, the soothing sound of the waterfall, and the warm afternoon sun, you find yourself relaxing. You try to clear your mind, live in this peaceful moment which you very well may never get again, but your mind begins to wander.

And it wanders straight to Joel.

Closing your eyes, you can’t help but picture him here, standing behind you in the lake. You can almost feel his hands on you, long, thick fingers lathered with lavender soap, sliding down your body. His lips at your neck, he cups your breasts in his hands, rolling his thumbs over your hardened nipples until your head lulls, falling back onto his shoulder. Joel drags his hands further down, over your stomach, going lower and lower towards the place where you need them the most. “Yeah, baby?” he murmurs into your neck, dipping one of them between your legs until you are, quite literally, in the palm of his hand. “This where y’need me?”

Breathless, you respond, “It’s where I want you.”

Suddenly, your eyes snap open.

There is a wetness between your thighs, one that has nothing to do with the fact that you’re standing waist-deep in the middle of a lake. You shake those thoughts away and finish washing yourself.

“Time’s up,” Tess calls. She meets you on the bank with a dry rag. “Here.”

The rag doesn’t exactly cover much surface area, but you dry yourself off as best you can before tugging on your underwear and slipping on your dress. Just as you crouch down to slip your shoes on, she tosses her pack and it lands in front of you with a soft thud.

Confused, you glance up at her.

“There’s about a week’s worth of jerky in there. Longer, if you know how to ration,” Tess explains, calmly. “And a canteen for water. I also packed you a flashlight and a pocket knife. It’s not much, but—”

Frowning, you rise to your feet. “What are you talking about, Tess? What’s going on? Why are you giving me your pack?”

“Because I’m giving you a chance, kid.”

A feeling of dread pools in the pit of your stomach.

“A chance to what?”

“Run.”

Your heart stutters a beat. “Run?”

“He’ll come looking for you. You need to get as far away from here as possible. Run away, as far as you can, and don’t fucking look back.”

All you can do is stare at her in shocked silence.

“I can help you get a head start,” Tess offers, quietly. “I can show you which direction to go in and put you on a path leading to the closest state highway—”

“But what if I don’t want to run?”

Tess places her hands on her hips, and she exhales an incredulous laugh. “Jesus,” she breathes, shaking her head in pity. “He’s really got you fucking brainwashed, doesn’t he?”

You glare at her. “I am not brainwashed, Tess.”

“You’ve gotta be if you’re telling me you wanna go back to him.”

“Tess—”

She cuts you off. “He gave the order to raid your camp and kill your people,” she reminds you. “He fucking slit your father’s throat right in front of you, then took you as his prisoner. He made you his fucking sex slave.”

“He takes care of me! He feeds me, makes sure I have a bed to sleep in no matter where we are. He keeps me safe. He—he cares about me.” You will your voice not to tremble as you stand your ground. “No. I’m not running away, Tess. I want to go back.”

Tess sighs. “You’re really not gonna make this easy, are you?”

“Take me back,” you all but demand, your hands curled into the least menacing little fists she had ever seen in her life at your sides. “Take me back to the cabin—take me back to him, Tess. I mean it.”

Amused, she huffs through her nose. “Or else what?”

“You can’t make me run away, Tess.” As you take a step towards her, she reaches behind her and swiftly whips out her pistol from the waistband of her jeans. You halt, freezing in fear when she aims the barrel of the gun at your chest.

“Actually, I can,” she says, her finger hovering over the trigger. “So here’s how this is gonna go. I’m gonna walk away now. And if you even think about following me, or trying to find your way back to the group, you will die.” She tosses you a tiny, wry smile. “Believe it or not, I’m doing you a real big favor, kid. Problem is, he’s got you so fucked in the head that you can’t see it.”

“Tess, please,” you plead. “Don’t do this to me!”

She begins to back away. “Remember when you’d say that to him? How you’d beg him not to do those things to you every night? Beg him to let you go?”

“Please, just take me back to him!”

You start to follow her.

“You take one more fucking step and I’ll shoot you,” she threatens, her eyes darkening. “Don’t think I won’t.”

Tess keeps her pistol pointed at you until she slips into the trees and disappears, abandoning you in the middle of the forest.

He’s furious. Livid.

Joel paces back and forth on the porch.

“Where the fuck are they?”

The old, rotting wood that wraps all the way around the cabin creaks, and certain softer spots bend and buckle, threatening to give way beneath his heavy boots. Joel’s younger brother leans against the railing, which is just as fragile, an unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

“Christ, Joel. Can you fuckin’ relax?” Tommy grumbles, fishing around in his back pocket for his lighter. “You’re gonna bring the whole damn cabin down if ya don’t cut that shit out.” He sparks a flame and lights the filtered end of the cigarette. He takes a long drag, and exhales the smoke through his nose. “You’re gettin’ worked up over nothin’, brother.”

“S’almost sundown, and they’re still not fuckin’ back.” Joel shakes his head. “Fuckin’ knew I shouldn’t have let Tess take her. Somethin’ happened, Tommy. I just know it.” He lifts his shirt and reaches for his pistol, pulling it from the waistband of his jeans. “M’gonna head to the creek myself to find ‘em. Ain’t gonna sit around on my goddamn hands and wait for it to get fuckin’ dark.”

“She’s with Tess. M’sure the girl’s fine—” Tommy stops, his eyes widening slightly. “Well, hell.”

“What?”

Tommy jerks his chin over Joel’s shoulder before taking another slow, casual drag of his cigarette. He savors the last few seconds of peace before shit inevitably hits the fan and his brother unleashes his wrath on anything, or anyone, in his path.

Joel whips around and his stomach sinks, his blood ice in his veins when he sees Tess approaching the cabin. Alone.

Both his mind and body go numb. It’s a jarring shock to his nervous system, and it takes him a minute or two to fully process the fact that you’re not with her.

“Joel,” Tess says his name carefully as he descends the porch steps and walks towards her. “I need you to take a breath, alright?”

“Where—where is she?” His voice breaks, his weakness momentarily slipping through the cracks.

Not that Tess didn’t already know you were Joel Miller’s weakness, his soft white underbelly, the only vulnerable part of his hardened self that could be penetrated—you would have been his downfall. As much as she’d like to say she did what she did solely for your own good, she also did it for his, and for the sake of the group as a whole.

It needed to be done.

He stands in front of her, a ticking time bomb about to go off.

Prepared to face whatever consequences of the choice she had made, Tess tucks her gun away and sighs. “You need to take a breath—”

Joel snatches her arm, his fingers digging into the flesh above her elbow. His emotions hit him all at once.

Fear, worry, anger. It’s the third that takes precedence, and before Tess can utter another word, Joel yanks her forward. She crashes against his chest so hard that it knocks the wind out of her. “Where the fuck is she?” He leans down, his nostrils flaring as he brings their faces the closest they have been in almost a year.

“Joel, take a fucking breath—”

“Where. Is. She.” His grip on her arm tightens with each word he bites out through his teeth. He’s vaguely aware the others have piled out of the cabin, gathering on the porch to watch the altercation.

“She ran,” Tess explains, calmly. She doesn’t falter, not even as his fingers sink deeper into her skin, promising her painful bruises which will take days to fade away. If he decided to let her live. “She ran away, Joel. I turned my back for one fucking second and she was gone. She even took my fucking pack. I tried going after her, but it was no use. She was too fast.”

Behind him, Tommy snorts. “She outran you?”

Her eyes momentarily flicker to him. “Her knees are a lot younger than mine,” she replies, flatly.

“Which direction did she go in?” Joel demands. When Tess doesn’t immediately respond, he shouts, “Which fucking direction!”

Tess manages to snatch her arm out of his grasp. She glowers at him, hissing, “What the hell does it matter which direction she went? You won’t fucking find her.”

His eyes meet hers, and he sees it. Feels it.

She’s lying to him.

“Tess.” Joel’s voice drops dangerously low. He studies her face, his brows creasing with suspicion. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do shit, Joel. She fucking ran away.”

Without warning, Joel takes her by her throat. His other hand brings his pistol to her head, shoving the barrel of it against her temple. His nose touches hers. “Now, tell me why I have the feelin’ you’re not tellin’ me the whole truth?”

Tess lifts her chin. She searches his eyes, a sharp ache shooting through her. After everything, all the hell they had been through together—he would end her life, put a bullet in her because of you? Did she mean that little to him?

Or maybe she’d never meant anything to him at all?

She’s not sure which stings more.

“Because you’ve fucking deluded yourself into thinking that she willingly wants anything to do with you,” Tess finally answers. “That’s why.”

He ignores the burn of her scorching words.

“Where the fuck is she, Tess?”

“If she’s smart, she’s far away from here by now,” she hisses. “I did everyone a fucking favor, Joel. That girl is just another fucking mouth to feed. And what if you get her pregnant? That’ll be another one. Not to mention, a crying baby could draw unwanted attention and get us all killed. Ever thought about that? She’s not an asset to the group, she’s a fucking liability. Besides, I think I can speak for everyone when I say we’re all fucking tired of hearing you ra—”

Joel digs the barrel harder into her temple, his finger hovering over the trigger. “Listen to me. You’ve got ten seconds to tell me where she is, y’understand me?”

“Or what? You’ll blow my brains out?” Foolishly, Tess chooses to call his bluff despite not knowing for certain whether or not he’ll actually pull the trigger. “Go ahead, then. Kill me, Joel.”

His finger twitches over the trigger, but he doesn’t pull it. He can’t fucking pull it. Not on her. Not on Tess.

Still in his hands, she sags slightly in relief.

Swallowing harshly, Joel Miller lowers his gun and does something she’s never seen him do before. He begs.

“Tess, tell me where she is,” he whispers. His pleading is subtle, and only she can hear it. “Please—just fuckin’ tell me where my girl is.”

Tess stands her ground and says nothing.

Releasing her, Joel shoves her aside and with nothing but his gun in his hand, he sets off to find you.

“Ow, fuck!”

You gasp, quickly lifting your bare foot off the ground.

You’d stepped on something sharp—a stick, or maybe a rock?

In a desperate attempt to try and keep up with Tess’ tracks, you had stupidly left behind your shoes back at the waterfall. But the mere seconds you had spared by not stopping to put your shoes on hadn’t given you the advantage you thought it would. She had moved much too fast, and within minutes, you’d become helplessly, hopelessly lost. Every tree and every bush, they all look exactly the same, and for all you know, you’ve probably been going around in fucking circles for the past couple of hours in your search for her footprints in the dirt.

Sagging against the trunk of a nearby tree, you take a minute to try and catch your breath, to give your poor little feet a break from hiking over fallen branches and jagged stones.

Your head falls back, eyes gazing through the canopy of trees. Dusk has settled in, and nightfall is on its heels. It was foolish of you to leave behind your shoes, but even more so to leave behind the pack she had given you—in the pack were all the things meant to help you survive. Knife, flashlight, food.

Sure, you can survive a night out here in the wilderness without any of those things—but then what? Come dawn, what do you do? Where do you go? Do you just stumble around in the woods and hope for the best? Pray you’ll make it onto a highway with signs that will point you to a quarantine zone?

Hell, maybe you’re overestimating yourself. Maybe you wouldn’t survive long enough to worry about your next move. Howls in the distance remind you there’s wildlife out here, dangerous predators that come out after dark in search of their next meal. Or what about infected? It wasn’t unheard of for them to veer off the highway and lose themselves in the trees.

You recall your first few weeks in Joel Miller’s hands.

Escaping them was all you could ever think about, even though the chances of you surviving alone were slim to none, just like they are now. Never having been on your own, death would have been inevitable—but back then, in your darkest moments in captivity, you wished for it. You’d welcomed the idea of starving, freezing, or being torn apart limb from limb by an entire hoard of clickers. At least then, you’d die with your freedom.

Almost a year later, that wish has been granted.

You’re free.

You may very well die, but you would die free.

Closing your eyes, you think about Joel. His arms, that once held you down—held you still—as he did all those things to you without your consent, are arms your heart yearns to have wrapped around you, holding you close.

“Jesus,” you grit, a tear rolling down your cheek.

Maybe Tess had been right. Maybe he really does have you fucked in the head.

Joel was a monster. He had taken everything from you, including your innocence. He’d defiled you in ways you hadn’t known were possible. He was a terrible, terrible man.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you fed.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you warm.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you safe.

Another tear slides down the side of your face. What is fucking wrong with you?

You don’t know. But what you do know is, the thought of never seeing Joel again is somehow more terrifying to you than the thought of dying even the most brutal of deaths.

A loud rustling sound brings your train of thought to an immediate, sudden halt, and your eyes wrench open.

It’s darker now, but you manage to catch a movement in the shrubs, only mere feet in front of you. Panic flares in your chest, it rattles you to your very core, and even though every nerve in your body is urging you to move, you freeze, your back flush against the tree trunk. Your fingernails dig painfully into the bark as you watch the shrubs part down the middle, and a tall, hulking figure emerges with a heavy grunt.

At first, you think it’s just a figment of your imagination showing you what you wanted to see—a hallucination. Blinking furiously, you lightly shake your head, and then take another look at him. Your breath hitches when you realize it’s Joel.

He stares at you in the same manner, as if he’s trying to figure out if you’re real, or if his mind is playing a cruel, cruel trick on him. Feet cemented to the forest floor, he watches you take a small, tentative step towards him.

Once adamant that you’d never look him in the eye, you find your gaze locking directly with his as you carefully take another step closer. Then another, and another.

“Joel?” It’s the first time you’ve ever uttered his name.

He seems as taken aback hearing it as you are saying it.

“Joel.” It rolls off your tongue smoother, and with more ease the second time around.

It sparks a flame somewhere deep, deep inside of him, a fire that burns differently than those ignited by carnal desires.

No, this is something else entirely, and you feel it too.

“Baby?” he whispers hoarsely. “S’that really you?”

“Joel!” you cry, hurling yourself into his arms.

Joel’s gun falls from his hand and he curls them around you. Burying his nose into your hair, he inhales deeply. The scent of you, the feel of you—you’re fucking real.

Shuddering with sobs of relief, your arms wrap around his waist, and you cling to him as if you’re clinging onto dear, precious life itself.

“Hush now, s’alright,” Joel soothes, cradling the back of your head in one hand, while the rubs soft, calming circles into your back. “I’ve got you, honey. M’here.”

“I swear I didn’t want to run away,” you explain through your tears. “I begged her to take me back to you, Joel, I really did! But she left me out here—she said she would shoot me if I tried following her back. Please, you have to believe me, you just have to believe me!”

He squeezes you harder against his chest. “I do, baby. I do believe you,” he assures you. Pulling away, he takes a step backward and takes your face between his palms, peering at you in concern. “Y’hurt, sweetheart?”

“No,” you hiccup, curling your hands around his wrists. Your lower lip trembles. “I—I thought I’d never see you again. I was scared I wouldn’t,” you admit, softly.

Joel’s thumb wipes away a fresh tear. “M’here now,” he murmurs. “You’re with me, baby. You’re safe, alright?” As a late evening breeze passes through, he lets you go and shrugs out of his brown jacket. He goes to drape it around your shoulders, but you snatch it right out of his hands, then toss it aside.

Something in you snaps. You take fistfuls of his flannel, pulling him down towards you to do yet something else that takes you both by surprise—you initiate a kiss. You lean forward and press your lips to his, a little swipe of your tongue across his bottom lip as you clutch tighter at his shirt, holding him in place. Groaning, Joel opens his mouth more, his tongue brushing yours.

Liquid heat pools in your belly, and before you realize it, you’ve grown frantic, kissing him with fervor. Releasing his shirt, you slide your hands down his chest, over his stomach, lower and lower until you find his belt buckle. Desperate, you clumsily fumble with it, and that’s when Joel tears away from you, his breath hitching.

You’re begging before he can even say a word. “Please. I need you—I want you. Right now.”

You cup him through his jeans, and he exhales sharply.

“Fuck.” Without giving it a second thought, his hands reach for the straps of your dress, pushing them off of your shoulders. He roughly tugs at the material, letting it slip down your body until it falls around your feet. In a tangle of limbs and tongues, you both sink to the forest floor. Your hands brush his buckle, and he catches your wrists. “Not yet, baby girl. M’still in charge, alright?”

Sheepishly, you nod.

“Say it.” His command is firm, but somehow still gentle.

“You’re—you’re in charge.”

“Good girl.” Joel guides you onto your back. He’s over you in a second, swelling your lips with a hard, hungry kiss that leaves you dizzy and breathless. He moves his mouth, teeth scraping over your cheek and jaw, down to your neck where he nips at the tender, delicate flesh over your pulse point. Then, he bites his way over your collarbone and to your shoulder. “Bet she’s already wet for me,” he mumbles into your skin. “Ain’t she, baby?”

Pushing himself back onto his knees, he slides a finger over your clothed cunt, eliciting a small gasp from you. Hooking his fingers under the elastic waistband of your cotton underwear, he yanks the fabric down your legs. It catches on your foot, your wetness smearing against the inside of your ankle.

You’re drenched.

“C’mere,” Joel grunts, sliding his hands under your ass and pulling your hips over his thighs. He leans over you once more, your bare, throbbing cunt rubbing against the crotch of his jeans. He tuts lightly into your neck as you buck against him. “Such a fuckin’ needy little girl.”

Desperate, you try rolling your hips into his. “Joel.”

“Kinda like it when y’say my name.” He starts making his way down the length of your body. “Think I’ll like it even better when you’re screamin’ it. Won’t I, baby?”

Your stomach tightens as he nibbles his way down your neck again, teeth scraping over your clavicle and down your chest to your heaving tits. Taking one in his hand, the other goes into his mouth—his tongue is scorching hot over your nipple. He licks the pebbled flesh, sucks it and bites it while he rolls the other peak in between his thumb and index finger. “Oh fuck,” you gasp.

Releasing your breast with a wet pop, Joel sinks further down your body. He plants hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your tummy, leaving behind a trail of fire in their wake. He stops over your mound and hovers for a fraction of a second before pressing his nose into the silky soft curls there. Inhaling deeply, Joel picks up the subtle, herbal scent of the lavender soap you had washed yourself with. “Fuck, y’smell so fuckin’ good.”

He pushes your thighs open, pinning one to the ground with his hand while the other goes over his shoulder. Your foot slides down his back, toes curling despite the fact that he hasn’t even reached the spot where you’re aching to have him most. Heart thundering, your blood rushes, roaring in your ears.

Joel turns his head, his lips brushing your inner thigh in another kiss. “S’this where y’want me, honey?” he asks you. Goosebumps erupt over every inch of your skin as he draws closer, his breath like steam on your core. He glances up at you, his cock twitching against his zipper at the sight of you laying naked before him on the floor of the forest. Willing. Wanting. “Hm? Right here?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please, Joel.”

Thankfully, you only have to ask him once, and then his face is buried between your legs, and he is giving you what you want.

“Fuck!” you cry out. Back arching, your head tilts back until the crown of it meets the ground, leaves and twigs finding their way into your clean hair.

Joel’s tongue flattens over your cunt in a broad stroke, then dips between your folds, collecting your slick with a harsh groan, one that sends a bone-rattling vibration throughout your entire body, from head to curled toes. His mouth opens wider—a starving, greedy man trying to eat you whole. Sliding his tongue over your clit, Joel seals his lips around it, sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves until it swells in his mouth.

High-pitched little cries and whines spill from your lips. Your hands shoot down, fingers tangling themselves in his dark, graying curls, eliciting a grunt from him when you tug at his roots. “Joel, fuck,” you choke, your nails scraping against his scalp. He slurps and swallows your wetness, the sounds drowning out those of the night—the chirping of crickets, the croaking of frogs, the soft hooting of owls are washed away until all you can hear is him devouring your pussy.

Your body starts to tremble, and you know you’re close. Joel does, too. He feels your thighs twitch, threatening to close around his head, but he wrenches them further apart with a muffled but firm, “No.” He drapes his arm over your pelvis, his large hand splayed on your belly.

Relentless, he sucks your clit, gliding his tongue over it, again and again until the muscles in your lower tummy tighten and you burst at the seams, unraveling into his mouth. Warm slick gushes out of you, a sweet mess he licks clean. You choke back sobs of pleasure, your body tensing, vision blurring with every stroke of his tongue, each scrape of his teeth over your clit.

Joel lifts himself onto his knees with a grunt and gazes down at you—his good girl, sweet and pliant and ready to be fucked full of his cock. His hands slide his belt out of its brass buckle, eyes still trained on you as he pops the button of his jeans and yanks down his zipper.

Your mind is fuzzy, still syrupy and dripping—it doesn’t fully register what he’s doing, not until he climbs back over you and you his hard cock brushes your thigh, hot velvet that sears the inside of your leg. Precum smears your flesh.

“Y’feel that? Feel what you fuckin’ do to me?”

“Joel.” Hands shaking, you reach for the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel more of his skin on yours. You whine when he catches both of your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head. “Your clothes—”

“Stay on.” Ducking his head, he nips at your pulse point and mumbles, “Tell me what y’want, pretty girl.”

Joel shifts over you, his cock now resting on your lower belly, thick and heavy and leaking.

You squirm under him, hips coming off the ground, that hollow thing inside of you begging to be filled.

“Use your words, sweetheart. Tell me what y’want.”

“You, Joel—I want you. Please, please, please—”

He hushes you.

“I’ve you, baby. I’ve got you,” Joel promises. He wraps his other hand around himself, dragging the head of his cock along the seam of your puffy folds, up and down—he elicits a ragged little gasp from you when he grazes your clit and his fingers tighten around your wrists. He coats himself in your slippery slick until he’s glistening with it, and then he gives a slow roll of his hips, working himself into you.

Your mouth falls open. No words come out, no pleas for more—only jerky breaths, pathetic little pants for air as you take it.

Joel’s cock throbs, pulses like a heartbeat as your cunt welcomes him home. He presses his forehead to yours. “She’s always so fuckin’ sweet to me.” His voice is low, rough gravel. His eyes meet yours in the dark blue glow of the forest, and he savors the last moments of seeing your pretty face before the last traces of dusk are gone. Brushing his lips to the corner of your mouth, he feeds you his cock inch by inch, murmuring, “That’s it, honey. Good fuckin’ girl.”

You melt around him at his praise.

Releasing your wrists, he moves his hand, placing it on the crown of your head. “Ain’t ever lettin’ you out of my sight again,” he swears. “Alright? Never gonna be apart from me again, baby girl. Never. Y’understand me?” He curls his other hand firmly around your jaw, his fingers sticky with you and him. “Do you understand me?”

“Never,” you repeat, softly.

Joel kisses you, deep and slow, almost sweet. Tender. He breaks away, his lips hovering right over yours as he pushes his hips forward, bottoming out inside you.

Moaning, your hands grasp at his shoulders. Your legs widen further to accommodate the breadth of his hips.

“There y’go.” Joel presses deep within, until your belly feels hot and full. “That’s it, baby. Good girl,” he coos, drawing his hips back, then rolling them right back into you. He takes one of your ankles and tosses it over his shoulder, giving himself a better angle to fuck into you.

A loud cry tears from the back of your throat. “Joel!”

He grins in the darkness. He knew he’d like hearing you scream his name.

Joel’s hand settles on your leg that’s over his shoulder, your thigh already shaking. “Y’gonna be a real good girl n’ give me another one?”

You try to answer him, you really do, but your mind falls further and further away.

His fingertips sink into your thigh. He strokes in and out of you, never retreating more than inches at a time so he keeps you full. Stuffed. “Christ. Takin’ it so fuckin’ well,” he croons, moving your leg off of his shoulder so they are both wrapped around his waist. Hunching over you, he bears down hard, using most of his weight. He almost chuckles at the little oof that puffs out of you.

Rocks and twigs dig painfully into your back, but all you can do is feel him. How close he is.

You’re right there with him.

“Joel—fuck, I’m gonna co—”

You’re cut off by your own sharp gasp.

“That’s it. C’mon, honey.” Joel slips his hand between your thighs, his fingers firmly rubbing your clit. “C’mon, baby. Be a good girl and come on my cock—”

It rips through you like an electric current, a shockwave that has you clawing at the dirt. You come crying Joel’s name, crumbling into a whimpering, quivering mess.

Within seconds, he’s swept away by the same tide.

“Baby,” he groans, dropping his head into the hollow of your neck. He goes still and lets your tight cunt clench at him, gripping his cock as it throbs, pulses, empties into you. After a minute, he brushes a kiss to your neck before mumbling, “My sweet girl.”

Joel makes no move to pull out of you. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, your soiled fingers toy with the soft curls at the nape of his neck, shattered breaths slowing and piecing back together.

You gaze up through the trees at the night sky, feeling the safest you’ve ever been with the earth at your back and your whole world on top of you, his cock buried in your cunt.

Tess is right. Joel Miller really does have you fucked in the head.

You’re certain of it when you make the realization with a smile.

divider credit to @/saradika 🖤

for fic notifications please follow @joelsgreysupdates!

#why yes #i AM going to queue this to post when i am dead asleep #captive!joel #dark joel miller #dark! joel miller #tw dubcon #tw dubious consent #tw noncon #tw dark fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #fic: run

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sanarsi · 3 months ago

Text

Sweet treat

perv!neighbor!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: You came to your family home for a vacation. The obsession that is born in Joel pushes him to do very bad things. Warnings: +18, MDNI, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, PERV!Joel, stalking, hidden recording, hidden masturbation, obsessive!Joel, noncon, fingering, pussy eating, unprotected PIV, creampie, age gap (not specified), no-outbreak au Wordcount: 4,7k An: Hey, I’d like to ask you to read the warnings, because the content below may not be for everyone! One shot contains elements of stalking and obsession with reader(you). There is also a NON-CON sex scene. You read at your own risk! Enjoy! Music I worked with: THE DINNER - Billie Eilish

Masterlist

The moment his eyes landed on you, the world spun.

Your eyes sparkled like two fireflies, catching the attention of predators. A wide smile was painted on your face, which made his heart beat faster. A white top hugged your breasts tightly, giving him a perfect view of your nipples. On top of that, sweatpants shorts that barely covered your butt.

And all this for free, first thing in the morning when like every day, he went out to check the mail.

But that day, he came home with such a hard cock that he stood in the shower for the next thirty minutes, coming twice.

At his age? Without the blue pill? It was like salvation.

And it was all because of you.

That day, you became his curse.

It started innocently. You went out for the mail at the same time as him. You always looked beautiful when you were sleepy. And Joel caught himself standing by the mailbox and just watching you. Like some kind of creep.

But he couldn't fight it.

He couldn't take his eyes off your body.

He didn't want to take his eyes off your body.

He stood there, letting his cock harden painfully in his pajama pants. All you had to do was come closer, and you could see the tent in his pants. But you never came.

You always smiled at him and waved, shouting "Good morning, Mr. Miller", in greeting.

You had such a sweet voice. Such a charming smile. And all he could do was nod, as always with a straight face.

All he had to do, was barely open his mouth and a moan would escape his throat. He couldn't stop it.

All you had to do was speak up, look in his direction, give him that beautiful smile, for his cock to quiver as if he was about to come.

It scared him.

It scared him how intensely he reacted to even the thought of you. It scared him that at his age, he had started cumming several times a day, as if he were a teenager again. Several times a day his cock was so hard he couldn't walk without feeling physical and mental pain. And every time he finished, your name would spill from his lips.

At first he felt awful. You were young, innocent, nice, and he was acting like a common pervert. He couldn't stop. He couldn't look at you like you were a normal person. He couldn't ignore you sunbathing in the garden.

It wasn't his fault that his bedroom window gave a perfect view of your garden. And it wasn't his fault that he was standing, hiding behind the wall, watching you smear sunscreen on your body. And it certainly wasn't his fault that his hand was pumping his hard cock until he came a second time against the wall.

Even at night he didn't get any peace from you. You haunted his dreams like an apparition. Your shiny eyes looking at him with desire. Your delicate lips entwining his cock. Your sweet tits rubbing against his skin.

Even in his dreams he couldn't rest.

Every day he woke up hard as a rock or coming in his sleep. In the worse case, his boxers leaked from warm cum.

He got up, lived, fell asleep and slept, and you were constantly in his head.

And that was for a few weeks. And the whole time he behaved like a common boor in your company.

He never returned your smile, didn't answer you, didn't wish you a nice day, nothing.

You saw him talking to other neighbors, how he talked to his daughter on the phone, how he talked to everyone except you. At first you thought he stopped liking you. After all, when you were younger, you played with his daughter, and everything was fine then. So what could have changed?

