#free use!Joel

[to-be-a-dreamer]

I will never not love Lizzie and Joel’s dynamic in the Life Series she has tried to kill him so many times it’s not even a surprise anymore and he forgives her every single time. Joel refuses to even agree to let someone else kill Lizzie because he knows she’ll watch his video and find out and then he’ll be kicked to the couch with the dog. The biggest argument between the family was about how Joel kept giving Lizzie diamonds for no reason and Gem wanted him to stop being hopelessly in love for two seconds so he’d stop giving resources to his #1 attacker. Joel wasted half an episode because he wanted to run at Lizzie in slow motion like a rom com.

One time Lizzie THOUGHT Joel killed her in MCC and she yelled at him through the wall that she wanted a divorce. Joel realized he had multiple men obsessed with him on Hermitcraft so he built a statue dedicated to his beautiful fish goddess wife. They were a part of a roleplay server where their characters didn’t know each other and immediately had a wedding so their characters would be canonically married as well. Lizzie made the wedding an entire arc of the musical.

No one is doing it like them and they shouldn’t even try

[dilf-hunter-fantasies]

I was wondering if you'd write anything about Joel and free use?

Love your account babe💗

thank you so much babe, i loved this idea! i hope you enjoy my take on it. i was fantasizing about...

renting a room from joel miller and striking a deal to lower your rent. 

3.5k words 🍒warnings: explicit smut, no outbreak au, age gap (reader in college), female reader, brief mention of f masturbation, free use!!, size kink, pussy pronouns, unprotected piv, use of: sweetheart, darlin' 

click here for more of my writing

So you end up short on options for housing after breaking up with your ex. You know it seems weird to be a young woman willing to rent a room from an older man who is …well in all versions you spin it…a total stranger. But, your aunt swears he’s a good guy. 

She used to live in his neighborhood, knew his daughter, figured he has the extra room and put you in touch. And all things considered, she hasn’t led you astray. I mean, he hasn’t murdered you. 

Okay, it’s not that bad. He doesn’t give off murder vibes either. More like…grumpy single man vibes. But that works out for your arrangement. You’re both pretty quiet and you keep to yourselves. And he’s not too bad to look at. You catch yourself straddling a line between not being the creep yourself and just wanting to get to know him a little bit. 

The real problem has nothing to do with him and everything to do with you. Well with your bank account. You’ve been bleeding your measly savings trying to keep up with life and the job you have isn’t really enough to live off of. It was a dream to find a hybrid schedule and work for a non-profit with a mission that matters to you. But it doesn’t pay for shit. 

It’s not like Joel’s overcharging you or anything either. Nothing is affordable. 

And now you’re on your last legs. If you can’t keep this together you’ll have to pack it up and crawl home to your family? Not an option. It’s not like you haven’t been applying for other jobs either. But you either don’t hear back or the schedule won’t work with your classes. 

So here you are. Pacing back and forth in your sparsely decorated room. Between your bed and your desk, wearing a groove into the carpet, chewing on your fingers and obsessively checking your phone to see if your sage friends have any better advice. 

They don’t. 

Well, they suggested selling feet pics online, but even if that could be lucrative—it doesn’t get you the money to spend by tomorrow. You toss yourself onto your bed, exasperated. Last resort. You’re gonna have to be honest. 

It takes a long time to gather the mental courage. You stare at your ceiling for so long your eyes blur. You can hear Joel in the kitchen and with a deep breath you force yourself up, dragging your feet down the hallway until you see him. 

The kitchen is warm, whatever he’d made for dinner earlier smells good. So good it makes your stomach growl, announcing your presence in the doorway. The sound makes you grimace—for a split second you’re tempted to hide. To run back to your room and pretend like there won’t be any consequences if you just don’t bring it up. Ever. 

Too late. He shuts the dishwasher with a loud click and turns, his sharp brown eyes meeting yours. You immediately regret this idea. Your feel like you’re sinking into the floor. You don’t know how long you’ve been staring at him now. 

“Hey,” he says gruffly, his voice low and even. He turns back away from you, putting leftovers in the fridge, like it’s no big deal you’ve been standing there silently like a weirdo. “You need something?” 

Your throat is suddenly so dry, you can barely unstick your tongue to speak. “Yeah…uh, can I talk to you for a second?” 

Joel pauses mid-motion, before shoving the last container onto the shelf and letting the fridge door shut, trapping you in the silence together. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks toward you. The way his shirt stretches across his shoulders makes you nervous for reasons you don’t want to analyze right now. 

“Sure.” 

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, your hands twisting in front of you like they’re trying to strangle each other. His eyes flick down to the motion, and you force yourself to stop. 

“So, uh…I was wondering—” You swallow hard. You can do it. “I need to talk to you about my rent.” 

His eyebrows lift, and your chest tightens. 

“Let’s hear it then.” 

“It’s just that I’m in kind of a tight spot right now. Work’s been—well, it’s been fine but money’s tight, and I just—” You’re rambling. Words all running together. “I’m not saying you’re charging too much or anything like that, but—” 

“Slow down,” Joel holds up a hand, and the rest of your words fall flat. His voice is calm, but firm. “You sayin’ you can’t afford it?” 

“I can!” you blurt out. “I mean, I can’t by tomorrow, but I can soon. I just thought, maybe we could work something out. Like…if you could give me some more time or if I could do something to work off some of what I owe.” Joel tilts his head slightly, studying you in a way that makes your skin prickle. You can’t tell if he’s annoyed or just thinking, and the silence stretches too long for comfort. 

Finally, he exhales through his nose, dropping his arms and leaning his palms on the counter behind him. His voice is lower when he speaks again, quieter, like he’s weighing every word. 

“You wanna do something for me?” 

Your heart skips, and you blink up at him. Maybe that was a dumb suggestion. You don’t even know what you have to offer. The house is always clean, the yard maintained, he seems to enjoy cooking. 

“Uh, yeah?” your face contorts a little as you try and come up with a suggestion. “If you’d consider giving me a discount.” 

His lips twitch, just the barest hint of a smirk, and something about it makes the air in the room shift. 

“Well,” he drawls, “If I’m cuttin’ you a deal,---” 

“You’ll consider it?” You look at him with a smile already starting to break on your face. You can breathe. 

“Maybe you can cut me one, too.” He finishes his sentence. Your mouth hangs open, but nothing comes out. There’s something behind his words you don’t fully understand, but it’s stuck in the air between you. 

“What kind of deal?” you manage to get out, your voice hesitant. 

Joel pushes off the counter, closing the space between you in a way that’s casual, but calculated. He’s close enough you can make out the lines at the corners of his eyes, the salt-and-pepper in his beard. His gaze holds yours, steady and charged with something new. 

“You say yes,” he starts to explain, his voice dropping into a gravelly timbre that makes your pulse quicken. “And I’ll knock your rent down as much as you need. Simple.” 

The room suddenly feels small, too warm, like his gravity is holding you in place. 

“Say yes to what, Mr. Miller?” Your voice is soft, just a whisper rolling off your tongue. You have an idea what he’s proposing. The way his eyes flicker with something dark and knowing when you refer to him as Mr. Miller. The crackle in the air between you. 

“I think you know what I mean.” 

You shake your head, ever so subtly, wrinkling a brow. In what feels like slow motion, Joel tips your chin up, between his thumb and curled forefinger. Your face is on fire. Somehow exposed even though nothing else has changed. 

“Whenever I need you. Wherever I want you.” 

For a second you think he might kiss you. It feels like everything in your body is calling to him. His mouth is so close to yours. The words are still replaying in your mind. 

But he pulls his hand back. “Think about it,” he murmurs and brushes past you, close enough that you can feel the heat of his body. He glances back at you once on his way out of the room. “Offer’s on the table, sweetheart,” he says over his shoulder. “Up to you.” 

You’re left standing, still as a stone, heat prickling up your spine as his words replay in your head. 

What the fuck just happened?

“Hey!” you call out, starting down the hall after Joel. “Wait.” 

He turns, hovering in the doorway to his room. 

“Uh, are you talking about sex?” 

“Yep.” 

Your breath hitches. The corner of his mouth quirks, smug. You look at him with fresh eyes. He’s an attractive guy. Not exactly pleasant, but not a jerk. You can’t imagine he’d have a hard time picking up a date. 

“I’m not a whore, you know.” “I know, darlin’.” His face softens a little. 

The next couple of days are filled with tension so thick it’s impossible to ignore. Whenever you’re in the same room you can feel his eyes lingering on you. He brushes past you in the kitchen in the morning, his hand grazing your hip when he reaches for his coffee mug. 

You catch him watching you from across the room, leaning against the counter like he has all the time in the world. His eyes roam all over your body, dark and deliberate, and you can feel the promise in his gaze. 

It’s driving you fucking insane. You thought he’d have made a move by now. Hell, you thought he’d have made a move the second you agreed to his deal. But he’d only made sure you each had a few ground rules and that was it. End of conversation. 

“Have a good night now, darlin’. Hope you sleep better without having to worry about your rent.” 

Right. You didn’t have to worry about rent. You just had to spiral in your own room wondering when it would happen. How he’s going to take you.

It’s got you so worked up thinking about him you keep spacing out during your work meetings. Swiveling restlessly on your office chair in your bedroom, trying to remember to look focused and add your two cents in for participation. 

But all you can think about is Joel. You’re on high alert whenever you hear his truck roll into the driveway, the door slamming shut with a thud. His heavy steps coming down the hall. You wonder when he’ll want you. You know he meant it. 

You hope he meant it. 