You matured.

You became a woman so tempting that his brain stopped working normally.

He stopped seeing anything wrong with spying on you spending a sunny day in the garden. There was nothing wrong with watching you get ready for bed in your own bedroom.

Everything about you stopped being wrong.

But everything started to get to him.

Going to work was such a big challenge that he installed several cameras in the house. Cameras perfectly positioned to spy on you. And he did it. Even while at work.

He watched on his phone how you hung up the laundry, sticking out your ass. How you dug through flowers, kneeling and showing your tits perfectly for the camera.

And he came.

In the car, in the bathroom, on his lunch break.

His balls were still full and seemed bottomless.

How could they be when he had so many treats before him?

He spent his evenings either watching you or watching videos of you. The hot tea had long since cooled down, standing on the table, waiting for Joel to take at least one sip.

But he was busy.

His pants were off his hips and his hard cock was in his hand. That was more important. The recording from this afternoon, when you were lying on the deckchair in the garden. But this time you weren't sunbathing. This time your hand was immersed in your shorts, when you shamelessly touched your cunt. The recording was without sound, but Joel could hear you moaning in his mind, arching your body in pleasure. He could only imagine how beautiful your singing sounded.

What a frenzy you could drive him to if he was home then…

Another growl echoed through the room as he squeezed his cock harder so as not to come too quickly. Your hand ran over your stomach to the tit that you squeezed. He shuddered again, demanding an orgasm. His balls squeezed painfully as your hand pushed aside the material of your bra, giving him a perfect view of your sweet tits. And that was enough to make him come with a hiss.

Hot cum began to drip down his fingers, but his cock refused to soften, oh no, he was still hard, the head furiously red, slowly turning blue. And Joel continued to squeeze it painfully at the base, as if the pain was bringing him any relief from all this.

The doorbell tore him out of his hypnosis.

The phone fell out of his hand as he jumped slightly in place. He cursed under his breath, bending down to pick up the device and quickly locked the phone, placing it on the table. He glanced over his shoulder towards the door, just as you looked through the small window next to you to see if anyone was home.

"Fuck," he said, terrified. His heart sped up and his eyes widened at the sight of your face blurred through the decorative glass.

In his haste, he let go of his cock and wiped his hand on the leg of his pants. Unfortunately for him, the cum had started to congeal so his hand was all sticky.

"Fuck," he growled, pulling his boxers and pants up over his hips. There was a knock on the door. "I'm coming!" he shouted, getting up from the sofa and fighting with his jammed zipper, heading towards the hallway.

Silently cursing under his breath, he straightened his crumpled shirt and opened the door, almost ripping it off its hinges. His gaze immediately fell on you and how you jumped scared on the spot. And your tits did the same.

Fuck.

"Mr. Miller, good morning," you said with a fast beating heart. Your wide smile and the way you looked at his face quickly caused another dose of cum after orgasm to fly into his cock. He clenched his jaw tighter seeing you reach out your hand towards him.

Why did you have to give him your right hand?

His own, tightened around the door handle. Silence fell between you which clearly indicated to you to take your hand away. You cleared your throat nervously, shifting your weight from one foot to another.

Nothing escaped his attention. You were stressed.

No wonder.

He acted as if he was at least possessed.

"I made a cake," you started with a crooked smile. Only then, he notice the tray of chocolate cake you were holding. "And I thought I would visit you. Is Sarah here?"

"She's not here," he replied more sharply than he intended. A shadow of disappointment crossed your face but you immediately hid it by smiling pleasantly.

"Then we can eat together," you suggested, looking at him with sparks of hope in your eyes.

The stain of moisture on his boxers was getting bigger and bigger. And all he wanted now was to slam the door before your face.

But he ended up moving aside to let you in.

A radiant smile immediately appeared on your lips when you walked past him. Your shoulder brushed against his and the sweet perfume intoxicated him so much that for a few long seconds he simply stood by the open door.

He made a big mistake by letting you into his home.

You entered the lion's den yourself, giving yourself to him on a plate.

Something dark flew through his eyes as he slowly closed the door and as quietly as he could, turned all the locks. His heart was beating like crazy in his chest as he stared at the dark wood. The sounds from the kitchen barely reached his mind.

While you were calmly preparing plates and forks, he was fighting with something animalistic that was being born in his chest.

But then your voice echoed off the walls. "Are you coming?"

Then he stopped fighting.

His heart slowed down, beating slowly and powerfully. He took a deep breath and straightened up, immediately getting bigger. A smile filled with evil appeared on his face.

"I'm coming," he said in a strong voice and slowly headed to the kitchen. You bustled around in every direction, putting a piece of cake on plates and in the meantime making coffee. "I see you still remember where everything is," he said lightly, watching the way your fingers wrapped around the crowd you were currently holding.

Your small fingers on his cock would look much better.

He wondered if you would be able to embrace him with one hand.

"I have the impression that there are things hidden here that you have no idea about," you joked, glancing at him over your shoulder. Joel snorted under his breath and sat down at the table.

He didn't take his eyes off you for even a moment. You looked so natural as you walked around his kitchen. He could get used to the sight. But his dick would need time. Because it was trembling painfully with every movement you made. He felt like it was torture sent to him for the evil he had committed.

But you didn't seem to notice how his eyes darkened the moment he looked at you. You didn't see how his gaze pierced your soul. You just sat down across from him with a sweet smile, handing him his coffee.

"Black without sugar and milk," you said proudly.

"Good girl," he praised you without even looking at the contents of the cup. You could pour him poison and he still wouldn't take his eyes off your face.

Joel noticed how a shadow of shyness passed through your eyes when you gave him a quick glance before taking a sip of your coffee.

"So... how are you?" you asked, starting to eat the cake.

And the next hour passed with you asking him questions and him answering them. For the entire hour he sat watching your lips wrap around the small fork, your tongue licking the coffee that was left on your bottom lip. And for the entire hour, his boxers were soaked.

His cock was leaking as if every word you said was pleasurable to him. His balls were swollen with arousal that couldn't escape. He was like a wild animal trapped in a cage, and before him was a juicy meal.

But eventually you ran out of questions too. An hour was enough for you to know everything that was going on in his life again. An hour was enough for you to eat a few pieces of cake and drink coffee when he had barely touched his first portion.

But you didn't seem to notice that either.

You were blind to the signs that should have let you know something was wrong.

You were blind to his madness.

"Can I use the bathroom?" you asked politely before getting up from the table. Joel just nodded and waited until you disappeared up the stairs before clearing the dishes from the table.

You walked through the hallway towards the bathroom and looking around, you could tell that nothing had changed here. Only more pictures had appeared on the walls. You stopped, looking with a smile at the picture of Sarah and Joel during her graduation. The perfect daughter with the perfect father.

You felt warm looking at the other photos until something caught your attention.

You glanced through the ajar door to Joel's bedroom and frowned noticing the camera standing next to the bed. You wouldn't have been interested if the camera wasn't pointed at something outside the window.

You glanced over your shoulder towards the stairs hearing Joel washing the dishes. You decided to quietly enter the room.

You looked around not noticing anything new. The same furniture and the same bed as before. You went to the window and looked out, noticing yours and his garden. Everything in perfect view.

You glanced at the camera and swallowed hard, realizing that it wasn't aimed at his garden. But you still decided to make sure because maybe you were just telling yourself something that wasn't there.

But when you glanced through the lens, your heart stopped in your throat.

You could now see the deckchair perfectly.

It was lying on which you sometimes lay naked and sometimes...

"Oh my god," you whispered, starting to tremble.

The sudden bang of the door closing almost gave you a heart attack.

You turned around with your eyes wide open and automatically took a step back when you noticed Joel. He leaned against the wall next to the door with a gentle smile.

He had to admit that in some situation you found yourself, he felt a slight amusement. You looked at him with such horror, as if he had at least killed your entire family.

And he was only innocently admiring your beauty.

"I see that there is nothing to hide anymore," he spoke first and bounced off the wall, slowly approaching you.

His step forward equaled your step back.

Until you finally hit the dresser.

"I won't hurt you, you know me," he said calmly, raising his hands a little to show that he had no bad intentions. But your back had long since been drenched in cold sweat and your brain told you to run away.

You glanced towards the door and back at him.

Joel knew immediately what that meant so he sighed quietly. He only had to close his eyes for a second and you were already running towards the exit.

But he was faster.

"Where are you going?" He grabbed you by the waist and easily pulled you to him, locking you in a tight embrace. You squealed, stiffening with fear when he started to surround you from every side.

He buried his face in your neck, inhaling your scent, and shivers ran through your whole body. You panted heavily, looking with fear at the door that was now beyond your reach.

"Easy, baby," he whispered gently, holding you tightly to his chest. But still, you tried.

You jerked.

Once, twice.

But he was stronger.

You tried again, but then a soft groan escaped his throat. You stiffened again, realizing something hard was digging into your ass. And then he pushed his hips towards you, grinding against you. Another moan disappeared into your shoulder and a wave of heat washed over you.

"I won't hurt you, I swear," he said pleadingly and hugged you tighter, once again rubbing against your ass. He couldn't stop his animalistic desire to grab you and possess you.

Maybe if you hadn't gone into his bedroom and found a camera, he would have let you leave.

But now he just couldn't.

He couldn't let you go.

"Joel, please," you cried in response to his next moan.

"I will please you," he assured, slowly sliding his hand down your stomach.

You shivered when he simultaneously tightened his hand on your breast and slid his fingers under your shorts and panties.

He laughed tenderly into your neck, moving lower until his entire hand covered your pussy.

"You shaved for me," he whispered, placing a kiss under your ear.

You pressed your lips together tightly, holding back a sigh. The blood in your veins began to boil from too much stimulation.

His fingers played hard with your soft breast, his lips placed soft kisses along your neck and his fingers collected the moisture that was constantly leaking from you.

Oh yes, you had shaved before coming to him. But you were expecting a different turn of events.

A movie night, a bottle of wine, maybe a little making out on the couch.

You definitely weren't prepared for THIS.

And suddenly his two fingers plunged into you. You shuddered and tightened around him.

"You so wet 'cause of fear?" he asked amused and bit your skin gently, slowly starting to fuck you with his fingers. Fear mixed with arousal that you couldn't fight. His fingers were thick and long and teased your oversensitive walls perfectly.

"Stop," you whispered in a breaking voice.

But just as his signs didn't reach you before, now your pleas didn't reach him.

He was hungry. He was so hungry that all he thought about was sinking his teeth into your flesh. His fingers slowly and skillfully began to cause unwanted effects in your body. Your clit throbbed dangerously and all the heat began to pool in your lower abdomen.

“Shhh, don’t fight me,” he whispered, tightening his arm around your breast.

Your own body betrayed you the moment your hips pushed themselves towards his hand to impale yourself more on his fingers. He immediately withdrew your hips with a quiet laugh of satisfaction. He held his hand tightly on your pubic mound and slowly dipped his fingers inside you.

He was delighted by the way your juices flowed over his skin, finally soaking into your panties. Your insides were soft and warm, making his cock leak at the thought of sinking inside you. Finally, you couldn't hold back a quiet moan as he curled his fingers inside you.

"I found it," he whispered with a wide smile in your ear and repeated the same motion again. Your knees buckled under you but he held you too tightly to let you fall. He buried his nose in your hair and focused on hitting your sweet spot.

You began to thrust your hips in rhythm with his fingers, grinding your ass against him at the same time. His moans began to mix with yours until you came, pressing harder into his chest. Joel rode you through your orgasm until you began to tremble from his touch.

Then he withdrew his soaked fingers from you and didn't mind running them over your clit before removing his hand from your panties.

He ran his nose down your neck, making you shiver. His arms tightened around you again, not giving you the chance to move.

"Don't run away from me," he whispered in a tone that sent cold sweat running down your spine.

You were so delicate, so fragile in his strong arms. He could crush you if he wanted to. He wouldn't even have to try to defeat you. That's why he really didn't want you to force him to do it.

He didn't want to hurt you.

He wanted you both to benefit from the situation that had arisen between you. It could fix everything. You could forget about how you found out about his obsession. You could create something amazing together. Something unique.

“Joel, please,” you whispered tearfully as he started to back away towards the bed. You couldn’t fight him. If you did, he would have easily picked you up and just thrown you where he wanted.

“I know baby,” he murmured, kissing your neck. “We’ll just check if it can fit in, okay?” he asked innocently, earning a sob from you in response. "Yeah, you're such a good girl."

Another sob escaped your throat before he pushed you hard onto the bed. You fell onto the mattress with a gasp and barely lifted your head before you felt him ripping your clothes off you. The cold hit your soaked cunt and you moaned uncontrollably.

You pushed yourself up on your elbows and tried to move away from him, but he grabbed your hips tightly, pulling you closer to him. You howled pulling the sheet behind you and tried again but quickly froze in place when you felt his tongue on your clit.

Joel dipped between your thighs, licking your juices from your entire pussy. He licked every inch, letting you moan and press your face into the mattress. His tongue was big and warm, perfectly covering your entire hole and even better entering it.

You pushed your hips towards him, impaling yourself more on his tongue. A loud moan mixed with wet sounds as he licked your cunt. A second orgasm suddenly erupted in your belly. You whined like an animal, letting him take you all the way to the end. Your hole began to squeeze against his tongue, and he purred in satisfaction.

Drunk with pleasure, you didn't even notice the lack of his touch. And Joel was already unzipping his fly with trembling fingers. He took his cock out with a hiss.

He was hypersensitive even to a slight breath of air. He was furiously red and his veins pulsated along his entire length like mad. His balls ached like never before in his life, begging him to get rid of everything he had inside him.

And seeing your hole, tightening around nothing, took away the last of his control.

He pushed you onto the mattress and immediately pressed his whole body against you. You moaned feeling his weight on you.

"Let me in," he growled hungrily into your ear and only then, slowly positioned his cock at your entrance. He moaned feeling the moisture that had leaked out of you on his tip.

He had to enter you.

He had to.

"No, please," you sobbed, feeling panic take over your body. "I'm not on the pill."

But it was too late.

Joel entered you slowly, moaning loudly as he did so.

“Fuck,” he sobbed, overwhelmed by the feeling of your tight, wet, throbbing pussy wrapped around his cock.

He couldn’t even fight the orgasm that overcame him the moment his hips crashed into your ass. He began to pant heavily, his cock throbbing inside you, releasing more and more of his cum. The pleasure hurt, driving him into a daze.

Your sobs mixed with moans of pleasure. Joel was big. You felt him deep inside you, in places that had long since left your pussy.

When the first orgasm left his body, he looked at you lying limply under him, clenching your fists tightly on the sheets. And his cock was immediately ready to fight for another orgasm.

He pulled his hips back and thrust into you again, leaving you breathless. He slid his hands down your body and grabbed your ass tightly. A throaty groan caressed his ears as he spread your buttocks apart and began to watch his cock sink into your hole. It was all glistening with your juices, which were getting more and more every time you squeezed on him.

"Baby, this is such a beautiful view. Literally takes my breath away," he said in delight, making you whimper.

His cock slowly rubbed against your insides, drawing pleasure like a magnet. Your clit throbbed and your walls tightly embraced his entire length. A few tears soaked into the sheets, because he was too long. He would go all the way in, penetrating you like you were a fuck doll.

And then he would pull out, kissing the tip of your slit with his tip before sliding back in. And so on and so forth until all you did was cry out in pleasure. And as if that wasn't enough, Joel spat between your ass cheeks and began to massage your asshole with his thumb. You shivered at the feeling and he moaned in pleasure as you clenched around him tightly.

"You like it?" he asked with a smile and looked at the side of your face as you whimpered. That was all he could see. But it was enough for him to see the grimace of pleasure. The pleasure he was giving you. He.

This time Joel was savoring you. He slowed down every time he was close to coming. He kept his orgasm in check, afraid that he wouldn't be able to come a third time.

But every time he slowed down, he deprived you of it too. The game he was playing made you sob and cry more hot tears. You were helpless as he brought you to the edge of another orgasm and slowed you down again.

"Please, let me come!" you screamed in frustration. He looked at you in shock, feeling a strange tightening in his chest. And right after that, a proud smile spread across his lips.

"You will come just from my cock?" he asked, astonished.

"Yes!" you cried. "Yes, I will! Please!"

Joel looked at you, delighted by how tender and thirsty you were for his touch. His obsession didn't decrease. Every moan you made, every second he was inside you, every tear you shed, all of it made him want you even more. He was hungry.

So this time he thrust into you without stopping. Your moans mixed with his loud panting as he entered you over and over again. His hips clashed against your ass creating sounds that were mind-blowing.

He was no longer gentle.

He couldn't control himself as you begged for his cock.

As you begged him to bring you to orgasm.

"Yes yes yes," you whimpered, feeling as each of his movements slowly brought you to the very gates of hell. And when you came, Joel heard the most beautiful sound in his entire life and felt the strongest orgasm he had ever had.

Your pussy squeezed his cock tightly as it throbbed, cumming inside you. It froze both you and him, you could only experience the wave of pleasure that flowed through your bodies.

Panting heavily, he looked down at your limp body and experienced a shock, because he finally felt fulfilled. Finally, after so many weeks, he had experienced an orgasm that satisfied him enough. But despite this, his cock was still standing hard, buried deep inside you.

His hand slowly ran down your spine to the nape of your neck, as he slowly bent down, crushing you with his weight. But now it didn't bother you at all, it was actually pleasant. His nose began to run along your neck, cheek and ear, leaving wet kiss marks with his mouth behind it.

"I'll take care of you, I promise," he whispered with something dark in his voice.

And despite your tiredness, you knew you were fucked.

#joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader #dark joel miller #perv Joel miller #obsessive Joel miller #joel miller smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal smut #sanarsi fic

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sweetpascal · 4 months ago

Text

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 !!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #dark!joel miller #dark!joel miller x reader #dark!joel x reader #stepdad!joel x reader #stepdad!joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel miller #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller tlou #joel miller x you #joel miller the last of us #dark!joel fic

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aurorawritestoescape · 13 days ago

Text

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 || more stepdad Joel || 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 || more stepdad Joel || 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

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel miller x f!reader #stepdad!joel #joel miller tlou #tlou hbo #dark!joel miller #tlou fanfiction #tw dubcon #a step into hell fic

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gutsby · 8 months ago

Text

Cabin Fever

Pairing: Dark!Joel x Dark!Reader

Summary: Joel saves your life, but help comes at a price.

Warnings: 18+. DEAD DOVE: DNE. NONCONSENSUAL. I’m never ever beating the insane bitch allegations, I fear. Protector-turned-pervert-turned-unwilling-captor-kinda. Corruption kink. Daddy kink. Somnophilia. Misogyny. “It’s too big; it won’t fit” + Joel “I’ll make it fit” Miller. Captivity on both ends. Oral (f!receiving). Gunplay. Oversimplified first-time anal. Uno Reverse Drugging. Evil, inexperienced reader meets evil, feral, slutty Joel. Attempted murder x3. Russian Roulette…as foreplay?

Notes: Both characters SUCK. I condone nothing they do. Please do not take any of their behavior or language to reflect my own moral predilections. That is all 🚬😵‍💫

You were hardly shaking at all when he’d found you chained, maimed, and frozen half to death on the plains.

He didn’t see that every day, that was for-fucking-sure.

Joel Miller barely got to see his share of happy, grinning girls on the cold and bitter frontier he inhabited. Ones that were tied to posts and clinging to life were even less common, so the sight of you there had almost frightened him at first. He’d approached you like one might advance upon a sleeping bear: with the utmost caution and a Winchester Model 70 levelled directly at your head.

He’d learned you were unarmed and defenseless in less than a second. He’d come to realize you were largely unconscious—and unclothed—even sooner than that.

He had been industrious in freeing your hands and feet from their restraints but never uttered a word as he did.

Even on the two-and-a-half mile trek back home, he hadn’t spoken once. You’d hung off his left shoulder like a pretty, frosted slab of meat, covered only with the sherpa blanket he’d secured around your neck, and dangled precariously down his back for the entire fifty minutes.

Your toes were two shades shy of onyx with frostbite.

Your limbs were hanging like lead over his chest.

A whisper of, ‘You’ll be fine, darlin’, I promise’ had just seemed ill-suited for the circumstances and his nature. In truth, Joel didn’t know if you’d be fine. You might die. The blood wouldn’t be on his hands one way or the other, but he never had liked burying bodies this time of year. He’d have to wait until April to break ground, at least.

Presently, he dropped your limp form to the floor of his cabin and hoped he wouldn’t be needing to bury anyone.

You sort of looked charming in the firelight.

He stomped off to the kitchen and began rifling for pans, preparing to defrost the icy stranger as best he could.

You didn’t die.

You didn’t wake for forty full hours, but you didn’t die.

When you stirred on the floor with warm sherpa around your shoulders and a rough calfskin rug under your ass, you thought you had died—maybe taken a pit stop in cowpoke purgatory while you were at it—but then you blinked. Breathed. Realized you were still very much inside your body and most likely still in Wyoming.

You sat up where you were and looked around.

“Da-a-d?”

You knew it was useless, calling for your father.

He had been dead almost eight months; you just wanted to double-check to make sure you were still on earth.

When dead dad didn’t answer, you tried someone else.

“Momma?”

Still no answer.

Figured, since she was among the ones that had left you chained outside in the first place. It’d been worth a shot.

You started to rise from your place, when a sharp pain in your side made you plop back down on the rug. You winced and lifted the blanket, then your old nightie.

A neat little taped-down bandage had your ribs encased in antiseptics and gauze. You frowned down at a stain in the centre, which looked to you an awful lot like blood. That circle of old fluids must’ve been twice the size of your fist and currently oozing tiny, fresh beads of blood from the strain you’d just exerted. You pursed your lips.

Least they could’ve done is kill me, not leave me here.

You’d take it up with your old would-be assassins another day, you were sure. Right now, you were parched, starving, in dire need of a piss, and reeling on the floor to grab hold of something sturdy to lift yourself. But you were as much a child then as you had ever been, swaying in place and clawing at air like someone who’d never kept their balance before. Or might’ve been drunk.

You rolled onto your good side and cast a sweeping look around the cabin. You smelled slow-cooked barbecue.

Thank fuck, you thought.

Now, if I were a juicy rack of ribs, where would I be?

The kitchen was dark and empty; the smell was coming from elsewhere. You craned your neck, tilted your chin, spotted a loft overhead but figured it wasn’t too likely to find someone grilling up there, so where the hell was it?

And who the hell was it, smoking meats and mending up strangers in the cold and lonely dead of winter like this?

You put a pin in that thought as you searched for a place to pee.

By the time you’d hobbled out of the bathroom, the smoky smell had grown even stronger. It was so pungent it bordered on vertiginous, invading every inch of the cabin with a force. Then it was leading you, teasing you by turns to venture outside. All you had on your feet were some oversized socks and two strips of medical tape.

Against your better judgment, you continued to hobble.

Out the door, down the steps, slowly, then following your nose and the first whiff of smoke you smelled to make it to the place you were almost certain you needed to be.

You trudged around a corner of the cabin’s exterior and stopped. Turned around. Cursed your own senses for being so stupid to miss the huge fucking shed spewing smoke out front—or was it the back?—and plodded on.

Your feet might have carried you a third of the way there before your powers of sight and sound eventually failed you again, and you missed another big something.

Big and beige and coated in snow—baring its teeth and snarling at the unfamiliar presence as soon as it saw you.

The next thing you knew, sixty-two pounds of Belgian Malinois had had you knocked to the ground in less than a second. You hardly understood what had hit you until it was barking and chomping away an inch from your face.

You fought hard and frantic to shove the ugly fucker off, but your bandaged hands were no match for its paws. The dog continued to tear at your blanket, nip at your ears, claw at your neck, and all around snuff out any sense of peace you might have acquired in the dozen-odd minutes since you’d first woken up. You screamed.

You yelled as loud as you could and felt yourself cower and sink lower into the snow as you fought.

Just when you tried to raise a knee—to kick the animal in the ribs or else protect your own—a sound broke out above the buzz.

A voice, clear as day:

“CUJO!”

The dog stalled on top of you a moment, just to be yanked off the next, and the closest thing afterward was a face—kinder than Cujo’s but not by very much.

It was a broad, bearded, pock-marked head with more soot to recommend itself than skin. Lips smeared with ash and grime and curved down in the single most decisive frown you’d seen in your life, the man looked to be beside himself seeing you tits up in the snow.

He gripped one arm of yours, then dropped it.

Picked a leg up, paused, then hauled you into a cradle carry as graceless as you’d ever felt it done before.

“Come!” he snapped, and it took you too long to realize that he was talking to the dog. You’d already wrapped your arms around his neck in abrupt complaisance.

He carried you back into the cabin and kicked the door open in front of you. He held you firm for a second, then, just as he had outside, changed course before you knew what to do and was shortly depositing you on the sofa.

You winced when your ass hit the cushion.

You started to sit, grab a pillow for your back or just bring your knees to your chest, when suddenly a palm was pressing flat on your front. Forcing you to lie down.

“Hey, hey!” you cried when the man started lifting the hem of your nightgown.

If he’d heard you at all, he didn’t show it. He just worked his thick, dirty fingers under the fabric and raised the white satin like he might the hood of a car. He frowned.

It was then that you noticed a blooming red splotch on your side, slowly overtaking the terra-cotta color of dried blood on the bandage and spreading out. Then a pain.

Instead of pushing the man’s hands away, you were holding them tight, wrestling that same touch which was trying to keep you from poking around the area now.

“Quit,” the man said, sedate as could be.

“Hurts,” was all you could think to tell him—and you guessed he’d already had that part down by the outpouring of blood. He shoved your hands off.

The brand new crimson hue had already soaked through the bandage. He pulled it off. You caught a glimpse of a wound that seemed to be weeping through its stitches—oozing pus and blood and a gore you could’ve gone your whole life without seeing. You would’ve liked to run a couple gentle, awed fingers over it, but as it was, your coarse and tight-lipped medic wouldn’t let you.

“Hold still,” he commanded.

“Heystopstopstop!” you implored him, feeling a streak of pain up your side as his calloused hands delved deeper.

At your latest flinch and plea, the man seemed to have had enough. Or just needed to angle your body in a different direction for easier access to the site. He gathered you back up in his arms and walked over to the kitchen, where he set you down again on the counter. Hands moved to your hips, briefly, to push you back on the surface and allow him to stand between your legs. Again, the man frowned as he peeled off your pyjamas.

Two warring fears of pain and overexposure fought like wild beasts in your brain for a second—you yelping and trying to cover your breasts in a hurry, then realizing how much it hurt to lift your arms that way when your ribs were dripping blood, then the man making the decision for you both as he pushed your hands behind your back and said a simple ‘Fuck’s sake’ to keep you pinned.

You didn’t like it.

You didn’t like it, and you let him continue, because you knew that you didn’t know shit about doing this yourself.

Joel must’ve fixed your dressings fourteen times before turning you loose. He’d had you perched atop his counter like goddamned Prisoner-of-War Barbie, all riddled with bumps, bruises, and lesions galore, looked your body up and down just once, and nearly grew sick at the sight.

He’d disgusted himself by feeling as aroused as he was.

Shortly thereafter, he’d toted you off—before the blood could rush down to his dick and start to swell—shrugged your gown over your torso, and stepped away. Simple.

Then you’d had to go and throw a wrench in his plans.

“What if I need to pee?” you’d said as soon as Joel started up the stairs with you in his arms again.

He had meant to drop you off on the bed in the loft, out of sight, but it seemed you were more concerned about the prospect of traversing the steps up and down for potty breaks. Joel had audibly huffed above you.

“I can leave a bucket.”

“Yu-uck.” The latter word had been given two syllables to show the full extent of your disgust, like a child might do.

And that was how you’d ended up here: snug in his bed on the ground floor, curled up in more layers of flannel and wool than you could count and staring blankly up at the man who was standing cold and aloof off to the side.

Your eyelids were growing heavy with sleep.

He figured they would be.

Joel picked up the glass that sat beside your empty one on the nightstand and drank, watching you all the while.

“D’you know my momma?” you asked, voice sounding extra small coming from the depths of your cocoon.

Joel finished his drink in four big gulps.

“Sure hope not,” he said once he’d set it back down.

By the sight of the scars he’d found littering your hands and back alone, Joel was able to surmise you’d come from a pretty rough, ragtag group. Maybe even Raiders. Knowing folks like that simply never struck one’s fancy, so he’d been honest. You might’ve argued, or laughed, if you hadn’t been nabbed so tightly in the grips of those first stages preceding sleep, so instead, you nodded.

“Figured,” you mumbled.

7:11, Joel read on the clock. You’d finished your drink at seven, or somewhere thereabouts. Judging by your size, it wouldn’t take long at all for the medicine to take effect.

‘Medicine,’ Joel thought, sounded a whole hell of a lot better than ‘drugs.’ One was meant to rehabilitate, rejuvenate, bring new life to your worn and weary bones. The other would just knock you cold and keep you there.

On second thought, those were definitely drugs Joel had just slipped in your water before giving it to you to drink.

As your eyes blinked from closed, to open, to closed, then open but slightly less open than the time before, and closed again, he felt a sick sense of accomplishment twist in his gut. If only his former-nurse friend could have seen what he was doing with those morphine sulfate tablets he’d traded for—he likely would’ve slapped Joel across the face. And Joel would’ve smiled all the same.

Yeah, okay, drugging the unsuspecting and defenseless female he’d just saved from death’s doorstep two days ago didn’t look great on paper, he would fully concede.

But this was all in good fun.

Great fun, even.

For him.

“Sick fuck,” Joel muttered as he started to undo his belt. The button and zip were taken apart just as fast, and with two steps, he was standing at your bedside—his bedside—and tugging his trousers down his legs. He took his cock in his hand and glanced over at the clock.

7:15.

He nudged your shoulder.

7:16.

Peeling layers of blanket away from your body.

7:17.

“Hey…honey?”

A lot more nothing from the girl sleeping in front of him. He shrugged his jeans to the floor, kicked them off at his feet, and moved onto the bed. You just looked so sweet.

Joel tried working around the fabric of his boxers but got impatient pretty quick. He hauled those off, too.

Soon, his beefy, bare, and surprisingly tan legs were bracketing your hips as he stroked himself above you. His eyes roamed the lax and tranquil features undeniably characteristic of sleep, and he pumped himself faster. Really, there was no need for theatrics or enhancements now—he was already hard as three tonnes of steel—but Joel would be lying if he said he didn’t like the build-up.

You were no longer in danger of dying, thanks to him. You were slowly but surely on the mend, no thanks to Cujo at all, but many thanks to him, Joel Miller, the man who had pried you off of that post, pulled you out of your chains, ushered warmth back into your limbs, and stitched up your side out of the goodness of his heart.

Any objective onlooker could see that you’d availed yourself of his medical attention and aid without ever asking, so why should he request access to you now? This was the way of the world these days, anyway. Sex was no longer so much a question as it was an answer in most scenarios—a mere transaction, wherein the physically weaker of two parties was forced to capitulate. Not within the four unsullied walls of Jackson and a few other pockets of homestead communities here and there, but on the whole, absolutely. Jackson was down the road a ways away and sufficiently far enough from Joel’s cabin for him to be disentangled from their rules. What mattered now was obtaining what he was owed.

Still, the man hesitated a half-second longer above you. He jerked his cock even faster and felt his stomach start to clench. Was that? No—nerves were fucking juvenile. Getting close to cumming from just the sight of you alone was for chumps. Joel Miller was no chump.

He lifted your nightie and lowered the head of his cock to rest between your folds. Then he shifted his knees so that he could rub himself gently against your warmth.

Joel Miller was a monster, but he was no brute. He also understood female anatomy well enough to know that, well…wetter was better. He started moving his hips.

You exhaled through your nose. Nothing major; you probably hadn’t even felt him long enough to whine.

Joel planted a hand beside your head—a preemptive warning.

“There…” He liked to talk as though you could hear him. Like you might be semi-conscious and dimly aware of what he was doing to you then, “Right there…ah, baby.”

He never did catch your name.

That was no matter. So long as you stayed put and made a nice, wet, pretty little hole for him to fuck, you would be fine. By the feel of your folds alone, he could tell you’d be a fun thing to use. Soft and snug and plied with drugs, you could do, and be, anything he damn well needed.

Or maybe nothing at all, he thought without humor.

Joel brushed your cheek with the knuckles of his free hand and watched you turn away, making a face. He snagged your chin and tilted it back to him, sharply, before gliding those fingers down your chest, then your tummy, then your hips, then dipping between your legs. He found your clit and pressed it with a deliberate touch.

“Hey,” Joel whispered, again, as though you might hear, “You’re gonna stay still and let me do this.”

Your nose scrunched in response, thighs clamping together. Joel pried them apart with one push and continued sliding his cock back and forth. He grunted.

“Gonna let me take what’s mine, hear?”

You didn’t hear much of anything, he suspected, but he asked the question all the same. At least now your legs were staying open and he could rut himself gently into that space without having to keep them spread. A first, gentle ‘mmph’ sounded from your lips, and he was glad. He kept thumbing that spot he knew you would like and rubbing along the seam of your cunt with his erection.

Then Joel felt a weight on his shoulders. Remorse? No. Anxiety? Perhaps. This felt more like a fog, though, seizing his muscles and seeping gently between the grooves of his brain. He gave his head a fierce shake.

“Hold still,” he said, more to himself; you hadn’t moved.

Joel fisted the base of his cock and angled the tip toward your entrance, caring much less whether you were ready or not now that his desires had grown stronger.

He was met with resistance on trying to push in. He dug his fingers in the pillow beneath your head and scowled.

“Quit…clenchin’…like that. Ain’t…fair to me,” he huffed.

He was one to talk.

Now, he’d been with a staggering number of women, experiences ranging all across the spectrum, but even the tightest, most untouched pieces of ass he’d ever tapped had given way more than this. Your walls were unyielding, refusing to give him entry. Joel cursed and rutted his hips in a rough, entirely unsuccessful, thrust.

You hummed in response, eyes still closed, one hand fumbling mindlessly for something to hold. Joel seized it.

“Not lettin’ you off that easy, darlin’, I—”

“Fuck,” you breathed, followed by a low whimper.

Joel froze. Had you heard him? Felt him just now?

Something about the uncertainty laden in those questions sent his mind into overdrive, heart beating a wild cadence in his chest. He realized then that his mouth had gone dry, his vision was skewed just slightly on the outskirts. And his cock was throbbing.

“Ya like that?” Joel seethed, not thinking, still rubbing, “Like givin’ daddy a hard time before lettin’ him in?”

“Uh-huh.” Softly.

You little slut. He knew it all along.

Whatever it was that kept your body from being coupled with his was almost immaterial to him now. Joel’s mind was swimming with desire, cock dragging in desperate, fitful bursts between your legs, never penetrating but still wringing massive jolts of pleasure from that place.

With the way he was feeling now, Joel could cum from just fucking your thighs. And that was alright.

You were moaning underneath him. Even…smiling?

“Fuck, baby, you look so pretty.”

Joel had never called a girl pretty before and meant it. But he hardly knew how else to describe you now with how good and sweet and fine you were making him feel. A strange warmth sank into his chest, making it harder to breathe, and then he was panting above you, as if he were really inside that dripping wet spot. He was close.

“Such a pretty…sweet…fuckin’ thing for me.”

That red, raging, leaky cock of his was almost a blur between your legs, he was thrusting against you so fast. Joel thought for one frightening second that it might be his skull that would explode instead, so high was that pressure between his ears, but his fears were promptly put to rest as the first rope of cum came stuttering out. Then another. Then another. Then another.

By the time he finished, he could’ve sworn he’d left a hundred spurts on your tummy. When Joel glanced down and saw a sea of opaque, sticky white, he groaned.

Then he fell. Fully collapsed at your side with his brain in a tizzy of wild, heady feelings and sank into himself.

He hadn’t even fucked you, and he felt like he had.

He lifted a hand to wipe away his spend, but he couldn’t.

He would get to it in the morning, before you stirred, he thought. He thought. He didn’t have the chance to think much longer at all, as darkness started hedging him in.

He slept.

It was 7:57 when he woke.

The man had no real way of knowing that, though, seeing as he was greeted with a nickel-plated revolver between his teeth the second he opened his eyes.

You were straddling his torso, gun pinched between two calm, bandaged hands. You frowned when he jumped.

“WH—” he started.

“Shut up.”

“ST—”

“I said shut,” you cocked the gun, holding it tighter, then shoving it even further inside his mouth, “the fuck. up.”

The man obeyed.

‘Joel M.’—you’d read the name etched on the butt of his pistol before picking it up some twenty minutes ago.

“Pretty fuckin’ thing,” you mocked the man’s Texan drawl as you wiggled the barrel even deeper along his tongue, “Like givin’ daddy a hard time before lettin’ him in?”

The man’s eyes widened.

How dumb did he think you were?

Offering a semi-clear liquid that should’ve been water; he hadn’t even waited for the morphine tablet to fully dissolve before handing it over to you. Fucking idiot.

You were more disturbed by the fact he’d thought you stupid enough not to notice than him actually trying to drug you. The latter was almost to be expected from predatory, execrable men like him, but the insult to your intelligence? Unacceptable. You’d remedied that affront fairly quickly, though, swapping his glass with yours the second he hadn’t been looking, then nestling into his bed and playing pretend for what had felt like an eternity.

You’d been awake the whole time the man touched you, not knowing what the hell was going on but feeling like you had to stay still. Let him finish. Out of fear, at first, then curiosity, then some strange and unfamiliar sensation that you couldn’t quite describe as anything but a pleasurable itch between your legs. You let the man continue, hearing him grunt and groan and swear up a storm before he shot something hot all over your tummy. By the end of it all, you knew it was wrong, and you knew it was dirty—though you weren’t sure exactly what it was that he had done—but you wanted to learn more.

Which was probably why you hadn’t just shot the old pervert right between his eyes the second he’d stirred.

You shifted atop this ‘Joel M.’ and frowned once more.

“Why’d you stop?”

Gun still wedged in his mouth, Joel’s voice sounded garbled as he spoke, “Wha-agh-at?”

You retracted the metal just long enough to pose the question again. When you had, he still looked stunned.

“Answer me,” you barked, and feeling your patience lapse, got straight to pistol-whipping the motherfucker upside his half-grey head, “You DUMB, or somethin’?”

The man sputtered again.

“No, no— I don’t— dunno what you mean.”

He sounded dumb. You would need to spell this out.

“Why did you stop rubbing me like that?”

If anything, the clarification only seemed to baffle him further. He opened his taut, bearded mouth, then closed it, then eyed you up and down with a look that said he was considering something. Then he stared at one spot.

You glanced down at it too.

“And what is this, anyway?” you asked, swiping one finger at the mostly dried moisture on your stomach, “Why’d you spit this stuff up all over me, huh?!”

“I ain’t—”

You raised the gun as if to hit him again. He jolted back.

“I didn’t mean— shit. Shit, I just…came on you, ‘s’all.”

“Came?”

The word hung in the air like a grenade, waiting. Mr. M was already bracing himself for the impact, it seemed.

“Came?!”

That bracing served him well, because in the next second you were lifting the weapon even higher and eyeing him with the most pointed, putrid look of disdain. You’d never been one for letting grenades go untouched.

“Ejaculated!” Joel hissed, lifting a hand to shield himself, “Felt— felt so good I just couldn’t stop and I-I-I came.”

You paused.

Came. Felt good. Couldn’t stop.

You had felt good when he’d rubbed you. You had not wanted him to stop. But then he had. And you were mad. You’d never been touched that way in your life, and now you were feeling fifteen hundred emotions at once.

Were you supposed to ‘come,’ too? Why did he stop?

“Why didn’t you let me…ejaculate, too?” The words felt foreign and strange on your tongue.

For the first time, you saw one side of Joel’s lips twitch. Evidently fighting the urge to turn them into a smile.

“Girls don’t really…do that,” he said. Then, after a beat, “Why? Ain’t ever had your pussy rubbed on by a man?”

You shortly landed the blow you’d been holding over his head, splitting the skin along his brow with one hit from the butt of his gun. Joel jumped again, then moaned.

“Crazy bitch!”

“Creepy fuck.”

Your eyes narrowed with loathing, unable to comprehend how a man so vile had just made you feel so good. Your stomach was twisting in knots while Joel rubbed his forehead, pawing helplessly at the gash you’d just left.

“I saved your life,” he grumbled, low, “You owed me.”

“Did I?”

Abruptly, and without really thinking, you were sinking the muzzle of the gun into the spot you’d just cut, mouth kicking up in a smile at the sounds of pain it elicited.

“Did I, Joel?” you cooed.

“How the— the fuck do you know my name?”

Momentarily, you yanked the revolver from his face and tilted it to show him his name carved into the bottom.

“What’s the ‘M’ stand for? ‘Molester’?”

“Means ‘mind’ your fucking business,” he spat.

You probably would’ve hit him again had it not seemed as though he were trying to sit up just then. You slid swiftly from his frame—just to take a step off the bed, gun still pointed at his head. Then you backed away.

One by one, rapidly, you unloaded the bullets from the cylinder, maintaining a safe distance from the man all the while. You watched him blink and try to get some thing from his eyes, but he didn’t seem keen to move.

You left just one live round inside. You made a point to spin the cylinder and, again, aim it straight at his head.

The man was blinking even harder. Rubbing now, too.

“I feel…” Joel murmured.

“Drugged?” you returned, “Yeah, that must suck.”

A set of wide, irate, and horrified eyes met yours. His mouth hung open in a stupid look of shock. Trying to piece the last bits of this fucked up jigsaw puzzle together and growing angrier by the second.

“You fuckin’—”

Joel’s words were cut short by the weight of your body barreling back over his. Graceless, you imagined, but still nothing close to something you cared about now. You planted your knees on either side of his ribs and grazed the tip of the six-shooter down the length of his nose.

“Tell me,” you said, “How’d you make it feel so good?”

Your hips twisted for effect, jostling the man’s own parts beneath yours and clearly causing some effect in him. The muscles in his jaw jumped up as he gritted his teeth.

“You know damn well, slut,” Joel griped.

Without another thought, you squeezed the trigger.

Click.

The man’s whole body lurched underneath you. Trembling with the realization that you’d left just one lone bullet for him—and he didn’t know which chamber.

As far as foreplay went, Russian Roulette was probably a first, even for a man as wanton and depraved as Joel. You smiled sweetly and made another gyration with your lower half, which prompted him to grip you. Tight.

“What? Ya want me to fuck you, is that it?” he growled.

“I thought it wouldn’t fit.”

“I’ll make it fit.”

“How?”

Try as you might to conceal it, your gaze likely betrayed a hint of sincerity as you made that last inquiry. Joel’s eyes flickered between yours, searching for something there, and just when those glossy brown irises had found it, they stopped. Blinked. He shook his head, incredulous.

“My mind ain’t…right,” he said, slowly, “But I— I know you know what I mean by that, sweet pea.”

Something in your tummy fluttered at the sound. You gripped the pistol tighter to get rid of the feeling.

“I don’t,” you answered.

Again, Joel was stumped. For the first time, though, there appeared to be some sympathy behind his eyes. Or stupidity. Or just a shit ton of morphine coursing through his veins as he tried to make sense of this situation.

As if to confirm an idea in his drug-addled brain, he lowered a hand between your legs and hovered there a second. He watched you; you watched back but didn’t move.

Then slowly, almost clinically, Joel slipped two fingers underneath you and found a soft, pulsing warmth—far wetter than the last time he’d touched down there. When he pulled his hand away, both fingers and half of his palm were glistening with a fluid. You let out a startled cry at the sight of it and nearly dropped your gun.

“What is that?!”

Joel looked to you, equally awed—for different reasons.

“What do you mean?”

“Why’s it all…sticky?”

You couldn’t even try to hide your horror at the thought of that weird, syrupy stuff leaking out of you. It was strange enough feeling it come out of a freak like Joel, but from your own body? He had to be fucking joking.

“It’s normal.”

“Like hell it is— you— STOP!” The last fragment of your sentence was swallowed by a scream, leaping back when Joel moved his fingers toward your face.

“What? You’ve never seen this?” He sounded like he was teasing. You could shoot him for how smug he sounded.

In very small amounts, you’d seen stuff. Blood every month. Bits and pieces of bodily secretions that, to you, had always seemed gross. But never this. Never big, sticky globs of…whatever the fuck this was. You continued to back away on the bed, gun still tipped toward Joel but now trying to put some distance between your bodies. You didn’t know how else to act.

You did know you wanted to scream when Joel stuck his fingers in his mouth. Bile might’ve jumped in your throat.

He sucked the dew clean off the digits, then wriggled them to show what he’d done. You felt the urge to vomit.

“That came from— from— why are you eating it?!”

Joel grinned. Big.

You weren’t sure why, but he looked psyched to be alive in that moment, and not just because of the narcotics.

Before you knew what was happening, he’d pushed you flat on your back, hips pinned underneath his hands as he moved over your body. He didn’t even try for the gun.

“And here I was thinkin’ you were just fuckin’ with me,” he chuckled, palms sliding under your nightdress. When you felt the residuum of wetness from his spit and your slick stuck together on his fingers, you wanted to squeal.

But you didn’t. You tried propping yourself up on elbows until Joel was sliding your one and only article of clothing over your head, then beckoning you down on the bed in front of him. You watched his gaze flit down to your side.

“Still hurt?” he murmured, tracing over the bandage.

You shook your head no, though it did, a little. At the moment, it seemed the pain was the furthest thing from your mind as you saw Joel slide down your body and try to take up residence between your thighs—with his face planted right there. You kicked his shoulder in protest.

“Quit!” you cried, pulling your legs up to your chest.

“You quit,” Joel returned, yanking them back.

Then you felt you had no choice but to brandish the gun, taking the thing between two palms while you pointed it again—as if he needed the reminder.

“Fine. Why don’t you keep that thing aimed at my head while I give you some?” he muttered. The subsequent ‘See if I give a shit’ was silent.

“Give me some what?”

“Head.”

Head. You’d never heard something phrased that way. Joel’s head was down there, sure, practically grinning from ear to ear as he hooked your legs over his shoulders, but certainly he didn’t mean to do a thing as drastic and dirty as—

“JOEL!”

“Hm?” His voice was muffled by your thighs.

You tried to shy away, but he held you down.

“Joel, I— I pee out of there,” you hissed, “Why the fuck would you wanna put your mouth on that?”

As if your groans of disgust and vehement attempts to get away weren’t enough to deter him, you watched Joel’s tongue dart between his lips and down to yours. The sick fuck was actually licking your folds, tracing the tip across that warm, sticky place and moaning into your skin. Holding you tighter when you pleaded for him to stop. Then, with the hand that wasn’t prying your legs apart, he reached down and started stroking his cock.

Again, it felt dirty and wrong. Beyond the fact that this man was a perfect stranger and easily decades your senior, you were repulsed by the sight of his lips and his tongue and his spit mixing up in that messy, wet place you still didn’t quite understand yourself. You didn’t know much about your body, but it had never once occurred to you to be kissed down there. Joel was roaming every contour and crevice with his tongue like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he liked it.

“I hate it,” you whined, feebly.

You knew you could’ve easily blown the man’s brains out, but some small part of you was still plagued by curiosity. ‘Hate’ was just the first word that came to mind when you were faced with something that made you scared.

“It’s weird,” you tried again. This time pressing the gun to the top of his bobbing head while you grit your teeth, “And wrong.”

At that, Joel stopped.

His eyes flickered to yours, all glass-like and hooded.

“Why? Practically lickin’ ya clean here,” he said, starting to grin to himself as his words came slightly slurred, “There’s nothin’ wrong about this, sweet pea.”

You felt something flutter between you. He felt it, too.

“Like when I call ya that? ‘Sweet pea’?” he said, pausing to flick his tongue over the spot that had just stirred at his words. He watched you fight back a whimper.

“No,” you choked. You pinched your eyes shut, unsure whether it was pleasure or pure revulsion overtaking you—or both.

Suddenly, you felt Joel’s hand smooth over your thigh, still warm from when he’d been stroking himself below. He placed an affectionate kiss to your belly and grinned.

“Is that what this is? Feel guilty about feelin’ this good?” he murmured, “Think it’s…dirty, what we’re doin’?”

At length, and just barely visible to him, you nodded.

“It is dirty,” you corrected him quietly.

Then you saw that stupid pseudo-sympathetic smirk tug at the corners of his lips, and just when you thought he might nudge his way back up your body—to do what, you weren’t sure—he sank between your legs. This time, he made sure to hold your gaze as he re-assumed the position. His palm continued to rub at your thigh, as if to distract you from the rough brush of his stubble or the fact that his mouth was hovering so dangerously close.

“Sweet pea,” he rasped, “Ain’t nothin’ dirty about this.”

As if to punctuate his words, Joel dragged his lips down your slit to press a kiss to your centre, eyes never leaving yours.

“Not here…”

He pointed with his tongue, moving it deftly between your folds. You gripped the sheets, trying to ignore the pleasure that the simple act wrought through your body.

“Not here.”

He kissed your clit. You squeezed even tighter.

“Not on my tongue, on my fingers, anywhere, y’hear?”

You were about to answer—maybe tell him he was supremely full of shit, then flash the gun in his face—when Joel shifted onto his knees on the bed. He moved slowly and as calm as he ever had, motions languid while his mind was likely steeped in the morphine by now. He snagged one of your ankles. He slid his hand up the back of your calf and tugged you down to the edge of the bed. Then he stood up, right between your legs. The warmth radiating from his bare lower half was immediate, almost suffocating from where you lay. You didn’t like it at all.

You refused to meet his gaze, grip tightening on the gun.

“Joel…”

When that warmth at your front shifted inward, though, you hardly had a say in what your reflexes did or didn’t do. You jumped when you felt the head of his dick slip past your pulsing core, closer to the other hole below it.

“Not here, either,” Joel continued, grin still evident from his tone.

Before you could even think to ask what he meant to do ‘here,’ Joel moved one of your legs up, tilting your hips, and pushed ahead with just the tip of his cock. Not breaching it fully, but nudging—prodding at that hole.

For the first time, you let out a moan.

You hastily clamped a hand over your mouth to stifle it.

“Aw, honey,” Joel murmured, “Did that feel good?”

His words reeked of condescension. You scowled at the ceiling.

“No.”

You felt him push a little further—this time making the head of his dick notch into that tight ring of muscles.

No, the word rang through your skull once more. Your curiosity was shortly supplanted by disgust—how the fuck could you let this creepy old man, this stranger, press into you like that? Talk to you like you were dumb? You seized hold of Joel’s pistol with both hands and aimed directly for his chest.

“Stop doing that,” you growled. When the man’s grip on your leg only tightened and you couldn’t writhe away, you lifted the other and tried kicking him in the gut. Of course, Joel caught your foot midair, and it never landed.

“Just givin’ ya options, darlin’,” he said, easy-going. Not seeming to care about the firearm pointed his way.

Fuck it.

You squeezed the trigger again.

Empty chamber.

If Joel flinched, you didn’t see it. He did, however, knock the gun right out of your hand the next second, sending it tumbling with an unceremonious thump on the bed behind you. You tried to leap back for it, but your arm was quickly pinned. Joel cocked one silver-flecked brow.

“You done?” he asked, almost bored.

Your last—and only—leverage taken away from you, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of anger. And desperation.

“I don’t wanna do this,” you cried, trying to squirm away.

Joel didn’t move his cock, but he did hold you still. Blinking with indifference and a fair bit of drug-induced dissociation, it seemed, from the far-away look in his eyes. He pushed both of your legs so they were folded up to your chest, and ignored your whimpers when he did. At length, he pulled out just enough to smear some of your wetness down to the hole he was trying to fuck.

“You want this,” he countered gently.

“I DON’T!”

Joel continued as though he hadn’t heard you, and moments later, you sensed another slick something pooling against you. From your position beneath him, you could see a bead of spit slip from Joel’s mouth and stretch into a thin, glistening string all the way down to the space between your thighs. You watched him rub the saliva in with his fingers, almost meticulous as he did it.

Then he eased his hips forward an inch, wedging himself back in your ass. He groaned when he felt resistance—and a sharp clench of your muscles.

“I can teach ya…show ya everything…there is to know.”

His words somehow made it out through ragged breaths. That broad, tan chest was heaving with every labored pull of his lungs, and you could tell he was feeling good.

You might’ve been able to say the same for yourself, were your mind not singly occupied by the desire to escape. Still at war with yourself, wondering how it would feel or what you might see that first time, all the while despising the man who seemed hell-bent on forcing it.

He might’ve saved your life, but there was no fucking way he’d get to use you like that and stay breathing.

You were raised better than that.

You could do better than anything this man had to offer.

You resolved to kill him as soon as the drugs knocked him out—just like you’d had planned from the second you woke up on the floor of his cabin that afternoon.

Of course being chained, maimed, and frozen half to death on the plains for some well-meaning stranger to find you had always been part of your mother’s—and the rest of the Raiders’—grand plan. Having this stupid, horny sap take you into his home with the hope of claiming you as his own was just the icing on top.

Now you had a reason to kill Joel and steal all his shit.

At present, he fed another inch of himself inside you and grinned when you let out a startled cry.

“Atta girl,” he said, smirking, “Feelin’ okay?”

“Fuck you.”

“Will do.”

Then, as if to prove a point, he bottomed out, sheathing his cock to the hilt in spite of your cries. Your hands fisted the sheets, and you tried to pull off. It didn’t work.

In fact, all it accomplished was giving Joel more room to thrust back into you. And pull out. And shove back in. The snap of his hips was like cruel and excruciating clockwork, completely unhindered by your words or your gestures or your pleas to stop fucking doing that Joel, it fucking hurts! If anything, the sounds of your censure only got him harder, and with it, made it that much easier to fuck you rougher. His eyes shone with pride.

“What’s’at, sweet pea?” he hummed, strokes coming into a steady pace.

“It’s too…big…doesn’t fit,” you whimpered.

In response, Joel glanced down to see the spot where your bodies were joined. He pushed even deeper.

“Yeah?” he said when you yelped, “I think it fits just fine.”

Motherfucker, you wanted to wail, but then your neck craned sideways—your mouth trying to find purchase in anything you might grit between your teeth—and the only thing that escaped your throat was a sob. You tried burying your face in the comforter, only for Joel to yank it back.

Cupping your chin and pinching both your cheeks in a single, punishing squeeze as he continued to fuck you, “What’s the matter, darlin’? Too much?”

You groaned and clenched your jaw, head jerking away.

Per usual, Joel was undeterred. Even smiled.

“My pretty girl need somethin’a bite, huh?” he hummed.

He probably knew you wouldn’t nod, so he went ahead and decided to oblige that one need he saw anyway. Snagging your nightie, Joel raised a hand to your face and proceeded to push the fabric inside your mouth.

Just as he started to lift his hips to deliver another thrust, he had to stop. A sudden, sharp ‘FUCK!’ left his mouth, then a groan, and his hand retreated fast.

You’d bitten him.

You were grinning just a little, and you’d bitten him.

Joel promptly slapped you across the face. If you weren’t so fucking amused by the sight of his bright red fingers, you just might’ve winced. Instead, the smile stayed on your lips, the slap barely registered, and, to your utmost disbelief, something else had just then started to form.

Pleasure, in the pit of your stomach.

“Fuckin’—” Joel snarled.

“Shit,” you finished, eyes rolling back.

You couldn’t help it. Joel was rutting into you relentlessly. That brief hand bite detour had only stoked the flames of his hatred—and arousal—and now he was practically splitting you in half with the force of his thrusts. He slapped you once more for good measure.

“Oh, that you fuckin’ like?” he seethed, cheeks flushed, “Can’t get off with my…tongue on your cunt, but a slap— and my cock buried deep in your ass gets the job done?”

“Uh-huh,” you answered softly. Mindlessly.

Really, there were no two people more fucked up than you in this moment, you thought. Joel growing harder with each desperate objection of yours, you going all soft and hot and bothered the second he slapped your face and fucked you rougher, and together, the two of you letting out grunts and moans of pleasure while the bed shook like an earthquake just shy of a 9.5 on the Richter scale. Were you not already planning to slit the man’s throat after all of this was over, you just might’ve wanted to marry this Joel M for how wonderfully he fucked you.

You let him know as much when you seized his forearms.

Bouncing into his thrusts, you bit your lip and finally met his gaze. Joel’s eyes were trained in somewhat of a daze, pupils all but swallowing his irises as he fucked you.

“Like being daddy’s little cocksleeve, huh?”

Only the sentence was slurred so bad you could scarcely make out half the words. You nodded just the same.

“Like it when he fucks you in the ass?” Joel panted.

You nodded again.