That night, his footsteps pause outside your door, his presence thick in the air, setting your pulse racing. It makes you squirm, adjusting the skimpy pajamas you’ve taken to wearing as your heart beats faster. You can’t tell if he’s debating coming in or if he’s just fucking with you, but it’s got you breathless. 

The next morning, you’re standing in the bathroom doorway, brushing your teeth when Joel suddenly appears, shirtless and still damp from his shower. He gives you a lazy once-over, stepping close enough that you have to press yourself against the door frame to let him pass. 

His voice is low and teasing as he murmurs, “You’re in the way, sweetheart,” leaving your cheeks flaming. 

The next day, you’re still tense. 

Stretching in your desk chair as your coworkers read through their budget updates and data tracking for the grants you’re funded through. It’s hard to stay focused, Joel has taken over all of your thoughts. 

Jaz finishes her update and another department leads the rest of the meeting. You’re shuffling your notes around mindlessly, barely hearing a word. Every thought in your head is Joel, Joel, Joel.

Last night, you’d nearly combusted when he finally walked away from your door. You’d been seconds from begging him to come in, to just take you already. By the time he left, your thighs were slick, and the ache was unbearable. You had to handle it yourself, coming hard and fast on your fingers, imagining it was his thick, calloused hands instead.

But now, twelve hours later, the tension is already back. Worse than before. Every noise in the house puts you on edge. His truck rumbling into the driveway. The front door shutting. 

The meeting drags on, voices fading into a blur—until a soft knock jolts you back to reality. 

Before you can answer, the door swings open, and Joel steps inside like he owns the place—which, technically, he does. He leans against the frame, arms crossed, looking completely unbothered by the fact that you’re clearly in the middle of something.

Your heart races. Your eyes flick to your camera to make sure it’s off. Muted. Thank God.

Joel doesn’t say anything, just watches you with a smirk that makes your stomach flip. His dark eyes roam over you, slow and deliberate, and it’s like every molecule of air has been sucked out of the room.

He takes his time crossing the space between you, letting the silence stretch. You can feel the heat radiating off him as he crowds you, hands bracing the arms of your chair, caging you in.

“You gonna tell me to stop?” he drawls, his voice low and gravelly.

Your throat is so tight you can’t even speak. You shake your head.

Joel’s smirk deepens. “That’s what I thought.”

His big hands tug you to the edge of your chair, spreading your knees wide. He runs his palms along your thighs, leaving a trail of heat that burns your skin through your soft leggings. 

Your heart jumps to your throat, chest tight. 

The thought of your coworkers just a click away only heightens the thrill. 

Joel doesn’t hold back. Pulling you to stand. Turning you to face your desk and pressing until you lean your elbows on the smooth surface, framing your keyboard. 

You arch your spine eagerly, holding your breath, bracing for his next move. He smooths a palm over the curve of your ass, humming softly to himself, before slipping his hand between your legs. 

You tilt your head, a shaky breath escaping as his fingers press against you, making your thighs tremble. You know he can feel how wet you already are through the thin material. All day you’re wet for him, just waiting and waiting. 

His touch is firm and you grind into it without thinking, making him laugh under his breath. “Shit,” he murmurs. “She needs it worse than I do, huh?” You don’t answer. Just dropping your head between your shoulder blades as he rubs circles against your clothed pussy. 

He retracts his hand, swiftly pulling your leggings down, exposing your puffy, wet folds to the cooler air. 

You stay folded over, forehead resting on your desk, ass arched in presentation. You don’t know what to expect next, your pulse thunders in your ear as you wait. 

His hands frame your cunt, spreading you wider so he can look closer. You’d be self-conscious being studied so closely if you were any less desperate for him to touch you. But all you can do you is silently beg him to do something. 

“Christ,” he murmurs reverently, dropping to his knees behind you. “Just a taste first.” It sounds like he’s talking to himself. You don’t care. 

You gasp sharply the second his tongue dips between your swollen lips. It’s so much better than your fingers and your frustrated, rushed orgasms last night. It’s so much better. 

He uses his whole face, diving deeper, as he groans into your pussy. Your meeting is still in progress, but the voices coming through your speakers could be speaking a foreign language. They mean nothing to you right now. 

The only thing that matters is between your legs. You’re almost embarrassed at how close you already are. You don’t know if you should say anything. If he cares if he makes you cum. Before you can think any harder, he’s back on his feet and you’re whimpering at the loss. 

“I know.” 

The soft clink of his belt followed by the sound of him unzipping his jeans has your knees weak. The thrill that shoots through you is like lightning, ripping through your system and activating every nerve in your body. 

Be good," he growls, dragging his cock through your slick.

“Oh, fuck,” you can’t help the awe and the relief. The heat, the thickness, the pressure. It’s everything you need, but not enough at the same time. He continues for a moment, coating his length in your arousal as you try to swallow down your needy moans. 

He slots his blunt tip at your entrance, adding enough pressure to make you suck in air. Without even seeing it, you know it’s going to be a stretch. Like he can read your mind, or at least your body, he runs his hand soothingly over your spine. 

It shouldn’t melt your nerves so fast, but the gentle touch eases your mind. For reasons you can’t explain—feelings really, you feel safe. 

“We’ll start slow this time, sweetheart. Don’t worry.” 

And then he’s nudging into you, working you open around his wide cockhead. It’s mildly uncomfortable, but you welcome the dull ache. Your throbbing pussy has been begging for it. He pulls back, repeating the slow movement, splitting you open for him a little further each time. 

It makes you needy, you try to push back against him, but he only swats at your ass. “I told ya to be good.” 

Your cheeks feel hot at the scolding. 

“Sorry, Mr. Miller.” It comes out more confident than you expected, your voice smooth and low. 

You can feel the way his dick twitches at your response before he continues, painstakingly slowly, filling you up. You’re still frustrated, but each time he thrusts into you, your knees almost buckle and you know he hasn’t made it all the way in yet. You’re still hungry for that feeling, for his hips to meet your ass, flush. 

You can’t hold back your moans as he drags along your nerves. He already has your eyes rolling back and he’s not even fucking you yet. 

Until he stops, held still halfway inside of you. You blink your eyes open, trying not to whine. 

He says your name like he’s been calling it and you’ve been ignoring him. “Hmm?” you respond. 

“Think they’re waiting for your answer.” 

“Oh, shit.” 

Joel still doesn’t move. You unmute your mic, trying to steady your voice. “I’m really sorry, uh, can you repeat the question?” 

“Just confirming your mid-cycle reports are already submitted.” 

“Yes.” 

“Great.” 

You mute the mic again and Joel slams the rest of the way home, making you cry out in surprise. 

He doesn’t hold back now, his rough hand gripping your hip as he takes you, low grunts echoing in your room as he snaps his hips forward. Your ass ripples, bouncing off of him with every thrust and the filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin fill your ears. 

He hits so fucking deep at this angle, you can barely think. His balls slap against you and for some reason that makes you even more crazy for him. You meet his every thrust with the same energy, fucking hard. So hard your desk rattles, but neither of you can be bothered by it’s structural integrity. 

He keeps you on edge, pounding into you as the pressure builds. When you shift slightly, his cock drags over the devastating spot that makes you nearly wail.

“Yeah?” he asks as if you could respond right now. “Right there?” 

“Mmm,” is all you can manage. 

“Good. Let me have it. Rub that pretty clit of yours for me, I wanna feel her trying to milk me dry.” 

Fuck. His filthy words nearly send you over the edge immediately, but when you slip your own hand between your legs, it’s euphoric. Furiously working at your slick, swollen bundle of nerves you drive yourself to the brink. 

“Gonna–ah!--gonna cum,” You get the breathy, gasping words out right as your pussy starts to clench around him. He groans lowly, making you see stars as your climax tears through you. 

The waves are still rolling through your muscles, your core still tensing, when he pulls out. The slick sounds as he pumps his cock rapidly are obscene and you don’t want them to stop. But then you feel his hot cum painting your ass, and you’re moaning in unison. 

Then he’s pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder before slinking out of your room. You grimace. Tuning back in to the speaker still rambling on about god knows what on your computer. Before you can move, Joel is back with a small towel to clean you up. 

You’re stuck in a daze. A blissed-out state, as you straighten up and pull your leggings back up. Joel’s about to slip back out the door as if nothing happened. Before he steps out of the room though, he gives you a knowing smirk, “You did good for me, darlin’.” 

You’re left staring at the closed door, breathless and trembling, the heat of his touch still lingering on your skin. Rent isn’t the problem anymore. Joel Miller is.

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@lovely-vamp-princess @mushgloomz @untamedheart81 @kyloispunk

[tightjeansjavi]

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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Follow @tightjeansjaviupdates for fic updates and notifications

[ennabear]

hi!!! don’t forget that even though hbo tlou2 promo might be exciting, the creator (neil druckmann) is a zionist!!!!! PLEASE do not give him any more money. do not watch tlou2 when it comes out. do not fund somebody who openly supports genocide.

the themes in tlou are hugely based on israel vs palestine conflicts. not only are there israeli themes and propaganda in tlou2, but neil druckmann also gets money from the show. do not fund a zionist!!!!!!!!

if you’d like to hear more about neil’s zionism, here are some posts by amazing writers on tumblr!! here and here and here.

one final thing, i’m not here to argue. neil druckmann is a zionist. you should not be funding him. and for the love of god, do not start arguments in the comments. this is not up for debate!! thanks!!!!

[kyuyua]

me and photoshop are enemies now

[lovedrruunk]

'Girl next door જ⁀➴♡ Chapter 1

In which Joel plays Cupid in order to help a hopeless Ellie win over the cute girl next door.