That pleasure in your belly had worked its way up to a full swell—and whatever it was, you couldn’t bear the thought of losing it now. You gripped Joel’s arms even harder as his chest swayed into you, then sank further and further until your fronts were pressed flush to each other and your ankles were hooked tight around his back.

It almost felt intimate. That coarse, weathered, sweat-coated face spattered with patches of grey seemed to you nearly handsome as his lips hung limply in an ‘o.’

Joel’s cock dragged back and forth between your walls at this new, snug angle, and moans fell out of you both.

“Baby.” His voice was hoarse. Strained.

You couldn’t quite make sense of the expression above you, but there was an unmistakable, muted desperation lurking somewhere beneath it. Joel rutted into you quicker, balls leaving rapid smacks against your ass with every thrust. His hair was disheveled, and his hands were making fists in the sheets on either side of your head.

“Joel—”

“Jus’ lemme use you.”

Words so low they were barely audible as he panted.

“But—”

“Daddy’s…almost done, sweet pea. Just take it.”

You were surprised he’d had it within himself to be so soft. A peculiar sort of haze hung over his face, the pace of his hips picked up even more, and suddenly those plush pink lips were hovering a mere hair’s breadth away from yours. Mumbling. Rambling on and on about how wet you were, how perfect you fit him, how nice and sweet and tight your body felt as he fucked you stupid.

That sensation in your own stomach grew even stronger.

Unsure of what to do, you pressed a palm to his chest.

“Joel, I…I feel funny,” you whispered.

Joel hummed. Didn’t slow.

“I know.”

He knew?

“What’s it—ah, fuck.” Your words broke off in a whimper.

Instead of proffering a verbal response, Joel just slipped a touch between your bodies—thumbing sloppily between your folds to earn a couple more high-pitched moans. Your legs tightened around his middle.

“Joel, s-stop!”

It felt so good it almost hurt. He didn’t stop.

“S’just an orgasm, baby,” Joel panted, “You’re okay.”

And, in spite of his own impending climax and the effect of the drugs likely reaching a fever pitch inside him, Joel managed to slide his other hand beneath the back of your head. Cradled you to him while he fucked you into the bed and made you come unraveled with his touch. You tried to writhe away, but he was used to the drill by now—he just fucked you harder and rubbed you faster.

Whatever he wanted would come soon. You doubted there was anything you could do to stop it, but you tried.

Without thinking, you grabbed hold of the damp locks of hair at the nape of his neck and yanked on them hard.

“Joel, I can’t— I can’t,” you keened.

The hand at the back of your head held you firm.

“You can,” Joel returned, tough but surprisingly calm, “Give it to daddy, ‘s’all ya gotta do.”

What exactly ‘it’ was was still unclear. You just knew you felt good and warm and full—about ready to burst. When you felt tempted to give his hair another tug, Joel’s eyes met yours, and they were soft. Insistent, still, but soft.

Dilated as all hell and probably swimming in clouds of a delirious, bleary haze, but always soft. Almost tender.

“Be a good girl and give it to daddy,” Joel slurred, slow, “C’mon, sweet pea…cum for daddy, please.”

For the first time in that short, rough, utterly deranged time you had known this man, he was begging you. Pleading with you, now, as his body grew overwrought with pleasure and just needed release. You needed it, too, not even knowing how you would get it, but the force of his thrusts, the warmth of his body, the look in those warm, bare, powerless eyes—you fucking loved whatever it was that could make a man like that so weak.

You had to strike while the iron was hot. You slid back.

Joel didn’t notice, too focused on your face and the feel of your body to see when you’d reached for the gun.

Just as you took hold of it, a jolt of pleasure tore through you. Your heels dug into his back, and you nearly lost control of the pistol. Joel groaned in your mouth, begged you once again to cum all over this cock, make a fuckin’ mess of it, baby, please, and you could only whine, grip the metal tighter, and raise it slowly to the side of his head while he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

The peak of your pleasure had come into view. You felt it.

You nudged the muzzle through those soft, slick, salt-and-pepper shaded tufts of hair near the edge of his temple right when the first throes of euphoria seized you.

“FUCK!”

You squeezed the trigger.

#NEED DARK!JOEL TO TAKE ME TO HIS PENTHOUSE AND FREAK ME IN WAYS UNIVERSALLY CONDEMNED BY POSTMODERN FEMINISM #IT'S SOOOOO BAD Y'ALL #this might be too niche but i hope at least one person enjoys LOL #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fic #joel miller x you #dark!joel

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sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts · 1 month ago

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𝑺𝑪𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑴? 𝑶𝒓 𝑪𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎? (Kinktober special) (J.M)

⤷Credits: Pinterest

Summary: He hunts you through the shadows, every sick, voyeuristic moment immortalized on camera. But it's not just fear coursing through you—your most depraved desires awaken when he finally closes in and takes what he's been watching from afar.

Warnings : dub-con themes, making of porn, voyeurism (making porn and having sex for an audience), toys, role-playing, stalking, power dynamics, cat and chase, spanking choking, knife play, manhandling, praise, dirty talk, degrading, oral M!, breeding kink, fear, mask kink, VERY ROUGH, KINKY AND DARK

A/N: When I say this has been sitting in my drafts for a LONGGG TIME, I'm not lying. I loved this idea, and I hope you guys love it just as much. Thank you so much to my lovely mutuals who listened to me yap and yap about this for almost two months. I'm so sorry I haven't been active. I'm a teaching assistant, and life is wild.

You stood in the kitchen, trying hard not to glance at the camera perched atop the microwave. Its red recording light blinked steadily, reminding you that every move, every breath, was being captured. The sound of popcorn popping on the stove filled the silence of the house, a comforting rhythm in the eerie stillness. The blue tint of the night, barely enough to see by, blended with the dim candlelight scattered around the room, creating a shadowy, unsettling atmosphere. It was the perfect setting for what was about to go down, and you had to keep your composure, fighting back the grin that threatened to spread across your lips.

This wasn’t just any night. This was the fall special for Sinning Sinners, the site that you and Joel had built from the ground up. It wasn’t your usual shoot where you’d just pull out a camera, fuck each other’s brains out, and call it a day. No, this was something more—something you both lived for, something that had become a tradition, an annual ritual that made your fans lose their fucking minds. Every fall, you and Joel took things up a notch, diving headfirst into the darker, kinkier side of your fantasies. It wasn’t just about sex; it was about pushing boundaries, about blending fear and desire until the line between them blurred into something that made your audience addicted.

Last year, you’d done a haunted corn maze, where Joel had fucked you right in the middle of it, surrounded by the rustling stalks and the cool night air. You could still feel the roughness of the corn beneath your hands, still hear the way you’d moaned like a slut as Joel took you in that eerie, isolated field. The memory alone made heat pool between your legs, a filthy reminder of how wild it had been, how much your fans had eaten it up. They’d gone crazy for it, the combination of fear and lust driving them to hit replay again and again. That’s what Sinning Sinners was all about—giving them something they couldn’t get anywhere else, something that made them come back for more, desperate for whatever twisted shit you and Joel would come up with next.

It had started with a late-night viewing of Scream. The room was dark except for the flickering light of the TV, casting eerie shadows across Joel’s face as you watched the familiar scenes unfold. You’d both seen it countless times, but something about that night felt different—charged. Joel’s hand rested on your thigh, his grip tightening with every kill, every chase, his eyes never leaving the screen.

When the credits rolled, he turned to you, his expression unreadable for a moment before that spark of twisted inspiration flickered in his eyes. “You know,” he started, his voice low and deliberate, “we’ve never done anything with Ghostface before.” There was a pause, the air between you thick with the weight of his words. “What if…this year, we take it further? Darker, dirtier. You could be the clueless victim, and I could be him. Stalking you, making you wait until I’m ready to strike.”

The second he mentioned it, your heart skipped a beat, excitement rushing through your veins. You could picture it already—Joel in the mask, his voice taunting you through the fabric, the thrill of being hunted, knowing what was coming but not when. It was perfect. The embodiment of fear and lust, wrapped in a twisted, beautiful package

The house was quiet, save for the rhythmic popping of kernels on the stove. You focused on the mundane task, pouring the popcorn into a bowl as the salty scent filled the air, trying to keep your cool. But it wasn’t easy. The night was thick with tension, the kind you could almost taste, like the first touch of a lover’s hand. You knew Joel was out there, somewhere in the darkness, watching you with those predatory eyes, waiting for his cue. It was all part of the game—the unspoken thrill of knowing you were being hunted, of playing dumb when you were anything but.

You bit your lip, fighting the urge to glance out the window. You’d agreed not to look, not to break character, even though every instinct screamed at you to check, to catch a glimpse of him lurking in the shadows. Instead, you turned your attention to the DVD shelf, your fingers brushing over the spines of the old horror movies. The camera, placed discreetly beside it, was rolling, capturing the subtle tremor in your hands, the way your breath hitched when you thought about what was coming. You grabbed a classic—something with blood, screams, and just the right amount of tension—and turned your back to the camera, giving the viewers a perfect shot of the darkened window behind you. They’d be watching, waiting, knowing exactly what was coming even if you were supposed to be oblivious.

You carried the bowl and the DVD down the hallway, the soft creak of the floorboards beneath your feet adding to the tension. The house felt alive, every shadow shifting as you passed as if it were in on the game. Your thoughts wandered to what was waiting in the bedroom, not just the TV and blankets, but also the props and toys you’d stashed away earlier. A black silk blindfold, a sleek vibrator, a collection of menacingly gleaming, faux weapons—everything was set, just in case things took a darker turn. The details mattered, after all.They were what made Sinning Sinners so addictive. The unpredictability, the raw, unfiltered lust that seeped into every frame, every shot. You never planned the sex, only the build-up—the suspense, the tension that made it all so fucking good.

You reached your bedroom, setting the DVD case on the dresser before catching sight of yourself in the mirror. You paused, taking in the reflection—a girl who looked sweet and innocent, but whose eyes held darker secrets. The oversized Scream shirt you wore hung just low enough to brush the tops of your thighs, barely covering the black lace panties beneath. It was the perfect look for what was coming next, just enough innocence to make the chase all the more thrilling.

You grabbed the old-school camera from the nightstand, the one you loved for its Y2K aesthetic, and snapped a quick photo. The flash momentarily blinded you, and you knew this shot would have to be carefully edited out of the final cut, but when your vision cleared, the result was exactly what you wanted. A keepsake, a little reminder of the night and the game you were about to play.

Finally, you settled into bed, propping yourself up against the pillows as the movie started to play. The flickering light from the TV cast eerie shadows across the room, heightening the tension. You let yourself get lost in it for a moment, the familiar scenes of blood and screams playing out on the screen, a reflection of the chaos that would soon unfold in your own home. But your mind wasn’t on the movie. It was on Joel, on the darkness creeping closer, on the game you’d both set in motion.

And then, you heard it—a faint creak, barely audible over the sound of the movie. But it was enough. Your breath hitched, your heart skipping a beat as you strained to listen. Another sound followed, this one more distinct, coming from the living room. The cue. It was time.

You slid out of bed, the cool air kissing your bare legs as you padded toward the door. Every step was deliberate, every movement calculated to match the growing tension. You were supposed to be scared, after all. You were supposed to be the clueless girl in the horror movie, the one who heard a noise and just had to investigate. It was cliché, but that was the point. The audience would be yelling at their screens, telling you to stay put, but you knew better. You knew exactly what was coming.

The living room was dimly lit, shadows stretching across the floor as you slowly entered. The popcorn bowl from earlier sat untouched on your dresser, a silent reminder of the night’s buildup. Your eyes drifted to the window, where the curtains fluttered ever so slightly, caught by a breeze you hadn’t noticed before. You tried to ignore the unsettling chill that crept up your spine, but you couldn’t help but notice the faint movement just outside—a hint of something, or someone, lurking in the darkness.

But you felt it. You felt him.

You took a hesitant step forward, your eyes scanning the room as if you were searching for the source of the sound. The anticipation was electric, sending shivers down your spine. Then, from the corner of your eye, you saw it—the flicker of movement, the unmistakable shape of a figure slipping into the room. You turned, just in time to see him, clad in black, the Ghostface mask gleaming in the dim light.

Your heart leaped into your throat as he lunged at you. You yelped, more out of excitement than fear, and bolted toward the kitchen. Your bare feet slapped against the hardwood as you ran, the thrill of the chase making your pulse race. You knew he was right behind you, could feel his presence like a shadow closing in.

The kitchen was dark, lit only by the faint glow of candles. You skidded to a stop, chest heaving as you spun around to face him. There he was, just a few feet away, the knife in his hand catching the light as he approached. The sight of him, the menace in his slow, deliberate steps, sent a delicious thrill through you.

You backed up against the counter, feeling the cool edge press into your lower back as Joel closed in on you. The Ghostface mask obscured his face, but you knew his eyes were locked on you, hungry, predatory. The thrill of the chase had your heart racing, adrenaline and desire blending into a heady mix that made your skin tingle. You watched as he glanced around the kitchen, his gaze settling on the knife block just within arm’s reach. He didn’t have a weapon with him—of course, he didn’t—but now, as his gloved hand wrapped around the handle of a large kitchen knife, the game took on a sharper, more dangerous edge.

Your breath hitched as he raised the knife, its gleaming blade catching the candlelight. For a split second, you were frozen, caught between the rush of fear and the wave of arousal that flooded your senses. This was what you craved—the danger, the tension, the feeling of being completely at someone else’s mercy. But you weren’t ready to give in just yet.

In a sudden burst of movement, you lifted your foot and stomped down hard on his, the force of it catching him by surprise. Joel grunted, the sound muffled by the mask, and his grip on the knife faltered just enough for you to slip past him. You bolted for the hallway, your heart pounding in your chest as you sprinted toward the bedroom, the thrill of the escape making you lightheaded. You could hear him behind you, his heavy footsteps echoing in the quiet house, getting closer with every second.

You burst into the bedroom and slammed the door behind you, but it barely slowed him down. You knew he was right there, just a heartbeat away. You stumbled back, your legs shaky from the rush, and tripped over the edge of the rug. You went down hard, knees hitting the floor with a jolt of pain that only added to the intensity of the moment. The door crashed open, and there he was, looming in the doorway, the knife still clutched in his hand.

“Please, mister Ghostface,” you whimpered, crawling backward as he advanced on you. “Don’t kill me. I’ll do anything.”

The words tumbled out of your mouth, breathless, desperate, exactly what he wanted to hear. You were playing your role to perfection, the terrified victim begging for her life, but beneath the surface, you were buzzing with anticipation. You knew the script—you knew he wouldn’t speak, wouldn’t break character. The silence was part of the game, part of what made it so thrilling. It kept you on edge, never knowing what he’d do next, never knowing when he’d strike.

You tried to crawl away, but you were trembling too much, your movements slow, uncoordinated. The heat between your legs was almost unbearable, the pulse of arousal matching the rhythm of your pounding heart. You knew you should be scared, terrified even, but all you could think about was how fucking turned on you were. Every time you glanced up at that mask, and saw the cold, expressionless eyes staring down at you, it sent another wave of desire crashing through you.

Your hands slipped on the floor as you tried to scramble to your feet, but before you could get far, he was on you. Joel’s hand shot out, grabbing your ankle and dragging you back toward him. You yelped, twisting in his grip, but it was useless. You were caught, and you both knew it. You fell back onto your knees, breath coming in ragged gasps as you looked up at him, eyes wide, pleading.

Your breath came in ragged gasps as you looked up at him, eyes wide and pleading. The air between you was thick with tension, every nerve in your body screaming with anticipation. You knew what was coming, and yet the thrill of it sent shivers down your spine. The Ghostface mask stared back at you, cold and unfeeling, but you knew Joel was beneath it, knew he was savoring this moment as much as you were. The thought made your pulse quicken, the heat between your legs growing more intense with every passing second.

Joel’s grip on your ankle was firm and possessive, and you could feel the strength in his hand as he slowly, deliberately pulled you closer. You tried to resist, to put up a token fight, but it was half-hearted at best. Deep down, you wanted this—wanted him to overpower you, to take control. The struggle only heightened your desire, making your skin tingle with excitement as you were dragged back across the floor.

His gloved hand trailed up your leg, rough leather brushing against your sensitive skin, sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core. You bit your lip, stifling a moan as his touch grew more suggestive, his fingers grazing the hem of your panties. The sensation was maddening, a teasing reminder of what you craved, what you’d been waiting for all night. You arched your back slightly, pushing into his touch, silently begging for more, but he didn’t give in—not yet.

Instead, he took his time, savoring your helplessness, the way you trembled beneath him. His other hand found its way to your waist, fingers digging into your flesh just enough to make you squirm. He held you there, pinned in place, and the dominance in his grip made your breath hitch, a sharp intake of air that only made you feel more vulnerable, more at his mercy. The knife, still clutched in his other hand, gleamed ominously in the dim light, a silent reminder of the power he held over you.

With a sudden, forceful motion, Joel lifted you by your hips, his strength taking you by surprise as he hoisted you onto the bed. You let out a gasp as your body was flipped, your stomach pressed against the mattress, your ass in the air. The position left you exposed, and vulnerable, and the cool air on your bare skin only heightened the sensation. Your panties clung to you, soaked through with arousal, and the thought of him seeing you like this—desperate, needy—sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you.

You turned your head to look back at him, the mask still hiding his face, but you knew what was behind it. You knew the look in his eyes, the hunger, the need. It made your heart race, made you want to push him further, to see just how far he’d take it. A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips, a hint of defiance in your gaze as you wiggled your hips slightly, teasing him, challenging him.

“What’s the matter, Ghostface?” you taunted, your voice dripping with mock innocence. “You gonna make me beg for it?”

The tension in the room crackled like electricity, your words hanging in the air, daring him to react. You could feel the heat of his stare through the mask, the way his breathing had grown heavier, more deliberate. You were pushing your luck, and you knew it, but that was half the fun. You wanted to see just how far you could go, how much you could provoke him before he snapped.

Joel’s hand tightened on your waist, fingers digging in harder, and you couldn’t suppress the moan that slipped from your lips. The sting of it, the roughness, only added to the ache between your legs, made you grind against the bed in a futile attempt to relieve the pressure building inside you. You wanted him—wanted him to take you, to claim you, to make you his. But he didn’t move, didn’t give you what you were silently pleading for.

Instead, he leaned in close, the knife gliding along the curve of your ass, cold metal sending chills down your spine. You shivered, the sensation both terrifying and thrilling, the line between fear and desire blurring even further. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you—knew this was all part of the game—but that didn’t stop your heart from racing, didn’t stop the pulse of arousal that throbbed between your thighs.

But when he finally spoke, it wasn’t with words. It was with action. His hand left your waist and came down hard on your ass, the sharp smack of it echoing through the room. You gasped, the sudden pain mingling with pleasure, leaving you breathless. It was exactly what you’d been waiting for, that rough, unyielding touch that reminded you who was in control. Your bratty defiance melted away, replaced by a desperate need to please him, to be good for him.

The weight of the bed shifted beneath you, the mattress dipping slightly as Joel moved. You could feel his presence hovering behind you, the tension crackling in the air like a live wire. The anticipation was unbearable, your body thrumming with a desperate need for him. You knew what was coming, could sense the change in the atmosphere, the way the game was evolving into something even more intense.

You closed your eyes, biting your lip as you tried to focus on the sensations coursing through you. The sound of fabric rustling behind you sent a shiver down your spine, the unmistakable sign that Joel was shedding his clothes, leaving only the mask to maintain the illusion. Your heart raced at the thought, your imagination running wild with what he’d do next, how he’d use that control to push you to your limits.

The bed shifted again, and you felt his hands on your hips, rough and demanding as he flipped you over onto your back. Your eyes fluttered open, immediately locking onto the masked face hovering above you. The sight was both terrifying and exhilarating, that blank, soulless expression sending a rush of adrenaline through your veins. The contrast between the mask and the naked body beneath it was a stark reminder of the power dynamics at play, the thrill of surrendering to something dark and unknown.

Before you could react, his hand was on your throat, fingers wrapping around your neck with a possessive grip that made your breath catch. The pressure wasn’t enough to hurt, but it was enough to send a clear message—one of dominance, of control. Your pulse quickened, the thrum of it vibrating against his palm as he leaned in closer, the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress.

His other hand moved to your mouth, a single finger pressing against your lips in a silent command to stay quiet. The shh motion was simple, but the intensity behind it made your stomach twist with excitement. He didn’t need to speak; his actions said everything, and you were more than willing to follow his lead. You were completely at his mercy, and the thought of what he might do next made your body hum with anticipation.

Your thoughts spiraled in a chaotic mix of desire and anticipation, each passing second tightening the knot of tension inside you. Pinned beneath Joel’s weight, you could feel every beat of his heart, every rise and fall of his chest as he loomed over you, the room closing in, suffocating you in the intensity of the moment. Each breath felt heavier, every second stretching out, the silence amplifying the raw need that pulsed between you like a live wire. Your mind raced, imagining all the ways he might break you—would he drag it out, tease you until you were trembling and desperate, or would he take what he wanted in that dark, primal way that left you aching for more? The uncertainty was maddening, fueling the fire that burned hotter with every second, leaving you trembling beneath him, craving whatever came next.

His hand lingered on your throat, the pressure a warning, a promise of what was to come. But then it shifted, slipping away only to tangle roughly in your hair, yanking your head back with a sharp tug that sent a jolt of electricity down your spine. You gasped, the sting of it igniting something deep inside you, a spark that fanned into a wildfire. His grip tightened, possessive, commanding, and it made your blood hum with anticipation. But before you could even think to protest, to utter a single word, his other hand cracked across your cheek with a sharp, stinging slap. The sound echoed through the room, mingling with your ragged breath, the pain mingling with the heat pooling low in your belly, your body instinctively arching toward him, craving more.

You whimpered, the sound breaking free before you could stop it, a desperate little plea that hung in the air between you. But before you could say more, Joel brought a finger to his lips, signaling you to stay silent. The power in that small gesture sent a shiver down your spine, making you bite down on your lower lip to keep from crying out again. Your mind scrambled, caught between the urge to obey and the desire to push him, to see just how far he’d go to enforce that command.

“Please…,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath, the word laced with the need clawing at you from the inside. “Please, I need—”

His hand snapped out, pressing against your mouth in a firm, silencing grip. The warning was clear: no more words. The message sent a rush of heat straight to your core, leaving you trembling beneath him, your breath hitching as the tension wound tighter. The edge of danger, the unknown, had you teetering on the brink, each second a delicious torture.

His grip on your hair tightened, forcing your head back further, exposing your neck as his hand slid down from your cheek to wrap around your throat again, squeezing just enough to keep you on edge, to remind you who was in control. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the hardness pressing against your thigh, a silent promise of what was to come. When he finally released you, your lips parted on their own, eager and ready, a silent invitation, your body screaming for him, for the release only he could give.

Joel didn’t waste a second. The urgency in his movements was palpable as he shoved his pants down just enough to free himself. Your eyes widened at the sight of him—thick, veined, and already slick with precum. It stood proud and heavy, the tip flushed a deep, angry red, a testament to how badly he needed this, how badly he needed you. The sight of it made your mouth water, every nerve in your body singing with the anticipation of what was coming next. He didn’t bother with teasing, didn’t ease you into it. No, he was done with patience.

With a rough tug on your hair, he pulled your head down, forcing your mouth open as he guided the head of his cock to your lips. The taste of salt hit your tongue, heady and intoxicating, and you opened wider, welcoming him in. He pushed forward, the thick head sliding past your lips, inch by inch, stretching your mouth in the most delicious way. There was no gentleness, no care in his movements—he took what he wanted, and you let him, relishing the way he filled you, the way his cock slid deeper, hitting the back of your throat with a force that made you gag, your eyes watering.

But you didn’t pull back. You leaned into it, taking him as far as you could, the taste of him filling your senses. His hips rocked forward with a steady rhythm, his grip in your hair unyielding as he held you in place, his breathing ragged, chest heaving. Every thrust sent a jolt through you, the sound of your gagging, the wet, vulgar noises your mouth made as it worked around him echoing in the small room. Your hands found his thighs, nails digging in, desperate for something to hold onto as you tried to keep up with the pace he set. You could feel him trembling, his breath hitching as he fucked your mouth, each thrust harder than the last, pushing you to your limits.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore, when the burn in your throat became too much, he pulled out abruptly, leaving you gasping for air, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. But there was no reprieve. Joel spun you around, flipping you onto your back with a force that left you breathless, your head spinning. The bed creaked beneath you as he grabbed your hips, lifting you up and positioning you exactly how he wanted—bent over the edge of the bed, your ass in the air, your face pressed into the cool sheets. The position was humiliating and degrading, and it only made you want him more. You could feel the bruises forming where his fingers dug into your skin, the pain a sharp contrast to the pleasure that thrummed through you, making your body tremble with need.

He wasted no time, no gentle caress—just pure, unfiltered need. His cock nudged against your entrance, the wetness there making it easy for him to slide in. The stretch was exquisite, each inch of him filling you in a way that made your toes curl, your back arching as you tried to take more, to feel more. He went slow at first, almost teasing, just enough to drive you crazy, to make you desperate. But the patience didn’t last. Joel wasn’t in the mood for slow.

With a growl, he grabbed your legs, yanking them together at the knees, binding them tightly with the rope he had stashed nearby. The sensation of being bound, completely at his mercy, made your head spin, your thoughts blurring with the intensity of it. You whimpered into the pillow, your voice muffled, but he didn’t care. His hands slid up your sides, his touch firm, and possessive, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. You could barely breathe, the weight of him pressing down on you, the way he filled you so completely making it hard to think, hard to focus on anything but the overwhelming need to be fucked, to be owned.

“Please…” The word slipped out, barely a whisper, but he heard it. He heard the desperation, the plea, and it only made him smirk. His fingers found your lips, pressing against them in a silent command for silence, a reminder that you were his to control, to take.

And take he did.

He thrust into you hard, his hips snapping forward with a force that made the bed creak beneath you. The angle was different now, deeper, more intense, each thrust hitting a spot inside you that had you seeing stars. You could feel every inch of him, the way he pulsed inside you, the way his cock twitched with every movement. He leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back, the heat of his body wrapping around you, suffocating in the most delicious way. The weight of him, the sheer power behind each thrust, made it hard to breathe, hard to think. But you didn’t care. You didn’t need to think. All you needed was him, and he gave it to you—hard and unrelenting.

His grip on your arms tightened, holding you in place as he started to pound into you, each thrust harder than the last, driving you into the mattress with a force that left you breathless. The bed shook with the intensity of it, your body jerking with each movement, your mind going blank as you surrendered to the rhythm he set, the brutal, unforgiving pace that had you on the edge of oblivion. The mix of pain and pleasure was overwhelming, your senses overloaded, your thoughts reduced to a single, all-consuming need. More. You needed more.

At some point, he reached up, and grabbed your hair again, yanking your head back so he could take a picture with the camera perched nearby. The flash went off, a quick burst of light that left you momentarily blinded, but you barely noticed. All you could focus on was the way his cock felt inside you, the way his movements became more erratic, more desperate as he neared his release. The tension in the air was thick, suffocating, each thrust sending you closer to the edge, the pleasure coiling tight in your belly, ready to snap.

And then it did.

With one final, brutal thrust, Joel slammed into you, burying himself deep as he came, the hot rush of his seed flooding you, marking you as his. Your body responded instinctively, clenching around him, milking every last drop as a moan tore from your lips, muffled against the mattress. The orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, leaving you trembling and breathless, your mind wiped clean by the sheer intensity of it.

He stayed there for a moment, his breath heavy and labored, his body pressed firmly against yours, the heat of him enveloping you like a suffocating blanket. The world felt distant, the only reality was the sensation of him inside you, the raw, primal connection that had just played out between you. And then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over. Joel pulled out, the sudden emptiness making you shudder, your body still quivering from the aftershocks, your mind struggling to piece together what had just transpired.

The weight of Joel’s body finally lifted as he pushed himself up, his chest rising and falling with ragged, labored breaths. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the heavy panting, the bed creaking softly beneath you both as the raw intensity of what had just happened lingered in the air like a living thing. You could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the slick sheen of sweat clinging to him, his hands still trembling slightly as he reached up to remove the mask.

Slowly, Joel peeled off the Ghostface mask, revealing his flushed, sweat-slicked face beneath. His hair was damp, clinging to his forehead in dark, messy strands, and his eyes—those dark, intense eyes—were still clouded with the remnants of desire. The sight of him, so raw and exposed, sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, your body instinctively responding to the primal energy he exuded. Even after everything, he still looked insatiable—like he could take more, give more, his hunger a tangible force that hung in the air between you, making you ache all over again.