Series Masterlist!

prologue! - chapter 2!

"It's just Sugar"

w.c; 2.2k

[silly awkward Ellie Williams x fem reader!]

"'Morning" Ellie said slowly as she walked into the kitchen eyeing Joel suspiciously.

"What's with the face?"

There Joel stood behind the kitchen island wearing a pink and white polka dotted apron with ruffles that he had “borrowed” from Maria and never given back. In front of him was a bowl of yellow cupcake batter.

“You never bake. You’re like, terrible at it actually.” Ellie said as she lazily made her way behind the island. Standing to his side she reached out her hand in order to dip her finger into the batter. Putting it up to her lips she licked it off while grimacing.

“Ellie, that's disgusting." Joel said furrowing his brows at her.

"That's disgusting." She pointed back to bowl looking up at him. "How do you mess up cupcakes?" She says before walking away.

"Hope you get salmonella." He said teasingly rolling his eyes as she heads to the counter picking up an apple "Salmo- What? Never mind actually I don't care." She says biting into it chewing obnoxiously while she's at it. "Who are we trying to poison with your awful baking skills anyway?"

"Y/N."

Ellie chokes on her apple coughing aggressively before spitting it out. She looks up at him bewildered.

"Why are you baking cupcakes for Y/N?" She spews out quickly furrowing her brows at him, confusion written all over her freckled face.

"Technically it's for her old man, he got a promotion last week. Thought it'd be nice to bring something to celebrate." He smiles smugly to himself as he continues to stir the batter.

Ellie blinked. "You couldn't have just bought a cake like a normal person?"

"Where's the fun in that?" Joel shrugged. "Besides, it's the thought that counts."

"Yeah, well, your thoughts are gonna give everyone food poisoning," Ellie muttered, taking another bite of her apple.

Joel ignored her, focusing on pouring the batter into the cupcake tin. "By the way I'm outta sugar. Think you can head next door and ask Y/N for some?"

Ellie froze. "Are you serious? It's just sugar, you'll live. What do you need sugar for anyway? You're already done." The pitch of her voice rising the more she continues to complain, trying and failing to be nonchalant.

Joel looked at her, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "I need to make frosting. Unless you wanna use salt instead."

Ellie sighed throwing the apple core into the trash.

"Besides, I thought you two were friends? Like 'ya said It's just sugar." He continued.

Ellie rolling her eyes looking up at him. "We are! Or- were. But that's not the point... it's just-" She looks around the kitchen trying to think of the right word "stupid." She huffs as she crosses her arms.

"Oh wow you think she's stupid? Well that's not nice of you."

"You know what I meant!"

"Ellie," He said softly reassuring her "It's no big deal."

"Yea but-" She started, then stopped. She knew she was overreacting but how could she not. Ever since the day Joel had brought up the idea of you being a potential love interest for her it seemed like you had taken over her every thought. She stayed up some nights thinking back to her interactions with you, overanalyzing your every word probably just convincing herself of something that wasn't there. If he had asked her to fetch something from your house a week ago she would have done it without a second thought, but now it seemed impossible.

"You're just borrowing sugar Ellie. You'll live." He says with a happy look on his face handing her a measuring cup.

"I won't but okay." She rolled her eyes begrudgingly reaching her hand out to accept it, walking over to put on her shoes and jacket. "And don't say 'borrow' as if we're gonna give it back, that makes no sense. What you should be giving back is that god awful apron..."

"Heard that!"

As she stepped outside the morning air was chilly and the sun was just starting to warm up the street. Ellie’s mind raced with a jumble of thoughts. It wasn’t just about the sugar or Joel’s baking, it was about you. As she made her way down the stairs she thought back to when you were both kids. Her skipping over to your house for dinner with her own dish to share, some Frankenstein contraption of anything good she could find in the fridge. You had always said you loved her cooking but now being older and wiser she knew you were just saying that to be nice, but still, the memory of you appreciating whatever she brought over made her smile. She'd bet money that you would play the same part when Joel comes over to give your family his gross cupcakes. She almost felt bad about the whole thing... almost.

The walk to your house felt longer this time around. Was it just because she was walking extra slow out of fear of knocking on your door? Maybe, maybe not. I mean c'mon, knocking on a girls door to ask for sugar that should be lightwork for her. Afterall, Ellie had been through hell and back over the years, what's talking to you gonna do? Like Joel had said, she'd live.

Now standing in front of your front door she took a deep breath. A part of her wanted to just turn around and go back to Joel measuring cup empty or hell just go to the store and buy some cupcakes herself, but she knew if she went back to him sugarless she wouldn't be able to look him in the eye. With retreating being off the table she decided it was best to just get it over with, sucking it up, growing a pair, and locking the fuck in.

Reaching her hand out to knock on your door she chose to ignore the way it slightly trembled. Once, then twice, then thrice, then- 'fuck is knocking 3 times too much? i'm being annoying arn't i' Seconds felt like hours as she waited for anyone to open the door, when suddenly

"Ellie! Hey, what's up?"

Ellie stood there for a second blankly staring at you as you greeted her. You were in your pajamas, hair still messy from your nights rest and eyes a little puffy. The morning sun shined on you making you glow and she couldn't help but think looked really cute. 'which isn't weird at all because it's totally normal to be able to admit that someone is attractive without there being any meaning behind it!' After you two had fallen out she never really took the time to observe how you changed, but now face to face really looking at you she could see just how much you've grown. You no longer had the babyface you had in all her memories of you two together, you had grown into it, you looked perfect actually now that she had thought about it. Pretty. But not like pretty pretty like pretty, like she could stare at your face for hours without needing to blink pretty. It felt weird to suddenly recognize all these differences at once but she quickly snapped out of it. She forced a smile, hoping it didn't look as strained as it felt.

"Hey, uh, Joel's trying to bake, and he ran out of sugar. Can we borrow some?" She cringed heavily at herself the moment the words slipped out her mouth. 'Borrow? Really?'

"Borrow? Really? I'll be expecting you to give it back then." You chuckled lightly teasing her. Little did you know that one little sentence just ruined her entire year. Ellie face whitened as she Internally freaked out, she felt her face heat up and her palms sweat.

Ellie chuckled nervously, tightening her grip around the measuring cup in her hand. "Oh, sorry, no, uh, I'm not sure why I said 'borrow.' You're right, that makes no sense. I mean, how does one even 'borrow' sugar? Like, do we measure it out and give it back later? Or do we just...?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "Ellie, relax. I was just messing with you. You don't have to return the sugar."

God how did she manage to make it even worse? "Oh, right. Yeah, of course. That makes way more sense. Sorry, I'm just... yeah." As she was forcing another smile she thought about Joel and how he was probably in the kitchen right now without a care in the world. She wished him the absolute worse in this moment, after all this was all his fault, him and his stupid cupcakes. In fact, she hates cupcakes now! He has officially ruined cupcakes for her and she made a promise to herself that she'd let him have it later... if she gets out of this alive.

You held the door open a bit wider. "You're welcome to come in. Here I'll take this from you." You smiled sweetly reaching out to take the measuring cup from her hands. You looked down at it once you felt how wet the handle was but you paid it no mind.

"Sure. Yeah, thanks." She muttered smiling softly as she followed you inside.

Once through the door she was hit with a wave of nostalgia. The familiar scent of your home, a mix of fresh flowers and something distinctly you, brought back a flood of memories. She looked around, noting that not much had changed. The same cozy furniture, old family photos on the walls, and the soft, inviting ambiance.

Ellie's eyes landed on a series of framed photos on a nearby shelf. She walked over, noticing one that showed you at around thirteen, smiling awkwardly holding up a peace sign. 'there's the face i remember', she thought with a smile.

You noticed her looking at the photos and came over, glancing at the one Ellie was staring at. "Ah, the awkward years," you said with a laugh, a painful expression on your face. "My mom insists on keeping those up for some reason, it's so embarrassing.."

Ellie chuckled, feeling a little more at ease. "It's not so bad. If it makes you feel any better I thought you were the coolest."

You grinned, nudging her playfully. "Get real." You said before walking over to the kitchen opening one of the top cabinets. "You were like the coolest of the cool. God I thought you were so badass Ellie." You laughed some more as you reminisced on your own memories with Ellie while on your tippy toes reaching for the sugar. To this day you'd never admit it but a part of you sensed a bit of pride for being Ellies first friend in Jackson. When her and Joel had first moved here she was like a breath of fresh air. Always knew what to say, always had some snarky comeback, she never took shit from anybody and she'd never know just how much she inspired you. Jackson seemed so quiet before she arrived, in the months you had been friends with her you seemed to have laughed more than you had in your entire life. She was like a firecracker but you had noticed that over the years she seemed to die out, just little enough for you to notice. It wasn't anything bad really, just what growing up does to people you guessed.

"That's because I was badass. But so were you." Ellie smiles, your confession of finding her 'badass' had made her a lot happier than she'd care to admit. She thought visiting you for the first time again would be awkward and insufferable just because of how you two had slowly fallen out, but talking to you again began to feel so casual. Ellie started to forget why she was worried in the first place.

"Ok well you weren't just badass, you were hilarious, smart, pretty, fun. Seriously El's, you were like everything."

There it was. Exactly what she was afraid of. Words from you that probably means nothing that will keep her up at night overthinking. You said it so casually, pouring sugar into the cup smiling. Ellie looked at you feeling her smile strain again. You were just being as sweet as always, no biggie.

"Thanks." In all honesty didn't know what else to say. She was flattered, of course she was, but she didn't know how exactly to take it so for now she chose to ignore it.