Joel let out a long, satisfied breath, his half-smirk teasing as he shook his head. “Fuck,” he muttered, his voice hoarse and deep, the rasp of it crawling down your spine. “We’re done, sweetheart. Scene’s over.”

You laughed, soft and breathless, your body still humming from the intensity of what had just happened. “That was fucking intense,” you managed to say, your voice thick with exhaustion and satisfaction, your muscles still quivering in the aftermath.

Joel chuckled, the sound deep and rich, as he ran a hand through his damp hair, pushing it back from his forehead. He leaned against the headboard, a low groan escaping him as he tried to catch his breath. “I’m telling you, baby,” he said with a smirk, his voice still ragged from exertion. “I’m fifty-six fuckin’ years old. Keep this up, and I might need a vasectomy just to survive.”

You snorted, the sound muffled by the pillow as you turned your head, grinning at him. “Maybe you should consider it,” you teased, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “But then again, where’s the fun in that? I’d miss all that old man cum you’re so damn good at shooting.”

Joel rolled his eyes, his breath still uneven, but his lips quirked up in amusement. “Right,” he drawled, his voice dry as ever. “That’s definitely what you’d miss most.”

You shrugged, the banter lightening the air between you. But even as the playful words filled the space, your gaze was drawn back to him—the way sweat still glistened on his skin, the flush across his cheeks, the steady rise and fall of his chest. His body was like a furnace, radiating heat that pulled you in, and despite the teasing, you could feel the tension building again, that familiar hunger stirring deep within you.

God, his age did something to you. There was something undeniably sexy about the way he carried himself, the way experience was etched into every line on his rugged face, in every confident movement. Joel knew exactly how to touch you, how to push you past your limits and pull you back just before you fell over the edge. The years had only made him more magnetic, the broad expanse of his chest, the strength in his arms, the silver at his temples—every mark of time made him even more devastatingly irresistible. He wasn’t some boy fumbling his way through; he was all man, and that raw masculinity turned you on in ways you couldn’t even fully explain.

Your teeth sank into your lower lip as you took him in, your eyes tracing the rough stubble along his jaw, the beads of sweat clinging to his skin, the slow rhythm of his breathing as he began to recover. The thought of what he was capable of, what he had already done to you, sent a fresh surge of heat flooding your core. Your body was already aching for more, the desire rekindled like an unquenchable fire, burning hotter with every glance.

Without thinking, you shifted closer, your hand trailing down his chest, the hard muscle flexing beneath your fingertips. His breath hitched at the contact, his body tensing beneath your touch. You leaned in, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper as your lips hovered near his ear. “You know, Joel,” you purred, your tone dripping with want, “it’s fucking hot that you can still fuck me like this. Fifty-six and still going strong? That’s a serious turn-on.”

His eyes darkened instantly, the playful amusement giving way to something more dangerous, more primal. “You think so?” he murmured, his voice rough and gravelly, sending a shiver racing down your spine. “You like fucking an old man, huh?”

“Love it,” you whispered, your hand sliding lower, teasing the waistband of his pants. “You’ve got experience, you know exactly what you’re doing, and it’s sexy as hell.”

The tension between you thickened, the air charged with electricity. The teasing words from earlier faded into the background as that insatiable hunger flared up again, demanding attention. Without another word, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his in a rough, heated kiss. The taste of his sweat lingered on your tongue, mingling with the musk of sex still clinging to his skin. The kiss was intense, a clash of teeth and tongues, the kind that left bruises and made you ache for more.

Joel responded instantly, his mouth claiming yours with a raw hunger that left you breathless. His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer, his fingers digging into your skin in a way that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through you. The heat of him pressed against you, reigniting that fire burning in your belly, a fire that demanded to be fed.

You pulled back just enough to grab the Ghostface mask, your fingers brushing against the cool plastic as you lifted it from his lap. You held it up, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you looked at him, your lips curving into a playful smirk. “My turn?”

Joel raised an eyebrow, a slow, crooked grin spreading across his face as he leaned back against the bed, clearly amused. “You sure you can handle it, Ghostface?” His voice was thick with anticipation, but there was a challenge there too, something dark and thrilling.

You slipped the mask over your head, adjusting it until it fit snugly, the darkness of it shrouding your vision, heightening every sensation. The thrill of the role reversal sent a shiver down your spine, your heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and excitement. Through the narrow eyeholes, you could see Joel watching you, his grin widening as he leaned back on the bed, his hands resting behind his head, his gaze trailing over your body.

“Oh, I can handle it,” you purred, your voice muffled and distorted by the mask, but the confidence in your tone was unmistakable. “Question is… can you?”

Joel’s laughter filled the room, a deep, rich sound that made your pulse quicken. “Bring it on, baby,” he challenged, his voice thick with anticipation. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

You didn’t need any more encouragement. With a swift, determined movement, you straddled his hips, the feel of his hard length pressing against your core sending a jolt of desire straight through you. The mask heightened everything—the darkness, the mystery, the anonymity—and it made you feel powerful, dangerous, like you could do anything, take anything.

You ground down against him, teasingly slow, the friction making both of you groan in raw pleasure. “You like this, old man?” you taunted, your voice a low, sultry growl that cut through the room like a blade. “You like it when I’m on top, calling the shots?”

Joel’s fingers dug into your hips, his grip bruising as he tried to take back control, to guide the rhythm, but you weren’t about to let that happen. With a swift motion, you shoved his hands away, reclaiming your dominance with a fierce determination. The heat between your thighs was unbearable, the throbbing of his cock against you making it almost impossible to resist the urge to give in. But you were far from finished.

Straddling him, you felt a surge of power course through you, the mask hiding the wicked smile that curled your lips. “You think just because you’ve got a few years on me, you can control me?” you challenged, your voice muffled by the mask, but the taunting edge in your tone was unmistakable, dripping with dark satisfaction.

Joel's eyes narrowed, the playful gleam in them giving way to something far darker, more intense. His pupils dilated, his gaze locking onto yours with a challenge that made your pulse quicken. “I know I can,” he growled, his voice thick with conviction. In one swift motion, he bucked his hips upward, and the sudden pressure of him—thick and unforgiving—against your core forced a stifled moan from your lips, the sound muffled by the mask. The sensation was electric, the jolt of it spreading through your body, but you were determined not to let him win this round.

The heat between your legs was almost unbearable, your arousal slick and ready, but you held back, savoring the power you had over him in this moment. You leaned forward, your masked face just inches from his, the darkness of the Ghostface mask amplifying the wicked grin spreading across your lips. “You love it when I take charge, don’t you?” you whispered, your voice low and dripping with seductive malice. Your fingers wrapped around his length, feeling the way his cock twitched in your grip, hard and pulsing with need.

He groaned, the sound deep and guttural, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps as you rubbed the tip of him against your slick folds. The tease was torturous—for both of you—but it only fueled the fire burning in your belly. The friction was delicious, sending sparks of pleasure through you, but you held him just at the edge, denying him the satisfaction of slipping inside.

Joel’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck straining as he glared up at you, his chest heaving with barely controlled desire. “You think you’re tough shit, don’t you?” he spat, the challenge in his voice unmistakable. “Playing games with me? You know damn well who’s really in control here.”

Your heart raced, the thrill of his words sending a shiver down your spine. But you weren’t about to back down. The power you felt in this moment was intoxicating, and you reveled in it, letting it wash over you like a drug. You leaned in even closer, the mask brushing against his face, your breath hot and heavy as you whispered, “I’m the one calling the shots tonight, old man. And you’re going to beg for it.”

His breath hitched, a low growl rumbling from his chest as he stared up at you, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. It was a dangerous game you were playing, one that could flip on a dime, but that only made it more exhilarating. Without warning, you sank down on him, taking him in inch by agonizing inch, the stretch of him filling you completely. The sensation was almost too much—your body trembling as you tried to accommodate his size—but you reveled in the delicious torment of it, in the way his eyes widened, his lips parting in a silent groan as he felt you envelope him.

Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat sending a fresh wave of heat through you as you adjusted to the feel of him inside you. The fullness was overwhelming, a delicious mix of pain and pleasure that left you breathless. You could feel every inch of him, thick and pulsing, stretching you to your limits, but instead of relenting, you pushed back against the sensation, embracing it, letting it consume you.

Joel’s hands shot to your thighs, his grip bruising as he tried to regain some semblance of control. But you weren’t about to let him. You started to move, your pace slow and torturous at first, dragging out every inch of him until he was panting beneath you, his body straining with the effort to hold back. The power you felt in that moment was intoxicating, a heady mix of control and desire that made your whole body hum with pleasure.

“Fuck, baby,” Joel groaned, his voice strained, his control slipping as you rode him harder, faster. His head fell back against the pillows, his eyes squeezing shut as he fought to keep up with you, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. “You’re going to kill me.”

A wicked grin spread across your lips beneath the mask, your own breath coming faster as you leaned in close, your voice dripping with mockery. “Good,” you hissed, your breath hot against his skin, your words cutting like a knife. “I want you to feel every fucking second of this.”

Your pace quickened, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room, each thrust sending a wave of pleasure crashing through you. You could feel him throbbing inside you, the tension coiling tighter and tighter, but you were relentless, driving him to the edge, pushing him to the brink until he was gasping for breath, his control hanging by a thread.

But Joel wasn’t one to be outdone. His hands tightened on your hips, his grip ironclad as he suddenly flipped you over, pinning you beneath him with a swift, powerful motion. The loss of control sent a thrill through you, a mix of fear and excitement that made your heart race. The mask slipped slightly, but you didn’t care—you were too far gone, too caught up in the intensity of it all.

“Can’t hear you too well through that mask, baby,” he taunted, his voice low and rough, dripping with a primal need that smoldered between you. It was that shift—how effortlessly he went from serious to sexy, from calm to commanding—that made your heart race. You loved how he could flip the switch so quickly, one moment a stern, unyielding force, the next a devilish tease who knew exactly how to push your buttons. He flashed the safe signal, his eyes locking onto yours, daring you to stop him, but you didn’t even consider it. You nodded, giving him the go-ahead, and in that instant, he seized control completely.

Joel didn’t hold back. His thrusts were relentless, each one harder and deeper than the last, pushing you to the brink of madness with every stroke. Your breath came in ragged gasps, the pleasure so intense it danced on the edge of pain, each powerful movement driving you closer to the precipice of ecstasy. The mask you wore muffled your moans, but Joel didn’t need to hear them to know how much you were enjoying this—he could feel it in the way your body clung to his, in the way you tightened around him with every thrust, your nails digging into his back as if trying to anchor yourself amidst the storm of sensation.

“You forget who you’re fucking with,” Joel snarled, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through your very bones. His words were rough, filled with a dark, commanding energy that sent a thrill straight to your core. “I’m not some green kid you can boss around, baby. I’m a grown-ass man, and I know exactly how to make you fucking scream.” The raw authority in his tone was intoxicating, feeding into your desire as he took you to a place where you craved nothing more than to lose control under his relentless dominance.

His words ignited something primal within you, a heady mix of fear and desire that had your heart racing. Before you could respond, he punctuated his declaration with a hard, brutal thrust that tore a cry from your throat, your back arching off the bed as pleasure detonated inside you, leaving you trembling. The power he wielded over you in that moment was absolute, and though part of you wanted to fight back, to reassert your dominance, the larger part of you was helpless under the force of his will.

Joel’s hands were like iron bands around your wrists, pinning them above your head as he took full control, his body a solid, unyielding presence pressing against yours. The heat of his skin, the relentless pace he set—it was all-consuming, overwhelming, leaving you breathless and on the edge of losing yourself completely in the moment. His grip tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh just enough to remind you who was in charge, who had the power, and the weight of that realization sent a shiver down your spine.

Without missing a beat, Joel lifted the mask just enough to expose your mouth, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. He needed to hear you, to know that every word, every moan, was uninhibited, unfiltered, and raw. His breath was hot against your ear as he leaned in, his voice a dark, velvety whisper that held a dangerous edge.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he growled, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear in a way that made your entire body tremble. The command in his voice was undeniable, a rough, primal demand that left no room for hesitation. “Say it, baby. Say my fucking name.”

The sound of his voice, so close, so dominant, sent a surge of desire through you, making it impossible to resist. You could feel the tension building, the pressure of his control wrapping around you like a vice, squeezing out every last ounce of resistance. You knew what he wanted to hear, and as the words formed on your lips, the last remnants of your willpower crumbled.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the flood of words he demanded, but the relentless pressure of his cock, the way he filled you so completely, left you with no choice. The words were ripped from your throat, a desperate, breathless moan. “You,” you gasped, your voice breaking under the strain of it all. “Fuck, Joel, it’s you. All fucking yours.”

The admission seemed to unlock something primal in Joel, an almost feral grin spreading across his face as he looked down at you, eyes dark with possessive intensity. “Damn right,” he growled, the words thick with dominance and a promise that sent a shiver straight through you. His grip on your hips tightened, fingers digging into your flesh with bruising force as he pulled you closer, driving himself deeper inside you. Each thrust became more erratic, more brutal, as he pushed you both to the brink, his body moving with a relentless, desperate rhythm that left you breathless.

��I’m gonna fill you up, baby,” he rasped, his voice a low, guttural sound that vibrated through your entire body. “Mark you as mine, so you never forget it. So none of them ever forget it.”

It wasn’t just the physical act—Joel loved reminding your viewers and, more importantly, you, exactly who you belonged to, both on and off the camera. His possessiveness was more than just a game; it was a declaration, a brand that he was intent on leaving imprinted on every inch of you. He reveled in the power, in the knowledge that no matter what you showed the world, in the end, you were his. And he wanted everyone to know it—especially you.

His words were the final push you needed, the tipping point that sent you careening over the edge. The coil of tension in your belly tightened impossibly before snapping, your orgasm crashing over you with a force that ripped through your entire being. Your body trembled violently, every muscle tensing as you cried out his name, the sound raw and desperate, echoing in the small space between you.

You felt your walls clench around him, milking him as the pleasure tore through you in relentless waves, each one more powerful than the last. It was overwhelming, an onslaught of sensation so intense it bordered on painful as if every nerve ending had caught fire. Your mind went blank, lost in the haze of ecstasy that consumed you, your vision blurring as your senses overloaded.

But Joel wasn’t done with you. Even as you came, he kept moving, his thrusts relentless, determined to draw every last ounce of pleasure from your body. You were oversensitive, every touch, every movement sending shocks of sensation through you, but there was nothing you could do to stop him, no way to slow the onslaught of pleasure-pain that had you teetering on the edge of sanity.

“Look at you,” Joel taunted, his voice a rough whisper as he watched you come undone beneath him. “Thought you were in control, huh? Thought you could make me beg? Well, baby, it’s you who’s begging now.”

He lifted the mask slightly, just enough to hear you more clearly, to see the desperation in your eyes as he continued to drive into you. His breath was hot against your skin, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “Tell me what you want,” he commanded, his voice dark and demanding. “Beg for it, baby. Beg for me to cum inside you.”

You could barely form words, your brain fogged by the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins. But you managed to choke out a reply, your voice shaking with need. “Please, Joel,” you whispered, the desperation in your voice clear. “Fuck, I need you. Please, just… just cum inside me. Fill me up. Please.”

The sound of your pleading pushed Joel over the edge, and with a deep, animalistic growl, he slammed into you one final time. His release was fierce, filling you to the brim, hot and thick, exactly as he promised. It sent you spiraling into another

mind-blowing orgasm, your body locking around him, milking him dry as your walls clenched, squeezing every last drop out of him.

The sound of your pleading seemed to push Joel over the edge. With a low, guttural growl, he thrust into you one last time, burying himself deep inside you as his own orgasm hit, his release hot and overwhelming, filling you up just as he promised. The sensation sent you spiraling into another wave of pleasure, your body tightening around him, milking him for every last drop as you both rode out the aftershocks together.

It was damn near unbelievable how many times he'd come-his stamina, his relentless drive. Joel was fifty-fucking-six, and still, he had you unraveling over and over, your own body shaking with pleasure more times than you could count. The heat between you was addictive, his age only adding to the intensity of it. Most men his age couldn't keep up after one round, but Joel? He fucked like a man half his age, like he had something to prove. And every time he buried himself deep inside you, filling you up again and again, it reminded you exactly who the fuck you belonged to.

The world around you ceased to exist. The only thing that mattered was the primal connection between you, the harsh panting of your breath, the erratic pounding of your heart echoing in your ears. Your bodies were trembling, utterly spent and satisfied beyond words. Joel's weight on top of you was grounding his presence a reminder that this- he-was yours

Finally, he rolled off you, collapsing beside you on the bed, both of you struggling to catch your breath. The mask lay discarded somewhere between you, forgotten in the haze of exhaustion and satisfaction. Joel reached out, pulling you into his arms as you trembled with the aftershocks that still rippled through your body, your muscles twitching with the remnants of pleasure

"Still think you're in charge?" Joel's voice was low, teasing, though his eyes were soft, filled with a tenderness that made your heart skip a beat.

You didn't have the energy to argue, not after the way he'd fucked you senseless, so you just smiled, curling into his side. Your fingers lazily traced circles on his chest, his skin still warm and slick with sweat. "Maybe we both are," you whispered, pressing a soft kiss against his chest, savoring the salty taste of his skin, the feeling of him still lingering deep inside you.

Joel chuckled, a deep, satisfied rumble that reverberated through his chest. His arms tightened around you, his lips brushing over the top of your head. "Yeah, maybe," he murmured softly. "But don't you forget, baby-you're mine. Always.”

You sighed, your heart swelling with a mix of satisfaction and love, a contentment that only he could bring you. The thrill of what you'd just shared lingered, the intensity of it making your body hum as you drifted off in his arms. No matter how many games you played, how much you teased each other, you knew you'd always come back to this-back to him

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laligraves · 1 month ago

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sweet angel agency

dark!joel miller x fem!reader

[18+] | wc: ~2.3k summary: Joel mistakes you for the escort he ordered. masterlist | AO3

warnings: dark!Joel, TLOU AU, noncon/dubcon (im so serious don't read if it makes you uncomfortable), older!joel/no outbreak, not proofread, no use of y/n or too many details on reader's appearance, reader has hair joel can pull, reader can be picked up by joel, fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n: happy october! i have these three serial killer!joel WIPs i keep jumping between but idk which one to finish 😭 so i wrote this instead lol

“No, no, no. Shit!”

Your car emits a loud creaking sound and begins to shake. Thinking quickly, you drive into a small cul-de-sac, away from the main road and fast cars. It rolls to a stop with one final groan, shutting off completely.

“Fuck,” you mutter, “are you kidding me?”

You grab your phone from the center console, noticing the 3% battery, and shoot a text to your friend that you’ll be late to the Halloween party.

It dies as you press the send button and you throw it to the passenger seat in exasperation. You look around the rows of houses. There’s a Halloween event in the city, which probably explains the lack of cars in the driveways and the turned off porch lights.

Well, all except one.

A pickup truck with tools and materials in the bed, is parked in the driveway of a home. The porch light is on and you can see the flicker of the TV through the closed blinds.

You hope the family is nice enough to let you use their phone or even if by some miracle, one of them knows how to fix your car. As you step out of the car and smooth down your dress, you pray they aren’t judgmental of your outfit choice.

It’s a tiny, silk dress complete with angel wings and thigh high stockings. You pull the dress down in an effort to cover your thighs but it only brings it down from your chest, accentuating your tits.

With no choices left, you ring the doorbell to the house. There’s no noise aside from the crickets and the TV, until you hear the heavy thuds of boots walking towards the door.

It swings open, revealing a tall, older man. His hair and beard have streaks of gray and his brown eyes are lined with soft wrinkles. The button down he wears stretches over his broad chest and as he leans his arm on the door, the bottom of his shirt rises to show a slight belly and a happy trail.

In other words, he's handsome. A quick scan of his left hand shows no wedding ring.

You give him a pretty smile, not above using your looks to get what you want.

“Hi,” you say as you give him your name, “sorry to bother you. My car broke down and I was wondering if I could use your phone to call a tow truck?”

His eyes do a slow sweep of your body, lingering on the lacy band of your thigh highs, then back up to your eyes,

“Didn’t realize you came with a story.”

Your eyebrows pinch in confusion. “Uh–story? What?”

“And the angel costume… I guess that’s expected.”

“May I use your phone?” you ask again.

He pushes the front door wider, motioning for you to walk in. “It’s in the kitchen.”

You walk inside and accidentally brush against his body. Aside from his confusing comments, the deep rumble of his voice caused goosebumps to rise on your skin. You walk into the hallway, stopping at the entrance of the living room, waiting for him to lead you to the kitchen.

“Are you… home alone or–”

You feel his hand snake through your hair and pull you back into his chest. His other hand slips under your dress and cups your pussy, rubbing over the thin material of your panties.

“What the fuck–”

You lift your hands to scratch and push him away but he only holds you tighter.

“Stop playin’ games, little girl,” he growls, “we both know why you’re here.”

His fingers, rough and calloused even through your panties, glide over your panty-covered slit in rough strokes. You’re frozen in his arms, unsure of what to do.

Your heart pounds fast in your chest and you feel warmth spread through your body.

“I don’t–please, sir–” you stutter.

His fingers slip into your panties and you bite your lip to muffle your moan. He swirls his middle finger at your entrance, gathering the slick that’s dripped out of you, and drags it up to circle your clit.

You gasp, the sudden jolt of pleasure taking you by surprise.

“So fuckin’ sensitive,” he growls, “can’t wait to sink my cock in ya’, angel.”

Your hands try to dislodge his arms from around you, but he slips his hand around your neck and squeezes, cutting off your air supply. Your wings bend in his hold and the plastic middle digs into your back.

“I told them I wanted you to call me Joel,” he murmurs, loosening his hand to allow you to breathe, “but I like sir.”

“What are you talking about—”

Joel interrupts you again, ripping your panties in a stinging snap and spinning your around to face him. You teeter and almost trip on your heels, but he crouches and swings you over his shoulder.

He brings his hand down on your ass, ordering you to stop squirming, girl, while you feel the cool air brush on your naked cunt.

Joel walks you through the hallway and into a room, dropping you on his bed. You try to scoot away from him, but he grabs your foot and yanks you back down.

“No, please,” you cry, “I don’t know what this is–”

“We won’t be needing these,” he says as he slips off your heels.

“Sir–”

Joel grabs the top of your dress and rips it half, maneuvering your body so he can untie your wings, leaving you in nothing but your stockings.

You don’t like the way your belly tightens with each stroke of his rough hands over your heated skin or the way your cunt drips with need every time he calls you a pretty angel.

He laughs at your attempts to kick or shove him away, and easily overpowers you. Joel pushes your hands back and nuzzles your breasts, gliding his nose over one, sliding to the other, until he suckles a peaked nipple into his mouth.

It gets you to stop fighting and instead you whimper in his hold, pushing your chest up so he can get more of your plump flesh into his mouth.

He makes room for himself between your thighs, grinding down his bulge onto your bare pussy. The rough material of his jeans contrasts the softness of his mouth and your brain short circuits.

“Always the same with you sluts,” he growls, “beggin’ me to stop but look at ya’, soakin’ my jeans.”

Joel props himself up, giving a kiss to the tip of each breast, and holds your mouth open with rough fingers to shove your panties inside. With your now torn dress, he uses the silk to tie your hands together.

“Can’t get away from me now, little girl. You’re all mine.”

Your knees are bent and thighs spread open, giving him a perfect view of your cunt. He uses one hand to thumb your tiny hole while the other unbuckles his belt.

“Prettiest pussy i’ve ever seen,” Joel says, “gonna make a mess in it.”

Joel pushes his jeans down and fists his cock, squeezing the thick length in his hand. A pulse starts in your cunt at the sight and you unconsciously tighten your inner muscles.

You push the inappropriate thoughts out of your head, reminding yourself that this is a stranger, one that you wanted help from–but the dribble of pre-cum on his purple tip makes your mouth water.

His cock is thick, angry-looking, and curved slightly. A patch of curly hair, silver streaked just like his head, covers his base.

Joel slips a single finger inside of you and you both groan, him from the snug fit and you from the stretch. Your back arches and you cry out from behind the gag.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he murmurs, “how am I gonna fit in here, angel?”

He slides his finger out and notches the tip of his cock to your slick entrance. You cry, no, no, please, through your gag, but your resolve slowly slips.

Joel holds your thighs open and thrusts in with one firm push, lodging himself to the hilt. It takes you a few moments to react, but you scream behind the gag.

“Fuck, fuck,” he says, “that’s—fuck. You’re fuckin’ perfect.”

You flutter around his length, trying to accommodate his size, feeling every veiny and bumpy ridge on his cock.

He stills, clutching your thighs and sliding his fingers beneath the lace band of your stockings.

“Grippin’ me so well, angel,” Joel groans, grinding down. “Meant to be, yeah?”

No, you scream in your head, but your body quivers in excitement and you breathe in the scent of his cologne and sweat, wanting him but, at the same time remembering how you ended up here.

“Look at cha’,” he laughs, “impatient little thing. Already fuckin’ herself on my cock.”

You try to deny it, that you’re currently not swiveling your hips, bouncing with the little room you have, trying to get him to move, but it’s no use. You’re chasing the warmth that simmers in your belly and you purposefully clench around his length.

Joel moves slowly, sliding out, watching the flicker of emotions on your face.

It barely fits, and it borders on pain. But the heat in your pussy only grows with each growl or moan that spills from his mouth.

You’re embarrassingly wet, making it so much easier for him to pound into you. He watches your joined bodies, eyes half closed but focused on the way your inner lips grip him, on how your slick drowns him from tip to base.

“Should I keep you, little girl?” Joel groans. “Chain you to my bed so you never leave?”

The image flashes in your mind—you, naked and sweaty, covered in his cum and spit, completely at his mercy.

He doesn’t need a verbal answer to know the idea excites you. Little slut, he says, as your inner muscles tighten around him.

Joel pushes your hands above your head and presses his face into the exposed column of your neck. He stretches over you, trapping you under his heavy weight.

Even if this isn’t the first time you’ve been fucked—it is the first time you’ve been fucked like this. The sounds you make, whines, screams, pretty whimpers that have him holding you tighter and fucking you harder—it’s all new.

“Deep,” he whispers in your ear, “so goddamn deep.”

There’s something strangely intimate about this. He stays fully clothed, only giving you his bare cock to feel, while you lay beneath him, completely nude except for the thigh highs.

Joel, if that even is his name, is a complete stranger. Yet he pounds into you like he owns you.

His lips trail from your neck, licking the droplets of sweat that gather on your skin, leaving kisses on the corner of your mouth, uncaring of the drool from your gag.

Your thoughts jumble from the overstimulation and soon you’re sobbing, filled with his big cock, dominated by the sheer force of his entire being.

“So fuckin’ tiny,” Joel grunts, “take me cock, little girl. Take it, take it.”

His breathing becomes erratic and he thrusts harsher, hauling your thigh higher so he can move quicker. He’s close. It might be your mind playing tricks or, his cock could actually be swelling inside of you, ready to fill you with his cum.

His thumb swipes over your clit in fast circles and you ripple around his length, coming in sticky, wet spurts. Your scream, caught by surprise by the pressure of your orgasm. You tremble and cry in his hold, squeeze him hard enough that he groans in pain.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he mutters, “gonna make this pussy mine.”

And he does. Joel fills your clenching, little hole with his cum, spilling his seed in your unprotected womb. You remember too late that you’re no longer on birth control, but it’s no use. You have no way to stop him from painting your cunt white, so you let him make a mess inside of you.

His hips piston with enough force to sink you into the mattress. You’re not quite sure if your orgasm ever ended, but your cunt pulses with another wave as Joel fucks the rest of his spend inside of you.

“All full of me, little girl,” he murmurs, dropping down to lay partially on top of you.

You won’t be able to walk tomorrow, or maybe for the next few days. Your entire body feels sore and your mind is delirious.

Joel gently slides out of you and places a kiss on your chin. He unties the silk from your hands and removes the wet panties from your mouth. You hear him walk out of the room, but fall asleep before you’re able to drink the glass of water he brings you.

Joel’s POV.

He’s glad he followed Tommy’s advice and switched to a new escort agency.

The others aren’t usually so responsive or reactive to his touch. They’ll play along to his fantasy, throw out a few no, please stop, but it never feels real.