"Here you go," you said turning around walking towards her. You handed it to her with a smile. "Tell Joel I said good luck with the baking."

Accepting it she thanked you again as she let you walk her to the door. Stepping out she turned towards you again, "Oh, and congratulations on your dads promotion."

"Dads... promotion?"

The two of you stood there staring at each other blankly, progressively becoming more confused by the second.

"Uhh yea! Thank you Ellie! I'll see you around."

. . .

Walking through the front door Ellie let out a loud groan, wiggling out of her jacket before making her way to the kitchen setting the measuring cup on the kitchen island.

"Joel! I got your stupid sugar!" She yelled out for him.

Looking back to the island she noticed a note left for her.

took too long

went to the store to buy more sugar

be back in 20

-Joel : )

"Ugh."

. . .

Thanks 4 reading u all! Notes r appreciated! :3

authors note!!!! <33; SRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!!! i got rlly insecure abt my writing tbh but then i realized like i dont have to be this serious writer using big words and crazy detailed descriptors with 12k word chapters ykwim? im a gay teenage girl so im gonna write like one! Dialogue is definitely my strong suit like ahh its so fun. be honest guys does the way i write bug u? is it too fast paced? cuz i feel like it is TELL ME!!!!!! ALSO ITLL START TO GET MORE ROMANTIC AND SILLY SOON I PROMISEE

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[imhere-imqueer-ilikedeer]

[aouiaa]

unpopular opinion: the teaser was shit, support palestine instead.

[animasolaoriginal]

I n f a t u a t e d ♦️SIX

CHAPTER ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE SIX SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾️TEN ELEVEN◾TWELVE◾️THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN◾FIFTEEN SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN◾EIGHTEEN◾NINETEEN◾TWENTY

As they talk ground rules concerning their unique situation, she finds herself agreeing to whatever he tells her, ultimately confessing her reason for allowing all the vile things he does to her. Dangerous information in his hands, and he knows exactly how to use it to his advantage, pushing her limits even further.

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Age gap. Size difference. Dubcon elements. Dom/sub dynamic. Free use/power play. Oral cockwarming. Anal fingering/sex. Rough oral sex/deepthroating. (For more tags, check it on AO3!) // WORDS: 7.4k

A/N: Please remember to check the tags very thoroughly! This chapter is a little rougher. Just a heads-up.

FIVE 🟥 SIX 🟥 SEVEN

She focuses on what he told her: Get dressed. Ignore the pain, she tells herself. It's hard, very hard, one wrong move and there are new tears in her eyes. It's a strange pain, deep-rooted, a soreness of muscles she had no idea she even had. Walking is tough, but sitting is even worse.

After somehow managing to slip into the clothes he put out for her (the dress is cute, a happy color, the soft fabric moving around her thighs, brushing against her sore butt, the thong however sits a little too tight between her cheeks, pressing hard against the knob of the plug, every movement only adding to the discomfort), she slowly makes her way into the kitchen on unsteady legs, pressing her lips into a thin line, breathing hard through her nose.

He sits on a bar stool at the kitchen island, sipping on his coffee, his eyes moving away from the phone in his hand towards her when she approaches. His smile makes her forget about the little sparks of pain when she moves closer. He pulls her against him, leaning in to kiss her forehead, luckily not forcing her onto his lap or onto the stool next to him.

“Help yourself,” he says with a nod to the coffee pot and a variety of breakfast foods laid out on the counter in front of him. Fruits, toast, buns, oats, other cereals, jam, slices of cheese and ham, fried bacon, small sausages, too much to choose from, really.

Letting go of her again, he looks back at his phone, seemingly scrolling through emails. She turns her head away quickly, doesn't want to be too nosy, so she leans in and grabs a piece of sliced apple, nibbling on it, not really hungry after all.

She stands a little awkwardly next to him, leaning on the counter, the same counter he had her bent over yesterday. It's a strange thought and an even stranger thing to eat off the same surface now. Or to think it's been a day (and a long night) since she woke up in his place, as his... whatever she is to him. His to fuck whenever he wants, apparently. It's still all a little fuzzy.

This somehow turned from a simple hook-up to her asking him to take her virginity to him taking her however and wherever he likes, and it's only taken him one day (and that awfully long night) to breach all her holes, take all her firsts, and it doesn't feel like it's the end of it. And somehow she is glad, in a twisted sort of way. Glad he didn't drop her after he's used her. Instead he provides her with clothes, food, keeps her close. Despite all the pain she's in, it feels strangely nice to have someone take care of her like that.

Someone who does the thinking for her – which is only fair when he is the one who takes away her ability to do so in the first place. Another thing she finds enjoyable despite the soreness it leaves, is how he never fails to give her that head-empty-feeling. No worries, just fucked out of her mind, happy. A feeling she only ever achieved with drinking too much, and somehow getting fucked is better than having to deal with the aftermath of too much alcohol.

“So, how do you feel?” he asks through the murky fog of thoughts inside her head, quite the opposite to how she feels when he does all these vile things to her.

She swallows the apple bite and licks her lips. “Sore,” she says quietly. “But I'm fine... if I just stand here,” she adds, giving him a shy smirk.

He grins at her, though there is a furrow to his brows. Putting his phone into his pocket, he gets up, and she shifts to follow him, but he holds up his hand. “Wait here,” he tells her, and she nods, watching him leave the open kitchen into another room she hasn't seen before. She's barely seen anything of his place, to be honest, but she has the impression there'll be time for that yet.

When he comes back, he grabs a small water bottle from the fridge and holds out two pills in his palm, one slightly larger than the other. She looks up at him, hesitantly takes the medicine.

“One for the pain and one... for after,” he says, cocking his head to the side. She frowns at the explanation. “You're not on birth control, are you?”

His question heats up her face. Clearing her throat, she looks down at the pills. “No,” she mumbles.

“Take these then,” he says, pulling his phone out of his pocket, quickly sliding his thumb over the screen. “I'll get you the pill. You'll need it...”

She doesn't know why this is so embarrassing to her (she's so embarrassed she doesn't even register the implication behind his words). It makes her feel like a child, someone who's way in over their head but doesn't want to admit to it. This is not the kind of taking care of her she thought about earlier, this feels like showing off her flaws, makes her realize she was not prepared for any of this to begin with.

Inhaling deeply, she puts the pills on her tongue and brings the water to her lips, swallowing hard to get them down. She empties the bottle, trying to empty her mind as well and not worry about anything anymore.

But now she thinks about accidentally getting pregnant because he couldn't stop pumping his freaking cum into her (and how she didn't even think about that possibility while he's done it), and how she feels so inexperienced and tiny next to him, him in his fancy suit pants and ironed shirt, typing on his phone, looking busy and important, and she's here in her small sundress that barely covers her thighs, barefoot, hair messy, face flushed, hurting from the inside out, useless.

He seems to feel her discomfort and without saying anything, he puts his large hand on her back, warm and comforting, rubbing softly up and down. She takes a deep breath, forces a smile and picks up another sliced apple piece, trying to focus on anything but her worries. She'd even have him fuck her senseless again, just to get rid of the nagging thoughts, soreness be damned.

“Okay,” he then says after a few minutes, his hand slipping to her lower back as he steps closer to her. She looks up, nibbling on the apple. He smirks at the sight, momentarily distracted. “Let's talk ground rules, shall we?” he eventually continues, sitting back down on the stool, lowering his towering height a little bit.

“Ground rules?” she asks, frowning at the change of topic.

“Yes. Think, darling, what are things I already told you to do and not to do?” He looks at her, a serious expression on his face, watching her so intently she feels her cheeks burn up even more.

“Uh,” she starts, thinking hard. It's a little contradictory to have her remember things he said when he keeps turning her brain off. “I... I uh...”

His hand grabs her chin, and she winces, eyes widening.

“Use your words,” he tells her sternly.

She swallows hard, her mind racing, her heart beating out of her chest. “I... I am yours to... use. You... you can... f-fuck me whenever you want,” she whispers, stumbling over her words, feeling even more embarrassed now. “And I... I can't say... no...”

He tilts his head, listening patiently. “Correct,” he says, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. “Anything else?”

She frowns, biting the inside of her cheek. Her throat tenses up. She doesn't know what he wants to hear from her. It's like these horrifying moments when the teacher asks a question and you haven't listened to anything they said. Her stomach drops. “I... I don't know...” she murmurs under her breath, voice quivering, brows furrowing.

He stares at her, but then nods and loosens the grip on her jaw, gently cupping her cheek instead. “It's okay, I'll tell you,” he replies.

She relaxes slightly, but only until he lifts her onto his lap in one swift motion, effortlessly, his grip on her upper arms tight, and she flinches badly, unable to hide the pained little whine slipping from her lips. He moves her on his thigh, one arm wrapped around her, the other back on her cheek, tilting her face up. Her muscles protest, the ache flaring up as she shifts on his hard leg. She swallows any other sounds that threaten to spill from her, blinking quickly to keep the tears down as well.

His thumb wipes at the corner of her eye as he watches her closely. “Hurts, hm?” he whispers, and she nods. “You'll always have to tell me if you're in pain, okay? I can't read minds. Ask me for pain killers, ask me for anything, just ask. That's a key rule: you will ask me if you need anything, understood?”

“Yes,” she says, wincing before she adds: “Sir.”

“Repeat.”

“I... I'll tell you when it hurts, and I'll ask you if I need anything...”

He nods, caressing her cheek. “Good. That includes taking the plug out,” he clarifies, pushing his leg up slightly, coaxing another wince out of her as the motion pushes against the mentioned object stuck in her butt. “You don't have to wear it all the time, but you will ask me if you can take it out. Right?”