You’re different.

You kicked, scratched him, drew blood from his skin. It felt real, bringing out the primal side of him that he’s so desperately tried to repress.

Joel walks into the kitchen to grab you a glass of water and his phone, intending to order you food, when he sees an email from Sweet Angel Agency sent almost two hours ago.

Dear Mr. Joel Miller,

We apologize for the late notice but our Angel will not be able to make it to your residence tonight. We will be providing you with a full refund. Please wait 2-3 business days to see that reflected in your bank account.

For any further questions or to schedule another appointment, please contact us.

Thank you,

Sweet Angel Agency

“Who the fuck is in my bedroom?” Joel says after reading the email.

But as he walks back into the room and sees you spread out on his bed, your inner thighs soaked with your combined juices, marking your heated skin in white and clear streaks, Joel realizes he doesn’t really care.

He strips out of his sweaty clothes and climbs onto the bed with you. Now that he knows you aren’t from the agency, there’s no reason to let you go just yet.

- - -

a/n: i know there are probably a few fics out there with similar tropes however if anything in this one is similar in plot to another, it is purely by coincidence! i would never steal someone’s work and i appreciate each and every fic writer out there who does these for free and takes time out of their day to give us amazing fics 🤍

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

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mssalo · 23 days ago

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dirty old man

You were assigned as Joel Miller’s caretaker, but he’s a perverted old man who just can’t keep his hands off you. And the truth is, you don’t mind one bit—in fact, you want more.

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, age gap, caretaker f!reader, joel is a perverted old man (I imagine him around 60-70), reader in her 20s, ddlg dynamic, daddy kink, size difference, rough sex, explicit sexual content, power imbalance, perverted/dirty talk, oral (male receiving), dick riding, degradation, cum play, intense kink dynamics, hint at oral (f. receiving), cumming inside, reader loves herself some old man cock (same)

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You’d been assigned to Joel Miller by the government, part of a caretaker program for veterans and older men who couldn’t quite manage on their own anymore.

He wasn’t exactly the type to ask for help, but his injuries left him with no choice. And from the moment you walked through that door, something shifted between the two of you.

It had started innocently enough—you were just doing your job, helping him with the daily things, cooking, cleaning, making sure he took his meds.

But Joel? Joel was a different kind of man. He wasn’t just the gruff, quiet type; he was observant. He watched you—really watched you. At first, you tried to ignore it, the way his eyes lingered a little too long when you bent over, or how he’d mutter something dirty under his breath when you passed by, something you pretended not to hear but couldn’t stop thinking about later.

The first time he really crossed the line, it was subtle.

His hands would brush against your ass when you helped him up, fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary. His gaze would trail down your body as you walked by, slow and shameless.

And his words started to shift, the way he talked to you changed.

He wasn’t just thanking you anymore, he was complimenting you in a way that made your skin flush.

The things he said, the low, filthy edge in his voice, it did something to you. You could feel your resolve crumbling.

One night, when you were helping him undress for bed, he let his hands wander. It wasn’t accidental anymore -Joel was testing the waters, and you didn’t stop him.

His voice had been rough, low as he said, “You’re too good to me, sweetheart. A man like me doesn’t deserve someone as pretty as you takin' care of him.”

He’d leaned in that night, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered something filthy, something that made your heart race and your body heat up. And you couldn’t resist it.

You couldn’t resist him.

Joel Miller wasn’t just a job anymore—he was something more.

From that point on, it was impossible to stop. He seduced you slowly, his filthy words and rough hands becoming more familiar, more irresistible until you couldn’t help yourself.

You gave in, and now, here you were, fucking him every chance you got.

What started with stolen touches and whispered innuendos had turned into something wild, something neither of you could control anymore. Joel made you feel wanted in ways you hadn’t before, and he wasn’t shy about taking what he wanted from you.

Joel wasn’t a young man, but the way his hands gripped you, the way his cock filled you, stretched you, made it clear he could still make you weak at the knees. You made him feel things he thought were long gone, things he hadn’t felt in years—desire, hunger, lust.

It was like you’d unlocked something inside him, something primal and desperate, and now he couldn’t get enough of you.

And the way he talked to you, the dirty things that fell from his lips, made your heart race every time. He had no shame in telling you exactly what he wanted, exactly how to make him feel good.

· · ────

From the moment you walked into his life as his government-assigned caretaker, Joel couldn’t stop thinking about you. Not just thinking, but obsessing.

You were young, beautiful and far too fuckin` sweet. Completely out of place taking care of an old, worn-out man like him.

Yet here you were, every day, walking around his house in those tight little clothes, bending over to clean or reach for something, unknowingly driving him insane.

He’d resisted at first, or at least he told himself he did. But Joel was never a man of restraint, especially when temptation was sitting right in front of him, practically begging for it.

And damn if you didn’t start giving him that look—a mix of innocence and curiosity, like you knew exactly what you were doing, yet playing dumb, as if you didn’t feel the way his eyes lingered on you.

The sexual tension had built up so fast, it was like a fuse waiting to blow.

One night, after one too many "innocent" touches, the line between you two snapped. He pulled you into his lap, made you feel every inch of what you'd done to him, and you never looked back.

Now, this—this—was your new normal.

Every time you walked into the room, his cock was hard, his mind already in the gutter, thinking about what he’d do to you next.

Like now.

You were just cleaning up, wearing those simple jeans and that tight little tank top, nothing too revealing but still enough to make his cock twitch.

Joel sat back in his chair, his eyes following the way your hips swayed when you moved.

“Goddamn, sweetheart,” Joel muttered under his breath, the hunger clear in his voice. “You know exactly what you’re doin’, hm baby?”

His gaze narrowed as you bent over, your ass perfectly framed by the tight denim, the curve of your body practically inviting him.

Filthy thoughts swirled through his mind—thoughts of bending you over the nearest table, grabbing your hips, and fucking you so hard you’d be screaming his name.

You straightened up and caught him staring, giving him that innocent smile—the one that had him aching in his jeans.

You bit your lip, like you were playing shy, and it only made his cock throb harder.

“You okay over there, Joel?” you asked, your voice all sweet and playful like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing to him.

Joel shifted in his seat, making no effort to hide the obvious bulge in his pants. “I’m just fine, darlin’. But in fact, I think I could use a little help right now. A bath maybe?”

Your eyes widened slightly, but there was no surprise. You knew this game all too well. The way his voice dropped to that deep, gravelly tone that meant only one thing—he wanted you.

And Joel always got what he wanted.

“Come here,” he rumbled, patting his thigh, his eyes never leaving you. “Don’t make me wait.”

You hesitated, just for a moment, like you were still playing the role of the innocent caretaker. But you knew where this was heading.

Slowly, you walked over, standing right in front of him. Joel’s eyes drank in the sight of you, his gaze trailing up from your legs, over your hips, to the way your breasts strained against your tank top.

"Sit down," he commanded, patting his thigh again, this time more insistently.

You bit your lip, feigning innocence, but the look in your eyes said you knew exactly what you were about to do.

Slowly, you lowered yourself onto his lap, feeling the hard bulge of his cock pressing up against you through his jeans. Joel let out a low groan, his hands immediately finding your hips, pulling you down harder onto him.

"Fuck," he muttered, his voice a deep rasp. "That’s better. You feel that, baby? Feel what you do to me every fuckin’ day?”

You squirmed slightly in his lap, already feeling the heat building between your legs. Joel’s hands gripped your waist tighter, his fingers digging into your skin as he guided your hips, pressing you down onto his hard cock.

"You've been drivin' me crazy, darlin'," Joel growled, his breath hot against your neck.

“Ever since you started comin' here, wearin’ those tight little clothes, bendin' over right in front of me like you don’t know what you’re doin'. You’ve been teasin’ me, haven’t ya?”

Your breath hitched, and you didn’t answer, but Joel didn’t need you to. His hands slid up your sides, lifting your shirt just enough to feel the bare skin beneath his calloused palms.

“You’re a sweet little thing,” he muttered, his voice thick with lust.

“But I bet you like this, don’t ya? You like sittin' in an old man’s lap, grindin' on my cock like a good girl.”

You whimpered softly, your body already responding to his touch, the heat between your legs growing unbearable as he pulled you tighter against him.

His words were filthy, but the way he spoke made it clear—you were his, and he was going to take whatever he wanted.

"You’ve got all those boys your age starin' at you, darlin’? But here you are, sittin' on my cock. You want it, hm, baby?" Joel’s voice was low, his breath hot as his hands moved down, grabbing your ass, pulling you against him harder, the friction between you sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

“Feel how fuckin’ hard I am?” he growled, grinding his hips up into you, making sure you felt every inch of his cock pressing against your core. “This is what you do to me.”

His fingers slid between your legs, rubbing slow, teasing circles over the damp fabric of your jeans, right where you needed him most.

You gasped, grinding down against his hand, desperate for more. Joel chuckled darkly, his fingers pressing harder, his voice low and commanding.

“Goddamn, you’re already soaked, aren’t ya? Just from sittin’ in my lap. You like this? Bein' told what to do, bein' my good little girl. You’re gonna take care of me now, huh? That’s your job, isn’t it?”

His hand moved to the button of your jeans, and he popped it open with ease, sliding the zipper down slowly, teasingly, all the while his eyes never left yours.

His fingers dipped inside, brushing against your slick folds, and you let out a soft moan, your hips jerking against his hand.

"That’s it, sweetheart," Joel murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

"You’re gonna be a good little girl and take care of your daddy. You’ve been teasing me long enough. Now it’s time to do your damn job.”

His hand slid lower, fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that had you trembling in his lap. He growled low in his throat, his cock twitching beneath you as he watched you squirm.

"God, you’re fuckin’ perfect,” he muttered, his voice rough. “But this ain’t about you. You’re gonna make me feel good first. That’s what you’re here for, right?”

He gripped your hips again, pulling you down harder, his cock pressing right against your entrance. You could feel the thick, throbbing length of him through his jeans, and it only made you ache for more.

Joel’s eyes darkened as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Now, be a good girl and give your old man what he wants.”

You bit your lip, nervous and excited as you reached down, your hands trembling slightly as you brushed over the hardness straining beneath his boxers. His cock was thick and heavy in your hand as you pulled him free, the sight of him, so big and ready, making your mouth water.

Joel let out a low groan as you wrapped your fingers around him, your small hand barely able to take him fully. “That’s it, darlin’. Just like that,” he muttered, his hips jerking up slightly into your hand. “Fuckin’ perfect.”

Joel’s eyes darkened as he watched your small hand wrap around his thick, pulsing length.

The sight of it—his cock heavy and leaking in your grip—made something primal snap inside him.

His rough, calloused hands gripped your thighs tightly, holding you in place as you stroked him slowly, his hips jerking up, desperate for more of your touch.

“That’s it, darlin’. Fuck, you got such a small hand, hm? Barely fits around me,” he groaned, his voice low and filled with lust. His head fell back against the chair for a moment, lips parting as he watched you through hooded eyes.

But then, he shifted, grabbing your chin firmly with one hand and pulling your face closer "Now get on those healthy little knees and serve me."

You quickly followed his command.

“My sweet little obedient thing, hm? I want you to lick it. Clean.”

You hesitated for just a second, your heart racing in your chest, but the hunger in his eyes and the way his grip tightened on your chin had you leaning in closer, feeling his gaze burn into you as you knelt between his legs.

You could feel the heat of his cock against your lips before you even touched him, the scent of him intoxicating, thick with arousal.

Joels eyes were glued to the sight of you, looking so innocent yet holding him like you knew exactly what you were doing to him. His lips curled into a filthy, satisfied grin as he stared down at you, that dangerous gleam in his eye growing darker.

"That’s it, sweetheart," he murmured, voice low and dripping with lust.

"You got those pretty little lips all ready for me, don’t ya? Go on now, give your old man what he’s been waiting for."

You hesitated, your body trembling slightly under the weight of his gaze, but the excitement was undeniable.

You leaned forward slowly, your lips barely brushing against the head of his cock, and Joel growled low in his throat, his fingers threading through your hair, guiding you.

“Not like that,” he grunted, his grip tightening. “I want you to suck it. Get your mouth on me—every inch of it. Don’t be shy, baby. I want you to show me how much you wanna take care of your daddy."

Your breath hitched at his words, the intensity of his voice shooting straight through you. His demand was laced with control, and something deep inside you wanted nothing more than to please him.

You opened your mouth wider, wrapping your lips around the swollen head of his cock, letting your tongue swirl over the salty taste of him.

"Yeah, that's it," he growled approvingly.

"Good girl. Use that fuckin' tongue. I want you to lick me clean, just like that. You know how to treat your daddy’s cock, hm? Been thinkin' about it, haven’t you? Bein' my perfect little slut."

The filthy words spilling from his mouth sent a flush of heat through your body, your thighs pressing together as you sank deeper onto his length.

Joel’s hips bucked up slightly, forcing more of him into your mouth, and you could feel his cock twitching as you hollowed your cheeks, sucking him just like he wanted.

“Fuck, you’re so good with that mouth,” he groaned, his head tipping back as he thrust gently into your mouth, watching as your lips stretched around him. "Get it wetter, baby. I wanna see you drool. Let that spit drip down your chin."

You obeyed, sucking harder, letting your saliva coat him until it was dripping from your mouth, soaking his cock. Joel's fingers tightened in your hair, pulling you back for a moment, his cock sliding out of your mouth with a slick, wet sound.

“Look at that mess,” he growled, his voice thick with arousal. "Fuckin’ beautiful. But we ain’t done, darlin'. No, not yet."

He leaned forward slightly, his hand guiding your face closer to his balls.

“Now lick 'em,” he muttered, his voice low and commanding. “I want you to suck on them, baby. Get 'em nice and wet. Go on, clean up every inch of your daddy.”

Your breath caught in your throat at the lewd demand, but you were so far gone, so eager to please, that you didn’t hesitate.

Your tongue flicked out, gently running along the sensitive skin of his balls, and Joel groaned loudly, his body shuddering as you licked and sucked, just like he told you to.

“Good fuckin' girl,” he growled, his voice thick with need.

“You do whatever I tell you, yeah, baby? Such a sweet little thing, always takin' care of me. You know that’s your job, right? To make sure I’m feelin’ real good.”

You nodded, your lips wrapping around one of his balls, sucking gently as you massaged the other with your hand. Joel’s hips jerked slightly, his fingers still tangled in your hair, guiding your movements as he moaned deep in his chest.

"That’s it, baby," he rasped, voice rough. "Suck 'em. Show me how much you wanna be a good girl for your daddy."

Your body was trembling now, the heat between your legs growing unbearable as his filthy praise filled your ears. You sucked harder, letting your tongue swirl around him, your eyes flicking up to meet his.

Joel’s expression was dark, hungry, and the way he looked at you—like you were his to use—made your core clench with need.

He pulled you up suddenly, dragging you onto his lap, your body straddling him, the heat of his cock pressing against your soaked core. His hands gripped your waist tightly, his voice low and menacing as he whispered, "You think you're done, huh? We ain’t even started yet."

His eyes darkened as he looked down between your legs, the slickness of your arousal soaking through your panties. He reached down, his fingers brushing over the damp fabric, and smirked.

"So fuckin' wet already," he muttered. “I bet you’ve been dyin’ for this. You want your daddy to fill that tight little pussy again, hm?”

You whimpered, unable to form words as he pressed his fingers harder against your clit through your panties, teasing you mercilessly. His thumb circled your sensitive spot, making your hips jerk involuntarily, and Joel chuckled darkly.

“Fuckin' needy,” he muttered, pulling your panties to the side, exposing your slick folds. “Look at you, drippin' all over me. You need this cock, yeah, sweet girl?”

You nodded frantically, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as you felt the head of his cock nudging against your entrance. Joel grinned, that filthy, perverted grin you had come to crave, and slowly guided you down onto him.

As his thick length stretched you, filling you up inch by inch, he groaned loudly, his hands gripping your hips so tightly it almost hurt.

“That’s it, baby. Take every fuckin' inch. You’re mine. This is what you’re good for.”

His voice was rough, commanding, and it only spurred you on as you rode him, your body bouncing on his cock, every thrust sending waves of pleasure through you. Joel’s hands never left your body, guiding your movements, pulling you down harder, deeper.

“You feel my cock deep inside, little girl?” he growled, his voice thick with lust. “You’re fuckin' perfect, baby. So fuckin' tight around me. You’re takin' care of your daddy just like you should.”

Joel's grip on your hips was firm, pulling you down onto his cock with a rough, needy pace that made your breath hitch.

His body was tense beneath you, and the way his eyes darkened as they roamed over you—your breasts bouncing, your flushed face—made it clear how much he enjoyed watching you fall apart on top of him.

“Look at you, darlin’,” he rasped, his voice thick with arousal, rough around the edges. “Bouncin' on this old man's cock like you were made for it. You love it, baby? Bet you’ve never had anything like this, huh? Some young boy couldn’t fuck you the way I can. You need a real man, don’t ya? Someone who knows how to handle a sweet little thing like you.”

He leaned forward, his lips brushing against the soft skin of your chest before his mouth latched onto your nipple, sucking it hard while his other hand squeezed the other breast, rough but possessive.

His teeth grazed your sensitive skin, and the sharp mix of pain and pleasure sent jolts of electricity through your body.

“You got these perfect fuckin' tits,” Joel groaned against your skin, his breath hot, words dripping with filth.

“So young, so tight. You know what you're doin' when you wear those little tops around me, don’t ya? Teasin' me with this sweet body, just beggin’ to be fucked.”

Your moans filled the room as Joel’s tongue flicked across your nipple, his hand moving to your clit, his thumb pressing in slow, rough circles as he worked your body in tandem with the deep thrusts of his cock.

You could feel every inch of him stretching you, filling you completely, and it was overwhelming.

"Fuck, you’re so fuckin' tight," Joel grunted, thrusting deeper, his voice a low growl in your ear.

"This old man’s cock is fuckin' you so good, huh? Bet you never thought you’d be so desperate for someone like me. You need this—need me to fuck you the way no one else can. Tell me you love it, baby. Tell me how much you love havin' daddy’s cock inside you."

You gasped, your body shaking as his words only pushed you closer to the edge.

His hand gripping your ass, guiding you down harder, faster, as you rode him, the slick sound of your arousal making his grin widen even more.

He shifted his hips beneath you, hitting that perfect spot inside with every thrust, and you couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped your lips.

Joel’s grip tightened on your hips as he grinned up at you, watching the way your body shook with each rough thrust.

“Goddamn, you’re squeezin' me so tight,” he muttered, his thumb pressing harder on your clit.

“Look at how fuckin' wet you are. You’re drippin' all over me. I bet no one else has ever made you feel like this before, hm? Not like your daddy.”

You couldn’t answer—couldn’t find the words through the haze of pleasure that was overwhelming you.

But Joel didn’t care. He could see it in the way your body responded to him, in the way you moved on top of him, desperate for more.

“That’s it, baby,” he growled, his voice dark and filthy as he thrust up into you, hard and deep. “You’re gonna come for me, little one? Gonna come all over this cock, like the good little girl you are. You love havin' daddy take care of you, love bein' used like this.”

His words sent a shockwave of heat through you, your body trembling as you neared your release. Joel’s thumb circled your clit faster, his cock driving into you with brutal precision, hitting every sensitive spot inside you.

“You’re gonna take every fuckin' inch, baby,” he muttered, his voice thick with arousal. “You’re gonna take everything I give you. You want me to fill you up, don’t ya? You want daddy to come inside that tight little pussy.”

You moaned, your body shaking as you rode him harder, the pressure building inside you, every word pushing you closer to the edge. Joel’s grip on your hips was bruising, his breath hot against your ear as he growled, “Tell me you want it. Tell me you want this old man to fill you up.”

“Please, daddy,” you whimpered, your voice barely a whisper. “I need it. I need you to come inside me.”

Joel grinned, his eyes dark with satisfaction as his hips slammed up into you, his cock throbbing inside your tight heat. “That’s my girl. You’re fuckin’ perfect, baby. You love this cock. You love bein' filled up by me.”

With one final, deep thrust, Joel buried himself inside you, groaning as his cock twitched, his hot release spilling into you.

His grip on your hips tightened as he came, his breath ragged, his body shaking beneath you. The sensation of him filling you sent you over the edge, your own release crashing through you as your walls clenched around him, moaning as your body trembled, overwhelmed by the intensity of your orgasm.

Joel’s chest rose and fell in heavy, ragged breaths beneath you, his cock still buried deep inside as his hips gave one final lazy thrust, pushing the last of his release deeper into your tight, slick heat. His hands never left your body, sliding from your hips up your sides, gripping you possessively, like he couldn’t get enough of the feel of you wrapped around him.

“Fuck, baby,” he muttered, his voice thick with satisfaction, low and raspy in your ear. “Took it all inside, hm? So fuckin’ good for me. You were made for this—made to take every bit of me.”

He leaned back in the chair, eyes dark and hazy as he looked up at you, still straddling him, your body trembling slightly from the intensity of what just happened.

His rough hands slid up to your breasts again, squeezing them possessively, his thumbs brushing over your nipples as he let out a low, satisfied grunt.

“You feel that, darlin’?” Joel whispered, his breath still hot against your neck, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You’re full of me now, all stuffed with my cum. That’s what you wanted, huh? Bein' filled up by your old man, just like a good girl.”

You shuddered slightly, his words sending a lingering spark through your body. It wasn’t just the way he took you—it was the way he owned you with every filthy word, every possessive touch.

And even now, after everything, he wasn’t letting you go. His hands continued to roam your body, lazy and deliberate, as if reminding you that you were his.

Joel chuckled lowly, almost smug, the sound vibrating through his chest as his fingers trailed up your spine, making you shiver.

“You do your Job so well, darlin’,” he said, voice filled with dark satisfaction, like he was proud of you, like you’d done exactly what you were meant to.

“Gotta say, this old man didn’t think he had it in him anymore. But fuck, you make me feel like a man again. Ain't no one else who could take care of me like you do.”

His fingers traced idle patterns over your skin as he kept you close, his cock still warm and softening inside you. He grinned, looking you up and down, his eyes gleaming with the satisfaction of knowing how much control he had over you.

“You thought you were just gonna come here and help me out, take care of the house, huh?” Joel’s voice was teasing now, low and gravelly.

“But you’ve been takin' care of me in ways no one else could. Every time I see you, I wanna fuck you. Can’t help it, baby. You’ve got me fuckin' addicted.”

You shifted on top of him, still feeling the heat between your legs, the mess of him inside you, and you let out a soft whimper as his cock twitched in response.

Joel chuckled darkly, his hands gripping your ass firmly, pulling you down against him again, keeping you pressed tight against his body.

“You ain’t goin' anywhere,” he muttered, his tone possessive. “You belong to me. You know that, right? There’s no one else who’s gonna fuck you like this, make you feel like this.”

His words hung in the air, thick and heavy, and you knew he meant them.

Joel wasn’t just some old man you were assigned to look after anymore—he’d taken something from you, claimed you, and now you were his in every sense of the word.

He grinned up at you, his eyes still filled with that dark hunger, even after everything. His hands slid up to your waist again, pulling you down for another lazy grind, his cock still nestled inside you.

The sensation made your body tremble again, and Joel noticed, his grin widening.

“You keep takin' care of me like this, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a low rasp.

“And I’ll make sure you’re never wantin’ for anything else. You’ll always have me to fuck you, fill you up just like you need. You like that, don’t ya? Bein’ mine, lettin’ me use this tight young little body whenever I want.”

You nodded weakly, still trying to catch your breath, your body pliant under his grip. He chuckled again, a deep, satisfied sound that made your core clench around him, even as you sat there, exhausted from the intensity of it all.

“That’s my good girl,” Joel whispered, his voice a low growl. “Always doin' what you’re told. Now, you keep sittin' on daddy’s cock for a while longer. Let me enjoy how fuckin' perfect you feel.”

And so you stayed there, Joel’s hands still possessive on your body, his cock still nestled inside you as the minutes passed.

You knew this was how things were going to be for a while—him using you whenever he wanted, taking what he needed. But the truth was, you couldn’t get enough of it either.

The way he made you feel, the filthy dominance in his voice, the way his rough hands claimed every inch of you—it was intoxicating.

You were hooked, just like him.

You shifted on his lap, your breath finally steadying as the intensity of the moment began to settle. But even as your body started to relax, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Joel’s hands still possessively gripping your waist, holding you there, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

A small, teasing smile tugged at your lips as you looked down at him, his cock still buried inside you, the heat of his body pressing against yours.

“You might like keeping me here all day, old man,” you murmured, your voice soft but playful, “but now I need to get up, cook, and get you your meds.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, that familiar smirk spreading across his face. “My meds, huh?” he muttered, clearly amused, his voice still gravelly and low. “Hell, I think this right here’s better than any meds they could give me.”

His hands tightened on your hips for a moment, pulling you down one last time, making sure you felt the last bit of his cock buried deep before he finally let you move.

“But go on, sweetheart,” he said, his tone a mix of teasing and command. “You do what you gotta do. I’ll be right here, waitin’ for you to come back and take care of me again.”

You rolled your eyes, gently pushing yourself off his lap, feeling the mess of him still inside you as you stood up. As you turned to head toward the kitchen, Joel's hand shot out and smacked your ass, hard enough to make you yelp in surprise.

The sharp sound of his palm connecting with your skin echoed through the room, making your breath hitch, and you couldn’t help but grin, your body responding despite yourself.

“Still fuckin' got it, don’t I, sweet girl?” Joel growled, his smirk widening as his eyes roamed over your body while you walked away, his gaze dark and lingering.

“And don’t take too long, darlin’. I plan to have that sweet pussy on my tongue ‘til I pass out.”

You glanced over your shoulder, flashing him a playful smirk, your hips swaying a little more, knowing he was watching every move.

“You’ll survive a few minutes, won’t you? You are still the strong, stubborn old man you claim to be.”

Joel chuckled, low and rough, leaning back in his chair, the smug look on his face unwavering. “Yeah, yeah. Get that pretty little ass in the kitchen. But you keep me waitin’ too long…” His voice dropped to a dangerous murmur.

“And I’ll be comin’ after you to drag you back here myself.”

You could feel Joel’s eyes on you the entire time as you walked away, that smoldering, hungry gaze burning into your back.

The heat between you two was almost unbearable, thick and heavy, making every step feel slower than it should.

Joel might be older, but the way he looked at you, the way he commanded every moment, made it clear that age hadn’t dulled his hunger—especially when it came to you.

And you knew exactly what he wanted.

Hell, you didn’t even need his words to know. He had a taste for you, an obsession he couldn’t shake. It was the same routine nearly every night.

He’d pull you into his lap, his strong hands gripping your thighs, his voice a low growl as he told you to strip down because he wasn’t going to bed until he had your sweet cunt on his tongue.

You’d try to get things done around the house, but it was useless. Joel was insatiable.

“Come here, darlin’,” he’d say, like clockwork, his lips curling into that filthy grin.

“You know I’m not sleepin’ till I’ve had my fill.” And before you could even respond, his mouth would be on you, licking and sucking until your body shook with pleasure, his deep moans vibrating against your sensitive skin.

Just last night, you had barely made it through the doorway when he had pulled you to the bed, laying you down and spreading your legs before you could even catch your breath. "Goddamn, baby," he’d muttered between long, slow licks, "I’ll never get enough of this pussy."

And he hadn’t stopped until you were trembling, spent, your fingers gripping his hair as he kept going, like he couldn’t pull himself away.

You knew tonight would be no different. His need for you was constant, his desire always burning just below the surface.

And, truth be told, you loved it. The way he made you feel—like you were the only thing that mattered in the world—had you hurrying to get back to him.

You craved the way he devoured you, the way he worshipped you with his mouth, as much as he craved you.

As you finished up in the kitchen, your heart pounded with anticipation. You knew Joel was waiting, his eyes still lingering on the thought of burying his face between your thighs.

You hurried, eager to crawl back into his lap, knowing exactly what was coming next—his rough, possessive hands and that filthy mouth, reminding you again just how much he couldn’t get enough of you.

And, if you were being honest, you craved it just as much—craved the way he claimed every inch of you with his cock, fingers or mouth - making you feel like you were the only thing that could ever satisfy him.

Your favorite old pervert.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

I fear.... I want him biblically....

I`d LOVE to write many dirty scenes with these two, would y'all like that?

Stay tuned - thank you so much for reading and I would love to read your opinions!!

xoxo

2K notes · View notes

mermaidgirl30 · 1 month ago

Text

✨Fall Into the Dark With Me✨

Dark Arts Professor! Joel Miller x Herbology Professor Fem! reader

A/N: I have had this idea for the longest time to mix the two things I love the most together. I hope you love it as much as I do! Hogwarts AU with Joel Miller was the best idea I’ve had in a while. He is an absolute menace in this, and I love him very much 🥰 Thank you to @jennaispunk for beta reading!

Summary: You’ve had your eyes on the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor for a while. Just like he’s had his eyes on you. He’s a sly, sneaky, teasing Slytherin, and you’re a shy, meek Hufflepuff. Will your little flirting game suddenly lead to more once he gets you alone in a room?

Rating: Explicit 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 7.9k

Tags: Slytherin! Joel, Hufflepuff! reader, relentless teasing, flirting, pining, Joel is a menace, no use y/n, Hogwarts AU, Joel has a dirty mouth, oral (fem! receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, porn with plot, Harry Potter spells and references, no outbreak au, Dark Arts! Joel

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

August blew in as fast as the hot summer breeze slipped out of reach. No more cozy afternoons curled up on your plush couch with your cat. You were back to big green open lands, back to the scents of willow trees and butterbeer, back to Hogwarts. Home for the next school year.

The thing was, you weren’t prepared for what awaited you behind those grand castle walls this semester, not even a little bit. You weren’t prepared for him.

Joel Miller, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, the absolute bane of your existence. Ever since you locked eyes with him that first time in the Great Hall, you couldn’t get those gorgeous brown irises out of your head.

He was a menace; you could just tell. You knew the moment you saw that smug smirk on his face, those tousled grey flecked curls you could lace your fingers through, that patchy salt-and-pepper beard that you imagined might feel so good trailing down the skin of your neck with plush lips teasing across your body.

It was the way he carried himself. Like he owned every single damn room he walked into. Button-up silky shirts that he rolled up to his elbows, exposing those long, corded veins that skated down his tanned forearms. But let’s not forget the emerald snake tattoo that slithered its way around his forearm, accentuating the tanned skin that glowed almost golden under the warm, sunlit skies. Marking his Slytherin blood with ink. And those hands. Big, thick fingers that he’d wrap around his dark brown dragon heartstring wand as he chanted spells inside his classroom. And the way his eyes always seemed to shift toward yours in a crowded room. Those dark brown coffee-colored eyes that seemed to put you under a hypnotic spell.

He was trouble. You knew it, too.

It all started that first day, after that first heated stare at the sorting ceremony. He couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off you for the entire night. He didn’t hide it either. And then it was the casual grazing of hands in crowded halls, the flirtatious smiles and winks across the dining hall, the small conversations in the outside gardens as he’d slip a green apple from his pocket and slowly take a bite out of it. His eyes never leaving yours as they devoured you. Just like you’d wish he’d do to your skin, your lips, your flustered core.

He knew what he was doing, he knew damn well.

It was just a flirtatious banter between a tall, handsome Slytherin and a shy, gentle Hufflepuff. One a Dark Arts professor, the other a Herbology professor. It was only casual conversations and the occasional grazing of hands. Until it wasn’t.

No. Then he started taunting you, playing petty games. The hard-to-get kind of games.

One of the assistant professors, Priscilla Wilson, would always try to get attention from Professor Miller. Finding any reason to reach over and brush her fingers over his broad shoulders. Flip her long, fiery red hair, bat her long eyelashes, giggle every time he gives in to her flirting and winks over at her, making her nearly fall out of her seat. And every single time he’d entertain her, he’d look your way and fucking smirk at you.

Fucking smirk.

Smug bastard. You just want to slap the stupid smirk off his face, but you also just really want to fucking kiss it off.

You’re so royally fucked.

He loves to tease you. Loves to put you right on the edge where you’ll either lash out and call him on his bluff, or just scoff and brush it off your shoulder like a Cornish Pixie.

He knows damn well it gets you all flustered. Cheeks red, hot breath blowing from your mouth, pursed lips as he smirks your way while other women fawn over him. Drool practically hanging from their gawking mouths. You can practically feel the pride he wears inside that broad chest of his. Brown eyes narrowed while he dares you to do anything about it. He knows you won’t. Knows you’re better than to give in to his little tricks. So you just take it and stomp out of the room. Every single time while his devious chuckle floats through the room, right into your ears.

Well, he’d gotten into your head long ago. You gave in to the temptation of his smoldering brown eyes, the playful smirks that curl across his plush lips, that fucking Southern accent that drives you up the walls when you’re in your bed late at night.

He’s poisoned you. Enchanted you with his cunning Slytherin ways. Handsome, ambitious, prideful, strong, mischievous, smoldering. That’s exactly why you slip your hand under the cool sheets night after night. Fingers curling up inside you, thumb stroking light circles over your needy clit, moaning his name, pretending that it’s him under your sheets taking you over the edge.

His hands, his fingers, his filthy words, his mouth, his cock, his everything giving you orgasm after orgasm. And when you’re finished, sweat coating every inch of your skin, you feel breathless and dirty.

This is what he wants. You all hot and bothered for him. Well, he won because you’re already completely smitten for the Slytherin man.

And one day, he’ll give in to you, too.

The cool air whips past your hair as students shuffle by in the busy hall, rushing so they won’t be late to their classes. Large, cascading open windows filter sunlight through the massive hallway, historical paintings fill the stone walls, towering archways pave every corner, wafts of autumn leaves and pumpkins marinate through the air.

Hogwarts is peaceful, and this place is magical.

As the last of the students disappear down corridors and hurry into classrooms, you’re suddenly alone in the hallway. No noise except for the classroom in front of you. But it’s not just any classroom.

It’s the Dark Arts classroom. Joel’s classroom.

You lean against the stony wall, wait until all the students quiet down. Eventually, Joel shuts them up and then there’s nothing but his deep, Southern drawl filling the room, filtering out just enough in the hall for you to sit and listen.

You do this often. More like every other day. Sitting outside his classroom, listening to his melodic voice teaching about his passion. He’s always had a love for the Dark Arts and now, so do you.

As you lean against the edge of the doorway, back against the stone-covered wall, you seem to get lost in the deep drawl of his voice like an enchanted siren. You could listen to him for hours on end. He’s good at what he does. Smart, cunning, brilliant.

And by brilliant, you mean he’s wiser than some of the ghosts that lurk these castle corridors. Some people even whisper that he can speak Parseltongue. And you don’t doubt it for one second. The man would open the Chamber of Secrets if someone would let him.

But Joel doesn’t need permission from anyone. He does what he wants, when he wants, and who he wants. You just wish that someone was you.

You sigh as you lean against the wall, panting every time he starts lecturing on different subjects about the Dark Arts. Today, he’s teaching about werewolves. And that is a subject you happen to find quite fascinating.

“Miss Flora, can you tell me how—.”

You shift your weight and lose your balance, almost tumbling to the polished floor until you grab ahold of the silver-edged door and stop yourself.

The classroom grows silent and so does Joel’s bravado voice.

Shit. You just got caught red handed.

“Think we’ve got a straggler out in the hall. Think they should come in. Don’t you, students?” You hear the smirk in his voice. Like he knows it’s you. But how would he know…

Oh, right. Because he’s the smartest fucking professor at this school.

When he clears his throat, you know you won’t be able to weasel your way out of this one. So, you take a hesitant step into the entrance of his classroom, and there he is. Big brown eyes narrowed just slightly and a smug smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth.

God, he’s so good looking.

“Ahh. Professor. Care to join us?” he asks, stepping around his mahogany desk, tapping the tip of his dragon heartstring wand against the top of his thigh.

That’s all it takes to have you weak in the knees. Because the way he’s looking at you tells you everything you need to know. He wants to pull your strings, make you shiver, make you pliable. And now’s the perfect opportunity where he can fluster you up without even fucking touching you.

Shit.

“Take a seat,” he says, nodding to an open seat at the back of the room.

You shake your head and take a step back, careful not to look straight into his brown eyes. “Oh, no. I shouldn’t interrupt. I was just—.”

“Sit. Down.” It’s not a question but a demand.

You purse your lips and take the empty seat while several of the students snicker and whisper to each other.

Great. Now you’re really blushing.

You take a look around the classroom while Joel continues his lesson, flicking his wand to turn to the next slide overhead. The room is dim, curtains drawn so only the floating candles and twinkling lights from hanging lamps fill the room. A dragon’s skeleton is displayed in the back of the room, his mahogany desk covered in neat papers, dark artifacts, and ink quills. Banners of the forbidden forest and creatures of the black lake are spread high across the elegant stone walls. A dusty chandelier with glittering crystals tops off the room, painting golden sparkles on the ceiling.

The room is very him. Dark, divine, mysterious, gorgeous. It even fucking smells like him. Cedar wood, mahogany, green apples, whiskey. The room has his trademark all over it.

You sit back against the wooden chair and watch the way he commands a room. The slight flick of his wand every time he paces back and forth, his rapt attention each time a student answers or asks a question, the way his thick fingers glide through his tousled curls, the way his gaze always seems to come back to you.

Werewolf facts slip from his tongue. Their history, their patterns, their targets. One of your favorite creatures to learn about. Especially when it’s coming from him and his deep, magnetic voice.

It’s like the room turns ten degrees hotter with every minute that passes. Sweat pricks behind the back of your neck, your thighs warm as you cross a leg over your knee, your black skirt of your dress hiking up a little too high, your heart thundering against your chest.

You’re a fucking mess because you’re watching him. Twitching, jittering, and shifting every other minute in your seat. He fucking loves to watch you squirm, too. You can see him smirking from the front of the classroom, and it’s all for you.

“Can anyone tell me what’s the cure for a werewolf bite?” he asks, pacing the room back and forth, eyeing each student with a patient glance.

His footsteps echo around the cascading room, his hands behind his back, a slight tick in his jaw when no one answers.

“There’s a cure?” one of the students questions, heads whipping around to face the baffled third year with confusion written all over her innocent face.

“Yes,” Joel says with a clipped tone. “C’mon. Think. What two things can cure a werewolf bite?”

Nothing. Not even a peep comes from the copious amount of students in the room. Just eyes to the ground and awkward shifting in their seats. None of them know.

“Collin?” Joel asks, standing in front of the blonde boy’s chair. His scared blue eyes give away that he’s intimidated and doesn’t know the answer.

“Umm. I—ugh. Gillyweed?” he guesses, lifting his hopeful eyes when he thinks he may be right.

“No,” Joel snaps. “Gillyweed allows you to breathe underwater. It does not cure a werewolf bite. Maybe read the text next time before class and then you’d know.” Joel narrows his eyes at Collin, and the scared third year looks down in shame.

God. He really intimidates everyone. Doesn’t he?

“Think. What. Cures. The. Bite.” He accentuates every syllable, draws it out with a deep growl, narrows his eyes into thin slits when nobody can answer. He looks like he’s about to snap with how tight he’s holding his wand. But before he does, you decide to answer.

“Silver and dittany,” you respond, and then the students turn with wide eyes. Right in your direction. You slide down in your chair just a little to alleviate the embarrassment of all eyes on you.

Joel turns to you and smirks, his eyes turning darker with every second that ticks by. It’s like he’s staring right through your soul, sucking it out until every single bit belongs to him.

“Clever girl,” he whispers. Just loud enough for you to hear because it was meant directly for you, not the class. His eyes flash onyx as he stares your way, heat rising in your cheeks. But in the next second, his eyes are elsewhere.

“Could learn a thing or two if you paid attention to your professor in Herbology,” he growls, the closed windows rumbling as his deep voice booms through the large corridor. It’s enough to make goosebumps prickle down the length of your arms.

The students shake and quiver in their seats, eyes casted down to the dark material of the floor. And in the next five minutes, Joel’s dismissing them.

“Remember, read chapters ten through twelve before the end of the week. And for the love of Salazar, pay attention in your classes. All of them. Class dismissed,” he clips, teeth bared and jaw clenched.

The students hurry and filter out of the classroom, black robes flying as they scurry off out of the wrath of Professor Miller.

As you get up to make your way out to the hall, he stops you. “Not you.” His deep voice sends shivers down your spine.

You freeze, just a few feet from the doorway. And then he takes his wand and shuts the heavy doors with a bang that makes you jump from the sound.

Alone. You’re alone with him. In his classroom, on his free hour. And suddenly, the room is stifling.

“So. You like to listen in on my lessons now, don’t ya?” he asks, crossing his strong arms over his broad chest, large biceps clinging to the white button-up shirt, his green striped tie loose around his neck.

“I—uhh.” You’re all of a sudden completely speechless as he stands in front of you, his woodsy scent making you dizzy with need.

“You don’t gotta play coy, sweetheart. Know you sit out there listenin’ all the time,” he smiles, flashing his white teeth and making you blush at the name sweetheart.

His Southern drawl always made you a little worked up.

“Why didn’t you say anything then if you knew?” you ask, eyebrows threaded together, lips pursed tight.

“Figured I’d jus’ let ya indulge. If you know what I mean,” he smirks, giving you a seductive wink that sends heat to your cheeks.

He’s always so fucking cunning. Quick comebacks that could send you down to your knees. Maybe that’s what he wants.

“You’re unbelievable. You know that?” you spit, hands on your hips, waiting for him to say something smart back.

“Am I?” He quirks a brow, steps closer where you can practically taste his strong cologne. And that’s it. You’re so done for.

“Yes.” You stand your ground firm. Eyes icy as you look at his fiery ones.

Jesus. The man could burn this entire castle down with one stare.

“How so?” he asks curiously, eyeing you with heightened interest.

“Why don’t you ask Priscilla? You know, since she’s always hanging around you.” You roll your eyes, shake your head, and throw your hair behind your shoulders with a glare. Like that’ll show him you mean business.

“Don’t do that,” he says quietly, brown eyes trained on you.

“Don’t do what?” you ask, anger boiling on the back of your tongue.

“Stop bein’ fuckin’ jealous,” he growls, his large hands hovering over yours, heat simmering between the small space between the two of you. Just like a sweltering sauna. You can practically feel the flames licking at your skin. All over you.

“Then stop flirting with her right in front of me,” you glower, eyes narrowed and teeth bared. He just laughs at you like you just said the funniest joke in the world. He can’t be fucking serious.

“You know I only do it to get a rise out of you,” he smiles, painting your cheeks crimson at how smitten you feel when you see that deep dimple appear in the corner of his left cheek when he’s smiling. But nevertheless, he’s not getting off that easy. Not today, at least.

“Oh, don’t I fucking know,” you scoff, your heel digging into the hard surface of the floor. Showing just how much he’s getting under your skin.

“You know, you’re pretty adorable when you’re all flustered. You know that?” He brushes the back of his palm against your jawline, barely touching you but setting you completely on fire.

You bat his hand away, fix him with a tight-lipped scowl. “Flustered? That’s why you torture me day after day?”

He nods his head and smirks, letting his big ego fly around the room like a barn owl. “Mhm. Like you all worked up. Probably makes you all hot and bothered, doesn't it? Bet you touch yourself at night jus’ thinkin’ of me.” And there’s that damn smirk. The one that’s got your stomach all tied in knots.

“You’re such an asshole,” you scoff as you push at his broad chest, but he barely moves an inch. He’s like a thick brick wall that you just can’t seem to penetrate. No matter what you do.

“You fuckin’ love it, though,” he challenges, brown eyes turning into dreamy bedroom eyes.

No, you’re not doing this. You’re not playing his game.

“No. And I’m leaving.” You turn with the flip of your hair, stomping your way up the row of empty desks. And when your hand wraps around the gold-threaded doorknob, you feel the faint buzz of power permeate around your body.

“The hell you are,” he growls. “Accio!”

It feels like an invisible string wraps around your entire body, and suddenly you’re being pulled back by a sharp tug. Your body whisks through the air, and you have no power to stop the force.

He snakes his arms around your waist, tugging you against his broad chest, catching you before you go flying into his lavish desk. You gasp, the air knocked from your lungs as his warm breath fans over your lips. Green apples and whiskey serenade your senses, and suddenly you’re a ragdoll in his arms. There at his beck and call, whatever he needs. You’re done for.

“That’s cheating,” you whisper, voice barely audibly as your throat closes up the closer he brings you against his large body.

“It ain’t cheatin’. It’s called magic, sweetheart,” he winks, making an exaggerated groan pull from your lips.

He’s always so smooth. Like a cold glass of neat whiskey that runs straight to your stomach, ending in your core.

“What are you doing, Joel?” you sigh, giving up the fight. You stop shoving against him and relax, your body still against his.

“Givin’ in,” he smiles, wrapping his arms tighter around your waist, one hand hovering against your lower back. Right at the end of the zipper of your dress.

“Like you gave into Priscilla?” you spit out, narrowed eyes trained right on him. You’d love to give him a taste of his own medicine one of these days. Drive him crazy like he drives you mad every single fucking day.

“Now hold on there,” he says with a pause, sliding one of his hands up to your wrist, holding it tight against his chest. “I never even laid a finger on Priscilla.”

Your jaw drops, and you wag a finger at him. “You sure about that? Because she has a pretty loud mouth.”

“She ain’t the one I want, sweetheart. And you should know that.” He fixes you with a deep stare. His eyes look like glowing, syrupy orbs. You’re pretty sure you want to get lost in them. Let them drag you down into their dark depths where you’ll never see daylight again.

“Oh? And who is it that you want?” you whisper, voice suddenly shaky and nervous.

When he nods down toward you, you nearly crumble at his feet. “The only woman I wanna be touchin’ is the pretty Hufflepuff that’s all flustered in my arms.” His smile makes you lose your balance, but he just holds you tighter. Fingers curling against the soft cotton of your dress, burning your skin even from the layers that cover you.

He might as well cast Incendio on you. You’re already burning.

“You’re such a tease,” you giggle, pushing him playfully in the chest, letting the soft fabric of his shirt cling to your skin.

“That I am,” he chuckles, making you nearly hyperventilate at his cocky demeanor. He knows he’s slick; you’ll give him that.

“I need to get to class,” you sigh, trying to break free of his grip, but he only holds you tighter. No escaping him.

“No, you don’t. You don’t have class for another hour. And neither do I.”

The sudden realization hits you like an oncoming train. He’s got you trapped in his web, ready to sink his teeth in you at any second.

The dim lights seem to darken even more as the thick tension blows through the classroom. Silence takes over, and you’re left with nothing but your racing heartbeat and his shallow breath. Warmth pools through your core as you watch those smoldering brown eyes light your skin on fire.

You’re wrecked.

“Well, I just—.” You try to take a step back, but then his hands run down your arms slowly, goosebumps taking hold in every single place he leaves his mark.

“Why don’t you jus’ relax here for a bit? Can think of somethin’ to unwind that pretty mind of yours.”

He starts slowly circling you. Calloused fingers running over your back. Warm breath blowing down the base of your neck. Lips brushing against the shell of your ear, causing you to gasp at the contact.

“I don’t think so, Joel. I—.” You stop talking the moment he moves your hair across your right shoulder. His lips drag down the side of your neck, barely grazing but enough to make warmth flood through your lace.

“C’mon now. Know you want this. Know you want my touch.” He takes a hand and moves it around the front of your waist. “My fingers.” He brushes his hand lightly down your leg, dangerously close to your inner thigh. “My lips.” He molds his mouth around your collarbone and sucks, eliciting a moan from your lips.

“Oh. That’s… oh.” He nips at your shoulder, pulling your sleeve down just enough to make contact with your skin. And fuck, it feels good.

You want to run, say no, give him hell for the hell he’s given you. But you’re a moth drawn to the flame. And you have no will to say no to him.

“Give in, sweetheart. Give in to the dark side. Know you want to,” he whispers in the shell of your ear, leaving you breathless as the sweet incantations put a spell on you.

“I uhh—yes…” you lull as he turns you around and pushes you back into the front of his desk. His large stature towering over you. Hands on either side of the desk, caging you into him.

“Say it. Say you want this. That you want me.” His mouth hovers over yours, blows hot air where you can basically taste the whiskey that encompasses his tongue. And you feel it then. That thick bulge against your thigh. Letting you know just how hard he is for you. And fuck, you think you might pass out from how stifling the room is now.

“I—.” He slowly cups the back of your thighs and lifts you up, right on the edge of his mahogany desk, legs dangling from the position. He takes his wand and starts spreading your legs until he’s standing between them, one hand skimming over the top of your shaking thigh. Then he throws his wand to the side of the desk, uses his hands to undress you. Starting with your skirt. He lifts it slowly over your hips, leaving you with your white lace panties exposed to the cool air, completely soaked through.

He rakes a hand heavily down his mouth, eyes wide as he stares at the mess you’ve made. “Look at you. Fuckin’ soakin’ for me, sweetheart. This all for me?” he asks, his thumb brushing over your wet center, pressing against your slick-clothed folds.

“Yes,” you whine as he slowly unzips the back, pushing the dress down until it’s a messy pile on the floor. He unclasps the matching lace bra, throwing that to the side, leaving your perky breasts on full display for him to indulge in.

He licks his bottom lip seductively slow, practically drooling as he takes in the sight of you all sprawled out and bare for him. He’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life than the vision of you open and ready for him.

His mouth drags down your throat, down your chest until his lips suctions to your breasts, tongue flicking the pebbled nipples, eliciting more slick in your lace panties.

“Say you want this, sweetheart. Say you want me,” he breathes, slowly dropping to his knees like he’s worshiping a goddess, hands roaming up your inner thighs, teasing you relentlessly. He slips under your lace, one finger brushing over your clit. You’re a writhing mess beneath him at this point.

“Oh, fuck. Yes. Want you. Need you, Professor Miller,” you mewl, bucking your hips up to get the friction you so desperately need.

“Good girl,” he praises, slowly dragging your ruined lace to the floor, leaving you open and bare and dripping for him.

“Fuck,” he curses, raking a hand down his scruff, eyes lust-blown as he takes you in nice and slow. He’s mesmerized by the beauty before him, and he’s memorizing every single detail about your glistening body. He thinks you’re a fucking angel. All pliant and ready for him. He’ll have you screaming his name in no time.

From the carnal, possessive way he’s looking at you, you’re pretty sure he’ll save this memory for another time. Bottle it up so he can go back and watch it over and over again, until he sees nothing but you with every waking breath he breathes.

He materializes in front of you, casting dark shadows all over the silhouette of the walls, tongue dragging up your inner thigh, his thumb teasing the outer edge of your drenched folds.

“Fuck, Joel,” you mewl, bucking your hips up in the hopes of his lips landing on your mound.

“Patience, baby. And call me Professor Miller. Love how it sounds falling off your pretty lips,” he chuckles, tongue barely scraping over your needy clit.

You suck in a breath and grab the crown of his head, locking your fingers in his soft hair. Tousled sandy locks and glittering greys catching the light of the twinkling lamps floating in the room. He looks like a masterpiece.

“Please, Professor Miller. Need you,” you beg, his hot breath fanning across your aching core. You’re burning for him.

“Yeah ya do. Dirty little Hufflepuff,” he chuckles, blowing a puff of warmth over your mound. Slick runs down your inner thighs, and his eyes blow into deep pools of black lust. “Think you might have a little Slytherin in you after all,” he smirks, gliding his thumb through your slick folds and eliciting a high-pitched whine from your mouth.

“Slyther—ohhh,” you groan as he licks a thick stripe up the entirety of your core.

Suddenly, the room is spinning, and you can’t find your balance. You’ll just fall off the edge as long as Joel catches you. You think he will.

“That’s right. Take it. Let the temptation consume you. Let me slither in and make you come undone,” he drawls out in a husky breath, making you moan at the sound of his deep timbre.

It’s like you’re cast under a deep spell. Pulling you under, consuming you in copious amounts of pleasure, starlight flashing as your eyes roll back with every flick of his tongue to your puffy clit.

He tugs you to the very edge of the smooth desk and wraps his arms tightly around your thighs, stretching you open as he ravishes and drowns in the slick of your core. His experienced tongue lapping at your folds. His lips suction around your mound as he pulls you into his warm mouth, sucking and groaning with every taste of you.

You drag your nails over the wooden desk, throwing your head back with every lick, every taste he gives you. And God, you feel like you’re flying. His mouth, his tongue, his dirty words, his whole entire aura make you want to lose control. He’s everything all at once, and you don’t know how you’ll ever get enough of him now.

He coaxes you on, filling your ears with delicious praises. “Atta fuckin’ girl. Yeah, you like that. Don’t you, filthy Hufflepuff?”

“Yeah…” you choke out, voice raspy as you delve into the feeling of his smooth tongue igniting a wildfire in your core.

“Don’t be shy then, sweetheart. Let me hear you,” he demands as he lets go of your puffy clit with a pop, his tongue generously lapping at your drenched folds.

“The door—we can’t…” you whine.

He lifts off his knees, hovers his body against yours, and starts to work you as he slides his middle and ring finger inside your dripping hole.

Oh, fuck.

“Door’s locked tight, sweetheart,” he smirks, lust-blown eyes locked on you, his lips brushing over yours.

“They’ll—ohh. They’ll hear us.” His free hand slides up your waist as his body leans against the desk, his mouth roaming up the crook of your neck.

“Nah, they won’t. Not when I placed a silencing charm on the room,” he chuckles as his tongue traces the slope of your ear, sending more slick down your thighs.

Of course he fucking did. You didn’t even hear him cast one. He’s just… that good.

“C’mon, messy Hufflepuff. Want you to come for me,” he drawls, his fingers tantalizing and penetrating as he works them nice and slow inside you, knuckles deep in your slick.

Fuck.

Squelching noises fill the room each time he works you over, searching for that one spot that’ll send you over the edge. But God, he found it. And now, he won’t fucking stop hitting that spongy wall that makes your legs shake and voice cry out in orgasmic pleasure.

“Joel, I’m…”

“Professor,” he whispers in your ear, his enchanting voice floating through your mind, pulling you over the edge.

“Professor—” you hum, your fingers pushing through the sandy hair at the base of his neck, mouth dropped as pleasure starts to rock through you uncontrollably.

“Yes?” he asks with a bite to his deep voice.

“I—I’m…”

His plush lips caress the shell of your ear, his teeth nipping at the delicate skin. “Come for me, pretty girl. Say my name. Tell me who makes you feel good,” he whispers deliciously slow, his melodic voice making you fall apart. “Let go. C’mon, baby. Do it for me.”

One more curl of his fingers and you’re coming undone. You clench around his thick fingers and let yourself spill for him, covering his knuckles in your slick while you moan his name. “Professor Miller!” It falls off your tongue and rings around the room, echoing back as you lose all control.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises as he takes you over the edge, slowly working his fingers up and down, letting you ride out your orgasm as tidal waves collide in your body.

When the room stops spinning and your vision isn’t blurry anymore, you sit back and stare at him in awe. He’s got the biggest shit-eating grin on his face, obviously proud he made you just cum on his fingers. He’s waited so long to do it. All while teasing and tormenting you so he could make it that much better for you.

You should hate him, but you don’t. Oh no. You think you’re addicted to him now.

“That feel good?�� he asks. His palm sliding over your thigh, thumb massaging slow circles into the crease of your skin. It feels… good — calming.

He feels good.

“Yeah. That was—nice,” you finish, eyes peeking up at him through your eyelashes. His eyes are nearly dazzling under the dim lights. Almost like there’s stars soaring through those gold-flecked irises.

You stare at each other for a minute, sitting in comfortable silence. And in the next moment, without thinking, you’re grabbing his emerald tie and pulling it toward you. Heat rises in the air as your fingertips scratch down his patchy scruff, indulging in his woodsy cologne. Your lips graze just slightly against his, and flames erupt in his eyes.

“Haven’t had enough?” he teases as he pulls your hair softly, lifting your face up to his. His lips brush softly against yours, and it’s like everything seems right in the world.

Your breath comes out hot and uneven as you stir beneath him, one arm snaking around the back of his neck. You haven’t tasted him yet, and you’ll be damned if you don’t take this chance.

You lift your chin just a smidge higher until you’re practically magnetized to him. “No, Professor Miller. Haven’t had enough yet,” you mewl out, your head dizzy and disoriented.

He cups the back of your head and smiles, that devilish smirk curling against his mouth. “Then let me show you jus’ how good a Slytherin can make a Hufflepuff feel.”

He pulls your lips to his and kisses you fiercely, passion consuming you whole. You kiss him back just as desperate, needing to be as close to him as possible. When you open your mouth and invite him in, whiskey and green apples envelop your tastebuds. And you swear you’ve never tasted a better combination.