She nods, he looks at her. “Yes, sir,” she says quickly. “I... I'll ask you when I want the plug out...” His eyes narrow slightly, her heart skips a beat. “Uh, if... if I'm allowed to take it out...”

He huffs a laugh. “Exactly. You don't want anything. You take what I give you, you do what I tell you, always, no matter what, understood?”

“Yes, sir,” she mumbles, biting her lip, focusing more on the words to repeat than on their actual meaning. “I'll do what you tell me to do, take what you give me...”

“And that includes?” he asks softly, cryptically, leaning in a little, his finger tracing the shape of her lips.

She blinks in confusion.

He smiles at her, then brushes his lips against her ear. “If I pump you full of cum, you will not get rid of it. If it drips down your leg, you will let it drip. If it gathers in your underwear, you will walk around with it until I tell you to change. I will tell you if you can clean yourself or not.”

His words make her shiver, and it's not just the close proximity, how his deep voice vibrates through her body. It's humiliating to think he has this kind of power over her, making her wear his cum like a trophy. Taking away the innate want to be clean. She inhales sharply, hoping he won't notice the hesitation in her voice. “Y-yes, sir. I'll... keep it on... and in me, at all times...”

He leans back, watching her closely. “Good girl,” he says, and she shivers for a completely different reason, her breath hitching slightly. His eyes move over her burning face, a soft smile grazing his lips. “You'll do anything for me if I call you that, huh?” he adds quietly, almost mockingly.

She looks away, something hot growing inside her stomach. “Yeah,” she admits quietly, worrying her lip between her teeth. It's indeed worrying how he can see right through her, and even worse that she will in fact do absolutely anything for a bit of praise from him. Worrying and deeply disturbing.

“Isn't that good to know,” he whispers, leaning down to press his lips against her warm cheek. She swallows hard, still not looking at him. His hand moves along the column of her neck, a light pressure against her throat, thumb rubbing over her pulse. “Why did you come to me?” he then asks, making her look up with a frown. “You approached me. You made me take you... why?”

Made him... take her? It's that big black hole she has in her memory of how she actually got here. He took her after all, and it wasn't just for a hook-up, she knows that now. He wanted all of her, all for himself, for more than a night. All because she approached him first?

She tries to ignore the dark truth of his actions, focuses on his question, thinks back to the night she's first seen him. “I... I've noticed you before,” she then replies, quietly, watching him as he listens to her. “I've come to the club a lot, always because of... well, you. I wanted to be... one of those girls...” He raises an eyebrow. “Well, you know, you always had one or more around you, and they were all so pretty and tall,” she adds with a little purse to her lips, her words tumbling out of her mouth with a bit of a rush now. “And I wanted that too, I mean, not being tall, I can't just grow like that, right? But, uh, to have your attention. It's silly, isn't it? I barely know you... but... that doesn't matter much, hm? When there are... feelings... or, I guess, illusions of feelings or whatever this is?”

The lines on his forehead deepen slightly. “What are you saying?”

“I was... uh... well, I... I guess I had a... a crush on you,” she says quickly, averting her eyes as her blush expands to her ears and down her neck, a strange tightness settling in her stomach.

“Had?” he asks, nudging her chin with his knuckles to make her look up. “You no longer have a crush on me?”

She lets out a groan, her eyelids fluttering. To be honest, she has no idea. Is this still a crush or something else entirely? Whatever it is, it's anything but healthy, that much she can admit to. “No, I still... I think I still do...” she whispers, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Still, huh?” he says, his fingers moving up to cup her jaw, turn her face back towards him. “Despite everything?” She nods into his hand. “Aren't you a cute little thing...” he adds with a dark smile. “You're absolutely perfect, do you know that?”

His words surprise her, but as soon as he leans in to press his lips to hers, she doesn't question them anymore. Perfect for what? Doesn't matter. He wants her, all of her. Is it fucked-up and strange? Yes, certainly, but she doesn't care. She has his attention now, more than that even, more than she could have ever imagined (and this is clearly far beyond anything she could have ever thought up on her own).

Her hand finds his wrist, holding onto him as she moves her tongue against his, slow and intimate, a deep connection between two strangers who feel like so much more. What they are exactly, she can't say, and frankly, it doesn't matter.

After breakfast, he shows her around the penthouse. It is a penthouse, high above the city, a giant array of many rooms, most of them he tells her not to enter. There's a gym, another bedroom plus bathroom, his office that's connected to a library, a large room with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves she stares at longer than she should. The interior continues to be minimalist, a lot of blacks and whites, antique-looking wooden floors, intricate trim lining the walls. It looks expensive, luxurious, but ultimately also very masculine.

If she didn't know it already, she'd say this was the typical den of a bachelor, and from all she does know about him prior to waking up in his penthouse, he is one of the most popular ones. Rich and single, no wonder he was always surrounded by women in the club. His club. And to think she is the girl he chose to take back home? It's still mind-blowing to her.

He squeezes her hand to pull her out of the library, and she follows slowly. He's strangely gentle to her, always waits for her because she still can't walk properly (it is his fault though, so it's something a normal man is expected to do, but he is far from normal, that much she knows now, that's why it's such a surprise). He pulls her towards him when he explains things or when they step onto the large balcony that wraps around most of his apartment. And she feels safe, protected, and, despite her isolation from the rest of the world, not alone.

It's a sunny day today, contrary to yesterday, and she's in awe at the view she has over the city. If her whole body wouldn't be in pain from all the former ordeals he's put her through, she'd think she woke up a princess, or at least someone on the whole other end of the wealth spectrum.

She can barely think back to her old life, where she had a shitty job, lived in a shitty apartment the size of his walk-in closet, had barely any friends, mostly just acquaintances, who'd ask her to come along sometimes, and co-workers she'd talk to on occasion, and no family to rely on. It's been a hard, lonesome life, so to be able to spend her time here now, with him, she'd let him bruise her every single day for the rest of her life if it meant she could stay.

That is what this deal is, right? She doesn't have words for it, but it's the age old thing of giving a service to receive something in return. Letting him use her for a chance at a better life. Doesn't sound too bad, does it?

He finishes the tour in front of his office, one hand on her waist, head tilted down to look at her. “Do you want to lie down and rest now?” he asks her, his low voice so gentle she completely forgets about the other side of him, the dark one, the one that forces his cock into her ass to punish her.

She shakes her head. “I'm fine,” she says, stupid as she is, blinded by the pleasantries he's shown her.

The shift in his face is immediate. A dark glint settles in his eyes. “Yeah? No more pain?”

“Well, I'm still sore,” she says quickly, biting her lip. “But it'll be fine.” He seems to understand that she just doesn't want to leave him.

“Come join me in my office then,” he tells her, guiding her into the big room.

The giant desk is the center piece of the space, a large window behind it, a couch on one side, another, smaller desk on the other, framed by shelves and sideboards. Apart from the occasional plant, there's no clutter anywhere, not even on the desk, only a little cart beside it, laden with various alcohol bottles and glasses.

When he leaves her to walk around the desk and sit down on the leather chair, her eyes move to the door leading into the library. She's already turning into that direction, thinking about finding a book to read, when she stops, literally freezes on the spot as she remembers his rules.

She turns back to him, clearing her throat, licking her lips, suddenly very nervous. “Can I... can I get a book from the library?” she asks quietly.

He looks up in the middle of opening a laptop, one eyebrow perked up. “No,” he says, and she frowns at the harshness in his voice, her heart instantly sinking. “Come here,” he adds and waves her over.

Inhaling deeply, she shuffles to him. He rolls back in his chair, creating a space between his legs. The gesture is pretty obvious, the command unspoken, she still hesitates as she moves closer. His eyes darken as he watches her.

“Kneel,” he tells her, and she does, her heart beating faster.

She can't help but wince when she settles between his legs, hands on his thighs, looking up at him, carefully leaning on her knees as to not get the heels of her feet in contact with her sore butt.

His hands move to unbuckle his belt, long fingers opening his pants. “I want you to cockwarm me,” he then says, his eyes boring into hers. “Do you know what that is?”

“I... put your cock in my mouth and keep it warm?” she replies with a raised eyebrow.

“Smart,” he says, patting her head with a smirk. “Exactly like that. But I don't want you to suck me off, understood? You just keep my cock in your mouth, no sounds, no movements. Can you do that?”

She nods slowly, not entirely sure she understands correctly, but she's willing to please him nonetheless. “Yes, sir,” she whispers, shifting closer between his legs.

“I need to work, make some calls and video chats, and you are not allowed to interrupt me. No noises,” he repeats, looking at her pointedly. “If you need a break, you do so quietly. But you will not leave, you'll stay right here under the desk. Just a couple of hours, okay?”

A couple of hours? On her knees with his cock in her mouth? Hours? The shock must be obvious on her face, and he moves his hand down to caress her cheek.

“It's not as bad as you think. Just relax, make yourself comfortable down there. Keep me nice and warm, yeah?” The gentle voice is back, and she inhales deeply, feeling something warm settling in her stomach.

“Yes, sir,” she whispers, giving him a weak smile.

His fingers sink into her hair, and he moves her further under the desk before he rolls his chair closer. There's enough space, even though she feels as if sitting in a wooden box, caged in on three sides, the hard wooden floor beneath her, and the table top above her, but she can look past his chair and out of the window, sees the clear blue sky and some clouds floating by. She cannot see his face though, only his crotch. He grabs her wrist and guides her towards his cock as he frees it with his other hand.

She grips it gingerly, shifting closer on her knees, and she can already tell that this position will add to her list of pains. The floor is hard and unyielding, and her dress not long enough to work as a protective layer. Sighing quietly, she opens her mouth and lets him put his tip on her tongue, then he nudges her to close her lips around it. Her first instinct is to hollow her cheeks, but he quickly corrects her with a soft slap to her jaw.

“Hold completely still,” he reminds her, and she hums in response, nestling between his legs, hands holding onto his thighs, head as still as possible as she feels the weight of him on her tongue. And she's supposed to do this for a couple of hours? She almost wishes he'd just fuck her hard on his desk or something.

She can hear him typing on his keyboard, click clack, a monotonous sound, sometimes mixed with a soft thud when he puts his phone on the table. After only a few minutes, she is not only bored out of her mind, but also feels a slight ache in her jaw. Additionally, it's very hard not to move her tongue. It's so tempting to just flick it around his tip, feel the spongy flesh, taste more of him. His scent is already in her nostrils, and it has a strange effect on her.

An arousing one.

A loud exhale slips through her nose, and she feels him shifting in his chair, his hand coming down to grab her jaw. She lets out a muffled whine when he pulls her head to his crotch, letting him slip deeper into her mouth, but that is not what he intended to do. He presses her cheek down so it rests on his pelvis, close to his hip. She tries to settle into the new position, her knees aching already. Draping her arms around him, she adjusts and actually relaxes against him, his cock heavy on her tongue, a bit more than just the tip.

He ruffles her hair once she keeps still. “Good girl,” he whispers, before he focuses back on whatever he's doing above her. His words only increase the wet feeling between her thighs, but she tries to ignore it, focuses only on the weight and scent and feel of him in her mouth. She even closes her eyes, leaning against his warm body, occasionally trying to swallow the drool gathering on her tongue, which is harder with her mouth open like this, so she can't get it all down. Some drips past her lips, running down her chin. But she couldn't care less.

Suddenly his voice sounds above her, and she realizes he must be talking to someone, stern, professional, barking orders in a way that's demanding and authoritative. She doesn't care what he says, it doesn't matter to her. It's the thrum and timbre of his voice that lulls her, makes her sleepy, and she feels herself drifting off, jaw going slack, but then a jerk runs through her body, making her twitch, and she gasps as she realizes she's bumped into him as she fumbled to put his cock inside her mouth again.

He keeps talking as if nothing happened, but his legs press against her shoulders for a bit, and she relaxes into him again, adjusts her position, keeps her eyes open and stares past his crotch towards the wall – which is so boring. A simple white, maybe even a soft beige, she isn't sure. Could be the daylight that changes the color. Daylight. There are no shadows to follow, no indication of how much time has passed. Just his voice, then silence when he's done with the call, the click clack of his keyboard.

Sometimes he moves his hand under the desk to caress her hair, slip his fingers through it, massage her scalp. She hums softly then, and he allows the quiet noise. Her jaw is tense, upper lip is dry and no way to lick it, while more drool keeps running down her chin. She wipes at it with her hand while she keeps one arm around his waist to hold herself up. She is so bored, her mind empty and at the same time not as she thinks about things she would rather do than sit in this uncomfortable position on her knees.

It's not even his cock in her mouth, she's somehow fine with that, but everything around it, the keeping quiet, the not moving, the doing absolutely nothing. And she can't even fall asleep in fear she might bump her head when she wakes up or maybe even bites down on him because she can't control her jaw any longer. For what it's worth, it's these doubts that keep her awake at least.

To keep herself somewhat entertained, she tries to think back to all the things that happened since she woke up in his bed. Her memories are hazy, but she still remembers the moment when he forced the plug into her butt, just like that, as if it was a normal thing to do. And she had just let him – well, she couldn't really fight him, she's tried, oh and he'd spanked her for it also. So fighting him really is and was not an option.

While she thinks back to the beginning of their strange situation, she hears his voice again, interrupted by other voices. A video chat probably. Again she doesn't care what those men are talking about, it doesn't matter to her.

Rolling her jaw a little, accidentally pushing her tongue against the underside of his cock, she stiffens slightly, waits for his reaction, but nothing happens. He keeps perfectly still, a true professional talking to whoever, while some girl he picked up in his club cockwarms him under his desk. What a normal thing. What a strange world where this is indeed beginning to be normal to her as well.

She dares another little press of her tongue, feeling the texture of his warm skin, the veins throbbing beneath it, and again he doesn't do anything. In her mind she thinks back to the first time she had his cock in her mouth, that handjob turned blowjob on the couch, how he's forced her down on him, how panicked she has been – and in comparison to the next blowjob in the kitchen, he had been really gentle.

A shudder rushes through her as she remembers how he pushed into her throat, made her gag, that horrible twitch of her body she couldn't control, the feeling of not being able to breathe, choking on him and her own spit. Nothing she wants to experience again, but knowing her situation, she may not have the luxury to wish for anything.

When her thoughts become darker all of a sudden, she focuses back on the here and now, hears the drone of the voices above the table, feels his warm legs around her, ignores the ache of her knees and jaw, the constant flow of drool down her chin, the weight and heat and taste of his cock in her mouth.

Somehow he's gotten a little harder, thicker, filling her mouth more, straining against her lips, and she can't help but move her tongue beneath him, roll her jaw once more, and then she sucks, hollows her cheeks, not necessarily to do something to him, but to keep the spit inside her mouth. His hand is on her head in no time, fingers digging into her hair, and she forces herself not to make any noise as she flinches against him.

His grip is rough, but his hand is heavy, holds her down, in place, still, and she relaxes again, breathes deep through her nose, closes her eyes, doesn't move as she holds him between her lips. The tension in his fingers eases, and he starts to caress her again, gently massaging her scalp, all while talking to some men over a video call.

And eventually her head runs completely empty. The way he touches her, how his cock rests hot and hard and heavy on her tongue, his scent all around her, it's all there is, all that matters.

Him.

Someone to focus on, someone to please... someone to service...

Only him.

It's his voice in her head, a soft echo, getting louder, clearer. “Baby?”

Her eyelids flutter open, a new strand of saliva drips from her chin. His hand is on her jaw, catching it. It takes her a moment to realize where she is. Under the desk, between his legs, his cock still in her mouth. She moves her hand up, rests it on his thigh, and he slowly rolls his chair back. She follows the movement, shifts on her knees, a sudden sting crashing through her body, and a muffled groan escapes her.

“You can let go now,” he tells her quietly.

She blinks again, looking up from under her lashes, meeting his gaze. There's a soft smile on his lips. The heat in her stomach is instant, a fire jumping to life by the snap of a finger. She leans back hesitantly, using her hands to hold his cock and wipe at her wet mouth. Her first instinct is to swallow, really swallow, without anything obstructing the motion. Then she inhales deeply, not daring to let go of his erection. It's covered in her spit, as is part of his pants, and she feels her cheeks burning up.

His hand cups her face, thumb rubbing over her chin. She sits back on her knees, one hand braced on his leg, the other tight around his throbbing length. “You did good,” he tells her, nudging her to get to her feet, his other hand prying her fingers off his cock before he grabs it himself.

She more or less crawls out from under the desk, gets up on shaking legs, a strange weakness in her limbs from kneeling for however long he's made her do this. Her head is filled with cotton, a strange vertigo making her sway a little. Suddenly he's standing next to her after she's blinked a few times, that tall frame towering over her, warm, strong, confident.

“Come on,” he says, his voice a little muffled, his hands on her waist turning her until he gently pushes her stomach-first onto the desk. Confusion washes over her, her cheek rests on the cold wood of the tabletop. His knee is pushing her legs apart, he steps between them. Her heart beats faster. His hands move along her sides, following her curves, slip under the skirt of her dress.

He flips it up quickly, while her breaths turn almost frantic. What's going on? His fingers curl around her hips, pulling her back a little. Her hands find the edge of the table. She can only see him out of the corner of her eye, her vision is blurry, he's just this intimidating shadow behind her, backlit by the light streaming through the large window. Her legs twitch against him when she feels his finger in the cleft between her ass cheeks, following the fabric of her thong before pushing it aside, and a quiet wail escapes her.

“Shh,” he makes, not even hesitating when he tugs at the knob of the plug. She squirms a little, her rapid breaths fanning over the tabletop. His thumb presses the metal toy against her tight muscles, and she whimpers in response, the soreness within flaring up again.

“P-please...” she croaks out.

“Please what?” he asks, fingers closing around the base of the plug, pulling gently. “Please fill my ass? Please fuck me hard? Or please stop?” he teases.

She gasps when he suddenly pulls the plug out with a strangely wet pop. She knows she shouldn't answer him, it's a trap either way, but she can't help herself. “Please don't do this...”

He puts the plug on the table next to her, stepping a little closer between her legs. She hears him spitting into his hand, before something wet and warm slips between her cheeks, over her tense hole. He completely ignores her when he dips his finger into her ass.

“Don't! Please!” she whimpers, writhing on the desk.

He pokes his finger deeper. “Why?”

“B-because... you... you just said... said I did good,” she stammers, body shivering under his ministrations. “So... why... why are you... punishing me?”

“Punishing you?” he asks, genuine confusion in his voice as he stills his finger inside her. “This is not a punishment, sweetheart, it's a reward.”

Her response is a sudden sob, tears gathering in her eyes.

“Come on, do you really think anal sex is a punishment? Did it hurt that bad? Didn't you come when I fucked you in the shower? Can't you remember? I bet that felt good, huh?” While he speaks, he pumps his finger in and out, slowly adds another, repeats the motion, every word accentuated by a deep push of his hand against her ass, slow and steady.