As he pushes you down against his desk, papers fly off in scatters, glass crashes to the ground. Never mind that, he doesn’t even seem the least bit bothered. Right now, all he’s focused on is you.

He crawls over you, crowding you with his broad body, his hands roaming up and down your bare skin as if he wants to crawl inside himself, claim you as his own.

You frantically pull at his buttons while he helps you unfasten them, quickly throwing his shirt off and tossing it to the side. Dark hair splatters his tanned chest, his happy trail disappearing beneath his black slacks. And God, he’s as hard as a rock underneath. You can see the massive outline of him.

He rocks his hips against yours, tongues tangling together as you drink each other down. You could get drunk on the sweet taste of him. You’re pretty sure he’s better than any butter beer you’ve ever tasted.

Your body hums with desire, tension coiling in your stomach. You want him, need him like you need air to breathe. You want to feel him inside you. Grinding and thrusting until you combust around him. Until you feel his seed drip down your thighs. You’ve never wanted it this bad with anyone. But with Joel? You’ve never wanted anything more in your life.

“Professor Miller, please,” you beg as you palm him through his slacks, an audible groan getting lost in between kisses.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart. Wanna hear it,” he slurs as he nips at your lower lip.

You find his top button and snap it open, finding his zipper next as you drag it down slowly. “Want you inside me, Professor,” you whisper provocatively, leaving your shyness behind just for the moment.

He winces as you reach in and start to work his massive cock up and down, spreading precum down his shaft. A quiet groan slips out of his mouth, and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard in your life. “Fuck me. This little filthy Hufflepuff wants it bad, don’t she?” he grins, eyes dancing like moonlit stars.

He’s so fucking pretty.

“Mmm. Yes. Please. I need it. Need you,” you beg.

He shoves your hand out of the way and pins it above your head, shoving his slacks and boxers down until he’s completely naked above you.

You gawk at how massive he is. Thick, beautiful, long. Precum beads his swollen red tip. Large veins spiral like vines on the underside of his cock. He’s so big; you don’t know how he’ll fit. But you know he’ll make it fit. Stretch you until you can’t take anymore.

He’s going to absolutely ruin you, and you’ll let him. You want him to destroy you.

He lines the angry tip up with your sex, stroking it up and down along your folds, gathering your slick on his cock as you purr at the feeling. If this feels good then being inside you might end you.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Gonna take real good care of this pretty Hufflepuff pussy,” he smirks darkly, eyes as black as coal.

He teases you slowly, dragging the tip through your folds. And when you’re about to beg for more, he thrusts deep inside with a low growl.

Your mouth drops open in awe as he stretches you to the max, working his thick length inside you over and over again until you start seeing stars in your vision. He’s so fucking big it feels like he’s splitting you in two; his pleasure driving yours to the finish line.

“Professor,” you moan as he thrusts deeper, kissing the back of your cervix. His large hands push your legs back against the wood of the desk, in a twisted pretzel shape. And when he snaps his hips again, you let out a guttural moan that doesn’t even sound like your lilty voice.

“That’s it. Let me hear you. Look so pretty with my cock deep inside you,” he chuckles as he drills into you as deep as he can, digging his way to your release.

“I—I…” Your voice fades off into a garbled mess as he fucks you relentlessly, speeding up his thrusts until the desk is shaking beneath you.

The squelching noises of his cock sliding in and out of your slick and the deep, gruff groans coming out of his mouth are almost barbaric. He’s completely wrecked just as you are. Two souls enchanted to run away in the darkness. Get lost in the indescribable pleasure of each other.

You feel yourself nearing another climax as he licks his tongue inside your mouth, meeting yours in a dance you can’t stop. He swallows your moans with each snap of his hips, his fingers toying with your overstimulated clit until you’re gasping for breath underneath him.

He disconnects from your lips and stares at you with pitch black eyes, ready to consume all of you. “That’s it. That’s a good fuckin’ girl. Come on my cock. Let me feel you,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. And the sound of that deep, melodic tone makes you want to spill right then.

“I—Professor Miller. I’m gonna…”

He drags his tongue along the edge of your ear and leans in close, his voice like silk. “C’mon, beautiful. Let go. Trust me. Feel me. Squeeze me. Show me how much I make you feel good. My pretty little Hufflepuff. My girl…”

That right there sends you over. One more press of his thumb to your clit and you’re falling off the edge. It’s like a choir of angels surrounds the dark ceiling, your ears ringing as you cry his name at the top of your lungs. You can’t think, can’t speak. You can only writhe beneath him as you come back down to earth while he calls you a good girl over and over again. He could say it a hundred times, and you’d never tire of it.

“Fuck. That’s my good girl,” he praises, fucking into you harder. His breath ragged and untame. His curls stick to his sweat-coated forehead, his black eyes widen, and you feel him start to fall apart.

“I’m not gonna fuckin’ last much longer, sweetheart. Where do you want me?” he asks breathlessly.

“Inside me, Professor Miller,” you beg. At the sound of his name, he throws his head back and groans loudly as he spills his warm seed inside you. Painting your walls white with the Slytherin essence of him. Claiming you as his own.

He falls on his back against the side of the desk and pulls you tight against his chest. And then the two of you just breathe each other’s air until one of you is strong enough to push up from the dark mahogany desk. You’re the first one to move.

You quickly throw on your dress and cast a charm to freshen up. You don’t need your students knowing what you and the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor have been up to.

Just as you start to smooth your hair out, you feel Joel brushing up against your back. His woodsy scent slithering its way down your spine, encapsulating your entire being as you start to fall into a deep trance again. You lean back and let him wrap his strong arms around your waist, his tempting lips kissing their way down the column of your neck.

“What are you doin’ later tonight?” he whispers smoothly, lingering his lips over your smooth skin. You feel his smoldering brown eyes piercing right through you, starting a fire deep in your core.

If he doesn’t stop, you’ll end up right back where you were just seconds ago. On your back with Joel fucking Miller hovering over your body. Pulling you apart thread by thread. And you’d let him. God, you’d burn down this entire room and let him fuck you through the flames that licked at your skin. You’d burn for him.

“Was going to lesson plan and maybe read a book,” you gulp as he spins you around, your speech suddenly slurring as he tempts you with dark eyes. Eyes that’ll swallow you whole.

“Well, how ‘bout you lesson plan from my bed?” He quirks up a thick brow and plants a smug grin on his plush lips. Lips that taste like firewhisky.

“I don’t think I could get anything done there,” you laugh, a crimson blush staining your cheeks.

“Not lesson plannin’, no. Maybe we could open the Chamber of Secrets. Get you moanin’ and speakin’ in tongues before the night is through,” he smirks devilishly, licking his bottom lip enticingly slow.

God, he’s such a tease.

“You’re a bad, wicked man, Professor Miller.” You shake your head and fold your arms over your chest, taking a step back until he wraps a big hand around your wrist and pulls you back into his broad chest.

“Don’t you forget it, baby,” he chuckles, fanning his hot breath over your lips. Drawing you in like a moth to a flame.

“You’re going to make me late for my next class,” you sigh, letting him gather you in his arms as his warmth consumes you.

“Then be late…” he whispers, brushing his lips over yours. Damn him and his plush, tempting lips. He tastes better than any sweet treat you’ve had in Hogsmeade.

“You’re a bad influence on me,” you tsk, throwing your arms around his neck. Screw it. You’re already hooked on him. Might as well just give in to his lustful temptations.

“Tryin’ to be,” he chuckles as he brushes a lock of hair behind the shell of your ear, lingering the back of his hand against your jawline. The tension suddenly thick around the dimly lit room once again. But really, it never left in the first place.

You graze your lips against his and give him a lasting kiss, fingers tangled in the messy curls you so desperately love to lace your fingers through. It feels like velvet as the silvery strands comb through your fingers.

You disconnect from his mouth and smile sweetly up at him, pushing off his strong chest. “Okay, handsome. I gotta go.”

“See you tonight, pretty Hufflepuff.” He lingers his calloused fingers around your wrist and holds you there, just so he can memorize what you look like under the moonlit lamps of his classroom. He thinks you’re absolutely stunning.

“Pretty, huh?” You give him a shy smile and feel your cheeks growing bright red.

He nods, brown eyes alight with wonder. “Baby, you’re the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Oh.

“You’re not so bad looking yourself, handsome,” you smile as he brings your hand up to his lips, placing a swift kiss to the top of your knuckles. And there you go blushing again like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Careful now. Start talkin’ like that, and I’ll jus’ have to make you mine,” he warns with a smirk, the crow’s feet making his eyes sparkle like onyx crystals as starlight dances across his pretty eyes.

“So make me yours…” you whisper, hand dropping to your side.

He chuckles and shakes his head, back of his hand skimming down your blush-coated cheek. “You’re already mine, beautiful girl.”

“Yours…” you repeat in awe.

“Mmm. Mine.” He lets you backup a couple steps, reluctant to let you go just yet. “See ya tonight, baby.”

As you pace back to the door and hover your hand over the golden handle, you turn back to him and smile. “Try not to think about me too much until then, Professor Miller.”

He rakes a hand slowly through his tousled curls, adjusting his loose tie around his neck. “Oh, babygirl. That’s the only thing that’s gonna be on my mind till I see you.”

His brown flecked eyes hold yours for just a few seconds and then you turn and walk out of the room, leaving behind the troublemaker that’s got your heart racing a million miles an hour.

You’re thoroughly, completely enraptured with Professor Miller. And you fear you won’t be able to get enough of him.

As you walk down the now stirring hallway, dodging chatty students, you think of those captivating dark eyes. Those smoldering, beautiful eyes. Just a few more hours until you’re in his arms again, until he’s making you come undone all over again.

You’d let him unravel you. Make you his with every touch, every kiss, every breath. You never expected to fall for a Slytherin but here you were. Tripping and stumbling to get one more taste of him.

You’d never get enough. This Hufflepuff belonged to a Slytherin now. Professor Miller. The bad boy who got the good girl.

He was your Amortentia, and you were his.

#Joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #hogwarts au #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel x female reader #pedro pascal #joel the last of us #harry potter #harry potter au #dark arts #Professor! Joel #slytherin #hufflepuff

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pedrospatch · 7 months ago

Text

conflicted

Raider! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: Your captor gives you a bath. You have some conflicting feelings when he touches you.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. RAIDER ERA. DARK!JOEL. DUBCON. also tagging elements of NONCON just to be on the safe side. UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 50). READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION. mentions of Joel’s group murdering reader’s group, Joel killed her father, mention of blood, Joel pretty much kidnaps reader and keeps her as his own. pet names (baby, babygirl, honey, pretty girl, little girl), daddy kink, very minimal editing.

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS.

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

word count: <1k

a/n: this is a bit less than a blurb. a blurb of a blurb. a blurbette, if you will. i shelled it out in like less than an hour. to me it is part of the captive universe, but can be read as a standalone! please be advised that this is not fleshed out at all, i just felt like writing something that didn’t require too much brain power.

He pours one last pail of hot water into the tub.

“How’s the water?” he asks you.

His voice is so deep. Rich, like molasses.

It’s also laced with a southern accent, you’d noticed.

Aware he’s still waiting for an answer, you shrug.

He tries again. “S’not too hot, is it?”

He had ordered one of the women in the group to start a fire and boil water collected from the stream they had stumbled upon just a mile south of the small cottage.

“Seriously, Joel?” Angela had glared at him. “I am not a fucking maid.” Hands planted on her hips, she foolishly added, “If I’m gonna haul and boil water for a bath, it’s gonna be for me, alright? Not for that little fucking brat of yours.”

His switchblade had gone straight to her throat.

“Fuckin’ say that again,” Joel hissed, the sharp edge of the blade lightly slicing into her flesh. “Call her that one more time and see what fuckin’ happens.”

She apologized and then got to work, completing the task within a couple of hours.

Finally, you answer his question.

“Water’s fine,” you mumble. It’s hot, but not scalding.

“Good.”

Joel kneels beside the tub.

Flinching, you hunch over and pull your legs up against your chest.

It doesn’t matter. He’s already seen you naked.

He’s the one who had undressed you, after all.

Dipping a washcloth into the water, Joel instructs, “Sit up straight, honey.”

Honey.

The pet name makes you feel sick to your stomach.

You’re not his honey. You’re his prisoner.

He frowns, the creases between his brows deepening.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, pretty girl.”

Obediently, you nod and the water sloshes around you as do what he says.

You saw what he was capable of. You’re terrified of him.

With a satisfied hum, he begins washing you.

It had been three days since the massacre. Joel gently scrubs away the crimson caked onto your skin and the color of the water turns to rust. You don’t know whose blood you’ve been wearing—could it be your father’s?

He had been standing in front of you when his life was taken by the very same man that knelt beside you. Had his blood splattered on you? Was it being cleaned off by the same man who had so violently spilled it?

Your stomach lurches at the thought.

He had been trying to protect you during the ambush.

Your father had been trying to fucking protect you.

And Joel Miller had killed him.

He had killed him just to get to you.

Joel runs the washcloth down your arm, his dark gaze dragging over every inch of your body. “Such a pretty, pretty little girl,” he murmurs. Dropping the washcloth into the water, he gently cups one of your breasts in his large hand. He sweeps his thumb over your nipple and lightly teases the pebbled flesh, his digit circling it until it becomes a stiff peak.

Your eyes flutter closed and you inhale sharply.

There’s a strange feeling in your lower belly.

Strange because it’s not entirely unpleasant.

He trails his hand lower, raking over your tummy.

Lower.

He rests his palm over the mound of your pussy.

Gasping, your thighs clench together.

You’d like to think it’s to keep him out, to keep him from violating you further, but the burning pressure building in between your hips seems to be saying otherwise.

Horrified, you squeeze your thighs even tighter.

No. Don’t let him in.

But what if your resistance led him to force his way in?

You shudder, unable to decide which would be worse.

Joel leans forward over the bathtub, pressing his lips to your temple. “Don’t fight it, honey. S’okay that it feels good,” he mumbles against your skin. “It’s s’pposed to feel good when I touch you, baby.”

No, it’s fucking not!

Bowing your head, quietly begin to sob.

He wraps his arms around you. “Don’t cry, babygirl,” he soothes. “Don’t cry. Daddy’s gonna take real good care of you. I promise I’ll always take good care of you.”

His vow makes you cry even harder.

divider credit @saradika 🤍

#tw dubcon #tw dubious consent #tw noncon #tw dark fic #raider!joel #raider!joel miller #dark!joel miller #dark!joel x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x afab!reader #joel miller blurb #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller drabble #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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tightjeansjavi · 5 months ago

Text

Mine

A/N: um…hi! I write piss kink now? 👹 I don’t know what came over me today but I was sitting at my desk and just thinking about that mean old man, when all of a sudden, I thought hmm…what would it be like if Joel pissed on me? Then I proceeded to think about the prospect of him peeing on me while I was in a WORK meeting and well, you guess where this is going ;) oh! Fun fact, I wrote most of this in the shower! (How fitting) don’t read if this sorta content disturbs you, and if there’s any puritans out there that wanna call me a sick fuck and tell me I’m going to hell, baby, I’m already there! Feminism went completely out the window on this one!

~word count: 2.7k~

Summary: Joel Miller fucks you the same way he does every night…until he decides to switch things up for the first time.

Pairing | dark!joel x f!reader

Warnings: dark!joel, rough/mean Joel, overstimulation, heavy on the degrading kink, breeding kink, biting, dom/sub dynamic, oral f receiving, spit kink, pussy slapping, slight dubcon, piss kink, implied free use, Joel calls the reader his bitch and cocksleeve, unprotected piv, pussy pronouns, no specific age for the reader, reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni!

Hot wisps of breath fan the shell of your ear. There’s a sheen of sweat coating your skin when his tongue darts out to taste a droplet of your perspiration on his tongue. His strong hips and thighs cage you posessively as he drives his cock further into your already ruined and messy cunt. His thrusts are relentless, and with each heavy punch of his cock into your cervix, you’re gasping for air; begging, pleading for him to let you breathe, but he always refuses.

He takes you like this the same way every night. Never soft and sweet, always rough and demanding. He’s like a rabid dog that broke away from its chain and headed straight for you. Ripping, clawing, and gnawing on your soft flesh. He takes and takes when, and however he chooses.

His large hands, calloused and scarred, act as a brand upon your skin. He molds you to his liking, pressing your face further into the seedy mattress till you can taste the dust ridden fibers on your tongue. His hands are capable of inflicting so much pain, and you can only imagine how many people he has killed with them.

He grunts against your ear, teeth biting down on the soft lobe till you’re yelping for him to stop and he removes his heavy hand from your soft cheek momentarily, only to grasp your hair between his fingers and roughly yank your head up from the mattress. Hot tears blur your vision. You’re in a confused daze, his words sounding muffled as you gulp down lungfuls of air.

“Ain’t much use to me if my favorite cocksleeve stops breathin’, sweetheart.” He gruffly teases, an edge of playfulness in his tone. “Keep on breathin’ in that sweet, sweet air. It’s the only shred of kindness you’re gonna get from me tonight.”

He forces your back to meet his chest, arching your spine to meet the heavy thrusts of his cock splitting you open. He drops your hair, your scalp feeling raw and tender from how hard he was yanking on it. His strong arms encase around your middle, fat fingers tormenting your nipples. He squeezes and pinches them before he shoves you right back down into the mattress.

“Turn your head to the side so that you can fuckin’ breathe.” Is all he says while he reaches for the old headboard for leverage. The shitty mattress shakes and squeaks beneath the weight of his heavy thrusts when he picks up his grueling rhythm, again.

You listen to his advice, if you would even call it that, and turn your cheek to the side so that your airway isn’t restricted. Your trembling hands reach for the tattered sheets, and your fists clench the fabric for any sense of support.

“Atta girl.” He rasps, blunt fingernails dig fiercely into the soft flesh of your hips, taking and marking you with red crescents indented in your skin.

“J-Joel.” You try to find your words, but they are muffled and fragmented. Your mind is too focused and centered on the pleasure rippling through your body to even try and protest.

“Shuddup and take it like you always do, baby. Know you can. Don’t gotta act stubborn about it.” He hisses between his clenched teeth, bending his chest forwards against your arched back. He sinks his teeth into the spot where your shoulder blades meet.

In some twisted and erotic way, he is mating you. His primal nature to breed you, and claim you as his; only his, takes over as he bites down on your flesh hard enough to draw blood to the surface of your delicate skin. And you have no choice but to let him, because despite how used and abused Joel Miller makes you feel, you keep coming back for more because no one fucks you like he does.

And when you don’t respond to his crudeness and condescending tone, he feels pleased by your submissiveness and need to please him.

“Was startin’ to think that my perfect little fuck toy wasn’t gonna show up for her fucking tonight. Thought maybe she had finally woken up and realized her worth, but then I find ya outside my door like a stray puppy jus’ waitin’ to be fucked.” He grunts deeply, slowing the movement of his hips before drawing them back slowly. “Cus’ no matter how many times you try to deny it, you love bein’ my cock sleeve. My fuck toy. You fuckin’ live for that shit baby, and you know what? I think it’s about time that I reward you.” He lets out a throaty breath before driving his hips forward, knocking the air from your lungs in tandem with his hips sharply jutting into the soft swell your ass.

His sweat slick skin slaps against yours, the obscene sounds of sex, and your ruined pussy squelching around the thick intrusion of his cock, send your eyes rolling back into your skull when you struggle to lift your cheek from the mattress to look over at him.

“W—what kind of reward?” You choke out, lips falling open in an o shape when his fat cock head nudges against that inner soft and spongy spot deep within the walls of your inviting warmth.

He chuffs a laugh, lifting his head up from where his teeth were just embedded into your skin. “Ah, there she is. Eager as ever, huh? Be fuckin’ patient, baby. Before I change my mind and decide you don’t deserve a reward at all.” He snaps, slamming his hips forward once more before he draws them back again. He slips out of your sopping pussy completely, leaving you on the edge of your approaching orgasm.

His cock is glistening in the low light, a creamy ring of your combined arousal coats the thick, veiny girth of his cock. He scoots back just enough so that he can watch the way your pussy pulses and drools a trail of enticing slick down between your trembling thighs.

He uses his thumbs to pry your inner lips apart before he spits a glob of saliva between your gaped, pulsing hole, and down to your untouched clit, swollen and puffy with need.

“Such a messy little pussy. You should see the way she’s winkin’ at me right now. So needy and desperate for my cock to fill her up with my seed, ain’t that right?” He sounds drunk, words slurred together, darkened eyes glazed over in lust. He licks his lips, inhaling the heady scent of your arousal like a hound dog locked on a trail. “Smell so fuckin’ sweet, too.” He groans before surging forward, burying his face between your parted thighs.

He’s never eaten you out before. Always claiming that you were undeserving of his skilled mouth and tongue. But tonight he’s finally given into tasting you, and once he’s had a lick, he can’t stop. He keeps you pried apart at his leisure, dragging his broad nose right through your trail of slick from the source. His lips suckle on your clit before dragging downwards to tease your folds, sucking on them, too. He’s eating you as if your pussy, and her sweet, sweet, nectar is his life source.

Your body jolts forward when his wiry beard scrapes at the apex of your thighs. He growls against you before reaching around for your hips and anchoring you in place once more so he can continue feasting.

He obscenely slurps and groans against your cunt before drawing his face back for a lungful of air. His chin and beard are glistening, coated in your arousal when he licks you from his lips. You think that maybe he’s finally having a change of heart when he flips you onto your back with ease, your breasts bounce from the movement when your back hits the mattress with a soft thud.

He never strays from fucking you from behind, on your knees with your face smashed into his mattress. That’s how he always takes you. His way only. And yet, here you are staring up at him with your big doe eyes bright and innocent. Your lips parted when he grabs the back of your knees and presses them towards your chest.

“Make yourself useful and hold those for me, will ya?” He barks out an order.

You scramble to grab the underside of your knees, sweaty fingers nearly slipping before you are able to have a solid grip around them.

“Good girl.” He nods before wedging himself between the small opening of your thighs. He catches that almost hopeful glint in your eyes and shoots it down immediately with an intimidating glare.

He brings one hand to the back of your scalp, roughly yanking your head upwards so you’re making direct eye contact with him. His dominant hand is loosely wrapped around the shaft of his cock, and he slaps the fat mushroom head against your puffy clit to gain your attention. “You focus right here.” He snips, brows furrowed together in a harsh line across his forehead. “Don’t you go and gettin’ this twisted, ya hear me? I know how you women work. Y’all think that jus’ cause a man does somethin’ different for once, that he’s softenin’ up to ya. He ain’t. You’re still my bitch, my little cocksleeve, and you’d best be wise to remember that, baby.”

“Y-Yes, Joel. I’m still your—”

He cuts you off with a low snarl when he begins to feed you his cock from this angle inch by inch, glancing down between your bodies so he can see your pussy pulling him in further. “That you are, my girl. Still feelin’ jus’ as eager for your little reward?” He questions with a cock of his brow, smirk tugging across his devious face.

“Please.” You beg him softly, not understanding what it was you were begging him for in the first place.

“Such an eager little cocksleeve to be pumped full of my seed, baby. Never thought I’d see the day.” He chuckles, pressing his hips forward till he’s completely bottomed out inside of you, and the coarse thatch of hair above his pubic bone presses into your clit.

Wait…what?

You look at him dumbfounded, shaking your head and hoping that you just misunderstood what he was saying. “What?”

“What?” He mocks your surprised tone condescendingly.

“Joel.” You try to reason with him, “we—we can’t! I—I don’t want to carry your fucking kid!”

“Aw.” He pouts, drawing his hips back before slamming them forward again. “You don’t wanna be filled to the fuckin’ brim with my seed? You don’t think your pussy wants that, baby? I think she does.” He teases.

“No, Joel. Please. Anything but that. You can come on my tits, my face, just please—not inside!” Your mind is already reeling at the possibility of having to carry Joel Miller’s fucking offspring in a world such as this one. You felt like one of those breeding mares shipped off to some stud farm to be passed around between stallions till one of their foals would inevitably stick—

He laughs cruelly at your fear and the way it dots your vision. He can imagine exactly what’s going through your mind at that very moment. “You should see your fuckin’ face right now.” He snickers. “Relax, sweetheart. I got a vasectomy years before the outbreak.”

“Jesus fuck, Joel! Why didn’t you just start off with that?!” You yell in his face, wishing you could punch that stupid grin right from the perfect pout of his kissable lips. You feel the tension visibly leave your shoulders when he satiates your fears of pregnancy, even if he does it in such a cruel manner.

“Cus’ I like toyin’ with ya. It’s entertainment for me, baby. You’re so easy to play with. I can do it with my eyes closed.” He muses before rolling his hips forward.

“You’re such a dick for that.” You attempt to chastise him, but your attempt is fruitless.

“Now, don’t go thinkin’ you’re entirely off the hook now, sweetheart. I do believe you said earlier that I could do anythin’ else I wanted to ya, right? Your words, baby. Not mine.”

Damn, his mind is sharper than a fucking arrow.

“Yeah…I did say that you could cum on my tits, or my face—”

“Mmm…nope. That ain’t gonna cut it for me unfortunately. I think I wanna do somethin’ else.” He trailed off, meeting your slightly nervous gaze with a small tilt of his head. How could his words and body language always be so fucking…mean?

“Okay, well, what else do you want to do?”

He shrugs his shoulders in disinterest before he grabs your hands that are still secured around the backs of your knees and removes them quickly so that your thighs fall open. He wants you spread at his mercy when he begins to ram into you, over, and over again. “You’re just gonna have to wait and find out.” He grunts deeply, bending down at an angle so he can nip at the juncture of your neck.

Your head lolls to the side so he has easier access and the pleasure starts to coarse through your body till he moves his mouth down the clavicle of your chest. First he starts off with chaste kisses to the swells of your breasts, and then he toys with the pert nipple between his lips. You let out a soft mewl that quickly turns into a high pitched yelp when his teeth sink into the sensitive pebbled flesh, hard.

“OW!” You cry out at the assault of his mouth. He does it again before switching to your other nipple, delivering the same mistreatment before he soothes the broken skin with his tongue.

You jokingly call him an animal thinking that he would disagree and scold you for it, but instead…he leans into that side of himself. He fucking loves it.

“Yeah, baby. I am a fuckin’ animal. You got that damn right.”

He fucks you like one too, till your creaming around his cock, leaking out around his thick girth that continuously punches into your pussy. He slips out suddenly with a wet squelch, leaving you feeling a little dazed and positively fucked out.

“Still want your reward, baby?”

You nod dumbly, cock drunk and eyes glazed with stars still twinkling behind them.

“Alright, my little cocksleeve. Close those pretty eyes for me, and no peekin!’”

Your eyes snap shut on command, chest rising and falling as you catch your breath.

The old mattress squeaks when his weight rises from it. You think about risking a peek to see what exactly it is that he’s doing, but you decide against it.

He stands above you on the mattress at his full height, looming over your spread legs while your ruined pussy is still drooling along the soiled sheets. He looks down at you with his cock wedged between his fist.

You can hear the wet sound of his fist jerking himself off before you feel the hot ropes of his seed coating your face, lips, neck, chest and lower. He shoots a load across your tummy, and right down to your pretty spread pussy.

Well, I suppose that’s a nice…reward? You think to yourself.

“Ain’t done yet, sweetheart.” He scolds you lightly from above when he sees your thighs beginning to close up like a nighttime flower closing its petals till the sweet kiss of sunrise.

He really has more than that? Damn, I underestimated this sick son of a bitch.

He relaxes his shoulders, letting out a decompressing sigh before he slowly releases his bladder with a sick smirk plastered on his face.

First, you detect the familiar stench of urine, and then the steaming liquid lands on your face, trickling down your lips. You let out a sound of protest and lift your hands above your head to shield yourself from his piss. It trails down the valley of your breasts, down your stomach and between your thighs, mixing into the trail of slick between them.

He’s marking you like a fucking dog marks his bitch, and you’ve never felt more degraded and humiliated in your entire life till you find youself under Joel Miller’s golden fucking shower. The stench of urine and cum stings your eyes and the sensitive hairs in your nose.

He bends down, cock now softened between his thighs and places one hand along the side of your face, brushing away a stray dribble of cum and piss from your lips with his calloused thumb.

“Now, no other man is ever gonna want to fuck my bitch when she’s reekin’ of my piss and cum.”

~~~

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