She sniffles quietly, unsure what to say to that.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, fingering her harder, deeper, faster, his fingers stretching her tense muscles.

“A-a little,” she whispers.

“Really? Or is it just a strange feeling?”

His question makes her pause. Of course it's a strange feeling, she's never had fingers or other things pushed up her ass before she met him. But she does question the pain or discomfort. Because the more he pushes into her, the better it feels, or maybe her body just adjusts to the sensation, giving her the illusion that it may feel better?

“Huh? What is it?” he presses, moving his fingers faster, the squelching sound making her blush deeply.

“I... I don't know...” she whimpers.

“Does it hurt or does it not hurt? It's a simple question!” He sounds more and more agitated, but she can only breathe faster, whine louder.

“I don't know!” she cries out.

“Well, how about this,” he starts, pulling his fingers from her ass. “How's this then? Does this hurt?” he asks, and she feels the spongy tip of his cock press against her hole. It's a simple roll of his hips, and he's inside her, slipping deeper, slow shallow thrusts as he fills her out.

She can't even say anything or make any noise except a low gurgle from deep within her throat, she can barely breathe with how full she feels all of a sudden. Her fingers curl around the edge of the table, his thrusts, as slow and careful as they may be, pushing her back and forth. His hands grip her waist, it's a steady push and pull as his cock slides in and out, slowly getting faster.

The friction is worse than yesterday, her muscles too tense and unprepared and frankly still sore. He doesn't care, slipping deeper, pounding harder, going faster. Every thrust feeds the fire burning within, the bad kind, not the one smoldering in her stomach, but the one sending cold shivers over her skin as pain ripples through her.

“Does – it – hurt?” he asks through gritted teeth, every word stressed by a particularly hard snap of his hips.

She whines quietly, too overwhelmed to even comprehend the question or why he's asking it.

“Tell – me!” His grip around her waist tightens, fingers digging into the fabric of her dress, squeezing her sides.

She gasps, breathes rougher. “Yes... yes!” she wails.

He stops immediately, the only sound her little whines and the loud thumping of her heart in her ears. His hands ease their grip, moving lower over her curves, caressing her tense skin. His cock rests hard and heavy inside her, throbbing slightly. “Good,” he says, inhaling deeply. “Tell me what you want,” he then asks, kneading her cheeks lightly, pulling them apart as he waits for her answer.

This must be another trick question, she thinks frantically, trying to control her heavy breaths. “I... I don't... I don't want... anything...” she then whispers. Somehow that reply came to her, slipped over her lips, a deep-rooted understanding pushing to the forefront of her mind.

“Correct,” he whispers, surprise evident in his voice. “You don't get to decide what I do to you. You don't get to say no. You take what I give you...”

She closes her eyes, he resumes the rolling of his hips.

“And if I tell you that this is a reward, you better fucking believe it!” he ends, quickly picking up the pace, really hammering into her now.

She cries out, body convulsing, thighs slamming into the hard edge of the desk, the sudden onslaught of sensations making her head spin. His pants and groans become louder, his thrusts even harder, and she succumbs to it all, just takes it, like he wants her to, while hot tears roll over her cheeks, gathering under her head pressed to the table.

The pain is that heavy thing inside her, weighing her down, pulling her into all directions at once, overtaking everything she feels. It's mostly just... hurt. Burning, aching, thumping hurt. Though there is a strange heat building up as well, but it's flimsy, a feeling like trying to catch smoke. She's yearning for it, but it slips away every time he pushes particularly deep.

She's numb when he finally finishes, a loud grunt echoing through the room as he gives her that final thrust and stills, all of him inside of her, his cock throbbing angrily, balls twitching against her folds, ropes of cum shooting into her bruised depths, warm and filling. He leans his hands on either side of her body, breathing heavily as he comes down from his orgasm.

Her eyes are closed, lashes clumped, face wet from crying. Her body shudders deeply when he slowly pulls back, her muscles clenching around him until the pressure is gone, her hole left gaping, something hot and thick dripping from it. He moves his finger around her sphincter, teases it with his fingertip. “Clench,” he orders, and subconsciously or not, she does, muscles working around his digit. He pulls it out and grabs the plug, quickly pushes it back into place, sealing his cum inside her.

He rubs his hands along her rear, then adjusts her thong and pulls her skirt back over it. She hears him walking around the desk, and without much protest, she is being rolled onto her back, head hanging off the edge as he pulls her towards him. Moved like a doll. Used like a toy.

“Open your mouth,” he tells her, and again, she just does, pliant and defeated, her eyelids too heavy to open. His hand is under her head, holding it up, a strong but somehow comforting touch. There's nothing comforting about his next move.

His cock, still semi-hard, pushes into her mouth, her jaw protesting, his tip, wet and slippery, scraping over her gums. He bends her neck a little, stepping closer, sinking it deeper. It hits the back of her throat, and she feels that deep shudder, the uncontrollable twitch, the sliver of panic, when she gags around him, her throat working against the intruder. He pulls back a little, lets her swallow the spit and bile, before he pushes back in, deeper, deeper, filling her throat, his hips resuming those rolling motions, just against her face now.

With how he leans over her, how her head is held by his hands, she feels his tight balls slamming against her nose with every thrust. She's already breathless, gasping and gulping for air whenever he allows her some reprieve between gagging and choking. Spit and cum drip from her lips, trailing down the side of her head. She's too weak to fight this, can't do anything but let him fuck her face, push into her throat, over and over again, until she feels her consciousness slipping.

But he never lets her drift off, watching her closely, pulling back just in time. He seems to fully harden again, more and more with each deep plunge, his groans are quiet, his movements becoming jerkier. She feels so dizzy, muffled whimpers sitting right where he pushes into her throat. Somehow she's stopped gagging, her muscles relaxing enough to allow what he is doing to her.

His hands grip her head, holding her still as he pushes deep, stills there, and shoots thick warm spurts of cum right down her throat. The urge to breathe, to swallow, is that faraway thumping motion in the back of her mind. She doesn't care anymore. She just wants it to end. Tears and spit and cum leave trails on her flushed face. He pulls back eventually, his cock throbbing against her swollen lips, the last drops of his seed landing on her chin and further down her aching neck.

He pulls her off the table, her body limp in his hold. She can barely feel how he sits her down, holds her chin, nudges her softly. “Breathe,” he whispers, wiping at her soiled cheeks. His voice moves something within her, her stomach flutters, chest heaves, and with a deep sharp inhale, she resumes the frantic attempts to get air back into her lungs, gasping, gulping, coughing hard. He gently rubs her throat as he watches her.

She slowly calms down, though new tears spill from her lashes, hot and desperate, and she remains deeply disturbed by the turn of events. When her eyelids flutter open, she sees him leaning over her, watching her, eyes dark and stern.

“Did you like your reward?” he asks.

Something snaps inside her head like a twig that's being stepped on. The fucking audacity! She wants to scratch his eyes out, shove something down his throat for a change.

The sudden anger that rises within her makes her gasp, a deep shiver almost as bad as her gag reflex or the coughing fit that shook her earlier. It terrifies her. Where did that come from? Pressing her lips into a thin line, she only looks at him from under her lashes, afraid she might say something that will make him really angry.

His eyes narrow, jaw clenches. His hand closes around her throat. “When I give you a reward for good behavior,” he starts, his voice low and with a dangerous edge to it. “I expect you to be grateful. I expect you to say thank you.”

She stares at him, blinking slowly, tears streaming down her face. Is he serious? Thank him for this kind of treatment? How was that even a reward? He didn't even make her come! Somehow she didn't want to see it before, but now she does, in that tiny moment of clarity as the relief to still be drawing breath floods her body. She sees it now: he is absolutely insane, there's no other explanation.

(This isn't normal, this isn't what she wanted, not what she wanted, not normal, not wanted, not –)

An even more disturbing revelation is that there's only one thing she can do: follow his orders, be at his mercy, play along.

So she does. “Th-thank you,” she tries to say, but her voice is just that raw, rough croak caught in the back of her throat. She frowns, clears her throat, winces at the strain and ache within. Whines at the pain.

And strangely enough his expression softens, his hand moving to her cheek, caressing it gently. He leans down and presses his lips to her forehead, then wordlessly picks her up onto his arms and carries her out of the office.

FIVE 🟥 SIX 🟥 SEVEN

End notes: So. This happened. It kinda escalated a little in the end, hm? I'm sorry (but not really). You've read the tags though (I hope), so please don't blame me.

Again, I want to stress that THIS IS FICTION! Not real life! I do not condone this behavior! But sometimes those characters that live inside my head have a mind of their own, and they just do stuff, I can't stop them.

So, thank you for (still) being here! Remember, no rain, no rainbow, right? It'll get better again, I promise!

Thanks again for reading! Next chapter on Monday!

TAG LIST: @qmsvpx @cyan1decandy @bimbos-are-angels @voiceactivated @reader-1290

AO3 / / / MASTERLIST

CHAPTER / / / ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE

SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾️TEN

ELEVEN TWELVE ◾️THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN◾FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN◾EIGHTEEN◾NINETEEN◾TWENTY

[pedropascalsbbg]

“stop filling the tlou tag” your privilege is showing. these posts are to remind people like YOU that there is a GENOCIDE going on. it might not be happening to you but it is happening and it’s horrible. open your eyes and stop being fucking selfish. also it doesn’t take that much energy to lift a fucking finger and at least repost information❗️ #FREEPALESTINE 🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸

[toxicanonymity]

After reading your recent post about night walks!joel i would like to request that the same information about all joels in terms of dick size and such. I feel like it's vital since you said that all of them are different.

Several more Joels within: Free Use (Making Dinner, Picnic Table), Raider, Silence/JTT, Stepdad . . . NSFW 18+ Graphic anatomical descriptions, porn, sexual interests/kinks

Master List for reference

Free Use - Making Dinner; Picnic Table

Exhibitionist tendencies - Likes the risk of being caught, especially when it makes you scared. Enjoys some manhandling.

No need for porn when he can slide right in you without preamble. But he’s been known to watch amateur in-public and maybe a little bit of cuckolding porn.  

17 cm (6.75”).  Thick.  Pale shaft, pink tip, tip is not much girthier than shaft.  Grower.  Proportional balls.  Straight, almost geometric due to the pattern of veins.  Black hair that he keeps trimmed but not closely shaven or manscaped.  

Raider

Major exhibitionist - Likes to show his dominance - and he is very dominant.  Manhandling. Prefers psychological restraints but will go physical if he has to. Gets off on making you pick your poison.  Had a good time cucking Jack, might try it again sometime.  

Post-outbreak, no porn. Lots of pent up sexual frustration. 

20 cm (8”). Proportional girth.  Bulbous - middle is slightly thicker than tip and base.  Kind of duo-toned, pink and tan, tip is pink. Grower.  Balls on the larger side.  Black, ungroomed hair. Relatively veiny. 

Silence/JTT - Silence can never be bought (Trouble); Just the Tip

Enjoys “we shouldn’t be doing this” situations.   Thinks it’s sexy when you’re kinda dominant.  Loves your neck. Occasional voyeur.

Doesn’t really watch much porn.  He has an ample spank bank.  He also has surveillance footage from time to time :-[].  When he does watch porn, he likes orgies. Also POV blow job. 

18 cm (7”) Thick (one of the girthiest Joels), slightly tapered, couple of nice veins, prominent tip (the size of a lime according to Just the Tip).  Somewhat of a grower.  Proportional balls.  On the pinker side, tip slightly darker.  Neatly manscaped salt and pepper hair.

Step dad - Instagram; Snapchat

Stepcest. Doesn't mind being dominated - kinda hot when you make him jack off.

Your instagram and snapchat are his main porn, but he’s also dabbled in stepcest recently. When you kind of walked in on him that time senior year of high school, it looked like solo female.  Also has a membership to Mr. skin.

17 cm (6.75”). Thick. Upward curve. Shower. Proportional balls.  Pink with darker pink tip.  Salt and pepper hair, mostly pepper.  Long tip. Symmetrical but not much personality, looks kind of like a dildo. Occasionally shaves completely, furthering the effect.

Night Walks is here.

All joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxiousus @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime  @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore

[elliesappetite]

hey yall, with the global strike nearly being over, i want to say that do not stop talking and sharing about palestine, and although some of you may start writing again, i highly recommend that you don’t forget. Seeing people who get annoyed that tlou tags are being flooded with palestine content angers me. Please don’t stop talking and please share and repost. 🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸

[ennabear]

the amount of people who have been posting about tlou this week is insane. we’re only 2 days into the global strike (2/18-2/24) and already there are people posting fanfics?? this is a week we should use to boycott, protest, call our reps, sign petitions, etc. the literal BARE MINIMUM is to stay off of social media and/or refrain from posting about anything other than palestine. and you can’t even do that? you’re so obsessed with getting notes and followers that you can’t avoid posting fanfiction for one week???

especially about a game made by a zionist. it’s so incredibly easy to not reblog/post about anything other than the genocide. instead of posting fanfics this week, USE YOUR PLATFORM, EDUCATE YOURSELF, SIGN AND SHARE PETITIONS, BOYCOTT ZIONIST COMPANIES. it will cost you nothing.

[punkshort]

Rec List - part two

In no particular order, mostly organized by the way they appeared on my homepage. Enjoy.

The Falling, The Crushing - @getitoutofmymindwrites

Liquid Gold, Bend Over, Dr. Miller, New Beginnings - @endlessthxxghts

A slight miscalculation - @seventeenpins

Whatever my wife wants - @javierpena-inatacvest

Cookies as payment - @whxtedreams

Unfair - @vivwritescrappythings

Helen - @kiwisbell

Desert Dust, Desert Dust - Joel's POV - @katiexpunk

The Hills, A Burning Desire pt 2, clouded - @honeyedmiller

Honeysuckle's & Huckleberry's - @zialltops

Wildflower and Barley - @yellowharrington

Kiss, Kiss, Bang, Bang - @aurorawritestoescape

Stiff - @mothandpidgeon

Mine, all mine - @thetriumphantpanda

Emergency Contact - @javiscigarette

soil in the lines of their palms - @5oh5

Diehard - @gutsby

Talking bodies - @joelsdagger

Like real people do - @mrsmando

^ Pedro tax

[lovedrruunk]

'Girl next door જ⁀➴♡ Prologue

In which Joel plays cupid in order to help a hopeless Ellie win over the cute girl next door.

Series Masterlist!

"Ain't lesbians s'pposed to date girls?"

not proof read :P

[silly awkward Ellie Williams x fem reader!]

"How 'bout the Johnson's daughter? I heard she was um... sapphic... Is that the right term...?"

"God you're so bad at this!"

Ellie rolled her eyes as she continued to play with her food at the dinner table. For the past couple of weeks, Joel had been slowly encouraging Ellie to 'put herself out there,' whatever that meant. And so with the recent news of her two best friends becoming a thing, he'd only gotten more relentless. It's not like she didn't want a girlfriend; it was just complicated and definitely a lot harder than Joel thought it was. Jackson was a small town, and finding someone who clicked with her, who understood her, felt almost impossible.

"I'm just saying Ellie" he continued "She's smart, she's nice, and from what I heard she likes girls. Seems like a good match to me."

Ellie sighed stabbing a piece of broccoli with her fork. "It's not that simple Joel. You can't just put two lesbians in a room together and expect fireworks."

There was a short silence before Ellie looked up to see Joel furrowing his eyebrows looking at the wall behind her seemingly lost.

"Oh my god, Joel!"

"I mean c'mon are ya sure?" He said defensively. "That is how it usually seems to go."

"Ok- well- not all the time! Anyway that's not the point... Besides, she's barely gay. She only kisses girls as a party trick." Ellie murmurs looking back down at her food.

"Off the list." He mutters to himself just as quietly as he continues to eat.

"Not that I am endorsing this but just who else is on this 'list'?"

"Tracy, Mai, Cat, Y/N, Monet-"

"Y/N?"

"Y/N."

"There's no way she's into girls." She says unimpressed.

"You seen her?"

Ellie was silent for a while as she imagined the girl in her head. Yeah no way. 'She's too perfect to be gay.' 'That sounds bad Ellie you can't say that.' You were just so... you. When Joel and Ellie had first arrived in Jackson you had been the first one to introduce her to the others your age. You showed her kindness and helped her get situated into her new life. She would remember how you would often invite her over for dinner with your family, making her feel welcome in a town where she initially felt like an outsider. You'd help her with chores, tell her about the best spots in Jackson as well as who to look out for and who to trust. But after the first couple of months, you two had slowly fallen out. Ellie had Dina and Jesse, and you had your own friends. But, of course, with you being next door neighbors the two of you would still interact from time to time. Ellie’s positive view of you never changed, you were still the sweet girl who had helped her years ago. She remembered the times you’d both sit on her porch, talking about dreams and plans for a future that always seemed so uncertain to her yet you were always so sure of it. All your hopes for the future, the places you wanted to visit, the things you wanted to study, Ellie had wondered if you still had all the same goals. And all this to say; you are not gay. If this was just a way to convince herself that she'd never have a chance or if it was a way to get Joel to back off, she didn't know or care.

"Gone quiet. You fond of her?" He said with an accusing smile.

"Nope." She stands abruptly, handling her plate before walking over to the kitchen to place it in the sink. "Thanks for dinner. I'm going to bed, goodnight."

"Goodnight." He replied watching her as she scurried up the stairs with a knowing smile.

Ellie laid in bed that night, staring at the ceiling. As much as she hated to admit it, Joel was right. She couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to talk to you more, to get to know you all over again. Maybe there was a chance, however small, that you would feel the same fondness towards her as she felt for you. But that was a problem for tomorrow.

. . .

Thanks 4 reading u all! Notes r appreciated! :3

Next chapter! (chapter 1)

Authors note!!! chat is this shocking? wdym u thought this was an Overwatch blog whaaat wdym idk what that is... FIRST SERIES U GUYS lets hope it doesn't end up discontinued ermmm if it does whoopsy. I am physically unable to post something more than 600 words so each chapter will kinda be one shot style! I was tired of all the serious modern AU smutty ellie fics (as good as they are!) i needed something silly so i had to take matters into my own hands im afraid

[kotikaleo]

BOAT BOYS Obsession continues

Hello my dear smalletho enjoyers. May I present you my quick references for boat boys in their double life time

I will draw more of them, since I like to expand their dinamic to all next series you know it only makes sense, considering how much they are osessed.

Anyway i think their relationship goes through all possible russian rolacoaster. They obviously start pretty low, with Etho clearly not exited to be with Joel, but red life changed many man before them and nothing could've saved them ESPECIALLY with a god demn soul bond. They fell down for eachother bad. But when it was all over, the feeling died down, or atleast that's what they would like to belive.

Hehe more on that in next post, when I finish the rest of the sketches uwu

🍂Support me on Patreon!🍂

i posted there some sketches 👀